Chapter V: Part 5

Winter was now coming on: the lengthened siege had lost the lives of many brave men, and Henry of Lancaster at last sent a herald to Du Guesclin to tell him that he desired to speak with him. The herald brought a written passport which, alas! Bertrand was obliged to have read to him by one of his comrades. He had always been so heedless and disobedient in the old days at La Motte, that no one had been able to teach him to read or write, and he had never succeeded in learning in after years, although some authors assert that he could really sign his name.

Bertrand dismissed the herald with a handsome present of clothes and money, and then repaired to the camp of the brave English duke. When there he was asked by Lancaster, whom he owned for his master. "Charles de Blois," he replied promptly, "to whom Bretagne belongs in right of his wife."

The Duke was much pleased with his boldness and resolution, and offered him a high rank in his army if he would consent to enter his service; but Bertrand replied that nothing should ever shake him in his fidelity to Charles de Blois.

Lancaster now received orders from his father to raise the siege: yet he could not depart, in remembrance of the oath he had taken, and Du Guesclin proposed that he should enter the city with ten of his knights, and plant his standard on its walls. When this was done, Du Guesclin politely asked him where the war was to be carried on in future. "Bertrand, my fair friend," replied the duke, "you shall soon know." He had scarcely gone past the barrier when he saw his standard thrown down into the moat; nevertheless he had kept his oath, and having raised the siege, he decamped with all his host, and went to pass the winter at Auray.

Du Guesclin was quick to resent an affront offered to any member of his family. The Duke of Lancaster with the brave Sir John Chandos was before Dinan, which town Bertrand, his brother Olivier, and the governor who had defended Rennes, had hastened to enter before the enemy could invest it. One day when all was quiet, Olivier Du Guesclin had gone out of the town unarmed for the purpose of amusing himself in the open country, when he met with an English knight, who asked him his name, and behaved in a very haughty manner towards him, and made him walk on first, vowing that he should not escape until he had given him a thousand good florins. A Breton knight, however, who had seen Olivier made prisoner, hastened to tell Du Guesclin what had happened. Bertrand instantly mounted his horse and rode off to the English camp, where he found the Duke of Lancaster in his tent playing at chess with Sir John Chandos, whilst several of the chief nobles were standing around looking on. They were all glad to see Bertrand because they had a great respect for his valour, and it is true that he had many qualities which endeared him to his fellow-men, and gained for him friendships which lasted as long as life.

Du Guesclin would not drink the wine they poured out for him until justice had been done to his brother. Henry of Lancaster was an upright man, and promised to settle the matter fairly. He summoned the offending knight to his presence, and ordered him to release Olivier at once. But the knight, who was called Thomas of Canterbury, would not allow that the complaint made against him by Bertrand was just, and threw down his iron glove in defiance. It was soon known in Dinan that a terrible combat would take place between the two knights, and the people feared that Du Guesclin would fall, because the Englishman was possessed of such extraordinary strength and skill. But a very beautiful young lady of noble family in Dinan, named Tiphaine de Raguenel, whom Bertrand married soon after the siege was raised, predicted that he would triumph over his foe. Tiphaine was called an astrologer, because she professed to foretell by observing the stars in the heavens, whether people were to be prosperous in their lives or unfortunate; happy or miserable. This was very foolish, and we know better in our own times than to put faith in such a science; and even in Dinan, when by chance Tiphaine's predictions came true, the people looked upon her with distrust and called her a witch. The Duke of Lancaster with all his nobles came into the town to witness the combat, which ended to the great joy of the inhabitants of Dinan in the triumph of Bertrand, and the offending knight was ordered by Lancaster to retire from his service.

The siege of Dinan was raised by our King Edward, who had King John of France at this time a prisoner in the palace of the Savoy. Du Guesclin went on fighting for Charles de Blois, until at last the younger Jean de Montfort got weary of the war, and proposed to his rival that the Duchy of Bretagne should be halved between them; and that Rennes should be the capital of Charles's dominions, and Nantes the capital of his own. Charles de Blois was a man who loved peace; he agreed solemnly to divide the duchy as Jean had proposed, and would have kept faith with him, had not his wife broken out into a violent passion as soon as she heard what he had done, and overruled him by saying that she would never consent to so shameful a settlement, and that she had married him to defend the whole of her duchy, and not the half of it. The war must have broken out again at once if the good offices of Lancaster had not effected a truce for a time.

When King John came back to France he invited Du Guesclin to enter his service, and gave him the command of a hundred lances. Each lance, or man-at-arms, was attended by three archers, a man armed with a cutlass, and a page, so that a company of a hundred lances really included six hundred men. Du Guesclin had the permission to form his troop of the gentlemen of Bretagne, of whom many were his relations and friends; and with these he set out hopefully to take part in a war which King John was carrying on in Normandy against the wicked King of Navarre.

Bertrand did the king good service in Normandy, and captured the towns of Mantes and Meulan. At the latter place he lost all patience with the tardiness of the besiegers, and seizing a ladder, began to mount it with his sword in his hand, and his shield on his breast. He was just mounting the last steps and boasting to the Baron of Mereuil who was on the other side of the wall, that he would soon make him feel the strength of his arm, when the baron threw some heavy stones on the ladder, which dashed it to pieces, and Bertrand fell with his head downwards into the ditch around the city wall. The ditch was full of water, and Bertrand was taken out by his comrades half dead, but he scarcely waited for his injuries to be healed, before he began to fight with greater vigour than before, and a little while later gained the battle of Cocherel over the Captal de Buche, who was fighting for the King of Navarre, and took the Captal prisoner.

King John was now dead, and Charles the Wise was on the throne of France. The victory at Cocherel had served to raise the spirits of the French, who had been much cast down by their defeats during the two last sieges, and the fame of Du Guesclin was spoken all over the country.

But the war unhappily broke out in Bretagne once more. Jean de Montfort, angry with his rival for his breach of faith, came with his army to invest the town of Auray. The people there were in great need and misery, and lighted fires every night on the summits of their towers in token of their distress. Charles de Blois set off at once to assist them in their danger, but his wife at parting, charged him on no account whatever to agree to any division of the duchy. Du Guesclin and many brave nobles and knights hastened to join his army; and when they arrived in sight of Auray, De Montfort sent a herald to them to propose peace on the terms that had already been made, or to demand an immediate battle.

Charles de Blois, weakly dreading the anger of his wife if he gave way, sent the herald back without an answer, although in his heart he was longing more than ever to be at peace.

In the disastrous battle of Auray which began soon after, and lasted for seven hours, Charles de Blois lost his life, the celebrated Oliver Du Clisson an eye, and Du Guesclin his liberty. It was late in the day, and Bertrand was left almost alone upon the battle field with the dead lying around him; he had been thrown from his horse, and surrounded by his enemies, but he had risen from the ground and defended himself single-handed to the last. Now the blood was flowing from his wounds; his sword was broken; the handle had been wrenched off his battle-axe, and Sir John Chandos found him armed only with an iron hammer. It was useless for him to resist longer, and when he had given up the broken piece of his sword into the hands of the English knight, the battle was at an end.

Charles de Blois had fought that day like one in despair. With his last breath he had said that he had long waged war against his conscience. And thus the feud was ended which had lasted for nearly twenty years; Jean de Montfort could have the whole duchy of Bretagne for himself, and the unhappy widow of his rival had the sorrow of remembering that it was her own pride and unbending spirit which had cost her the life of her husband. The people of Bretagne were so tired of war that when, a little while after, the treaty, which Jean de Montfort was making with Jeanne, could not be settled, they assembled in a vast concourse and throwing themselves on the ground, implored the Count to give them peace.

The King of France did not suffer Bertrand to remain a captive long. The country was at that time infested by bands of lawless men of various nations, who called themselves "Free Companies," and used to go about laying waste the orchards and fields, sacking and burning the castles of the nobility; and making war just as they pleased. The greater number of these men were disbanded soldiers, whose services were no longer needed now that the war was at an end.

Their power became very formidable when such men as Sir Hugh de Caverlay, the Green Knight, Sir Matthew Gournay, and many others who were renowned for their valour, joined them, and elected themselves their leaders.

The thought occurred to King Charles that Du Guesclin was the one man capable of ridding his country of so terrible a scourge, and he hastened to pay the hundred thousand francs which his enemies had required for his ransom, and told him that if he would consent to drive the Free Companies out of France, he might choose his own method of carrying out his purpose.

Du Guesclin went to the camp where the Free Lances were assembled, and, as many of the leaders had already served under his banner, he found little difficulty in persuading them to go with him into Spain on a crusade against the Saracens, who still retained possession of a part of that country. But a war had already broken out between Pedro the Second of Spain and his half brother, Henry of Trastamare. Pedro had made himself hateful to his subjects by repeated acts of tyranny, and worst of all had suffered his wife, Blanche de Bourbon, to be cruelly murdered. This princess was very amiable and lovely; she was sister to the Queen of France, and granddaughter to the good Saint Louis, and Charles, indignant and sorrowful at her unhappy fate, thought the services of Du Guesclin would be better employed in driving Pedro from the throne than in making war on the Saracens.

Bertrand was therefore ordered to hasten to the assistance of Henry of Trastamare, and one day he collected all the Free Companies at a place called Chalons sur Saone, and marched from thence southwards, to the great delight of the French nation, taking Avignon on his way, where the Pope then resided, instead of at Rome.

The companies went to Avignon to ask for absolution, because they had been excommunicated, that is to say, cut off from all fellowship with the church, on account of their lawless deeds. The Pope readily granted them absolution, but he was not nearly so ready to give them a large sum of money--which they asked for in addition to the 200,000 gold florins which they had already received from Du Guesclin--and it was only after a long delay, that he could be persuaded to give them any money at all.

The troops Du Guesclin led himself were called "The White Company," because they all wore a white cross on their shoulder, as a sign that they meant to abolish the religion of the Jews, which Pedro was supposed to favour. Pedro was very much alarmed at the approach of so vast an army; he happened to be engaged at the time in laying waste with fire and sword the lands belonging to his brother, whilst Henry himself was hiding in a castle with his wife and children, and for a long while could not be made to believe that the French hero was really coming to his aid.

Du Guesclin soon enabled him, however, to gain possession of several cities, and at a frontier town, called Maguelon Home, he took the title of King. And when the people of Burgos (which was the Christian capital of Spain at that time) heard of the approach of the White Company, they brought the keys of the city, and laid them at the feet of Henry, and joyfully acknowledged that he was King over Castille. Henry made a triumphant entry into Burgos, with Bertrand, his deliverer, clad in complete armour by his side; they went to the palace, where a great banquet was served before them, with the richest viands, while the whole city was one scene of rejoicing and merriment, and wine flowed in the streets like water; the people were so glad to be freed from the tyranny of Pedro the Second.

Bertrand having thus placed Henry of Trastamare on the throne, urged him to send for his wife Jeanne, that they might both be crowned the same day. And when the Queen was seen approaching the capital, Bertrand went out to meet her, accompanied by the bravest of his knights. As soon as the Queen perceived that it was Du Guesclin who was advancing towards her, she alighted from her mule that she might render him the greater honour, and turning to his whole company, she exclaimed, "Friends, and gentlemen, it may truly be said that we hold the crown of Castille through you alone." Henry and Jeanne were crowned at Burgos on Easter-day of the year 1366, and the King, in gratitude for the services of Du Guesclin, gave him the Duchy of Molina, and made him constable of Castille.

Pedro meanwhile was in great terror at the approach of his brother, and kept himself concealed with his treasures in a forest a hundred leagues long. One of his treasures was a table of pure gold, inlaid with jewels, and engraven with the portraits of Charlemagne's twelve peerless knights. Amongst the gems was a carbuncle, which is said to have had the peculiar property of shining by night as brightly as the sun shines by day; and one very dark night, when Pedro was outside the walls of a city, and beset with dangers on every side, he was obliged to have his table fetched out from among his treasures, that he might discover by its light the means of escape. The stone may have possessed a singular brilliancy, but for the fact of its shining as brightly as the sunlight, I cannot vouch. It was said to have another strange property, that of changing colour and turning black directly poison approached it.

The forest was near the town of Cardonna, where Pedro had taken refuge, immediately after the great city of Toledo had surrendered to his brother. Henry supposed him to be still in the town, and went in pursuit of him with Du Guesclin, Hugh de Caverlay, Olivier de Mauny, and many other valiant men. Their way between Toledo and Cardonna lay through the long forest, which was full of wild beasts and snakes, and had neither villages nor houses of any kind in its depths. They were in this wild tract seven days, and lost many of their men there; some of them being devoured by the wild beasts, and others dying from the bites of the snakes. When they got to Cardonna they found, of course, that Pedro had fled, but they took possession of the town.

Now that Henry had really been placed on the throne, Bertrand thought he might carry out his original plan, and proceed to Granada, which was the stronghold and capital of the Moors in Spain. The Queen, however, with many tears implored him not to forsake her husband; she dreaded so much the anger and cruelty of Pedro, when he should come out of his hiding-place. And Pedro soon made himself dreaded once more, for he had found his way to Guienne and entreated the Black Prince, who held his court in that province, to protect him, and assist him with troops; and had offered him his golden table, and part of his treasures as an equivalent for his aid; promising him, besides, a large sum of money to defray the cost of an army. The Black Prince, either out of compassion for the fallen King, or because he did not like to see his rival in league with France, agreed to assist him; and in the spring of the year 1367 crossed the province of Navarre with Pedro, and a large army of Gascons, Normans, and English, and entered Castille.

The fortunes of Henry already began to decline: several of the Companies withdrew from his service, and enlisted themselves in preference under the banner of the Black Prince. Du Guesclin urged the King not to risk a decisive battle too soon, but he would not listen to him, and the two armies met at Najara, on the right bank of the river Ebro. The watchword of the Black Prince's army was "Guienne and St. George!" and that of King Henry's, "Castille and St. James!"

The battle proved disastrous for the King of Castille, his cavalry were forced to give way, and the rout becoming general he escaped from the field with very few of his followers. When Bertrand saw the King's discomfiture, he stationed himself against a wall, and with a battle-axe defended himself so vigorously that several Englishmen were overthrown by him; and at last his enemies dared not approach him, but only hurled at him their daggers and swords. The Black Prince, hearing of this, desired to see him, and went with his standard unfurled to the place where he stood. Bertrand recognised the Prince, and kneeling on one knee before him said, "To you, Sire, the Prince of Wales, I surrender myself and to no other; for I will never be the captive of Pedro, e'en though I die in my defence!"

The Prince received the submission of Du Guesclin graciously, and confided him to the keeping of the Captal de Buche, who in remembrance of his own capture by Bertrand in the battle of Cocherel, told him kindly that he might live with him at large, if he would give him his word not to escape. Du Guesclin, much pleased with the confidence reposed in him, swore, like a true knight, that he would rather die than break his word.

For six months he remained with the English army, and during that time had no cause to complain of his treatment. But as soon as he arrived at Bordeaux, where the Black Prince held his splendid Court, he was shut up in the prison of Ha. One morning whilst he was there, three pilgrims, who had arrived in Bordeaux the evening before, had gone to hear mass in the Church of Notre Dame. One of these pilgrims was Henry of Trastamare, who had disguised himself thus in the hope of journeying safely to the Duke of Anjou, to entreat him to support his cause.

Several knights happened to be in the church, who had fought with Du Guesclin in the battle of Najara; they began talking of their common misfortunes, and Henry, taking one of them apart, asked news of Bertrand, and learned with sorrow that the Black Prince had made a vow never to ransom him or set him free. Henry went home with the knight to whom he had spoken, and told him who he was, and persuaded him to procure him the means of seeing Du Guesclin. So the knight concealed the King in his house, and went to the prison of Ha, and told the gaoler that he was going to Bretagne to seek for money to pay his ransom, and that he greatly desired to see Du Guesclin before he started.

The gaoler did not admit him at once, but only hinted that such things were not done without a bribe. The knight assured him that Du Guesclin was most liberal, and would amply reward him if he would procure the interview. The gaoler owned that he was so proud of his prisoner, that he hoped such a man might never go out of his hands, and after a little more delay he conducted the knight to Bertrand, who thought that his visitor had come to borrow money, and was much surprised to hear that Henry of Trastamare was in Bordeaux in the disguise of a pilgrim of St. James. He called the gaoler, and told him that there was a poor pilgrim in the city, a native of Bretagne, and one of his own vassals, whom he wished to assist with money to enable him to complete his journey; and he begged him to take his seal and go to a certain Italian jew in the city, and ask him for the sum of 400 florins. The gaoler fetched the money; Du Guesclin gave him a hundred florins for himself, and by noon the King was admitted into the prison. A more sumptuous dinner than was usually seen within its walls was served in his honour, and they lingered over it, talking of their misfortunes and of the King's project for seeking aid from the Duke of Anjou; Du Guesclin would not, however, on any account suffer him to ask the duke to pay his ransom. Whilst they were at dinner the gaoler began to feel the pricks of his conscience, and he took his wife apart, and told her that he suspected some treason was going on between the pilgrim and Du Guesclin against his master the Black Prince, and that he must acquaint him with the whole affair. The gaoler's wife whispered her husband's intentions to Bertrand, and the brave knight, with a dexterity similar to that he had employed, when as a boy he freed himself from the dungeon of La Motte, did not suffer his keeper to pass through the prison wicket, but dealt him so heavy a blow with a stick that the poor man fell on his knees: then taking the keys from his pocket, he opened the door to Henry, who quickly disappeared with his two companions and the knight who had accompanied him thus far. Bertrand closed the door upon them, and keeping the keys, came back to the gaoler and, after giving him a good beating, shut him up in a room by himself, as a warning that the transaction was not to be breathed beyond the prison walls.

The Duke of Anjou assisted Henry, and enabled him to enter Burgos a second time, whilst Pedro was obliged to fly from the throne he had re-ascended after the battle of Najara. Many of the knights who had been taken prisoners in that contest were now ransomed, but Du Guesclin, "the scourge of the English," as he was called, was deemed too formidable an enemy to be set at large; and he might have remained in prison until his dying day, had not some of the English nobles, who held his qualities in high esteem, remonstrated with their prince in his favour, and taunted him by saying that he only retained his prisoner through fear.

The Black Prince at last resolved to have an interview with his captive, and Du Guesclin, overjoyed at the prospect of obtaining his release, rose hastily at the prince's summons, and appeared before him in the soiled and coarse grey robe he wore in his prison, but which could not detract from the dignity of his bearing. He told the prince that he was indeed weary of his long confinement; "I have listened to the rats and mice long enough," he said, "and I would fain go where I can hear the birds sing once more."

The prince told him that he would set him free that very day without a ransom, if he would swear never again to bear arms against him for France; or against Pedro for Henry. These conditions Bertrand of course could not accept, and before the interview was ended he had spoken with so much honesty and candour, that the Black Prince could not but own the righteousness of his cause, and requested him to name his own ransom. Bertrand fixed it at 100,000 gold florins, and when the prince asked him why he named so large a sum, he declared his ransom should not be less than 70,000 florins, adding that although he was a poor knight, the Kings of France and Castille would assuredly pay that sum for him; and that if they did not that the Breton women would spin till they had gained the money for him.

He was now set at liberty on condition of obtaining his ransom. The people of Bordeaux flocked to see him when he came out of his prison, and the Princess of Wales, Joanna the Fair, journeyed expressly from Angouleme to Bordeaux that she might have the honour of entertaining him at a banquet, and presented him besides with 10,000 francs towards his ransom. Sir John Chandos and Hugh de Caverlay helped also to raise the sum required. Chandos was always his friend, although he fought on the opposite side; and it may be that these brave men esteemed one another the more for clinging to what each one believed to be the right.

Du Guesclin had hardly gone a league on his way homewards when he met a poor knight who was returning to his prison in Bordeaux on foot, in a very forlorn condition, because he was unable to pay his ransom. Bertrand not only gave him the money to pay it, but also enough to set him up in arms.

The knight told him that the Duke of Anjou was then besieging the town of Tarascon. Bertrand was bound in honour not to fight; but he could not resist going to Tarascon, to aid the duke with his advice, and made the besieged tremble at the very sound of his name. And there he was in the midst of all the danger, and the clashing of weapons, mounted on his horse, but with a peeled rod in his hand, instead of a sword, for his oath's sake!

When he reached his own estate in Bretagne, he begged his wife to give him her jewels, and all the valuable things she possessed; but she told him that a number of poor knights and squires, all taken at Najara, had come to her in great distress, and that she had given them all she could find in the castle. Bertrand was very glad that his wife had been so kind to the poor men, and had not sent them away empty handed. The sum for his ransom was raised amongst his relations and friends, and he had set out for Bordeaux, when he met ten poor knights, whose ransoms he could not resist paying; preferring to remain a captive himself rather than to know that so many others were languishing in prison, away from their homes, and all whom they loved.

When the Black Prince heard of Bertrand's generosity, he did not shut him up in a dungeon again, but let him go about the city as he pleased on his word of honour that he would not escape. A day came when mules were seen approaching Bordeaux loaded with 70,000 good gold florins which the kings of France and Castille and the Duke of Anjou had sent to purchase his liberty.

Du Guesclin, a free man once more, devoted himself entirely to the cause of Henry, and defeated Pedro in a great battle near Toledo, notwithstanding the help afforded the Spanish King by the Moors. The fortunes of Pedro now rapidly declined, the Black Prince not caring to aid him again, because he had not kept the promises he made before the battle of Najara.

After a battle fought near Montiel,[11] in the south of Spain, Pedro took refuge in the Castle of Montiel, in which there was only one way of going in or coming out, and before this entrance Le Begue de Vilaines, who was fighting for Henry, stationed himself with his pennon. In this extremity it was arranged that Pedro should make his escape from the castle at midnight with twelve of his companions. It was a dark misty night, and when Pedro crept out of the castle, Le Begue, who stood waiting for him with three hundred men, could not see him, but fancied he heard the sound of footsteps.

"Who art thou?" he cried, "Speak, or thou art a dead man." The first one addressed escaped in the darkness. The next who came, Le Begue believed to be the king, and asked him who he was with the dagger held close to his breast. Then Pedro, seeing he had no chance of escape, cried "Begue, Begue, I am the King, Don Pedro, of Castille;" and surrendering himself to him he implored him to take him to some place where he should be beyond the reach of his half-brother.

Le Begue took him to his own quarters, but he had not been there long before Henry of Trastamare and some of his followers entered the chamber where he was concealed; and in the furious struggle which ensued Pedro was slain by the hands of his brother. Thus died this unhappy king, whose many evil deeds gained for him the surname of "The Cruel;" but Henry was very wicked and cruel also to take his brother's life, and could not have been happy when he remembered Montiel, although he had now undisputed possession of the throne.

Du Guesclin was now at liberty to return to his own country. The King of Castille parted from him with great regret, and gave him some handsome presents in token of gratitude for the services he had rendered him. Du Guesclin on his return, was constantly employed in the war which broke out again between England and France, and regained many of the places which the English had taken from the French. The time came when King Charles thought that the wisest measure he could pursue would be to make Bertrand, Constable of France, which was the highest office in all the realm. Bertrand was unwilling to accept so great an honour, saying that there were many men more worthy of it than himself. Charles declared, however, that there was neither prince nor noble in the land who would not cheerfully obey the brave knight, and Du Guesclin was made Constable. From that time he was surrounded by all the dignity and splendour of the court, and always sat at the table with the king.

But certain it is when men have reached their highest estate, they are very often near a fall. Bertrand was again employed in Bretagne, when meeting with some reverses, he incurred the king's displeasure. Charles, having listened to some evil reports which were spread against him, did not scruple to express his discontent, and Bertrand took the matter so much to heart that he resigned his Constable's sword, and was only induced to resume his office when the king found out that the reports were untrue, and tried to atone to him for the mistake he had made. In the year 1380, Bertrand was sent to drive the English out of the south of France. He was very glad to go thither, because it always grieved him to make war on the people of his own province of Bretagne. After reducing some places of little importance, he went to help his friend Sancerre in the siege of the Castle of Randan, which was possessed by the English, and some Gascons, who were unfriendly to France. The Constable pressed the siege with vigour and vowed that he would never depart from the spot till the castle was taken. And he never did depart from thence alive, for he was seized with a violent fever, which in a short time proved fatal. The knowledge of his danger made the besiegers more anxious than ever to gain the fortress, and the garrison were obliged at last to agree to surrender on a certain day.

The Sire de Roos, the governor of the castle, having been informed of the dangerous condition of Du Guesclin, desired to render up the keys into his own hands; and when the appointed day had arrived, he came out of the gates, followed by all the garrison. It was summer time, and the rays of the setting sun shone on their unfurled banners, as they went to the tent, where the dying Constable lay. His knights were standing sorrowfully around him; they could not bear to think that he would never rise from his bed again, that his voice would never more cheer them on to victory. The English themselves shed tears at the mournful spectacle.

When Du Guesclin had prayed that his sins might be forgiven him, he entreated the nobles and knights to be faithful to their king, and not make war, which would cause the blood of peasants, and defenceless old men, and women and children to be shed; remembering with sorrow how heedlessly he had himself waged war in the days of his youth. Then dismissing them all except his friend Du Clisson, he asked for his constable's sword, and prayed him to deliver it into the hands of the king, and when they had bidden each other a last farewell, Du Clisson stood by him in tears and in silence until his spirit passed away.

So died Du Guesclin, the Hero of Chivalry, a man with many failings, but brave and generous beyond comparison, and ever faithful to his friends. Although the violence of his temper broke out at intervals all his life long, he could be kind and gentle. Queens and princesses esteemed him for his respectful courtesy, and we like to read, how, when the Black Prince summoned him to his presence, the stern warrior was found playing merrily with his gaoler's children, inside the dreary walls of his prison.

Some authors assert that the governor of the Castle of Randan only laid the keys on the coffin of Du Guesclin; but the most probable account is that he really gave them into his hands before he died.

Charles the Wise grieved sincerely for the loss the country had sustained, and ordered the remains of the Constable to be interred in the Church of Saint Denis with almost regal pomp.

Jeanne de Laval, the second wife of Du Guesclin, founded several religious houses, and instituted services in memory of her illustrious husband.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] The green knight fell in this battle.

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.

Christopher Columbo, or Columbus, was born in the city of Genoa, about the year 1436. His father, Domenico Columbo, earned the bread of his family by combing wool, which, however lowly it may be thought at the present time, was once a very honourable occupation, and was invented three hundred years after the birth of our Lord by Blaise, the good martyr-bishop of Armenia, who to this day is regarded as the patron of woolcombers.

Christopher had two brothers, Bartholomew, and Diego, and one sister; of the latter there is nothing particular recorded. The three brothers loved one another dearly. Bartholomew had a brave and ardent spirit, and was fond of an active life; in the troubles and dangers they shared in after years Christopher would call him "another self;" and he said not long before he died that his brothers had always been his best friends. Christopher as a child was quiet and thoughtful. He loved to stand on the shore of the beautiful bay spreading out at the feet of Genoa, "the city of marble palaces," and to watch the waves under their different aspects; now dancing joyously in the sunshine; then great sea-horses, foaming and dashing with terrible noise on the sands; now again, loveliest of all, lying at rest as if tired, in the solemn quiet of night, and giving back myriads of golden gleams for every star that twinkled in the clear Italian sky. And whilst Christopher thus watched the sea, he had very strange ideas for a young child, for he thought that the whole of the world had not been discovered, and that beyond the great Atlantic Ocean, which he had only heard of, there were lands that had never yet been trodden by Europeans. At the time he lived the Portuguese had discovered the Cape Verde Isles in the Atlantic, much of the western coast of Africa, and the Cape of Good Hope. They wanted some of the gold, amber, and ivory, the rich silks, and the fragrant woods and spices of India, and to trade in these things they had to find out a way to the East by sea, because the Venetians took care to keep the overland route to India clear for themselves. Venice, on the eastern side of Italy, and Genoa, on the western side, shared all the commerce of that country, but they were not on friendly terms; and for years and years the Genoese were trying to drive the Turks, Venetians, and Spaniards out of the Mediterranean Sea, that they might carry on their own commerce without being molested.

When Domenico Colombo found that his son Christopher had a very strong desire to be a sailor, he did not force him to pass his life in combing wool, but sent him to a famed school at Pavia, where he might learn such things as would be useful to him in the career he had chosen. So Columbus learned diligently about the earth, the sea, and the stars, and something of drawing and mathematics beside. When he was fourteen he returned to Genoa, and went to sea for the first time with one of his relations, who was likewise named Colombo. This man was a corsair, and had many a bold skirmish with the Turks and Venetians. During several years Christopher sailed with him from one place to another, and got used to a seafaring life. It happened in one of the skirmishes which took place between Lisbon and Cape St. Vincent, that fire broke out in a huge Venetian galley to which the vessel Christopher commanded for his kinsman had been chained during the fight; the flames quickly spread to the spot where he stood, and to save his life he was obliged to jump from the deck into the waves. Fortunately he had grasped an oar, and with this he was enabled to reach the shore of Portugal, at the distance of two leagues from the burning vessels. From thence he went to Lisbon, where he was kindly received by some Genoese, and he determined to remain in that city, because there were better means there of studying and of carrying out the plans he was making for a voyage in search of unknown lands. The Portuguese themselves were eager to make fresh discoveries: their mariners, sailing westward from the Azores, had seen floating on the waters corpses belonging to a race of men unknown in Europe, Africa, or Asia; besides these there were trunks and branches of strange trees, and huge sugar-canes which had been wafted through the Atlantic by the Gulf Stream. All these objects made them think that only a portion of the inhabited world had yet been revealed to them.

Two centuries had passed since Marco Polo, the bold Venetian explorer, had set out from Constantinople for the land of the Tartars. There he had found a friend in the great Kublai Khan, who ruled over Tartary and China, and was sent by him on a mission to China and India, being thus the first European who visited China Proper. On his return he told such extraordinary tales of the people he had seen, and their customs, that most men were afraid to believe in them, and thought they were pure inventions. Years after, when the countries he had described became known to the Europeans, it was found that he had spoken a great deal of truth, and his example caused fresh enterprises to be projected. Men must not despair because they do not at once see the fruit of their labour: if they only undertake it in a true and steadfast spirit, it is sure to turn sooner or later to the benefit of their fellow-creatures. Truly great men do not toil for themselves but for the good they may do to others; they sow the seed, and in God's time, not theirs, it will bear fruit.

In Lisbon Columbus married Dona Felippa, the daughter of a poor but noble Italian named Perestrello, the governor of the island of Porto Santo, one of the Madeiras, which had only lately been found. Perestrello was a very famous navigator, and lost his life in the service of Portugal. After his marriage Columbus went to live in the house of his wife's mother, and she gave him all the charts her husband had drawn, and the accounts he had written of his voyages, which proved very useful to him because they made him familiar with all the parts of the world the Portuguese had hitherto explored. So he lived on in Lisbon, supporting his wife and his mother by making and selling maps and globes, besides which he used to send a part of the money he earned to his aged father at Genoa, and helped his brothers also by enabling them to go to school. Sometimes he would leave home for a while, and take part in the expeditions that were directed towards the coast of Guinea, or he would visit Porto Santo, where he had a friend in Pietro Correo, who had once been governor of the island, and was married to his wife's sister. Yet although he was made very happy by the birth of his son Diego, it was sad to wait year after year without any chance of starting on his voyage; for, poor as he was, it was quite impossible for him to buy vessels and man them at his own expense.

Some of the ancient philosophers who flourished centuries before the birth of our Lord had convinced themselves that the earth was round. That such is the case is shown by the appearance of a vessel after it has left the shore. At a certain distance the whole of it is seen; farther off only its hulk or body; at a greater distance still, the topmast alone is visible. This proves that something hides the lower part of the ship from the spectator, and that something, is the roundness of the earth. Again--when an eclipse of the moon takes place the moon enters the shadow of the earth, and cannot get the light of the sun, which, reflected on her surface, gives her the bright silvery glow which makes her so lovely by night, and so we appear to lose the whole, or part of her face. Now the shadow that is seen being round, the earth must be round from which it is cast. And when men found, in the days when very long voyages were undertaken, that by sailing and journeying in one direction they came back to the point whence they had started, they wanted indeed no further proof that such was the correct figure of the earth. Thus it was natural for Columbus to expect to reach the eastern shore of India, or of Cathay (as China was then called) by sailing westward across the Atlantic, never dreaming that the earth was so large as it is, and that the pathway he went would make known to the people of the Old World the whole vast continent of America, and the Pacific, the greatest of all Oceans!

Having been refused assistance in his native city, he resolved at last to lay his plans before John the Second of Portugal. The king referred the matter to a Council, where it was soon decided that the voyage could not be carried out, but Columbus was not easily disheartened, as his patience during one-and-twenty years proved, and he begged the Portuguese monarch so earnestly to assist him that he had almost been supplied with the vessels he required, had there not been in Lisbon some persons who were very jealous of him, and wanted the glory of making the attempt themselves. These persons gained information of the proposed route, and then set out in secret to try it, not unknown, as it is said, to the king. But when they had been out at sea some time, and saw the waves spread out around them as far as sight could reach, they lost all courage, and put back to Lisbon as quickly as they could, saying on their return that the voyage could never be tried.

Columbus was indignant at being treated thus: he had passed fourteen years of his life in waiting, and had thought and studied so much for the enterprise on which he had set his heart that he had made no fortune for himself. His gentle wife Felippa was dead; and one day he bid farewell to his home in Lisbon and quitted Portugal with the idea of laying his cause before Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. First of all, however, he went to Genoa, where he saw his father, and provided out of his own scanty means for the old man's comfort.

When he arrived in Spain he sought the favour and assistance of two powerful Spanish nobles, the duke of Medina Sidonia and the Duke of Medina Coeli. The latter was the kinder of the two; he was just going to give Columbus three or four caravels, which lay opposite the port of Cadiz, when he suddenly thought that the enterprise was so vast, that none but a king should direct it. He spoke so kindly, however, of Columbus to Queen Isabella, that she desired him to repair to her court at Cordova.

When he arrived he found the city like a camp, and the king and queen entirely occupied in preparing for a grand campaign against the Moors. One Moorish city after another had indeed yielded to the Spanish arms, but the invaders who had held ground in Spain for nearly eight hundred years, were still in possession of much of the southern part of the country. At such a moment Isabella had no time to listen to the demands of a needy adventurer like Columbus, and his humble dress and his poverty made him an object of contempt in the eyes of the haughty Spanish grandees. At last, through the efforts of the Grand Cardinal of Spain, he was allowed to enter the presence of Ferdinand. The king ordered him to plead his cause before a great council of learned monks at Salamanca. During the time it was held, Columbus was a guest in the convent of St. Stephen, which was the foundation of the famous university of Salamanca. The monks of the convent were kind to him; they entered into his plans, and believed that the voyage he proposed would lead to great discoveries; and prove the source of infinite benefit to mankind; but those who came to confer with them were not of the same opinion, and they tried, by quoting the Holy Scriptures, to convince Columbus that he was in error. Now Columbus was a very devout man, and one strong inducement for him to undertake the voyage was, the hope of spreading the gospel in distant parts of the world, and he must have been greatly pained when sentence was passed against him, and his views except by a few, were misunderstood and treated as idle dreams. Nevertheless he lingered on in Spain, in the hope that his appeal for aid might be heard one day by Isabella herself, who was of a more noble and generous character than her husband. So he followed the court from place to place as the seat of war changed, and in one campaign he bore an honourable part in the struggle with the Moors; while part of the time he remained in Spain he lived quietly at Cordova, earning his bread by making charts, and maps, as he had done before at Lisbon. When he heard that the city of Granada, the stronghold of the Moors, was to be invested by the Spanish army, he determined to make one more appeal, for he was sure that the king and queen would be too busy to listen to him, when the siege had once begun. All they would do was to promise to hear him when they should be released from the cares of war, and Columbus, grieving to think that he had wasted so many years of his life in useless waiting, made up his mind to leave Spain for ever, and apply for aid at the court of France.

From the time he left Cordova little is known of him until he appeared at the gate of the Convent of St. Maria de Rabida, which stood in the midst of a forest of pine trees, near the port of Palos, in Andalusia. His son Diego was with him; the boy was both tired and hungry, for they had come a long way without resting. Just as Columbus was asking for some bread and water for him at the gate, Friar Juan Perez, the guardian of the convent happened to pass by. The good friar welcomed the strangers kindly; he bade them enter, and in the course of conversation Columbus opened his heart to him and told him about his plans, and his firm trust that by the grace of God he should be able to carry them out. Friar Juan had already thought on the subject himself, and he was so delighted with the ideas of Columbus that he sent for two friends to confer with him: one was Fernandez Garcia, a physician of Palos, who had a great longing to go in search of unknown lands; the other was Martin Alonzo Pinzon, a merchant who had vessels of his own, and traded with many foreign ports. These were presently joined by some mariners of Palos, who had had much experience at sea.

Friar Juan persuaded Columbus to stay a little longer in Spain, and wrote a letter to Queen Isabella, hoping that his influence might induce her to sanction the enterprise, since he had once been her confessor, and had always been held by her in great esteem. The court had removed to Santa Fe, and an honest pilot, named Sebastian Rodriguez, undertook to convey the letter thither. At the end of a fortnight he brought back an answer from the queen which gave hope and joy to Columbus and his friends, and caused Friar Juan to saddle his mule in haste, and set out at midnight for the Spanish court. Isabella was indeed beginning to think the voyage worthy of consideration, and wished to talk on the subject with Juan himself. And very soon she summoned Columbus to Santa Fe, and sent him some money to enable him to buy a mule for his journey, and a dress suitable to appear in at court, so that he might no longer be despised for his needy attire.