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

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

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

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

“The King discharged the Prince from his counsail,
And set my lord Sir Thomas in his stead,
Chief of the council for the King’s more avail;
For which the Prince, of wrath and wilful head,
Again him made debate and froward tread,
With whom the King took part and held the field,
To time the Prince unto the King him yield.”

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

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

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

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

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