Chapter XXVIII A POET KING

The Bruce is a book which is the outcome of the history of the times.  It is the outcome of the quarrels between England and Scotland, and of Scotland’s struggle for freedom.  Now we come to another poet, and another poem which was the outcome of the quarrels between England and Scotland.  For although Scotland’s freedom was never again in danger, the quarrels between the two countries were, unhappily, not over.

In 1399, as we know, Henry IV wrested the crown of England from Richard II.  The new King proved no friend to Scotland, for he desired, as those before him had desired, to rule both countries.  Henry lost no chance, therefore, by which he might gain his end.  So when in 1405 the King of Scotland sent his little son James to be educated in France, the English attacked the ship in which he sailed and took him prisoner.  Instead, then, of going as a guest to the court of France, the Prince was carried as a prisoner to the court of England.  When the old King heard the sad news he died, and James, captive though he was, became King of Scotland.

Those were again troublous times in Scotland.  The captive King’s uncle was chosen as Regent to rule in his absence.  But he, wishing to rule himself, had no desire that his nephew should be set free.  So through the reigns of Henry IV and of Henry V James remained a prisoner.  But although a prisoner he was not harshly treated, and the Kings of England took care that he should receive an education worthy of a prince.  James was taught to read and write English, French, and Latin.  He was taught to fence and wrestle, and indeed to do everything as a knight should.  Prince James was a willing pupil; he loved his books, and looked forward to the coming of his teachers, who lightened the loneliness of his prison.

“But,” says a Frenchman who has written a beautiful little book about this captive King, “’stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage’:  the soul of the child, who grew to be a youth, was never a prisoner.  Behind the thick walls of the Tower, built long ago by the Conqueror, he studied.  Guards watched over him, but his spirit was far away voyaging in the realms of poetry.  And in these thought journeys, sitting at his little window, with a big book upon his knee, he visited the famous places which the Gesta Romanorum unrolled before him. . . .  The ‘noble senator’ Boece taught him resignation.  William de Lorris took him by the hand and led him to the garden of the Rose.  The illustrious Chaucer invited him to follow the gay troop of pilgrims along the highroad to Canterbury.  The grave Gower, announcing in advance a sermon of several hours, begged him to be seated, and to the murmur of his wise talk, his head leaning on the window frame, the child slept peacefully.

“Thus passed the years, and the chief change that they brought was a change of prison.  After the Tower it was the Castle of Nottingham, another citadel of the Norman time, then Evesham, then again the Tower when Henry V came to the throne; and at last, and this was by contrast almost liberty, the Castle of Windsor."*