THE DEATH OF RICHARD II. KING OF ENGLAND.

The popular errors and misstatements that exist in history are innumerable. The writers of the early annals of England, as those of other countries, have generally had a strong feeling for the marvellous, and where different versions of an event obtained, have chosen rather that which was most striking and dramatic, than that which was most true, or best supported by contemporary evidence. Later historians have but too often adopted their stories without doubt or examination.

One of such narratives is that of the death of King Richard II., which represents that unfortunate but vicious monarch as being murdered in Pomfret Castle by Sir Piers of Exton and his assistants, but not till he had made a most heroic resistance, snatching a battle-axe from one of his assailants, and with it laying no less than four of them dead at his feet.

This was the account inserted in all our current histories, and learnt by every school-boy in Goldsmith’s Abridgement: but within these few years the ingenious Mr. Tytler, in his History of Scotland, has inserted a very different one, and maintains,—“that Richard contrived to effect his escape from Pomfret Castle; that he travelled in disguise to the Scottish Isles; and that he was there discovered, in the kitchen of Donald, the Lord of the Isles, by a jester, who had been bred up at his court;—that Donald, Lord of the Isles, sent him, under the charge of the Lord Montgomery, to Robert III., King of Scotland, by whom he was supported as became his rank, so long as that monarch lived;—that he was; after the death of the king, delivered to the Duke of Albany, the governor of the kingdom, by whom he was honourably treated;—and that he finally died in the castle of Stirling, in the year 1419, and was buried on the north side of the altar, in the church of the preaching friars, in the town of that name.”

Now this story, which has been adopted by Sir Walter Scott in his epitome of Scottish History, and which is as romantic as our popular version, seems to be, like it, decidedly incorrect. All contemporary historians of the death of Richard II. give a totally different account from either of the preceding. “Of these, Thomas of Walsingham, Thomas Otterbourne, the Monk of Evesham, who wrote the life of Richard, and the continuator of the Chronicle of Croyland, all relate that Richard voluntarily starved himself to death, in a fit of despair, in his prison at Pomfret. To these must also be added the testimony of Gower the poet to the same effect, who was not only a contemporary, but had been himself patronised by Richard.”

The last sentence is extracted from an interesting paper lately read by Lord Dover before the Royal Society of Literature. By comparing the different authorities Lord Dover has clearly proved the incorrectness of the two stories; and though evidence is wanting to substantiate the fact, that Richard was not “for-hungered,” or starved to death by his keepers, “the probabilities of the case would appear to be very strongly in favour of his voluntary starvation.”

Courts of Justice among Crows.—Those extraordinary assemblies, which may be called crow-courts, are observed here (in the Feroe Islands) as well as in the Scotch Isles; they collect in great numbers as if they had been all summoned for the occasion. A few of the flock sit with drooping heads; others seem as grave as if they were judges, and some are exceedingly active and noisy, like lawyers and witnesses; in the course of about an hour the company generally disperse, and it is not uncommon, after they have flown away, to find one or two left dead on the spot.—Landt’s Description of Feroe Islands.

Dr. Edmonstone, in his view of the Shetland Islands, says that sometimes the crow-court, or meeting, does not appear to be complete before the expiration of a day or two, crows coming from all quarters to the session. As soon as they are all arrived, a very general noise ensues, the business of the court is opened, and shortly after, they all fall upon one or two individual crows (who are supposed to have been condemned by their peers) and put them to death. When the execution is over, they quietly disperse.

A Persian philosopher, being asked by what method he had acquired so much knowledge, answered, “By not being prevented by shame from asking questions when I was ignorant.”

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