The page of history which records the proceedings of the two hostile parties, from the day of Richard's reaching Conway to the hour of his falling into the hands of Henry, presents in every line transactions stained with so much of falsehood and baseness, such revolting treachery and deceit, such wilful deliberate perjury, that we would gladly pass it over unread, or throw upon it the most cursory glance compatible with a bare knowledge of the facts. But whilst the desperate wickedness of the human heart is made to stand out through these transactions in most frightful colours, and whilst we shudder at the wanton prostitution of the most solemn ordinances of the Gospel, there so painfully (p. 061) exemplified, the same page suggests to us topics of gratitude and of admonition,--gratitude that we live in an age when these shameless violations of moral and religious bonds would not be tolerated; and admonition that the principles of integrity and righteousness can alone exalt a people, or be consistent with sound policy. The truth of history here stamps the king, the nobleman, the prelate, and the more humble instruments of the deeds then done, with the indelible stain of dishonour and falsehood, and a reckless violation of law human and divine. The King, believing his case to be desperate, implored his friends to advise him what course to adopt. At their suggestion he sent off the Dukes of Exeter and Surrey to remonstrate with Bolinbroke, and to ascertain his real designs. Meanwhile he retired with his little party of adherents, not more than sixteen in all, first to Beaumaris; then to Caernarvon, where he stayed four or five days, living on the most scanty supply of the coarsest food, and having nothing better to lie upon than a bed of straw. Though this was a very secure place for him to await the issue of the present course of events, yet, unable to endure such privations any longer, he returned to Conway. Henry, meanwhile, having reduced Holt Castle,[66] and possessed himself (p. 062) of an immense treasure deposited there by Richard, was bent on securing the person of that unhappy King. He consequently detained the two Dukes in Chester Castle; and then, at the suggestion, it is said, of Arundel, sent off the Earl of Northumberland with an injunction not to return till either by truce or force he should bring back the King with him. The Duke, attended by one thousand archers and four hundred lances, advanced to Flint Castle, which forthwith surrendered to him. From Flint he proceeded along a toilsome road over mountains and rocks to Ruddlan, the gates of which were thrown open to him; when he promised the aged castellan the enjoyment of his post there for life. Richard knew nothing of these proceedings, and wondered at the absence of his two noble messengers, who had started for Chester eight days before. Northumberland, meanwhile, having left his men concealed in ambush "under the rough and lofty cliffs of a rock," proceeded with