Henry was a widower, his first wife having
been Mary de Bohun, with whom early in life
he had eloped from the old castle the crow has
already visited at Pleshy. Joanna started from
Camaret, a small port near Brest, and arrived
at Falmouth storm-driven, attended by her two
infant daughters, Blanche and Marguerite,
their nurses, and a gay crowd of Breton and
Navarese attendants. The fair widow of France
was a beautiful woman, with small regular
features and a broad forehead. Her handsome
husband-elect received her at Winchester,
attended by many lords and knights. The marriage
took place with great pomp in the ancient
royal city at the church of St. Swithin. The
bridal feast was thought very costly, and was
remarkable for two courses of fish and the
introduction of crowned eagles and crowned
panthers in confectionery during intervals of
the meal.

After her husband's death Joanna got on
but badly, for her step-son, Henry the Fifth,
plundered her of half her dowry, and accused
her of witchcraft. She had also to mourn
when the nation that had adopted her was
rejoicing, for her son Arthur, attacking our
outposts at Agincourt with a whirlwind of
French cavalry, was desperately wounded,
struck down, and taken prisoner. Her son-in-
law the Duke d'Alençon, who had cloven
Henry's jewelled helmet, was also slain in the
same battle, and her brother, the Constable of
France, died of his wounds the following day.
Joanna ended her troubled life at Havering-
atte-Bower, in 1437, and her ghost is supposed
still to haunt the ruins of the palace there.
Joanna's arms, an ermine collared and chained,
were formerly conspicuous in the windows of
Christchurch, near Newgate.

The next royal wedding at Winchester was
the ill-omened and fruitless union of Mary
and Philip. The gloomy Spanish king, with
the projecting jaw and the hard cruel eyes,
landed at Southampton, with the Duke of
Alva and other memorable Spanish nobles.
He was dressed in plain black velvet, a
black cap hung with gold chains, and a red
felt cloak. Gardiner, the notorious Bishop of
Winchester, escorted him to that venerable
city with a train of one hundred and fifty
gentlemen, dressed in black velvet and black
cloth, and with rich gold chains round their
necks. The cavalcade rode slowly over the
heavy roads to Winchester, in a cruel and
pitiless rain. On the next day, the 25th of
July, St. James's day, took place the nuptials.
The gloomy bridegroom wore white satin trunk-
hose and a robe of rich brocade, bordered with
pearls and diamonds. The ill-favoured bride
was attired in a white satin gown and coif,
scarlet shoes, and a black velvet scarf. The
chair on which she sat, a present from the
Pope, who had insufficiently blessed it, is still
shown at the cathedral. Gardiner and Bonner
were both present, rejoicing at the match, and
four other bishops, stately with their crosiers.
Sixty Spanish grandees attended Philip. The
hall of the episcopal palace where the bridal
banquet took place was hung with silk and
gold striped arras, the plate was solid gold.
The Winchester boys recited Latin epithalamiums,
and were rewarded by the queen. A
year after that time, Philip left Mary and
England for ever.

One of the interesting historical events that
have dignified Winchester, was the defiance
hurled at Henry the Fifth, just about to embark
at Southampton for his invasion of Normandy,
by the gallant French ambassador, the
Archbishop of Bruges. On Henry saying, through
the Archbishop of Canterbury, that he would
not rest satisfied with anything short of all the
territories formerly possessed by England, the
French prelate replied that Henry would
certainly be driven back to the sea, and lose either
his liberty or his life. He then exclaimed, "I
have done with England, and I demand my
passport." Our chivalrous young king had never
forgiven the Frenchmen's insolent present of a
cask of tennis balls, in scorn of the wild
excesses which had disgraced his youth.

"When I use them," he said, bitterly, "I
will strike them back with such a racket as
shall force open Paris gates!"

After his house at Newmarket was burnt
down, Charles the Second squandered nearly
twenty thousand pounds, according to Evelyn,
in building a palace on the site of the old
castle. It was to have cost thirty-five thousand
pounds, and to have been a hunting
seat. The first stone was laid by the swarthy
king in person, March 23, 1683. James
stopped the building, but Queen Anne came
to see, and wished to have completed it for
her dully respectable husband, Prince George
of Denmark. In the French war of 1756, five
thousand prisoners cooked their soup and
cursed the English within its walls; in 1792
some poor famished French curés occupied it;
and in 1796 it became what it has since been;
a common barrack. Wren's design included a
large cupola, sixty feet above the roof, that
was to have been a sea mark, and a handsome
street leading in a direct line from the cathedral
to the palace.

It was at Winchester, in August, 1685, that
the detestable Judge Jeffreys began the
butchery that King James so much desired,
with the trial of dame Alicia Lisle, a venerable
and respected woman of more than seventy, the
widow of one of Cromwell's lords (one of King
Charles's judges, some say) who had been
assassinated at Lausanne by the Royalists.
She was accused of harbouring John Hickes, a
Nonconformist divine, and Richard Nelthorpe,
a fugitive lawyer, who had dabbled in the Rye
House Plot. The chief witness, a man named
Dunne, living at Warminster, deposed that
some days after the battle of Sedgemoor
(which was in July), a short, swarthy, dark-
haired man sent him to Lady Lisle at Moyles
Court, near Fordingbridge, to know if she
could give Hickes shelter. Lady Lisle desired
them to come on the following Tuesday, and
on the evening of that day he escorted two
horsemen, "a full, fat, black man, and a thin