course which, with our light, it is impossible to defend; but which,
in those days, was of a kind which was by far too common. The sentence
of a primate could only be absolutely nullified by an authority of a
still higher kind. Hence, to undo the act of Winchelsey, the king sent
to Rome, and asked of the pope a bull, cancelling and setting aside all
the obligations of 1301.
This is a step which we shall not attempt to justify, however
consistent it might be with the general belief of those days: in truth,
we feel it to be the weakest and most indefensible act of Edward’s
life. Yet still we must not forget, that it was consistent with the
current belief of those days. Men knew then, as we know now, that
some vows are rash vows; that some oaths, like that of Herod (Mark
vi. 26), are unfit to be kept; and they believed also—what we do not
believe—that Christ had left authority with the bishop of Rome, to
“bind and loose” in all such matters; and that when he had declared
any oath or vow to be null and void, it became as though it had never
been given. These views, as we have said, were held by all men at that
time;[114] and although we now reject them, we ought to judge any
man’s character mainly by his adherence to what he conscientiously
believes to be true; acting honestly on that measure of light which he
possesses.
There was also another feature of the case which greatly weighed with
the king; a feature, too, which our courts of equity up to the present
hour always take into the account, when examining into the validity of
a man’s engagements; we mean, that of coercion and intimidation.
He had left Winchelsey, in 1297, one of the council of the young
prince. The council, on Wallace’s success, called a parliament in
London; and to that parliament there came Hereford and Norfolk, with a
large body of armed retainers, and insisted on a fresh confirmation of
the charters, with a new clause. Their demands were remitted to Edward
in Flanders, with an earnest request, on the part of the council, that
he would concede to the wish of the two earls. So advised, the king
assented to these proposals. Since then, it had been shown to him, that
all these proceedings in 1297 were the result of a conspiracy between
Winchelsey and the two earls; and he had had a letter put into his
hands which proved this fact. At Lincoln, too, in 1301, he had observed
the same conspiracy or confederacy at work; and had again found that
civil war was contemplated and prepared for by the conspirators. Thus a
sort of treason had been, for three or four years, going on all around
him. Any man of a generous and noble mind, and with a just sense of
his kingly rights, would naturally feel indignant at such treatment;
and Edward, in his application to the pope, dwells especially on these
proceedings, as taking from his engagements that character of freedom
which ought to attend them. In our own day, if a woman, in contracting
a marriage, or a man, in giving a bond, is found to have been acting
under coercion or fear, or to have been the victim of a conspiracy,
those obligations can be set aside by our courts of equity. Rome, at
that time, claimed to be the court of equity for all the sovereigns
of Europe, and the pope professed to act upon principles which are
recognized by English lawyers in the present day. The bull was granted,
and the extorted concessions declared to be null and void.
Many historians have expressed their wonder that this bull, when
obtained, was scarcely acted upon. “The power was not, in fact,” says
Hume, “made use of.” “The king made,” says Lingard, “no public use of
this document.”
This wonder arises from a misconception of the king’s real views and
objects. Many writers assume, most absurdly, that Edward was hostile
to “the charters.” Yet one of his first acts, as Hume admits, after
receiving the papal absolution, was to grant “a new confirmation of the
charters;” thus showing, in the most direct and palpable manner, that
it was not against “the charters” that his efforts had been directed.
If we wish to understand the king’s actions, and their motives, we have
only to study his own words, and there we shall soon discover, that
it was to rectify some of the evil consequences of the disafforesting
regulations of 1305, and to nullify Winchelsey’s sentence of
excommunication, that this papal absolution was procured. The bull
arrived in Easter 1306, and its publication declared to the people that
the archbishop’s anathema was made null and void. But the king left
them but a short time in doubt as to his intentions; for on the 28th
of May came forth that remarkable statute which appears on the hundred
and forty‐seventh page of the “Statutes of the Realm,” and in which
the king addresses himself to the hearts and understandings of his
subjects, in the following fervent expressions:—
“The king, to all whom, etc.—Greeting:
“While we behold the imperfection of human weakness, and weigh with
attentive consideration the burdens that lie upon our shoulders, we are
inwardly tormented with divers compunctions, tossed about by the waves
of divers thoughts, and are frequently troubled, _passing sleepless
nights_, hesitating in our inmost soul _upon what ought to be done_,
what to be held, or what to be prosecuted.[115] Yet, under Him, who,
holding in heaven the empire over all things, bringeth everything
into existence, and dispenseth the gifts of his grace as it pleaseth
Him, while the understandings of men cannot conceive the greatness of
his wisdom, We do _resume our power_, trusting that He will perfect
our actions in his service; and in the clemency of his goodness, will
mercifully look upon, and supply our deficiency; that we, relying on
his protection, may be directed in the path of our Lord’s commandments.
Truly, among all the things that rest upon our care, about this chiefly
is our mind busied without intermission, that we may provide ease and
comfort for our subjects dwelling in our realm, in whose quietness we
have rest, and in whose tranquillity we are comforted. We have learned,
by the information of our faithful servants, and by the cries of the
oppressed, that the people of our realm are, by the officers of our
forests, oppressed and troubled with many wrongs, … Wherefore, being
desirous to prevent such oppressions, and grievances, … and to
provide with our most diligent endeavour for the peace and tranquillity
of the inhabitants of our realm, We have ordained,
1. (Of presentments of offences.)
2. (Of supplying of officers.)
3. (No officer to be of any jury.)
4. (Punishment of officers surcharging.)
5. (Trespassers in grounds disafforested.)
6. “And moreover we will, that they which had common of pasture in the
forest before the perambulation was made, and who were restrained of
common by the late perambulation, shall have their common of pasture
hereafter in the forest, as freely and largely as they wont to have
before the perambulation was made.”
This ordinance was sent to the several counties of England, and
ordered to be publicly proclaimed. And in it we see the fruit, and
the only fruit, of the papal absolution. It is hardly correct to say,
as some historians have said, that the king made no use of the bull
of absolution: we believe that he made all the use of it that he ever
intended or desired to make. In some way or other, he had felt himself
in a measure _uncrowned_ by some regulation made at Lincoln; and hence
he says, on obtaining the papal annulment, “We do _resume_ our power.”
But then, the only use he makes of that power is to relieve those who,
by the disafforesting, “were put out of the forests by the great men,”
and who cried to him for help. As for any infringement or retrenchment,
either of Magna Charta, or of the Charter of the Forests, not the least
step of the kind is imputed to him, even by the most prejudiced of all
the historians. Yet are some of these very ready to ascribe to him a
desire or intention of this kind; although they admit that for some
undiscoverable reason, it never exhibited itself in action!
Such, then, was the real character, and such the practical results,
of those disputes and discussions respecting “the charters,” which
occurred between 1297 and 1306—_i.e._, between the twenty‐fifth and
thirty‐fourth years of Edward’s reign. On the whole, the people were
largely gainers by these discussions; but that they were so, is
mainly to be attributed to the constant anxiety shown by the king
to meet generously all the demands which were made upon him; and to
concede to his people all that it was in his power to grant, “without
disinheriting the crown.”
* * * * *
One or two other matters of minor, but yet of considerable importance,
require to be mentioned at this period of the history; that is, during
the last five years of the king’s life.
We have already dwelt at some length upon Edward’s character as a
legislator; and his high rank as a commander requires no proof from us.
But England, at this important crisis in her history, needed a man of
power in a third capacity—that of a _ruler;_ and she found this also
in Edward. Two reigns, of sovereigns in various ways unfit to rule,
had so far relaxed the bonds of society, and weakened the authority
of the law, as to call loudly for the effectual interposition of
some one whose power should be sufficient to make the laws not only
theoretically just, but also practically useful.
Forty or fifty years before this period, Henry III. had been obliged
to sit in person on the bench of justice at Winchester, in order to
secure the punishment of offenders who had rendered even the roads
of Hampshire dangerous. Some years later we have seen earl Warenne
assailing, sword in hand, one of the king’s judges in Westminster Hall.
Edward had himself suppressed this mutiny; and, persevering in his
determination to make the law respected, he next brought the judges
themselves to trial, for corrupting that which it was their especial
duty to preserve. His correction of the two earls, Hereford and
Gloucester, who, in his twentieth year, had broken out into a vehement
personal warfare; and his Statute of Winchester “for preserving
the public peace and preventing robberies,” were further proofs of
his sedulous and firm resolve to give his people the benefit of a
government of law and order. But, about the thirty‐second year of his
reign, he found a new evil uprearing itself; and, without any delay, he
applied to it the most suitable remedy—a Special Commission.
The mischief itself, which this new authority was intended to suppress,
was described in the writs which gave the commission its existence.
Bodies of men had associated themselves together in various parts of
the country, who, “for certain rewards, bargained to beat, wound,
or evil‐intreat persons named to them, at fairs, markets, or other
places;” and, by the fear which they inspired, these ruffians deterred
the sufferers from preferring indictments against them. Such an evil
required instant and strong‐handed suppression, and this it received at
Edward’s hands.
Peter Langtoft, after describing the siege and fall of Stirling, and
the death of earl Warenne, proceeds to describe this evil, and the
king’s plan for its suppression. He says—
“After the interment the king took his way;
To the south he went, through Lindesay;
He inquired, as he went, who did such trespass;
Brake his peace with deed, while he in Scotland was?
Of such should be spoken, if men of them plaint,
Those that the peace had broken, if they might be attaint.
Wise men of God gave answer to the king,
That such folks were, it was a certain thing;
Through the land is done such great grievance,
That if not mended soon, a war may rise of chance.
These contenders where’er they assigned a place that is,
There they come together, and made a sikerness (engagement)
That they shall all go, to whom or where they will,
To rob, beat, or slay, against all manner skill.
They offer a man to beat, for two shillings or three;
With piked staves great, beaten shall he be:
In fair or market they shall seek him out;
All the land is set with such folks stout.
* * * * *
For men of such manners, unless there be some justice,
In some few years, perchance, a war shall rise.
The king heard all they said—the plaint of each town;
And gave them a new name, and called them ‘Trailbastoun.’
* * * * *
The king through the land did seek men of renown,
And with the justices them bound, to sit on Trailbastoun;
Some on quest they ’demned to be bounden in prisons;
And those that fled they banisht as the king’s felons.”
The phrase _trail‐baston_ is, in old French, “draw the staff.” The
use and intent of it in the present case has been learnedly discussed
by various writers; but it appears to be beyond a doubt that, as
Sir Francis Palgrave remarks, “it designates the _offender_ and the
_offence_, not the court or tribunal.” In the “Chronicle of Rochester,”
already referred to—on the margin of which we find various pictorial
illustrations—the representation here given is of two men fighting
with bludgeons. And it is evident that the real object of this special
commission was to put down, in a resolute and summary manner, what in
modern phrase would be styled “club‐law.” These commissions seem to
have been so useful and efficient, as to be continued for about eighty
years, or until the middle of the reign of Richard II. Stowe speaks
of them as holding special sessions, occasionally, in the metropolis;
mentioning particularly “at the stone‐cross near the Strand, over
against the bishop of Coventry’s house;” and sometimes within that
prelate’s mansion.
Calling to mind the terrible example made of the judges in the
seventeenth year of Edward’s reign, and combining with it this special
and vigorous suppression of provincial disorders, we cannot fail to be
reminded of the portrait sketched by the laureate in his recent Idylls;
or avoid a question, whether the poet had not this sovereign in his
memory when he drew such a portrait:—
“The blameless king went forth and cast his eyes
On whom his father Uther left in charge
Long since to guard the justice of the king.
He looked, and found them wanting; and as now
Men weed the white horse on the Berkshire hills,
To keep him bright and clean as heretofore,
He rooted out the slothful officer
Or guilty, which, for bribe had winked at wrong;
And in their chairs set up a stronger race,
With hearts and hands …
… and moving everywhere,
Cleared the dark places and let in the law,
And broke the bandit‐holds, and cleansed the land.”
One or two other incidents, bearing upon the same point in the king’s
character, fall in our way at this period;—that is, in the last three
or four years of Edward’s life.
Sir Nicholas de Segrave was a knight of distinction, probably a brother
of John de Segrave, who commanded the English forces at Roslyn. Sir
John de Cromwell accused him of treason. Segrave, disliking the
formalities of a legal investigation, challenged his accuser to decide
the question by wager of battle. But Edward, whose discerning mind
always revolted from the absurd idea of deciding a question of _right_
or _wrong_ by mere physical force, and who had, twenty years before,
protested against such a proposal when made by two foreign princes,
very naturally refused his consent. The combatants, apparently, thought
that they might evade his decision, by crossing the sea, to fight the
duel in France. Segrave returned, and was immediately arrested for
disregarding the king’s prohibition. The case, doubtless, was a novel
one, and when the offender was brought to trial, the judges remained
three days in deliberation; and at last declared the offender to be
liable to the punishment of death, and the forfeiture of his property;
but added, gratuitously, that “it was in the king’s power to pardon
him.” Edward’s indignant exclamation seems to reveal one point in his
character. “Foolish men,” he cried out, “after so long a deliberation,
to tell me that it is in my power to have mercy! Why, I will do that
for a dog who casts himself on my grace!—of what value, then, is such
a recommendation? However, put your sentence into writing, that it may
remain law for the future.” Segrave was then remanded to prison; but
after a few days, thirty knights petitioned for his pardon, and offered
to be sureties for his future good behaviour. So entreated, Edward gave
him a free pardon, and released his property from forfeiture.
In the “Placita Roll” of 1304 there occurs the following entry:—
“Roger de Heefham complained to the king, that whereas he was the
justice appointed to hear and determine a dispute between Mary, the
wife of William de Braose, plaintiff, and William de Brewes, defendant,
respecting a sum of eight hundred marks which she claimed from him,
and had decided in favour of the former; the said William, immediately
after judgment was pronounced, contemptuously approached the bar, and
asked the said Roger, in gross and upbraiding language, if he would
defend that judgment; and he afterwards insulted him, in bitter and
taunting terms, as he was going through the exchequer‐chamber, saying,
‘Roger, Roger, thou hast now obtained thy will of that thou hast long
desired.’
“For this offence, William de Brewes, being arraigned before the king
and his council, acknowledged his guilt; and because contempt and
disrespect, as well towards the king’s ministers as towards the king
himself or his court, are very odious to the king, as hath of late
expressly appeared when his majesty expelled from his household, for
nearly half a year, his dearly‐beloved son, Edward prince of Wales,
on account of certain improper words which he had addressed to one of
his ministers, and suffered him not to enter his presence until he
had rendered satisfaction to the said officer for his offence—it was
agreed by the king and his council that the aforesaid William should
proceed unattired, bareheaded, and holding a torch in his hand, from
the king’s bench in Westminster Hall, in full court, to the exchequer,
and there ask pardon from the aforesaid Roger, and make an apology for
his trespass, and shall be afterwards committed to the Tower, during
the king’s pleasure.”
The pointed reference here made to the king’s anger and stern rebukes
of his son, naturally directs our thoughts to this passage in Edward’s
life. His prescient consciousness of the young prince’s weakness, and
his strong dislike to Gaveston, his chief seducer, are already well
known. We have alluded to one distinguished man, who is indicated in
the above extract, as the minister with whom the young prince had been
brought into collision. Walter Langton, bishop of Chester (sometimes
called bishop of Lichfield or Coventry), was the king’s treasurer;
and the prince had a stated income payable out of the royal exchequer.
Under such guidance as that of Gaveston, it was inevitable that this
income would prove insufficient; and that urgent demands for larger
supplies would naturally follow. Hence the quarrels and the violent
language, alluded to in the sentence on William de Brewes. Another
glimpse of light on this subject is afforded by a letter from the
prince to the earl of Lincoln, which has recently been discovered
in the chapterhouse at Westminster. In that letter the prince thus
describes these circumstances:—
“On Sunday, the 13th of June, we came to Midhurst, where we found
our lord the king, our father. On the Monday following, on account
of certain words which, it had been reported to the king, had taken
place between us and the bishop of Chester, he was so enraged with us
that he has forbidden us, or any of our retinue, to dare to enter his
house; and he has forbidden all the people of his household and of the
exchequer to give or lend us anything for the support of our household.
We are staying at Midhurst to wait his pleasure and favour, and we
shall follow after him, as well as we are able, at a distance of ten
or twelve miles from his house, until we have been able to recover his
good will; which we very much desire. Wherefore we especially entreat
you, that on your return from Canterbury, you would come towards us;
for we have great need of your aid and your counsel.”
The firmness and severity of the king, in this instance, was of no
ordinary kind, and we know from the after‐life of the younger Edward,
that extreme severity was absolutely necessary. The royal prohibition
was so effectual, that the young prince encountered real difficulties,
and the king was induced, in the course of July to recal his
prohibition, and to allow things to revert to their ordinary course.
But so long as Gaveston was the prince’s companion, it was inevitable
that his course should be a vicious and a wretched one. The quarrels
with the king’s treasurer recurred continually, and in 1305 we read
that—
“This year king Edward put his son, prince Edward, in prison, because
that he had riotously broken into the park of Walter Langton, bishop
of Chester, and destroyed the deer. And because the prince had done
this deed by the procurement of a lewd and wanton person, one Piers
Gaveston, an esquire of Gascony, the king banished him (Gaveston) out
of the realm; lest the prince, who delighted much in his company,
might, by his evil and wanton conduct, fall into evil and naughty
rule.”[116]
We now know, by the sad fate of Edward II., how well‐founded were
his father’s apprehensions. We see, too, how great was Gaveston’s
ascendancy, and his consequent audacity, in that he appears very
quickly to have stolen back again into the prince’s society. For we
find an ordinance for his banishment, dated “Lanercost, Feb. 26, 1307,”
in which he is commanded to swear that he will not return; and the
prince, that he will not recal him. And so strong was the conviction
which had fastened on the king’s mind, of the fatal tendency of this
friendship, that one of his last injunctions to the prince, just before
his death, was, _never to recal Gaveston_. That injunction, however,
like all others, was disregarded; and the loss of his throne, and of
his life, was young Edward’s well‐merited punishment.
Footnotes:
[110] Matthew of Westminster.
[111] And not only so; but we find writs of the date of May, 1300,
appointing three justices in Leicestershire, and the like in
other counties, “to hear and determine, in a summary manner, all
complaints of transgressions against the charters.”
[112] See Appendix.
[113] “History of Lichfield Cathedral,” p. 57.
[114] Thus Mr. Tytler tells us of Brace’s conduct in 1297;—that
“Bruce went to Carlisle with a numerous attendance of his friends,
and was compelled to make oath on the consecrated host, that he
would continue faithful to Edward. To give a proof of his fidelity,
he ravaged the estates of Sir W. Douglas, then with Wallace, seized
his wife and children, and carried them to Annandale. Having thus
defeated suspicion, and saved his lands, he privately assembled his
father’s retainers, talked lightly of an extorted oath, _from which
the pope would absolve him_, and urged them to follow him against
the English.” (Vol. i., p. 129.)
[115] In these remarkable words, occurring in a statute of the
realm, and dictated, we cannot doubt, by Edward’s own lips, we
seem to have a glimpse of his earnest and sincere character.
Believing, as all men in his day believed, that there was a Pontiff
at Rome who had full power “to bind and to loose,” he had applied
to that authority, and had been loosed, so he was assured, from
an engagement which was mischievous in itself, and which had been
improperly extorted from him. Yet, with this dispensation in his
possession, what follows? He himself tells us: “sleepless nights.”
What occasioned them? Evidently that first principle of all his
conduct of which Mr. Pearson takes notice: “He never broke his
word.” No papal bull, no external decision of any kind, could
thoroughly reconcile him to an infraction of the Scriptural rule:
“He sweareth to his neighbour, and disappointeth him not, though it
were to his own hurt.”
[116] Caxton’s Chronicle, Matthew of Westminster, Fabyan, Holinshed.
XII.
THE SETTLEMENT OF SCOTLAND, A.D. 1303-1305.