_greatness_ in the lower acceptation of the term. He was “the model of
a politic and warlike king,” says Hume. He was “a great statesman and
commander,” says Mackintosh. But all the higher qualities of mental
and moral excellence were denied to him. Hume speaks of his “barbarous
policy,” and declares that “never were the principles of equity
violated with less scruple or reserve,” adding that “the iniquity of
his claim was apparent, and was aggravated by the most egregious breach
of trust.” Dr. Henry speaks of Edward’s “unrelenting selfishness,” of
his “cruelty and iniquity,” and, again, of his “injustice and cruelty.”
Sir James Mackintosh tells how he had “skilfully inveigled the Scotch
into his snares,” adding that “his ambition tainted all his acts,” and
that “a conqueror is a perpetual plotter against the safety of all
nations.” And Sir Walter Scott speaks of him as “bold and crafty,” “a
subtle and unhesitating politician.” Following such leaders as these,
it is no wonder that all our school histories, for almost a century
past, have taught the youth of England to regard this king as an able
and valiant, but withal an unprincipled man.[174]
Such was the position of affairs, a few years back, when a volume made
its appearance[175] which challenged the justice of this verdict, and
called, with warmth and earnestness, for a reconsideration of the
case. It was a hasty production; it had many palpable faults; it was,
not unnaturally, charged with “a partisan spirit,” but in its main
object it has been entirely successful. It induced many men of literary
eminence to take up the question of this great king’s real character.
They went to the only source of truth on all such questions—to
contemporary testimony. They examined and weighed it, and the result
has been, a reversal of the verdict.
Do we speak with too much confidence on this point? Let the reader
peruse the following declarations:—
In Trinity Term, in 1864, a meeting was held of “The Oxford Historical
Society,”—its president, professor Goldwin Smith, in the chair—for
the consideration of the volume aforesaid (“The Greatest of the
Plantagenets”). A paper or elaborate criticism, was read by professor
Montagu Burrows, on that volume. In it, he said,—
“This work demands our attention, because it is a bold and, on the
whole, successful attempt to reclaim for him, who is perhaps the only
sovereign of England since the Conquest who has a right to the title of
‘Great,’ that position of which he has been deprived for more than a
century,—deprived by a number of causes almost unparalleled for the way
in which they have combined towards such a result.”
After a lengthened review of the work, in which professor Burrows spoke
of the writer’s “masterly narrative of the facts attending the double
conquest of Scotland,” and added, “He has conclusively disposed of
the leading Scotch fables, and recovered as much of the truth as we
shall probably ever know. The great outlines of the story, which form
the groundwork of the Scottish Iliad, have been for the first time
thoroughly marked out by the help of every available authority;”—the
professor concluded his review in the following manner:—
“This king was called by the writers of the next generation ‘Edward
the Good,’ and it has been to our shame as a nation that we have been
so careless of a royal reputation, and that so little effort has
been made to restore him his rights. If the highest perfection as a
soldier, and all but the highest as a general; if patience, fortitude,
prudence, mental activity, largeness of mind, public spirit; if a
correct private life, a conscientious sense of duty, and a consistent
religious character go to make up a great man,—Edward I. is entitled
to the name. Place him by the side of those sovereigns who, since the
time of Charlemagne and Alfred, have received the title of ‘Great,’ and
how insignificant do they appear. Perhaps the time may come when a more
enlightened public opinion shall repair this omission. And among those
to whom a very considerable share of credit will be due, will be the
author of the work we have just been considering.”
The president, Mr. Goldwin Smith, summed up the matter in a few
concluding words. These words have weight, as coming from a man who
could never have been brought to approve a course of “iniquity,”
“selfishness,” “vindictiveness,” “violence,” and “ferocity.” He
said that “So far from Edward’s invasion being intended to reduce
Scotland to slavery, its object was to introduce the same regular and
constitutional quiet which England enjoyed, and to rescue the Scotch
from the anarchy resulting from the oppression of the most oppressive
of the feudal oligarchies. The kingdom of Scotland was previously in
an almost hopeless state of feudal anarchy. One of the first things
Edward did was to summon a free Parliament, and he left them with all
their independence, and with all their rights as a nation. The short
period when he had possession of the kingdom, was the only glimpse
they ever had of a lawful, regular, and beneficent government. Wallace
was more truly represented, he thought, by the author of ‘The Greatest
of all the Plantagenets’ than by professor Burrows.[176] He was an
irregular rebel, like the Neapolitan brigands of the present day.”[177]
Mr. Goldwin Smith quitted England, and his successor in the Regius
professorship at Oxford was Mr. Stubbs. That gentleman has recently
given to the world a volume of much value, “On the Early English
Charters.” Having occasion to speak of Edward I., he thus characterizes
him:—
“This great monarch, whose commanding spirit, defining and organizing
power, and thorough honesty of character, place him in strong contrast
not merely with his father, but with all the rest of our long line of
kings, was not likely to surrender, without a struggle, the position
which he had inherited. For more than twenty years he reigned as Henry
II. had done, showing proper respect for constitutional forms, but
exercising the reality of despotic power. He loved his people, and
therefore did not oppress them; they knew and loved him, and endured
the pressure of taxation, which would not have been imposed if it had
not been necessary. He admits them to a share, a large share, in the
process of government; he developes and defines the constitution in a
way which Simon de Montfort had never contemplated. The organization
of parliament is completed until it seems as perfect as it is at the
present day; and the legislation is so full that the laws of the
next three centuries are little more than a necessary expansion of
it.” He adds, of the king himself, that “His own personal character
was high, pure, and true.” Finally, in closing his investigation, he
says: “We stop at Edward I. because the machinery is now completed;
the people are now at full growth. And the attaining this point is to
be attributed to the defining genius, the political wisdom, and the
honesty of this great king.”[178]
We turn to a fourth writer of the same class;—to the Regius professor
of Modern History at Belfast, Mr. Yonge. He concludes his review of
this reign with these words:—
“Among the rulers of mankind who have won for themselves a conspicuous
and honourable place in the history of their country, Edward has no
superior, and scarcely an equal. Personal prowess, which in other
heroes makes up the greater part of their renown, was in him so
over‐shadowed by more valuable qualities as to be scarcely entitled to
notice; and the invincible knight is lost in the consummate general,
the wise lawgiver, the far‐sighted statesman.” “It was no personal
or vulgar ambition that prompted his attacks on Wales and Scotland,
but a judicious perception of the advantages to be derived, not by
England alone, but by the invaded countries, from their union into
one kingdom. He was ambitious, not so much of being the conqueror, as
the benefactor, of the whole island.” “Kings are subjected to a more
rigid tribunal than ordinary men, from the fact of their conspicuous
position; and we have no right to expect that faultlessness in a
sovereign which we know it to be vain to look for in others. But as
long as the equitable rule prevails of balancing men’s virtues against
their faults, and looking at the general results of their conduct,
so long will the splendid and universal abilities of Edward I., and
the great and lasting benefits which his country has derived from
them, secure him a leading, if not the very first, place among those
monarchs who have left an example to be revered by their countrymen and
imitated by their successors.”[179]
Sir E. Creasy expresses a similar opinion, but with more brevity,
closing his review of Edward’s reign with one decisive sentence:—
“If we take a comprehensive and unprejudiced view of his whole
career, we shall rest satisfied that few greater men have ever
reigned; and that there has been hardly any man, royal or subject,
to whom Englishmen ought to look with more gratitude than Edward,
as the promoter of our power, and the ordainer of our laws and our
constitution.”[180]
A sixth writer, of our own day, who has carefully investigated these
questions, is Mr. C. H. Pearson. There is not a trace of partiality in
the portrait which he draws; yet a sincere and warm admiration draws
from him such expressions as these:—
“Brave almost to insanity, the king was also a consummate general,
able to discipline raw levies, and to carry out engineering works with
singular audacity and resource.” He was also “large‐minded towards mere
personal enemies, but never pardoning baseness or broken faith.”
Mr. Pearson notices also “a strong love of justice,” “a slowness to
shed blood,” and “a greatness of nature which carried him through every
difficulty.” “His people knew that he did everything for England; and
he inspired trust, for he never broke his word.” He was “our first
truly English king;” he was “the greatest of his race;” and, finally,
“among those of our kings whom we really know, there is, perhaps, no
greater name than that of Edward I.”
And, just as this sheet is passing through the press, a seventh
testimony of no small value is given by Mr. E. A. Freeman.[181] He
discusses, in one of his Essays, the whole merits of the Scottish
controversy of 1290-1307, and he declares, that “if any man’s conduct
ever was marked by thorough justice and disinterestedness, that
of king Edward was so marked throughout the whole business.” “His
conduct was throughout honest and above‐board.” Of Wallace he says,
“It is impossible to deny the fiendish brutalities practised by him
in England,—brutalities which fully explain the intense hatred with
which every English writer speaks of him”:—And of Bruce, that “he
treacherously and sacrilegiously murdered John Comyn, the heir of the
Scottish crown.” He adds, “that all who were concerned in this murder
met with their merited punishment, who can wonder?—it is certain that
Edward punished no man who would not be held liable to punishment at
the present moment.” As to Edward himself, Mr. Freeman’s opinion is
briefly summed up in a very few words: He was “the greatest and noblest
king that England has seen for eight hundred years.”
* * * * *
Such have been the independent and deliberate judgments of seven
different writers of high rank within the last few years. Let us
endeavour, then, in conclusion, to group together all the various
characteristics, ascribed to Edward by writers of various countries
and different ages, many of whom regarded his general career with
unconcealed dislike. Praise from this latter class must be allowed to
have a peculiar value.
Edward, then, was,—“A great statesman and commander; the model of a
politic and warlike king; the most sagacious and resolute of English
princes; uniting legislative wisdom with heroic valour. In him the
state possessed a centre and a chief, who knew how to concentrate and
direct all the forces of society. No man was more acute in counsel,
more fervid in eloquence, more self‐possessed in danger, more cautious
in prosperity, more firm in adversity. He was unequalled by any
since the Conqueror for prudence, valour, and success.” Such are the
admissions of severe critics;—of Mackintosh, Hume, Scott, Alison,
Guizot, Sharon Turner, and Hallam.
But he was more than wise and strong; he was upright, he was thoroughly
honest; he was merciful and good.
“He was ambitious, not so much of being the conqueror as the benefactor
of the whole island. He could demand confidence, for his people knew
that he did everything for England; he inspired trust, for he never
broke his word; he was as careful in performing his obligations as
in exacting his rights.[182] He had a strong love of justice, a
legislative mind; he was one of the best legislators and greatest
politicians that ever filled the English throne. Large‐minded towards
mere personal enemies; he was a wise lawgiver, a far‐sighted statesman.
He was slow to shed blood;—never was a conquest more merciful than his
in Wales. Finally, he was the greatest and noblest king that England
has seen for eight hundred years.”
Such are the deliberate judgments of professor Yonge, of Mr. Pearson,
Mackintosh, Dr. Henry, and Mr. Freeman.
They go far to form a complete character. But one more feature,—the
interior and personal, remains to be added.
“His character as a son, as a husband, and as a father was without
stain; in his private relations he was beyond reproach. A man of deep
and earnest piety, whose heart was replete with the sentiment of
religion. He displays as a legislator a genuine anxiety for the real
interests of the church; but he was equally resolved that his clergy
should have no privileges incompatible with the civil order of the
realm. He found England the most priest‐ridden country in Europe, and
he raised a barrier against church aggrandizement which neither monk
nor pope could overstep.”
These are the testimonies of Sir Edward Creasy, of Dean Hook, and of
Mr. Pearson. Surely, we need desire to say nothing more. We have drawn
the character of Edward from thirteen different writers, of various
times and countries; and to their testimony we have no wish to add a
single word.
* * * * *
It is the breadth and completeness of this character which chiefly
claims our admiration. Men of power,—men of remarkable talents, are met
with again and again in the world’s history; but, unhappily, most of
the greatest are also found among the meanest; while too many of the
good are obliged to ask for our pity or our indulgence. We perceive
Edward’s character to be one of unusual excellence, so soon as we begin
to search for a superior or an equal.
We naturally think, in the first place, of the great Saxon king, who,
four centuries before Edward’s day, did so much to raise England
out of the slough of ignorance and semi‐barbarism in which she was
grovelling. But we can no more institute a comparison between Alfred
and Edward, than we can weigh the respective merits of Alfred and of
Arthur. The hero of the sixth century can only be clearly discerned
through the thick darkness of that gloomy period. Alfred might be
better seen and more truly appreciated; but it was but partially and
doubtfully; as we strive to discern objects through the mists of the
early dawn. He fought battles and gained victories; but of the places
so distinguished, we know next to nothing. He died, and was buried,
we believe, at Winchester, but “his grave no man knoweth.”[183] How
can we, then, rationally institute a comparison between a hero who is
so imperfectly delineated, and a king whose words and actions are as
familiar to us as those of Elizabeth or the third William?
Still, if any one prefers to maintain the belief that Alfred was the
greatest of all kings, and almost of all men, we shall not quarrel
with his opinion. We merely express a doubt, whether our knowledge is
sufficient to warrant such positive language. We think that it is not.
As to the other “heroes” of ancient, or mediæval, or modern days,
they seem to us to fall far below Edward’s standard. An Alexander,
at the head of his irresistible phalanx, can march through Asia, no
enemy being able to stand before him; but his own passions conquer
him in turn. Two friends are put to death on suspicion, and a third
is slain by his own hand in the excitement of drunkenness. Cæsar
infinitely surpassed Alexander. He killed a million of men for his
own aggrandizement. He was great as a soldier, and still greater as
a statesman. But Cæsar knew neither religion nor morals. He believed
this life to be the end of man; and naturally he indulged in sensual
pleasures “without shame or scruple.”[184] We will not do Edward the
injustice to compare him with such men as these.
Coming nearer to his own age, we find a Charlemagne, unquestionably
great in council and in war. But the historian cannot help censuring
“his cruelty and his excessive dissoluteness.”[185] In private life
he was utterly licentious, and in war he could massacre four thousand
men—not in a battle, or in the storming of a city, but like a butcher
in a slaughter‐house.
Another Charles, of great power and great success, arose in Europe
after a lapse of two centuries. But what shall we say of a man who,
after a successful, but an immoral and treacherous life, brought
himself to the grave at the age of fifty‐eight, by excessive gluttony?
Still later, at the opening of the present century, we saw a greater
soldier and a greater statesman than either Charlemagne or Charles V.
In Napoleon we had a loftier genius than either Alexander or Cæsar,—a
conqueror who marched from Rome to Poland, from Madrid to Moscow; and
who, at Dresden, in 1812, “was waited upon by a crowd of obsequious
kings or princes, who accepted every word that fell from his lips,
as if an oracle had spoken.”[186] And yet it has been truly observed
that this autocrat of Europe “had not the merit of common truth
and honesty; he would steal, slander, assassinate, as his interest
dictated. He was intensely selfish; he was perfidious. In short, when
you had penetrated through all this immense power and splendour, you
found that you were dealing with an impostor and a rogue.”[187]
We cannot measure or balance the king of whom we have been writing,
with such characters as these. He is altogether of another class.
Casting our eyes among men of honour,—men of conscience, men worthy of
our respect, in our search for a superior or an equal, we have not yet
succeeded in our quest. We relinquish the task, therefore, here, and
hand it over to our readers.
Footnotes:
[139] Many of our popular histories of England, disregarding this
distinction, fall into a variety of errors. Thus Oliver Goldsmith,
in his larger history, says, that in 1306, the competitor, “being
old and infirm, was obliged to give up the ambition of being the
deliverer of his people to his son.” The fact being that the
competitor had died eleven years before, and his son two years
before the time of which Goldsmith was speaking. In his abridged
history, which for many years was the lesson‐book in all our great
schools, the statement was thus altered:—“Bruce, who had been one
of the competitors for the crown, but was long kept a prisoner
in London, escaping from his guards, resolved to strike for his
country’s freedom.” The fact being, that neither of the Bruces
had ever been “a prisoner in London,” and that the competitor,
here spoken of, had died in 1295—eleven years before the period
at which we have now arrived. Even Sir Walter Scott falls into a
like inaccuracy, saying, “Bruce, the competitor, after Dunbar,
1296, hinted to Edward his hope of being preferred to the kingdom.”
Whereas, “the competitor” had died a year or two previous.
[140] Tytler’s History of Scotland, vol i., p. 204.
[141] Fordun, p. 981. He also sat, as an English baron, in the
parliament of Lincoln. (See p. 220.)
[142] Fordun, p. 778. Wyntoun, vol. ii., p. 498.
[143] “The countess herself, riding up, and with gentle violence
taking hold of his horse’s reins, Bruce suffered himself to be
led away in a kind of triumph to Turnberry.”—Tytler’s Scottish
Worthies, p. 292.
[144] See p. 124. This sum would be equal to £600 in the present day.
[145] “Scala Chronica,” Leland, vol. i., p. 540.
[146] “The vision of a crown could not but haunt him.”—Burton’s
History of Scotland, vol. ii., p. 286.
[147] Tytler’s History, vol. i., pp. 129, 206.
[148] Tytler’s History, vol. i., p. 209.
[149] Halliwell’s Royal Letters, vol. i., p. 22.
[150] Chalmers’ Caledonia, vol. i., p. 671.
[151] Chambers, in his “Lives of Eminent Scotsmen,” says: “John
Comyn was the son of Margery, the sister of Baliol, and, setting
Baliol aside, was the heir of the pretensions of their common
ancestor.”
[152] Tytler, vol. i., p. 213.
[153] Macpherson’s Chronykyl of Andrew Wyntoun, vol. ii., p. 501.
[154] Barbour, i., 590; Wyntoun, viii., 18.
[155] Barbour i., 647.
[156] Lingard, vol. ii., p. 615.
[157] Sharon Turner says, “On every supposition, it was still the
destruction of a competitor by the person who was to be most
benefited by the crime; and from this suspicious atrocity the
memory of Bruce cannot be vindicated.”
[158] Palgrave’s Documents, p. cxxxix.
[159] Pearson’s History, vol. i., p. 351.
[160] “Bruce was so beaten by ill‐fortune, that he was left alone to
take passage to the Isles with two mariners in a boat, who asked
him ‘if he had any tidings of Robert Bruce?’”—_Scala Chronica_,
App. p. 287.
[161] Tytler’s Hist., vol. i., p. 222.
[162] Matthew of Westminster.
[163] Palgrave’s Documents, p. clxxxix.
[164] Tytler, vol. i., p. 235.
[165] See Appendix.
[166] Matthew of Westminster, 1307.
[167] This was evidently the date of the erection of the tomb. The
king had died in July, 1307, and had been buried in Westminster in
October. The tomb was naturally completed in the following year.
[168] Sir Walter Scott’s History of Scotland, vol. i., p. 87. Sir
Walter forgot here that, before six months had passed, Bruce sent
messengers to the young prince to ask if his submission would be
accepted.
[169] Wallace Documents, Maitland Club, Glasgow, 1841, p. 48.
[170] History of Scotland, vol. i., p. 68.
[171] Robert III. died of a broken heart; James I. was murdered;
James II. accidentally killed; James III. murdered; James IV. died
on Flodden‐field; James V. of a broken heart. Then followed Mary,
who died on the scaffold, James’s troubled reign, Charles’s bloody
death, and, finally, the expulsion of the family.
[172] Rossetti’s translation.
[173] Rapin’s History, vol. i., p. 385.
[174] Thus, in the most popular of our school histories, Mrs.
Markham’s, the scholar is told of Edward’s “violent acts,” of his
fatal thirst of conquest, of his “mad ferocity,” of his “injustice
and violence,” of the “infinite misery” he inflicted on “many
thousands” of people.
[175] “The Greatest of the Plantagenets.”
[176] The professor had suggested some apology for Wallace’s
violence and cruelty.
[177] “Proceedings of Oxford Historical Society, Trinity term, 1864.”
[178] Prof. Stubbs’ Select Charters, 1870, p. 35, 51.
[179] Yonge’s History of England, p. 113.
[180] Creasy’s History of England, p. 485.
[181] Historical Essays, by E. A. Freeman, D.C.L., late Fellow of
Trinity College, Oxford, 1871.
[182] During the last thirty years a dozen Histories of England
have been published in London, all of which servilely followed
Hume, describing Edward as “unscrupulous,” “perfidious,” and
“unprincipled.” But in the course of the last seven years, all the
writers whom we have just quoted have re‐examined the subject, and
they all unite in declaring the king to have been honest, just,
truthful, and disinterested.