Chapter V: Appendix: 347 (4)

Four more years elapsed without the slightest move on Edward’s part against Scotland. But in 1296, the twenty‐fourth year of Edward’s reign, the Scotch joined with his enemy, the king of France, and invaded England. And then, and not before, being in his fifty‐seventh year, did the king enter Scotland, a country which, we are now assured, he had been coveting and “plotting against” for a whole quarter of a century. We say, then, once more, that these constant representations of Edward, which we find in a multitude of historians, great and small, exhibiting him as an ambitious man, a conqueror, a “designing man,” constantly “plotting against the safety of his neighbours,” constitute, on the whole, one of the most extraordinary instances of literary injustice and wrong that is to be found in all British history.

Let us look for a moment at the actual results, the real facts, of these eighteen years. Surely a period of this length, extending from the thirty‐third to the fifty‐first year of Edward’s life, might be expected to show his real character, the true bent of his mind. A conqueror, an ambitious man, is not likely to waste the whole prime of his life in peaceful inactivity, and only to exhibit his cupidity and unscrupulousness when grey hairs were beginning to show themselves. The victors of Crécy and of Agincourt followed no such course. What Edward really was, he showed in these eighteen years. The conquest of Wales, the only interruption of an otherwise peaceful course, was, as we have shown, forced upon him. He had no choice in the matter. The Welsh princes would not have peace. But, with this one exception, what was the character of this protracted period—the whole prime of Edward’s life?

It was that of constant, careful, sedulous improvement. No department of the government was exempt from his thoughtful scrutiny. The revenues of the crown were carefully examined, and their economical employment provided for. In place of “seizures” for the king’s use, we now find “purchases.” The household expenses were placed on a proper footing. The king could exhibit royal splendour when public occasions called for it; but the general rule of his expenditure was that of frugality. A modern writer observes, that “his household as king was both well‐regulated and economical. We have a record of his expenses while residing at Langley, Bucks, in Lent, 1290.” This, of course, was not a season of festivity; but we find that “in the first week his expenses were £7 10s. 4½d; in the second, £5 19s. 0½d.; and in the third, £5 12s. 2½d.[35] Now, bearing in mind the habits and usages of that time,[36] when the regulated price of a lamb was _sixpence_, and of a goose, _fourpence_, we shall see at a glance that this expenditure for a king, in retirement during the season of Lent, was both liberal and economical. It contrasts forcibly with the reckless extravagance of his father Henry, and of his still more wasteful son, the second Edward. Henry, after his royal festivities at Bourdeaux and Paris in 1254, returned home burdened with debts, which he himself described as “horrible to think of.” And the younger Edward, when just commencing life, seems to have been accustomed to spend as much _daily_ as we have just seen his father spend _weekly_! We have a record of his household expenses for three days in 1293, when he was staying in a country residence. On Thursday his expenses amounted to £7 4s. 5d., on Friday, to £6 8s. 1d., and on Saturday, to £6 4s.; being at the rate of about £46 per week. The expenditure of his household in that year amounted to £3,846 7s. 6d., which at the present rate of money would be equal to more than £50,000 per annum. That such habits in youth should lead to a reign of discomfort, closing on dishonour, is not to be wondered at.

Edward I., however, though economical, was no lover of money. On fitting occasions his expenditure was royal. His coronation banquet was one of unusual splendour and liberality. His Round Table celebrations must have been very costly. Fond of hunting, his stables must have occasioned a considerable outlay. His presents were magnificent, his charities were very large. The entries under this head, in his “Wardrobe Accounts,” were numerous, and must have reached an aggregate, in each year, of large amount. One of the chronicles of the day makes this brief allusion to his charities:—

“King Edward, turning aside to the northern parts, celebrated Easter at Newcastle, where he distributed great abundance of oblations in the monasteries, and gave large alms to the people; insomuch that many men not poor did not blush to pretend themselves so, being allured by so great a liberality.”[37]

On the first anniversary of his consort’s death, besides great and costly solemnities at Westminster, the Black Friars in London, and at Lincoln, we find mention made of many other places—Haverfordwest, Burgh, Haverleigh, Somerton, Lindhurst, Ledes, and Langley—where the day was observed with especial rites, and the distribution of alms. All this was done at the king’s expense, and sums varying from £19 to £30 were given to each place. But £30 in those days was nearly equal to £500 at the present day.

On the second anniversary, besides many other celebrations, alms were distributed to the prisoners in Newgate, to the hospitals of St. Giles, St. James, St. Thomas, St. Mary, and St. Bartholomew, in London, and also to the seven houses of Friars’ mendicants in the same city.

Edward reformed the coin of the realm. He strove to restore purity to the administration of justice. By many stringent regulations he tried to abolish usury, which had grown to be an enormous evil.

It is in his reign that we first find an annual account of the public revenue and expenditure.[38] So admirably were the finances of the government administered, that in all these eighteen years, 1272-1290, we find only four applications to the people for an “aid”—a vote of taxes for the expenditure of the crown; and each of these is for a declared and special purpose.

In his fourth year, the second after his coronation, he asked and obtained a _fifteenth_, to clear off his remaining liabilities on account of his expedition to the Holy Land—a work deemed, in those days, to be a public duty.

In his fifth year, he asked for a _twelfth_, to provide for the expenses of the anticipated war with Wales.

In his eleventh year, the war in Wales having broken out a second time, he obtained a _thirtieth_ from the laity and a _twentieth_ from the _clergy_.

And in his eighteenth year, having returned from a prolonged visit to Gascony and other parts, where he had incurred many expenses, he asked and obtained a _fifteenth_.

These four small levies are all that Edward required during the first eighteen years of his reign. And the termination, for ever, of the destructive warfare on the borders of Wales, which had so long laid waste several counties of England, was far more than an abundant compensation to his people. Had he never been assailed by others, the rest of his reign might have passed over without any further demands upon his subjects. Had not Philip of France endeavoured to deprive him of Gascony, while the Scotch, in reckless violation of their recent oaths, allied themselves to France and invaded England; there is no reason to suppose that any burdens would have been laid upon the people, or that the earls of Norfolk and Hereford would have found any opportunity for their resistance or their “patriotism.”

But the chief glory of his reign was, that he saw and appreciated that great public necessity—the want of good laws, and of a constitutional legislature for their consideration and enactment. We have already cited, but must here repeat, his first avowal, made as early as in the year 1267, of what he deemed to be the true office, the first duty of a king. Speaking in his father’s name, he said,—

“Our lord the king, providing for the better estate of his realm of England, and for the more speedy administration of justice, as belongeth to the office of a king; the more discreet men of the realm being called together, as well of the higher as of the lower degree; it was provided, agreed, and ordained,” etc.

Here we have, before he had ascended the throne, but at a time when he assuredly governed the vessel of the State, a brief but pithy outline of the constitution of England; and that outline it was the effort, the business of his life to fill up. With a vigorous hand he applied himself to the work of establishing a system of wise laws, and of improving the administration of justice. His sagacious and active mind penetrated and pervaded every department. And hence it is, that, in the judgment of all competent historians, the thirteenth century is the starting‐point of the history of England. A writer of the Elizabethan age[39] repeatedly notices with admiration, “his noble industry,” his “unceasing labours”; and this praise is justified by the recorded facts. In former reigns, foreign contests, and the suppressions of rebellion, or the enjoyment of hunting, filled up the reigns of the Norman kings. But Edward lived for England. In the former reigns, a brief charter had sometimes been extorted from the king; and in Henry’s long reign our Statute‐Book commences, with six ordinances, made in the course of fifty‐six years. But so soon as Edward ascends the throne, legislation of the highest order at once begins. Crowned in 1274, in 1275 we have the “Statute of Westminster,” “a code, rather than an act of parliament.” In 1276, the statutes on _Coroners_ and on _Bigamy_. Occupied with Wales for one year, in 1278 we have the “Statute of Gloucester;” in 1279, the great “Statute of Mortmain.” Once more Wales claimed his attention; but in 1283 was passed “the famous statute” _de Mercatoribus_. In 1284, followed the “Statutes of Wales.” In 1285, the second “Statutes of Westminster;” and subsequently, the “Statute of Winchester.” He was then abroad for three years; but on his return, we have, immediately, the statutes “Quo Warranto,” “Quia Emptores,” and “Westminster III.” Thus it is evident that Edward deemed, most wisely and justly, that the establishment of good and wholesome laws was his primary duty.

A hasty observer might remark that the quantity of this legislation was not large, and that a statute or two in a year might be reckoned a slow rate of production. But the answer to this is obvious. The work of legislation was but newly undertaken, and those who had addressed themselves to it were prudently cautious. Some of these statutes, too, were large and comprehensive measures, well deserving a prolonged and careful consideration. But this brings us to a distinct and separate question—the character and value of Edward’s legislation. And this is the most wonderful feature in the whole case; for the quality of this legislation is probably unparalleled. Who is a higher authority on such matters than Sir Edward Coke?—and he, describing Edward’s laws, says:—

“All the statutes made in the reign of this king may justly be styled _establishments;_ because they are more constant, standing, and durable laws, than have been made ever since. Justly, therefore, may this king be called, our Justinian.”

Fifty years after Sir Edward Coke, lived the great and good Sir Matthew Hale, who, in describing the growth of the common law of England, says of this reign:—

“Never did the laws, in any one age, receive so great and sudden an advancement. Nay, I may safely say, that all the ages since his time have not done so much, in reference to the orderly settling and establishing the distributive justice of this kingdom, as he did in the short compass of his single reign.” He adds: “Upon the whole, it appears, that the very scheme, mould, and model, of the common law, as it was rectified and set in order by this king, so in a great measure it has continued the same, through all succeeding ages to this day. So that the mark or epocha we are to take for the true starting of the law of England, _what it is_, is to be considered, stated, and estimated, from _what this king left it_. Before his time it was, in a great measure, rude and unpolished; while, on the other hand, as it was thus polished and ordered by him, so it has remained hitherto, without any great or considerable alteration.”

It would be easy to enlarge on this subject, but we are limiting ourselves to an outline. Sir William Blackstone thus describes this remarkable period of legislation:—

“Edward established, confirmed, and settled the great charter and the charter of forests.

“He gave a mortal wound to the encroachments of the pope and his clergy, by limiting and establishing the bounds of ecclesiastical jurisdiction; and by obliging the ordinary, to whom the goods of intestates at that time belonged, to discharge the debts of the deceased.

“He defined the limits of the several temporal courts of the highest jurisdiction, the king’s‐bench, common‐pleas, and exchequer, so that they might not interfere with each other’s proper business.

“He settled the boundaries of the inferior courts, in counties, hundred, and manors.

“He secured the property of the subject, by abolishing all arbitrary taxes and talliages levied without consent of parliament.

“He guarded the common justice of the kingdom from abuses, by giving up the royal prerogative of sending mandates to interfere in private causes.

“He settled the forms, solemnities, and effect of fines levied in the court of common‐pleas.

“He first established a repository for the public records of the kingdom.

“He improved upon the laws of king Alfred, by that great and orderly method of watch and ward, established by the statute of Winchester.

“He settled and reformed many abuses incident to tenures, by the statute of _Quia emptores_.

“He instituted a speedier way for the recovery of debts, by granting executions, not only upon goods and chattels, but also upon lands, by writ of elegit; a signal benefit to a trading people.

“He effectually provided for the recovery of advowsons as temporal rights.

“He closed the great gulf in which all the landed property of the kingdom was in danger of being swallowed, by his reiterated statutes of Mortmain.

“I might continue,” adds Sir William, “this catalogue much further; but, upon the whole, we may observe that the very scheme and model of the administration of common justice, between party and party, was entirely settled by this king.”

Legislation, then, and not military aggrandisement, was the work to which Edward gave himself; and to liken him to Justinian does him much less than justice. The Roman emperor lived at the close of a long period, during which Rome had abounded in laws, and in which the laws had grown too complex and voluminous. His merit is, that he collected and arranged them into a code. Edward’s position was wholly different. He was born at a period when England, then rising into the position of a nation, found itself without written laws and without a legislature; and he set himself to work, with clearness of vision and with largeness of heart, to supply both these wants. In the first of these merits he does not stand alone. Other rulers have seen the need of laws, and have set themselves to supply that need. But too often they have wished that the work should be theirs, the power theirs, and the merit theirs also. Now it is Edward’s peculiar glory that, from the very opening of his public life, he seemed to have seen and adopted the great truth which lies at the foundation of all “constitutions,” that “what concerns all should be by all approved,” and that “common perils should be met by remedies prescribed in common.” These words fell from him in 1295, but the sentiment contained in them is discernible in every step of his whole career.

It is this, then, and not any supposed “attempt to subject the whole island to his sway,” which constitutes the chief feature, the principal merit of Edward’s reign. To be a conqueror, although indeed this kind of conquest—the bringing one island under one government—would be the wisest and the best; to be a conqueror would be but an ordinary and very common sort of merit. The organ of “acquisitiveness” is possessed by a great many of the human race. Edward’s true glory lay, not in his desire to _take_, but in his willingness to _give_. When he went forth, “mighty in arms,” it was, in every case, because his foes left him no choice,—because to remain at peace would have been dishonour. But his peaceful conquests, his legislative victories, were entirely his own. Here we see his own mind and will. From his first accession to power, until the latest hour of his reign, two great objects were constantly present to his mind. He saw that the realm required, and ought to have, a parliament, consisting not only of prelates and lords, but of “all the commonalty of the realm, thither summoned;” and next, that a chief function and office of this parliament should be to deliberate upon proposals laid before it, which should become, when assented to, statutes of the realm.

It is the enunciation of these two principles which constitutes the real glory of king Edward’s reign. That enunciation was his own voluntary act, and its sincerity was proved by all the measures of his subsequent career. His life was devoted to the working out of this great theory. His first statute, in its preamble, gives a bold and fearless sketch of a free legislature; and, before he died, he had gathered around him, as elected members of that legislature, the representatives of all the most populous towns of his realm of England.

Justly then does the writer whom we have already cited, a contemporary of Spenser and of Shakespeare, describe this king as one “in whom we see the value of wisdom, kingly powers, and noble industry,” one who “was a fatherly king to his people; employing all his life, care, and labour to benefit and nourish the commonwealth”—one, in fine, “in whom the good government and commonwealth of England had their chief foundation.”[40]

Footnotes:

[33] Sir J. Mackintosh.

[34] Pearson’s Hist. of England, vol. ii., p. 292.

[35] Blaauw on “the Barons’ war,” p. 34.

[36] The “Chronicle of Lanercost” gives us this anecdote of the
manners of that day: “Richard de Clare, earl of Gloucester, paid
a visit to Robert Grosstête, bishop of Lincoln, who received him
with great honour, and desired his seneschal to provide a fitting
dinner. At table the earl was seated at his host’s right hand, and
it was a day when meat was not permitted by the Church. It was
customary to eat choice sea wolves [the dog‐fish, still eaten in
parts of Normandy], and the servant placed a very fine fish before
the bishop, and a smaller one before the earl. The bishop was
angry, and said, ‘Take away this fish, or else bring the earl one
equally fine.’ The servant said that there was no other so large.
‘Then,’ said the bishop, ‘take away this first and give it to the
poor, and bring me one like the earl’s.’”—“Chronicle of Lanercost,”
p. 44.

[37] “Chronicle of Lanercost,” A.D. 1291.

[38] See Appendix.

[39] Castra Regia. Roxburgh Club.

[40] “Castra Regia,” Roxburgh Club.

VI.

SCOTTISH AFFAIRS—THE ARBITRATION—THE WAR.

A.D. 1291-1296.

The year 1290, as we have already observed, was the disastrous one which ended Edward’s peaceful career, and involved him, without any purpose or desire of his own, in troubles and strife for the rest of his days. The death of a young princess, at a distance of five hundred miles from Edward’s dominions, involved the northern part of the island in troubles which he alone had power to quell. His interposition, earnestly and loudly called for, became, apparently, inevitable. But, when once engaged in the attempt, there seemed no option left him in any of the after‐proceedings. Step followed step, by absolute necessity, until the annexation of the Scottish realm became the natural and unavoidable close; and in this way, without having any alternative, he became an object of enmity to almost every Scotchman, and drew down on his memory in after times, the bitter and unjust animadversions of a long series of prejudiced historians.

A controversy had existed between England and Scotland for centuries before Edward was born. Various kings of England had received the homage alike of the princes of Wales and of the kings of Scotland. We have seen that when Edward was to be crowned, his brother‐in‐law, Alexander of Scotland, came to Westminster and paid his homage; while Llewellyn of Wales, not denying his liability, tried to evade that ceremony by various excuses.

But two different meanings were attached in England and Scotland to this fealty due from the Scottish king. The English lawyers and statesmen always maintained that it was due to the king of England _for the realm of Scotland_. The Scots, on the other hand, insisted on another view—that the king of Scotland owed homage for the honour or earldom of Huntingdon, a possession held by him within the realm of England; but that for Scotland itself he owed no fealty, and ought not to come under any obligation. This quarrel, or difference of opinion, had existed for two or three hundred years. It came to the surface at Edward’s coronation, when his brother‐in‐law, the king of Scotland, appeared at Westminster in great state to pay his homage. He came attended by a hundred knights, and, as we have already narrated, “each knight, as he dismounted from his horse, cast the steed loose, and whosoever could catch them, had them to their own behoof.” But still, when the homage was to be paid, the usual question arose. The English lawyers and statesmen demanded an unconditional homage for the realm of Scotland. The Scotch persisted in limiting it to “the lands their king held of king Edward in England.” No quarrel ensued; the question seems to have been postponed, for we find that three years after, Edward writes to the bishop of Wells, that “his beloved brother, the king of Scotland, had agreed to perform an unconditional homage at the ensuing feast of Michaelmas.” Alexander then appeared before the parliament at Westminster, and offered his homage in these words: “I, Alexander, king of Scotland, do acknowledge myself the liegeman of my lord Edward, king of England, against all his enemies.”

This Edward accepted;[41] and it is abundantly evident that, as the two brothers‐in‐law had no intention of quarrelling, the real point in dispute—the allegiance claimed “for the realm of Scotland”—was left undecided—Edward not conceding, Alexander not admitting, the alleged rights of the English crown.

This position of postponement, declining to bring the matter to a quarrel, continued during the whole of Alexander’s life. Edward and he remained in amity; but Edward in this and all other disputed questions, always used the reservation—”saving the rights of my crown;” _i.e._, “whatever properly belongs to the king of England, _that_ I do not concede.”

In 1261 a daughter had been born to Alexander of Scotland in the castle of Windsor, and in due time this daughter was married to Eric, king of Norway. Her brother, the only surviving son of Alexander, was also married, about the same time, to a daughter of the count of Flanders. But the lapse of a few years saw the removal of almost the whole family by death. Margaret, Alexander’s wife and Edward’s sister, died in 1274, her son in 1282 or 1283, and her daughter, the queen of Norway, in the following year. Alexander himself was killed by a fall from his horse in 1286; and thus the only successor to his house remaining was the young princess, his daughter’s child, who was styled “the maiden of Norway.”

When Alexander suffered the loss of both his children in 1283-4, a meeting of the estates of the realm was held at Scone, at which meeting the succession was declared to belong to “the maiden of Norway.” When, two years later, the unexpected calamity of Alexander’s own death occurred, another meeting was held, and recourse was had to Edward, whose niece, the late queen of Norway, had been the young maiden’s mother. He was in Gascony at the time, and he contented himself with counselling the Scotch to choose a regency, and to carry on the government in the young queen’s name. The intelligence does not seem to have hastened his return from the continent, which did not take place until two or three years afterward.[42]

A council or parliament was accordingly held at Scone on the 11th of April, 1286, at which a regency, consisting of six “guardians of the realm,” was appointed. The persons chosen were, _the bishop of St. Andrew’s_, the earl of Fife, the earl of Buchan, the bishop of Glasgow, the lord of Badenoch, and James, the steward of Scotland.

But in the absence of any visible sovereign, it was not surprising that the Bruces, and Baliols, and other families which claimed to be in the line of succession, should draw together, consult, and form confederacies, having in view the contingency which afterwards did actually arise—that the young “maiden of Norway” might die before she could ascend the throne. These rivalries and confederacies increased, and the parties strove with each other, until, at length, as the historian of Scotland confesses, “open war broke out between the adherents of Baliol and Bruce; and, for two years after the death of the king, continued its ravages in the country.”

Such was the state of affairs during the last portion of Edward’s stay on the continent; and assuredly, for this sad predicament of Scotland, he was in no way answerable. But the natural and inevitable consequence was, that so soon as he arrived in England, he was compelled, by appeals directed to him from all sides, to begin to concern himself with the troubles of that kingdom. Sir Francis Palgrave has shown, by a reference to the original documents, that such appeals were addressed to him by the earl of Mar, by Robert Bruce, lord of Annandale, and by a body called “the seven earls of Scotland.” These parties all “appealed to the king of England and his royal crown.” So invoked, the king invited them to send commissioners to meet him at Salisbury in November, 1289, there to treat of “certain matters of import;” and to which meeting the king of Norway would also send an ambassador of his own. The Scotch readily acceded to his proposal, and they sent to this meeting at Salisbury the bishop of St. Andrew’s, the bishop of Glasgow, Robert Bruce, and John Comyn.

The “matters of import” which Edward propounded to this meeting, concerned a plan, the best which human skill could have devised, for restoring and securing the tranquillity of Scotland. The young prince of Wales was now in his sixth year—the maiden of Norway was of nearly the same age. If these two children were betrothed to each other, the kingdom of Scotland would at once be placed under the joint protection of England and Norway. Thus all would be security and order; and, in course of time, on the succession of the young prince to the throne of England, the unity and harmony of the two kingdoms, under one head, would be secured in the best and most unobjectionable manner. Even the Scottish historians, with one consent, admit the wisdom and prudence of this plan, which Hume himself describes as “favourable to the happiness and grandeur of both kingdoms.”

They also concede, that the negociation was conducted with the greatest fairness and liberality on Edward’s part. Appealed to on all sides, he could not question his own position, as, practically, the superior lord. The king of Norway had instructed his ambassadors to treat with the Scottish commissioners “only _in the presence_ of the king of England.” And, referring to a claim which he had upon the Scots for a sum of about 3,000 marks, he requests the king “to issue his commands to the guardians of Scotland” to pay him the money. The young queen, also, while she was the daughter of the king of Norway, was also the daughter of Edward’s niece. In every way, therefore, the interposition of these two kings was the reverse of officiousness or assumption.

Nevertheless, Edward, with his usual liberality of feeling and practical wisdom, allowed the Scottish commissioners to make almost their own terms. He treated with them, says one Scottish writer, “quite on a footing of equality.” “The terms agreed upon,” says another, “were strictly honourable to the weaker party.” And thus was framed and completed, so far as human beings could accomplish it, “a project,” which Hume describes as “so happily formed and so amicably conducted.”

But everything human is uncertain, and this wise and prudent plan was wholly subverted in a few short months by the death of the young queen on her voyage from Norway in the autumn of 1290. “This fatal event,” says Mr. Tytler, “which may justly be called a great national calamity, struck sorrow and despair into the heart of the kingdom.” Obviously, that state of anarchy and civil war which had recently called for the interposition of the two kings, might now be expected to return. The pretensions of the rival candidates so nearly resembled each other, and the difference between them was so slight, that neither could be expected to give way; and a bloody, and perhaps a long‐protracted strife, seemed almost inevitable.

It is abundantly clear that the arbitration of some eminent and powerful personage was the only conceivable way by which the Scottish nation could escape from this fearful peril. And to whom, but to Edward, should they appeal in this emergency? To him they had already gone, more than once or twice, in their recent troubles. Bruce, one of the claimants, had been so far connected with Edward in times past, that had any other referee been named, he would probably have refused to acquiesce. But to an appeal to the king of England no objection seems to have been made in any quarter.

The bishop of St. Andrew’s, whose name has just been given, as the first on the list of the “guardians of the realm,” and the first of the commissioners sent to Salisbury, wrote to Edward on the 7th of October, 1290, “_entreating_ him to approach the border, to give consolation to the people of Scotland, to prevent the effusion of blood, and to enable the faithful men of the realm to preserve their oath, by choosing him for their king, _who by right ought to be so_.[43]” For so calling upon Edward, the bishop is severely handled by many Scottish historians. But surely, with a civil war impending, the bishop deserves little blame; especially when we see that the prince to whom he thus applied was afterwards accepted as the arbitrator by all the competitors, and by the assembled nobles of Scotland.

On the fact, that Edward was called upon by the chief men in Scotland at this juncture, there is no dispute, even among the Scottish historians themselves. Dr. Henry says, “The regents, the states, and even the competitors, agreed to refer this great controversy to the king of England;” and “the bishop of St. Andrew’s was sent into England to inform Edward of this reference, and to entreat him to take upon him the office.”[44] And Mr. Tytler adds, that “there is also reason to suspect, from documents recently discovered, that Bruce and his adherents had not only claimed his (Edward’s) protection at this moment, but secretly offered to acknowledge his right of superiority.”[45]

Thus invoked by the leading men in Scotland, who wrote to him—“We shall be involved in blood, unless the Most High provide a remedy by your interposition”—Edward, so soon as he had recovered from the depression occasioned by the loss of his queen, wrote to the chief men in that country, desiring them to meet him at Norham, on the English side of the Tweed, on the 10th of May, 1291. Hume adds that the king, “carrying with him _a great army_, advanced to the frontiers.” But this statement is shown by the existing records to be utterly untrue. Edward, knowing that he was about to meet all the nobles and chiefs of Scotland, who, in the existing state of things, would assuredly come armed and well attended, issued writs to about fifty‐eight of his military tenants in the northern counties, desiring them to meet him at Norham _in the beginning of June_. This was obviously a measure of precaution. He went to the place of meeting with the Scottish chiefs, attended by his ordinary retinue. But, foreseeing that some troubles might arise, and that it would be most inexpedient that the umpire or superior lord should be powerless in the presence of the Scottish barons, he took measures to have in attendance, in about _three weeks after_ the commencement of the proceedings, a few thousand men, being merely such a force as two or three counties could easily raise. Hume again speaks of Edward’s “powerful army,” and represents the Scottish barons as having been “betrayed into a situation, in which it was impossible for them to make any defence.” But, of any “powerful army” there is not the slightest trace in history; and if Hume had consulted Rymer, he would have seen, that among the fifty‐eight military tenants who were summoned to meet in June, there appeared the names of John Baliol, Alexander Baliol, John Comyn, and Robert Bruce, all of whom held lands of Edward, as English barons. Thus the Scottish leaders, so far from any “betrayal,” were fully apprised several weeks before of Edward’s plans, and were quite at liberty, if they thought fit, to adopt measures for resistance.[46]

We reach now, then, the 10th of May, 1291. The military retainers whom the king had summoned to meet in June were scarcely yet assembling at their homes. Edward stood, surrounded by his nobles and lawyers, without any other than his usual retinue. He began, therefore, without any thought of force, by proceeding to explain in what capacity he came among them.

Scotchmen now often strive to assume that he had been invited,—had been selected, merely as an umpire, to decide upon a single point, by agreement of all parties. In such arbitrations, however, we generally hear of some document, some contract or treaty; as when Louis of France arbitrated between Henry and his barons in 1264. But of such an agreement or contract there is no trace in the present instance. The lords and great men of Scotland had begged his interposition, and they now simply “appeared,”—as men are usually wont to appear when any court sits in which they have a question depending.

Edward, however, was pre‐eminently a man of order and of respect for law. He therefore began by leaving no doubt as to this part of the case. He at once told them, without the least reserve or delay, by the mouth of Roger Brabazon, his chief justiciary, “that the disturbances which had arisen, in consequence of the late king’s death, were grievous to him, and that, in consequence thereof, and for the restoration of peace, he had travelled a great distance, in order, as lord paramount, to do justice to all.” And first, he asked them, in the most distinct manner, whether they heartily recognized him as lord paramount of the kingdom of Scotland?

This was, unquestionably, the most frank and open way of proceeding, and it was also rendered necessary by the position of the question. It would have been manifestly absurd for the king to have undertaken the decision of the controversy, without first having it distinctly settled and understood in what capacity or character he was acting.

Edward here advanced no new pretensions. The English claim for centuries had been the same—a claim always advanced when England had a powerful sovereign, though often carelessly abandoned when she had a weak or worthless one. Thus, in 1189, the two kingdoms came into violent collision, and, after a great defeat, William the Lion of Scotland consented to make peace on the following terms:—

“William was to become the liegeman of his lord the king Henry, for Scotland, Galloway, and all his other lands, and to perform fealty to his liege lord in the same way as other vassals. His brother, his barons, his clergy, and all his other vassals, were to become the liegemen of the English crown, acknowledging that they held their lands of the English king, and swearing to support him, their liege lord, against the king of Scotland, if the latter ever failed in his fidelity.”[47]

And yet, not many years after, Richard I. of England, caring much more for Palestine than for Scotland, easily relinquished this fealty. Thus was it always. England, having many records of Scottish homage, always claimed it when she was strong, but easily relinquished it when she was weak, or had some other quarrel on her hands.

Was it, then, noble or generous in Edward to seize this opportunity of Scotland’s greatest weakness to assert this obnoxious claim? This is a question which may deserve a moment’s consideration.

In affairs of state, questions will sometimes arise which require to be handled with reference not to feelings or sentiments, but to the general utility. Spain might say to England now, “Is it kind or generous in you to retain possession of a corner of Spain, merely because the fortune of war gave it to you a century ago?” But before England evacuated Gibraltar, her sovereign and government would feel bound to consider the matter, not in the light of sentiment, but with a view to the general good of the English realm and people. And so with Edward in that day. He had been called to the banks of the Tweed in May, 1291, not by any occasion or desire of his own, but by the urgent need of Scotland. Placed in that position, he must act, he felt, with a constant eye to England’s good. Not aggressively, but firmly maintaining that same position which, nearly twenty years before, like former English kings, he had asserted to be England’s right.

The superiority which he claimed, was no vain or ostentatious pre‐eminence. It was a thing of vast importance to England; while to Scotland itself, though resisted, it was a positive good. The object sought was, that this island of Britain should be at peace with itself—should be preserved from intestine dissensions. If the king of England was really the lord paramount, then the king of Scotland, paying fealty to him, was bound to be always on his side, and thus war between the two was precluded. But if, as the Scots were fond of maintaining, the two kingdoms were wholly independent of each other, then the smaller might, whenever it pleased, make war upon the larger. And hence it was always found, that whenever France quarrelled with England, she sent to Scotland, and persuaded the Scottish king to take part in the contention. And thus this island of Britain, instead of being, as at present, united and strong, was frequently divided against itself, the northern part attacking the south, and inflicting heavy injuries upon it. It was this state of disunion which Edward tried to terminate, as he had previously tried in Wales. To both he said: “Pay to me that homage which you owe; vow to be my true man against all enemies. Pay this vow and keep it; so will this island know no more internal contention.” Had Llewellyn of Wales and Baliol of Scotland, making this vow, “kept their covenant,” neither of them would ever have been disturbed in his seat by the covenant‐keeping king of England.

Edward met the assembled lords of Scotland, then, and began by plainly avowing the position in which he deemed himself to stand. He had invented no new claim; he asserted no right, now, which he had not asserted many years before. To justify his position he had desired his law‐officers to gather from the records of the kingdom, proofs that his claim was neither new nor destitute of foundation. A collection of these proofs was now presented to the Scottish lords, going back to the days of Edward the Elder, the son of Alfred. Many of the instances alleged were merely incidental:—that England’s leave was asked before Scotland did this or that. But some more positive testimonies were on record.

Going back as far as to the times of Athelstan, A.D. 926, Roger de Hoveden, and William of Malmesbury, and Henry of Huntingdon, describe the king’s victory over Constantine, king of the Scots, and how Constantine submitted and swore fealty to him. In Edred’s reign, say William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon, the Scots were again defeated, and again made to take the oath.

Under Edward the Confessor, say Hoveden and Malmesbury, Siward of Northumberland defeated Macbeth, king of Scotland, and gave the crown to Malcolm, as king Edward had commanded. In 1091, say Hoveden and Huntingdon, William Rufus marched against the Scots; and Malcolm, being afraid, made peace, “paying homage to him as he had done to his father.” And in 1097, say the same writers, William sent Edgar into Scotland, where he defeated an usurper in a great battle, and made the son of Malcolm king.

Of the treaty of 1189, between William the Lion and Henry II., we have already spoken. Still, however, amidst all these proofs, it should never be forgotten, that whenever England was weak or perplexed, Scotland had always been ready to throw off the yoke, and to declare that she was, and always had been, entirely independent.

Edward had now been called, by the general voice of Scotland, to come forward and decide an important question, and so to save the realm from a civil war. Was it to be expected that in doing this he could forget his own position, or the claim which England had asserted for the last three or four hundred years? Would it have been right or commendable if he had done so, seeing that upon the decision of this claim depended the unity and harmony, the internal peace and strength, of the two sister kingdoms in all succeeding ages?

Was it to be expected, either, that he could overlook the circumstances attending the present appeal? What meant the application made by the Scotch to him while in Gascony, or the repeated appeals to him since by the bishop of St. Andrew’s, by the seven earls of Scotland, by Robert Bruce, by the earl of Mar, and others, all “_appealing_ to the king of England and his royal crown,” if Scotland was as independent of England as it was of France or of Norway? Sir Francis Palgrave has well observed, that “We have now full evidence that the interposition of Edward was neither wanton nor aggressive, and that it little deserved the terms by which it has been described. Kings have hard measure meted out to them by historians. Let the English monarch be tried by the test and example of an English gentleman: If, on the death of the copyhold tenant, all the persons claiming the right of admission unite in applying to the lord of the manor for a new grant, will it be easy for him to doubt that he is the lawful owner of the domain?”[48]

Such, then, was the first question opened at Norham. It was, clearly, a necessary one; for how could Edward commence his duties as judge, or arbiter, until he knew whether, and upon what grounds, he was admitted by the contending parties to occupy that position. Hence he said to them, at the very outset, “I come here as lord paramount; do you receive me in that character?”

Their first reply seems to have been, that they were not prepared to give an answer to such a question; and that they wished for time to deliberate. The king expressed surprise that they should be unprepared to give an answer, _since they were not ignorant of his intentions_. We gather from this expression, that the king had made no secret of his views or purposes; and that there was nothing sudden or unexpected in the demand which he made. Still, as they desired time to deliberate, he adjourned the meeting to the next day; and on their then appearing still undecided, he gave them a further delay of three weeks.[49]

The lords of Scotland, therefore, had the fullest liberty, the most entire freedom to choose their course. Edward, as he told them, had made no secret of his intentions. Called by them to the meeting at Norham, he had never purposed to go there in any doubtful character. The position he assumed was identically the same which he had assumed throughout his whole reign. He was lord paramount of Britain, just as Philip was lord paramount of France. He found in divers ancient records, English kings acting in this character in Scotland, even as far back as the time of Alfred’s sons. More recently, he found William of Scotland, just one hundred and three years before, consenting to “become the liegeman” of his great grandfather, Henry II., “for Scotland, Galloway, and all his other lands.” His own principle through life had been to maintain the just claims of the crown of England, and “while he was careful in performing his obligations, to be similarly jealous in exacting his rights.”[50] He therefore frankly told them, at the very outset, in what character he came there, and he claimed of them an equally frank recognition of his place and dignity. They hesitated, they asked for time. He gave it as soon as asked. He dismissed them, desiring them to return in three weeks with their decision. Had they chosen to resist his claim, this delay gave them ample time to assemble their forces, and to return to Norham in June at the head of an army. The charges, therefore, which Hume and Mackintosh and others have brought, of a “circumvention,” or a “surprise,” are wholly unfounded, and more than usually unjust. Edward’s whole conduct in this part of the transaction was frank, deliberate, and manly.

The lords of Scotland, however, were in no mood for fighting. Several of the chief of them indulged hopes of the crown, and expected a favourable sentence at the hands of Edward. To unite in an indignant rejection of the English claim was, therefore, a thing out of the question. With one consent they submitted to the necessity which seemed inevitable. The three weeks elapsed; no measures for resistance had been taken; they returned to Norham in the beginning of June, unprepared to withstand, and consequently prepared to admit, the English claim.

A second time assembled in full conclave, the king’s able minister, chancellor Burnel, opened the business. He reminded them that the king his master had conceded to them a sufficient time to prepare any objections they might have to offer to his claim of superiority; and, as they had produced none, he would now proceed in the capacity of lord paramount, to do justice in the matter.

“The chancellor then turned to Robert Bruce, and demanded whether he was content to acknowledge Edward as lord paramount of Scotland, and willing to receive judgment from him in that character; upon which this baron expressly answered, that he recognized him as such, and would abide by his decision. The same question was then put to the other competitors, all of whom returned the same answer. Sir Thomas Randolph then stood up, and declared that John Baliol, lord of Galloway, had mistaken the day, but would appear on the morrow, which he did, and then solemnly acknowledged the superiority of the English king.”[51]

The king himself then addressed the assembly. He declared his intention to pronounce a speedy decision in the controversy; and, meanwhile, to maintain the laws and re‐establish the tranquillity of the country. The several claimants then affixed their signatures to two important instruments—the first declaring their consent to receive judgment from the king as lord paramount; and the second, delivering the land and the castles of Scotland into Edward’s hands, he engaging to re‐deliver them to the person who should appear to be justly entitled. Then a list of eighty commissioners was formed by the candidates themselves, to which list the king was to add twenty‐four names; and these commissioners were to receive the claims of the several candidates, and to report them to the king.

On the 11th of June, the regents of Scotland delivered the kingdom, and the governors of the castles gave up those fortresses, into the hands of king Edward, who immediately re‐delivered them to the regents, promising to give full possession to the rightful claimant, so soon as the question as to the succession should be decided. The guardians of the kingdom then swore fealty to Edward, as lord paramount, and were followed in the same oath by Robert Bruce, by his son, by John Baliol, and by the earls of Buchan, Mar, Athol, Angus, Lennox, Menteith, and many other barons and knights. The peace of king Edward, as lord paramount, was publicly proclaimed, and the assembly was adjourned until the 2nd of August, then to meet at the town of Berwick‐upon‐Tweed. On that day it again met; and the claimants were invited to present their petitions. These, which were twelve in number, were read; and the king recommended them to the attention of the commissioners; enjoining them to give in their report to him, at Berwick, on the 2nd of June, in the next year. Edward was at that time called to England by the illness of his mother, who was then on her death‐bed. He had also the disagreeable task before him of suppressing a violent feud which had broken out between the earls of Hereford and Gloucester. He probably also anticipated that the investigation of the claims of so many as twelve candidates, by a large body of commissioners, would necessarily occupy much time. On these grounds he postponed the decision until the following summer, and soon took his departure for England.[52]

In June, 1292, the commissioners assembled, the king and all the claimants being present. There can be no doubt that it began to be generally understood by this time that the question must lie between Robert Bruce and John Baliol, both of whom were descended from daughters of David, earl of Huntingdon, who was brother of William the Lion, king of Scotland. The table of affinity is given below.[53]

Some difficulties arising, the king desired further information to be obtained, and adjourned the further hearing until the 15th of October. On that day all parties again met, and the king proposed to the commissioners two questions: first, by what laws or customs the judgment ought to be regulated? and, secondly, was the kingdom of Scotland to be regarded as a common fief, and the succession to be regulated by the same principles which were applicable to earldoms and baronies? The commissioners replied, that the laws and usages of the two kingdoms must rule the question; but if none existed to regulate the case, the king must make a new law for a new emergency; and that the succession must be decided in the same manner as the succession to earldoms, baronies, and other indivisible inheritances.

The claimants were then called upon, and each endeavoured to maintain his own right. The language used by John Baliol, who ultimately obtained the kingdom, is worthy of notice. He urged “that the claimants were in the court of the lord paramount, of whose ancestors, from time immemorial, the realm of Scotland was held by homage; and that the king of England must give judgment in this case as in the case of other tenements held of the crown, looking to the laws and established usages of his kingdom”[54]

The king then required of his great council a final answer to this question: “By the laws and customs of both kingdoms, ought the issue of an elder sister, but more remote by one degree, to exclude the issue of a younger sister, although one degree nearer?” The council replied, that the issue of the elder sister must be preferred. Another adjournment then took place, until the 6th of November. On that day the king declared his judgment, that Bruce’s right must yield to the superior claim of Baliol. Whereupon a new question was raised: John de Hastings, descended from the _third_ daughter of David earl of Huntingdon, alleged that the kingdom of Scotland was partible, and ought to be divided among the descendants of the three daughters. Bruce followed, maintaining the same view; and the king referred the question to his council—“Is the kingdom of Scotland divisible; or are its escheats and its revenues divisible?” The council replied, that neither could be divided. One more adjournment then took place, to the 17th of November, when all parties were commanded again to meet in the castle of Berwick‐on‐Tweed.