But the history of those times furnishes
many instances of the like want of design in the most
momentous affairs, and shows that it is in vail to
look for political causes for the actions of men, who
were most commonly directed by a brute caprice,
and were for the greater part destitute of any fixed
principles of obedience or resistance.
many instances of the like want of design in the most
momentous affairs, and shows that it is in vail to
look for political causes for the actions of men, who
were most commonly directed by a brute caprice,
and were for the greater part destitute of any fixed
principles of obedience or resistance.
Edmund Burke
?
?
?
,ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
431
exhausted. It is a melancholy reflection, that the
spirit of great designs can seldom be inspired, but
where the reason of mankind is so uncultivated that
they can be turned to little advantage.
With this war ended the fortune of Richard, who
found the Saracens less dangerous than his Christian
allies. It is not well known what motive induced
him to land at Aquileia, at the bottom of the Gulf of
Venice, in order to take his route by Germany; but
he pursued his journey through the territories of the
Duke of'Austria, whom he had personally affronted
at the siege of Acre. And now, neither keeping himself'out of the power of that prince, nor rousing his
generosity by. seeming to confide in it, he attempted
to get through his dominions in disguise. Sovereigns
do not easily assume the private character; their
pride seldom suffers their disguise to be complete:
besides, Richard had made himself but too well
known. The Duke, transported with the opportunity of base revenge, discovered him, seized him,
and threw him into prison; from whence he was
only released to be thrown into another. The Emperor claimed him, and, without regarding A. D. 1193.
in this unfortunate captive the common dignity of sovereigns, or his great actions in the common
cause of Europe, treated him with yet greater cruelty.
To give a color of justice to his violence, he proposed
to accuse Richard at the Diet of the Empire upon
certain articles relative to his conduct in the Holy
Land.
The. news of the king's captivity caused the greatest consternation in all his good subjects; but it revived the hopes and machinations of Prince John, who bound himself by closer ties than ever to the
? ? ? ? 432 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
King of France, seized upon some strongholds in
England, and, industriously spreading a report of his
brother's death, publicly laid claim to the crown. as
lawful successor. All his endeavors, however, served
only to excite the indignation of the people, and to
attach them the more firmly to: their unfortunate
prince. Eleanor, the queen dowager, as good a mother as she had been a bad wife, acted with the utmost
vigor and prudence to retain them in their duty, and
omitted no means to procure the liberty of her son.
The nation seconded her with a zeal, in their circumstances,i uncommon. No tyrant ever imposed so severe a tax upon his people as the affection of the people of England, already exhausted, levied upon
themselves. The most favored religious orders were
charged on this occasion. The Church plate was
sold. The ornaments of the most holy relics were
not spared. And, indeed, nothing serves more to
demonstrate the poverty of the kingdom, reduced by
internal dissensions and remote wars, at that time,
than: the extreme difficulty of collecting the king's
ransom, which amounted to no more than one hundred thousand marks of silver, Cologne weight. For
raising this sum, the first taxation, the most heavy
and general that was ever known in England, proved
altogether insufficient. Another taxation was set on
foot. It was levied with the same rigor as the former',
and still fell short. Ambassadors were sent into Germany with all that could be raised, and with hostages
for the payment of whatever remained. The king
met these ambassadors as he was carried in chains to
plead his cause before the Diet of the Empire. The
ambassadors burst into tears at this affecting sight,
lrnd wept aloud; but Richard, though touched no
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 433
less with the affectionate loyalty of his subjects than
with his own fallen condition, preserved his dignity
entire in his misfortunes, and with a cheerful air inquired of the state of his dominions, the behavior of. the King of Scotland, and the fidelity of his brother,
the Count John. At the Diet, no longer protected
by the character of a sovereign, he was supported by
his personal abilities. He had a ready wit and great
natural eloquence; and his high reputation and the
weight of his cause pleading for him more strongly,
the Diet at last interested itself in his favor, and prevailed on the Emperor to accept an excessive ransom for dismissing a prisoner whom he detained without
the least color of justice. Philip moved heaven and!
earth to prevent his enlargement: he negotiated, he
promised, he flattered, he threatened, he outbid his
extravagant ransom. The Emperor, in his own nature more inclined to the bribe, which tempted him
to be base, hesitated a long time between these offers.
But as the payment of the ransom was more certain
than Philip's promises, and as the instances of the
Diet, and the menaces of the Pope, who protected
Richard, as a prince serving under the Cross, were of
more immediate consequence than his threats, Richard was at length released; and though it is said the Emperor endeavored to seize him again, to extort an
other ransom, he escaped safely into England. 'Richard, on his coming to England, found
A. D. 1194.
all things in the utmost confusion; but before he'attempted to apply a remedy to so obstinate
a disease, in order to wipe off any degrading ideas
which might have arisen from his imprisonment, he
caused himself to be new crowned. Then holding:
his Court of Great Council at Southampton, he made:
VOL. VII. 28
? ? ? ? 434 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
-some useful regulations in the distribution of justice.
He called some great offenders to a strict account.
Count John deserved no favor, and he lay entirely
at the king's mercy, who, by an unparalleled generosity, pardoned him his multiplied offences, only depriving him of the power of which he had made so bad a use. Generosity did not oblige him to forget
the hostilities of the King of France. But to prosecute the war money was wanting, which new taxes
and new devices supplied with difficulty and with
dishonor. All the mean oppressions of a necessitous
government were exercised on this occasion. All the
grants which were made on the king's departure to
the Holy Land were revoked, on the weak pretence
that the purchasers had sufficient recompense whilst
they held them. Necessity seemed to justify this, as
well as many other measures that were equally violent. The whole revenue of the crown had been dissipated; means to support its dignity must be found; and these means were the least unpopular, as most
men saw with pleasure the wants of government fall
upon those who had started into a sudden greatness
by taking advantage of those wants.
Richard renewed the war with Philip, which continued, though frequently interrupted by truces, for
about five years. In this war Richard signalized
himself by that irresistible courage which on all
occasions gave him a superiority over the King of
France. But his revenues were exhausted; a great
scarcity reigned both in France and England; and
the irregular manner of carrying oil war in those
days prevented a clear decision in favor of either
party. Richard had still ail eye on the Holy Land,
which he considered as the only province worthy of
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 435
his arms; and this continually diverted his thoughts
from the steady prosecution of the war in France.
The Crusade, like a superior orb, moved along with
all the particular systems of politics of that time,
and suspended, accelerated, or put back all operations on motives foreign to the things themselves.
In this war it must be remarked that Richard made
a considerable use of the mercenaries who had been
so serviceable to Henry the Second; and the King
of France, perceiving how much his father, Louis,
had suffered by a want of that advantage, kept on
foot a standing army in constant pay, which none
of his predecessors had done before him, and which
afterwards for a long time very unaccountably -fell
into disuse in both kingdoms.
Whilst this war was carried on by intervals and
starts, it came to the ears of Richard that a nobleman of Limoges had found on his lands a considerable hidden treasure. The king, necessitous and rapacious to the last degree, and stimulated by the
exaggeration and marvellous circumstances which
always attend the report of such discoveries, immediately sent to demand the treasure, under pretence
of the rights of seigniory. The Limosin, either because he had really discovered nothing or that he
was unwilling to part with so valuable an acquisition, refused to comply with the king's demand, and
fortified his castle. Enraged at the disappointment,
Richard relinquished the important affairs in which
he was engaged, and laid siege to this castle with all
the eagerness of a man who has his heart set upon a
trifle. In this siege he received a wound from -an
arrow, and it proved mortal; but in the last, as in all
the other acts of his life, something truly noble shone
? ? ? ? 436 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
out amidst the rash and irregular motions of his mind.
The castle was taken before he died. The man from
whom Richard had received the wound was brought
before him. Being asked why he levelled his arrow
at the king, he answered, with an undaunted countenance, "that the king with his own hand had slain his two brothers; that he thanked God who gave him
an opportunity to revenge their deaths even with the
certainty of his own. " Richard, more touched with
the magnanimity of the man than offended at the injury he had received or the boldness of the answer, ordered that his life should be spared. He appointed
his brother John to the succession; and with these. . 1199. acts ended a life and reign distinguished by
a great variety of fortunes in different parts
of the world, and crowned with great military glory,
but without any accession of power to himself, or
prosperity to his people, whom he entirely neglected,
and reduced, by his imprudence and misfortunes, to
no small indigence and distress.
In many respects, a striking parallel presents itself between this ancient King of England and
Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden. They were both
inordinately desirous of war, and rather generals
than kings. Both were rather fond of glory than
ambitious of empire. Both of them made and deposed sovereigns. They both carried on their wars
at a distance from home. They were both made
prisoners by a friend and ally. They were both reduced by an adversary inferior in war, but above
them in the arts of rule. After spending their lives
in remote adventures, each perished at last near home
in enterprises not suited to the splendor of their former exploits. Both died childless. And both, by
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 437
the neglect of their affairs and the severity of their
government, gave their subjects provocation and encouragement to revive their freedom. - In all these respects the two characters were alike; but Richard
fell as mrch short of the Swedish hero in temperance, chastity, and equality of mind as he exceeded him in wit and eloquence. Some of his sayings are
the most spirited that we find in that time; and some
of his verses remain, which in a barbarous age might
have passed f6r poetry.
CHAPTER VIII.
REIGN OF JOHN.
WE are now arrived at one of the most
A. D. 1199.
memorable periods in the English story,
whether we consider the astonishing revolutions
which were then wrought, the calamities in which
both the prince and people were involved, or the
happy consequences which, arising from the midst
of those calamities, have constituted the glory and
prosperity of England for so- many years. We shall
see a throne founded in arms, and augmented by
the successive policy of five able princes, at once
shaken to its foundations: first made tributary by
the arts of a foreign power; then limited, and almost overturned, by the violence of its subjects.
We shall see a king, to reduce his people to obedience, draw into his territories a tumultuary foreign army, and destroy his country instead of establishing
his government. We shall behold the people, grown
desperate, call in another foreign army, with a foreign
? ? ? ? 438 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
prince at its head, and throw away that liberty which
they had sacrificed everything to preserve. We shall
see the arms of this prince successful against an established king in the vigor of his years, ebbing in the
full tide of their prosperity, and yielding to an infant: after this, peace and order and liberty restored,
the foreign force and foreign title purged off, and all
things settled as happily as beyond all hope.
Richard dying without lawful issue, the succession
to his dominions again became dubious. They consisted of various territories, governed by various rules
of descent, and all of them uncertain. There were
two competitors: the first was Prince John, youngest
son of Henry the Second; the other was Arthur, son
of Constance of Bretagne, by Geoffrey, the third son
of that monarch. If the right of consanguinity were
only considered, the title of John to the whole succession had been indubitable. If the right df representation had then prevailed, which now universally prevails, Arthur, as standing in the place of his father, Geoffrey, had a solid claim. About Brittany there
was no dispute. Anjou, Poitou, Touraine, and Guienne declared in favor of Arthur, on the principle of
representation. Normandy was entirely for John. In
England the point of law had never been entirely settled, but it seemed rather inclined to the side of con
sanguinity. Therefore in England, where this point
was dubious at best, the claim of Arthur, an infant
and a stranger, had little force against the pretensions
of John, declared heir by the will of the late king,
supported by his armies, possessed of his treasures,
and at the head of a powerful party. He secured in
his interests Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, and
Glanville, the chief justiciary, and by them the body
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 439
of the ecclesiastics and the law. It is remarkable,
also, that he paid court to the cities and boroughs,
which is the first instance of that policy: but several
of these communities now happily began to emerge
from their slavery, and, taking advantage of the necessities and confusion of the late reign, increased in
wealth and consequence, and had then first attained
a free and regular form of administration. The
towns new to power declared heartily in favor of a
prince who was willing to allow that their declaration could confer a right. The nobility, who saw
themselves beset by the Church, the law, and the
burghers, had taken no measures, nor even a resolution, and therefore had nothing left but to concur in acknowledging the title of John, whom they
knew and hated. But though they were not able to
exclude him from the succession, they had strength
enough to oblige him to a solemn promise of restoring those liberties and franchises which they had always claimed without having ever enjoyed or even
perfectly understood. The clergy also took advantage of the badness of his title to establish one altogether as ill founded. Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the speech which he delivered at the king's coronation, publicly affirmed that the crown
of England was of right elective. He drew his examples in support of this doctrine, not from the histories of the ancient Saxon kings, although a species
of election within a certain family had then frequently prevailed, but from the history of the first kings of
the Jews: without doubt in order to revive those pretensions which the clergy first set up in the election
of Stephen, and which they had since been obliged
to conceal, but had not entirely forgotten.
? ? ? ? 440 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
John accepted a sovereignty weakened in the very
act by which he acquired it; but he submitted t(o the
times. He came to the throne at the age of thirtytwo. He had entered early into business, and had
been often involved in difficult and arduous enterprises, iii which he experienced a variety of men and
fortunes. His father, whilst he was very young, had
sent him into Ireland, which kingdom was destined
for his portion, inl order to habituate that people to
their future sovereign, and to give the young prince
an opportunity of conciliating the favor of his new
subjects. But he gave on this occasion no good
omens of capacity for government. Full of the insolent levity of a young man of high rank without education, and surrounded with others equally unpractised, he insulted the Irish chiefs, and, ridiculing their uncouth garb and manners, he raised such a disaffection to the English government, and so much opposition to it, as all the wisdom of his father's best officers
and counsellors was hardly able to overcome. In the
decline of his father's life he joined in the rebellion
of his brothers, with so much more guilt as with more
ingratitude and hypocrisy. During the reign of Richard he was the perpetual author of seditions and tumults; and yet was pardoned, and even favored by
that prince to his death, when he very unaccountably appointed him heir to all his dominions.
It was of the utmost moment to John, who had no
solid title, to conciliate the favor of all the world.
Yet one of his first steps, whilst his power still remained dubious and unsettled, was, on pretence of
consanguinity, to divorce his wife Avisa, with whom
he had lived many years, and to marry Isabella of
Angouleme, a woman of extraordinary beauty, but
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 441
who had been betrothed to Hugh, Count of Marche:
thus disgusting at once the powerful friends of his
divorced wife, and those of the Earl of Marche, whom
lie had so sensibly wronged.
The King of France, Philip Augustus, saw with
pleasure these proceedings of John, as he had before
rejoiced at the dispute about the succession. He had
been always employed, and sometimes with success,
to reducde the English power through the reigns of
one very able and one very warlike prince. He had
greater advantages in this conjuncture, and a prince
of quite another character now to contend with. He
was therefore not long without choosing his part;
and whilst he secretly encouraged the Count of
Marche, already stimulated by his private wrongs, he
openly supported the claim of Arthur to the Duchies
of Anjou and Touraine. It was the character of this
prince readily to lay aside and as readily to reassume
his enterprises, as his affairs demanded. He saw
that he had declared himself too rashly, and that he
was in danger of being assaulted upon every side.
He saw it was necessary to break an alliance, which
the nice circumstances and timid character of John
would enable him to do. In fact, John was at this
time united in a close alliance with the Emperor and
the Earl of Flanders; and these princes were engaged in a war with France. He had then a most favorable opportunity to establish all his claims, and
at the same time to put the King of France out of a
condition to question them ever after. But
A. D. 1200.
he suffered himself to be overreached by
the artifices of Philip: he consented to a treaty of
peace, by which he received an empty acknowledgment of his right to the disputed territories, and in
? ? ? ? 442 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
return for which acknowledgment he renounced his
alliance with the Emperor. By this act he at once
strengthened his enemy, gave up his ally, and lowered his, character with his subjects and with all the
world. . D1201 This treaty was hardly signed, when the
ill consequences of his conduct became evi-. dent. The Earl of Marche and Arthur immediately renewed their claims and hostilities under the protection of the King of France, who made a strong diversioni by invading Normandy. At the commencement of these motions, John, by virtue of a prerogative hitherto undisputed, summoned his English barons to attend him into France; but instead of a compliance with his orders, he was surprised with a
solemn demand of their ancient liberties. It is astonishing that the barons should at that time have
ventured on a resolution of such dangerous importance, as they had provided no sort of means to support them.
But the history of those times furnishes
many instances of the like want of design in the most
momentous affairs, and shows that it is in vail to
look for political causes for the actions of men, who
were most commonly directed by a brute caprice,
and were for the greater part destitute of any fixed
principles of obedience or resistance. The king, sensible of the weakness of his barons, fell upon some
of their castles with such timely vigor, and treated
those whom he had reduced with so much severity,
that the rest immediately and abjectly submitted.
He levied a severe tax upon their fiefs; and thinking
himself more strengthened by this treasure'than the
forced service of his barons, he excused the personal
attendance of most of them, and, passing into Nor
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 44L3
mandy, he raised an army there. He found
A. D. 1202.
that his enemies had united their forces,
and invested the castle of Mirebeau, a place of importance, in which his mother,, from whom he derived his right to Guienne, was besieged. He flew to the
relief of this place with the spirit of a greater character, and the success was answerable. The Breton and Poitevin army was defeated, his mother was
freed, and the young Duke of Brittany and his sister were made prisoners. The latter he sent into England, to be confined in the castle of Bristol; the
former he carried with him to Rouen. The good fortune of John now seemed to be at its highest point; but it was exalted on a precipice; and this great victory proved the occasion of all the evils which afflicted his life.
John was not of a character to resist the temptation of having the life of his rival in his hands. All historians are as fully agreed that he murdered his
nephew as they differ in the means by which he
accomplished that crime. But the report was soon
spread abroad, variously heightened in the circumstances by the obscurity of the fact, which left all men at liberty to imagine and invent, and excited all
those sentiments of pity and indignation which. a
very young prince of great hopes, cruelly murdered
by his uncle, naturally inspire. Philip had never
missed an occasion of endeavoring to ruin the King
of England: and having now acquired an opportunity of accomplishing that by justice which he had
in vain sought by ambition, he filled every place with
complaints of the cruelty of John, whom, as a vassal
to the crown of France, the king accused of the murder of another vassal, and summoned him to Paris to
? ? ? ? 444 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
be tried by his peers. It was by no means consistent
either with the dignity or safety of John to appear to
this summons. He had the argument of kings to
justify what he had done. But as in all great crimes
there is something of a latent weakness, and in a vicious caution something material is ever neglected,
John, satisfied with removing his rival, took no
thought about his enemy; but whilst he saw himself sentenced for non-appearance in the
Court of Peers, whilst he saw the King of
France entering Normandy with a vast army in con-:sequence of this sentence, and place after place, castle after castle, falling before him, he passed his time at Rouen in the profoundest tranquillity, indulging
himself in indolent amusements, and satisfied with
vain threatenings and boasts, which only added
greater shame to his: inactivity. The English barons who had attended him in this expedition, disaffected from the beginning, and now wearied with
being so long witnesses to the ignominy of their
sovereign, retired to their own country, and there
spread the report of his unaccountable sloth and
cowardice. John quickly followed them; and returning into his kingdom, polluted with the charge
of so heavy a crime, and disgraced by so many follies, instead of aiming by popular acts to reistablish
his character, he exacted a seventh of their movables
from the barons, on pretence that they had deserted
his service. He laid the same imposition on the clergy, without giving himself the trouble of seeking for
a pretext. He made no proper use of these great
supplies, but saw the great city of Rouen, always
faithful to its sovereigns, and now exerting the most
strenuous efforts in his favor, obliged at length to
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF' ENGLISH HISTORY. 445
surrender, without. the least attempt to relieve it.
Thus the whole Duchy of Normandy, originally ac.
quired by the valor of his ancestors, and the source
from which the greatness of his family had been derived, after being supported against all shocks for three hundred years, was torn forever from the stock
of Rollo, and reunited to the crown of France. Immediately all the rest of the provinces which he held on the continent, except a part of Guienne, despairing of his protection, and abhorring his government, threw themselves into the hands of Philip.
Meanwhile the king by his personal vices completed
the odium which he had acquired by the impotent
violence of his government. Uxorious and yet dissolute in his manners, he made no scruple frequently to violate the wives and daughters of his nobility,
that rock on which tyranny has so often split. Other
acts of irregular power, in their greatest excesses,,still retain the characters of sovereign authority; but here the vices of the prince intrude into the families
of the subject, and, whilst they aggravate the oppression, lower the character of the oppressor.
In the disposition which all these causes had concurred universally to diffuse, the slightest motion in his kingdom threatened the most dangerous consequences. Those things which in quiet times would have only raised a slight controversy, now, when the
minds of men were exasperated and inflamed, were
capable of affording matter to the greatest revolutions. The affairs of the Church, the winds which mostly governed the fluctuating people, were to be
regarded with the utmost attention. Above all, the
person who filled the see'of Canterbury, which stood
on a level with the throne itself, was a matter of the
? ? ? ? 446 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
last importance. Just at this critical time died Hubert, archbishop of that see, a man who had a large
share in procuring the crown for John, and in weakening its authority by his acts at the ceremony of
the coron~ation, as well as by his subsequent conduct.
Immediately on the death of this prelate, a cabal
of obscure monks, of the Abbey of St. Augustin,
assemble. by night, and first binding themselves by
a solemn oath not to divulge their proceedings, until
they should be confirmed by the Pope, they elect one
Reginald, their sub-prior, Archbishop of Canterbury.
The person elected immediately crossed the seas; but
his vanity soon discovered the secret of his greatness.
The king received the news of this transaction with
surprise and indignation. Provoked at such a contempt of his authority, he fell severely on the monastery, no less surprised than himself at the clandestine proceeding of some of its members. But the sounder part pacified him in some measure by their
submission. They elected a person recommended by
the king, and sent fourteen of the most respectable
of their body to Rome, to pray that the former proceedings should be annulled, and the later and more
regular confirmed. To this matter of contention
another was added. A dispute had long subsisted
between the suffragan bishops of the province of Canterbury and the monks of the Abbey of St. Austin,
each claiming a right to elect the metropolitan. This
dispute was now revived, and pursued with much
vigor. The pretensions of the three contending parties were laid before the Pope, to whom such disputes
were highly pleasing, as he knew that all claimants
willingly' conspire to flatter and aggrandize that
authority from which they expect a confirmation
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 447
of their own. The first election he nulled, because
its irregularity was glaring. The right of the bishops was entirely rejected: the Pope looked with an
evil eye upon those whose authority he was every day
usurping. The second election was set aside, as made
at the king's instance: this was enough to make it
very irregular. The canon law had now grown up
to its full strength. The enlargement of the prerogative of the Pope was the great object of this jurisprudence, -a prerogative which, founded on fictitious
monuments, that are forged in an ignorant age, easily admitted by- a credulous people, and afterwards
confirmed and enlarged by these admissions, not satisfied with the supremacy, encroached on every minute part of Church government, and had almost
annihilated the episcopal jurisdiction throughout Europe. Some canons had given the metropolitan a
power of nominating a bishop, when the circumstances of the election were palpably irregular; and
as it does not appear that there was any other judge
of the irregularity than the metropolitan himself, the
election below in effect became nugatory. The Pope,
taking the irregularity in this case for granted, in virtue of this canon, and by his plenitude of power, ordered the deputies of Canterbury to proceed to a new
election. At the same time he recommended to their
choice Stephen Langton, their countryman, -- a person already distinguished for his learning, of irreproachable morals, and free from every canonical impediment. This authoritative request the monks had not the courage to oppose in the Pope's presence and
in his own city. They murmured, and submitted.
In England this proceeding was not so easily ratified. John drove the monks of Canterbury from
? ? ? ? 448 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
their monastery, and, having seized upon their revenues, threatened the effects of the same indignation against all those who seemed inclined to acquiesce in the proceedings of Rome. But Rome had not made so bold a step with intention to recede. On the king's positive refusal to admit Langton, and the expulsion of the monks of Canterbury,
England was laid under an interdict. Then
La D. 1208.
divine service at once ceased throughout the
kingdom; the churches wer'e shut; the sacraments
were suspended; the dead were buried without hon
or, in highways and ditches, and the living deprived
of all spiritual comfort. On the other hand, the king
let loose his indignation against the ecclesiastics,seizing their goods, throwing many into prison, and
permitting or encouraging all sorts of violence against
them. The kingdom was thrown into the most terrible confusion; whilst the people, unicertain of the
object or measure of their allegiance, and distracted
with opposite principles of duty, saw themselves deprived of their religious rites by the ministers of
religion, and their king, furious with wrongs not
caused by them, falling indiscriminately on the innocent and the guilty: for John, instead of soothing
his people in this their common calamity, sought to
terrify them into obedience. In a progress whicl he
made into the North, he threw down the inclosures
of his forests, to let loose the wild beasts upon their
lands; and as -he saw the Papal proceedings increase
with his opposition, he thought it necessary to strengthen himself by new devices. He extorted hostages and
a new oath of fidelity from his barons. He raised a
great army, to divert the thoughts of his subjects
from brooding too much on their distracted condi
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 449
tion. This army he transported into Ireland; and
as it happened to his father in a similar dispute with
the Pope, whilst he was dubious of his hereditary
kingdom, he subdued Ireland. At this time he is
said to have established the English laws in that
kingdom, and to have appointed itinerant justices.
At length the sentence of excommunication was
fulminated against the king. In the same year the
same sentence was pronounced upon the Emperor
Otho; and this daring Pope was not afraid at once
to drive to extremities the two greatest princes in
Europe. And truly, nothing is more remarkable
than the uniform steadiness of the court of Rome in,
the pursuits of her ambitious projects. For, know-.
ing that pretensions which stand merely in opinionh
cannot bear to be questioned in any part, though she,
had hitherto seen the interdict produce but little ef --
fect, and perceived that the excommunication itself
could draw scarce one poor bigot from the king's
service, yet she receded not the least point from the
utmost of her demand. She broke off an accommodation just on the point of being concluded, because the king refused to repair the losses which the clergy
had suffered, though he agreed to everything else,.
and even submitted to receive the archbishop, who,,
being obtruded on him, had in reality been set over.
him. But the Pope, bold as politic, determined to
render him perfectly submissive, and to this purpose brought out the last arms of the ecclesiastic stores, which were reserved for the most extreme
occasions. Having first released the English subjects
from their oath of allegiance, by an unheard-of presumption, he formally deposed John from his throne and dignity; he invited the King of France to take
VOL. VII. 29
? ? ? ? 450 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
possession of the forfeited crown; he called forth all
persons from all parts of Europe to assist in this expedition, by the pardons and privileges of those who fought for the Holy Land.
This proceeding did not astonish the world. The
King of France, having driven John from all he held
on the continent, gladly saw religion itself invite him
to further conquests. He summoned all his vassals,
under the penalty of felony, and the opprobrious
name of culvertage,* (a name of all things dreaded
by both nations,) to attend- in this expedition; and
such force had this threat, and the hope of plunder
in. 1213 i England, that a very great army was in
a short time assembled. A fleet also rendezvoused in the mouth of the Seine, by the writers
of these times said to consist of seventeen hundred
sail. On this occasion John roused all his powers.
He called upon all his people who by the duty
of their tenure or allegiance were obliged to defend
their lord and king, and in his writs stimulated them
by the same threats of culvertage which had been
employed against him. They operated powerfully in
his favor. His fleet in number exceeded the vast
navy of France; his army was in everything but
heartiness to the cause equal, and, extending along
the coast of Kent, expected the descent of the French
forces.
Whilst these two mighty armies overspread the opposite coasts, and the sea was covered with their fleets, and the. decision of so vast an event was hourly expected, various thoughts arose in the minds of those who moved the springs of these affairs. John, at the
* A word of uncertain derivation, but which signifies some scandalous species of cowardice.
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 451.
Lead of one of the finest armies in the world, trembled
inwardly, when he reflected how little he possessed
or merited their confidence. Wounded by the consciousness of his crimes, excommunicated by the
Pope, hated by his subjects, in danger of being at
once abandoned by heaven and earth, he was filled
with the most fearful anxiety. The legates of the
Pope had hitherto seen everything succeed to their
wish. But having made use of an instrument too
great for them to wield, they apprehended, that, when
it had overthrown their adversary, it might recoil
upon the court of Rome itself; that to add England
to the rest of Philip's great possessions was not the
way to make him humble; and that ill ruining John
to aggrandize that monarch, they should set up a
powerful enemy in the place of a submissive vassal.
They had done enough to give them a superiority
in any negotiation, and they privately sent an embassy to the King of England. Finding him very tractable, they hasted to complete the treaty. The Pope's
legate, Pandulph, was intrusted with this affair. He
knew the nature of men to be such that they seldom
engage willingly, if the whole of an hardship be
shown them at first, but that, having advanced a certain length, their former concessions are an argument
with them to advance further, and to give all because
they have already given a great deal. Therefore he
began with exacting an oath from the king, by which,
without showing the extent of his design, he engaged
him to everything he could ask. John swore to submit to the legate in all things relating to his excommunication. And first he was obliged to accept Langton as archbishop; then to restore the monks of Canterbury, and other deprived ecclesiastics, and to
? ? ? ? 452 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
make them a full indemnification for all their losses.
And now, by these concessions, all things seemed to
be perfectly settled. The cause of the quarrel was
entirely removed. But when the king expected for
so perfect a submission a full absolution, the legate
began a labored harangue on his rebellion, his tyran
ny, and the innumerable sins he had committed, and
in conclusion declared that there was no way left to
appease God and the Church but to resign his crown
to the Holy See, from whose hands he should receive
it purified from all pollutions, and hold it for the future by homage and an annual tribute.
John was struck motionless at a demand so extravagant and unexpected. He knew not on which side
to turn. If he cast his eyes toward the coast of
France, he there saw his enemy Philip, who considered him as a oriminal as well as an enemy, and who aimed not only at his crown, but his life, at the head.
of an innumerable multitude of fierce people, ready
to rush in upon him. If he looked at hlis own army,
he saw nothing there but coldness, disaffection, un-.
certainty, distrust, and a strength in which he knew
not whether he ought most to confide or fear. On
the other hand, the Papal thunders, from the wounds
of which he was still sore, were levelled full at his
head. He could not look steadily at these complicated difficulties: and truly it is hard to say what choice he had, if any choice were left to kings in what
concerns the independence of their crown. Surrounded; therefore, with these difficulties, and that all his late humiliations might not be rendered as ineffectual as they were ignominious, he took the last step, and in the presence of a numerous assembly of
Ehis peers and prelates, who turned their eyes from
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT: OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 453
this mortifying sight, formally resigned his crown to
the Pope's legate, to whom at the same time he did
homage and paid the first fruits of his tribute. Nothing. could be added to the humiliation of the king
upon this occasion, but the insolence of the legate,
who spurned the treasure with his foot, and let the
crown remain a long time on the ground, before he
restored it to the degraded owner.
In this proceeding the motives of the king may be
easily discovered; but how the barons of the kingdom, who were deeply concerned, suffered without
*any protestation the independency of the crown to
be thus forfeited is mentioned by no historian of that
time. In civil tumults it is astonishing how little regard is paid by all parties to. the honor or safety of
their country. The king's friends were probably induced to acquiesce by the same motives that had influenced the king. His enemies, who were the most numerous, perhaps saw his abasement with pleasure. ,
as they. knew this action might be one day employed
against him with effect. To the bigots it was enough
that it aggrandized the Pope. It is perhaps worthy
of observation that the conduct: of Pandulph towards
King:John bore a very great affinity to that -of the
Roman consuls to the people of Carthage in the last
Punic War, - drawing them from concession to concession, and carefully concealing their design, until
they made it impossible for the Carthaginians to resist. Such a strong resemblance did the same ambition produce in. such distant times; and it is far from the sole instance in which we may trace a similarity
between the spirit and conduct of the former and latter Rome in their common design on the liberties of
mankind
? ? ? ? 454 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
The legates, having thus triumphed over the king,
passed back into France, but without relaxing the
interdict or excommunication, which they still left
hanging over him, lest he should be tempted to throw
off the chains of his new subjection. Arriving in
France, they delivered their orders to Philip with as
much haughtiness as they had done to John. They
told him that the end of the war was answered in the
humiliation of the King of England, who had been
rendered a dutiful son of the Church,- and that, if
the King of France should, after this notice, proceed
to further hostilities, he had to apprehend the same
sentence which had humbled his adversary. Philip,
-who had not raised so great an army with a view of
reforming the manners of King John, would have
slighted these threats, had he not found that they
were seconded by the ill dispositions of a part of his
own army. The Earl of Flanders, always disaffected
to his cause, was glad of this opportunity to oppose
him, and, only following him through fear, withdrew
his forces, and now openly opposed him. Philip
turned his arms against his revolted vassal. The
cause of John was revived by this dissension, and his
courage seemed rekindled. Making one effort of a
vigorous mind, he brought his fleet to an action with
the French navy, which he entirely destroyed on the
coast of Flanders, and thus freed himself from the
terror of an invasion. But when he intended to embark and improve his success, the barons refused to
follow him.
exhausted. It is a melancholy reflection, that the
spirit of great designs can seldom be inspired, but
where the reason of mankind is so uncultivated that
they can be turned to little advantage.
With this war ended the fortune of Richard, who
found the Saracens less dangerous than his Christian
allies. It is not well known what motive induced
him to land at Aquileia, at the bottom of the Gulf of
Venice, in order to take his route by Germany; but
he pursued his journey through the territories of the
Duke of'Austria, whom he had personally affronted
at the siege of Acre. And now, neither keeping himself'out of the power of that prince, nor rousing his
generosity by. seeming to confide in it, he attempted
to get through his dominions in disguise. Sovereigns
do not easily assume the private character; their
pride seldom suffers their disguise to be complete:
besides, Richard had made himself but too well
known. The Duke, transported with the opportunity of base revenge, discovered him, seized him,
and threw him into prison; from whence he was
only released to be thrown into another. The Emperor claimed him, and, without regarding A. D. 1193.
in this unfortunate captive the common dignity of sovereigns, or his great actions in the common
cause of Europe, treated him with yet greater cruelty.
To give a color of justice to his violence, he proposed
to accuse Richard at the Diet of the Empire upon
certain articles relative to his conduct in the Holy
Land.
The. news of the king's captivity caused the greatest consternation in all his good subjects; but it revived the hopes and machinations of Prince John, who bound himself by closer ties than ever to the
? ? ? ? 432 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
King of France, seized upon some strongholds in
England, and, industriously spreading a report of his
brother's death, publicly laid claim to the crown. as
lawful successor. All his endeavors, however, served
only to excite the indignation of the people, and to
attach them the more firmly to: their unfortunate
prince. Eleanor, the queen dowager, as good a mother as she had been a bad wife, acted with the utmost
vigor and prudence to retain them in their duty, and
omitted no means to procure the liberty of her son.
The nation seconded her with a zeal, in their circumstances,i uncommon. No tyrant ever imposed so severe a tax upon his people as the affection of the people of England, already exhausted, levied upon
themselves. The most favored religious orders were
charged on this occasion. The Church plate was
sold. The ornaments of the most holy relics were
not spared. And, indeed, nothing serves more to
demonstrate the poverty of the kingdom, reduced by
internal dissensions and remote wars, at that time,
than: the extreme difficulty of collecting the king's
ransom, which amounted to no more than one hundred thousand marks of silver, Cologne weight. For
raising this sum, the first taxation, the most heavy
and general that was ever known in England, proved
altogether insufficient. Another taxation was set on
foot. It was levied with the same rigor as the former',
and still fell short. Ambassadors were sent into Germany with all that could be raised, and with hostages
for the payment of whatever remained. The king
met these ambassadors as he was carried in chains to
plead his cause before the Diet of the Empire. The
ambassadors burst into tears at this affecting sight,
lrnd wept aloud; but Richard, though touched no
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 433
less with the affectionate loyalty of his subjects than
with his own fallen condition, preserved his dignity
entire in his misfortunes, and with a cheerful air inquired of the state of his dominions, the behavior of. the King of Scotland, and the fidelity of his brother,
the Count John. At the Diet, no longer protected
by the character of a sovereign, he was supported by
his personal abilities. He had a ready wit and great
natural eloquence; and his high reputation and the
weight of his cause pleading for him more strongly,
the Diet at last interested itself in his favor, and prevailed on the Emperor to accept an excessive ransom for dismissing a prisoner whom he detained without
the least color of justice. Philip moved heaven and!
earth to prevent his enlargement: he negotiated, he
promised, he flattered, he threatened, he outbid his
extravagant ransom. The Emperor, in his own nature more inclined to the bribe, which tempted him
to be base, hesitated a long time between these offers.
But as the payment of the ransom was more certain
than Philip's promises, and as the instances of the
Diet, and the menaces of the Pope, who protected
Richard, as a prince serving under the Cross, were of
more immediate consequence than his threats, Richard was at length released; and though it is said the Emperor endeavored to seize him again, to extort an
other ransom, he escaped safely into England. 'Richard, on his coming to England, found
A. D. 1194.
all things in the utmost confusion; but before he'attempted to apply a remedy to so obstinate
a disease, in order to wipe off any degrading ideas
which might have arisen from his imprisonment, he
caused himself to be new crowned. Then holding:
his Court of Great Council at Southampton, he made:
VOL. VII. 28
? ? ? ? 434 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
-some useful regulations in the distribution of justice.
He called some great offenders to a strict account.
Count John deserved no favor, and he lay entirely
at the king's mercy, who, by an unparalleled generosity, pardoned him his multiplied offences, only depriving him of the power of which he had made so bad a use. Generosity did not oblige him to forget
the hostilities of the King of France. But to prosecute the war money was wanting, which new taxes
and new devices supplied with difficulty and with
dishonor. All the mean oppressions of a necessitous
government were exercised on this occasion. All the
grants which were made on the king's departure to
the Holy Land were revoked, on the weak pretence
that the purchasers had sufficient recompense whilst
they held them. Necessity seemed to justify this, as
well as many other measures that were equally violent. The whole revenue of the crown had been dissipated; means to support its dignity must be found; and these means were the least unpopular, as most
men saw with pleasure the wants of government fall
upon those who had started into a sudden greatness
by taking advantage of those wants.
Richard renewed the war with Philip, which continued, though frequently interrupted by truces, for
about five years. In this war Richard signalized
himself by that irresistible courage which on all
occasions gave him a superiority over the King of
France. But his revenues were exhausted; a great
scarcity reigned both in France and England; and
the irregular manner of carrying oil war in those
days prevented a clear decision in favor of either
party. Richard had still ail eye on the Holy Land,
which he considered as the only province worthy of
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 435
his arms; and this continually diverted his thoughts
from the steady prosecution of the war in France.
The Crusade, like a superior orb, moved along with
all the particular systems of politics of that time,
and suspended, accelerated, or put back all operations on motives foreign to the things themselves.
In this war it must be remarked that Richard made
a considerable use of the mercenaries who had been
so serviceable to Henry the Second; and the King
of France, perceiving how much his father, Louis,
had suffered by a want of that advantage, kept on
foot a standing army in constant pay, which none
of his predecessors had done before him, and which
afterwards for a long time very unaccountably -fell
into disuse in both kingdoms.
Whilst this war was carried on by intervals and
starts, it came to the ears of Richard that a nobleman of Limoges had found on his lands a considerable hidden treasure. The king, necessitous and rapacious to the last degree, and stimulated by the
exaggeration and marvellous circumstances which
always attend the report of such discoveries, immediately sent to demand the treasure, under pretence
of the rights of seigniory. The Limosin, either because he had really discovered nothing or that he
was unwilling to part with so valuable an acquisition, refused to comply with the king's demand, and
fortified his castle. Enraged at the disappointment,
Richard relinquished the important affairs in which
he was engaged, and laid siege to this castle with all
the eagerness of a man who has his heart set upon a
trifle. In this siege he received a wound from -an
arrow, and it proved mortal; but in the last, as in all
the other acts of his life, something truly noble shone
? ? ? ? 436 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
out amidst the rash and irregular motions of his mind.
The castle was taken before he died. The man from
whom Richard had received the wound was brought
before him. Being asked why he levelled his arrow
at the king, he answered, with an undaunted countenance, "that the king with his own hand had slain his two brothers; that he thanked God who gave him
an opportunity to revenge their deaths even with the
certainty of his own. " Richard, more touched with
the magnanimity of the man than offended at the injury he had received or the boldness of the answer, ordered that his life should be spared. He appointed
his brother John to the succession; and with these. . 1199. acts ended a life and reign distinguished by
a great variety of fortunes in different parts
of the world, and crowned with great military glory,
but without any accession of power to himself, or
prosperity to his people, whom he entirely neglected,
and reduced, by his imprudence and misfortunes, to
no small indigence and distress.
In many respects, a striking parallel presents itself between this ancient King of England and
Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden. They were both
inordinately desirous of war, and rather generals
than kings. Both were rather fond of glory than
ambitious of empire. Both of them made and deposed sovereigns. They both carried on their wars
at a distance from home. They were both made
prisoners by a friend and ally. They were both reduced by an adversary inferior in war, but above
them in the arts of rule. After spending their lives
in remote adventures, each perished at last near home
in enterprises not suited to the splendor of their former exploits. Both died childless. And both, by
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 437
the neglect of their affairs and the severity of their
government, gave their subjects provocation and encouragement to revive their freedom. - In all these respects the two characters were alike; but Richard
fell as mrch short of the Swedish hero in temperance, chastity, and equality of mind as he exceeded him in wit and eloquence. Some of his sayings are
the most spirited that we find in that time; and some
of his verses remain, which in a barbarous age might
have passed f6r poetry.
CHAPTER VIII.
REIGN OF JOHN.
WE are now arrived at one of the most
A. D. 1199.
memorable periods in the English story,
whether we consider the astonishing revolutions
which were then wrought, the calamities in which
both the prince and people were involved, or the
happy consequences which, arising from the midst
of those calamities, have constituted the glory and
prosperity of England for so- many years. We shall
see a throne founded in arms, and augmented by
the successive policy of five able princes, at once
shaken to its foundations: first made tributary by
the arts of a foreign power; then limited, and almost overturned, by the violence of its subjects.
We shall see a king, to reduce his people to obedience, draw into his territories a tumultuary foreign army, and destroy his country instead of establishing
his government. We shall behold the people, grown
desperate, call in another foreign army, with a foreign
? ? ? ? 438 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
prince at its head, and throw away that liberty which
they had sacrificed everything to preserve. We shall
see the arms of this prince successful against an established king in the vigor of his years, ebbing in the
full tide of their prosperity, and yielding to an infant: after this, peace and order and liberty restored,
the foreign force and foreign title purged off, and all
things settled as happily as beyond all hope.
Richard dying without lawful issue, the succession
to his dominions again became dubious. They consisted of various territories, governed by various rules
of descent, and all of them uncertain. There were
two competitors: the first was Prince John, youngest
son of Henry the Second; the other was Arthur, son
of Constance of Bretagne, by Geoffrey, the third son
of that monarch. If the right of consanguinity were
only considered, the title of John to the whole succession had been indubitable. If the right df representation had then prevailed, which now universally prevails, Arthur, as standing in the place of his father, Geoffrey, had a solid claim. About Brittany there
was no dispute. Anjou, Poitou, Touraine, and Guienne declared in favor of Arthur, on the principle of
representation. Normandy was entirely for John. In
England the point of law had never been entirely settled, but it seemed rather inclined to the side of con
sanguinity. Therefore in England, where this point
was dubious at best, the claim of Arthur, an infant
and a stranger, had little force against the pretensions
of John, declared heir by the will of the late king,
supported by his armies, possessed of his treasures,
and at the head of a powerful party. He secured in
his interests Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, and
Glanville, the chief justiciary, and by them the body
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 439
of the ecclesiastics and the law. It is remarkable,
also, that he paid court to the cities and boroughs,
which is the first instance of that policy: but several
of these communities now happily began to emerge
from their slavery, and, taking advantage of the necessities and confusion of the late reign, increased in
wealth and consequence, and had then first attained
a free and regular form of administration. The
towns new to power declared heartily in favor of a
prince who was willing to allow that their declaration could confer a right. The nobility, who saw
themselves beset by the Church, the law, and the
burghers, had taken no measures, nor even a resolution, and therefore had nothing left but to concur in acknowledging the title of John, whom they
knew and hated. But though they were not able to
exclude him from the succession, they had strength
enough to oblige him to a solemn promise of restoring those liberties and franchises which they had always claimed without having ever enjoyed or even
perfectly understood. The clergy also took advantage of the badness of his title to establish one altogether as ill founded. Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the speech which he delivered at the king's coronation, publicly affirmed that the crown
of England was of right elective. He drew his examples in support of this doctrine, not from the histories of the ancient Saxon kings, although a species
of election within a certain family had then frequently prevailed, but from the history of the first kings of
the Jews: without doubt in order to revive those pretensions which the clergy first set up in the election
of Stephen, and which they had since been obliged
to conceal, but had not entirely forgotten.
? ? ? ? 440 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
John accepted a sovereignty weakened in the very
act by which he acquired it; but he submitted t(o the
times. He came to the throne at the age of thirtytwo. He had entered early into business, and had
been often involved in difficult and arduous enterprises, iii which he experienced a variety of men and
fortunes. His father, whilst he was very young, had
sent him into Ireland, which kingdom was destined
for his portion, inl order to habituate that people to
their future sovereign, and to give the young prince
an opportunity of conciliating the favor of his new
subjects. But he gave on this occasion no good
omens of capacity for government. Full of the insolent levity of a young man of high rank without education, and surrounded with others equally unpractised, he insulted the Irish chiefs, and, ridiculing their uncouth garb and manners, he raised such a disaffection to the English government, and so much opposition to it, as all the wisdom of his father's best officers
and counsellors was hardly able to overcome. In the
decline of his father's life he joined in the rebellion
of his brothers, with so much more guilt as with more
ingratitude and hypocrisy. During the reign of Richard he was the perpetual author of seditions and tumults; and yet was pardoned, and even favored by
that prince to his death, when he very unaccountably appointed him heir to all his dominions.
It was of the utmost moment to John, who had no
solid title, to conciliate the favor of all the world.
Yet one of his first steps, whilst his power still remained dubious and unsettled, was, on pretence of
consanguinity, to divorce his wife Avisa, with whom
he had lived many years, and to marry Isabella of
Angouleme, a woman of extraordinary beauty, but
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 441
who had been betrothed to Hugh, Count of Marche:
thus disgusting at once the powerful friends of his
divorced wife, and those of the Earl of Marche, whom
lie had so sensibly wronged.
The King of France, Philip Augustus, saw with
pleasure these proceedings of John, as he had before
rejoiced at the dispute about the succession. He had
been always employed, and sometimes with success,
to reducde the English power through the reigns of
one very able and one very warlike prince. He had
greater advantages in this conjuncture, and a prince
of quite another character now to contend with. He
was therefore not long without choosing his part;
and whilst he secretly encouraged the Count of
Marche, already stimulated by his private wrongs, he
openly supported the claim of Arthur to the Duchies
of Anjou and Touraine. It was the character of this
prince readily to lay aside and as readily to reassume
his enterprises, as his affairs demanded. He saw
that he had declared himself too rashly, and that he
was in danger of being assaulted upon every side.
He saw it was necessary to break an alliance, which
the nice circumstances and timid character of John
would enable him to do. In fact, John was at this
time united in a close alliance with the Emperor and
the Earl of Flanders; and these princes were engaged in a war with France. He had then a most favorable opportunity to establish all his claims, and
at the same time to put the King of France out of a
condition to question them ever after. But
A. D. 1200.
he suffered himself to be overreached by
the artifices of Philip: he consented to a treaty of
peace, by which he received an empty acknowledgment of his right to the disputed territories, and in
? ? ? ? 442 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
return for which acknowledgment he renounced his
alliance with the Emperor. By this act he at once
strengthened his enemy, gave up his ally, and lowered his, character with his subjects and with all the
world. . D1201 This treaty was hardly signed, when the
ill consequences of his conduct became evi-. dent. The Earl of Marche and Arthur immediately renewed their claims and hostilities under the protection of the King of France, who made a strong diversioni by invading Normandy. At the commencement of these motions, John, by virtue of a prerogative hitherto undisputed, summoned his English barons to attend him into France; but instead of a compliance with his orders, he was surprised with a
solemn demand of their ancient liberties. It is astonishing that the barons should at that time have
ventured on a resolution of such dangerous importance, as they had provided no sort of means to support them.
But the history of those times furnishes
many instances of the like want of design in the most
momentous affairs, and shows that it is in vail to
look for political causes for the actions of men, who
were most commonly directed by a brute caprice,
and were for the greater part destitute of any fixed
principles of obedience or resistance. The king, sensible of the weakness of his barons, fell upon some
of their castles with such timely vigor, and treated
those whom he had reduced with so much severity,
that the rest immediately and abjectly submitted.
He levied a severe tax upon their fiefs; and thinking
himself more strengthened by this treasure'than the
forced service of his barons, he excused the personal
attendance of most of them, and, passing into Nor
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 44L3
mandy, he raised an army there. He found
A. D. 1202.
that his enemies had united their forces,
and invested the castle of Mirebeau, a place of importance, in which his mother,, from whom he derived his right to Guienne, was besieged. He flew to the
relief of this place with the spirit of a greater character, and the success was answerable. The Breton and Poitevin army was defeated, his mother was
freed, and the young Duke of Brittany and his sister were made prisoners. The latter he sent into England, to be confined in the castle of Bristol; the
former he carried with him to Rouen. The good fortune of John now seemed to be at its highest point; but it was exalted on a precipice; and this great victory proved the occasion of all the evils which afflicted his life.
John was not of a character to resist the temptation of having the life of his rival in his hands. All historians are as fully agreed that he murdered his
nephew as they differ in the means by which he
accomplished that crime. But the report was soon
spread abroad, variously heightened in the circumstances by the obscurity of the fact, which left all men at liberty to imagine and invent, and excited all
those sentiments of pity and indignation which. a
very young prince of great hopes, cruelly murdered
by his uncle, naturally inspire. Philip had never
missed an occasion of endeavoring to ruin the King
of England: and having now acquired an opportunity of accomplishing that by justice which he had
in vain sought by ambition, he filled every place with
complaints of the cruelty of John, whom, as a vassal
to the crown of France, the king accused of the murder of another vassal, and summoned him to Paris to
? ? ? ? 444 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
be tried by his peers. It was by no means consistent
either with the dignity or safety of John to appear to
this summons. He had the argument of kings to
justify what he had done. But as in all great crimes
there is something of a latent weakness, and in a vicious caution something material is ever neglected,
John, satisfied with removing his rival, took no
thought about his enemy; but whilst he saw himself sentenced for non-appearance in the
Court of Peers, whilst he saw the King of
France entering Normandy with a vast army in con-:sequence of this sentence, and place after place, castle after castle, falling before him, he passed his time at Rouen in the profoundest tranquillity, indulging
himself in indolent amusements, and satisfied with
vain threatenings and boasts, which only added
greater shame to his: inactivity. The English barons who had attended him in this expedition, disaffected from the beginning, and now wearied with
being so long witnesses to the ignominy of their
sovereign, retired to their own country, and there
spread the report of his unaccountable sloth and
cowardice. John quickly followed them; and returning into his kingdom, polluted with the charge
of so heavy a crime, and disgraced by so many follies, instead of aiming by popular acts to reistablish
his character, he exacted a seventh of their movables
from the barons, on pretence that they had deserted
his service. He laid the same imposition on the clergy, without giving himself the trouble of seeking for
a pretext. He made no proper use of these great
supplies, but saw the great city of Rouen, always
faithful to its sovereigns, and now exerting the most
strenuous efforts in his favor, obliged at length to
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF' ENGLISH HISTORY. 445
surrender, without. the least attempt to relieve it.
Thus the whole Duchy of Normandy, originally ac.
quired by the valor of his ancestors, and the source
from which the greatness of his family had been derived, after being supported against all shocks for three hundred years, was torn forever from the stock
of Rollo, and reunited to the crown of France. Immediately all the rest of the provinces which he held on the continent, except a part of Guienne, despairing of his protection, and abhorring his government, threw themselves into the hands of Philip.
Meanwhile the king by his personal vices completed
the odium which he had acquired by the impotent
violence of his government. Uxorious and yet dissolute in his manners, he made no scruple frequently to violate the wives and daughters of his nobility,
that rock on which tyranny has so often split. Other
acts of irregular power, in their greatest excesses,,still retain the characters of sovereign authority; but here the vices of the prince intrude into the families
of the subject, and, whilst they aggravate the oppression, lower the character of the oppressor.
In the disposition which all these causes had concurred universally to diffuse, the slightest motion in his kingdom threatened the most dangerous consequences. Those things which in quiet times would have only raised a slight controversy, now, when the
minds of men were exasperated and inflamed, were
capable of affording matter to the greatest revolutions. The affairs of the Church, the winds which mostly governed the fluctuating people, were to be
regarded with the utmost attention. Above all, the
person who filled the see'of Canterbury, which stood
on a level with the throne itself, was a matter of the
? ? ? ? 446 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
last importance. Just at this critical time died Hubert, archbishop of that see, a man who had a large
share in procuring the crown for John, and in weakening its authority by his acts at the ceremony of
the coron~ation, as well as by his subsequent conduct.
Immediately on the death of this prelate, a cabal
of obscure monks, of the Abbey of St. Augustin,
assemble. by night, and first binding themselves by
a solemn oath not to divulge their proceedings, until
they should be confirmed by the Pope, they elect one
Reginald, their sub-prior, Archbishop of Canterbury.
The person elected immediately crossed the seas; but
his vanity soon discovered the secret of his greatness.
The king received the news of this transaction with
surprise and indignation. Provoked at such a contempt of his authority, he fell severely on the monastery, no less surprised than himself at the clandestine proceeding of some of its members. But the sounder part pacified him in some measure by their
submission. They elected a person recommended by
the king, and sent fourteen of the most respectable
of their body to Rome, to pray that the former proceedings should be annulled, and the later and more
regular confirmed. To this matter of contention
another was added. A dispute had long subsisted
between the suffragan bishops of the province of Canterbury and the monks of the Abbey of St. Austin,
each claiming a right to elect the metropolitan. This
dispute was now revived, and pursued with much
vigor. The pretensions of the three contending parties were laid before the Pope, to whom such disputes
were highly pleasing, as he knew that all claimants
willingly' conspire to flatter and aggrandize that
authority from which they expect a confirmation
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 447
of their own. The first election he nulled, because
its irregularity was glaring. The right of the bishops was entirely rejected: the Pope looked with an
evil eye upon those whose authority he was every day
usurping. The second election was set aside, as made
at the king's instance: this was enough to make it
very irregular. The canon law had now grown up
to its full strength. The enlargement of the prerogative of the Pope was the great object of this jurisprudence, -a prerogative which, founded on fictitious
monuments, that are forged in an ignorant age, easily admitted by- a credulous people, and afterwards
confirmed and enlarged by these admissions, not satisfied with the supremacy, encroached on every minute part of Church government, and had almost
annihilated the episcopal jurisdiction throughout Europe. Some canons had given the metropolitan a
power of nominating a bishop, when the circumstances of the election were palpably irregular; and
as it does not appear that there was any other judge
of the irregularity than the metropolitan himself, the
election below in effect became nugatory. The Pope,
taking the irregularity in this case for granted, in virtue of this canon, and by his plenitude of power, ordered the deputies of Canterbury to proceed to a new
election. At the same time he recommended to their
choice Stephen Langton, their countryman, -- a person already distinguished for his learning, of irreproachable morals, and free from every canonical impediment. This authoritative request the monks had not the courage to oppose in the Pope's presence and
in his own city. They murmured, and submitted.
In England this proceeding was not so easily ratified. John drove the monks of Canterbury from
? ? ? ? 448 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
their monastery, and, having seized upon their revenues, threatened the effects of the same indignation against all those who seemed inclined to acquiesce in the proceedings of Rome. But Rome had not made so bold a step with intention to recede. On the king's positive refusal to admit Langton, and the expulsion of the monks of Canterbury,
England was laid under an interdict. Then
La D. 1208.
divine service at once ceased throughout the
kingdom; the churches wer'e shut; the sacraments
were suspended; the dead were buried without hon
or, in highways and ditches, and the living deprived
of all spiritual comfort. On the other hand, the king
let loose his indignation against the ecclesiastics,seizing their goods, throwing many into prison, and
permitting or encouraging all sorts of violence against
them. The kingdom was thrown into the most terrible confusion; whilst the people, unicertain of the
object or measure of their allegiance, and distracted
with opposite principles of duty, saw themselves deprived of their religious rites by the ministers of
religion, and their king, furious with wrongs not
caused by them, falling indiscriminately on the innocent and the guilty: for John, instead of soothing
his people in this their common calamity, sought to
terrify them into obedience. In a progress whicl he
made into the North, he threw down the inclosures
of his forests, to let loose the wild beasts upon their
lands; and as -he saw the Papal proceedings increase
with his opposition, he thought it necessary to strengthen himself by new devices. He extorted hostages and
a new oath of fidelity from his barons. He raised a
great army, to divert the thoughts of his subjects
from brooding too much on their distracted condi
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 449
tion. This army he transported into Ireland; and
as it happened to his father in a similar dispute with
the Pope, whilst he was dubious of his hereditary
kingdom, he subdued Ireland. At this time he is
said to have established the English laws in that
kingdom, and to have appointed itinerant justices.
At length the sentence of excommunication was
fulminated against the king. In the same year the
same sentence was pronounced upon the Emperor
Otho; and this daring Pope was not afraid at once
to drive to extremities the two greatest princes in
Europe. And truly, nothing is more remarkable
than the uniform steadiness of the court of Rome in,
the pursuits of her ambitious projects. For, know-.
ing that pretensions which stand merely in opinionh
cannot bear to be questioned in any part, though she,
had hitherto seen the interdict produce but little ef --
fect, and perceived that the excommunication itself
could draw scarce one poor bigot from the king's
service, yet she receded not the least point from the
utmost of her demand. She broke off an accommodation just on the point of being concluded, because the king refused to repair the losses which the clergy
had suffered, though he agreed to everything else,.
and even submitted to receive the archbishop, who,,
being obtruded on him, had in reality been set over.
him. But the Pope, bold as politic, determined to
render him perfectly submissive, and to this purpose brought out the last arms of the ecclesiastic stores, which were reserved for the most extreme
occasions. Having first released the English subjects
from their oath of allegiance, by an unheard-of presumption, he formally deposed John from his throne and dignity; he invited the King of France to take
VOL. VII. 29
? ? ? ? 450 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
possession of the forfeited crown; he called forth all
persons from all parts of Europe to assist in this expedition, by the pardons and privileges of those who fought for the Holy Land.
This proceeding did not astonish the world. The
King of France, having driven John from all he held
on the continent, gladly saw religion itself invite him
to further conquests. He summoned all his vassals,
under the penalty of felony, and the opprobrious
name of culvertage,* (a name of all things dreaded
by both nations,) to attend- in this expedition; and
such force had this threat, and the hope of plunder
in. 1213 i England, that a very great army was in
a short time assembled. A fleet also rendezvoused in the mouth of the Seine, by the writers
of these times said to consist of seventeen hundred
sail. On this occasion John roused all his powers.
He called upon all his people who by the duty
of their tenure or allegiance were obliged to defend
their lord and king, and in his writs stimulated them
by the same threats of culvertage which had been
employed against him. They operated powerfully in
his favor. His fleet in number exceeded the vast
navy of France; his army was in everything but
heartiness to the cause equal, and, extending along
the coast of Kent, expected the descent of the French
forces.
Whilst these two mighty armies overspread the opposite coasts, and the sea was covered with their fleets, and the. decision of so vast an event was hourly expected, various thoughts arose in the minds of those who moved the springs of these affairs. John, at the
* A word of uncertain derivation, but which signifies some scandalous species of cowardice.
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 451.
Lead of one of the finest armies in the world, trembled
inwardly, when he reflected how little he possessed
or merited their confidence. Wounded by the consciousness of his crimes, excommunicated by the
Pope, hated by his subjects, in danger of being at
once abandoned by heaven and earth, he was filled
with the most fearful anxiety. The legates of the
Pope had hitherto seen everything succeed to their
wish. But having made use of an instrument too
great for them to wield, they apprehended, that, when
it had overthrown their adversary, it might recoil
upon the court of Rome itself; that to add England
to the rest of Philip's great possessions was not the
way to make him humble; and that ill ruining John
to aggrandize that monarch, they should set up a
powerful enemy in the place of a submissive vassal.
They had done enough to give them a superiority
in any negotiation, and they privately sent an embassy to the King of England. Finding him very tractable, they hasted to complete the treaty. The Pope's
legate, Pandulph, was intrusted with this affair. He
knew the nature of men to be such that they seldom
engage willingly, if the whole of an hardship be
shown them at first, but that, having advanced a certain length, their former concessions are an argument
with them to advance further, and to give all because
they have already given a great deal. Therefore he
began with exacting an oath from the king, by which,
without showing the extent of his design, he engaged
him to everything he could ask. John swore to submit to the legate in all things relating to his excommunication. And first he was obliged to accept Langton as archbishop; then to restore the monks of Canterbury, and other deprived ecclesiastics, and to
? ? ? ? 452 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
make them a full indemnification for all their losses.
And now, by these concessions, all things seemed to
be perfectly settled. The cause of the quarrel was
entirely removed. But when the king expected for
so perfect a submission a full absolution, the legate
began a labored harangue on his rebellion, his tyran
ny, and the innumerable sins he had committed, and
in conclusion declared that there was no way left to
appease God and the Church but to resign his crown
to the Holy See, from whose hands he should receive
it purified from all pollutions, and hold it for the future by homage and an annual tribute.
John was struck motionless at a demand so extravagant and unexpected. He knew not on which side
to turn. If he cast his eyes toward the coast of
France, he there saw his enemy Philip, who considered him as a oriminal as well as an enemy, and who aimed not only at his crown, but his life, at the head.
of an innumerable multitude of fierce people, ready
to rush in upon him. If he looked at hlis own army,
he saw nothing there but coldness, disaffection, un-.
certainty, distrust, and a strength in which he knew
not whether he ought most to confide or fear. On
the other hand, the Papal thunders, from the wounds
of which he was still sore, were levelled full at his
head. He could not look steadily at these complicated difficulties: and truly it is hard to say what choice he had, if any choice were left to kings in what
concerns the independence of their crown. Surrounded; therefore, with these difficulties, and that all his late humiliations might not be rendered as ineffectual as they were ignominious, he took the last step, and in the presence of a numerous assembly of
Ehis peers and prelates, who turned their eyes from
? ? ? ? ABRIDGMENT: OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 453
this mortifying sight, formally resigned his crown to
the Pope's legate, to whom at the same time he did
homage and paid the first fruits of his tribute. Nothing. could be added to the humiliation of the king
upon this occasion, but the insolence of the legate,
who spurned the treasure with his foot, and let the
crown remain a long time on the ground, before he
restored it to the degraded owner.
In this proceeding the motives of the king may be
easily discovered; but how the barons of the kingdom, who were deeply concerned, suffered without
*any protestation the independency of the crown to
be thus forfeited is mentioned by no historian of that
time. In civil tumults it is astonishing how little regard is paid by all parties to. the honor or safety of
their country. The king's friends were probably induced to acquiesce by the same motives that had influenced the king. His enemies, who were the most numerous, perhaps saw his abasement with pleasure. ,
as they. knew this action might be one day employed
against him with effect. To the bigots it was enough
that it aggrandized the Pope. It is perhaps worthy
of observation that the conduct: of Pandulph towards
King:John bore a very great affinity to that -of the
Roman consuls to the people of Carthage in the last
Punic War, - drawing them from concession to concession, and carefully concealing their design, until
they made it impossible for the Carthaginians to resist. Such a strong resemblance did the same ambition produce in. such distant times; and it is far from the sole instance in which we may trace a similarity
between the spirit and conduct of the former and latter Rome in their common design on the liberties of
mankind
? ? ? ? 454 ABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.
The legates, having thus triumphed over the king,
passed back into France, but without relaxing the
interdict or excommunication, which they still left
hanging over him, lest he should be tempted to throw
off the chains of his new subjection. Arriving in
France, they delivered their orders to Philip with as
much haughtiness as they had done to John. They
told him that the end of the war was answered in the
humiliation of the King of England, who had been
rendered a dutiful son of the Church,- and that, if
the King of France should, after this notice, proceed
to further hostilities, he had to apprehend the same
sentence which had humbled his adversary. Philip,
-who had not raised so great an army with a view of
reforming the manners of King John, would have
slighted these threats, had he not found that they
were seconded by the ill dispositions of a part of his
own army. The Earl of Flanders, always disaffected
to his cause, was glad of this opportunity to oppose
him, and, only following him through fear, withdrew
his forces, and now openly opposed him. Philip
turned his arms against his revolted vassal. The
cause of John was revived by this dissension, and his
courage seemed rekindled. Making one effort of a
vigorous mind, he brought his fleet to an action with
the French navy, which he entirely destroyed on the
coast of Flanders, and thus freed himself from the
terror of an invasion. But when he intended to embark and improve his success, the barons refused to
follow him.
