I., page 93.

A YEAR’S EXPENDITURE OF THE KING.

It is now more than eighty years since the Society of Antiquarians published “The Account of the Comptroller of the Wardrobe, of the twenty-eighth year of king Edward I., A.D. 1299–1300;” and it is probable that few of the readers of this volume have ever seen that publication. It seems desirable, therefore, to give, in this place, a brief sketch of that Account, the whole details of which form a quarto volume. We shall confine ourselves to a few general heads.

I.

The Keeper or treasurer of the Wardrobe acknowledges the receipt, from various sources, of a total sum, within the year, of£58,155 16s. 2d.

II.

He then gives an account of his disbursements, under twelve heads, as follows:—

To which is added, for some current expenses of the household, the particulars of which do not appear to have been preserved, the sum of £10,969 16s. 0d.

So that the treasurer, on this account, would appear to have been in advance. But there was, doubtless, money daily coming in, and he probably had some bills not yet discharged.

The calculations of Bishop Fleetwood’s tables show the value of money to have been fifteen times as great at that day as it is now. This would make the royal revenue to amount to about £800,000 per annum. Out of which the king paid, in 1300, what would now be about £500,000, for his troops, seamen, garrisons, etc.; about £270,000 for the expenses of his household, exclusive of robes, jewels, huntsmen, and charities; which last item, of alms and oblations, in the money of our time, would be equal to nearly £18,000 a-year.

II., page 165.

EDWARD’S OBTESTATION.

At first sight, remembering the constant and earnest attention to religious duties shown by Edward, we were inclined to doubt whether the chronicler might not be in error in ascribing this oath to the king; the more especially since the person addressed was named Bigod; so that it would be easy to fall into such an error. But, looking a little further, we found the pope himself, in a public reception of Edward’s ambassadors, asseverating “per Deum,” that he would do the king justice. So that it seems tolerably clear that even religious men, in those days, thought it lawful to use language similar to that employed by Abraham (Gen. xxiv. 3), by Joab (2 Sam. xix. 7), and by Nehemiah (xiii. 25). As to Edward himself, his whole character assures us, that he never used the Divine name lightly or irreverently.

III., page 239.

PARLIAMENT OF LINCOLN.

The requests preferred by the barons, and accorded by the king, were the Ist, IInd, IIIrd, IVth, and Vth, the VIIIth, IXth, Xth, and XIth. Those which he did not concede, were the following:—

VI.

“E ce ke mespris est par nul ministre soit amende solom ce ke le trespas le demaunde par auditours a ceo assignez qe ne soient pas suspecionus des Prelates, Contes, e Barons de la terre solom ceo kil mesmes ainz ces houres ad fet e qe ce seit meintenant mis en oevre.”

“Dominus Rex vult providere aliud remedium super hoc sed non per tales auditores.”

VII.

“E qe Viscontes de cest houre en avant respoignet des issues solom ce kil soleient fere en tens son Pere les queles issues unt este e uncore ore sunt a grand apovrissement du peuple. E ke Viscontes ne soient plus haut chargez.”

“Placet Dominus Rege quod de communi consilio provideatur super hoc quam cito commode poterit remedium optimum.”

XII.

“E par ceste choses suzdites ne pount ne osent pas les Prelates de seinte Eglise assenter ke contribucion seit fete de lur biens ne de biens de la clergie en contre le defens le Apostoille.”

“Non placuit Regi: sed communitas Procerium approbavit.”

IV., page 320.

On the general question, of the character of Edward’s rule, it is quite undeniable that there is no reign in English history which can compare with it for clemency.

If we turn to that of his weak and unworthy successor, we find it full of hurried executions. Thus, when he took Ledes Castle, he hanged up the governor and eleven knights. When he captured the earl of Lancaster, the earl was immediately sent to the scaffold; and with him fourteen knights and fourteen knights-banneret.

In the reign of Edward III., we have the execution of the earl of Kent, “son of the great Edward,” of Mortimer and Bereford, and of the earl of Menteith.

In Richard II.’s reign, we find Tresillian and Brambre, Burley and Beauchamp, Berners and Salisbury, and the earl of Arundel, sent to the scaffold.

In Henry IV.’s reign we hear of the execution of the earls of Kent and Salisbury, of lords Lumley and Despencer, of the earl of Huntingdon, of the earl of Worcester, of lord Kinderton, of Sir Richard Vernon, of the earl of Westmoreland, and of the archbishop of York.

Now Edward I.’s reign was not a calm or peaceful one. He had wars abroad and at home, conspiracies, and earls and archbishops opposed to him. Yet, during thirty years, and until the assassination of Comyn, we find, as we have just said, but three political executions—1. David of Snowdon, who in time of peace had stormed a castle, committing high-treason and murder; 2. Turberville, who had covenanted to assist the landing of the French; and 3. Wallace, who had ravaged two counties with fire and sword, “sparing neither sex nor age.” Say we not truly, then, that for clemency, Edward’s sway is almost without a parallel.

For half a century past, we have had a popular cry for “the abolition of the punishment of death”; and, very naturally, in our popular histories we meet with expressions of indignation, because Edward, in the course of thirty years, brought three persons to trial, and sent them to the scaffold; and because he, in the last year of his reign, capitally punished sixteen or eighteen others for their participation in a murder.

Yet every one of these persons was brought to a fair and open trial, and condemned by fit and competent judges. We censure the king now, believing that in the advance of civilization we have grown vastly more humane. Yet, what is our custom in this gentle and merciful reign of Queen Victoria?

In India, a few years since, we had to deal with some rebel princes, hardly better, but scarcely worse, than David of Snowdon. And how did we treat them? Here is the published narrative of one of the English officers engaged in suppressing the Sepoy rebellion.

Major Hodson writes, from India, in 1857:—“The next day I got permission to go and bring in the king (of Delhi) and his favourite wife and her son. This was successfully accomplished. I then set to work to get hold of the villain princes. I started for the tomb of the Emperor Humayoon, where they had taken sanctuary. After two hours of wordy strife, they appeared, and I sent them away under a guard…. I then went to look after my prisoners, who, with their guard, had moved towards Delhi. I came up just in time, and seizing a carbine from one of my men, I deliberately shot them one after another. I then ordered the bodies to be taken into the city and thrown out on the Chiboutre, in front of the Kotwallu. In twenty-four hours, therefore, I had disposed of the principal members of the house of Timur the Tartar.” This narrative is published without the least expression of regret by a clergyman of Trinity College, Cambridge.

Fourteen years more have passed away, and we have now a Republic established in France, professing, of course, universal philanthropy, benevolence, and kindness. And what is one of its latest acts? It has tried deliberately, and has deliberately sentenced to death, a Paris litterateur, for writing seditious articles in a newspaper!

And yet our great king is to be stigmatized as “vindictive” and “cruel,” because he sent to the scaffold a deceitful rebel, on whom he had conferred many favours, and who had attacked a castle, slaying its defenders;—a marauder, who had ravaged two English counties, “sparing neither sex nor age;” and a knot of Scottish traitors, who had assassinated the first noble in Scotland in a church, because he stood in the way of their treasonable purposes.