Edward I

by Michael Prestwich

  No discussion of the politics of this period would be complete without an examination of the character of the king himself. What sort of ruler was Edward I? Had he changed since the days when his lack of political wisdom and indifference to all save his own interests had imperilled the position of the crown in the crises of the late 1250s and 1260s? Had he learnt his political lessons and become a sound and sagacious statesman? The fickle young ruffian described by Matthew Paris and the author of the Song of Lewes[1008] was described in Fleta as a ruler who, ‘a friend of peace, a patron of charity, a maker of law, a son of power, does govern the people subject to his rule with never failing righteousness’.[1009] On his death lavish eulogies of Edward were written, notably by John of London, who even praised him for the mercy and justice he displayed towards the Welsh and Scots.[1010] The dominant view of English historians, epitomized in the writings of Powicke, has been of Edward as a great organizer and law-maker, concerned above all to ascertain, define and enforce his legal rights. His unattractive traits are often explained in terms of a deterioration of character in his later years, when he was saddened by the death of his wife Eleanor, deprived of the advice of Robert Burnell, and frustrated by failure in Scotland.

  Certainly Edward learnt much from his experiences in the late 1250s and 1260s. A conventional and conservative man, he came to understand the political value of instituting reforms and ensuring that government was efficiently conducted. He was aware of the value of propaganda and of making as wide an appeal as possible to his subjects, notably by summoning representatives to parliaments. He learnt that former opponents could turn into loyal supporters, as in the case of John d’Eyville, and so he displayed a wise moderation toward the lay magnates who opposed him in 1297.

  The king, however, had not undergone a complete transformation since his youth. One of the more outstanding characteristics of his behaviour in the course of the crises of Henry III’s reign had been his lack of regard for any promises that he made. His untrustworthiness had been shown by his initial refusal to swear to the Provisions of Oxford after he had agreed to accept the decisions of the twenty-four, his escape after his surrender at Gloucester in 1264, and his flight to join the Marchers in 1265 following the solemn assurances given on his release from close custody.[1011] Edward revealed similar, though even less excusable, bad faith in his dealings with Llywelyn, as one minor incident clearly reveals. An English merchant, Robert of Leicester, complained that Llywelyn’s men had seized his goods before the war of 1277. In defence the Welsh said that they had been taken as right of wreck. When complaint was made before the justice of Chester, goods belonging to Llywelyn in Chester were seized. Llywelyn complained to Edward on several occasions, and the king denied knowledge or responsibility, although a letter from the justice makes it clear that the distraint was made on the king’s express orders.[1012] Edward was consistently determined to extend his rights and powers in Wales by all possible means, misinterpreting the Treaty of Aberconway and ignoring past precedents.

  Edward can be accused of bad faith towards his Flemish allies when he abandoned them in 1297, but that was perhaps excusable in view of the weakness of his forces. In his relations with other countries, it was his treatment of the Scots that showed his unreliability most clearly. The way in which he went back on the promises he made during the negotiations that preceded the hearing of the Great Cause, insisting in particular on his right to hear appeals against judgements made by John Balliol, was criticized by Boniface VIII in Scimus Fili.[1013] It is hardly surprising that in the Declaration of Arbroath of 1320 the Scots were to declare, with much justification, that Edward ‘came in the guise of a friend and ally to invade them as an enemy’.[1014] In his dealings with the Welsh and Scots Edward developed a technique of applying pressure so that he could ultimately intervene with some justification, and he was prepared to delay the use of force until he had compelled his opponents to make a move. His firm determination to have his own way despite all setbacks and obstacles, and his lack of sympathy and understanding for his opponents, are very clear. In the case of the French war, his determination was revealed as unthinking obstinacy, for despite his problems in Wales and Scotland he refused to change his plans, and even when faced by imminent civil war at home, set out on his Flemish campaign with totally inadequate forces.

  The picture revealed by a study of Edward’s external policies is of an obstinate, proud man, so confident in the rectitude of his own cause as to be prepared to use the most dubious methods to obtain his own ends, and capable on occasion of surprising folly. Does this match with other evidence about Edward’s character? It certainly accords with the methods he used to control the English nobility, the way in which he tried to have his way by putting pressure on them, attacking their franchises and threatening to collect debts, rather than by using a system of grants and rewards for services. His manipulation of the normal rules of inheritance, notably in the cases of Aveline de Forz and Isabella de Redvers, provide examples of the way in which he was prepared to use highly dubious forms of legal chicanery which can be set beside his cavalier attitude towards the agreements made at various times with the Welsh and Scots.[1015] Another illustration of his bullying techniques is provided by the means he employed to obtain taxes from the clergy by threatening to place them out of his protection.[1016]

  On a more personal level, the unattractive aspects of the king’s character are shown by the childish petulance he displayed at the siege of Stirling, when he refused to allow the garrison to surrender until his latest siege engine had been tried out on the castle. There was the savagery towards Bruce’s sister Mary and the countess of Buchan, placed in cages hung from the walls of Roxburgh and Berwick.[1017] An entry in a wardrobe book refers to the repair of a coronet belonging to his daughter Elizabeth which Edward had thrown into the fire, so testifying to the evil temper he could display on occasion. He is said to have torn out as much of his son’s hair as he could, when understandably infuriated by the young man’s infatuation with Piers Gaveston.[1018]

  Edward in maturity continued to display many of the characteristics of his youth. Alongside his clemency to John d’Eyville and his moderation towards Bigod and Bohun must be placed the way in which he never forgave the Londoners for their rôle in the Barons’ Wars, and his lasting hostility towards the Ferrers family. It is not surprising that he carried through a bitter vendetta against William Wallace, and that he was never prepared to forgive Winchelsey. The king’s interest in legal reform and sound government was not based on any intellectual foundations: the household accounts and inventories mention no books he is likely to have read, although the use of Arthurian legend in royal propaganda may reflect his personal interests. While he paid for the education of two nephews of one of his Gascon clerks at Oxford in 1290,[1019] Edward was no patron of learning. The legal records do not suggest that he took any technical interest in the reforms instituted by such men as Hengham: Edward was no Henry II. He was capable of displaying a remarkable ignorance of the realities of administration. The two most notable examples of this both date from 1296, when he requested 60,000 infantry for the campaign in Scotland, and 100,000 quarters of grain for Gascony.[1020] It is therefore perhaps not so surprising to find that in the last fifteen years of reign the reforming drive that had characterized the earlier years disappeared. Edward had instigated reform for reasons of policy rather than from personal conviction. His policies — and particularly the Quo Warranto enquiries — had perhaps not achieved all that he had hoped, and from the 1290s he was surrounded by different ministers and advisers.

  Edward was not a brilliant, inspired ruler. But he had a strong personality, sometimes displayed in fits of temper, great determination and immense confidence. He made massive demands on his ministers and on his subjects as a result of his very considerable acquisitiveness. He aimed to achieve his conquests prudently, by means of a massive mobilization of all available resources, rather than by brilliant feats of generalship. Politicall
y, Edward had undoubted ability, though here also he tended to rely on subduing his opponents with a show of force rather than the use of skill. Much was achieved in his reign, but at the same time he posed new problems for his successor: he left an uncompleted war in Scotland, a huge financial deficit, and an unresolved political and constitutional dispute.

  XIII. The Social Consequences of War

  The effects of war upon government and politics in the reign of Edward I were very considerable. The need to organize the supply of men, money and materials prompted a development of administrative techniques. The costs of the campaigns made the crown increasingly dependent on the grant of taxation by its subjects represented in parliamentary assemblies. With the grant of the Ancient Custom in 1275, and the imposition of the maltolt in 1294, a pattern was set for the taxation of English trade in the rest of the middle ages. The demands made for military service, for money and for goods inevitably prompted political opposition, and as resources were not fully capable of meeting the immense requirements, the situation inherited by Edward II on his father’s death was an uncomfortable one.

  It would be wrong to express the changes that took place between 1272 and 1307 in terms of the replacement of a feudal by a national state; such generalizations obfuscate rather than illuminate the realities of the position. But the period was marked by aggressive government, both at home and externally, while at the same time the necessity for a measure of popular support was becoming increasingly evident in the later years of the reign. A clear contrast can be made between this period and the first twenty years of Edward’s rule. In the age of Burnell and Hengham the government was in control of events, with much valuable work of legal reform being carried out, as well as the conquest of Wales and the reorganization of the Gascon administration. With Burnell’s death and Hengham’s dismissal, and the unexpected combination of a war with Philip IV and revolts in Wales and Scotland, the period of crisis began, and the crown was unable to do more than react to events and circumstances dominated by war and its needs.

  What were the wider effects of the wars of Edward I’s reign, the impact upon society and the economy? During the Hundred Years War men like Hugh Calveley, Robert Knollys and John Chandos, having started from relatively obscure origins, gained wealth and reputation. Did they have counterparts under Edward I? In the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries war does not seem to have been a very important instrument in providing an impetus to social mobility. There were no great ransoms to be won in Wales and Scotland, while the English were not successful enough on the continent. Unlike their successors in the Hundred Years War, Edward I’s captains had no opportunities of taking and holding castles on their own, and of ravaging a rich countryside. There is no evidence to suggest that men like John Kingston, constable of Edinburgh from 1298 until the end of the reign, or William de Felton, commander first at Beaumaris and then at Linlithgow, made great profits out of war. Of course there were some men, like Eustace de l’Hacche,[1021] who rose in social status through their loyal service in the royal household. But Edward was not a king who believed in ruling by means of extensive patronage. He was an unfailing champion of the interests of his own family, and was in addition far more generous to foreigners than to his own English subjects. Amadeus of Savoy was granted 1000 marks a year for ten years in 1299, when such a grant could least be afforded.[1022] John of Brittany was also highly favoured, as was Otto de Grandson. It is interesting to see how much more the latter received than did Robert Tiptoft, even though they held equivalent posts as justiciars of North and West Wales respectively. No grants of lands to Tiptoft are recorded after 1272, though he did acquire estates from men such as John de Lovetot and Adam of Newmarket. Grandson received lavish estates from the king in Ireland, custody of the Channel Isles for life, and was given two manors and houses in London by the Queen Mother.[1023]

  The territorial gains that Edward’s conquests yielded were not sufficient to enable new men to build up substantial estates. No new Marchers were established in Wales, and in the north it was representatives of established baronial families who profited from the opportunities of war. Robert Clifford moved his family seat from South Wales to Westmorland, Henry Percy from Hampshire to Alnwick, and the earl of Warwick bought Barnard Castle from the crown.[1024] This was not a period of social stagnation, but it would be incorrect to argue that war was instrumental in bringing substantial wealth to new families. Indeed, it was more likely to serve as a cause of impoverishment, as Brian FitzAlan appreciated when he refused an important command in Scotland on the grounds that he could not afford it.[1025] It was not the military leaders, but the officials and justices who were in the best position to build up fortunes in the service of Edward I, as is demonstrated by the startling ability of those judges found guilty in the state trials of the early 1290s to pay their fines, and also by the evidence of Walter Langton’s riches.

  The way in which the magnates were summoned to perform military service had important social implications. There was at this time no clearly defined peerage in England. No particular title was used to distinguish a baron from a knight; both were entitled dominus in the records, just like important royal clerks without a university education. There was a technical meaning to the word baro: a baron paid a relief of £100 up to 1297, 100 marks thereafter. In practice, however, the term was loosely used, and comprised such a range of individuals as to be ineffective as a method of defining a distinct social group. But Edward’s methods of summoning the magnates for service in war and for attendance in parliament did contribute substantially to the development of a real peerage in the fourteenth century. No single principle of selection can be identified. An analysis of the summonses to parliament between 1295 and 1297 shows a predominance of men from the Welsh and Scotch borders, but there was no consistency in the number or status of those summoned. Later, the list of men individually summoned for service in Scotland in 1299 was used as a basis for subsequent parliamentary writs of summons. The process has with some justification been described as ‘slap-dash’: one man who died in 1300 was summoned to parliament in 1304. Despite the undeniably haphazard element in selection, there is no doubt that the king wished to be advised in parliament by those who served him best in war. By the closing years of the reign a standard list had evolved of those entitled to individual summonses. The stage was set for the emergence of the parliamentary peerage of the fourteenth century.[1026]

  The methods of summoning the rest of the cavalry for war, and of consulting the shire and borough representatives in parliament, did not have so clear an effect on the process of social stratification. The use of distraint of knighthood, combined with the conscious glorification of knightly status in such ceremonies as the Round Tables and the Feast of the Swans doubtless helped to slow the decline in the number of knights in the country. But Edward’s attempts to impose an obligation to perform military service on all possessing land of a specific value, irrespective of whether they were knights or not, marked a stage in the process by which the squires came to play an increasingly important rôle in society and in government. However, resistance to his plans meant that the class of forty-librate men did not come to form a clearly-defined, distinct social group. The increasingly regular attendance of representatives in parliament was not so much a means of increasing the prominence of the class of ‘country gentry’ as a recognition of their standing and importance in local administration. It was also a reflection of the king’s need for money, as substantial direct taxes could only be obtained by consent.

  It is hard to estimate what impact the mobilization of infantry forces had on the country. In a year such as 1298, it seems that some five per cent of the adult male population was probably called to arms, and in view of the policy of recruiting in certain areas only, the drain on manpower in the northern counties and in Wales must have been much greater than this figure. But England at this time was not an underpopulated country, and by harvest time, when all available labour was needed o
n the land, the majority of soldiers had normally returned from campaign. It has been suggested that serving in war provided an alternative to ‘starving in the village’,[1027] but in view of the abundant evidence that men were prepared to pay substantial bribes to avoid service, and given their propensity to desert once recruited, this seems unlikely. The financial burden on a village of buying equipment and paying the expenses of the recruits going to the muster must have outweighed any possible benefits from wages brought back by soldiers returning from campaign.

  Did royal financial policy have any significant social and economic results? It appears that the great ecclesiastical foundations were harder hit by taxation than lay landlords. This was only to be expected, as they did not contribute directly to the war effort in the way that the secular magnates did. Although the level of taxation was remarkably high, particularly in the later years of the reign, there is no evidence to suggest that through taxes any general redistribution of national wealth took place. It was, of course, a principle of the taxation on moveables that men should not be taxed on those goods which they needed for the maintenance of their position in society. The system of heavy export duties on wool, with light ones on cloth, was ultimately to be of great importance in transforming the pattern of English trade, but that this would happen was hardly evident in the reign of Edward I. Nor did the heavier customs dues paid by the alien merchants after 1303 have any results as yet. The government’s reliance on the Italian merchants as providers of credit facilities did no more than recognize the rôle that these merchants had come to take in English mercantile finance, but it did also of course preclude the emergence of native-born government financiers like Richard Lyons and the de la Pole family who came to prominence in the reign of Edward III.