This last check was the death-blow of Louis's cause in England. On the 11th of September, 1217, a treaty of peace was signed at Lambeth, granting easy conditions to the French prince, and a full pardon to his English adherents. The Protector had no other desire than to put an end to the struggle and to see England delivered from the foreigners; in spite of its prolonged resistance the city of London even obtained a confirmation of its privileges. Louis set sail in the middle of September, and his more distinguished partisans were kindly received at King Henry's court; Magna Charta was again confirmed, not, however, without some modifications favorable to the royal prerogative; the clauses relating to the protection of the forests were included in a special charter called the "Forest Charter," which rendered less severe the Norman legislation as to hunting and the edicts which related to it. The wisdom and moderation of Pembroke prevailed in the councils; the Queen-mother, Isabel, had fled from England in the midst of the confusion, and her first husband, the Count of Marche, had just been solemnly remarried to her; the legate remained with the young prince, and was instructed by the Pope to look after the interests of the vassal of the Church as well as those of the Suzerain mistress of England. Order seemed to have been re-established, when the Protector died (May, 1219), and the power which was afterwards divided between Hubert de Burgh and Pierre des Roches, bishop of Winchester, became a bone of contention to the rivals and the barons attached to either party. Habits of insubordination, which had been developed during the long struggle against arbitrary power, had borne their fruit. England was rent asunder by internal quarrels which it was not even hoped would end on the king's attaining his majority, for Henry III. grew up without becoming a man. Absorbed in the love of luxury and pageantry, in the songs of minstrels and the masterpieces of the sculptors or of the artists with whom he loved to surround himself, he appeared to take no interest in his affairs, and displayed no war-like inclinations, but left the barons to quarrel among themselves and the Italian priests to devour the substance of his kingdom, without manifesting any desire to find a remedy. France was suffering from the evils of a minority. Louis VII., who had succeeded Philip-Augustus in 1223, had reigned but a short time, and Louis IX. was not sixteen years of age when, in 1230, the King of England, who was of age two years before, made a raid on Brittany at the instigation of some noblemen of Normandy, Brittany, and Poitou. But Blanche of Castile possessed a more vigorous spirit and a stronger arm than King Henry III.; she herself led her son to the war, and, in spite of the turbulency of the French barons, who were always eager to shake off their yoke, she saw her efforts crowned with success. Several towns belonging to the King of England opened their gates to her, while King Henry was losing time and wasting his resources on fêtes and tournaments at Nantes. He started back for England in the month of October, deeply humiliated, leaving his ally, the Duke of Brittany, at the foot of the throne of Louis IX., who granted him the pardon which he had humbly solicited with a rope round his neck. The Parliament (this Norman name was beginning to be used) which was convoked at Henry's return, refused to grant any subsidies, alleging that, thanks to the folly and imprudence of the king, his barons were no richer than himself.

Hubert de Burgh had for some years past triumphed over his rival, Pierre des Roches, who was obliged to retire into private life; but the ill success of the expedition to France had ended by causing a feeling against the minister among many of the nobility, who were jealous of his power. Pierre des Roches reappeared at the court, and soon afterwards formal accusations were made against Hubert, most of them frivolous, and attesting nothing but his fidelity to his king, whom he had served and defended during so many years. But Henry III. was not in a position to protect his friend, and would scarcely recognize him; he was prejudiced against Hubert, who took refuge at Merton Abbey. The king had ordered that he should be arrested there; but the Archbishop of Dublin reminded him of the privilege of sanctuary and obtained a passport, which authorized the fallen minister to retire to his residence and prepare his defence. On the faith of this promise Hubert de Burgh set out to meet his wife, the King of Scotland's sister, at Bury St. Edmunds; but he was attacked on the way by a band of armed men sent by the king. Hubert was in bed at the time; but fled half-naked into the parish church, and, seizing in one hand the crucifix and in the other the host, he awaited his enemies upon the steps of the altar. He was dragged into the churchyard, and on the refusal of a blacksmith, who declared that he would rather die than chain down the defender of Dover Castle, was tied to a horse and conducted to the Tower of London. The violation of the consecrated spot, however, excited the public indignation to such a degree that the king found himself obliged to send his prisoner to Brentwood church, which he caused to be surrounded by palings and trenches, thus compelling Hubert to give himself up voluntarily. Having been again imprisoned in the Tower, the earl was deprived of all his property and afterwards languished for one year in the Castle of Devizes. He contrived to escape, and, having been rescued by his friends at the very moment when his enemies were upon him, he regained a certain amount of power; but he no longer aspired to the dangerous position of prime minister, which his rival, Pierre des Roches, had lost in consequence of his manœuvres and excesses. Being satisfied with the recovery of his liberty and a portion of his property, Hubert left the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Edmund Rich, in undisturbed possession of the supreme authority. This prelate, like his predecessor Stephen Langton, was a patriotic statesman, who contrived for the moment to conquer, by his good sense and wisdom, the aversion which the king manifested towards charters, and the restlessness of the barons, who were always inclined to maintain by force of arms the privileges which they had gained with so much difficulty.

A fresh element of discord had sprung up between the king and his people. Henry had married in 1236 Eleanor of Provence, sister of Margaret, wife of Louis IX., King of France. A large number of Gascons and Provençals had followed her to the court; the queen was accompanied by four uncles, young brothers of her mother, the Princess of Savoy. The king immediately conceived a firm friendship for them; the Bishop of Valence became prime minister; his brother Boniface was promoted to the archbishopric of Canterbury, which Edmund Rich had abandoned, weary and disgusted, to retire into a monastery; and the two other brothers were also provided for. Even this was not sufficient; the Queen-mother, now Countess of Marche, sent to the court of England the four sons whom she had borne to Hugh de Lusignan, and the wealth and honors which the king lavished on the brothers attracted towards them a large number of adventurers. The king found himself without money; all the ecclesiastical benefices were reserved for Italians, by virtue of the Pope's authority over the country. Parliament always insisted on the departure of the strangers as a condition of granting subsidies; but the king, immediately on obtaining the money, forgot his promises, and even his oaths, and his frivolous followers laughed at Magna Charta and the importance which the barons attached to it. "What are the English laws to us?" they would ask.

By these laws the king was compelled to ask his people for the means, which he wasted so foolishly on feasts and extravagance. Each day the Parliament became more reluctant to grant them. The Queen-mother, offended, she said, by the Countess of Poitou, sister-in-law of Louis IX., urged her son to declare war with France, assuring him that the old vassals of his house were eager to gather round his standard. The English barons refused the necessary subsidies, saying that the truce agreed to between the two kingdoms still remained in force. Henry was not of a warlike disposition; but his mother was importunate; he raised some money, and set sail for France with three hundred knights. A certain number of malcontents soon joined him, commanded by the Count of Marche, whom his wife sent to the war, as she had already sent her son. King Louis IX. had taken the field with forces superior to those of the English. The two young monarchs met near the castle of Taillebourg, in Saintonge, on the banks of the Charente. Louis, at the head of his forces, attacked the bridge defended by the English troops, and for a moment withstood almost unaided their united efforts. His signal courage gained the day; the bridge was taken, the English were routed, and the King of England escaped in company with his brother, to whom he owed his safety. The two brothers took refuge in Saintes. A second battle was fought on the morrow, under the walls of the town, and the English were again defeated. The Count of Marche surrendered, and King Henry, flying across Saintonge, embarked at Blaye, leaving the decorations of his chapel and the money remaining in his coffers in the hands of the enemy. It was to the moderation of King Louis IX. and to the scruples of his sensitive conscience that the English were indebted for a truce of five years.

The barons, humiliated and disgraced, although they had not been engaged in the quarrel with France, claimed the right of nominating the chief justicier, the chancellor, and several other officers of the crown. The king refused, and the Parliament only allowed him what was strictly necessary on the occasion of the marriage of his eldest daughter to the King of Scotland. Henry had conceived a hatred of parliaments. In order to manage without them he had recourse to every expedient by which he could raise money; he exacted enormous fines, tortured the Jews, and begged presents of all his vassals. "God gave us this child, but the king sold him to us," said a wag at the birth of one of the princes. Henry even, on one occasion, sold a portion of the royal table-plate. He was advised to sell everything, but the difficulty was to find buyers. "The citizens of London will buy anything," cried the king bitterly. "By my faith! if the treasures of Augustus were for sale, the citizens would make the purchase. These villains live like barons, while we are in want of the principal necessaries of life." The king detested the city of London, but he levied as many taxes as possible upon its inhabitants, instructing the persons of his household to obtain all the things necessary for his entertainments without paying for them, and continually claiming gifts under the most frivolous pretexts from the citizens. In 1253, King Henry had come to an end of all his resources and expedients. He was compelled to convoke a Parliament, declaring that he was anxious to assume the cross, and go and deliver the tomb of Jesus Christ from the hands of the infidels. The barons had often seen this pious pretext made use of, and were not to be deceived by it; they were, besides, accustomed in private life, to hear the same determination announced, in order to set aside the most solemn obligations. Before making any grant, they exacted a new and solemn ratification of their liberties. On the 3rd of May the king proceeded to Westminster Hall; the barons were assembled there, and all the bishops were standing with tapers in their hands. They offered one to the king. "I am not a priest," he said, and refused it. The Archbishop of Canterbury stepped forward, and uttered the sentence of excommunication against all those who should either directly or indirectly violate the charters of the kingdom. As he finished speaking, all the prelates threw aside their tapers, which were extinguished at their feet, and the priests cried: "May the soul of him who may incur this sentence be extinguished in a like manner in hell." The king, uplifting his hand, uttered this oath: "May God help me to preserve intact all these charters, as I am a Christian, as I am a knight, and as I am a king, anointed and crowned." Scarcely had he received the subsidies, when he started on an expedition to Guienne, which was threatened by the intrigues of Alphonse, king of Castile. The quarrel was soon settled, and a marriage decided upon between Prince Edward, Henry's elder brother, and Princess Eleanor, daughter of Alphonse. But the king kept this happy consummation secret, in order to obtain fresh subsidies from his English subjects, under the pretence of continuing the war. He only came back to England when he found himself, as usual, reduced to beggary.

The king's want of political foresight was as conspicuous as his prodigality and weakness. The King of Sicily, Frederick II., had been dead some time (1250). He had been excommunicated, and Pope Innocent IV. had claimed his kingdom as a fief of the Holy See. Frederic's son. Prince Conrad, supported generally by the people, was resisting this pretension by force of arms, and the Pope was casting about for a foreign prince who might be disposed to take up the quarrel. He offered the crown of Sicily to Richard, brother of the King of England, whose immense fortune, derived from the Cornish mines, rendered him more powerful even than King Henry himself; but he refused the tempting bait, although he was quite ready to be seduced, some months later, by the hope of gaining possession of the empire. The Pope then offered the kingdom of Sicily to the King of England for his second son Edmund, and the monarch joyfully accepted the offer, without troubling himself about the demands of his subjects or the state of his finances. The Pope was borrowing of the Lombards and the Venetians, and raising troops in his name; but the Holy See was a hard and urgent creditor. Innocent IV. soon demanded back the money which he had spent, and ordered the English clergy to lend the necessary funds to the king. The clergy refused; the king levied enormous taxes on the abbeys and churches. The legate sent to England to recover the money encountered on all sides the most violent opposition. "I would rather die than pay so much money," said the Bishop of Worcester. "The king and the Pope are stronger than we," said the Bishop of London; "but if I am deprived of my mitre, I shall be able to wear a helmet." The legate returned, convinced that a storm was about to burst over England.

It was on the 2nd of May, 1258; famine reigned throughout the kingdom. Henry III. had been reduced to the necessity of convoking Parliament. When he entered Westminster Hall, the barons were awaiting him there, clad in their armor. On hearing the clanking of arms at his arrival, the king suddenly turned pale. "Am I a prisoner?" he said nervously. "No," said Roger Bigod, earl of Norfolk; "but your foreign favorites and your own extravagance have reduced the country to such an abject state of misery, that we demand that the power may for the future be vested in a committee of bishops and barons, in order that they may root out all the abuses, and make good laws for us." One of the Lusignans began to protest. The king agreed, without any reservation, to the demands of the barons, who promised, in return, to help him pay his debts, and to support the pretensions of his son in Italy, provided that he would give proofs of his sincerity at the reassembling of Parliament, which was to be convoked at Oxford.

King Henry And His Barons.