Thus both these writers, and with them a multitude of smaller note, agree in describing Edward as a man of ambition, a man covetous of his neighbour’s possessions, a conqueror, “perpetually plotting” against the safety of others. Now, our quarrel with this view is not merely that it is inaccurate or imperfect, but that it is diametrically opposed to all the principal facts of the case, calling white black and black white, and representing a sovereign as ambitious and unscrupulous, whose real character was that he was scrupulously conscientious;—“as careful in performing his obligations as in exacting his rights,”[34] or, again, to cite the old chronicler,
“Slowe to all manner of strife;
Discreet and wise, and true of his worde.”
Such writers as those we have cited place before their readers a king who, from his very accession, coveted and “plotted against” both Wales and Scotland. To this we oppose the indubitable facts, that when Llewellyn withheld his homage, Edward, instead of proceeding to extremities, was patient and forbearing, sent him summons after summons, offered to go to Shrewsbury or to Chester to meet him, and waited, in all, two whole years before he took up arms. And, again, that when Llewellyn was reduced to extremities, and might have been banished and Wales annexed, Edward granted him peace the moment he asked it, replaced him in his seat, attended his marriage, and did all he could to make him his friend. The war which led to Llewellyn’s chance‐medley death, and to the annexation, was a war made by Llewellyn and David, not by the English king.
As for Scotland, the conquest of which is placed in the fore‐front of Edward’s ambitious designs, it is surely enough to say that he ascended the throne in 1272, and that during more than eighteen years he never stirred one step or moved a finger against the honour and independence of Scotland. In 1290 the Scottish throne became vacant, and he was clamorously besought, for years, by all the chief men in Scotland to interfere. Yet, instead of seizing the opportunity, he stood aloof, went, at last, cautiously into the question, and in November, 1292, adjudged the throne to Baliol.
Four more years elapsed without the slightest move on Edward’s part against Scotland. But in 1296, the twenty‐fourth year of Edward’s reign, the Scotch joined with his enemy, the king of France, and invaded England. And then, and not before, being in his fifty‐seventh year, did the king enter Scotland, a country which, we are now assured, he had been coveting and “plotting against” for a whole quarter of a century. We say, then, once more, that these constant representations of Edward, which we find in a multitude of historians, great and small, exhibiting him as an ambitious man, a conqueror, a “designing man,” constantly “plotting against the safety of his neighbours,” constitute, on the whole, one of the most extraordinary instances of literary injustice and wrong that is to be found in all British history.
Let us look for a moment at the actual results, the real facts, of these eighteen years. Surely a period of this length, extending from the thirty‐third to the fifty‐first year of Edward’s life, might be expected to show his real character, the true bent of his mind. A conqueror, an ambitious man, is not likely to waste the whole prime of his life in peaceful inactivity, and only to exhibit his cupidity and unscrupulousness when grey hairs were beginning to show themselves. The victors of Crécy and of Agincourt followed no such course. What Edward really was, he showed in these eighteen years. The conquest of Wales, the only interruption of an otherwise peaceful course, was, as we have shown, forced upon him. He had no choice in the matter. The Welsh princes would not have peace. But, with this one exception, what was the character of this protracted period—the whole prime of Edward’s life?
It was that of constant, careful, sedulous improvement. No department of the government was exempt from his thoughtful scrutiny. The revenues of the crown were carefully examined, and their economical employment provided for. In place of “seizures” for the king’s use, we now find “purchases.” The household expenses were placed on a proper footing. The king could exhibit royal splendour when public occasions called for it; but the general rule of his expenditure was that of frugality. A modern writer observes, that “his household as king was both well‐regulated and economical. We have a record of his expenses while residing at Langley, Bucks, in Lent, 1290.” This, of course, was not a season of festivity; but we find that “in the first week his expenses were £7 10s. 4½d; in the second, £5 19s. 0½d.; and in the third, £5 12s. 2½d.[35] Now, bearing in mind the habits and usages of that time,[36] when the regulated price of a lamb was sixpence, and of a goose, fourpence, we shall see at a glance that this expenditure for a king, in retirement during the season of Lent, was both liberal and economical. It contrasts forcibly with the reckless extravagance of his father Henry, and of his still more wasteful son, the second Edward. Henry, after his royal festivities at Bourdeaux and Paris in 1254, returned home burdened with debts, which he himself described as “horrible to think of.” And the younger Edward, when just commencing life, seems to have been accustomed to spend as much daily as we have just seen his father spend weekly! We have a record of his household expenses for three days in 1293, when he was staying in a country residence. On Thursday his expenses amounted to £7 4s. 5d., on Friday, to £6 8s. 1d., and on Saturday, to £6 4s.; being at the rate of about £46 per week. The expenditure of his household in that year amounted to £3,846 7s. 6d., which at the present rate of money would be equal to more than £50,000 per annum. That such habits in youth should lead to a reign of discomfort, closing on dishonour, is not to be wondered at.
Edward I., however, though economical, was no lover of money. On fitting occasions his expenditure was royal. His coronation banquet was one of unusual splendour and liberality. His Round Table celebrations must have been very costly. Fond of hunting, his stables must have occasioned a considerable outlay. His presents were magnificent, his charities were very large. The entries under this head, in his “Wardrobe Accounts,” were numerous, and must have reached an aggregate, in each year, of large amount. One of the chronicles of the day makes this brief allusion to his charities:—
“King Edward, turning aside to the northern parts, celebrated Easter at Newcastle, where he distributed great abundance of oblations in the monasteries, and gave large alms to the people; insomuch that many men not poor did not blush to pretend themselves so, being allured by so great a liberality.”[37]