Edward, however, was pre‐eminently a man of order and of respect for law. He therefore began by leaving no doubt as to this part of the case. He at once told them, without the least reserve or delay, by the mouth of Roger Brabazon, his chief justiciary, “that the disturbances which had arisen, in consequence of the late king’s death, were grievous to him, and that, in consequence thereof, and for the restoration of peace, he had travelled a great distance, in order, as lord paramount, to do justice to all.” And first, he asked them, in the most distinct manner, whether they heartily recognized him as lord paramount of the kingdom of Scotland?
This was, unquestionably, the most frank and open way of proceeding, and it was also rendered necessary by the position of the question. It would have been manifestly absurd for the king to have undertaken the decision of the controversy, without first having it distinctly settled and understood in what capacity or character he was acting.
Edward here advanced no new pretensions. The English claim for centuries had been the same—a claim always advanced when England had a powerful sovereign, though often carelessly abandoned when she had a weak or worthless one. Thus, in 1189, the two kingdoms came into violent collision, and, after a great defeat, William the Lion of Scotland consented to make peace on the following terms:—
“William was to become the liegeman of his lord the king Henry, for Scotland, Galloway, and all his other lands, and to perform fealty to his liege lord in the same way as other vassals. His brother, his barons, his clergy, and all his other vassals, were to become the liegemen of the English crown, acknowledging that they held their lands of the English king, and swearing to support him, their liege lord, against the king of Scotland, if the latter ever failed in his fidelity.”[47]
And yet, not many years after, Richard I. of England, caring much more for Palestine than for Scotland, easily relinquished this fealty. Thus was it always. England, having many records of Scottish homage, always claimed it when she was strong, but easily relinquished it when she was weak, or had some other quarrel on her hands.
Was it, then, noble or generous in Edward to seize this opportunity of Scotland’s greatest weakness to assert this obnoxious claim? This is a question which may deserve a moment’s consideration.
In affairs of state, questions will sometimes arise which require to be handled with reference not to feelings or sentiments, but to the general utility. Spain might say to England now, “Is it kind or generous in you to retain possession of a corner of Spain, merely because the fortune of war gave it to you a century ago?” But before England evacuated Gibraltar, her sovereign and government would feel bound to consider the matter, not in the light of sentiment, but with a view to the general good of the English realm and people. And so with Edward in that day. He had been called to the banks of the Tweed in May, 1291, not by any occasion or desire of his own, but by the urgent need of Scotland. Placed in that position, he must act, he felt, with a constant eye to England’s good. Not aggressively, but firmly maintaining that same position which, nearly twenty years before, like former English kings, he had asserted to be England’s right.
The superiority which he claimed, was no vain or ostentatious pre‐eminence. It was a thing of vast importance to England; while to Scotland itself, though resisted, it was a positive good. The object sought was, that this island of Britain should be at peace with itself—should be preserved from intestine dissensions. If the king of England was really the lord paramount, then the king of Scotland, paying fealty to him, was bound to be always on his side, and thus war between the two was precluded. But if, as the Scots were fond of maintaining, the two kingdoms were wholly independent of each other, then the smaller might, whenever it pleased, make war upon the larger. And hence it was always found, that whenever France quarrelled with England, she sent to Scotland, and persuaded the Scottish king to take part in the contention. And thus this island of Britain, instead of being, as at present, united and strong, was frequently divided against itself, the northern part attacking the south, and inflicting heavy injuries upon it. It was this state of disunion which Edward tried to terminate, as he had previously tried in Wales. To both he said: “Pay to me that homage which you owe; vow to be my true man against all enemies. Pay this vow and keep it; so will this island know no more internal contention.” Had Llewellyn of Wales and Baliol of Scotland, making this vow, “kept their covenant,” neither of them would ever have been disturbed in his seat by the covenant‐keeping king of England.
Edward met the assembled lords of Scotland, then, and began by plainly avowing the position in which he deemed himself to stand. He had invented no new claim; he asserted no right, now, which he had not asserted many years before. To justify his position he had desired his law‐officers to gather from the records of the kingdom, proofs that his claim was neither new nor destitute of foundation. A collection of these proofs was now presented to the Scottish lords, going back to the days of Edward the Elder, the son of Alfred. Many of the instances alleged were merely incidental:—that England’s leave was asked before Scotland did this or that. But some more positive testimonies were on record.
Going back as far as to the times of Athelstan, A.D. 926, Roger de Hoveden, and William of Malmesbury, and Henry of Huntingdon, describe the king’s victory over Constantine, king of the Scots, and how Constantine submitted and swore fealty to him. In Edred’s reign, say William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon, the Scots were again defeated, and again made to take the oath.