Two earlier dates have been assigned for this great epoch; but that which is now before us may on some grounds claim the preference. Simon de Montfort, in 1265, while he held both Henry and prince Edward in his custody, summoned a kind of parliament or assembly in Westminster, to sanction some of his transactions with the king; and to this parliament he called a portion of the barons—i.e., those of his own party—some knights, and the representatives of certain borough towns. But this whole transaction was regarded, as Hume remarks, as “the act of a violent usurpation;” and no one ever dreamed in after years of treating it as a precedent.
Nearly twenty years had passed away, when Edward himself, in 1283, not wishing to determine arbitrarily the fate of David of Snowdon, called to Shrewsbury not only the barons and the knights, but also representatives from several of the larger towns; and before these representatives he placed not only the case of David, but also the great “Statute of Merchants”—the first English law, probably, to which the assent of any regularly‐appointed borough representatives was ever asked or desired.
But, in the present case, a new cause for this appeal to the people was apparent. A national peril, an exigency affecting the whole realm, had shown itself, and Edward, with his characteristic manliness, resolved to place it frankly before his people, and to ask their aid in a matter in which, as he told them, “all were equally concerned.” The writs convening this parliament of November, 1295, must be taken to speak the very language of Edward’s own noble mind.[69] Those writs commence as follows: “As the rule of justice teaches us that what concerns all should be by all approved, so, it also indicates that common perils should be met by remedies provided in common.” The dangers to which the realm was exposed are then set forth, and the writ concludes: “Seeing, therefore, that your welfare, as well as that of the whole realm, is concerned, we charge you, on your loyalty and attachment to us, that on the day after the feast of St. Martin, you do attend,” etc.
These writs were addressed not only to the nobles, the prelates, and the knights or lesser barons, but also to the sheriffs or bailiffs of about one hundred and twenty cities and towns. Each sheriff was directed “to cause to be elected of his county, two knights, and of each city in their county, two burgesses.” And these were to meet, for the first time in the annals of England, “to provide against the dangers which threatened the kingdom;” and they were to be invested “with power from the communitates to do what the matter should require.”
On this 27th of November, 1295, accordingly, the outline sketched at Shrewsbury in 1283 was filled up, and there met, for the first time, a parliament like that of our own day;—a parliament “the archetype of all the representative assemblies which now meet, either in the old world or in the new.”[70] And, not unnaturally, the burgesses, now for the first time consulted on an emergency of the state, met the king’s appeals and requests with even more warmth and liberality than either of the other sections of the parliament. The clergy granted to the king a tenth; the barons and knights an eleventh; but the burgesses gave him, without hesitation, a seventh. Such was the cordial response given to Edward by his people, on his frank appeal to them for support, in this, one of the great emergencies of his reign.
These “aids” granted to the king in the last month of 1295, enabled him to prepare with vigour for the important business of the following spring. To Gascony, as we have seen, he had despatched a considerable force. The coasts of Kent and Sussex had shown themselves, for two years past, able to cope with all the power of Normandy. The chief point of disquietude, therefore, was in the north. Invasions of the northern counties by Scottish armies had been seen in former reigns; and Edward had received full notice that such a step had been resolved upon by the faction which now bore sway in Scotland.
To wait in London until the Scotch had ravaged Cumberland, would not have been the course of a statesman or of a general. Whether as friend or foe, Edward was always prompt, frank, and outspoken. He directed a parliament to be summoned to meet at Newcastle on the 1st of March, 1296, and to this parliament the Comyns, Baliols, Bruces, and other Scottish leaders would, as English barons, naturally receive summonses. Baliol, especially, not only as an English baron, but also as the chief vassal of the crown, was called to this meeting, there to perform his oath, sworn at that same Newcastle only three years and three months before, in which oath he had pledged his “faith and loyalty” to stand by Edward and his successors on the throne of England, “against all men that may live or die.” Edward, as his manner was, would take care to proceed with strict regularity. But he could not feel any doubt that it was a campaign rather than a parliament that he was about to open; and he had made his arrangements accordingly.
Mr. Tytler tells us, of 1295, that “to Bruce, son of the competitor for the crown, Edward affected uncommon friendship; regretted his decision in favour of the now rebellious Baliol, and declared his determination to place him on the throne.” And, in 1296, that “Bruce reminded him of his promise to place him on the throne.” “Have I nothing to do?” said the haughty monarch, “but to conquer kingdoms for you?” Here is an important statement, which represents Edward as false and deceitful. But when did it first see the light? In Fordun, and in Bower’s history, which appeared some time after 1440, or nearly one hundred and fifty years after the period referred to! It is no wonder, then, that Hume passes it over in silence, or that sir Walter Scott reduces it to this: “Bruce, after the victory of Dunbar, conceived his turn of triumph was approaching, and hinted to Edward his hope,” etc.
The object of Fordun, as of the other Scottish historians, was to make out some legal right or title for Bruce. In order to do this, they scruple not to invent. Thus, as we have already seen, they tell us that, before the arbitration was decided, Edward offered to decide in favour of Bruce if he would own him as his superior lord, and that Bruce refused to do so. Whereas we know, from documents which are still extant, that Bruce had at that very time actually applied to Edward as his superior lord!
The present fiction is refuted by many well‐known facts. Had Edward deceived and disappointed this Bruce (the son of the competitor), it must have followed that the party so deceived would have become bitterly hostile. Instead of which, we immediately find this very Bruce employed by Edward, as “his dear and trusty friend,” to receive to his peace the inhabitants of Annandale; and three times after this does Mr. Tytler distinctly recognize this Bruce as being always loyal and faithful to Edward; a thing most improbable, if he had been—as represented by Fordun a century after—grossly deceived and wronged by the king.