In tracing the history and the result of these two struggles, it is of great importance to remark at the outset that Edward had reigned for a quarter of a century before any controversy on either of these points broke out. From 1272 to 1297 had the king held the sceptre, usually meeting his parliament twice or thrice in each year, and during all that time not a syllable had been heard either of any burdensome “prise or talliage,” or of any desire for “new perambulations.” In fact, the real and primary authors of all his troubles, during the last ten years of his life, were Philip of France abroad, and the restless and crafty Winchelsey at home. Until disturbed and molested by these two men, Edward had been able so to conduct his affairs as to leave his subjects almost free from taxation; and during all these five‐and‐twenty years we hear no complaint, either of any infringement of the charters, or of any mismanagement of the royal demesnes. This long period of peace and contentment was terminated at last by Philip’s seizure of Gascony, and by Winchelsey’s attempt to gain for the church an exemption from taxation.
No one, surely, will for a moment deny that Edward was wholly blameless in both these quarrels. To have patiently or sluggishly submitted to the treachery and fraud practised by Philip, would at once have removed Edward’s name from the highest place among English kings, and would have degraded it to almost the lowest. He had no choice in this matter but between resistance or dishonour. Equally certain is it that the immunity claimed by the pope and the primate for the clergy in the matter of taxation, was a pretension utterly untenable and unjust, and one which the king was bound to resist.
But while Edward thus felt himself “thrice armed” in “having his quarrel just,” he often found himself beset by difficulties through the deficiency of his accustomed supplies. Hence he was driven by dire necessity to some of those extreme measures which dictators, in any great peril of the state, often feel themselves compelled to use.
And thus arose that kind of opportunity which often produces “patriots.” Two of the great nobles, Hereford and Norfolk, evidently disliked the war. They would not go to Gascony without the king; they would not go to Flanders with the king. In what way they would have preserved the honour of England under Philip’s fraudulent aggression has never been explained. They contented themselves with finding fault and raising difficulties. In their remonstrance presented to the king just before his departure for Flanders, they complain of the burdensome taxation to which they had recently been subjected. They also add in one brief and vague sentence an allegation, “that the charter of forests is also violated by the king’s officers;” but no demand for a perambulation or any other remedy is advanced by them. The first of these two complaints was admitted, and the remedy applied that same autumn by a fresh grant or confirmation of Magna Charta, with a new clause prohibiting the arbitrary levy of “prises or talliages” without consent of parliament; and so ended that part of the controversy. But the remaining clause in their petition, which opened in the vaguest way the question of the forests, was left for future discussion. The earls had not preferred any definite request or demand.
Such a question, however, when once mooted was not very likely to sink into forgetfulness, for it concerned the possession of property—the right to large landed estates. The “earl” of a county was, in some sense, the proprietor of that county, or, at least, somewhat more than the nominal lord of it. And a royal forest situate within it was just so much taken from the earl’s estates; and hence, if in any way he could reduce the limits of the forest, he added thereby and to the same extent to his own territory.
Hereford and Norfolk had already dared the king’s anger once or twice, and had suffered nothing by their audacity; and now, whether prompted merely by their own obvious interests or advised by Winchelsey, who seems to have been always their counsellor, they boldly demanded “a new perambulation.”
For five‐and‐twenty years, as we have already seen, had Edward reigned, without a complaint having been made with reference to the royal forests. It is only in 1297 that the first murmur reaches him, that “the charter of forests is violated by the king’s officers.” He is then just embarking for Flanders; but so far from slighting or disregarding this complaint, on his return, in 1298, he issues a commission to the earl of Lincoln, the earl Warenne, the bishop of London, the bishop of Lichfield, Robert Fitzwalter and William le Latimer, “to enquire into all prises, trespasses, and oppressions committed by the officers of the forests.” No backwardness, then, can be charged against Edward in his mode of dealing with this question.
But a “redress of grievances,” though at first put forward as their object, was not the real object at which the two earls were now aiming. In 1299 and in 1300, parliaments were held in London, and in each year the demand put forward is for “a new perambulation” and a “disafforesting.” This was a new move in advance—a direct aggression. The only object that a “perambulation” could have, clearly was, to take something from the royal forests. If it did not mean this, it meant nothing.
Now this was assailing the king in a manner most disagreeable to his feelings. As we have already seen, he was jealous of any encroachments on the rights of the crown, and held it to be his duty sedulously to preserve those rights from any diminution. He had never been charged with any attempt to encroach upon others; yet now an attempt was made to encroach upon him. For the principle adopted was, “that all additions made to the forests since the coronation of Henry II., should now be disafforested.” Thus domains which had been in the possession of the crown for nearly one hundred and fifty years might now be taken away.
“The royal forests were part of demesnes of the crown. They were not included in the territorial divisions of the kingdom, civil or ecclesiastical; nor governed by the ordinary courts of law; but were set apart for the recreation and diversion of the king.” And this kind of recreation was the favourite occupation of Edward’s leisure hours. He engaged in it with all the ardour of a naturally impetuous mind. On one occasion we read of “the great hunt in Inglewood forest, in which two hundred deer were killed;” on another, of his horse’s falling dead under him; and in a variety of ways we are made aware of his especial fondness for this diversion. Hence, on every ground, as an aggression on the domains of the crown, even after a century of quiet possession; and as an attempt to interfere with his own private recreations, Edward felt disposed to dislike and reject this proposal.