READING HALLTHIRD MILLENNIUM LIBRARY |
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THE LIFE OF SIMON DE MONTFORT . EARL OF LEICESTER
CHAPTER XI.
THE LAST YEAR.
Simultaneously with the formation of a scheme of
government in June 1264, the first three electors were appointed, and received
the royal authority to select the nine councillors,
and to carry on the government. The electors were the Earls of Leicester and
Gloucester, and the Bishop of Chichester. Who the councillors were, or whether they were chosen in Parliament, we do not know. Their names do
not appear till next year as authorising any writ,
and it is possible that the danger of invasion and the disturbances on the
Marches prevented the immediate execution of the scheme. The queen assembled in
the course of the summer a large army on the coasts of Flanders, apparently
with the countenance, if not the active aid, of the King of France. This army,
composed of the most heterogeneous materials, and commanded by those who had
escaped from Lewes, only waited for a favourable breeze to cross over to England. The danger was very great, and Simon made
efforts to meet it, as strenuous as those made three hundred years later to
ward off a similar peril. Fortunately the wind continued unfavourable,
or rather, as Mr. Freeman says, the nation held firm, and the motley array of
troops lingered in vain until with the approach of winter it melted away. For
Simon had not trusted in the wind alone ; he sent the ships of the Cinque Ports
to patrol the seas, and called upon every county in England to defend the
coast. The people felt the common danger and flocked together to defend their
country. “Never would one have thought to see such a multitude”, says the
chronicler, “as was collected then on Berhamdown”.
The Clergy contributed its tithes for the same object—an object far nobler than
that for which they had so often had to drain their pockets. Diplomacy was not
neglected. Letters were written to Louis, begging him not to allow the
assembling of troops in his dominions for an attack on England, and requesting
him to send ambassadors to Boulogne to treat with others from Henry. Louis
acceded to the latter request, and did not commit himself to the policy of his
sister-in-law. With the cessation of immediate danger from abroad came leisure
for a settlement at home.
The most important business that occupied the latter
part of the summer was the execution of the engagement about arbitration
entered into at Lewes. Of the arbiters then selected, three still appeared—the
Bishop of London, the Archbishop of Rouen, and Hugh Despenser; but there was no
further mention of the papal legate, in whom Henry had trusted, in 1264 as in
1258. The other members of the court, — the Count of Anjou and the Abbot of Bee
in Normandy, as well as the archbishop, were probably well-disposed towards
Simon. The arbiters were powers of empowered to treat of all matters, except
the form of government and the retention of castles and public offices in the
hands of Englishmen, and the barons swore to abide by their decision. There is
a lack of honesty about the composition of this court which, it must be
confessed, casts some stain on the uprightness of him who doubtless appointed
it. It was a packed tribunal, and Simon can hardly have expected that the King
of France would consent to treat with such a court for the purpose of reversing
or at least modifying his former decision. Whether the exigencies of the case
can be held to excuse such a proceeding, or whether the good effects which a
unanimous decision in favour of reform would have had
on the peace of the country counterbalanced the bad impression produced by the
unfairness of the selection, is very hard to decide.
Simultaneously with the appointment of arbiters, Henry
of Almaine was released, though only on very heavy
bail given by the bishops, to further the negotiations for peace. But the papal
opposition was too strong. The legate vehemently repudiated the arrangement, as
contrary to the spirit of the Mise of Lewes, an accusation to a great extent justified
by the facts. He demanded to be allowed to enter England, but this was refused
; he summoned the English bishops before him, but they excused themselves on
the plea that the barons would not let them go, and sent proctors instead. The
legate refused to recognise the proctors, and, far
from showing any wish for reconciliation, bade them publish the papal ban
against Simon de Montfort and his followers. From the effects of this the king
and Prince Edward were specially exempted, since they were but unwilling
parties to the revolution. Whereupon the bishops appealed to the Pope, and
their appeal was supported by the whole body of the clergy in their assembly.
Clearly there was no want of unanimity between the Church and its great ally.
Nor did the people allow them to give way, for when the bishops returned with
the bull of excommunication which was to have been published in England, the
men of Dover seized it and threw it into the sea. The bishops did not oppose or
excommunicate the perpetrators of this sacrilege.
While the question of peace and arbitration was
temporarily suspended by this occurrence, and by the elevation of the legate to
the papal see as Clement IV, disturbances had broken out in the West of
England. The Marchers, who had been released after Lewes, no sooner found
themselves at home again, than they broke their plighted word. An attempt was
made by some of them to rescue Prince Edward, who was then at Wallingford, but
failed owing to the vigilance of the garrison. In their own country they speedily
found a pretext for a renewal of the war in the endless feud with the Welch,
now embittered by the fact that Llewelyn was an ally of Simon de Montfort. At
the same time the Earl of Derby came into collision with the royalists in
Chester. The alliance of this lawless baron was far more an obstacle than an
aid to the party he pretended to support. He took advantage of the unsettled
state of things to rob and plunder in all directions,
and had to be treated later as the freebooter that he was. Simon was obliged to
interrupt his peaceable settlement of affairs in order to suppress the worst of
these disturbances. He marched westward, and with the help of the Welch, who
attacked the Marchers in the rear, forced them to surrender. Sentence was
passed upon them at a council held at Oxford, towards the end of November, and
they were banished from the kingdom for a year and a day, after which they were
to return and be tried by their peers.' Yet even after these events so much
leniency was shown them that several were allowed to visit and converse with
Prince Edward, then under the care of his aunt in the impregnable stronghold of
Kenilworth.
Thus was danger apparently warded off both at home and
abroad. Tranquillity returned for a brief space to
the harassed land. Simon de Montfort reigned supreme. “All things were ordered
by him”, we are told ; “the king had but the shadow of royalty”. The earl was
not slow to avail himself of this calm in order to set about the consolidation
of the political edifice, the foundations of which had been laid in the
Parliament of June. Even the hostile barons of the North had apparently come
round. Some of those who were against the earl the previous Christmas, as Roger Bigod, were now such strong partisans as to incur
with him the papal excommunication. But the outward calm concealed many angry
feelings. The sight of a captive king, a prisoner in the hands of one who still
called himself a subject, and made a cat's-paw to further all the plans of his gaoler, could not fail to arouse sympathy even in those who
opposed Henry while in power. But, more than this, Simon was accused of cruelty
to his prisoners, of unfairness to his friends. It was said he did not divide
the confiscated property justly, but took eighteen baronies for himself, and
gave too much to his sons. It is only probable that here again Simon’s
adherence to his principles and his imperious nature made him many enemies. He
was for the time the ruler of England, and did not attempt to hide the fact.
Bitter experience had taught him the evils of a divided party ; he seems to
have thought it safer to brave the jealousy and hatred of his own side, than to
let the reins of government become loose and entangled in other hands. And he
was probably right ; it was an almost hopeless undertaking ; in this policy lay
his only chance of success.
Much of the odium he incurred was due to jealousy of
his power, perhaps still more to the folly of his allies. The men of the Cinque
Ports were accused of piracy and violence on the high seas ; the scarcity of
provisions and the high prices were attributed, probably with some reason, to
the excessive hostility they manifested towards foreigners. These charges, it
should be added, are confirmed by independent authority. There were plenty to
draw inferences very damaging to de Montfort ; it was said, as had been said
before on the occasion of the riots in London, that he received a third of the
booty. To these and the like accusations we are probably justified in giving
little credence. They were indignantly rejected by the earls friends at the
time, by the very men, that is, whom his enemies declared he injured ; there is
nothing to prove the charge, and, whatever may have been Simons faults, avarice
was certainly not one. That the plunder was taken by him and applied to the
uses of government is probable enough, and may explain the charges against him.
Moreover, if the folly and perhaps the rapacity of our mariners caused
considerable privation, the terrible confusion in which the country had been plunged
for the last seven years will account to a great extent for the decay of trade.
To remedy this Simon declared, with true insular feeling, if on mistaken
principles, that England could do without foreign merchandise. Many of his
friends, we are told, acted on his advice, and wore clothes made of undyed
wool, the produce of the country. Of all his party his own sons seem to have
done him as much mischief as any ; that this had not escaped his notice is
shown by the words he addressed to them on the morning of his death. But he
loved them only too well, and probably overlooked acts of violence and
imprudence on their part, which it would have been wiser to check with a strong
hand. The fact that Henry de Montfort acquired the nickname of the wool-merchant,
because he seized the wool which was being exported, gives a great air of
probability to these reports.
Of Simon’s own conduct towards his enemies it is,
owing to the contradictory verdicts of prejudiced chroniclers, very hard to
judge. One side declares he treated the king with the utmost indignity, while
the other says he showed him all respect. Henry was in fact a prisoner, and
that is enough of itself to account for the discrepancies between two sets of
writers, regarding the matter from opposite points of view. It was utterly
impossible to give such a king his liberty ; it was fatal to Simon’s cause that
he was obliged to keep him in confinement. Necessity will or will not excuse
his action in such matters, according to the political opinions of the judge.
It is easier to be definite on other points. As to the estates of the King of
the Romans, which had been handed, over to the earl after the battle of Lewes,
their cession can only have been regarded as temporary, a pledge for Richards
good behaviour. The same was not the case with the
castles of Chester, Newcastle, and the Peak, which had been in Prince Edward’s
hands, but were now, as places of primary importance, conferred upon the earl
and his heirs, to be held of course, like other castles, of the king. Certain
lands were given to the prince in exchange, of equal pecuniary but not
political value. The confiscation of Simon’s property after his death showed
that with this exception he had not enriched himself at the expense of others.
There is no doubt as to what he would have had to expect had he been beaten at
Lewes ; the treatment of himself, his family, and his lands after the battle of
Evesham removes all uncertainty on this head. Whether the motive was
self-interest or generosity, the policy he adopted in his hour of victory
cannot be characterised, under the circumstances, as
any other than merciful and conciliatory.
That the Church and the people remained faithful to
their champion is plainly shown by the great contemporary poem already referred
to. It begins with an elaborate defence of his
policy, both before and of Lewes. after the battle of Lewes. After a triumphant
allusion to the battle itself, the occurrences which pre- ceded it, and the joy
of England at the release from so many evils, the poem proceeds to defend Simon
from the charge of deceit and cunning. Far from it, exclaims the writer, he has
ever been true and constant, and has maintained the good cause in the teeth of
death ; he alone has kept the oath he swore. His sense of right appears in his
words to the Bishop of Chichester, who, when attempting to reconcile the two
parties, was bidden by Simon to choose arbiters from among the best and truest
men, those who knew the battle the Provisions well, and who were learned in the
law of God ; to them he would submit and so avoid perjury. He would not have
acted as he has acted, continues the poem, had he looked to his own advantage ;
he has sacrificed himself for the good of others. His is not the cunning which
intrigues for a secret object ; he fights in the sight of heaven, and gives
himself, like his master Christ, unto death for many. His cause must be favoured of God, or he could not have won the victory over
such foes. With Simon’s faith and fidelity is compared the treachery which
Edward manifested at Gloucester and elsewhere ; the prince is like the leopard,
beautiful but faithless. Had he and his won the day, England had been lost for ever ; but praise be to God who has given the earl the
victory, for his enemies are the enemies of heaven, the Church, and the
country. Such is the enthusiasm which Simon excited in men like the author of
this remarkable song of triumph, and the same strain of praise is kept up in
other songs of the time. His name of Montfort gives occasion for many allusions
to “the strong mount” to which his friends look for protection ; the feeling
towards him is nothing less than veneration.
But in spite of this support, Simon’s position with
the greater barons was daily becoming more difficult and unsatisfactory. No
sooner was the victory won than disunion began to show itself. An interesting
letter, evidently belonging to this period, the author of which calls himself
“a faithful English subject”, warns the barons of the danger to be feared from
their divisions. They are in this dilemma, says the writer. If the legate be
not admitted, the kingdom will be placed under an interdict, and the barons
excommunicated ; while if he be admitted, he will speedily overpower them.
United action is therefore indispensable. The Earl of Leicester is advised to
leave no means untried in order to keep his party together, an object which he
has endangered by injustice in giving the confiscated property of John Mansel to his son. The French king is ready to enter
England ; the Pope is urging him not to tarry. Let the barons therefore beware,
let them make alliances with Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, and carefully defend
the coasts. Lastly, they ought to choose a leader to take the place of Simon de
Montfort, in case he should die. The letter is impartial and prudent, and
appears to come from a person of authority. The danger it alludes to is that
which always thwarted Simon’s plans, disunion among his own followers, fostered
by his own arbitrary action. The warning was only too well grounded. The
majority of the greater barons maintained a policy of sullen opposition, or at
least could not be relied upon for active aid. This fact is clearly proved by
the composition of the great Parliament of January 1265, writs for which were issued
in the preceding December. The small proportion of the lay nobility summoned to
this Parliament is a disheartening proof of the difficulties with which the
earl had to contend.
The Parliament assembled about the middle of January,
but of its proceedings, and of the light in which they were regarded by the
country at large, we know next to nothing. It cannot be doubted that the
completion of peace must have been looked upon as a real blessing by the
greater part of the population, that all Englishmen must have rejoiced to see
the government in the hands of their own flesh and blood. But the great
measures, of which we have spoken above, do not appear to have had the effect
on the nation which might have been expected, and, whether from apathy or surprise,
very slight efforts were made to aid the earl when engaged in his last
struggle. The people may have thought he was safe without their aid, for the
popular belief in him, as shown in song and legend, was too strong to allow one
to think that he reaped the reward of contemporary ingratitude, which has been
the lot of so many reformers. He himself showed no sign of fear. His action in
this very Parliament of 1265 showed that he was inclined to brave all the
consequences of disaffection. So defiant was his attitude that one is forced to
blame it as at least injudicious. It was not much that the office of high
steward was now restored to him ; a far less justifiable proceeding was the
appointment of himself as justiciar. The object of this act is hard to discover,
especially as Hugh Despenser was at hand to undertake the duties he had already
twice before discharged. Such an accumulation of power was most unwise ; it was
a needless challenge to the opposition. Acts of this kind form the heaviest
indictment against the earl ; they were an imitation of the worst faults of his
enemies, and laid him open to the charge that he was aiming at a tyranny.
Whether it was that he had begun to distrust even his best friends, or, as is
more probable, that he let ambition and the sense of power get the better of
his political sense, certain it is that from this time he began to sink towards
his final fall.
The discussions in Parliament were at first
interrupted by the threat of a tournament, to be held at Dunstable, in which
the sons and partisans of de Montfort were to have met the Earl of Gloucester
and his followers. It seems to have been a challenge to the latter, and the
result would doubtless have been to fan the smouldering embers of civil war, if not to lead to actual bloodshed. Simon peremptorily
forbade the meeting, and was so annoyed that he is said to have threatened to
imprison his sons. The prohibition was however used by Gloucester as a grudge
against the earl, on the ground that all the money spent in the preparations
for the affair had been thereby wasted. It was a bad omen too when the old
imputation of foreign blood began again to be cast in Simon’s teeth. The real
cause of the growing hostility between the two chief men of the kingdom is
however said to have been the fact that Simon kept all the royal castles in his
own hands, or granted them to his sons. This proceeding placed in far too
strong a light the supremacy of Leicester, and gave the lie to the nominal
equality of the three electors. To the young Earl of Gloucester the retention
of Bristol Castle was doubtless a special source of irritation, and he is not
likely to have borne in patience an assumption of authority, which the Bishop
of Chichester, a creature of de Montfort’s had not the power, if he had the
inclination, to resist. Hampered by these difficulties and deserted by his chief
ally, Simon had to curb the insolence of his own partisans. He seized the chief
offender, the Earl of Derby, had him tried by his peers in Parliament, and
condemned him to imprisonment in the Tower. The notion of some writers that
Simon imprisoned him in order to protect him from the kings wrath is evidently
absurd. He also summoned to London his old ally and late of enemy, Hugh Bigod, with the Earl of Warenne,
William of Valence, and Peter of Savoy. They were ordered to attend as
prisoners, and to receive judgment at the hands of Parliament. It does not
appear how or when they came into de Montfort’s power, for they are said to
have escaped after the battle of Lewes ; nor are we told what punishment they
received. That they went abroad soon after this is certain, for we find them
landing with troops in May. It is therefore probable that they were at this
time banished from England. To their deadly enmity was now added the hostility
of some of Simon’s own partisans, John Giffard and
others, whom he had offended by forbidding them to demand ransom for their
prisoners, which was contrary to one of the enactments of the Mise of Lewes.
But worst of all was the breach with the Earl of Gloucester, who had now an
additional cause of complaint in a similar prohibition. So hot did the quarrel
grow that he feared, or pretended to fear, the fate of the Earl of Derby. The
split grew daily wider; in vain did the bishops use their influence to
reconcile the leaders ; the old experiment of an arbitration is said to have
been tried again in vain. De Montfort would not tolerate any resistance ;
Gloucester would not recognise the superiority of a
fellow-subject. In this very Parliament the latter gave vent to his jealousy by
accusing Simon of violating the Compromise of Lewes, of arbitrary and
tyrannical action, of aiming even at the Crown. Some of these charges may have
been correct, but the real reason of the quarrel could have escaped no one’s
notice. Between two such men a rupture was inevitable.
Meanwhile however Parliament brought its labours to a close. The session was protracted to an
unusual length. The chief business which occupied the attention of the members
was the final settlement of the terms of peace, and the confirmation of the
measures taken by Parliament in the preceding year, with the object of
releasing the king and the hostages, and setting the new government fairly in
motion. Of the debates that took place we know nothing, except that the bishops
seem to have passed some resolutions to resist the power of Rome, for which,
says a chronicler, they had to suffer afterwards; and that the Earl of
Leicester, in the course of the discussion, upbraided the magnates with their inconstancy.
Owing to the disturbing influences spoken of above, the wished-for result was
not obtained till the beginning of March. The plan of Simon’s constitution was
then accepted as it stood, and the other enactments already mentioned were
passed. The king’s formal confirmation of these acts was the sign of the
conclusion of peace^ The spirit of fairness in which Simon acted is shown by
the enactment passed with respect to the outlawry of any one opposing the new
measures, so different was it from the sweeping condemnation of such persons
forced upon the king in 1258. It was now provided that such declaration of
treason should not be made without the assent of the council and the nobles of
the land. The scheme of the constitution was probably completed at this
Parliament by the appointment of the Council of Nine. A fresh confirmation of
all existing was issued, and an oath taken by all to observe the new
arrangements. No sooner was this done than, in accordance with the terms of the
Compromise, the hostages were released ; but Edward had to promise the keep
only Englishmen near him, and not to leave England for three years. King
Richard seems already to have ransomed himself in the previous autumn by
payment of a large sum. The royal castles formerly in Edward’s keeping were
handed over to the Earl of Leicester ; a general amnesty and oblivion of all
injuries was decreed ; to call in papal intervention was declared high treason.
To these terms the king and Edward took the oath with the usual solemnities ; fresh
homage was done by those of their vassals who had been in arms against them ;
and therewith the new government was formally ushered in.
To a superficial observer the Earl of Leicester must
now have seemed at the height of his power. The land had apparently recovered
its equilibrium ; the monarchy, freed from the bondage temporarily imposed upon
it, took up the position assigned to it in the new order of things ; the author
of these changes had received the sanction of law and the popular voice. But the
anomaly of Simon’s position was thereby only made the more apparent. He was in
a hopeless dilemma. To release Henry even now was to let slip the dogs of war ;
but by keeping him in a confinement which was patent to all, though it was
called freedom, he violated the principles of his own constitution, and placed
himself in a false and untenable position. The inconsistency was too glaring to
escape any ones notice ; it was evident that Simon must fall, or the king. It
is a mournful spectacle, a high and noble spirit struggling hopelessly with
circumstances into which the principles of justice and aims however honourable, with the aid, it must be confessed, of his own
indiscretion, had thrown him, and which he was no longer able to control. Yet
it was notorious, we are told, that no one ever saw the earl in despair, or
even downcast ; he was like a mountain, strong, constant, immoveable ;
wherefore he was rightly called de Montfort. But for all that his fate was
inevitable. The man and his principles were an anachronism, and could not
survive in the political ignorance of the times.
The end is soon told. Gloucester had left London
before the close of Parliament, and had betaken himself to his own county.
There he met with the Marchers, who had lurked there instead of departing for
Ireland in accordance with their sentence, and with the discontented members of
Simon’s own party. By the middle of March Parliament had broken up, and Simon
de Montfort had left London. On March 19 he met the Princes Edward and Henry,
whom in spite of their release he still kept near him, at his castle of Odiham.
There, attended by a princely retinue, he remained till the end of the month.
The disturbances on the western border, and the proclamation of another
tournament, this time at Northampton, made an expedition westward a matter of
necessity. He left Odiham on April 2, and never saw his wife or home again.
With him went the king and the princes. By this time the Earl of Gloucester had
struck an alliance with Roger Mortimer, one of the staunchest royalists, and a
renewal of the civil war was evidently impending. To meet this danger Simon
marched to Northampton, where he probably put an end to the preparations, if
such were being made, for the proposed tournament ; and then to Hereford, the centre of the disaffected district. On his way he visited
Worcester and Gloucester, both which towns were most important as holding the
bridges across the Severn. At the former place a council was held, which
decreed anew the banishment of the rebellious Marchers. While at Hereford he
received the news that the Earl of Warenne, William
of Valence, Hugh Bigod, and others, had landed with.
a strong force at Pembroke. He immediately issued edicts commanding the ports
to be carefully watched, to prevent assistance being introduced from abroad,
and bidding the sheriffs, in accordance with the decrees lately made at
Worcester, seize all who should break the peace. At the same time however the
negotiations with France were not allowed to fall through ; letters were
written to Louis, and Prince Henry sent over again to do what he could for
peace ; ships were despatched to fetch the French
ambassadors, and the Countess of Leicester made ready to welcome them at Dover.
Her position as warden of the most important stronghold of the realm shows the
trust which the earl always placed in that constant and high-souled woman.
Lastly, in spite of the hostile bearing of the malcontents, headed by the Earl
of Gloucester, the attempt to settle the difficulty by arbitration was renewed,
and a proclamation issued, assuring the country that the reports of a quarrel
between the two earls were false.
The truth of these reports was however too soon
apparent. The Earl of Gloucester had already, it appears, attempted to seize Simon
and the king, or to rescue the latter, while on his way through the Forest of
Dean from Gloucester to Hereford. In, spite of this attempt, which possibly was
only projected and therefore remained unknown to Simon, two of the royalist
barons, Leyburne and Clifford, were allowed to visit
Prince Edward at Hereford. This ill-timed leniency seems to have been the cause
of the decisive event which followed, for it was probably at this meeting that
a plan for Edward’s escape was arranged. Through Thomas de Clare, younger
brother of the Earl of Gloucester, his constant attendant, he kept up
communication with the Marchers. At length all was ready. On May 28 Edward went
out in the cool of the evening with the companions assigned to him, one of whom
was Henry de Montfort, to ride in the flat meadows outside the walls of
Hereford. His friends had managed to convey to him a horse of great speed,
which he proposed to try with the rest. Mounting his comrades’ horses one after
another, he rode thein till they were tired out. At this moment a horseman
appeared on the hill, and waved his hat. This was the signal agreed on. Edward
at once leapt on his own steed, saluted his gaolers with sarcastic politeness, and rode off, attended by one or two who were in the
secret. Before his guardians had time to recover their surprise he had
disappeared in the forest, and though they pursued they were owing to his
artifice unable to overtake him. He was soon met by some of his friends, and
made the best of his way to Roger Mortimer’s castle of Wigmore.
The consequences of his escape were immediately felt. Two days afterwards the
Countess of Leicester left Odiham and travelled with all speed to Porchester, and thence soon after to Dover. De Montfort saw
his danger, and at once issued edicts summoning all tenants-in-chief to march
against Prince Edward. Another week and the desertion of the Earl of Gloucester
was published abroad, and the earl denounced as a rebel. The bishops were
bidden, in accordance with the enactments of the last Parliament, to
excommunicate Prince Edward and his adherents, as violators of their plighted
faith. The garrison of Bristol Castle was commanded to surrender that
stronghold to de Montfort, but refused.
Meanwhile the Earl of Gloucester had met Prince Edward
at Ludlow, and had sworn allegiance to him, after having however induced him
first of all to vow that he would observe the ancient laws of the land, and
would never introduce aliens to power. Edward immediately became the centre to which all royalistic elements streamed. His name
united all the disaffected—the old royalists, the unruly Marchers, the
moderates under the Earl of Gloucester. Crowds joined him as he marched on
Worcester, and occupied it and the neighbouring strongholds of Bridgnorth and Shrewsbury. Gloucester remained, and he
opposition, lost no time in attacking it. The force which Simon had been able
to spare for its protection was not strong enough to hold it. After a brave
struggle the defenders gave way, and surrendered the castle towards the end of
June. The royalists at once broke down the bridges, carried off the boats, cut
the fords, and so hemmed in de Montfort behind the line of the Severn. No help
could reach him from the east. Despairing of succour,
he had already struck close alliance with Llewelyn, and to gain his aid he
seems to have made concessions scarcely justifiable under any circumstances. He
remitted many obligations which the Welch had been bound to fulfil, gave up to
them for a nominal sum all the lands and castles which they had lately retaken,
and even yielded others that were not in their possession. The terms, we are
told, provoked great disgust in London, and doubtless elsewhere, for an
alliance with the Welch was generally looked on as little less than monstrous.
Simon must have been very hard pressed before he would have been driven to take
so extreme a step. Having however thus secured allies in this quarter, he moved
down the Wye to Monmouth, and then went on to
Newport, whence he tried to escape across the channel to Bristol. He summoned
ships from that port, and though the garrison is said to have been hostile, the
citizens were friendly and sent them. But Edward, sallying forth from
Gloucester, attacked the transport fleet on its way, and dispersed it ; then,
landing on the northern side, he drove Simon westward across the Usk into Newport, and was only prevented Bristol, from
entering the town after him by the destruction of the bridge. Under cover of
night Simon left the town, and retreated northwards again. His men suffered
terribly from privation, not being able to subsist on the goats flesh and milk
which formed the only food of the Welch. They were also wearied out by the
difficult march through a wooded and trackless country. At Hereford he paused
awhile to recruit, and after a vain attempt to cross the Severn, in which he
was probably checked by floods, he returned to wait for reinforcements.
So far he had been completely unsuccessful, and every
day which he had to spend in wearisome inactivity on the other side of the
Severn was so much loss to a cause in which the inspiration of his personal
presence was indispensable. Still all would not have been lost, but for the
folly of the younger Simon, who was blockading Pevensey Castle when the news of
Edward0s escape led him to raise the siege. He had since then been engaged in
collecting troops in who the south and east, and especially in London, to bring
to the assistance of his father. The democratic party in the capital had had
some difficulty in keeping the upper hand, and the decay of the popular cause
was shown by the violent measures resorted to in order to keep down its enemies
in that stronghold of the reform party. As yet however these measures were
successful. Simon, after conducting his mother to Dover, was able to bring
together a considerable force of Londoners and other partisans, with which he
set out from London early in July. But, instead of marching straight towards
the west, he went southward again, and wasted precious time in an attempt upon Winchester,
with the object of collecting funds and men. The citizens of that loyal town
refused him admittance, whereupon he forced his way in and gave the city over
to pillage. Thence he pursued his journey by way of Oxford and Northampton,
both of which towns showed themselves friendly, or at least neutral. Marching
thus by easy stages he arrived at Kenilworth in the last days of July.
He reached the castle late one evening, after sunset.
His army was too numerous to lie within the enclosure of the walls ; the troops
were therefore scattered about the village and in the priory. The younger Simon
himself, and many of his most important partisans, lay outside the castle,
finding there more comfortable quarters, or, according to other authorities, on
account of the greater facilities for bathing. This they appear to have done
for two or three nights, in fancied security but with a most culpable want of
vigilance, for they knew that Prince Edward was hard by, and had in fact been
warned by him, according to the rules of chivalry, that he meant to pay them a
visit. It was Simon de Montfort’s plan to surround the royalists as they lay at
Worcester, or to effect a junction with his son and then attack them with a
superior force. The prince resolved to anticipate this danger, and to crush his
enemies singly. He saw his opportunity, and having found out through spies the
position of Simon’s troops at Kenilworth, he left Worcester with a strong force
on the evening of Friday, July 31.' On Saturday morning, August 1, at early
dawn, they came in sight of the castle and halted in a neighbouring hollow, where they had the good fortune to fall in with some foragers, whom
they easily overpowered, and so were able to exchange their own jaded horses
for fresher animals. Thence they marched into the village. Edward had given
orders to capture all, if possible, alive, and the enemy were so completely
taken by surprise that they were incapable of making. any resistance. They were
roused from their beds by loud shouts of “Get up, get up, ye traitors, and come
out, or by the death of God ye are all undone!”. A few made their escape by
back ways, and fled, some stark naked, some with their breeches on, others
carrying their clothes under their arms. Young Simon himself, having perfect
knowledge of the locality, escaped by way of the large moat or pond, which he
crossed in a boat, and so got safe into the castle. But far the greater number
were taken prisoners, and among them ten or more bannerets, including the Earl
of Oxford, William de Munchanesy, Richard de Gray,
and others of note. The booty was immense. So many horses were taken that
Edward was able to turn his infantry into cavalry, and the very grooms paraded
themselves before him in the arms and on the war-horses of knights. The blow
was fatal, for though Kenilworth itself could not be taken, the larger half of
the baronial army was annihilated, and Edward left free to attack the remainder
with an overpowering force.
Meanwhile the Earl of Leicester, weary of waiting for
the aid which never came, or, according to preconcerted plan, had at length
broken up from Hereford. All unconscious of his sons defeat, he crossed the
Severn in boats, on Sunday, August 2, and passed the night at Kempsey, a few
miles below Worcester, a manor belonging to his old friend the bishop. He
remained at Kempsey most of the next day, and late on Monday evening started
for Evesham, with the intention of marching up the Avon to Kenilworth, there to
join his son, if he did not meet him on the road. They appear to have arrived
at Evesham some time early on the morning of Tuesday,
August 4. They had marched some fifteen miles during the night, and were
doubtless glad to halt awhile and take rest and refreshment. The king
breakfasted and heard mass in the abbey ; the earl however would take nothing.
The day wore on, and time was pressing. They made ready therefore to continue
their march, and Simon and the king were just about to mount their horses, when
some of the vanguard, who had already left the town, ran back and reported that
an armed troop was approaching.
The little town of Evesham lies in a bend of the river
Avon, which turning sharp to the west and then to the north forms here a
complete peninsula, which may be likened to a tightly-stretched bow. Across the
arc of this bow runs a line of low hills, which, ending eastward in the Avon
itself, are continued westward along the right bank of the river, when it
resumes its former course. At the extreme or southern end of this peninsula lay
the abbey, on a slight eminence sloping into the stream, and north of the abbey
walls is the little town, the chief street of which follows the line of the
Alcester road, running due north and south. To the east of the town, just
outside the abbey walls, is a bridge over the Avon, by which the road crosses
to the suburb of Bengeworth, and then turns northward
along the left bank of the river towards Kenilworth. This road however splits
into two at Bidford, one route crossing the river
again and going on by way of Alcester, the other going by way of Stratford and
Warwick. Simon had therefore three routes by which to make his way to
Kenilworth, the most natural of which was probably the road leading directly
northward through Alcester. Two roads lead from Evesham to Worcester, one of
which follows the left bank of the Avon, and crosses it again when it bends
southward at Pershore, while the other follows the
right bank of that stream. But by neither of these did Edward arrive at the
battlefield.
He heard that the earl would start for Kenilworth by
way of Evesham on Monday night, and resolved at once to cut him off from his
stronghold at all hazards, by a flank march which should cross his line of
route. But he had to elude the vigilance of certain spies whom he suspected to
be in his camp. He started therefore late in the evening of Monday, August 3,
and marched at first northwards up the left bank of the Severn, as if aiming at
Shrewsbury or Bridgnorth. When he had reached Claines,
a little village about three miles north of Worcester, he considered he had
gone far enough to deceive the spies, and turned suddenly towards the east
Thence he rode without drawing rein, probably by way of Alcester, and crossed
the Avon at Priors ; Cleeve, about four miles north-east of Evesham. This
brought him to the Warwick and Kenilworth road. Finding that Simon had not
passed that way, he concluded he must have taken the direct road by Alcester,
and therefore recrossed the Avon near Dead Mans Eyot, mounted the elevation now called Green Hill, and took
his station on the summit at a place where four roads meet. Posting his own men
in the open, he stationed Gloucester with his troop a little way to the left,
out of sight from the town. From this point they commanded all the outlets, and
knew that Simon could not escape them. For Roger Mortimer, with a third body,
had been detached when the rest recrossed the Avon, to march down its left
bank, and close the only remaining exit, that over Bengeworth Bridge. But Simon made no attempt to fly. Hemmed in on all sides by his foes,
the old lion turned savagely at bay.
When the earl heard that troops were seen approaching,
he cried out with joy, “It is my son. But nevertheless”, he added, “go up and
look and bring me word again”. His barber, Nicholas, who was gifted with a long
sight and had some knowledge of heraldry, mounted the bell-tower of the abbey,
and appears to have been followed by his master. At first Nicholas
distinguished the ensigns of young Simon and his partisans, floating in the van
of the advancing force. Another minute, and he saw they were in hostile hands,
a bitter proof of the fate of his friends, and a warning of his own. From the
tower-roof one can still look out with Simon’s eyes upon the beautiful
landscape below. Straight in front of him, about a mile distant, he looked upon
the slopes of Green Hill, glistening with the weapons of those who were
thirsting for his blood. A little to the right, over the shoulder of the hill,
his eye followed the course of the winding stream, towards the place where his
home lay. Between him and the hill stretched a small plain, over which he would
have to pass to his death, a plain probably then as now bright with gardens,
and golden with the ripening fruit of autumn. Beneath him lay the little town,
and as he glanced at the bridge, while one thought of escape crossed his mind,
he may have seen the horsemen of Mortimer hastening down to block his path.
Behind him lay the river, before him the foe. It needed not many moments to
show him that all was over. And bitterer than the thought of his own fate, with
years of life and power yet in him, more numbing than the vague sense of what
had befallen his son, must have been the conviction that for a time at least
the cause which he had at heart, and for the sake of which he had looked death
in the face, must perish with him. For a time at least : let us hope that in
his moment of agony he was consoled by some vision of what was to come, by the
faith that in after years one yet greater and far more fortunate than he would
arise and protect the liberties of the nation he had adopted for his own. But
it was no time for dreams ; he would sell his life as dearly as he could. “May
the Lord have mercy upon our souls”, he said, “for our bodies are undone”.
Outnumbered as they were by three to one, victory was
out of the question. His friends urged him to fly, but the thought of flight
for himself was not in his mind. A natural flash of anger burst forth in the remark
that it was the folly of his own sons which had brought him to this pass.
Nevertheless he endeavoured to persuade his eldest
son Henry, his old comrade Hugh Despenser, and others to fly while there was
yet time, and maintain the good cause when fortune should smile again. But one
and all refused to desert him, preferring not to live if their leader died.
“Come then”, he said, “and let us die like men ; for we have fasted here and we
shall breakfast in heaven”.
His troops were hastily shriven by the aged Bishop of
Worcester, who had performed the same office a year before upon a happier
field. Then he led them out against the enemy, with the white cross again upon
their shoulders, in as close order as he could. In the midst of them was the
king, for Simon seems to the last to have cherished a faint hope of cutting his
way through his adversaries ; and as at Lewes, the possession of the royal
person was everything to him. As they neared the hill, Prince Edward’s troops,
who had been in no hurry to leave their point of vantage, began to descend upon
them. Simon’s heart was struck with admiration of the fair array before him, so
different from that which he had met a year before ; his soldierly pride told
him to whom their skill was due. “By the arm of St. James”, he cried, “they
come on well; they learnt that not of themselves, but of me”.
On the south-western slope of Green Hill there is a
small valley or combe ; in this hollow the
chief struggle raged. On the further side, in the grounds of a private house,
stands the obelisk, which marks the spot where, according to tradition, Simon
de Montfort fell. Towards the higher part of the combe is a spring, still called De Montfort’s Well, which, on the day of the battle,
is said to have run with blood. Prince Edward began the fray, and while the
earl was engaged with him, Gloucester came up with a second body on his left,
so that he was soon surrounded. The Welch infantry, poor, half-armed troops,
fled at once, and were cut down in the neighbouring gardens by Mortimer’s forces, which must now have been advancing from the rear.
Simon’s horse was killed under him ; his eldest son was among the first to
fall. When this was told him, he cried, “Is it so? then indeed is it time for
me to die”; and rushing upon the enemy with redoubled fury, and wielding his
sword with both his hands, the old warrior laid about him with so terrific
force, that had there been but half a dozen more like himself, says one who saw
the fight, he would have turned the tide of battle. As it was he nearly gained
the crest of the hill. But it was not to be. For a while he stood like a tower,
but at length a foot soldier, lifting up his coat of mail, pierced him in the
back, and, with the words “Dieu merci” on his lips, he fell. Then the battle
became a butchery. No quarter was asked or given. The struggle lasted for about
two hours complete in the early summer morning, and then all was over, his
army.
Of the horrid cruelties practised by the victors on the body of their greatest foe it is better not to speak. The
gallant old man lay, with the few who remained faithful to him and to his
cause, dead upon the field, and with him the curtain seemed to fall upon all
that was free and noble in the land. The tempests which raged throughout the
country that day were remarked as shadowing forth the grief of heaven. The
accompanying darkness, which was so thick that in some places the monks could
no longer see to chant their prayers, was nothing to that which must have
fallen on many when they heard of the death of their protector. But he had not
lived in vain. England had learnt a lesson from him, and had seen glimpses of
what might be ; and a retributive justice brought his principles to life again
through the very hands which had destroyed him. It was probably well for
England that he died when he did, for a victory at Evesham would not have
relieved him from the dilemma in which he was caught, but would rather have
made it worse. Had he established and maintained his power, there was no one to
take his place when a natural death should have removed him from the headship
of affairs, and a feudal anarchy worse than that under Stephen would have
supervened. It is easy enough to find fault with his politics. The party of
order will blame his unconstitutional violence, and declare that his end did
not justify his means. The party of reform will object to his moderation, and
condemn him as an aristocrat after all. His political principles were doubtless
in some measure premature, circumstances sometimes drove him into desperate and
unjustifiable acts. But for all that, it would have been ill for England then,
and perhaps would be ill now, had he never lived to raise his voice in favour of the oppressed, to curb the power of a would-be
absolute monarch and an irresponsible baronage, and to remind his adopted
countrymen that the remedy against such things was in their own hands and in
the ancient institutions of their country.
His character will be better learnt from his actions
than from any analysis. An impartial judge has said, “Nothing is more difficult
than to form a just idea of the character of this illustrious person, who was
abhorred as a devil by one half of England, and adored as a saint or guardian
angel by the other. He was unquestionably one of the greatest generals and
politicians of his age ; bold, ambitious, and enterprising ; ever considered
both by friends and enemies as the very soul of the party which he espoused”.
These words are true, but they contain only half the truth. He was more than a great
general, more than a great politician, far more than a mere party leader,
inasmuch as he obeyed to the death that ruling principle which his own words
expressed, “I would rather die without a foot of land than break the oath that
I have made”. This was why he was worshipped as a saint and a martyr ; and if
we smile at the popular superstition which believed in the miracles wrought at
his tomb, we can look up to the popular instinct which recognised in him that rarest of all miracles, a true patriot. The form of government
which he set up and the constitutional measures he adopted to strengthen it
sufficiently disprove the assertion that he used the pretext of reform to cover
the designs of a purely selfish ambition. The fact, that he never aimed at supreme
power, in spite of the insults and injuries he received at the hands of Henry,
until it became evident that in no other way could justice be done, acquits him
of the charge of traitorous disloyalty to his king. The fact that he was the
only one of the greater nobles who remained true to his cause, shows how far he
was above the prejudices of class, and what temptations he had to surmount
before he left the common rut in which his peers were content to move, and
marked out for himself the nobler and more dangerous course to which duty
called him. A conviction of his own honesty of purpose, a firm faith that the
right would triumph, as well as an overweening confidence in his own powers,
led him to persevere in that course to the end, and to essay the impossible. He
failed, but he was fortunate in that he did not live to feel the bitterness of
failure. If in his public life he cannot be altogether freed from blame, his
private life was beyond reproach. A blameless husband, a kind, too kind,
father, a constant friend—he was the model of a Christian knight and gentleman.
That he was the best hated, as he was the best loved, man of his day, is but
natural. His character was one calculated to offend as many as it attracted. In
a rough age, one may perhaps say in political matters in every age, no one can
do great things without some ambition, some imperiousness, some selfishness, if
one is to stamp with that name the necessary self-assertion of a strong
character. Who shall say in what proportion these are to be mingled with other
and nobler attributes—sympathy, devotion, uprightness, perseverance, energy,
faith. No man is faultless, and he was no exception to the rule ; but if any
faults can be said to ennoble a character, they are those of Simon de Montfort.
CHAPTER XIICONCLUSION.
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