Edward I does not enjoy a good reputation in the minds of
many historians and most of those who enjoyed the movie, “Braveheart”. It would
appear that, unlike many other English kings, he doesn’t enjoy the benefit of a
contextual view of his life and times. This might be encouraged by the
patriotic and hugely selective view that has made William Wallace become a
virtual saint in Scotland. Without putting too blunt an end on the matter,
Edward was a winner in imperialistic times and those he beat were his next door
neighbours, the Scots, the Welsh and the French. His victory meant oppression
and subjection of his neighbours delivered in a way that befitted a conquering
king of his time. That does not rest well with the sympathies of a modern
English culture that champions temperance, freedom and peaceful negotiation.
However, for his time, Edward was considered a great king by his English
subjects and yet it was a reputation hard-earned.
Marc Morris’s biography of Edward I was the first written in
a long time. He explains in his introduction that he was aware that few
mainstream English historians held Edward in high regard from a moral point of
view. Edward’s reputation as a tyrant and invader come from actions that are no
worse than two of England’s most lionized medieval monarchs, Richard I, who
Edward sought emulate on his own crusades, and Henry V, who hero-worshipped
Edward’s iron-fist example. Both Richard and Henry have their detractors.
Richard goes through rapid periods of reappraisal, from the epitome of courage
in the name of the Christian faith that won him the title “The Lionheart” to a
treasury-squandering, neglectful King who spent hardly any time in his home
country and didn’t even speak its language and then back to a more balanced
view. Henry, whose main achievement in his short-reign, was to take half of
France, has enjoyed centuries of high praise. However, Ian Mortimer’s
excellently researched and reasoned argument in “1415: Henry V’s Year of Glory”
casts the king as a merciless, religious zealot even for his own time. It would appear that Edward I has simply been
neglected, left to be relegated to the role of arch-nemesis to Scotland’s 1990s
tourist attraction, and England is quite content to leave him there whilst
mainstream historians fend off Richard III supporters.
Nevertheless, Morris’s book not only aims to re-set the
balance of Edward’s moral position in context, but also argues the huge
relevance of his rule. This is shown in his subtitle, “The Forging of Britain”.
The fact that there have been seven reigning Edwards in England since Edward I
and he became an exemplar of a strong rule to many medieval monarchs to follow
must count something towards the English ideals. Edward’s name is a significant
point addressed by Morris. He was actually the fourth King Edward of England,
but the first since the Norman Conquest of 1066. The time between Edward I’s
reign and that of Edward the Confessor was so long that it made sense to those
who simply wished to distinguish between Edward II, Edward I’s son, and his
father. However, the name is still significant. It was idiosyncratic for its
time, being Anglo-Saxon in origin, unlike the anglicized French/Norman names of
William, Henry, Richard and John that preceded him. Morris explains that this
is due to Edward’s father, Henry III’s veneration of Edward the Confessor.
As we all know, Edward would not come to emulate his
peaceful namesake. He was also a very different man from his father and the two
even briefly opposed one another before Edward supported his father and earned
a fearsome reputation in his merciless final battle against the rebellious
Simon de Montefort.
If there was any forging going on, much of it was of
Edward’s own doing. Morris demonstrates, with one symbolic act taken by Edward
in his second and decisive quashing of the Welsh rebellion, the King wished to
imply a lineal connection with the great Arthur. Whilst addressing the
interment and transportation of the fictitious grave of King Arthur under
Edward’s orders, Morris takes his own decisive action. He compels all serious
historians to admit what many have remained ambiguous about in their
discussions of pre-Anglo-Saxon Britain that there never was a King Arthur. It’s
a bold step, but given the sheer lack of reliable contemporary evidence there
is of Arthur – even his actual historical placement is a matter of contention –
I think Morris has a valid point and, at the very least, the burden of proof
needs to be shifted in mainstream history.
Morris’s discussions on Arthur do not take up a lot of room,
but provide an interesting insight into Anglo/Welsh ideologies from Edward’s
rule onwards. In the first instance, Edward supplants a Christ-like figure from
Celtic mythology. Arthur is described as the “once and future king” by many.
The prophesy being that he will return from Avalon to save Britain in direst
hour. By transferring the bones to England’s seat of power was an act of
absorbing the spirit of Arthur into Edward’s persona. Secondly, the main
campaigns that defined Edward’s reign saw a brief period where England’s king
ruled all of Britain. This “unification” is comparable to one of the
distinguishing features of King Arthur’s legend. It is telling that the
Arthurian legends became a part of Britain’s national identity and were
celebrated as much in England as they were in Wales after Edward’s symbolic
action.
Context is a vital tool for the modern historian. It is easy
to lose sight of the medieval world by looking at it through modern eyes and
assuming a universal set of moral standards. It is easy to look back on
England’s continued attacks on the French as a greedy lust of conquest and
power during the middle ages. However, one mustn’t forget the strong attachment
the Norman kings had to their homeland. Morris’s book reminds us of the odd
dual roles a king like Edward had to play in international politics. As far as
his own country was concerned, he was the absolute monarch and equal to any
other king in the world. However, when it came to governing his troubled
homeland in Normandy he was a duke under the King of France. Furthermore, as a
Christian king, he was subjugated to the Catholic Church in Rome. All of this
had a huge bearing on the way Edward operated. Edward’s reclamation of Normandy
seems to be far more about defending England than it was to re-secure the
homeland of his forefathers or as part of the aggressive expansionist policy
that we associate with his reign. It is important to note that English shores
were attacked by the French after they had taken Normandy and such unprovoked
actions were a clear indication of what France intended to do after driving the
English out of their own country.
The Crusades, which seem like such a total waste of scarce
English resources and by far the least successful aspects of Edward’s time on
the throne, were a product of their time. The Catholic Church demanded the Holy
Land be won back to Christendom and this was a real pressure to any sovereign
in Western Europe. To the medieval thinker, fighting in the Crusades was
perhaps one of the most important things God’s appointed monarch could do for
his country and mankind. On a spiritual level, the threat of actual damnation
and the events of Judgement Day were a strong reality. On a political level, no
European country wanted to be on the wrong side of the Church. Edward I died
some 62 years before the birth of Jan Hus, which gives us an indication of how
much he and his subjects would be influenced by the idea of the Pope’s absolute
power over their souls.
However, although Morris’s conclusion is that Edward was one
of the better medieval monarchs in history and a “great” king by the standards
of his people and many generations afterwards, he does not mitigate the other
sides of his personality. He was an unruly youth and before he became king had
switched political persuasions between the various nobles several times. His
good reputation was not built upon a spotless record when he came to power.
During his reign he worked hard to remove his “Leopard” title, which implied a
sneaky and even treacherous reputation, and came from him leaving ahead of his
troops early in his career. In an act that his own father compared to the
rebellion of Henry II’s sons, Edward once sided with Simon de Montford.
Nevertheless, Edward did not stay on de Montfort’s side for
long and we can see the first signs of the merciless domination that would earn
him his fearsome reputation in his final battle with the usurper. It is a
battle where Edward instructed his troops to disregard all codes of chivalry
and results in a wholesale slaughter, concluding with the savage and
humiliating mutilation of Montfort’s corpse. It is often argued throughout the
book that all natives of England’s neighbouring countries were regarded by the
English to be different grades of barbarian. Edward regarded the Scottish crown
to be subordinate to the English one despite this not officially being the case
and the Scottish people to have not come on much since the days of Emperor Hadrian’s
occupation of Britain. The Welsh were considered beneath them, only being
granted a principality status and then even losing that following Edward’s
second crushing of their rebellion. The Irish, who Edward never visited, are
viewed as even lower with their people less subjected than being corralled away
from the occupying English. However, the example he showed in the ultimate
putting down of Montford’s men foreshadows his attitude settling matters.
“The Hammer of the Scots” earned his title following Edward
I’s political manoeuvrings when Scotland’s line of ascension was threatened by
several rival claimants. Originally brought in to play an arbitrational role,
Edward took full advantage of the desperate situation and sought to install his
own puppet ruler. Matters are not so completely clear-cut that we can cast
Edwards as a straightforward villainous expansionist, as this sort of
politicking was rife throughout the world at the time, however, it would result
in a relentless dispute with the Scots that would long outlast Edward’s
lifetime. He may have inflicted massive defeats upon Scotland, but he would
never get the same type of result he got with the Welsh and the legacy he left
his woefully inept son would see one of Scotland’s greatest victories against
the English.
I read the book at a time when Scotland was voting on
whether or not it wished to be independent of Westminster. A tight result
showed that it did wish to continue to be part of the existing union. I wrote
this review some time later just prior to the 2015 General Election, where an
overwhelming dominance in Scotland by the Scottish National Party showed that
the fight was far from over. We live in age where travel and the internet has
presented us with a far larger world than what Edward I knew existed and yet we
often get the impression that we all have been brought closer together.
However, many recent incidents show just how tribal and divisive human beings
continue to be in their inter-dependent activity. Edward I's attempted
absorption into the icon of King Arthur was rather apt. Arthur famously united
Britain, which was the driving policy behind a lot of Edward's ambitions. Today
we can see the reality of this over-simplified view of society.
Morris’s work never feels like a fawning apologist argument
for Edward. Just as he goes to pains in explaining why Edward was and should be
considered a great king of his day, he does not spare us the atrocities
committed on Edward’s orders. One of these was his persecution of Jewish people,
leading to a virtual genocide. The clear objective for what Morris tells us was
the single largest mass execution of Jews in Britain was completely money
orientated.
“A Great and Terrible King: Edward I and the Forging of Britain” is the best historical
book I have read since Ian Mortimer’s “1415: Henry V’s Year of Glory”. It sets
a balance dictated by facts and reason, and ranks as one of the clearest
examples of understanding contextual history.
Don't forget to check out Jamie Clubb's main blog www.jamieclubb.blogspot.com
