Comic History of England

A tournament was a sort of refined equestrian prize-fight with one-hundred-ounce jabbers. Each knight, clad in tin-foil and armed cap-a-pie, riding in each other's direction just as fast as possible with an uncontrollable desire to push one's adversary off his horse, which meant defeat, because no man could ever climb a horse in full armor without a feudal derrick to assist him.

[Illustration: A JUDICIAL COMBAT.]

The victor was entitled to the horse and armor of the vanquished, which made the castle paddock of a successful knight resemble the convalescent ward of the Old Horses' Home.

This tourney also constituted the prevailing court of those times, and the plaintiff, calling upon God to defend the right, charged upon the defendant with a charge which took away the breath of his adversary. This, of course, was only applicable to certain cases, and could not be used in trials for divorce, breach of promise, etc.

The tournament was practically the forerunner of the duel. In each case the parties in effect turned the matter over to Omnipotence; but still the man who had his back to the sun, and knew how to handle firearms and cutlery, generally felt most comfortable.

Gentlemen who were not engaged in combat, but who attended to the grocery business during the Norman period, wore a short velvet cloak trimmed with fur over a doublet and hose. The shoes were pointed,—as were the remarks made by the irate parent,—and generally the shoes and remarks accompanied each other when a young tradesman sought the hand of the daughter, whilst she had looked forward to a two-hundred-mile ride on the crupper of a knight-errant without stopping for feed or water.

In those days also, the fool made no effort to disguise his folly by going to Congress or fussing with the currency, but wore a uniform which designated his calling and saved time in estimating his value.

The clergy in those days possessed the bulk of knowledge, and had matters so continued the vacant pew would have less of a hold on people than it has to-day; but in some way knowledge escaped from the cloister and percolated through the other professions, so that to-day in England, out of a good-sized family, the pulpit generally has to take what is left after the army, navy, politics, law, and golf have had the pick. It was a fatal error to permit the escape of knowledge in that way; and when southern Europe, now priest-ridden and pauperized, learns to read and write, the sleek blood-suckers will eat plainer food and the poor will not go entirely destitute.

The Normans ate two meals a day, and introduced better cooking among the Saxons, who had been accustomed to eat very little except while under the influence of stimulants, and who therefore did not realize what they ate. The Normans went in more for meat victuals, and thus the names of meat, such as veal, beef, pork, and mutton, are of Norman origin, while the names of the animals in a live state are calf, ox, pig, and sheep, all Saxon names.

The Authors' Club of England at this time consisted of Geoffrey of Monmouth and another man. They wrote their books with quill pens, and if the authorities did not like what was said, the author could be made to suppress the entire edition for a week's board, or for a bumper of Rhenish wine with a touch of pepper-sauce in it he would change the objectionable part by means of an eraser.

[Illustration: THE AUTHORS' CLUB AT THIS TIME.]

It was under these circumstances that the Plantagenets became leaders in society, and added their valuable real estate in France to the English dominions. In 1154, Henry Plantagenet was thus the most powerful monarch in Europe, and by wedding his son Geoffrey to the daughter of the Duke of Brittany, soon scooped in that valuable property also.

He broke up the custom of issuing pickpocket and felony licenses to his nobles, seized the royal stone-piles and other nests for common sneak thieves, and resolved to give the people a chance to pay taxes and die natural deaths. The disorderly nobles were reduced to the ranks or sent away to institutions for inebriates, and people began to permit their daughters to go about the place unarmed.

Foreign mercenaries who had so long infested the country were ordered to leave it under penalty of having their personal possessions confiscated, and their own carcasses dissected and fed to the wild boars.

[Illustration: FOREIGN MERCENARIES LEAVE ENGLAND.]

Henry next gave his attention to the ecclesiastic power. He chose Thomas à Becket to the vacant portfolio as Archbishop of Canterbury, hoping thus to secure him as an ally; but à Becket, though accustomed to ride after a four-in-hand and assume a style equal to the king himself, suddenly became extremely devout, and austerity characterized this child of fortune, insomuch that each day on bended knees he bathed the chapped and soiled feet of thirteen beggars. Why thirteen beggars should come around every morning to the archbishop's study to have their feet manicured, or how that could possibly mollify an outraged God, the historian does not claim to state, and, in fact, is not able to throw any light upon it at the price agreed upon for this book.

[Illustration: A COOLNESS BETWEEN THE KING AND THE ARCHBISHOP.]

Trouble now arose between the king and the archbishop; a protracted coolness, during which the king's pew grew gray with dust, and he had to baptize and confirm his own children in addition to his other work.

The king now summoned the prelates; but they excused themselves from coming on the grounds of previous engagements. Then he summoned the nobles also, and gave the prelates one more chance, which they decided to avail themselves of. Thus the "Constitutions of Clarendon" were adopted in 1164, and Becket, though he at first bolted the action of the convention, soon became reconciled and promised to fall into line, though he hated it like sin.

Then the Roman pontiff annulled the constitutions, and scared Becket back again into his original position. This angered the king, who condemned his old archbishop, and he fled to France, where he had a tall time. The Pope threatened to excommunicate Henry; but the latter told him to go ahead, as he did not fear excommunication, having been already twice exposed to it while young.

Finally à Becket was banished; but after six years returned, and all seemed again smooth and joyous; but Becket kept up the war indirectly against Henry, till one day he exclaimed in his wrath, "Is there no one of my subjects who will rid me of this insolent priest?" Whereupon four loyal knights, who were doubtless of Scotch extraction, and who therefore could not take a joke, thought the king in dead earnest, and actually butchered the misguided archbishop in a sickening manner before the altar. This was in 1170.

Henry, who was in France when this occurred, was thoroughly horrified and frightened, no doubt. So much so, in fact, that he agreed to make a pilgrimage barefoot to the tomb of à Becket; but even this did not place him upon a firm footing with the clergy, who paraded à Becket's assassination on all occasions, and thus strengthened this opposition to the king.

[Illustration: HENRY WALKING TO THE TOMB OF BECKET.]

CHAPTER XI.

CONQUEST OF IRELAND: UNCOMFORTABLE EFFECTS FOLLOWING THE CULTIVATION OF AN ACQUISITORIAL PROPENSITY

In 1173 occurred the conquest of Ireland, anciently called Hibernia. These people were similar to the Britons, but of their history prior to the year 400 A.D. little is known. Before Christ a race of men inhabited Ireland, however, who had their own literature, and who were advanced in the arts. This was before the introduction of the "early mass" whiskers, and prior to the days when the Orangemen had sent forth their defiant peal.

[Illustration: "EARLY MASS" WHISKERS.]

In the fifth century Ireland was converted by St. Patrick, and she became known as the Island of Saints and Scholars. To say that she has become the island of pugilists and policemen to-day would be unjust, and to say that she has more influence in America than in Ireland would be unkind. Surely her modern history is most pathetic.

For three centuries the island was harassed by the Danes and Northmen; but when the Marquis of Queensberry rules were adopted, the latter threw up the sponge. The finish fight occurred at Clontarf, near Dublin.

Henry had written permission from the Pope to conquer Ireland years and years before he cared to do it. Sometimes it rained, and at other times he did not feel like it, so that his permission got almost worn out by carrying it about with him.

In 1172, however, an Irish chief, or subordinate king, had trouble with his kingdom,—doubtless because some rival monarch stepped in it and tracked it around over the other kingdoms,—and so he called upon the Anglo-Normans under Strongbow (Richard de Clare), whose deClaration of Independence was the first thing of the kind known to civilization, for help. While assisting the Irish chief, Strongbow noticed a royal wink on the features of Henry, and acting upon it proceeded to gather in the other precincts of Ireland. Thus, in 1172, the island was placed under the rule of a viceroy sent there by England.

Henry now had trouble with three of his sons, Henry, Richard, and Geoffrey, who threatened that if the old gentleman did not divide up his kingdom among them they would go to Paris and go into the roué business. Henry himself was greatly talked about, and his name coupled with that of fair Rosamond Clifford, a rival of Queen Eleanor. The king refused to grant the request of his sons, and bade them go ahead with their roué enterprises so long as they did not enter into competition with him.

[Illustration: THE BECKET DIFFICULTY STILL KEPT HENRY AWAKE AT NIGHT.]

So they went to Paris, where their cuttings-up were not noticed. The queen took their side, as also did Louis of France and William, King of Scotland. With the Becket difficulty still keeping him awake of nights also, the king was in constant hot water, and for a time it seemed that he would have to seek other employment; but his masterly hit in making a barefooted pilgrimage to the tomb of Becket, thus securing absolution from the Archbishop of Canterbury, turned the tide.

William of Scotland was made a prisoner in 1174, and the confederacy against the king broken up. Thus, in 1175, the castle at Edinburgh came into the hands of the English, and roast beef was substituted for oats. Irish and Scotch whiskey were now introduced into the national policy, and bits of bright English humor, with foot-notes for the use of the Scots, were shipped to Edinburgh.

Henry had more trouble with his sons, however, and they embittered his life as the sons of a too-frolicsome father are apt to do. Henry Jr. died repentant; but Geoffrey perished in his sins in a tournament, although generally the tournament was supposed to be conducive to longevity. Richard was constitutionally a rebel, and at last compelled the old gentleman to yield to a humiliating treaty with the French in 1189. Finding in the list of the opposing forces the name of John, his young favorite son, the poor old battered monarch, in 1189, selected an unoccupied grave and took possession of same.

[Illustration: THE UNHAPPY FATHER SANK INTO THE GRAVE.]

He cursed his sons and died miserably, deserted by his followers, who took such clothing as fitted them best, and would have pawned the throne had it not been out of style and unavailable for that purpose, beside being secured to the castle. His official life was creditable to a high degree, but his private life seemed to call loudly for a good, competent disinfectant.

[Illustration: WHEN RICHARD WAS SICK THE GENEROUS SULTAN SENT HIM FRUITS AND ICE.]

Richard Kyur duh le ong, as the French have it, or Richard I. of the lion heart, reigned in his father's stead from 1189 to 1199. His reign opened with a disagreeable massacre. The Jews, who had brought him some presents to wear at his inaugural ball, were insulted by the populace, who believed that the king favored a massacre, and so many were put to death.

Richard and Philip of France organized a successful crusade against people who were not deemed orthodox, and succeeded in bagging a good many in Syria, where the woods were full of infidels.

Richard, however, was so overbearing that Philip could not get along with him, and they dissolved partnership; but Richard captured Ascalon after this. His army was too much reduced, however, to capture Jerusalem.

Saladin, the opposing sultan, was a great admirer of Richard, and when the lion-hearted king was ill, sent him fruits and even ice, so the historian says. Where the Saracens got their ice at that time we can only surmise.

Peace was established, and the pilgrims who desired to enter the holy city were unmolested. This matter was settled in 1192.

On his return Richard was compelled to go incog. through Germany, as the authorities were opposed to him. He was discovered and confined till a large ransom was paid.

Philip and John, the king's brother, decided that Richard's extremity was their opportunity, and so concluded to divide up his kingdom between them. At this dramatic moment Richard, having paid his sixty thousand pounds ransom and tipped his custodian, entered the English arena, and the jig was up. John was obliged to ask pardon, and Richard generously gave it, with the exclamation, "Oh, that I could forget his injuries as soon as he will my forgiveness!"

[Illustration: RICHARD TRAVELLING INCOG. THROUGH GERMANY.]

Richard never secured a peace with Philip, but died, in 1199, from the effects of a wound received in France, and when but forty-two years of age. The longevity among monarchs of the present day is indeed gratifying when one reads of the brief lives of these old reigners, for it surely demonstrates that royalty, when not carried to excess, is rather conducive to health than otherwise.

Richard died from the effects of an arrow wound, and all his foes in this engagement were hanged, except the young warrior who had given him his death wound. Doubtless this was done to encourage good marksmanship.

England got no benefit from Richard's great daring and expensive picnics in Palestine; but of course he advertised Great Britain, and frightened foreign powers considerably. The taxation necessary to maintain an army in the Holy Land, where board was high, kept England poor; but every one was proud of Richard, because he feared not the face of clay.

John, the disagreeable brother, succeeded Richard, and reigned seventeen years, though his nephew, Arthur, the son of Geoffrey, was the rightful heir. Philip, who kept himself in pocket-money by starting one-horse rebellions against England, joined with Arthur long enough to effect a treaty, in 1200, which kept him in groceries several years, when he again brought Prince Arthur forward; but this was disastrous, for the young prince was captured and cruelly assassinated by request of his affectionate uncle, King John.

To be a relative of the king in those good old days was generally fatal. Let us rejoice that times have so greatly improved, and that the wicked monarch has learned to seat himself gingerly upon his bomb-infested throne.

[Illustration: JOHN CAUSED ARTHUR TO BE CRUELLY MURDERED.]

CHAPTER XII.

MAGNA CHARTA INTRODUCED: SLIGHT DIFFICULTIES ENCOUNTERED IN OVERCOMING AN UNPOPULAR AND UNREASONABLE PREJUDICE

Philip called the miserable monarch to account for the death of Arthur, and, as a result, John lost his French possessions. Hence the weak and wicked son of Henry Plantagenet, since called Lackland, ceased to be a tax-payer in France, and proved to a curious world that a court fool in his household was superfluous.

John now became mixed up in a fracas with the Roman pontiff, who would have been justified in giving him a Roman punch. Why he did not, no Roman knows.

On the death of the Archbishop of Canterbury in 1205, Stephen Langton was elected to the place, with a good salary and use of the rectory. John refused to confirm the appointment, whereat Innocent III., the pontiff, closed the churches and declared a general lock-out. People were denied Christian burial in 1208, and John was excommunicated in 1209.

Philip united with the Pope, and together they raised the temperature for John so that he yielded to the Roman pontiff, and in 1213 agreed to pay him a comfortable tribute. The French king attempted to conquer England, but was defeated in a great naval battle in the harbor of Damme. Philip afterwards admitted that the English were not conquered by a Damme site; but the Pope absolved him for two dollars.

[Illustration: KING JOHN SIGNS THE MAGNA CHARTA.]

It was now decided by the royal subjects that John should be still further restrained, as he had disgraced his nation and soiled his ermine. So the barons raised an army, took London, and at Runnymede, June 15, 1215, compelled John to sign the famous Magna Charta, giving his subjects many additional rights to the use of the climate, and so forth, which they had not known before.

Among other things the right of trial by his peers was granted to the freeman; and so, out of the mental and moral chaos and general strabismus of royal justice, everlasting truth and human rights arose.

Scarcely was the ink dry on Magna Charta, and hardly had the king returned his tongue to its place after signing the instrument, when he began to organize an army of foreign soldiers, with which he laid waste with fire and sword the better part of "Merrie Englande."

But the barons called on Philip, the general salaried Peacemaker Plenipotentiary, who sent his son Louis with an army to overtake John and punish him severely. The king was overtaken by the tide and lost all his luggage, treasure, hat-box, dress-suit case, return ticket, annual address, shoot-guns, stab-knives, rolling stock, and catapults, together with a fine flock of battering-rams.

This loss brought on a fever, of which he died, in 1216 A.D., after eighteen years of reign and wind.

A good execrator could here pause a few weeks and do well.

History holds but few such characters as John, who was not successful even in crime. He may be regarded roughly as the royal poultice who brought matters to a head in England, and who, by means of his treachery, cowardice, and phenomenal villany, acted as a counter-irritant upon the malarial surface of the body politic.

After the death of John, the Earl of Pembroke, who was Marshal of England, caused Henry, the nine-year-old son of the late king, to be promptly crowned.

Pembroke was chosen protector, and so served till 1219, when he died, and was succeeded by Hubert de Burgh. Louis, with the French forces, had been defeated and driven back home, so peace followed.

Henry III. was a weak king, as is too well known, but was kind. He behaved well enough till about 1231, when he began to ill-treat de Burgh.

He became subservient to the French element and his wife's relatives from Provence (pronounced Provongs). He imported officials by the score, and Eleanor's family never released their hold upon the public teat night or day. They would cry bitterly if deprived of same even for a moment. This was about the year 1236.

[Illustration: THE PROMPT CORONATION OF THE NINE-YEAR-OLD KING HENRY.]

Besides this, and feeling that more hot water was necessary to keep up a ruddy glow, the king was held tightly beneath the thumb of the Pope. Thus Italy claimed and secured the fat official positions in the church. The pontiff gave Henry the crown of Sicily with a C.O.D. on it, which Henry could not raise without the assistance of Parliament. Parliament did not like this, and the barons called upon him one evening with concealed brass knuckles and things, and compelled him to once more comply with the regulations of Magna Charta, which promise he rigidly adhered to until the committee had turned the first corner outside the royal lawn.

[Illustration: THE BARONS COMPELLED HENRY III. TO PROMISE COMPLIANCE WITH THE MAGNA CHARTA.]

Possessing peculiar gifts as a versatile liar and boneless coward, and being entirely free from the milk of human kindness or bowels of compassion, his remains were eagerly sought after and yearned for by scientists long before he decided to abandon them.

Again, in 1258, he was required to submit to the requests of the barons; but they required too much this time, and a civil war followed.

Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, at the head of the rebellious barons, won a victory over the king in 1264, and took the monarch and his son Edward prisoners.

Leicester now ruled the kingdom, and not only called an extra session of Parliament, but in 1265 admitted representatives of the towns and boroughs, thereby instituting the House of Commons, where self-made men might sit on the small of the back with their hats on and cry "Hear! Hear!"

The House of Commons is regarded as the bulwark of civil and political liberty, and when under good police regulations is still a great boon.

Prince Edward escaped from jail and organized an army, which in 1265 defeated the rebels, and Leicester and his son were slain. The wicked soldiery wreaked their vengeance upon the body of the fallen man, for they took great pride in their prowess as wreakers; but in the hearts of the people Leicester was regarded as a martyr to their cause.

Henry III. was now securely seated once more upon his rather restless throne, and as Edward had been a good boy for some time, his father gave him permission to visit the Holy Land, in 1270, with Louis of France, who also wished to go to Jerusalem and take advantage of the low Jewish clothing market. In 1272 Henry died, during the absence of his son, after fifty-six years of vacillation and timidity. He was the kind of king who would sit up half of the night trying to decide which boot to pull off first, and then, with a deep-drawn sigh, go to bed with them on.

Edward, surnamed "Longshanks," having collected many antiques, and cut up a few also, returned and took charge of the throne. He found England prosperous and the Normans and Saxons now thoroughly united and homogeneous. Edward did not hurry home as some would have done, but sent word to have his father's funeral made as cheery as possible, and remained over a year in Italy and France. He was crowned in 1274. In a short time, however, he had trouble with the Welsh, and in 1282, in battle, the Welsh prince became somehow entangled with his own name so that he tripped and fell, and before he could recover his feet was slain.

[Illustration: LONGSHANKS RECEIVES TIDINGS OF HIS FATHER'S DEATH.]

Wales having been annexed to the crown, Edward's son was vested with its government, and the heir-apparent has ever since been called the Prince of Wales. It is a good position, but becomes irksome after fifty or sixty years, it is said.

[Illustration: CONQUEST OF WALES.]

CHAPTER XIII.

FURTHER DISAGREEMENTS RECORDED: ILLUSTRATING THE AMIABILITY OF THE JEW AND THE PERVERSITY OF THE SCOT

In 1278 the Jews, to the number of two hundred and eighty, were hanged for having in their possession clipped coins. Shortly afterwards all the Jews in England were imprisoned. Whenever times were hard the Jews were imprisoned, and on one job lot alone twelve thousand pounds were realized in ransom. And still the Jews are not yet considered as among the redeemed. In 1290 they were all banished from the kingdom and their property seized by the crown. This seizure of real estate turned the attention of the Jews to the use of diamonds as an investment. For four hundred years the Jews were not permitted to return to England.

Scotch wars were kept up during the rest of Edward's reign; but in 1291, with great reluctance, Scotland submitted, and Baliol, whose trouble with Bruce had been settled in favor of the former, was placed upon the throne. But the king was overbearing to Baliol, insomuch that the Scotch joined with the Normans in war with England, which resulted, in 1293, in the destruction of the Norman navy.

Philip then subpoenaed Edward, as Duke of Guienne, to show cause why he should not pay damages for the loss of the navy, which could not be replaced for less than twenty pounds, and finally wheedled Edward out of the duchy.

Philip maintained a secret understanding with Baliol, however, and Edward called a parliament, founded upon the great principle that "what concerns all should be approved by all." This was in 1295; and on this declaration, so far as successful government is concerned, hang all the law and the profits.