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Freeman Edward Augustus
The Growth of the English Constitution

The career of Simon of Montfort is the most glorious in our later history. Cold must be the heart of every Englishman who does not feel a thrill of reverence and gratitude as he utters that immortal name. But, fully to understand his work, we must go back somewhat before his own time, we must go back and trace how the sway of foreign invaders first made the path ready for the course of the foreign deliverer. I have shown in what state our Constitution stood at the time of the Norman Conquest. In that Constitution, be it ever remembered, the Norman Conquest made no formal change whatever. Nothing has had a more lasting effect on all later English history than the personal character and position of the Norman Conqueror. But it was not in the character of a legislator that the main work of William was done. His greatest work of all was to weld together the still imperfectly united kingdoms of our ancient England into one indivisible body, a body which, since his day, no man has ever dreamed of rending asunder. But this was not the work of any formal legislative enactment; it was the silent result of the compression of foreign conquest. So it was with William’s whole policy and position. He was in truth a Conqueror, King by the edge of the sword, but it was his aim in everything to disguise the fact. He claimed the Crown by legal right; he received it by the formal election of the English people, and he was consecrated to his kingly office by the hands of an English Primate. He professed to rule, not according to his own will, not according to any laws of his own devising, but according to the laws of his predecessor and kinsman King Eadward⁸¹. The great immediate change which was wrought under him was not any formal legislative change; it was the silent revolution implied in the transfer – the wary and gradual transfer – of all the greatest estates and highest offices in England to the hands of foreign holders. The momentary effect was to make Englishmen on their own soil the subjects of foreign conquerors. The lasting effect was to change those foreign conquerors into Englishmen, and to call forth the spirit of English freedom in a more definite and antagonistic shape than it had ever before put on. What was the real position of a landowner of Norman descent within a generation or two after the Conquest? He held English lands according to English law; in all but the highest rank he lived on equal terms with other landowners of English birth; he was himself born on English soil, often of an English mother; he was called on in endless ways to learn, to obey, and to administer, the laws of England. Such a man soon became in feeling, and before long in speech also, as good an Englishman as if he had come of the male line of Hengest or Cerdic. There was nothing to hinder even one of the actual conquerors from thoroughly throwing in his lot with his new country and with its people. His tongue was French, but in truth he had far more in common with the Englishman than with the Frenchman. He was but a near kinsman slightly disguised. The Norman was a Dane who, in his sojourn in Gaul, had put on a slight French varnish, and who came into England to be washed clean again. The blood of the true Normans, in the real Norman districts of Bayeux and Coutances, differs hardly at all from the blood of the inhabitants of the North and East of England⁸². See a French soldier and a Norman farmer side by side, and you feel at once that the Norman is nothing but a long-parted kinsman. The general effect of him is that of a man of Yorkshire or Lincolnshire who has somehow picked up a bad habit of talking French. Such men readily became Englishmen. We have the distinct assertions of contemporary writers, and every incidental notice bears out their assertions, that, among all classes between the highest and the lowest, among all between the great noble and the villain, the distinction of Norman and Englishman had been forgotten within little more than a hundred years after the time when King William came into England⁸³. And presently other causes came to make all the sons of the soil draw nearer and nearer together. A new dynasty filled the throne, a dynasty which claimed by female descent to be at once Norman and English, but which, in origin and feeling, was neither Norman nor English⁸⁴. Henry the Second, Count of Anjou through his father, Duke of Aquitaine through his wife, inherited also his mother’s claims on Normandy and England, but under him Normandy and England alike were but parts of a vast dominion which stretched from the Orkneys to the Pyrenees. Under the mighty, and on the whole the righteous, sway of the great Henry the worst side of this state of things did not show itself⁸⁵. Under his sons and his grandson England felt to the full the bitterness and the blessings of the Conquest. The land was overrun by utter strangers; the men of Old-English birth and the descendants of the first Norman settlers both saw the natives of other lands placed over the heads of both alike. Places of trust and honour and wealth were handed over to foreign favourites, and every man in the land was exposed to a yet heavier scourge, to the violence and insolence of foreign mercenaries. Under John Normandy was lost⁸⁶, and England again became the chief possession of the King of England. But neither John nor Henry learned the lesson. The personal vices of the father, the personal virtues of the son, worked to the same end as far as their kingdom was concerned. The King whose wickedness became a proverb, who surrounded himself with the kindred ruffians of every nation, and the King whose chief fault was that he could never say No to his wife or his mother, helped alike to call forth the spirit of resistance, to draw all Englishmen of whatever origin nearer together, and thereby to work out the great work of giving England a free and lasting Constitution. For such Kings we may well be thankful, but to such Kings we owe no thanks. Our feelings of personal thankfulness towards any of our later Kings begin only when a King arose who joined the political skill of Henry the Second to the personal virtues of Henry the Third, and who added to both a feeling of English patriotism, a ruling sense of right in public affairs, of which neither Henry ever felt the slightest spark in his bosom. Edward the First, the first of our later Kings who bore an English name and an English heart, was the first round whose name can gather any feelings of personal thankfulness. In him we see the first of our Kings of foreign blood who did aught for the growth of our constitutional rights in some other way than that of calling forth the spirit of resistance to his rule.

Thus it was that the misgovernment of our Angevin Kings called forth among all the natives of the land an universal spirit of revolt against the domination of strangers within the realm. And they called forth the spirit of revolt in another way, a way hardly less important, by their base subserviency to a foreign power in ecclesiastical matters. I have here nothing to do with theological dogmas, with their truth or their falsehood, but the ecclesiastical position of the nation forms a most important aspect of its history throughout these times. In Old-English times there can be no doubt as to the existence of an effective supremacy in ecclesiastical matters on the part of the Crown. The King was the Supreme Governor of the Church, because he was the Supreme Governor of the Nation. The Church and the Nation were absolutely the same; the King and his Witan dealt with ecclesiastical questions and disposed of ecclesiastical offices by the same right by which they dealt with temporal questions and disposed of temporal offices⁸⁷. The Bishop and the Ealdorman, each appointed by the same authority, presided jointly in the assembly of the shire, and the assembly over which they presided dealt freely both with ecclesiastical and with temporal causes. One of the few formal changes in our Law which took place in the days of the Conqueror was the separation of the two jurisdictions of the Bishop and the Ealdorman. One of William’s extant laws ordained the establishment, according to continental models, of distinct ecclesiastical courts for the trial of ecclesiastical cause⁸⁸. But more important than this formal change was the practical result of the Conquest in bringing England into closer connexion than before with the See of Rome. The enterprise of the Conqueror was approved by Hildebrand, and it was blessed by the Pope in whose name Hildebrand already ruled⁸⁹. While William lived, the royal supremacy remained untouched, and, allowing for his position in a conquered land, we may fairly say that it was not abused. But in meaner hands the ancient power of the Crown as the representative of the nation was often abused and often disputed. Quarrels arose as to the limits of the ecclesiastical and the civil power such as had never been heard of in the old times. And we must remember that claims which seem utterly monstrous now were far from seeming monstrous in a state of things so wholly unlike our times. Even the claim of the clergy to an exemption from temporal jurisdiction in criminal cases had a very different look then from what it has now. The privilege thus claimed was by no means confined to the priesthood; it took in a large part of those among the people who were least able to defend themselves⁹⁰. And when we think of the horrible punishments, death, and mutilations worse than death, which the courts of our Angevin Kings freely inflicted for very slight offences, we can understand that men looked favourably on the courts of the Bishops, where the heaviest penalties were stripes and imprisonment. In the disputes between the Crown and the Church, from William Rufus to Henry the Second, we find popular feeling always enlisted on the ecclesiastical side⁹¹. Nor need we wonder at this, when we find among the Constitutions of Clarendon, which King Henry strove to enforce and which Archbishop Thomas withstood, one which forbad the ordination of villains without the consent of their lords. That is to say, it cut off from the lowest class the only path by which they had any hope of rising to posts of honour and authority⁹². But from the reign of John onwards we get a new state of things. A foreign power stepped in, a power which had as yet meddled but little in the strictly internal affairs of England, and which, so far as it had meddled at all, had on the whole taken the popular side. In the latter days of John and through the whole reign of Henry the Third, we find the Pope and the King in strict alliance against the English Church and Nation. The last good deed done by a Pope towards England was when Innocent the Third sent us Stephen Langton⁹³. Ever afterwards we find Pope and King leagued together to back up each other’s oppressions and exactions. The Papal power was always ready to step in on behalf of the Crown, always ready to hurl spiritual censures against the champions of English freedom. The Great Charter was denounced at Rome; so was its author the patriot Primate⁹⁴. Earl Simon died excommunicate; but, in the belief of Englishmen, the excommunications of Rome could not hinder an English Earl from working countless signs and wonders⁹⁵– a pretty convincing argument, one might deem, that the Bishop of Rome had no jurisdiction in this realm of England. Against King and Pope the whole nation stood united; clergy and laity, nobles and commons, men of Norman and men of Old-English birth, all stood together alike against the King’s foreign favourites and against the aggressions of Rome. The historians of the age, all of them churchmen, most of them monks, are all but unanimous on the popular side. Prelates like the Primate Stephen, like Robert Grosseteste of Lincoln and Walter of Cantelupe of Worcester, were foremost in the good cause; the two latter were among the closest friends and counsellors of the patriot Earl⁹⁶. We see how old distinctions and old enmities had been wiped out, how all the sons of the soil were banded together in one fellowship, when we read the letter denouncing the abuses of the Roman See which was sent to that See in the name of no less a body than the whole Nobility, Clergy, and Commons of the English realm. In that letter, an out-spoken and truly English document, which has been preserved by an historian who well appreciated it, the writers set forth that, as the Nobles, Clergy, and Commons in whose name it is written have no common seal, they have, for the signature of their document, borrowed the seal of the city of London⁹⁷.

This last fact brings me round to what I first spoke of long ago, what I may perhaps seem to have forgotten, but what I have in truth had constantly before my eyes, the distinctly constitutional reforms which we owe to Earl Simon of Montfort. The fact that a document which professed to speak in the name of all classes of the whole nation could not be so fittingly signed as with the seal of the city of London marks the place which that city held in the political estimation of the time. But London held that position only as the greatest member of an advancing class, as the foremost among the cities and boroughs of England. Now the great work of Earl Simon was to give those cities and boroughs their distinct place as one of the elements of the body politic. Let us trace the steps by which that great work was done. When we reach the thirteenth century, we may look on the old Teutonic constitution as having utterly passed away. Some faint traces of it indeed we may find here and there in the course of the twelfth century, as when both sides in the wars of Stephen and Matilda acknowledged the right of the citizens of London to a voice in the disposal of the Crown⁹⁸. But the regular Great Council, the lineal representatives of the ancient Mycel Gemôt or Witenagemôt, was shrinking up into a body not very unlike our House of Lords. Its constitution, as I have already hinted, was far more fluctuating, far less strictly hereditary, than the modern body, but it was almost as far from being in any sense a representation of the people. The Great Charter secures the rights of the nation and of the national Assembly as against arbitrary legislation and arbitrary taxation on the part of the Crown. But it makes no change in the constitution of the Assembly itself. The greater Barons were to be summoned personally; the lesser tenants in chief, the representatives of the landsittende menn of Domesday, were to be summoned by a general writ⁹⁹. The Great Charter in short is a Bill of Rights; it is not what, in modern phrase, we understand by a Reform Bill. But, during the reigns of John and Henry the Third, a popular element was fast making its way into the national Councils in a more practical form. The right of the ordinary freeman to attend in person had long been a shadow; that of the ordinary tenant-in-chief was becoming hardly more practical; it now begins to be exchanged for what had by this time become the more practical right of choosing representatives to act in his name. Like all other things in England, this right has grown up by degrees and as the result of what we might almost call a series of happy accidents. Both in the reign of John and in the former part of the reign of Henry, we find several instances of knights from each county being summoned¹⁰⁰. Here we have the beginning of our county members and of the title which they still bear, of knights of the shire. Here is the beginning of popular representation, as distinct from the gathering of the people in their own persons; but we need not think that those who first summoned them had any conscious theories of popular representation. The earliest object for which they were called together was probably a fiscal one; it was a safe and convenient way of getting money. The notion of summoning a small number of men to act on behalf of the whole was doubtless borrowed from the practice in judicial proceedings and in inquests and commissions of various kinds, in which it was usual for certain select men to swear on behalf of the whole shire or hundred. We must not forget, though it is a matter on which I have no time to insist here, that our judicial and our parliamentary institutions are closely connected, that both sprang out of the primitive Assemblies, that things which now seem so unlike as our popular juries and the judicial powers of the House of Lords are in truth both of them fragments of the judicial powers which Tacitus speaks of as being vested in those primitive Assemblies. It was only step by step that the functions of judge, juror, witness, and legislator became the utterly distinct functions which they are now¹⁰¹.

Thus we find the beginnings of the House of Commons, as we might have expected, in that class of its members which, for the most part, has most in common with the already established House of Lords. Thus far the developement of the Constitution had gone on in its usual incidental way. Each step in advance, however slight, was doubtless the work of the discernment of some particular man, even though his views may not have gone beyond the compassing of some momentary advantage. But now we come to that great change, that great measure of Parliamentary Reform, which has left to all later reformers nothing to do but to improve in detail. We come to that great act of the patriot Earl which made our popular Chamber really a popular Chamber. A House of knights, of county members, would have been comparatively an aristocratic body; it would have left out one of the most healthy and vigorous, and by far the most progressive, element in the nation. When, after the fight of Lewes, Earl Simon, then master of the kingdom with the King in his safe keeping, summoned his famous Parliament, he summoned, not only two knights from every county, but also two citizens from every city and two burgesses from every borough¹⁰². The Earl had long known the importance and value of the growing civic element in the political society of his age. When, in an earlier stage of his career, he held the government of Gascony, he had, on his return to England, to answer charges brought against him by the Archbishop of Bourdeaux and the nobles of the province. The Earl’s answer was to bring forward a writing, giving him the best of characters, which was signed with the common seal of the city of Bourdeaux¹⁰³. As it was in Gascony, so it was in England. The Earl was always a reformer, one who set himself to redress practical grievances, to withstand the royal favourites, to put a check on the oppressions of Pope and King. But his first steps in the way of reform were made wholly on an aristocratic basis. He tried to redress the grievances of the nation by the help of his fellow nobles only. Step by step he learned that no true reform could be wrought for so narrow a platform, and step by step he took into his confidence, first the knights of the counties, and lastly the class to whose good will he had owed so much in his earlier trial, the citizens and burgesses. Through the whole struggle they stood steadily by him; London was as firm in his cause as Bourdeaux had been, and its citizens fought and suffered and triumphed with him on the glorious day of Lewes¹⁰⁴. By a bold and happy innovation, he called a class which had done so much for him and for the common cause to take their place in the councils of the nation. It was in Earl Simon’s Parliament of 1265 that the still abiding elements of the popular chamber, the Knights, Citizens, and Burgesses, first appeared side by side. Thus was formed that newly developed Estate of the Realm which was, step by step, to grow into the most powerful of all, the Commons’ House of Parliament.

Such was the gift which England received from her noblest champion and martyr. Nor should it sound strange in our ears that her champion and martyr was by birth a stranger. We boast ourselves that we have led captive our conquerors, and that we have made them into sons of the soil as faithful as ourselves. What we have done with conquerors we have also done with peaceful settlers. In after days we welcomed every victim of oppression and persecution, the Fleming, the Huguenot, and the Palatine. And what we welcomed we adopted and assimilated, and strengthened our English being with all that was worthiest in foreign lands. So can we honour, along with the men of English birth, those men of other lands who have done for England as sons for their own mother. The Danish Cnut ranks alongside of the worthiest of our native Kings. Anselm of Aosta ranks alongside of the worthiest of our native Prelates. And so alongside of the worthiest of our native Earls we place the glorious name of Simon the Righteous. A stranger, but a stranger who came to our shores to claim lands and honours which were his lawful heritage, he became our leader against strangers of another mould, against the adventurers who thronged the court of a King who turned his back on his own people. The first noble of England, the brother-in-law of the King, he threw in his lot, not with princes or nobles, but with the whole people. He was the chosen leader of England in his life, and in death he was worshipped as her martyr. In those days religion coloured every feeling; the patriot who stood up for right and freedom was honoured alongside of him who suffered for his faith. We fill our streets and market-places with the statues of worthies of later days; Peel and Herbert and Lewis and Cobden yet live among us in bronze or marble. In those days honour to the statesman was not well distinguished from worship to the saint, and Waltheof and Simon and Thomas of Lancaster¹⁰⁵ were hailed as sainted patrons of England, and wonders were held to be wrought by their relics or at their tombs. The poets of three languages vied in singing the praises of the man who strove and suffered for right, and Simon, the guardian of England on the field and in the senate, was held to be her truer guardian still in the heavenly places from which our fathers deemed that the curse of Rome had no power to shut him out¹⁰⁶.

The great work of the martyred Earl had a strange destiny. His personal career was cut short, his political work was brought to perfection, by a rival and a kinsman only less to be honoured than himself. On the field of Evesham Simon died and Edward triumphed. But it was on Edward that Simon’s mantle fell; it was to his destroyer that he handed on the torch which fell from his dying grasp. For a moment his work seemed to have died with him; for some years Parliaments were still summoned which were not after the model of the great Assembly which answered to the writs of the captive Henry. But the model still lived in men’s hearts, and presently the wisdom of the great Edward saw that his uncle’s gift could no longer be denied to his people. Parliaments after Simon’s model have been called together in unbroken succession from Edward’s day to our own¹⁰⁷. Next to the name of Simon we may honour the name of Edward himself and the names of the worthies who withstood him. To Roger Bigod of Norfolk and Humfrey Bohun of Hereford we owe the crowning of the work¹⁰⁸. The Parliament of England was now wrought into the fulness of its perfect form, and the most homely, but not the least important, of its powers was now fully acknowledged. No tax or gift could the King of England claim at the hands of Englishmen save such as the Lords and Commons of England had granted him of their free will¹⁰⁹.

Thus we may say that, in the time of Edward the First, the English Constitution definitely put on the same essential form which it has kept ever since. The germs of King, Lords, and Commons we had brought with us from our older home eight hundred years before. But, from King Edward’s days onwards, we have King, Lords, and Commons themselves, in nearly the same outward shape, with nearly the same strictly legal powers, which they still keep. All the great principles of English freedom were already firmly established. There is indeed a wide difference between the political condition of England under Edward the First and the political condition of England in our own day. But the difference lies far more in the practical working of the Constitution than in its outward form. The changes have been many; but a large portion of those changes have not been formal enactments, but those silent changes whose gradual working has wrought out for us a conventional Constitution existing alongside of our written Law. Other changes have been simply improvements in detail; others have been enactments made to declare more clearly, or to secure more fully in practice, those rights whose existence was not denied. But, speaking generally, and allowing for the important class of conventional understandings which have never been clothed with the form of written enactments, the main elements of the English Constitution remain now as they were fixed then. From that time English constitutional history is not merely an inquiry, however interesting and instructive, into something which has passed away. It is an inquiry into something which still lives; it is an inquiry into laws which, whenever they have not been formally repealed, are in full force at this day. Up to the reign of Edward the First English history is strictly the domain of antiquaries. From the reign of Edward the First it becomes the domain of lawyers¹¹⁰.

We find then – it will be understood with what qualifications I am speaking – the English Constitution fully grown by the end of the thirteenth century, and we find it to be, in the shape which it then took, the work of Earl Simon of Montfort and of King Edward the First. Now there are several points in which the shape which our Constitution thus finally took differed from the shapes which were taken by most of the kindred Constitutions on the Continent. The usual form taken by a national or provincial assembly in the middle ages was that of an Assembly of Estates. That is to say, it consisted of representatives of all those classes in the nation which were possessed of political rights. These in most countries were three, Nobles, Clergy, and Commons. And the name of the Three Estates, that is the Nobles, Clergy, and Commons, is equally well known in England, though the meaning of the three names differs not a little in England from what it meant elsewhere. In England we never had, unless it were in the old days of the Eorlas, a Nobility such as is understood by that name in other countries. Elsewhere the nobles formed a distinct class, a class into which it was perhaps not absolutely impossible for those who were beneath it to be raised, but from which it was at least absolutely impossible for any of its members to come down. Whatever the privileges of the noble might be, they extended to all his children and their children for ever and ever. In some countries his titles descend in this way to all his descendants; all the children of a Duke, for instance, are Dukes and Duchesses. In France, and in most other countries where the system of Estates existed, the Estate of the Nobles in the National Assembly was a representation, in some shape or other, of the whole class of nobles as a distinct body. How different this is from our House of Lords I need not point out. In strictness, I repeat, we have no nobility. The seats in our Upper Chamber go by descent and not by election or nomination; but no political privilege attaches to the children of their holders. Even the eldest son of the peer, the future holder of the peerage, is a commoner as long as his father lives. Whatever titles he bears are simply titles of courtesy which carry with them no political privileges above other commoners. Nay, we may go higher still. As the children of the peer have no special advantage, so neither have the younger children of the King himself. The King’s wife, his eldest son, his eldest daughter, his eldest son’s wife, all have special privileges by Law. His other children are simple commoners, unless their father thinks good to raise them, as he may raise any other of his subjects, to the rank of peerage¹¹¹. There is perhaps no feature in our Constitution more important and more beneficial than this, which binds all ranks together, and which has hindered us from suffering at any time under the curse of a noble caste. Yet this marked distinction between our own Constitution and that of most other countries is purely traditional. We cannot say that it was enacted by any particular man or in any particular Assembly. But it is easy to see that the fact that in England our national Assemblies always went on in some shape or other, that the right of all freemen to attend in person was never formally abolished, that the King kept the right of specially summoning whom he would, all helped to hinder the growth of an exclusive noble caste. The aristocratic sentiment, the pride of birth, has doubtless been very strong at all times. But it has been merely a sentiment, resting on no legal foundation. The Crown could always ennoble any one; but the nobility so granted belonged to one only of the family at the time, to the actual owner of the peerage. All ranks could at all times freely intermarry; all offices were open to all freemen; and England, unlike Germany, never saw ecclesiastical foundations whose members were bound to be of noble birth.

The position of the Estate of the Clergy was also widely different in England from what it was in other countries. In fact the political position of the Clergy has, ever since Edward the First, been something utterly anomalous and inconsistent. Elsewhere the representatives of the Clergy, just like those of the Nobles, formed one distinct Estate in the Assembly. In England the great Prelates had seats in the House of Lords, where the Bishops keep them still. But there also existed the anomalous body called Convocation, whose character has always fluctuated between that of an ecclesiastical Synod and that of a parliamentary Estate of the realm¹¹². The Clergy are still summoned along with every Parliament; and one distinctly parliamentary function they held down to the reign of Charles the Second, which was then taken away without any formal enactment. It was one of our great constitutional principles established in King Edward’s days that no tax could be granted to the King except by those who had to pay it. But for a long time the Lords and the Commons taxed themselves separately, and the Clergy in their Convocation taxed themselves separately also. And, till this power was given up, an ecclesiastical benefice gave no right to vote in the election of members of the House of Commons¹¹³.