Posts Tagged ‘England’

Druids.

Monday, August 20th, 2012

The Druids were the priests or ministers of religion among the ancient

Celtic nations in Gaul, Britain, and Germany.  Our information respecting them

is borrowed from notices in the Greek and Roman writers, compared with the

remains of Welsh and Gaelic poetry still extant.

 

The Druids combined the functions of the priest, the magistrate, the

scholar, and the physician.  They stood to the people of the Celtic tribes in

a relation closely analogous to that in which the Brahmans of India, the Magi

of Persia, and the priests of the Egyptians stood to the people respectively

by whom they were revered.

 

The Druids taught the existence of one god, to whom they gave a name

“Be’al,” which Celtic antiquaries tell us means “the life of every thing,” or

“the source of all beings,” and which seems to have affinity with the

Phoenician Baal.  What renders this affinity more striking is that the Druids

as well as the Phoenicians identified this, their supreme deity, with the Sun.

Fire was regarded as a symbol of the divinity.  The Latin writers assert that

the Druids also worshipped numerous inferior gods.

 

They used no images to represent the object of their worship, nor did

they meet in temples or buildings of any kind for the performance of their

sacred rites.  A circle of stones (each stone generally of vast size)

enclosing an area of from twenty feet to thirty yards in diameter, constituted

their sacred place.  The most celebrated of these now remaining is Stonehenge,

on Salisbury Plain, England.

 

[See Stonehenge: The Druids used no images to represent the object of their

worship, nor did they meet in temples or buildings of any kind for the

performance of their sacred rites.]

 

These sacred circles were generally situated near some stream, or under

the shadow of a grove or wide-spreading oak.  In the centre of the circle

stood the Cromlech or altar, which was a large stone, placed in the manner of

a table upon other stones set up on end.  The Druids had also their high

places, which were large stones or piles of stones on the summits of hills.

These were called Cairns, and were used in the worship of the deity under the

symbol of the sun.

 

That the Druids offered sacrifices to their deity there can be no doubt.

But there is some uncertainty as to what they offered, and of the ceremonies

connected with their religious services we know almost nothing. The classical

(Roman) writers affirm that they offered on great occasions human sacrifices;

as for success in war or for relief from dangerous diseases.  Caesar has given

a detailed account of the manner in which this was done.  “They have images of

immense size, the limbs of which are framed with twisted twigs and filled with

living persons.  These being set on fire, those within are encompassed by the

flames.” Many attempts have been made by Celtic writers to shake the testimony

of the Roman historians to this fact, but without success.

 

The Druids observed two festivals in each year.  The former took place in

the beginning of May, and was called Beltane or “fire of God.” On this

occasion a large fire was kindled on some elevated spot, in honor of the sun,

whose returning beneficence they thus welcomed after the gloom and desolation

of winter.  Of this custom a trace remains in the name given to Whitsunday in

parts of Scotland to this day.  Sir Walter Scott uses the word in the Boat

Song in the Lady of the Lake: -

 

     “Ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain,

     Blooming at Beltane in winter to fade;” &c.

 

The other great festival of the Druids was called “Samh’in,” or “fire of

peace,” and was held on Hallow-even, (first of November,) which still retains

this designation in the Highlands of Scotland.  On this occasion the Druids

assembled in solemn conclave, in the most central part of the district, to

discharge the judicial functions of their order.  All questions, whether

public or private, all crimes against person or property, were at this time

brought before them for adjudication.  With these judicial acts were combined

certain superstitious usages, especially the kindling of the sacred fire, from

which all the fires in the district, which had been beforehand scrupulously

extinguished, might be relighted. This usage of kindling fires on Hallow-eve

lingered in the British islands long after the establishment of Christianity.

 

Besides these two great annual festivals, the Druids were in the habit of

observing the full moon, and especially the sixth day of the moon.  On the

latter they sought the Mistletoe, which grew on their favorite oaks, and to

which, as well as to the oak itself, they ascribed a peculiar virtue and

sacredness.  The discovery of it was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn

worship.  “They call its,” says Pliny, “by a word in their language which

means ‘heal-all,’ and having made solemn preparation for feasting and

sacrifice under the tree, they drive thither two milk-white bulls, whose horns

are then for the first time bound.  The priest then, robed in white, ascends

the tree, and cuts off the mistletoe with a golden sickle.  It is caught in a

white mantle, after which they proceed to slay the victims, at the same time

praying that God would render his gift prosperous to those to whom he had

given it.” They drink the water in which it has been infused, and think it a

remedy for all diseases.  The mistletoe is a parasitic plant, and is not

always nor often found on the oak, so that when it is found it is the more

precious.

 

The Druids were the teachers of morality as well as of religion.  Of

their ethical teaching a valuable specimen is preserved in the Triads of the

Welsh Bards, and from this we may gather that their views of moral rectitude

were on the whole just, and that they held and inculcated many very noble and

valuable principles of conduct.  They were also the men of science and

learning of their age and people.  Whether they were acquainted with letters

or not has been disputed, though the probability is strong that they were, to

some extent.  But it is certain that they committed nothing of their doctrine,

their history, or their poetry to writing. Their teaching was oral, and their

literature (if such a word may be used in such a case) was preserved solely by

tradition.  But the Roman writers admit that “they paid much attention to the

order and laws of nature, and investigated and taught to the youth under their

charge many things concerning the stars and their motions, the size of the

world and the lands, and concerning the might and power of the immortal gods.”

 

Their history consisted in traditional tales, in which the heroic deeds

of their forefathers were celebrated.  These were apparently in verse, and

thus constituted part of the poetry as well as the history of the Druids.  In

the poems of Ossian we have, if not the actual productions of Druidical times,

what may be considered faithful representations of the songs of the Bards.

 

The Bards were an essential part of the Druidical hierarchy.  One author,

Pennant, says, “The Bards were supposed to be endowed with powers equal to

inspiration.  They were the oral historians of all past transactions, public

and private.  They were also accomplished genealogists, &c.”

 

Pennant gives a minute account of the Eisteddfods or sessions of the

Bards and minstrels, which were held in Wales for many centuries, long after

the Druidical priesthood in its other departments became extinct.  At these

meetings none but Bards of merit were suffered to rehearse their pieces, and

minstrels of skill to perform.  Judges were appointed to decide on their

respective abilities, and suitable degrees were conferred.  In the earlier

period the judges were appointed by the Welsh princes, and after the conquest

of Wales, by commission from the kings of England.  Yet the tradition is that

Edward I. in revenge for the influence of the Bards, in animating the

resistance of the people to his sway, persecuted them with great cruelty This

tradition has furnished the poet Gray with the subject of his celebrated ode,

the Bard.

 

There are still occasional meetings of the lovers of Welsh poetry and

music, held under the ancient name.  Among Mrs. Hemans’s poems is one written

for an Eisteddfod, or meeting of Welsh Bards, held in London May 22, 1822.  It

begins with a description of the ancient meeting, of which the following lines

are a part: -

 

     ”. . . midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied

     The crested Roman in his hour of pride;

     And where the Druid’s ancient cromlech frowned,

     And the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round,

     There thronged the inspired of yore!  on plain or height,

     In the sun’s face, beneath the eye of light,

     And baring unto heaven each noble head,

     Stood in the circle, where none else might tread.”

 

The Druidical system was at its height at the time of the Roman invasion

under Julius Caesar.  Against the Druids, as their chief enemies, these

conquerors of the world directed their unsparing fury.  The Druids, harassed

at all points on the main land, retreated to Anglesey and Iona, where for a

season they found shelter and continued their now-dishonored rites.

 

The Druids retained their predominance in Iona and over the adjacent

islands and main land until they were supplanted and their superstitions

overturned by the arrival of St. Columba, the apostle of the Highlands, by

whom the inhabitants of that district were first led to profess Christianity.

 

Iona.

 

One of the smallest of the British Isles, situated near a rugged and

barren coast, surrounded by dangerous seas, and possessing no sources of

internal wealth, Iona has obtained an imperishable place in history as the

seat of civilization and religion at a time when the darkness of heathenism

hung over almost the whole of Northern Europe.  Iona or Icolmkill is situated

at the extremity of the island of Mull, from which it is separated by a strait

of half a mile in breadth, its distance from the main land of Scotland being

thirty-six miles.

 

Columba was a native of Ireland, and connected by birth with the princes

of the land.  Ireland was at that time a land of gospel light, while the

western and northern parts of Scotland were still immersed in the darkness of

heathenism.  Columba with twelve friends landed on the island of Iona in the

year of our Lord 563, having made the passage in a wicker boat covered with

hides.  The Druids who occupied the island endeavored to prevent his settling

there, and the savage nations on the adjoining shores incommoded him with

their hostility, and on several occasions endangered his life by their

attacks.  Yet by his perseverance and zeal he surmounted all opposition,

procured from the king a gift of the island, and established there a monastery

of which he was the abbot.  He was unwearied in his labors to disseminate a

knowledge of the Scriptures throughout the Highlands and Islands of Scotland,

and such was the reverence paid him that though not a bishop, but merely a

presbyter and monk, the entire province with its bishops was subject to him

and his successors.  The Pictish monarch was so impressed with a sense of his

wisdom and worth that he held him in the highest honor, and the neighboring

chiefs and princes sought his counsel and availed themselves of his judgment

in settling their disputes.

 

When Columba landed on Iona he was attended by twelve followers whom he

had formed into a religious body of which he was the head.  To these, as

occasion required, others were from time to time added, so that the original

number was always kept up.  Their institution was called a monastery and the

superior an abbot, but the system had little in common with the monastic

institutions of later times.  The name by which those who submitted to the

rule were known was that of Culdees, probably from the Latin “cultores Dei” -

worshippers of God.  They were a body of religious persons associated together

for the purpose of aiding each other in the common work of preaching the

gospel and teaching youth, as well as maintaining in themselves the fervor of

devotion by united exercises of worship.  On entering the order certain vows

were taken by the members, but they were not those which were usually imposed

by monastic orders, for of these, which are three, celibacy, poverty, and

obedience, the Culdees were bound to none except the third.  To poverty they

did not bind themselves; on the contrary they seem to have labored diligently

to procure for them selves and those dependent on them the comforts of life.

Marriage also was allowed them, and most of them seem to have entered into

that state.  True their wives were not permitted to reside with them at the

institution, but they had a residence assigned to them in an adjacent

locality.  Near Iona there is an island which still bears the name of “Eilen

nam ban,” women’s island, where their husbands seem to have resided with them,

except when duty required their presence in the school or the sanctuary.

 

     Campbell, in his poem of Reullura, alludes to the married monks of

Iona: -

 

     “. . . The pure Culdees

     Were Albyn’s earliest priests of God,

     Ere yet an island of her seas

     By foot of Saxon monk was trod,

     Long ere her churchmen by bigotry

     Were barred from holy wedlock’s tie.

     ‘Twas then that Aodh, famed afar,

     In Iona preached the word with power.

     And Reullura, beauty’s star,

     Was the partner of his bower.”

 

In one of his Irish Melodies, Moore gives the legend of St. Senanus and

the lady who sought shelter on the island, but was repulsed: -

 

     “O, haste and leave this sacred isle,

     Unholy bark, ere morning smile;

     For on thy deck, though dark it be,

     A female form I see;

     And I have sworn this sainted sod

     Shall ne’er by woman’s foot be trod.”

 

In these respects and in others the Culdees departed from the established

rules of the Romish Church, and consequently were deemed heretical.  The

consequence was that as the power of the latter advanced that of the Culdees

was enfeebled.  It was not however till the thirteenth century that the

communities of the Culdees were suppressed and the members dispersed.  They

still continued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads of Papal

usurpation as they best might till the light of the Reformation dawned on the

world.

 

Iona, from its position in the western seas, was exposed to the assaults

of the Norwegian and Danish rovers by whom those seas were infested, and by

them it was repeatedly pillaged, its dwellings burned, and its peaceful

inhabitants put to the sword.  These unfavorable circumstances led to its

gradual decline, which was expedited by the subversion of the Culdees

throughout Scotland.  Under the reign of Popery the island became the seat of

a nunnery, the ruins of which are still seen.  At the Reformation, the nuns

were allowed to remain, living in community, when the abbey was dismantled.

 

Iona is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on account of the numerous

ecclesiastical and sepulchral remains which are found upon it. The principal

of these are the Cathedral or Abbey Church, and the Chapel of the Nunnery.

Besides these remains of ecclesiastical antiquity, there are some of an

earlier date, and pointing to the existence on the island of forms of worship

and belief different from those of Christianity.  These are the circular

Cairns which are found in various parts, and which seem to have been of

Druidical origin.  It is in reference to all these remains of ancient religion

that Johnson exclaims, “That man is little to be envied whose patriotism would

not gain force upon the plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow

warmer amid the ruins of Iona.”

 

In the Lord of the Isles, Scott beautifully contrasts the church on Iona

with the cave of Staffa, opposite -

 

     “Nature herself, it seemed, would raise

     A minster to her Maker’s praise!

     Not for a meaner use ascend

     Her columns, or her arches bend;

     Nor of a theme less solemn tells

     That mighty surge that ebbs and swells,

     And still between each awful pause,

     From the high vault an answer draws,

     In varied tone, prolonged and high,

     That mocks the organ’s melody;

     Nor doth its entrance front in vain

     To old Iona’s holy fane,

     That Nature’s voice might seem to say,

     Well hast thou done, frail child of clay

     Thy humble powers that stately shrine

     Tasked high and hard – but witness mine.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Top UK sports prosecutor calls on football authorities to crackdown on racist abuses

Monday, July 30th, 2012

Nick Hawkins, the lead sports prosecutor for the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS), said it was unacceptable for the chants brushed aside because stars were paid lots of money to “take it”.

He warned that clubs who fail to act against abuses could be forced to play games behind closed doors or be docked points to make them pay financially, while fans could be banned for life.

His warning comes after a student was jailed for mocking footballer Fabrice Muamba on Twitter after he collapsed during a match, The Daily Star reports.

He stressed that better education is needed to show “what not to do and how easy it is to detect and prosecute these offences”.

Hawkins also urged sports authorities “to do more about inappropriate chanting and to educate that the excuse, ‘it’s football so it’s different’, is just wrong”.

He also called “for the authorities to take action about clubs that fail to do so if these abusive chants become a habit”.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Twitter, John Terry and the Sunshine Tigers: how racism dogs the world game

Monday, July 16th, 2012

As iconic sporting images go, there are few finer specimens than the picture of Brazilian genius Pele shaking hands with England captain Bobby Moore, after their teams battled to a 1-0 victory for Brazil during the 1970 World Cup (video below).

The game is remembered as soccer’s greatest ever stalemate. History’s most magnificent striker (Pele) faced its most artistic central defender (Moore) in a showcase of skill that became a thing of beauty, ending . More beautiful still, the final, shirtless embrace between Pele and Moore; a wordless confirmation of soccer’s capacity to overcome racial divisions.

After all, soccer had once stopped a war. When German and Allied troops decided to hold an unsanctioned cease-fire in Christmas 1914, the most famous symbol of the impromptu camaraderie, that at least held a candle of hope for humanity’s future, was an impromptu game of football held in no man’s land.

The point is, when people have contemplated world peace, they’ve quite often either been kicking a ball around, or watching other people playing.

Enhanced by Zemanta

banned castle negro cartoon

Thursday, June 14th, 2012

banned castle negro cartoon

Enhanced by Zemanta

Football fans to be banned from Northampton town centre if Euro 2012 trouble flares

Thursday, June 14th, 2012

Police have warned football fans who misbehave during England’s next match in Euro 2012 will be banned from the town centre.

 

Landlords are expecting a busy night on Friday when England take on Sweden in the second match of the tournament, being staged in Poland and Ukraine.

Police have said they will not tolerate those who misbehave and will use powers under Section 27 of the Violent Crime Reduction Act 2006 to ban them from the town for 48 hours.

Chief Superintendent Simon Blatchly, who is leading the local policing operation around Euro 2012, said: “The tournament has produced some exciting games with plenty of passion and local football fans have entered into the spirit of the occasion to date.

“We want fans of all nationalities to have a great time and enjoy watching their team play but we also need to remind them to stay safe and drink responsibly.

“If you cheer your team on and behave in a way that enables everyone watching you with you to enter into the festival spirit, you won’t hear from my officers.

“However, if you become abusive and hostile and commit crimes or anti-social behaviour, then we will come down on you very hard indeed.

“We have several powers available to us to deal with those who step out of line and we will not tolerate drunks misbehaving or spoiling for a fight in our town centres.

“Watch the amount you drink and do not drink and drive under any circumstances. Be aware of your circumstances at all times and make sure you take care of yourself when out and about.”

Enhanced by Zemanta

The fear of ‘racist’ Ukraine is itself xenophobic

Tuesday, May 29th, 2012

The irony of the campaign to boycott the Euro 2012 football championships in Ukraine is so huge it is difficult to compute. Here is a lobby which presents itself as anti-racist, keen only to protect English footballers and fans from being racially abused in Ukraine, yet which simultaneously depicts that Eastern European nation as a weird hotbed of backward attitudes. Here’s a movement which publicly frowns upon expressions of racism, yet which treats Ukraine in a manner similar to when Victorian colonialists rolled up in an African backwater and stared in bewilderment at its strange-tongued natives. The boycott campaign confirms that modern anti-racism is, in the irony to end all ironies, more about expressing one’s superiority over uneducated peoples than it is about securing proper equality.

Under the banner of “anti-racism”, some startlingly sweeping statements are being made about Ukraine by those who think football fans should steer clear of the Euro 2012 taking place there next month. Apparently, racism is an “endemic social problem” in Ukraine, a country “notorious for its extremist yobs”, says the Sun. If you believe the Sun, decent Brits could soon find themselves refighting the Second World War in stadiums in Ukraine – apparently “neo-Nazi paramilitaries” are “drill[ing] thugs in unarmed combat, knife-fighting and use of rifles and pistols” in order to “wreak havoc” during Euro 2012. The Sun’s report was accompanied by a photo of four rather sad-looking Ukrainian men in a forest, wearing pseudo-militaristic uniforms. Four blokes do not a Fourth Reich make.

When the family of black England player Theo Walcott said they wouldn’t be attending Euro 2012, because they feared racist attack, the media went into anti-Ukraine overdrive. Like every other country in the world, Ukraine no doubt has some nasty racists – but British hacks have continually depicted the entire nation as a cesspit of xenophobic attitudes. “Nazi mob lies in wait for England fans”, says another newspaper hysterically, telling us, once again, that racism is “endemic” in Ukraine. The Foreign Office has issued the kind of statement it normally only puts out for non-European countries, telling travellers of “Asian or Afro-Caribbean descent” that they should take “extra care”. Former Arsenal player Sol Campbell took this fear of strange Ukraine to its logical conclusion when he warned English fans not to go to Euro 2012 because “you could end up coming back in a coffin”. He says Ukraine should never have been awarded Euro 2012 in the first place, because if you’re a racist country then “you do not deserve these prestigious tournaments”.

In short, tournaments should only be held in civilised countries, here in England perhaps, rather than in those former Soviet entities where people are dumb and prejudiced and one Nazi salute away from recreating fascism. The media tells us that some Ukrainian football fans look upon black players as “savages”, and I’m sure that’s true. But in online discussion boards across Blighty, Ukrainians are frequently referred to by us as “savages”, who live in a “very backward country”. What we’re really witnessing in the hysteria about Ukrainian attitudes is the expression of a prejudice against strange Easterners disguised as an enlightened anti-racist sentiment. If it is stupid for small numbers of Ukrainian football followers to sneer at blacks and Asians, it is also stupid for the British media to sneer at the whole of Ukraine. Indeed, trying to demonstrate one’s anti-racist credentials through being fairly xenophobic about allegedly racist Easterners – that is the dumbest stance of all.

Enhanced by Zemanta

First Results of the V-1 Major Impact, Inadequate Defences by Harald Jansen

Friday, May 18th, 2012

How has the war changed as a result of the advent of the V-1? The whole world is asking this question. New names, thoughts, and combinations result from the device, which day and night thunders down with fiery blows on the city on the Thames. The twilight of uncertainty prevails. Will it be overcome in a few days or weeks, or will a new weapon develop from it, just as happened with the airplane between the last war and this one?

There is a new wheel in the machinery of war, the river is flowing in a different direction. The first news was a sensation thoughout the world. Over the thundering of this weapon, we see how it changes all previous tactical considerations.

It was an evening a few weeks before the first use of this weapon. We were sitting on the old terrace of a chateau. German formations heading toward England thundered above us. We were quiet as we listened to them. Finally a captain who had seen duty in the last war shook his head thoughtfully and said: “London is like a large spider’s web. A fifth of all Englishmen live there, and it has a high percentage of its critical industry. It can be wounded. Our cities are webs, too, but not as sensitive, since none of them has so central a place in population or industry. We can hit part of the dock facilities with our incendiary and explosive bombs, but repair work on the web will begin the next day. Our cities are just as resilient! The air war will be inadequate as long as it is not constant, every hour, every minute. When our new explosives are ready to hit London, one will tear a gap in the web, to be followed immediately by another, bringing traffic to a halt. The spider of this large web must not be allowed to rest.”

Weeks passed and now the missiles fly overhead. The invasion concentrated men and material in the southeast of the island, and increased their vulnerability. Even in the first week, there was a division of labor between German warplanes and the new weapon. The long-range bombers received an ally. The V-1 took its place. This is unsettling for our opponents, and represents a two-fold danger to their war effort, unless they find a defense as quickly as possible.

The enemy’s propaganda is based on the glories of four-motored bombers, on the fanfare of air power and shouts of triumph over burning German cities. The citizens of London were told: “1940 will not be repeated. The Germans can no longer do anything to us.” Still, they built the densest system of flak in the empire around London during the past five years.

The extent of the use of the new weapon is not yet clear, but it is certain that it has had a powerful effect on enemy morale, making the mass’s power of resistance sensitive and uncertain. The masses were living in expectation of rapid victory. They had pleasant dreams of having only 100 yards to go, when suddenly they hit a new wall. At first they were blinded, poking around looking for a way to eliminate the problem. Overnight the invasion leadership has a second front — the V-1 front. It is graver, more serious than a daily bombing attack on London. Since the ordinary means of defense failed, a significant part of their air force must be redirected to search for the launching pads. Scouts, fighters, fighter-bombers and four-motored bombers have been diverted, taking them away from the task of supporting the ground forces. While the German air force is free to attack enemy bridgeheads, the enemy must divert his forces from the west. The Anglo-American air forces have to fight on two different fronts, located several hundred kilometers apart.

There is a second question. How do the new warheads compare with the bombs of long-range bombers? A terror attack by a large fleet of bombers follows a regular pattern. A sector in a city is attacked. It receives the mass of bombs. Why? Fire and ruins seal off a part of the city, rendering assistance impossible. There is a clear purpose. Frequently three or four incendiary bombs land next to each other, even though one would be sufficient.

During an air attack, the population stays in basements and shelters while the incendiary and explosive bombs fall above them. Once the all-clear sounds, however, they are free once again to move about. That is why air attacks are “incomplete.” Individuals now form a community that battles the fires, moves aside the rubble, and prepares further defenses. To fight this, the Anglo-American terror specialists used delayed action bombs. But they, too, are quickly neutralized by bomb experts. This makes the impact of the new weapon clear.

It is clear that defending one’s air space takes more manpower than attacking it does. Any new tactical weapon that gives the enemy any chance to resist at all — as for example is the case with the V-1, which can be seen in flight — puts an enormous burden on the defender.

Consider an example. 300 German bombers with crews totaling 1200 men attack London. We naturally do not know the exact strength of the night fighters that oppose them, but it probably is about the same numerically. To that must be added the ground defense forces, an estimated 100,000 to 150,000 troops. It takes about the same resources to manufacture the anti-aircraft shells as it takes to manufacture the German bombs.

Nonetheless the enemy has to admit that London’s air defenses, its best technology, its constant practice, and its best ideas have failed to deal with German tactics. This is clear proof that a numerically inferior air force can keep forces ten to a hundred times stronger in check, holding down large enemy forces.

What does that have to do with the new German warheads? The enemy has naturally observed the flight paths of the warheads, even photographed them, and learned that their speed is remarkably high. He has concluded the flight paths are more like those of aircraft than artillery shells. That means that he has to devote his full defensive capacity to opposing the secret weapons. He has been forced to establish a chain of flak boats along his coast. From the coast to London, the tracers of light and medium flak fill the sky and the shells flash. At night the lights of night fighters are visible, during the day the fastest Spitfires are in action. A few months back Eisenhower told his pilots: “You’ll get no sleep for days and weeks. You must give everything you have for the invasion.” These plans have collapsed. If the V-1’s only goal had been to disrupt the enemy’s plans, it would be well on the way to success.

London announces that the following is known:

The new warheads fly at elevations between 500 and 2000 meters. It is a steerable device resembling an airplane. The “flying robots” have engines that can be heard a long way off and leave a trail visible at a considerable distance against a clear sky.

That is sufficient to justify the greatest defensive efforts. Several train loads of shells have been fired, to no avail. But one has to shoot to calm the population. This is terribly expensive. But the German fire goes on day and night, interrupted by powerful explosions in the city, and something must be done. Even he who is convinced that the defensive fire accomplishes nothing will have to take shelter from the falling flak.

One can draw these conclusions after the first weeks:

  1. British-American air activity has been interrupted by diverting major forces along the V-1 flight paths;
  2. Despite extremely active use of flak, the enormous defensive machinery has completely and absolutely failed;
  3. The transportation system and economic life in London and the southeast of England has been seriously disrupted;

And there is the unsettling knowledge that there now is the ability to attack the island without enormous and costly air armadas. Who can stop the weapon from immediately seeking out the most important target: London!

It is certainly true that an omnipotent miracle weapon will always remain the dream of uncombative souls. As a young lieutenant said as he rapped his knuckles against the steel flank of the new weapon: “We want to announce that you have done a lot to us. Now it is time to turn back the clock.” A corporal standing next to him nodded. His family was buried by bombs in Berlin. They and others had worked 73 hours without sleeping. There were deep bags under their eyes. Then they loaded the warhead. It is this spirit, and German genius, that will determine the outcome of this war for our existence.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Revenge blows

Saturday, May 5th, 2012

For three months, the Führer watched the criminal insanity of British air pirates. He gave the English people time to come to their senses and their catastrophic politicians time to see reason. But when finally the terror became ever more bold and their demands ever more impudent, the Führer gave the order to strike back. On 8 November 1940, the Führer said:

“You know that I have proposed to the world for years the cessation of bombing warfare, especially against civilian populations. Probably aware of what would come, England refused. Democracies are always clairvoyant. Well and good. Despite that, I have never waged war against civilians in this war. I allowed no night attacks on Polish cities. One cannot target precisely at night. I generally allowed attacks only during the day, and always against military targets. I did the same in Norway. I did the same in Holland, Belgium and France. Then it suddenly occurred to Mr. Churchill to attack the German civilian population at night. You know how patient I am. I watched for eight days. They dropped bombs on the people of the Rhine. They dropped bombs on the people of Westphalia. I watched for another fourteen days. I thought that the man was crazy. He was waging a war that could only destroy England. I waited over three months, but then one day I gave the order. I will take up the battle.”

After England’s first satellites fell, the British attempted, with the help of their notorious Secret Service, to bring about an explosion in the Balkan powder keg. Using the shortsightedness of a small clique in Belgrade, they succeeded in involving Yugoslavia and Greece in the war. But these peoples waited in vain for military assistance, as had all of England’s other allies. They, too, rapidly collapsed under the blows of the German military. Thus England lost its last positions on the Continent.

During all these months, Great Britain was able to do nothing else in its waging of the war than to stubbornly continue its air terror against German cities and villages. But the British air force was unable to carry on its program of annihilation, since it was struck by the ceaseless revenge blows of the German air force.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Union Of Denmark, Sweden, And Norway

Friday, April 20th, 2012

Canute the Great, King of England and Denmark, by successful wars added
almost the whole of Norway to his dominions. At his death in 1035 his
kingdoms were divided, and fell into anarchy and discord for two centuries,
until the tyrant Black Geert, who had driven out Christopher II, and been for
fourteen years the virtual sovereign of Denmark, was assassinated by the
Danish patriot Niels Ebbeson.

Christopher’s third son, Waldemar, surnamed Atterdag, because he used to
say when a misfortune happened, “To-morrow it is again day,” was recalled from
Bavaria and crowned king as Waldemar IV. He commenced at once with vigor and
marked success the improvement of the internal conditions of the country, and
strove to encompass his chief ambition, the reunion of the ancient Danish
possessions.

By marrying his daughter Margaret to Hakon VI, King of Norway and son of
Magnus Smek, King of Sweden, Waldemar laid a basis for a junction of the three
great Scandinavian kingdoms. The union was realized under the administration
of his illustrious and sagacious daughter, Margaret, known as the “Semiramis
of the North.”

Waldemar Atterdag left no direct male issue. But his two grandsons,
Albert the Younger, of Mecklenburg, a son of Ingeborg, Waldemar’s eldest
daughter, and of Henry of Mecklenburg; and Olaf, a son of Margaret, his
younger daughter, and of Hakon VI of Norway, were now claiming the hereditary
succession to the throne. One party declared for Olaf, but, as he was the son
of the younger daughter, his claim was very doubtful. But because the house
of Mecklenburg had acted with hostility toward Denmark, and Olaf had
expectation of Norway and claims to the crown of Sweden, as a grandson of
Magnus Smek, Denmark was, by his election, in hopes of one day seeing the
three crowns united on the same head. It was therefore not long before this
important affair was determined. The preference was given Olaf, who, although
only six years of age, was, under the name of Olaf V, elected king of Denmark,
under the guardianship of Margaret his mother; and after the death of his
father Hakon VI, he became also king of Norway, the two kingdoms thus being
united. This union, till the expiration of four hundred and thirty-four
years, was not dissolved. When Olaf V, seven years after, died in Falsterbo,
both kingdoms elected Margaret their queen, though custom had not yet
authorized the election of a female.

During the reign of this great Princess, who deservedly has been called
the “Semiramis of the North,” Denmark and Norway exercised in Europe an
influence the effects of which were long felt throughout the Scandinavian
countries with their vast extent and rival races. She united wisdom and
policy with courage and determination, had strength of mind to preserve her
rectitude without deviation, and her efforts were crowned by divine Providence
with success. She is justly considered one of the most illustrious female
rulers in history. Her renown even reached the Byzantine emperor Emanuel
Palaeologus, who called her Regina sine exemplo maxima. But under her
successors – destitute of her high sense of duty, great ability, and
consistent virtue – her triumphs proved a snare instead of a blessing. The
great union she created dissolved in a short time, and its downfall was as
sudden as its elevation had been extraordinary. She was born in 1353. Her
father was, as we have seen, Waldemar Atterdag, her mother Queen Hedevig, and
she became queen of Denmark and Norway in 1387. She was no sooner elected
queen of Denmark, and homaged on the hill of Sliparehog, near Lund, in
Ringsted, Odensee, and Wiborg, than she sailed to Norway to receive their
homage. But a remarkable occurrence is mentioned by historians as occurring
about this time. A report prevailed that King Olaf, the Queen’s son, was not
dead; it was propagated by the nobility, and very likely set on foot by them,
in order to punish Margaret for her liberality to the clergy. An impostor
claimed the crown of Denmark and Norway, and gained credit every day by making
discoveries which could only be known to Olaf and his mother. Margaret,
however, proved him to be a son of Olaf’s nurse. Olaf had a large wart
between his shoulders – a mark which did not appear on the impostor. The false
Olaf was seized, broken on the wheel, and publicly burned at a place between
Falsterbo and Skanor, in Sweden, and Margaret continued uninterruptedly her
regency.

But the Queen, not wishing to contract a new marriage, and comprehending
the importance of having a successor elected to the throne, proposed her
nephew, Eric, Duke of Pomerania. This proposal the clergy and nobility
approved, and they elected him to be king of Denmark and Norway after
Margaret’s death. Meanwhile Albert, King of Sweden, having, on account of his
preference given to German favorites, incurred the hatred of his people, the
Swedes requested Margaret to assist them against him, which she promised to do
if they in return would make her queen of Sweden. Moreover, Albert had highly
offended the Danish Queen; had, though hardly able to govern his own kingdom,
assumed the title “king of Denmark,” and laid claim to Norway, too; and when
she blamed him for it he had answered her disdainfully. In a letter he had
used foul and abusive language, calling her “a king without breeches,” and the
“abbot’s concubine” (abbedfrillen), on account of her particular attachment to
a certain abbot of Soro, who was her spiritual director. It is, however,
true, that her intimacy with this monk gave room for some suspicion that her
privacies with him were not all employed about the care of her soul.
Afterward, to ridicule her yet more, King Albert sent her a hone to sharpen
her needles, and swore not to put on his nightcap until she had yielded to
him. But under perilous circumstances Margaret was never at a loss how to
act. She acted here with the utmost prudence, trying first to gain the favor
of the peers of the state, and solemnly promising to rule according to the
Swedish laws. War now broke out between Albert and Margaret, whose army was
commanded by Jvar Lykke. The encounter of the two armies – about twelve
thousand men on each side – took place at Falkoping, September 21, 1388. A
furious battle was fought, in which the victory for a long while hung in
suspense. But Margaret’s good fortune prevailed; Albert was routed and his
army cut to pieces, and Margaret was now mistress of Sweden.

While this was passing, the Queen tarried in Wordingborg Sjelland,
ardently desiring to learn the result. But no sooner did she hear that the
victory was gained, and the Swedish King and his son Eric taken prisoners,
than she hastened to Bahus, in Sweden, where the King and his son were brought
before her. Lost in joy and amazement at having her enemy in her power, the
Queen now retorted upon King Albert with revilings, and she made him wear a
large nightcap of paper – a retaliation proportioned to his offensive words.
He and his son were thereupon brought to Lindholm, a castle in Skane, where
they were kept prisoners for seven years. When they entered the castle, a
dark, square room was assigned them, and when the King said, “I hope that this
torture against a crowned head will only last a few days,” the jailer replied:
“I grieve to say that the Queen’s orders are to the contrary; anger not the
Queen by any bravado, else you will be placed in the irons, and if these fail
we can have recourse to sharper means.” To the excessive self-love,
intemperance, conceitedness, and want of foresight which had characterized all
his actions, the unhappy Albert had to ascribe his present situation.

The year following, the Queen stormed the important city of Calmar, yet
siding with the imprisoned King. She made several wise alliances with Richard
II of England, and other potentates, and concluded a truce for two years with
the princes of Mecklenburg, and the cities of Rostock and Wismar, which had
begun to raise fresh levies in favor of the unfortunate Albert. This period
expired, she laid siege to Stockholm and other fortified places, of which
John, Duke of Mecklenburg, and other friends of the imprisoned King had become
masters. But the cause of Albert was little forwarded, and Margaret gained
ground every day. She compelled the capital to surrender to her and do homage
to her as its sovereign; whereafter a peremptory peace was concluded on Good
Friday, which restored tranquillity to the three kingdoms. The imprisoned King
and his son were delivered up to the Hanseatic towns, and they obtained their
liberty for sixty thousand ounces of silver, upon condition that they should
resign all claims to Sweden if the amount were not paid within three years.
As soon as the King and his son were delivered to the deputies, they solemnly
swore to a strict observance of this article, the Hanse towns engaging
themselves to guarantee the treaty. The money, however, not being paid by the
stipulated time, Margaret became undisputed sovereign of Sweden, the third
Scandinavian kingdom.

About this time the “Victuals Brethren,” so called because they brought
victuals from the Hanse towns to Stockholm while besieged, began to imperil
Denmark, plundering the Danish and Norwegian coasts, and destroying all
commercial business along the Baltic. But Margaret ordered the harbors of the
maritime towns to be blockaded, thus putting a quick stop to their cruelties
and piracies. The Queen’s principal care was now to visit the different
provinces, to administer justice and redress grievances of every kind. Among
other salutary regulations, the affairs of commerce were not forgotten. It
was, for instance, decreed that all manner of assistance should be given to
foreign merchants and sailors, particularly in case of misfortune and
shipwreck, without expectation of reward; and that all pirates should be
treated with the greatest rigor.

Eric of Pomerania was, as we have said, elected to be king of Denmark and
Norway after Margaret’s death. But wishing to have him also elected her
successor to the Swedish throne, Margaret brought him to Sweden, and
introduced him to the deputies, one by one, whom she requested to confirm his
election to the succession. The majesty of the Queen’s person, the strength
of her arguments, and the sweetness of her eloquence gained over the deputies,
who, on July 22, 1396, elected him at Morastone by Upsala, to succeed her also
in Sweden. But Margaret, soon discovering his inability and impetuousness,
took pains to remedy these defects, as much as possible, by procuring for him
as a wife the intelligent and virtuous princess Philippa, a daughter of Henry
V of England, and shortly after had got Catharine, her niece and Eric’s
sister, married to Prince John, a son of the German emperor Ruprecht; John
being promised the Scandinavian crowns if Eric of Pomerania should die
childless. Thus having strengthened and consolidated her power by influential
connections and relationships, the Queen, upon whose head the three northern
crowns were actually united, now proceeded to realize the great plan she had
long cherished – to get a fundamental law established for a perpetual union of
the three large Scandinavian kingdoms. The realization of this purpose
immortalized her, securing for her the admiration of the world, whose most
eminent historians do not hesitate to surname her the “Great,” and to compare
her with the loftiest Greek and Roman heroes and statesmen.

On June 17, 1397, Margaret summoned to an assembly at Calmar, in the
province of Smaland, Sweden, the clergy and the nobility of Denmark, Norway,
and Sweden, and established, by their aid and consent, a fundamental law. This
was the law so celebrated in the North under the name of the “Union of
Calmar,” and which afterward gave birth to wars between Sweden and Denmark
that lasted a whole century. It consisted of three articles. The first
provided that the three kingdoms should thenceforward have but one and the
same king, who was to be chosen successively by each of the kingdoms. The
second article imposed upon the sovereign the obligation of dividing his time
equally between the three kingdoms. The third, and most important, decreed
that each kingdom should retain its own laws, customs, senate, and privileges
of every kind; that the highest officers should be natives; that any alliance
concluded with foreign potentates should be obligatory upon all three kingdoms
when approved by the council of one kingdom; and that, after the death of the
King, his eldest son, or, if the King died childless, then another wise,
intelligent, and able prince, should be chosen common monarch; and if anyone,
because of high treason, was banished from one kingdom, then he should be
banished from them all. A month after, on the Queen’s birthday, July 13th, a
legitimate charter was drawn up, to which the Queen subscribed and put her
seal; on which occasion Eric of Pomerania was anointed and crowned by the
archbishops of Upsala and Lund as king of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. The Te
Deum was sung in the churches of Calmar, the assembly crying out: “Haecce unio
esto perpetua! Longe, longe, longe, vivat Margarethe, regina Daniae,
Norvegiae et Sveciae!”

This strict union of the three large states became a potent bulwark for
their security, and made them, in more than one century, the arbiter of the
European system; the three nations of the northern peninsula presenting a
compact and united front, that could bid defiance to any foreign aggression.

Although Eric of Pomerania was elected king, and in 1407 passed his
minority, Margaret continued governing until the day of her death. “You have
done all well,” wrote the people to her, “and we value your services so highly
that we would gladly grant you everything.” The union of the three
Scandinavian kingdoms having been established in Calmar, all her efforts were
now aimed at regaining the duchy of Schleswig, which circumstances had
compelled her to resign to Gerhard IV, Count of Holstein. For such a reunion
with Schleswig a favorable opportunity appeared, when Gerhard was killed in an
expedition against the Ditmarshers, leaving behind three sons in minority.
Elizabeth, Gerhard’s widow, fled to Margaret for succor against her violent
brother-in-law, Bishop Henry of Osnabrueck. Margaret, fond of fishing in foul
water, was very willing to help her, but availed herself of the opportunity to
annex successively different parts of Schleswig.

The dethroned Swedish King, Albert, never able to forget his anger toward
Margaret or her severity against him, and continually cherishing a hope of
reascending the Swedish throne, and considering the Union of Calmar a breach
of peace, contrived to make the Swedish people displeased with her, and
thought it a suitable time to revolt from her dominion. He established a
strong camp before Visby, the capital of the island of Gulland, having six
thousand foot and, at some distance, nine thousand horse. Determined to
engage before their junction could take place, the Queen’s commander-in-chief,
Abraham Broder, immediately advanced until in sight of the enemy, and then
endeavored to gain possession of Visby and the ground near by. In this he was
so far successful that Albert and his army had to leave the camp and conclude
a truce. But nevertheless he did not till after a lapse of seven years give
up his hope of remounting the throne of Sweden, making a final peace with
Margaret, and henceforward living in Gadebush, Mecklenburg, where in 1412 he
closed his inglorious life.

Soon after, October 27th, Queen Margaret died on board a ship in the
harbor of Flensburg, at the age of fifty-nine, after an active and notable
reign of thirty-seven years. Her funeral was attended with the greatest
solemnity, and her corpse was brought to the Cathedral of Roeskilde, where
Eric of Pomerania, her successor, in 1423, caused her likeness to be carved in
alabaster. Her acts show her character. She displayed judiciousness united
with circumspection; wisdom in devising plans, and perseverance in executing
them; skill in gaining the confidence of the clergy and peasantry, and thereby
counterbalancing the imperious nobility. On the whole she applied herself to
the civilization of her three kingdoms, and to their improvement by excellent
laws, the great aim of which was to undermine the nobility. She pursued the
plan of her great father to recall all rights to the crown lands, which during
the reign of her weak and inefficient predecessors had been granted to the
nobility. The prosecution of this plan for the perfect subversion of the
feudal aristocracy was unfortunately interrupted by her death; her imprudent
and weak successor having no power to restrain the turbulent spirit of a
factious nobility.

Enhanced by Zemanta

The History Of France Part Six

Monday, April 16th, 2012

There still remained five great and ancient fiefs of the French crown;
Champagne, Guienne, Flanders, Burgundy, and Brittany. But Philip IV. [A.D.
1285], usually called the Fair, married the heiress of the first, a little
before his father’s death; and although he governed that county in her name
without pretending to reunite it to the royal domain, it was, at least in a
political sense, no longer a part of the feudal body. With some of his other
vassals Philip used more violent methods. A parallel might be drawn between
this prince and Philip Augustus. But while in ambition, violence of temper
and unprincipled rapacity, as well as in the success of their attempts to
establish an absolute authority, they may be considered as nearly equal, we
may remark this difference, that Philip the Fair, who was destitute of
military talents, gained those ends by dissimulation which his predecessor had
reached by force.

The duchy of Guienne, though somewhat abridged of its original extent,
was still by far the most considerable of the French fiefs, even independently
of its connection with England. ^i Philip, by dint of perfidy, and by the
egregious incapacity of Edmund, brother of Edward I., contrived to obtain, and
to keep for several years, the possession of this great province. A quarrel
among some French and English sailors having provoked retaliation, till a sort
of piratical war commenced between their respective countries, [A.D. 1292]
Edward, as Duke of Guienne, was summoned into the king’s court to answer for
the trespass of his subjects. Upon this he despatched his brother to settle
terms of reconciliation, with fuller powers than should have been intrusted to
so credulous a negotiator. Philip so outwitted this prince, through a
fictitious treaty, as to procure from him the surrender of all the fortresses
in Guienne. He then threw off the mask, and after again summoning Edward to
appear, pronounced the confiscation of his fief. ^j This business is the
greatest blemish in the political character of Edward. But his eagerness
about the acquisition of Scotland rendered him less sensible to the danger of
a possession in many respects more valuable; and the spirit of resistance
among the English nobility, which his arbitrary measures had provoked, broke
out very opportunely for Philip, to thwart every effort for the recovery of
Guienne by arms. [A.D. 1303.] But after repeated suspensions of hostilities a
treaty was finally concluded, by which Philip restored the province, on the
agreement of a marriage between his daughter Isabel and the heir of England.

[Footnote i: Philip was highly offended that instruments made in Guienne
should be dated by the year of Edward's reign, and not of his own. This
almost sole badge of sovereignty had been preserved by the kings of France
during all the feudal ages. A struggle took place about it, which is recorded
in a curious letter from John de Greilli to Edward. The French court at last
consented to let dates be thus expressed: Actum fuit, regnante P. rege
Franciae, E. rege Angliae tenente ducatum Aquitaniae. Several precedents were
shown by the English where the counts of Toulouse had used the form. Regnante
A. Comite Tolosae. Rymer, t. ii. p. 1083. As this is the first time that I
quote Rymer, it may be proper to observe that my references are to the London
edition, the paging of which is preserved on the margin of that printed at the
Hague.]

[Footnote j: In the view I have taken of this transaction I have been guided
by several instruments in Rymer, which leave no doubt on my mind. Velly of
course represents the matter more favorably for Philip.]

To this restitution he was chiefly induced by the ill success that
attended his arms in Flanders, another of the great fiefs which this ambitious
monarch had endeavored to confiscate. We have not, perhaps, as clear evidence
of the original injustice of his proceedings towards the Count of Flanders as
in the case of Guienne; but he certainly twice detained his person, once after
drawing him on some pretext to his court, and again, in violation of the faith
pledged by his generals. The Flemings made, however, so vigorous a
resistance, that Philip was unable to reduce that small country; and in one
famous battle at Courtray they discomfited a powerful army with that utter
loss and ignominy to which the undisciplined impetuosity of the French nobles
was pre-eminently exposed. ^k [A.D. 1302.]

[Footnote k: The Flemings took at Courtray 4000 pair of gilt spurs, which were
only worn by knights. These Velly, happily enough, compares to Hannibal's
three bushels of gold rings at Cannae.]

Two other acquisitions of Philip the Fair deserve notice; that of the
counties of Angouleme and La Marche, upon a sentence of forfeiture (and, as it
seems, a very harsh one) passed against the reigning count; and that of the
city of Lyons, and its adjacent territory, which had not even feudally been
subject to the crown of France for more than three hundred years. Lyons was
the dowry of Matilda, daughter of Louis IV., on her marriage with Conrad, King
of Burgundy, and was bequeathed with the rest of that kingdom by Rodolph, in
1032, to the empire. Frederic Barbarossa conferred upon the Archbishop of
Lyons all regalian rights over the city, with the title of Imperial Vicar.
France seems to have had no concern with it, till St. Louis was called in as a
mediator in disputes between the chapter and the city, during a vacancy of the
see, and took the exercise of jurisdiction upon himself for the time. Philip
III., having been chosen arbitrator in similar circumstances, insisted, before
he would restore the jurisdiction, upon an oath of fealty from the new
archbishop. This oath, which could be demanded, it seems, by no right but that
of force, continued to be taken, till, in 1310, an archbishop resisting what
he had thought an usurpation, the city was besieged by Philip IV., and, the
inhabitants not being unwilling to submit, was finally united to the French
crown. ^l

[Footnote l: Velly, t. vii. p. 404. For a more precise account of the
political dependence of Lyons and its district, see L'Art de verifier les
Dates, t. ii. p. 469.]

Philip the Fair left three sons, who successively reigned in France;
Louis, surnamed Hutin [Louis X., A.D. 1314], Philip the Long, and Charles the
Fair; with a daughter, Isabel, married to Edward II. of England. ^m Louis, the
eldest, survived his father little more than a year, leaving one daughter, and
his queen pregnant. The circumstances that ensued require to be accurately
stated. Louis had possessed, in right of his mother, the kingdom of Navarre,
with the counties of Champagne and Brie. Upon his death, Philip, his next
brother [Philip V., A.D. 1315], assumed the regency both of France and
Navarre; and not long afterwards entered into a treaty with Eudes, Duke of
Burgundy, uncle of the Princess Jane, Louis’ daughter, by which her eventual
rights to the succession were to be regulated. It was agreed that, in case
the queen should be delivered of a daughter, these two princesses, or the
survivor of them, should take the grandmother’s inheritance, Navarre and
Champagne, on releasing all claim to the throne of France. But this was not
to take place till their age of consent, when, if they should refuse to make
such renunciation, their claim was to remain, and right to be done to them
therein; but, in return, the release made by Philip of Navarre and Champagne
was to be null. In the meantime, he was to hold the government of France,
Navarre, and Champagne, receiving homage of vassals in all these countries as
governor; saving the right of a male heir to the late king, in the event of
whose birth the treaty was not to take effect. ^n

[Footnote m: [Note XV.]]

[Footnote n: Hist. de Charles le Mauvais par Secousse, vol. ii. p. 2.]

This convention was made on the 17th of July, 1316; and on the 15th of
November the queen brought into the world a son, John I. (as some called him),
who died in four days. ^o The conditional treaty was now become absolute; in
spirit, at least, if any cavil might be raised about the expression; and
Philip was, by his own agreement, precluded from taking any other title than
that of regent or governor, until the princess Jane should attain the age to
concur in or disclaim the provisional contract of her uncle. Instead of this,
however, he procured himself to be consecrated at Rheims; though, on account
of the avowed opposition of the Duke of Burgundy, and even of his own brother
Charles, it was thought prudent to shut the gates during the ceremony, and to
dispose guards throughout the town. Upon his return to Paris, an assembly
composed of prelates, barons, and burgesses of that city, was convened, who
acknowledged him as their lawful sovereign, and, if we may believe an
historian, expressly declared that a woman was incapable of succeeding to the
crown of France. ^p The Duke of Burgundy, however, made a show of supporting
his niece’s interests, till, tempted by the prospect of a marriage with the
daughter of Philip, he shamefully betrayed her cause, and gave up in her name,
for an inconsiderable pension, not only her disputed claim to the whole
monarchy, but her unquestionable right to Navarre and Champagne. ^q I have
been rather minute in stating these details, because the transaction is
misrepresented by every historian, not excepting those who have written since
the publication of the documents which illustrate it. ^r

[Footnote o: Ancient writers, Sismondi tells us (ix. 344), do not call this
infant anything but the child who was to be king; the maxim of later times,
"Le roi ne meurt pas," was unknown. I suspect, nevertheless, that the strict
hereditary succession was better recognized before this time than Sismondi
here admits; compare what he says afterwards of a period very little later,
vol. xi. 6.]

[Footnote p: Tunc etiam declaratum fuit, quod in regno Franciae mulier non
succedit. Contin. Gul. Nangis, in Spicilegio d'Achery, tom. iii. This monk,
without talents, and probably without private information, is the sole
contemporary historian of this important period. He describes the assembly
which confirmed Philip's possession of the crown; - quamplures proceres et
regni nobiles ac magnates una cum plerisque praelatis et burgensibus
Parisiensis civitatis.]

[Footnote q: Hist. de Charles le Mauvais, t. ii. p. 6. Jane, and her husband
the Count of Evreux, recovered Navarre, after the death of Charles the Fair.]

[Footnote r: Velly, who gives several proofs of disingenuousness in this part
of history, mutilates the treaty of the 17th of July, 1316, in order to
conceal Philip the Long's breach of faith towards his niece.]

In this contest, every way memorable, but especially on account of that
which sprung out of it, the exclusion of females from the throne of France was
first publicly discussed. The French writers almost unanimously concur in
asserting that such an exclusion was built upon a fundamental maxim of their
government. No written law, nor even, as far as I know, the direct testimony
of any ancient writer, has been brought forward to confirm this position. For
as to the text of the Salic law, which was frequently quoted, and has indeed
given a name to this exclusion of females, it can only by a doubtful and
refined analogy be considered as bearing any relation to the succession of the
crown. It is certain nevertheless that, from the time of Clovis, no woman had
ever reigned in France; and although not an instance of a sole heiress had
occurred before, yet some of the Merovingian kings left daughters, who might,
if not rendered incapable by their sex, have shared with their brothers in
partitions then commonly made. ^s But, on the other hand, these times were
gone quite out of memory, and France had much in the analogy of her existing
usages to reconcile her to a female reign. The crown resembled a great fief;
and the great fiefs might universally descend to women. Even at the
consecration of Philip himself, Maud, Countess of Artois, held the crown over
his head among the other peers. ^t And it was scarcely beyond the recollection
of persons living that Blanche had been legitimate regent of France during the
minority of St. Louis.

[Footnote s: The treaty of Andely, in 587, will be found to afford a very
strong presumption that females were at that time excluded from reigning in
France. Greg. Turon. l. ix.]

[Footnote t: The continuator of Nangis says indeed of this, de quo aliqui
indignati fuerunt. But these were probably the partisans of her nephew
Robert, who had been excluded by a judicial sentence of Philip IV., on the
ground that the right of representation did not take place in Artois; a
decision considered by many as unjust. Robert subsequently renewed his appeal
to the court of Philip of Valois; but, unhappily for himself, yielded to the
temptation of forging documents in support of a claim which seems to have been
at least plausible without such aid. This unwise dishonesty, which is not
without parallel in more private causes, not only ruined his pretensions to
the county of Artois, but produced a sentence of forfeiture, and even of
capital punishment, against himself. See a pretty good account of Robert's
process in Velly, t. viii. p. 262.

Sismondi (x. 44) does not seem to be convinced that Robert of Artois was
guilty of forgery; but perhaps he is led away by his animosity against kings,
especially those of the house of Valois. M. Michelet informs us (v. 30) that
the deeds produced by the demoiselle Divion, on which Robert founded his
claims, are in the Tresor des Chartes, and palpable forgeries.]

For these reasons, and much more from the provisional treaty concluded
between Philip and the Duke of Burgundy, it may be fairly inferred that the
Salic law, as it was called, was not so fixed a principle at that time as has
been contended. But however this may be, it received at the accession of
Philip the Long a sanction which subsequent events more thoroughly confirmed.
Philip himself leaving only three daughters, his brother Charles mounted the
throne [Charles IV., A.D. 1322]; and upon his death the rule was so
unquestionably established, that his only daughter was excluded by the Count
of Valois, grandson of Philip the Bold. This prince first took the regency,
the queen-dowager being pregnant, and, upon her giving birth to a daughter,
was crowned king. [A.D. 1328.] No competitor or opponent appeared in France;
but one more formidable than any whom France could have produced was awaiting
the occasion to prosecute his imagined right with all the resources of valor
and genius, and to carry desolation over that great kingdom with as little
scruple as if he was preferring a suit before a civil tribunal.

From the moment of Charles IV.’s death, Edward III. of England buoyed
himself up with a notion of his title to the crown of France, in right of his
mother Isabel, sister to the three last kings. We can have no hesitation in
condemning the injustice of this pretension. Whether the Salic law were or
were not valid, no advantage could be gained by Edward. Even if he could
forget the express or tacit decision of all France, there stood in his way
Jane, the daughter of Louis X., three of Philip the Long, and one of Charles
the Fair. Aware of this, Edward set up a distinction, that, although females
were excluded from succession, the same rule did not apply to their male
issue; and thus, though his mother Isabel could not herself become Queen of
France, she might transmit a title to him. But this was contrary to the
commonest rules of inheritance; and if it could have been regarded at all,
Jane had a son, afterwards the famous King of Navarre, who stood one degree
nearer to the crown than Edward.

It is asserted in some French authorities that Edward preferred a claim
to the regency immediately after the decease of Charles the Fair, and that the
States-General, or at least the peers of France, adjudged that dignity to
Philip de Valois. Whether this be true or not, it is clear that he
entertained projects of recovering his right as early, though his youth and
the embarrassed circumstances of his government threw insuperable obstacles in
the way of their execution. ^u He did liege homage, therefore, to Philip for
Guienne, and for several years, while the affairs of Scotland engrossed his
attention, gave no sign of meditating a more magnificent enterprise. As he
advanced in manhood, and felt the consciousness of his strength, his early
designs grew mature, and produced a series of the most important and
interesting revolutions in the fortunes of France. These will form the
subject of the ensuing pages.

[Footnote u: Letter of Edward III. addressed to certain nobles and towns in
the south of France, dated March 28, 1328, four days before the birth of
Charles IV.'s posthumous daughter, intimates this resolution. Rymer, vol. iv.
p. 344 et seq. But an instrument, dated at Northampton on the 16th of May, is
decisive: This is a procuration to the bishops of Worcester and Litchfield, to
demand and take possession of the kingdom of France, "in our name, which
kingdom has devolved and appertains to us as to the right heir." P. 354. To
this mission Archbishop Stratford refers, in his vindication of himself from
Edward's accusation of treason in 1340; and informs us that the two bishops
actually proceeded to France, though without mentioning any further
particulars. Novit enim qui nihil ignorat, quod cum quaestio de regno
Franciae post mortem regis Caroli, fratris serenissimae matris vestrae, in
parliamento tunc apud Northampton celebrato, tractata discussaque fuisset;
quodque idem regnum Franciae ad vos haereditario jure extiterat legitime
devolutum; et super hoc fuit ordinatum, quod duo episcopi, Wigorniensis tunc,
nunc autem Wintoniensis, ac Coventriensis et Lichfeldensis in Franciam
dirigerent gressus suos, nomineque vestro regnum Franciae vindicarent et
praedicti Philippi de Valesio coronationem pro viribus impedirent; qui juxta
ordinationem praedictam legationem iis injunctam tunc assumentes, gressus suos
versus Franciam direxerunt; quae quidem legatio maximam guerrae praesentis
materiam ministravit. Wilkins, Concilia, t. i. p. 664.

There is no evidence in Rymer's Foedera to corroborate Edward's supposed
claim to the regency of France upon the death of Charles IV.; and it is
certainly suspicious that no appointment of ambassadors or procurators for
this purpose should appear in so complete a collection of documents. The
French historians generally assert this, upon the authority of the continuator
of William of Nangis, a nearly contemporary, but not always well-informed
writer. It is curious to compare the four chief English historians. Rapin
affirms both the claim to the regency on Charles IV.'s death, and that to the
kingdom after the birth of his daughter. Carte, the most exact historian we
have, mentions the latter, and is silent as to the former. Hume passes over
both, and intimates that Edward did not take any steps in support of his
pretensions in 1328. Henry gives the supposed trial of Edward's claim to the
regency before the States-General at great length, and makes no allusion to
the other, so indisputably authenticated in Rymer. It is, I think, most
probable that the two bishops never made the formal demand of the throne as
they were directed by their instructions. Stratford's expressions seem to
imply that they did not.

Sismondi does not mention the claim of Edward to the regency after the
death of Charles IV., though he supposes his pretensions to have been taken
into consideration by the lords and doctors of law, whom he asserts, following
the continuator of William of Nangis, to have consulted together, before
Philip of Valois took the title of regent. (Vol. x. p. 10.) Michelet, more
studious of effect than minute in details, makes no allusion to the subject.]

Enhanced by Zemanta