of the first Edward began to grow up in the fervid imagination of his descendant. Confident in his own ability, and reliant on the fidelity and valor of his subjects, he raised his eyes toward a higher pinnacle than the most aspiring of his ancestors had dared to contemplate. The union of two splendid diadems a realm of Saxon, Celt, and Gaelic-the fusion of the two greatest of military powers, which, apart, neutralized each other, but, coöperating, might defy Christendom-this was the dazzling vision which fired the brain of the young monarch.

Philip, surnamed the Fair, King of France, left three sons-Louis Hutin, Philip the Long, and Charles the Fair; and one daughter, Isabella, the queen of the English Edward the Second. Each of his sons succeeded to the crown one after another, neither of them having been blessed with male heirs, and all having left daughters, who were, of course, excluded from the succession by the ancient Salic law. The death of the youngest of the brothers, Charles, left the throne open to Philip of Valois, nephew of Philip the Fair, a wise, politic, and liberal prince.

Through his mother Isabella, Edward the Third sought to establish his right to the French crown. A more preposterous claim could not have been conceived for if the Salic law operated to exclude as well females as their heirs, his defective title was obvious; but if, as he was fain to argue, the male heirs of females could inherit, though the female ancestor could not, he was quite as unfortunate, for a grandson of Louis Hutin, Isabella's oldest brother, through his daughter, was living in the person of the fearless Charles of Navarre. It is evident, from the fallacy of every possible theory which Edward could

advance, that he sought merely a pretext for involv ing France and England in war. It is not to be imagined that he hoped to convince either the Pope, the French people, or his own court, by sophistries so palpably ridiculous. It is rather to be believed that he desired merely a nominal excuse. But Edward, although ambitious, and at times headlong in his action, was possessed of a spirit which, when a great end was to be sought, was capable of self-control. His caution was, throughout his career, the master of his impulses. Summoned, at the very time when his mind was educating itself for the grand stroke, to do homage for Guienne as the vassal of France, his pru dence turned the sharp edge of his pride and his ambition, and he yielded to the call. Opportunity, with an astute warrior, is half the victory. Events, favorable to Edward beyond his hopes, shortly came, which opened for him the proper chance. They arose from those detestable feuds from which no nation was in that age ever safe, even amid the delusive quiet of apparent harmony and union.

Robert, Count of Artois, a brave and popular scion of the royal house of Valois, having incurred the ill-will of Philip by a series of offences, was banished from France. He had been a powerful means by which Philip had risen peaceably to the throne. This nobleman brought his woes to the court of Edward the Third. By diverse arguments, readily ac cepted by a willing ear, he sought to persuade Edward to assert by military force his visionary right to the French crown. Meanwhile the malcontent barons of France were already plotting and counter-plotting, arming and organizing their vassals, withdrawing from the capital, holding conferences with the Rhine

princes, and sending messages to the arch-conspirator, Artois, at London.

Disaffection had begun to sow its bitter seed broadcast; the depravity of mankind was a soil in which that seed flourished to a rank luxuriance. The end may be readily conjectured. Edward sent forth his embassies to ascertain who could and who could not be relied upon. Out of a series of negotiations arose a coalition composed of the free cities and duchies of Flanders, the Rhenish vassals of the Empire, the disaffected nobles of France, and made complete by the eager coöperation of the ablest of kings, backed by the most energetic and civilized of peoples. Edward, to conciliate the Flemish vassals of Philip, assumed the escutcheon of the fleurs-de-lis; to humor his German allies, he became the titular Vicar of the Empire. Thus he started out on his first French campaign; thus he brought into existence the third great feature of that martial spirit whose growth we have noticed-ultramarine conquest. At this point of history begins that long series of mutual animosi ties between England and France which has never since waned. Here, too, in a wider view, begin the endless complications of England in Continental politics, and her inevitable interest in Continental war and diplomacy.

Various was the fortune of Edward in his French wars, holding good analogy with his previous conflicts with the Scotch. His first campaign was a miserable failure. He persevered; he was blessed with the Black Prince for a son; Crecy and Poictiers followed on his perseverance and the valor of his heir. Fiercely and relentlessly those conflicts raged; thousands of brave knights and loyal spirits perished

year by year, by starvation, by sickness, by the sword, by the gibbet. Strangely and suddenly alliances were formed; as strangely and suddenly their elements broke and came together in new combinations. Now the banner of St. George floated triumphantly over all northern France, now Philip was hardly safe behind the parapets of Paris, now John was led captive to England; anon the English hosts were hurled back to the coast, and Edward barely escaped the broad chance of capture and death. It is the old story of martial vicissitude: nothing important gained or lost on either side, except terrible loss in men and resource. There is no reason to suppose that Edward, with all his ability and all his chances, would have succeeded nearly as far as he did, had not the intestine embroilments in France rendered all harmonious action and unity of purpose impossible. What we have seen was the state of England under Henry the Third and Edward the Second, seems to have been the state of France at the time of the English invasions. The great feudal vassals, many of them lords of duchies and kingdoms, and far from Paris, disregarded the controlling centre at the capital. At one time the Count of Montfort, at another Charles of Navarre, at another Marcel, Mayor of Paris, became the chiefs of formidable parties, and the strength of their adherents rivalled throughout France that of the loyal party. Three successive kings came to the throne and passed away amid these distressing and cruel animosities. When Edward the Third died, the Black Prince having preceded him by a little to the grave, the position of the two nations was ostensibly similar to that in which they had stood when he ascended the throne. The

possessions of England on the Continent continued to be confined to northern France; the French King still ruled with unquestioned authority the great fiefs which had been the inheritance of his grandfather.

But we shall see, when we come to our especial subject, that the precedent set by Edward was followed with far different results after the lapse of half a century. No longer were English kings content to domineer over the hereditary chieftains of Wales, to make raids among the stubborn clans of the north, or to employ themselves in settling the disputes and restraining the turbulence of their barons. Crecy and Poictiers were fatal to the repose of their royal minds. Those victories seemed to prove the superior endurance, valor, and skill of English warriors. At Crecy, Edward, with twenty-five thousand men, had vanquished Philip at the head of near one hundred thousand; at Poictiers, the Black Prince, with ten thousand, had scattered an army of over sixty thousand, and captured the person of the French King, John. On both occasions the remnant of a retreating host had turned at bay upon exultant pursuers, and the pride of numbers had vanished before a stubborn and desperate defence. Well might the proud kings of those rude centuries be flattered by such a record; well might they encourage visions of a future career pregnant with glory and dominion. It is not sur prising that the descendant of a monarch who had exhibited in the streets of London, at the same time, two captive sovereigns,* should imagine that he might in time rise to the sceptre of both, and beget the line of their successors.

* Kings John of France and David of Scotland.