large town, and two from every small one, "to treat with him for their mutual benefit."
What a mockery and scorn for the once chosen people of the earth!
This assembly, which has been called the Jews' parliament, soon discovered that the monarch's care for his own benefit absorbed all consideration for theirs. He informed them that they must raise him no less a sum than 20,000 marks, not less than £200,000 at the present value of money.
When the Jews expressed tseir astonishment at the enormous amount demanded, all liberty of remonstrance or discussion was denied them; they were told to return to their homes again, and have one-half of the sum required ready by Midsummer, and the remaining half by Michaelmas.
The account of this iniquitous act of oppression is taken from Dr. Tovey's "Judaica Anglia," and is but one of many instances of the cruel rapacity exorcised on this unfortunate race.
As, during the same year, Raymond, the queen's father, received a gratifcation of 4,000 marks, there is little doubt but a portion of the spoil obtained so dishonestly enabled the king to gratify the avarice of his father-in-law.
In his oppression of the Jews Henry resembled his father. On two occasions during his reign the absurd charge of crucifying a Christian child was brought against them; and so strongly were the superstitious feelings of the nation excited, that many of the richest Israelites fled, when, as a matter of course, the king seized all their property. In Lincoln eighty of the wealthiest Jews were hanged, and sixty-three sent prisoners to the Tower, to undergo a similar fate.
Several appear to have been marked out for particular spoliation. Aaron of York, whom Scott doubtless had in view when he wrote "Ivanhoe," declared to Matthew Paris that no less than 30,000 marks had been extorted from him in seven years, besides a gift of 200 to the queen.
Towards London the hostility of Henry was strongly marked, and on various "right royal" pretexts he grievously mulcted the citizens; while his cruel execution of Constantino Fitz-Arnulph, whose only crime seems to have been opposition to the overbearing conduct of the Abbot of Westminster, encouraged an equal hostility in the hearts of the citizens; and from henceforward they determinedly took their place in the ranks of the king's enemies.
The whole account may be seen in Stow; and when we read that this unfortunate citizen offered 15,000 marks for his life, we have strong proof of Henry's hatred to London, which could urge so mercenary and so needy a monarch to reject such a ransom.
Ere long, the citizens obtained a marked triumph. The king, reduced almost to beggary by the swarms of foreign adventurers who grew rich upon his bounty, was compelled to pledge the crown jewels. In vain did he offer them to wealthy noble, or rich Italian merchant; none could buy: it was the citizens of London who paid down the stipulated sum; and Henry saw the crown jewels pass into the hands of these, the most detested of his subjects.
Matthew Paris has left us a singular account of a ceremony which took place in 1247, when Henry received from the patriarch of Jerusalem a relic which he accepted with unquestioned faith. The gift consisted of a portion of the blood of Christ. On its arrival, the king commanded all the clergy of London and Westminster to attend with crosses, banners, and tapers at St. Paul's, where he himself repaired, and taking from the treasury the crystal vase which contained the supposed treasure, "with all honour, reverence, and fear, bore it upon its stand, walking on foot, in mean attire—that is to say, in a cloak made of coarse cloth, without a hood—to the church of Westminster.
"The pious monarch," continues the chronicler, "did not cease to carry it in both hands, through all the rugged and miry way, keeping his eyes constantly fixed upon it, or elevating it devoutly towards heaven." The scene was worthy of the actor and the superstitious credulity of the age in which it occurred.
Henry, however, had a canopy held over him, supported by four lances; and an attendant on either hand, guiding him by the arms, lest he should stumble. When he arrived at Westminster, he was met by the whole convent at the church door; but not even then did the king relinquish his precious burden: he went round the church, the chapels, and the adjoining court, and at length presented the vase and its contents "to God and the church of St. Peter." Mass was then sung; and the Bishop of Norwich, ascending the pulpit, delivered a sermon to the people, extolling the value of the relic, lauding the great devotion of the king, and anathematising all those who hinted doubts of its reality—a forcible proof that, even at this early day, our forefathers did not believe all that was told them. This memorable day was closed by the king's feasting sumptuously, and conferring knighthood on his half-brother, William de Valence; and the well-pleased monk of St. Albans, who was present, records the gratifying circumstance that Henry, seeing him, called him, and prayed him "expressly and fully to record all these things in a well-written book." Nor did this instance of royal condescension fail of its intended effect: the whole account is written in a strain of courtesy which contrasts curiously enough with the plain speaking of the rest of the volume; and these two pages stand out from the rest of the text like a laureate's birthday ode.
CHAPTER LV.
Henry's bounty and profuse liberality to his foreign relations, his friends and favourites, might have appeared less intolerable to his subjects had anything been done for the honour of the nation. But the crown was so utterly subservient to the see of Rome, that it fell into contempt and well-deserved hatred. The regal vassal appeared to have no will but the Pontifif's, who was not slow to abuse his weakness.
It is true that the king, in 1242, declared war against Louis IX. of France, and undertook an expedition into Guienne at the earnest solicitation of the Count de la Marche, who promised to support him with all his force. He was unsuccessful in his attempts against that great monarch, was worsted at Taillebourg, was deserted by his allies, lost what remained to him of Poitou, and was obliged to return, with loss of honour, into England. The
