CHAPTER VII
JOHN LACKLAND
1215–1216
Dicitur ... “Sine Terra,” quia moriturus nil terrae in pace possedit.
M. Paris, Hist. Angl. vol. ii. p. 191.
The Pope’s letters evidently did not reach England till after the primate and the bishops had set out for Rome, so that there was no one left to publish the new sentence; and it seems, in fact, never to have been published in England at all. But its existence soon became known there; and when once the barons knew of it, they knew, too, that they must make their choice between unconditional surrender and war to the uttermost with both king and Pope; for there was no one left to act as their mediator with either. They chose war; but they were not ready for war, and the king was. Poitevins, Gascons, Brabantines, Flemings, were flocking to him from over sea.[1097] On October 2 he ordered his brother, Earl William of Salisbury, to visit ten royal castles and select from their garrisons troops for service in the field. On the 4th he committed the superintendence of military affairs in mid-England and the west to Falkes de Bréauté, and issued a general safe-conduct to “all who may wish to return to our fealty and service” through the medium of Falkes or the earl.[1098] He himself had, towards the end of September, advanced as far inland as Malling;[1099] but this seems to have been merely a sort of reconnoitring expedition; his plan evidently was to wait till all his expected reinforcements had arrived from over sea, and then march with them upon London, while William and Falkes did the same with the troops which they could bring up from the west, so as to place the capital between two fires. While his forces were concentrating, those of the barons were scattering; they had no scheme of united action; one party had renewed the siege of Northampton castle, another was engaged in that of Oxford.[1100] At last the leaders in London decided that something must be done to bar John’s way to the capital; and they advanced into Kent as far as Ospring. When they reached it John was at Canterbury; having only a small escort he, on hearing of his enemies’ approach, hurriedly fell back to Dover; they, however, were so scared by a report that he had set out from Canterbury to offer them battle that they beat an equally hasty retreat towards Rochester.[1101] Their great fear was lest he should gain possession of Rochester castle, which he had vainly tried to induce the archbishop to give up to him two months before.[1102] On October 11 Reginald of Cornhill, in whose charge Stephen had left it, suffered it to be occupied by a band of picked knights under William of Aubigny. But the triumph of the intruders was shortlived; two days later the king was at the gates of Rochester.[1103]
“Certes, sire,” said one of John’s Flemish allies as the royal host set out for Rochester, “you make little account of your enemies if you go to fight them with so small a force!” “I know them too well,” answered John; “they are to be nothing accounted of or feared. With fewer men than we have we might safely fight them. Certes, one thing I may tell you truly, I grieve not so much for the evil which the men of my land are doing to me, as that their wickedness should be seen by strangers.”[1104] The king knew what the stranger did not know, that so long as he could keep the Medway between himself and the main body of the barons he was safe. He therefore began his operations by an attempt to destroy the bridge, and thus to cut off the communications between Rochester and London. It seems that he sent a party up the river in boats to fire the bridge from beneath, and that they succeeded in so doing, but that Robert Fitz-Walter, with a picked body of knights and men-at-arms, was guarding the bridge at the time and managed to extinguish the flames and drive off the assailants.[1105] Fitz-Walter, however, appears to have immediately returned to London;[1106] and in a second attack on the bridge John was completely successful; the bridge was destroyed, and the king proceeded to invest the castle[1107] and assault the town.
On his first approach the citizens had manned their walls and “made a great show of defending themselves”; but “when they saw he was preparing to assault them they broke into a rout, left the battlements, and fled on all sides. Then his men entered through the gates, and began to chase them through the town to the bridge so vigorously that they drove all the knights by force into the castle; of whom”—sarcastically adds the Flemish soldier of fortune who tells the tale—“many would gladly have fled to London if they could.”[1108] But they could not, the bridge being now gone. The whole party thus gathered in the castle numbered about ninety-five knights and forty-five men-at-arms.[1109] The castle when given to William of Aubigny and his followers was destitute of provisions; they had had no time to procure any, save what little they could get in the town;[1110] and they saw before them an imminent prospect of starvation. John pressed the siege vigorously; on the day after its commencement he ordered “all the smiths in Canterbury” to devote their whole time, “day and night,” to making pickaxes, which were to be sent to him at Rochester as fast as they were made.[1111] His forces increased daily till they became “such a multitude that they struck fear and horror into all who beheld them.”[1112] They ravaged all over Kent, and wrought havoc in Rochester, stabling their horses in the cathedral and committing every kind of sacrilege in the holy places.[1113]
At all this the barons in London looked on in helpless consternation. They had plighted a solemn oath to William of Aubigny, when he undertook the expedition to Rochester, that if the king besieged him there they would succour him without fail.[1114] A fortnight passed before they made any movement to redeem their promise; then, on October 26, some seven hundred knights[1115] set out under the command of Robert Fitz-Walter; but they got no farther than Dartford. One chronicler says they “retreated before the breath of a very soft south wind as if beaten back by swords”;[1116] another, that they turned back in dismay on hearing how numerous were the forces of the king;[1117] a third, that they were misled on this point by an exaggerated account given them by a Templar sent to meet them for that purpose by John himself.[1118] In any case, they returned to London, and having taken care to provide themselves with ample stores, they sat down to “play at the fatal dice and drink the best wine, according to each man’s taste, and do it is needless to say what besides,”[1119] till S. Andrew’s Day. By that time they expected important reinforcements; and they reckoned that the besieged could hold out till then.[1120]
William of Aubigny and his comrades did hold out, but at desperate odds. Every possible mode of attack—mining, battery, assault—was tried in turn upon the fortress. Five great slinging engines were plied incessantly, day and night, against its walls. The garrison, already short of food, and expecting no mercy from the king if they surrendered, were minded to sell their lives dearly; they fought like heroes; “nor,” says the Barnwell annalist, “does living memory recall any siege so urgently carried on and so manfully resisted.”[1121] A strange contrivance at last shattered the mighty keep. On November 25 John ordered the justiciar to send him with all possible speed “forty bacon-pigs of the fattest, and of those which are least good for eating, to be put to set fire to the stuff that we have got together under the tower.”[1122] Of the results of the blaze thus kindled a token remains to this day, in the round tower which at the south-west angle of the keep contrasts so markedly with the square towers at the other corners, and which replaces the original square one thus destroyed by John. Even after its fall the garrison fought on until their last morsel of food was gone; then at last they surrendered on S. Andrew’s Day.[1123] The king set up a gallows in front of the army and declared he would hang them all; but he yielded to Savaric de Mauléon’s warning that if he hanged brave knights such as these, the barons would surely do the like to any friends of his who might fall into their hands, and that in view of such a prospect no man would remain in his service.[1124] On this he contented himself with sending the knights to prison, leaving the men-at-arms to ransom themselves as best they could, and hanging only a few cross-bowmen.[1125]
Three times since the siege began the barons in London, or some of them, had opened negotiations with the king. On October 17 Richard of Argentan and others had a safe-conduct “to treat with us for peace between ourself and our barons”;[1126] on October 22 Roger de Jarpeville and Robert de Coleville had a safe-conduct till the 27th to treat with the king concerning peace between him and “the barons who may come with the Master of the Temple and the Prior of the Hospital”;[1127] and on November 9 a safe-conduct till the 12th was given to Earl Richard of Clare, Robert Fitz-Walter, Geoffrey de Say, and the mayor and two, three or four citizens of London, that they might go and speak with the bishop of Winchester, the earls of Warenne and Arundel, and Hubert de Burgh, “to treat of peace between ourself and our barons.”[1128] On the side of the barons these overtures were nothing but a cloak for the cowardice and incapacity which kept them from taking any active steps for the relief of their besieged comrades. They were all the while pushing on negotiations for bringing in a foreign power to aid them in their selfish scheme of revolution.
One chronicler asserts that as long ago as the year 1210 some of the barons had contemplated driving John from his throne and setting up as king in his stead a man who, though born on foreign soil and engaged throughout his whole life in the service of foreign powers, had yet a claim to rank as one of themselves, and certainly not as the least distinguished among them—Simon, count of Montfort and titular earl of Leicester.[1129] To modern eyes the cruelties of the war against the Albigenses, in which Simon was the leader of the “crusading” host, have somewhat obscured the nobler aspects of a character which was not without a heroic side. It was indeed by a strange instinct that—if the Dunstable annalist’s tale be true—the chiefs of the English revolutionary party fixed their hopes for a moment on the father of that other Simon de Montfort, at that time still but a boy, who was one day to seal with his blood the work of England’s deliverance which they professed to have at heart, but which in their narrow and short-sighted selfishness they were alike unworthy and incapable of achieving. The instinct was at any rate a loftier one than that which guided them in their choice of a rival to John five years later. The scheme put forth by the group of barons in London in the summer of 1215 for electing a new king “by the common consent of the whole realm” of course came to nothing; the magnates would have none of it, and the northern barons who had separated from the other malcontents before the sealing of the Charter had, as will be seen later, made an independent choice of their own. The mad little faction in London, headed now by Earl Geoffrey de Mandeville, acted by themselves and for themselves alone when they “chose for their lord” the eldest son of the king of France, “begging and praying him that he would come with a mighty arm to pluck them out of the hand of this tyrant.”[1130]
Only one English chronicler gives or even pretends to give any hint of the grounds on which this choice was, either really or nominally, based. In no English writer of the time do we find any indication that the connexion of Louis of France with the reigning royal house of England, through his marriage with John’s sister’s daughter, had, or was supposed to have, anything to do with it. The claim to the English crown which Louis afterwards put forth on this ground seems to have been an idea of purely French origin, which not only had never suggested itself to any English mind, but, when it was suggested, failed to meet with general recognition even among Louis’s partizans in England. The intricate rules of succession, and especially of female succession, which it pre-supposed were as yet, when applied to the Crown at least, completely strange to English statesmen. Moreover, it is by no means clear that the barons who offered the Crown to Louis had any real intention of transferring it to him and his heirs for ever. Roger of Wendover tells us that “after hesitating for some time whom they should choose, they at length agreed upon this, that they would set over themselves Louis, the son of King Philip of France, and raise him up to be king of England. Their reason was that if through the agency of Louis and his father King John could be deprived of the host of foreign soldiers who surrounded him, most of whom were subjects of Louis[1131] or Philip, he, being without support from either side of the sea, would be left alone and unable to fight.”[1132] In other words, they wanted Louis as a tool wherewith to crush John; and to gain him for their tool they offered him the bribe of the crown, thinking that when their immediate purpose should be accomplished it would be time enough to consider whether the annexation of England to France would or would not really profit them better than to break faith with their new lord as they had broken it with their old one.
The first direct overtures of the barons to Louis seem to have been made before the outbreak of hostilities, in September or October 1215;[1133] and these overtures were renewed at some time after the commencement of the siege of Rochester, when the earls of Winchester and Hereford went over with a message from their comrades in London to Louis, that “if he would pack up his clothes and come, they would give him the kingdom and make him their lord.”[1134] These envoys were at once confronted by Philip with a letter which he had just received, purporting to come from the same barons and informing him that his son’s intervention was no longer needed, as peace had been made between them and their own sovereign. The earl of Winchester offered to pledge his head that the letter was forged by John.[1135] The French king accepted this assurance; but he was too wary to commit himself hastily to a scheme so full of perils and difficulties as that which the earls so lightly proposed, and he merely gave it a negative countenance by standing altogether aloof from their negotiations with his son. Louis promised that he would at once send to England as many knights as he could get, and would himself follow them at Easter. He then called his own vassals together at Hesdin, and at the end of November some hundred and forty of his knights with their followers—in all about seven thousand men—landed at the mouth of the Orwell[1136] and made their way to London, “where they were very well received and led a sumptuous life; only they were there in great discomfort because they ran short of wine and had only beer to drink, to which they were not accustomed. Thus they remained all the winter.”[1137]
John spent the winter in other fashion. On November 28—two days before the surrender of Rochester—Tonbridge castle, which belonged to the rebel earl of Clare, had surrendered to Robert de Béthune, one of John’s Flemish allies, and on the same day the castle of Bedford yielded to Falkes de Bréauté. In each case the garrison had sent to their lord for help, and in each case no help had been given them.[1138] John left Rochester on December 6, marched through Essex and Surrey into Hampshire, and thence proceeded to Windsor.[1139] On the 20th he held a council at S. Albans.[1140] Two of his envoys had recently come back from Rome with a papal confirmation of the suspension of Archbishop Stephen.[1141] This was read to the convent assembled in the chapter-house, and committed to them for transmission to all cathedral and conventual churches throughout England. The king then retired with his counsellors into the cloister “to arrange how he might confound the magnates of England who were his enemies, and how he might find pay for the foreigners who were fighting under him.” He decided upon dividing his host into two bodies; one was placed under the command of Earl William of Salisbury, assisted by Falkes de Bréauté, Savaric de Mauléon, William Brewer, and a Brabantine captain known as Walter Buck, with orders to check the irruptions of the barons who were in London; of the other the king himself took the command, “intending to go through the northern provinces of England, and destroy with fire and sword everything that came in his way.”[1142]
That same night {Dec. 20} John, with his division, moved on to Dunstable; before daybreak on the morrow he set out for Northampton, and by Christmas he was at Nottingham.[1143] All along his route he sent out parties in every direction to burn the houses of the hostile barons and seize their cattle and their goods; every obstacle that stood in his path was destroyed; and as if the day were not long enough to satiate his love of destruction, he would send men out at night to fire the hedges and the villages along his line of march, that he might rejoice his eyes with the damage done to his enemies; while the other question which had occupied his deliberations at S. Albans, the remuneration of his followers, was solved with the produce of the rapine in which they were not merely indulged but encouraged. Every human being, of whatever rank, sex or age, who crossed the path of this terrible host was seized, tortured, and put to heavy ransom. The constables of the baronial castles dared not trust to the protection of their walls; at the report of the king’s approach they fled, leaving their fortresses to be occupied by him and his troops.[1144] Thus, “not in the usual manner, but as one on the war-path,” he kept Christmas at Nottingham.[1145] On the following day {Dec. 26} he moved on to Langar, and thence, next morning, {Dec. 27} despatched a notice to the garrison of William of Aubigny’s castle of Belvoir that if they did not surrender at once, their lord should be starved to death. To this threat they yielded.[1146]
Meanwhile, the barons in London had made no use of the reinforcements sent to them by Louis. They seem to have despaired of overcoming John by any means short of an invasion headed by Louis in person with the whole forces of the French kingdom at his back. Towards the close of the year Saher de Quincy and Robert Fitz-Walter went on another embassy to Philip and Louis, “urgently imploring the father that he would send his son to reign in England, and the son that he would come thither to be crowned.” How or by whom he was to be crowned, when the only prelate competent to perform the rite was in exile and under suspension, and the rival sovereign was under the direct protection of the Pope, they did not explain. Philip refused to entertain their proposals without further security, and demanded “twenty-four hostages at least, of the noblest of the whole land.” The hostages were sent under the charge of the earls of Gloucester and Hereford. When they arrived, Louis began to prepare eagerly for his expedition; but there were still weighty reasons why, as an English chronicler says, “he himself could not hastily set out to undertake so arduous a matter.” So, “to raise the hopes of the barons and try their fidelity,”[1147] he sent his marshal and some others of his vassals with a second contingent, some three hundred knights and cross-bowmen and a proportionate number of foot soldiers, all of whom, together with the English earls, sailed up the Thames and arrived in London just after Epiphany 1216 {c. Jan. 8}; he himself promising on oath that he would be at the coast, ready to cross, “with a great multitude of people,” at latest on the octave of S. Hilary, January 20.[1148]
So, while John was pursuing his northward march, the barons sat still and waited. The southern division of John’s host meanwhile was far from idle. Between Christmas and the middle of January detachments of it overran the whole of Essex, Hertfordshire, Middlesex, Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire, while the main body marched to S. Edmund’s, drove the insurgents who had taken refuge there to seek another shelter in the Isle of Ely, followed them thither, and sacked, burned and ravaged the patrimony of S. Etheldreda as they did every other place to which they came.[1149] Their leaders, before setting out, had charged the constables of Windsor, Hertford and Berkhamsted to keep a watch upon all who went into and out of London, and if possible to stop the supplies of the barons there. This latter charge either proved impossible to execute, or the constables deemed its execution impolitic, and deliberately preferred to let the king’s enemies in London ruin themselves by “lying there like delicate women, anxiously considering what variety of food and drink could be set before them to renew their wearied appetites.”[1150] The advance of Savaric de Mauléon on Colchester, on January 29, perhaps roused them at last, for a report reached him that they were hastening to relieve it, and caused him to retire towards S. Edmunds,[1151] probably to rejoin the other royalist leaders who had been doing the work of destruction at Ely. But the barons, still vainly waiting for their foreign ally who came not, made no further movement; and even when the royalists fired a suburb of London itself, and carried off “plunder of inestimable value,”[1152] no retaliation seems to have been attempted.
While the barons slumbered—as a chronicler says—the king was not asleep;[1153] he was wreaking his long-delayed vengeance on the north. The malcontents in the land beyond the Humber had been quicker than their southern comrades to recognize their need of foreign help in their struggle against John, and they had taken a short and easy way of obtaining it for themselves. No sooner had civil war broken out in England in the autumn of 1215 than the young Scottish king, Alexander, who owed his throne and almost his life to the timely help which John had given to his father four years before, marched into Northumberland and laid siege, on October 19, to Norham castle.
Three days later the Northumbrian barons did homage to him at Felton. No immediate results, indeed, followed from this new league; the garrison of Norham seem to have been as loyal as their castle was strong; at the end of forty days {Nov. 28} Alexander raised the siege and returned home,[1154] just as John was on the point of receiving the surrender of Rochester; and for more than a month no further movement took place in the north except an obscure rising at York.[1155] When at the opening of 1216 John entered Yorkshire, the terror of his march to Nottingham had gone before him and all thought of resistance was abandoned. He reached Pontefract on January 2; its constable “came there to his mercy.”[1156] He went on to “his city of York,” and “wrought all his will with it.”[1157] On January 7 and 8 he was at Darlington.[1158] The horrors wrought by his troops seem to have equalled, if not surpassed, those which the Scots had been wont to perpetrate in their raids upon Northumbria in their days of savage heathenism before the conversion of Malcolm Canmore.[1159] A few barons “submitted themselves to the mercy of the merciless one”; the rest “fled before his face.”[1160] From Darlington he seems to have advanced on the 8th to Durham; thence he was about to turn southward again, when he learned that Alexander had set fire to Newcastle-on-Tyne. Swearing “by God’s teeth” that he would “run the little sandy fox-cub to his earth,”[1161] John dashed forward to Newcastle; the place was indeed burnt, but Alexander had withdrawn into his own territory,[1162] and on the 11th the English refugees gathered round him in the chapter-house at Melrose and renewed their oath to him on the relics of the saints. John was on their track, burning and ravaging what little there was left to ravage—little enough, for the fugitives had set fire to their own fields and villages that he might get no benefit from them.[1163] On the day of the homage at Melrose John reached Alnwick.[1164] On the 14th he assaulted Berwick; town and castle were taken next day,[1165] and the population butchered, after horrible tortures, by his mercenaries. From Berwick he made, in the following week, a series of raids across the Tweed, and swept the country as far as Dunbar and Haddington, both of which he burned. At last, seeing that the “fox-cub” was not worth a longer chase and that there was more important work to be done elsewhere, he ordered Berwick to be burnt, fired with his own hand—so the Scottish story runs—the house in which he had himself been lodging,[1166] and on January 23 or 24 began to move southward. After stopping two days at Newcastle[1167] and granting a new charter to its citizens,[1168] he made his way slowly back through Yorkshire. When at the end of February he reached Fotheringay,[1169] all the castles in the shire save two were in his power and garrisoned by followers of his own, who were charged to hold the country and continue the work of destruction on the lands of the rebels wherever there was anything left to destroy.[1170] Alexander’s dreams of conquest, the Northumbrian barons’ dream of independence—if subjection to their country’s hereditary foe could be called independence—were alike at an end. Alexander, indeed, made a raid upon Carlisle as soon as John’s back was turned;[1171] but it was a mere raid which led to nothing. Far more significant is the string of safe-conducts which shows how throughout the winter and the spring the terror-stricken English rebels came crowding in to make their peace with John.[1172]
John had now regained the mastery over the whole eastern side of England, from the south coast to the Scottish border,[1173] except a few castles in Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex. After spending a week in Bedfordshire,[1174] probably to concert measures with Falkes de Bréauté, he marched into East Anglia. On March 12 he was at the gates of Roger Bigod’s castle of Framlingham; it surrendered at once.[1175] Next day he moved on to Ipswich; on the 14th he laid siege to Colchester.[1176] Here the garrison had been reinforced by a detachment of Louis’s Frenchmen, who agreed to surrender on condition that they should be suffered to march out free and their English comrades held to ransom. John, however, broke his promise to the Englishmen and put them in chains. The Frenchmen on reaching London were accused by the barons of having betrayed their comrades by making separate terms for themselves; they were arrested and even threatened with death, but it was finally determined to keep them in custody till Louis should arrive.[1177] On the 25th John proceeded to Hedingham, which belonged to the earl of Oxford, Robert de Vere; three days later it surrendered, and the earl himself “came there to the king’s mercy, and swore that he would thenceforth serve him loyally.” Robert’s oath was soon broken;[1178] but his submission, insincere though it was, indicates that the barons were losing heart. So, too, does an application made at the same time by the earl of Clare and his son for a safe-conduct to and from the king’s court.[1179] A yet more important result of John’s recent campaign was the supply of money which he had acquired by the plunder of his enemies. This enabled him during his stay at Hedingham to satisfy his mercenaries by a general distribution of pay and gifts. Thus secured against the risk of their desertion, he prepared to march upon London.[1180]
A third body of troops sent by Louis had arrived in London at the end of February,[1181] and a letter had been received from Louis himself, announcing that “by God’s grace” he would “most certainly” be at Calais ready to cross on Easter Day, April 10.[1182] Encouraged on the one hand by this assurance, on the other the Londoners had been stirred into a mood of dangerous defiance by tidings from Rome. On December 16, 1215, the Pope renewed his condemnation of the barons in such a manner that it could no longer remain what circumstances had made it hitherto, a dead letter. He excommunicated the rebels, this time not merely in general terms, but mentioning thirty-one of them by name; he also placed the city of London under interdict, and he appointed the abbot of Abingdon and two other commissioners to execute this mandate.[1183] It seems to have reached England about the end of February 1216.[1184] The commissioners sent it to all the cathedral and conventual churches for immediate publication, and it was soon published everywhere except in London. There the clergy of S. Paul’s, the barons and the citizens all alike rejected it and appealed against it, declaring that it had been obtained by “false suggestions, and was therefore of no account, more especially as the ordering of lay affairs pertained not to the Pope.”[1185] This last assertion seems ridiculous in the mouths of the barons, who scarce twelve months before had professed pride in having compelled the king to surrender to the Pope the temporal overlordship of England. It was in a spirit of mingled rage at the downfall of the expectations which they had once founded upon that surrender, and revived hope of speedy help from France, that the revolutionists who held the capital met the king’s threat of attack. The citizens opened their gates and arrayed themselves “ready to go forth and fight with him if he should approach within ten leagues of the city.”[1186] Advancing slowly and cautiously, he reached Enfield on the last day of March;[1187] on the following night he seems to have slept at Waltham Abbey, “seven little English leagues from London.”[1188] But he came no nearer. Savaric de Mauléon, venturing on a closer approach, was caught at unawares and barely escaped with heavy loss of men and with a wound of which he all but died; a band of “pirates” who attempted to block the Thames were all either slain, drowned or captured by the Londoners; and evil tidings came from the north how the rebels there had risen anew, laid siege to York, and pressed it so hard that the citizens had been compelled to purchase for a thousand marks a truce till Trinity Sunday.[1189] From Enfield the king passed round by Berkhamsted to Windsor and Reading, and thence went south into Hampshire.[1190]
Of the northern rising we hear no more, but it seems to have proved a failure, for before April 12 three of the chief northern barons, Eustace de Vesci, Robert de Ros and Peter de Brus, offered to return to the king’s service on one condition—that he would allow them to do so without a fine. John’s answer was as politic as it was dignified. “What we desire to have from our barons,” he wrote, “is not so much money as their good and faithful service”; and he sent the three petitioners a safe-conduct to come and speak with him on their own terms.[1191] On the previous day he had given orders that the mayor of York should be “competently provided” out of the lands of the king’s enemies “for his good and faithful service which he did to the king,”[1192] no doubt in the defence of the city during the recent siege. The mayor’s loyalty and the king’s promptitude in rewarding it illustrate a feature of John’s home policy which is traceable through all the vicissitudes of his career: his interest in the towns and the trading classes, and his constant endeavours to cultivate their friendship. All the while that he was harrying the open country, burning villages and plundering castles, he was making careful provision for the furtherance of trade, the security of travelling merchants[1193] and the preservation of foreign commerce from disturbance or interruption. With a French invasion close at hand, he was still issuing safe-conducts to French merchants in London and elsewhere.[1194] For this, indeed, there may have been a political reason; John was anxious to keep on good terms with France in order to counterwork the schemes of the barons in that quarter. He had lately sent an embassy to try whether Philip Augustus could by any means be induced to forbid his son’s proposed expedition.[1195] One of the envoys at least, William the Marshal, was back by Easter,[1196] the day which Louis had fixed for his own departure. That day passed and Louis came not—hindered, it seems, by contrary winds.[1197] About this time John sent a letter to Louis himself, signifying his willingness to amend any injury which Louis might have received at his hands;[1198] and on April 28 he wrote to the guardians of the truce in France proposing that they should hold a meeting with his proctors for the settlement of all disputes which had arisen from infractions of the truce.[1199]