e crown. He watched with jealousy all their
proceedings, refused their advice, and confided in the fidelity of
foreigners more than in the affection of his own subjects. Such
conduct naturally alienated the minds of the nobles, who boldly
asserted that the great offices of state were their right, and entered
into associations for the support of their pretensions. Had the King
possessed the immense revenues of his predecessors he might perhaps
have set their enmity at defiance; but during the wars between Stephen
and Maud, and afterward between John and his barons, the royal
demesnes had been considerably diminished; and the occasional
extravagance of Henry, joined to his impolitic generosity to his
favorites, repeatedly compelled him to throw himself on the voluntary
benevolence of the nation. Year after year the King petitioned for a
subsidy, and each petition was met with a contemptuous refusal. If the
barons at last relented, it was always on conditions most painful to
his feelings. They obliged him to acknowledge his former misconduct,
to confirm anew the two charters, and to promise the immediate
dismissal of the foreigners.[60] But Henry looked only to the present
moment: no sooner were his coffers replenished than he forgot his
promises and laughed at their credulity. Distress again forced him to
solicit relief, and to offer the same conditions. Unwilling to be
duped a second time, the barons required his oath. He swore, and then
violated his oath with as much indifference as he had violated his
promise. His next applications were treated with scorn; but he
softened their opposition by offering to submit to excommunication if
he should fail to observe his engagements. In the great hall of
Westminster the King, barons, and prelates assembled; the sentence was
pronounced by the bishops with the usual solemnity; and Henry, placing
his hand on his breast, added, "So help me God, I will observe these
charters, as I am a Christian, a knight, and a king crowned and
anointed." The aid was granted, and the King reverted to his former
habits.

It was not, however, that he was by inclination a vicious man. He had
received strong religious impressions; though fond of parade, he
cautiously avoided every scandalous excess; and his charity to the
poor and attention to the public worship were deservedly admired. But
his judgment was weak. He had never emancipated his mind from the
tutelage in which it had been held in his youth