ence of a
numerous assembly of his peers and prelates, who turned their eyes from
this mortifying sight, formally resigned his crown to the Pope's
legate, to whom at the same time he did homage and paid the first fruits
of his tribute. Nothing could be added to the humiliation of the king
upon this occasion, but the insolence of the legate, who spurned the
treasure with his foot, and let the crown remain a long time on the
ground, before he restored it to the degraded owner.

In this proceeding the motives of the king may be easily discovered; but
how the barons of the kingdom, who were deeply concerned, suffered
without any protestation the independency of the crown to be thus
forfeited is mentioned by no historian of that time. In civil tumults it
is astonishing how little regard is paid by all parties to the honor or
safety of their country. The king's friends were probably induced to
acquiesce by the same motives that had influenced the king. His enemies,
who were the most numerous, perhaps saw his abasement with pleasure, as
they knew this action might be one day employed against him with effect.
To the bigots it was enough that it aggrandized the Pope. It is perhaps
worthy of observation that the conduct of Pandulph towards King John
bore a very great affinity to that of the Roman consuls to the people of
Carthage in the last Punic War,--drawing them from concession to
concession, and carefully concealing their design, until they made it
impossible for the Carthaginians to resist. Such a strong resemblance
did the same ambition produce in such distant times; and it is far from
the sole instance in which we may trace a similarity between the spirit
and conduct of the former and latter Rome in their common design on the
liberties of mankind.

The legates, having thus triumphed over the king, passed back into
France, but without relaxing the interdict or excommunication, which
they still left hanging over him, lest he should be tempted to throw off
the chains of his new subjection. Arriving in France, they delivered
their orders to Philip with as much haughtiness as they had done to
John. They told him that the end of the war was answered in the
humiliation of the King of England, who had been rendered a dutiful son
of the Church,--and that, if the King of France should, after this
notice, proceed to further hostilities, he had to apprehend the same
sentence which had humbled his adversary. Philip, who had not raise