Neville in 1238, and withdrew from him the custody of the great seal, though he allowed him to retain the name and emoluments of chancellor.  On Neville’s death the office fell into abeyance for nearly twenty years, during which time the great seal was entrusted to seven successive keepers.  Like his grandfather, Henry wished to rule in person with the help of faithful but unobtrusive subordinates.  This system, which was essentially that of the French monarchy, presupposed for success the constant personal supervision of an industrious and strong-willed king.  Henry III was never a strenuous worker, and his character failed in the robustness and self-reliance necessary for personal rule.  The magnates, who regarded themselves as the king’s natural-born counsellors, were bitterly incensed, and hated the royal clerks as fiercely as they had disliked the ministers of his minority.  Opposed by the barons, distrusted by the people, liable to be thrown over by their master at each fresh change of his caprice, the royal subordinates showed more eagerness in prosecuting their own private fortunes than in consulting the interests of the State.  Thus the nominal government of Henry proved extremely ineffective.  Huge taxes were raised, but little good came from them.  The magnates held sullenly aloof; the people grumbled; the Church lamented the evil days.  Yet for five and twenty years the wretched system went on, not so much by reason of its own strength as because there was no one vigorous enough to overthrow it.

The author of all this mischief was a man of some noble and many attractive qualities.  Save when an occasional outburst of temper showed him a true son of John, Henry was the kindest, mildest, most amiable of men.  He was the first king since William the Conqueror in whose private life the austerest critics could find nothing blameworthy.  His piety stands high, even when estimated by the standards of the thirteenth century.  He was well educated and had a touch of the artist’s temperament, loving fair churches, beautiful sculpture, delicate goldsmith’s work, and richly illuminated books.  He had a horror of violence, and never wept more bitter tears than when he learned how treacherously his name had been used to lure Richard Marshal to his doom.  But he was extraordinarily deficient in stability of purpose.  For the moment it was easy to influence him either for good or evil, but even the ablest of his counsellors found it impossible to retain any hold over him for long.  One day he lavished all his affection on Hubert de Burgh; the next he played into the hands of his enemies.  In the same way he got rid of Peter des Roches, the preceptor of his infancy, the guide of his early manhood.  Jealous, self-assertive, restless, and timid, he failed in just those qualities that his subjects expected to find in a king.  Born and brought up in England, and never leaving it save for short and infrequent visits to the continent, he was proud of his English ancestors and devoted