Men act freely in laying and executing their plans; but behind the turmoil and conflict of human wills there is an unseen power that shapes destiny—nations rise and fall, generations come and go; yet through the ages there has been an advancement of Justice, Truth, Right and Liberty.

In man’s march to liberty, kings and rulers, Catholics and Protestants have killed each other, many thinking they were doing God a service. If while reading this “Story” you are roused to indignation, or pained at the recital of wrong and outrage, remember that out of endurance and sacrifice has come all that you hold most dear; so will you comprehend what Liberty has cost and what it is worth.

—Charles Coffin 1879

The Story of the Magna Charta

AT the time when this story begins there is very little liberty in the world. It is the 15th of June, 1215 AD, and the grass is fresh and green in the Runnymede meadow, where the Army of God has set up its encampment. No other army like it was ever seen. All the great men of England are in its ranks-the barons and lords, the owners of castles who ride on noble horses, wear coats of mail, and are armed with swords and lances. Pavilions and tents dot the meadow; flags and banners wave in the summer air; General Fitzwalter is commander. There is no hostile army near at hand, nor will there be any clashing of arms on this 15th of June, and yet before the sun goes down the Army of God will win a great victory over the King of England, John Lackland, who is in Windsor Castle.

The king praised the dinner. Perhaps, however, he mistrusted that it was not pork, for, said Richard, "Bring in the head of the pig, that I may see it." The poor cook knew not what to do. Now he certainly would have his head cut off. With much trembling he brought in the head of the Saracen (from an Arab empire, not of Sarah, descended from Ishmael). The king laughed when he saw it. "We shall not want for pork as long as we have sixty thousand prisoners," he said, not in the least disturbed to know that he had been eating human flesh.

The Saracen General Saladin sent thirty ambassadors to Richard beseeching him not to put the 60 thousand Saracen prisoners to death. Richard held a banquet and decorated the tables with the heads of thirty Saracens instead of flowers. Instead of acceding to the request of Saladin, he had the 60 thousand men, women and children slaughtered. Kings did as they pleased, but for everybody else there was no liberty.

When Richard died, John seized the throne, pretending Richard had made a will in his favor. Richard's son Arthur was the rightful heir, but John had him seized and locked in the Tower of London with an order to have his eyes burned out with a re-hot iron. The keeper never carried out the order. No one knows what happened to Arthur, but John probably had him murdered.

There were rich Jews in London and Bristol, and John coveted their money. He seized them.

"Give up your money, or I will have your teeth pulled, everyone of them," said he. Most of them gave up their money; but one man resisted. " Pull a tooth," said the king. The tooth was pulled.

"Pull another." Out came another tooth.

"Will you comply with the king's demands?" " No."

"Pull 'em all out." Out they came.

"Will you hand over your money?" "No."

"Then seize it! Take all!" So the poor man lost his teeth, and his money also.

John commanded the country people to drive their cattle into camp, and supply his soldiers with food. The people in Wales, however, would not obey, whereupon he seized twenty-eight sons of the chief families, and shut them up in prison. That stirred the Welshmen's blood, and they flew to arms; but John, instead of giving up the young men, put them to death.

The Army of God

John is a tyrant. The barons and lords have resolved that they will no longer submit to his tyranny. They have organized themselves into an army, calling themselves the " Army of God." A few months ago, they sent a deputation to the king, stating their demands.

"I will not grant them liberties which will make me a slave," he said, swearing terrible oaths.

There is no liberty for anybody, except for this wicked and cruel tyrant. But his answer only makes the barons more determined. They resolve that if the king will not grant what they ask, they will secure it by the sword.

John can swear terrible oaths, and make a great bluster; but he is a coward, as all blusterers are, and turns pale when he finds that the Army of God is marching to seize him. He sends word to the barons that he will meet them at Runnymede on the 15th of June, and grant what they desire. The barons have written out their demands on parchment. They will have them in writing, and the agreement shall be the law of the land.

John rides down from the Castle, accompanied by a cavalcade, through Windsor forest, where the deer are feeding, and where pheasants are building their nests, and meets the barons on an island in the river. He is so frightened that he does not ask the barons to make any modification of their demands, but grants what they desire. A great piece of beeswax, as large as a saucer, and an inch thick, is stamped with John's seal, and attached to the parchment.

Then the king rides back to the Castle, moody and gloomy; but as soon as he gets inside the fortress, he rages like a madman, walks the hall, smiting his fists, rolling his eyes, gnashing his teeth, biting sticks and chewing straws, cursing the barons, and swearing that he will have his revenge.

Parliament and Trial by Jury

What is this document to which the king's seal has been attached? It is a paper establishing a Great Council, composed of the barons, the archbishops, bishops, and earls, whom the king is to summon from time to time by name, and the lesser barons, who are to be summoned by the sheriffs of the counties. Together, they are to be a Parliament.

Hereafter the king shall not levy any taxes that he may please, or compel people to drive their cattle into camp. The Parliament shall say what taxes shall be levied. The barons may choose twenty-five of their number, who shall see that the provisions of the agreement are carried out.

Another agreement is that no freeman shall be punished until he has had a trial by his equals. There are other stipulations, but these are the most important. The agreement is called in Latin the "Magna Charta" or the "Great Charter."

John Lackland plans his revenge. There is a powerful man in Rome, the most powerful man on earth, who will aid him-Pope Innocent III. He claims to be, God's representative on earth, and the barons and everybody else regard him as such. He has all power. The people have been taught to believe that he is the only individual in the world who has the right to say what men shall believe and what they shall do, and that he can do no wrong; that what he says is right is right. He is superior to all kings and emperors.

Just after the great battle of Hastings, which was fought in October 1066, Pope Gregory VII made these declarations for himself and for all popes after him:

"To the Pope belongs the right of making new laws. All the princes of the earth shall kiss his feet. He has the right to remove emperors from power. The sentence of the Pope can be revoked by none. He can be judged by none. None may dare to pronounce sentence upon anyone who appeals to the Pope. He never has erred, nor can he ever err. He can loose subject from the oath of fealty (the pledge of allegiance between two people sworn before God and binding). The Pope is holy. He can do no wrong."

John has already humiliated himself before the Pope, and acknowledged him as his superior in everything. He sends a copy of the Charter, that the Pope may read it, begging to be released from keeping his oath.

The Pope is very angry when he reads the Charter, for he sees that it encroaches upon his authority, taking political affairs out of his hands. He swears a terrible oath that the barons shall be punished for daring to take such liberties. He releases John from his oath, and sends word to the barons that if they do not renounce the Charter he will excommunicate them.

The English Stand Up for Liberty

The barons are not frightened, however, and send back this reply:

"It is not the Pope's business to meddle with the political affairs or the rights and liberties of Englishmen."

The Pope excommunicates them, and aids John in stirring up the people to fight the barons. He excommunicates the Archbishop of Canterbury, the highest prelate in England, who officiates in Canterbury Cathedral, and who sides with the barons. The barons, seeing that the Pope and John together are too strong for them, offer the crown to Lewis, son of the King of France. The French king is quite willing to send an army to help them. John marches along the sea-coast to prevent the landing of the French, and comes to a low place when the tide is out; but the tide comes in suddenly with a rush and roar, and he loses all his carriages, treasure, baggage, regalia, and many of his soldiers, and is obliged to flee.

A few months later, broken down by fever, by disappointment" and rage, he dies at Norwich, and his son, Henry III comes to the throne.

There are two classes of people in England-the upper and the lower class--the barons and the villains. A villain in the nineteenth century is a swindler, a cheat; but six hundred years ago a villain was a poorman who worked for his living. He was a serf, and owed allegiance to the barons. The villains could not own any land, nor could they own themselves. They had no rights nor liberties.

The barons are a few hundreds-the villains are several millions. The barons, while demanding their own liberties, are not thinking of obtaining any liberties for the villains. It does not occur to them that a villain has any rights or liberties. Little do they know, however, of what will grow out of that parchment.

Many centuries have passed since that 15th of June, in 1215, at Runnymede; the meadows are as fresh and green as then; the river winds as peacefully as it has through all the years. England and America have become great and powerful nations; but would they have been what they are if the Army of God had not won that victory over John Lackland?

No; for out of that Charter have come the Parliament of Great Britain and the Congress of the United States, and many other things. It was the first great step of the English people toward freedom. That parchment, crumpled and worn and yellow with time, with the great round seal attached to it, lies in a glass case in the British Museum, London. The parchment is but a piece of sheepskin; the wax was made by the bees, which hummed amidst the hawthorn hedges of old England hundreds of years ago. The parchment and the wax are of very little account in themselves, but what has come from them is of infinite value. As this story goes on, it will be seen that the assembling of the Army of God in the meadow of Runnymede was the beginning of the liberty which we now enjoy.

Editor's Note: In 2000 AD, 685 years after the persecution of the nobles who forced King John to sign the Magna Carta, Pope John Paul II, in "a desire to purify the soul of the Roman Catholic Church by making a sweeping apology for the years of violence, persecution and blunders, sought forgiveness for sins committed against Jews, heretics, women, Gypsies and native people. He stated, " We forgive and we ask forgiveness. We are asking pardon for the divisions among Christians, for the use of violence that some have committed in the service of truth, and for attitudes of misturst and hostility assumed towards followers of other religions." The Guardian Unlimited, The Pope says sorry for sins of church, <www.guardian.cp.uk/international/story/0,3604,2304477,000.html>