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 plunged England into that great war with France which lasted off and on for 100 years. In the beginning, I think, he could hardly help fighting. At the best of times England and France were rather like two fierce, well-fed dogs, the doors of whose kennels looked right into each other. Edward had wisely begun his reign with several serious attempts to conquer Scotland, and had won a great battle at Halidon Hill in Berwickshire, while, all the time, French help was being poured into Scotland. Then, again, the French never ceased their attempts to eat up our old ally, Flanders, now more than ever necessary to English trade. Finally, no English King of any spirit could refuse to defend Gascony, our one foreign possession. The war opened with a great English victory on the seas, at Sluys off the River Scheldt (1340); and, just before this victory, Edward had been persuaded by the Flemings to come to their help on land and to take the title of ‘King of France’. By English law his claim to the French crown would have been a good one, because his mother was the daughter of King Philip IV, but French law did not recognize that a man could inherit a kingdom through his mother. However, from this time forward until 1802, all English Kings called themselves ‘Kings of France’ and put the French Lilies beside the English Leopards on their Royal Standard. This was the most expensive piece of gardening on record, but the war gave the English a long experience in hard knocks which stood them in good stead.

Edward had in him a good deal of the ‘knight-errant’, the sort of brave, reckless rider who was supposed to go about seeking adventures, rescuing ladies in distress, and cutting the throats of giants.