It was the night of the 19th of October, 1216, the day after the Feast of St. Luke, when John felt that death had come to claim its prey. He moved his head, and raised his hand.
“I commit my soul to God, and my body to St. Wulstan,” said he, suddenly, and, throwing up his arms, he instantly expired.
From the circumstance of John having committed his body to St. Wulstan, his corpse was conveyed to the cathedral of Worcester, of which St. Wulstan was patron, and, his head having been wrapped in a monk’s cowl, which in that age was deemed a protection against evil spirits, he was laid at rest before the high altar.
It really seemed, after the death of John, as if the Plantagenets had ceased to reign in England, and that all hope of a great national royalty had vanished. It was difficult, indeed, to believe that the monarchy could be preserved, surrounded as it was by foreign and domestic foes leagued for its destruction, and who held most of the chief castles and cities in the kingdom, the capital included. One man of high rank, destined to save all by his moderation and energy--moderation in the midst of violence, and energy in spite of old age--remained faithful and firm. This was William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke, a man whose hair was white, and who had seen many years; but whose frame time had not bent, and whose spirit trouble had not broken.
The name of the great earl--albeit of European renown in his own day--does not occupy a very large space in English history, considering the service he rendered England. But the effects of his prudent conduct and disinterested patriotism are visible in the England in which we live. Indeed, the influence which he exercised was immense; and it is necessary, in order to comprehend the events which rendered the year 1217 so memorable, to know something of the career and character of the warrior-statesman on whom devolved the responsibility of redeeming the errors--so numerous, and glaring, and gross--that had been committed both by his friends and by their foes. Personal foes he appears to have had none; and what was said by Lord Clarendon of the great Duke of Ormond might with justice be said of Pembroke, “that he either had no enemies, or only such as were ashamed to profess that they were so.”