Day 52: Irritated People in the British Library

Another Magna Carta

The British Library is a pain to visit. After you figure out a non-work entrance (none of which are titled or have doors), you are uncomfortably introduced to an old guard clearly irritated at having to check bags that morning. Then the students upstairs glare at your touristish gait as you amble through their reading rooms like some cardless invader—but of course, none of them are willing to point you in the right direction. But upon discovering (purely by accident) the quiet darkened gallery, I was surprised to find it so unintimidating and decided to stay.

The Sacred Texts section calls for a second look; after admiring the gold-leaf lettering of ninth century Bibles, the illuminated Jain, Sikh, Hindu, and Buddhist texts are utterly stunning. Off to the side of Sacred Texts was a room titled MAGNA CARTA. Like the one in Salisbury, these copies lay under several inches of bullet-proof glass and offered little space to see. After I had finished congratulating myself on seeing three copies of the Magna Carta in such quick succession, I began to investigate the other information in the tiny vestibule. There were bishops’ revised documents, a video explaining the main ideas, and a timeline from 1100 to after 1776. It was here that I learned about the political turmoil that precipitated its drafting. What a political triumph that even the king was now subject to rule of law!

It was then that I began to compare these two originals with the Magna Carta in Salisbury Cathedral. If the document has such obvious political ends, why is it found in a monstrous chapter house? Is it a sacred document, or merely the triumph of the papacy against malicious King John? And what does it have to do with the growth of Christianity in England?

The Charter’s original drafting is evidence of entrenched Christianity in the political scene of thirteenth century England. King John was a despicable character when it came to taxes and arbitrary punishment, but I suspect that it was his conflicting with Rome that encouraged the barons to voice their displeasure. In the aftermath of Canterbury being left without a succeeding archbishop, John naturally favored one of his own men so as to influence this church stronghold. Pope Innocent III put up a fight and eventually excommunicated the king and pulled most of the clergy. Although the peasantry did not revolt against the king, they no doubt mentioned their displeasure and even fear of non-salvation to their barons. If the king could reject the Pope, that could be tantamount to rejecting God, which no doubt inspired hellfire fear. The question then became “Who is greater, the king or God?”

To the politically-strapped barons, the answer was plain. The king would have to be subject to the same laws as the rest of God’s children. The spiritual implications of the Magna Carta really struck me in Salisbury’s chapter house; without arbitrary punishment, regular people began to see the limits of royal power, gain faith in God (who has unending power) as well as dependable laws, and thus find conviction in God and country, rather than just one or the other. Naturally the Magna Carta could not cure all the troubles of throne and Rome: it would be several centuries before Henry VIII would claim them both together and pave the way for the Reformation in England, but no longer did people have much to fear from a monarch’s bad moods or immoral decisions. I believe it was this document that led Christianity to spread so widely across Europe—by limiting the king’s power, the larger influence of Catholicism would reach the far corners and mold the nation.