| By Author | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Title | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Language |
|
Download this book: [ ASCII ] Look for this book on Amazon Tweet |
Title: England under the Angevin Kings, Volume II
Author: Norgate, Kate
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "England under the Angevin Kings, Volume II" ***
This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.
KINGS, VOLUME II ***
Transcriber’s Note
Words in italics are marked with _underscores_.
Words in small capitals are shown in UPPER CASE.
Please see the note at the end of the book.
ENGLAND
UNDER
THE ANGEVIN KINGS
[Illustration: Publisher’s colophon]
ENGLAND
UNDER
THE ANGEVIN KINGS
BY
KATE NORGATE
IN TWO VOLUMES--VOL. II.
WITH MAPS AND PLANS
London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND NEW YORK
1887
_All rights reserved_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
ARCHBISHOP THOMAS, 1162–1164 1
Note A.--The Council of Woodstock 43
Note B.--The Council of Clarendon 44
CHAPTER II
HENRY AND ROME, 1164–1172 46
CHAPTER III
THE CONQUEST OF IRELAND, 795–1172 82
CHAPTER IV
HENRY AND THE BARONS, 1166–1175 120
CHAPTER V
THE ANGEVIN EMPIRE, 1175–1183 169
CHAPTER VI
THE LAST YEARS OF HENRY II., 1183–1189 229
CHAPTER VII
RICHARD AND ENGLAND, 1189–1194 273
CHAPTER VIII
THE LATER YEARS OF RICHARD, 1194–1199 332
CHAPTER IX
THE FALL OF THE ANGEVINS, 1199–1206 388
Note.--The Death of Arthur 429
CHAPTER X
THE NEW ENGLAND, 1170–1206 431
LIST OF MAPS
III. IRELAND, A.D. 1172 _To face page_ 82
IV. MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE REBELLION OF 1173–1174 ” 149
V. FRANCE AND BURGUNDY _c._ 1180 ” 185
VI. EUROPE _c._ 1180 ” 189
VII. FRANCE AND THE ANGEVIN DOMINIONS, 1194 ” 359
PLANS
VII. LES ANDELYS AND CHÂTEAU-GAILLARD _To face page_ 375
VIII. CHÂTEAU-GAILLARD ” 378
CHAPTER I.
ARCHBISHOP THOMAS.
1162–1164.
Somewhat more than a year after the primate’s death, Thomas the
chancellor returned to England. He came, as we have seen, at the
king’s bidding, ostensibly for the purpose of securing the recognition
of little Henry as heir to the crown. But this was not the sole nor
even the chief object of his mission. On the eve of his departure--so
the story was told by his friends in later days--Thomas had gone to
take leave of the king at Falaise. Henry drew him aside: “You do not
yet know to what you are going. I will have you to be archbishop of
Canterbury.” The chancellor took, or tried to take, the words for a
jest. “A saintly figure indeed,” he exclaimed with a smiling glance at
his own gay attire, “you are choosing to sit in that holy seat and to
head that venerable convent! No, no,” he added with sudden earnestness,
“I warn you that if such a thing should be, our friendship would soon
turn to bitter hate. I know your plans concerning the Church; you will
assert claims which I as archbishop must needs oppose; and the breach
once made, jealous hands would take care that it should never be healed
again.” The words were prophetic; they sum up the whole history of
the pontificate of Thomas Becket. Henry, however, in his turn passed
them over as a mere jest, and at once proclaimed his intention to the
chancellor’s fellow-envoys, one of whom was the justiciar, Richard de
Lucy. “Richard,” said the king, “if I lay dead in my shroud, would
you earnestly strive to secure my first-born on my throne?” “Indeed I
would, my lord, with all my might.” “Then I charge you to strive no
less earnestly to place my chancellor on the metropolitan chair of
Canterbury.”[1]
[1] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 180, 182.
Cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 63–67.
Thomas was appalled. He could not be altogether taken by surprise;
he knew what had been Theobald’s wishes and hopes; he knew that from
the moment of Theobald’s death all eyes had turned instinctively upon
himself with the belief that the future of the Church rested wholly
in his all-powerful hands; he could not but suspect the king’s own
intentions,[2] although the very suspicion would keep him silent,
and all the more so because those intentions ran counter to his own
desires. For twelve months he had known that the primacy was within his
reach; he had counted the cost, and he had no mind to pay it. He was
incapable of undertaking any office without throwing his whole energies
into the fulfilment of its duties; his conception of the duties of the
primate of all Britain would involve the sacrifice not only of those
secular pursuits which he so keenly enjoyed, but also of that personal
friendship and political co-operation with the king which seemed almost
an indispensable part of the life of both; and neither sacrifice was
he disposed to make. He had said as much to an English friend who had
been the first to hint at his coming promotion,[3] and he repeated it
now with passionate earnestness to Henry himself, but all in vain. The
more he resisted, the more the king insisted--the very frankness of his
warnings only strengthening Henry’s confidence in him; and when the
legate Cardinal Henry of Pisa urged his acceptance as a sacred duty,
Thomas at last gave way.[4]
[2] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 180. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.),
p. 14. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 63.
[3] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 25,
26.
[4] Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), pp. 7, 8. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.
iv.), p. 18. Anon. II. (_ib._), p. 86.
The council in London was no sooner ended than Richard de Lucy and
three of the bishops[5] hurried to Canterbury, by the king’s orders,
to obtain from the cathedral chapter the election of a primate in
accordance with his will. The monks of Christ Church were never very
easy to manage; in the days of the elder King Henry they had firmly
and successfully resisted the intrusion of a secular clerk into the
monastic chair of S. Augustine; and a strong party among them now
protested that to choose for pastor of the flock of Canterbury a
man who was scarcely a clerk at all, who was wholly given to hawks
and hounds and the worldly ways of the court, would be no better
than setting a wolf to guard a sheepfold. But their scruples were
silenced by the arguments of Richard de Lucy and by their dread
of the royal wrath, and in the end Thomas was elected without a
dissentient voice.[6] The election was repeated in the presence of a
great council[7] held at Westminster on May 23,[8] and ratified by
the bishops and clergy there assembled.[9] Only one voice was raised
in protest; it was that of Gilbert Foliot,[10] who, alluding doubtless
to the great scutage, declared that Thomas was utterly unfit for the
primacy, because he had persecuted the Church of God.[11] The protest
was answered by Henry of Winchester in words suggested by Gilbert’s
own phrase: “My son,” said the ex-legate, addressing Thomas, “if thou
hast been hitherto as Saul the persecutor, be thou henceforth as Paul
the Apostle.”[12]
[5] E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 366. The bishops were Exeter,
Chichester and Rochester; Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 16, 17, Anon.
I. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), pp. 14–16, and Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 169; this last alone names Rochester, and
adds another envoy--Abbot Walter of Battle, Chichester’s old
adversary and the justiciar’s brother.
[6] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 17. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. ii.), pp. 366, 367. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp.
183–185. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 16. _Thomas Saga_
(Magnusson, vol. i. p. 73) has quite a different version of the
result.
[7] Anon. I. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 17. Will.
Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 9. Garnier, as above. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 169. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 306.
[8] The Wednesday before Pentecost. R. Diceto (as above), p.
307.
[9] Garnier, Will. Cant., Anon. I., as above. R. Diceto (as
above), p. 306. Gerv. Cant. (as above), p. 170. All these
writers either say or imply that the council represented, or
was meant to represent, the entire _clerus et populus_ of all
England; except R. Diceto, who says: “clero totius provinciæ
_Cantuariorum_ generaliter Lundoniæ convocato” (p. 306). Cf.
_Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 73–77; Will. Fitz-Steph.
(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 36; and Herb. Bosh.
(_ib._), p. 184.
[10] Garnier, Will. Cant., Will. Fitz-Steph. and Anon. I. as
above. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), p. 367. Will.
Cant., E. Grim and the Anon. call him “bishop of London” by
anticipation.
[11] “Destruite ad seinte Iglise.” Garnier, as above.
[12] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 18.
The election was confirmed by the great officers of state and the
boy-king in his father’s name;[13] the consecration was fixed for the
octave of Pentecost, and forthwith the bishops began to vie with each
other for the honour of performing the ceremony. Roger of York, who
till now had stood completely aloof, claimed it as a privilege due to
the dignity of his see; but the primate-elect and the southern bishops
declined to accept his services without a profession of canonical
obedience to Canterbury, which he indignantly refused.[14] The bishop
of London, on whom as dean of the province the duty according to
ancient precedent should have devolved, was just dead;[15] Walter
of Rochester momentarily put in a claim to supply his place,[16]
but withdrew it in deference to Henry of Winchester, who had lately
returned from Cluny, and whose royal blood, venerable character, and
unique dignity as father of the whole English episcopate, marked him
out beyond all question as the most fitting person to undertake the
office.[17] By way of compensation, it was Walter who, on the Saturday
in Whitsun-week, raised the newly-elected primate to the dignity of
priesthood.[18]
[13] _Ibid._ Anon. I. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 17.
Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 9. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p.
367. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 185.
[14] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 170.
[15] He died on May 4. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 306.
[16] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 188.
[17] Gerv. Cant., R. Diceto and Herb. Bosh. as above. MS.
Lansdown. II. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 155. Cf.
Anon. I. (_ib._), p. 19. There was another claimant, a Welsh
bishop, who asserted priority of consecration over all his
brother-prelates; so at least says Gerv. Cant., but one does
not see who he can have been.
[18] R. Diceto, as above.
Early next morning the consecration took place. Canterbury cathedral
has been rebuilt from end to end since that day; it is only imagination
which can picture the church of Lanfranc and Anselm and Theobald as
it stood on that June morning, the scarce-risen sun gleaming faintly
through its eastern windows upon the rich vestures of the fourteen
bishops[19] and their attendant clergy and the dark robes of the monks
who thronged the choir, while the nave was crowded with spectators,
foremost among whom stood the group of ministers surrounding the little
king.[20] From the vestry-door Thomas came forth, clad no longer in
the brilliant attire at which he had been jesting a few weeks ago, but
in the plain black cassock and white surplice of a clerk; through the
lines of staring, wondering faces he passed into the choir, and there
threw himself prostrate upon the altar-steps. Thence he was raised to
go through a formality suggested by the prudence of his consecrator.
To guard, as he hoped, against all risk of future difficulties which
might arise from Thomas’s connexion with the court, Henry of Winchester
led him down to the entrance of the choir, and in the name of the
Church called upon the king’s representatives to deliver over the
primate-elect fully and unreservedly to her holy service, freed from
all secular obligations, actual or possible. A formal quit-claim was
accordingly granted to Thomas by little Henry and the justiciars, in
the king’s name;[21] after which the bishop of Winchester proceeded to
consecrate him at once. A shout of applause rang through the church as
the new primate of all Britain was led up to his patriarchal chair;
but he mounted its steps with eyes downcast and full of tears.[22] To
him the day was one of melancholy foreboding; yet he made its memory
joyful in the Church for ever. He began his archiepiscopal career by
ordaining a new festival to be kept every year on that day--the octave
of Pentecost--in honour of the most Holy Trinity;[23] and in process of
time the observance thus originated spread from Canterbury throughout
the whole of Christendom, which thus owes to an English archbishop the
institution of Trinity Sunday.
[19] See the list in Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 170.
[20] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 188.
[21] MS. Lansdown. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 154, 155. Cf.
Anon. I. (_ib._), pp. 17, 18; Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.),
p. 9; E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 367; Herb. Bosh. (_ib._
vol. iii.), p. 185; Garnier (Hippeau), p. 19; and _Thomas
Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 81. All these place this scene
in London, immediately after the consecration. The three
first, however, seem to be only following Garnier; and the
words of Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii. p.
36), though not very explicit, seem rather to agree with the
MS. Lansdown. Garnier, Grim and the Anon. I. all expressly
attribute the suggestion to Henry of Winchester.
[22] Anon. I. (as above), p. 19.
[23] Gerv. Cant. as above.
“The king has wrought a miracle,” sneered the sarcastic bishop of
Hereford, Gilbert Foliot; “out of a soldier and man of the world he
has made an archbishop.”[24] The same royal power helped to smooth the
new primate’s path a little further before him. He was not, like most
of his predecessors, obliged to go in person to fetch his pallium from
Rome; an embassy which he despatched immediately after his consecration
obtained it for him without difficulty from Alexander III., who had
just been driven by the Emperor’s hostility to seek a refuge in France,
and was in no condition to venture upon any risk of thwarting King
Henry’s favourite minister.[25] The next messenger whom Thomas sent
over sea met with a less pleasant reception. He was charged to deliver
up the great seal into the king’s hands with a request that Henry would
provide himself with another chancellor, “as Thomas felt scarcely equal
to the cares of one office, far less to those of two.”[26]
[24] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 36.
[25] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 24, 25. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.) p. 9. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 189.
Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 172. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol.
i. p. 307. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 91–95.
[26] Will. Cant. (as above), p. 12. Cf. Garnier (Hippeau), p.
29, and R. Diceto as above.
Henry was both surprised and vexed. It was customary for the chancellor
to resign his office on promotion to a bishopric; but this sudden step
on the part of Thomas was quite unexpected, and upset a cherished
scheme of the king’s. He had planned to rival the Emperor by having an
archbishop for his chancellor, as the archbishops of Mainz and Cöln
were respectively arch-chancellors of Germany and Italy;[27] he had
certainly never intended, in raising his favourite to the primacy, to
deprive himself of such a valuable assistant in secular administration;
his aim had rather been to secure the services of Thomas in two
departments instead of one.[28] To take away all ground of scandal, he
had even procured a papal dispensation to sanction the union of the
two offices in a single person.[29] Thomas, however, persisted in his
resignation; and as there was no one whom Henry cared to put in his
place, the chancellorship remained vacant, while the king brooded over
his friend’s unexpected conduct and began to suspect that it was caused
by weariness of his service.
[27] R. Diceto (as above), p. 308. The real work of the office
in the Empire was, however, done by another chancellor, who at
this time was a certain Reginald, of whom we shall hear again
later on. “Cancellarius” plays almost as conspicuous and quite
as unclerkly a part in the Italian wars of Barbarossa as in the
French and Aquitanian wars of Henry.
[28] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 29. Cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson),
vol. i. pp. 69–71.
[29] Garnier, as above.
Meanwhile Thomas had entered upon the second phase of his strangely
varied career. He had “put off the deacon” for awhile; he was resolved
now to “put off the old man” wholly and for ever. No sooner was he
consecrated than he flung himself, body and soul, into his new life
with an ardour more passionate, more absorbing, more exclusive than
he had displayed in pursuit of the worldly tasks and pleasures of the
court. On the morrow of his consecration, when some jongleurs came to
him for the largesse which he had never been known to refuse, he gently
but firmly dismissed them; he was no longer, he said, the chancellor
whom they had known; his whole possessions were now a sacred trust, to
be spent not on actors and jesters but in the service of the Church and
the poor.[30] Theobald had doubled the amount of regular alms-givings
established by his predecessors; Thomas immediately doubled those of
Theobald.[31] To be diligent in providing for the sick and needy,
to take care that no beggar should ever be sent empty away from his
door,[32] was indeed nothing new in the son of the good dame Rohesia
of Caen. The lavish hospitality of the chancellor’s household, too,
was naturally transferred to that of the archbishop; but it took a
different tone and colour. All and more than all the old grandeur and
orderliness were there; the palace still swarmed with men-at-arms,
servants and retainers of all kinds, every one with his own appointed
duty, whose fulfilment was still carefully watched by the master’s
eyes; the bevy of high-born children had only increased, for by an
ancient custom the second son of a baron could be claimed by the
primate for his service--as the eldest by the king--until the age of
knighthood; a claim which Thomas was not slow to enforce, and which
the barons were delighted to admit. The train of clerks was of course
more numerous than ever. The tables were still laden with delicate
viands, served with the utmost perfection, and crowded with guests
of all ranks; Thomas was still the most courteous and gracious of
hosts. But the banquet wore a graver aspect than in the chancellor’s
hall. The knights and other laymen occupied a table by themselves,
where they talked and laughed as they listed; it was the clerks and
religious who now sat nearest to Thomas. He himself was surrounded
by a select group of clerks, his _eruditi_, his “learned men” as he
called them: men versed in Scriptural and theological lore, his chosen
companions in the study of Holy Writ into which he had plunged with
characteristic energy; while instead of the minstrelsy which had been
wont to accompany and inspire the gay talk at the chancellor’s table,
there was only heard, according to ecclesiastical custom, the voice of
the archbishop’s cross-bearer who sat close to his side reading from
some holy book: the primate and his confidential companions meanwhile
exchanging comments upon what was read, and discussing matters too
deep and solemn to interest unlearned ears or to brook unlearned
interruption.[33] Of the meal itself Thomas partook but sparingly;[34]
its remainder was always given away;[35] and every day twenty-six poor
men were brought into the hall and served with a dinner of the best,
before Thomas would sit down to his own midday meal.[36]
[30] MS. Lansdown. II. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 156.
[31] Anon. I. (_ibid._), p. 20. The Anon. II. (_ibid._), p.
90, and Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 307, say that to
this purpose he appropriated a _tithe_ of all his revenues--a
statement which reflects rather strangely upon the former
archbishops.
[32] Joh. Salisb. and Anon. I. as above. Anon. II. (as above),
pp. 89, 90.
[33] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 225–229.
On the _eruditi_ see _ib._ pp. 206, 207, 523–529.
[34] _Ib._ pp. 231–236. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 37.
Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 308. Anon. II. (_ib._ vol.
iv.), p. 89.
[35] Joh. Salisb. (as above), p. 307. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.
iv.), pp. 20, 21.
[36] Anon. II. (_ib._), p. 89.
The amount of work which he had got through by that time must have
been quite as great as in the busiest days of his chancellorship. The
day’s occupations ostensibly began about the hour of tierce, when the
archbishop came forth from his chamber and went either to hear or to
celebrate mass,[37] while a breakfast was given at his expense to a
hundred persons who were called his “poor prebendaries.”[38] After
mass he proceeded to his audience-chamber and there chiefly remained
till the hour of nones, occupied in hearing suits and administering
justice.[39] Nones were followed by dinner,[40] after which the primate
shut himself up in his own apartments with his _eruditi_[41] and spent
the rest of the day with them in business or study, interrupted only
by the religious duties of the canonical hours, and sometimes by a
little needful repose,[42] for his night’s rest was of the briefest. At
cock-crow he rose for prime; immediately afterwards there were brought
in to him secretly, under cover of the darkness, thirteen poor persons
whose feet he washed and to whom he ministered at table with the utmost
devotion and humility,[43] clad only in a hair-shirt which from the day
of his consecration he always wore beneath the gorgeous robes in which
he appeared in public.[44] He then returned to his bed, but only for
a very short time; long before any one else was astir he was again up
and doing, in company with one specially favoured disciple--the one who
tells the tale, Herbert of Bosham. In the calm silent hours of dawn,
while twelve other poor persons received a secret meal and had their
feet washed by the primate’s almoner in his stead, the two friends sat
eagerly searching the Scriptures together, till the archbishop chose
to be left alone[45] for meditation and confession, scourging and
prayer,[46] in which he remained absorbed until the hour of tierce
called him forth to his duties in the world.[47]
[37] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 208.
[38] _Ib._ p. 203.
[39] _Ib._ p. 219.
[40] _Ib._ p. 225.
[41] _Ib._ pp. 236, 237.
[42] _Ib._ p. 238.
[43] _Ib._ p. 199. Cf. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 38, and
Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 307.
[44] On the hair-shirt see MS. Lansdown. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.),
p. 154; Anon. I. (_ibid._), p. 20; Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.),
p. 10; Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 196, 199; Garnier
(Hippeau), p. 23. On Thomas’s troubles about his dress and
how he settled them see Garnier, pp. 19, 20, 23; Anon. I. (as
above), p. 21; E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 368; Herb. Bosh.
(_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 196. On his whole manner of life after
consecration cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 95–111.
[45] Herb. Bosh. (as above), pp. 202–205.
[46] Anon. II. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 88.
[47] Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 205.
He was feverishly anxious to lose no opportunity of making up for his
long neglect of the Scriptural and theological studies befitting his
sacred calling. He openly confessed his grievous inferiority in this
respect to many of his own clerks, and put himself under their teaching
with child-like simplicity and earnestness. The one whom he specially
chose for monitor and guide, Herbert of Bosham, was a man in whom,
despite his immeasurable inferiority, one can yet see something of a
temper sufficiently akin to that of Thomas himself to account for their
mutual attraction, and perhaps for some of their joint errors. As they
rode from London to Canterbury on the morrow of the primate’s election
he had drawn Herbert aside and laid upon him a special charge to watch
with careful eyes over his conduct as archbishop, and tell him without
stint or scruple whatever he saw amiss in it or heard criticized by
others.[48] Herbert, though he worshipped his primate with a perfect
hero-worship, never hesitated to fulfil this injunction to the letter
as far as his lights would permit; but unluckily his zeal was even
less tempered by discretion than that of Thomas himself. He was a far
less safe guide in the practical affairs of life than in the intricate
paths of abstract and mystical interpretation of Holy Writ in which
he and Thomas delighted to roam together. Often, when no other quiet
time could be found, the archbishop would turn his horse aside as
they travelled along the road, beckon to his friend, draw out a book
from its hiding-place in one of his wide sleeves, and plunge into an
eager discussion of its contents as they ambled slowly on.[49] When at
Canterbury, his greatest pleasure was to betake himself to the cloister
and sit reading like a lowly monk in one of its quiet nooks.[50]
[48] _Ib._ p. 186.
[49] _Ib._ p. 206.
[50] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._), pp. 38, 39.
But the _eruditi_ of Thomas, like the disciples of Theobald, were
the confidants and the sharers of far more than his literary and
doctrinal studies. It was in those evening hours which he spent in
their midst, secluded from all outside interruption, that the plans
of Church reform and Church revival, sketched long ago by other hands
in the _Curia Theobaldi_, assumed a shape which might perhaps have
startled Theobald himself. As the weeks wore quickly away from Trinity
to Ember-tide, the new primate set himself to grapple at once with
the ecclesiastical abuses of the time in the persons of his first
candidates for ordination. On his theory the remedy for these abuses
lay in the hands of the bishops, and especially of the metropolitans,
who fostered simony, worldliness and immorality among the clergy by the
facility with which they admitted unqualified persons into high orders,
thus filling the ranks of the priesthood with unworthy, ignorant and
needy clerks, who either traded upon their sacred profession as a
means to secular advancement, or disgraced it by the idle wanderings
and unbecoming shifts to which the lack of fit employment drove them
to resort for a living. He was determined that no favour or persuasion
should ever induce him to ordain any man whom he did not know to be
of saintly life and ample learning, and provided with a benefice
sufficient to furnish him with occupation and maintenance; and he
proclaimed and acted upon his determination with the zeal of one who,
as he openly avowed, felt that he was himself the most glaring example
of the evils resulting from a less stringent system of discipline.[51]
[51] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 238–247.
His next undertaking was one which almost every new-made prelate in any
degree alive to the rights and duties of his office found it needful to
begin as soon as possible: the recovery of the alienated property of
his see. Gilbert Foliot, the model English bishop of the day, had no
sooner been consecrated than he wrote to beg the Pope’s support in this
important and troublesome matter.[52] It may well be that even fourteen
years later the metropolitan see had not yet received full restitution
for the spoliations of the anarchy. Thomas however set to work in the
most sweeping fashion, boldly laying claim to every estate which he
could find to have been granted away by his predecessors on grounds
which did not satisfy his exalted ideas of ecclesiastical right, or
on terms which he held detrimental to the interest and dignity of his
church, and enforcing his claims without respect of persons; summarily
turning out those who held the archiepiscopal manors in ferm,[53]
disputing with the earl of Clare for jurisdiction over the castle and
district of Tunbridge, and reclaiming, on the strength of a charter of
the Conqueror, the custody of Rochester castle from the Crown itself.
Such a course naturally stirred up for him a crowd of enemies, and
increased the jealousy, suspicion and resentment which his new position
and altered mode of life had already excited among the companions and
rivals of his earlier days. The archbishop however was still, like the
chancellor, protected against them by the shield of the royal favour;
they could only work against him by working upon the mind of Henry.
One by one they carried over sea their complaints of the wrongs which
they had suffered, or with which they were threatened, at the primate’s
hands;[54] they reported all his daily doings and interpreted them in
the worst sense:--his strictness of life was superstition, his zeal for
justice was cruelty, his care for his church avarice, his pontifical
splendour pride, his vigour rashness and self-conceit:[55]--if the king
did not look to it speedily, he would find his laws and constitutions
set at naught, his regal dignity trodden under foot, and himself and
his heirs reduced to mere cyphers dependent on the will and pleasure of
the archbishop of Canterbury.[56]
[52] Gilb. Foliot, Ep. lxxxvii. (Giles, vol. i., p. 113).
[53] E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.) pp. 371, 372.
Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.) pp. 250, 251. _Thomas Saga_
(Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 117–121.
[54] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 252. _Thomas Saga_ (as above),
p. 121.
[55] Joh. Salisb. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.) pp. 309, 310.
Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.) pp. 91, 92.
[56] Joh. Salisb. (as above), p. 310. E. Grim (_ibid._) p. 372.
Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 92. Cf. Arn. Lisieux, Ep. 34
(Giles, pp. 148, 149).
At the close of the year Henry determined to go and see for himself the
truth of these strange rumours.[57] The negotiations concerning the
papal question had detained him on the continent throughout the summer;
in the end both he and Louis gave a cordial welcome to Alexander, and
a general pacification was effected in a meeting of the two kings and
the Pope which took place late in the autumn at Chouzy on the Loire.
Compelled by contrary winds to keep Christmas at Cherbourg instead of
in England as he had hoped,[58] the king landed at Southampton on S.
Paul’s day.[59] Thomas, still accompanied by the little Henry, was
waiting to receive him; the two friends met with demonstrations of the
warmest affection, and travelled to London together in the old intimate
association.[60] One subject of disagreement indeed there was; Thomas
had actually been holding for six months the archdeaconry of Canterbury
together with the archbishopric, and this Henry, after several vain
remonstrances, now compelled him to resign.[61] They parted however in
undisturbed harmony, the archbishop again taking his little pupil with
him.[62]
[57] Anon. II. as above.
[58] Rob. Torigni, a. 1162.
[59] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 252. The
date is given by R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 308.
[60] Herb. Bosh. (as above), pp. 252, 253. Anon. II. (_ib._
vol. iv.), p. 92. R. Diceto (as above) tells a different tale;
but Herbert is surely a better authority on these personal
matters. Cf. also _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp.
121–123.
[61] R. Diceto, as above.
[62] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 253.
The first joint work of king and primate was the translation of Gilbert
Foliot from Hereford to London. Some of those who saw its consequences
in after-days declared that Henry had devised the scheme for the
special purpose of securing Gilbert’s aid against the primate;[63]
but it is abundantly clear that no such thought had yet entered his
mind, and that the suggestion of Gilbert’s promotion really came from
Thomas himself.[64] Like every one else, he looked upon Gilbert as the
greatest living light of the English Church; he expected to find in him
his own most zealous and efficient fellow-worker in the task which lay
before him as metropolitan, as well as his best helper in influencing
the king for good. Gilbert was in fact the man who in the natural
fitness of things had seemed marked out for the primacy; failing that,
it was almost a matter of necessity that he should be placed in the
see which stood next in dignity, and where both king and primate could
benefit by his assistance ever at hand, instead of having to seek out
their most useful adviser in the troubled depths of the Welsh marches.
The chapter of London, to whom during the pecuniary troubles and long
illness of their late bishop Gilbert had been an invaluable friend
and protector, were only too glad to elect him; and his world-wide
reputation combined with the pleadings of Henry to obtain the Pope’s
consent to his translation,[65] which was completed by his enthronement
in S. Paul’s cathedral on April 28, 1163.[66]
[63] Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above), p. 46.
[64] This is the statement of Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv. p. 98)
and Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 173), fully borne out by
the letters of Thomas.
[65] Epp. xvi.–xix. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp. 24–30).
Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 255, 256. Cf. Anon. II.
(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 98.
[66] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 309.
The king spent the early summer in subduing South-Wales; the primate,
in attending a council held by Pope Alexander at Tours.[67] From the
day of his departure to that of his return Thomas’s journey was one
long triumphal progress; Pope and cardinals welcomed him with such
honours as had never been given to any former archbishop of Canterbury,
hardly even to S. Anselm himself;[68] and the request which he made to
the Pope for Anselm’s canonization[69] may indicate the effect which
they produced on his mind--confirming his resolve to stand boldly upon
his right of opposition to the secular power whenever it clashed with
ecclesiastical theories of liberty and justice. The first opportunity
for putting his resolve in practice arose upon a question of purely
temporal administration at a council held by Henry at Woodstock on
July 31, after his return from Wales. The Welsh princes came to swear
fealty to Henry and his heir; Malcolm of Scotland came to confirm his
alliance with the English Crown by doing homage in like manner to the
little king.[70] Before the council broke up, however, Henry met the
sharpest constitutional defeat which had befallen any English sovereign
since the Norman conquest, and that at the hands of his own familiar
friend.
[67] According to Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 173, and
Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 14 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 135), it opened
on Trinity Sunday, May 19; according to R. Diceto (as above),
p. 310, on May 21. The _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp.
123–127, makes out that Thomas’s chief object in going there
was to obtain confirmation of certain privileges of his see.
Cf. also the account of this council in _Draco Norm._, l. iii.
cc. 13–15, vv. 949–1224 (Howlett, _Will. Newb._, vol. ii. pp.
742–751).
[68] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 253–255.
_Thomas Saga_ (as above), pp. 129, 131.
[69] Ep. xxiii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. p. 35).
[70] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 311.
The king had devised a new financial project for increasing his own
revenue at the expense of the sheriffs. According to current practice,
a sum of two shillings annually from every hide of land in the shire
was paid to those officers for their services to the community in
its administration and defence. This payment, although described as
customary rather than legal,[71] and called the “sheriff’s aid,”[72]
seems really to have been nothing else than the Danegeld, which still
occasionally made its appearance in the treasury rolls, but in such
small amount that it is evident the sheriffs, if they collected it
in full, paid only a fixed composition to the Crown and kept the
greater part as a remuneration for their own labours. Henry now, it
seems, proposed to transfer the whole of these sums from the sheriff’s
income to his own, and have it enrolled in full among the royal dues.
Whether he intended to make compensation to the sheriffs from some
other source, or whether he already saw the need of curbing their
influence and checking their avarice, we know not; but the archbishop
of Canterbury started up to resist the proposed change as an injustice
both to the receivers and to the payers of the aid. He seems to have
looked upon it as an attempt to re-establish the Danegeld with all the
odiousness attaching to its shameful origin and its unfair incidence,
and to have held it his constitutional duty as representative and
champion of the whole people to lift up his voice against it in their
behalf. “My lord king,” he said, “saving your good pleasure, we will
not give you this money as revenue, for it is not yours. To your
officers, who receive it as a matter of grace rather than of right, we
will give it willingly so long as they do their duty; but on no other
terms will we be made to pay it at all.”--“By God’s Eyes!” swore the
astonished and angry king, “what right have you to contradict me? I am
doing no wrong to any man of yours. I say the moneys shall be enrolled
among my royal revenues.”--“Then by those same Eyes,” swore Thomas in
return, “not a penny shall you have from my lands, or from any lands of
the Church!”[73]
[71] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 30. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 12. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 373.
Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 23.
[72] “L’Aïde al Vescunte.” Garnier, as above.
[73] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 30. Cf. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 12. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 374.
Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 23, 24.
How the debate ended we are not told; but one thing we know: from that
time forth the hated name of “Danegeld” appeared in the Pipe Rolls no
more. It seems therefore that, for the first time in English history
since the Norman conquest, the right of the nation’s representatives
to oppose the financial demands of the Crown was asserted in the
council of Woodstock, and asserted with such success that the king
was obliged not merely to abandon his project, but to obliterate the
last trace of the tradition on which it was founded. And it is well
to remember, too, that the first stand made by Thomas of Canterbury
against the royal will was made in behalf not of himself or his order
but of his whole flock;--in the cause not of ecclesiastical privilege
but of constitutional right. The king’s policy may have been really
sounder and wiser than the primate’s; but the ground taken by Thomas
at Woodstock entitles him none the less to a place in the line of
patriot-archbishops of which Dunstan stands at the head.[74]
[74] On the different account of this affair given in the
_Thomas Saga_, and the view which has been founded on it, see
note A at end of chapter.
The next few weeks were occupied with litigation over the alienated
lands of the metropolitan see. A crowd of claims put in by Thomas and
left to await the king’s return now came up for settlement, the most
important case being that of Earl Roger of Clare, whom Thomas had
summoned to perform his homage for Tunbridge at Westminster on July
22. Roger answered that he held the entire fief by knight-service, to
be rendered in the shape of money-payment,[75] of the king and not of
the primate.[76] As Roger was connected with the noblest families in
England,[77] king and barons were strongly on his side.[78] To settle
the question, Henry ordered a general inquisition to be made throughout
England to ascertain where the service of each land-holder was lawfully
due. The investigation was of course made by the royal justiciars; and
when they came to the archiepiscopal estates, one at least of the most
important fiefs in dispute was adjudged by them to the Crown alone.[79]
[75] “Publicis pensionibus persolvendis.” R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 311.
[76] _Ibid._
[77] And had moreover “the fairest sister in the whole
kingdom,” adds Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol.
iii.), p. 43.
[78] _Ibid._
[79] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 311.
Meanwhile a dispute on a question of church patronage arose between the
primate and a tenant-in-chief of the Crown, named William of Eynesford.
Thomas excommunicated his opponent without observing the custom which
required him to give notice to the king before inflicting spiritual
penalties on one of his tenants-in-chief.[80] Henry indignantly bade
him withdraw the sentence; Thomas refused, saying “it was not for the
king to dictate who should be bound or who loosed.”[81] The answer was
indisputable in itself; but it pointed directly to the fatal subject
on which the inevitable quarrel must turn: the relations and limits
between the two powers of the keys and the sword.
[80] _Ib._ pp. 311, 312. Will. Fitz-Steph. as above. The
object of this rule--one of the _avitæ consuetudines_--was,
as R. Diceto explains, to guard the king against the risk of
unwittingly associating with excommunicates.
[81] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.
Almost from his accession Henry seems to have been in some degree
contemplating and preparing for those great schemes of legal reform
which were to be the lasting glory of his reign. His earliest efforts
in this direction were merely tentative; the young king was at once
too inexperienced and too hard pressed with urgent business of all
kinds, at home and abroad, to have either capacity or opportunity for
great experiments in legislation. Throughout the past nine years,
however, the projects which floated before his mind’s eye had been
gradually taking shape; and now that he was at last freed for a while
from the entanglements of politics and war, the time had come when he
might begin to devote himself to that branch of his kingly duties for
which he probably had the strongest inclination, as he certainly had
the highest natural genius. He had by this time gained enough insight
into the nature and causes of existing abuses to venture upon dealing
with them systematically and in detail, and he had determined to begin
with a question which was allowed on all hands to be one of the utmost
gravity: the repression of crime in the clergy.
The origin of this difficulty was in the separation--needful perhaps,
but none the less disastrous in some of its consequences--made by
William the Conqueror between the temporal and ecclesiastical courts of
justice. In William’s intention the two sets of tribunals were to work
side by side without mutual interference save when the secular power
was called in to enforce the decisions of the spiritual judge. But in
practice the scheme was soon found to involve a crowd of difficulties.
The two jurisdictions were constantly coming into contact, and it was
a perpetual question where to draw the line between them. The struggle
for the investitures, the religious revival which followed it, the vast
and rapid developement of the canon law, with the increase of knowledge
brought to bear upon its interpretation through the revived study
of the civil law of Rome, gave the clergy a new sense of corporate
importance and strength, and a new position as a distinct order in
the state; the breakdown of all secular administration under Stephen
tended still further to exalt the influence of the canonical system
which alone retained some vestige of legal authority, and to throw
into the Church-courts a mass of business with which they had hitherto
had only an indirect concern, but which they alone now seemed capable
of treating. Their proceedings were conducted on the principles of
the canon law, which admitted of none but spiritual penalties; they
refused to allow any lay interference with the persons over whom they
claimed sole jurisdiction; and as these comprised the whole clerical
body in the widest possible sense, extending to all who had received
the lowest orders of the Church or who had taken monastic vows, the
result was to place a considerable part of the population altogether
outside the ordinary law of the land, and beyond the reach of adequate
punishment for the most heinous crimes. Such crimes were only too
common, and were necessarily fostered by this system of clerical
immunities; for a man capable of staining his holy orders with theft
or murder was not likely to be restrained by the fear of losing them,
which a clerical criminal knew to be the worst punishment in store for
him; and moreover, it was but too easy for the doers of such deeds to
shelter themselves under the protection of a privilege to which often
they had no real title. The king’s justiciars declared that in the nine
years since Henry’s accession more than a hundred murders, besides
innumerable robberies and lesser offences, had gone unpunished because
they were committed by clerks, or men who represented themselves to
be such.[82] The scandal was acknowledged on all hands; the spiritual
party in the Church grieved over it quite as loudly and deeply as
the lay reformers; but they hoped to remedy it in their own way, by
a searching reformation and a stringent enforcement of spiritual
discipline within the ranks of the clergy themselves. The subject had
first come under Henry’s direct notice in the summer of 1158, when
he received at York a complaint from a citizen of Scarborough that a
certain dean had extorted money from him by unjust means. The case was
tried, in the king’s presence, before the archbishop of the province,
two bishops, and John of Canterbury the treasurer of York. The dean
failed in his defence; and as it was proved that he had extorted the
money by a libel, an offence against which Henry had made a special
decree, some of the barons present were sent to see that the law had
its course. John of Canterbury, however, rose and gave it as the
decision of the spiritual judges that the money should be restored
to the citizen and the criminal delivered over to the mercy of his
metropolitan; and despite the justiciar’s remonstrances, they refused
to allow the king any rights in the matter. Henry indignantly ordered
an appeal to the archbishop of Canterbury; but he was called over sea
before it could be heard,[83] and had never returned to England until
now, when another archbishop sat in Theobald’s place.
[82] Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 16 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 140).
[83] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_), vol. iii. pp.
43–45.
That it was Thomas of London who sat there was far from being an
indication that Henry had forgotten the incident. It was precisely
because Henry in these last four years had thought over the question
of the clerical immunities and determined how to deal with it that
he had sought to place on S. Augustine’s chair a man after his own
heart. He aimed at reducing the position of the clergy, like all other
doubtful matters, to the standard of his grandfather’s time. He held
that he had a right to whatever his ancestors had enjoyed; he saw
therein nothing derogatory to either the Church or the primate, whom he
rather intended to exalt by making him his own inseparable colleague in
temporal administration and the supreme authority within the realm in
purely spiritual matters--thus avoiding the appeals to Rome which had
led to so much mischief, and securing for himself a representative to
whom he could safely intrust the whole work of government in England
as guardian of the little king,[84] while he himself would be free to
devote his whole energies to the management of his continental affairs.
He seems in fact to have hoped tacitly to repeal the severance of the
temporal and ecclesiastical jurisdictions, and bring back the golden
age of William and Lanfranc, if not that of Eadgar and Dunstan; and
for this he, not unnaturally, counted unreservedly upon Thomas. By
slow degrees he discovered his miscalculation. Thomas had given him
one direct warning which had been unheeded; he had warned him again
indirectly by resigning the chancellorship; now, when the king unfolded
his plans, he did not at once contradict him; he merely answered all
his arguments and persuasions with one set phrase:--“I will render unto
Cæsar the things that are Cæsar’s, and unto God the things that are
God’s.”[85]
[84] Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 92–94.
[85] _Ib._ pp. 94, 95.
In July occurred a typical case which brought matters to a crisis. A
clerk named Philip de Broi had been tried in the bishop of Lincoln’s
court for murder, had cleared himself by a legal compurgation, and had
been acquitted. The king, not satisfied, commanded or permitted the
charge to be revived, and the accused to be summoned to take his trial
at Dunstable before Simon Fitz-Peter, then acting as justice-in-eyre
in Bedfordshire, where Philip dwelt. Philip indignantly refused to
plead again in answer to a charge of which he had been acquitted,
and overwhelmed the judge with abuse, of which Simon on his return
to London made formal complaint to the king. Henry was furious,
swore his wonted oath “by God’s Eyes” that an insult to his minister
was an insult to himself, and ordered the culprit to be brought to
justice for the contempt of court and the homicide both at once. The
primate insisted that the trial should take place in his own court at
Canterbury, and to this Henry was compelled unwillingly to consent. The
charge of homicide was quickly disposed of; Philip had been acquitted
in a Church court, and his present judges had no wish to reverse its
decision. On the charge of insulting a royal officer they sentenced
him to undergo a public scourging at the hands of the offended person,
and to forfeit the whole of his income for the next two years, to be
distributed in alms according to the king’s pleasure. Henry declared
the punishment insufficient, and bitterly reproached the bishops with
having perverted justice out of favour to their order.[86] They denied
it; but a story which came up from the diocese of Salisbury[87] and
another from that of Worcester[88] tended still further to shew the
helplessness of the royal justice against the ecclesiastical courts
under the protection of the primate; and the latter’s blundering
attempts to satisfy the king only increased his irritation. Not only
did Thomas venture beyond the limits of punishment prescribed by the
canon law by causing a clerk who had been convicted of theft to be
branded as well as degraded,[89] but he actually took upon himself to
condemn another to banishment.[90] He hoped by these severe sentences
to appease the king’s wrath;[91] Henry, on the contrary, resented them
as an interference with his rights; what he wanted was not severe
punishment in isolated cases, but the power to inflict it in the
regular course of his own royal justice. At last he laid the whole
question before a great council which met at Westminster on October
1.[92]
[86] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 30–32. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 12, 13. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp.
374–376. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 45. Herb.
Bosh. (_ib._), pp. 265, 266. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp.
24, 25. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 313. There is another
version in _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 145.
[87] Herb. Bosh. (as above), pp. 264, 265. _Thomas Saga_ (as
above), p. 143.
[88] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.
[89] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp.
45, 46.
[90] Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 267.
[91] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 46.
[92] Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 266. Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.),
p. 95. _Summa Causæ_ (_ibid._), p. 201; this last gives the
date.
The king’s first proposition, that the bishops should confirm the old
customs observed in his grandfather’s days,[93] opened a discussion
which lasted far into the night. Henry himself proceeded to explain
his meaning more fully; he required, first, that the bishops should
be more strict in the pursuit of criminal clerks;[94] secondly, that
all such clerks, when convicted and degraded, should be handed over to
the secular arm for temporal punishment like laymen, according to the
practice usual under Henry I.;[95] and finally, that the bishops should
renounce their claim to inflict any temporal punishment whatever, such
as exile or imprisonment in a monastery, which he declared to be an
infringement of his regal rights over the territory of his whole realm
and the persons of all his subjects.[96] The primate, after vainly
begging for an adjournment till the morrow, retired to consult with
his suffragans.[97] When he returned, it was to set forth his view of
the “two swords”--the two jurisdictions, spiritual and temporal--in
terms which put an end to all hope of agreement with the king. He
declared the ministers of the Heavenly King exempt from all subjection
to the judgement of an earthly sovereign; the utmost that he would
concede was that a clerk once degraded should thenceforth be treated
as a layman and punished as such if he offended again.[98] Henry,
apparently too much astonished to argue further, simply repeated his
first question--“Would the bishops obey the royal customs?” “Aye,
saving our order,” was the answer given by the primate in the name and
with the consent of all.[99] When appealed to singly they all made the
same answer.[100] Henry bade them withdraw the qualifying phrase, and
accept the customs unconditionally; they, through the mouth of their
primate, refused;[101] the king raged and swore, but all in vain. At
last he strode suddenly out of the hall without taking leave of the
assembly;[102] and when morning broke they found that he had quitted
London.[103] Before the day was over, Thomas received a summons to
surrender some honours which he had held as chancellor and still
retained;[104] and soon afterwards the little Henry was taken out of
his care.[105]
[93] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 32. Anon. I. (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. iv.), pp. 25, 26. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 376.
[94] Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 96.
[95] _Ibid._ Cf. _Summa Causæ_ (_ib._), p. 202, Herb. Bosh.
(_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 266, and _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.
i. pp. 148, 149.
[96] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 267.
[97] _Summa Causæ_ (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 202. Their discussion
is given in _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 151.
[98] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 268–272.
Cf. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 22. The speech in _Thomas
Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 151–153, is much more moderate
in tone, but grants no more in substance.
[99] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 32. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 13. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 376.
Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 273. Anon. II. (_ib._ vol.
iv.), p. 97. Cf. Ep. ccxxv. (_ib._ vol. v. p. 527).
[100] For Hilary of Chichester’s attempt at evasion see Herb.
Bosh. (as above), pp. 273, 274, and _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson),
vol. i. p. 155.
[101] Garnier, E. Grim, Herb. Bosh., Anon. II., as above. For
this scene the _Saga_ (as above), pp. 153–155, substitutes a
wrangle between king and primate, which however comes to the
same result.
[102] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 274.
[103] _Ib._ p. 275. _Summa Causæ_ (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 205.
_Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 157.
[104] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 275.
[105] He was with his father at the council of Clarendon in
January 1164. _Summa Causæ_ (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 208.
The king’s wrath presently cooled so far that he invited the primate
to a conference at Northampton. They met on horseback in a field near
the town; high words passed between them; the king again demanded, and
the archbishop again refused, unconditional acceptance of the customs;
and in this determination they parted.[106] A private negotiation
with some of the other prelates--suggested, it was said, by the
diplomatist-bishop of Lisieux--was more successful; Roger of York and
Robert of Lincoln met the king at Gloucester and agreed to accept his
customs with no other qualification than a promise on his part to exact
nothing contrary to the rights of their order. Hilary of Chichester
not only did the same but undertook to persuade the primate himself.
In this of course he failed.[107] Some time before Christmas, however,
there came to the archbishop three commissioners who professed to be
sent by the Pope to bid him withdraw his opposition; Henry having,
according to their story, assured the Pope that he had no designs
against the clergy or the Church, and required nothing beyond a
verbal assent for the saving of his regal dignity.[108] On the faith
of their word Thomas met the king at Oxford,[109] and there promised
to accept the customs and obey the king “loyally and in good faith.”
Henry then demanded that as the archbishop had withstood him publicly,
so his submission should be repeated publicly too, in an assembly
of barons and clergy to be convened for that purpose.[110] This was
more than Thomas had been led to expect; but he made no objection,
and the Christmas season passed over in peace. Henry kept the feast
at Berkhampstead,[111] one of the castles lately taken from the
archbishop; Thomas at Canterbury, where he had just been consecrating
the great English scholar Robert of Melun--one of the three Papal
commissioners--to succeed Gilbert Foliot as bishop of Hereford.[112]
[106] Anon. I. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), pp. 27–29.
[107] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 33, 34. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 14, 15. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp.
377, 378. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 30–31. Cf. Herb. Bosh.
(_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 276, and _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.
i. p. 159.
[108] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 34, 35. Will. Cant. (as above),
p. 15. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 378. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.
iv.), p. 31. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 161. All, except the
Anon., seem to doubt the genuineness of the mission.
[109] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 277. The Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.
iv.), p. 32, and Garnier (Hippeau), p. 35, say Woodstock.
[110] Garnier, Will. Cant., Herb. Bosh. and _Thomas Saga_, as
above. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), p. 379. Anon.
I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 33, 34.
[111] Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 66, from Pipe Roll a. 1164.
[112] On December 22. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 176.
On S. Hilary’s day the proposed council met at the royal hunting-seat
of Clarendon near Salisbury.[113] Henry called upon the archbishop to
fulfil the promise he had given at Oxford and publicly declare his
assent to the customs. Thomas drew back. As he saw the mighty array
of barons round the king--as he looked over the ranks of his own
fellow-bishops--it flashed at last even upon his unsuspicious mind that
all this anxiety to draw him into such a public repetition of a scene
which he had thought to be final must cover something more than the
supposed papal envoys had led him to expect, and that those “customs”
which he had been assured were but a harmless word might yet become
a terrible reality if he yielded another step. His hesitation threw
the king into one of those paroxysms of Angevin fury which scared the
English and Norman courtiers almost out of their senses. Thomas alone
remained undaunted; the bishops stood “like a flock of sheep ready for
slaughter,” and the king’s own ministers implored the primate to save
them from the shame of having to lay violent hands upon him at their
sovereign’s command. For two days he stood firm; on the third two
knights of the Temple brought him a solemn assurance, on the honour
of their order and the salvation of their souls, that his fears were
groundless and that a verbal submission to the king’s will would end
the quarrel and restore peace to the Church. He believed them; and
though he still shrank from the formality, thus emptied of meaning, as
little better than a lie, yet for the Church’s sake he gave way. He
publicly promised to obey the king’s laws and customs loyally and in
good faith, and made all the other bishops do likewise.[114]
[113] On the date see note B at end of chapter.
[114] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 20–22, 36. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 16, 17. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp.
380–382. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 278, 279. Anon. I.
(_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 33–36. Anon. II. (_ibid._), p. 99. Cf.
_Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 163–167, and Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 177, 178.
The words were no sooner out of their mouths than Thomas learned how
just his suspicions had been. A question was instantly raised--what
were these customs? It was too late to discuss them that night; next
morning the king bade the oldest and wisest of the barons go and make
a recognition of the customs observed by his grandfather and bring
up a written report of them for ratification by the council.[115]
Nine days later[116] the report was presented. It comprised sixteen
articles, known ever since as the Constitutions of Clarendon.[117] Some
of them merely re-affirmed, in a more stringent and technical manner,
the rules of William the Conqueror forbidding bishops and beneficed
clerks to quit the realm or excommunicate the king’s tenants-in-chief
without his leave, and the terms on which the temporal position of
the bishops had been settled by the compromise between Henry I. and
Anselm at the close of the struggle for the investitures. Another
aimed at checking the abuse of appeals to Rome, by providing that no
appeal should be carried further than the archbishop’s court without
the assent of the king. The remainder dealt with the settlement of
disputes concerning presentations and advowsons, which were transferred
from the ecclesiastical courts to that of the king; the treatment
of excommunicate persons; the limits of the right of sanctuary as
regarding the goods of persons who had incurred forfeiture to the
Crown; the ordination of villeins; the jurisdiction over clerks accused
of crime; the protection of laymen cited before the Church courts
against episcopal and archidiaconal injustice; and the method of
procedure in suits concerning the tenure of Church lands.
[115] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 37. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 18. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 382.
Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 279. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.
iv.), p. 37. Anon. II. (_ibid._), p. 102. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 178.
[116] On the chronology see note B at end of chapter.
[117] Will. Cant. (as above), pp. 18–23; Gerv. Cant, (as
above), pp. 178–180; Stubbs, _Select Charters_, pp. 137–140.
The two articles last mentioned are especially remarkable. The former
provided that if a layman was accused before a bishop on insufficient
testimony, the sheriff should at the bishop’s request summon a jury
of twelve lawful men of the neighbourhood to swear to the truth or
falsehood of the charge.[118] The other clause decreed that when an
estate was claimed by a clerk in frank-almoign and by a layman as a
secular fief the question should be settled by the chief justiciar in
like manner on the recognition of twelve jurors.[119] The way in which
these provisions are introduced implies that the principle contained
in them was already well known in the country; it indicates that some
steps had already been taken towards a general remodelling of legal
procedure, intended to embrace all branches of judicial administration
and bring them all into orderly and harmonious working. In this view
the Constitutions of Clarendon were only part of a great scheme in
whose complete developement they might have held an appropriate and
useful place.[120] But the churchmen of the day, to whom they were thus
suddenly presented as an isolated fragment, could hardly be expected to
see in them anything but an engine of state tyranny for grinding down
the Church. Almost every one of them assumed, in some way or other,
the complete subordination of ecclesiastical to temporal authority;
the right of lay jurisdiction over clerks was asserted in the most
uncompromising terms; while the last clause of all, which forbade the
ordination of villeins without the consent of their lords, stirred
a nobler feeling than jealousy for mere class-privileges. Its real
intention was probably not to hinder the enfranchisement of serfs, but
simply to protect the landowners against the loss of services which,
being attached to the soil, they had no means of replacing, and very
possibly also to prevent the number of criminal clerks being further
increased by the admission of villeins anxious to escape from the
justice of their lords. But men who for ages had been trained to regard
the Church as a divinely-appointed city of refuge for all the poor and
needy, the oppressed and the enslaved, could only see the other side
of the measure and feel their inmost hearts rise up in the cry of a
contemporary poet--“Hath not God called us all, bond and free, to His
service?”[121]
[118] Const. Clarend. c. 6 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, pp. 138,
139).
[119] Const. Clarend. c. 9 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 139).
[120] It should be noticed that this was clearly understood,
and full justice was done to Henry’s intentions, not only
by the most impartial and philosophic historian of the
time--William of Newburgh (l. ii. c. 16; Howlett, vol. i. p.
140)--but even by Thomas’s most ardent follower, Herbert of
Bosham (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii. pp. 272, 273, 278, 280).
[121] “Et Deus à sun servise nus a tuz apelez!
Mielz valt filz à vilain qui est preuz et senez,
Que ne fet gentilz hum failliz et debutez!”
Garnier (Hippeau), p. 89. This, variously expressed, was the
grand argument of the clerical-democratic party, and the true
source of their strength. And they were not altogether wrong in
attributing the action of their opponents, in part at least,
to aristocratic contempt and exclusiveness--if we may trust
Gervase of Canterbury’s report of a complaint said to have
been uttered at a later time by the king: “Hi quoque omnes”
[_i.e._ the religious orders] “tales sibi fratres associant,
pelliparios scilicet et sutores, quorum nec unus deberet
instante necessitate in episcopum vel abbatem salvâ conscientiâ
nostrâ promoveri.” Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 540.
The discussion occupied six days;[122] as each clause was read out
to the assembly, Thomas rose and set forth his reasons for opposing
it.[123] When at last the end was reached, Henry called upon him and
all the bishops to affix their seals to the constitutions. “Never,”
burst out the primate--“never, while there is a breath left in my
body!”[124] The king was obliged to content himself with the former
verbal assent, gained on false pretences as it had been; a copy of
the obnoxious document was handed to the primate, who took it, as he
said, for a witness against its contrivers, and indignantly quitted the
assembly.[125] In an agony of remorse for the credulity which had led
him into such a trap he withdrew to Winchester and suspended himself
from all priestly functions till he had received absolution from the
Pope.[126]
[122] See note B at end of chapter.
[123] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp.
280–285. The answers to the Constitutions in Garnier (Hippeau),
pp. 84–89, seem to be partly Thomas’s and partly his own.
[124] “L’arcevesques respunt: Fei que dei Deu le bel,
Co n’ert, tant cum la vie me bate en cest vessel!”
Garnier (Hippeau), p. 37. Cf. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. ii.), p. 383, and Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 37.
[125] Garnier, as above. Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. i.), p. 23. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 383. Anon. I.
(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 37. Cf. Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.),
p. 311; Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 288; Anon. II.
(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 103, and _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.
i. pp. 167–169. Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol.
iii.), pp. 48, 49, says that Thomas did set his seal to the
constitutions; but his statement is at variance with those of
all other authorities; and he himself afterwards recites two
speeches made at Northampton, one by Thomas and one by Hilary
of Chichester, both distinctly affirming that none of the
bishops sealed. _Ib._ pp. 66, 67.
[126] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 38. Will. Cant. (as above), p. 24.
Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 312. E. Grim (_ibid._), p.
383. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 49. Herb. Bosh.
(_ibid._), pp. 289–292. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 37.
It was to the Pope that both parties looked for a settlement of their
dispute; but Alexander, ill acquainted both with the merits of the
case and with the characters of the disputants, and beset on all sides
with political difficulties, could only strive in vain to hold the
balance evenly between them. Meanwhile the political quarrel of king
and primate was embittered by an incident in which Henry’s personal
feelings were stirred. His brother William--the favourite young brother
whom he had once planned to establish as sovereign in Ireland--had set
his heart upon a marriage with the widowed countess of Warren; the
archbishop had forbidden the match on the ground of affinity, and his
prohibition had put an end to the scheme.[127] Baffled and indignant,
William returned to Normandy and poured the story of his grievance into
the sympathizing ears first of his mother and then, as it seems, of
the brotherhood at Bec.[128] On January 29, 1164--one day before the
dissolution of the council of Clarendon--he died at Rouen;[129] and
a writer who was himself at that time a monk at Bec not only implies
his own belief that the young man actually died of disappointment, but
declares that Henry shared that belief, and thenceforth looked upon
the primate by whom the disappointment had been caused as little less
than the murderer of his brother.[130] The king’s exasperation was at
any rate plain to all eyes; and as the summer drew on Thomas found
himself gradually deserted. His best friend, John of Salisbury, had
already been taken from his side, and was soon driven into exile by
the jealousy of the king;[131] another friend, John of Canterbury, had
been removed out of the country early in 1163 by the ingenious device
of making him bishop of Poitiers.[132] The old dispute concerning
the relations between Canterbury and York had broken out afresh with
intensified bitterness between Roger of Pont-l’Evêque and the former
comrade of whom he had long been jealous, and who had now once again
been promoted over his head; the king, hoping to turn it to account
for his own purposes, was intriguing at the Papal court in Roger’s
behalf, and one of his confidential agents there was Thomas’s own
archdeacon, Geoffrey Ridel.[133] The bishops as yet were passive;
in the York controversy Gilbert Foliot strongly supported his own
metropolitan;[134] but between him and Thomas there was already a
question, amicable indeed at present but ominous nevertheless, as to
whether or not the profession of obedience made to Theobald by the
bishop of Hereford should be repeated by the same man as bishop of
London to Theobald’s successor.[135]
[127] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.) p. 142.
Isabel de Warren was the widow of Stephen’s son William, who of
course was cousin in the third degree to William of Anjou.
[128] “Hic” [_i.e._ Thomas] “regis fratrem pertæsum semper
habebat,
Ne consul foret hic, obvius ille fuit:
Cum nata comitis comitem Warenna tulisset,
Nobilis hic præsul ne nocuisset ei.
Irâ permotus, nunquam rediturus, ab Anglis
Advenit is, matri nunciat ista piæ.
Hinc Beccum veniens fratrum se tradit amori.”
_Draco Norm._, l. ii. c. 8, vv. 441–447 (Howlett, _Will.
Newb._, vol. ii. p. 676).
[129] Rob. Torigni, a. 1164. _Draco Norm._, l. ii. c. 8, vv.
448–450 (as above). The date is from the first-named writer.
[130] _Draco Norm._, l. ii. c. 8, vv. 453–456 (as
above). Considering the abundance--one might almost say
superabundance--of unquestionably authentic information which
we already possess as to the origin and grounds of Henry’s
quarrel with Thomas, I cannot attach so much importance as
Mr. Howlett apparently does (_ib._ pref. pp. lxi–lxiii) to
this new contribution from Stephen of Rouen. Stephen’s work
is quasi-romantic in character and utterly unhistoric in
style; and his view of the whole Becket controversy is simply
ludicrous, for he ignores the clerical immunities and the
Constitutions of Clarendon altogether, and attributes the
quarrel wholly to two other causes--this affair about William,
and Thomas’s supposed peculations while chancellor (_ib._ l.
iii. c. 12, vv. 909–914, p. 741). That the domestic tragedy
of which he gives such a highly-coloured account had some
bearing upon the great political drama appears from the words
of Richard le Breton to Thomas at his murder seven years later,
“Hoc habeas pro amore domini mei Willelmi fratris regis” (Will.
Fitz-Steph., Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii. p. 142). But in
these words there is no mention either of William’s death or
of Henry’s feelings about it. Some allusion to either or both
may have been in the speaker’s mind; but what he actually
said implies nothing more than that he had been in William’s
service, and had therefore resented the thwarting of his lord’s
interests, and through them, it may be, of his own. Will.
Fitz-Steph., after explaining what William’s grievance was,
simply adds, “Unde Willelmus ... inconsolabiliter doluit; et
omnes sui archiepiscopo inimici facti sunt.” _Ibid._
[131] From a comparison of Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 46, with Ep. lv. (_ib._ vol. v. pp.
95–103), it appears that John was separated from Thomas before
the council of Clarendon. After some months of wandering he
found shelter at Reims, in the great abbey of S. Remigius of
which his old friend Peter of Celle was now abbot, and there he
chiefly dwelt during the next seven years.
[132] Will. Fitz-Steph., as above, says John was promoted for
the purpose of getting him out of the way. He was consecrated
by the Pope at the council of Tours; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol.
i. p. 311. It must be remembered that Henry had already had
experience of John’s zeal for clerical immunities.
[133] Epp. xiii., xxvii., xxxvi., xli.–xliii., l., li., liii.,
liv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp. 21, 22, 44–46, 59, 60,
67–69, 85, 87, 88, 91, 94); Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p.
24; E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 384; Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.
iv.), pp. 38, 39; Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 39, 40; _Thomas Saga_
(Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 179–181; Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i.
p. 181.
[134] Ep. xxviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp. 46, 47).
[135] Epp. xxxv., lxvii. (_ib._ pp. 56, 57, 130, 131).
Thomas himself fully expected to meet the fate of Anselm; throughout
the winter his friends had been endeavouring to secure him a refuge in
France;[136] and early in the summer of 1164, having been refused an
interview with the king,[137] he made two attempts to escape secretly
from Romney. The first time he was repelled by a contrary wind; the
second time the sailors put back ostensibly for the same reason, but
really because they had recognized their passenger and dreaded the
royal wrath;[138] and a servant who went on the following night to shut
the gates of the deserted palace at Canterbury found the primate, worn
out with fatigue and disappointment, sitting alone in the darkness
like a beggar upon his own door-step.[139] Despairing of escape,
he made another effort to see the king at Woodstock. Henry dreaded
nothing so much as the archbishop’s flight, for he felt that it would
probably be followed by a Papal interdict on his dominions,[140] and
would certainly give an immense advantage against him to Louis of
France, who was at that very moment threatening war in Auvergne.[141]
He therefore received Thomas courteously, though with somewhat less
than the usual honours,[142] and made no allusion to the past except
by a playful question “whether the archbishop did not think the realm
was wide enough to contain them both?” Thomas saw, however, that
the old cordiality was gone; his enemies saw it too, and, as his
biographer says, “they came about him like bees.”[143] Foremost among
them was John the king’s marshal, who had a suit in the archbishop’s
court concerning the manor of Pageham.[144] It was provided by one of
Henry’s new rules of legal procedure that if a suitor saw no chance of
obtaining justice in the court of his own lord he might, by taking an
oath to that effect and bringing two witnesses to do the same, transfer
the suit to a higher court.[145] John by this method removed his case
from the court of the archbishop to that of the king; and thither
Thomas was cited to answer his claim on the feast of the Exaltation
of the Cross. When that day came the primate was too ill to move; he
sent essoiners to excuse his absence in legal form, and also a written
protest against the removal of the suit, on the ground that it had been
obtained by perjury--John having taken the oath not upon the Gospel,
but upon an old song-book which he had surreptitiously brought into
court for the purpose.[146] Henry angrily refused to believe either
Thomas or his essoiners,[147] and immediately issued orders for a great
council to be held at Northampton.[148] It was customary to call the
archbishops and the greater barons by a special writ addressed to each
individually, while the lesser tenants-in-chief received a general
summons through the sheriffs of the different counties. Roger of York
was specially called in due form;[149] the metropolitan of all Britain,
who ought to have been invited first and most honourably of all,
merely received through the sheriff of Kent a peremptory citation to
be ready on the first day of the council with his defence against the
claim of John the marshal.[150]
[136] Epp. xxxv., xxxvi., lv. (_ib._ pp. 57, 58, 97).
[137] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._), vol. iii. p. 49.
[138] Cf. Will. Fitz-Steph. as above; Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._),
p. 293; Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 104; and Alan Tewkesb.
(_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 325, with E. Grim (_ibid._), pp. 389, 390;
Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 29; Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.),
p. 40; and Garnier (Hippeau), p. 49.
[139] Alan Tewkesb. as above.
[140] Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 29. E. Grim (_ib._
vol. ii.), p. 390. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 40. Garnier
(Hippeau), p. 50.
[141] Ep. lx. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v., p. 115).
[142] Ep. ccxxv. (_ib._ p. 530). Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.),
p. 294.
[143] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 294,
295.
[144] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 50.
[145] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 51. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 31. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 41. On
this proceeding see Glanville, _De Legg. et Conss. Angl._, l.
xii. c. 7.
[146] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 51–53. Will. Cant. (as above), p.
30. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 390. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._
vol. iii.), p. 50. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 41. Ep. ccxxv.
(_ib._ vol. v.), pp. 530, 531.
[147] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.
[148] _Ib._ p. 49. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 296. Anon. I.
(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 30. Ep. ccxxv. (_ib._ vol. v.), p. 531.
Garnier (Hippeau), p. 50.
[149] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 313, 314.
[150] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 51.
The council--an almost complete gathering of the tenants-in-chief, lay
and spiritual, throughout the realm[151]--was summoned for Tuesday
October 6.[152] The king however lingered hawking by the river-side
till late at night,[153] and it was not till next morning after Mass
that the archbishop could obtain an audience. He began by asking
leave to go and consult the Pope on his dispute with Roger of York
and divers other questions touching the interests of both Church and
state; Henry angrily bade him be silent and retire to prepare his
defence for his contempt of the royal summons in the matter of John
the marshal.[154] The trial took place next day. John himself did not
appear, being detained in the king’s service at the Michaelmas session
of the Exchequer in London;[155] the charge of failure of justice
was apparently withdrawn, but for the alleged contempt Thomas was
sentenced to a fine of five hundred pounds.[156] Indignant as he was
at the flagrant illegality of the trial, in which his own suffragans
had been compelled to sit in judgement on their primate, Thomas was yet
persuaded to submit, in the hope of avoiding further wrangling over
what seemed now to have become a mere question of money.[157] But there
were other questions to follow. Henry now demanded from the archbishop
a sum of three hundred pounds, representing the revenue due from the
honours of Eye and Berkhampstead for the time during which he had held
them since his resignation of the chancellorship.[158] Thomas remarked
that he had spent far more than that sum on the repair of the royal
palaces, and protested against the unfairness of making such a demand
without warning. Still, however, he disdained to resist for a matter
of filthy lucre, and found sureties for the required amount.[159] Next
morning Henry made a further demand for the repayment of a loan made to
Thomas in his chancellor days.[160] In those days the two friends had
virtually had but one purse as well as “one mind and one heart,” and
Thomas was deeply wounded by this evident proof that their friendship
was at an end. Once more he submitted; but this time it was no easy
matter to find sureties;[161] and then, late on the Friday evening,
there was reached the last and most overwhelming count in the long
indictment thus gradually unrolled before the eyes of the astonished
primate. He was called upon to render a complete statement of all the
revenues of vacant sees, baronies and honours of which he had had the
custody as chancellor--in short, of the whole accounts of the chancery
during his tenure of office.[162]
[151] Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._) p. 296. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.),
p. 390. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 41. R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 313. Only two bishops were absent: Nigel of Ely,
disabled by paralysis, and William of Norwich, who made an
excuse to avoid sharing in what he knew was to come. Gerv.
Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 185. From Alan Tewkesb. however
(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii. p. 331), it seems that Norwich
came after all--only, like Rochester (Will. Fitz-Steph., _ib._
vol. iii. p. 52), somewhat late.
[152] Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above), p. 50. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._
p. 296), says “hebdomadæ feria quinta, sexta ante B. Calixti
... diem”--a self-contradiction, for in 1164 October 9, the
sixth day before the feast of S. Calixtus, was not Thursday
but Friday. He makes, however, a similar confusion as to the
last day of the council (_ib._ pp. 301, 304, 326); and as this
was undoubtedly Tuesday October 13--not Wednesday 14, as he
seems to make it in p. 304--it is plain that his mistake lies
in placing the feast of S. Calixtus a day too early, and that
the day to which he really means to assign the opening of the
assembly is Thursday October 8. This really agrees with Will.
Fitz-Steph., for, as will be seen, the council did not formally
meet till a day after that for which it was summoned, and did
not get to business till a day later still. William gives the
date for which it had been summoned; Herbert, that of its
practical beginning. R. Diceto (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 313) has
substituted the closing day for that of opening; the author of
_Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson, vol. i. p. 241), has done the same,
with a further confusion as to the days of the week; while
Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 182) has a date which agrees
with nothing, and which must be altogether wrong.
[153] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.
[154] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 52. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. ii.), p. 391. Cf. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 42, and
Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 51.
[155] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 51.
[156] _Ibid._ Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 297. Will. Cant.
(_ib._ vol. i.), p. 30. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 391.
Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 42. Garnier (Hippeau), p. 52.
_Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 18. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 183. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 313. The
actual sentence was forfeiture of all his moveable goods _ad
misericordiam_--commuted according to custom; cf. Herb. Bosh.
and Gerv. Cant., as above, with Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above),
p. 62. Garnier makes the sum three hundred pounds; Will. Cant.,
fifty; E. Grim, the Anon. I. and R. Diceto, five hundred.
[157] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 52. E. Grim (as above), p. 391.
Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 43.
[158] This must be the meaning of Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol.
iii.), p. 53, compared with R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. pp.
313, 314.
[159] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.
[160] The demand is stated by Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._) as
“de quingentis marcis ex causâ commodati in exercitu Tolosæ,
et aliis quingentis marcis ex causâ fidejussionis regis pro eo
erga quendam Judæum ibidem.” This would make the total amount
£666: 3: 8. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 298, and the _Thomas
Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 189, make it five hundred pounds.
[161] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 298,
299.
[162] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 53. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 31. Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p.
312. E. Grim (_ibid._), p. 392. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol.
iii.), p. 54. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 299. Anon. I. (_ib._
vol. iv.), p. 43. Anon. II. (_ibid._), p. 104. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 314. The total sum due was assessed
in the end at thirty thousand pounds, according to Garnier
(p. 65), Will. Cant. (p. 38), E. Grim (p. 396) and Anon. I.
(p. 49). Herb. Bosh., however (as above), makes it thirty
thousand marks (_i.e._ twenty thousand pounds). The _Thomas
Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 191, says thirty thousand marks
“of burnt silver,” _i.e._ blanch; while Gilbert Foliot, when
reciting the story to the Pope’s legates in 1167, is reported
as stating it at forty-four thousand marks (£2933: 6: 8); Ep.
cccxxxix. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi. p. 271). Herb. Bosh.
(as above) places this demand on the Saturday morning, and the
whole history of the three days, Friday-Sunday, October 9–11,
is somewhat confused by the discordant notes of time given by
the various biographers. I have followed Will. Fitz-Steph., who
is the most self-consistent and apparently the most trustworthy.
At this crushing demand the archbishop’s courage gave way, and he
threw himself at the king’s feet in despair. All the bishops did
likewise, but in vain; Henry swore “by God’s Eyes” that he would
have the accounts in full. He granted, however, a respite till the
morrow,[163] and Thomas spent the next morning in consultation
with his suffragans.[164] Gilbert of London advised unconditional
surrender;[165] Henry of Winchester, who had already withstood
the king to his face the night before,[166] strongly opposed this
view,[167] and suggested that the matter should be compromised by an
offer of two thousand marks. This the king rejected.[168] After long
deliberation[169] it was decided--again at the suggestion of Bishop
Henry--that Thomas should refuse to entertain the king’s demands on
the ground of the release from all secular obligations granted to him
at his consecration. This answer was carried by the bishops in a body
to the king. He refused to accept it, declaring that the release had
been given without his authority; and all that the bishops could wring
from him was a further adjournment till the Monday morning.[170] In
the middle of Sunday night the highly-strung nervous organization of
Thomas broke down under the long cruel strain; the morning found him
lying in helpless agony, and with great difficulty he obtained from
the king another day’s delay.[171] Before it expired a warning reached
him from the court that if he appeared there he must expect nothing
short of imprisonment or death.[172] A like rumour spread through the
council, and at dawn the bishops in a body implored their primate to
give up the hopeless struggle and throw himself on the mercy of the
king. He refused to betray his Church by accepting a sentence which
he believed to be illegal as well as unjust, forbade the bishops to
take any further part in his trial, gave them notice of an appeal
to Rome if they should do so, and charged them on their canonical
obedience to excommunicate at once whatever laymen should dare to sit
in judgement upon him.[173] Against this last command the bishop of
London instantly appealed.[174] All then returned to the court, except
Henry of Winchester and Jocelyn of Salisbury, who lingered for a last
word of pleading or of sympathy.[175] When they too were gone, Thomas
went to the chapel of the monastery in which he was lodging--a small
Benedictine house dedicated to S. Andrew, just outside the walls of
Northampton--and with the utmost solemnity celebrated the mass of S.
Stephen with its significant introit: “Princes have sat and spoken
against me.” The mass ended, he mounted his horse, and escorted no
longer by a brilliant train of clerks and knights, but by a crowd of
poor folk full of sympathy and admiration, he rode straight to the
castle where the council awaited him.[176]
[163] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 53, 54.
[164] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 300.
[165] Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 326, 327.
[166] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 54.
[167] Alan Tewkesb. (as above), p. 327.
[168] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 54.
[169] The speeches of the bishops--interesting for studies of
character--are given at length by Alan Tewkesb. (as above), pp.
327, 328. Cf. the account in _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i.
pp. 193–199.
[170] Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. i.), p. 31. E.
Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 392. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.),
p. 300. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 43. Anon. II. (_ibid._),
pp. 104, 105. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 328, 329,
has a slightly different version; in this, and also in _Thomas
Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 199–201, Gilbert Foliot wins the
respite by a daring misrepresentation of Thomas’s answer to the
king. I have followed Herbert’s reckoning of the days here, as
it fits in with that of Will. Fitz-Steph., who seems the best
guide in this matter.
[171] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 55, 56. Will. Cant. (as above),
p. 32. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.) pp. 329, 330. E. Grim
(_ibid._), pp. 392, 393. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.),
p. 56. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), pp. 300, 301. Anon. I. (_ib._
vol. iv.), p. 44. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 203. Here again
I follow Will. Fitz-Steph. and Herbert as to the day.
[172] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 56. Will. Cant. as above. E. Grim
(_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 393. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 44.
_Thomas Saga_ as above.
[173] Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above), p. 62. Herb. Bosh.
(_ibid._), pp. 301–303. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), pp. 205–207.
[174] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 303. _Thomas Saga_ (as above),
p. 207. Some of the other biographers place this scene later
in the day, but we can hardly do otherwise than follow the two
eye-witnesses, William and Herbert.
[175] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 303.
Jocelyn’s after-conduct shewed that his sympathy with the
primate was not very deep.
[176] Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 32, 34.
Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 330. E. Grim (_ibid._), p.
393. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 56, 57. Herb.
Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 304. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 45.
Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 56–60. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.
i. pp. 207–209.
At the gate he took his cross from the attendant who usually bore it,
and went forward alone to the hall where the bishops and barons were
assembled.[177] They fell back in amazement at the apparition of the
tall solitary figure, robed in full pontificals, and carrying the
crucifix like an uplifted banner prepared at once for defence and for
defiance; friends and opponents were almost equally shocked, and it
was not till he had passed through their midst and seated himself in a
corner of the hall that the bishops recovered sufficiently to gather
round him and intreat that he would give up his unbecoming burthen.
Thomas refused; “he would not lay down his standard, he would not part
with his shield.” “A fool you ever were, a fool I see you are still and
will be to the end,” burst out Gilbert Foliot at last, as after a long
argument he turned impatiently away.[178] The others followed him, and
the primate was left with only two companions, William Fitz-Stephen
and his own especial friend, Herbert of Bosham.[179] The king had
retired to an inner chamber and was there deliberating with his most
intimate counsellors[180] when the story of the primate’s entrance
reached his ears. He took it as an unpardonable insult, and caused
Thomas to be proclaimed a traitor. Warnings and threats ran confusedly
through the hall. The archbishop bent over the disciple sitting at
his feet:--“For thee I fear--yet fear not thou; even now mayest thou
share my crown.” The ardent encouragement with which Herbert answered
him[181] provoked one of the king’s marshals to interfere and forbid
that any one should speak to the “traitor.” William Fitz-Stephen, who
had been vainly striving to put in a gentle word, caught his primate’s
eyes and pointed to the crucifix, intrusting to its silent eloquence
the lesson of patience and prayer which his lips were forbidden to
utter. When he and Thomas, after long separation, met again in the land
of exile, that speechless admonition seems to have been the first thing
which recurred to the minds of both.[182]
[177] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 60. Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 57. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 304.
Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 330. _Thomas Saga_ (as
above), p. 209.
[178] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 60, 61. Will. Cant. (as above), p.
34. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 330. E. Grim (_ibid._),
p. 394. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 57. Herb. Bosh.
(_ibid._), pp. 305, 306. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 46, 47.
_Thomas Saga_ (as above), pp. 211–213.
[179] Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. i.), p. 34. Herb.
Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 307. They only mention Herbert;
William’s presence appears in the sequel.
[180] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 61. Will. Cant. (as above), p.
35. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 394. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol.
iii.), p. 305. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 47.
[181] Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 306–308.
[182] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 59.
In the chamber overhead, meanwhile, Henry had summoned the bishops
to a conference.[183] On receiving from them an account of their
morning’s interview with Thomas, he sent down to the latter his
ultimatum, requiring him to withdraw his appeal to Rome and his
commands to the bishops as contrary to the customs which he had sworn
to observe, and to submit to the judgement of the king’s court on
the chancery accounts. Seated, with eyes fixed on the cross, Thomas
quietly but firmly refused. His refusal was reported to the king,
who grew fiery-red with rage, caught eagerly at the barons’ proposal
that the archbishop should be judged for contempt of his sovereign’s
jurisdiction in appealing from it to another tribunal, and called
upon the bishops to join in his condemnation.[184] York, London
and Chichester proposed that they should cite him before the Pope
instead, on the grounds of perjury at Clarendon and unjust demands on
their obedience.[185] To this Henry consented; the appeal was uttered
by Hilary of Chichester in the name of all, and in most insulting
terms;[186] and the bishops sat down opposite their primate to await
the sentence of the lay barons.[187]
[183] _Ib._ p. 57. Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 35. Alan
Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 331. Garnier (Hippeau), p. 62.
[184] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 65, 66. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 36–38. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol.
iii.), pp. 62–65. Cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp.
213–217.
[185] Will. Cant. (as above), p. 37. In the versions of E.
Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 396, Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.),
p. 308, and the _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 217, they bluntly
bargain to be let off from actually sitting in judgement on
their primate in consideration of a promise to stand by the
king against him for ever after.
[186] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp.
65, 66. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 331, 332. According
to Alan, Thomas answered but one word--“I hear”; according to
William, he condescended to make a long speech. Cf. Anon. I.
(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 49.
[187] Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 332.
What that sentence was no one outside the royal council-chamber ever
really knew. It was one thing to determine it there and another to
deliver it to its victim, sitting alone and unmoved with the sign of
victory in his hand. With the utmost reluctance and hesitation the old
justiciar, Earl Robert of Leicester, came to perform his odious task.
At the word “judgement” Thomas started up, with uplifted crucifix and
flashing eyes, forbade the speaker to proceed, and solemnly appealed to
the protection of the court of Rome. The justiciar and his companions
retired in silence.[188] “I too will go, for the hour is past,” said
Thomas.[189] Cross in hand he strode past the speechless group of
bishops into the outer hall; the courtiers followed him with a torrent
of insults, which were taken up by the squires and serving-men outside;
as he stumbled against a pile of faggots set ready for the fire, Ralf
de Broc rushed upon him with a shout of “Traitor! traitor!”[190] The
king’s half-brother, Count Hameline, echoed the cry;[191] but he shrank
back at the primate’s retort--“Were I a knight instead of a priest,
this hand should prove thee a liar!”[192] Amid a storm of abuse Thomas
made his way into the court-yard and sprang upon his horse, taking up
his faithful Herbert behind him.[193] The outer gate was locked, but a
squire of the archbishop managed to find the keys.[194] Whether there
was any real intention of stopping his egress it seems impossible
to determine; the king and his counsellors were apparently too much
puzzled to do anything but let matters take their course; Henry indeed
sent down a herald to quell the disturbance and forbid all violence to
the primate;[195] but the precaution came too late. Once outside the
gates, Thomas had no need of such protection. From the mob of hooting
enemies within he passed into the midst of a crowd of poor folk who
pressed upon him with every demonstration of rapturous affection; in
every street as he rode along the people came out to throw themselves
at his feet and beg his blessing.
[188] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 67. Will. Cant. (as above), pp.
38, 39. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 332, 333. E. Grim
(_ibid._), pp. 397, 398. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.),
pp. 67, 68. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), pp. 309, 310. Anon. I.
(_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 50, 51. Cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson),
vol. i. p. 221, where the altercation is longer, but comes to
the same end.
[189] Anon. I. (as above), p. 51.
[190] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 68. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 39. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 398.
Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 51, 52. Cf. Will. Fitz-Steph.
(_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 68.
[191] Garnier and Will. Cant. as above. Anon. I. (as above), p.
52.
[192] Anon. I. as above. Cf. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p.
310. There is a different version in Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol.
i.), pp. 39, 40.
[193] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above. Of his own escape William
says nothing; but we know from a passage later in the same page
that he soon rejoined his primate.
[194] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 69. Cf. Will. Cant. (as above), p.
40; Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 333; Anon. I. (_ib._
vol. iv.), p. 52; and _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 222.
[195] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 70. Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above),
p. 69. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 399.
It was with these poor folk that he supped that night, for his own
household, all save a chosen few, now hastened to take leave of
him.[196] Through the bishops of Rochester, Hereford and Worcester he
requested of the king a safe-conduct for his journey to Canterbury;
the king declined to answer till the morrow.[197] The primate’s
suspicions were aroused. He caused his bed to be laid in the church, as
if intending to spend the night in prayer.[198] At cock-crow the monks
came and sang their matins in an under-tone for fear of disturbing
their weary guest;[199] but his chamberlain was watching over an empty
couch. At dead of night Thomas had made his escape with two canons of
Sempringham and a faithful squire of his own, named Roger of Brai. A
violent storm of rain helped to cover their flight,[200] and it was not
till the middle of the next day that king and council discovered that
the primate was gone.
[196] Alan Tewkesb. (as above), p. 333. E. Grim (_ibid._), p.
399. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 310. Anon. I. (_ib._
vol. iv.), p. 52. Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 40. Garnier,
as above.
[197] Alan Tewkesb. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), p. 334.
Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 69. Herb. Bosh.
(_ibid._), p. 312.
[198] Alan Tewkesb. and Will. Fitz-Steph. as above. Will. Cant.
(_ib._ vol. i.), p. 40. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 53.
Garnier (Hippeau), p. 70. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p.
229.
[199] Garnier, as above.
[200] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 71. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. ii.), p. 399. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 53, 54. Cf.
Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 40, Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._
vol. iii.), p. 69, and Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._) p. 312.
“God’s blessing go with him!” murmured with a sigh of relief the
aged Bishop Henry of Winchester. “We have not done with him yet!”
cried the king. He at once issued orders that all the ports should
be watched to prevent Thomas from leaving the country,[201] and that
the temporalities of the metropolitan see should be left untouched
pending an appeal to the Pope[202] which he despatched the archbishop
of York and the bishops of London, Worcester, Exeter and Chichester
to prosecute without delay.[203] They sailed from Dover on All Souls
day;[204] that very night Thomas, after three weeks of adventurous
wanderings, guarded with the most devoted vigilance by the brethren
of Sempringham, embarked in a little boat from Sandwich; next day he
landed in Flanders;[205] and after another fortnight’s hiding he
made his way safe to Soissons, where the king of France, disregarding
an embassy sent by Henry to prevent him, welcomed him with open
arms. He hurried on to Sens, where the Pope was now dwelling; the
appellant bishops had preceded him, but Alexander was deaf to their
arguments.[206] Thomas laid at the Pope’s feet his copy of the
Constitutions of Clarendon; they were read, discussed and solemnly
condemned in full consistory.[207] The exiled primate withdrew to a
shelter which his friend Bishop John of Poitiers had secured for him in
the Cistercian abbey of Pontigny in Burgundy.[208] On Christmas-eve,
at Marlborough, Henry’s envoys reported to him the failure of their
mission. On S. Stephen’s day Henry confiscated the whole possessions of
the metropolitan see, of the primate himself and of all his clerks, and
ordered all his kindred and dependents, clerical or lay, to be banished
from the realm.[209]
[201] Anon. I. (as above), p. 55.
[202] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 70. Herb. Bosh.
(_ibid._), p. 322.
[203] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 79. Alan Tewkesb. (as above), p.
336. E. Grim (_ibid._), p. 402. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol.
iii.), p. 70. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 323. Anon. I. (_ib._
vol. iv.), pp. 60, 61. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p.
261.
[204] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.
[205] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 71–74. E. Grim (as above), pp.
399, 400. Alan Tewkesb. (_ibid._), p. 335. Will. Fitz-Steph.
(_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 70. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), pp. 323–325.
Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 54, 55. _Thomas Saga_
(Magnusson), vol. i. p. 245. Here again there is a confusion
about the date.
[206] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 74–81. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 42–46. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.),
pp. 335–341. E. Grim (_ibid._), pp. 400–403. Will. Fitz-Steph.
(_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 70–74. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), pp.
325–340. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 57–61. Cf. _Thomas
Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 265–289.
[207] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 82–84. Will. Cant. (as above),
p. 46. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 341, 342. E. Grim
(_ibid._), pp. 403, 404. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp.
340–342. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 61–64. The formal
record of these proceedings is the edition of the Constitutions
included among the collected letters of S. Thomas--Ep. xlv.
(_ib._ vol. v. pp. 71–79), in which there is appended to each
article the Pope’s verdict--“Hoc toleravit” or “Hoc damnavit.”
The tolerated articles are 2, 6, 11, 13, 14 and 16. Alan of
Tewkesbury, who first collected the letters of S. Thomas, was
for some years a canon of Benevento, and probably got this
annotated copy of the Constitutions from Lombard, who had been
in Thomas’s suite as one of his _eruditi_ during this visit to
Sens, and who was archbishop of Benevento at the time of Alan’s
residence there.
[208] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 90. Will. Cant. (as above), p. 46.
Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 313. Alan Tewkesb. (_ibid._),
p. 345. E. Grim (_ibid._), p. 404. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._
vol. iii.), p. 76. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 357. Anon. I.
(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 64. Anon. II. (_ibid._), p. 109. Cf. Ep.
lx. (_ib._ vol. v.), p. 114.
[209] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 91. Will. Cant. (as above), pp.
46, 47. Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 313, 314. E. Grim
(_ibid._), p. 404. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p.
75. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 359. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.),
p. 65. The dates are from Will. Fitz-Steph. The _Thomas Saga_
(Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 347–349, puts this banishment too late
in the story.
NOTE A.
THE COUNCIL OF WOODSTOCK.
The usual view of the council of Woodstock--a view founded on
contemporary accounts and endorsed by Bishop Stubbs (_Constit. Hist._,
vol. i. p. 462)--has been disputed on the authority of the Icelandic
_Thomas Saga_. This Saga represents the subject of the quarrel as
being, not a general levy of so much per hide throughout the country,
but a special tax upon the Church lands--nothing else, in fact, than
the “ungeld” which William Rufus had imposed on them to raise the money
paid to Duke Robert for his temporary cession of Normandy, and which
had been continued ever since. “We have read afore how King William
levied a due on all churches in the land, in order to repay him all
the costs at which his brother Robert did depart from the land. This
money the king said he had disbursed for the freedom of Jewry, and
therefore it behoved well the learned folk to repay it to their king.
But because the king’s court hath a mouth that holdeth fast, this due
continued from year to year. At first it was called Jerusalem tax, but
afterwards Warfare-due, for the king to keep up an army for the common
peace of the country. But at this time matters have gone so far, that
this due was exacted, as a king’s tax, from every house” [“monastery,”
editor’s note], “small and great, throughout England, under no other
name than an ancient tax payable into the royal treasury without any
reason being shown for it.” _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 139.
Mr. Magnusson (_ib._ p. 138, note 7) thinks that this account “must
be taken as representing the true history of” the tax in question. In
his Preface (_ib._ vol. ii. pp. cvii–cviii) he argues that if the tax
had been one upon the tax-payers in general, “evidently the primate
had no right to interfere in such a matter, except so far as church
lands were concerned;” and he concludes that the version in the Saga
“gives a natural clue to the archbishop’s protest, which thus becomes
a protest only on behalf of the Church.” This argument hardly takes
sufficient account of the English primate’s constitutional position,
which furnishes a perfectly “natural clue” to his protest, supposing
that protest to have been made on behalf of the whole nation and not
only of the Church:--or rather, to speak more accurately, in behalf of
the Church in the true sense of that word--the sense which Theobald’s
disciples were always striving to give to it--as representing the
whole nation viewed in a spiritual aspect, and not only the clerical
order. Mr. Magnusson adds: “We have no doubt that the source of
the Icelandic Saga here is Robert of Cricklade, or ... Benedict of
Peterborough, who has had a better information on the subject than
the other authorities, which, it would seem, all have Garnier for a
primary source; but he, a foreigner, might very well be supposed to
have formed an erroneous view on a subject the history of which he did
not know, except by hearsay evidence” (_ib._ pp. cviii, cix). It might
be answered that the “hearsay evidence” on which Garnier founded his
view must have been evidence which he heard in England, where he is
known to have carefully collected the materials for his work (Garnier,
ed. Hippeau, pp. 6, 205, 206), and that his view is entitled to just as
much consideration as that of the Icelander, founded upon the evidence
of Robert or Benedict;--that of the three writers who follow Garnier,
two, William of Canterbury and Edward Grim, were English (William
of Canterbury may have been Irish by birth, but he was English by
education and domicile) and might therefore have been able to check any
errors caused by the different nationality of their guide:--and that
even if the case resolved itself into a question between the authority
of Garnier and that of Benedict or Robert (which can hardly be
admitted), they would be of at least equal weight, and the balance of
intrinsic probability would be on Garnier’s side. For his story points
directly to the Danegeld; and we have the indisputable witness of the
Pipe Rolls that the Danegeld, in some shape or other, was levied at
intervals throughout the Norman reigns and until the year 1163, when it
vanished for ever. On the other hand, the Red King’s “ungeld” upon the
Church lands, like all his other “ungelds,” certainly died with him;
and nothing can well be more unlikely than that Henry II. in the very
midst of his early reforms should have reintroduced, entirely without
excuse and without necessity, one of the most obnoxious and unjust of
the measures which had been expressly abolished in “the time of his
grandfather King Henry.”
NOTE B.
THE COUNCIL OF CLARENDON.
There is some difficulty as to both the date and the duration of this
council. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 176) gives the date of meeting
as January 13; R. Diceto (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 312) as January 25; while
the official copy of the Constitutions (_Summa Causæ_, Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. iv. p. 208; Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 140) gives
the closing day as January 30 (“_quartâ die ante Purificationem S.
Mariæ_”). As to the duration of the council, we learn from Herb. Bosh.
(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii. p. 279) and Gerv. Cant. (as above, p.
178) that there was an adjournment of at least one night; while Gilbert
Foliot (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. Ep. ccxxv. pp. 527–529) says
“Clarendonæ ... continuato triduo id solum actum est ut observandarum
regni consuetudinum et dignitatum a nobis fieret absoluta promissio;”
and that “die vero tertio,” after a most extraordinary scene, Thomas
“antiquas regni consuetudines antiquorum memoriâ in commune propositas
et scripto commendatas, de cætero domino nostro regi se fideliter
observaturum in verbo veritatis absolute promittens, in vi nobis
injunxit obedientiæ sponsione simili nos obligare.” This looks at first
glance as if meant to describe the closing scene of the council, in
which case its whole duration would be limited to three days. But it
seems possible to find another interpretation which would enable us to
reconcile all the discordant dates, by understanding Gilbert’s words
as referring to the verbal discussion at the opening of the council,
before the written Constitutions were produced at all. Gilbert does
indeed expressly mention “customs committed to writing”; but this may
very easily be a piece of confusion either accidental or intentional.
On this supposition the chronology may be arranged as follows:--The
council meets on January 13 (Gerv. Cant.). That day and the two
following are spent in talking over the primate; towards evening of the
third--which will be January 15--he yields, and the bishops with him
(Gilb. Foliot). Then they begin to discuss what they have promised;
the debate warms and lengthens; Thomas, worn out with his three days’
struggle and seeing the rocks ahead, begs for a respite till the morrow
(Herb. Bosh.). On that morrow--_i.e._ January 16--Henry issues his
commission to the “elders,” and the council remains in abeyance till
they are ready with their report. None of our authorities tell us how
long an interval elapsed between the issue of the royal commission and
its report. Herbert, indeed, seems to imply that the discussion on
the constitutions began one night and the written report was brought
up next day. But this is only possible on the supposition that it had
been prepared secretly beforehand, of which none of the other writers
shew any suspicion. If the thing was not prepared beforehand, it must
have taken some time to do; and even if it was, the king and the
commissioners would surely, for the sake of appearances, make a few
days’ delay to give a shew of reality to their investigations. Nine
days is not too much to allow for preparation of the report. On January
25, then, it is brought up, and the real business of the council begins
in earnest on the day named by R. Diceto. And if Thomas fought over
every one of the sixteen constitutions in the way of which Herbert
gives us a specimen, six days more may very well have been spent in the
discussion, which would thus end, as the _Summa Causæ_ says, on January
30.
CHAPTER II.
HENRY AND ROME.
1164–1172.
With the archbishop’s flight into France the struggle between him
and the king entered upon a new phase. Its intrinsic importance was
almost entirely lost, and it became simply an element in the wider
questions of general European politics. In England Thomas’s departure
left Henry sole master of the field; the Constitutions of Clarendon
were put in force without delay and without difficulty; a year later
they were followed up by an Assize, significantly issued from the same
place, which laid the foundations of the whole later English system of
procedure in criminal causes; and thenceforth the work of legal and
judicial reform went on almost without a break, totally unaffected
by the strife which continued to rage between king and primate for
the next five years. The social condition of the country was only
indirectly affected by it. The causes which had ostensibly given rise
to it--the principle involved in the acceptance or rejection of the
Constitutions--did not appeal strongly to the national mind, and had
already become obscured and subordinated to the personal aspect which
the quarrel had assumed at Northampton. As in the case of Anselm,
it was on this personal aspect alone that popular feeling really
fastened; and in this point of view the advantage was strongly on the
archbishop’s side. Thomas, whose natural gifts had already made him a
sort of popular idol, was set by the high-handed proceedings of the
council in the light of a victim of regal tyranny; and the sweeping and
cruel proscriptions inflicted upon all who were in the remotest way
connected with him tended still further to excite popular sympathy for
his wrongs and turn it away from his persecutor. But the sympathy was
for the individual, not for the cause. The principle of the clerical
immunities had no hold upon the minds of the people or even of the
clergy at large. Even among the archbishop’s own personal friends,
almost the only men who clave to it with anything like the same ardour
as himself were his two old comrades of the _Curia Theobaldi_, Bishop
John of Poitiers and John of Salisbury; and even the devotion of
John of Salisbury, which is one of the brightest jewels in Becket’s
crown, was really the devotion of friend to friend, of Churchman to
primate, of a generous, chivalrous soul to what seemed the oppressed
and down-trodden side, rather than the devotion of a partizan to party
principle. Herbert of Bosham, the primate’s shadow and second self,
who clave to his side through good report and evil report and looked
upon him as a hero and a martyr from first to last, was nevertheless
the author of the famous verdict which all the searching criticism of
later times has never yet been able to amend: “Both parties had a zeal
for God; which zeal was according to knowledge, His judgement alone can
determine.”[210]
[210] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.) p. 273. The
whole passage from “O rex et o pontifex” to “judicium” (pp.
272, 273) should be compared with the admirable commentary of
Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 16 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 140–141).
Cool, dispassionate thinkers like Gilbert Foliot, on the other hand,
while inclining towards the cause which Thomas had at heart, recoiled
from his mode of upholding it as little less than suicidal. In
Gilbert’s view it was Thomas who had betrayed those “rights of his
order” which he proclaimed so loudly, by forsaking the attitude of
passive resistance which the bishops had adopted at Westminster and
in which they were practically unassailable, and staking everything
upon the king’s good faith, without security, in the meeting at Oxford
and the council at Clarendon:--it was Thomas who by his subsequent
conduct--his rash attempts at flight, his rapid changes of front at
Northampton in first admitting and then denying the royal jurisdiction,
his final insult to the king in coming to the council cross in hand,
and his undignified departure from the realm--had frustrated the
efforts whereby wiser and cooler heads might have brought the king to
a better mind and induced him to withdraw the Constitutions:--and it
was not Thomas, but his suffragans, left to bear the brunt of a storm
which they had neither deserved nor provoked, who were really in a
fair way to become confessors and martyrs for a Church brought into
jeopardy by its own primate.[211] Gilbert in fact saw clearly that
the importance of the point at issue between king and archbishop was
as nothing compared to the disastrous consequences which must result
from their protracted strife. It threatened nothing less than ruin to
the intellectual and religious revival which Theobald had fostered so
carefully and so successfully. The best hopes of the movement were
bound up with the alliance between Church and state which had been
cemented at Henry’s accession; that alliance was now destroyed; instead
of the Church’s most valuable fellow-worker, the king had been made her
bitter foe; and the work of revival was left to be carried on--if it
could be carried on at all--in the teeth of the royal opposition and
without a leader, while the man who should have directed it was only
a perpetual stumbling-block in the path of those who had to supply
as best they could the place left deserted by his flight. It was
upon Gilbert of London that this burthen chiefly fell; and it is in
Gilbert’s position that we may find a key to the subsequent direction
of the controversy, as far as England was concerned.
[211] Ep. ccxxv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), pp. 526 _et
seq._
For full twenty years before Becket’s rise to the primacy Gilbert
Foliot had been one of the most respected members of the reforming
party in the English Church. While Thomas was a worldly young subdeacon
in the household of Archbishop Theobald, while as chancellor he was
outshining the king in luxurious splendour or riding in coat of
mail at the head of his troops, Gilbert was setting the pattern of
ecclesiastical discipline and furnishing the steadiest and most
valued assistance to the primate’s schemes of reform. Trained no
less than Henry of Winchester in the old Cluniac traditions of
ecclesiastical authority, his credit had never been shaken by rashness
and inconsistency such as had marred Henry’s labours; and it would
have been neither strange nor blameworthy if he had cherished a hope
of carrying on Theobald’s work as Theobald’s successor. Gilbert,
however, solemnly denied that he had ever sought after or desired
the primacy;[212] and his conduct does not seem to furnish any just
ground for assuming the falsehood of the denial. His opposition to
the election of Thomas was thoroughly consistent with his position
and known views; equally so was the support and co-operation which
Thomas, as soon as he was fairly launched into his new course of
action, anxiously sought to obtain from him, and which he for a while
steadily gave. He had begun to find such co-operation difficult even
before the question of the clerical immunities arose at the council of
Westminster. On that question, in itself, the primate and the bishop
of London were at one; but they differed completely in their way of
treating it. To the impulsive, short-sighted, downright Thomas it was
the one, sole, all-absorbing question of life and death; to the calm,
far-seeing, cautious Gilbert it was a provoking hindrance--raised
up partly by the primate’s own bad management--to the well-being of
interests far too serious and too wide-reaching to be imperilled for a
mere point of administrative detail. He took up his position definitely
at the council of Northampton. The customs being once accepted, he held
it the true Churchman’s duty to obey them, to make the best and not
the worst of them, while desiring and labouring for their abrogation,
but only by pacific means. A temporary submission was the least of two
evils. It was infinitely safer to bend to the storm and trust to the
influences of time and conciliation for turning the mind of the king,
than to run the risk of driving him into irreconcileable hostility
to the Church. For hostility to the Church meant something far worse
now than in the days when William Rufus and Henry I. had set up their
regal authority against primate and Pope. It meant a widening of the
schism which was rending western Christendom in twain; it meant the
accession of the whole Angevin dominions to the party of the Emperor
and the anti-Pope, and the severance of all the ties between the
English Church and her continental sisters which Theobald, Eugene and
Adrian had laboured so diligently to secure.
[212] Ep. ccxxv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), pp. 522, 523.
The dread of this catastrophe explains also the attitude of the
Pope. In the long dreary tale of negotiation and intrigue which has
to be traced through the maze of the Becket correspondence, the
most inconsistent and self-contradictory, the most undecided and
undignified, the most unsatisfactory and disappointing part of all
is that played by Alexander III. It is however only fair to remember
that, in this and in all like cases, the Pope’s part was also the
most difficult one. No crown in Christendom pressed so sorely on its
wearer’s brow as the triple tiara:--“It may well look bright,” Adrian
IV. had been wont to say to his friend John of Salisbury, “for it is
a crown of fire!” Adrian indeed, though his short reign was one of
marked vigour and prosperity, declared that if he had had any idea of
the thorns with which S. Peter’s chair was filled, he would have begged
his bread in England or remained buried in the cloisters of S. Rufus
to the end of his days sooner than thrust himself into such a thicket
of troubles.[213] For it was not only “the care of all the churches”
that rested upon a medieval Pope, but the care of all the states as
well. The court of Rome had grown into the final court of appeal for
all Christendom; the Pope was expected to be the universal referee,
arbitrator and peacemaker of Europe, to hold the balance between
contending parties, to penetrate and disentangle the intricacies of
political situations which baffled the skill of the most experienced
diplomatists, to exercise a sort of equitable jurisdiction on a vast
scale over the whole range of political as well as social life.
Earlier and later pontiffs may have voluntarily brought this burthen
upon themselves; most of the Popes of the twelfth century, at any
rate, seem to have groaned under it as a weight too heavy for any
human strength to bear. Unprincipled as their policy often seemed,
there was not a little justice in the view of John of Salisbury, that
a position so exceptional could not be brought within the scope of
ordinary rules of conduct, and that only those who had themselves felt
its difficulties could be really competent to judge it at all.[214]
Adrian’s energetic spirit was worn out by it in four years;[215] yet
his position was easy compared to that of Alexander III. Alexander
was a pontiff without a throne, the head of a Church in captivity and
exile; dependent on the support of the most selfish and untrustworthy
of living sovereigns; with Italy and Germany arrayed against him under
the rule of a schismatic Emperor, and with the fidelity of the Angevin
house hanging upon a thread which the least strain, the lightest touch,
might break at any moment. Moreover Alexander was no Englishman like
his predecessor. He had no inborn comprehension and no experience of
the ways and tempers of the north; he had no bosom-friend, no John of
Salisbury, to stand as interpreter between him and the Angevin king or
the English primate; he understood neither of them, and he was almost
equally afraid of both. His chief anxiety was to have as little as
possible to do with them and their quarrel, and the fugitive archbishop
was to him anything but a welcome guest.
[213] Joh. Salisb. _Polycrat._, l. viii. c. 23 (Giles, vol. iv.
p. 367).
[214] Joh. Salisb., _Polycrat._, l. viii. c. 23 (Giles, vol.
iv. p. 363).
[215] _Ibid._ (pp. 366, 367). “Licet nihil aliud lædat, necesse
est ut citissime vel solo labore deficiat [sc. Papa].... Dum
superest, ipsum interroga.” This was written early in 1159, and
in August Adrian died.
It was of course impossible for the Pope to withhold his sympathy and
his support from a prelate who came to him as a confessor for the
privileges of the Church. But it was equally impossible for him to run
the risk of driving Henry and his dominions into schism by espousing
Thomas’s cause as decisively as Thomas himself desired. Placed thus in
what Adrian had once declared to be the ordinary position of a Roman
pontiff--“between hammer and anvil”--Alexander drifted into a policy
of shifts and contradictions, tergiversations and double-dealings,
which irritated Henry and which Thomas simply failed to comprehend. If
Gilbert Foliot and Arnulf of Lisieux could have succeeded in their
efforts to induce the contending parties to accept a compromise, the
Pope would have been only too glad to sanction it. But it was useless
to talk of compromise where Thomas Becket was concerned. To all the
remoter consequences, the ultimate bearings of the quarrel, he was
totally blind. For him there was but one question in the world, the
one directly before him; it could have but two sides, right and
wrong, between which all adjustment was impossible, and with which
considerations of present expediency or future consequences had nothing
to do. All Gilbert’s arguments for surrender, his solemn warnings of
the peril of schism, his pleadings that it was better for the English
Church to become for a while a sickly member of the ecclesiastical
body than to be cut off from it altogether,[216] Thomas looked upon,
at best, as proposals for doing evil that good might come. After his
humiliating experience at Clarendon he seems to have felt that he
was no match for Henry’s subtlety; his flight was evidently caused
chiefly by dread of being again entrapped into a betrayal of what
he held to be his duty; and once, in an agony of self-reproach and
self-distrust, he laid his archiepiscopal ring at the Pope’s feet
and prayed to be released from the burthen of an office for which he
felt himself unworthy and unfit.[217] Strong as was the temptation to
pacify Henry thus easily, Alexander felt that the Church could not
allow such a sacrifice of her champion; and Thomas never again swerved
from his determination to be satisfied with nothing short of complete
surrender on the part of the king. For this one object he laboured,
pleaded, argued, censured, during the next six years without ceasing;
his own suffragans, the monastic orders, Pope, cardinals, the Empress
Matilda, the king of France, none of them had a moment’s peace from his
passionate endeavours to press them into a service which he seemed
to expect them all to regard as a matter of life and death not merely
for England but for all Christendom. Doubtless it was a sad waste of
energy and a sad perversion of enthusiasm; yet the enthusiasm contrasts
pathetically, almost heroically, with the spirit in which it was met.
There was something noble, if there was also something exasperatingly
unpractical, in a man who, absorbed in his devotion to one mistaken
idea, never even saw that he and his cause were becoming the pretexts
and the tools of half the political intrigues of Europe, and whom the
experience of a lifetime failed to teach that all the world was not as
single-hearted as himself. Intellectually, a mind thus constituted must
needs provoke and deserve the impatient scorn of a cool clear brain
such as Gilbert Foliot’s; but its very intellectual weakness was the
source of its true strength. It is this dogged adherence to one fixed
idea, this simplicity of aim, which appeals to the average crowd of
mankind far more strongly than the larger and more statesmanlike temper
of men like Foliot, or like Henry himself. Whether or no the cause be
worthy--whether or no the zeal be according to knowledge--it is the
zealot, not the philosopher, who becomes the popular hero and martyr.
[216] Ep. cviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), p. 207.
[217] Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 46; Alan Tewkesb.
(_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 342, 343; E. Grim (_ibid._), p. 403;
Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 76; _Thomas Saga_
(Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 305–313. Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 16
(Howlett, vol. i. p. 140), gives this scene as having occurred,
“ut dicitur,” at the council of Tours.
From the moment of Thomas’s arrival in France, then, little though he
perceived it himself, the direct question at issue between him and the
king became in every point of view save his own entirely subordinate
to the indirect consequences of their quarrel; the ecclesiastical
interest became secondary to the political, which involved matters of
grave importance to all Europe. The one person to whom the archbishop’s
flight was most thoroughly welcome was Louis of France. Louis and
Henry were nominally at peace; but to Louis their alliance was simply
a shield behind which he could plan without danger his schemes for
undermining Henry’s power on the continent, and no better tool for this
purpose could possibly have fallen into his hands than the fugitive
archbishop of Canterbury. Thomas had indeed just enough perception
of the state of affairs between the two kings--of which he must have
acquired considerable experience in his chancellor days--to choose
going to live on his own resources at Pontigny rather than accept the
hospitality of his sovereign’s enemy.[218] This arrangement probably
delighted Louis, for it furnished him with a safe answer to Henry’s
complaints and remonstrances about harbouring the “traitor”--Thomas
was in sanctuary in a Cistercian abbey in Burgundy, and France was
not harbouring him at all; while the welcome which Louis gave to the
primate’s exiled friends and the sympathy which he displayed for their
cause heightened his own reputation for devotion to the Church and
served as a foil to set off more conspicuously the supposed hostility
of Henry. To Louis in short the quarrel was something which might turn
to his own advantage by helping to bring Henry into difficulties; and
he used it accordingly with a skill peculiar to himself, making a great
shew of disinterested zeal and friendly mediation, and all the while
taking care that the breach should be kept open till its healing was
required for his own interest.
[218] Anon. II. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 109.
With such an onlooker as this Henry knew that he must play his
game with the utmost caution. He had been provoked by the personal
opposition of his old friend into standing upon his regal dignity more
stiffly than he would have thought it worth while to do so long as
it remained unchallenged. On his side, too, there was a principle at
stake, and he could not give it up unconditionally; but he might have
been induced to accept a compromise, had not the obstinacy of Thomas
forced him into a corresponding attitude of unbending determination.
So keen was his sense of the danger attendant upon the fugitive
archbishop’s presence in France that it led him to postpone once
more the work which he had been planning in England and cross over
to Normandy again early in 1165.[219] Lent was passed in fruitless
attempts to bring about a triple conference between the two kings
and the Pope; Henry refused to allow Thomas to be present; Thomas
begged the Pope not to expose himself to Henry’s wiles without him
who alone could help him to see through them; and Alexander, now busy
with preparations for his return to Rome, was probably not sorry to
escape by declaring that for a temporal prince to dictate who should
or who should not form part of the Pope’s suite was a claim which had
never been heard of before and which he could not possibly admit.[220]
Immediately after Easter he set out on his journey homewards.
[219] Rob. Torigni, a. 1165.
[220] Alan Tewkesb. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), pp. 346,
347; evidently taken from the Pope’s own letter, extant only in
the Icelandic version, in _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p.
329.
The rival party saw their opportunity and seized it without delay.
Their fortunes were now at a very low ebb; the antipope Victor had died
in April; his chief supporter, Cardinal Guy of Crema, had succeeded
him under the title of Paschal III.; but Italy had cast him off,
and even in Germany the tide was turning against him. The Emperor,
however, clung with unwavering determination to his original policy;
and he at once saw in the English king’s quarrel with the Church a
means of gaining for Paschal’s cause what would amply compensate
for all that had been lost. Before Alexander was fairly out of the
French kingdom an embassy from Germany came to Henry at Rouen,
bringing proposals for an alliance to be secured by two marriages: one
between the English princess Matilda, Henry’s eldest daughter, and
the Emperor’s cousin Duke Henry of Saxony; the other between Henry’s
second daughter and Frederic’s own little son. The chief ambassador was
Reginald, archbishop-elect of Cöln, who from the time of Frederic’s
accession--two years before that of Henry--had been his chancellor and
confidential adviser, playing a part curiously like that of Thomas
Becket, till in the very year of the English chancellor’s removal to
Canterbury he was appointed to the see of Cöln. There the parallel
with Thomas ended; for Reginald was the most extreme champion of
the privileges not of the Church but of the Imperial Crown, and was
even more closely identified with the schismatic party than Frederic
himself. Henry sent him over to the queen, who had been left as regent
in England, to receive from her a formal promise of her daughter’s hand
to the duke of Saxony, in a great council convened at Westminster for
that purpose. The old justiciar Earl Robert of Leicester refused the
kiss of peace to the schismatic and caused the altars at which he had
celebrated to be thrown down,[221] thereby saving Henry from the fatal
blunder of committing himself publicly to the cause of the anti-pope,
and England from the dangers of open schism. But he could not prevent
the king from sending two clerks to a council which met at Würzburg
on Whit-Sunday to abjure Pope Alexander and acknowledge Paschal; and
although the fact was strenuously denied, it seems impossible to doubt
that they did take the oath at the Emperor’s hands in their master’s
name;[222] indeed, Reginald of Cöln boasted that Henry had promised to
make all the bishops in his dominions do the same.
[221] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 318. He mistakenly thinks
that the _king_ was at Westminster, and he also thinks the
embassy came in 1167. Its true date, 1165, is shown by the
letters referred to in next note.
[222] Epp. xcviii.–ci. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp.
184–195). Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), pp. 52, 53. _Thomas
Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 331.
A crisis seemed imminent, but Henry managed to avoid it. From the
Emperor’s solicitations, from the Pope’s remonstrances, from all
the pleadings of friends and all the intrigues of foes, he suddenly
made his escape by flying back to England and plunging into a Welsh
war which kept him all the summer safe out of their reach,[223] and
furnished him with an excuse for postponing indefinitely the completion
of his alliance with the schismatic party. Such an alliance would in
fact have cost far more than it was worth. Alexander was once more
safely seated upon S. Peter’s chair, and was urging Thomas to throw
himself wholly on the protection of the king of France; Louis was
in the highest state of triumph, rejoicing over the birth of his
long-desired son; while the whole Angevin dominions, which Eleanor
was governing in her husband’s absence, were full of suppressed
disaffection and surrounded with threatening or intriguing foes.[224]
In Lent 1166 therefore Henry hurried back to Normandy to hold a
conference with Louis, and, if possible, to free his own hands for the
work which lay before him.
[223] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 197) says Henry went
into Wales in 1165, “quo facilius domini Papæ vel etiam
Cantuariensis archiepiscopi ... declinaret sententiam.”
[224] “Movetur enim [rex] Francorum invidiâ, calumniisque
Flandrensium, Wallensium improbitate, Scottorum insidiis,
temeritate Britonum, Pictavorumque fœderibus, interioris
Aquitaniæ sumptibus, Gasconum levitate, et (quod gravius est)
simultate fere omnium quoscumque ditioni ejus constat esse
subjectos.” Ep. clxii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), pp. 313,
314.
The work was in truth a vast and complex one. At the age of
thirty-three Henry was already planning out an elaborate scheme for
the future of his children and the distribution of his territories,
in which the election of his eldest son as joint-king in England was
but the first and least difficult step. Normandy and Anjou, as well as
England, had to be secured for little Henry; Aquitaine was if possible
to be settled upon Richard as his mother’s heir; for Geoffrey Henry was
bent upon acquiring the Breton duchy.[225] Conan IV., whom Henry had in
1158 established as duke of Britanny, had but one child, a daughter,
whose hand, together with the reversion of her father’s territories,
the king was anxious to secure for his son. This however required the
assent not only of Conan but of Louis of France, and also of the Breton
barons, who bitterly resented the Norman interference which had set
Conan as ruler over them, and were inclined to resist to the uttermost
an arrangement which would bring them still more directly under the
Norman yoke; while Louis was but too ready to encourage them in their
resistance. A campaign in the summer of 1166, however, another in
August 1167, and a third in the following spring so far broke their
opposition[226] that in May 1169 Geoffrey was sent into Britanny to
receive their homage as heir to the dukedom; three months later his
father joined him,[227] and at Christmas they held their court together
at Nantes,[228] whence they made a sort of triumphal progress through
the duchy, receiving homage and fealty wherever they went.[229]
[225] Will. Newb. l. ii. c. 18 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 145, 146).
[226] On the Breton campaign of 1166 see R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 329, and Rob. Torigni _ad ann._ Henry was near
Fougères on June 28 (Ep. ccix., Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. p.
421); he was besieging Fougères itself on July 13–14 (Eyton,
_Itin. Hen. II._, p. 96). On the campaigns of 1167 and 1168
see Rob. Torigni _ad ann._, the meagre entries in a Breton
chronicle, a. 1168–1169 (Morice, _Hist. Bret., preuves_, vol.
i. col. 104; _Rer. Gall. Scriptt._, vol. xii. p. 560), and
Chron. S. Albin. a. 1167 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 40), which
tells of Louis’s share in the matter. See also the account
of Henry’s correspondence with King Arthur in _Draco Norm._,
l. ii. cc. 17–22, vv. 941–1282 (Howlett, _Will. Newb._, vol.
ii. pp. 695–707). According to this writer, one of the Breton
leaders--“Arturi dapifer, Rollandus, consul et idem tunc
Britonum” (Mr. Howlett suggests that this may be Roland of
Dinan, _ib._ p. 696 note)--wrote a letter to Arthur imploring
his aid for Britanny, and received a reassuring answer; Henry
also received a long epistle from the blameless king, to which,
“subridens sociis, nil pavefactus,” (c. 21, v. 1218, p. 705)
he returned a polite and diplomatic answer. Unluckily the good
monk omits to say how the letters were conveyed, and gives us
no light upon the postal arrangements between Britanny and
Avalon--which by the way he places among “silvas ... Cornubiæ,
proxima castra loco,” whatever that may mean (c. 20, vv.
1213, 1214, p. 705). It is quite possible that some of the
Breton leaders did seek to rouse the spirit of their followers
by publishing an imaginary correspondence with the mythic
hero-king whose existence was to most of the common people in
Britanny at that time almost as much an article of faith as
any in the Creed; it is possible too that they were themselves
so far carried away by the same illusion as to attempt to work
upon Henry by similar means; and in that case it is extremely
probable that Henry, with his Angevin tact and sense of humour,
would meet the appeal pretty much as the Bec writer represents.
But the letters given in the _Draco_ must be the monk’s own
composition. Neither Roland nor Henry can have been capable of
stringing together such a quantity of pseudo-history, ancient
and modern, as is therein contained.
[227] Rob. Torigni, a. 1169.
[228] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 337. _Gesta Hen._
[“Benedict of Peterborough”] (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 3. Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 3.
[229] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
It had proved easier to subdue Britanny than to hold Aquitaine. The
half independent princes of the south, so scornful of a king beyond
the Loire, were at least equally scornful of a king from beyond the
sea; in November 1166 Henry was obliged to summon them to a conference
at Chinon,[230] and to relieve Eleanor of her task of government by
sending her to keep Christmas in England,[231] while he himself took
her place at Poitiers.[232] His foes seized their opportunity to revive
the vexed question of Toulouse; a meeting with Raymond at Grandmont and
an attempt to assert Henry’s ducal authority over the count of Auvergne
led to a fresh rupture with Louis;[233] and in the spring of 1168 the
discontented barons of Aquitaine, secure of the French king’s goodwill,
broke into open revolt. In the midst of a negotiation with Louis, Henry
hurried away to subdue them.[234] Scarcely had he turned northward
again when Earl Patrick of Salisbury, whom he had appointed to assist
Eleanor in the government of the duchy, was murdered by one of the
rebel leaders;[235] and Eleanor was once more left to stand her ground
alone in Poitou, while her husband was fighting the Bretons, staving
off the ecclesiastical censures which threatened him, and vainly
endeavouring to pacify Louis, who now openly shewed himself as the
champion of all Henry’s disaffected vassals, Breton, Poitevin, Scottish
and Welsh,[236] as well as of the exiled archbishop.
[230] Ep. ccliii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.), p. 74.
[231] Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, pp. 104, 108.
[232] Rob. Torigni, a. 1167. Cf. Ep. cclxxvii. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. vi.), p. 131.
[233] Rob. Torigni, a. 1167. Cf. Chronn. S. Albin. and S. Serg.
a. 1166 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, pp. 40, 149).
[234] Rob. Torigni, a. 1168. Ep. ccccix. (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. vi.), p. 408.
[235] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 205. R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 331. Rob. Torigni, a. 1168. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. i. pp. 273, 274. This last writer states that the slayer
was Guy of Lusignan, and that Guy fled to Jerusalem (of
which he afterwards became king) to escape the punishment of
this crime. This story has been generally adopted by modern
historians. But its latter half is incompatible with the
appearance of “Guy of Lusignan” among the rebels in Aquitaine
in 1173, five years after the death of Patrick (_Gesta Hen._,
Stubbs, vol. i. p. 46); and the whole of it seems to rest
solely on Roger’s misunderstanding of the passage in the
_Gesta_ which he was copying. In that passage Guy is introduced
as “Guido de Lezinan, frater Gaufridi de Lezinan, qui Patricium
comitem Salesbiriensem tempore hostilitatis ... occiderat.
Erat enim prædictus Guido,” etc.; then comes an account of his
adventures in Palestine (_Gesta Hen._, Stubbs, vol. i. p. 343).
Roger of Howden chose to make _qui_ refer to _Guido_; but it
might just as well, or even better, refer to _Gaufridus_. Guy
comes upon the historical scene for the first time in 1173.
It seems pretty clear that Geoffrey was his elder brother,
and took a leading part in southern politics and warfare long
before Guy was of an age to join in them. If Patrick was slain
by either of the brothers, therefore, it was by Geoffrey and
not by Guy. Admitting this much, however, there is still no
ground for looking upon even Geoffrey as a murderer who had
committed such a crime as to be obliged to fly from justice.
For “Geoffrey of Lusignan” stood by the side of Guy among
the rebels of 1173 (_Gesta Hen._, Stubbs, vol. i. p. 46);
“Geoffrey of Lusignan” and his brothers claimed La Marche
against King Henry between 1178 and 1180 (Geoff. Vigeois, l.
i. c. 70, Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._, vol. ii. p. 324); “Geoffrey
of Lusignan” rose against Richard in 1188 (_Gesta Hen._,
Stubbs, vol. ii. p. 34; Rog. Howden, Stubbs, vol. ii. p. 339;
R. Diceto, Stubbs, vol. ii. pp. 54, 55); and it was not till
after he had in this revolt slain a special friend of Richard,
that he betook himself to Palestine, where he arrived in the
summer of the same year (_Itin. Reg. Ric._, Stubbs, p. 26), and
where, moreover, he and Richard afterwards became firm allies.
Geoffrey may therefore enjoy the benefit of the plea which
Bishop Stubbs (_Itin. Reg. Ric._, introd. p. cxxiv, note) puts
forward for Guy, that “there is nothing to show that Patrick
was not killed in fair fight.” But it seems pretty clear that
for the heroic king of Jerusalem himself no such plea is needed
at all.
[236] Rob. Torigni, a. 1168; Epp. ccccix., ccccxxxiv.
(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.), pp. 408, 455, 456.
Henry meanwhile was endeavouring to strengthen his political position
by alliances in more remote quarters; the marriage of his eldest
daughter with the duke of Saxony had taken place early in 1168;[237]
two years before, the hand of one of her sisters had been half
promised to the marquis of Montferrat for his son, in return for his
good offices with the Pope;[238] and a project was now on foot for
the marriage of Henry’s second daughter, Eleanor, with the king of
Castille--a marriage which took place in 1169;[239] while the infant
Jane, who was scarcely four years old, was betrothed to the boy-king
William of Sicily.[240] For Richard his father was now endeavouring to
gain the hand of Adela of France, the younger daughter of Louis and
Constance, as a sort of security for the investiture of Aquitaine;
while at the same time Henry was on the one hand making interest with
the Emperor’s Italian foes, the rising commonwealths of Lombardy and
the jurisconsults of Bologna;[241] and on the other, Frederic was
endeavouring to regain his alliance by an embassy headed by his own
cousin, Henry’s new-made son-in-law, the duke of Saxony.[242]
[237] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 205. From the Pipe
Roll of the year, with Mr. Eyton’s comment (_Itin. Hen. II._,
p. 109), it seems that Matilda and her mother crossed the
sea together in September 1167, and that Matilda went on to
Germany, where she was married early next year, while Eleanor
returned to England before Christmas. Rob. Torigni, a. 1167.
[238] Ep. cclii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.), p. 68.
[239] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 334. The original scheme
seems to have been for marrying both Eleanor and Jane to
Spanish sovereigns, among whom, however, Castille is not named.
In a letter written in the summer of 1168 John of Salisbury
speaks of “regum, Navariensis aut Aragonensis scilicet, quibus
filias suas dare disponit [rex].” Ep. ccccxxxiv. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. vi.) p. 457.
[240] Ep. dxxxviii. (_ib._ vol. vii.) p. 26. Jane was born at
Angers in October 1165; Rob. Torigni, _ad ann._
[241] Epp. dxxxviii., dxxxix. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii.),
pp. 26, 30, 31.
[242] Rob. Torigni, a. 1168. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p.
205. _Draco Norm._, l. iii. cc. 4, 5, vv. 191–360 (Howlett,
_Will. Newb._, vol. ii. pp. 718–724).
All this political, ecclesiastical and diplomatic coil Henry had to
unravel almost single-handed. Of the group of counsellors who had stood
around him in his early years, Arnulf of Lisieux on one side of the sea
and Richard de Lucy on the other were almost the sole survivors. He had
lost the services of his constable Henry of Essex under very painful
circumstances a few months before that council at Woodstock which saw
the beginning of his quarrel with Thomas. The constable was accused by
Robert de Montfort of having committed high treason six years before
by purposely letting fall the standard and falsely proclaiming the
king’s death at the battle of Consilt. Henry of Essex declared that he
had dropped the standard in the paralysis of despair, really believing
the king to be dead; and it is evident from the high commands which he
held in the war of Toulouse and elsewhere that the king continued to
treat him with undiminished confidence, and to regard him as one of his
most valuable ministers and friends. The charge once made, however,
could only be met by ordeal of battle. The encounter took place at
Reading; Henry of Essex went down before his accuser’s lance; and all
that his sovereign could do for him was to save his life by letting the
monks of the neighbouring abbey carry his body off the field as if for
burial, and when he proved to be still alive, suffering him to remain
as a brother of the house, while his property was confiscated to the
Crown and his services were lost to the state.[243] The king’s mother
died in the autumn of 1167;[244] his old friend and adviser Earl Robert
of Leicester passed away in 1168.[245] A desperate attempt was even
made to part him from his wife, in order to get rid of his rights over
Aquitaine;[246] while the man who had once been his most successful
diplomatic agent and his unfailing helper against the wiles of all his
enemies was now the most formidable tool in their hands.
[243] Rob. Torigni, a. 1163. Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 5 (Howlett,
vol. i. p. 108). Joc. Brakelond (Rokewode, Camden Soc.), pp.
50–52. For date see Palgrave, _Eng. Commonwealth_, vol. ii. pp.
xxii, xxiii.
[244] Rob. Torigni, a. 1167. _Draco Norm._, l. iii. c. 1, vv.
1–12 (Howlett, _Will. Newb._, vol. ii. p. 711). Chron. S.
Serg., a. 1167 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 150).
[245] Rob. Torigni, a. 1168. Ann. Waverl. a. 1168 (Luard, _Ann.
Monast._, vol. ii. p. 239). Chron. Mailros, a. 1168.
[246] See the _Gradus cognationis inter regem et reginam_
(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi. p. 266). “Hanc computationem
præsentaverunt Pictavenses cardinalibus quando S. Thomas
exsulabat, sed non sunt auditi.” The “computation” as there
stated is wrong; but the right one really does leave Henry and
Eleanor within the forbidden degrees. (See above, vol. i. p.
393, note 2{1161}, and p. 445, note 11{1418}). They were
cousins in the fifth degree, their common ancestress being
Herleva of Falaise.
It was for his children’s sake that Henry at last bent his pride to do
what he had vowed never to do again. At Montmirail, on the feast of
Epiphany 1169, he renewed his homage to Louis, made full submission
to him, and promised compensation to the Breton and Poitevin barons
for their losses in the recent wars.[247] Next day young Henry did
homage to the French king for the counties of Anjou and Maine,[248]
and, as it seems, of Britanny, which his brother Geoffrey was to hold
under him.[249] Richard did the like for Aquitaine, of which Louis
granted him the investiture,[250] together with a promise of Adela’s
hand.[251] Three weeks later young Henry, in his new capacity of count
of Anjou, officiated in Paris as seneschal to the king of France;[252]
he afterwards repeated his homage to Louis’s son and heir, and received
that of his own brother Geoffrey for the duchy of Britanny.[253]
[247] Ep. cccclxi. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.), pp. 506,
507.
[248] _Ib._ p. 507. Rob. Torigni a. 1169. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 208.
[249] Rob. Torigni, a. 1169, and Gerv. Cant. (as above) say
that young Henry did homage to Louis for Britanny; Normandy was
not mentioned, the homage done for it by young Henry in 1160
being counted sufficient (_ibid._). The elder king himself kept
Touraine on the old terms of homage to Theobald of Blois (Ep.
cccclxi. as above).
[250] Ep. cccclxi., Rob. Torigni and Gerv. Cant. as above.
[251] Gerv. Cant. as above.
[252] Rob. Torigni, a. 1169.
[253] _Ibid._
One thing alone was now lacking to the completion of Henry’s scheme:
the crowning of his heir. There can be no doubt that when he sent
Thomas and the child to England together--the one to be chosen king
and the other to be made primate--he intended the coronation to take
place as soon as he himself could rejoin them. Its performance,
delayed by his own continued absence on the continent, had however
been made impossible by his quarrel with Thomas. That the archbishop
of Canterbury alone could lawfully crown a king of England was a
constitutional as well as an ecclesiastical tradition so deeply rooted
in the minds of Englishmen that nothing short of absolute necessity
had induced Henry I. to set it aside in his own case; and still less
could Henry II. venture to risk such an innovation in the case of his
son.[254] Yet the prospect of a reconciliation with the primate seemed
at this moment further off than ever.
[254] The historical arguments on this subject may be seen in
Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 110,
and Ep. dclxxxiv. (_ib._ vol. vii.), pp. 328–330. Henry was
once said to have projected getting the Pope himself to crown
the child; Ep. lv. (_ib._ vol. v.), p. 100. Against this, of
course, Canterbury could have had nothing to say.
Thomas’s first impulse on entering Pontigny had been to give himself
up to a course of study, devotion and self-discipline more severe than
anything which he had yet attempted. He secretly assumed the habit of
the “white monks,”[255] and nearly ruined his delicate constitution by
a rash endeavour to practise the rigorous abstinence enjoined by the
rules of the order.[256] He grew more diligent than ever in prayer,
meditation, and study of Holy Scripture.[257] But his restless,
impetuous nature could not rise to the serene heights of more than
worldly wisdom urged upon him by John of Salisbury, who truly insisted
that such occupations alone were worthy of a true confessor.[258]
In spite of John’s warnings and pleadings, he still kept all his
friends--John himself included--ceaselessly at work in his behalf; and
while he sought out in every church and convent in Gaul every rare and
valuable book that he could hear of, to be copied for his cathedral
library, he was also raking together for the same collection all the
privileges, old or new, that could be disinterred from the Roman
archives or extorted from the favour of the Pope.[259] Until Easter
1166 Alexander restrained him from any direct measures against the
king;[260] then, unable to keep silence any longer, Thomas again took
the matter into his own hands and wrote to Henry himself, earnestly
imploring him to consider his ways and to grant his old friend a
personal interview.[261] Henry was inexorable; Thomas wrote again, this
time a torrent of mingled warnings, intreaties and remonstrances,[262]
and with just as little effect. Then, towards the end of May, as the
king was holding council with his barons at Chinon, a barefooted monk
came to him with a third letter from the primate.[263] Once again
Thomas expressed his longing for a personal meeting; once again he
set forth the doctrine of the divine rights and duties of kings, and
charged Henry, by the solemn memory of his coronation-vows, to restore
to the English Church her privileges and her chief pastor. Only in
the last sentence came a significant warning: “If not, then know of
a surety that you shall feel the severity of Divine vengeance!”[264]
And there was no doubt about its meaning; for the Empress Matilda
had already transmitted to her son a threat sent to her by Thomas in
plain words, that unless she could bring him to acknowledge his error,
“shortly, yea, very shortly” the “sword of the Spirit” should be drawn
against his dominions and even against himself.[265]
[255] Alan Tewkesb. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), p. 345.
Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 64. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson),
vol. i. p. 315.
[256] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 126, 127. E. Grim (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. ii.), pp. 412, 413. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol.
iii.), pp. 376–379. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 317.
[257] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p.
77. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 379.
[258] Ep. lxxxv. (_ib._ vol. v.), pp. 163, 164.
[259] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.
[260] Ep. xcv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), pp. 179, 180.
[261] Ep. clii. (_ib._ pp. 266–268).
[262] Ep. cliii. (_ib._ pp. 269–278), translated by Garnier
(Hippeau), pp. 100–106.
[263] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 106. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. ii.), p. 419. Cf. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp.
383–385. Eyton (_Itin. Hen. II._, p. 93) dates this council
June 1, but this cannot be reconciled with Thomas’s subsequent
proceedings.
[264] Ep. cliv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp. 278–282),
translated by Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 109–111.
[265] Ep. clxxxiv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. p. 361).
Harassed by disaster and revolt, provoked by the primate’s former
letters, Henry, upon reading this one and hearing the messenger’s
comment upon it--for Thomas had charged him to say a good deal more
than he wrote[266]--might well feel that he was standing on the brink
of a volcano. He turned desperately upon the bishops around him, half
imploring, half commanding them to help him out of his strait, abusing
them for a pack of traitors who would not trouble themselves to rid
him of this one unmanageable foe, and exclaiming with a burst of tears
that the archbishop was destroying him soul and body together; for he
naturally expected nothing less than an interdict on his dominions and
an anathema against himself, and both sanctioned by the Pope. When
Henry was thus at his wits’ end, the only one among his continental
advisers who was likely to have any counsel to offer him was Arnulf of
Lisieux. Once more Arnulf proved equal to the occasion; he suggested
that the primate’s intended censures should be forestalled by an appeal
to the Pope. The remedy was a desperate one, for, as John of Salisbury
triumphantly remarked when he heard of it, the king was flying in the
face of his own Constitutions and confirming that very right of appeal
which he was so anxious to abolish, by thus having recourse to it for
his own protection. But there was no other loophole of escape; so the
appeal was made, a messenger was despatched to give notice of it in
England, close the ports and cut off all communication with Thomas
and with the Pope; while the bishops of Lisieux and Séez set out for
Pontigny to bid the primate stay his hand till the octave of Easter
next, which was fixed for the term of Henry’s appeal.[267]
[266] Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 385.
[267] Ep. cxciv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), pp. 381, 382.
Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 393, confuses this appeal
with a later one.
They were too late. No sooner had the barefooted messenger returned
with his tidings of the king’s irreconcileable wrath than Thomas
hurried to Soissons on a pilgrimage to its three famous shrines:--those
of the Blessed Virgin, who had been the object of his special reverence
ever since he learned the Ave Maria at his mother’s knee; of S. Gregory
the Great, the patron of the whole English Church and more particularly
of Canterbury and its archbishops; and of S. Drausius, who was believed
to have the power of rendering invincible any champion who spent a
night in prayer before his relics. Before each of these shrines Thomas,
like a warrior preparing for mortal combat, passed a night in solemn
vigil, the last night being that of the festival of S. Drausius, and
also of Ascension-day.[268] On the morrow he left Soissons;[269] on
Whitsun-eve[270] he reached Vézelay, a little town distant only a
day’s journey from Pontigny, and made famous by its great abbey, which
boasted of possessing the body of S. Mary Magdalene. Thomas found
the place crowded with pilgrims assembled to keep the Whitsun feast
on this venerated spot. He was invited by the abbot to celebrate
High Mass and preach on the festival day;[271] his sermon ended, he
solemnly anathematized the royal customs and all their upholders, and
excommunicated by name seven persons whom he denounced as special
enemies to the Church; the two first being Henry’s confidential envoys
John of Oxford and Richard of Ilchester, who had been the medium of his
communications with the Emperor; while a third, Jocelyn de Bailleul,
was one of his chief advisers, and a fourth was no less a personage
than the justiciar, Richard de Lucy.[272] Thomas had set out from
Soissons in the full determination to excommunicate Henry himself at
the same time; but on his way he learned that the king was dangerously
ill; he therefore contented himself with a solemn warning publicly
addressed to him by name, calling him to repentance for the last time,
and in default, threatening him with immediate excommunication.[273]
[268] It was also the anniversary of his own ordination to the
priesthood--June 2.
[269] Ep. cxciv. (Robertson, vol. v.), p. 382.
[270] Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 391, says “proximâ
ante festum die,” and he makes the festival that of S. Mary
Magdalene, the patron of the place. Tempting, however, as his
version is--for it would explain at once Thomas’s otherwise
rather unaccountable choice of Vézelay for the scene of his
proceedings, and the great concourse of people who evidently
were assembled there--it is quite irreconcileable with the
minute chronological details of John of Salisbury’s letter (Ep.
cxciv. as above), written within a few weeks of the events,
while Herbert’s story was written from memory, many years
after. On the other hand, R. Diceto’s date (Stubbs, vol. i. p.
318), Ascension-day, is more impossible still.
[271] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 391.
[272] The details of the sentence are in Thomas’s own letters,
Epp. cxcv., cxcvi., cxcviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.),
pp. 386–391, 392–397. Cf. Ep. cxciv. (_ibid._), p. 383. The
other excommunicated persons were Ralf de Broc, Hugh of S.
Clare and Thomas Fitz-Bernard. Their crime was invasion of
Church property. Richard of Ilchester and John of Oxford were
condemned for their dealings with the schismatics; Richard
de Lucy and Jocelyn de Bailleul, as being the authors of the
Constitutions.
[273] Epp. cxciv., cxcvi., cxcviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol.
v.), pp. 382, 383, 391, 396. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp.
391, 392.
The news of these proceedings reached Henry when, sick and anxious,
he was trying to gather up strength and energy for a campaign against
the Bretons. He instantly despatched another messenger to England,
bidding Richard de Lucy call an assembly of the bishops and clergy
and compel them to make a general appeal to the Pope against the
authority and jurisdiction of their primate.[274] The meeting was
held in London[275] at midsummer.[276] The appeal was made and sent
to the Pope in the name of all the bishops and clergy of England;
but it is tolerably clear that the main body were merely passive
followers, more or less willing, of Gilbert of London and Jocelyn
of Salisbury, the former of whom was almost certainly the writer of
the letter which conveyed the appeal to the Pope, as well as of that
which announced it to the primate.[277] The hand of Gilbert Foliot was
indeed so plainly visible that Thomas’s reply was addressed with equal
plainness to him personally.[278] The long and sarcastic letter with
which he retorted[279] was answered in a yet more startling fashion at
the opening of the next year. As Gilbert stood before the high altar
of his cathedral church on the feast of its patron saint a paper was
thrust into his hand; to his dismay it proved to be a papal brief
granting to Archbishop Thomas a commission as legate for all England,
and commanding the bishops to render him unqualified obedience and to
resign within two months whatever confiscated church property had been
placed in their charge by the king. In an agony of distress Gilbert,
who himself had the custody of the Canterbury estates, sent this
news to the king, imploring him to grant permission that the Pope’s
mandate might be obeyed, at least till some method could be devised
for escaping from a dilemma which now looked well-nigh hopeless.[280]
Henry, absorbed in a struggle with the Bretons, had already been
provoked into a vengeance as impolitic as it was mean. He threatened
the Cistercian abbots assembled on Holy Cross day at the general
chapter of their order that if Thomas were not immediately expelled
from Pontigny, he would send all the White Monks in his dominions to
share the primate’s exile.[281] When the abbot of Pontigny carried this
message home, Thomas could only bid him farewell and betake himself
to the sole protection left him--that of the king of France. He left
Pontigny on S. Martin’s day[282] 1166, and took up his abode as the
guest of Louis in the abbey of S. Columba at Sens.[283]
[274] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 200.
[275] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 200. Will. Cant.
(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. i.), p. 56.
[276] Ep. ccix. (_ib._ vol. v.), p. 421.
[277] Epp. cciv., ccv. (_ib._ vol. v.), pp. 403–413. Cf.
Ep. ccix. (_ibid._), p. 241, and Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol.
i.), pp. 56, 57. The bishop of Exeter consented to appeal,
but in a fashion of his own, of which however there is no
trace in the letter actually sent to the Pope. Two prelates
were absent: Walter of Rochester, who pleaded illness, and
Henry of Winchester, who wrote in excuse: “Vocatus a summo
Pontifice, nec appello nec appellare volo.” The others thought
he meant that the Pope had cited him; “ipse vero summum
Pontificem, summum Judicem intelligebat, ad cujus tribunal
jamjam trahebatur examinandus, tanquam qui in multis diebus
processerat et vitæ metis appropinquaret.” So says Will.
Cant.; but John of Salisbury says distinctly that the letter
of appeal was sealed by London, _Winchester_ and Hereford (Ep.
cclii., Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi. p. 65). Can William
have founded his pretty story on the old confusion (which is
perpetually breaking out in his favourite authority, Garnier,
and in other writers who have less excuse for it) between
_Wincestre_ and _Wirecestre_--and was Roger of Worcester the
real absentee? He certainly did not share in the obloquy which
this appeal brought upon Robert of Hereford, with whom hitherto
he had usually been coupled by Thomas; on the contrary, he and
Bartholomew of Exeter are henceforth always coupled together as
fellow-sufferers for their loyalty to the primate.
[278] Epp. ccxxiii., ccxxiv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp.
490–520).
[279] The famous “Multiplicem nobis et diffusam.” Ep. ccxxv.
(_ib._ pp. 521–544).
[280] Ep. ccviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp. 417, 418).
The Pope’s brief is Ep. clxxii. (_ib._ pp. 328, 329); it is
dated “Anagniæ, vii. Idus Octobris,” but its true date is
Easter-day, April 24 (see editor’s note, p. 329)--the actual
date of the letter whereby Alexander notified his act to
the English bishops; Ep. clxxiii. (Robertson, as above, pp.
229–231). The diocese (not the province) of York was exempted
from Thomas’s legatine jurisdiction--the reason being that
Roger of York was legate for Scotland (Ep. cclxx., _ib._ vol.
vi. p. 119). Thomas sent the brief over to his friends Robert
of Hereford and Roger of Worcester, bidding them communicate
it to their brethren, beginning with London (Ep. clxxix.,
_ib._ vol. v. pp. 344–346). Canon Robertson supposes this
brief to have been delivered to Gilbert on the feast of the
Commemoration of S. Paul, _i.e._ June 30, 1166. Gilbert himself
says merely “die beati Pauli”; and his letter has no date. But
it mentions “legatos qui diriguntur ad nos”; and there is no
hint elsewhere of any talk about sending legates till late in
the autumn, or even winter. There really seems to be no reason
why we should not adopt a more obvious rendering of the date,
as representing the greater and better-known festival of S.
Paul’s Conversion. In that case, of course, the year must be
1167.
[281] Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. i.), p. 50. E.
Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 414. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol.
iii.), p. 83. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 397. Anon. I. (_ib._
vol. iv.), p. 65. Cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 371.
[282] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 201, 202.
[283] E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), p. 415. Herb.
Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 403, 404; etc.
Henry saw his own blunder as soon as it was made, and endeavoured
to neutralize its effects by despatching an embassy to the Pope,
requesting that he would send a legatine commission to settle the
controversy. One of his envoys was the excommunicate John of Oxford;
to the horror of Thomas and the indignation of Louis, John came
back in triumph, boasting not only that he had been absolved by the
Pope, but that two cardinals, William and Otto--the former of whom
was a determined opponent of Thomas--were coming with full powers to
sit in judgement on the case between primate and king and decide it
without appeal.[284] The first half of the boast was true, but not the
second; the cautious Pope instructed his envoys to do nothing more
than arbitrate between the contending parties, if they could.[285]
They did not reach Normandy till the autumn of 1167; Thomas came to
meet them on the French border on November 18; he refused to enter
upon any negotiations till the property of the metropolitan see
was restored;[286] the legates carried their report to the king at
Argentan, and were dismissed with an exclamation of disappointment and
disgust--“I wish I may never set eyes upon a cardinal again!”[287] Five
of the English bishops whom Henry had summoned to advise him renewed
their appeal,[288] its original term having expired six months ago;
and the legates insisting that Thomas should respect the appeal,[289]
another year’s delay was gained.
[284] Epp. cclxxx., cclxxxiii., cclxxxv., ccxcii. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. vi.), pp. 140, 146, 147, 151–153, 170, 171.
[285] Ep. cccvii. (_ibid._), p. 201. Cf. Will. Cant. (_ib._
vol. i.), p. 65, and Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 202, 203.
[286] Epp. cccxxxi., cccxxxii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.),
pp. 247–251, 256–258.
[287] Ep. cccxxxix. (_ibid._), pp. 269, 270.
[288] Epp. cccxxxix., cccxli.–cccxlv. (_ibid._), pp. 270–272,
276, 277, 283–288.
[289] Ep. cccxliii. (_ibid._), pp. 284, 285.
At last, when the two kings made their treaty at Montmirail at
Epiphany 1169, Thomas, who had come to the spot under the protection
of Louis, suddenly entered the royal presence and fell at Henry’s
feet, offering to place himself unreservedly in his hands. All parties
thought the struggle was over, till the archbishop added once again
the words which had so exasperated Henry at Oxford and at Clarendon:
“Saving God’s honour and my order.” The king burst into a fury, and
the meeting broke up in confusion.[290] Three months later, on Palm
Sunday, from the high altar of Clairvaux, Thomas excommunicated ten
of his opponents, first among whom was Gilbert Foliot.[291] Gilbert,
who knew that the sentence had been hanging over him for more than a
year, had appealed against it before it was uttered;[292] the king,
too, was forewarned, and at every seaport guards were set to catch and
punish with the utmost rigour any messenger from the primate. It was
not till Ascension-day that a young layman named Berengar made his way
up to the altar of Gilbert’s cathedral church in the middle of High
Mass and thrust into the hand of the celebrant the archbishop’s letter
proclaiming the excommunication of the bishop.[293] On that very day
Thomas issued another string of excommunications.[294] Gilbert, driven
to extremity, renewed his appeal two days later; and he added to it a
formal refusal to acknowledge the jurisdiction of a metropolitan to
whom he had made no profession, and a declaration--so at least it was
reported in Gaul--of his intention to claim the metropolitical dignity
for his own see, as an ancient right of which it had been unjustly
defrauded by Canterbury.[295] A storm of indignant protest and vehement
denunciation arose from the archbishop’s party; and the terrified Pope
checked further proceedings by despatching another pair of envoys, who
as usual failed to agree either with the king, with the archbishop, or
even with each other, and after wasting the summer in misunderstandings
and recriminations left the case just where they had found it.[296]
By this time king and primate were both weary of their quarrel, and
still more weary of mediation. In November they had another personal
interview at Montmartre, and the archbishop’s unconditional restoration
was all but decided.[297] Thomas, however, rashly attempted to hasten
the completion of the settlement by a threat of interdict;[298] and
the threat stung Henry into an act of far greater rashness. He had met
Louis, as well as Thomas, at Montmartre, and had gained his immediate
object of restraining the French king yet a little longer from direct
hostilities; the settlement of Britanny was completed at Christmas,
that of Aquitaine was so far secure that its conclusion might safely be
left to Eleanor’s care; in March 1170 Henry went to England[299] with
the fixed determination of seeing his eldest son crowned there before
he left it again.
[290] Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 418–427. Epp.
ccccli., cccclxi. (_ib._ vol. vi.), pp. 488, 489, 507–509. Cf.
Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), pp. 73, 74, and _Thomas Saga_
(Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 427–433.
[291] Ep. cccclxxxviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi. pp. 558,
559). See also Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 87, and
for date, R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 333.
[292] Ep. dxiii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.), p. 614.
[293] Compare the account given by “Magister Willelmus” in Ep.
dviii. (_ibid._), pp. 603, 604, with that of Will. Fitz-Steph.
(_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 89, 90. They are clearly from the same
hand.
[294] Epp. dii., dvii. (_ib._ vol. vi.), pp. 594, 601–603. For
date cf. Ep. cccclxxxviii. (_ib._ pp. 558, 559).
[295] Ep. dviii. (_ibid._), pp. 604–606--a very circumstantial
account, yet one can scarcely understand how a man so wise and
so learned as Gilbert can really have made such an utterly
unhistorical claim. He must have known that it had no shadow
of foundation, the nearest approach to such a thing being S.
Gregory’s abortive scheme for fixing the two archbishoprics
at London and York. Gilbert’s opponents, on the other hand,
declared that he derived his claim from the archpriests
of Jupiter who had their seat in the Roman Londinium, and
denounced him as their would-be representative and successor.
Epp. dxxxv., dxlvi. (_ib._ vol. vii.), pp. 10, 41.
[296] On this legation of Gratian and Vivian see R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 335; Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp.
212, 213; Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.),
pp. 441–445; Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), pp. 72, 73; Epp.
ccccxci., ccccxcii. (_ib._ vol. vi.), pp. 563, 564, 567; dlx.,
dlxi., dlxiii.–dlxviii., dlxxxi., dlxxxiv., dci., dcii. (_ib._
vol. vii.), pp. 70–76, 78–92, 115, 116, 124, 125, 151–154, etc.
[297] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp.
97, 98; Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), pp. 445–451; Epp. dciv.–dcvii.
(_ib._ vol. vii. pp. 158–168). _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.
i. p. 447. R. Diceto as above, pp. 335–337. Gerv. Cant. as
above, p. 213.
[298] Epp. dlxxiii.–dlxxvii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii.
pp. 97–109), etc.
[299] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 3. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 3. Gerv. Cant. as above, p. 216.
Three years before, he had wrung from the Pope--then blockaded in Rome
by the Imperial troops, and in the last extremity of peril--a brief
authorizing young Henry’s coronation by the archbishop of York, in
default of the absent primate of all England.[300] In face of a mass of
earlier and later rescripts from Alexander’s predecessors and Alexander
himself, all strenuously confirming the exclusive privileges of
Canterbury, Henry had never yet ventured to make use of this document;
like Adrian’s bull for the conquest of Ireland, it had been kept in
reserve for a future day; and that day had now come. In vain did Thomas
proclaim his threatened interdict;[301] in vain did the Pope ratify
it;[302] in vain did both alike issue prohibitions to all the English
bishops against the act which they knew to be in contemplation.[303]
The vigilance of the justiciars, quickened by a fresh set of stringent
injunctions sent over by the king in the previous autumn,[304] made
the delivery of letters from either primate or Pope so difficult that
Thomas at last could intrust it to no one but a nun, Idonea, whom he
solemnly charged with the duty of presenting to Roger of York the papal
brief in which the coronation was forbidden.[305] The ceremony was
fixed for Sunday, June 14. A week before that date young Henry, who
with his girl-bride Margaret of France had been left at Caen under the
care of his mother and Richard of Hommet the constable of Normandy,
was summoned to join his father in England.[306] On S. Barnabas’s day
the bishops and barons assembled at Westminster in obedience to the
royal summons;[307] on Saturday, the 13th, the Pope’s letter was at
last forced upon the archbishop of York;[308] but none the less did he
on the following morning crown and anoint young Henry in Westminster
abbey; while Gilbert of London, who had managed to extort conditional
absolution in the Pope’s name from Archbishop Rotrou of Rouen,[309]
once more stood openly by his side in the foremost rank of the English
bishops.[310]
[300] Ep. cccx. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi. pp. 206, 207).
See the editor’s note as to the date.
[301] Epp. dclxxviii.–dclxxxiii. (_ib._ vol. vii. pp. 320–325).
[302] Epp. dcxxviii.–dcxxx. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii. pp.
210–214).
[303] Epp. dcxxxii., dcxxxiii., dcxlviii.–dcli. (_ib._ pp. 216,
217, 256–264). Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 462, puts this
interdict too late.
[304] The “ten ordinances”; Ep. dxcix. (_ib._ vol. vii. pp.
147–149); Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), pp. 53–55; Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 214–216; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. i.
pp. 231–236; on the date see Bishop Stubbs’s note at last
reference.
[305] Ep. dclxxii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii. pp.
307–309). See the editor’s note.
[306] Ep. dclxxiii. (_ibid._), pp. 309, 312.
[307] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 5.
[308] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p.
103.
[309] _Ibid._ Epp. dclviii.–dclx. (_ib._ vol. vii. pp. 275–277).
[310] Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above), p. 103; _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 5; Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs) vol. i. p. 219.
R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 338, Chron. Mailros, a. 1170,
Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 4, Chron. S. Serg. a. 1169
(Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 150), all give different dates, and
all wrong.
The elder king only waited to see the tenants-in-chief, with the king
of Scots at their head, swear fealty to his new-made colleague ere he
hurried back to Normandy to meet the fast-gathering storm.[311] Louis,
incensed that his daughter’s husband should have been crowned without
her, was already threatening war;[312] Thomas, seeing in the king’s
action nothing but the climax of Canterbury’s wrongs, was overwhelming
the Pope with complaints, reproaches, and intreaties for summary
vengeance upon all who had taken part in the coronation; and the
majority of the cardinals strongly supported his demands.[313] Henry
saw that he must make peace at any price. Two days before the feast of
S. Mary Magdalene he held a conference with Louis near Fréteval, on the
borders of the Vendômois and the county of Chartres;[314] they were
reconciled, and as they parted Henry said jestingly to the French king:
“That rascal of yours, too, shall have his peace to-morrow; and a right
good peace shall it be.”[315] At dawn on S. Mary Magalene’s day[316] he
met Thomas in the “Traitor’s Meadow,”[317] close to Fréteval; they rode
apart together, and remained in conference so long that the patience
of their followers was all but exhausted, when at last Thomas was seen
to dismount and throw himself at the king’s feet. Henry sprang from
his horse, raised the archbishop from the ground, held his stirrup
while he remounted, and rode back to tell his followers that peace was
made, on terms which practically amounted to a complete mutual amnesty
and a return to the state of affairs which had existed before the
quarrel.[318]
[311] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 6. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 220. Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. i.), p. 83. Henry landed at Barfleur about Midsummer;
_Gesta Hen._ as above.
[312] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[313] Ep. dccvii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii. pp. 373, 374).
[314] “In limitibus suis inter Firmitatem, oppidum scilicet
in pago Carnotensi, et Fretivalle, castrum videlicet in
territorio Turonensi.” Ep. dclxxxv. (_ibid._), p. 339. This
_Firmitas_ must be La Ferté-Villeneuil, and _Turonensi_ should
be _Vindocinensi_. Herb. Bosh., who lays the scene “in confinio
Carnotusiæ et _Cenomanniæ_, inter duo castella quorum unum
nominatur Viefui” [Viévy-le-Rayé] “et alterum Freteval” (_ib._
vol. iii. p. 466), is no nearer to the true geography.
[315] “Et crastinâ die habebit pacem suam latro vester; et
quidem bonam habebit.” Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 108.
[316] Ep. dclxxxv. (_ib._ vol. vii.), p. 340.
[317] Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 466. _Thomas Saga_
(Magnusson), vol. i. p. 461.
[318] Epp. dclxxxiv., dclxxxv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol.
vii.), pp. 326–334, 340–342. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol.
iii.), pp. 108–111. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 466. Garnier
(Hippeau), pp. 150, 151. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), pp. 461–465.
Henry had no sooner returned to Normandy than he fell sick almost to
death; on his recovery he went on a pilgrimage to the shrine of our
Lady at Rocamadour in the Quercy,[319] and it was not until October
that Thomas again saw him at Tours, on his way to a conference with
Count Theobald of Blois at Amboise.[320] A difficulty had arisen about
the restitution of the confiscated Church property and the absolution
of the persons whom Thomas had excommunicated, each party insisting
that the other should make the first step in conciliation.[321] There
was also a difficulty about the kiss of peace, which Thomas required
as pledge of Henry’s sincerity, but which Henry seemed desirous of
postponing indefinitely.[322] Nevertheless, a letter from Henry to his
son, announcing the reconciliation and bidding the young king enforce
the restoration of the archiepiscopal estates, was drawn up in Thomas’s
presence at Amboise and sent over to England by the hands of two of
his clerks,[323] who presented it at Westminster on October 5.[324]
The restoration was, however, not effected until Martinmas, and then
it comprised little more than empty garners and ruined houses.[325]
Thomas saw the king once more, at Chaumont,[326] and Henry promised
to meet him again at Rouen, thence to proceed with him to England
in person.[327] Before the appointed time came, however, fresh
complications had arisen with the king of France; Henry was obliged to
give up all thought of going not only to England but even to Normandy,
and delegated the archbishop of Rouen and the dean of Salisbury to
escort Thomas in his stead.
[319] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 6, 7.
[320] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.) pp. 468,
469. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 114. Garnier (Hippeau), p.
154. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 469. The writer of
the _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 8) gives the date of this
meeting as Tuesday, October 12. But this must be quite ten days
too late, for we shall see that a letter drawn up after the
meeting was received in England on October 5.
[321] Ep. dclxxxiv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii.), pp.
333–337.
[322] Henry alleged that he had publicly sworn never to give
Thomas the kiss of peace, and could not face the shame of
breaking his oath. Garnier (Hippeau), p. 150; Herb. Bosh.
(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 450; Ep. dcxxiii. (_ib._
vol. vii.) pp. 198, 199; _Thomas Saga_, as above, p. 449. See
in Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 469, Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._),
p. 115, and _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 469, the contrivance
by which he avoided it at Tours--or Amboise, in William’s
version.
[323] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 156, 157. The letter, of which
Garnier gives a translation, is Ep. dcxc. (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. vii.) pp. 346, 347; also in Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.),
p. 85; Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 112; Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 221; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 339.
[324] Ep. dccxv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii.), p. 389.
[325] Ep. dccxxxiii. (_ibid._), p. 402.
[326] Chaumont on the Loire, seemingly. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol.
iii.), p. 470. Cf. _Thomas Saga_, as above, pp. 471–473.
[327] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp.
115, 116.
The duty finally devolved solely upon the dean, who was no other than
Thomas’s old opponent John of Oxford.[328] Naturally enough, the
primate was deeply hurt at being thus sent back to his see under the
protection of a man who, as he truly said, ought to have been thankful
for the privilege of travelling in his suite.[329] Thomas, however,
was in haste to be gone, although fully persuaded that he was going to
his death. He seems indeed to have been weary of life; the tone of his
letters and of his parting words to the friends whom he was leaving
in France indicates not so much a morbid presentiment of his fate as
a passionate longing for it. Yet it can hardly have been from him
alone that the foreboding communicated itself to so many other minds.
Warnings came to him from all quarters; one voice after another, from
the king of France[330] down to the very pilot of the ship in which
he took his passage, implored him not to go; Herbert of Bosham alone
upheld his resolution to the end.[331]
[328] _Ib._ p. 116. Epp. dccxxii., dccxxiii. (_ib._ vol. vii.),
pp. 400, 403. Garnier (Hippeau), p. 160.
[329] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.
[330] _Ib._ p. 113.
[331] Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), pp. 472–476.
We may put aside at once all the wild talk of the archbishop’s
biographers about plots against his life in which the king had a share.
Even if Henry’s sudden willingness for his return was really suggested
by words said to have been uttered by one of his counsellors--“Why
keep the archbishop out of England? It would be far better to keep him
in it”--there is no need to assume that those words bore even in the
speaker’s mind, far less in that of the king, the horrible meaning
which they were afterwards supposed to have covered;[332] for they
were true in the most literal sense. The quarrel of king and primate
would have mattered little had it been fought out on English ground;
it was the archbishop’s exile which rendered him so dangerous. Thomas
had dealt his most fatal blow at Henry by flying from him, and Henry,
as he now perceived, had made his worst blunder in driving Thomas into
France. Of the infinitely greater blunder involved in the archbishop’s
murder--setting the criminal aspect of the deed altogether aside--it
is enough to say that Henry was wholly incapable. The same may be
said of Roger of York and Gilbert of London, although, like the king
himself, they were urged by dread of the archbishop into making common
cause with men of a very different stamp:--men who hated the primate
with a far more intense personal hatred, and who were restrained by
no considerations either of policy or of morality:--men such as Ralf
de Broc, a ruffian adventurer who had served as the tool of Henry’s
vengeance upon the archbishop’s kinsfolk, had resumed the custody of
the archiepiscopal estates when it was resigned by Gilbert Foliot, had
been for the last four years at once fattening upon the property of
Thomas and smarting under his excommunication, and was ready to commit
any crime rather than disgorge his ill-gotten gains.[333] It was known
that Thomas had letters from the Pope suspending all those bishops
who had taken part in the coronation of the young king, and replacing
Gilbert of London, Jocelyn of Salisbury, and all whom Thomas had
excommunicated under the sentences from which they had been irregularly
released by some of the Papal envoys.[334] Gilbert, Jocelyn and Roger
of York now hurried to Canterbury, intending to proceed to Normandy
as soon as Thomas set foot in England; while Ralf de Broc, Reginald de
Warren and Gervase of Cornhill the sheriff of Kent undertook to catch
him at the moment of landing, ransack his baggage, search his person,
and seize any Papal letters which he might bring with him. Thomas,
however was warned; he sent the letters over before him, and the three
prelates at Canterbury read their condemnation before their judge
quitted Gaul.[335] Next day he sailed from Wissant, and on the morning
of December 1 he landed at Sandwich.[336] His enemies were ready to
receive him; but at the sight of John of Oxford they stopped short, and
John in the king’s name forbade all interference with the primate.[337]
Amid the rapturous greetings of the people who thronged to welcome
their chief pastor, he rode on to Canterbury; there some of the royal
officials came to him in the king’s name, demanding the absolution of
the suspended and excommunicate bishops. Thomas at first answered that
he could not annul a Papal sentence; but he afterwards offered to take
the risk of doing so, if the culprits would abjure their errors in the
form prescribed by the Church. Gilbert and Jocelyn were inclined to
yield; but Roger refused, and they ended by despatching Geoffrey Ridel
to enlist the sympathies of the young king in their behalf, while they
themselves carried their protest to his father in Normandy.[338]
[332] Will Fitz-Steph. as above, pp. 106, 107.
[333] On Ralf de Broc see Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 75; Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 360;
Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.) p. 65; E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p.
404; Epp. lxxviii. (_ib._ vol. v. p. 152), cccxli., ccccxcviii.
(_ib._ vol. vi. pp. 278, 582), dccxviii., dccxxiii. (_ib._ vol.
vii. pp. 394, 402). In the last place Thomas says that Ralf
“in ecclesiam Dei ... per septem annos licentius debacchatus
est”; and the writer of the _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.
i. p. 321, seems to have understood this as meaning that Ralf
had had the stewardship of the Canterbury property throughout
the archbishop’s exile. This, however, does not appear to have
been the case. Ralf certainly had the stewardship for a short
time at first; but it was, as we have seen, soon transferred to
Gilbert Foliot, and only restored to Ralf when Gilbert resigned
it early in 1167.
[334] Epp. dccxx., dccxxii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii. pp.
397–399).
[335] Ep. dccxxiii., dccxxiv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii.),
pp. 403, 410. Cf. Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), pp. 87–89; Will.
Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 117; Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._),
pp. 471, 472; Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 68; Anon. II.
(_ibid._), p. 123; Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 161, 163. The version
in _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 483, seems founded on
a confusion between the delivery of these Papal letters and
that which Berengar delivered in S. Paul’s on the Ascension-day
of the previous year.
[336] Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above), p. 118. Herb. Bosh.
(_ibid._) p. 476. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 68. Garnier
(Hippeau), p. 164. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 339. Gerv.
Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 222. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), pp.
489–491. The date is from Will. Fitz-Steph., R. Diceto and the
Saga; Gervase makes it November 30, and Herbert “two or three
days after the feast of S. Andrew.”
[337] Will. Fitz-Steph. and Garnier, as above. Ep. dccxxiii.
(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii.), pp. 403, 404. _Thomas Saga_
(as above), p. 491.
[338] Ep. dccxxiii., dccxxiv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol.
vii.), pp. 404–406, 411, 412. Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), pp.
102–105. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 120, 121.
Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 480. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.
i. pp. 497–501. Garnier (Hippeau), p. 172, erroneously thinks
the censures on the bishops were not issued till Christmas-day.
The young king was preparing to hold his Christmas court at
Winchester.[339] Thomas proposed to join it, but was stopped in
London by a peremptory command to “go back and mind his own business
at Canterbury.”[340] He obeyed under protest, and on Christmas-day
again excommunicated the De Brocs and their fellow-robbers.[341]
The elder king was keeping the feast at his hunting-seat of Bures
near Bayeux.[342] There the three bishops threw themselves at his
feet; Roger of York spoke in the name of all, and presented the
Papal letters;[343] the courtiers burst into a confused storm of
indignation, but not one had any counsel to offer. In his impatience
and disappointment Henry uttered the fatal words which he was to rue
all his life: “What a parcel of fools and dastards have I nourished
in my house, that none of them can be found to avenge me of this one
upstart clerk!”[344]
[339] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 166. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 106. Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 126.
R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 342, says the young king was at
Woodstock when Thomas sought for an interview; he was, however,
certainly at Winchester at Christmas.
[340] “Fère vostre mestier à Cantorbire alez.” Garnier
(Hippeau), p. 171. Cf. Ep. dccxxiv. (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. vii.), p. 412; Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.) pp. 106–113;
Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 121–123; Herb. Bosh.
(_ibid._), pp. 482, 483; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 13;
_Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 505–507.
[341] Will. Cant. (as above), p. 120. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.),
p. 428. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 130. Herb.
Bosh. (_ibid._), pp. 484, 485. R. Diceto (as above), p. 342.
_Thomas Saga_ (as above), pp. 511–513.
[342] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 481. Garnier (Hippeau), p.
175. _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 11. Rob. Torigni, a.
1171.
[343] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 175–177. Will. Cant. (as above),
pp. 122, 123. Cf. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), pp. 501–503.
[344] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 175. Will. Cant. (as above), p.
121. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 429. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol.
iii.), p. 487.
The words were hardly more than he had used at Chinon four years
before, but they fell now upon other ears. Four knights--Hugh de
Morville, William de Tracy, Reginald Fitz-Urse and Richard le
Breton[345]--took them as a warrant for the primate’s death. That
night--it was Christmas-eve[346]--they vowed to slay him, no matter how
or where;[347] they left the court in secret, crossed to England by
different routes,[348] and met again at Saltwood, a castle which the
archbishop had been vainly endeavouring to recover from the clutches
of Ralf de Broc, and where Ralf himself was dwelling amid a crowd of
his kinsfolk and dependents. There the final plot was laid.[349] How it
was executed is a tale which has been told so often that its details
may well be spared here. On the evening of December 29, after a scene
in his own hall scarcely less disgraceful than the last scene in the
king’s hall at Northampton, the primate of all England was butchered at
the altar’s foot in his own cathedral church.[350]
[345] In Will. Cant. (as above), pp. 128, 129, is a “descriptio
spiculatorum,” in which the only point of interest is the
English speech of Hugh de Morville’s mother.
[346] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 177. Will. Cant. (as above), p. 123.
[347] Garnier, as above. Will. Cant. (as above), p. 124. E.
Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 429. Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 128. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 487.
_Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 517.
[348] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 177. Will. Cant. (Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. i.) p. 124, Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.),
p. 130. _Thomas Saga_ as above.
[349] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above; cf. _ib._ p. 126. _Thomas
Saga_, as above, pp. 517–519. Saltwood was mentioned, as a
special subject for inquiry and restitution, in the king’s
letter commending Thomas to his son.
[350] Will. Cant. (as above), pp. 131–135. Joh. Salisb. (_ib._
vol. ii.), pp. 319, 320. E. Grim (_ibid._), pp. 430–438.
Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 132–142. Herb. Bosh.
(_ibid._), pp. 488 _et seq._ Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp.
70–77. Anon. II. (_ibid._), pp. 128–132. Garnier (Hippeau), pp.
179–195. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 343, 344. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 224–227. _Thomas Saga_ as above, pp.
523–549.
The ill news travelled fast. It fell like a thunderbolt upon the
Norman court still gathered round the king at Argentan,[351] whither
the assembly had adjourned after the Christmas feast at Bures. Henry
stood for a moment speechless with horror, then burst into a frenzy of
despair, and shut himself up in his own rooms, refusing to eat or drink
or to see any one.[352] In a few days more, as he anticipated, all
Christendom was ringing with execration of the murder and clamouring
for vengeance upon the king who was universally regarded as its
instigator. The Pope ordered an interdict upon Henry’s continental
dominions, excommunicated the murderers and all who had given or should
henceforth give them aid, shelter or support, and was only restrained
from pronouncing a like sentence upon the king himself by a promise
that he would make compurgation and submit to penance.[353] Two
cardinal-legates charged with the enforcement of these decrees were at
once despatched to Normandy;[354] but when they arrived there, Henry
was out of their reach. The death of Duke Conan in February had thrown
Britanny completely into his hands; he only stayed to secure Geoffrey’s
final establishment there as duke[355] before he called a council at
Argentan and announced that he was going to Ireland.[356] He quitted
Normandy just as the legates reached it,[357] leaving strict orders
that the ports should be closed to all clerks and papal envoys, and
that no one should dare to follow him without special permission.[358]
Landing at Portsmouth in the first days of August,[359] he hurried
to Winchester for a last interview with the dying Bishop Henry,[360]
closed the English ports as he had closed those of Normandy,[361] then
plunged once more into the depths of South Wales, and on October 16
sailed from Milford Haven for Waterford.[362]
[351] R. Diceto (as above), p. 345. _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol.
i. p. 14.
[352] Ep. dccxxxviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii.), p. 438.
Cf. MS. Lansdown. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 159, 160, and _Gesta
Hen._ as above.
[353] Epp. dccl., dccli. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii. pp.
471–478).
[354] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 233. R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 346. _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 24.
[355] Rob. Torigni, a. 1171. Conan died February 20; Chron.
Kemperleg. _ad ann._ (_Rer. Gall. Scriptt._, vol. xii. p. 563).
The Chron. S. Serg. a. 1169 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 150),
places the event two years too early. Cf. Chron. Britann. a.
1170, 1171 (_Rer. Gall. Scriptt._, vol. xii. p. 560; Morice,
_Hist. Bretagne, preuves_, vol. i. col. 104).
[356] Rob. Torigni, a. 1171.
[357] MS. Lansdown. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 169.
Gerv. Cant. (as above), pp. 233, 234. The _Gesta Hen._ (as
above), and Rog. Howden (Stubbs, vol. ii. pp. 28, 29) seem to
imply that they arrived just before Henry left; but they are
rather confused about these legates. They make two pairs of
them come to Normandy this summer--first, Vivian and Gratian,
who come with hostile intent, and from whom Henry runs away
(_Gesta Hen._, Stubbs, vol. i. p. 24; Rog. Howden, Stubbs, vol.
ii. p. 29); and secondly, Albert and Theodwine, who apparently
supersede them later in the year, and whom Henry hurries to
meet (_Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 29; Rog. Howden as above, p.
34). But the MS. Lansdown. (which is the fullest account of
all), Gerv. Cant. and R. Diceto distinctly make only one pair
of legates, Albert and Theodwine. The confusion in _Thomas
Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. ii. pp. 31–33, is greater still.
[358] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 24. Cf. Rog. Howden (as
above), p. 29.
[359] _Gesta Hen._ as above, and Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i.
p. 234, say August 3; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 347, says
August 6.
[360] R. Diceto as above. Bishop Henry died on August 8; _ibid._
[361] Gerv. Cant., _Gesta Hen._ and Rog. Howden, as above.
[362] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 25.
The elements favoured his escape; for five months a persistent contrary
wind hindered all communication to Ireland from any part of his
dominions.[363] The bishops and the ministers were left to fight their
own battles and make their own peace with the legates in Normandy until
May 1172, when the king suddenly reappeared[364] to claim the papal
absolution and offer in return not only his own spiritual obedience and
that of his English and continental realms, but also that of Ireland,
which he had secured for Rome as her share in the spoils of a conquest
won with Adrian’s bull in his hand.[365] The bargain was soon struck.
On Sunday May 21 Henry met the legates at Avranches, made his purgation
for the primate’s death, promised the required expiation, and abjured
his obnoxious “customs,” his eldest son joining in the abjuration.[366]
To pacify Louis, young Henry and Margaret were sent over sea with the
archbishop of Rouen and by him crowned together at Winchester on August
27;[367] and the Norman primate returned to join a great council of the
Norman clergy assembled at Avranches to witness there, two days before
Michaelmas, a public repetition of their sovereign’s purgation and his
final absolution by the legates.[368]
[363] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 350. Gir. Cambr., _Expugn.
Hibern._, l. i. c. 36 (Dimock, vol. v. p. 284).
[364] R. Diceto (as above), p. 351.
[365] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 28.
[366] Ep. dcclxxi.–dcclxxiv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii.
pp. 513–522). MS. Lansdown. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 173, 174.
[367] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 31; Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 34; Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 237. R. Diceto
(as above), p. 352, makes it August 21.
[368] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), pp. 32, 33. Rog. Howden (as
above), pp. 35–37. Gerv. Cant. (as above), p. 238. These three
are the only writers who mention this purgation in September,
and they say nothing of the one in May. That it took place is
however clear from the letter of the legates themselves (Ep.
dcclxxiv. Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii. p. 521), giving its
date, “_Vocem jucunditatis_,” _i.e._ Rogation-Sunday. On the
other hand, the MS. Lansdown. (_ib._ vol. iv. pp. 173, 174)
mentions only one purgation, and this clearly is the earlier
one, for it is placed before the re-crowning of young Henry.
The explanation seems to be that this was a private ceremony
between the king and the legates, with a few chosen witnesses;
the legates say in their letter that Henry promised to repeat
it publicly at Caen; he probably did so at Avranches instead.
On the other hand, Rob. Torigni (a. 1172) says: “Locutus est
cum eis primo Savigneii, postea Abrincis, tercio Cadomi, ubi
causa illa finita est;” and seems to make the Michaelmas
council at Avranches a mere ordinary Church synod, where
moreover “obsistente regis infirmitate parum profecerunt.” To
add to the confusion, Gir. Cambr. (_Expugn. Hibern._, l. i.
c. 39; Dimock, vol. v. p. 289) says the purgation was made at
Coutances.
CHAPTER III.
THE CONQUEST OF IRELAND.
795–1172.
[Illustration: Map III.
IRELAND A. D. 1172.
_Ostmen’s settlements marked thus: Dublin._
Wagner & Debes’ Geogˡ. Estabᵗ. Leipsic. London, Macmillan & Co.
]
It is in the history of the settlements formed on the Irish coast by
the northern pirates in the ninth century that we must seek for the
origin of those relations between England and Ireland which led to
an English invasion of the latter country in the reign of Henry II.
The earliest intercourse between the two islands had been of a wholly
peaceful character; but it had come utterly to an end when Bishop
Colman of Lindisfarne sailed back to his old home at Iona after the
synod of Whitby in 664. From the hour when her missionary work was
done, Ireland sank more and more into the isolation which was a natural
consequence of her geographical position, and from which she was
only roused at the opening of the ninth century by the coming of the
wikings. In the early days of the northmen’s attack upon the British
isles it was the tradition of Ireland’s material prosperity and wealth,
and the fame of the treasures stored in her religious houses, that
chiefly tempted the “white strangers” from the Norwegian fiords across
the unknown perils of the western sea; and the settlement of Thorgils
in Ulster and those of his fellow-wikings along the eastern and
southern coasts of Ireland formed a chief basis for the operations of
the northmen upon Britain itself. The desperate fighting of the Irish
succeeded in freeing Ulster after Thorgils’s death; but by the middle
of the ninth century the wikings were firmly established at four points
on the Irish coast, Dublin, Waterford, Cork and Limerick.[369]
Under the leadership of Olaf the Fair, Dublin became the head of a
confederacy which served as a starting-point and furnished a constant
supply of forces for the Danish conquests in England;[370] and for
a hundred years afterwards, throughout the struggle of the house of
Ælfred for the recovery of the Danelaw, the support given by the Ostmen
or wikings of Ireland to their brethren across the channel was at once
the main strength of the Northumbrian Danes and the standing difficulty
of the English kings.[371]
[369] On Thorgils and the wiking settlements in Ireland see
_Wars of the Gaedhil with the Gaill_ (Todd), and Green,
_Conquest of England_, pp. 66, 67, 74, 76.
[370] Green, _Conquest of England_, pp. 90, 91, 107.
[371] _Ib._ pp. 213, 242, 252–254, 270–272.
To Ireland itself the results of the wiking invasions were far more
disastrous than either to Britain or to Gaul. Owing to the peculiar
physical character of their country, to their geographical remoteness
from the rest of Europe, and to the political and social isolation
which was a consequence of these, the Irish people had never advanced
beyond the primitive tribal mode of life which had once been common to
the whole Aryan race, but which every European branch of that race,
except the Irish, had long since outgrown. In the time of Ecgberht and
of Charles the Great Ireland was still, as at the very dawn of history,
peopled by a number of separate tribes or septs whose sole bond of
internal cohesion was formed by community of blood;--whose social and
political institutions had remained purely patriarchal in character,
unaffected by local and external influences such as had helped to mould
the life of England or of Gaul:--who had never yet coalesced into any
definite territorial organization, far less risen into national unity
under a national sovereign. The provincial kings of Ulster, Connaught,
Leinster and Munster were merely the foremost chieftains among the
various groups of tribes over whom they exercised an ever-shifting
sway; while the supremacy of the _Ard-Righ_ or chief monarch, to whom
in theory was assigned the overlordship of the whole island, was
practically little more than a sort of honorary pre-eminence attached
to certain chosen descendants of an early hero-king, Niall “of the
Nine Hostages”; it carried with it little effective authority, and no
territorial power; for the monarch’s traditional seat at Tara had long
been a heap of ruins, and a tribal under-king had ousted him from the
plain of Meath which in legal theory formed his royal domain.[372]
Neither in the monarch himself nor in the provincial chieftains of
a state thus constituted could there be found, when the storm-cloud
from the north burst upon Ireland, a centre of unity even such as the
peoples of Gaul found in their Karolingian sovereigns, far less such
as the West-Franks found in the dukes of the French, or such as the
English found in their kings of the house of Ecgberht. The stress of
the northmen’s attack, which elsewhere gave a fresh impulse to the
upgrowth of national life, crushed out all hope of its developement
in Ireland. The learning and the civilization of ages perished when
Columba’s Bangor, Bridget’s Kildare, Ciaran’s Clonmacnoise, Patrick’s
own Armagh, shared the fate of Bæda’s Jarrow and Hild’s Streoneshealh,
of Cuthbert’s Melrose and Aidan’s Lindisfarne; and in Ireland there was
no Wessex and no Ælfred.
[372] Maine, _Early Hist. of Institutions_, lect. i.–x.;
O’Donovan, Introd. to _Book of Rights_; Lynch, _Cambrensis
Eversus_, with Mr. Kelly’s notes; O’Donovan, notes to Four
Masters, vols. i. and ii.
On the other hand, the concentration of the wiking forces upon Britain
had given to the Irish an advantage which enabled them to check the
spread of wiking settlements in their country; and the failure of all
attempts to establish a Scandinavian dominion in Britain destroyed
all chance of a Scandinavian conquest of Ireland. The Ostmen never
even gained such a footing in Ireland as the followers of Hrolf
gained in Frankland: their presence never received the sanction of
any Ard-Righ; they were not a compact body occupying the whole of an
extensive and well-defined territory, but a number of separate groups
settled here and there along the coast, and holding their ground
only by sheer hard fighting against a ring of implacable foes. The
long struggle may be said to have ended in a defeat of both parties.
The Irish kings of Munster succeeded in establishing a more or
less effective overlordship over the Scandinavian communities of
Limerick and Waterford; and in 989 Malachi II., supreme monarch of
Ireland, reaped his reward for nine years of desperate fighting in
the submission of the Ostmen of Dublin. The city was blockaded and
starved into surrender, and a yearly tribute was promised to Malachi
and his successors.[373] Six years later “the ring of Tomar and the
sword of Carl”--two heathen relics probably of ancient heroes, which
seem to have been treasured as sacred emblems of sovereignty by the
Ostmen[374]--were carried off by Malachi as trophies of another
victory;[375] and in 999 or 1000 a renewal of the strife ended in a
rout of the Ostmen and a great slaughter of their leaders, and Dublin
was sacked and burnt by the victorious Irish.[376]
[373] Tighernach, a. 989 (O’Conor, _Rer. Hibern. Scriptt._,
vol. ii. pp. 264, 265).
[374] See O’Donovan’s introduction to the _Book of Rights_, pp.
xxxviii, xxxix.
[375] Tighernach, a. 995 (as above, p. 267).
[376] _Ib._ a. 998, 999 (p. 268). _Wars of Gaedhil with Gaill_
(Todd), pp. 109–117.
Malachi’s triumph, however, was gained at the cost of a disruption of
the monarchy. Malachi himself was displaced by a king of the rival
house of Munster, his colleague in the sack of Dublin, the famous Brian
Boroimhe;[377] Brian’s career of conquest ended in 1014 on the field
of Clontarf, where he was slain in battle with the men of Leinster and
the Ostmen;[378] and when Malachi, who now resumed his place, died
in 1022,[379] the downfall of the Irish monarchy was complete.[380]
The tradition which had so long linked it to the house of Niall had
been shattered by Brian’s successes; and Brian had not lived to
consolidate in his own house the forces which had begun to gather
around himself. Thenceforth the Scandinavian colonies simply furnished
an additional element to the strife of the Irish chieftains, and to
the rivalry between the O’Briens of Munster and the O’Neills of Ulster
for the possession of a shadowy supremacy, claimed by the one house as
descendants of Brian Boroimhe and by the other as heirs of Malachi II.
and of his great ancestor Niall.
[377] Tighernach, a. 1000, 1001 (as above, pp. 269, 270). _Wars
of Gaedhil with Gaill_ (Todd), p. 119. Brian’s victory was won
by the help of the Ostmen, with whom he stooped to ally himself
for the sake of overcoming his rival; but the alliance was only
momentary. On Brian’s reign see _Wars of Gaedhil with Gaill_,
pp. 119–155.
[378] _Wars of Gaedhil with Gaill_ (Todd), pp. 155–211. Four
Masters, a. 1013 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. pp. 773–781). Ann. Loch
Cé, a. 1014 (Hennessy, vol. i. pp. 1–13).
[379] Tighernach, a. 1022 (as above, p. 274). Four Masters, a.
1022 (as above, p. 800). Ann. Loch Cé, a. 1022 (as above, p.
23).
[380] “From the death of Maelseachlainn II. the legitimate
monarchy of all Ireland departed from all families during
seventy-two years, until the joint reigns of Muircheartach
O’Briain and Domhnall MacLochlainn; during that time no Feis
or general assembly, so agreeable to the people, was held,
because Ireland had no supreme king.” Quoted by Mr. Kelly, note
to _Cambrensis Eversus_, vol. ii. p. 38, from Gilla-Modud, an
Irish poet of the twelfth century.
The social and political system of Ireland was powerless either to
expel or to absorb the foreign element thus introduced within its
borders. Not only was such an union of the two peoples as had at last
been effected in England simply impossible in Ireland; the Irish
Danelaw was parted from its Celtic surroundings by barriers of race and
speech, of law and custom and institutions, far more insuperable than
those which parted the settlers in the “northman’s land” at the mouth
of Seine from their West-Frankish neighbours. Even the Irish Church,
which three hundred years before had won half England--one might add
half Europe--to the Faith, had as yet failed to convert these pagans
seated at her door. At the close of the tenth century the Ostmen were
still for the most part heathens in fact if not in name, aliens from
whatever culture or civilization might still remain in the nation
around them. Meanwhile their relations with England had wholly altered
in character. The final submission of the English Danelaw to Eadred
carried with it the alliance of the Irish Danelaw; it seems that the
Ostmen in their turn endeavoured to strengthen themselves against
the attacks of the Irish princes by securing a good understanding
with the English king, if not actually by putting themselves under
his protection; for the fact that Eadgar coined money in Dublin[381]
indicates that his authority must have been in some way or other
acknowledged there. The years of the Ostmen’s struggle with Malachi
and Brian Boroimhe were the years of England’s struggle with Swein
and Cnut; but the two strifes seem to have been wholly unconnected;
and throughout the long peace which lasted from Cnut’s final triumph
until the coming of the Normans, new ties sprang up between the
Ostmen and the sister-isle. Owing to their position on the sea-coast
and to the spirit of merchant enterprise which was, quite as much
as the spirit of military enterprise, a part of the wiking-heritage
of their inhabitants, the towns of the Irish Danelaw rose fast into
importance as seats of a flourishing trade with northern Europe, and
above all with England through its chief seaports in the west, Bristol
and Chester. The traffic was chiefly in slaves, bought or kidnapped
in England to be sold to the merchants of Dublin or Waterford, and
by these again to their Irish neighbours or to traders from yet more
distant lands.[382] Horrible as this traffic was, however, even while
filling the Irish coast-towns with English slaves it helped to foster
a more frequent intercourse and a closer relation between Ostmen and
Englishmen; and the shelter and aid given to Harold and Leofwine in
1151 by Dermot Mac-Maelnambo,[383] a prince of the royal house of
Leinster who had acquired the sovereignty over both Leinstermen and
Danes, shews that the political alliance established in Eadgar’s day
had been carefully renewed by Godwine.
[381] Green, _Conquest of England_, p. 323.
[382] Green, _Conquest of England_, pp. 440, 443, 444.
[383] See Freeman, _Norm. Conq._, vol. ii. pp. 154.
To these commercial and political relations was added soon afterwards
an ecclesiastical tie. The conversion of the Ostmen to Christianity,
completed in the early years of the eleventh century, was probably due
to intercourse with their Christianized brethren in England rather than
to the influence of the Irish clergy, whose very speech was strange
to them; and their adoption of their neighbours’ creed, instead of
drawing together the hostile races, soon introduced a fresh element
into their strife. About the year 1040 the Ostmen of Dublin set up a
bishopric of their own. Their first bishop, Donatus, was probably Irish
by consecration if not by birth.[384] But when he died, in 1074,[385]
the Ostmen turned instinctively towards the neighbouring island with
which they had long been on peaceful terms, where the fruits of the
warfare waged by generation after generation of wikings upon the shores
of Britain were being reaped at last by Norman hands, where William of
Normandy was entering upon the inheritance alike of Ælfred and of Cnut,
and where Lanfranc was infusing a new spirit of discipline and activity
into the Church of Odo and Dunstan. The last wiking-fleet that ever
sailed from Dublin to attack the English coast--a fleet which Dermot
Mac-Maelnambo, true to his alliance with their father, had furnished
to the sons of Harold--had been beaten back six years before.[386]
Since then Dermot himself was dead;[387] the Ostmen were once more
free, subject to no ruler save one of their own choice and their own
blood; with the consent of their king, Godred,[388] they chose a priest
named Patrick to fill Donatus’s place, and sent him to be consecrated
in England by the archbishop of Canterbury.[389] No scruples about
infringing the rights of the Irish bishops were likely to make Lanfranc
withhold his hand. At the very moment when the Ostmen’s request
reached him, he had just been putting forth against the archbishop
of York a claim to metropolitical jurisdiction over the whole of
the British isles, founded on the words of S. Gregory committing
“all the bishops of the Britains” to S. Augustine’s charge.[390] He
therefore gladly welcomed an opportunity of securing for the authority
of his see a footing in the neighbour-isle. He consecrated Patrick
of Dublin and received his profession of obedience;[391] and for the
next seventy-eight years the bishops of Dublin were suffragans not of
Armagh but of Canterbury. When in 1096 the Ostmen of Waterford also
chose for themselves a bishop, they too sought him beyond the sea; an
Irishman, or more probably an Ostman by birth, a monk of Winchester
by profession, Malchus by name, he was consecrated by S. Anselm and
professed obedience to him as metropolitan.[392]
[384] That is, he was certainly not consecrated in England;
Lanigan, _Eccles. Hist. Ireland_, vol. iii. pp. 433–436. But
might he not have been consecrated by some of the bishops in
Scotland and the Isles, with which the Ostmen were in constant
intercourse and alliance?
[385] Tighernach, a. 1074 (O’Conor, _Rer. Hibern. Scriptt._),
vol. ii. p. 309. Four Masters, a. 1074 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p.
907).
[386] Eng. Chron. (Worc.) a. 1067, 1068; Flor. Worc. (Thorpe),
vol. ii. p. 2; Ord. Vit. (Duchesne, _Hist. Norm. Scriptt._),
p. 513; Will. Jumièges, l. vii. c. 41 (_ib._ p. 290); Freeman,
_Norm. Conq._, vol. iv. pp. 225–227, 243–245, 788–790.
[387] He fell in battle with the king of Meath in 1072,
according to the Four Masters _ad ann._ (O’Donovan, vol. ii.
pp. 901–903), and the Ann. Loch Cé (Hennessy, vol. i. p. 67).
The Chron. Scot. (Hennessy, p. 291) places his death in 1069;
Mr. Freeman (as above, p. 245) adopts this date.
[388] At the time of Donatus’s appointment in 1040, one Sihtric
ruled in Dublin (see Lanigan, _Eccles. Hist. Ireland_, vol.
iii. pp. 434, 435)--doubtless under the overlordship of Dermot.
On Dermot’s death the Ostmen flung off the Irish supremacy and
took for their king, first a jarl named Godred, who died in
1072, and then another of the same name, who seems to have been
already king of Man. (Freeman, as above, p. 528 and note 5).
Lanfranc addresses this Godred as “King of Ireland” (Lanfranc,
Ep. 43, Giles, vol. i. p. 61); and no other prince is mentioned
in connexion with Patrick’s consecration. But it is plain
from Lanfranc’s correspondence, if from nothing else, that
Terence O’Brien was acknowledged overlord of Dublin for some
time before his death (see Lanfranc, Ep. 44, _ib._ p. 62; and
Lanigan, as above, p. 474 _et seq._); and he died in 1086.
[389] Lanfranc, Ep. 43 (as above, p. 61). Eng. Chron. Winch.,
Appendix (Thorpe, vol. i. p. 387). Cf. Lanigan, as above, pp.
457, 458.
[390] Lanigan, _Eccles. Hist. Ireland_, vol. iii. pp. 464–466.
[391] _Ib._ p. 458. Eng. Chron. Winch., Appendix (Thorpe, vol.
i. p. 387).
[392] Eadmer, _Hist. Nov._ (Rule), pp. 76, 77. Cf. Lanigan, as
above, vol. iv. pp. 15, 16.
Through the medium of these Irish suffragans the archbishops of
Canterbury endeavoured to gain a hold upon the Irish Church by
cultivating the friendship of the different Irish princes who from time
to time succeeded in winning from the Ostmen an acknowledgement of
their overlordship. In the struggles of the provincial kings for the
supreme monarchy of Ireland it was always the Ostmen who turned the
scale; their submission was the real test of sovereignty. The power
which had been wielded by Dermot Mac-Maelnambo passed after his death
first to Terence or Turlogh O’Brien, king of Munster,[393] a grandson
of Brian Boroimhe, and then to Terence’s son Murtogh.[394] Both were
in correspondence with the successive English primates, Lanfranc and
Anselm,[395] and both were recognized as protectors and patrons, in
ecclesiastical matters at least, by the Ostmen,[396] whose adherence
during these years enabled the O’Briens to hold their ground against
the advancing power of Donnell O’Lochlainn, king of Aileach or western
Ulster,[397] a representative of the old royal house of the O’Neills
which had fallen with Malachi II. On Murtogh’s death in 1119[398] a new
aspirant to the monarchy appeared in the person of the young king of
Connaught, Terence or Turlogh O’Conor. A year before, Terence had won
the submission of the Ostmen of Dublin;[399] in 1120 he celebrated the
fair of Telltown,[400] a special prerogative of the Irish monarchs;
and from the death of Donnell O’Lochlainn next year[401] Terence
was undisputed monarch till 1127, when a joint rising of Ostmen and
Leinstermen enabled both to throw off his yoke.[402] Meanwhile Murtogh
O’Lochlainn, a grandson of Donnell, was again building up a formidable
power in Ulster; at last, in 1150, all the provincial kings, including
Terence, gave him hostages for peace;[403] and Terence’s throne seems
to have been only saved by a sudden change in the policy of the Ostmen,
whose independent action enabled them for a moment to hold the balance
and act as arbitrators between northern and southern Ireland.[404] Four
years later, however, they accepted Murtogh as their king,[405] and two
years later still he was left sole monarch by the death of Terence
O’Conor.[406]
[393] Four Masters, a. 1073–1086 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. pp.
905–927).
[394] _Ib._ a. 1087–1119 (pp. 929–1009).
[395] Lanfranc, Ep. 44 (Giles, vol. i. pp. 62–64); Anselm, Epp.
l. iii., Epp. cxlii., cxlvii. (Migne, _Patrol._, vol. clix.,
cols. 173, 174, 178–180); Lanigan, as above, vol. iii. pp. 474
_et seq._, vol. iv. pp. 15, 19, 20.
[396] Samuel of Dublin in 1095 and Malchus of Waterford in 1096
were both elected under Murtogh’s sanction and sent to England
for consecration with letters of commendation from him. Eadmer,
_Hist. Nov._ (Rule), pp. 73–76; Lanigan, as above, vol. iv. pp.
12–15.
[397] Four Masters, a. 1083–1119 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. pp.
921–1009). Cf. Ann. Loch Cé, a. 1083–1119 (Hennessy, vol. i.
pp. 73–111).
[398] Four Masters, a. 1119 (as above, p. 1009). Ann. Loch. Cé,
a. 1119 (as above, p. 111).
[399] Lanigan, _Eccles. Hist. Ireland_, vol. iv. p. 48, says:
“The Annals of Innisfallen have at _A._ 1118, ‘Turlogh O’Conor
became king of the Danes of Dublin.’” (This passage does not
occur in either of the two editions of Ann. Inisfal. printed
by O’Conor.) The Four Masters, a. 1118 (as above, p. 1007),
say that Terence took hostages from the Ostmen in that year.
He was, at any rate, acknowledged as their overlord by 1121,
for it was he who in that year sent Gregory, bishop-elect of
Dublin, to England for consecration. Lanigan, as above, p. 47.
[400] Four Masters _ad ann._ (as above, p. 1011).
[401] _Ib._ a. 1121 (p. 1013). Ann. Loch Cé, a. 1121 (as above,
p. 113).
[402] Ann Loch Cé, a. 1127 (p. 123).
[403] Four Masters, a. 1150 (as above, p. 1093).
[404] Something of this kind must be meant by the phrase of the
Four Masters (_ib._ p. 1095): “The foreigners made a year’s
peace between Leath-Chuinn and Leath-Mhogha.” This is in
1150, after Murtogh’s appearance as “King of Ireland” and the
Ostmen’s submission to Terence (II.) O’Brien, whom his namesake
of Connaught had set up as king in Munster.
[405] Four Masters, a. 1154 (as above, p. 1113).
[406] Four Masters, a. 1156 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1119).
The anarchy of the Irish state was reflected in that of the Church. If
Lanfranc, when he consecrated Patrick of Dublin, knew anything at all
of the ecclesiastical condition of Ireland, he may well have thought
that it stood in far greater need of his reforming care than England
itself. The Irish Church had never felt the organizing hand of a
Theodore; its diocesan and parochial system was quite undeveloped; it
had in fact scarcely advanced beyond the primitive missionary stage.
Six centuries after S. Patrick’s death, the Irish clergy were still
nothing but a band of mission-priests scattered over the country or
gathered together in vast monastic establishments like Bangor or Durrow
or Clonmacnoise; the bishops were for the most part merely heads of
ever-shifting mission-stations, to whose number there was no limit;
destitute of political rank, they were almost equally destitute of
ecclesiastical authority, and differed from the ordinary priesthood by
little else than their power of ordination. At the head of the whole
hierarchy stood, as successor and representative of S. Patrick, the
archbishop of Armagh. But since the death of Archbishop Maelbrigid
in 927 the see of Armagh had been in the hands of a family of local
chieftains who occupied its estate, usurped its revenues, handed on
its title from father to son, and were bishops only in name.[407]
The inferior members of the ecclesiastical body could not escape the
evil which paralyzed their head. The bishops and priests of the Irish
Church furnished a long roll of names to the catalogue of saints; but
they contributed little or nothing to the political developement of
the nation, and scarcely more to its social developement. The growth
of a class of lay-impropriators ousted them from the management and
the revenues of their church-lands, reduced them to subsist almost
wholly upon the fees which they received for the performance of their
spiritual functions, stripped them of all political influence, and
left them dependent solely upon their spiritual powers and their
personal holiness for whatever share of social influence they might
still contrive to retain.[408] The Irish Church, in fact, while
stedfastly adhering in doctrinal matters to the rest of the Latin
Church, had fallen far behind it in discipline; to the monastic reforms
of the tenth century, to the struggle for clerical celibacy and for
freedom of investiture in the eleventh, she had remained an utter
stranger. The long-continued stress of the northern invasions had cut
off the lonely island in the west from all intercourse with the world
at large, so completely that even the tie which bound her to Rome had
sunk into a mere vague tradition of spiritual loyalty, and Rome herself
knew nothing of the actual condition of a Church which had once been
her most illustrious daughter.
[407] S. Bernard, _Vita S. Malach._, c. 10 (Mabillon, vol. i.
col. 667). Cf. Lanigan, _Eccles. Hist. Ireland_, vol. iii. p.
382.
[408] On these lay impropriators, “comorbas” and “erenachs,”
see Lanigan, _Eccles. Hist. Ireland_, vol. iv. pp. 79–86.
But it was the northmen, too, who were now to become the means of
knitting up again the ties which had been severed by their fathers’
swords. The state of things in Ireland, as reported to Canterbury from
Dublin and Waterford, might well seem to reforming churchmen like
Lanfranc and Anselm too grievous to be endured. Lanfranc had urged
upon Terence O’Brien the removal of two of its worst scandals, the
neglect of canonical restraints upon marriage and the existence of a
crowd of titular bishops without fixed sees;[409] Anselm used all his
influence with Murtogh O’Brien for the same end;[410] at last, finding
his efforts unavailing, he seems to have laid his complaints before
the Pope. The result was that, for the first time, a papal legate was
appointed for Ireland. The person chosen was Gilbert, who some two or
three years before Anselm’s death became the first bishop of the Ostmen
of Limerick. Gilbert seems, like the first Donatus of Dublin, to have
been himself an Irish prelate; he lost no time, however, in putting
himself in communication with Canterbury,[411] and displayed an almost
exaggerated zeal for the Roman discipline and ritual.[412] In 1118 he
presided over a synod held at Rathbreasil, where an attempt was made
to map out the dioceses of Ireland on a definite plan.[413] Little,
however, could be done till the metropolitan see was delivered from the
usurpers who had so long held it in bondage; and it was not until 1134
that the evil tradition was broken by the election of S. Malachi.
[409] Lanfranc, Ep. 44 (Giles, vol. i. p. 63).
[410] Anselm, Epp. l. iii., Epp. cxlii., cxlvii. (Migne,
_Patrol._, vol. clix., cols. 173, 174, 178–180).
[411] On Gilbert’s relations with Anselm see Lanigan, _Eccles.
Hist. Ireland_, vol. iv. pp. 23–26.
[412] _Ib._ pp. 26–29.
[413] _Ib._ pp. 38, 40–43.
Malachi was the wisest and most enlightened as well as the most
saintly Irish prelate of his time; he had already been labouring for
nearly ten years at the reform of the diocese of Connor; in that of
Armagh itself he had earlier still, as vicar to Archbishop Celsus,
laid the foundations of a similar work which he now took up again as
primate.[414] After a successful pontificate of three years he again
retired to the humbler position of a diocesan bishop at Down;[415]
but he still continued to watch over the interests of the whole Irish
Church; and in 1139 he went to Rome specially to lay its necessities
before the Pope, and if possible to obtain from him the gift of a
pallium for the archbishop of Armagh, and another for the bishop of
Cashel as metropolitan of southern Ireland.[416] The pallium was now
generally regarded as an indispensable note of metropolitical rank,
but it had never been possessed by the successors of S. Patrick.[417]
Innocent II. refused to grant it save at the request of the Irish
clergy and people in council assembled; he sanctioned, however, the
recognition of Cashel as metropolis of southern Ireland, and moreover
he transferred to Malachi himself the legatine commission which Gilbert
of Limerick had just resigned.[418] Gilbert seems to have died shortly
afterwards: his successor in the see of Limerick went to Theobald of
Canterbury for consecration; but his profession of obedience was the
last ever made by an Irish bishop to an English metropolitan.[419] In
1148 a synod held at Inispatrick by Archbishop Gelasius of Armagh,
with Malachi as papal legate, decided upon sending Malachi himself
to the Pope once more, charged with a formal request for the two
palls, in the name of the whole Irish Church. Malachi died on the
way, at Clairvaux;[420] but he left his commission in safe hands.
Nine years before, when on his first journey to Rome he had passed
through the “bright valley,” its abbot had recognized in him a kindred
spirit.[421] From that moment S. Bernard’s care of all the churches
extended itself even to the far-off Church of Ireland; and if it was
not he who actually forwarded his dying friend’s petition to Eugene
III., there can be little doubt that Eugene’s favourable reception of
it was chiefly owing to his influence. The result was the mission of
John Paparo as special legate to Ireland. Stephen’s refusal to let
John pass through his dominions caused another year’s delay;[422] but
at the close of 1151 John made his way through Scotland safe to his
destination.[423] In March 1152 he held a synod at Kells, in which
the diocesan and provincial system of the Irish Church was organized
upon lines which remained unaltered till the sixteenth century. The
episcopal sees were definitely fixed, and grouped under not two but
four archbishoprics. The primacy of all Ireland, with metropolitical
authority over Ulster and Meath, was assigned to Armagh; Tuam became
the metropolis of Connaught, Cashel of Munster; while the rivalry
of Armagh and Canterbury for the spiritual obedience of the Ostmen
was settled by the grant of a fourth pallium, with metropolitical
jurisdiction over the whole of Leinster, to Bishop Gregory of Dublin
himself.[424]
[414] For S. Malachi see his _Life_ by S. Bernard, and Lanigan,
as above, pp. 59 _et seq._
[415] S. Bern., _Vita S. Malach._, c. 14 (Mabillon, vol. i.
cols. 671–672).
[416] _Ib._ c. 15 (col. 672).
[417] _Ibid._ Cf. Lanigan’s note, _Eccles. Hist. Ireland_, vol.
iv. pp. 110, 111.
[418] S. Bern., _Vita S. Malach._, c. 16 (as above, col. 674).
Lanigan, as above, p. 112.
[419] Lanigan, _Eccles. Hist. Ireland_, vol. iv. pp. 114, 115,
116.
[420] S. Bern., _Vita S. Malach._, cc. 30, 31 (Mabillon, vol.
i. cols. 687–692). Lanigan, as above, pp. 129, 130.
[421] S. Bern., _Vita S. Malach._, c. 16 (as above, cols. 673,
674).
[422] See above, vol. i. p. 380.
[423] Four Masters, a. 1151 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1095).
[424] On the synod of Kells see Four Masters, a. 1152 (as
above, p. 1101); Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 212; and
Lanigan, as above, pp. 139–151.
It is plain that Bernard and Eugene aimed at applying to Ireland’s
troubles the same remedy which they were at that very time applying to
those of England. They hoped to build up an united nation and a strong
national government on the basis of a free and united national Church.
But the foundation-stone of their work for Ireland was scarcely laid
at Kells when both the wise master-builders were called away. On the
other hand, their labours for England were crowned by the accession
of the young Angevin king, whose restless temper, before he had been
nine months on his throne, was already seeking for another sphere of
activity still further beyond the sea; overwhelming the newly-crowned,
English-born Pope with suggestions of work and offers of co-operation
in every quarter of Christendom,[425] and proposing to begin at once
with the reduction of Ireland to political, ecclesiastical and social
order after the pattern of England and Normandy.[426] Adrian IV. would
have needed a wisdom and a foresight greater than those of S. Bernard
himself to enable him to resist the attractions of such an offer. The
so-called “Donation of Constantine”--a donation which is now known
to be forged, but whose genuineness no one in Adrian’s day had ever
thought of doubting--vested the ultimate sovereignty of all islands
in the Papacy.[427] The best and greatest Popes, from S. Gregory down
to Adrian himself, seem to have interpreted this as making them in
a special way responsible for the welfare of such outlying portions
of Christendom, and bound to leave no means untried for providing
them with a secure and orderly Christian government.[428] The action
of Alexander II. in sanctioning the Norman conquest of England was
a logical outcome of this principle, applied, however unwisely or
unjustly, to a particular case. But there was infinitely greater
justification for applying the same principle, in the same manner, to
the case of Ireland. Neither the labours of S. Malachi, nor the brief
visit of John Paparo, nor the stringent decrees passed at the synod
of Kells, could suffice to reform the inveterate evils of Ireland’s
ecclesiastical system, the yet more inveterate evils of her political
system, or the intellectual and moral decay which was the unavoidable
consequence of both. On the Pope, according to the view of the time,
lay the responsibility of bringing order out of this chaos--a chaos of
whose very existence he had but just become fully conscious, and which
no doubt looked to him far more hopeless than it really was. In such
circumstances Henry’s proposal must have sounded to Adrian like an
offer to relieve him of a great weight of care--to cut at one stroke a
knot which he was powerless to untie--to clear a path for him through a
jungle-growth of difficulties which he himself saw no way to penetrate
or overcome. John of Salisbury set forth the plan at Rome, in Henry’s
name, in the summer of 1155; he carried back a bull which satisfied all
Henry’s demands. Adrian bade the king go forth to his conquest “for
the enlargement of the Church’s borders, for the restraint of vice,
the correction of morals and the planting of virtue, the increase of
the Christian religion, and whatsoever may tend to God’s glory and the
well-being of that land;”[429] and he sent with the bull a gold ring,
adorned with an emerald of great price, as a symbol of investiture with
the government of Ireland.[430]
[425] Pet. Blois, Ep. clxviii. (Giles, vol. ii. pp. 116–118).
See above, vol. i. p. 497.
[426] “Significâsti siquidem nobis, fili in Christo carissime,
te Hiberniæ insulam, ad subdendum illum populum legibus et
vitiorum plantaria inde exstirpanda, velle intrare; et de
singulis domibus annuam unius denarii beato Petro velle solvere
pensionem; et jura ecclesiarum illius terræ illibata et integra
conservare.” Bull of Adrian IV. to Henry (“Laudabiliter”), in
Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. ii. c. 5 (Dimock, vol. v. p.
317), etc.
[427] “Nam omnes insulæ, de jure antiquo, ex donatione
Constantini qui eam fundavit et dotavit, dicuntur ad Romanam
ecclesiam pertinere.” Joh. Salisb. _Metalog._, l. iv. c. 42
(Giles, vol. v. p. 206).
[428] “Sane Hiberniam et omnes insulas, quibus sol justitiæ
Christus illuxit, et quæ documenta fidei Christianæ ceperunt,
ad jus beati Petri et sacrosanctæ Romanæ ecclesiæ, quod tua
etiam nobilitas recognoscit, non est dubium pertinere. Unde
tanto in eis libentius plantationem fidelem et germen gratum
Deo inserimus quanto id a nobis interno examine districtius
prospicimus exigendum.” Bull “Laudabiliter,” Gir. Cambr.
_Expugn. Hibern._, l. ii. c. 5 (Dimock, vol. v. p. 317).
[429] Bull “Laudabiliter,” Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l.
ii. c. 5 (Dimock, vol. v. pp. 317, 318); R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. i. pp. 300, 301; Pet. Blois, Ep. ccxxxi. (Giles, vol.
ii. pp. 201, 202); Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 19; etc. Its
authenticity has been fiercely disputed, but is now admitted
by all Irish scholars. See proofs in Lanigan, _Eccles. Hist.
Ireland_, vol. iv. pp. 165, 166, and O’Callaghan’s edition of
_Macariæ Excidium_ (Irish Archæol. Soc.), pp. 242, 245, where
it is reprinted from Baronius’s copy, found by him in the
Vatican archives.
[430] Joh. Salisb. _Metalog._, l. iv. c. 42 (Giles, vol. v. p.
206).
This strange crusade was postponed for the moment, as we have seen,
in deference to objections made by the Empress Matilda.[431] Adrian’s
bull and ring were stored up in the English chancery, and there, long
after Adrian was dead, they still lay,[432] unused and, as it seemed,
forgotten amid an ever-increasing throng of more urgent cares and
labours which even Henry found to be quite as much as he was capable
of sustaining. At last, however, the course of political events in
Ireland itself took a turn which led almost irresistibly to a revival
of his long-forsaken project. Two years before Henry’s accession Dermot
Mac-Murrough, king of Leinster, had made a raid upon the district of
Breffny in Connaught, on the borders of Ulster and Meath, and carried
off Dervorgil, the wife of its chieftain Tighernan O’Ruark.[433] From
that hour Tighernan’s vengeance never slept. During the next fourteen
years, while Murtogh O’Lochlainn was striving for the mastery first
against the veteran Terence O’Conor and after Terence’s death with
his son Rory or Roderic, the swords of the men of Breffny were thrown
alternately into either scale, as their chieftain saw a hope of
securing the aid of either monarch to avenge him of his enemy.[434]
In 1166 the crisis came. Murtogh drew upon himself the wrath of his
people by blinding the king of Uladh, for whose safety he was pledged
to the archbishop of Armagh; Ulster, Meath, Leinster and Dublin rose
against him all at once; he was defeated and slain in a great battle at
the Fews; the Ostmen of Dublin acknowledged Roderic as their king, and
all the princes of southern Ireland followed their example. Dermot’s
submission, however, was in vain; the first act of the new monarch was
to banish him from the realm.[435] The Leinstermen forsook him at once,
for their loyalty had long been alienated by his harsh government and
evil deeds.[436] Left alone to the justice of Roderic and the vengeance
of O’Ruark, he fled to Cork and thence took ship to Bristol. Here he
found shelter for a while in the priory of S. Augustine, under the
protection of its founder Robert Fitz-Harding;[437] at the close of the
year he made his way to Normandy, and thence, with some difficulty,
tracked Henry’s restless movements into the depths of Aquitaine,[438]
where he at last laid his appeal for succour at the feet of the English
king.
[431] Rob. Torigni, a. 1155. See above, vol. i. p. 431.
[432] Joh. Salisb. _Metalog._, l. iv. c. 42 (Giles, vol. v. p.
206).
[433] Four Masters, a. 1152 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1103).
Cf. Gir. Cambr., _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 1 (Dimock, vol.
v. pp. 225, 226), and the elaborately romantic account in the
Anglo-Norman Poem on the Conquest of Ireland, edited by M.
Francisque Michel, pp. 2–6. The two last-named authorities
represent this affair as the _immediate_ cause of Dermot’s
overthrow, and of all the consequent troubles. Chronology shews
this to be mere romance; yet, notwithstanding the criticisms
of some modern writers, there still seems to be some ground
for the earlier view which looked upon Dervorgil as a sort
of Irish Helen. If we follow carefully the thread of the
story in the Four Masters from 1153 to 1166 we can hardly
avoid the conclusion that throughout those years the most
important personage in Irish politics, the man whose action
turned the scale in nearly all the ups and downs of fortune
between Murtogh of Ulster and the kings of Connaught, was the
border-chieftain whose position made him the most dangerous of
foes and the most indispensable of allies--Tighernan O’Ruark;
and we can hardly help seeing in Dermot’s banishment the
vengeance less of Roderic O’Conor himself than of a supporter
whom Roderic could not afford to leave unsatisfied. On the
other hand, it is perfectly true that the opportunity for
executing that vengeance was given by the disaffection of
Dermot’s own subjects--and, as usual, more especially by the
rising of the Ostmen of Dublin.
[434] See Four Masters, a. 1153–1166 (as above, pp. 1107–1159).
[435] Four Masters, a. 1166 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1159–1163).
[436] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 1 (Dimock, vol.
v. pp. 225, 226). For specimens of his misdeeds see Four
Masters, a. 1141 (as above, p. 1065), and Ann. Clonmacnoise, a.
1135 (_ib._ p. 1051, note _f_).
[437] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 12.
[438] “In remotis et transmarinis Aquitannicæ Galliæ partibus.”
Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 227). Henry was in Aquitaine from
December 1166 till May 1167; see Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, pp.
103–106. The chase which he characteristically led the Irish
king is amusingly described in the Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel),
p. 13:
“Bien est, seignurs, ke jo vus die Cum Dermod va par Normandie; Li rei
Henri va dunc quere, A munt, à val, avant, arere; Tant ad mandé et
enquis Que trové ad li rei Henris, A une cité l’ad trové, Que seignur
esteit clamé.”
On the last line the editor (notes, p. 168) remarks: “_Seignur_ (seigñ,
MS.)? Is it not: of which he was called lord?” One feels tempted to
suggest that it might be meant for the name of the place; but if so,
what can it be? Saintes?
At the crisis of his struggles with Thomas of Canterbury, with Louis
of France and with the rebel barons of Poitou, all that Henry could do
was to accept Dermot’s offer of homage and fealty,[439] promise to
send him help as soon as possible,[440] and furnish him with a letter
authorizing any loyal English, Norman, Welsh, Scottish or Angevin
subjects who might be so disposed to join the standard of the Irish
prince, as of a faithful vassal of their sovereign.[441] Another stay
of some weeks in Bristol[442] convinced Dermot that his best chance of
aid lay beyond the Severn. Wales was still in the main a Celtic land,
ruled in primeval Celtic fashion by native princes under little more
than nominal subjection to the king of England. The Norman conquest of
Wales, so far as Wales could be said to have been conquered at all,
had been effected not by the royal power but by the daring and prowess
of individual adventurers who did, indeed, seek the royal sanction for
their tenure of the lands which they had won, but who were scarcely
more amenable to the royal authority than their Welsh neighbours,
with whom they not unfrequently made common cause against it. It was
Robert of Bellême’s connexion with Wales, through his border-earldom
of Shrewsbury and his brother’s lordship of Pembroke, which had made
him so formidable to Henry I.; it was Robert of Gloucester’s tenure
of the great Welsh lordship of Glamorgan, even more than his English
honours, which had enabled him to act as an independent potentate
against Stephen. Another border-chieftain who played some part in the
civil war was Gilbert de Clare, whose father had received a grant of
Cardigan from Henry I. in 1107,[443] and upon whom Stephen in 1138
conferred the title of earl of Pembroke.[444] His son Richard appears
under the same title among the witnesses to Stephen’s proclamation
of the treaty of Wallingford in 1153;[445] the writers of the time,
however, usually describe him as earl of Striguil, a fortress which
seems to have occupied the site whence the ruins of Chepstow castle
now look down upon the Wye. His earldom of Pembroke, indeed, as one of
Stephen’s fictitious creations, must have been forfeited on Henry’s
accession; but the lord of Striguil was still a mighty man on the
South-Welsh border when in the spring of 1167 he promised to bring all
the forces which he could muster to aid in restoring Dermot, who in
return offered him his daughter’s hand, together with the succession to
his kingdom.[446] A promise of the town of Wexford and its adjoining
territory won a like assurance of aid from two half-brothers in whose
veins the blood of Norman adventurers was mingled with the ancient
royal blood of South-Wales: Maurice Fitz-Gerald, a son of Gerald
constable of Pembroke by his marriage with Nest, aunt of the reigning
prince Rees Ap-Griffith, and Robert Fitz-Stephen, son of the same Nest
by her second husband, Stephen constable of Cardigan.[447] Another
Pembrokeshire knight, Richard Fitz-Godoberd, volunteered to accompany
Dermot at once with a little band of Norman-Welsh followers.[448] With
these Dermot returned to Ireland in August 1167;[449] he was defeated
in a pitched battle with Roderic O’Conor and Tighernan O’Ruark;[450]
but in his own hereditary principality of Kinsellagh[451] he was safe;
there throughout the winter he lay hid at Ferns,[452] and thence, when
spring returned, he sent his bard Maurice Regan to claim from his Welsh
allies the fulfilment of their promises.[453]
[439] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 1 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 227). Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 15.
[440] Anglo-Norm. Poem, as above.
[441] Gir. Cambr. as above (pp. 227, 228).
[442] _Ib._ c. 2 (p. 228). He was at Bristol “quinzein u un
meins”; Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 16.
[443] _Brut y Tywys._, a. 1107 (Williams, p. 105).
[444] Ord. Vit. (Duchesne, _Hist. Norm. Scriptt._), p. 917.
[445] Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 18. Richard de Clare became
known to later generations by the nickname of “Strongbow.” Its
use is convenient, as helping to avoid confusion with the other
Richards of the period; but it seems to have no contemporary
authority. See Mr. Dimock’s note, _Gir. Cambr._, vol. v. p.
228, note 4.
[446] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 2 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 228). Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 17.
[447] Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 229). The circumstances
of Fitz-Stephen’s enlistment illustrate the condition of
South-Wales at this time. He had been cast into prison three
years before by his cousin Rees, and at the moment of Dermot’s
arrival had just been released on condition of joining Rees in
an attack upon England. His Norman blood, however, was loyal
enough to revolt against the fulfilment of the condition; and
Rees, who had warmly espoused Dermot’s interest, was persuaded
to allow its exchange for service in Ireland. _Ibid._; cf.
Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 19, 20. For pedigree of Nest’s
descendants see Mr. Dimock’s edition of _Gir. Cambr. Opp._,
vol. v. App. B. to pref., pp. c, ci.
[448] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 21.
[449] About August 1, according to Gir. Cambr. _Expugn.
Hibern._, l. i. c. 2 (Dimock, vol. v. p. 229).
[450] Four Masters, a. 1167 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. pp.
1165–1167). Among the slain they mention “the son of the king
of Britain, who was the battle-prop of the island of Britain,
who had come across the sea in the army of Mac Murchadha.” This
can only mean a son or brother of Rees; but neither Gerald
nor the Welsh chronicles make any mention of such a person in
Ireland.
[451] The modern county of Wexford, or rather the diocese of
Ferns. The Four Masters (as above, p. 1165) say that Dermot
“returned from England with a force of Galls, and he took the
kingdom of Ui-Ceinnsealaigh.”
[452] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 2 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 230).
[453] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 21.
In the first days of May[454] Robert Fitz-Stephen landed at Bannow,
between Wexford and Waterford, with thirty picked knights of his own
immediate following, and a body of auxiliaries to the number of sixty
men-at-arms and three hundred archers.[455] With him came three of
his nephews, Meiler Fitz-Henry, Miles Fitz-David[456] and Robert de
Barri;[457] and also a ruined knight called Hervey of Mountmorris,
uncle of Richard de Clare.[458] Next day an independent adventurer,
Maurice de Prendergast, arrived from Milford with ten more knights and
a band of archers.[459] Dermot himself came to meet them with some
five hundred Irishmen. The united force marched upon Wexford, and took
it in two days;[460] they then established their head-quarters at
Ferns,[461] and thence made an expedition into Ossory, whose chieftain
was specially hostile to Dermot. In spite of overwhelming odds, through
all the difficulties of an unknown country full of woods and marshes,
and traps laid against them by their skilful foes, the Norman-Welsh
knights and archers made their way into the heart of Ossory; and
a great battle ended in the rout of the Irish and the bringing of
two hundred heads to Dermot’s feet in his camp on the banks of the
Barrow.[462] A successful raid upon Offaly was followed by one upon
Glendalough, and a third upon Ossory again,[463] till in the following
year the state of affairs in Leinster had become threatening enough to
drive all the Irish princes and the Ostmen of Dublin into a confederacy
under Roderic O’Conor for the expulsion of the intruders.[464] Dermot
pledged himself to acknowledge Roderic as monarch of Ireland, and was
in his turn acknowledged by Roderic as king of Leinster on condition
that he should dismiss his foreign allies.[465] The agreement was
however scarcely made when Maurice Fitz-Gerald landed at Wexford with
some hundred and forty men;[466] these at once joined Dermot in an
expedition against Dublin, and harried the surrounding country till
the citizens were reduced to promise obedience.[467] Early in the next
year Dermot’s son-in-law Donell O’Brien, king of Limerick or Northern
Munster, succeeded by the help of Robert Fitz-Stephen in throwing off
the authority of Roderick O’Conor.[468] Encouraged by these successes,
Dermot now began to aspire in his turn to the monarchy of all
Ireland;[469] but his auxiliaries were numerically insufficient; and
the one from whom he had expected most had as yet failed to appear at
all.
[454] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 3 (as above). All
the later Irish historians, as well as Lord Lyttelton and Mr.
Dimock (_ib._ margin) date the arrival of Fitz-Stephen in May
1169. The reason apparently is that, as far as Dermot and his
English auxiliaries are concerned, the year 1168 is a blank in
the Four Masters, while under 1169 they say: “The fleet of the
Flemings came from England in the army of Mac Murchadha, _i.e._
Diarmaid, to contest the kingdom of Leinster for him; they were
seventy heroes clad in coats of mail.” But seeing that in the
following year, 1170, they for the first time mention Robert
Fitz-Stephen, and represent him as coming over with Richard
of Striguil (O’Donovan, vol. ii. pp. 1173–1175), it is by no
means evident that the foregoing entry has any reference to
him. It may just as well apply to Maurice Fitz-Gerald, who
certainly followed him after an interval of some months at
least. Gerald (as above, c. 2, p. 229) says that Fitz-Stephen
and Fitz-Gerald both promised, in the summer of 1167, to join
Dermot “cum zephyris et hirundine primâ.” Maurice undoubtedly
made a long delay; but there is not a word to shew that Robert
did otherwise than fulfil his engagement to the letter. Nay,
Gerald pointedly introduces him (_ib._ c. 3, p. 230) as “nec
promissionis immemor nec fidei contemptor.” He also tells
us (c. 2, _ibid._) that Dermot had _wintered_ at Ferns. Why
then are we to assume that by “wintered” he means “wintered,
summered, and wintered again”? What could Dermot possibly have
been doing there for more than twenty months?
[455] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 3 (p. 230). For account of
Fitz-Stephen himself see _ib._ c. 26 (pp. 271, 272).
[456] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 22. On Meiler see Gir.
Cambr. as above, l. ii. c. 9 (pp. 324, 325); and for pedigree,
Mr. Dimock’s App. B. to pref. (_ib._ pp. c., ci.).
[457] Gir. Cambr. as above, l. i. c. 3 (Dimock, vol. v. p.
232). Cf. App. B. to pref., _ib._ p. c.
[458] Gir. Cambr. as above, l. i. c. 3 (p. 230). See also l.
ii. c. 11 (pp. 327, 328).
[459] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 3 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 232).
[460] _Ibid._ (pp. 232, 233). Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp.
24, 25.
[461] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 25, 26.
[462] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 4 (p. 234). Cf. the long account
in Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 27–38.
[463] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 42–51.
[464] Roderic, in 1169, met the northern chieftains at Tara,
thence marched to Dublin, and afterwards proceeded into
Leinster; and Tighernan O’Ruark, Dermot king of Meath, and the
Ostmen of Dublin “went to meet the men of Munster, Leinster and
Osraigh” [Ossory], “and they set nothing by the Flemings.” Four
Masters, a. 1169 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1173).
[465] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 10 (p. 244).
[466] Ten knights, thirty “arcarii” or mounted archers, and
about a hundred “sagittarii pedestres.” _Ib._ c. 11 (pp. 244,
245).
[467] _Ibid._ (p. 245).
[468] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 11 (Dimock,
vol. v. p. 245). The date, 1170, comes from the Four Masters
(O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1175), who however do not mention
Fitz-Stephen’s share in the matter.
[469] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 12 (p. 246).
The history of Richard of Striguil is far from clear. From the number
of troops which eventually accompanied him to Ireland it is evident
that he had been during these two years actively preparing for his
expedition; and it may even be that the extent of his preparations
had drawn upon him the suspicions of King Henry. We only know that,
for some cause or other, he was now a ruined man; his lands were
forfeited to the Crown;[470] and he seems to have lingered on, absorbed
in a desperate effort to regain Henry’s favour, and clinging to his
lost home with a feeling that if he once turned his back upon it, he
would never be allowed to see it again. A letter from Dermot, telling
of the successes of his party in Leinster and renewing his former
offers, forced him into action.[471] He made a last appeal to the
king, intreating either for restoration of his lands or for the royal
license to go and repair his fortunes elsewhere. Henry ironically bade
him go, and he went.[472] On S. Bartholomew’s eve, 1170, he landed at
Waterford with twelve hundred men;[473] next day he was joined by
Raymond “the Fat,” a young warrior whom he had sent over three months
before[474] with ten knights and seventy archers, and who with this
small force had contrived to beat back an assault of three thousand
Irishmen of Decies and Ostmen of Waterford upon his camp of wattle and
thatch, hastily thrown up on the rocky promontory of Dundonulf.[475]
On August 25 Richard and Raymond attacked Waterford; three assaults in
one day carried both town and citadel;[476] seven hundred citizens were
slaughtered,[477] and the officers of the fortress, whose names tell
of northern blood, were made prisoners.[478] A few days later Richard
was married at Waterford to Dermot’s daughter Eva.[479] He then joined
his father-in-law in a circuitous march across the hills and through
Glendalough,[480] whereby they avoided a great host which Roderic had
gathered at Clondalkin to intercept them, and arrived in safety on S.
Matthew’s day beneath the walls of Dublin.[481] Dermot sent his bard
to demand the instant surrender of the town, with thirty hostages for
its fidelity. A dispute arose, probably between the Irish and Danish
inhabitants, as to the selection of the hostages;[482] Archbishop
Laurence was endeavouring to compose the difficulty,[483] and Hasculf
Thorgils’ son, a chieftain of northern blood who commanded the citadel,
had actually promised to surrender it on the morrow,[484] when a sudden
attack made by Raymond the Fat on one side and by a knight called
Miles Cogan on the other carried the town before the leaders of either
party knew what had happened.[485] A second rush won the citadel;
Hasculf escaped by sea and took refuge in the Orkneys;[486] Dublin was
sacked,[487] and left throughout the winter under the command of Miles
Cogan,[488] while Richard of Striguil was guarding Waterford against
the men of Munster,[489] and Dermot, from his old head-quarters at
Ferns,[490] was making raid after raid upon Meath and Breffny.[491]
[470] The cause of Richard’s disgrace seems to be nowhere
stated, except by William of Newburgh. He has (l. ii. c. 26;
Howlett, vol. i. pp. 167, 168), as usual, an independent
version of the whole affair. According to him, Richard’s
chief motive for going to Ireland was to escape from his
creditors, he being deep in debt; he went in defiance of an
express prohibition from Henry, and it was on hearing of his
victories--_i.e._ some time in the latter part of 1170--that
Henry confiscated his estates. Dugdale (_Baronage_, vol. i. p.
208) gives 1170 as the date of the forfeiture, on the authority
of a MS. in the Bodleian library. But this is irreconcileable
with the very circumstantial story of Gerald. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 234, dates the forfeiture three years
before Henry’s visit to Ireland, _i.e._ 1168.
[471] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 12 (as above, pp.
246, 247).
[472] _Ib._ cc. 12, 13 (pp. 247, 248). Cf. Gerv. Cant. as above.
[473] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 16 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 254). Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 72. The latter gives
the number of troops as fifteen hundred; Gerald makes them two
hundred knights and a thousand foot-men.
[474] So says Gerald, as above, c. 13 (p. 248); but Mr. Dimock
(_ib._ note 2) thinks this too early.
[475] _Ibid._ (pp. 248, 249). There is however a less heroic
version of this affair in the Anglo-Norman Poem (Michel), pp.
68–70. We are there told that Raymond and his men had provided
themselves with food by “lifting” all the cattle in the
neighbourhood and penning them within the camp. At the sound
of arms these creatures rushed out in a wild stampede, and it
was this which put the assailants to flight. On the site of
Dundonulf see Mr. Dimock’s _Glossary_ to Gir. Cambr., vol. v.
p. 421.
[476] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 16 (_ib._ pp. 254, 255).
[477] Four Masters, a. 1170 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1177).
[478] Ragnald and “the two Sihtrics”; Gir. Cambr. as above (p.
255). The Four Masters (as above) give to the commandant of
the citadel--which Gerald calls “Ragnald’s tower”--the name of
Gillemaire. In the Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 72, we read
that “les plus poanz de la cité” were Regenald and “Smorch.”
[479] Gir. Cambr. as above. Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 73.
Four Masters, a. 1170 (as above).
[480] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 17 (p. 256).
[481] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 75–78. Cf. Gir. Cambr.
and Four Masters as above. The latter say that “there was a
challenge of battle between them” (_i.e._ between Roderic
and the foreigners) “for three days, until lightning burned
Ath-Cliath” [Dublin].
[482] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 79, 80.
[483] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 17 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 256).
[484] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 80. He is there called
“Hesculf”; in p. 79, “Mac Turkil Esculf.” In the Four Masters,
a. 1170 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1177), he is “Asgall, son of
Raghnall, son of Turcaill.” Gir. Cambr. (as above) calls him
simply “Hasculphus.”
[485] Gir. Cambr. as above (pp. 256, 257). Anglo-Norm. Poem
(Michel), pp. 80, 81.
[486] Four Masters, as above. Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 257).
[487] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 81, 82.
[488] Gir. Cambr. as above. Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 82.
[489] “A victory was gained by the son of Cormac, grandson of
Carthach, and the people of Desmond, over the knights who were
left to defend Port Lairge” [_i.e._ Waterford]. Four Masters,
as above. Earl Richard returned thither early in October;
Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 82.
[490] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 83.
[491] Four Masters, a. 1170 (as above, pp. 1177, 1179).
In vain did the Irish clergy meet in synod at Armagh and strive
to avert the wrath which seemed to have been revealed against
their country by a solemn decree for the liberation of the English
slaves with whom, even yet, the houses of the Irish chieftains were
filled.[492] One sentence from an Irish record of the next year may
serve to illustrate the condition of the country: “Seven predatory
excursions were made by the Ui-Maine into Ormond from Palm Sunday till
Low Sunday.”[493] It made but little difference when at Whitsuntide
Dermot, “by whom a trembling sod was made of all Ireland,” died at
Ferns “of an insufferable and unknown disease--without a will, without
penance, without the Body of Christ, without unction, as his evil
deeds deserved.”[494] At that very moment a wiking fleet gathered from
all the lands where the old sea-rovers’ life still lingered--Norway,
the Hebrides, Orkney, Man--appeared in Dublin bay under the command
of Hasculf, the exiled leader of the Ostmen, and of a northern chief
whose desperate valour won him the title of “John the Furious”--in the
English speech of that day, John the Wode.[495] Something of the spirit
of the old northern sagas breathes again in the story of this, the last
wiking-fight ever fought upon the soil of the British isles. Bard and
historian alike tell of the mighty strokes dealt by the battle-axes
of John and his comrades,[496] and how they had almost hewed their
way into Dublin once more, when a well-timed sally of the besieged
caught them at unawares in the rear;[497]--how an Irish chief named
Gillamocholmog, whom Miles Cogan had posted on a neighbouring hill,
chivalrously bidding him watch the course of the battle and join the
winning side, rushed down with his followers at the critical moment and
helped to complete the rout of the Ostmen;[498]--how John the Wode fell
by the hand of Miles Cogan;[499]--how Hasculf was taken prisoner by
Miles’s brother Richard and brought back to be reserved for ransom, and
how his hot wiking-blood spoke in words of defiance which goaded his
captors to strike off his head.[500] Fifteen hundred northmen fell upon
the field; five hundred more were drowned in trying to regain their
ships.[501] From the shores of Ireland, as from those of England, the
last northern fleet was driven away by Norman swords.
[492] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 18 (p. 258).
[493] Four Masters, a. 1171 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1185). The
Ui-Maine were a tribe in south-eastern Connaught.
[494] _Ibid._ (p. 1183). Cf. Ann. Loch Cé, a. 1171 (Hennessy,
vol. i. p. 145). The date, “circa Kalendas Maiæ,” is given by
Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 20 (Dimock, vol. v. p.
263).
[495] “Duce Johanne agnomine the Wode,” Gir. Cambr. as above,
c. 21 (p. 264). “Johan le Devé,” Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel),
p. 108. It is there added that, “solum les Yrreis,” he was
a nephew of the king of “Norwiche,” _i.e._ Norway. The Four
Masters, a. 1171 (as above, p. 1185) describe him as “Eoan, a
Dane from the Orkney Islands.”
[496] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 116. Gir. Cambr. as above.
[497] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 111–114. Gir. Cambr. as
above.
[498] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 109–111, 115.
[499] _Ib._ p. 117.
[500] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 117, 118. (On his captor
cf. _ib._ p. 111). Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 21
(Dimock, vol. v. pp. 264, 265).
[501] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 116, 118. The date of this
siege is given by Gir. Cambr. (as above, p. 263) as “eâdem
fere tempestate” (_i.e._ about the time of Dermot’s death),
“circa Pentecosten.” This would be at the beginning of May. In
the Poem it comes much later in the year. There seems however
no reason to upset Gerald’s arrangement of events. See Mr.
Dimock’s remarks, Gir. Cambr. as above, note 2.
The garrison of Dublin fought in truth even more desperately than
their assailants; for they were fighting for their all. A remonstrance
addressed by some of the Irish princes to the king of England against
the aggressions of his subjects[502] can hardly have been needed to
open Henry’s eyes to the danger gathering for him and his realm beyond
the western sea. This little band of adventurers, almost all bound
together by the closest ties of kindred,[503] were conquering Leinster
neither for its native sovereign nor for their own, but were setting
up a new feudal state independent of all royal control, under the
leadership of a disgraced English baron. Such a state, if suffered
to grow unhindered, would soon be far more dangerous to England than
to Ireland, for it would be certain to play in every struggle of the
feudal principle against the royal authority in England the part
which the Ostmen had played of old in the struggles of the Danelaw.
At the beginning of the year 1171 therefore Henry issued an edict
prohibiting all further intermeddling of his subjects in Ireland,
and bidding those who were already there either return before Easter
or consider themselves banished for life.[504] Not a man went back;
Richard of Striguil sent Raymond over to Normandy with a written
protest to the king, pleading that his conquests had been undertaken
with the royal sanction and that he was ready to place them at the
king’s disposal;[505] but the “Geraldines,” as the kindred of Maurice
Fitz-Gerald called themselves, seem to have at once accepted their
sentence of exile and resolved to hold by their swords alone the lands
which those swords had won.[506]
[502] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 234, 235.
[503] The close kindred of these Norman-Welsh settlers in
Ireland is a very remarkable feature of their settlement.
Robert Fitz-Stephen and Maurice Fitz-Gerald were half-brothers
(Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 2, p. 229); the two Fitz-Henrys,
Raymond the Fat, Miles Fitz-David and Robert de Barri were
their nephews (_ib._ cc. 4, 13, and l. ii. c. 10, pp. 234, 248,
335); Richard of Striguil was nephew to Hervey of Mountmorris
(_ib._ l. i. c. 3, p. 230), who afterwards married a daughter
of Maurice Fitz-Gerald, while Maurice’s eldest son married
Richard’s daughter Alina (_ib._ l. ii. c. 4, p. 314); another
daughter of Richard married his constable Robert de Quincy
(Anglo-Norm. Poem, Michel, p. 130); and his sister Basilea
became the wife of Raymond the Fat (_ib._ p. 145, and Gir.
Cambr. as above, l. ii. c. 3, pp. 312, 313).
[504] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 19 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 259).
[505] _Ibid._ Cf. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 235. Raymond
was back again in time to share in the defence of Dublin
against Roderic O’Conor--_i.e._ by the end of May or beginning
of June. Gerald says he had to seek the king in “Aquitanic
Gaul,” but this time the phrase cannot be taken literally.
Eyton’s _Itinerary_ shews plainly that throughout 1171 Henry
never was further south than the Norman, or, at the utmost, the
Breton border.
[506] This seems to be the key-note of a speech which Gerald
puts into Maurice’s mouth; _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 23 (as
above, pp. 266, 267).
The hostility of the Ostmen had apparently ended with Hasculf’s defeat;
thenceforth they seem to have made common cause with the new-comers in
whom they were perhaps already beginning to recognize the stirrings of
kindred blood. But, on the other hand, the position of Earl Richard
and his comrades had been seriously weakened by Dermot’s death. The
king of Leinster’s devise of his kingdom to his son-in-law was, like
the grants which he had made to the Geraldines and like his own homage
to King Henry, void in Irish law. In Irish eyes his death removed the
last shadow of excuse for the presence of the strangers on Irish soil;
their allies rapidly fell away;[507] and by midsummer the whole country
rose against them as one man. Roderic O’Conor mustered the forces
of the north; Archbishop Laurence of Dublin, whose family occupied
an influential position in Leinster, called up the tribes of the
south; while a squadron of thirty ships was hired from Jarl Godred of
Man.[508] The aim of the expedition was to blockade Dublin, whither
Earl Richard had now returned, and where almost all the leaders of
the invasion, except Robert Fitz-Stephen and Hervey of Mountmorris,
were now gathered together. The whole Irish land-force amounted to
sixty thousand men; half of these were under the immediate command of
Roderic, encamped at Castle-Knock;[509] Mac-Dunlevy, the chieftain of
Uladh, planted his banner on the old battle-field of Clontarf;[510]
Donell O’Brien, the king of North Munster, posted himself at
Kilmainham; and Murtogh Mac-Murrough, a brother of Dermot, whom
Roderic had set up as king of Leinster in 1167, took up his position
at Dalkey.[511] To these were added, for the northern division, the
men of Breffny and of East Meath under Tighernan O’Ruark, those of
Oiriel or southern Ulster under Murtogh O’Carroll,[512] and those of
West Meath under Murtogh O’Melaghlin; while the archbishop’s call had
brought up the whole strength of Leinster except the men of Wexford and
Kinsellagh;[513] and even these, as the sequel proved, were preparing
to fight the same battle on other ground.
[507] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 83.
[508] Gir. Cambr. as above, cc. 22, 24 (pp. 265, 266, 269).
This is the archbishop afterwards canonized as S. Laurence
O’Toole.
[509] Cf. Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 84, with Gerald’s
reckoning of Roderic’s own forces at thirty thousand. _Expugn.
Hibern._, l. i. c. 24 (Dimock, vol. v. p. 268).
[510] “A Clontarf ficha sa banere.” Anglo-Norm. Poem, as above.
[511] _Ibid._
[512] Four Masters, a. 1171 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1185). Gir.
Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 24 (Dimock, vol. v. p. 269).
[513] Gir. Cambr. as above.
For nearly two months[514] the English knights were thus blockaded in
Dublin. Their sole hope of relief was in Robert Fitz-Stephen, who had
been left in command at Wexford. They were all but starving when Donell
Kavanagh, a half-brother of Eva Mac-Murrough and a devoted adherent
of her husband, slipped into the city with tidings that Wexford had
risen; Robert Fitz-Stephen was blockaded in the little fort of Carrick
by the townsfolk and the men of Kinsellagh, to the number of three
thousand; unless he could be succoured within three days, all would be
over with him and his men.[515] Earl Richard at once called a council
of war. It comprised nearly all the leaders of the English and Welsh
forces in Ireland:--Richard of Striguil himself; Maurice Fitz-Gerald
with three of his gallant nephews, Meiler Fitz-Henry, Miles Fitz-David
and Raymond the Fat; Miles Cogan, the captor of Dublin and its chief
defender in the recent siege; Maurice de Prendergast,[516] who two
years before had thrown up the adventure and gone home in disgust at
the faithlessness of his allies,[517] but had returned, it seems, in
Earl Richard’s train, and was yet to leave, alone of all the invading
band, an honoured memory among the Irish people;[518] and some fourteen
others.[519] They decided upon sending Maurice de Prendergast and
Archbishop Laurence to Roderic with an offer of surrender on condition
that Richard of Striguil should hold the kingdom of Leinster under
Roderic as overlord. Roderic rejected the proposal with scorn; the
knights might hold what the earlier pirates had held--Dublin, Waterford
and Wexford; not another rood of Irish land should be granted to the
earl and his company; and if they refused these terms, Dublin should be
stormed on the morrow.[520] That afternoon the little garrison--scarce
six hundred in all[521]--sallied forth and surprized Roderic’s camp
while he and his men were bathing; Roderic himself escaped with great
difficulty; fifteen hundred Irishmen were slain, many of them perishing
in the water; while at sunset the victors returned, after a long
pursuit, with scarcely a man missing, and laden with provisions enough
to supply all Dublin for a year.[522] The rest of the besieging army
dispersed at once, and the very next morning Earl Richard was free to
set out for the relief of Robert Fitz-Stephen.[523]
[514] _Ib._ c. 22 (p. 266). This would bring the beginning of
the siege to Midsummer at latest, for it was certainly over by
the middle of August. The Four Masters (as above) make it last
only a fortnight.
[515] Gir. Cambr. as above. The Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp.
85, 86, gives a very hasty and confused sketch of this Wexford
affair.
[516] Earl Richard, Meiler, the two Mileses and Maurice
Prendergast are mentioned in the Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp.
86, 87. Raymond is named by Gerald, _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i.
c. 22 (Dimock, vol. v. p. 266), as “a curiâ jam reversus”; his
presence also appears later in the Poem. Gerald alone mentions
the presence of Maurice Fitz-Gerald, whom the Poem never names
throughout the siege; while Gerald never names Maurice de
Prendergast. Is it possible that he has transferred to his
own uncle the exploits of his namesake? But if so, where can
Fitz-Gerald have been?
[517] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 51–67.
[518] _Ib._ pp. 97–103.
[519] The Poem (as above), p. 87, reckons them at twenty in
all, and names four besides those already mentioned, viz.,
Robert de Quincy, Walter de Riddlesford, Richard de Marreis and
Walter Bluet.
[520] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 87–90.
[521] The Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 90, 91, describes the
force as composed of three divisions, each consisting of forty
knights, sixty archers and a hundred “serjanz.” Gir. Cambr. as
above, c. 24 (p. 268), makes the three bands of knights contain
respectively twenty, thirty and forty, each accompanied by as
many archers and citizens as could be spared from guarding the
walls.
[522] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 24 (Dimock, vol.
v. pp. 268, 269). Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 90–94. Cf. the
brief account in Four Masters, a. 1171 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p.
1185).
[523] Gir. Cambr. as above (pp. 269, 270). Anglo-Norm. Poem
(Michel), p. 95.
He was however already too late. Three thousand men of Wexford and
Kinsellagh, finding that they could make no impression by fair means
upon Robert Fitz-Stephen shut up in the fort of Carrick with five
knights and a handful of archers, at length had recourse to fraud. Two
bishops and some monks were made to stand under the walls of the fort
and swear upon relics brought for the purpose that Dublin was taken,
the earl and his comrades slain, and Roderic on the march to Wexford at
the head of his victorious host. On a promise of liberty to escape to
Wales[524] Robert in his despair surrendered, only to see his little
band of humbler followers slaughtered to a man, and himself and his
five knights cast into chains. The men of Wexford then fired their
town and took refuge with their captives on the neighbouring island of
Beg-Erin,[525] whence they sent word to Richard of Striguil that if
he dared to approach them he should immediately receive the heads of
his six friends.[526] Notwithstanding this disaster at Wexford, and
the failure of a plot to entrap the chief of Ossory--a well-deserved
failure, due to the loyalty of Maurice de Prendergast[527]--the
invaders were rapidly gaining ground. The king of North Munster, who
was married to Eva’s sister, again forsook Roderic and made alliance
with his English brother-in-law;[528] an attempt made by Tighernan
O’Ruark to renew the siege of Dublin ended in failure;[529] and at
last Murtogh of Kinsellagh was reduced to make a surrender of his
principality into Richard’s hands and accept a re-grant of it from him
as overlord, while Donell Kavanagh was invested on like terms with the
remaining portion of Leinster.[530]
[524] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 25 (pp. 270, 271).
[525] _Ibid._ (p. 271). Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 85, 97.
[526] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 28 (p. 273).
[527] See the story in Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 97–103.
[528] _Ib._ pp. 97, 98.
[529] Four Masters, a. 1171 (as above, pp. 1185–1187). Gir.
Cambr. as above, c. 29 (p. 274).
[530] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 103.
The earl’s triumphs, however, met with an abrupt check from over
sea. His uncle Hervey of Mountmorris, who had gone to plead his
cause with the king after the failure of Raymond’s mission, returned
to Waterford[531] with tidings that Henry himself was on his way
to Ireland and required the self-styled earl of Leinster to go and
speak with him without delay. Richard hurried over to Wales,[532]
met Henry on the border,[533] and was forgiven on condition that
he should surrender Dublin and the other coast towns absolutely
into the king’s hands and do him homage and fealty for the rest of
Leinster;[534] he then accompanied Henry into Pembrokeshire;[535]
where the royal fleet was assembling in Milford Haven. It consisted
of four hundred ships,[536] carrying a force of about four thousand
men, of whom some five hundred were knights and the rest archers,
mounted and unmounted.[537] The king embarked on the evening of
Saturday, October 16, and landed next day at Croch, eight miles from
Waterford.[538] On the morrow, S. Luke’s day, he entered the town of
Waterford;[539] there he was met by his seneschal William Fitz-Aldhelm,
his constable Humfrey de Bohun, Hugh de Lacy, Robert Fitz-Bernard,
and some other officers of his household whom he had sent over to
prepare for his coming.[540] The Irish of the district and the Ostmen
of the town, in the person of their chieftain Ragnald, made submission
to him as their sovereign;[541] while Richard of Striguil formally
surrendered the place into the king’s hands and did homage to him for
the earldom of Leinster.[542] The men of Wexford now, according to
an agreement which they had made with Henry while he was waiting for
a wind at Pembroke,[543] brought their captive Robert Fitz-Stephen
to his sovereign’s feet, to be by him dealt with as a rebel and a
traitor. Henry loaded him with reproaches and imprisoned him afresh,
but his anger was more assumed than real, and the captive was soon
released.[544] The submission of the English adventurers was followed
by that of the Irish princes. Dermot MacCarthy, king of Cork or South
Munster, was the first of them who came to Henry’s feet at Waterford,
swore him fealty, gave hostages and promised tribute.[545] On November
1[546] Henry advanced to Lismore, and thence, two days later, to
Cashel, where at the passage of the Suir he was met by the king of
Limerick or of Northern Munster, Donell O’Brien, with offers of tribute
and obedience. The lesser chieftains of southern Ireland followed the
example of the two kings; in three weeks from his arrival all Munster
was at his feet, and its coast-towns, Wexford, Waterford, Limerick and
Cork, were all in the custody of his own officers.[547] At Martinmas he
reached Dublin;[548] before Christmas he received hostages from all the
princes of Leinster and Meath, from Tighernan O’Ruark of Breffny, from
O’Carroll of Oiriel, and from the king of Uladh or eastern Ulster;[549]
his new vassals built him a dwelling of wattle or wicker-work, after
the manner of their country, outside the walls of Dublin, and there in
their midst he held his Christmas court.[550]
[531] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 28 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 273). Hervey must have gone before Midsummer; he was
clearly not in Dublin during the second siege, and returned
shortly after its conclusion.
[532] _Ibid._ Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 105, 106.
[533] At Newnham in Gloucestershire, according to Gerald (as
above). The Anglo-Norm. Poem (p. 106), however, says they met
at Pembroke. This would make a difference of at least ten days
in the date. From the account of Henry’s movements in the _Brut
y Tywys._, a. 1171 (William, pp. 211–213), it seems that he
crossed the border about September 8 and reached Pembroke on
September 20.
[534] Gir. Cambr. as above. Cf. Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 26
(Howlett, vol. i. pp. 168, 169).
[535] _Brut y Tywys._, a. 1171 (Williams, p. 215).
[536] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 25; Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 29; Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 235.
The Four Masters, a. 1171 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1187), and
Ann. Loch. Cé, a. 1171 (Hennessy, vol. i. p. 145), give the
number as two hundred and forty.
[537] Gerald (_Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 30, Dimock, vol. v.
p. 275) reckons five hundred knights, with “arcariis [_var._
satellitibus equestribus] quoque et sagittariis multis.” The
Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 123, makes the knights four
hundred, and a few lines later sums up the whole force as
“quatre mil Engleis.” Mr. W. Lynch (_View of Legal Inst. in
Ireland under Hen. II._, p. 2) argues from the payments for
arms, provisions, shipping, etc. recorded in the Pipe-Rolls
for 1171, that the army must have numerically “far exceeded
the force described in our printed historians.” He gives a
few details of these payments, extracted from the Pipe-Roll
in question (17 Hen. II., a. 1171); some more, from this and
the next year’s roll, maybe seen in Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._,
pp. 161, 163. The host was no doubt composed almost wholly of
English tenants-in-chivalry; but whatever may have been its
numbers, there was a large proportion of these tenants who had
nothing to do with it except by paying its expenses next year
with a great scutage. See in Madox, _Hist. Exch._, vol. i. pp.
629–632, the extracts from Pipe Roll 18 Hen. II. “de scutagio
militum qui nec abierunt in Hyberniam nec denarios” (in some
cases “nec milites nec denarios”) “illuc miserunt.”
[538] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 25; Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 29. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 348,
makes October 16 the day of Henry’s arrival in Ireland; Gerv.
Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 235, makes it “about S. Calixtus’s
day” (October 16 would be two days after). Gerald, _Expugn.
Hibern._, l. i. c. 30 (Dimock, vol. v. p. 275) makes him reach
Waterford “circa kalendas Novembris, die videlicet S. Lucæ.”
The Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel, p. 123) turns this into “à la
Tusseinz”; the Four Masters, a. 1171 (O’Donovan, vol. ii. p.
1187) record his coming without any date at all; and the _Brut
y Tywys._ a. 1171 (Williams, p. 217), absurdly says he sailed
on Sunday, November 16. The Anglo-Norman poet seems to have
taken Croch--“à la Croiz” as he calls it--for the place of
embarkation.
[539] _Gesta Hen._, Rog. Howden and Gir. Cambr. as above.
[540] _Gesta Hen._ and Rog. Howden, as above. Anglo-Norm. Poem
(Michel), p. 124.
[541] _Gesta Hen._ as above. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p.
30.
[542] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 124.
[543] See the curious story of their envoy’s arrival and
reception at Pembroke, _ib._ pp. 119–123.
[544] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. cc. 31, 32 (Dimock,
vol. v. pp. 276, 277, 278). Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 125,
126.
[545] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 31 (p. 277).
[546] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 30, says he stayed at
Waterford fifteen days.
[547] Gir. Cambr. as above, cc. 31, 32 (pp. 277, 278). He adds
that Henry returned to Waterford, where he released Robert
Fitz-Stephen, and thence proceeded to Dublin. The Anglo-Norm.
Poem (Michel), pp. 126, 127, places this progress through
Cashel and Lismore in inverse order, after Henry’s first visit
to Dublin, and says nothing of a second visit to Waterford. Its
account is however much less circumstantial than Gerald’s. The
_Gesta Hen._ and Rog. Howden only name two places where Henry
stayed--Waterford and Dublin; and as they both say he reached
the latter at Martinmas, while Roger says he left Waterford
when he had been there a fortnight (_i.e._ on November 1),
Gerald’s story fills up the interval very well.
[548] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 28. Rog. Howden (as
above), p. 32.
[549] Gerald (as above, c. 33, p. 278) enumerates the princes
who submitted at Dublin as follows: “Machelanus Ophelan
[O’Phelan], Machtalewi, Otuetheli [O’Toole], Gillemoholmoch
[Gillamocholmog of Fingal by Dublin--see above, p. 106],
Ocathesi [O’Casey], Ocaruel Urielensis [O’Carroll of Oiriel],
et Ororicius Medensis [O’Ruark]”. He then relates the
half-submission of Roderic of Connaught (of which more later),
and adds: “sic itaque, præter solos Ultonienses, subditi per
se singuli.” (_Ib._ p. 279.) He need not however have excepted
the Ulstermen; for the Ann. Loch Cé, a. 1171 (Hennessy, vol.
i. p. 145)--copying, it seems, the old Annals of Ulster (see
Four Masters, O’Donovan, vol. ii. p. 1187, note _c_, and
O’Kelly’s note to Lynch’s _Cambr. Evers._, vol. ii. p. 472,
note _d_)--say that Henry while at Dublin received hostages
from “Leinster, Meath, Breffny, Oiriel and Uladh.” This leaves
only Connaught and Aileach unsubdued. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs, vol.
i. p. 235) and the _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 25) lump
all these submissions together, and the latter seems to place
them all, as well as the submission of the bishops, during
Henry’s stay in Waterford. Rog. Howden (Stubbs, vol. ii. p.
30) not only does the same still more distinctly, but he does
worse; he places the submission of the bishops first, and then
says that the lay princes submitted “exemplo clericorum.” It
is he, not Gerald or any one else, who is responsible for this
misrepresentation, which the champions of the Irish Church have
been justly denouncing ever since Dr. Lynch’s time.
[550] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 28, 29. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 32. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 236.
Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 33 (Dimock, vol. v. p.
279).
Early in November two royal chaplains had been despatched to summon the
Irish bishops to a council and claim their submission.[551] We hear
not a word of Pope Adrian’s bull; but we can hardly doubt that its
existence and its contents were in some way or other certified to the
Irish prelates before, in response to the royal mandate, they met in
council at Cashel in the first weeks of 1172.[552] The archbishop of
Armagh absented himself on the plea of extreme age and infirmity;[553]
all his episcopal brethren, however, made full submission to Henry,
pledged themselves to conform in all things to the pattern of the
English Church,[554] gave written promises to support the English king
and his heirs as lawful sovereigns of Ireland,[555] and joined with
him in sending to Rome a report of his proceedings and their own.[556]
[551] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 28. Rog. Howden (as above),
p. 31. The messengers were Nicolas, a chaplain of the king, and
Ralf archdeacon of Landaff. They were sent out “circa festum S.
Leonardi” (November 6). _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[552] The _Gesta Hen._ and Rog. Howden as above, both place
this council before Christmas 1171. Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 35
(p. 281), and R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 351, date it 1172.
It seems better to follow them, for though Gerald is certainly
no chronologist, he is the only writer who gives a detailed and
rational account of this synod; and the summary given by R.
Diceto also shews a fair knowledge of the subject, though he
makes the synod meet at Lismore instead of Cashel.
[553] Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 283). He adds that the primate
afterwards went to Dublin and there submitted to Henry; but see
Dr. Lanigan’s comment, _Eccles. Hist. Ireland_, vol. iv. pp.
205, 206.
[554] Gir. Cambr. as above. R. Diceto (as above), pp. 350, 351.
[555] They sent him “litteras suas in modum cartæ extra
sigillum pendentes:” _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 26. Cf. Rog.
Howden (as above), pp. 30, 31. This is however placed by both
writers some time before the council. See above, p. 114,
note 6{549}.
[556] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 31, says that Henry
sent copies of the bishops’ letters of submission to Rome.
Dr. Lanigan (_Eccles. Hist. Ireland_, vol. iv. pp. 217, 218)
objects that this can only have been done some time later,
as Henry’s communications were cut off by the weather. But
this is not borne out either by the words of R. Diceto
(Stubbs, vol. i. p. 350) or by those of Gerald (_Expugn.
Hibern._, l. i. c. 36, Dimock, vol. v. p. 284). They both
say distinctly that a persistent contrary wind hindered all
communication _from England to Ireland_. For communication
in the opposite direction such a wind would surely be most
favourable. Moreover, it is quite certain that the Pope did,
some time before September 20, 1172, receive reports of Henry’s
proceedings in Ireland both from Henry himself and from the
Irish bishops, for he says so in three letters--one addressed
to Henry, another to the kings and bishops of Ireland, and the
third to the legate, Christian bishop of Lismore--all dated
Tusculum, September 20, and all printed in Hearne’s _Liber
Niger_, vol. i. pp. 42–48, as well as in the notes to _Macariæ
Excidium_ (O’Callaghan), pp. 255–262.
In all Ireland the king of Connaught was now the only ruler, spiritual
or temporal, who had not submitted to Henry.[557] Trusting to the
inaccessible nature of his country,[558] Roderic had at first refused
all dealings with the invader, declaring that he himself was the sole
rightful monarch of Ireland.[559] It seems however that he afterwards
came to a meeting with William Fitz-Aldhelm and Hugh de Lacy by the
banks of the Shannon, on the frontier of Connaught and Meath, and
there promised tribute and fealty like his fellow-kings.[560] The
promise was however worthless until confirmed by his personal homage;
and this Henry soon perceived was only to be extorted at the sword’s
point. The impossibility of fighting to any advantage in the wet Irish
winter compelled him to postpone the attempt until the spring;[561]
and when spring came he found that his intended campaign must be
abandoned altogether. From the day when he left Milford he had received
not one word of tidings from any part of his dominions.[562] This
total isolation, welcome at first as a relief from the load of cares
which indeed he had purposely left behind him,[563] became at the end
of nineteen weeks a source of almost unbearable anxiety. On March 1
he removed from Dublin to Wexford;[564] there for nearly a month he
remained eagerly watching for a ship from England; none came until
after Mid-Lent,[565] and then it was laden with such ill news that he
could only take such hasty measures as were possible at the moment for
maintaining his hold upon Ireland, and prepare to hurry out of it as
soon as the wind would carry him.[566] Richard of Striguil was suffered
to remain at Kildare[567] as earl of Leinster; the general direction
of government and administration throughout the king’s Irish domains
was intrusted to Hugh de Lacy,[568] who had already received a grant of
Meath in fee,[569] and who was also left in command of the citadel of
Dublin,[570] with a garrison of twenty knights, among whom were Maurice
Fitz-Gerald[571] and Robert Fitz-Stephen.[572] The grants of territory
made by Dermot to the half-brothers were of course annulled; Waterford
and Wexford were both garrisoned and placed in charge of an officer
appointed by the king;[573] and in each of these towns a fortress was
either erected or repaired by his orders.[574]
[557] Perhaps we should add the chief of Aileach; see above, p.
114, note 6{549}.
[558] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 348.
[559] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 25, 26. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 235.
[560] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 33 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 279). See Dr. Lanigan’s refutation of Gerald’s comment on
the legal effect of this transaction, _Eccles. Hist. Ireland_,
vol. iv. pp. 203, 204.
[561] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), pp. 26, 29.
[562] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 36 (p. 284). R. Diceto as above,
p. 350.
[563] See Gervase of Canterbury’s account of his motives for
going to Ireland (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 235).
[564] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 29; Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 33.
[565] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 37 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 285).
[566] _Ib._ c. 37 (pp. 285, 286). In the Anglo-Norm. Poem
(Michel), pp. 128, 129, Henry is made to receive the bad news
before leaving Dublin, which is obviously too soon. Cf. _Gesta
Hen._ as above, and Rog. Howden (as above), pp. 33, 34.
[567] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 132.
[568] “Constituit eum justitiarium Hyberniæ.” Rog. Howden (as
above), p. 34.
[569] _Ibid._ _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 30. Gir. Cambr. (as
above), c. 38 (p. 286). Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 130. See
the charter of donation in Lyttelton, _Hen. II._, vol. iv. p.
295.
[570] Gir. Cambr., _Gesta Hen._ and Rog. Howden, as above.
Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 129.
[571] Gir. Cambr. as above.
[572] Anglo-Norm. Poem, as above--adding Meiler Fitz-Henry and
Miles Fitz-David.
[573] _Gesta Hen._, Rog. Howden and Gir. Cambr. as above.
[574] _Gesta Hen._ and Rog. Howden, as above. If we may believe
the Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel, p. 130) Henry furthermore made
a grant of Ulster to John de Courcy--“si à force la peust
conquere.”
A better mode of securing his authority in Dublin was probably
suggested to him by the ravages which war and famine had made among
its population. Eight years before he had taken the burghers of
Bristol, so long the medium of trading intercourse between England
and Ireland, under his especial patronage and protection.[575] He now
granted to them the city of Dublin, to colonize and to hold of him and
his heirs by the same free customs which they enjoyed in their own
town of Bristol.[576] It is plain that Henry was already aiming at
something far other than a mere military conquest of Ireland; and the
long and varied list of English names, from all parts of the country,
which is found in a roll of the Dublin citizens only a few years
later,[577] shews how willingly his plans were taken up, not only at
Bristol but throughout his realm, by the class to which he chiefly
and rightly trusted for aid in their execution. Unluckily, they were
scarcely formed when he was obliged to leave their developement to
other hands; and the consequence was a half success which proved in
the end to be far worse than total failure. On Easter night[578] he
sailed from Wexford;[579] next day he landed at Portfinnan, hard by S.
David’s;[580] before the octave was out he had hurried through South
Wales to Newport;[581] in a few days more he was at Portsmouth;[582]
and before Rogation-tide he was once more in Normandy, ready to face
the bursting of a storm whose consequences were to overshadow all his
remaining years and to preclude all chance of his return to complete
his conquest of Ireland.
[575] In January 1164 “he granted a short charter of privileges
to the burghers of Bristol, whom as sovereign lord he calls
_his_ burgesses, although they were then under the lordship
of the earl of Gloucester. This charter contains only an
exemption from toll and passage and other customary payments
for themselves and their goods through the king’s own lands,
with a confirmation of their existing privileges and liberties”
(Seyer, _Mem. of Bristol_, vol. i. p. 494, with a reference to
“Charters of Bristol, No. 1”).
[576] Charter printed in Gilbert, _Hist. and Munic. Documents
of Ireland_, p. 1.
[577] _Ib._ p. 3 _et seq._
[578] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 351, says at sunset on
Easter day (April 16); the Ann. Loch Cé, a. 1172 (Hennessy,
vol. i. p. 147), say on Easter day “after Mass.” Gerald,
_Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 38 (Dimock, vol. v. p. 286), the
_Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 30, and Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 34, say he sailed early on the Monday morning,
the two latter adding a reason--he would not travel on the
feast-day, though he had suffered his household to do so. Most
probably he sailed at midnight, as seems to have been often
done. The _Brut y Tywys._ a. 1172 (Williams, p. 217), makes him
reach Pembroke on Good Friday, but this is impossible.
[579] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 30. Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel),
p. 131. The household had sailed from Croch to Milford; _ibid._
Cf. Rog. Howden as above, p. 34.
[580] _Gesta Hen._ and Rog. Howden, as above. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 351. The name of the place, Portfinnan, is
given only in the Anglo-Norm. Poem (as above).
[581] See the itinerary in Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i.
cc. 38–40 (Dimock, vol. v. pp. 286–291), compared with _Brut y
Tywys._ a. 1172 (Williams, pp. 217–219).
[582] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 30. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 34. It is Porchester in R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 351.
CHAPTER IV.
HENRY AND THE BARONS.
1166–1175.
For the last eight years Henry had been literally, throughout his
English realm, over all persons and all causes supreme. From the hour
of Thomas’s flight, not a hand, not a voice was lifted to oppose or
to question his will; England lay passive before him; the time seemed
to have come when he might work out at leisure and without fear of
check his long-cherished plans of legal, judicial and administrative
reform. In the execution of those plans, however, he was seriously
hampered by the indirect consequences of the ecclesiastical quarrel.
One of these was his own prolonged absence from England, which was
made necessary by the hostility of France, and which compelled him
to be content with setting his reforms in operation and then leave
their working to other hands and other heads, without the power of
superintending it and watching its effects with his own eyes, during
nearly six years. He had now to learn that the enemy with whom he had
been striving throughout those years was after all not the most serious
obstacle in his way;--that the most threatening danger to his scheme of
government still lay, as it had lain at his accession, in that temper
of the baronage which it had been his first kingly task to bring under
subjection. The victory which he had gained over Hugh Bigod in 1156
was real, but it was not final. The spirit of feudal insubordination
was checked, not crushed; it was only waiting an opportunity to lift
its head once more; and with the strife that raged around S. Thomas of
Canterbury the opportunity came.
Henry’s attitude towards the barons during these years had been of
necessity a somewhat inconsistent one. He never lost sight of the
main thread of policy which he had inherited from his grandfather: a
policy which may be defined as the consolidation of kingly power in
his own hands, through the repression of the feudal nobles and the
raising of the people at large into a condition of greater security
and prosperity, and of closer connexion with and dependence upon the
Crown, as a check and counterpoise to the territorial influence of
the feudataries. On the other hand, his quarrel with the primate had
driven him to throw himself on the support of those very feudataries
whom it was his true policy to repress, and had brought him into
hostility with the ecclesiastical interest which ought to have been,
and which actually had been until now, his surest and most powerful
aid. If it was what we may perhaps venture to call the feudal side of
the ecclesiastical movement--its introduction of a separate system of
law and jurisdiction, traversing and impeding the course of his own
uniform regal administration--which roused the suspicions of the king,
it was its anti-feudal side, its championship of the universal rights
and liberties of men in the highest and widest sense, that provoked
the jealousy of the nobles. This was a point which Henry, blinded for
the moment by his natural instinct of imperiousness, seems to have
overlooked when at the council of Northampton he stooped to avail
himself of the assistance of the barons to crush the primate. They
doubtless saw what he failed to see, that he was crushing not so much
his own rival as theirs. The cause of the Church was bound up with that
of the people, and both alike were closely knit to that of the Crown.
Sceptre and crozier once parted, the barons might strive with the
former at an advantage such as they had never had while Lanfranc stood
beside William and Anselm beside Henry I., such as they never could
have had if Thomas had remained standing by the side of Henry II.[583]
[583] “The government party was made up of two elements--the
higher order of the Clergy, who joined the king out of
cowardice, having more at stake than they could make up their
minds to lose; and the higher order of the Laity, who in this
instance sided with the king against the Church, that when
they had removed this obstacle they might afterwards fight him
single-handed.” (R. H. Froude, _Remains_, vol. iv. p. 30).
Which is just what Arnulf of Lisieux saw from the first (Ep.
clxii., Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp. 309, 310), and what
Henry learned to his cost in 1173.
As yet, however, there was no token of the strife to come. In
February 1166, two years after the publication of the Constitutions
of Clarendon, Henry assembled another council at the same place and
thence issued an ordinance[584] for carrying out a reform in the
method of bringing to justice criminals in general, similar to that
which he had in the Constitutions sought to apply to criminals of one
particular class. By the Assize of Clarendon it was enacted that the
king’s justices and the sheriffs should in every shire throughout the
kingdom make inquiry concerning all crimes therein committed “since
our lord the king was king.”[585] The method of their investigations
was that of inquest by sworn recognitors chosen from among the “lawful
men” of each hundred and township, and bound by oath to speak the truth
according to their knowledge of the fact in question. This mode of
legal inquiry had been introduced into England by William the Conqueror
for fiscal purposes, such as the taking of the Domesday survey, and its
employment for similar objects was continued by his successors. Henry
II. had in the early years of his reign applied the same principle
to the uses of civil litigation by an ordinance known as the “Great
Assize,” whereby disputes concerning the possession of land might, if
the litigants chose, be settled before the justices of the king’s court
by the unanimous oath of twelve lawful knights chosen according to a
prescribed form from among those dwelling in the district where the
land lay, and therefore competent to swear to the truth or falsehood of
the claim.[586] This proceeding seems to be assumed as already in use
by the ninth Constitution of Clarendon, which ordains its application
to disputes concerning Church lands.[587] The Assize of Clarendon aimed
at bringing criminals to justice by the help of the same machinery. It
decreed that in every hundred of every shire inquest should be made by
means of twelve lawful men of the hundred and four from each township,
who should be sworn to denounce every man known in their district
as a robber, thief or murderer, or a harbourer of such; on their
presentment the accused persons were to be arrested by the sheriff,
and kept by him in safe custody till they could be brought before the
itinerant justices, to undergo the ordeal of water and receive legal
punishment according to its results.[588] The inquest was to be taken
and the session of the justices held in full shire-court; no personal
privileges of any kind were to exempt any qualified member of the court
from his duty of attendance and of service on the jury of recognitors
if required;[589] and no territorial franchise or private jurisdiction,
whether of chartered town or feudal “honour,” was to shelter a criminal
thus accused from the pursuit of the sheriffs on the authority of the
justices.[590]
[584] On the date see Bishop Stubbs’ preface to _Gesta Hen._,
vol. ii. pp. lix.–lxi. The Assize is printed in an appendix to
same preface, pp. cxlix–cliv, and in _Select Charters_, pp.
143–146.
[585] Assize of Clarendon, c. 1 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p.
143).
[586] Glanville, _De legibus Angliæ_, l. ii. c. 7 (_ib._ p.
161). Cf. Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. p. 616.
[587] Constit. Clar. c. 9 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 139).
See above, pp. 26, 27.
[588] Assize Clar. cc. 1, 2, 4, 6 (as above, pp. 143, 144).
[589] _Ib._ c. 8 (p. 144).
[590] _Ib._ cc. 9–11 (as above).
As was the case with most of Henry’s reforms, none of the methods of
procedure adopted in this Assize were new inventions. Not only had
the inquest by sworn recognitors been in use for civil purposes ever
since the Norman conquest; it may even be that the germ of a jury of
presentment in criminal cases, which in its modern shape appears for
the first time in the Assize of Clarendon, is to be traced yet further
back, to an ordinance of Æthelred II., whereby the twelve senior thegns
in every wapentake were made to swear that they would “accuse no
innocent man nor conceal any guilty one.”[591] The mission of itinerant
justices--derived in principle from the early days of English kingship,
when the sovereign himself perambulated his whole realm, hearing and
deciding whatever cause came before him as he passed along--had been
employed by Henry I., and revived by Henry II. immediately after his
accession. A visitation of the greater part of England had been made by
two of the chief officers of the Curia Regis in the first year of his
reign, and again in the second; another circuit seems to have been made
in 1159 by William Fitz-John; and in 1163 Alan de Neville held pleas
of the forest in Oxfordshire, while the justiciar himself, Richard de
Lucy, made a journey into Cumberland to hold the pleas of the Crown
there, for the first time since the district had passed into the hands
of the king of Scots.[592] From the date of the Assize of Clarendon,
however, these journeys became regular and general,[593] and the work
of the judges employed on them became far more extensive and important.
[591] Laws of Æthelred II., l. iii. c. 3 (Stubbs, _Select
Charters_, p. 72). See Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. pp.
103, 115, 396, 611, 614.
[592] Stubbs, _Gesta Hen._, vol. ii., pref. p. lxiv.
[593] _Ib._ pp. lxiii, lxiv.
The first visitation under the assize was at once begun by Richard de
Lucy and Geoffrey de Mandeville, earl of Essex;[594] and the Pipe Roll
of the year furnishes some indications of its immediate results. The
sums credited to the treasury for the pleas of the Crown reach a far
greater amount than in the earlier rolls, and its receipts are further
swelled by the goods and chattels of criminals condemned under the
assize,[595] which were explicitly declared forfeit to the king.[596]
The clause binding all qualified persons to be ready to serve on the
juries was strictly enforced; one attempt to evade it was punished with
a fine of five marks.[597] Another clause, enjoining upon the sheriffs
the construction and repair of gaols for the detention of criminals,
was carried into effect with equal vigour.[598] The work of the two
justiciars was apparently not completed till the summer of 1167.[599]
In that year pleas of the forest were held throughout the country
by Alan de Neville; and in 1168 seven barons of the Exchequer made a
general visitation of the shires for the collection of an aid on the
marriage of the king’s eldest daughter.[600] This last was primarily a
fiscal journey; the aid itself was a strictly feudal impost, assessed
at one mark on every knight’s fee.[601] It was however levied in a
remarkable manner. The Domesday survey, which by a few modifications in
practice had been made to serve as the rate-book of the whole kingdom
for eighty years, was at last found inadequate for the present purpose.
A royal writ was therefore addressed to all the tenants-in-chief,
requiring from them an account of the knights’ fees which they held
and the services due upon them, whether under the “old infeoffment”
of the time of Henry I., or under the “new infeoffment” since the
resettlement of the country by his grandson.[602] The answers were
enrolled in what is known as the _Black Book of the Exchequer_[603]
and the aid was levied in accordance with their contents. The whole
process occupied a considerable time; the preparations seem to have
begun shortly after Matilda’s betrothal, for we hear of the purchase of
“a hutch for keeping the barons’ letters concerning their knights” as
early as 1166,[604] yet the collection of the money was not finished
till the summer of 1169,[605] a year and a half after her marriage. The
labours of the barons employed in it were however not confined to this
one end; as usual, their travels were turned to account for judicial
purposes,[606] and the system begun by the assize of Clarendon was by
no means suffered to fall into disuse.
[594] Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. p. 470. _Gesta Hen._,
vol. ii., pref. pp. lxiv, lxv.
[595] See Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. p. 471.
[596] Ass. Clar., c. 5 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, pp. 143,
144).
[597] “Homines de Tichesoura debent v marcas quia noluerunt
jurare assisam regis.” Pipe Roll a. 1166, quoted in Stubbs,
_Constit. Hist._, vol. i. p. 470, note 1.
[598] “The expenses of gaols at Canterbury, Rochester,
Huntingdon, Cambridge, Sarum, Malmesbury, Aylesbury and Oxford
are accounted for in the Roll of 1166.” _Ib._ p. 471, note 5.
[599] Stubbs, _Gesta Hen._, vol. ii., pref. pp. lxiv, lxv and
note 1.
[600] Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. p. 471 and note 6.
[601] _Ib._ p. 472. Madox, _Hist. Exch._, vol. i. p. 572.
[602] The tenour of the king’s writ is shewn by a typical
answer, printed by Bishop Stubbs in his _Select Charters_, p.
146, from Hearne’s _Liber Niger Scaccarii_ (2d ed.), vol. i.
pp. 148, 149.
[603] _Liber Niger Scaccarii_, edited by Hearne. A roll of the
Norman tenants-in-chivalry was compiled in the same manner in
1172; see Stapleton, _Magni Rotuli Scaccarii Normanniæ_, vol.
i., _Observations_, p. xxxiv.
[604] Madox, _Hist. Exch._, vol. i. p. 576, and Stubbs,
_Constit. Hist._, p. 471, note 7, from Pipe Roll a. 1166.
[605] Stubbs, as above, p. 472, and _Gesta Hen._, vol. ii.
pref. p. lxv and note 2. Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 117.
[606] Stubbs, _Gesta Hen._, vol. ii., pref. p. lxv, note 2.
It was too soon as yet for the beneficial results of these measures to
become evident to the people at large; but it was not too soon for them
to excite the resentment of the barons. The stringency with which in
the assize of Clarendon every claim of personal exemption or special
jurisdiction was made to give way before the all-embracing authority
of the king’s supreme justice shewed plainly that Henry still clave
to the policy which had led him to insist upon the restoration of
alienated lands and the surrender of unlicensed castles in England, to
lose no opportunity of exercising his ducal right to seize and garrison
the castles of his vassals in Normandy[607]--in a word, to check and
thwart in every possible way the developement of the feudal principle.
The assessment of the aid for his daughter’s marriage seems indeed at
first glance to have been based on a principle wholly favourable to the
barons, for it apparently left the determination of each landowner’s
liabilities wholly in his own hands. But the commissioners who spent
nearly two years in collecting the aid had ample power and ample
opportunity to check any irregularities which might have occurred in
the returns; and the impost undoubtedly pressed very heavily upon the
feudal tenants as a body. Its proceeds seem, however, not to have
come up to Henry’s expectations, and the unsatisfactory reports which
reached him from England of the general results of his legal measures
led him to suspect some failure in duty on the part of those who were
charged with their execution.
[607] Stubbs, _Gesta Hen._, vol. ii. pref. p. xlvii, note.
A large share of responsibility rested with the sheriffs; and the
sheriffs were still for the most part, as they had been in his
grandfather’s days, the chief landowners in their respective shires,
men of great local importance, and only too likely to have at once
the will and the power to defeat the ends of the very measures which
by their official position they were called upon to administer. Henry
therefore on his return to England at Easter 1170 summarily deposed
all sheriffs of counties and bailiffs of royal demesnes, pending an
inquisition into all the details of their official conduct since his
own departure over sea four years ago. The inquiry was intrusted not
to any of the usual members of the King’s Court and Exchequer, but to a
large body of commissioners specially chosen for the purpose from the
higher ranks of both clergy and laity.[608] These were to take pledges
of all the sheriffs and bailiffs that they would be ready to appear
before the king and make redress on an appointed day; an oath was also
to be exacted from all barons, knights and freemen in every shire that
they would answer truthfully and without respect of persons to all
questions put to them by the commissioners in the king’s name.[609]
[608] The list of commissioners for seven of the southern
shires is in Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 216. See also
Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. p. 473 and note 2.
[609] Inquest of sheriffs, Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 148.
Gerv. Cant. (as above), p. 217.
The subject-matter of these inquiries, as laid down in the king’s
instructions, embraced far more than the conduct of the sheriffs. Not
only were the commissioners to examine into all particulars of the
sums received by the sheriffs and bailiffs in the discharge of their
functions, and the manner and grounds of their acquisition,[610] and
into the disposal of all chattels and goods forfeited under the assize
of Clarendon; they were also to ascertain whether the collection of the
aid _pour fille marier_ had been honestly conducted; they were at the
same time to investigate the administration of the forests[611] and
the condition of the royal demesnes;[612] to find out and report any
persons who had failed to do homage to the king or his son;[613] and
they were moreover to make inquisition into the proceedings of all the
special courts of the various franchises, whether held by archbishop
or bishop, abbot, earl or baron, as fully and minutely as into those
of the ordinary hundreds.[614] Only two months were allowed to the
commissioners for their work, which nothing but their great number
can have enabled them to execute in the time. Unhappily, the report
which they brought up to the king on S. Barnabas’s day is lost, and we
have no record of its results save in relation to one point: out of
twenty-seven sheriffs, only seven were allowed to retain their offices.
The rest, who were mostly local magnates owing their importance rather
to their territorial and family influence than to their connexion with
the court, were replaced by men of inferior rank, and of whom all but
four were officials of the Exchequer.[615]
[610] Inquest of sheriffs, cc. 1, 4, 9, 10 (as above, pp.
148–150).
[611] _Ib._ cc. 5, 6, 7 (p. 149).
[612] _Ib._ c. 12 (p. 150).
[613] _Ib._ c. 11 (p. 150).
[614] _Ib._ cc. 2, 3 (pp. 148, 149).
[615] See the list, and Bishop Stubbs’s analysis of it, in his
preface to _Gesta Hen._, vol. ii. p. lxvii, note 3.
This significant proof of Henry’s determination to pursue his
anti-feudal policy was followed up next year by the last step in that
resumption of alienated demesnes which in England had been virtually
completed thirteen years ago, but which had been enforced only by
slower degrees on the other side of the channel. In 1171 Henry ordered
a general inquisition into the extent and condition of the demesne
lands and forests held by his grandfather in Normandy, and into the
encroachments since made upon them by the barons; and we are told
that the restitution which resulted from the inquiry almost doubled
his ducal revenue.[616] The endurance of the barons was now almost at
an end; and moreover, their opportunity had now come. From that same
council at Westminster whence the decree had gone forth for the inquest
of sheriffs, there had gone forth also the summons for the crowning
of the young king; that other assembly which on S. Barnabas’s day saw
the deposition of the delinquent officers saw also, three days later,
the new and dangerously suggestive spectacle of two kings at once in
the land. When, six months later still, the first consequences of that
coronation appeared in the murder of S. Thomas, the barons could not
but feel that their hour was at hand. His regal dignity no longer all
his own, but voluntarily shared with another--his regal unction washed
out in that stream of martyr’s blood which cut him off from the support
of the Church--Henry seemed to be left alone and defenceless in the
face of his foes. The year which he spent in conquering Ireland was a
breathing-space for them as well as for him. They used it to adapt to
their purposes the weapon which he had so lately forged for his own
defence; they found a rallying-point and a pretext for their designs
against him in the very son whom he had left to cover his retreat and
supply his place at home.
[616] Rob. Torigni, a. 1171.
The younger Henry had passed over to Normandy just before his father
quitted it, in July 1171.[617] There he apparently stayed with his
mother and her younger children till the opening of the next year, when
he and his wife went to England, and there remained as titular king
and queen until his father’s return from Ireland.[618] The youth’s
kingship, however, was scarcely more than nominal; in his presence no
less than in his absence, the real work of government in England was
done by the justiciars; and his own personal interests lay chiefly
beyond the sea. The influences which surrounded him there were those of
his father’s open or secret foes:--of his wife’s father, King Louis of
France, of his own mother, Queen Eleanor, her kindred and her people;
and Eleanor had ceased to be a loyal vice-gerent for the husband who
had by this time forfeited his claims to wifely affection from her.
She seems to have taken for her political confidant her uncle, Ralf
of Faye[619]--one of the many faithless barons of Poitou; and it is
said to have been at her instigation that Ralf and an Angevin baron,
Hugh of Ste.-Maure, profited by Henry’s absence in Ireland to whisper
to her eldest son that a crown was worthless without the reality of
kingly power, and that it was time for him to assert his claim to the
substance of which his father had given him only the shadow.[620]
Young Henry, now seventeen years old, listened but too readily to such
suggestions; and it was a rumour of his undutiful temper, coupled
significantly with a rumour of growing discontent among the barons,
that called Henry back from Ireland[621] and made him carry his son
with him to Normandy[622] in the spring of 1172. After the elder king’s
reconciliation with the Church, however, and the second coronation of
the younger one, the danger seemed to have subsided; and in November
Henry, to complete the pacification, allowed his son to accompany his
girl-wife on a visit to her father, the king of France.[623] When they
returned,[624] the young king at once confronted his father with a
demand to be put in possession of his heritage, or at least of some
portion of it--England, Normandy, or Anjou--where he might dwell as an
independent sovereign with his queen.[625] The father refused.[626]
He had never intended to make his sons independent rulers of the
territories allotted to them; Richard and Geoffrey indeed were too
young for such an arrangement to be possible in their cases; and the
object of the eldest son’s crowning had been simply to give him such
an inchoate royalty as would enable his father to employ him as a
colleague and representative in case of need, and to feel assured
of his ultimate succession to the English throne. The king’s plans
for the distribution of his territories and for the establishment of
his children had succeeded well thus far. He had secured Britanny in
Geoffrey’s name before he quitted Gaul in 1171; and a month after his
return, on Trinity Sunday (June 10) 1172, Richard was enthroned as duke
of Aquitaine according to ancient custom in the abbot’s chair in the
church of S. Hilary at Poitiers.[627] One child, indeed, the youngest
of all, was still what his father had called him at his birth--“John
Lackland.”[628] Even for John, however, though he was scarcely five
years old,[629] a politic marriage was already in view.
[617] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 24, note 2.
[618] Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, pp. 162, 166. He kept Christmas
at Bures; Rob. Torigni, a. 1172 (_i.e._ 1171).
[619] Ep. ciii., Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. p. 197. Cf. Ep.
cclxxvii., _ib._ vol. vi. p. 131.
[620] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 350.
[621] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 37 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 285). Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 128, 129.
[622] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 30.
[623] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 34. This writer says
they went over--young Henry much against his will--about All
Saints’ day, and were sent to the king of France both together.
Rob. Torigni, a. 1172, says they crossed at Martinmas, and paid
their visits to Louis separately, Henry at Gisors, Margaret at
Chaumont.
[624] Summoned, it seems, by Henry, “timens fraudem et malitiam
regis Franciæ, quas sæpe expertus fuerat.” _Gesta Hen._ (as
above), p. 35.
[625] _Ib._ p. 41. Cf. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 242.
The _Gesta_ say the demand was made “per consilium regis
Francorum, et per consilium comitum et baronum Angliæ et
Normanniæ, qui patrem suum odio habebant.”
[626] _Gesta Hen._ and Gerv. Cant. as above.
[627] Geoff. Vigeois, l. i. c. 67 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii. p. 318).
[628] “Quartum natu minimum Johannem Sine Terrâ agnominans.”
Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 18 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 146).
[629] There is some doubt as to the date of John’s birth. Rob.
Torigni (_ad ann._) places it in 1167; R. Diceto (Stubbs,
vol. i. p. 325) in 1166. The prose addition to Robert of
Gloucester’s Chronicle (Hearne, vol. ii. p. 484) says that he
was born at Oxford on Christmas Eve. As Eleanor seems to have
been in England at Christmas-tide in both years, this gives us
no help. Bishop Stubbs (Introd. to _W. Coventry_, vol. ii.
p. xvii, note 3) adopts the later date.
One of the many branches of Henry’s continental policy was the
cultivation of an alliance with those small but important states
which lay on the border-land between Italy, Germany, and that old
Aquitanic Gaul over which he claimed dominion in his wife’s name. The
most important of these was the county of Maurienne, a name which in
strictness represents only a small mountainous region encircled to
east and south by the Graian and Cottian Alps, and to west and north
by another chain of mountains bordering the outermost edges of two
river-valleys, those of the Isère and the Arc, which again are severed
from each other by a line of lesser heights running through the heart
of the district. In the southern valley, that of the Arc, stood the
capital of the county, S. Jean-de-Maurienne, the seat of a bishopric
from the dedication of whose cathedral church the town itself took its
name. In the northern valley, at the foot of the Little S. Bernard,
some few miles above the source of the Isère, the counts of Maurienne
were advocates of the abbey of S. Maurice, which long treasured the
sacred symbol of the old Burgundian royalty, the spear of its patron
saint. The power of the counts of Maurienne, however, was not bounded
by the narrow circle of hills which stood like an impregnable rampart
round about their native land. On the shore of the lake of Bourget
they held Chambéry, guarding the pass of Les Echelles, through which
southern Gaul communicated with the German lands around the lake of
Geneva; the county of Geneva itself was almost surrounded by their
territories, for on its western side their sway extended from Chambéry
across the valley of the Rhône northward as far as Belley, while
eastward they held the whole southern shore of the lake. To north-east
of Maurienne, again, the great highway which led from Geneva and from
the German lands beyond it into Italy, through the vale of Aosta by
the passes of the Pennine Alps or up the valley of the Isère by S.
Maurice under the foot of the Little S. Bernard, was in their hands;
for Aosta itself and the whole land as far as Castiglione on the Dora
Baltea belonged to them. Across the Graian Alps, their possession of
the extreme outposts of the Italian border, Susa and Turin, gave them
the title of “Marquises of Italy,”[630] and the command of the great
highway between Italy and southern Gaul by the valley of the Durance
and through the gap which parts the Cottian from the Maritime Alps
beneath the foot of the Mont Genèvre; while yet further south, on
either side of the Maritime Alps where they curve eastward towards the
Gulf of Genoa, Chiusa, Rochetta and Aspromonte all formed part of their
territories.[631] In one word, they held the keys of every pass between
Italy and north-western Europe, from the Great S. Bernard to the Col
di Tenda. Nominally subject to the Emperor in his character of king of
Burgundy, they really possessed the control over his most direct lines
of communication with his Imperial capital; while the intercourse of
western Europe with Rome lay almost wholly at their mercy;[632] and far
away at the opposite extremity of Aquitania the present count Humbert
of Maurienne seems to have claimed, though he did not actually hold,
one of the keys of another great mountain-barrier, in the Pyrenean
county of Roussillon on the Spanish March.[633]
[630] “Comes Maurianensis et Marchio Italiæ” is Count Humbert’s
style in the marriage-contract of his daughter with John:
_Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 36.
[631] All these places are named in the marriage-contract of
John and Alice of Maurienne; _Gesta Hen._ (as above), pp. 36–40.
[632] As says Rob. Torigni, a. 1171: “Nec aliquis potest adire
Italiam, nisi per terram ipsius” [sc. comitis].
[633] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 37. Humbert “concedit eis”
[_i.e._ to John and Alice, in case he himself should have a son
who must oust them from Maurienne] “in perpetuum et hæredibus
eorum Russillun cum toto mandato suo sive pertinentiis suis
omnibus,” as if he actually had it in his own hands. I have
however failed to discover any connexion between Roussillon and
Maurienne.
In 1171[634] Henry’s diplomatic relations with the Alpine princes
bore fruit in a proposal from Humbert of Maurienne for the marriage
of his eldest daughter with the king’s youngest son. Humbert himself
had no son, and by the terms of the marriage-contract his territories,
Alpine and Pyrenean, were to be settled upon his daughter and her
future husband,[635] in return for five thousand marks of English
silver.[636] The contract was signed and ratified before Christmas
1172,[637] and soon afterwards Henry summoned his eldest son to join
him in a journey into Auvergne for a personal meeting with Humbert.
They reached Montferrand before Candlemas, and were there met not only
by Humbert and his daughter but also by the count of Vienne,[638] the
count of Toulouse and the king of Aragon.[639] How high the English
king’s influence had now risen in these southern lands may be judged by
the fact that not only King Alfonso of Aragon, a son of his old ally
Raymond-Berengar, but also his former enemy Raymond of Toulouse, could
agree to choose him as arbiter in a quarrel between themselves.[640]
Raymond in truth saw in Henry’s alliances with Aragon and Maurienne
a death-blow to his own hopes of maintaining the independence of
Toulouse. Hemmed in alike to south and east by close allies of the
English king whose own duchy of Aquitaine surrounded almost the whole
of its north-western border, the house of St.-Gilles felt that it
was no longer possible to resist his claim to overlordship over its
territories. Henry carried his guests back with him to Limoges; there
he settled the dispute between Raymond and Alfonso; and there Raymond
did homage to the two Henrys for Toulouse,[641] promising to do the
like at Whitsuntide to Richard as duke of Aquitaine, and pledging
himself to military service and yearly tribute.[642]
[634] Rob. Torigni _ad ann._
[635] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 36–40.
[636] _Ib._ p. 36.
[637] Rog. Howden (Stubbs, vol. ii. p. 44), in copying from the
_Gesta Hen._ (as above, p. 40) an account of the ratification
of the contract, heads the paragraph “De adventu nunciorum
comitis Mauriensis _in Angliam_.” If he is right, it must have
taken place in April; but he may mean only “to the king of
England.”
[638] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 353.
[639] _Ibid._ _Gesta Hen._ (as above), pp. 35, 36.
[640] This seems to be the meaning of _Gesta Hen._ (as above),
p. 36: “Venerunt etiam illuc ad regem rex Arragoniæ et comes de
S. Ægidio, qui inimici erant ad invicem, et rex duxit eos secum
usque Limoges, et ibi pacem fecit inter eos.”
[641] _Ibid._ Rog. Howden (as above), p. 45. R. Diceto, as
above, says only “fecit homagium regi Anglorum Henrico patri
regis Henrici.” Geoff. Vigeois, l. i. c. 67 (Labbe, _Nova
Biblioth._, vol. ii. p. 319), gives the date, the first Sunday
in Lent, February 25.
[642] _Gesta Hen._ as above. “Sed quia Ricardus dux Aquitaniæ,
cui facturus esset homagium comes S. Egidii, præsens non erat,
usque ad octavas Pentecostes negotii complementum dilationem
accepit,” says R. Diceto (Stubbs, vol. i. pp. 353, 354). The
_Gesta_ and Rog. Howden make Raymond do homage to the two
Henrys and to Richard all at once. They alone give full details
of the services promised.
The infant heiress of Maurienne was now placed under the care of
her intended father-in-law;[643] Henry’s political schemes seemed
to have all but reached their fulfilment, when suddenly Count
Humbert asked what provision Henry intended to make for the little
landless bridegroom to whom he himself was giving such a well-dowered
bride.[644] That question stirred up a trouble which was never again to
be laid wholly to rest till the child who was its as yet innocent cause
had broken his father’s heart. Henry proposed to endow John with the
castles and territories of Chinon, Loudun and Mirebeau.[645] But the
Angevin lands, with which the younger Henry had been formally invested,
could not be dismembered without his consent; and this he angrily
refused.[646] The mere request, however, kindled his smouldering
discontent into a flame[647] which seems to have been fanned rather
than quenched by the suggestions of Eleanor; yet so blind was the
indulgent father that, if we may venture to believe the tale, nothing
but a warning from Raymond of Toulouse opened his eyes to the danger
which threatened him from the plots of his own wife and children. Then,
by Raymond’s advice, he started off at once with a small escort, under
pretence of a hunting-party,[648] and carried his son back towards
Normandy with the utmost possible speed. They reached Chinon about
Mid-Lent; thence young Henry slipped away secretly by night to Alençon;
his father flew after him, but when he reached Alençon on the next
evening the son was already at Argentan; and thence before cock-crow he
fled again over the French border, to the court of his father-in-law
King Louis.[649] Henry in vain sent messengers to recall him: “Your
master is king no longer--here stands the king of the English!” was the
reply of Louis to the envoys.[650]
[643] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 36.
[644] _Ib._ p. 41.
[645] _Ibid._ Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 242, turns these
into “tria castella in Normanniâ.”
[646] _Ibid._
[647] According to Rob. Torigni, a. 1173, the young king was
further offended because his father removed from him some of
his favourite counsellors and friends, Hasculf of St. Hilaire
and some other young knights.
[648] Geoff. Vigeois, l. i. c. 67 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii. p. 319).
[649] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), pp. 41, 42. R. Diceto (as
above), p. 355. The chronology is here in great confusion. The
_Gesta_ tell us that the two kings reached Chinon just before
Mid-Lent (which in 1173 was on March 16), that young Henry was
next day at Alençon, the day after that at Argentan, and that
on the third night, “circa gallicantum,” he went off again,
“octavâ Idus Martii, feriâ quintâ ante mediam Quadragesimam.”
(In the printed edition by Bishop Stubbs--vol. i. p. 42--the
word _mediam_ has been accidentally omitted; see note to his
edition of R. Diceto, vol. ii. pref. p. xxxvi, note 6). It is
of course impossible to make anything of such a contradiction
as this. On the other hand, R. Diceto gives only one date, that
of the young king’s flight from Argentan, which he places on
March 23. Now in 1173 March 23 was the Friday after Mid-Lent
Sunday. Reckoning backwards from this--_i.e._ from the night of
Thursday-Friday, March 22–23, for it is plain that the flight
took place before daybreak--we should find the young king at
Alençon on Wednesday, March 21, and at Chinon on Tuesday, March
20; that is, four days after Mid-Lent. It looks very much as
if the author or the scribe of the _Gesta_ had written “ante”
instead of “post” twice over.
[650] Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 27 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 170).
Henry at once made a circuit of his Norman fortresses, especially those
which lay along the French border, put them in a state of defence, and
issued orders to all his castellans in Anjou, Britanny, Aquitaine and
England, to do the like.[651] Before Lent had closed the old prophecy
which Henry’s enemies were never weary of casting in his teeth was
fulfilled: his own “lion-cubs” were all openly seeking to make him
their prey.[652] Whether sent by their mother, with whom they had
been left behind in Aquitaine, or secretly fetched by their eldest
brother in person,[653] both Richard and Geoffrey now joined him at the
French court.[654] Eleanor herself was caught trying to follow them
disguised as a man, and was by her husband’s order placed in strict
confinement.[655] Louis meanwhile openly espoused the cause of the
rebels; in a great council at Paris he and his nobles publicly swore
to help the young king and his brothers against their father to the
utmost of their power, while the three brothers on their part pledged
themselves to be faithful to Louis, and to make no terms with their
father save through his mediation and with his consent.[656] Young
Henry at once began to purchase allies among the French feudataries
and supporters among the English and Norman barons, by making grants
of pensions and territories on both sides of the sea: grants for which
the recipients did him homage and fealty,[657] and which he caused to
be put in writing and sealed with a new seal made for him by order of
Louis[658]--his own chancellor, Richard Barre, having loyally carried
back the original one to the elder king who had first intrusted it to
his keeping.[659]
[651] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 42.
[652] See the quotation from Merlin’s prophecy, and the comment
on it, _ib._ pp. 42, 43.
[653] The first is the version of the _Gesta Hen._ (as above);
the second that of Will. Newb. (as above, pp. 170, 171).
[654] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 42. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol.
i. p. 355. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 242.
[655] Gerv. Cant. as above. He adds a comment: “Erat enim
prudens femina valde, nobilibus orta natalibus, sed instabilis.”
[656] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 44.
[657] See the list, _ib._ pp. 44, 45; and cf. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 243.
[658] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), pp. 43 and 45.
[659] _Ib._ p. 43.
Nearly three months passed away before war actually broke out; but
when the outburst came, the list of those who were engaged in it shews
that the whole Angevin empire had become a vast hotbed of treason;
though, on the other hand, it shews also that the treason was almost
entirely confined to one especial class. Its local distribution, too,
is significant. The restless barons of Aquitaine, still smarting
under their defeat of 1169, were but too eager, at the instigation of
their duchess and their newly-crowned duke, to renew their struggle
against the king. Foremost among them were, as before, the count of
Angoulême,[660] the nobles of Saintonge, and Geoffrey of Lusignan,
beside whom there stood this time his young brother Guy, now to begin
in this ignoble strife a career destined to strange vicissitudes in
far-off Palestine.[661] The heart of the old Angevin lands, Anjou
itself, was in the main loyal; we find there the names of only five
traitors; and three of these, Hugh, William and Jocelyn of Ste.-Maure,
came of a rebellious house, and were only doing over again what their
predecessors had done in the days of Geoffrey Plantagenet’s youth.[662]
The same may be said of Henry’s native land, Maine; this too furnished
only seven barons to the traitor’s cause; and five of these again
are easily accounted for. It was almost matter of course that in
any rising against an Angevin count the lord of Sablé should stand
side by side with the lord of Ste.-Maure. Brachard of Lavardin had a
fellow-feeling with undutiful sons, for he was himself at strife with
his own father, Count John of Vendôme, a faithful ally of Henry II.;
the same was probably the case of Brachard’s brother Guy.[663] Bernard
of La Ferté represented a family whose position in their great castle
on the Huisne, close to the Norman border, was almost as independent
as that of their neighbours the lords of Bellême, just across the
frontier. Hugh of Sillé bore a name which in an earlier stage of
Cenomannian history--in the days of the “commune,” just a hundred years
before--had been almost a by-word for feudal arrogance; and whether or
not he inherited anything of his ancestor’s spirit, he had a personal
cause for enmity to the king if, as is probable, he was akin to a
certain Robert of Sillé, whose share in the southern revolt of 1169 was
punished by Henry, in defiance of treaties, with an imprisonment so
strict and cruel that it was speedily ended by death.[664]
[660] _Ib._ p. 47.
[661] _Ib._ p. 46. The other Aquitanian rebels, besides the
count of Angoulême and the two Lusignans, were Geoffrey of
Rancogne, the lords of Coulonges and Rochefort in Saintonge,
of Blaye (“Robertus de Ble”--this might possibly be Blet in
Berry) and Mauléon in Gascony, and of Chauvigny in Poitou, with
Archbishop William of Bordeaux and Abbot Richard of Tournay
(_ib._ pp. 46, 47); to whom we may add Ralf of Faye.
[662] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 46, 47. The other
Angevin rebels are Vivian and Peter of Montrévault: to whom may
be added John of Lignières and Geoffrey of La Haye in Touraine.
_Ibid._ p. 46.
[663] _Ib._ pp. 47, 63.
[664] “Robertum de Selit quâdam occasione captum rex Henricus
crudeliter ferro indutum, pane arcto atque aquâ breve cibavit
donec defecit.” Geoff. Vigeois, l. i. c. 66 (Labbe, _Nova
Biblioth._, vol. ii. p. 318). “Robertus de Silliaco redeat in
mentem ... quem nec pacis osculum publice datum, nec fides
corporaliter regi Francorum præstita, fecit esse securum.” Ep.
dcx., Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii. p. 178. Cf. Epp. dcvi.,
dcxliv., _ib._ pp. 165, 247. The other Cenomannian rebels are
Gwenis of Palluau and Geoffrey of Brulon; _Gesta Hen._ (as
above), p. 46.
Across the western border of Maine, in Geoffrey’s duchy, Ralf of
Fougères was once more at the head of a band of discontented Breton
nobles, chiefly, it seems, belonging to that old seed-plot of
disturbance, the county of Nantes.[665] The true centre and focus
of revolt, however, was as of old the duchy of Normandy. Almost all
the great names which have been conspicuous in the earlier risings of
the feudal baronage against the repressive policy of William and of
Henry I. re-appear among the partizans of the young king. The house of
Montfort on the Rille was represented by that Robert of Montfort[666]
whose challenge to Henry of Essex ten years before had deprived the
king of one of his most trusty servants. The other and more famous
house of Montfort--the house of Almeric and of Bertrada--was also,
now as ever, in opposition in the person of its head, Count Simon of
Evreux.[667] He, like his fellow-traitor the count of Eu,[668] to whom,
as after-events shewed, may be added the count of Aumale, represented
one of those junior branches of the Norman ducal house which always
resented most bitterly the determination of the dukes to concentrate
all political power in their own hands. The counts of Ponthieu[669]
and of Alençon[670] inherited the spirit as well as the territories of
Robert of Bellême. Count Robert of Meulan[671] was the son of Waleran
who in 1123 had rebelled against Henry I., and the head of the Norman
branch of the great house of Beaumont, which for more than half a
century had stood in the foremost rank of the baronage on both sides of
the sea. The chief of the English Beaumonts was his cousin and namesake
of Leicester, soon to prove himself an unworthy son of the faithful
justiciar who had died in 1168; while the countess of Leicester, a
woman of a spirit quite as determined and masculine as her husband’s,
was the heiress of the proud old Norman house of Grandmesnil[672]--a
granddaughter of that Ivo of Grandmesnil who had been banished by Henry
I. for trying to bring into England the Norman practice of private
warfare. Of the other English rebels, Hugh of Chester[673] was a son
of the fickle Ralf, and had at stake besides his palatine earldom in
England his hereditary viscounties of Bayeux and Avranches on the other
side of the Channel. Hugh Bigod, the aged earl of Norfolk, untaught
by his experiences of feudal anarchy in Stephen’s day and undeterred
by his humiliation in 1157, was ready to break his faith again for
a paltry bribe offered him by the young king.[674] Earl Robert of
Ferrers, Hamo de Massey, Richard de Morville, and the whole remnant
of the great race of Mowbray--Geoffrey of Coutances, Roger de Mowbray
and his two sons--were all men whose grandfathers had “come over with
the Conqueror,” and determined to fight to the uttermost for their
share in the spoils of the conquest. All these men were, by training
and sympathy, if not actually by their own personal and territorial
interests, more Norman than English; and the same may probably be said
of the rebels of the second rank, among whom, beside the purely Norman
lords of Anneville and Lessay in the Cotentin, of St.-Hilaire on the
Breton frontier, of Falaise, Dives, La Haye and Orbec in Calvados, of
Tillières, Ivry and Gaillon along the French border, we find the names
of Ralf of Chesney, Gerald Talbot, Jordan Ridel, Thomas de Muschamp,
Saher de Quincy the younger, Simon of Marsh, Geoffrey Fitz-Hamon, and
Jocelyn Crispin, besides one which in after-days was to gain far other
renown--William the Marshal.[675]
[665] Hardwin of Fougerai, Robert of Tréguier, Gwiounon of
Ancenis, Joibert of La Guerche; _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i.
pp. 46, 47. To these we afterwards find added several others;
_ib._ pp. 57, 58.
[666] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 45.
[667] _Ib._ p. 47.
[668] _Ib._ p. 45.
[669] _Ibid._
[670] Called simply “William Talvas” in the _Gesta Hen._
(as above), p. 46, and “John count of Sonnois” by R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 371. John was his real name.
[671] _Gesta Hen._ and R. Diceto, as above.
[672] Rob. Torigni, a. 1168.
[673] R. Diceto, as above.
[674] Young Henry promised him, and received his homage for,
the hereditary constableship of Norwich castle; _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 45. This writer adds the honour of Eye;
Rog. Howden, however (Stubbs, vol. ii. p. 46), says this was
granted to Matthew of Boulogne.
[675] All these names are given in the list of the young
king’s partizans in _Gesta Hen._ (as above), pp. 45–48. The
remaining names are: William de Tancarville the chamberlain
of Normandy, of whom more presently; Eudo, William, Robert,
Oliver and Roland Fitz-Erneis (see _Liber Niger_, Hearne,
pp. 142, 295, and Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, pp. 186 and 251);
Robert of Angerville (he seems to have been the young king’s
steward or seneschal--see quotations from Pipe Roll a. 1172
in Eyton, as above, pp. 166, 167, 168); Solomon Hostiarius
(probably also an attendant of young Henry); Gilbert and Ralf
of Aumale: “Willelmus Patricius senior” (he appears in Pipe
Rolls 3 Hen. II., Hunter, p. 81, 4 Hen. II., p. 118--Berks
and Wilts); William Fitz-Roger (Pipe Roll 4 Hen. II., p.
172, Hants); Robert “de Lundres” (is this some mighty London
citizen?); Peter of St.-Julien (may be either St.-Julien in
Gascony, in eastern Touraine, or in the county of Nantes); Hugh
“de Mota” (La Mothe on the lower Garonne, La Motte Archard in
the county of Nantes, or La Motte de Ger in Normandy); Robert
of Mortagne (possibly the Norman Mortagne, possibly a place of
the same name in Anjou close to the Poitevin border); William
of “Tibovilla” (probably Thiberville in the county and diocese
of Lisieux); John and Osbert “de Praellis” (possibly Pradelles
in Auvergne, more likely Préaux in Normandy); Almeric Turel,
Robert Bussun, Guy of Curtiran, Fulk Ribule, Adam de Ikobo,
Robert Gerebert, William Hagullun, Baldric of Baudemont,
Geoffrey Chouet, “Bucherius,” and William de Oveneia, whom I
cannot identify.
One other rebel there was who stood indeed on a different footing from
all the rest, and whose defection had a wider political significance.
The king of Scots--William the Lion, brother and successor of Malcolm
IV.--had long been suspected of a secret alliance with France against
his English cousin and overlord. The younger Henry now offered him
the cession of all Northumberland as far as the Tyne for himself, and
for his brother David confirmation in the earldom of Huntingdon,[676]
with a grant of the earldom of Cambridge in addition, in return for
the homage and services of both brothers:--offers which the king of
Scots accepted.[677] Only three prelates, on either side of the sea,
shewed any disposition to countenance the rebellion; in the south,
William, the new-made archbishop of Bordeaux;[678] in the north, Arnulf
of Lisieux[679] and Hugh of Durham. Arnulf’s influence at court had
long been on the wane; all his diplomacy had failed, as far as his
personal interest with King Henry was concerned; but he possessed the
temporal as well as the spiritual lordship of his see; and the man’s
true character now shewed itself at last, justifying all Henry’s
suspicions, in an attempt to play the part of a great baron rather
than of a bishop--to use his diplomatic gifts in temporizing between
the two parties, instead of seeking to make peace between them or
to keep his straying flock in the path of loyalty as a true pastor
should. He did but imitate on a smaller scale and under less favourable
conditions the example set by Hugh of Puiset in his palatine bishopric
of Durham, where he had been throughout his career simply a great
temporal ruler, whose ecclesiastical character only served to render
almost unassailable the independence of his political position. It
was the pride of the feudal noble, not the personal sympathies of the
churchman, that stirred up both Hugh and Arnulf to their intrigues
against Henry. Personal sympathies indeed had as yet little share
in drawing any of the barons to the side of the boy-king. What they
saw in his claims was simply a pretext and a watchword which might
serve them to unite against his father. Young Henry himself evidently
relied chiefly on his foreign allies--his father-in-law, the counts
of Flanders and Boulogne, and the count of Blois, the last of whom
was bribed by a promise of an annual pension and the restitution of
Château-Renaud and Amboise; while to Philip of Flanders was promised
the earldom of Kent with a pension in English gold, and to Matthew
of Boulogne the soke of Kirton-in-Lindsey and the Norman county of
Mortain.[680]
[676] To which, as will be seen later, there was a rival
claimant who adhered to Henry II.
[677] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 45. Jordan Fantosme,
vv. 268, 269 (Michel, p. 14) adds Carlisle and Westmoreland
to the young king’s offers, and relates at great length how
William hesitated before accepting them, how he sent envoys
to the elder king begging for a new cession of Northumberland
from him, and only upon Henry’s defiant refusal, and after long
debate with his own barons, entered upon the war. _Ib._ vv.
372–426 (pp. 14–22).
[678] “Willelmus archiepiscopus.” _Gesta Hen._ (as above),
p. 47. This can be no one else than William, formerly abbot
of Reading, appointed to Bordeaux in February 1173; Geoff.
Vigeois, l. i. c. 67 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._, vol. ii. p.
319); but I find no further account of his political doings.
[679] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 51, note 4.
[680] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 44, 45. Roger of
Howden, as has been said above (p. 139, note 1), adds the
honour of Eye to Matthew’s intended possessions.
The first hostile movement was made directly after Easter by a body of
Flemings who crossed the Seine at Pacy; but they had no sooner touched
Norman soil than they were driven back by the people of the town, and
were nearly all drowned in attempting to recross the river.[681] Henry
meanwhile, after spending Easter at Alençon,[682] had established
his head-quarters at Rouen, where he remained till the end of June,
apparently indifferent to the plots that were hatching around him,
and entirely absorbed in the pleasures of the chase.[683] In reality
however he was transacting a good deal of quiet business, filling
up vacant sees in England;[684] appointing a new chancellor, Ralf
of Varneville, to the office which had been in commission--that is,
virtually, in the hands of Geoffrey Ridel--ever since S. Thomas had
resigned it ten years before;[685] and writing to all his continental
allies to enlist their sympathies and if possible their support in
the coming struggle.[686] One of them at least, his future son-in-law
William of Sicily, returned an answer full of hearty sympathy;[687]
neither he nor his fellow-kings, however, had anything more substantial
to give. The only support upon which Henry could really depend was that
of a troop of twenty thousand Brabantine mercenaries, who served him
indeed bravely and loyally, but by no means for nothing;[688] and if
we may trust a writer who, although remote from the present scene of
action, seems to have had a more intimate acquaintance than most of
his fellow-historians with all matters connected with the Brabantines,
Henry’s finances were already so exhausted that he was obliged to give
the sword of state used at his coronation in pledge to these men as
security for the wages which he was unable to pay them.[689] Yet he
could trust no one else in Normandy; and as yet he scarcely knew his
own resources in England.
[681] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 367. He says they were
drowned because the bridge was “a quâdam mulierculâ effractus.”
[682] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 45.
[683] “Rex pater eo tempore morabatur Rothomagi, ut populo
videbatur æquo animo ferens quæ fiebant in terrâ; frequentius
solito venatui totus indulgens” [see extracts from Pipe Roll
1173 illustrating this, in Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 173];
“venientibus ad se vultum hylaritatis prætendens, aliquid
extorquere volentibus patienter respondens.” R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 373, 374. Cf. Jordan Fantosme, vv. 118,
119 (Michel, p. 6).
[684] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 366–368. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 243, 245.
[685] R. Diceto (as above), p. 367.
[686] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 47. He says Henry wrote
“_imperatoribus_ et regibus,” which we must take to include the
Eastern Emperor.
[687] Letter in _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 55, note 2;
Rog. Howden (as above), p. 48.
[688] Rog. Howden (as above), p. 47. Cf. Will. Newb., l. ii. c.
27 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 172). The latter does not mention their
number; Jordan Fantosme, v. 67 (Michel, p. 4) makes it only ten
thousand; the _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 51, says “plus quam
decem millia.”
[689] I suppose this to be the meaning of Geoff. Vigeois, l.
i. c. 67 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._, vol. ii. p. 319): “Adeo Rex
multis thesauris exhaustis nauseatus est, ut Brabantionibus
qui ei parebant pro mercede Spatham regiæ coronæ in gagium
mitteret.”
Early in June Robert of Leicester and William of Tancarville, the
high-chamberlain of Normandy, sought license from the justiciars in
London to join the king at Rouen. Immediately on landing, however,
they hastened not to Henry II., but to his son.[690] The justiciar
himself, Richard de Lucy, was in such anxiety that he seems to have
had some thoughts of going in person to consult with the king.[691]
The consultation however was to be held not in Normandy but in
England. In the last days of June or the first days of July, while
the counts of Flanders and Boulogne were easily overcoming the mock
resistance of Aumale and Driencourt, and Louis of France was laying
siege to Verneuil,[692] Henry suddenly crossed the sea, made his way
as far inland as Northampton, where he stayed four days, collected his
treasure and his adherents, issued his instructions for action against
the rebels, and was back again at Rouen so quickly that neither friends
nor foes seem ever to have discovered his absence.[693]
[690] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 370. He gives no date; but
it must have been quite in the beginning of June, for Mr. Eyton
says (_Itin. Hen. II._, p. 172, note 5): “The Dorset Pipe Roll
of Michaelmas 1173 shews that the Earl of Leicester’s manor of
Kingston (now Kingston Lacy) had been confiscated four months
previously (Hutchins, iii. 233).”
[691] “Et in liberacione ix navium quæ debuerunt transfretare
cum Ricardo de Luci, et Ricardo Pictaviæ archidiacono, et
Gaufrido Cantuariensi archidiacono et aliis baronibus, precepto
Regis £13: 15s. per breve Ricardi de Luci.” Pipe Roll a. 1173
(Southampton), quoted by Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 174.
See Mr. Eyton’s comment, _ib._ note 4, which points to the
conclusion that the ships made the voyage--doubtless with the
other passengers--but that Richard “probably thought it wise to
adhere to his post of viceroy.”
[692] R. Diceto (as above), pp. 373, 374. _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 49. Rob. Torigni, a. 1173.
[693] “Et item in liberacione Esnaccæ quando transfretavit
in Normanniam contra Regem £7: 10s. per breve Regis. Et in
liberacione xx. hominum qui fuerunt missi de cremento in
Esnacchâ 40s. per breve Regis. Et in liberacione iv. navium
quæ transfretaverunt cum Esnacchiâ £7: 10s. per idem breve.
Et pro locandis carretis ad reportandum thesaurum de Hantoniâ
ad Wintoniam duabus vicibus 9s. Et pro unâ carretâ locandâ
ad portandas Bulgas Regis ad Winton. 9d.” Pipe Roll a. 1173
(Southampton), quoted in Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 173. “Et
in corredio Regis apud Norhanton per iv dies £32: 6: 5 per
breve Regis.” Northampton, _ibid._ “Et in soltis per breve
Regis ipsi vicecomiti [of Northamptonshire] £72: 11: 9, pro
robbâ quam invenit Regi.” _Ibid._ On the Southampton entries
Mr. Eyton remarks: “The above charges, from their position on
the roll, would seem to have been incurred after July 15.”
But surely if Henry had been in England during the siege of
Leicester, which lasted from July 3 to July 28, we must have
had some mention of his presence; and there is scarcely time
for it later, between the capture of Leicester and his own
expedition to Conches on August 7. Is it not much more natural
to conclude that the visit took place earlier--at the end of
June--and that the orders for the Leicester expedition, which
Rog. Wend. (Coxe, vol. ii. p. 372) expressly says were given
by the king, were issued to Richard de Lucy in a personal
interview?
Hurried, however, as was the king’s visit to England, it did its work
in bracing up the energies and determining the action of the vassals
who were faithful to him there. In personal and territorial importance
indeed these were very unequally matched with the rebels. The fidelity
of the Welsh princes, David Ap-Owen and Rees Ap-Griffith,[694] could
not balance the hostility of the King of Scots. Among the loyal English
barons, the most conspicuous were a group of the king’s immediate
kinsmen, none of whom however ranked high among the descendants of the
ducal house of Normandy:--his half-brother Earl Hameline of Warren,
his uncle Reginald of Cornwall, his cousin William of Gloucester;[695]
besides Earl William of Arundel the husband of his grandfather’s widow
Queen Adeliza, his son William, and his kinsman Richard of Aubigny. The
earl of Essex, William de Mandeville, was a son of that Geoffrey de
Mandeville who had accepted the earldom of Essex from both Stephen and
Matilda, and who had been one of the worst evil-doers in the civil war;
but the son was as loyal as the father was faithless; he seems indeed
to have been a close personal friend of the king, and to have well
deserved his friendship.[696] The loyalty of Earl Simon of Northampton
may have been quickened by his rivalry with David of Scotland for the
earldom of Huntingdon. That of William of Salisbury was an inheritance
from his father, Earl Patrick, who had earned his title by his services
to the Empress, and had fallen honourably at his post of governor of
Aquitaine in the rising of 1168. The loyal barons of lesser degree are
chiefly representatives of the class which half a century before had
been known as the “new men”--men who had risen by virtue of their
services in the work of the administration, either under Henry himself
or under his grandfather. Such were the justiciar Richard de Lucy
and the constable Humfrey de Bohun; William de Vesci, son of Eustace
Fitz-John, and like his father a mighty man in the north; his nephew
John, constable of Chester;--the whole house of Stuteville, with Robert
de Stuteville the sheriff of Yorkshire at its head;[697]--and Ralf
de Glanville,[698] sheriff of Lancashire, custodian of the honour of
Richmond,[699] and destined in a few years to wider fame as the worthy
successor of Richard de Lucy. The Glanvilles, the Stutevilles and the
de Vescis now wielded in Yorkshire as the king’s representatives the
influence which had been usurped there by William of Aumale before his
expulsion from Holderness; while in Northumberland a considerable share
of the power formerly exercised by the rebellious house of Mowbray had
passed to servants of the Crown such as Odelin de Umfraville[700] and
Bernard de Bailleul,[701] whose name in its English form of Balliol
became in after-times closely associated with that borne by two other
loyal northern barons--Robert and Adam de Bruce.[702] To the same class
of “new men” belonged Geoffrey Trussebut, Everard de Ros, Guy de Vere,
Bertram de Verdon, Philip de Kime and his brother Simon.[703]
[694] In _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 51, note 4, the
names are given as “David et Evayn reges Walliæ”--a blunder
probably caused by the writer’s greater familiarity with David,
owing to his later family alliance with the English king. In
the present war, however, Rees proved the more active ally of
the two, as we shall see later.
[695] It will however appear later that Gloucester’s fidelity
was somewhat doubtful.
[696] William de Mandeville is constantly found, throughout his
life, in the king’s immediate company. See Eyton, _Itin. Hen.
II. passim._
[697] All these names are in the list in the _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 51, note 4.
[698] _Ib._ p. 65. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 60. Will.
Newb., l. ii. c. 33 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 184).
[699] Escheated on the death of Duke Conan of Britanny.
[700] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 51, note 4, 66.
[701] _Ib._ pp. 65, 66. Will. Newb. as above.
[702] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 51, note 4.
[703] _Ibid._ The Trussebuts, de Roses and de Veres appear
under Henry I. Bertram de Verdon and Philip de Kime were
employed in the Curia Regis and Exchequer under Henry II.; see
Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, pp. 185, 76, 130, etc. Another name
among the loyalists in the _Gesta Hen._ (as above)--that of
Richard Louvetot--seems to have got in by mistake; cf. _ib._ p.
57, where he appears among the rebels at Dol.
Some half-dozen of the king’s English adherents--William of Essex,
William of Arundel, Robert de Stuteville and the elder Saher de Quincy,
besides two who had lately come over from Ireland, Richard of Striguil
and Hugh de Lacy--either returned with him to Rouen or had joined him
there already,[704] thus helping to swell the little group of loyalists
who surrounded him in Normandy. That group contained no Norman baron
of the first rank, and consisted only of a few personal friends and
ministers:--Richard of Hommet the constable of the duchy, with all his
sons and brothers;[705] William de Courcy the seneschal;[706] Richard
Fitz-Count, the king’s cousin;[707] Hugh de Beauchamp[708] and Henry of
Neubourg,[709] sons of the loyal house of Beauchamp which in England
looked to the earl of Warwick as its head; Richard de Vernon and Jordan
Tesson;[710]--while two faithful members of the older Norman nobility,
Hugh of Gournay and his son, had already fallen prisoners into the
hands of the young king.[711] It was in truth Henry’s continental
dominions which most needed his presence and that of all the forces
which he could muster; for the two chief English rebels, the earls of
Leicester and Chester, were both beyond the Channel, and their absence
enabled the king’s representatives to strike the first blow before the
revolt had time to break forth in England at all. On July 3 the town of
Leicester was besieged by Richard de Lucy and Earl Reginald of Cornwall
at the head of “the host of England.”[712] After a three weeks’ siege
and a vast expenditure of money and labour,[713] the town was fired,
and on July 28 it surrendered.[714] The castle still held out, its
garrison accepting a truce until Michaelmas; the gates and walls of the
city were at once thrown down; the citizens were suffered to go out
free on payment of a fine of three hundred marks;[715] but it was only
by taking sanctuary in the great abbeys of S. Alban or S. Edmund that
their leaders could feel secure against the vengeance of the king.[716]
[704] Essex and Arundel had both been with him since the very
beginning of the year, for they witnessed the marriage-contract
of John and Alice of Maurienne; _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i.
p. 39. Robert de Stuteville and Saher de Quincy seem to have
been with him in the summer of 1173 (Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._,
p. 174). Hugh de Lacy was at Verneuil, defending it for the
king in July (_Gesta Hen._, vol. i. p. 49); and Richard of
Striguil was of the party which went to its relief in August
(R. Diceto, Stubbs, vol. i. p. 375).
[705] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 51, note 4.
[706] _Ib._ p. 39. Cf. Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, pp. 170, 177.
[707] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 51.
[708] _Ib._ p. 49.
[709] _Ib._ p. 52.
[710] _Ib._ pp. 51, 52.
[711] Hugh of Gournay and his son, with eighty knights, fell
into the young king’s hands, “non tam inimicorum virtuti quam
insidiis intercepti,” quite early in the war; R. Diceto (as
above), p. 369.
[712] “Cum exercitu Angliæ,” _i.e._ the national not the feudal
host. _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 58. The date comes from R.
Diceto (as above), p. 376.
[713] See some illustrations in the Pipe Roll of 1173, as
quoted by Eyton (as above), p. 175.
[714] R. Diceto (as above), p. 376. He seems to make the fire
accidental, and the surrender a consequence of it. In the
_Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 58, the victors seem to fire
the town after they have captured it.
[715] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 376.
[716] Mat. Paris, _Chron. Maj._ (Luard), vol. ii. p. 289.
Three days before the capture of Leicester, an arrow shot by one
of Henry’s Brabantine cross-bowmen gave Matthew of Boulogne his
death-wound, and thereby caused the break-up of the Flemish expedition
against Normandy.[717] A fortnight later Henry set out at the head of
all his available forces to the relief of Verneuil, which Hugh de Lacy
and Hugh de Beauchamp were defending against the king of France. By a
double treachery Louis, under cover of a truce, gained possession of
the town, set it on fire, and retreated into his own domains before
Henry could overtake him.[718] Henry marched back to Rouen, taking
Gilbert of Tillières’s castle of Damville on the way,[719] and thence
despatched his Brabantines to check the plundering operations which
Hugh of Chester and Ralf of Fougères were carrying on unhindered
throughout the border district which lay between Fougères and
Avranches. The interception of an important convoy and the slaughter of
its escort by the Brabantines drove the rebel leaders to retire into
the fortress of Dol. Here they were blockaded by the Brabantines,
backed by the populace of the district of Avranches,[720] who clearly
had no sympathy with the treason of their viscount. The siege began
on August 20; on the morrow Henry received tidings of it at Rouen; on
the 23d he appeared in the midst of his soldiers; and on the 26th Dol
and its garrison, with Ralf of Fougères and Hugh of Chester at their
head, surrendered into his hands.[721] This blow crushed the Breton
revolt; the rest of the duchy submitted at once.[722] Louis of France
was so impressed by Henry’s success that he began to make overtures
for negotiation, while Henry was holding his court in triumph at Le
Mans. Shortly before Michaelmas a meeting took place near Gisors; Henry
shewed the utmost anxiety to be reconciled with his sons, offering
them literally the half of his realms in wealth and honours, and
declaring his willingness virtually to strip himself of everything
except his regal powers of government and justice.[723] That, however,
was precisely the reservation against which the French king and the
disaffected barons were both alike determined to fight as Henry himself
had fought against S. Thomas’s reservation of the rights of his order.
The terms were therefore refused, and the earl of Leicester in his
baffled rage not only loaded his sovereign with abuse, but actually
drew his sword to strike him. This outrage of course broke up the
meeting.[724] Leicester hurried through Flanders, collecting troops
as he went, to Wissant, whence he sailed for England on Michaelmas
day.[725] Landing at Walton in Suffolk, he made his way to Hugh
Bigod’s castle of Framlingham; here the two earls joined their forces;
and they presently took and burned the castle of Haughley, which Ralf
de Broc held against them for the king.[726]
[717] R. Diceto as above, p. 373. He alone gives the date,
attributes the wound to a shot “a quodam marchione,” and places
the scene on the invaders’ march from Driencourt to Arques. The
_Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 49, Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p.
246, and Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 28 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 173)
make it occur during the siege of Driencourt (William calls it
by its more modern name, “Neufchâtel”), but as the former has
told us that this siege began about July 6 and was ended within
a fortnight, this is irreconcileable with the date given by R.
Diceto. Gervase says Matthew was shot “a quodam arcubalistâ.”
[718] See the details of the story, and the disgraceful conduct
of Louis, in _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 51–54; Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 50; R. Diceto as above, p. 375; and
another version in Will. Newb. as above (pp. 174, 175).
[719] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 56.
[720] Rob. Torigni, a. 1173. “Itaque obsessa est turris Doli a
Brebenzonibus et militibus regis et plebe Abrincatinâ.”
[721] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 378; _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 57, 58; Rob. Torigni, a. 1173; Will.
Newb. l. ii. c. 29 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 176). The _Gesta Hen._
gives the date, and a list of the captured. According to Rob.
Torigni, Ralf of Fougères escaped to the woods, and his two
sons were taken as hostages. The Chron. S. Albin. a. 1173
(Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 42), says he was taken, together
with Hugh (whom the Angevin monk transforms into “comitem
Sceptrensem”) and a hundred knights.
[722] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 52.
[723] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 59. Rog. Howden as above, p. 53.
[724] Rog. Howden as above, p. 54.
[725] R. Diceto as above, p. 377. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol.
i. p. 246, and _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 60, say he came
over about S. Luke’s day; but this is irreconcileable with
R. Diceto’s careful and minute chronology of the subsequent
campaign. R. Niger (Anstruther), p. 175, says “in vigiliâ S.
Mauricii,” _i.e._ September 20.
[726] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 60, 61, with an
impossible date; see _ib._ p. 60, note 12. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 246. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 377,
gives the correct date of the capture of Haughley, October 13.
[Illustration: Map IV.
Map to Illustrate the REBELLION of 1173–1174.
_Royal Strongholds underlined thus: Alnwick._
Rebel Stronholds:
(S) _Scottish_.
(H D) _Hugh of Durham_.
(M) _Mowbrays_.
(H B) _Hugh Bigod_.
(H C) _Hugh of Chester_.
(H M) _Hamo de Massey_.
(R M) _Richard de Morville_.
(R L) _Robert of Leicester_.
(R F) _Robert of Ferrers_.
Wagner & Debes’ Geogˡ. Estabᵗ. Leipsic. London, Macmillan & Co.
]
At the moment of Leicester’s arrival the representatives of the king
were far away on the Scottish border. At the close of the summer
William of Scotland had gathered his motley host of Lowland knights and
wild Galloway Highlanders, marched unhindered through the territories
of the see of Durham, and was just beginning to ravage Yorkshire
after the manner of his forefathers when Richard de Lucy and Humfrey
de Bohun hastily reassembled their forces and marched against him
with such promptitude and vigour that he was compelled to retreat not
merely into Lothian but into the safer shelter of the Celtic Scotland
beyond it. The English host overran Lothian,[727] and had just given
Berwick to the flames when tidings reached them of Earl Robert’s
doings in Suffolk. The king of Scots was begging for a truce; the
English leaders readily consented, that they might hurry back to their
duties in the south.[728] Richard de Lucy returned to his post of
viceroy, and the supreme military command was left to the constable
Humfrey de Bohun, assisted by the earls of Cornwall and Gloucester
and by Earl William of Arundel,[729] who had now come to give the
help of his sword in England as he had already given it in Normandy.
The constable and the three earls, with three hundred paid soldiers
of the king, posted themselves at S. Edmund’s, ready to intercept
Earl Robert on his way from Framlingham to join the garrison of
Leicester.[730] He made a circuit to the northward to avoid them, but
in vain. They marched forth from S. Edmund’s beneath the banner of its
patron saint, the famous East-Anglian king and martyr, overtook the
earl in a marsh near the church of S. Geneviève at Fornham,[731] and
in spite of overwhelming odds defeated him completely. His Flemish
mercenaries, who had gone forth in their insolent pride singing “Hop,
hop, Wilekin! England is mine and thine,”[732] were cut to pieces not
so much by the royal troops as by the peasantry of the district, who
flocked to the battle-field armed with forks and flails, with which
they either despatched them at once or drove them to suffocation
in the ditches.[733] His French and Norman knights were all made
prisoners;[734] he himself took to flight, but was overtaken and
captured;[735] and his wife, who had accompanied him throughout his
enterprise, was made captive with him.[736] The victors followed up
their success by posting bodies of troops at S. Edmund’s, Ipswich
and Colchester, hoping that Hugh Bigod, thus confined within his own
earldom, would be unable to provide for the large force of Flemish
mercenaries still quartered in his various castles, and that these
would be starved into surrender. The approach of winter however
disposed both parties for a compromise; a truce was arranged to last
till the octave of Pentecost, Hugh consenting to dismiss his Flemings,
who were furnished with a safe-conduct through Essex and Kent and with
ships to transport them from Dover back to their own land.[737]
[727] R. Diceto as above, p. 376. Cf. _Gesta Hen._ as above, p.
61.
[728] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 61. R. Diceto as above, p.
376. Jordan Fantosme, vv. 478–838 (Michel, pp. 22–38), has a
long account of this first Scottish invasion, but it is far
from clear, and some parts of it, _e.g._ the statement that
Warkworth was taken by the Scots, seem incompatible with
after-events.
[729] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[730] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 377. _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 61. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 54.
[731] _Gesta Hen._ as above. Rog. Howden (as above), p. 55. The
date, according to R. Diceto (as above, p. 378) is October 17;
the _Gesta_ (as above, p. 62) make it October 16.
[732] Mat. Paris, _Hist. Angl._ (Madden), vol. i. p. 381.
“Hoppe, hoppe, Wilekin, hoppe, Wilekin, Engelond is min ant
tin.”
[733] Jordan Fantosme, vv. 1086–1091 (Michel, p. 50).
[734] R. Diceto as above, pp. 377, 378. _Gesta Hen._ as above,
pp. 61, 62. Rog. Howden as above, p. 55. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 246. Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 30 (Howlett, vol. i.
p. 179). The number of Robert’s Flemish troops is surely
exaggerated by all these writers; still, even at the lowest
computation, the odds seem to have been, as R. Diceto says, at
least four to one.
[735] Gerv. Cant. as above.
[736] Will. Newb. as above. R. Diceto as above, p. 378. She
had been with her husband in France, and returned with him
to England; _ib._ p. 377. According to Jordan Fantosme, vv.
980–992 (Michel, p. 46), it was she who urged him to the march
which led to his ruin, in defiance of his own dread of the
royal forces. See also in Jordan, vv. 1070–1077 (Michel, p.
50) the story of her trying to drown herself in a ditch to
avoid being captured; and that in Mat. Paris, as above, of her
throwing away her ring. This latter seems to be only another
version of Jordan’s; cf. his v. 1072.
[737] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 378. He gives the number
of these Flemings as fourteen hundred.
The earl and countess of Leicester were sent over to Normandy by the
king’s orders, there to be shut up in company with Hugh of Chester in
prison at Falaise.[738] Their capture filled the French king and the
rebel princes with dismay, and none of them dared to venture upon any
opposition against Henry when at Martinmas he led his Brabantines into
Touraine, forced some of its rebellious barons into submission,[739]
reinstated his ally Count John of Vendôme in his capital from which
he had been expelled by his own son,[740] and returned to keep the
Christmas feast at Caen.[741] An attack upon Séez, made at the opening
of the new year by the young king and the counts of Blois, Perche and
Alençon, was repulsed by the townsfolk,[742] and led only to a truce
which lasted till the end of March.[743] The truce made by Richard de
Lucy with the king of Scots was prolonged to the same date--the octave
of Easter--by the diplomacy of Bishop Hugh of Durham, who took upon
himself to purchase this delay, apparently without authority and for
his own private ends, by a promise of three hundred marks of silver
to be paid to the Scot king out of the lands of the Northumbrian
barons.[744]
[738] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 62. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 55. See also quotations from Pipe Roll a.
1173 on this matter, in Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 177.
[739] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 62, 63. The chief rebels were
Geoffrey of La Haye--apparently that same La Haye which had
formed part of the dower-lands of the first countess of Anjou,
and is known now as La Haye Descartes--and Robert of “Ble” (see
above, p. 136, note 6{661}) who held Preuilly and Champigny. A
list of the garrisons of these castles is given; two names are
worth noting--“Hugo le Danais” and “Rodbertus Anglicus.”
[740] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 63.
[741] _Ibid._ Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 246. According
to Rob. Torigni, however (a. 1174--i.e. 1173 in our reckoning)
he kept it at Bures.
[742] R. Diceto as above, p. 379.
[743] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 63, 64.
[744] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 64. King and bishop met
in person at “Revedale”--or, as Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii.
pp. 56, 57, says, “in confinio regnorum Angliæ et Scotiæ apud
Revedene.”
The issue proved that Hugh’s real object was simply to gain time for
the organization of a general rising in the north; and in this object
he succeeded. The old isolation of Yorkshire was not yet a thing of
the past; and its few lines of communication with southern England
were now all blocked, at some point or other, by some stronghold of
rebellion. Earl Hugh’s Chester, Hamo de Massey’s Dunham[745] and
Geoffrey of Coutances’ Stockport commanded the waters of the Dee and
the Mersey. South of the Peak, in the upper valley of the Trent, the
earl of Ferrers held Tutbury and Duffield; further to south-east, on
the opposite border of Charnwood Forest, lay the earl of Leicester’s
capital and his castles of Groby and Mount Sorrel.[746] By the time
that the truce expired Roger de Mowbray had renewed the fortifications
of Kinardferry in the Isle of Axholm,[747] thus linking this southern
chain of castles with those which he already possessed at Kirkby
Malzeard, or Malessart, and Thirsk;[748] and Bishop Hugh had done the
like at Northallerton.[749] Further north stood the great stronghold of
Durham; while all these again were backed, far to the north-westward, by
a double belt of fortresses stretching from the mouths of the Forth and
the Tweed to that of the Solway:--Lauder, held by Richard de Morville;
Stirling, Edinburgh, Berwick, Jedburgh, Roxburgh, Annan and Lochmaben,
all in the hands of the king of Scots.[750]
[745] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 48. Hamo de Massey had another
castle called Ullerwood; where was this?
[746] _Ibid._
[747] _Ib._ p. 64. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 379.
[748] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 48.
[749] Rog. Howden as above, p. 57.
[750] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 48. Annan and Lochmaben
belonged to Robert de Bruce; _ibid._ No doubt William had
seized them when Bruce joined Henry.
Between this northern belt of rebel strongholds, however, and the
southern one which stretched from Chester to Axholm, there lay along
the river-valleys of Cumberland and Northumberland a cluster of royal
castles. Nicolas de Stuteville held Liddell, on the river of the same
name. Burgh[751] stood on the Solway Firth, nearly opposite Annan; the
whole valley of the Eden was guarded by Carlisle, whose castellan was
Richard de Vaux,[752] and Appleby, which like Burgh was held by Robert
de Stuteville for the king.[753] The course of the Tyne was commanded
by Wark, under Roger de Stuteville,[754] Prudhoe, under Odelin de
Umfraville,[755] and by the great royal fortress of Newcastle, in
charge of Roger Fitz-Richard;[756] further north, between the valleys
of the Wansbeck and the Coquet, stood Harbottle, also held by Odelin,
with Roger Fitz-Richard’s Warkworth[757] and William de Vesci’s
Alnwick[758] at the mouths of the Coquet and the Alne. This chain of
defences William of Scotland, when at the expiration of the truce he
again marched into England, at once set himself to break. While his
brother David went to join the rebel garrison of Leicester,[759] he
himself began by laying siege to Wark. This fortress, held in the
king’s name by Roger de Stuteville--apparently a brother of the sheriff
of Yorkshire--occupied a strong position in the upper valley of the
Tyne, on the site of an earlier fortress which under the name of Carham
had played a considerable part in the Scottish wars of Stephen’s
time, and had been finally taken and razed by William’s grandfather
King David in 1138.[760] William himself had already in the preceding
autumn besieged Wark without success;[761] he prospered no better this
time, and presently removed his forces to Carlisle,[762] where he had
also sustained a like repulse six months before.[763] Carlisle, as
well as Wark, was in truth almost impregnable except by starvation;
and William, while blockading it closely, detached a part of his host
for a series of expeditions against the lesser fortresses, Liddell,
Burgh, Appleby, Harbottle and Warkworth, all of which fell into his
hands.[764] His brother’s arrival at Leicester, meanwhile, seemed to
have revived the energies of its garrison; under the command of Earl
Robert of Ferrers they sallied forth very early one morning, surprised
and burned the town of Nottingham, made a great slaughter of its
citizens, and went home laden with plunder and prisoners.[765]
[751] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 65.
[752] _Ib._ p. 64.
[753] _Ib._ p. 65. Jordan Fantosme, v. 1467 (Michel, p. 66),
gives us the name--a very interesting one--of the acting
commandant--“Cospatric le fiz Horm, un viel Engleis fluri.”
[754] Jordan Fantosme, vv. 478–483 (Michel, pp. 22–24).
[755] _Ib._ vv. 594–603 (p. 28), _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[756] Jordan Fantosme, vv. 566, 567 (Michel, p. 26).
[757] _Ib._ vv. 562–565 (p. 26). _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 65.
See above, p. 149, note 3{728}.
[758] Jordan Fantosme, vv. 538, 539 (as above).
[759] _Gesta Hen._ as above. Cf. Jordan Fantosme, vv. 1113–1136
(Michel, p. 52).
[760] See above, vol. i. pp. 287, 292.
[761] Jordan Fantosme, vv. 478–530 (Michel, pp. 22, 26).
[762] _Ib._ vv. 1191–1351 (pp. 54–62).
[763] Jordan Fantosme, vv. 610–760 (pp. 28–36).
[764] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 64, 65. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 60. Will. Newb., l. ii. cc. 30, 31
(Hewlett, vol. i. pp. 177, 180), seems to have confused this
campaign with that of the preceding autumn; and so has,
apparently, Jordan Fantosme, vv. 1145–1511 (Michel, pp.
52–68). “Banesburc” in v. 1158 (p. 54), though it looks like
Bamborough, surely ought to be _Burgh_.
[765] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 69. Nottingham was commanded by
Reginald de Lucy; what relation to the justiciar?
Meanwhile the king’s representatives in the south were not idle.
Knowing however that he was powerless to rescue the north, Richard de
Lucy made an attempt to draw off in another direction the forces both
of the Scot king and of his brother by laying siege to David’s castle
of Huntingdon.[766] Huntingdon had been held ever since 1136 either
by the reigning king of Scots or by one of his nearest kinsmen, in
virtue of their descent from Waltheof, the last Old-English earl of
Huntingdon and Northampton, through his daughter Matilda, the wife
of King David. In each case, however, the fief seems to have been
held not as an hereditary possession but by a special grant made to
the individual holder for his life. The house of Northampton, sprung
from an earlier marriage of the same Matilda, were thus enabled to
maintain a claim upon it which had never been entirely barred, and
which Earl Simon of Northampton now seized his opportunity to urge upon
the king.[767] Henry answered that Simon might keep Huntingdon if he
could win it;[768] thus securing for Richard de Lucy his support and
co-operation in the siege, which began on May 8.[769] Three days before
this, however, a severe blow had been dealt at the northern rebels.
The king’s eldest son Geoffrey, who a year before had been appointed
to the bishopric of Lincoln, gathered up the forces of Lincolnshire,
led them into Axholm and laid siege to Kinardferry. Robert of Mowbray,
who was commanding there, seeing his garrison threatened with the want
of water, slipped out to seek aid of his friends at Leicester, but
was surrounded and made prisoner by the country-folk at Clay.[770]
On May 5 Kinardferry surrendered; after razing it, Geoffrey marched
northward to York; here he was joined by the forces of the archbishop
and of the shire; with this united host he took Mowbray’s castle
of Malessart,[771] closely menaced that of Thirsk by erecting a
rival fortification at Topcliff, and having intrusted the former to
Archbishop Roger and the latter to William de Stuteville, marched
back to Lincoln in triumph.[772] His victory was scarcely won when a
new peril arose in East-Anglia. Three days after Pentecost some three
hundred Flemish soldiers, forerunners of a great host with which Count
Philip of Flanders had sworn to invade England at Midsummer on behalf
of the young king, landed at the mouth of the Orwell.[773] Hugh Bigod,
whose truce with the king’s officers, made when he dismissed his other
Flemish troops in the preceding autumn, expired four days later, at
once received them into his castles.[774] For a whole month, however,
no further movement was made save by the garrison of Leicester, who
after the close of Whitsun-week made a successful plundering raid upon
the town of Northampton.[775] On June 18 Hugh Bigod and his Flemings
marched upon Norwich, took it by assault, committed a vast slaughter
of men and women, and finally sacked and fired the city.[776] They seem
to have returned to Framlingham by way of Dunwich, which was still a
flourishing seaport, of sufficient wealth to tempt their greed; but its
stout fisher-folk met them with such a determined front that they were
compelled to retire.[777]
[766] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 384.
[767] See the story in the tract “De Judithâ uxore Waldevi
comitis,” in M. F. Michel’s _Chroniques Anglo-Normandes_, vol.
ii. pp. 128, 129.
[768] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 71. The case seems to have been
tried in the Curia Regis; _ibid._, and _Chron. Anglo-Norm._, as
above.
[769] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 384.
[770] “A rusticis del Clay.” _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p.
68. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 58, alters “rusticis”
into “hominibus.” The place is perhaps Clay Cross in Derbyshire.
[771] Kirkby or Kirby Malzeard, near Ripon.
[772] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 68, 69. Cf. R. Diceto as
above, and Gir. Cambr., _Vita Galfr. Archiep._, l. i. cc. 2, 3
(Dimock, vol. iv. pp. 364–367).
[773] “Apud Airewellam.” R. Diceto (as above), p. 381.
[774] _Ibid._ Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 247.
[775] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 68.
[776] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 68. R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 381 (to whom we owe the date). Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 248.
[777] Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 30 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 178).
“Insignum vicum maritimum, variis opibus refertum, qui dicitur
Donewich,” he calls it. He gives an account of the entire
East-Anglian campaign, but he has mixed up the doings of this
summer of 1174 with those of the preceding autumn. Jordan
Fantosme, vv. 845–897 (Michel, pp. 40–42), has done the same.
He explains, however, the otherwise unaccountable facility
with which Norwich was taken, by telling us that “Uns traïtres
Lohereng la trahi, pur ço si fud surprise.”
Richard de Lucy was all this while busy with the siege of Huntingdon.
Provoked apparently by a vigorous assault which he made upon it at
midsummer,[778] the garrison set fire to the town; Richard then built
a tower to block their egress from the castle, and left the completion
of the siege to the earl of Northampton.[779] For himself it was time
once more to lay down the knightly sword and resume that of justice.
While the justiciar’s energies were absorbed in warfare with the
barons, the burgher-nobles of the capital had caught from their feudal
brethren the spirit of lawlessness and misrule, and London had become
a vast den of thieves and murderers. Young men, sons and kinsmen of
the noblest citizens, habitually went forth by night in parties of a
hundred or more, broke into rich men’s houses and robbed them by force,
and if they met any man walking in the streets alone, slew him at once.
Peaceable citizens were driven in self-defence to meet violence with
violence. One man, expecting an attack, gathered his armed servants
around him in a concealed corner, surprised his assailants in the
act of breaking into his house with crowbars, struck off with a blow
of his sword the right hand of their leader Andrew Bucquinte, and
raised an alarm which put the rest to flight. Bucquinte was captured
and delivered next morning to the justiciar; on a promise of safety
for life and limb he gave up the names of his accomplices; some fled,
some were caught, and among the latter was one of the noblest and
richest citizens of London, John Oldman,[780] who vainly offered five
hundred marks of silver to the Crown to purchase his escape from
the gallows.[781] The revelation of such a state of things in the
capital apparently drove Richard de Lucy and his colleagues almost to
desperation. They had already sent messenger after messenger to intreat
that the king would return; getting however no certain answer, they now
determined that one of their number should go to Normandy in person to
lay before him an authentic account of the desperate condition of his
realm.[782]
[778] “Appropinquante autem nativitate S. Johannis Baptistæ,
Ricardus de Luci magnum congregavit exercitum et obsedit
castellum de Huntendoniâ.” _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 70. Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 60, substitutes for the first
words “in festo Nativitatis S. Johannis.” This is the first
time that either writer mentions the siege, but see R. Diceto
as above, p. 376.
[779] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 71.
[780] “Johannes Senex.”
[781] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 155, 156. The story is
there told in connexion with that of the murder of a brother of
the earl of Ferrers in 1177, and said to have happened “three
years before.” The wording of the latter part, where it is said
that John “obtulit quingentas marcas argenti _domino regi_ ...
sed ... noluit denarios illos accipere, et præcepit ut judicium
de eo fieret,” seems to imply that the king himself came to
England between the capture of Bucquinte and the execution of
John. In that case the date of the affair would be about June
or July 1174. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 131, mentions
the hanging of John Oldman, but puts it after the murder of De
Ferrers in 1177 and omits the whole story which in the _Gesta_
intervenes, thereby also omitting to shew the true sequence of
events and chronology.
[782] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 381.
Henry had spent the spring in a successful progress through Maine and
Anjou to Poitiers, where he kept the Whitsun feast. He had just rescued
Saintes from a band of rebels who had seized it in Richard’s name[783]
when he was called northward again by a rumour of the Flemish count’s
scheme for the invasion of England. By S. Barnabas’s day he was back
again on the borders of Britanny and Anjou; he took and fortified
Ancenis, and then, leaving Anjou to the charge of a faithful baron,
Maurice of Craon,[784] went to meet the castellans of the Norman border
in a council at Bonneville on Midsummer-day. Their deliberations were
interrupted by the appearance of Richard of Ilchester--now bishop-elect
of Winchester--on his errand from England to recall the king.[785]
Richard’s pleadings however were scarcely needed. Henry knew that
his eldest son was at that very moment with the count of Flanders
at Gravelines, only awaiting a favourable wind to set sail for the
invasion of England,[786] and that, whatever might be the risk to his
continental realms, he must hasten to save the island.[787] He at
once took measures for the security of the Norman castles and for the
transport of those prisoners and suspected persons whom he dared not
venture to leave behind him--his queen,[788] the earl and countess of
Leicester, the earl of Chester,[789] the young queen Margaret,[790]
and the affianced brides of his three younger sons; besides the two
children who were still with him, Jane and John.[791] The wind which
thwarted the designs of his foes was equally unfavourable to him; it
was not till July 7 that he himself embarked at Barfleur, and even then
the peril of crossing seemed so great that the sailors were inclined
to put back. Henry raised his eyes to heaven: “If I seek the peace of
my realm--if the heavenly King wills that my return should restore
its peace--He will bring me safe into port. If He has turned away His
Face from me and determined to scourge my realm, may I never reach its
shores!” By nightfall he was safe[792] at Southampton.[793]
[783] _Ib._ p. 380. Cf. _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 71, and
Chron. S. Albin. a. 1174 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 43).
[784] R. Diceto and _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[785] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 381, 382. Cf. Jordan
Fantosme, vv. 1530–1633 (Michel, pp. 70–74).
[786] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 72. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 61.
[787] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 248. Cf. Will. Newb., l.
ii. c. 32 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 181).
[788] R. Diceto as above, p. 382. _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[789] R. Diceto (as above) has “comitem Cestrensem,
Legecestrensem comitissam”; Mat. Paris, _Chron. Maj._ (Luard),
vol. ii. p. 292, turns this into “comitem Legecestrensem et
comitissam.” We may surely combine the two versions.
[790] R. Diceto and _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[791] R. Diceto as above, p. 382. “Uxores filiorum suorum”
must mean Adela of France, Constance of Britanny and Alice
of Maurienne, all of whom are known to have been in Henry’s
custody.
[792] R. Diceto as above, pp. 382, 383.
[793] _Ib._ p. 383. _Gesta Hen._ as above. Cf. Pipe Roll
a. 1173, quoted by _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 180. R. Niger
(Anstruther), p. 176, puts the voyage two days later.
His first care was to bestow his prisoners and hostages in safe
custody.[794] That done, he set off at once on a pilgrimage to the
grave of his former friend and victim at Canterbury. Travelling with
the utmost speed, and feeding only on bread and water, he reached
Canterbury on July 12; before the church of S. Dunstan, outside the
west gate, he dismounted, exchanged his kingly robes for the woollen
gown of a pilgrim, and made his way with bare and bleeding feet along
the rough-paved streets to the cathedral church. Here, surrounded by
a group of bishops and abbots who seem to have come with him, as well
as by the monks of the cathedral chapter and a crowd of wondering
lay-folk, he threw himself in an agony of penitence and prayer on the
martyr’s tomb, which still stood in the crypt where his body had been
hastily buried by the terrified monks immediately after the murder.
The bishop of London now came forward and spoke in the king’s name,
solemnly protesting that he had never sought the primate’s death, and
beseeching absolution from the assembled prelates for the rash words
which had occasioned it. The absolution was given; the king then
underwent a public scourging at the hands of the bishops and monks;
he spent the whole night in prayer before the shrine; early on the
morrow he heard mass and departed, leaving rich gifts in money and
endowments, and rode back still fasting to London, which he reached on
the following morning.[795] The next few days were spent in collecting
forces, in addition to a large troop of Brabantines whom he had brought
over with him,[796] and in despatching a part of these into Suffolk
against Hugh Bigod; Henry himself lingering another day or two to
recover from his excitement and fatigue.[797]
[794] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 72. Eleanor was placed
at Salisbury (Geoff. Vigeois, l. i. c. 67; Labbe, _Nova Bibl._,
vol. ii. p. 319) in charge of Robert Mauduit; the younger queen
“and the hostages” were sent to Devizes under the care of
Eustace Fitz-Stephen. (Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 180, from
Pipe Roll a. 1173.)
[795] For accounts of the penance see R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol.
i. p. 383; Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 248, 249; _Gesta
Hen._ as above; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 61, 62;
Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 35 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 18); E. Grim
(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), pp. 445–447; Herb. Bosh.
(_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 545–547.
[796] R. Diceto as above, p. 382. _Gesta Hen._ as above. Rob.
Torigni, a. 1174.
[797] Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 35 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 189), says
he stayed in London in order to be bled.
In the middle of the night of July 17 a courier from the north came
knocking wildly for admittance at the palace-gate. The porters
remonstrated with him in vain; he bore, he said, good news which the
king must hear that very night. He hurried to the door of the king’s
chamber, and, despite the expostulations of the chamberlains, made
his way to the bedside and woke the king from his sleep. “Who art
thou?” demanded Henry. “A servant of your faithful Ralf de Glanville,
and the bearer of good tidings from him to you.” “Is he well?” “He
is well; and lo! he holds your enemy the king of Scots in chains at
Richmond castle.” Not till he had seen Ralf’s own letters could Henry
believe the tidings; then he burst into thanksgivings for the crowning
triumph which had come to him, as he now learned, almost at the moment
when his voluntary humiliation at Canterbury was completed.[798]
The garrison of Carlisle had pledged themselves to surrender to the
Scot king at Michaelmas if not previously relieved. In the interval
William laid siege to Odelin de Umfraville’s castle of Prudhoe on
the Tyne.[799] Here he was rejoined by Roger de Mowbray, who came to
intreat the Scot king’s aid in the recovery of his lost castles.[800]
Meanwhile, however, the king’s return had apparently brought with it
the return of the sheriff of Yorkshire, Robert de Stuteville. Under his
leadership and that of his son William the whole military forces of the
shire, with those of William de Vesci, Ralf de Glanville, Bernard de
Balliol and Odelin de Umfraville, and Archbishop Roger’s men under his
constable Ralf de Tilly, gathered and marched northward to oppose the
Scots.[801] They reached Newcastle on July 12[802]--the day of Henry’s
penitential entry into Canterbury--but only to find that on the rumour
of their approach William the Lion had retired from Prudhoe, and was
gone to besiege Alnwick with his own picked followers, while the bulk
of his host, under the earls of Fife and Angus and the English traitor
Richard de Morville, dispersed over all Northumberland to burn, plunder
and slay in the old barbarous Scottish fashion which seems hardly to
have softened since the days of Malcolm Canmore.[803] The English
leaders now held a council of war. Their forces consisted only of a
few hundred knights, all wearied and spent with their long and hurried
march, in which the foot had been unable to keep up with them at all.
The more cautious argued that enough had been done in driving back the
Scots thus far, and that it would be madness for a band of four hundred
men to advance against a host of eighty thousand. Bolder spirits,
however, urged that the justice of their cause must suffice to prevail
against any odds; and it was decided to continue the march to Alnwick.
They set out next morning before sunrise; the further they rode, the
thicker grew the mist; some proposed to turn back. “Turn back who
will,” cried Bernard de Balliol, “if no man will follow me, I will go
on alone, rather than bear the stain of cowardice for ever!” Every one
of them followed him; and when at last the mist cleared away, the first
sight that met their eyes was the friendly castle of Alnwick. Close
beside it lay the king of Scots, carelessly playing with a little band
of some sixty knights. Never dreaming that the English host would dare
to pursue him thus far, he had sent out all the rest of his troops on
a plundering expedition, and at the first appearance of the enemy he
took them for his own followers returning with their spoils. When they
unfurled their banners he saw at once that his fate was sealed. The
Scottish Lion, however, proved worthy of his name, and his followers
proved worthy of their leader. Seizing his arms and shouting, “Now it
shall be seen who are true knights!” he rushed upon the English; his
horse was killed, he himself was surrounded and made prisoner, and so
were all his men.[804] Roger de Mowbray and Adam de Port, an English
baron who had been outlawed two years before for an attempt on King
Henry’s life, alone fled away into Scotland;[805] not one Scot tried
to escape, and some even who were not on the spot, when they heard the
noise of the fray, rode hastily up and almost forced themselves into
the hands of their captors, deeming it a knightly duty to share their
sovereign’s fate.[806]
[798] _Ib._ (pp. 189, 190). On the coincidence of time see Mr.
Howlett’s note 3, p. 188. Cf. the more detailed, but far less
vivid version of the story in Jordan Fantosme, vv. 1956–2029
(Michel, pp. 88–92). In the _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p.
72, Henry is said to have received the news on July 18. Taken
in conjunction with the story given above, this must mean the
night of July 17–18.
[799] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 65. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol.
ii. p. 60. Cf. Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 32 (as above, p. 182);
and Jordan Fantosme, vv., 1640–1650 (Michel, p. 74).
[800] Will. Newb. as above.
[801] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 65, 66. Cf. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 60.
[802] “Sexta Sabbati.” Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 33 (Howlett, vol.
i. p. 183).
[803] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 66. Cf. Rog. Howden as above;
Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 32 (as above, pp. 182, 183), and Jordan
Fantosme, vv. 1671–1729 (Michel, pp. 76–78). On the Scottish
misdoings see also R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 376; Gerv.
Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 247; and _Gesta Hen._ as above, p.
64; this latter writer can find no better way of describing
them than by copying Henry of Huntingdon’s account of the
Scottish invaders of 1138 (Hen. Hunt., l. viii. c. 6, Arnold,
p. 261).
[804] Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 33 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 183–185).
Jordan Fantosme, vv. 1731–1839 (Michel, pp. 78–84). Cf. _Gesta
Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 67; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii.
p. 63; and Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 249.
[805] Jordan Fantosme, vv. 1841–1849 (Michel, p. 84). Will.
Newb. as above (p. 185). On Adam de Port (whose presence on
this occasion is mentioned by Jordan only) see _Gesta Hen._
as above, p. 35 and note 2, and Stapleton, _Magn. Rot. Sacc.
Norm._ (Soc. Antiq.), vol. i., _Observ._, p. clxi.
[806] Will. Newb. as above.
The capture of William the Lion almost put an end to the rebellion.
A body of Flemings summoned by Bishop Hugh of Durham landed the same
day at Hartlepool; but at the tidings of the Scottish disaster, Hugh
thought it safest to pay them their forty days’ wages and send them
home again at once.[807] On the same day, too, the young king, weary
of waiting for a wind at Gravelines, left the count of Flanders there
alone and proceeded to Wissant with a body of troops whom he succeeded
in despatching from thence into England, under the command of Ralf of
La Haye, to the assistance of Hugh Bigod.[808] In London, meanwhile,
the news brought by Ralf de Glanville’s courier raised to the highest
pitch the spirits both of Henry and of his troops. On that very day he
set out for Huntingdon,[809] whose titular earl had already fled back
to Scotland;[810] at Huntingdon Geoffrey of Lincoln came to meet him
with a force of seven hundred knights;[811] and three days later the
garrison surrendered at discretion.[812] The king then marched to S.
Edmund’s; here he divided his host, sending half against Hugh Bigod’s
castle of Bungay, while he himself led the other half to Framlingham,
where Hugh was entrenched with five hundred knights and his Flemish
men-at-arms. The number of these, however, had dwindled greatly; when
the royal host encamped on July 24 at Sileham, close to Framlingham,
Hugh felt himself unable to cope with it; and next morning he
surrendered.[813] By the end of the month the whole struggle was over.
One by one the king’s foes came to his feet as he held his court at
Northampton. The king of Scots was brought, with his feet tied together
under his horse’s body, from his prison[814] at Richmond.[815] On the
last day of July Bishop Hugh of Durham came to give up his castles
of Durham, Norham and Northallerton. On the same day the earl of
Leicester’s three fortresses were surrendered by his constables;[816]
and Thirsk was given up by Roger of Mowbray.[817] Earl Robert de
Ferrers yielded up Tutbury and Duffield;[818] the earl of Gloucester
and his son-in-law Richard de Clare, who were suspected of intriguing
with the rebels, came to offer their services and their obedience to
the king;[819] and a like offer came from far-off Galloway, whose
native princes, Uhtred and Gilbert, long unwilling vassals of the
king of Scots, had seized their opportunity to call home their men,
drive out William’s bailiffs, destroy his castles and slaughter his
garrisons, and now besought his victorious English cousin to become
their protector and overlord.[820] In three weeks from Henry’s landing
in England all the royal fortresses were again in his hands, and the
country was once more at peace.[821]
[807] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 67.
[808] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 381. Cf. _ib._ p. 385.
[809] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 72.
[810] Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 37 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 195).
[811] See Henry’s remark at their meeting in Gir. Cambr. _Vita
Galfr._, l. i. c. 3 (Dimock, vol. iv. p. 368).
[812] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 73. Cf. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 384.
[813] _Gesta Hen._ as above. R. Diceto as above, pp. 384, 385.
[814] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 64.
[815] Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 33 (as above, p. 185).
[816] _Gesta Hen._ as above. R. Diceto as above, p. 384, dates
the surrender of these three castles July 22--_i.e._ just as
Henry was leaving Huntingdon for Suffolk. The chronology of
the _Gesta_ seems much more probable. See in Will. Newb., l.
ii. c. 37 (as above, pp. 194, 195), how Henry frightened the
constables into submission. Jordan Fantosme, vv. 2039–2046
(Michel, p. 92), has a different story about Leicester. He
makes David of Huntingdon its commandant, and says that as
soon as Henry received the news of the Scot king’s capture, he
forwarded it to David with a summons to surrender; whereupon
David gave up Leicester castle and himself both at once.
[817] _Gesta Hen._ as above. R. Diceto (as above), p. 385.
[818] _Gesta Hen._ as above. Tutbury was being besieged by a
host of Welshmen under Rees Ap-Griffith; R. Diceto (as above),
p. 384.
[819] R. Diceto as above, p. 385.
[820] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 63.
[821] _Ib._ p. 65. Rob. Torigni, a. 1174.
When England was secured, it was comparatively a light matter to secure
the rest. Louis of France was so dismayed at the sudden collapse of
the rebellion in England--a collapse which necessarily entailed a like
fate upon the rebellion in Normandy, since the leaders were the same
men in both cases--that he at once recalled the young king and the
count of Flanders from their project of invasion. As a last resource,
all three concentrated their forces upon the siege of Rouen.[822] Its
garrison held out gallantly until Henry had time to recross the sea
with his Brabantines and a thousand Welshmen[823] who had already done
good service under Rees Ap-Griffith at the siege of Tutbury.[824]
On August 11, three days after landing, he entered Rouen;[825] a
successful raid of his Welshmen upon some French convoys, followed by
an equally successful sally of Henry himself against the besieging
forces, sufficed to make Louis ask for a truce, under cover of which he
fled with his whole host back into his own dominions.[826] Some three
weeks later[827] he and Henry met in conference at Gisors and arranged
a suspension of hostilities until Michaelmas on all sides, except
between Henry and his son Richard, who was fighting independently
against his father’s loyal subjects in Poitou.[828] Henry marched
southward at once; Richard fled before him from place to place, leaving
his conquests to fall back one by one into the hands of their rightful
owner; at last he suddenly returned to throw himself at his father’s
feet, and a few days before Michaelmas Henry concluded his war in
Poitou[829] by entering Poitiers in triumph with Richard, penitent and
forgiven, at his side.[830]
[822] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 73. Rog. Howden as
above, p. 64. Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 36 (Howlett, vol. i. p.
190). Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 249. R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 386.
[823] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 74.
[824] See R. Diceto as above, p. 384. It seems most likely that
these were the same. The Pipe Roll of 1174 (Eyton, _Itin. Hen.
II._, p. 183) has a charge of £4: 18: 11 “in corredio Reis et
aliorum Walensium qui venerunt ad regem in expedicionem.”
[825] R. Diceto as above, p. 385. _Gesta Hen._ as above. Rog.
Howden as above, p. 65.
[826] See the details of Louis’s disgraceful conduct in _Gesta
Hen._ as above, pp. 74–76, Rog. Howden as above, pp. 65, 66, R.
Diceto as above, pp. 386, 387, Gerv. Cant. as above, p. 250,
and Will. Newb., l. ii. cc. 36 and 37 (as above, pp. 192–196).
[827] On September 8. _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 76.
[828] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 76. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 66. Rob. Torigni, a. 1174.
[829] “Et sic finivit rex gwerram suam in Pictaviâ,” comments
the writer of the _Gesta Hen._ (as above) on the reconciliation.
[830] Rog. Howden as above, p. 67.
On the last day of September the two kings and all the princes met in
conference between Tours and Amboise.[831] Henry’s three elder sons
accepted the endowments which he offered them; in return, the young
king gave his assent to a provision for John. A general amnesty was
agreed upon; all prisoners on both sides, except the king of Scots,
the earls of Leicester and Chester and Ralf of Fougères, were released
at once; all the rebels returned to their allegiance, and were fully
forgiven; Henry claimed nothing from any of them save the restoration
of their castles to the condition in which they had been before the
war, and the right of taking such hostages and other security as he
might choose.[832] These terms of course did not apply to England;
while, on the other hand, the king of Scots and his fellow-captives,
whom Henry had brought back with him to Normandy and replaced in
confinement at Falaise,[833] were excluded from them as prisoners of
war. It was at Falaise, on October 11, that Henry and his sons embodied
their agreement in a written document.[834] A few weeks later William
of Scotland, with the formal assent of the bishops and barons of his
realm, who had been allowed free access to him during his captivity,
submitted to pay the price which Henry demanded for his ransom. The
legal relations between the crowns of England and Scotland had been
doubtful ever since the days of William the Conqueror and Malcolm
Canmore, if not since the days of Eadward the Elder and Constantine;
henceforth they were to be doubtful no longer. William the Lion became
the liegeman of the English king and of his son for Scotland and for
all his other lands, and agreed that their heirs should be entitled to
a like homage and fealty from all future kings of Scots. The castles
of Roxburgh, Jedburgh, Berwick, Edinburgh and Stirling were required
by Henry as security; and as soon as the treaty had been ratified at
Valognes[835] William was sent over sea in a sort of honourable custody
to enforce their surrender and thereby complete his own release.[836]
[831] _Ibid._ _Gesta Hen._ as above. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol.
i. p. 250. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 394. On the date
given by this last see below, note 7{834}.
[832] Treaty given at length in _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp.
77–79, and Rog. Howden as above, pp. 67–69; abridged in R.
Diceto as above, pp. 394, 395.
[833] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 74.
[834] The treaty, as given in _Gesta Hen._ and Rog. Howden (see
above, note 5{832}), is printed also in Rymer’s _Fœdera_,
vol. i. p. 30, with the addition of a date--Falaise--and the
signatures of twenty-eight witnesses. Among the latter is
Geoffrey, bishop elect of Lincoln. Now we know from R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 393, that Geoffrey came over from England
to Normandy on October 8. R. Diceto (_ib._ p. 394) gives the
date of the meeting at which the treaty was made as October 11.
Is it not probable that he has substituted for the date of the
making of the treaty that of its formal ratification at Falaise?
[835] This treaty, as given in _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i.
pp. 96–99, and Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 80–82 (and
from them in Rymer’s _Fœdera_, vol. i. pp. 30, 31), is dated at
Falaise. R. Diceto, however (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 396), who gives
an abridgement of it, says it was made at Valognes, on December
8. Now there is in Hearne’s _Liber Niger_, vol. i. pp. 36–40,
a copy of the treaty, differing from the former ones in having
eighteen more witnesses (one cannot help noting the name of
the last--“Roger Bacun”) and in its date, which is “Valognes.”
No doubt the Falaise copy was made first, and this is the
ratification of it.
[836] R. Diceto as above, p. 398.
By the terms of Henry’s treaty with France, all the English barons who
held lands on both sides of the sea were to be at once re-instated in
their continental possessions, except the castles over which the king
resumed his ancient rights of garrison or of demolition. Their English
estates however were wholly at his mercy; but he made a very gentle use
of his power over them. He took in fact no personal vengeance at all;
he exacted simply what was necessary for securing his own authority
and the peace of the realm--the instant departure of the Flemish
mercenaries[837] and the demolition of unlicensed fortifications--and
for defraying the expenses of the war. This was done by a tax levied
partly on the royal demesnes, partly on the estates of the rebels
throughout the country, on the basis of an assessment made for that
purpose during the past summer by the sheriffs of the several counties,
assisted by some officers of the Exchequer.[838] No ruinous sums were
demanded; even Hugh Bigod escaped with a fine of a thousand marks, and
lost none of the revenues of his earldom save for the time that he was
actually in open rebellion; the third penny of Norfolk was reckoned as
due to him again from the third day after his surrender, and its amount
for two months was paid to him accordingly at Michaelmas.[839] Even the
earls of Leicester and Chester seem to have been at once set free;[840]
and in little more than two years they were restored to all their lands
and honours, except their castles, which were either razed or retained
in the king’s hands.[841]
[837] Hugh Bigod’s Flemings and the knights sent over by the
young king were all sent out of the country immediately after
Hugh’s surrender, and the former were made to swear that they
would never set a hostile foot in England again. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 385.
[838] This is the “Assiza super dominica regis et super terras
eorum qui recesserunt.” Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, pp. 184, 185.
[839] See extract from Pipe Roll 20 Hen. II. [a. 1174], and Mr.
Eyton’s comment upon it, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 181, note 2.
[840] Hugh of Chester was probably released at the same time
with the king of Scots, for he signs among the witnesses to the
treaty of Falaise. _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 99. Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 82.
[841] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 134, 135. Rog. Howden as
above, p. 118.
This very clemency was in itself at once the strongest proof of the
completeness of Henry’s victory and the surest means of retaining
the hold which he had now gained over the barons. The struggle whose
course we have been trying to follow has a special significance: it
was the last struggle in English history in which the barons were
arrayed against the united interests of the Crown and the people. That
feudal pride which had revolted so often and so fiercely against the
determination of William the Conqueror and Henry I. to enforce justice
and order throughout their realm stooped at last to acknowledge its
master in Henry II. In the unbroken tranquillity, the uninterrupted
developement of reform in law and administration, the unchecked
growth of the material and social prosperity of England during the
remaining fifteen years of his reign, Henry and his people reaped the
first-fruits of the anti-feudal policy which he and his predecessors
had so long and so steadily maintained. Its full harvest was to be
reaped after he was gone, not by the sovereign, but by the barons
themselves, to whom his strong hand had at last taught their true
mission as leaders and champions of the English people against a king
who had fallen away from the traditions alike of the Norman and of the
Angevin Henry.
CHAPTER V.
THE ANGEVIN EMPIRE.
1175–1183.
In the seven years which followed the suppression of the barons’ revolt
Henry’s prosperity reached its height. The rising in which all his
enemies had united for his destruction had ended in leaving him seated
more firmly than ever upon the most securely-established throne in
Europe. Within the four seas of Britain he was master as no king had
ever been master before him. The English people had been with him from
the first, and was learning year by year to identify its interests
more closely with his; the Church, alienated for nearly ten years, was
reconciled by his penance; feudalism was beaten at last, and for ever.
The Welsh princes were his obedient and serviceable vassals; the Scot
king had been humbled to accept a like position; a new subject-realm
was growing up on the coast of Ireland. The great external peril which
had dogged Henry’s footsteps through life, the hostility of France, was
for a while paralyzed by his success. Other external foes he had none;
the kings of Spain and of Sicily, the princes of the Western and even
of the Eastern Empire, vied with each other in seeking the friendship,
one might almost say the patronage, of the one sovereign in Europe who,
safe on his sea-girt throne, could afford to be independent of them
all. Within and without, on either side of the sea, all hindrances to
the full and free developement of Henry’s policy for the government of
his whole dominions were thus completely removed.
In England itself the succeeding period was one of unbroken
tranquillity and steady prosperous growth, social, intellectual,
political, constitutional. Henry used his opportunity to make a longer
stay in the island than he had ever made there before, save at the
very beginning of his reign. He was there from May 1175 to August
1177; in the following July he returned, and stayed till April 1180;
he came back again in July 1181, and remained till March 1182. Each of
these visits was marked by some further step towards the completion
of his judicial and administrative reforms. Almost as soon as he
set foot in the country, indeed, he took up his work as if it had
never been interrupted. The king and his eldest son went to England
together on May 9, 1175;[842] on Rogation Sunday they publicly sealed
their reconciliation with each other and with the Church in a great
council which met at Westminster[843] under the presidence of a new
archbishop of Canterbury, Richard, formerly prior of Dover, who
after countless troubles and delays had been chosen just before the
outbreak of the rebellion to fill S. Thomas’s place,[844] and had
come back from Rome in triumph, with his pallium and a commission as
legate for all England, just as Henry was returning to Normandy from
his success against Hugh Bigod.[845] From the council the two kings
and the primate went all together on a pilgrimage to the martyr’s
tomb at Canterbury;[846] at Whitsuntide the kings held a court at
Reading,[847] and on S. Peter’s day they met the Welsh princes in a
great council at Gloucester.[848] Two days later the process, begun
two years before, of filling up the vacant bishoprics and abbacies
which had been accumulating during Thomas’s exile was completed in
another council at Woodstock.[849] Thence, too, was issued an edict for
the better securing of order throughout the realm, and particularly
around the person of the king; all his opponents in the late war were
forbidden, on pain of arrest as traitors, to come to the court without
special summons, and, under any circumstances, to come before sunrise
or stay over night; and all wearing of arms, knife, bow and arrows,
was forbidden on the English side of the Severn. These prohibitions
however were only temporary;[850] and they were, with one exception,
the only measure of general severity taken by Henry in consequence of
the rebellion. That exception was a great forest-visitation, begun by
Henry in person during the summer of 1175 and not completed by his
ministers, it seems, till Michaelmas 1177, and from which scarcely
a man throughout the kingdom, baron or villein, layman or priest,
was altogether exempt. In vain did Richard de Lucy, as loyal to the
people as to the king, shew Henry his own royal writ authorizing the
justiciars to throw open the forests and give up the royal fish-ponds
to public use during the war, and protest against the injustice of
punishing the people at large for a trespass to which he had himself
invited them in the king’s name and in accordance, as he had understood
it, with the king’s expressed will. The license had probably been
used to a far wider extent than Henry had intended; the general
excitement had perhaps vented itself in some such outburst of wanton
destructiveness as had occurred after the death of Henry I.; at any
rate, the Norman and the Angevin blood in Henry II. was all alike
stirred into wrath at sight of damage done to vert and venison; the
transgressors were placed, in technical phrase, “at the king’s mercy,”
and their fines constituted an important item in the Pipe Roll of
1176.[851]
[842] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 83, 84. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 399.
[843] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 84. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol.
i. p. 250. R. Diceto as above, pp. 399–401.
[844] On the Canterbury troubles and Richard’s election see
Gerv. Cant. as above, pp. 239–242, 243–245, 247.
[845] _Ib._ p. 249. R. Diceto as above, p. 391. _Gesta Hen._ as
above, p. 74.
[846] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 91. Gerv. Cant. as above, p.
256. R. Diceto as above, p. 399.
[847] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[848] _Ib._ p. 92.
[849] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 93. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 78, 79.
[850] _Gesta Hen._ as above. “Sed hæc præcepta parvo tempore
custodita sunt.”
[851] On the “misericordia regis pro forestâ,” as it is called
in the Pipe Rolls, see _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 92, 94; Rog.
Howden as above, p. 79; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 402;
Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. p. 483; and the extracts from
the Pipe Rolls 22 and 23 Hen. II. (_i.e._ 1176 and 1177) in
Madox, _Hist. Exch._, vol. i. pp. 541, 542.
In the beginning of that year the king assembled a great council at
Northampton,[852] and thence issued an Assize which forms another
link in the series of legal enactments begun at Clarendon just ten
years before. The first three clauses and the twelfth clause of the
Assize of Northampton are substantially a re-issue of those articles
of the Assize of Clarendon which regulated the presentment, detention
and punishment of criminals and the treatment of strangers and
vagabonds.[853] The experience of the past ten years had however led to
some modifications in the details of the procedure. The recognition by
twelve lawful men of every hundred and four of every township, to be
followed by ordeal of water, was re-enacted; but the presentment was
now to be made not to the sheriff, but direct to the king’s justices.
The punishments, too, were more severe than before; the forger, robber,
murderer or incendiary who under the former system would have suffered
the loss of a foot was now to lose a hand as well, and to quit the
realm within forty days.[854] The remaining articles dealt with quite
other matters. The fourth declared the legal order of proceeding with
regard to the estate of a deceased freeholder, in such a manner as to
secure the rights of his heir and of his widow before the usual relief
could be exacted by the lord; and it referred all disputes between the
lord and the heir touching the latter’s right of inheritance to the
decision of the king’s justices, on the recognition of twelve lawful
men[855]--a process which, under the name of the assize of _mort
d’ancester_, soon became a regular part of the business transacted
before the justices-in-eyre. Some of the other clauses had a more
political significance. They directed the justices to take an oath
of homage and fealty to the king from every man in the realm, earl,
baron, knight, freeholder or villein, before the octave of Whit-Sunday
at latest, and to arrest as traitors all who refused it:[856]--to
investigate and strictly enforce the demolition of the condemned
castles;[857] to ascertain and report by whom, how and where the duty
of castle-guard was owed to the king;[858] to inquire what persons had
fled from justice and incurred the penalty of outlawry by failing to
give themselves up at the appointed time, and to send in a list of all
such persons to the Exchequer at Easter and Michaelmas for transmission
to the king.[859] The tenth article was aimed at the bailiffs of the
royal demesnes, requiring them to give an account of their stewardship
before the Exchequer;[860] and two others defined the justices’
authority, as extending, in judicial matters, over all pleas of the
Crown, both in criminal causes and in civil actions concerning half a
knight’s fee or less; and in fiscal matters, over escheats, wardships,
and lands and churches in royal demesne.[861]
[852] On January 26. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 404.
Cf. _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 107, and Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 87. The _Gesta_ date it merely “circa
festum Conversionis S. Pauli”; Roger turns this into “in
festo,” etc., and adopts the reading “Nottingham” instead of
“Northampton.” Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 257, 258,
confounds the Assize of Clarendon with the Constitutions.
[853] Cf. articles 1–3, 12 of Ass. Northampton (Stubbs, _Select
Charters_, pp. 150, 151, 152), with Ass. Clarendon, cc. 1–4,
13, 15, 16 (_ib._ pp. 143, 144, 145). The Assize of Northampton
is given in the _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 108–110, and by Rog.
Howden as above, pp. 89–91.
[854] Ass. North., c. 1 (Stubbs, as above, p. 151).
[855] _Ib._ c. 4 (pp. 151, 152).
[856] Ass. North., c. 6 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 152).
[857] _Ib._ c. 8 (as above).
[858] _Ib._ c. 11 (_ibid._)
[859] _Ib._ c. 13 (pp. 152, 153).
[860] _Ib._ c. 10 (p. 152).
[861] _Ib._ cc. 7 and 9 (_ibid._).
The visitations of the justices by whom this assize was carried into
effect were arranged upon a new plan, or rather upon a modified form
of the plan which had been adopted two years before for the assessment
of a tallage upon the royal demesnes, to meet the cost of the expected
war. It was at that terrible crisis, when most men in Henry’s place
would have had no thought to spare for anything save the military
necessities and perils of the moment, that he had first devised and
carried into effect the principle of judicial circuits which with some
slight changes in detail has remained in force until our own day. This
tallage was levied by nineteen barons of the Exchequer, distributed
into six companies, each company undertaking the assessment throughout
a certain district or group of shires.[862] The abandonment of
this scheme in the assizes of the two following years was probably
necessitated by the disturbed state of the country. But at the council
of Northampton the kingdom was again definitely mapped out into six
divisions, to each of which three justices were sent.[863] In the
report of their proceedings in the Pipe Roll of the year they are for
the first time since the Assize of Clarendon[864] officially described
by the title which they had long borne in common speech, “_justitiæ
itinerantes_” (or “_errantes_”), justices-in-eyre; and it is from this
time that the regular institution of itinerant judges is dated by
modern legal historians.[865]
[862] See the lists in Stubbs, _Gesta Hen._, vol. ii., pref. p.
lxv, note 5, and Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 176; from the Pipe
Roll 19 Hen. II. (a. 1173).
[863] See lists in _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 107, 108.
[864] Ass. Clar., c. 19 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 145).
[865] Stubbs, _Gesta Hen._, vol. ii. pref. pp. lxix, lxx and
notes.
This first distribution of circuits however was soon altered. In
the very next year the same eighteen officers made, in addition to
their judicial circuits, a general visitation of the realm for fiscal
purposes, in four companies instead of six;[866] and on Henry’s return
to England in the summer of 1178 he made what at first glance looks
like a sweeping change in the organization of the Curia Regis. “The
king,” we are told, “made inquiry concerning his justices whom he had
appointed in England, whether they treated the men of the realm with
righteousness and moderation; and when he learned that the country and
the people were sore oppressed by the great multitude of justices--for
they were eighteen in number--by the counsel of the wise men of the
realm he chose out five, two clerks and three laymen, who were all of
his private household; and he decreed that those five should hear all
the complaints of the realm, and do right, and that they should not
depart from the king’s court, but abide there to hear the complaints of
his men; so that if any question came up among them which they could
not bring to an end, it should be presented to the king’s hearing and
determined as might please him and the wise men of the realm.”[867]
From the mention of the number eighteen it appears that the persons
against whom were primarily directed both the complaint of the people
and the action of the king were the justices-in-eyre of the last two
years; and this is confirmed by the fact that of all these eighteen,
only six were among the judges who went on circuit in 1178 and 1179,
while from 1180 onwards only one of them reappears in that capacity,
though many of them retained their functions in the Exchequer. In 1178
and 1179 moreover the circuits were reduced from six to two, each
being served by four judges.[868] The enactment of 1178, however,
evidently touched the central as well as the provincial judicature,
and with more important results. It took the exercise of the highest
judicial functions out of the hands of the large body of officers who
made up the Curia Regis as constituted until that time, and restricted
it to a small chosen committee. This was apparently the origin of a
limited tribunal which, springing up thus within the Curia Regis, soon
afterwards appropriated its name, and in later days grew into the Court
of King’s Bench. At the same time the reservation of difficult cases
for the hearing of the king in council points to the creation, or
rather to the revival, of a yet higher court of justice, that of the
king himself in council with his “wise men”--a phrase which, while on
the one hand it carries us back to the very earliest form of the Curia
Regis, on the other points onward to its later developements in the
modern tribunals of equity or of appeal, the courts of Chancery and of
the Privy Council in its judicial capacity.[869]
[866] _Ib._ p. lxx and note 3.
[867] _Ib._ vol. i. pp. 207, 208.
[868] Stubbs, _Gesta Hen._, vol. ii., pref. p. lxxi and note 2.
[869] Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. pp. 486, 487, 601–603;
_Gesta Hen._, vol. ii. pref. pp. lxxi, lxxiv–lxxvii.
All these changes in the circuits and in the Curia Regis had however
another motive. The chief obstacle to Henry’s judicial and legal
reforms was the difficulty of getting them administered according to
the intention of their author. It was to meet this difficulty that
Henry, as a contemporary writer says, “while never changing his mind,
was ever changing his ministers.”[870] He had employed men chosen
from every available class of society in turn, and none of his
experiments had altogether brought him satisfaction. Feudal nobles,
court officials, confidential servants and friends, had all alike
been tried and, sooner or later, found wanting.[871] There was only
one who had never yet failed him in a service of twenty-five years’
duration--Richard de Lucy “the loyal”; but in the summer of 1179
Richard de Lucy, to his master’s great regret, resigned his office of
justiciar and retired to end his days a few months later as a brother
of an Augustinian house which he had founded at Lesnes in Kent to
the honour of S. Thomas of Canterbury.[872] Henry in this extremity
fell back once more upon a precedent of his grandfather’s time and
determined to place the chief administration, for the moment at
least, again in clerical hands. Instead of a single justiciar-bishop,
however, he appointed three--the bishops of Winchester, Ely and
Norwich;[873] all of whom, under their earlier appellations of Richard
of Ilchester, Geoffrey Ridel and John of Oxford, had long ago acquired
ample experience and shewn ample capacity for the work of secular
administration.[874]
[870] “Sic animum a proposito non immutans, circa personas
mutabiles immutabilem semper sæpe mutavit sententiam.” R.
Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 434--part of a long passage which
sets forth very fully the motives and the general aims and
results of Henry’s administrative changes.
[871] R. Diceto as above, pp. 434–435.
[872] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 238. Cf. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 190.
[873] R. Diceto as above, p. 435.
[874] Richard of Ilchester is well known as an active official
of the Exchequer; see below, pp. 193, 194. Geoffrey Ridel seems
to have acted as vice-chancellor throughout S. Thomas’s primacy
and exile; see Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 174, note 1. As for
John of Oxford, his diplomatic talents are only too notorious.
This arrangement was however only provisional. The number of judicial
circuits was again raised to four, and to each of the three southern
circuits was despatched one of the justiciar-bishops, with a royal
clerk and three laymen to act as his subordinate assistants. The fourth
circuit, which took in the whole district between the Trent and the
Scottish border, was intrusted to six justices, of whom only two were
clerks; one of these, Godfrey de Lucy the archdeacon of Richmond, a
brother of the late chief justiciar, stood nominally at the head
of the commission; but there can be little doubt that its real head
was one of his lay colleagues--Ralf de Glanville,[875] the faithful
sheriff of Lancashire and castellan of Richmond to whom William the
Lion had given up his sword at Alnwick in 1174;[876] and these six
were appointed to form the committee for hearing the complaints of the
people, apparently in succession to the five who had been selected in
the previous year.[877] All four bodies of judges brought up a report
of their proceedings to the king at Westminster on August 27,[878]
and it seems to have been the most satisfactory which he had yet
received. When he went over sea in the following April, he left Ralf de
Glanville to represent him in England as chief justiciar.[879] Ralf’s
business capacities proved to be at least as great, and his honesty as
stainless, as those of his predecessor; and from that time forth the
management of the entire legal and judicial administration was left in
his hands. Circuits, variously distributed, continued to be made from
year to year and for divers purposes by companies of judges, ranging
in total numbers from three to twenty-two;[880] while the King’s Court
and the Exchequer pursued their work on the lines already laid down,
without further interruption, till the end of Henry’s reign.
[875] See the lists in _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 238,
239; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 190, 191.
[876] Jordan Fantosme, v. 1811 (Michel, p. 82).
[877] “Isti sex sunt justitiæ in curiâ regis constituti ad
audiendum clamores populi.” _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 239. See
on this Stubbs, _Gesta Hen._, vol. ii. pref. p. lxxiii, and
_Constit. Hist._, vol. i. pp. 601, 602.
[878] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 436.
[879] Rog. Howden as above, p. 215.
[880] See notices of the circuits and of the sessions of the
Curia Regis and Exchequer in Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, pp. 236,
237, 243, 244, 247, 248, 249, 251, 253, 258, 259, 265, 272,
273, 281, 291.
The last of Henry’s great legal measures, with the exception of a
Forest Assize issued in 1184, was an ordinance published in the autumn
of 1181 and known as the Assize of Arms. Its object was to define more
fully and exactly the military obligations of the people at large in
the service of the king and the defence of the country;--in a word, to
put once again upon a more definite footing the old institution of the
“fyrd,” which was the only effective counterpoise to the military power
of the barons, and whose services in 1173 and 1174 had proved it to be
well worthy of the royal consideration and encouragement. The Assize
of 1181 declared the obligation of bearing arms at the king’s command
to be binding upon every free layman in the realm. The character of
the arms with which men of various ranks were required to provide
themselves was defined according to a graduated scale, from the full
equipment of the knight down to the mail-coat, steel-cap and spear of
the burgher and the simple freeman.[881] The justices were directed to
ascertain, through the “lawful men” of the hundreds and towns, what
persons fell under each category, to enroll their names, read out the
Assize in their presence, and make them swear to provide themselves
with the proper accoutrements before S. Hilary’s day.[882] Every man’s
arms were to be carefully kept and used solely for the royal service;
they were not to be taken out of the country, or alienated in any
way;[883] at their owner’s death they were to pass to his heir;[884] if
any man possessed other arms than those required of him by the Assize,
he was to dispose of them in such a manner that they might be used in
the king’s service;[885] and all this was enforced by a stern threat of
corporal punishment upon defaulters.[886]
[881] Ass. Arms, cc. 1–3 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 154;
from _Gesta Hen._, vol. i. pp. 278–280. The Assize is also
given by Rog. Howden, vol. ii. pp. 261, 262).
[882] _Ib._ cc. 9 and 4 (Stubbs as above, pp. 155, 156, 154).
[883] _Ib._ cc. 4, 8 (pp. 154, 155).
[884] _Ib._ c. 5 (p. 155).
[885] _Ib._ cc. 6, 7 (as above).
[886] _Ib._ c. 10 (p. 156).
The freemen who were armed under this Assize had little occasion
to use their weapons so long as King Henry lived. Within the four
seas of Britain there was almost unbroken peace till the end of his
reign. The treaty with Scotland was ratified by the public homage of
William the Lion to Henry and his son at York on August 10, 1175;[887]
and thenceforth Henry’s sole trouble from that quarter was the
necessity of arbitrating between William and his unruly vassals in
Galloway,[888] and of advising him in his ecclesiastical difficulties
with the Roman see. The western border of England was less secure than
the northern; yet even in Wales the authority of the English Crown
had made a considerable advance since Henry’s accession. His first
Welsh war, directed against the princes of North Wales in 1157, had
little practical result. A second expedition marched in 1163 against
Rees Ap-Griffith, prince of South Wales, and a lucky incident at the
outset insured its success. Directly in the king’s line of march from
Shrewsbury into South Wales, between Wenlock and Newport, there ran a
streamlet called Pencarn--a mountain-torrent passable only at certain
points. One of these was an ancient ford concerning which a prophecy
attributed to the enchanter Merlin declared: “When ye shall see a
strong man with a freckled face rush in upon the Britons, if he cross
the ford of Pencarn, then know ye that the might of Cambria shall
perish.” The Welsh guarded this ford with the utmost care to prevent
Henry from crossing it; he, ignorant of the prophecy, sent his troops
over by another passage, and was about to follow them himself, when a
loud blast from their trumpets on the opposite bank caused his horse
to rear so violently that he was obliged to turn away and seek a means
of crossing elsewhere. He found it at the fatal spot, and as the Welsh
saw him dash through the stream their hearts sank in despair.[889] He
marched unopposed from one end of South Wales to the other, through
Glamorgan and Carmarthen as far as Pencader;[890] here Rees made his
submission;[891] and Rees himself, Owen of North Wales, and several
other Welsh princes appeared and swore allegiance to King Henry and his
heir in that famous council of Woodstock where the first quarrel arose
between Henry and Thomas of Canterbury.[892]
[887] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), pp. 94–96. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 79. Cf. Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 38 (Howlett, vol. i.
p. 198).
[888] On the Galloway affair see _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol.
i. pp. 67, 68, 79, 80, 99, 126, 313, 336, 339, 348, 349; Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 63, 69, 105, 299, 309.
[889] Gir. Cambr. _Itin. Kambr._ l. i. c. 6 (Dimock, vol. vi.
pp. 62, 63).
[890] _Ib._ l. ii. c. 10 (p. 138).
[891] Ann. Cambr. a. 1164 (Williams, p. 49). _Brut y Tywys._,
a. 1162 (Williams, p. 199). Both dates are self-evidently
wrong; the only possible one is the intermediate year.
[892] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 311.
Next year Rees, provoked as he alleged by Henry’s non-fulfilment of his
promises and also by the shelter given to the slayer of his nephew by
Earl Roger of Clare, harried the whole border and roused all Wales to
fling off the yoke of the “Frenchmen,” as the Welsh still called their
Norman conquerors.[893] Henry was obliged to delay his vengeance till
the following summer, when it furnished him with an excellent pretext
for escaping from his ecclesiastical and political entanglements on
the continent.[894] He set out from Oswestry[895] at the head of a
vast army drawn from all parts of his dominions, both insular and
continental, and reinforced by Flemish and Scottish allies.[896]
All the princes of Wales were arrayed against him, and both parties
intended the campaign to be decisive. But the wet climate of the Welsh
hills proved a more dangerous foe than the mountaineers themselves; and
after remaining for some time encamped at Berwen, Henry was compelled
to beat an ignominious retreat, completely defeated by the ceaseless
rain,[897] and venting his baffled wrath against the Welsh in a savage
mutilation of their hostages.[898] For six years after this, as we
have seen, he never had time to visit his island realm at all, and
the daring “French” settlers in Wales or on its borders, such as the
Geraldines or the De Clares, were free to fight their own battles and
make their own alliances with the Welsh just as they chose; it was
not till Henry in 1171 followed them to their more distant settlement
in Ireland that he again entered South Wales. Then he used his
opportunity for a series of personal interviews with Rees,[899] which
ended in a lasting agreement. Rees was left, in the phrase of his
native chronicler, as the king’s “justice” over all South Wales.[900]
How far he maintained, along the border or within his own territories,
the peace and order whose preservation formed the main part of an
English justiciar’s duty, may be doubted; but in the rebellion of
1174 he shewed his personal loyalty to the king by marching all the
way into Staffordshire to besiege Tutbury for him, and some of his
followers did equally good service in the suppression of the Norman
revolt.[901] David of North Wales, too, if he did nothing to help the
king, at least resisted the temptation of joining his enemies; and
the war was no sooner fairly over than, anxious that some reflection
of the glories of English royalty should be cast over his own house,
he became an eager suitor for the hand of Henry’s half-sister Emma--a
suit which Henry found it politic to grant.[902] A few months later,
in June 1175, the king made an attempt to secure the tranquillity of
the border by binding all the barons of the district in a sworn mutual
alliance for its defence.[903] The attempt was not very successful; the
border-warfare went on in much the same way as of old; but it was not
till the summer of 1184 that it grew serious enough to call for Henry’s
personal intervention, and then a march to Worcester sufficed to bring
Rees of South Wales once more to his feet.[904]
[893] Ann. Cambr. a. 1165 (Williams, pp. 49, 50). _Brut y
Tywys._, a. 1163 (Williams, p. 199).
[894] See above, p. 56, note 3{223}.
[895] Ann. Cambr. a. 1166 (_i.e._ 1165; Williams, p. 50). _Brut
y Tywys._, a. 1164 (Williams, p. 201). Gir. Cambr. _Itin.
Kambr._, l. ii. c. 10 (Dimock, vol. vi. p. 138). According to
the _Brut_ (as above) Henry first “moved an army with extreme
haste, and came to Rhuddlan, and purposed to erect a castle
there, and stayed there three nights. After that he returned
into England, and collected a vast army,” etc. Following this,
Mr. Bridgeman (_Princes of S. Wales_, p. 48) and Mr. Eyton
(_Itin. Hen. II._, pp. 79, 82) divide the Welsh campaign of
1165 into two, one in May and the other in July. Neither the
Ann. Cambr. nor Gerald, however, make any mention of the
Rhuddlan expedition.
[896] Ann. Cambr. and _Brut y Tywys._ as above.
[897] _Brut y Tywys._, a. 1164 (Williams, pp. 201, 203).
[898] _Ibid._ (p. 203). Chron. Mailros a. 1165.
[899] See _Brut y Tywys._, a. 1171, 1172 (Williams, pp.
213–219).
[900] _Ib._ a. 1172 (p. 219).
[901] See above, p. 164.
[902] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 397, 398.
[903] At the council held at Gloucester on June 29. _Gesta
Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 92.
[904] _Ib._ p. 314.
It was the latest-won dependency of the English crown which during
these years gave the most trouble to its wearer. If Henry found it hard
to secure fit instruments for the work of government and administration
in England, he found it harder still to secure them for the same work
in Ireland. At the outbreak of the barons’ revolt he had at once
guarded against all danger of the rebels finding support in Ireland by
recalling the garrisons which he had left in the Irish coast-towns and
summoning the chief men of the new vassal state, particularly Richard
of Striguil and Hugh de Lacy, to join him personally in Normandy.[905]
Richard served him well in the war as commandant of the important
border-fortress of Gisors;[906] and it may have been as a reward for
these services that he was sent back to Ireland as governor in Hugh’s
stead[907] at the close of the year. For the next two years, while the
king had his hands full in Normandy and England, matters in Ireland
went much as they had gone before his visit there; the Norman-English
settlers pursued their strifes and their alliances with their Irish
neighbours or with each other, and granted out to their followers
the lands which they won, entirely at their own pleasure.[908] But
the lesson which Henry was meanwhile teaching their brethren in
England was not thrown away upon them; and at the close of 1175 it
was brought home to them in another way. Roderic O’Conor, moved as it
seems by the fame of Henry’s successes, and also perhaps by two papal
bulls--Adrian’s famous “Laudabiliter,” and another from the reigning
Pope Alexander--which Henry had lately caused to be published at
Waterford,[909] at last bent his stubborn independence to send three
envoys to the English king with overtures for a treaty of peace. The
treaty was signed at Windsor on October 6. Roderic submitted to become
Henry’s liegeman, and to pay him a yearly tribute of one hide “pleasing
to the merchants” for every ten head of cattle throughout Ireland; on
these conditions he was confirmed in the government and administration
of justice over the whole island, except Leinster, Meath and Waterford,
and authorized to reckon upon the help of the royal constables in
compelling the obedience of his vassals and collecting from them their
share of the tribute.[910]
[905] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 136–141. Cf. above, p. 145.
[906] Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), p. 137.
[907] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. i. c. 44 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 298).
[908] For the history of these years in Ireland see Four
Masters, a. 1173–1175 (O’Donovan, vol. iii. pp. 9–23); Gir.
Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. ii. cc. 1–4 (Dimock, vol. v. pp.
308–314); Anglo-Norm. Poem (Michel), pp. 142 to end.
[909] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 5 (pp. 315–319).
[910] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 101–103. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 83, 84.
This scheme might perhaps have answered at least as well as a similar
plan had answered during a few years in South Wales, had it not been
for the disturbed condition of the English settlement. The death of
Richard of Striguil in 1176[911] left the command in the hands of his
brother-in-law and constable, Raymond the Fat, who for some years had
been not only the leader of his forces, but also his chief adviser and
most indispensable agent in all matters political and military.[912]
A jealous rival, however, had already brought Raymond into ill repute
at court,[913] and the king’s seneschal William Fitz-Aldhelm was sent
to supersede him.[914] William appears to have been a loyal servant of
the king, but his tact and wisdom did not equal his loyalty. At the
moment of landing his suspicions were aroused by the imposing display
of armed followers with which Raymond came to meet him; the muttered
words which he incautiously suffered to escape his lips--“I will soon
put an end to all this!”--were enough to set all the Geraldines against
him at once; and the impolitic haste and severity with which he acted
upon his suspicions, without waiting to prove their justice,[915] drove
the whole body of the earlier settlers into such a state of irritation
that early in the next year Henry found it necessary to recall
him.[916] Meanwhile the aggressive spirit of the English settlers had
made Henry’s treaty with Roderic almost a dead letter. In defiance of
the rights which that treaty reserved to the Irish monarch, they had
profited by the mutual dissensions of the lesser native chieftains to
extend their own power far beyond the limits therein laid down. A civil
war in Munster had ended in its virtual subjugation by Raymond and his
Geraldine kinsfolk;[917] a like pretext had served for an invasion of
Connaught itself by Miles Cogan;[918] John de Courcy was in full career
of conquest in Ulster.[919] Henry could scarcely have put a stop to
all this, even had he really wished to do so; and by this time he was
probably more inclined to encourage any extension of English power in
Ireland, for he had devised a new scheme for the government of that
country.
[911] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. ii. c. 14 (Dimock, vol.
v. p. 332). R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 407. Four Masters,
a. 1176 (O’Donovan, vol. iii. p. 25). _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 125.
[912] Gir. Cambr. as above, cc. 1–3 (pp. 308–313).
[913] _Ib._ cc. 10, 11 (pp. 327, 328).
[914] _Gesta Hen._ as above. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p.
100.
[915] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 15 (pp. 334–337).
[916] _Ib._ c. 20 (p. 347). Gerald gives no date for the recall
of William; but it seems to have been before the nomination of
John as king of Ireland in May 1177; see below, p. 184.
[917] Gir. Cambr. as above, cc. 7, 12, 13 (pp. 320–323,
329–332).
[918] Four Masters, a. 1177 (O’Donovan, vol. iii. p. 35).
Ann. Loch Cé, a. 1177 (Hennessy, vol. i. p. 155). Gir. Cambr.
_Expugn. Hibern._, l. ii. c. 19 (Dimock, vol. v. p. 346).
[919] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 17 (pp. 338–343). Four Masters,
as above, pp. 29–33. Ann. Loch Cé, as above, pp. 155–157.
_Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 137, 138. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 120.
The bride of John “Lackland,” Alice of Maurienne, had died within a
year of her betrothal.[920] The marriage-contract indeed provided that
in case of such an event her sister should take her place; but the
connexion had begun too inauspiciously for either Henry or Humbert to
have any desire of renewing it; and Henry now saw a possibility of more
than repairing within his insular dominions the ill-luck which had
befallen his plans of advancement on the continent for his favourite
child. In the autumn of 1176 John was betrothed to his cousin Avice,
the youngest of the three daughters of Earl William of Gloucester, and
Avice was made heiress to the whole of the vast estates in the west
of England and South Wales which her father had inherited from his
parents, Earl Robert of Gloucester and Mabel of Glamorgan.[921] But
a mere English earldom, however important, was not enough to satisfy
Henry’s ambition for his darling. In his scheme Avice’s wealth was to
furnish her bridegroom with the means of supporting a loftier dignity.
He had now, it was said, obtained Pope Alexander’s leave to make king
of Ireland whichever of his sons he might choose. On the strength of
this permission he seems to have reverted to his original scheme of
conquering the whole island.[922] In May 1177 he publicly announced
his intention of bestowing the realm of Ireland upon his youngest son
John, and parcelled out the southern half of the country among a
number of feudal tenants, who did homage for their new fiefs to him
and John in a great council at Oxford.[923] As however John was too
young to undertake the government in person, his father was again
compelled to choose a viceroy. He fell back upon his earliest choice
and re-appointed Hugh de Lacy;[924] and with the exception of a
temporary disgrace in 1181,[925] it was Hugh who occupied this somewhat
thankless office during the next seven years. With the internal history
of Ireland during his administration and throughout the rest of Henry’s
reign we are not called upon to deal here; for important as are its
bearings upon the history of England, their importance did not become
apparent till a much later time than that of the Angevin kings.
[920] _Art de vérifier les Dates_, vol. xvii. p. 165.
[921] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 124. Rog. Howden as above, p.
100. Cf. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 415.
[922] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 161.
[923] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 162–165. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 133–135.
[924] The _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 161, seem to imply that
the appointment was given to Hugh of Chester. After relating
the earl’s restoration to his lands and honours, they add: “Et
postea præcepit ei [rex] ut iret in Hiberniam ad subjiciendum
eam sibi et Johanni filio suo ... et præcepit prædicto comiti
ut debellaret reges et potentes Hiberniæ qui subjectionem ei
facere noluerunt.” Hugh de Lacy is named simply in the general
list of those who were to accompany him. But Gerald (_Expugn.
Hibern._, l. ii. c. 20, Dimock, vol. v. p. 347), says that Hugh
de Lacy was re-appointed viceroy at this time. That he acted as
such for the next seven years is certain, while there is, as
far as I know, no indication that his namesake of Chester ever
was in Ireland at all. It seems therefore that either the earl
refused the office--or the king changed his mind--or the author
of the _Gesta_, confused by the identity of Christian names,
has substituted one Hugh for another.
[925] When he was superseded for about half a year by John
de Vesci (the constable of Chester) and Richard de Pec. Gir.
Cambr. as above, c. 23 (pp. 355, 356). _Gesta Hen._ as above,
p. 270.
[Illustration: Map V.
FRANCE & BURGUNDY cir. 1180.
Shewing the growth of the Angevin Empire from the time of Fulk the
Black.
_Anjou 987, Touraine 1044, Maine 1111, Normandy 1144, Aquitaine and
Gascony 1152, England 1154, Nantes 1158, Quercy 1160, Britanny 1169,
Overlordship of Toulouse 1173._
Key: _Royal Domain (France)_
_House of St. Gilles (Toulouse)_
_Aragon_
_Provence_ _Maurienne_
Wagner & Debes’ Geogˡ. Estabᵗ. Leipsic. London, Macmillan & Co.
]
It is during these years of prosperity and peace that we are able to
get the clearest view of the scope and aims of Henry’s general scheme
of home and foreign policy. That policy, when fully matured in its
author’s mind, formed a consistent whole; it was however made up of two
distinct parts, originating in the twofold position of Henry himself.
His empire extended from the western shores of Ireland to the Cévennes,
and from the northernmost point of the mainland of Britain to the
Pyrenees. But this empire was composed of a number of separate members
over which his authority differed greatly in character and degree.
These members, again, fell into two well-marked groups. Over the one
group Henry ruled as supreme head; no other sovereign had ever claimed
to be his superior, none now claimed to be even his equal, within the
British Isles. In the other group, however, he had at least a nominal
superior in the king of France. It was impossible to deal with these
two groups of states on one and the same principle; and Henry had
never attempted to do so. The one group had its centre in England, the
other in Anjou. As a necessary consequence, Henry’s policy had also
two centres throughout his reign. The key to it as a whole lies in
its blending of two characters united in one person, yet essentially
distinct: the character of the king of England and supreme lord of the
British Isles, and the character of the head of the house of Anjou.
Henry himself evidently kept the two characters distinct in his own
mind. His policy as king of England, however little it may have been
consciously aimed at such a result--and we should surely be doing a
great injustice to Henry’s sagacity if we doubted that it was so aimed,
at least in some degree--certainly tended to make England a strong
and independent national state, with its vassal states, Scotland,
Wales and Ireland, standing around it as dependent allies. If he had
ever for a moment dreamed of reducing his insular dominions to a mere
subject-province of the empire which he was building up in Gaul, when
he thought of intrusting their government to his boy-heir under the
guardianship of Thomas, that dream had been broken at once and for ever
by the quarrel which deprived the child of his guardian and the king
of his friend. But, on the other hand, Henry certainly never at any
time contemplated making his continental empire a mere dependency of
the English crown. It was distinctly an Angevin empire, with its centre
in the spot whence an Angevin count had been promised of old that the
sway of his descendants should spread to the ends of the earth. Henry
in short had another work to carry on besides that of Cnut and William
and Henry I. He had to carry on also the work of Fulk the Black and
Geoffrey Martel and Fulk V.; and although to us who know how speedy was
to be its overthrow that work looks a comparatively small matter, yet
at the time it may well have seemed equally important with the other
in the eyes both of Henry and of his contemporaries. While what may be
called the English thread in the somewhat tangled skein of Henry’s life
runs smoothly and uneventfully on from the year 1175 to the end, it is
this Angevin thread which forms the clue to the political and personal,
as distinguished from the social and constitutional, interest of all
the remaining years of his reign. And from this interest, although its
centre is at Angers, England is not excluded. For the whole continental
relations of Henry were coloured by his position as an English king;
and the whole foreign relations of England, from his day to our own,
have been coloured by the fact that her second King Henry was also
head of the Angevin house when that house was at the height of its
continental power and glory.
The prophecy said to have been made to Fulk the Good was now literally
fulfilled. The dominions of his posterity reached to the uttermost ends
of the known world. In the far east, one grandson of Fulk V. ruled over
the little strip of Holy Land which formed the boundary of Christendom
against the outer darkness of unexplored heathendom. In the far west,
another of Fulk’s grandsons was, formally at least, acknowledged
overlord of the island beyond which, in the belief of those days, lay
nothing but a sea without a shore. Scarcely less remarkable, however,
was the fulfilment of the prediction in a narrower sense. The whole
breadth of Europe and the whole length of the Mediterranean sea parted
the western from the eastern branch of the Angevin house. But in Gaul
itself, the Angevin dominion now stretched without a break from one
end of the land to the other. The Good Count’s heir held in his own
hands the whole Gaulish coast-line from the mouth of the Somme to
that of the Bidassoa, and he could almost touch the Mediterranean Sea
through his vassal the count of Toulouse. Step by step the lords of
the little Angevin march had enlarged their borders till they enclosed
more than two-thirds of the kingdom of France. Fulk Nerra and Geoffrey
Martel had doubled their possessions by the conquest of Touraine to
the south-east; Fulk V. had tripled them by the annexation of Maine
to the northward; Geoffrey Plantagenet’s marriage with the heiress of
Normandy had brought him to the shores of the English Channel. The
whole series of annexations and conquests whereby his son expanded his
continental dominions to the extent which they covered thirty years
after Geoffrey’s death resulted simply from a continuation of the same
policy which, a century and a half before, had laid the foundations of
the Angevin empire. Count Henry Fitz-Empress stood in a figure, like
Count Fulk the Black, upon the rock of Angers, looked around over his
marchland and its borders, noted every point at which those borders
might be strengthened, rounded off or enlarged, and set himself to
the pursuit of Fulk Nerra’s work in Fulk Nerra’s own spirit. For such
a survey indeed he needed a more wide-reaching vision than even that
of the Black Falcon. The work had altered vastly in scale since it
left the “great builder’s” hands; but it had not changed in character.
Henry’s policy in Gaul was essentially the same as Fulk’s--a policy of
consolidation, rather than of conquest. He clearly never dreamed, as
a man of less cautious ambition might well have done in his place, of
pitting the whole strength of his continental and insular dominions
against that of the French Crown in a struggle for the mastery of Gaul;
he seems never to have dreamed even of trying to free himself from his
feudal obedience to a sovereign far inferior to him in territorial
wealth and power; he never, so far as we can see, aspired to stand in
any other relation to the French king than that which had been held by
his forefathers. He aimed in fact simply at compacting and securing his
own territories in Gaul, and maintaining the rank of the head of the
Angevin house, as the most influential vassal of the Crown. If he ever
saw, on a distant horizon, a vision of something greater than this, he
kept his dream to himself and, like Fulk of old, left his successors to
attempt its fulfilment.
[Illustration: Map VI.
MAP OF EUROPE cir. 1180.
Wagner & Debes’ Geogˡ. Estabᵗ. Leipsic. London, Macmillan & Co.
]
An ambition so moderate as this entailed no very complicated schemes
of foreign diplomacy. As a matter of fact, Henry was at some time or
other in his reign in diplomatic relations with every state and every
ruler in Christendom, from Portugal to Norway, and from the count
of Montferrat to the Eastern and Western Emperors. But these relations
sprang for the most part from his insular rather than from his
continental position; or, more exactly, they arose from his position
as a king of England, but a king far mightier than any who had gone
before him. It was the knowledge that Henry had at his back all the
forces of the island-crown which roused in Louis VII. such a restless
jealousy of his power in Gaul; and it was the jealousy of Louis which
drove Henry into a labyrinth of diplomacy and of war, neither of which
was a natural result of Henry’s own policy. A very brief glance at
Henry’s foreign relations will suffice to shew that they concerned
England far more than Anjou. A considerable part of them arose directly
out of his quarrel with the English primate. Such was the case with
his German and Italian alliances, designed to counterbalance the
French king’s league with the Pope. The alliances formed through the
marriages of his daughters were all strictly alliances made by the
English Crown. The immediate occasion of Matilda’s marriage with Henry
of Saxony was her father’s quarrel with S. Thomas; in another point
of view, this union was only a natural continuation of a policy which
may be traced through the wedding of her grandmother with Henry V. and
that of Gunhild with Henry III. back to the wedding of Æthelstan’s
sister Eadgifu with Charles the Simple. The marriages of Eleanor and
Jane were first planned during the same troubled time; in each case
the definite proposal came from the bridegroom, and came in the shape
of an humble suit to the king of England for his daughter’s hand;
and in the case of all three sisters, the proposal was laid before a
great council of the bishops and barons of England, and only accepted
after formal deliberation upon it with them, as upon a matter which
concerned the interests of England as a state.[926] When Jane went to
be married to the king of Sicily in 1176, the details of her journey
to her new home and of the honours which she received on her arrival
there were recorded in England as matters of national interest and
national pride.[927] When in the following year her sister Eleanor’s
husband, Alfonso of Castille, submitted a quarrel between himself and
his kinsman the king of Navarre to his father-in-law’s arbitration, the
case was heard in an assembly of the English barons and wise men at
Westminster.[928] Henry’s daughters in short were instruments of his
regal, his national, his English policy; for the carrying out of his
Angevin, his family policy, he looked to his sons.
[926] On the marriages of Matilda and Eleanor see above, pp.
55, 59, 60, and the references there given; on that of Jane,
_Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 116, 117; Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 94; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 408;
Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 32.
[927] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 414, 415, 418; _Gesta
Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 120, 127, 157, 158, 169–172; Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 95–98; Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol.
i. pp. 263–265.
[928] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 139–154; Rog. Howden as above,
pp. 120, 131.
The arrangement by which he endeavoured to make them carry it out is
however not very easy to understand or to account for. He had long
since abandoned his early scheme of devoting himself entirely to
continental politics and making England over to the hands of his eldest
son. That scheme, indeed, had been frustrated in the first instance by
his quarrel with Thomas; although it seemed to have been revived in
1170, it was as a mere temporary expedient to meet a temporary need;
and the revolt of 1173 put an end to it altogether, by proving clearly
to Henry that he must never again venture to delegate his kingly power
and authority to any one, even for a season. But, on the other hand,
it is not easy at once to see why, during the years which followed, he
persistently refused to give to his eldest son as much real, though
subordinate, power on the continent as he was willing to give to the
younger ones--why young Henry was not suffered to govern Anjou and
Normandy as Richard was suffered to govern Aquitaine and Geoffrey to
govern Britanny, so soon as they were old enough, under the control
of their father as overlord. So far as we can venture to guess at the
king’s motives, the most probable reason seems to be that he could
not part with any share of authority over his ancestral dominions
without parting at the same time with his ancestral dignities. From a
strictly Angevin or Cenomannian point of view, Aquitaine and Britanny
were both simply appendages, diversely acquired, to the hereditary
Angevin and Cenomannian dominions. Nay, from a strictly Norman point
of view, England itself was but an addition to the heritage of the
Norman ducal house. Henry might make over all these to his sons as
under-fiefs to govern in subjection to him, and yet retain intact his
position as head of the sovereign houses of Normandy and Anjou. But to
place his mother’s duchy and his father’s counties in other hands--to
reduce them to the rank of under-fiefs, keeping for himself no closer
connexion with them than a mere general overlordship--would have
been, in principle, to renounce his birthright; while in practice, it
would probably have been equivalent to complete abdication, as far as
his continental empire was concerned. Henry would have had as little
chance of enforcing his claim to overlordship without a territorial
basis on which to rest it, as a German Emperor without his hereditary
duchy of Saxony or Franconia or Suabia, or a French king without his
royal domain. In short, when Henry found it impossible to give England
to his eldest son, he had nothing else to give him, unless he gave
him all; and Henry Fitz-Empress was no more inclined than William the
Conqueror had been to “take off his clothes before he was ready to
go to bed.” All his schemes for the distribution of his territories,
therefore, from 1175 onwards, were intended solely to insure a fair
partition among his sons after his own death; his general aim being
that young Henry should step into exactly his own position as king of
England, duke of Normandy and count of Anjou, and overlord of Britanny,
Aquitaine, and all other dependencies of the Angevin and Norman
coronets or of the English crown.
None of the holders of these dependencies, however, had as yet entered
into full enjoyment of their possessions. At the close of their first
revolt, in 1175, the young king was but just entering his twentieth
year; Richard was in his eighteenth and Geoffrey in his seventeenth
year; and although the one had been titular duke of Aquitaine and the
other titular duke of Britanny since 1169, the real government of
both duchies, as well as that of Normandy and Anjou, had been until
now in the hands of their father. For the purposes of our story there
is only one part of these continental possessions of our Angevin
king into whose internal concerns we need enter at any great length;
a very slight sketch may suffice for the others. The part which lay
nearest to England, and which politically was most closely connected
with it--the duchy of Normandy--was also associated with it in many of
Henry’s legal, constitutional and administrative reforms. A comparison
of dates indeed would almost suggest that Henry, when contemplating
a great legal or administrative experiment in England, usually tried
it first in Normandy in order to test its working there upon a small
scale before he ventured on applying it to his island realm. An edict
issued at Falaise in the Christmas-tide of 1159–1160, ordaining “that
no dean should accuse any man without the evidence of neighbours who
bore a good character, and that in the treatment of all causes, the
magistrates of the several districts at their monthly courts should
determine nothing without the witness of the neighbours, should do
injustice to no man and inflict nothing to the prejudice of any, should
maintain the peace, and should punish all robbers summarily,”[929]
seems to contain a foreshadowing at once of some of the Constitutions
of Clarendon which created such excitement in England four years
afterwards, and of the Assize which followed two years later still. A
commission of inquiry into the administration of the Norman episcopal
sees and viscounties in 1162[930] was a sort of forerunner of the
great inquest into the conduct of the English sheriffs in 1170. This
again was followed next year, as we have seen, by an inquiry into the
state of the ducal forests and demesnes,[931] which has its English
parallels in the great forest assize of 1176 and in an inquest into the
condition of the royal demesnes ordered in the spring of 1177.[932]
On the other hand, a roll of the Norman tenants-in-chivalry compiled
in 1172 seems to have been modelled upon the English “Black Book” of
1168;[933] and when Henry determined to institute a thorough reform in
the whole Norman administration, it was at the English exchequer-table
that he found his instrument for the work. In 1176 William de Courcy,
the seneschal of Normandy, died. In his stead the king appointed
Richard of Ilchester. Richard, to judge by his surname, must have
been an Englishman by birth; from the second year of Henry’s reign
he was employed as a “writer” in the royal treasury;[934] about 1163
he was made archdeacon of Poitiers, but his archidiaconal functions
sat as lightly upon him as upon a contemporary whose name is often
associated with his, Geoffrey Ridel, archdeacon of Canterbury and
vice-chancellor; and throughout the struggle with Archbishop Thomas he
was one of the most active agents of Henry’s foreign diplomacy.[935]
Unlike his colleagues Geoffrey Ridel and John of Oxford, he contrived,
notwithstanding the ecclesiastical disgrace in which he became
involved through his dealings with the schismatic Emperor and the
antipope, to retain the general respect of all parties among his
fellow-countrymen.[936] Throughout the same period, when not absent
from England on some diplomatic mission, he frequently appears as an
acting justice of the King’s Court and baron of the Exchequer.[937]
He continued to fulfil the same duties after his elevation to the
see of Winchester in 1174; and the estimation in which he was held
is shewn by the fact that on his return from Normandy, where he was
replaced at the end of two years by William Fitz-Ralf,[938] a special
seat was assigned to him at the exchequer-table between the presiding
justiciar and the treasurer, “that he might diligently examine what
was written on the roll.”[939] He was evidently invested with far
more authority in Normandy than that which usually appertained to a
Norman seneschal--authority, in fact, more like that of an English
justiciar; indeed, he is actually called justiciar, and not seneschal,
by contemporary English writers.[940] His work in the duchy seems to
have been moreover specially connected with finance;[941] and we may
perhaps venture to see a trace of his hand in the organization of
the Norman Court of Exchequer, which first comes distinctly to light
in Henry’s latter years, its earliest extant roll being that of the
year 1180.[942] The earlier stages of the legal and administrative
organization of Normandy are, however, so lost in obscurity that
neither constitutional lawyers in Henry’s day nor constitutional
historians in our own have been able to determine the exact historical
relation of the Norman system to that of England;[943] and the
speedy severance of the political connexion between them makes the
determination of the question, after all, of little practical moment.
[929] Contin. Becc. (Delisle, _Rob. Torigni_, vol. ii. p. 180).
Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. pp. 459, 460.
[930] Rob. Torigni, a. 1162.
[931] Rob. Torigni, a. 1171. See above, p. 128.
[932] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 138.
[933] See above, p. 125.
[934] Pipe Roll 2 Hen. II., pp. 30, 31; 4 Hen. II., pp. 121,
122 (Hunter); 5 Hen. II., p. 20; 6 Hen. II., p. 57; 7 Hen. II.,
p. 48; 8 Hen. II., p. 21 (Pipe Roll Soc.)
[935] See the Becket correspondence, _passim_.
[936] Except, of course, the immediate personal friends of the
archbishop, to whom he seems to have been even more obnoxious
than the “_archidiabolus_” Geoffrey Ridel--that is, supposing
Mr. Eyton to be right in his theory that Richard of Ilchester
is the person designated in the private letters of Thomas
and his friends as “Luscus.” Canon Robertson, however, took
“Luscus” to mean Richard de Lucy; but the other interpretation
seems on the whole more probable.
[937] Madox, _Formulare Anglic._, p. xix (a. 1165). Eyton,
_Itin. Hen. II._, p. 130 (a. 1168, 1169). He was one of two
custodians of the temporalities of the see of Lincoln during
the vacancy caused by Bishop Robert’s death in 1167; _ib._ p.
99, note 5, from Pipe Roll 12 Hen. II.
[938] See Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 100, and the
editor’s note 3.
[939] _Dialog. de Scacc._, Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 178;
cf. _ib._ p. 184.
[940] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 124. “Curiâ sibi totius
Normanniæ deputatâ” says R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 415.
[941] R. Diceto as above.
[942] Edited by Mr. Stapleton for the Society of
Antiquaries--_Magni Rotuli Scaccarii Normanniæ_, vol. i.
[943] _Dial. de Scacc._ as above, p. 176. Stubbs, _Constit.
Hist._, vol. i. p. 438.
Even more obscure than the internal history of Normandy under Henry
II. is that of Anjou and of the two dependencies which may now be
reckoned as one with it, Touraine and Maine. There is in his time
throughout the whole of his dominions, with the marked exception of
England, a dearth of historical records. Normandy cannot boast of a
single historian such as those of the preceding generation, Orderic or
William of Jumièges; the only Norman chronicle of any importance is
that of Robert of Torigny, commonly known as “Robert _de Monte_,” from
the Mont-St.-Michel of which he was abbot; and even his work is nothing
more than a tolerably full and accurate chronicle of the old-fashioned
type, arranged on the annalistic plan “according to the years of our
Lord” which William of Malmesbury had condemned long ago. The Breton
chronicles, always meagre, grow more meagre still as the years pass
on; the same may be said of the chronicles of Tours; the “Acts of the
bishops of Le Mans,” our sole native authority for the history of
Maine, cease to record anything save purely ecclesiastical details. In
Anjou itself the recent aggrandizement of the Angevin house stirred up
in Henry’s early years a spirit of patriotic loyalty which led more
than one of his subjects to collect the floating popular traditions of
his race, as the ballads and tales of old England had been collected
by Henry of Huntingdon and William of Malmesbury, and weave them into
a narrative which passed for a history of the Angevin counts; and one
of these writers supplemented his work with a special memoir of Henry’s
father, Geoffrey duke of the Normans. But the reign of Henry himself
found no historian in the Marchland; and indeed the half-blank pages
of the few monastic chronicles which still dragged out a lingering
existence in one or two of the great Angevin abbeys shew us that under
Count Henry Fitz-Empress Anjou was once more, as of old under Count
Fulk the Good, happy in having no history.
Yet it is there, and there alone, that we can catch a glimpse of one
side of his character which, if we saw him only in England or in
Normandy, we should hardly have discerned at all. Strange as it seems
to us who know him in his northern realms only as the enterprising and
somewhat unscrupulous politician, the stern and vigorous ruler, the
hard-headed statesman, the uncompromising opponent of the Church’s
claims, Henry is yet the one Angevin count who completely reproduced
in his Marchland, as a living reality, the ideal which was represented
there by the name of the good count-canon of Tours. Fulk the Black and
Fulk the Fifth had both tried to reproduce it, each according to his
lights, during those few years when the pressure of external politics
and warfare left them free to devote their energies for a while to
their country’s internal welfare. But Henry’s whole reign was, for his
paternal dominions, a reign of peace. If we drew our ideas of him
solely from the traces and traditions which he has left behind him
there, we could never have guessed that he was a greater warrior than
Fulk Nerra; we should rather have taken him for a quiet prince who,
like Fulk the Good, “waged no wars.” These traces and traditions lie
scattered over the soil of Anjou, Touraine and Maine as thickly as the
traces and the traditions of the Black Count himself. Henry is in fact
the only one of the later Angevin counts who made upon the imagination
of his people an impression even approaching in vividness to that
left by Fulk the Black, and of whose material works there remains
anything which can be compared with those of the “great builder” of the
preceding century. But the memory which Anjou has retained of Henry
differs much in character from that which she has kept of Fulk; and
it differs more widely still from that which Henry himself has left
in his island-realm. In English popular tradition he appears simply
as the hero of a foolish and discreditable romance, or as the man
who first caused the murder of S. Thomas and then did penance at his
grave; and material traces of him there are literally none, for of his
English dwelling-places not one stone is left upon another, and not a
single surviving monument of public utility, secular or ecclesiastical,
is connected with his name. In the valley of the Loire it was far
otherwise. There the two great Angevin builders share between them the
credit of well-nigh all the more important monuments which give life to
the medieval history of the land--except the military constructions,
which belong to Fulk alone. It is not in donjons such as that of Loches
or Montrichard, but in palaces and hospitals, bridges and embankments,
that we see our Angevin king’s handiwork in his own home-lands. Almost
every one of his many local capitals was adorned during his reign with
a palace of regal dimensions and magnificence, reared by him in place
of the lowlier “halls” which had served for the dwelling of the merely
local rulers whom he succeeded. The rebuilding of the ducal palace
at Rouen was begun in 1161;[944] that of Caen was nearly finished
in 1180; its hall, which still exists, is the traditional seat of
the Norman Exchequer.[945] At Tours a round tower which still stands
in the barrack-yard is the sole surviving fragment of a castle which
Henry is said to have built. His favourite abode in Touraine, however,
was not at Tours but at Chinon, where the little fortress above the
Vienne which had been the last conquest of Fulk Nerra and the lifelong
prison of Geoffrey the Bearded grew under Henry’s hands into a royal
retreat of exquisite beauty and splendour--a gem, even now in its ruin,
worthy of its setting in the lovely valley of the Vienne, with the
background of good greenwood which to Henry was probably its greatest
charm. Angers, again, almost put on a new face in the course of Henry’s
lifetime. In the year before his birth it had been visited by a fire
which reduced to almost total ruin its whole south-western quarter,
including the palace of the counts,[946] of which nothing but the
great hall seems to have remained. The work of reconstruction, begun
no doubt by Geoffrey Plantagenet, was completed on a regal scale by
his son, and before the close of Henry’s reign a visitor from England,
Ralf de Diceto, could gaze in admiration at the “vast palace,” with
its “newly-built apartments, adorned with splendour befitting a king,”
which rose at the foot of the vine-clad hills above the purple stream
of Mayenne.[947]
[944] Rob. Torigni, a. 1161.
[945] _Mag. Rot. Scacc. Norm._ (Stapleton), vol. i. p. 56.
_Ib._ Observ. pp. xxvii–xxviii.
[946] Chron. S. Serg. a. 1132 (Marchegay, _Eglises d’Anjou_, p.
144).
[947] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 292 (_Hist. Com. Andeg._,
Marchegay, _Comtes d’Anjou_, p. 337).
But the count-king did not build for himself alone. It was, above
all, with works of public usefulness that he delighted to adorn his
realms. His beneficence indeed took a different shape from that of
his predecessors. Church-building and abbey-founding met with little
sympathy from him; throughout his whole dominions, only six religious
houses, in the strict sense, could claim him as their founder; and
even one of these was as much military as religious, for it was a
commandery of knights Templars.[948] But no sovereign was ever more
munificent in providing for the sick and needy. Not only do the Norman
Exchequer-rolls contain frequent mention of sums set apart out of the
ducal revenues for the support of lazar-houses and hospitals in the
chief towns of the several bailiwicks;[949] nineteen years before the
completion of his own palace at Caen, he had founded an hospital for
lepers outside the walls of the town;[950] and a park and hunting-lodge
which he had made for himself in the same year, 1161, at Quévilly by
Rouen[951] were shortly afterwards given up by him to a colony of
monks from Grandmont in Aquitaine, to be converted under their care
into another great asylum for victims of the same disease.[952] At
his own native Le Mans, the great hall of an almshouse or hospital
outside the north-eastern boundary of the city, said to have been
reared by him for the reception of its poor and sick folk, is still
to be seen, though long since perverted to other uses. At Angers,
on the other hand, it is only within the last half-century that the
sick and disabled poor have exchanged for a more modern dwelling the
shelter provided for them by Henry Fitz-Empress. Some time in the quiet
years which followed the barons’ revolt, Stephen,[953] the seneschal
of Anjou, bought of the abbess and convent of our Lady of Charity at
Angers a plot of ground which lay between their abbey and the river,
and on which he designed to build an hospice for the poor. In the
last days of 1180 or the first days of 1181 the count-king took under
his own care the work which his seneschal had begun, granted to the
new hospital a rich endowment in lands and revenues, exempted it from
secular charges and imposts, and won from Pope Alexander a confirmation
of its spiritual independence.[954] Four priests were appointed to
minister to the spiritual needs of its inmates; the care of their
bodies was undertaken at first, it seems, by some pious laymen bound
by no special rule; some years later, however, the hospital became,
like most other establishments of the kind, affiliated to the Order of
S. Augustine.[955] The pretty little chapel--dedicated to S. John the
Baptist, and still standing,--the cloisters and the domestic offices
were all finished before Henry’s death;[956] while of the two great
pillared halls which now form the chief architectural glory of the
suburb, one, the smaller and simpler, is clearly of his building;
and the other, more vast and beautiful, is in all probability the
last legacy of his sons to the home which was soon to be theirs no
longer.[957]
[948] Founded in 1173, at Vaubourg in the forest of Roumare--an
old hunting-seat of his Norman grandfather; Stapleton, _Mag.
Rot. Scacc. Norm._, vol. i., Observ., p. cxli. Of the other
houses, three were Austin priories: S. Laurence at Beauvoir
in the forest of Lions, founded while Henry was still only
duke of Normandy (_ib._ p. cxiv); Newstead, in Sherwood
Forest, founded before 1174 (its foundation-charter, dated at
Clarendon, has no mention of day or year, but is witnessed
by “Geoffrey archdeacon of Canterbury,” who in 1174 became a
bishop; Dugdale, _Monast. Angl._, vol. vi. pt. i. p. 474); and
the priory “B. Mariæ Mellinensis,” near La Flèche, founded in
1180 (_Gall. Christ._, vol. xiv. col. 600. I cannot identify
this place). The other two were Carthusian houses, Witham
in the forest of Selwood and Le Liget in that of Loches,
founded respectively in 1174 and 1175. (The date of Le Liget
is traditional; I cannot find any mention of the place in
_Gall. Christ._) Of all these, Witham is the only one of any
consequence; and the importance of even Witham lies chiefly in
its connexion with S. Hugh. (For its history see _Magna Vita
S. Hugonis_, Dimock, pp. 52 _et seq._) The insignificance of
the others is shewn by Gerald’s account of Henry’s religious
foundations, in _De Instr. Princ._, dist. ii. c. 7 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., pp. 27, 28)--an account, however, which is by
no means fair. Henry on his absolution for S. Thomas’s death,
in 1172, promised to go on a crusade of three years’ duration
(Rog. Howden, Stubbs, vol. ii. p. 37); this undertaking he was
afterwards allowed to exchange for a promise that he would
build three religious houses in his dominions. According to
Gerald, he managed one of these by turning the nuns out of
Amesbury and putting a colony from Fontevraud in their place
(see _Gesta Hen._, Stubbs, vol. i. pp. 134–136, 165), and
another by turning the secular canons out of Waltham and
putting regulars in their place (_ib._ pp. 134, 135, 173, 174,
316, 317. Both these transactions took place in 1177.) “Tertium
vero,” says Gerald (as above) “vel nullum, vel simile prioribus
sibique prorsus inutile fecit; nisi forte domum conventualem
ordinis Cartusiensis de Witham, s. modicis sumptibus et exilem,
ad hoc fecisse dicatur.” No doubt Witham was one of the three.
But the other two are easily found; they were Newstead and
Vaubourg or Le Liget. R. Niger (Anstruther, p. 168) is as
unjust to Henry in this matter as Gerald; but so he is on most
others also.
[949] See Stapleton, _Mag. Rot. Scacc. Norm._, vol. i.,
Observ., pp. lix., lxi., lxvii.
[950] _Ib._ p. ci. Rob. Torigni, a. 1161.
[951] Rob. Torigni, a. 1161.
[952] See Stapleton as above, pp. cxlvi–cxlvii.
[953] Of Marçay--or Matha--or Turnham; authorities differ so
much as to his identity that I dare not venture upon adopting
either surname.
[954] C. Port, _Cartulaire de l’Hopital St. Jean d’Angers_, pp.
2–10, ii–vi.
[955] _Ib._ pp. 11–13.
[956] _Ib._ p. xiv.
[957] On the hospital-buildings see an article by M. D’Espinay
in _Revue de l’Anjou_, vol. xii. (1874), pp. 264–273.
This Hospice of S. John formed a third with Fulk Nerra’s abbey of S.
Nicolas and Hildegard’s nunnery of our Lady of Charity in the group of
pious and charitable foundations round which there gathered, on the
meadows that bordered the right bank of the Mayenne, the suburb now
known as Ronceray or La Doutre,--a suburb which even before the close
of Henry’s reign had grown almost as populous as Angers itself, and
was actually preferred to it as a residence by Ralf de Diceto.[958]
Twice in Henry’s reign the bridge which linked it to the city was
destroyed by fire;[959] the present “Grand-Pont” probably owes its
erection to him. Fire was, however, by no means the most destructive
element in the valleys of the Loire and its tributaries. “Well-nigh
disappearing in summer, choked within their sandy beds,” these streams
were all too apt, as Ralf de Diceto says of the Mayenne, to “rage and
swell in winter like the sea;”[960] and the greatest and most lasting
of all Henry’s material benefactions to Anjou was the embankment or
“_Levée_”--a work which he seems characteristically to have planned and
executed in the very midst of his struggle with the Church[961]--which
stretches along Loire-side, from Ponts-de-Cé, just above the junction
of the Mayenne and the Loire, some thirty miles eastward to Bourgueil.
Further south, in the valley of the Vienne, the legend of the “Pont de
l’Annonain” illustrates the curious but not altogether unaccountable
confusion which grew up in popular imagination between the two great
builders of Anjou. The “bridge,” a long viaduct which stretched from
Chinon across river and meadow south-westward to the village of
Rivière, was in reality built by Henry to secure a safe transit from
Chinon into Poitou across the low ground on the south bank of the
Vienne, which in rainy seasons was an all but impassable swamp. Later
ages, however, connected it with a dim tradition, which still lingered
in the district, of the wonderful night-ride across Loire and Vienne
whereby Fulk Nerra had won Saumur, and in the belief of the peasantry
the Pont de l’Annonain became a “devil’s bridge,” built in a single
night by the Black Count’s familiar demon[962]--a demon who is but
a popular personification of that spirit of dauntless enterprise
and ceaseless activity which, alike in their material and in their
political workmanship, was the secret of Henry’s success no less than
of Fulk’s.
[958] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 292 (_Hist. Com. Andeg._,
Marchegay, _Comtes d’Anjou_, p. 337).
[959] In 1167 and 1177. Chron. S. Serg. a. 1167 and 1177,
Chron. S. Albin. a. 1177 (Marchegay, _Eglises d’Anjou_, pp.
149, 151, 44).
[960] R. Diceto as above.
[961] It was certainly made before 1169; see Rob. Torigni _ad
ann._
[962] See Salies, _Foulques-Nerra_, note civ., pp. 429, 430.
One portion, however, of Henry’s continental dominions has during
these years a political and military history of its own, which is not
without a bearing upon that of our own land. Geographically remote
as it was from England, still more remote in the character of both
country and people, Aquitaine yet concerns us more than any other part
of Henry’s Gaulish possessions. For not only was it a chief source of
the political complications which filled the closing years of his life;
it was the only one of those possessions whose connexion with England
survived the fall of the Angevin house. The heritages of Geoffrey and
Matilda were lost by their grandson; the heritage of Eleanor remained,
in part at least, in the hands of her descendants for more than two
hundred years.
It was in truth a dower at once valuable and burdensome that Henry
had received with his Aquitanian wife. She had made him master
of a territory whose extent surpassed that of all his Norman and
Angevin dominions put together, and was scarcely equalled by that of
England--a territory containing every variety of soil and of natural
characteristics, from the flat, rich pastures of Berry and the
vineyards of Poitou and Saintonge to the rugged volcanic rocks and
dark chestnut-woods of Auvergne, the salt marshes, sandy dunes, barren
heaths and gloomy pine-forests of the Gascon coast, and the fertile
valleys which open between the feet of the Pyrenees:--a territory whose
population differed in blood and speech from their fellow-subjects
north of Loire almost as widely as Normans and Angevins differed
from Englishmen; while in temper and modes of thought and life they
stood so apart from the northern world that in contradistinction to
them Angevins and Normans and English might almost be counted, and
indeed were almost ready to count themselves, as one people. It
was a territory, too, whose political relations varied as much as
its physical character, and were full of dangers which all Henry’s
vigilance and wisdom were powerless to guard against or overcome.
Setting aside, for the moment, the internal difficulties of Aquitaine,
its whole eastern frontier, from the banks of the Cher to the Pyrenees,
was more or less in dispute throughout his reign. The question of
Toulouse, indeed, was settled in 1173; thenceforth the county of
Toulouse, with its northern dependencies Rouergue and Alby, became a
recognized underfief of the Poitevin duchy of Aquitaine, to which its
western dependency, Quercy or the county of Cahors, had been already
annexed after the war of 1160. The north-eastern portions of the older
Aquitania, Berry and Auvergne, were sources of more lasting trouble.
Berry had long ago been split into two unequal portions, of which
the larger had remained subject to the dukes of Aquitaine, while the
smaller northern division formed the viscounty of Bourges, and was an
immediate fief of the French Crown. Naturally, the king was disposed
to use every opportunity of thwarting the duke in the exercise of
his authority over southern Berry; and Henry was equally desirous to
lose no chance of re-asserting his ducal rights over Bourges.[963]
The feudal position of Auvergne was a standing puzzle which king and
duke, count, clergy and people, all in vain endeavoured to solve.
During the struggle for supremacy in southern Gaul between the houses
of Poitiers and Toulouse, Auvergne, after fluctuating for nearly a
hundred years between the rival dukedoms, had virtually succeeded in
freeing itself from the control of both, and in the reign of Louis
VI. it seems to have been regarded as an immediate fief of the French
Crown, to which however it proved a most unruly and troublesome
possession. But the dukes of Aquitaine had never relinquished their
claim to its overlordship; and when a quarrel broke out between two
rival claimants of the county, it was naturally followed by a quarrel
between Henry and Louis VII. as to their respective rights, as overlord
and as lord paramount, to act as arbiters in the strife.[964] During
five-and-twenty years it was a favourite device of Louis and of his
successor, at every adverse crisis in Henry’s fortune, to despatch
a body of troops into Auvergne to occupy that country and threaten
Aquitaine through its eastern marches,[965] just as they habitually
threatened Normandy through the marches of the Vexin.
[963] His first attempt to do so was made in 1170, when a
pretext was given him by the declaration said--whether truly
or falsely--to have been made by the dying archbishop Peter of
Bourges, that his see belonged of right to Aquitaine. Nothing,
however, came of the attempt. See _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol.
i. pp. 10, 11.
[964] See Rob. Torigni, a. 1167.
[965] _E.g._ in 1164 (Ep. lx., Robertson. _Becket_, vol. v.
p. 115), 1167 (above, p. 58; Rob. Torigni _ad ann._), 1170
(Will. Fitz-Steph., Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii. p. 116; Ep.
dccxxii., _ib._ vol. vii. p. 400), and again in 1188.
Such a threat implied a far more serious danger in the south than
in the north. The Aquitanian border was guarded by no such chain of
strongly-fortified, stoutly-manned ducal castles as girt in the Norman
duchy from Gisors to Tillières; and Henry’s hold over his wife’s
dominions was very different from his grasp of the heritage of his
mother. Twenty years of Angevin rule, which for political purposes
had well-nigh bridged over the channel that parted England from Gaul,
seem to have done nothing towards bridging over the gulf that parted
Aquitaine from France and Anjou. If our Angevin king sometimes looks
like a stranger amongst us, he was never anything but a stranger
among the fellow-countrymen of his wife. Nowhere throughout his whole
dominions was a spirit of revolt and insubordination so rife as among
the nobles of Poitou and its dependencies; but it was a spirit utterly
unlike the feudal pride of the Norman baronage. The endless strife
of the Aquitanian nobles with their foreign duke and with each other
sprang less from political motives than from a love of strife for its
own sake; and their love of strife was only one phase of the passion
for adventure and excitement which ran through every fibre of their
nature and coloured every aspect of their social life. The men of
the south lived in a world where the most delicate poetry and the
fiercest savagery, the wildest moral and political disorder, and the
most refined intellectual culture, mingled together in a confusion as
picturesque as it was dangerous. The southern warrior was but half
a knight if the sword was his only weapon--if he could not sing his
battles as well as fight them. From raid and foray and siege he passed
to the “Court of Love,” where the fairest and noblest women of the
land, from the duchess herself downwards, presided over contests of
subtle wit, skilful rime and melodious song, conducted under rules
as stringent and with earnestness as deep as if life and death were
at stake upon the issue; and in truth they sometimes were at stake,
for song, love and war all mingled together in the troubadour’s
life in an inextricable coil which the less subtle intellects of
the north would have been powerless to unravel or comprehend. The
_sirvente_ or poetical satire with which he stung his enemies into
fury or roused the slumbering valour of his friends often wrought more
deadly mischief than sharp steel or blazing firebrand. The nature of
the men of the south was like that of their country: it was made up
of the most opposite characteristics--of the lightest fancies, the
stormiest passions, the most versatile capabilities of body and mind,
the most indolent love of ease and pleasure, the most restless and
daring valour, the highest intellectual refinement and the lowest
moral degradation. It was a nature which revolted instinctively from
constraint in any direction,--whose impetuosity burst all control of
law and order imposed from without upon its restless love of action and
adventure, just as it overflowed all conventional bounds of thought and
language with its exuberant play of feeling and imagination in speech
or song.[966] We may see a type of it in the portrait, drawn by almost
contemporary hands, of one who played an important part both in the
social and in the political history of Aquitaine throughout the closing
years of Henry II. and the reign of his successor. “Bertrand de Born
was of the Limousin, lord of a castle in the diocese of Périgueux, by
name Hautefort. He had at his command near a thousand men. And all his
time he was at war with all his neighbours, with the count of Périgord,
and the viscount of Limoges, and with his own brother Constantine--whom
he would have liked to disinherit, had it not been for the king of
England--and with Richard, while he was count of Poitou. He was a
good knight, and a good warrior, and a good servant of ladies, and a
good troubadour of _sirventes_; he never made but two songs, and the
king of Aragon assigned the songs of Guiraut de Borneil as wives to
his _sirventes_; and the man who sang them for him was named Papiol.
And he was a pleasant, courteous man, wise and well-spoken, and knew
how to deal with good and evil. And whenever he chose, he was master
of King Henry and his sons; but he always wanted them to be at war
among themselves, the father and the sons and the brothers one with
another; and he always wanted the king of France and King Henry to
be at war too. And if they made peace or a truce, he immediately set
to work to unmake it with his _sirventes_, and to shew how they were
all dishonoured in peace. And he gained much good by it, and much
harm.”[967]
[966] As John of Salisbury says--“auctor ad opus suum”:--
“De Pictavorum dices te gente creatum,
Nam licet his linguâ liberiore loqui.”
(_Enthet. ad Polycrat._, Giles, vol. iii. p. i.)
[967] From the two old Provençal sketches of the life of
Bertrand de Born, printed and translated into French by M. Léon
Clédat in his monograph _Du rôle historique de Bertrand de
Born_, pp. 99–101.
Until the dukedom of Aquitaine passed to a woman, as were the vassals,
so was their sovereign. Eleanor’s grandfather the crusader-duke William
VIII. and her father William IX. were simply the boldest knights, the
gayest troubadours and the most reckless adventurers in their duchy.
There can be no doubt that the submission of Aquitaine to Louis VII.,
so far as it ever did submit to him, was due to Eleanor’s influence;
and it was the same influence which chiefly contributed to preserve its
obedience to her second husband during those earlier years of their
married life when, at home and abroad, all things had seemed destined
to prosper in his hands. But at the first symptom of a turn in the
tide of his fortunes, southern Gaul at one rose against its northern
master. Eleanor’s tact and firmness, Henry’s wariness and vigour, were
all taxed to the uttermost in holding it down throughout the years of
his struggle with the Church; and when Eleanor herself turned against
him in 1173, the chances of a good understanding between her subjects
and her husband became very nearly desperate. Henry himself seems to
have long ago perceived that a duke of Aquitaine, to be thoroughly
sure of his ground, needed a different apprenticeship from that which
might befit a king of England, a duke of Normandy or Britanny, or a
count of Anjou. The very first step in his plans for the future of
his children--a step taken several years before he seems even to have
thought of crowning his eldest son--was the designation of the second
as his mother’s destined colleague and ultimate heir. Richard had been
trained up ever since he was two years old specially for the office of
duke of Aquitaine. After long diplomacy, and at the cost of a betrothal
which became the source of endless mischief and trouble, the French
king’s sanction to the arrangement had been won; and on Trinity-Sunday
1172 Richard, in his mother’s presence, had been formally enthroned
at Poitiers. He was probably intended to govern the duchy under her
direction and advice; if so, however, the plan was frustrated by
Eleanor’s own conduct and by the suspicions which it aroused in her
husband. She was one of the very few captives whom at the restoration
of peace in 1175 he still retained in confinement. Richard, on the
other hand, had been like his brothers fully and freely forgiven; and
while his father and eldest brother went to seal their reconciliation
in England, he was sent into Poitou charged with authority to employ
its forces at his own discretion, and to take upon himself the
suppression of all disturbance and disorder in Aquitaine.[968]
[968] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 81.
What had been the precise nature of Richard’s training for his
appointed work--what proportion of his seventeen years’ life had
been actually spent in Aquitaine, what opportunities he had had
of growing familiar with the people over whom he was now set to
rule--we have no means of determining. By his own natural temper,
however, he was probably of all Eleanor’s sons the one least fitted
to gain the goodwill of the south. The “Cœur-de-lion” of tradition,
indeed--the adventurous crusader, the mirror of knightly prowess and
knightly courtesy, the lavish patron of verse and song, the ideal
king of troubadours and knights-errant--looks at first glance like
the very incarnation of the spirit of the south. But it was only in
the intellectual part of his nature that his southern blood made
itself felt; the real groundwork of his character was made of sterner
stuff. The love of splendour and elegance, the delight in poetry and
music,[969] the lavish generosity, the passion for adventure, which
contrasted so vividly with his father’s practical businesslike temper,
came to him without doubt from his mother. The moral deficiencies
and evil tendencies of his nature he himself charged, somewhat too
exclusively, upon the demon-blood of the Angevin counts.[970] But we
need not look either to an ancestress so shadowy and so remote as the
demon-countess, nor to a land so far distant from us as Poitou, for
the source of Richard’s strongest characteristics both of body and
of mind. In him alone among Henry’s sons can we see a likeness to
the Norman forefathers of the Empress Matilda. His outward aspect,
his lofty stature, his gigantic strength--held in check though it
was by the constantly-recurring ague which “kept him, fearless, in a
tremor as continual as the tremor of fear in which he kept the rest
of the world”[971]--his blue eyes and golden hair, all proclaimed him
a child of the north. And although he spent the chief part of his
life elsewhere, the slender share of local and national sympathies
which he possessed seems to have lain in the same direction. The
“lion-heart” chose its own last earthly resting-place at Rouen, not
at Poitiers;[972] and the intimate friend and comrade whose name is
inseparably associated with his by a tradition which, whatever its
historical value, is as famous as it is beautiful, was no Poitevin
or Provençal troubadour, but a trouvère from northern France.[973]
The influence of his northman-blood shewed itself more vividly still
when on his voyage to Palestine, having lived to be more than
thirty years old without possessing a skiff that he could call his
own, or--unless indeed in early childhood he had gone a cruise round
his father’s island-realm--ever making a longer or more adventurous
voyage than that from Southampton to Barfleur or Wissant, he suddenly
developed not only a passionate love of the sea, but a consummate
seamanship which he certainly had had no opportunity of acquiring in
any way, and which can only have been born in him, as an inheritance
from his wiking forefathers. When scarcely more than a boy in years,
Richard was already one of the most serious and determined of men.
His sternness to those who “withstood his will” matched that of the
Conqueror himself; and Richard’s will, even at the age of seventeen,
was no mere caprice, but a fixed determination which overrode all
obstacles between itself and its object as unhesitatingly as the old
wiking-keels overrode the billows of the northern sea. He went down
into Aquitaine fully resolved that the country should be at once, and
once for all, reduced to submission and order. He set himself “to bring
the shapeless into shape, to reduce the irregular to rule, to cast
down the things that were mighty and level those that were rugged; to
restore the dukedom of Aquitaine to its ancient boundaries and its
ancient government.”[974] He did the work with all his might, but he
did it with a straightforward ruthlessness untempered by southern
craft or Angevin caution and tact. He would not conciliate; he could
not wait. “He thought nothing done while anything still remained to
do; and he cared for no success that was not reached by a path cut
by his own sword and stained with his opponent’s blood. Boiling over
with zeal for order and justice, he sought to quell the audacity of
this ungovernable people and to secure the safety of the innocent amid
these workers of mischief by at once proceeding against the evil-doers
with the utmost rigour which his ducal authority could enable him to
exercise upon them.”[975] In a word, before Richard had been six months
in their midst, the Aquitanians discovered that if their Angevin duke
had chastised them with whips, the son of their own duchess was minded
to chastise them with scorpions.
[969] See R. Coggeshall’s description of Richard’s love of
church music: “clericos sonorâ voce modulantes donis et
precibus ad cantandum festivius instimulabat, atque per chorum
huc illucque deambulando, voce ac manu ut altius concreparent
excitabat.” R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 97.
[970] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 27 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 154).
[971] _Ib._ c. 8 (p. 105).
[972] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 84.
[973] That is, if the Blondel of tradition is to be identified
with Blondel of Nesle.
[974] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 8 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 104).
[975] _Ibid._ (p. 105).
He set off at once upon a furious campaign against the strongholds of
the unruly barons. “No mountain-side however steep and rugged, no tower
however lofty and impregnable, availed to check his advance, as skilful
as it was daring, as steady and persevering as it was impetuous.”[976]
By midsummer the castles of Poitou itself were mostly in his hands, and
the young conqueror was busy with the siege of Castillonnes-sur-Agen,
which surrendered to him in the middle of August.[977] Before the
winter was over he was master of Périgueux, and had, in the phrase of
a local writer, well-nigh “disinherited” the barons of Périgord, the
Quercy and the Limousin. But in the spring their smouldering resentment
was kindled into a blaze by the incitements of Bertrand de Born, whose
brother Constantine, expelled by him from the castle of Hautefort which
the two brothers had inherited in common, had appealed to Richard
for succour; the signal for revolt, given by Bertrand in a vigorous
_sirvente_, was answered by all the malcontents of the district,[978]
and at the opposite end of Poitou by the count of Angoulême; and at
Easter Richard found his position so difficult that he went to seek
advice and reinforcements from his father in England.[979] Geoffrey
of Britanny arrived at the same time on a like errand. Henry bade
his eldest son go to the help of the younger ones; the young king
complied,[980] somewhat unwillingly, and went to collect forces in
France while Richard hurried back into Poitou. The peril was urgent; in
his absence Count Vulgrin of Angoulême had invaded Poitou at the head
of a host of Brabantines. The invaders were however met and defeated
with great slaughter at Barbezieux by Richard’s constable Theobald
Chabot and Bishop John of Poitiers.[981] By Whitsuntide Richard had
gathered a sufficient force of loyal Poitevins and stipendiaries from
the neighbouring lands to march against Vulgrin and his Brabantines
and defeat them in a battle near the border of the Angoumois and
Saintonge. He then turned upon the viscount of Limoges, besieged
and took his castle of Aixe, and thence advanced to Limoges itself,
which he captured in like manner. At midsummer he was rejoined at
Poitiers by his elder brother, and the two led their combined forces
against Vulgrin of Angoulême.[982] A fortnight’s siege had however
scarcely made them masters of Châteauneuf on the Charente when the
young king--seduced, it was said, by some evil counsellor whom we may
probably suspect to have been Bertrand de Born[983]--suddenly abandoned
the campaign and withdrew again to France. Richard, undaunted by his
brother’s desertion, pushed on to Moulin-Neuf and thence to Angoulême
itself, where all the leaders of the rebellion were gathered together.
A six days’ siege sufficed to make Vulgrin surrender himself, his
fellow-rebels, his city and five of his castles to the mercy of the
duke and the English king. Richard sent over all his prisoners to his
father in England; Henry, however, sent them back again, and Richard
put them in prison to await their sentence till the king should return
to Gaul.[984]
[976] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 8 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 105).
[977] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 101.
[978] See Clédat, _Bertrand de Born_, pp. 29, 30.
[979] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 114, 115.
[980] _Ib._ p. 115. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 93.
[981] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 407. He adds: “Sicque
salus in manu clericorum data satis evidenter ostendit
plerisque non animos deesse sed arma.”
[982] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 120, 121.
[983] See Clédat, _Bertrand de Born_, p. 35.
[984] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 121.
Northern Aquitaine, or Guyenne, was now for the moment subdued. As
soon as Christmas was over Richard proceeded to the reduction of
Gascony. Dax, held against him by its viscount Peter and by the count
of Bigorre, and Bayonne, defended by its viscount Ernald Bertram,
submitted each after a ten days’ siege; S. Pierre-de-Cize, on the
Spanish frontier, fell in one day; the Basques and Navarrese were
compelled to promise peace; the plunderings habitually inflicted by
the border-folk upon pilgrims to the shrine of S. James at Compostella
were suppressed; and from his court at Poitiers on Candlemas-day
Richard triumphantly reported to his father that he had pacified the
whole country.[985] But the peace did not last long. Trouble was
already threatening at the opposite end of the duchy. Ralf of Déols,
the wealthiest baron in Berry, had lately died leaving as his heir
an infant daughter. She was of course, according to feudal law, a
ward of her overlord, King Henry; but her relatives seized both her
and her estates, and refused to give up either.[986] Henry, probably
feeling that the boy-duke of Aquitaine had already more than enough
upon his hands, charged his eldest son with the settlement of this
affair, bidding him take possession of all Ralf’s lands without delay,
and significantly adding: “While I governed my realms alone, I lost
none of my rightful possessions; it will be shame to us all if aught
of them be lost now that we are several to rule them.” The young king
took the hint, marched with all his Norman and Angevin forces into
Berry, and laid siege to Châteauroux;[987] but he seems to have had
no success;[988] and there was no chance of help from Richard, for
not only was the Limousin again plunged in civil war,[989] but all
southern Aquitaine was in danger of a like fate--an attempt of Count
Raymond of Toulouse to exert his authority as overlord of Narbonne
with greater stringency than its high-spirited viscountess Hermengard
was disposed to endure having stirred up against him a league of all
the princes of Septimania and the Spanish border, under the leadership
of Hermengard herself and of Raymond’s hereditary rivals, the king of
Aragon and his brothers.[990] The way in which Raymond prepared to meet
their attack supplies a vivid illustration of southern character and
manners. He sought an ally in Bertrand de Born, and he appealed to him
in his character not of knight but of troubadour. He sent a messenger
to Hautefort to state his cause and to ask Bertrand, not to fight for
it, but simply to publish it to the world in a _sirvente_. Bertrand
answered readily to the appeal; he was only too glad of any excuse for
a _sirvente_ which should “cause dints in a thousand shields, and rents
in a thousand helms and hauberks.” “I would fain have the great barons
ever wroth one with another!” is the characteristic exclamation with
which he ends his war-song.[991]
[985] _Ib._ pp. 131, 132.
[986] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 127.
[987] _Ib._ p. 132.
[988] The _Gesta Hen._, as above, say Châteauroux was
surrendered to him at once; but we hear nothing more of it till
the autumn, and then we find that the elder king has to besiege
it himself; so if the younger one ever did win it, he must have
lost it again as quickly.
[989] Geoff. Vigeois, l. i. cc. lxix., lxx. (Labbe, _Nova
Biblioth._, vol. ii. pp. 322, 323).
[990] See Vic and Vaissète, _Hist. du Languedoc_ (new ed.),
vol. vi. pp. 69, 70; and the terms of the league, _ib._ vol.
viii. cols. 325, 326.
[991] Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, pp. 38, 39.
The strife thus begun for the mastery in Septimania was continued at
intervals between the houses of Toulouse and Aragon for many years to
come. The overlord of Toulouse, however, seems to have taken no part in
it as yet; and indeed, it had scarcely more than begun when Richard was
summoned away to meet his father in Normandy. Three times in the course
of that spring and summer had King Henry collected his host in England
for the purpose of going over sea to the help of his sons; twice had he
remanded it,[992] for the sake, as it seems, of continuing his legal
and administrative work in England. By midsummer however the tidings
from Gaul were such that he dared not further prolong his absence.
Geoffrey wanted his help in Britanny; Richard wanted it almost as much
in Aquitaine; the young king’s unaccountable lack of vigour in their
support, and in the prosecution of the war in Berry, was justly raising
suspicions of his loyalty to the family cause; and the treaty made
with Louis of France at the close of the last war was proving, as such
treaties too often did prove, only a source of fresh disputes. Henry
summoned Louis to fulfil his part of the agreement by handing over
the Vexin to the young king and the viscounty of Bourges to Richard,
according to his promise, as the dowries of their brides;[993] Louis
insisted that Henry should first complete his share of the engagement
by allowing Adela, who had been in his custody ever since the treaty
was signed, to be wedded to her promised bridegroom, Richard. At last,
in July, he succeeded in bringing the matter to a crisis by extorting
from a papal legate who had been sent to deal with a heresy that had
arisen in southern Gaul a threat of laying all Henry’s dominions under
interdict unless Richard and Adela were married at once.[994] The
English bishops appealed against the threat;[995] while Henry hurried
over to Normandy,[996] met first his two elder sons,[997] then the
legate,[998] then the French king,[999] and once again contrived to
stave off the threatening peril. At Nonancourt, on September 25,
the two kings made a treaty containing not one word of marriages or
dowries, but consisting of an agreement to bury all their differences
under the cross. They pledged themselves to go on crusade together,
to submit to arbitration the questions in dispute between them about
Auvergne and Berry, and to lay aside all their other quarrels at once
and for ever.[1000] Such a treaty was in reality a mere temporary
expedient; but it served Henry’s purpose by securing him against
French interference while he marched against the rebels in Berry. As
usual, he carried all before him; Châteauroux surrendered without a
struggle; the lord of La Châtre, who had stolen the little heiress
of Déols and was keeping her fast in his own castle, hurried to make
his peace and give up his prize.[1001] Henry used his opportunity to
advance into the Limousin and exert his authority in punishing its
turbulent barons;[1002] soon after Martinmas he and Louis met at Graçay
and made another ineffectual attempt to settle the vexed question of
Auvergne;[1003] a month later he was again in Aquitaine, purchasing
the direct ownership of one of its under-fiefs, the county of La
Marche, from the childless Count Adalbert who was purposing to end his
days in Holy Land;[1004] and at Christmas he was back at Angers, where
he kept the feast with his three elder sons amid such a gathering of
knights as had never been seen at his court except at his own crowning
or that of the young king.[1005]
[992] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 138, 160, 167, 168.
[993] _Ib._ p. 168.
[994] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 180, 181. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 143. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 271.
[995] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 181.
[996] In the night of August 17–18. _Gesta Hen._ as above, p.
190. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 421.
[997] Rob. Torigni, a. 1177.
[998] On September 11. _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 190.
[999] September 21. _Ibid._ Cf. Rog. Howden and Gerv. Cant. as
above.
[1000] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 191–194. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. ii. pp. 144–146; Gerv. Cant. as above, pp. 272–274;
shorter in R. Diceto as above, pp. 421, 422. The place and date
are from this last authority.
[1001] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 195, 196. Cf. R. Diceto as
above, p. 425.
[1002] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 196.
[1003] The proceedings on this occasion are worth notice.
Henry, it seems, tried to substitute for the arbitration of
three prelates and three laymen on each side (which had been
agreed upon at Nonancourt) his own favourite plan of sworn
inquest. He called together the barons of Auvergne, and
required them to certify what rights his predecessors the dukes
of Aquitaine had enjoyed in their country. They answered that
by ancient right all Auvergne pertained to the ducal dominions,
except the bishopric (Clermont), which was dependent on the
French Crown. To this definition Louis would not agree; so
they fell back upon the former scheme of arbitration--which,
however, seems never to have got any further. _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 196. This was apparently the last meeting
(except the one in England; see below, p. 216) between Henry
and Louis, and must therefore be the one of which a curious
account is given by Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii.
c. 1 (Angl. Christ. Soc., pp. 85, 86).
[1004] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 197. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 147, 148. Rob. Torigni, a. 1177. R.
Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 425, under a wrong year. Geoff.
Vigeois, l. i. c. 70 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._, vol. ii. p.
324). Henry received the homage of the under-tenants of La
Marche (_Gesta Hen._ as above); but he did not really get what
he paid for, as will be seen later.
[1005] Rob. Torigni, a. 1178.
For six months there was peace, and in July the king ventured to
return to England.[1006] He knighted his son Geoffrey at Woodstock on
August 6,[1007] and when the lad hurried over sea, eager to flesh his
maiden sword and emulate the prowess of his brothers, he could find no
more serious field in which to exercise his warlike energies than a
succession of tournaments on the borders of France and Normandy.[1008]
Richard however was again busy with more earnest fighting. The rivalry
between the houses of Aragon and Toulouse had stirred up the petty
chieftains of southern Gascony, whom the king of Aragon was seeking
to enlist in his service; and Richard was obliged to undertake a
campaign against the count of Bigorre in particular, which seems to
have occupied him till the end of the year. The defiant attitude of the
nobles of Saintonge and the Angoumois, and especially of a powerful
baron, Geoffrey of Rancogne, called him back at Christmas to Saintes;
as soon as the feast was over he laid siege to Geoffrey’s castle of
Pons; after spending more than three months before the place, he left
his constables to continue the blockade while he himself went to
attack the other rebel castles. Five of them were taken and razed
between Easter and Rogation-tide,[1009] and then Richard gathered up
all his forces to assault Geoffrey of Rancogne’s mightiest stronghold,
Taillebourg. It stood a few miles north of Saintes, on the crest of a
lofty rock, three of whose sides were so steep as to defy any attempt
to scale them, while the fourth was guarded by a triple ditch and
rampart. Three lines of wall, built of hewn stone and strengthened
with towers and battlements, encircled the keep, which was stored
with provisions and arms offensive and defensive, and crowded with
picked men-at-arms who laughed to scorn the rashness of the young duke
in attempting to besiege a fortress which all his predecessors had
looked upon as well-nigh unapproachable. But he cleared its approaches
with a ruthless energy such as they little expected, cutting down
vineyards, burning houses, levelling every obstacle before him, till
he pitched his tents close to the castle walls under the eyes of the
astonished townsfolk. A sally of the latter only resulted in making
a way for Richard’s entrance into the town; three days later the
castle surrendered, and Geoffrey himself with it.[1010] Ten days’ more
fighting brought all the rebels to submission and reduced Vulgrin
of Angoulême himself to give up his capital city and his castle of
Montignac in Périgord;[1011] and at Whitsuntide Richard went to report
his success with his own lips to his delighted father in England.[1012]
[1006] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 206, 207. R. Diceto as above,
p. 426.
[1007] R. Diceto as above.
[1008] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 207.
[1009] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 212, 213.
[1010] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 431, 432. Cf. _Gesta
Hen._ as above, p. 213, and Rob. Torigni, a. 1179.
[1011] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[1012] _Ibid._ R. Diceto as above, p. 432.
He returned shortly before Michaelmas,[1013] to witness the opening
of a new phase in the relations between the Angevin house and the
French Crown. Philip of France, the only son of Louis VII., was now
fourteen years old, and his father was desirous to have him crowned
king. Before the appointed day arrived, however, he fell sick almost to
death.[1014] Louis, half wild with anxiety, dreamed that the martyr
of Canterbury required him to visit his shrine as a condition of the
boy’s recovery.[1015] He hurried across the Channel; Henry met him at
Dover and conducted him to Canterbury, where they both spent three days
in fasting and prayer before the shrine; and on the fourth day after
his landing Louis re-entered his own country, to find that his prayers
were answered.[1016] His brief visit was long remembered in England,
where no king of France had ever been seen before,[1017] or was ever
seen again save when John the Good was brought there as a prisoner in
the days of Edward III. Scarcely, however, had Philip recovered when
Louis himself was stricken down by paralysis.[1018] This calamity made
him all the more anxious for his son’s coronation, which took place at
Reims on All Saints’ day. The archbishop of the province--a brother of
Queen Adela--performed the rite, assisted by nearly all the bishops of
Gaul; all the great vassals of the kingdom were present, among them
the young King Henry, who in his capacity of duke of Normandy carried
the crown before his youthful overlord in the procession to and from
the cathedral church, as Count Philip of Flanders carried the sword of
state.[1019] Like the crowning of young Henry himself, the crowning
of Philip Augustus proved to be a beginning of troubles. His father’s
helpless condition left the boy-king to fall under the influence of
whatever counsellor could first get at his ear. That one happened to be
his godfather, Philip of Flanders; and the policy of Flanders was to
get the boy entirely under his own control by setting him against all
his father’s old friends,[1020] and even against his mother, whom he
tried to rob of her dower-lands and persecuted to such a degree that
she was compelled to leave his domains and fly to her brothers for
the protection which her husband was powerless to give her.[1021] The
united forces of Flanders and of the Crown--for the latter were now
wholly at Philip’s command[1022]--were, however, more than a match for
those of Champagne and Blois; and the house of Blois was driven to seek
help of the only power which seemed capable of giving it--the power of
their old rivals of Anjou.[1023]
[1013] So it appears from an entry in the Pipe Roll of 1179;
Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 227.
[1014] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 240. According to Rob.
Torigni, a. 1179, Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._,
vol. v. p. 5), and Will. Armor., _Philippis_, l. i. (_ib._ pp.
99, 100), the boy’s sickness was the effect of a fright caused
by an adventure in the forest of Compiègne, very like that of
Geoffrey Plantagenet at Loches.
[1015] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 240–241. Cf. Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 192.
[1016] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 241, 242; Rog. Howden, as
above, pp. 192, 193; Will. Armor., _Philipp._, l. i. (Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.) pp. 100, 101. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 432, 433, relates the pilgrimage without
any mention of its motive; while Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), p. 293,
seems to think Louis came for the benefit of his own health,
not his son’s.
[1017] R. Diceto, as above, p. 433.
[1018] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 243.
[1019] _Ib._ p. 242. Rog. Howden as above, pp. 193, 194. R.
Diceto as above, p. 438. It is Roger who says that Henry
bore the crown officially--“de jure ducatûs Normanniæ.”
Ralf explains away the matter as a mere act of courtesy and
friendship.
[1020] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 244. Rog. Howden as above, p.
196.
[1021] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 196. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 6. Cf. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p.
294.
[1022] He had stolen his father’s royal seal, to prevent all
further exercise of authority on the part of Louis. R. Diceto,
as above.
[1023] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 244. Rog. Howden as
above.
The days were long gone by when it had been a chief part of the
Angevin interest and policy to set the French king and the house of
Blois at variance with each other. If Henry had needed any proof that
the rivalry of Blois was no longer to be feared, he would have found
it in the appeal for succour thus sent to him by Queen Adela and her
brothers, and supported by his own eldest son, who at Mid-Lent 1180
went over to England purposely to consult with him on the state of
affairs in France. Before Easter father and son both returned to
Normandy, and there held a personal meeting with the French queen,
her brothers Theobald of Blois and Stephen of Sancerre, and several
other victims of young Philip’s tyranny. Pledges of good faith were
exchanged, and summons were issued for a general levy of all Henry’s
forces, on both sides of the sea, ready to attack Philip after
Easter.[1024] Before the attack could be made, however, Philip had
got himself into such difficulties as to render it needless. As soon
as Lent was over he went into Flanders and there married a niece of
its count, Elizabeth, daughter of the count of Hainaut.[1025] He
then summoned all the princes of his realm to meet him at Sens on
Whit-Sunday for the coronation of himself and his queen. The marriage
had, however, given such offence that Philip of Flanders, in dread
of opposition to his niece’s crowning, persuaded the young king to
anticipate the ceremony and have her crowned together with himself at
S. Denis, early in the morning of Ascension-day, by the archbishop of
Sens.[1026] The wrath of the great vassals knew no bounds; and the
wrath of the archbishop of Reims was almost more formidable still,
for the exclusive right to crown the king of France was a special
prerogative of his see, and he at once forwarded to Rome an indignant
protest against the outrage done to him by his royal nephew.[1027]
Philip of France and Guy of Sens had in fact put themselves into a
position which might easily have become almost as full of peril as that
into which Henry of England and Roger of York had put themselves by
a somewhat similar proceeding ten years before. As, however, William
of Reims was not a Thomas of Canterbury, the consequences were less
tragic; and Henry himself must have been tempted to smile at the
turning of the tables which suddenly placed in his hands the task of
shielding Philip from the consequences of his rashness, and reconciling
him to the outraged Church and the offended people.
[1024] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 245. Rog. Howden as above.
[1025] _Ibid._ R. Diceto as above, p. 5. Gerv. Cant. as above.
Rob. Torigni, a. 1181 (a year too late). The bride is called
Elizabeth by her husband’s panegyrist, Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist.
Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. p. 7), and Isabel by another of his
biographers (_ib._ p. 258). R. Diceto calls her Margaret.
[1026] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 245, 246. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 197. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p.
5. Rob. Torigni, a. 1181. This last writer, whose chronology
has now become extremely confused, puts the event a year too
late. So does Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._,
vol. v.), p. 7. Rigord indeed gives an account of the matter
so different from that of the English writers--_e.g._ he
represents it as taking place publicly, amid a great concourse
of spectators--that one might almost suppose he was relating a
second coronation, performed in the following year. But there
seems no other record of any such thing; and there are some
details in his story which point to a different conclusion.
Not only does he, too, name the archbishop of Sens as the
consecrator--an outrage upon Reims which could not possibly
have been repeated--but he betrays his own confusion by giving
the date as June 1, 1181, and then describing the day as
Ascension-day, which in 1181 fell on May 14, but which really
was the day of the crowning in 1180 (May 29). The truth is
that the panegyrists of Philip Augustus are obliged to slur
over this first disgraceful year of his reign as rapidly and
confusedly as they can.
[1027] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 246. Rog. Howden as above.
There was a story that young Henry of Anjou, standing close behind his
brother-in-law Philip on his first coronation-day in Reims cathedral,
had bent forward to hold the crown upon the boy’s head, and thus
relieve him of its weight and keep it safely in its place.[1028] The
little act of brotherly kindness and protecting care may be taken as
typical of the political attitude which Henry’s father actually assumed
towards the boy-king of the French, and which he faithfully maintained
until Philip himself rendered its maintenance impossible. It was in
truth no new thing for a count of Anjou to act as the protector of a
king of France. But we may fairly question whether this traditional
function of the Angevin house had ever been fulfilled so honestly
and unselfishly as it was by Henry during the first two years of
Philip’s reign. It was Henry alone who, by his personal influence and
tact, brought Philip himself to reason and the count of Flanders to
submission.[1029] Next year, when Philip had been left sole king of
France by the death of Louis VII.,[1030] it was Henry whose mediation
checked an attempt of the Flemish count to avenge by force of arms the
loss of his influence at court;[1031] and when a few months later the
house of Blois, with characteristic inconstancy, made common cause
with Flanders against France, it was the prompt and vigorous action
of Henry’s sons which alone saved the royal domain from invasion on
all sides at once, and enabled their young sovereign to hold out
against his assailants till Henry himself came over to patch up another
settlement in the spring of 1182.[1032]
[1028] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 439. Rigord (Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 5, tells the same story
more briefly, and it is amusing to see how differently he
colours it.
[1029] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 246, 247. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 6.
[1030] September 18, 1180; _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 250;
R. Diceto as above, p. 7; Will. Armor., _Gesta Phil. Aug._
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 72. Rigord
(_ib._), p. 7, makes a confusion about the year.
[1031] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 277. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 260.
[1032] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 284–286. R. Diceto as above,
pp. 9–11. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 297, 300. Gir.
Cambr., _De Instr. Princ._, dist. ii. cc. 15, 16 (Angl. Christ.
Soc., pp. 42–47). Rob. Torigni, a. 1182.
Other needs, however, than those of the French Crown were once more
calling for Henry’s presence in Gaul. The condition of Aquitaine
only grew more unsatisfactory, in spite or in consequence of
Richard’s efforts to improve it. Henry’s bargain with Adalbert of
La Marche had failed to secure him the possession of that county;
the brother-lords of Lusignan claimed it as next-of-kin to Adalbert
as soon as the king’s back was turned, and made good their claim by
forcible occupation.[1033] The Limousin was again threatening revolt;
the town-walls of Limoges were razed by Richard’s order at midsummer
1181.[1034] Almost at the same moment the death of Count Vulgrin of
Angoulême opened a fresh source of strife; his two brothers laid claim
to his inheritance against his only daughter, whom Richard of course
took into wardship as a feudal heiress, and on Richard’s refusal to
admit their claims they made common cause with Ademar of Limoges.[1035]
The mischief however did not end here. Richard’s unbending resolve
to bridle Aquitaine had gradually stirred up against him the bitter
hatred of the whole people--a hatred for which his stern rule is quite
sufficient to account, without admitting the blacker charges brought
against him by the reckless tongues of the south.[1036] The voice of
Bertrand de Born had once more given the signal for a general rising.
A _sirvente_ which went forth from Hautefort in 1181 rang like a
trumpet-call in the ears of the lords of Ventadour and Comborn and
Périgord and Dax, of Angoulême and Pons and Taillebourg.[1037] But even
this was not all. Years before, it seems, there had flashed through
the troubadour’s quick brain a possibility of stirring up strife in
higher quarters than among the petty princes of his native land. Now he
distinctly saw the possibility of finding for the Aquitanian resistance
to Richard a rallying-point and a leader in Richard’s own brother.
[1033] Geoff. Vigeois, l. i. c. 70 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii. p. 324).
[1034] _Ib._ c. 72 (p. 326).
[1035] _Ibid._ He was their half-brother, the only son of their
mother’s first marriage.
[1036] Cf. _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 292, with Gerv.
Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 303, and Gir. Cambr., _De Instr.
Princ._, dist. iii. c. 8 (Angl. Christ. Soc., p. 105).
[1037] Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, pp. 44, 45.
One of the most puzzling figures in the history of the time is that of
the younger Henry of Anjou--the “young king,” as he is usually called.
From the day of his crowning to that of his death not one deed is
recorded of him save deeds of the meanest ingratitude, selfishness,
cowardliness and treachery. Yet this undutiful, rebellious son, this
corrupter and betrayer of his younger brothers, this weak and faithless
ally, was loved and admired by all men while he lived, and lamented
by all men after he was gone.[1038] The attraction exercised by him
over a man so far his superior as William the Marshal[1039] is indeed
well-nigh incomprehensible. But the panegyrics of the historians,
unaccountable as they look at first glance, do throw some light on
the secret of young Henry’s gift of general fascination. It was a
gift which indeed, in varying degrees, formed part of the hereditary
endowments of the Angevin house. But the character which it took in
Fulk Nerra or Henry Fitz-Empress was very different from that which it
assumed in Henry’s eldest son. The essence of the young king’s nature
was not Angevin. He had little either of the higher talents or of the
stronger and sterner qualities of the Angevin race; he had still less
of the characteristics of the Norman. It is by studying his portrait
as drawn in contrast to that of Richard by a hand equally favourable
to both that we can best see what he really was. “The first was
admired for his mildness and liberality; the second was esteemed for
his seriousness and firmness. One was commendable for graciousness,
the other for stateliness. One gained praise for his courtesy, the
other for his constancy. One was conspicuous for mercy, the other for
justice. One was the refuge and the shield of vagabonds and evil-doers,
the other was their scourge. One was devoted to the sports of war, the
other to war itself; one was gracious to strangers, the other to his
own friends--one to all men, the other only to good men.”[1040] Henry
in fact was at bottom what Richard never was but on the surface--a
careless, pleasure-loving, capricious, but withal most gracious and
winning child of the south. The most philosophic English historian of
the day was reduced to account for the young king’s popularity by the
simple and comprehensive explanation that “the number of fools is
infinite.”[1041] But it was not folly, it was a shrewd perception of
their own interest, which led the Aquitanians writhing under Richard’s
iron rule to see in his elder brother a prince after their own
hearts.[1042]
[1038] Except the ever-independent William of Newburgh; see his
l. iii. c. 7 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 233, 234).
[1039] See Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 279.
[1040] Gir. Cambr., _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 8 (Angl.
Christ. Soc. p. 106).
[1041] “Quia ut scriptum est, Stultorum infinitus est numerus.”
Will. Newb., l. iii. c. 7 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 234). The
quotation is from the Vulgate version of Ecclesiastes i. 15;
the English A. V. conveys a wholly different idea.
[1042] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 303. See also Gerald’s
other account of young Henry, _De Instr. Princ._, dist. ii. c.
9 (Angl. Christ. Soc., pp. 31, 32).
It was not the first time that Bertrand de Born had sought to kindle in
the young king’s mind the sparks of jealousy and discontent which were
always latent there.[1043] Now, he fed the flames with an unsparing
hand. In words of bitter satire he ridicules the position of the young
king, who bears the titles of a great sovereign, but has no authority
in his own land, and cannot even claim the tolls upon the traffic along
its roads: “Barons of Aquitaine, are we not all of us better than a
carter who leaves his cart to go as it may, and counts his dues, if he
counts any at all, with trembling fingers?” “I prize a tiny tract of
land with honour above a great empire with disgrace!”[1044] Richard,
meanwhile, was playing into his enemies’s hands by an encroachment
upon territory which in name at least belonged to his brother. He had
built a castle at Clairvaux, between Loudun and Poitiers, but on the
Angevin side of the frontier. If the thought of resentment did not
occur to Henry, Bertrand took care to suggest it: “Between Poitiers and
Ile-Bouchard and Mirebeau and Loudun and Chinon some one has dared to
rear, at Clairvaux, a fair castle in the midst of the plain. I would
not have the young king see it or know of it, for it would not be to
his taste; but its walls are so white, I doubt he will catch sight of
their gleam from Mateflon!”[1045] The troubadour’s shafts were well
aimed, and they rankled. When King Henry returned to Normandy in the
spring of 1182 the Aquitanian rising was in full career; as soon as
he had composed matters in France he hurried to the help of Richard,
who was fighting the rebels in the Limousin; at Whitsuntide the counts
of Angoulême and Périgord and the viscount of Limoges came to confer
with him at Grandmont, but nothing came of the negotiations; Henry then
went to attack Pierre-Buffière, while Richard returned to the siege of
Excideuil. At midsummer the king was back at Grandmont, and Geoffrey
of Britanny with him; thence they went to rejoin Richard, who was now
busy with the siege of Périgueux.[1046] Matters were in this stage when
the young king at last made up his mind to advance into Aquitaine.
He was joyfully welcomed at Limoges on the festival of its patron S.
Martial--the last day of June. On the morrow, however, he joined his
father and brothers before Périgueux, and within a week peace was made;
Périgueux surrendered, its count and the viscount of Limoges submitted
to Richard, and only the brother-counts of Angoulême still remained in
arms against him.[1047]
[1043] See Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, p. 36.
[1044] _Ib._ p. 44.
[1045] _Ibid._
[1046] Strictly, of its suburb Puy-St.-Front.
[1047] Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. cc. 1, 2 (Labbe, _Nova
Biblioth._, vol. ii. pp. 330, 331).
Peace, however, never lasted long either in Aquitaine or in King
Henry’s family. His eldest son now again grew importunate for a
definite and immediate share in the family heritage. When this was
refused, he fled to the court of France, and was only recalled by
a promise of an increased pecuniary allowance for himself and his
queen.[1048] Aquitaine, as soon as Henry had left it, drifted into
a state of anarchy more frightful than any that had ever been known
there before; the sudden conclusion of the war had let loose all over
the country a crowd of mercenaries--commonly known as “Brabantines,”
but really the off-scouring of every land from Flanders to Aragon--who
wrought, as a local writer says, such havoc as had never been seen
since the days of the heathen northmen.[1049] The evil in some measure
brought its own remedy with it, for it drove the common people to
take into their own hands the maintenance of peace and order. A poor
Auvergnat carpenter, urged by a vision of the Blessed Virgin, set
forth under the protection of the diocesan bishop to preach the cause
of peace in his native district of Le Puy. Those who were like-minded
with him, no matter what their rank or calling, enrolled themselves
in a society bound together by solemn pledges for mutual support in
adherence to right and resistance to wrong in every shape; and in a few
years these “_Caputii_,” as they were called from the linen capes or
hoods which they always wore in fight, proved more than a match for the
Brabantines.[1050]
[1048] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 289, 291. Cf. Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 266, 267.
[1049] Geoff. Vigeois, l. i. c. 73 (as above, p. 328).
[1050] Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. c. 22 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii. p. 339). Rob. Torigni, a. 1183. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),
vol. i. pp. 300, 301. Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), pp. 11, 12.
Meanwhile, however, the warlike barons of Aquitaine were exasperated
at the failure of their league against Richard; and their anger
reached its height when at the conclusion of the Christmas festivities
held by King Henry and his sons at Caen, the young king of his own
accord renewed his oath of allegiance to his father, confessed his
secret alliance with Richard’s enemies, and offered to abandon it
and make peace with his brother if his father would but insist upon
the surrender of Clairvaux. Richard, after some hesitation, gave up
to his father the fortress in dispute.[1051] The incident apparently
opened Henry’s eyes to the necessity of clearly defining his sons’
political relations with each other; and while Bertrand de Born was
giving a voice to the wrath of his fellow-barons at the young king’s
desertion of their cause,[1052] Henry led his three sons back to
Angers, made them all take an oath of obedience to him and peace with
each other,[1053] and then called upon the two younger to do homage
to the eldest for their fiefs.[1054] Geoffrey obeyed;[1055] Richard
indignantly refused, declaring it was utterly unreasonable that there
should be any distinction of rank between children of the same parents,
and that if the father’s heritage belonged of right to the eldest son,
the mother’s was equally due to the second.[1056] The young king, on
the other hand, was on account of his entanglements with the Aquitanian
barons almost as unwilling to receive the homage as Richard was to
perform it.[1057] The end of the discussion was that Richard quitted
the court, “leaving behind him nothing but threats and insults,” and
hurried into Poitou to prepare for defence and defiance.[1058]
[1051] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 291, 294, 295.
[1052] Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, p. 47.
[1053] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 295. Cf. R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 18.
[1054] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 291. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 273.
[1055] _Ibid._ R. Diceto as above.
[1056] R. Diceto (as above), pp. 18, 19. _Gesta Hen._ (as
above), p. 292. Cf. Gerv. Cant. (as above), p. 303.
[1057] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 18. _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 292. The two accounts do not exactly
agree, Ralf placing at this point the young king’s confession
of his dealings in Aquitaine; while the story in the _Gesta_ is
extremely confused, because it is told twice over, in different
forms (pp. 291, 292 and 294, 295).
[1058] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 292.
In the first burst of his anger Henry bade the other two brothers
go and “subdue Richard’s pride” by force of arms.[1059] Immediately
afterwards, however, he summoned all three, together with the aggrieved
barons of Aquitaine, to meet him in conference at Mirebeau.[1060] But
the young king had already marched into Poitou and received a warm
welcome there;[1061] Geoffrey, to whom his father had intrusted his
summons to the barons, led a motley force of Bretons, Brabantines
and mercenaries of all kinds to Limoges;[1062] soon afterwards young
Henry joined him; with the viscount’s help they threw themselves into
the citadel,[1063] and set to work to raise the whole country against
Richard. He, in his extremity, appealed to his father;[1064] and Henry
at once hurried to the rescue. For six weeks he laid siege to the
citadel of Limoges;[1065] twice he was personally shot at, and narrowly
escaped with his life; twice the young king came to him with offers of
submission, and each time he was welcomed with open arms, but each time
the submission was a mere feint, designed to keep Henry quiet and give
the barons time to wreak their vengeance upon Richard.[1066] By Easter
matters were so far advanced that Bertrand de Born was openly calling
for aid upon Flanders, France and Normandy;[1067] and the dread of a
rising in this last-named quarter prompted Henry to send orders for the
arrest of those barons, both in Normandy and England, who had been most
conspicuous in the rebellion of 1173.[1068]
[1059] R. Diceto as above, p. 19.
[1060] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 295.
[1061] _Ib._ p. 292.
[1062] _Ib._ pp. 293, 295. Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. c. 6 (Labbe,
_Nova Biblioth._, vol. ii. p. 332).
[1063] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 293, 296. Geoff. Vigeois as
above. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 304.
[1064] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 274.
[1065] From Shrove Tuesday--March 1--to Easter. Geoff. Vigeois,
l. ii. cc. 12, 16 (as above, pp. 334, 336).
[1066] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 296–298. Cf. Geoff. Vigeois,
l. ii. c. 7 (as above, pp. 332, 333).
[1067] Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, p. 52.
[1068] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 294.
The young king at the same time quitted Limoges to make a diversion
at Angoulême. On his return, however, he found it impossible to
re-enter Limoges; its townsfolk had by this time so fully awakened to
his real character and to their own best interests that they drove
him from their walls with a volley of stones, shouting “We will not
have this man to reign over us!”[1069] He had already robbed them of
their wealth and stripped the shrine of their patron saint to provide
wages for his Brabantines;[1070] and the insult goaded him to yet more
unsparing plunder and yet more reckless sacrilege. From the castle
of Aixe, which he took on the Monday in Rogation-week, he advanced
to Grandmont, a religious house whose inmates enjoyed, amid the now
general decay of monastic sanctity, an almost unique reputation for
piety and virtue, and were known to be held by his father in especial
reverence and esteem. He wrung from them all the treasure they
possessed, and forcibly carried off a golden pyx, his father’s gift,
from the high altar itself. He then proceeded to Uzerches, where the
duke of Burgundy and the count of Toulouse met him with reinforcements
on Ascension-day; from Uzerches he moved southward to Donzenac and
Martel, and thence to Rocamadour.[1071] Rocamadour was the most famous
of the holy places of Aquitaine; besides the tomb of the hermit from
whom its name was derived, it boasted of a statue of the Virgin which
attracted as many pilgrims as the shrine of S. James at Compostella;
and among the treasures of its church, which was said to have been
founded by Zacchæus the publican, was a sword traditionally believed to
be the famous “Durandal”--the sword of the Paladin Roland, devoted by
him to the Blessed Virgin on the eve of his last campaign, and carried
to her shrine at Rocamadour after the disaster of Roncevaux. Heedless
alike of paladins and of saints, the young king stripped the shrine
of S. Amadour[1072] as he had stripped that of S. Martial; and local
tradition declares that he also carried off the hallowed sword, leaving
his own dishonoured brand in its place.
[1069] Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. c. 16 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii. p. 336). _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 299.
[1070] Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. cc. 13, 14 (pp. 335, 336).
[1071] _Ib._ c. 16 (p. 336).
[1072] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 278.
He had been ailing ever since he left Uzerches;[1073] now, on his
return to Martel, his baffled rage threw him into a fever, to which
other complications were soon added.[1074] Conscience awoke as death
drew near. From the blacksmith’s cottage[1075] where he lay awaiting
his end he sent a message to Limoges, imploring his father to come and
speak with him once more.[1076] Henry would have gone, but his friends,
in their natural dread of another trick, prevented him;[1077] he sent,
however, a bishop charged with a message of love and pardon,[1078]
and as a token of the genuineness of the commission, a precious ring,
said to be an heirloom from Henry I.[1079] The messenger was only
just in time. On the Tuesday in Whitsun-week the young king called
together the bishops and religious men who had gathered round him at
the tidings of his sickness, confessed his sins first privately, then
publicly, before all his followers, was absolved and received the
Holy Communion.[1080] For three more days he lingered, long enough to
receive his father’s message of forgiveness and to dictate a letter to
him, pleading that the same clemency might be extended to his mother
the captive Queen Eleanor, to his own young Queen Margaret, and to
all his servants, friends, adherents and allies;[1081] beseeching also
that his father would make atonement in his stead for the sacrileges
which he had committed against the holy places of Aquitaine, and would
cause his body to be buried at Rouen in the cathedral church of our
Lady.[1082] In the early twilight of S. Barnabas’s day he repeated
his confession, after which he begged to be wrapped once more in his
cloak, marked with the cross which he had taken at Limoges in petulance
rather than in piety. Now, however, he was in earnest, and when the
sacred symbol had rested for a moment on his shoulder he gave it to
his best-beloved knight, William the Marshal, charging him to bear it
to the Holy Sepulchre and thus fulfil his vow in his stead.[1083] He
then caused his attendants to strip him of his soft raiment, clothe
him in a hair-shirt and put a rope round his neck; with this he bade
the assembled clergy drag him out of bed and lay him on a bed of ashes
strewed for the purpose. There, lying as if already in his grave, with
a stone at his head and another at his feet, he received the last
sacraments;[1084] and there, an hour after nones,[1085] kissing his
father’s ring he died.[1086]
[1073] Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. c. 16 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii. p. 336).
[1074] _Ibid._ _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 300. Will.
Newb., l. iii. c. 7 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 233, 234).
[1075] “In domo Stephani cognomine Fabri.” Geoff. Vigeois, l.
ii. c. 19 (as above, p. 337). Is this to be taken literally,
or can it be merely a punning nickname applied to the lord of
_Martel_?
[1076] _Gesta Hen._ as above. Will. Newb. as above (p. 234).
[1077] Will. Newb. as above. Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. c. 17 (as
above, p. 337).
[1078] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[1079] “Annulum preciosum ... qui Henrici munifici Regis
olim extitisse narratur.” Geoff. Vigeois as above. Cf. Will.
Newb. as above, and Th. Agnellus, _De Morte Hen. Reg. jun._
(Stevenson, _R. Coggeshall_), pp. 265, 266.
[1080] Geoff. Vigeois as above.
[1081] Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. c. 24 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii. p. 339). _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 300, 301.
[1082] Geoff. Vigeois as above.
[1083] _Ib._ c. 17 (p. 337). Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p.
279. On young Henry’s vow of crusade see _Gesta Hen._ as above,
pp. 297, 298.
[1084] Rog. Howden as above.
[1085] Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. c. 19 (as above, p. 338).
[1086] Will. Newb., l. iii. c. 7 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 234).
CHAPTER VI.
THE LAST YEARS OF HENRY II.
1183–1189.
The unexpected death of the young king was a catastrophe almost
equally overwhelming to both parties in the war. Henry himself, when
the news was brought to him by the prior of Grandmont, whither the
body had been taken to be prepared for burial,[1087] went almost out
of his mind with grief.[1088] For a moment indeed friends and foes
alike seemed incapable of anything but mourning. Hero or saint could
scarcely have won a more universal tribute of affection and regret than
was showered upon this young king who, so far as we can see, had done
so little to deserve it. Stern voices like that of Bertrand de Born,
accustomed only to the bitterest tones of sarcasm, insult and angry
strife, melted suddenly into accents of the deepest tenderness and
lamentation.[1089] Sober-minded churchmen and worldly-wise courtiers,
though they could not deny or excuse the dead man’s sins, yet betrayed
with equal frankness their unreasoning attachment to his memory.[1090]
As his body, arrayed in the linen robe which he had worn at his
coronation--its white folds, hallowed by the consecrating oil, made to
serve for a winding-sheet--was borne on an open bier upon the shoulders
of his comrades-in-arms from Grandmont northward through Anjou, the
people streamed forth from every castle and town and village along the
road to meet it with demonstrations of mourning and tears;[1091] and at
Le Mans, where it was deposited for a night in the cathedral church,
the bishops and citizens forcibly took possession of it, refused to
give it up, and buried their beloved young king then and there by the
side of his grandfather Geoffrey Plantagenet.[1092].
[1087] Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. c. 20 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii. p. 338).
[1088] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 301. Cf. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 279, and Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._,
dist. ii. c. 8 (Angl. Christ. Soc., p. 30).
[1089] See Bertrand de Born’s two elegies on the young king,
Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, pp. 53, 54.
[1090] See Pet. Blois, Ep. ii. (Giles, vol. i. pp. 3–5); Gir.
Cambr. as above, c. 9 (pp. 31, 32); W. Map, _De Nug. Cur._,
dist. iv. c. i. (Wright, pp. 139, 140); and Th. Agnellus
(Stevenson, _R. Coggeshall_), pp. 265–273. The tone of the
real historians of the time is however somewhat different.
The _Gesta Hen._ is perfectly colourless, and even on the
young king’s death the writer adds not a word of comment, good
or bad. Rog. Howden, on the other hand (Stubbs, vol. ii. p.
279), openly gives vent to a feeling which may be expressed by
“So perish all the enemies of King Henry,” and grows almost
impatient with Henry’s grief. R. Diceto (Stubbs, vol. ii. pp.
19, 20) is as usual very cautious in the expression of his
personal opinions, but they also appear to be somewhat opposed
to the popular sentiment. The point of view taken by Gerv.
Cant. (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 305) is probably unique. The one
really judicial commentator on the whole affair is William of
Newburgh (l. iii. c. 7--Howlett, vol. i. pp. 233, 234).
[1091] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 20. Cf. Th. Agnellus
(Stevenson, _R. Coggeshall_), p. 268.
[1092] R. Diceto as above. Th. Agnellus (as above), p. 269.
_Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 303.
The political tide, however, turned as soon as he was gone. The
Aquitanian league suddenly found itself without a head; for Geoffrey
of Britanny, although the wiliest and most plausible of all the king’s
sons, was also the most generally distrusted and disliked.[1093] The
league broke up at once; on Midsummer-day Ademar of Limoges surrendered
his citadel and made his peace;[1094] and most of the other rebels soon
followed his example. By the end of the month Henry, having razed the
walls of Limoges and garrisoned with his own troops the castles which
had submitted to him, could venture to set out for Normandy;[1095]
while King Alfonso of Aragon, who had come to the help of his father’s
old ally, found nothing left for him to do but to join Richard
in an expedition against the one baron who still persisted in his
rebellion--Bertrand de Born.[1096] If Bertrand’s story may be believed,
it was Alfonso’s treachery which, after a week’s siege, compelled
him to surrender Hautefort.[1097] What followed shewed plainly that
the Aquitanian revolt was at an end. Richard made over Hautefort to
Constantine de Born, the troubadour’s brother and lifelong rival;[1098]
Bertrand, instead of calling his fellow-barons to avenge him as of
old, threw himself upon the generosity of his conqueror, and addressed
Richard in a _sirvente_ entreating that his castle might be restored
to him. Richard referred him to his father; Bertrand then hastened to
the king, who greeted him sarcastically with an allusion to one of
his own earlier _sirventes_: “You were wont to boast of possessing
more wits than you ever needed to use--what has become of them now?”
“Sire, I lost them on the day that you lost your son.” Henry burst into
tears; Bertrand was forgiven, indemnified for the losses which he had
sustained during the siege, and dismissed with a charter securing to
him from that time forth the sole possession of Hautefort.[1099] As a
natural consequence, his lyre and his sword were thenceforth both alike
at the service of the ducal house to whom he had hitherto been such a
troublesome and dangerous foe.
[1093] See Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. ii. c. 11
(Angl. Christ. Soc., p. 35). The author of the _Gesta Hen._
seems to look upon Geoffrey as the instigator of all his
brothers’ misdoings, and scarcely ever mentions his name
without an epithet of abuse.
[1094] Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. c. 18 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii. p. 337). _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 302. The date comes
from Geoffrey.
[1095] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 303.
[1096] Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. c. 18 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii. p. 337).
[1097] On the story of this siege see Clédat, _Bert. de Born_,
pp. 55–57, and Geoff. Vigeois as above.
[1098] Geoff. Vigeois as above.
[1099] Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, pp. 57, 58.
On his northward march Henry met with no opposition. The young king had
drawn to himself followers from all parts of the Angevin dominions, as
well as from those of the French Crown;[1100] but they had all been
drawn by a purely personal attraction, or by the hope of gain; their
action had no political significance; and the greater barons, warned
by their experience of ten years before, had remained entirely aloof
from the whole movement. On reaching Le Mans, indeed, Henry found the
old jealousy between Normandy and Maine on the point of breaking out
over his son’s dead body; the clergy and people of Rouen, indignant at
being defrauded of their young king’s dying bequest, were threatening
to come and destroy the city of Le Mans and carry off his body by
force. Henry was obliged to cause it to be disinterred and conveyed
to Rouen for re-burial,[1101] while he himself returned to Angers to
meet Richard and to receive Geoffrey’s submission.[1102] The quarrel
between the Cenomannians and the citizens of Rouen was however only the
smallest part of the troubles which arose from the young king’s death.
As Margaret’s only child had died in infancy, her brother Philip of
France at once demanded the restoration of her dowry, and especially
the fortress of Gisors. Henry refused to give it up; conference after
conference was held without result;[1103] at last, in December, a
compromise was made, Henry consenting to do homage to Philip for all
his transmarine dominions and to pay a money-compensation for Gisors,
which was to be left in his hands henceforth as the dowry not of
Margaret, but of her sister Adela, Richard’s affianced bride.[1104]
[1100] W. Map, _De Nug. Cur._, dist. iv. c. i. (Wright, p. 139).
[1101] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 303, 304. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 280. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 20.
Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 305. Th. Agnellus (Stevenson,
_R. Coggeshall_), pp. 269–272.
[1102] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 304.
[1103] _Ib._ pp. 304, 305. Cf. Rog. Howden as above, pp. 280,
281. According to the _Gesta_, one of Henry’s contrivances for
avoiding the restitution of the dower-lands was to declare
that he had bestowed them upon his own wife; and he set her at
liberty and made her go through the said lands to demonstrate
the fact. If so, however, she was soon put in prison again.
[1104] _Ib._ p. 306. Cf. Rog. Howden, as above, pp. 281, 284.
But a far worse difficulty remained. All Henry’s schemes for the
distribution of his territories were upset by the death of his heir,
and it was necessary to devise some new arrangement. It really seems as
if Henry’s first thought about the matter was that now at last he could
provide as he chose for his darling “Lackland”; for he at once bade
the English justiciar Ralf de Glanville bring John over to meet him
in Normandy. As soon as they arrived he sent for Richard and unfolded
his plan. Richard was now the eldest son; if he lived, he must in due
time succeed his father as head of the Angevin house. Henry had clearly
no mind to venture a second time upon the dangerous experiment of
crowning his heir during his own life. But, although we have no actual
statement of his intentions, it seems plain that he did intend to place
Richard, in every respect short of the coronation, in the same position
which had been held by the young king. Under these circumstances, if
the continental dominions of the Angevin house were to be redistributed
among the three surviving brothers, there was only one possible mode
of redistribution. Geoffrey could not give up Britanny, for he was now
actually married to its duchess;[1105] but Richard, in consideration
of his prospects as future king of England, duke of Normandy and count
of Anjou, might fairly be asked to surrender to his youngest brother
the duchy of Aquitaine. So at least it seemed from Henry’s point of
view. Richard however saw the matter in another light. Not because he
loved Aquitaine, but because he hated it--because for eight years he
had fought unceasingly to crush it beneath his feet--now that it lay
there prostrate, he could not let it escape him. Richard was generous;
but to give up to other hands the reaping of a harvest which he had
sown with such unsparing labour and watered with such streams of blood,
was a sacrifice too great for his generosity in his six-and-twentieth
year. He met his father’s demand with a request for time to think it
over; that evening he mounted his horse and rode straight for Poitou;
and thence he sent back a message that so long as he lived, no one but
himself should ever hold the duchy of Aquitaine.[1106]
[1105] Geoffrey and Constance were married in 1181; see a
document in Morice, _Hist. Bret., preuves_, vol. i. col. 687.
Rob. Torigni dates the marriage a year too late (Delisle, vol.
ii. p. 104 and note 4).
[1106] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 308.
After threatening and beseeching him by turns all through the winter,
Henry so far lost patience that he gave permission to John--now fifteen
years old--to lead an army into his brother’s territories and win an
heritage for himself if he could.[1107] It does not appear, however,
that any such attempt was actually made till after Henry himself had
gone back to England in June 1184.[1108] As soon as his back was
turned, his two younger sons joined to harry the lands of the eldest;
Richard retaliated by pushing across the Angevin border and making
a raid upon Britanny; and in November Henry found it necessary to
check the lawless doings of all three by summoning them to rejoin him
in England.[1109] On S. Andrew’s day a sort of public reconciliation
of the whole family took place in a great council at Westminster;
Eleanor was suffered to resume her place as queen, and the three sons
were compelled formally at least to make peace among themselves.[1110]
Geoffrey was at once sent back to Normandy;[1111] Richard and John
stayed to keep the Christmas feast with their father and mother amid
a brilliant gathering of the court at Windsor.[1112] Soon afterwards
Richard also returned to his troublesome duchy;[1113] for Henry had
now abandoned all idea of transferring it to John. Falling back upon
his earlier plans for his youngest child, on Mid-Lent Sunday 1185 he
knighted John at Windsor, and thence despatched him as governor to
Ireland.[1114]
[1107] _Ib._ p. 311.
[1108] _Ib._ p. 312. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 21.
[1109] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 319.
[1110] _Ib._ pp. 319, 320. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p.
288. Eleanor had been released in June in order that she might
welcome her daughter, the duchess of Saxony; _Gesta Hen._ as
above, p. 313.
[1111] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 320.
[1112] _Ib._ p. 333.
[1113] _Ib._ p. 334.
[1114] _Ib._ p. 336. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 34.
John sailed from Milford on April 24 and landed next day at
Waterford. Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. ii. c. 32 (Dimock,
vol. v. p. 380).
Meanwhile the king himself was again called over sea by fresh troubles
in Gaul. The king of France and the count of Flanders had been
quarrelling for the last two years over the territories of the latter’s
deceased wife, the counties of Amiens and Vermandois;[1115] Henry’s
last act before he left Normandy had been to arrange a truce between
them.[1116] Two months later--in August 1184--while Philip of Flanders
was away in England on a pilgrimage to the martyr’s tomb at Canterbury,
Philip of France broke the truce by stirring up his father-in-law the
count of Hainaut to attack Flanders in his behalf: Philip of Flanders
appealed for help to his other overlord the Emperor Frederic; the
archbishop of Cöln, who had been his fellow-pilgrim, at once joined him
in a counter-invasion of Hainaut;[1117] and the incalculable dangers
of a war between France and Germany were only averted by Frederic’s
wise reluctance to interfere, strengthened, we may perhaps suspect, by
the influence of the English king. It seemed indeed as if nothing but
Henry’s presence could avail to keep order in Gaul. When he returned
thither, in April 1185,[1118] his first task was to pacify another
quarrel between his own sons. This time the elder one seems to have
been the aggressor; and Henry grew so angry that he once more summoned
Richard to give up Aquitaine altogether, not, however, to either of
his brothers, but to its own lawful lady, his mother, Queen Eleanor.
Despite all her faults, Eleanor was reverenced by her sons; Richard
especially treated her throughout his life with the utmost respect and
affection; and the demand thus made in her behalf met with immediate
submission.[1119] For nine months Henry’s dominions were quiet, and
his hands were free to deal with the quarrels of France and Flanders.
But before he had succeeded in pacifying them, a further complication
was added. King Bela of Hungary made suit to Philip of France for the
hand of his sister the widowed Queen Margaret,[1120] and this at once
re-opened the question about her dower; for the agreement made two
years before had been conditional upon Richard’s marriage with Adela,
and as this event seemed as far off as ever, Philip again laid claim to
the whole dowry, including Gisors. He was however too much in need of
Henry’s assistance in his dispute with Flanders over the dower-lands
of Isabel of Vermandois to risk a quarrel with him about those of the
young queen; and by Henry’s tact and diplomacy both questions were
settled in a conference at Gisors itself early in 1186.[1121] The count
of Flanders gave up Vermandois to Philip Augustus,[1122] while Philip
and Margaret again consented, in return for a money-compensation from
Henry, to make Gisors over to him on the old condition--that Richard
should marry Adela without further delay.[1123] The condition however
remained unfulfilled. Richard was again despatched into Aquitaine,
not indeed as its duke--for Henry had placed all its fortresses under
officers of his own appointment[1124]--but still as his father’s
representative, charged in his name with the maintenance of obedience
and order.[1125] As for Eleanor, Henry had clearly never intended again
to intrust her with any real authority; and in April he carried her
back with him to England.[1126]
[1115] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 311, 312. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 309. On this quarrel cf. Rigord (Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), pp. 12, 13, and Gir. Cambr.
_De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 2 (Angl. Christ. Soc.,
pp. 88–90). This last version is extremely confused in its
chronology. The main facts of the case are these: Philip of
Flanders and Isabel his wife had no children, and they had
quarrelled (_Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 99, 100). Philip’s
heir-presumptive was his sister Margaret, wife of Count Baldwin
of Hainaut, and after her, her son, another Baldwin. In 1180,
however, Philip proposed, instead of leaving all his dominions
to his sister and her son, to settle the southern half of them,
comprising Vermandois and Flanders south of the river Lys, upon
her daughter Elizabeth, whom he had just given in marriage to
Philip of France. (_Ib._ p. 245.) He meant to leave them to her
on his own death; but when his wife died, in 1182 (_ib._ p.
285), Philip Augustus laid claim to her two counties as lapsed
fiefs. King and count went on quarrelling till 1186, when, as
we shall see, the matter was settled by the immediate cession
of Vermandois to Philip Augustus, who thereupon agreed to wait
for the rest till the Flemish count’s death.
[1116] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 312. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 309.
[1117] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 321, 322. Cf. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 288, and R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p.
32.
[1118] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 337. R. Diceto as above, p. 34.
[1119] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 337, 338. Cf. Rog. Howden as
above, p. 304.
[1120] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.),
p. 20. Will. Armor., _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 73.
According to the _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 346, Bela’s first
suit was to Henry, for the hand of his granddaughter Matilda of
Saxony; but Henry, “ut mos suus erat,” was so slow in answering
that Bela, tired of waiting, transferred his proposals to
Margaret. On the other hand, Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i.
pp. 336, 337, charges Henry with having contrived Margaret’s
marriage with Bela on purpose to get her to a safe distance,
whence neither she nor her husband could reclaim the dowry.
[1121] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 343. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 40. The last gives the date as March 10;
the _Gesta_ make it just before Mid-Lent, which was February 26.
[1122] Cf. Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.),
p. 13, with R. Diceto as above.
[1123] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 344. Cf. R. Diceto as above.
[1124] R. Diceto as above.
[1125] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 345.
[1126] _Ibid._ R. Diceto as above.
England was now his only refuge. In these closing years of his reign,
when the whole interest of the story centres round the person of
the king, the character of those few incidents which take place on
English ground is in striking contrast with the state of affairs which
occupied him in Gaul. While the Angevin dominions on the continent
were threatening disruption under their owner’s very eyes, each of
his visits to England was marked by some fresh indication of the firm
hold which he had gained upon his island realm and its dependencies,
or of the lofty position which England under him had acquired among
the powers of the world. Of the internal affairs of England itself,
indeed, we hear absolutely nothing save a few ecclesiastical details,
and of Wales and Scotland scarcely more. Henry’s first business after
his landing in 1184 had been to lead an army against South Wales;[1127]
but at the mere tidings of his approach Rees hurried to make submission
at Worcester.[1128] William of Scotland was in still greater haste to
meet the English king with a suit for the hand of his granddaughter
Matilda of Saxony,[1129] who was now in England with her parents. The
project was foiled by the Pope’s refusal to grant a dispensation,[1130]
without which such a marriage was impossible, owing to the descent of
both parties from Malcolm III. and Margaret. Henry, however, on his
next visit to England in 1186, proposed that William should wed in
Matilda’s place her kinswoman Hermengard of Beaumont.[1131] Hermengard
stood even nearer than Matilda in descent from Henry I., but there
was no obstacle to her marriage with the king of Scots; he therefore
willingly embraced the offer; and before the year closed the alliance
between the two kings was doubly cemented, first at Carlisle by the
final submission of Galloway to Henry, William himself standing surety
for its obedience;[1132] and afterwards, at Woodstock on September
5, by the marriage of Hermengard and William, to whom Henry restored
Edinburgh castle as his contribution to the dowry of the bride.[1133]
[1127] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 314. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 309.
[1128] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[1129] _Ib._ p. 313.
[1130] _Ib._ p. 322.
[1131] _Ib._ p. 347.
[1132] _Ib._ pp. 348, 349.
[1133] _Ib._ p. 351.
Henry is said to have received in the course of the same year another
proposal, from a more distant quarter, for his granddaughter’s hand.
According to one writer, Bela of Hungary had at first desired the
young Saxon princess for his queen, and it was only Henry’s long
delay in answering his suit which provoked him to transfer it to
Margaret.[1134] Both Matilda’s suitors must have been attracted solely
by the ambition of forming a family connexion with her grandfather
King Henry; and that attraction must have been a very strong one, for
at the time of William’s suit, if not at the time of Bela’s, it had
to counterbalance the fact that Matilda herself, her parents, and all
their other children, were landless and penniless exiles. To Henry’s
load of family cares there had been added since 1180 that of the
troubles of his eldest daughter and her husband, Duke Henry the Lion
of Saxony. During the retreat of the Imperial forces from Italy in
1179 the duke fell under the displeasure of his cousin the Emperor;
next year he was deprived of all his estates and placed under the ban
of the Empire. In the summer of 1182 he and his family made their
way to the sole refuge left them, the court of his father-in-law;
and there for the most part they remained during the next two years.
Towards the close of 1184 the English king’s influence in Germany
prevailed to obtain the duke’s restoration to his patrimonial duchy
of Brunswick;[1135] and another token of the eagerness with which
Henry’s alliance was sought may be seen in the fact that among the
conditions demanded by Frederic was the betrothal of one of his own
daughters to Richard of Poitou.[1136] This condition, which might have
added considerably to Henry’s difficulties in France, was annulled
by the speedy death of the intended bride.[1137] On the other hand,
the restoration of the exiled duke was far from complete; Brunswick
was only a small part of the vast territories which he had formerly
possessed; although he returned to Germany in 1185,[1138] it was as
a suspected and ruined man; and before Henry’s reign closed another
sentence of banishment drove him and his wife again to seek the shelter
of her father’s court.
[1134] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 346. See above, p.
235, note 5{1120}.
[1135] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 249, 287, 288, 318, 319, 322,
323; cf. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 199–201, 269, 288,
289.
[1136] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 319.
[1137] _Ib._ p. 322.
[1138] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 38.
Early in 1185 came a crowning proof of the estimation in which the
English king was held both at home and abroad. King Baldwin III. of
Jerusalem, the eldest son and successor of Queen Melisenda and Fulk of
Anjou, had died in 1162, the year of Thomas Becket’s appointment to the
see of Canterbury. He was succeeded by his brother Almeric, who died
while Henry was struggling with his rebellious barons in 1173. During
the twelve years which had passed since then, Almeric’s son, another
Baldwin, had fought on bravely against overwhelming odds to keep out
the Infidel foe. But the struggle grew more hopeless year by year and
day by day. The young king himself was in natural temper as gallant
a knight as ever sprang from the blood of Anjou; but he was crippled
physically, socially and politically by a disease which made his life a
burthen--he was a leper; his kingdom was torn by the mutual jealousies
of the kinsmen on whom he was compelled to rely for its government
and defence; while the political and military power of the Turks was
growing to a height such as it had never before attained, under their
famous leader Saladin.[1139] If the necessities of Palestine had
been grievous when King Baldwin II. had called upon Fulk to protect
Melisenda on her perilous throne--if they had been grievous when
Melisenda sought the aid of the western princes for her infant son
Baldwin III.--they were far more grievous now. But times were changed
in the west since Melisenda had been obliged to rest content with a
general appeal addressed to Latin Christendom through the abbot of
Clairvaux. Independent of the claim of the king of Jerusalem to the
sympathy and the succour of all Christian princes, Baldwin had a direct
personal claim upon one prince, and that one well-nigh the mightiest
of all. He himself represented one branch of the race whose power had
spread from the black rock of Angers to the ends of the earth; the
other, the elder branch, was represented by Henry Fitz-Empress. As
Baldwin’s nearest kinsman, as the foremost descendant alike of Fulk
the King and of Fulk the Canon, as head of the whole Angevin race on
both sides of the sea, it was to the Angevin king of England that the
Angevin king of Jerusalem appealed, as a matter of right and almost of
duty, for succour in his extremity.[1140] And he threw his appeal into
a shape which made it indeed irresistible. Henry was at Nottingham, on
his way northward to York, in the last days of January 1185, when he
was stopped by tidings that two of the highest dignitaries of the Latin
Church in the east, Heraclius the Patriarch of Jerusalem and the Grand
Master of the Hospital, had arrived at Canterbury on a mission from
Holy Land.[1141] He at once changed his course and hurried southward
again to meet them at Reading.[1142] With a burst of tears Heraclius
laid at the feet of the English king the royal standard of Jerusalem,
the keys of the city, those of the Tower of David and of the Holy
Sepulchre itself, beseeching him in Baldwin’s name to carry them back
at the head of his crusading host.
[1139] Will. Tyr., ll. xix.–xxii. l. xxi.; containing a most
moving account of Baldwin. See also Will. Newb., l. iii. c. 10
(Howlett, vol. i. pp. 240–247), and Bishop Stubbs’s elucidation
of the whole story and its significance in his introduction to
_Itin. Reg. Ric._, pp. lxxxi. _et seq._
[1140] “Sicut ab eo ad cujus nutum regnum Jerosolymitanum de
jure hæreditario prædecessorum suorum spectabat.” _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 328.
[1141] _Ib._ p. 335. They had come through France, and had been
received in Paris by Philip on January 16; Rigord (Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 14. They were at
Canterbury on January 29, and it seems that even the Patriarch
of Jerusalem, with the very keys of the Sepulchre itself in his
hands, thought it well to stop and pay his devotions at the
martyr’s tomb; Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 325. A third
envoy, the Grand Master of the Temple, had died on the way at
Verona; _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 331; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol.
ii. p. 32.
[1142] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 335; cf. R. Diceto as above.
Gir. Cambr., _De Instr. Princ._, dist. ii. c. 24 (Angl. Christ.
Soc., p. 59) places the meeting at Winchester.
The whole assembly wept with the Patriarch; and the king himself was
deeply moved.[1143] How many of his earlier projects of going on
crusade--now to Spain, now to Holy Land, now alone, now with the king
of France--had been mere political expedients, we cannot tell; there
may have been more sincerity in them than one is at first disposed
to imagine. Little as Henry cared for either war or adventure merely
for its own sake, still there flowed in his veins, no less than in
those of his young cousin Baldwin, the blood of Angevin pilgrims and
crusaders. The lifelong dream of Fulk Nerra and Fulk V. may have been
also the dream of Henry, although none of the three was a man to let
his dreams influence his conduct until he saw a clear possibility of
realizing them. Whether there was such a possibility now, however,
was a question whose decision did not rest with Henry alone. If he
was to head a crusade, he must head it not merely as count of Anjou
but as king of England, with all England’s powers and resources,
material and moral, at his back; and this could only be if England
sanctioned his undertaking. The “faithful men of the land”--the bishops
and barons, the constitutional representatives of the nation--were
therefore gathered together in council at Clerkenwell on March 18;
Henry bade them advise him as they thought best for his soul’s health,
and promised to abide by their decision. After deliberation, they gave
it as their unanimous judgement that he must remain at home and not
venture to abandon, for the sake of giving his personal assistance in
the east, the work to which he was pledged by his coronation-oath,
of keeping his own realms in peace and order and securing them from
external foes.[1144] Whether or not the decision thus arrived at
was wise for the interests of Christendom at large--whether or not
it redounds altogether to the honour of England--it was surely the
highest tribute she could pay to her Angevin king. A ruler from whom
his people were so unwilling to part had clearly some better hold over
them than that of mere force. That they shrank with such dread from any
interruption of his kingly labours is the best proof how greatly they
had benefited by those labours during the past thirty years.
[1143] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 335, 336. R. Diceto as above,
pp. 32, 33. Cf. Gir. Cambr. as above (pp. 59, 60).
[1144] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 33, 34. The author
of _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 336, dates the council
eight days earlier than Ralf, and finds nothing more to say
about it than “cum diu tractâssent de itinere Jerosolimitanæ
profectionis, tandem placuit regi et consiliariis consulere
inde Philippum regem Franciæ.” But the totally independent
versions of Henry’s answer to the Patriarch given by Gir.
Cambr., _De Instr. Princ._, dist. ii. c. 27 (Angl. Christ.
Soc., pp. 64, 65), and Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 32,
both distinctly support Ralf thus far, that they represent the
king’s refusal as grounded on the difficulty of reconciling the
proposed expedition with the fulfilment of his duty to his own
realms.
The Patriarch was bitterly disappointed, and vented his disappointment
upon Henry in unmeasured terms. In vain did he intreat that at least
John, the only one of the king’s sons then in England, might be sent
to infuse some new life into the rapidly-dying stock of the Angevin
house in Palestine. John himself, it is said, was eager to go,[1145]
but the king refused his consent, and six weeks later, as we have seen,
despatched him as governor to Ireland. This mission failed completely,
through John’s own fault. He was received with every demonstration of
loyalty both by the native princes and by the English settlers; but in
a very few months he contrived to set them all against him. He treated
the English leaders with the most overbearing insolence; he insulted
the Irish chieftains who came to bring him their loyal greetings at
Waterford more brutally still, mocking at their dress and manners,
and even pulling their beards;[1146] he sent the mercenaries who had
accompanied him from England to make a raid upon North Munster, in
which they were repulsed with great loss,[1147] and then exasperated
them to mutiny by keeping them penniless while he spent their wages
upon his own pleasure.[1148] By September he had brought matters to
such a pass that his father was obliged to recall him and bid John de
Courcy undertake the government of Ireland in his place.[1149] Henry
however was far from abandoning his cherished scheme. Blinded by his
fatal partiality for his youngest child, he was willing to attribute
John’s failure to any cause except the true one; he determined that
the lad should return to his post, but clothed with fuller powers
and loftier dignity. Taking advantage of a change in the Papacy, he
at once applied to the new Pope, Urban III., for leave to have his
son anointed and crowned as king of Ireland. Urban not only gave his
consent, but accompanied it with a gift of a crown made of peacock’s
feathers set in gold.[1150] Next summer there came to England news
that “a certain Irishman had cut off the head of Hugh de Lacy”;[1151]
Henry, seeing in this event an opportunity of recovering for the Crown
Hugh’s vast estates in Ireland, hurried John off thither at once[1152]
without waiting to have him crowned, or possibly intending that the
coronation should take place in Dublin. But before John had sailed, he
was recalled by tidings of another death which touched his father more
nearly.
[1145] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. ii. c. 27 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 65).
[1146] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, l. ii. c. 36 (Dimock,
vol. v. p. 389).
[1147] Four Masters, a. 1185 (O’Donovan, vol. iii. p. 67).
[1148] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 339.
[1149] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._ as above (p. 392).
[1150] _Gesta Hen._ as above. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii.
pp. 306, 307.
[1151] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 350. Cf. _ib._ p. 361;
Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 309; Four Masters, a.
1186 (O’Donovan, vol. iii. pp. 71–75); Gir. Cambr. _Expugn.
Hibern._, l. ii. c. 35 (Dimock, vol. v. p. 387); and R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 34. This last gives the day, July 25, but
places the event a year too early.
[1152] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 350.
Geoffrey of Britanny had gone to visit the French king in Paris; there,
on August 19, he died.[1153] No one regretted him, unless it was his
father, and Philip of France, who caused him to be buried with regal
honours in the cathedral church of our Lady in Paris, and followed him
to the grave with every demonstration of mourning.[1154] If report
spoke true, Philip’s grief was as sincere as it was selfish; for
Geoffrey had been cut off in the midst of a plot whereby he proposed,
out of spite against his father and elder brother, to withdraw from
them his homage for Britanny and become Philip’s liegeman, receiving
in return the title of grand seneschal which in the year of his own
birth had been conferred upon his father as a warrant for intervention
in the affairs of the Breton duchy.[1155] Faithful servants of the
English king were inclined to see in Geoffrey’s sudden end a divine
judgement upon this undutiful scheme.[1156] Philip however saw a means
of making his own profit out of Geoffrey’s death, quite as readily
as out of his life. He at once claimed, as overlord, the wardship of
the infant heiress-presumptive of Britanny--Eleanor, the only child
of Geoffrey and Constance[1157]--and with it the administration of
her duchy till she should be old enough to be married. Henry tried
to temporize,[1158] but the longer the negotiations lasted the more
complicated they became, as Philip kept increasing his demands. First
Aquitaine was dragged into the dispute. Its northern portion was just
now in a state of unwonted tranquillity, for at the close of the year
we find Bertrand de Born complaining that he had witnessed neither
siege nor battle for more than twelve months.[1159] Richard was in fact
busy in the south, at war with the count of Toulouse.[1160] Against
this Philip remonstrated, as an unjust aggression upon a loyal vassal
of the French Crown;[1161] he added to his remonstrance a demand for
Richard’s homage to himself for Aquitaine, and also--all prospect of
Adela’s marriage being now apparently at an end--for the definite
restitution of Gisors.[1162] While the two kings were negotiating,
actual hostilities broke out between some of their constables on the
border; the warlike zeal of both parties, however, died down at the
approach of Christmas;[1163] Henry lingered in England to receive two
papal legates who were coming to crown John as king of Ireland,[1164]
but the crowning never took place; and at last, on February 17, 1187,
king and legates sailed together for Normandy.[1165]
[1153] R. Diceto as above, p. 41. Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist.
Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 20. Will. Armor., _Gesta Phil.
Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 73. The accounts of the cause of death are
very conflicting. Rigord, Will. Armor. and Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs,
vol. i. 336) say he died of some malady not specified. Gir.
Cambr., _De Instr. Princ._, dist. ii. c. 10 (Angl. Christ.
Soc., p. 34), makes him die “eodem quo et frater antea morbo
acutissimo, sc. febrili calore.” The _Gesta Hen._ as above, and
Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 309, attribute his death to
injuries received in a tournament; but the _Gesta_, as we shall
see, have an alternative version.
[1154] Gir. Cambr., Rigord and Will. Armor. as above.
[1155] Cf. Gir. Cambr. as above (pp. 33, 34), with _Gesta Hen._
as above, and Will. Newb., l. iii. c. 7 (Howlett, vol. i. p.
235).
[1156] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[1157] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 41, says they had two
daughters; but I can find no trace of a second.
[1158] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 353, 354.
[1159] Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, pp. 68, 69.
[1160] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 345.
[1161] R. Diceto as above, pp. 43, 44.
[1162] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
23. Will. Armor., _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), pp. 73, 74;
_Philipp._, l. ii. (_ibid._), p. 118.
[1163] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 354, 355. R. Diceto as above,
p. 44.
[1164] Cardinal Octavian and Hugh of Nonant, bishop-elect of
Chester; _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 3, 4; R. Diceto
(as above), p. 47. They landed at Sandwich on Christmas-eve and
kept the feast at Canterbury. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p.
346.
[1165] The _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 4, and Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 317, say they crossed together; R. Diceto
as above, p. 47, to whom we owe the date of Henry’s crossing,
seems to think the legates had preceded him.
When the two kings met at the Gué-St.-Rémy on April 5,[1166] little
Eleanor was no longer heiress of Britanny. On Easter-day Constance
had become the mother of a son, whom the Bretons, in defiance of his
grandfather’s wish to bestow upon him his own name, insisted upon
calling after the legendary hero of their race, Arthur[1167]--thus at
once claiming him as the representative of their national existence
and rights. The child’s birth made little difference in the political
situation; Philip claimed the wardship of the heir of Britanny just
as he had claimed that of its heiress; the conference broke up, and
both parties prepared for war. Henry distributed his forces in four
divisions; one of these was commanded by his eldest son, Geoffrey the
chancellor, who as bishop-elect of Lincoln had given good proof of
his military capacities in the revolt of 1174;--another was intrusted
to the king’s faithful friend Earl William de Mandeville; the other
two were commanded respectively by Richard and John, and it seems
that both of these were at once sent down into Berry, where Philip
was expected to begin his attack. Soon after Whitsuntide Philip
advanced upon Berry,[1168] took Issoudun and Graçay, and laid siege
to Châteauroux.[1169] Henry now followed his sons; the three together
marched to the relief of Châteauroux, and Richard apparently succeeded
in making his way into the place, where John afterwards rejoined
him.[1170] For nearly a fortnight the two kings remained encamped on
opposite sides of the Indre, drawing up their forces every morning
for battle;[1171] but each day the battle was averted by some means
or other. Now it was the mediation of the French bishops in Philip’s
camp, or of the Roman legates in that of Henry;[1172] now it was a
miraculous judgement upon a sacrilegious Brabantine in the French host,
which scared Philip into dismissing his mercenaries;[1173] now it was
the count of Flanders who, as soon as his peace with France was made,
turned against the peace-maker and sought to stir Richard up to play
over again the part of the young king; now it was Henry himself who
opened negotiations for a truce.[1174] Finally, on Midsummer-eve,[1175]
a truce was made for two years.[1176] According to Bertrand de Born, it
was wrung from Philip by the discovery that the troops of Champagne,
which formed a considerable part of his army, had been bought over
by the English king.[1177] Its actual negotiator was Richard;[1178]
and when Richard, instead of returning to his father, rode away in
the closest companionship with the king of France, Henry naturally
grew suspicious of the terms on which it had been won. His suspicions
were confirmed when Richard, under pretence of obeying his summons to
return, made his way to Chinon and there seized the contents of the
Angevin treasury, which he immediately applied to the fortification of
his own castles in Poitou.[1179] A partizan of Richard tells us that
Philip had communicated to him a letter in which Henry proposed to
make peace by marrying Adela to John and constituting the latter heir
to all his dominions except England and Normandy.[1180] If this scheme
really existed, it was foiled by Philip’s own act; and when Henry and
his elder son met soon afterwards at Angers, their differences were
apparently settled for the moment by Richard’s reinstatement in the
dukedom of Aquitaine; for we are told that he not only returned to his
duty, but publicly renewed his homage to the king.[1181]
[1166] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 5.
[1167] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 48. Will. Newb., l. iii.
c. 7 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 235). _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol.
i. pp. 358, 361. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 315. These
two latter make the year 1186, which is nonsense, as they both
expressly say that the child was posthumous.
[1168] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 6.
[1169] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.),
p. 23; Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 74;
_Philipp._, l. ii. (_ibid._), p. 119.
[1170] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), p. 5. Cf. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 369.
[1171] See Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, p. 71.
[1172] _Ibid._ _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 6, 7.
[1173] Cf. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 369, 370; Rigord
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), pp. 23, 24; Will.
Newb., l. iii. c. 14 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 248); and Gir. Cambr.
_De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 2 (Angl. Christ. Soc., p. 92).
[1174] Gerv. Cant. as above, pp. 371–373.
[1175] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 49.
[1176] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 7; R. Diceto and Gir.
Cambr. as above; Rigord (as above), p. 23. Will. Armor., _Gesta
Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 75, and _Philipp._, l. ii. (_ibid._),
p. 120, turns the truce into an abject submission of Henry and
Richard. Gerald says that one of the conditions of the truce
was that Auvergne, which Philip had conquered, should remain in
his hands during the period. But none of the other authorities
mention Auvergne at all at this time; and Gerald’s statement
seems incompatible with the French accounts of Philip’s attack
upon Auvergne, as if upon a hostile country, in 1188 (Rigord,
as above, p. 27; Will. Armor., _ibid._, pp. 74, 122). Gerald
and Rigord are however almost equally untrustworthy for
details, and especially for chronology.
[1177] See Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, pp. 71, 72.
[1178] Gerv. Cant. as above, p. 373.
[1179] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 9.
[1180] Gir. Cambr. as above (pp. 91, 92).
[1181] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 9.
All these western quarrels again sank into the background before
the tidings which came from Holy Land as the year drew to a close.
Heraclius had gone home from his unsuccessful mission to find Baldwin
IV. delivered out of all his troubles, and his throne occupied by his
infant nephew, the child of his sister Sibyl. The little king soon
followed his uncle to the grave; and Sibyl, on whom the representation
of the royal house thus devolved, at once bestowed her crown upon the
man who had already been for six years the bravest and most successful
defender of the distracted realm--her husband, Guy of Lusignan.[1182]
Guy sprang from a faithless race whom the Angevins had little cause
to love or trust in their western home; but in Palestine he was hated
simply because he had deservedly won the affection and the confidence
of both Baldwin and Sibyl. Thwarted, baffled, deserted, betrayed by
envious rivals, left almost alone to face the Infidel foes whose
advance grew more threatening day by day, Guy fought on till in a great
battle at Tiberias, in July 1187, he was made prisoner by the Turks;
the Christians were totally defeated, and the relic of the Cross, which
they had carried with them to the fight, fell with the king into the
hands of the unbelievers.[1183] The tidings of this disaster, when
they reached Europe in October, gave the death-blow to Pope Urban
III.[1184] His successor, Gregory VIII., opened his pontificate with
an impassioned appeal to all Western Christendom for the rescue of
the Holy Land.[1185] The first response came from the young duke of
Aquitaine; without waiting to consult his father, at the earliest
tidings of the catastrophe Richard took the cross at the hands of the
archbishop of Tours.[1186] Henry himself was so thunderstruck at the
news that for four days he suspended all state business and refused
to see any one.[1187] He was in Normandy, and with him was Archbishop
Baldwin of Canterbury, who had taken the cross two years before with
the archbishop of Rouen, the veteran warrior-bishop Hugh of Durham, the
justiciar Ralf de Glanville, and a crowd of other dignitaries of both
Church and state, none of whom, however, had as yet actually started
on their crusade. It was not King Henry who hindered them; he had
given every facility for the preaching of the crusade throughout his
dominions;[1188] and even in Richard’s case, although reproving the
hastiness of the vow, he made no attempt to thwart its fulfilment, but
on the contrary promised his son every assistance in his power.[1189]
Richard’s project, however, roused up the king of France to insist
once more upon his immediate marriage with Adela, or, failing this,
the restitution of Gisors; and Henry, on his way to England in January
1188, was recalled by tidings that Philip had gathered his host and was
threatening to invade Normandy unless his demands were granted at once.
The kings met at the old trysting-place between Gisors and Trie;[1190]
but their conference had scarcely begun when it was interrupted by
another messenger from Palestine, charged with news of a catastrophe
more awful than even that of Tiberias. Three months after Guy’s
capture, in October 1187, Jerusalem itself had fallen into the hands of
the Infidels;[1191] and the archbishop of Tyre now came to tell with
his own lips the sad and shameful story.
[1182] _Ib._ vol. i. pp. 358, 359.
[1183] According to the pathetic story in _Itin. Reg. Ric._
(Stubbs), p. 15, it was rather the king who fell with the
Cross, in a desperate effort to save it. See also _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 13, 22, 37; R. Coggeshall (Stevenson),
p. 21; _Expugn. Terræ Sanctæ_ (_ibid._), pp. 209–227.
[1184] Cf. Will. Newb., l. iii. c. 21 (Howlett, vol. i. p.
267), and Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.),
p. 24.
[1185] Will. Newb. as above. See also _Gesta Hen._ as above, p.
15, and Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 322.
[1186] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 50. Cf. Will. Newb., l.
iii. c. 23 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 271). Gir. Cambr. _De Instr.
Princ._, dist. iii. c. 5 (Angl. Christ. Soc., p. 98).
[1187] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 389.
[1188] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 302.
[1189] Will. Newb. as above.
[1190] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 29. Rog. Howden as
above, p. 334. R. Diceto as above, p. 51. Gerv. Cant. as above,
p. 406. Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.),
p. 24. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 74. The
date is either S. Hilary’s day, January 13 (Rigord and Will.
Armor.), or that of S. Agnes, January 21 (_Gesta Hen._, Rog.
Howden and R. Diceto). Gerv. Cant. makes it “about S. Vincent’s
day” (January 22).
[1191] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 24. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson),
pp. 22, 23. _Expugn. Terræ Sanctæ_ (_ibid._), pp. 241–248.
_Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 20–22.
In his presence the selfish quarrel of the two kings was shamed into
silence. The king of France took the cross at once, and the king
of England followed his example, this time without waiting for his
people’s consent; the archbishops of Reims and Rouen, the counts of
Flanders, Burgundy, Blois and Champagne, and a crowd of French and
Norman barons did the like.[1192] The two kings set up a wooden cross,
afterwards replaced by a church, to mark the spot, which they called
the “Holy Field”;[1193] then they separated to make their preparations.
Henry at once sent to request a safe-conduct for himself and his
troops through the dominions of the king of Hungary and those of the
Western and Eastern Emperors.[1194] Before the end of the month he
issued from Le Mans an ordinance known as that of the “Saladin tithe,”
requiring every man in his dominions to give towards the expenses of
the crusade a tithe of all his personal property, excepting only the
necessary outfit of a knight or a priest.[1195] This was accompanied
by eight other ordinances also relating to the crusade,[1196] and
was imitated two months later in France by Philip Augustus.[1197] On
January 30 Henry returned to England;[1198] on February 11 he met
the bishops and barons in council at Geddington near Northampton, to
obtain their assent to the Saladin tithe and make arrangements for its
collection.[1199] It was chiefly to superintend this that the king
remained in England, while the archbishop of Canterbury went to preach
the crusade in Wales.[1200]
[1192] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 51. _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 30. Will. Newb., l. iii. c. 23 (Howlett,
vol. i. p. 272). Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 406. Rigord
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 25.
[1193] Rigord, as above.
[1194] R. Diceto as above, pp. 51–54.
[1195] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 31. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol.
ii. pp. 335, 336. Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 160.
[1196] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 31, 32. Rog. Howden as above,
pp. 336, 337. These latter ordinances were issued in all
Christian realms by the Pope’s desire; see Will. Newb. as above
(pp. 273, 274).
[1197] Rigord (as above), pp. 25, 26.
[1198] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 33. Gerv. Cant. as above.
[1199] Gerv. Cant. as above, pp. 409, 410 (we are indebted to
him for place and date). _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[1200] Henry seems to have intended going to Wales himself,
but to have given it up and sent the archbishop instead--an
exchange which Baldwin gladly accepted, as he was at feud with
his chapter, and greatly relieved to get away from it. Gerv.
Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 419–421.
Meanwhile Richard was eager to start without delay; but his father
refused his consent, insisting that their expedition should be made
in common. The impatient “Lion-heart,” however, was not to be thus
restrained, and in his father’s absence he made all his preparations
and wrote to bespeak the aid of his brother-in-law William of Sicily
for the voyage which he was determined to begin as soon as the summer
should arrive.[1201] But his plans were checked by a fresh rising
of the Poitevin barons, headed as usual by the count of Angoulême,
Geoffrey of Rancogne and Geoffrey of Lusignan.[1202] This last was
the worst offender, having treacherously slain a personal friend of
Richard’s.[1203] But, like Richard himself, he had taken the cross; and
it was doubtless owing to this protection that, before the summer was
over, he was suffered to make his escape to the realm of his hapless
brother in Palestine.[1204] The other rebels were scarcely put down
when Raymond of Toulouse seized and cruelly maltreated some Poitevin
merchants who were passing through his territory. Richard at once
avenged this outrage by an armed raid upon the frontier-districts of
Toulouse, and presently managed to catch and imprison the count’s chief
adviser Peter Seilun, who was said to have instigated the seizure of
the merchants. Raymond retaliated by capturing two knights attached
to the household of the English king, Robert Poer and Ralf Fraser, on
their way back from a pilgrimage to Compostella; and neither Richard’s
protest against the sacrilege of keeping pilgrims in prison, nor
even the express command of the king of France for their liberation
out of reverence to S. James, could induce him to give them up on
any condition save the release of Peter Seilun, which Richard firmly
refused.[1205] A heavy ransom offered by the two English captives
themselves shortly afterwards changed Raymond’s determination;[1206]
but this was of course no satisfaction to Richard, and after
Whitsuntide he again invaded Toulouse with fire and sword; castle after
castle fell into his hands, till at last he began to threaten the
capital itself.[1207]
[1201] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 7 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., pp. 102, 103).
[1202] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 34.
[1203] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 54.
[1204] _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 26.
[1205] _Gesta Hen._ (as above), pp. 34, 35. Cf. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 339, 340. The date of this expedition
of Richard’s against Toulouse seems to have been about April;
see Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 74.
[1206] Rog. Howden. (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 340.
[1207] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 36. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 55. This last writer says that Richard
took seventeen castles, but he must be counting in those
which had been taken in the spring. The date of this second
expedition comes from Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 27, who places it between Pentecost
and midsummer. The new editors of Vic and Vaissète, _Hist.
du Languedoc_, vol. vii. p. 22, charge Rigord with false
chronology here, and insist upon following (as they suppose)
that of Will. Armor., who tells us that Richard began his
campaign against Toulouse “modico elapso tempore” after the
Mid-Lenten council at Paris (_Gesta Phil. Aug._, Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. p. 74). If, however, they had
read the English authorities more carefully, they would have
seen that there were really two campaigns, and that while Will.
Armor. speaks of the first, Rigord is speaking of the second.
In Aquitaine even more than elsewhere, the beginning of strife was like
the letting-out of water. This time the strife of Richard and Raymond
led to the outbursting of a flood which ended by overspreading the
whole Angevin dominions and sweeping away Henry Fitz-Empress himself.
If Richard’s story was true, neither he nor Raymond was the real
originator of the mischief; it was Philip of France who had secretly
urged him to the attack;[1208] while another rumour, which Richard
was only too ready to believe, accused Henry himself of stirring up
the count of Toulouse and the Aquitanian rebels against his son, in
order to prevent him from starting on the Crusade.[1209] Little as we
can credit such a tale, it is easy to imagine how dexterously Philip
would use it to sow dissensions between father and son and entangle the
impetuous Richard in a coil such as only the sword could cut. Openly,
meanwhile, Philip was taking the part of Toulouse, and peremptorily
insisting that Henry should put a stop to his son’s aggressions in
that quarter.[1210] Without waiting for Henry’s reply, he marched upon
Berry and laid siege to Châteauroux, which surrendered to him on
June 16.[1211] It was now Henry’s turn to remonstrate against this
breach of truce, all the more flagrant because committed against a
brother-crusader. He knew however that nothing but his own presence
could make his remonstrances of any avail; sending John over before
him, on the night of July 10 he hurried across the sea to Barfleur,
and thence went to muster his forces at Alençon.[1212] They consisted
of the feudal levies of England and Normandy, and a multitude of Welsh
under the command of Ralf de Glanville,[1213] together with some
Bretons and Flemish mercenaries,[1214] and apparently some Angevins
and Cenomannians.[1215] Henry was however very unwilling to resort to
force; his old scruple about making war upon his overlord seems not to
have been yet quite extinguished, and moreover he shrank alike from
the bloodshed and the expense of war. During some weeks his forces
were still kept idle, save for an occasional plundering-raid across
the French border.[1216] Philip meanwhile was carrying all before him
in Berry, and having conquered nearly the whole district, made a dash
upon Auvergne.[1217] Richard seized the opportunity for an attempt to
regain Châteauroux, in which however he failed, and was only saved
from capture or death by the help of a friendly butcher.[1218] His
advance however had been enough to make Philip retire into his own
domains.[1219] Soon afterwards the approach of the vintage-season
compelled the French king to disband a part of his forces; the
remainder, under command of the bishop of Beauvais, went to ravage
the Norman frontier-lands. Henry demanded reparation, and threatened
to cast off his allegiance in default of it; Philip retorted that he
would not cease from the warfare which he had begun till all Berry and
the Vexin were in his hands.[1220] At last, in the middle of August,
the two kings met in person once more between Gisors and Trie; but the
meeting broke up in anger; and when they parted, Philip in his rage cut
down the great elm tree under which the conferences between the rulers
of France and Normandy had so long been held, vowing that no conference
should ever be held there again.[1221]
[1208] Rog. Howden as above. Cf. _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 39.
[1209] R. Diceto as above. Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._,
dist. iii. c. 7 (Angl. Christ. Soc., p. 103).
[1210] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 36.
[1211] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 55. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 432, seems to have confused this siege of
Châteauroux with an earlier one. Cf. Will. Newb., l. iii. c.
25 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 276), Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 27, and Will. Armor., _Gesta Phil.
Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 74.
[1212] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 40. Cf. Gerv. Cant.
as above, p. 433. R. Diceto (as above) dates the king’s
crossing “circa festum S. Jacobi,” but this is clearly wrong.
[1213] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[1214] R. Diceto as above.
[1215] Rog. Howden (Stubbs, vol. ii. p. 343) adds some troops
“from his other lands.”
[1216] Gerv. Cant. as above, pp. 433, 434.
[1217] Rigord as above. Will. Armor. as above; _Philipp._, l.
iii. (_ibid._), p. 122. Both these writers however throw some
suspicion upon their account of Philip’s successes by saying
that Henry was flying before him all the while, and was finally
chased back by him into Normandy--which in reality it seems
plain that he had never quitted.
[1218] Gerv. Cant. as above, p. 434.
[1219] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 45.
[1220] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 45, 46.
[1221] According to R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 55, the
conference began on August 16 and lasted three days. The _Gesta
Hen._ as above, p. 47, place it after September 1, but this is
impossible. Will. Armor., _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist.
Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 74, and _Philipp._, l. iii.
(_ibid._) pp. 123, 124, tells the story of the tree in a very
odd shape. He says the English were sitting comfortably under
its shade, while the French were broiling in the sun, and the
French grew so envious of the more agreeable situation of their
foes that they made a dash at them, put them to flight, and
then cut down the tree, which Henry had caused to be carefully
enclosed, as a sort of symbol of his ownership in the soil. R.
Diceto, however, says that the ground on which the tree stood
was French.
Richard had now rejoined his father,[1222] and at his instigation
an attack was made by their united forces upon Mantes, which was
occupied by a small French force under William des Barres, lately the
commandant of Châteauroux. Richard succeeded in avenging his recent
mishap at Châteauroux by taking William prisoner, but he made his
escape immediately, and nothing was gained by the expedition.[1223]
Richard again went into Berry; Henry lingered on the Norman border,
where soon afterwards he received from Philip a demand for another
conference. It took place at Châtillon on October 7, but again without
result. Philip now followed Richard, who thereupon opened negotiations
on his own account, offering to submit his quarrel with Toulouse to
the judgement of the French king’s court;[1224] but this also came
to nothing. Still the negotiations went on, and Henry’s difficulties
were increasing. Chief among them was the want of money to pay his
soldiers. His realms had been almost drained for the Saladin tithe; his
own treasury was exhausted; his troops, seeing no prospect of either
wages or plunder, began to slip away; and at last he was obliged to
disband his mercenaries and send his Welsh auxiliaries back to their
own country.[1225] Philip meanwhile was secretly in communication with
Richard;[1226] and Richard was growing eager to bring matters to a
crisis. The insidious whispers of France and Flanders had done their
work in his too credulous mind. To the end of his life Richard was but
little of a statesman and less of a diplomatist; it is therefore no
wonder that he failed on the one hand to fathom the subtle policy of
his father, and on the other to see through the wiles of Philip. His
fault lay in this--that while Henry’s servants were content to trust
him where they could not understand him, his own son was ready to find
a ground of suspicion in every word and action of his father’s for
which his own intelligence was incapable of accounting, and to credit
every calumny reported to him by his father’s enemies. More than a year
ago they had contrived, as has been seen, to awaken in his mind an idea
that he was in danger of being disinherited in favour of his youngest
brother; and it was with a determination to ascertain once for all the
extent of this danger that he brought the two kings to a meeting with
each other and with himself near Bonmoulins on November 18.[1227]
[1222] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 10 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 111), makes them meet before Châteauroux. He
has confused this campaign with that of the previous year.
[1223] Cf. _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 46, with Will. Armor.
_Philipp._, l. iii. (as above), pp. 124–132.
[1224] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 46, 48, 49.
[1225] _Ib._ p. 50. Cf. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 434,
435.
[1226] Gerv. Cant. (as above), p. 435.
[1227] _Ibid._ R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 57. _Gesta
Hen._ as above.
The conference lasted three days; and each day the prospect of peace
grew fainter.[1228] Philip proposed that all parties should return to
the position which they had occupied before taking the cross; Henry was
ready to close with this proposition, but Richard rejected it, as it
would have compelled him to give up his conquests won from Toulouse
and worth a thousand marks or more as demesne lands, in exchange for
Châteauroux and a few other castles over which he would have had only a
precarious overlordship.[1229] As far as the two kings were concerned,
the meeting ended in a simple truce between them, to last till S.
Hilary’s day. No sooner however was this settled than Philip offered
to restore all his conquests on condition that Henry should cause his
subjects to do homage to Richard as his heir, and should allow his
marriage with Adela to take place immediately. Henry refused.[1230] The
two kings were standing, with Richard and the archbishop of Reims, in
the midst of a crowded ring of spectators. Richard himself now suddenly
turned to his father, and demanded to be distinctly acknowledged as
heir to all his dominions. Henry tried to put him off; he repeated
his demand with the same result. “Now,” he exclaimed, “I believe what
hitherto seemed to me incredible.” Ungirding his sword, he stretched
out his hands to the king of France and offered him his homage and
fealty for the whole continental heritage of the Angevin house; an
offer which Philip readily accepted, promising in return to give back
to Richard his recent conquests in Berry.[1231] Henry drew back,
speechless with amazement and consternation; the crowd, seeing the two
kings thus separated, rushed in between them, and the duke of Aquitaine
rode away in company with the French king, leaving Henry alone with
his recollections of all the evils which had come of his eldest son’s
alliance with Louis VII., and his forebodings of worse mischief to come
from this new alliance with Philip, who, as he well knew, was far more
dangerous than Louis had ever been; for he had more brains and even
fewer scruples.[1232]
[1228] Gerv. Cant. as above.
[1229] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 58.
[1230] _Ibid._ Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 435. _Gesta
Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 50.
[1231] Gerv. Cant. as above, pp. 435, 436. R. Diceto and _Gesta
Hen._ as above. Cf. Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._,
vol. v.), p. 27, and Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii.
c. 10 (Angl. Christ. Soc., p. 111).
[1232] Gerv. Cant. as above, p. 436.
What little could be done to ward off the impending danger Henry did
without delay. He sent the only one of his sons on whom he could
really depend, Geoffrey the chancellor, to secure the fortresses of
Anjou; he himself went to do the like in Aquitaine,[1233] whence he
returned to keep Christmas at Saumur. The feast must have been a dreary
one, even if both Geoffrey and John were with him; yet, deserted as he
was, he managed to collect, for the last time, some semblance of the
old regal state.[1234] When the truce expired, however, he postponed
his intended meeting with Philip, on the plea of illness, first to
Candlemas-day, and then till after Easter. He hoped to make use of
the delay for winning Richard back; but Richard turned a deaf ear to
every message of conciliation.[1235] He had in fact joined Philip in
an attack upon Henry’s territories as soon as the truce was expired;
and the ever-discontented Bretons had been induced to lend their
aid.[1236] After Easter Richard was at length brought to a meeting with
his father, on the borders of Anjou and Maine; but nothing came of the
interview.[1237] In vain did the Pope, fearing that these quarrels in
Gaul would put a stop to the crusade, send two legates in succession to
make peace. The first, Henry of Albano, who was sent early in 1188 to
mediate between Henry and Louis, unintentionally became the indirect
cause of a further addition to Henry’s troubles. Thinking it safer to
postpone his mediation till the meeting of the two kings should take
place, he in the meantime went to preach the crusade in Germany and
there persuaded the Emperor himself to take the cross.[1238] By May
1189 Frederic was ready to start;[1239] but before doing so he took
a stern and summary measure to secure the peace of the Empire during
his absence. He ordered all those princes and nobles whose loyalty he
suspected either to accompany him or to quit the country and take an
oath not to set foot in it again till his return. Among those who
thus incurred banishment was Henry the Lion. For the second time he
and his wife sought shelter in England; not finding the king there,
they crossed over to Normandy in search of him,[1240] but it does
not appear that they ever reached him where he lay, sick and weary,
at Le Mans.[1241] Meanwhile Henry of Albano, after anathematizing
Richard for his disturbance of the peace, had withdrawn to Flanders
and there died.[1242] His mission was taken up with a somewhat
firmer hand by another legate, John of Anagni. Reaching Le Mans at
Ascension-tide 1189,[1243] John at once excommunicated all troublers
of the peace except the two kings themselves, who were made to promise
that they would submit their quarrels to his arbitration and that of
the archbishops of Reims, Bourges, Canterbury and Rouen, and were
threatened with excommunication if they should fail to redeem their
promise.[1244]
[1233] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 436.
[1234] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 60, 61.
[1235] Gerv. Cant. as above, pp. 438, 439.
[1236] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 61.
[1237] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 13 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., pp. 116, 117).
[1238] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 355, 356.
[1239] He took the cross at Mainz on March 27, 1188, and
started on May 10, 1189. Ansbert (Dobrowsky), pp. 18, 21.
[1240] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 62.
[1241] The duchess died in that very summer, seven days after
her father according to R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 65,
or nine days before him according to the Chron. Stederburg
(Leibnitz, _Scriptt. Rer. Brunswic._, vol. i. p. 861).
[1242] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 51, 55, 56. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 355.
[1243] _Epp. Cant._ cccvii. (Stubbs), p. 290.
[1244] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 61.
On the basis of this agreement a conference was held on Trinity Sunday,
June 4, at La Ferté-Bernard. There were present, besides the two kings,
Richard, and the legate, the four archbishops who were to assist him
as arbitrators, most of the Norman bishops, those of Angers and Le
Mans, four English and several French prelates, and a crowd of French,
English and Norman barons.[1245] Philip began by again demanding that
Adela and Richard should be married at once; that Richard should have
security given him for his succession to his father’s dominions; and
that John should be made to take the cross and accompany his brother
to Palestine.[1246] Richard repeated these demands for himself.[1247]
Henry refused, and made a counter-proposition to Philip--the same which
he was said to have made at Châteauroux two years ago, for Adela’s
marriage with John; but this Philip rejected in his turn.[1248] The
legate now interposed with a threat to Philip that unless he would come
to terms, his domains should be laid under interdict; Philip defied
the threat, and charged the legate with having been bribed by English
gold.[1249] This explosion of course broke up the meeting.[1250]
Henry went back to Le Mans, whence neither bishop nor archbishop,
servant nor friend, could persuade him to move,[1251] although Philip
and Richard with their united forces were overrunning Maine at their
will. In five days the principal castles of its eastern portion were
in their hands; one of the most important, Ballon, only fifteen miles
from Le Mans, fell on June 9. There the conquerors paused for three
days;[1252] and there, probably, they received the submission of the
chief nobles of the western border--Geoffrey of Mayenne, Guy of Laval,
Ralf of Fougères.[1253] But while the barons were false, the citizens
were true. Le Mans still clung with unswerving loyalty to the count
whom she looked upon as her own child; and Henry clung with equal
attachment to the city which held his father’s grave and had held his
own cradle.[1254] He had little else to cling to now. Where John was it
is impossible to say; he was clearly not at Le Mans; and it is certain
that, wherever he may have been, his proceedings were wholly unknown to
Henry.[1255] Geoffrey the chancellor was still at his father’s side,
and so were some half-dozen faithful barons, as well as Archbishop
Bartholomew of Tours.[1256] Beyond these the king had nothing but a
small force of mercenaries wherewith to defend either himself or Le
Mans. The citizens were however willing to stand a siege for his sake,
and he in return had promised never to desert them.[1257]
[1245] _Ib._ p. 66. The English bishops were Lincoln, Ely,
Rochester and Chester.
[1246] _Ibid._ Rog. Howden as above, p. 362.
[1247] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 447.
[1248] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 363.
[1249] _Ibid._ _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 66.
[1250] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 62, says there were
_two_ meetings at La Ferté “after Easter.” There seems to be no
other notice of the second; but Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i.
pp. 446, 447, has an account of a conference at Le Mans on June
9, which agrees almost to the letter with the report given in
the _Gesta Hen._ and Rog. Howden of the proceedings at La Ferté
on June 4. It seems most unlikely that either Philip or Richard
would go to a conference at Le Mans itself; and June 9 is an
impossible date, for by that time, as we shall see, the war was
in full career, and Philip and Richard were actually besieging
Ballon. Gervase has probably mistaken both place and date.
[1251] R. Diceto as above, p. 63.
[1252] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 67.
[1253] R. Diceto as above.
[1254] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[1255] Will. Newb., l. iii. c. 25 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 277),
says, after the king’s retreat from Le Mans, “Tunc Johannes
filius ejus minimus, quem tenerrime diligebat, recessit ab
eo.” But it is almost impossible that all the contemporary
historians should have failed to mention John’s presence with
his father if he had really been there; and Henry’s horrified
surprise at the final discovery of John’s treachery shews that
there had been no open desertion such as William seems to imply.
[1256] Besides Bartholomew (whom most of the English writers of
the time call William) there had been with him throughout the
spring the archbishops of Canterbury and Rouen; Gir. Cambr. _De
Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 13 (Angl. Christ. Soc., pp. 115,
116). It is clear that Bartholomew stayed with him to the end,
for he buried him. But we hear nothing more of either Baldwin
of Canterbury or Walter of Rouen, except that Baldwin was at
Rouen two or three days before Henry’s death; _Epp. Cant._
cccxi. (Stubbs), p. 296. See Bishop Stubbs’s preface to Rog.
Howden, vol. ii. p. lxi, note 1. Of the laymen more later.
[1257] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 67.
On S. Barnabas’s day--Sunday, June 11--Philip and Richard appeared
with their host before Le Mans. They made a feint of passing on in
the direction of Tours; but next morning Philip suddenly drew up his
forces under the walls and prepared for an assault. The defenders,
conscious of the overwhelming odds against them, adopted the desperate
remedy of setting fire to the suburbs. Unhappily, the wind carried
the flames not into the enemy’s lines but into the city itself.[1258]
The French saw their opportunity and rushed at the bridge; a gallant,
though unsuccessful, attempt to break it down was made by some of
Henry’s troops, headed by a Cenomannian knight, Geoffrey of Brulon, who
thus honourably wiped out the memory of his rebellion of sixteen years
before; after a desperate fight, Geoffrey was wounded and made prisoner
with a number of his comrades, and the rest were driven back into the
city, the French rushing in after them.[1259] Then at last Henry felt
that he could not keep his promise to the citizens of Le Mans, and with
some seven hundred knights he took to flight.[1260] The French hurried
in pursuit, but they did not carry it far. It may be that Geoffrey of
Brulon’s effort to break down the bridge saved the king although it
could not save the city; for the French are said to have been checked
in their pursuit by the impossibility of fording the river,[1261] and
one can scarcely help conjecturing that the fugitives had crossed by
the half-undermined bridge, and that it fell as soon as they had passed
over it.[1262]
[1258] _Ibid._ R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 63. Gir. Cambr.
as above, c. 24 (p. 137). Cf. Will. Newb., l. iii. c. 25
(Howlett, vol. i. p. 277).
[1259] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[1260] _Ibid._ Cf. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 447; R.
Diceto and Will. Newb. as above; Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 138);
Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 28; and
Will. Armor., _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 75.
[1261] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 68.
[1262] This is suggested by Bishop Stubbs’s remark about “the
breaking down of the bridge.” _Rog. Howden_, vol. ii. pref. p.
lxii.
Geoffrey however was not the only baron who after siding with
Henry’s enemies in his prosperous days had learned to stand by him
in his last hour of need. Besides his one faithful son, Geoffrey the
chancellor, his old friend Earl William de Mandeville, and William
Fitz-Ralf the seneschal of Normandy, Henry was accompanied in his
flight by an English baron, William the Marshal. William’s father,
John, who seems to have been marshal successively to Henry I. and
to Stephen, had married a sister of Patrick of Salisbury and, like
his brother-in-law, espoused the cause of the Empress in the civil
war.[1263] William himself first appears in history at the age of about
six years, in 1152, when he was placed as a hostage in the hands of
Stephen. Twice his life was forfeited by his father’s defiance of the
king, and twice it was saved by the unconscious fearlessness of the
child, which so won Stephen’s heart that he ended by making himself
the little fellow’s playmate instead of his slayer.[1264] John’s
services to the Empress were rewarded on Henry’s accession by his
reinstatement in the office of marshal; he afterwards became notorious
through his quarrel with Thomas of Canterbury, which formed one of
the pretexts for the archbishop’s condemnation at Northampton.[1265]
After John’s death his title and office seem to have been shared by
his two sons.[1266] The second, William, we find in 1173 among the
partizans of the young king’s rebellion; ten years later he appears
as the young king’s best-beloved knight, and as charged by him with
the last office of friendship, the accomplishment in his stead of
the crusading vow which he had not lived to fulfil.[1267] Six years
afterwards, however, William was still in Europe, ready to stand to
the last by another perishing king, and to take the post of honour
as well as of danger among the little band of faithful servants who
watched over the last days of Henry Fitz-Empress. It was William
who brought up the rear of the little force which covered Henry’s
retreat from Le Mans. Turning round as he heard the pursuers close
behind him, he suddenly found himself face to face with Richard, and
levelled his spear at him without hesitation. “God’s feet, marshal!”
cried Richard with his wonted oath, “slay me not! I have no hauberk.”
“Slay you! no; I leave that to the devil,” retorted William, plunging
his spear into the horse’s body instead of the rider’s.[1268] Richard
was of course compelled to abandon the chase, and at a distance of
some two miles from Le Mans the king felt himself sufficiently out
of danger to pause on the brow of a hill whence he could look back
for the last time upon his native city. As he saw its blazing ruins
words of madness burst from his lips: “O God, Thou hast shamefully
taken from me this day the city which I loved most on earth, in which
I was born and bred, where lies the body of my father and that of
his patron saint--I will requite Thee as I can; I will withdraw from
Thee that thing in me for which Thou carest the most.”[1269] Another
eighteen miles’[1270] ride brought the fugitives at nightfall to La
Frênaye,[1271] whose lord, the viscount of Beaumont, was a kinsman of
Henry, and the father of Hermengard whose marriage with the king of
Scots had been arranged three years ago by Henry’s influence. The king
found shelter in the castle; his followers, already sadly diminished in
number in consequence of the overpowering heat and fatigue of the day’s
ride, quartered themselves in the little town as best they could; the
chancellor would have remained with them to keep guard himself, but his
father would not be parted from him, and made him come in to sup and
spend the night. Geoffrey, whose baggage had been all left in Le Mans,
was glad to exchange his travel-stained clothes for some which his
father was able to lend him; Henry, with characteristic disregard of
such details, persisted in lying down to rest just as he was, with his
son’s cloak thrown over him for a coverlet.[1272]
[1263] See extracts from _Hist. de Guillaume le Maréchal_, vv.
23–398, in _Romania_, vol. xi. (1882), pp. 47–52.
[1264] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 399–654 (as above, pp.
52–55).
[1265] See above, pp. 32, 33.
[1266] They seem to have both officiated at the crowning of
Richard. _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs, “Benedict of Peterborough,” vol.
ii.), p. 81.
[1267] See above, pp. 139 and 228.
[1268] P. Meyer, in _Romania_, vol. xi. pp. 62, 63, from _Hist.
de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 8833–8836. This is clearly the incident
recorded briefly and without a name by Gir. Cambr. _De Instr.
Princ._, dist. iii. c. 25 (Angl. Christ. Soc., p. 140).
[1269] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 24 (p. 138). He makes the
distance two miles from Le Mans; in the _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 67, the pursuit is said to have extended to three
miles.
[1270] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. iii. (Duchesne, _Hist.
Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 132, makes the day’s ride twenty
miles altogether; but he carries it as far as Alençon. See,
however, Bishop Stubbs’s pref. to Rog. Howden, vol. ii. pp.
lxii, lxiii and notes.
[1271] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 25 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 140); _Vita Galfr._, l. i. c. 4 (Brewer, vol.
iv. p. 369). See Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. ii. pref. p.
lxiii, note 5.
[1272] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._ as above.
From La Frênaye another day’s ride would have brought the king to the
Norman border. His first intention on leaving Le Mans had evidently
been to fall back upon Normandy and there rally his forces--doubtless
also to summon help from England--to renew the struggle with Philip;
and this was the course to which his followers still urged him on the
Tuesday morning. He, however, had changed his plans in the night.
He seems to have made up his mind that his end was near; and in
consequence, he had also made up his mind to go back to the Angevin
lands. Since he had been compelled to leave his own birthplace in
the enemy’s power, he would at any rate stand to the last by the old
home of his father’s house, and die at his hereditary post as count
of Anjou. He made William Fitz-Ralf and William de Mandeville swear
that they would surrender the castles of Normandy to no one save
John; he bade Geoffrey take the command of the troops, escort the
barons with them as far as Alençon, and then come back to rejoin him
in Anjou. Geoffrey, whose dominant feeling clearly was anxiety for
his father’s personal safety, only stayed in Alençon long enough to
secure the place and collect a fresh force of a hundred picked knights,
and with these set off southward again to overtake his father. Henry
meanwhile had started for Anjou almost alone. His son rejoined him at
Savigny[1273]--whether it was the village of that name near Chinon, or
one of several others further north, there is no means of deciding;
but it is certain that by the end of the month Henry and his son were
both safe at Chinon.[1274] Whether the king had made his way alone,
or whether he had been at once the leader and the guide of the little
Norman force, through the Angevin woodlands which as a hunter he had
learned to know so well, and where he was now in danger of being hunted
down in his turn--in either case this sick and weary man had achieved
an adventure equal in skill and daring to those of Fulk Nerra’s most
romantic days, or of his own youth. Once safe out of the enemy’s reach,
he made no further movement until Philip, having possessed himself
of the citadel of Le Mans[1275] and the remnant of the Cenomannian
strongholds, and made his way southward by Chaumont and Amboise as
far as Roche-Corbon,[1276] sent him a proposal for a meeting to be
held at Azay on the last day of June.[1277] Henry apparently advanced
from Chinon to Azay; but on that very day an attack of fever was
added to the malady from which he was already suffering, and he was
unable to attend the conference.[1278] It seems probable that he sent
representatives to whom Philip and Richard made their propositions,
and who may possibly have accepted them in his name.[1279] Certainly,
however, no truce was made; for that same day Philip marched up to the
southern bank of the Loire and drew up his host opposite the gates of
Tours.[1280] Next day he forded the river--an easy exploit when it was
half dried up by the summer’s heat[1281]--established his headquarters
in the “borough of S. Martin” or Châteauneuf,[1282] and began to invest
the city.[1283] Henry, it seems, had now gone to Saumur;[1284] there on
the Sunday--July 2--he was visited, according to one account at his own
request, by the archbishop of Reims, the count of Flanders and the duke
of Burgundy, endeavouring to arrange terms of peace.[1285] The visit
was a failure; it could not be otherwise, for the peacemakers were
acting without Philip’s sanction, and in spite of a distinct warning
from him that, whatever tidings they might bring back, he would assault
Tours next morning.[1286] The morning came; the assault was made; the
walls which had kept out Fulk Nerra and Geoffrey Martel could not
avail to keep out Philip Augustus, enabled as he was by his possession
of Châteauneuf and by the lack of water in the Loire to bring up his
machines against their weakest side; and in a few hours he was master
of Tours.[1287]
[1273] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. i. c. 4 (Brewer, vol. iv.
p. 369). See Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. ii. pref. pp. lxiv,
lxv and notes.
[1274] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 68.
[1275] Some of Henry’s troops had thrown themselves into the
citadel, and held out there for three days after his flight.
_Gesta Hen._ as above. Another body of troops in a tower by
the north gate (this must be the Conqueror’s Mont-Barbet--the
“citadel” being the old palace or castle of the counts, near
the cathedral) held out for a week longer still. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 63.
[1276] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 69.
[1277] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 25 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 140). R. Diceto, as above, p. 64, makes the
day June 28; Bishop Stubbs (_Rog. Howden_, vol. ii. pref. p.
lxv) follows Gerald.
[1278] Gir. Cambr. as above.
[1279] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 365, 366, gives,
with the date “circa festum apostolorum Petri et Pauli, ad
colloquium inter Turonim et Azai,” a treaty identical with that
which the _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 69, 70, give without any
date at all, but after Philip’s capture of Tours, and which
we know to have been finally made at Colombières on July 4
(see below, p. 265). R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 63, also
gives the substance of the treaty, adding (p. 64): “Facta sunt
autem hæc in vigiliâ Apostolorum Petri et Pauli, scilicet
inter Turonim et Azai.” It seems possible that the terms were
arranged at Azay between Philip and Henry’s representatives,
subject to ratification by Henry himself. See Stubbs, _Rog.
Howden_, vol. ii. pref. p. lxv.
[1280] On the date see Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. ii. pref. p.
lxvi and note.
[1281] This is the English account; _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol.
ii. p. 69, copied by Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 364. But
the French writers turn it into something very like a miracle.
See Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
28; Will. Armor., _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 75, and
_Philipp._, l. iii. (_ibid._), p. 133.
[1282] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[1283] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, l. iii. c. 25 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 140) says the investment began on the morrow
of the Azay conference.
[1284] _Gesta Hen._ as above. See Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol.
ii. pref. p. lxvi and note.
[1285] _Gesta Hen._ as above. Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 141).
For the duke of Burgundy Gerald substitutes the count of Blois.
Bishop Stubbs (_Rog. Howden_, as above) adopts the former
version.
[1286] _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[1287] _Ibid._ Cf. Rigord and Will. Armor. as above, and
_Philipp._ l. iii. (_ibid._), pp. 133, 134.
The tidings were carried at once to Henry, with a final summons
to meet the conqueror at Colombières, half-way between Tours and
Azay.[1288] Henry, at his wits’ end, consulted William the Marshal
as to whether or not he should respond to the summons; William
recommended him to follow the counsel of his barons; they advised
that he should go, and he went. Most of his followers went with
him; Geoffrey, however, feeling that he could not endure to see his
father’s humiliation, besought and obtained permission to remain where
he was.[1289] Henry found a lodging in a small commandery of Knights
Templars at Ballan,[1290] close to Colombières; but he had no sooner
reached it than he was seized with racking pains in every limb and
every nerve. He again called for William the Marshal, who did his best
to soothe him, and persuaded him to go to bed. Philip and Richard had
always refused to believe that his sickness was anything but a feint,
and despite the pleadings of his friends they still insisted that the
conference should take place[1291] on the following day.[1292] When
they saw him, however, they were compelled to admit the truth of his
excuse; his sternly-set and colourless face shewed but too plainly
how acutely he was suffering. So evident was his weakness that they
offered him a seat--on a cloak spread upon the ground--but he refused
it; he had not come there, he said, to sit down with them; he had
come simply to hear and see what the French king demanded of him, and
why he had taken away his lands.[1293] Philip formulated his demands
with brutal bluntness; he required that Henry should put himself, as
a conquered enemy, entirely at his mercy before he would discuss any
terms at all.[1294] Henry could not at once bring himself to submit.
Suddenly, amid the breathless stillness of the sultry July morning, a
clap of thunder was heard, and the excited bystanders thought they
actually saw a stroke of lightning fall out of the cloudless blue
sky, directly between the two kings. Both started back in terror;
after a while they rode forward again, and immediately there was a
second peal of thunder. Henry’s shattered nerves gave way completely;
he nearly fell from his horse, and at once placed himself wholly at
Philip’s mercy.[1295] Then the terms were dictated to him. He was made
to do homage to Philip, and to promise that Adela should be placed
under guardians chosen by Richard, who was to marry her on his return
from Palestine;--that Richard should receive the fealty of all the
barons of the Angevin dominions, on both sides of the sea, and that
all who had attached themselves to Richard’s party in the late war
should be suffered to remain in his service and released from their
obligations to his father, at any rate until the latter should be
ready to set forth on the crusade;--that he would be thus ready, and
would meet Philip and Richard at Vézelay, thence to start with them at
Mid-Lent;[1296]--that he would renounce all claims upon Auvergne,[1297]
and pay Philip an indemnity of twenty thousand marks.[1298] As security
for the fulfilment of the treaty, Philip and Richard were to hold in
pledge either three castles on the Norman border or two in Anjou, with
the cities of Tours and Le Mans; and all Henry’s barons were to swear
that they would hold their allegiance to him contingent only upon
his fulfilment of these conditions.[1299] Finally, he was compelled
to acknowledge himself reconciled with Richard, and to give him the
kiss of peace. The kiss was indeed given; but it was accompanied by
a whisper which Richard did not scruple to repeat for the amusement
of the French court when the conference was over--“May I only be
suffered to live long enough to take vengeance upon thee as thou
deservest!”[1300]
[1288] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 8935–8944 (_Romania_,
vol. xi. p. 64). The name of Colombières is given only by Will.
Armor., _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._,
vol. v.), p. 75, and _Philipp._, l. iii. (_ibid._), p. 134.
[1289] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. i. c. 5 (Brewer, vol. iv.
p. 370).
[1290] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 8947–8958 (as above). M.
Meyer (_ib._ p. 69) supplies the name of the commandery.
[1291] _Ib._ vv. 8960–8997 (as above, p. 64).
[1292] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. iii. (as above), gives the
date by saying Henry died “post triduum.”
[1293] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9013–9028 (as above, p.
65).
[1294] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 25 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 141).
[1295] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 366.
[1296] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 70.
[1297] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 64.
[1298] _Ib._ p. 63. _Gesta Hen._ as above.
[1299] _Gesta Hen._ as above, pp. 70, 71.
[1300] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 26 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., pp. 149, 150).
One thing alone Henry asked and obtained in return for all this
humiliation; a written list of those among his subjects whose services
were transferred to Richard.[1301] The list was promised,[1302] and
Henry was carried back, worn out with fatigue, suffering and shame,
to the favourite home of his brighter days at Chinon.[1303] By the
time he reached it he was too ill to do anything but lie down never
to rise again. He sent back his vice-chancellor, Roger Malchat,[1304]
to fetch the promised list of traitors; and on Roger’s return he
bade him sit down beside his bed and read him out the names. With a
sigh Roger answered: “Our Lord Jesus Christ help me, sire! the first
written down here is Count John, your son.”[1305] The words gave Henry
his death-blow. “Say no more,”[1306] he faltered, turning away his
face.[1307] Yet the tale seemed too horrible to be true, and he started
up again: “Can it be? John, my darling child, my very heart, for love
of whom I have incurred all this misery--has he indeed forsaken me?”
It could not be denied; he sank back again and turned his face to the
wall, moaning: “Let things go now as they will; I care no more for
myself or for the world.”[1308]
[1301] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 366. _Hist. de Guill.
le Mar._, v. 9035 (_Romania_, vol. xi. p. 65).
[1302] Rog. Howden says that it was given, and implies that it
was read, then and there, but we shall see that he is wrong.
[1303] Rog. Howden as above. _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, v. 3639
(as above). Bishop Stubbs (_Rog. Howden_, vol. ii. pref. p.
lxviii) says “he returned to Azai,” and makes the reading of
the fatal list take place there, before Henry went on to Chinon
(_ib._ p. lxx). This seems to be the meaning of Gir. Cambr. _De
Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 25 (Angl. Christ. Soc., p. 148).
But Gerald evidently thought Henry had been at Azay ever since
the Friday, just as William of Armorica (_Philipp._, l. iii.,
Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. p. 134) thought he
had been all the while at Chinon; whereas the _Gesta_ and Roger
shew that both are wrong in this. On the other hand, the _Life
of William the Marshal_ seems distinctly to shew that the place
where Henry went to lodge before the meeting at Colombières
was not Azay, but Ballan; and it also tells us that he went
straight back from Colombières to Chinon, and _there_ read the
list. In the absence of further elucidations, I venture to
follow this version.
[1304] “... Mestre Roger Malchael,
Qui lores portout son seel.”
_Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9051–9052 (as above, p. 65). See
M. Meyer’s note, _ib._ p. 69.
[1305] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9040–9076 (as above, p.
65).
[1306] “Asez en avez dit.” _Ib._ v. 9083 (as above).
[1307] _Ib._ v. 9084 (p. 66).
[1308] Gir. Cambr. as above.
All through that day and the next he lay there, trembling from head to
foot, sometimes appearing to see and hear nothing, and to be conscious
of nothing but pain, murmuring broken words which no one could
understand.[1309] At other times his delirium shewed itself in frenzied
curses upon himself and his sons, which the attendant bishops vainly
besought him to revoke.[1310] It was Geoffrey who at length managed to
bring him to a somewhat calmer frame both of body and of mind. With
his head on his son’s shoulder and his feet on the knees of a faithful
knight, Henry at last seemed to have fallen asleep. When he opened his
eyes again and saw Geoffrey patiently watching over him and fanning
away the flies which buzzed around his head, he spoke in accents very
different from any that he had used for some days past. “My dearest
son! thou, indeed, hast always been a true son to me. So help me God,
if I recover of this sickness, I will be to thee the best of fathers,
and will set thee among the chiefest men of my realm. But if I may not
live to reward thee, may God give thee thy reward for thy unchanging
dutifulness to me!” “O father, I desire no reward but thy restoration
to health and prosperity” was all that Geoffrey could utter, as the
violence of his emotion so overcame his self-control that he was
obliged to rush out of the room.[1311] The interval of calmness passed
away, and the ravings of delirium were heard again; “Shame, shame upon
a conquered king!” Henry kept muttering over and over again, till the
third morning broke--the seventh day of the fever[1312]--and brought
with it the lightning before death. Once more Geoffrey, stifling his
own distress, came to his father’s side; once more he was rewarded by
seeing Henry’s eyes open and gaze at him with evident recognition; once
more the dying king recurred wistfully to his plans, not this time of
vengeance upon his rebellious sons, but of advancement for the loyal
one, faintly murmuring in Geoffrey’s ear how he had hoped to see him
bishop of Winchester, or better still, archbishop of York;[1313] but he
knew that for himself all was over. He took off a gold finger-ring,
engraved with a leopard[1314]--the armorial device of the Angevin
house--and handed it to Geoffrey, bidding him send it to the king of
Castille, the husband of his daughter Eleanor; he also gave directions
that another precious ring which lay among his treasures should be
delivered to Geoffrey himself, and gave him his blessing.[1315]
After this he was, by his own desire, carried into the chapel of the
castle and laid before the altar; here he confessed his sins to the
attendant bishops and priests, was absolved, and devoutly made his last
Communion. Immediately afterwards he passed away.[1316]
[1309] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9085–9094 (_Romania_,
vol. xi. p. 66).
[1310] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 366.
[1311] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. i. c. 5 (Brewer, vol. iv.
pp. 370, 371).
[1312] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, l. iii. c. 26 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 150).
[1313] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._ as above (p. 371).
[1314] “Pantera.” “The word is doubtful,” notes Mr. Brewer
(_Gir. Cambr._, vol. iv. p. 371); Bishop Stubbs (_Rog. Howden_,
vol. ii. pref. p. lxxi) renders it “panther.”
[1315] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. i. c. 5 (Brewer, vol. iv.
p. 371).
[1316] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 367. Gir. Cambr. _De
Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 28 (Angl. Christ. Soc., p. 156),
says there were no bishops with him at his death; any way,
there were two at his burial. The date of death--July 6--is
given by many authorities: _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p.
71; Rog. Howden as above; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 64;
Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 450, etc.
Then followed one of those strange scenes which so often occurred
after the death of a medieval king. The servants who should have laid
out the body for burial stripped it and left it naked on the ground;
and as during the three days that he lay dying they had plundered him
of everything on which they could lay their hands, the few friends
who were shocked at the sight could not find a rag wherewith to cover
the dead king, till one of his knights, William de Trihan, took off
his own cloak for the purpose.[1317] All this, however, was speedily
set right by William the Marshal. He at once took the command of the
little party--a duty for which Geoffrey was evidently unfitted by the
violence of his grief--sent to call as many barons as were within reach
to attend the funeral, and gave directions for the proper robing of the
corpse.[1318] It was no easy matter to arrange within four-and-twenty
hours, and utterly without resources, anything like a regal burial
for this fallen king.[1319] William, however, managed to do it; and
next day Henry Fitz-Empress, robed as if for his coronation, with a
crown of gold upon his head, a gold ring on his finger, sandals on his
feet, and a sceptre in his gloved right hand,[1320] was borne upon the
shoulders of his barons down from his castle on the rock of Chinon,
across the viaduct which he himself had built over the swampy meadows
beneath, and thence northward along the left bank of the silvery,
winding Vienne to his burial-place at Fontevraud.[1321] He had wished
to be buried at Grandmont;[1322] but this of course was impossible now.
“He shall be shrouded among the shrouded women”--so ran the closing
words of a prophecy which during the last few months had been whispered
throughout Henry’s dominions as a token of his approaching end. It was
fulfilled now to the letter, as he lay in state in the abbey-church of
Fontevraud, while the veiled sisters knelt by night and day murmuring
their prayers and psalms around the bier.[1323]
[1317] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9027–9161 (_Romania_,
vol. xi. p. 66). Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, as above (pp.
156, 157), tells the same story, more highly coloured, but with
less verisimilitude, as he has lost the name of William de
Trihan and turned him into “puer quidam.”
[1318] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9165–9172, 9215–9220 (as
above, pp. 66, 67).
[1319] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 28 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., pp. 157, 158).
[1320] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 71. How hard it was
to manage all this we learn from Gerald: “Vix annulus digito,
vix sceptrum manu, vix capiti corona sicut decuit, quia de
aurifrigio quodam veteri inventa fuit, vix ulla prorsus
insignia regalia nisi per emendicata demum suffragia, eaque
minus congruentia suppetiere.” _De Instr. Princ._ as above (p.
158). The chronicle of Laon, a. 1187, quoted in note (_ibid._),
adds that the gold fringe of which the crown was made came off
a lady’s dress.
[1321] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9071–9223 (_Romania_,
vol. xi. p. 67). See a curious incident at the setting out of
the funeral train, in vv. 9173–9214.
[1322] He had given solemn directions to that effect, when he
thought himself dying at La Motte-de-Ger, in 1170. _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 7.
[1323] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9229–9244 (as above). For
the prophecy and its application see _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 55, and Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 356, 367.
None of the dead king’s friends had thought it necessary to wait for
any instructions from his heir. The marshal, however, had sent to
apprise Richard of his father’s death, and delayed the burial long
enough to give him an opportunity of attending it if he chose to do
so. The other barons were in great dread of meeting the future king
against whom they had been in arms; and several of them were even more
anxious for the marshal than for themselves, for they could not but
imagine that Richard’s heaviest vengeance would fall upon the man who
had unhorsed and all but killed him at Le Mans. More than one of them
offered to place himself and all his possessions at the service of the
comrade whom they all held in such reverence, if thereby anything could
be done to save him from Richard’s wrath. But he only answered quietly:
“Sirs, I do not repent me of what I did. I thank you for your proffers;
but, so help me God, I will not accept what I cannot return. Thanks be
to Him, He has helped me ever since I was made a knight; I doubt not
He will help me to the end.”[1324] Before nightfall Richard overtook
them.[1325] He came, it seems, alone. Vainly did the bystanders seek to
read his feelings in his demeanour; he shewed no sign of either grief
or joy, penitence or wrath; he “spoke not a word, good or bad,”[1326]
but went straight to the church and into the choir, where the body
lay.[1327] For awhile he stood motionless before the bier;[1328] then
he stepped to the head, and looked down at the uncovered face.[1329] It
seemed to meet his gaze with all its wonted sternness; but there were
some who thought they saw a yet more fearful sight--a stream of blood
which flowed from the nostrils, and ceased only on the departure of the
son who was thus proclaimed as his father’s murderer.[1330] Richard
sank upon his knees; thus he remained “about as long as one would take
to say the Lord’s Prayer;”[1331] then he rose and, speaking for the
first time, called for William the Marshal. William came, accompanied
by a loyal Angevin baron, Maurice of Craon. Richard bade them follow
him out of the church; outside, he turned at once to the marshal:
“Fair Sir Marshal, you had like to have slain me; had I received your
spear-thrust, it would have been a bad day for both of us!” “My lord,”
answered William, “I had it in my power to slay you; I only slew your
horse. And of that I do not repent me yet.” With kingly dignity Richard
granted him his kingly pardon at once;[1332] and on the morrow they
stood side by side while Henry Fitz-Empress was laid in his grave
before the high altar by Archbishop Bartholomew of Tours.[1333]
[1324] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9245–9290 (_Romania_,
vol. xi. pp. 67, 68).
[1325] The _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 71, make Richard
meet the corpse on its way; and Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii.
p. 367, follows the _Gesta_. But the _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._
and Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 28 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 157) both distinctly say that he met it at
Fontevraud. The other version is intrinsically most improbable,
for Richard can hardly have been coming from anywhere else than
Tours, and in that case he could not possibly meet the funeral
train on its way from Chinon to Fontevraud. That he should
reach Fontevraud some hours after it, on the other hand, is
perfectly natural; and this is just what Gerald and the French
_Life_ imply; for they both tell us that the funeral started
from Chinon on the day after the death--_i.e._ Friday, July
7--and Gerald (as above, p. 158) implies that the actual burial
took place the day after Richard’s arrival, while in the _Vita
Galfr._, l. i. c. 5 (Brewer, vol. iv. p. 372), he seems to
place it on the Saturday, July 8. See Bishop Stubbs’s preface
to Rog. Howden, vol. ii. p. lxix, note 1. One of the MSS. of
Mat. Paris, _Chron. Maj._ (Luard, vol. ii. p. 344, note 8) has
a curiously different version of Richard’s behaviour on the
occasion.
[1326] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9294–9298, 9300 (p. 68).
[1327] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._ as above.
[1328] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9299, 9300 (as above).
[1329] _Ib._ v. 9301. Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._ and _Vita
Galfr._ as above.
[1330] Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._, dist. iii. c. 28 (Angl.
Christ. Soc., p. 157); _Vita Galfr._, l. i. c. 5 (Brewer, vol.
iv. p. 372). _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 71.
[1331] Gir. Cambr. as above.
[1332] _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9304–9344 (_Romania_,
vol. xi. pp. 68, 69).
[1333] The day is given by Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._ as
above (p. 158), and _Vita Galfr._ as above; the name of the
officiating prelate by R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 65.
Bartholomew was assisted by Archbishop Fulmar of Trier (_ibid._)
CHAPTER VII.
RICHARD AND ENGLAND.
1189–1194.
All doubts as to the destination of Henry’s realms after his death were
settled at once by the discovery of John’s treason. Throughout the
Angevin dominions not a voice was raised to challenge the succession
of Richard. The English marshal and the Angevin barons gathered at
Fontevraud received him unquestioningly as their lord, and were at once
accepted as loyal subjects. One of them indeed, the seneschal of Anjou,
Stephen of Turnham or of Marçay, was flung into prison for failing to
surrender the royal treasure;[1334] but the reason of his failure seems
to have been simply that the treasury was empty.[1335] According to
one contemporary historian, Richard sealed his forgiveness of William
the Marshal by at once despatching him to England with a commission
to hold the country for him--in effect, to act as justiciar--till he
could proceed thither himself.[1336] In all probability, however,
William was authorized to do nothing more than set Eleanor at liberty;
it was she who, by her son’s desire, undertook the office of regent
in England,[1337] which she fulfilled without difficulty for the
next six weeks. Geoffrey the chancellor resigned his seal into his
half-brother’s hands as soon as the funeral was over.[1338] The
promise of the Norman castellans to Henry that they would surrender to
no one but John was of course annulled by later events. John himself
hastened to join his brother; Richard gave him a gracious welcome,
and they returned to Normandy together.[1339] At Séez the archbishops
of Canterbury and Rouen came to meet them, and absolved Richard from
the excommunication[1340] laid on him by the legate John of Anagni.
Thence they all proceeded to Rouen. On July 20 Richard went in state
to the metropolitan church, where Archbishop Walter girded him with
the ducal sword and invested him with the standard of the duchy.[1341]
On the same day he received the fealty of the Norman barons,[1342]
and held his first court as duke of Normandy, and also, it seems, as
king-elect of England, although there had been no formal election. He
at once made it clear that the abettors of his revolt had nothing to
hope from him--three of the most conspicuous had been deprived of their
lands already[1343]--and that his father’s loyal servants had nothing
to fear, if they would transfer their loyalty to him. He shewed indeed
every disposition to carry out his father’s last wishes; he at once
nominated Geoffrey for the see of York, and confirmed Henry’s last
grant to John, consisting of the Norman county of Mortain and four
thousand pounds’ worth of land in England;[1344] at the same time he
bestowed upon William the Marshal the hand of Isabel de Clare, daughter
and heiress of Earl Richard of Striguil, and upon the son of the count
of Perche a bride who had already been sought by two kings--his niece,
Matilda of Saxony.[1345]
[1334] _Gesta Ric._ (“Benedict of Peterborough,” Stubbs, vol.
ii.), p. 71. Cf. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 6.
[1335] See _Hist. de Guill. le Mar._, vv. 9198, 9199
(_Romania_, vol. xi. p. 67).
[1336] _Ib._ vv. 9347–9354 (p. 69).
[1337] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 67.
[1338] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. i. c. 5 (Brewer, vol. iv.
p. 372).
[1339] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 72.
[1340] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 67. How had the
archbishops power to cancel a legatine sentence?
[1341] _Ibid._ _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 73. (The date is from
this last).
[1342] _Gesta Ric._ as above.
[1343] _Ib._ p. 72.
[1344] _Ib._ p. 73. Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 3 (Howlett, vol. i.
p. 301). On John and Mortain see Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii.
p. 6 and note 2, and preface to vol. iii. p. xxiv, note 1.
[1345] _Gesta Ric._ as above.
This last match was evidently intended to secure the attachment of the
important little border-county of Perche in case of a rupture with
France, which seemed by no means unlikely. The alliance of Philip
and Richard had expired with King Henry; now that Richard stood
in his father’s place, Philip saw in him nothing but his father’s
successor--the head of the Angevin house, whose policy was to be
thwarted and his power undermined on every possible occasion and by
every possible means. This was made evident at a colloquy held on
S. Mary Magdalene’s day to settle the new relations between the two
princes; Philip greeted his former ally with a peremptory demand for
the restitution of the Vexin.[1346] Richard put him off with a bribe
of four thousand marks, over and above the twenty thousand promised by
Henry at Colombières; and on this condition, accompanied, it seems,
by a vague understanding that Richard and Adela were to marry after
all,[1347] Philip agreed to leave Richard in undisturbed possession
of all his father’s dominions, including the castles and towns which
had been taken from Henry in the last war,[1348] except those of
Berry and Auvergne.[1349] Thus secured, for the moment at least, in
Normandy, Richard prepared to take possession of his island realm. He
had paved the way for his coming there by empowering Eleanor to make a
progress throughout England, taking from all the freemen of the land
oaths of fealty in his name, releasing captives, pardoning criminals,
mitigating, so far as was possible without upsetting the ordinary
course of justice, the severe administration of the late king. Richard
himself now restored the earl of Leicester and the other barons whom
Henry had disseized six years before.[1350] The next step was to send
home the archbishop of Canterbury and three other English prelates who
were with him in Normandy.[1351] On August 12 they were followed by
Richard himself.[1352]
[1346] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 73, 74. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. iii. pp. 3, 4.
[1347] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 74.
[1348] Rog. Howden as above, p. 4.
[1349] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
29. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ib._), p. 75. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 450.
[1350] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 74, 75.
[1351] _Ib._ p. 75.
[1352] Gerv. Cant. as above, p. 457. The _Gesta Ric._, as
above, give a confused date--“Idus Augusti, die dominicâ post
Assumptionem B. Mariæ.”
His politic measures of conciliation, executed by his mother with
characteristic intelligence and tact, had secured him a ready welcome.
It was only by slow degrees, and with the growing experience of years,
that the English people learned how much they owed to the stern old
king who was gone. At the moment they thought of him chiefly as the
author of grievances which his son seemed bent upon removing.[1353]
Richard’s mother, with a great train of bishops and barons, was
waiting to receive him at Winchester;[1354] there, on the vigil of the
Assumption, he was welcomed in solemn procession;[1355] and there, too,
he came into possession of the royal treasury, whose contents might
make up for the deficiencies in that of Anjou.[1356] So complete was
his security that instead of hastening, as his predecessors had done,
to be crowned as soon as possible, he left Eleanor nearly three weeks
in which to make the arrangements for that ceremony,[1357] while he
went on a progress throughout southern England,[1358] coming back at
last to be crowned by Archbishop Baldwin at Westminster on September
3.[1359] No charter was issued on the occasion. The circumstances of
the new king’s accession were not such as to make any special call for
one; they were sufficiently met by a threefold oath embodied in the
coronation-service, pledging the sovereign to maintain the peace of
the Church, to put down all injustice, and to enforce the observance
of righteousness and mercy.[1360] In the formal election by clergy and
people which preceded the religious rite,[1361] and in the essentials
of the rite itself, ancient prescription was strictly followed. The
order of the procession and the details of the ceremonial were,
however, arranged with unusual care and minuteness; it was the most
splendid and elaborate coronation-ceremony that had ever been seen in
England, and it served as a precedent for all after-time.[1362] Richard
had none of his father’s shrinking from the pageantries and pomps of
kingship; he delighted in its outward splendours almost as much as in
its substantial powers.[1363] He himself, with his tall figure, massive
yet finely-chiselled features, and soldierly bearing, must have been
by far the most regal-looking sovereign who had been crowned since the
Norman Conqueror; and when Archbishop Baldwin set the crown upon his
golden hair, Englishmen might for a moment dream that, stranger though
he had been for nearly thirty years to the land of his birth, Richard
was yet to be in reality what he was in outward aspect, a true English
king.
[1353] Cf. _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 75, 76; and Will. Newb.,
l. iv. c. 1 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 293).
[1354] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 453, 454.
[1355] _Ib._ p. 457. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 67. _Gesta
Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 74.
[1356] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 76, 77.
[1357] “Mater comitis Alienor regina de vocatione comitum,
baronum, vicecomitum, uit sollicita.” R. Diceto as above, p. 68.
[1358] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 77. Gerv. Cant. as above, p.
457, says he went to check the depredations of the Welsh.
[1359] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 78, 79. Gerv. Cant. and R.
Diceto as above. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 5. R. Coggeshall
(Stevenson), pp. 26, 27. Will. Newb. as above (p. 294).
[1360] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 81, 82. R. Diceto as above.
This last was an eye-witness, for, the see of London being
vacant, the dean had to fulfil in his bishop’s stead the duty
of handing the unction and chrism to the officiating primate.
_Ib._ p. 69.
[1361] R. Diceto as above, p. 68.
[1362] See details in _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 80–83; and
Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 9–12.
[1363] We see this in the descriptions of his magnificent
dress, brilliant armour, etc. in the _Itinerarium Regis
Ricardi_.
Such dreams however were soon to be dispelled. On the second day after
his crowning Richard received the homage of the bishops and barons
of his realm;[1364] he then proceeded into Northamptonshire, and on
September 15 held a great council at Pipewell.[1365] His first act
was to fill up the vacant sees, of which there were now four besides
that of York. The appointments were made with considerable judgement.
London, whose aged bishop Gilbert Foliot had died in 1187,[1366] was
bestowed upon Richard Fitz-Nigel,[1367] son of Bishop Nigel of Ely, and
for the last twenty years his successor in the office of treasurer;
while Ely, again vacated scarcely three weeks ago by the death of
Geoffrey Ridel,[1368] rewarded the past services and helped to secure
the future loyalty of Richard’s chancellor, William of Longchamp.[1369]
Winchester, vacated nearly a year ago by the death of Richard of
Ilchester,[1370] was given to Godfrey de Lucy, a son of Henry’s early
friend and servant Richard de Lucy “the loyal”;[1371] Salisbury, which
had been without a bishop ever since November 1184,[1372] was given to
Hubert Walter,[1373] a near connexion of the no less faithful minister
of Henry’s later years, Ralf de Glanville. This last appointment had
also another motive. Hubert Walter was dean of York; he stood at the
head of a party in the York chapter which had strongly disputed the
validity of Geoffrey’s election in the preceding August, and some of
whom had even proposed the dean himself as an opposition candidate
for the primacy.[1374] Hubert’s nomination to Salisbury cleared this
obstacle out of Geoffrey’s way, and no further protest was raised when
Richard confirmed his half-brother’s election in the same council of
Pipewell.[1375]
[1364] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 84.
[1365] _Ib._ p. 85. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 69. Gerv.
Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 458.
[1366] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 5. R. Diceto as
above, p. 47.
[1367] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 85. R. Diceto as above, p. 69.
Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 9.
[1368] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 78. R. Diceto as above, p. 68.
[1369] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 85. R. Diceto as above, p. 69.
Ric. Devizes as above.
[1370] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 58. R. Diceto as above, p. 58.
[1371] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 84. R. Diceto as above, p. 69.
Ric. Devizes as above.
[1372] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 32. _Gesta Hen._
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 320.
[1373] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 84. R. Diceto as above, p. 69.
Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 9.
[1374] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 77, 78. Cf. Gir. Cambr. _Vita
Galfr._, l. i. c. 6 (Brewer, vol. iv. p. 373). Hubert had
indeed been proposed for the see as far back as 1186; _Gesta
Hen._ as above, p. 352. See also Bishop Stubbs’s preface to
Rog. Howden, vol. iv. pp. xxxix–xlvi.
[1375] Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 374).
When, however, the king turned from the settlement of the Church to
that of the state, it became gradually apparent that his policy in
England had only two objects:--to raise money for the crusade, and to
secure the obedience of his realm during his own absence in the East.
These objects he endeavoured to effect both at once by a wholesale
change of ministers, sheriffs and royal officers in general, at the
council of Pipewell or during the ten days which elapsed between its
dissolution and the Michaelmas Exchequer-meeting. The practice of
making a man pay for the privilege either of entering upon a public
office or of being released from its burthen was, as we have seen,
counted in no way disgraceful in the days of Henry I., and by no means
generally reprobated under Henry II. Richard however carried it to a
length which clearly shocked the feelings of some statesmen of the
old school,[1376] if not those of the people in general. The first
to whom he applied it was no less a person than the late justiciar,
Ralf de Glanville. Ralf was, like Richard himself, under a vow of
crusade, which would in any case have rendered it impossible for him
to retain the justiciarship after the departure of the English host
for Palestine.[1377] The king, however, insisted that his resignation
should take effect at once,[1378] and also that it should be paid for
by a heavy fine--a condition which was also required of the Angevin
seneschal, Stephen of Turnham, as the price of his release from
prison.[1379] Worn out though he was with years and labours,[1380] Ralf
faithfully kept his vow.[1381] If all the intending crusaders had done
the same, it would have been no easy matter to fill his place or to
make adequate provision for the government and administration of the
realm. Both king and Pope, however, had learned that for eastern as
well as western warfare money was even more necessary than men; Richard
had therefore sought and obtained leave from Clement III. to commute
crusading vows among his subjects for pecuniary contributions towards
the expenses of the war.[1382] By this means he at once raised a large
sum of money, and avoided the risk of leaving England deprived of all
her best warriors and statesmen during his own absence. Instead of
Ralf de Glanville he appointed two chief justiciars, Earl William de
Mandeville and Bishop Hugh of Durham;[1383] under these he placed five
subordinate justiciars, one of whom was William the Marshal.[1384] The
bishop-elect of London, Richard Fitz-Nigel, was left undisturbed in his
post of treasurer, where his services were too valuable for the king to
venture upon the risk of forfeiting them; but the bishop-elect of Ely,
although a favourite servant and almost a personal friend of Richard,
had to pay three thousand pounds for his chancellorship. On the other
hand, Richard proved that in this instance he was not actuated solely
by mercenary motives, by refusing a still higher bid from another
candidate.[1385] All the sheriffs were removed from office; some seven
or eight were restored to their old places, five more were appointed
to shires other than those which they had formerly administered;[1386]
the sheriffdom of Hampshire was sold to the bishop-elect of
Winchester,[1387] that of Lincolnshire to Gerard de Camville, those
of Leicestershire, Staffordshire and Warwickshire to Bishop Hugh of
Chester;[1388] and the earldom of Northumberland was granted on similar
terms to the justiciar-bishop of Durham.[1389]
[1376] This appears from the tone in which his sales of office,
etc., are described by Richard Fitz-Nigel in the _Gesta Ric._
(Stubbs), pp. 90, 91, and by Roger of Howden (Stubbs), vol.
iii. p. 13.
[1377] He had taken the cross in 1185; Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 302. The _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 87, and Will.
Newb. l. iv. c. 4 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 302) say distinctly that
Ralf himself wished to resign in order to fulfil his vow.
[1378] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 90. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson),
p. 7, says he even put him in ward.
[1379] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), pp. 6, 7.
[1380] _Ib._ p. 9.
[1381] He died at the siege of Acre before October 21, 1190.
_Epp. Cant._ ccclvi. (Stubbs, p. 329).
[1382] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 17.
[1383] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 87. Hugh paid a thousand
marks for the remission of his crusading vow, to enable him to
undertake the office. _Ib._ p. 90.
[1384] Rog. Howden as above, p. 16.
[1385] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 9.
[1386] Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. p. xxix.
[1387] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 10.
[1388] Stubbs as above, pp. xxviii, xxix, and Madox, _Hist.
Exch._, vol. i. p. 458, from Pipe Roll 2 Ric. I.
[1389] Pipe Roll 2 Ric. I. (Stubbs, as above, p. xxviii, note
3). _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 90. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p.
8. Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 5 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 304). Geoff.
Coldingham, c. 9 (_Script. Dunelm. III._, Raine, p. 14). The
grant itself, dated November 25, is in _Scriptt. Dunelm. III._,
App. p. lxii.
Two other matters had to be dealt with before Richard’s preparations
for departure were completed. To guard his realm from external
disturbance, he must secure the fealty of the vassal-rulers of Scotland
and Wales. To guard it against internal treason, he must, if such a
thing were possible, secure the loyalty of the brother whom he was
leaving behind him. The first was at once the less important and the
easier matter of the two. Rees of South Wales had indeed profited
by the change of rulers in England to break the peace which he had
been compelled to maintain with King Henry, and after the council
of Pipewell Richard sent John against him at the head of an armed
force. The other Welsh princes came to meet John at Worcester and
made submission to him as his brother’s representative;[1390] Rees
apparently refused to treat with any one but the king in person, and
accordingly he came back with John as far as Oxford, but Richard would
not take the trouble to arrange a meeting, and was so unconcerned about
the matter that he let him go home again without an audience, and,
of course, in a state of extreme indignation.[1391] His threatening
attitude served as an excuse for raising a scutage, nominally for a
Welsh war;[1392] but the expedition was never made. The king of Scots
was otherwise dealt with. Early in December, while Richard was at
Canterbury on his way to the sea, William the Lion came to visit him,
and a bargain was struck to the satisfaction of both parties. Richard
received from William a sum of ten thousand marks, and his homage for
his English estates, as they had been held by his brother Malcolm;
in return, he restored to him the castles of Roxburgh and Berwick,
and released him and his heirs for ever from the homage for Scotland
itself, enforced by Henry in 1175.[1393]
[1390] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 87, 88.
[1391] _Ib._ p. 97.
[1392] Madox, _Hist. Exch._, vol. i. p. 664, from Pipe Roll 2
Ric. I.
[1393] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 98. Richard’s charter of
release to William is in Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 30; _Gesta
Ric._ as above, pp. 102, 103; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii.
pp. 25, 26. It is dated (in Rymer’s copy) December 5. On this
transaction see also R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 72, and
Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 5 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 304).
Richard’s worst difficulty however was still unsolved: how to prevent
John from trying to supplant him in his absence. Richard knew that this
lad, ten years younger than himself, had been his rival ever since
he was of an age to be a rival to any one; and he knew his brother’s
character as, perhaps, no one else did know it as yet--for their mother
had scarcely seen her youngest child since he was six years old. In the
light of later history, it is impossible not to feel that Richard’s
wisest course, alike for his own sake and for England’s, would have
been to follow the instinct which had once prompted him to insist that
John should go with him to the crusade. In this case however he was now
led astray by the noblest feature in his character, his unsuspecting
confidence and generosity. From the hour of their reconciliation
after their father’s death, Richard’s sole endeavour respecting John
was to gain his affection and gratitude by showering upon him every
honour, dignity and benefit of which it was possible to dispose in his
favour. The grant of the county of Mortain made him the first baron
of Normandy, and it was accompanied by a liberal provision in English
lands. To these were added, as soon as the brothers reached England, a
string of “honours”--Marlborough, Luggershall, Lancaster, each with its
castle; the Peak, Bolsover, and the whole honour of Peverel; those of
Wallingford and Tickhill, and that of Nottingham, including the town;
and the whole shire of Derby;[1394] besides the honour of Gloucester,
which belonged to John’s betrothed bride Avice, and which Richard
secured to him by causing him to be married to her at Marlborough on
August 29,[1395] in spite of Archbishop Baldwin’s protests against a
marriage between third cousins without dispensation from the Pope.
Baldwin at once laid all the lands of the young couple under interdict;
but John appealed against him, and a papal legate who came over in
November to settle Baldwin’s quarrel with his own monks confirmed the
appeal and annulled the sentence of the primate.[1396] At the same time
Richard bestowed upon his brother four whole shires in south-western
England--Cornwall, Devon, Somerset and Dorset--with the ferms and the
entire profits of jurisdiction and administration.[1397] More than this
even Richard could not give; if more was needed to hold John’s ambition
in check, he could only trust to the skilful management of Eleanor.
She was left, seemingly without any formal commission, but with the
practical authority of queen-regent, and with the dowries of two former
queens in addition to her own.[1398]
[1394] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 78. See also Stubbs, _Rog.
Howden_, vol. iii., pref. p. xx.
[1395] _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 78.
[1396] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 72, 73.
[1397] _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 99. Stubbs as above, p. xxv.
Cf. Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 3 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 301), and his
comments on the subject (_ib._ p. 302).
[1398] _Gesta Ric._ as above.
One important part of Richard’s administrative arrangements was however
already upset: William de Mandeville, having gone to Normandy on
business for the king, died there on November 14.[1399] Earl of Essex
by grant of Henry II., count of Aumale by marriage with its heiress,
William had been through life one of Henry’s most faithful friends;
he was honoured and esteemed by all parties on both sides of the sea;
there was no one left among the barons who could command anything like
the same degree of general respect; and Richard for the moment saw no
means of filling his place. He therefore left Bishop Hugh of Durham as
sole chief justiciar; but he made a change in the body of subordinate
justiciars appointed at Pipewell. Two of them were superseded; one was
replaced by Hugh Bardulf, and the other, it seems, by the chancellor
William of Longchamp, who, in addition to the office which he already
held, was put in charge of the Tower of London, and intrusted with
powers which virtually made him equal in authority to the chief
justiciar.[1400]
[1399] R. Diceto as above, p. 73. _Gesta Ric._ as above, p.
92. The day comes from Ralf. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 26,
makes it December 12.
[1400] On these appointments cf. _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p.
101; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 28; Ric. Devizes
(Stevenson), pp. 8, 11; Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 5 (Howlett, vol.
i. p. 306); and Bishop Stubbs’s note, pref. to Rog. Howden as
above, p. xxx.
None of these appointments was in itself unwise; but two worse-matched
yokefellows than the justiciar and the chancellor it would have been
difficult to find. Hugh of Puiset--or “Pudsey,” as his English flock
called him--had stood high in both Church and state ever since the days
of the civil war. Through his mother he was a great-grandson of the
Conqueror, and thus cousin in no remote degree to Henry Fitz-Empress
and Richard Cœur-de-Lion, as well as to Philip of France. We saw
him more than forty years ago, as archdeacon and treasurer of York,
meeting the ecclesiastical censures of his metropolitan with a retort
on equal terms, and wielding not unsuccessfully the weapons both of
spiritual and temporal warfare in the cause of his cousin William of
York and his uncle Henry of Winchester. Since 1153 he had been bishop
of Durham; certainly not an ideal successor of S. Cuthbert; yet his
appointment had been sanctioned by the saintly archbishop Theobald;
and throughout his long episcopate he shewed himself by no means
ill-fitted, on the whole, for his peculiar position. That position, it
must be remembered, had more than that of any other English bishop an
important political side. The bishop of Durham was earl palatine of his
shire; its whole administration, secular as well as ecclesiastical,
was in his hands. His diocesan jurisdiction, again, extended over the
whole of Northumberland, and thus brought him into immediate contact
with the Scots across the border. His diocese was in fact a great
marchland between England and Scotland; he was the natural medium
of communication or negotiation between the two realms; and on him
depended in no small degree the security of their relations with each
other. For such a post it was well to have a strong man, in every sense
of the words; and such a man was Hugh of Puiset. His strength was not
based solely upon an unscrupulous use of great material and political
resources. He was a popular man with all classes; notwithstanding
his unclerical ways, he never fell into any ecclesiastical disgrace
except with his own metropolitan, for whom he was generally more than
a match; and he was one of the very few prelates who managed to steer
their way through the Becket quarrel without either damaging their
reputation as sound churchmen or forfeiting the confidence of Henry II.
His intrigues with the Scot king and the rebel barons in 1174 failed
so completely and so speedily that Henry found it scarcely worth while
to punish them in any way; and on the other hand, Hugh’s position
was already so independent and secure that he himself never found it
worth while to renew them. In his own diocese, whatever he might be
as a pastor of souls, he was a vigorous and on the whole a beneficent
as well as magnificent ruler; the men of the county palatine grumbled
indeed at his extravagance and at the occasional hardships brought
upon them by his inordinate love of the chase, but they were none the
less proud of his splendid buildings, his regal state, and his equally
regal personality. His appearance and manners corresponded with his
character and his rank; he was tall in stature, dignified in bearing,
remarkably attractive in look, eloquent and winning in address.[1401]
Moreover, he had lived so long in England, and all his interests had
so long been centred there, that for all practical purposes, social as
well as political, he was a thorough Englishman--certainly far more
of an Englishman than his young English-born cousin, King Richard.
For the last eight years, indeed, he had held in the north much the
same position as had belonged in earlier times to the archbishops of
York; for the northern province had been without a metropolitan ever
since the death of Roger of Pont-l’Evêque in November 1181,[1402] and
the supreme authority, ecclesiastical as well as secular, had thus
devolved upon the bishop of Durham. He was now threatened with the loss
of this pre-eminence; but he had no intention of giving it up without
a struggle, in which his chances of success were at least as good as
those of his rival the archbishop-elect; and whatever the result might
be with respect to his ecclesiastical independence, he had secured a
formidable counterpoise to the primate’s territorial influence by his
purchase of Northumberland, which made him sole head, under the Crown,
of the civil administration of the whole country between the Tweed and
the Tees.
[1401] On Hugh of Durham see Will. Newb., l. v. c. 10 (Howlett,
vol. ii. pp. 436–438), Geoff. Coldingham, cc. 1, 4, 11, 14
(_Script. Dunelm. III._, Raine, pp. 4, 8, 9, 11, 12, 14), and
Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. pp. xxxiii.–xxxvii.
[1402] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 283. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 10. Will. Newb., l. iii. c. 5 (Howlett,
vol. i. p. 225).
Alike in himself and in his antecedents Hugh of Puiset was the very
antithesis to William of Longchamp. William had nothing of the
stately presence and winning aspect which distinguished the bishop
of Durham; on the contrary, he laboured under personal disadvantages
which should have entitled him to sympathy, but which one of his
political opponents was heartless enough to caricature, after his
fall, in order to make him an object of vulgar contempt and disgust.
His stature was diminutive, his countenance swarthy and ill-favoured,
his figure mis-shapen, and he was moreover very lame.[1403] His
origin was as lowly as his person. His father was a certain Hugh of
Longchamp who in 1156 received from the king a grant of lands in
Herefordshire,[1404] and about the time of the barons’ revolt was
fermor of the honour of Conches in Normandy.[1405] His grandfather was
said to have been a French serf who had fled from the justice of his
lord and found a refuge in the Norman village whence his descendants
took their name.[1406] In Henry’s latter years Hugh of Longchamp was
deep in debt and disgrace,[1407] and his six sons had to make their
way in the world as best they could under the shadow of the king’s
displeasure.[1408] William, whose physical infirmities must have shut
him out from every career save that of a clerk, first appears under
the patronage of Geoffrey the chancellor, as his official in one of
his many pieces of Church preferment, the archdeaconry of Rouen.[1409]
The king, however, remonstrated strongly with his son on the danger
of associating with a man whom he declared to be “a traitor, like his
father and mother before him.”[1410] The end of his remonstrances was
that, shortly before the last outbreak, William fled from Geoffrey to
Richard, and, according to one account, became the chief instigator
of Richard’s rebellion.[1411] However this may be, it is certain that
Richard, while still merely duke of Aquitaine, employed William as his
chancellor,[1412] and that he was not only so well satisfied with his
services as to retain him in the same capacity after his accession to
the crown, but had formed such a high opinion of his statesmanship and
his fidelity as to make him his chief political adviser and confidant.
Richard, like his father, was constant in his friendships, and very
unwilling to discard those to whom he had once become really attached;
his trust in William remained unshaken to the end of his life, and
in some respects it was not misplaced. William seems to have been
thoroughly loyal to his master, and his energy and industry were as
unquestionable as his loyalty. As Richard’s most intimate companion,
confidential secretary, and political adviser in foreign affairs,
William was in his right place; but he was by no means equally well
fitted to be Richard’s representative in the supreme government and
administration of England. He had the primary disqualification of being
a total stranger to the land, its people and its ways. Most likely he
had never set foot in England till he came thither with Richard in
1189; he was ignorant of the English tongue;[1413] his new surroundings
were thoroughly distasteful to him; and as he was by no means of a
cautious or conciliatory temper, he expressed his contempt and dislike
of them in a way which was resented not only by the people, but even
by men whose origin and natural speech were scarcely more English
than his own.[1414] He had in short every qualification for becoming
an extremely unpopular man, and he behaved as if he desired no other
destiny. The nation at large soon learned to return his aversion
and to detest him as a disagreeable stranger; his colleagues in the
administration despised him as an upstart interloper; the justiciar,
in particular, keenly resented his own virtual subordination to one
whom he naturally regarded as his inferior in every way.[1415] It was
sound policy on Richard’s part to place a check upon Hugh of Durham;
and it was not unnatural that he should select his chancellor for that
purpose. The seven happiest years of Henry Fitz-Empress had been the
years during which another chancellor had wielded a power almost as
great as that which Richard intrusted to William of Longchamp. But, on
the other hand, any one except Richard might have seen at a glance that
of all statesmen living, William of Longchamp was well-nigh the least
fitted to reproduce the career of Thomas of London.
[1403] Cf. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 11, with the horrible
caricature in Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 19 (Brewer,
vol. iv. p. 420).
[1404] Pipe Roll 2 Hen. II. (Hunter), p. 51.
[1405] _Mag. Rot. Scacc. Norm._ (Stapleton), vol. i. p. 74. Cf.
Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. p. xxxviii.
[1406] Letter of Hugh of Nonant, in _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs),
p. 216 (also in Rog. Howden, Stubbs, vol. iii. p. 142). Gir.
Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 18 (Brewer, vol. iv. p. 418).
[1407] _Mag. Rot. Scacc. Norm._ (Stapleton), vol. i. p. 74.
Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. pp. xxxviii, xxxix and
notes.
[1408] Stubbs, as above, pp. xxxix, xl.
[1409] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 1 (p. 388).
[1410] _Ibid._ Cf. c. 19 (pp. 420, 421). It does not seem to be
known exactly who William’s mother was; but she brought to her
husband in dower a knight’s fee in Herefordshire under Hugh de
Lacy. See _Lib. Nig. Scacc._ (Hearne), p. 155, and Stubbs, as
above, p. xxxviii, note 4.
[1411] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 19 (p. 421).
[1412] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 6.
[1413] Letter of Hugh of Nonant in _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), vol.
ii. p. 219.
[1414] See Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 19 (Brewer,
vol. iv. p. 424).
[1415] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 101. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. iii. p. 29.
The king left England on December 11.[1416] William was consecrated,
together with Richard Fitz-Nigel, on December 31,[1417] and on the
feast of the Epiphany he was enthroned at Ely.[1418] Immediately
afterwards he began to assert his temporal authority. At a meeting
of the Court of Exchequer the bishop of Durham was turned out by
the chancellor’s orders; presently after he was deprived of his
jurisdiction over Northumberland. Soon after this, Bishop Godfrey of
Winchester was dispossessed not merely of his sheriffdom and castles,
but even of his own patrimony.[1419] For this last spoliation there
is no apparent excuse; that a man should hold a sheriffdom together
with a bishopric was, however, contrary alike to Church discipline and
to sound temporal policy; and the non-recognition of Hugh’s purchase
of Northumberland might be yet further justified by the fact that
the purchase-money was not yet paid.[1420] In February 1190 Richard
summoned his mother, his brothers and his chief ministers to a final
meeting in Normandy;[1421] the chancellor, knowing that complaints
against him would be brought before the king, hurried over in advance
of his colleagues, to justify himself before he was accused,[1422] and
he succeeded so well that Richard not only sent him back to England
after the council with full authority to act as chief justiciar as well
as chancellor,[1423] but at the same time opened negotiations with Rome
to obtain for him a commission as legate[1424]--an arrangement which,
the archbishop of Canterbury being bound on crusade like the king,
would leave William supreme both in Church and state.
[1416] _Gesta Ric._ as above. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p.
73, makes it December 14.
[1417] R. Diceto as above, p. 75. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p.
11.
[1418] R. Diceto as above.
[1419] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 11.
[1420] See Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. p. xxxi. and
note 3.
[1421] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 105, 106.
[1422] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 12.
[1423] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 106. Cf. Ric. Devizes as
above, and Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 14 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 331).
[1424] _Gesta Ric._ as above.
The new justiciar’s first act on his return was to fortify the Tower
of London;[1425] his next was to punish a disturbance which had lately
occurred at York. During the last six months the long-suppressed hatred
which the Jews inspired had broken forth into open violence. The first
pretext had been furnished by a misunderstanding on the coronation-day.
Richard, who had some very strict ideas about the ceremonials of
religion, had given orders that no Jew should approach him on that
solemn occasion; in defiance or ignorance of the prohibition, some
rich Jews came to offer gifts to the new sovereign; the courtiers and
the people seized the excuse to satisfy at once their greed and their
hatred; the unwelcome visitors were driven away, robbed, beaten, some
even slain;[1426] and the rage of their enemies, once let loose, spent
itself throughout the night in a general sack of the Jewish quarter.
Richard, engaged at the coronation-banquet, knew nothing of what had
happened till the next day,[1427] when he did his best to secure the
ringleaders, and punished them severely.[1428] When he was gone,
however, the spark thus kindled burst forth into a blaze in all the
chief English cities in succession, Winchester being almost the sole
exception.[1429] Massacres of Jews took place at Norwich on February 6,
at Stamford on March 7, at S. Edmund’s on March 18, Palm Sunday.[1430]
A day before this last, a yet worse tragedy had occurred at York. The
principal Jews of that city, in dread of a popular attack, had sought
and obtained shelter in one of the towers of the castle, under the
protection of its constable and the sheriff of Yorkshire.[1431] Once
there, they refused to give it up again; whereupon the constable and
the sheriff called out all the forces of city and shire to dislodge
them. After twenty-four hours’ siege the Jews offered to ransom
themselves by a heavy fine; but the blood of the citizens was up, and
they rejected the offer. The Jews, in desperation, resolved to die by
their own hands rather than by those of their Gentile enemies; the
women and children were slaughtered by their husbands and fathers,
who flung the corpses over the battlements or piled them up in the
tower, which they fired.[1432] Nearly five hundred Jews perished in the
massacre or the flames;[1433] and the citizens and soldiers, baulked of
their expected prey, satiated their greed by sacking and burning all
the Jewish houses and destroying the bonds of all the Jewish usurers
in the city.[1434] At the end of April or the beginning of May[1435]
the new justiciar came with an armed force to York to investigate
this affair. The citizens threw the whole blame upon the castellan
and the sheriff; William accordingly deposed them both.[1436] As the
castle was destroyed, he probably thought it needless to appoint a
new constable until it should be rebuilt; for the sheriff--John,
elder brother of William the Marshal--he at once substituted his own
brother Osbert.[1437] Most of the knights who had been concerned in
the tumult had taken care to put themselves out of his reach; their
estates were, however, mulcted and their chattels seized;[1438] and the
citizens only escaped by paying a fine[1439] and giving hostages who
were not redeemed till three years later, when all thought of further
proceedings in the matter had been given up.[1440] Even the clergy of
the minster had their share of punishment, although for a different
offence: William, though his legatine commission had not yet arrived,
claimed already to be received as legate, and put the church under
interdict until his claim was admitted.[1441]
[1425] _Ibid._
[1426] The _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 83, lay the blame
on “curiales”; with Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p.
12, the source of the mischief is “plebs superbo oculo et
insatiabili corde”; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 69, is
so ashamed of the whole business that he tries to shift
the responsibility off all English shoulders alike--“Pax
Judæorum, quam ab antiquis temporibus semper obtinuerant, ab
alienigenis interrumpitur.” Cf. the very opposite tone of R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 28, and the judicial middle course
characteristically steered by Will. Newb., l. iv. cc. 1 and 9
(Howlett, vol. i. pp. 297, 298, 316, 317).
[1427] R. Diceto as above.
[1428] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 84. Rog. Howden as above.
Both take care to assure us that Richard’s severity was owing
not to any sympathy for the Jews, but to the fact that in
the confusion a few Christians had suffered with them. Cf. a
slightly different version in Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 1 (as
above, pp. 297–299).
[1429] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 5.
[1430] R. Diceto as above, p. 75. Cf. Will. Newb., l. iv. cc.
7, 8 (as above, pp. 308–312), who adds Lynn to the series.
[1431] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 107, and a more detailed
account in Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 9 (as above, pp. 312–314).
From him we learn that the Jews of Lincoln did the same, and
with a more satisfactory result.
[1432] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 107. For date--March 16--see
R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 75.
[1433] R. Diceto as above.
[1434] _Gesta Ric._ as above. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii.
p. 34. Cf. the somewhat different version of Will. Newb., l.
iv. cc. 9, 10 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 314–322), and also R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 27, 28.
[1435] The _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 108, say merely “post
Pascha”; Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 11 (as above, p. 323), says
“circa Dominicæ Ascensionis solemnia,” which fell on May 4.
[1436] _Gesta Ric._ as above.
[1437] Rog. Howden as above.
[1438] Will. Newb. as above (p. 323). Cf. Pipe Roll 2 Ric. I.,
quoted in Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. pp. xliv.,
notes 4, 5, xlv., note 1.
[1439] Will. Newb. as above.
[1440] Pipe Roll 5 Ric. I. in Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii.
pref. p. xliv., note 7. Will. Newb., as above (p. 324), says
that nothing further was ever done in the matter.
[1441] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 108, 109.
For the moment William’s power was undisputed even in the north;
for Hugh of Durham was still in Gaul. Now, however, there came a
notice from the king that he was about to send Hugh back to England
as justiciar over the whole country north of the Humber.[1442] Hugh
himself soon afterwards arrived, and hurried northward, in the hope,
it seems, of catching the chancellor on the further side of the Humber
and thus compelling him to acknowledge his inferiority.[1443] In this
hope he was disappointed; they met at Blyth in Nottinghamshire.[1444]
Hugh, impetuous in old age as in youth, talked somewhat too much
as the chancellor had acted--“as if all the affairs of the realm
were dependent on his nod.”[1445] At last, however, he produced the
commission from Richard upon which his pretensions were founded;[1446]
and William, who could read between the lines of his royal friend’s
letters, saw at once that he had little to fear.[1447] He replied
simply by expressing his readiness to obey the king’s orders,[1448]
and proposing that all further discussion should be adjourned to a
second meeting a week later at Tickhill. There Hugh found the tables
turned. The chancellor had reached the place before him; the bishop’s
followers were shut out from the castle; he was admitted alone into
the presence of his rival, who, without giving him time to speak, put
into his hands another letter from Richard, bidding all his English
subjects render service and obedience to “our trusty and well-beloved
chancellor, the bishop of Ely,” as they would to the king himself.
The letter was dated June 6--some days, if not weeks, later than
Hugh’s credentials;[1449] and it seems to have just reached William
together with his legatine commission, which was issued on the previous
day.[1450] He gave his rival no time even to think. “You had your say
at our last meeting; now I will have mine. As my lord the king liveth,
you shall not quit this place till you have given me hostages for the
surrender of all your castles. No protests! I am not a bishop arresting
another bishop; I am the chancellor, arresting his supplanter.”[1451]
Hugh was powerless; yet he let himself be dragged all the way to London
before he would yield. Then he gave up the required hostages,[1452] and
submitted to the loss of all his lately-purchased honours--Windsor,
Newcastle, Northumberland, even the manor of Sadberge which he had
bought of the king for his see[1453]--everything, in short, except his
bishopric. For that he set out as soon as he was liberated; but at his
manor of Howden he was stopped by the chancellor’s orders, forbidden
to proceed further, and again threatened with forcible detention. He
promised to remain where he was, gave security for the fulfilment of
his promise, and then wrote to the king his complaints of the treatment
which he had received.[1454] All the redress that he could get,
however, was a writ commanding that Sadberge should be restored to him
at once and that he should suffer no further molestation.[1455]
[1442] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 109. This appointment is
mentioned (_ib._ p. 106) among those made at the council of
Rouen, where William himself was appointed; but it seems plain
that it was not ratified till some time later.
[1443] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 12.
[1444] _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 109.
[1445] Ric. Devizes as above.
[1446] _Ib._ p. 13. _Gesta Ric._ as above.
[1447] Ric. Devizes as above.
[1448] _Gesta Ric._ as above.
[1449] Cf. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 83, with Ric.
Devizes as above.
[1450] R. Diceto as above.
[1451] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 13.
[1452] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 109. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. iii. p. 35, places the submission at Southwell.
[1453] _Gesta Ric._ as above. On Sadberge see Rog. Howden as
above, p. 13.
[1454] _Gesta Ric._, pp. 109, 110.
[1455] The _Gesta Ric._, p. 110, say Richard ordered the
restitution of Newcastle and Sadberge; for Newcastle Rog.
Howden, as above, p. 38, substitutes “comitatum Northumbriæ”;
but the king’s letter, given by Roger himself (_ib._ pp. 38,
39), mentions nothing except Sadberge. For its date see _ib._
pp. 37 note 1, 39 note 3, and _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 112,
note 1.
The chancellor’s first rival was thus suppressed; but already he
could see other stumbling-blocks arising in his path, not a few of
them placed there by the shortsighted policy of his royal master.
Richard’s reckless bestowal of lands and jurisdictions would, if left
undisturbed, have put the administration of at least ten whole shires
practically beyond the control of the central government. The bishops
of Durham, Winchester and Coventry or Chester would have had everything
their own way, in temporal matters no less than in spiritual,
throughout their respective dioceses. To this state of things William
had summarily put an end in the cases of Northumberland and Hampshire;
in those of Leicestershire, Staffordshire and Warwickshire the
primate had been induced to remonstrate with Hugh of Coventry upon
the impropriety of a bishop holding three sheriffdoms, and Hugh had
accordingly given up two of them, though he managed to get them back
after Baldwin’s death at the close of 1190.[1456] There were however
still four shires in the south-west and one in Mid-England over which
the king’s justiciar was not only without practical, but even without
legal jurisdiction. In these, and in a number of “honours” scattered
over the midland shires from Gloucester to Nottingham, the whole rights
and profits of government, administration and finance belonged solely
to John; for his exercise of them he was responsible to no one but
the king; and thus, as soon as Richard was out of reach, John was to
all intents and purposes himself king of his own territories. For the
present indeed he was unable to set foot in his little realm: Richard
in the spring had made both his brothers take an oath to keep away
from England for three years.[1457] It was however easy enough for
John to govern his part of England, as the whole of it had often been
governed for years together, from the other side of the Channel. He
had his staff of ministers just like his brother--his justiciar Roger
de Planes,[1458] his chancellor Stephen Ridel,[1459] his seneschal
William de Kahaines, and his butler Theobald Walter;[1460] the sheriffs
of his five counties and the stewards or bailiffs of his honours were
appointed by him alone, and exercised their functions solely for
his advantage, without reference to the king’s court or the king’s
exchequer.[1461] It is evident that, even though as yet the sea lay
between them, John had already the power to make himself, if he were
so minded, a serious obstacle to the chancellor’s plans of governing
England for Richard. Moreover, before Richard finally quitted Gaul, his
mother persuaded him to release John from his oath of absence;[1462]
and William of Longchamp himself, in his new character of legate, was
obliged to confirm the release with his absolution.[1463] In view of
the struggle which he now saw could not be far distant, William began
to marshal his political forces and concert his measures of defence. On
August 1 he held a Church council at Gloucester, in the heart of John’s
territories;[1464] on October 13 he held another at Westminster;[1465]
and he seems to have spent the winter in a sort of half legatine, half
vice-regal progress throughout the country, for purposes of justice and
finance and for the assertion of his own authority. This proceeding
stirred up a good deal of discontent. Cripple though he was, William of
Longchamp seems to have been almost as rapid and restless a traveller
as Henry II.; one contemporary says he “went up and down the country
like a flash of lightning.”[1466] It may be however that these words
allude to the disastrous effects of the chancellor’s passage rather
than to its swiftness and suddenness; for he went about in such state
as no minister except Henry’s first chancellor had ever ventured to
assume. His train of a thousand armed knights, besides a crowd of
clerks and other attendants, was a ruinous burthen to the religious
houses where he claimed entertainment; and the burthen was made almost
unbearable by the heavy exactions, from clerk and layman alike, which
he made in his master’s name.[1467]
[1456] See R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 77, 78, and Stubbs,
_Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. p. xxxi. and note 5.
[1457] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 106. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson),
p. 15.
[1458] R. Diceto as above, p. 99.
[1459] _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 224.
[1460] Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 55.
[1461] See Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. pp. xxxiii
and lii.
[1462] _Gesta Ric._ and Ric. Devizes as above.
[1463] Gir. Cambr. _De rebus a se gestis_, l. ii. c. 23
(Brewer, vol. i. p. 86). Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 15, says
the arrangement was that John “in Angliam per cancellarium
transiens staret ejus judicio, et ad placitum illius vel
moraretur in regno vel exularet.” But with Eleanor in England
to back her son, William could really have no choice in the
matter.
[1464] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 83. On the version of
this in Ric. Devizes (as above, pp. 13, 14), see Stubbs, _Rog.
Howden_, vol. iii. pref. p. xlix.
[1465] R. Diceto as above, p. 85. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i.
p. 488, makes it October 16.
[1466] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 14.
[1467] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 214. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. iii. p. 72. Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 14 (Howlett, vol. i.
pp. 333, 334).
That master was now with Philip of France at Messina,[1468] preparing
for his departure from Europe. When he would come back--whether he ever
would come back at all--was felt by all parties to be doubtful in the
extreme. With his ardent zeal, rash valour and peculiar health, he was
little likely to escape both the chances of war and the effects of the
eastern climate;[1469] and the question of the succession was therefore
again becoming urgent. There was indeed not much latitude of choice;
the male line of Anjou, already extinct in Palestine, had in Europe
only three representatives--Richard himself, John, and their infant
nephew Arthur of Britanny. By the strict feudal rule of primogeniture,
Arthur, being Geoffrey’s son, would have after Richard the next claim
as head of the Angevin house. By old English constitutional practice,
John, being a grown man and the reigning sovereign’s own brother,
would have a much better chance of recognition as his successor than
his nephew, a child not yet four years old. Neither alternative was
without drawbacks. Richard himself had made up his mind to the first;
early in November 1190 he arranged a marriage for Arthur with a
daughter of King Tancred of Sicily, on a distinct understanding that
in case of his own death without children Arthur was to succeed to
all his dominions;[1470] while at the same time William of Longchamp
was endeavouring to secure the Scot king’s recognition of Arthur as
heir-presumptive to the English crown.[1471] The queen-mother was
unwilling to contemplate the succession of either Arthur or John; she
was anxious to get Richard married. Knowing that he never would marry
the woman to whom he had been so long betrothed, she took upon herself
to find him another bride. Her choice fell upon Berengaria, daughter
of King Sancho VI. of Navarre;[1472] it was accepted by Richard;
early in February 1191[1473] she went over to Gaul; there she met her
intended daughter-in-law, whom she carried on with her into Italy,
and by the end of March they were both with Richard at Messina.[1474]
On the very day of their arrival Philip had sailed.[1475] After long
wrangling with him, Richard had at last succeeded in freeing himself
from his miserable engagement to Adela;[1476] he at once plighted his
troth to Berengaria; and when his mother, after a four days’ visit, set
out again upon her homeward journey,[1477] his bride remained with him
under the care of his sister the widowed queen Jane of Sicily[1478]
till the expiration of Lent and the circumstances of their eastward
voyage enabled them to marry. The wedding was celebrated and the queen
crowned at Limasol in Cyprus on the fourth Sunday after Easter.[1479]
[1468] Richard was there from September 23, 1190, to April 10,
1191. _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 125, 162; R. Diceto as above,
pp. 84, 91.
[1469] See Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 5 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 306).
[1470] Treaty in _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 133–136, and Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 61–64. It is dateless, but
on November 11 Richard wrote to the Pope telling him of its
provisions and asking for his sanction. _Gesta Ric._ as above,
pp. 136–138; Rog. Howden as above, pp. 65, 66.
[1471] Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 14 (as above, pp. 335, 336).
William represents this as an unauthorized proceeding of the
chancellor’s, contrived in his own interest as against John. He
seems to place it at a later date.
[1472] “Puella prudentior quam pulchra” says Ric. Devizes
(Stevenson), p. 25; but he seems to be contrasting her with
Eleanor. On the other hand, Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 19 (as
above, p. 346), calls her “famosæ pulchritudinis et prudentiæ
virginem.” According to the _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 175,
this had been Richard’s own choice for many years past.
[1473] Richard sent ships to meet her at Naples before the end
of that month. _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 157.
[1474] They arrived on March 30. _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 161.
[1475] _Ibid._
[1476] _Gesta Ric._ as above, pp. 160, 161. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 99. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 86.
Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 26. The actual treaty between
Richard and Philip, of which more later, is in Rymer, _Fœdera_,
vol. i. p. 54.
[1477] She sailed on April 2. _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 161.
Cf. R. Diceto as above.
[1478] _Ibid._ Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 28.
[1479] _Gesta Ric._ as above, pp. 166, 167. Ric. Devizes, p.
39. _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 195, 196.
On her way home Eleanor stopped to transact some diplomatic business
at Rome, and she seems to have remained in Gaul until the beginning of
the next year. Long before she returned to England there were evident
tokens that when Richard had proposed to keep John out of it, he had
for once been wiser than his mother. Early in the year John, profiting
by the liberty which her intercession had procured him, came over to
England and there set up his court in such semi-regal state as to make
it a source of extreme irritation, if not of grave anxiety, to the
chancellor.[1480] Eleanor’s departure thus left William of Longchamp
face to face with a new and most formidable rival; while about the
same time he saw his power threatened on another side. In March 1191
tidings came that Archbishop Baldwin had died at Acre in the foregoing
November.[1481] If a new primate should be appointed, it was to be
expected as a matter of course that the bishop of Ely would lose the
legation; he could hope to retain it only by persuading Richard either
to nominate him to the primacy, or to keep it vacant altogether.
Richard’s notions of ecclesiastical propriety were however too strict
to admit the latter alternative; from the former he would most likely
be deterred by his father’s experiences with another chancellor; so, to
the astonishment of everybody, he nominated for the see of Canterbury
a Sicilian prelate, one of his fellow-crusaders, William archbishop
of Monreale.[1482] Meanwhile John and the chancellor were quarrelling
openly; popular sympathy, which William had alienated by his arrogance
and his oppressions, was on the side of John; even the subordinate
justiciars, who had stood by William in his struggle with Hugh of
Durham,[1483] were turning against him now; from one and all complaints
against him were showering in upon the king;[1484] till at the end of
February Richard grew so bewildered and so uneasy that he decided upon
sending the archbishop of Rouen to investigate the state of affairs in
England and see what could be done to remedy it.[1485]
[1480] See Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. pp. li., lii.
[1481] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 488, 490.
[1482] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 493, 494; date,
January 25 [1191].
[1483] See Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), pp. 11, 12.
[1484] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 158. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. iii. pp. 95, 96.
[1485] _Gesta Ric_. as above. Rog. Howden as above, p. 96. We
get the date approximately from Richard’s letter in R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 90.
The archbishop of Rouen--Walter of Coutances--was a man of noble birth
and stainless character who had been successively archdeacon of Oxford,
treasurer of Rouen cathedral and vice-chancellor to Henry II.;[1486]
in this last capacity he had for eight years done the whole work of
head of the chancery for his nominal chief Ralf of Varneville,[1487]
till Ralf was succeeded in 1182 by the king’s son Geoffrey, and next
year the vice-chancellor was promoted to the see of Lincoln, which
Geoffrey had resigned. A year later Walter was advanced to the primacy
of Normandy.[1488] He was now with Richard, on his way to Holy Land,
but commuted his vow to serve the king.[1489] He was a very quiet,
unassuming person, and certainly not a vigorous statesman; but his
integrity and disinterestedness were above question;[1490] and the
position in which he was now placed was one in which even a Thomas
Becket might well have been puzzled how to act. The only commission
given him by Richard of which we know the date was issued on February
23;[1491] but it was not till April 2 that he was allowed to leave
Messina;[1492] and during the interval Richard, in his reluctance to
supersede the chancellor, seems to have been perpetually changing his
mind and varying his instructions, some of which were sent direct to
England and some intrusted to Walter, till by the time the archbishop
started he was laden with a bundle of contradictory commissions,
addressed to himself, to William and to the co-justiciars, and
apparently accompanied by a verbal order to use one, all or none of
them, wholly at his own discretion.[1493]
[1486] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 10 (Brewer, vol.
iv. p. 408).
[1487] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 367.
[1488] _Ib._ vol. ii. pp. 10, 14, 21.
[1489] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 27--very unfairly coloured.
[1490] Cf. Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 10 (Brewer,
vol. iv. p. 408), and Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 15 (Howlett, vol.
i. p. 336). In this place William calls Walter “virum prudentem
et modestum”; but in l. iii. c. 8 (_ib._ p. 236) he displays a
curiously bitter resentment against him for his abandonment of
the see of Lincoln for the loftier see of Rouen.
[1491] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 90. Gir. Cambr. as
above, c. 6 (p. 401), gives the date as February 20.
[1492] He and Eleanor left Messina together. _Itin. Reg. Ric._
(Stubbs), p. 176.
[1493] This seems the only possible explanation at once of
Walter’s conduct and of the conflicting accounts in R. Diceto
as above, pp. 90, 91; Gir. Cambr. as above (pp. 400, 401);
_Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 158; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii.
pp. 96, 97; Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), pp. 27–29; and Will.
Newb. as above. See Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. pp.
lx., lxi., note 1.
Before he reached England John and the chancellor were at open war.
On Mid-Lent Sunday they met at Winchester to discuss the payment of
John’s pensions from the Exchequer and the possession of certain
castles within his territories.[1494] The discussion clearly ended in a
quarrel; and this served as a signal for revolt against the unpopular
minister. Gerard de Camville, sheriff of Lincolnshire by purchase from
the king, was also constable of Lincoln castle in right of his wife
Nicolaa de Haye. He was accused of harbouring robbers in the castle,
and when summoned before the king’s justices he refused to appear,
declaring that he had become John’s liegeman and was answerable only
to him.[1495] At the opposite end of England Roger de Mortemer, the
lord of Wigmore--successor to that Hugh de Mortemer who had defied
Henry II. in 1156--was at the same moment found to be plotting treason
with the Welsh. Against him the chancellor proceeded first, and his
mere approach so alarmed Roger that he gave up his castle and submitted
to banishment from the realm for three years.[1496] William then
hurried to Lincoln; but before he could reach it Gerard and Nicolaa
had had time to make their almost impregnable stronghold ready for
a siege, and John had had time to gain possession of Nottingham and
Tickhill[1497]--two castles which the king had retained in his own
hands, while bestowing upon his brother the honours in which they
stood. Nicolaa was in command at Lincoln, and was fully equal to the
occasion; her husband was now with John, and John at once sent the
chancellor a most insulting message, taunting him with the facility
with which the two castles had been betrayed,[1498] and threatening
that if the attempt upon Lincoln was not at once given up, he would
come in person to avenge the wrongs of his liegeman.[1499] William saw
that John was now too strong for him; he knew by this time that Pope
Clement was dead,[1500] and his own legation consequently at an end; he
must have known, too, of the mission of Walter of Rouen; he therefore,
through some of his fellow-bishops,[1501] demanded a personal meeting
with John, and proposed that all their differences should be submitted
to arbitration. John burst into a fury at what he chose to call the
impudence of this proposal,[1502] but he ended by accepting it, and on
April 25 the meeting took place at Winchester. The case was decided by
the bishops of London, Winchester and Bath, with eleven lay arbitrators
chosen by them from each party. Their decision went wholly against the
chancellor. He was permitted to claim the restitution of Nottingham and
Tickhill, but only to put them in charge of two partizans of John; his
right to appoint wardens to the other castles in dispute was nominally
confirmed, but made practically dependent upon John’s dictation; he was
compelled to reinstate Gerard de Camville, and moreover to promise that
in case of Richard’s death he would do his utmost to secure the crown
for John.[1503]
[1494] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 26.
[1495] Cf. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 30, with Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 242, 243, and Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 16
(Howlett, vol. i. pp. 337, 338), and see Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_,
vol. iii. pref. pp. lvi., lvii.
[1496] Ric. Devizes as above.
[1497] _Ibid._ _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 207. Will. Newb. as
above (p. 338).
[1498] Ric. Devizes as above.
[1499] _Ibid._ _Gesta Ric._ as above.
[1500] He died on the Wednesday before Easter--April 10--and
his successor Celestine III. was elected on Easter-day. _Gesta
Ric._ as above, p. 161.
[1501] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 31, makes Walter of Rouen
the mediator, but we shall see that this is chronologically
impossible.
[1502] _Ibid._
[1503] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), pp. 32, 33. On the date see
Bishop Stubbs’s notes to _Gesta Ric._, p. 208, and Rog. Howden,
vol. iii. p. 134, and pref. to latter, pp. lviii., lix.
Two days later Walter of Rouen landed at Shoreham.[1504] He was
evidently not wanted now to act as a check upon William of Longchamp;
he might almost expect to be soon wanted as a check upon John; but
meanwhile, he could only stand aside and watch the effect of the
new arrangements. His passive attitude gave, however, an indirect
support to the chancellor; after midsummer, therefore, the latter
ventured to repudiate the concessions wrung from him at Winchester;
he again advanced upon Lincoln, and formally deprived Gerard of the
sheriffdom, which he conferred upon William de Stuteville.[1505] Once
more the other bishops interposed, backed now by the Norman primate.
Another assembly met at Winchester on July 28,[1506] and here a
fresh settlement was made. Gerard was reinstated in the sheriffdom
of Lincolnshire, pending his trial in the king’s court; William and
John were both bound over to commit no more forcible disseizures;
the disputed castles were to be again put in charge for the king,
but through the medium of the archbishop of Rouen instead of the
chancellor, and John was allowed no voice in the selection of the
castellans, who were chosen by the assembly then and there. If the
chancellor should infringe the agreement, or if the king should die,
these castles were to be given up to John; but all reference to his
claims upon the succession to the throne was carefully omitted.[1507]
The contest almost seemed to have ended in a drawn battle. It was
strictly a contest between individuals, involving no national or
constitutional interests. The barons, as a body, clearly sided with
John; but, just as clearly, they sided with him from loyal motives. The
authority of the Crown was never called in question; the question was,
who was fittest to represent and uphold it--the king’s chancellor, or
his brother. Of treason, either to England or to Richard, there was not
a thought, unless--as indeed is only too probable--it lurked in the
mind of John himself.
[1504] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 497, says he landed
about midsummer, and the printed text of R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 90, makes the date June 27; but see note in latter
place. Bishop Stubbs (_Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. p. lix.)
adopts the earlier date.
[1505] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 207.
[1506] The date comes from Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 32,
who however misapplies it. See Bishop Stubbs’s notes to _Gesta
Ric._, p. 208, and Rog. Howden, vol. iii. p. 134.
[1507] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 135–137.
A drawn battle, however, could not possibly be the end of a struggle
between two such men as John of Mortain and William of Longchamp. In
the autumn a new element was added to the strife by the return of
Archbishop Geoffrey of York. For thirty-five years Geoffrey had been
the eldest living child, if indeed he was not actually the first-born,
of Henry Fitz-Empress;[1508] but of the vast Angevin heritage there
fell to his share nothing, except the strong feelings and fiery temper
which caused half the troubles of his life. As a child he had been
brought up at court almost on equal terms with his half-brothers;[1509]
he seems indeed to have been his father’s favourite, till he was
supplanted by the little John. When he grew to manhood, however, Henry
could see no way of providing for him except by forcing him into
a career for which he had no vocation. At an early age he was put
into deacon’s orders and made archdeacon of Lincoln;[1510] in 1173,
when about twenty years of age, he was appointed to the bishopric of
the same place.[1511] The Pope, however, demurred to the choice of
a candidate disqualified alike by his youth and his birth; and when
the former obstacle had been outlived and the latter might have been
condoned, Geoffrey voluntarily renounced an office in which he would
have been secure for life, but which he had never desired and for
which he felt himself unfit,[1512] in order to become his father’s
chancellor and constant companion during the last eight years of his
life. It was Henry’s last regret that this son, the only one of his
sons whose whole life had been an unbroken course of perfect filial
obedience, had to be left with his future entirely at the mercy of his
undutiful younger half-brother. Richard received him with a brotherly
welcome;[1513] when, however, he nominated him to the see of York, he
was indeed carrying out their father’s last wishes, but certainly not
those of Geoffrey himself. Richard seems to have thought that he was
held back by other motives than those of conscience or of preference
for a secular life; he suspected him of cherishing designs upon the
crown.[1514] It can only be said that Geoffrey, so far as appears,
never did anything to justify the suspicion, but shewed on the contrary
every disposition to act loyally towards both his brothers, if they
would but have acted with equal loyalty towards him. As soon however
as the tonsure had marked him irrevocably for a priestly life,[1515]
Richard’s zeal for his promotion cooled. The bishop of Durham, who was
striving to make his see independent of the metropolitan,[1516] and a
strong party in the York chapter with whom Geoffrey had quarrelled on
a point of ecclesiastical etiquette, easily won the king’s ear;[1517]
it was not till the very eve of Richard’s departure from England that
Geoffrey was able to buy his final confirmation both in the see of
York and in the estates which his father had bequeathed to him in
Anjou;[1518] and in March he was summoned over to Normandy and there,
like John, made to take an oath of absence from England for three
years.[1519]
[1508] In the first chapter of his _Life_ by Gerald (Brewer,
vol. iv. p. 363), we are told that Geoffrey was scarcely twenty
when elected to Lincoln, _i.e._ in 1173. But in l. i. c. 13
(_ib._ p. 384), Gerald says that he was consecrated to York
“anno ætatis quasi quadragesimo,” in 1191. These two dates, as
is usual with Gerald in such cases, do not agree, and neither
of them pretends to be more than approximate. Still it seems
plain that Geoffrey’s birth must fall somewhere between 1151
and 1153. Even if we adopt the latest date, he must have
been born in the same year as Eleanor’s first son--the baby
William who died in 1156--and must have been at least two years
older than the young king, four years older than Richard, and
fourteen years older than John.
[1509] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. i. c. 1 (Brewer, vol. iv.
p. 363).
[1510] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. i. c. 1 (Brewer, vol. iv.
p. 363).
[1511] _Ib._ p. 364. Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 22 (Howlett, vol.
i. p. 154).
[1512] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 271, 272. Gir.
Cambr. as above, c. 4 (p. 368). The resignation was formally
completed at Epiphany 1182. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 10.
[1513] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 5 (p. 372).
[1514] _Ib._ c. 8 (p. 379). In c. 7 (p. 374) Gerald actually
represents Geoffrey as entertaining some hope of surviving
and succeeding both his younger brothers; but this is a very
different thing from plotting against them during their lives.
See Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. p. lxvi. As it
turned out, the first part, at any rate, of this dream of
Geoffrey’s was not so mad as it seemed, for he died only four
years before John.
[1515] He was ordained priest September 23, 1189. _Gesta Ric._
(Stubbs), p. 88.
[1516] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 146. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. iii. p. 74.
[1517] _Gesta Ric._ as above, pp. 88, 91, 99. Rog. Howden as
above, pp. 17, 18, 27. Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. i. c. 8
(Brewer, vol. iv. pp. 377, 378).
[1518] _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 100. Cf. Gir. Cambr. as above
(p. 379).
[1519] Gir. Cambr. as above. _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 106.
Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 15.
According to Geoffrey’s own account, he followed his brother as far
as Vézelay, and there won from him a remission of this vow.[1520] It
is certain that by April 1191 Richard had so far changed his mind
again as to be desirous of Geoffrey’s speedy consecration. The Pope’s
consent was still lacking; and the negotiations for obtaining this
were undertaken by the person who, from Geoffrey’s very birth, had
been his most determined enemy--Queen Eleanor. When she went from
Messina to Rome to plead his cause with Clement III. or his successor
Celestine,[1521] it is plain that natural feeling gave way to motives
of policy. She could now see that an archbishop of York might become
very useful in England, in holding the balance between Hugh of Durham
and William of Ely. His canonical authority and personal influence
might furnish, not indeed a counterpoise, but at least a check to the
now unlimited powers of the legate. On the other hand, it was the long
vacancy of York which more than anything else had tended to Hugh’s
exaltation. For ten years the bishop of Durham, with no metropolitan
over him, had virtually been himself metropolitan of northern England.
He strongly resented the filling of the vacant see, and had actually
obtained from Clement III. a privilege of exemption from its
jurisdiction.[1522] If the archbishop of York could be reinstated in
his proper constitutional position, his own interests would lead him to
use it for those of the kingdom and the king.
[1520] Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 11 (p. 382).
[1521] Rog. Howden as above, p. 100. The change in the Papacy
must have occurred while she was there.
[1522] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 146.
Geoffrey’s qualifications and disqualifications for such a task may
be very easily summed up. He had the Angevin fearlessness, energy,
persistence and thoroughness, with a fair share of the versatile
capabilities of the family; he had all their impetuosity, but very
little of their wariness and tact. Mingled with the Angevin fire, there
seems to have run in his veins the blood, and with it the spirit,
of a totally different race. If we may credit on such a point the
gossip of his father’s court, Geoffrey was through his mother a child
of the people--seemingly the English people--and of its very lowest
class.[1523] This consideration has more interest at a later stage of
Geoffrey’s career, when he stands forth as a champion of constitutional
liberty. Until then, there is, so far as we can see, no evidence of any
special sympathy between him and the English people. Yet the plebeian
and probably English element in him existed, or was believed to exist;
and if it did not become, as it easily might have done, an important
element in his political career, it was at any rate not unlikely to
have exercised some influence upon his character.
[1523] W. Map, _De Nugis Cur._, dist. v. c. 6 (Wright, pp.
228–235). Walter is the only writer who tells us anything about
Geoffrey’s mother; as he does not say she was a foreigner, it
seems most probable that he looked upon her as an Englishwoman.
The name which he gives to her--“Ykenai” or “Hikenai”--tells
nothing either way, in itself. But Mr. Dimock (in his preface
to the seventh volume of Gerald’s works, p. xxxvii) throws
doubt upon Walter’s whole account of her except her name,
and suggests that she may have belonged to a knightly family
of _Akeny_ (i.e. Acquigny) in Normandy. This, however, is a
question to be investigated by a biographer of Geoffrey or
a student of his later political career rather than by an
historian of the Angevin kings. The doubts which W. Map tries
to throw upon his connexion with them are probably affected,
and clearly unfounded. Few specimens of the Angevin race are
more unmistakeable than Geoffrey; one might perhaps add, few
more creditable.
Eleanor’s mission to Rome succeeded. Geoffrey’s election and his claim
to the obedience of the bishop of Durham were both confirmed by Pope
Celestine;[1524] he was consecrated at Tours by Archbishop Bartholomew
on August 18, and received his pall on the same day.[1525] He at once
put himself in communication with John, to secure a protector on his
return to his see;[1526] for William of Longchamp, having had no
notice from Richard of the remission of Geoffrey’s vow of absence,
refused to believe in it,[1527] and had not only issued orders for the
archbishop’s arrest as soon as he should land in England,[1528] but
had agreed with the countess of Flanders that no Flemish ship should
be allowed to give him a passage. The countess, however, evaded her
agreement by letting him sail from Wissant in an English boat.[1529]
He landed at Dover on Holy Cross day,[1530] having changed his clothes
to avoid recognition.[1531] The constable of Dover, Matthew de Clères,
was absent; his wife Richenda was a sister of William of Longchamp;
her men-at-arms surrounded the archbishop the moment he touched the
shore, recognized him in spite of his disguise, and strove to arrest
him, but he managed to free himself from their hands and make his way
to the priory of S. Martin, just outside the town. Here for five days
Richenda’s followers vainly endeavoured to blockade and starve him
into surrender.[1532] On the fifth day a band of armed men rushed into
the priory-church, and in the chancellor’s name ordered Geoffrey to
quit the country at once. Geoffrey, seated by the altar, clad in his
pontifical robes and with his archiepiscopal cross in his hand, set
them and their chancellor at defiance.[1533] They dragged him out of
the church by the hands and feet; and as nothing would induce him to
mount a horse which they brought for him, they dragged him on, still in
the same array, still clinging to his cross and excommunicating them
as they went, all through the town to the castle, where they flung him
into prison.[1534]
[1524] _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 209. See Celestine’s letter
(date, May 11) in _Monasticon Angl._, vol. vi. pt. iii. col.
1188, and Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii. pref. p. lxvii, note
2.
[1525] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 96. Cf. _Gesta Ric._
(Stubbs), p. 209; Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. i. c. 13
(Brewer, vol. iv. p. 384). Will. Newb., always hostile to
Geoffrey, declares that “ordine præpostero” he got his pallium
before he was consecrated; l. iv. c. 17 (Howlett, vol. i. pp.
339, 340).
[1526] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 34.
[1527] His disbelief was evidently shared by Roger of Howden
(Stubbs, vol. iii. p. 138); but Roger’s authority, the
treasurer, does not commit himself to any opinion on the
subject. _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 210.
[1528] See the chancellor’s writ--dated Preston, July 30--in
R. Diceto as above, and Gir. Cambr. as above, l. ii. c. 1 (p.
389); and cf. Ric. Devizes and _Gesta Ric._ as above.
[1529] Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 388). Cf. _Gesta Ric._ as
above. The countess--Isabel of Portugal, second wife of Count
Philip--was governing her husband’s territories during his
absence on crusade, where he died.
[1530] R. Diceto as above, p. 97. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i.
p. 504.
[1531] _Gesta Ric._ as above.
[1532] Gir. Cambr. as above (pp. 388–390). Cf. R. Diceto and
_Gesta Ric._ as above, and Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 17 (Howlett,
vol. i. p. 340).
[1533] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 1 (Brewer, vol. iv.
p. 391).
[1534] _Ibid._ (pp. 391, 392). Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), pp.
35, 36. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 97. _Gesta Ric._
(Stubbs), p. 111. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 505. Will.
Newb., l. iv. c. 17 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 340).
This outrage roused up all parties alike in Church and state. England
had had quite enough of persecuted and martyred archbishops. Protests
and remonstrances came pouring in upon the chancellor from the
most opposite quarters:--from the treasurer and bishop of London,
Richard Fitz-Nigel[1535]--from the aged bishop of Norwich, John of
Oxford,[1536] and from the Canterbury chapter,[1537] both of whom had
had only too much experience, in different ways, of the disasters which
might result from such violence to an archbishop. The most venerated
of living English prelates, S. Hugh of Lincoln, at once excommunicated
Richenda, her husband and all her abettors, with lighted candles at
Oxford.[1538] John remonstrated most vehemently of all,[1539] and his
remonstrances procured Geoffrey’s release,[1540] but only on condition
that he would go straight to London and there remain till the case
between him and the chancellor could be tried by an assembly of bishops
and barons.[1541] This of course satisfied nobody. John had no mind
to lose his opportunity of crushing his enemy once for all. From
Lancaster, where he was laying his plans with the help of Bishop Hugh
of Coventry--a nephew of the old arch-plotter Arnulf of Lisieux--he
hurried to Marlborough, and thence sent out summons to all the great
men whom he thought likely to help him against the chancellor. He
was not disappointed. The co-justiciars hastened up from the various
shires where they were apparently busy with their judicial or financial
visitations--William the Marshal from Gloucestershire, William Bruère
from Oxfordshire, Geoffrey Fitz-Peter from Northamptonshire; the
bishops were represented by Godfrey of Winchester and Reginald of Bath,
and the sovereign himself by Walter of Rouen; S. Hugh of Lincoln joined
the train as it passed through Oxford to Reading. From Reading John
sent to call his half-brother to his side. Geoffrey, who was beginning
to be looked upon and to look upon himself as something like another
S. Thomas, had made a sort of triumphal progress from Dover to London;
tied by his parole, he was obliged to ask the chancellor’s consent to
his acceptance of John’s invitation, and only gained it on condition of
returning within a given time.[1542]
[1535] R. Diceto as above. Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 2 (pp. 393,
394).
[1536] Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 394).
[1537] Gerv. Cant. as above, pp. 505, 506.
[1538] Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 393).
[1539] _Ibid._ (p. 394). _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 211. Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 139.
[1540] On September 26; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 97. Cf.
Gir. Cambr. as above, c. 4 (p. 395), Gerv. Cant. as above, p.
507, and Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 36.
[1541] Gir. Cambr. as above.
[1542] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. cc. 4, 5 (Brewer, vol.
iv. pp. 395–397).
The chancellor meanwhile was at Norwich;[1543] and thither John and
the justiciars had already sent him a summons to appear before them
and answer for his conduct towards both Geoffrey of York and Hugh
of Durham, at an assembly to be held at the bridge over the Lodden,
between Reading and Windsor, on Saturday October 5.[1544] William
retorted by a counter-summons to all who had joined the count of
Mortain to forsake him as an usurper and return to their obedience to
the king’s chosen representative.[1545] He hurried, however, to Windsor
in time for the proposed meeting; but when the Saturday morning came,
the earls of Arundel, Warren and Norfolk appeared at the trysting-place
in his stead, pleading ill-health as an excuse for his absence.[1546]
As Saturday was accounted an unlucky day for contracts or settlements
of any kind,[1547] no one regretted the delay; John and the barons,
sitting amid a ring of spectators in the meadows by the Lodden, spent
the day in discussing all the complaints against the chancellor, and
also, apparently, in looking through such of the Norman primate’s
bundle of royal letters as he chose to shew them, and deliberating
which would be most appropriate to the present state of affairs. On one
point all were agreed; the chancellor must be put down at once.[1548]
Early next morning he tried to bribe John into reconciliation, but in
vain.[1549] At the high mass in Reading parish church the whole body of
bishops lighted their candles and publicly excommunicated all who had
been, whether by actual participation, command or consent, concerned in
Archbishop Geoffrey’s arrest;[1550] and at nightfall the chancellor was
compelled to swear that, come what might, he would be ready to stand
his trial at the bridge of Lodden on the morrow.[1551]
[1543] _Ib._ cc. 2, 5 (pp. 393, 394, 397).
[1544] _Ib._ c. 5 (p. 397). Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 37,
giving the date, which is confirmed by one of the summons--that
addressed to the bishop of London--given by R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 98. Cf. also _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 212.
[1545] Gir. Cambr. as above.
[1546] _Ib._ c. 6 (p. 398). Cf. R. Diceto, Ric. Devizes and
_Gesta Ric._ as above.
[1547] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 98.
[1548] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 6 (Brewer, vol. iv.
pp. 398–401).
[1549] _Ib._ c. 7 (p. 402).
[1550] _Ibid._ R. Diceto as above.
[1551] Gir. Cambr. as above.
Scarcely had he set out on the Monday morning when he was met by a
report that his enemies were marching upon London.[1552] The report was
true in substance; John and the barons, instead of waiting for him at
the Lodden bridge, crossed it, and then divided their forces into two
bodies; the smaller, consisting of the bishops and barons with John
himself, proceeded towards Windsor to meet the chancellor; the larger,
comprising the men-at-arms and the servants in charge of the baggage,
was sent on by the southern road to Staines.[1553] Such a movement was
quite enough to justify William in hurrying back to Windsor and thence
on to London as fast as horses could carry him.[1554] Before he could
reach it he met John’s men-at-arms coming up by the other road from
Staines; a skirmish took place, in which John’s justiciar Roger de
Planes was mortally wounded, but his followers seem to have had the
best of the fight,[1555] although they could not prevent the chancellor
from making his way safe into London. Here he at once called a meeting
of the citizens in the Guildhall, and endeavoured to secure their
support against John.[1556] He found, however, a strong party opposed
to himself. On the last day of July[1557]--three days after the second
award between John and William at Winchester--the citizens of London
had profited by the king’s absence and his representative’s humiliation
to set up a _commune_. They knew very well that, as a contemporary
writer says, neither King Henry nor King Richard would have sanctioned
such a thing at any price;[1558] and they knew even better still that
Richard’s chancellor would never countenance it for a moment. With
John they might have a chance, and they were not disposed to lose
it by shutting their gates in his face at the bidding of William of
Longchamp. William, seeing that his cause was lost in the city, shut
himself up in the Tower.[1559]
[1552] _Ibid._ c. 8 (pp. 402, 403). Ric. Devizes (Stevenson),
p. 37. _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 212.
[1553] Cf. Gir. Cambr. as above (pp. 403, 404), and R. Diceto
as above, p. 99. Ric. Devizes, as above, says plainly what the
other writers leave us to guess, that these followers were
meant to go on to London.
[1554] Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 403). Ric. Devizes (Stevenson),
p. 38. R. Diceto and _Gesta Ric._ as above. Cf. Will. Newb., l.
iv. c. 17 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 341, 342).
[1555] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 99. _Gesta Ric._
(Stubbs), p. 212. Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 8
(Brewer, vol. iv. p. 404).
[1556] Gir. Cambr. as above. Cf. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p.
38.
[1557] “Ipsâ die”--the day on which Philip of France set out
homeward from Acre. Ric. Devizes, p. 53.
[1558] _Ib._ pp. 53, 54. Yet Richard had once said that he
would sell London altogether, if he could find anybody who
would give him his price for it. _Ib._ p. 10, and Will. Newb.,
l. iv. c. 5 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 306).
[1559] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 38. R. Diceto as above.
_Gesta Ric._ as above, pp. 212, 218. Will. Newb. as above,
c. 17 (p. 342).
By this time John and his companions were at the gates; a short parley
ended in their admittance.[1560] Next morning barons and citizens
came together in S. Paul’s.[1561]. One after another the chancellor’s
victims, with the archbishop of York at their head, set forth their
grievances.[1562] Archbishop Walter of Rouen and William the Marshal
then produced the king’s letter of February 20, addressed to the
Marshal, and accrediting Walter to him and his fellow-justiciars,
and bidding them, in case of any failure of duty on the chancellor’s
part, follow Walter’s direction in all things.[1563] John and the
barons agreed to act in accordance with these instructions; they won
the assent of the citizens by swearing to maintain the commune;[1564]
the whole assembly then swore fealty to Richard, and to John as his
destined successor.[1565] According to one account they went a step
further: they appointed John regent of the kingdom, and granted him
the disposal of all the royal castles except three, which were to be
left to the chancellor.[1566] Upon the latter they now set out to
enforce their decision at the sword’s point. His forces were more
than sufficient to defend the Tower; they were in fact too numerous;
they had had no time to revictual the place, they were painfully
overcrowded, and before twenty-four hours were over they found their
position untenable.[1567] On the Wednesday William tried to bribe John
into abandoning the whole enterprise, and he very nearly succeeded;
Geoffrey of York and Hugh of Coventry, however, discovered what was
going on, and remonstrated so loudly that John was obliged to drop
the negotiation and continue the siege.[1568] In the afternoon, at
the chancellor’s own request, four bishops and four earls went to
speak with him in the Tower.[1569] Five days of intense excitement
had so exhausted his feeble frame that when they told him what had
passed at the meeting on the previous day, he dropped senseless at
their feet, and when brought to himself could at first do nothing but
implore their sympathy and mediation.[1570] The brutal insolence of
Hugh of Coventry,[1571] however, seems to have stung him into his
wonted boldness again. With flashing eyes he told them that the day
of reckoning was yet to come, when they and their new lord would have
to account for their treason with Richard himself; and he sent them
away with a positive refusal to surrender either his castles or his
seal.[1572] Late at night, however, as he lay vainly endeavouring
to gain a little rest, his friends came and implored him to abandon
the useless struggle with fate; and at last his brother Osbert and
some others wrung from him an unwilling permission to go and offer
themselves as hostages for his submission on the morrow.[1573]
[1560] Gir. Cambr. as above (p. 404).
[1561] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 38, says “in ecclesiâ S.
Pauli”; R. Diceto as above, “in capitulo”; the _Gesta Ric._ as
above, p. 213, and Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 140, say
“in atrio.”
[1562] Ric. Devizes as above. _Gesta Ric._ as above, pp. 213,
218.
[1563] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 213, 218.
[1564] _Ib._ p. 213. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 99.
[1565] _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 214.
[1566] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), pp. 37, 38.
[1567] Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 17 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 342).
[1568] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 9 (Brewer, vol. iv.
p. 406).
[1569] Gerald (_ib._ p. 405), says “quartâ vero feriâ.” Ric.
Devizes (Stevenson), p. 39, says “Dies ille nefastus declinabat
ad vesperam,” which, taken in connexion with what precedes,
ought to mean Tuesday evening; but he seems to have lost
count of the days just here. It is he alone who mentions the
earls; while it is Gerald alone who gives the names of the
bishops--London, Lincoln, Winchester and Coventry.
[1570] Cf. Ric. Devizes as above, and Gir. Cambr. as above, who
tries to colour this scene differently.
[1571] Gir. Cambr. as above (pp. 405, 406).
[1572] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 39.
[1573] _Ib._ p. 40. Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 9
(Brewer, vol. iv. p. 406).
On the Thursday morning the barons assembled in the fields east of the
Tower,[1574] and there William of Longchamp went forth to meet them.
The instant he appeared Hugh of Coventry stepped forward, recited the
whole indictment against him, and pronounced with brutal bluntness the
sentence of the assembly.[1575] William was to be deposed from all
secular authority, to keep nothing but his bishopric and the castles
of Dover, Cambridge and Hereford; he must give hostages for his future
good behaviour; then let him begone wherever he would. The assembly
broke into a chorus of approval which seemed intended to give William
no chance of reply; but his dauntless spirit had by this time regained
its mastery over his physical weakness; he stood quietly till they had
all talked themselves out, and then they had to listen in their turn.
He denied every one of the charges against him; he refused to recognize
either the moral justice or the legal validity of his deposition;
he agreed to surrender the castles, because he no longer had power
to hold them, but he still lifted up his protest, as King Richard’s
lawful chancellor and justiciar, against all the proceedings and the
very existence of the new ministry.[1576] Walter of Rouen was at once
proclaimed justiciar in his stead.[1577] The keys of the Tower and
of Windsor castle, and the hostages, were delivered up next morning,
and William was then allowed to withdraw to Bermondsey, whence on
the following day he proceeded to Dover.[1578] Thence, apparently in
a desperate hope that his men might yet be able to hold the castles
till he could gather means to relieve them, he twice attempted to
escape over sea, first in the disguise of a monk, then in that of a
pedlar-woman. His lameness, however, and his ignorance of English were
fatal to his chances of flight; he was detected, dragged back into the
town, and shut up in prison till all the castles were surrendered. Then
he was set at liberty, and sailed for Gaul on October 29.[1579]
[1574] Ric. Devizes (as above). Gir. Cambr. as above. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 100.
[1575] Ric. Devizes as above.
[1576] _Ib._ pp. 40–42. Cf. Gir. Cambr. and R. Diceto as above;
_Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 214; and Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 17
(Howlett, vol. i. p. 341).
[1577] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 213. Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 18
(Howlett, vol. i. p. 344).
[1578] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 100. Gir. Cambr. _Vita
Galfr._, l. ii. c. 9 (Brewer, vol. iv. p. 407). Ric. Devizes
(Stevenson), p. 42.
[1579] Ric. Devizes as above. R. Diceto as above, pp. 100, 101.
Gir. Cambr. as above, cc. 12, 13 (pp. 410–413). _Gesta Ric._
(Stubbs), pp. 219, 220. Will. Newb. as above, c. 17 (p. 343).
The date comes from R. Diceto.
His opponents, however, were not rid of him yet. The king was now
practically out of reach of his remonstrances and appeals for
succour;[1580] but the Pope was not. William was a bishop; and the
harshness with which he had been treated enabled him now to pose in his
turn as a consecrated victim of profane violence. Celestine III. warmly
took up his cause; he distinctly acknowledged him as legate, whether
with or without a formal renewal of his commission;[1581] and on
December 2 he issued a brief addressed to the English bishops, bidding
them excommunicate all who had taken part in William’s deposition, and
put their lands under interdict till he should be reinstated.[1582]
William, as legate, followed this up by excommunicating twenty-six
of his chief enemies by name, with the archbishop of Rouen at their
head, and, with the Pope’s sanction, threatening to treat John in like
manner, if he did not amend before Quinquagesima.[1583] The bishops,
however, took no notice of his letters, and the justiciars retorted by
sequestrating his see;[1584] they all held him bound by the sentences
pronounced against him at Reading and at London for his persecution
of Geoffrey of York, and their view was upheld by the suffragans of
Rouen, who all treated him as excommunicate.[1585] Geoffrey was now the
highest ecclesiastical authority in England; but he was not the man
to rule the English Church. He had more than enough to do in ruling
his own chief suffragan. As soon as he was enthroned at York,[1586] he
summoned Hugh of Durham to come and make his profession of obedience;
Hugh, who having been reinstated in his earldom of Northumberland[1587]
felt himself again more than a match for his metropolitan, ignored
the summons, whereupon Geoffrey excommunicated him.[1588] This did
not deter John from keeping Christmas at Howden with the bishop;
in consequence of which John himself was for a while treated as
excommunicate by his half-brother.[1589] The momentary coalition,
formed solely to crush the chancellor, had in fact already split into
fragments. The general administration, however, went on satisfactorily
under the new justiciar’s direction, and his influence alone--for
Eleanor was still on the continent[1590]--sufficed to keep John out of
mischief throughout the winter.
[1580] He had written to complain of John’s insubordination,
but Richard did not get the letter till six months after the
writer’s fall. _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 333.
[1581] See _Epp. Cant._ (Stubbs), introd. p. lxxxiii, note 1.
[1582] Letter of Celestine III. in _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp.
221, 222.
[1583] Letter of William “bishop of Ely, legate and
chancellor,” _ib._ pp. 222–224; and Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol.
iii. pp. 152–154.
[1584] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 225.
[1585] _Ib._ p. 221. Cf. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 43.
[1586] On All Saints’ day [1191]. Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l.
ii. c. 11 (Brewer, vol. iv. p. 410).
[1587] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 39.
[1588] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 225. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. iii. pp. 168, 169. See the excellent summary of this
affair in Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 27 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 371,
372).
[1589] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 235, 236.
[1590] She kept Christmas at Bonneville. _Ib._ p. 235. Rog.
Howden as above, p. 179.
Richard’s continental dominions had thus far been at peace--a peace
doubly secured by the presence of Eleanor and the absence of Philip of
France. Shortly before Christmas 1191, however, Philip returned to his
kingdom.[1591] In January 1192 he called the seneschal and barons of
Normandy to a conference, and demanded from them, on the strength of a
document which he shewed to them as the treaty made between himself
and Richard at Messina, the restitution of his sister Adela and her
dower-castles in the Vexin, as well as the counties of Eu and Aumale.
The seneschal, rightly suspecting the paper to be a forgery, answered
that he had no instructions from Richard on the subject, and would
give up neither the lands nor the lady.[1592] Philip threatened war,
and all Richard’s constables prepared for defence.[1593] Meanwhile,
Philip offered to John the investiture of all Richard’s continental
dominions, if he would accept Adela’s hand with them.[1594] That John
had a wife already was an obstacle which troubled neither the French
king nor John himself. He was quite ready to accept the offer; but
meanwhile it reached his mother’s ears, and she hurried to England to
stop him.[1595] Landing at Portsmouth on Quinquagesima Sunday,[1596]
she found him on the point of embarking; the archbishop of Rouen
and the other justiciars gladly welcomed her back to her former
post of regent, and joined with her in forbidding John to leave the
country, under penalty of having all his estates seized in the king’s
name.[1597] They then held a series of councils, at Windsor, Oxford,
London and Winchester;[1598] in that of London the barons renewed their
oath of fealty to the king, but to pacify John they were obliged to do
the like to him as heir,[1599] and the immediate consequence was that
he persuaded the constables of Windsor and Wallingford to surrender
their castles into his hands.[1600] William of Longchamp thought his
opportunity had come. He managed to gain Eleanor’s ear and to bribe
John;[1601] both connived at his return to Dover, and thence he sent
up his demand for restoration to a council gathered in London towards
the close of Lent.[1602] It seems plain that he had won the favour of
the queen; for the justiciars, whose original purpose in meeting had
been to discuss the misdoings of John, now saw themselves obliged to
fetch John himself from Wallingford to support them, as they expected,
in their resistance to the chancellor’s demands. To their dismay John
told them plainly that he was on the point of making alliance with
his old enemy for a consideration of seven hundred pounds.[1603] They
saw that their only chance was to outbid William. They gave John two
thousand marks out of the royal treasury;[1604] Walter of Rouen helped
to persuade the queen-mother,[1605] and the chancellor was bidden to
depart out of the land.[1606]
[1591] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 76.
[1592] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 236. Cf. Ric. Devizes
(Stevenson), p. 56. It is certain that Philip told and acted
a downright lie; for the treaty of Messina is extant, and its
main provisions are these: Richard shall be bound to surrender
Adela only within one month after his own return to Gaul, and
the whole Norman Vexin, including its castles, shall remain
to him and his heirs male for ever. Only in case of his death
without male heir is it to revert to the French Crown; and
as for Aumale and Eu, there is not a word about them. Rymer,
_Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 54.
[1593] _Gesta Ric._ as above. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 55.
[1594] _Gesta Ric._ as above.
[1595] _Ibid._ Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 57.
[1596] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 55. This was
February 11 [1192].
[1597] _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 237.
[1598] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 57.
[1599] _Gesta Ric._ as above. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii.
p. 187.
[1600] Ric. Devizes as above. In Rog. Howden (as above), p.
204, the betrayal of these castles is placed a year later.
Roger’s account of the first few months of 1193 has, however,
somewhat the look of a repetition of the history of 1192, and
his story is much less consistent and circumstantial than
Richard’s, which I have therefore ventured to follow.
[1601] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 239. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. iii. p. 188. Cf. Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 14
(Brewer, vol. iv. p. 413); Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 56; and
Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 512.
[1602] Gir. Cambr., as above, says he landed about April 1,
_i.e._ the Wednesday before Easter. But the other writers seem
to place this council soon after Mid-Lent. Gerv. Cant., as
above, says the chancellor came “mediante mense Martio.”
[1603] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), pp. 58, 59.
[1604] “2000 marks, £500 of which were to be raised from the
chancellor’s estates” is Bishop Stubbs’s interpretation (_Rog.
Howden_, vol. iii. pref. p. xc.) of _Gesta Ric._, p. 239, and
Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 59.
[1605] _Gesta Ric._ as above.
[1606] _Ibid._ Ric. Devizes as above. Gir. Cambr. as above (p.
415). Cf. Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 18 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 345,
346). According to the first authority, William sailed again on
Maunday Thursday, April 2.
Shortly afterwards, two cardinal-legates arrived in France to settle
his dispute with the archbishop of Rouen. When they attempted to enter
Normandy, the seneschal refused them admittance and shut the gates of
Gisors in their faces, pleading that the subjects of an English king
were forbidden by ancient custom to admit legates into any part of
his dominions without his consent. The legates on this excommunicated
the seneschal and laid all Normandy under interdict.[1607] William
had done the same to his own diocese before leaving England.[1608]
Archbishop Walter, the English justiciars, even the queen-mother,
were all at their wits’ end: Philip was openly threatening to invade
the Norman duchy; the obstacle which had prevented him until now--the
unwillingness of the French barons to attack the territories of a
crusader[1609]--would be considerably lessened by the interdict; the
only person who could be found in England capable of undertaking a
negotiation with the legates was Hugh of Durham; but Hugh declined
to go till his own quarrel with his metropolitan was settled,[1610]
and this was not accomplished till the middle of October.[1611] Then
indeed he went to France, and succeeded in obtaining the removal of the
interdict.[1612] But in other quarters the prospect grew no brighter.
Aquitaine, held in check for a while by the presence of its duchess,
had risen as soon as she was out of reach. Count Ademar of Angoulême
marched into Poitou with a large body of horse and foot; taken prisoner
by the Poitevins, he appealed to the French king for deliverance.[1613]
A revolt of the Gascon barons was with difficulty suppressed by the
seneschal, assisted by young Sancho of Navarre,[1614] brother of
Richard’s queen; and the victors rashly followed up their success by a
raid upon Toulouse, which, though it went unpunished for the moment,
could only lead to further mischief.[1615] In England John was still
defying the justiciars; and they dared not proceed to extremities with
him, for they now saw before them an imminent prospect of having to
acknowledge him as their king.
[1607] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 246, 247. Ric. Devizes
(Stevenson), pp. 43, 44.
[1608] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 15 (Brewer, vol.
iv. p. 414). Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), pp. 42, 43, puts this in
the previous October.
[1609] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 236. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. iii. p. 187.
[1610] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 247.
[1611] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 513. Rog. Howden as
above, pp. 170 note, 172.
[1612] _Gesta Ric._ as above, p. 250.
[1613] Chron. S. Albin. a. 1192 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 50).
The sequel of this story, however, clearly belongs to the
following year; so it may be that the whole of it is antedated.
[1614] Rog. Howden as above, p. 194.
[1615] _Ibid._ Cf. Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 55.
Richard’s adventures in the East lie outside the sphere of English
history. The crusade of which he was the chief hero and leader had
indirectly an important effect upon English social life; but it was
in no sense a national undertaking; every man in the host was, like
the king himself, simply a volunteer, not sent out by his country or
representing it in any way. Richard’s glory is all his own; to us,
the practical interest of the crusade in which he won it consists in
the light which it throws upon his character, and on his political
relations with the other princes who took part in the enterprise. The
story, as it comes out bit by bit, oddly intermingled with the dry
details of home affairs, in the English historians of the time, and
as it is told at full length in the “Itinerary” composed by one of
his fellow-crusaders, reads more like an old wiking-saga than a piece
of sober history, and its hero looks more like a comrade of S. Olaf
or Harald Hardrada than a contemporary of Philip Augustus. Nothing
indeed except Richard’s northman-blood can account for the intense
love of the sea, and the consummate seamanship, as sound and practical
as it was brilliant and daring, which he displayed on his outward
voyage. No sea-king of old ever guided his little squadron of “long
keels” more boldly, more skilfully and more successfully through a
more overwhelming succession of difficulties and perils than those
through which Richard guided his large and splendid fleet on its way
from Messina to Acre.[1616] Not one had ever made a conquest at once
as rapid, as valuable and as complete as the conquest of Cyprus,
which Richard made in a few days, as a mere episode in his voyage, in
vengeance for the ill-treatment which some of his ship-wrecked sailors
had met with at the hands of the Cypriots and their king.[1617] But
it was a mere wiking-conquest; Richard never dreamed of permanently
adding this remote island to the list of his dominions; within a few
months he sold it to the Templars,[1618] and afterwards, as they
failed to take possession, he made it over to the dethroned king of
Jerusalem who had helped him to conquer it, Guy of Lusignan.[1619]
The same love of adventure for its own sake colours many of his
exploits in the Holy Land itself. But there we learn, too, that his
character had yet another and a higher aspect. We find in him, side
by side with the reckless northern valour, the northern endurance,
patience and self-restraint, coupled with a real disinterestedness and
a self-sacrificing generosity for which it would be somewhat hard to
find a parallel among his forefathers on either side.[1620] Alike in a
military, a political and a moral point of view, Richard is the only
one among the leaders of the crusading host, except Guy, who comes out
of the ordeal with a character not merely unstained, but shining with
redoubled lustre. And this alone would almost account for the fact
that, before they separated, nearly every one of them, save Guy, had
become Richard’s open or secret foe.
[1616] See the details of the voyage in _Itin. Reg. Ric._
(Stubbs), pp. 177–209; _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 162–169; Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 105–112.
[1617] _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 188–204. _Gesta Ric._
(Stubbs), pp. 163–168. Rog. Howden as above, pp. 105–112. Ric.
Devizes (Stevenson), pp. 47–49. Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 20
(Howlett, vol. i. pp. 350, 351).
[1618] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
35.
[1619] _Ibid._ _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 351. R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 36.
[1620] It is impossible to give illustrations here; the whole
_Itinerarium_, from his arrival at Acre (p. 211) onwards, is in
fact one long illustration.
Envy of a better man than themselves was however not the sole cause
of their hostility. The office of commander-in-chief of the host fell
to Richard’s share in consequence of a catastrophe which altered the
whole balance of political parties in Europe. That office had been
destined for the Emperor Frederic Barbarossa, who for more than thirty
years had stood as high above all other Christian princes in political
capacity, military prowess, and personal nobility of character, as in
titular dignity and territorial power. Frederic set out for Palestine
as early as May 1189;[1621] he fought his way through the treacheries
of the Greek Emperor and the ambushes of the Turkish sultan of Iconium,
only to be drowned in crossing a little river in Asia Minor on June
10, 1190.[1622] These tidings probably met Richard on his arrival
at Messina in September. There he had to deal with the consequences
of another death which had occurred in the previous November, that
of his brother-in-law King William of Sicily.[1623] William was
childless; after a vain attempt to induce his father-in-law Henry
II. to accept the reversion of his crown,[1624] he had bequeathed it
to his own young aunt Constance, who was married to Henry of Germany,
the Emperor’s eldest son.[1625] It was, however, seized by Tancred,
a cousin of the late king.[1626] Richard’s alliance with Tancred,
though on the one hand absolutely necessary to secure the co-operation
of Sicily for the crusade, was thus on the other a mortal offence to
the new king of Germany, who moreover had already a grudge against
England upon another ground:--Henry the Lion had in this very summer
extorted from him almost at the sword’s point his restoration to his
forfeited estates.[1627] Thus when Richard at last reached Acre in June
1191,[1628] he was already in ill odour with the leaders of the German
contingent, the Emperor’s brother Duke Frederic of Suabia and his
cousin Duke Leopold of Austria.
[1621] Ansbert (Dobrowsky), p. 21. Most of the English writers
give a wrong date.
[1622] See the story of Frederic’s expedition and death in
Ansbert (Dobrowsky), p. 21 _et seq._; _Itin. Reg. Ric._
(Stubbs), pp. 43–55; _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 56, 61, 62, 88,
89; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 358; Monach. Florent.,
vv. 245–330 (_ib._ vol. iii. app. to pref. pp. cxiv.–cxvii.).
[1623] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 101, 102.
[1624] “Vidimus, et præsentes fuimus, ubi regnum Palæstinæ,
regnum etiam Italiæ patri vestro aut uni filiorum suorum, quem
ad hoc eligeret, ab utriusque regni magnatibus et populis est
oblatum.” Pet. Blois, Ep. cxiii. (Giles, vol. i. p. 350--to
Geoffrey of York). Bishop Stubbs (_Rog. Howden_, vol. ii. pref.
p. xciii.) interprets “regnum Italiæ” as representing Sicily.
[1625] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 102, 202. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 29, 164 and note.
[1626] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 102.
[1627] See _ibid._ p. 145 and note.
[1628] _Ib._ p. 169.
This, however, was not all. Isaac, the tyrant of Cyprus, whom Richard
had brought with him as a captive, was also connected with the Suabian
and Austrian houses;[1629] his capture was another ground of offence.
Next, when the siege of Acre, which the united forces of eastern and
western Christendom had been pressing in vain for nearly two years,
came to an end a month after Richard joined it,[1630] Richard and
Leopold quarrelled over their shares in the honour of the victory;
Leopold--so the story goes--set up his banner on the wall of the
conquered town side by side with that of the English king, and Richard
tore it down again.[1631] Besides all this, as Richard’s superior
military capacity made him an object of perpetual jealousy to the
other princes, so his policy in Holy Land was in direct opposition to
theirs. Since the death of Queen Sibyl in October 1189,[1632] they
had one and all aimed at transferring the crown from her childless
widower Guy of Lusignan to the lord of Tyre, Conrad, marquis of
Montferrat. Montferrat was an important fief of the kingdom of Italy;
Conrad’s mother was aunt both to Leopold of Austria and to Frederic
Barbarossa;[1633] he thus had the whole Austrian and imperial influence
at his back; and that of Philip of France was thrown into the same
scale, simply because Richard had espoused the opposite cause. Guy
of Lusignan, with a fearlessness which speaks volumes in his favour
as well as in Richard’s, had thrown himself unreservedly on the
generosity and justice of the prince against whom all his race had for
so many years been struggling in Aquitaine; his confidence was met
as it deserved, and from the hour of their meeting in Cyprus to the
break-up of the crusade, Richard and Guy stood firmly side by side. But
they stood alone amid the ring of selfish politicians who supported
Conrad, and whose intrigues brought ruin upon the expedition. Philip,
indeed, went home as soon as Acre was won, to sow the seeds of mischief
in a field where they were likely to bring forth a more profitable
harvest for his interests than on the barren soil of Palestine. But
the whole body of French crusaders whom he left behind him, except
Count Henry of Champagne, made common cause with the Germans and the
partizans of Conrad in thwarting every scheme that Richard proposed,
either for the settlement of the Frank kingdom in Palestine or for the
reconquest of its capital. Twice he led the host within eight miles of
Jerusalem, and twice, when thus close to the goal, he was compelled
to turn away.[1634] Conrad fell by the hand of an assassin in April
1192;[1635] but Guy’s cause, like that of Jerusalem itself, was lost
beyond recovery; all that Richard could do for either was to compensate
Guy with the gift of Cyprus,[1636] and sanction the transfer of the
shadowy crown of Jerusalem to his own nephew, Henry of Champagne.[1637]
Harassed by evil tidings from England and forebodings of mischief
in Gaul, disappointed in his most cherished hopes and worn out with
fruitless labour, sick in body and more sick at heart, he saw that his
only chance of ever again striking a successful blow either for east
or west was to go home at once. After one last brilliant exploit, the
rescue of Joppa from the Turks who had seized it in his absence,[1638]
on September 2 he made a truce with Saladin for three years;[1639] on
October 9 he sailed from Acre.[1640]
[1629] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 59. Ansbert (Dobrowsky),
p. 114.
[1630] On July 12, 1191. _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 232,
233. _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 178, etc.
[1631] See the different versions of this story in Otto of
S. Blaise, c. 36 (Wurstisen, _Germ. Hist. Illustr._, vol. i.
p. 216); Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 514; R. Coggeshall
(Stevenson), p. 59; Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 52; Rigord
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 35; and Mat.
Paris, _Chron. Maj._ (Luard), vol. ii. p. 384.
[1632] _Epp. Cant._ cccxlvi. (Stubbs, p. 329).
[1633] Frederic’s father and Leopold’s father were
half-brothers, sons of the two marriages of Agnes of Franconia,
daughter of the Emperor Henry IV. Conrad’s mother, Judith, was
a child of Agnes’s second marriage with Leopold, marquis of
Austria. Conrad’s father was the Marquis William of Montferrat
who had been one of Henry II.’s allies in his struggle with
the Pope (see above, p. 60); and his elder brother had been
the first husband of Queen Sibyl. On his own iniquitous
marriage, if marriage it is to be called, with her half-sister
and heiress, Isabel--an affair which seems to have actually
broken the heart of Archbishop Baldwin of Canterbury--see
_Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 119–124; _Expugn. Terræ Sanctæ_
(Stevenson, _R. Coggeshall_), p. 256; _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs),
p. 141; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 70, 71. Conrad’s
antecedents are told by Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 320,
321. Considering, however, the case of Guy of Lusignan, it is
perhaps hardly safe to admit a charge of homicide against any
claimant to the throne of Palestine on Roger’s sole authority.
[1634] _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 285–312, 365–396;
Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 174, 175, 179; R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 37–40. See also the characteristic
and pathetic account of Richard’s distress at the last
turning-back, in Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), pp. 75–77.
[1635] _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 339, 340. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 104. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 35.
Rog. Howden (as above), p. 181. Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 24
(Howlett, vol. i. p. 363).
[1636] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
35, makes it a sale; but it is hard to conceive where poor Guy
could have found money for the purchase.
[1637] _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 342, 346, 347. R. Diceto
and Rog. Howden as above. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 35,
36. Will. Newb. as above, c. 28 (p. 374). Henry of Champagne
was son of Count Henry “the Liberal” and Mary, daughter of
Louis VII. and Eleanor.
[1638] _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 403–424. R. Coggeshall
(Stevenson), pp. 41–51. This is really the most splendid of all
Richard’s wiking exploits.
[1639] _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 249. R. Coggeshall
(Stevenson), p. 52. Rog. Howden (as above), p. 184.
[1640] _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 441, 442. R. Diceto (as
above), p. 106. Rog. Howden (as above), p. 185, makes it a day
earlier.
Stormy winds had again parted the king’s ship from the rest of his
fleet when, within three days’ sail of Marseille, he learned that Count
Raymond of Toulouse was preparing to seize him on his landing,[1641]
no doubt in vengeance for the attack made upon Toulouse a few months
before by the seneschal of Gascony. Capture by Raymond meant betrayal
to Philip of France, and Richard knew Philip far too well to run
any needless risk of falling into his hands. Under more favourable
conditions, he might have escaped by sailing on through the strait of
Gibraltar direct to his island realm; but contrary winds made this
impossible, and drove him back upon Corfu, where he landed about
Martinmas.[1642] Thence, in his impatience, he set off in disguise with
only twenty followers[1643] on board a little pirate-vessel[1644] in
which, at imminent risk of discovery, he coasted up the Adriatic till
another storm wrecked him at the head of the Gulf of Aquileia.[1645]
By this time his German enemies were all on the look-out for him,
and whatever his plans on leaving Corfu may have been, he had now no
resource but to hurry through the imperial dominions as rapidly and
secretly as possible. His geographical knowledge, however, seems to
have been at fault, for he presently found himself at Vienna, whither
Leopold of Austria had long since returned. In spite of his efforts to
disguise himself, Richard was recognized, captured and brought before
the duke;[1646] and three days after Christmas the Emperor sent to
Philip of France the welcome tidings that their common enemy was a
prisoner in Leopold’s hands.[1647]
[1641] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 53.
[1642] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 106. _Itin. Reg. Ric._
(Stubbs), p. 442. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 185. R.
Coggeshall as above. The two first supply the dates.
[1643] Rog. Howden as above. The _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (as above)
says four, but there were at least nine with him after his
landing. See Rog. Howden (as above), p. 195.
[1644] _Itin. Reg. Ric._ as above. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson),
pp. 53–54, gives some details highly characteristic of Richard.
The pirates began by attacking the king’s ship, whereupon
he, “for their praiseworthy fortitude and boldness,” made
friends with them, and took his passage in their company. This
is authentic, for the writer had it from one of Richard’s
companions, the chaplain Anselm. _Ib._ p. 54.
[1645] This is the Emperor’s account, given in a letter to
Philip of France; Rog. Howden (as above), p. 195. Cf. Ansbert
(Dobrowsky), p. 114; Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 31 (Howlett, vol.
i. p. 383); _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 42; R. Diceto as
above; R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 54; and Rog. Howden (as
above), p. 185 and note 7.
[1646] He was captured December 20, 1192; _Itin. Reg. Ric._
(Stubbs), p. 443; R. Diceto (as above), p. 107. R. Coggeshall
(Stevenson), p. 56, makes it a day later. Otto of S. Blaise, c.
38 (Wurstisen, _Germ. Hist. Illustr._, vol. i. p. 217), gives
the most detailed account of the capture--an account which
looks too characteristic not to be true. According to him,
Richard stopped to dine at a little inn just outside Vienna,
and to avoid recognition, set to work to broil some meat for
himself. He was holding the spit with his own hands, utterly
forgetful that one of them was adorned with a magnificent
ring, when a servant of the duke chanced to look in, noticed
the incongruity, then recognized the king whom he had seen in
Palestine, and hurried off to report his discovery; whereupon
the duke came in person and seized his enemy on the spot,
in the middle of his cooking. The story of R. Coggeshall
(Stevenson), pp. 55, 56, is somewhat more dignified. Cf.
also Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 31 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 383);
Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 186, 195; and Ansbert
(Dobrowsky), p. 114.
[1647] The letter is in Rog. Howden (as above), pp. 195,
196. “Gratissimum illi super aurum et topazion ... nuntium
destinavit,” says Will. Newb. as above, c. 32 (p. 384).
Philip at once forwarded the news to John, with a renewal of the
proposal which he had made to him a year before. John hurried over
sea and formally did homage to the French king for all his brother’s
continental dominions; but the seneschal and barons of Normandy refused
to acknowledge the transaction, and he hastened back again to try his
luck in England.[1648] There he met with no better success. He called
the justiciars to a council in London, assured them that the king was
dead, and demanded their homage; they refused it; he withdrew in a
rage to fortify his castles, and the justiciars prepared to attack
them.[1649] Before Easter a French fleet sailed to his assistance,
but was repulsed by the English militia assembled at the summons of
Archbishop Walter.[1650] While the justiciars laid siege to Windsor,
Geoffrey of York fortified Doncaster for the king, and thence went
to help his gallant old suffragan and rival, Hugh of Durham, who was
busy with the siege of Tickhill.[1651] The castles had all but fallen,
and John was on the eve of submission, when the victorious justiciars
suddenly grew alarmed at their own success. Richard’s fate was still
so uncertain that they dared not humiliate his heir; and at Eleanor’s
instigation they made a truce with John, to last until All-Saints’
day.[1652]
[1648] Rog. Howden (as above), p. 204. Cf. R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 106. John’s treaty with Philip is in Rymer,
_Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 57; date, February 1193.
[1649] Rog. Howden (as above), pp. 204, 205. Cf. Will. Newb. as
above, c. 34 (p. 390).
[1650] Rog. Howden (as above), p. 205. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),
vol. i. pp. 514, 515.
[1651] Rog. Howden (as above), pp. 206, 208.
[1652] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 207. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 516, says Michaelmas.
The six months of tranquillity thus gained were spent in negotiations
for the king’s release. As soon as the justiciars heard of his capture
they had despatched Bishop Savaric of Bath to treat with the Emperor,
and the abbots of Boxley and Robertsbridge to open communications, if
possible, with Richard himself;[1653] this however was a difficult
matter, for of the place of his confinement nothing was known except
that it was somewhere in the Austrian dominions, and these were to most
Englishmen of that day a wholly undiscovered country. How the captive
was first found history does not say. Tradition filled the blank
with the beautiful story of the minstrel Blondel, wandering through
Europe till he reached a castle where there was said to be a prisoner
whose name no one could tell--winning the favour of its lord and thus
gaining admittance within its walls--peering about it on every side
in a vain effort to catch a glimpse of the mysterious captive, till
at last a well-known voice, singing “a song which they two had made
between them, and which no one knew save they alone,” fell upon his
delighted ear through the narrow prison-window whence Richard had seen
and recognized the face of his friend.[1654] It may after all have been
Blondel who guided the two abbots to the spot; we only know that they
met Richard at Ochsenfurt on his way to be delivered up on Palm Sunday
to the Emperor Henry at Speyer.[1655] Thenceforth the negotiations
proceeded without intermission; but it took nearly a year to complete
them. Personal jealousy, family interest, and pride at finding himself
actually arbiter of the fate of the most illustrious living hero in
Christendom, all tempted Henry VI. to throw as many obstacles as
possible in the way of his captive’s release. Taking advantage of
his own position as titular head of western Christendom, he demanded
satisfaction for all the wrongs which the various princes of the Empire
had received, or considered themselves to have received, at Richard’s
hands, and for all his alleged misdoings on the Crusade, from his
alliance with Tancred to the death of Conrad of Montferrat, in which
it was suggested that he had had a share.[1656] Not one of the charges
would bear examination; but they served Henry as an excuse for playing
fast and loose with Richard on the one side and Philip of France on
the other, and for making endless changes in the conditions required
for Richard’s liberation. These were ultimately fixed at a ransom of a
hundred and fifty thousand marks, the liberation of Isaac of Cyprus,
and the betrothal of Eleanor of Britanny to a son of the Austrian
duke.[1657]
[1653] Rog. Howden (as above), pp. 197, 198.
[1654] _Récits d’un ménestrel de Reims_ (ed. N. de Wailly, Soc.
de l’Hist. de France), cc. 77–81 (pp. 41–43).
[1655] Rog. Howden (as above), p. 198.
[1656] The charges are summed up in R. Coggeshall (Stevenson),
pp. 58, 59. On the death of Conrad see Stubbs, _Itin. Reg.
Ric._, pref. pp. xxii, xxiii.
[1657] Treaty in Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 215,
216. Roger dates it S. Peter’s day; _ib._ p. 215. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 110, makes it July 5. Cf. Will. Newb., l.
iv. c. 37 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 398).
The duty of superintending the collection of the ransom and the
transmission of the hostages required by the Emperor for its payment
had been at first intrusted by Richard to his old friend and confidant,
the chancellor William of Longchamp. William, however, found it
impossible to fulfil his instructions; before the justiciars would
allow him to set foot in England at all, they made him swear to meddle
with nothing outside his immediate commission; when compelled to meet
him in council at S. Albans, Walter of Rouen refused him the kiss of
peace, and the queen-mother and the barons all alike refused to trust
him with the hostages.[1658] Prompt and vigorous measures were however
taken for raising the money. An “aid for the king’s ransom” was one of
the three regular feudal obligations, which in strict law fell only
upon the tenants-in-chivalry; but all the knights’ fees in Richard’s
whole dominions would have been unable to furnish so large a sum as
was required in his case. In addition therefore to an aid of twenty
shillings on the knight’s fee, the justiciars imposed a wholly new tax:
they demanded a fourth part of the revenue and of the moveable goods of
every man, whether layman or clerk, throughout the realm. Severe and
unprecedented as was this demand, it provoked no opposition, even from
the clergy;[1659] it had indeed the active co-operation of the bishops,
under the direction of a new primate--Hubert Walter, the bishop of
Salisbury, who had been one of Richard’s fellow-crusaders, and was now
at Richard’s desire elected to the see of Canterbury.[1660] The nation
seems to have responded willingly to the demands made upon it; yet
the response proved inadequate, and the deficiency had to be supplied
partly by a contribution from the Cistercians and Gilbertines of a
fourth part of the wool of the flocks which were their chief source of
revenue, and partly by confiscating the gold and silver vessels and
ornaments of the wealthier churches.[1661] Similar measures were taken
in Richard’s continental dominions, and they were so far successful
that when the appointed time arrived for his release, in January 1194,
the greater part of the ransom was paid.[1662] For the remainder
hostages were given, of whom one was Archbishop Walter of Rouen.[1663]
This selection left the chief justiciarship of England practically
vacant, and accordingly Richard, before summoning the Norman primate
to Germany, superseded him in that office by bestowing it upon the new
archbishop of Canterbury, Hubert Walter.[1664]
[1658] Gir. Cambr. _Vita Galfr._, l. ii. c. 17 (Brewer, vol.
iv. pp. 415, 416). Cf. Rog. Howden as above, pp. 211, 212.
[1659] Except at York, where the resistance was prompted by
spite against the archbishop. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii.
p. 222.
[1660] Elected May 29, 1193; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp.
108, 109. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 518.
[1661] On the ransom, and how it was raised, see Rog. Howden
as above, pp. 210, 211, 222, 225; R. Diceto as above, p. 110;
Will. Newb. l. iv. c. 38 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 399, 400); and
Bishop Stubbs’s explanations of the matter, in his preface to
Rog. Howden, vol. iv. pp. lxxxii–lxxxvi, and _Constit. Hist._,
vol. i. p. 501.
[1662] Rog. Howden as above, p. 225.
[1663] _Ib._ p. 233. Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 41 (Howlett, vol.
i. p. 404), and R. Diceto as above, p. 113. According to this
last, another of the hostages was William the chancellor; but
his name does not appear in Rog. Howden’s list. One MS. of Ralf
has in its place that of Baldwin Wake. As Baldwin certainly
was a hostage on this occasion, perhaps William was selected
first, and Baldwin afterwards substituted for him. One at least
of the hostages was released before the whole ransom was paid:
Archbishop Walter came back to England on May 19. R. Diceto as
above, p. 115.
[1664] Rog. Howden as above, p. 226. R. Diceto as above, p.
112. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 523.
The new justiciar immediately had his hands full of trouble. At the
prospect of Richard’s return John grew half frantic with rage and
dismay. As early as July 1193, when it became known that Richard
and the Emperor had come to terms, Philip had sent warning to
John--“Beware, the devil is loose again!” and John, without stopping
to reflect that the “devil” could not be really loose till his ransom
was paid, had hurried over sea to seek shelter from his brother’s wrath
under the protection of the French king. Richard, however, at once made
overtures of reconciliation to both;[1665] the terms which he offered
to John were indeed so favourable that the Norman constables refused
to execute them, and thereby put an end to the negotiation.[1666]
In January Philip and John made a last effort to bribe the Emperor
either to keep Richard in custody for another year, or actually to
sell him into their hands.[1667] When this failed, John in the frenzy
of desperation sent a confidential clerk over to England with letters
to his adherents there, bidding them make all his castles ready for
defence against the king. The messenger’s foolish boasting, however,
betrayed him as he passed through London; he was arrested by order
of the mayor, his letters were seized, and a council was hurriedly
called to hear their contents. Its prompt and vigorous measures were
clearly due to the initiative of the new justiciar-archbishop. John was
excommunicated and declared disseized of all his English tenements, and
the assembly broke up to execute its own decree by force of arms. The
old bishop of Durham returned to his siege of Tickhill; the earls of
Huntingdon, Chester and Ferrers led their forces against Nottingham;
Archbishop Hubert himself besieged Marlborough, and took it in a few
days; Lancaster was given up to him by its constable, who happened to
be his own brother; and S. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall--a monastery
whose site, not unlike that of its great Norman namesake, had tempted
one of John’s partizans to drive out the monks and fortify it in his
interest--surrendered on the death of its commander, who is said
to have died of terror at the news of the king’s approach.[1668]
Richard had been set free on February 4.[1669] After a slow progress
through Germany and the Low Countries, he embarked at Swine, near
Antwerp, and landed at Sandwich on March 13.[1670] Following the
invariable practice of his father, he hastened first to the martyr’s
shrine at Canterbury;[1671] next day he was met by the victorious
archbishop hastening to welcome him home,[1672] and three days later
he was solemnly received in London.[1673] As soon as the defenders of
Tickhill were certified of his arrival they surrendered to the bishop
of Durham.[1674] As Windsor, Wallingford and the Peak had been in
the queen-mother’s custody since the truce of May 1193,[1675] only
Nottingham now remained to be won. Richard at once marched against it
with all his forces; the archbishop followed, Hugh of Durham brought
up his men from Tickhill; in three days the castle surrendered, and
Richard was once again undisputed master in his realm.[1676]
[1665] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 216–220.
[1666] _Ib._ pp. 227, 228.
[1667] _Ib._ p. 229. Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 40 (Howlett, vol.
i. p. 402).
[1668] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 236–238.
[1669] _Ib._ p. 233. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 112, 113.
R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 62, dates it February 2.
[1670] Rog. Howden as above, p. 235; R. Coggeshall as above.
Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 524, dates it March 12, and R.
Diceto as above, p. 114, March 20.
[1671] Gerv. Cant. as above. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 63.
[1672] Gerv. Cant. as above, p. 524.
[1673] R. Diceto and R. Coggeshall as above.
[1674] Rog. Howden as above, p. 238.
[1675] _Ib._ p. 207.
[1676] _Ib._ pp. 238–240. R. Diceto and R. Coggeshall as above.
Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 42 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 407, 408).
It must have seemed, to say the least, an ungracious return for the
sacrifices which England had made in his behalf, when the king at
once demanded from the English knighthood the services of a third of
their number to accompany him into Normandy, from the freeholders a
contribution of two shillings on every carucate of land, and from the
Cistercians the whole of their wool for the current year.[1677] In
view of a war with France, of which it was impossible to calculate
either the exigencies or the duration, Richard undoubtedly needed
money; but his needs pressed heavily upon a country which had already
been almost drained to provide his ransom. In justice to him, it must
however be added that the “carucage,” as the new land-tax came to be
called, seems to have been levied not for his personal profit, but as
a supplement to the measures taken by the justiciars in the previous
year, to complete the sum still due to Henry VI. It was in reality an
old impost revived under a new name, for the carucate or ploughland
was in practice reckoned as equivalent to the ancient hide,[1678]
and the sum levied upon it was precisely that which the hide had
furnished for the Danegeld of earlier times.[1679] Its re-imposition
in these circumstances, under a new appellation and for the payment
of what the whole nation regarded as a debt of honour, met with no
resistance. The Cistercians, however, remonstrated so strongly against
the demand for their wool that they were allowed to escape with a
money-compensation.[1680] The taxes were imposed in a great council
held at Nottingham at the end of March and beginning of April,[1681]
where measures were also taken for the punishment of the traitors
and the reconstruction of the administrative body. These two objects
were accomplished both at once, and both were turned to account for
the replenishment of the royal coffers. Except John, Bishop Hugh of
Chester, and Gerard de Camville, who were cited before the king’s court
on a charge of high treason,[1682] none of the delinquents were even
threatened with any worse punishment than dismissal from office. This
was inflicted upon most of those who had taken part in the proceedings
against the chancellor. Several of the sheriffs indeed were only
transferred from one shire to another;[1683] but Gerard de Camville
was ejected without compensation from the sheriffdom of Lincolnshire,
and Hugh Bardulf, one of the subordinate justiciars who had joined
the party of John, from those of Yorkshire and Westmoreland. These
three offices Richard at once put up for sale, and, with a strange
inconsistency, William of Longchamp, whose well-grounded resistance
to the accumulation of sheriffdoms in episcopal hands had been the
beginning of his troubles, now sought to buy the two former, and
also that of Northamptonshire, for himself. He was however outbid by
Archbishop Geoffrey of York, who bought the sheriffdom of Yorkshire
for three thousand marks and a promise of a hundred marks annually as
increment.[1684] This purchase made Geoffrey the most influential man
in the north, for Hugh of Durham, apparently finding himself powerless
to hold Northumberland, had resigned it into the king’s hands.[1685]
William of Scotland immediately opened negotiations with Richard for
its re-purchase, as well as for that of Cumberland, Westmoreland,
Lancaster, and the other English lands held by his grandfather David.
The barons, however, before whom Richard laid the proposal in a council
at Northampton, resented it strongly; Richard’s own military instinct
led him to refuse the cession of the castles, and as William would not
be satisfied without them, the scheme came to nothing.[1686]
[1677] Rog. Howden as above, p. 242. Cf. Will. Newb., l. v. c.
1 (vol. ii. pp. 416, 417).
[1678] That it was so in the reign of Henry I. seems plain from
Orderic’s story about Ralf Flambard re-measuring for William
Rufus “omnes carrucatas, quas Angli hidas vocant” (Ord. Vit.,
Duchesne, _Hist. Norm. Scriptt._, p. 678)--a statement which,
whether the story itself be correct or not, shews that Orderic
himself was accustomed to hear carucates and hides identified.
The settlement of the carucates at a hundred acres in 1198
points to the same identification.
[1679] And seemingly, to the “dona” which took the place of
the Danegeld after its abolition _eo nomine_ in 1163. On the
carucage of 1194 see Stubbs, pref. to Rog. Howden, vol. iv. pp.
lxxxii–lxxxiv and notes, lxxxvi. See also the account of it
given by Will. Newb., l. v. c. i (Howlett, vol. ii. p. 416).
[1680] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 242.
[1681] March 30–April 2. _Ib._ pp. 240–243.
[1682] _Ib._ pp. 241, 242. Cf. the account of John’s
condemnation in Ann. Margam, a. 1199 (Luard, _Ann. Monast._,
vol. i. p. 24).
[1683] Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. p. 503.
[1684] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p, 241.
[1685] _Ib._ p. 249. Will. Newb., l. v. c. 1 (Howlett, vol. ii.
p. 416).
[1686] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 243–245, 249, 250.
Richard meanwhile had been making a progress through Mid-England,[1687]
similar to that which he had made before his crowning in 1189,
and ending at Winchester, where he solemnly “wore his crown” in
the cathedral church on the first Sunday after Easter.[1688] This
ceremonial was in itself merely a revival of the old regal practice
which Henry II. had formally abandoned in 1158; but its revival on
this occasion was prompted by other motives than Richard’s love of
pomp and shew. As a concession to the Emperor’s vanity--for we can
scarcely conceive any other motive--Richard had accepted from Henry
VI. the investiture of the kingdom of Burgundy; “over which,” says
a contemporary English writer, “be it known that the Emperor had
really no power at all,” but for which, nevertheless, he had received
Richard’s homage.[1689] The homage was, of course, as empty as the gift
for which it was due; but insular pride, which had always boasted that
an English king, alone among European sovereigns, had no superior upon
earth, was offended by it none the less; and although the story that
Richard had formally surrendered England itself into Henry’s hands and
received it back from him as a fief of the Empire[1690] may perhaps be
set down as an exaggeration, still it seems to have been felt that the
majesty of the island-crown had been so far dimmed by the transactions
of his captivity as to require a distinct re-assertion.[1691] As he
stood in his royal robes, sceptre in hand and crown on head,[1692] amid
the throng of bishops and barons in the “Old Minster” where so many of
his English forefathers lay sleeping, past shame was forgotten, and
England was ready once again to welcome him as a new king.[1693] But
the welcome met with no response. On May 12--just two months after his
landing at Sandwich--Richard again sailed for Normandy;[1694] and this
time he went to return no more.
[1687] _Ib._ pp. 243–246.
[1688] _Ib._ p. 247. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 114. R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 64. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i.
pp. 524, 525. Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 42 (Howlett, vol. i. p.
408).
[1689] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 226.
[1690] _Ib._ pp. 202, 203. He seems to be the only writer who
mentions it.
[1691] See R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 113; and on the
whole question of this coronation, Bishop Stubbs’s note to Rog.
Howden, vol. iii. p. 247, and his remarks in _Constit. Hist._,
vol. i. pp. 504, 561, 562. Richard himself seems to have
resented the popular view, for R. Coggeshall (Stevenson, p. 64)
says he went through the ceremony “aliquantulum renitens.”
[1692] Rog. Howden (as above), p. 247. See the details of the
ceremony in Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 524–526.
[1693] “Detersâ captivitatis ignominiâ quasi rex novus
apparuit.” Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 42 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 408).
[1694] Rog. Howden as above, p. 251. R. Diceto as above, p.
114. Gerv. Cant. as above, p. 527.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE LATER YEARS OF RICHARD.
1194–1199.
The political history of England during the four years which
followed Richard’s departure over sea is simply the history of the
administration of Hubert Walter. Richard never again interfered in
the concerns of his island realm, save for the purpose of obtaining
money from it; and even the method whereby the money was to be raised
he left, like all other details of administration, wholly to the
justiciar’s discretion. Hubert in fact, as justiciar and archbishop,
wielded during these years a power even more absolute than that
which William of Longchamp had wielded during the king’s absence on
crusade. But Richard’s second experiment in governing England by deputy
succeeded far otherwise than the first. It was, indeed, attended with
far less risk; for the king himself was never really out of reach, and
could at any moment have returned to take up the reins of government
in person, had there been any need to do so. Moreover, the man whom he
now left as viceroy had far other qualifications for the office than
William of Longchamp.
Hubert Walter had been trained under the greatest constitutional lawyer
and most successful administrator of the age, Ralf de Glanville. He
was nephew to Ralf’s wife,[1695] and had been a clerk or chaplain
in Ralf’s household until 1186, when he was appointed dean of
York.[1696] A few months later he was one of five persons nominated
by the York chapter in answer to a royal mandate for election to the
vacant see.[1697] King Henry, however, refused all five, and Hubert
remained dean of York for three years longer. He seems to have held,
besides his deanery, an office at court, either as protonotary or
as vice-chancellor under Geoffrey; for during the last few months
of Henry’s life he is found in Maine attending upon the king,
and apparently charged with the keeping of the royal seal.[1698]
Consecrated to Salisbury by Archbishop Baldwin on October 22,
1189,[1699] he immediately afterwards set out with him for Palestine;
there he won universal esteem by the zeal and ability with which he
exerted himself to relieve the wants of the poorer crusaders;[1700] on
Baldwin’s death Hubert virtually succeeded to his place as the chief
spiritual authority in the host;[1701] and after Richard’s arrival
he made himself no less useful as the king’s best adviser and most
trusty diplomatic agent in Palestine.[1702] It was Hubert who headed
in Richard’s stead the first body of pilgrims whom the Turks admitted
to visit the Holy Sepulchre;[1703] and it seems to have been he, too,
who led back the English host from Palestine to Europe after Richard’s
departure. He hastened as early as possible to visit the king in his
captivity;[1704] and Richard lost no time in sending him to England
to be made archbishop, and to help the justiciars in collecting the
ransom.[1705] They had refused the help of William of Longchamp,
but they could not reject that of Hubert; for they knew that, as a
contemporary historian says, “the king had no one so like-minded with
himself, whose fidelity, prudence and honesty he had proved in so
many changes of fortune.”[1706] Hubert was one of the commissioners
appointed to have the custody of the ransom;[1707] and there can be
little doubt that the scheme by which it was raised was in part at
least devised by his financial genius, and carried into execution by
his energy and skill--qualities which he displayed no less effectively
in dealing with the revolt which was finally quelled by the return of
Richard himself.
[1695] Hubert’s mother and Ralf’s wife were sisters; cf. the
Glanville family history in Dugdale, _Monast. Angl._, vol. vi.
pt. i., p. 380, and the foundation-charter of Arklow, given by
Hubert’s brother Theobald, _ib._ pt. ii. p. 1128. Hubert and
his brothers seem to have been brought up by their aunt and her
husband; Hubert, when dean of York, founded a Premonstratensian
house at West Dereham “pro salute aniniæ meæ, et patris, et
matris meæ, et domini Ranulphi de Glanvillâ, et dominæ Bertriæ
uxoris ipsius, qui nos nutrierunt.” _Ib._ vol. vi. pt. ii. p.
899.
[1696] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. 360. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 310.
[1697] _Gesta Hen._ as above, p. 352.
[1698] See Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iv. pref. p. xli. note 1.
[1699] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 71.
[1700] _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 134–137. _Gesta Ric._
(Stubbs), p. 145.
[1701] R. Diceto as above, p. 88. The Patriarch Heraclius
had become discredited in the eyes of all the right-minded
crusaders by his share in the divorce and remarriage of Queen
Isabel, which broke Baldwin’s heart.
[1702] Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 29 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 378).
[1703] _Ibid._ _Itin. Reg. Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 437, 438.
[1704] Will. Newb. as above, c. 33 (p. 388). Cf. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 209.
[1705] Will. Newb., l. iv. c. 33 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 388). Cf.
Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 516, 517.
[1706] Will. Newb. as above.
[1707] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 212.
Hubert entered upon his vice-royalty--for it was nothing less--under
more favourable conditions than William of Longchamp. He came to it
not as an upstart stranger, but as an Englishman already of high
personal and official standing, thoroughly familiar and thoroughly in
sympathy with the people whom he had to govern, intimately acquainted
with the principles and the details of the system which he was called
upon to administer; his qualifications were well known, and they were
universally acknowledged. Moreover, there was now no one capable of
heading any serious opposition to his authority, at least in secular
affairs. William of Longchamp was still chancellor; but like the
royal master to whose side he clave for the rest of his life, he had
left England for ever. From John there was also nothing to fear. His
intended trial never took place, for he threw himself at Richard’s
feet at the first opportunity, and was personally forgiven; but the
king was wise enough to leave untouched the sentence of forfeiture
passed by the justiciar, and to keep his brother at his own side,
a dependent upon his royal bounty, for nearly twelve months;[1708]
and then he restored to him nothing but the counties of Mortain and
Gloucester and the honour of Eye, but without their castles, giving
him in compensation for the latter and for his other estates a yearly
pension of eight thousand pounds Angevin.[1709] Even John’s capacities
for mischief-making were so far paralyzed by this arrangement that he
seems to have made no further attempt to meddle in English politics so
long as Richard lived. The one man in whom Hubert saw, or fancied he
saw, a possible rival on personal and ecclesiastical grounds, he swept
roughly out of his path. The two primates had already quarrelled over
the privileges of their respective sees, and nothing but the king’s
presence had availed to keep peace between them.[1710] The northern one
had been at feud with his own chapter ever since his appointment, and
they were now prosecuting an appeal against him at Rome. In June 1194,
backed, it can hardly be doubted, by Hubert’s influence, they obtained
from the Pope a sentence which practically condemned Geoffrey without
trial;[1711] and before these tidings reached England in September,
a committee of royal justices, sent by Hubert to deal with the case
in its temporal aspect, had already punished Geoffrey’s refusal to
acknowledge their jurisdiction by confiscating all his archiepiscopal
estates except Ripon.[1712] He went over sea and appealed to the
king, but in vain;[1713] and for the next five years there was again
but one primate in the land. One northern bishop, however, was still
ready to defy Hubert as he had defied William of Longchamp and his
own metropolitan. When the newly appointed sheriff of Northumberland,
Hugh Bardulf, sought to enter upon his office shortly after Richard’s
departure, he found that Hugh of Durham had already made a fresh
bargain with the king, whereby he was to retain the county on a
payment of two thousand marks. He tried, however, as before, to evade
the necessity of payment, and was in consequence forcibly disseized
by Richard’s orders.[1714] Still he was unwilling to give up the
game; and in the spring of 1195 he made another attempt to regain
the territorial influence in the north which Geoffrey’s fall seemed
to have placed again within his reach. The story went in Yorkshire
that he actually succeeded in once more obtaining from Richard--of
course on Richard’s usual terms--a commission as co-justiciar with
Hubert.[1715] Such a commission can hardly have been given otherwise
than in mockery; yet the aged bishop, untaught by all his experience
of the king’s shifty ways, once again set out from York, where he
had just been excommunicating some of Geoffrey’s partizans,[1716] to
publish his supposed triumph in London. Sickness, however, overtook him
on the way; from Doncaster he was compelled to turn back to his old
refuge at Howden, and there on March 3 he died.[1717] His palatinate
was of course taken into the custody of the royal justiciars.[1718] A
fortnight later Celestine III. sent to Archbishop Hubert a commission
as legate for all England;[1719] and thenceforth he was undisputed
ruler alike in Church and state.
[1708] Cf. Rog. Howden as above, pp. 252 and 286, and also R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 64.
[1709] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 286.
[1710] _Ib._ pp. 246, 247, 250; vol. iv. pref. pp. lix, lx.
[1711] _Ib._ vol. iii. pp. 272, 273, 278–286; vol. iv. pref.
pp. lxii, lxiv.
[1712] _Ib._ vol. iii. pp. 261, 262; vol. iv. pref pp. lxi,
lxii.
[1713] Richard in November ordered his restoration, but the
order was not carried out; the brothers went on quarrelling,
and next year Richard again declared the archiepiscopal estates
forfeited, and this time finally. _Ib._ vol. iii. pp. 273, 287;
vol. iv. pref. pp. lxiv, lxix.
[1714] _Ib._ vol. iii. pp. 260, 261; cf. p. 249.
[1715] Will. Newb., l. v. c. 10 (Howlett, vol. ii. pp. 438,
439).
[1716] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 284.
[1717] _Ibid._ Will. Newb. as above (p. 439).
[1718] Rog. Howden as above, p. 285.
[1719] Dated March 18 [1195]. _Ib._ pp. 290–293. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 125–127.
Like most of the higher clergy of Henry’s later years, Hubert was
distinctly more of a statesman than a churchman. His pontificate left
no mark on the English Church; as primate, his chief occupation was
to quarrel with his chapter. No scruples such as had moved Archbishop
Thomas to resign the chancellorship, or had made even Bishop Roger
of Salisbury seek a papal dispensation before he would venture to
undertake a lay office,[1720] held back Hubert Walter from uniting in
his own person the justiciarship and the primacy of all England. He
was, however, a statesman of the best school of the time, steeped in
the traditions of constitutional and administrative reform which had
grown up during Henry’s later years under the inspiration of the king
himself and the direction of Ralf de Glanville. The task of developing
their policy, therefore, could not have fallen to more competent
hands; and as Richard was totally destitute of his father’s business
capacities, it was well that Hubert was left to fulfil it according to
his own judgement and on his own sole responsibility for nearly four
years.
[1720] Will. Malm. _Gesta Reg._, l. v. c. 408 (Hardy, p. 637).
The justiciar’s first act after his sovereign’s departure was to
despatch the judges itinerant upon their annual visitation-tour with
a commission[1721] which struck the key-note of his future policy.
It was the note which had been struck by Henry II. in the Assizes
of Clarendon and Northampton; but the new commission shewed a great
advance in the developement of the principles which those measures
embodied. The jurisdiction of the justices is defined with greater
fulness and extended over a much wider sphere. The “pleas of the
Crown” with which they are empowered to deal include, besides those
formerly recognized under this head, such various matters as the
number and condition of churches in the king’s gift,[1722] escheats,
wardships and marriages;[1723] forgers[1724] and defaulters;[1725]
the harbouring of malefactors;[1726] the arrears of the ransom;[1727]
the use of false measures;[1728] the debts of the murdered Jews; the
fines due from their slayers,[1729] from the adherents of John, and
from his debtors, as well as from his own forfeited property;[1730]
the disposal of the chattels of dead usurers, and also of crusaders
who had died before setting out on their pilgrimage;[1731] and the
taking of recognitions under the Great Assize concerning land worth
not more than five pounds a year.[1732] In all these proceedings the
chief object evidently was to procure money for the royal treasury; a
tallage which the judges were also directed to assess upon all cities,
towns and royal demesnes[1733] being deemed insufficient to supply its
needs. The details of this multifarious business are however of less
historical importance than the method employed for its transaction.
Every item of it was to be dealt with on the presentment of what may
now be called the “grand jury”--the jury of sworn recognitors in
every shire, whose functions, hitherto confined to the presentment of
criminals, were thus extended to all branches of judicial work. This
growth in the importance of the jury was marked by the introduction
of a new ordinance for its constitution. The Assizes of Clarendon and
Northampton simply ordered that the jury should consist of twelve
lawful men of every hundred and four of every township, without
specifying how they were to be selected. Most probably they were
nominated by the sheriff.[1734] The recognitors employed in the civil
process known as the Great Assize, however, were from the first
appointed in a special manner prescribed in the Assize itself. Four
knights of the shire were summoned by the sheriff, and these four
elected the twelve recognitors.[1735] By the “Form of proceeding in
the pleas of the Crown” delivered to the justices-errant in 1194,
this method of election was applied to the jury of presentment in
all cases, with a modification which removed the choice yet one step
further from the mere nomination of the sheriff. Four knights were
first to be chosen out of the whole shire; these were to elect two
out of every hundred or wapentake, and these two were to choose ten
others, who with them constituted the legal twelve.[1736] Whether or
not the choice of the first four was actually, as seems most probable,
transferred from the sheriff to the body of the freeholders assembled
in the county-court,[1737] still this enactment shews a distinct
advance in the principles of election and representation, as opposed
to that of mere nomination by a royal officer. Another step in the
same direction was the appointment of three knights and a clerk to be
“elected in every shire to keep the pleas of the Crown.”[1738] This
was the origin of the office afterwards known as that of coroner. It
had the effect of depriving the sheriff of a considerable part of his
judicial functions; and his importance was at the same time yet further
limited by an order that no sheriff should act as justiciar in his own
shire, nor in any shire which he had held at any time since the king’s
first crowning.[1739] The difficulty of checking the abuse of power in
the hands of the sheriffs, which Henry had been unable to overcome,
had certainly not been lessened by Richard’s way of distributing the
sheriffdoms in his earlier years. It had indeed become so serious
that in this very year either the new justiciar, or possibly the king
himself, proposed an inquisition similar to that made by Henry in
1170, into the administration of all servants of the Crown, whether
justices, sheriffs, constables, or foresters, since the beginning of
the reign. When the king was gone, however, it seems to have been
felt that such an undertaking would add too heavily to the labours of
the judges-errant; and the inquiry was accordingly postponed for an
indefinite time by the archbishop’s orders.[1740]
[1721] “Forma qualiter procedendum est in placitis Coronæ
Regis.” Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 262–267; Stubbs,
_Select Charters_, pp. 259–263.
[1722] _Forma procedendi_, c. 4 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p.
259).
[1723] _Ib._ cc. 3, 5, 6, 23 (pp. 259, 260, 261).
[1724] _Ib._ c. 8 (p. 260).
[1725] _Ib._ c. 19 (as above).
[1726] _Ib._ c. 7 (as above).
[1727] _Ib._ c. 10 (as above).
[1728] _Ib._ c. 16 (as above). Richard had at the beginning of
his reign caused all weights and measures to be reduced to one
standard; Mat. Paris, _Chron. Maj._ (Luard), vol. ii. p. 351.
[1729] _Forma proced._, c. 9 (as above).
[1730] _Ib._ cc. 11–14 (as above).
[1731] _Ib._ cc. 15, 17 (as above).
[1732] _Ib._ c. 18 (as above).
[1733] _Ib._ c. 22 (p. 261).
[1734] Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iv. pref. pp. xcvi, xcvii.
[1735] R. Glanville, _De Legg. Angl._, l. xiii. c. 3.
[1736] _Forma proced._, introductory chap., Stubbs, _Select
Charters_, p. 259; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 262.
[1737] Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, as above, pp. xcvii–xcix.
[1738] _Forma proced._, c. 20 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p.
260).
[1739] _Ib._ c. 21 (as above).
[1740] _Ib._ c. 25 (p. 263).
The principle of co-operation between the government and the people
for maintaining order and peace, which underlies all Henry’s reforming
measures, and of which the new regulations for election of the
grand jury are a further recognition, was again enunciated yet more
distinctly in the following year. An edict was published requiring
every man above the age of fifteen years to take an oath that he would
do all that in him lay for the preservation of the king’s peace; that
he would neither be a thief or robber, nor a receiver or accomplice of
such persons, but would do his utmost to denounce and deliver them to
the sheriff, would join to the uttermost of his power in the pursuit of
malefactors when hue and cry was raised against them, and would deliver
up to the sheriff all persons who should have failed to perform their
share in this duty.[1741] The obligation binding upon every member
of the state to lend his aid for the punishment of offences against
its peace had been declared, in words which are almost echoed in this
edict, as long ago as the reign of Cnut.[1742] The difficulty of
enforcing it caused by the disorganized condition of society which had
grown up during the civil war was probably the reason which led Henry,
in framing his Assizes of Clarendon and Northampton, at once to define
it more narrowly and to lay the responsibility of its execution upon a
smaller body of men specially appointed for the purpose in every shire.
The completeness of organization which the system introduced by these
Assizes had now attained, however, gave scope for a wider application
of the principle through one of those revivals of older custom in which
the enduring character of our ancient national institutions and their
capacity for adaptation to the most diverse conditions of national
life are so often and so strikingly displayed. The edict of 1195 forms
a link between the usage of Cnut’s day and that of modern times. It
directed that the oath should be taken before knights assigned for the
purpose in every shire; out of the office thus created there seems to
have grown that of conservators of the peace; and this again developed
in the fourteenth century into that of justices of the peace, which has
retained an unbroken existence down to our own age.[1743]
[1741] _Edictum Regium._ Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp.
299, 300; Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 264.
[1742] “And we will that every man above xii years make oath
that he will neither be a thief nor cognizant of theft.” Cnut,
Secular Dooms, c. 21, Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 74.
[1743] Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 263; _Constit. Hist._,
vol. i. p. 507; pref. to Rog. Howden, vol. iv. pp. c, ci.
The same year was marked by the only important ecclesiastical act of
Hubert’s pontificate. Having received in the spring his commission
as legate, he made use of it to hold a visitation of the northern
province--now, by Geoffrey’s absence and Hugh of Puiset’s death,
deprived of both its chief pastors--and a council in York minster at
which fifteen canons were passed[1744] to remedy the general relaxation
of Church discipline which had been growing ever since Thomas’s flight.
At the close of the year Hubert was again at York, upon a different
errand: the negotiation of a fresh treaty with Scotland, on the basis
of a marriage between the Scot king’s eldest daughter and Richard’s
nephew Otto of Saxony.[1745] The marriage never took place, but the
alliance of which it was to be the pledge lasted throughout Richard’s
reign; and it is a noteworthy proof at once of the growth of friendly
relations between the two countries, and of the success of Hubert’s
recent ordinance for the preservation of peace and order in England,
that in the following year a similar edict, evidently modelled upon the
English one, was issued in Scotland by William the Lion.[1746]
[1744] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 293–298. Cf. R.
Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 146–148, and Will. Newb., l. v.
c. 12 (Howlett, vol. ii. p. 442).
[1745] William the Lion had been sick almost to death, and
having no son, had proposed to leave his crown to his eldest
daughter, under the protection of Richard, whose nephew he
wished her to marry. The opposition of his barons, and the
restoration of his own health, caused him to drop the scheme of
bequest (Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 298, 299). That of
the marriage however was still pursued, and accepted by Hubert
in Richard’s name, on somewhat singular conditions: Lothian, as
the bride’s dowry, was to be given over to Richard’s custody,
while Northumberland and the county of Carlisle were to be
settled upon Otto and made over to the keeping of the king of
Scots. The negotiation, however, dragged on for a year, and
was again checked by the hope of an heir to the Scottish crown
(_ib._ p. 308); and the fulfilment of this hope in August 1198
led to its abandonment. _Ib._ vol. iv. p. 54.
[1746] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 33. He says William
issued his proclamation “de bono sumens exemplum.”
Neither the renewal of order in the Church, nor the securing
of the external tranquillity of the realm by alliance with its
neighbour-states, nor the organization of justice and police within
its own borders, was however the most laborious part of Hubert’s task.
One thing only was required of him by his royal master; but that was
precisely the one thing which cost him the most trouble to obtain.
From a country which must, as it seems, have been almost drained of
its financial resources over and over again during the last ten years,
he was perpetually called upon to extract supplies of money such as
had never been furnished before to any English king. That he contrived
to meet Richard’s ceaseless demands year after year without either
plunging the nation into helpless misery or provoking it to open
revolt, is the strongest proof not only of his financial genius and
tact, but also of the increase in material prosperity and national
contentment which had been fostered by Henry’s rule, and of the success
of Hubert’s own efforts in carrying out the policy which Henry had
begun. By Michaelmas 1194 it seems that the whole of the complicated
accounts for the ransom, including the carucage imposed in the
spring, were closed.[1747] In the same year the country had borne the
additional burthen of a tallage upon the towns. This, however, added
to the sums raised by sales of office during the king’s visit and to
the proceeds of the judges’ visitation, failed to satisfy the wants of
Richard. He therefore resorted to two other methods of raising money,
both apparently of his own devising, and both harmonizing very ill with
the constitutional policy of his justiciar. Save during the disorderly
reign of Stephen, the practice of tournaments had been hitherto
unknown in England. Both Henry I. and Henry II. were too serious and
practical-minded to encourage vain shews of any kind, far less to
countenance the reckless waste of energy and the useless risk of life
and limb which these entertainments involved, which had moved Pope
after Pope to denounce them as perilous alike to body and soul,[1748]
and, in spite of a characteristic protest from Thomas Becket, to
exclude those who were slain in them from the privileges of Christian
burial.[1749] The Church had indeed been unable to check this obnoxious
practice in Gaul; backed, however, by the authority of the Crown, she
had as yet succeeded in keeping it out of England. But in 1194 a fresh
prohibition, issued by Pope Celestine in the previous year,[1750] was
met by Richard with a direct defiance. On August 20 he issued a license
for the holding of tournaments in England, on condition that every man
who took part in them should pay to the Crown a specified sum, varying
according to his rank. Five places were appointed where tournaments
might be held, and no one was allowed to enter the lists until he
had paid for his license.[1751] The collection of this new item of
revenue was evidently looked upon as an important matter, for it was
intrusted to the justiciar’s brother Theobald Walter.[1752] Whatever
may have been Hubert’s share in this measure, he was clearly in no way
responsible for the other and yet more desperate expedient to which
Richard, almost at the same time, resorted for the replenishment of his
treasury. On pretext of a quarrel with his chancellor, he took away the
seal from him, ordered another to be made, and declared all acts passed
under the old one to be null and void, till they should have been
brought to him for confirmation:[1753] in other words, till they should
have been paid for a second time.
[1747] See Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iv. pref. pp.
lxxxii–lxxxiv and notes.
[1748] Will. Newb., l. v. c. 4 (Howlett, vol. ii. pp. 422, 423).
[1749] Ep. xxiv., Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. p. 36.
[1750] Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 56.
[1751] Writ in Rymer, as above, p. 65, and in Stubbs, _R.
Diceto_, vol. ii., app. to pref. pp. lxxx, lxxxi; this latter
copy is dated August 22. Cf. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p.
268, Will. Newb., l. v. c. 4 (Howlett, vol. ii. pp. 422, 423),
and R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 120.
[1752] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 268.
[1753] _Ib._ p. 267. Cf. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 93. Rog.
Howden’s very confused account of the seals is made clear by
Bishop Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. p. 506 note.
In the following spring a fit of characteristic Angevin
penitence--fervent and absorbing while it lasted, but passing away all
too soon--moved the king to make some amends for his extortions as well
as for his other sins; he began to replace the church-plate which had
been given up for his ransom;[1754] no fresh tax was imposed till late
in the year, and then it was only a scutage of the usual amount--twenty
shillings on the knight’s fee--for the war in Normandy.[1755] Next
year, however, the king’s mood again changed. He was now resolved to
carry into effect, with or without Hubert’s assent, the inquiry into
the financial administration which Hubert had postponed in 1194. For
this purpose he sent over to England Robert, abbot of S. Stephen’s at
Caen, who, notwithstanding his monastic profession, had acquired great
experience as a clerk of the Norman exchequer, and seems to have there
enjoyed a high reputation for knowledge and skill in all matters of
finance.[1756] The abbot, accompanied by the bishop-elect of Durham,
Philip of Poitiers,[1757] reached London in Lent 1196, and demanded
Hubert’s co-operation in fulfilling the royal orders. The justiciar,
though displeased and hurt, had no choice but to comply, and an order
was issued in the king’s name bidding all sheriffs and officers of the
Crown be ready to give an account of their stewardship in London on
a certain day--apparently the day of the usual Exchequer-meeting in
Easter-week.[1758] Before Easter came, the abbot of Caen himself was
gone to his last account; he was seized with illness while dining with
Archbishop Hubert on Passion Sunday, and five days later he died.[1759]
The intended inquisition never took place; but the mere proposal to
conduct it thus through the medium of a stranger from over sea was
a direct slight offered to the justiciar by the king;[1760] and it
coincided with a disturbance which warned Hubert of a possible danger
to his authority from another quarter.
[1754] Rog. Howden as above, p. 290. Cf. _Itin. Reg. Ric._
(Stubbs), pp. 449, 450.
[1755] See Madox, _Hist. Exch._, vol. i. pp. 637, 638. That it
was imposed late in the year seems implied by so much of it not
being accounted for till the next year; see Stubbs, pref. to
Rog. Howden, vol. iv. p. lxxxviii and note 3.
[1756] Will. Newb., l. v. c. 19 (Howlett, vol. ii. p. 464). Cf.
Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 5.
[1757] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 5. He seems to imply
that Philip shared in the abbot’s commission; but he evidently
made no attempt to act upon it after Robert’s death.
[1758] Will. Newb., l. v. c. 19 (Howlett, vol. ii. p. 465).
[1759] Rog. Howden as above. “Nec cum eis quos evocaverat post
Pascha positurus, sed ante Pascha rationem superno Judici de
propriis actibus redditurus.” Will. Newb. as above.
[1760] On April 15, four days after the abbot’s death, Richard
wrote a sort of apology to the justiciar. See Stubbs, _R.
Diceto_, vol. ii. app. to pref. pp. lxxix, lxxx.
Strive as he might to equalize the burthens of taxation, he could
not prevent them from pressing upon the poorer classes with a
severity which grew at last well-nigh intolerable. The grievance was
felt most keenly in London. The substitution of the “commune” for
the older shire-organization of London in 1191 was a step towards
municipal unity, and thus indirectly towards local independence and
self-government; but it had done nothing for the poorer class of
citizens. It had placed the entire control of civic administration,
including the regulation of trade and the assessment of taxes, in the
hands of a governing body consisting of a mayor and aldermen, one of
whom presided over each of the wards into which the whole city was
divided, the head of them all being the mayor.[1761] This corporation
was the representative of the merchant-gild, which had thus absorbed
into itself all the powers and privileges of the earlier ruling
class of territorial magnates, in addition to its own. As might be
expected, the rule of this newly-established oligarchy over the mass
of its unenfranchized fellow-citizens was at least as oppressive as
that of the sheriffs and “barons of the city” which had preceded it;
and it was less willingly borne, owing to the jealousy which always
existed between the craftsmen and the merchant-gild. As the taxes
grew more burthensome year by year, a suspicion began to spread
that they were purposely assessed in such a manner as to spare the
well-filled pockets of the assessors, and wring an unfair proportion
of the required total from the hard-earned savings of the poor.[1762]
Whether the injustice was intentional or not, the grievance seems to
have been a real one; and it soon found a spokesman and a champion.
William Fitz-Osbert--“William with the Long Beard,” as he was commonly
called--was by birth a member of the ruling class in the city.[1763]
He seems to have shared with a goldsmith named Geoffrey the leadership
of a band of London citizens who in 1190 formed part of the crusading
fleet, and did good service, not indeed, so far as we know, in Holy
Land, but like their brethren forty-three years earlier, in helping
to drive the Moors out of Portugal.[1764] Since his return, whether
fired by genuine zeal for the cause of the oppressed, or, as some of
his contemporaries thought, moved by the hope of acquiring power and
influence which he found unattainable by other means,[1765] he had
severed himself from his natural associates in the city to become the
preacher and leader of another sort of crusade, for the deliverance
of the poorer classes from the tyranny of their wealthy rulers. At
every meeting of the governing body he withstood his fellow-aldermen
to the face, remonstrating continually against their corrupt fiscal
administration. They could not silence and dared not expel him,
for they knew that his whispers were stirring up the craftsmen;
and although the rumour that he had more than fifty thousand sworn
followers at his back must have been an exaggeration, yet there could
be no doubt of the existence of a conspiracy sufficiently formidable
to excuse, if not to justify, the terror of the civic rulers.[1766]
When after a visit to Normandy William began openly to boast of the
king’s favour and support, the justiciar thought it time to interfere.
He called the citizens together, endeavoured to allay their discontent
by reasonings and remonstrances, and persuaded them to give hostages
for their good behaviour.[1767] William however set his authority at
defiance. Day after day, in the streets and open spaces of the city,
and at last even in S. Paul’s itself,[1768] this bold preacher with the
tall stately form, singular aspect and eloquent tongue gathered round
him a crowd of eager listeners to whom he proclaimed himself as the
“king and saviour of the poor.” One of his audience afterwards reported
to a writer of the time his exposition of a text from Isaiah: “With joy
shall ye draw water out of the wells of the Saviour.”[1769] “I,” said
William, “am the saviour of the poor. Ye poor who have felt the heavy
hand of the rich, ye shall draw from my wells the water of wholesome
doctrine, and that with joy, for the time of your visitation is at
hand. For I will divide the waters from the waters. The people are the
waters; and I will divide the humble and faithful people from the proud
and perfidious people. I will divide the elect from the reprobate, as
light from darkness.”[1770]
[1761] In the _Liber de Antiquis Legibus_ (a chronicle of the
mayors and sheriffs of London, compiled in 1274, and edited
by Mr. Stapleton for the Camden Soc.), p. 1, the first mayor,
Henry Fitz-Aylwine, is said to have been appointed “anno gratie
Mº centesimo lxxxviii, anno primo regni Regis Ricardi;” and
the document known as Fitz-Aylwine’s Assize (_ib._ p. 206)
purports to have been issued “Anno Domini Mº Cº lxxxix,
scilicet primo anno regni illustris Regis Ricardi, existente
tunc Henrico filio Aylewini Maiore, qui fuit primus Maiorum
Londoniarum.” On this however Bishop Stubbs remarks: “It is
improbable that London had a recognized mayor before 1191,
in which year the communa was established ... and there is
I believe no mention of such an official in a record until
some three years later.” Introd. to _Annales Londonienses_
(“Chronicles of Ed. I. and Ed. II.”), p. xxxi.
[1762] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 5. Mat. Paris, _Chron.
Maj._ (Luard), vol. ii. p. 418. Will. Newb., l. v. c. 20
(Howlett, vol. ii. p. 466).
[1763] “Willelmus cum Barbâ,” Rog. Howden as above, pp. 5,
6; “agnomen habens a barbâ prolixâ,” Will. Newb. (as above);
“cognomento cum-Barbâ,” “dictus Barbatus vel Barba,” Mat.
Paris (as above), pp. 418, 419. Will. Newb. thinks he wore the
unusual appendage simply to make himself conspicuous; Mat.
Paris explains “cujus genus avitum ob indignationem Normannorum
radere barbam contempsit,” on which see Freeman, _Norm. Conq._,
vol. v. p. 900.
[1764] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), pp. 116–118.
[1765] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 5, 6, and Mat. Paris,
_Chron. Maj._ (Luard), vol. ii. pp. 418, 419, represent the
former view; Will. Newb., l. v. c. 20 (Howlett, vol. ii. pp.
467, 468), and R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 143, the latter.
[1766] Will. Newb. as above (p. 468).
[1767] _Ib._ (pp. 468, 469).
[1768] R. Diceto as above.
[1769] “Of salvation,” A. V.; “de fontibus Salvatoris,” Vulg.
Is. xii. 3.
[1770] Will. Newb., l. v. c. 20 (Howlett, vol. ii. p. 469).
Powerless to deal with these assemblies within the city, Hubert
determined at least to check the spread of such teaching as this,
and issued orders that any citizen of the lower class found outside
the walls should be arrested as an enemy to king and kingdom. Some
chapmen from London were accordingly arrested at Mid-Lent at Stamford
fair.[1771] A day or two afterwards--the justiciar’s fears being
perhaps quickened by the arrival of the abbot of Caen, which William
might easily interpret as the effect of his own remonstrances with the
king--an attempt was made to call William himself to account for his
seditious proceedings. The bearer of the summons found him surrounded
by such a formidable array of followers that he dared not execute
his commission, and a forcible arrest was decided on. Guided by two
citizens who undertook to catch him at unawares, a party of armed men
was sent to seize him;[1772] one of the guides was felled with a blow
of a hatchet by William himself, the other was slain by his friends;
William, with a few adherents, took sanctuary in the church of S.
Mary-at-Bow. The justiciar, after surrounding the church with soldiers,
ordered it to be set on fire,[1773] and William, driven out by the
smoke and the flames, was stabbed on the threshold by the son of the
man whom he had killed an hour before.[1774] The wound however was
not immediately fatal; the soldiers seized him and carried him to the
Tower for trial before the justiciars, who at once condemned him to
death; he was stripped, tied to a horse’s tail, thus dragged through
the city, and hanged with eight of his adherents.[1775] The rest of
the malcontents were so overawed by this spectacle that they at once
made complete submission.[1776] The justiciar had triumphed; but his
triumph was dearly bought at the cost of what little still remained
to him of personal popularity and ecclesiastical repute. The common
people persisted in reverencing William Longbeard as a martyr;[1777]
the clergy were horrified at the sacrilege involved in the violation
of the right of sanctuary and the firing of a church, a sacrilege all
the more unpardonable because committed by an archbishop; while his
own chapter seized upon it as the crowning charge in the already long
indictment which they were preparing against their primate.[1778]
Thus overwhelmed with obloquy on all sides, Hubert in disgust for a
moment threw up the justiciarship, but resumed it as soon as he was
once more assured of Richard’s confidence.[1779] For two more years
he toiled on at his thankless task. The budget of 1196 was made up
by the safe expedient of another scutage.[1780] Next year the sole
legislative act ventured upon by the justiciar was an attempt to
enforce uniformity of weights and measures throughout the kingdom by
means of an Assize,[1781] whose provisions however turned out to be
so impracticable that, like a similar ordinance issued earlier in the
reign, it seems to have remained inoperative, and six years later was
abolished altogether.[1782] In the autumn Hubert went over to Normandy,
where he was occupied for some weeks in diplomatic business for the
king.[1783] A month after his return the crisis came.
[1771] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 6.
[1772] Will. Newb. as above (p. 470).
[1773] _Ibid._ Rog. Howden as above; Mat. Paris, _Chron. Maj._
(Luard) vol. ii. p. 419. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 143,
makes William himself fire the church, but this seems nonsense,
as he clearly had no intention of dying in it.
[1774] Will. Newb. as above. Cf. Rog. Howden as above.
[1775] Will. Newb., l. v. c. 20 (Howlett, vol. ii. p. 471) says
nine. Eight is the number given by Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol.
iv. p. 6. Cf. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 143; Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 533, 534; and Mat. Paris, _Chron. Maj._
(Luard), vol. ii. p. 419. Gervase calls the place of execution
“ad ulmos,” Mat. Paris “ad Ulmetum” [“the Elms in Smithfield”
notes Mr. Luard in the margin]. R. Diceto calls it Tyburn;
the other writers give it no name at all. We are indebted
to Gervase (as above, p. 533) for the date of this affair;
Saturday, April 6--the day before the abbot of Caen fell sick;
see above, p. 344.
[1776] Rog. Howden and R. Diceto, as above.
[1777] See Will. Newb. as above, c. 21 (pp. 471, 472). Mat.
Paris (as above) heartily shared in their opinion.
[1778] Rog. Howden as above, p. 48.
[1779] _Ib._ pp. 12, 13.
[1780] Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iv. pref. p. lxxxviii and
note 3. Madox, _Hist. Exch._, vol. i. pp. 637, 638.
[1781] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 33, 34.
[1782] _Ib._ p. 172. Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. p. 509.
[1783] R. Diceto as above, p. 158. Gerv. Cant. as above, pp.
544, 545. The dates do not exactly agree.
Richard, at the height of his struggle with Philip of France, found
himself short not only of money but of men,[1784] at any rate of men
whom he could trust. He called upon Hubert to send him over from
England either a force of three hundred knights to serve him at their
own charges for a year, or a sum which would enable him to enlist the
same number of mercenaries for the same period, at the rate of three
English shillings a day.[1785] For some reason or other it seems
that Hubert, somewhat unwisely, at once decided to ignore the second
alternative; in a great council held at Oxford on December 7[1786] he
simply proposed, in his own name and that of his colleagues in the
government, that the barons of England, among whom the bishops were to
be reckoned, should come to the rescue of their distressed sovereign by
supplying him with three hundred knights to serve him at their own cost
for a year. Hubert himself, in his character of archbishop, declared
his readiness to take his share of the burthen; so did the bishop of
London, Richard Fitz-Nigel the treasurer. The bishop of Lincoln, Hugh
of Avalon, was then asked for his assent. “O ye wise and noble men here
present,” said the Burgundian saint, “ye know that I came to this land
as a stranger, and from the simplicity of a hermit’s life was raised
to the office of a bishop. When therefore my inexperience was called
to rule over the church of our Lady, I set myself carefully to learn
its customs and privileges, its duties and burthens; and for thirteen
years I have not strayed from the path marked out by my predecessors,
in preserving the one and fulfilling the other. I know that the church
of Lincoln is bound to do the king military service, but only in this
land; outside the boundaries of England she owes him no such thing.
Wherefore I deem it meeter for me to go back to my native land and my
hermit’s cell, rather than, while holding a bishopric here, to bring
upon my church the loss of her ancient immunities and the infliction of
unwonted burthens.”[1787]
[1784] _Magna Vita S. Hugonis_ (Dimock), p. 248.
[1785] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 40.
[1786] Cf. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 549, and _Mag. Vita
S. Hug._ (Dimock), p. 251.
[1787] _Mag. Vita S. Hug._ (Dimock), pp. 249, 250.
Hugh of Lincoln was the universally-acknowledged leader of the English
Church in all matters of religion and morals; he had exercised in Henry
II.’s later years such an influence over the king as no one, except
perhaps Thomas Becket, had ever possessed; the whole Church and nation
reverenced him as it had never reverenced any man since the death of S.
Anselm. When he took up the position of Thomas and Anselm as a champion
of constitutional liberty, the victory was sure. Strangely enough, his
action seems to have taken the primate completely by surprise. For a
moment Hubert stood speechless; then he turned to Bishop Herbert of
Salisbury, and with quivering lips asked what he was minded to do for
the king’s assistance. As a son of Richard of Ilchester and a kinsman
of the great ministerial house founded by Roger of Salisbury,[1788]
Herbert represented the traditions of an old and venerated political
school, as Hugh represented those of the best school of ecclesiastics.
The statesman’s reply was an echo of the saint’s: “It seems to me that,
without grievous wrong to my church, I can neither do nor say aught but
what I have heard from my lord of Lincoln.” The justiciar, hurling a
torrent of reproaches at Hugh, broke up the assembly, and wrote to the
king that his plan had been foiled through Hugh’s opposition.[1789]
Richard in a fury ordered the property of the two recalcitrant bishops
to be confiscated; in the case of Salisbury this was done, but no
Englishman dared lay a finger on anything belonging to the saint of
Lincoln, “for they feared his curse like death itself.” In vain did
the king reiterate his command, till at last his own officers begged
Hugh to put an end to the scandal by making his peace, for their sakes
if not for his own; Hugh therefore went to seek Richard in Normandy,
and literally forced him into a reconciliation on S. Augustine’s day.
Herbert, on the other hand, had to purchase his restoration at a
heavy price;[1790] but the king and his justiciar were none the less
completely beaten. The death of Rees Ap-Griffith and a dispute between
his sons for the succession in South Wales gave Hubert an opportunity
of renewing his fading laurels by a brilliant expedition to the Welsh
marches, where he succeeded in restoring tranquillity and securing
the border-fortresses for the king.[1791] He had however scarcely had
time to recover from his political defeat before he was overwhelmed by
the bursting of an ecclesiastical storm which had long been hanging
over his head. Pope Celestine died on January 8, 1198. On the morrow
the cardinals elected as his successor a young deacon named Lothar,
who took the name of Innocent III., and began at once to sweep away
the abuses of the Roman court and to vindicate the rights of his see
against the Roman aristocracy with a promptness and vigour which were
an earnest of his whole future career.[1792] The monks of Canterbury
lost no time in sending to the new Pope their list of grievances
against their primate; and at the head of the list they set a charge
which, in the eyes of such a pontiff as Innocent, could admit of no
defence. Hubert, said they, had violated the duties and the dignity
of his order by becoming the king’s justiciar, acting as a judge in
cases of life and death, and so entangling himself in worldly business
that he was incapable of paying due attention to the government of
the Church. Innocent immediately wrote to the king, charging him, if
he valued his soul’s health, not to suffer either the archbishop of
Canterbury or any other priest to continue in any secular office;
and at the same time he solemnly forbade the acceptance of any such
office by any bishop or priest throughout the whole Church. Discredited
as Hubert now was in the eyes of all parties, he had no choice but
to resign, and this time Richard had no choice but to accept his
resignation.[1793]
[1788] On Herbert’s antecedents and connexions see Stubbs,
_Rog. Howden_, vol. iv. pref. p. xci, note 4.
[1789] _Mag. Vita S. Hug._ (Dimock), p. 250. Cf. the brief
account in Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 40.
[1790] _Mag. Vita S. Hug._ (Dimock), p. 251.
[1791] On Rees’s death his two sons quarrelled over the
succession, and Hubert had to go to the “fines Gwalliæ” and
make peace between them. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p.
21. At Christmas he was at Hereford, where he took the castle
into his own hands, turning out its custodians and putting in
new ones, “ad opus regis”; he did the same at Bridgenorth and
Ludlow. _Ib._ p. 35. See also Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p.
543, Gerald’s letter to Hubert after his victory, and Hubert’s
reply: Gir. Cambr. _De Rebus a se gestis_, l. iii. cc. 5, 6
(Brewer, vol. i. pp. 96–102).
[1792] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 41–44.
[1793] _Ib._ pp. 47, 48.
The last few months of his justiciarship were however occupied with the
projection, if not the execution, of a measure of great constitutional
importance. Early in the spring he had, in his master’s name, laid upon
England a carucage to the amount of five shillings upon every carucate
or ploughland. The great increase in the rate of taxation, as compared
with that of 1194, was not unjustifiable; for since that year the
socage-tenants, on whom the impost fell, had paid no direct taxes at
all, while two scutages had been exacted from the tenants-in-chivalry.
But a far more important change was made in the assessment of the new
impost. Until now, the carucate, like the hide, had been a term of
elastic significance. It represented, as the literal meaning of the
word implied, the extent of land which could be cultivated by a single
plough; and this of course varied in different parts of the country
according to the nature of the soil, and the number and strength of
the plough-team. In general, however, a hundred acres seem to have
been reckoned as the average extent both of the carucate and of the
hide. In order to avoid the endless complications and disputes which
under the old system had made the assessment of the land-tax a matter
of almost more trouble than profit, Hubert Walter adopted this average
as a fixed standard, and ordered that henceforth, for purposes of
taxation, the word “carucate” should represent a hundred acres. It
followed as a necessary consequence that the whole arable land of
England must be re-measured. The old customary reckoning of hides,
based upon the Domesday survey, would no longer answer its purpose:
the venerable rate-book which had been in use for more than a hundred
years, partially superseded since 1168 by the Black Book of the
Exchequer, was now to be superseded entirely. Hubert therefore issued
in the king’s name a commission for what was virtually a new Domesday
survey. Into every shire he sent a clerk and a knight, who, together
with the sheriff and certain lawful men chosen out of the shire, were,
after swearing that they would do the king’s business faithfully, to
summon before them the stewards of the barons of the county, the lord
or bailiff of every township and the reeve and four lawful men of the
same, whether free or villein, and two lawful knights of the hundred;
these persons were to declare upon oath what ploughlands there were in
every township--how many in demesne, how many in villenage, how many
in alms, and who was responsible for these last. The carucates thus
ascertained were noted in a roll of which four copies were kept, one
by each of the two royal commissioners, one by the sheriff, and the
other divided among the stewards of the local barons. The collection
of the money was intrusted to two lawful knights and the bailiff of
every hundred; these were responsible for it to the sheriff; and the
sheriff had to see that it agreed with his roll, and to pay it into
the Exchequer. Stern penalties were denounced against witnesses,
whether free or villein, who should be detected in trying to deceive
the commissioners. No land was to be exempted from the tax, except the
free estates belonging to the parish churches, and lands held of the
king by serjeanty or special service; even these last, however, were
to be included in the survey, and their holders were required to come
and prove their excuses at its conclusion, in London at the octave of
Pentecost.[1794]
[1794] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 46, 47.
This was Hubert’s last great administrative act, and it had a far
more important significance than he himself probably knew. In form,
the application of the process of jury-inquest to the assessment of
an impost on the land was only a return to the precedent of Domesday
itself. In reality, however, it was something much more important
than this. The jury-inquest had been introduced by the Conqueror in
1086 under exceptional circumstances, and for an exceptional purpose
which could be attained by no other means. So far as its original
use was concerned, the precedent had remained a wholly isolated one
for more than a hundred years. But during those years the principle
which lay at the root of the jury-inquest had made its way into every
branch of legal, fiscal and judicial administration. It had been
applied to the purposes of private litigation by the Great Assize,
to the determination of individual liability to military duty by the
Assize of Arms, to the assessment of taxation on personal property
by the ordinance of the Saladin tithe; it had penetrated the whole
system of criminal procedure through the Assizes of Clarendon and
Northampton; and it had gained a yet fuller recognition in the
judicial ordinances of 1194. Viewed in this light, its application
to the assessment of taxation on real property was another highly
important step in the extension of its sphere of work. But this was
not all. The chief value of the jury-system lay in its employment
of the machinery of local representation and election, whereby it
was a means of training the people to the exercise of constitutional
self-government. The commission of 1198 shews that, although doubtless
neither rulers nor people were conscious of the fact, this training
had now advanced within measurable distance of its completion. The
machinery of the new survey was not identical with that used in 1086.
The taxpayers were represented, not only by the witnesses on whose
recognition the assessment was based, but by the “lawful men chosen
out of the shire” who took their place side by side with the king’s
officers as commissioners for the assessment, and by the bailiff and
two knights of the hundred who were charged with the collection of
the money. The representative principle had now reached its furthest
developement in the financial administration of the shire. Its next
advance must inevitably result in giving to the taxpayers a share in
the determination, first of the amount of the impost, and then of the
purposes to which it should be applied, by admitting them, however
partially and indirectly, to a voice in the great council of the
nation.[1795]
[1795] On this “Great Carucage” see Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._,
vol. i. pp. 510, 511, and pref. to Rog. Howden, vol. iv. pp.
xci–xcv.
We must not credit Hubert Walter with views so lofty or so far-reaching
as these. The chief aim of his policy doubtless was to get for his
master as much money as he could, although he would only do it by
what he regarded as just and constitutional methods. Unluckily the
commissioners’ report is lost, and there is not even any proof that
it was ever presented; for before Whitsuntide the new Pope’s views
had become known, and on July 11 a royal writ announced Hubert’s
retirement from the justiciarship and the appointment of Geoffrey
Fitz-Peter in his stead.[1796] Like Hubert, Geoffrey Fitz-Peter came
of a family which had long been engaged in administrative work. His
elder brother Simon had in Henry’s early years filled the various
offices of sheriff, justice-in-eyre, and king’s marshal.[1797] Geoffrey
himself had been sheriff of Northampton throughout the last five years
of Henry’s reign, and had during the same period acted occasionally
as an ordinary justice of assize, and more frequently as a judge of
the forest-court.[1798] In 1189 Richard appointed him one of the
assistant-justiciars, and in this capacity he supported Walter of Rouen
in the affair of William of Longchamp’s deposition.[1799] In the early
days of William’s rule, however, Geoffrey had made use of the latter’s
influence to secure for himself the whole English inheritance of the
earl of Essex, William de Mandeville, upon which his wife had a distant
claim.[1800] Such a man was likely to be controlled by fewer scruples,
as well as hampered by fewer external restraints, than those which had
beset the justiciar-archbishop; and in truth, before the year was out,
both clergy and people had cause to regret the change of ministers.
Some of the religious orders refused to pay their share of the
carucage; their refusal was met by a royal edict declaring the whole
body of clergy, secular as well as monastic, incapable of claiming
redress for any wrongs inflicted on them by the laity, while for any
injury done by a clerk or a monk to a layman satisfaction was exacted
to the uttermost farthing. The archbishop of Canterbury could hardly
have published what was virtually a decree of outlawry against his own
order; the new justiciar published it seemingly without hesitation,
and the recalcitrant monks were compelled to submit.[1801] This act
was followed by a renewal of the decree requiring all charters granted
under the king’s old seal to be brought up for confirmation under
the new one[1802]--a step which seems to imply that Richard’s former
command to this effect had not been very strictly enforced by Hubert.
Meanwhile three justices-errant, acting on a set of instructions
modelled upon those of 1194, were holding pleas of the Crown in the
northern shires;[1803] “so that,” says King Henry’s old chaplain Roger
of Howden, “with these and other vexations, just or unjust, all England
from sea to sea was reduced to penury. And these things were not yet
ended when another kind of torment was added to confound the men of
the kingdom, through the justices of the forest,” who were sent out
all over England to hold a great forest-assize, which was virtually a
renewal of that issued by Henry in 1184.[1804]
[1796] Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 71.
[1797] He was sheriff of Northamptonshire, Bedfordshire and
Buckinghamshire from 1156 till 1160, and of Northamptonshire
again from Michaelmas 1163 till Easter 1170. See the list of
sheriffs in index to Eyton’s _Itin. Hen. II._, pp. 337, 339. He
appears as marshal in 1165 (Madox, _Form. Angl._, p. xix), and
as justice-errant in Bedfordshire, A.D. 1163, in the story of
Philip de Broi (above, p. 21).
[1798] Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, list of sheriffs, p. 339; _ib._
pp. 265, 273, 281, 291, 298. Pipe Roll I. Ric. I. (Hunter)
_passim_.
[1799] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 16, 28, 96, 153.
[1800] Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iii., pref. p. xlviii, note
6.
[1801] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 66.
[1802] _Ibid._ Mat. Paris, _Chron. Maj._ (Luard), vol. ii. p.
451. Ann. Waverl. a. 1198 (Luard, _Ann. Monast._, vol. ii. p.
251).
[1803] Instructions in Rog. Howden (as above), pp. 61, 62. The
judges were Hugh Bardulf, Roger Arundel and Geoffrey Hacket;
they held pleas in Lincolnshire, Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire,
Yorkshire, Northumberland, Westmoreland, Cumberland and
Lancashire.
[1804] Rog. Howden (as above), pp. 62–66.
Stern and cruel, however, as was the administration of the last eight
months of Richard’s reign, it was still part of a salutary discipline.
The milder chastenings which Richard’s English subjects had endured
from Hubert Walter, the scorpion-lashes with which he chastised them
by the hands of Geoffrey Fitz-Peter, were both alike stages in the
training which Richard’s predecessor had begun, and whose value they
were to learn when left face to face with the personal tyranny of his
successor. For nearer at hand than they could dream was the day when
English people and Angevin king were to stand face to face indeed,
more closely than they had ever stood before. The nine generations of
increasing prosperity promised to Fulk the Good were all numbered and
fulfilled, and with their fulfilment had come the turn of the tide.
The power of the Angevins had reached its destined limit, and had
begun to recede again. From the sacred eastern land all trace of it was
already swept away; in the west it was, slowly indeed as yet, but none
the less surely falling back. Five years were still to pass before the
tide should be fairly out; then it was to leave the Good Count’s heir
stranded, not on the black rock of Angers, but on the white cliffs of
England.
Richard had spent the first half of his reign in fighting for a lost
cause in Palestine; he spent the other half in fighting for a losing
cause in Gaul. The final result of the long series of conquests
and annexations whereby the Angevin counts, from Fulk the Red to
Henry Fitz-Empress, had been enlarging their borders for more than
two hundred years, had been to bring them into direct geographical
contact and political antagonism with an enemy more formidable than
any whom they had yet encountered. In their earliest days the king
of the French had been their patron; a little later, he had become
their tool. Now, he was their sole remaining rival; and ere long he
was to be their conqueror. Since the opening of the century, a great
change had taken place in the political position of the French Crown;
a change which was in a considerable measure due to the yet greater
change in the position of the Angevin house. When Louis VI. came to the
throne in 1109, he found the so-called “kingdom of France” distributed
somewhat as follows. The western half, from the river Somme to the
Pyrenees, was divided between four great fiefs--Normandy, Britanny,
Anjou and Aquitaine. Four others--Champagne, Burgundy, Auvergne and
Toulouse--covered its eastern portion from the river Meuse to the
Mediterranean Sea; another, Flanders, occupied its northernmost angle,
between the sources of the Meuse, the mouth of the Scheld, and the
English Channel. The two lines of great fiefs were separated by an
irregular group of smaller territories, amid which lay, distributed in
two very unequal portions, the royal domain. Its northern and larger
half, severed from Flanders by the little counties of Amiens and
Vermandois, was flanked on the east by Champagne and on the north-west
by Normandy, while its south-western border was ringed in by the
counties of Chartres, Blois and Sancerre, which parted it from Anjou,
and which were all linked together with Champagne under the same ruling
house. Southward, in the upper valleys of the Loire and the Cher, a
much smaller fragment of royal domain, comprising the viscounty of
Bourges and the territory afterwards known as the Bourbonnais, lay
crowded in between Auvergne, the Aquitanian district of Berry, and the
Burgundian counties of Mâcon and Nevers and that of Sancerre, which
parted it from the larger royal possessions north of the Loire. The
whole domains of the Crown thus covered scarcely more ground than the
united counties of Anjou, Touraine and Maine, scarcely so much as the
duchy of Normandy. Within these limits, however, Louis VI. had in his
twenty-nine years’ reign contrived to establish his absolute authority
on so firm a basis that from thenceforth the independence of the Crown
was secured. To destroy that of the great feudataries, and to bring
them one by one into a subjection as absolute as that of the royal
domain itself, was the work which he bequeathed to his successors.
[Illustration: Map VII.
FRANCE AND THE ANGEVIN DOMINIONS.
To illustrate the wars of Richard and John with Philip Augustus.
Key: _Royal Domain of Philip. A. D. 1194._
Wagner & Debes’ Geogˡ. Estabᵗ. Leipsic. London, Macmillan & Co.
]
We may set aside the temporary annexation of Aquitaine through the
marriage of Louis VII. and Eleanor as forming no part of this process
of absorption. In the plans of Louis VI. it was doubtless meant to be a
very important part; but as a matter of fact, its historical importance
proved to be of a wholly different kind. The marriage of Louis and
Eleanor contributed to the final acquisition of Guienne and Gascony
by the French Crown not a whit more than the marriage of Geoffrey
Martel and Agnes had contributed to their acquisition by the house of
Anjou. The Parisian king, like his Angevin follower of old, had work
to do on his own side of the Loire before he might safely attempt
the conquest of the south. By the middle of the century, the map of
Gaul had undergone a marked transformation. Its eastern and central
portions indeed remained unchanged; but the western half was utterly
metamorphosed. Its four great divisions had been virtually swept away,
and the whole land had become Angevin. In face of this altered state
of things, the remaining powers of northern Gaul were of necessity
driven into union, as a counterpoise to this enormous growth of Anjou;
and the only possible centre of union, alike in a political and a
geographical point of view, was the king of the French. He alone could
claim to match in rank and dignity the crowned masters of the west;
and under his leadership alone was it possible to face them all along
the line from the mouth of the Somme to the source of the Cher with a
front as unbroken as their own. The old Angevin march had ceased to
be a marchland at all; its original character was now transferred to
the counties of Chartres and Blois; while to north and south of these,
from Nonancourt to Aumale and along the whole course of the Cher above
Vierzon, the royal domain itself was the sole bulwark of north-eastern
Gaul against the advancing power of Anjou. To secure Chartres and Blois
was the first necessity for the king: but their counts needed his
protection even more than he needed their fidelity, for the whole width
of his domains parted them from Champagne, where the bulk of their
strength lay. Accordingly Louis VII., by the matrimonial alliances
which he formed first for his daughters and lastly for himself with the
house of Blois and Champagne, easily succeeded in binding them to a
community of personal interests with the royal house of France, whereby
their subservience to the French Crown was for the future secured. The
chain was too strong to be broken by the boyish wilfulness of Philip
Augustus; and from the moment of his reconciliation with his mother and
uncles in 1180, the whole military and political strength of Blois,
Chartres and Champagne may be reckoned at his command as unreservedly
as that of his own immediate domains.
Since that time, the royal power had made an important advance to the
northward. At the opening of Philip’s reign the dominions of the count
of Flanders stretched from the Channel to the borders of Champagne,
covered the whole northern frontier of the royal domain, and touched
that of Normandy at its junction with Ponthieu. Twelve years later,
more than half this territory had passed, either by cession or by
conquest, into the hands of the king. Vermandois was given up to him
in 1186; and in 1191 the death of the Flemish count Philip made him
master of all Flanders south of the river Lys, which had been promised
to him as the dowry of his first queen, Elizabeth of Hainaut, niece
of the dead count and daughter of his successor.[1805] This was in
several respects a most valuable acquisition. Not only did it bring to
the Crown a considerable accession of territory, including the whole
upper valley of the Somme, the famous fortress of Péronne, and the
flourishing towns of Amiens and Arras; but the power of Flanders, which
a few years before had threatened to overshadow every other power in
northern Gaul, was completely broken; and the effect upon the political
position of Normandy was more important still. While Vermandois and
Amiens were in Flemish hands, a league between the Flemish count and
the ruler of Normandy would at any moment not only place the whole
north-western border of France at their mercy, but would enable them to
call in the forces of the imperial Crown to a junction which the French
king could have no power to hinder, and which must almost certainly
lead to his ruin. Now, on the other hand, such a junction was rendered
well-nigh impossible; the whole territory between Normandy, Ponthieu
and the German border was in the king’s own hands, and all that was
left of Flanders lay in almost complete isolation between the Lys and
the sea. In fine, as the dukes of Burgundy had for several generations
been obedient followers of their royal kinsmen, now that Blois,
Champagne and Vermandois were all secured, the power and influence of
the French Crown north of the Loire was fully a match in territorial
extent for that of the house of Anjou. South of the Loire the balance
was less equal. The extensive possessions of the house of S. Gilles may
indeed be left out of both scales; their homage for Toulouse was now
secured to the dukes of Aquitaine, but it was a mere formality which
left them practically still independent of both their rival overlords.
It was indeed at the expense of Toulouse that the Angevin rulers of
Poitou had made their last conquest, that of the Quercy. But since
then the French king, too, had been gaining territory in Aquitaine; and
his gains were made at the expense of the Poitevin duke. Richard had
found it needful to buy Philip’s assent to his peaceful entrance upon
his ancestral heritage after his father’s death by a renunciation of
all claims upon Auvergne and a cession of two important lordships in
Berry, Graçay and Issoudun.[1806] The sacrifice was trifling in itself,
but it was significant. It marked Richard’s own consciousness that a
turning-point had come in the career of his house. Hitherto they had
gone steadily forward; now it was time to draw back. The aggressive
attitude which had been habitual to the counts of Anjou for nearly
three hundred years must be dropped at last. Henceforth they were to
stand on the defensive in their turn against the advance of the French
Crown.
[1805] See above, p. 234, note 7{1115}.
[1806] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.) p.
29. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 75.
It was not the strength of that advance itself which made it so
formidable to Richard; it was the knowledge that, side by side with
the process of consolidation in France, there had been and still was
going on in the Angevin dominions a process of disintegration which
his father had been unable to check, and against which he himself
was well-nigh helpless. The French monarchy was built up around one
definite centre, a centre round which all the subordinate parts of the
structure grouped themselves unquestioningly as a matter of course.
Paris and its king, even when his practical authority was at the
lowest ebb, had always been in theory the accepted rallying-point of
the whole kingdom, the acknowledged head of the body politic, none of
whose members had ever dreamed of establishing any other in its place.
But the empire of Richard Cœur-de-Lion had no centre; or rather, it
had three or four rival ones. In Angevin eyes its centre was Angers;
in Norman eyes it was Rouen; to the men of the south, it was Poitiers.
Even Henry Fitz-Empress had felt at times the difficulty of fulfilling
two such opposite parts as those of duke of Normandy and count of
Anjou without rousing the jealous resentment of either country against
himself as the representative of the other; while as for Britanny
and Aquitaine, he had only been able to keep an uncertain hold over
them by sheer force, until Britanny was appeased by the marriage of
Constance, and Aquitaine subdued by the vigour of Richard. But for
Richard in his father’s place the difficulty was far greater. Chafe
as they might against the yoke which bound them together--dispute as
they might over their respective shares in their common ruler and their
respective claims upon him--neither Angevin nor Norman could fail to
recognize his own natural sovereign and national representative in
the son of Geoffrey and Matilda. But the chances of this recognition
being extended to the next generation expired with the young king.
If the two Henrys were strangers in Britanny and in Aquitaine, yet
on the banks of the Seine, the Loire and the Mayenne they were felt
to be at home. But Richard was at home nowhere, though he was master
everywhere, from the Solway to the Pyrenees. His Aquitanian subjects
for the most part, if they counted him as a fellow-countryman, counted
him none the less as an enemy; his subjects north of Loire counted him
as a southern stranger. Normans and Angevins still saw in him, as they
had been taught to see in him for the first twenty-six years of his
life, the representative not of Hrolf and William or of Fulk the Red
and Geoffrey Martel, but simply of his mother’s Poitevin ancestors.
The Bretons saw in him the son of their conqueror, asserting his
supremacy over them and their young native prince only by the right
of the stronger. As Suger had laid it down as an axiom, more than
half a century ago, that “Englishmen ought not to rule over Frenchmen
nor French over English,” so now we begin to discern growing up in
Richard’s continental dominions a feeling that Normans should not rule
over Angevins, nor Angevins over Normans, nor either over Bretons and
Poitevins, nor Poitevins over any of the rest; and that if one and all
must needs submit to the loss of their ancient independence, it would
be more natural and less humiliating to lay it down at the feet of the
prince who had always been acknowledged in theory as the superior of
all alike, the king of the French.
This feeling, however, had scarcely come into existence, much less
risen to the surface of politics, when Philip Augustus came home from
the Crusade at Christmas 1191. It is scarcely probable that any plan
of actual conquest had as yet taken shape in Philip’s mind. But the
very audacity of the demand which he made upon the credulity of the
Norman constables when in the following spring he asked them to believe
that Richard had ceded to him not only the whole Vexin, but also the
counties of Aumale and Eu--a cession for which there was not a shadow
of reason either in past history or in present circumstances, and which
if carried into effect would have cut off the Norman communications
with Ponthieu and Flanders, and given him at once a foothold upon
the Channel and an invaluable coign of vantage for an attempt upon
Rouen--seems to indicate that he was already forming some more definite
design against the Angevins’ power than the simple system of lying
in wait to steal from them any territorial or political advantage
that could be stolen with impunity, with which he, like his father,
had hitherto been content. The terms of his treaty with John in the
following year point still more strongly in the same direction. As the
price of John’s investiture with the rest of his brother’s dominions,
Philip reserved to himself the whole Norman territory on the right bank
of the Seine, except the city of Rouen; on the left bank, nearly half
the viscounty of Evreux, including the castles of Vaudreuil, Verneuil
and Ivry; and from the older Angevin patrimony, all that was most
worth having in Touraine--Tours itself, Azay, Montbazon, Montrichard,
Amboise and Loches--besides the transfer of the Angevin fiefs in
the Vendômois from the count of Anjou to the count of Blois.[1807]
Owing to the disorganized state of Richard’s dominions caused by his
captivity, Philip’s endeavours to carry this bargain into effect by
conquering Normandy in John’s interest and his own met for a while
with considerable success. His first attempt at invasion was indeed
repulsed by the Norman barons under the leadership of Earl Robert of
Leicester;[1808] but a few weeks later treason opened to him the gates
of Gisors and Neaufle; the rest of the Vexin was easily won,[1809] and
secured thus against attack in his rear, he marched northward to the
capture of Aumale and Eu.[1810] Thence he turned back to besiege Rouen,
but soon retreated again into his own territories,[1811] taking Pacy
and Ivry on his way.[1812] In July, finding that, according to his own
phrase, the Angevin demon was after all to be let loose upon him once
more, he thought it advisable to accept Richard’s overtures of peace;
and Richard on his part--being still in prison--deemed it wise for the
moment to sanction the French king’s recent conquests in Normandy and
the liberation of Ademar of Angoulême, and also to let Philip have
temporary possession of Loches, Châtillon-sur-Indre, Driencourt and
Arques, as pledges for the payment of twenty thousand marks, due within
two years of his own release.[1813]
[1807] Treaty in Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 57.
[1808] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 205.
[1809] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 206. Will. Newb., l.
iv. c. 34 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 389, 390). Rigord (Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 36. Will. Armor. _Gesta
Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 77.
[1810] Will. Newb. as above (p. 390).
[1811] _Ibid._ Rog. Howden, as above. Cf. Chron. Rothom., a.
1193 (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._, vol. i. p. 369).
[1812] Will. Newb. as above.
[1813] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 217–220. These were apparently
the twenty thousand marks promised in 1189 and not yet paid.
Whether he intended to keep or to break these engagements is
practically no matter; for, if he meant to break them, Philip took care
to anticipate him. Seven months after the treaty was signed he again
crossed the Norman border, took Evreux,[1814] which he handed over to
John’s custody,[1815] and marched up by way of Neubourg and Vaudreuil,
both of which he captured, to besiege Rouen. Thence, however, he again
retired--scared, it may be, by tidings of Richard’s approach--and
hurrying back to the southern border laid siege to Verneuil on May
10.[1816] Two days later Richard landed at Barfleur,[1817] and by the
end of another fortnight he was encamped at L’Aigle,[1818] within a
few miles of Verneuil. His presence there, coupled with the defection
of John who had contrived to join him on the road,[1819] and the
surprise and slaughter of the French garrison of Evreux by a body
of Norman troops,[1820] alarmed Philip so much that on Whitsun Eve,
May 28, he again fled into his own dominions.[1821] Richard was busy
strengthening the walls of Verneuil when tidings came to him that “the
Angevins and Cenomannians” were besieging Montmirail,[1822] a castle
on the borders of Perche and Maine, famous as the scene of a stormy
conference between Henry II. and S. Thomas. Who the besiegers actually
were, or what was the ground of their hostility either to William
of Montmirail[1823] or to his overlord King Richard, must remain
undecided. It is plain, however, that in Richard’s ears the tidings
sounded as a warning of disaffection in his patrimonial dominions.
He hurried to the relief of Montmirail, but found it levelled with
the ground.[1824] He wasted no time in pursuit of its destroyers, but
pushed on direct to Tours, took up his quarters in Châteauneuf,[1825]
and shewed his suspicions concerning the origin of the new mischief by
driving the canons of S. Martin out of the abbey where they dwelt under
the special protection of the French king.[1826] The burghers, on the
other hand, made proof of their loyalty by a free-will offering of two
thousand marks.[1827] Determined now to redeem his pledges to Philip
not with gold but with steel, Richard marched on to Beaulieu,[1828] to
join a body of Navarrese and Brabantines, sent by his brother-in-law
Sancho of Navarre, in blockading the castle of Loches;[1829] a few
days after his arrival, on June 13, it was surrendered by its French
garrison.[1830] He was however standing between two fires. Bertrand de
Born was again stirring up the south, singing and fighting ostensibly
in Richard’s interest against his disaffected neighbours in the
Limousin, but in reality kindling into a fresh blaze all the reckless
passions and endless feuds which had been smouldering too long for the
warrior-poet’s pleasure.[1831] Philip meanwhile was again threatening
Rouen;[1832] the Norman archbishop and seneschal attempted to negotiate
with him in Richard’s name, but without result;[1833] and at the end of
the month he marched southward to meet Richard himself. On July 4 the
two kings were within a few miles of each other--Richard at Vendôme,
Philip at Fréteval.[1834] What followed is told so diversely by the
English and French historians of the time that it seems impossible
to reconcile the rival accounts or to decide between them. All that
we know for certain is that Philip suddenly struck his tents and
withdrew into the territories of the count of Blois; that Richard set
off in pursuit, missed Philip himself, but fell at unawares upon the
troops who were convoying his baggage towards Blois, routed them, and
captured all the French king’s most precious possessions, including
his royal seal and the treasury-rolls of the whole kingdom, besides
a number of valuable horses, an immense quantity of money and plate,
and--what would be scarcely less useful to Richard for political
purposes--the charters of agreement between Philip and all the Norman,
Angevin and Poitevin rebels who had plotted treason with him and John
against their lord.[1835]
[1814] Will. Newb. as above, c. 40 (p. 403). Rigord (as above),
p. 37. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ as above; _Philipp._, l.
iv. (_ibid._) p. 143.
[1815] Will. Armor. _Philipp._ as above.
[1816] Rigord as above. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ as
above. Cf. _Philipp._ as above; Rog. Howden (as above), pp.
251, 252; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 114, 115; and Will.
Newb., l. v. c. 2 (Howlett, vol. ii. p. 418). The date of the
siege of Verneuil comes from Rog. Howden.
[1817] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 251. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 114.
[1818] Will. Newb., l. v. c. 2 (Howlett, vol. ii. p. 418).
[1819] Rog. Howden (as above), p. 252. R. Diceto, as above,
says they met “apud Bruis.”
[1820] This is all that Rigord says about the disaster
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. p. 37). In the
hands of the poet William of Armorica it becomes a horrible
romance, wherein John, as commandant of Evreux, invites the
unsuspecting Frenchmen to a banquet, and then brings in his
“armed Englishmen” to massacre them (_Philipp._, l. iv.,
_ib._ p. 143; _Gesta Phil. Aug._, _ib._ p. 77). John has so
many undoubted crimes to answer for that it probably seemed
a mere trifle to add one more to the list, but for that very
reason one cannot admit it on the sole testimony of the
poet-historiographer. The English writers say nothing of the
whole matter.
[1821] Rog. Howden and Will. Newb. as above. R. Diceto (as
above), p. 115. Cf. Rigord and Will. Armor. as above.
[1822] “Andegavenses et Cenomannenses” says Rog. Howden as
above. R. Diceto (as above), p. 116, has “Andegavenses” only;
the Chron. S. Albin. a. 1192 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 49), has
“Andegavenses et alii.”
[1823] William “Gohet” as R. Diceto calls him; _i.e._ (see
Bishop Stubbs’s note, _ibid._), “William of Perche Gouet,
Goeth, or le petit Perche.”
[1824] Rog. Howden as above. R. Diceto as above, p. 117. Cf.
Chron. S. Albin. a. 1192 (as above).
[1825] R. Diceto as above.
[1826] Rigord (Duchesne), _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. p.
38.
[1827] “Dono spontaneo,” Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p.
252; “nullâ coactione præmissâ,” R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii.
p. 117. The “burgenses” in question, as appears from R. Diceto,
were those of Châteauneuf, not the _cives_ of Tours proper.
[1828] R. Diceto as above.
[1829] Rog. Howden (as above), pp. 252, 253.
[1830] _Ib._ p. 253 (with the date). R. Diceto as above. Cf.
Chron. S. Albin. a. 1192 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 49).
[1831] Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, pp. 83, 84.
[1832] Rog. Howden as above, p. 253. R. Diceto, p. 116.
[1833] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 253–255.
[1834] R. Diceto as above.
[1835] Cf. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 255, 256; R.
Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 117, 118; Will. Newb., l. v.
c. 2 (Howlett, vol. ii. p. 419); Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist.
Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 38; Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil.
Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 77; _Philipp._, l. iv. (_ibid._), p. 144;
and Chron. S. Albin. a. 1192 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 49).
Rog. Howden alone mentions the charters, and Will. Armor. the
treasury-rolls and seal.
The repairing of this disaster gave Philip sufficient occupation
for the rest of the year, and Richard was free to march upon the
Aquitanian rebels. Sancho of Navarre was already wasting the lands of
the ringleaders, Geoffrey of Rancogne and Ademar of Angoulême;[1836]
and by July 22 Richard was able to report to his justiciar in England
that he was master of all the castles of the Angoumois and all the
lands of Geoffrey.[1837] From Angoulême he marched northward again,
took measures for the security of Anjou and Maine,[1838] and then
returned to Normandy, where he found that his representatives, headed
by the chancellor, had just concluded a truce with the French king
to last till All Saints’ day[1839]--a proceeding which served him
as the pretext for that withdrawal of the seal from William and
repudiation of all engagements made under it, which has been mentioned
already.[1840] No further movement was however made by either party
until the spring. Then the wearisome story of fruitless negotiations
alternating with indecisive warfare begins again, and goes on
unceasingly for the next four years. Save for an occasional attempt to
make a diversion in Berry, the actual fighting between the two kings
was confined to the Norman border.[1841] Normandy was the chief object
of Philip’s attack, partly no doubt because, owing to its geographical
position, he could invade it with more ease and less risk than any
other part of Richard’s dominions, but also because it was the key
to all the rest. A French conquest of Normandy would sever Richard’s
communications not only with Flanders and Germany, but also with
England; and the strength of the Angevins in Gaul now rested chiefly
upon the support of their island-realm. Neither assailant nor defender,
however, was able to gain any decisive advantage in the field. The
armed struggle between them was in fact of less importance than the
diplomatic rivalry which they carried on side by side with it; and in
this, strangely enough, Richard, who had hitherto shewn so little of
the far-sighted statecraft and political tact of his race, proved more
than a match for his wily antagonist.
[1836] R. Diceto as above, p. 117. Will. Newb. as above.
[1837] Letter of Richard to Hubert Walter (date, Angoulême,
July 22) in Rog. Howden as above, pp. 256, 257. Cf. R. Diceto
as above, pp. 118, 119. Will. Newb. as above (p. 420).
[1838] “Rediit in Andegaviam, et redemit omnes baillivos suos,
id est, ad redemptionem coegit. Similiter fecit in Cenomanniâ.”
Rog. Howden as above, p. 267. At Le Mans “convocavit magnates
omnes suæ jurisdictioni subpositos,” and apparently tried to
shame them into more active loyalty--or more liberal gifts--by
eulogy of their English brethren: “ubi fidem Anglorum in
adversitate suâ semper sibi gratiosam, integram et probabilem
plurimum commendavit.” R. Diceto as above, p. 119.
[1839] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 257–260. Cf. R. Diceto as
above, p. 120, and Will. Newb., l. v. c. 3 (as above). This
last gives a wrong date; that of the document in Rog. Howden is
July 23.
[1840] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 267. See above, p.
343.
[1841] It may be followed in Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii.
pp. 301–305, vol. iv. pp. 3–7, 14, 16, 19–21, 24, 54–61, 68,
78–81; Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), pp.
38–40, 42; Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), pp. 78,
79; _Philipp._, l. v. (_ib._), pp. 146–154.
That the foes in Richard’s own household should league themselves
against him with Philip, as he had done in earlier days against his
own father, was, so far as Richard himself is concerned, no more than
retributive justice. Philip’s alliance with John had proved a failure;
but it was not long before he saw a chance of securing a more useful
tool in the person of little Arthur of Britanny. English historians
tell us that when Richard and Philip made their treaty at Messina in
March 1191 Richard obtained a formal acknowledgement of his rights,
as duke of Normandy, to the overlordship of Britanny and the liege
homage of its duke.[1842] The text of the treaty of Messina, however,
contains not a word on this subject; the agreement, if made at all,
must have been drawn up in a separate form; and it seems to have
remained a dead letter, like another agreement made at the same place a
few months earlier--the treaty with Tancred whereby Richard had engaged
to recognize Arthur of Britanny as his successor in default of direct
heirs. Although after five years of marriage Queen Berengaria was
still childless, no such recognition had yet been made. Richard on his
return to Europe probably perceived that Arthur’s succession would be
impossible in England, and in Gaul would be fatal to the independence
of the Angevin house. Accordingly, he was once more doing all in
his power to win the attachment of John; and John, having at length
discovered that his own interests could be better served by supporting
his brother than by intriguing against him, proved an active and useful
ally in the war against Philip.[1843] On the other hand, Richard seems
never to have received Arthur’s homage for Britanny; and those who had
the control of political affairs in that country were determined that
he never should. The dispute between Henry and Philip for the wardship
of the two children of Geoffrey and Constance had apparently ended in
a compromise. Eleanor, the elder child, was now under the care of her
uncle Richard;[1844] but Constance seems to have succeeded in keeping
her infant boy out of the reach of both his would-be guardians, and,
moreover, in governing her duchy without any reference to either of
them, for nearly seven years after the death of her father-in-law King
Henry. She had been given in marriage by him, when scarcely twelve
months a widow, to Earl Ralf of Chester,[1845] son and successor of
Earl Hugh who had been one of the leaders in the revolt of 1173. As
the earls of Chester were hereditary viscounts of the Avranchin--the
border-district of Normandy and Britanny--this marriage would have
furnished an excellent means of securing the Norman hold upon the
Breton duchy, if only Ralf himself could have secured a hold upon his
wife. In this however he completely failed. Safe in her hereditary
dominions, with her boy at her side, and strong in the support of
her people rejoicing in their newly-regained independence, Constance
apparently set Ralf, Richard and Philip all alike at defiance, till in
1196 Richard summoned her to a conference with himself in Normandy,
and she set out to obey the summons. Scarcely had she touched the soil
of the Avranchin at Pontorson when she was caught by her husband and
imprisoned in his castle of S. James-de-Beuvron.[1846] It is hard not
to suspect that Richard and Ralf had plotted the capture between them;
for Richard, instead of insisting upon her release, at once renewed
his claim to the wardship of Arthur, and prepared to enforce it at
the sword’s point. The Bretons first hurried their young duke away to
the innermost fastnesses of their wild and desolate country under the
care of the bishop of Vannes,[1847] and then, after a vain attempt to
liberate his mother, intrusted him to the protection of the king of
France,[1848] who of course received him with open arms, and sent him
to be educated with his own son.[1849]
[1842] _Gesta Ric._ (Stubbs), p. 161. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),
vol. iii. pp. 99, 100.
[1843] See _e.g._ Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 5, 16, 60;
Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 38;
Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 77.
[1844] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 275, 278.
[1845] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 29.
[1846] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 7.
[1847] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. v. (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 149. Will. Newb., l. v. c. 18 (Howlett,
vol. ii. pp. 463, 464).
[1848] Rog. Howden as above.
[1849] Will. Armor. as above.
Philip had now got the old Angevin patrimony between two fires; but
the Bretons were so little accustomed to act in concert even among
themselves, far less with any other power, that he found it impossible
to make any real use of them as allies either for military or political
purposes. The independent warfare which they carried on with Richard
across the south-western border of Normandy[1850] had little effect
upon that which Richard and Philip were carrying on along its eastern
border; and upon the Angevin lands which lay directly between Britanny
and France the Breton revolt had no effect at all. To the end of
Richard’s life, we hear of no further troubles in Maine or Anjou.
Nay more, we hear of no further troubles in Aquitaine. If Philip
had in some sense turned Richard’s flank in the west, Richard had
turned Philip’s flank far more effectually in the south. The unwonted
tranquillity there may indeed have been partly due to the fact that
one of the chief sources of disturbance was removed in 1196 by the
withdrawal of Bertrand de Born into a monastery;[1851] but it was also
in great measure owing to Richard’s quickness in seizing an opportunity
which presented itself, in that same eventful year, of forming a
lasting alliance with the house of Toulouse. His old enemy Count
Raymond V. was dead;[1852] he now offered the hand of his own favourite
sister, the still young and handsome Queen Jane of Sicily, to the new
Count Raymond VI.;[1853] and thenceforth the eastern frontier of his
Aquitanian duchy was as secure under the protection of his sister’s
husband as its southern frontier under that of his wife’s brother, the
king of Navarre.
[1850] Will. Newb. as above, c. 30 (p. 491). Rog. Howden as
above.
[1851] Clédat, _Bert. de Born_, p. 92.
[1852] In 1194, according to Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 38.
[1853] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 13. Will. Newb., l. v.
c. 30 (Howlett, vol. ii. p. 491). R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p.
70.
Nor were Richard’s alliances confined within the boundaries of Gaul.
His year of captivity in Germany had not been all wasted time. When
he parted from his imperial jailor in the spring of 1194, they were,
at any rate in outward semblance, close political allies; and at the
same time Richard had succeeded in gaining over his bitterest foe,
Leopold of Austria, by an offer of his niece Eleanor of Britanny as
wife to Leopold’s son.[1854] The marriage-contract was however not
yet executed when the Austrian duke met with a fatal accident and
died in agony, owning with his last breath that his miserable end was
a just retribution for his conduct towards the English king.[1855]
The impression made by this event deepened the feeling of respect and
awe which the captive lion had already contrived to inspire in the
princes of the Empire. Meanwhile Henry VI. had made himself master
of Sicily;[1856] and now the old dream by which the German Emperors
never quite ceased to be haunted, the dream of re-asserting their
imperial supremacy over Gaul, was beginning to shape itself anew in
his brain. In the summer of 1195 he sent to Richard a golden crown
and a message charging him, on his plighted faith to the Emperor and
on the very lives of his hostages, to invade the French kingdom at
once, and promising him the support and co-operation of the imperial
forces. Richard, suspecting a trap, despatched William of Longchamp
to inquire into the exact nature, extent and security of Henry’s
promised assistance; Philip vainly tried to intercept the envoy as he
passed through the royal domains;[1857] and the negotiations proved
so far effectual that Henry remitted seventeen thousand marks out of
the ransom, as a contribution to Richard’s expenses in his struggle
with Philip.[1858] When, on Michaelmas Eve 1197, Henry VI. died,[1859]
the use of that homage on Richard’s part which his English subjects
had resented so bitterly was made apparent to them at last. While the
English king was holding his Christmas court at Rouen there came to him
an embassy from the princes of Germany, summoning him, as chief among
the lay members of the Empire[1860] by virtue of his investiture with
the kingdom of Arles, to take part with them in the election of a new
Emperor at Cöln on February 22.[1861] Richard himself could not venture
to leave Gaul; but the issue proved that his presence at Cöln was not
needed to secure his interests there. He wished that the imperial crown
should be given to his nephew Duke Henry of Saxony, eldest son and
successor of Henry the Lion. This scheme, however, when laid before the
other electors by the envoys whom he sent to represent him at Cöln,
was rejected on account of the duke’s absence in Holy Land.[1862] The
representatives of the English king then proposed Henry’s brother
Otto, for whom Richard had long been vainly endeavouring to find
satisfactory provision on either side of the sea,[1863] and who seems
really to have been his favourite nephew. The result was that, on the
appointed day, Otto was elected Emperor of the Romans,[1864] and on
July 12 he was crowned king of the Germans at Aachen by the archbishop
of Cöln.[1865]
[1854] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 273. See above, p.
325.
[1855] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 276, 277. R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. ii. p. 124. Will. Newb. as above, c. 8 (pp. 431–434). R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 65, 66.
[1856] In the autumn of 1194. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii.
pp. 268–270. Cf. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 123, 124.
[1857] Rog. Howden (as above), pp. 300, 301.
[1858] _Ib._ pp. 303, 304.
[1859] _Ib._ vol. iv. p. 31.
[1860] “Sicut præcipuum membrum imperii.” _Ib._ p. 37.
[1861] _Ibid._
[1862] _Ib._ pp. 37, 38.
[1863] He appointed him earl of York in 1190, but as the grant
was made after the king left England, some of the Yorkshire
folk doubted its genuineness, and Otto never succeeded in
obtaining possession. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 86.
The elaborate scheme for his endowment in the north, projected
in 1195, has already been mentioned (above, p. 341). This
having also failed, Richard in 1196 gave him the investiture
of Poitou. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 7; cf. _ib._ vol.
iii. p. 86, and R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 70.
[1864] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 37–39. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 163.
[1865] R. Diceto as above.
For a moment, at the mere prospect of beholding a grandson of Henry
Fitz-Empress seated upon the imperial throne of the west, there had
flashed across the mind of at least one friend of the Angevin house
a fancy that the world-wide dominion which seemed to be passing away
from the heirs of Fulk the Good was to be renewed for yet one more
generation.[1866] There was indeed an opposition party in Germany,
who set up a rival Emperor in the person of Philip of Suabia, a
brother of Henry VI.;[1867] and he at once made common cause with
his French namesake.[1868] This Suabian alliance, however, and the
support of the count of Ponthieu--purchased two years before with the
hand of the unhappy Adela, whom Richard had at last restored to her
brother[1869]--could not much avail Philip Augustus against such a
league as was now gathering around the English king. The vast sums
which Hubert Walter had been sending, year after year, to his royal
master over sea were bringing a goodly interest at last. Flanders,
Britanny, Champagne, had all been secretly detached from the French
alliance and bought over to the service of Richard;[1870] the Flemish
count had already drawn Philip into a war in which he narrowly escaped
being made prisoner;[1871] and in the summer of 1198, when the imperial
election was over, not only Baldwin of Flanders, Reginald of Boulogne,
Baldwin of Guines, Henry of Louvain, Everard of Brienne, Geoffrey of
Perche and Raymond of Toulouse, but even the young count Louis of
Blois and the boy-duke Arthur of Britanny himself, one and all leagued
themselves in an offensive and defensive alliance with Richard against
the French king.[1872] The immediate consequence was that Philip
begged Hubert Walter, who being just released from his justiciarship
had rejoined his sovereign in Normandy, to make peace for him with
Richard; and he even went so far as to offer the surrender of all
the Norman castles which he had won, except Gisors. Richard however
would listen to no terms in which his allies were not included.[1873]
At last, in November, a truce was made, to last till the usual term,
S. Hilary’s day.[1874] When it expired the two kings held a colloquy
on the Seine between Vernon and Les Andelys, Richard in a boat on
the river, Philip on horseback on the shore;[1875] this meeting was
followed by another, where, by the mediation of a cardinal-legate,
Peter of Capua, who had lately arrived in Gaul, they were persuaded to
prolong their truce for five years.[1876]
[Illustration: Plan VII.
LES ANDELYS AND CHATEAU-GAILLARD.
(From Deville, “Histoire du Château-Gaillard”)
Wagner & Debes’ Geogˡ. Estabᵗ. Leipsic. London, Macmillan & Co.
]
[1866] R. Diceto tells the story of the prophecy made to Fulk
the Good in two places; in the _Abbreviationes Historiarum_
(Stubbs, vol. i. p. 149) and in the _Opuscula_ (vol. ii. pp.
267, 268). In the latter place he adds: “Quod quondam probavit
regnum Jerosolimitanum; quod adhuc ostendit regnum Anglorum;
quod suo tempore declarabit Romanum imperium.” This, as Bishop
Stubbs notes, “looks like an anticipation of the election
of Otto IV. to the empire.... As Bishop Longchamp died in
1197, before which date we must suppose MS. R to have been
written” [the MS. from which the _Opuscula_ are printed, and
which begins with a dedication to William of Longchamp], “it
can scarcely be a prophecy after the event.” As William of
Longchamp died January 31, 1197 (R. Diceto, vol. ii. p. 150;
February 1 according to Gerv. Cant., Stubbs, vol. i. p. 543),
it seems indeed to shew that the possibility of one or other
of Richard’s nephews becoming Emperor at the next vacancy was
already in contemplation more than eight months before the
death of Henry VI. Or was Ralf dreaming rather of a transfer of
the imperial crown to Richard himself? for it is to be observed
that Otto can be included within the “nine generations” only
by excluding from them Fulk the Good himself; but this mode of
computing would fail if applied to the eastern branch of the
Angevin house, where it would give only eight generations, so
that we can hardly suppose it to have been adopted by Ralf.
According to R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 88, and Gerv. Cant.
as above, p. 545, a party among the electors actually did
choose Richard, and--much more strangely--another party chose
Philip of France.
[1867] Rog. Howden as above, p. 39.
[1868] Treaty in Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 70; date,
June 29 [1197].
[1869] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. p. 303. Rigord
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 38. Will.
Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._) p. 77.
[1870] Cf. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 19, R. Coggeshall
(Stevenson), p. 77, and Will. Newb., l. v. c. 32 (Howlett, vol.
ii. p. 495). Richard’s treaty with Flanders is in R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 152, 153, and Rymer, as above, pp. 67,
68; it has no date, but as R. Diceto (as above, p. 158) tells
us that it was drawn up by Hubert Walter, and also that Hubert
was in Gaul from September 14 (or 28, according to Gerv. Cant.,
Stubbs, vol. i. p. 574) to November 8 [1197], it must fall in
that interval.
[1871] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 20, 21. Will. Newb. as above.
R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 77, 78.
[1872] Rog. Howden as above, p. 54.
[1873] _Ib._ p. 61.
[1874] _Ib._ p. 68.
[1875] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 79, 80.
[1876] _Ib._ p. 80. Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._,
vol. v.), p. 42.
Yet all the while, there lurked in Richard’s heart a misgiving that,
in the last resort, his diplomacy would prove to have been in vain;
that, strive as he might to turn away the tide of war from his own
borders by stirring up north and east and south to overwhelm the Crown
of France, still, after all, the day must come when the Angevins would
have to stake their political existence solely upon their own military
resources, and to stand at bay, unaided, unsupported, alone, behind
whatever bulwark they might be able to devise by their own military
genius. It was the genius and the foresight of Richard himself which
insured that when the crisis came, the bulwark was ready, even though
it were doomed to prove unavailing in the end. The last and mightiest
of the many mighty fortresses reared by Angevin hands since the first
great builder of the race had begun his castle-building in the Loire
valley was the Château-Gaillard, the “saucy castle” of Richard the
Lion-heart. He “fixed its site where the Seine bends suddenly at
Gaillon in a great semicircle to the north, and where the valley of
Les Andelys breaks the line of the chalk cliffs along its banks. Blue
masses of woodland crown the distant hills; within the river curve
lies a dull reach of flat meadow, round which the Seine, broken with
green islets and dappled with the grey and blue of the sky, flashes
like a silver bow on its way to Rouen.”[1877] Some three-quarters of a
league from the right bank of the river, in a valley opening upon it
from the eastward and watered by the little stream of Gambon, stood
the town of Andely. Between the town and the river stretched a lake,
or rather perhaps a marsh,[1878] through which the Gambon and another
lesser rivulet descending from the hills to the north of Andely found
their way by two separate issues into the Seine, nearly opposite two
islets, of which the larger and more northerly was known as the Isle
of Andely.[1879] The space enclosed between the three rivers and the
marsh seems to have been a tract of waste land, occupied only by a
toll-house for the collection of dues from the vessels passing up and
down the Seine[1880]--dues which formed one of the most important items
in the revenue of the archbishop of Rouen, to whom Andely and its
neighbourhood belonged.[1881] Over against this spot, on the southern
bank of the Gambon, in the angle formed by its junction with the Seine,
a mass of limestone crag rose abruptly to the height of three hundred
feet. Its western side, almost perpendicular, looked down upon the
great river, the northern, scarcely less steep, over the Gambon and
the lake beyond; to the north-east and south-west its rocky slopes
died down into deep ravines, and only a narrow neck of land at its
south-eastern extremity connected it with the lofty plateau covered
with a dense woodland known as the Forest of Andely, which stretches
along the eastern side of the Seine valley between Andely and Gaillon.
One glance at the site was enough to rivet a soldier’s gaze. If,
instead of the metropolitan church of Normandy, a lay baron had owned
the soil of Andely, we may be sure that long ago that lofty brow would
have received its fitting crown; if the power of Fulk the Builder had
reached to the banks of the Seine, we may doubt whether the anathemas
of the Norman primate would not have availed as little to wrest such a
spot from his grasp as those of the archbishop of Tours had availed to
wrest from him the site of Montrichard. But a greater castle-builder
than Fulk Nerra himself was the architect of Château-Gaillard.
[1877] I copy Mr. Green’s picture, _Hist. of the English
People_, vol. i. p. 187.
[1878] Now dried up. See Deville, _Hist. du Château-Gaillard_,
pp. 27, 28.
[1879] “Est locus Andelii qui nunc habet insula nomen.” Will.
Armor. _Philipp._, l. vii. v. 29 (Deville, _Château-Gaillard_,
p. 126; Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. p. 169).
[1880] See a charter of Archbishop Malger (11th century) and
one of Pope Eugene III., a. 1148, quoted in Deville as above,
p. 26, note 2.
[1881] The archbishops seem to have looked upon Andely as
their most profitable territorial possession; Rotrou called it
his “unicum vivendi subsidium” (Rotr. Ep. xxiv., _Rer. Gall.
Scriptt._, vol. xvi. p. 632); Walter called it “patrimonium
ecclesiæ solum et unicum” (R. Diceto, Stubbs, vol. ii. p. 148).
Richard’s historical connexion with the “rock of Andely” has its
ill-omened beginning in a ghastly story of the fate of three French
prisoners whom he flung from its summit into the ravine below, in
vengeance for the slaughter of some Welsh auxiliaries who had been
surprised and cut to pieces by the French king’s troops in the
neighbouring valley.[1882] By the opening of 1196, however, he had
devised for it a more honourable use. In a treaty with Philip, drawn
up in January of that year, the fief of Andely was made the subject of
special provisions whereby it was reserved as a sort of neutral zone
between the territories of the two kings, and a significant clause was
added: “Andely shall not be fortified.”[1883] As by the same treaty the
older bulwarks of Normandy--Nonancourt, Ivry, Pacy, Vernon, Gaillon,
Neufmarché, Gisors--were resigned into Philip’s hands, this clause,
if strictly fulfilled, would have left the Seine without a barrier
and Rouen at the mercy of the French king. The agreement in short,
like all those which bore the signatures of Philip and Richard, was
made only to be broken; both parties broke it without delay; and while
Philip was forming his league with the Bretons for the ruin of Anjou,
Richard was tracing out in the valley of the Gambon and on the rock of
Andely the plan of a line of fortifications which were to interpose
an insurmountable barrier between his Norman capital and the French
invader. His first act was to seize the Isle of Andely.[1884] Here he
built a lofty octagonal tower, encircled by a ditch and rampart, and
threw a bridge over the river from each side of the island, linking it
thus to either shore.[1885] On the right, beyond the eastern bridge, he
traced out the walls of a new town, which took the name of the New or
the Lesser Andely,[1886] a secure stronghold whose artificial defences
of ramparts and towers were surrounded by the further protection of the
lake on its eastern side, the Seine on the west, and the two lesser
rivers to north and south, a bridge spanning each of these two little
streams forming the sole means of access from the mainland.[1887]
The southern bridge, that over the Gambon, linked this New Andely
with the foot of the rock which was to be crowned with the mightiest
work of all. Richard began by digging out to a yet greater depth the
ravines which parted this rock from the surrounding heights, so as to
make it wholly inaccessible save by the one connecting isthmus at its
south-eastern extremity. On its summit, which formed a plateau some six
hundred feet in length and two hundred in breadth at the widest part,
he reared a triple fortress. The outer ward consisted of a triangular
enclosure; its apex, facing the isthmus already mentioned, was crowned
by a large round tower,[1888] with walls ten feet in thickness; the
extremities of its base were strengthened by similar towers, and two
smaller ones broke the line of the connecting curtain-wall. This
was surrounded by a ditch dug in the rock to a depth of more than
forty feet, and having a perpendicular counterscarp. Fronting the
base of this outer fortress across the ditch on its north-western
side was a rampart surmounted by a wall ninety feet long and eight
feet thick, also flanked by two round towers; from these a similar
wall ran all round the edges of the plateau, where the steep sides
of the rock itself took the place of rampart and ditch. The wall on
the south-west side--the river-front--was broken by another tower,
cylindrical without, octagonal within; and its northern extremity
was protected by two mighty rectangular bastions. Close against one
of these stood a round tower, which served as the base of a third
enclosure, the heart and citadel of the whole fortress. Two-thirds
of its elliptical outline, on the east and south, were formed by a
succession of semicircular bastions, or segments of towers, seventeen
in number, each parted from its neighbour by scarcely more than
two feet of curtain-wall--an arrangement apparently imitated from the
fortress of Cherbourg, which was accounted the greatest marvel of
military architecture in Normandy, until its fame was eclipsed by that
of Richard’s work.[1889] This portion of the enclosure was built upon
a rampart formed by the excavation of a ditch about fifteen to twenty
feet in width; the counterscarp, like that of the outer ditches, was
perpendicular; and a series of casemates cut in the rock ran along on
this side for a distance of about eighty feet. On the western side of
the citadel stood the keep, a mighty circular tower, with walls of
the thickness of twelve feet, terminating at an angle of twenty feet
in depth where it projected into the enclosure; it had two or perhaps
three stages,[1890] and was lighted by two great arched windows, whence
the eye could range at will over the wooded hills and dales of the
Vexin, or the winding course of the river broadening onward to Rouen.
Behind the keep was placed the principal dwelling-house, and under this
a staircase cut out of the rock gave access to an underground passage
leading to some outworks and a tower near the foot of the hill, whence
a wall was carried down to the river-bank, just beyond the northern
extremity of a long narrow island known as the “isle of the Three
Kings”--doubtless from some one of the many meetings held in this
district by Louis VII. or Philip Augustus and the two Henrys.[1891] The
river itself was barred by a double stockade, crossing its bed from
shore to shore.[1892]
[Illustration: Plan VIII.
CHATEAU-GAILLARD
(From Deville, “Histoire du Château-Gaillard”).
Wagner & Debes’ Geogˡ. Estabᵗ. Leipsic. London, Macmillan & Co.
]
[1882] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. v. (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 151.
[1883] Treaty in Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 66. For date see
Rigord (Duchesne as above), p. 39.
[1884] Letter of Walter of Rouen (a. 1196), R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. ii. pp. 148, 149. Cf. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p.
14, and Will. Newb., l. v. c. 34 (Howlett, vol. ii. p. 499).
[1885] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 29–43 (Deville,
_Château-Gaillard_, p. 126; Duchesne as above, p. 169).
[1886] A poet of the thirteenth century, William Guiart, calls
it “le Nouvel-Andeli.” It is known now as “le Petit-Andely.”
Deville as above, p. 26.
[1887] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 81. Deville, _Château-Gaillard_, p. 27.
[1888] Now known as “tour de la Monnaie.” Deville as above, p.
30, note 1.
[1889] See Deville, _Château-Gaillard_, p. 34, and the passage
there quoted from _Hist. Gaufr. Ducis_ (Marchegay, _Comtes
d’Anjou_, p. 300).
[1890] See Deville as above, p. 38, note 2.
[1891] _Ib._ p. 36. The island is now joined to the mainland;
_ib._ note 1.
[1892] For description see Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 81;
_Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 48–85 (_ib._ pp. 169, 170; Deville as
above, pp. 126, 127), and Deville as above, pp. 25–40.
All this work was accomplished within a single year.[1893] Richard,
who had watched over its progress with unremitting care, broke into
an ecstasy of delight at its completion; he called his barons to see
“how fair a child was his, this child but a twelvemonth old”;[1894]
he called it his “saucy castle,” “Château-Gaillard,”[1895] and the
name which he thus gave it in jest soon replaced in popular speech
its more formal title of “the Castle on the Rock of Andely.”[1896]
The hardness of the rock out of which the fortifications were hewn
was not the sole obstacle against which the royal builder had had to
contend. Richard had no more thought than Fulk Nerra would have had of
asking the primate’s leave before beginning to build upon his land;
the work therefore was no sooner begun than Archbishop Walter lifted
up his protest against it; obtaining no redress, he laid Normandy
under interdict and carried his complaint in person to the Pope.[1897]
Richard at once sent envoys to appeal against the interdict and make
arrangements for the settlement of the dispute.[1898] Meanwhile,
however, he pushed on the building without delay. Like Fulk of old,
the seeming wrath of Heaven moved him as little as that of its earthly
representatives; a rain of blood which fell upon the workmen and
the king himself, though it scared all beside, failed to shake his
determination; “if an angel had come down out of the sky to bid him
stay his hand, he would have got no answer but a curse.”[1899] He
had now, however, made his peace with the Church; in the spring of
1197 he offered to the archbishop an exchange of land on terms highly
advantageous to the metropolitan see; and on this condition the Pope
raised the interdict in May of the same year.[1900] The exchange was
carried through on October 16,[1901] and ratified by John in a separate
charter, a step which seems to indicate that John was now recognized as
his brother’s heir.[1902]
[1893] That is, the castle on the rock, built 1197–1198. See
the story of the rain of blood in May 1198 (R. Diceto, Stubbs,
vol. ii. p. 162), which fixes its completion after that date.
The tower on the island and the Nouvel-Andely were the work of
the previous year, 1196–1197.
[1894] “Ecce quam pulcra filia unius anni!” J. Bromton,
Twysden, _X. Scriptt._, col. 1276.
[1895] “Totamque munitionem illam vocavit Gaillardum, quod
sonat in Gallico petulantiam.” Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 81.
[1896] “Castrum” or “castellum de Rupe Andeleii” or
“Andeliaci,” it is called in the charters of Richard and John.
The first document in which it appears as “Château-Gaillard” is
a charter of S. Louis, “actum in Castro nostro Gaillard,” A.D.
1261; Deville, _Château-Gaillard_, p. 40. Will. Armor. however
uses the name, and other writers soon begin to copy him.
[1897] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 14. Cf. Will. Newb.,
l. v. c. 28 (Howlett, vol. ii. pp. 487, 488), R. Coggeshall
(Stevenson), p. 70, and Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 544.
[1898] The envoys were William of Longchamp, William bishop of
Lisieux and Philip elect of Durham; Rog. Howden (as above), pp.
16, 17. They must have started early in 1197, for William of
Longchamp died on the journey, at Poitiers, on January 31 or
February 1; see above, p. 373, note 4{1866}.
[1899] Will. Newb., l. v. c. 34 (as above, p. 500). This is
William’s last sentence. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 162,
also tells of the portent, and gives its date, May 8, 1198.
[1900] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 17–19. Will. Newb.,
l. v. c. 34 (Howlett, vol. ii. pp. 499, 500).
[1901] Richard’s charter, of which Deville gives a fac-simile
in his _Château-Gaillard_, p. 18, and a printed copy in his
“pièces justificatives,” _ib._ pp. 113–118, is also in R.
Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 154–156. According to this last
writer (_ib._ pp. 158, 159), and Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs, vol. i.
p. 544), the settlement was due to the mediation of Archbishop
Hubert.
[1902] See Deville, as above, pp. 21, 22. John’s charter is in
the “pièces justificatives,” _ib._ pp. 119–123.
It was probably about the same time that the treaty with Flanders, the
corner-stone of the league which Richard was forming against the king
of France, was signed within the walls of the new fortress.[1903] Yet,
as has been already seen, the coalition was not fully organized till
late in the following summer; and even then the complicated weapon hung
fire. Want of money seems to have been Richard’s chief difficulty, now
as ever--a difficulty which after Hubert Walter’s defeat in the council
at Oxford and his resignation in the following July must have seemed
well-nigh insurmountable. At last, however, in the spring of 1199, a
ray of hope came from a quarter where it was wholly unexpected. Richard
was leading his mercenaries through Poitou to check the viscount of
Limoges and the count of Angoulême in a renewal of their treasonable
designs[1904] when he was met by rumours of a marvellous discovery
at Châlus in the Limousin. A peasant working on the land of Achard,
the lord of Châlus, was said to have turned up with his plough a
treasure[1905] which popular imagination pictured as nothing less than
“an emperor with his wife, sons and daughters, all of pure gold, and
seated round a golden table.”[1906] In vain did Achard seek to keep
his secret and his prize to himself. Treasure-trove was a right of the
overlord, and it seems to have been at once claimed by the viscount
Ademar of Limoges, as Achard’s immediate superior. His claim, however,
had to give way to that of his own overlord, King Richard; but when
he sent to the king the share which he had himself wrung from Achard,
Richard indignantly rejected it, vowing that he would have all. This
Achard and Ademar both refused, and the king laid siege to Châlus.[1907]
[1903] R. Diceto (as above), p. 153.
[1904] Rog. Howden as above, p. 80, says merely that Richard
was on his way to Poitou. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 94,
says he was marching against the viscount of Limoges, to
punish him for a treasonable alliance with the French king.
The writer of the _Mag. Vita S. Hug._ (Dimock), p. 280, says
“expeditionem direxerat adversus comitem Engolismensem”; and
that Angoulême had some share in the matter appears also from
the confused story of Gerv. Cant. (as above), pp. 592, 593, who
makes Richard receive his death-wound while besieging “castrum
comitis Engolismi, quod Nantrum erat appellatum.” A joint
rebellion of the lords of Limoges and Angoulême would be very
natural, for they were half-brothers. On the other hand, the
two men were very likely to be confounded by historians, for
they both bore the same name, Ademar. See above, p. 220 and
note 3{1035}.
[1905] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. v. (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 155. Rigord (_ib._ p. 42) describes the
finder as a soldier.
[1906] “Qui posteris, quo tempore fuerant, certam dabant
memoriam,” adds Rigord (as above), p. 43. Is it possible that
the thing can have been a real relic of some of the old Gothic
kings of Aquitania?
[1907] This seems to be the only way of reconciling the
different accounts in Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 82,
Rigord (as above), p. 42, Will. Armor. as above, and R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 94.
This place, not far from the western border of the Limousin, is now
represented by two villages, known conjointly as Châlus-Chabrol, and
built upon the summits of two low hills, at whose foot winds the
little stream of Tardoire. Each hill is crowned by a round tower of
late twelfth-century work; the lower one is traditionally said to be
the keep of the fortress besieged by Richard with all his forces at
Mid-Lent 1199.[1908] In vain did Achard, who was utterly unprepared
to stand a siege, protest his innocence and offer to submit to the
judgement of the French king’s court, as supreme alike over the duke
of Aquitaine and over his vassals; in vain did he beg for a truce
till the holy season should be past; in vain, when the outworks were
almost wholly destroyed and the keep itself undermined,[1909] did he
ask leave to surrender with the honours of war for himself and his men.
Richard was inexorable; he swore that he would hang them all.[1910]
With the courage that is born of despair, Achard, accompanied by six
knights and nine serving-men, retired into the keep, determined to hold
it until death.[1911] All that day--Friday, March 26[1912]--Richard
and his lieutenant Mercadier, the captain of his mercenaries,[1913]
prowled vainly round the walls, seeking for a point at which they
could assault them with safety.[1914] Their sappers were all the while
undermining the tower.[1915] Its defenders, finding themselves short
of missiles, began throwing down beams of wood and fragments of the
broken battlements at the miners’ heads.[1916] They were equally short
of defensive arms; one of the little band stood for more than half the
day upon a turret, with nothing but a frying-pan for a shield against
the bolts which flew whistling all around him, yet failed to drive him
from his post.[1917] At last the moment came for which he had been
waiting so long and so bravely. Just as Richard, unarmed save for his
iron head-piece, paused within bow-shot of the turret, this man caught
sight of an arrow which had been shot at himself from the besieging
ranks--seemingly, indeed, by Richard’s own hand--and had stuck
harmlessly in a crevice of the wall within his reach. He snatched it
out, fitted it to his cross-bow, and aimed at the king.[1918] Richard
saw the movement and greeted it with a shout of defiant applause; he
failed to shelter himself under his buckler; the arrow struck him on
the left shoulder, just below the joint of the neck, and glancing
downwards penetrated deep into his side.[1919] He made light of the
wound,[1920] gave strict orders to Mercadier to press the assault with
redoubled vigour,[1921] and rode back to his tent as if nothing was
amiss.[1922] There he rashly tried to pull out the arrow with his own
hand.[1923] The wood broke off, the iron barb remained fixed in the
wound; a surgeon attached to the staff of Mercadier was sent for, and
endeavoured to cut it out; unluckily, Richard was fat like his father,
and the iron, buried deep in his flesh, was so difficult to reach that
the injuries caused by the operator’s knife proved more dangerous
than that which had been inflicted by the shaft of the hostile
crossbow-man.[1924] The wounded side grew more swollen and inflamed day
by day; the patient’s constitutional restlessness, aggravated as it
was by pain, made matters worse;[1925] and at last mortification set
in.[1926]
[1908] Will. Armor. (as above) says the treasure was discovered
_after_ Mid-Lent. But Rog. Howden (as above, p. 84), Gerv.
Cant. (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 593), R. Coggeshall (Stevenson,
p. 95), and the Ann. of Margam, Winton. and Waverl. a. 1199
(Luard, _Ann. Monast._, vol. i. p. 24, vol. ii. pp. 71, 251),
all tell us that Richard received his death-wound on March
26--Friday, the morrow of Mid-Lent--and R. Coggeshall adds that
this was the third day of the siege, which must therefore have
begun on Wednesday, March 24.
[1909] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. v. (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 155.
[1910] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 82. Cf. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 593.
[1911] Will. Armor. as above.
[1912] See above, p. 382, note 4{1908}.
[1913] On this man’s history see an article by H.
Géraud--“Mercadier; les Routiers au xiiiᵉ siècle”--in
_Bibl. de l’Ecole des Chartes_, ser. i. vol. iii. pp. 417
_et seq._ The writers of his own time call him “Marcadeus,”
“Mercaderius,” in every possible variety of spelling; in a
charter of his own, printed by Géraud (as above, p. 444),
his style is “ego Merchaderius”; it seems best therefore
to adopt the form “Mercadier,” which Géraud uses. He was a
Provençal by birth (Mat. Paris, _Chron. Maj._, Luard, vol. ii.
p. 421). He makes his first historical appearance in 1183,
in Richard’s service, amid the disorders in Aquitaine after
the death of the young king (Geoff. Vigeois, l. ii. c. 25,
Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._, vol. ii. p. 340). He reappears by
Richard’s side at Vendôme in 1194 (Rog. Howden, Stubbs, vol.
iii. p. 256); about this time Richard endowed him with the
lands of Bainac in Périgord (see his own charter, a. 1195, as
referred to above, and Géraud’s comments, _ib._ pp. 423–427).
He played a considerable part in Richard’s wars with Philip
(see authorities collected by Géraud, as above, pp. 428–431),
remained, as we shall see, with Richard till his death, and
afterwards helped Eleanor to regain Anjou for John. He was
slain at Bordeaux in April 1200 (Rog. Howden, Stubbs, vol. iv.
p. 114).
[1914] Rog. Howden (as above), p. 82.
[1915] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 94.
[1916] _Ibid._ Will. Armor. as above.
[1917] R. Coggeshall, p. 95.
[1918] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. v. (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 156. Cf. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv.
p. 82.
[1919] “Percussitque regem super humerum sinistrum juxta colli
spondilia, sicque arcuato vulnere telum dilapsum est deorsum
ac lateri sinistro immersum.” R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p.
95. See also the briefer accounts of the scene and the wound
in Rog. Howden and Will. Armor. as above, and Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 593.
[1920] R. Coggeshall as above.
[1921] Rog. Howden as above.
[1922] _Ibid._ R. Coggeshall as above.
[1923] R. Coggeshall as above. Rog. Howden (as above), p. 83,
lays the blame of this unskilful operation upon the doctor.
[1924] Rog. Howden and R. Coggeshall as above.
[1925] The English writers--Rog. Howden and R. Coggeshall--try
to shift the blame of their king’s death as much as possible
upon the foreign surgeon. Will. Armor. (as above) attributes
it wholly to Richard’s disregard of the doctor’s orders; and
even R. Coggeshall (Stevenson, p. 96) is obliged to add at
last “rege ... præcepta medicorum non curante.” Rog. Wendover.
(Coxe), vol. iii. p. 135, says the arrow was poisoned, but this
seems to be only an inference from the result.
[1926] R. Coggeshall as above.
Then Richard, face to face with death, came to his better self once
more, and prepared calmly and bravely for his end. Until then he had
suffered no one to enter the chamber where he lay save four barons
whom he specially trusted, lest the report of his sickness should be
bruited about,[1927] to discourage his friends or to rejoice his foes.
Now, he summoned all of his followers who were within reach to witness
his solemn bequest of all his dominions to his brother John, and made
them swear fealty to John as his successor.[1928] He wrote to his
mother, who was at Fontevraud, requesting her to come to him;[1929] he
bequeathed his jewels to his nephew King Otto, and a fourth part of
his treasures to be distributed among his servants and the poor.[1930]
By this time Châlus was taken and its garrison hung, according to
his earlier orders--all save the man who had shot him, and who had
apparently been reserved for his special judgement. Richard ordered the
man to be brought before him. “What have I done to thee,” he asked him,
“that thou shouldest slay me?” “Thou hast slain my father and two of my
brothers with thine own hand, and thou wouldst fain have killed me too.
Avenge thyself upon me as thou wilt; I will gladly endure the greatest
torments which thou canst devise, since I have seen thee upon thy
death-bed.” “I forgive thee,” answered Richard, and he bade the guards
loose him and let him go free with a gift of a hundred shillings.[1931]
The story went that Richard had not communicated for nearly seven
years, because he could not put himself in charity with Philip.[1932]
Now, on the eleventh day after his wound--April 6, the Tuesday in
Passion-week[1933]--he made his confession to one of his chaplains,
and received the Holy Communion. His soul being thus at peace, he gave
directions for the disposal of his body. It was to be embalmed; the
brain and some of the internal organs were to be buried in the ancient
Poitevin abbey of Charroux; the heart was to be deposited in the
Norman capital, where it had always found a loyal response; the corpse
itself was to be laid, in token of penitence, at his father’s feet
in the abbey-church of Fontevraud.[1934] Lastly, he received extreme
unction; and then, “as the day drew to its close, his day of life also
came to its end.”[1935] His friends buried him as he had wished. S.
Hugh of Lincoln, now at Angers on his way to protest against a fresh
spoliation of his episcopal property, came to seal his forgiveness
by performing the last rites of the Church over this second grave
at Fontevraud,[1936] where another Angevin king was thus “shrouded
among the shrouded women”--his own mother, doubtless, in their
midst.[1937] He was laid to sleep in the robes which he had worn on his
last crowning-day in England, five years before.[1938] His heart was
enclosed in a gold and silver casket, carried to Rouen, and solemnly
deposited by the clergy among the holy relics in their cathedral
church;[1939] and men saw in its unusual size[1940] a fit token of the
mighty spirit of him whom Normandy never ceased to venerate as Richard
Cœur-de-Lion.
[1927] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 96.
[1928] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 83. And this, although
he and John had parted on bad terms shortly before. R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 99. _Mag. Vita S. Hug._ (Dimock), p.
287.
[1929] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 96.
[1930] Rog. Howden as above.
[1931] _Ibid._ Cf. the different account of the captive’s
demeanour in Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 593. It seems
impossible to make out who this man really was. R. Diceto
(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 166, the Ann. Margam, a. 1199 (Luard,
_Ann. Monast._, vol. i. p. 24), the anonymous continuator of
Geoff. Vigeois (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._, vol. ii. p. 342) and
Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. p. 135, call him Peter Basilius or
Basilii. Gervase calls him John Sabraz; Rog. Howden, Bertrand
de Gourdon; and Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. v. (Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. p. 156), Guy, without any
surname at all. But as Géraud proves (art. “Mercadier,” in
_Bibl. de l’Ecole des Chartes_, ser. i. vol. iii. pp. 433, 434,
442), it cannot have been Bertrand de Gourdon; for the only man
who is known to have borne that name was still living in 1231,
while Rog. Howden himself tells us that Richard’s pardon did
not avail to save the life of his slayer. Mercadier detained
the man till the king was dead, and then had him flayed and
hanged; Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 84;--or, according to
another account, he sent him to Jane, and it was she who took
this horrible vengeance for her brother’s death. Ann. Winton.
a. 1199 (Luard, _Ann. Monast._, vol. ii. p. 71).
[1932] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 96. This must be, at any
rate, an exaggeration; for Richard had certainly communicated
upon at least one occasion within the last five years--at his
crowning at Winchester in April 1194. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 526.
[1933] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 166; Gerv. Cant. (as
above), p. 593; Rog. Howden as above; Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol.
iii. p. 136; Ann. Winton. and Waverl. a. 1199 (Luard as above,
pp. 71, 251); Geoff. Vigeois Contin. (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii.), p. 342. R. Coggeshall as above, and the Chron. S.
Flor. Salm. a. 1199 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 194), make it
April 7; on the part of R. Coggeshall, however, this is clearly
a mere slip, for he rightly places the death on the eleventh
day after the wound. Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._,
vol. v.), p. 42, and the Chron. S. Serg. a. 1199 (Marchegay,
_Eglises_, p. 151), date it April 8, and the Ann. Margam, a.
1199 (Luard, as above, vol. i. p. 24), April 10.
[1934] Rog. Howden as above. Cf. Rog. Wend. as above.
[1935] “Cum jam dies clauderetur, diem clausit extremum.” R.
Coggeshall as above.
[1936] _Mag. Vita S. Hug._ (Dimock), p. 286. The funeral was on
Palm Sunday; _ibid._
[1937] She seems not to have got his letter in time to see him
alive. Berengaria was at Beaufort in Anjou, whither S. Hugh
turned aside to visit and comfort her on his way from Angers to
Fontevraud; and the state of intense grief in which he found
her supplies another proof of Richard’s capacity for winning
love which he did not altogether deserve. _Mag. Vita S. Hug._
(Dimock), p. 286.
[1938] Ann. Winton. a. 1199 (Luard, _Ann. Monast._, vol. ii. p.
71).
[1939] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. v. (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 157.
[1940] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 593. According to the
Ann. Winton. as above, it was “paulo majus pomo pini.”
CHAPTER IX.
THE FALL OF THE ANGEVINS.
1199–1206.
“In the year 1199,” says a contemporary French writer, “God visited the
realm of France; for King Richard was slain.”[1941] Richard’s death
was in truth the signal for the break-up of the Angevin dominions
to the profit of the French Crown. John, who was at the moment in
Britanny, hurried southward as soon as he heard the news. Three days
after the funeral--on April 14, the Wednesday before Easter--he
arrived at Chinon, the seat of the Angevin treasury; the wardens of
the castle[1942] welcomed him as their lord in his brother’s stead;
the household of the late king came to meet him and acknowledged him
in like manner, after receiving from him a solemn oath that he would
carry out Richard’s testamentary directions and maintain the customs of
the lands over which he was called to rule.[1943] On this understanding
the treasury was given up to him by the Angevin seneschal, Robert of
Turnham.[1944] After keeping Easter at Beaufort,[1945] he proceeded
into Normandy; here he was received without opposition, and on the
Sunday after Easter was invested with the sword, lance and coronet
of the duchy by Archbishop Walter at Rouen.[1946] As the lance was
put into his hands he turned with characteristic levity to join in
the laughing comments of the young courtiers behind him, and in so
doing let the symbol of his ducal authority fall to the ground. His
irreverent behaviour and refusal to communicate on Easter-day had
already drawn upon him a solemn warning from S. Hugh; and this fresh
example of his profane recklessness, and its consequence, were noted
as omens which later events made but too easy of interpretation.[1947]
For the moment, however, the Normans were willing to transfer to
Richard’s chosen successor the loyalty which they had shewn towards
Richard himself; and so, too, were the representatives of the English
Church and baronage who happened to be on the spot, Archbishop Hubert
and William the Marshal.[1948] But in the Angevin lands Philip’s
alliance with the Bretons, fruitless so long as Richard lived, bore
fruit as soon as the lion-heart had ceased to beat. While Philip
himself invaded the county of Evreux and took its capital,[1949]
Arthur was at once sent into Anjou with a body of troops;[1950] his
mother, released or escaped from her prison, joined him at the head
of the Breton forces;[1951] they marched upon Le Mans, whence John
himself only escaped the night before it fell into their hands;[1952]
Angers was given up to them by its governor, a nephew of the seneschal
Robert of Turnham;[1953] and on Easter-day,[1954] while John was
actually holding court within fifteen miles of them at Beaufort, the
barons of Anjou, Touraine and Maine held a council at which Arthur was
unanimously acknowledged as lawful heir to his uncle Richard according
to the customs of the three counties, and their capital cities were
surrendered to him at once.[1955] At Le Mans he met the French king
and did homage to him for his new dominions, Constance swearing fealty
with him.[1956] Shortly afterwards, at Tours, Constance formally
placed her boy, who was now twelve years old, under the guardianship
of Philip; and Philip at once took upon himself the custody and the
administration of all the territories of his ward.[1957]
[1941] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 80.
[1942] “A proceribus quibusdam _Anglorum_ castrum ipsum
servantibus.” _Mag. Vita S. Hug._ (Dimock), p. 287.
[1943] _Ibid._
[1944] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 86. R. Coggeshall
(Stevenson), p. 99.
[1945] Rog. Howden as above, p. 87.
[1946] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 166. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 87, 88. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p.
99. _Mag. Vita S. Hug._ (Dimock), p. 293.
[1947] _Mag. Vita S. Hug._ (Dimock), pp. 291–294.
[1948] Rog. Howden as above, p. 86.
[1949] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
43. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 80. Cf. R.
Coggeshall as above.
[1950] Rigord as above.
[1951] Cf. R. Coggeshall as above, and _Mag. Vita S. Hug._
(Dimock), p. 296, with Rog. Howden as above, p. 87.
[1952] _Mag. Vita S. Hug._ as above.
[1953] Rog. Howden as above, p. 86.
[1954] Chron. S. Albin. a. 1199 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 50).
[1955] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 86, 87. Cf. R. Coggeshall as
above.
[1956] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
43.
[1957] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 87. The Chron. S.
Albin. a. 1200 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 51) places this a year
later.
Neither in personal influence nor in political skill, however, was
Constance a match for her mother-in-law. Eleanor was, as has been seen,
at Fontevraud when Richard died. Feeling and policy alike inclined her
to favour the cause of his chosen successor, her own only surviving
son, rather than that of a grandson whom most likely she had never
even seen. She therefore effected a junction with Mercadier and his
Brabantines as soon as they had had time to march up from Châlus,
and the whole band of mercenaries, headed by the aged queen and the
ruthless but faithful Provençal captain, overran Anjou with fire and
sword to punish its inhabitants for their abandonment of John.[1958]
Having given this proof of her undiminished energy, Eleanor, to take
away all pretext for French intermeddling in the south, went to meet
Philip at Tours and herself did homage to him for Poitou.[1959] By this
means Aquitaine was secured for John. John himself had made a dash
into Maine and burned Le Mans in vengeance for the defection of its
citizens.[1960] He could, however, venture upon no serious attempt at
the reconquest of the Angevin lands till he had secured his hold upon
Normandy and England; and for this his presence was now urgently needed
on the English side of the Channel.
[1958] Rog. Howden as above, p. 88.
[1959] Rigord as above.
[1960] Rog. Howden as above, p. 87. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson),
p. 99.
Archbishop Hubert and William the Marshal had already returned to
England charged with a commission from John to assist the justiciar
Geoffrey Fitz-Peter in maintaining order there until the new king
should arrive.[1961] The precaution was far from being a needless one.
The news of Richard’s death reached England on Easter Eve; and its
consequences appeared the very next morning, when some of the nobles
and knights went straight from their Easter feast to begin a course
of rapine and depredation which recalls the disorders after the death
of Henry I., and which was only checked by the return of the primate.
Hubert at once excommunicated the evil-doers,[1962] and, in concert
with the Marshal, summoned all the men of the realm to swear fealty and
peaceable submission to John, as heir of Henry Fitz-Empress. The peace,
however, was not so easy to keep now as it had been during the interval
between Henry’s death and Richard’s coronation. Since then John himself
had set an example which those whom he now claimed as his subjects
were not slow to follow. All who had castles, whether bishops, earls
or barons, furnished them with men, victuals and arms, and assumed
an attitude of defence, if not of defiance; and this attitude they
quitted only when the archbishop, the marshal and the justiciar had
called all the malcontents to a conference at Northampton, and there
solemnly promised that John should render to all men their rights,
if they would keep faith and peace towards him. On this the barons
took the oath of fealty and liege homage to John. The king of Scots
refused to do the like unless his lost counties of Northumberland and
Cumberland were restored to him, and despatched messengers charged with
these demands to John himself; the envoys were, however, intercepted by
the archbishop and his colleagues, and the Scot king was for a while
appeased by a promise of satisfaction when the new sovereign should
arrive in his island-realm.[1963]
[1961] Rog. Howden as above, p. 86.
[1962] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 98.
[1963] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 88, 89.
On May 25 John landed at Shoreham; next day he reached London;[1964]
on the 27th--Ascension-day--the bishops and barons assembled for the
crowning in Westminster abbey.[1965] John’s coronation is one of the
most memorable in English history. It was the last occasion on which
the old English doctrine of succession to the crown was formally
asserted and publicly vindicated, and that more distinctly than it had
ever been since the Norman conquest. In the midst of the crowded church
the archbishop stood forth and spoke: “Hearken, all ye that are here
present! Be it known unto you that no man hath any antecedent right
to succeed another in the kingdom, except he be unanimously chosen
by the whole realm, after invocation of the Holy Spirit’s grace, and
unless he be also manifestly thereunto called by the pre-eminence of
his character and conversation, after the pattern of Saul the first
anointed king, whom God set over his people, although he was not of
royal race, and likewise after him David, the one being chosen for his
energy and fitness for the regal dignity, the other for his humility
and holiness; that so he who surpassed all other men of the realm in
vigour should also be preferred before them in authority and power. But
indeed if there be one of the dead king’s race who excelleth, that one
should be the more promptly and willingly chosen. And these things have
I spoken in behalf of the noble Count John here present, the brother of
our late illustrious King Richard, now deceased without direct heir;
and forasmuch as we see him to be prudent and vigorous, we all, after
invoking the Holy Spirit’s grace, for his merits no less than his royal
blood, have with one consent chosen him for our king.” The archbishop’s
hearers wondered at his speech, because they could not see any occasion
for it; but none of them disputed his doctrine; still less did they
dispute its immediate practical application. “Long live King John!” was
the unanimous response;[1966] and, disregarding a protest from Bishop
Philip of Durham against the accomplishment of such an important rite
in the absence of his metropolitan Geoffrey of York,[1967] Archbishop
Hubert proceeded to anoint and crown the king. A foreboding which he
could not put aside, however, moved him to make yet another significant
interpolation in the ritual. When he tendered to the king-elect the
usual oath for the defence of the Church, the redressing of wrongs and
the maintenance of justice, he added a solemn personal adjuration to
John, in Heaven’s name, warning him not to venture upon accepting the
regal office unless he truly purposed in his own mind to perform his
oath. John answered that by God’s help he intended to do so.[1968] But
he contrived to omit the act which should have sealed his vow. For the
first and last time probably in the history of Latin Christendom, the
king did not communicate upon his coronation-day.[1969]
[1964] _Ib._ p. 89.
[1965] _Ib._ pp. 89, 90. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. pp. 166.
R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 99, 100.
[1966] Mat. Paris, _Chron. Maj._ (Luard), vol. ii. pp. 454, 455.
[1967] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 90.
[1968] Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. p. 140.
[1969] _Mag. Vita S. Hug._ (Dimock), p. 293.
On that very day he made his arrangements for the government of the
realm which he was already anxious to leave as soon as he could do
so with safety. Geoffrey Fitz-Peter was confirmed in his office of
justiciar, William in that of marshal, and both were formally invested
with the earldoms whose lands and revenues they had already enjoyed
for some years--Geoffrey with the earldom of Essex, William with
that of Striguil. At the same time, in defiance alike of precedent,
of ecclesiastical propriety, and of the warnings of an old colleague
in the administration, Hugh Bardulf, Archbishop Hubert undertook the
office of chancellor.[1970] Next day John received the homage of the
barons, and went on pilgrimage to S. Alban’s abbey;[1971] he afterwards
visited Canterbury and S. Edmund’s,[1972] and thence proceeded to keep
the Whitsun feast at Northampton.[1973] An interchange of embassies
with the king of Scots failed to win either the restitution of the two
shires on the one hand, or the required homage on the other; William
threatened to invade the disputed territories if they were not made
over to him within forty days; John retorted by giving them in charge
to a new sheriff, the brave and loyal William de Stuteville, and by
appointing new guardians to the temporalities of York, as security for
the defence of the north against the Scots,[1974] while he himself
hurried back to the sea, and on June 20 sailed again for Normandy.[1975]
[1970] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 90, 91.
[1971] Rog. Wend. as above.
[1972] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 166.
[1973] _Ibid._ Rog. Howden as above, p. 91, says _Nottingham_;
but John was at Northampton on Whit-Monday according to Sir T.
D. Hardy’s _Itin. K. John_, a. 1 (_Introd. Pat. Rolls_).
[1974] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 91, 92.
[1975] _Ib._ p. 92. R. Diceto (as above) says June 19, but
Sir T. D. Hardy’s _Itinerary_, a. 1 (as above), shews John at
Shoreham on the 20th.
On Midsummer-day he made a truce with Philip for three weeks.[1976] At
its expiration the two kings held a personal meeting; John’s occupation
of his brother’s territories without previous investiture from and
homage to Philip was complained of by the latter as an unpardonable
wrong; and John was required to expiate it by the cession of the whole
Vexin to Philip in absolute ownership, and of Poitou and the three
Angevin counties for the benefit of Arthur. This John refused.[1977]
His fortunes were not yet so desperate as to compel him to such
humiliation. He had already secured the alliance of Flanders;[1978]
his nephew Otto, now fully acknowledged by the Pope as Emperor-elect,
was urging him to war with France and promising him the aid of the
imperial forces;[1979] and his refusal of submission to Philip was at
once followed by offers of homage and mutual alliance from all those
French feudataries who had been in league with Richard against their
own sovereign.[1980] The war began in September, with the taking of
Conches by the French king; this was followed by the capture of Ballon.
Philip, however, chose to celebrate these first successes by levelling
Ballon to the ground. As the castle stood upon Cenomannian soil, it
ought, according to the theory proclaimed by Philip himself, to have
been handed over by him to Arthur; Arthur’s seneschal William des
Roches therefore remonstrated against its demolition as an injury done
to his young lord. Philip retorted that “he would not for Arthur’s
sake stay from dealing as he pleased with his own acquisitions.” The
consequence was a momentary desertion of all his Breton allies. William
des Roches not only surrendered to John the city of Le Mans, which
Philip and Arthur had intrusted to him as governor, but contrived to
get the boy-duke of Britanny out of Philip’s custody and bring him to
his uncle, who received him into seeming favour and peace.[1981] That
very day, however, a warning reached Arthur of the fate to which he
was already doomed by John; and on the following night he fled away
to Angers with his mother and a number of their friends. Among the
latter was the viscount Almeric of Thouars, who had just been compelled
to resign into John’s hands the office of seneschal of Anjou and the
custody of the fortress of Chinon, which he held in Arthur’s name; and
it seems to have been shortly afterwards that Constance, apparently
casting off Ralf of Chester without even an attempt at divorce, went
through a ceremony of marriage with Almeric’s brother Guy.[1982]
[1976] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 93.
[1977] _Ib._ pp. 94, 95.
[1978] The count of Flanders did homage to John at Rouen on
August 13 [1199]. _Ib._ p. 93.
[1979] _Ib._ pp. 95, 96.
[1980] _Ib._ p. 95.
[1981] _Ib._ p. 96. This must have been on September 22; see
Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a. 1 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
[1982] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 96, 97. The marriage
of Guy and Constance must however have been legalized somehow,
for their child was ultimately acknowledged as heiress of
Britanny.
The year’s warfare again ended in a truce, made in October to last
till S. Hilary’s day.[1983] Its author was that Cardinal Peter of
Capua[1984] who had negotiated the last truce between Philip and
Richard, and who now found another occupation in punishing the
matrimonial sins of the French king:--Philip having sent away his queen
Ingebiorg of Denmark immediately after his marriage with her in 1193,
and three years later taken as his wife another princess, Agnes of
Merania.[1985] At a Church council at Dijon on December 6, 1199, the
legate passed a sentence of interdict upon the whole royal domain, to
be publicly proclaimed on the twentieth day after Christmas[1986]--the
very day on which Philip’s truce with John would expire. It was no
doubt the prospect of this new trouble which moved Philip, when he met
John in conference between Gaillon and Les Andelys,[1987] to accept
terms far more favourable to the English king than those which he
had offered six months before. As a pledge of future peace and amity
between the two kings, Philip’s son Louis was to marry John’s niece
Blanche, a daughter of his sister Eleanor and her husband King Alfonso
of Castille; John was to bestow upon the bride, by way of dowry, the
city and county of Evreux and all those Norman castles which had been
in Philip’s possession on the day of Richard’s death; he was also to
give Philip thirty thousand marks of silver, and to swear that he would
give no help to Otto for the vindication of his claim to the Empire.
The formal execution of the treaty was deferred till the octave of
midsummer; and while the aged queen-mother Eleanor went to fetch her
granddaughter from Spain, John at the end of February took advantage of
the respite to make a hurried visit to England,[1988] for the purpose
of raising the thirty thousand marks which he had promised to Philip.
This was done by means of a carucage or aid of three shillings on every
ploughland.[1989] As a scutage of a most unusual amount--two marks
on the knight’s fee--had already been levied since John’s accession,
this new impost was a sore burthen upon the country. The abbots of
some of the great Cistercian houses in Yorkshire withstood it as an
unheard-of infringement of their rights, to which they could not assent
without the permission of a general chapter of their order. John in a
fury bade the sheriffs put all the White Monks outside the protection
of the law. The remonstrances of the primate compelled him to revoke
this command; but he rejected all offers of compromise on the part of
the monks, and “breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the
disciples of the Lord” went over sea again at the end of April.[1990]
As France had been suffering the miseries of an interdict ever since
January,[1991] Philip was now growing eager for peace. He therefore
met John at Gouleton, between Vernon and Les Andelys, on May 22, and
there a treaty was signed. Its solid advantages were wholly on the
side of John. In addition to the concessions made in January, he did
indeed resign in favour of Blanche and her bridegroom his claims upon
the fiefs of Berry; but the thirty thousand marks due to Philip were
reduced to twenty thousand; Arthur was acknowledged as owing homage
to his uncle for Britanny; and John was formally recognized by the
French king as rightful heir to all the dominions of his father and
his elder brother.[1992] On the morrow Louis and Blanche were married,
by the archbishop of Bordeaux, and on Norman soil, in consequence of
the interdict in France;[1993] and on the same day, at Vernon, John
received in Philip’s presence Arthur’s homage for Britanny,[1994]
Philip having already accepted that of John for the whole continental
dominions of the house of Anjou.[1995]
[1983] _Ib._ p. 97. Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._,
vol. v.) p. 43, says S. John’s day.
[1984] Rog. Howden as above.
[1985] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 224, 306, 307. R.
Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 111. Rigord (as above), pp. 36,
37, 40, 42. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), pp. 77,
78. “Merania” is Moravia. Rigord and William both call the lady
Mary, but all scholars seem agreed that Agnes was her real name.
[1986] Rigord (as above), p. 43. Will. Armor. (as above), p.
80. Cf. R. Diceto (as above), pp. 167, 168.
[1987] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 106.
[1988] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 106, 107. John
crossed on February 24; Ann. Winton, a. 1200 (Luard, _Ann.
Monast._, vol. ii. p. 73).
[1989] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 101. Rog. Howden as above,
p. 107.
[1990] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 102, 103. The date of
John’s crossing lies between April 28 and May 2. Hardy, _Itin.
K. John_, a. 1 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
[1991] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
43; Rog. Howden as above, p. 112. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii.
p. 168, says only since Mid-Lent.
[1992] Treaty in Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 79, and Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 148–151. Its date is not quite
clear; the document itself bears only “mense Maii”; Rigord
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. p. 43) says it
was made on Ascension-day (May 18); Rog. Howden (as above,
p. 114) begins by placing it at the date for which it had
been originally fixed--the octave of S. John Baptist--but in
the next page corrects this into “xi kalendas Junii, feria
secunda,” _i.e._ Monday, May 22. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p.
103, believed the thirty thousand marks to have been paid in
full. The remission of ten thousand of them clearly made no
difference to England; they were pocketed by John.
[1993] Rog. Howden as above, p. 115. He says it was at
Portmort, on the morrow of the treaty--_i.e._ according to
his reckoning, on Tuesday, May 23. Rigord however (as above),
p. 44, dates it “at the same place, on the Monday after
[Ascension],” _i.e._ Gouleton, May 22. Hardy’s _Itinerary_, a.
2, shews John at La Roche-Andelys (Château-Gaillard) daily from
May 17 to May 25. The places however are all close together.
[1994] Rog. Howden as above.
[1995] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 101.
The next six weeks were spent by John in a triumphant progress
southward, through Le Mans, Angers, Chinon, Tours and Loches, into
Aquitaine, where he remained until the end of August.[1996] While
there, he received the homage of his brother-in-law Count Raymond
of Toulouse for the dower-lands of Jane,[1997] who had died in the
preceding autumn.[1998] Of all these successes, however, John went far
to cast away the fruit by a desecration of the marriage-bond almost as
shameless and quite as impolitic as that which had brought upon Philip
the wrath of Rome. He persuaded the Aquitanian and Norman bishops to
annul his marriage with his cousin Avice of Gloucester, apparently by
making them believe that the dispensation granted by Clement III. had
been revoked by Innocent.[1999] Instead however of restoring to Avice
the vast heritage which had been settled upon her at her betrothal, he
gave her county of Gloucester to her sister’s husband Count Almeric of
Evreux as compensation for the loss of his Norman honour,[2000] and
apparently kept the remainder of her estates in his own hands. These
proceedings were enough to excite the ill-will of a powerful section
of the English baronage. John’s next step was a direct challenge to
the most active, turbulent and troublesome house in all Aquitaine. He
gave out that he desired to wed a daughter of the king of Portugal,
and despatched an honourable company of ambassadors, headed by the
bishop of Lisieux, to sue for her hand; after these envoys had started,
however, and without a word of notice to them, he suddenly married the
daughter of Count Ademar of Angoulême.[2001] Twenty-nine years before,
Richard, as duke of Aquitaine, had vainly striven to wrest Angoulême
from Ademar in behalf of Matilda, the only child of Ademar’s brother
Count Vulgrin III. Matilda was now the wife of Hugh “the Brown” of
Lusignan, who in 1179 or 1180 had in spite of King Henry made himself
master of La Marche,[2002] and whose personal importance in southern
Gaul was increased by the rank and fame which his brothers Geoffrey,
Guy and Almeric had won in the kingdoms of Palestine and Cyprus. His
son by Matilda--another Hugh the Brown--had through Richard’s good
offices been betrothed in boyhood to his infant cousin Isabel, Ademar’s
only child; the little girl was educated with her future husband, and
it was hoped that in due time their marriage would heal the family feud
and unite the lands of Angoulême and La Marche without possibility
of further dissension. No sooner however did Count Ademar discover
that a king wished to marry his daughter than he took her away from
her bridegroom; and at the end of August she was married to John at
Angoulême by the archbishop of Bordeaux.[2003]
[1996] See Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a. 2 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
[1997] Rog. Howden as above, p. 124.
[1998] _Ib._ p. 96.
[1999] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 103, says the divorce was
made “per mandatum domini Papæ ... propter consanguinitatis
lineam.” But R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 167, says it
was made because John was “sublimioris thori spe raptatus,”
and adds: “unde magnam summi pontificis, scilicet Innocentii
tertii, et totius curiæ Romanæ indignationem incurrit.” He
dates it 1199, and attributes it to the Norman bishops; Rog.
Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 119, places it in 1200, and names
only the archbishop of Bordeaux and the bishops of Poitiers and
Saintes.
[2000] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 101.
[2001] R. Diceto as above, p. 170.
[2002] See above, p. 220.
[2003] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 119, 120. Cf. R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 103. No one gives a date; but John
was at Angoulême on August 26 (Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a. 2,
_Intr. Pat. Rolls_); and “his settlement on Isabella is dated
Aug. 30. _Rot. Chart._, p. 75” (Stubbs, _Rog. Howden_, vol. iv.
p. 168, note 1). Rog. Howden and R. Coggeshall both say this
marriage was advised by Philip.
Heedless of the storm which this marriage was sure to raise in
Aquitaine, John in the first days of October carried his child-queen
with him to England, and on the 8th was crowned with her at
Westminster.[2004] His first business in England was to renew his
persecution of the Cistercians;[2005] the next was to arrange a meeting
with the king of Scots. This took place in November at Lincoln, where
John, defying the tradition which his father had carefully observed,
ventured to present himself in regal state within the cathedral
church.[2006] The two kings held their colloquy on a hill outside the
city; William performed his long-deferred homage,[2007] although his
renewed demand for the restitution of the northern shires was again
put off till Whitsuntide.[2008] Next day the king of England helped
with his own hands to carry the body of the holy bishop Hugh to its
last resting-place in the minster which he had himself rebuilt.[2009]
Some haunting remembrance of Hugh’s saintlike face, as he had seen it
in London only a few weeks before the good bishop’s death,[2010]
may have combined with a sense that the White Monks were still too
great a power in the land to be defied with impunity, and moved
John on the following Sunday to make full amends to the Cistercian
abbots, promising to seal his repentance by founding a house of
their order[2011]--a promise which he redeemed by the foundation of
Beaulieu abbey, in the New Forest.[2012] After keeping Christmas at
Guildford[2013] he came back again to Lincoln, and quarrelled with
the canons about the election of a new bishop.[2014] He thence went
northward, accompanied by his queen, through Lincolnshire, Yorkshire,
Northumberland and Cumberland, taking fines everywhere for offences
against the forest-law. At Mid-Lent he was at York,[2015] and on
Easter-day he and Isabel wore their crowns at Canterbury.[2016] A few
days later, rumours of disturbances in Normandy and in Poitou paused
him to issue orders for the earls and barons of England to meet him at
Portsmouth at Whitsuntide, ready with horses and ships to accompany him
over sea. The earls however held a meeting at Leicester, and thence by
common consent made answer to the king that they would not go with him
“unless he gave them back their rights.” It is clear that they already
looked upon personal service beyond sea as no longer binding upon them
without their own consent, specially given for a special occasion.
John retorted by demanding the surrender of their castles, beginning
with William of Aubigny’s castle of Beauvoir, which William was only
suffered to retain on giving his son as a hostage.[2017] This threat
brought the barons to Portsmouth on the appointed day; but the quarrel
ended in a compromise. After despatching his chamberlain Hubert de
Burgh, with a hundred knights, to act as keeper of the Welsh marches,
and sending William the Marshal and Roger de Lacy, each with a hundred
mercenaries, to resist the enemies in Normandy, John took from the
remainder of the host a scutage in commutation of their services, and
bade them return to their own homes.[2018] On Whit-Monday the queen
crossed to Normandy, and shortly afterwards her husband followed.[2019]
[2004] Rog. Howden as above, p. 139. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol.
ii. p. 170. R. Coggeshall as above, with a wrong date.
[2005] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 103, 104.
[2006] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 140, 141.
[2007] _Ib._ p. 141.
[2008] _Ib._ p. 142.
[2009] _Ibid._ R. Diceto as above, p. 171. _Mag. Vita S. Hug._
(Dimock), pp. 370, 371.
[2010] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 140, 141.
[2011] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 107–110. _Mag. Vita S.
Hug._ (Dimock), pp. 377, 378.
[2012] On Beaulieu see R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 147; Ann.
Waverl. a. 1204 (Luard, _Ann. Monast._, vol. ii. p. 256); and
Dugdale, _Monast. Angl._, vol. v. pp. 682, 683.
[2013] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 172. Rog. Howden
(Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 156.
[2014] Rog. Howden as above.
[2015] _Ib._ p. 157. See details of his movements in Hardy,
_Itin. K. John_, a. 2 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
[2016] Rog. Howden as above, p. 160. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol.
ii. p. 172.
[2017] Rog. Howden as above, pp. 160, 161.
[2018] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 163.
[2019] _Ib._ p. 164.
After a friendly meeting near the Isle of Andelys,[2020] Philip
invited John to Paris, where he entertained him with the highest
honours, vacating his own palace for the reception of his guest, and
loading him with costly gifts.[2021] From Paris John went to meet his
sister-in-law, Richard’s queen Berengaria, at Chinon,[2022] where he
seems to have chiefly spent the rest of the summer. He came back to
Normandy in the autumn,[2023] and the Christmas feast at Argentan[2024]
passed over in peace; but trouble was fast gathering on all sides.
Philip was at last free of his ecclesiastical difficulties, for Agnes
of Merania was dead, and he had taken back his wife.[2025] John was
now in his turn to pay the penalty for his unwarrantable divorce and
his lawless second marriage. As if he had not already done enough to
alienate the powerful house of Lusignan by stealing the plighted bride
of its head,[2026] he had now seized the castle of Driencourt, which
belonged to a brother of Hugh the Brown, while its owner was absent
in England on business for the king himself;[2027] and he had further
insulted the barons of Poitou by summoning them to clear themselves in
his court from a general charge of treason against his late brother
and himself, by ordeal of battle with picked champions from England
and Normandy. They scorned the summons,[2028] and appealed to the king
of France, John’s overlord as well as theirs, to bring John to justice
for their wrongs.[2029] On March 25 Philip met John at Gouleton,[2030]
and peremptorily bade him give up to Arthur all his French fiefs,
besides sundry other things, all of which John refused.[2031] Hereupon
Philip sent, through some of the great French nobles,[2032] a citation
to John, as duke of Aquitaine, to appear in Paris fifteen days after
Easter at the court of his lord the king of France, to stand to its
judgement, to answer to his lord for his misdoings, and to undergo the
sentence of his peers.[2033] John made no attempt to deny Philip’s
jurisdiction; but he declared that, as duke of Normandy, he was not
bound to obey the French king’s citation to any spot other than the
traditional trysting-place on the border. Philip replied that his
summons was addressed to the duke of Aquitaine, not to the duke of
Normandy, and that his rights over the former were not to be annulled
by the accidental union of the two dignities in one person.[2034] John
at length yielded so far as to promise that on the appointed day he
would present himself before the court in Paris, and would give up to
Philip the two castles of Tillières and Boutavant as security for his
abiding by the settlement then to be made. The day however came and
went without either the surrender of the forts or the appearance of
John.[2035] The court of the French peers condemned him by default,
and sentenced him to be deprived of all his lands.[2036]
[2020] _Ibid._ John was at the Isle June 9–11, and again June
25–27 [1201]. Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a. 3 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
[2021] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
44. Rog. Howden as above; on the date see Bishop Stubbs’s note
1, _ibid._
[2022] Rog. Howden as above. The purpose was to settle with her
about her dowry; _ibid._, and p. 172 and note 2.
[2023] See Hardy as above.
[2024] Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. p. 167.
[2025] Rigord as above. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._
(_ibid._), p. 81. Rog. Howden as above, pp. 146–148.
[2026] Strictly speaking, its future head. The elder Hugh,
father of Isabel’s bridegroom, lived till 1206.
[2027] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. vi. (Duchesne, as above), p.
159. This was Ralf of Issoudun, a brother of the elder Hugh,
and count of Eu in right of his wife.
[2028] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 176.
[2029] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 135. Will. Armor. _Gesta
Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
81; _Philipp._, l. vi. (_ibid._) p. 159.
[2030] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 174.
[2031] Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. p. 167.
[2032] “Per proceres regni Francorum.” R. Coggeshall as above.
[2033] _Ib._ pp. 135, 136. The date fixed for the trial--April
29 [1202]--is from Rigord (Duchesne as above), p. 44. This
writer and Will. Armor. (_Gesta Phil. Aug._ as above) give a
version somewhat different from Ralf’s, saying that Philip
summoned John to do right to Philip himself for the counties of
Anjou, Touraine and Poitou. William however in the _Philipp._
(as above) substantially agrees with the English writer as to
the ground of Philip’s complaint.
[2034] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 136.
[2035] Will. Armor. as above, pp. 81, 161.
[2036] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 136.
Philip at once marched upon Normandy to execute the sentence by force
of arms. He began by taking Boutavant[2037] and Tillières;[2038]
thence he marched straight up northward by Lions,[2039] Longchamp, La
Ferté-en-Bray,[2040] Orgueil and Mortemer,[2041] to Eu;[2042] all these
places fell into his hands. Thus master of almost the whole Norman
border from the Seine to the sea, he turned back to lay siege on July
8 to Radepont on the Andelle, scarcely more than ten miles from Rouen.
Dislodged at the end of a week by John,[2043] he again withdrew to the
border. The castle of Aumale and the rest of its county were soon in
his hands.[2044] Hugh of Gournay alone, the worthy bearer of a name
which for generations had been almost a synonym for loyalty to the
Norman ducal house, still held out in his impregnable castle; Philip
however, by breaking down the embankment which kept in the waters of
a reservoir communicating with the river and the moat, let loose upon
the castle a flood which undermined its walls and almost swept it away,
thus compelling its defenders to make their escape and take shelter as
best they could in the neighbouring forest.[2045] At Gournay Philip
bestowed upon Arthur the hand of his infant daughter Mary,[2046] the
honour of knighthood,[2047] and the investiture of all the Angevin
dominions except the duchy of Normandy,[2048] which he evidently
intended to conquer for himself and keep by right of conquest.
[2037] _Ibid._ Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. p. 168. Rigord
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 45. Will.
Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 81; _Philipp._,
l. vi. (_ibid._), p. 161. Boutavant was a small fortress
built by Richard in 1198, on the Seine, four miles above
Château-Gaillard, on the border-line between Normandy and
France (Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ as above. Rog. Howden,
Stubbs, vol. iv. p. 78). Philip had retorted by building hard
by it a rival fortress which he called Gouleton (Rog. Howden
as above)--the scene of his treaty with John in May 1202; see
above, p. 396.
[2038] Will. Armor. as above.
[2039] Rog. Wend. and Will. Armor. _Philipp._ as above.
[2040] Will. Armor. as above.
[2041] _Ibid._ _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 81. Rigord
(_ibid._), p. 45.
[2042] Rog. Wend. as above.
[2043] _Ibid._ p. 167; he says Philip besieged Radepont for
eight days. John got there on July 15; Hardy, _Itin. K. John_,
a. 4 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
[2044] R. Coggeshall as above.
[2045] Rog. Wend. as above, pp. 167, 168. Will. Armor. _Gesta
Phil. Aug._ as above; _Philipp._ (_ibid._), pp. 161, 162.
[2046] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ as above, p. 82;
_Philipp._ (_ibid._), p. 162. Cf. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson),
p. 137. Mary (or Jane, as Rigord calls her) was one of the two
children of Agnes of Merania, legitimatized by Innocent III.;
cf. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 81, and Rigord (_ibid._), p. 44.
[2047] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 137. Rigord as above,
p. 45; Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 82;
_Philipp._ (_ibid._), p. 162. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p.
94, says that Arthur was knighted by Philip when he first did
him homage in 1199.
[2048] Rigord as above. The order of the campaign above
described is not easy to make out, for no two contemporary
writers name the castles in the same order. Taking geography
for a guide, it would at first glance seem more natural that
Philip should have gone to Radepont from Tillières, and that
the whole northward expedition should come afterwards. But
it is certain that the siege of Radepont happened July 8–15
(see above, p. 403, note 8{2043}); and on the one hand, the
northern campaign, or at any rate part of it, seems needed to
fill up the interval between the breaking-out of the war at the
beginning of May and July 8; while on the other, it seems
impossible to crowd in the whole campaign between July 15 and
the knighting of Arthur, which clearly took place before that
month had expired. Lions, however, was not taken till after May
29, for on that day John was there; Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a.
4 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
What John had been doing all this time it is difficult to understand.
Between the middle of May and the end of June he had shifted his
quarters incessantly, moving through the whole length of eastern
Normandy, from Arques to Le Mans; throughout July he was chiefly in
the neighbourhood of Rouen;[2049] but, except in the one expedition to
Radepont, he seems to have made no attempt to check the progress of his
enemies. After the knighting of Arthur at Gournay, however, he tried to
make a diversion by sending a body of troops into Britanny. With their
duchess dead[2050] and their young duke absent, the Bretons were in no
condition for defence; Dol and Fougères were taken by John’s soldiers,
and the whole country ravaged as far as Rennes.[2051] This attack stung
Arthur into an attempt at independent action which led to his ruin. He
and Philip divided their forces; while the French king led the bulk
of his army northward to the siege of Arques,[2052] Arthur with two
hundred knights[2053] moved southward to Tours,[2054] sending forward
a summons to the men of his own duchy and those of Berry to meet him
there for an expedition into Poitou.[2055] At Tours he was met by the
disaffected Aquitanian chiefs:--the injured bridegroom young Hugh of La
Marche, and two of his uncles, Ralf of Issoudun the dispossessed count
of Eu, and Geoffrey of Lusignan, the inveterate fighter who had taken a
leading part in every Aquitanian rising throughout the last twenty-two
years of Henry’s reign, who after being Richard’s bitterest foe at home
had been one of his best supporters in Palestine, and who had come
back, it seems, to join in one more fight against his successor. The
three kinsmen, however, brought together a force of only seventy-five
knights; to which a Gascon baron, Savaric of Mauléon, added thirty
more, and seventy men-at-arms.[2056] Arthur, mere boy of fifteen though
he was, had enough of the hereditary Angevin wariness to shrink from
attempting to act with such a small force, and in accordance with
Philip’s instructions proposed to wait for his expected allies.[2057]
But the Poitevins would brook no delay; and a temptation now offered
itself which was irresistible alike to them and to their young leader.
On her return from Castille with her granddaughter Blanche in the
spring of 1200, Queen Eleanor, worn out with age and fatigue, had
withdrawn to the abbey of Fontevraud,[2058] where she apparently
remained throughout the next two years. The rising troubles of her
duchy, however, seem to have brought her forth from her retirement
once more, and she was now in the castle of Mirebeau, on the border
of Anjou and Poitou. All John’s enemies knew that his mother was, in
every sense, his best friend. She was at once his most devoted ally and
his most sagacious counsellor, at least in all continental affairs;
moreover, in strict feudal law, she was still duchess of Aquitaine in
her own right, a right untouched by the forfeiture of John; and she
therefore had it in her power to make that forfeiture null and void
south of the Loire, so long as she lived to assert her claims for
John’s benefit.[2059] To capture Eleanor would be to bring John to his
knees; and with this hope Arthur and his little band laid siege to
Mirebeau.[2060]
[2049] See Hardy, as above, a. 3, 4 (_ibid._)
[2050] Constance died September 3 or 4, 1201. Chronn. Britt.
_ad ann._ (Morice, _Hist. Bret., preuves_, vol. i. cols. 6,
106).
[2051] Will. Armor. _Philipp._ as above, p. 163. In the _Gesta
Phil. Aug._ (as above) he places this after Arthur’s capture.
In both works he says that _John_ did all this in Britanny;
but Hardy’s _Itinerary_ (as above) shews that John did it
vicariously.
[2052] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
45. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 138. Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol.
iii. p. 169.
[2053] Rog. Wend., as above, p. 168.
[2054] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. vi. (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 162. Rigord as above.
[2055] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne as above), p.
82. To the Bretons and the men of Berry he adds “Allobroges.”
What can they have had to do in the case, or what can he mean
by the name?
[2056] Will. Armor. _Philipp._ as above. He says Geoffrey
brought twenty picked knights, Ralf forty, and Hugh fifteen. R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 137, makes the total force of Arthur
and the Poitevins together two hundred and fifty knights.
[2057] Will. Armor, as above, p. 163.
[2058] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 114.
[2059] On the relations of Eleanor, John, and Aquitaine see
Bishop Stubbs’s note to W. Coventry, vol. ii., pref. p.
xxxiv, note 1. His conclusion is that “certainly the legal
difficulties were much greater than Philip’s hasty sentences of
forfeiture could solve.”
[2060] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. vi. (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 164; _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p.
82. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 137. Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol.
iii. p. 168.
John, however, when once roused, could act with all the vigour and
promptitude of his race. On July 30, as he was approaching Le Mans,
he received tidings of his mother’s danger; on August 1 he suddenly
appeared before Mirebeau.[2061] The town was already lost, all the
gates of the castle save one were broken down, and Eleanor had been
driven to take refuge in the keep; the besiegers, thinking their
triumph assured, were surprised and overpowered by John’s troops,
and were slain or captured to a man, the Lusignans and Arthur
himself being among the prisoners.[2062] Philip, who was busy with
the siege of Arques, left it and hurried southward on hearing of
this disaster;[2063] John however at once put an end to his hopes of
rescuing Arthur by sending the boy to prison at Falaise;[2064] and
Philip, after taking and burning Tours,[2065] withdrew into his own
domains.[2066] John in his turn then marched upon Tours, and vented
his wrath at its capture by completing its destruction.[2067] Shortly
afterwards he had the good luck to make prisoner another disaffected
Aquitanian noble, the viscount of Limoges.[2068] It was however
growing evident that he would soon have nothing but his own resources
to depend upon. His allies were falling away; the counts of Flanders,
Blois and Perche and several of the other malcontent French barons
had taken the cross and abandoned the field of western politics to
seek their fortunes in the East;[2069] he had quarrelled with Otto of
Germany;[2070] William des Roches, after pleading in vain for Arthur’s
release, was organizing a league of the Breton nobles which some of
the Norman border-chiefs were quite ready to join, and by the end of
October the party thus formed was strong enough to seize Angers and
establish its head-quarters there.[2071] It was probably the knowledge
of all this which in the beginning of 1203 made John transfer his
captive nephew from the castle of Falaise to that of Rouen.[2072]
Sinister rumours of Arthur’s fate were already in circulation, telling
how John had sent a ruffian to blind him at Falaise, how the soldiers
who kept him had frustrated the design, and how their commandant,
John’s chamberlain Hubert de Burgh, had endeavoured to satisfy the king
by giving out that Arthur had died of wounds and grief and ordering
funeral services in his memory, till the threats of the infuriated
Bretons drove him to confess the fraud for the sake of John’s own
safety.[2073] How or when Arthur really died has never yet been clearly
proved. We only know that at Easter 1203 all France was ringing with
the tidings of his death, and that after that date he was never
seen alive. In his uncle’s interest an attempt was made to suggest
that he had either pined to death in his prison, or been drowned in
endeavouring to escape across the Seine;[2074] but the general belief,
which John’s after-conduct tends strongly to confirm, was that he
had been stabbed and then flung into the river by the orders, if not
actually by the hands, of John himself.[2075]
[2061] These dates are given by John himself in a letter to the
barons of England, inserted by R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp.
137, 138. Hardy’s _Itin. K. John_, a. 4 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_),
shews John at Bonport on July 30, and then gives no further
indication of his whereabouts till August 4, when he appears at
Chinon.
[2062] R. Coggeshall as above. Rog. Wend., as above, p. 169.
Cf. Rigord (Duchesne as above), p. 45; Will. Armor. _Gesta
Phil. Aug._ as above; and _Philipp_, (_ibid._), pp. 164, 165.
According to this last, John got into Mirebeau by night, by a
fraudulent negotiation with William des Roches.
[2063] Rog. Wend., Rigord, and Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._,
as above.
[2064] Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. pp. 169, 170. Will. Armor.
_Philipp._, l. vi. (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol.
v.), p. 165.
[2065] Rigord (Duchesne, as above), p. 45. Will. Armor. _Gesta
Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 82.
[2066] Rog. Wend. (as above), p. 170. He adds “residuum anni
illius imbellis peregit.”
[2067] Rigord as above. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ as
above. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 138.
[2068] Rigord as above. This was Guy, son and successor to
Ademar, who had been slain in 1199 by Richard’s son Philip in
vengeance for the quarrel which had led to Richard’s death.
Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. p. 97.
[2069] Rigord and Will. Armor, as above.
[2070] In 1200 Otto had demanded the lands and the jewels
bequeathed to him by Richard; John had refused to give them up.
Rog. Howden as above, p. 116.
[2071] Chron. S. Albin. a. 1202 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 51).
R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 139. The former gives the date,
Wednesday before All Saints’ day.
[2072] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 143. Rog. Wend., as above.
Will. Armor. _Philipp._ as above, p. 166.
[2073] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 139–141.
[2074] Mat. Paris, _Hist. Angl._ (Madden), vol. ii. p. 95.
[2075] On Arthur’s death see note at end of chapter.
The fire which had been smouldering throughout the winter in Britanny
now burst into a blaze. The barons and prelates of the duchy, it
is said, held a meeting at Vannes, and thence sent to the king of
France, as overlord alike of Arthur and of John, their demand for a
judicial inquisition before the peers of the realm--that is, before
the supreme feudal court of France--into John’s dealings with their
captive duke.[2076] A citation was accordingly sent to John, as duke
of Normandy, either to present Arthur alive,[2077] or to come and
stand his trial before the French king’s court on a charge of murder.
John neither appeared nor sent any defence; the court pronounced him
worthy of death, and sentenced him and his heirs to forfeiture of all
the lands and honours which he held of the Crown of France.[2078] The
trial seems to have been held shortly after Easter. The legal force
of the sentence need not be discussed here.[2079] Its moral justice
can hardly be disputed, so far as John himself is concerned; and
Philip’s action did little more than precipitate the consequences
which must sooner or later have naturally resulted from John’s own
deed. John in committing a great crime had committed an almost greater
blunder. Arthur’s death left him indeed without a rival in his own
house. It left him sole survivor, in the male line, alike of the
Angevin and Cenomannian counts and of the ducal house of Normandy.
Even in the female line there was no one who could be set up against
him as representative of either race. Eleanor of Britanny, the only
remaining child of his brother Geoffrey, was a prisoner in her uncle’s
keeping. The sons of his sister Matilda had cast in their lot with
their father’s country and severed all ties with their mother’s people;
the children of his sister Eleanor were still more complete strangers
to the political interests of northern Gaul, and the only one of them
who was known there at all was known only as the wife of the heir to
the French crown. But these very facts set John face to face with a
more dangerous rival than any of the ambitious kinsmen with whom the
two Williams or the two Henrys had had to contend. They drove his
disaffected subjects to choose between submission to him and submission
to Philip Augustus. The barons of Anjou, of Maine, of Britanny or of
Normandy had no longer any chance of freeing themselves from the yoke
of the king from over-sea who had become a stranger to them all alike,
save by accepting in its stead the yoke of the king with whom they had
grown familiar through years of political and personal intercourse, and
whom, in theory at least, even their own rulers had always acknowledged
as their superior. Anjou, Maine and Britanny had all resolved upon
Richard’s death that they would not have John to rule over them;
Normandy was now fast coming to the same determination. Under the
existing circumstances it would cost them little or no sacrifice to
accept their titular overlord as their real and immediate sovereign. So
long as Arthur lived, Philip had been compelled to veil his ambition
under a shew of zeal for Arthur’s rights; now he could fling aside
the veil, and present himself almost in the character of a deliverer.
If the barons did not actually hail him as such, they were at any rate
for the most part not unwilling to leave to him the responsibility of
accomplishing their deliverance, and to accept it quietly from his
hands.
[2076] Le Baud, _Hist. de Bretagne_, pp. 209, 210, with a
reference to Robert Blondel, a writer of the fifteenth century.
On the value of this account see Bishop Stubbs, pref. to W.
Coventry, vol. ii. p. xxxii, note 3.
[2077] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 143–145.
[2078] Proclamation of Louis of France, a. 1216, in Rymer,
_Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 140. Ann. Margam, a. 1204 (Luard, _Ann.
Monast._, vol. i. p. 27). Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. p. 373.
Le Baud as above, p. 210. Stubbs, _W. Coventry_, vol. ii. pref.
p. xxxii.
[2079] Bishop Stubbs’s remark (_W. Coventry_, vol. ii. pref. p.
xxxiv, note 1), quoted above, p. 406, note 1{2058}, applies to
this case also. On the vexed question as to the composition of
the court I do not feel bound to enter here at all.
Philip took the field as soon as the forfeiture was proclaimed.
Within a fortnight after Easter he had taken Saumur[2080] and entered
Aquitaine; there he seems to have spent some weeks in taking sundry
castles, with the help of the Bretons and the malcontent Poitevin
nobles.[2081] One great Norman baron, the viscount of Beaumont, had
already openly joined the league against John;[2082] and as Philip
turned northward again, the count of Alençon formally placed himself
and all his lands at the disposal of the French king.[2083] Thus
secure of a strong foothold on the southern frontier of Normandy,
and already by his last year’s conquests master of its north-eastern
border from Eu to Gisors, Philip set himself to win the intervening
territory--the remnant of the viscounty of Evreux. One by one its
castles--Conches,[2084] Vaudreuil[2085] and many others--fell into
his hands. Messenger after messenger came to John as he sat idle in
his palace at Rouen,[2086] all charged with the same story: “The king
of France is in your land as an enemy, he is taking your castles, he
is binding your seneschals to their horses’ tails and leading them
shamefully to prison, and he is dealing with your goods according to
his own will and pleasure.” “Let him alone,” John answered them all
alike; “I shall win back some day all that he is taking from me now.”
The barons who still clave to him grew exasperated as they watched
his unmoved face and heard his unvarying reply; some of them began to
attribute his indifference to the effects of magic; all, finding it
impossible to break the spell, turned away from him in despair. One by
one they took their leave and withdrew to their homes, either passively
to await the end, or actively to join Philip. Even Hugh of Gournay, who
had held out so bravely and so faithfully a year ago, now voluntarily
gave up his castle of Montfort.[2087] Not till near the middle of
August did John make any warlike movement; then he suddenly laid siege
to Alençon; but at Philip’s approach he fled in a panic;[2088] an
attempt to regain Brezolles ended in like manner,[2089] and John
relapsed into his former inactivity. That the conqueror did not march
straight to the capture of Rouen, that he in fact made no further
progress towards it for six whole months, was owing not to John but to
his predecessor. Richard’s favourite capital was safe, so long as it
was sheltered behind the group of fortifications crowned by his “saucy
castle” on the Rock of Andely.
[2080] Chron. S. Albin. a. 1203 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 52).
[2081] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.),
p. 46. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 82; both
under a wrong year, viz. 1202 instead of 1203.
[2082] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 139.
[2083] Rigord and Will. Armor. as above.
[2084] Rigord as above.
[2085] _Ibid._ R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 143.
[2086] John was not literally there all the while; but he only
quitted it for short excursions, never going further than
Moulineaux, Pont-de-l’Arche, Orival or Montfort, from the
middle of May till the beginning of August, when he suddenly
went as far west as Caen, and thence as suddenly south again to
Falaise and Alençon. Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a. 5 (_Intr. Pat.
Rolls_).
[2087] Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. pp. 171, 172.
[2088] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 82. John was at Alençon August 11–15;
Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a. 5 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
[2089] Will. Armor. as above.
Upon the winning of Château-Gaillard, therefore, Philip now
concentrated all his energies and all his skill. There was no hope
of voluntary surrender here; John had given the fortress in charge
to Roger de Lacy the constable of Chester, an English baron who had
no stake in Normandy, whose private interests were therefore bound
up with those of the English king, and who was moreover a man of
dauntless courage and high military capacity.[2090] The place was only
to be won by a regular siege. Crossing the Seine higher up, perhaps
at Vernon, Philip led his troops along its left bank, and encamped
in the peninsula formed by the bend of the river just opposite Les
Andelys. The garrison of the fort in the Isle of Andely no sooner
beheld his approach than they destroyed the bridge between the island
and the left bank. Philip was thus deprived of the means not only of
reaching them, but also of opening communications with the opposite
shore; for this could only be done with safety at some point below
Château-Gaillard, and the transport of the materials needful for the
construction of a bridge or pontoon was barred by the stockade which
crossed the river-bed directly under the foot of the castle-rock. The
daring of a few young Frenchmen, however, soon cleared this obstacle
away. While the king brought up his engines close to the water’s edge
and kept the garrison of the island-fort occupied with the exchange
of a constant fire of missiles, a youth named Gaubert of Mantes with
a few bold comrades plunged into the water, each with an axe in his
hand, and, regardless of the stones and arrows which kept falling upon
them from both sides, hewed at the stockade till they had made a breach
wide enough for boats to pass through in safety. A number of the broad
flat-bottomed barges used for transport were then hastily collected
from the neighbouring riverside towns, and moored side by side across
the stream; these served as the foundation of a wooden bridge, which
was further supported with stakes and strengthened with towers, and
by means of which Philip himself, with the larger part of his host,
crossed the river to form a new encampment under the walls of the
Lesser Andely. The garrison of the Isle were thus placed between two
fires;[2091] and the whole Vexin was laid open as a foraging-ground for
the besieging army, while the occupants of the Lesser Andely and of
Château-Gaillard itself found their communications and their supplies
cut off on all sides.[2092]
[2090] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 144. Rog. Wend. as above,
p. 180.
[2091] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), pp. 82, 83; _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 86–131
(_ib._ p. 170; Deville, _Château-Gaillard_, pp. 127–129).
[2092] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 132–139 (Duchesne,
p. 170; Deville, p. 129).
John was now again hovering about at a safe distance in the
neighbourhood.[2093] To the peril of Château-Gaillard his fatuous
indifference was at last beginning to yield. A year ago he had shewn
some appreciation of his brother’s work, by making an addition to
the buildings in the second ward;[2094] and he had shewn his sense
of the military importance of the place yet more significantly, by
appointing Roger de Lacy as its commander. He now gathered up all his
remaining forces--still, it seems, a formidable array[2095]--with
the apparent intention of dislodging the French from Les Andelys. As
Philip’s biographer remarks, however, John feared and hated the light;
he resolved, according to his wont, upon a night attack; and even that
attack he did not lead in person.[2096] He intrusted its command indeed
to a far braver man than himself, but a man who was better fitted for
action in the light of day than for such deeds of darkness as John
delighted in. William the Marshal, the favourite comrade-in-arms of
the younger King Henry, the faithful friend and servant of the elder
one even unto death, the honoured minister of Richard, still clave
to the last survivor of the house which he had loved so long and so
well. To him John confided his plan for the relief of Les Andelys.
The marshal was to lead a force of three hundred knights, three
thousand mounted serving-men and four thousand foot, with a band of
mercenaries under a chief called Lupicar,[2097] along the left bank of
the Seine, and to fall under cover of darkness upon the French camp
in the peninsula. Meanwhile seventy transport-vessels, constructed by
Richard to serve either for sea or river-traffic, and as many more as
could be collected, were to be laden with provisions for the besieged
garrison of the Isle, and convoyed up the river by a flotilla of
small war-ships, manned by pirates[2098] under a chief named Alan,
and carrying, besides their own daring and reckless crews, a force of
three thousand Flemings. Two hundred strokes of the oar, John reckoned,
would bring these ships to the French pontoon; they must break it if
they could; if not, they could at least co-operate with the land-forces
under the Marshal in cutting off the northern division of the French
army from its comrades and supplies on the left bank, and throw into
the island-fort provisions enough to save it from the necessity of
surrender till John himself should come to its relief.
[2093] “Non multum distabat a loco illo” says Will. Armor.
_Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, as above), p. 83. The date must
fall between August 16, when John was at Alençon, and September
5, when he was at Bonneville. His whereabouts during the
interval vary between Chambrai, Trianon, Montfort and Rouen.
Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a. 5 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
[2094] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 84; _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 737–746
(_ib._ p. 181; Deville, _Château-Gaillard_, p. 145).
[2095] “Maximum congregaverat exercitum.” Will. Armor. _Gesta
Phil. Aug._, as above, p. 83.
[2096] _Ibid._; _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 140–143, 188–194 (_ib._
pp. 170, 171; Deville as above, pp. 129, 130).
[2097] On this man see Géraud, _Les Routiers_ (_Bibl. de
l’Ecole des Chartes_, ser. i. vol. iii. p. 132). In his
native tongue he was called “Lobar”; in Latin he appears
as “Lupicarius,” “Lupescarus,” “Lupatius.” M. Géraud calls
him in French “Louvart”; the name was doubtless an assumed
one, meaning “wolf.” He was a fellow-countryman and old
comrade-in-arms of Mercadier; Mat. Paris introduces them both
at once, in 1196, as “natione Provinciales”--“qui duces fuerunt
catervæ quam ruttam vocamus, militantes sub comite Johanne
regis fratre.” _Chron. Maj._ (Luard), vol. ii. p. 421. Lupicar
however had made his first historical appearance some years
earlier than Mercadier, as a leader of the Brabantines in the
Limousin, about 1177. See Geoff. Vigeois, l. i. c. 70 (Labbe,
_Nova Biblioth._, vol. ii. p. 324).
[2098] It seems a strange return to long-past times to hear
of “_pirates_” sailing up the Seine to attack a king of the
French. Of what nationality are these men likely to have been?
The flower of the French host, as John knew, had crossed the river
with its king. Those who remained in the peninsula were hampered
by the presence of a crowd of unwarlike serving-men, sutlers and
camp-followers, many of whom, after spending the day in drunken
revelry, were lying asleep in the fields outside the camp. The night
was drawing to its close--for the cock had crowed thrice--when the
Marshal’s troops fell upon these sleepers and slew more than two
hundred of them as they lay. The soldiers within the camp quickly
caught the alarm; in their terror they rushed to the pontoon in such
numbers that it broke under their weight, and they sought safety in
swimming across the river to join their comrades on the opposite
shore. These however had now been aroused by the tumult; the bravest
of the French knights, headed by William des Barres, confronted the
fugitives with indignant reproaches for their cowardice, and drove
them back across the stream. By the light of torches and fires,
hastily kindled, the whole host was soon got under arms, the bridge
repaired, and the Marshal’s troops, surprised in their turn while
groping about in the darkness of the deserted camp, were routed with
heavy loss. The victors, thinking the fight was over, went back to
their sleeping-quarters, but had scarcely reached them when they
were roused up again, to see, in the dim light of the August sunrise,
the hostile fleet bearing down upon them. In a few minutes the two
river-banks and the pontoon were lined with armed Frenchmen. Still
the boats held on their course till the foremost of them touched the
bridge; and despite a ceaseless shower of arrows from either shore, and
of stones, iron missiles, and boiling oil and pitch from the engines
mounted on the wooden turrets of the bridge, the crews began to hew
at the cables and stakes in a desperate effort to break it down, and
kept its defenders at bay till the Seine ran red with blood. At last an
enormously heavy oaken beam fell directly upon the two foremost ships
and sank them. The rest, stricken with sudden terror, rowed away in
disorder as fast as oars could move them. Gaubert of Mantes and three
other gallant French sailors sprang each into a little boat, set off in
pursuit, and succeeded in capturing two of the fugitive ships, which
they brought back in tow, with their stores and all of their crews who
survived.[2099] The delay in the arrival of the fleet, caused by the
difficulties of navigation in the Seine,[2100] had ruined John’s plan
for the relief of the Isle of Andely. The fate of its garrison was soon
decided; and again the hero of the day was Gaubert of Mantes. The fort
was encircled by a double palisade or rampart of wood, outside the
walls. Gaubert tied a rope round his waist, took in his hand two iron
vessels coated with pitch and filled with burning charcoal,[2101] swam
to the easternmost point of the island, which the garrison, trusting
to the proximity of Château-Gaillard on this side, had ventured to
leave unguarded, and threw these missiles against the palisade. The
wood instantly caught fire; the wind carried the flames all round the
ramparts and into the fort itself. Some of the garrison made their
escape by swimming or on rafts; some were stifled in the cellars
and galleries in which they sought a refuge from the fire; the rest
surrendered to the French king. Philip lost no time in repairing and
garrisoning the fort and rebuilding the bridge on its western side. At
the sight of his success the whole population of the Lesser Andely fled
in a body to Château-Gaillard; Philip entered the town in triumph, sent
for new inhabitants to fill the places of the fugitives, and intrusted
its defence to two companies of mercenaries, whose strength may be
estimated from the statement that the leader of one of them, Cadoc by
name, received from the royal treasury a thousand pounds daily for
himself and his men.[2102]
[2099] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 144–335 (Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. pp. 171–174; Deville,
_Château-Gaillard_, pp. 129–134). Cf. _Gesta Phil. Aug._
(Duchesne as above), p. 83.
[2100] Will. Armor. as above, vv. 206, 207 (Duchesne as above,
p. 172; Deville as above, p. 131).
[2101] See Deville’s note, _Château-Gaillard_, p. 66.
[2102] Will. Armor., _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 336–398 (Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. pp. 174, 175; Deville,
_Château-Gaillard_, pp. 134–136). Cf. _Gesta Phil. Aug._
(Duchesne as above), p. 83.
Philip’s mastery of the river was still precarious and incomplete
without the reduction of Château-Gaillard. For an attack upon the Saucy
Castle itself, however, his courage seems as yet to have failed; and
striking north-westward by the road which leads from Les Andelys into
the valley of the Andelle, on the last day of August he again sat down
before Radepont. In two or three weeks it surrendered.[2103] This time
John made no attempt to save it, but fled away to the depths of his own
old county of Mortain,[2104] leaving Rouen to its fate. Philip however
dared not advance upon Rouen with Château-Gaillard still unconquered
in his rear; and at the opening of the vintage-season he moved back
to Les Andelys and girded himself up for his task. A brief survey of
the Rock convinced him that assault was well-nigh hopeless; his best
chance was in a blockade. On the north the Lesser Andely occupied by
his mercenaries, on the west the river commanded by his troops in
the island-fort, sufficed to imprison the garrison. The next step
was to dig out a double trench two hundred feet deep, starting from
the brow of the hill over against the south-eastern extremity of the
castle-rock, extending northward to the margin of the lake of Andely
and westward to the bank of the Seine, and completely enclosing the two
ravines which furrowed the sides of the rock. Each line of entrenchment
was garnished with seven _bretasches_ or wooden forts, placed at
regular intervals, each surrounded by a ditch of its own, furnished
with a wooden draw-bridge, and filled with as many soldiers as it could
hold. The rest of the army took up their quarters in the trenches,
where they built themselves little huts of wood and thatch for a
shelter against the wet and cold of the coming winter--shelter against
other foes they needed none, for they were out of bowshot from the
castle[2105]--and whiled away their time in jesting and making songs in
mockery of the straits to which the Saucy Castle was reduced--“So many
thousands girt about with a single girdle,”--“The eyrie overcrowded
with nestlings, who will have to turn out when the spring comes.”[2106]
The greater part of the “nestlings” were turned out before the
spring came. The blockade once formed, Roger de Lacy soon perceived
the terrible blunder he had made in admitting within his walls the
townsfolk of the Lesser Andely. According to one computation, the
number of these non-combatants now huddled within the castle-enclosure
was no less than two thousand two hundred souls; at the lowest
reckoning, they seem to have amounted to fourteen hundred--all, in a
military point of view, simply useless mouths, devouring in a few weeks
the stores of food that should have furnished rations for a year and
more to the little garrison which was amply sufficient to hold the
castle for John. One day, therefore, Roger opened the castle-gate and
turned out five hundred of the oldest and weakest. They were suffered
to pass unmolested through the blockading lines, and were followed a
few days later by five hundred more. Philip however, who meanwhile had
returned to his own dominions, no sooner heard what was going on than
he issued strict orders that every man, woman or child, of whatever age
or condition, who might issue from the castle should be driven back
again without mercy. A large number still remained of whom Roger was
as eager to be rid as Philip was anxious that he should be obliged to
keep them. He took account of his stores, and found that he had enough
to feed the regular garrison for a whole year. Hereupon he called
together all the remaining non-combatants, and sent them forth, as they
thought, to rejoin their families and friends. To their horror, as
soon as they approached the French lines, they were overwhelmed with a
volley of arrows. They rushed back to the castle-gate, only to find it
closed against them. For three months this multitude of people dragged
out a wretched existence in the ravines around the fortress, with no
shelter against the wet and the cold but what they might find in the
clefts of the rock, and no food but the dry leaves and scant herbage
which they could pick up at its foot, and the flesh of the dogs which
the garrison soon let loose for the purpose of yet further economizing
their rations. This last resource was exhausted, and the horrors of
cannibalism were already reached, when Philip came back to see how the
siege was progressing. As he was crossing the bridge to the island-fort
these unhappy beings caught sight of him and lifted up their voices in
agonizing appeal; the king, moved with a tardy compassion, and perhaps
also by fear of the not improbable outbreak of a pestilence which might
easily have spread into his own entrenchments, ordered that immediate
relief should be given to all who survived. These however amounted to
no more than half of the original number, which seems to have been
something over four hundred; and most of them had been so long without
food that their first meal proved fatal.[2107]
[2103] Rigord (Duchesne as above), p. 47, says the siege of
Radepont began on the last day of August and lasted fifteen
days. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 82, makes
it last three weeks; in _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 399, 400 (_ib._
p. 175; Deville, _Château-Gaillard_, p. 136), he extends its
duration to a month.
[2104] He went to Falaise on September 13--the day after the
fall of Radepont, according to Rigord’s reckoning. Thence he
went on the 17th to Mortain, on the 19th to Dol, and back to
Mortain again on the 22d. Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a. 5 (_Intr.
Pat. Rolls_).
[2105] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), pp. 83, 84; _Philipp._, l. vii. vv.
414–450 (_ib._ pp. 175, 176; Deville, _Château-Gaillard_, pp.
136, 137).
[2106] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 451–456 (Duchesne,
p. 176; Deville, p. 137).
[2107] Cf. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist.
Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 84, and _Philipp._, l. vii. vv.
467–606 (_ib._ pp. 176–179; Deville, _Château-Gaillard_, pp.
138–142).
The last act of this tragedy must have taken place soon after
Christmas. For three months the whole military power of the French
Crown had been concentrated on the investment of Château-Gaillard; and
in all this time John had done absolutely nothing. From his expedition
to the Breton border he had indeed returned to Rouen for a few days in
the beginning of October. Not a hand did he lift, however, to check
the progress of the blockade which was being formed almost before his
eyes. Soon he was again far away in the Bessin; thence he suddenly
moved across the duchy to Verneuil, and in the second week of November
he was once more at Rouen.[2108] It was probably during one of these
visits to the capital that he wrote to Roger de Lacy: “We thank you
for your good and faithful service, and desire that, as much as in
you lies, you will persevere in the fealty and homage which you owe
us, that you may receive a worthy meed of praise from God and from
ourselves, and from all who know your fidelity to us. If, however,
which God forbid, you should find yourselves in such straits that you
can hold out no longer, then do whatsoever our trusty and well-beloved
Peter of Préaux, William of Mortemer and Hugh of Howels our clerk
shall bid you in our name.”[2109] Whether this letter ever found its
way through the blockading lines into the castle it is scarcely worth
while to inquire. If it did, it failed to shake the courage or the
loyalty of the garrison, although it must have proved to them what they
doubtless guessed already, that their sovereign had forsaken them, and
that they were serving him for nought. Of the crowning proof of his
desertion they probably remained unconscious until all was over for
them. After dismantling Pont-de-l’Arche, Moulineaux and Montfort,[2110]
John, on November 12, again left Rouen; for three weeks he flitted
aimlessly up and down the country, from Bonneville and Caen to Domfront
and Vire, and back again to Barfleur and Cherbourg;[2111] on December
6 he quitted Normandy altogether;[2112] and while the burghers of
the Lesser Andely were starving and freezing to death in the valleys
round Château-Gaillard, and the garrison of the castle were anxiously
reckoning how much longer their provisions would enable them to hold
out for his sake, he was keeping his Christmas feast at Canterbury at
the expense of Archbishop Hubert.[2113]
[2108] Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a. 5 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
[2109] Letter in Duchesne, _Hist. Norm. Scriptt._, p. 1059.
[2110] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 826–828 (Deville,
_Château-Gaillard_, pp. 147, 148; Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v. p. 182).
[2111] Hardy as above.
[2112] Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. p. 173, says he landed at
Portsmouth on S. Nicolas’s day. The _Itinerary_ (as above)
shews him at Barfleur on December 5 and at Portsmouth on the
7th.
[2113] “H. archiepiscopo omnia necessaria festivitati regiæ
ministrante.” Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. p. 174.
By the end of February 1204[2114] Philip grew impatient of the blockade
of Château-Gaillard, and probably also uneasy lest John should
return from England with an overwhelming force for its relief. He
therefore resolved to try whether it could not, after all, be taken
by assault. He himself took up his station at the central point of
the entrenchment, on the crest of the hill, facing the narrow neck
of land by which it was joined to the castle-rock. This isthmus, the
only direct approach to the castle itself, he caused to be levelled
and widened till he could erect upon it a wooden gallery or covered
way leading from his own lines up to the edge of the outermost ditch
of the fortress. When, with considerable difficulty and loss of life,
this was accomplished, he caused a _beffroy_ or wooden tower on wheels
to be carried through the gallery, set up when it reached the further
end, and moved along the edge of the fosse, the cross-bowmen with whom
it was filled doing deadly execution upon the soldiers on the ramparts,
who however made a gallant defence. Meanwhile, the French were bringing
through their covered way earth, wood, stones, turf, everything they
could find to fill up the ditch. Before it was half full they lost
patience and adopted a quicker method of approach. They dropped down
the perpendicular counterscarp by means of their scaling-ladders, and
set these up again on the sloping inner side of the ditch, under the
foot of the great round tower which formed the head of the first ward.
The ladders were too short for the ascent; but despite a heavy fire
of stones and arrows from the tower, the storming-party scrambled up,
crawling on hands and knees, or using their swords and daggers by way
of Alpine-staves, till the base of the wall was reached. Then, while
a shower of missiles rattled down upon the shields held over them by
their comrades, the sappers dug and hewed at the foundations till the
tower was undermined; the fuse was inserted and fired, and the miners
had just had time to withdraw when a large portion of the wall fell
crashing into the ditch. The French rushed to the breach; Roger de
Lacy, seeing that the first ward was lost, ordered the wooden buildings
within it to be fired; he and his men withdrew across the drawbridge
into the second ward, and when the fire died down, they saw the ruined
fragment of the tower crowned by the banner of Cadoc.[2115]
[2114] “Superveniente cathedrâ S. Petri” (February 22). Rigord
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 47.
[2115] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 84; _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 612–726
(_ib._ pp. 179–181; Deville, _Château-Gaillard_, pp. 142–145).
The French were one step nearer to the goal; but the next step looked
as impracticable as ever. Between them and the besieged there yawned
another ditch as wide and deep, there rose another rampart as mighty
and as inaccessible as the first. In vain they prowled about the edge
of the fosse seeking for a point at which they could venture upon an
attack, till a young squire or man-at-arms, by name Peter, but more
commonly known in the camp as “Bogis” or “Snub-nose,” caught sight of
a little window just above the wall at the south-eastern corner of the
rampart.[2116] This window was the sole external opening in John’s new
building, which was otherwise accessible only on the inner side, by two
doors, one leading into the storehouse which formed the lower story,
one into the chapel above it, and both opening towards the courtyard.
Bogis at once communicated his discovery to a few trusty comrades; they
reconnoitred the ditch till they found a somewhat shallower place on
its southern side, where it was possible to scramble down; thence they
crawled along the bottom till they were directly under the window, and
then clambered up the sloping side to the foot of the wall. By standing
on the shoulders of a comrade Bogis managed to reach the window; he
found it unbarred, unguarded, and wide enough for his body to pass
through; he sprang in, let down to his companions a rope which he had
brought for the purpose, and drew them up one by one till they were
all safe inside the building, which proved to be the storehouse under
the chapel.[2117] Finding the door locked, they began to hammer at it
with the hilts of their daggers. This noise and the shouts with which
they accompanied it soon alarmed the garrison. They, thinking that the
French had entered the new building and occupied it in force, hastily
set it on fire; unhappily, the wind caught the flames and spread them
in a few minutes over the whole enclosure. The garrison fled to their
sole remaining refuge, the citadel; Bogis and his companions escaped
out of the blazing ruins into the casemates; the bulk of the French
host, anxiously watching the scene from the opposite side of the ditch,
thought they had all perished; but when the flames died down and the
smoke began to clear away, Bogis himself appeared at the gate and let
down the drawbridge for the army to pass over in triumph.[2118]
[2116] I cannot understand M. Deville’s idea of this window.
In his plan of the castle he marks it about the middle of the
south-western side of John’s building--the side looking towards
the river. But Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (as above), p.
85, says it was “in latere orientali.” And if it had not been
there, how could Bogis, from the foot of the rampart of the
first ward, ever have seen it at all?
[2117] So says M. Deville (_Château-Gaillard_, p. 82),
following the _Philippis_; but in the _Gesta Phil. Aug._
William makes it the chapel, _i.e._ the upper instead of the
lower story. One would naturally expect the solitary window to
be in the chapel rather than in the storehouse under it.
[2118] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug_. (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 85; _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 727–791
(_ib._ pp. 181, 182; Deville, _Château-Gaillard_, pp. 145–147).
Philip’s engines and their own too hastily-kindled fires had made
havoc among the besieged garrison; they were now reduced to a hundred
and eighty fighting-men.[2119] Even this small number, however,
might have sufficed to hold for an indefinite time the remains of
Richard’s matchless fortress, but for one strange error on the part
of the royal architect. Richard had indeed taken the precaution of
making the sole gate of his citadel open not directly towards the
courtyard of the second ward, but at a much less accessible point to
the north-eastward, where only a narrow strip of ground intervened
between the counterscarp of the ditch and the outer rampart. Most
unaccountably, however, instead of furnishing this gate with a
drawbridge, he left a portion of the rock itself to serve as a natural
passage over the ditch hollowed out beneath it. Across this immovable
bridge a machine known by the name of “cat”--a sort of tent upon
wheels, moved by the men inside it--was, as the epic bard of the
siege expresses it, “made to crawl” close up to the gate, which the
sappers, hidden under this shelter, at once began to undermine. Roger
de Lacy, alarmed no doubt by the fate of the first tower which had been
thus dealt with, tried the effect of a countermine, which was so far
successful that the French were for a moment compelled to retire; but
the “cat” was speedily replaced by a mighty engine discharging heavy
stones with immense force. At the third discharge, the wall, undermined
as it was from both sides, suddenly fell in. The French troops poured
through the breach; Roger and his little band were quickly surrounded,
and it was no fault of theirs that they were not slaughtered to a
man, for every one of them refused to yield, and was only disarmed
by main force. The hundred and twenty men-at-arms and thirty-six
knights who still remained were, however, made prisoners without
further bloodshed; and thus, on March 6, 1204, Philip became master of
Château-Gaillard.[2120]
[2119] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. vii. v. 775 (Duchesne as
above, p. 181; Deville, p. 146).
[2120] Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. vii. vv. 792–811
(Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. p. 182; Deville,
_Château-Gaillard_, p. 147). Cf. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne
as above), p. 85. The date is from Rigord (_ibid._), p. 47
(who, however, puts it under a wrong year, 1202), and Rog.
Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. p. 180. This last writer has a wholly
different version of the capture, but it is not worthy of
consideration. The number of prisoners is stated by Will.
Armor. in the _Gesta Phil. Aug._ as forty knights, a hundred
and twenty men-at-arms, “and many others.” (By his own account
in _Philipp._, l. vii. v. 775, these “many” cannot have been
more than twenty. See above, p. 422). Rigord speaks only of the
knights, whom he reduces to thirty-six, saying that four had
been slain during the siege.
On that March day the king of England really lost not only his Saucy
Castle, but his whole continental dominions north of Loire. Thenceforth
all resistance in Normandy was at an end; and in three months the
whole duchy laid itself without a struggle at the victor’s feet. Soon
after John’s departure over sea Philip had opened negotiations with
the citizens of the chief Norman towns, representing to them that the
king of England had deserted them, that he himself was their rightful
overlord and sovereign, and bidding them either receive him as such, or
prepare to be all hanged or flayed alive when he should have overcome
their resistance by force. After some discussion they made a truce
with him for a year, promising that if no succour came from England
within that time, they would submit to him without reserve.[2121] On
the fall of Château-Gaillard they all, together with the constables
of the remaining fortresses throughout John’s trans-marine dominions,
sent messages to John setting forth the difficulties of their position
and remonstrating earnestly with him on his tardiness in coming to
their aid. He bade them look for nothing from him, but do each of them
whatsoever they might think good.[2122] A few weeks later he despatched
the bishops of Norwich and Ely with the earls of Pembroke and Leicester
to see if there was any possibility of coming to terms with the king of
France.[2123] But it was too late. Philip sarcastically retorted that
the first preliminary to peace must be the restoration of Arthur;[2124]
and on the Sunday after Easter he marched again into Normandy. Falaise
surrendered after a week’s siege;[2125] Domfront, Séez, Lisieux, Caen,
Bayeux, Barfleur, Cherbourg, Coutances,[2126] opened their gates at
his mere approach. Meanwhile Guy of Thouars, who had been governing
Britanny since Arthur’s death,[2127] with four hundred knights and
an immense host of Bretons attacked and burned the Mont-St.-Michel,
sacked Avranches, and marched ravaging and burning through the Bessin
to join the king at Caen. Philip sent them back again, together with
the count of Boulogne, William des Barres, a large body of French
knights, and a troop of John’s mercenaries who had changed sides
after the surrender of Falaise, to finish the subjugation of Mortain
and the Avranchin,[2128] while he himself returned to complete his
conquest of eastern Normandy. Only three important places were still
unsubdued there: Arques on the northern coast, Verneuil on the southern
border, and Rouen itself. The three bodies of soldiers and townsfolk
came to a mutual understanding whereby those of the capital, on the
Tuesday in Rogation-week--June 1--made a truce with Philip for thirty
days, stipulating that their brethren at Arques and Verneuil should
receive the same benefit if they applied for it within a certain
time, and promising in the name of all alike that if no succour came
from John within the specified interval, they would give themselves
up unreservedly to the king of France.[2129] None of them, however,
waited for the expiration of the truce. On midsummer-day Rouen opened
its gates;[2130] Arques and Verneuil followed its example,[2131] and
Normandy was won.
[2121] Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. pp. 173, 174.
[2122] _Ib._ pp. 180, 181.
[2123] “Post mediam Quadragesimam,” _i.e._ in the beginning of
April. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 144. The earl of Pembroke
(or Striguil), it will be remembered, was William the Marshal.
[2124] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 145.
[2125] _Ibid._ Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l. viii. (Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. p. 183); _Gesta Phil. Aug._
(_ibid._), p. 85. Rigord (_ibid._), p. 47. The dates come from
the two last, both of whom however make the year 1203 instead
of 1204.
[2126] Cf. Rigord as above; Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._
as above; _Philipp._ l. viii. (_ibid._), pp. 183, 184; and R.
Coggeshall as above.
[2127] As guardian of his own daughter by Constance, the infant
Alice, whom the Bretons and the French recognized as heiress of
Britanny, in place of her half-sister Eleanor, who was in the
custody of John.
[2128] Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc.
Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 85. _Philipp._, l. viii. (_ibid._), pp.
184, 185.
[2129] Duchesne, _Hist. Norm. Scriptt._, pp. 1057–1059.
[2130] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 146. Rigord (Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 47, giving the date.
Cf. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 85, and
_Philipp._, l. viii. (_ibid._), p. 186.
[2131] R. Coggeshall as above.
Cadoc and his mercenaries had established their head-quarters at
Angers;[2132] the whole of Anjou and Touraine, except the strongholds
of Chinon and Loches, was already secured; Aquitaine alone still
remained to be conquered. This, indeed, was likely to prove a more
difficult task; for however bitterly the men of the south might
hate their Norman or Angevin rulers, their chances of regaining or
preserving their independence under a sovereign who must henceforth
be parted from them by the whole width of the Bay of Biscay would be
obviously so much better than under one whose direct sway now stretched
all along the northern bank of the Loire from its mouth almost to its
source, that they were certain to veer round at once to the side of
John, simply for the purpose of keeping Philip out. Such was in fact
the result throughout the whole country south of the Dordogne; Savaric
of Mauléon, lately John’s enemy and prisoner, at once became his most
energetic and devoted champion;[2133] while Angoulême was secured
for John as the heritage of his queen Isabel. But the link which had
bound Guyenne to the Angevin house was broken at last; Queen Eleanor
had died on April 1.[2134] There was no longer any legal obstacle to
the execution of the sentence of forfeiture passed two years ago; and
on S. Laurence’s day Philip assembled his host for the conquest of
Poitou.[2135] Robert of Turnham, John’s seneschal,[2136] did what he
could in its defence, but he was powerless against the indifference
of the people and the active hostility of William des Roches and the
Lusignans.[2137] Poitiers was soon taken; and in a few weeks all
Poitou, except La Rochelle, Niort and Thouars, submitted to Philip as
its liege lord.[2138] At the approach of winter Philip returned to his
own dominions, leaving a body of troops to blockade Chinon, which was
held for John by Hubert de Burgh, and another to form the siege of
Loches, no less bravely defended by Gerald of Atie.[2139] At Easter
1205 the king marched with a fresh host upon Loches and took it by
assault.[2140] On midsummer-eve Chinon fell in like manner.[2141]
Robert of Turnham had already been made prisoner by the French;[2142]
the viscount of Thouars now made his submission to Philip, and received
from him the seneschalship of Poitou in Robert’s stead;[2143] Niort and
La Rochelle were left alone in their resistance to the French king.
[2132] Will. Armor. as above, pp. 86 and 188.
[2133] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 146.
[2134] Ann. Waverl. a. 1204 (Luard, _Ann. Monast._, vol. ii. p.
256). R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 144, and Mat. Paris, _Hist.
Angl._ (Madden), vol. ii. pp. 102, 103, give the same year;
the latter takes occasion to describe Eleanor as “admiribalis
domina pulchritudinis et astutiæ,” and says she died at
John’s newly-founded abbey of Beaulieu. The Chron. S. Albin.
(Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 53) places her death a year earlier,
and at Poitiers.
[2135] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
47.
[2136] Brother of Stephen of Turnham, and apparently seneschal
of Anjou at the close of Richard’s reign; transferred to Poitou
in 1201. Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iv. pp. 86, 142, 176.
[2137] R. Coggeshall as above.
[2138] _Ibid._ Rigord as above. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._
(_ibid_.), p. 86. Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. p. 181.
[2139] R. Coggeshall and Rigord as above. Will. Armor. as
above; _Philipp._, l. viii. (_ibid._), pp. 189, 190.
[2140] Rigord (as above), pp. 47, 48, and Will. Armor. _Gesta
Phil. Aug._ as above; both under a wrong year. R. Coggeshall
(Stevenson), p. 152.
[2141] Rog. Wend. (Coxe, vol. iii.), pp. 182, 183; R.
Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 154, 155; cf. Rigord (Duchesne,
_Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p. 48; Will. Armor. _Gesta
Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 86; and Chron. S. Albin. a. 1203
(Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 54).
[2142] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 152.
[2143] Will. Armor. as above.
John, however, was now at last threatening an attack from over sea.
Three weeks after his return to England, in January 1204, he had held
a council at Oxford and compelled all the tenants-in-chief, including
the bishops and abbots, to promise a scutage of two marks and a half on
the knight’s fee,[2144] and a contribution, from which even the parish
churches were not exempt, of a seventh of all moveable goods;[2145]
all under the plea of gathering a great host for the recovery of his
lost dominions.[2146] In May he held a council at Northampton,[2147]
which resulted in a summons to the fleet and the host to meet him at
Porchester at Whitsuntide, prepared to accompany him over sea. When all
was ready, however, the expedition was countermanded, at the urgent
entreaty, it was said, of Archbishop Hubert and William the Marshal,
the latter of whom had lately returned from Gaul, and might therefore
be supposed to know the condition of affairs there better than the king
could know it himself. John, after a great shew of resistance, yielded
to their entreaties; the soldiers and sailors were made to pay a fine
in commutation of their services, and dismissed, grumbling bitterly,
to their homes.[2148] The king gained a considerable sum of money by
the transaction; and the primate and the marshal, in their boundless
loyalty, were content to take upon themselves the burthen of its shame,
which John felt, or affected to feel, so keenly that he actually put
to sea with a small escort several days after the dispersion of the
fleet. He landed again, however, at Wareham on the third day,[2149]
and contented himself with sending his half-brother Earl William of
Salisbury and his own son Geoffrey with a body of knights to reinforce
the garrison of La Rochelle.[2150] A year later he again assembled his
fleet at Portsmouth;[2151] and this time he led it in person direct to
La Rochelle. He landed there on June 7,[2152] and marched to Montauban,
which he besieged and captured;[2153] the fickle viscount of Thouars,
being now in revolt against Philip, speedily joined him;[2154] they
advanced to Angers together, won it on September 6,[2155] ravaged
Anjou with fire and sword, and were doing the like in south-eastern
Britanny[2156] when Philip again crossed the Loire and harried the
viscounty of Thouars under their very eyes.[2157] John at once proposed
a truce; the terms were formally drawn up at Thouars on October
26;[2158] but when the English king’s signature was required, he was no
longer to be found. He had slipped away the night before, and was out
of reach at La Rochelle;[2159] and thence, on December 12, he sailed
for England once more.[2160]
[2144] Rog. Wend. as above, p. 175.
[2145] Mat. Paris, _Chron. Maj._ (Luard), vol. ii. p. 483.
[2146] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 144.
[2147] _Ibid._ Date, May 21–25; Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a. 7
(_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
[2148] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), pp. 152, 153. Cf. Rog. Wend.
as above, p. 183.
[2149] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 154. Rog. Wend. (Coxe),
vol. iii., p. 183. This happened June 13–15; see note 1 to R.
Coggeshall as above, and Hardy, _Itin. K. John_, a. 7 (_Intr.
Pat. Rolls_).
[2150] R. Coggeshall as above.
[2151] Rog. Wend. (as above), p. 186. John was at Porchester
from Whit-Monday, May 22, to Friday, May 26. Hardy, _Itin. K.
John_, a. 8 (_Intr. Pat. Rolls_).
[2152] He crossed from Stoke to Yarmouth on Trinity Sunday, May
28, and thence to La Rochelle on Wednesday, June 7; cf. Hardy,
as above, with Rog. Wend. as above, who has twice written
“Julii” for “Junii.”
[2153] On August 1, after fifteen days’ siege, says Rog. Wend.
(as above), p. 187; but see Hardy as above.
[2154] Rigord (Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v.), p.
48. Will. Armor. _Gesta Phil. Aug._ (_ibid._), p. 86.
[2155] _Ibid._ Date from Chron. S. Albin. a. 1206 (Marchegay,
_Eglises_, pp. 54, 57).
[2156] Will. Armor. as above.
[2157] Rigord (_ibid._), p. 48. Chron. S. Albin. a. 1206 (as
above, pp. 56, 57).
[2158] Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 95.
[2159] Will. Armor. as above. He was at La Rochelle on October
25; Hardy as above.
[2160] Rog. Wend. as above, p. 188.
Of the two devoted English ministers who had stood by him through
so much obloquy, only the Marshal was now left. A month after the
humiliating scene at Porchester in 1205, Archbishop Hubert died.[2161]
“Now for the first time am I truly king of England!” was the comment
of his ungrateful master upon the tidings of his death.[2162] The words
were words of ill omen for John himself, even more than for his people.
He was indeed king of England, and of England alone. The prophecy of
Merlin, which had been working itself out for a hundred years in the
history of the Norman and Angevin houses, was fulfilled in yet one more
detail: “the sword was parted from the sceptre.”[2163] The sword of
Hrolf the Ganger and William the Conqueror, of Fulk the Red and Fulk
the Black, had fallen from the hand of their unworthy descendant. The
sceptre of his English forefathers was left to him. But the England
over which he had to wield it was no longer the exhausted and divided
country which had been swallowed up almost without an effort in the
vast dominions of the young Count Henry of Anjou. It was an England
which was once more able to stand alone--a new England which had been
growing up under the hands of Henry himself, of his ministers, and
of the ministers of his successor, silently and imperceptibly, they
themselves knew not when or how; and between this new England and its
stranger-king the day of reckoning was now to come.
[2161] _Ib._ p. 183. R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 156.
[2162] Mat. Paris, _Hist. Angl._ (Madden), vol. ii. p. 104.
[2163] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 146.
NOTE.
THE DEATH OF ARTHUR.
Only two contemporary writers even pretend to give a circumstantial
account of Arthur’s death: the Annalist of Margam and William of
Armorica. The former tells us that John, “post prandium, ebrius et
dæmonio plenus” [did John, as well as Richard, make the demon-blood
answerable for his sins?], slew Arthur with his own hand, and having
tied a great stone to the body, flung it into the Seine; thence it
was drawn up in a fisherman’s net, recognized, and buried secretly,
“propter metum tyranni,” in Notre-Dame-des-Prés (Ann. Margam, a. 1204;
Luard, _Ann. Monast._, vol. i. p. 27). William allows the murderer
no such excuse, if excuse it be, but works up the story into a long
and horrible romance, in which John deliberately and of set purpose
takes Arthur out alone with him by night in a boat on the Seine,
plunges a sword into his body, and then rows along for three miles
before he flings the corpse overboard (Will. Armor. _Philipp._, l.
vi.; Duchesne, _Hist. Franc. Scriptt._, vol. v. pp. 166, 167). Both
these writers place the scene at Rouen. The Chron. Brioc. (Morice,
_Hist. Bret., preuves_, vol. i. col. 39) transfers it to Cherbourg:
“Apud Cæsaris-burgum duxit, et ibi proditorie et tyrannice eum in
mare submersit.” Rigord says not a word of the matter. R. Coggeshall
(Stevenson, p. 145) only speaks of it incidentally, saying that Philip
“sæviebat ... permaxime pro nece Arthuri, quem in Sequanâ submersum
fuisse audierat.” Rog. Wend. (Coxe, vol. iii. p. 170) says merely
“subito evanuit.” Mat. Paris in _Chron. Maj._ (Luard, vol. ii. p.
480) copies this, and adds: “modo fere omnibus ignorato; utinam non
ut fama refert.” In _Hist. Angl._ (Madden, vol. ii. p. 95) he gives
three stories as currently reported: accidental drowning, death from
grief, and the third, “ipsum manibus vel præcepto regis Johannis fuisse
peremptum”--this last being the assertion of the French, “quibus
propter hostilitatem plena fides non est adhibenda.” But his own
words in the _Chron. Maj._ shew that he could not wholly reject the
unavoidable conclusion of John’s guilt.
The date of Arthur’s disappearance or death is given only by the Margam
annalist. He places it on Maunday Thursday; but unluckily he has
damaged his own authority on chronological matters by putting the whole
affair a year too late, viz. in 1204 instead of 1203. Will. Armor., on
the other hand, tells us that for three days before the murder John was
at Moulineaux, near Rouen. These two chronological indications do not
exactly agree, for in 1203 Maunday Thursday was April 3, and the _Itin.
K. John_, a. 4 (Hardy, _Intr. Pat. Rolls_), shews that the king was at
Moulineaux on Wednesday, April 2, but on the two preceding days he was
at Rouen. It is however plain from the after-history that the deed must
have been done shortly before Easter.
CHAPTER X.
THE NEW ENGLAND.
1170–1206.
In the eyes of all contemporary Europe the most striking and important
event in English history during the half-century which had passed away
since the accession of Henry II. was the murder of Archbishop Thomas.
The sensation which it produced throughout western Christendom was
out of all proportion both to the personal influence of its victim
during his lifetime and to its direct political results. The popular
canonization bestowed upon the martyr was ratified by Rome with
almost unprecedented speed, in little more than two years after his
death;[2164] the stream of pilgrims which flowed to his shrine, from
the east and from the west, from the north and from the south, was
such as had hardly been seen even at the “threshold of the Apostles”
or at the Holy Sepulchre itself; and it flowed on without a break for
more than three hundred years. Yet Pope and pilgrims all alike were
probably as blind as Thomas himself had been to the true significance
for England of his life and his death. The great ecclesiastical
struggle of which he was the hero and the martyr marks a turning-point
in the social history of the reign of Henry II. even more than in
its political history. With the quarrel between Henry and Thomas the
direction of the moral and intellectual revival whose growth we have
in earlier chapters endeavoured to trace from the accession of Henry
I. to the death of Archbishop Theobald passed altogether out of the
hands in which it had prospered so long and so well--the hands of the
higher clergy and the monastic orders. The flight of Thomas scattered
to the winds the little band of earnest churchmen who had been sharers
with him in the inheritance of Theobald’s policy and Theobald’s work,
and left the reforming party in the Church without a rallying-point
and without a leader. One man alone still remained among the higher
clergy who under more favourable circumstances might have taken up the
work with a far more skilful hand than that of Thomas himself; but the
leadership of Gilbert Foliot was made impossible by the subsequent
course of events, which ranged all the religious opinion and all
the popular sympathies of England on the side of the persecuted and
martyred primate, and set Gilbert, as the primate’s most conspicuous
adversary, in the light of an enemy to the Church, a rebel against her
divine authority, and almost a denier of her faith.[2165]
[2164] He was canonized by Alexander III. on Ash-Wednesday,
February 21, 1173. Epp. dcclxxxiii.–dcclxxxvi., Robertson,
_Becket_, vol. vii. pp. 544–550.
[2165] The story of Gilbert’s dream, in Mat. Paris, _Chron.
Maj._ (Luard), vol. ii. p. 240, was probably suggested by a
line in the French _Life of S. Thomas_:
--“Gilebert Foliot, De lettres sout assez e servi Astarot”--
(Garnier, ed. Hippeau, p. 77)--where again in all likelihood the last
words were prompted by nothing more than the exigencies of rime. That
some such charges were however brought against Foliot we have seen
above, p. 70, note 5{295}.
The final settlement of the controversy was in some sense a defeat
of both parties; but the one which seemed to have gained the victory
really suffered the heaviest loss. The king was indeed compelled to
abandon his scheme for reforming the morals of the priesthood by the
strong hand of his royal justice; the privilege of the clergy was
saved, to fall at last before another King Henry four centuries later.
Yet its staunchest champions must surely have felt their cause reduced
well-nigh to an absurdity when they found that the first result of its
triumph was to secure the primate’s very murderers from the penalty
due to their crime;[2166] and far greater than the seeming gain of
Henry’s surrender at Avranches was the loss to the English Church
involved in the break-down of Theobald’s plans for the reform of the
episcopate. The cowardice of the bishops during the struggle left
them at its close wholly at the mercy of the king. The vacant sees,
of which there were eight besides Canterbury, were filled after long
delays with secular clerks wholly subservient to the royal will; and
before the end of Henry’s life the English episcopate was as completely
secularized as it had been in the worst days of his grandfather. The
inevitable consequences followed. As were the bishops, so, and even
worse, were the lower clergy. The cry against the extortion and tyranny
of the diocesan officials which rang at the opening of Henry’s reign
through the _Polycraticus_ of John of Salisbury rang yet more loudly
and bitterly at its close through the pages of Walter Map and Gerald
de Barri; the immorality which had once stirred the indignant zeal of
Henry himself grew more wide-spread and more frightful year by year,
as a direct result of his own shortsighted and selfish ecclesiastical
policy. To that policy there were, indeed, two honourably marked
exceptions. In 1186 Henry raised to the bishopric of Lincoln one of
the holiest and wisest men then living, Hugh of Avalon. His dealings
with the important and difficult question of the succession to the
metropolitan see itself appear to have been prompted by equally
disinterested motives. It was not the apathy or procrastination of
the king, but the determination of the monks of Christ Church to
use to the uttermost the favourable opportunity for asserting their
independence, and the difficulty of finding any willing candidate for
such a siege--perilous as the chair of S. Thomas was felt to be,
that delayed the election of his successor for two years and a half,
and his consecration for nine months longer still.[2167] The new
Archbishop Richard was a monk of unblemished character, and though
possessed of little talent or learning, fulfilled his office creditably
for ten years;[2168] while Baldwin, who took his place in 1185, was a
Cistercian of the best type--a type which, however, was now rapidly
passing away.
[2166] Henry, not knowing what to do with the archbishop’s
murderers, counselled or connived at their flight into
Scotland. The Scot king and people, however, shewed such a
strong disposition to hang them that they were driven to
re-cross the border (MS. Lansdown., Robertson, _Becket_, vol.
iv. p. 162). They then, it seems, took refuge at Knaresborough,
and there lay hid till hunger compelled them to issue from
their lurking-place. Finding themselves everywhere shunned like
wild beasts, they at last in desperation gave themselves up to
the mercy or the vengeance of the king. But the murderer of
a priest was legally amenable to none save an ecclesiastical
tribunal; Henry could do nothing with them but send them on
to the Pope; and all that the Pope could do with them was to
sentence them to lifelong exile and penance in Holy Land.
Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 25 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 163, 164);
cf. MS. Lansdown (as above), pp. 162, 163. See also a minor
illustration of the inconveniences attaching to this other side
of the clerical immunities, in a letter of Archbishop Richard
to some of his suffragans; Ep. dccxciv., Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. vii. pp. 561–564.
[2167] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 239–245, 247.
[2168] “Homo quidem mediocriter literatus, sed laudabiliter
innoxius, et, ne ambularet in magnis, modulo suo prudenter
contentus.” Will. Newb., l. iii. c. 8 (Howlett, vol. i. pp.
235, 236).
The monastic revival which had shed such brightness over the earlier
half of the twelfth century died down long before its close. S. Bernard
had not yet been seven years in his grave when John of Salisbury,
certainly not a hostile witness, was compelled to acknowledge that the
love of power and the greed of gain had infected the whole monastic
body, not excepting even the White Monks. Rome herself soon found it
needful to make an attempt, although a vain one, to curb the arrogance
of the military orders.[2169] Reformers in the next generation vied
with each other in denouncing the vices and crimes of the Cluniacs and
those of the “white-robed herd, the abominable order” of Cîteaux.[2170]
The fall of the Cistercians indeed was the most terrible of all;
within the space of two generations their name, once the symbol of
the highest moral and spiritual perfection which the men of their
day were capable of conceiving, had become a by-word for the lowest
depths of wickedness and corruption. Startling as was the change, its
causes are not far to seek. Pledged though they were by the origin and
primitive constitution of their order to be a standing protest against
the wealth and luxury of the Benedictines, they had nevertheless
become, in less than a hundred years from their first appearance in
England, the richest and most powerful body of monks in the realm.
At the time of their coming, almost the whole extent of arable land
throughout the country was already occupied; the only resource open to
the new-comers was the yet unexhausted and, as it seemed in England
at least, well-nigh inexhaustible resource of pasturage. They brought
to their sheep-farming the same energy, skill and perseverance which
characterized all their undertakings; and their well-earned success in
this pursuit, together with the vast increase of the wool-trade which
marked the same period, made them in a few years masters of the most
productive branch of English industry. Temptation came with prosperity.
But the more obvious temptations of wealth, the temptations to ease
and vanity and luxurious self-indulgence, had little power over the
stern temper of the White Monks; it was a deeper and a deadlier snare
into which they fell; not sloth and gluttony, but avarice and pride,
were their besetting sins. In the days of Richard and John, when we
find them struggling and bargaining almost on equal terms with the
king’s ministers and the king himself, they were indeed a mighty power
both in Church and state; but the foundation on which their power now
rested was wholly different from that upon which it had first arisen;
its moral basis was gone. As an element in the nation’s spiritual life
the Order of Cîteaux, once its very soul, now counted for worse than
nothing.
[2169] See a canon of the third Lateran Council (A.D. 1179),
in Will. Newb., l. iii. c. 3 (as above, pp. 221–223). On the
Templars and Hospitaliers see also W. Map, _De Nug. Cur._,
dist. i. c. 23 (Wright, pp. 36–38).
[2170] See especially Gir. Cambr. _Spec. Eccles._, distt. ii.
and iii. (Brewer, vol. iv. pp. 29 _et seq._). “Grex albus,
ordo nefandus,” is a description of the Cistercians quoted
apparently from W. Map by his opponent W. Bothewald; Wright,
_Latin Poems attributed to W. Mapes_, introd. p. xxxv. See also
King Richard’s opinion of these two orders and of the Templars,
in Gir. Cambr. as above, dist. ii. c. 12 (p. 54).
Still the monastic impulse which had guided so many religious movements
in the past was not wholly dead. On the continent it was giving indeed
fresh proofs of its vitality in the growth of two remarkable orders,
those of Grandmont and of the Chartreuse, both of earlier origin
than that of Cîteaux, but overshadowed until now by its transcendent
fame. These however had little influence upon English religious
life. The “Good Men” of Grandmont--as the brotherhood were commonly
called--although special favourites of King Henry, never set foot in
his island realm; the Carthusians reached it only in his last years,
and the few settlements which they formed there never rose to any
great importance.[2171] Out of all the English monasteries, of various
orders, whose dates of foundation are known, only one hundred and
thirteen arose during the thirty-five years of Henry’s reign, while
a hundred and fifteen owed their origin to the nineteen troubled
winters of his predecessor. In Yorkshire alone no less than twenty
new houses had been founded under Stephen; only eleven were founded
there under Henry.[2172] Towards the close of the century, indeed, the
reputation of English monachism had fallen so low that in the high
places of the Church a reaction in favour of secular clerks began to
set in once more. One bishop, Hugh of Coventry, not only ventured to
repeat the experiment which had been vainly tried elsewhere under the
Confessor and the Conqueror, of turning the monks out of his cathedral
and replacing them by secular canons, but actually proposed that all
the cathedral establishments served by monks should be broken up and
put upon a new foundation of a like secular character. Hugh himself
was however scarcely the man to meet with general recognition in the
capacity of a reformer; and his bold anticipation of the ecclesiastical
revolution which was to come four centuries later ended in ignominious
failure.[2173] It was, however, no less a personage than Archbishop
Baldwin himself who in 1186 proposed to endow out of his archiepiscopal
revenues a college of secular priests at Hackington by Canterbury,
with the avowed object of providing a dwelling-place and a maintenance
for the scholarship which monkish jealousy and monkish sloth had all
but driven out of the cloisters where from the days of Theodore to
those of Theobald it had found a home. This scheme was at once met by
a determined opposition on the part of the monks of Christ Church,
who suspected, perhaps not without reason, that it was part of a
design for curtailing the privileges and destroying the independence
of the metropolitan chapter. They instantly appealed to Rome, and the
appeal opened a contest which absorbed the unlucky primate’s energies
throughout the remainder of his life. He was steadily supported by
the king; but the weight of the whole monastic body, except his own
order, was thrown into the opposite scale; the general drift of
ecclesiastical feeling still lay in the same direction; and after
nearly four years of wearisome litigation at Rome and almost open
warfare at Canterbury, the building of the new college was stopped by
order of the Pope. The undaunted primate transferred his foundation
to a new site at Lambeth, where it might have seemed less open to
suspicion of rivalry with the Canterbury chapter; but the jealousy of
the monks pursued it with relentless hatred, and Baldwin’s absence
and death in Holy Land enabled them to secure an easy victory a year
later. The next archbishop, Hubert Walter, took up his predecessor’s
scheme with a zeal doubtless quickened by the fact that he was himself
a secular clerk. The dispute dragged on for five more years, to end at
last in the defeat of the primate, and, with him, of the last attempt
made in England systematically to utilize the superfluous wealth of
a great monastic corporation for the promotion of learning and the
endowment of study.[2174] The attempt was made under unfavourable
circumstances, perhaps by unskilful hands; and it was moreover made
too soon. In English national sentiment, monachism was inseparably
bound up with Christianity itself. To the monastic system England
owed her conversion, her ecclesiastical organization, her earliest
training as a nation and as a Church. Even if the guides to whom she
had so long trusted were failing her at last, the conservatism and the
gratitude of Englishmen both alike still shrank from casting aside
a tradition hallowed by the best and happiest associations of six
hundred years. The bent of popular sympathy was strikingly shewn by
an episode in Baldwin’s quarrel with his monks, when their insolent
defiance of his authority provoked him to cut off all their supplies,
in the hope of starving them into submission. For eighty-four weeks
not a morsel of food reached them save what was brought by their
friends or by the pilgrims who crowded to the martyr’s shrine; so
great however was the amount of these contributions, some of which
came even from Jews, that--if we may believe the tale of one who was
himself an inmate of the convent at this time--the brethren were able
out of their superabundance to give a daily meal to two hundred poor
strangers.[2175] As a spiritual force, however, monachism in England
was well-nigh dead. Though it still kept a lingering hold upon the
hearts of the people, it had lost its power over their souls. It might
produce individual saints like Hugh of Lincoln; but its influence had
ceased to mould the spiritual life of the nation. The time was almost
ripe for the coming of the Friars.
[2171] On Grandmont (founded in 1176, by Stephen of Tierny,
near Muret in the diocese of Limoges) see _Gall. Christ._, vol.
ii. col. 645; _Vita S. Steph. Muret._ (Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._,
vol. ii. pp. 674–683); Bern. Guidon, _De Ordine Grandimont._
(_ib._ p. 275 _et seq._); W. Map, _De Nug. Curial._, dist. i.
cc. 17, 27 (Wright, pp. 28, 29, 58, 59); and Gir. Cambr. _Spec.
Eccles._, dist. iii. c. 21 (Brewer, vol. iv. p. 254). Henry’s
reverence for the brethren showed itself not only in frequent
visits and benefactions to their house, and also in his desire
to be buried there (above, p. 270), but also by the remarkable
way in which he deferred to their suggestions and sought their
counsel on grave matters of policy. Examples of this are
frequent during the Becket controversy; another may be seen
in _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 194. For the Chartreuse
(diocese of Grenoble--founded in 1084 or 1086 by Bruno of
Cöln, a canon of Reims) see W. Map, _De Nug. Cur._, dist. i.
cc. 16 and 28 (Wright, pp. 26–28, 59, 60); Gir. Cambr. _Spec.
Eccles._, dist. iii. c. 20 (as above, pp. 248–252); _Gall.
Christ._, vol. xvi. cols. 268, 269. The history of the English
Carthusian houses is in Dugdale’s _Monasticon_, vol. vi. pt.
i.; a full account of one, Witham, is given in the Life of S.
Hugh of Lincoln, who had been its first prior.
[2172] These figures are from Mr. Howlett’s introduction to
Will. Newb., vol. i. pp. xiii, xiv.
[2173] Gir. Cambr. _Spec. Eccles._, dist. ii. c. 23 (as above,
pp. 65, 67). Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), pp. 65–67. Gerv. Cant.
(Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 470, 488, 489, 550.
[2174] The history of this quarrel is told at wearisome length
by Gervase of Canterbury, and in the _Epistolæ Cantuarienses_.
It is summed up and explained by Bishop Stubbs in his preface
to the last-named book.
[2175] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 405.
Meanwhile the decay of holiness and learning in the cloister was
brought into more vivid light by a great outburst of intellectual
vigour of a wholly new type. The literary activity of the reign of
Henry I. had been all but quenched by the troubles of Stephen’s
reign. Chronicler after chronicler lays down his pen, as if in
disgust or despair, in the middle of the dreary story, till Henry
of Huntingdon and the nameless English annalist at Peterborough are
left to struggle almost alone through the last years of anarchy to
welcome the new king; and he is no sooner crowned than they, too,
pass away into silence.[2176] The first half of Henry’s reign has
no contemporary historian at all. The other branches of literature
continued equally barren; and a promise of better things had scarcely
dawned in the miscellaneous treatises of John of Salisbury when the
whole intellectual horizon was darkened by the great ecclesiastical
storm. No sooner had it subsided, however, than the literary impulse
revived under wholly changed conditions. Its bent was still mainly
historical; and, as might be expected, the first subject-matter upon
which it seized was the history of the new martyr. Within twenty
years of his death, no less than ten different biographies of S.
Thomas were composed by writers of the most diverse characters--his
old comrade John of Salisbury, three of his own confidential clerks,
a Benedictine abbot of Peterborough, an Augustinian prior of Oxford,
a monk of Canterbury who was probably an Irishman by blood, a French
poet who had seen the primate in his chancellor-days, a Cambridge
clerk who had joined him on the eve of his martyrdom. But meanwhile a
new school of English history was springing up in the court instead
of the cloister. Modern research has ascertained that the book which
may fairly be called the foundation-stone of this new school, as well
as the primary authority for English political history from the death
of S. Thomas to the third year of Richard Cœur-de-Lion--- the “Acts
of King Henry and King Richard,” long attributed to Benedict abbot
of Peterborough--is really the work of Richard Fitz-Nigel, bishop of
London and treasurer. Its continuator, Roger of Howden, was a clerk
of the royal chapel and an active and trusted officer of the royal
administration under both Henry and Richard.[2177] A third chronicler
of the period, Ralf de Diceto, was archdeacon of Middlesex from 1153 to
1180, when he became dean of S. Paul’s, an office of great political
as well as ecclesiastical importance, which he filled with distinction
until his death in the fourth year of King John.[2178] The works of
these three writers are examples of a species of historical composition
which is one of the most valuable literary products of the later
twelfth century. They are chronicles in the strictest sense of the
word:--records of facts and events arranged year by year in orderly
chronological sequence, and for the most part without any attempt at
illustration, comment or criticism. But the gap which parts them from
the ordinary type of monastic chronicle is as wide as that which parted
the highly-placed ecclesiastical dignitary, the trusted minister of
the Crown, or the favourite court-chaplain from the obscure monk who
had spent, it may be, well-nigh his whole life in copying manuscripts
in the scriptorium of Burton or Dunstable or Waverley. Their writers
were not merely chroniclers; they were statesmen and diplomatists
as well. Their position as members of the royal administration,
dwelling in the capital or at the court, placed them in constant and
intimate communication with the chief actors in the events which they
narrate, events of which not only were they themselves frequently
eye-witnesses, but in which they even took a personal, though it might
be subordinate, share; it gave them access to the most authentic
sources of political intelligence, to the official records of the
kingdom, to the state-papers and diplomatic correspondence of the
time, whereof a considerable part, if not actually drawn up by
themselves, must at any rate have passed through their hands in the
regular course of their daily business. The fulness and accuracy, the
balance of proportion, the careful order which characterize the work
of these statesmen-chroniclers are scarcely more remarkable than its
cosmopolitan range; Henry’s historiographers, like Henry himself, sweep
the whole known world into the wide circle of their intelligence and
their interest; the internal concerns of every state, from Norway to
Morocco and from Ireland to Palestine, find a place in the pages of
Richard Fitz-Nigel and Roger of Howden, side by side with the narrative
of their sovereign’s wars with France or with the text of the various
assizes whereby he was reforming the legal and judicial administration
of their own native land. While, however, the first works of this new
historical school thus rose far above the level of mere annals, they
still stood far below the literary standard of history in the higher
sense, which had been set up by a monk at Malmesbury half a century
before. The only writer who in the latter half of the twelfth century,
like William of Malmesbury in its earlier half, looked at history in
its true light, not as a mere record of facts, but according to its
old Greek definition, as “philosophy teaching by examples,” must be
sought after all not in the court but in the cloister. William indeed
had left no heir to his many-sided literary genius; but if some shreds
of his mantle did fall upon any historian of the next generation, they
fell upon one who bore his name, in an Augustinian priory among the
Yorkshire moors.
[2176] Henry of Huntingdon, we know, intended to “devote a new
book to the new king”; but it seems that this intention was not
fulfilled.
[2177] On the _Gesta Hen._ and Rog. Howden see Bishop Stubbs’s
prefaces to his editions of them in the Rolls series.
[2178] Stubbs, _R. Diceto_, vol. i. pref. pp. xxvi–lxxxiii.
William of Newburgh was born in 1136 at Bridlington, a quiet little
town lying under the southern escarpment of the York Wolds, not far
from Flamborough Head. Here, between the bleak uplands and the cold
northern sea, a priory of Austin canons had been founded by Walter de
Gant in the reign of Henry I.;[2179] from this house a colony went
forth in the early years of Stephen to settle, under the protection
of Roger de Mowbray, first at Hode near Thirsk, and afterwards, in
1145, at Newburgh near Coxwold. William entered the new house as a
child--probably, therefore, almost at its foundation; there he passed
his whole life; and there, as the reign of Richard Cœur-de-Lion drew
towards its close, he wrote his _English History_, from the Norman
conquest to his own day. The actual composition of the book seems to
have occupied little more than two years; it can scarcely have been
begun earlier than 1196, and it breaks off abruptly in the spring
of 1198. The surroundings of its writer offered comparatively few
advantages for the pursuit of historical study. No atmosphere of
venerable antiquity, no traditions of early scholarship and poetry,
no hallowed associations with the kings and saints and heroes of old,
hung around Newburgh priory; the house was younger than its historian;
the earliest and well-nigh the only memory that can attract a pilgrim
to its now desolate site is the memory of William himself. No crowd
of devotees from all parts of the realm came thither year by year to
bring their offerings and their news, as they came to the shrine of S.
Ealdhelm; no visit of king or prince is likely ever to have startled
the inmates of Newburgh out of the quiet routine of their daily life;
its prior held no such place among the ecclesiastical dignitaries
of his province as the abbot of Malmesbury had held for ages among
the prelates of the south; he and his canons could have little or no
business with the outside world, and it is hardly conceivable that
any of them would ever have occasion to travel further than to the
mother-house at Bridlington, unless indeed his own love of enterprise
and thirst for a wider knowledge of the world should drive him further
afield. Even in such a case, however, the undertaking would have been
beset with difficulties; travelling in Yorkshire was still, even under
Henry Fitz-Empress and his son, a more arduous and dangerous matter
than travelling in Wessex under his grandfather. William, too, had
grown up amid those terrible days when peaceable folk could find no
shelter save within convent-walls, and even that shelter sometimes
proved unavailing--when the men of the north were only too thankful
to wrap themselves in that comparative isolation which saved them at
any rate from sharing in the worst miseries that overwhelmed their
brethren in southern England. The memories of his boyhood were little
calculated to arouse in him such a spirit of enterprise as had fired
the young librarian of Malmesbury. He seems, indeed, never to have set
a foot outside his native shire; we might almost fancy that like the
first and most venerable of all our historians, he never set a foot
outside his own monastery. The vivid sketches of town and country which
give such a picturesque charm to the writings of William of Malmesbury
are wholly absent from those of William of Newburgh; there is but one
bit of local description in his whole book, and even that one--a brief
account of Scarborough[2180]--contains no distinct proof of having
been drawn from personal knowledge of the place. The brotherhood of
Newburgh had, however, ample opportunities of obtaining authentic,
though indirect, intelligence from the outer world. Their home, in
a sheltered spot under the western slope of the Hambledon Hills, was
quiet and peaceful, but not lonely; for it lay on an old road leading
from York to the mouth of the Tees, and within easy reach of a whole
group of famous monastic establishments which had sprung up during the
early years of the religious revival in the little river-valleys that
open around the foot of the moors. A few hours’ journey down the vale
of Pickering would bring the canons of Newburgh to brethren of their
own order at Kirkham and Malton; some ten or twelve miles of hill and
moor lay between them and the famous abbey of Rievaux; another great
Cistercian house, Byland, rose only a mile from their own home. With
the two last-named houses, at least, they were clearly in frequent
and intimate communication; it was indeed at the desire of Abbot
Ernald of Rievaux that William undertook to write his history; and
remembering the important part which the Cistercians, and especially
those of Yorkshire, had played for more than half a century in English
politics, secular as well as ecclesiastical, we can readily see that
his external sources of information were likely to be at once copious
and trustworthy.
[2179] Dugdale, _Monast. Angl._, vol. vi. pt. 1, pp. 284, 285.
[2180] Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 3 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 104).
The literary resources of Newburgh itself, however, must have been
of the very poorest; its library, if it possessed one at all, could
only be in process of formation even in William’s mature years. He
himself gives us no clue to its contents. His style is that of a man
of education and taste, but he shews little trace of the classical
scholarship which may be detected in William of Malmesbury. Only three
earlier writers are mentioned by name in his preface; with two of
these--Bæda and Gildas--he has of course no ground in common; while
the third, Geoffrey of Monmouth, is named only to be overwhelmed with
scorn. It is plain, however, that William largely used the works of
Simeon of Durham and Henry of Huntingdon; while the fact that his
sketch of the reigns of Henry I. and Stephen is founded upon the
last-named writer seems to shew that his literary ambition had never
been quickened by a sight of the _Gesta Regum_ and _Historia Novella_,
of which nevertheless his book is the sole worthy continuation.
Compared with the works of Richard Fitz-Nigel and Roger of Howden,
its faults are obvious; its details are vague and inaccurate, it is
full of mistakes in names, pedigrees and suchlike small matters, and
its chronology is one long tangle of inconsistencies, confusions and
contradictions. But in the eyes of William of Newburgh, as in the
eyes of William of Malmesbury, the office of an historian is not so
much to record the events of the past as to explain them, to extract
from them their moral and political significance for the instruction
of the present and the future. His work is not a chronicle; it is a
commentary on the whole history of England, political, ecclesiastical
and social, throughout the twelfth century.[2181] Such a commentary,
written at such a time and by such a man, is for later students
above all price. The one short chapter in which William sums up the
causes and effects of the anarchy under Stephen[2182] is of more real
historical worth than the whole chaos of mere disjointed facts which
is all that the chroniclers have to give us, and in which he alone
helps us to discover a meaning and a moral. The same might be said of
many of his reflections upon men and things, both at home and abroad.
In some respects indeed he contrasts favourably even with his greater
namesake of Malmesbury. If he is less anxious for the entertainment
of his reader, he is more in earnest about the philosophical bearings
of his subject; he cares less for artistic effect and more for moral
impressions; his stories are less amusing and less graphically told,
but they are untinged with Malmesbury’s love of gossip and scandal;
his aim is always rather to point a moral than to adorn a tale;
he has a feeling for romance and a feeling for humour,[2183] but
he will ruthlessly, though quietly, demolish a generally-accepted
story altogether, if he knows it to be false.[2184] Only once does
the judicial calmness of his tone change into accents of almost
passionate indignation; and it is this outburst which above all has
gained for him in our own day the title of “the father of historical
criticism,”[2185] for it is the earliest protest against a rising
school of pseudo-historical writers who seemed in a fair way to drive
true history altogether out of the literary field.
[2181] On Will. Newb. and his work see Mr. Howlett’s preface to
vol. i. of his edition of the _Historia Anglicana_ in the Rolls
series.
[2182] Will. Newb., l. i. c. 22 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 69, 70).
[2183] See _e.g._, l. ii. c. 10, and l. iv. c. 32 (as above,
pp. 123–125, 385, 386), l. v. cc. 6 and 14 (vol. ii. pp.
424–427, 451–453).
[2184] L. i. c. 26 (vol. i. p. 81).
[2185] From Mr. Freeman, in the _Contemporary Review_, vol.
xxxiii. (1878), p. 216.
Nowhere, perhaps, has the marvellous vitality of the ancient Celtic
race shewn itself more strikingly than in the province of literature.
Of all the varied intellectual elements that went to the making of the
new England, the Celtic element rose to the surface first. The romantic
literature of England owes its origin to a Welsh monk, Geoffrey of
Monmouth, who became bishop of S. Asaph’s about two years before the
accession of Henry II. Long before that time--probably in the days
when poets and men of letters of every type were thronging to the
court of Henry’s grandmother the good Queen Maude--Walter Calenius,
archdeacon of Oxford, had picked up during a journey in Britanny “a
very ancient book, containing a history of the Britons, from Brut to
Cadwallader son of Cadwallon;” this book he carried home to England
and presented to his friend Geoffrey, begging him to translate it out
of Welsh into Latin.[2186] Some years after the death of Henry I.
Geoffrey’s translation was given to the world. Its original cannot
now be identified; but Geoffrey may fairly take to himself the whole
credit of the _History of the British Kings_ to which his name is
attached. The book is an elaborate tissue of Celtic myths, legends and
traditions, scraps of classical and Scriptural learning, and fantastic
inventions of the author’s own fertile brain, all dexterously thrown
into a pseudo-historical shape and boldly sent forth under the imposing
name of History. The success of Geoffrey’s venture was amazing. The
dedication of the book was accepted by the foremost lay scholar of
the day, William of Malmesbury’s friend and patron, Earl Robert of
Gloucester; its fame spread rapidly through all sections and classes of
society. A Yorkshire priest, Alfred of Beverley, tells us how some of
the clergy of the diocese, when suspended from the usual occupations of
their calling--doubtless by one of the many interdicts which fell upon
them during the struggle between S. William and Henry Murdac--beguiled
their time by discussing the stories which they had heard or read about
the ancient British kings; how, his curiosity aroused by their talk, he
with some difficulty borrowed a copy of the new book which had set them
talking; and how he longed to transcribe it at length, but lacking time
and means was obliged to content himself with an abridgement.[2187]
Norman barons and ladies heard of the wondrous book and became eager
to read it in their own tongue; a copy was borrowed from Earl Robert
himself by no less a personage than Walter Lespec, that he might lend
it in his turn to a friend of his own, Ralf Fitz-Gilbert, whose wife
wanted her household-minstrel Geoffrey Gaimar to translate it into
French verse for her entertainment.[2188]
[2186] Geoff. Monm. _Hist. Reg. Brit._, l. i. c. 1 (Giles,
Caxton Soc., pp. 1, 2).
[2187] Alf. Beverl. (Hearne), pp. 1–3.
[2188] Geoff. Gaimar, vv. 6436–6460 (Wright, Caxton Soc., pp.
224, 225).
The version of Gaimar was superseded in a few years by that of Wace,
a Norman poet who did a better service to the cause of history by his
later work, the _Roman de Rou_ or riming chronicle of the Norman dukes
from Hrolf to Henry II. Neither Alfred nor Gaimar nor Wace seems to
have had any suspicion of the true character of Geoffrey’s book of
marvels; they all alike treated it as genuine history, and from the
point where it closes, at the death of Cadwallon in 689, carried on
their narratives without a break down to the times of the Norman kings.
It was against this blurring of the line between truth and falsehood,
this obliteration of the fundamental distinction between history and
romance, that William of Newburgh lifted up his well-grounded and
eloquent protest in the preface to his _Historia Anglicana_.[2189]
Notwithstanding that protest, the fabulous tales of the _Brut_ (as
Geoffrey’s book is commonly called, from the name of the first British
king mentioned in it) continued to pass current as an integral part of
the history of Britain for many generations after him. The fraud was
in fact countenanced in high places for political ends; Henry himself
was quick to seize upon it as a means of humouring the national
vanity and soothing the irritated national feelings of those Celtic
vassals who were generally among the most troublesome of his subjects,
but who were also not unfrequently among the most necessary and
useful of his allies. On one occasion he is said, though on doubtful
authority, to have conciliated the Bretons by consenting to enter
into a diplomatic correspondence with their long-departed, yet still
mysteriously living monarch, Arthur, and by proposing to hold Britanny
as Arthur’s vassal.[2190] In his last years, however, he turned the new
Arthurian lore to account in a far more significant way in the island
Britain: he set the monks of Glastonbury to find the grave of the
British hero-king. In the cemetery of S. Dunstan’s old abbey stood two
pyramidal stones, of unknown age, and covered with inscriptions so old
and worn that nothing could be read in them save, as it was thought,
Arthur’s name. Between these stones, sixteen feet below the surface
of the ground, Henry--so the monks afterwards declared--guided by
what he had heard from an old Welsh bard and read in the histories of
the Britons,[2191] bade them look for a wooden sarcophagus containing
Arthur’s mortal remains. The discovery was made in 1191; a coffin,
hollowed as Henry had said out of the solid trunk of an oak-tree,
was dug up on the spot indicated; let into a stone at its foot was
a leaden cross, which when taken out proved to bear upon its inner
face the words, “Here in the isle of Avalon lies buried the renowned
King Arthur, with Guinevere his wife.” In the coffin were found a few
rotten bones, and a “cunningly-braided tress of golden hair,” which
however crumbled into dust in the hand of a monk who snatched it up
too eagerly. The bones were carefully preserved and solemnly re-buried
under a marble tomb before the high altar in the abbey-church.[2192]
[2189] Will. Newb. proœm. (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 11–18).
[2190] “Hanc [sc. Britanniam] sub jure tuo, sub pace tuâ,
teneamus;
Jus tibi, pax nobis, totaque terra simul”--
ends Henry’s letter to Arthur in the _Draco Norm._, l. ii. c.
22, vv. 1279, 1280 (Howlett, _Will. Newb._, vol. ii. p. 707).
See above, p. 57, note 2{226}. The whole story is extremely
curious; but I feel too doubtful about the character of the
source from which it comes to venture upon any discussion of its
possible significance.
[2191] “Sicut ab historico cantore Britone audierat antiquo,”
Gir. Cambr. _De Instr. Princ._ (Angl. Christ. Soc.), p. 192.
“Ex gestis Britonum et eorum cantoribus historicis,” _Spec.
Eccles._, dist. ii. c. 9 (Brewer, vol. iv. p. 49). These
pyramids were there in William of Malmesbury’s day, when one
of them was already threatening to fall “præ nimiâ vetustate.”
They were covered with “antiquitatis nonnulla spectacula, quæ
plane possunt legi licet non plane possunt intelligi.” These
were pictures of bishops and kings, with old English names
written under them; Arthur, however, is not in the list.
William thought that the persons represented were buried
underneath. Will. Malm. _Gesta Reg._, l. i. c. 21 (Hardy, pp.
34, 35).
[2192] See the various accounts of the invention and
translation of Arthur in Gir. Cambr. _Spec. Eccles._, dist. ii.
cc. 9, 10 (Brewer, vol. iv. pp. 48–51), and _De Instr. Princ._
(Angl. Christ. Soc.), pp. 191, 192; R. Coggeshall (Stevenson),
p. 36; Rog. Wend. (Coxe), vol. iii. p. 48, and Ann. Margam, a.
1190 (Luard, _Ann. Monast._, vol. i. pp. 21, 22). Gerald seems
to have been present himself. He tells us the “translation”
was made by the king’s order; and indeed his account, taken by
itself, would leave an impression that the whole thing occurred
during King Henry’s lifetime; but R. Coggeshall and Rog. Wend.
both distinctly give the date, 1191; the Margam Annals place it
only a year earlier; and in both those years the reigning king
was far away.
It is easy to see what was, at any rate in Henry’s mind, the political
significance of this transaction. When Arthur could be thus publicly
exhibited as dead and buried, it was because the long-cherished dreams
of Celtic national independence, of which his name had been the symbol
and the watchword, were dead and buried too. But the scene thus enacted
at Glastonbury in 1191 had also another meaning of which perhaps none
of the actors in it could be fully aware. It marked the final “passing
of Arthur” out of the sphere of politics into a wholly new sphere of
pure intellect and philosophical romance. If Geoffrey of Monmouth
corrupted the sources of British history, he atoned for his crime by
opening to the poets of the generation succeeding his own a fount of
inspiration which is hardly exhausted yet. Their imagination seized
upon the romantic side of these old-world legends, and gradually wove
them into a poetic cycle which went on developing all through the later
middle ages not in England alone, but over the whole of civilized
Europe. But in the hands of these more highly-cultured singers the wild
products of bardic fancy took a new colour and a new meaning. As usual,
it was the Church who first breathed into the hitherto soulless body
the breath of spiritual and intellectual life. The earliest of the
Arthurian romances, as we possess them now, is a wholly new creation of
the religious mysticism of the twelfth century, the story of the Holy
Grail--
“The cup, the cup itself, from which our Lord
Drank at the last sad supper with His own.
This, from the blessed land of Aromat--
After the day of darkness, when the dead
Went wandering o’er Moriah--the good saint,
Arimathæan Joseph, journeying brought
To Glastonbury, where the winter thorn
Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord.
And there awhile it bode; and if a man
Could touch or see it, he was heal’d at once,
By faith, of all his ills. But then the times
Grew to such evil that the holy cup
Was caught away to Heaven, and disappear’d.”
As one by one the older legends of Arthur and Merlin, the later stories
of Lancelot and Tristan and Gawaine, were moulded into literary form, a
link to bind them all together was found in the “quest of the Grail,”
vowed by the whole company of Arthur’s knights assembled at the Table
Round, achieved only by one, the Galahad whose pure figure has gleamed
upon all after-time, as it flashed first upon the corrupt court of the
Angevins, the mirror of ideal Christian chivalry.
The greater part--certainly the noblest part--of this vast fabric of
romance seems to have been woven by the genius of one man.[2193] Every
side of the intellectual movement which throughout the latter half
of the twelfth century was working a revolution in English thought
and life is reflected in Walter Map. Born on the marches of England
and Wales, probably in the early years of the civil war, he studied
at Paris under Gerard la Pucelle, and came home again, while Thomas
Becket was still chancellor, to occupy some post at court, doubtless
that of chaplain to the king. He came of a family which had already
done good service to the Crown; but once in personal contact with Henry
himself, Walter can have needed no passport to the royal favour save
his own versatile genius. At once a scholar, a theologian and a poet,
an earnest political and ecclesiastical reformer and a polished man
of the world, shrewd and practical, witty and wise, he soon rose high
in the king’s confidence and esteem. Henry employed him in the most
varied capacities--as a justice-itinerant in England, as an ambassador
to the court of France, as a representative of English orthodoxy and
theological learning at the Lateran council of 1179; while in the
intervals of these missions he was in close and constant attendance
upon the king himself. In addition to his post in the royal household
he held several ecclesiastical preferments--a canonry at S. Paul’s,
the parsonage of Westbury in Gloucestershire, and the precentorship
of Lincoln, which he resigned in 1196 to become archdeacon of
Oxford.[2194] By that time his literary work was probably for the most
part done. The only book now extant which actually bears his name,
the treatise _De Nugis Curialium_--“Courtiers’ Triflings”--is a fruit
of the busy years spent in attendance upon King Henry from 1182 to
1189. By its title and origin it recalls the _Polycraticus_; and the
difference between the two books marks the change which had come over
the tone of educated English thought in the quarter of a century that
lay between them. Walter Map was, in all likelihood, as ripe a scholar
as John of Salisbury; but there is nothing scholastic in his treatment
of his subject. His book is far less elaborate in form and methodical
in arrangement than John’s; it has, in fact, no visible arrangement
at all; it is a collection of miscellaneous notes--scraps of folklore
from the Welsh marches, tales brought home by pilgrims and crusaders
from Byzantium or Jerusalem, stories from the classics, sayings from
the Fathers, fragments of information gleaned from the by-ways of
history, personal anecdotes new and old, sketches of contemporary life
and manners in the world and the Church, court-news, court-gossip,
court-scandal--all, as it seems, picked out at random from the
writer’s private commonplace-book and flashed in picturesque confusion
before the eyes of the literary public of his day. Yet the purpose of
it all is as earnest as that of the _Polycraticus_, though veiled under
a shew of carelessness. Walter appeals to a wider circle than John;
he writes not for a chosen band of kindred souls, but for all sorts
and conditions of men who know Latin enough to read him, for courtiers
and men of the world who have neither time nor patience to go through
a course of philosophical reasonings and exhortations, but who may be
caught at unawares by “truth embodied in a tale,” and are the more
likely to be caught by it the more unexpected the shape in which it
comes. When Walter stops to point the moral of his stories--for a moral
they always have--he does it with the utmost tact; more often he leaves
his readers to find the moral for themselves. “I am your huntsman;
I bring you the game; dress the dishes for yourselves!” he tells
them.[2195] But he strikes down the quarry--if we may venture to borrow
his own metaphor--with a far more unsparing hand than his predecessor.
King Henry himself, indeed, never was spared in his own court; but it
is in the satirist’s attitude towards the Church that we find the most
significant sign of the times. The grave tone of righteous indignation,
the shame and grief of the Theobaldine reformers at the decay of
ecclesiastical purity, has given place to bitter mockery and scathing
sarcasm. Where John lifts up his hands in deprecation of Heaven’s
wrath against its unworthy ministers, Walter points at them the finger
of scorn. John turns with eager hope from the picture of decaying
discipline and declining morality, which he paints with firm hand but
with averted face, to the prospect of a reformation which is to be the
spontaneous work of the clergy and the “religious” themselves; Walter
has seen this dream of reform buried in the grave of S. Thomas--perhaps
we should rather say of Theobald--and now sees no way of dealing with
the mass of corruption but to fling it bodily into the furnace of
public criticism and popular hatred. The mightiest creation of his
genius is the “Bishop Goliath” whose gigantic figure embodies all the
vice and all the crime which were bringing disgrace upon the clerical
order in his day. The “Apocalypse” and “Confession” of this imaginary
prelate have been ascribed to Walter Map by a constant tradition whose
truth it is impossible to doubt, although it rests upon no direct
contemporary authority.[2196] The satire is in fact so daring, so
bitter, and withal so appallingly true to life, that the author may
well have deemed it wiser to conceal his name. He is the anonymous
spokesman of a new criticism which has not yet fully discovered its own
power; of a public opinion which is no longer held in check by external
authority, but which is beginning to be itself an independent force;
which dares to sling its pebble at abuses that have defied king and
Pope, and will dare one day to sling it at king and Pope themselves.
That day, however, was still far distant. Walter’s ideal of perfection
in Church and state is one with John of Salisbury’s, only it is set
forth in a different shape. The moral lesson which lies at the heart
of the Arthurian romances comes home to us the more forcibly as we
remember that the hand which drew Sir Galahad was the same hand which
drew Bishop Goliath.
[2193] On these Arthur-romances and Walter Map’s share in
them see Sir F. Madden’s introduction to his edition of _Sir
Gawayne_ (Bannatyne Club), and that of M. Paulin Paris to the
first volume of his _Manuscrits Français de la Bibliothèque du
Roi_, summarized in Mr. H. Morley’s _English Writers_, vol. i.
pp. 562–569.
[2194] For the life of Walter Map see Mr. Wright’s _Biog.
Britt. Litt._, vol. ii. pp. 295–298, and his preface to _De
Nug. Cur._ (Camden Soc.) pp. i.–viii.
[2195] “Venator vester sum, feras vobis affero, fercula
faciatis.” W. Map, _De Nug. Cur._, dist. ii. c. 32 (Wright, p.
106).
[2196] They have been edited, under the title of _Latin Poems
ascribed to Walter Mapes_, by Mr. T. Wright for the Camden
Society.
Side by side with Walter Map, in the foremost rank of this new school
of critics and satirists, stands his probably younger contemporary,
Gerald de Barri. Gerald was born in 1147 in the castle of Manorbeer,
some three miles from Pembroke. He has left us a vivid picture of his
childhood’s home--its ramparts and towers crowning a lofty hill-top
exposed to all the winds that swept over the stormy Irish Sea, whirled
up the creek that ran up from the Bristol Channel to westward of the
castle, and ruffled with ceaseless wavelets the surface of the little
stream that flowed through the sandy valley on its eastern side;--its
splendid fishponds at the northern foot of the hill, the enclosed
tract of garden-ground beyond, and at the back of all, the protecting
belt of woodland whose precipitous paths and lofty nut-trees were
perhaps alike attractive to Gerald and his brothers in their boyish
days.[2197] His father, William de Barri, the lord of Manorbeer,
represented one of those Norman families of knightly rank who had
made for themselves a home in South Wales, half as conquerors, half
as settlers, in the days of Henry I. His mother, Angareth, was a
granddaughter of Rees Ap-Tewdor, prince of South Wales--a child of his
daughter Nest by her marriage with Gerald the constable of Pembroke;
and the fiery Celtic spirit as well as the quick Celtic wit which the
boy inherited from her shews itself alike in every act of his life
and in every page of his writings. On both sides he came of a race of
fighting-men, and he was certainly not the least pugnacious of his
family. The countless battles of his life were, however, to be fought
with other weapons than the sword which had won Manorbeer for his
paternal ancestors, and which was soon to win for some of his mother’s
nearest kinsmen--for her half-brother Robert Fitz-Stephen, her nephews
Meiler and Robert and Raymond, her own brother Maurice Fitz-Gerald--a
wider heritage and a more lasting fame beyond the Irish Sea. Gerald’s
bent towards the clerical profession shewed itself in his earliest
years; as a child he was known at Manorbeer as “the little bishop.”
At three different periods before he reached the age of twenty-five,
he spent some years in study at Paris, where he also lectured upon
rhetoric with considerable success. He finally came home in 1172, just
as King Henry, having twice passed through South Wales on his way to
and from Ireland, was planning out a new scheme for the government of
the principality. One part of this scheme was, as we have seen, the
delegation of the supreme authority to the young Welsh prince Rees
Ap-Griffith. Another part was the revival of the policy begun by the
Norman kings of managing the Welsh people through the instrumentality
of the Church, and, to this intent, filling the ranks of the clergy
in Wales with as many foreign priests as possible. Experience had,
however, shewn that men of pure English or Norman blood were not always
the fittest instruments for such a purpose. A year after Gerald’s birth
a compromise had been tried in the appointment to the bishopric of
S. David’s of a prelate who was half Norman and half Welsh:--David,
son of Gerald of Pembroke and Nest, brother of Maurice Fitz-Gerald and
of Angareth the wife of William de Barri. When Angareth’s son Gerald
came home from Paris in 1172, therefore, the influence of her family
was at its height. The foremost man in South Wales was her cousin Rees
Ap-Griffith; the second was her brother the bishop of S. David’s. It
was only natural that Gerald, sharing with his uncle the qualification
of mingled Welsh and Norman blood, and already known as a distinguished
scholar of the most famous seat of learning in Europe, should be at
once selected for employment in the business of reforming his native
land. Gerald himself was eager for the work; he had no difficulty in
obtaining from Archbishop Richard a commission to act as his legate
and representative in the diocese of S. David’s; thus armed, he began
a vigorous campaign against the evil doings of clergy and laity
alike--forcing the people to pay their tithes of wool and cheese, a
duty which the Welsh were always very unwilling to fulfil; compelling
the priests to abandon the lax system of discipline which they had
inherited from the ancient British Church, and had contrived to retain
in spite of Lanfranc and Anselm and Theobald; excommunicating the
sheriff and deposing the archdeacon of Brecknock themselves when they
dared to resist his authority, and receiving in 1175, as the reward of
his zeal, the appointment to the vacated archdeaconry.
[2197] Gir. Cambr. _Itin. Kambr._, l. i. c. 12 (Dimock, vol.
vi. p. 92).
Early in the next year his uncle, Bishop David, died. The young
archdeacon had just issued victorious from a sharp struggle in behalf
of the see against the bishop of S. Asaph’s, who had attempted to
encroach upon its rights; the darling wish of his heart was to see it
restored to its ancient metropolitical rank; and he had managed to
kindle in his fellow-canons a spark of the same ambition. They saw
in him the only man capable of bringing their desire to fulfilment,
and made a bold attempt to obtain him for their bishop. By this time,
however, both King Henry and Archbishop Richard had learned enough of
Gerald’s character to perceive that, however useful he might be as an
archdeacon in Wales, he was not at all the man to suit their purposes
as bishop of any Welsh see, least of all as bishop of S. David’s.
Henry, with a burst of fury, summarily refused the nomination of the
chapter; a long wrangle ended in the appointment of Peter de Leia,
prior of the Cluniac house of Much Wenlock, to the vacant see. Peter,
being a foreigner, a monk, and a man of no great intellectual capacity,
was utterly unable either to rule his turbulent Welsh flock or to cope
with his self-willed and quick-witted Welsh canons; Gerald undertook to
teach him his duties, but found him such an unsatisfactory pupil that
he soon gave up the task in disgust, and again betook himself to Paris.
There he remained, studying civil and canon law, and lecturing at the
same time with great success, till the summer of 1180, when he returned
to England, was received by the chapter of Canterbury at a great
banquet on Trinity Sunday, and thence proceeded into Wales. He found
Bishop Peter at his wits’ end, and the diocese in utter confusion,
which he at once set himself to remedy after his own fashion. Thus
matters went on till 1184, when Henry on his last hurried visit to
England found time to intervene once more in the troubled affairs of
South Wales. He called a council on the border, summoned Gerald to meet
him there, and employed him to arrange the final submission of his
cousin Rees to the English Crown; and then he dexterously removed the
over-zealous archdeacon from a sphere where he was likely henceforth to
be more dangerous than useful, by making him one of his own chaplains,
and sending him next year to Ireland in attendance upon John. John came
back in September; Gerald lingered till the following Easter. Two books
were the fruit of this visit: a _Topography of Ireland_, published
in 1187, and dedicated to the king; and the _Conquest of Ireland_,
which came out under the patronage of Count Richard of Poitou in 1188.
Towards the close of that year, when Archbishop Baldwin went to preach
the Crusade in Wales, Gerald accompanied him half as interpreter, half
as guide. An _Itinerary of Wales_ forms the record of this expedition,
which was followed by a journey over sea, still in the company of the
archbishop, with whom Gerald seems to have remained in more or less
close attendance upon Henry’s movements until the final catastrophe
in July 1189. He then offered his services to Richard, who sent him
home once more to his old task of helping to keep order in South
Wales. For a while he found favour with all parties;[2198] William
of Longchamp offered him the bishopric of Bangor, John, in his day
of power after William’s fall, offered him that of Landaff. Gerald
however refused them both, as he had already refused two Irish sees;
he cared in fact for no preferment short of the metropolitan chair
of S. David. Shut out of Paris by the war between Richard and Philip
Augustus, he withdrew to Lincoln and resumed his theological studies
under its chancellor William, whom he had known in his earlier college
days on the Mont-Ste.-Geneviève, till in the summer of 1198 he was
roused to action once more by the death of Bishop Peter de Leia. The
fight began at once; the chapter of S. David’s nominated Gerald for
the vacant see; the archbishop of Canterbury, Hubert Walter, set his
face against the nomination; they defied his authority and appealed to
king and Pope; Gerald himself fought his own battle and that of the see
with indomitable courage, at home and abroad, for nearly four years;
but the canons were less resolute than their bishop-elect, he found
himself at last fighting alone against the world, and in 1202 he gave
up the struggle and withdrew to spend the rest of his life in the quiet
pursuit of letters.[2199]
[2198] Gerald himself goes so far as to say, with respect to
Richard’s appointment of William of Longchamp as justiciar,
“cui archidiaconum adjunxit” (_De Rebus a se gestis_, dist. ii.
c. 21, Brewer, vol. i. p. 84). We find however no hint of such
a thing elsewhere.
[2199] Gerald’s life may be studied in his own book, _De Rebus
a se gestis_, published in the first volume of the Rolls
edition of his works; and, more conveniently, in Mr. Brewer’s
preface to the same volume.
For nearly thirty years it had been the aim of Gerald’s highest
ambition to be the S. Thomas of his native land. He had struggled and
suffered for the privileges of S. David’s in the same spirit in which
Thomas had struggled and suffered for those of Canterbury, and it is
by no means unlikely that had the occasion ever arisen, he would have
been found ready to follow his model even unto death.[2200] But,
unlike Thomas, he knew when to yield; and instead of dying for a lost
cause, was content to live for posterity. Both men have had their
fitting reward. Gerald the Welshman--“Giraldus Cambrensis”--still lives
in his writings under the title won for him by his ardent patriotism;
he lives however for us not as the champion of Welsh ecclesiastical
independence, but as what he has been called by a writer of our own
day--“the father of our popular literature.”[2201] Gerald’s first
essay in authorship was made at the age of twenty; he was still busy
with his pen when past his seventieth year;[2202] and all through the
intervening half-century, every spare moment of his active, restless
career was devoted to literary composition. His last years were
spent in revising and embellishing the hasty productions of these
earlier and briefer intervals of leisure. Even in their more finished
shape, however, they still bear the impress of their origin. They
breathe in all its fulness a spirit of which we catch the first faint
indications in William of Malmesbury, and which may be described in
one word as the spirit of modern journalism. Gerald’s wide range of
subjects is only less remarkable than the ease and freedom with which
he treats them. Whatever he touches--history, archæology, geography,
natural science, politics, the social life and thought of the day,
the physical peculiarities of Ireland and the manners and customs of
its people, the picturesque scenery and traditions of his own native
land, the scandals of the court and of the cloister, the petty struggle
for the primacy of Wales and the great tragedy of the fall of the
Angevin empire--is all alike dealt with in the bold, dashing, offhand
style of a modern newspaper or magazine-article. His first important
work, the _Topography of Ireland_, is, with due allowance for the
difference between the tastes of the twelfth century and those of the
nineteenth, just such a series of sketches as a special correspondent
in our own day might send from some newly-colonized island in the
Pacific to satisfy or to whet the curiosity of his readers at home.
The book made no small stir in the contemporary world of letters.
Sober, old-fashioned scholars stood aghast at this daring Welshman’s
disregard of all classical traditions and literary conventionalities,
at the colloquialisms of his style, and still more at the audacity of
his stories.[2203] For Gerald, determined to entertain his readers no
matter by what means, and secure in their universal ignorance of the
country which he professed to be describing, had raked together all the
marvellous and horrible tales that could be found in Irish traditionary
lore or devised by the inventive genius of his Irish informants;
and the more frightful and impossible these stories were, the more
greedily did he seize upon them and publish them. Irish scholars,
almost from that day to this, have justly declaimed against Gerald
for his atrocious libels upon their country and its people; yet the
fact remains that, in the words of one of his latest editors, “to his
industry we are exclusively indebted for all that is known of the state
of Ireland during the whole of the middle ages.”[2204] His treatise
_De Expugnatione Hiberniæ_ is by far the most complete and authentic
account which we possess of the English or Norman conquest of Ireland.
The _Topographia_, despite its glaring faults, has a special merit of
its own; its author “must” (as says the writer already quoted) “take
rank with the first who descried the value, and, in some respects, the
proper limits of descriptive geography.”[2205]
[2200] That Thomas was Gerald’s chosen model may be seen all
through his writings. He harps upon the martyr’s life and death
somewhat as Thomas himself harped upon the life of Anselm.
[2201] Green, _Hist. Eng. People_, vol. i. p. 172.
[2202] Gir. Cambr. _De Jure Menev. Eccles._, dist. vii.
(Dimock, vol. iii. pp. 372, 373).
[2203] Gir. Cambr. _Expugn. Hibern._, introit. (Dimock, vol. v.
p. 209).
[2204] Brewer, _Gir. Cambr._, vol. i. pref. p. xl.
[2205] _Ibid._
A far better specimen of his work in this direction is his _Welsh
Itinerary_, followed some three or four years later by a _Description
of Wales_.[2206] Here Gerald is on familiar and congenial ground,
dealing with a subject which he thoroughly knows and understands,
describing a country which he ardently loves and a people with whom,
although by no means blind or indulgent to their faults, he is yet
heartily in sympathy, because he is one of themselves. In these
treatises therefore we see him at his very best, both as a writer
and as a man. In his own opinion the best of all his works was the
_Gemma Ecclesiastica_,[2207] or _Jewel of the Church_, a handbook of
instructions on the moral and religious duties of the priesthood,
compiled for the clergy of his own archdeaconry of Brecknock. To
modern readers it is interesting only for the glimpse which it affords
of the social, moral and intellectual condition of the South-Welsh
clergy in his day. In his _Mirror of the Church_[2208] the general
state of religious society and ecclesiastical discipline, at home and
abroad, is reflected as unsparingly as in the satires of Walter Map.
The remainder of Gerald’s extant works are of the most miscellaneous
character--a half-finished autobiography, a book of _Invectives_
against his enemies political and ecclesiastical, a collection of
letters, poems and speeches, a treatise on the _Rights of the Church of
S. David’s_, some Lives of contemporary bishops, a tract nominally _On
the Education of Princes_, but really occupied for the most part with
a bitter attack upon the characters of Henry II. and his sons.[2209]
All of them are, more or less, polemical pamphlets, coloured throughout
by the violent personal antipathies of the writer,[2210] but valuable
for the countless side-lights which they cast upon the social life of
the period. As we read their bold language, we can scarcely wonder at
Archbishop Hubert’s relentless determination to put down their author
by every means in his power. But though Gerald the bishop-elect of
S. David’s was no match for the primate of all England, Gerald the
pamphleteer wielded a force against which the religious authority
of the metropolitan and the hostility of the older race of scholars
were both alike powerless. He and his colleagues in the new school of
literature had at their back the whole strength of the class to which
they belonged, a class of men who were rapidly taking the place of the
clergy as leaders of the intellectual life and thought of the nation.
When old-fashioned critics lifted up their protest against Gerald’s
_Irish Topography_, he boldly carried the book down to Oxford, “where
the most learned and famous English clerks were then to be found,” and
read it out publicly to as many as chose to come and hear it. “And
as there were three distinctions or divisions in the work, and each
division occupied a day, the readings lasted three successive days.
On the first day he received and entertained at his lodgings all the
poor of the town; on the next day all the doctors of the different
faculties, and such of their pupils as were of fame and note; on the
third day the rest of the scholars, with the knights, townsmen and many
burgesses.”[2211] If some of the elder teachers shook their heads, it
mattered little to Gerald; their murmurs were lost in the applause
of a younger generation which hailed him as one of its own most
distinguished representatives.
[2206] Dimock, vol. vi.
[2207] Brewer, vol. ii.
[2208] _Speculum Ecclesiæ_ (Brewer, vol. iv.).
[2209] Gerald’s works have all been edited for the Rolls
series by Mr. Brewer and Mr. Dimock, except the _Vitæ Sex
Episcoporum_, which are in Wharton’s _Anglia Sacra_, vol. ii.,
and _De Instructione Principum_, which has been published by
the Anglia Christiana Society.
[2210] It is only fair to note that Gerald at the close of his
life published a little book of _Retractations_, printed in
first volume of his works (ed. Brewer).
[2211] Gir. Cambr. _De Rebus a se gestis_, l. ii. c. 16
(Brewer, vol. i. pp. 72, 73). I have availed myself of Mr.
Brewer’s translation of the passage, in his preface to the same
volume, p. xlvii.
The spirit which breathes through the pages of Gerald and Walter is
the spirit of the rising universities. The word “university” indeed,
as applied to the great seats of learning in the twelfth century,
is somewhat of an anachronism; the earliest use of it in the modern
sense, in reference to Oxford, occurs under Henry III.;[2212] and
the University of Paris appears by that name for the first time in
1215,[2213] the year of our own Great Charter. But although the title
was not yet in use, the institution now represented by it was one of
the most important creations of the age. The school of Bologna sprang
into life under the impulse given by Irnerius, a teacher who opened
lectures upon the Roman civil law in 1113.[2214] Nearly forty years
later, when Gratian had published his famous book on the Decretals,
a school of canon law was instituted in the same city by Pope Eugene
III.; and in 1158 the body of teachers who formed what we call the
University won a charter of privileges from the Emperor Frederic
Barbarossa.[2215] We have already, in the course of our story, had
more than one glimpse of the great school of arts and theology which
was growing up during the same period in Paris. There, where the study
of divinity had long found a congenial home under the shadow of the
cathedral church, William of Champeaux in 1109--the year of S. Anselm’s
death--opened on the Mont-Ste.-Geneviève a school of logic which in a
few years became the most frequented in Europe. Under his successors,
Abelard and Peter Lombard (the latter of whom was made bishop of Paris
in 1159), the schools of Paris became the centre of the intellectual
life of Christendom.[2216] Teachers and scholars from every nation met
on equal terms, as fellow-citizens of a new and world-wide commonwealth
of learning, on the slopes of the “Mount,” and went forth again to
carry into the most distant lands the instruction which they had
acquired. There a Wiltshire lad could begin a lifelong intimacy with
a youth from Champagne;--could pass from the lectures of Abelard to
those of a master who, though disguised under the title of “Robert of
Melun,” was in reality a fellow-countryman of his own; could enter the
_quadrivium_ under the guidance of a German teacher, make acquaintance
with Aristotle by the help of another learned Englishman, and complete
his theological studies, it may be, under the same Robert Pulein whom
we saw lecturing at Oxford some twelve or thirteen years before.[2217]
There a scholar from the Welsh marches could sit at the feet of the
English master Gerard La Pucelle,[2218] and another from the depths of
Pembroke could give lectures on rhetoric and could study theology with
William of Blois, who in after-days came at the call of the Burgundian
S. Hugh to undertake the direction of a school at Lincoln.[2219] There
Ralf de Diceto was a fellow-student with Arnulf of Lisieux;[2220]
there, in all likelihood, John of Salisbury met Nicolas Breakspear and
Thomas Becket. Thence, we cannot doubt, came through some of these
wandering scholars the impulse which called the schools of Oxford into
being. The first token of their existence is the appearance of Robert
Pulein in 1133. From that time forth the intellectual history of Oxford
is again blank till the coming of Vacarius in 1149; and it is not till
the reign of Henry II. has all but closed that we begin to discern any
lasting result from the visits of these two teachers. Then, however,
the words of Gerald would alone suffice to shew that the University
was to all intents and purposes full-grown. It had its different
“faculties” of teachers, its scholars of various grades; and the little
city in the meadows by the Isis, famous already in ecclesiastical
legend and in political and military history, had by this time won
the character which was henceforth to be its highest and most abiding
glory, as the resort of all “the most learned and renowned clerks in
England.”
[2212] Anstey, _Munimenta Academica_, vol. i. introd. p. xxxiv.
[2213] Mullinger, _Univ. Cambridge_, p. 71 (from Savigny,
_Gesch. des Röm. Rechts_, c. xxi. sec. 127).
[2214] _Ib._ pp. 36, 37, 72.
[2215] Mullinger, _Univ. Camb._, p. 73.
[2216] _Ib._ pp. 75–77.
[2217] See above, vol. i. pp. 480–483.
[2218] See above, p. 449.
[2219] _Ib._ pp. 453, 456.
[2220] Arn. Lisieux, Ep. 16 (Giles, pp. 100, 101).
On a site less favoured by nature, Oxford’s future rival was more
slowly growing up. A lift of slightly higher ground above the left bank
of the river Grant--better known to us now as the Cam--on the southern
margin of what was then and for five hundred years afterwards a vast
tract of flood-drowned fen stretching northward as far as the Wash,
there stood at the close of the seventh century--long before Oxford
makes its first appearance in history--a “little waste chester”[2221]
representing what had once been the Roman city of Camboritum. At
the coming of the Normans the place was known as Grantebridge, and
contained some three or four hundred houses, twenty-seven of which were
pulled down by the Conqueror’s orders to make room for the erection of
a castle.[2222] It may be that here, as at Lincoln, the inhabitants
thus expelled went to make for themselves a new home beyond the river;
and a church of S. Benet which still survives, and whose tower might
pass for a twin-sister of Robert D’Oilly’s tower of S. Michael’s at
Oxford, may have been the nucleus of a new town which sprang up half a
mile to the south-east of the old one, on the right bank of the Cam.
Around this new town there gathered in the course of the following
century a fringe of religious foundations. The “round church” of the
Holy Sepulchre, clearly a work of the time of Henry I., was probably
built by some crusader whose imagination had been fired by the sight
of its prototype at Jerusalem. A Benedictine nunnery, part of whose
beautiful church now serves as the chapel of Jesus College, was
established under the invocation of S. Radegund early in the reign of
Stephen; an hospital dedicated to S. John the Evangelist was founded
at some time between 1133 and 1169 under the patronage of Bishop
Nigel of Ely. This hospital, like most institutions of the kind, may
have been served by canons regular of the order of S. Augustine. Some
years before this, however, the Augustinians had made a more important
settlement in the same neighbourhood. As early as 1092 Picot the
sheriff of Cambridgeshire had founded within the older town on the left
bank of the river a church of S. Giles, to be served by four regular
canons. In 1112 this little college was removed to Barnwell, some two
miles to the north-eastward, on the opposite side of the river, where
it grew into a flourishing Austin priory. Wherever there were Austin
canons a school was sure to spring up ere long; so, too, we cannot
doubt, it was at Cambridge. Whether the seeds of learning were first
sown in the cloisters of S. John’s or of Barnwell, or under the shadow
of that old S. Benet’s which seems to have been the original University
church[2223]--who it was that played here the part which had been
played at Oxford by Robert Pulein--we know not; but we do know that by
the middle of the following century the old Grantebridge had sunk into
a mere suburb of the new town beyond the river, and the existence of
the schools of Cambridge had become an established fact.[2224]
[2221] Bæda, _Hist. Eccles._, l. iv. c. 19.
[2222] Domesday, vol. i. p. 189.
[2223] See Mullinger, _Univ. Camb._, p. 299, note 3; and Willis
and Clark, _Archit. Hist. Cambr._, vol. i. p. 276 and note 3.
[2224] On the rise of Cambridge--town and university--see
Mullinger, _Univ. Camb._, pp. 332–334. The schools were not
formally recognized as an “University” till 1318; _ib._ p. 145.
For S. Radegund’s see Dugdale, _Monast. Angl._, vol. iv. pp.
215, 216; for Barnwell, _ib._ vol. vi. pt. i. pp. 83–87; for S.
John’s Hospital, _ib._ pt. ii. p. 755. The present S. John’s
College stands on the site of the hospital.
The student-life of the twelfth century--whether it were the life of
scholar or of teacher--had nothing either of the ease or the dignity
which we associate with the college life of to-day. Colleges in the
modern sense there were indeed none. Students of all ranks and ages,
from boys of ten or twelve years to men in full priestly orders, lodged
as they could in a sort of dames’-houses or hostels scattered up and
down the streets and lanes of the city. The schools were entirely
unendowed; there was no University chest, no common fund, no pecuniary
aid of any kind for either scholars or teachers. The sole support of
both was, at first, the power under whose sheltering wings the school
had grown up--the Church. Every book, even, had to be either bought
out of their own private purses or borrowed from the library of some
religious establishment. We may perhaps gather some idea of what
this latter resource was likely to furnish in the great educational
centres from a catalogue which has been preserved to us of the library
attached to Lincoln minster, at the time when the Lincoln school of
theology was at the height of its fame under Gerald’s friend William
of Blois and the saintly bishop Hugh. Five-and-thirty years before
Hugh’s appointment to the see, the church of Lincoln possessed, in
addition to the necessary service-books which were under the care of
the treasurer, some thirty or forty books in the chancellor’s keeping.
Among these we find, besides a number of Psalters, works of the Latin
Fathers, Epistles, Gospels, and a complete Bible in two volumes, the
Canons, Statutes and Decretals of the Popes;--the Decretals edited by
Ivo of Chartres;--the works of Vergil: a copy of the military treatise
of Vegetius, bound up with the Roman History of Eutropius, “which
volume Master Gerard gave in exchange for the Consolations of Boëthius,
which he lost”;--Priscian’s Grammar:--a “Mappa Mundi”: and a _Book of
the Foundation of Lincoln Minster_, with a collection of its charters.
Of nine books presented by Bishop Robert de Chesney, who died in
1166, the most noticeable were the works of Josephus and of Eusebius,
and the _Sentences_ of Peter Lombard. Somewhat later, one Warin of
Hibaldstow presented to the chapter a “book of Aristotle”--doubtless a
Latin version of his treatise on logic or on natural philosophy--and
seven volumes, whose contents are not stated, were given by Master
“Radulphus Niger” or Ralf the Black, known to us as one of the minor
chroniclers of King Henry’s later years. A copy of Gratian’s great book
of Decretals was presented about the same time by an archdeacon of
Leicester; Gerald de Barri, probably during his residence at Lincoln at
the close of Richard’s reign, added another law-book called _Summula
super Decreta_, a copy of S. Anselm’s treatise _Cur Deus Homo_, and
three of his own works, the _Topographia Hiberniæ_, the _Life of Bishop
Remigius_, and the _Gemma Sacerdotalis_ or _Ecclesiastica_; and the
list closes with another copy of the _Sentences_, acquired seemingly in
the early years of the following century.[2225]
[2225] See the Catalogues of Lincoln cathedral library in the
twelfth century, in _Gir. Cambr. Opp._, vol. vii. (Dimock and
Freeman), App. C., pp. 165–171.
The head of the scholastic body was the chancellor, who was an officer
of the diocesan bishop--in the case of Oxford, the bishop of Lincoln.
From him those who had reached a certain degree of proficiency in the
schools received their license to become teachers in their turn; and it
was an established rule that all who had attained the rank of Master
or Doctor should devote themselves for a certain time to the work of
instructing others. They gave their lectures how and where they could,
in cloister or church-porch, or in their own wretched lodgings, their
pupils sitting literally at their feet, huddled all together on the
bare ground; their living depended solely on their school-fees, and
these were often received with one hand only to be paid away again with
the other, for many an ardent young teacher of logic or rhetoric was,
like John of Salisbury and Gerald de Barri, at one and the same time
giving lectures in these arts to less advanced scholars and pursuing
his own studies under some great doctor of theology. The course of
study was much the same everywhere. From the fifth century downwards
it had consisted of two divisions, _trivium_ and _quadrivium_. Under
the former head were comprised Grammar, defined by an early teacher
as the art of “writing and reading learnedly, understanding and
judging skilfully;”[2226] Dialectics, including logic and metaphysics;
and Rhetoric, by which were meant the rules and figures of the art,
chiefly derived from Cicero. The Quadrivium included Geometry, not so
much the science now known by that name as what we call geography;
Arithmetic, which in the middle ages meant the science of mystical
numbers; Music, in other words metre and harmony; and Astronomy, of
course on the Ptolemaic system, although as early as the fifth century
a theory had been put forth which is said to have given in after-days
the clue to Copernicus.[2227] There was a separate faculty of Theology,
and another of Law. Between these different faculties there seems to
have been a good deal of jealousy. The highest authorities of the
Western Church, while encouraging by every means in their power the
study of the canon law, set their faces steadily against the civil law
of imperial Rome; the “religious” were over and over again forbidden
to have anything to do with it: and on the continent the two branches
of the legal profession were followed by different persons. As,
however, the procedure of the canon law was founded upon that of the
Theodosian code, the English clerical lawyers in Stephen’s time and in
Henry’s early years found their account in combining the two studies;
by degrees both together passed out of the hands of the clergy into
those of a new class of lay lawyers; and in later days, while on the
continent the canon law fell into neglect with its exclusively clerical
professors, in England it was preserved by being linked with the civil
law under the care of lay _doctores utriusque juris_.[2228]
[2226] “Docte scribere legereque, erudite intelligere
probareque.” Martianus Capella, quoted by Mullinger, _Univ.
Camb._, pp. 24, 25.
[2227] Mullinger, _Univ. Camb._, pp. 24–26.
[2228] _Ib._ pp. 37–39.
Theology had, however, a yet more formidable rival in the schools
of logic. The text-book commonly used in these schools was a Latin
translation, made by Boëthius in the sixth century, of part of
Aristotle’s treatise upon logic. Early in the twelfth century the
natural philosophy of Aristotle was in some measure rendered accessible
to western students through translations made by travelled scholars
such as Adelard of Bath from Arabic versions which they had picked
up in the schools of Salerno or of the remoter East. Of the “Ethics”
nothing was known save a few fragments imbedded in the works of Latin
writers, until a hundred years later, when they found their way back to
Europe, probably in the train of the returning crusaders, and certainly
in a very strange shape--that of a Latin translation from a Hebrew
version of what was, after all, nothing more than an Arabic commentary
founded upon a Syriac version of the original Greek text.[2229] Garbled
as it was, however, this new Aristotelian lore revolutionized the
schools of western Christendom by laying open to them wholly new fields
of criticism and speculation. The spirit of free inquiry in which
Adelard had begun to deal with physical science invaded every region of
intellectual thought and knowledge, while the spread of legal studies
helped to the invention of new methods of argument and disputation. In
vain did Peter Lombard, in the famous book which gained for him his
title of “Master of the Sentences,” strive to stem the rising tide
and counterwork the influence of the rationalizing dialecticians by
applying to the purposes of theology the methods of their own favourite
science. The “Sentences” remained the accepted text-book of theology
down to the cataclysm in the sixteenth century; but their effect was
precisely the opposite to that which their author had desired.[2230]
The endless “doubtful disputations,” the hair-splittings, the “systems
of impossibilities,” which had already taken possession of the
logic-schools in John of Salisbury’s day, were even more irritating
to the practical mind and impetuous temper of Gerald de Barri. They
were in fact ruining both theology and letters. “Our scholars,” Gerald
complains, “for the sake of making a shew, have betaken themselves
to subjects which rather savour of the quadrivium:--questions of
single and compound, shadow and motion, points and lines, acute and
obtuse angles--that they may display a smattering of learning in the
quadrivium, whereof the studies flourish more in the East than in
the West; and thence they have proceeded to the maintaining of false
positions, the propounding of insoluble problems, the spinning of
frivolous and long-winded discourses, not in the best of Latin, hereby
holding up in their own disputations a warning of the consequences
ensuing from their abandonment of the study of letters.”[2231] Yet it
was from those very schools that Gerald himself, and men like him, had
caught the fearless temper, the outspoken, unrestrained tone, in which
they exposed and criticized not only every conspicuous individual,
but every institution and every system, alike in the world and in the
Church of their day. The democratic spirit of independence which had
characterized the strictly clerical reformers of an earlier day had
passed from the ranks of the priesthood into those of the universities,
and had taken a mightier developement there. It was mainly through
them that the nation at large entered in some degree into the labours
of Theobald and his fellow-workers; it was they themselves who entered
into the labours of Thomas Becket. A large proportion of both students
and teachers--a proportion which grew larger and larger as time went
on--were laymen; but an inveterate legal fiction still counted them all
as “clerks.” The schools had grown up under the wings of the Church,
and when they reached their full stature, they were strong enough both
to free themselves from the control of the ecclesiastical authorities
and to keep the privileges for which the clergy had fought. A priest
of the English Church in our own day is as completely subject to the
ordinary law of the land as any of his flock; but the chancellor’s
court of the University of Oxford still possesses sole cognizance over
all causes whatsoever, in all parts of the realm, which concern any
resident member of the University.[2232]
[2229] Mullinger, _Univ. Camb._, pp. 94–96 and notes.
[2230] _Ib._ pp. 58–62.
[2231] Gir. Cambr. _Gemma Eccles._, dist. ii. c. 37 (Brewer,
vol. ii. p. 355). Cf. _ib._ pp. 350, 351, and _Spec. Eccles._,
dist. i. proœm. (vol. iv. pp. 4–9).
[2232] This privilege was secured by a charter of Edward III.;
it was successfully asserted as lately as January 1886.
Not the universities, however, but the towns, were the true strongholds
of English freedom. The struggle of the English towns for municipal
liberty which we have seen beginning under Henry I. was renewed
under Henry II. and Richard with increased vigour and success. Henry
Fitz-Empress was far too clear-sighted a statesman to undervalue the
growing importance of this element in English social and political
life. Most of his town-charters, however, date from the earlier years
of his reign, and scarcely any of them contain anything more than
a confirmation of the liberties enjoyed in his grandfather’s time,
with the addition in some cases of a few new privileges, carefully
defined and strictly limited.[2233] In the great commercial cities,
where the municipal movement had probably received a fresh impulse
from the extension of trade and intercourse with the continent which
was a natural consequence of Henry’s accession to the crown, the
merchant-gilds soon began openly to aim at gathering into their
own hands the whole powers of local government and administration,
and acquiring the position of a French “commune.” The French kings
encouraged the growth of the communal principle as a possible
counterpoise to the power of the feudal nobles; Henry, who had little
need of it for such a purpose, saw the dangers which it threatened
to his system of government and held it steadily in check. In 1170
Aylwine the Mercer, Henry Hund and “the other men of the town” paid
a heavy fine to the treasury for an attempt to set up a commune at
Gloucester;[2234] six years later one Thomas “From-beyond-the-Ouse”
paid twenty marks for a like offence at York.[2235] Owing to the close
connexion between the organization of the commune and that of the
gilds, every developement of this latter institution also was watched
by the Crown with jealous care; in 1164 the burghers of Totnes, those
of Lidford and those of Bodmin were all fined for setting up gilds
without warrant from the king;[2236] and in 1180 no less than eighteen
“adulterine gilds” in London met with a similar punishment.[2237] Once
established, however, they seem to have been permitted to retain their
existence, for in the first Pipe Roll of Richard we find them again
paying their fines “as they are set down in the twenty-sixth Roll of
King Henry II.”[2238] A bakers’ gild in London, a weavers’ gild at
Nottingham, one of the same craft and another of fullers at Winchester,
make their appearance as authorized bodies at the opening of Henry’s
reign;[2239] among the “adulterine gilds” of London were those of
the butchers, goldsmiths, grocers, clothiers and pilgrims.[2240] The
golden days of English borough-life, however, began with the crowning
of Henry’s successor. “When History drops her drums and trumpets and
learns to tell the story of Englishmen”--as he who wrote these words
has told it--“it will find the significance of Richard, not in his
crusade or in his weary wars along the Norman border, but in his lavish
recognition of municipal life.”[2241] In his first seven years alone,
we find him granting charters to Winchester, Northampton, Norwich,
Ipswich, Doncaster, Carlisle, Lincoln, Scarborough and York. Some of
these towns were only beginning their career of independence, and were
content with the first step of all, the purchase of the _firma burgi_;
some bought a confirmation of privileges already acquired; Lincoln in
1194 had got so far as to win from the king a formal recognition of its
right to complete self-government in a clause empowering its citizens
to elect their own reeve every year.[2242] King of knights-errant
and troubadours as he seemed, Richard, it is plain, could read the
signs of the times as clearly and act upon their warnings as promptly
and as wisely as any of his race; and we may be very sure that this
bold advance upon his father’s cautious policy towards the towns was
dictated by a sound political instinct far more than by the mere greed
of gain. John went still further in the same direction; the first
fifteen years of his reign afford examples of town-charters of every
type, from the elementary grant of the _firma burgi_ and the freedom of
the merchant-gild to the little Cornish borough of Helston[2243] up to
the crowning privilege bestowed upon the “barons of our city of London”
in 1215, of electing their own mayor every year.[2244]
[2233] Stubbs, _Select Charters_, pp. 165–168.
[2234] Madox, _Hist. Exch._, vol. i. p. 563, from Pipe Roll 16
Hen. II.
[2235] Madox, _Firma Burgi_, p. 35, from Pipe Roll 22 Hen. II.
[2236] Madox, _Hist. Exch._, vol. i. pp. 562, 563.
[2237] _Ib._ p. 562, from Pipe Roll 26 Hen. II.
[2238] Pipe Roll 1 Ric. I. (Hunter), p. 226.
[2239] Pipe Roll 2 Hen. II. (Hunter), pp. 4, 39, 52.
[2240] “Aurifabrorum,” “Bocheiorum,” “Piperariorum,”
“Parariorum,” “Peregrinorum.” There are four gilds “de Ponte”;
one “de S. Lazaro”; one “de Haliwell”; the rest are described
simply as “the gild whereof So-and-so is alderman.” Madox,
_Hist. Exch._, vol. i. p. 562, note _z_.
[2241] Green, _Stray Studies_, p. 216.
[2242] Northampton bought the _firma burgi_ in 1191, Norwich
in 1192, Ipswich and Doncaster in 1194 (Madox as above, pp.
399, 400, from Pipe Rolls); Winchester bought a confirmation
of its liberties in 1190 (Stubbs, _Select Chart._, pp. 265,
266), Carlisle in 1194, York and Scarborough in 1195 (Madox
as above). The Lincoln charter is given by Bishop Stubbs, as
above, pp. 266, 267; for its date see Pipe Roll 6 Ric. I.,
quoted by Madox, as above, p. 400.
[2243] Stubbs, _Select Charters_, pp. 313, 314.
[2244] _Ib._ pp. 314, 315. John’s town-charters are all in the
_Rotuli Chartarum_, edited by Sir T. D. Hardy for the Record
Commission. See also extracts from Pipe Rolls in Madox, _Hist.
Exch._, vol. i. pp. 400 _et seq._
From the charter of Henry I. to the establishment of the commune under
Richard the constitutional history of London is shrouded in obscurity.
The charter granted by Henry II. to the citizens, some time before
the end of 1158, is simply a confirmation of his grandfather’s.[2245]
During the first fifteen years of his reign two sheriffs of London
appear annually in the Pipe Rolls; in 1171 there were four, as there
had been in the thirty-first year of Henry I.; but in the twentieth
year of Henry II., 1171, we find that their number was again reduced to
two; and from 1182 onwards there seems to have been only one, till at
Michaelmas 1189 the accounts were rendered by Richard Fitz-Reiner and
Henry of Cornhill, both of whom continued in office till 1191.[2246]
In that year, as we have seen, the commune won its legal recognition
from John and Archbishop Walter of Rouen as representatives of the
absent king;[2247] and although the charter which Richard issued to the
citizens of London, shortly before his final departure from England in
1194, is a mere echo of his father’s,[2248] yet the existence of the
new corporation is thenceforth a recognized fact. John’s first charter
to London was issued from Normandy six weeks after his crowning. It
renewed the old grant of the sheriffdom of London and Middlesex, with
all rights and customs thereunto belonging, to the citizens and their
heirs, to have and to hold of the king and his heirs for ever. They
were to appoint as sheriffs any of their own number whom they might
choose, and to remove them at their pleasure; and for this privilege
they were to pay, through the said sheriffs, three hundred pounds
a year to the Treasury.[2249] The establishment of the commune had
reduced the sheriffs to the rank of mere financial officers, and the
real head of the civic administration was the mayor. The first mayor
of London, Henry Fitz-Aylwine, retained his office for life; and his
life extended beyond the limits of our present story. Yet the true
significance of that story is strikingly illustrated by the next
step in the history of London, a step which followed two years after
Fitz-Aylwine’s death. On May 9, 1215, John granted to the “barons of
the city of London” the right of annually electing their mayor.[2250]
Five weeks later the barons of England compelled him to sign, in the
meadows of Runnymede, the Great Charter which secured the liberties
not of one city only but of the whole English people; and among the
five-and-twenty men whom they chose from among themselves to enforce
its execution was Serlo the Mercer, mayor of London.[2251]
[2245] Charter in Riley’s _Munimenta Gildhallæ_, vol. ii. part
i. pp. 31, 32. It is witnessed by “archiepiscopo Cantuariæ” and
“Ricardo episcopo Londoniarum”; _i.e._ Richard of London who
died in May 1162, and Theobald who died in April 1161. As it is
certain that neither of these two prelates ever crossed the sea
after Henry’s accession, the charter must have been issued in
England, and therefore before Henry went abroad in August 1158.
[2246] Stubbs, _Constit. Hist._, vol. i. p. 629.
[2247] Above, p. 301.
[2248] Riley, _Munim. Gildh._, vol. ii. pt. i. pp. 248, 249.
Date, Winchester, April 23, 1194.
[2249] Riley, _Munim. Gildh._, vol. ii. pt. i. pp. 249–251.
Date, Bonneville, July 5, 1199.
[2250] Stubbs, _Select Charters_, pp. 314, 315.
[2251] Mat. Paris, _Chron. Maj._ (Luard), vol. ii. p. 605.
Little, indeed, as the burghers themselves may have dreamed of any
such thing, the highest importance of their struggle for municipal
liberty lies in this, that its fruits were to be reaped by a far larger
community than was inclosed within the town-walls. It was from the
burghers that their brethren in the rural districts caught once more
the spirit of freedom which ages of oppression had well-nigh crushed
out of their hearts. “‘Ketel’s case’” at Bury S. Edmund’s--the case
of a tenant of the abbey who, dwelling “outside the gate,” was hanged
for a theft of which he had been found guilty by the Norman process
of the judicial duel usual in the manor-courts, and over whose fate
the townsmen, rejoicing in the Old-English right of compurgation which
they still retained, grew so bitterly sarcastic that the abbot and
the “saner part of the convent” were driven by terror of a peasant
revolt to admit their rural tenants to a share in the judicial
franchise of the town[2252]--was in all probability only one out of
many. The history of this same abbey of S. Edmund’s shews us how even
the villeins were rising into a position more like that of their free
brethren, how the old badges of serfdom, the heavy labour-rents, the
hard customs, were vanishing one by one, and how in this process of
enfranchisement the boroughs led the way.[2253] “The ancient customs
belonging to the cellarer’s office, as we have seen them”--that is,
as Jocelyn of Brakelond, who was a monk of S. Edmund’s from 1172
to 1211, had seen them in the old custom-roll of the house--“were
these: The cellarer had his messuage and barn by the well of Scurun,
where he solemnly held his court for the trial of thieves and of all
pleas and quarrels; and there he received the pledges of his men, and
enrolled them, and renewed them every year, and got gain by it, as
the reeve did in the portmannimot. This messuage was the homestead
of Beodric, who of old time was lord of this township, whence it was
called Beodricesworth; whose demesne lands are now in the demesne of
the cellarer; and what is now called the _aver-land_ was the land of
his rustics. Now the sum of his tenements and those of his men was
three hundred and thirty acres, which are lands still belonging to
the township, whereof the services, when the town was made free, were
divided into two parts; so that the sacristan or the reeve should
receive the quit-rent, that is, twopence on every acre; and the
cellarer should have the ploughings and other services, that is, the
ploughing of one rood for every acre, without food (which custom is
observed still); he was also to have the folds wherein all the men of
the township (except the seneschal, who has his own fold) were bound
to put their sheep (this custom, too, is observed still). He was also
to have the _aver-penny_,[2254] that is twopence for every thirty
acres; this custom was changed before the death of Abbot Hugh (1180).
For the men of the township had to go at the cellarer’s bidding to
Lakenheath, to fetch a load of eels from Southrey, and often they came
back with their carts empty, and so they had their trouble without any
benefit to the cellarer; wherefore it was agreed between them that
every thirty acres should pay a penny a year, and the men should stay
at home. At the present time, however, these lands are so cut up that
scarcely anybody knows from whom the payment is due; so that whereas
I have seen the cellarer receive twenty-seven pence in a year, now he
can hardly get tenpence farthing. Moreover, the cellarer used to have
control over the roads outside the township, so that no one might dig
chalk or clay without his leave. He was also wont to summon the fullers
of the township to lend cloths for carrying his salt; otherwise he
would forbid them the use of the waters, and seize whatever cloths he
found there; which customs are observed unto this day.” “Moreover the
cellarer alone ought, or used, to have one bull free in the fields
of this township; but now several persons have them.” “Moreover the
cellarer used to warrant those who owed service to his court, so that
they were exempt from scot and tallage; but now it is not so, because
the burghers say that those who do service at the court ought to be
exempt for their service, but not for the burgage which they hold in
the town, and forasmuch as they and their wives do publicly buy and
sell in the market.”[2255] After the affair of Ketel, in fact, the
cellarer’s court was merged in that of the town; “it was decreed that
his men should come to the toll-house with the others, and there renew
their pledges, and be written in the reeve’s roll, and there give to
the reeve the penny which is called _borth-silver_, and the cellarer
should have half of it (but he gets nothing at all of it now); and all
this was done, that all might enjoy equal liberty.”[2256]
[2252] Joc. Brakelond (Rokewode), p. 74. See Mr. Green’s _Stray
Studies_, pp. 222–224, and _Hist. Eng. People_, vol. i. pp.
219, 220.
[2253] On all this see Mr. Green’s _Abbot and Town_, in _Stray
Studies_, pp. 213–229.
[2254] “The money paid by the tenant in commutation of the
service (_avera_) of performing any work for his lord by horse
or ox, or by carriage with either.” Greenwell, Glossary to
_Boldon Buke_ (Surtees Soc.)
[2255] Joc. Brakelond (Rokewode), pp. 75, 76.
[2256] _Ib._ p. 74.
“That all might enjoy equal liberty”--Jocelyn’s words had a
significance wider and deeper than he himself could know, wider and
deeper than could be known perhaps even to his abbot from whom they
were probably echoed; although it is clear from almost every page
of Jocelyn’s story that Abbot Sampson of S. Edmund’s was a far more
enlightened and far-seeing statesman than most of the great landowners
of his day, whether secular or tonsured. The rural tenants of S. Edmund
in his time had evidently made a good deal more progress towards
enfranchisement than those of some other great houses, such as, for
example, the abbey of Abingdon. In 1185, on the death of Abbot Roger
of Abingdon, a dispute between the “obedientiaries,” or officers of
the convent to whose support various portions of its revenues were
assigned, and the steward appointed by the king to take charge of
the abbot’s property during the vacancy of his office, led to the
drawing-up of a consuetudinary,[2257] which it would be interesting
to compare with the earlier “Black Book” of Peterborough. A large
proportion of the tenants’ dues were paid in money; but there were
still considerable remnants of the older system. The chamberlain of
the abbey, for instance, had an acre of land at Culham, which the men
of that township were bound to reap and carry to make beds for the
monks. The hay to be laid “under the monks’ feet when they bathed” was
supplied in like manner from a meadow at Stockgrave. A tenant named
Daniel of Colebrook was bound, besides paying a rent of five shillings,
to furnish the chamberlain whenever he went to London with hay for his
horses, with wood and salt, and with straw for his bed. At Welsford,
near Newbury, there were twenty-two “cotset-lands,” whose tenants held
them by their services as swineherds, bedels (or messengers of the
chamberlain’s court), shepherds, hedgewards and such like. Of eleven
rent-paying tenants in the same township, one owed, besides his rent
of twenty-seven pence, his personal service for getting in hay and
stacking corn in August. As the whole township was in demesne, its
inhabitants paid a tribute to the lord--in this case the chamberlain of
the abbey--for the pannage of their pigs; they had also to furnish the
services of one man for harvesting in August, and to lend their ploughs
for bene-work. The men of Boxhole, Benham, Easton and Weston did the
like. At Boxhole, out of twelve tenants, eight were bound, besides
paying their rent, to plough an acre of the demesne and sow it with
their own seed; and seven of these had moreover to carry hay and corn.
One Berner and his sons held a “cotset-land” by a rent of six sextaries
of honey to the cellarer and thirty-one pence to the chamberlain.[2258]
There were twenty-six tenants withdrawn from demesne, of whom six owed
work in August, in addition to their rent; and there were five acres of
meadow which had to be mowed and carried by five men of the township.
At Benham, out of twenty-four tenants, eleven were “cotsetles”; three
of these were servants of the chamberlain, holding their lands by
their service; the rest were to hold by rent or by work, as the lord
might choose[2259]--an arrangement which applied also to the cotters
of Boxhole.[2260] Of the remaining thirteen tenants at Benham, six
paid rent only; the rest were bound also to plough and sow an acre or
half an acre apiece, and to carry corn and hay.[2261] One was excused
the ploughing and sowing, doubtless in consideration of her sex and
condition--she was “Ernive a widow.”[2262] The whole township owed a
customary payment or church-shot of forty-six hens.[2263]
[2257] _Hist. Mon. Abingdon_ (Stevenson), vol. ii. pp. 297, 298.
[2258] _Hist. Mon. Abingdon_ (Stevenson), vol. ii. pp. 300–302.
[2259] _Ib._ pp. 303–305.
[2260] _Ib._ p. 303.
[2261] And this though one of them was no less a personage
than _Gaufridus vicecomes_! What can this mean? _Hist. Mon.
Abingdon_ as above, pp. 304, 305.
[2262] _Ib._ p. 304.
[2263] _Ib._ p. 305.
On the manor of Weston the dues were thus distributed: Robert of
Pont-de-l’Arche held four acres of the abbot “by the service of half
a knight.” One acre belonged to the church of the township; half a
hide was held by John of S. Helen’s, on what terms we are not told.
Of the remainder, over which the chamberlain was lord, half a hide
was in demesne; the rest was distributed in ten portions, held by
thirteen tenants--a hide or half a hide being in three cases held by
two persons conjointly. Two hides and a half were for work or for
gavel, at the option of the lord; in actual practice, however, there
were only two cotters who owed labour instead of, or in addition
to, their money-rent. On the other hand, the right of poundage, or
exemption from impounding of cattle, was paid for in this village by
the ploughing of two acres.[2264] The township of Berton and several
others were bound to furnish sumpter-horses for conveying fish to
the abbey-kitchen thrice a year; the persons responsible for this
service had to pay their own travelling expenses and those of their
horses; but they got each a loaf from the abbey when they left; and
those who could not fulfil the service were allowed to compound for
it with the kitchener “as best they could.” The same manors rendered
each five hundred eggs on the feast of the Nativity of the Blessed
Virgin, at Christmas, Easter, Rogation-tide and Pentecost; and three
hundred at Candlemas and Quinquagesima, besides eighteen hens apiece
at the festivals of S. Martin and at Christmas. They also gave on the
Wednesday before Easter a hundred herrings, which on the following
Thursday were distributed to the poor;[2265] and each of them sent
moreover to the monks’ kitchen, in the course of the year, besides the
eggs and hens already enumerated, twenty-four bushels of beans.[2266]
Eight fisheries were bound to furnish each a certain number of eels on
Ash-Wednesday;[2267] the fishermen who carried the eels to the hall
were entitled to receive thence two loaves apiece.[2268] From another
fishery a money-rent of seventeen shillings was due, paid in three
terms; and its holder owed church-shot of twelve hens.[2269] Berton
furnished five loads of straw, and Culham as many of hay, three times a
year--on Christmas Eve, Easter Eve, and All Saints’ Eve--for strewing
the refectory.[2270] When the chamberlain went to Winchelcombe fair,
the men of Dumbleton were bound to bring home for him whatever he
purchased there; the same duty fell to the tenantry of Welford when he
went to the fair at Winchester.[2271]
[2264] _Hist. Mon. Abingdon_ (Stevenson), vol. ii. pp. 305, 306.
[2265] _Ib._ pp. 307, 308.
[2266] _Ib._ p. 323.
[2267] _Ib._ pp. 308, 323.
[2268] _Ib._ p. 308.
[2269] _Ib._ p. 309.
[2270] _Ib._ p. 313.
[2271] _Ib._ pp. 326, 327.
If we compare this Abingdon consuetudinary of 1185 with the
Peterborough Black Book of 1128, the main result seems to be this:
the Abingdon dues are quite as heavy, if not heavier, but the
labour-services are much lighter. We must not indeed assume that the
difference is wholly owing to progress made during the half-century
which elapsed between the compilation of the two books; the customs
of different localities varied in all ages, and those of Abingdon may
never have been so hard as those of Peterborough. On the estates of the
bishop of Durham, on the other hand, when Hugh of Puiset took account
of his dues in 1183, the old labour-rents and customs seem to have
subsisted almost without alteration. A large proportion of the villeins
on the bishop’s manors were holders of two bovates or oxgangs of thirty
acres each, for which each man paid two shillings and sixpence for
scot-pennies, half a chalder of oats, sixteen pence for aver-pennies,
five cart-loads of wood, two hens and ten eggs; he had to work for the
lord three days every week throughout the year except Easter-week,
Whitsun-week and the twelve days of Christmas; moreover, he and all his
family, except the house-wife, had to do in autumn four days boon-work
in reaping; besides this, he had to reap three roods of _averipe_ (ripe
oats), and plough and harrow three roods of _averere_ (oat-stubble).
Each villein plough had to plough and harrow two acres; on this
occasion the villeins had a corrody from the bishop, and so they had on
occasion of a great boon-work. They were to harrow whenever required;
to perform services of carting, for which they got every man a loaf; to
make each one booth for the fair of S. Cuthbert; “and when they make
lodges” (possibly for the bishop’s hunting) “and cart wood, they are
free of other work.” These were the services due from twenty-two out
of the thirty-six tenants on the manor of Boldon. Of the remainder,
twelve were “cotmen,” holding each twelve acres and working throughout
the year, except at the above-named seasons, two days a week, and
rendering twelve hens and sixty eggs. One man held two oxgangs of
thirty-seven acres, at a rent of half a mark; another was the pounder,
who held twelve acres, received from each plough one thrave of corn,
and rendered twenty-four hens and five hundred eggs. The mill paid
five marks and a half. The villeins were bound to give their labour
every year, if required, for the building of a house (perhaps a
hunting-lodge) forty feet long and fifteen feet wide; in that case
they were forgiven fourpence for aver-pennies. The whole township
rendered seventeen shillings for cornage, and one cow.[2272] Clevedon
and Whitburn contained twenty-eight villeins and twelve cotmen whose
services were the same as at Boldon; besides these and the pounder,
there were four other tenants; one held two bovates of twenty-four
acres at a rent of sixteenpence, and “went on the bishop’s errands”;
one held sixty acres and a toft at eightpence, and fulfilled the same
duty; the other two held their lands at a money-rent only.[2273] At
Sedgefield there were fifty-one tenants, of whom twenty were villeins
holding and labouring on the same terms as their brethren at Boldon;
twenty more were “farmers,” holding two bovates apiece, paying five
shillings, ploughing and harrowing half an acre, and finding two men
to mow, two to reap, and two to make hay, for two days, and also one
cart for two days to carry corn, and the same to cart hay; they also
did four days’ boon-work in autumn with all their families except the
housewives. The reeve, the smith and the carpenter held land by their
service; the pounder got his thraves of corn and paid his dues in hens
and eggs as on the other manors. Five _bordarii_ held five tofts, paid
five shillings, and did four days’ boon-work. William of Oldacres and
Uhtred of Butterwick held lands, whose extent is not specified, at a
rent of sixteen shillings and half a mark respectively.[2274] At Norton
there were thirty villeins holding and labouring like those of Boldon,
save that for lack of pasture-land they owed no cornage; and twenty
farmers, whose tenure was much the same as that of the farmers of
Sedgefield. Alan of Normanton held one carucate for ten shillings, and
had to find thirty-two men for a day’s work when required, four carts
for one day or two for two days for carrying corn, and the same for
carting hay; besides which his men, if he had any, were to work four
boon-days in autumn with all their families except the housewives, but
Alan himself and his own household were free of this service. Adam,
son of Gilbert of Hardwick, held a large piece of land by a money-rent.
There was a mill, with eight acres and a meadow, and rendering twenty
marks; a pounder, holding on the usual terms; and there were twelve
cotmen, holding tofts and crofts, and paying partly in money, partly in
work.[2275] The palatine bishopric, it is clear, was an old-fashioned
district where innovations of any kind were slow to penetrate. Even
here, however, the newer system of money-payment in commutation of
service was beginning to make its appearance. The tenures on the manor
of Whickham had undergone a sweeping change, apparently not long
before Bishop Hugh’s survey was drawn up. On this manor there were
thirty-five villeins, holding each an oxgang of fifteen acres. Each
of these had been wont to pay sixteenpence, and to work three days a
week throughout the year, three boon-days in autumn with all his family
except his wife, and a fourth boon-day with two men; in their ordinary
work they had to mow the grass, to cut and carry the hay, to reap and
carry the corn; and over and above this, they had to plough and harrow
two acres of _averere_ with each plough; for this, however, they had a
corrody. They had also, in the course of their work, to “make a house”
forty feet long and fifteen feet wide, to make three fisheries in the
Tyne, and to do carting and carrying like the villeins of Boldon;
they gave nine shillings cornage, one cow, and for every oxgang one
hen and ten eggs. “Now, however,” adds the record, “the said manor of
Whickham is at farm”--demesne, villeins, mill, fisheries and all:--it
may possibly, like its neighbour Ryton, have been let at farm to the
tenants themselves; but at any rate, its entire services and dues,
except a small tribute of hens and eggs, were commuted for a rent of
six-and-twenty pounds.[2276]
[2272] _Boldon Buke_ (Greenwell), pp. 3, 4. Cornage was a
“payment made in commutation of a return of cattle” (_ib._
Glossary).
[2273] _Ib._ p. 5.
[2274] _Ib._ p. 11.
[2275] _Boldon Buke_ (Greenwell), pp. 12, 13.
[2276] _Ib._ pp. 33, 34.
On the whole, the glimpses which we get of the condition of the rural
population of England under the Angevin kings seem to indicate that
they were by no means excluded from a share in the progress of the
kingdom at large. Even if their dues had grown heavier, this surely
points to an advance in agricultural prosperity and of the material
ease and comfort which are its natural results. The spread of industry
shewed itself in many ways. In the towns we can trace it in the growing
importance of the handicraftsmen, proved by the jealousy with which
their gilds were regarded by the central government and still more by
the civic authorities. The weavers seem to have been special objects
of civic dislike; in most of the great towns they were treated as a
sort of outcasts by the governing body; and in 1201 the London citizens
bought of John, at the price of twenty silver marks a year and sixty
marks down, a charter authorizing them to turn the weavers out of the
city altogether. The sequel of this bargain is eminently characteristic
of John; but it is equally significant of the growing influence of
the craftsmen. The king took the citizens’ money and gave them the
charter which they desired, but he made it null and void by granting
his protection to the weavers as before, merely exacting from them an
annual payment of twenty marks instead of eighteen.[2277]
[2277] Riley, _Munim. Gildh._, vol. ii. pt. i. introd. pp.
lxi–lxiii.
Hand in hand with the growth of industry went the growth of trade.
Markets and fairs were springing up everywhere, and a keen commercial
rivalry sprang up with them. The little borough of S. Edmund’s set
up a “merchant-gild,” whose members insisted that all who did not
belong to it must pay toll in their market.[2278] The great success of
Abingdon fair in Henry’s early years stirred up the jealousy of both
Wallingford and Oxford, and their remonstrances compelled the king to
order that inquisition should be made, through twenty-four of the old
men of the shire “who were living in his grandfather’s time,” whether
the obnoxious little township had in those days enjoyed the privilege
of a market. The case was tried in full shire-moot at Farnborough; the
twenty-four elders were duly elected, and swore that Abingdon had had
a full market in the time of King Henry the First. The jurors were
however challenged by the opposing party, whereupon Henry ordered “the
men of Wallingford and the whole county of Berkshire” to meet before
his justices at Oxford, and there to choose fresh recognitors. This
time the jury could not agree among themselves. The Wallingford jurors
swore that they remembered nothing sold at Abingdon in the first King
Henry’s reign except bread and ale; the Oxford men admitted more
than this, but not a “full market”--nothing brought by cart or boat
(there was an old-standing quarrel between Oxford and Abingdon about
boat-cargoes and river-tolls); the shiremen acknowledged that there had
been a “full market,” but doubted whether goods were carried thither
by any boats save those belonging to the abbot himself. The justiciar,
Earl Robert of Leicester, who was presiding over the court in person,
transmitted these various opinions to the king without venturing to
decide the case. As it chanced, however, he could--so at least the
Abingdon story ran--add to them an useful reminiscence of his own
childhood: he had himself seen a full market at Abingdon not only in
the days of King Henry I., but as far back as the days of King William,
when he, Earl Robert, was a little boy in the abbey-school. And so the
men of Abingdon won their case.[2279]
[2278] Joc. Brakelond (Rokewode), p. 74.
[2279] _Hist. Mon. Abingdon_ (Stevenson), vol. ii. pp. 227–229.
This happened 1158–1161. Mr. Eyton (_Itin. Hen. II._, pref.
pp. v, vi) denies on chronological grounds the authenticity
of Earl Robert’s supposed witness to the state of affairs in
the Conqueror’s time. He does not adduce his proofs; I can
therefore only leave this part of the matter undecided, and
take the Abingdon story as I find it.
Disputes of this kind, however, were not always so peacefully settled.
Some forty years later--in 1201--the monks of Ely set up, under
the protection of a royal charter, a market at Lakenheath, within
the “liberties” of S. Edmund’s abbey. The chapter of S. Edmund’s,
“together with their friends and neighbours,” sent to Ely an amicable
remonstrance against this proceeding, adding that they would willingly
make good the fifteen marks which the monks of Ely had paid for their
charter, if these latter would consent to forego the use of it. The
remonstrance however produced no effect. The brotherhood of S. Edmund’s
therefore demanded a recognition to declare whether the new market had
been set up to their injury, and to the injury of the market at their
own town. The verdict of the recognitors decided that it was so. The
next step was to inform the king, and ascertain from him the exact
tenour of his charter to Ely; search was made in the royal register,
and it was found that the market had been granted only on condition
that it should not damage the interests of other markets in the
neighbourhood. Hereupon the king, for a promise of forty marks, gave to
S. Edmund’s a charter providing that no market should thenceforth be
set up within the liberties of the abbey save by the abbot’s consent;
and he issued orders to the justiciar, Geoffrey Fitz-Peter, for the
abolition of the market at Lakenheath. The justiciar sent on the order
to the sheriff of Suffolk; and the sheriff, having no jurisdiction
within the liberties of S. Edmund’s, forwarded it to the abbot for
execution. Next market-day the hundred-reeve came to Lakenheath, and
shewing the letters of king and sheriff, supported by the testimony
of the freemen, forbade the market in the king’s name; he was however
met with nothing but contempt and abuse. The abbot, who was in London
at the time, after consulting with some “wise men” there, wrote to his
bailiffs bidding them assemble all the men of S. Edmund’s with their
horses and arms, overthrow the market by force, and take prisoners as
many of the buyers and sellers as they could. In the middle of the
night some six hundred well-armed men set out from S. Edmund’s for
Lakenheath. When they reached it the market was deserted; all the
stall-holders had fled. The prior of Ely was at Lakenheath with his
bailiffs, having come that same night in expectation of the intended
attack; but he “would not come out of his house”; so the bailiffs of S.
Edmund’s, after vainly demanding pledges from him that he would “stand
to right” in the abbey-court, seized the butchers’ trestles and the
planks which formed the stalls, as well as the cart-horses, sheep and
oxen, “yea, and all the beasts of the field,” and carried them away to
Icklingham. The prior’s bailiffs hurried in pursuit, and begged to have
their goods on pledge for fifteen days, which was granted. Within the
fifteen days came a writ summoning the abbot to answer for this affair
at the Exchequer, and to restore the captured animals. “For the bishop
of Ely, who was a man of ready and eloquent speech, had complained in
his own person to the justiciar and the great men of England, saying
that an unheard-of insult had been done to S. Etheldreda in time of
peace; wherefore many were greatly stirred up against the abbot.”[2280]
[2280] Joc. Brakelond (Rokewode), pp. 98, 99.
The developement of foreign commerce, resulting from the wide-spread
relations of the Angevin kings with lands on both sides of the sea
which encompassed their island-realm, woke a rivalry no less keen
between some of the great trading cities, although they might shew it
in less rough and ready fashion than the champions of the mercantile
privileges of S. Edmund’s. One interesting illustration has recently
come to light, in a writ of Henry II. to the bailiffs of Dublin in
favour of the citizens of Chester. Henry, as we know, had granted
to the men of Bristol the right of colonizing Dublin and holding it
of him and his heirs with the same liberties and privileges as were
enjoyed by Bristol itself. Bristol and Chester had for ages been rivals
in the trade with Ireland; Chester now saw itself in imminent danger
of being altogether shut out of that trade, an exclusion which would
have meant little less than ruin to the city. We can hardly doubt
that its citizens appealed to the king for a reservation of their
commercial privileges in Dublin as against the Bristol merchants.
At any rate, Henry in 1175 or 1176 issued a writ to the bailiffs of
Dublin commanding that the burghers of Chester should be free to buy
and sell at Dublin as they had been wont to do, and should have the
same rights, liberties and free customs there as they had had in his
grandfather’s days.[2281] Yet more important than the trade of the
western seaports with Ireland was that of the eastern coast, not only
with the continental dominions of the Angevin house, but with almost
the whole of Europe. Not the least beneficial result of the Angevins’
renewal of the old political ties between England and the Empire was
the increase of trade which it helped to bring from the merchant-cities
of northern Germany and the Low Countries to the port of London.
Nor were the kings themselves blind to the advantage of these
commercial relations. Richard on the eve of his return from captivity
in 1194 granted to the citizens of Cöln a gildhall in London, “with
all their other customs and demands,” for an annual payment of two
shillings.[2282] The hall of the other Teutonic merchants--famous in
later days under the name of the Steel-yard--was probably established
about the same period; and early in the following century we find
an elaborate and interesting code of regulations for the trade of
the Lorrainers, the “men of the Emperor of Germany,” the Danes and
the Norwegians.[2283] The developement of commerce brought with it
a corresponding growth of riches, and of the material comforts and
refinements of life. Domestic architecture began to improve. Henry
Fitz-Aylwine issued at the opening of his mayoralty an “Assize” which
has been described as “the earliest English Building Act,” and which at
any rate shews that the civic authorities were earnestly endeavouring
to secure health and comfort in the houses within their jurisdiction,
and also to guard against the risk of fire which had ruined so many
citizens in times past.[2284] Ecclesiastical architecture progressed
still more rapidly; church-building or rebuilding went on all over the
country on a scale which proves how great was the advance, both in
artistic taste and material wealth, which England had made under the
just rule and peaceful administration of her first Angevin king. At
the opening of John’s reign the citizens of London were contemplating
an important architectural work of another kind: they were planning
to replace the wooden bridge over the Thames with a bridge of stone.
Degenerate representative as he was in more important respects of the
“great builders” of Anjou, John had yet inherited a sufficient share
of their tastes to feel interested in such an undertaking as this; and
in April 1202 we find him writing to the mayor and citizens of London
to recommend them an architect, Isenbert, master of the schools at
Saintes, whose skill in the construction of bridges had been lately
proved at Saintes and at La Rochelle.[2285] The citizens however seem
not to have adopted the king’s suggestion; they found an architect
among themselves, in the person of Peter, chaplain or curate of S. Mary
Colechurch--the little church beneath whose shadow S. Thomas the martyr
was born. It was Peter who “began the stone bridge at London”; and in a
chapel on that bridge his body found its appropriate resting-place when
he died in 1205.[2286]
[2281] The real meaning of this writ is pointed out by Mr. J.
H. Round in the _Academy_, May 29, 1886 (new issue, No. 734, p.
381). The writ itself is there reprinted from the Eighth Report
of the Royal Commission on Historical MSS., where it has been
wrongly interpreted, owing to a misreading of the word which
stands for Dublin.
[2282] Riley, _Munim. Gildh._, vol. ii. pt. i. introd. p. xli,
from _Placita de quo warranto_, p. 468.
[2283] Riley as above, pp. 61, 64, and introd. pp. xxxv–xxxix.
[2284] Fitz-Aylwine’s Assize is printed by Mr. Stapleton from
the _Liber de Antiquis Legibus_, pp. 206–211. It is there dated
1189.
[2285] Rymer, _Fœdera_, vol. i. p. 83.
[2286] Ann. Waverl. a. 1205 (Luard, _Ann. Monast._, vol. ii.
pp. 256, 257).
There can be little doubt that a large part of the means for this
developement of commercial and architectural energy was furnished by
the Jews. The Jewish settlements increased rapidly both in numbers
and in importance under Henry II. In the Pipe Rolls of his first
five years we find, in addition to the London Jews who appeared
in the thirty-first year of his grandfather, and those of Oxford
and Lincoln of whom there are traces in the next reign, Jewries at
Norwich, Cambridge, Thetford and Bungay, as well as at an unnamed
place in Suffolk, which from other evidence seems to have been Bury
S. Edmund’s;[2287] and we have already seen that before Henry’s death
there were important Hebrew colonies at Lynn, Stamford, York, and many
other places. At Winchester the Jews were so numerous and so prosperous
that a writer in Richard’s early years calls it their Jerusalem.[2288]
The great increase in their numbers throughout England during Henry’s
reign is shewn by the fact that in 1177 he found it necessary to grant
them permission for the making of a Jewish burial-ground outside the
walls of every city in England, instead of sending all their dead to be
buried in London, as had been the practice hitherto.[2289] Legally, the
Jews were still simply chattels of the king. Practically, they were
masters of the worldly interests of a large number of his Christian
subjects, and of a large portion of the wealth of his realm. Without
their loans many a great and successful trading venture could never
have been risked, many a splendid church could never have been built,
nay, many a costly undertaking of the king himself might have been
brought to a standstill for lack of funds necessary to its completion.
The abbey-church of S. Edmund was rebuilt with money borrowed in great
part, at exorbitant interest, from Jewish capitalists. Abbot Hugh,
when he died in 1173, left his convent in utter fiscal bondage to two
wealthy Jews, Isaac son of Rabbi Joses, and Benedict of Norwich.[2290]
The sacred vessels and jewels belonging to Lincoln minster were in
the same year redeemed by Geoffrey, then bishop-elect, from Aaron, a
rich Jew of the city who had had them in pledge for seven years or
more.[2291] In 1187 Aaron died; his treasure was seized for the king,
and a large part of it sent over sea. The ship which bore it went
down between Shoreham and Dieppe, and the sum of the lost treasure
was great enough for its loss to be chronicled as a grave misfortune
by the treasurer, Bishop Richard Fitz-Nigel;[2292] while two years
later the affairs of the dead Jew still made a prominent figure in
the royal accounts.[2293] His house, as it stands at the head of the
“Steep Hill” of Lincoln to this day, is one of the best examples of a
mode of domestic architecture to which Christian townsfolk had scarcely
yet begun to aspire, but which was already growing common among those
of his race: a house built entirely of stone, in place of the wooden
or rubble walls and thatched roofs which, even after Fitz-Aylwine’s
Assize, still formed the majority of dwellings in the capital itself.
[2287] Jews at Norwich, Pipe Roll 2 Hen. II. (Hunter), p.
8; Cambridge, _ib._ p. 15; Thetford and Bungay, 5 Hen. II.
(Pipe Roll Soc.), p. 12. In 4 Hen. II. (Hunter), p. 127, the
sheriff of Suffolk renders an account of twenty silver marks
“pro Judæis”; as we find Jews at S. Edmund’s at the opening of
Richard’s reign, it seems probable that they are the persons
referred to here.
[2288] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 62.
[2289] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 182.
[2290] Joc. Brakelond (Rokewode), pp. 2, 3.
[2291] Gir. Cambr. _Vita S. Remig._, c. 24 (Dimock and Freeman,
vol. vii. p. 36).
[2292] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 5.
[2293] Pipe Roll 1 Ric. I. (Hunter), pp. 8, 59, 219, 226, 229,
246.
It is no wonder that these people, with their untold stores of wealth,
their independence of all ordinary jurisdictions, their exemption
from all the burthens of civil life, their voluntary exclusion from
the common brotherhood of Christendom, their strange aspect and their
mysterious language, were objects of universal jealousy, suspicion and
hatred, which they on their part took but little pains to conciliate
or allay. The religious feelings of the whole population of Oxford
were outraged by a Jew who publicly mocked at S. Frideswide amid the
solemnities of her festival-day, well knowing that neither prior nor
bishop, chancellor nor portreeve, dared lift a finger to check or to
punish him.[2294] Darker stories than this, however, were whispered
against his race. They were charged not only with ruining many
Englishmen of all classes by their usury, and with openly insulting
the Christian sacraments and blaspheming the Christians’ Lord, but
with buying Christians for money in order to crucify them.[2295] A
boy, afterwards canonized as S. William, was said to have been thus
martyred at Norwich in 1137;[2296] another, Robert, at S. Edmund’s in
1181;[2297] and a third at Winchester in 1192.[2298] Little as we may
be inclined to believe such tales, we can scarcely wonder that they
found credit at the time, and that the popular hatred of the Jews went
on deepening till it broke out in the massacres of 1190. That outbreak
compelled the king to interfere in behalf of his “chattels”; but the
fines with which he punished it, though they deterred the people from
any further attempts to get rid of the Jews by force, could not alter
the general feeling. At S. Edmund’s Abbot Sampson, immediately after
the massacre, sought and obtained a royal writ authorizing him to turn
all the remaining Jews out of the town at once and for ever;[2299] and
in 1194 Richard, or Hubert Walter in his name, found it needful to make
an elaborate ordinance for the regulation of Jewish loans throughout
the realm and the security of Jewish bonds. Such loans were to be made
only in six or seven appointed places, before two “lawful Christians,”
two “lawful Jews,” two “lawful writers,” and two clerks specially
named in the ordinance; the deed was to be drawn up in the form of an
indenture; one half, sealed with the borrower’s seal, was to be given
to the Jewish lender; the other half was to be deposited in a common
chest having three locks; the two Christians were to keep one key, the
two Jews another, and the two royal clerks the third; and the chest
was to be sealed with three seals, one being affixed by each of the
parties who held the keys. The clerks were to have a roll containing
copies of all such deeds; for every deed threepence were to be paid,
half that sum by the Jew and half by his creditor; the two scribes got
a penny each, and the keeper of the roll the third; and no transactions
whatsoever in connexion with these Hebrew bonds was henceforth to take
place save in accordance with these regulations.[2300]
[2294] _Mirac. S. Fridesw._, in _Acta SS._, vol. lvi. p. 576
(October 19).
[2295] R. Coggeshall (Stevenson), p. 28.
[2296] Eng. Chron. a. 1137.
[2297] Joc. Brakelond (Rokewode), p. 12.
[2298] Ric. Devizes (Stevenson), p. 60.
[2299] Joc. Brakelond (Rokewode), p. 33.
[2300] Rog. Howden (Stubbs), vol. iii. pp. 266, 267. These
“Capitula de Judæis” form the twenty-fourth chapter of _Forma
procedendi in placitis Coronæ Regiæ_ (see above, p. 337),
printed also in Stubbs, _Select Charters_, pp. 259–263.
It is just possible that this growth of anti-Jewish feeling may have
helped in some degree to the growth of a sense of national unity among
the other dwellers in the land. All Christians, to whatever race they
might belong, whatever tongue they might speak, could not but feel
themselves to be one people as against these Oriental intruders. It is
at any rate clear that of the foreign elements which had been infused
into the population of England during the hundred and forty years which
had passed since Duke William landed at Pevensey, the Hebrew element
was the only one which had not amalgamated with the native mass. The
fusion in blood between Normans and English, which we saw making rapid
progress under Henry I., was before the end of his grandson’s reign
so far complete that the practice of “presentment of Englishry”--that
is, the privilege whereby the hundred in which a man was found slain
escaped paying the murder-fine to the treasury, if it could prove that
the victim was not of Norman blood--had to be given up because the two
nationalities had become so intermixed in every class above that of
serfs that it could hardly ever be made out to which of them any man
really belonged.[2301] In this fusion the English element, as it was
far the larger, was also the weightier and the stronger. In the matter
of speech it was fast regaining its supremacy. Foreign priests and
foreign prelates were learning to speak and to preach to the English
people in their own tongue; Norman barons and knights were learning
to talk English with their English-speaking followers and dependents;
some of them were learning to talk it with their own wives.[2302]
If the pure Teutonic speech of our forefathers had suffered some
slight corruption from foreign influences, Walter Map’s legend of
the well at Marlborough whereof whosoever drank spoke bad French for
ever after[2303] may hint that the language of the conquerors was
becoming somewhat Anglicized in the mouths of some at least of their
descendants; and the temper of these adoptive Englishmen was changing
yet more rapidly than their speech. Of the many individual figures
which stand out before us, full of character and life, in the pages of
the twelfth-century historians, the one who in all ages, from his own
day to ours, has been unanimously singled out as the typical Englishman
is the son of Gilbert of Rouen and Rohesia of Caen.
[2301] _Dial. de Scacc._, l. i. c. 10 (Stubbs, _Select
Charters_, pp. 201, 202).
[2302] See the story of Helwyse de Morville and her
husband--parents of the Hugh de Morville who was one of the
murderers of S. Thomas--in Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_,
vol. i.), p. 128.
[2303] W. Map, _De Nug. Cur._, dist. v. c. 6 (Wright, pp. 235,
236).
The whole policy of the Angevin kings tended to mould their insular
subjects into an united English nation. Their equal administration
completed that wiping-out of local distinctions which had been begun
by the wisdom of the Norman kings and helped on by the confusion of
the civil war; their developement of old English methods of judicial
and administrative procedure brought the English people again visibly
and tangibly to the forefront of affairs. Even those very qualities
and tendencies which were most un-English in the Angevins themselves
helped indirectly to a like result. The almost world-wide range of
their political interests gave England once more a place among the
nations, and a place far more important than any which she had ever
before held. For, above all, it was England that they represented in
the eyes of the continental powers; it was as “Kings of the English”
that they stood before the world; and it was as Kings of the English
that their successors were to stand there still, when the Angevin
empire had crumbled into dust. On the eve of that catastrophe the new
England found a voice. The English tongue once more asserted its right
to a place among the literary tongues of Europe. The higher English
poetry, which had slumbered ever since the days of Cadmon, suddenly
woke again to life among the Worcestershire hills. The story of the
origin of Layamon’s _Brut_ can never be told half so well as in the
poet’s own words. “A priest there was in the land, Layamon was he
named; he was Leovenath’s son; may the Lord be gracious to him! He
dwelt at Ernley, at a noble church by Severn’s bank--good it there
seemed to him!--hard by Radstone, where he read books. It came into
his mind, and into his chief thoughts, that he would tell the noble
deeds of Englishmen--what they were called, and whence they came, who
first owned English land.... Layamon began to journey wide over this
land, and got the noble books that he took for models. He took the
English book that Saint Beda made; another he took, in Latin, that
Saint Albin made, and the fair Austin, who brought baptism in hither;
a third book he took, and laid there in the midst, that a French clerk
made, Wace was he called, who well could write, and he gave it to the
noble Eleanor who was the high King Henry’s queen. Layamon laid these
books before him, and turned the leaves; he lovingly beheld them;
may the Lord be merciful to him! Pen he took with fingers and wrote
on a bookskin, and the true words set together, and the three books
compressed into one.”[2304] We must not blame a dweller on the western
border in the early days of King John if, when setting himself to
tell “the noble deeds of Englishmen,” he thought it needful to begin
with the fall of Troy after the pattern of Wace and Wace’s original,
Geoffrey of Monmouth. We can only be thankful to this simple English
priest for leaving to us a purely English poem of more than thirty
thousand lines which is indeed beyond all price, not only as a
specimen of our language at one of its most interesting stages, but as
an abiding witness to the new spirit of patriotism which, ten years and
more before the signing of the Great Charter, was growing up in such
quiet corners of the land as this little parish of “Ernley” (or Areley
Kings) by Severn-side. The subject-matter of Layamon’s book might be
taken chiefly from his French guide, Wace; but its spirit and its
language are both alike thoroughly English. The poet’s “chief thought,”
as he says himself, was to “tell the noble deeds of Englishmen,” to
Englishmen, in their own English tongue. A man who wrote with such an
ambition as this was surely not unworthy of the simple reward which was
all that he asked of his readers: “Now prayeth Layamon, for love of
Almighty God, every good man that shall read this book and learn this
counsel, that he say together these soothfast words for his father’s
soul, and for his mother’s soul, and for his own soul, that it may be
the happier thereby. Amen!”[2305]
[2304] Layamon (Madden), vol. i. pp. 1–3.
[2305] Layamon (Madden), vol. i. pp. 3, 4.
Layamon’s _Brut_ was written at some time between John’s crowning and
his return to England, after the loss of Normandy, in 1206.[2306] It
was a token that, on both sides of the sea, the Angevins’ work was all
but ended, their mission all but fulfilled. The noblest part of that
mission was something of which they themselves can never have been
fully conscious; and yet perhaps through that very unconsciousness they
had fulfilled it the more thoroughly. “The silent growth and elevation
of the English people”--as that people’s own historian has taught
us--“was the real work of their reigns;”[2307] and even from a survey
so imperfect as ours we may see that when John came home in 1206 the
work was practically done.
[2306] On the date, etc., of Layamon see Sir F. Madden’s
preface to his edition of the _Brut_, vol. i.; and Mr. Morley’s
_English Writers_, vol. i. pp. 632–635.
[2307] Green, _Stray Studies_, p. 217.
INDEX
Aaron of Lincoln, ii. 487
Abelard, i. 480
Abingdon, its customs in 1185, ii. 475–477;
its fair, 481, 482.
_See_ Faricius
Achard, lord of Châlus, ii. 382, 383
Aclea, battle of, i. 102
Acre taken by the crusaders, ii. 319
Adaland, archbishop of Tours, i. 131, 132
Adalbert, count of Périgord, i. 145
Adam, Master, i. 482, 492, 493
Adam de Bruce, ii. 145
Adam de Port, ii. 162
Adela, first wife of Geoffrey Greygown, i. 121, 135
Adela, countess of Chalon-sur-Saône, second wife of Geoffrey Greygown,
i. 121, 134, 135, 199
Adela of France, daughter of Louis VII. and Eleanor, i. 445
Adela, daughter of Louis VII. and Constance, born, i. 468;
betrothed to Richard, ii. 62;
offered to John, 314;
marries the count of Ponthieu, 374
Adela of Blois, daughter of Theobald IV., third wife of Louis VII.,
i. 468
Adela, daughter of William the Conqueror, wife of Stephen-Henry of
Blois, i. 272;
her children, 273
Adela of Vendôme, daughter of Fulk Nerra and Elizabeth, i. 172
Adela, _see_ Hermengard
Adelaide or Blanche, mother of Queen Constance, i. 191, 192
Adelard of Bath, i. 94, 95
Adeliza of Louvain, second wife of Henry I., i. 94;
married to William of Aubigny, 298;
receives the Empress Matilda, i. 309
Ademar, count of Angoulême, ii. 316, 381, 398, 399
Ademar, viscount of Limoges, ii. 220, 230, 381, 382
Adrian IV., Pope, i. 476;
his relations with the English Church and the _Curia Theobaldi_,
477;
friendship with John of Salisbury, 485;
bull for conquest of Ireland, 431; ii. 95, 96, 182;
relations with Henry II., i. 497;
dies, 498.
_See_ Nicolas
Ælendis of Amboise, wife of Ingelger, i. 105, 131
Aerschot, _see_ Arnold
Agnes of Burgundy, her marriages, i. 174, 197–199;
kinship with Geoffrey Martel, 136, 175, 199;
divorced, 212
Agnes of Merania, ii. 395, 401
Agnes of Poitou, daughter of William IV., marries Emperor Henry III.,
i. 176
“Aids” from towns, i. 25, 29;
the Sheriff’s, ii. 15;
_pour fille marier_, 125, 126;
for the king’s ransom, 325
Aileach, kings of, _see_ Donell, Murtogh
Alan Barbetorte, count of Nantes and duke of Britanny, i. 115
Alan III., duke of Britanny, helps Herbert Wakedog against Avesgaud
and Fulk, i. 159, note 4{343};
marriage, 205;
death, 206, 211
Alan Fergant, duke of Britanny, his marriages, i. 328, note 4{930}
Alan, count of Nantes, i. 146
Alan of Richmond, i. 318, 319, 321
Albano, _see_ Henry
Alberic, bishop of Ostia, legate, i. 299, 300
Alberic, count of Gâtinais, _see_ Geoffrey
Albinus or Aubin, S., bishop of Angers, i. 98
Alcuin, i. 181
Aldgate, priory of Holy Trinity at, i. 66
Alençon, i. 208, 209;
treaty of, 217;
surrendered to Henry I., 233;
restored to William Talvas, 236;
won by Fulk V., _ib._
_See_ Robert, William
Alexander II., Pope, i. 220
Alexander III., Pope, i. 498;
acknowledged in France and England, 502;
grants the pall to Thomas, ii. 6;
meets Henry and Louis at Chouzy, 13;
holds a council at Tours, 14;
relation to the Becket quarrel, 29, 50–52;
condemns Constitutions of Clarendon, 42;
returns to Rome, 55;
appoints Thomas legate, 67;
sends commissioners to mediate between Henry and Thomas, 69, 70;
authorizes Roger of York to crown young Henry, 71;
forbids him, 72;
interdicts the Angevin dominions and excommunicates the murderers of
S. Thomas, 79;
sends envoys to Henry, 80
Alexander, bishop of Lincoln, i. 83, 94, 303, 304
Alfhun, master of S. Bartholomew’s hospital, i. 67
Alfonso II., king of Aragon, ii. 133;
helps Richard in Aquitaine, 230, 231
Alfonso VIII., king of Castille, marries Eleanor, daughter of
Henry II., ii. 60;
submits his quarrel with Navarre to Henry’s arbitration, 190
Alfonso Jordan, count of Toulouse, i. 455, 456, 458
Alfred of Beverley, ii. 445, 446
Alice of Maurienne betrothed to John Lackland, ii. 132–134;
dies, 184
Almeric of Montfort, i. 232, 236, 237, 238, 241
Almeric, viscount of Thouars, ii. 395, 427, 428
Alnwick, ii. 161
Amboise, i. 105, 106;
house of the Angevin counts at, 151;
Odo’s last attack on, 163.
_See_ Lisoy, Sulpice
Ambrières, i. 209, 211
Anagni, _see_ John
Andegavi, i. 97
Andely, Isle of, ii. 376, 377;
besieged by Philip, 411, 412;
John’s attempt to relieve it, 413–415;
taken, 416
Andely, Nouvel or Petit, ii. 377;
taken by Philip, 416;
fate of its townsfolk, 417, 418
_Andes_, i. 97, 130
Andrew of London, i. 363
Angareth, wife of William de Barri, ii. 453
Angers (Juliomagus), i. 98;
its position as a border-fortress, 101;
seized by northmen, 103;
relieved by Charles the Bald, _ib._, 104;
its aspect in tenth century, 108;
palace of the counts, 109, 132–134, 165;
of the bishops, 133;
fires at, _ib._, 152;
R. Diceto’s description of, 134;
Henry I. of France at, 213;
betrayed to Fulk Rechin, 220;
Urban II. at, 225;
burghers of, revolt against Fulk V., 234;
Fulk Nerra’s buildings at, 165;
abbeys of S. Aubin and S. Sergius at, 98;
our Lady of Charity (Ronceray), 165;
S. Nicolas, _ib._, 172, 214, 225, 228;
Henry II.’s buildings at, ii. 197, 199, 200;
Henry and his sons at, 224;
given up to Arthur, 389;
seized by his friends, 407;
retaken by John, 428;
bishops, _see_ Albinus, Dodo, Rainald, Raino, Ulger
Angevin March, the, i. 101;
its extent, 130
Angevins, _see_ Anjou
Angoulême, disputed succession, ii. 220.
_See_ Ademar, Isabel, Matilda, Vulgrin, William
Anjou, its geographical position and character, i. 97;
political position, 106, 107;
its character as a marchland, 107;
its golden age, 113;
sources of its history, 126, 127;
county of, “bipartite,” 128, 129, 130;
its extent, 97, 130;
dependence on the duchy of France, 130;
condition at Fulk Rechin’s death, 229;
placed under interdict, 242;
revolts of the barons, 266–267, 343;
rebels in (1173), ii. 136;
condition under Henry II., 194–196;
John acknowledged in, 388;
accepts Arthur, 389;
submits to Philip, 425;
counts of, their origin, i. 105;
character, 108;
palace at Angers, 109, 132–134, 165;
burial-place, 117, note 3{263};
claims upon Nantes, 116, 117;
upon Maine, i. 124, 140–142;
the demon-countess, 143;
house at Amboise, 151;
rivalry with Blois, 145, 150, 188, 271, 279;
extinction of the male line, 214;
decline after Martel’s death, 215, 218;
relations with France, 164; ii. 357;
growth of their power, 187, 188;
career in Palestine, 239;
their work for England, 490, 492.
_See_ Elias, Fulk, Geoffrey, Guy, Henry, Hermengard, Ingelger,
Lambert, Matilda, Odo, Robert, Sibyl, William
Annonain, Pont de l’, ii. 200, 201
Anselm, S., archbishop of Canterbury, i. 8, 9;
his struggle with Henry I., 15–18;
consecrates Malchus to Waterford, ii. 89;
dies, i. 63;
proposal to canonize him, ii. 14
Aquitaine, its relations with France, i. 123, 145, 383, 456, 457;
ii. 202;
extent and history, i. 454;
granted to Richard, ii. 62;
rebels in (1173), 136;
country and people, 201, 203–205;
its importance for England, 201;
relations with Henry II., 203, 205;
risings in, 58, 109, 220;
submits, 230;
proposal to give it to John, 233;
restored to Richard, 247.
_See_ Eleanor, Odo, Richard, William
_Aquitania_, i. 99, 454
Aragon, _see_ Alfonso, Ramirez, Petronilla
Arcelles, _see_ Saher
Archambald, brother of Sulpice of Amboise, i. 194
Architecture, English, in twelfth century, i. 55
Aremburg of Maine, betrothed to Geoffrey Martel II., i. 226;
marries Fulk V., 232;
dies, 245
Argentan, i. 373; ii. 79, 80
Aristotle, study of, in the middle ages, ii. 466, 467
Arles, _see_ Bertha, Burgundy, Provence, William
Armagh, synod at, ii. 105.
_See_ Malachi
Arms, Assize of, ii. 177, 178
Arnold, count of Aerschot, i. 362
Arnulf, bishop of Lisieux, i. 500;
persuades Henry II. to acknowledge Pope Alexander, 501;
advises Henry to appeal against Thomas, ii. 65;
rebels, 140
Arques, i. 342; ii. 405, 406, 425
Arthur, King, i. 33;
Henry II.’s correspondence with, ii. 57 note 2{226}, 447;
invention and translation of, 447, 448;
romances of, 448, 449
Arthur, son of Geoffrey and Constance of Britanny, born, ii. 245;
recognized by Richard as his heir, 295;
in custody of Philip, 370;
joins Richard, 374;
acknowledged in Anjou, Touraine and Maine, 389;
does homage to Philip, 390;
quarrels with Philip and goes to John, 394;
flies, 395;
does homage to John, 397;
knighted, 404;
meets the Lusignans at Tours, 405;
besieges Mirebeau, 406;
captured, _ib._;
imprisoned, 407;
death, 408, 429, 430;
its consequences, 409
Arundel, i. 10, 309.
_See_ William
Assize of Arms, ii. 177, 178;
of Clarendon, 122, 123;
of the Forest, 177;
Great, 122;
Henry Fitz-Aylwine’s, 485;
of Measures, 348;
of _Mort d’ancester_, 172;
of Northampton, 172, 173;
later developements, 338–340
Aubigny, _see_ William
Aubrey de Vere, i. 305
Augustinians, _see_ Canons
_Aulerci Cenomanni_, i. 201, 202
Aumale, _see_ William
Austin canons, _see_ Canons
Austria, _see_ Leopold
Autun, _see_ Lambert
Auvergne, its feudal relations, ii. 202, 203;
attacked by Philip, 252;
Richard gives up his claims upon, 361
Auxerre, Thomas Becket studies at, i. 379
Avesgaud, bishop of Le Mans, i. 159 note 4{343}, 204, 205
Avice of Gloucester betrothed to John Lackland, ii. 184;
married, 282;
divorced, 398
Avranches, ii. 81
Axholm, ii. 152, 155
Azay, conference at, ii. 263
Baggamore, i. 291
“Baille-hache,” i. 353, 354
Bailleul, _see_ Bernard, Jocelyn
Baldwin II., king of Jerusalem, i. 246
Baldwin III., king of Jerusalem, ii. 239
Baldwin IV., king of Jerusalem, ii. 239, 247
Baldwin, archbishop of Canterbury, takes the cross, ii. 248;
preaches the crusade in Wales, 249;
opposes John’s marriage, 282;
dies, 296, 297;
his proposed college, 437
Baldwin, count of Flanders, i. 235
Baldwin of Clare, i. 318, 320
Baldwin of Redvers, i. 284
Balliol, _see_ Bernard, Jocelyn
Ballon, ii. 394
Bamborough, i. 288
Bar, i. 167
Barcelona, county of, i. 462.
_See_ Raymond-Berengar
Barnwell priory, ii. 463
Barri, _see_ Gerald, William
Bartholomew, bishop of Exeter, i. 506
Bath, i. 35, 296.
_See_ Adelard
Bayeux, i. 11, 307.
_See_ Ralf
Baynard’s Castle, i. 44
Beauchamp, _see_ Miles
Beaugency, council at, i. 392
Beaulieu abbey (Hants), ii. 400
Beaulieu abbey (Touraine), i. 154, 155, 168
Beaumont, _see_ Hermengard
Beauvais, council at, i. 502
Becket, _see_ Gilbert, Rohesia, Thomas
Bedford, i. 320
Bela III., king of Hungary, marries Margaret of France, ii. 235
Bellême, house of, i. 204.
_See_ Robert
Benedictines contrasted with the Cistercians, i. 73
“Bene-work,” i. 57
Berengaria of Navarre, wife of Richard I., ii. 295, 296
Bermondsey, council at, i. 427
Bernard, S., abbot of Clairvaux, i. 70, 72;
his influence, 359;
relations with Rome, 360, 361;
with S. Malachi, ii. 94;
plans for England, i. 364;
pleads for Gerald of Montreuil, 388;
recommends John of Salisbury to Abp. Theobald, 483;
death, 400
Bernard de Balliol, ii. 145, 161
Berry, its feudal relations, ii. 202;
war in, 245, 251, 252
Bertha of Arles, widow of Odo I. of Blois, marries King Robert,
i. 149;
separated, _ib._
Bertha, daughter of Odo of Blois, wife of Alan of Britanny, i. 205;
of Hugh II. of Maine, 206
Bertha, daughter of Conan III. of Britanny, i. 449
Bertrada of Montfort, marries Fulk Rechin, i. 223, 224;
elopes with King Philip, 224;
suspected of contriving her stepson’s death, 228;
her policy, 232
Bertrand de Born, ii. 204, 205;
stirs up revolt in Aquitaine, 209, 220, 366;
his _sirvente_ for Toulouse, 211, 212;
sets the young king against Richard, 222;
submits, 231;
enters a monastery, 371
Bertrand, count of Toulouse and Tripoli, i. 455
Beverley, i. 30, 37, 38.
_See_ Alfred
Béziers, _see_ Raymond
Bigod, _see_ Hugh
Biota of Maine, i. 217, 218, 254
Bishops, English, their political position, i. 20;
appeal against Thomas, ii. 67.
_See_ Church
Blanche of Castille, daughter of Alfonso and Eleanor, ii. 395, 397
Blanche, _see_ Adelaide
Blanchelande, i. 223, 257
Bloet, _see_ Robert
Blois, counts of, their rivalry with Anjou, i. 145, 150, 188;
their character, 150.
_See_ Adela, Bertha, Henry, Odo, Stephen, Theobald, William
Blondel, ii. 324
Bodmin, gild at, ii. 469
“Bogis,” Peter, ii. 421, 422
Bohun, _see_ Humfrey
Bologna, university of, ii. 460;
S. Thomas at, i. 379
Bonmoulins, conference at, ii. 254, 255
Bonneville, i. 307;
council at, ii. 157
“Boon-work,” i. 57
Bordeaux, _see_ William
Born, _see_ Bertrand
Bosham, _see_ Herbert
Boulogne, _see_ Matilda, Matthew, Mary, William
Bourbon, _see_ Hermengard
Bourges, its feudal relations, ii. 202
Bourgthéroulde, battle of, i. 241
Brabantines, ii. 223
Breakspear, _see_ Nicolas
Breffny, ii. 97
Brenneville, battle of, i. 237
Brian Boroimhe, king of Munster, ii. 85
Brian Fitz-Count, i. 243, 328, 396;
his “book,” 369
Bridgenorth, sieges of, i. 10, 429, 430
Brissarthe, i. 103
Bristol, i. 33, 34, 295, 296;
its slave-trade, 35, ii. 87;
Stephen’s attempt on, i. 296, 297;
ill-doings of its garrison, 297;
Dermot of Leinster at, ii. 98, 99;
Henry II.’s charters to, 118
Britanny, i. 99;
its extent under Herispoë, 102 note 1{236}, 130;
civil wars in, 115;
Geoffrey Martel’s dealings with, 211, 212;
claimed by Eudo of Porhoët and Conan of Richmond, 449;
granted by Henry II. to Conan, 451;
Henry’s designs on, 452, 453;
conquered by Henry, ii. 57, 58;
rebels in (1173), 137;
barons of, appeal to Philip against John, 408.
_See_ Alan, Arthur, Conan, Constance, Eleanor, Geoffrey, Herispoë,
Hoel, Juhel, Nomenoë, Odo, Solomon
Broc, _see_ Ralf
Bruce, _see_ Adam, Robert
Brulon, _see_ Geoffrey
Burchard, count of Vendôme, i. 149, 189
Burgundy, kingdom of, granted to Richard I., ii. 331.
_See_ Hugh, Robert, Rudolf.
Cadoc, ii. 416, 421, 425
Cadwallader, brother of Owen of North Wales, i. 435
Caen, surrendered to Henry I., i. 11;
to Geoffrey Plantagenet, 307;
to Philip, ii. 424;
hospital, i. 471; ii. 198;
palace, ii. 196, 197.
_See_ Robert
_Cæsarodunum_, _see_ Tours
Cahors, i. 464, 466
Calixtus II., Pope, i. 237
Cambridge, ii. 462, 463
Camville, _see_ Gerard
Candé, i. 228
Canons, Austin or Augustinian, their origin, i. 64, 65;
character, 43, 66, 357;
in England, 66–69.
_See_ Aldgate, Barnwell, Carlisle, Chiche, Kirkham, Nostell, Oseney,
Oxford, Smithfield
Canons, White, i. 357
Canon law, its effects in England, ii. 18
Canterbury, canons of Laon visit, i. 30;
plot to kill Henry Fitz-Empress at, 403;
Thomas elected at, ii. 3;
privilege of the archbishop to crown the king, 62;
S. Thomas slain at, 79;
Henry II.’s penance at, 159;
Louis VII. at, 216;
Philip of Flanders at, 235;
Richard at, 328;
John crowned at, 400.
_See_ Anselm, Baldwin, Geoffrey, Hubert, John, Ralf, Richard, Roger,
Theobald, Thomas, Walter, William
Capua, _see_ Peter
_Caputii_, ii. 223, 224
Carcassonne, _see_ Raymond Trencavel
Carham, i. 286, 287, 292.
_See_ Wark
Carlisle, i. 36, 37;
S. Godric at, 76;
council at, 300;
Henry Fitz-Empress knighted at, 377;
meeting of Henry and Malcolm IV. at, 462;
besieged by William the Lion, ii. 153, 154;
meeting of William and Henry at, 237;
earldom of, granted to Henry of Scotland, i. 282;
claimed by Ralf of Chester, 314;
see of, 37, 69
Carrick, ii. 109, 111
Carthusians, ii. 435, 436 note 1{2171}
Carucage of 1194, ii. 328, 329, 342;
the Great, 352–354
Carucate, ii. 352
Cashel, metropolis of Munster, ii. 94;
council at, 115
Castille, _see_ Alfonso, Blanche, Constance, Eleanor
Castle Cary, i. 295, 298
Celestine II., Pope, i. 355, 356
Celestine III., Pope, ii. 303, 304, 312, 351
Celle, _see_ Peter
_Cenomanni_ (_Aulerci_), i. 201, 202
Cenomannia, _see_ Maine
Châlus, ii. 382, 385
Champagne, _see_ Henry, Odo, Stephen, Theobald
Chancellor, the, his office, i. 22, 419.
_See_ Geoffrey, Matthew, Nigel, Ralf, Robert, Roger, Waldric,
William
Charles the Bald, Emperor, i. 99, 102, 103, 105
Charles the Fat, king of West-Frankland and Emperor, i. 104
Charles the Simple, king of West-Frankland, i. 104
Charter of Henry I., i. 8;
Henry II., 427;
Stephen, 279, 284
Chartres, _see_ Blois
Château-Gaillard, ii. 375–380;
siege, 416–423;
John’s buildings at, 413, 421, 422
Châteaudun, i. 156.
_See_ Landry
Châteaulandon, _see_ Gâtinais
Château-du-Loir, i. 390.
_See_ Gervase
Châteauneuf-sur-Sarthe, i. 267
Châteauneuf, _see_ Tours
Châteauroux, ii. 211, 213, 245, 251
Châtillon, conference at, ii. 253
Chaumont-sur-Loire, i. 272 note 1{662}, 471
Chef-Boutonne, battle of, i. 215, 252, 253
Cherbourg, siege of, i. 340
Chester, i. 36;
its slave-trade, _ib._, ii. 87;
meeting of Henry II. and Malcolm IV. at, i. 438;
privileges granted to its burghers at Dublin, ii. 484;
earldom of, its peculiar character, i. 313, 314.
_See_ Hugh, Ralf
Chiche, priory of S. Osyth at, i. 68, 80
Chichester, _see_ Hilary
Chinon won by Fulk Nerra, i. 167;
Geoffrey the Bearded imprisoned at, 221;
bequeathed to Geoffrey Plantagenet II., 394, 444;
councils at, ii. 58, 64;
Henry II.’s buildings at, 197, 200;
treasury at, plundered by Richard, 246;
Henry II. at, 263, 267;
given up to John, 388, 395;
taken by Philip, 426
Chouzy, conference at, ii. 13
Christchurch or Twinham, i. 32
Chrodegang of Metz, rule of, i. 65
Chronicle, English, i. 81, 82
Church, English, under Henry I., i. 63;
the Augustinian revival, 64–69;
the Cistercian revival, 69–74;
new sees, 68, 69;
its national character, 80;
political position of the bishops, 20;
condition during the anarchy, 347–360;
relations with Rome, 378;
position at accession of Henry II., 474;
vacant sees (1161), 503;
Henry’s schemes of reform, ii. 17–20;
question of the “two swords,” _ib._ 22, 23;
quarrel of Henry and Thomas, its effects, 46–50;
course of the revival after Theobald’s death, 432;
condition in Henry II.’s later years, 433–438.
_See_ Clergy
Church, Irish, its early glory, ii. 82, 86;
condition in eleventh and twelfth centuries, 91–93;
settlement at Synod of Kells, 94;
submits to Henry II., 115
Circuits, _see_ Justices
Cirencester, i. 330, 333
Cistercians or White Monks, their origin, i. 69, 70;
in England, 71;
work and influence, 74, 358, 359;
quarrel with John, ii. 396, 399, 400;
fall, 434, 435.
_See_ Cîteaux, Clairvaux, Fountains, Newminster, Pontigny, Rievaux,
Tintern, Waverley
Cîteaux, i. 70
Clairvaux (abbey), i. 70; ii. 70, 94
Clairvaux (castle), ii. 222, 224
Clare, _see_ Baldwin, Gilbert, Isabel, Richard, Roger, Walter
Clarendon, council of, ii. 25–28, 44, 45;
Constitutions of, 26, 27;
condemned by the Pope, 42;
Assize of, 46, 122, 123
Cleobury, i. 429
Clergy, their position under Henry I., i. 63, 64;
regular and secular, 64, 65;
attitude in the civil war, 321;
criminal clerks, ii. 19.
_See_ Church
Clerkenwell, council at, ii. 241
Clontarf, battle of, ii. 85
Cogan, _see_ Miles
Coinage, debasement under Stephen, i. 293;
new, in 1149, 402 note 1{1204};
in 1158, 453
Colechurch, _see_ Peter
Cöln, gildhall of its citizens in London, ii. 485.
_See_ Reginald
Colombières, conference at, ii. 265, 266
Commune of Le Mans, i. 222;
Gloucester, ii. 469;
London, 309, 310, 344;
York, 469
Conan the Crooked, count of Rennes and duke of Britanny, i. 121;
his war with Geoffrey Greygown, 122, 137–139;
with Fulk the Black, 146–148
Conan II., duke of Britanny, i. 211, 212, 220
Conan III., duke of Britanny, i. 449
Conan, earl of Richmond, claims Britanny, i. 449;
duke, 451;
dies, ii. 80
Conquereux, first battle of, i. 122, 138;
second, 147, 148
Connaught invaded by Miles Cogan, ii. 184.
_See_ Roderic, Terence
Conrad III., Emperor, i. 361
Conrad, marquis of Montferrat, ii. 320, 321
Consilt, battle of, i. 436
Constables, _see_ Henry, Humfrey
Constance of Arles, wife of Robert I. of France, i. 155;
her parents, 190, 192;
her policy, 160, 164
Constance of Britanny, daughter of Conan IV., betrothed to Geoffrey,
son of Henry II., ii. 57;
married, 233;
marries Ralf of Chester, 369;
imprisoned, 370;
joins Arthur in Anjou, 389;
does homage to Philip, 390;
marries Guy of Thouars, 395;
dies, 404, note 4{2050}
Constance of Castille, second wife of Louis VII. of France, i. 446,
468
Constance of France, daughter of Louis VI., betrothed to Stephen’s son
Eustace, i. 384;
marries him, 394;
marries Raymond V. of Toulouse, 458
Constance, heiress of Sicily, ii. 319
Constantine, Donation of, ii. 95
Constitutions of Clarendon, ii. 26, 27;
condemned by the Pope, 42
Corbeil, _see_ William
Cork, its origin, ii. 83.
_See_ Dermot
Cornwall, _see_ Reginald, William
Coroners, their origin, ii. 338, 339
Councils, _see_ Argentan, Armagh, Beaugency, Beauvais, Bermondsey,
Bonneville, Carlisle, Cashel, Clarendon, Clerkenwell, Chinon,
Geddington, Gloucester, Inispatrick, Kells, Lisieux, London,
Neufmarché, Northampton, Nottingham, Oxford, Pavia, Pipewell,
Poitiers, Rathbreasil, Tours, Wallingford, Westminster,
Woodstock, Würzburg, York
Council, the Great, its character, i. 20
Courcy, _see_ John, William
Coutances, _see_ Walter
Coventry, _see_ Hugh
Cowton Moor, i. 289
Cricklade, i. 335
Cross, S., _see_ Winchester
Crowmarsh, i. 336, 396
Crown, pleas of the, ii. 337
Crusade, the second, i. 361–363;
in Spain, proposed by Louis VII. and Henry II., 453, 497;
the third, ii. 318–321
_Curia Regis_, _see_ King’s Court
Customs, “paternal,” i. 16;
royal, ii. 22, 26, 27;
of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, i. 37
Cyprus, ii. 317, 321
Danegeld, i. 25;
abolished, ii. 16, 44
David I., king of Scots, i. 95;
invades England, 282, 286, 287, 288;
defeated at Cowton Moor, 289–291;
treaties with Stephen, 282, 300;
joins the Empress in London, 323;
escapes from Winchester, 328;
knights Henry Fitz-Empress, 377;
dies, 399
David, prince of North-Wales, marries Henry II.’s sister Emma, ii. 181
David, bishop of S. David’s, ii. 454
David, brother of William of Scotland, ii. 140, 153;
claims on Huntingdon and Northampton, 154
David or Hugh, count of Maine, i. 124, 140
David’s, S., bishops of, _see_ David, Peter
Defensor of Le Mans, i. 202
Denis, S., _see_ Suger
Denmark, _see_ Ingebiorg
Déols, ii. 211
Dermot Mac-Carthy, king of Cork or South Munster, ii. 114
Dermot Mac-Maelnambo, king of Leinster, ii. 87, 88
Dermot Mac-Murrough, king of Leinster, ii. 97;
seeks aid of Henry II., 98;
returns to Ireland, 100;
successes in Ossory etc., 102;
summons Richard of Striguil, 103;
dies, 106
Dervorgil, wife of Tighernan O’Ruark, ii. 97
Devizes, i. 304, 321, 330
_Dialogus de Scaccario_, i. 26
Diceto, _see_ Ralf
Dinan, _see_ Joceas
Dodo, bishop of Angers, i. 109, 133
Dol, ii. 148
Domfront, i. 6, 208, 209
Donatus, bishop of Dublin, ii. 87
Doncaster, earldom of, granted to Henry of Scotland, i. 282
Donell O’Brien, king of Limerick or North Munster, ii. 102, 103, 109,
111, 114
Donell O’Lochlainn, king of Aileach, ii. 90
Donell Kavanagh, ii. 109, 112
Dorchester, _see_ Remigius
Dover, i. 295, 299;
chief mart of the wool trade, 52;
Geoffrey of York arrested at, ii. 305, 306.
_See_ Simon, William
Drausius, S., ii. 65
Dress, English, in twelfth century, i. 56
Dreux, _see_ Robert
Drogo of Nantes, son of Alan Barbetorte, i. 115, 116
Dublin, its origin, ii. 83;
metropolis of Leinster, 94;
taken by Dermot etc., 105;
attacked by wikings, 106;
blockaded by Roderic O’Conor, 109;
Henry II. at, 114, 115;
colonized by Henry, 118;
privileges of the Chester merchants at, 484.
_See_ Donatus, Godred, Gregory, Laurence, Patrick
Dudley, i. 295, 298
Dulcia of Gévaudan, i. 463
Dunstan, S., lives of, i. 80
Dunster, i. 295
Durham, S. Godric at, i. 77;
cathedral, 80;
treaty made at, 300;
customs of the bishop’s estates in 1183, ii. 478–480.
_See_ Hugh, Ralf, Simeon, William
Eadgyth or Edith, S., i. 33
Eadgyth, _see_ Matilda
Eadmer, i. 80, 88
Eadward the Confessor, king of England, his prophecy, i. 1;
his laws demanded by the citizens of London, 324
Eadwulf, prior of Nostell and confessor to Henry I., i. 68;
bishop of Carlisle, 69
Ealdhelm, S., i. 84, 86, 90;
life by Faricius, 81
Earldoms created by Stephen, i. 293
Edith, _see_ Eadgyth
Edmund’s, S., Henry II. at, i. 430;
massacre of Jews at, ii. 289;
its customs, 473, 474;
merchant-gild, 481;
dispute with Ely, 482, 483
Eleanor of Aquitaine, daughter of William IX., marries Louis VII. of
France, i. 383;
divorced, 392;
marries Henry, 393;
claims on Toulouse, 457, 458;
attempt to divorce her from Henry, ii. 61;
turns against him, 129;
imprisoned, 135;
Richard gives up Aquitaine to, 235;
regent for Richard, 273, 282;
arranges his marriage, 295, 296;
negotiates at Rome, 303;
returns to England, 314;
ravages Anjou, and does homage to Philip, 390;
goes to Spain, 396;
retires to Fontevraud, 405;
besieged in Mirebeau, 406;
dies, 426
Eleanor, daughter of Henry II., marries Alfonso of Castille, ii. 60,
189
Eleanor of Britanny, daughter of Geoffrey and Constance, ii. 244, 325,
371
Elias, count of Maine, i. 224, 225;
war with William Rufus, 225, 226;
Le Mans surrendered to, 227;
relations with Henry I., 11, 227, 233;
marriages, 255;
death, 233
Elias of Anjou, son of Fulk V., i. 343
Elias of Saint-Saëns, i. 235
Elizabeth of Hainaut, first wife of Philip Augustus, ii. 217, 234,
note 7{1115}
Elizabeth of Vendôme, first wife of Fulk Nerra, i. 152
Ely, see of, founded, i. 68;
quarrel with S. Edmund’s, ii. 482, 483.
_See_ Geoffrey, Nigel
Emma, daughter of Geoffrey Plantagenet, ii. 181
Emperors, _see_ Charles, Conrad, Frederic, Henry, Otto
Engelram of Trie, i. 467
England under the Angevins, i. 1–3;
relations with Rome, 15;
with Normandy, 23, 24;
invaded by Robert Curthose, 9;
journey of canons of Laon in, 30–35;
its peace under Henry I., 48;
Flemings settle in, 52;
town life in twelfth century, 54, 55;
rural life, 56–62;
revival under Henry I., 64–95;
religious revival during the anarchy, 356–358;
effects of the second Crusade, 362;
rebels in (1173), ii. 138, 139;
loyal barons in, 144, 145;
rebel castles in the north, 152;
royal strongholds, 153;
condition of rural population under the Angevins, 473–480;
fusion of races, 489;
growth of national feeling, 489.
_See_ Church, Literature, Towns, Trade.
_See also_ Eadward, Eleanor, Henry, John, Jane, Matilda, Richard,
Stephen, William
“English” and “French,” i. 24
“English” and “Normans,” different meanings of, i. 23, 24
English and Normans, fusion of, i. 24, 48, 49; ii. 489, 490
Englishry, presentment of, abolished, ii. 489
Essex, _see_ Geoffrey, Henry, William
Este, _see_ Hugh
Euclid, Adelard of Bath’s version of, ii. 95
Eudo, count of Porhoët, i. 449
Eugene III., Pope, i. 361;
deposes S. William and consecrates Henry Murdac, 366;
suspends Henry of Winchester and threatens Stephen, 368;
makes Abp. Theobald legate, 380;
forbids the crowning of Eustace, 391;
dies, 400
Eustace, son of Stephen, king of England, does homage to Louis VI.
for Normandy, i. 286;
knighted, 377;
goes to York, 380;
his prospects, 382;
goes to France, 383;
betrothed to Constance, 384;
attacks Normandy, 385;
receives homage, 391;
proposal to crown him, _ib._;
marriage, 394;
character, 398;
death, 399
Eustace Fitz-John, i. 72, 288
Eva, daughter of Dermot Mac-Murrough, ii. 104
Evreux ceded to Henry I., i. 11, 62;
betrayed to Almeric of Montfort, 236;
fired by Henry I., _ib._, 237;
granted to Almeric, 238;
taken by Philip Augustus, ii. 389;
ceded to him, 396.
_See_ Simon
Exchequer, court of, i. 21;
organization under Bishop Roger, 25–27;
headquarters, 31;
Black Book of, ii. 125;
the Norman Exchequer, 194, 197
Exeter, i. 32, 284.
_See_ Bartholomew
Eynesford, _see_ William
Falaise besieged by Henry I., i. 11;
attacked by Geoffrey Plantagenet, 307;
submits, 338;
treaties at, ii. 165, 166;
Arthur imprisoned at, 407;
submits to Philip, 424
Faricius, abbot of Abingdon, i. 68 note 1{187}, 81
Farringdon, i. 335
Faye, _see_ Ralf
Ferm of the shire, i. 25;
of towns, 29
Ferrers, _see_ Robert
Ferté-Bernard, La, conference at, ii. 257
Finchale, i. 77, 78
Fitz-Alan, _see_ William
Fitz-Aldhelm, _see_ William
Fitz-Aylwine, _see_ Henry
Fitz-Count, _see_ Brian, Richard
Fitz-David, _see_ Miles
Fitz-Duncan, _see_ William
Fitz-Gerald, _see_ Maurice
Fitz-John, _see_ Eustace, William
Fitz-Osbert, _see_ William
Fitz-Peter, _see_ Geoffrey, Simon
Fitz-Ralf, _see_ William
Fitz-Stephen, _see_ Robert, William
Fitz-Urse, _see_ Reginald
Flambard, _see_ Ralf
Flanders granted to William the Clito, i. 243;
trade with England, 30, 51, 52.
_See_ Baldwin, Matthew, Philip, Theodoric
Flèche, La, i. 222, 223, 256, 257
Flemings, their settlements in England and Wales, i. 52, 53;
in England under Stephen, 285;
plot to kill Henry, 403;
expelled, 427;
land in Suffolk, ii. 155;
at Hartlepool, 162
Fleury, abbey, i. 112
Florence, S., of Saumur, i. 162
Florence of Worcester, i. 82, 88, 89, 90
Foliot, _see_ Gilbert
Folkmoot of London, i. 45
Fontevraud, i. 248;
Henry II. buried at, ii. 270–272;
Richard buried at, ii. 386;
Eleanor at, 385, 405
Forest, assizes of, i. 285; ii. 171, 177, 356
Fornham, battle at, ii. 150
Foss-Dyke, i. 40
Foss-Way, i. 38
Fougères, _see_ Ralf
Fountains abbey, i. 71–73;
burnt, 366
France, duchy of, _see_ French
France, kingdom of, character of its early history, i. 144;
condition under Hugh Capet, 145;
under Louis VI., 230;
relations with Normandy, 24, 111;
with Toulouse, 457, 458;
with Rome, 501, 502;
union with Aquitaine, 383;
its developement, ii. 357–361.
_See_ Adela, Constance, Henry, Hugh, Louis, Margaret, Mary, Odo,
Philip, Robert
Frankland, West, northmen in, i. 100.
_See_ Charles, Lothar, Louis, Odo, Robert, Rudolf
Frederic Barbarossa, Emperor, supports antipope Victor IV., i. 498;
relations with Henry II., 499; ii. 55, 60, 238;
banishes Henry the Lion, 238, 257;
takes the cross, 256;
dies, 318
French, dukes of the, extent of their duchy, i. 103, 105;
underfiefs, 105;
claims upon Maine, 124.
_See_ Hugh, Odo, Robert
“French and English,” i. 24
Fréteval, ii. 73, 366
Fritheswith or Frideswide, S., i. 43.
_See_ Oxford
Fulk the Red, first count of Anjou, i. 106;
his neighbours, 109;
political position, 109, 110;
marriage, 110;
death, 113;
chronology of his life, 128, 129, 132
Fulk II. the Good, count of Anjou, i. 113;
his rule, 113, 115;
canon of S. Martin’s, 114;
letter to Louis IV., _ib._;
marriages, 116;
claims upon Nantes, _ib._;
death, 117;
vision of S. Martin, 118;
prophecy made to, _ib._;
its fulfilment, ii. 187, 373
Fulk III., the Black, count of Anjou, his mother, i. 136;
surnames, 143, note 2{294};
character, 144;
significance of his life, 145, 146, 169;
war with Conan of Rennes, 146, 147;
regains Anjou west of Mayenne, 148;
attacks Blois, 149;
rivalry with Odo II., 150;
castle-building, 151;
seizure of the water-ways, 151–152;
first marriage, 152;
first pilgrimage, 153, 192;
founds Beaulieu abbey, 153–155;
marries Hildegard, 154;
second pilgrimage, 156, 192–195;
his oath, 155;
contrives the death of Hugh of Beauvais, _ib._;
sacks Châteaudun, 156;
alliance with Maine, _ib._;
victory at Pontlevoy, 157, 158;
subdues Hugh of Maine, 159;
imprisons Herbert of Maine, _ib._;
invested with Saintes, _ib._, 173;
fortifies Montboyau, 161;
takes Saumur, 162;
besieges Montbazon, 163;
treaty with Odo, _ib._;
his policy and its success, 164;
makes peace between Constance and her son, _ib._;
joins King Henry’s expedition against Sens, _ib._;
his home, 165;
buildings at Angers, _ib._;
third pilgrimage, 166, 195, 196;
rebellion of his son, 166, 195;
wins Chinon, 167;
fourth pilgrimage, 167, 168;
quarrels with his son, 172, 175;
death, 168;
his tomb, _ib._;
his work, 169, 188
Fulk IV. Rechin, son of Geoffrey of Gâtinais and Hermengard of Anjou,
invested with Saintonge, i. 214;
his character, 219;
intrigues against his brother, _ib._;
wins Saumur and Angers, 220;
captures Geoffrey, _ib._;
does homage for Touraine, 221;
cedes Gâtinais to France, _ib._;
his rule, _ib._;
drives Geoffrey of Mayenne from Le Mans, 222;
besieges La Flèche, _ib._, 223, 257;
receives Robert’s homage for Maine, 223;
his marriages, 224;
excommunicated, _ib._;
absolved, 225;
quarrels with his eldest son, 227, 228;
dies, 229;
his reign and its results, _ib._;
his Angevin history, 127
Fulk V., count of Anjou, i. 229;
character and policy, 231, 232;
marries Aremburg, 232;
quarrel with Henry I. and alliance with France, 233;
homage to Henry, 234;
revolt of the burghers against, _ib._;
joins league against Henry, 235;
wins Alençon, 236;
treaty with Henry, _ib._;
goes to Jerusalem, 238;
quarrel with Henry, 240;
offers Maine to Clito, _ib._;
imprisons the legate’s envoys, 242;
marries Melisenda and becomes king of Jerusalem, 246–248;
dies, 361
Fulk the Gosling, count of Vendôme, i. 214
Gaimar, _see_ Geoffrey
Galloway, ii. 164, 179, 237
Gandrea, wife of Theobald III. of Blois, i. 255, 256
Gascony, Richard’s campaign in, ii. 214;
revolt in, 316.
_See_ Guy-Geoffrey, Odo
Gatian, S., bishop of Tours, i. 179
Gâtinais, county of, i. 129;
ceded to France, 221;
counts, 249, 250
Gaubert of Mantes, ii. 415
Geddington, council at, ii. 249
Gelduin of Saumur, i. 161, 162
Geoffrey I. Greygown, count of Anjou, i. 118;
his character, 119;
joins invasion of Lorraine, 120;
his marriages, 121, 134–136;
relations with Britanny, 121, 122, 137–139;
with Maine, 124, 140–142;
war with Poitou, 123, 137, 139;
wins Loudun, 123, 124, 139;
founds church of our Lady at Loches, 153;
dies at siege of Marson, 125
Geoffrey II. Martel, son of Fulk the Black, born, i. 154;
nursed at Loches, _ib._;
count of Vendôme, 172;
quarrel with Fulk, _ib._, 175;
marries Agnes, 136, 174, 197, 199;
war with Poitou, 173–175;
wins Saintonge, 174;
rebels, 166, 195, 196;
count of Anjou, 169;
his character, 170–172;
invested with Tours, 178;
besieges it, 184;
victory at Montlouis, 186;
treaty with Theobald, 187;
its significance, 188;
advocate of see of Le Mans, 205;
imprisons Bp. Gervase, 206;
master of Maine, _ib._;
excommunicated, _ib._;
revolts, 207;
wins Alençon and Domfront, 208;
challenges William and retires, 209;
war with Aquitaine, 210;
besieges Ambrières, 211;
dealings with Nantes, 211, 212;
marries Grecia, 212;
blockaded in Saumur, 213;
joins invasion of Normandy, _ib._, 214;
loses Vendôme, 214;
dies, _ib._;
break-up of his dominions, 215;
dispute over them, 218;
his heirs, 251–252
Geoffrey III. the Bearded, count of Anjou, i. 214;
victory at Chef-Boutonne, 215, 252, 253;
receives Robert’s homage for Maine, 217;
wrongs Marmoutier, 220;
captured by Fulk, _ib._;
imprisoned at Chinon, 221;
released and dies, 228
Geoffrey Martel II. of Anjou, son of Fulk Rechin, betrothed to
Aremburg of Maine, i. 226;
joins Henry I., 11;
quarrel with Fulk, 227, 228;
slain, 228
Geoffrey V. Plantagenet, son of Fulk V. and Aremburg, knighted by
Henry I., i. 244;
marriage, _ib._, 258–260;
his person and character, 261–265;
quarrels with his wife, 266;
with Henry, 269, 270;
invades Normandy, 281, 306, 307;
revolts against, 266, 267, 306, 343, 384;
summoned to England, 330;
treaty with Theobald, 337;
conquers Normandy, 338–342;
recalls his son, 343;
challenge to Stephen, 369;
cedes Normandy to his son, _ib._, 377;
his siege of Montreuil, 384, 386;
treatment of Gerald, 387;
cedes the Vexin to Louis, 388;
death, 389, 390;
burial, 390;
will, 444
Geoffrey of Anjou, second son of Geoffrey and Matilda, born, i. 373;
seeks to marry Eleanor, 393;
rebels against Henry, 394, 395, 444, 445;
count of Nantes, 449;
dies, _ib._
Geoffrey I., duke of Britanny, i. 137, 148
Geoffrey, fourth son of Henry II. and Eleanor, born, i. 453;
acknowledged heir to Britanny, ii. 58;
duke, 80;
revolts, 135;
knighted, 214;
joins young Henry, 225;
submits, 232;
marries Constance, 233;
dies, 243
Geoffrey, son of Henry II., bishop-elect of Lincoln, ii., 155;
takes Kinardferry etc., _ib._;
chancellor, 245;
secures castles of Anjou, 256;
with Henry at Le Mans, 258, 259, 260;
at La Frênaye, 262;
goes to Alençon, _ib._;
rejoins Henry, 263;
his devotion to Henry, 268;
appointed archbishop of York, 274, 278, 302;
early life, 301, 302;
character, 304;
consecrated, 305;
returns to England, _ib._;
arrested, _ib._;
released, 306;
joins John, 307;
enthroned, 313;
quarrel with Hugh of Durham, _ib._, 316;
buys sheriffdom of Yorkshire, 330;
driven from England, 335;
redeems the Lincoln church-plate, 487
Geoffrey (Alberic), count of Gâtinais, marries Hermengard of Anjou,
i. 214, 249, 250
Geoffrey of Brulon, ii. 259
Geoffrey of Chaumont, i. 272, note 1{662}
Geoffrey Fitz-Peter, justiciar, ii. 355, 356;
earl of Essex, 393
Geoffrey Gaimar, ii. 446
Geoffrey of Lusignan, ii. 59 note 1{235}, 136, 250, 405
Geoffrey of Mandeville, i. 334, 335
Geoffrey de Mandeville, earl of Essex, ii. 124
Geoffrey of Mayenne, i. 211;
holds Le Mans for Walter of Mantes, 218;
submits to William, _ib._;
revolts, 221, 222, 224
Geoffrey of Monmouth, ii. 445, 448
Geoffrey of Rancogne, ii. 214, 250, 367
Geoffrey Ridel, archdeacon of Canterbury, ii. 30, 77;
vice-chancellor, 142;
bishop of Ely, 176;
dies, 277
Geoffrey Talbot, i. 294, 296
Gerald de Barri (“Giraldus Cambrensis”), ii. 452–460
Gerald of Montreuil-Bellay, i. 384, 385, 386, 388
Geraldines, the, ii. 108, 183
Gerard de Camville, ii. 280, 298, 299, 300, 329
Gerard la Pucelle, ii. 449
Gerberga, wife of Fulk the Good, i. 116, note 1{258}
Germany, English trade with, under the Angevins, ii. 484, 485
Gersendis of Maine, i. 221, 254–256
Gervase of Château-du-Loir, bishop of Le Mans, i. 205;
imprisoned by Geoffrey Martel, 206;
released, _ib._;
archbishop of Reims, 207
_Gesta Consulum Andegavensium_, its authorship and character, i. 126,
127
Gévaudan, _see_ Dulcia
Gilbert of Sempringham, S., i. 359, 360
Gilbert Becket, i. 50
Gilbert Foliot, abbot of Gloucester, i. 369, 370, 493;
bishop of Hereford, 371, 495;
his earlier history, 492, 493;
career as abbot, 494, 495;
relations with Abp. Theobald and with Henry II., 495, 496;
with Roger of Pont-l’Evêque, 478, 479;
character, 496, 497;
remarks on Thomas’s election, ii. 3, 6;
translated to London, 13, 14;
relations with Thomas, 13, 31, 49;
at council of Northampton, 35, 36, 37, 39;
his attitude in the Becket quarrel, 47–49;
his share in the bishops’ appeal, 67;
excommunicated, 70;
denies the primate’s jurisdiction, _ib._;
absolved, 72;
dies, 277
Gilbert, bishop of Limerick, ii. 92;
legate in Ireland, _ib._, 93
Gilbert de Clare, earl of Pembroke, i. 377, 395, 396; ii. 99
Gilds, i. 29;
under Henry II. and Richard, ii. 469, 470;
leather-sellers’, i. 30;
merchant, i. 29, 36, 40, 43; ii. 481;
weavers’, i. 30, 52; ii. 481
Gildhall, i. 129;
of German merchants, ii. 485
Gilles, St., _see_ Raymond
Giraldus Cambrensis, _see_ Gerald
Gisors, i. 231, 234, 343;
meeting of Henry I. and Pope Calixtus at, 237, 238;
of Louis VII. and Henry II. at, ii. 148, 165;
claimed by Philip, 232, 236
Glanville, _see_ Hervey, Ralf
Glastonbury, invention of Arthur at, ii. 447, 448
Gleeman, the, i. 90
Gloucester, i. 35, 36;
abbey and city, 493, 494;
council at, ii. 170;
commune at, 469.
_See_ Avice, Gilbert, Miles, Philip, Robert, William
Godfrey de Lucy, bishop of Winchester, ii. 277, 288
Godfrey, abbot of Malmesbury, i. 84, 85
Godred, king of Dublin, ii. 88
Godric, S., i. 74–79
“Goliath, Bishop,” ii. 452
Gouleton, ii. 396, 402
Gournay, ii. 403.
_See_ Hugh
Graçay, ii. 213, 361
Grandmesnil, _see_ Ivo, Petronilla
Grandmont, ii. 58, 226;
order of, 435
Gratian, his work on canon law, i. 378
Grecia of Montreuil, second wife of Geoffrey Martel, i. 212
Gregory, archbishop of Dublin, ii. 94
Gregory, bishop of Tours, i. 181
Gué-St.-Rémy, ii. 244
Guerech, bishop and count of Nantes, i. 121, 122, 146
Guimund, prior of S. Frideswide’s, Oxford, i. 43
“Guirribecs,” i. 306
Guy of Anjou (son of Fulk the Red), bishop of Soissons, i. 112, 113
Guy of Anjou, son of Fulk the Good, i. 119
Guy of Crema, _see_ Paschal
Guy, viscount of Limoges, ii. 407
Guy of Lusignan, ii. 59 note 1{235}, 136;
king of Jerusalem, 247;
Cyprus, 317, 321;
ally of Richard, 318, 320
Guy of Thouars, ii. 395, 424
Guy-Geoffrey, count of Gascony, i. 176, 212.
_See_ William VII. of Aquitaine
Hackington, college at, ii. 437
Hainaut, _see_ Elizabeth
Hameline, earl of Warren, son of Geoffrey Plantagenet, ii. 40, 144
Hamo de Massey, ii. 139
Hans-house, i. 29;
at York, 36
Harding or Stephen, founder of Cîteaux, i. 69, 70
Harptree, i. 295, 298
Hasculf Thorgils’ son, ii. 105, 106
Hautefort, ii. 204, 231
Haye, La, _see_ Richard
Henry I., son of William the Conqueror, his early life, i. 4–6;
character, 6, 7;
election and coronation, 7;
charter, 8;
marriage, 1, 8, 9;
treaty with Robert, 9;
proceedings against traitors, 10;
Norman campaigns, 11;
victory at Tinchebray, 12, 13;
policy, 13–15, 19;
struggle with Anselm, 15–18;
character of his reign, 19;
his work, 19, 20;
love of “foreigners,” 23;
his ministers, _ib._;
called “the Lion of Justice,” 26;
charter to York, 30, 36;
to Norwich, 41;
London, 45, 46;
palace at Woodstock, 44, 94;
court at Oxford, 44;
his “good peace,” 30 note 4{58}, 48, 95;
settles Flemings in Pembroke, 52;
dealings with the Church, 63;
results, 64;
founds see of Ely, 68;
Carlisle, 69;
revival of literature under, 80–95;
relations with Maine, 227;
with France, 230, 231;
wars with France and Anjou, 233, 235;
treaties with Fulk, 234, 236;
victory at Brenneville, 237;
meets Calixtus at Gisors, _ib._, 238;
treaty with Louis, 238;
wreck of his hopes, 239, 240;
quarrel with Fulk, 240;
quells revolt in Normandy, 241;
alliance with Henry V., _ib._;
proclaims Matilda his heiress, 243;
last years, 268–270;
death, 271;
possible successors, 274–275;
state of England after his death, 279;
burial, 282;
his court, 413
Henry II. Fitz-Empress born, i. 268;
Eadward’s prophecy fulfilled in, 1;
Witan swear fealty to, 269;
his early life, 372–374;
tutors, 375, 376;
goes to England, 334;
returns to Anjou, 343;
duke of Normandy, 369, 377;
goes to England, 377;
knighted, _ib._;
returns, 378;
besieges Torigni, 386, 405;
does homage to Louis, 388;
marries Eleanor, 393;
ignores Louis’s jurisdiction, 394;
war with Louis and Geoffrey, 395;
lands in England, 396;
besieges Malmesbury, 397;
colloquy at Wallingford, _ib._;
treaty with Stephen, 400, 401;
receives homage, 402;
plot to kill him, 403;
returns to Gaul, _ib._;
effects of his visit to England, _ib._;
resumes Norman demesnes, 404;
peace with Louis, 405;
comes to England, _ib._;
crowned, _ib._;
his work, 407;
person and character, 408–411, 414–417;
court, 411–413;
first ministers, 417, 418;
relations with Becket, 420, 423–427;
charter, 427;
settlement of the country, _ib._;
of the succession, 429;
subdues William of Aumale, 428;
and Hugh of Mortemer, 429;
holds court at S. Edmund’s, 430;
goes to Anjou, 431;
scheme for conquering Ireland, _ib._, ii. 95;
effects of his first two years’ work in England, i. 431–434;
returns, 434;
demands Northumberland etc., 435;
receives Malcolm’s homage, 438;
wears his crown at Wigford, _ib._, 439;
at Worcester, 439;
his position compared with Cnut’s, 2, 440, 441;
relations with France, 441, 442;
does homage, 443;
subdues Geoffrey, 444, 445;
proposes for Margaret as wife for his son, 446;
seneschal of France, 450;
grants Britanny to Conan and obtains Nantes, 451;
designs on Britanny, 452, 453;
claims Toulouse, 458;
great scutage, 459–461;
his allies, 462, 463;
knights Malcolm, 464;
takes Cahors and threatens Toulouse, _ib._;
withdraws, 465;
treaty, 467;
quarrel with Thomas, 469;
drives Louis from Chaumont, 471;
principle of his reforms, 474;
projects of crusade, 453, 497;
attitude towards the religious revival, 497;
relations with Adrian IV., _ib._;
with Germany, 499, 502;
acknowledges Alexander III. as Pope, 502;
appoints Thomas archbishop, ii. 1;
meets Alexander and Louis, 13;
goes to England, _ib._;
receives homage of Welsh princes at Woodstock, 14;
quarrel with Thomas, 15, 16;
plans of reform in criminal legislature, 17–20;
propounds his grandfather’s customs at Westminster, 22;
meets Thomas at Northampton, 23;
at Oxford, 24;
publishes constitutions of Clarendon, 26;
meets Thomas at Woodstock, 31, 32;
council of Northampton, 32–40;
sends envoys to the Pope, 41;
confiscates the primate’s estates and banishes his friends, 42;
effects of the quarrel, 46–49;
goes to Normandy, 54;
receives envoys from the Emperor, 55, 60;
plans for his children, 57, 60;
conquers Britanny, 57, 58;
correspondence with Arthur, 57 note 2{226}, 447;
meets Raymond, 58;
attempt to divorce him from Eleanor, 61;
does homage at Montmirail, _ib._, 62;
holds council at Chinon, 64;
appeals to Rome, 65;
drives Thomas from Pontigny, 68;
meets him at Montmirail, 69;
meets Louis and Thomas at Montmartre, 71;
at Fréteval, 73;
meets Thomas at Tours and Chaumont, 74;
goes to Rocamadour, _ib._;
rash words at Bures, 78;
absolved, 81;
promises help to Dermot, 99;
forbids the war in Ireland, 108;
summons Richard of Striguil to Wales, 112;
goes to Ireland, 80, 113;
his fleet, 112;
Irish princes submit to, 114;
settlement of Ireland, 117;
of Dublin, 118;
goes to Normandy, 119;
relations with the barons, 120, 121, 126, 128;
legal and administrative reforms, 122–127;
inquest on Norman demesnes, 128;
alliance with Maurienne, 131;
receives homage of Toulouse, 133;
quarrel with young Henry, 134, 135;
revolt against, 141;
visits England, 143;
his adherents, 144–146;
takes Dol, 148;
meets Louis, _ib._;
subdues rebels in Touraine, 151;
regains Saintes, 157;
returns to England, 158;
pilgrimage to Canterbury, 159;
receives news of William’s capture, 160;
takes Huntingdon and subdues Hugh Bigod, 163;
relieves Rouen, 164;
subdues Poitou, 165;
reconciled with his sons, _ib._;
treaty with William the Lion, 166;
treatment of the rebels, 167;
end of the struggle, 166, 168;
his position after it, 169;
administrative work in England, 170–178;
his forest visitations, 171;
receives homage for Scotland, 178;
dealings with Wales, i. 435–437; ii. 179–181, 237, 453, 455;
treaty with Roderic O’Conor, ii. 182;
appoints John king of Ireland, 184;
character of his empire, 185–187;
continental policy, 188–191;
arbitrates between Castille and Navarre, 190;
administration in Normandy, 192–194;
buildings, 196, 197;
religious foundations, 197 and note 4{948};
hospitals, 198, 199;
_Levée_, 200;
bridges, _ib._;
relations with Aquitaine, 203, 205;
quarrel with Louis, 212;
treaty, 213;
takes Châteauroux, _ib._;
buys La Marche, 214;
house of Blois seek his help, 217;
makes peace in France, _ib._, 219;
tries to make peace among his sons, 224;
summons a conference at Mirebeau, 225;
besieges Limoges, _ib._;
arrests rebel leaders of 1173, 226;
forgives young Henry, 227;
Aquitaine submits to, 230;
interview with Bertrand de Born, 231;
homage to Philip, 232;
proposes to transfer Aquitaine to John, 233, 242;
makes John governor of Ireland, 234;
mediates between France and Flanders, 235;
receives submission of Galloway, 237;
receives the patriarch Heraclius, 240;
meets Philip, 244;
marches into Berry, 245;
truce, 246;
reinstates Richard in Aquitaine, 247;
meets Philip, 248;
takes the cross, 249;
musters his forces in Normandy, 252;
meets Philip, 253;
conference at Bonmoulins, 254;
goes into Aquitaine, 256;
meets Richard, _ib._;
goes to Le Mans, 257;
conference at La Ferté, _ib._;
flies, 259–262;
returns to Anjou, 262;
goes to Chinon and Azay, 263;
submits to Philip at Colombières, 265, 266;
learns John’s treason, 267;
last days, 268;
death, 269;
burial, 270, 272;
points out Arthur’s tomb, 447;
grants trading privileges to Chester, 484;
grants burial-grounds to the Jews, 486
Henry, second son of Henry II. and Eleanor, born, i. 429, 445;
betrothal, 446, 448;
does homage for Normandy, 468;
marriage, 470;
intrusted to Thomas for education, 471, 472;
recognised heir to the crown, 472, 473;
receives homage of Malcolm IV., ii. 15;
withdrawn from Thomas, 23;
homage at Montmirail, 62;
receives Geoffrey’s homage for Britanny, _ib._;
officiates as seneschal and does homage to Philip, _ib._;
crowned, 72;
crowned again, 81;
rebels, 129, 130;
flies to France, 134;
threatens to invade England, 158, 162;
reconciled, 165;
receives homage of William the Lion, 178;
joins Richard in Aquitaine, 209, 210;
besieges Châteauroux, 211;
at crowning of Philip Augustus, 216, 218, 219;
character, 221;
quarrel with Richard, 222;
enters Aquitaine, 223;
confesses his league with the Poitevins, 224;
holds Limoges against his father, 225;
driven thence, 226;
plunders Grandmont, _ib._;
and Rocamadour, 227;
death, _ib._, 228;
burial, 230, 232
Henry III., Emperor, i. 176
Henry V., Emperor, i. 241, 242
Henry VI., Emperor, his claims on Sicily, ii. 319;
demands for Richard’s ransom, 324, 325;
negotiates with Philip and John, 327;
grants Burgundian kingdom to Richard, 331;
conquers Sicily, 371, 372;
stirs up Richard against France, 372;
dies, _ib._
Henry I., king of France, joins Odo II. against Fulk Nerra, i. 163;
tries to drive Odo from Sens, 164;
revolt against, 177, 178;
grants Tours to Geoffrey Martel, 178;
relations with Normandy and Anjou, 207, 210;
visits Angers, 213;
invades Normandy, _ib._;
defeated at Varaville, _ib._, 214;
dies, 214
Henry of Blois, bishop of Winchester, his early life, i. 347;
supports Stephen, 277, 279;
legate, 305;
summons Stephen before a council at Winchester, 305;
advice at siege of Arundel, 309;
escorts Matilda to Bristol, 310;
receives her at Winchester, 321;
holds council there, 322;
again declares for Stephen, 324, 325;
his fortress of Wolvesey, 325;
besieged, 326;
fires the city, _ib._;
holds council at Westminster and again proclaims Stephen, 329, 330;
his Church policy, 348;
character, 349;
position as legate, _ib._, 350;
elected to Canterbury, 350;
rivalry with Theobald, 351;
loses the legation, 356;
goes to Rome, _ib._;
founds S. Cross, 357;
suspended, 368;
appeals, 381;
absolved, _ib._;
consecrates S. Thomas, ii. 5;
at council of Northampton, 35, 36, 37, 41;
dies, 80
Henry the Liberal, count of Champagne, joins invasion of Normandy,
i. 394;
betrothed to Mary of France, 445
Henry II., count of Champagne, king of Jerusalem, ii. 321
Henry the Lion, duke of Saxony, betrothed to Matilda, daughter of
Henry II., ii. 55;
married, 59, 60;
exiled 238, 257;
regains his lands, 319
Henry, son of David king of Scots, made earl of Carlisle and
Huntingdon, i. 282;
Northumberland promised to, 286;
at battle of the Standard, 290, 291;
earl of Northumberland, 300;
at siege of Ludlow, 301, 302;
dies, 399
Henry of Albano, legate, ii. 256, 257
Henry of Essex, constable, i. 434;
drops standard at Consilt, 436, 437;
present in war of Toulouse, 466;
defeated in ordeal of battle, ii. 61
Henry Fitz-Aylwine, mayor of London, ii. 472;
his assize, 485
Henry of Huntingdon, i. 82, 83, 94
Henry Murdac, abbot of Fountains, i. 365;
opposes S. William, _ib._;
archbishop of York, 366;
his troubles in Yorkshire, 367, 380;
reconciled to the king and enthroned, 381;
goes to Rome, _ib._;
opposes election of Hugh of Puiset to Durham, 399, 400;
death, 400
Henry of Pisa, cardinal, ii. 2
Heraclius, patriarch of Jerusalem, ii. 240
Herbert I. Wake-dog, count of Maine, saves Fulk at Pontlevoy, i. 157,
158;
his surname, 159;
imprisoned by Fulk, _ib._;
quarrels with Bp. Avesgaud, _ib._ note 4{343}, 204;
death, 204;
daughters, 254, 255
Herbert II., count of Maine, i. 216
Herbert Bacco usurps the county of Maine, i. 204;
quarrels with Bishop Gervase, 205;
expelled, _ib._
Herbert Lozinga, bishop of Thetford, removes his see to Norwich,
i. 41
Herbert, bishop of Salisbury, withstands Hubert Walter, ii. 350
Herbert of Bosham, ii. 9, 10, 38, 40, 75;
verdict on the Becket quarrel, 47
Hereford, i. 36;
castle seized by Geoffrey Talbot, 294;
yields to Stephen, 295.
_See_ Gilbert, Miles, Robert, Roger
Herispoë, king of Britanny, i. 130, 203
Hermengard of Anjou, daughter of Geoffrey Greygown and wife of Conan
of Rennes, i. 121, 135
Hermengard (Adela) of Anjou, daughter of Fulk Nerra, wife of Geoffrey
of Gâtinais, i. 214, 249
Hermengard of Anjou, daughter of Fulk Rechin, marries Alan Fergant,
duke of Britanny, i. 328 note 4{930}
Hermengard of Beaumont, wife of William the Lion, ii. 237
Hermengard of Bourbon, second wife of Fulk Rechin, i. 224
Hervey of Glanville, i. 362
Hervey of Lions, i. 321
Hervey of Mountmorris, ii. 101, 112
Hicmar, legate, i. 364
_Higra_, the, i. 34
Hilary, bishop of Chichester, ii. 24, 39
Hildegard, wife of Fulk III. of Anjou, i. 154, 165, 168
_Historia Comitum Andegavensium_, its authorship and character,
i. 126, 127
History, English, under Henry I., i. 81–83, 87–91;
decay during the anarchy, ii. 438;
new school of, under Henry II., 439–445;
romantic school, 445, 449
Hoel, duke of Britanny, i. 222
Hoel I., count of Nantes, i. 117, 121
Hoel II., count of Nantes, i. 212
Hoel of Rennes, count of Nantes, i. 449
Holy Land, _see_ Jerusalem
Hommet, _see_ Richard
Hospitaliers, i. 357
Hospitals founded in Stephen’s reign, i. 357;
Henry II., ii. 198, 199
Houses, English, in twelfth century, i. 54, 55
Howden, _see_ Roger
Hrolf the Ganger, i. 111, 124, 203
Hubert Walter, dean of York, ii. 278;
bishop of Salisbury, _ib._, 333;
elected to Canterbury, 326;
justiciar, _ib._;
suppresses revolt, 327;
early life, 332, 333;
rivals, 334–336;
legate, 336;
his policy, _ib._;
administration, 337–341, 348, 352–354;
fires Bow church and hangs William Fitz-Osbert, 347;
defeated in council at Oxford, 349, 350;
expedition to Wales, 351;
resigns the justiciarship, _ib._, 354, 355;
negotiates with Philip, 374;
regent for John, 390, 391;
crowns him, 392;
chancellor, _ib._;
persuades John to dismiss the host, 427;
dies, 428;
his proposed college, 437
Hubert de Burgh, ii. 400, 407, 408, 426
Hugh, S., bishop of Lincoln, excommunicates the De Clères, ii. 306;
withstands Hubert Walter, 349;
buries Richard, 386;
dies, 399
Hugh of Nonant, bishop of Chester or Coventry, ii. 280, 293, 306, 310,
329;
his scheme of “new foundation,” 436
Hugh of Puiset, treasurer of York, excommunicated, i. 367;
absolved, 382;
bishop of Durham, 399, 400;
rebels, ii. 140, 141;
makes a truce with the Scots, 151;
fortifies Northallerton, 152;
calls in the Flemings, 162;
submits, 163;
takes the cross, 248;
justiciar, 279;
earl of Northumberland, 280;
character and antecedents, 283–285;
quarrels with the chancellor, 288, 291, 292;
relations with York, 303, 304;
quarrel with Geoffrey, 313, 316;
mission to France, 316;
besieges Tickhill, 323, 327, 328;
resigns Northumberland, 330;
tries to regain it, 335;
dies, 336;
his _Boldon Buke_, 478–480
Hugh, duke of Burgundy, i. 103, 104
Hugh the Great, duke of the French, i. 112, 123, 124, 204
Hugh Capet, duke of the French, i. 120, 124, 141, 142;
king, 125
Hugh I. count of Maine, i. 124;
subdued by Fulk the Black, 159;
dies, 156
Hugh II. count of Maine, set aside by Herbert Bacco, i. 204;
restored, 205;
marriage and death, 206
Hugh of Este, count of Maine, i. 221, 224
Hugh the Poor, earl of Bedford, i. 320
Hugh Bigod, i. 278;
revolts against Stephen, 284;
earl of Norfolk, 430;
revolts against Henry, ii. 139;
takes Norwich, 155;
submits, 163;
his punishment, 167
Hugh, earl of Chester, rebels against Henry II., ii. 138;
taken prisoner, 148;
restored, 167
Hugh Bardulf, ii. 283, 330, 335
Hugh of Beauvais, seneschal of France, i. 155
Hugh of Gournay, ii. 146, 403
Hugh de Lacy, ii. 113, 116;
governor in Ireland, 117;
with Henry in Normandy, 145, 147;
viceroy again, 185;
slain, 242, 243
Hugh IX., the Brown, of Lusignan, ii. 398
Hugh X. of Lusignan, ii. 398, 405
Hugh of Ste.-Maure, ii. 129, 136
Hugh of Mortemer, i. 429, 430
Hugh de Morville, ii. 78
Hugh of Sillé, ii. 137
Huitdeniers, _see_ Osbern
Humbert, count of Maurienne, ii. 132, 133, 134
Humfrey de Bohun, constable, ii. 113, 145, 149
Hungary, _see_ Bela
Huntingdon, siege of, ii. 154, 156;
surrenders, 163;
earldom of, i. 282, ii. 154;
weavers at, i. 30, 52.
_See_ Henry, Simon
Hyde abbey, i. 31
Ilchester, _see_ Richard
Ingebiorg of Denmark, second wife of Philip Augustus, ii. 395
Ingelger, son of Tortulf, i. 105, 114, 128–131, 182
Ingelger, son of Fulk the Red, i. 112
Inispatrick, synod at, ii. 94
Innocent II., Pope, i. 299, 351, 355; ii. 93
Innocent III., Pope, ii. 351
Inquest, _see_ Jury
Investitures, i. 15–18
Ireland, English trade with, i. 32, 35, ii. 87;
northmen in, ii. 82–86;
civil wars in, 89–91;
Henry II.’s proposal to conquer, 95, 431;
plans of Eugene III. and S. Bernard for, 95;
bull for its conquest, i. 431, 486, ii. 96;
Henry II. in, ii. 113–118;
condition in his later years, 181–185;
John made governor of, 234;
John in, 242;
Gerald’s treatises on, 457, 458.
_See_ Brian, Dermot, Donell, Malachi, Murtogh, Niall, Roderic,
Terence.
_See also_ Church
Isaac, king of Cyprus, ii. 317, 319
Isabel of Angoulême, ii. 398;
married to John, 399
Isabel de Clare, wife of William the Marshal, ii. 274
Isabel de Warren, ii. 29
Issoudun, ii. 361.
_See_ Ralf
Ivo of Grandmesnil, i. 10
Jane, third daughter of Henry II., betrothed to William II. of Sicily,
ii. 60;
marries him, 189, 190;
marries Raymond VI. of Toulouse, 371;
dies, 397
Jane of Montferrat, wife of William the Clito, i. 243
Jerusalem, kingdom of, condition under the Angevin kings, ii. 239;
taken by Saladin, 247.
_See_ Baldwin, Fulk, Guy, Henry, Melisenda, Sibyl
Jews in England, i. 27, 46, 53;
under Henry II., ii. 486;
burial-grounds granted to, _ib._;
massacres of, 289, 290;
relations with the Christians, 487, 488;
ordinance for their bonds, 488, 489
Joceas of Dinan, i. 301
Jocelyn, bishop of Salisbury, ii. 37, 67, 76
Jocelyn de Balliol, ii. 66
John “Lackland,” son of Henry II. and Eleanor, born, ii. 130;
betrothed to Alice of Maurienne, 132–134;
to Avice of Gloucester, 184;
appointed king of Ireland, _ib._;
proposal to give him Aquitaine, 233;
knighted and sent to Ireland, 234;
his misconduct in Ireland, 242;
recalled, _ib._;
proposal to crown him, _ib._, 244;
his treason discovered, 267;
reconciled to Richard, 274;
treats with Rees, 280;
his lands in England, 282;
marries Avice, _ib._;
his power in England, 293;
quarrels with the chancellor, 297–301;
calls up the barons against him, 307;
enters London, 309;
appointed regent, 310;
alliance with Philip, 314, 323;
its terms, 363;
acknowledged heir by the English barons, 314;
negotiates with the chancellor, 315;
struggle with the justiciars, 323;
truce, 324;
charged with treason, 329;
reconciled to Richard, 334;
helps him against Philip, 369;
acknowledged in Anjou, 388;
invested as duke of Normandy, _ib._, 389;
burns Le Mans, 390;
goes to England, 391;
crowned, 391–393;
administrative arrangements, 393;
quarrel with Philip, 394;
treaty, 395, 397;
visits England, 396;
receives Arthur’s homage, 397;
Raymond’s, _ib._;
does homage to Philip, _ib._;
divorces Avice, 398;
marries Isabel, 398, 399;
crowned with her, 399;
meets the Scot king at Lincoln, _ib._;
founds Beaulieu abbey, 400;
crowned at Canterbury, _ib._;
summons the barons to Portsmouth, _ib._;
goes to Paris, 401;
seizes Driencourt, _ib._;
charges the Poitevin barons with treason, _ib._, 402;
cited to the French king’s court, 402;
condemned to forfeiture, 403;
sends troops into Britanny, 404;
relieves Mirebeau and captures Arthur, 406;
destroys Tours, 407;
quarrels with Otto, _ib._;
cited by Philip for murder, 408;
condemned, _ib._;
his apathy, 410;
plan for relief of Les Andelys, 413, 414;
letter to garrison of Château-Gaillard, 419;
goes to England, _ib._, 420;
sends ambassadors to Philip, 424;
summons the host and dismisses it, 427;
sails to La Rochelle, 428;
takes Angers, _ib._;
flies back to England, _ib._;
comment on Hubert Walter’s death, 428, 429;
charter to London, 471, 472
John of Anagni, legate, ii. 257, 258
John of Canterbury, i, 354;
treasurer of York, 477; ii. 19;
bishop of Poitiers, ii. 30, 209
John de Courcy, ii. 184, 242
John of La Flèche, i. 222
John of Marmoutier, i. 126, 127
John the Marshal, ii. 32, 33, 260
John Oldman, ii. 157
John of Oxford excommunicated, ii. 66;
negotiations at Rome, 68;
escorts Thomas to England, 75, 77;
bishop of Norwich, 176
John Paparo, cardinal, legate to Ireland, i. 380; ii. 94
John of Salisbury, his studies and early life, i. 480–483;
enters Abp. Theobald’s household, 483;
becomes his secretary, 484;
character, 484, 485;
relations with Adrian IV., 485, 486;
with Theobald, 486, 504;
_Polycraticus_, 486–191;
_Metalogicus_, 504;
exiled, ii. 30;
brings bull “Laudabiliter,” 96
John Scotus, i. 86, 87
John, count of Vendôme, ii. 137, 151
John the Wode, ii. 106
John, S., knights of, _see_ Hospitaliers
Jouin-de-Marne, S., battle of, i. 174
Judges, _see_ Justices
Judicaël, bishop and count of Nantes, i. 148
Juhel Berenger, count of Rennes, i. 116
Julian, S., of Le Mans, i. 202
_Juliomagus_, _see_ Angers
Jury, the grand, ii. 338
Jury-inquest, ii. 122, 123, 353, 354
Justices itinerant under Henry I., i. 26;
under Henry II., 433, 434; ii. 124, 125, 173–177;
commission of 1194, 337;
circuit of 1198, 356
Justiciar, the, his office, i. 21.
_See_ Hubert, Hugh, Ralf, Richard, Robert, Roger, Walter, William
Kavanagh, _see_ Donell
Kells, synod at, ii. 94
Ketel of S. Edmund’s, ii. 472
Kinardferry, ii. 152, 155
King’s Court, the, i. 20, 21;
its judicial work, 25;
Henry II.’s changes in, ii. 174, 175
Kinsellagh, ii. 100
Kirkham priory, i. 67
Lacy, _see_ Hugh, Roger
L’Aigle, _see_ Richer
Lakenheath, dispute about market at, ii. 482, 483
Lambert, count of the Angevin march, i. 101, 130
Lambert, count of Autun, i. 121, 134, 135
Lambeth, college at, ii. 437
Landry of Châteaudun, i. 156, 193, 194
Lanfranc, archbishop of Canterbury, consecrates Patrick to Dublin,
ii. 89
Langley, _see_ Nicolas
Laon, canons of, their journey in England, i. 30–35
Laurence, archbishop of Dublin, ii. 105, 108, 110
Law, canon, introduced into England, i. 378;
Roman civil, 379;
study of, in the schools, ii. 466
Layamon, ii. 491, 492
Leather-sellers’ gild at Oxford, i. 30
Legates in England, i. 350.
_See_ Alberic, Gilbert, Henry, Hicmar, John, Malachi, Peter,
Theobald, Thomas, William
Leia, _see_ Peter
Leicester, siege of, ii. 146, 147.
_See_ Robert, Petronilla
Leinster, _see_ Dermot
Leopold, duke of Austria, ii. 319, 371
Lespec, _see_ Walter
_Levée_, the, on the Loire, ii. 200
_Liber Niger Scaccarii_, ii. 125
_Liber Niger_, _see_ Peterborough
Lichfield, i. 40
Lidford, gild at, ii. 469
Lidorius, S., bishop of Tours, i. 179
Limerick, ii. 83.
_See_ Donell, Gilbert
Limoges besieged by Henry II., ii. 225;
plundered by the young king, 226;
surrenders, 230.
_See_ Ademar, Guy
Lincoln, i. 38–40;
weavers at, 30, 52;
merchant gild, 40;
castle seized by Ralf of Chester, 315;
besieged by Stephen, _ib._;
battle of, 316–320, 344–346;
sacked by Earl Robert, 320;
castle again seized by Ralf, 334;
given up to Stephen, 336;
Stephen at, 337;
Henry II. at, 438;
castle besieged by William of Longchamp, ii. 299;
John at, 399;
minster-library, 464, 465;
Richard’s charter to, 470.
_See_ Aaron, Alexander, Geoffrey, Hugh, Remigius, Robert, William
Lions, _see_ Hervey
Lisbon won by English crusaders, i. 363
Lisieux, council at, i. 392.
_See_ Arnulf
Lisoy of Bazogers, commandant of Amboise and Loches, i. 157, 184, 185;
advice to Geoffrey Martel, 185;
captures Theobald, 186
Literature, revival of, under Henry I., i. 80–95;
under the Angevins, ii. 439–460, 491–492
Loches, i. 110, 153;
treaty of, 187;
pledged to Philip, ii. 364;
taken by Richard, 366;
taken by Philip, 426.
_See_ Lisoy, Thomas
Lodden, conferences at the, ii. 307, 308
Lombard, _see_ Peter
London, its growing importance, i. 31;
walls and castles, 44;
cathedral, folkmoot, portreeve, sheriffs, 45;
fires, _ib._, 55;
weavers, 30, 52, ii. 481;
constitution under William I., i. 45;
under Henry I., _ib._, 46;
Jews in, 46;
suburbs, _ib._, 47;
schools, 47;
character of its citizens, 47, 48;
Normans in, 48, 49;
trade, 49;
claim of its citizens to elect the king, 277;
loyal to Stephen, 313;
submits to the Empress, 323;
expels her, 324;
citizens at siege of Winchester, 326;
hospitals in, 357;
councils at, 381, 390, 429; ii. 314;
tumults in (1173), ii. 156–157;
meeting of barons at, 309, 310, 311;
the commune, 309, 310, 344;
rising under William Fitz-Osbert, 345–347;
gilds in, 469;
constitution under Henry II., Richard and John, 471, 472;
foreign commerce, 485;
gildhall of German merchants, _ib._;
stone bridge, _ib._, 486.
_See_ Andrew, Gilbert, Henry, Richard, Serlo, Thomas, Westminster
Longchamp, _see_ William
Lorraine, i. 120
Lothar, king of West-Frankland, i. 119, 120, 122
Lothar, _see_ Innocent III.
Lotharingia, i. 120
Loudun, i. 123, 124, 139, 394, 444
Louis the Gentle, Emperor, partition of his realms, i. 98, 99
Louis From-beyond-sea, King of West Frankland, i. 112, 113;
Fulk’s letter to, 114;
dies, 119
Louis the Lazy (_Fainéant_), King of West Frankland, i. 123;
marriage, 191;
death, 125
Louis VI., King of France, his policy, i. 230;
supports William Clito, 235;
defeated at Brenneville, 237;
treaty with Henry, 238;
marches against the Emperor, 241;
grants Flanders to Clito, 243
Louis VII., King of France, his quarrel with Blois and alliance with
Anjou, i. 342;
helps Geoffrey to conquer Normandy, _ib._;
grants him its investiture, 343;
takes the cross, 361;
marries Eleanor, 383;
strife with Blois, 384;
attacks Normandy, 385;
dealings with Geoffrey and Eustace, 386, 387;
grants Normandy etc. to Henry, 388, 389;
divorces Eleanor, 392;
cites Henry to his court, 393;
war in Normandy, 395;
receives Henry’s homage, 443;
marries Constance, 446;
makes Henry seneschal, 450;
proposed crusade in Spain, 453, 497;
claims on Toulouse, 457;
throws himself into Toulouse, 464;
attacks Normandy, 466;
treaty, 467;
marries Adela, 468;
alliance with Blois, 469, 471;
driven from Chaumont, 471;
acknowledges Alexander III. as Pope, 502;
meets Alexander and Henry at Chouzy, ii. 13;
threatens war in Auvergne, 31;
welcomes Thomas, 42;
his view of the Becket quarrel, 53, 54;
receives homage of the two Henrys and grants Aquitaine to Richard,
62;
meets Henry at Montmartre, 71;
Fréteval, 73;
supports young Henry’s revolt, 135, 136;
attacks Normandy, 143;
burns Verneuil, 147;
meets Henry II. at Gisors, 148;
besieges Rouen, 164;
truce, 165;
renewed quarrel, 212;
treaty, 213;
pilgrimage to Canterbury, 216;
dies, 219
Louis, son of Philip Augustus, ii. 395, 397
Lucius II., Pope, i. 356, 360
Lucy, _see_ Richard
Ludlow, i. 301
Lupicar, ii. 413
Lusignan, _see_ Geoffrey, Guy, Hugh
Mabel of Glamorgan, wife of Robert, earl of Gloucester, i. 294, 328
MacCarthy, _see_ Dermot
MacMurrough, _see_ Dermot, Eva, Murtogh
Madoc Ap-Meredith, prince of Powys, i. 436, 437
Maidulf, founder of Malmesbury, i. 83
Maine (Cenomannia), duchy of, i. 203;
county, 106, 107;
its defiance of the house of France, 109;
claims of Normandy and France upon, 124, 203, 204;
granted to Geoffrey Greygown, 124, 140–142;
subject to Geoffrey Martel, 206;
relations with Normandy and Anjou, 216, 217, 222, 223;
conquered by William, 218;
revolts, 221, 222;
revolts against Robert, 223, 224;
condition under Elias, 224, 225;
won back by William Rufus, 3, 226;
Henry I. overlord of, 227, 233, 234;
united with Anjou, 233;
settled on William and Matilda, 236, 238;
on Sibyl and Clito, 240;
pedigree of the counts, 253–256;
rebels in (1173), ii. 137.
_See_ Aremburg, Biota, David, Elias, Gersendis, Herbert, Hugh,
Margaret, Paula, Roland
Maine, river, _see_ Mayenne
Malachi, S., ii. 93, 94
Malachi II., king of Ireland, ii. 85
Malchus, bishop of Waterford, ii. 89
Malcolm IV., king of Scots, his claims on Northumberland etc., i. 435;
submits to Henry II., 438;
at war of Toulouse, 462;
homage to young Henry, ii. 14, 15
Malmesbury abbey, i. 83–87;
castle surrendered to Stephen, 304;
taken by Henry, 397.
_See_ Ealdhelm, Godfrey, Maidulf, Turold, Warin, William
Maminot, _see_ Walkelyn
Mandeville, _see_ Geoffrey, William
Manorbeer, ii. 452
Mans, Le, (_Vindinum_), its early history, i. 201–203;
cathedral, 202, 238;
bishop, people and count, 202, 204;
advocacy of the see granted to Geoffrey Martel, 205;
taken by William, 218;
“commune” of, 222;
surrendered to Elias, 227;
marriage of Geoffrey and Matilda at, 244;
Henry Fitz-Empress born at, 268;
Geoffrey buried at, 390;
the young king buried at, ii. 230;
Henry II. at, 257, 258;
taken by Philip, 259, 263;
submits to Arthur, 389;
burnt by John, 390;
given up to John, 394;
hospital, 198.
_See_ Avesgaud, Gervase, Julian, Sainfred
Mantes, _see_ Gaubert, Walter
Map, _see_ Walter
March, Spanish, _see_ Barcelona
Marche, La, bought by Henry II., ii. 214
Margaret of France, daughter of Louis VII. and Constance, i. 446;
betrothed to young Henry, 448;
intrusted to Henry II., 451;
Vexin settled upon her, 467;
married, 470;
crowned, ii. 81;
quarrels over her dowry, 232, 236;
marries Bela of Hungary, 235
Margaret of Maine, i. 216, 254
Marmion, _see_ Robert
Marmoutier, abbey of, i. 181
Marshal, _see_ John, William
Marson, i. 125
Martel, ii. 227
Martin, S., bishop of Tours, his life, i. 179–181;
appearance to Fulk the Good, 118;
“reversion,” 128, 131, 182;
“subvention,” 182, 187;
abbey, _see_ Tours
Martin-le-Beau, S., i. 187
Mary of Boulogne, daughter of Stephen and Matilda, i. 469
Mary of France, daughter of Louis VII. and Eleanor, i. 445
Massey, _see_ Hamo
Matilda (Eadgyth) of Scotland, first wife of Henry I., i. 9, 17, 93,
94;
called “good queen Maude,” 66
Matilda, daughter of Henry I. of England, widow of Emperor Henry V.,
i. 242;
acknowledged as Henry’s heiress, 243, 268, 269, 274;
marries Geoffrey, 243, 244, 258–260;
leaves him, 266;
goes to England, 268;
returns, _ib._;
quarrels with Henry, 270;
qualifications for the throne, 274, 275;
enters Normandy, 276;
lands at Arundel, 309;
goes to Bristol and Gloucester, 310;
negotiates with the legate, 321;
in London, 323, 324;
besieges the legate at Winchester, 325, 326;
blockaded by the queen, 326;
escapes, 327, 328;
goes to Oxford, 329;
sends for Geoffrey, 330;
besieged at Oxford, 332;
escapes, 333;
returns to Gaul, 344;
trial of her claims at Rome, 370;
later years, 442, 443;
death, ii. 61
Matilda of Boulogne marries Stephen, i. 273;
crowned, 283;
blockades Dover, 299;
mediates between Stephen and David, 300;
drives the Empress from London, 324;
wins over the legate, _ib._;
besieges Winchester, 326;
negotiates for Stephen’s release, 328;
founds S. Katharine’s Hospital, 357;
tries to reconcile Stephen and Theobald, 369;
dies, 399
Matilda, eldest daughter of Henry II. and Eleanor, born, i. 445;
betrothed to Henry the Lion, ii. 55;
married, 59–60, 189;
aid for her marriage, 125;
death, ii. 257 note 2{1241}
Matilda of Anjou, daughter of Fulk V., betrothed to William the
Ætheling, i. 234;
married, 236;
quarrel over her dowry, 240;
nun at Fontevraud, 248
Matilda of Angoulême, wife of Hugh IX. of Lusignan, ii. 398
Matilda of Saxony, daughter of Henry the Lion, her suitors, ii. 237;
marriage, 274
Matilda of Ramsbury, i. 304
Matthew, son of Theodoric count of Flanders, marries Mary of Boulogne,
i. 469;
dies, ii. 147
Matthew, tutor to Henry Fitz-Empress, i. 375;
chancellor, 376
Maude, “Good Queen,” i. 66.
_See_ Matilda
Mauléon, _see_ Savaric
Maurice, son of Geoffrey Greygown, i. 134, 135;
regent of Anjou, 153, 156, 194
Maurice Fitz-Gerald, ii. 100, 102
Maurice de Prendergast, ii. 102, 110, 111
Maurienne, ii. 131, 132.
_See_ Alice, Humbert
Mayenne or Maine, river, i. 97
Mayenne, _see_ Geoffrey
Measures, Assize of, ii. 348
Meiler Fitz-Henry, ii. 101
Melgueil, i. 463
Melisenda, queen of Jerusalem, i. 246, 361
Melun, i. 149, 189, 190
Merania, _see_ Agnes
Mercadier, ii. 383, 390
Merlin’s prophecy, its fulfilment, ii. 429
Merton priory, i. 51, 67
Messina, Richard at, ii. 294–296;
treaty of, 368, 369
_Metalogicus_, i. 504
Metz, _see_ Chrodegang
Metz (in Gâtinais?), i. 168
Meulan, _see_ Robert, Waleran
Middle Kingdom, i. 99, 120
Middlesex, sheriffs of, i. 46
Miles Beauchamp, i. 320
Miles Cogan, ii. 105, 106, 184
Miles Fitz-David, ii. 101
Miles of Gloucester defies Stephen, i. 295;
joins the Empress at Oxford, 324;
earl of Hereford, 327;
slain, 334
Mirebeau, castle built by Fulk Nerra, i. 139, 151;
siege of, by Geoffrey Plantagenet, 267;
bequeathed to Geoffrey Plantagenet II., 394, 444;
Eleanor besieged in, ii. 406;
Arthur captured at, _ib._
Mohun, _see_ William
Molêmes, abbey of, i. 69, 70
Monmouth, _see_ Geoffrey
Montbazon, i. 151, 163
Montboyau, i. 161, 163
Montcontour or St. Jouin-de-Marne, battle of, i. 174
Montferrat, _see_ Conrad, Jane, William
Montfichet’s Castle, i. 44
Montfort, _see_ Almeric, Bertrada, Robert, Simon
Montlouis, battle of, i. 186
Montmartre, conference at, ii. 71
Montmirail, conference at, ii. 61, 62, 69;
razed, 365
Montpellier, _see_ William
Montrésor, i. 151
Montreuil-Bellay, siege of, i. 384–387.
_See_ Gerald, Grecia
Montrichard, i. 151
Mont-St.-Michel, siege of, i. 5.
_See_ Robert
Moorfields, i. 47
_Mort d’ancester_, ii. 172
Mortain, _see_ John, Stephen, William
Mortemer, _see_ Hugh, Roger
Morville, _see_ Hugh, Richard
Mountmorris, _see_ Hervey
Mowbray, _see_ Robert, Roger
Munster conquered by the Geraldines, ii. 183.
_See_ Brian, Donell, Murtogh, Terence
Murdac, _see_ Henry
Murtogh Mac-Murrough, ii. 109, 111
Murtogh O’Brien, king of Munster, ii. 89, 90
Murtogh O’Lochlainn, king of Aileach, ii. 90, 97, 98
Nantes, i. 101;
ceded to the Bretons, 102;
Angevin claims on, 116, 117;
attacked by Normans, 117;
counts and bishops, 121, 122;
seized by Conan, 146;
won by Fulk, 148;
Geoffrey Martel’s dealings with, 212;
union with Rennes, 449;
again independent, _ib._;
seized by Conan IV. and claimed by Henry II., 450;
surrendered to Henry, 451;
significance of its acquisition, 452, 453;
Henry and Geoffrey at, ii. 58.
_See_ Alan, Drogo, Geoffrey, Guerech, Hoel, Judicaël
Nest, daughter of Rees Ap-Tewdor, ii. 100, 453
Neubourg, i. 282, 470
Neufmarché, council at, i. 502
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, i. 37
Newark, i. 304
Niall of the Nine Hostages, ii. 84
Nicolas Breakspear or of Langley, i. 475, 476, 481.
_See_ Adrian
Nigel, bishop of Ely and treasurer, i. 302;
defends Devizes, 304;
chancellor, 418;
treasurer again, _ib._
Nomenoë, king of Britanny, i. 101
Nonancourt, treaty at, ii. 213
Nonant, _see_ Hugh
Norfolk, _see_ Hugh Bigod
Normandy, duchy of, i. 111;
confusion under Robert Curthose, 11;
campaigns of Henry I. in, 11–13;
relations with England, 13, 23, 24;
with France, 24;
invaded by Henry of France, 210, 213;
claimed by Matilda, 276;
invaded by Geoffrey, 281, 306–308;
offered to Theobald of Blois, 282, 337;
Stephen in, 286;
granted to his son, _ib._;
conquered by Geoffrey, 338–342;
ceded to Henry Fitz-Empress, 369, 377;
attacked by Louis VII. and Eustace, 385, 386, 394;
inquest on ducal demesnes, ii. 128;
rebels in (1173), 138, 139;
attacked by Louis etc., 143;
loyal barons in (1173), 146;
Henry’s administration in, 192–194;
laid under interdict, 315, 380;
submits to Philip, 424, 425;
dukes of, their claims upon Maine, i. 124, 203, 216.
_See_ Geoffrey, Henry, Hrolf, John, Richard, Robert, William
Normans destroy Fleury, i. 112;
attack Nantes, 117;
fusion of Normans and English, 24, 48, 49; ii. 489, 490
“Normans” and “English,” different meanings of, i. 23, 24
Northallerton, i. 289
Northampton, Ralf of Chester seized at, i. 336;
Henry II. at, ii. 23, 143;
priory of S. Andrew at, 37;
meeting of justiciars and barons at, 391;
Assize of, 172, 173;
councils at, i. 136; ii. 32–40, 172, 427.
_See_ David, Simon
Northmen, their work in Frankland and in England, i. 100;
enter the Loire, 101;
sack Nantes, _ib._;
attack Toulouse, Paris, Bordeaux, 102;
defeated at Aclea, _ib._;
sack Tours, _ib._;
seize Angers, 103;
driven out, 104;
besiege Paris, _ib._;
defeated by Rudolf, 115;
attacks on Tours, 181, 182.
_See_ Ostmen
Northumberland, Scottish claims upon, i. 286
Norwich, i. 40, 41;
sacked, ii. 155, 156;
massacre of Jews at, 289;
castle, i. 284, 430.
_See_ Herbert, John
Nostell priory, i. 68
Nottingham, i. 320;
council at, ii. 329
O’Briens, their rivalry with the O’Neills, ii. 86.
_See_ Donell, Murtogh, Terence
O’Conor, _see_ Roderic, Terence
Octavian, cardinal, _see_ Victor IV.
Odelin de Umfraville, ii. 145, 153, 160
Odo, count of Paris, duke of the French and king of West-Frankland,
i. 104
Odo, count of Anjou, i. 109, 133
Odo I., count of Blois, Chartres and Tours, i. 145
Odo II., count of Blois etc., seizes Melun, i. 149, 189;
character, 150;
defeated at Pontlevoy, 157, 158;
count of Champagne, 160;
besieges Montboyau, 161;
Saumur, 163;
attacks Amboise, _ib._;
seizes Sens, 164;
aims at the Empire, 166;
death, 167
Odo, count of Gascony and duke of Aquitaine, i. 174, 175
Odo, son of Robert II. of France, i. 177, 178
Odo of Britanny, i. 211, 212
Oilly, _see_ Robert
O’Lochlainn, _see_ Donell, Murtogh
O’Neills, their rivalry with the O’Briens, ii. 86
Orderic, i. 24
Orkneys, _see_ Ralf
Orléans, viscounts of, i. 249, 250
O’Ruark, _see_ Tighernan
Osbern Huitdeniers, i. 353
Oseney priory, i. 43
Ossory, ii. 102
Ostia, _see_ Alberic
Ostmen, their settlements in Ireland, ii. 82–84;
relations with England, 83, 86, 87;
struggle with Malachi and Brian, 85;
ecclesiastical relations, 87–89;
share in Irish politics, 89, 90
Otto I., Emperor, i. 119
Otto II., Emperor, i. 119, 120
Otto of Saxony, son of Henry the Lion, his proposed marriage, ii. 341;
chosen Emperor, 372, 373;
quarrel with John, 407
Otto, cardinal, ii. 69
Oundle, i. 60
Owen, prince of North Wales, i. 435, 436, 437; ii. 179
Oxford, i. 41–44;
Robert Pulein at, 43;
Henry I. at, 44;
bishops seized at, 303, 304;
Matilda at, 322, 331–333;
military advantages, 331;
taken by Stephen, 332;
Vacarius at, 379;
Richard I. born at, 445;
Henry and Thomas meet at, ii. 24;
Gerald de Barri at, 460;
councils at, i. 283, 402; ii. 349–350, 427;
castle, i. 41, 331–334;
gilds, 30, 43, 52;
S. Frideswide’s priory, 42;
Port-meadow, 43;
schools, _ib._; ii. 462.
_See_ John
Paganel, _see_ Ralf
Pageham, ii. 32
Palestine, _see_ Jerusalem
Paparo, _see_ John
Paris attacked by northmen, i. 102, 104;
capital of the duchy of France, 105;
university of, ii. 461.
_See_ Odo
Paschal III., antipope, ii. 55
Patrick, bishop of Dublin, ii. 88, 89
Patrick, earl of Salisbury, governor of Aquitaine, ii. 58, 59
Paula of Maine, i. 222, 254
Pavia, council at, i. 498, 499.
_See_ William
Peace, edict for preservation of, ii. 339, 340;
conservators of, their origin, 340
Pembroke, Flemings in, i. 52.
_See_ Gilbert, Richard, William
Pencarn, ii. 179
Périgueux, ii. 223
Périgord, _see_ Adalbert
Peter, duke of Aquitaine, _see_ William VI.
Peter “Bogis,” ii. 421, 422
Peter of Capua, cardinal-legate, ii. 375, 395
Peter of Celle, i. 482, 483
Peter of Colechurch, ii. 486
Peter de Leia, bishop of S. David’s, ii. 455, 456
Peter Lombard, ii. 461, 467
Peter of Saintes, tutor to Henry Fitz-Empress, i. 375
Peterborough, “Black Book” of, i. 58;
chronicle, 81
Petronilla, queen of Aragon, wife of Raymond-Berengar IV. of
Barcelona, i. 463
Petronilla, wife of Tertullus, i. 128
Petronilla of Grandmesnil, countess of Leicester, ii. 138, 150
Pevensey, i. 430
Peverel, _see_ William
Philip I., king of France, i. 220, 221, 224
Philip Augustus, son of Louis VII. of France, born, ii. 56;
receives young Henry’s homage, 62;
crowned, 216;
quarrels with Blois, 217;
marries Elizabeth, _ib._;
crowned again, 218;
succeeds Louis, 219;
demands Margaret’s dowry, 232, 236;
quarrel with Flanders, 234;
plots with Geoffrey, 243;
claims wardship of Eleanor of Britanny, _ib._;
of Arthur, 245;
attacks Berry, _ib._;
truce, 246;
takes the cross, 249;
takes Châteauroux, 251;
attacks Auvergne, 252;
negotiates with Richard, 253, 254;
receives his homage, 255;
takes Le Mans, 259;
Tours, 264;
treaty with Richard, 275;
policy in Palestine, 320;
returns to France, 313;
demands the Vexin etc., _ib._, 314;
alliance with John, 314, 323, 363;
attacks Normandy, 363, 364;
routed at Fréteval, 366, 367;
secures Arthur, 370;
war with Flanders, 374;
truce with Richard, 375;
takes Evreux, 389;
receives homage of Arthur, 390;
of Eleanor, _ib._;
razes Ballon, 394;
divorces Ingebiorg, 395;
treaty with John, 395–397;
takes Ingebiorg back, 401;
cites John to his court, 402, 408;
conquers eastern Normandy, 403;
besieges Arques, 405, 406;
burns Tours, 407;
takes Saumur and enters Poitou, 410;
successes in Normandy, _ib._;
takes Isle of Andely, 411–416;
Petit-Andely, 416;
Radepont, _ib._;
Château-Gaillard, 416–423;
Normandy submits to, 424–425;
conquers Poitou, 426;
takes Loches and Chinon, _ib._;
marches against John, 428
Philip, count of Flanders, joins young Henry, ii. 141;
threatens to invade England, 155, 158;
his policy in France, 216;
quarrels with France, 234, 235;
pilgrimage to Canterbury, 235
Philip de Broi, ii. 21
Philip Gay, i. 297
Philip of Gloucester, i. 335, 336
Philip de Thaun, i. 94
Pierre-Pécoulée, treaty of, i. 234
Pipe Rolls, i. 26, 431–432
Pipewell, council at, ii. 277
Pisa, _see_ Henry
Poitiers stormed by Adalbert of Périgord, i. 145;
Henry and Eleanor married at, 393;
council at, 458;
Richard enthroned at, ii. 130;
taken by Philip, 426.
_See_ John
Poitou granted to Hugh the Great, i. 123;
barons of, appeal to Philip against John, ii. 402;
conquered by Philip, 426.
_See_ Aquitaine
_Polycraticus_, i. 486–491
Pontaudemer, siege of, i. 241
Pontigny, abbey of, i. 70;
S. Thomas at, ii. 42, 54
Pont-l’Evêque, _see_ Roger
Pontlevoy, battle of, i. 157, 158
Popes, _see_ Adrian, Alexander, Calixtus, Celestine, Eugene, Innocent,
Lucius, Paschal, Urban
Porhoët, _see_ Eudo
Port, _see_ Adam
Portmannimot of Oxford, i. 43
Port-meadow at Oxford, i. 43
Port-reeve, i. 29;
of London, 45.
_See_ Gilbert Becket
Portsmouth, ii. 400, 427
Premonstratensians, i. 357, 358
Prendergast, _see_ Maurice
Provence, i. 454, 463.
_See_ William
Provins, i. 482
Pucelle, _see_ Gerard
Puiset, _see_ Hugh
Pulein, _see_ Robert
Pullus, _see_ Robert
Quévilly, i. 471; ii. 198
Radepont, ii. 403, 416
Rahere, founder of S. Bartholomew’s hospital, i. 67
Rainald, bishop of Angers, i. 193
Raino, bishop of Angers, i. 131, 132
Ralf, bishop of the Orkneys, i. 289, 355
Ralf, bishop of Rochester, made archbishop of Canterbury, i. 68
Ralf, earl of Chester, his marriage, i. 314;
claims Carlisle, _ib._;
seizes Lincoln castle, 315;
brings Robert to relieve it, 316;
at battle of Lincoln, 317, 320;
again seizes the castle, 334;
joins Stephen, 336;
imprisoned, _ib._;
gives up Lincoln, _ib._;
revolts again, 377, 395;
dies, 399
Ralf, earl of Chester, second husband of Constance of Britanny,
ii. 369, 370
Ralf of Bayeux, i. 241
Ralf de Broc, ii. 39, 76, 79, 149
Ralf de Diceto, dean of S. Paul’s, ii. 439;
his Angevin History, i. 127
Ralf of Faye, ii. 129
Ralf Flambard, justiciar, i. 8, 9, 21, 32, 432;
bishop of Durham, 80
Ralf of Fougères, ii. 137, 147, 148, 258
Ralf de Glanville, ii. 145, 160;
justiciar, 177;
takes the cross, 248;
resigns and dies, 279
Ralf of Issoudun, ii. 401, 405
Ralf Paganel, i. 295, 298
Ralf of Varneville, chancellor to Henry II., ii. 142, 297
Ralf of Vermandois, i. 307
Ramirez the Monk, king of Aragon, i. 463
Ramsbury, _see_ Matilda
Rancogne, _see_ Geoffrey
Rathbreasil, synod of, ii. 93
Raymond-Berengar III., count of Barcelona, i. 463
Raymond-Berengar IV., count of Barcelona, i. 463, 466
Raymond of St. Gilles, count of Toulouse, i. 454, 455
Raymond V., count of Toulouse, his marriage, i. 458;
war with Henry II., 464–467;
meets Henry at Grandmont, ii. 58;
does him homage, 133;
struggle with Aragon, 211;
quarrel with Richard, 244, 250, 251;
death, 371
Raymond VI., count of Toulouse, marriage, ii. 371;
homage to John, 397
Raymond Trencavel, viscount of Béziers and Carcassonne, i. 462, 464,
466
Raymond the Fat, ii. 104, 108, 183
Reading, i. 282, 322; ii. 61, 240, 308
Redvers, _see_ Baldwin
Rees Ap-Griffith, prince of South Wales, his dealings with Henry II.,
ii. 164, 179–181, 237;
with John and Richard, 280;
death, 351
Reginald, earl of Cornwall, i. 391; ii. 144, 146
Reginald, chancellor to Frederic Barbarossa, and archbishop of Cöln,
ii. 55
Reginald Fitz-Urse, ii. 78
Reims, councils at, i. 206, 237, 367, 368.
_See_ Gervase, William
Remigius, bishop of Dorchester, moves his see to Lincoln, i. 39
Rennes united with Nantes, i. 449.
_See_ Conan, Hoel, Juhel
Richard, third son of Henry II. and Eleanor, born, i. 445;
first betrothal, 463;
invested with Aquitaine and betrothed to Adela, ii. 62;
enthroned at Poitiers, 130;
revolts, 135;
submits, 165;
his character, 206–208;
fights the barons in Aquitaine, 209, 210, 214, 215, 220, 223;
refuses homage to his brother, 224;
takes Hautefort, 231;
refuses to give up Aquitaine, 233;
war with Geoffrey and John, _ib._;
reconciled, 234;
gives up Aquitaine to Eleanor, 235;
wars with Toulouse, 244, 250, 251;
negotiates a truce, 246;
seizes the Angevin treasure, _ib._;
reinstated in Aquitaine, 247;
takes the cross, 248;
tries to regain Châteauroux, 252;
negotiates with Philip, 253, 254;
meets Henry and Philip at Bonmoulins, 254;
homage to Philip, 255;
encounter with William the Marshal, 261;
scene with Henry at Colombières, 266;
comes to Fontevraud, 271;
reconciled with the Marshal, 272;
recognized as Henry’s successor, 273;
duke of Normandy, 274;
treaty with Philip, 275;
goes to England, _ib._;
crowned, 276;
fills vacant sees, 277, 278;
his policy, 278;
appoints justiciars, 279, 283;
sells sheriffdoms etc., 280;
dealings with Wales, _ib._;
with Scotland, 281;
with John, 281–282;
goes to Normandy, 287;
holds council there, 288;
possible successors, 295;
treaty with Tancred, _ib._;
marriage, 296;
names William of Monreale for the primacy, 297;
sends Walter of Rouen to England, 297, 298;
his voyage, 317;
conquers Cyprus, _ib._;
alliance with Guy of Lusignan, 318, 320;
reaches Acre, 319;
quarrel with Leopold of Austria, _ib._;
relations with other crusaders, 319–321;
truce with Saladin, 321;
homeward voyage, 322;
wrecked and captured, _ib._;
given up to the Emperor, 324;
his ransom, 325, 326;
negotiates with Philip and John, 327;
returns to England, 328;
imposes taxes, _ib._, 329;
negotiates with Scotland, 330;
crowned at Winchester, _ib._, 331;
king of Burgundy, 331;
leaves England, _ib._;
forgives John, 334;
gives license for tournaments, 342;
annuls his charters, 343, 356;
sends the abbot of Caen to England, 343;
quarrel with S. Hugh, 350;
edict against the clergy, 355;
cessions to Philip, 361;
difficulties in Gaul, 361, 362;
treaty with Philip, 364;
goes to Normandy, 365;
to Tours, 365, 366;
regains Loches, 366;
routs Philip at Fréteval, _ib._, 367;
claims wardship of Arthur, 370;
alliance with Toulouse, 371;
with Henry VI., 372;
called to elect an emperor, _ib._;
league against Philip, 374;
truce, 375;
builds Château-Gaillard, 375–380;
quarrel with Abp. Walter, 380, 381;
lays siege to Châlus, 382;
wounded, 384;
dies, 385, 386;
burial, 386, 387;
his encouragement of municipal life, 470;
grant to merchants of Cöln, 485
Richard, archbishop of Canterbury, ii. 170, 434
Richard I., bishop of London, i. 45
Richard II., bishop of London, i. 502, 503
Richard Fitz-Nigel, treasurer and bishop of London, ii. 277;
his _Gesta Henrici_, 439
Richard of Ilchester, ii. 66;
bishop of Winchester, 158, 176;
work in the Exchequer, 193, 194;
seneschal of Normandy, 193;
death, 277
Richard de Clare, earl of Pembroke or Striguil, ii. 99, 100;
goes to Ireland, 103;
takes Waterford, 104;
marriage, _ib._;
blockaded in Dublin, 109, 110;
summoned by Henry, 112;
does homage for Leinster, 113;
in Normandy with Henry, 145, 182;
governor of Ireland, 182;
death, 183
Richard le Breton, ii. 78
Richard Fitz-Count, son of Robert of Gloucester, i. 386, 405; ii. 146
Richard Fitz-Godoberd, ii. 100
Richard of La Haye, i. 340, 341
Richard of Hommet, constable of Normandy, ii. 146
Richard de Lucy, justiciar, his character, i. 417;
his share in election of Thomas, ii. 1–3;
excommunicated, 66;
takes Leicester, 146;
marches against the Scots, 149;
besieges Huntingdon, 154, 156;
protests against the forest visitation, 171;
retires to a monastery, 176
Richard de Morville, ii. 139, 161
Richenda de Clères, sister of William of Longchamp, ii. 305
Richer de l’Aigle, i. 51, 395
Richmond, _see_ Alan
Ridel, _see_ Geoffrey
Rievaux abbey, i. 71
Robert I., king of France, i. 149, 164
Robert the Brave, count of Anjou, i. 102;
duke of the French, 103
Robert the Magnificent, or the Devil, duke of Normandy, i. 166
Robert, son of William the Conqueror, betrothed to Margaret of Maine,
i. 216;
homage to Geoffrey the Bearded, 217;
to Fulk Rechin, 223;
seeks Fulk’s help in Maine, _ib._;
sells the Cotentin to Henry, 4;
wars with his brothers, 5, 6;
pledges Normandy to Rufus, 3;
crusade, _ib._;
invades England, 9;
war with Henry, 11;
taken prisoner, 13;
dies, 271
Robert Bloet, chancellor, justiciar and bishop of Lincoln, i. 22
Robert II., bishop of Lincoln, ii. 24
Robert I., bishop of Hereford, i. 370, 495
Robert of Melun, i. 481;
bishop of Hereford, ii. 24
Robert of Bellême, count of Alençon etc., i. 6;
banished, 10;
sues for peace, 11;
flies at Tinchebray, 13;
captures Elias, 225;
imprisoned, 233
Robert, count of Burgundy, i. 178
Robert, count of Dreux, i. 394
Robert, earl of Ferrers, ii. 139, 163
Robert, earl of Gloucester, son of Henry I., friend of William of
Malmesbury, i. 92, 94;
escorts Matilda over sea, 243;
at Henry’s death, 270;
dispute for precedence with Stephen, 274;
joins Stephen, 283;
defies him, 294;
comes to England, 309;
marches to Lincoln, 316, 317;
receives Stephen’s surrender, 320;
made prisoner, 327;
exchanged, 329;
goes to fetch Geoffrey, 330;
returns, 332;
besieges Wareham, _ib._;
takes Portland and Lulworth, 333;
meets his sister at Wallingford, 334;
routs Stephen at Wilton, _ib._;
builds a castle at Farringdon, 335;
helps Geoffrey in Normandy, 338, 339;
dies, 343, 344
Robert I., earl of Leicester and count of Meulan, i. 16, 54, 56
Robert II., earl of Leicester, joins Henry, i. 400;
justiciar, 417;
at council of Northampton, ii. 39;
refuses the kiss of peace to Reginald of Cöln, 55, 56;
dies, 61
Robert III., earl of Leicester, rebels, ii. 138, 142;
goes to England, 148;
made prisoner, 150;
restored, 167;
repulses Philip from Normandy, 363
Robert II., count of Meulan, ii. 138
Robert de Barri, ii. 101
Robert de Bruce, ii. 145
Robert, abbot of Caen, ii. 343, 344
Robert Fitz-Stephen, ii. 100;
goes to Ireland, 101;
blockaded in Carrick, 109;
made prisoner, 111;
released, 113
Robert of Marmion, i. 335
Robert de Montfort defeats Henry of Essex in ordeal, ii. 60;
rebels, 138
Robert of Mowbray, ii. 155
Robert I. of Oilly, i. 41, 42, 331
Robert II. of Oilly founds Oseney priory, i. 43;
gives up Oxford to the Empress, 322;
death, 332
Robert Pulein, i. 43, 44
Robert Pullus, i. 483
Robert of Sablé, i. 343
Robert of Selby, chancellor of Sicily, i. 365
Robert of Sillé, ii. 137
Robert de Stuteville, ii. 145, 153, 160
Robert of Torigny or _de Monte_, ii. 194
Robert of Turnham, seneschal of Anjou, ii. 388, 389;
of Poitou, 426;
prisoner, 427
Rocamadour, ii. 74, 226, 227
Rochelle, La, ii. 428
Roches, _see_ William
Rochester, _see_ Ralf, Walter
Roderic O’Conor, king of Connaught, ii. 97;
of Ireland, 98;
treaty with Dermot,102;
gathers a host against him, 104;
blockades Dublin, 109, 110;
routed, 110, 111;
promises tribute to Henry II., 116;
treaty, 182
Roger, king of Sicily, i. 365
Roger of Pont-l’Evêque, i. 354, 368;
archbishop of York, 477;
earlier career, 478, 479;
accepts the royal customs, ii. 24;
dispute with S. Thomas, 30;
crowns young Henry, 72;
appeals to the king, 78;
dies, 285
Roger, chaplain to Henry I., chancellor, bishop of Salisbury and
justiciar, i. 22;
his administration, 25, 26;
called the “Sword of Righteousness,” 26;
his Church policy, 63;
joins Stephen, 278;
his family, 302;
relations with Stephen and with the Empress, _ib._, 303;
seized at Oxford, 303, 304;
death, 310
Roger, earl of Clare, ii. 12, 16, 180
Roger, earl of Hereford, i. 429
Roger of Howden, i. 82; ii. 439
Roger de Lacy, ii. 400, 401;
at Château-Gaillard, 411, 417, 418, 423
Roger of Montrésor, i. 151
Roger de Mortemer, ii. 299
Roger de Mowbray, ii. 139, 152, 160, 162, 163
Roger “the Poor,” chancellor, i. 302, 303
Rohesia, wife of Gilbert Becket, i. 50, 352
Roland, count of Maine, i. 203
Roland of Siena, cardinal, _see_ Alexander III.
Rome, relations of William and Lanfranc with, i. 15;
trial of Stephen’s and Matilda’s claims at, 370;
schism at, 498
Ronceray, i. 165 note 3{363}, 166; ii. 200
Roscilla of Loches, wife of Fulk the Red, i. 110
Rotrou, archbishop of Rouen, ii. 72, 81
Rouen surrenders to Geoffrey Plantagenet, i. 341, 342;
besieged by Louis VII., ii. 164;
palace, 196;
young Henry buried at, 232;
Richard’s heart buried at, 387;
Arthur imprisoned at, 407;
submits to Philip, 425.
_See_ Rotrou, Walter
Rouergue, i. 454
Roumare, _see_ William
Roxburgh, i. 287
Rudolf of Burgundy, king of West-Frankland, i. 111, 115
Rufus, S., priory of, i. 476
Saher de Arcelles, i. 363
Sainfred, bishop of Le Mans, i. 204
Saintes granted to Fulk Nerra, i. 159, 173;
taken by William VII. of Aquitaine, 215;
regained and lost again, 216.
_See_ Peter
Saintonge ceded to Geoffrey Martel, i. 174;
granted to Fulk Rechin, 214;
war of, 215, 216, 252, 253
Saint-Saëns, _see_ Elias
Saints, Old-English, revived veneration for, i. 33, 80
Saladin tithe, ii. 249
Salisbury, i. 32–33.
_See_ Herbert, Hubert, Jocelyn, John, Patrick, William
Saltwood, ii. 79
Sancho VI., king of Navarre, submits to Henry II.’s arbitration,
ii. 190
Sancho VII., king of Navarre, suppresses revolt in Gascony and attacks
Toulouse, ii. 316;
helps Richard, 366, 367
Saumur, i. 161;
taken by Fulk Nerra, 162;
blockaded by William of Poitou, 213;
betrayed to Fulk Rechin, 220;
burnt, _ib._;
Henry II. at, ii. 256;
taken by Philip, 410;
abbey of S. Florence, i. 162, 163.
_See_ Gelduin
Savaric of Mauléon, ii. 405, 426
Saxony, _see_ Henry, Matilda, Otto
Scarborough, i. 428
Schools, Augustinian, i. 43;
at Oxford, _ib._, ii. 462;
London, i. 47;
Malmesbury, 84, 85.
_See_ Universities
Scotland, its relations with Henry I., i. 96.
_See_ David, Henry, Matilda, William
Scutage, i. 432, 433;
the Great, 459–461;
of 1195, ii. 343;
1196, 348
Sees, removal of, i. 40
Selby, _see_ Robert
Sempringham, order of, i. 359, 360;
helps S. Thomas, ii. 41
Seneschal of France, office of, i. 450
Sens, i. 164; ii. 42, 68
Serfdom in twelfth century, i. 61, 62
Serlo the Mercer, mayor of London, ii. 472
Severn, valley of, i. 35
Sherborne castle, i. 304
“Sheriff’s Aid,” ii. 15
Sheriffs of London, i. 45; ii. 471;
Middlesex, i. 46;
inquest on (1170), ii. 126, 127
Shrewsbury, i. 295, 298, 299
Sibyl, queen of Jerusalem, ii. 247, 320
Sibyl of Anjou, daughter of Fulk V., i. 240, 241
Sicily conquered by Henry VI., ii. 371, 372.
_See_ Constance, Jane, Roger, Tancred, William
Sillé, _see_ Hugh, Robert
Simeon of Durham, i. 81, 82
Simon, count of Montfort, i. 467
Simon de Montfort, count of Evreux, ii. 138
Simon, earl of Northampton, ii. 144;
claim to Huntingdon, 154
Simon of Dover, i. 363
Simon Fitz-Peter, ii. 21
Sleaford, i. 304
Smithfield, i. 47;
S. Bartholomew’s priory and hospital, 67
Soissons, ii. 42, 65.
_See_ Guy, William
Solomon, king of Britanny, i. 103
Spain, proposed crusade in, i. 453, 497
Standard, battle of the, i. 289–291
Stephen Harding, S., i. 69, 70
Stephen of Blois, son of Stephen-Henry and Adela, i. 235, 236;
his “Lombard grandmother,” 256;
brought up by Henry I., 273;
count of Mortain, _ib._;
marriage, _ib._;
relations with Henry, 274;
oath to Matilda, _ib._;
goes to England, 276;
gains the treasury, 277;
crowned, 279;
first charter, _ib._;
character, 280, 281;
treaty with Scotland, 282;
early successes, 283;
second charter, 284;
revolt against him, _ib._;
holds forest assize, 285;
goes to Normandy, 286;
invades Scotland, 287;
relations with the barons, 292, 293;
with Earl Robert, 294;
revolt in the west, 295–299;
grants Northumberland to Henry of Scotland, 300;
besieges Ludlow, 301, 302;
takes Leeds, 302;
seizes Roger of Salisbury and his nephew, 303, 304;
summoned before a council at Winchester, 305;
penance, 306;
truce with Geoffrey, 307;
besieges Arundel, 309;
sends Matilda to Bristol, 310;
keeps Whitsuntide in the Tower, 311;
besieges Lincoln castle, 315;
exploits at battle of Lincoln, 319, 320;
prisoner, 320;
exchanged, 329;
takes Wareham and Cirencester, 330;
Oxford, 332;
besieges the castle, 332, 333;
routed at Wilton, 334;
takes Farringdon, 335;
builds Crowmarsh, 336;
imprisons Ralf of Chester, _ib._;
wears his crown at Lincoln, 337;
banishes Abp. Theobald, 368;
trial of his claims at Rome, 370;
reconciled to Theobald, 371;
knights Eustace, 377;
drives Vacarius from Oxford, 379;
refuses a safe-conduct to John Paparo, 380;
proposes to crown Eustace, 381, 390;
imprisons the bishops, 391;
meets Henry, 397;
treaty, 400;
last days, 403;
death, 404
Stephen I., count of Champagne, i. 160
Stephen II., count of Champagne, i. 177;
rebels, 177, 178;
defeated, 178, 186;
dies, 271
Stephen-Henry, count of Blois, Chartres and Champagne, receives Fulk
Rechin’s homage, i. 221;
his parents, 255, 256;
marriage, 271, 272;
crusade and death, 272
Stephen of Turnham, seneschal of Anjou, ii. 273, 279
Stockbridge, i. 327
Striguil, _see_ Richard, William
Strongbow, ii. 99 note 7{445}
Stuteville, _see_ Robert, William
Suger, abbot of S. Denis, his views on “Frenchmen and Englishmen,”
i. 24;
policy, 387, 388;
opposes divorce of Louis VII., 392;
death, _ib._, 399
Sulpice of Amboise, i. 156, 157, 194
Synods, _see_ Councils
Taillebourg, ii. 215
Talbot, _see_ Geoffrey
Tallage of 1174, ii. 173; 1194, 337, 342
Talvas, _see_ William
Tancarville, _see_ William
Tancred, king of Sicily, ii. 295
Tara, ii. 84
Taxation, i. 25, 26, 27;
of towns, 29;
“Sheriff’s Aid,” ii. 15;
aid _pour fille marier_, 125, 126;
Saladin tithe, 249;
tax on moveables, 325;
taxes in 1194, 328, 329, 337, 342;
1195, 343;
1198, 352;
in London, 344, 345
Templars, i. 357
Terence O’Brien, king of Munster, ii. 89
Terence O’Conor, king of Connaught, ii. 90, 91
Tertullus, i. 127, 128
Theobald, abbot of Bec, archbishop of Canterbury, i. 300, 351;
joins the Empress, 321;
his policy, 351, 352, 378;
household, 352, 354, 379, 477;
legate, 356, 380;
“swimming-voyage” to Reims, 368;
banished, _ib._;
consecrates Gilbert Foliot, 371;
returns, _ib._;
holds a council, 381;
imprisoned, 391;
escapes, _ib._;
relations with Henry II., 418;
consecrates Roger of York, 479;
last days, 503–504;
death, 506
Theobald I. the Trickster, count of Blois, Chartres and Tours, i. 106,
115, 116
Theobald III., count of Blois, Chartres and Tours, i. 177;
rebels, 177, 178;
marches to relieve Tours, 184, 185;
prisoner, 186;
cedes Tours to Geoffrey Martel, 187;
his marriages, 255, 256;
seizes Champagne, 271
Theobald IV. the Great, count of Blois, Chartres and Champagne,
i. 273;
character, 275, 276;
alliance with Henry I., 231;
wars with Louis VI., _ib._, 235;
invited to Normandy, 282, 337;
treaties with Geoffrey, _ib._;
with Stephen, 286;
opposes Louis VII.’s attempt on Toulouse, 457;
quarrel with Louis, 384;
death, 392, 399
Theobald V., count of Blois etc., seeks to marry Eleanor, i. 392;
betrothed to Adela, 445;
ally of Henry II., 466
Theobald Walter, ii. 293, 343
Theodoric, count of Flanders, i. 342
Thierceville, i. 354
Thomas of London, son of Gilbert Becket, his boyhood, i. 50, 51;
studies in Paris, 352;
clerk to Osbern Huitdeniers, 353;
enters Theobald’s household, 353, 354;
goes with him to Rome, 356;
to Reims, 368;
studies at Bologna and Auxerre, 379;
opposes crowning of Eustace, 391;
chancellor, 418;
archdeacon of Canterbury, 420, 479, 480;
his person, 421;
life as chancellor, 421–425;
relations with Henry, 423, 425–427;
embassy to France, 446–448;
exploits in war of Toulouse, 465, 466;
combat with Engelram of Trie, 467;
opposes marriage of Mary of Boulogne, 469;
takes charge of young Henry and procures his recognition as heir,
471–473;
relations with Roger of Pont-l’Evêque, 478;
with John of Salisbury, 485;
character as chancellor and as primate, 504, 505;
archbishop of Canterbury, ii. 1–3;
consecrated, 4–5;
institutes Trinity-Sunday, 5;
receives his pall and resigns the chancellorship, 6;
life as archbishop, 7–10;
his _eruditi_, 8;
plans of Church reform, 11;
reclaims alienated lands, 11, 12;
dispute with Roger of Clare, 12, 16;
with William of Eynesford, 17;
resigns archdeaconry, 13;
relations with Gilbert Foliot, _ib._, 31;
at council of Tours, 14;
resists Henry at Woodstock, 15, 16;
refuses the “customs,” 22, 23;
young Henry taken from him, 23;
meets Henry at Northampton, _ib._;
consecrates Robert of Melun, 24;
accepts the customs, _ib._;
swears to them at Clarendon, 25;
rejects the constitutions of Clarendon, 28;
forbids marriage of William of Anjou, 29;
dispute with Roger of York, 30;
attempts flight, 31;
meets Henry at Woodstock, 31, 32;
dispute with John the marshal, 32, 33, 34;
at council of Northampton, 33–40;
flight, 41;
goes to Soissons and Sens, 42;
effects of the quarrel in England, 46–49;
resigns his ring to the Pope, 52;
goes to Pontigny, 42, 54;
life there, 63;
writes to Henry, 63, 64;
pilgrimage to Soissons, 65;
excommunications at Vézelay, 66;
legate, 67;
goes to Sens, 68;
meets Henry at Montmirail, 69;
excommunications at Clairvaux, 70;
meets Henry at Montmartre, 71;
proclaims interdict, 71;
forbids crowning of young Henry, 72;
meets Henry at Fréteval, 73;
Tours and Chaumont, 74;
his estates restored, 74;
returns to England, 77;
excommunicates the De Brocs, 78;
slain, 79;
canonized, 431;
results of his life and death, 431–433;
lives of, 439
Thomas Pactius, prior of Loches, i. 126, 127, 153, note 3{318}
Thorgils, ii. 82
Thouars, _see_ Almeric, Guy
Thurstan, archbishop of York, his charter to Beverley, i. 30, 38;
protects Fountains, 71;
makes truce with the Scots, 286;
organizes defence of Yorkshire, 288, 289;
dies, 354
Tiberias, battle of, ii. 247
Tickhill, ii. 282, 291, 299, 323, 328
Tighernan O’Ruark, chief of Breffny, ii. 97, 109, 111, 114
Tinchebray, battle of, i. 12, 13, 227
Tintern abbey, i. 71
Tithe, the Saladin, ii. 249
Torigni, 386, 405.
_See_ Robert
Tortulf the Forester (Torquatius), i. 105, 127, 128
Totnes, gild at, ii. 469
Toucques, i. 307
Toulouse, relations with France, i. 457, 458;
war of Henry II. against, 464–466;
its results, 468;
attacked by Sancho of Navarre and the seneschal of Gascony, ii. 316;
counts, i. 454–456.
_See_ Alfonso, Bertrand, Raymond, William
Touraine, i. 107;
ceded to Geoffrey Martel, 187, 188
Tournaments authorized by Richard I., ii. 342
Tours (_Cæsarodunum_) sacked by northmen, i. 102;
early history, 178–183;
granted to Geoffrey Martel, 178;
siege, 184;
ceded by Theobald, 187;
council at, ii. 14;
taken by Philip, 264;
Richard at, 365, 366;
meeting of Arthur and the Lusignans at, 405;
burnt by Philip, 407;
destroyed by John, _ib._;
S. Martin’s abbey, i. 102, 113, 114, 181–183;
its banner, 186;
Châteauneuf, 183, ii. 264, 366.
_See_ Adaland, Gatian, Gregory, Lidorius, Martin, Odo, Theobald
Towns, English, their origin and character, i. 27–29;
taxation, 25, 29;
_firma burgi_, 29;
condition under Henry I., 30–54;
fusion of races in, 48, 49;
progress under the Angevins, ii. 468–472
Tracy, _see_ William
Trade, English, with Flanders, i. 30, 52;
with Ireland, 32, 34, 35; ii. 87;
of Winchester, i. 32;
Bristol, 34, 35; ii. 87;
Chester, i. 36; ii. 87;
Lincoln, i. 39, 40;
Norwich, 40;
London, 49;
under the Angevins, ii. 481–485
Treasurers, _see_ Nigel, Richard
Trencavel, _see_ Raymond
Trent, river, i. 40, 344, 345
Trèves (near Saumur), i. 162
Trie, _see_ Engelram
Trinity Sunday instituted, ii. 5
Trussebut, _see_ William
Tuam, metropolis of Connaught, ii. 94
Tunbridge, ii. 12, 16
Turlogh, _see_ Terence
Turnham, _see_ Robert, Stephen
Turold, abbot of Malmesbury, i. 84
_Turones_ or _Turoni_, i. 179
Twinham or Christchurch, i. 32
Ulger, bishop of Angers, i. 370
Ulster invaded by John de Courcy, ii. 184
Umfraville, _see_ Odelin
Universities, ii. 460–468.
_See_ Bologna, Cambridge, Oxford, Paris
Urban II., Pope, i. 225
Urban III., Pope, ii. 242, 247
Ursus or Ours, S., i. 110
Vacarius, i. 379
Varaville, i. 213
Varneville, _see_ Ralf
Vegetius Renatus, his book _De Re Militari_, i. 386
Vendôme, abbey of Holy Trinity at, i. 172.
_See_ Adela, Burchard, Elizabeth, Fulk, Geoffrey, John
Verdun, treaty of, i. 98
Vere, _see_ Aubrey
Vermandois, ii. 360.
_See_ Ralf
Verneuil, ii. 364, 365, 425
Vexin, the French, granted to William Clito, i. 243
Vexin, the Norman, ceded to Louis VII., i. 388;
settled on Margaret, 467, 471;
seized by Henry II., 470
Vézelay, S. Thomas at, ii. 66
Victor IV., antipope, i. 498, 499; ii. 55
Vienna, Richard I. captured at, ii. 322
Villeins in twelfth century, i. 57–62
Vulgrin, count of Angoulême, invades Poitou, ii. 209;
submits to Richard, 210, 215;
dies, 220
Wace, ii. 446
Walbrook, i. 46
Waldric or Gualdric, chancellor of England and bishop of Laon, i. 22,
30
Waleran, count of Meulan, rebels, i. 241;
raises siege of Carham, 287;
escorts the Empress to Bristol, 310;
submits to Geoffrey, 337, 338
Wales, Flemish settlers in, i. 52;
Henry I.’s dealings with, 96;
condition in twelfth century, ii. 99;
Henry II.’s wars in, i. 435–437; ii. 179–181, 237;
crusade preached in, ii. 249;
Gerald’s books on, 458.
_See_ Cadwallader, David, Madoc, Nest, Owen, Rees
Walkelyn Maminot, i. 295, 299
Wallingford, the Empress at, i. 334;
blockaded by Stephen, 396;
relieved by Henry, 397;
treaty of, 400;
council at, 429;
granted to John, ii. 282;
taken from him, 323, 328
Walter of Coutances, archbishop of Rouen, ii. 297;
sent to England, 298, 300;
supports John against W. Longchamp, 308, 309;
justiciar, 311, 312;
hostage for Richard’s ransom, 326;
quarrel with Richard, 380, 381;
invests John as duke, 389
Walter, archdeacon of Canterbury, i. 478;
bishop of Rochester, _ib._, 506; ii. 4
Walter, count of Mantes, i. 217, 218
Walter de Clare, i. 71
Walter Lespec founds Kirkham priory, i. 67;
Rievaux, 71;
at battle of the Standard, 289;
death, 399
Walter Map, ii. 449–452
Walter, _see_ Hubert
Wareham, i. 295, 299, 330, 332, 333
Warin, abbot of Malmesbury, i. 84
Wark, ii. 153.
_See_ Carham
Warren, _see_ Isabel, Hameline, William
Waterford, its origin, ii. 83;
taken by Richard of Striguil, 104;
Henry II. at, 113;
bull “Laudabiliter” published at, 182.
_See_ Malchus
Waverley abbey, i. 71
Weavers, gilds of, i. 30, 52; ii. 481
“Week-work,” i. 57
Weobly, i. 296
Westminster, i. 46;
coronations at, i. 279, 405; ii. 72, 276, 391, 399;
councils at, i. 300, 329, 330; ii. 3, 22, 23, 190
Wexford, ii. 102, 109, 111, 117
Wherwell, i. 327
_White Ship_ wrecked, i. 239
Wigford, i. 439
Wigmore, i. 429
William, S., archbishop of York, i. 354, 355, 364–367, 478
William the Conqueror, king of England and duke of Normandy, his
ecclesiastical customs, i. 16;
charter to London, 45;
shelters Bp. Gervase of Le Mans, 206;
helps King Henry against Geoffrey Martel, 207;
besieges Domfront, 208, 209;
regains Alençon and fortifies Ambrières, 209;
challenges Geoffrey, 211;
treaty with Herbert of Maine, 216;
conquers Maine, 218;
Maine revolts against, 221, 222;
treaty with Anjou, 223;
death, _ib._
William II. Rufus, king of England, regains Maine, i. 3;
restores Carlisle, 36;
his palace at Westminster, 46;
war with Elias, 225, 226;
death, 3, 226
William the Lion, king of Scots, does homage to young Henry, ii. 72;
joins his rebellion, 140;
invades England, 149, 153, 154;
his border castles, 152;
prisoner, 161, 162;
does homage for his crown, 166, 178;
marriage, 237;
negotiations with Richard, 281, 330, 341;
with John, 391, 393;
homage to John, 399
William II. the Good, king of Sicily, betrothed to Jane, daughter of
Henry II., ii. 60;
marriage, 189;
death, 318
William the Ætheling, son of Henry I., betrothed to Matilda of Anjou,
i. 234;
receives homage, _ib._;
marriage, 236;
drowned, 239
William, eldest son of Henry II. and Eleanor, i. 429, 431
William of Corbeil, prior of Chiche, archbishop of Canterbury, i. 68;
joins Stephen, 278;
crowns him, 279;
dies, 299, 300
William, archbishop of Bordeaux, ii. 140
William I. Shockhead (_Tête-d’Etoupe_), count of Poitou and duke of
Aquitaine, i. 123
William II. Fierabras, duke of Aquitaine, i. 123, 139, 173
William IV. the Great, duke of Aquitaine, i. 159, 173
William V. the Fat, duke of Aquitaine, i. 173, 174
William VI. (Peter) the Bold, duke of Aquitaine, i. 176;
relations with Geoffrey Martel, 210–213;
death, 213
William VII. (Guy-Geoffrey), duke of Aquitaine, i. 215;
war with Anjou, _ib._, 252, 253;
regains Saintonge, 216
William VIII., duke of Aquitaine, offers his duchy in pledge to
William Rufus, i. 3;
imprisons Fulk of Anjou, 229;
marriage, 455
William IX., duke of Aquitaine, bequeaths his daughter to Louis VII.
of France, i. 383;
claims on Toulouse, 455
William Longsword, duke of Normandy, i. 111
William of Longchamp, bishop of Ely and chancellor, ii. 277, 279;
character and antecedents, 285–287;
justiciar, 288;
proceedings at York, 290;
quarrel with Hugh of Durham, 291;
legate, _ib._;
his difficulties, 292, 293;
his rule, 294;
quarrels with John, 298–301;
struggle with Geoffrey of York, 305, 306;
with John etc., 307–311;
his fall, 311, 312;
appeals to the Pope and excommunicates his enemies, 312;
negotiates with Eleanor and John, 315;
goes to England for Richard’s ransom, 325;
makes truce with Philip, 367;
mission to Germany, 372;
death, 373, note 4{1866}
William, dean of York, i. 355;
bishop of Durham, _ib._;
death, 399
William Giffard, chancellor, i. 22;
bishop of Winchester, 71
William I., count of Arles or Provence, i. 190, 191
William, count of Angoulême, ii. 136
William IV. count of Toulouse, i. 455
William of Aubigny, earl of Arundel, i. 298; ii. 144, 145, 149
William of Aumale, earl of York, i. 289
William of Blois, chancellor of Lincoln, ii. 456, 461
William, earl of Gloucester, ii. 144, 163, 184
William de Mandeville, earl of Essex, ii. 144;
supports Henry II., 145, 260;
justiciar, 279;
death, 282
William the Marshal rebels against Henry II., ii. 139;
relations with the young king, 228;
early history, 260;
encounter with Richard, 261;
arranges Henry’s funeral, 269, 270;
meeting with Richard, 272;
marriage, 274;
co-justiciar, 279;
regent for John, 390, 391;
earl of Striguil, 393;
sent to Normandy, 400, 401;
goes to relieve Les Andelys, 413;
ambassador to Philip, 424;
persuades John to dismiss the host, 427
William, marquis of Montferrat, ii. 60
William of Mortain, earl of Cornwall, i. 11, 13
William of Roumare, i. 314;
earl of Lincoln, 315
William, earl of Salisbury, ii. 144
William Longsword, earl of Salisbury, son of Henry II., ii. 428
William, earl of Warren and count of Mortain and Boulogne (son of
Stephen), i. 430, 469
William of Anjou, third son of Geoffrey and Matilda, born, i. 374;
proposal to conquer Ireland for him, 431;
death, ii. 29
William de Barri, ii. 453
William the Clito, son of Robert of Normandy, i. 235, 238;
betrothed to Sibyl of Anjou, 240;
marriage annulled, 241;
excommunicated, 242;
Flanders granted to, 243;
marriage, _ib._;
death, 266
William de Courcy, seneschal of Normandy, ii. 146, 193
William of Dover, i. 335
William of Eynesford, ii. 17
William Fitz-Alan, i. 295, 298
William Fitz-Aldhelm, seneschal to Henry II., ii. 113, 116;
governor of Ireland, 183
William Fitz-Duncan, i. 287
William Fitz-John, i. 295
William Fitz-Ralf, seneschal of Normandy, ii. 194, 260
William Fitz-Osbert or Long-beard, ii. 345–347
William Fitz-Stephen, ii. 38
William of Malmesbury, i. 83–93;
his account of the Angevins, 196
William of Mohun, i. 295
William “the Monk,” i. 342
William, lord of Montpellier, i. 462, 466
William of Newburgh, ii. 441–445
William Peverel, i. 295, 299, 320, 428
William of Pavia, cardinal, ii. 69
William, archbishop of Reims, ii. 218
William des Roches, ii. 394, 407, 426
William of Soissons, i. 481
William de Stuteville, ii. 160, 393
William Talvas, lord of Alençon, i. 236, 270, 281
William of Tancarville, chamberlain of Normandy, ii. 142
William de Tracy, ii. 78
William Trussebut, i. 307
William de Vesci, ii. 145, 160
William of Ypres, i. 285, 294;
at battle of Lincoln, 318, 319;
helps the queen in Kent, 324;
at siege of Winchester, 326;
captures Earl Robert, 327;
tries to reconcile Stephen and Abp. Theobald, 369
Wilton, i. 33;
battle at, 334
Winchester, i. 31;
treaty of, 9;
fair, 32;
Stephen received at, 277;
Matilda received at, 321;
palace, 325;
siege, 326;
Matilda’s escape from, 327, 328;
councils at, 305, 322, 402;
hospital of S. Cross, 357;
coronations at, ii. 81, 330;
meetings of John and W. of Longchamp at, 298, 299, 300.
_See_ Henry, Richard, William
Windsor, ii. 182, 314, 323, 328
Witham, river, i. 38, 40
Wolvesey-house, i. 325
Woodstock, Henry I. at, i. 44, 94;
Henry II. and Thomas at, ii. 31, 32;
Welsh princes at, 14, 179;
council at, 14–16, 43, 44
Wool-trade, Flemish and English, i. 30, 52
Worcester, i. 35;
its historical school, 81, 82;
Henry II. at, 439
Würzburg, council at, ii. 56
York, i. 36;
Henry I.’s charter to, _ib._;
S. Mary’s abbey, 71;
dispute for the primacy, 354, 355, 364–366;
tumults at, 380;
Henry Murdac enthroned at, 381;
end of the schism, 382;
Henry II. and William the Lion at, ii. 178;
massacre of Jews at, 289, 290;
council at, 340;
commune at, 469.
_See_ Geoffrey, Henry, Hubert, Hugh, John, Roger, Thurstan, William
Yorkshire, its condition under Henry I., i. 36, 38
_ERRATA_
Page 71, line 3, _for_ “the two kings” _read_ “they.”
” 81, ” 3 from foot, _for_ “Caen” _read_ “Avranches.”
” 81, note 6, line 11, _for_ “doubtless” _read_ “probably.”
” 147, ” 3, ” 6, _for_ “Châteauneuf” _read_ “Neufchâtel.”
” 152, line 16, _for_ “Robert” _read_ “Roger.”
” 155, ” 8, _dele_ “in person.”
” 157, ” 7, _for_ “thousand” _read_ “hundred.”
” 160, ” 22, _for_ “Robert” _read_ “Roger.”
” 160, lines 22, 23, _dele_ “had ... now.”
” 163, line 5, from foot, _for_ “Robert” _read_ “Roger.”
END OF VOL. II.
_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_.
MESSRS. MACMILLAN & CO.’S PUBLICATIONS.
--------------------
WORKS BY E. A. FREEMAN, D.C.L., LL.D.,
_Regius Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford, &c._
THE CHIEF PERIODS OF EUROPEAN HISTORY. Six Lectures read in the
University of Oxford in Trinity Term, 1885, with an Essay on GREEK
CITIES under ROMAN RULE.
CONTENTS:--Europe before the Roman Power--Rome the Head of Europe--Rome
and the New Nations--The Divided Empire--Survivals of Empire--The
World Romeless. Greek Cities under Roman Rule. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d.
THE METHODS OF HISTORICAL STUDY. Eight Lectures read in the University
of Oxford in Michaelmas Term, 1884, with the Inaugural Lecture on the
Office of the Historical Professor.
CONTENTS:--The Office of the Historical Professor--History and its
Kindred Studies--The Difficulties of Historical Study--The Nature of
Historical Evidence--Original Authorities--Classical and Mediæval
Writers--Subsidiary Authorities--Modern Writers--Geography and
Travel--Index. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d.
GREATER GREECE AND GREATER BRITAIN, AND GEORGE WASHINGTON THE EXPANDER
OF ENGLAND. Two Lectures, with an Appendix on Imperial Federation.
Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
HISTORICAL ESSAYS. First Series. Fourth Edition. 8vo. 10s. 6d.
CONTENTS:--The Mythical and Romantic Elements in Early English
History--The Continuity of English History--The Relations between
the Crown of England and Scotland--St. Thomas of Canterbury and his
Biographers, etc.
HISTORICAL ESSAYS. Second Series. Second Edition, with additional
Essays. 8vo. 10s. 6d.
CONTENTS:--Ancient Greece and Mediæval Italy--Mr. Gladstone’s Homer
and the Homeric Ages--The Historians of Athens--The Athenian
Democracy--Alexander the Great--Greece during the Macedonian
Period--Mommsen’s History of Rome--Lucius Cornelius Sulla--The
Flavian Cæsars, etc. etc.
HISTORICAL ESSAYS. Third Series. 8vo. 12s.
CONTENTS:--First Impressions of Rome--The Illyrian Emperors and
their Land--Augusta Treverorum--The Goths at Ravenna--Race and
Language--The Byzantine Empire--First Impressions of Athens--Mediæval
and Modern Greece--The Southern Slaves--Sicilian Cycles--The Normans
at Palermo.
GENERAL SKETCH OF EUROPEAN HISTORY. New Edition, enlarged, with Maps,
etc. 18mo. 3s. 6d. (Vol. I. of _Historical Course for Schools_.)
EUROPE. 18mo. 1s. [_Literature Primers_.]
COMPARATIVE POLITICS. Lectures at the Royal Institution. To which is
added the “Unity of History.” 8vo. 14s.
HISTORY OF THE CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF WELLS, as Illustrating the History
of the Cathedral Churches of the Old Foundation. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
OLD ENGLISH HISTORY. With Five Coloured Maps. Ninth Edition. Revised.
Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s.
HISTORICAL AND ARCHITECTURAL SKETCHES; chiefly Italian. Illustrated by
the Author. Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d.
THE GROWTH OF THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES. Fifth
Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s.
SUBJECT AND NEIGHBOUR LANDS OF VENICE. Being a Companion Volume to
“Historical and Architectural Sketches.” With Illustrations. Crown
8vo. 10s. 6d.
ENGLISH TOWNS AND DISTRICTS. A Series of Addresses and Essays. With
Illustrations and a Map. 8vo. 14s.
THE HISTORY AND CONQUESTS OF THE SARACENS. Six Lectures. Third Edition,
with New Preface. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
THE OFFICE OF HISTORICAL PROFESSOR. An Inaugural Lecture read in the
Museum at Oxford, October 15, 1884. Crown 8vo. 2s.
DISESTABLISHMENT AND DISENDOWMENT. What are they? Fourth Edition. Crown
8vo. 1s.
--------------------
By JOHN RICHARD GREEN, M.A., LL.D.,
_Late Honorary Fellow of Jesus College, Oxford._
THE CONQUEST OF ENGLAND. With Portrait and Maps. Demy 8vo. 18s.
THE MAKING OF ENGLAND. With Maps. 8vo. 16s.
“It is a wonderful piece of conscientious original work.”--_Pall Mall
Gazette._
HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH PEOPLE. In Four Vols. 8vo. 16s. each.
Vol. I. EARLY ENGLAND--FOREIGN KINGS--THE CHARTER--THE PARLIAMENT.
With Eight Coloured Maps. Vol. II. THE MONARCHY, 1461–1540--THE
REFORMATION, 1540–1603. Vol. III. PURITAN ENGLAND, 1603–1660--THE
REVOLUTION, 1660–1688. With Four Maps. Vol. IV. THE REVOLUTION,
1683–1760--MODERN ENGLAND, 1760–1815. With Maps and Index.
A SHORT HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH PEOPLE. With Coloured Maps, Genealogical
Tables, and Chronological Annals. Crown 8vo. 8s. 6d. 122nd Thousand.
READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY. Selected and Edited by JOHN RICHARD GREEN.
In Three Parts. Fcap. 8vo. 1s. 6d. each.
--------------------
AN ANALYSIS OF ENGLISH HISTORY, based upon Green’s “Short History
of the English People.” By C. W. A. TAIT, M.A., Assistant Master,
Clifton College. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
LECTURES ON THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By M. J. GUEST. With Maps. Crown
8vo. 6s.
THE EXPANSION OF ENGLAND. By J. R. SEELEY, Regius Professor of Modern
History in the University of Cambridge. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d.
LETTERS, TRACTS, AND SPEECHES ON IRISH AFFAIRS. By EDMUND BURKE.
Arranged and Edited by MATTHEW ARNOLD. With a Preface. Crown 8vo. 6s.
A HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. From the Earliest Times to the
Year 1530. By H. C. MAXWELL LYTE, M.A., F.S.A., Author of “History of
Eton College, 1440–1875,” Deputy Keeper of the Public Records. 8vo.
16s.
ANNE BOLEYN. A Chapter of English History, 1527–1536. By PAUL
FRIEDMANN. Two vols. Demy 8vo. 28s.
LIFE OF ROBERT FAIRFAX of Steeton, Vice-Admiral, Alderman, and Member
for York, A.D. 1666–1725. Compiled from Original Letters and other
Documents. By CLEMENTS R. MARKHAM, C.B., F.R.S., Author of “The Life
of the Great Lord Fairfax.” Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d.
THE VICTORIAN HALF-CENTURY. By CHARLOTTE M. YONGE, Author of “The Heir
of Redclyffe,” “Cameos from English History,” “A History of France,”
&c. With a New Portrait of the Queen. Crown 8vo. Paper covers, 1s.;
cloth binding, 1s. 6d.
OUR NATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. A Short Sketch for Schools. By ANNA
BUCKLAND. 18mo. 1s.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.
Transcriber’s Note
The Errata have been moved to the end of each volume of the book, the
corrections listed in them have been applied to this transcription.
Footnotes have been renumbered and moved to the end of paragraphs.
All references to footnote numbers (i.e. page and note number) are
followed by the footnote number used here in braces e.g. {386}.
Some formatting and punctuation in citations and the index have been
standardized.
Variant spelling, inconsistent hyphenation and inconsistent spelling
of people’s names are retained, as are inconsistent punctuation after
roman numerals (e.g. “i.” and “i” both occur) and inconsistent use of
italics, however a few palpable printing errors have been corrected.
The anchor for footnote 177, originally footnote 3 on page 37, was
missing. It has been placed by the transcriber.
Footnote 924 (originally page 185 footote 2) “whose” has been changed
to “those” in “the general list of those were to accompany him”.
Page 382 “that” changed to “than” in “nothing less than”.
Page 462 “Norman” changed to “Normans” in “at the coming of the
Normans”.
Page 503 in the index entry for Henry I. his “good peace,” “30 note 1”
changed to “30 note 4{58}”
An index entry for William of Reims has been added.
The following have been left as printed:
Footnote 959 (originally page 200 footnote 2), the references to page
149, 151 and 44 of the Chronicals of S. Albin. in Eglises d’Anjou, have
been left in the order they were printed.
Page 205 “at one” in “southern Gaul at one rose against its northern
master” might be either “at once” or “as one”.
Footnote 2130 (originally page 425 footnote 5) It is possible that
“Will. Armor. as above, pp. 86 and 188.” should read “Will. Armor. as
above, pp. 86, _Philipp._, l. viii. (_ibid_), p. 188.”
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "England under the Angevin Kings, Volume II" ***
Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.