STEPHEN
The election of Stephen by London is a fact the full importance of
which, in the history of the City, was first brought out by the late
J. R. Green. This importance signified, in fact, a great deal more
than the election of a king by the City of London, a thing by no means
new in the history of the City. First, we know that many Normans
flocked over to London after the Conquest. Normans there were before
that event, but their numbers rapidly increased in consequence. By
this time we see that the immigrants no longer considered themselves
Normans only, but Londoners as well. William’s Charter especially
recognises and provides for this fusion when he “greets all the
burgesses in London, Frenchmen and Englishmen, friendly.” The Normans
were his subjects as well as the English: they were not, therefore,
aliens in his English cities. For instance, Gilbert Becket, father
of the Archbishop, was by birth a burgher of Rouen, and his wife was
the daughter of a burgher of Caen. But his son Thomas was always an
Englishman. The Normans in London, therefore, took their part without
question in the election of a king of England. And they elected Stephen
rather than Henry, the son of the Empress, because Henry was also the
son of Geoffrey Plantagenet, and the hatred of Norman for Angevin was
greater even than the hatred of Welshman for Englishman. It survived
the immigration of the Norman into England; it found expression when
King Henry died, and when his stepson Geoffrey of Anjou seemed likely
to claim the throne of England, as he claimed the duchy of Normandy,
in right of his wife. In Normandy, however, the people rose as one
man, and chased him out of the dukedom. In London, the City seems to
have assumed the power of electing the King of England, as in the case
of Henry, and without consulting bishop, abbot, or noble, did elect
Stephen, the nephew of King Henry, and crowned him in Westminster.
There were, in fact, two forces working for Stephen. The first was this
said Norman jealousy of Anjou. The second was perhaps stronger. The
religious revival of which we spoke as belonging to the reign of Henry,
was spreading over the whole of western Europe. Green calls it the
first of the great religious movements which England was to experience.
He seems to forget, however, that there was a much earlier religious
movement, which filled the monasteries and weakened the country, by
draining it of fighting-men, in the eighth century.
“Everywhere in town and country men banded themselves together for
prayer, hermits flocked to the woods, noble and churl welcomed the
austere Cistercians as they spread over the moors and forests of the
North. A new spirit of enthusiastic devotion woke the slumber of the
older orders, and penetrated alike to the home of the noble Walter
d’Espec at Rievaulx, or of the trader Gilbert Becket in Cheapside.
It is easy to be blinded in revolutionary times, such as those of
Stephen, by the superficial aspects of the day; but, amidst the
wars of the Succession, and the clash of arms, the real thought of
England was busy with deeper things. We see the force of the movement
in the new class of ecclesiastics that it forces on the stage. The
worldliness that had been no scandal in Roger of Salisbury becomes a
scandal in Henry of Winchester. The new men, Thurstan, and Ailred, and
Theobald, and John of Salisbury—even Thomas himself—derive whatever
weight they possess from sheer holiness of life or aim.”—_Historical
Studies._
The outward sign of this movement was the foundation of many religious
houses, and the building of many churches. The number and importance
of the foundations created in or about London, not taking into account
those founded in the country, within a space of about twenty years,
indicate in themselves a widespread, deep-rooted, religious feeling.
It was an age of fervent faith; Stephen himself, rough soldier that he
was, felt its influence.
Now this religious fervour was openly scorned and scoffed at and
derided by the Angevins. Contempt for religion was hereditary with
them. From father to son they gloried in deriding holy things. In
the words of Green: “A lurid grandeur of evil, a cynical defiance of
religious opinion, hung alike round Fulc Nerra, or Fulc Rechin, or
Geoffrey Plantagenet. The murder of a priest by Henry Fitz-Empress,
the brutal sarcasms of Richard, the embassy of John to the Moslems
of Spain, were but the continuance of a series of outrages on the
religious feelings of the age which had begun long ere the lords of
Anjou became Kings of England.”
To the reasons why the City had taken upon itself to elect and to
crown Stephen, viz. the Norman hatred of Anjou, and resentment against
the man of no religion, must be added two more: the conviction that a
strong armed man, and not a woman, was wanted for the country; and a
general restlessness which, the moment the old king was dead, broke out
everywhere in acts of lawlessness and robbery.
It was not yet a time when peace was possible, save at intervals;
the barons and their following must needs be fighting, if not with
the common enemy, then with each other. The burghers of London, as
well as the barons, felt frequent attacks of those inward prickings
which caused the fingers to close round the hilt and to draw the
sword. Historians have not, perhaps, attached enough importance to
the mediæval—is it only mediæval?—yearning for a fight. There is
nothing said about it in any of the Chronicles, yet one recognises its
recurrence. One feels it in the air. Only a strong king could keep down
the fighting spirit, or make it find satisfaction and outlet in local
brawls.
Never in this country, before or after, was there such an opportunity
for gratifying this passion to be up and cutting throats. Historians,
who were ecclesiastics, and therefore able to feel for and speak of the
sufferings of the people, write of the horrors of war. The fighting-men
themselves felt none of the horrors. Though the country-people
starved, the men of war were well fed; though merchants were robbed
and murdered, the men of war were not hanged for the crime; to die on
the battlefield, even to die lingering with horrible wounds, had no
terrors for these soldiers; nay, this kind of death seemed to them
a far nobler lot than to die in a peaceful bed like a burgher. Dead
bodies lay in heaps where there had been a village—dead bodies of men,
women, and children, which corrupted the air. The shrieks of tortured
men rang from the castles, and the despairing cries of outraged maidens
from the farmhouse. The towns were laid in ruins, the cultivated lands
were laid desolate, the country was deserted by the people, yet these
things were not horrors to the men of war, they were daily sights. For
nearly twenty years the battlefield was the universal death-bed of the
Englishman; and since harvests were burned, cattle destroyed, rustics
murdered, priests and merchants robbed, one wonders how, at the end
of it, any one at all was left alive in England. As for the City of
London, it paid dearly for the choice of a king; and in the long run it
had to see the other side, the House of Anjou, come to reign over its
people.
[Illustration: A FIGHT
Nero MS., D. J. (12th cent.).]
Henry died on the 1st of December 1135. Twenty-four days afterwards,
Stephen received the crown from the hands of the Archbishop. During the
interval the country had become, suddenly, a seething mass of anarchy
and violence. A strong hand had held it down for more than thirty
years—a period, one would think, long enough for a spirit of obedience
to law and order to grow up in men’s minds. Not yet: the only obedience
was that due to fear; the only respect for law was that inspired by the
hardest and most inflexible of kings. The words used by the author of
the _Gesta Stephani_ were doubtless much exaggerated, but they point
to an outbreak of lawlessness which was certainly made possible by the
removal of Henry’s mailed hand.
“Seized with a new fury, they began to run riot against each other;
and the more a man injured the innocent, the higher he thought of
himself. The sanctions of the law, which form the restraint of a rude
population, were totally disregarded and set at naught; and men, giving
the reins to all iniquity, plunged without hesitation into whatever
crimes their inclinations prompted.... The people also turned to
plundering each other without mercy, contriving schemes of craft and
bloodshed against their neighbours; as it was said by the prophet,
‘Man rose up without mercy against man, and every one was set against
his neighbour.’ For whatever the evil passions suggested in peaceable
times, now that the opportunity of vengeance presented itself, was
quickly executed. Secret grudgings burst forth, and dissembled malice
was brought to light and openly avowed.” (Henry of Huntingdon.)
Then Stephen, crossing over from Ouissant (Ushant) with a fair wind,
landed at Dover, and made haste to march to London, where he counted
upon finding friends. His succession, indeed, was no new thing
suddenly proposed; there had been grave discussions, prompted by the
considerations above detailed, as to adopting Stephen as the successor.
In addition to his reputation as a soldier, Stephen possessed the charm
of personal attraction and generosity.
The City, however, as in the case of William the Conqueror and his son
Henry, elected Stephen king after a solemn Covenant that, “So long
as he lived, the citizens should aid him by their wealth and support
him by their arms, and that he should bend all his energies to the
pacification of the kingdom.”
Round (see below) discusses this covenant and the assertion in the
_Gesta_ that the Londoners claimed the right of electing the king. He
compares the oath taken by king or overlord at certain towns in France,
such as Bazas in Aquitaine, Issigeac in the Perigord, Bourg sur Mer in
Gascony, and Bayonne. At all these places the oath was practically in
the same form: the citizens swore obedience and fidelity to the king,
while the king in return swore to be a good lord over them, to respect
and preserve their customs, and to guard them from all injury. This
oath was, in fact, William the Conqueror’s Charter. It was probably
neither more nor less than this which the citizens of London exacted
from Stephen. Six years later it was the same oath which they exacted
from the Empress. Now, as the French towns referred to did not speak
or act in the name of the whole kingdom or the province, may not the
action of London in 1135 have been, not so much to assert their right
to elect the king, as their resolution to make their recognition
of a successor to the throne, when the succession was disputed, the
subject of a separate negotiation?
[Illustration: COSTUME OF ENGLISH KINGS OF THE ELEVENTH CENTURY
Royal MS. B VI.]
[Illustration: ANGLO-NORMAN LADIES OF HIGH DEGREE
Royal MS. B VI.]
At the first Easter after his coronation, Stephen held his Court at
Westminster, where he assembled a National Council, to which were
bidden the Bishops and Abbots and the Barons, “cum primis populi.” The
Easter celebrations had been gloomy of late years, owing to the sadness
which weighed down Henry after the death of his son. This function
revived the memory of former splendours—“quâ nunquam fuerat splendidior
vestibus.” That this Council was attended by the greatest barons of
the realm, is proved by the fact that two Charters there granted
are witnessed, one by fifty-five, and the other by thirty-six men,
including thirty-four noblemen of the highest rank.
_Geoffrey de Mandeville_ by Mr. J. H. Round is much more than a
biography: it is a scholarly—a profound—inquiry into the history of
England, and especially London, under King Stephen.
Geoffrey de Mandeville was the son of William de Mandeville, who
was Constable of the Tower in 1101; and the grandson of Geoffrey de
Mandeville, who appears to have come from the village of Mandeville
near Trevières in the Bessin, the name being Latinised into “De Magna
villâ.”
The elder Geoffrey founded a Benedictine priory at Hurley.
The younger Geoffrey appears at Stephen’s Court in 1136 as a witness
to certain deeds. He was created Earl of Essex in 1140: the date being
fixed by Round.
But the Empress was already in England: in 1141 (February 2) her great
victory at Lincoln placed her for the time in command of the situation,
and made Stephen a prisoner. She repaired to Winchester, where (March
2, 1141) she was elected “Domina Angliae.” She was received by the
Legate, the clergy, and the people, the monks and nuns of the religious
houses. She also took over the castle, with the crown and the royal
treasures.
What follows is a remarkable illustration of the power of London. It is
thus described by Sharpe (_London and the Kingdom_, vol. i. p. 48):—
“But there was another element to be considered before Matilda’s new
title could be assured. What would the Londoners, who had taken the
initiative in setting Stephen on the throne, and still owed to him
their allegiance, say to it? The Legate had foreseen the difficulty
that might arise if the citizens, whom he described as very princes of
the realm by reason of the greatness of their City (_qui sunt quasi
optimates pro magnitudine civitatis in Angliâ_), could not be won over.
He had therefore sent a special safe conduct for their attendance, so
he informed the meeting after the applause which followed his speech
had died away, and he expected them to arrive on the following day.
If they pleased they would adjourn till then. The next day (April 9)
the Londoners arrived, as the Legate had foretold, and were ushered
before the Council. They had been sent, they said, by the so-called
‘commune’ of London; and their purpose was not to enter into debate,
but only to beg for the release of their lord the King. This statement
was supported by all the barons then present who had entered the
commune of the City, and met with the approval of the archbishop and
all the clergy in attendance. Their solicitations, however, proved of
no avail. The Legate replied with the same arguments he had used the
day before, adding that it ill became the Londoners, who were regarded
as nobles (_quasi proceres_) in the land, to foster those who had
basely deserted their King on the field of battle, and who only curried
favour with the citizens in order to fleece them of their money. Here
an interruption took place. A messenger presented to the Legate a paper
from Stephen’s Queen to read to the Council. Henry took the paper,
and after scanning its contents, refused to communicate them to the
meeting. The messenger, however, not to be thus foiled, himself made
known the contents of the paper. These were, in effect, an exhortation
by the Queen to the clergy, and more especially to the Legate himself,
to restore Stephen to liberty. The Legate, however, returned the same
answer as before, and the meeting broke up, the Londoners promising to
communicate the decision of the Council to their brethren at home, and
to do their best to obtain their support.”
The negotiations dragged on. There are clear indications of tumults
and dissensions in the City: Geoffrey de Mandeville strengthened the
Tower; Aubrey de Vere, his father-in-law, formerly Sheriff and Royal
Chamberlain to Henry I., was slain in the streets; the Norman party
were not likely to yield without a struggle. However, in June 1141, a
deputation of citizens was sent to the Empress, who waited for them at
St. Albans. She made one promise, presumably the same made by William
her grandfather, by Henry her father, and by Stephen, that she would
respect the rights and privileges of the City; she was then formally
received by the notables, who rode out to meet her, according to
custom, at Knightsbridge.
“Having now obtained[26] the submission of the greatest part of the
kingdom, taken hostages and received homage, and being, as I have just
said, elated to the highest pitch of arrogance, she came with vast
military display to London, at the humble request of the citizens.
They fancied that they had now arrived at happy days, when peace and
tranquillity would prevail.... She, however, sent for some of the more
wealthy, and demanded of them, not with gentle courtesy, but in an
imperious tone, an immense sum of money. Upon this they made complaints
that their former wealth had been diminished by the troubled state of
the kingdom, that they had liberally contributed to the relief of the
indigent against the severe famine which was impending, and that they
had subsidised the King to their last farthing: they therefore humbly
implored her clemency that in pity for their losses and distresses
she would show some moderation in levying money from them.... When
the citizens had addressed her in this manner, she, without any of
the gentleness of her sex, broke out into insufferable rage, while
she replied to them with a stern eye and frowning brow, ‘that the
Londoners had often paid large sums to the King; that they had opened
their purse-strings wide to strengthen him and weaken her; that they
had been long in confederacy with her enemies for her injury; and that
they had no claim to be spared, and to have the smallest part of the
fine remitted.’ On hearing this, the citizens departed to their homes,
sorrowful and unsatisfied.”
[Illustration:
_Valentine and Sons, Ltd._
ST. JOHN’S CHAPEL, TOWER OF LONDON, NORMAN ARCHITECTURE]
The Empress came to London because she desired above all things to
be crowned at Westminster. This was impossible, or useless, without
the previous submission of London, and she did not gain her desire.
It is readily understood that there were malcontents enough in the
City. Her imperious bearing increased the number. Moreover, at this
juncture, Stephen’s Queen, Maud, arrived at Southwark with a large
army and began, not only to burn and to ravage the cultivated parts
of south London, but sent her troops across the river to ravage the
north bank. The Empress felt that she was safe within the walls. But
suddenly, at the hour of dinner, the great bell of St. Paul’s rang out,
and the citizens, obedient to the call, clutched their arms and rushed
to Paul’s Cross. The Empress was not in the Tower, but in a house or
palace near Ludgate. With her followers she had just time to gallop
through the gate and escape: her barons deserted her, each making for
his own estates; and the London mob pillaged everything they could find
in the deserted quarters. Then they threw open the gates of London
Bridge and admitted Stephen’s Queen; this done, they besieged the
Tower, which was commanded by Geoffrey de Mandeville.
The Empress had stayed in London no more than three or four days.
During this time, or perhaps before her entry into the City, she
granted a Charter to Geoffrey de Mandeville, in which she recognised
him as Earl of Essex—“concedo ut sit comes de Essex”—she also
recognised him as hereditary Constable of the Tower, and gave him
certain lands.
A Charter, or letter, from the Archbishop of Rouen to the citizens of
London, quoted by Round, also belongs, it would seem, though he does
not give the date, to this time:—
“Hugo D. G. Rothomagensis archiepiscopus senatoribus inclitis civibus
honoratis et omnibus commune London concordie gratiam, salutem eternam.
Deo et vobis agimus gratias pro vestra fidelitate stabili et certa
domino nostro regi Stephano jugiter impensa. Inde per regiones notae
vestra nobilitas virtus et potestas.”
The Normans of Normandy, then, were watching the struggle of Norman
_v._ Angevin in England with the greatest anxiety. The situation was
changed; Stephen’s Queen was in London: but the earl was still in the
Tower. It was necessary to gain him over. For this purpose she bribed
him with terms which were good enough to detach him from the side of
the Empress. This Charter is lost, but it is referred to by Stephen six
months later as “Carta Reginæ.” There remains only one “Carta Reginæ,”
which is, however, important to us because it names Gervase as the
Justiciar of London (see p. 285).
Geoffrey meanwhile proved his newly-bought adherence to the King by
seizing the Bishop of London in his palace at Fulham, and holding him
as a prisoner. A few weeks later, Geoffrey, with a large contingent
of a thousand Londoners, fully armed, was assisting at the rout of
Winchester.
On the 1st of November the King was exchanged for the Earl of
Gloucester. The importance of the event, as it was regarded by the
City of London, is curiously proved by the date of a private London
deed (Round, _G. de M._, p. 136): “Anno MCXLI., Id est in exitu regis
Stephani de captione Roberti filii regis Henrici.”
At Christmas 1141 the King was crowned a second time, just as, fifty
years later, after his captivity, Richard was crowned a second time.
Round ascribes Stephen’s second Charter to Geoffrey to the same date.
This Charter gave Geoffrey even better terms than he had received from
the Empress. He was confirmed as Earl of Essex and as Constable of the
Tower: he was made Justiciar and Sheriff of London and Middlesex: and
he was confirmed as Justiciar and Sheriff of the counties of Essex and
Hertford. The Charter acknowledges that Geoffrey was Constable of the
Tower by inheritance.
In a few months, Stephen being dead, and his troops dispersed, Geoffrey
went over again to the side of the Empress, and once more was rewarded
by a Charter, the full meaning of which will be found in Round. It was
the last of his many bargains. Matilda’s cause was lost with the fall
of Oxford (December 1142).
It would seem that the first care of Stephen was to conciliate the
Church, which had grievous cause for complaint. In the words of the
_Gesta Stephani_: “because there was nothing left anywhere whole and
undamaged, they had recourse to the possessions of the monasteries, or
the neighbouring municipalities, or any others which they could send
forth troops enough to infest. At one time they loaded their victims
with false accusations and virulent abuse; at another they ground them
down with vexatious claims and extortions; some they stripped of their
property, either by open robbery or secret contrivance, and others they
reduced to complete subjection in the most shameless manner. If any
one of the reverend monks, or of the secular clergy, came to complain
of the exactions laid on Church property, he was met with abuse, and
abruptly silenced with outrageous threats; the servants who attended
him on his journey were often severely scourged before his face, and
he himself, whatever his rank and order might be, was shamefully
stripped of his effects, and even his garments, and driven away or left
helpless, from the severe beating to which he was subjected. These
unhappy spectacles, these lamentable tragedies, as they were common
throughout England, could not escape the observation of the Bishops.”
A Council was held in London as soon as the King’s cause seemed secure.
It was there decreed that “any one who violated a church or churchyard,
or laid violent hands on a clerk or other religious person, should be
incapable of receiving absolution except from the Pope himself. It was
also decreed that ploughs in the fields, and the rustics who worked at
them, should be sacred, just as much as if they were in a churchyard.
They also excommunicated with lighted candles all who should contravene
this decree, and so the rapacity of these human kites was a little
checked.” (Roger of Wendover.)
It is significant, however, that in the _Gesta Stephani_ some of
the Bishops—“not all of them, but several”—assumed arms, rode on
war-horses, received their share of the booty, and imprisoned or
tortured soldiers and men of wealth who fell into their hands, wherever
they could.
In September 1148, after this Council, Stephen held a Court at St.
Albans. Among the nobles who attended was the great earl, Geoffrey de
Mandeville, a man, says Henry of Huntingdon, more regarded than the
King himself. His enemies, however, calling on the King to remember
his past treacheries, easily persuaded him that new treacheries were
in contemplation. Perhaps the King understood that here was a subject
too powerful, one who, like the Earl of Warwick later, was veritably a
king-maker, and was readily convinced that the wisest thing would be to
take a strong step and arrest him. This, in fact, he did.
Geoffrey was conveyed to London and confined in his own Tower, whither
a message was brought him that he must either surrender all his castles
to the King, or be hanged. He chose the former. So far as London is
concerned he vanishes at this point. It is not, however, without
interest to note that on his release he broke into open revolt. Like
Hereward, he betook himself to the fens and the country adjacent. He
seized upon Ramsey Abbey; he turned out the monks, and converted the
House into a fortified post; he stabled his horses in the cloisters;
he gave its manors to his followers; he ravaged the country in all
directions. He was joined by large numbers of the mercenaries then in
the country. He occupied a formidable position protected by the fens;
he held the castle of Ely; he held strong places at Fordham, Benwick,
and Wood Walton. He sacked and burned Cambridge and St. Ives, robbing
even the churches of their plate and treasures: all the horrors of
Stephen’s long civil wars were doubled in the ferocious career of this
wild beast; the country was wasted; there was not even a plough left;
no man tilled the land; every lord had his castle; every castle was a
robber’s nest.
“Some, for whom their country had lost its charms, chose rather to
make their home in foreign lands; others drew to the churches for
protection, and constructing mean hovels in their precincts, passed
their days in fear and trouble. Food being scarce, for there was a
dreadful famine throughout England, some of the people disgustingly
devoured the flesh of dogs and horses; others appeased their insatiable
hunger with the garbage of uncooked herbs and roots; many, in all
parts, sunk under the severity of the famine and died in heaps; others
with their whole families went sorrowfully into voluntary banishment
and disappeared. Then were seen famous cities deserted and depopulated
by the death of the inhabitants of every age and sex, and fields white
for the harvest, for it was near the season of autumn, but none to
gather it, all having been struck down by the famine. Thus the whole
aspect of England presented a scene of calamity and sorrow, misery
and oppression. It tended to increase the evil, that a crowd of
fierce strangers who had flocked to England in bands to take service
in the wars, and who were devoid of all bowels of mercy and feelings
of humanity, were scattered among the people thus suffering.”—_Gesta
Stephani._
Miracles were observed testifying to the wrath of God. The walls
of Ramsey Abbey sweated blood. Men said that Christ and His saints
slept. Yet, for their comfort, it was reported that the Lord was still
watchful, because, when Geoffrey lay down to rest in the shade, behold!
the grass withered away beneath him.
The end came. Happily before long Geoffrey was wounded fighting on the
land of the Abbey which he had robbed; he treated his wound lightly; he
rode off through Fordham to Mildenhall, and there he lay down and died.
He had been excommunicated: he died without absolution; there was no
priest among his wild soldiery, and men said openly that no one but the
Pope could absolve so great a sinner. His body, enclosed in a leaden
coffin, was brought to London by some Templars: they carried it to
their orchard in the old Temple (at the north-east corner of Chancery
Lane) and there hung it up, so that it should not pollute the ground.
And the citizens of London came out to gibe at their dead foe. After
twenty years Pope Alexander III. granted absolution, and the body of
the great traitor at last found rest. It may be remarked, as regards
the lasting hatred of the Londoners, that their enemy, whose unburied
body they thus insulted, was only justiciar over them for two years
or so. Great must have been his tyranny, many his iniquities, for his
memory to stink for more than twenty years.
We know very little of the condition of London at this time: its
trade, both export and import, must have been greatly damaged; when
the Empress made her demands for money, the citizens had to assure her
of their poverty and inability to comply with them; the fire of 1136,
which destroyed nearly the whole City, must have involved thousands in
ruin; there were factions and parties within the walls. At the same
time the City possessed men and arms. London, we have seen, could send
out a splendid regiment of a thousand men: not ragamuffins in leathern
doublets and armed with pikes, but men in full armour completely
equipped.
As regards the power of Geoffrey, it is certain that the free, proud,
and independent City, the maker of kings, the possessor of charters
which secured all that freemen could desire, must have been deeply
humiliated at its new position of dependence upon the caprice of a
soldier without honour and without loyalty: but it was only temporary.
And yet we find that the City was represented at the Convention of
Winchester. It is therefore certain that though London might be
stripped of its charters, it had to be reckoned with. At any moment
the citizens might close their gates, and then, even if the enemy
garrisoned the Tower, it was doubtful whether the whole force that
Matilda could command could compel the opening of their gates.
It will be shown immediately that part of Henry’s Charter, that of
the possession, at least, of a City justiciar, remained in force
during Stephen’s reign. It cannot be proved that the other part of
the Charter, which conferred upon the City the right of electing the
justiciar and the sheriffs, was also observed. Maitland says that in
the year 1139 the citizens bought the right of electing their sheriffs
for the sum of one hundred marks of silver. He gives no authority for
the statement, of which I find no mention in Stow, Holinshed, Round
or Sharpe. It would seem possible in this time of general confusion
and continual war for the right to be claimed and exercised without
question. It would also seem possible, for exactly the same cause, that
the King would sell the right, year by year, or for the whole of his
reign.
There is an episode passed over by historians which seems singularly
out of place in a time of continual civil war. It is strange that
in the year 1147, when all men’s minds in London were presumably
watching the uncertain way of war, there should be found citizens who
could neglect the anxieties of the time and go off crusading. This,
however, actually happened. A small army—say, rather, a reinforcement,
of Crusaders, consisting of Englishmen, Germans, and Flemings, sailed
in company, bound for Palestine. They were led by Count Arnold of
Aerschot, Christian Ghestell, Andrew of London, Vernon of Dover, and
Henry Glenville. They put in at Lisbon, and instead of fighting the
Saracens in Palestine, joined the Portuguese and fought the Moors at
Lisbon. By their aid the city was taken, lost, and retaken. Roger de
Hoveden thus comments on the expedition:—
“In the meantime a naval force, headed by no influential men, and
relying upon no mighty chieftain, but only on Almighty God, inasmuch
as it had set out in a humble spirit, earned the favour of God and
manifested great prowess. For, though but few in number, by arms they
obtained possession of a famous city of Spain, Lisbon by name, and
another, called Almeida, together with the parts adjacent. How true is
it that God opposes the proud, but to the humble shows grace! For the
army of the king of the Franks and of the emperor was larger and better
equipped than the former one, which had gained possession of Jerusalem:
and yet they were crushed by a very few, and routed and demolished
like webs of spiders: whereas these other poor people, whom I have
just mentioned, no multitude could resist, but the greater the numbers
that made head against them, the more helpless were they rendered. The
greatest part of them had come from England.”
At last, after nineteen years of fighting, peace was made. Stephen
was to reign as long as he lived: he was then to be succeeded by
Henry. Henry of Huntingdon does justice to the general rejoicing that
followed:—
“What boundless joy, what a day of rejoicing, when the king himself
led the illustrious young prince through the streets of Winchester,
with a splendid procession of bishops and nobles, and amidst the
acclamations of the thronging people: for the king received him as his
son by adoption, and acknowledged him heir to the crown. From thence
he accompanied the king to London, where he was received with no less
joy by the people assembled in countless numbers, and by brilliant
processions, as was fitting for so great a prince. Thus, through God’s
mercy, after a night of misery, peace dawned on the ruined realm of
England.”
FOOTNOTES:
[26] _Gesta Stephani._