LINCOLN
Lincoln is situated on the summit and side of a hill that slopes with a
deep descent to the margin of the river Witham, which here bends its
course eastward, and, being divided into three small channels, washes
the lower part of the city.
Viewed from the London road, on the south, in the month of May, the
aspect of Lincoln is particularly beautiful. Before you is the Witham’s
silver stream flowing on the east, the open country on the west, and in
front the ancient city itself stretching from the level ground up a
hill, studded with houses and embowered in trees, its eminence crowned
with the keep of the dilapidated castle, and the still magnificent
cathedral.
Far different, no doubt, was the appearance of Lincoln in the days when
the third Henry was king, and the great Earl of Pembroke protector. It
is difficult, indeed, mentally to annihilate the rich and varied scene
presented from the spot referred to, and to substitute the ancient
prospect in its stead. But if to the gazer’s view, “by some strange
parallax,” the mediæval Lincoln were suddenly presented, with its noble
castle and grand cathedral; its palace, its churches, and wealthy
religious house keeping the flames of piety and learning still burning;
its hospital for the sick, and its hospital for decayed priests; its
narrow streets, with their projecting houses, tenanted by burgher and
chapman; its Jewry, with its strange inhabitants with outlandish
garments and olive complexions, trembling for their lives during every
commotion, yet too covetous not to be cruel and harsh when Christians
were at their mercy in times of peace; its Roman arches, and its strong
walls, with gates, and towers, and turrets--all unlike as such a scene
might be to the present, save in its hill, and vale, and silvery stream,
he would still confess that it was more picturesque and not less fair
than that which now lies so beautiful before the arrested eye.
From an historical point of view, Lincoln is one of the most interesting
of English cities. It still boasts monuments of its importance when
England was Britain, and when Britain was in the hands of the Romans;
and at the time of the Norman Conquest, when six centuries had rolled
over, it was one of the richest and most populous places in the kingdom.
Moreover, the citizens were chiefly men of Danish origin, and therefore
to be dreaded; and the Conqueror, on taking Lincoln, resolved to build a
strong castle, not only to keep the inhabitants in awe, but to guard
against any attempt made by them, in concert with their kinsmen the
Danish sea-kings, to throw off the Norman yoke; and having demolished
about two hundred and seventy houses to make room for the edifice, the
Conqueror crowned the hill with a stronghold, which frowned sullen on
the city over which it looked, and awed all malcontents, whether Dane or
Saxon. The Empress Maude added to the fortifications while struggling
with Stephen; and Lincoln was the scene of important events and a great
battle during that war which, after tearing England to pieces, resulted
in the peaceful accession of Henry Plantagenet.
But Lincoln, as time passed over, was exposed to other horrors than
those of war. In 1180, an earthquake shook the city to its foundations,
and almost rent the cathedral in twain. But the citizens repaired their
dwellings, and Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln--since celebrated in history as
St. Hugh of Burgundy--rebuilt the cathedral and restored all its former
splendour.
Before the era of the Great Charter, however, Bishop Hugh had been
carried to his last resting-place on the shoulders of King John and the
two sub-kings of Scotland and Wales, and the place which he had filled
with so much honour was occupied by Henry Welles, a prelate who
resolutely espoused the cause of the Anglo-Norman barons and their “good
Lord Louis.” Nevertheless, the royal cause was well supported in
Lincoln, and its adherents were headed by a dame somewhat like the
widowed Countess Albemarle, whom the chronicler describes as “a woman
almost a man, being deficient in nothing masculine but manhood.”
It seems that, in the reign of Richard Cœur-de-Lion, Gerard de
Camville held the castle of Lincoln, “the custody whereof was known to
belong to the inheritance of Nichola, the wife of the same Gerard, but
under the king.” However, when Richard was absent in the East, on his
way to the Holy Land, and when a feud broke out between Prince John and
the Bishop of Ely, who was chancellor and regent of the kingdom, Gerard
took part with John, and, in his absence, the castle of Lincoln was
besieged by the chancellor-bishop. “But,” says the chronicler, “Nichola,
proposing to herself nothing effeminate, defended the castle like a
man.” In fact, she held out till the siege was raised.
Nichola de Camville was now a widow, and could not have been young. But
neither her courage nor her energy had departed; and though Gilbert de
Gant, whom Prince Louis had rewarded with an earldom before he
conquered, had been exerting himself strenuously to take Lincoln, his
efforts had been in vain; the royal standard still waved over the town
and castle when the Count de Perche and Robert Fitzwalter brought their
army to the besiegers’ aid.
The arrival of a force so formidable, however, soon changed the face of
matters, and the town surrendered. But the castle showed no signs of
being likely to yield; and De Perche and his Anglo-Norman allies were
fain to commence a very systematic siege, bringing into play their
engines of war, battering the walls with huge stones, and hurling other
missiles against the garrison. However, they had great confidence in
their numbers and in their warlike engines; and they were pressing the
siege on the morning of Saturday, the 20th of May, with high hopes of a
speedy success, when informed by their scouts that the English were
approaching in hostile array with banners displayed.
The Count de Perche at first treated the intelligence with something
like indifference, and continued to direct the soldiers, who were
hurling missiles from the “mangonels” to destroy the walls of the
castle. But Robert Fitzwalter and the Earl of Winchester did not take
the matter so coolly. Mounting their horses forthwith, the two barons
rode out to survey Pembroke’s army, and returned somewhat flurried,
elate with the idea of their own superiority as regarded numbers.
“Our enemies come against us in good order,” said they to De Perche,
“but we are much more numerous than they are; therefore our advice is to
sally forth to the ascent of the hill and meet them, for if we do so we
shall catch them like larks.”
It appears to have been sound advice, and such as the count ought to
have adopted, for his superiority in cavalry would have given him a
great advantage in the country; but the very fact of its coming from
Fitzwalter and Winchester made it distasteful to the French.
“No,” replied De Perche, who, like all Prince Louis’s captains, treated
his Anglo-Norman allies cavalierly; “you have reckoned them according to
your own judgment and given your opinion; but I must go forth and count
them in the French fashion. Besides, I hardly deem the English would be
mad enough to attack us in a walled town.”
“No more than stags would dream of attacking lions,” added the Marshal
of France, jeeringly.
“Their fate would be sealed,” said the Castellan of Arras.
However, that they might judge for themselves as to the extent of the
danger to which they were exposed, the count and his French knights and
the marshal and the castellan rode forth and surveyed Pembroke’s army as
horsemen and footmen came dauntlessly on, the sun shining on their
weapons and their armour. Indeed, the spectacle was not calculated to
increase De Perche’s confidence of conquering. Mistaking the baggage and
the standards carried by the men who guarded it for a second army, he
formed a very erroneous notion of the numbers coming against him, and
spurred back to the city a sadder if not a wiser man than he had left
it.
And now the French and Anglo-Normans held a hurried council of war, and
it was proposed to divide their forces, so that while one party was
defending the gates and walls to prevent the English entering the city,
the other party should continue to besiege the castle and keep the
garrison in check. The count’s friends took different views as to the
policy of such a course. Some approved of the plan; others condemned it
as not suited to the emergency. But there was no time left for argument,
and the proposal was hastily adopted as the best thing that could be
done under the circumstances.
And having in this manner decided on the course to be followed, the
leaders repaired each to the post assigned to him and prepared for
action--one party to guard the gates and walls, the other to direct
their efforts against the castle. But scarcely had they taken their
places and encouraged their men by word and gesture to do their duty
boldly, when both from French and Anglo-Normans rose a loud yell,
followed by a long wail, as of men in mortal agony, and ere this died
away Pembroke’s trumpets were sounding and his men were thundering at
the gates, and the conflict which was to render that May Saturday
memorable had begun in earnest, the fate of England trembling in the
balance.