REIGN OF HENRY I.
[Sidenote: A.D. 1100.]
Henry, the youngest son of the Conqueror, was hunting at the same time
and in the same forest in which his brother met his fate. He was not
long before he came to a resolution of seizing on the vacant crown. The
order of succession had already been broken; the absence of Duke Robert,
and the concurrence of many circumstances altogether resembling those
which had been so favorable to the late monarch, incited him to a
similar attempt. To lose no time at a juncture when the use of a moment
is often decisive, he went directly to Winchester, where the regalia and
the treasures of the crown were deposited. But the governor, a man of
resolution, and firmly attached to Robert, positively refused to deliver
them. Henry, conscious that great enterprises are not to be conducted in
a middle course, prepared to reduce him by force of arms. During this
contest, the news of the king's death, and the attempts of Henry, drew
great numbers of the nobility to Winchester, and with them a vast
concourse of the inferior people. To the nobility he set forth his
title to the crown in the most plausible manner it could bear: he
alleged that he was born after his father had acquired his kingdom, and
that he was therefore natural heir of the crown; but that his brother
was, at best, only born to the inheritance of a dukedom. The nobility
heard the claim of this prince; but they were more generally inclined to
Robert, whose birthright, less questionable in itself, had been also
confirmed by a solemn treaty. But whilst they retired to consult, Henry,
well apprised of their dispositions, and who therefore was little
inclined to wait the result of their debates, threw himself entirely
upon the populace. To them he said little concerning his title, as he
knew such an audience is little moved with a discussion of rights, but
much with the spirit and manner in which they are claimed; for which
reason he began by drawing his sword, and swearing, with a bold and
determined air, to persist in his pretensions to his last breath. Then
turning to the crowd, and remitting of his severity, he began to soothe
them with the promises of a milder government than they had experienced
either beneath his brother or his father; the Church should enjoy her
immunities, the people their liberties, the nobles their pleasures; the
forest laws should cease; the distinction of Englishman and Norman be
heard no more. Next he expatiated on the grievances of the former
reigns, and promised to redress them all. Lastly, he spoke of his
brother Robert, whose dissoluteness, whose inactivity, whose unsteady
temper, nay, whose very virtues, threatened nothing but ruin to any
country which he should govern. The people received this popular
harangue, delivered by a prince whose person was full of grace and
majesty, with shouts of joy and rapture. Immediately they rush to the
house where the council is held, which they surround, and with clamor
and menaces demand Henry for their king. The nobility were terrified by
the sedition; and remembering how little present Robert had been on a
former occasion to his own interests, or to those who defended him, they
joined their voice to that of the people, and Henry was proclaimed
without opposition. The treasure which he seized he divided amongst
those that seemed wavering in his cause; and that he might secure his
new and disputed right by every method, he proceeded without delay to
London to be crowned, and to sanctify by the solemnity of the unction
the choice of the people. As the churchmen in those days were the
arbiters of everything, and as no churchman possessed more credit than
Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, who had been persecuted and banished
by his brother, he recalled that prelate, and by every mark of
confidence confirmed him in his interests. Two other steps he took,
equally prudent and politic: he confirmed and enlarged the privileges of
the city of London, and gave to the whole kingdom a charter of
liberties, which was the first of the kind, and laid the foundation of
those successive charters which at last completed the freedom of the
subject. In fine, he cemented the whole fabric of his power by marrying
Maud, daughter of Malcolm, King of Scotland, by the sister of Edgar
Atheling,--thus to insure the affection, of the English, and, as he
flattered himself, to have a sure succession to his children.
[Sidenote: A.D. 1101.]
The Crusade being successfully finished by the taking of Jerusalem,
Robert returned into Europe. He had acquired great reputation in that
war, in which he had no interest; his real and valuable rights he
prosecuted with languor. Yet such was the respect paid to his title, and
such the attraction of his personal accomplishments, that, when he had
at last taken possession of his Norman territories, and entered England
with an army to assert his birthright, he found most of the Norman
barons, and many of the English, in readiness to join him. But the
diligence of Anselm, who employed all his credit to keep the people firm
to the oath they had taken, prevented him from profiting of the general
inclination in his favor. His friends began to fall off by degrees, so
that he was induced, as well by the situation of his affairs as the
flexibility of his temper, to submit to a treaty on the plan of that he
had formerly entered into with his brother Rufus.
[Sidenote: A.D. 1103.]
[Sidenote: A.D. 1106.]
This treaty being made, Robert returned to his dukedom, and gave himself
over to his natural indolence and dissipation. Uncured by his
misfortunes of a loose generosity that flowed indiscriminately on all,
he mortgaged every branch of his revenue, and almost his whole domain.
His barons, despising his indigence, and secure in the benignity of his
temper, began to assume the unhappy privilege of sovereigns. They made
war on each other at pleasure, and, pursuing their hostilities with the
most scandalous license, they reduced that fine country to a deplorable
condition. In vain did the people, ruined by the tyranny and divisions
of the great, apply to Robert for protection: neither from his
circumstances nor his character was he able to afford them any effectual
relief; whilst Henry, who by his bribes and artifices kept alive the
disorder of which he complained and profited, formed a party in Normandy
to call him over, and to put the dukedom under his protection.
Accordingly, he prepared a considerable force for the expedition, and
taxed his own subjects, arbitrarily, and without mercy, for the relief
he pretended to afford those of his brother. His preparations roused
Robert from his indolence, and united likewise the greater part of his
barons to his cause, unwilling to change a master whose only fault was
his indulgence of them for the severe vigilance of Henry. The King of
France espoused the same side; and even in England some emotions were
excited in favor of the Duke by indignation for the wrongs he had
suffered and those he was going to suffer. Henry was alarmed, but did
not renounce his design. He was to the last degree jealous of his
prerogative; but knowing what immense resources kings may have in
popularity, he called on this occasion a great council of his barons and
prelates, and there, by his arts and his eloquence, in both which he was
powerful, he persuaded the assembly to a hearty declaration in his
favor, and to a large supply. Thus secured at home, he lost no time to
pass over to the continent, and to bring the Norman army to a speedy
engagement. They fought under the walls of Tinchebrai, where the bravery
and military genius of Robert, never more conspicuous than on that day,
were borne down by the superior fortune and numbers of his ambitious
brother. He was made prisoner; and notwithstanding all the tender pleas
of their common blood, in spite of his virtues, and even of his
misfortunes, which pleaded so strongly for mercy, the rigid conqueror
held him in various prisons until his death, which did not happen until
after a rigorous confinement of eighteen, some say twenty-seven, years.
This was the end of a prince born with a thousand excellent qualities,
which served no other purpose than to confirm, from the example of his
misfortunes, that a facility of disposition and a weak beneficence are
the greatest vices that can enter into the composition of a monarch,
equally ruinous to himself and to his subjects.
[Sidenote: A.D. 1107.]
[Sidenote: A.D. 1108.]
The success of this battle put Henry in possession of Normandy, which he
held ever after with very little disturbance. He fortified his new
acquisition by demolishing the castles of those turbulent barons who had
wasted and afterwards enslaved their country by their dissensions. Order
and justice took place, until everything was reduced to obedience; then
a severe and regular oppression succeeded the former disorderly tyranny.
In England things took the same course. The king no longer doubted his
fortune, and therefore no longer respected his promises or his charter.
The forests, the savage passion of the Norman princes, for which both
the prince and people paid so dearly, were maintained, increased, and
guarded with laws more rigorous than before. Taxes were largely and
arbitrarily assessed. But all this tyranny did not weaken, though it
vexed the nation, because the great men were kept in proper subjection,
and justice was steadily administered.
The politics of this remarkable reign consisted of three branches: to
redress the gross abuses which prevailed in the civil government and the
revenue, to humble the great barons, and keep the aspiring spirit of
the clergy within proper bounds. The introduction of a new law with a
new people at the Conquest had unsettled everything: for whilst some
adhered to the Conqueror's regulations, and others contended for those
of St. Edward, neither of them were well executed or properly obeyed.
The king, therefore, with the assistance of his justiciaries, compiled a
new body of laws, in order to find a temper between both. The coin had
been miserably debased, but it was restored by the king's vigilance, and
preserved by punishments, cruel, but terrifying in their example. There
was a savageness in all the judicial proceedings of those days, that
gave even justice itself the complexion of tyranny: for whilst a number
of men were seen in all parts of the kingdom, some castrated, some
without hands, others with their feet cut off, and in various ways
cruelly mangled, the view of a perpetual punishment blotted out the
memory of the transient crime, and government was the more odious,
which, out of a cruel and mistaken mercy, to avoid punishing with death,
devised torments far more terrible than death itself.
But nothing called for redress more than the disorders in the king's own
household. It was considered as an incident annexed to their tenure,
that the socage vassals of the crown, and so of all the subordinate
barons, should receive their lord and all his followers, and supply them
in their progresses and journeys, which custom continued for some ages
after in Ireland, under the name of _coshering_. But this indefinite and
ill-contrived charge on the tenant was easily perverted to an instrument
of much oppression by the disorders of a rude and licentious court;
insomuch that the tenants, in fear for their substance, for the honor
of their women, and often for their lives, deserted their habitations
and fled into the woods on the king's approach. No circumstance could be
more dishonorable to a prince; but happily, like many other great
abuses, it gave rise to a great reform, which went much further than its
immediate purposes. This disorder, which the punishment of offenders
could only palliate, was entirely taken away by commuting personal
service for a rent in money; which regulation, passing from the king to
all the inferior lords, in a short time wrought a great change in the
state of the nation. To humble the great men, more arbitrary methods
were used. The adherence to the title of Robert was a cause, or a
pretence, of depriving many of their vast possessions, which were split
or parcelled out amongst the king's creatures, with great injustice to
particulars, but in the consequences with general and lasting benefit.
The king held his courts, according to the custom, at Christmas and
Easter, but he seldom kept both festivals in the same place. He made
continual progresses into all parts of his kingdom, and brought the
royal authority and person home to the doors of his haughty barons,
which kept them in strict obedience during his long and severe reign.
His contests with the Church, concerning the right of investiture, were
more obstinate and more dangerous. As this is an affair that troubled
all Europe as well as England, and holds deservedly a principal place in
the story of those times, it will not be impertinent to trace it up to
its original. In the early times of Christianity, when religion was only
drawn from its obscurity to be persecuted, when a bishop was only a
candidate for martyrdom, neither the preferment, nor the right of
bestowing it, were sought with great ambition. Bishops were then
elected, and often against their desire, by their clergy and the people:
the subordinate ecclesiastical districts were provided for in the same
manner. After the Roman Empire became Christian, this usage, so
generally established, still maintained its ground. However, in the
principal cities, the Emperor frequently exercised the privilege of
giving a sanction to the choice, and sometimes of appointing the bishop;
though, for the most part, the popular election still prevailed. But
when, the Barbarians, after destroying the Empire, had at length
submitted their necks to the Gospel, their kings and great men, full of
zeal and gratitude to their instructors, endowed the Church with large
territories and great privileges. In this case it was but natural that
they should be the patrons of those dignities and nominate to that power
which arose from their own free bounty. Hence the bishoprics in the
greatest part of Europe became in effect, whatever some few might have
been in appearance, merely donative. And as the bishoprics formed so
many seigniories, when the feudal establishment was completed, they
partook of the feudal nature, so far as they were subjects capable of
it; homage and fealty were required on the part of the spiritual vassal;
the king, on his part, gave the bishop the investiture, or livery and
seizin of his temporalities, by the delivery of a ring and staff. This
was the original manner of granting feudal property, and something like
it is still practised in our base-courts. Pope Adrian confirmed this
privilege to Charlemagne by an express grant. The clergy of that time,
ignorant, but inquisitive, were very ready at finding types and
mysteries in every ceremony: they construed the staff into an emblem of
the pastoral care, and the ring into a type of the bishop's allegorical
marriage to his church, and therefore supposed them designed as emblems
of a jurisdiction merely spiritual. The Papal pretensions increased with
the general ignorance and superstition; and the better to support these
pretensions, it was necessary at once to exalt the clergy extremely,
and, by breaking off all ties between them and their natural sovereigns,
to attach them wholly to the Roman see. In pursuance of this project,
the Pope first strictly forbade the clergy to receive investitures from
laymen, or to do them homage. A council held at Rome entirely condemned
this practice; and the condemnation was the less unpopular, because the
investiture gave rise to frequent and flagrant abuses, especially in
England, where the sees were on this pretence with much scandal long
held in the king's hands, and afterwards as scandalously and publicly
sold to the highest bidder. So it had been in the last reign, and so it
continued in this.
Henry, though vigorously attacked, with great resolution maintained the
rights of his crown with regard to investitures, whilst he saw the
Emperor, who claimed a right of investing the Pope himself, subdued by
the thunder of the Vatican. His chief opposition was within his own
kingdom. Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, a man of unblamable life, and
of learning for his time, but blindly attached to the rights of the
Church, real or supposed, refused to consecrate those who received
investitures from the king. The parties appealed to Rome. Rome,
unwilling either to recede from her pretensions or to provoke a powerful
monarch, gives a dubious answer. Meanwhile the contest grows hotter.
Anselm is obliged to quit the kingdom, but is still inflexible. At last,
the king, who, from the delicate situation of his affairs in the
beginning of his reign, had been obliged to temporize for a long time,
by his usual prudent mixture of management with force obliged the Pope
to a temperament which seemed extremely judicious. The king received
homage and fealty from his vassal; the investiture, as it was generally
understood to relate to spiritual jurisdiction, was given up, and on
this equal bottom peace was established. The secret of the Pope's
moderation was this: he was at that juncture close pressed by the
Emperor, and it might be highly dangerous to contend with two such
enemies at once; and he was much more ready to yield to Henry, who had
no reciprocal demands on him, than to the Emperor, who had many and just
ones, and to whom he could not yield any one point without giving up an
infinite number of others very material and interesting.
[Sidenote: A.D. 1120.]
[Sidenote: A.D. 1127.]
As the king extricated himself happily from so great an affair, so all
the other difficulties of his reign only exercised, without endangering
him. The efforts of France in favor of the son of Robert were late,
desultory, and therefore unsuccessful. That youth, endued with equal
virtue and more prudence than his father, after exerting many useless
acts of unfortunate bravery, fell in battle, and freed Henry from all
disturbance on the side of France. The incursions of the Welsh in this
reign only gave him an opportunity of confining that people within
narrower bounds. At home he was well obeyed by his subjects; abroad he
dignified his family by splendid alliances. His daughter Matilda he
married to the Emperor. But his private fortunes did not flow with so
even a course as his public affairs. His only son, William, with a
natural daughter, and many of the flower of the young nobility, perished
at sea between Normandy and England. From that fatal accident the king
was never seen to smile. He sought in vain from a second marriage to
provide a male successor; but when he saw all prospect of this at an
end, he called a great council of his barons and prelates. His daughter
Matilda, after the decease of the Emperor, he had given in marriage to
Geoffrey Plantagenet, Count of Anjou. As she was his only remaining
issue, he caused her to be acknowledged as his successor by the great
council; he enforced this acknowledgment by solemn oaths of fealty,--a
sanction which he weakened rather than confirmed by frequent repetition:
vainly imagining that on his death any ties would bind to the respect of
a succession so little respected by himself, and by the violation of
which he had procured his crown. Having taken these measures in favor of
his daughter, he died in Normandy, but in a good old age, and in the
thirty-sixth year of a prosperous reign.