In his thirtieth year, king Henry went into Normandy. Pope Honorius

dying in this year, the church of Rome was agitated by great

contentions about electing his successor. There were, at that time,

in the city, two very celebrated cardinals, Gregory, deacon of St.

Angelo, and Peter, cardinal-priest, son of Leo, prince of the Romans;

both noted for learning, and activity, nor could the people easily

discern which of them more justly ought to be elected by the clergy.

The party, however, which favoured Gregory took the lead, and ordaining

him pope, called him Innocent. Moreover a rumour was disseminated among

the people, that Honorius was still just alive, and had commanded this

to be done. The promoters of this choice were, William, bishop of

Præneste, Matthew of Albano, Conrad of Sabina, John of Ostia, Peter of

Crema, cardinal of St. Chrysogonus, and Haimer the chancellor. But the

other party, after Honorius was buried, at the instigation of Peter’s

brothers, who were the most opulent and powerful of the Romans, having

elected and consecrated him, gave him the name of Anaclet. The chief

adviser and instigator to this ordination was Peter, bishop of Porto,

whose letter, if I subjoin it, will disclose the whole controversy;

although it inclines rather to Anaclet.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1130.] OF THE POPE’S ELECTION.]

“Peter, bishop of Porto, to the four bishops, William of Præneste,

Matthew of Albano, Conrad of Sabina, John of Ostia. How great is the

tribulation of my heart for you, he only knows, who knows all things;

indeed, you would have already been acquainted with it, in part, by my

letters, did not the sentence and the common authority of the church

prohibit. Of the praise or dispraise of those persons, concerning whom

various discourses are at present held, it is not of this world to

judge: there is who may seek and judge. But if any be ready to accuse,

one will be ready, and who is also bound, to reply; more especially

when both in your and my sight, and in that of the whole church, each

of them has lived discreetly and honestly; and has hitherto executed

his office impartially. It rather concerns you to abstain from idle

language and the words of haste. If the question be of report, the

business is far different from what your letters to me declare. In

addition to this, if you regard the accounts you have published, and

the order of proceeding, with due reverence be it spoken, by what

boldness, by what assurance, do you presume to call that usurpation of

yours an election? Why do you call that man of yours ordained, when

there was no order whatever in his case? Have you so learned to elect

a pope? What, in a corner, in a hidden place, in darkness, and in the

shadow of death? If you were desirous that a living should succeed to

a dead pope, why would you give out that the deceased was still alive?

It were much better, surely, to pay the last sad offices to the dead,

and in this manner provide for the succour of the living: but, behold,

while you seek succour for the living from the dead, you destroy both

the living and the dead at the same time. Lastly, it was neither your

office nor mine to elect; but rather to refuse, or to approve, when

elected by the brethren. Since, therefore, in neglect of the ritual,

contempt of the canon, and disregard of the very anathema, framed

by yourselves; without consulting me, your superior, or your elder

brethren and superiors, or even summoning, or waiting for them; when

you were inexperienced, and but very few in number, you have presumed

to do this; you must be sensible, from your own estimation of the case,

that it must be considered void and of no avail whatever. The Lord,

however, was quickly present to us, and pointed out a method whereby

to obviate your error. For, indeed, your brethren the cardinals, who

possess the chief power of electing, together with the whole clergy,

at the request of the people, and with the consent of the nobility,

openly, in the light of day, have unanimously, and heartily, elected

the noble cardinal Peter, as Roman pontiff, by the title of Anaclet.

I have witnessed this election canonically celebrated; and confirmed

it by the authority of God. The church accepts and venerates him; and,

by the grace of God, the bishops and abbats, chief princes and barons,

some by themselves, and others by their delegates, acknowledge him in

our presence. The robbery and cruelty you mention, I do not perceive:

whoever goes to him for consultation, or on business, is kindly

received, and still more kindly dismissed. Return, then, return to your

understanding, do not make a schism in the church, to the perdition of

souls: do not persist any farther; let the fear of God possess you,

not worldly shame: does any sleep, will he not add, that he must rise

again? Cease now from lies, in which the wicked put their hope. The

lord Tiburtius hath testified by oath, in writing, that I have deemed

the deacon of St. Angelo, the only fit person for the office of pope:

let him look to what he hath said: I have spoken nothing in secret; no

person hath ever heard such a word as this from my mouth. My opinion

always was, that till the pope was buried no mention should be made of

his successor. I have held, and will hold, the unity of the church; I

will be careful to adhere to truth and justice; confidently hoping,

that truth and justice will set me free.”

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1131.] DEATH OF ANACLET.]

After this manner wrote the aforesaid Peter, bishop of Porto, rather

partial to Peter, the son of Leo. Nor did the other party at all give

way; but called Peter himself a lion’s whelp,[540] and his partizans,

the leaders of a faction. And they, indeed, acted variously among

themselves, under these doubtful circumstances. Innocent, however,

excluded from Rome, passed the Alps and went into France. Here he was

immediately received by all the churches on this side the mountains;

and moreover, even king Henry, who did not very well know how to be

driven from an opinion he had once taken up, willingly acknowledged

him at Chartres; and, at Rouen, condescended to honour him, not only

with presents from himself, but also from the nobility, and even the

Jews. Yet Innocent, though greatly assisted by the kings of England and

France, and the emperor of Germany, could never enjoy peace so long as

Anaclet occupied the see of Rome. However, Anaclet himself dying in the

eighth year of his usurped papacy, as it was called, Innocent enjoys

the papal dignity unmolested to the present time.[541]

In the thirty-first year of his reign, king Henry returned to England.

The empress, too, in the same year, arrived on her native soil, and a

full meeting of the nobility being held at Northampton, the oath of

fidelity to her was renewed by such as had already sworn, and also

taken by such as hitherto had not. In the same year[542] Lewis, king

of France, growing aged and unwieldy through extreme corpulency,

commanded his son to be crowned as successor to the kingdom; who dying

soon after by the fall of his horse, he caused another of his sons to

be consecrated king, by the hands of the Roman pontiff. He, as they

relate, not degenerating from the ancient valour of the French, hath

also acquired Aquitain, as the marriage portion of his wife, which, it

is well known, the kings of France have never held in their own right

since Lewis, son of Charles the Great.

In the thirty-first[543] [second] year of king Henry, a dreadful

murrain among domestic animals extended over the whole of England.

Entire herds of swine suddenly perished; whole stalls of oxen were

swept off in a moment: the same contagion continued in the following

years, so that no village throughout the kingdom was free from this

calamity, or able to exult at the losses of its neighbours. At this

time, too, the contention between Bernard, bishop of St. David’s, and

Urban, of Landaff, on the rights of their dioceses, which Urban had

illegally usurped, was finally put to rest. For, after being agitated

by so many appeals to the court of Rome, so many expensive journeys,

so many debates of lawyers, for a number of years, it was at last

terminated, or rather cut short, by the death of Urban at Rome. The

pope also, weighing the equity of the case, did justice to the piety

and right of the bishop of St. David’s by a suitable judgment. In the

same year William, archbishop of Canterbury, personally obtained the

legation of England, through the indulgence of the see of Rome.

The day after the thirty-second[544] year of his reign was completed,

Henry, on the nones of August, the very day on which he had formerly

been crowned at Westminster, set sail for Normandy. This was the last,

the fatal voyage of his reign. The providence of God, at that time,

bore reference in a wonderful manner to human affairs: for instance,

that he should embark, never to return alive, on that day on which he

had originally been crowned, so long and prosperously to reign. It was

then, as I have said, the nones of August; and, on the fourth day of

the week, the elements manifested their sorrow at this great man’s last

departure. For the sun on that day,[545] at the sixth hour, shrouded

his glorious face, as the poets say, in hideous darkness, agitating the

hearts of men by an eclipse: and on the sixth day of the week, early in

the morning, there was so great an earthquake, that the ground appeared

absolutely to sink down; a horrid sound being first heard from beneath

the surface. During the eclipse I saw stars around the sun: and, at the

time of the earthquake, the wall of the house in which I was sitting

was lifted up by two shocks, and settled again with a third. The king,

therefore, continued in Normandy for the space of three[546] whole

years, and so much longer, as from the nones of August, on which day,

as has been said, he crossed the sea, to the kalends of December, on

which night he died. Doubtlessly he performed many things worthy of

record while in Normandy, but it was my design to omit whatever did not

come authenticated to my knowledge. Divers expectations of his return

to England were all frustrated, by some adverse fate, or by the will of

God.

He reigned, then, thirty-five years, and from the nones of August to

the kalends of December, that is, four months, wanting four days.

Engaged in hunting at Lihun, he was taken suddenly ill. His malady

increasing, he summoned to him, Hugo, whom, from prior of Lewes, he

had made abbat of Reading, and afterwards archbishop of Rouen, who was

justly indebted to him and his heirs for such great favours. The report

of his sickness quickly gathered the nobility around him. Robert, too,

his son, the earl of Gloucester, was present; who, from his unblemished

fidelity and matchless virtue, has deserved to be especially signalized

throughout all ages. Being interrogated by these persons, as to his

successor, he awarded all his territories, on either side of the sea,

to his daughter, in legitimate and perpetual succession; being somewhat

displeased with her husband, as he had irritated him both by threats

and by certain injuries. Having passed the seventh day of his sickness,

he yielded to nature about midnight. I waive describing his magnanimous

character in this place, as I have been diffuse upon it in the fifth

book of my Regal History. In how Christian a manner he departed, the

following epistle of the aforesaid archbishop of Rouen, will testify.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1093.] DEATH OF HENRY I.]

“To his lord and father, pope Innocent, due obedience from his

servant, Hugo, priest of Rouen. I have deemed it proper to write to

your fatherly affection concerning the king my master, never to be

remembered but with grief: for, being seized with sudden sickness, he

wished for me to console his sufferings, and sent messengers as soon

as possible for that purpose. I went, and passed three melancholy days

with him. Agreeably to my suggestion, he confessed his sins, he beat

his breast, and he laid aside all his animosities. Through the grace

of God, and through our advice and that of the bishops, he promised

to attend to the amendment of his life. Under this promise, according

to our office, on the third day, and three days successively, we gave

him absolution. He devoutly adored the cross of our Lord, received his

body and blood; bestowed his alms thus; saying, ‘Let my debts be paid,

let the wages[547] and stipends which I owe be discharged, let the

remainder be distributed to the poor.’ I wish they who held, and do

hold, his treasures had done thus. At last I earnestly stated to him

our duty concerning the unction of the sick, which the church adopted

from the apostle St. James, and, at his own devout request, I anointed

him with holy oil. Thus he rested in peace; and may God grant him the

peace he loved.” These circumstances relating to the faith of king

Henry when dying, were truly attested by the aforesaid archbishop of

Rouen.

The body, royally attended and borne by the nobility in turn, was

brought to Rouen; where, in a certain retired part of the principal

church, it was embowelled, lest, through time, becoming putrid, it

should offend the senses of those who approached it. The intestines

were buried in the monastery of St. Mary des Prees, near the city,

which, as I hear, he had honoured with no mean presents, as it

had been begun by his mother. His body was kept at Caen, till the

season, which was then very boisterous, became more tranquil. In

the meantime, Stephen earl of Moreton and Boulogne, nephew of king

Henry, as I have before said, who, after the king of Scotland, was

the first layman that had sworn fidelity to the empress, hastened his

return into England by Whitsand. The empress, from certain causes, as

well as her brother, Robert earl of Gloucester, and almost all the

nobility, delayed returning to the kingdom. However, some castles in

Normandy, the principal of which was Danfrunt, espoused the party of

the heiress. Moreover, it is well known, that, on the day on which

Stephen disembarked in England, there was, very early in the morning,

contrary to the nature of winter in these countries, a terrible peal

of thunder, with most dreadful lightning, so that the world seemed

well-nigh about to be dissolved. He was received, however, as king,

by the people of London and of Winchester, and gained over also Roger

bishop of Salisbury, and William Pont de L’Arche, the keepers of the

royal treasures. Yet, not to conceal the truth from posterity, all

his attempts would have been vain, had not his brother, Henry bishop

of Winchester, who is now legate of the papal see in England, granted

him his entire support: allured indeed by the fullest expectation that

Stephen would follow the example of his grandfather William in the

management of the kingdom, and more especially in the strictness of

ecclesiastical discipline. In consequence, when Stephen was bound by

the rigorous oath which William archbishop of Canterbury required from

him, concerning restoring and preserving the liberty of the church, the

bishop of Winchester became his pledge and surety. The written tenor of

this oath, I shall be careful hereafter to insert in its proper place.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1135.] STEPHEN, KING OF ENGLAND.]

Stephen, therefore, was crowned king of England on Sunday the

eleventh[548] before the kalends of January, the twenty-second day

after the decease of his uncle, anno Dom. 1135, in the presence of

three bishops, that is, the archbishop, and those of Winchester and

Salisbury; but there were no abbats, and scarcely any of the nobility.

He was a man of activity, but imprudent: strenuous in war; of great

mind in attempting works of difficulty; mild and compassionate to his

enemies, and affable to all. Kind, as far as promise went; but sure

to disappoint in its truth and execution. Whence he soon afterwards

neglected the advice of his brother, befriended by whose assistance, as

I have said, he had supplanted his adversaries and obtained the kingdom.

In the year of our Lord 1135, on the prevalence of gentler gales, the

body of king Henry was, immediately after Christmas, put on ship-board,

and brought to England; and, in the presence of his successor in the

kingdom, was buried at the monastery of Reading, which he had liberally

endowed, and filled with an order of monks of singular piety. Shortly

after, a little before Lent, king Stephen went into Northumberland,

that he might have a conference with David king of Scotland, who

was said to entertain hostile sentiments towards him. From David he

readily obtained what he wished; because, being softened by the natural

gentleness of his manners, or by the approach of old age, he willingly

embraced the tranquillity of peace, real or pretended.

In the same year, after Easter, Robert earl of Gloucester, of whose

prudence Stephen chiefly stood in awe, came to England. While he was

yet resident in Normandy, he had most earnestly considered, what line

of conduct he should determine upon in the present state of affairs.

If he became subject to Stephen, it seemed contrary to the oath he had

sworn to his sister; if he opposed him, he saw that he could nothing

benefit her or his nephews, though he must grievously injure himself.

For the king, as I said before, had an immense treasure, which his

uncle had been accumulating for many years. His coin, and that of the

best quality,[549] was estimated at a hundred thousand pounds; besides

which, there were vessels of gold and silver, of great weight, and

inestimable value, collected by the magnificence of preceding kings,

and chiefly by Henry.[550] A man possessed of such boundless treasures,

could not want supporters, more especially as he was profuse, and, what

by no means becomes a prince, even prodigal. Soldiers of all kinds, and

light-armed troops, were flocking to him, chiefly from Flanders and

Brittany. These were a most rapacious and violent race of men; who made

no scruple to violate church-yards,[551] or rob a church. Moreover, not

only would they drag men of the religious order from their horses, but

also make them captive: and this was done not merely by foreigners, but

even by the native soldiers, who had abhorred the tranquillity of king

Henry’s time, because it subjected them to a life of poverty. All these

most readily resorted to the prince whom they could easily incline to

their purposes, pushing their fortune at the expense of the people.

Stephen, indeed, before he came to the throne, from his complacency

of manners, and readiness to joke, and sit, and regale, even with

low people, had gained so much on their affections, as is hardly to

be conceived: and already had all the nobility of England willingly

acknowledged him. The most prudent earl therefore was extremely

desirous to convince them of their misconduct, and recall them to

wiser sentiments by his presence; for, to oppose Stephen’s power, he

was unable, from the causes aforesaid: indeed he had not the liberty

of coming to England, unless, appearing as a partaker of their revolt,

he dissembled for a time his secret intentions. He did homage to the

king, therefore, under a certain condition; namely, so long as he

should preserve his rank entire, and maintain his engagements to him;

for having long since scrutinized Stephen’s disposition, he foresaw the

instability of his faith.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1135.] KING STEPHEN’S CHARTER.]

In the same year, soon after the earl’s arrival, the bishops swore

fidelity to the king, “so long as he should maintain the liberty of

the church, and the vigour of its discipline.” He himself also swore

according to the tenor of the following instrument.

“I Stephen, by the grace of God, elected king of England by the consent

of the clergy and of the people, and consecrated by the lord William,

archbishop of Canterbury and legate of the holy Roman church, and

afterwards confirmed by Innocent, pope of the holy Roman see, through

respect and love towards God, do grant the holy church to be free,

and confirm to it all due reverence. I promise that I will neither do

any thing simoniacally, nor permit it to be done, in the church, or

in matters ecclesiastical. The jurisdiction and power over beneficed

clergy, and over all persons in orders, and their property, and the

distribution of effects of ecclesiastics, I admit to be in the hands

of the bishops, and confirm it so to be. I grant and appoint, that the

immunities of the churches, confirmed by their charters, and their

customs observed from ancient usage, do remain inviolate. All the

possessions of the churches, and the tenures which they held during the

life, and at the death of my grandfather king William, I grant to them

free, and discharged from the claim of all parties: but if the church

shall hereafter claim any thing held, or possessed, before the death

of the king, of which it is now deprived, I reserve such matter for

discussion, or restitution at my will and pleasure. Moreover, whatever,

since that king’s death, has been obtained by the liberality of kings,

or the gift of princes; by offerings, or purchase, or by any exchange

of the faithful, I confirm. I pledge myself to keep peace, and do

justice to all, and to preserve them to my utmost ability. I reserve

to myself the forests which king William, my grandfather, and William

the Second, my uncle, have made and possessed: all the rest which king

Henry added, I give and grant, without molestation, to the churches,

and the kingdom. And if any bishop or abbat, or other ecclesiastical

person, shall have severally distributed[552] his property before his

death, or appointed such distribution, I allow it to remain good:

but if he shall have been suddenly seized by death, before making a

disposition, let the said distribution be made, at the discretion of

the church, for the repose of his soul. Moreover, when the sees shall

be vacant, let both them, and their whole possessions, be committed

into the hands and custody of the clergy, or of lawful men of the same

church, until a pastor be canonically appointed. I entirely do away

all exactions, mischeningas,[553] and injustices, whether illegally

introduced by the sheriffs, or any one else. I will observe the good

and ancient laws, and just customs, in murders, pleas, and other

causes, and I command and appoint them to be so observed. Done at

Oxford, A.D. 1136, in the first year of my reign.”

The names of the witnesses, who were numerous, I disdain to

particularize, because he as basely perverted almost every thing, as if

he had sworn only that he might manifest himself a violator of his oath

to the whole kingdom. This easy man must pardon me for speaking the

truth; who, had he entered on the sovereignty lawfully, and not given a

ready ear to the insinuations of the malevolent in the administration

of it, would have wanted little in any princely quality. Under him,

therefore, the treasures of several churches were pillaged, and their

landed possessions given to laymen; the churches of the clergy were

sold to foreigners; the bishops made captive, or forced to alienate

their property; the abbeys given to improper persons, either through

the influence of friendship, or for the discharge of debts. Still I

think such transactions are not so much to be ascribed to him as to his

advisers; who persuaded him, that, he ought never to want money, so

long as the monasteries were stored with treasure.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1137.] THE KING LEAVES ENGLAND.]

In the year of our Lord 1137, in the beginning of Lent, the king

crossed the sea. The earl, too, having thoroughly sounded, and

discovered the inclinations of such as he knew to be tenacious of

their plighted oath, and arranged what he conceived proper to be done

afterwards, himself embarked on Easter-day, and prosperously reached

the continent. Not long after, he had very nearly experienced the

malignity of adverse fortune: for the king endeavoured to intercept

him by treachery, at the instigation of one William de Ipres. The

earl, however, informed of it by one of the accomplices, avoided the

snare prepared for him, and absented himself from the palace, whither

he was repeatedly invited, for several days. The king, troubled at

having succeeded so little by his artifices, and thinking to effect his

design by cunning, endeavoured, by a serene countenance and unrequired

confession, to extenuate the enormity of his crime. He swore, in words

framed at the earl’s pleasure, never again to give countenance to such

an outrage: and still more to recover his good graces, he confirmed

his oath, by Hugo, archbishop of Rouen, giving his hand to Robert. This

he did, it is true; but he never bestowed his unreserved friendship

on that man, of whose power he was ever apprehensive. Thus, in his

presence he would pleasantly and affably call him “earl:” when he was

absent, he would vilify him, and would deprive him, clandestinely, of

such portions of his estates as he was able. Robert, too, artfully

eluding his duplicity, disguised his feelings, and allowing the king to

depart peaceably to his kingdom, continued in Normandy, intent on his

own concerns. Wherefore while Stephen, perplexed by many commotions in

England, and first attacking one, and then another, justly verified,

what was said of Ishmael, “That the hands of all were against him, and

his hand against all,” Robert passed that whole year in Normandy in

perfect quiet. The king pointedly, as it is reported, used frequently

to say of his rebellious subjects, “Since they have elected me king,

why do they desert me? By the birth of God, I will never be called a

fallen king!” Robert, placed, as it were, on an eminence, watched the

event of circumstances, and earnestly revolved how he might escape,

before God and man, the imputation of falsifying the oath he had sworn

to his sister.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1139.] TROUBLES IN ENGLAND.]

In the year of our Lord 1138, England was shaken with intestine

commotions. For many persons, emboldened to illegal acts, either by

nobility of descent or by ambition, or rather by unbridled heat of

youth, were not ashamed, some to demand castles, others estates,

and indeed whatever came into their fancy, from the king. When he

delayed complying with their requests, alleging the dismemberment

of his kingdom, or that others would make similar claims, or were

already in possession of them; they, becoming enraged immediately,

fortified their castles against him, and drove away large booties from

his lands. Nor, indeed, was his spirit at all broken by the revolt

of any, but attacking them suddenly in different places, he always

concluded matters more to his own disadvantage than to theirs; for,

after many great but fruitless labours, he gained from them, by the

grant of honours or castles, a peace, feigned only for a time. He

created likewise many earls,[554] where there had been none before,

appropriating to them possessions and rents, which rightfully belonged

to the crown. They were the more greedy in asking, and he the more

profuse in giving, because a rumour was pervading England, that Robert

earl of Gloucester, who was in Normandy, would shortly espouse the

cause of his sister, after first renouncing his fealty to the king.

This report was in fact well-founded: for shortly after Pentecost,

despatching some of his people to Stephen from Normandy, he, according

to ancient usage, renounced his fealty and friendship, and disannulled

his homage; assigning as a just reason for so doing, that the king had

illegally aspired to the kingdom, and neglected his plighted faith to

him, not to say absolutely belied it: and, moreover, that he himself

had acted contrary to law; who, after the oath sworn to his sister, had

not blushed to do homage to another, during her lifetime. Doubtless

also his mind was biassed by the answers of many ecclesiastics, whom

he had consulted upon the subject; who declared that he could by no

means pass the present life without ignominy, nor deserve the happiness

of the next, if he violated the oath made to paternal affection. In

addition to this, he contemplated the tenor of the papal decree,

commanding obedience to the oath taken in the presence of his father:

a copy of which decree I shall be careful to give in my next book.

Robert, who had imbibed knowledge by a copious draught from the fount

of science, was aware that these things would be of great advantage

to him hereafter. But the king, indignant at the spirit of the earl,

deprived him, as far as he was able, of all his possessions in England;

and levelled some of his castles to the ground. Bristol alone remained,

which not only expelled the enemy, but even harassed the king by

frequent incursions. But as it may suffice to have brought the first

book of modern history, from the return of the empress to her father

after the death of her husband, to this period, I shall now begin the

second, from the year in which this heroine came to England, to assert

her right against Stephen.

BOOK II.

In the year 1139, the venom of malice, which had long been nurtured

in the breast of Stephen, at length openly burst forth. Rumours were

prevalent in England, that earl Robert was on the very eve of coming

from Normandy with his sister: and, when under such an expectation,

many persons revolted from the king, not only in inclination but in

deed, he avenged himself for this injury, at the cost of numbers. He,

also, contrary to the royal character, seized many at court, through

mere suspicion of hostility to him, and obliged them to surrender

their castles, and accede to any conditions he prescribed. There

were, at that time, two very powerful bishops, in England, Roger of

Salisbury, and his fraternal nephew, Alexander of Lincoln. Alexander

had built the castle of Newark, as he said, for the defence and dignity

of the bishopric. Roger, who wished to manifest his magnificence

by building, had erected extensive castles at Sherborne, and more

especially at Devizes. At Malmesbury, even in the church-yard, and

scarcely a stone’s throw from the principal church, he had begun a

castle. He had gotten into his custody the castle of Salisbury, which

being royal property, he had obtained from king Henry, and surrounded

with a wall. Some powerful laymen, hurt at the probability of being

surpassed by the clergy, in extent of riches and magnitude of their

towns, took offence at this, and fostered the latent wound of envy in

their bosoms. Wherefore they poured forth their imagined grievances to

the king; observing, that the bishops, regardless of their order, were

mad for erecting castles: that none could doubt, but that they were

designed for the overthrow of the king; for, as soon as the empress

should arrive, they would, induced doubtless by the recollection of

her father’s kindness to them, immediately greet their sovereign with

the surrender of their fortresses: that, therefore they ought to be

prevented, and compelled to give up their strong holds; otherwise the

king would repent too late, when he saw in the power of the enemy, that

which, had he been wise, he might have applied to his own purpose.

Such were the frequent insinuations of the nobility. The king, though

far too partial to them, for some time pretended not to listen to what

gratified his ear so much; assuaging the bitterness of delay, either by

his respect for the piety of the bishops, or, as I rather think, from

apprehension of the odium he might incur, by seizing their castles.

Finally, he only postponed the execution of what the nobles had urged

him to, till an opportunity presented itself for his purpose: which was

as follows.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1139.] COUNCIL AT OXFORD.]

A great assembly of the nobles being held at Oxford about the eighth

before the kalends of July, the prelates above-mentioned also repaired

thither. The bishop of Salisbury set out on this expedition with great

reluctance; for I heard him speaking to the following purport: “By my

lady St. Mary, I know not why, but my heart revolts at this journey:

this I am sure of, that I shall be of much the same service at court,

as a foal is in battle:” thus did his mind forbode future evils. Here,

as though fortune would seem subservient to the king’s wishes, a

quarrel arose between the servants of the bishops and those of Alan,

earl of Brittany, about a right to quarters, which had a melancholy

termination; as the bishop of Salisbury’s retainers, then sitting at

table, left their meal unfinished and rushed to the contest. At first,

they contended with reproaches, afterwards with swords. The domestics

of Alan were put to flight, and his nephew nearly killed: nor was the

victory gained without bloodshed on the bishops’ side; for many were

wounded, and one knight[555] even slain. The king, eagerly seizing the

opportunity, ordered the bishops to be convened by his old instigators,

that they might make satisfaction to his court, as their people had

infringed his peace: that this satisfaction should be, the delivery

of the keys of their castles, as pledges of their fidelity. Though

prepared to make compensation, they hesitated at the surrender of their

fortresses; and in consequence, lest they should depart, he ordered

them into close confinement. He therefore conducted bishop Roger,

unfettered, but the chancellor, the nephew, or as it was reported,

more than the nephew,[556] of the bishop, in chains, to Devizes; a

castle, erected at great and almost incalculable expense, not, as the

prelate himself used to say, for the ornament, but as the real fact

is, to the detriment of the church. At the first summons, the castles

of Salisbury, Sherborne, and Malmesbury were yielded to the king.

Devizes also surrendered at the end of three days, after the bishop had

voluntarily enjoined himself abstinence from all food, that, by his

personal sufferings, he might subdue the spirit of the bishop of Ely,

who had taken possession[557] of it. Nor did the bishop of Lincoln act

more perseveringly; for he purchased his liberty by the surrender of

his castles of Newark and Sleaford.

This transaction of the king’s gave rise to the expression of many

different opinions. Some observed, that the bishops were justly

dispossessed of their castles, as they had built them in opposition

to the injunction of the canons: they ought to be glad preachers

of peace, not builders of houses which might be a refuge for the

contrivers of evil. Such was the doctrine enforced with ampler reasons

and discourses, by Hugo, archbishop of Rouen: as far as his eloquence

extended, the strenuous champion of the king. Others took the opposite

side of the question. This party was espoused by Henry, bishop of

Winchester, legate of England from the papal see, and brother to

king Stephen, as I have said before, whom no fraternal affection, no

fear of danger, could turn aside from the path of truth. He spake to

this effect: “If the bishops had in anything overpassed the bounds

of justice, the judging them did not pertain to the king, but to the

ecclesiastical canons: that they ought not to be deprived of any

possession but by a public and ecclesiastical council: that the king

had not acted from zealous regard to right, but with a view to his

own advantage; as he had not restored the castles to the churches, at

whose expense, and on whose land they were built, but had delivered

them to laymen, and those by no means of religious character.” Though

the legate made these declarations not only privately, but publicly

also before the king, and urged him to the liberation and restitution

of the bishops, yet, being entirely disregarded, he lost his labour.

In consequence, deeming it proper to resort to canonical power, he

summoned his brother, without delay, to be present at a council he

intended to hold at Winchester, on the fourth before the kalends of

September.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1139.] COUNCIL AT WINCHESTER.]

On the appointed day, almost all the bishops of England, with

Theobald, archbishop of Canterbury, who had succeeded William, came to

Winchester. Thurstan, archbishop of York, excused himself, on account

of the malady with which he was afflicted; for he was so enfeebled, as

to be hardly able to guide his steps: the others apologized for their

absence, by letter, on account of the war. The bull of pope Innocent

was first read in the council, whereby, even from the kalends of March,

if I rightly remember, he had enjoined the administration of his

anxious charge to the lord bishop of Winchester, as legate in England.

This was received with much good-will, as the bishop had shown his

forbearance by the lapse of time, and had not proclaimed himself legate

with precipitate vanity. Next followed, in the council, his address, in

the Latin tongue, directed to the learned, on the disgraceful detention

of the bishops: “of whom the bishop of Salisbury had been seized in

a chamber of the palace, Lincoln in his lodgings, and Ely, fearing

a similar treatment, had escaped the calamity by a hasty retreat to

Devizes:” he observed, “that it was a dreadful crime, that the king

should be so led away by sinister persons, as to have ordered violent

hands to be laid on his subjects, more especially bishops, in the

security of his court: that, to the king’s disgrace was to be added the

offence against God, in despoiling the churches of their possessions,

under pretext of the criminality of the prelates: that, the king’s

outrage against the law of God, was matter of such pain to him, that he

had rather himself suffer grievous injury, both in person and property,

than have the episcopal dignity so basely humiliated; moreover, that

the king, being repeatedly admonished to amend his fault, had, at

last, not refused that the council should be summoned: that therefore,

the archbishop and the rest should deliberate what was proper to be

done; and he would not be wanting to execute the sentence of the

council, either through regard to the friendship of the king, who was

his brother, or loss of property, or even danger of life.”

When he had gradually expatiated on these matters, the king, not

distrusting his cause, sent certain[558]earls into the council to

demand wherefore he was summoned. The legate briefly replied, “that,

when he recollected he was in subjection to the faith of Christ, he

ought not to be displeased, if, when guilty of a crime, such as the

present age had never witnessed, he was required, by the ministers of

Christ, to make satisfaction: that it was the act of heathen nations

to imprison bishops, and divest them of their possessions: that they

should tell his brother, therefore, that if he would deign a patient

assent to his advice, he would give him such, by the authority of God,

as neither the church of Rome, nor the French king’s court, nor even

earl Theobald, their common brother, a man of surpassing sense and

piety, could reasonably oppose; but such as they ought favourably to

embrace: that, at present, the king would act advisedly, if he would

either account for his conduct, or submit to canonical judgment: it

was, moreover, a debt he owed, to favour the church, by whose fostering

care, not by military force, he had been promoted to the kingdom.”

The earls retiring after this speech, returned shortly with an answer

prepared. They were accompanied by one Alberic de Ver, a man deeply

versed in legal affairs. He related the king’s answer, and aggravated

as much as possible the case of bishop Roger, for bishop Alexander

had departed; but this he did with moderation, and without using

opprobrious language, though some of the earls, standing by, repeatedly

interrupted his harangue by casting reproaches on the bishop.

The sum of what Alberic had to allege, was as follows: “That bishop

Roger had greatly injured king Stephen; that he seldom came to court,

but his people, presuming on his power, excited tumults; that they

had, frequently at other places and very lately at Oxford, attacked

the attendants, and even the very nephew of earl Alan, as well as

the servants of Hervey de Lyons, a man of such high nobility, and so

extremely haughty, that he had never deigned to visit England though

king Henry had invited him; that the injury, therefore, of such

violence having been offered him, doubly recoiled on king Stephen,

through respect to whom he had come hither; that the bishop of Lincoln

had been the author of the tumult excited by his followers from ancient

enmity to Alan; that the bishop of Salisbury secretly favoured the

king’s enemies, though he disguised his subtlety for the moment; that

the king had discovered this beyond all doubt, from many circumstances,

more especially, however, from the said bishop’s having refused

permission to Roger de Mortimer with the king’s soldiers whom he was

conducting, when under the greatest apprehensions from the garrison of

Bristol, to continue even a single night at Malmesbury; that it was in

every person’s mouth, that, as soon as the empress should arrive, he

would join her party, with his nephews and their castles; that Roger,

in consequence, was made captive, not as a bishop but as the king’s

servant who had administered his affairs and received his wages; that

the king had not taken their castles by violence, but that both bishops

had surrendered them voluntarily to escape the punishment due to the

disturbance they had excited in the court; that the king had found

some trifling sums of money in the castles which must lawfully belong

to himself, as bishop Roger had collected it from the revenues of the

exchequer in the times of his uncle and predecessor king Henry; that

the bishop had readily relinquished this money as well as the castles

through consciousness of his offences, of which the king did not want

for witnesses; that, therefore, he was willing that the conditions

entered into by himself and the bishops should remain in force.”

It was rejoined by bishop Roger, in opposition to the speech of

Alberic, that he had never been the minister of king Stephen; nor had

he received his wages. This spirited man, too, who blushed at being

cast down by adversity, threatened, that if he could not have justice

for the property which had been wrested from him, in that council, he

would seek it in the audience of a higher court. The legate mildly,

as usual, observed that every allegation against the bishops ought to

be made and the truth of it inquired into in an ecclesiastical court,

before passing sentence, contrary to the canons, on innocent persons;

that the king ought therefore to do as was incumbent in civil courts,

that is, re-invest the bishops with their own property, otherwise,

being disseized, by the law of nations, they will not plead.

Many arguments of this kind being used on both sides, the cause, at the

king’s request, was adjourned to the next day; then, on the morrow,

prolonged still a day farther till the arrival of the archbishop of

Rouen.

When he came, while all were anxious to hear what he had to allege, he

said he was willing to allow the bishops their castles if they could

prove by the canons that they ought justly to possess them; but as they

were not able to do this it was the height of impudence to contend

against the canons. “And admitting,” said he, “that it be just for them

to possess castles, yet most assuredly, as the times are eventful, all

chiefs, after the custom of other nations, ought to deliver up the

keys of their fortifications to the will of the king, who is bound to

wage war for the common security.” Thus the whole plea of the bishops

was shaken: for, either according to the decrees of the canons, it was

unjust for them to have castles, or, if that were allowed by the king’s

indulgence, they ought to yield to the emergency of the times, and give

up the keys.

To this, the aforesaid pleader Alberic added that it had been signified

to the king that the bishops muttered among themselves, and had even

made preparation for some of their party to proceed to Rome against

him. “And this,” said he, “the king advises that none of you presume to

do; for if any person shall go from England to any place, in opposition

to him and to the dignity of his kingdom, perhaps his return may not

be so easy. Moreover, he, as he sees himself aggrieved, of his own

accord summons you to Rome.” When the king had sent such a message,

partly advising and partly threatening, it was perceived what was his

design. In consequence the council broke up, as he would not submit to

canonical censure; and the bishops deemed it unadvisable to enforce

it against him for two reasons: first, because it was a rash act to

excommunicate the king without the knowledge of the pope; secondly,

because they understood, or some of them even saw, that swords were

unsheathed around them. The contention was no longer of mere words, but

nearly for life and for blood. The legate and the archbishop still,

however, were anxiously observant of their duty. They humbly prostrated

themselves before the king in his chamber, entreating him to take pity

on the church, and to consider his soul and his reputation, and that

he would not suffer a schism to be made between the empire and the

priesthood. Although he in some measure removed the odium of his former

conduct, by condescendingly rising to them, yet, prevented by ill

advice, he carried none of his fair promises into effect.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1139.] ARRIVAL OF EARL ROBERT.]

The council broke up on the kalends of September; and on the day

previous to the kalends of October, earl Robert, having at length

surmounted every cause of delay, arrived with the empress his sister

in England, relying on the protection of God and the observance of his

lawful oath; but with a much smaller military force than any other

person would have required for so perilous an enterprise; for he had

not with him, at that time, more than one hundred and forty horsemen.

My assertion is supported by persons of veracity; and did it not

look like flattery, I would say that he was not inferior to Julius

Cæsar, at least in resolution, whom Livy[559] relates to have had but

five cohorts when he began the civil war, with which he attacked the

world; though the comparison between Julius and Robert is invidious.

For Julius, an alien to the true faith, reposed his hope on his good

fortune, as he used to say, and the valour of his legions; Robert,

celebrated for Christian piety, relied only on the assistance of the

Holy Spirit and the lady St. Mary. The former had partizans in Gaul,

in part of Germany, and Brittany, and had attached to him by means of

presents all the Roman people with the exception of the senate; the

latter, bating a very few who regarded their plighted oath, found the

nobility in England either opposing or affording him no assistance.

He landed, then, at Arundel, and for a time delivered his sister into

the safe keeping, as he supposed, of her mother-in-law, whom Henry,

as I have before related, had taken to his bed on the death of the

empress’s mother. Himself proceeded through the hostile country to

Bristol, accompanied, as I have heard, by scarcely twelve horsemen,

and was joined in the midst of his journey by Brian Fitz-Count of

Wallingford. Nor was it long ere he learned that his sister had

quitted Arundel; for her mother-in-law, through female inconstancy,

had broken the faith she had repeatedly pledged by messages sent into

Normandy. The earl, therefore, committed the empress to Henry bishop of

Winchester and Waleran earl of Mellent for safe conduct, a favour never

denied to the most inveterate enemy by honourable soldiers. Waleran,

indeed, declined going farther than Calne, but the bishop continued his

route. The earl, therefore, quickly collecting his troops, came to the

boundary appointed by the king, and placed his sister in safe quarters

at Bristol. She was afterwards received into Gloucester by Milo, who

held the castle of that city under the earl in the time of king Henry,

doing him homage and swearing fidelity to him; for this is the chief

city of his county.

On the nones of October one Robert Fitz-Hubert, a savage barbarian, by

night clandestinely entering the castle of Malmesbury, which bishop

Rochester had inauspiciously founded, and burning the town, boasted

of the deed, as though he had gained a great triumph. But, within a

fortnight, his joy was at an end, being put to flight by the king.

Stephen, in the meantime, commanded possession to be kept of the

castle, until, on the restoration of peace, it might be destroyed.

The king, moreover, before he came to Malmesbury, had occupied, and

placed a garrison in a small fortress called Cerney, belonging to

the aforesaid Milo. In consequence, thinking he should be equally

successful elsewhere, as at that place and at Malmesbury, he assailed

a castle called Trowbridge, belonging to Humphrey de Bohun, who was of

the empress’s party, but he departed without success.

The whole country then around Gloucester to the extremity of Wales,

partly by force, and partly by favour, in the course of the remaining

months of that year, gradually espoused the party of their sovereign

the empress. The owners of certain castles, securing themselves within

their fastnesses, waited the issue of events. The city of Hereford

was taken without difficulty; and a few soldiers, who determined on

resistance, had thrown themselves into the castle, were blocked up.

The king drew nigh, if possible, to devise means for their assistance;

but frustrated in his wishes, he retired with disgrace. He also

approached Bristol, and going beyond it, burnt the neighbourhood around

Dunstore, leaving nothing, as far as he was able, which could minister

food to his enemies, or advantage to any one.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1139.] BISHOP OF SALISBURY’S DEATH.]

On the third before the ides of December, Roger bishop of Salisbury,

by the kindness of death, escaped the quartan ague which had long

afflicted him. They assert that his sickness was brought upon him

through grief at the severe and repeated injuries he had received from

king Stephen. To me it appears, that God exhibited him to the wealthy

as an example of the mutability of fortune, in order that they should

not trust in uncertain riches, which, as the apostle says, “while

some have coveted, concerning faith have made shipwreck.” He first

ingratiated himself with prince Henry, who became afterwards king, by

his prudence in the management of domestic matters, and by restraining

the excesses of his household. For, before his accession, Henry had

been careful and economical in his expenses, compelled thereto by

the scantiness of his resources, and the illiberal treatment of his

brothers, William and Robert. Knowing his disposition this way, Roger

had deserved so well of him in his time of need, that, when he came

to the throne, he denied him scarcely any thing he thought proper to

ask; gave him estates, churches, prebends, entire abbeys of monks,

and, lastly, committed even the kingdom to his fidelity: made him

chancellor, in the beginning of his reign, and not long after, bishop

of Salisbury. Roger, therefore decided causes; he regulated the

expenditure; he had charge of the treasury. Such were his occupations

when the king was in England: such, without associate or inspector,

when he resided in Normandy; which took place repeatedly, and for a

long time together. And not only the king, but the nobility, even

those who were secretly stung with envy at his good fortune, and more

especially the ministers and debtors of the king, gave him almost

whatever he could fancy. Was there any thing contiguous to his property

which might be advantageous to him, he would directly extort it, either

by entreaty or purchase; or, if that failed, by force. With unrivalled

magnificence in their construction, as our times may recollect, he

erected splendid mansions on all his estates; in merely maintaining

which, the labour of his successors shall toil in vain. His cathedral

he dignified to the utmost with matchless ornaments and buildings on

which no expense was spared. It was truly wonderful to behold in this

man, what abundant power attended him in every kind of dignity, and

flowed as it were to his hand. How great was the glory, indeed, what

could exceed it, that he should have made his two nephews, by virtue of

his education, men of noted learning and industry, bishops; and, not

of mean sees; but of Lincoln and Ely, than which, I know not whether

there be more opulent in England? He was sensible of his power, and,

somewhat more harshly than became such a character, abused the favours

of heaven. Lastly, as a certain poet observes of a rich man,[560]

“He builds, destroys, and changes square for round,”

so Roger attempted to turn abbeys into bishoprics, and bishoprics into

abbeys. The most ancient monasteries of Malmesbury and Abbotsbury,

he annexed, as far as he was able, to his see. He changed the priory

of Sherborne, which is subject to the bishop of Salisbury, into an

abbey; and the abbey of Hortun was forthwith dissolved and united to

it. These events took place in the time of king Henry, under whom,

as I have observed, his prosperity reached its zenith: for under

Stephen, as I have before related, it began to decline; except that in

the beginning of his reign, he obtained for one of his nephews, the

chancellorship; for the other the office of treasurer; and for himself

the town of Malmesbury; the king repeating often to his companions, “By

the birth of God, I would give him half England, if he asked for it:

till the time be ripe, he shall tire of asking, ere I tire of giving.”

But fortune, who, in former times, had flattered him so long and so

transcendently, at last cruelly pierced him with scorpion-sting. Such

was that instance, when he saw those whom he dearly regarded, wounded;

and his most favoured knight killed before his face; the next day,

himself, and, as I said before, his nephews, very powerful bishops, the

one compelled to fly, the other detained, and the third, a young man

to whom he was greatly attached, bound with chains: on the surrender

of his castles, his treasures pillaged, and himself afterwards, in the

council, loaded with the most disgraceful reproaches. Finally, as he

was nearly breathing his latest sigh, at Salisbury, the residue of his

money and utensils, which he had placed upon the altar for the purpose

of completing the church, was carried off against his will. The height

of his calamity, was, I think, a circumstance which even I cannot help

commiserating; that, though he appeared wretched to many, yet there

were very few who pitied him: so much envy and hatred had his excessive

power drawn on him, and undeservedly, too, from some of those very

persons whom he had advanced to honour.

In the year of the Incarnate Word 1140, the monks of those abbeys

which Roger had unjustifiably usurped, waiting on the king, were

permitted to enjoy their ancient privileges, and abbats, as formerly.

John, a monk of that place, a man highly celebrated for the affability

of his manners and the liberality of his mind, was elected abbat of

Malmesbury by the monks, according to the tenor of the privilege which

St. Aldhelm had obtained from pope Sergius four hundred and sixty-six

years before, and had caused to be confirmed by the kings, Ina of the

West Saxons, and Ethelred of the Mercians. The legate approved the

claim, but disapproved of the person: for he could not be induced to

believe that the king had consented to the election but by a gift in

money. And, indeed, a small sum had been promised, on the score of

liberating the church, not for the election of the person. Wherefore

John, though taken off by a premature death within the year, still left

a lasting and laudable memory of himself to all succeeding ages. For no

monk of that place, I confess the truth, would have pursued a task of

such difficulty, had not John begun it. Wherefore let his successors

be praised, if they shall preserve the liberty of that church; he

certainly rescued it from thraldom.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1140.] DISTRESSED STATE OF ENGLAND.]

The whole of this year was embittered by the horrors of war.

There were many castles throughout England, each defending their

neighbourhood, but, more properly speaking, laying it waste. The

garrisons drove off from the fields, both sheep and cattle, nor did

they abstain either from churches or church-yards. Seizing such of

the country vavassours[561] as were reputed to be possessed of

money, they compelled them, by extreme torture, to promise whatever

they thought fit. Plundering the houses of the wretched husbandmen,

even to their very beds, they cast them into prison; nor did they

liberate them, but on their giving every thing they possessed or

could by any means scrape together, for their release. Many calmly

expired in the midst of torments inflicted to compel them to ransom

themselves, bewailing, which was all they could do, their miseries to

God. And, indeed, at the instance of the earl, the legate, with the

bishops, repeatedly excommunicated all violators of church-yards and

plunderers of churches, and those who laid violent hands on men in

holy or monastic orders, or their servants: but this his attention

profited but little. It was distressing, therefore, to see England,

once the fondest cherisher of peace and the single receptacle of

tranquillity, reduced to such a pitch of misery, that, not even the

bishops, nor monks, could pass in safety from one town to another.

Under king Henry, many foreigners, who had been driven from home by the

commotions of their native land, were accustomed to resort to England,

and rest in quiet under his fostering protection: in Stephen’s time,

numbers of freebooters from Flanders and Brittany flocked to England,

in expectation of rich pillage. Meanwhile, the earl of Gloucester

conducted himself with caution, and his most earnest endeavours were

directed to gaining conquests with the smaller loss to his adherents.

Such of the English nobility as he could not prevail upon to regard

the obligation of their oath, he held it sufficient if he could so

restrain, that, if they did not assist, they would not injure the

cause: being willing, according to the saying of the comic writer,

“To do what he could, when he could not do what he would.” But when

he saw the opportunity present itself, he strenuously performed the

duty both of soldier and of general; more especially, he valiantly

subdued those strong holds, which were of signal detriment to the

cause he had espoused; that is to say, Harpetrey, which king Stephen

had taken from certain soldiers of the earl before he came to England,

and many others; Sudley, Cerney, which the king had garrisoned, as

I have said; and the castle which Stephen had fortified over against

Wallingford, he levelled to the ground. He also, in these difficult

times, created his brother Rainald, earl of Cornwall. Nor indeed did

the king show less spirit in performing the duties of his station; for

he omitted no occasion of repeatedly beating off his adversaries, and

defending his own possessions. But he failed of success, and all things

declined, for lack of justice. Dearth of provisions, too, increased by

degrees, and the scarcity of good money was so great, from its being

counterfeited, that, sometimes out of ten or more shillings, hardly

a dozen pence would be received. The king himself was reported to

have ordered the weight of the penny, as established in king Henry’s

time, to be reduced, because, having exhausted the vast treasures of

his predecessor, he was unable to provide for the expense of so many

soldiers. All things, then, became venal in England; and churches and

abbeys were no longer secretly, but even publicly exposed to sale.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1140.] ROBERT FITZ-HUBERT.]

During this year, in Lent, on the thirteenth before the kalends of

April, at the ninth hour of the fourth day of the week, there was an

eclipse, throughout England, as I have heard. With us, indeed, and

with all our neighbours, the obscuration of the sun was so remarkable,

that persons sitting at table, as it then happened almost every where,

for it was Lent, at first feared that chaos was come again: afterwards

learning its cause, they went out, and beheld the stars around the sun.

It was thought and said by many, not untruly, that the king would not

continue a year in the government.

In the following week, that is, during the time of the Passion, on

the seventh before the kalends of April, the forementioned barbarian,

Robert Fitz-Hubert, a character well calculated for the stratagems

of war, surprised the castle of Devizes:[562] a man, by far the most

cruel of any within the circle of this age’s memory: blasphemous,

also, towards God. He used voluntarily to boast of having been

present at a place where twenty-four monks were burnt, together with

the church, declaring, that he too would frequently do the like in

England, and grieve God, by the plunder of the church of Wilton; and

the destruction of Malmesbury, with the slaughter of all its monks:

that he would return them this good office, because they had admitted

the king, to his disadvantage: for of this he accused them, though

without foundation. I myself have heard, when, at any time, which was

extremely rare indeed, he liberated his captives without torture,

and they thanked him for it, on the part of God, I have heard him, I

say, reply; “never let God owe me any thanks.” He used to expose his

prisoners, naked and rubbed with honey, to the burning heat of the sun;

thereby exciting flies, and other insects of that kind, to sting them.

But, having now got possession of Devizes, he hesitated not to boast,

that, he should gain, by means of this castle, the whole district from

Winchester to London; and that he would send to Flanders for soldiers

to defend him. While meditating, however, such a scheme, divine

vengeance overtook him through the agency of one John Fitz-Gilbert, a

man of surprising subtlety, who had a castle at Marlborough. For being

thrown into chains by him, because he refused to surrender Devizes

to his sovereign, the empress, he was hanged, like a common thief.

Wonderful was the judgment of God on this sacrilegious wretch, that he

should meet with such an ignominious end, not from the king, to whom

he was inimical, but from the very persons he appeared to favour. The

authors of his death ought worthily to be extolled, for having freed

the country from such a pest, and justly despatched an intestine enemy.

In the same year, during Pentecost, the king resided at London, in the

Tower, attended only by the bishop of Sees, for the others disdained,

or feared, to come thither. Some little time after, by the mediation

of the legate, a conference was appointed between the empress and the

king, that, if possible, by the inspiration of God, peace might be

restored. To this conference, near Bath, were sent on the part of the

empress, her brother Robert, and others of her friends: on the king’s,

the legate, the archbishop, and also the queen. But they wasted words

and time, to no purpose, and departed without being able to conclude

a peace. Nor was the ground of separation equal on both sides, as the

empress, more inclined to justice, had declared, that she was not

averse to the decision of the church: but the king most cautiously

avoided this; fondly trusting to the counsels of those persons who

loved nothing less than peace, so long as they could make their

ascendency over him answer their own purposes. In the latter end of

September, the legate, who knew that it was the especial duty of his

office to restore peace, undertaking the toil of a foreign voyage for

its accomplishment, hastened to sail over to France. Here, a long and

anxious discussion, for tranquillizing England, taking place, between

the king of France, earl Theobald, and many of the clergy, he returned,

nearly at the end of November, bringing back counsels wholesome for

the country, could they have been carried into effect. And indeed the

empress and the earl assented to them immediately, but the king delayed

from day to day, and finally rejected them altogether. Upon this, at

last, the legate discontinued his exertions, waiting, like the rest,

for the issue of events: for what avails it to swim against the stream?

and, as some one observes, “To seek odium only by one’s labours is the

height of madness.”

BOOK III.

I now attempt to give a clue to the mazy labyrinth of events and

transactions which occurred in England, during the year 1141,[563] lest

posterity, through my neglect, should be unacquainted with them; as

it is of service to know the volubility of fortune and the mutability

of human estate, God only permitting or ordaining them. And, as the

moderns greatly and deservedly blame our predecessors, for having left

no memorial of themselves or their transactions since the days of Bede,

I think I ought to be very favourably regarded by my readers, if they

judge rightly, for determining to remove this reproach from our times.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1141.] SIEGE OF LINCOLN.]

King Stephen had peaceably departed from the county of Lincoln before

Christmas, and had augmented the honours of the earl of Chester,[564]

and of his brother; of whom the earl, long since, in the time of king

Henry, had been married to the daughter of the earl of Gloucester. In

the meanwhile, the citizens of Lincoln, who wished to acquire great

favour with the king, certified him by a message, when resident in

London, that the two brothers had taken up their abode in security,

in the castle of that city: and that, suspecting nothing less than

the arrival of the king, they might be very easily surprised, while

themselves would provide that he should get possession of the castle

as secretly as possible. As Stephen never wished to neglect any

opportunity of augmenting his power, he gladly repaired thither. In

consequence, the brothers were surprised and besieged, even in the

Christmas holidays. This step appeared unjustifiable to many, because,

as I have observed, he had left them before the festival, without

any suspicion of enmity; nor had he, even now, after ancient usage,

abjured his friendship with them, which they call “defying.” However,

the earl of Chester, though surrounded with imminent dangers, adroitly

escaped from the castle. By what management this was accomplished I

know not; whether through consent of some of the besiegers, or whether,

because valour, when taken by surprise, frequently tries variety

of methods, and often discovers a remedy for its emergencies. Not

content with his own escape, he earnestly cast about, how to devise

the safety of his brother and of his wife, whom he had left in the

fortress. The more prudent mode seemed to be, to request assistance

from his father-in-law, although he had long since offended him on

many accounts, but principally because he appeared staunch to neither

party. He sent messengers, therefore, promising eternal fidelity to the

empress, if, induced more by affectionate regard than any desert of

his, he would rescue those from danger, who were already in the very

jaws of captivity.

Unable to endure this indignity, the earl of Gloucester readily

assented. Weary of delay, too, as the fairest country was harassed

with intestine rapine and slaughter, for the sake of two persons, he

preferred bringing the matter to an issue at once, would God permit.

He hoped, also, for the Divine assistance on his undertaking, as the

king had molested his son-in-law, without any fault on his part; was at

that moment besieging his daughter; and had castellated the church of

the holy mother of God in Lincoln. How much ought these things to weigh

in the mind of a prince? Would it not be better to die, and fall with

honour, than endure so marked a disgrace? For the sake then of avenging

God, and his sister, and liberating his relations, he entered on this

perilous undertaking. The supporters of his party readily accompanied

him; the major part of whom being deprived of their inheritances, were

instigated to hostility by rage at their losses, and the consciousness

of their valour. However, during the whole extended march, from

Gloucester to Lincoln, he studiously concealed his intention, leaving

all the army, with the exception of a very few, in suspense, by his

mysterious conduct.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1141.] STEPHEN DEFEATED.]

At length, on the day of the Purification of the blessed Mary, they

arrived at the river flowing between the two armies, called the

Trent, which, from its springs, together with floods of rain, had

risen so high, that it could not possibly be forded. Here, at last,

disclosing his intention to his son-in-law, who had joined him with a

strong force, and to those he had brought with him, he added, that,

“He had long since made up his mind, never to be induced to fly, be

the emergency what it might; if they could not conquer, they must die

or be taken.” All encouraged him to hope the best; and, wonderful to

hear, though on the eve of hazarding a battle, he swam over the rapid

river I have mentioned, with the whole of his party. So great was the

earl’s ardour to put an end to calamity, that he preferred risking

extremities to prolonging the sufferings of the country. The king,

too, with many earls, and an active body of cavalry, abandoning the

siege, courageously presented himself for battle. The royalists began

the prelude to the fight, which they call the “joust,”[565] as they

were skilled in that exercise: but when they saw that the consular

party, if they may be so called, did not attack from a distance with

lances, but at close quarters with swords, and broke the king’s ranks

with violent and determined onset, the earls, to a man, for six of

them had entered the conflict, together with the king, consulted their

safety by flight. A few barons, of laudable fidelity and valour, who

would not desert him, even in his necessity, were made captive. The

king, though he by no means wanted spirit to defend himself, being

at last attacked on every side by the earl of Gloucester’s soldiers,

fell to the ground by a blow from a stone; but who was the author of

this deed is uncertain. Thus, when all around him were either taken

or dispersed, he was compelled to yield to circumstances and become a

captive. On which the truly noble earl of Gloucester commanded the king

to be preserved uninjured, not suffering him to be molested even with

a reproach; and the person, whom he had just before fiercely attacked

when dignified with the sovereignty, he now calmly protected when

subdued: that the tumults of anger and of joy being quieted, he might

show kindness to his relation, and respect the dignity of the diadem

in the captive. The citizens of Lincoln were slaughtered on all sides

by the just indignation of the victors, and without commiseration on

the part of the conquered, as they had been the origin and fomenters of

this calamity.

The king, according to the custom of such as are called captives,

was presented to the empress, at Gloucester, by her brother, and

afterwards conducted to Bristol. Here, at first, he was kept with

every mark of honour, except the liberty of going at large: but in

succeeding time, through the presumption of certain persons, who said

openly and contumeliously, that it did not behove the earl to treat

the king otherwise than they chose; and also, because it was reported,

that having either eluded or bribed his keepers, he had been found,

more than once, beyond the appointed limits, more especially in the

night-time, he was confined with fetters.

In the meanwhile, both the empress and the earl dealt by messengers

with the legate his brother, that he should forthwith receive her into

the church,[566] and to the kingdom, as the daughter of king Henry,

to whom all England and Normandy had sworn allegiance. This year, the

first Sunday in Lent happened on the fourteenth before the kalends of

March. By means of negotiators on either side, the business was so far

forwarded, that they agreed to meet in conference, on an open plain

on this side of Winchester. They assembled, therefore, on the third

Sunday in Lent, a day dark and rainy, as though the fates would portend

a woeful change in this affair. The empress swore, and pledged her

faith to the bishop, that all matters of importance in England, and

especially the bestowing of bishoprics and abbeys, should await his

decision, if he, with the holy church, would receive her as sovereign,

and observe perpetual fidelity towards her. Her brother, Robert, earl

of Gloucester, swore as she did, and pledged his faith for her, as did

also Brian Fitz-count, lord Marcher[567] of Wallingford, and Milo of

Gloucester, afterwards earl of Hereford, with some others. Nor did the

bishop hesitate to receive the empress as sovereign of England, and,

together with certain of his party, to pledge his faith, that so long

as she did not infringe the covenant, he would observe his fidelity

to her. On the morrow, which was the fifth before the nones of March,

a splendid procession being formed, she was received in the cathedral

of Winchester; the bishop-legate conducting her on the right side,

and Bernard, bishop of St. David’s, on the left. There were present

also, Alexander, bishop of Lincoln, Robert of Hereford, Nigel of Ely,

Robert of Bath: the abbats, Ingulf of Abingdon, Edward of Reading,

Peter of Malmesbury, Gilbert of Gloucester, Roger of Tewkesbury, and

some others. In a few days, Theobald, archbishop of Canterbury, came

to the empress at Winchester, by invitation of the legate: but he

deferred promising fidelity to her, deeming it beneath his reputation

and character to change sides, till he had consulted the king. In

consequence, he, and many other prelates, with some few of the laity,

were allowed to visit Stephen and converse with him: and, graciously

obtaining leave to submit to the exigency of the times, they embraced

the sentiments of the legate. The empress passed Easter, which happened

on the third before the kalends of April, at Oxford; the rest returned

to their respective homes.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1141.] CONFERENCE AT WINCHESTER.]

On the day after the octaves of Easter, a council began, with

great parade, at Winchester, consisting of Theobald, archbishop of

Canterbury, all the bishops of England, and many abbats: the legate

presiding. Such as were absent, accounted for it by messengers and

letters. As I was present at the holding of this council, I will

not deny posterity the truth of every circumstance; for I perfectly

remember it. On the same day, after the letters were read by which

some excused their absence, the legate called the bishops apart,

and discoursed with them in secret of his design; then the abbats,

and, lastly, the archdeacons were summoned. Of his intention nothing

transpired publicly, though what was to be done engrossed the minds and

conversation of all.

On the third day of the week, the speech of the legate ran nearly to

this effect: “That, by the condescension of the pope, he acted as his

vicegerent in England: wherefore, by his authority, the clergy of

England were assembled at this council to deliberate on the peace of

the country, which was exposed to imminent danger: that, in the time of

king Henry, his uncle, England had been the peculiar abode of peace;

so that by the activity, and spirit, and care of that most excellent

man, not only the natives, of whatever power or dignity, dared make no

disturbance; but, by his example, each neighbouring king and prince,

also, yielded to peace, and either invited, or compelled, his subjects

to do the like: moreover, that this king, some years before his

death, had caused the whole realm of England, as well as the duchy of

Normandy, to be engaged, by the oaths of all the bishops and barons, to

his daughter, late the empress, who was his only surviving issue by his

former consort, if he should fail of male offspring by the wife he had

espoused from Lorraine: and adverse fortune,” said he, “was envious of

my most excellent uncle, and suffered him to die in Normandy without

male issue. Therefore, as it seemed long to wait for a sovereign who

delayed coming to England, for she resided in Normandy, we provided

for the peace of the country, and my brother was allowed to reign. And

although I gave myself as surety between him and God, that he would

honour and advance the holy church, and uphold good, but abrogate evil,

laws; yet it grieves me to remember, shames me to say, how he conducted

himself in the kingdom: how justice ceased to be exerted against the

daring; how all peace was annihilated, almost within the year: the

bishops made captive, and compelled to give up their possessions; the

abbeys sold; the churches robbed of their treasures; the counsels of

the abandoned regarded: while those of the virtuous were postponed or

totally despised. You know how often I addressed him, both by myself

and the bishops, more especially in the council held last year for

that purpose, and that I gained by it nothing but odium. Every one,

who shall think rightly, must be aware, that I ought to love my mortal

brother, but that I should still more regard the cause of my immortal

Father. Wherefore, since God has exercised his judgment on my brother,

by permitting him, without my knowledge, to fall into the hands of

the powerful, I have invited you all here to assemble by virtue of

my legation, lest the kingdom should fall to decay through want of a

sovereign. The case was yesterday agitated in private, before the major

part of the English clergy, to whose right it principally pertains to

elect the sovereign, and also to crown him. First, then, as is fitting,

invoking God’s assistance, we elect the daughter of that peaceful, that

glorious, that rich, that good, and, in our times, incomparable king,

as sovereign of England and Normandy, and promise her fidelity and

support.”

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1141.] MATILDA ELECTED SOVEREIGN.]

When all present had either becomingly applauded his sentiments, or,

by their silence, not contradicted them, he added: “We have despatched

messengers for the Londoners, who, from the importance of their city in

England, are almost nobles, as it were, to meet us on this business;

and have sent them a safe-conduct: and we trust they will not delay

their arrival beyond to-morrow: wherefore let us give them indulgence

till that time.”

On the fourth day of the week the Londoners came; and being introduced

to the council, urged their cause, so far as to say, that they were

sent from the fraternity, as they call it, of London, not to contend,

but to entreat that their lord the king might be liberated from

captivity: that all the barons, who had long since been admitted to

their fellowship, most earnestly solicited this of the lord legate and

the archbishop, as well as of all the clergy who were present. The

legate answered them copiously and clearly: and, that their request

might be the less complied with, the speech of the preceding day was

repeated, with the addition, that it did not become the Londoners, who

were considered as the chief people of England, in the light of nobles,

to side with those persons who had deserted their lord in battle; by

whose advice the king had dishonoured the holy church; and who, in

fact, only appeared to favour the Londoners, that they might drain them

of their money.

In the meantime, a certain person, whose name, if I rightly remember,

was Christian, a clerk belonging to the queen, as I heard, rose up,

and held forth a paper to the legate. He having silently perused it,

exalted his voice to the highest pitch, and said, that it was informal,

and improper to be recited in so great an assembly, especially of

dignified and religious persons. For, among other offensive and

singular points, the signature of a person was affixed to it, who, in

the preceding year, at a similar council, had attacked the venerable

bishops with opprobrious language. The legate thus baffling him, the

clerk was not wanting to his mission, but, with notable confidence,

read the letter in their hearing; of which this was the purport. “The

queen earnestly entreated the whole clergy assembled, and especially

the bishop of Winchester, the brother of her lord, to restore the

said lord to his kingdom, whom abandoned persons, and even such as

were under homage to him, had cast into chains.” To this suggestion,

the legate answered to the same effect as to the Londoners. These

conferring together, declared, that they would relate the decree of the

council to their townsmen, and give it their support as far as they

were able.

On the fifth day of the week the council broke up, many of the royal

party having been first excommunicated; more especially William

Martel, who had formerly been cup-bearer to king Henry, and was

at that time butler to Stephen; for he had sorely exasperated the

legate, by intercepting and pilfering much of his property. It was

now a work of great difficulty to soothe the minds of the Londoners:

for though these matters, as I have said, were agitated immediately

after Easter, yet was it only a few days before the Nativity of St.

John that they would receive the empress. At that time great part

of England readily submitted to her government; her brother Robert

was assiduously employed in promoting her dignity by every becoming

method; kindly addressing the nobility, making many promises, and

intimidating the adverse party, or even, by messengers, exhorting them

to peace; and already restoring justice, and the law of the land, and

tranquillity, throughout every district which favoured the empress;

and it is sufficiently notorious that if his party had trusted to

Robert’s moderation and wisdom, it would not afterwards experienced

so melancholy a reverse. The lord legate, too, appeared of laudable

fidelity in furthering the interests of the empress. But, behold, at

the very moment when she imagined she should get possession of all

England, every thing was changed. The Londoners, ever suspicious and

murmuring among themselves, now burst out into open expressions of

hatred; and, as it is reported, even laid wait for their sovereign and

her nobles. Aware of and escaping this plot, they gradually retired

from the city, without tumult and in a certain military order. The

empress was accompanied by the legate and David king of Scotland, the

heroine’s uncle, together with her brother Robert who then, as at every

other time, shared her fortune; and, in short, all her partizans to a

man escaped in safety. The Londoners, learning their departure, flew to

their residence and plundered every thing which they had left in their

haste.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1141.] THE EMPRESS AND THE LEGATE.]

Not many days after, a misunderstanding arose between the legate and

the empress which may be justly considered as the melancholy cause of

every subsequent evil in England. How this happened I will explain.

King Stephen had a son named Eustace, begotten on the daughter of

Eustace earl of Boulogne. For king Henry, the father of the empress,

that I may go back somewhat to acquaint posterity with the truth of

these transactions, had given Mary, the sister of his wife, the mother

of this lady, in marriage to the aforesaid earl, as he was of noble

descent and equally renowned for prudence and for valour. By Mary,

Eustace had no issue except a daughter called Matilda. When she became

marriageable, after the death of her father, the same truly magnificent

king gave her in wedlock to his nephew Stephen, and also procured by

his care the county of Boulogne for him, as he had before conferred

on him that of Moreton in Normandy. The legate had justly proposed

that these counties should be bestowed on his nephew Eustace, whom I

mentioned, so long as his father should remain in captivity. This the

empress altogether opposed, and it is doubtful whether she had not even

promised them to others. Offended at the repulse, he kept from her

court many days; and though repeatedly sent for, persisted in refusing

to go thither. In the meanwhile, he held a friendly conference with the

queen, his brother’s wife, at Guildford, and being wrought upon by her

tears and concessions, bent his mind to the liberation of Stephen. He

also absolved, without consulting the bishops, all those of the king’s

party whom he had excommunicated in the council, while his complaints

against the empress were disseminated through England, that she wished

to seize his person; that she observed nothing which she had sworn to

him; that all the barons of England had performed their engagements

towards her, but that she had violated hers, as she knew not how to use

her prosperity with moderation.

To allay, if possible, these commotions, the earl of Gloucester, with

a retinue not very numerous, proceeded to Winchester; but, failing in

his endeavours, he returned to Oxford, where his sister had for some

time established her residence. She therefore understanding, as well

from what she was continually hearing, as from what she then learned

from her brother, that the legate had no friendly dispositions towards

her, proceeded to Winchester with such forces as she could muster.

Being immediately admitted into the royal castle, with good intentions

probably she sent messengers to the bishop, requesting that, as she was

upon the spot, he would come to her without delay. He, not thinking

it safe to go, deceived the messengers by an evasive manner, merely

saying, “I will prepare myself:” and immediately he sent for all such

as he knew were well-disposed to the king. In consequence almost all

the earls of England came; for they were full of youth and levity, and

preferred military enterprise to peace. Besides, many of them were

ashamed at having deserted the king in battle, as has been said before,

and thought to wipe off the ignominy of having fled, by attending this

meeting. Few, however, attended the empress: there were David king of

Scotland, Robert earl of Gloucester, Milo de Hereford, and some barons;

for Ranulf earl of Chester came late, and to no purpose. To comprise,

therefore, a long series of events within narrow limits: the roads on

every side of Winchester were watched by the queen and the earls who

had come with her, lest supplies should be brought in to those who had

sworn fidelity to the empress. The town of Andover also was burned.

On the west, therefore, necessaries were procured but scantily and

with difficulty; some persons found on the road, being intercepted

and either killed or maimed; while on the east, every avenue towards

London was crowded with supplies destined for the bishop and his

party; Geoffrey de Mandeville, who had now again revolted to them, for

formerly after the capture of the king he had sworn fidelity to the

empress, and the Londoners, lending every possible assistance, and

omitting no circumstance which might distress that princess. The people

of Winchester were, though secretly, inclined to her side, regarding

the faith they had before pledged to her, although they had been in

some degree compelled by the bishop to such a measure. In the meanwhile

combustibles were hurled from the bishop’s castle on the houses of

the townspeople, who, as I have said, rather wished success to the

empress than to the bishop, which caught and burned the whole abbey of

nuns within the city, and the monastery which is called Hyde without

the walls. Here was an image of our Lord crucified, wrought with a

profusion of gold and silver and precious stones, through the pious

solicitude of Canute, who was formerly king and presented it. This

being seized by the flames and thrown to the ground, was afterwards

stripped of its ornaments at the command of the legate himself: more

than five hundred marks of silver and thirty of gold, which were

found on it, served for a largess to the soldiers. The abbey of nuns

at Warewell was also burned by one William de Ipres, an abandoned

character who feared neither God nor man, because some of the partizans

of the empress had secured themselves within it.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1141.] RETREAT OF THE EARL OF GLOUCESTER.]

In the meantime, the earl of Gloucester, though suffering, with

his followers, by daily contests with the royalists, and though

circumstances turned out far beneath his expectation, yet ever

abstained from the burning of churches, notwithstanding he resided in

the vicinity of St. Swithun’s. But unable to endure any longer the

disgrace of being, together with his party, almost besieged, and seeing

fortune inclining towards the enemy, he deemed it expedient to yield

to necessity; and, having marshalled his troops, he prepared to depart.

Sending his sister, therefore, and the rest, in the vanguard, that she

might proceed without interruption, he himself retreated gently, with

a chosen few, who had spirit enough not to be alarmed at a multitude.

The earls immediately pursuing him, as he thought it disgraceful, and

beneath his dignity to fly, and was the chief object of universal

attack, he was made captive. The rest, especially the chiefs, proceeded

on their destined journey, and, with the utmost precipitation,

reached Devizes. Thus they departed from Winchester on the day of the

exaltation of the holy cross, which at that time happened on a Sunday,

having come thither a few days before the assumption of the holy

mother of God. It appeared to some rather miraculous, and was matter

of general conversation in England, that the king on the Sunday of the

purification of our lady, and the earl on the Sunday of the exaltation

of the life-imparting cross, should each experience a similar fate.

This, however, was truly worthy of remark and admiration, that, no one,

on this mischance, ever beheld the earl of Gloucester either dispirited

or dejected in countenance. He breathed too high a consciousness of

dignity, to subject himself to the caprice of fortune; and, although

he was at first invited by soothing measures, and afterwards assailed

by threats, he never consented to treat of his liberation, except with

the privity of his sister. At last the affair was thus decided: that

the king and himself should be liberated on equal terms; no condition

being proposed, except that each might defend his party, to the utmost

of his abilities, as before. These matters, after repeated and long

discussion, from the exaltation of the holy cross, to the festival of

All Saints, then came to a suitable conclusion. For on that day, the

king, released from his captivity, left his queen, and son, and two of

the nobility at Bristol, as sureties for the liberation of the earl;

and came with the utmost speed to Winchester, where the earl, now

brought from Rochester, whither he had first been taken, was at this

time confined. The third day after, when the king came to Winchester,

the earl departed, leaving there on that day his son William, as a

pledge, till the queen should be released. Performing with quick

despatch the journey to Bristol, he liberated the queen, on whose

return, William, the earl’s son, was set free from his detention.

It is, moreover, sufficiently notorious, that, although, during the

whole of his captivity and of the following months till Christmas,

he was enticed by numberless and magnificent promises to revolt from

his sister; yet he always deemed his fraternal affection of greater

importance than any promise which could be made him. For leaving his

property and his castles, which he might have quietly enjoyed, he

continued unceasingly near the empress at Oxford, where, as I have said

before, fixing her residence, she held her court.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1141.] COUNCIL AT WESTMINSTER.]

In the meantime, the legate, a prelate of unbounded spirit, who was

never inclined to leave incomplete what he had once purposed, summoned

by his legatine authority a council at Westminster, on the octaves of

St. Andrew. I cannot relate the transactions of this council with that

exact veracity with which I did the former, as I was not present. We

have heard that a letter was then read from the sovereign pope, in

which he gently rebuked the legate for not endeavouring to release

his brother; but that he forgave him his former transgression, and

earnestly exhorted him to attempt his liberation by any mode, whether

ecclesiastical or secular: that the king himself entered the council,

and complained to the reverend assembly, that his own subjects had both

made captive, and nearly killed him by the injuries they inflicted on

him, who had never refused them justice. That the legate himself, too,

by great powers of eloquence, endeavoured to extenuate the odium of

his own conduct: that, in truth, he had received the empress, not from

inclination, but necessity; for, that, while his brother’s overthrow

was yet recent, all the earls being either dispersed or waiting the

issue of events in suspense, she had surrounded Winchester with her

party: that she had obstinately persevered in breaking every promise

she had made pertaining to the right of the churches: and that he had

it from unquestionable authority, that she, and her partisans, had not

only had designs on his dignity, but even on his life: that, however,

God, in his mercy, had caused matters to fall out contrary to her

hopes, so that he should himself escape destruction, and rescue his

brother from captivity: that he commanded therefore, on the part of

God and of the pope, that they should strenuously assist the king,

anointed by the will of the people and with the approbation of the holy

see: but that such as disturbed the peace, in favour of the countess of

Anjou, should be excommunicated, with the exception of herself, who was

sovereign of the Angevins.

I do not say, that this speech was kindly received by all the clergy,

though certainly no one opposed it; for all bridled their tongues

either through fear, or through reverence. There was one layman sent

from the empress, who openly forbade the legate, by the faith which he

had pledged to her, to ordain any thing, in that council, repugnant

to her honour; and said, that he had made oath to the empress, not

to assist his brother, unless, perchance, by sending him twenty

horsemen at the utmost: that her coming to England had been effected

by his frequent letters: that her taking the king, and holding him in

captivity, had been done principally by his connivance. The advocate

affirmed these and many other circumstances, with great harshness of

language, and by no means sparing the legate. However, he could not be

prevailed upon, by any force of argument, to lay aside his animosity:

for, as I have said before, he was an active perseverer in what he had

once taken in hand. This year, therefore, the tragedy of which I have

briefly related, was fatal, and nearly destructive, to England; during

which, though conceiving that she might now, perhaps, experience some

little respite, yet, she became again involved in calamity, and, unless

God’s mercy shall shortly come to her relief, must there long continue.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1142.] ROBERT, EARL OF GLOUCESTER.]

It seems fitting that I should commence the transactions of this year,

which is A.D. 1142, with certain events which were unnoticed in the

former; and, at the same time, briefly recapitulate what has been said,

in various places, of Robert, earl of Gloucester, son of king Henry,

and submit it, thus arranged, to the consideration of the reader. For,

as he was the first to espouse the just defence of his sister, so did

he persevere with unshaken constancy in her cause without remuneration;

I say without remuneration, because some of her supporters, either

following the course of fortune, are changed with its revolutions, or

having already obtained considerable benefits, fight for justice under

expectation of still further recompence: Robert, alone, or nearly

alone, uninfluenced by such considerations, was never swayed, as will

appear hereafter, either by hope of advantage, or fear of loss. Let

no one, therefore, suspect me of adulation, if I relate these matters

circumstantially: for I shall make no sacrifice to favour; but pure

historical truth, without any stain of falsehood, shall be handed down

to the knowledge of posterity.

It has been related of the earl, how, first[568] of all the nobility,

after David, king of Scotland, he confirmed, by oath, his fealty to

his sister, the empress, for the kingdom of England, and the duchy

of Normandy, in the presence of his father Henry. There was some

contention, as I have said, between him and Stephen earl of Boulogne,

afterwards king of England, who should swear first; Robert alleging the

preference of a son, Stephen the dignity of a nephew.

It has been recorded too, what reasonable causes, from December,

when his father died, till after the ensuing Easter, detained him in

Normandy, from coming immediately into England to avenge his sister’s

injuries. And when at last he did come, with what just deliberation,

and with what proviso, he consented to do homage to the king; and how

justly, in the following year, and thenceforward, he abjured it.

Nor has his second arrival in England from Normandy, after his father’s

death, with his sister, been omitted: where, relying on the favour of

God, and his innate courage, he ventured himself, as into a desert full

of wild beasts, though scarcely accompanied by one hundred and forty

horsemen. Neither has it been unnoticed, that, amid such tumult of war,

while anxious watch was kept on all sides, he boldly came to Bristol

with only twelve horsemen, having committed his sister to safe custody,

as he supposed, at Arundel: nor with what prudence, at that time,

he received her from the very midst of her enemies, and afterwards

advanced her in all things to the utmost of his power; ever busied on

her account, and neglecting his own interest to secure hers, while some

persons taking advantage of his absence, curtailed his territories on

every side: and, lastly, urged by what necessity, namely to rescue his

son-in-law, whom the king had besieged, he engaged in a hazardous

conflict, and took the king prisoner. This fortunate event, however,

was somewhat obscured by his own capture at Winchester, as I have

recorded in the transactions of the former year; though by the grace of

God, he showed himself, not so much an object of commiseration, as of

praise, in that capture. For, when he saw that the royalist earls were

so persevering in the pursuit that the business could not be gotten

through without loss on his part, he sent forward all those for whom

he was under apprehension, and more especially the empress. When they

had proceeded far enough to escape in safety, he followed leisurely,

that the retreat might not resemble a flight, and received the attack

of the pursuers himself; thus purchasing, by his own detention, the

liberty of his friends. And now, even at the moment of his capture, no

one, as I have said above, perceived him either dispirited, or humbled

in language: he seemed so far to tower above fortune, that he compelled

his persecutors, for I am loth to call them enemies, to respect him.

Wherefore the queen, though she might have remembered, that her husband

had been fettered by his command, yet never suffered a bond of any

kind to be put upon him, nor presumed on her dignity to treat him

dishonourably. And finally at Rochester, for thither he was conducted,

he went freely whither he pleased, to the churches below the castle,

and conversed with whom he chose, the queen only being present (for

after her departure he was held in free custody in the keep) and so

calm and serene was his mind, that, getting money from his vassals in

Kent, he bought some valuable horses, which were both serviceable and

beneficial to him afterwards.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1142.] EARL ROBERT IN PRISON.]

The earls, and those whose business it was to speak of such matters, at

first, tried if he would allow of the king and himself being liberated

on equal terms. Though his countess, Mabil, out of solicitude for her

beloved husband, would have embraced these terms the moment she heard

them, being, through conjugal affection, bent on his liberation, yet

he, in his wiser policy, refused: asserting that a king and an earl

were not of equal importance; however, if they would allow all who

had been taken with him, or for him, to be set at liberty, to this he

might consent. But the earls and other royalists would not assent to

these terms; they were anxious indeed for the king’s liberty, but not

at their own pecuniary loss: for earl Gilbert had taken William of

Salisbury: and William de Ipres, Humphry de Bohun; and others had made

such captures as they could, at Winchester, greedily expecting large

sums for their ransom.

Next attacking the earl another way, they were anxious to allure him

with magnificent promises, if so they might effect their purpose.

Would he go over to the king’s side, and dismiss his sister, he should

govern the whole country: all things should await his decision: the

crown should be the only distinction between him and the king: over all

others he should rule as he pleased. The earl rejected these unbounded

promises, with a memorable reply, which I wish posterity to hear, and

to admire: “I am not my own master,” said he, “but am in another’s

power; when I shall see myself at my own disposal, I promise to do

every thing which reason dictates on the matter you propound.”

Irritated and incensed at this, when they could do nothing by fair

means, they began to menace, that they would send him over sea to

Boulogne, and keep him in perpetual bondage till death. Still, however,

with a serene countenance, dispelling their threats, he firmly and

truly protested, that he feared nothing less. For he relied on the

spirit of his wife, the countess, and the courage of his partizans, who

would immediately send the king into Ireland, if they heard of any foul

deed perpetrated against himself.

A month elapsed in these transactions; so difficult a work was it

to effect the liberation of princes whom fortune had fettered with

her chain.[569] But, at length, the supporters of the empress having

conferred together, entreated the earl by divers messages, that “as he

could not do what he would,” according to the comic writer, “he would

do what he could:” he should allow therefore, the king and himself to

be set at liberty, on equal terms, “otherwise,” said they, “we fear

lest the earls, inspirited by the consciousness of their great and most

distinguished exploit in making you captive, should attack us one by

one, reduce our castles, and even make an attempt upon your sister.”

Robert, wrought upon at length, assented to the proposal of the legate

and archbishop, but still on condition that none of the castles,

or territory, should be restored, which had come under the power of

the empress or of any of her faithful adherents, since the capture

of the king: but he could not by any means obtain the release of his

friends, as he had given offence to some persons, in rejecting, with

a kind of superciliousness their magnificent promises with respect

to the government of the whole kingdom. And as they were extremely

anxious that, for the royal dignity, the king should be first set at

liberty, and then the earl; when he demurred to this, the legate and

the archbishop made oath, that if the king, after his own liberation,

refused to release the earl, they would forthwith deliver themselves up

into Robert’s power, to be conducted wherever he pleased. Nor did he

rest here; for his sagacious mind discovered an additional security.

It might fall out, that the king, as often happens, listening to

evil counsel, would consider the detention of his brother, and of

the archbishop, as of very little consequence, so that he himself

were at his ease. He demanded, therefore, from them both, separately,

instruments, with their seals, addressed to the pope, to the following

effect; “That the sovereign pope was to understand, that they, for

the liberation of the king and the peace of the kingdom, had bound

themselves to the earl by this covenant, that, if the king refused

to liberate him after his own release, themselves would willingly

surrender to his custody. Should it, therefore, come to this calamitous

issue, they earnestly entreated, what it would well become the papal

goodness voluntarily to perform, that he would release them, who were

his suffragans, as well as the earl, from unjustifiable durance.” There

was something more to the same effect.

These writings, received from either prelate, Robert deposited in a

place of safety, and came to Winchester with them and a great company

of the barons. The king also, as has been before observed, coming

thither soon after, had a friendly interview with the earl. But

although he, and all the earls present, eagerly busied themselves in

bringing over Robert to their wishes, yet, “firm as a rock amid the

ocean” in his resistance, he rendered their attempts abortive, or

refuted them by argument. He affirmed, that, it was neither reasonable

nor natural, that he should desert his sister, whose cause he had

justly espoused, not for any benefit to himself, nor so much out of

dislike to the king, as regard to his oath, which, they also ought to

remember, it was impiety to violate, especially when he called to mind,

that he had been enjoined by the pope to respect the oath he had taken

to his sister in the presence of his father. Thus failing of peace,

they severally departed.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1142.] DESIGNS OF THE EMPRESS.]

The reason why I have not incorporated these events with the

transactions of the former year is that I did not then know them; for

I have always dreaded to transmit anything to posterity, through my

narrative, the truth of which I could not perfectly vouch for. What,

then, I have to relate of the present year will commence as follows.

The respective parties of the empress and of the king, conducted

themselves with quiet forbearance from Christmas to Lent, anxious

rather to preserve their own, than to ravage the possessions of others.

The king went to a distant part of the kingdom for the purpose of

quelling some disturbances. Lent coming on gave all a respite from

war; in the midst of which the empress came with her party to Devizes,

where her secret designs were debated. So much of them, however,

transpired that it was known that all her partizans had agreed to send

for the earl of Anjou, who was most interested in the defence of the

inheritance of his wife and children in England. Men of respectability

were, therefore, despatched and such as might fitly execute a business

of such magnitude. Not long after, nearly on the Easter holidays,

the king, while meditating, as it is said, some harsh measures, was

detained by an acute disease at Northampton; so severe, indeed, that

he was reported, almost throughout England, as being at the point of

death. His sickness continued till after Pentecost, when returning

health gradually restored him. In the meantime, the messengers

returning from Anjou, related the result of their mission to the

empress and the princes in a second council, held at Devizes on the

octaves of Pentecost. They said that the earl of Anjou in some measure

favoured the mission of the nobility, but that among them all he was

only well acquainted with the earl of Gloucester, of whose prudence and

fidelity, greatness of mind and industry, he had long since had proof.

Were he to make a voyage to him he would, as far as he was able, accede

to his wishes: but that all other persons would expend their labour in

passing and repassing to no purpose.

The hopes of all the assembly being thus excited, they entreated that

the earl would condescend to undertake this task on account of the

inheritance of his sister and of his nephews. At first he excused

himself, alleging the difficulty of the business, the perilous journey,

beset with enemies on either side of the sea; that it would be attended

with danger to his sister, as in his absence those persons would be

hardly able to defend her, who, distrusting even the strength of their

own party, had nearly deserted her during his captivity. Yielding at

length to the general desire, he demanded hostages, especially from

those who were considered as the chief persons, to be taken with

him into Normandy, and to be pledges, as well to the earl of Anjou

as to the empress; and that all, continuing at Oxford, should unite

in defending her from injury to the utmost while he was absent. His

propositions were eagerly approved, and hostages given him to be

conducted into Normandy.

Robert, therefore, bidding adieu to his sister, and taking with him his

hostages and some light troops, proceeded by safe marches to Wareham,

which town and castle he had long since entrusted to his eldest son

William. There, soon after the festival of St. John, committing

himself, by the grace of God, to the ocean, with such vessels as he

then possessed, he weighed anchor. When they were about mid-sea, a

tempest arising, all except two were dispersed; some were driven back,

and some carried beyond their destination. Two only, in one of which

was the earl with his most faithful adherents, keeping their course,

arrived in the wished-for port. Proceeding thus to Caen, he sent

messengers for the earl of Anjou. The earl came without reluctance,

but stated his difficulties, and those not a few, to the object of the

embassy when proposed to him; among others that he should be detained

from coming into England by the rebellion of many castles in Normandy.

This circumstance delayed the earl of Gloucester’s return longer than

he had intended: for, that he might deprive the earl of Anjou of every

evasion, he assisted him in subduing ten castles in Normandy. The

names of which were Tenerchebrei, Seithilaret, Brichesart, Alani,

Bastenborg, Triveres, Castel de Vira, Placeit, Vilers, Moreton. Yet

even by this activity, he furthered the end of his mission but little.

The earl of Anjou stated fresh causes, as the former were done away,

to excuse his coming into England. Indeed, as a very singular favour,

he permitted his eldest son, by the empress, to accompany his uncle to

England, by whose presence the chiefs might be encouraged to defend

the cause of the lawful heir. The youth is named Henry, after his

grandfather; may he hereafter resemble him in happiness and in power.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1142.] RETURN OF THE EARL OF GLOUCESTER.]

In England, in the meantime, the king seizing the opportunity of the

earl’s absence came unexpectedly to Wareham, and finding it slightly

garrisoned, he burned and plundered the town, and immediately got

possession of the castle also. Not content with this, as he saw fortune

inclined to favour him, three days before the festival of St. Michael,

by an unexpected chance,[570] he burned the city of Oxford, and laid

siege to the castle, in which was the empress with her domestic guards.

This he did with such determined resolution, that he declared no hope

of advantage or fear of loss should induce him to depart till the

castle was delivered up, and the empress surrendered to his power.

Shortly after, all the nobility of the empress’s party, ashamed of

being absent from their sovereign in violation of their compact,

assembled in large bodies at Wallingford, with the determination of

attacking the king if he would risk a battle in the open plain; but

they had no intention of assailing him within the city, as Robert

earl of Gloucester had so fortified it with ditches that it appeared

impregnable unless by fire.

These rumours becoming prevalent in Normandy, Robert hastened his

return. He embarked, therefore, somewhat more than three, but less

than four hundred horsemen, on board fifty-two vessels; to these

were added two which he took at sea on his return. God’s grace so

singularly favoured his pious resolution that not one ship, out of

so great a number, was separated, but all nearly close together, or

gently proceeding one before the other, ploughed the calm bosom of the

deep. Nor did the waves violently dash against the fleet, but rather

seemed subserviently to further their passage, like that most beautiful

appearance at sea when the wave gradually approaching gently breaks

upon the shore. Thus making the port of Wareham, these favoured vessels

restored the earl and all his companions to the wishes of their friends.

He had at first thought of landing at Southampton, at once to wreak

his vengeance both on its inhabitants and on their lord: but this

resolution was changed through the repeated entreaties of the Vituli,

who were fearful that their dearest connexions, who resided at

Southampton, would be involved in the general calamity. These are a

kind of mariners, who are known by the name of Vituli; and as they are

his faithful adherents he thought fit to listen to their petitions,

and desist from his design. Again, it appeared more dignified to

return to the place whence he had departed, and to recover by force

what he had lost by a similar mode. Reducing, therefore, immediately

the port and town, he laid siege to the castle, which by its strength

stimulated the spirit, not to call it obstinacy, of those of the

king’s choicest troops who defended it. Yet, nevertheless, soon after,

the garrison, shaken in their resolution by the engines of the earl,

and greatly alarmed, begged a truce, that, as is the custom of the

military, they might demand assistance from the king, consenting to

deliver up the castle if he refused to come by a certain day. This,

though he was possessed with the utmost impatience to become master of

the fortress, was very agreeable to the earl, as it led him to suppose

it might draw off Stephen from besieging his sister. We may imagine

what firmness of mind this man possessed who, with little more than

three hundred horsemen, and as yet joined by no succours in England,

could undauntedly await the king, who was reported to have more than a

thousand; for many persons had joined the siege, not so much through

dislike to the empress as through the hope of plunder.

However, when it was certified that the king, from that resolution

which I have before mentioned, refused assistance to the besieged at

Wareham, the earl obtained the castle, and with the same attack subdued

the island of Portland, which they had fortified, as well as a third

castle, called Lullewarden, which belonged to a certain chamberlain,

called William of Glastonbury, who had lately revolted from the

empress. Robert then, at the beginning of Advent, summoned the whole of

Matilda’s partisans to Cirencester: where all resolving to afford their

sovereign every possible assistance, they meditated a march to Oxford;

courageously determining to give the king battle, unless he retreated.

But as they were on their route, the pleasing account reached them,

that the empress had escaped from the blockaded castle at Oxford, and

was now at Wallingford in security. Turning aside thither, then, at the

suggestion of their sovereign, since the soldiers who had remained at

her departure, after delivering up the castle, had gone away without

molestation, and the holidays admonished them to repose awhile, they

resolved to abstain from battle, and retired to their homes.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1142.] ESCAPE OF THE EMPRESS.]

I would very willingly subjoin the manner of the empress’s liberation,

did I know it to a certainty; for it is undoubtedly one of God’s

manifest miracles. This, however, is sufficiently notorious, that,

through fear of the earl’s approach, many of the besiegers at Oxford

stole away wherever they were able, and the rest remitted their

vigilance, and kept not so good a look out as before; more anxious

for their own safety, in case it came to a battle, than bent on the

destruction of others.[571] This circumstance being remarked by the

townsmen, the empress, with only four soldiers, made her escape through

a small postern, and passed the river. Afterwards, as necessity

sometimes, and indeed, almost always, discovers means and ministers

courage, she went to Abingdon on foot, and thence reached Wallingford

on horse-back. But this I purpose describing more fully, if, by God’s

permission, I shall ever learn the truth of it from those who were

present.

INDEX.

Adultery, punished in Old Saxony, 74.

Ælla founds the kingdom of Sussex, 92.

Aimar, bishop of Puy, 363, 365.

Alcuin, 62;

his epistles, 66, 79, 84.

Aldhelm, abbat of Malmesbury, 29;

made bishop of Sherborne, 35.

Aldred, abp. of York, crowns William I, 281.

Aldrey, William de, account of, 340.

Alexander, bp. of Lincoln, imprisoned, 500.

Alexius I, emperor of Constantinople, 365.

Alfwold, king of Northumbria, 68.

Alfred, king of England, anointed by pope Leo, 99;

ascends the throne, 113;

retires to Athelney, ib.;

assumes the garb of a minstrel, 114;

routs the Danes, 116;

his personal bravery, 117;

his children, ib.;

founds various monasteries, 118;

his love of literature, ib.;

dies, 121.

Alfred, the son of Ethelred, 207.

Alfrid, king of Northumbria, 52.

Alla, king of Northumbria, 41.

Almodis, countess of Toulouse, 416.

Ambrosius, monarch of Britain, 11.

Analaf, 129, 136;

created king by the Northumbrians, 141.

Angles and Saxons invited from Germany, 7;

arrive in Britain, 8.

Angle-School at Rome, 99.

Anjou, earls of, account of, 265.

Anjou, Geoffrey earl of, account of, 261.

Anlaf, king of Norway, baptized, 168.

Anselm, abp. of Canterbury, quits the kingdom, 338;

recalled, 428;

his contest with king Henry, 448.

Anschetil, a Norman nobleman, 144.

Antioch, description and siege of, 378-382.

Aoxianus, governor of Antioch, 379, 381.

Arbrisil, Robert de, account of, 471.

Architecture, new style of at Westminster, 55;

at Salisbury and Malmesbury, 442.

Armorica or Bretagne, British settlement of, 6.

Arthur assists Ambrosius, 11;

his sepulchre never found, 315.

Asia Minor, its ancient fruitfulness, 377.

Ass, a man transformed into one, 180.

Asser, bishop of Sherborne, account of, 118.

Assingdon, consecration of church at, 198.

Athelard, abp. of Canterbury, 82.

Athelstan, king of Mercia, 128-140.

Athelwold, the confidant of Edgar, 159.

Augustine, St., converts the king of Kent to Christianity, 12, 26.

See Joscelyn.

Azotus, siege of, 405.

Babylon in Egypt, formerly Taphnis, 390.

Badon, Mount, siege of, 11.

Bayeux, city of, burned, 433.

Baldred, king of Kent, 17;

expelled, 96.

Baldwin I, king of Jerusalem, 395-412.

Baldwin II, king of Jerusalem, 412.

Baldwin, earl of Flanders, 206.

Balista, what, 380.

Ballads, ancient historical, 138, 148, 315.

Balso the Short, story of, 145.

Bangor, monastery of, 44.

Battles at Aylesford, 194;

Antioch, 382;

Ascalon, 391;

Assingdon, 194;

Bensington, 38;

Bruneford or Brumby, 129;

Degstan, 43;

Dol, 291;

Eschendun, 111;

Gerborai, 291;

Hastings, 257, 276, 280;

Hellendun, 96;

Penn, near Gillingham, 193;

Sceorstan, ib.;

Standford-bridge, 256;

Tenersebray, 433;

Walesdun, 260;

Witgeornesbrug, 20;

Wodensdike, 19.

Battle abbey, founded by William I, 300.

Bede, Venerable, 3, 54, 56, 59.

Belesme, Robert de, 430, 433.

Benedict Biscop, founder of Wearmouth, 54.

Benignus, St. 25;

his epitaph, ib.

Berefreid, what, 388.

Berengar of Tours, account of, 311.

Bernard, abbat of Tyron, account of, 471.

Bernard, the monk, 385.

Bernicia, kingdom of, 46.

Bernulph, king of Mercia, 87, 96.

Berthwulf, king of Mercia, expelled, 88.

Bertric, king of Wessex, 40;

expels Egbert, 95;

poisoned, 106.

Bethlehem, church of St. Mary, at, 383.

Bezants, money so called, 372, 406.

Bishoprics, extinct or consolidated, 78.

Extent of, 92;

removal of, 78, 352;

precedence of, 22.

Bishops, seven, story of, 127, 128.

Blois, Theobald earl of, 438.

Blois, Henry de, bishop of Winton, and legate, 501;

his treaty with the empress Maud, 517;

holds a council at Winton, 518;

his quarrel with the empress, 523.

Blois, Stephen earl of, joins the crusade, 366, 408;

killed at Ramula, 410.

Blood, its physical effects, 361;

shower of, 67.

Boamund, his design in urging the crusade, 356, 365;

account of, 413.

Boniface, archbishop of Mentz, 73.

Boy, Jewish, legendary story of, 314.

Bracelets exposed by Alfred on highways, 118.

Briget, St. 25.

Britons, avarice and rapine of, 67.

Britons, western, or Cornwallish, 134.

Brithwin, bishop of Wilton, 247.