The Norman Kings. (1087-1154.)
William Rufus
Henry I.
Stephen.
William Rufus had not yet set sail from Wissant, near Calais,
when he received intelligence of the death of his father. He kept
the news secret; and obtained possession of several important
places on the pretext of orders which he had received from the
deceased king. It was not until he had helped himself freely to
the treasure of the Conqueror at Winchester, and had made
arrangements with the Archbishop Lanfranc, that he proclaimed the
death of his father and his own claim to the crown. The bishop
had been careful to administer to the king an oath binding him to
observe the laws before consenting to give him his support; but
oaths cost little to William. Scarcely had he been declared king
by a council of barons and prelates, hurriedly assembled on the
26th of September, 1087, than he violated his original
engagements, and cast the Saxon prisoners, whom his father had
liberated on his death-bed, again into prisons, together with his
Norman captives.
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The new monarch would have acted more wisely if he had decided on
a directly opposite course. Scarcely had the Bishop of Bayeux and
his companions in captivity been set at liberty than they placed
themselves at the head of the malcontents. The great barons all
possessed fiefs in Normandy and in England: the separation of the
two States, therefore, displeased them. Many of them resolved to
depose William in order to secure to Robert an undivided paternal
inheritance. In consequence of their manœuvres a serious
insurrection broke out simultaneously in several parts of
England. Robert Curthose had promised to support his partisans
with a Norman army, and already some small bodies of troops had
put to sea, confident of meeting with no resistance on the part
of the king, who was without a fleet. William Rufus took his
measures, and called round him that English nation which his
father had scarcely subjected. "Let him who is not a man of
nothing, either in the towns or in the country, leave his home
and come." Such was the proclamation in all the counties
according to the ancient Saxon custom. The Saxons obeyed: thirty
thousand men assembled round King William., while the merchant
ships, already numerous, were cruising in the Channel and
destroying, one after the other, the little flotillas which were
bringing over the Normans. Bishop Odo had fortified himself in
Rochester: the king attacked him there with his Saxon army, and
would have compelled him to surrender at discretion, if the
Normans who had remained faithful to William had not interceded
on his behalf. "We assisted thee in the time of danger," said
they; "we beg thee now to spare our fellow-countrymen; our
relations, who are also thine, and who aided thy father to
possess himself of England." The king consented to allow the
garrison to march out with arms and baggage; but the arrogant
prelate demanded that the trumpets should not celebrate his
defeat. "I would not consent for a thousand marks of gold,"
exclaimed William angrily, and above the sound of the trumpets
arose the cries of the Saxons. "Bring us a halter that we may
hang this traitor bishop and his accomplices. O king, why do you
allow him to retire thus safe and sound?"
{119}
Odo returned to Normandy, Duke Robert negotiated with his
brother, and the Saxons had already lost the advantages which
William had accorded or promised to them in order to secure their
co-operation. Lanfranc was dead: and the oppression had become
more burdensome, the exactions more odious since his influence
had disappeared. The king delayed long to appoint his successor,
taking himself possession of the rich domains and revenues of the
diocese of Canterbury in contempt of ecclesiastical pretensions.
He had for minister and confidant a Norman priest, Ralph
Flambard, whom he had made Bishop of Lincoln, and whose tyranny
was so great that the inhabitants of his diocese, says the
chronicle, "desired his death rather than live under his power."
The hereditary passion of King William for the chase, and the
rigor of the forest laws, were among the most frequent causes of
persecution. "The guardian of the forests and the pastor of the
wild beasts," as the Saxons called him, "took advantage of the
least offence against his tyrannical ordinances to crush the
thanes, who had preserved some remains of power." Fifty Saxons of
considerable influence were accused of having taken, killed, and
eaten deer. They denied the charge, and the Norman judges
compelled them to undergo the ordeal of red hot iron; but their
hands were untouched. When the fact was announced to the king he
burst into laughter. "What matters that?" said he; "God is no
good judge of such matters; it is I who am most concerned in such
affairs, and I will judge these fellows." The chronicle does not
say what became of the poor Saxons.
{120}
Several times war had broken out between William and his brother
Robert. Rufus had conceived the hope of expelling Curthose from
Normandy. He had numerous partisans on the Continent, and but for
the support of the king of France, and the alliance with his
brother Henry, Curthose must soon have succumbed. But in 1096,
after a great insurrection in England, and at the moment when
King William, triumphant over internal commotions, was probably
about to renew his attacks upon Normandy, Duke Robert, seized
with a passion for the Crusades, which were beginning then to
agitate Christendom, suddenly proposed to his brother to mortgage
his duchy for some years for a large sum of money which would
enable him to equip troops and to set out with éclat for the
East. The coffers of the king were no better filled than were
those of the duke, but he was more skilful in replenishing them
at the expense of his subjects. The monasteries and the churches
were taxed like the Saxons. "Have you not coffers of gold and
silver filled with the bones of the dead?" exclaimed Rufus, and
he laid his hand upon the shrines containing the reliques. Robert
received the sums agreed upon and set out joyfully for Palestine,
while William crossed into Normandy, and without meeting
resistance took possession of the duchy, where he already
possessed numerous fortresses. Maine alone exhibited repugnance,
and a revolt broke out there in 1100 while the Red King was
enjoying the chase in England, in the hunting-grounds created by
his father, which bear to this day the name of the New Forest. He
set out instantly for the Continent. His nobles begged him to
take time to assemble his forces. "No, no," replied Rufus, "I
know the country and shall soon have men enough," and he jumped
aboard the first vessel which he met with, in spite of the
violence of the wind. "Did you ever hear of a king being
drowned?" he said to the sailors who were hesitating to set sail;
and he arrived safe and sound at Barfleur. The rumor of his
coming terrified the lord of La Flêche, who was the leader of the
insurrection; he abandoned the siege of Le Mans and took to
flight. The domains of the enemy were soon ravaged, and Rufus
returned to England.
{121}
Sinister rumors were circulating among the Saxons with regard to
the royal forests. One of the sons of William the Conqueror had
wounded himself mortally in chasing the deer in the New Forest.
In the month of May, 1100, the son of Duke Robert, on a visit to
his uncle, was killed there by an arrow. People said that Satan
appeared to the Normans and announced the sinister end which
awaited them; but the Red King continued to devote himself to the
chase.
It was the 1st of August. He had passed the night at Malwood
Keep, a castle used as a hunting-seat in the very heart of the
forest. His brother Henry, with whom he had become reconciled,
was with him. A numerous suite accompanied him, among whom was
one of the private friends of William, a great hunter like
himself, one Walter Tyrrel, a French nobleman, who possessed
large estates in Poix and Ponthieu. During the night the king had
been agitated by terrible dreams: he had been heard to invoke
"the name of Our Lady, which was not his custom;" but he seemed
to have forgotten all this and was preparing cheerfully for the
fatigues and pleasures of the day. While he was putting on his
buskins a workman approached and presented him with six new
arrows. He examined them, and taking four for himself, gave the
two others to Walter Tyrrel, with the remark, "The good marksman
should have the good weapons." As he was breakfasting with a good
appetite, one of the monks of the abbey of St. Peter at
Gloucester brought him letters from his abbot. During the night
one of the brethren had been tormented with dismal visions.
{122}
He had seen Jesus Christ seated upon His throne, and at His feet
a woman supplicating him on behalf of the human beings who were
groaning under the yoke of William. The king laughed at the omen.
"Do they take me for an Englishman," said he, "with their dreams?
Do they think I am one of those idiots who abandon their course
or their affairs because an old woman chances to dream or sneeze?
Come, Walter de Poix! To horse!"
The hunting party had dispersed over the forest: Walter Tyrrel
alone remained with the king. Their dogs hunted in company. Both
were in search of prey when a great stag, disturbed by the
commotion, unexpectedly passed between the king and his
companion. William immediately drew his bow: the string of his
weapon broke, and the arrow did not shoot. The stag had stopped,
surprised by the noise, but not perceiving the hunters. The king
had made a sign to Tyrrel, but he did not draw his bow. The king
became angry. "Shoot, Walter!" he exclaimed; "Shoot, in the
devil's name!" An arrow flew, no doubt that of Tyrrel; but
instead of striking the stag it buried itself in the breast of
the king. He fell without uttering a word. Walter ran to him and
found him dead. Fear or remorse seized upon Tyrrel; he mounted
his horse again and galloping to the sea coast, got aboard a
vessel, passed into Normandy, and did not rest until he had taken
refuge upon the territory of the king of France.
The news of this accident had become known in the forest; but no
one gave a thought to the dead body of the king. Henry had
hastened to Winchester, and had already put his hand upon the
keys of the Royal Treasury when William of Breteuil joined him
out of breath. "We have all," he said, "thou as well as I and the
barons, sworn fidelity and homage to Duke Robert thy brother if
the king should die first. Absent or present, right is right."
[Image]
Death Of William Rufus.
{123}
A quarrel ensued, and it was with sword in hand that Henry
possessed himself of the treasure and the royal jewels. Meanwhile
a charcoal-burner, who had found the corpse of the monarch in the
forest, was bringing it to Winchester wrapped in old linen, and
leaving on the road behind the cart a long trail of blood.
The partisans of Robert in England were not numerous; they had no
leader. The duke was returning from Palestine, but he had stopped
on the way with the hospitable Normans, sons of Robert Guiscard,
established in Calabria and in Sicily. He had even married there.
Henry meantime had taken his measures and had caused himself to
be proclaimed there by the barons assembled in London. The
Archbishop of Canterbury, Anselm, had been expelled from England
three years previously; the archbishopric of York was vacant. It
was the custom of Rufus to delay as long as possible appointing
to the sees, in order that he might himself enjoy their revenues.
The Bishop of London crowned the new monarch. Henry Beau-Clerc,
as he was called, because he was fond of books and of churchmen,
became king under the title of Henry the First.
Henry was more popular among the Saxons than his two brothers had
been. Born and bred in England, he was regarded as an Englishman,
and his first care was to address himself to the English, who
were more powerful than is generally believed, and who after all
still formed the mass of the people of the country. "Friends and
vassals," said he, "natives of the country in which I was born,
you know that my brother has designs upon my kingdom. He is a
proud man, who cannot live in peace: his only wish is to trample
you under his feet.
{124}
On the other hand I, as a mild and pacific sovereign, intend to
maintain your ancient liberties and to govern you according to
your own wishes with wisdom and moderation. I will give you, if
you wish it, a record in my own hand. Stand firm for me; for
while I am seconded by the valor of the English I have no fear of
the foolish menaces of the Normans."
While the king was thus giving to the English a first charter,
which proved of short duration, he determined to seal his
promises by espousing a Saxon woman. He had cast his eyes on
Matilda, daughter of Malcolm, king of Scotland, and of Margaret
Atheling. Matilda had been reared in a convent in England by her
aunt Christina Atheling, the abbess. The young girl hesitated:
she had already been sought in marriage by several noblemen, and
it was repugnant to her to unite herself with the enemy of her
race and country. The Normans were irritated to see their king
seeking support among their enemies, and they spread the report
that Matilda had taken the vows as a nun in her infancy. It was
necessary to convoke the Bishops to decide the question. Anselm,
archbishop of Canterbury, (afterwards St. Anselm) had returned to
England. He had always been just towards the Saxons. When his
patron and friend Lanfranc was ridiculing in his presence the
Saxon devotion to St. Alphege, the archbishop who was massacred
by the Danes, Anselm had said, "For myself I regard that man as a
martyr, and a true martyr. He preferred to face death rather than
to do a wrong to his countrymen. He died for justice, as John
died for the truth, and each alike for Christ, who is truth and
justice." At the head of his bishops and on the personal
testimony of Matilda, Anselm declared that she had never been
consecrated to God, and the marriage took place. The queen was
beautiful, charitable, and virtuous; but she exercised little
influence over her husband, and was not able to prevent his often
oppressing the people.
{125}
Henry had banished the favorites of his brother, who were odious
to the Saxons, and Ralph Flambard, who had been a prisoner in the
Tower, had scarcely escaped from that fortress, when he heard
that Duke Robert had arrived in Normandy with his young wife
Sibylla, daughter of the Count of Conversano. King Henry was
greatly disquieted by the news. He had been careful to spread
abroad the report that his brother had accepted the crown of
Jerusalem, a worthy prize of his exploits in the Holy Land. The
discontent of a certain number of Norman barons, and their
disposition to offer their aid to Robert, compelled him more and
more to depend upon the English as well as on the Church. He paid
court to Anselm, and when Robert, encouraged by Ralph Flambard,
published his declaration of war, the bishops and the common
people of England were all on the side of King Henry. The Norman
barons were divided, and the Saxon sailors, carried away no doubt
by the fame which Robert had acquired in the Crusades, deserted
with the fleet. It was in vessels constructed by his brother that
Robert crossed with his army to English soil.
Duke Robert was undecided and wanting in settled character, but
he was brave, and his affection for his family had resisted the
disunion which had so long prevailed among these three brothers.
Long before, when in company with William Rufus he was besieging
their younger brother, now King Henry, but then only an
adventurer without lands, who had seized upon Mont St. Michael,
the supply of water had failed in the fortress, and the besieged
prince sent to ask permission to obtain some. Robert consented,
to the great vexation of William; he even sent to Henry wine for
his table. "There is nothing now left to do but to send him
provisions," said William moodily.
{126}
"What!" exclaimed the duke, "ought I to let our brother die of
thirst? and what other brother should we have if we lost him?"
Scarcely had Robert set foot in England when those among the
Normans who were averse to war interposed between the two
brothers. Once more Robert renounced his pretensions to the
kingdom conquered by his father. Henry ceded to him the
fortresses which he still held in Normandy, and promised to pay
him a pension of 3000 marks of silver. A general amnesty was
agreed upon on both sides.
Treaties, however, were scarcely more effectual than charters in
binding King Henry. By degrees the barons who had taken the side
of Robert were expelled from their domains and banished from
England. The chief of all, Robert of Belesme, earl of Shrewsbury,
had given ground of dissatisfaction by raising his standard when
he had been called on to appear before the royal tribunal.
Besieged in Bridgnorth, he had friends in the royal camp who
sought to reconcile him with the king. "Do not listen to them.
King Henry," cried the English infantry, "they are desirous of
drawing you into a snare. We arc here and will aid thee, and will
assault the town for thee. Make no peace with the traitor till
you secure him alive or dead." Henry pushed on with the siege;
Bridgnorth was taken, and Robert of Belesme, an exile, passed
over into Normandy, where he possessed thirty castles and vast
domains, which Duke Robert, faithful to the treaty, had begun to
ravage as soon as he saw the Earl of Shrewsbury in revolt against
his sovereign. In his chagrin at seeing the amnesty promised in
his name to the barons violated, Robert went himself to England,
placing himself defenceless in the hands of his brother in order
to intercede for his friends.
{127}
He even made a present to Queen Matilda of 1000 marks of silver a
year, part of the 3000 marks which her husband had engaged to pay
him. He obtained only vague promises, and from the year 1104 the
resolution of King Henry to possess himself of Normandy began
again to show itself clearly.
Robert had lost his wife, and disorder reigned in his court. He
was still in want of money; affairs were unsettled, and Normandy
was suffering all the evils of a weak and capricious government.
Henry openly declared himself the protector of the duchy against
the maladministration of his brother. "I will give thee money,"
he wrote to him, "but yield to me the land. Thou hast the title
of chief, but in reality thou rulest no longer, for those who owe
thee obedience ridicule thee." Robert refused this proposal with
indignation, and Henry began his preparations for invading
Normandy with an armed force.
The wars were always a cruel burden for the people; the levies of
money necessary for the equipment of soldiers were ruinous to the
poor citizens and the unfortunate peasants. Before the departure
of Henry for Normandy crowds of country people presented
themselves on the road by which the king passed, casting at his
feet their ploughshares in token of distress. Nevertheless the
king set out and met his brother at Tinchebrai, not far from
Mortagne. The struggle was fierce. The military talents of Robert
were much superior to those of his brother, but his army was less
considerable, and there were traitors in the camp. In the very
heat of the contest Robert of Belesme took to flight with his
division. The duke was made prisoner, and his forces were
completely defeated. Henry at the same time seized Edgar
Atheling, once the legitimate pretender to the crown, the uncle
of Queen Matilda. In consideration of these facts he was allowed
his liberty in England, and received from the king a small
pension, which enabled him to end his days in such complete
obscurity that we are even ignorant of the date of his death.
{128}
Duke Robert was not fated to enjoy a captivity so mild. He had
suffered defeat on the 14th of October, 1106, the anniversary of
the day when forty years previously his father had won the battle
of Hastings. "God thus disposing," says the Chronicle, "that
Normandy became subject to England on the same day that England
had become subject to Normandy." Ralph Flambard had regained his
bishopric of Durham by giving up to the king the town and
fortress of Lisieux; but Robert had been conveyed to England, and
lodged in the castle of Cardiff, in Wales, which had recently
been conquered by the Normans. He enjoyed there a certain amount
of liberty, and hunted in the surrounding forest. One day he
leaped upon his horse and took to flight. He was not well
acquainted with the way; his horse sank into a bog. He was
captured and taken back to his prison. When the king was
acquainted with this attempt at escape, he ordered that the
prisoner's eyes should be burnt out by means of a bason of
red-hot iron. The captivity of the unhappy duke became complete;
but his robust constitution withstood all these misfortunes. He
lived twenty-eight years in his prison, blind and alone, without
news of the son whom he had left a child in Normandy, and
preserving to the last the dignified pride of his race. One day
some new clothes were brought to him from the king; Robert
handled them and discovered that one of them was unript at the
seam. He was told that Henry had tried on the doublet and had
found it too small for him. The duke threw all the clothes to a
distance, exclaiming, "So then my brother, or rather my traitor,
that cowardly clerk who has dismembered and deprived me of sight,
holds me now in such contempt--I who was once held in such honor
and renown--that he makes me alms of his old clothes as to a
valet!"
{129}
Robert was nearly eighty years of age when he died in 1135, some
months before his brother, King Henry. He had survived in his
captivity and suffering almost all the chief warriors with whom
he had fought before Jerusalem.
Robert had, however, a son, William Cliton, or as they soon
afterwards called him, William of Normandy; but the boy was only
seven years old when his uncle, finding himself in possession of
the whole of Normandy, began to besiege Valaise, where he was
under guard. No one thought of declaring himself in favor of the
little prince. He was taken and conducted to the king. The child
cried and asked for mercy; he had reason to tremble, for his life
was a great obstacle to the repose of his uncle. But making a
violent effort to banish evil thoughts, the king desired to
remove the little William from his presence, and he confided him
to a faithful servant of his household, Helie of St. Saen.
Sometime afterwards the king had changed his mind and desired to
take back the little prince, but Helie carried him off secretly,
and both took refuge at the court of the king of France, Louis
the Fat. He was there growing up when King Henry was marrying his
daughter Matilda, aged eight years, to Henry III., Emperor of
Germany. The marriage of an eldest daughter was one of those
occasions which gave the right to the feudal lord to levy taxes
from their vassals, and King Henry used this right in such a way
that the whole English people groaned under the burden. The
splendor of the retinue which accompanied the little princess on
her departure from England was soon forgotten; but when she
returned to her native land people still remembered the tears
which her marriage had cost.
{130}
King Louis VI. had promised William Cliton the investiture of
Normandy, when in 1113 war again broke out between France and
England. It lasted for two years, and all the castles on the
frontiers were captured from Henry. His able diplomacy procured
him in 1115 an advantageous treaty, which assured to prince
William of England the hand of Matilda of Anjou, daughter of the
Count Fulke. No one thought of reserving the rights of William
Cliton over Normandy, and when the great Norman barons were
convoked in 1117 to take the oath of allegiance to Prince
William, no claim was advanced in favor of the exile. His uncle
had made an attempt to entice him into England, promising him the
gift of three large counties; but the young man was not willing
to trust himself to his father's jailor, and we meet with him
again in 1119 at the head of a confederation formed on the
Continent against King Henry. At the battle of Brenville, which
preceded by some years the close of a war of mingled success and
disaster, William Cliton, or FitzRobert as he was often called,
penetrated into the presence of his uncle; but his knights were
repulsed, and the marriage of Prince William with Matilda of
Anjou, celebrated sumptuously in 1120, destroyed the hopes which
his cousin had conceived. King Louis accepted the homage of
Normandy represented by the son of the king of England, thus
sparing the regal pride of Henry. The policy of this prince
prevailed: he resolved to return in triumph to England, and on
the 25th of November, 1120, he prepared to set sail from the
little port of Barfleur, when a mariner well known upon that
coast advanced towards him, presenting a mark of gold. "Stephen,
son of Erard, my father served yours on the sea," said he, "and
it was he who steered the vessel aboard which your father sailed
for the conquest. Sire king, I entreat you to grant me in fief
the same office. I have a vessel called the _Blanchenef_,
well fitted out."
{131}
The king's ship was already prepared; he promised Stephen to give
him as passengers the Prince William and his sister, Lady Mary,
countess of Perche. The _Blanchenef_ was a large vessel.
Three hundred persons went aboard her as he set sail. The king
had preceded them on the sea, but Thomas FitzStephen was proud of
the fast sailing of his vessel, and made no haste to depart,
thinking to overtake the squadron without difficulty. There was
dancing and drinking upon the poop of the vessel: all the company
were excited when at length they set out. Night had come on; the
moon had risen; the wind was fresh. They advanced rapidly, for
the sailors lent aid with the oars. They were coasting, when
suddenly the ship struck upon a rock at the level of the water,
then called the _Raz de Catte,_ now the _Raz de
Catteville_. The _Blanchenef's_ planks were opened by the
shock, and she began to fill with water. The cry of terror which
arose from those aboard reached the vessel of the king, sailing
at a considerable distance; but no one understood the cause of
the noise. Henry disembarked quietly. His children had launched a
boat on the sea; and Prince William had entered it with some of
his companions, but the cries of his sister, the Lady Mary,
induced him to return to the foundering vessel; he had nearly
rescued her when the other passengers, driven wild with despair,
sprang in a mass into the feeble skiff, which immediately
disappeared with all its occupants. The vessel sank almost at the
same instant. Two men only clung to the mast, a butcher of Rouen
and a young nobleman named Gilbert de Laigle.
{132}
For a moment the head of Thomas FitzStephen appeared above the
waves. "What has become of the king's son?" he cried to the two
survivors. "He has disappeared with his sister, and every one
with him," they replied. "Unhappy me!" exclaimed the pilot, as he
plunged again into the waves. Gilbert's hands were frozen; he
relaxed his hold of the mast which supported him and was drowned
before the eyes of his companion, who was well wrapped in his
sheepskin and hardened against the effects of rough weather. He
held out until the morning, and was rescued by some fishermen on
the coast. From his lips they learned the news of the disaster
which had befallen the _Blanchenef's_. In England they did
not dare to apprise King Henry, who was awaiting the arrival of
his children. At length a boy presented himself before him and
cast himself at his feet. Henry assisted him to rise, and the
child related the story of the wreck of the Norman vessel. "And
from that time the king was never seen to smile," say the
chroniclers, without, however, expending any more tenderness over
the fate of Prince William, whose pride and harshness had caused
apprehensions in England. "If I ever come to reign over these
miserable Saxons," he was accustomed to say, "I will compel them
to draw the plough like oxen." "So he perished on a quiet night
and in calm weather," repeated the Saxons; "and it came to pass
that his head, instead of being encircled by a crown of gold, was
broken upon the rocks. It was God himself who decreed that the
son of the Norman should not behold England again."
King Henry had no male heir, although he had married again with
the daughter of the duke of Louvain. Many of the barons seemed
inclined to rally round William FitzRobert, who had lately
excited another revolt. Henry resolved to settle the crown upon
his daughter, the Empress Maud, who had lately become a widow.
{133}
All the ability of the king could not prevent at first a feeling
of repugnance among the great nobles: but the royal power had
become very great, supported as it was by the antagonism of two
hostile races between whom the king alone held the balance. The
Normans yielded. On Christmas Day, 1126, the Empress Maud was
declared heiress to the kingdom, and six months later she married
Geoffrey Plantagenet, [Footnote 2] son of Fulke, count of Anjou,
whose father had transferred to him his domains on setting out
for the Holy Land. Maud had for some time resisted the plans of
her father for her marriage, which had been kept so secret that
the barons protested, maintaining that the king had not the right
to dispose without their approval of their future sovereign. The
nuptial festivities lasted three weeks. Heralds, armed and in
magnificent costume, traversed the streets and squares of Rouen,
crying aloud, "In the name of King Henry, let no man here
present, inhabitant or stranger, dare to absent himself from the
royal rejoicings; for whosoever shall not take part in the
amusements and games shall be deemed guilty of offence towards
his lord the king."
[Footnote 2: So named because he was accustomed to wear in
his hat a branch of genet or broom (Planta genista) in
blossom.]
Henry had obtained the oaths of all the barons, but he had too
much sense and knowledge of human nature not to be aware how
precarious the future situation of his daughter must be if his
nephew, William FitzRobert, should live to dispute the throne.
The young prince appeared, indeed, to be destined to a brilliant
future. King Louis had brought about a marriage between him and
the sister of his wife, a princess of Savoy, and he had given to
her for a portion Pontoise, Chaumont, and the Vexin. Soon
afterwards Charles the Good, count of Flanders, was assassinated
in the church at the foot of the altar.
{134}
Louis entered Flanders for the purpose of punishing the
murderers, and the count not having left any children, Louis
conferred his domains upon William FitzRobert, great grandson of
the old Count Baldwin. The young count, who remained in his new
territory, had soon a cause of quarrel with a certain number of
his subjects, who called the king of England to their aid. The
latter supported, as a rival to his nephew, the landgrave Thierry
of Alsace, who soon made himself master of Lille, of Ghent, and
other important places. The son of Robert Curthose, however, had
inherited the military talents of his father and grandfather: he
completely defeated his adversary under the walls of Alost; but
he had received a wound in the hand from a pike, and this injury,
at first regarded as of little importance, turned to gangrene.
William was carried to the monastery of St. Omer, where he died
on the 27th of July, 1128. He was not yet twenty-six years of
age, and he left no issue. His last care had been to recommend to
the clemency of his uncle the Norman barons who had served his
cause. The king willingly pardoned them, so rejoiced was he to be
delivered from the anxieties which his nephew caused him. Duke
Robert was still living; but these successes had no more effect
than the death of his son upon the dreary captivity of the
unfortunate blind prisoner.
The Empress Maud and her husband often gave trouble to King Henry
by their quarrels. The birth of their eldest son in 1133 for a
moment appeased their dissensions. The child was christened
Henry, after his grandfather, and the Normans called him Henry
FitzEmpress, to distinguish him from the king, whom they called
Henry FitzWilliam Conqueror. Two other sons were born to Count
Geoffrey Plantagenet, and the quarrels recommenced.
{135}
The count claimed Normandy, which the king had promised to
relinquish in his favor; but Henry still refused. He was no more
disposed than his father had been "to strip himself of his
clothing before bedtime." His strength, however, was declining:
he was dejected. On the 25th of November, 1135, anxious to dispel
his low spirits, he set out for the forest of Lion-la-Forèt, in
Normandy. When he returned he was hungry, and at supper he ate
greedily of a dish of lampreys, which his physician regarded as
unwholesome. His digestion was disordered: he fell ill and died
on the 1st of December, at the age of sixty-six, leaving all his
domains on both sides of the sea to his daughter Maud and her
descendants. He had reigned thirty-five years; and, with the
exception of some unimportant expeditions against the French,
England had enjoyed peace under his sway. This great blessing had
been sullied by many crimes. Neither plighted faith nor natural
feeling had ever impeded Henry I. in his ambitious projects; but
he had placed the dominion of the Norman race in England on such
solid foundations that the troubles which followed upon his death
could not shake it; and if success were the test of moral worth
Henry FitzWilliam Conqueror might be regarded as a great king.
All his efforts and all his precautions, however, had not enabled
him to secure the succession to his daughter. Scarcely had he
breathed his last when his nephew Stephen, son of the Count of
Blois and of Adela, daughter of William the Conqueror, set sail
immediately for England. The king had always treated his nephew
with particular favor; he had given him vast fiefs in England.
The Count Stephen was very popular among the Normans and the
Saxons. His wife, Maud, niece of Matilda, first wife of Henry I.,
even belonged to the royal Saxon family. Stephen boldly laid
claim to the throne, which could not, he said, belong to a woman.
{136}
He was descended like her from William the Conqueror, and in the
same degree. England was not a property which could be bequeathed
at pleasure and without respect for the wishes of the people.
Many barons were of Stephen's opinion, and the treasure of King
Henry, which his brother the Bishop of Winchester yielded up to
him, secured to him other adherents. The chief minister of the
deceased king, Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, whom Henry had
originally remarked and attached to his person as "the readiest
priest at saying a mass whom he had ever met with," allowed
himself to be won by money. William Corbois, Archbishop of
Canterbury, was more scrupulous, but was persuaded that the king,
irritated by the conduct of his daughter, had adopted his nephew
on his death-bed. Stephen was elected by the barons and prelates,
who considered themselves absolved from their oath towards the
empress because she had married without their consent; and the
coronation took place at Westminster, on the 26th of December,
St. Stephen's Day. The pope confirmed the election with the more
readiness because Stephen had accepted the oath of the clergy,
under the condition imposed by the bishops, of respect for the
liberties and discipline of the Church. The barons had obtained
new fiefs, with permission to fortify their castles and to
construct new ones. Those who were greedy for gain received
money, and King Stephen was in such high favor on both sides of
the sea that when Geoffrey Plantagenet entered Normandy to claim
the rights of his wife, the natural animosity of the Normans
against the Angevins broke forth with violence. The count was
compelled to retire, and to conclude with Stephen a truce for two
years, in consideration of a pension of 3000 marks of silver. The
king crossed over into Normandy, and received there the homage of
the barons; and Louis VII., surnamed the Young, then king of
France, betrothed his young sister, Constance, to the little
Eustace, son of Stephen, granting to the child the investiture of
Normandy.
{137}
Among the barons who had taken the oath of allegiance to Stephen
was Robert, earl of Gloucester, a natural son of Henry I., who
had renounced all rights to the throne in favor of his sister,
the Empress Maud. Like her, he had pretended to yield, but like
her he had not abandoned the cause. Maintained in the possession
of his large domains through his oath of fidelity, he crossed
from Normandy into England, and very soon the tranquillity which
had reigned there gave place to a secret agitation. Several
partial risings took place; but these were only the precursors of
the great insurrection which Gloucester was preparing, and which
David, king of Scotland, was about to support as protector of the
rights of his sister, the Empress Maud.
The mine was dug. The Earl of Gloucester retired into Normandy,
whence he wrote to Stephen solemnly renouncing his allegiance.
Other great barons followed his example, and, fortifying
themselves in their castles, overwhelmed the king with
reproaches, accusing him of having failed to keep his oath
towards them. "Ah!" exclaimed Stephen, "the traitors! they made
me king, and now they desert me; but, by the Nativity of God!
they shall never make me a deposed king!" In this perilous
situation Stephen displayed great energy, laying siege to the
rebel castles one after the other, and disposing largely of the
domains of the crown in favor of the barons who were faithful or
who became penitent. Meanwhile the king of Scotland had entered
Northumberland at the head of a numerous army from the Highlands
and Lowlands, isles and mountains, the regular troops and
undisciplined savages, knights clad in iron, the best lances in
Europe, and mountaineers half naked, constituting this army of
"Scotch emmets," as the English expressed it, covered all the
country extending from the Tweed to the north of the county of
York, ravaging and pillaging on their way.
{138}
The king was at a distance, detained by the insurrections of the
barons in the South. The northern counties defended themselves.
The Normans called to their aid the inhabitants of the country,
those English who, though so often oppressed, possessed a
vitality which resisted every form of tyranny. They united with
their conquerors to defend the country against this attack. The
archbishop of York, Toustain or Thurstan, a decrepid old man,
sinking under age and infirmities, but full of energy and
foresight, caused a search to be made in the churches for the
standards of St. John of Beverley, St. Cuthbert of Durham, and
St. Wilfred of Ripon, which had remained there since the
Conquest. They raised aloft these consecrated banners upon a car
similar to the _caroccio_ which bore the standards of the
Italian Republics. In the midst of the flags arose a pedestal
bearing the tabernacle and the sacred host. The English
surrounded the sacred car, with their long-bows in their hands.
They halted at Elfertun (now North Allerton), awaiting the
arrival of the Scotch. There was a dense mist, and the enemy
might have taken the English army by surprise, but for Robert
Bruce and Bernard Baliol, who possessed domains in England and
Scotland. The former of these two knights approached King David.
"O king!" he exclaimed, "do you bear in mind against whom you are
going to fight? It is against the Normans and the English, who
have so often served you well with counsel and arms, and have
succeeded in securing to you the obedience of your people of
Celtic race. Remember that it is we who have placed these tribes
in your hands, and thence arise? the hatred with which they are
animated towards our countrymen."
{139}
"These are the words of a traitor," exclaimed William, nephew of
the King of Scotland. At the same instant Malise, earl of
Strathern, was heard to exclaim, "What need have we of this
stranger? I have no breastplate, and yet I will advance as far as
any among them." The old Norman turned his horse's head. "I
retract my oath of fidelity and homage, O king!" he cried, and,
spurring his horse, he hastened towards the English, with Bernard
Baliol, crying out that the Scotch were following them.
The Bishop of Durham was standing erect upon the sacred car, as
representative of the old Archbishop of York. He pronounced
absolution in a loud voice, and the English and Normans, who had
been kneeling, arose, exclaiming "Amen!" The Scotch were already
charging, amidst cries of "Alban, Alban!" the historical name of
their country. Their impetuous attack had broken the ranks of the
English; but the Norman cavalry, in close order around the car,
steadily repulsed the charge. The archers formed again, and began
to harass the mountaineers with their shafts; the long pikes of
the men of Galloway were broken upon the Norman bucklers; the
claymores of the Highlanders could not pierce their breastplates.
The fight lasted two hours, and the confusion was terrible.
Prince Henry, son of the King of Scotland, had succeeded in
cleaving a way up to the standards, but he was repulsed. The
lances and the swords were broken. The fury of the attack abated;
the retreat soon became a rout, protected only by King David and
his corps of knights, who had rallied around him. The Scotch took
refuge in Carlisle, where the English did not attack them. The
treaty of peace, which was concluded in the following year, even
left Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Northumberland in the power of
Scotland.
{140}
The defeat of the Scots at the battle of the Standard had cooled
the ardor of the malcontents. The Empress Maud and the Earl of
Gloucester had not yet appeared in England; but King Stephen
committed a grave error. He alienated from himself the attachment
of the clergy who, up to that time, had been favorable to him, by
suddenly casting into prison the Bishop of Salisbury, one of the
partisans who had had the greatest share in his elevation, and
whom he had up to then loaded with wealth and honors. "By the
Nativity of God!" he exclaimed to one of his attendants, "I would
give him one-half of England if he asked it. He should grow weary
of asking before I would grow weary of giving, until the day when
he should be dumb."
That day had apparently arrived, for Roger of Salisbury and his
two nephews, Bishops of Lincoln and Ely, were suddenly arrested.
The Bishop of Ely succeeded in escaping and taking refuge in a
fortress. He defended himself valiantly; but they threatened to
starve to death his uncle and his brother if he did not yield.
The manners of the time were such that there was reason to fear
the execution of the threat. The Bishop of Ely surrendered, and
the king took possession of the property of the three prelates;
but he had irritated a dangerous enemy. His own brother, the
Bishop of Winchester, and the Legate of the Pope in England,
summoned him to appear before a Synod of bishops to answer for
this breach of the privileges of the Church. It was necessary to
appeal to the Pope against the prelates, and to disperse the
Synod by force. The Bishop of Salisbury died shortly
afterwards--"of chagrin," say the Chronicles. His nephews
embraced the cause of the Empress, and a great part of the clergy
followed their example. The Synod had just been dispersed
(September, 1139) when Maud at length disembarked in England with
one hundred knights only.
{141}
Some Normans went to meet her, but finding her so ill attended
they kept back. King Stephen swept down upon Arundel Castle,
where resided Queen Adelais, widow of Henry I. He found her
engaged in assisting her daughter-in-law, who had just arrived. A
chivalrous sentiment restrained Stephen from insulting the two
princesses. He left Adelais in peaceable possession of the
castle, and the empress was able to proceed and meet her brother
the Earl of Gloucester, who was endeavoring to revive the
discontent in the counties of the West. Her partisans soon
rallied round her, and raising her standard she attacked the
king. Sometimes she was defeated, sometimes victorious; and for
eighteen months England was afflicted by the horrors of civil
war. At last a decisive combat near Lincoln resulted in King
Stephen falling into the hands of the Earl of Gloucester. He was
cast into confinement in Bristol Castle. The barons who had
followed him hastened to the empress, made peace with her, and
acknowledged her right to the crown, the Legate and the Bishop of
Winchester being foremost. On the 7th of April a meeting of
bishops, again presided over by the Legate, ratified the
accession of Maud, absolving all the barons and the prelates from
their oath towards Stephen; but the empress was obliged to allow
some months to elapse before her coronation at Westminster, so
attached were the citizens of London to the cause of the
vanquished king.
Maud was haughty, and she lacked the tact and prudence so
necessary to sovereigns whose throne is insecure. She harshly
refused to give to the Bishop of Winchester the patrimonial lands
of King Stephen, which he claimed on behalf of his nephew, Prince
Eustace; and thus she mortally offended that proud prelate.
{142}
On arriving in London she demanded immediately an enormous
tollage. "The king has left us nothing," said the citizens
piteously. "I understand," replied the new queen, "you have given
everything to my adversary, and you desire me to spare you."
London ended the dispute by promising to pay, presenting at the
same time an humble petition. "Restore to us (they implored) the
good laws of King Edward, thy great uncle, in the place of those
of thy father. King Henry I., which are bad and too harsh towards
us." The queen rudely repulsed the petitioners, and she was
awaiting the arrival of the promised gold when the bells of the
city suddenly sounded the alarum. From each house issued a
combatant armed with an axe, a bar of iron, or a bow, "like bees
issuing from a hive," says the chronicle; all took the direction
of the palace. At the same time a troop of armed men, carrying
the banner of Queen Matilda wife of Stephen, presented themselves
on the bank of the Thames upon the Surrey side. The empress was
at table; she sprang upon her horse and fled by the western gate,
accompanied only by some servants, while the multitude pillaged
the hall which she had just quitted. She was destined never to
return to London.
The empress took refuge at Oxford. She had conceived some doubts
with regard to the fidelity of the Bishop of Winchester, whom she
sent for. "Say that I am preparing," replied the prelate. The
queen had conceived the design of surprising him in his episcopal
city; but at the moment when she entered by one gate she saw him
go forth by another, on his way to place himself at the head of
the partisans of his brother. The queen gathered her adherents
about her; but the bishop had returned, and he laid siege to
Winchester, where the King of Scotland and the Earl of Gloucester
had joined Queen Matilda.
{143}
All military operations had been suspended for the festival of
the Holy Cross (14th September, 1141), when at daybreak Maud
mounted her horse, accompanied by a good escort, and silently
departed from the royal castle. She passed without serious
difficulties through the camp of the besiegers, who were occupied
in the ceremonies of the day. When the pursuit commenced Maud was
already drawing near to the castle of Devizes; but she did not
feel herself to be safe here, thoroughly as that place had been
fortified by the Bishop of Salisbury, and she continued her
course. The Earl of Hereford alone accompanied her as far as
Gloucester. The King of Scotland had set out for his kingdom, but
the Earl of Gloucester was taken prisoner. A great number of his
adherents were disguised as peasants, but their Norman accent
betrayed them, and the English hinds seizing this occasion to
wreak vengeance on their oppressors arrested them, and whip in
hand conducted them into the enemy's camp.
The two parties were without leaders, for Matilda could do
nothing without her brother. It was resolved to exchange the Earl
of Gloucester for King Stephen, and in a grand council of bishops
convened on the 7th of December by the Legate, the latter hurled
all the thunders of the Church against the partisans of the
Countess of Anjou (by which name he described Maud), as he had
done on the 7th of April against the adherents of the Count of
Blois. The war continued in England and in Normandy: the Count of
Anjou had subjected that great province, but he refused to cross
the sea to join his wife, and contented himself with sending his
eldest son Henry into England with his uncle, the Earl of
Gloucester. At the moment when the young prince landed in the
country where he was destined to establish his race, his mother
was besieged in Oxford by King Stephen.
{144}
The winter was one of great severity, and the sufferings of the
nation were unparalleled. The barons fortified themselves each in
his castle, "and even in the churches," say the chronicles,
adding, that "they dug trenches in the churchyards, exposing to
the daylight the bones of the dead. From thence armed men
pillaged the towns and villages, the passers-by, and the lonely
cottages. It was possible to walk all day without meeting a man
upon the road, or seeing an acre of land in cultivation--for to
till the earth was like tilling the sands of the sea-shore. Never
had the pagan pirates inflicted worse evils."
The siege of Oxford lasted three months; the snow covered the
ground. Maud found herself on the point of perishing by famine.
She attired herself in white, as did three knights of her suite,
and the four issued by a little postern, and traversed the
deserted country as far as the town of Abingdon, where they
obtained horses. The castle of Oxford surrendered on the morrow:
but Stephen was soon afterwards defeated before Wilton by the
Earl of Gloucester.
In the midst of these alternate successes and disasters, the
burden of which weighed equally and constantly on the people, the
Earl of Gloucester died (1147). His nephew, whom he had kept in
Bristol Castle, in order to protect him against his enemies,
returned into Normandy, and shortly afterwards the empress
herself, deprived of all support, relinquished the part she had
played with so much fortitude for eight years in order to return
to France. King Stephen was now master of the situation; but his
throne, shaken under him, was not destined to become firm again.
[Image]
Escape Of The Empress Maud From Oxford.
{145}
Pope Innocent II., the protector of the Bishop of Winchester, had
just died: Celestine II. and Lucius II. had enjoyed the
pontifical throne only for the briefest space. Anastasius II.
withdrew the title of legate from the king's brother, and granted
it to his adversary Theobald, archbishop of Canterbury. Stephen
had taken a part in the quarrel of his brother with the
archbishop, whom he had exiled; and a part of the kingdom had
been placed under an interdict. The Church was too strong for a
sovereign so feeble: Stephen was compelled to cede great estates
to the clergy, and to be reconciled with Theobald. But in vain he
sought to obtain the recognition of his eldest son Eustace as his
successor; the archbishop constantly refused his countenance; the
quarrels broke out afresh, and the episcopal domains were
confiscated in several places.
So long as King Stephen had only to contend against a woman,
however divided England was, he had the best chances of success;
but his new rival, Henry, was sixteen years of age: he had just
been knighted in Scotland (1149) by his uncle. King David, and on
his return he received from his uncle the investiture of
Normandy. In 1150 Geoffrey of Anjou died, and his domains
reverted to his eldest son, who two years later married Queen
Eleanora, the divorced wife of King Louis the Young. She brought
him, as her portion, the county of Poitou and the duchy of
Aquitaine. He was nineteen years of age; his personal reputation,
like his power, was growing daily. The party of the Plantagenets
in England began to raise their heads, and when the prince landed
in 1153, with an army small in number but strong in discipline,
many adherents came to take service under his banner. King
Stephen had also gathered together his forces, and the two rivals
found themselves face to face at Wallingford, separated only by
the Thames. They remained there two days without coming to blows.
At length the Earl of Arundel had the courage to declare, that it
was a folly to prolong the suffering of an entire nation for the
sake of the ambition of two princes.
{146}
It was resolved to sign a truce with a view to negotiate a
permanent peace. About that time Eustace, the eldest son of
Stephen, died in consequence of great excesses. The king had now
only one son, who was still young and not ambitious. The two
rival ecclesiastics, the Bishop of Winchester and the Archbishop
of Canterbury, conducted the negotiations, and on the 7th of
November, 1153, in a solemn council held at Winchester, King
Stephen adopted Prince Henry as a son, giving the kingdom of
England as an inheritance to him and his descendants for ever.
Henry took the oath of fidelity and homage, receiving in his turn
the allegiance of Prince William, the son of Stephen, on whom he
conferred all the patrimonial lands of his father. A year later,
on the 25th of October, 1154, King Stephen expired at Dover in
his fiftieth year. For a while, at least, civil war was not to
desolate England.