Chapter VI.

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?"

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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!"

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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.

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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."

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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.

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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.

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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.