Showing posts with label King Richard I. Show all posts
Showing posts with label King Richard I. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 12, 2023

Gerald and Henry's Sons

Gerald of Wales (c.1146 - 1223) wrote about Henry II and his sons, giving a different facet to the most prominent figures in England at the time. One of his character descriptions is of a man who was Henry II's son, his namesake, and his enemy: Henry the Young King, who rebelled against his father. Although Henry tried to usurp his father's throne, Gerald paints an admirable portrait of him:

In peace, and in private life, he was courteous, affable gentle, and amiable, kindly indulgent to those by whom he chanced to be injured, and far more disposed to forgive than to punish the offenders. His disposition was so good that he could never refuse to give anything that was fitting, thinking that no one ought to leave his presence sorrowful, or disappointed of his hopes. In short, he considered that he had lost a day when he had not secured the attachment of many by various acts of liberality, and bound them to him, body and soul, by multiplied favors conferred.

This amiable and generous nature changed when it was time for war:

When in arms and engaged in war, no sooner was the helmet on his head than he assumed a lofty air, and became impetuous, bold, and fiercer than any wild beast. His triumphs were often gained more by his valor than by fortune; and he was in all respects another Hector, son of Priam, except that the one fought on behalf of his father and his country, and the other, alas! was led by evil counsels to fight against both.

Henry's second son, Richard the Lionheart, did not fare so well in Gerald's eyes:

Different as were the habits and pursuits of the two brothers, sprung from the same stock and the same root, each has merited everlasting glory and endless fame. They were both tall in stature, rather above the middle size, and of commanding aspect. In courage and magnanimity they were nearly equal; but in the character of their virtues there v as a great disparity. One was admirable for gentleness and liberality, the other distinguished himself by his severity and firmness. The one had a commendable suavity, the other gravity. One was commended for his easy temper, the other for his determined spirit. One was remarkable for his clemency, the other for his justice. The vile and undeserving found their refuge in the one, their punishment from the other. One was the shield of bad men, the other the hammer to crush them. The one was bent on martial sports, the other on serious conflicts. The one bestowed his favours on foreigners, the other on his own people; the one on all the world, the other on the worthy only. The one's ambition magnanimously compassed the world; the other coveted, to good purpose, what was rightfully his own.

Geoffrey (prince of Brittany) and John (Prince of Ireland), get less attention; John especially seems to get the "we hope he will rise to the excellence of his brothers" treatment:

The Armorican-British and the Irish dominions proclaim the well-merited praises of the two others. Both of them were of rather short stature, a little below the middle height, and for their size were well-shaped enough. Of these, the one is already distinguished by his virtues, and has attained the highest honours; the other will. The one is well versed in military affairs; the other has to be instructed in them. ... The one is already great in action, the other leads us to expect he will be great; for not degenerating from his high origin, he has equaled his most noble brothers in worth as far as his powers admit.

Later in life, Gerald spent his time writing and making a few trips to Ireland and Rome. Some of his works were devotional instruction, but he did write a text designed to advise princes how to act. (I am tempted to think he wrote this because of his time spent with Prince John.) We'll take a closer look at his advice tomorrow.

Saturday, October 21, 2023

Pontefract Castle

Pontefract Castle, where Richard II was imprisoned by his cousin (although for a very short time), had been begun very shortly after William the Conqueror took over England. He gave lands in 1070 to Ilbert and Walter de Lacy, who followed him from Normandy. Ilbert began Pontefract Castle, represented here by a model. There was a wooden structure there originally, refurbished in stone over time. The Domeday Book on 1086 calls it "Ilbert's castle."

A later de Lacy, Robert, did not support Henry I in his struggle with his brother, so Henry confiscated the castle in the 1100s. Under Richard Lionheart, Roger de Lacy paid 3000 marks for the privilege of inhabiting the castle, but Richard still owned it. When Richard's brother John came to power, he awarded Roger's loyalty by giving him the castle. By this time it was being called Pontefract.

The de Lacy family lived there until the early 1300s, but Henry de Lacy had only one daughter, "Poor" Alice, who married Thomas, the 2nd Earl of Lancaster. Pontefract became a Lancaster possession now. Thomas backed the wrong horse in the never-ending conflict between kings and would-be kings. He was convicted of treason without being allowed to speak in his own defense and executed at Pontefract on 22 March 1322.

Pontefract then passed to Thomas' brother, Henry Grosmont, the 3rd Earl of Lancaster, who was politically more savvy and eventually became one of the most respected and land-wealthy nobles in England. With his death, Pontefract came to his son-in-law, John of Gaunt. John's son Henry Bolingbroke should have inherited it, but at John's death an annoyed Richard II kept it along with all the other properties that should have gone to Henry. Henry mounted a campaign to get back what was rightfully his, but it snowballed into an outright rebellion against Richard, who was deposed and held in the Tower of London for awhile before being sent to Pontefract for incarceration. Not long after, Richard was dead (we are told from starvation).

Richard III, after the death of King Edward IV, had two men beheaded at Pontefract: the son and brother of Edward's wife, Elizabeth Woodville. When Henry VIII accused his fifth wife, Catherine Howard, of adultery with Sir Thomas Culpeper, it was thought that the affair began when the king and queen were staying at Pontefract.

A parliament under Oliver Cromwell decided that Pontefract should be demolished and the materials re-used. Now it is possible to see the cellars, but some renovation has taken place.

Henry Grosmont was, as mentioned respected and wealthy, and his death was mourned throughout England. Let's talk about what made him special next time.

Tuesday, August 1, 2023

Exchequer of the Jews

In 1194, Richard I of England created a system by which all financial transactions by Jews would be documented by the Crown. This system created an office that was subordinate to the Royal Exchequer, and became known as the Exchequer of the Jews.

His motivation was the Massacre at York, as well as the anti-semitic riots that took place at his own coronation.

I think it would be interesting to see part of the actual (translated) decree (ellipses and italics are mine):

All the debts, pledges, mortgages, lands, houses, rents, and possessions of the Jews shall be registered. The Jew who shall conceal any of these shall forfeit to the King his body and the thing concealed, and likewise all his possessions and chattels, ..., and there shall be appointed two lawyers that are Christians and two lawyers that are Jews, and two legal registrars, and before them and the clerks of William of the Church of St. Mary's and William of Chimilli, shall their contracts be made.
And charters shall be made of their contracts by way of indenture. And one part of the indenture shall remain with the Jew, sealed with the seal of him, to whom the money is lent, and the other part shall remain in the common chest: wherein there shall be three locks and keys, whereof the two Christians shall keep one key, and the two Jews another, and the clerks of William of the Church of St. Mary and of William of Chimilli shall keep the third. And moreover, there shall be three seals to it, and those who keep the seals shall put the seals thereto. 
... For every charter there shall be three pence paid, one moiety thereof by the Jews and the other moiety by him to whom the money is lent; whereof the two writers shall have two pence and the keeper of the roll the third. 
And from henceforth no contract shall be made with, nor payment, made to, the Jews, nor any alteration made in the charters, except before the said persons or the greater part of them, if all of them cannot be present. And the aforesaid two Christians shall have one roll of the debts or receipts of the payments which from henceforth are to be made to the Jews, and the two Jews one and the keeper of the roll one.

Moreover every Jew shall swear on his Roll, that all his debts and pledges and rents, and all his goods and his possessions, he shall cause to be enrolled, and that he shall conceal nothing as is aforesaid. And if he shall know that anyone shall conceal anything he shall secretly reveal it to the justices sent to them, and that they shall detect, and shew unto them all falsifiers or forgers of the charters and clippers of money, where or when they shall know them, and likewise all false charters.

The three sets of locks and keys eliminated the chance of tampering, since the chest holding the official documents could only be opened if all three possessors of the keys were present.

There were two major benefits to this decree: one to the Crown, and one to the Jewish population. The Crown would have records of every transaction and could use them to tax the Jews involved. The Jewish moneylenders also benefitted, because any debtor wishing to accuse the moneylender of unfairness, or who tried to get out of repayment, now had to deal with a moneylender with the full weight of the Royal Exchequer behind him.

An additional benefit to the Crown was that the death of a moneylender without heirs meant a faithful accounting of all the moneylender was owed was known and therefore could be collected ... by the Crown, of course.

Documents from this office are extant for 1219-20, 1244, 1253, and 1266-87. (In 1290, all Jews were expelled from England by Edward I, or made to convert.)

One of these documents, in 1233, has an unusual feature: it is illustrated. The illustration above is part of it. The whole drawing is interesting as one of the earliest examples of Jews shown in a negative depiction. We're going to look at it very carefully next time.

Monday, July 31, 2023

Ordinance of the Jewry

When Richard I of England was kidnapped coming back from the Third Crusade, the ransom was going to be enormous: 100,000 pounds of silver. This was 2-3 times the annual income to the English crown from taxation. Richard's mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, worked hard to raise the money. Churches were taxed for one-quarter of the value of their property. William Longchamp, Richard's chancellor, raised 5000 marks from the Jewish community of England alone, which was more than three times what the City of London was required to offer.

When Richard got back to England, he looked at an anti-semitic massacre that happened in York, and decided to do something about it. That situation seemed to have been started deliberately by Christians who owed money to Jews and chose to start a pogrom to avoid having to settle their debts properly.

To be fair, Richard saw such situations as financial losses for himself. Lost revenue of a citizen meant being able to tax that citizen less. Richard decided that all transactions with Jews needed to be recorded by the Exchequer. His Ordinance of the Jewry in 1194 led to a new division of the Royal Exchequer called the Exchequer of the Jews.

This Exchequer required each transaction to be documented with a chirograph (literally "hand-written"). One part would be kept by the creditor, one part would be kept at the Exchequer. The benefit to the Jewish creditor was that a record of the debt was stored in a safe place and the person to whom the money was leant could not get out of repayment. There was a benefit for the Crown, as well. All transactions were liable to taxation. Moreover, Richard mandated to receive 10% of all debts collected with the aid of his courts. Curiously, with the king acting as "silent partner" to Jewish moneylenders, they had an advantage over Christian moneylenders whose accounts were not protected by the Exchequer. 

The Exchequer expanded beyond just debts, which we can look at tomorrow.

Sunday, July 30, 2023

William Longchamp

William Longchamp (or "de Longchamp") achieved success the old-fashioned way: he paid lots of money for it. That's not fair; best to start at the beginning.

Little is known of his background, except that his family came from Longchamp in Normandy. A rival of his, Hugh Nonant, Bishop of Coventry, claimed William's grandfather was a peasant. This seems unlikely, since William's father Hugh held a knight's tenancy in Normandy, also land in England. (Nonant was Longchamp's opposite on many issues, such as the Becket affair and loyalty to Henry II's children.)

Near the end of Henry II's reign, Longchamp entered royal service for Henry's son Geoffrey (not Geoffrey Plantagenet, Duke of Brittany, who would join the rebellion against their father; the illegitimate one, who became Archbishop of York under Richard). That did not last long. Soon he was working in Henry's chancery, writing up documents, and later was working for Richard I, who made Longchamp Chancellor of Aquitaine, of which Richard was then the Duke. During a dispute between Richard and Henry's envoy, William Marshall, Longchamp was sent to Paris to represent Richard at the court of King Philip II.

When Richard became king, it might have seemed inevitable that he made the trusted and competent Longchamp Chancellor for England—once Longchamp paid £3000 for the privilege, that is. Longchamp would manage England's business while Richard ruled. One of those bits of business was the use of the Great Seal to authenticate documents, whose control and use was now in Longchamp's hands. Stamping a chancery document with the Great Seal incurred a fee, paid to the keeper of the Seal. The price of the Seal's use was raised at this time, perhaps to help Longchamp recoup the £3000 pounds.

Longchamp was also made Bishop of Ely, as well as Justiciar, able to act in the king's name in certain matters. He clashed with a co-justiciar, Hugh de Puiset, Bishop of Durham (who paid £1000 for that office), and so Richard split the country, giving Hugh authority over everything north of the Humber. (Hugh was a bit of a problem, exercising too much authority because the position of Archbishop of York had not been filed for awhile; once Richard placed his brother there, Hugh had a higher authority to whom he was forced to submit.)

One of Longchamp's first challenges after Richard left England was the Massacre at York, when about 150 Jews died after seeking refuge in Clifford's Tower. Richard had made it clear after the anti-semitic riot at his coronation that Jews were to be left in peace. Angry at the insult to the king's command, Longchamp marched to York and imposed heavy fine on 52 of its citizens. He banished Richard de Malbis and members of other families who had been leaders of the riot and massacre. Evidence showed that these individuals owed debts to the Jews, giving them motivation for their crimes.

There are some who blame Longchamp for harassment of the Jews, and yes, there was financial inequity because of Richard's kidnapping, but ultimately that led to Richard creating a system that he intended would stop the attempt to eliminate debt by eliminating the Jew to whom one owed the debt. In fact, Richard's plan gave Jewish moneylenders a slight advantage over Christian moneylenders. We'll go into all this next time.

Friday, July 28, 2023

Riot at the Coronation

During the coronation of Richard I, many citizens wanted to show their loyalty to the new king (and perhaps gain future favor) by giving him gifts. Not all citizens were welcome, however. Tradition meant not everyone was allowed to be part of or even witness the ceremony; for instance, women and non-Christians.

According to the Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral, Ralph of Diceto (c.1120 - c.1202), when some Jews arrived with gifts, they were stripped, flogged, and thrown from the building. To the people outside Westminster Abbey, the rumor spread that the new king disapproved of Jews and wanted them killed.

Riots began immediately. The Jewish population of London was attacked. Many of the homes in the area called Old Jewry were made of stone, and could withstand attacks by ordinary citizens, but the solution was to set them on fire, killing those within. (Some non-Jewish homes were destroyed by fire as well.) Some Jews were forced to convert to Christianity. Among those killed was Jacob of Orléans, a tosafist or author of commentaries on the Talmud, who had left France to teach in England. Some Jews escaped London, while some fled to the Tower of London to request sanctuary. Some were sheltered by Christian friends.

Richard was furious: no one wants the start of their reign to be marked by a massacre. His desire to punish the perpetrators was curtailed by the fact that there were so many and that some were prominent citizens. He chose to punish specifically the destruction of certain property. Roger of Hoveden describes it thusly:

On the day after the coronation, the king sent his servants, and caused those offenders to be arrested who had set fire to the city; not for the sake of the Jews, but on account of the houses and property of the Christians which they had burnt and plundered, and he ordered some of them to be hanged.

Although Richard seemed not to care about the destroyed Jewish homes, he did allow forcibly converted Jews to return to their chosen faith. He made a royal writ saying Jews should be left alone—he was concerned about what would happen when he left the country, since he had already pledged to go on Crusade.

When he went on Crusade shortly after, however, there were more examples of anti-semitism, which I will share tomorrow.

Thursday, July 27, 2023

The Coronation of Richard I

Richard I of England was not his father. Not only did he rebel against his father and reject support of his father's favorites, but he was far more known for his love of pageantry than Henry II. His coronation on 3 September 1189—incidentally the first coronation of an English king for which we have a detailed account—was considered lavish. We have an eyewitness to this event: Roger of Hoveden, who worked for Henry II and stayed with Richard, including going on the 3rd Crusade.

One of Richard's first moves upon becoming king was to release his mother from house arrest. Since the revolt of Henry's sons in 1173-74, Eleanor of Aquitaine had been kept imprisoned (though in style) for 15 years. Eleanor's hand was likely in the coronation agenda: Richard was her favorite of their sons, and she had waited for this day for three decades.

It started with a long procession through London, ending in Westminster Abbey, where all the great barons and lords of England gathered to see their new king. Nobles in the procession carried items made of gold: swords, cups, spurs, a royal scepter. Once in the Abbey, Richard knelt before the altar and the assembled bishops and abbots of England. A Bible and saints' relics were placed before him. Then, according to Roger of Hoveden:

…. [Richard] swore that he would all the days of his life observe peace, honor, and reverence towards God, the Holy Church, and its ordinances.  He also swore that he would exercise true justice and equity towards the people committed to his charge.  He also swore that he would abrogate bad laws and unjust customs, if any such had been introduced into his kingdom, and would enact good laws, and observe the same without fraud or evil intent.

Then came the true moment when he would become king: the anointing. Attendants came forward to removed his clothing except for undergarments, and giving him sandals embroidered with gold to wear. He was wearing a special shirt designed to keep his right shoulder and his chest bare. Baldwin of Forde, the Archbishop of Canterbury (whom Richard had ordered months earlier to stop his radical re-organizing of their chapter house), anointed his head, chest, and arm.

Richard then donned consecrated linen and royal robes, spurs and a sword. The crown was sitting on the altar. Richard took it, handed it to Baldwin, and was formally crowned. (In fact, two earls held it above his head because of its weight.) Richard then sat himself on the throne, and a Mass of celebration was begun.

Roger of Hoveden continues:

The mass having been concluded, and all things solemnly performed, the two bishops before-named, one on the right hand the other on the left, led him back from the church to his chamber, crowned, and carrying a sceptre in his right hand and the rod of royalty in his left, the procession going in the same order as before. Then the procession returned to the choir, and our lord the king put off his royal crown and robes of royalty, and put on a crown and robes that were lighter; and, thus crowned, went to dine; on which the archbishops and bishops took their seats with him at the table, each according to his rank and dignity. The earls and barons also served in the king’s palace, according to their several dignities; while the citizens of London served in the cellars, and the citizens of Winchester in the kitchen.

It must have been a sight that no one present would forget. Unfortunately, nor would they be likely to forget the mayhem that followed when some "uninvited guests" came to pay their respects and offer gifts to the king. Riot and murder followed, but that is a story for next time. 

Friday, March 31, 2023

To Kidnap a King

On his way back from the Third Crusade, King Richard I "Lionheart" of England was captured.

He had made many enemies in Europe. The Byzantine Emperor Isaac II Angelos was one, because Richard annexed the Island of Corfu (a Byzantine possession). Holy Roman Emperor Henry VI was angered because Richard supported King Tancred of Sicily, who had usurped the position from its proper heiress, Henry's wife Constance. Leopold of Austria blamed Richard for the murder of Leopold's cousin, Conrad of Montferrat.

So when Richard's ship was wrecked near Aquileia and Richard had to travel over land to get back home, he passed through Vienna, enabling Leopold to capture him around Christmas 1192. Interfering with a Crusader was against papal decree, but Richard had also personally offended Leopold by getting rid of Leopold's banner on the walls of Acre, even though Leopold had been with him at the Siege of Acre. When word got out, Pope Celestine III excommunicated Leopold.

Word got back to England of Richard's captivity, but no one knew where he was being held. He was given over to Henry VI's care on 28 March 1193, who imprisoned him at Trifels Castle. Not only was Henry angered at Richard's previous actions, he also had a goal: conquering all of southern Italy. This required military might, and that required money. Holding a king for ransom was one sure way of acquiring funds.

Henry's status as Holy Roman Emperor made Celestine reluctant to excommunicate him. Richard's treatment was initially respectful, but Richard treated Henry with disdain. Henry convened a council to condemn Richard for the capture of Cyprus, the insult to Leopold, the death of Conrad, and making a truce with Saladin. Richard defended his actions, and explained his lack of respect for Henry's imperial title by saying "I am born in a rank which recognizes no superior but God."

Afterward, Richard was kept in chains "so heavy that a horse or ass would have struggled to move under them." Henry demanded a ransom of 150,000 marks (100,000 pounds of silver). Richard's mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, now in her early 70s, took action, riding the country to raise funds and writing the pope about the horrible situation. A tax of 25% of the value of property was decreed against layman and all churches. Meanwhile, Richard's brother John and King Philip of France offered Henry 80,000 marks to keep Richard at least until Michaelmas 1194 (29 September in Europe).

Henry did something honorable and refused their offer. The ransom from England came through, and Richard was freed on 4 February 1194. (The illustration shows Richard kissing the feet of the emperor.) Upon his return to England he forgave John's actions and named John his heir (instead of their nephew Arthur, son of their brother Geoffrey).

And now for something completely different: Michaelmas. What was it about, and why did I have to specify "in Europe" above? I'll explain next time.

Thursday, March 30, 2023

Henry VI of Germany

King Henry VI of Germany who survived the Erfurt Latrine Disaster went on to become Holy Roman. Emperor. He was the second son of Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I (called Barbarossa), and a member of the Hohenstaufen dynasty.

He was born in November 1165, and named King of Germany by his father in 1169. His father made him King of Italy in 1186, the same year that Henry married Constance of Sicily. Constance was the sole heiress of Sicily, but was challenged by her illegitimate nephew, Tancred. Tancred controlled Sicily (with some difficulty) until after 1191.

In 1191, Henry and Constance were proclaimed Holy Roman Emperor and Empress, and they turned their attention to Sicily. Their attempts to take over in Sicily were hampered by the locals' fear of retribution from Tancred if they aided Henry. Even after Tancred's death in February 1194, Sicily remained in his family's control, but in November Henry prevailed. He was named King of Sicily on Christmas Day.

Henry was considered well-educated, learning Latin as well as Roman and canon law. He wrote poetry and was a patron of poets. A German songbook from the 14th century, the Codex Manesse, has three poems attributed to Henry and has a portrait of him, shown above.

He interfered with English politics somewhat. Richard I of England had made an arrangement with Tancred, and so Henry tried to isolate England: he negotiated with Richard's mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, to break off the engagement of Richard with Alys, daughter of Louis VII of France.

Henry had an even more significant encounter with Richard in 1193, when Richard became Henry's prisoner. More on that tomorrow.

Saturday, November 12, 2022

Divine Right of Kings

The Protestant Reformation in the 1500s undermined the authority of and people's faith in the pope and the Catholic Church. This was a boon to temporal authorities, as people increasingly looked to kings for guidance. The king was considered to be answerable for his decisions and behavior to no one but God. (Eventually, of course, the lack of limits in a ruler came under question, since it removes any power from the people, and the revolutions of the late 1700s dealt with this.)

While it lasted, however, the notion of the divine right of kings was beneficial to the tiny percentage of the human population that could take advantage of it.

For Christians and Jews, a passage in Deuteronomy was crucial:

When you come to the land that the Lord your God is giving you, and you possess it and dwell in it and then say, 'I will set a king over me, like all the nations that are around me,' 15 you may indeed set a king over you whom the Lord your God will choose. One from among your brothers you shall set as king over you. You may not put a foreigner over you, who is not your brother." (Deuteronomy, 17:14-15)

Debates took place over whether this meant the people choose a king, or whether their choice is an example of God's will being made manifest. In fact, Jewish law requires a blessing upon seeing a monarch: "Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, Who has given from His glory to flesh and blood." This suggests that the monarch has God's support.

Medieval Europe was willing to accept that God gave the ruler complete temporal authority, just as the Pope had complete spiritual authority. Richard I of England declared in 1193 "I am born in a rank which recognizes no superior but God, to whom alone I am responsible for my actions," and first used the phrase (still the motto of the monarch of the United Kingdom) Dieu et mon droit (French: "God and my right"). This is the origin of the pluralis majestatis, the "royal we" used by potentates, to indicate that they and God are speaking. Richard's Chancellor, William Longchamp, introduced the use of the plural into documents he produced during Richard's reign.

Henry VIII took this one step further (too far?) when he declared himself head of the Church in England. James VI /I of Scotland/England heavily promoted the divine right theory—although Scotland had always seen the king as simply "first among equals"—as did Louis XIV of France. James used a passage from Romans 13 about "God's ministers" to support his idea of divine right.

The earliest reference to divine rulership takes place long before James, or even Richard. Tomorrow we'll talk about Adomnán of Iona.

Thursday, November 10, 2022

The End of Barbarossa

You are Frederick I, offspring of two of Germany's most powerful families. As a young man, you went on Crusade and distinguished yourself in battle. You become King of Germany and King of Italy. As Holy Roman Emperor, you attempt to re-establish the extent of the Roman Empire. Your help is requested for a Third Crusade, "the most meticulously planned and organized" of any Crusade up until then. The approach of your army so unnerves Saladin that he divides his forces, currently trying to lift the Siege of Acre imposed by Richard Lionheart of England.

Meanwhile, your forces proceed through the Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia, reaching the Saleph River (now called the Göksu in Turkey on a plateau in the Taurus Mountains). The army is sent along a mountain path, while you decide on a shortcut advised by the locals: simply cross the river on your horse.

Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I, called Barbarossa, drowned in the Saleph on 10 June 1190.

Accounts vary. A biography written within a few years of Frederick's death says he chose to swim the river—possible, but he was 68 years old at the time—and was swept away. A churchman who was with the Crusade says it was a simple swim to refresh himself, but the old man encountered an unexpected current (illustrated in a manuscript of the Saxon Chronicle above). Another says he was thrown from his horse and weighed down by his armor. A contemporary chronicler claims God saved them from an evil man by drowning him in shallow water while the emperor was washing himself.

Whatever the case, the body was subjected to mos Teutonicus, thousands of German soldiers abandoned the Crusade and went home, and Philip of France took the rest to the Holy land where he shared command of the Crusade with Richard I of England, with whom he was not on friendly terms.

Frederick's reputation was such that he is one of those characters who passed into legend, specifically that he is not dead but lies sleeping (like Arthur, with attendants) until such time as his country needs him, either in the Kyffhäuser Mountains in Thuringia or Untersberg. The signal for his revival will be the disappearance of ravens flying around the mountain. His red beard continues to grow, his eyes are only half-shut, and occasionally his hand raises, signaling a boy to go outside and see if the ravens are still flying.

Germany never lost its interest in Barbarossa. The Kyffhäuser Monument (also called Barbarossa Monument) was erected on the anniversary of Frederick's coronation in 1896 to commemorate him and Kaiser Wilhelm I, who was declared the reincarnation of Barbarossa. Hitler named his invasion of the Soviet Union "Operation Barbarossa," although originally called "Operation Otto" after Otto the Great.

These recent posts have, of course, told barely one percent of the extensive accomplishments of Barbarossa. Tomorrow I want to dip into one of his other actions: the revival of the Roman Justinian Code.

Wednesday, November 2, 2022

The Bastard Archbishop

When Henry II died, his eldest son living was Geoffrey. Geoffrey was not in a position to ascend to the throne, however, because he was illegitimate. Henry had taken care of him with ecclesiastical positions, but Geoffrey had refused to be ordained a priest, even though he had been named a bishop. He had finally resigned the bishopric and became Henry's chancellor. His name appears in only a few official documents between 1182 and 1185, however. As with his religious positions, he had shown himself to be less than enthusiastic about carrying out any associated duties. As chancellor he had a keeper of the seal to authorize documents, freeing him up from daily obligations.

Henry's dying wish was that Geoffrey be made Bishop of Winchester or Archbishop of York (ecclesiastically equal to, but traditionally subordinate to, the Archbishop of Canterbury). The next king, Richard I, made Geoffrey Archbishop of York on 20 July 1189. Richard's magnanimity was motivated by a desire to keep Geoffrey from aspiring to a place at Court. Even if he did not aspire to the throne, he had served their father by leading the army, and might be persuaded to stir up trouble against Richard. It also showed Henry's supporters that Richard, who had rebelled against his father more than once, was willing to respect Henry's wishes. Moreover, it justified Richard removing Geoffrey from the position of chancellor.

With Geoffrey's major supporter dead, however, life was not going to be easy. Richard did not trust him, and made Geoffrey pledge to live outside of England while Richard was on Crusade. Also, York already had an archbishop: Hubert Walter had been voted archbishop by the cathedral chapter, supported by Eleanor of Aquitaine. It is possible that Eleanor opposed privileges for Geoffrey because he was a product of her late husband's illegitimate affairs. Richard also appointed some positions that would normally be made by the archbishop, to which Geoffrey objected. Richard responded by confiscating lands that belonged to Geoffrey's position, saying he would return them when Geoffrey agreed to be ordained and become a proper priest and prelate. Richard was further ensconcing Geoffrey into the church structure to keep him away from the throne, and showing the kingdom not to mess with him, since he could be strict even with his relatives. Even returning the lands to him required Geoffrey pay Richard a fine of £2000.

Geoffrey's troubles were far from over. Although Richard had given him time to pay the fine, it took so long (there were elements hostile to Geoffrey that hampered his efforts), that Richard finally re-confiscated the lands and increased the fine. Because Geoffrey's ordination took place at Tours, France, there were those who rejected his authority because he had not been consecrated as archbishop by the Archbishop of Canterbury. He was even arrested and imprisoned in Dover Castle by the current chancellor, William Longchamp, who claimed that Geoffrey had not pledged loyalty to Richard. Fortunately for Geoffrey, an archbishop imprisoned by an agent of the king invoked memories of Thomas Becket's death, and there was an outcry against Longchamp's actions.

Then, in 1199, Richard died, and John became king. John had not joined his brothers in their rebellions against Henry, and often appeared to be Henry's favorite. So how did he deal with his father's "other" favorite? I'll talk about that, and Geoffrey's final fate, tomorrow.

Monday, October 31, 2022

Young Henry's Revolt, 1173

Henry II had conflicts with the Scotland, with Ireland, with Wales, with France, but the most difficult conflicts may have been with his family.

The Norman practice of not only naming but formally elevating your heir led to Henry's eldest son, Henry, was formally made "king" and known as Henry, the Young King. At 18, Henry was well-liked and admired, but he had a problem: he was living like a king, with a retinue of knights and followers who wanted to be with the next monarch, but he had no revenues. Revenues come from the taxes on property, and his father kept tight control of England, Normandy, and Anjou. His mother, Eleanor, held the enormous Aquitaine. Young Henry stood to inherit a vast area, but he wanted it sooner. Then his father gave three castles, that would have belonged to young Henry, to Prince John. Eleanor and others urged Henry to rebel

His solution was ironic: give his future kingdom away in order to rule it. He promised territories to several counts of areas on the continent if they would support him in overthrowing his father. Henry senior's reputation had been severely tarnished by the killing of Thomas Becket in 1170; in 1173, people were still outraged.

Young Henry went to the court of King Louis VII of France, whose daughter he had married, to plan. His brothers Richard (Lionheart) and Geoffrey joined him (likely also upset at the preference shown to the youngest brother John). The first step was in March of 1173 when young Henry and his allies attacked Normandy from three sides. It was a failure. Loyal Norman forces repelled them and killed the Count of Boulogne.

The next phase took place when the Earl of Leicester took an army of Flemish mercenaries to England ... and was soundly defeated. Danger from the north was next: forces from Scotland in the spring of 1174 invaded northern England.

Then something happened that would not initially seem to be related to the war, but may have had an effect. Henry II, crossing from Normandy back to England in July, stopped at Canterbury Cathedral and did penance before the tomb of Thomas Becket, whose murder people felt as Henry's fault. The very next day, loyalists in northern England captured the Scottish forces. That was the end of the revolt. Henry II destroyed the castles of several of the nobles who supported his son. Young Henry, Richard, and Geoffrey all re-pledged their loyalty to the father.

Besides Prince John, there was another son who did not have cause to join the rebellion. This was another Geoffrey, who was illegitimate and possibly older than the rest. This Geoffrey had different ambitions, which were to be realized if he just kept his place and stayed the course. Tomorrow we'll talk about just how far a bastard son o a king could go.

Tuesday, October 11, 2022

The Angevin Empire

When King Stephen I of England died in 1154, the terms of the Treaty of Wallingford meant his rival's son would inherit the throne. Henry of Anjou became King Henry II of England and started the Angevin Empire. So what made it an empire? How large was it?

Well, England, of course, in which Henry had his grandest title of king, and also parts of Ireland and Wales. Through Henry's father, Geoffrey of Anjou, he was also Count of Anjou. Also, since Geoffrey took over Normandy not long before, Henry was Duke of Normandy. Moreover, because Henry married Eleanor of Aquitaine in 1152—who divorced the King of France to do so—he had Aquitaine.

The term "Angevin" was coined in 1887 by a British historian, based on "Anjou." Henry and his successors (sons Richard and John and John's son Henry III) would refer in documents to "our kingdom and everything subject to our rule whatever it may be" and never called it an empire or referred to themselves as Angevin. Technically, they were all Plantagenets.

Plantagenet was Geoffrey of Anjou's nickname. The plantagenet was the common broom, a flowering plant with bright yellow blossoms. Geoffrey was also known as Geoffrey the Handsome or the Fair. Perhaps his hair was lighter than typical, and the comparison to the golden flowers of the broom prompted the nickname. Even so, like the term "Angevin," it wasn't until Richard, 3rd Duke of York adopted Plantagenet as his family name during the Wars of the Roses that the term become attached to the whole hereditary line. It seems that Richard was linking himself to his ancestor Geoffrey in order to emphasize his proper place in the line of succession.

Extensive holdings on the continent (and perhaps spite, since Eleanor had abandoned being queen in France to become Queen Eleanor of England), made France a little hostile to the Angevin Empire. The problem created by Duke William of Normandy when he became King William of England in 1066 remained: how does a king of a country (England) react when he is likewise a lesser title (duke, count) in another country (France) and therefore subordinate to a king? That political oddity would define the English-French relationship for centuries.

It also calls into question the term "empire." To truly be an empire requires a centralized government and consistent laws and regulations throughout the territories. The varying laws and customs of the various Angevin territories were at odds with this definition.

Whether it was an empire like the Roman Empire or the medieval Holy Roman Empire, it didn't last more than a generation or two. Its demise will be the subject of the next post.

Friday, August 20, 2021

Muslim Massacre

I have written about Muslim-Christian relations before (here and here). Conflict between the forces of Western European culture and the Arab world has been going on for centuries, with atrocities on both sides. One of the earliest atrocities was committed by King Richard I, called Lionheart.

Ayyadieh
After the fall of Acre during the Third Crusade, there was an agreement between Richard and his opponent, Saladin, to exchange prisoners.  Richard was willing to give up about 2700 hostages (men including soldiers, women, children) taken in Acre for 1600 Christian hostages held by Saladin. Richard also demanded 100,000 gold pieces and the True Cross.

Richard was an impatient man at best, and he wanted Saladin to release the Christian hostages first. Saladin, a powerful and proud man in his own right, of course demanded in turn that Richard release the citizens of Acre. Negotiations broke down. Richard decided to teach Saladin a lesson in delaying the fulfillment of Richard's demands.

On either August 16th or 20th, 1191, Richard had his captives to a hill called Ayyadieh, where they were in sight of Saladin's army. He had them all put to death. This enraged the watching army, who charged the Crusaders. Richard, however, had plenty of forces there, and they were able to retreat safely into the city.

An eyewitness Kurdish chronicler in Saladin's army, Baha ad-Din ibn Shaddad, claimed in his chronicle that many Crusaders did not approve of this particularly callous treatment of prisoners. Christian chroniclers do not mention that there were women and children, leading the reader to assume that only soldiers were massacred.

Saladin, outraged, and also know for harsh treatment of his hostages, had his Christian prisoners executed. The True Cross was sent to "Damascus, where it was said to be buried under the portals of the chief mosque." (The Dream and the Tomb: A History of the Crusades, by Robert Payne, p.239)

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Two Men and a Car

Redvers Coat of Arms
William de Redvers, 5th Earl of Devon, died 10 September 1217; he was born sometime before 1146, (the year his mother died). His coat of arms was a lion rampant (facing left). At Richard Lionheart's coronation, four earls supported the canopy under which he walked in the procession. William was one of the canopy bearers. Prior to Richard's accession, William was loyal to King John.

Falkes de Breauté, with no particular aristocratic standing (he is rumored to have been illegitimate), died in 1226. His coat of arms was a griffin. He, too, had been loyal to King John. Falkes rose to prominence during the First Barons War when John faced a revolt from his barons. Falkes was prominent in many military engagements on behalf of John.

With their loyalty to King John (at a time when he needed men faithful to him), these two men probably crossed paths more than once. At least one of those times, however, was not in a good way.

William had a son, Baldwin, who would become the 6th Earl of Devon after William's death. Baldwin married Margaret Fitzgerald, the daughter of King John's chamberlain. Baldwin and Margaret had a son, also named Baldwin. Sadly, the elder Baldwin died on 1 September 1216.

Evolution of Vauxhall griffin
Falkes, with no title or fortune to his name, took it upon himself to improve his standing by kidnapping the widowed Margaret and forcing a marriage. William objected, but John approved, choosing to reward Falkes for exemplary service. Falkes received not only Margaret's dowry from her father, but also, when William died in 1217, the estates connected to the Devon title, since he was now regent for the younger Baldwin, who became the 6th Earl of Devon.

Part of Margaret's dowry was an area in London dominated by a manor which, because of her new husband, became known as Falkes' Hall. The name morphed through the years once the original reason for the name faded into history, first becoming "Foxhall" and later "Vauxhall." In 1857, a Scottish engineer founded a company in Vauxhall which later became the Vauxhall Iron Works and then, in 1907, the Vauxhall Motor Company. This company used, as its logo, the griffin of Falkes de Breauté.

So...if Falkes had not kidnapped William's daughter-in-law, the area in London known as Vauxhall would not have been given that name; moreover, whatever name it did get, the logo of an automobile company coated there might have been a lion rampant, which might have caused problems for the French Peugeot line of automobiles.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Richard's Lionheart

Box that held Richard's heart. The inscription reads:
"Here is the heart of Richard, King of England." 
Once Richard the Lionheart died from a crossbow bolt that was removed by a clumsy surgeon, the debate over appropriate interment began. Like saints, "There's such divinity doth hedge a king" (to borrow a phrase from Shakespeare*) that the body is special, and many people for whom he was their lord would want his memorial to be in their territory. His body was sent to Fontevraud Abbey to be interred near the body of his father, King Henry II. (See the picture in the post linked to above.)

But that was just his body.

Supposedly, on his deathbed he told his mother that he wanted his heart to go to Rouen, where it was placed in the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Rouen was the base for English forces in France at the time. His other internal organs were removed and buried in Chalus, where he died.

Over time, the location of the heart and entrails were lost, but an excavation at Notre Dame in 1838 uncovered a lead box inscribed with "Here is the heart of Richard, King of England."

Technically, the "heart" doesn't exist: 800 years has reduced it to dust, but that dust contains clues to 12th century embalming techniques. A 2006 "autopsy" was performed to find out what it could about the heart. It found several components:

  • Human proteins associated with cardiac muscle
  • Fragments of linen (the heart was probably wrapped in it)
  • Some lead and tin (probably leached into the dust from the box)  and mercury (used during embalming)
  • Pollens: pine, oak, poplar, plantain, bellflower (in the air when he died, so probably incidental)
  • Myrtle, daisy, mint (not in bloom in spring, and probably used during embalming to give a nice aroma)
  • Frankincense (used for embalming and symbolically because of the Three Wise Men's gifts)
  • The remains as they look today, in a crystal container.
  • Calcium (probably from lime used to preserve the heart)

Of interest to historians is the elements found that can only be accounted for by attempts to embalm/preserve the heart. The Church frowned on embalming, because it was known to be a pagan practice.

The shoebox-sized reliquary, and the crystal box that contains the remains of the heart of Richard, now sit in the Museum of Natural History in Rouen.

*Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 5, line 98

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Richard the LionHeart's Death

Richard's tomb at Fontevraud Abbey
Richard the Lionheart (1157 - 1199) died from complications after being hit by a crossbow shot by a follower of the Viscount of Limoges. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

In March of 1199, Richard besieged the town of Châlus near Limoges, because the lord of Châlus held a Roman treasure that had just been discovered by a farmer plowing his field. Richard, as overlord of the area (he was the Duke of Aquitaine, after all), demanded the treasure. His demand was refused.

On the evening of 25 or 26 March, an archer shot at Richard—who had neglected to put on his chain mail—while he stood outside the walls, driving the shaft deep into Richard's left shoulder. From this point on, things might have gone differently, but carelessness and circumstance had their way with Richard. In pulling out the crossbow bolt, the shaft broke, leaving the head inside. A surgeon removed the head, but did much additional damage to the wound, and infection set in.

Richard knew he wasn't going to live much longer. A message was sent to his mother (but not his wife), Eleanor of Aquitaine, who rushed to his side. The siege was successful while he lay incapacitated, and the archer was brought before him. Although different chroniclers identify the archer as one of four different men, all stories agree that Richard magnanimously forgave the archer, saying "Live on, and by my bounty behold the light of day,"and gave him 100 shillings and his freedom. Sadly, for the archer, Richard's followers had other ideas. Richard died on 6 April, and either Richard's captain Mercadier or Richard's sister Joan (depending on which chronicle you read) had the archer flayed alive and then hanged.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about. I really wanted to discuss what happened to Richard's body afterward, but I seem to have run out of time. We will look at that subject tomorrow.

Monday, May 12, 2014

Child Lionheart

The vineyards of Cognac
Today is the 823rd wedding anniversary of King Richard I of England, called Lionheart, and Berengaria of Navarre. They had no children, which is why Richard's brother John later took the throne. Richard, however, had a son from an earlier assignation, whose mother is unknown.

He was named Philip, probably after Richard's friend (and sometime adversary) Philip II of France. We don't know his birth date, but he was old enough in the 1190s to be married to Amelia of Cognac, heiress to Itier V, the Seigneur of Cognac* in Charente, in west-central France. When Amelia died, Philip inherited the castle, which later passes into the hands of his seneschal, Robert of Thornham, who had distinguished himself during the Crusades.

One wonders if Philip cared for his noble birth, or simply yearned for a quiet life. He does not keep the estate in Cognac, and we only see his name later in the Pipe Rolls (the financial records of the kings of England). In 1201, during the reign of King John, we find the entry: "And to Philip, son of King Richard, one mark as a gift." A report that there is a record of him "selling his lordship" to King John is just a rumor.

Roger of Hoveden claims in his Chronica that Philip avenged his father's death by killing the Viscount of Limoges, because the crossbow that led to Richard's death was fired while Richard was suppressing a revolt by Limoges. Hoveden's is the only reference to this event, however, and it seems unlikely, especially for a figure who seems so undistinguished and anonymous in all other ways. Except for life as a character in Shakespeare's King John, and as the potential successor to King John in the TV movie Princess of Thieves, Philip of Cognac has passed out of human memory...or interest.

*As you may guess, cognac brandy comes from this region.

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Conrad of Montferrat

[source]
On 28 April in 1192, Conrad of Montferrat was assassinated.

Conrad was an interesting character, a well-born European caught up in the fervor of one of his era's greatest pastimes: to occupy the Holy Land. At one point in his career, while he held the city of Tyre, Saladin appeared outside the walls with Conrad's father, the captured William V of Montferrat.* Saladin made an offer: surrender Tyre and Saladin would give up William and be very generous to Conrad. Supposedly, Conrad aimed his crossbow at his father, claiming that William had already lived a long life. Saladin was not that harsh a man: shocked, he commented "This man is an unbeliever and very cruel." and moved William out of harm's way. (William was released a year later.)

Conrad's leadership was not admired by all Europeans. Conrad's later position as King of Jerusalem was contested by the supporters of Guy of Lusignan, who included King Richard of England. Conrad was supported by Philip II of France (a childhood rival of Richard's), and Leopold V of Austria—a name well-known to those familiar with Richard's story: Leopold is the one who imprisoned Richard later, when Richard tried to return to England.

All the details of the political debate are not important here; suffice it to say that Conrad's disputed kingship was finally put to a vote, and the barons chose him over Guy. Two days later, however, he was attacked by two assassins. Guards killed one and captured the other, who claimed under torture that he was hired by Richard. Historians have other suspects for the hiring as well. Whomever hired them, however, the fact remains: this is one of the earliest references to a European dying at the hands of the Hashshashin, the group from which we derive the modern English "assassin". But you might not know what you think you know about them, and we will look into that tomorrow.

*William of Montferrat is well-known to 21st century computer gamers as one of the nine Templars in the game Assassin's Creed.