Magna Carta

The "Great Charter" was signed on June 10, 1215 by King John.

After the Norman Invasion of 1066, the kings of England started to rule more as the monarchs we think of today, abandoning the English custom of a council of wise men, the witenagemot, that had aided kings for centuries. Under strong and charismatic individuals such as Henry II (who ruled from 1154 until 1189), this system may have worked, but King John was not like Henry II. He was called "Bad" King John because he taxed people so heavily. He was called "Lackland" (in Old French, Johan Sanz Terre) because he lost the Duchy of Normandy to King Philip II of France. For these and other reasons, he lost the support of his barons.

The barons decided they needed to return the kingdom's governance to a system that allowed them more input. To that end, they conferred and agreed to draw up a great charter, which was drafted by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Stephen Langton. Although Langton may not have been as affected by John's whims as the barons, he had been the cause of a dispute between John and Pope Innocent III, which had resulted in John's brief excommunication. Langton definitely saw the need to curb John's ability to get himself and England into trouble.

When John decided to tax the barons themselves in order to mount a war to regain lost provinces on the continent, the barons had had enough. The barons and Langton produced a document called the "Articles of the Barons" in January of 1215, which John rejected. The barons then armed themselves and marched to London, occupying it in May. They confronted John at Windsor Castle, and he agreed to a meeting at a place called Runnymede.

Some items established by Magna Carta:

• The Church was free to rule itself, especially in the appointment of bishops.
• No new taxes, except with the consent of the Great Council, or Parliament
• Weights and Measures were to be made uniform throughout the realm
• Everyone had the right to due process

On June 15th (797 years ago today), the Barons reciprocated by renewing their Oath of Fealty to King John.

Of course, John had no intention of being bound by the restrictions of the Magna Carta, but that's another story.

1066: What Really Happened

When Edward the Confessor died, he supposedly made a deathbed statement committing his kingdom into the care of Harold Godwinson. As the most powerful man in England after the king, he was a natural choice. Whether Edward actually made that statement or not, the witenagemot, the group of wise men who counseled the king, approved Harold as king. He was crowned on the same day Edward was buried.

When word reached Duke William of Normandy across the English Channel, the response was understandably extreme: William not only claimed that Edward had named him his heir years earlier, but supposedly Harold himself had sworn on a saint's relics two years earlier to recognize William as king of England after Edward. (More detail can be found in yesterday's post.)

William was incensed. The report that Harold had broken a vow made on holy relics was so significant that it enabled William to procure the pope's blessing to depose Harold and take the throne. (Of course, William might have had help: Pope Alexander II was a former student of Lanfranc, who had been first an enemy and then a supporter of William and was not above exercising his influence on his former pupils.) The fact that William's army marched under a papal banner and blessing would have had a demoralizing effect on Harold's forces.

Worse than the psychological effect, however, would have been physical exhaustion. The stories we hear in our grade-school history books about 1066 leave out a third party: Harald Hardrada.

Harald Hardrada, King of Denmark and Norway, also believed he had a claim to England, since Danes had ruled it in times past. Harald landed in the north of England in September of 1066 with 300 longships, 15,000 men, and King Harold's brother, Tostig. On September 20 he defeated the first English forces he encountered. King Harold, however, met Harald five days later at the Battle of Stamford Bridge. Once Harold's forces managed to cross the bridge, he killed Harald and Tostig and defeated the army so soundly that only 24 ships survived to flee back to Denmark. This was not an easy battle, however, and the standoff at Stamford Bridge alone supposedly cost Harold about 20 of his best warriors and closest companions.

...and while Harold's army was recovering from their hard-won battle, the message arrived that William's fleet had arrived at Hastings, 300 miles away. The army (not recovered from their battle) had to march quickly south and meet William's fresh forces who had had plenty of time to prepare their defenses and pick the battle site. Who knows what would have happened if Harold's forces had been able to meet William's while at full strength? The years following the Battle of Hastings in 1066 are well-known, but history books too often leave out the crucial three weeks prior to the battle, when Harold and his English army performed herculean tasks to defend their shores.

Who Will Rule?

In 1051, when King Edward the Confessor was inviting more friendly Normans to join him in England, Duke William of Normandy visited. According to records made after 1066 but before William's death in 1087, William reported that Edward (who was celibate and would have no heirs of his own) told William that William would be his heir to the throne of England.

In 1064 (two years before Edward the Confessor's death), Harold Godwinson (the most powerful lord in England after the king; his sister was married to Edward) was shipwrecked off the coast of Normandy and held captive by Count Guy of Ponthieu.* Duke William of Normandy told Guy to release him; this was done, and Harold was returned to England, but only after swearing on holy relics that he would recognize William as his king in the future. (This is according to reports written long after the fact by William's chroniclers.)

When Edward died in 1066, Harold claimed that Edward had made a deathbed pronouncement, naming Harold his heir.

There was also a third claimant to the throne, although the least convincing. King Harald Hardrada of Norway and Denmark believed that he was the proper heir, because Danes had conquered England so many times in the past. A tenuous claim, but strengthened by the fact that he was supported by Tostig, the brother of Harold Godwinson! (Ahh, the days when sibling rivalry had higher stakes!)

The problem with all these claims?

In primarily Anglo-Saxon England, the next king was chosen by the witenagemot, the meeting of wise men. Kings might name a successor, but the Witan was needed to approve a ruler.

So who pressed their claim?

All of them.

I'll tell you the unhappy (for Harold) result tomorrow.

*Note: This is about the only reason why anyone studying history cares about Guy of Ponthieu. Feel free to forget the name.

Edward the Confessor

Edward's life was a series of contrasts.

Son of an English king (Ethelred The Unready), he nevertheless spent much of his life in Normandy, making Norman French friends.

Although so pious that he was called "The Confessor," when he became king in 1042 he ruthlessly deprived his mother of all her estates because he felt she had neglected him as a child.

Although he married Edith in 1045, he had taken a vow of celibacy that meant he would produce no heir. (What Edith thought of this is unknown.)

Although his father-in-law was Godwin of Wessex, one of his most powerful retainers, he and Godwin were frequently at odds. When Edward asked Godwin to punish some of his subjects who had hassled the king's Norman friends, Godwin refused and raised an army to fight Edward. Unfortunately for Godwin, none of the other great lords wanted to join him, so Godwin found himself losing and had to choose exile for himself.

Although Edward should have learned his lesson regarding Norman vs. Anglo-Saxon friction, Edward increased the number of Norman councilors. The Anglo-Saxon population disliked this so much that they supported Godwin when an invasion by his two sons, Harold and Tostig, took place in 1052. Godwin was allowed to return. Godwin forced Edward to send the Normans away.

Although he had unhappy dealings with Godwin's family, when Godwin died in 1053, Edward named Godwin's son Harold the heir of Edward.

Although he named Harold his heir, William of Normandy claimed that Edward had named William his heir in 1051. When Edward died in 1066, the stage was set for conflict.

Pre-Parliament Notes

Early Anglo-Saxon England was filled with clans and communities that made policies and laws and settled disputes during a regular gathering called the folkmoot (meeting of the people), in which all free members of the clan or district participated.

From before the 7th century until the 11th century, the folkmoot evolved into the witenagemot, the meeting (gemot) of the wise men (witena, singular witan). Sometimes this was called simply the Witan. The Witan consisted of the more powerful members of the tribe or district, and their function was nationwide, as advisers to the king. Although the term appears only nine times prior to 1066 in English records, and its functions are not documented—this was long before England's love of meticulous record-keeping—it is clear that an assembly of this kind had great importance prior to the political upheaval of the Norman Invasion.

The power of the Witan may have altered over time, but there is evidence that they had a role in kingly succession. When King Æthelred the Unready* fled England in 1013, driven out by Sweyn Forkbeard (King of Denmark and parts of Norway), the Witan proclaimed Sweyn king on Christmas Day. When Sweyn died five weeks later, the Witan called Ethelred back from Normandy and re-proclaimed him king—but only if he promised to be a better ruler. (He promised.)

Witan was actually used in several contexts to refer to a group of advisers or decision-making bodies for different levels of society. We find references to theodwitan (people's witan), Angolcynnes witan (England witan), and one archbishop advised bishops, when they travel, to take a witan with them for help.


*The term "Unready" meant not that he was ill-prepared, but that he was ill-advised; it is from rede which means "advice."

How Does the Sun Work?

Robert Grosseteste (c.1175-1235) is considered by some to be the founder of modern English intellectualism. Among other topics, he focused (pun intended) on light. One of his works seeks to explain how the sun produces heat.

He first explains the three methods of heat generation:

1. An object that is hot
2. Motion/Friction
3. The scattering of rays

He determines that Method 1 cannot apply here. For heat to transfer from a hot object, there must be a medium through which it travels, and that medium will heat up during the transfer of heat. Clearly everything between the sun and us does not heat up.

He decided that Method 2 is also insufficient to explain the heat, because the motion that creates heat is caused by two substances moving in opposite directions—for instance, rubbing your hands together to warm them up—and the sun's circular motion does not act upon a second substance moving in an opposite direction: everything up there moves from east to west.

Method 3, he decides, must pertain. He reminds his reader that Euclid explains how a concave mirror can focus the sun's rays to cause a fire. He states that the sun's rays falling upon the earth are scattered, but reflection by a mirror or refraction by a (clear) spherical body can change the direction of the rays, focusing them via the medium of the dense air and generating heat. For him, this has much to do with the denseness of the medium: he tells us that the same amount of light falls on a mountaintop and scattering can be observed there, but the thinness of the medium of air disallows the generation of heat.

Fourth Meal

The Middle Ages had some serious opinions about meals, especially about how many there should be, and when they should be taken.

Breakfast
The need to break the all-night fasting in the morning was common among peasants and tradesmen who started their day early and got to work. It was not generally observed by the upper classes—perhaps because they slept later than peasants, and didn't get right to heavy work—and moralists frowned on it so strongly that some gentlemen felt the need to express shame for eating upon first rising.

Dinner
What eventually became the noon meal was considered the substantial meal of the day, a needed repast because of what you had been doing, and energy for the rest of the day.

Supper
From the word meaning "to sup," supper was served later and was simpler, often involving soup or sops: bread dipped in some tasty liquid.

...and that should have been enough. The sun would be down soon, and sleep would beckon. There was, however, a trend among the profligate that peeved the moralists but delighted the partakers.

If breakfast and little in-between meals drew the ire of moralists, how much more so the late meal after supper known as the reresoper. It was condemned unanimously by the church and heads of households as an unnecessary extravagance and an indulgence. Ranging from a full meal to just some snacks accompanied by lots of alcoholic drink, the reresoper was usually enjoyed by a few friends in a private room rather than the whole household in the hall, as was proper. Loud laughter, crude jokes, gambling, and flirting were some of the vices associated with this meal, which often dragged on until after midnight and resulted in many a hangover the next day. [Food in Medieval Times]

Reresoper [the rear-supper, that follows regular supper]
If it wasn't enjoyed by "heads of households" then one pictures the younger generation unwilling to follow a philosophy of "early to bed, early to rise," and instead staying up late and carousing. I cannot help thinking that Taco Bell's "Fourth Meal" marketing campaign serves exactly the same population.

Oxford—Daily Student Life

The daily schedule of the medieval Oxford student was very different from what modern college students go through. For the first few centuries, there were no dorms, and students would room at a "Hall" connected to their college and run by a "Principal." Separate rooms devoted to lectures were not always available, and lectures were given in a room at the Hall or in the Master's own house or rented room. Fires were not allowed in college rooms—any college rooms—and the probable lack of chairs or benches meant you were standing in bitter cold for hours during part of the year.

Lectures were given from 6:00 a.m. until 10:00, when the first food of the day was made available at the Hall.* Dinner was served from 10:00 until 11:00, followed by free time until noon. Afternoon lectures were given from noon until 5:00 p.m.

Homework as we think of it (daily amounts of reading from a text that every student owned; regularly written essays) was unknown. Evenings were free, therefore, for gambling, chess, drinking and socializing; musical instruments could be played in the evening.

NO jousting, hunting, or hawking were allowed. One reason given was that, since they were expensive pastimes and therefore the province of the wealthy, engaging in them created a social divide between students from different economic classes.

Lectures might be offered on Sundays, or else they could be used for worship. Church holidays were free of lectures.

At the end of the term, the student body and Masters were gathered together at a meeting called the collect. Masters would discuss each student in turn, listing attendance violations, "grading" performance, and then assessing fees. Tuition was collected at this meeting—hence the name. N.B., students paid for the learning they received, they did not pay up front. This is not to say that you could hang out in Oxford, skip classes, and save the money that your parents sent you with: skipping a lecture for a subject you were supposed to be studying meant a fine of two pennies!

_______________
*This lack of breakfast will be addressed in the June 9 post.

Plato Bridges the Big Bang & Genesis

Plato's Timaeus contains a description of the origin of the universe that was much discussed in the Middle Ages. For Plato (or for Socrates, the speaker), all that exists began as a formless chaos, with all elements mixed. Understanding that effects have a cause, he postulates a force he names the Demiurge that acts upon the chaos and gives it shapes that conform to ideal forms that exist in the Demiurge's "mind." He further explains that, for him, each minutest particle of an element had a regular shape. He uses geometric forms:

• Fire = Tetrahedron
• Earth = Cube
• Air = Octahedron
• Water = Icosahedron

Some have noticed that his description of the origin of the universe seems to anticipate the Big Bang Theory; Mohr and Sattler go into more detail in One Book, The Whole Universe: Plato's Timaeus Today.

The Middle Ages, however, had its own version of the origin of everything to which it compared Plato. St. Ambrose (c.340-397) considered the differences between Plato and Genesis to be Plato's "errors." Ambrose's student, St. Augustine, however, embraces the similarities, specially appreciating Plato's contention that, since the world around us seems pretty good to us, it must be because the Demiurge was determined to make a world that was as good as it could be. The growing field of philosophy found more and more use for Plato in developing a "modern" world view.

Of course not all of Plato was palatable to all later thinkers. Plato tells us that the Demiurge:

• Made the world into the shape of a globe, the ideal shape to encompass all other forms.
• Imparted circular movement to the world, as the most uniform and suited to an ideal shape.
• Created the soul of the world, linking all things on the earth with each other.

But even later ages would learn to appreciate the idea of the Earth as a globe, that it rotates on its axis, and that the Earth is a complex ecosystem of interlocking parts. Not too shabby.

Occupy (Medieval) London! Part 5 (of 5)

...and he's only 14!

So...

Tens of thousands have damaged London and remain a threat. King Richard goes out to calm them down and promise them he will treat them well, but while he's doing that, they storm the Tower of London and behead the Archbishop of Canterbury (who is also Chancellor) and the Lord Treasurer—and at the same time they hassle the king's mother. But he meets with them the next day anyway—king's word is his bond, right? The rebel leader acts like a jerk (so we're told, by the guys on the opposite side of the argument), and is killed. The front of the line of rebels—standing far back—see him go from his horse to the ground. They suspect treachery, and start to raise weapons and get loud.

The fourteen-year-old king spurs his horse forward, right up to the rebels, alone. He asks them if they really wish to shoot at their king. In the embarrassed confusion that follows, he raises his sword and says "You shall have no leader but me!" He tells them that all is well, Tyler has in fact just been knighted (which pleases the crowd, although it is completely counter to the idea of social equality behind which they marched), and that they should follow Richard to an open area outside of London. The crowd, enthralled that this boy, king by divine right, is willing to be their leader, follows him into open fields, which allows the nobles with 7000 militia (pulled together in the previous 48 hours) to surround them. The rebels are combed through to find the leaders. The followers are easily dispersed. The concessions offered by the king are revoked.

Jack Straw and John Ball are found (according to Froissart) hiding in an old house, thinking they had escaped. John Ball is executed on July 15; presumably, Jack Straw is also executed around the same time.

Other revolts against the upper classes took place in Europe, and statutes intended to restrict workers for the good of society were enacted several times over the next few centuries, but the Peasants' Revolt stands out in England for how quickly it surged, and how easily and quickly it was quelled.

(And then Richard went on to invent the handkerchief.)

Occupy (Medieval) London! Part 4 (of 5)

June 12th

Wat Tyler and thousands of middle- and lower-class followers reached Blackheath by June 12th, and heard John Ball's famous sermon. Stirred with egalitarian fervor, they marched to London, crossing London Bridge unopposed the next day. Meanwhile, Jack Straw's Essex group had also arrived. They did not engage in widespread or mindless looting: their targets were symbolic of what they thought was wrong with the country. Only certain buildings were attacked.

John of Gaunt would have been a target, had he been present. The king's uncle and a shrewd and powerful politician, Gaunt was thought by the crowd to be undermining the authority of the 14-year-old monarch. What the crowd likely did not know was that the same Lollard tendencies toward social equality and against church corruption that motivated John Ball were also of great interest to John of Gaunt. Fortunately for Gaunt--and history--Gaunt was patrolling the border of Scotland at the time.

Still, the rebels found a target in Gaunt's home, the Savoy on the banks of the Thames, considered the grandest home in London. It was looted before being burned, and anything precious found therein was destroyed or thrown into the river. Legend says that a rebel who tried to keep a silver cup for himself was set upon by his comrades and killed.

On June 13th, King Richard II addressed the rebels himself, offering them several concessions. Something in the quality of the bold young boy (he was 14) calmed them, and a parlay was agreed upon. Unfortunately, while Richard was addressing one group, another large group entered the Tower of London complex. There they found who they considered to be two of the architects of their troubled land: the Archbishop of Canterbury Simon Sudbury, and the Lord Treasurer Robert Hales. Both were dragged to Tower Hill and beheaded.

On June 14th, Richard and the Lord Mayor of London,William Walworth, along with a contingent of soldiers, met the rebels at Smithfield to discuss the end of the revolt. Wat Tyler rode alone to address the king, but he was so insolent (so say reports) that Walworth hacked at Tyler's neck with his sword, whereupon a knight, Sir John Cavendish, killed Tyler by running him through with his sword.

...and then it got really interesting.

[to be continued]

Occupy (Medieval) London! Part 3 (of 5)

Wat Tyler & Jack Straw

The Peasants' Revolt was not just the result of a stirring sermon by John Ball. All of the counties of Kent and Essex were stirred up by an incident that started May 30, 1381. One of the king's servants went to the village of Fobbing and attempted to collect the poll tax that had been announced in 1379. He was refused any money, which prompted a visit by Chief Justice Robert Belknap to investigate and punish the villagers. He was attacked on June 2nd at the village of Brentwood.

Walter "Wat" Tyler (we call him "Tyler" because he worked in the roofing trade) comes into the story as an outraged father who killed a tax collector who had molested Tyler's daughter. There is some confusion, caused by the presence of more than one Tyler in the crowd. A recently discovered account from the time suggests that, the rebels already having been stirred up in Kent, they chose a "Wat Tyler" from Maidstone to lead them on or after June 7th, after those rebels took Rochester Castle.

Jack Straw is known even less, but he was one of the leaders of the rebels. Some historians think he was simply a pseudonym for Wat Tyler, but Froissart (who may not have observed the events, but was alive at the time and knew people close to the situation), makes it clear that Straw and Tyler were different people. Thomas Walsingham, a monk who wrote down much of the history of England during the reigns of Richard II, Henry IV and Henry V, claims Straw was a priest and led a group of rebels from Bury St. Edmunds and Mildenhall to London.

There was also a John Wrawe, who had been a vicar in Suffolk and led a group from that county.

A majority of the rebels on the move--mostly the large group from Kent led by Wat Tyler—met at Blackheath and heard the sermon from John Ball with the famous line "When Adam delved and Eve span, who was then the gentleman?" By June 12th, these groups were either listening to John Ball or approaching London from a different direction. Tempers were rising, and the lower classes were ready to make a statement.

[to be continued]

Occupy (Medieval) London! Part 2 (of 5)

The Peasants' Revolt--Other Causes

The lower classes were not just worked up by a sermon about social equality, or the statutes that tried to maintain wages at lower levels.

Poll Tax
At a time when annual taxation was unknown, the unexpected declaration of any tax could be a cause for concern: a tax that did not seem equitable was especially unwelcome. The Poll Tax of 1377 was a flat rate of 4 pence, and was do-able. Another poll tax in 1379, however, was not a flat rate, nor so small. Some of the poor were given reduced rates, but others had to pay the full rate of 12 pence, three times the rate of just two years earlier.

The King
Edward III died in 1377, leaving the throne to his grandson Richard II, aged 10. In 1381, the king being only 14, the country was still being run by regents who were considered unpopular, including the Archbishop of Canterbury (Simon Sudbury) who was considered the embodiment of a corrupt church, and the Lord Treasurer (Sir Robert Hales), who instituted the poll taxes. The air of majesty that surrounded a king still existed for the masses, and they considered the authority of these other lords (who included the king's uncle, John of Gaunt) improper.

These factors were already reflected in some acts of social unrest taking place in the spring and summer of 1381. More on them tomorrow.

Occupy (Medieval) London! Part 1 (of 5)

The Peasants' Revolt of 1381

The statutes that attempted to restrict the peasant workforce to pre-Plague levels of wages, etc., did not please the lower classes. Social unrest needs a nucleus, however, a focus, and one was found in John Ball.

John Ball (c.1338-1381) was a priest and a "Lollard." (Lollardy, among other things, rejected the idea that the aristocracy were "better.") Ball's traveling roadshow of social equality did not please the Archbishop of Canterbury, who imprisoned Ball in the archbishop's palace in Kent, 30 miles southeast of London. This did not sit well with Ball's many fans, who broke him out of prison. He and they traveled toward London, and in a field in Blackheath, he preached an open-air sermon to a large crowd on a topic that became a motto for the lower class:

When Adam dalf [delved, digged], and Eve span, who was thanne a gentilman? From the beginning all men were created equal by nature, and that servitude had been introduced by the unjust and evil oppression of men, against the will of God, who, if it had pleased Him to create serfs, surely in the beginning of the world would have appointed who should be a serf and who a lord... 

He concluded with exhortations to root out those who brought harm to the community: the lords of the realm, and the lawyers and justices and jurors. The crowd, roused to a frenzy, began the five-mile march to London.

[to be continued]

Peasants

"Free"dom isn't "free"

Before discussing the first "Occupy" movement--the Peasants' Revolt of 1381--I thought I would first briefly address the topic of peasants.

One unexpected facet to life as a peasant in Medieval England was that you could be either free or unfree. There were, in fact, several levels of "free"dom represented by various terms:

• sokeman
• villan/villein
• bordar
• cottar/cottager
• slave

Being "free" had disadvantages as well as benefits. The unfree peasant was tied to a lord and that lord's domains. His fate and his family's was bound to that place, and he worked for the lord. The benefit, however, was that he had a place to live, and the lord was obligated to make sure his tenants thrived (or else he would lose his workforce).

You could free yourself by marrying a freeman, or else by running away and living elsewhere for a year without being discovered and dragged back (and likely punished with fines, etc.). Finding employment as a runaway peasant wasn't that easy, however.

Something curious arises from a study of inheritance records: medieval English peasants often had saved sufficient funds to purchase their freedom; purchasing their freedom is rare, however, as evidenced by how much money they leave to their inheritors. Why would this be?

The free peasant could rent land from a lord, or purchase and work his own land; his obligations to the lord (in the form of taxes/tithes) was less than that of the unfree peasant. The freeman could uproot and travel to greener pastures, if they were available. The lord, however, had no obligation to take pity on the freeman if the harvest was bad. Being free meant being free to sink or swim on your own. The unfree peasant had stable expectations for what he owed the lord that did not change from year to year and could be planned for. The lord could raise the rent on the freeman, if he felt like it. The unfree peasant was a dependent on whom the lord himself depended for labor. This symbiotic relationship lasted for centuries, until thrown off-kilter by the Bubonic Plague.