The Siege of Ragusa

A 9th-century Arab dynasty almost ended the city of Dubrovnik in its infancy. At the time, it was called Ragusa, founded about 615CE by refugees fleeing the destruction of the Roman city Epidaurum during the war between the Avars and Slavs. Ragusa/Dubrovnik was an ideal spot, having a sandy shore onto which boats could be dragged when not plying the waves, and a source of fresh water for the inhabitants.

They built their town with the natural timber found all over, namely the Holm Oak, whose name in Croatian, dubrava, gave the town its later name. Mindful of their war-torn origin, they fortified the town against possible invaders.

Invaders came in the form of the Aghlabids of Ifriqiya, functioning as pirates and looking for new territory to conquer. Byzantine records state that the Aghlabids launched a campaign against the south-eastern coasts of the Adriatic in 866. They succeeded in plundering cities along the coast until they reached Ragusa. Finding the city fortified, they set up a siege, intending to wait out the inhabitants.

Ragusa turned out to be better prepared than expected; they withstood the siege for fifteen months! They could not last indefinitely, however, and snuck messengers out of the city to request aid from the Byzantine Empire. Byzantium had once controlled and patrolled the region but had allowed that vigilance to subside; it was their absence that enabled the Aghlabids to invade.

The latest emperor, however, wished to re-assert control over areas to the west. Emperor Basil I sent a fleet of 100 ships under the command of admiral Niketas Oryphas. News of the Byzantine fleet's approach caused the Aghlabids to withdraw. Admiral Oryphas planned future expeditions to push Saracens out of the region, slowly returning the Adriatic and southern Italy to Christian rule.

Every 3 February modern Dubrovnik celebrates with parades and several days of festivities in honor of their patron saint, Sveti Vlaho, or, as he is better known in the West, Saint Blaise. Let me tell you his story next time.

Ragusa to Dubrovnik

The modern city of Dubrovnik began as a town called Ragusa, founded by Romans fleeing war. From its start in the 7th century, it developed into a forward-looking community as well as an important port city on the eastern Adriatic coast.

King Stjepan I of Croatia gave a grant of land that extended Ragusa's rule 16km north along the coast. The region was covered in the Holm Oak, which is significant for two reasons. Holm Oaks can grow close to 100 feet tall, making it suitable for large construction projects like community structures and ship-building.

The second significant point is in the Croatian word for the Holm Oak: dubrava. This evolved into the name of the city, and Ragusa in the late Renaissance became increasingly known as Dubrovnik.

Dubrovnik was no ordinary medieval city. Roman architectural knowledge enabled them to fortify the city that would allow them to withstand long sieges by Arabs in the early days of the city's development. During war between Byzantines and Normans, when Venice started expanding its authority over the region, the annoyed Ragusans fought for more and more independence from other distant powers. When Pope Calixtus II elevated their bishop's diocese to an archbishopric in 1120, they gained more autonomy in the region.

In 1358, Dubrovnik finally freed itself from Venetian rule when war between Venice and Hungary-Croatia forced Venice to relinquish influence over its possessions in Dalmatia. A few years later, Venice tried to get revenge by forbidding its boats from trading with Dubrovnik and other Dalmatian ports. This merely prompted Dubrovnik to seek trade elsewhere, building even larger ships that could manage longer voyages along the wider Mediterranean routes. In 1365 Dubrovnik negotiated a trade deal with the Ottomans, since they were now sailing to Egypt and the Levant. Dubrovnik even grew strong enough to start expanding its territory, annexing some islands in southern Dalmatia. In the 1500s, Dubrovnik was trading with India and even the Americas.

One of their impressive achievements was a very early one: resisting an Arab siege for 15 months. Next time I'll tell you about the Siege of Ragusa, and how it might have ended the Republic of Ragusa and the growth of Dubrovnik when it was still in its youth.

The Pearl of the Adriatic

The oldest apothecary in Europe was founded in Dubrovnik, in southern Dalmatia in Croatia. At the time, it was called Ragusa; to be fair, it was called both names for centuries, "Ragusa" being used since the 10th century (it was the center of the "Republic of Ragusa") and "Dubrovnik" showing up a century later as the town name and widely used in the 16th and 17th centuries up to now. 

It was founded in the 7th century by Romans from the south fleeing fighting between Slavs and Avars. Byzantium initially protected this part of the world, but later it would fall (like much of the Adriatic coast) under control by Venice.

One of the things Ragusa became known for was ship-building; in fact, they built their ships indoors because their methods were so innovative that spies wanted to copy them.

A very forward-thinking city, they adopted a code of laws and public services that sound very modern. A medical service was started in 1301, the apothecary mentioned above was established in a monastery in 1317 and still functions today. In 1347 they opened an almshouse (just in time for the Bubonic Plague which arrived a year later), and a quarantine hospital in 1377. Ragusa established a separate town outside the walls for those suffering from leprosy. 

Their law only allowed a doctor to be paid when the patient was healed. A female doctor was mentioned in records in 1325. A service for removing garbage from the town was first recorded in 1415. The city paved the streets, and shop-owners were required to sweep the area in front of their shop. Aqueducts and sewage systems were installed in 1436. Underground silos were built that could hold 1200 tons of grain (which they had to import). They voted to abolish slavery in 1416.

Ragusa/Dubrovnik has so much fascinating history that I want to continue this tomorrow.

The Plague Continues

The Bubonic Plague, also called the "Black Death," first hit the European Middle Ages primarily in 1348-1351, but that wasn't the end. To be fair, it was revving up to the east long before 1348. It was responsible for deaths in the 1200s in China. In the 1340s it was killing people living around the Black Sea. In fact, we know that it existed among rodent populations high up in the Alps.

How do we know this?

The spread of the plague has been better understood in recent decades thanks to modern science and the sequencing of genomes. The bacterium Yersinia pestis has been sequenced, and modern science can detect it from bones of the long-dead. In many cases, those bones are easier to identify because the plague killed so many so fast that the corpses were thrown into mass graves quickly. In fact, the approach of the plague did prompt preparation: the mass graves in London were dug before the plague actually arrived. (The illustration shows a mass grave of plague victims in France.)

Therefore, by examining skeletons from different eras, we can track the spread and durability of the plague, which was endemic in Europe after the mid-14th century appearance. Plague returned approximately every decade or so for centuries. Whatever the cause (see the link in the first paragraph), folk realized they should try to stay away from those who were infected. This led to quarantining when news of a plague resurgence came to a community. You could either barricade yourself in your house or escape the town. In 1377, the town of Ragusa on the Adriatic initiated the first wide-spread, mandatory quarantine. In the second half of the 1400s, quarantines were common around the Mediterranean, whose warm weather and coastal ports allowed plague to thrive and spread.

Ragusa actually had a reputation for doctors. If you search for Ragusa on a map today, it will show you a city in southern Sicily, not on the coast of the Adriatic. That's because it's got a different name now: Dubrovnik. Let's talk about its medieval history tomorrow.

Causes of the Bubonic Plague

The Bubonic Plague's first appearance in medieval Europe from 1348-1351, and it was terrifying. At least one-quarter to one-third of the population died in those few years; entire villages were depopulated, and no country was untouched.

King Philip VI of France asked the University of Paris to determine the cause. Forty-nine members of the medical staff studied the matter and wrote the Paris Concilium.

They produced more than one theory of why humans were suffering from it, while maintaining that the plague was too mysterious for human beings to ever truly understand the origin. They drew from the available authorities: Avicenna's work on pestilential fever, Aristotle's Meteorology on weather phenomena and putrefaction, Hippocrates' Epidemics on astrology in medicine.

Their theories:

—The Concilium followed Aristotle's idea that a conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn was disastrous. Albertus Magnus believed a conjunction of Jupiter and Mars would bring plague. A conjunction of Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars took place in 1345 right after solar and lunar eclipses, under the sign of Aquarius, compounding the disastrous effects of the planets. Jupiter was sanguine, hot and wet—the worst combination that would lead to putrefaction.

—Another possible cause was poisonous gases released during earthquakes. Disadvantageous conjunctions of constellations produced winds that distributed gases rising from rotting carcasses in swamps. The poisonous vapors would be inhaled and go straight to the heart (they thought the heart was the organ of respiration), and then cause the body's vital organs to rot from the inside.

—There was also the possibility of God's punishment for man's wickedness.

Of course, there was no reason to believe that these causes were mutually exclusive.

The plague was devastating, and also didn't end in 1351. It remained endemic to Europe, as I'll discuss next time.

A Few Medical Firsts

Gentile da Foligno was a physician who learned his art at Padua and Bologna and then became a teacher—quite a wealthy one, as it happens. At the University of Perugia in Siena he made 60 gold florins per year (1322 - 1324). He then went back to his origin at the request of the Lord of Padua, Ubertino I da Carrara.

Besides teaching, he produced several medical treatises. One was a massive and widely copied commentary covering the Canon of Medicine by Avicenna. The Nuremberg Chronicle of 1493 referred to him as Subtilissimus rimator verborum Avicenne, "that most subtle investigator of Avicenna's teachings"; the illustration above shows Gentile learning "at the feet of Avicenna."

He is said to have performed the first medical dissection in centuries. Even the Romans, for all their search for knowledge, did not approve of cutting open the deceased. Examining the insides of the human body was necessary for starting to learn how organs work; for example, how liquids flow through the body.

Foligno wrote a commentary on urine and suggested that the blood passes through "porous tubules" (per poros euritides) in the kidneys, which strain it and pass the urine to the bladder. He was also the first to suggest that a fast pulse rate led to higher urine output (as a faster metabolism would). He also believed there was a correlation between the heart and the color of urine. A Journal of Nephrology article says he may have been the first cardionephrologist in history.

He also wrote a popular treatise on the Black Death, and recommended theriac for its treatment. Unfortunately, theriac preparation was complex and time-consuming, so there may not have been enough of it to go around. Not that it would have helped: presumably Foligno would have had access to some; however, he died of the plague at its start, on 18 June 1348.

To cure the plague, you would probably want to know what caused it, and that was a puzzle. Tomorrow I'll tell you of the Paris Consilium, who believed they had the answer.

The Poison that Cures

It started with King Mithridates IV of Pontus (132 - 63 BCE), who was afraid of being poisoned. He wanted to know all about poisons, so he not only tested them on criminals so he would understand their symptoms (and antidotes), but also he ingested the poisons himself in order to build tolerance. His personal physician developed for him a universal antidote which he named mithridatum, composed of 40 ingredients, including opium, myrrh, saffron, ginger, and cinnamon.

Mithridates' method of self-inoculation worked so well that, when he was captured by Pompey, he tried to poison himself, but the poison had no effect. His writings about developing the cure-all was found by Pompey's people and translated into Latin. Nero's physician added more ingredients, most notably mashed and roasted viper's flesh.

The search for a panacea, a universal cure, has a long history. Mithridatum is one example. The Greek physician Galen (mentioned many times in this blog) wrote an entire book on the making of his cure-all; he called it Galene after himself, but it also became known as theriac (from the Greek word for a wild beast); it contained viper's flesh, opium, honey, wine, cinnamon, and more than 70 other ingredients. It needed to ferment for six years and then be applied orally or topically; it kept its potency for 40 years.

In the 7th century a theriac made by the inhabitants of Anatolia was given to the emperor of the Tang Dynasty. The Tang apothecary declared its usefulness against a hundred illnesses. The Middle East called it Tiryaq. Medieval English apothecaries called it "Venice Treacle" because it came from the Mediterranean, and was distributed by the Worshipful Company of Grocers. "Treacle"? Yes. Produced from cane sugar, the thick and sweet syrup was considered "good for what ails you"; the word is actually linked to theriac. In modern medicine, the word "treacle" is defined as

A medicinal compound once in wide use as an antidote to poisons. Treacle was a kind of salve. It was reputed to be a remedy against venomous bites in particular and against poisons in general. It also came to be considered a "cure" for cancer. [source]

In Henry Grosmont's 1354 treatise,  Le Livre de Seyntz Medicines or "The Book of Holy Medicines," he mentions theriac: "the treacle is made of poison so that it can destroy other poisons."

You may ask: if they believed it was so effective, wouldn't they try to make vast amounts to keep on hand? Would they try it as a cure for the Bubonic Plague? Well, one man thought that was a good idea, but ... well, we can talk about him next time.

Grosmont's Observations

The 1st Duke of Lancaster, Henry Grosmont, the wealthiest and most popular peer of the realm, wrote a book about his sins and the way to heal or atone for them using the metaphor of sin as sickness. This book, Le Livre de Seyntz Medicines or "The Book of Holy Medicines" also includes many autobiographical notes, as well as comments and observations that give us insight into the beliefs and culture of mid-14th century England.

Regarding the medical metaphors: we don't know that Grosmont himself had a large library, but his writing suggests a well-read man who could draw on other sources for his knowledge and ideas. Also, he would have had access to Leicester Abbey's library near his home, which at the time held at least 80 books on medicine. He also—as many nobles would— had a personal physician from Bologna from whom he would have learned much. (Bologna was known for training physicians, such as Jacob Mantino and Guy de Chauliac.)

His own physician probably gave him the information mentioned here that theriac is a good poison for driving out other poisons; however, if the patient is too far gone because of poison, theriac will only make things worse. He also offers the cure for delirium by slicing open a live young rooster and placing the cockerel on the patient's head.

During Grosmont's lifetime, Pope Urban V (whose personal physician was Guy de Chauliac) founded the medical University of Montpelier. One of its features was the collection of the bodies of executed criminals for dissection and research. Grosmont wishes his own soul could be opened up in this way to examine and understand his sin.

Some less medical or religious comments are about things like salmon. They understood that salmon are born in freshwater streams then head out to the ocean only to return to their streams to spawn. He expresses that a salmon born in a stream is not truly a salmon because it has not gone through its life cycle of stream-ocean-stream. He also tells us that goat's milk is ideally drunk in Spring, because the goat has only dined on new fresh plants at that time. Grosmont also offers a recipe for chicken soup, and how to know if a pomegranate is fresh.

In 1360, Grosmont was chief negotiator of the Treaty of Brétigny, ending a phase of the Hundred Years War. When he returned to England from the continent late in that year, he fell ill. Although only about 50 years old, he died on 23 March 1361. There was a resurgence of the Bubonic Plague that year, but it was not being noted until May, so we cannot attribute his death to it. He also wrote up a will 10 days before his death, so whatever prompted him to do so took longer to kill him than the Plague would. He was buried in the Church of the Annunciation of Our Lady of the Newarke ("New Work") in Leicester, which Grosmont had founded in 1354.

I am thinking that paragraph three above mentions something that would be unfamiliar to most readers. Tomorrow I'll explain theriac. See you then.

The Book of Holy Medicine

Unlike his contemporaries, Henry Grosmont was very forthcoming about his feelings about religion by writing an autobiographical treatise called Le Livre de Seyntz Medicines, "The Book of Holy Medicines" or "The Book of Holy Doctors."

Written in his early forties, in 1354, he employs the metaphor of his body as a castle and the Seven Deadly Sins as enemies entering through breaches in his defenses, making him ill. To combat this, he needs the services of a doctor in the person of Jesus Christ, who is accompanied by a nurse, the Virgin Mary.

Grosmont is willing in this work to lay bare all of his spiritual failings. As a younger man, he laments that he wishes he had "as much covetousness for the kingdom of heaven as I had for £100 of land" and that his body caused him to sin, as when his feet would bring him wine instead of being willing to go on a holy pilgrimage.

It is an unusual work in that it was written by a layman instead of a cleric or a mystic like, for example, Julian of Norwich or Margery Kempe. Whether it was written by Grosmont himself or he used a "ghost writer" or simply dictated it cannot be known for certain, but that he claimed it as his work is shown by a postscript (seen above, with the name marked in red):

Cest livre estoit comencee et parfaite en l'an de grace Nostre Seignur Jesu Crist MCCCLIIII. Et le fist un fole cheitif peccheour qe l'en appelle ERTSACNAL ED CUD IRNEH, a qi Dieux ses malfaitz pardoynt. Amen.

This book was begun and perfected in the year of grace of Our Lord Jesu Crist MCCCLIIII. And the fist is a foolish sinful sinner who calls him ERTSACNAL ED CUD IRNEH, to whom Gods forgive his misdeeds. Amen.

He humbly hides his name by writing backwards "Henri Duc de Lancastre" as the "fist," the hand that wrote it.

An argument against Grosmont merely hiring a writer to make himself look more pious is that his actions in life also demonstrated piety. He used his vast wealth to support churches and colleges and many clerics. Also, remember that Crusading was a religious act, not just about war. During a battle of the Hundred Years War, when the citizens of Bergerac begged for mercy, Grosmont is said to have replied "who prays for mercy shall have mercy."

Besides being a spiritual work, Le Livre de Seyntz Medicines also grants us a look into what the culture of 14th century England believed about the world. I'll talk more about that tomorrow, and Grosmont's end.

Henry Grosmont

Henry of Grosmont was a second cousin of King Edward III through their shared ancestry as great-grandsons of Henry III. Henry was the son of Henry, the 3rd Earl of Lancaster, and Maud Chaworth. Although one of seven children, he was the only male, and so inherited much more than he would have if he had brothers.

He was born about 1310 at Grosmont Castle in Wales. He referred to himself in his memoirs as tall, slim, and good-looking. During his youth his father—the wealthiest peer in England—was hostile to the excesses of Edward II; his youth must have been full of radical national events. His family's relationship to the Crown improved once Edward III was enthroned. In fact, Henry's father—although old and nearly blind—was chosen to ceremoniously knight Edward at the Coronation.

Henry was knighted the same year and, because of his father's increasing infirmity, represented his father in parliament and at the King's Council. He took over the management of his father's estates, including Bolingbroke Castle and the Savoy in London.

Henry and Edward III were only two years apart in age, which probably helped their personal relationship. Henry distinguished himself with Edward and on Edward's behalf in a dozen battles of the Hundred Years War, the Second War of Scottish Independence, as well as the "Northern Crusades" in the Baltics.

In 1345, Edward decided to attack France. As part of this campaign, Henry arrived at Bordeaux in August with 500 men-at-arms and 1500 archers (500 of the archers were mounted), as well as support troops. He was very successful at surprising the enemy with swift attacks: they were accustomed to the English setting up long, drawn-out sieges. While there, Henry's father died, making young Henry the Earl of Lancaster and the wealthiest peer of the realm. He also inherited the Barony of Halton (which would also pass to his son-in-law John of Gaunt, and then John's son Henry Bolingbroke, who would become King Henry IV).

In 1347, the king elevated Henry to the rare title of duke, in this case Duke of Lancaster. With the title he was granted palatinate powers, a condition available in England, Ireland, and Wales that allowed the person holding it to operate almost independently from the Crown.  This was an enormous amount of power for the king to "give away," but since Henry had no male heir, this seemed to be a gift to Henry that would not go further than his lifetime.

Edward also made Henry a founding member of the new Order of the Garter. 

Much of his life can be determined from his own writing. Tomorrow I'd like to talk about something he wrote: Le Livre de Seyntz Medicines, "The Book of Holy Medicine."

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.

Henry IV and His Cousin

If Richard II had treated his cousin Henry Bolingbroke a little better, Richard might have stayed king for at least a few more decades. As it happened, Henry forced Richard to relinquish the crown (portrayed here by an anonymous 15th century artist). Richard was to be allowed to retire comfortably after Henry deposed him.

Unfortunately, several of the lords who had supported Richard—and been demoted under the new King Henry IV—planned to murder Henry and restore Richard. Their plot was foiled and the actors executed without trial, but it showed the danger in allowing Richard to be free and the focal point of rebellion.

He was incarcerated in Pontefract Castle around St. Valentine's Day 1400. The constable of Pontefract was Thomas Swynford, a son of Katherine Swynford's first marriage before she married Henry's father John of Gaunt. It is assumed that he died of starvation, possibly self-inflicted. On 17 February his body was displayed in St. Paul's Cathedral—we don't know when he really died, of course—and then interred on 6 March at King's Langley Priory, a Dominican establishment near one of the royal palaces in Hertfordshire. He was only 33.

Despite the public display of the body, there were always rumors that he was still alive. The Duke of Albany in Scotland hosted a man claiming to be Richard at Stirling Castle. He was the catalyst for conspiracy theories in England about Lancastrian intrigues and even some Lollard rumors. Henry's administration simply ignored the rumors right up to the man's death in 1419, but the Dominican friary in Stirling buried him as a king.

Henry IV's son became Henry V in March 1413, and felt the need to atone for his father's usurpation and treatment of Richard. In December of 1413 he re-interred Richard's body from King's Langley to Westminster Abbey as befitted a king of England. There was already a spot for him there, in the elaborate tomb he had made for himself and his wife, Anne of Bohemia.

Let's get away from kings and killing for a bit (well, not completely, as you will see), and talk about the history of Pontefract Castle. I hope you'll check back tomorrow.

Bolingbroke

Edward III of England had several sons. His eldest was also Edward, known as The Black Prince. Another was John of Gaunt. Prince Edward had a son named Richard. Prince John had a son named Henry Bolingbroke. When Edward III died, his heir was Richard, the son of his eldest who had predeceased him. John by that time was Duke of Lancaster, inheriting the title (and vast property) through his father-in-law.

John supported his nephew's accession to the throne, despite the fears of many (including many in parliament) that John might want to take the throne for himself; John was very powerful, wealthy, and shrewd. Richard and his uncle John did not always see eye-to-eye, nor Richard and parliament. John's son Henry had at one point been named a Lord Appellant, a group created to manage the kingdom and supervise Richard, who had become capricious. When Richard had opportunity, he exiled Henry Bolingbroke for 10 years.

On 3 February 1399, John of Gaunt died. Richard refused to allow the title Duke of Lancaster to his cousin Henry; rather, he extended Henry's exile from 10 years to his lifetime. There came a time that Richard had to go to Ireland to deal with a rebellion, at which point Henry Bolingbroke returned to England. He brought with him Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury who had been exiled by Richard as well. With a small military force and Arundel as an advisor, Henry started gathering support and confiscating land from anyone who did not wish to join him. Originally he claimed that he only wanted to get back his rights as Duke of Lancaster, but as he gathered support, anti-Richard sentiment grew.

Ultimately Henry had enough support to declare Richard deposed. Richard was imprisoned. Richard had an heir, the seven-year-old Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March. He was bypassed and Bolingbroke was crowned Henry IV on 13 October 1399. Incidentally, it may have been the first time since 1066 that a king in England at his coronation addressed his subjects using English, not French.

Let's talk about the start of Henry IV's reign tomorrow, and what happened to Richard.

The Truce of Leulinghem

England and France were at war for a long time, and neither side was in great shape in the late 1380s. England had been unsuccessful in several military engagements and was in severe financial straits. Moreover, King Richard II and parliament were at odds over money and authority. In France, King Charles VI was showing signs of psychosis. (For much more on the Hundred Years War in this blog, click here.)

Neither side was able to achieve a definitive win that would establish rule over the other's country, no matter how hard they wanted one. They were each willing to try, however. Despite this, King Richard wanted to simply negotiate a truce, against the wishes of parliament and the Lords Appellant. Not thinking he would succeed, they allowed him to go to Calais and meet with Charles, which they did outside of Calais in the town of Leulinghem.

As it happens, representatives of the kings met and tentatively arranged a three-year truce, but when the two kings met they extended it to 27 years (although it only lasted 13). By claiming they were at peace, they stopped hostilities between Portugal and Castile in Iberia, who were supporting England and France respectively. England and France also agreed to a Crusade against Turks in the Balkans.

They also agreed to keep meeting to discuss further joint ventures, so when Richard's wife Anne died in 1396, negotiations began to wed Richard to Charles' daughter Isabella, uniting the two royal families. The fact that Isabella was born in 1389 and was therefore only seven years old did not bother anyone; such is the nature of royal marriages. The wedding took place on 31 October 1396:

A tearful Princess Isabelle, dressed in a blue velvet dress sewn with golden fleurs de lys and wearing a diadem of gold and pearls, was carried by the Dukes of Berry and Burgundy to Richard’s pavilion. She was taken away by a delegation of English ladies led by the Duchesses of Lancaster and Gloucester. Four days later, on 4 November 1396, she was brought to the church of St. Nicholas in Calais where Richard married her. She was five days short of her seventh birthday. Her dolls were included in her trousseau. [Sumption, Jonathan (2011). The Hundred Years War, Volume 3: Divided Houses. p.831]

The two countries also agreed on helping to end the Western Schism, but Richard backed out and France decided to seize Avignon to force an end. Richard used the lack of war with France to concentrate on dealing with his enemies at home, confiscating their properties to redistribute them to his favorites. This was simply more of the same egregious behavior that led to the Wonderful Parliament and the Merciless Parliament.

When Richard went to Ireland to deal with a rebellion by Irish chieftains, his enemies saw their chance to deal with him once and for all. By this time, his uncle John of Gaunt was dead and the title Duke of Lancaster had fallen to Gaunt's son, Henry Bolingbroke. Bolingbroke had been one of the Lords Appellant created by parliament to manage the king's excesses years earlier. Richard had managed to exile Bolingbroke, but his trip to Ireland gave Bolingbroke the opportunity to return.

After his return? History was made. I'll tell you about that next time.

Richard II and the Lords Appellant

Although the Wonderful Parliament in 1386 tried to curtail the excesses of King Richard II, it was the Merciless Parliament in 1388 that truly forced the king to accept that Magna Carta was no joke and the king did not have supreme authority in the kingdom and was answerable to the parliament. The parliament was requested by a small group called the Lords Appellant, and we should understand their role during this part of Richard's reign before we go on.

The Hundred Years War was still going on in 1386, and England had had two decades of losses. The Wonderful Parliament held Richard's favorites responsible for these military failures and for the egregious taxation used to fund the war. A group of trusted nobles was chosen to take over the management of the kingdom and the king, the Lords Appellant.

The Lords Appellant were:

• Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester; Richard's uncle, who forced him to attend the Wonderful Parliament
• Richard Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel
• Thomas Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick
• Henry Bolingbroke, Earl of Derby (another nephew of Woodstock, being John of Gaunt's son)
• Thomas de Mowbray, Earl of Nottingham

They began their task right after the Wonderful Parliament ended, and the following year (1387) felt it necessary to launch an armed rebellion against Richard because one of his favorites, Robert de Vere, had raised an army for the king. (The illustration shows the Lords Appellant throwing their gauntlets down in front of Richard, but I cannot find an anecdote that explains this Victorian picture.)

In February 1388, the Merciless Parliament met to deal with Richard's favorites, de Vere and Michael de la Pole, Nicholas Brembre (who had been mayor of London several times), Chief Justice Robert Tresilian, and Alexander Neville (Archbishop of York). They were all accused of vice and swaying the king wrongly and lining their own pockets. As a prelate, Neville was only exiled after losing his position and all his estates and possessions, but everyone else was executed.

The executions did not stop there: dozens of members of the royal administration were purged. Finally they came to Simon Burley, who had been the king's father's advisor and was one of the king's regents when he was young. Burley was defended by Edmund Langley, the Duke of York, who was also a son of Edward III and therefore also Richard's uncle. Langley's brother, Thomas of Woodstock, rose to condemn Burley. Richard, who was in attendance of course, spoke up for the first time, and argued with his uncle Woodstock. Woodstock finally told him that he needed to stop defending his friends if he wanted to keep his crown. That made Richard sit back down.

One of the complaints about Richard was that he was a failure at the war with France, and was trying to negotiate a peace. Parliament (and the Lords) preferred military successes over a truce. Although Richard became effectively a puppet under the Lords Appellant, he managed to get revenge on the Lords and Parliament by the Truce of Leulinghem, but that's a story for tomorrow.

Richard II and the Wonderful Parliament

From October to November 1386, the Wonderful Parliament took place in Westminster Abbey. Its initial purpose was to discuss King Richard II's request for money (his uncle, John of Gaunt, was pushing for war with France as part of the Hundred Years War). In fact, a French fleet had been massing across the Channel in Flanders all summer, and the rumor of invasion was credible. Money had been spent to have 10,000 soldiers surround London for protection, and more was requested to prepare for war with France. The king's request would have brought a sum of £155,000—this would have been the largest tax in England's history, and Parliament was alarmed.

Other issues arose as well. Richard's marriage to Anne of Bohemia was supposed to bring her father, Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV, onto the English side. There did not seem to be much support from Charles, however, and the man who negotiated the marriage, Michael de la Pole, had been made chancellor a few years before and more recently made Earl of Suffolk. Also, Robert de Vere, 9th Earl of Oxford, had just been made Duke of Ireland. Richard's elevation of his favorites to such positions was very concerning to Parliament, who considered these men and others close to Richard to be out for themselves and inappropriate royal advisors.

Richard was going to absent himself from Parliament—he did not like being told what he could and could not do—but his uncle Thomas of Woodstock, the Duke of Gloucester, threatened him with being deposed if he did not attend.

Parliament considered de la Pole a bad chancellor and wanted him impeached. Richard was forced to get rid of his chancellor and deal in the future only with advisors approved by Parliament. He left Westminster and spent a year traveling the country, ignoring the advice of Parliament's approved advisors and trying to gather support for himself.

As for the French fleet, England got lucky: a rebellion in Ghent took their attention, and there was no invasion of England that season. Also in 1386, Gaunt left England to attempt his dream of succeeding to the throne of Castile. Parliament had never trusted him, assuming that he wanted the English throne himself. Richard was upset with him as well: Gaunt was the chief military leader, and the promise of claiming France did not materialize fast enough. Gaunt's wealth had often supported Richard's desires, but with Gaunt in Spain fighting his own battles, Richard had lost a source of support and felt deserted.

The rest of Richard's reign was going to be one long argument with Parliament about the extent of his power and autonomy. The Wonderful Parliament was considered even more damaging to him that the Merciless Parliament in 1388. That is our next stop on this brief tour of the life of Richard II.

Richard II, the Boy King

When King Edward III died on 21 June 1377, ideally his eldest son would have succeeded him. Unfortunately, Edward (called "The Black Prince") had died almost exactly one year before. History might look back and say the succession should have passed to the next available son, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, and at the time probably the wealthiest man in England after the Crown. English royal succession didn't work that way, however, and the next in line was the son of young Edward.

That son, Richard of Bordeaux, was 10 years old. Parliament wanted to crown him as quickly as possible, fearing that Gaunt would try to usurp the throne. At his coronation on 16 July 1377, Archbishop of Canterbury Simon Sudbury put the crown on his head and the succession was set.

Normally, a king in his minority would have a regency council that included his uncles—who obviously knew a lot about the administration and defense of the realm—but Parliament feared Gaunt's influence, so others were chosen such as Sir Simon Burley and Robert de Vere, 9th Earl of Oxford.

From 1377 to 1381, little is heard from or about the new king. Regency councils are managing national affairs. It is with the Peasants Revolt of 1381 that Richard becomes more active in public, especially when at 14 he rides out to address the rebels personally.

In many ways he was an oddity. He had picked up some different mannerisms from his upbringing on the continent. One was the eyebrow-raising use of a piece of cloth made especially for dealing with sneezes and coughs. Another was that he did not know English. He was the last English king whose first language was French; Simon Burley was his tutor in the English language.

Months after the Revolt, he married Anne of Bohemia, daughter of Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV. This arrangement, negotiated by Michael de la Pole, was supposed to give England a powerful ally in its problems with France.

A few years later came a parliament called the Wonderful Parliament. Unfortunately for Richard, it wasn't wonderful for him. I'll explain that next time.

Katherine Swynford, Widow

After John of Gaunt died, in 1399, his third wife, Katherine Swynford, lost a lot of status. His health had been declining (he was approaching 60 years old), and in 1398 he had been expelled from England because he had displeased his nephew, King Richard II. On 3 February 1399, Gaunt made a detailed will, leaving all movable possessions (clothing, furniture, jewelry, etc.) to Katherine. He died the next day.

Immediately, the king's escheators (officers meant to keep track of where a decedent's inheritance goes) seized everything, including the Lancaster estates. She made a plea to the king in March, and got the estates returned, along with an annuity of £1000. Later, the king allowed her to keep the estates she had been given prior to marriage with Gaunt, but took the Lancastrian estates, since the king would have to find a new Duke of Lancaster. She gave the estates of Kettlethorpe and Colby (received from her first husband, Sir Hugh Swynford), to her only son from that marriage, Thomas as Swynford. She moved to a rented house in Lincoln, where she lived out the rest of her days.

All this took place in 1399. In the fall of that year, Gaunt's son Henry Bolingbroke (who had been exiled for life by Richard) returned to England, deposing Richard and crowning himself Henry IV. Katherine and Gaunt's children, the Beauforts, and Thomas Swynford supported Henry.

Although the new king referred to Katherine officially as "the Mother of the King," she did not return to court life, staying quietly in Lincoln and all but disappearing from history. In 1400 Henry gave her a new estate in Yorkshire, and £200 of the annual rents of Huntingdonshire, as well as an annuity of 700 marks (this was all in addition to the £1000 that had been assigned to her long ago by Gaunt). She had more than enough to live comfortably anywhere in the kingdom.

She died on 10 May 1403 and was buried in a tomb in Lincoln Cathedral (see the illustration). Made of fine marble and decorated with heraldic shields, with a carved likeness of her on top, it was topped with a brass canopy. The figure of her was partially damaged in 1644 during the English Civil War.

The king who exiled Gaunt and Bolingbroke, Richard II, has been mentioned many times, but not directly discussed. I'll tell you tomorrow about a king who was a boy who did not speak the language of the country he ruled.

Katherine Swynford, Royal Bride

The love affair between John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford could hardly be a secret, especially when she started bearing his children while he was married to his second wife, Constance of Castile. Even before that his gifts to her of estates and castles and money could hardly be explained simply because of the care she gave to the daughters from his first wife, Blanche of Lancaster.

Katherine's increased social and economic status began in autumn of 1372, so that is likely when the affair truly began (although there must have been some attraction prior).

Katherine and Gaunt had four children between 1373 and 1381. The English chronicler Thomas Walsingham wrote of an event in March 1378 when Gaunt and Katherine were seen in public together:

...casting aside every shame of man and the fear of God, allowed himself to be seen riding through the Duchy with his concubine, a certain Katherine Swynford. [Chronicon Angliæ]

Supposedly Gaunt's family also warned him about the affair's consequences. His legitimate children might well have been concerned about their step-siblings and whatever favors might have been shown to them instead of to the "originals." In 1381, after the Peasants Revolt, Gaunt accepted that his behavior was partially to blame for the public unrest, and broke with Katherine.

After the death of Constance in 1394, however, Gaunt decided to take Katherine as his third wife and Duchess of Lancaster; this would also legitimize his children by her. They were married in Lincoln Cathedral on 13 January 1396. Gaunt had oral permission from Pope Boniface IX, so he wrote to the pope on 1 September 1396, confessing his affair and that it began while he was married but Katherine was not, laying out the details of her importance to the royal family. Boniface wrote a papal bull, declaring the marriage valid. He also legitimized the Beauforts, their four children born before the marriage.

With the papal blessing, everything changed. While Gaunt lived, no one could accuse Katherine of inappropriate behavior. They were free to be a couple in public. The illustration is of a poetic reading at court at the time, and there is speculation that the audience is meant to represent real people and that Katherine is probably one of them. Gaunt only lived another five years, however. Life as Duchess of Lancaster started well, and worked out well for the Beauforts later, but things changed after Gaunt's death. I'll tell you how next time.

Katherine Swynford, Royal Mistress

Katherine Swynford (c.1350? - 10 May 1403) was the daughter of a knight from Hainaut. Her father, Paon de Roet (his and Katherine's arms are shown), followed Philippa of Hainaut when she came to England to marry King Edward III. Katherine was a lady-in-waiting to the queen.

Just as kings found advantageous marriages for their offspring, so did they help their favorites marry well. Katherine Roet was married to Hugh Swynford, a knight in the retinue of John of Gaunt. Accordingly, Katherine was transferred to the household of Gaunt's wife, Blanche. When Blanche died in 1368, Katherine became lady-in-waiting to her daughters, Philippa and Elizabeth. Katherine and Hugh had three or four children.

In the same year that Hugh Swynford died, 1371, John of Gaunt married Constance of Castile and returned to England from the continent. Katherine was now lady-in-waiting to Constance, the new Duchess of Lancaster and also styled Queen of Castile. Katherine now had a little more to her name: Hugh was not wealthy, but the king and Gaunt made sure his estates in Lincolnshire became Katherine's (Hugh's son and heir being a minor, the estates would have become property of his overlords, the king and Gaunt). Gaunt also increased her annuity from 20 to 50 marks, a very decent sum, to help the upkeep of the estates.

In 1373, Katherine had a child, John Beaufort (the surname came from one of Gaunt's estates in Hainaut). The father was John of Gaunt. They had three more children, all while Constance of Castile was still alive. Gaunt did not exactly keep the relationship quiet: he gave Katherine an annuity and several estates as a sign of his favor. 

Knowing that Katherine was the favorite of Gaunt (the most powerful man in England after the king), many would try to curry favor with her. The mayor of Leicester gave her a gift of 16 shillings' worth of wine, recorded as to "Lady Katherine Swynford, mistress of the Duke of Lancaster." That was in August 1375 and is the first public acknowledgement of the affair. The public in general, however, was appalled at the behavior, and the two were forced to break off the affair in 1381. Katherine left her position as lady-in-waiting to the woman whose husband she was sleeping with and settled in Lincoln, likely the Kettlethorpe estate from her deceased husband.

What did Constance think of this affair? Did she know? Gaunt was her best option for getting to the Castilian throne that had been usurped from her father, so she may have taken the bad with the potential good. Her Castilian ladies-in-waiting, however, likely noticed and complained: in 1373 they were all sent by Gaunt to Nuneaton Priory, a Benedictine monastery many days' journey from London. (They were allowed back a year later.)

Katherine was not completely personae non grata, however. King Richard II made her a Lady of the Garter in 1387. She also was brought back into royal service, so to speak, by joining the household of Mary de Bohun, Gaunt's daughter-in-law by virtue of marriage to his eldest son, Henry Bolingbroke (the future King Henry IV).

Constance of Castile, Duchess of Lancaster, died 24 March 1394 and was buried in Leicester. Gaunt and Katherine were now free to pursue an open relationship. They were still haunted by the scandal, and the shadow of adultery. 

How they handled it, and what happened after, will be tomorrow's topic.

John of Gaunt

John of Gaunt (6 March 1340 - 3 February 1399) was a highly influential man in adulthood. He was the third son of Edward III and Queen Philippa, born while the queen was in Ghent in Flanders (called "Gaunt" in English). (Actually, he was the 4th son, but an earlier son had died after a few weeks, years before John was born.)

In the 1350s, he was raised in the household of his older brother Edward of Woodstock (later known as the Black Prince). Accounting records showed that John had two "Saracen" companions named Sigo and Nakon.

He spent much of his youth in France and Spain where he took part heavily in the "family business," which was fighting France in the Hundred Years War. Edward tried (as kings do) to arrange advantageous matches for his children, and for John he arranged a marriage to Blanche of Lancaster in 1359. Blanche was not only a great beauty, but her father was the powerful first Duke of Lancaster, Henry of Grosmont. (Trivia: both John and Blanche had King Henry III as their great-great-grandfather, making them third cousins.)

John's father-in-law died in 1361, and a year later Edward made John the Duke of Lancaster and gave him half Henry of Grosmont's lands. He inherited even more land when his wife's sister, Maud the Countess of Leicester, died childless in 1362. At this point John owned land in almost every county in England and 30 castles. The rents from these properties flowing upward to John gave him an income of £8,000 - £10,000 annually (the buying power of about $200 million today), and allowed him to maintain a lifestyle comparable to a king's.

In 1370 he took a small army to Aquitaine to reinforce his older brother Edward, whose health was beginning to suffer. John was left in charge while Edward returned to England. In September 1371, John returned to England, but not before re-marrying. Blanche had died in 1368. This time, John married Constance of Castile, daughter of Peter the Cruel. Peter had been king of Castile, but was killed in 1369 by his half-brother Henry. John felt that Constance gave him a potential claim to the throne of Castile. He even introduced her to England as Queen of Castile and tried to style himself King of Spain, or at least "my lord of Spain," but no one was buying it. Ultimately, his and Constance's daughter Catherine married Henry II's son, Henry III of Castile, settling the matter of Castilian succession.

Now I'd like to jump to John's third wife, even though we haven't discussed the death of his second; yes, that's an important clue to what's to come. See you next time.

Who Were the Lollards

Was Lollardy popular? Besides for Sir John Oldcastle and John Wycliffe, I mean.

Because Lollards believed that baptism and confession were not necessary for salvation, many people were drawn to Lollardy: it was comforting to know that generations of good people who were never baptized would be welcome into Heaven.

Many priests appreciated Lollardy for its egalitarian and back-to-basics nature: praying to saints and saints' images was idolatry that should be shunned. A Bible in the vernacular was important so that everyone who wished (but did not know Latin) had access to it. All the "smells and bells" trappings of the Roman Catholic Church (bells, organs, holy water, incense, grand buildings), were not Bible-based and just being grandiose for the sake of it. Clerics should not be allowed to hold positions in government and have temporal power.

Lollards did not bother with fasting or abstinence, and they challenged clerical celibacy. They did not recognize any special authority of the pope, and especially of papal pardons. Personal piety was more important than what the Church said it could do for you. This made the individual feel more responsible for and in charge of his life.

This idea of the importance of the individual rather than the importance of the "higher powers" in society was very attractive to the common people, and spilled over to their notions of the need for social and economic reform. Heavy taxation and always being made to feel that you were less important than the nobility started to be questioned. Lollardy's tenets were intimately tied to movements such as the Peasants' Revolt of 1381.

Not just commoners were drawn to Lollardy. There was a group of Lollard Knights in the last quarter of the 1300s. Among them were Lewis Clifford, John Clanvowe, and Richard Stury. I mention those names particularly because they were all friends of Geoffrey Chaucer, himself someone who was willing to make fun of the clergy, write about the common man, and write in English (court literature prior was usually in French).

All these men had another person in common, one far more powerful than they. That was John of Gaunt, third son of King Edward III and uncle of King Richard II. Gaunt was at one time the most powerful and influential man in England, but all things come to an end. I'd love to tell you more tomorrow.

Lollardy

What was Lollardy, and why was it so dangerous or objectionable that Sir John Oldcastle needed to be executed for it in 1414? That Wycliffe had to be condemned for it, especially when he translated the Bible? Why was it part of the Peasants' Revolt of 1381? Why was it important to Thomas Arundel to stamp it out?

Lollardy was an attempt in the later 14th century to make radical reforms in Western Christianity and the Roman Catholic Church. It had a synonym in "Wycliffite," because Lollards were followers of the reform ideas of John Wycliffe. "Lollard" was a pejorative nickname whose origin is uncertain, but may come from Middle Dutch lollaerd, "mumbler." In fact, "lollaerd" was used in the Netherlands much earlier than Wycliffe's movement  for non-mainstream groups such as the Beghards/Beguines and Fraticelli.

So what are some of Wycliffe's points that caught on? One is the belief in consubstantiation. The Roman Catholic Church had been teaching transubstantiation: that the bread and wine were transformed into body and blood in a way that meant they were no longer bread and wine. Wycliffe said they remained bread and wine even though the presence of God was in them as well.

What else? How about that baptism and confession were not necessary for salvation? In the New Testament, in 1 Peter 2:9, it reads:

You are royal priests, a holy nation, God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light. 

Exodus 19:6 has "And ye shall be unto me a kingdom of priests, and an holy nation."

The Lollard idea was that everyone is part of a "universal priesthood" and therefore the Church does not have the ability to give a particular divine authority to a priest. With no special divine authority, there is no value in making a confession to a priest, and anyone can baptize.

Wycliffe also believed that everyone should have access to the Bible, and so he produced the first Bible translation into Middle English vernacular. (The illustration from the 19th century shows him giving his Bible translation to his followers.) I say "produced" because scholars now believe he guided others to write parts of it and did not write it all himself. Some think there were earlier English versions that he used/incorporated/was inspired by.

So how did Lollardy catch on? If it was so different from what the Church officially believed, was it going to receive a wide acceptance? Tomorrow we'll see who from the upper echelons of society might have adopted Lollard ideas.

The Oldcastle Revolt

When Sir John Oldcastle escaped from the Tower of London to avoid execution for the heresy of Lollardy, he fled to Cooling Castle and became the center of an attempt to revolt against King Henry V. Oldcastle sent messages to Lollard friends, many of whom were wealthy and could afford to outfit followers with weapons.

One group started rebelling prematurely on 26 December 1413 in North Lincolnshire, but ended it to head to London, where they were all supposed to meet on 9 January 1414. There were many priests among the Lollards who believed in the need for reform in the Church. They helped organize groups in Derbyshire, Essex, Leicestershire, Bristol—everywhere in England, in fact.

They were not numerous enough to make a difference, however. Two yeomen spied on the rebels and found Oldcastle's hidden location. Oldcastle, learning that he was found out, decided to move ahead and destroy churches, ultimately hoping to overthrow the king.

Henry gathered troops the evening of the 9th to confront the group that was assembling in London, and sent troops on the roads to stop any others from joining the rebels. Dozens of Lollards were taken into captivity after a (not surprisingly) brief battle of two very unmatched armies. On 10 January trials were held for the heretics/traitors.

Oldcastle had managed to evade capture for a few days, but was caught—badly wounded in the process—and brought to London on a horse litter. As a heretic he should have been burned at the stake. As a traitor who turned against his king, he merited hanging (and drawing and quartering). They decided to do both. The illustration in this and yesterday's posts show him burning in the gallows. If he were lucky, then the hanging killed him before he could suffer the agonizing torture of being cooked in the flames. (It is possible that Henry—mindful of their earlier friendship—arranged this so that he would die from hanging first, saving him some suffering.)

I mentioned in yesterday's post that Oldcastle was the subject of an anonymous Elizabethan play that was likely the source material for Shakespeare's treatment of Falstaff. I also said Oldcastle's family would become important later. In fact, when Shakespeare's Henry IV appeared on stage in 1597-98, the character we know as Sir John Falstaff was called "Sir John Oldcastle." In Henry IV, Part 1, Prince Hal calls Falstaff "my old lad of the castle." In an early text of Henry IV, Part 2 in 1600, one of Falstaff's lines is preceded by "Old." instead of "Fals." And the iambic pentameter is thrown off in some lines that include "Falstaff" that would scan properly if "Oldcastle" were substituted.

The truth is, in the Elizabethan Age Protestantism had changed England and the world, and executed Lollards were seen as holy martyrs. Moreover, the Cobhams were very powerful. Objections to their famous ancestor being portrayed in this light caused the change in the Henry plays.

So what ideas was Lollardy promoting that were so threatening to the established order? Let's go into that next.

Sir John Oldcastle

Thinking of King Henry V of England often brings to mind the play by Shakespeare and the characters within. Shakespeare probably learned about them from an anonymous Elizabethan play, The Famous Victories of Henry the fifth: Containing the Honourable Battel of Agin-court: As it was plaide by the Queenes Maiesties Players. The play describes Prince Henry as an irresponsible youth who later becomes king and takes a completely serious turn, turning his back on his earlier lifestyle and the friends he had then. Its first printing was 1594; Shakespeare's first of the Henry plays, Henry IV, Part 1, came out in 1597.

One of Henry's friends was Sir John Oldcastle, the model for the Shakespeare's character of Falstaff. His family was well-to-do (this becomes important tomorrow). He was involved in the Welsh campaigns against Owain Glendower, and was made a captain of some of the Welsh castles. It was probably around this time that he came to know young Henry. Sir John was in parliament in 1404 as a Knight of the Shire for Herefordshire. He was later High Sheriff of Herefordshire and justice of the peace. When he married Joan, heiress of Cobham (an important Kent family), his financial fortunes rose: he came to own several manors as well as Cooling Castle. From then on his title in Parliament was "Lord Cobham."

He had another trait, however, that did not aid him in advancement. He was a Lollard.

Lollards were "proto-Protestants," a movement that was sparked by the ideas of John Wycliffe who wanted reform in Western Christianity. Lollards were considered heretics and dealt with accordingly when confirmed in their ideas. When the churches on his (wife's) estates engaged in unlicensed preaching, Sir John was accused of Lollardy. Henry was informed of this, but refused to take action against his friend until firm proof could be found.

It was. Something he had written was discovered that confirmed his Lollard beliefs. Again, Henry would not condemn his friend until he had spoken to him personally. Oldcastle was willing to offer up to the king "all his fortune in this world," but would not change his beliefs. He fled from Windsor and the king's presence to Cooling Castle. At this point, Henry had to let the wheels of justice run their course. Oldcastle refused the summons by the archbishop to appear before court, but Oldcastle obeyed when Henry issued a Royal Writ. Oldcastle was sentenced to burning as a heretic.

Henry ordered a reprieve of 40 days in the Tower of London to allow Oldcastle to repent. In that time, he escaped the Tower. At that point, with nothing else to lose, he decided to strike back.

How? I'll tell you tomorrow, as well as why I wrote that parenthetical note in the first sentence of the second paragraph.

Henry's College Years

Henry V (16 September 1386 - 31 August 1422) was King of England from 1413 until his death.

For a time, in his youth, he was at Queens College in Oxford. There are no records saying he was enrolled (he would have been very young at the time, considering that he was away from Oxford by the time he was sixteen, fighting the Battle of Shrewsbury), but there is other evidence to examine.

For one, his uncle Henry Beaufort was chancellor there from 1397-99. A resident of Oxford named John Rouse affirms in a history that Henry studied there "under the guardianship of his uncle Henry Beaufort, then Chancellor of Oxford."

As king, Henry supported Queens College's rights in a dispute with Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Arundel. After this, Henry made sure that Queens would not be bothered by Canterbury, and instead put it under the protection of the Archbishop of York.

It is also recorded that he learned to appreciate literature and music while at Queens. Prior to Queens he had learned the harp, the recorder, and the flute. While campaigning in 1421 in France he even had a harp delivered to him. As king he granted pensions to musical composers. He is even known to have set to music two parts of the Mass, the Gloria and the Sanctus. Note the illustration and the words in red in the upper-left corner: "Roy Henry." The music is "highly skillful" and was possibly done with help from a professional composer. You can hear the selections at this link.

In a first for an English king, he learned to write in the Middle English vernacular.

Most people's knowledge of Henry is based on Shakespeare's plays. If they remember anything about the plays, it is probably the larger-than-life character of Falstaff. Falstaff was based on a real friend of Henry, Sir John Oldcastle. And yes, Henry had to change his attitude toward Oldcastle radically from when he was a prince. The colorful Sir John Oldcastle and his fate is a good tale for next time.

The Royal Physician

Where there are royals and people of means, they will endeavor to have the best health care. A physician who had a good track record was well worth his fees (and worth giving special dispensations to; consider the example in the 5th paragraph of this post).

Although I would never want to live in the time before modern medicine, I have to admit there were some clever men and women who certainly made a difference in people's lives. One such was John Bradmore, court surgeon to King Henry IV of England. He was from a family of surgeons: his brother Nicholas was a surgeon, and his daughter Agnes married a surgeon named John Longe.

A lot of surgeons in the Middle Ages had side hobbies as metalworkers, no doubt because it was convenient to be able to visualize and manufacture your own instruments. John was a metalworker (and also called a "gamester," suggesting he made jewelry, or used gems for their supposed curative properties (see the use of amethyst here). Facility with metals could arouse suspicion, however.

The Battle of Shrewsbury in 1403 between forces led by King Henry's son Henry (who would become Henry V) and Henry "Hotspur" Percy resulted in an arrow embedded in the prince's left cheek. Higher and it might have taken out an eye and gone into his brain. Lower and it might have hit his throat and he could have bled to death. He survived the blow, but the arrow was going to require careful handling.

Normal procedure for an arrow in the flesh was to push it through and treat the wound; this could not be done without driving it through Henry's skull. The surgeons on hand tried to pull it back out, but either the shaft broke or it came free from the point; either way, the arrowhead was still there at the bottom of a deep wound.

John Bradmore would have been the ideal choice for the procedure. There was one problem: Bradmore was in jail. He was suspected of counterfeiting coins, a serious offense against the Crown. This was no time for standing on principle, however. Bradmore was sent for with haste.

Bradmore wrote one of the first treatises on surgery, called Philomena, and in it he describes his steps to help young Henry. He used the pith from an elder branch wrapped in honey-soaked linen to probe the wound to assess its depth. He then used increasingly larger probes to expand the wound. He designed an instrument (the illustration is one re-creation of it based on his description) that he could insert, twisting a screw to open the tongs and grip the arrowhead. He was able to wiggle the arrowhead back and forth and exact it. He then filled the wound with white wine, laying over it a poultice of bread, flour, barley, and honey. He stayed with the prince, changing the dressing as needed, until Henry recovered.

Bradmore died nine years later, in 1412, but lived on a handsome pension from the King in that time. He deserved it; surviving a wound like that was nearly impossible: septicemia or tetanus would have killed anyone without the extreme care that Bradmore provided. Henry went on to become King Henry V, win the Battle of Agincourt, etc.

Before Henry went on to fight battles and get wounded, he had other pursuits. I want to talk about his youth a little more, and his time at college. See you tomorrow.

Henry V

Henry of Monmouth was so-called because he was born in a tower at Monmouth Castle in Wales, but the date of his birth was not recorded because he was never expected to be king. (It has since been decided to call it 16 September 1386.)

King of England at the time was Richard II. Henry's father was the king's cousin (Henry senior was the son of John of Gaunt, younger brother of Richard II's father, Edward the Black prince.) Henry senior took part in a revolt against Richard, which resulted in his exile in 1398.

At that point, Richard took the twelve-year-old Henry under his wing, taking him to Ireland. A year later, his grandfather John of Gaunt died and the Lancastrian rebellion overthrew Richard and put Henry's father on the throne as Henry IV. Young Henry was now the eldest son of the reigning king, and was named heir apparent, Prince of Wales, and Duke of Lancaster. He also became Duke of Cornwall, Earl of Chester and Duke of Aquitaine.

In 1400 he was named Sheriff of Cornwall and put in charge of part of the military (note that he is about fourteen years old). In 1403 he led an English army to fight Owain Glendower (previously mentioned here). At the battle of Shrewsbury in 1403 against Henry Percy (immortalized as "Hotspur" in Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part 1), an arrow was embedded in the left side of our Henry's face.

This would have been dire for any soldier, but the king's son was going to receive the best care. The royal physician treated it with honey as a natural antiseptic, and developed a tool to extract the embedded arrowhead before flushing the wound with alcohol. The patient survived with impressive scars that proved his battle experience (although you'll note the absence of scars in the portrait above).

That physician was John Bradmore, and is too interesting a character to not stop and talk about him next.