Henry the Second
HENRY THE SECOND, the first royal Plantagenet, ascended the throne of England with every prospect of a happy reign. He possessed the whole of Normandy, and so much of France as in reality to be more powerful than the king to whom he did homage for his numerous fiefs; if we set down his possessions in that kingdom at a full third part of the whole realm, we shall not exaggerate.
He was crowned at Westminster about six weeks after the death of Stephen, and immediately commenced a system of salutary reform, endeavouring to staunch the wounds of the nation, which might be said to be bleeding at every pore. He issued a new coinage of standard weight and purity, commanded the foreign mercenaries, under penalty of death, to quit the country they had so long desolated, and aided by a powerful army proceeded to demolish those strongholds of pillage and oppression, the baronial castles. This last was neither soon nor easily accomplished, and, what was scarcely less beneficial to the nation, the Scottish king, Malcolm, was compelled to exchange the three great northern counties, so long held by his grandfather, David, for the earldom of Huntingdon.
It was fortunate for England that if Henry was ambitious, he was also cautious to an excess, and this preponderance of the safer over the more dangerous quality seemed to hold out the prospect of lasting peace. For a time too, the people congratulated themselves on the wisdom of their monarch when they found Becket chosen by him for his chief councillor and adviser. To this choice lie is said to have been directed by Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, who loved Henry as his son, and who on retiring from the high office, which age and its natural infirmities forbade his holding any longer, was anxious to leave the youthful monarch in the hands of one, whose wisdom might guide his inexperience.
The first interruption to this state of cairn arose as usual from the king’s possessing continental territories. The French monarch, who dreaded the farther aggrandizement, of one already too powerful, was disposed to contest his succession to the earldom of Nantes, which had fallen to him as the heir of his deceased brother, Geoffrey. To prevent a rupture, if possible, Becket, the new chancellor, was despatched to France, and so well did he manage to conciliate the French king, that he consented to affiance his infant daughter, Margaret, to Henry’s eldest son. This amity, however, was not of long continuance. Henry claimed in right of his wife, Queen Eleanor, the duchy of Toulouse, while the French king supported the claims to the same possession of Raymond, Count of St. Gilles, who had married his sister, Constantia. Under the guidance of Becket, who at this time was more a soldier than a monk, the English arms triumphed, and Louis himself would have been captured in Toulouse, but that Henry in the spirit of excessive caution that too much swayed him, felt reluctant, as a vassal, to turn his arms against his feudal lord in person, and led his forces back into Normandy. This forbearance led again to a peace, which, however, did not outlast the month. The marriage of Louis with Adelais, the niece of Stephen the late king of England, and otherwise power fully allied, roused the jealous fears of Henry; war again broke out in consequence, but before much of the people’s blood could be shed in this unholy as well as unprofitable strife, peace was anew concluded through the mediation of Peter of Tarentaise, the envoy of Pope Alexander III. Here at least was a point of concord between the monarchs; both were friendly to the cause of Alexander, and opposed to his rival in the papacy, Victor IV. who, although he had formed only three votes in the conclave, was yet supported by the emperor Frederick of Germany against his more legitimate competitor.
The death of the primate, Theobald, in 1161, left the English king at liberty to adopt a measure, which embittered no small portion of his life, and even put his throne in considerable danger. He conferred on his chancellor, Becket, the vacant archbishopric of Canterbury, an union of offices, which, how ever repugnant to modern notions, was common enough in the early periods of English history when the clergy were almost the only educated class in the kingdom. Becket at first opposed a real or feigned dislike to this preferment; but the king had resolved upon it, and it is probable that his chancellor’s reluctance was of no very obstinate nature. Dissimulation, as we see from other parts of his conduct, was no new nor difficult matter to the military primate, who having flung down the sword to grasp a crozier, chose also to lay aside those habits of show and luxury, for which he had hitherto been so conspicuous, and rushed at once into the extremes of monkish mortification. It will scarcely seem strange that before a twelvemonth had elapsed the seeds of. dissension should show themselves between such a character and Henry. To understand this matter rightly, it will be necessary to travel back and take a survey of the spiritual and social state of the Christian community.
In early times the churchmen had sought to withdraw the people from the lay to the ecclesiastical tribunals. At first this was done under pretence of healing strife by the mediation of the holy character, and the consent of both parties was requisite before this mode of settling a dispute could be allowed. By degrees a second step was taken. Either party had the option, without consulting his opponent, bringing the disputed matter into the bishop’s court, either in the first instance, or during the course of law before a civil magistrate. Then came a yet farther encroachment, and while the laity were permitted, the clergy were compelled, to submit their quarrels to episcopal jurisdiction. Thus the latter obtained the valuable privilege of being exempted from the power of the civil magistrate; they could only be tried by themselves, and it soon appeared that the clergy were much more anxious to veil, than to punish, the offences of their own body. Among the Anglo-Saxons, the authority of the two judicatures was intermixed and not very clearly defined. The Normans separated them, and established Courts Christian, that is, courts of the bishops and his archdeacons, after the manner of the Western church in all other parts. It must, however, be allowed that the spiritual judges had some advantages over the secular. They had studied with diligence the Theodosian code, an entire copy of which had been found in 1137, when Amulphi was taken by the Pisans, and when to this was added the canon law, the compiled result of the ecclesiastical decisions through a long period, their jurisprudence acquired a clearness and precision which were wanting in the courts of the civil magistrate. But the latter did not submit in quiet to these encroachments, and they commenced their attack upon the most vulnerable part of the ecclesiastical judicature. By their own canons the clergy were excluded from the judgement of blood; fine, imprisonment, the scourge, or degradation, comprehended the list of their inflictions, and in those days the doctrine of extreme punishment was universal. It was held that lenity increased crime, and at all events it did not seem just that while a layman might be subject to death, a churchman, whatever might be his offences, could only be brought before a tribunal, from which that mode of punishing was banished. A dispute between Philip de Brois, a canon of Bedford, and the king’s justiciary, brought this matter to a head. The former had been tried and slightly punished by his bishop for an act of homicide, and some time afterwards the justiciary in the open court at Dunstable called him a murderer, in allusion to this case. High words ensued. The king ordered him to be tried for this second offence before the spiritual court, which sentenced him to public whipping, and suspension from his sacred office for two years. This however, did not satisfy the king, and summoning his bishops he demanded that when for the future an ecclesiastic should be degraded for any crime by his spiritual judges, he should be subject for the same offence to a lay tribunal. The bishops objected, and the icing then asked if they would submit to the ancient customs of the realm, which, being numerous and undefined, left every thing open to his own construction. The reply of Becket was equally astute; he would do so “saving his order.” The war had now fairly commenced between the church and the throne, for the clergy suspected, and probably with good reason, that under the phrase of customs was intended a general attack upon the clerical immunities, which indeed had grown to an intolerable height. But fear or a desire of royal favour won most of the leading churchmen to omit the saving clause. Becket alone stood firm. He was threatened with exile or death, and at a meeting held to reconcile these contending claims a scene occurred which places in a strong light the sanguinary and lawless spirit of the age. The door was thrown open of a room next to that in which the assembly was sitting, and discovered a body of knights with tucked-up garments and swords drawn, as if ready to commence the work of slaughter upon the unarmed ecclesiastics. Moved by the entreaties of those about him, the primate at length promised to obey the customs; but when afterwards called upon to affix his seal to the sixteen constitutions of Clarendon, he refused. It is now requisite to show briefly the nature of these constitutions:
I. The custody of all vacant ecclesiastical establishments should belong, and their revenues be paid, to the king. The new elections should be made, in consequence of the royal writ, by the clergy assembled in the king’s chapel by his assent, and by the advice of such prelates as he may think proper to consult.
II. All suits, civil or criminal, in which the clergy were concerned, should in the first be brought before the civil magistrate, who should decide whether the cause must be tried in the secular or episcopal courts. In the latter case a civil officer must be present to report proceedings, and if the defendant were convicted in a criminal action, he was to forfeit his benefit of clergy.
III. No tenant in chief of the king, and no officer of his household or demesne, should be excommunicated, or his lands put under an interdict, without the royal sanction, and the justiciary was to take care that the causes should be tried in the royal or ecclesiastical court, according as they might belong to either.
IV. No archbishop, bishop, or dignified clergyman, should go beyond the sea without the royal permission. This custom, which dated from the Conquest, had for its object the prevention of appeals to the pope.
V. Appeals should proceed regularly from the archdeacon to the bishop, from him to the primate; and, if the latter failed to do justice, the cause should be carried before the king, that by his precept the suit might be terminated in the archbishop’s court, so as not to proceed farther without the king’s consent.
Many other articles there were, though of less importance, which confined pleas of debts and disputes regarding advowsons to the civil jurisdiction, declared that priests holding lands of the crown should be deemed to hold them by barony, and to be bound to the same services as the lay barons, and forbade the admission to orders of the sons of villeins, without the licence of their respective lords.
Upon calm deliberation, Becket repented of the concessions he had made when under the influence of a near and visible peril. He wrote to the pope, confessing and soliciting absolution for his weakness, and, the indignation of Henry being fully raised, he bent every energy for the destruction of his former friend and chancellor. He prepared a succession of charges against him upon new grounds, since that of the customs had been found so little tenable, and, by the infliction of flue upon fine upon various pretences, well nigh swallowed up the episcopal revenues. Next he demanded a balance of four and forty thousand marks, due, as he said, from the sums received by the late chancellor on the king’s account. Becket then went to court, where arrayed in his pontifical robes, but deserted almost by all, he awaited the decision of the council. In the meanwhile lie had no difficulty in guessing the result from the language held to him by the bishops, and when at length the Earl of Leicester, at the head of the barons, came out to pronounce his sentence, he denied the authority of the court, referred his quarrel to the pope, and refusing to hear any more, went home amidst the acclamations of the clergy and people. It has been said by some historians, that henry meditated some actual and immediate violence, and Becket believing, or feigning to believe, the sinister reports brought to him by his friends, escaped that night from Northampton. and after fifteen days of difficulty and danger, landed at Gravelines, in Flanders. His first visit was to Louis, his next to Pope Alexander, then keeping his court at Sens. By both he was received with every demonstration of respect, and when he surrendered his bishopric into the hands of the latter, lie was re-invested with it in defiance of the advice of the cardinals, who thought this act afforded the best means of ending a doubtful and dangerous controversy.
While Henry was involved in this dispute with the church, he found himself again obliged to turn his attention to the Welsh. These barbarians, as fierce and restless as the Scotch, had renewed their incursions upon the peaceful borders, and when compelled by the victorious arms of the king to sue for peace, it was with no intention of maintaining it. His absence in Normandy afforded a fresh opportunity for war and rapine, and they were not slow to use it. Hastening back from the continent, Henry met and routed them in a pitched battle, when they fled as usual to their fastnesses. He followed them and held them as it were besieged, on Mount Beriom. But incessant rains deluged the valley, and, forced to retire in disgrace to Chester, he wreaked his vengeance on his Welsh hostages, the children of the noblest families in Wales. By his orders all the males had their eyes put out, while the ears and noses of the females were cut off without regard to their youth or sex.
In Bretagne he was more fortunate by his policy than be had been in Wales by his arms. Conan, Earl of Richmond, a weak and indolent prince, unable to govern his refractory barons, willingly resigned all his possessions to Constantia, when an imaginary marriage was contracted between her and the king’s third son, Geoffrey. Hence as the guardian of the minors, Henry assumed the reins of government, and soon contrived to subdue the turbulent barons, to the general peace and happiness of the people.
In the meantime Becket at Pontigny affected the life and manners of a hermit, and growing bolder from enthusiasm, or from feeling that he had thus acquired a firmer hold both upon the people and the supreme pontiff, he began to use the thunders of the church with very little respect of persons. He cut off from the society of the so called faithful all those who had framed the constitutions of Clarendon, and all who had invaded church property, and intimated to Henry, that a like fate awaited him in case he remained impenitent. To make these decisive measures agreeable to Alexander, he included in his bans those who should communicate with the anti-pope.
Coldly supported by his bishops, who probably liked well enough the cause of Becket, however much they disliked the man, Henry sought to be reconciled to the primate. But the meeting between them scarcely led to a hollow truce, and the king having yielded Anjou and Maine to his elder son, and Aquitaine to his youngest, now proceeded to the coronation of his son Henry. But the so long - threatened storm from Rome was about to burst upon his dominions, and again a meeting took place between the king and his too powerful subject. The necessity of the case led this time to a better show of peace, though it is probable with little sincerity on either side; and the primate after some delays returned to Canterbury. That the latter was little changed in his feelings may be estimated from the fact of his sending before him letters of suspension against the bishops who had been adverse to his cause, an act which has been attempted to be excused under the plea of momentary irritation. The bishops knew he carried such weapons about with him, and sent Ranulf de Broc with a party of soldiers to take him prisoner; he immediately made use of them, and one is tempted to ask these apologists for the primate, which is to blame? he who carries about him arms that can be of no use but to destroy, or they who knowing his enmity endeavour to force them from him? However this may be, the prelates hastened to the king then in Normandy, with loud exclamations against the ambition and vindictiveness of the archbishop. The king also had his moments of irritation, though it has met with few apologists. In an evil hour he exclaimed, “Of the cowards who eat my bread, is there not one who will free me from this turbulent priest ?“ Four knights, who happened to be present, Reginald Fitzurse, William Tracy, Hugh de Moreville, and Richard Brito, took this angry expression for a bloody warrant, and without delay set sail for Canterbury. About two in the afternoon, they appeared before the archbishop, and abruptly demanded that he should absolve the excommunicated prelates. He refused, and, upon his expressing surprise that they who had before sworn fealty to him should now threaten him, they replied, “We will do more than threaten.” Upon this they left the room.
The primate was evidently in danger, and at the importunity of his friends, he sought a temporary refuge in the cathedral, where the monks even then were chanting vespers. They would fain have fastened the church-doors when he had entered, but with the courage or obstinacy that formed so strong a feature in his character he commanded them to be thrown open. He had ascended the steps of the choir when the knights entered with twelve companions, all in complete armour. His attendants fled, with the exception of Grim, his cross-bearer, when a voice demanded, “Where is the traitor ?“ No answer was returned. “Where is the archbishop ?“ asked Fitzurse, for it was now almost dark, and he might have hidden himself, had he chosen, among the crypts, or under the roof. “Here I am,” replied Becket,” the archbishop, but no traitor.” They again commanded him to absolve the prelates. “Till they offer satisfaction I will not,” was the firm reply. “Then die !“ exclaimed the murderer, aiming a blow at his head, which was partly intercepted by Grim, but the force of the blow broke his arm, and even wounded the primate, who, as the blood trickled down his face exclaimed: “in the name of Christ and for the defence of his church, I am ready to die.” A second stroke threw him on his knees; a third laid him prostrate at the foot of St. Bennet’s altar, with the upper part of his scull dashed to pieces; and thus at the age of fifty-three perished this great but ambitious prelate, in the attempt to put the foot of a priest upon the neck of a monarch.
Henry was at Bure, in Normandy, when the bloody news was brought to him. The receipt of it filled him with much real or pretended sorrow, and after four days obstinately passed in solitude, and almost without nourishment, he dispatched five envoys to avert the papal indignation. With some difficulty they obtained an audience, and partly appeased the pope by protesting their master's innocence, and, what was of more importance, his perfect willingness to abide by the decision of the pontiff. Here upon he contented himself with excommunicating the assassins in general terms, and appointed his legates in France, the cardinals Theodin and Albert, to take cognizance of the cause. Four years elapsed before a final decision was given, and it is saying much for the prudence of Henry, or the venality of his judges, that though some minor points were insisted upon as the price of his absolution, the original cause of dispute between him and Becket still lay open for discussion. At length, in a great council at Northampton, they came to the following conclusions.
I. That no clergyman should be arraigned personally before a judge for any crime or misdemeanour, unless against the forest laws, or regarding a lay fee, for which he owed service to a lay lord.
II. That no bishopric or abbey, should be kept in the king’s hands beyond a year, unless required by the evident necessity of the case.
III. That those who murdered clerks, on their conviction or confession before the king’s justice, in the presence-of the bishop or his officer, should forfeit their inheritances for ever.
IV. That clergymen should never be compelled to make wager of battle.
Thus successful in all his undertakings, both abroad and at home, it might now have been supposed that the king would at length enjoy tranquillity. But he, who bad indulged his children to excess in their youth, now that they were grown up began to treat them with jealous tyranny. They all rebelled against him. His eldest son, Henry, supported by the French king, by Philip the Earl of Flanders, and by William of Scotland, determined to possess himself of England, and began the first attempts against his power with a war in Normandy. Although defeated in their opening campaign the allies were not intimidated. It was agreed that in the ensuing spring, Louis should fail upon Normandy, the friends of Geoffrey and Richard should wage the war in Bretagne and Aquitaine, awl that the Scottish king should enter England in the north, while the Earl of Flanders and the young Henry should invade the southern coast. Upon these tidings the unhappy father set sail for England in the midst of a storm, where, having arrived, his first care was to do penance at the shrine of Becket. While thus ignobly employed, news were brought to him that the Scotch king had been taken by Ranulf de Glanville, and iii three weeks afterwards, peace was so generally restored throughout the kingdom, that he returned to Normandy, where lie arrived just in time to save Rouen from the enemy. Thus again foiled by the genius of Henry, the confederates agreed to a short truce with a view to a general pacification. Richard, who alone stood out, was in a few weeks compelled to throw himself upon his father’s forgiveness, which was extended to all the parties concerned except the King of Scots. He was for a long time kept prisoner in the Castle of Falaise, nor was he released ‘till he had consented, with his clergy and nobles, to do homage to Henry, and to surrender five strong castles as security for his future conduct.
Henry was now allowed to enjoy a short repose, ‘till it was again disturbed by the feuds of his sons amongst themselves, and by their revolts against their father, But neither his mind nor his body were any longer equal to meet this unnatural warfare defeat now followed upon defeat, and a thunder-storm in the plain near Tours, where he was holding a conference with his enemies, awakened a degree of superstitious terror, which led to his complying with all their demands. He had stipulated that a list should be given him of all the barons, who had joined the French king. The first name which struck him, was his son John’s, that son for whom his misplaced affection had kindled the present war. He retired broken-hearted to Chinon. A raging fever seized him, when ‘his sick bed was attended only by Geoffrey, the chancellor, and a natural son, on whom he bestowed his blessing, while he frantically cursed the children by whom he had been abandoned. On the seventh day he expired, A.D. 1189, leaving to after-times a character, which it is hard to reconcile with his brilliant successes and the many substantial benefits he conferred on his people.