Richard the First
RICHARD, among all the English monarchs, has been more than any other, the subject of popular ballad and romance. He had all the useless qualities of a legendary hero, being brave to rashness, of strength surpassing that of common men, and as profuse in giving as he was rapacious in exacting.
The opening of his reign was welcomed by the nation at large, and certainly it held out fair prospects, though it was far from realising them in the end. Like Henry V., at a later period, he dismissed his own councillors, who as they had prompted his rebellion against his father, were probably not the most to be relied upon, and took for his advisers the very men who had been faithful in their loyalty against him. Yet at the same time he did not neglect to free his mother, Queen Eleanor, from the confinement in which she had been held by the late monarch. In consequence of the general feeling thus excited in his favour, and by the stability the throne had now acquired, he was crowned without opposition, a rather remarkable event in those days of violence and bloodshed.
Richard had taken the cross in the lifetime of his father, and no considerations for the welfare of his people could subdue his love of adventure. On his accession to the throne, the state of the Holy Land, so far as regarded the Christians’ hope of ever possessing it, was such as to have daunted a feeble spirit, and to have made a wise one hesitate. Saladin, the victorious Soldan of Aleppo and Egypt, had subdued the whole of the country except Tyre, which still remained in the hands of the Christians, and his skill and prudence being fully equal to his valour, there seemed to be every reason for expecting that city also would fall into his hands. This, however, had no other effect upon Richard than to stimulate his passion for the Crusade, and with an impetuosity quite in character with the general rashness of the undertaking, be allotted four months only for his residence in England, during which his whole time was occupied, not in attending to the welfare of the nation, but in making preparations for the Crusades. With this view he exposed to sale the demesne lands, the honours arid offices of the crown, sold to the Bishop of Durham the Earldom of Northumberland, and for ten thousand pounds basely surrendered his own and the nation’s honour, by selling to the Scottish king the castles of Berwick and Roxburgh, with all those rights of superiority over the crown of Scotland, which had been acquired by the courage, prudence, and good fortune of his late father. But the sums thus acquired, even with the addition of a hundred thousand marks that he found deposited in the exchequer were insufficient for the projected undertaking, and the Jews also were put under contribution, though upon the whole he seemed inclined to show this persecuted race more lenity and kindness than they usually met with. Their situation at this period was one of singular hardship, no country of Europe affording them anything like efficient and well regulated protection. They were, as elsewhere, the principal bankers, and by their usury and extortion had rendered themselves so hateful to the people, independent of the religious prejudices, which in those days ran high against them, that they were glad to buy the favour of the king by a liberality that must have been exceedingly bitter to their feelings. They hastened therefore to London from all parts with valuable presents, but Richard, either from prejudice or from prudence, forbade their appearing at his coronation. Some of them, however, had the rashness to make their way into the palace, whence upon being discovered they were expelled, and hunted with clubs and stones, and a report arising from this that the king had given a license to destroy them, the mob collected, murdering every Jew they met in the streets and setting fire to their houses. The authorities sent by Richard to check these atrocious scenes were quickly put to rout, and the scene of fire and bloodshed lasted ‘till morning, when the king interfering more vigorously, three of the ringleaders were hung under the pretext that they had burnt the houses of Christians, for even then he did not dare, or did not choose, to irritate the people by a more open protection of a race they so detested. Encouraged by such impunity to violence, the crusaders in their way to the coast imitated the example of the capital; while at York, a regular conspiracy seems to have been organised against the Jews, who had long made that city their head quarters. A body of men entered the walls before sun-set, and immediately began the work of pillage and destruction, burning houses and massacreing the Hebrew inhabitants. The greater part of them, however, took alarm in time, and fled into the castle with their families and treasures, where they might have been safe, but for a singular mistake, if we have the truth of the story, which may be doubted. As we have the tale, the governor of the castle, going abroad one morning, was on his return refused admittance by the Jews, who had taken refuge, and who amounted to five hundred, independent of their families. In consequence he beseiged the castle by the help of the sheriff and the people, and the ransom which the Jews offered after a day and night’s siege being refused, the latter adopted what romancers would call a Roman resolution; every thing that could be burnt they threw into the flames, buried their gold and silver that they might not enrich their foes, slew their wives and children, and then mutually turned their reeking knives against each other, a few only excepted, who with less courage survived to tell the tale, but who did not by a prompt yielding, or the offer of receiving baptism escape the death they so much dreaded. In spite of the promises made to them, these unhappy survivors were butchered in cold blood, and most probably that they might not appear against their debtors. There seems every reason for supposing so when we find the conquerors marching to the cathedral, where the Jews had deposited their bonds for safety, extorting them from the holders, and burning them at a bonfire, which they made in the middle of the nave. It does not appear that the offenders met with any adequate punishment, which may in part be accounted for by the absence of the king in France, where he was busy preparing for the Crusade, the grand object of all his thoughts.
It was agreed between Richard and the French king, Philip, that they should take, different routes, and meet again at Messina, in Sicily, which was then governed by Tancred, who had seized the crown upon the death of William the late sovereign. And here already occurred a stumbling-block, which might have proved fatal to the whole expedition. Tancred had hitherto refused to pay the legacies left by the deceased king to Richard’s father, Henry, and had detained the dowry of Joan, who was the relict of William, and the King of England’s sister. These Richard now demanded, and receiving a prompt denial, he had recourse to stronger measures, which were probably more agreeable to his own daring nature, as they were more likely to succeed with a crafty and unscrupulous adversary. He took possession of a strong castle on the Calabrian coast, in which he placed his sister Joan, seized upon a neighbouring island, expelling the monks its proprietors, and turned it into a depot for his provisions. The example of their sovereign was not lost upon the English, and daily affrays took place in consequence between them, and the people of Messina, till at length the king of France interfered as mediator, though with as strong a bias in favour of the Sicilian as against Richard, whom he was known both to hate and envy. A conference took place, in the midst of which came tidings that the two parties in Messina had come to action, when Richard, mounting his horse, hastened to join the fray, while Philip retired to the palace and gave secret encouragement to the citizens. But the city was soon carried by the English, and delivered by the king to their fury, so that Tancred found himself obliged to comply with the demands of so rough a litigant.
For a time the two monarchs contrived to keep up an out ward show of amity, though their real feelings towards each other could scarce be doubted in spite of Richard’s profuse liberality both to Philip and his adherents. But now a fresh cause of dissension broke out between them. The English king had long been espoused to Philip’s sister, Adelais, yet unmindful of this obligation he offered his hand to Berengaria, the daughter of Sancho, Queen of Navarre. Philip naturally enough opposed this breach of contract, while Richard protested with equal right, if his accusation were true, that he would never marry one who had been the mistress of his father. The dispute was settled, and Richard released from his contract, by his agreeing to pay ten thousand marks by instalments in five years, and by a promise that on his return from Palestine, he would restore Adelais the strong places he had received as her marriage portion.
Nine months had now elapsed since Richard first set out upon the Crusade, and yet though within a few days’ sail of the Holy Land, he had as yet done nothing towards the object for which he had abandoned his kingdom, after having so cruelly wrung his subjects by taxes and impositions for its accomplishment.
At length, with a fleet of fifty-three galleys and one hundred and fifty other ships, he set sail from Sicily. A part of this armament was dispersed by a tempest, and he himself on reaching Rhodes, was detained there awhile by sickness, recovering from which he proceeded to Lymesol, where he found before the port the vessel which contained Berengaria and his sister. They had remained there distrusting the invitation of Isaac, Emperor of Cyprus; and Richard, whose fate it was to fight in every land he touched, and with every body he approached, having in vain demanded satisfaction for the treatment of the crusaders, who had been wrecked upon Isaac’s coast, had recourse to his usual mode of argument with the sword. A complete defeat speedily convinced the Emperor of Cyprus that he had been in the wrong, he consented to conditions more than sufficiently severe; but repenting of these, he again took the field against his opponent, and, being beaten a second time even more thoroughly than before, he threw himself at the feet of Richard, who ordered him to be bound in silver chains and confined in a castle on the coast of Palestine.
At Lymesol the king married Berengaria, and here too he received a visit from Guy, of Lusignan, who pretended to the crown of Jerusalem, in right of his wife, Sybilla, while Conrad, the Marquess of Montferrat, preferred similar claims in the name of her sister Milisent, contending that the claims of Guy had perished with his wife. Conrad was supported by Philip in his pretensions, a very sufficient reason, had there been no other, for the King of England’s maintaining the cause of Lusignan.’
While Richard was in pursuit of the emperor, messengers came to him from Acre, complaining that its siege had lasted well nigh two years, while he was only attending to his own interests and thus doing essential injury to the general cause of the Crusade. To such reproaches Richard replied, by a torrent of abuse that confounded the bearers of them, nor was it till he had fully gratified his passions either of ambition or revenge upon his private enemies that he turned his attention to the, grand object of his voyage, and set sail from Famagusta. On the way he fell in with a strange ship of enormous bulk, and not being satisfied with the replies given to his salutation, he ordered the whole fleet to the attack. But safe in her superior bulk, this stately foe set the lighter Christian galleys at defiance, and kept on her way repulsing every attempt to stay her progress. At length some English seamen, more daring than their companions, swam to the vessel and managed to fasten her helm to the nearest gallies, when she was instantly boarded by the Christians; but the Turkish crew proved equally numerous and valiant, and though at the onset forced from the forecastle to the stern, they quickly rallied, and drove back their opponents to their own ships. Enraged at this obstinate defence, the king determined to destroy what to all appearance he could not conquer. Forming his largest gallies in a line, they were propelled against the Turkish vessel with such force, that their beaks crushed her sides, whereupon she filled and went to the bottom. This was an untoward event for the garrison in Acre, but most fortunate for the besiegers, as she was laden with provisions and military stores of all kinds, and more particularly Greek fire and venomous serpents, for the use of the former. Of the crew, which had consisted of fifteen hundred picked men, thirty-five only escaped, the deep sea or the edge of the sword destroying all the rest.
At length Richard arrived at the Christian camp, where he was received with acclamations, and immediately set to work with the usual energy of his character. In this case it well nigh proved fatal to him, for this over-exertion, combining with a climate to which he was unused, threw him into an intermittent fever. Still his impatience would not allow him to relax in his efforts, in the intervals of his malady, he caused himself to be carried in a silk pallet to the trenches whence he might superintend the conduct of the siege, which upon his recovery of course went on with redoubled vigour. Against such an enemy all the obstinate courage of the garrison proved useless, and though Saladin hovered with a mighty host in the neighbourhood, the city after a short time was surrendered upon condition, and the Christian flag floated on the walls of Acre.
It was in the height of the general triumph for this success, that Philip announced his intention of retiring with his whole force from the war against the Saracens. He was persuaded however, to leave ten thousand of his followers under the command of the Duke of Burgundy, and then departed amidst the hisses and execration of the spectators.
The time had now arrived for fulfilling the conditions imposed on Saladin by the treaty of Acre, but he still held back, and in revenge Richard put to death his hostages, and prisoners, in sight of the Saracen camp; and the Duke of Burgundy, who had been left in command of the French, not to be behind hand in religious zeal, slaughtered at least as many on the walls of Acre. This act of deliberate cruelty was rendered yet more atrocious by the insults the soldiers were allowed to inflict upon the dead bodies.
Having thus shown his notions of the holy cause in which he had embarked, the English king broke up from Acre, and set out for Jaffa with his army in five divisions, his march being harassed, though it could not be stopped, by the incessant attacks of Saladin. With every morning be fell upon them in front, flank and rear, at the same time, never ceasing the combat ‘till sunset, and encamping at night near enough to resume the same bloody game at break of day. At length he had got together reinforcements from all parts of his empire, and determined on a final attack that he expected would overwhelm his enemies. A little after sunrise the kettle-drum gave the signal for attack, and at this signal the Saracen host fell with all its weight upon the small band of Christians. Nothing but the active courage of Richard kept his army together, ‘till seizing a favourable moment he resumed the offence; the combat now raged at the utmost; but the Saracens were unable to resist the chivalry of Europe; they broke, and fled for refuge to their mountains, leaving behind them seven thousand of their companions slain, and twenty-two emirs.
The way being thus open to him, Richard proceeded to Jaffa, rebuilt its walls, and put the neighbouring castles into a state of defence. It was little interrupted by Saladin, who being taught by past experience, desisted from any set attacks, and had recourse to surer means of checking their progress. He dismantled the places, and laid waste the country before them, ‘till even Richard began to doubt the success of his enterprise. He concealed, however, these sentiments from all around him, while he wrote to Europe for fresh supplies of men and money, and even got so near to Jerusalem as Bethania. But here his further advance was stopped by the setting in of the stormy season, the encreasing dearth of provisions, and the sickness, which these causes, combined with other hardships, spread throughout his camp. He returned to the coast.
It is probable that the untiring energy of Richard might have overcome the obstacles just related, but for the want of union among the crusaders. Their army was composed of jarring elements that were only feebly held together by a common feeling of hatred towards the Saracens, and the command of Richard except over his own subjects, was little more than nominal. One great cause of dissension was the rival claims of Conrad, and Guy, of Lusignan, to put an end to which he at length consented to abandon the latter. Unluckily Conrad was soon afterwards murdered in the streets of Tyre, and the suspicion of Richard’s enemies fixed tire crime upon him in spite of his solemn disavowal. A marriage between his nephew, Henry, and the widow of Conrad staunched this new ground of feud, while, to indemnify Lusignan for the imaginary crown of Jerusalem he bestowed upon him the isle of Cyprus. Thus to all appearance reconciled among themselves, the crusaders again advanced upon Bethania, when the king of England declaring his intention of staying abroad yet another twelvemonth, selected twenty councillors, who were to decide upon oath which of the two was most advantageous—to besiege Jerusalem, or attack Cairo, the capital of Egypt, from which country the soldan drew his chief supplies. They decided for the latter, and the Christians, to the surprise of all, and the indignation of many among them, marched back to Acre.
No sooner had this retreat been effected, than Saladin took advantage of it, and descending from Jerusalem burst into the town of Jaffa, whence he drove the inhabitants of the citadel. The intelligence of this event was not long in reaching Richard, and again caused a change of his intended measures. Ordering the rest of the army to march by land, with seven galleys only he hastened by sea to the relief of the besieged, but on reaching the place of landing, he found the beach lined with immense numbers of the ever-vigilant Saracens, who had somehow got notice of his intentions, and were fully prepared to meet him. His friends advised him to wait for the arrival of the army, but just then a priest swam to the royal galley, and brought news that though many of the inhabitants had been slain, others were still defending themselves from one of the towers. Upon this the king plunged into the sea, exclaiming, “cursed be tire man, who refuses to follow me,” and his example was followed by the rest unhesitatingly. So at least say the old chroniclers, and modern historians have repeated the tale without the expression of a doubt, though it is difficult to understand how men encumbered with heavy armour could contrive to sustain themselves upon the sea, as they must have done, since the priest had reached the royal galley by swimming. Still, in whatever way the landing was effected, the result of this bold enterprise was to clear the city of the assailants, who were as much defeated by their own awe as by the very limited power of their enemy. Not satisfied with thus braving a power that seemed capable of crushing him, Richard encamped before one of the city-gates, with an army of two thousand foot-soldiers, and fifty-five knights, ten only of the latter being mounted, a challenge which the Saracens accepted the next morning by rushing upon him with all their force. Here again the valour and the good fortune of the Christians triumphed, but the exertions of Richard during the battle brought on an attack of fever, and he was fain to solicit a truce through the mediation of Saphaedin, the brother of the soldan, which was granted for three years, with permission for pilgrims during that time to visit the holy sepulchre unmolested. On the other hand Ascalon was to be destroyed; and thus terminated the Crusade, as all invasions of one land by the people of another should terminate—in defeat.
During this time, England had been bitterly rueing the folly of her monarch, who had not only exhausted her of men and treasures, but had abandoned her to the rapacity of his minister and the ambition of his brother, who hoped that Richard, like so many other crusaders might leave his bones in the holy land, in which case it was his full intention to seize upon the vacant throne. The king had endeavoured to defeat these designs by negotiating a treaty with the Scottish monarch in favour of his nephew Arthur, the son of his elder brother Geoffrey, whom he had privately selected for his heir, in the event of his death, and John gaining information of a devise so unfavourable to his projects, determined if possible to remove out of his way the chancellor Longchamp. Under pretence of redressing the wrongs of those oppressed by Longchamp, the prince in the usual manner of those days, when a baron was strong enough to contend with the king or his delegate, levied war against him, and gaining the upper hand compelled him to submit a treaty, by which several of the royal castles were given up to the safe-keeping of his own adherents, to retain them, as it was said, in behalf of the absent Richard, and in the event of his death to deliver them to John.
Scarcely was this point of dispute settled, than chance gave rise to another. Richard had compelled his natural brother, Geoffrey, who had been elected to the arch-bishoprick of York, to reside on the continent, and had forbidden his consecration. He now, however, obtained a papal mandate, in virtue of which he was consecrated by tire Archbishop of Tours, and straight returned England, to take possession of his see. Longchamp ordered him to take the oath of allegiance or quit the country, and upon his refusing to comply, a quarrel ensued between them, of which John hastened to take advantage, by embracing the cause of Geoffrey, with whom ‘till then he had been at variance. At first the chancellor, who had collected an army, was at first inclined to dispute the matter with his opponents; but either he distrusted his strength or the fidelity of his followers, for he soon abandoned this design, and fled to the Tower for refuge, whither he was pursued by his opponents. The citizens how ever opened their gates to the prince’s party, and Longchamp in despair, agreed to surrender up his power, and gave security for his not leaving the kingdom ‘till he had fulfilled all the articles of the treaty. On these terms he was allowed to retire to Dover Castle, whence after a vain attempt at escape he was finally allowed to cross the sea, and tire Archbishop of Rouen was appointed to his vacant offices.
It was now that intelligence reached England of Richard’s having been seized on his passage home, and flung into chains by tire cowardly Duke of Austria, who had actually sold his royal captive to Henry V, the German emperor. The people at large and the clergy are said to have been deeply grieved at this event, so much are mankind prone to admire the empty glitter of what are called deeds of arms beyond tire solid benefits of learning and science. John however found in this news the prospect of speedy advantage to himself, and hastened to turn it to account. He endeavoured to make a friend of the French king by surrendering some portions of Normandy, and the whole country would have been lost to England, but for the gallantry of the Earl of Essex, who had lately returned from Palestine, and now defended Rouen for his sovereign against all attacks.
Romancers have invested the escape of Richard from prison with many pleasing traits of love and fidelity; history only tells how the imperial speculator, after bargaining for five months, at length consented to ‘sell liberty to his captive for a hundred thousand marks, that being the highest sum he could extort, and Richard, who had now been absent more than four years landed at Sandwich amidst the acclamations of his subjects. Their fidelity met with an ill return; instead of attempting to repair the evils inflicted by his absence, the two short months that he remained in England were employed in extorting money from those whom his ransom had already impoverished, and that for no better cause than to enable him to wreak his vengeance upon the French monarch. When all the money had been collected that fraud or power could obtain, he joined his army at Portsmouth, and sailed for Normandy, where he was met by his fugitive brother John, in the guise of a penitent offender. At tire intercession of the queen mother he granted him his pardon, but refused to restore the lands or castles, which, it must be owned, he had abused to all the worst purposes of treason.
The exhausted resources of the two monarchs compelled them to carry on their war upon a petty scale, very much disproportioned to the vehemence of their passions, and for once poverty may be said to have been a blessing. Its results however were favourable to Richard; in a sharp engagement on the road to Gisors, he utterly defeated and well nigh made a prisoner of the French king, and in a subsequent skirmish actually captured the Bishop of Beauvais, who unable to soften his resentment implored the assistance of Pope Celestine. To that Pontiff’s mediation, Richard replied by sending the bishop’s coat of mail, with a scroll, on which was written, “Look, if this be the coat of thy son or not.” “No,” replied the Pope, with a smile; “it is the coat of a son of Mars; let Mars deliver him.” Ten thousand marks were then offered by the bishop for his ransom, but in vain; he did not recover his liberty ‘till the death of Richard.
During this time England enjoyed a brief respite from the horrors of war upon her own soil, but suffered from an evil that was only second to it. The exactions of the king went beyond all bounds, and were such as to spread poverty from one end of the kingdom to the other. He resumed the lands and offices of the crown, which he had sold before he went to Palestine; he raised to five shillings the former tax of two upon every caracute of land, the caracute being fixed at one hundred acres, while, to ensure payment, the lord was to distrain upon his tenant; and if any deficiency then remained, the sheriff was to make it good by a distress on the demesne lands of the lord; he revived tournaments, which had been introduced in the reign of Stephen, and forbidden by the wiser policy of his successors, but made a royal license the indispensable qualification for admission, fixing its price at twenty marks for an earl, ten for a baron, four for a knight with land, and two for a knight without land; he broke the great seal, and ordered that no grants that were not resealed under the new one should be held valid, which of course necessitated the payment a second time of the fees that had been discharged already; he ordered that he should be considered as succeeding in the place of the Jews killed in the first year of his reign, and demanded fines of their murderers, as well as payment of their debtors; he commanded that his judges should annul all grants made by prince John, receive the moneys due to him, enquire into the state of all wardships and escheats, the real value of lands, and the stock on every farm, that they should impose talliages on the cities, burghs, and ancient crown-demesnes, and finally should require payment from all who had promised to contribute towards his ransom. In the broad light of history the king looks very different from the lion-hearted and generous Richard of minstrels and romancers.
Exactions of this kind could not fail of exciting a very general discontent, and a demagogue, by name William Fitz-Osbert, attempted to take advantage of it. Whilst professing himself the advocate of’ the people, he yet allowed tire justice of tire war, but contended that the rich and powerful had shifted the burthen from their own shoulders to those of the middling and lower classes. So little indeed did his scheme imply any attack upon the regal authority that he crossed the sea to lay his doctrines before tire king, and being favourably received, he returned in haste that he might carry them into effect. For awhile there seemed every promise of iris ultimate success, ‘till the archbishop ranged himself on tire side of wealth and power, and, the adherents of Fitz-Osbert falling from him, he was stabbed in tire attempt to escape from the church into which he had fled for refuge. Even then his opponents could not let him die in quiet; he was dragged at the horse’s tail to the Elms at Tyburn, and there hung with nine of his followers.
The reign and the life of Richard were now drawing to a close. A treasure had been discovered on the estate of Vidomar, Viscount of Limoges, from whom it was demanded by the king, in virtue of his regal rights. Vidomar offered to surrender half; it was refused, and Richard besieged iris castle of Chalons. While riding round tire walls he was wounded by an arrow in the left shoulder, whereupon the signal of assault was given, and the castle taken by storm. With that strange mixture of fierceness and generosity, that marked his character, unregulated by reason, he caused all tire other captives to be hung as robbers of’ iris royal treasures, but spared Gourdon, the archer, who Had inflicted the wound, though already, under the hands of an ignorant surgeon it showed the undeniable sign of mortification. Death speedily ensued, when Gourdon instead of receiving the hundred shillings which had been given him by the king, was flayed alive by Marcadée, in revenge for his unlucky skill.
Of Richard’s character, little favourable can be said. He possessed brute courage in the highest degree, and had strength that made his courage more than ordinarily formidable. A century after his death, tire Saracen warrior would use his name to chide an unruly horse, and the Saracen mother would employ it to terrify her children. But the only real good he did to England, must be sought in two legislative charters, by one of which he established an uniformity of weights and measures throughout the realm, while by the other he mitigated the severe iniquity of the law in regard to wrecks. At one time, by the loss of his vessel the owner lost all interest in his property, which then became vested in the crown; and it is curious to see by what slow degrees the bulk of mankind have at any time been able to recover the rights which they once suffered to be wrested from them; by a concession of Henry the First, the wreck was not legally to be considered as such, if any man escaped with life; by Henry the Second, it was enacted that even if a beast survived, the owner should be allowed three months to claim his property, under an implied notion that the animal might be instrumental in his discovery. Richard went yet farther; by a law, which must then have appeared highly generous, though it now seems no more than a tardy act of justice, he established that if the owner were lost, his sons and daughters, or in default of them his brothers and sisters should have a claim to the property before the crown.
Richard died A .D. 1199, in the 10th year of his reign.