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Stephen's reign was one of the darkest chapters in English history. He was basically a good man - well respected by the barons and closely tied to the church - but possessed a conciliatory character and limited scope of kingship. Stephen had promised to recognize his cousin Matilda as lawful heir, but like many of the English/Norman nobles, was unwilling to yield the crown to a woman. He received recognition as king by the papacy through the machinations of his brother Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winchester, and gathered support from the barons. Matilda was in Anjou at the time of Henry's death and Stephen, in a rare exhibition of resolve, crossed the Channel and was crowned king by the citizens of London on December 22, 1135.
Stephen's first few years as king were relatively calm but his character flaws were quickly revealed. Soon after his coronation, two barons each seized a royal castle in different parts of the country; unlike his hot-tempered and vengeful Norman predecessors, Stephen failed to act against the errant barons. Thus began the slow erosion of Stephen's authority as increasing numbers of barons did little more than honor their basic feudal obligations to the king. Stephen failed to keep law and order as headstrong barons increasingly seized property illegally. He granted huge tracts of land to the Scottish king to end Scottish and Welsh attacks on the frontiers. He succumbed to an unfavorable treaty with Geoffrey of Anjou to end hostilities in Normandy. Stephen's relationship with the Church also deteriorated: he allowed the Church much judicial latitude (at the cost of royal authority) but alienated the Church by his persecution of Roger, Bishop of Salisbury in 1139. Stephen's jealous tirade against Roger and his fellow officials seriously disrupted the administration of the realm.
Matilda, biding her time on the continent, decided the time was right to assert her hereditary rights. Accompanied by her second husband Geoffrey of Anjou and her half-brother Robert, Earl of Gloucester, Matilda invaded England in the fall of 1139. The trio dominated western England and joined a rebellion against Stephen in 1141. Robert captured Stephen in battle at Lincoln; Stephen's government collapsed and Matilda was recognized as Queen. The contentious and arrogant Matilda quickly angered the citizens of London and was expelled from the city. Stephen's forces rallied, captured Robert, and exchanged the Earl for the King. Matilda had been defeated but the succession remained in dispute: Stephen wanted his son Eustace to be named heir, and Matilda wanted her son Henry fitzEmpress to succeed to the crown. Civil war continued until Matilda departed for France in1148. The succession dispute remained an issue, as the virtually independent barons were reluctant to choose sides from fear of losing personal power. The problem of succession was resolved in 1153 when Eustace died and Henry came to England to battle for both his own rights and those of his mother. The two sides finally reached a compromise with the Treaty of Wallingford - Stephen would rule unopposed until his death but the throne would pass to Henry of Anjou.
Stephen died less than a year later in 1154. 1066 and All That offers a humorous but accurate account of the civil war: ". . .Stephen and Matilda (or Maud) spent the reign escaping from each other over the snow in nightgowns. . ." The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle addressed both the virtues of the man, and the nature of the era: "In the days of this King there was nothing but strife, evil, and robbery, for quickly the great men who were traitors rose against him. When the traitors saw that Stephen was a good-humoured, kindly, and easy-going man who inflicted no punishment, then they committed all manner of horrible crimes . . . And so it lasted for nineteen years while Stephen was King, till the land was all undone and darkened with such deeds, and men said openly that Christ and his angels slept."
Comte de Boulogne et Mortaign
King of EnglandSTEPHEN, the only monarch of that name who has ruled over England, now seized upon the crown which his uncle had so fondly imagined he had secured to his daughter Maude. He was the third of the four Sons that Henry's sister Adela, had borne to her husband, the Earl of Blois. Sailing from Whitsand, he landed on the Kentish coast, and although repulsed from Dover and Canterbury, by the suspicions or foregone knowledge of the inhabitants, he was welcomed by the citizens of London, who immediately proclaimed him king. Winchester also was brought over to him by the influence of the bishop, his brother, and here too he was joined by the Archbishop of Canterbury, by Roger, Bishop of Sarum, and by William de Pont d'Arche, who surrendered to him the keys of the castle and of the royal treasures. A little casuistry, such as is usually supplied in these eases, absolved him as well as others, from the previous oath of allegiance to Matilda, while if the primate felt any scruple, it was removed at once by the ready oath of Ralph Bigod, the household steward, who swore that Henry on his death-bed had disinherited Matilda, and left his crown to Stephen. By the advice of these adherents, the new monarch at once proceeded to his coronation, though neither prelates nor barons had yet arrived, or signified their acquiescence, binding himself by oath not to appropriate to himself the vacant benefices, nor to molest any one in the possession of woods and forests, nor to levy dane-gelt, as had been done by his uncle just deceased. His generosity, for the exercise of which he found ample funds in the royal treasure, and his many popular qualities, soon drew over to him the leading nobles, and conciliated the favour of the people in general. A few only held out for a time, and they were the new families which the policy of the late king had raised to opulence, but even these were at length intimidated by threats, or seduced by promises, 'till at length the accession of Stephen was admitted by the entire nation.
While events were thus running their course in England, Matilda had entered Normandy and been admitted into Damfront and the neighbouring towns. But the excesses committed by the Angevins, who followed soon after under the command of her husband, revived the slumbering spirit of animosity between the two nations; and before a month had expired they were compelled to retire into their own country. To prevent the return of their unwelcome guests, the Norman barons met in council, and were about to offer the duchy to Theobald, when Stephen stept in ere it was too late, and by his promises and judicious conduct, persuaded them to renew the ancient connection between Normandy and England. Yet even now the cause of Matilda did not seem to be altogether desperate. In order to support her succession, David, king of Scotland, again invaded England, and so successfully that he reduced Carlisle, Norham, Alnwick, and Newcastle, compelling the inhabitants to swear fealty to his protege. But his career was now checked by the advance of Stephen at the head of a numerous army; a battle seemed inevitable; and then it was that David recollected he was related in the same degree to both competitors. A peace in consequence was concluded, the most important article of which was, that Henry, prince of Scotland, did homage to Stephen, and received from him the towns of Carlisle, Doncaster, and Huntingdon.
While the king was thus employed with the Scots, all Wales had risen in arms, and after the chieftains had laid waste the neighbouring English counties they retired in safety to their mountain fastnesses loaded with plunder. Stephen, however, had no leisure to retaliate upon these barbarians. Although he had received the investiture of Normandy from Louis he was anything but the undisputed master of the duchy, for he had not only to encounter the opposition of Geoffrey and his Angevins, but he found that his own adherents did not more detest the common enemy than they did the mercenaries, who fought in his cause under William of Ipres. His actual authority did not extend beyond the towns, where he had garrisons, and where the expression of the popular feeling was kept under by fear of his troops, while the great barons held themselves aloof in their castles, and indulged in the old feudal right of private warfare with each other, under pretence of maintaining the cause of Stephen or Matilda, as it might best suit them at the moment In the meanwhile the people suffered on all hand, and the same causes were equally leading to the same result in England. As we have already seen, it had been the object of the preceding monarchs to restrain and curtail the power of the barons, and to a great extent they had been successful. But in doing this they had acted much like the gardener, who crops the weeds in his garden and thus certainly prevents the farther spreading of their seeds, yet leaves their roots to spring up at another season, when his careful hand shall be wanting. Too much power had been left to them, and too little to the law, and they, who had been prohibited with few exceptions from fortifying their castles, now turned every mansion into a stronghold, from which they could safely defy both the king and the people, whose hostility they were constantly provoking by their freebooting and licentious spirit. To subdue these petty tyrants it was necessary to levy armies, and lay a regular siege to each in succession, at a consider able expense both of time and money. The mistaken policy of the king in treating these vanquished offenders with indulgence as a matter of course gave them encouragement to renew their warfare against the law and the people, so often as his absence afforded them an opportunity, till at last even his patience be came exhausted. In a very reasonable fit of anger he caused Arnulf of Hesdin and his ninety-three associates to be hanged, a salutary example, that only wanted to be more general to have produced the greatest benefits.
We have just seen how peace was concluded with the Scots, but peace with a country at that time so barbarous was only a truce to be broken the moment they could do so with safety. Twice within the first six months of the year 1138 did the Scotch king, David, cross the border with his hordes of savages, assisted by English and Norman exiles, and lay waste the northern counties. In August he advanced for a third time, and was suffered by the supineness of the natives, or their want of proper means of defence, to penetrate as far as Yorkshire. Dearly did the people pay for their own faults, or the errors of their rulers, for in no time or country has war been carried on with the same ruthless ferocity as by David in these incursions. Churches were profaned, villages were burnt to the ground, the young, the aged, and the defenceless, were slaughtered without respect to sex or persons; or if a few females distinguished for birth or beauty were spared in the spirit of barbarous caprice, it was only to undergo a fate to which death itself had been mercy. They were stript and bound together with leathern thongs, in which state they were driven into Scotland at the spear's point, where after having experienced every kind of indignity, they were kept as slaves, or bartered away for cattle to the various chieftains in the neighbourhood. The pretence for all this cruelty was, that Stephen had promised and refused to David the earldom of Northumberland.
It was reserved for an old and decrepit churchman to put an end to such atrocities by kindling in the people a more becoming spirit of resistance. Thurstan, Archbishop of York, although little calculated for the duties of a soldier had yet the heart of one, and when all around him had abandoned themselves to a cowardly despair he assembled the northern barons with their retainers, and by his noble exhortations induced them to arm against the enemy. Three days were spent in fasting and devotion, and the fire of courage, that would seem to have gone out in the hearts of the people, was rekindled at the altar of religion. On the fourth day, the noble prelate dismissed them with his blessing, and on getting about two miles beyond Northallerton, they received notice of the advance of their barbarian enemy. They then fixed a mast, by way of standard, into the frame-work of a carriage, from which circumstance the subsequent battle acquired, and has ever since retained, the name of "the battle of the standard." On the top of it arose a cross, in which was fixed a silver box containing the sacrament, while below waved the banners of the three patron saints, Peter, Wilfrid, and John of Beverley, and every art was used to rouse the enthusiasm of the soldiers. From the foot' of this novel standard, Walter Espec addressed them in the ardent language of a warrior, who knew no fear but the fear of defeat ; from the carriage itself the Bishop of Orkneys, Thurstan's representative, read the prayer of absolution; and the kneeling multitude, as they shouted a brief "Amen!" started up to meet the enemy.
Amongst the invaders there had been that dissension, which is usually found to be the forerunner of defeat. The elite of the Scotch army, the English and Norman refugees had, as was usual with them, claimed the honour of being first in action, a point which the Galloways claimed as being the descendants of the ancient Picts, a race scarcely more barbarous than themselves, and these pretensions were supported by Malise, Earl of Strathern, who exclaimed, "Why should we trust so much to these Frenchmen? I wear no armour; but there is not one among them, that will keel) pace with me today." This boast excited the ire of Allan de Percy, but the men of Galloway carried their point with the king, who, himself a barbarian, naturally enough sympathised with the claims of barbarians. Favoured by a mist, they were now advancing upon the English whom they might perhaps have surprised before they could get themselves into battle array, when their march was checked by the address of Robert de Bruce and Bernard de Baliol. These barons, who held land in either country repaired to David, and advised him to a peace, but their counsels being rejected, they renounced all allegiance to him and returned to the English, closely followed, however, by the Scots, who rushed onward to the fray, as usual, with loud shouts. The first ranks yielded to the shock, but nothing could in the least move the serried mass about the standard. It was to no purpose that the Scotch sought to break through the forest of spears opposed to them, and while engaged in this fruitless task the arrows flew fast and thick, making a fearful havoc among them. Unable to endure any longer this deadly shower, they broke and fled, and so complete was the route, that of seven and twenty thousand men, nearly every one had perished on the battlefield, or in the subsequent flight. Fatal, however, as this day was to the Scotch it did not at once put an end to their inroads, and it was only by the mediation of Cardinal Alberic, the papal legate, that peace was again concluded between the countries.
While the people fought their own battles in the north, Stephen was engaged in a contest with three powerful churchmen in the south,—Roger, Bishop of Sarum, and his two nephews, Alexander, Bishop of Lincoln, and Nizel, Bishop of Ely. More like lay-barons than ecclesiastics in their mode of living, they dwelt in fortified castles, never went abroad without a numerous retinue of knights, and had yet more excited Stephen's jealousy, by their supposed attachment to the cause of his rival, Matilda. Getting possession of their persons by an unworthy stratagem, he compelled them to give up to him their castles, a piece of success, which threatened to end in his ruin, by involving him in a contest with the whole body of the church, which had hitherto been his most profitable ally. To all the remonstrances of his friends, and even of the papal legate, Stephen turned a deaf ear, and Matilda, taking advantage of this breach, landed in Suffolk, to dispute with him the sceptre of her father. A civil war now ensued to add to the other calamities that had so long affected the kingdom. Each of the rivals was followed by numerous partizans, the result of self-interest in all its various forms and combinations, the royal garrisons upholding the king's cause while the standard of Matilda floated triumphantly at Dover, Canterbury, and Bristol. Many of the principal nobles stood aloof from either party, maintaining a real independence in their well-fortified castles, while they feigned to be neutral or submissive, 'till the kingdom might in truth be said, to be governed by as many rulers as there were barons too powerful for the royal hand to control them. Plunder and lawlessness became the regular order of things, the only security of each individual being his strength or skill to protect himself.
Under such circumstances the pitched battle that was now fought between the king in person, and Matilda's forces, under the guidance of Earl Robert, could hardly be thought a misfortune to the nation at large. It was in the vicinity of the Trent, that the hostile forces met, when on the first shock the royal cavalry fled in confusion, either from cowardice or treachery. The infantry stood firm although opposed to superior numbers, being animated by the presence of the king, who fought for his crown with all the energy of despair. His sword was shivered; his battle-axe was broken; and at last a stone brought him to the ground, when he was made prisoner and brought before Matilda. The latter showed herself unworthy of the victory, that had been achieved for her, by loading the unfortunate man with chains, and keeping him closely confined in Bristol castle.
The strength of the king's party was now in a great measure broken, although his consort, who also bore the name of Matilda, continued to maintain a faint show of resistance. Those how ever, who had been made prisoners, were glad to regain freedom by the surrender of their castles, and those, who had before wavered, were easily persuaded to join the triumphant faction. The only person to be feared, was the Bishop of Winchester, the king's brother. For a time he kept himself aloof in dignified silence, but his wealth, birth, and authority, as the papal legate, made him of two much importance to be left long in this state of doubtful neutrality, and every effort was made to win him over. At length he was persuaded to acknowledge the Empress Matilda, for "England's lady," and unmindful of his oath of allegiance to the imprisoned king, no less than of the natural affection of a brother, he mounted the altar-steps, and solemnly blessed all who should obey her, and cursed all who should resist. Under his auspices too a synod was held, in which he denounced the reign of Stephen, and the manner in which he had obtained the crown, and eventually he succeeded in bringing over the greater part of those assembled to his own opinions. The price of this fraternal treachery was commensurate with the crime; the bishop was to have the first place in her councils, and to have in his discretion the disposal of the abbacies and bishoprics as they should fall vacant, a promise which was farther guarantied to him by the plighted word of the barons and of Matilda's brother. In the very act of committing as gross a piece of perfidy as the human brain could well imagine, he was contented to believe that oaths and pledges could be binding.
The Londoners for a time objected to this new usurpation, but even they at length yielded to the persuasions of the legate; and now Matilda might seem to be in safe possession of the prize, which she had purchased at the cost of so much blood, and by the introduction of a civil war within the bosom of her native country. Her own insolent and vindictive spirit defeated all such expectations. So long as she had to struggle for the crown, she carefully hid her pride and arrogance under the thickest veil of dissimulation; but no sooner did she fancy herself free from all farther danger of opposition, than, giving way to her natural disposition, she contrived to alienate her warmest partizans, while she roused the dormant enmity of others by fines and persecutions. Not contented with holding Stephen in close confinement, she repelled with insult the prayers of his queen for his liberation, and, what was yet more perilous to her own claims, when the legate proposed as the price of the king's solemn resignation of the crown, she should confer the earldoms of Boulogne and Moretoil, on his nephew, Eustace, he met with a scornful denial. Nor was she satisfied with having thus raised up for herself a powerful enemy in the body of the church; as if her authority was too powerful to be shaken by anything, instead of attempting to conciliate the Londoners, she imposed upon them a heavy tax, in punishment for their previous loyalty to Stephen, and added contempt to injustice, in scornfully rejecting their petitions, that they might have restored to them the privileges they had enjoyed under Edward the Confessor.
The deposed queen saw in these continued acts of imprudence, a favourable opportunity for the recovery of her husband's rights and freedom. Collecting a body of horse, she suddenly appeared on the south side of the city. The bells rang out an alarm; the citizens flew to arms; and the Empress, who was sitting at table, had barely time to escape with a few followers to Oxford, while the rest of her friends squandered and dispersed like an army broken in the field, and betook themselves to the security of their several castles.
Suspecting the sincerity of the legate, Matilda now sent him a summons to attend her. The answer was that "he was getting himself ready," an answer, it must be admitted, not well calculated to allay her misgivings. Hereupon she attempted to surprise him at Winchester, but as she entered at one gate he fled by another, and having been thus foiled, with the danger increasing about her every moment, she called to her aid her brother Robert, Earl of Gloucester, her uncle David, King of Scots, and others of her principal adherents. She then besieged the episcopal palace and a fortress that had been built by the bishop in the heart of the city. Before either could be taken, Henry had collected forces enough to besiege the besiegers, who, after enduring every privation for seven weeks, and losing numbers in the conflicts that took place daily and even hourly, re solved upon endeavouring to escape. Sunday was the day chosen for the attempt, in the hope that at such a time the enemy would be less vigilant. They were deceived. Of the whole party few escaped except Matilda and her faithful attendant, Brian Fitz Count, who had the good fortune to reach Devizes Castle in safety, while the rest making front against the pursuers to favour her evasion, were for the most part either killed or captured. This battle and defeat took place at Stourbridge.
The queen shewed herself deserving of this success. Although the Earl of Gloucester still held her husband in chains, she allowed him every indulgence in the castle of Rochester, compatible with his safe keeping, and in the end it was agreed that he should be exchanged for the captive king. The rival parties were now much in the same position they had been before the battle of Lincoln, except that the legate found himself in an awkward dilemma. He had embraced both sides and been true to neither. In the synod convened at Westminster, and at which Stephen himself was present he endeavoured to justify himself as well as he could, listening without shame or anger to the reproaches of those who taunted him with his double backslidings.
At this crisis Stephen fell dangerously ill, whereupon Robert sailed to the continent to solicit aid from Geoffry, the husband of the Empress Matilda. He refused, from hatred to his wife, but agreed to entrust their eldest son, Henry, to the earl's care, and the war was renewed with various success to the principal belligerents, though with uniform loss to the country, that suffered alike from friend and enemy. The death of Stephen's eldest son, Eustace, after a time afforded a chance of peace, which both parties being pretty equally balanced, neither was disposed to refuse. Stephen adopted Henry for his successor, to the exclusion of his own surviving son, William, who did homage to the duke, and in return, received all the lands and honours possessed by Stephen before his accession.
The king did not long live to enjoy the quiet purchased by so severe a sacrifice. After a reign of
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