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Medieval Sourcebook:
William of Newburgh: Book Two

Book One | Book Two | Book Three | Book Four | Book Five | Introduction

Index:

Chapter 1: The commencement of the reign of King Henry II <to index>

[1] In the eleven hundred and fifty-fourth year from the delivery of the Virgin, Henry, grandson of Henry the elder, by his daughter the late empress, having arrived in England from Normandy, after the demise of king Stephen, received his hereditary kingdom; and, being greeted by all, and consecrated king with the holy unction, was hailed throughout England by crowds exclaiming, "Long live the king!" The people, having experienced the misery of the late reign whence so many evils had originated, now anticipated better things of their new sovereign, more especially as prudence and resolution, and a strict regard to justice were apparent in him; and at his very outset he bore the appearance of a great prince. Moreover, he issued an edict, that such foreigners as had flocked to England under king Stephen for the sake of booty, as well as military service -- and especially the Flemings, of whom a vast number at that time burdened the kingdom -- should return to their own country by an appointed day, to exceed which would be attended with certain danger. Terrified at this edict, they glided away in a moment, as quickly as a phantom vanishes; while numbers wondered at their instantaneous disappearance. He next commanded the newly-erected castles, which were not in being in the days of his grandfather, to be demolished, with the exception of a few advantageously situated, which he wished to retain for himself, or his partisans, for the defense of the kingdom.

[2] He then paid serious attention to public regulations, and was anxiously vigilant that the vigor of the law, which in king Stephen's time had appeared lifeless and forgotten, should be revived. He appointed officers of law and justice throughout his realm, for the purpose of restraining the audacity of offenders, and administering redress to complainants, according to the merits of the case; while he himself either enjoyed his pleasure or bestowed his royal care on more important avocations. As often, however, as any of the judges acted remissly or improperly, and he was assailed by the complaints of the people, the king applied the remedy of his royal revision, and properly corrected their negligence or excess. Such being the outset of the new sovereign, the peaceably disposed congratulated and commended, while the lawless muttered and were terrified. The ravening wolves fled, or were changed to sheep; or, if not totally changed, yet they dwelt harmlessly amid the flock, through fear of the law. Swords were beaten into ploughshares, and spears into pruning-hooks; none learned war any more, but all either enjoyed the leisure of that long-wished-for tranquillity now kindly accorded them by God, or were intent on their several employments.

Chapter 2: Henry II restores the royal domains to their ancient state <to index>

The king, reflecting that the royal revenues, which, in the time of his grandfather, had been very ample, were greatly reduced, because, through the indolence of king Stephen, they had for the most part passed away to numerous other masters, commanded them to be restored entire by the usurper, of whatsoever degree, and brought back to their former jurisdiction and condition. Such as had hitherto become proprietors in royal towns and villages produced for their defense the charters which they had either extorted from king Stephen, or earned by their services: but these could avail them nothing, as the grants of an usurper could not be permitted to operate against the claims of a lawful prince. Highly indignant at first thereat, but afterwards terrified and dispirited, the resigned -- though reluctantly, yet entirely -- everything they had usurped, and held for a considerable time as if by legal title, whilst all. throughout each county of the kingdom, submitted to the royal pleasure (with the exception of one, of whom brief mention will be made hereafter), the king proceeded beyond the Humber, and summoned William, earl of Albemarle who, in the times of Stephen, had been more truly a king there than his master, to surrender in this respect, as well as the others, to the weight of his authority. Hesitating a long while, and boiling with indignation, he at last, though sorely hurt, submitted to his power, and very reluctantly resigned whatever of the royal domains he had possessed for many years, more especially that celebrated and noble castle of Scarborough, the situation of which we know to be as follows.

Chapter 3: Of the site of Scarborough Castle <to index>

A rock of stupendous height and size, nearly inaccessible on all sides from precipices, repels the ocean by which it is surrounded, except on a narrow ascent which stretches to the west; on its summit is a beautiful grassy plain, more than sixty acres in extent, possessing a fountain of fresh water, which issues from the rock. At its entrance, which is difficult of access, is situated a royal castle; and beneath the ascent the town commences, extending its sides to the south and north, but fronting the west. It is defended on this side by its own wall, but on the east by the castle rock; while both sides are washed by the sea. This place William, earl of Albemarle, above-mentioned, deemed extremely proper for the erection of a fortress; and possessing vast influence in the county of York, he improved the nature of the situation by a costly work, and surrounded the whole superficies of the rock by a wall; he also constructed a tower on the entrance of the ascent, which falling to decay in process of time, the king commanded a large and magnificent castle to be erected on its site.

Chapter 4: Of the siege and successful surrender of Bridgenorth, and the restoration of the northern parts of of England by the king of Scotland to the king of England <to index>

[1] The king, succeeding in his affairs in this county according to his wishes, returned to the southern parts of England, and found in rebellion Hugh de Mortimer, a valiant nobleman, who had usurped the royal castle of Bridgenorth for many years. When he was commanded to rest satisfied with his own property, and to restore what he had acquired belonging to the king, he most obstinately refused, and prepared for resistance in every possible way. The result, however, proved that his pride and indignation were greater than his courage: for the king, quickly assembling his army, besieged Bridgenorth, which surrendered after a bold resistance for several days; and he, whose heart was just before like that of a lion, became humble and suppliant, and received pardon.

[2] The king caused it to be intimated to the king of Scotland, who held, as his own proper right, the northern counties of England (that is to say, Northumberland, Cumberland, and Westmoreland, which were formerly obtained by David, king of Scots, in the name of the empress Matilda, and her heirs), that the king of England ought not to be defrauded of so large a portion of his dominions, nor could he tamely suffer it to be mutilated; and that it was just, that what had been acquired in his name should be restored. The Scottish king prudently called to mind that the king of England had the superiority, both in regard to power and the justice of his cause, in the matter at issue; and although he might allege the oath which was sworn to his grandfather David, when he received knighthood from him, yet he restored the territories in question undiminished; and in return he received from the king the county of Huntingdon, which belonged to him of ancient right.

[3] These matters being thus settled, England, for a time, enjoyed quiet and security throughout all her borders. Moreover, the king possessed the dignity of more extensive empire than any other who had hitherto reigned in England; for it extended from the farthest boundary of Scotland to the Pyrenean mountains.

Chapter 5: Of the war with the Welsh, and their reconciliation with the king <to index>

[1] Not long afterwards a contention arose between the king and the Welsh -- a restless and barbarous people -- originating either through his making some unusual exactions, in consequence of his power, or on their insolently denying so great a prince his customary tribute, from too great a confidence in the protection afforded by their woody mountains and valleys; or else from their restlessness, and clandestine incursions into the neighboring confines of the English. Having collected an immense army from every part of England, the king determined to enter Wales, wherever it afforded the easiest access. The Welsh, assembling together, kept watch on the borders, and cautiously avoided to descend into the plain, fearing to engage with men in mail, being themselves only lightly armed. They also lay concealed in their forests, and guarded their defiles.

[2] These Welsh are the remnant of the Britons, the first inhabitants of this island, now called England, but originally Britain; and it is notorious that they are of the same race and language as are the Britons on the continent; but when the Britons were being exterminated by the invading nations of the Angles, such as were able to escape fled into Wales, where, through the bounty of nature, they were secure against hostile attacks; and there this nation continues to the present day. This region lies opposite Ireland, on the western ocean, and is, on the other side, united to the English territory. It is, also, almost entirely surrounded by the sea, or inaccessible woods and fastnesses; consequently, the approach or entrance to it is extremely difficult; but within, it is known to possess impenetrable recesses, so that it is as dangerous for any prince to enter it with an army, as it is impossible afterwards to overrun it when entered. After its own nature, it produces men of savage manners, bold and faithless, greedy of the blood of others, and prodigal of their own; ever on the watch for rapine, and hostile to the English, as if by a natural instinct. In consequence of its forests it has abundant pasture for cattle; but having little level ground, and being barren of corn, is incapable of supplying its inhabitants with food, without importation from the adjacent counties of England; and since it cannot command this, except by the liberality or permission of the king of England, it is necessarily subject to his power; and if at any time he is irritated at the marauding incursions of the Welsh, from which, through their unbridled ferocity, they can with difficulty refrain, they are unable long to endure his anger, but are compelled to make submission to him.

[3] The king, entering their confines, after much opposition -- through the nature and difficulties of the country -- met with a very inauspicious commencement to his designs; for a portion of his army, proceeding incautiously through a wooded and marshy district, was much endangered by falling into an ambush, which the enemy had laid for him on his route, and where Eustace Fitz-John, a great and aged person, and highly renowned for wealth and wisdom, among the noblest chiefs of England, together with Robert de Curci, a man of equal rank, and many others, unfortunately perished. Those who had escaped the danger, supposing the king had fallen among the rest (though, by the favor of God, he had forced his way through, and was now in safety), related his death to the troops, as they approached, and hastening to the defile, induced a large portion of the army, disheartened at the melancholy report, ingloriously to fly; insomuch that Henry of Essex, a man of the highest distinction, and hereditary standard-bearer to the king, throwing down the royal banner by which the army was to be animated, took to flight, and proclaimed to all he met that the king was dead. For this misconduct he was afterwards publicly branded with treachery by a certain nobleman, and, by the king's command, compelled to single combat with his accuser, and was vanquished by him. The king, however, mercifully rescued him from sentence of death, ordered him to become a monk at Reading, and enriched his exchequer with his ample fortune -- but of this hereafter.

[4] When the king, therefore, rapidly hastening to the spot, had gladdened the astonished army by his presence, the disordered troops, recovering their strength and spirits, joined their ranks, and for the future proceeded more cautiously against the wiles of the enemy; but when the king deemed it proper to attack the Welsh by sea also, and had ordered a large fleet to be prepared, the ambassadors of the enemy approached with overtures for peace, and shortly afterwards their princes suppliantly attended him. On their resigning to him some of the fortresses on their frontiers, to conciliate the favor of so great a prince, and doing him homage with an oath, the calm of peace gratefully smiled, after the clouds of war had subsided; and so the army returned home with joy, and the king betook himself to other concerns or amusements.

Chapter 6: How Nicholas, an Englishman, became pope <to index>

[1] In the first year of the reign of king Henry II died Anastasius, the successor of Eugenius, after having been pope one year. He was succeeded by Nicholas, bishop of Albano, who, changing his name with his fortune, was called Adrian. Of this man it may be useful to relate how he was lifted as it were, from the dust, to sit in the midst of princes, and to occupy the throne of apostolical glory.

[2] He was born in England, and his father was a clerk of slender means, who, abandoning the world and his stripling boy, became a monk at St. Albans. When grown, the son, being too poor to pay for his education, frequented this monastery for his daily subsistence. His father, ashamed and chiding his indolence with taunting expressions, drove him from the spot, with great indignation, and destitute of every comfort. Left to himself, and urged by hard necessity to attempt something, he went to France, ingenuously ashamed either to dig or to beg in England. Succeeding but indifferently in France, he went further, wandering beyond the Rhone into the district called Provence. There is, in that country, a noble monastery of regular canons, dedicated to St. Rufus; arriving at that place, and finding occasion for continuing there, he endeavored to recommend himself to the fraternity by discharging every possible service. As he was elegant in person, pleasant in countenance, prudent in speech, of ready obedience, he gained the favor of all; and, being invited to assume the habit of a canon, he settled there for many years, the most exact observer of regular discipline. Being of excellent abilities, and fluent in speech, he attained, by frequent and unremitted study, to great science and eloquence; hence it came to pass that, on the death of the abbot, the brethren unanimously and formally elected him their superior.

[3] After he had presided over them for some time, repentant, and indignant at having elected a foreigner to rule over them, they became faithless and hostile to him. Their hatred by degrees became so excessive, that they now looked angrily at him, in whom they had before been well pleased, and and at length they instituted charges against him and summoned him before the apostolical see. Eugenius, of pious memory, who at that time sat on the pontifical throne, when he had heard the complaints of these rebellious children against their father, and perceived the prudence and modesty of his defense, interposed his effectual labors for the restoration of peace; and strongly recommending, and often exhorting each party to be no longer at variance with the other, but to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, he dismissed them in amity. Malice, however, which knows no repose, could not be long at rest, and the tempest revived with redoubled fury. The same venerable pontiff was again disturbed, his ears yet ringing with the complaints and accusations of the brethren; piously and prudently regarding each party, he said, "I know, my brethren, where the seat of Satan is; I know what excites this storm among you. Depart; choose a superior with whom you may, or rather, with whom you will be at peace, for this one shall burden you no longer." Wherefore, dismissing the fraternity, and retaining the abbot in the service of St. Peter, he ordained him bishop of Albano; and soon after, having proof of his activity, sent him as legate, with full power, among those savage nations the Danes and Norwegians. Having wisely and actively executed his office amid these barbarous nations during several years, he returned to Rome in health and gladness, and was received by the pope and cardinals with honor and applause. A few days afterwards, Anastasius, the successor of Eugenius, died; and with the concurrent wishes of all, Nicholas, taking the name of Adrian, assumed the pontificate. Not unmindful of his early instruction, and chiefly in memory of his father, he honored the church of the blessed martyr, Alban, with donations, and distinguished it with lasting privileges.

Chapter 7: The reason of the revolt of the king's brother Geoffrey, and his reconciliation <to index>

[1] While England was enjoying peace and security from having quelled and subjugated the Welsh, king Henry was informed that his brother Geoffrey was exciting disturbances abroad. The cause of the dissension between the brothers was this. The illustrious earl of Anjou had begotten, of the late empress Matilda, three sons -- Henry, Geoffrey, and William. So when both the paternal and maternal rights being united in Henry, as the firstborn, belonged to him exclusively, the earl was unwilling that a provision for the others should be totally dependent on their brother's good-will, not knowing how he might be disposed towards them. In his last hours, therefore, he bequeathed by will the county of Anjou to his second son; but, as England was at that time in suspense, he said, "When Henry shall have obtained the fullness of his mother's right, that is, Normandy together with England, let him yield to his brother Geoffrey the whole of the property which he shall have derived from his paternal ancestors. In the meantime let Geoffrey be satisfied with the three distinguished castles of Chinon, Loudun, and Mirabeau;" and, as Henry was at that time accidentally absent, though quickly to return, he bound the prelates and nobles who were present under oath, that his body should not be buried until his son had sworn that he would not nullify the will of his father.

[2] Shortly after his decease, his son, when he arrived to celebrate his exequies, heard of the adjuration of his father, and for a long time hesitated; at length all beseeching him not to suffer the corpse of his father to putrefy unburied, to his own eternal and inexpiable disgrace, he yielded to their solicitations, and, not without tears, took the required oath. When the funeral of his father was over, the will was opened -- for the present he dissembled his grief; but on succeeding to the kingdom, he caused to be intimated to the Roman pontiff (as it is said) the compulsion under which he had sworn to what he was not aware of; and as extorted oaths, or promises, are not binding unless ratified by subsequent assent, he (as they affirm) easily obtained absolution from his engagement for compulsory swearing, or promising, creates no necessity for ratification, which is only effected by the liberty of the will. Secured by this plea, neither out of respect to his father's will, nor his own oath, would he make satisfaction to his brother.

[3] Irritated at this, Geoffrey having fortified the three castles aforesaid which his father had left him, against all mischances, as he supposed, harassed the neighboring provinces; but the king, hastily assembling his army, laid siege to Chinon -- a castle so called, whose strength was such that nature seemed to vie with human art in fortifying and defending it; but he reduced it in a short time, and pardoned his humiliated and suppliant brother; and depriving him of his castles, to prevent his ambitious views in future, he granted him a portion of level country for his support; and when Geoffrey was pining with dejection, now accusing the severity of his brother, now sighing at the malevolence of fortune, an unexpected event transported him with joy, for the inhabitants of the noble city of Nantes having no certain ruler, or none with whom they might be well-pleased, admiring his activity and perseverance, chose him for their true and acknowledged lord, and on his arrival they delivered up to him their city with the adjacent province. Not long enjoying this good fortune, he was carried off by a premature death; and the earl of Richmond, who at that time had very considerable authority in Brittany, immediately entered the city as its legitimate owner. The king, on hearing this, issued an order for the earldom of Richmond to be applied to the service of his exchequer, and forthwith embarking for Normandy, he claimed the city of Nantes, by right of succession to his brother; and so completely did he intimidate the earl by his extensive armament, that attempting hardly a feeble resistance, he soothed his opponent by relinquishing the city.

Chapter 8: Of the destruction of Milan; and of the relics of the magi <to index>

[1] Nearly about this time Frederick, emperor of Germany and Italy, laid siege to, took, and destroyed the city of Milan; which for a long time had continued in a state of rebellion, from confidence in its strength and resources. The Lombards, a restless and warlike people, thirsting after unbounded liberty, and proud in consequence of the number of their cities, and the greatness of their strength, had many years before revolted in a great measure from the emperor of the Romans. But, while the most opulent cities contended with each other for the superiority, and desired to govern the rest, they only augmented thereby the force of the emperor against themselves. At last, the Milanese surpassing in wealth and power, affected the supremacy of all Lombardy, and had already subdued some cities and destroyed others which resisted, when the people of Pavia, unequal in strength, but disdaining their control, went over to the party of the emperor. Other cities, following their example, entered into a treaty with him.

[2] Purposing to attack the Milanese who now were weakened by the desertion of all their allies, the emperor collected the forces of his empire. Converting the desire of dominion into an obstinate defense of liberty, they, too, fortified themselves by every mode against the imperial assault. After having destroyed and demolished the suburbs, lest they should be as prejudicial to the besieged as serviceable to the besiegers, they took the same measures with a noble and ancient monastery without the walls, noted for the relics of saints, transferring within the walls whatever was there discovered sacred and venerable, but more especially the bodies of the three Magi, who by reverencing the birth of the Savior with holy offerings became the first-fruits of the Gentiles to God and to the Lamb. This treasure which had been formerly deposited in a secret part of this church was unknown even to the officiating monks and clerks; but when the church itself was pulled down to the foundations, it was discovered, and made evident by manifest proofs, which declared that those men, whose memory is blessed, after having honored and adored their infant Savior, returned into their own country, and were alive even after the triumph of His passion; and having received the sacrament of baptism from the apostles in their ministry, migrated to Him whom they had formerly adored in His cradle, now to be honored by Him when sitting on the right hand of His Father. Nor is it known by what persons their sacred relics were brought and deposited in this place. Their remains, however, were entire, their bones and nerves covered by a skin dry and incorruptible, as it is supposed from the virtue of the balm with which, after the heathen mode, their bodies are presumed to have been anointed after death. In addition to this, a gold circle, as they say, encompassed their bodies when discovered, in order to keep them together.

[3] Milan was besieged by the emperor Frederick, the number of whose forces may be estimated from the circumstance of his being enabled to attempt the reduction of so very powerful a city, inordinately boasting of the multitude and boldness of her inhabitants. After various events, however, and multiplied encounters, it surrendered, and fell into the enemy's hands. The victorious emperor razed the city, but did not destroy the inhabitants, because they had surrendered themselves. He, however, dispersed them, and transferred those celebrated relics of the Magi, there deposited, into Germany, to the inexpressible grief of the Lombards, and honored the city of Cologne with the custody of this treasure.

Chapter 9: Of the schism in the church of Rome, the Council of Pavia, and the Gallican Convention <to index>

[1] In the fifth year of his reign, Henry, the illustrious king of England, was solemnly crowned at Lincoln on Christmas-day, not within the walls, indeed, on account, I suppose, of that ancient superstition which king Stephen (as before related) laudably condemned and ridiculed; but in a village adjoining the suburbs.

[2] In the following year, pope Adrian paid the debt of nature; on whose decease, the cardinals, disagreeing in the choice of a sovereign pontiff, made a schism. in the church; and while parties were raging against each other, they broke also the bond of ecclesiastical peace throughout the world ; the greater and wiser part, indeed, fixing on Roland, chancellor of the church of Rome, a religious and learned man, canonically consecrated him; but a very inconsiderable portion fixing upon Octavian, a man of rank, fearless of the divine judgment, debased him with their unhallowed choice. Each party hurled the sentence of excommunication and condemnation against its opponents, and anxiously sought the support of the churches and nobles to their cause. The former assumed the name of Alexander [III], the destined victor from the justice of his cause; the other vainly assumed the title of Victor [IV], an empty name, a deceitful omen indicative only of future disgrace. This rent might soon have been made whole, and the few might have yielded and been united to the many, had not the emperor Frederick, hating Alexander from his ancient dislike to Roland, determined on embracing and seconding, by every possible means, the cause of Octavian. At length he commanded all the prelates of his dominions, that is to say, the Italian and German bishops, to assemble at Pavia, as if for discussing and investigating the claims of which party preponderated, but in fact, that, by depressing Alexander, and approving his opponent, they might celebrate the premature victory of the aforesaid Victor. He ordered the antagonists themselves also to be present, to abide by the decree of this council. Victor, indeed, attended, as if to abide the decision, but Alexander, not only guardedly, but even openly refused the prejudgment, which, under the name of judgment, was preparing for him.

[3] The bishops, both from the German and Italian empire, assembled by the imperial order at Pavia, with a multitude of prelates of inferior order, all on the side of Frederick, who, with his princes, made a formidable appearance. Whatever favored the cause of Alexander, as there was no person to plead for him, was either suppressed in silence, or craftily perverted, or turned against him; and what was wanting in truth to the merits of the adversary was supplied by art. In consequence of this, accepting Victor with all due solemnity, as the genuine successor of St. Peter, they passed sentence on Alexander by a general decree, as a schismatic and rebel against God. The emperor, with the whole assembly of princes and nobles, approved the acts of the council, and denounced punishment against all recusants. Moreover, he anxiously solicited, by every method, the illustrious kings of England and France to perpetual amity, by embracing his side of the question in this dispute. Inflexible, however, and carefully suspending their judgment, until they could perfectly know the truth of so delicate a matter, they also assembled, out of each kingdom, at a suitable time and place, a most respectable council of prelates and nobles. On the part of Octavian appeared his two principal partisans, who had been his electors, and the authors of the schism, Guido, cardinal of Crema, and John, cardinal of St. Martin; for Imarus, bishop of Tusculum, who had laid on him the hands of execration, had now departed this life. On behalf of the lord Alexander were present three cardinals, Henry of Pisa, John of Naples, and William of Pavia. The cardinal of Crema, then rising in the presence of the kings and prelates, before the whole multitude of the clergy and people there assembled, spoke on his own side, and against his adversary, with all his powers of genius and oratory. After he had concluded, William of Pavia, a most eloquent man, rising up, rebutted every allegation in the most convincing manner, and completely retorted nearly every word which the cardinal of Crema had uttered in behalf of his friend; and this he did so effectually, that he appeared fairly entangled and caught in his own words. At last, in this combat, as it were of mutual altercation, the truth of the whole business became so apparent, that both kings no longer hesitated to abjure the cause of Octavian and with their subject kingdoms to obey Alexander for the future, as a father in the things pertaining to God. On the departure of the before-mentioned schismatics with confusion and disgrace, our princes and prelates dissolved the assembly, having first solemnly hurled the sentence of excommunication against the rebels.

[4] In the meantime pope Alexander, residing securely in the territories of the king of Sicily, whose firm friendship he possessed, waited an opportunity of passing into France. The whole western empire, with the exception of the German provinces, obeyed him in pastoral concerns. The emperor, indeed, from private animosity, when once given up to a reprobate mind, and deeming it beneath his imperial majesty to be convinced even by reason, deferred for a long time to yield to the evident truth.

Chapter 10: Of the expedition to Toulouse of the illustrious earl of Barcelona <to index>

[1] The renowned king of England, Henry the second, in the seventh year of his reign, led his army into Gascony; the cause of which famous expedition was as follows. The earl of Poitou, who was also duke of Aquitaine, grandfather of Eleanor, queen first of France and then of England, being a man of such profuse expense that the surpassing affluence of his revenues was incapable of supporting his extravagance, was therefore obliged to borrow a large sum of money from the earl of St. Giles, a wealthy nobleman, to whom he pawned the noble city of Toulouse with its appurtenances; and, upon his death, he transmitted to his son the task of redeeming the pledge. He, too, resembling his father in prodigality, bequeathed to his heirs also the task of redeeming the city. Leaving an only daughter as his heir, who had married Louis, king of France, that prince claimed Toulouse, in right of his wife. Though the earl of St. Giles alleged no right whatever, yet he wholly usurped the city; and, watching his opportunity, appeased the king by marrying his sister Constance, widow of Eustace, son of king Stephen, who, on his demise, had returned to her brother; but when the divorce between the king and queen of France afterwards took place, the question concerning the resignation of Toulouse to the rightful heirs was again agitated, for Eleanor had now become the wife of the king of England. Upon the earl of St. Giles refusing to give it up, and vouching the king of France as having bestowed it upon him, the king of England collected an army throughout the whole of his dominions, and entered the territory of Gascony; and having also invited his friends either to follow or to meet him there, his army became augmented by immense numbers, and more especially by the earl of Barcelona, a great and powerful chief, not inferior to kings themselves.

[2] And here, as the opportunity presents itself, it may be worth while briefly to describe his more than kingly mind in royal magnificence. A little before our times, the illustrious king of Aragon, having several sons, through a pious impulse, dedicated one to Christ, in a monastery, designing that the rest should succeed him in turn. His destined successors, however, dying before him, last of all the father also departed this life. The nobles and people, fearing lest through the contentions of his nephews for the succession, the kingdom should be torn asunder, hastily assembled, and, providing for the approaching danger, immediately exalted the king's son from the cloister to the throne; and having settled the government, they compelled him to marry, for the sake of having children to succeed him, pleading the urgency of the case in mitigation of its impropriety, and alleging that necessity had no law. At length he begat an only daughter; and having managed the kingdom with commendable care until his daughter was of marriageable years, he summoned a meeting of the nobles.

[3] When they appeared before him, with nearly the whole military force of his realm, he addressed them to the following effect: "God Almighty pardon both you and me, my beloved friends; I have done foolishly, but you have compelled me. But may not he who has fallen yet rise up again? Will not that dreadful necessity, which you say is without law, restore whatever it has usurped against law, when there is no longer a reason for it? Behold, you have an heir for the kingdom begotten by me. Let an honorable marriage be sought out for this young princess, and thus the emergencies of the state will be provided for. Let the monk, therefore, return to his cloister, and for the future endeavor to heal his wounded conscience." All attempted to dissuade him, but when his pious and laudable purpose could not be obviated, he betrothed his daughter, at the instance of the nobility, to a most noble youth, the son of the earl of Barcelona; and, surrendering the kingdom with his daughter to him, this memorable personage, this singular despiser of the world, not longer enduring the remorse of his conscience, for purple resumed a cowl, and a cloister for a kingdom. After these transactions, they persuaded the youth that, as he was in possession of a kingdom, he should assume the crown and purple, the ensigns of royalty. This he refused, saying, "As none of my ancestors were of higher rank than a count, I am a count by nature: content with this, as I am not better, neither am I desirous to be greater than my forefathers; therefore, that in me fortune may not surpass nature, I waive the name and ensigns of a king. Moreover, that in me fortune may ever yield to nature, retaining the title of count, I do not refuse the greatness and power of a kingdom. In addition to this, were I to assume the regal dignity, I should be surpassed by some kings in riches and honor; but now, as I have the wealth of a kingdom with royal power, no count in the world can be equaled to the count of Barcelona. Wherefore I prefer being the first count to being, perhaps, not even the seventh king." Thus did this admirable man either argue or jest, from a noble contempt of royal dignity when exhorted by his friends to assume a kingly title. Nor would he ever be called king or duke, but only count of Barcelona, although he possessed, with the kingdom of Aragon, the duchy of Provence -- that is, all that region so called, which extends from the Rhone to the confines of Italy. Moreover, after his death, his son, according to the prerogative of maternal lineage, was solemnly crowned king by the Roman pontiff.

[4] The count of Barcelona, as well on account of his friendship for the king of England, as of his hostility to the earl of St. Giles, came, as we have related, with all the power of his subject people, to the expedition. of Toulouse. William surnamed Trencheveil, a noble and powerful man, lord of a few cities and many castles, also assisted the king of England with all the strength in his power, out of hatred to the count of St. Giles, in whose custody, as it is said, he had once been, and from whom he had escaped with difficulty and not without being deprived of many of his lands. The count of St. Giles, indeed, greatly fearing the attack of so large an army, implored the assistance of the king of France, who was his wife's brother, and uncle of his children. Burning with zeal for his nephews, the king came in haste to Toulouse with as large an army as he could collect. When this became known to the king of England, he forbore to lay siege to the city, out of deference to the royal person who was therein, and employed his army in overrunning the province and sacking its fortresses. He retook the city of Cahors, which had revolted, together with numerous castles in its neighborhood; at the same time he captured and sacked many others. After this, when William Trencheveil had recovered possession of the fortresses which bad fallen by the fortune of war into the hands of the count of St. Giles, the king returned into Normandy.

Chapter 11: Of the horrid murder of William Trencheveil, and how it was avenged <to index>

[1] But since mention of this William has been incidentally made, I must not omit a circumstance which was afterwards brought against him by his people, from the exuberance of malignity, showing what a trivial cause produced an offence which called loudly for expiation, and what a terrible instance of unheard-of vengeance followed. The circumstance is still fresh in memory, and I have ascertained it by frequent and undoubted relation. This man, great and noble among the great of that country, while peaceably governing his strongly defended territories on all sides after the expedition to Toulouse, at which he had been present, was under the necessity of assisting his nephew, then suffering from a hostile incursion. Proceeding first himself with a considerable force, he commanded the residue of the army to follow. A large body of youth, expert in arms and elate in spirits, rushing from the subject cities of Bezieres and Carcassonne, joined the expedition. It happened that a certain man of Bezieres, relying on the multitude of his associates, rudely affronted a knight of some consequence by taking away his warhorse (which they call a destrier) and loading him with baggage on the march. The knight, supported by the whole body of the cavalry made bitter complaint in presence of the commander, representing the outrage he had suffered, which, though not very costly, was yet highly disgraceful. The commander, anxious to appease the knights, who decidedly declared that they would immediately quit the army if the people of Bezieres were to be gratified by the impunity of their townsmen, delivered up the aggressor to the will of the complainants, who, inflicting a trivial but rather disgraceful punishment, dismissed him, as dishonored for the remainder of his days.

[2] At this, the citizens of Bezieres were vehemently enraged, as though the slight disgrace of an individual had brought shame on their whole body: consequently, all of them mournfully entreated their lord, on his return from the expedition, to wipe out the disgrace of his subject and devoted city, by some honorable and efficient means, He, from his obliging disposition, kindly and condescendingly replied that he would readily rectify what had been done for the necessity of appeasing the knights, and solemnly promised that he would, on a given day, satisfy his deserving citizens according to their inclinations. Accepting this promise they remained quiet for a time. On the appointed day, their lord, thus pledged, attended with his friends and noble vassals, and, in the cathedral church, awaited the arrival of the citizens, to whom he was about to make satisfaction in the presence of the bishop. Craftily dissembling their anger, and concealing their armor and daggers under their cloaks, they came into the cathedral. The man, who had given the offence and received the punishment, hereupon stepping forward exclaimed, "Behold me, a wretched unhappy being, and one weary of life, from the circumstance of being obliged to live in ignominy therefore deign, my lord, if it please you, to say whether you are willing to reverse my sentence, that I may be both desirous and able to survive." His lord then mildly and condescendingly replied, "I am ready, as I promised, to abide by the decision and award of the nobles and citizens here assembled." To this the offender rejoined, "You would speak to the purpose, if you would compensate me for the ignominy I have sustained by the grant of any honor from yourself; but since you cannot deal back honor, by the same mode as you dealt out disgrace to me, I can only expiate my ignominy by your blood." Saying which, these most abandoned citizens unsheathed the daggers they had secreted, attacked, and massacred their liege lord, with his friends and nobles, before the sacred altar; the bishop having in vain, nearly to his own destruction, endeavored to frustrate this cruel assassination.

[3] When this astounding and detestable affair became known to the surrounding people, abhorring the deed, they all vowed condign vengeance upon the authors of this infernal conspiracy; and the neighboring princes, supposing they would do service to God by annihilating this perverse people, prepared jointly to execute vengeance on the delinquents. These offenders confiding in the strength of their city, likewise fortified themselves by every means in their power. The Roman pontiff, also, having heard of this atrocious outrage, immediately hurled the weapons of ecclesiastical malediction against the criminals; while the king of Aragon, with other princes, forthwith laid siege to the accursed city. When the siege had been protracted for a time, and the difficulty of taking the town appeared to the assailants almost insurmountable, as well from the strength of the place, as from the resolute conduct of the besieged; the besiegers, weary of delay, in order that they might effect something, concluded a peace with the citizens whom they were unable to subdue, and reconciled them to their liege lord, the son of him whom they had murdered, covenanting that they should make satisfaction for his father's death. The treaty being concluded, the siege was raised and all seemed settled. But this, as afterwards appeared, was effected by divine appointment, that they who were unconquerable by force, and who had by artful perfidy cruelly murdered their mild and amiable master, should receive a similar retribution to their own destruction, and that the same measure should be dealt to them by the son, which they had in the first instance measured to the father. For after some time, when a reflection was cast upon this son, by a nobleman. either in sport or in earnest, that he had sold the blood of his deceased father to his perfidious citizens, he was so hurt at this expression, that deeming it disgraceful to keep faith with the faithless, and being urged alike by shame and grief, he meditated on taking early vengeance, by whatsoever means, for his father's murder. Having immediately disclosed the secret of his preconceived design to the illustrious king of Aragon, he received from him a large body of his most ferocious people, under pretence of affording him assistance against the count of St. Giles.

[4] Upon this, he proceeded hastily to the city of Bezieres (having first artfully spread a report that the count of St. Giles meditated an attack), and entreated the citizens to entertain the Aragonese, (since he was favored with the friendship and assistance of the king of Aragon), who were on their march and would shortly arrive, and to supply them with provisions upon fair terms of exchange. Whereupon the Aragonese, during several days arriving, not in bodies, indeed, lest they should appear formidable able, and their approach hostile, but in small parties at a time, at length completely filled the city with their numbers. And when they were quartered in every part of the town, on a signal being given from the citadel, they flew to arms; and, each man attacking the nearest citizens, they almost in a moment annihilated the entire population with insatiable fury.

[5] Thus, by God's just appointment, did this accursed people receive the due reward of their perfidy and cruelty. Moreover, these ministers of vengeance received (as it is said) as a reward for their labors, a residence in this city, now purified by the slaughter of its perfidious inhabitants. These matters having been related, because they appeared memorable at the time, let us return to the course of our narrative.

Chapter 12: The reconciliation of the kings of France and England <to index>

Henry II, king of England, after returning from the expedition to Toulouse, remained in quiet but a short time; for, in the following year, which was the eighth of his reign, the quarrel between him and the king of France, which had originated during the expedition in question, from some aggravated causes, now ripened into maturity, and burst forth; so that, by violent commotions, the peace of their subject provinces was disturbed. At length, vast armies were collected by each party, and camps formed on their frontiers. Each prince remained stationary with his forces, as it appeared dangerous to advance and disgraceful to retreat, thinking it preferable, from the dubious chances of war, to act on the defensive, rather than become the assailant. Men of peaceable dispositions, therefore, embracing this pause as an opportunity for laying the basis of peace, piously and carefully busied themselves, lest the pride and ambition of two individuals should effect the destruction of innocent nations. And since, as it is said, peace is generally best concerted under the buckler, these princes were easily persuaded to do that which at first they would not even deign to hear; they were, consequently, reconciled, and their subjects returned home. In the same year, Theobald, archbishop of Canterbury died; to whom Thomas, the king's chancellor succeeded in the following year.

Chapter 13: Of the entrance of heretics into England, and their extermination <to index>

[1] At this time certain heretics came into England, of that sect, as it is believed, commonly called Publicans. These, spread the poison of their heresy, which had originated from an unknown author in Gascony, in many regions; for such numbers are said to be infected with this pestilence throughout the extensive provinces of France, Spain, Italy, and Germany that we may exclaim, in the words of the prophet, "Lord, how are they increased that trouble met " [Psalm 3:1] Finally, when the bishops and princes act towards them too leniently, these subtle foxes issue from their hiding-places and, under the mask of piety, by leading astray the simple, lay waste the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts both grievously and widely; but when the zeal of the faithful is kindled against them by the inspiration of God, they lie concealed in their dens, and become less noxious; but still they cease not to annoy, by disseminating their secret poison. Their victims are rustics, and the half-witted, who are, consequently, slow to understand their fallacies; but, when once tinctured with this heresy, they remain inflexible to all discipline, whence it rarely happens that they are reconverted to the truth, when they are dragged from their lurking-places.

[2] From such, and similar heretical pests, England had always been free, though so many sprang up in other parts of the world. This island, however, when it was denominated Britain from its inhabitants the Britons, gave birth to Pelagius, the future heresiarch in the East, and in process of time admitted his error to her own shores; to annihilate which the pious foresight of the Gallican church again and again sent forth the blessed Germanus; but when this island, after the expulsion of the Britons, became possessed by the Angles, and was no longer denominated Britain, but England, no poisonous heresy ever issued from it, nor, till the time of king Henry II did heresy infuse itself from other countries for the purpose of propagation and extension. Then, also, by the assistance of God, such means were adopted to counteract the poison, that it must tremble at the idea of again entering the island.

[3] There were about thirty men and women who concealed their error and came hither, for the purpose of disseminating their heresy, under the conduct of one Gerard, to whom all looked up as teacher and chief, for he alone had any tincture of learning; the others, Germans by birth and language, were both illiterate and silly, as well as uncouth and rude. After a short residence in England they added to their party only one weak woman, who was overcome by their poisonous insinuations, and bewitched (as it is said) by certain sorceries. Indeed. they could not remain long concealed, for certain persons having carefully examined them, they being of a foreign sect, they were discovered, seized, and confined in public prisons. The king. however, being unwilling, to punish them without examination, commanded a council of the bishops to be assembled at Oxford. Here, when they were solemnly interrogated concerning their faith, the man who appeared the best informed undertaking the cause, and speaking for all, replied that they were Christians, and highly venerated apostolical doctrine. Being questioned singly concerning the articles of the holy faith, they answered rightly concerning the substance of the doctrines of the heavenly Physician, but perversely concerning those remedies -- that is, the holy sacraments, whereby He deigns to heal human infirmity; they rejected holy baptism, the Eucharist, and matrimony; and, with impious daring, derogated from the catholic unity, which admits of these divine assistances.

[4] When the were pressed by texts taken from the holy Scriptures, they said they believed as they had been taught, but were unwilling to dispute about their faith. When admonished to repent and become united to the body of the Church, they despised all wholesome counsel. They laughed at the threats kindly held out to induce them to become wise through fear, misapplying the divine expression, "Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness sake; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." [Matt. 5:10] The bishops, therefore, guarding against the further dissemination of heresy, delivered them, as convicted heretics, to the catholic prince to be subjected to corporeal discipline. He commanded the mark of heretical ignominy to be branded on their foreheads, and that they should be whipped in the presence of the people and expelled from the city, and strictly inhibited any one to presume to entertain or supply them with any comfort whatever. Their sentence being proclaimed, they were conducted to their just punishment rejoicing, their leader preceding with hasty step, and singing, "Blessed shall ye be when men shall hate you." To such a degree did the seducing spirit pervert the minds of those he had deceived. The woman whom they had led astray in England, having departed from them for fear of punishment, confessed her error, and was recovered to the Church. Moreover this vile assemblage, with branded foreheads, was subjected to just severity, and he who had the supremacy over them underwent the stigma of a double brand, on his forehead and his chin, to designate his authority. Their garments being torn down to their waists, they were publicly scourged; and while the lash yet resounded, they were expelled from the city, and miserably perished from the inclemency of the weather, for it was winter, while no person showed them the smallest pity. The pious severity of this discipline not only cleansed the kingdom of England from that pest which had crept into it, but also prevented its future intrusion, by the terror which it struck into heretics.

Chapter 14: Of the Council of Tours, celebrated by pope Alexander <to index>

At this time Alexander, the Roman pontiff, came, by sea from Apulia into France; for, although as it has been already said, the whole western world, as well as the states of Germany, is subject to his power in matters pertaining to God, yet from the adherents of Octavian besetting the passes, and not only spoiling of their effects, but even imprisoning the persons of all, those whom they accidentally met either going to or returning from him, any access to the pope became extremely difficult. Being thus unable to discharge his high functions as he wished, and as was becoming and to extend the arm of apostolical power to its proper length, he entrusted himself to the sea, and proceeding, at imminent peril, to the western provinces, he was met by the bishops and princes of the districts of the Gallican church, and gratified the anxious desires of numbers by his arrival. The noble kings of France and England also honored him with a solemn meeting, as became their royal magnificence, and cheerfully paid obeisance to the illustrious exile. Assisted, therefore, by the favor of these princes, he summoned the pastors of the churches, and celebrated, with much pomp, a general general council at Tours; on the octaves of Pentecost [19th May], in the year of our Lord's Incarnation, one thousand one hundred and sixty-three, the decrees of which council I have deemed it proper to insert in my narrative.

Chapter 15: Of the canons of the Council of Tours <to index>

CANON I
Whereas a certain heinous custom has obtained a footing in certain places, contrary to the institutions of the holy fathers, that priests should be appointed to the rule of churches by a yearly stipend: this we inhibit by every possible mode, because so long as the priesthood is exercised under this venal recompense, no consideration is had to the reward of eternal retribution.

CANON II
Covetousness is not adequately branded with ignominy, among the people at large, if it be not avoided in every respect by those who are in holy orders, and more especially such as, despising the world, profess the monastic name and rule. Therefore, we prohibit any money being required from such as are willing to enter the monastic life: neither shall any priories nor any chaplaincies of monks or canons be sold for an annual rent; neither shall any payment be demanded from the person to whom such authority is permitted for the exercise of it. The authority of the holy fathers plainly declares such matters to be simony. Whosoever, therefore, shall presume to attempt this in future, let him be certain of having his portion with Simon. For burial also, and the recovery of the chrism or holy unction, let no pecuniary demand be made, nor any one defend his guilt under pretext of custom, because length of time does not diminish sins, but increases them.

CANON III
Whereas, in certain bishoprics, deans or archpriests are appointed, at an annual stipend, to represent bishops or archdeacons, and to dispatch ecclesiastical causes, which certainly redounds to the detriment of priests and the subversion of justice; we strictly inhibit this practice in future. If any one commit this offence, let him be expelled from the clergy. The bishop, also, who suffers this within his diocese and permits ecclesiastical judgment to be perverted by his own connivance, shall be punished by canonical censure.

CANON IV
It appears highly disgraceful that the smaller prebends of the clerks should be divided, while the larger benefices of the church remain entire. Therefore, that the church may possess unbroken unity, as well in its great as its smallest members, we prohibit the division of prebends or the exchange of dignities.

CANON V
Many of the clergy, and (with grief speak it) of those also who have relinquished the world by profession, by vows, and by habit, while abhorring common usury as more manifestly damnable, yet, by loan of money to the necessitous, take their possessions into pledge, and take the current profits beyond their share agreed on; therefore it is decreed, by the authority of this general council, that none of the clergy from this time shall presume to practice this or any other kind of usury. And if any one hitherto has received from the loan of money any person's possessions in pledge, under the pretext, if he has already received his share, let him restore possession absolutely to the debtor, after deducting expenses from the profits. If he be deficient, on receipt of such deficiency, let the possession revert freely to its owner. But if, after these constitutions, any of the clergy shall persist in the accursed lucre of usury, he shall bring his ecclesiastical office into jeopardy, unless, indeed, the benefice belong to the church, and this seemed to him a mode of rescuing it out of the hands of the laity.

CANON VI
In the district of Toulouse a damnable heresy has lately arisen, which, after the nature of a canker, gradually diffusing itself over the neighboring places, hath already infected vast numbers throughout Gascony and other provinces; and while, serpent-like, it is concealed beneath its folds, in proportion to its unseen advances, so it injures more grievously the Lord's vineyard in the persons of the simple-hearted. Wherefore, we command the bishops, and all God's priests resident in those parts, to be vigilant, and to inhibit, under pain of anathema, all persons from sheltering in their territories or presuming to protect the known followers of such heresy. Neither shall they have intercourse with such either in selling or buying, in order that the consolations of society being denied them, they may be compelled to renounce the errors of their ways. And whosoever shall attempt to contravene this injunction, shall be included under their curse as a partaker of their crime. But if they shall be discovered by catholic princes, let them be taken into custody and incur the forfeiture of all their goods. And since they frequently assemble from diverse parts at one hiding-place, and having no cause for dwelling together, but an agreement in error induces them to dwell in the same house, let all such receptacles be diligently sought out, and, when discovered, forbidden under canonical censure.

CANON VII
Although it appears excessively heinous, and worthy of divine vengeance, that certain of the laity should usurp in ecclesiastical matters that which belongs to the clergy, yet it creates greater alarm and grief that the origin of this error is said oftentimes to be found in the clergy themselves. For some of our brethren, our fellow bishops and prelates, grant to the laity the tithes and disposal of churches, and drive into the bye-paths of death such as ought to be recalled by their preaching to the path of life; of whom the Lord says by the prophet, " They eat up the sin of my people, and they set their heart on their iniquity." [Hosea 4:8] Wherefore, we command that whosoever shall hereafter grant either church or tithe to any layman shall be severed from his place like a tree which cumbers the ground unprofitably; and, till he shall amend, shall lie prostrate in the ruin of his downfall.

CANON VIII
The envy of our ancient enemy does not so greatly strive to undermine the weak members of our church, but that he reaches out his hand against its desirable ones, and endeavors to supplant all its elect; for as the Scripture says, his food is choice. He supposes that he is working the downfall of many, whenever he succeeds in withdrawing from the church any valuable member by his craftiness. Hence it arises that, after his usual custom, transforming himself into an angel of light, under the mask of prescribing for the bodies of the sick brethren, and of more carefully performing ecclesiastical business, he leads certain professed monks from their cloister to study laws and make up medical prescriptions.

Wherefore, lest under this pretence godly men be again entangled in worldly affairs, and themselves become internally losers, whilst they suppose they are assisting others in outward matters, by the consent of the present council, we ordain, that no one whatever, after making his religious vow or profession in any sacred place, shall be permitted to go out to study physic or civil laws; but if he shall depart, and not return to his cloister within the space of two months, let him be shunned by all as an excommunicated person, and in no case heard, if he wish to plead any cause. But if he return, let him always be the lowest of the brotherhood in the choir, in the chapter, at table, and elsewhere; and, unless perchance the mercy of the apostolical see shall intervene, let him lose hope of all promotion.

Let such bishops, abbots, and priors as connive at such enormity, without correcting it, be despoiled of their honors, and driven from the threshold of the church. An imperial sanction restrains the vexation and audacity of such as go to law wantonly, by condemning them in expenses and other sufficient remedy. Since, therefore, this is admitted to be consistent with holy canons, we command that, for the future, the party worsted in pecuniary causes shall be condemned in lawful expenses, to be paid to the victorious party, unless sentence be given against a person absent.

Chapter 16: Of the king's displeasure against the venerable Thomas, archbishop of Canterbury <to index>

[1] Before the year had expired in which the council was held, the displeasure of the king of England waxed hot against the venerable Thomas, archbishop of Canterbury, the unhappy source of the numerous and excessive evils which ensued. This Thomas was born in London; he was a man of acute understanding and competent eloquence as well as elegant in person and manner; he was second to none in dispatch of business; he had been conspicuous in the service of Theobald, archbishop of Canterbury, and had received from him the archdeaconry of Canterbury, on the promotion of Roger to the see of York. But when Henry the second, on the demise of Stephen, (as it has been before observed,) succeeded to his hereditary kingdom, he was unwilling to be without the services of a man fit to stand before kings, so he made Becket his royal chancellor. Being elevated to this office, he executed it with such reputation, and gained at the same time such high regard and distinctions from his prince, that he seemed to share the government with him.

[2] Some years had elapsed in his secular services, when, behold, he was enlisted in ecclesiastical warfare and obtained, through the royal pleasure, the see of Canterbury. After a time, considering piously and sagaciously the responsibility of so high an honor, he on a sudden exhibited such a change in his habit and manners, that some observed, "This is the finger of God," [Exodus 8:19] and others, " This is a change effected by the hand of the Most High." [Psalm 76:11 Vulg] In the second year after his advancement, he was present at the council of Tours, where, as it is reported, being pricked by remorse of conscience, he privately resigned into the pope’s hands the primacy, having, as it were, received it not regularly and canonically, but by the agency and hand of the king. The pope, approving of the transaction, restored to him his pastoral office by virtue of his ecclesiastical power, and healed the wounded conscience of the scrupulous prelate.

[3] The bishops having returned from the council to their several sees, the royal and the priestly powers began to be at variance in England, and no small commotion arose concerning the prerogatives of the clergy. For it was intimated by the judges to the king, who was diligently occupied in the concerns of the state, and who had ordered all malefactors to be indiscriminately banished, that many crimes against public order, such as thefts, rapines, and murders, were repeatedly committed by the clergy, to whom the correction of lay jurisdiction could not be extended. Finally, it was declared, in his presence, that during his reign more than a hundred murders had been committed by the clergy in England alone. Hereupon the king, waxing extremely indignant, enacted laws, in the heat of his passion, against ecclesiastical delinquents, wherein he gave evidence of his zeal for public justice, though his severity rather exceeded the bounds of moderation. Still however the blame and the origin of the king’s excess in this point attaches only to the prelates of our times, inasmuch as it proceeded entirely from them. For since the sacred canons enjoin that not only flagitious clerks, that is, such as are guilty of heinous crimes, but even such as are only slightly criminal, shall be degraded, and the church of England contains many thousands such, like the chaff innumerable amid the few grains of corn -- what number of the clergy have there been deprived of this office during many years in England? The bishops however, while anxious rather to maintain the liberties or rights of the clergy than to correct ant root out their vices, suppose that they do God service, and the church also, by defending against established law those abandoned clergy, whom they either refuse or neglect to restrain, as their office enjoins, by the vigor of canonical censure. Hence the clergy, who, called into the inheritance of the Lord, ought to shine on earth, in their lives and conversation, like stars placed in the firmament of heaven, yet take license and liberty to do what they please with impunity; and regard neither God, whose vengeance seems to deep, nor men who are placed in authority; more especially as episcopal vigilance is relaxed with respect to them, while the prerogative of holy orders exempts them from all secular jurisdiction.

[4] Thus, when the king had enacted certain statutes against the chaff of the holy order, that is to say, for the examination or punishment of the guilty clergy, in which perhaps (as it has been said) he exceeded the bounds of moderation, he conceived that they would be fully ratified could they be confirmed by the consent of the bishops. Therefore, having assembled the prelates, to procure their sanction by any means whatsoever, he so allured the whole of them with the exception of one, by blandishments, or terrified them with alarms, that they deemed it necessary to yield to and obey the royal pleasure, and set their seals to the enactment of these new constitutions -- I say, with the exception of one, for the archbishop of Canterbury was alone inflexible, and remained unshaken by every assault. Upon this, the king’s fury became more vehemently incensed against him, in proportion as he appeared more indebted to the royal munificence for what had been given and received. Hence the king became hostile to him, and, seeking every occasion to attack him, demanded an account of everything he had formerly done in the kingdom, in his office as chancellor. The archbishop, with intrepid freedom, replied, that having discharged his secular duties, he had been completely transferred to the church by the prince in whose service he had been engaged, and that matters of bygone date ought not to be urged against him, but this more for a pretext than for truth. While the causes of the king’s anger became daily more aggravated, on the day when the archbishop was to answer at large to the allegations against him, he ordered the solemn office of St. Stephen -- "The princes sat and spake against me, and sinners persecuted me" -- to be duly chanted before him at the celebration of mass. Afterwards he entered the court, carrying in his hand the silver cross, which was usually borne before him; and when some of the bishops present wished to undertake the office of carrying the cross before their metropolitan, he refused, and, although entreated, he would not allow any other to bear the cross in that public assembly. The king, being already enraged beyond measure at these circumstances, had an additional incentive to his fury; for in the following night the archbishop secretly escaped, and passed beyond the sea, where, being honorably received by the king, the nobility, and the bishops of France, he took up his residence for a time.

[5] The king of England, consequently, was furiously enraged at his absence; and, giving way to unbridled passion more than became a king, took an unbecoming and pitiful kind of revenge, by banishing all the archbishop’s relations out of England. Now, though many persons indeed generally, led by fond affection, but little prudence, do approve everything done by those whom they love and commend, yet I by no means deem that these actions of this venerable man are worthy of commendation, however they might proceed from laudable zeal, - because no benefit would result therefrom, and they only the more inflamed the royal anger, and melancholy results are known to have ensued from them, - any more than I commend the actions of the blessed prince of the apostles, now at the summit of apostolical eminence, in compelling the Gentiles to Judaise after his own example, in which the teacher of the Gentiles declares him to have been reprehensible, though it is manifest that he did it from motives of laudable piety.

Chapter 17: Of the death of Octavian, and the return of pope Alexander into Italy <to index>

[1] While pope Alexander continued to reside in France after the council of Tours, Octavian (otherwise called the Victor), subdued by fate, lost the victory of the contest he had entered into, and failed to realize the fallacious presage of the name which his adherents had bestowed upon him as a propitious omen. But now John de St. Martin, aided by imperial favor, made Guido of Cremona his colleague, in place of the vanquished Victor, lest they should appear to have lost the victory. Alexander, however, after some years continuance in France, proceeding on his return home, waited at Montpellier for a convenient passage into Apulia. But the emperor, still restless, endeavored to tamper, as it is said, by private letters and the most extensive promises, with William, lord of that city, to betray his guest; but this illustrious man, honoring his illustrious visitor with becoming respect, proved himself to be of unshaken integrity; and, when the cardinals (in company with a number of valiant men, journeying to Jerusalem), had embarked on board a vessel belonging to the Hospitallers at Jerusalem, and having cast anchor out at sea, awaiting the arrival of the sovereign pontiff, it happened that the galley was attacked by a fleet of pirates on their passage, and, as the pontiff was approaching from his vessel to embark on board the galley, he observed the pirates round the ship, and therefore rowed back to the port of Maguelonne. Although the courageous crew of the galley bravely resisted the pirates, and beat them off with disgrace and with loss, yet they deemed it improper to wait, at their own peril, any longer for the pope; and setting sail, after a prosperous voyage they reached the coast of Sicily.

[2] Some days afterwards, the pope himself also embarked in another vessel, and passed over into Apulia, with a favoring gale, and without obstruction. He was respectfully received by the king of Sicily and his subjects; and, after a time, he also found the Roman citizens, with the nobility, devoted and submissive to his command. Still, access to him from the transalpine countries was difficult, as the adherents of the emperor, or of the pretended pope, narrowly watched all passengers. Moreover, the emperor, that disturber of ecclesiastical tranquillity, did not long rejoice in the peace and unbroken possession of his dominions: for, treating haughtily the Lombards, who could not endure the German yoke, they recovered their ancient liberty; and Milan being restored, by its own citizens flocking thither from their dispersion, with the assistance of its confederate states, they built also the city of Alexandria (so called from the name of the sovereign pope, in their devotion to whom they gloried), in a place well calculated to receive the first attacks of the Germans on their entrance into Italy. Immediately after its erection, the emperor, having laid siege to the place, was unable to subdue it; and, retreating with his army, harassed to no purpose, he augmented the confidence of the enemy against him.

Chapter 18: Of the second expedition into Wales, and the conquest of Brittany <to index>

[1] During the year in which pope Alexander (as it has been said) returned into Apulia from France, a fresh quarrel arose between the king of England and and the Welsh, which deeply engaged both parties; for when this untamed and ferocious people, petulantly breaking their treaty, and exposing to danger the hostages they had given in pledge of their covenant, disturbed the neighboring provinces of England, the king, collecting an immense army, both from his kingdom and foreign provinces, entered their territories with a mighty host. He was unable, indeed, to penetrate far, on account of the inextricable difficulties of their country, but, however, curbing their incursions, he reduced them to such straits that they were compelled to treat of peace. The king, having led back his army from Wales, was called off to other concerns; and fondly looking to the future advancement and prosperity of his sons, went over the sea; for, having begotten four sons of Eleanor, formerly queen of France, he purposed leaving to Henry, his eldest-born, the kingdom of England, duchy of Normandy, and the county of Anjou, while Richard was to preside over Aquitaine, and Geoffrey over Brittany; John, his fourth and youngest son, he denominated "Lackland." Having three daughters, also, by the same queen, he betrothed one to the king of Spain, another to the duke of Saxony, and he purposed to affiance the third, not yet marriageable, to the then king of Sicily.

[2] As he meditated the appointment of his son to the sovereignty of Brittany, he was now gradually preparing the means for the accomplishment of this design, as he bad not yet obtained its subjugation. He had, however, already prepared two modes of access to this province, that is to say, the city of Nantes and the castle of Dol. It happened also that Conan, earl of Richmond, who was the sovereign of the greater part of Brittany, died, leaving as his heir an only daughter, by the sister of the king of Scotland. Uniting this unmarriageable girl to his stripling son, he reduced her whole right under his own control. But there were in Brittany certain noblemen, of such wealth and power, that they would never deign to submit to the dominion of any person. From the hostile contention of these people during many years past, through lust of dominion, and impatience of subjection, the district formerly celebrated became so wasted and impoverished, that vast deserts were beheld where fruitful fields had formerly flourished; and, when the weaker were oppressed by the powerful, entreating the succour of the king of England, they spontaneously submitted to his control. By readily and generously granting aid to these weaker persons, he was enabled to subdue the stronger; who, up to that time, from the greatness of their resources, and the inaccessible places in which they lived, were deemed impregnable. Thus, in a short time he succeeded in obtaining possession of the whole of Brittany; and, having expelled or subdued its disturbers, he so regulated and tranquilized it throughout all its borders that its inhabitants dwelling in peace, the desert by degrees resumed its fruitfulness.

Chapter 19: Of the decease of Malcolm, the most pious king of the Scots <to index>

[1] About this period, Malcolm, the most Christian king of the Scots, of whom we have made becoming mention in the preceding book, putting off mortality at the call of Christ, did not lose his kingdom when associated with angels, but merely changed it. Celestial angels snatched away this man of angelical purity from among men, for in truth he was an earthly angel, of whom the world was not worthy. He was a personage of singular gravity even in his early years; and, being of transcendent and unexampled purity, amid the pride and luxury of empire, was hurried away from his virgin body to the Lamb, the son of the Virgin, about to follow Him whithersoever He went. He was snatched away by a premature death, indeed, lest the malice of the times should prevent his surpassing innocence and purity, when so many opportunities and incentives were ready to impel the youthful monarch to a different course of life; but, as his noble soul, amid its better qualities, had contracted some trifling blemishes from regal luxury, which, nevertheless, he endured rather than delighted in, the visitation of heaven, gentle, not violent, corrected him parentally, and purified him from vice. For some years previous to his death he so languished and, in addition to other complaints, suffered such excruciating pains in his extremities (that is, the head and feet) that it might seem any penitent sinner would be perfectly purified by such correction. Hence, it is manifest that this child of God experienced the severity of parental castigation, not merely for purgation, but also for the probation and increase to his virtues, or for an augmentation to his merits. Thus, then, he slept with his fathers, and was buried at a place called Dunfermline, in Scotland, and celebrated for the burial of its kings.

[2] His brother William succeeded him; he was a man better calculated, as it seemed, for the service of the world, but not more fortunate in the end than his brother in the management of his kingdom. He desired not merely to use, but to enjoy that world which his brother wished to use sparingly, and consequently piously, and in a praiseworthy manner. Though he endeavored far to transcend his brother's limits in temporal dignity, yet he was unable to equal his glory even in earthly felicity. For a long time he deferred resorting to the benefit of marriage -- to which his brother preferred that highest excellence, pious and holy virginity -- either for issue, or as a remedy for incontinence. At length, however, by the admonition of more wholesome counsel, he married the daughter of a foreign prince, and afterwards not only lived more correctly but also reigned more happily.

Chapter 20: Of the life and death of the venerable hermit Godric <to index>

[1] Nearly about this time, Godric, the venerable hermit of Finchal (a solitary place so called, not far from the city of Durham on the river Wear), ripe in years and virtues, rested in the Lord. In him might be clearly seen the holy and high pleasure of God, by His choosing the mean and contemptible things of this world to the confusion of the noble and the great. For, when this man was a rustic, and unlearned, and knew nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified, in such sort as He is manifested to the ignorant and unlettered ones in the first rudiments of the faith; on the approach of youth he began to be inflamed with the Spirit, and to imbibe throughout his whole frame the holy fire which God sent upon earth. Most devoutly embracing celibacy (which he had accidentally heard was grateful to God, and of transcendent merit), this most unsophisticated man endeavored to preserve a decent mean according with gravity in meat and drink, in word and in gesture. He was quick to hear, but slow to speak and extremely sparing of his discourse. He had learned to weep with those who weep, but knew not how to laugh with those that laughed, or to joke with those that joked.

[2] In his youth he visited the sepulchre of our Lord, walking there barefoot, and in extreme poverty; and on his return home, he anxiously sought out a fitting place where he might serve God. He was admonished in a dream (as they say) to search for a place called Finchal, and (God willing) to reside there. Finding the place after a diligent search, there he dwelt, at first with a poor sister and on her decease alone for a considerable time. The austerity of his life is represented as almost beyond human endurance. The place in question is woody, but it has a small level spot; in bringing this into cultivation by digging, he derived, some way or other, from it annual produce, which became his support, and was also able to give assistance to strangers. Being recommended to the church of Durham, by the virtue of his most unspotted life, he so merited the concern of the holy brotherhood around him, that the senior monk was deputed to visit him frequently, as well for the instruction of his rustic simplicity, as to comfort him on certain days, by the participation of the holy sacrament.

[3] For a considerable time the ancient enemy of mankind tried his artifices to circumvent him; but when he saw his stratagems prevail but little, he endeavored to deceive his simplicity by illusions. This man of God, however, both cautiously avoided his hostile snares and constantly despised and derided his sorceries. St. John the Baptist, whom he more especially loved, frequently visited, informed, and strengthened him.

[4] In this manner he lived, even to decrepit old age, and was bedridden some few years before his death, by the failure of his aged limbs; and for many days supported the scanty remains of life in his decaying body by a moderate draught of milk. At this time, I had the good fortune to see and speak to him, as he was constantly lying down in his own oratory near the holy altar, and then he appeared, in a measure, almost dead in all parts of his body, yet he spoke with ease, perpetually repeating those words, so familiar to his lips, "Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." In his countenance, also, there was seen a surprising dignity, and an unusual grace. Thus, then, he died, old and full of days, and his body now occupies that same space where, when alive, he was accustomed to kneel when praying, or to lie when sick.

Chapter 21: Of Ketell, and of the grace divinely imparted to him <to index>

[1] There was also in our province of York, at a village called Farneham, another venerable man, named Ketell. He was a rustic indeed; but, by virtue of his innocence and purity, he obtained a singular favor from the Lord. Of this man many very remarkable things were reported to me by men of veracity, a few of which I shall relate.

[2] When he was quite a youth, as he was one day returning home on horseback from the fields, his horse, as if stumbling, fell to the ground, and dismounted him. On getting up he saw, as it were, two little Ethiopians sitting in the road, and laughing together. He understood that they were devils, who were not permitted to injure him any further; and he rejoiced that they had hurt him so little. From that day he received this gift from God: ever after he could see demons, and however anxious they might be to remain undiscovered, they could not elude his knowledge. He observed that they would rove about to afflict men, even in a slight manner, and that they rejoiced at having produced the most trifling injury. At length, sensible of the grace imparted to him, he became devoted to God, and frequently retired into solitude for the sake of prayer. He abstained from eating of flesh, and from the use of linen; he frequented the church at every vacant interval, being the first to enter and the last to depart; he regarded not matrimony, but embraced celibacy; and he continued until the end of his life in the service of one Adam, a clerk at Farneham. He concealed the secret of the gift imparted to him, nor would he divulge his visions, unless, perchance, to the priest as a secret of confession, or to his master, or to any other discreet person making strict inquiry.

[3] Once, about sunset, as he stood before his master's door, he saw ten devils enter the village; one of whom was larger and appeared to be the master over the others. While they were standing on the same spot and conferring together, as if secretly deliberating on their plans, the leader of them dispatched them in pairs among the houses, whilst he himself, with another, was desirous of entering the door where Ketell was standing; but he said, "In the name of Christ, I forbid your entrance into this house, and also your abode in this village -- call back your companions, and begone immediately." Unable to endure the adjuration of that holy name, they reluctantly obeyed, and lamented that their machinations were perceived by this man.

[4] Once also he saw some devils passing by with a vehicle closely covered up, and he heard the lamentations of persons shut up within it, while the devils were laughing. As he was accustomed to address spirits of that sort without alarm, he immediately said to them, "What means this?" To this they replied: "We are conducting to the place of punishment the sinful souls deceived and ensnared by us, and they are bewailing, while we are laughing at them. We are also anxious that you should be delivered to us, that we may rejoice with greater exultation over you too; because you are our enemy." He replied, "Begone, ye most malignant, and let your laughter be turned into sorrow."

[5] Once, however, it happened that he was nearly experiencing the malice of these enemies. He had returned home from his rustic labor, and being heavy with sleep, had neglected to fortify himself with the holy symbol. While sleeping alone in his customary place, two devils, fierce and terrible beyond measure, stood before him, and laying hold of him when roused up, said, "So ho, Ketell, you have fallen into our hands; you shall experience the resentment of those whom you feared not to attack, and whose deceptions you have so often betrayed." Stupefied at this sudden mischance, he was anxious to invoke the name of Christ, and to cross himself, but all his endeavors were vain. His hands and tongue were tied, lest he should protect himself with the powerful defense of that holy sign and name. "Labor not in vain, Ketell," said they; "we have bound your hand and tongue, nor can anything avail you against us." While they thus appeared to triumph over him, and anticipated the mischief they meditated perpetrating against him with threatening and abusive language, behold, a dazzling youth suddenly entered, with a battle-axe in his hand, and took his station between them. The weapon, on being gently touched with his finger, emitted a mighty sound. The devils, startled at the noise, left the man over whom they had begun to triumph, and fled. The youth, whom I suppose to have been the angel of this man, then approaching, said: "Your negligence, Ketell, has nearly brought you into danger; be careful that hereafter your insidious enemies do not find you off your guard."

[6] This same Ketell used to say, that some demons were large, robust, and crafty, and, when permitted by a superior power, extremely hurtful; others were small and contemptible, impotent in strength and dull in understanding; but all, according to their measure, mischievous to men and highly pleased at injuring him, if even only slightly. Again, he said that he had seen some of this sort sitting by the wayside, throwing stumbling-blocks in the way of passengers, and malignantly laughing, if they could make either man or beast trip; but more especially if the man, attributing it to his horse, vented big rage against him, either with curses or with spurs. Moreover, if the man, only trivially discomposed, uttered the name of his Savior, as is the laudable custom of some persons, the devils immediately retreated sorrowfully and confounded. Again, he mentioned that he once entered a public house, and saw devils of this description in the likeness of apes, sitting on the shoulders of all who were drinking, voiding their spittle into the cups, and deriding the stupidity of these men with exulting gesture and ludicrous motions. And when, amid their compotations, prayers were said, as is customary, and the name of the Savior resounded, they leaped off affrighted, being unable to endure the virtue of that sacred name; but when the rustics resumed their seats to drink again, the devils re-entered and took their former situation with their accustomed gesticulations. At length this man, endowed from on high with such a singular gift, in perceiving the acts and fallacies of wicked spirits, having passed his life with great innocence and purity, fell asleep in the Lord, and was buried at Farneham.

Chapter 22: Of the long-continued vacancy in the church of Lincoln <to index>

In the fourteenth year of the reign of king Henry II, which was the eleven hundred and sixty-seventh from the delivery of the Virgin, Robert, bishop of Lincoln, the successor of Alexander, died; and the revenues of the bishopric being brought into the exchequer, the church was bereft of pastoral care for nearly seventeen years, that is, from the fourteenth year of this king's reign until his thirtieth; so that it began to be believed that no one would hereafter act as bishop there; and more especially on the authority of a certain lay-brother at Thame, who firmly asserted that, on the demise of the prelate aforesaid, there would be no future bishop of Lincoln. For this man (as it is said) appeared gifted with the spirit of prophecy, as well on account of the reputation of his holy life, as from the fulfillment of several similar predictions; in consequence of which, many people believed that he would not be deceived in this transaction. After a short time, this prophecy seemed doubtful, Geoffrey, the king's natural son, out of compliment to him, being elected to the bishopric aforesaid; but when, to give greater indulgence to luxury, he prostrated the period of canonical consecration (being satisfied with the ample revenues of the see, and ignorant of feeding the Lord's flock though skilled in shearing them), and occupied the church of Lincoln a long time, under the title of bishop-elect -- the words of the man above mentioned began to revive in credit in the minds of numbers. After some interval, this more forcibly struck many people, when the king, repenting at having, through personal affection, so highly promoted a delicate young man, and one by no means calculated for so honorable an eminence (who was wisely induced to give up the right and title of bishop elect), once more annexed the bishopric to the exchequer. However, the fallacy both of the prediction and persuasion was manifested in process of time, as will be mentioned in its proper place.

Chapter 23: Of the two expeditions into Egypt of Amalric, king of Jerusalem <to index>

[1] About the same time, Amalric, king of Jerusalem, invited by the king of Babylon, led a Christian expedition into Egypt, now generally called the land of Babylon; not, indeed, that very ancient Babylon of which the holy Scriptures speak (which was first founded, after the deluge, in the land of the Chaldeans, by Ninus and Semiramis, and held the sovereignty of the East for more than one thousand years, and was long since destroyed, and now is said to be desolate), but a certain Egyptian city, which (as we read) Cambyses, king of the Persians, on the subjugation of Egypt, founded and called Babylon.

[2] The cause of this expedition was as follows. The Turks, a crafty and warlike people, affecting the empire of Egypt under king Noradin -- because the Egyptians appeared conspicuous for their opulence, but less distinguished in arms -- under the conduct of Saraco, the chief commander of this prince (a man very experienced in military affairs), undertaking a secret march through the furthest boundary of the Christians, invaded the Egyptian provinces, and on the speedy capture or surrender of some cities, became terrible and insupportable to the king of Babylon. When the Saracens perceived that they were not to be restrained or repelled by Egyptian valor, he implored the assistance of a Christian king, promising great attachment for the future, together with a fixed and annual tribute. Immediately after the high-spirited Amalric had set his kingdom and deputed a portion of his army to receive the attack of Noradin -- if perchance in the meantime he should hazard an irruption -- he entered Egypt with the remaining part of the Christian army, and, forming a junction with the forces of the king of Babylon, besieged Saraco, with the Turks, in a certain city, and at length expelled them, straitened and vanquished, from the borders of Egypt, allowing them a free passage home through the Christian territory. While these matters were transacting in Egypt, Noradin could not rest; yet, pretending quiet, became still more injurious by artifice and stratagem. Finally, he seduced to his cause by bribery a certain person of our party, of renowned faith and fortitude, to whom were committed the care and custody of a city opposite to the territories of the enemy, now called Belinae, but originally Caesarea Philippi; the Turks, clandestinely admitted by this man, entering the city, put no one to death, but, expelling the Christians together with the bishop, strengthened the town with a fresh garrison. This unlucky accident, wounding the feelings of the king on his return from Egypt, obscured the glory of his triumph. Some years after, however, the troops of the Turks becoming more brave and spirited, and incited not so much by lust of dominion, as stimulated by the desire of avenging their repulse, once more, under the conduct of Saraco, penetrated into the heart of Egypt. On their approach, all the confidence of the Babylonian monarch deserted him; in consequence of which, he immediately sent ambassadors to implore with the language of entreaty the customary aid of the Christian king; who, presently arranging his affairs with more caution, and entering Egypt with considerable force of horse and foot, and joining the Egyptian army, resolved on attacking the Turks. They, craftily avoiding the decision of a battle, retreated into the deserts.

[3] While the Christians were pursuing them, the festival of Easter occurred. Pitching their camp on the celebrated river Nile, they performed the solemnities of that most sacred day with delight; and when the supply of flesh for that day's joyous festival was but scanty, a singular circumstance took place, by favor of supernal Providence; for, as we have heard from those who were present, when the Christian army, watching in the camp, had partaken of celestial food by the ministry of the priests, in reverence of that holy day, on a sudden an immense herd of wild boars and swine, rushing from the adjoining marshes, made for the camp. These valorous men then making use of their swords and spears, instead of hunting implements, slaughtered at their pleasure, not merely for, food but for amusement, giving thanks, therefore, to the Donor of so unexpected a present. Thus they had. such an abundant supply from this most grateful capture, that they loaded their beasts with food for a second and third repast from the spoils of that day.

[4] In the morning they proceeded in pursuit of their enemies; but when the infantry were fatigued, the king ordered them to halt, and he hastened onward with the cavalry. When this was discovered by the subtle commander of the adverse army, he determined on opposing and trying the event of a battle, making sure of victory, from the absence of the infantry, as he was much superior in cavalry. A very severe and bloody engagement then followed, which was continued from the seventh hour of the day till evening. Each army, equally diminished in spirit and in number, retired to their camps, separated only by a river, the fords over which the Christians had carefully secured for passing. But at night the king, summoning the commanders, bewailed his losses, attributing the disaster to the absence of the greater part of his forces, and acquainted them that, as they were harassed and wounded, the battle could not be renewed in the morning, but that they must return in silence to their associates. This meeting the approbation of all, at midnight they quietly retreated by the route they had come. The like also was done by the enemy, with equal alarm and caution. The Turks, indeed, betook themselves to Alexandria; but the Christian cavalry was rejoined by their infantry. The king, moreover, recruiting his army, laid siege to Alexandria with increased forces; and obtaining possession of it by surrender, after experiencing many difficulties, he once more expelled the Turks from the kingdom of Babylon, and returned home with great glory.

Chapter 24: Of the dissension and reconciliation of the king of France and England <to index>

[1] In the sixteenth year of the reign of Henry the second, this prince and the king of France, having been a short time at variance, became again reconciled through the intervention of persons peaceably disposed. The cause of their differences was this:

[2] While king Stephen was formerly occupied with the commotions in England, the earl of Anjou had invaded and obtained possession of Normandy, with the exception of Gisors and two other castles, as it were dependent on it, which had yielded to the power of the king of France. In process of time, Henry II, king of England, son of the said earl, not brooking this diminution of his Norman dominion, saw the necessity of making use of art, rather than violence, in this affair. At length, by means of a skilful man, that is, Thomas, his chancellor, he so managed with the king of France, that his daughter -- by the daughter of the king, of Spain, who had been married to him after Eleanor -- should be betrothed to Henry his firstborn son; those fortresses being given up as her dowry, which, nevertheless, were to be kept by the Templars in sequestration, as it were, until the children, who on account of their age could not as yet contract marriage, should be able to cohabit in due time, the king of England, in the meantime, having the guardianship of them both. King Henry, however, after the expiration of some years, impatient of longer delay, celebrated a premature marriage between the children, and received the castles from the Templars. Whereupon the French king, being highly enraged and accusing him of duplicity and the Templars of treachery, they proceeded to enmity and to battle. Being taught, however, by frequent experiments, that violence could effect nothing against the king's power, and their indignation gradually subsiding, they admitted, that on certain conditions, peace should be concluded, and accordingly peace was concluded -- not a firm one, indeed, but only temporary, as afterwards appeared. Moreover, the two kings in question were never long at peace with each other; their people, on both sides, being accustomed to pay the penalty which the kings had merited by their haughtiness.

Chapter 25: Of the coronation of Henry III, and the murder of St Thomas <to index>

[1] In the year one thousand one hundred and seventy from the delivery of the Virgin, which was the seventeenth of the reign of Henry the second, the king caused his son Henry, yet a youth, to be solemnly anointed and crowned king at London, by the hands of Roger, archbishop of York. For the king not being yet appeased, the venerable Thomas, archbishop of Canterbury, was still an exile in France, though the Roman pontiff and the king of France had interested themselves extremely to bring about a reconciliation. The moment Thomas heard of this transaction, jealous for his church, he quickly informed the pope of it (by whose favor and countenance he was supported), alleging that this had taken place to the prejudice of himself and his see; and he obtained letters of severe rebuke, for the purpose of correcting equally the archbishop of York, who had performed the office in another’s province, and the bishops, who, by their presence, had sanctioned it. The king, however, continued but a short time in England after the coronation of his son, and went beyond sea; and when urged by the frequent admonitions of the pope, and the earnest entreaties of the illustrious king of France, that he would, at least, condescend to be reconciled to the dignified exile, after a seven years’ banishment, he at length yielded; and a solemn reconciliation took place between them, which was the more desired and the more grateful in proportion to the time of its protraction.

[2] While the king, therefore continued abroad, the archbishop, by royal grant and permission returned to his diocese, having in his possession, unknown to the king, letters obtained from the pope against the archbishop of York, and the other prelates who had assisted at that most unfortunate coronation; which was the means of breaking the recently concluded peace, and had become the incentive to greater rage. These letters, for the suspension of the prelates, preceded him into England; and he followed them himself, burning with zeal for justice, but God knows whether altogether according to knowledge; but it is not allowed to my insignificance, by any means, to judge hastily of the actions of so great a man. I think, nevertheless, that the blessed pope Gregory, during the slight and yet fresh reconciliation of the king would have acted with more mildness, and would have deemed it proper, (considering the time and terms of their reunion,) to have winked at things, which might have been endured without injury to the Christian faith, according to the language of the prophet, "The prudent shall keep silence at that time, for it is an evil time." [Amos 5:13] Therefore, what was done by the venerable pontiff at this juncture, I neither think worthy of commendation, nor do I presume to censure; but this I say, that, if this holy man, through rather too great a fervency of zeal, was guilty of some little excess, yet was it all purged out in the fire of that holy suffering which is known to have ensued. Therefore, although holy men are to be loved and commended by us, who are so sensible of our great inferiority, still we are not bound to love or praise them for actions, in which they either do, or have shown the weakness of their human nature; but merely, for such as we are bound implicitly to imitate. For who can say that they should be imitated in all things -- when the apostle James asserts, "that in many things we offend all?" [James 3:2.] Wherefore, they are to be applauded, not in all their actions, but with prudence and caution, that God’s prerogative may be kept inviolate, in whose praises, indeed, none can exceed, how much soever he may attempt it.

[3] The bishops, on account of the offence before mentioned (which I could wish to have remained unnoticed at the time), being suspended, at the instance of the venerable Thomas, from all episcopal functions, by the authority of the apostolic see, the king was exasperated by the complaints of some of them, and grew angry and indignant beyond measure, and losing the mastery of himself, in the heat of his exuberant passion, from the abundance of his perturbed spirit, poured forth the language of indiscretion. On which, four of the bystanders, men of noble race and renowned in arms, wrought themselves up to the commission of iniquity through zeal for their earthly master; and leaving the royal presence, and crossing the sea, with as much haste as if posting to a solemn banquet, and urged on by the fury they lad imbibed, they arrived at Canterbury on the fifth day after Christmas, where they found the venerable archbishop occupied in the celebration of that holy festival with religious joy. Proceeding to him just as he had dined, and was sitting with certain honorable personages, omitting even to salute him, and holding forth the terror of the king’s name, they commanded (rather than asked, or admonished him) forthwith to remit the suspension of the prelates who had obeyed the king’s pleasure, to whose contempt and disgrace this act redounded. On his replying that the sentence of a higher power was not to be abrogated by an inferior one, and that it was not his concern to pardon persons suspended not by himself, but by the Roman pontiff, they had recourse to violent threats. Undismayed at these words, though uttered by men raging and extremely exasperated, he spoke with singular freedom and confidence. In consequence, becoming more enraged than before, they hastily retired, and bringing their arms (for they had entered without them), they prepared themselves, with loud clamor and indignation, for the commission of a most atrocious crime.

[4] The venerable prelate was persuaded by his friends to avoid the madness of these furious savages, by retiring into the holy church. When, from his determination to brave every danger, he did not acquiesce, on the forcible and tumultuous approach of his enemies, he was at length dragged by the friendly violence of his associates to the protection of the holy church. The monks were solemnly chanting vespers to Almighty God, as he entered the sacred temple of Christ, shortly to become an evening sacrifice. The servants of Satan pursued having neither respect as Christians to his holy order, nor to the sacred place, or season; but attacking the dignified prelate as he stood in prayer before the holy altar, even during the festival of Christmas, these truly nefarious Christians most inhumanly murdered him. Having done the deed, and retiring as if triumphant, they departed with unhallowed joy. Recollecting, however, that perhaps the transaction might displease the person in whose behalf they had been so zealous, they retired to the northern parts of England, waiting until they could fully discover the disposition of their monarch towards them.

[5] The frequent miracles which ensued manifested how precious, in the sight of God, was the death of the blessed prelate, and how great the atrocity of the crime committed against him, in the circumstances of time, place, and person. Indeed, the report of such a dreadful outrage, quickly pervading every district of the western world, sullied the illustrious king of England, and so obscured his fair fame among Christian potentates, that, as it could scarcely be credited to have been perpetrated without his consent and mandate, he was assailed by the execrations of almost all, and deemed fit to be the object of general detestation. Upon hearing of this transaction of his adherents, and learning the stain cast by them upon his glory, and the almost indelible brand on his character, he was so grieved, that, it is related, for several days he tasted nothing. For, whether he should pardon those murderers or not, he was sensible that people would be inclined to think evil of him. Moreover, should he spare these nefarious wretches, he would seem to have lent either daring or authority to such a crime; but, should he punish them for what they were supposed to have done not without his command, he would, on every hand, be most flagitious. In consequence, he thought it best to pardon them; and regarding equally his own credit and their salvation, he ordered them to be presented to the holy see, to undergo a solemn penance. This was done accordingly, and they, wounded in conscience, proceeded to Rome, and by the sovereign pope were ordered, by way of penance, to go to Jerusalem, where, as it is said, they all closed their lives, signally executing the appointed measure of their atonement, but of this hereafter.

[6] Whilst almost all persons then attributed the death of this holy man to the king, and more especially the French nobles, who had been jealous of his good fortune, were instigating the apostolical see against him, as the true and undoubted author of this great enormity, the king sent representatives to Rome, to mitigate, by submissive entreaty, the displeasure which was raging against him. When they arrived at Rome, (as all men joined in execrating the king of England,) it was with difficulty that they were admitted. Constantly affirming, however, that this dreadful outrage was not committed either by the command or concurrence of their master, they, at length, obtained, that legates a latere from the pope, vested with full power, should be sent into France, who, on carefully investigating, and ascertaining the truth of the matter, should admit the king either to the purgation of his fame, or punish him, if found guilty, by ecclesiastical censure, which was done accordingly. For two cardinals being dispatched from the holy see - that is to say, the venerable Albert, who afterward presided over it, and Theodinus - they arrived in France; and a solemn meeting being summoned in the territory of the king of England, consisting of prelates and nobles, they formally undertook the purgation of this same prince; there, humbly making his appearance, and firmly protesting that what had sullied his fame had taken place without his wish or command, and that he had never been so much afflicted with any transaction before. Indeed, he did not deny that those murderers had, perhaps, taken occasion and daring to their excessive fury from some words of his too incautiously uttere