tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38083764263080705442024-03-19T15:48:02.564-07:00Historical Britain BlogMercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-24961458607213039232020-12-13T14:41:00.005-08:002020-12-13T14:41:56.299-08:00The Nobles and Gentry in Late Medieval England<p> <a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/MedievalParliament.jpg"><img alt="" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-3221" class="size-medium wp-image-3221" height="300" src="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/MedievalParliament-207x300.jpg" width="207" /></a></p><div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_3221" style="width: 217px;"><p class="wp-caption-text" id="caption-attachment-3221"><em>Medieval Parliament, Royal Collection, RCIN 1047414: Source, Wikipedia</em></p></div>
<p style="text-align: left;">As I alluded to in my previous article about <a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/?p=1580">Different Layers of Knighthood</a>,
the gentry was an evolving class in the fourteenth century that was
starting to find its own voice. There are no hard and fast distinctions
for nobility and gentry, and no legal definitions. Naturally, there are
exceptions to every convention.</p>
<p>But before we go there, it would help to define nobility, a term also
subject to interpretation. The most common definition was put forward
by K.B. McFarlane. He defined a noble as a man who was summoned to
parliament. Ideally, he would have inherited this privilege, or achieved
his title by marriage to a daughter of a noble. The nobles became peers
of the realm, a wealthy and exclusive membership that continually
decreased during the fourteenth century due mostly to extinction. Nobles
who didn’t have a title (duke, earl, etc.) were referred to as barons.
Below the baronage ranked the knights bannerets; some were given special
preference by the king and summoned to parliament through having
distinguished themselves militarily rather than by feudal tenure. By
1425 the distinction between barons and bannerets had disappeared.</p>
<p>In the house of lords, the nobles were summoned; in the house of
commons, the members were elected locally or assigned by a sheriff. This
is where the gentry comes in, also known as the ‘knightly class’. This
class was composed of three groups of landholders: knights, esquires,
and gentlemen (in that order); the term ‘gentleman’ was first documented
in 1384. By the late fourteenth century, the knight’s main focus was
less military and more administrative. He was certainly a landowner and
was “regularly involved in the judicial and financial administration of
their shires… For the magnates, they served as stewards and
councilors”.* Lineage was an important aspect of knighthood, as well as
financial worth; most held land worth between £20 and £40 <em>per annum</em>.
This is opposed to an earl, who was required minimally to possess a
revenue of £1000; lesser peers were expected to command £250 <em>per annum</em>.
“Around 1300, the ‘knightly’ or gentry class consisted of between 2,500
and 3,000 landholders, roughly half of whom were real (that is, dubbed)
knights, while the other half (generally styled esquires) were men who
for various reasons had decided not to assume actual knighthood.” *</p>
<p>As the gentry became more influential in parliament and exercised
control in local shire offices, both Richard II and Henry IV began to
retain knights more frequently so as to directly influence local
politics. Richard’s behavior was more obviously manipulative, and tended
to alienate the commons; Henry’s immediate popularity after his
coronation made it easier to appoint his own men as sheriffs and JPs,
and he often did so regardless of their experience. This created its own
set of problems, but as far as he was concerned, their loyalty was more
important than their productivity. Ironically, Henry succeeded in
stacking parliament in his favor, whereas Richard was condemned for
doing the same thing.</p>
<p><strong>FURTHER READING</strong>:<br />
* Given-Wilson, Chris, <em>THE ENGLISH NOBILITY IN THE LATE MIDDLE AGES, </em>Routledge & Kegan Paul, London, 1987</p>
<p>Given-Wilson, Chris, <em>THE KING AND THE GENTRY IN FOURTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLAND, </em>Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, Vol. 37 (1987), pp. 87-102</p>
<p>McFarlane, K.B., <em>THE NOBILITY OF LATER MEDIEVAL ENGLAND, </em>Oxford at the Clarendon Press, 1973</p>Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-75182074475410836552020-12-13T14:37:00.000-08:002020-12-13T14:37:26.591-08:00Different Layers of Knighthood<p> </p><div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_3668" style="width: 460px;"><a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/brussels-kbr-ms.-10218-19-f.-141r-scc3a8ne-de-joutes.png"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-3668" class="wp-image-3668" height="316" src="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/brussels-kbr-ms.-10218-19-f.-141r-scc3a8ne-de-joutes-300x237.png" width="400" /></a><p class="wp-caption-text" id="caption-attachment-3668"><em>Jousts Between Knights on Horses and on Foot- Brussels, KBR, ms. 10218-19, f. 141r</em></p></div>
<p>I’ve been wanting to write this article for a long time, but the
topic is so complicated that I’ve been afraid to tackle it. Why? The
personification of a knight has changed over the centuries and most
scholars don’t go there. I don’t need to reinvent the proverbial wheel;
we all recognize the classic knight from the crusades and jousting
tournaments. My aim in this article is to fine-tune the different layers
of knights in the fourteenth and fifteenth century (which is the period
of my study) who served the king.</p>
<p>This all started for me when I kept reading about chamber knights in
Richard II’s household. Already I was baffled. What exactly was a
chamber knight? Ever since then I’ve been piecing together bits and
pieces of historical tidbits, until finally I stumbled across an article
written by my favorite Richard II historian, Chris Given-Wilson. The
title threw me: “The King and Gentry in Fourteenth-Century England”.
(There’s another conundrum: how to define Gentry. I’ll save that for
another <a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/?p=3680">article</a>.)
Thanks to his explanations here (and elsewhere), I’m ready to take the
plunge. If you know something I’ve missed, please jump in!</p>
<p>As expected, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the knight and
his relationship with the king was primarily military. According to
Given-Wilson, the <em>household knights (familia regis)</em> were kept
on retainer: “They were the core of the king’s retinue, his nucleus of
shock-troops, a force in itself, and capable of rapid expansion whenever
necessary.” Apparently this last statement was important; the number of
<em>household knights</em> was modest—somewhere around 30-70—but as
soon as military action was demanded, their numbers jumped
considerably—maybe as high as 120—then back again. These <em>household knights</em> were divided into two groups, depending on their military rank: the simple knight (also <em>knight bachelor</em>, who fought under someone else’s banner) and the banneret. The <em>knight-banneret</em>
led his own contingent of knights and esquires and was entitled to
carry a square banner instead of the triangular pennon for regular
knights. He was also paid double the wages of a simple knight.</p>
<div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_2105" style="width: 280px;"><a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/Rolandfealty.jpg"><img alt="" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-2105" class="size-medium wp-image-2105" height="300" src="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/Rolandfealty-270x300.jpg" width="270" /></a><p class="wp-caption-text" id="caption-attachment-2105"><em>Roland pledges fealty to Charlemagne. Source: Wikipedia</em></p></div>
<p>Around 1360, the knights gradually evolved into <em>chamber knights</em>
who were “trusted royal servants valued by the king for their counsel,
their administrative ability, and their domestic service as much as for
their strong right arms”. Naturally their military function was
important, but from then until the end of the century the king was—for
the most part—inactive militarily. He just didn’t need a core of
fighting knights around him (until the last three years of Richard’s
reign, his so-called tyranny). The <em>chamber knights </em>were
closely attached to the king, and sometimes served as diplomats, special
commissioners, and companions; they were given castles and manors to
administer, and sent as ambassadors to foreign powers and even to
negotiate the king’s marriages. Their numbers were much more limited:
“under Edward III, between 1366 and 1377, they number between three and
five; under Richard II and Henry IV, they number between eight and
thirteen. During the fifteenth century, they came to be known as
‘knights of the body’.”</p>
<p>From 1377 (the beginning of Richard II’s reign) through 1413 (the end
of Henry IV’s reign) most knights retained by the king primarily served
a different function outside the household and were known as the <em>king’s knights (milites regis). </em>Their
job was to exert influence and authority in their shires. They didn’t
receive robes and fees through the wardrobe like the chamber knights,
but they were granted annuities. The <em>king’s knights</em> were
sheriffs and justices of the peace, or represented their shires in
parliament. The important aspect of this is that these knights were not
separate from the gentry; for the most part, they <em>were</em> the
gentry. Many knights were also landowners and belonged to that class,
ranking just below the baronage. “The knightly class,” he tells us, “was
the nobility”. And the gentry were rapidly becoming a key element in
national politics.</p>
<p>&lt;span
style="display: inline-block; width: 0px; overflow: hidden;
line-height: 0;" data-mce-type="bookmark"
class="mce_SELRES_start"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</p>
<p>Just to complicate things further, the king also started to retain <em>king’s esquires</em>
for considerably less money than the knights (many, but not all of them
were esquires of the household). According to Given-Wilson, “If for the
moment we exclude the years 1397-99, the over-all figures for king’s
knights and king’s esquires during the two reigns are not dissimilar:
under Richard II, there were about 150 knights and 105 esquires; under
Henry IV, about 140 of each.” The esquires’ careers were similar to the
knights but with less prestige and importance, though sometimes this was
a stepping stone to becoming knights of the chamber. Nonetheless, most
esquires actually possessed the lineage to become a knight, but the fee
for their equipment and the cost of the dubbing ceremony deterred them
from taking that step. So by this time, the gap in status between
knights and squires was narrowing. By the mid-fourteenth century
esquires were even permitted to bear coats of arms. So Given-Wilson
places them squarely into the knightly class. More on this when we get
to the gentry!</p>
<p><strong>FURTHER READING</strong>:<br />
Given-Wilson, Chris, <em>THE ENGLISH NOBILITY IN THE LATE MIDDLE AGES, </em>Routledge & Kegan Paul, London, 1987</p>
<p>Given-Wilson, Chris, <em>THE KING AND THE GENTRY IN FOURTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLAND, </em>Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, Vol. 37 (1987), pp. 87-102</p>
<p>Given-Wilson, Chris, <em>THE ROYAL HOUSEHOLD AND THE KING’S AFFINITY, </em>Yale University Press, New Haven, 1986</p>Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-87863134600072120452020-12-13T14:27:00.002-08:002020-12-13T14:27:45.721-08:00The King Just Won't Stay Down<div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_3866" style="width: 460px;"><a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/FuneralOfRichard.jpg"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-3866" class="wp-image-3866" height="307" src="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/FuneralOfRichard-300x230.jpg" width="400" /></a><p class="wp-caption-text" id="caption-attachment-3866"><em>Funeral of Richard II from BL Royal 18 E II, f. 416v</em></p></div>
When Henry Bolingbroke took the crown, he was beset on all sides by
well-wishers who urged him to put Richard II to death. After all, it was
understood that disgruntled nobles and troublemakers could easily stir
up rebellions in favor of an ex-king. And it didn’t take long for that
to happen. Just three months after Henry’s coronation, the first revolt
nearly cost him his life. Richard was secretly isolated in Pontefract
Castle, a Lancaster stronghold in the north, but his
favorites—generously pardoned by Henry IV—planned to kill the king and
his family during the tournament scheduled for the Epiphany (Jan. 6) at
Windsor Castle. They would use Richard’s look-alike cleric as a
figurehead until the real Richard could be released. Only a last-minute
betrayal derailed their plans.
<p>Alas for Richard, this revolt sealed his fate. Or did it? In reality,
no one knew what happened to the ill-fated ex-king. Rumors abounded.
Finally, the first week of February, the great council attempted to
resolve the question once and for all (or were they making an oblique
suggestion?). They said, “that if he was still alive—as it is supposed
that he is—he should be secretly guarded, but that if he were dead this
should be demonstrated to the people”. Since Richard was already
secretly guarded, it seems a little strange to me. All of a sudden, by
February 17, it was announced that he was dead and on his way back to
London. Just for the record, Richard’s death was recorded on February
14, though this seems to be a convenient date lacking any confirmation.
Why? No one even knows how he died. If there were any witnesses, their
lips were sealed.</p>
<div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_3871" style="width: 244px;"><a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/DeathOfRichardWheatley.Richard.jpg"><img alt="" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-3871" class="size-medium wp-image-3871" height="300" src="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/DeathOfRichardWheatley.Richard-234x300.jpg" width="234" /></a><p class="wp-caption-text" id="caption-attachment-3871"><em>Francis Wheatley. The Death of Richard II, Memorial Art Gallery, Univ.of Rochester</em></p></div>
<p>There are at least four stories regarding this crucial event—and they
are as far apart as you can get. The first, recounted by Shakespeare,
was that King Henry sent an assassin, the otherwise unknown Sir Peter
Exton with seven henchmen. The murderers burst into Richard’s cell and
the king grabbed one of their weapons and put up a good fight, killing
four of them before Exton smashed him in the head with an axe. Most
historians disbelieve this story, especially since, upon exhumation in
the 19<sup>th</sup> century, Richard’s skull was not damaged. The second
story was that, hearing of the failure of the revolt and the death of
his friends, Richard fell into a depression and stopped eating. At the
very end, a priest convinced him that suicide was a mortal sin, and he
tried to eat; but his condition was so far gone that he was unable to
swallow and so expired. The third story is that Henry ordered him to be
starved to death and he lingered for fifteen days in agony. Needless to
say, the new king didn’t appreciate being called a regicide!</p>
<p>The fourth story is the most controversial of all. It was said that
Richard escaped before the rebellion started and made his way to
Scotland, where he was kept in honorary confinement for the next
nineteen years, first by Robert III, then after the Scottish king’s
death by the Duke of Albany. Needless to say, King Henry and the
government scorned this assertion, but the fact remains that <em>somebody</em>
played the part of the king in exile. Whether it was Richard himself or
a pretender called Thomas Ward of Trumpington, his presence in Scotland
was to harass Henry IV for the rest of his reign and into the next.
According to this story, King Richard died at Stirling Castle in
December 1419 and was buried at Black Friars in the same town.</p>
<p>In order to convince the people that Richard was truly dead, King
Henry staged an elaborate procession where the body—encased in lead
except for his face from the eyebrows to the throat—was set on a bier
and drawn on a carriage from Pontefract to London, exposed for all the
populace to see. A solemn funeral was held for two days at St. Paul’s
Cathedral which was attended by the king. Afterwards, the corpse was
taken to the royal manor of Chiltern Langley and handed over the Black
Friars, who privately buried him in the church; the only witnesses were
the Bishop of Lichfield and the Abbots of Waltham and St. Albans.
Richard’s tomb at Westminster Abbey was finished and waiting for his
royal body, but the usurper didn’t want to draw attention to such a
royal setting for a deposed king.</p>
<p>So if Richard was still alive, whose face was on the funeral bier?
Why, Maudeleyn, of course, his look-alike cleric who had been
decapitated after the rebellion. From a distance, who would have been
able to tell the difference?</p>
<div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_3872" style="width: 310px;"><a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/RichardTomb.jpg"><img alt="" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-3872" class="size-medium wp-image-3872" height="210" src="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/RichardTomb-300x210.jpg" width="300" /></a><p class="wp-caption-text" id="caption-attachment-3872"><em>Funeral effigies of Richard and Anne at Westminster Abbey</em></p></div>
<p>Almost immediately, reports of Richard’s escape proliferated
throughout England. Repercussions were quick to follow. In 1402, a
priest from Ware was drawn and quartered for spreading such rumors. Not
long afterwards, eight Franciscan friars were hanged in London for
asserting that Richard was still alive. But the most damaging to Henry
came in 1403, when Sir Henry Percy, aka Hotspur, raised a rebellion
predominately from Chester, swearing that King Richard was returning
from Scotland to lead his army. At the last minute he admitted that
Richard was dead, but apparently he was able to rely on the soldiers’
fondness for the late king—or maybe he used coercion—because they went
on to fight a horrific battle at Shrewsbury that nearly toppled Henry
from his throne. The potential for Richard’s return continued to inspire
disgruntled rebels, though eventually, the cry was that they fought for
Richard if he was still alive, or else the Earl of March if he was
dead. (March was the heir presumptive and kept in Henry’s custody for
years.)</p>
<p>When Henry IV died in 1413, the first thing his successor did was
transfer Richard at great expense from Langley to his real tomb at
Westminster Abbey, thus symbolically putting Richard to rest and
establishing Henry V as the rightful successor to the throne. Rumors
were to follow him for the next couple of years, but by then they had
lost most of their influence. The last time Richard was invoked was
during the Southampton Plot in 1415, and it was March himself who
exposed the conspiracy.</p>Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-82326632497855634952020-12-11T15:15:00.000-08:002020-12-11T15:15:20.620-08:00Who Was Thomas of Woodstock, the Duke of Gloucester?
King Edward III had eight sons—five of whom survived to adulthood.
The eldest, Edward (later known as the Black Prince) predeceased the
king in 1376; he was the father of Richard II. The next in line was
Lionel; the Mortimers were descended from him through his daughter
Philippa—and later, Edward IV. The third surviving son was John of
Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster and father of the future Henry IV. The next son
was Edmund of Langley (later the first Duke of York), and the last son
was Thomas of Woodstock.<div class="col460 postContent clear"><a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/appellants.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-1635" class="size-medium wp-image-1635" height="228" src="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/appellants-300x228.jpg" width="300" /></a><div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_1635" style="width: 310px;"><p class="wp-caption-text" id="caption-attachment-1635"><em>The Lords Appellant Before the King Source: Wikimedia</em></p></div>
<p> Thomas was the youngest of all thirteen known children; there were
seven years between him and the next older sibling. So by the time he
came along, he must have been a surprise! He was fourteen years old when
his mother died. Because of his late arrival, it would be safe to say
that pretty much all the income-producing royal possessions had been
divvied out between his elder brothers. He was predominately reliant
upon the exchequer for his annuities—when the money was available, that
is. It wasn’t until he married the wealthy heiress Eleanor de Bohun that
he acquired some property: the great Castle of Pleshey. So it wouldn’t
be a huge stretch to say this may have contributed toward his
irascibility.
</p><p>Even his prospects through marriage were upset. His wife was
co-heiress of her great fortune; why not pressure her younger sister
Mary into joining a convent, in which case the whole fortune would
default to Eleanor? Alas for Thomas, his older brother John had other
ideas. Waiting until Thomas was on the continent serving the king, Gaunt
concocted a plot with Mary’s aunt to spirit the girl away and marry her
to his own son, Henry of Bolingbroke. Finding his plans in ruins,
Thomas was hard put to forgive his older brother for cheating him.</p>
<p>Thomas was created Earl of Buckingham at Richard II’s coronation. He
had little use for his royal nephew who was only ten at the time, and he
always treated the lad with scorn. Even when Richard made him Duke of
Gloucester in 1385 (along with his brother Edmund, who was made Duke of
York), relations did not improve between them. The following year, when
John of Gaunt sailed to Spain to claim his crown of Castile, the main
impediment to Gloucester’s ambition was removed. The road was clear to
put his nephew in his place and get some control over his troublesome
favorites—as he saw it. First, it was time to impeach the chancellor
Michael de la Pole, then he and his allies would force the young king to
submit to a <a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/?p=1628">Great and Continual Council</a> who would implement necessary reforms.</p>
<p>Needless to say, Richard was incensed, though he conceded when
Gloucester threatened him with usurpation like his great-grandfather
Edward II. The king’s solution was to absent himself from London and
travel around the country trying to drum up support. At the same time he
had the clever idea to consult with eminent judges and determine
whether Gloucester’s actions were treasonous. Under pressure, they
agreed. In the end, this gave Richard’s enemies enough ammunition to
denounce his evil advisors (they couldn’t go after the king directly)
during the <a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/?p=1729">Merciless Parliament.</a>
Gloucester was the principal mover; he was one of five Lords Appellant,
as they were called, who managed to kill or eliminate all of Richard’s
friends and allies. I wrote about this at length in my novel, A KING
UNDER SIEGE:</p>
<p>But the Lords Appellant weren’t really interested in running the
country. Once they had their revenge against the king’s supporters, they
quickly lost interest and failed to pursue their advantage, leaving
their (illegal) Continual Council in charge. Almost exactly a year
later, the king summoned a Great Council and reminded them that he had
reached his majority. He declared that he was in charge now, and that
the chancellor, Gloucester, Arundel, and Warwick were relieved of their
duty, thank you very much. It was as simple as that!</p>
<div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_3842" style="width: 460px;"><a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/ArrestDukeofGloucester-BL-Harley-4380-f.-181v.jpg"><img alt="" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-3842" class="wp-image-3842" height="303" src="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/ArrestDukeofGloucester-BL-Harley-4380-f.-181v-300x207.jpg" width="440" /></a><p class="wp-caption-text" id="caption-attachment-3842"><em>Arrest of the Duke of Gloucester BL, Harley 4380, f. 181v</em></p></div>
<p>For the next seven years, thing went pretty smoothly. The country was
prosperous, there were no major disturbances, and Gloucester kept a
fairly low profile, seemingly content to annoy the king on occasion just
to stay in practice. But something was apparently going on behind the
scenes, though historians are far from certain exactly what happened.
Nonetheless, in early 1397 Richard began to suspect the Appellants were
stirring up trouble again—and his natural paranoia took over, with dire
consequences. Without warning, he decided to take his long-delayed
revenge on his enemies, arresting Gloucester, the Earl of Arundel and
the Earl of Warwick. They were to be tried by Parliament and declared
traitors. The other two Appellants—Henry Bolingbroke and Thomas
Mowbray—were off the hook, for the moment. Bolingbroke was protected by
his father, and Mowbray had managed to worm himself back into Richard’s
good graces.</p>
<p>Gloucester provided a bit of a dilemma. After all, he was John of
Gaunt’s younger brother, and Richard knew it would be next to impossible
to get a condemnation from the Duke of Lancaster. While deciding what
to do, he sent Gloucester across the Channel to Calais, where he was
safely out of sight. Mowbray, who was Captain of Calais, was sent as his
jailer. It was all very cleverly arranged; Gloucester was persuaded to
write his confession, and when it came his time to appear in Parliament,
Mowbray declared that he had died in prison.</p>
<div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_2851" style="width: 278px;"><a href="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/Thomas_of_Woodstock-murdered-by-Colfox-Froissart-BnF-MS-Fr-2646-fol.-289..jpg"><img alt="" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-2851" class="size-medium wp-image-2851" height="300" src="https://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/Thomas_of_Woodstock-murdered-by-Colfox-Froissart-BnF-MS-Fr-2646-fol.-289.-268x300.jpg" width="268" /></a><p class="wp-caption-text" id="caption-attachment-2851"><em>The Duke of Gloucester murdered, Froissart BnF MS Fr 2646, fol. 289.</em></p></div>
<p>Did it look sufficiently suspicious? I’m sure it did, but Richard got
away with it anyway—at least, until his usurpation. During Henry IV’s
first Parliament, the truth came out and everybody learned that the Duke
of Gloucester had been murdered. The only witness who told the story
was immediately hustled to his execution, though he claimed he was only
guarding the door. Someone had to pay!</p>
<p>All of this is described at length in THE KING’S RETRIBUTION. If Richard hadn’t sent Bolingbroke into exile and appropriated his inheritance, he might have <em>really</em>
gotten away with the whole irregular coup. There wasn’t a tremendous
outcry at the time; the condemned Lords Appellant had been out of the
public eye for many years. Gloucester still managed to stir up trouble,
but for the most part he was yesterday’s news. It seemed that nobody
gave him much thought except for Richard, who was so traumatized that he
just couldn’t let go. In the end, Gloucester’s fate became a rallying
cry for Bolingbroke’s rebellion, and the duke’s long shadow overtook his
nemesis.</p></div>Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-52480589760786304622019-01-27T09:07:00.000-08:002019-01-27T09:07:30.375-08:00Shakespeare's Richard II<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidKUTuPjmQoHHEPB39ukVPAU0wwqpRP5lMBvlNX4XzsUgjIb9fnmns3oWF4_OpZFqNlmR9ElMRN1j82t7hSQNNuNOVJg2xQpHahnc55f7duRXIifslu2vrbYU_TJpXcF1hdqtAPZLOfBg/s1600/Richard-IIcloser.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="393" data-original-width="335" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidKUTuPjmQoHHEPB39ukVPAU0wwqpRP5lMBvlNX4XzsUgjIb9fnmns3oWF4_OpZFqNlmR9ElMRN1j82t7hSQNNuNOVJg2xQpHahnc55f7duRXIifslu2vrbYU_TJpXcF1hdqtAPZLOfBg/s320/Richard-IIcloser.jpg" width="272" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Richard II Westminster portrait. Source:
Wikipedia</span></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Like
many of us, I first learned of Richard II from Shakespeare. Even though I knew
nothing about him, I was totally moved during the prison scene while he
bemoaned the fate of kings—and I never recovered! But his story goes way beyond
the events of this play; in fact, Shakespeare only covered the last year of
Richard’s life. He tells us nothing about what led up to the famous scene
between Bolingbroke and Mowbray, where their trial by combat was interrupted
and they were sent into exile. This was indeed the crisis that led to the
king's downfall, but Richard's story is much more complicated than you would
ever think from watching the play.</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">First
of all, did you realize that Henry of Bolingbroke was Richard's first cousin?
The clues are all there but it's not easy to put them together. The old John of
Gaunt ("</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This
blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England...<span style="color: black;">")
was the eldest of Richard's surviving uncles, and because Richard was childless
he was next in line to the throne (debatable, but that's another story).
Bolingbroke, Gaunt's eldest son, was next after him. This did not appeal to
Richard; in fact, according to all reports, having Bolingbroke as his heir was
anathema. Why? Events in my book, A KING UNDER SIEGE, will give you a good
idea. Richard and Henry were never friendly, but during the second crisis in
Richard's reign, Bolingbroke was one of the Lords Appellant—the five barons who
drove the Merciless Parliament to murder the king's loyal followers. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Richard's
minority was not easy. The doddering Edward III was hardly a role model, and
neither was his father, the ailing Black Prince who languished for years,
disabled and debilitated. On Edward III's death, Parliament insisted on
Richard's coronation instead of a regency; many feared that John of Gaunt would
seize the throne. Nonetheless, what could one expect from a ten year-old? Four
years later, the boy king proved himself worthy during the Peasants' Revolt,
but his subsequent attempts to assert himself led to conflict with his
magnates. His bad temper, sharp tongue, and impetuous nature gave the restive
barons plenty of excuses to hold him down. Richard's solution was to surround
himself with cooperative friends and advisors and exclude the self-righteous
lords from his inner circle, which infuriated them. The king needed proper
guidance, they insisted; his household needed purging.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_d5QiyQ5gOwPsDg5iRlLl7SEQMOyh-ihHsy6f7wjIYx1KnYGoK1Wi9AjFyuIp2gsU7A8twtKGARd3hkjviGisnor8S56IijH-ckoRqfkofKIbr6OFZVoxWGmVOeiQIpjDxOKa4nCx7tM/s1600/appellants.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="1292" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_d5QiyQ5gOwPsDg5iRlLl7SEQMOyh-ihHsy6f7wjIYx1KnYGoK1Wi9AjFyuIp2gsU7A8twtKGARd3hkjviGisnor8S56IijH-ckoRqfkofKIbr6OFZVoxWGmVOeiQIpjDxOKa4nCx7tM/s320/appellants.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The five appellants
before the king. Source: Wikimedia</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Lords Appellant, as they came to be known, threatened Richard with abdication—humiliating
him and destroying his power base. At first there were three of them: Richard's
uncle Thomas Duke of Gloucester, Thomas Beauchamp Earl of Warwick, and Richard
FitzAlan Earl of Arundel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
Richard's aborted attempt to raise an army in defense, Henry of Bolingbroke and
Thomas Mowbray joined their ranks—the same who challenged each other in
Shakespeare's play.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So
you can see that Shakespeare's trial by combat had a lot more going on than
could easily be explained. Richard may have appeared detached while he observed
the quarrel between Bolingbroke and Mowbray, but under his regal bearing he
must have been shivering with glee. The altercation between these two knights
was actually the result of their involvement in the Merciless Parliament. A
year before the play took place, Richard had already succeeded in wreaking
revenge on the original three Appellants. Mowbray feared that their turn was
next, and when he voiced his concerns to Bolingbroke, the latter tried to save
his skin by telling the king. The argument escalated from there, giving Richard
the perfect opportunity to get rid of both of them</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">. He made his fatal error when he
went too far and deprived Bolingbroke of his inheritance. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shakespeare gave us the
poignancy of Richard's last days. Historians have left us more of a conundrum
which may never be sorted out. Richard's 22-year reign can be divided into two
parts: the 12 years of his minority and the ten years of his majority—each of
which are brought to a tragic climax. Hence, it will take two books to cover
his story. As you might guess, volume two will be called THE KING'S
RETRIBUTION. </span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-91171142971622944902018-12-13T16:07:00.001-08:002018-12-13T16:07:36.800-08:00Announcing A KING UNDER SIEGE New Release<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8PBuXQTshGPE5DHHL6T8-6_p86Tu0O7nLRvn5I1TnuSFFYhIG1YjwB3gmOm1dcfWql4sN9WtOb9He8ym1kV2Ymlb55dsXA_MyTqysmSDeDNWfFHeQm11Awe2_a-iqCIA0zdX0081u1c/s1600/RichardCover.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1057" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8PBuXQTshGPE5DHHL6T8-6_p86Tu0O7nLRvn5I1TnuSFFYhIG1YjwB3gmOm1dcfWql4sN9WtOb9He8ym1kV2Ymlb55dsXA_MyTqysmSDeDNWfFHeQm11Awe2_a-iqCIA0zdX0081u1c/s320/RichardCover.gif" width="211" /></a></div>
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/King-Under-Siege-Plantagenet-Legacy-ebook/dp/B07L9L85GK">AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER</a>! Release Date Jan 5, 2019
BOOK BLURB: <i>Richard II found himself under siege not once, but twice in his minority. Crowned king at age ten, he was only fourteen when the Peasants' Revolt terrorized London. But he proved himself every bit the Plantagenet successor, facing Wat Tyler and the rebels when all seemed lost. Alas, his triumph was short-lived, and for the next ten years he struggled to assert himself against his uncles and increasingly hostile nobles. Just like in the days of his great-grandfather Edward II, vengeful magnates strove to separate him from his friends and advisors, and even threatened to depose him if he refused to do their bidding. The Lords Appellant, as they came to be known, purged the royal household with the help of the Merciless Parliament. They murdered his closest allies, leaving the King alone and defenseless. He would never forget his humiliation at the hands of his subjects. Richard's inability to protect his adherents would haunt him for the rest of his life, and he vowed that next time, retribution would be his.
</i><br />
<br />
Richard II has proved to be one of the most enigmatic kings in the Middle Ages. Just like that other Richard (III, as we know him) his reputation was demolished by the person that usurped him. Historians are destined to muddle through documents that have been altered or written by hostile chroniclers. They must search for missing records and interpret passages written by survivors anxious to curry favor with the new king—or at least escape censure. It doesn't help that there is such a wide range of conflicting opinions about him.<br />
<br />
Like many of us, I first learned about Richard II from Shakespeare. Even though I knew nothing about him, I was totally moved during the prison scene when he bemoaned the fate of kings—and I never recovered! But his story goes way beyond the events of this play; in fact, Shakespeare only covered the last year of Richard's life. We know nothing about what led up to the famous scene between Bolingbroke and Mowbray, where their trial by combat was interrupted by the king and they were sent into exile. Once I did my research, I was astounded at how complicated Richard's life really was. His 22-year reign can be divided up into two parts: the 12 years of his minority and the ten years of his majority—each of which are brought to a tragic climax. Hence, it will take me two books to cover his story. As you might guess from the book blurb, volume two will be called THE KING'S RETRIBUTION.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-4904046399945459782018-11-14T12:12:00.000-08:002018-11-14T12:12:13.627-08:00Inheritance in Medieval England<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKTDY3FxjI88-suO8yQKG2VXImpqYzJyqRGWIppP61r-uT2yA2MH-HCRu_c-YWud48LOZLBs8McrVZnIKQiQ-yJVyj3uC2heyN7R2WhinpZ9d6ovVeYL6M9P5Mozrmk9HIv-DjSR6lTH8/s1600/Detail_from_the_roll_of_the_genealogical_line_from_Henry_III_to_Edward_II%252C_with_an_extension_to_Edward_III.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="601" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKTDY3FxjI88-suO8yQKG2VXImpqYzJyqRGWIppP61r-uT2yA2MH-HCRu_c-YWud48LOZLBs8McrVZnIKQiQ-yJVyj3uC2heyN7R2WhinpZ9d6ovVeYL6M9P5Mozrmk9HIv-DjSR6lTH8/s320/Detail_from_the_roll_of_the_genealogical_line_from_Henry_III_to_Edward_II%252C_with_an_extension_to_Edward_III.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Source: Wikipedia: Genealogical roll of the kings of England. 1300-1308. Royal 14 B VI Membrane 7 From Henry III to Edward III</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Cut-and-dried? Not on your life. Primogeniture, or the “law” governing inheritance, even in its basic form could prove elusive to the most determined lawyer. “Primogeniture among males, equal shares between females, a son always preferred to a daughter, a daughter to a brother or other collateral. For the fief to retain its coherence, it was thus essential that its proprietor, if not childless, should have at least one son or, failing sons, not more than one daughter.” (see K.B. McFarlane’s “The Nobility of Later Medieval England”). Easier said than done! Sorting out the details got messy very quickly.
<BR><BR>
According to McFarlane, approximately 25% of all noble families failed in the direct male line in every generation. So according to the laws of inheritance, any daughters would be next in line, even if there was a male nephew, for instance, or a surviving brother, known as collateral heirs. When the inheritance went to an heiress, the line would be passed to her husband—an unfortunate outcome, needless to say. A famous example of this was the Beauchamp inheritance. When in 1446 the Earl of Warwick died with no male heir, his lands and title passed on to his daughter who died in infancy; after that the earldom passed on to his full sister, married to Richard Neville who was already Earl of Salisbury—and later known as the Kingmaker. If there were multiple daughters, they would split the inheritance. In the case of Richard Neville, he had no sons—only two daughters, the elder married to George Duke of Clarence and the younger to Richard Duke of Gloucester, the future Richard III. George became next Earl of Warwick through Isabella, then was executed, passing the title to his son Edward Plantagenet. Imprisoned in the Tower of London at age 10, Edward spent the rest of his life there and was executed in 1499, at which point the line became extinct.
<BR><BR>
If the father had a big family, naturally he would want to take care of younger sons and daughters, notwithstanding the legends of the younger son driven from home to seek his fortune. In the case of royalty, the younger sons often were often made earls, or dukes—and married to an heiress, if possible. And of course there was sometimes a situation where a younger son was preferred over the direct heir. What was a man to do? What’s important to the study of primogeniture is to know that property could not be devised by a will, as we know it today. According to McFarlane, “If a landowner died, his heir inherited; if he wanted to benefit his younger children he had to do it in his own lifetime.” Most people did not want to divest themselves of their lands à la King Lear, so this was not a common option.
<BR><BR>
Clever aristocrats soon found a way around this restriction: the estate tail. What happened here is that the grantor would surrender his fief as a “conditional gift” to his king, his immediate lord, or a group of friends. Then he would receive it back “on terms different from those governing ordinary inheritance”. He no longer owned the fief in “fee simple” (by definition unconditional); he held it in “fee tail”. This way he could cut out the direct heir, or possibly his daughter in favor of collateral heirs (or any other situation—even bastardy). If women were excluded altogether, or at least until all male descendants were extinct, this estate was called “tail male” or “entail”. The entail was irrevocable and perpetual, even if the principal changed his mind before he died. No one could alter it. However, in the legal interest of the direct heir, entails usually reverted back to the head of the family if there was a total failure of male heirs in the cadet branches after three generations.
<BR><BR>
Slightly more adaptable was another legal device known as the use. A man would grant his lands, “or any part of them, to a number of his friends, usually called his feoffees, to hold to his use as long as he lived and to dispose of when he was dead in accordance with his last will.” (McFarlane) For all intents-and-purposes the grantor was now a tenant for life rather than owner of the estate. The use had the added advantage that an underaged lord who inherited was not subject to a wardship in his minority—hence, it was a bit of a tax dodge, since wardships had a monetary value. A disadvantage was that the feofees had to be trusted implicitly; if they acted fraudulently or in disobedience, there was little established recourse for the wronged party.
<BR><BR>
By the end of the fourteenth century, “tail male” became ingrained and extended to earldoms as well. An added bonus, by the way, is that an estate held in “fee tail” could not be forfeited for treason. Ultimately this new freedom to bequeath land had its own consequences: too many unsustainable cadet branches weakened the line. Primogeniture reasserted itself around 1500, though many permutations continued to exist.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-62984575904776168562018-10-26T09:12:00.001-07:002018-10-26T09:12:26.923-07:00In the Days After Hastings<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsQexHGwguEjGVxKLm1KU_ToMiSJXUnDFkXqOZLc_9eEvyIs2PoFzfEqJIw1K_6cMWORAiHr-BMno2rmfH4Jxk4Z6eldd0sCyqYovN7ffi5sC6MEXX9vcAF5qn7RwlgznH-6BnmLlrGs/s1600/WilliamBodyOfHarold-FordMaddoxBrown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1033" data-original-width="1200" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsQexHGwguEjGVxKLm1KU_ToMiSJXUnDFkXqOZLc_9eEvyIs2PoFzfEqJIw1K_6cMWORAiHr-BMno2rmfH4Jxk4Z6eldd0sCyqYovN7ffi5sC6MEXX9vcAF5qn7RwlgznH-6BnmLlrGs/s400/WilliamBodyOfHarold-FordMaddoxBrown.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #333333;">The Body of Harold brought before William the Conqueror by Ford Madox Brown, Manchester Art Gallery</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was said that after the great Battle, William the Conqueror retired to Hastings and awaited the submission of the English people. None was forthcoming. Was he surprised, I wonder? After all, England had been subjected to Danish invasions the last couple of centuries, winning and losing battle after battle. Of course, they had not lost their king during one of those battles, but electing another king was only a matter of time. Apparently—at least initially—no one had any intention of recognizing the usurper. Of course, this was destined to change.<BR><BR>
But not yet. With a few days after Harold's death (I can't find an exact date), a hastily-assembled Witan elected Eadgar Aetheling as king; he was the last surviving heir of the Royal house of Cedric of Wessex though still in his early teens. Eadgar was not crowned, presumably because this event always coincided with a high religious holiday and the next appropriate date would not occur until Christmas. Historian Edward A. Freeman suggested that Edwin and Morcar put themselves forward as likely candidates but received no support. They duly consented to Eadgar's election, then went back home with their levies, "and left Eadgar and England to their fate". Freeman's judgment was harsh: "The patriotic zeal of the men of London was thwarted by the base secession of the Northern traitors. By their act all was lost." Divided, England could not stand up to the might of the Norman invader.<BR><BR>
William waited at Hastings for five days then resolved to secure the southeast portion of England before advancing on London. He marched along the coast, plundering his way to strike terror in his conquered people. He took especial revenge on Romney who had the audacity to attack some of his men before the great Battle. William then advanced to Dover which surrendered without a blow. Had the garrison already been killed at Hastings? It is said that William intended to spare the city because of its submission but that some of his unruly soldiers plundered anyway, setting fire to many houses. William brought his men under control and even compensated the homeowners for their losses. He spent eight days at Dover and left his wounded there to recover.<BR><BR>
The Conqueror's violence to the resistors and leniency to towns surrendering along the way served its purpose in Kent; even the city of Canterbury met the Duke on the road with hostages and tribute. This was on October 29. Interestingly, two days later, he pitched camp nearby in a neighborhood called the Broken Tower and stayed there for a month, for he was stricken down with a serious illness. This didn't stop him from sending messengers to Winchester where Queen Editha had taken refuge, offering to leave them alone as long as they submitted to his rule (along with tribute, of course). Editha consulted with the city fathers and together they agreed to William's terms. For all intents and purposes, the south was in William's hands.<BR><BR>
He now turned his attention to London; the last vestiges of resistance were strong there. Initially he sent forward a small contingent of 500 knights, who were met south of the Thames by a stout company of Londoners. A skirmish took place that sent the citizens retreating back inside the walls of the city; at this, the soldiers set fire to Southwark. But William was not minded to attack London yet; rather, he struck west along the southern bank of the Thames, harrying Surrey, Hampshire, and Berkshire until he reached Wallingford, which offered a bridge and a ford across the river. Unchallenged, William crossed and continued north, intent on creating a circle of desolation around London. Although this was not a formal siege, it was beginning to have the trappings of one.
By the time William reached Berkhampstead, apparently the English were demoralized. An embassy led by none other than Eadgar Aetheling himself, accompanied by Archbishops Ealdred and probably Stigand (as well as many of the chiefest men from London and southern England) came and did homage to William. Prepared to be merciful, the Conqueror received them graciously and gave Eadgar the kiss of peace. As Freeman reminds us: "It was the chance shot of an arrow which had overcome the English King, but it was William's own policy which had overcome the English people." And so it began.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-13316185643653132902018-01-11T13:19:00.000-08:002018-01-11T13:19:58.021-08:00King Richard’s Household: the Retinue<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1nwlcmB_gXk3POTns4qoqBteOWPyNaJltX_Xe0oBEXoNfhHNycZs1HST_pwk1Gw3uRV0k56GVPnu0dIOLg4EvnMPoQemsE4Q9CjclqwG-DBexdZOFmCx1whcDiHIHsjr8BQ0gBcva1Tg/s1600/richard2verses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1059" data-original-width="758" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1nwlcmB_gXk3POTns4qoqBteOWPyNaJltX_Xe0oBEXoNfhHNycZs1HST_pwk1Gw3uRV0k56GVPnu0dIOLg4EvnMPoQemsE4Q9CjclqwG-DBexdZOFmCx1whcDiHIHsjr8BQ0gBcva1Tg/s320/richard2verses.jpg" width="229" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>British Library: MS Harley 4205 f.6V</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My interest in “<em>The Royal Household and the King’s Affinity: Service, Politics and Finance in England 1360-1413</em>” by Chris Given-Wilson goes way beyond what I can discuss in a book review. In <a href="http://www.mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/?p=1804" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Part One</a>
I talked about the king’s servants, from the lowest page to the great
officers. When we move on to the chapters about the king’s affinity—or
his retinue, for lack of a better word—we learn about the different
layers of intimates: courtiers, knights, retainers, and so on. Some of
them received annuities (the chamber knights) and some of them were only
called upon in case of specific need and were paid accordingly.<br /><BR>
The chamber knights were intimates of the king and were often sent
away on special missions (as ambassadors, for instance, or in Burley’s
case to negotiate his marriage). At the start of Richard’s reign there
were about ten chamber knights, mostly left over from the Black Prince’s
household; the most famous of them were also victims of the <a href="http://www.mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/?p=1729" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Appellants</a>
in 1388: Simon Burley and John Beauchamp of Holt. Two others were
beheaded and three more were ordered to leave court. In the ’90s a new
generation of intimates formed around the king—closer to his age—and by
the end of Richard’s reign he had about 18 chamber knights in service.
According to the author, “they actually had regular duties at court,
either in the chamber or in the hall, and that they were obliged to
remain at court for certain periods of each year (perhaps this was
organized on a rotational basis, perhaps it was as other duties allowed,
but certainly some of them would have been with the king all the
time).” Chamber knights were rewarded with “temporary grants such as
wardships, the custody of royal lands or castles (with attached fees),
life annuities, and salaried posts in the king’s gift.” This was not a
path to great landed wealth, though Richard did reward them whenever he
could.<br /><BR>
The author thinks about the royal affinity in terms of concentric
circles around the king. The inner circle, most of the time, controlled
access to the king—much to the annoyance of those who thought they
deserved better. The king’s intimates—aside from chamber knights—were
great officers of state, royal councilors, great magnates (in his
favor), esquires of the chamber, and clerks of the royal chapel.
Included among his inner circle were the <em>bachelerii—</em>or bachelors<em>—”</em>a
distinct group of retainers in whom their lord reposed a special
trust”. Some (perhaps all) were indeed chamber knights, but not all of
them are recorded as receiving fees and robes. Perhaps they were just
close personal friends; it’s difficult to say for certain. The second
circle “may be defined as those who were bound to the king by ties of
service, and by the fact that he paid them a regular wage…and expected
them to serve him on a regular basis.” These included department
officials, sergeants-at-arms, and lesser clerks; the majority of the
household of 400-700 total belonged to this circle. The third (and
outer) circle included those called upon for specific needs as mentioned
above: the king’s knights, the king’s esquires, archers, and yeomen.
They mostly did not live at the court and were called up as required,
but here too there were layers of service. You had the bannerets (a
superior rank of knight with a personal retinue of up to 20 men; he
received 4<em>s </em>a day wages on campaign), simple knights (who received 2<em>s</em> a day on campaign), and esquires.<br /><BR>
The king’s knights were the military men who mostly received
annuities, “who were not of the royal household but who were attached to
the person of the king”. After the episode with the Appellants, Richard
started retaining knights for life; he realized that “he wanted to be
sure of a loyal core of followers in a crisis” which was sorely lacking
in 1387. In the last couple of years of his reign during his “second
tyranny” he surrounded himself with the turbulent Cheshire archers, thus
contributing greatly to the costs of the exchequer and wreaking havoc
with the locals. In the same time frame he started retaining squires for
life as well, in somewhat greater numbers; they were about half as
expensive to maintain as knights.<br /><BR>
<a href="http://www.mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Affinity.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-1812" height="300" src="http://www.mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Affinity-204x300.jpg" width="204" /></a>So
the king’s knights were among his lay courtiers. But not to be
overlooked were his clerical courtiers, those of the king’s chapel,
numbering up to 50 at any one time. The clerics were the ones who did
the departmental work, i.e. clerks of the chancery, clerks of the
exchequer, the privy seal office, the marshalsea, the chapel, etc. The
clerical position was often a stepping-stone to higher religious posts,
and they usually held prebends or canonries outside of the court from
which they received the bulk of their livings. Many went on to be
bishops; in fact, “by the end of the reign Richard had secured
bishoprics for so many of his household clerks that the episcopacy must
almost have come to resemble an extension of the household.” It is
interesting that in his last few years, “the number of clerks among the
king’s closest companions and advisors was considerably greater than the
number of chamber knights”. They were to become a thorn in the side for
Henry IV, many going so far as to assist the rebels in 1400.<br /><BR>
It was contemporary opinion that Richard was much too impressionable
and influenced by his “evil councilors”. It was the purpose of the Lords
Appellant to remove his inner circle so they themselves could exert
some influence over the king. They certainly succeeded in eliminating
(one way or the other) more than 40 people from his household, but they
fell short of their ultimate goal once he reached his majority and took
control of the government in 1389.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-546237966600153882017-12-15T10:38:00.002-08:002017-12-15T10:38:43.324-08:00King Richard’s Household: The Servants<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 15.86px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Affinity.jpg" style="color: #0066cc; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-1812" src="http://www.mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Affinity-204x300.jpg" height="300" sizes="(max-width: 204px) 100vw, 204px" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 102, 204); border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-image-outset: 0; border-image-repeat: stretch; border-image-slice: 100%; border-image-source: none; border-image-width: 1; border-left-color: rgb(0, 102, 204); border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: rgb(0, 102, 204); border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: rgb(0, 102, 204); border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; float: left; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 7px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 530px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 4px;" width="204" /></a>The more I research, the better I understand that what goes on behind the scenes is just as important as the high-profile episodes defining a king’s reign. So naturally, I was thrilled to discover “<em>The Royal Household and the King’s Affinity: Service, Politics and Finance in England 1360-1413</em>” by Chris Given-Wilson; this book brought me as close to the 14th century court as a layperson could hope to get. I’m highlighting the book’s major components, for there is a lot to learn here and I’d like to emphasize the parts that I found critical to my understanding. The author tells us that the king’s permanent staff numbered between 400-700 members, though when you add in the servants of the senior household officers, the foreign dignitaries with their staff, guests and hangers-on, the number of people at court could easily have surpassed 1000. That’s a lot of mouths to feed! </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Bear in mind that in this period the king did not have a permanent address. King Richard tended to use residences within thirty miles of London, and he would typically stay in one place for maybe two weeks up to two months. Favored palaces were Windsor, Ethan and Sheen. Other royal houses included Havering, King’s Langley, Clarendon, Easthamstead, Woodstock, Henley-on-the-Heath, Kennigton and Berkhamstead. Richard also favored spending a few nights along the way at religious houses—at the monasteries’ expense; perhaps this gave the Exchequer some breathing space! All this moving around meant his household servants considered travel, or “removing”, as a regular part of everyday life. But when you add up all that went with the move—”many hundreds of horses, and a massive store of baggage: crockery and cutlery, hangings, furnishings, clothes and weaponry, wax, wine and storage vessels, parchment and quills, weights, measures, and so on”—the concept is staggering to the modern mind.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">As laid out in the reign of King Stephen, the household was divided up into five main departments as depicted below.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">There were changes along the way, but I found this chart to be most helpful (before the mid-14th century, the Chancellor had detached itself from the chamber and kept a separate office). In Richard II’s time, the five chief officers of the household were the Steward, the Chamberlain, the Controller, the Keeper of the Wardrobe (or treasurer), and the Cofferer. The <em>Steward</em> was responsible “for the efficient running, discipline, and general organization” of the king’s household. The <em>Chamberlain</em> had overall charge of the chamber; he controlled written and personal access to the king. Both of these officers were the king’s close personal friends, and both were probably of equal status. Naturally they were incredibly powerful, but often contemporaries believed that they abused their position to enrich themselves and gave bad advice to the king; Sir Simon Burley, John Beauchamp of Holt, and William le Scrope paid for their royal influence with their lives. The <em>Controller(s)</em> kept the accounts and was responsible for “supervising purveyance, harbinging, (see below) and eating arrangements in the hall”. The <em>Keeper of the Wardrobe</em> was responsible to the Exchequer for all monies that passed through the household. The <em>Cofferer</em> was the deputy to the Keeper, and held the keys to the money box.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Each great office had its lesser servants: “they were not just ‘valets’ or ‘garcons’ but ‘valets of the buttery’ or ‘garcons of the sumpterhorses’ and so forth.” Each job was departmentalized, apparently with little cross-over. “By far the largest department of the household was the marshalsea, or avenary (to be distinguished from the Marshalsea Court) which throughout this period employed at least 100 valets and grooms, and sometimes nearer 200.”<br /><br />
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<span style="color: black;">Most of the household servants traveled with the king, though a large group went ahead to prepare the way. </span><span style="color: black;">The 30-40 <em>harbingers</em>‘ job was to requisition lodgings for everyone; the nine <em>purveyors</em> commandeered supplies within the verge (12 mile radius from the king’s actual presence). “Then came the king himself, preceded by his thirty sergeants-at-arms and twenty-four foot-archers marching in solemn procession, surrounded by his knights, esquires and clerks as well as any other friends or guests who happened to be staying at court, and followed by all the remaining servants of the household, driving and pulling the horses and carts which carried the massive baggage-store.” With luck, the itinerary was planned several weeks or months in advance or else the king would have to lower his standard of living. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">The purveyors had a particularly difficult job, for their activities were almost always a bone of contention. They rarely paid in cash; instead, they often gave the long-suffering supplier a note to be cashed at the exchequer—when the funds were available, that is. The supplier could wait months to get paid, if he got paid at all. And what are the purveying offices? “The <em>Pantry</em>, or bakehouse, for corn and bread; the <em>Buttery</em>, for wine and beer; the <em>Kitchen</em>, for all food not covered by other offices; the <em>Poultery</em>, for poultry, game-birds, and eggs; the <em>Stables</em> (or avenary, or marshalsea), for hay, oats and litter for the horses; the <em>Saucery</em>, for salt and whatever was needed for sauces; the <em>Hall and Chamber</em>, for coal and wood for heating, and rushes; the <em>Scullery</em>, for crockery, cutlery, storage vessels, and coal and wood for cooking; and the <em>Spicery</em>, for spices, wax, soap, parchment, and quills.”<br />
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<span style="color: black;">It’s hard to get our hands around the everyday living arrangements of the king’s servants, but the author likened the king’s residence to the “upstairs and downstairs”. The chamber was the upstairs (quite literally) and the hall was the downstairs (where the servants congregated). The king would descend to the hall and feast communally during banquets and ceremonial occasions, but for the rest of the time he would be secluded in his chamber with his intimates. Edward III had taken to building private apartments for his high-ranking officers and guests. As for the bottom end of the household, “meals were served in the hall in two shifts…it was forbidden to remove food from the hall.” I</span><span style="color: black;">t seems pretty certain that the servants slept anywhere they could: “those who did not sleep in the hall probably distributed themselves around the passageways and vestibules, huddled in winter around the great fireplaces, lying on their straw mats (pallets) which may have been single or double.” Four sergeants-at-arms slept outside the king’s door and a further 26 slept in the hall. “No member of the household staff was to keep a wife or other woman at court”, though prostitutes were regularly ejected.<br /><br />
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<span style="color: black;">The king’s affinity embraces his great officers of state, magnates, clerks of the royal chapel, councilors, knights, servants, retainers, and other followers. In the next post I’ll concentrate on the many layers of knights in the king’s affinity and their assorted duties. </span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-50403116775705479672017-10-11T09:39:00.002-07:002017-10-11T09:39:39.827-07:00The Lords Appellant Part 2: Radcot Bridge<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOY-WHUpAUzY6bIt74SAfN-InUkcjpP9ludV_eHQncO4OI-gHeALGIpMb9OrRrGxAZr1mysxpI4iLmmGCpghQirU1cz5plcl6_0ANX68aJ_PKEuiTj_YPw8V65vcPheqCaEUe-4-KYDQ/s1600/radcot_bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="389" data-original-width="400" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOY-WHUpAUzY6bIt74SAfN-InUkcjpP9ludV_eHQncO4OI-gHeALGIpMb9OrRrGxAZr1mysxpI4iLmmGCpghQirU1cz5plcl6_0ANX68aJ_PKEuiTj_YPw8V65vcPheqCaEUe-4-KYDQ/s320/radcot_bridge.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Battle of Radcot Bridge (saved from BerkshireHistory.com)</em></td></tr>
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In <a href="http://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/?p=1628">Part 1</a>,
we saw the first year of the Appellants’ attempt to control the kingdom
by a ruling council. Richard spent most of that year traveling around
the kingdom, trying to secure support (mostly from York, Chester and
north Wales). He questioned eminent judges concerning the legality of
the last Parliament, trying to reestablish his royal preeminence.
Knowing this approach was explosive, Richard swore all parties to
secrecy, but in a couple of months the story leaked out, and the
Appellants knew that their very existence was threatened unless they
struck the first blow. As Anthony Steel tells us in his <i>Richard II, </i> “if the old, lax conception of treason were going to be revived, it was vital for them to make the first use of it.”<br />
<br />
By the time Richard returned to London, the three Lords Appellant
(Gloucester, Arundel, and Warwick) had already made their move and
gathered with their forces at Waltham Cross, about twelve miles north of
the city. This was on November 14, 1387. A meeting was arranged for
three days later, and Richard met the three lords at Westminster hall.
There they formally initiated their appeal against five defendants:<br />
<b>Robert de Vere</b>, Earl of Oxford and Richard’s close
friend. Robert was a few years older than Richard and had no experience
in government but had already been created marquess of Dublin and duke
of Ireland for life, a status which exasperated the entitled peers to no
end.<br />
<b>Michael de la Pole, </b>Earl of Suffolk, impeached from the
chancellorship in 1386. He was accused of influencing the king against
Gloucester and Warwick.<br />
<b>Robert Tresilian</b>, chief justice of the king’s bench.
Historians remember him as the pitiless judge during the aftermath of
the Peasant Revolt. He was the main man who influenced the judges who
pronounced against the Merciless Parliament.<br />
<b>Sir Nicholas Brembre</b>, former mayor of London, member of the Grocer’s Company. He frequently supported the king in his disputes against London.<br />
<b>Alexander Neville, </b>archbishop of York, irascible and
uncompromising, who seemed to have the uncanny ability to offend almost
everybody. Except the king.<br />
<br />
Apparently, the Appellants intended to pursue their complaint in the
Court of Chivalry, over which Gloucester presided. However, Richard had a
different answer: he proposed, according to Tuck (<i>Richard II and the English Nobility</i>),
“that the matter be referred to a parliament, an intelligent move, for
it gave de Vere time to bring his army south and perhaps reverse the
whole situation. It also gave the other accused time to escape, and Pole
and Neville used the breathing space to flee overseas.” The next
Parliament was scheduled for the following February. It must be
remembered that Richard had no standing army, nor even armed retainers
to oppose the bristling forces standing by at Waltham Cross. Nor did
London agree to support him. The king was vulnerable and he knew it.
Sending de Vere to Chester, Richard waited while his friend gathered
around 3000-4000 men and tried to march them to London.<br />
<br />
Alas, although Robert de Vere seemed brave enough, he had no military
experience. Arundel soon discovered what he was up to and the knowledge
apparently shocked Henry of Bolingbroke and Thomas de Mobray into
action, bringing the number of Lords Appellant up to five. In fact, it
was Henry who succeeded in trapping de Vere at Radcot Bridge (in
Oxfordshire), where the royalist forces—those who hadn’t already
deserted—were swiftly routed, captured, and disarmed. De Vere made a
dash for freedom; unable to find a ford he stripped his armor off,
abandoned his horse and swam across the Thames. His possessions were
found, along with a letter from the king authorizing de Vere’s actions.
For the moment, it was assumed that he drowned in the river, but it was
later discovered that de Vere managed to limp his way over to France
(never to return alive).<br />
<br />
That was the end of Richard’s resistance. The Lords Appellant marched
their army back to London where they encamped at Clerkenwell and paid a
visit to the king who had taken refuge in the Tower. In the last week
of December, the five lords entered the Tower with 500 heavily-armed
followers and shut the gates behind them. Richard took them into the
privacy of his chapel and nobody really knows what went on behind that
closed door. There’s a story that Bolingbroke drew Richard to the window
and showed him the mob outside waiting to depose him. Undoubtedly the
lords berated him for his duplicity and insisted that he arrest the five
“traitors”. It seems there is a consensus among historians that Richard
ceased to rule the last three days of 1387; a strong probability exists
that he was actually deposed for two or three days—at least Gloucester
admitted such in his last confession ten years later. It is thought that
Gloucester wanted the crown for himself, but Henry of Bolingbroke
wouldn’t go along; his father’s claim—and therefore his own—was
stronger. So in the end, they decided to put Richard back on the throne.
The immediate crisis was over, but Richard would neither forgive nor
forget his humiliation and degradation. Sadly for him, the worst was yet
to come.<br />
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Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-60095635530411578572017-09-22T09:06:00.003-07:002017-10-11T09:41:49.009-07:00The Lords Appellant Part 1: A Great and Continual council <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_4R0HbPKecyeXWR7P8yw97ca_ai2d4WKyGZzXrgpTF8AzlBNNbt4FrVIQaEVeKGMIzH2_UBqYkBPEteJdqtxU2x3YM3J1ATQOVF2KDHx6B9Oy71a0YUJpSEuvh2kfOcm2dpOAXVgW2zI/s1600/appellants.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="1292" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_4R0HbPKecyeXWR7P8yw97ca_ai2d4WKyGZzXrgpTF8AzlBNNbt4FrVIQaEVeKGMIzH2_UBqYkBPEteJdqtxU2x3YM3J1ATQOVF2KDHx6B9Oy71a0YUJpSEuvh2kfOcm2dpOAXVgW2zI/s320/appellants.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="wp-caption-text">
Arundel, Gloucester, Nottingham, Derby, and Warwick, <br />
Before the King <i>Source: Wikimedia</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Although the word appellant in modern terms refers to a petitioner appealing to a higher court, when we look at the fourteenth century the whole concept takes a left turn. First of all, you always see the words Lords Appellant capitalized, and it only seems to refer to those involved in the first legal crisis of Richard II’s reign. The Lords Appellant “appealed” (in essence, accused) Richard’s supporters of treason. Not only were their motives questionable, but the whole process had no legal basis from which to act, and the Appellants were forced to make up the rules as they went along, twisting the system to accommodate their self-serving objectives.<br />
<br />
Initially there were three Appellants: Richard FitzAlan, 11th Earl of Arundel (who served in the wars with Edward III, mostly as admiral), Thomas of Woodstock, 1st Duke of Gloucester (the youngest son of Edward III), and Thomas de Beauchamp, 12th Earl of Warwick (also served with Edward III in the French war). Later on they were joined by Henry Bolingbroke, Earl of Derby (son of John of Gaunt and future Henry IV) and Thomas de Mowbray, Earl of Nottingham, 1st Duke of Norfolk (great-great grandson of Edward I). All these Lords had impressive pedigrees, but the first three had age and experience on their side and considered the young king more of an upstart than a man to be respected. After all, when the Merciless Parliament was called in 1388, Richard may have been 21 years of age but he still hadn’t officially reached his majority.<br />
<br />
I’ll refer to events leading up to this pivotal moment in future posts. For now, suffice it to say that the barons wanted to control the young king who was attempting to rule in a way that was detrimental to their interests. Richard’s advisors, supporters, and friends were accused of giving him bad advice; since the nobles didn’t have enough ammunition to go against the king himself, they would have to be satisfied with eliminating his close supporters. The lords were determined to clean house, so to speak, and appoint a council of their choosing to take over the ruling of the country.<br />
<br />
This happened in several steps. The king wasn’t to know it until later, but when John of Gaunt left the country in 1386 to pursue his Castilian interests, Richard lost the only impediment to the barons’ collaboration. Their first target was Michael de la Pole, Chancellor and newly created Earl of Suffolk. Alas, his long service to Edward III accounted for nothing once the Appellants had their hackles up and they “called for his dismissal—adding that they had ‘business to do with him which they could not transact so long as he remained in office’ “(Nigel Saul’s Richard II p.157). What business was this? Why, nothing less than the first impeachment of any official in English history! Richard was furious and stood his ground: he would not dismiss so much as a kitchen scullion at their request. And at that, he withdrew from the Wonderful Parliament, as it was called, and went to Eltham. Ultimately, Gloucester and Arundel followed him there, and with a combination of bullying, falsehoods and cajoling, they persuaded him to return to Parliament—primarily because of their veiled reference to Edward II’s fate. Cowed, Richard dismissed Michael and the commons launched immediately into impeachment proceedings against him, alleging embezzlement and dereliction of duty in office. He was found guilty and briefly imprisoned, but Richard procured his release and kept his company for much of the next year. Arundel’s brother Thomas became chancellor in Michael’s place.<br />
<br />
Satisfied with the first part of their strategy, the nobles and commons insisted on a “great and continual council” to implement financial reforms, clear up the backlog of debt, and curb the king’s expenditures. Their commission was to last one year and their powers were wide. After some tiresome attempts to interfere with their efforts, Richard took off on a long tour of the north, only returning nine days before the expiration date. Although contemporaries thought he was wandering around aimlessly, in reality it seems he was trying to consolidate his power base and start the recruitment of an army loyal to himself. In the process, he also called two meetings with eminent judges in which he questioned them as to the legality of the previous Parliament; did the House infringe upon the royal prerogatives? Did they have the authority to impeach a Crown officer without the consent of the king? Whether the judges acted under pressure or not is unknown, but their response was that Parliament overstepped its bounds and the offenders should be punished ‘as traitors’.<br />
<br />
This was an interesting development, because the Statute of Treason from 1052 “had limited the definition of treason to such acts as aiding the king’s enemies and levying war against the king in his realm” (Nigel Saul p.166). This is why the judges did not call the Appellants traitors per se, for the definition wouldn’t fit. But Richard’s questions did give him some ammunition to use against his
enemies, though in the end his strategy backfired. Click <a href="http://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/?p=1663&preview=true">here</a> for Part 2.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-86120189269549721222017-07-20T11:33:00.000-07:002017-07-20T11:33:16.136-07:00What was Livery and Maintenance (or Retaining)?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS9YeroS1vvgFSjYCMwXl46qgWoKaqWfDggTVjSl6MACNiWO-Z_U8trYIIn90mfLk9O46C1x-ebmycspBaMVgv93nen5GU4jYEC258_uaQelFGS4HNBvbUqAt1-EH1j5FYlM-bcYQdEoY/s1600/Maintenance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="982" data-original-width="796" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS9YeroS1vvgFSjYCMwXl46qgWoKaqWfDggTVjSl6MACNiWO-Z_U8trYIIn90mfLk9O46C1x-ebmycspBaMVgv93nen5GU4jYEC258_uaQelFGS4HNBvbUqAt1-EH1j5FYlM-bcYQdEoY/s320/Maintenance.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Medieval court scene from BL MS Harley 4375 f.141. <br />Source: Wikipedia</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Livery and Maintenance went hand-in-hand with chivalry, and created
problems throughout the high middle ages. Once I realized that
“retaining” was the verb for “retainer” I started to get the idea. The
noble or king had his retainers, who were either in his household (given
food and clothing) or part of his social and political network (fee’d
retainers, paid an annuity for fealty and service). The retainer looked
to the lord for “livery”—or clothing (hoods or “chaperons”, cloth, and
more specifically, badges; think of Richard III’s white boar)—and
“maintenance”—or maintaining the cause, or dispute, of the client. The
lord was their protector; if they misbehaved, the retainers were pretty
sure they could get off scot free, so to speak, usually by interfering
with justice. Not only were judges and juries intimidated and bribed,
but, according to Anthony Tuck (<em>Richard II and the English Nobility)</em>
“there was a great trade in pardons in the fourteenth century to
produce revenue”. This was applicable only when the accused showed up
for trial, which rarely happened, anyway; there was no way to force the
offender to cooperate.<br /><BR>
As might be expected, wearing a lord’s livery fostered a lively
atmosphere of competition, faction-fighting, and strife. The armed
livery retainers were starting to look and act like thugs. I keep
thinking about the incredible sword-fight in Zeffirelli’s <em>Romeo and Juliet, </em>where
Tybalt and Mercutio led their howling followers in a violent brawl up
and down the streets. Innocent bystanders had to fend for themselves.
When convenient, anyone could be threatened or abused depending on the
inclination of the liveried bully. Law and order was a farce.<br />
<BR>
All the way back to Edward I’s days, attempts were made to control
this disregard for the law. By Richard II’s reign, Parliament tried to
order the nobles to cease the practice of liveries, but the Lords
insisted they could control their own offenders. Of course, they
couldn’t and this caused a constant conflict between the Lords and the
Commons which Richard took advantage of, even offering to abolish his
own livery if the nobles would do the same. This offer was scorned by
the Lords, but it served to create a badly-needed rapprochement between
King and the Commons.<br /><BR>
In Richard’s reign, retaining took on a special urgency. In return
for his loyalty, a retainer expected patronage, advancement, or even
acquisition of lands. If the lord couldn’t extend his patronage (for
instance, if the king denied him access or offered a better deal), he
might very well lose the allegiance of his retainers. This was one of
the major grievances of the Lords Appellant, for as young Richard II
distributed lands and honors to just about anybody who asked for them,
the great magnates saw their influence waning. This was especially true
in the late 1380s, after the Merciless Parliament when Richard needed to
rebuild his support base. As Anthony Goodman tells us (<em>The Loyal Conspiracy</em>):
“As he (Richard) progressed, he retained… The nervousness it aroused
was reflected, too, in the arrest near Cambridge of a servant of the
king who had been distributing liveries to the gentry of East Anglia and
Essex, on receiving which they swore to do military service when
summoned by the king, no matter which lords had retained them.” By the
end of Richards’s reign, he had retained so many followers that he beat
his enemies at their own game; he alarmed London by filling it with an
army of Cheshiremen, and in his last two years, his tyrannical behavior
was ungovernable. Alas, for Richard, the more easily acquired, the
easier they were lost, and when the final showdown occurred, his
standing army evaporated and he faced the usurper alone.<br />
<BR>
It wasn’t until the Tudors that an end was put to maintenance, and
enforceable laws were introduced. By then, chivalry had run its course
and the Wars of the Roses had wiped out the overweening might of the
aristocracy, leaving a more pliant nobility.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-77138320916839062792017-06-23T13:55:00.006-07:002017-06-23T13:55:55.901-07:00The Poll Tax, Part 2: The Peasants’ Revolt is Sparked<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOnwOHxmC1_rShG0xo9GEnzH91pR-d2GtALEHd8JM3bvME9vOY9-rCh1RCj5WqQtgzDDzJk3dWLOfIC3j04AOOAusztAP0pzxXvDHnwCuOWl8UgjMMNQZI1LV2SX5TV1XNbh1xWn6qQI/s1600/DeathWatTyler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="682" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOnwOHxmC1_rShG0xo9GEnzH91pR-d2GtALEHd8JM3bvME9vOY9-rCh1RCj5WqQtgzDDzJk3dWLOfIC3j04AOOAusztAP0pzxXvDHnwCuOWl8UgjMMNQZI1LV2SX5TV1XNbh1xWn6qQI/s320/DeathWatTyler.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Death of Wat Tyler: Library Royal MS 18.E.i-ii f. 175</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
By the Parliament of 1380, the Commons were up against the wall. The government under the new Chancellor Sudbury was desperate for money. In France, the earl of Buckingham had squandered the money raised from the last Poll Tax; the army was a half year in arrears; Gaunt needed money in Scotland; the coast needed to be protected against invasion; and the wool subsidy was not producing any funds because of a riot in Flanders. They needed £160,000 to make ends meet, including—unknown to the Commons—about £60,000 for Gaunt’s proposed Castile campaign. Impossible! After much discussion, the commons agreed to grant £100,000 if the rest was raised by the clergy, and it was decided a third poll tax would be put in place.<br />
<br />
Unlike the second Poll Tax, which didn’t raise enough money, this one would demand three groats per person (the first poll tax was one groat), again on a sliding scale, though this time no specifics were outlined: “the sufficient shall (according to their means) aid the lesser…” (RB Dobson). This may have worked in the towns where a great landowner happened to reside (as long as the landowner helped out), but in the areas where there were no wealthy residents, the poorest households faced the most onerous burden. No one was happy. Since the tax was collected based on the population of a town or shire, here is where the infamous evasion was practiced all over the country: the population numbers between 1377 and 1381 suddenly dropped—on paper. For instance, Kent went from 56,557 to 43,838; Somerset fell from 54,604 to 30,384. Try Cumberland, that went from 11,841 to 4,748 and Devon, that fell from 45,635 to 20,656. Taken as a whole, “the adult population of the realm has ostensibly fallen from 1,355,201 to 896,481 persons” (Oman, The Great Revolt of 1381). It seems that many quit counting unmarried daughters, widowed mothers, etc. Or who knows? It soon became obvious that all was not as it should be!<br />
<br />
So the government appointed new commissioners in March, 1381 to investigate the widespread tax evasion. Commissioners were hard to find, for this was a task bound for trouble. But they were reportedly allowed to keep the profits raised above and beyond their quota, so ambitious men came forward, each accompanied by two sergeants-at-arms to provide additional persuasion. Not only were they bitterly resented, for the people declared they had already paid their taxes, but ugly rumors abounded about their methods. It was even said that one commissioner lifted girls’ skirts to test whether they were virgins or not! Huh? Maybe he was looking for pubic hair? By the end of May, resentment had reached the boiling point.<br />
<br />
It wasn’t an accident that when Sir John de Bampton came to Brentwood to start his commission in Essex, there was a crowd of about 100 waiting for him from the surrounding towns. They were angry, rudely armed, and ready for resistance. Bampton ordered his sergeants to make some arrests, the mob promptly attacked, stoning and beating the offenders until they headed back to London, their proverbial tail between their legs. And so started the Great Revolt.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-2892765304214058882017-05-24T09:18:00.002-07:002017-05-24T09:18:38.728-07:00The Poll Tax, Part One: The Cupboard is Bare<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsEcopRSYOIamJtFWye3RJ6Nw235wIq_RzecPpH2tz8EEOGsvAFMQVS6Isxg8xLtg_MpqGP32Wi5DHqQlIwL1Q366GlvzMju7U_5kZBtSCHIANFOUC7o15jdLAcHyZ3O8lh80PxH1IWc/s1600/PollTax.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1600" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsEcopRSYOIamJtFWye3RJ6Nw235wIq_RzecPpH2tz8EEOGsvAFMQVS6Isxg8xLtg_MpqGP32Wi5DHqQlIwL1Q366GlvzMju7U_5kZBtSCHIANFOUC7o15jdLAcHyZ3O8lh80PxH1IWc/s320/PollTax.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>National Archives (catalogue reference: E 179/155/94)</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Although the poll tax was said to have been used all the back to ancient times, it’s most widely remembered in relation to the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381. According to Wikipedia: “<em>The word ‘poll’ is an archaic term for ‘head’ or ‘top of the head’. The sense of ‘counting heads’ is found in phrases like polling place and opinion poll.” </em>Well, that answers my question as to whether our current use of the word relates to its original use. Apparently so. But how did it set off the greatest rebellion of the middle ages and nearly bring down the monarchy?<br /><BR>
From what I can gather, it was widely believed that the infamous Poll Tax was the first of its kind in Medieval England. In reality, there were three Poll Taxes between 1377-1381—each with its own experimental application, and each imposed to cover a shortfall caused by continual losses in the French wars. It could also be said the need for more taxes should be laid at the feet of inept and possibly corrupt royal ministers. Money was wasted shamefully in the early years of Richard II’s reign.<br /><BR>
Ever since 1334, taxes were raised by the standard subsidy called “tenths and fifteenths”, which meant one tenth of the value of personal properties—called movables—for lay persons in cities, boroughs and royal demesne lands, and one fifteenth for rural counties. It was easier to tax the local community as a whole and leave it to the inhabitants to sort out the distribution. But by 1377, the government’s financial crisis was such that a new system of taxation had to be devised by Parliament, and they finally settled on the first Poll Tax, which would require a groat—or four pence—from each and every lay person over the age of 14, with the exception of public beggars. (The churchmen were taxed too, on a slightly different scale.) A simple laborer might earn three pence in a day and a skilled workman could earn five pence, so the tax was not too onerous except for the fact the poor man’s burden was much higher proportionally than a wealthy man. Nonetheless, the first Poll Tax was considered a success—raising £22,580 from the laity alone—and it temporarily eased the pressure. But not for long.<br /><BR>
In 1379, England was in a panic because of a threatened invasion from France. Once again, the commons in Parliament decided to impose a second Poll Tax—this one to be implemented on a sliding scale, depending on the person’s rank. Here’s a sample from the thirty-three separate categories, drawn from RB Dobson’s <em>The Peasants’ Revolt of 1381</em>:<br /> – The Dukes of Lancaster and Brittany, each: 10 marks (i.e. £6 13<em>s</em> 4<em>d</em>)<br /> – Each earl of England: £4<br /> – Each baron and banneret or knight who is able to spend as much as a baron: 40<em>s</em><br /> – Each squire not in possession of land, rents or castles, who is in service or in arms: 40<em>d</em><br /> – Each sergeant and great apprentice of the law: 40<em>s</em><br /> – Other apprentices who follow the law, each: 20<em>s</em><br /> – All other apprentices of lesser estate, and attorneys, each: 6<em>s</em> 8<em>d</em><br /> – Each alderman of London is to pay, like a baron: 40<em>s</em><br /> – All the municipal officers of large towns and the great merchants of the kingdom are to pay, like a knight: 20<em>s</em><br /> – Farmers of manors and parsonages, and great merchants dealing in stock and other lesser trade, according to their estate: 6s 8d<br /> – Each married man, for himself and his wife if they do not belong to the estates above and are over the age of 16 years, genuine beggars excepted, is to pay: 4<em>d</em><br /> – Each foreign merchant of whatever condition is to pay according to his estate like the others above: 20<em>s</em>, or 6s 8<em>d</em><br /><BR>
This seemed more fair than a straight head count, but it ended up a miserable failure (blamed again on corrupt administration). It garnered about £22,000, half of what was expected “at a time when the half-year’s wages of English troops on an ill-fated Breton expedition exceeded £50,000” (Dobson, p.111). The money was gone in a heartbeat, the fleet languished in port before sailing late in the year only to be wrecked by storms, and the Scots were causing trouble on the border. The king’s jewels had already been hocked, the treasury was empty. According to Juliet Barker in <em>1381</em>, <em>The Year of the Peasants’ Revolt</em>, “Over a quarter of a million pounds had now been spent on the war in the two and a half years since Richard’s accession—yet there was virtually nothing to show for it.” Chancellor Scrope was obliged to resign in disgrace. Even though the ministers promised they wouldn’t call Parliament again for eighteen months, everyone knew they would have to renege.<br /><BR>
Simon Sudbury, Archbishop of Canterbury was created new Chancellor, which proved to be the worst thing that could ever have happened to him. The poor man may have been a brilliant scholar and a devoted churchman, but he was most certainly not cut out to be a good administrator, which would be proven when they introduced the third, and most catastrophic Poll Tax in 1381. (Part Two)<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-76439208406767879432017-04-11T07:42:00.000-07:002017-04-11T07:42:51.214-07:00Great Seal, Privy Seal, and Signet: What’s the difference?<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ToSTy01brC_Pq3hGhDDUN8m8D4hxzQ-Y8dd0dLTqR3mlJwhNCyhoJyKW0nElIRLUEhgINUTBkOqyzY9oPFQFvW3gWRYbs3kPCmJTMqpi9Et_MAYnJKAgKWKZ1ObUj29jt6YWYX1JtXU/s1600/GreatSealRichardII.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ToSTy01brC_Pq3hGhDDUN8m8D4hxzQ-Y8dd0dLTqR3mlJwhNCyhoJyKW0nElIRLUEhgINUTBkOqyzY9oPFQFvW3gWRYbs3kPCmJTMqpi9Et_MAYnJKAgKWKZ1ObUj29jt6YWYX1JtXU/s320/GreatSealRichardII.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Great Seal of Richard II, After F. Sandford, A Genealogical history </i><br />
<i>of the kings and queens of England … (London, 1707)</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We know the Great Seal was an indispensable tool for keeping the
government running. Historians pay close attention to the use of the
Seal; not only does this help identify the time and reign of a particular warrant, but the use of lesser Seals helps us follow the
movements of our itinerant kings.<br />
<br />
Edward the Confessor is thought to have been the first English ruler
to use the Great Seal, and each successive medieval monarch remade the
design in his own image, to be stamped into wax. Charters, letters, and
writs required a seal to initiate legally binding orders; the clerks of
the <i>Chancery</i> wrote these orders, and the head of the <i>Chancery</i> was the <i>Chancellor</i>,
usually a Bishop. So the Chancellor was officially in charge of the
Great Seal and guarded it against improper use. In fact, counterfeiting
the Great Seal was a serious crime, defined as High Treason in the reign
of Edward III.<br />
<br />
In official use, there were three Seals (there were many other
seals—the Exchequer, Ecclesiastic Seals, Guild Seals; the list goes on
and on. I am only referencing the king and his Chancery). The Great Seal
was required for any state document, but if the king was traveling
around, he could use a Privy Seal—first employed by King John—to <i>move</i>
(or authenticate, or instruct) the Great Seal. Under the early
Plantagenets, the Privy Seal was under the custody of the Keeper of the
Wardrobe; this evolved into the Keeper of the Privy Seal. By 1312, the
Barons ensured that the Privy Seal clerk was appointed by the king in
Parliament and approved by them. Hence, the Privy Seal office became a
sort of second clearing-house for official documents. Eventually, almost
all non-judicial documents required a warrant from the Privy Seal
before it could pass under the Great Seal.<br />
<br />
Edward II, chafing at the strictures of Parliament, started using a
secret seal which eventually evolved as the Signet—the king’s personal
Seal—and was guarded by the king’s <i>Secretary (</i>precursor to the Secretary of State). In the early years, Richard II would use the Signet to <i>move</i> the Privy Seal, which would <i>move</i>
the Great Seal. But in 1383, Richard got the idea that he could bypass
the usual procedures, and he started using his Signet ring for
everything—circumventing the Privy Seal office altogether to communicate
instructions directly to the Chancery. Why did this matter? The Barons
interpreted Richard’s “abuse” of the Signet as an attempt to take
personal charge of government affairs, trying to shake off control of
his actions. He was even recorded ordering money from the treasury for
his personal use. In 1386, however, this came to a screeching halt when
Parliament ordered the reorganization of his administration and
impeached Michael de la Pole, his friend and his Chancellor. Richard was
forced to stop issuing Signet letters “to the damage of the Realm”, and
his use of the Signet fell off dramatically.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-16716018012970230552017-03-23T08:42:00.001-07:002017-03-23T08:42:31.207-07:00Non-native Species in Britain (for research)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfF29VjerGHHtA1UBbc6n_zRZf64vmz9T5jhFJozffegUm_LJdX6lHX7XDOqiUQbD5IyIIvSuAoMiHRw1kSmtlkJqYyycZmXOS0lr-KKNHHsO8QoTULtGq3atA05cJMp-eZ9u9qlX6hg4/s1600/VikingRabbit-244x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfF29VjerGHHtA1UBbc6n_zRZf64vmz9T5jhFJozffegUm_LJdX6lHX7XDOqiUQbD5IyIIvSuAoMiHRw1kSmtlkJqYyycZmXOS0lr-KKNHHsO8QoTULtGq3atA05cJMp-eZ9u9qlX6hg4/s320/VikingRabbit-244x300.jpg" width="260" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="wp-caption-dd">
<em>source: Photobucket.com</em></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When writing historical fiction, one little slip like giving King Alfred a tomato can wreak havoc with an author's credibility. The other day I was called to task for using a rabbit in Canute's Britain, because the reviewer said that rabbits were introduced by the Normans. Yikes! I was saved by the recent archeological discovery of 2000-year old rabbit bones in Norfolk, but just barely. According to an article in the <i><a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/1487787/Romans-introduced-the-rabbit.html" target="_blank">Telegraph</a></i>, "Years of division among academics over whether the Romans or the Normans introduced rabbits into Britain appears to have been resolved." OK, you get the idea. It's hard to research every little tidbit of information that could trip us up, but it put me to thinking. So I went onto Google and did a homely little search of my own about some of the more "obvious" non-native species in Britain; as an American, I admit this is not second nature to me! I'm certain my list is far from exhaustive, but I welcome any input that would enlighten the overburdened author.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>ANIMALS:</b></span><br />
<br />
CARP: The logical conclusion is that carp were imported some time during the 14th century, because after the (anonymous) Treatyse, references to the fish multiply, presumably reflecting what the carp were doing, thanks to the new craze for fish ponds. (see fishingmuseum.org.uk).<br />
<br />
DEER (CHINESE WATER): Chinese water deer were first kept at London Zoo in 1873 but escaped from Whipsnade Zoo in 1929. Numbers increased through introductions into deer parks and subsequent escapes and releases (see bds.org.uk).<br />
<br />
DEER (SIKA): Sika were introduced from the Far East into Britain in 1860. While several subspecies, including Chinese, Japanese, Formosan and Manchurian, were introduced into parks the only free-living form in Britain is the Japanese sika. (see bds.org.uk).<br />
<br />
EDIBLE DORMOUSE: In Roman times, they were fattened, stuffed and served as a delicacy . But the edible dormouse escaped from Lionel Walter Rothschild's private collection near Tring, Hertfordshire, in 1902. (see goo.gl/81U7Wg)
FERAL GOAT: They were brought here in Neolithic times (about 5000 BP) as domestic stock, derived from the Bezoar Capra aegagrus, a native of the Middle East (see nhsn.ncl.ac.uk).<br />
<br />
FERRET: The first reference to ferrets in England was 1223 when a ferreter was listed as part of the Royal Court. (see wessexferretclub.co.uk).<br />
<br />
GREY SQUIRREL: Grey squirrels (Scirius caroliniensis) are native to North America and were first released in the UK in 1876 in Henbury Park, Cheshire. It's not clear why they were introduced and the Victorians had no idea of the risks of introducing non-native species. (google).<br />
<br />
MINK: A widespread modern misconception is that the UK’s wild population of American Mink originated from mass releases of mink from fur farms by animal rights activists in the 1990s. Many people will remember these dramatic events for the sheer numbers of mink involved. In fact, the wild population was established decades earlier from multiple escapes (and perhaps deliberate releases) all over the country. (see gwct.org.uk).<br />
<br />
PARAKEET: Despite rumours they escaped from film studios during the filming of the African Queen, ring-necked parakeets actually arrived from India much earlier in 1855 (see goo.gl/l8mp0g).<br />
<br />
PARTRIDGE RED-LEGGED: The red-legged partridge (redleg) is not native to Britain, but was successfully introduced to East Anglia in about 1770, using stock from France. (see gwct.org.uk).<br />
<br />
PHEASANT (COMMON): As far as post-Romano Albion is concerned, the first documentary evidence of the pheasant’s existence, a starting point for the history ofthe pheasant, is an order of King Harold who offered the canons of Waltham Abbey a “commons” pheasant as an alternative to a brace of partridges as a specific privilege of their office in 1059. (Harold wasn't king then, but whatever...) (see thefield.co.uk).<br />
<br />
RABBIT: The Romans introduced rabbits. Marcus Terrentius Varro (116-27BC) wrote that the legions brought rabbits from Spain, where they were reared in walled enclosures and then served up as a gourmet dish. (see goo.gl/D8XQyW).<br />
<br />
RAINBOW TROUT are natives of North America and were been introduced to the UK in the 19th century.(from wildtrout.org).<br />
<br />
TURKEY: Turkeys are believed to have first been brought to Britain in 1526 by Yorkshireman William Strickland - he acquired six birds from American Indian traders on his travels and sold them for tuppence each in Bristol. (see britishturkey.co.uk).<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLANTS:</b></span><br />
<br />
APPLE: There is evidence that apples grew wild in Britain in the Neolithic period but it was the Romans who first introduced varieties with sweeter and greater taste. The earliest known mention of apples in England was by King Alfred in about 885 AD in his English translation of "Gregory's Pastoral Care". (see englishapplesandpears.co.uk).<br />
<br />
PEA: Before the end of the 16th century, botanists in Belgium, Germany, and England described many kinds of peas: tall and dwarf; with white, yellow and green seed colors; smooth, pitted and wrinkled seeds. By the 1560s Peas became a familiar Lenten dish in France and England. (See bestcookingpulses.com/history.php).<br />
<br />
PEAR: It is probable that pears were cultivated in Britain during the Roman occupation but the production of the fruit was slow to develop although there is mention in the Domesday Book of old pear trees as boundary markers. By the 13th century many varieties of pears had been imported from France and the fruit was used mainly for cooking rather than eating raw. (see englishapplesandpears.co.uk).<br />
<br />
POTATO: The potato arrived in England from Virginia, brought here by the colonists sent there in 1584 by Sir Walter Raleigh. They arrived back here in 1586 and Joseph Banks says that they probably brought the potato with them. (see suttonelms.org.uk/pot28.html).<br />
<br />
SPINACH: Spinach came to England and France in the 14th century from the Spain. It became very popular there because it grew in spring when there were no other vegetables in that period of history. (see vegetablefacts.net/).<br />
<br />
TOMATO: It was introduced in 1597, but it remained viewed as unhealthy, poisonous and unfit to eat in both England and its North American colonies. That changed in mid-18th century after many advances in selective breeding from Spain and Italy. (see vegetablefacts.net/).<br />
<br />
What did I miss? That was kind of fun!Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-38057113823342473712017-03-01T11:29:00.000-08:002017-03-01T11:29:26.794-08:00The English Manor Part 3: The Burden of the Serf<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigqDeoPC6TGs8kcMa_H1Xx4sPF3B2U4HIw0s3sePV7BB-OspXz-KLlxv1xA_vMxQJxYCcnj7XoddVDha9GgFGqiXItze4bNQD-Vn_edkqZWZHBL4ff1dY8t2caZBkN_GTMHtanMVscUR0/s1600/Reeve_and_Serfs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigqDeoPC6TGs8kcMa_H1Xx4sPF3B2U4HIw0s3sePV7BB-OspXz-KLlxv1xA_vMxQJxYCcnj7XoddVDha9GgFGqiXItze4bNQD-Vn_edkqZWZHBL4ff1dY8t2caZBkN_GTMHtanMVscUR0/s320/Reeve_and_Serfs.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="wp-caption-text">
Source: <em>British Library MS Royal 2.VII</em></div>
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The difference between the free and unfree peasant on the English Manor was dramatic. While all had to pay rent, for the most part the responsibilities ended there for the freeman, with the exception of a few boon days required by everyone during harvest time. The serf, on the other hand, was obliged to dig into his pouch again and again; his obligations were so numerous it’s amazing he had enough left over to live on. And, because he was bound to the land, technically the lord owned everything—even the clothes on his back. Also, his children were the lord’s property, which made it a problem if one of them wanted to marry someone from another manor. Compensation had to be paid, for the lord would be losing potential income.<br /><BR>
Here are the most common Obligations of the Serf:<br /> – Had to pay a yearly rent<br /> – Had to provide week-work (2-3 days a week or 3-5 days a week, depending on the season—and not always every week): ploughing, carrying, weeding, haying, cleaning, threshing, winnowing grain, trimming hedges, making fences, etc.<br /> – Had to provide boon-work along with the rest of the population of the manor at harvest time: extra hands were needed to bring in the harvest, and were usually given meals and drink on the longest work-days. Needless to say, the serf’s own harvest was secondary<br /> – Had to pay a yearly wood-penny for the privilege of gathering wood; he was not permitted to cut down any trees<br /> – Had to deliver a hen or eggs at set seasons to the manor house for the privilege of keeping poultry<br /> – When he sold an animal, he had to give the lord part of the purchase price<br /> – Had to pay a fee when giving his daughter (and sometimes son) in marriage (known as merchet fine)<br /> – Had to pay to let his son go away from the manor for education, or take holy orders<br /> – Could only have his grain ground at the lord’s mill; he had to give up about 1/20th for the lord’s profit<br /> – Could only bake his bread in the lord’s oven<br /> – Responsible for “Tallage at Will”, a tax arbitrarily imposed by the lord whenever he needed money; by 1300 it started to become more fixed and only once a year.<br /> – Responsible for “Heriot” to the lord, a kind of a death tax, where the survivor had to give up their best beast (I believe free peasants were often obliged to pay Heriot as well). Sometimes the widow additionally had to pay a “relief”, a cash sum allowing her to take over the holding (gersuma). At times, payment of Heriot left the widow so badly reduced in circumstances she didn’t have enough to survive on. That was too bad for her. I suppose she didn’t have much choice but find another husband. The widow usually retained a life interest in the lands held by her first husband; if she married again, the second husband gave up the holding at her death. The holding went to one of her children from the first marriage.<br /> – Responsible for “Mortuary” to the church, a death tax where the inheritor had to give up their second best beast (as long as the deceased owned three or more).<br /><BR>
According to Bennett, the imposition of all those fines and duties is what distinguished the serf’s servile status. As the author said in his <em>Life on the English Manor</em>, “although medieval England saw a large part of its population of servile condition, this state of affairs was not willingly assented to by the serfs themselves, and unceasing attempts were made by them to alleviate their condition.” As time went on (late 14th-early 15th century), it became easier for the villein to make a money rent in lieu of services. Manumission was the ideal way for a serf to gain his freedom. The exactions of the king, foreign wars, and the growing luxury of the aristocracy made the collection of annual rents more attractive to a landlord who was strapped for cash. But flight was not at all unusual if a man had no family to be concerned about; without a doubt he would be forced to leave everything behind. Where could he go? Some traveled far and started a new life on another manor, but many found refuge in the local town; sometimes the town was right next door to the manor. How could he resist? The towns increasingly were buying their own freedom and establishing themselves as boroughs, and the inhabitants were free by extension. This offered a temptation to the villein, for often the serf and his skills were welcomed and the town would offer its protection.<br /><BR>If a serf ran away, the lord of the manor was allowed four days to pursue and bring him back. But after four days, things got more difficult for the lord; Bennett tells us, “by then he (the villein) was <em>in possession libertatis—</em>in other words, he had a seisin of liberty—and the lord would have to seek the aid of the courts to get possession of him.” Apparently, the courts tended to be in favor of the peasant and proceedings were stacked against the lord: “The courts of the fourteenth century and later were making it more and more clear that serfdom was repugnant to the law of England…”. Furthermore, if the serf found refuge in a Chartered Town or Royal Demesne, as long as he made himself useful by joining a guild or becoming a burgess, and if he lived there for a year and a day, he was essentially free and could not be claimed by the lord. But he must stay within the borough walls or he could be apprehended. Mere residence wasn’t good enough; he had to be willing to “accept communal burdens, and wishes to be part of the borough and not a mere parasite upon it” (i.e. pay taxes, etc.).<br /><BR>
As I stated in <a href="http://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/?p=1411">Part 1</a> and <a href="http://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/?p=1422">Part 2</a>, conditions on the English manor varied widely from place to place, and the end of the manorial system did not come about all at once. The Black Death and subsequent reduction of available labor made a big impact on the peasants’ circumstances, regardless of the government’s efforts to hold them back. The Peasant’s Rebellion of 1381 certainly made them a force to be reckoned with; though they were severely put down afterwards, it seems this was the beginning of the end for the manorial system. In another hundred years, the serf was destined to be replaced by the tenant farmer and small landowner.<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-19086414154348487562017-02-15T08:02:00.002-08:002017-02-15T08:02:33.917-08:00The English Manor Part 2: The Free and the Unfree Peasants<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMpjbQO4m4CkvPNcqtIIarKAZ3f1sRKSHAfONUGQEIqxut0fxtZIoe4fWXpR87MSnugLKIO54fRg4ZenU1Jc5reb7yH7nHAEt3n11T9kr7rY4_hX00a1Qbb68Pbr8LNP3r4DUeMODgm2o/s1600/EnglishManor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMpjbQO4m4CkvPNcqtIIarKAZ3f1sRKSHAfONUGQEIqxut0fxtZIoe4fWXpR87MSnugLKIO54fRg4ZenU1Jc5reb7yH7nHAEt3n11T9kr7rY4_hX00a1Qbb68Pbr8LNP3r4DUeMODgm2o/s320/EnglishManor.jpg" width="206" /></a></div>
In <a href="http://historicalbritain.blogspot.com/2017/02/the-english-manor-part-1-land.html">Part 1</a> of The English Manor, I gave a broad generalization of the average manor components. In Part 2, I’m going to do my best to differentiate between the classes of manorial population: the free and the unfree. This is harder than it sounds! One of the reasons this subject is so complicated is that by no means was the manor system consistent across the country. The Custom of the Manor varied from lord to lord and from region to region. So anything we learn must be taken as a broad generalization. One thing we can safely assume is that the work load and financial burdens of the unfree peasant greatly outweighed those of his free companions.<br />
<br />
The working year was divided into two parts: Michaelmas (Sept 29) to August, where the Peasant would have to work 2-3 days a week (Week-work), then August to Michaelmas, where he had to work 3-5 days per week. Most of the labor fell on the unfree. During the harvest the peasant was required to give several extra days as his “boon” or “gift”, bringing all of his family to help. This was in addition to tending his own crops. Even the free peasant was required to give some boon-work on these crucial days, and the lord compensated them occasionally by offering meals and drink to the whole manor population.
<br />
<br />
The free and unfree status had little to do with how much land the peasant was holding. Sometimes the unfree held more land than the freeman; sometimes the freeman did paid work for the unfree. But the division between them was felt very strongly. Here is the manor population as best as I could define it:<br />
<br />
<b>STEWARD</b> (or Seneschal)
The Steward was at the head of the lord’s officials. He was a man of rank and often was in charge of more than one manor. He was the voice of the lord and presided over the Manor Courts. He would stay in the great house, usually in the absence of the lord. The Steward gave orders to the Bailiff.<br />
<br />
<b>FREEMAN</b> (Socage Tenants)
The freeman had to pay a yearly rent for his lands, but his obligations were not as onerous as the bondsman. At the top of this class you would have a Bailiff (usually brought in from the outside), who supervised the activities on the whole manor. Then you will see for the most part—but not always—a Hayward (or <i>messor</i>, to manage the sowing and gathering of the crops), a Meadsman (to look after the meadows), a Wood-Reeve, and the Beadle (or constable, policeman of the village).<br />
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The <i>Virgaters</i>, the “aristocracy” of the peasant class held 30+ acres of “full land” in the common fields. At harvest, they were obliged to act as overseers—riding about with white wands of office—provide carts and horses for carrying services, and provide their own plow. A lesser class of freemen held “fardels” or “furlongs” of 10 to 15 acres in the common fields. At harvest, they were allowed to combine their resources and put together a team of two or three (or more).<br />
<br />
Some freeman may only have held two or three acres, which probably wasn’t enough to support him. These smaller tenants may only have been able to bring their agricultural tools to task—in other words, live by their hands—but since their holdings were much smaller, so was their obligation. It is not at all uncommon for a poor freeman to hire out his services to an unfree villein who had more land than he could manage by himself.<br />
<br />
<b>UNFREE: BONDSMAN or SERF</b> (bound to the land): VILLEIN, COTTAR and SLAVES<br />
<i>Villeins</i>, top level of bondsman, had a heavier farming work-load than the cottars, for the villeins shared in the common fields. Typical size of a villein’s holding would be around 30 acres. A villein had the right to the hay crop and the lot meadows. The Reeve (official representative of the villeins and usually elected every year) almost always came from the villein ranks. He was in charge of the day-to-day activities. Although he was paid a small wage, his responsibilities were onerous and no one really wanted the job.<br />
<br />
<i>Cottars, Crofters</i> and “pytel-holders” held only one to five acres, or sometimes only the bare croft (garden) around their house. These small tenants did not share in the common fields, so their work load was lighter; they usually farmed a few strips in the arable fields. From time to time they were called upon to do a day’s work at the lord’s will: spreading dung, driving pigs to market, helping to repair walls and thatches, odd-jobs. Their duties were so light that they often could commute their work for money payments to the lord; that left them free to provide alternative labor for a wage to support themselves. From this class could come smiths, carpenters, weavers, masons, etc. The cottars were often drafted to be used on the manor as ploughmen, swineherds, carters, shepherds, etc.; sometimes they even resided on the Home-farm, given a wage and food allowance.<br />
<br />
<i>Slaves </i>were the smallest population on the manor, and usually lived in the outbuildings connected to the manor hall. They were not permitted to own any land and were obliged to do whatever the lord commanded. Although slave trade was officially abolished in England after 1102, we keep finding mention of them in the occasional document. Frankly, I couldn’t find any substantial information about slavery in Medieval England, so I’m pretty much at a loss.<br />
<br />
In part 3, I will be more specific as to the obligations of the bondsmen, who were the largest class on the manor. From H.S. Bennett, I gathered that a serf had every reason to want to gain his freedom. Once I saw what he was up against, I couldn’t really blame him.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-61050284210511710242017-02-02T11:20:00.001-08:002017-02-02T11:20:23.542-08:00The English Manor Part 1: The Land<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8zM4tKBIBfbiO0goL1U5w8kzGUcVUuG0RNweUTi6SQwkwvYCJRTmjvRDRS3ecCbiGh_J7loBfHXiEwwq-Fv89bu5gYi5FADlEmgcfIj7lXSB9eynY-O7Q-QYqrDKbUvlbArYXUHzefY/s1600/ManorMap.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8zM4tKBIBfbiO0goL1U5w8kzGUcVUuG0RNweUTi6SQwkwvYCJRTmjvRDRS3ecCbiGh_J7loBfHXiEwwq-Fv89bu5gYi5FADlEmgcfIj7lXSB9eynY-O7Q-QYqrDKbUvlbArYXUHzefY/s1600/ManorMap.jpg" /></a>I discovered this amazing map in Montague Fordham’s book, “A Short History of English Rural Life from the Anglo-Saxon Invasion to the Present Time” published in 1916. (It’s amazing what you will find on ForgottenBooks.com.) I’ve recently come to the conclusion that any study of the Middle Ages is incomplete without getting your hands around the concept of the English Manor—and I will be the first to admit that my knowledge is sparse! I’m not writing this article as an expert—merely as a student of history.<br><BR>
I was introduced to the complexity of this subject when I recently read the book “Life on the English Manor” written by H.S. Bennett and first published in 1937. This was a very difficult volume to plow through (so to speak), and I don’t think I did it justice. Having finished the book with great relief I immediately shoved it back onto my shelf, but I’ve been fretting over it ever since! So here I am again, and I am going to attempt to pull out the major points so I can get things straight in my own mind, supplemented by what I’ve learned from Fordham (of the map). After all, I’m currently researching the Peasant Rebellion in 1381, and guess what led up to it? It’s only 30 years away from the Black Death, and the peasants were still struggling against the impositions from their betters, trying to keep them from taking advantage of their improved situation. But for the most part, these articles will concern manors before 1350.<br><BR>
The smaller manors contained about 20-30 acres, though others included many villages; the Bishop of Winchester’s Manor of East Meon in Hampshire was 24,000 acres. But this is the exception. Apparently the average manor contained one village and was separated from the next manor by a broad stretch of woods or wasteland. Sometimes two manors split the same village in two. All manors contained a Home Farm (or Demesne), where you would find the hall and barns belonging to the lord; outside of this you would find a mill, a church, the priest’s house, then the village houses, and of course the fields. The lord would probably stay there a month or two during the year; the rest of the time, the bailiff or seneschal would reside at the hall.<br><BR>
To look at this map, we see that the arable common fields were divided into sections called furlongs, shots, or dells. Each furlong was subdivided into little strips, or selions, which were separated by unploughed ridges called baulks. These strips were usually 1/2 to an acre of land, belonging to the peasants (sometimes the lord held some strips as well). A peasant often held more than one strip but they were not contiguous; an example is shown by the black colored-in holdings all belonging to Jack Straw. He must go to the end of his strip and walk on the headlands—more unploughed baulks perpendicular to the furroughs—to get to his other strips of land; the headlands were also where he turned his plough. Presumably the planting was a communal activity, though nothing is really known for sure. Apparently the reason a peasant’s holdings were scattered was the continual division between relatives and children. Bennett gave us an example from the Norfolk manor of Martham: “the 68 tenants of Domesday time had increased by 1291 to 107—a not unnatural growth—but, quite unexpectedly, subdivision had progressed so enormously that the land formerly held by the 68 had been split up into no less than 935 holdings in some 2000 separate strips.” Keeping track must have been a challenge.<br><BR>
If a peasant was lucky, he was permitted to rent, on a yearly basis, a few-acre patch of uncultivated “waste” land, usually on the border of the forest. This was called his “assart”, and he could plant on it what he pleased; it was often a godsend if the man had extra mouths to feed. The wastes satisfied other needs as well; they were used for grazing, and if wooded they provided fuel and wood for farm implements and repairs. Commonly, the peasant was allowed to take wood off the ground or “by hook or by crook”—whatever he could knock off a standing tree.<br><BR>
As best as I can determine, the wastes and the common area around the village is where the animals grazed while the crops were growing. The Lammas Land, or Meadows as they were called, were held in common, guarded, fenced around the outside, and planted between Christmas and Lammas (Aug. 1). When the crop was harvested, the Lammas Land was thrown open for grazing to the community.<br><BR>
I will be following up with more on the English Manor as I sort it out. The most important thing I learned is that there was no consistency from region to region or even from manor to manor. As Bennett put it, if a village was divided up between two manors, “it was possible for two men to be living in the same village, and each holding the same amount of land; but, because they served different lords, they might find themselves very unevenly burdened with services and rents.” So, of necessity, anything we learn about the Manor can only be seen as representational of the medieval peasant’s life.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-80432847473833636112017-01-15T13:10:00.001-08:002017-01-15T13:10:08.561-08:00Moving forward into the High Middle Ages<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rCmzhq2DTGZg6ZZwen1JKQx6Gs-cBL1Kc-XuNPnui0fyNIHyeMDN8wrATnXkmehSvoI-qM8JvX14btmuKMhp_qsmbvDrnSvmfU107g_t5R6Qlj4k3FtMtdIlZLaRDDcr7pkVgIBY-M0/s1600/RichardII-BBC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rCmzhq2DTGZg6ZZwen1JKQx6Gs-cBL1Kc-XuNPnui0fyNIHyeMDN8wrATnXkmehSvoI-qM8JvX14btmuKMhp_qsmbvDrnSvmfU107g_t5R6Qlj4k3FtMtdIlZLaRDDcr7pkVgIBY-M0/s320/RichardII-BBC.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Richard II BBC</i></td></tr>
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After spending the last 20 some-odd-years studying the eleventh century, I’ve finally finished my fourth book in that era (FATAL RIVALRY) and I’m ready to move forward! Why not expand my blog as well? There are so many interesting topics in the high middle ages, I feel like I’ve been limiting myself up to now.<BR><BR>
So I’m happy to announce that my next book will be about Richard II. Way back in my college days, I was inspired by Shakespeare’s play, performed by Derek Jacobi for the BBC series in 1978. At the time I knew nothing at all about Richard, but the soliloquy at the end tugged at my heartstrings (naturally). I’ve carried him around with me ever since, and now I’m ready; of course, I have to start a new round of research. It’ll be fun to follow with blog entries concerning what I’ve discovered. And while I’m at it, I might as well talk about everything in-between. I do so love the Plantagenets! But I will continue to focus on England; otherwise, I’d have to rename this blog.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-64647676616714141862016-12-19T11:45:00.002-08:002016-12-19T11:45:30.194-08:00Yule Celebrations in the Nordic lands<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8XIYY5NQGzxzDWt-OpYH-10q7NUNq2ojw2vn7Ik7q2nELYzxXkc0jEtUomay7R5LOA29l4wVMWTVO9Hh7zTss0GbLm71xpBqFkuTXP0aaFN25xoPmOX3QVxgAvHzI5af4LqhKloYlvU/s1600/Odin_and_Sleipnir_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8XIYY5NQGzxzDWt-OpYH-10q7NUNq2ojw2vn7Ik7q2nELYzxXkc0jEtUomay7R5LOA29l4wVMWTVO9Hh7zTss0GbLm71xpBqFkuTXP0aaFN25xoPmOX3QVxgAvHzI5af4LqhKloYlvU/s320/Odin_and_Sleipnir_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="wp-caption-text">
<em>Sleipnir: detail from the Tjängvide Runestone</em></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">Yule celebrations are Pagan in origin and came from the Germanic countries. The celebrations were alive and well in the Nordic lands, and were most likely brought over to Anglo-Saxon England with the Viking settlers. Eventually, the midwinter celebrations merged with the Christian festival of Christmastide, better known as the 12 Days of Christmas. I think we would recognize much of their festivities, although some of them were dedicated to Odin!</span><br /><BR>
<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">Since the Yule (or Jul) took place after the Solstice, the shortest day of the year, there is a certain element of celebrating the return of the light. But it was also thought that in this time of year, the spirits of the dead most commonly crossed over into the human realm. It is thought that many of the Yuletide customs were an attempt to protect the household against hostile supernatural influences. On the other hand, it is also said that ancestors come back during this season, and sometimes food was left out for them so they would help promote a good harvest the following year. </span><br /><BR>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Then we have the Yule Log. The largest ash or oak log was brought inside so that ritual runes could be carved onto it, calling on the gods to protect one and all from ill-fortune. Burning the Yule log was thought to</span></span> <span style="font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">give power to the sun and bring warmth again to the land. The carved log was sprinkled with mead and decorated with dry sprigs of pine and cones and as it was lit, musicians plucked the strings of their harps and started the singing</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">. </span><br /><BR>
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Outside, evergreens would be decorated with small lanterns and candles, plus crackers, little carved statues of gods, pieces of dried fruit, and even berries strung together. A huge bonfire was lit, reportedly to dispel any evil that was marching abroad. There was dancing around and through the bonfire, especially among the youngsters.</span></span><br /><BR>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">One night stood out from the others. This is when the children filled their shoes with straw, carrots and sugar lumps and set them out by the fire to feed Odin’s flying eight-legged horse Sleipnir as the God led the Wild Hunt—the host of the restless dead—through the darkness. In return, Odin would leave the children small gifts and sweets as a reward.</span></span><br /><BR>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The traditional food of the Yule was Boar</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">, </span><span style="font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">an animal sacred to Freyr, the Norse God of Yule and fertility. This is probably the origin of the Boar’s Head presented at later Christmas feasts. It is said that the time of “great eating and drinking” only lasted about three days, although the Yule celebrations lasted two to three weeks. </span></span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-16710142168660825402016-11-17T07:39:00.001-08:002016-11-17T07:39:25.352-08:00Death of William the Conqueror<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzz5lCC6fhecOQDJ8HWWYrYZ00uqdHLsa4cUp-6zeLzwrUeXf8EKGcBvOndSvtvudNUIEgn_eVFzm9GQHzZT7jeFE8wwKeXXGBEP_ipkreZ16rLY1E9MCDYMqzKmlUtneJyzWMtEhSHLQ/s1600/DeathofWilliam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzz5lCC6fhecOQDJ8HWWYrYZ00uqdHLsa4cUp-6zeLzwrUeXf8EKGcBvOndSvtvudNUIEgn_eVFzm9GQHzZT7jeFE8wwKeXXGBEP_ipkreZ16rLY1E9MCDYMqzKmlUtneJyzWMtEhSHLQ/s400/DeathofWilliam.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The Death of William The Conqueror Engraving By J Gilbert <br />published in The Illustrated London News</em></td></tr>
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William the Conqueror was not likely to be a person who mellowed-out
in his final days. His temper was still quick to anger and he did not
hesitate to lay waste to his enemies’ lands at the slightest
provocation. He had become excessively fat, and it was said that his
antagonist King Philip of France made an insulting comment about
William’s bulk that enraged the Norman, who swore to take revenge. And
he did.<br />
<br />
In England, the year 1087 was full of famine, pestilence and fire.
On the continent, William added his own devastation to the Vexin (the
border between France and Normandy) and took especial aim at the town of
Mantes, which he destroyed totally. On August 15, as he was encouraging
his men to throw more wood on the flames, his horse stumbled, throwing
William hard against his saddle pommel.<br />
<br />
The injury turned out to be mortal. Reeling from shock, William was
removed to nearby Rouen where he was housed in the priory of Saint
Gervase. There he lingered for several weeks in sickness and pain
surrounded by the Bishops and Abbots of the land, and according to
Orderic he repented of his evil ways and even admitted that he had
wrongly invaded England. He is said to have especially regretted the <a href="http://mercedesrochelle.com/wordpress/?p=245" target="_blank" title="Great Harrying of the North 1069">Great Harrying of the North</a>.<br />
<br />
On a Thursday morning in September, William breathed his last.
Already, his heir William Rufus and younger brother Henry were already
gone, on their way to claim their own—William the crown and Henry his
5000 pounds. As William expired, the remaining prelates and nobles
scattered to the four winds, intent on protecting their homes and
possessions. All feared the anarchy that would inevitably settle on the
land until law could be reestablished. Once the coast was clear, even
William’s servants set about stripping the body and the room of all its
trappings, so that the corpse was left practically naked and all alone
on the floor of his chamber for a whole day.<br />
<br />
Finally, a single rustic knight by the name of Herlwin volunteered to
take charge of collecting, washing and preparing the body for its
funeral—at his own cost. As they brought William’s corpse through Rouen
and thence to Caen, the funeral cortege was swelled by local prelates
and laymen, who brought the body to the Abbey of St. Stephen. But even
then William was not allowed to proceed in peace; just as happened on
his coronation day, a fire broke out in a nearby house and many of the
attendees ran off to fight the blaze as it spread through the town.<br />
<br />
And that was not the end of William’s indignities. When the bier was
brought into the church, a local knight rose up and asserted that
William had stolen the land from his family to build this church, and he
forbid that “the body of the robber be covered with my mould, or that
he be buried within the bounds of my interitance” (Orderic). His
statement raised a great tumult, until finally William’s youngest son
Henry and the prelates in attendance agreed to pay the knight 60
shillings for the seven feet of ground to lay the coffin, and
furthermore to pledge the purchase-price of the whole estate, which they
later paid.<br />
<br />
Once the disturbance was over, they proceeded to move the body to the
stone coffin, only to discover that the coffin was too small! There
was no recourse except to stuff the awesome bulk into the stone box.
But the process proved too much for the flesh and the body burst apart,
filling the cathedral with such a stench that they rushed through the
rest of the ceremony. And so the great king was left to spend his
eternity alone and abandoned, but certainly never forgotten.Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-48142256615169584962016-11-06T12:19:00.001-08:002016-11-06T12:20:19.311-08:00In the Days After Hastings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6L5bOlDP3HicNg89ZPPDi0J1WQuEW23iYJA9prQpCLomE_PhvpZO7a1T36FJWvrvF4alBpZulSCcyTo755J2sZJaS9EG1IRTRIRFZL9OKz2RlklyL0yCtgOoGTRzkAfFNn_0Q3zfihJU/s1600/William_the_Conqueror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6L5bOlDP3HicNg89ZPPDi0J1WQuEW23iYJA9prQpCLomE_PhvpZO7a1T36FJWvrvF4alBpZulSCcyTo755J2sZJaS9EG1IRTRIRFZL9OKz2RlklyL0yCtgOoGTRzkAfFNn_0Q3zfihJU/s200/William_the_Conqueror.jpg" width="158" /></a>It was said that after the great Battle, William the Conqueror retired to Hastings and awaited the submission of the English people. None was forthcoming. Was he surprised, I wonder? After all, England had been subjected to Danish invasions the last couple of centuries, winning and losing battle after battle. Of course, they had not lost their king during one of those battles, but electing another king was only a matter of time. Apparently—at least initially—no one had any intention of recognizing the usurper. Of course, this was destined to change.<br />
<br />
But not yet. With a few days after Harold’s death (I can’t find an exact date), a hastily-assembled Witan elected Eadgar Aetheling as king; he was the last surviving heir of the Royal house of Cedric of Wessex though still in his early teens. Eadgar was not crowned, presumably because this event always coincided with a high religious holiday and the next appropriate date would not occur until Christmas. Historian Edward A. Freeman suggested that Edwin and Morcar put themselves forward as likely candidates but received no support. They duly consented to Eadgar’s election, then went back home with their levies, “and left Eadgar and England to their fate”. Freeman’s judgment was harsh: “The patriotic zeal of the men of London was thwarted by the base secession of the Northern traitors. By their act all was lost.” Divided, England could not stand up to the might of the Norman invader.<br />
<br />
William waited at Hastings for five days then resolved to secure the southeast portion of England before advancing on London. He marched along the coast, plundering his way to strike terror in his conquered people. He took especial revenge on Romney who had the audacity to attack some of his men before the great Battle. William then advanced to Dover which surrendered without a blow. Had the garrison already been killed at Hastings? It is said that William intended to spare the city because of its submission but that some of his unruly soldiers plundered anyway, setting fire to many houses. William brought his men under control and even compensated the homeowners for their losses. He spent eight days at Dover and left his wounded there to recover.<br />
<br />
The Conqueror’s violence to the resistors and leniency to towns surrendering along the way served its purpose in Kent; even the city of Canterbury met the Duke on the road with hostages and tribute. This was on October 29. Interestingly, two days later, he pitched camp nearby in a neighborhood called the Broken Tower and stayed there for a month, for he was stricken down with a serious illness. This didn’t stop him from sending messengers to Winchester where Queen Editha had taken refuge, offering to leave them alone as long as they submitted to his rule (along with tribute, of course). Editha consulted with the city fathers and together they agreed to William’s terms. For all intents and purposes, the south was in William’s hands.<br />
<br />
He now turned his attention to London; the last vestiges of resistance were strong there. Initially he sent forward a small contingent of 500 knights, who were met south of the Thames by a stout company of Londoners. A skirmish took place that sent the citizens retreating back inside the walls of the city; at this, the soldiers set fire to Southwark. But William was not minded to attack London yet; rather, he struck west along the southern bank of the Thames, harrying Surrey, Hampshire, and Berkshire until he reached Wallingford, which offered a bridge and a ford across the river. Unchallenged, William crossed and continued north, intent on creating a circle of desolation around London. Although this was not a formal siege, it was beginning to have the trappings of one.<br />
<br />
By the time William reached Berkhampstead, apparently the English were demoralized. An embassy led by none other than Eadgar Aetheling himself, accompanied by Archbishops Ealdred and probably Stigand (as well as many of the chiefest men from London and southern England) came and did homage to William. Prepared to be merciful, the Conqueror received them graciously and gave Eadgar the kiss of peace. As Freeman reminds us: “It was the chance shot of an arrow which had overcome the English King, but it was William’s own policy which had overcome the English people.” And so it began.<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3808376426308070544.post-32028076271308193572016-09-16T09:45:00.000-07:002016-09-16T09:45:25.748-07:00Harold Marches to York, September 1066<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlMumgiflJqjvYOMSqvnIv1pB0cq4wbRQRZ2RNpiJ5qWjhhmUZNqnUhD5OrCdwULuFrAhBA1VJ-KOxZAOrNFV-tURwE65gtY4sccX4C8jMym2L3Nu_pZ8s82mlv3iNVzLPTA0qmCozL8/s1600/Stamford_by_Peter_Nicolai_Arbo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlMumgiflJqjvYOMSqvnIv1pB0cq4wbRQRZ2RNpiJ5qWjhhmUZNqnUhD5OrCdwULuFrAhBA1VJ-KOxZAOrNFV-tURwE65gtY4sccX4C8jMym2L3Nu_pZ8s82mlv3iNVzLPTA0qmCozL8/s400/Stamford_by_Peter_Nicolai_Arbo.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stamford Bridge by Peter Nicolai Arbo <i>(Wikipedia)</i></td></tr>
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While working on my latest novel, FATAL RIVALRY, I have had quite
a struggle putting together a timeline for events leading up to Stamford
Bridge. Many histories (even Wikipedia) tell us that as soon as Harold
learned of the defeat at Fulford, he rushed north and surprised the
Vikings who expected him to be at the other end of the country. OK, I
understand the surprise part. But really, Fulford was fought on
September 20 and Stamford Bridge was fought on Sept. 25. Even if Harold
and his mounted army were able to do 50 miles a day (unlikely, though I
suppose not impossible), this would be predicated on having an army
standing by, ready to go. Oh, and how about hearing the news in the
first place? Someone had to travel the 190 miles or so from Fulford to
London so Harold could get the message. Already that doubles the time he
would have required, and what are the odds a messenger would push
himself to do 50 miles per day?<br />
<br />
There’s little doubt Harold would have set out shortly after he heard
the alarming news. Presumably he would have started the march with his
housecarls, who were the closest to a standing army available—it has
been suggested he had 3000 at hand. He is said to have gathered forces
as he rode north, which again must have taken time for they had to
be notified and given a chance to prepare themselves—then travel a
distance to meet Harold on the march. We don’t know how big the English
army was—somewhere between 8,000-15,000 men—but this is one big
logistical task in an age when communication was slow and unreliable.
Yes, Harold’s march to York was certainly noteworthy, but I don’t think
he was a miracle worker! (Even historian Edward A. Freeman was not
prepared to accept the five day forced-march saga.)<br />
<br />
Cooler heads have sorted out a more reasonable scenario. Harald
Hardrada met his first major resistance in Northumbria at Scarborough,
which would have been probably the first week of September. Presumably
someone would have ridden south at that point, to notify the king of the
Viking raids. Meanwhile, we know Harold disbanded the fyrd on September
8 according to the A.S. Chronicle, because “the men’s provisions had
run out, and no one could keep them there <i>(on the south coast)</i>
any longer”. The timing would be such that Harold could have received
the news about Hardrada shortly after he returned to London. He
certainly needed some time to prepare for a new campaign and wait for
his mounted thegns to come back. So it stands to reason that he might
have started his march north some time between Sept. 12-16, which would
have given him 9-13 days to reach Stamford Bridge. Undoubtedly he
learned about Fulford along the way, which would have spurred him on to
greater efforts.<br />
<br />
On September 24, four days after the Battle at Fulford, Harold
arrived at Tadcaster with his exhausted troops. This town was upriver
from Riccall where Hardrada had spread out his 300 ships (beyond a fork
where the Wharfe meets the Ouse). It is believed that the Northumbrians
withdrew their little fleet to Tadcaster when the Norwegians approached,
since they were no match for the invaders. Harold spent the night at
Tadcaster and started early in the morning to York, approximately ten
miles away. By now he probably learned of Hardrada’s arrangement to wait
for hostages at Stamford Bridge. It goes far to suggest that the
northerners accepted Harold as their rightful king, for no one sought to
warn the Norwegians of the royal army’s approach.<br />
<br />
York may have surrendered to Hardrada, but it was apparently lightly
guarded by the Norwegians—if at all. Harold made an unhindered entry
into the city, acclaimed by the grateful inhabitants who must have felt
doubly relieved that they had not been plundered. He marched his army
through York and continued east another eight miles to Stamford Bridge.
This means his army covered 18 miles that day before engaging the enemy.
No rest for the weary!Mercedes Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02948823725734107670noreply@blogger.com0