Fourteenth Century England IV (v. 4)

FOURTEENTH CENTURY ENGLAND IV

The essays in this volume present new research on diverse aspects of the politics and culture of fourteenth-century England, including religious culture and institutions as illustrated in the cult of Thomas of Lancaster, preaching to women in the later fourteenth century, and in the Church’s response to a royal fundraising campaign; detailed examinations of prominent and less prominent individuals – Bishop Thomas Hatfield, Agnes Maltravers, and Lord Thomas Despenser – are balanced by examinations of broader policy issues, particularly the dispensation of justice in the reign of Richard II, with two examinations of aspects of his use of the royal pardon, a detailed consideration of prosecutions under the statutes of provisors and praemunire, and an examination of the cultural milieu of ‘mirrors for princes’. Finally, the intersection of environmental, political, and economic issues is approached from two very different perspectives, the development of royal landscapes and of the late medieval coal industry. J. S. HAMILTON is Professor and Chair of History at Baylor University.

Fourteenth Century England ISSN 1471–3020 General Editors Chris Given-Wilson J. S. Hamilton W. M. Ormrod Nigel Saul The series aims to provide a forum for the most recent research into the political, social, economic, ecclesiastical and cultural history of the fourteenth century in England. Contributions are currently being invited for the next volume, which will appear in 2008; draft submissions should be sent by June 2007 to Professor Nigel Saul at the following address: Department of History Royal Holloway, University of London Egham Surrey TW20 0EX

FOURTEENTH CENTURY ENGLAND IV

Edited by J. S. Hamilton

THE BOYDELL PRESS

© Contributors 2006 All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owner First published 2006 The Boydell Press, Woodbridge ISBN 1 84383 220 8

The Boydell Press is an imprint of Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge, Suffolk IP12 3DF, UK and of Boydell & Brewer Inc. 668 Mt Hope Avenue, Rochester, NY 14620, USA website: www.boydellandbrewer.com A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Disclaimer: This publication is printed on acid-free paper Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. Printed in Great Britain by version of this book. To view these images please refer to the printed Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham, Wiltshire

CONTENTS List of Illustrations

vi

Contributors Preface

viii ix

Abbreviations

xi

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster? New Manuscript Evidence John T. McQuillen

1

‘Hedging, Ditching and Other Improper Occupations’: Royal Landscapes and their Meaning under Edward II and Edward III Amanda Richardson Paying for the Wedding: Edward III as Fundraiser, 1332–3 A. K. McHardy The Politics of Privilege: Thomas Hatfield and the Palatinate of Durham, 1345–81 Christian D. Liddy Agnes Maltravers (d. 1375) and her Husband John (d. 1364): Rebel Wives, Separate Lives, and Conjugal Visits in Later Medieval England J. S. Bothwell Gendering Pastoral Care: John Mirk and his Instructions for Parish Priests Beth Allison Barr Prosecution of the Statutes of Provisors and Premunire in the King’s Bench, 1377–1394 Diane Martin ‘Mercy and Truth Preserve the King’: Richard II’s Use of the Royal Pardon in 1397 and 1398 Helen Lacey Aliens in the Pardons of Richard II John L. Leland ‘Too Flattering Sweet to be Substantial’? The Last Months of Thomas, Lord Despenser Martyn Lawrence ‘O Prince, Desyre to be Honourable’: The Deposition of Richard II and Mirrors for Princes Ulrike Graßnick Regional Politics, Landed Society and the Coal Industry in North-East England, 1350–1430 Mark Arvanigian

26

43 61

80

93 109

124

136 146

159

175

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view these images please refer to the printed version of this book.

ILLUSTRATIONS Who was St Thomas of Lancaster? Plate 1 Dallas, Bridwell Library MS 13, fol. 17r: Matins of the Virgin. Copyright, the Bridwell Library, Southern Methodist University, Dallas Plate 2 Dallas, Bridwell Library MS 13, fols 141v–142r: the opening of the prayer to St Thomas of Canterbury. Copyright, the Bridwell Library, Southern Methodist University, Dallas Plate 3 London, British Library, MS Add. 36684, fols 43v–44r: Terce of the Virgin. Copyright, the British Library Plate 4 Dallas, Bridwell Library MS 13, fols 2v–3r: Thomas of Lancaster Suffrage. Copyright, the Bridwell Library, Southern Methodist University, Dallas Plate 5 London, British Library, MS. Add. 42130, fols 55v–56r: Psalm 29, including execution scene. Copyright, the British Library Plate 6 Execution detail from Plate 5 Plate 7 Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Douce 231, fol. 1r: Thomas of Lancaster and St George. Copyright the Bodleian Library Plate 8 South Newington, church of St Peter ad Vincula: execution of St Thomas à Becket. Copy of wall painting by E. W. Tristram. By kind permission of the Victoria and Albert Museum Plate 9 South Newington, church of St Peter ad Vincula: execution of Thomas of Lancaster. By permission of the Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art Plate 10 London, British Museum, 1954, 5–2, 1: Thomas of Lancast er devotional plaque. Copyright the Trustees of the British Museum Plate 11 London, British Museum, 1984, 5–5, 2: Thomas of Lancast er pilgrim badge. Copyright the Trustees of the British Museum

4 6 7 9 14 14 15 17 18 20 21

‘Hedging, Ditching and Other Improper Occupations’ Fig. 1 Fig. 2 Fig. 3 Fig. 4 Fig. 5 Fig. 6

Clarendon Park, map showing aspects of its economy Map showing Clarendon Forest and Park, c.1327, in local geographical context Chart: deer taken from Clarendon Park, 1205–1375 Chart: deer taken from Clarendon Forest, 1205–1375 Reconstruction map of the late-medieval deer park at Clarendon Chart: recorded expenditure on Clarendon Park pale

28 30 34 34 36 39

List of Illustrations

vii

Prosecution of the Statutes of Provisors and Premunire Map 1 Fig. 1 Fig. 2

Distribution of provisors and premunire cases among dioceses from the king’s bench, 1377–1394 Titles of provisor and premunire defendants from the king’s bench, 1376–1394 Type of benefice under dispute in provisors and premunire cases from the king’s bench, 1376–1394

114 116 118

‘Too Flattering Sweet to be Substantial’? Plate 1 Richard II and Art MacMurrough, king of Leinster (1399), BL MS Harley 1319, fol. 9

150

CONTRIBUTORS Mark Arvanigian

California State University, Fresno

Beth Allison Barr

Baylor University

J. S. Bothwell

University of Leicester

Ulrike Graßnick

Universität Trier

Helen Lacey

University of Durham

John L. Leland

Salem International University

Martyn Lawrence

Borthwick Institute, University of York

Christian D. Liddy

University of Durham

Diane Martin

Houston Baptist University

A. K. McHardy

University of Nottingham

John T. McQuillen

Southern Methodist University

Amanda Richardson

University of Chichester

PREFACE Initiated in 2000 and now in its fourth volume, Fourteenth Century England has proved a success in fulfilling its purpose: to publish biennially a representative sample of recent and innovative work on the history of the fourteenth century, with particular emphasis on politics and the political culture of England. It is organised under the co-editorship of Nigel Saul (Royal Holloway, University of London), Chris Given-Wilson (University of St Andrews), Mark Ormrod (University of York) and Jeff Hamilton (Baylor University). Fourteenth Century England is not the product of a specific conference, although it continues to derive some of its contributions from the sessions held annually at the International Congress on Medieval Studies, Western Michigan University, and the International Medieval Congress, University of Leeds. Certainly the sessions of the Society of the White Hart, founded by the late James L. Gillespie (in Kalamazoo), and the sessions of the Society for Fourteenth-Century Studies, organized by the editors of this journal (in Leeds), provide stimulating forums for the presentation and discussion of new research. Readers of this journal are encouraged to attend and participate in these meetings, although, again, contributions to the journal are in no way limited to participants of these, or other, conferences focusing on the fourteenth century. Volume IV of Fourteenth Century England, like its predecessors, is not limited to a single theme, but rather represents the diversity of current scholarship, both in terms of subject and of methodology. John McQuillen, Alison McHardy, Beth Barr and Diane Martin are each concerned with the institutions and practice of religion, but the sources and methodological approaches they employ lead them to very different observations of the fourteenth-century experience. Amanda Richardson explores the relatively new field of landscape history, in the process demonstrating new applications for traditional types of documentary evidence. Biographical and prosopographical approaches are well represented in the articles by Alison McHardy, Christian Liddy, James Bothwell, John Leland and Martyn Lawrence. Another area that receives considerable attention in this volume is the application of the law. The use, or abuse, of the royal pardon in the reign of Richard is studied by both Helen Lacey and John Leland, while Diane Martin examines enforcement of the statutes of provisors and premunire in the same reign. Related concerns with the provision of justice are addressed from a more literary and social perspective in the article by Ulrike Graßnick. Finally, Mark Arvanigian uses economic data to examine politics in the North-East from a fresh perspective. The editorial board would once again like to thank the Board and staff of Boydell and Brewer, especially Richard Barber and Caroline Palmer, for their ongoing and enthusiastic support of Fourteenth Century England. I would also like personally to thank my fellow editors, Nigel Saul, Chris Given-Wilson and Mark Ormrod, each of whom read and commented upon a considerable number of the submissions to this volume, and who provided expert advice and guidance in assisting me through the editorial process. The greatest thanks, however, are reserved for our contributors,

x

Preface

who have demonstrated both the need for and the utility of such a journal as well as the outstanding quality and diversity of the work being done in the field. Volume V of Fourteenth Century England is scheduled to appear in 2008. Potential contributors are encouraged to contact the volume editor, Professor Nigel Saul, at the Department of History, Royal Holloway, University of London, Egham, Surrey TW20 0EX.

ABBREVIATIONS BIHR BL Bodl. CC

Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research British Library, London Bodleian Library, Oxford Durham University Library, Archives and Special Collections, Church Commission, Bishopric CCR Calendar of the Close Rolls CChR Calendar of the Charter Rolls CFR Calendar of the Fine Rolls CIM Calendar of Inquisitions Miscellaneous CIPM Calendar of Inquisitions Post Mortem Complete Peerage G. E. Cokayne, The Complete Peerage, new edn, 13 vols (London, 1910–59) CPL Calendar of Entries in Papal Registers Relating to Great Britain and Ireland: Papal Letters, 1198–1484 CPR Calendar of the Patent Rolls DCD Dean and Chapter Durham DCM Durham Cathedral Muniments EETS Early English Text Society EHR English Historical Review Foedera Foedera, conventions, literae et cujuscunque generic acta publica, ed. T. Rymer, various editions (as individually specified) Given-Wilson, Chronicles of the Revolution, 1397–1400, ed. C. Given-Wilson Revolution (Manchester, 1993) HBC Handbook of British Chronology, 3rd edn, ed. E. B. Fryde, D. E. Greenway S. Porter and I. Roy (London, 1986) JBS Journal of British Studies ODNB Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford University Press, 2004) PPC Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, ed. N. H. Nicholas, 7 vols (London, 1834–7) PRO Public Record Office (now TNA), London RP Rotuli Parliamentorum, 6 vols (London, 1783) RPD Registrum Palatinum Dunelmense, ed. T. D. Hardy, 4 vols, Rolls Series (London, 1873–8) SR Statutes of the Realm 11 vols (London, 1810–28) TNA The National Archives (was PRO) TRHS Transactions of the Royal Historical Society VCH Victoria County History of England

Who was St Thomas of Lancast er?

WHO WAS ST THOMAS OF LANCASTER? NEW MANUSCRIPT EVIDENCE John T. McQuillen Medieval England was rife with national and local, official and unofficial cultic centers, drawing pilgrims up, down, and across the country. ‘From every shires ende/ Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende’, as well as to Durham, Oxford, Walsingham, Evesham, and a multitude of towns and villages in between. Medieval Christianity cleaved to a strong belief in the curative power of relics and places and the simple efficacy of the pilgrimage act. Every church and cathedral housed a relic of some saint or holy person, and claims of miracle cures wrought by the saint via their relic lured the pilgrims with their open coin purses to the shrine. Stories of saints, relics, and miracles passed along the pilgrimage roads and were discussed as hotly as any other gossip of the day. The number of popular pilgrimage centers multiplied throughout the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, including officially sanctioned cults and the cults of unofficial political saints like Simon de Montfort and Thomas of Lancaster. Thomas, earl of Lancaster, was executed for rebellion on 22 March 1322, and there arose a cult almost immediately at his execution site at Pontefract in Yorkshire.1 Devotees were drawn by rumors of miracles at the site and were surely intrigued by the immediacy of the act; this was not some long-dead holy man, but a high-ranking noble of their own time. Edward II endeavored to curtail the reverence paid to his executed cousin; however, his actions may only have prompted an increase in the popular devotion. Politics often played a part in pilgrimage, and during the civil disorder of the later 1320s Thomas of Lancaster became the saintly focus for those opposed to Edward II and the Despenser regime. Although he was never canonized, Lancaster was venerated as a saint who stood against an oppressive and unjust king.2 There are a handful of known visual and textual contemporary devotional relics extant from the Lancastrian cult;3 the various media and genres exemplify the multiple facets and approaches to medieval devotion. Unknown in the Lancastrian literature to date is a Suffrage prayer to Thomas of Lancaster in a manuscript from 1 2

3

The Brut or the Chronicles of England, ed. F. W. Brie, 2 vols, EETS OS 131 and 136 (London, 1906–08), I, pp. 228–30. For the most comprehensive treatment of the cult, see: A. R. Echerd, Jr, ‘Canonization and Politics in Late Medieval England: the Cult of Thomas of Lancaster’ (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 1983). J. Edwards, ‘The Cult of ‘St.’ Thomas of Lancaster and its Iconography’, Yorkshire Archaeological Journal 64 (1992), pp. 103–22. The images include Bodleian Library MS Douce 231; the famous Luttrell Psalter; a mural in the church of St Peter ad Vincula in South Newington, Oxfordshire; a pilgrim badge; and a devotional plaque. The textual sources are mainly in the form of Suffrage prayers found in Walters Art Museum, MS W. 105; Clare College, Cambridge, MS 6; and an incomplete office in BL MS Royal 12 C xii.

2

John T. McQuillen

the Dr Lyle M. Sellers Collection, Bridwell Library, Southern Methodist University in Dallas, Texas – the only known example of a Lancastrian cult text and image found together. Bridwell Library MS 13, the Sellers Hours, is a Book of Hours for Sarum Use produced in St Omer, c. 1325;4 the Lancaster Suffrage occupies folios 2v–3r. This hitherto unrecognized Suffrage provides new evidence of the cult of Thomas of Lancaster; it alters perceptions of the cult genesis and adds to our understanding of contemporary notions of Thomas of Lancaster as saint. Although the previously known devotional relics have been discussed before, the addition of this new image and text calls for an examination of the ways in which image and text endeavor to craft a particular saint into a specific guise, as exemplified by the figure of Thomas of Lancaster. Bridwell Library MS 13 is still scarcely known to the academic public, so some introduction of the manuscript is in order prior to a discussion of the Lancastrian Suffrage and its relationship to the development of his cult and English devotional practices of the fourteenth century. MS 13 is a small manuscript of 166 leaves; slightly trimmed, it measures 95 x 68 mm.5 The Hours of the Virgin follow the Use of Sarum; a large number of English saints figure prominently in the calendar and litany. Added to a blank leaf at the end of the manuscript (perhaps an original flyleaf) is a version of the well-known mnemonic ‘30 days hath September’ written in a late fourteenth-century hand: xxx dayes in novembre aprielle june & septebr fevrell xxviij & all Þe remnant xxxjti 6 The manuscript is bound in eighteenth-century Dutch red morocco with small gilt stamps and dentelle borders and edges, rebacked, with eighteenth-century Dutch paper flyleaves. The style of the illumination follows the contemporary practices common in northeastern France and Flanders during that period, displaying ivy borders, gothic architectural canopies over scenes, and hybrid, often bawdy, grotesques decorating the margins; the Easter table and some of the rubrics are written in the Picard dialect 4

5

6

C. U. Faye and W. H. Bond, Supplement to the Census of Medieval and Renaissance Manuscripts in the U.S. and Canada (New York, 1962), p. 511, no. 3; E. S. Greenhill, Gothic and Renaissance Illuminated Manuscripts from Texas Collections, 23 April – 23 June 1971 (Austin, 1971), pp. 29–31, no. 7; and E. M. White, The Ruth & Dr. Lyle M. Sellers Collection at Bridwell Library (Dallas, Texas, 2002), pp. 44–7, no. 4.1. The only known provenance of the manuscript is the pencil signature of J. B. Toulmin on the first flyleaf and Dr Sellers’ purchase of the manuscript from Goodspeed’s Book Shop, Boston, in 1950. The manuscript is on long-term deposit at Bridwell Library from the Baylor University Medical Center Health Sciences Library, Dallas, Texas. Collation: 1–168, 1710–1, 182, 196, 20–228, leaves 2/7 (second half of November/first half of December), 2/8 (second half of December), 8/2 (end of Prime/beginning of Terce), 20/5 (prayers before Gospel readings), and 22/8 (final blank) are wanting; 3/3 is a cancel. The manuscript contains an Easter table, the Lancaster Suffrage, a calendar, the Hours of the Virgin, the Penitential and Gradual Psalms, the litany, two O intemerata prayers, a prayer to St Thomas of Canterbury, and gospel readings. For the previously earliest-known English recording of this verse found in BL MS Harley 2341, a prayer book from the fourteenth or fifteenth century, see B. Carleton and R. H. Robbins, The Index of Middle English Verse (New York, 1943), p. 570, no. 3571. Although the handwriting is difficult to date precisely, the unrefined character of the verse in MS 13 could suggest a date prior to, or contemporary with, that of the Harley manuscript.

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster?

3

of Old French, suggesting the manuscript’s origin in that region.7 The manuscript first came to scholarly attention in the exhibition at the Miriam Lutcher Stark Library at the University of Texas at Austin in 1971.8 At that time Eleanor Greenhill localized it to the French Flanders (Pas de Calais?) region, finding stylistic comparisons with Walters Art Museum, MS W. 90 (Book of Hours, fourteenth century, Dominican Use of St Omer) and Morgan Library MS M. 730 (Psalter-Hours, second half of the thirteenth century, Arras). However, in a later article, Greenhill withdrew the associations with Arras that she had made in the exhibition, stating: ‘none of the north French or Flemish manuscripts examined had the identical combination of ornamental repertory, figure style, and formal elements, none the restraint of the marginal drolleries [found in the Sellers Hours].’9 Instead of Arras, Greenhill shifted her attention to Amiens, arguing for a localization based upon two manuscripts from Amiens at the Bibliothèque Nationale: MS Lat. 1394 (Book of Hours, fourteenth century, Amiens Use) and MS Fr. 152 (Bible Historiale, 1347, Amiens). There matters have stood for a quarter century. In fact, a much stronger argument for localization can be based upon a manuscript that Greenhill wrongly disregarded as bearing no comparison to the Sellers Hours.10 The quest for the localization of MS 13 culminates with this one manuscript, a Book of Hours divided between BL MS Additional 36684, and Morgan MS M. 754.11 This manuscript, written for a woman,12 was produced in the diocese of Thérouanne (possibly the city of St Omer, for there are a number of saints of St Omer, as well as others of Thérouanne present in the calendar), in the years c. 1320–30. The manuscripts currently measure 155 x 105 mm (BL MS Add. 36684) and 156 x 111 mm (Morgan MS M. 754). The British Library fragment comes from the collection of John Ruskin (1819–1900) and was purchased by the British Library in 1902;13 the Morgan portion contains an early ownership inscription, ‘c livre apartien a Charles Desnoues demeruant derrière le simmetière de Saint 7

8 9 10 11

12

13

A catalogue of manuscripts localized to Thérouanne/St Omer is found in A. Stones, ‘Another Short Note on Rylands French 1’, in Romanesque and Gothic: Essays for George Zarnecki (Woodbridge, 1987), pp. 185–92, particularly n. 35. See also eadem, ‘Indications écrites et modèles picturaux, guides aux peintures de manuscrits enluminés aux environs de 1300’, in Artistes, artisans et production artistique au moyen âge, Vol. III: Fabrication et consummation de l’oeuvre, ed. X. B. I. Altet (Paris, 1990), pp. 325–7, particularly n. 17; P. Gerson, ‘Margins for Eros’, Romance Languages Annual 5 (1993), p. 47, n. 5; A. Bräm, ‘Buchmalerei des 13. und 14. Jahrhunderts in Frankreich, Flandern, Hennegau, Maasland und Lothringen. Literaturbericht 1970–1992, Teil 1’, Kunstchronik 47 (1994), pp. 45–6. E. S. Greenhill, Gothic and Renaissance Illuminated Manuscripts from Texas Collections (Austin, Texas, 1971), no. 7. E. S. Greenhill, ‘A Fourteenth-Century Workshop of Manuscript Illuminators and its Localization’, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 40 (1977), pp. 1–23 (p. 8). Ibid., n. 42. BL MS Add. 36684 (155 folios) contains the calendar, Hours of the Virgin, Penitential Psalms, Litany, the five Joys of Mary, a Gospel Lesson from John, the O intemerata, a prayer to the Holy Face, the Office of the Dead, and a Commendation of Souls. Morgan MS M. 754 (138 folios) contains the long Hours of the Holy Spirit, the Hours of the Mass of the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar, the long Hours of the Holy Cross/Passion, Abridged Psalter of St Jerome, Passion according to St John, and a Life of St Margaret in rhymed French verse. The original patron of the manuscript was indeed female, not only based upon the marginal devotee image, but because the O intemerata prayer (fols 78v–81v) and a prayer on fol. 99v of M. 754 use feminine pronouns in reference to the devotee. Gerson, ‘Margins for Eros’, p. 48. J. S. Dearden, ‘John Ruskin, the Collector: with a Catalogue of the Illuminated and Other Manuscripts formerly in his Collection’, The Library 5th ser. 2 (1966), p. 140, no. 33; and Catalogue of Additions to the Manuscripts in the British Museum in the Years MDCCC–MDCCCCV (London, 1907), p. 190.

4

John T. McQuillen

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Plate 1. Dallas, Bridwell Library MS 13, fol. 17r: Matins of the Virgin. Copyright, the Bridwell Library, Southern Methodist University, Dallas.

Martin’; it was owned by Madame Théophile Belin in 1925, then sold at Maggs Brothers, London, in 1928, and purchased from James Drake, New York, in 1929.14 Through a study of this manuscript and a comparison with the visual, compositional, and textual elements of Bridwell MS 13, it is possible to demonstrate that MS 13 is a product of the same continental workshop that created BL MS Add. 36684 / Morgan MS M. 754.15 14 Les Heures de Marguerite de Beaujeu (Paris, 1925); Maggs Bros., Catalogue 500, 1928, lot 35; and

the file records of the Morgan Library.

15 Walters Art Museum, MS W. 90 is also an apparent product of a St Omer workshop and related to MS

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster?

5

Richly illuminated, the Sellers Hours includes fifteen figural and narrative miniatures (mainly historiated initials), the signs of the Zodiac and Labors of the Month decorating the calendar pages, inhabited and decorated initials, borders, and line fillers, and a veritable miscellany of humans, animals, grylli (long-beaked animal hybrids), grotesques, and drôleries lavishly sprinkled about the borders. Large historiated initials typically consuming twelve lines of the fifteen-lined text block introduce the major texts. It is the composition of these major initials and their appendages that illustrate a major characteristic of the workshop’s illustrative style, with smaller, specific details comparable in the marginalia. As exhibited by the Matins initial on fol. 17r (Plate 1) and the opening of the prayer to St Thomas of Canterbury on fol. 142r (Plate 2), the historiated initial is generally composed of a two-tone, bisected initial set against an opposing blue and rose ground decorated with fine white vines and flowers with the whole field enclosed by a gold frame. The grisaille figures depicted within the initial are set upon an orange platform and highlighted by a background of gold leaf. The figures are buttressed to either side by a pair of segmented pilasters that carry a crocketted gable canopy over the scene, and the whole architectural enclosure brings forth a series of blue and orange spires and gold floriated pinnacles that stretch into the upper margin. The ascender from the Matins initial ‘d’ curls through the top left margin, turning into a pair of orange animal legs – a characteristic also exhibited on the initials of Lauds (fol. 29r), Sext (fol. 61v), and the Penitential Psalms (fol. 83r). Extending from the major initials only are ivy tendrils that scroll through the bottom and outer margins (the lesser initials receive multi-colored, cusped bar borders with black-line extensions, which can be seen on fol. 141v, facing the Thomas of Canterbury prayer). Often in the bottom margin the vine is sandwiched between two gold borders that create something of a platform on which the marginal figures cavort. The vines are composed of colored segments with gold thorns, often with gold balls attached, and variegated, tri-lobed ivy leaves. The color palette is dominated by vibrant blue and orange, as well as green, rose, and a pale parchment color. The marginalia are both naturalistic – monkeys, rabbits, dogs, birds, butterflies, and fish in color and grisaille tones – and hybrid creatures of incongruous human and animal body parts. These marginal creatures only appear in conjunction with the scrolling ivy borders that extend from the major initials and calendar pages, being absent from all simple text pages or secondary initial borders. There is a liveliness and vibrant character to the decorative style that is not found in every contemporary manuscript from the area. The Amiens manuscripts that Greenhill compares to the Sellers Hours lack the same quality of border decoration or are lacking border decoration entirely.16 On the other hand, her overlooked manuscript, BL MS Additional 36684 / Morgan MS M. 754, displays the same vivid character and basic style of decoration as Bridwell MS 13. The larger size (and cost!) of Add. 36684 / M. 754 allowed for the elaboration of the design and the explosion of marginal creatures and decorative amendments that the size of MS 13 did not readily allow; however, even with the disparity in ostentation, there are many features of style and detail that link the two manuscripts more closely than mere regional affinity would explain. 13 and BL MS Add. 36684 / Morgan MS M. 754, but the argument here will be restricted to the common characteristics of the Bridwell, British Library, and Morgan manuscripts. 16 Greenhill, ‘Fourteenth-Century workshop’, plates 11–17.

To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Plate 2. Dallas, Bridwell Library MS 13, fols 141v–142r: prayers (verso) and the opening of the prayer to St Thomas of Canterbury (recto). Copyright, the Bridwell Library, Southern Methodist University, Dallas.

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook.

To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Plate 3. London, British Library, MS Add. 36684, fols 43v–44r: Terce of the Virgin. Copyright, the British Library.

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook.

8

John T. McQuillen

The opening for the hour of Terce from BL MS Add. 36684 (fols 43v–44r, Plate 3) exhibits a number of decorative characteristics that parallel Bridwell MS 13. The general treatment and design of the historiated initials are remarkably similar in both manuscripts. The initial comprises twelve of the seventeen lines of the text block – a proportion similar to that in MS 13. The same bisected letterforms and ascenders morphing into animal legs present in Plate 1 are found in Add. 36684 / M. 754; in fact, the same triple loop of the ascender in the Terce initial is present in the initial for Sext in Bridwell MS 13, fol. 61v.17 The initials all share the same architectural design and support structure, including the platform, pilasters, gables, and spires. The comparisons extend into the margins with the drôleries and plethora of scrolling vines that inhabit each margin, encompassing the entire text block. The vines contain the same gold thorns with balls and multi-colored tri-lobed leaves as displayed in MS 13; there is even a sandwich platform in the bas-de-page of the Terce initial. Mixed up in the vines are again a motley crew of naturalistic and hybrid figures. Add. 36684 / M. 754 contains many more human representations than does MS 13, often in certain bawdy or lewd positions.18 One finds the same naturalistic birds with orange legs, fish, rabbits, dogs, apes, and butterflies in the manuscripts, as well as the ubiquitous gold balls, either attached to the ivy borders or tossed about by the various creatures; the human head jutting from between a pair of animal legs is another common creation, found in many visibly related variants in both manuscripts. The orange-headed snail with flaring nostrils, as seen at the bottom of fol. 17r in MS 13, is also repeatedly found in Add. 36684 / M. 754, in both legged and legless variations. In addition to decorative motifs and style, two textual aspects of Bridwell MS 13 tie it to Add. 36684 / M. 754 and St Omer. First, whereas the Hours of the Virgin in MS 13 follow Sarum Use, the chapter reading of Lauds (fol. 39v) does not follow Sarum Rite. The typical Sarum Use reading is Maria virgo semper letare, but in MS 13 the reading is Felix namque es sacra virgo Maria. The meaning of the two texts is almost identical, invoking the joy of the Virgin at being the mother of God. The choice of reading is not unusual; it is a fairly common text, for it is found in the mass,19 as well as being used as the Lauds chapter reading in the Uses of Paris, Gloucester (Benedictines), Durham, and St Bertin’s Abbey in St Omer.20 The fact that the variation is also found at St Bertin’s Abbey is perhaps a mere coincidence, yet it is one more element that points towards a St Omer composition. The second piece of textual evidence is the rubric attached to the second O intemerata prayer in MS 13 (fols 130v–135v), which is nearly identical to that found in BL MS Add. 36684. The rubrics are in the Picard dialect of Old French, which already localizes them to the region of Picardy in northeastern France. The rubric in Add. 36684 (fols 78r–78v) reads, ‘En lan del incarnation qui Ihesu soffri passion oril ·iii·ccc·et·xviii·ans· fist ceste orison pape jehans et tant de fois queon le dira ·ccc· iours de pardons on aura’;21 while the version in Bridwell MS 13 (fol. 130r) is, ‘En lan del incarnation mclx sonfri passion ·m·ccc·dis et wit ans fist ceste orison 17 18 19 20

Ibid., plate 4. Gerson, ‘Margins for Eros’, pp. 49–50. J. W. Legg, The Sarum Missal, Edited from Three Early Manuscripts (Oxford, 1916), pp. 307, 391. F. Madan, ‘The Localization of Manuscripts’, in Essays in History Presented to Reginald Lane Poole, ed. H. W. C. Davies (Oxford, 1927), pp. 23–8. 21 A. Wilmart, Auteurs spirituels et textes dévots du moyen âge latin (Paris, 1971), p. 494, n. 1.

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster?

9

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Plate 4. Dallas, Bridwell Library MS 13, fols 2v–3r: Thomas of Lancaster Suffrage. Copyright, the Bridwell Library, Southern Methodist University, Dallas.

pape Iohannes et tant fois con le dira ·ccc· ioire de pardon arra.’ The two versions are closely related in construction. The rubric presents another element of production that is tied to workshop manufacture rather than an element of widespread textual Use. These rubrics are as characteristic of localization as any element of artistic style. Even though the Hours are for Sarum Use, these two textual sources bear witness to its continental production. The visual and textual comparisons between Bridwell MS 13 and Add. 36684 / M. 754 provide a wide-ranging set of localizing criteria that argue persuasively for the continental production of MS 13 and its relationship to the style of St Omer.22 Three considerations set Bridwell Library MS 13 apart from other Books of Hours and Lancastrian cult relics. First, it is the only known Sarum Book of Hours produced on the continent in the fourteenth century. Second, it represents the furthest known contemporary extent of Lancaster’s cult. Third, it is fortunate to be the only surviving manuscript that contains a Suffrage text as well as an image of 22 There were strong commercial and political contacts between England and this region of northern

Europe. England exported major supplies of wool to the cloth markets of Flanders, Brabant, and Artois, and in the fourteenth century (1313–26) a staple was created at St Omer to centralize the English wool market. D. Nicholas, Medieval Flanders (London, 1992), p. 173.

10

John T. McQuillen

Thomas of Lancaster.23 Of the three known Lancaster Suffrages, this is one of two that are original to the production of the manuscript and the only one that bears a depiction of Lancaster’s execution. Though both of Greenhill’s publications mention the Suffrage and image, until now the manuscript’s relatively isolated locale and its narrowly defined art historical publication history have kept the Lancaster evidence from gaining a wider dissemination. It will therefore be helpful to discuss the Lancaster Suffrage and its function within MS 13 and its place among the already known Lancaster pilgrimage cult evidence before drawing some conclusions as to patron’s intention in shaping the cult of ‘St Thomas’ of Lancaster. In Bridwell MS 13, the Suffrage for Lancaster (Plate 4) appears directly after the table for calculating the date of Easter and preceding the calendar. Ideally, this would have been the first prayer said each morning before the reader turned to the calendar to learn which saint’s day it was, recited the Ave Maria, and started the daily reading for Matins. Its position prefacing the main text of the Hours of the Blessed Virgin Mary – and not within the subsequent prayers or texts, where it could easily belong – points to the elevated position that the original owner attributed to Lancaster. Later in the manuscript, the St Thomas of Canterbury prayer might have provided a natural correspondent for the Lancaster Suffrage; however, their division creates an intentional comparison by the original devotee. Lancaster was chosen to stand apart and in a superior position; for this devotee/patron Lancaster was preeminent. The Lancaster Suffrage reads: Antiphon: O thoma comes lancastrie, Gemma que flos militie, Qui in dei nomine, Propter statum anglie, Occidi sustilisti te. Versicle: Ora pro nobis xpristi miles, Response: Qui nunquam pauperes tenuisti viles. Collect: Omnipotens sempiterne deus qui militem sanctum tuum thomam lancastrie per querelam martyrii palmam pro pace et statu anglie sicut per sacramentum sue gloriosiscime ductus est per sancta miracula tua honorare voluisti. Tribue quesumus ut omnes eum fideliter postulantes ad bonam expeditionem et vitam eternam pervenire consedas. Per xpristum dominum nostrum amen.24 Antiphon: Oh Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, Jewel and flower of knighthood, Who in the name of God, For the sake of the state of England, Offered yourself to be killed. Versicle: Pray for us, soldier of Christ,

23 MS 13 was produced nearly a century before it became common for Books of Hours to be produced

on speculation, and though the area where MS 13 was produced became the center of production and export for English Hours in the fifteenth century, the anomalous appearance of the Lancaster Suffrage suggests a very specified, personal patronage. 24 Author’s transcription and translation.

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster?

11

Response: Who never held the poor worthless. Collect: Almighty everlasting God, you who wished to honor your holy soldier Thomas of Lancaster through the lamentable palm of the martyr for the peace and state of England just as he is lead through the sacrament for God’s own exceeding glory [and] through your holy miracles. Bestow, we pray, that you grant all faithfully venerating him a good journey and life eternal. Through Christ our Lord, Amen. The illustration depicts Thomas at the point of execution when, as the Vita Edwardi Secundi says, ‘the earl stretched forth his head as if in prayer, and the executioner cut off his head with two or three blows.’25 The references to Thomas’s genuflection and the multiple strokes of the executioner’s sword are important historic details which became focal considerations in his iconography. It seems that the artist of this scene has remained relatively true to the historical narrative; however, unlike an earlier reference in the Vita, which states that Thomas was dressed in rags, here the earl is presented in armor and a surcoat bearing his arms (England, a label France).26 The deviation is striking and portrays a greater purpose than mere identification. This is not a representation of Thomas the traitor; rather it is the execution of the royal Thomas Plantagenet, earl of Lancaster. The portrayal of Thomas in armor rather than rags underscores the drama of the situation and paints him in the guise of earl raised to martyr. The devotional image is placed at the conclusion of the text and set within a square frame that fills the remaining space of the ruled text block. The marginalia indicate the focal point of the Suffrage; the text is important, but the image takes priority. The focus of the creatures, even the mocking attitude of the rabbit, is on the devotional scene. Once the prayer was memorized, as was accomplished easily for such a short prayer, the image transformed the Suffrage from a reading act into a contemplative act of devotion, as the image was viewed while reciting the text. Only when the image was contemplated in unison with the text could each fulfill their complete devotional purpose. The image and prayer are obviously meant to function as one – the audible and visual manifestations of the cult. The text refers to Thomas as ‘xpriste miles’, a soldier of Christ, and the image depicts him in the armor associated with his class and rank. One is meant to contemplate his martial function; his terrestrial fight as ‘comes lancastrie’ will continue in Heaven as ‘militem sanctum tuum’. Lancaster’s sacrifice for England is also especially emphasized, both in the antiphon, ‘propter statum anglie’, and collect, ‘pro pace et statu anglie’. The state of affairs in England (i.e. the tyranny of Edward II) is his reason for ‘offering himself ’ for martyrdom. This is a slight revision of history, but devotional prayers are not meant to act as chronicles of history; rather this more properly serves as a chronicle of sentiment and devotional belief. This is reminiscent of a line in the Flores historiarum, which says Lancaster died ‘for the justice of the Church and the state of the kingdom.’27

25 Vita Edwardi Secundi, The Life of Edward the Second, ed. and trans. W. R. Childs (Oxford, 205),

p. 215.

26 The label should be of five points, but only three are shown. 27 Flores historiarum, ed. H. R. Luard, 3 vols, Rolls Series (London, 1890), III, p. 204: ‘pro Ecclesiae

jure et statu regni’.

12

John T. McQuillen

Lancaster martyred himself in order to unmask a tyrannical ruler, giving his life for the greater benefit of England. As a noble, Thomas was presumed to have a pre-existing connection to the holy. This was proven by the quick occurrence of miracles at his tomb, thus clearly identifying him as a martyr and his cause as righteous.28 His actions were in dei nomine, and as a reward he was given the martyrii palmam. The text and image endeavor to mold Thomas into the image of the noble who was villainously executed in his righteous struggle against tyranny. The image of Thomas – his holy posture and regal garments – and textual emphasis on his reason for death combine in order to show the devotee everything necessary to know about who Thomas had been in life and became in death. The manuscript’s production in a French workshop offers some interesting considerations regarding Lancaster’s cult. First of all, it offers important evidence that the cult was more widespread than previously assumed. There are a number of economic and political connections between France and England during this period, including the Staple for English wool located at St Omer that drew a large number of English merchants to the area. Secondly, the parallels between Bridwell MS 13 and other Lancastrian cult relics suggest a centralized cult foundation from which were dispersed practically canonical visual and textual imagery. The three known contemporary Lancaster Suffrages bear practically identical antiphons, versicles, and responses (the collect being an original creation of each manuscript), indicating a single origin for the Suffrage text.29 The personal requirements of the manuscript also allowed for specific instruction as to Thomas’s representation. The original owner desired to place Thomas in this superior position and in the attire of his noble station; he chose to venerate Thomas as the sainted earl of Lancaster. The propagandistic tendencies of the cult have been looked at before, often to the point of denying any true devotional sentiment attached to Lancaster;30 however, these relics of devotion present an element of the cult that was more than strictly political. While public displays of devotion can be seen as visual manifestations of political belief, the presence of Suffrages and private devotions, these things that are not on public display, offer clearer indications of a true belief in Thomas as saint. Politics and religion were not compartmentalized during the period, and Thomas’s cult could function in the context of both political revolt and religious worship. The other, previously identified, images of Lancaster have been studied before,31 yet with the addition of the Dallas manuscript, the cumulative group sheds new light on the contemporary devotional and political sentiments attached to the creation of the new cult. The famous Luttrell Psalter (BL MS Additional 42130, fol. 56r), with its multiple depictions of saints and contemporary life, contains an entire two-folio 28 Brut, ed. Brie, I, pp. 228–30; Anecdota ex Codicibus Hagiographicis, ed. J. Gielemans (Brussels,

1895), pp. 99–100.

29 Cf. Walters Art Museum, MS W. 105, ‘The Butler Hours’, fol. 14v; Clare College, Cambridge, MS 6,

Psalter, fol. 144v, where the Lancaster Suffrage is added in a fourteenth-century hand. The suffrages are printed with translation in the appendix, pp. 24–5 below. 30 J. R. Bray, ‘Concepts of Sainthood in Fourteenth-Century England’, Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester 66 (1983), pp. 40–77; J. M. Thielmann, ‘Political Canonization and Political Symbolism in Medieval England’, JBS 29 (1990), pp. 241–66; and S. Walker, ‘Political Saints in Later Medieval England’, in R. H. Britnell and A. J. Pollard, eds, The McFarlane Legacy: Studies in Late Medieval Politics and Society (New York, 1995), pp. 77–106. 31 Echerd, ‘Cult of Thomas of Lancaster’, pp. 192–206; Edwards, ‘Cult of “St” Thomas’, passim.

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster?

13

opening dedicated to Thomas of Lancaster. Produced for Geoffrey Luttrell in Lincolnshire (one of Lancaster’s holdings) around 1330, the Luttrell Psalter is a manuscript of the psalms and canticles decorated with a compendium of fantastical and devotional marginalia alongside scenes from everyday life. Among the marginalia illustrating Psalm 29 on fols 55v–56r (Plate 5) are a monk, two bowmen, a man wrestling a lion, and a scene of a man kneeling before a sword-wielding executioner. The execution scene (Plate 5) in the bas-de-page has long been associated with Thomas of Lancaster.32 The kneeling victim is barefooted and dressed in a long gown representing the rags that a condemned traitor would have worn, but equally reminiscent of the dress of a martyr. He has his hands clasped before him in prayer, and there is already one bleeding wound upon his neck. These details, following the Vita Edwardi Secundi narrative verbatim, aid in the identification of this figure as Thomas of Lancaster.33 As thoroughly discussed by Joyce Coleman, the marginal illustrations are cumulatively representative of the death of Lancaster.34 The entire opening is a symbolic narrative of his death; however, it is not the death of the illustrious earl as we have seen, but a man dressed in rags. Representing Thomas in the rags he wore to his execution does not necessarily place him in the role of traitor. Luttrell’s devotion in this manuscript creates Thomas of Lancaster as a martyr, emphasizing his lamentable state, and stands as a record of his political sympathies. An indication of Luttrell’s regard for Lancaster is found in connection with the psalm with which Luttrell chose to illustrate him. The Lancaster program decorates Psalm 29, in which David praises God for saving him: ‘I will exalt you, Lord, since you have supported me, and have not delighted my enemies over me.’35 Can there be any relationship between the text and images chosen to adorn the page? The sword of the executioner underlines verse 12, ‘You have turned my mourning into joy for me, you have rent my sackcloth, and have encompassed me in grace.’36 Thomas’s supporters could feel joy at his martyrdom, and his enemies could not long delight over his death. Sir Andrew Harclay, who betrayed Thomas, was in turn executed by Edward for treason, and the king himself was overthrown within five years.37 Also, the sackcloth divinely removed through martyrdom is reminiscent of Thomas’s attire in the manuscript. Luttrell had a strong hand in the design and decoration of his manuscript, and it is highly likely that he chose Thomas to illustrate this specific psalm, with Thomas’s appearance serving as a visual manifestation of Luttrell’s devotion.38 32 For connections between Luttrell and Lancaster, see, J. Coleman, ‘New Evidence about Sir Geoffrey

33

34 35 36 37

38

Luttrell’s Raid on Sempringham Priory, 1312’, The British Library Journal 25 (1999), pp. 109, 120, and n. 109. ‘Lancastres’ is inscribed below the sword, though how long after the production of the manuscript this was done is hard to say. See J. Backhouse, The Luttrell Psalter (London, 1989), p. 9; M. Camille, Mirror in Parchment: The Luttrell Psalter and the Making of Medieval England (Chicago, 1998), p. 74. Camille, Mirror in Parchment, p. 73; Coleman, ‘New Evidence’, pp. 112–15. Psalm 29:2, Exaltabo te Domine quoniam suscepisti me nec delectasti inimicos meos super me. Psalm 29:12, Convertisti planctum meum in gaudium mihi conscidisti saccum meum et circumdedisti me laetitia. N. Fryde, The Tyranny and Fall of Edward II, 1321–1326 (Cambridge, 1979), p. 106. The assigned date of c. 1330 places the production of the Luttrell Psalter after the deposition of Edward II and perhaps after the fall of the Mortimer regime as well. Backhouse, Luttrell Psalter, p. 14; Camille, Mirror in Parchment, p. 73.

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Plate 5. London, British Library, MS. Add. 42130, fols 55v–56r: Psalm 29. The execution scene in the bas-de-page has long been associated with Thomas of Lancaster. Copyright, the British Library.

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book. Plate 6. The execution detail from Plate 5 above.

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster?

15

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Plate 7. Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Douce 231, fol. 1r: Thomas of Lancaster and St George. Copyright the Bodleian Library.

The Luttrell Psalter is a font of scenes depicting contemporary life, within which this image of Lancaster could well fit; however, the image of Thomas appears in a section of the Psalter (fols 29r–60v) where there are concentrated a number of saints’ martyrdoms, including three further beheadings: St Thomas of Canterbury (fol. 51r), St John the Baptist (fol. 53v), and later in the manuscript St Bartholomew (fol. 108r, after being flayed). The executions of John the Baptist, Lancaster and St Bartholomew follow a nearly identical figural position, with the executioners and victims each adopting the same poses. Even though the artist was likely following a model for the depiction of executions, the similarity in the scenes still points to the equation of Lancaster with these saints. The sanctity of Thomas is reiterated through the verses of Psalm 29 and the communitas of the manuscript. To Luttrell, he was a holy martyr, his poor appearance only instigating more fervent devotion and his comparison to John the Baptist, St Bartholomew, and Thomas of Canterbury establishes his political sympathies surrounding the death of Lancaster. Thomas of Lancaster is represented in a Book of Hours in Oxford, yet in a

16

John T. McQuillen

completely different fashion from that found in MS 13 and the Luttrell Psalter. The Bodleian Library houses MS Douce 231, a Sarum Book of Hours made sometime between 1325 and 1330 in the diocese of Lincoln.39 On fol. 1r there is a full-page illustration of Thomas of Lancaster paired with St George (Plate 7). Each figure is identified by his respective coat-of-arms, and the two figures are nearly identical in stance and appearance. Neither figure, most peculiarly St George, is nimbed. In contrast to the images discussed so far, here Thomas is not in the process of being executed, but neither is he in supplication to St George as one might expect. The two figures are represented as equals. Equating Thomas of Lancaster with an established and highly renowned saint such as St George seems an unusual step to take, unless the unknown patron of this manuscript was expecting Thomas’s canonization. St George was the ideal of Christian chivalry and a very popular saint among the knightly class, but he was not made England’s patron saint until after the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, so the comparison of Lancaster to St George is made on the basis of the chivalric virtues. The sole iconographic difference between the two figures is in the design of the helmet – Lancaster’s has a moveable visor, an invention of the fourteenth century, while St George’s is open and of an earlier type.40 This differentiation marks Lancaster as the ‘modern’ chivalric paradigm. In life, as well as death, Lancaster was the fourteenth-century emulation of St George. Since the succeeding four folios in MS Douce 231 show similarly arranged pairs of holy figures, including Sts John the Baptist and John the Evangelist (fol. 2r), St Anne and the Virgin (fol. 3r), Sts Peter and Paul (fol. 4r), Sts Helena and Mary Magdalene (fol. 5r), the placement of the Lancaster image within this scheme offers clear evidence of Thomas’s anticipated role: England will have two warrior saints. On fol. 2r John the Baptist stands on the left of the pair, as does Lancaster on the preceding folio. The artist/designer of this manuscript might be drawing a comparison between the two men as holy figures decapitated by an unjust ruler.41 Lancaster’s sanctity accrues through the august company that he keeps in MS Douce 231, much as in the Luttrell Psalter. As in MS 13, so here Lancaster takes the dominant placement in the manuscript. Though the images could not be more different, they each indicate the primary importance, perhaps stemming from contemporaneity, that Lancaster held in the religious devotion of the manuscript’s patron. The representation is an iconic image of devotion, rather than the prayerful one of MS 13. In this arrangement of icons there is no question – Thomas of Lancaster is a saint. The Luttrell Psalter and MS Douce 231 both come from Lincolnshire (the earldom of Lincoln was Thomas’s holding inherited from his father-in-law, Henry de Lacy), so it is perhaps not surprising that they contain images of their local lord; however, there is another image of Lancaster that is not associated with one of his holdings, nor is it an image of private devotion from a manuscript. The church of St Peter ad Vincula in South Newington, Oxfordshire, has an elaborately decorated interior with murals of a very high quality from the early fourteenth century, which 39 O. Pächt and J. J. G. Alexander, Illuminated Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library Oxford, 3 vols

(Oxford, 1973), III, p. 53, no. 575, and L. F. Sandler, Gothic Manuscripts, 1285–1385, 2 vols (London, 1986), II, p. 96, no. 87; both cite stylistic comparisons with a London workshop that produced Walter de Milemete’s De nobilitatibus, sapientiis, et prudentiis regum (Oxford, Christ Church, MS 92), 1326–7, including a closely related image of St George presenting the arms of England to the king. 40 A. V. B. Norman and D. Pottinger, English Weapons & Warfare, 449–1660 (Englewood Cliffs, NJ, 1979), p. 83; Sandler, Gothic Manuscripts, II, p. 96. 41 Edwards, ‘Cult of “St” Thomas’, p. 110.

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster?

17

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Plate 8. South Newington, church of St Peter ad Vincula: execution of St Thomas à Becket. By kind permission of the Victoria and Albert Museum.

Reformation-era whitewash inadvertently helped to preserve. The scenes include donor portraits, images of saints, and two scenes of execution, those of St Thomas of Canterbury (Plate 8) and Thomas of Lancaster (Plate 9). The date of the mural is likely set shortly after 1326 when Edward II was deposed and Edward III petitioned the pope for the canonization of Thomas (i.e. the first official support of the Lancastrian cult) but in any case before 1340, to judge from the clothing of the patrons and figures.42 The Lancaster scene presents a regally dressed man in a striped robe and embroidered slippers kneeling before an executioner. There are already two cuts on the victim’s neck that are profusely bleeding. The mural is damaged, yet fragments of clothing and body parts suggest a similar figural composition to that found in MS 13 and the Luttrell Psalter. The Lancaster coat-of-arms does not appear in relation to this figure, though the two gashes on his neck are reminiscent of the wound from the Luttrell Psalter and the description of his sloppy execution in the Vita Edwardi Secundi. The evidence of patronage also suggests identification. The patron of this specific painting is not securely known; however, some of the paintings in the church bear the coat of arms of the Giffard family. John Giffard of Brimpsfeld was a bannerette of Edward II, yet later he was one of Lancaster’s supporters, captured at Boroughbridge, and executed at Gloucester;43 the Giffards of Twyford, cousins to the Brimpsfeld branch, held the manor of South Newington in the fourteenth century.44 Therefore, the painting of Thomas of Lancaster might have been commis42 E. W. Tristram, English Wall Painting of the Fourteenth Century (London, 1955), p. 73. 43 Brut, ed. Brie, I, p. 224. 44 These two branches are descended from the sons of Elis III Giffard and Maud de Berkeley.

18

John T. McQuillen

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Plate 9. South Newington, church of St Peter ad Vincula: execution of Thomas of Lancaster. By permission of the Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art.

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster?

19

sioned to reflect the local family’s own political sympathies and serve as a memorial for a deceased family member. The position of the mural in association with St Thomas of Canterbury, and the other images of Sts. James, and Margaret and the Virgin again places Lancaster on par with these holy figures; for the decoration of this church, Lancaster is no different than Canterbury, each a saint in their own right. Though this mural is the only surviving example of any large-scale, public image of Lancaster, it reflects the popular sentiment – the execution of Lancaster had captured the peoples’ emotions and devotional sympathies. The patron of this mural, like several others, chose to represent Thomas in a very regal form, depicting for all who entered this church where their devotional and political sympathies lay. The images of Lancaster discussed so far are related to members of the wealthier, landed classes who could afford to produce a manuscript or donate a mural; there is yet another set of images, which are perhaps more closely allied to the lower classes and common pilgrims who visited Lancaster’s tomb. The British Museum owns a leaden object (1954, 5–2, 1) from the second quarter of the fourteenth century that is 165 x 127 mm and displays a series of saints and figural scenes (Plate 10). Of relatively crude workmanship, it is too large for a pilgrim badge, so it was likely a ‘poor man’s devotional plaque, the equivalent of an ivory diptych … [which] might well have been carried home from the shrine by a humbler pilgrim.’45 The plaque is in the form of a gable surmounted by a damaged Crucifixion with the figure of St John the Evangelist (the figure of Mary on the left side of the Crucifixion is now missing), with other saints, including Sts Peter and Paul around the frame.46 The focus of the plaque is the six narrative scenes of the life, or passion, of Thomas of Lancaster. The narrative begins at the top left where a king, scepter in hand, is seated upon a high dais; a bishop stands before him with a sealed document while a third figure kneels below the dais. Though it is difficult to identify this event outside the general narrative of the remaining five scenes, Tait and Edwards both believe the scene represents the Treaty of Leake, 1318, which procured Lancaster’s aide in quelling the Scottish rebellion.47 It is, however, equally probable that the scene represents the presentation of the Ordinances. Robert Winchelsey, archbishop of Canterbury, was a member of the Lords Ordainer, a group of prelates, barons, and nobles grudgingly established by Edward II in 1310 in order to reform the realm. Winchelsey was the highest-ranking ecclesiast of the group, and his mere presence, if only nominally, would suggest the idea of true reform rather than mere baronial jealousy. The archbishop only marginally participated in the creation of the Ordinances, yet his ideal as figurehead wielded more power. The placement of Winchelsey between the king and Lancaster and passing the Ordinances, from which the ponderous royal seal hangs, between them is in effect the divine and legal conferment of authority to Lancaster to act in accordance with the Ordinances, the fulcrum in his struggles with the king. The image of Winchelsey represents the symbolic Church approval of Lancaster and his stand on the Ordinances, a detail necessary to instigate his righteous fight culminating in sainthood. It proves that he was executed defending the Church and realm. The second scene represents Thomas’s defeat and capture at Boroughbridge; the 45 H. Tait, ‘Pilgrim-signs and Thomas, Earl of Lancaster’, The British Museum Quarterly 20 (1955–56),

p. 40.

46 Edwards, ‘Cult of “St” Thomas’, p. 114; Tait, ‘Pilgrim-signs’, p. 41. 47 Tait, ‘Pilgrim-signs’, p. 42; Edwards, ‘Cult of “St” Thomas’, p. 116.

20

John T. McQuillen

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Plate 10. London, British Museum, 1954, 5–2, 1: Thomas of Lancaster devotional plaque. Copyright the Trustees of the British Museum.

arms of England are represented above the scene. Since this is clearly a Lancastrian piece, it is unlikely that this represents royal propaganda for the defeat of Lancaster. As the arms of England, they transform Thomas’s fight into one for England, or as his Suffrage states, ‘propter statum anglie . . . pro pace et statu anglie.’ The ubiquitous sentiment in the Suffrages is represented in the plaque: Thomas is England. The final scene on the top row represents Thomas’s transportation to York for imprisonment. Three men are shown in a boat while above them looms the façade of York Minster.48 The first scene on the bottom row represents a critical moment in Thomas’s passion, his trial. Thomas, on the right, is on the stand facing one of his accusers/judges on the left. The next scene depicts Thomas riding the ‘lene white Jade with owt Bridil’49 on his way to execution. He is the only figure represented in the scene and faced directly out at the viewer, his hands clasped before him in prayer. This scene is obviously the focus of the narrative, for Thomas’s position implores the viewer to take pity on the man. The final scene is the execution. Thomas, again facing the viewer, kneels on the left and prays, while the executioner on the right swings his sword across Thomas’s neck. As opposed to the other repre48 Tait, ‘Pilgrim-signs’, p. 42, points out that details like Lancaster’s journey by boat to York are only

present in William de Packington’s Chroniques in Frenche. John Leland, De rebus britannicis collectanea, 6 vols (London, 1770). 49 Leland, Collectanea, II, p. 463.

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster?

21

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Plate 11. London, British Museum, 1984, 5–5, 2: Thomas of Lancaster pilgrim badge. Copyright the Trustees of the British Museum.

sentations of Lancaster’s execution that we have seen, his gaze is cast out at the viewer here, creating a clearer devotional link between the supplicant and Thomas along the lines of Christ as the Man of Sorrows. The imagery is something akin to the Luttrell Psalter in the identification of Thomas as more martyr than baron. Another work relating to the Lancastrian pilgrimage cult is a pilgrim badge in the British Museum (1984, 5–5, 2) made from a tin-lead alloy and datable to the second quarter of the fourteenth century (Plate 11). Only 91 x 60 mm, the badge is much smaller than the plaque, and thus it is representative of the type of object the average pilgrim would have bought at Lancaster’s shrine and carried home as an efficacious souvenir. The scene depicts Lancaster’s execution in the same manner as we have seen before – Thomas, on the right, kneels in prayer while the executioner on the right strikes the deadly blow(s). Above this is shown Thomas’s soul in a mandorla ascending to Heaven and supported by two angels. This is reminiscent of the scene at the top of the narrative plaque and is a representation of the ascension of an obviously saintly soul. This iconography, perhaps more than the others, supports the view that Thomas was accepted as a saint among a percentage of the populace even if he was not officially canonized. Strong visual imagery was only one means by which the cult of Lancaster could leave a durable mark on fourteenth-century English culture – devotional practice was the other. Not only did the cult require images for people to venerate, but also it

22

John T. McQuillen

needed the words with which one venerated, as illustrated by the Suffrages.50 The necessity for an official mass or office for the deceased required the creation of a text(s), outside those of simple, personal devotion. BL MS Royal 12 C xii, fol. 1r, contains an incomplete office for Thomas of Lancaster.51 It indicates the possibility of official acceptance of the cult and the preparation of the necessary devotional machinery. The office would have been for official use, not like the texts for personal devotion, and it is perhaps here that the clearest and most broadly based sentiment regarding Thomas of Lancaster is found. In many aspects the language and statements of the office text parallel those in the Suffrages, for they are only scaled-down versions of the Church offices, but the office goes further than any other texts in glorifying Thomas. The office immediately begins with a comparison of Thomas of Lancaster and St Thomas of Canterbury, an important, ubiquitous, and easy association to make based upon the mens’ names and methods of execution. St Thomas was assassinated for ‘the peace of the Church’ and Lancaster for ‘the peace of England.’ Speaking of Lancaster, the text states, ‘Qui per necem imitaris thomam cantuariae; cujus caput conculcatur pacem ob ecclesiae, atque tuum detruncatur causa pacis angliae’; the text creates Lancaster as the secular St Thomas of Canterbury. As in the Suffrages, Lancaster’s sacrifice for the sake of England and all its inhabitants is stressed throughout the office. Lancaster stands as a model to the nobility, emblematic of their proper function in regards to the betterment of the country and loyalty to the crown, not king. The office contains a prose section, which is the first surviving text to call Thomas of Lancaster a saint and to mention his miracles explicitly. The sequence in the office shifts focus to Thomas’s nobility and royal birth. This not only helps to emphasize the noble sacrifice of his fall, but it also enhances his inherent sanctity, for it was believed that those of royal or noble blood had a special relationship with God, and were therefore, closer to God in Heaven. Thomas is also developed into a Christ-figure by paralleling his passion with Christ’s, which obviously underscores his saintliness. Thomas was betrayed by Andrew Harklay, many of his knights and friends deserted Thomas upon his capture, and then it was three days before he became an ‘unconquered champion’ by his death. Thomas’s charity to the people of England, both in life and death, also is compared to that of Christ, who sacrificed himself for humanity. The entire office builds Thomas into a true saint; the perfection of English knighthood, who fought for a noble cause and who now abides in Heaven, ‘the truth [of which] may now be clear to all.’ The text works as well as any image in shaping the idea of Lancaster to fit a specific devotional intent. The origin of MS Royal 12 C xii is not known, but it dates from the first half of the fourteenth century, during the apogee of Lancaster’s cult. Christopher Page has set the text to what was the likely melody based upon the incipits of the sections. The incipit of the sequence, Summum regem honoremus, is found in three other texts dedicated to St Thomas (de Cantilupe) of Hereford, St Ethelbert of Hereford, and 50 There are a number of texts that are extant in fifteenth-century copies, including: a vita found in

Gielemans; a pseudo-Suffrage, printed in G. M. Dreves and C. Blume, eds, Analecta Hymnica Medii Aevi, 55 vols (Leipzig, 1866–1922), XIII, Liturgische Reimofficien des Mittelalters, Zweite Folge, p. 7; and XXVIII, Historiae Rhythmicae. Liturgische Reimofficien des Mittelalters, Siebente Folge, p. 321. See Walker, ‘Political Saints’, n. 39. 51 P. Coss, ed., Thomas Wright’s Political Songs of England, from the Reign of John to that of Edward II (Cambridge, 1996), pp. 268–72.

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster?

23

the Virgin, all of which originate from Hereford.52 This textual relationship is strong evidence for the creation of the Lancaster office within the diocese of Hereford and by someone who wanted to exploit the existing associations of the text and melody for the benefit of the emerging cult. Whether this office was actually celebrated or was composed in preparation for canonization and official sanction of the cult, it represents the necessary machinery in process during the development of any saint’s cult to mold the image of the saint in the mind of the populace. Time and again Thomas of Lancaster was textually and visually compared to St Thomas of Canterbury: in MS Royal 12 C xii, the murals at St Peter ad Vincula, the Luttrell Psalter, and also in MS 13. Near the end of the Bridwell manuscript is a verse prayer to St Thomas of Canterbury (fols 142r–144r). The presence of the prayers to these two Thomases was surely the intention of the original owner, for much like the modern viewer of the manuscript, associations are automatically drawn between the two devotions. For the patron of MS 13, Thomas of Lancaster was indeed a saint; his sanctity was proven by his own deeds and subsequent miracles and by the role of his predecessor St Thomas of Canterbury. Since both men were executed for standing up to the crown, then Lancaster would share the same reward as Canterbury. It often took the aid of other saints to strengthen and legitimize a cult in the eyes of the populace; therefore, it was only logical that these two, highly elevated Thomases, who were each martyred in so similar a fashion, should have been linked in sanctity – if Thomas of Canterbury, then Thomas of Lancaster. The Polychronicon of Ranulf Higden sums up Lancaster’s reputation as follows: Of this erle and of his dedes is ofte greet stryf among comoun peple, whether he shulde be acounted for seyntes other none. Some seyn yis, for he dede many almes dedes, and worschipped men of religioun, and mayntened a trewe querel, as it seemed, to his lyves end … Other seien the contrarie, and telleth that he was an housbonde man, and rought nought of his wyf, and defouled a greet multitude of wommen and of gentil wenches.53 In the end, however, it was never Lancaster’s personal character that was deemed saint-worthy, rather it was, as Higden says, his ‘trewe querel’ – his political stance – which led to his veneration. Nobility of blood was intimately connected with nobility/sanctity of spirit, and this was intertwined with Lancaster’s appeal as a holy figure. The cult images and texts were designed to promote Lancaster in a specific guise. His royal status was never forgotten and often used to underscore his dramatic end, while his religious devotion was built up in order to villainize his accusers and legitimize the saintly desires of the cult. The symbolic linkage of Lancaster to established saints like St John the Baptist or St George legitimately garnered associated sentiment and support for the growing cult, and by comparing Lancaster to St Thomas of Canterbury, the earl’s cult benefited from the noble, pious, and political associations of the archbishop’s martyrdom. The acceptance of Lancaster as a saint was intimately connected to the ability to establish a legitimate line of succession for holiness. Once sanctity was shown, the cause for which Lancaster had died obviously became righteous, and Thomas ‘became a symbol of 52 C. Page, ‘The Rhymed Office for St. Thomas of Lancaster: Poetry, Politics and Liturgy in Four-

teenth-Century England’, Leeds Studies in English 14 (1983), pp. 137–8.

53 Polychronicon Ranulphi Higden monachi Cestrensis, ed. J. R. Lumby, 9 vols, Rolls Series (1865–86),

VIII, pp. 314–15.

24

John T. McQuillen

resistance to the powers of darkness, the upholder of ancient liberties against new-fangled tyranny.’54 Upon the capture of Lancaster at Boroughbridge in 1322 and his subsequent execution, some of his supporters fled overseas, seeking sanctuary from the ravages of Edward II and the Despensers. Is Bridwell Library MS 13 the prayer book for one of these fleeing Lancastrians? It is almost impossible and perhaps unnecessary to say. MS 13 exemplifies an up-till-now unseen form of devotion applied to Lancaster’s cult. It is so far the only known occurrence of a Lancastrian veneration image combined with a Suffrage text, and indicates one way in which MS 13 offers clues to the practices of medieval devotion. It proves that through commercial exchange, economic benefit, or political diaspora some element of his cult quickly spread to the continent by someone who found it necessary to produce a brand new manuscript with a contemporary, Lancastrian spirit. The patron desired to venerate Lancaster as the earl of Lancaster, a noble reflection of his struggle. He is neither the martyr of Geoffrey Luttrell – a second St John the Baptist – nor the Heavenly host of MS Douce 231 – a modern St George; he is the new St Thomas of Canterbury – the earl who stood against a tyrant, paid the price, and shall receive his reward . . . which never came.

APPENDIX Walters Art Museum, Baltimore, MS W. 105, ‘the Butler Hours’, fol. 14v Antiphon: Thoma Lankastrie, Flos et gemma milicie, Qui in dei nomine, Propter statum anglie, Occidi sustulisti te. Versicle: Ora pro nobis beate Christi miles, Response: Qui pauperes nunquam habuisti viles. Collect: Mittisime deus aures tuas benigne vocis meis inclina ut hii qui beathe thome lankastrie comitis et martyris memoriam recolunt post viam universe carnis ingressum mereamur consorcium aggregari per dominum nostrum ihesum christum filium tuum qui tecum vivit et regnat deus per omnia secula seculorum. Amen. Benedicamus domino. Deo Gracias.55 Antiphon: Thomas of Lancaster, Flower and jewel of knighthood, Who in the name of God, Offered yourself to be killed, For the sake of the state of England. Versicle: Pray for us blessed soldier of Christ 54 M. McKisack, The Fourteenth Century, 1307–1399 (Oxford, 1959), p. 70. 55 Transcribed and translated by author.

Who was St Thomas of Lancaster?

25

Response: Who never held the poor worthless. Collect: Most gentle God, incline your ears kindly to my voice so that they renew the memory of this blessed Thomas of Lancaster earl and martyr after having entered the way of the flesh may we receive a reward sharing to be judged through your son our Lord Jesus Christ who lives with you and God reigns through All ages of ages. Amen. Let us bless the Lord. Thanks be to God.

Clare College, Cambridge, MS 6, fol. 144r Antiphon: O thoma lanchastrie, Gemma que flos militie, Qui in dei nomine, Propter statum anglie, Occidi sustulisti te. Versicle: Ora pro nobis christi miles, Response: Qui nunquam pauperes tenuisti viles. Collect: Oremus. Omnipotens sempiterne deus qui militem strenuum tuum et fidelem thomam comitem lanchastrie per crudelem martirium palma celestis glorie donare dignatus es; presta, quesumus, ut cuius commemorationem agimus temporaliter eius patrocinio semper gaudeamus.56 Antiphon: Oh Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, Jewel and flower of knighthood, Who in the name of God, Offered yourself to be killed, For the sake of the state of England. Versicle: Pray for us, soldier of Christ, Response: Who never held the poor worthless. Collect: Let us pray. Almighty everlasting God, you who are worthy to give your active and faithful soldier Thomas, Earl of Lancaster through merciless martyrdom the palm of heavenly glory; grant, we pray, that whom we commemorate in this world let us always rejoice in his protection.

56 Printed in Echerd, ‘Cult of Thomas of Lancaster’, pp. 187–8. Translated by author.

‘Hedging, Ditching and other Improper Occupations ’

‘HEDGING, DITCHING AND OTHER IMPROPER OCCUPATIONS’: ROYAL LANDSCAPES AND THEIR MEANING UNDER EDWARD II AND EDWARD III Amanda Richardson To the treasurer and barons of the exchequer. Order to cause the prior and convent of Ivychurch, Andrew de Grymstede, John de Grymstede, Philip Gogeon, Robert de Micheldevre, and Robert le Peleter to be discharged of the rent of certain assarts that they had in the forest of [Clarendon], as the king has caused the assarts to be taken into his hands and inclosed within his park of [Clarendon].1 The above order, issued from Windsor by Edward II in November 1317, lies behind the writing of this paper. Almost a throwaway reference that has hitherto been overlooked by scholars of Clarendon Palace and its park, the mandate might be considered at best noteworthy (and at worst insignificant) by late-medieval landscape historians. Yet at a local level its unambiguity, verified by other documentary sources,2 reveals that while Clarendon Park in Wiltshire is undeniably ancient, its size did not remain constant throughout the late medieval period. The deer park, which is among the best-preserved medieval royal hunting spaces in the country, is well-known as the largest ever to have existed in England (and probably in Europe).3 At around 16 km (about 10 miles) in circumference and 1,737 hectares in area, it far exceeded the average of 40–120 hectares.4 But what we see today may well be the result of an imparkment carried out not by Henry III when the palace was at its zenith, as is commonly supposed,5 but by Edward II, who apparently showed rather less interest, and at a time when Clarendon was rarely visited by the court.6 The assarts in question first appear in records of arrentations of wastes ordered to 1 2 3

4

5

6

CCR 1313–18, p. 507. TNA [PRO], E 36/75, fols 29–30; E 32/204, m. 3. All subsequent references to documentary sources are to The National Archives unless otherwise specified. For Clarendon and its park see T. B. James and A. M. Robinson, Clarendon Palace: The History and Archaeology of a Medieval Palace and Hunting Lodge near Salisbury, Wiltshire (London, 1988); A. Richardson, The Medieval Forest, Park and Palace of Clarendon: Reconstructing an Actual, Conceptual and Documented Wiltshire Landscape, BAR British Series 387 (Oxford, 2005); T. B. James and C. M. Gerrard, The Kings’ Private Landscape: Rediscovering Clarendon, England’s Greatest Deer Park (Macclesfield, 2006). For comparative plans of medieval deerparks in Wessex see J. Bond, ‘Forests, Chases, Warrens and Parks in Medieval Wessex’, in The Medieval Landscape of Wessex, ed. M. Aston and C. Lewis (Oxford, 1994), pp. 115–58, fig. 6.10. It is possible that a park was present from the reign of Henry I, when a royal residence certainly existed. See W. Farrel, An Outline Itinerary of King Henry I, EHR 24 (1919), p. 131. However, no documentary evidence for the park, per se, is extant. As far as is known, Edward II made only three short visits to Clarendon throughout his reign. See Richardson, Medieval Forest of Clarendon, chapter 3.

‘Hedging, Ditching and other Improper Occupations’

27

be taken in 1299–1305 by Edward I.7 An inquisition into the same, held at nearby Salisbury in 1304, shows that the prior held 112 acres, le Peleter 32½, the de Grimsteads 20 and de Micheldevre 22.8 True, this is considerably less than the park’s present 4,292 acres, but the assarts may only have been recorded due to their arrented status, while land pertaining to the king alone was left unmentioned. It is possible, given the areas occupied, to suggest that the assarts were located in the south and east of the park (see Figure 1). Robert de Micheldevre’s holding was at Whitmarsh (albumariscu[m]), Philip Gogeon’s was at Rowaldesgrove (La Wellesgrove), Robert le Poleter’s was almost certainly the ‘poletersclos’ (i.e. Poleter’s Close) mentioned as between Rowaldesgrove and Whitmarsh c. 1330, and the prior’s was, not surprisingly, close to (iuxta) the priory.9 In this area a series of deer-leaps, shown in Figure 1 as triangles in positions indicated on a c. 1640 map, is documented from 1318,10 which may indicate that the medieval deer park as we know it came into existence at the time of the imparkment. Perhaps not coincidentally the 3,276 perches of pale erected from 1318 to 1321 at a cost of around £140,11 adds up to 16.42 km (10.2 miles) – roughly the circumference of the park today. Although similarly detailed accounts for the thirteenth century are not extant, recorded outlay in 1225–8 is considerably lower, at approximately £38 (Figure 6, below).12 More persuasive is a remark made by Clarendon’s regarders in 1330–1, which strongly suggests that substantive enclosure had occurred in recent memory. The herbage of the park, they swore, was worthless because ‘since the enclosure of the . . . park, only deer are to be found there, and the agistment of other animals is prohibited’.13 A royal park had existed since at least 1223, when Henry III ordered ‘his park of Clarendon’ to be enclosed as necessary,14 although this may be ‘the king’s old park within [Clarendon] park’ mentioned in 1348 (probably the ‘Inner Park’ just north of the palace in Figure 1).15 In turn the park lay inside Clarendon Forest (see Figure 2), and in one form or another it provided a setting for a palace that, in the reign of Henry III, was embellished and enlarged to a state ‘only marginally less magnificent’ than the Palace of Westminster.16 Edward I, although seemingly not as fond of the rural retreat as his father, hunted there often and engineered some landscaping improvements such as the trenchia (probably rides) that still survive today as the Upper and Lower Trenches (Figure 1). In contrast Edward II seems to have shown little interest, and at the time the 1317 mandate was issued there is no evidence that he had yet visited. For what reasons did the imparkment take place? Why Edward 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

15 16

E 36/75, fols 29–30. E 32/204, m. 3. E 32/208, m. 1; E 36/75, fol. 30. SC 6/1050/5; E 101/542/17; E 101/499/1; E 101/502/15; E 101/460/16. SC 6/1050/5. For a full discussion of attention given to the park pale from the early thirteenth to the midseventeenth century see Richardson, Medieval Forest of Clarendon, chapter 5. C 47/11/8/10. ‘Rex … venditoribus cableicii de Clarendon’ … salutem. Mandamus vobis quod de cableicio nostro claudi faciatis parcum nostrum de Clarendon sicut necesse fuit …’ Rot. Litt. Claus., I, p. 541). Despite an extensive search, no documentary evidence for a park at Clarendon has been found before 1223. CCR 1346–49, p. 465. James and Robinson, Clarendon Palace, p. 8. For Clarendon Forest see R. Grant, ‘Forests’, in VCH, Wiltshire, IV, ed. E. Crittall (Oxford, 1959), pp. 391–457; Richardson, Medieval Forest of Clarendon, passim.

28

Amanda Richardson

Figure 1. Clarendon Park, showing aspects of its economy and the possible site of a demesne wood. Adapted from King Alfred’s College Consultancy, Clarendon Park, Salisbury, Wiltshire: Archaeology, History and Ecology–English Heritage Survey Grant for Presentation II, English Heritage Project Number 1750 (Winchester, 1996), figs 8.1, 9.1. All work in the 1996 KACC report was undertaken under the direction of Dr Christopher Gerrard and Professor Tom James.

‘Hedging, Ditching and other Improper Occupations’

29

II? Why 1317? And what effect might the imparkment have had on subsequent landscape processes? Of the above questions ‘why 1317?’ should be addressed first. Almost certainly the imparkment, accompanied by works on the palace, was carried out due to Edward II’s plans to hold a parliament at Clarendon early in 1317. There was unseemly haste in the king’s preparations for his first ever recorded visit that year, not to mention a degree of optimism regarding the timescale. In December 1316 an order was placed for 100 oaks to be used for repairs to the palace ‘as the king intends coming thither within a month’.17 The optimism was misplaced, as in February the Wiltshire collectors of the sixteenth were ordered to add 100 marks to the £100 they had already provided for building repairs. And at the same time Gilbert de Middleton, a household knight, was ordered to Clarendon ‘as the king wishes to have a colloquium with him and twelve others of his council’.18 It seems likely that the park was enlarged and improved in order to provide a grand setting for the meeting, in a show of royal authority and power. Although he had not visited Clarendon during the first decade of his reign, Edward II appears to have been an active park-enlarger, at least in his most prominent rural residences. For example, he had taken the sizeable area of approximately 1,000 acres into the park at Windsor in 1308,19 and other cases doubtless exist. Yet Edward is not remembered chiefly for his love of hunting. Instead contemporaries complained of rather less seigneurial pursuits – particularly, according to the royal nuncio Robert le Messager following the defeat at Bannockburn, his unseemly interest in hedging and ditching ‘and other improper occupations’ (‘intendere circa fossata facienda et ad fodendum et eciam ad alia indecencia’).20 Might the two have been connected? Perhaps the one gave rise to the other, and the king’s unorthodox proclivities were more metaphorical than real. The distaste for royalty taking part in activities considered below their station is remarkably enduring in England, and Edward II is not the only monarch whose interest in manual labour has caused comment. ‘Farmer’ George III, ‘Prince Albert the British Farmer’ (according to Punch magazine in 1843),21 and most recently Prince Charles with his cultivation of organic crops, have each been lampooned for playing at farming. However none have earned the opprobrium that contemporaries reserved for Edward II and his interest in rustic crafts. Historiographically we have moved on from early twentieth-century attempts to label him clinically insane due to his flouting of contemporary conventions.22 Indeed it has recently been suggested that the lack of a father or mother figure in Edward’s formative years prompted his apparent willingness to seek affection and friendship even from manual workers.23 However we should not lose sight of the fact that in the early fourteenth century, codes of conduct did not permit a monarch’s preference for the company of workmen.24 It is this aspect of Edward II’s unorthodox hobbies, however exagger17 CCR 1313–18, p. 384. 18 See N. Fryde, The Tyranny and Fall of Edward II, 1321–1326 (Cambridge, 1979), p. 25. 19 G. Astill, ‘Windsor in the Context of Medieval Berkshire’, in Windsor: Medieval Archaeology, Art

20 21 22 23 24

and Architecture of the Thames Valley, BAA Conference Transactions 25, ed. L. Keen and E. Scarff (Leeds, 2002), pp. 1–14 (p. 11). M. McKisack, The Fourteenth Century (Oxford, 1959), p. 95, n. 3. See J. Roberts, Royal Landscape: The Gardens and Parks of Windsor (London, 1997), fig. 89. See H. Johnstone, ‘The Eccentricities of Edward II’, EHR 48 (1933), pp. 264–7 (p. 265, n. 1). P. Doherty, Isabella and the Strange Death of Edward II (London, 2003), pp. 23–4. M. Prestwich, The Three Edwards: War and State in England 1272–1377 (London, 1980), pp. 80–1.

30

Amanda Richardson

Figure 2. Clarendon Forest and Park c. 1327. To the south is Melchet Forest, which came under the same jurisdiction. Adapted from R. Grant, ‘Forests’, in VCH, Wiltshire, IV, ed. E. Crittall (Oxford, 1959), pp. 391–457 (p. 454).

‘Hedging, Ditching and other Improper Occupations’

31

ated, that would have rankled most with courtiers and chroniclers alike. As Ralph Higden (d. 1364) commented ‘he forsook the company of lords and sought out the company of harlots, singers, jesters, carters, delvers, ditchers, rowers … and other craftsmen’.25 Edward II, ‘fair of body and great of strength’,26 was no stranger to physical fitness. He apparently took particular enjoyment in boating, and knowledge of his tastes was widespread enough for the Scots to taunt the English with a song mocking oarsmen’s chants; ‘you have lost your men at Bannockburn with “Heavalow” … would the king of England have won Scotland with “Rumbalow”?’27 But as to manual labour, whether he physically wielded a spade or pushed a wheelbarrow is not easy to ascertain. ‘Robert the Messenger’s comments mentioned above, made in the lost hopes of glorious chivalric victory, have been made much of by historians – perhaps rashly considering the rather murky connections exposed by Hilda Johnstone – in conjunction with scattered references from the Household Accounts.28 But iron and plaster bought for ‘the private works of the king’ seem a rather ambiguous foundation on which to base the king’s reputed fondness for menial labour.29 Even Higden tempered his account with the caveat ‘if men shall believe what is commonly told’, and Johnstone has pointed out that Robert le Messager probably ‘… singled out for mention such pursuits as would seem unbecoming in a gentleman to his interlocutor, [a sub-bailiff] … accustomed to supervise humble peasants engaged in such tasks’.30 It is certainly possible that digging, which crops up often enough in contemporary complaints as to border on obsession, was selected for comment due to the low status of ditchers as unskilled labourers. After all, Adam delved as a consequence of divine punishment after the Fall, and Langland’s Davy the Ditcher, never more than one step away from hunger, provides a metaphor for those on the lowest, most precarious rung on the career ladder of the 1380s. In the prophesied famine, Hunger tells Piers Plowman, ‘fruytes shal faille … and derthe be justice, and Dawe the Dykere deye for hunger’.31 A further consideration is that labouring in the fourteenth century was not equated almost entirely with masculinity in the way that it is today. Anthony Quiney has gone so far as to say that ‘female unskilled labour was … fairly common on building sites’.32 Indeed it is noteworthy here that women made up well over half of a veritable army of 243 ditchers at Linlithgow in 1302, presumably employed in excavating Edward I’s earth and wood fortress at the royal residence there, itself

25 J. R. Lumby, ed., Polychronicon Ranulphi Higden monachi Cestrensis, 9 vols, Rolls Series (London,

1865–86), VIII, p. 298.

26 Ibid. 27 Prestwich, Three Edwards, p. 81. 28 Johnstone notes that in 1315 a Robert le Messager came under the protection of Walter Reynolds,

29 30 31 32

archbishop of Canterbury, and Queen Isabella – as she says, an interesting connection ‘in view of their association twelve years later in that more active criticism which dislodged Edward from his throne’. She posits two Roberts as likely sources of the quote, one who may have wished to pose as a ‘knowledgeable veteran’, and another who may have grown disillusioned in the service of an unpopular and unsuccessful master (‘Eccentricities of Edward II’, pp. 266–7). Prestwich, Three Edwards, pp. 80–1. Johnstone, ‘Eccentricities of Edward II’, p. 265; Polychronicon, VIII, p. 298. A. V. C. Schmidt, ed., William Langland, The Vision of Piers Plowman: A Complete Edition of the B-Text, (London, 1978), p. 77. A. Quiney, Town Houses of Medieval Britain (London, 2003), p. 64.

32

Amanda Richardson

first documented in the previous year.33 Interestingly, many of Quiney’s several examples date from before, rather than after, the Black Death. As well as the 140 diggers mentioned above, and various female suppliers to the building trade, there are the York women paid 1d each for working alongside masons, carpenters and plasterers in 1327.34 Thus the king’s alleged rustic pursuits did not even lend him an aura of masculinity in the way they might today. It is possible that what also lay behind contemporary complaints was the increased privatisation of landscapes manifested in the fencing-off and enlargement of royal hunting-spaces in the early fourteenth century – or at least the shift in royal policy aimed at taking back Crown land such as the Clarendon assarts discussed above. Hedging and ditching are, after all, activities associated with the erecting of new park pales – and thus the enlargement of deer parks. But scholars of landscape have tended to focus on the reign of Edward III, partly because historians have sought to ascertain the effect of the Black Death on the ways in which landscapes were managed. This said, during that reign status and power were apparently perceived as resting as much in royal landscapes as in the king’s houses themselves. In June 1339, when the king was in Flanders, orders went out that hunting should not take place on royal land without special licence since ‘the king has learned that the beasts in his forests, parks and … chaces are destroyed after his departure from the realm’.35 While such concerns were doubtless far from new, it is noteworthy that Henry III, in contrast, had worried that ‘the buildings … of the lord king’ were threatened by decay and depredation during his forced absences of the early 1260s.36 The foregoing leads to the suggestion that a new focus on landscape arose at least as early as the first quarter of the fourteenth century, for several reasons. First, there is the contraction of areas under forest law from the turn of the century, which, it has been argued, led to the increased creation of royal deer parks in compensation for lost royal hunting-grounds.37 Charles Young has described the years 1315–16 as the most significant for the state of the forests thereafter, and for the future of the forest system,38 and the Clarendon imparkment of 1317 clearly fits this timescale. In the parliament of January 1316, in which the Ordainer earl of Lancaster seized power, Edward II was obliged to accept the nationwide perambulations conceded (briefly) by his father in 1300.39 These had aimed to reduce afforested areas considerably, and at Clarendon the idea seems to have been to reduce the forest to a size not much bigger than what is now the park.40 Perhaps this resulted in a perceived need physically to ‘ring-fence’ the area in order to protect the landscape around the palace from encroachment. Significantly, at Easter 1316, the king made further concessions regarding areas under forest law on condition that all demesne woods should remain afforested, and it is probable that that at Clarendon comprised much of the land imparked the following year. Then, in August 1316, the justices of the forest 33 Quiney, Town Houses, p. 64; J. G. Dunbar, Scottish Royal Palaces: The Architecture of the Royal Resi-

dences during the Late Medieval and Early Renaissance Periods (East Linton, 1999), p. 5.

34 Quiney, Town Houses, p. 64. 35 CCR 1339–41, p. 258. 36 R. F. Treharne and I. J. Sanders, eds, Documents of the Baronial Movement of Reform and Rebellion 37 38 39 40

1258–1267 (Oxford, 1973), p. 217. Italics added. Bond, ‘Deer Parks and Landscape Parks’. C. R. Young, The Royal Forests of Medieval England (Leicester, 1979), p. 143. Young, Royal Forests, pp. 143–4. For the 1300 perambulation see C 260/136/31, no. 2.

‘Hedging, Ditching and other Improper Occupations’

33

were ordered to drive deer into the agreed afforested districts,41 which at Clarendon, according to the 1300 perambulation, would have been the area we now know as Clarendon Park. A response to this loss of Crown rights may have been wholesale enclosure of a place where the king’s deer might be held more securely. The increased delineation of palatial landscapes might also reflect heightened social insecurity. At the risk of raising arguments already rehearsed by historians concerning moated sites, gateways and town walls, perhaps increased hedging and fencing was a reaction to amplified levels of poaching. Certainly the enlargement of Clarendon Park took place after years of threatened civil war and at the peak of upheavals in the king’s council. Significantly, large gangs of men – including members of the household of the earl of Lancaster – are recorded as having entered Clarendon Forest with bows, arrows, dogs, cords and snares in 1314.42 The imparkment also came at the height of the famines and murrains of 1315–22. The resulting economic crisis prompted amplified levels of poaching generally, as well as the frequent exceeding of customary tithes of venison, and it has been suggested that this led to an escalation of tension between lords and their social inferiors that was made manifest in the landscape.43 But if the threat of poaching, politically charged or otherwise, was at the root of the 1317 imparkment, the measure was not a success – unless, of course, the park in its present form did not exist before Edward II’s enlargement. For Clarendon Park (not itself named in forest documents prior to the 1280s), numbers of deer taken dip considerably in the years just prior to 1320, when the imparkment took place and new paling was erected. But over 30 deer are recorded as stolen in the 1320s, followed by approximately 230 in the 1350s (Figure 3). While the data confirm the phenomenon of frequent poaching on Edward III’s estates during his absences at the French wars, the peak is, of course, also due to cases recorded in the 1355 forest eyre, many dating back to just after the previous eyre of 1330. Nevertheless, numbers of deer taken illegally from Clarendon Forest recorded in 1355 (38) are comparatively negligible (Figure 4). Indeed, through the early part of the fourteenth century never more than 12 are recorded as having been poached from outside the park pale. These figures may indicate that after 1317 the park was better policed than the forest, so that more poachers were caught red-handed. It would hardly be surprising if it were the stronger draw, given the numbers of deer it could hold. Although sure figures do not exist for the fourteenth century, 2,438 fallow deer are reported to have died of disease alone in the park in 1471–3, and in the late seventeenth century the keepers told John Aubrey they could remember a time when they had charge of a 7,000-strong herd.44 Ironically the newly enlarged and embellished park of the early fourteenth century may have itself represented a symbolic target; its massive size and ostentatious new paling (not to mention the presence of a royal palace within) serving only to enhance the status of successful poachers. The effect of the fourteenth-century economy on parks in general was nothing if not complex. Many disappeared altogether after climate deterioration decimated 41 R. Grant, The Royal Forests of England (Stroud, 1991), pp. 159–62; Young, Royal Forests, pp. 143–4. 42 E 32/207, m. 3. Clarendon Palace was also broken into in 1311 (CPR 1307–13, p. 368). 43 C. Dyer, Standards of Living in the Later Middle Ages: Social Change in England c.1200–1520

(Cambridge, 1989), p. 265; W. C. Jordan, Europe in the High Middle Ages (London, 2002), p. 289.

44 DL 39/2/20, mm. 2, 15; J. McWilliams, ‘Clarendon Park 1600–1750: From Medieval Deer Park to

Post-Medieval Estate’ (unpublished BA dissertation, King Alfred’s College, Winchester, 1996), p. 39.

34

Amanda Richardson Figure 3. Deer taken from Clarendon Park, 1205–1375.

Figure 4. Deer taken from Clarendon Forest, 1205–1375

park herds, followed by rising maintenance costs due to demographic decline.45 On the other hand, with the easing of pressure on land those with the means – including the Crown – were able to enlarge what they already owned. Nevertheless, in the parks that did survive, land-management seems to have been reappraised particularly after the Black Death, possibly since the keeping of land solely for deer was increasingly seen as extravagant.46 The result was a tendency for compartmentalisation, so that parks increasingly encompassed pasture, rabbit warrens, and 45 A. Taigel and T. Williamson, Parks and Gardens (London, 1993), pp. 32–3. 46 J. Bond, ‘Deer Parks and Landscape Parks’.

‘Hedging, Ditching and other Improper Occupations’

35

coppices. This was certainly the case at Clarendon, whose rabbits are first mentioned in the 1355 forest eyre.47 By 1396, they were significant enough economically for Nicholas Ricoun’s appointment as launderer with custody not only of the deer, but also of ‘the coneys of the laund’,48 and by the early fifteenth century a veritable industry was in operation, with 2,160 individual rabbits culled in 1419–21 alone.49 Underwood too was a fundamental part of Clarendon’s economy, and from the reign of Edward III mandates survive giving detailed orders for delineated coppices to be made. In 1334 John de Harnham was appointed to make ‘new’ coppices in the park, and his successor, William Randolf, was to enclose them in 1336 with a low hay, or hedge.50 Thus, most of the surviving coppices at Clarendon may date from this time (see Figure 5). Later, in 1354, John Everard and John de Harnham were commanded to enclose coppices in the forest and park with hedges.51 This was far from a localised phenomenon, as in December 1329 surveyors had been appointed to survey and cut all underwood in the forests South of Trent, and ‘[to enclose] the places where the underwood is cut … with dead hedges for the preservation thereof ’.52 It is important to remember that compartmentalised landscapes did not owe everything to economic necessity. At Clarendon, documents suggest the fourteenth-century warrens were located on or around Ashley Hill, the high scarp near the entrance to the park from Salisbury (Figure 1).53 Attention has been drawn to such siting as a signifier of very high status, enhancing the visibility of warrens in the landscape and thereby ‘demonstrating their owner’s “ownership” of the territory in which they sit’.54 This is not only elite management of the landscape, but also manipulation of the symbolism of that landscape. In this context it may be significant that alongside his work on defining the coppices, de Harnham had also been employed by Edward III to make a pond in the park,55 a few years before work began on Edward III’s Lodge on the Laund, discussed below. It is possible that the pond is that which still exists outside Savage’s Farm Cottage, in what would have been the medieval Launds, and whose origins cannot be later than the seventeenth century. The provision of water is problematic at Clarendon, whose chalk-withflints geology in the palace area could not support the ‘watery landscapes’ fashionable by the early fourteenth century.56 Thus the excavation of ponds represents ostentatious control of capital and labour. To suggest a definitive divide between function and symbolism in the medieval landscape is inadvisable, but it is fair to say that in a royal deer park, display was at least as important as economy. At any rate it is unlikely that de Harnham’s pond was intended to provide water for the deer. Documentary evidence shows decisively that Clarendon’s park herds were almost exclusively fallow deer, which, as a species originating in the arid environment of the Middle East, neither need nor enjoy water 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

E 32/267, mm. 6d, 13. CPR 1391–96, p. 683. SC 6/1050/18. CCR 1333–37, p. 425. CCR 1327–30, p. 341; CCR 1333–37, pp. 268–9; CFR 1327–37, p. 475; CFR 1347–56, p. 417. CFR 1327–37, p. 179. See Richardson, Medieval Forest of Clarendon, chapter 2. D. and M. Stocker, ‘Sacred Profanity: the Theology of Rabbit Breeding and the Symbolic Landscape of the Warren’, World Archaeology 28 (1996), pp. 265–72 (p. 268). 55 CCR 1333–37, p. 425. 56 M. Johnson, Behind the Castle Gate: From Medieval to Renaissance (London, 2002), p. 45.

36

Amanda Richardson

Figure 5. Reconstruction of the late-medieval deer park, showing coppices, the launds where the deer were kept to the north and north-west, and the wood-pasture area to the south and south-west. Reproduced with minor amendments by kind permission of Christopher Gerrard, from King Alfred’s College Consultancy, Clarendon Park, Salisbury, Wiltshire: Archaeology, History and Ecology – English Heritage Survey Grant for Presentation II, English Heritage Project Number 1750 (Winchester, 1996), fig. 8.1.

‘Hedging, Ditching and other Improper Occupations’

37

in the same way as do red deer.57 Similarly coppices, although decidedly run for profit, are described in Gaston Phoebus’s works as suitable for attracting a variety of prey, and underwood is frequently depicted in hunting treatises as a link between fields and dense woodland – an integral and aesthetic element in the late-medieval hunting landscape.58 Clearly in enclosed spaces like deer parks (as opposed to the more open hunting spaces of royal forests) owners were able to sculpt an apparently natural and wild ‘elite paradise on earth’.59 Indeed the capacity of late-medieval hunting landscapes to advertise status and power has not escaped the notice of scholars.60 Some have noted common themes including staged processional routes, the manipulation of views, the employment of irregular boundaries in park pales, and the incorporation of large areas of woodland,61 all of which are evident at Clarendon. Changes in hunting practice, themselves bound up with display and status, are perhaps the most significant reason for increased attention to seigneurial landscapes. By the early 1300s, pursuit of the buck was seen as the most knightly form of hunting,62 and at Clarendon around the turn of the thirteenth to the fourteenth century there was a clear shift from royal sojourns mainly in the doe season (1 November to 29 February) to visits in high summer, which is the buck season (30 April to 1 August).63 It would be useful to ascertain whether this pattern is echoed elsewhere, as the hunting of bucks, as opposed to the culling of does, may be responsible for many of the landscape processes discernible in the reigns of Edward II and Edward III. In particular the new fashion may explain the park enlargements of the early and middle years of the century. By the 1350s at the latest, hunting on horseback with hounds had superseded other forms of hunting,64 and this would require an extremely large park the size of Windsor or Clarendon. Significantly Edward II, the earliest medieval king recorded as having hunted in person at Clarendon, took ‘88 great bucks … in the park’, apparently in one day in August 1326.65 It is also noteworthy that the earliest English hunting treatise, probably dictated in 1327, is that of William Twiti, one of Edward’s huntsmen.66 Hunting was increasingly perceived as a signifier of courtliness and nobility through the fourteenth (and into the fifteenth) century. Twiti’s original account 57 See D. and N. Chapman, Fallow Deer (Powys, 1997), pp. 109, 179; M. Baxter-Brown, Richmond

58 59

60

61 62 63

64 65 66

Park: the History of a Royal Deer Park (London, 1985), p. 22. For a full discussion of deer species at Clarendon from the thirteenth to the seventeenth century see Richardson, Medieval Forest of Clarendon, chapter 2. I am grateful to Aleks Pluskowski for this information. A. Pluskowski, ‘Power and Predation: Archaeological and Legal Evidence for Elite Hunting Space in Medieval Northern Europe’, paper given at the International Medieval Congress, University of Leeds, 2003. For example S. Mileson, ‘Landscape, Power and Politics: the Place of the Park in Later Medieval Aristocratic Society’ (unpublished PhD dissertation, Keble College, Oxford); Richardson, Medieval Forest of Clarendon; James and Gerrard, The King’s Private Landscape. Johnson, Behind the Castle Gate, p. 52. Chapman and Chapman, Fallow Deer, p. 184. J. Clifton-Bligh and D. Griffith, Lowland Deer Management: A Handbook for Land Managers (Fordingbridge, 2000), p. 61. The dates given are current. Medieval seasons were approximately the same, although more variable and sometimes influenced by local factors (Richardson, Medieval Forest of Clarendon, chapter 2). Chapman and Chapman, Fallow Deer, p. 184. C 145/106/8/2. See B. Danielsson, ed., William Twiti: The Art of Hunting, 1327 (Stockholm, 1977); A. Rooney, Hunting in Middle English Literature (Cambridge, 1993), p. 8.

38

Amanda Richardson

records only three variants of the hunting cry, whereas the edition of c. 1450 contains sixteen and the Master of the Game (1405) describes a full 27.67 This attentiveness to arcane seigneurial ritual is testament to the role of the hunt in shaping social and cultural boundaries, which became replicated in the physical boundaries and performative spaces in which courtliness and nobility were reinforced during the chase. At Clarendon the park clearly became a more formalised and administratively-demarcated space from the reign of Edward II, evidenced by the fact that the first known launderer, Griffin Vaughan, was appointed in 1324 not long after the enclosure.68 The spread of literacy through the fourteenth century would also have conditioned the way park landscapes were perceived. It is likely that the proliferation of popular literature, in which parks were depicted in a highly idealised fashion, did much to increase the popularity of the chase. As John Cummins has said, huntsmen too wrote, read, and listened to, imaginative literature and ‘it is not outlandish to suppose that … an awareness of the literary may have strongly conditioned the delight of the practical’.69 This new perception may have encouraged the predominance of deer parks over more open hunting reserves. Forests could not be sculpted in the same way as could parks, in which the seigneurial class could ‘create … the illusion of being amid a limitless wilderness with infinitely renewable sources of game’.70 There is plenty of evidence of downright landscaping of enclosed hunting spaces under Edward III, and from early in the reign. At Woodstock in 1334 the king ordered the mill in the park to be removed and re-erected outside it,71 and the ponds and coppices at Clarendon have already been discussed. Indeed as early as November 1328, immediately after a royal visit to the Salisbury area, an order was issued to fell timber in Chute Forest to enclose the launds ‘because the enclosure about them is so broken down that [the king’s] deer can get out …’, followed by a similar mandate in February 1331.72 Nonetheless, the park was evidently well-stocked, because in August of the same year 60 bucks were ordered to be taken from ‘the park and laund’.73 The reign of Edward III saw the greatest expenditure of the later Middle Ages on Clarendon Park (Figure 6). However, this was as much due to climatic conditions as a response to the poaching of previous decades. The pale was severely damaged in the ‘great wind’ of 1362, prompting an extensive campaign of repairs which seems to have encompassed the entire park.74 Forty-five carpenters felled, split and trimmed oaks and repaired the pale with boards and timber between 24 June and 1 August 1362 alone, while six carpenters shored it up and made wedges (cavill’) to strengthen it. Five men from ‘various villages’ dug and packed the pits into which the posts and shores would sit, loaded carts with timber and secured the boards with hammers, while 24 carts, each with four horses, went continually back and forth

67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74

Danielsson, Twiti, p. 14. CPR 1324–27, p. 27. J. G. Cummins, The Hound and the Hawk: The Art of Medieval Hunting (London, 1988), p. 9. Pluskowski, ‘Power and Predation’. J. Bond and K. Tiller, Blenheim: Landscape for a Palace (Stroud, 1997), p. 37. CCR 1327–30, pp. 332, 329, 341; CCR 1330–33, p. 185. CPR 1330–34, p. 161. CPR 1361–64, pp. 177, 183; E 101/460/2, mm. 1–2.

‘Hedging, Ditching and other Improper Occupations’

39

Figure 6. Recorded expenditure on Clarendon Park pale

carrying timber.75 Subsequent renovations in 1370–77, again following strong winds, cost nearly £140, probably because so many old palings had been reused in the 1360s.76 Although the Clarendon repairs were prompted by destruction, the focus on landscape is commensurate with Edward III’s tastes. Walsingham, in his obituary for the king, remarked on Edward’s love of hunting, and he spent an average of £80 a year on his dogs and huntsmen compared to no more than £18 a year by both his immediate successors.77 Not surprisingly, then, the reign is characterised by attention to royal hunting spaces. The park at Ludgershall (Wiltshire) was enlarged in 1348, and that at Windsor (Berkshire) in 1359, including the enclosure of the manor of Wychemere at a cost of £184.78 In 1366 around 160 acres were taken into the park at King’s Langley (Hertfordshire), 144 acres into the grounds of Leeds Castle (Kent) in 1369, and in the early- to mid-1370s land was added to Thundersley (Essex), East Worldham (Hampshire) and Gravesend (Kent). At Ludgershall, merchants and the tenants of the manor were compensated for the closure in 1348 of paths and ways that had led to the town through the newly-imparked land.79 Similarly payment for loss of tithes and arable was made in 1365 after the king added the manor of Wychemere to Windsor Great Park. In this case he enclosed the manor house between 1359 and 1363, improving it from 1364 so that it could be used as a royal lodge.80 Edward III was probably the most prolific royal lodge-builder of the Middle Ages. By the end of his reign Windsor Great Park was surrounded by no less than five royal manor houses, and four of the five lodges in the New Forest (Hampshire) 75 E 101/460/2, mm. 1–2. 76 See E 101/542/12; E 101/542/17; E 101/460/2, mm. 1–2. 77 Historia Anglicana, ed. H. T. Riley, 2 vols, Rolls Series (London, 1863–4), I, pp. 327–8; C. Given-

Wilson, The Royal Household and the King’s Affinity: Service, Politics and Finance in England, 1360–1413 (London, 1986), p. 61. 78 G. Astill, ‘Windsor’, p. 11. 79 Stephen Mileson, personal communication. 80 Astill, ‘Windsor’, p. 11.

40

Amanda Richardson

had been built or rebuilt simultaeously in 1358.81 These were buildings intended to impress; their roofs built with slate brought from Cornwall.82 At Clarendon the romantically named ‘Lodge on the Laund’ was erected in 1341, and finished with Chilmark-type stone from Tisbury. The lodge was a product of Edward III’s direct interest, as a visit to London made in 1354 by John de Hauydon to ‘meet with the king’s council concerning the well made at the Lodge and other negotiations touching works at [Clarendon]’ attests.83 Its name suggests it was sited in the launds in the north of the park (see Figure 5) and it was probably near the site of today’s Queen Manor Farm (roughly where ‘Picket Sanfoin’ is marked in Figure 1, above), which contains early fourteenth-century reused timbers.84 The lodge comprised a hall, two chambers with chimneys and garderobes, a cellar with a pantry and buttery, and its own kitchen, larder and stable. Its siting indicates that it was connected with deer-management and hunting, and the ditch and pale that surrounded it, topped with a hurdle fence, reveals it also as a classic park lodge.85 Much of the evidence for park enlargement and embellishment under Edward III comes from late in the reign, and historians have interpreted the lodges in particular as underscoring the increased status of the king’s inner household, and/or providing privacy for an ageing king no longer able or willing to participate fully in court life. The significance of personal input should not be overlooked. Maintenance was carried out on an ambitious scale on most of Clarendon’s ancillary buildings, including the warden’s lodge, in the early 1370s,86 and it is possible that the advisers of the by then senile Edward III, whose 1370 visit was the furthest he ventured from London that year,87 envisaged the palace as a retreat for his old age and attended to its setting accordingly. This said, the trend for ‘spreading out’ into the wider landscape under Edward III, manifested most clearly in his lodges, is clearly the continuation of a process that began much earlier. The manipulation of landscapes so as to advertise royal power went back at least to early in the reign of Edward II, and had its origins in the threatened diminution of forested areas in the closing years of Edward I. It has been said that the creation and extension of royal parks at Windsor in the later Middle Ages ‘represented a major change in land-use and an extension of royal prerogative’.88 This is no less the case at Clarendon, and indeed in the fourteenth century generally. The reaction to the amplification of this trend in the first instance may be manifested in the reports of ‘hedging and ditching’ that often featured in complaints about Edward II. Indeed it may be no coincidence that protest songs dating from the turn of the century, when royal forests in particular were contested ground, include utopian visions of open woodland landscapes that would be repeated throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, most notably in the Robin Hood poems. As early as c. 1305–7, around the time the Crown was inquiring into the arrenting of the Clarendon assarts discussed above, the eponymous narrator 81 Astill, ‘Windsor’, p. 11; O. Rackham, ‘Lodges and Standings’, in M. W. Hanson, ed., Epping Forest

through the Eyes of the Naturalist (Romford, 1992), pp. 8–17 (p. 8).

82 Rackham, ‘Lodges and Standings’, p. 8. 83 E 101/459/29, m. 3d. 84 For a full discussion of the ‘Lodge on the Laund’, including its relationship with Queen Manor, see 85 86 87 88

Richardson, Medieval Forest of Clarendon, chapter 3. E 101/593/20, m. 4d. See Richardson, Medieval Forest of Clarendon, chapter 3. James and Robinson, Clarendon Palace, p. 40. Astill, ‘Windsor’, p. 11.

‘Hedging, Ditching and other Improper Occupations’

41

of The Outlaw’s Song of Trailbaston implored ‘… come to me, to the green wood of Belregard, where there is no entanglement, just wild animals and pleasant shade’.89 Several factors influencing fourteenth-century landscape processes have been put forward here. First there is the contraction of royal forest, which certainly had an effect on royal policy generally. Such fears were unfounded in the case of Clarendon Forest, which remained in existence until the late sixteenth century, but the diminution of royal forests elsewhere was certainly real. By the 1330s the once vast Chute Forest, was ‘almost disafforested’, and others in Wiltshire were severely diminished.90 On one level, then, royal imparkment was a reaction to the possible loss of control over what were hitherto Crown lands reserved exclusively for royal hunting. Indeed it might be said that in this respect the Clarendon imparkment achieved that aim, since when Charles II disparked the park in 1664, he ‘alienated the last remnant of the royal forests of Wiltshire’.91 But the royal forests had been contested ground, and a major political issue, throughout the thirteenth century also. What made the difference in the fourteenth century was the economy, not only after the Black Death but also from 1315 to 1322 – exactly when the Clarendon imparkment took place. In turn this led, in some cases, to compartmentalisation and the sculpting of park interiors. Changes in hunting fashion also had an effect, although this cannot be divorced from the advertisement of status and power in the landscape. Increased poaching was both a cause and effect of the escalation of social tensions made manifest in the clawing back of Crown land, evident in the enlargement of deer parks and in the erection of park pales. It is unsurprising that in a century during which the social order was often questioned and seemed so frequently about to be overturned, that same social order was inscribed in the wider landscape for all to see. In this respect the contrast with the following century is noteworthy. Whereas fourteenth-century English kings metaphorically colonised the wider landscape, enlarging deer parks and building hunting lodges often some distance from the main royal residence, late fifteenth-century royalty can be said to have retreated into palaces and their more immediate surrounds. Richard II’s islet in the Thames near the palace of Sheen, ‘La Nayght’, and Henry V’s moated ‘Pleasaunce in the Marsh’ at Kenilworth, fashioned around 1414,92 may be seen as metaphorical last gasps of the former trend. As bounded environments, islands, like parks, are easily modelled into ‘elite playgrounds’, and each was visually removed from its respective royal residence, so that these pleasure grounds (the literal meaning of ‘pleasaunce’) shared the function and symbolism of Edward III’s lodges. But eventually fifteenthand sixteenth-century royal apartments went upwards, in the shape of the stacked lodging, rather than outwards (into the wider landscape). In turn this led to an emphasis on the vertical view and the elaboration of gardens. Even the deer courses that probably first appeared in the reign of Edward IV, such as that at Windsor, were built relatively close to residences and designed specifically to be viewed from high-status apartments.93 I would argue that, along with knot gardens, heraldic beasts on poles, galleries and the other paraphernalia employed in Yorkist and Tudor 89 90 91 92

T. Wright, ed., The Political Songs of England (London, 1839), pp. 231–6 (p. 234). Grant, VCH, Wiltshire, IV, p. 425. Ibid., p. 401. See T. B. James, The Royal Palaces of Medieval England (London, 1990), p. 134; S. Thurley, The Royal Palaces of Tudor England, p. 76. 93 For the Windsor course, see Roberts, Royal Landscape, p. 138.

42

Amanda Richardson

‘inner landscapes’, they represent a show of royal power and status aimed not at the world at large, as was the case in the fourteenth century, but squarely at the social stratum on which royal power by now depended: the nobility. It has not been the intention here to suggest that the fourteenth century saw the advent of the ‘English landscape garden before the English landscaped garden’,94 nor to claim Edward II – or Edward III – as direct precursors of Capability Brown. However, a case has been made for viewing the former as more than a weekend ‘hedger and ditcher’; more work should be done by historians on landscape processes during his reign. It is impossible to prove decisively that the 1,737-hectare Clarendon Park came into existence in 1317 at Edward II’s instigation. However, there is a good case for arguing that the biggest deerpark ever to have existed in England was the product of a century when authority and power became embedded in the landscape in an apparent attempt to make the social order appear natural.95

94 Johnson, Behind the Castle Gate, p. 53, quoting M. Leslie (1993). 95 Cf. Johnson, Behind the Castle Gate, p. 53.

Paying for the Wedding

PAYING FOR THE WEDDING: EDWARD III AS FUNDRAISER 1332–31 A. K. McHardy In 1331, at the tournament organised by his friend William de Montacute in Cheapside, London, the king’s sister Eleanor was accorded a prominent place in the associated procession, where her beauty made a strong impression. There was a sound practical reason for this: Eleanor was on the marriage market. Eleanor was the elder of the king’s two sisters and her marriage had been of diplomatic importance for a number of years. In 1325, when she was seven, her father had tried to arrange her wedding to Alfonso V of Castile. In 1329 she was proposed as bride of the future John II of France, while in 1330 there were plans to marry her to Pedro, the heir to Alfonso IV of Aragon. Now, in 1331 the prospective bridegroom was a widower, Reginald (or Reynald) II, count of Guelders. This time negotiations bore fruit and the couple were married in May of the following year.2 Edward III wanted to see his sister off in style, for arranging her marriage was his first successful essay into European diplomacy, and, although the wedding itself took place in Guelders, this was the first time in his reign that Edward was able to have some impact upon the arrangements for an important and joyous occasion. His own wedding, to Philippa of Hainault in January 1328, had been arranged by his mother; and so was the wedding of his younger sister Joanna (or Jeanne), who married David, the future king of Scots, an alliance which was part of the treaty of Northampton. Edward disapproved so much of the treaty that he boycotted the marriage ceremony, which took place at Berwick in July 1328. By contrast, Eleanor’s marriage to the count of Guelders gave Edward III the excuse to show off, for he was a monarch who understood very well the importance of image and style as tools of government. The need to erase the memory of his father’s dowdy court, coupled with his own enjoyment of jousting, feasting, music and drama, meant that he welcomed any excuse for ceremonial and for ordering expensive equipment and clothes.3 Indeed, he celebrated the coup by which he seized power from his mother and Mortimer in 1330 by buying himself and his 1

2

3

This piece arose from work examining the relations between crown and church in later medieval England, and thanks are due to the Arts and Humanities Research Board for help with funding this project. The paper was read at the International Medieval Congress at Kalamazoo in 2003. I should like to thank those present for their help and encouragement, especially Philip Morgan. Mark Ormrod read the revised paper and made detailed suggestions and provided precise references, and I am most grateful to him for taking so much trouble on my behalf. E. W. Safford, ‘An Account of the Expenses of Eleanor, Sister of Edward III, on the Occasion of her Marriage to Reynald, Count of Guelders’, Archaeologia 77 (1927), pp. 111–13, gives the fullest account of her early life. Eleanor was born 18 June 1318: HBC, p. 39. The couple had two sons, Reginald III and Edward, who became counts of Guelders in succession. C. Shenton, ‘The English Court and the Restoration of Royal Prestige 1327–1345’ (unpublished D.Phil. dissertation, University of Oxford, 1995).

44

A. K. McHardy

fellow conspirators a set of matching ‘aketons’, quilted jackets worn over shirts, but underneath chain mail.4 This meant that all the men involved, including the king, not only got luxurious new clothes but were also identified as part of a ‘team’. So when Eleanor married Reginald of Guelders Edward III wished to ensure that his sister should be well provided for and lavishly equipped. Much is already known about Princess Eleanor’s stylish equipage and the financial arrangements made in connection with the wedding – her bridegroom received a marriage portion of £1,000, which Edward borrowed from the Bardi of Florence.5 Some of the accounts were used by Mrs J. R. Green in her biography of Eleanor for the Lives of the Princesses of England,6 and the account book of Eleanor’s household, from its inception in April 1332 to its disbanding after her wedding, was published in 1927.7 We know that her equipage caused quite a stir, for it has been suggested that the travelling carriage for royal ladies, depicted on folio 181v of the Luttrell Psalter, shows the costly carriage made for Eleanor’s journey to her new home.8 How all this was to be paid for presented the young king with a considerable difficulty. Edward had inherited a poor financial position – not from his father, who, mistaking money for security, had amassed a considerable fortune by the time of his overthrow – but from the régime of Isabella and Mortimer. These two squandered the late king’s treasure, so that ‘the treasury was virtually empty’ at the time of their fall in 1330.9 The problem of paying for Eleanor’s wedding was compounded by Edward III’s concurrent determination to wage war upon the Scots, since English crown revenue, though it was more or less enough to keep the king solvent in peacetime, was woefully inadequate for financing warfare, and from the autumn of 1332 Edward was employing a variety of measures to raise funds. Thus in mid-September he called in all private charters for re-sealing; he arbitrarily imposed a tallage upon the royal demesne, though he was later compelled to revoke this in return for a parliamentary tax on the laity; and in March 1333 distraint of knighthood was enforced against all those whose landed revenue reached £40 a year.10 As parliament continued to be unhelpful and the king was calling his lay subjects to arms, he had to look to the church for help, and from the clergy he obtained half of the crusading tenths raised by Pope John XXII in 1330. In seeking funds directly from English churchmen and other vulnerable groups, Edward III was following a long-established path, albeit one which was only intermittently taken.11 Henry III had inherited from his father a tradition of wringing money from the church. In 1235, for example, when Henry’s sister was marrying the emperor Frederick II, the king sought financial help from his subjects, including 4

C. Shenton, ‘Edward III and the Coup of 1330’, in The Age of Edward III, ed. J. S. Bothwell (York, 2001), p. 24. 5 CPR 1330–4, p. 269. 6 6 vols (London, 1849–55). This remains the most substantial biography of Eleanor, who is not included in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. 7 Safford, ‘Expenses of Eleanor’, pp. 111–40. 8 Shenton, ‘The English Court and the Restoration of Royal Prestige’, p. 151. The carriage is reproduced in Janet Backhouse, The Luttrell Psalter (London, 1989), p. 50. 9 Shenton, ‘Edward III and the Coup of 1330’, p. 14n. 10 J. R. Strayer, in The English Government at Work, Volume II: Fiscal Administration, ed. W. A. Morris and J. R. Strayer (Boston, 1947), pp. 3–4; Sir J. H. Ramsay, A History of the Revenues of the Kings of England, 2 vols (Oxford, 1925), II, pp. 162–4; CCR 1333–7, p. 93. 11 This tradition is succinctly described by W. M. Ormrod in The Rise of the Fiscal State in Europe, c.1200–1815, ed. R. Bonney (Oxford, 1999), pp. 27–8, and in a very helpful graph on p. 29. I am grateful to Professor Ormrod for easing my way to this publication.

Paying for the Wedding

45

a tallage of 10,000 marks from England’s Jews. In 1242, when collecting a scutage from all the knights’ fees in England to recover Poitou, the bishops claimed immunity, on the grounds that they were exempt from military service. But, like laymen who refused to fight, they were forced to pay fines for exemption from military service. As they paid up, the bishops insisted that this was not to be a precedent; the king agreed to this, but did not record his promise on the patent rolls. Pressure was also successfully applied to the heads of religious houses to contribute generously towards the same project. This aid from the prelates raised £1,912 6s 8d, which was far beyond the £600 which they were ‘legally’ bound to pay. Three years later Henry asked for an aid for marrying his infant daughter, and at least some of the higher clergy made payments; in one case at least the donation was substantial.12 This tradition languished under Edward I because he realised that he could raise far more from a subsidy voted in parliament than could be got from feudal aids to knight his first son or marry his eldest daughter. It is also clear that under Edward I the clergy were taxed very heavily by both pope and king.13 Raising money from prelates for a royal wedding in 1332 by way of an aid was the end of a tradition, and may be seen as a policy either of desperation or of ingenuity on the part of Edward III and his advisors. It is just possible that the plan to seek donations from the higher clergy was suggested by one man who would not be asked to contribute, for the treasurer at this time, unusually, though not uniquely, was not a bishop. He was Robert Ayleston, archdeacon of Berkshire, formerly keeper of the privy seal.14 It is against this background that Edward’s efforts to raise money for Eleanor’s wedding must be viewed. The process is extremely well documented: the Close Rolls recorded the sending out of requests for help to defray the costs of the wedding; TNA class C270, Ecclesiastical Miscellanea, contains six files (numbers 7 to 12) with a total of 269 letters which replied to them;15 a handful of letters have become detached and are now in the artificial class of Ancient Correspondence;16 some of the expenses involved in this process can be precisely observed, and we can discover how successful the operation was. This episode affords us the opportunity not only to observe crown–church relations in this period, but also to see how the young king went about enforcing his will. He was, after all, still comparatively inexperienced in the practice of government; royal authority, after the deposition of his father, was still fragile; he was making demands, both military and financial, upon his subjects; the church, in particular, was critical of his style of living; and popular approval of his policies could not be taken for granted. The fundraising campaign began on 26 June 1332 when letters close were addressed to a large number of churchmen requesting ‘a subsidy in aid of the expenses incurred for the marriage of the king’s sister Eleanor, to Reginald count of Guelders, the granting of which subsidy shall not be drawn into a precedent’. Nearly 300 (295, to be exact) of these begging letters were sent, addressed to all the bishops, to the dean and chapter of every cathedral, and to numerous abbots and 12 13 14 15

16

R. C. Stacey, Politics, Policy and Finance under Henry III 1216–1245 (Oxford, 1987), pp. 98–9, 188–9 and nn. In 1245 the prior of Winchester contributed £33 6s 8d, ibid., p. 212. M. Prestwich, Edward I (London, 1988), pp. 343, 411, 529. He became treasurer on 29 March 1332, and vacated the post around 9 March 1334, HBC, p. 105. A further two letters (TNA [PRO], C 270/10/1 and C 270/11/43) were not written on this matter and were assigned to these files by mistake. Unless otherwise stated, all manuscript references are to documents in The National Archives. TNA class SC 1. I am grateful to Professor Mark Ormrod for supplying these references.

46

A. K. McHardy

priors throughout England.17 But this effort was not the fourteenth-century equivalent of a mail-shot, for Edward III, like any canny modern fund-raiser, understood the value of the personal touch. So these requests for money were not transported by the usual king’s messengers but by sixteen specially selected envoys, each of whom was directed to a particular area of the country.18 A study of this group proves instructive; with two exceptions – Thomas Blaston, the former chamberlain of Chester, shortly to be a baron of the exchequer,19 and William Leicester, whose commissions, both before and after this date mark him as a man of formidable financial talent20 – they were chancery clerks. This designation covers men of varying levels of distinction. Robert Hemingburgh, for example, who had been receiving attornies in chancery since 1324 was, soon after the raising of money for the princess’s wedding, to become keeper of the rolls of chancery in Ireland.21 Thomas Capenhurst first appeared as a chancery clerk in 1328 when he was a moneylender and an attorney charged with recovering debts. A Cheshireman, he became a greater chancery clerk in 1344, if not before.22 Two West Country men, John Bruton and John Bridgewater, despite appearing in the indices of neither Tout’s Chapters nor Wilkinson’s study of Edward III’s chancery, can be shown to have had chancery careers. Bruton first appears in April 1331 as a recoverer of debt. During the 1330s he was to continue as attorney and debt collector, and was sent on another extra-curial mission for the king in 1338.23 John Bridgewater was already a money-lender and attorney in chancery from early in 1327, and by 1330 his business interests were involving him in cases concerning substantial sums.24 It is less easy to assign John Norton to a particular county with confidence, since ‘Norton’ is so common a place-name; it occurs in numerous counties from – alphabetically speaking – Cheshire to Yorkshire. However, the fact that in May 1327 John de Norton had been sent to Cheshire and the Welsh marches on the crown’s behalf, and that at the end of the same year he was acting for a Cheshire man in a major debt 17 CCR 1330–3, pp. 587–93. Also to the proctor of St Nicholas’s Abbey, Angers. On 12 Feb. 1333 letters

close were sent to Butley priory (Suffolk) and ten Yorkshire houses which had not received the letter dated the previous June: Foedera, 4 vols in 7 (London, 1816–69), II, ii, p. 853.

18 The sixteen were: Thomas Blaston, Thomas Brayton, John Briggewater, John Bruton, Thomas

19

20

21 22 23 24

Capenhurst, Thomas Gargrave, Edmund Grymesby, Robert Hemmynburgh, Robert Kellsey, Robert Kelm, William Lycestre, John Marton, John Norton, Thomas Sibthorp, Henry Stratford and John Watenhulle. He occurs as chamberlain of Chester from 7 April 1328 onwards, was appointed a baron of the exchequer on 8 Nov. 1332, and was confirmed as a baron of the exchequer of Dublin on 17 Dec.1332, CCR 1327–30, p. 273; CPR 1327–30, p. 362; CPR 1330–4, p. 378. He was joint keeper of the temporalities of the see of Worcester after the death of Thomas Cobham, August 1327. On the death of Walter Reynolds, archbishop of Canterbury, in Nov. 1327, Leicester, along with Mr John Radeswell, was appointed auditor of the accounts of the estates of the see, and later, with John Ifeld, was made keeper of the temporalities sede vacante. In Nov. 1328 he was said to be ‘always attendant in the king’s service’, while on 4 Oct.1333 he was made chancellor of the liberty of the see of Durham sede vacante, CPR 1327–30, pp. 179, 194, 319, 335; CPR 1330–4, p. 473. But see a reference to him as a chancery clerk, B. Wilkinson, The Chancery under Edward III (Manchester, 1929), p. 89n. Ibid., pp. 79n., 89n. He was probably a Yorkshireman. Ibid., p. 164 and n.; CCR 1327–30, pp. 360, 383–4, 415. CCR 1330–3, p. 307; CCR 1333–7, p. 505. One of his business associates was John Scarle (the elder) of Lincolnshire, CCR 1337–9, pp. 107, 447. CPR 1327–30, p. 3; CCR 1327–30, p. 89. On 4 Nov. 1330 William de Cheyny appointed as attorneys William de Cherlton and John de Briggewater, clerk, to prosecute the recognisance for £1,000 made to him in chancery by Alice late the wife of Roger de Moeles, CCR 1330–3, p. 165.

Paying for the Wedding

47

case suggests, though it can do no more, that Cheshire was indeed his native county.25 John Watenhulle’s origins are even more mysterious, but he was ‘an important clerk’ in the chancery, and seems to have received attorneys in Ireland.26 There is no such uncertainty about the origins of Henry Stratford. Although his position was comparatively lowly in 1332, he was one of a notable dynasty of chancery clerks, who were natives of Stratford on Avon (Warwicks.). In the late 1320s Henry was a modest money-lender, but as the kinsman of John and Robert (and Ralph) Stratford who dominated the government in the 1330s, and who all attained bishoprics, Henry was destined for promotion. By 1340 he was one of the greater clerks of chancery, and was a receiver of petitions to parliament that year. Alas for him, that was the year of the dynasty’s downfall, and Henry, along with his more illustrious cousins, was dismissed from his post.27 The remaining chancery clerks who were employed to solicit money for the wedding of Princess Eleanor in 1332 were all identifiably ‘northerners’, an elastic term used to describe men from Yorkshire (and further north), and from the northern part of the east midlands, namely, from Nottinghamshire and Lincolnshire.28 Thomas Gargrave, probably a West Riding man, can be observed as an attorney for recovering debts in the chancery in 1328 and 1329, though by May 1330 he was described as ‘clerk of the king’s chamber’.29 Another Yorkshireman, Thomas Brayton, already had a long chancery career behind him by 1332. He was certainly in royal service by 1319, and from 1330 he rose to considerable prominence. In 1332 he was a receiver of petitions in parliament, which means that he was one of the greater clerks of chancery, and from 1340 he was to rise of even greater heights, being, on several occasions, one of a group of clerks entrusted with temporary custody of the great seal.30 The career of another Yorkshireman, John Marton (or Morton), was neither so long nor so distinguished, but by 1333 he was already described as having rendered long service to Edward III and his father, but his greatest days were not to come until the 1340s, when he became a clerk of the first form (1341), and then chancellor of the palatinate of Durham (1345). He died in 1349.31 From the county of Lincoln came two messengers in this matter, Edmund Grimsby and Robert Kellsey. Edmund Grimsby was one of three king’s clerks with

25 CPR 1327–30, p. 107; CCR 1327–30, p. 241. 26 Wilkinson, Chancery, p. 80 and n. 27 The highlights of the careers in church and state of the brothers John and Robert Stratford and their

28

29 30

31

nephew Ralph can be found in the pages of T. F. Tout, Chapters in the Administrative History of Medieval England, 6 vols (Manchester, 1920–33), VI, pp. 407–8 for references; and HBC. More details about the crisis of 1340 are discussed in N. M. Fryde, ‘Edward III’s Removal of his Ministers and Judges, 1340–1’, BIHR 48 (1975), pp. 149–61. J. L. Grassi, ‘Royal Clerks from the Archdiocese of York in the Fourteenth Century’, Northern History 5 (1970), pp. 12–33. The title is misleading since a number of the so-called ‘northern’ clerks came from the diocese of Lincoln which lay within Canterbury province. CCR 1327–30, pp. 372, 539; Tout, Chapters IV, p. 236. He was probably a kinsman of John Gargrave, a chancery clerk of a previous generation, Grassi, ‘Royal Clerks’, p. 30. Brayton’s career is summarised in Wilkinson, Chancery, pp. 154–5, and his tenure of the great seal, with others, listed pp. 201–2. According to Wilkinson, Brayton had a chancery career of over forty years, 1319–61, and was a greater clerk for nearly thirty, 1332–61. Ibid., pp. 160, 89n. Grassi, ‘Royal Clerks’, pp. 28, 31, extends the careers of both Brayton and Marton even further, in Brayton’s case from 1317, and in Marton’s from 1309.

48

A. K. McHardy

that surname who were active in the reign of Edward III.32 All certainly came from the town of Grimsby on the Lincolnshire coast, though whether they were blood relatives is not clear. Edmund was also a friend of John Marton, for whom he would later act as executor. In 1332 we can observe that Edmund Grimsby had established a career in the chancery as an attorney in cases of debt recovery.33 In fact, his career in royal service had already begun before 1320, but, like several others in this group, his greatest days were to come in the 1340s, though he seems to have become one of the greater clerks of chancery in the later 1330s.34 Like Grimsby, Robert Kellsey was not the only man from his village who entered crown service; there was a William Kellsey, also a chancery clerk, and a close associate of Robert. Robert’s career can be dated from 1322, and by September 1327 he had been appointed to the important task of keeping the records of the farming of alien priories. He was later promoted a chancery clerk of the first form (in 1341) and remained in office until 1349. It is likely that, like Marton, he died of the plague.35 The king’s servants originating from Nottinghamshire, a firmly midland county, have been classed by historians as ‘northerners’, since the archdeaconry of Nottingham was part of the diocese of York, and it was from this area that Robert Kelm (or Kelham) and Thomas Sibthorpe originated. By the late 1320s Robert Kelm was a significant moneylender, and was also an attorney in chancery, and he seems to have favoured, both as business partners and clients, men from his native county. This localism did not prevent him from being useful to his employer, for on 20 September 1329 he was said to be ‘always attendant upon the king’s service’.36 Among Kelm’s business associates was Thomas Sibthorpe, another Nottinghamshire man. Arguably the most successful careerist of this group – he was most unusual in being appointed to judicial assize commissions37 – Sibthorpe would later found a college in the village from which he took his name (as well as a chantry at Beckingham, Lincs., where he was rector), and where he is still remembered. His career in crown service was a long one, stretching from 1317 to 1351, and it is clear that by the middle 1320s he was already a wealthy man. From October 1324 until early 1327 he was keeper of the hanaper of chancery, though it was not until the later 1330s, at the earliest, that he became a chancery clerk of the first form.38 Like most of his fellow fundraisers, Sibthorpe’s best-documented promotion lay some years in the future, but the group as a whole had backgrounds in common, especially experience as attorneys in the exchequer, and financial expertise, whether in money lending, or in the recovery of debts. Those whose livelihoods depended upon their advocacy skills and their ability to prise money from the reluctant were surely the ideal men to choose to argue the case for making donations towards Eleanor’s wedding costs. There was an additional qualification which at least some of these men 32 The others were Elias, also of the chancery, and John, of the wardrobe, ibid., p. 30. For Elias (or Ellis)

see Wilkinson, Chancery, esp. p. 161.

33 CCR 1327–30, pp. 422, 423. 34 Wilkinson, Chancery, pp. 158–9, 201, 206; Grassi, ‘Royal Clerks’, p. 30. 35 Wilkinson, Chancery, pp. 89n., 161, 206; CCR 1327–30, pp. 167–8; W. M.Ormrod, ‘The English

Government and the Black Death of 1348–49’, in England in the Fourteenth Century: Proceedings of the 1985 Harlaxton Symposium, ed. W. M. Ormrod (Woodbridge, 1986), pp. 175–88.

36 CPR 1327–30, pp. 388, 440; CCR 1327–30, pp. 402, 413, 503. 37 W. M. Ormrod, The Reign of Edward III: Crown & Political Society in England 1327–1377 (New

Haven, 1990), p. 72 and nn. I am grateful to Professor Ormrod for this reference.

38 Wilkinson, Chancery, pp. 162–4 and nn. gives an outline of his career, with references.

Paying for the Wedding

49

possessed: their links with religious houses. The files of TNA, PRO class SC 10, Parliamentary Proxies, give some indication of the links between king’s clerks, especially those in the chancery, and the higher clergy, both secular and regular. Chancery clerks formed the obvious pool from which parliamentary proctors might be drawn, for it was they who provided the secretariat and administration for meetings of parliament. The golden age of the chancery clerk as proctor was yet to come but at least some of Edward’s messengers conveying his need for money can be shown to have had links with parliamentary abbeys by this date. Thomas Brayton, for example, had strong links with the abbot of Selby, whom he represented on four occasions in quick succession.39 John Bridgewater represented the abbot of Glastonbury in 1331.40 While Thomas Capenhurst’s links were with Welsh bishops,41 Edmund Grimsby represented the abbot of Thornton in March 1332.42 John Marton and John Norton, were alike both alphabetically and geographically; John Marton’s links were to be with St John’s, Colchester (Essex), while John Norton’s were with St Benet Hulme, Norfolk, and on one occasion they acted together.43 These men were not the only chancery clerks to have acted as parliamentary proctors, but the examples just cited contribute to a picture of crown servants who had private links with other members of the political community, which made them attractive as ambassadors.44 Another aspect of their previous careers which made these men attractive messengers and persuaders was the variety of political affiliations which they had displayed. It was Bertie Wilkinson, who, in 1929, first drew attention to the strong link between politics and the clerks of the royal chancery, and historians have been rediscovering the truth of his assertion ever since.45 Thomas Sibthorpe, for example, had been closely attached to the Despensers, and was regarded with suspicion by Queen Isabella, for that reason. He survived the minority, however, and was ‘completely restored’ to favour after the coup of 1330. By contrast, Robert Kellsey had been employed by the minority regime on commissions against the Despensers, but he too was rehabilitated after the coup.46 The same was true of John Norton who on 28 May 1327 was given protection and safe-conduct until St John Baptist’s day [24 June], being sent to Cheshire and the Welsh marches ‘on business concerning Queen Isabella’.47 By contrast, John Watenhulle was surely a trusted servant of Edward III at a critical moment since he was employed on a commission to survey the treasure and jewels of Roger Mortimer, earl of March, immediately after the

39 At the parliaments of March, October and November 1330, and September 1331: SC 10/13/623; SC 40 41 42 43

44

45

46 47

10/14/662 and 677; SC 10/15/711. SC 10/15/708. Bangor and St Davids, SC 10/13/639; SC 10/14/654; SC 10/15/737. SC 10/15/739. Marton, for Colchester: SC 10/17/835 (Jan. 1333); SC 10/18/884 (1336). Norton for St Benet Hulme: SC 10/13/636 (March 1330); SC 10/14/675 (Nov. 1330). They acted together for Colchester in Jan. 1333 (SC 10/17/835). For further exploration of this theme, with references, see A. K. McHardy, ‘Some Patterns of Ecclesiastical Patronage in the Later Middle Ages’, in Studies in Clergy and Ministry in Medieval England, ed. D. M. Smith, Borthwick Studies in History 1 (York, 1991), pp. 20–37. ‘… the most important changes in the personnel of the chancery clerks seem to have occurred at the time of the greatest political strife’, Wilkinson, Chancery, p. 179. The most easily discernible changes came in 1340 and in 1341. Ibid., pp. 161–3; CCR 1327–30, p. 63. CPR 1327–30, p. 107.

50

A. K. McHardy

1330 coup.48 The speedy winning over of formerly hostile chancery clerks, and their employment in this task is impressive proof of the young king’s persuasive powers. The group as a whole, therefore, embodied a variety of valuable experiences and skills. There is some evidence that the messengers were matched with their home localities. Thus the Yorkshireman Thomas Brayton was sent to Yorkshire, Thomas Capenhurst was despatched to his home county of Cheshire,49 and Robert Kelm of Nottinghamshire, whose name was possibly Robert Touk of Kelm,50 was sent to Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire. Robert Briggewater, who has enough other references in his career to suggest that he really did come from Somerset, was sent to Somerset, Wiltshire and Dorset.51 The Nottinghamshire native Thomas Sibthorpe was sent to the adjacent county of Lincoln,52 while the Warwickshire Henry Stratford was despatched to Worcesterhire, Gloucestershire and Hereford. In a number of cases we can only suggest the likelihood that this journey was also a visit to home territory: Thomas Blaston (a place in Leicestershire) was sent to Leicestershire and Warwickshire; Thomas Gargrave, whose toponym suggests an origin close to the Yorkshire-Lancashire border, went to Lancashire (also Cumberland and Westmorland), and John Bruton (Bruton being a place in Someset) travelled to Devon and Cornwall. However, the preponderance of the clerks from Lincolnshire and Yorkshire within the chancery meant that this theory will not hold good in all cases. Thus Edmund Grimsby from Lincolnshire was sent to the four counties of Buckingham, Bedford, Cambridge and Huntingdon, and his compatriot Robert Kellesey was despatched to Hampshire, while the Yorkshireman John Marton was assigned Sussex, Middlesex and Surrey.53 These examples suggest that Edward III was trying to strengthen links between his government and the wider realm in this way, as in a number of others already identified by Dr Caroline Shenton.54 At a time when regional dialects were distinctive and local accents strong it surely made sense for the messengers to be able to communicate effectively with the recipients of the letters, since it is evident that persuasion, as well as delivery of the written request, was to be part of their task. As the letters indicated, each messenger-advocate was sent to the individual addressee, ‘that he [the addressee] may signify in writing by him what he shall cause to be done in answer to this request’.55 Receiving one of these messengers must have been like allowing a high-pressure salesman into your home. Yet despite Edward’s efforts, the financial results of this exercise were very disappointing. The king was later to allege that ninety-five recipients, including the archbishop of Canterbury, did not bother to reply at all.56 Many did reply, though, 48 49 50 51

52 53 54 55 56

Dated 26 Oct. 1330, CCR 1330–33, p. 65. Wilkinson, Chancery, p. 205. CCR 1327–30, pp. 589–90. The village of Kelham is near Newark, on the eastern edge of the county. Kelm had property worth well over 100 marks in Notts., 6 Feb. 1327, and was identified as a Notts. man on 4 Nov. 1329. His name was possibly Robert Touk of Kelm (Kelham), CCR 1327–30, pp. 90, 502, 589–90. For Briggewater’s private and public links with Somerset see ibid., p. 89, and CPR 1330–4, p. 418. Wilkinson, Chancery, p. 207. He was possibly the most distinguished of the group. Ibid., pp. 206–7. Edward’s attempt to make his court and administration geographically inclusive is one of the themes of Caroline Shenton’s doctoral dissertation, and is worked out in particular detail in chapter 4. CCR 1330–3, p. 587. Foedera, II, ii, pp. 851–2.

Paying for the Wedding

51

and a number of their written answers, as demanded by the writ, have survived.57 The forms of these letters, that is, their various sizes, their distinctive handwriting, variations in the information they contain, and even difference in the languages used, tells us that these were not penned by the visiting chancery clerks, or their assistants. But unfortunately one common feature of the responses is a lack of precise dating; many have no dating clause at all. Most of those which name a day do not give a year, though some do quote the writ of 26 June 1332. Only nine replies are dated with both day and the year 1332.58 Many give the name of the delivering clerk, though even this cannot be taken as definitive proof of writing in the year 1332. Such imprecision means that we cannot count exactly the number of replies to this writ, but at least half, and perhaps two thirds, date from this summer. The most notable feature of the replies was the recipients’ reluctance to pay; the response to Edward’s appeal for funds was very disappointing. There were as few as eight positive responses to his request, and most of those are ‘possibles’ and ‘probables’, rather than ‘certainties’. One of the few who did commit himself to contribute that summer was the prior of Worcester, yet he mentioned no precise sum.59 The abbot and convent of Quarr (Isle of Wight), who received their visit from Robert Kellesey on 26 July, offered 50s.60 One of the few who gave a precise and generous answer was Robert [of Garford] abbot of Abingdon, whose letter, dated 1 August [1332], promised £20 to be paid on 31 October, that is, after the forthcoming harvest. But by the time this date had arrived that abbot was long dead, for the abbacy was known to be vacant by 16 August.61 The bishop of Chichester also promised £20, without naming a date, though God knows (‘novit Deus’), he said how bad was his financial position.62 But the overall result of this exercise in collecting money is not in doubt: the higher clergy of England gave their king a resounding ‘No’. They were not ungracious about this, and refusals to pay were, nearly always, accompanied by extravagant expressions of loyalty, devotion and good wishes for the success and stability of his régime. The abbot of Barlings (Lincs.) was exceptionally personal in offering good wishes not only to the king, but also to the queen and the ‘young lord, Sir Edward your son’.63 Sometimes they offered their prayers for the king’s well-being, and on occasion the reply contained complimentary remarks about the character of the delivering clerk.64 The reasons which the bishops, deans, abbots and priors gave for their inability to help their king are interesting and instructive. The priors of dependent cells explained that they did not have the authority to make such payments,65 the Cluniac 57 C 270 (Ecclesiastical Miscellanea), files 7–12. The six files contain a total of 270 items about this

subject.

58 C 270/7/32 (Bridlington), 8/4 (bishop of Carlisle), 9/22 (Monks Kirby), 9/23 (Kirkham), 9/30

(Launde), 10/38 (Pentney), 11/28 (Shelford), 11/39 (Stafford), 12/25 (Walsingham).

59 The letter was received, from Henry Stratford, on 1 Aug. and an unspecified contribution was prom-

ised on Sunday 12 Sept., C 270/12/42.

60 C 270/10/44. 61 C 270/7/2; D. M. Smith and V. C. M. London, The Heads of Religious Houses: England and Wales, II:

1216–1377 (Cambridge, 2001), p. 17.

62 C 270/8/9; the letter is dated 3 August. 63 C 270/7/8. 64 The prior of Newton Longville (Bucks., Cluniac), Thomas de Conolio, had received his letter from

Edmund Grimsby ‘a man prudent and discreet’, C 270/10/21. Several others referred to the bringer of the writ as ‘your dear clerk’. 65 The prior of St Katherine, Lincoln, was ‘at the disposition’ of the master of the order of Sempringham,

52

A. K. McHardy

priors adding that they were bound to make annual payments to the mother house.66 The priors of alien cells could, and did, make the same point.67 Most poignant, apparently, was the reply from Birstall (Yorks.), where there had once been a priory dependent on Aumâle. ‘You wrote to the prior of Birstall asking for money’, came the answer, ‘but there is no priory nor prior, only I, the chaplain of Birstall, the proctor of the abbot and convent of Albermarle’.68 Two newly promoted respondents cited the principle of unripe time, one because he was new to his post, the other, a bishop, because he had not yet received all his temporalities.69 Many religious complained that the endowments of their house were insufficient to meet routine expenses, while others were impoverished by the demands of hospitality. Politics accounted for numerous refusals: a number of alien priors explained that their dire condition was due to seizure into the king’s hand during times of Anglo-French warfare, a problem which, as the prior of St Neot’s (Hunts.) reminded the king, went back to his grandfather’s reign.70 Taxation, whether by the pope, or the king, was very frequently mentioned, while numerous houses beyond the Humber blamed their poverty upon marauding Scots.71 The abbot of Cockersand, in Lancashire, explained that the depredations of the Scots upon his house and its granges had been so severe that he had been forced to disperse some of his fellow [Praemonstatensian] canons ‘to divers other places of our order’.72 Epidemics among livestock were apparently numerous. Crop failure, and the consequent need to buy in grain, was widespread, the abbot of Thorney, in Cambridgeshire, for example, reporting that last year’s grain had given out six months before, while the prior of Wenlock (Salop) reported that harvests had been bad for the previous two years.73 More locally felt calamities were common: English religious houses reeled before robberies,74 fires,75 floods,76 remarkably high tides77 or the cost of repairing

C 270/9/43, while the prior of Tynemouth (Northumb.) explained that his was merely a cell of St Albans, C 270/12/19.

66 Bromholm (or Broomholm), Norf., priory was a Cluniac house which made this excuse, C 270/7/34. 67 As did the prior of Loders, a Dorset Benedictine cell of Montebourg, C 270/9/45; David Knowles and

R. Neville Hadcock, Medieval Religious Houses: England and Wales, 2nd edn (London, 1971), p. 84.

68 C 270/7/21. Birstall was in ruins by the end of the century, but in 1378 the prior, Thomas de Séez,

69

70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77

obtained permission to remain in England, Donald Matthew, The Norman Monasteries and their English Possessions (Oxford, 1962), pp. 118, 151, 156. Alexander, prior of Wolston, Warwicks., proctor of the abbey of St Pierre sur Dives, C 270/1/12/40. The bishop was John Kirkby of Carlisle. The mandate to release his temporalities was dated 9 July, The Register of John Kirkby, Bishop of Carlisle 1332–1352, vol. I, ed. R.L. Storey, Canterbury and York Society 79 (1993), no. 126. His answer, written at Lingcroft, near York, was dated 23 Oct. 1332, and bears the latest date of any reply to the writ of June 1332, C 270/8/4. The following item in the file is from the prior of Carlisle explaining that, not only had Carlisle cathedral been repeatedly burnt by the Scots, but that the canons had been in constant dispute with Kirkby’s predecessor and had incurred costs in connection with his recent election, ibid., 5. C 270/11/20 (undated). Bridlington (C 270/7/32), Malton (C 270/10/3), and Rievaulx (C 270/11/6) all Yorks., for example, and Cartmel, in Cumbria, C 270/8/6. C 270/8/13. C 270/12/5 and 30. C 270/7/9. The house, Barnwell, Northants., had also suffered fires. Clifford, Herefs., C 270/8/12, and Wilmington, Sussex, C 270/12/36. Peterborough had suffered ‘incendia diversa’, C 270/10/40. Selby, Yorks., which lies in an area still particularly prone to flooding, C 270/11/26. The prior of Twynham (or Christchurch), Hants., spoke of land and marshes being devastated by the

Paying for the Wedding

53

sea defences to avert them,78 while the air rang with the sound of their church buildings collapsing.79 Acts of God were not the only problems; disputes between men were also expensive. The prior and convent of Norwich were fighting a case against the archbishop of Canterbury in the court of Rome;80 Nuttley Abbey (Bucks.) had a case proceeding in the court of Canterbury;81 and disputes in the lay courts were draining the resources of several monasteries.82 A number of houses excused payment on the grounds that they were already in debt to merchants. The result was that house after house reported the burden of debt under which it laboured. The most interesting excuses of all are those which named individuals, or precise circumstances, for a house’s inability to pay. The abbot of Tewkesbury (Gloucs.) explained that the royal request to help with Eleanor’s marriage expenses, ‘delivered by your dear clerk Henry Stratford’, had been preceded by a donation the house had made towards the marriage costs of Alice, the daughter of its patron William la Zouche, which meant that there was no spare money for the royal celebrations.83 The priors of Bath and Bruton (both Somerset) blamed the expenses of the archbishop of Canterbury’s metropolitical visitation,84 while St Augustine’s Canterbury was impoverished by the excessive costs caused by the archbishop’s continual presence;85 the loss of the register of Archbishop Simon Meopham (1328–33) makes it impossible to test the truth of these two assertions. The abbot of Burton on Trent (Staffs.) alleged not only that his abbey had incurred costs by appropriating two churches but also that Henry of Lancaster had caused them financial loss,86 while Repton priory (Derbys.) had, among other misfortunes, suffered a robbery at the hands of Welshmen pursuing the earl of Lancaster.87 This was presumably Thomas, earl of Lancaster, and the time the civil war of 1321–2. The prior of Spalding (Lincs.), in a letter which is now incomplete, cited a dispute with Thomas Wake lord of Liddell and Deeping about the marshes between Spalding and Deeping, as the cause of its poverty,88 while Lanthony priory (Gloucs.) blamed persecution by Hugh Despenser during the reign of Edward II for its inability to assist.89 Tutbury (Staffs.), by contrast, was riven with racial tension between its French prior and his English monks.90 Several circumstances might combine to reduce a house to poverty. The abbot of Milton, a Benedictine house in Dorset, in a masterpiece of elegant calligraphy, explained his plight as follows: the recent vacancy occasioned

78 79

80 81 82 83

84 85 86 87 88 89 90

action of the sea (C 270/8/10), as did the prior of Wymondham, Norf. (C 270/12/45). Norton, Ches., alleged the same, ‘the sea’ in this case being the estuary of the Mersey, C 270/10/26. As explained by the prior of Markby, Lincs., C 270/10/6. Muchelney, Som., and Netley, Hants., C 270/10/15, 16. A number of other places explained, less dramatically, that one or more of their buildings were ‘in decay’, or ‘ruinous’. St Albans was one such, C 270/11/13. C 270/10/28. St Frideswide’s, Oxford, also faced costs from a lawsuit at the Roman court, ibid., 36. Ibid., 30. Including Norwich, and St James’s priory, Northampton, C 270/10/23 (undated). C 270/12/1. Which William Zouche is not clear. There were several, according to the Complete Peerage, but the history of Tewkesbury Abbey, as recorded in VCH, Gloucestershire, does not mention a Zouche as patron. C 270/7/12 and 36. C 270/8/2. C 270/7/41. C 270/11/3. C 270/11/36. C 270/9/44. C 270/12/18.

54

A. K. McHardy

by the death of Robert the last abbot91 had caused the rents and profits of the monastic manors to be given over to the king’s officials, the abbey church had burnt down, and its lands had become unproductive (‘sterilitatem’) with the result that the house had fallen into debt to the tune of £300 and more. 92 Houses which contained nuns were in especially unfavourable circumstances simply because of the need to feed so many people on comparatively small incomes, and though nunneries were not asked for money,93 the mixed Gilbertine convents were. The prior of Sixhills (Lincs.) excused payment because the house was overburdened with cloistered women.94 At Watton, a Gilbertine house in east Yorkshire, the prior attributed his financial woes to a combination of the great multitude of nuns in the house, who needed food, clothing and other necessities, and the need to maintain Margaret the daughter of Hugh Despenser. He also explained that the greater part of the house’s lands lay towards the marches of Scotland and they had been miserably destroyed and reduced to nothing, so that they scarcely sustained the house’s needs.95 The truth of some of these explanations is beyond dispute. This was certainly a time of exceptionally heavy taxation, when the pope and the king combined to milk the English clergy, with the bulk of papal taxation going to the crown; a quadrennial tenth, which is mentioned in many replies, had been imposed by Pope John XXII in 1330, though at the king’s request.96 During the previous reign the country, from the Vale of York northwards, had indeed been subjected to raiding by the Scots, and some houses had also suffered from the need to provide for the English armies marching through the region.97 Over a longer period, the poverty of smaller religious houses had been a matter of concern to bishops from the later thirteenth century, as can be seen in the records of both crown and church, though from this distance and with our evidence it is often impossible to decide whether insufficient endowments or poor management was to blame in any particular house.98 On the other hand, the financial burden imposed by the crown upon the alien priories in times of Anglo-French warfare from 1295 can be recognised even from this distance and time,99 while lawsuits are costly in any period. Hospitality could indeed be expensive, and not just in the cost of food; Caroline Shenton’s study of the royal 91 92 93 94 95 96 97

98

99

Robert le Fauconer died before 21 May 1331; the election of his successor Richard Maury was confirmed by 8 June, Smith and London, Heads of Religious Houses, p. 52. C 270/10/16. C 270/10/1, a letter to the chancellor from Isabel abbess of Malling, was not written in answer to the request to help with Eleanor’s wedding, and was mistakenly assigned to this file. ‘… graunde meyne de dames rescluse’, C 270/11/34. The same excuse was made the following year by the prior of another Lincs. house of the same order, Bullington, C 270/7/39. C 270/12/26. W. E. Lunt, Financial Relations of the Papacy with England 1327–1541 (Cambridge, MA, 1962), pp. 75–88. I. Kershaw, Bolton Priory: The Economy of a Northern Monastery 1286–1325 (Oxford, 1973), esp. pp. 14–18, 25, 123–4, 168. For a lively account of this problem see R. M. T. Hill, The Labourer in the Vineyard: The Visitation of Archbishop Melton in the Archdeaconry of Richmond, Borthwick Papers no. 35 (York, 1968), pp. 6–9. Recent work suggests that the condition of some smaller religious houses may not have been as bad as has often been thought, and that their capacity to recover from periods of mismanagement was greater than is commonly believed, M. Heale, The Dependent Priories of Medieval English Monasteries, Studies in the History of Medieval Religion 22 (Woodbridge, 2004), chapter 6, ‘The Economy of English Cells’, pp. 229–76. Up to this point alien houses had been seized into crown hands from 1295 to 1303 and again from 1324 to 1327, A. K. McHardy, ‘The Effects of War on the Church: The Case of the Alien Priories in

Paying for the Wedding

55

court in this period paints a picture of exuberant young aristocrats trashing the best rooms of luckless abbeys, while their cooks were setting fire to the kitchens.100 Tracking down local epidemics among cattle is impossible, but though the most widespread plagues among livestock may have occurred some fifteen years before, the building up of herds to pre-famine levels would have taken some time.101 There is, however, no doubt about the truth of the claim that crops were poor and grain scarce. The cost of grain, and especially wheat, had been high from the financial year 1327/8 (Michaelmas to Michaelmas) onwards, and oats, rye and barley followed a similar pattern. In the year beginning Michaelmas 1331 prices of all these grains continued very high, and beans too were expensive. Thus the midsummer period of 1332 was the worst possible time to ask for voluntary contributions to luxurious festivities from landowners who had suffered a run of bad harvests.102 It is when we examine the alleged precise causes of poverty that we must be more cautious about believing the excuses. Some of the tales of woe were undoubtedly true. At Watton the nuns were certainly numerous, since Archbishop Melton blessed fifty-three nuns in 1326, and it is possible that this apparent influx was a result of the battle of Boroughbridge and the consequent impoverishment of some families. The house had been notoriously poor for years, yet despite this was it was burdened with receiving high-born ladies as, effectively, prisoners; before Margaret Despenser there had been Margery, daughter of Robert Bruce.103 Some genuine disasters were presented as more recent than they actually were. Bridlington priory (Yorks.) had suffered the burning of its granges at the hands of the Scots, but this had happened back in 1318. Further, the financial condition of the house had already been giving concern for several years.104 Sometimes the situation was as bad as alleged, but for more complex reasons. Thus at Tutbury, an alien priory dependent on St Pierre-sur-Dives, the conflict was not simply a racial one between a foreign prior and his English monks, but was part of a long-running battle in which the subprior and his allies tried to secure the right to elect their own head.105 The excuse made by Spalding, a rich house on the edge of the Lincolnshire marshes, is curious. The quarrel with Thomas Wake was an old one; it dated back to 1314 when the priory was alleged to have taken advantage of his minority to seize possession of his manor of Deeping.106 Just how misleading an excuse could be is shown in the case of Llanthony, which made a fine political excuse. The prior of Llanthony, an Augustinian house near

100 101 102

103 104 105 106

the Fourteenth Century’, in M. Jones and M. Vale, eds, England and her Neighbours 1066–1453: Essays in Honour of Pierre Chaplais (London, 1989), pp. 277–95. Shenton, ‘Court and Restoration’, pp. 125–7. For the impact of cattle disease on one house see Kershaw, Bolton Priory, pp. 16, and 79–112, passim. There was a run of bad harvests from 1328 with consequent high prices for grain, J. E. Thorold Rogers, A History of Agriculture and Prices in England, Vol. I: 1259–1400 (Oxford, 1866), pp. 202–3. C 270/12/26; VCH Yorkshire, III, p. 254. C 270/7/32; Kershaw, Bolton Priory, p. 15. VCH Yorkshire, III, pp. 201–2. C 270/12/18; A. Saltman in VCH Staffordshire, III, pp. 331–5; Smith and London, Heads of Religious Houses, pp. 203–4. Shortly afterwards the house was accused of selling provisions to the Scots, C 270/11/36; VCH, Lincolnshire, I, 121. For the priory’s wealth, see H. E. Hallam, The New Lands of Elloe: A Study of Early Reclamation in Lincolnshire, Leicester, Department of English Local History Occasional Papers 6 (1954).

56

A. K. McHardy

Gloucester, alleged poverty on the grounds that the house had been persecuted by Hugh Despenser in the reign of Edward II.107 Was this true? Gloucester was a stronghold of resistance to Edward II in the civil war of 1321–2, when it was held by Maurice Berkeley and provided, for a time, a place of refuge for Humphrey de Bohun earl of Hereford until it capitulated on 6 February 1322. In November of that year Hugh Despenser the younger was appointed keeper of the castle and town of Gloucester,108 so he would have had opportunity to harass the house. But the prior, William Pendelbury, was not telling the whole story. In 1324 he had resigned, and two other canons contested his office. The house was in such disarray that the king at the same time appointed an administrator, Adam de Helnak, and for two years the priory had no spiritual head at all. Some of the canons left, and wandered about the countryside as a criminal gang, robbing the houses of rich landowners. In 1326 the two rival candidates agreed to submit to the arbitration of the bishop of Winchester, John Stratford, who decided in favour of Pendelbury. One of the disappointed candidates remained in the house, though with prior’s privileges, while the other was allowed to live at St Thomas’s abbey, Dublin. His price was a pension of 40 marks a year and being allowed to take his books with him. The prior of Llanthony was right to say that the house was poor; indeed it had been poor for decades, and had suffered misfortune: in 1301 the priory church and its four bell-towers were burnt down, while political developments in Ireland reduced the value of its property there; but its immediate ascertainable difficulty was caused by mismanagement and by internal strife, strife which was only resolved by considerable further financial outlay.109 Religious houses were not divorced from local society and politics,110 but as far as we can see, blaming Edward II’s disgraced favourite was ingenious and showed considerable political awareness. Llanthony’s excuse can be shown to have been misleading, if not downright untrue, but it is hard to avoid the conclusion that refusal of the king’s request was an almost automatic response on the part of England’s senior churchmen. Anyone can feel poor when faced with the prospect of contributing to an unpopular or unaccustomed cause, and ‘insufficient resources’, the most widely employed of all excuses, is a feeling which can afflict even the most affluent. As generalised reasons for refusal it is hard to take seriously assertions that the canons residentiary of Lichfield and of Lincoln, for example, were impoverished men,111 or that St Albans abbey, however unfashionable the architecture of its abbey church, was financially embarrassed.112 So, for a variety of reasons, the churchmen, nearly all of them, refused to help. Yet over the course of the winter some relented, and may even have been visited again, since by mid-February 1333 a total of forty-one individuals or groups had agreed to pay. They included the dean and chapter of Lincoln who by 12 January had paid over £40 to Manentus Francisci, one of the king’s purveyors, in the presence of Thomas Sibthorpe, the chancery clerk who had delivered the king’s original 107 C 270/9/44. 108 N. Fryde, The Tyranny and Fall of Edward II 1321–1326 (Cambridge, 1979), pp. 54–5; CPR 1321–4,

p. 214.

109 The story is told by R. Graham in VCH Gloucestershire, III, pp. 88–9 and nn. 110 See, for example, N. Saul, Knights and Esquires: The Gloucestershire Gentry in the Fourteenth

Century (Oxford, 1981), pp. 32–3.

111 C 270/9/38 and 41. 112 C 270/11/13.

Paying for the Wedding

57

request.113 What more could Edward do to persuade the rest to follow suit? There were no legal sanctions which he could apply, so what he did was to try again. The second round of his fundraising effort has left less manuscript documentation, but its outlines are nevertheless clear. On 12 February 1333 another series of letters was written. To the ninety-five non-responders Edward expressed astonishment at their failure to reply to his first letter.114 To 152 of those who had replied during the previous summer but who had declined to help him, he took an unsympathetic line. Referring to the recipients’ refusal to pay at the first time of asking, the second letter described their excuses as ‘insufficient’, and effectively demanded money with menaces, saying: if you wish to have our goodwill you will pay up, and if you do not you will be sorry.115 Once again Edward used chancery clerks as messengers and emissaries. In many instances these were the same and sent on the same circuits. Though there were a few changes of personnel, the men newly employed in this task were of the same type as those used the previous year. Thus Thomas Cottingham, who was sent to Broomholm, and so probably replaced John Norton in Norfolk and Suffolk, was a long-time chancery clerk of Yorkshire origin.116 Henry Haydock, a Lancastrian, was appropriately despatched to his native county.117 He was first noted in the chancery in 1331, and later rose to become a clerk of the second (1351), and then first form (1353). His most interesting connections, however, were with the house of Lancaster. Haydock can first be observed as an attorney in a Lancashire manor in 1326, and did not relinquish his Lancastrian connections when he entered crown service, for he was later ‘borrowed’ back from the crown and became the first chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster; he occurred in this post in 1353, but perhaps held it throughout the duchy of Henry of Grosmont (1345–61). During the 1350s he several times acted as a justice in Lancashire, and after that duke’s death in 1361 he was ordered to seize the duchy’s lands in Lancashire, and certainly administered some of the late duke’s estate. It is surely not too fanciful to see him as essentially a Lancastrian servant who moved into the king’s administration following the coup of 1330, an event which owed much to the planning of Henry of Lancaster the elder.118 Michael Wath, who was sent to Worksop priory (Notts.), also conforms to the pattern of able chancery clerk who was marked out for future success. A Yorkshireman, from Wath on Dearne, he had already acted as proctor for the abbot of St Benet Hulme (Norf.) in 1331. 119 The most important and interesting of the clerks newly employed in the second cycle of journeys was Thomas Evesham. Appropriately enough for a man who hailed from Pershore (Worcs.), he was sent to Merevale and Alcester (both Warwicks.), but he also visited Peterborough (Northants.), suggesting that he 113 114 115 116

CPR 1330–4, p. 491. Foedera, II, ii, pp. 851–2. C 270/10/20. C 270/7/35; Wilkinson, Chancery, pp. 164, 168, 202. This was almost certainly Thomas Cottingham the elder, see Grassi, ‘Royal Clerks’, p. 29. 117 He delivered this request to Cockersand abbey, Lancs., C 270/8/14. 118 R. Somerville, History of the Duchy of Lancaster, Vol. I: 1265–1603 (London, 1953), pp. 44, 48, 467, 475; Wilkinson, Chancery, pp. 83 and n., 167, 206; Shenton, ‘Edward III and the Coup of 1330’, pp. 26–9. 119 C 270/12/15. He was soon to be appointed keeper of the rolls of chancery (1334–7), the most senior man after the chancellor, and briefly shared the keeping of the great seal (1339–40), Grassi, ‘Royal Clerks’, p. 33; Wilkinson, Chancery, pp. 157–8; Tout, Chapters, VI, p. 13.

58

A. K. McHardy

replaced Thomas Blaston who had been sent to these two counties in 1332.120 Evesham’s long career has been well charted and can be followed in the pages of Wilkinson’s study of Edward III’s chancery (it had started by 1313, and reached its apogee in 1340–1),121 but one aspect of it which has not been remarked before was his record as a parliamentary proctor. In the files covering the parliaments in 1330 and 1331 Evesham is observable as proctor in between 10% and 16% of all surviving commissions. In several cases he was commissioned as sole proxy. His client base, though diverse, was strongly regional, with the abbots of Gloucester, Cirencester (both Gloucs.), Malmesbury (Wilts.), Abdingdon (Berks.), and Evesham (Worcs.) constant commissioners,122 though at least once he represented the bishop of Exeter.123 Evesham’s close links with monasteries in a certain area emphasises the government’s appreciation of the value of the personal touch in this fundraising project. In this, as in other aspects of the venture, Edward III was following tradition.124 This second campaign of persuasion brought results which were much more favourable to Edward, and the proportion of those willing to pay was very much higher.125 But the contributors were not cheerful givers. Apart from the abbot of Louth Park (Lincs.), who smugly declared that ‘excuses are hateful’ (‘odiose sunt excusaciones’), before offering 10 marks,126 most of those who promised money continued to plead poverty as an excuse for giving so little. Thus the abbot of Notley, whose house was burdened with many other expenses and divers pleas in the court of Rome, humbly implored his majesty to receive the modest sum of 6 marks which was all that his poverty allowed him to give.127 The abbots of Revesby (Lincs.) (10 marks), and St Albans (£10), and the bishop of St Davids (20 marks), among others, wrote in similar vein.128 The abbot of Anglesey (Cambs.) sent a particularly pathetic and grovelling response, but promised 40s at the following Michaelmas.129 The collapse of rental income was another excuse.130 Evidently even those who did promise contributions feared further requests for payment, and a number – fifty-five – obtained letters patent promising that their gifts were not be a precedent, and had these acknowledgments enrolled.131 A number still refused to pay anything. For example, the prior of Bullington (Lincs., Gilbertine), who the 120 121 122 123 124 125

126 127 128

129 130 131

C 270/10/8 and 39, SC 1/37/177; CCR 1330–3, p. 589. Tout, Chapters, III, pp. 124, 157–8 nn., VI, p. 13; Wilkinson, Chancery, esp. pp. 151–3. SC 10 files 13–15. SC 10/15/723. Along with two others; he was described as a canon of Exeter cathedral though never seems to have held a prebend. ‘In 1300 … the king skilfully persuaded the magnates, individually rather than collectively, to agree to the grant of a tax’, Prestwich, Edward I, p. 457. There are two replies from 50 houses, which means that in only 17% of the houses do we have two answers. In C 270 the 1333 answer was often filed first since they date from the spring, while those from 1332 date from mid to late summer. The confusion arose because the year of reply is so rarely given. C 270/9/46. C 270/10/31; also printed Foedera, II, ii, p. 858. C 270/11/6 (French), 12 and 15. Thame and Thorney also made small grants but complained at length of their poverty. The abbot of Thorney also mentioned the poor financial state of the house’s cell at Deeping, Lincs., C 270/ 12/2 and 6. C 270/7/4. SC 1/37/177, Alcester, Warwicks., SC 1/38/30, Drax, Yorks. CPR 1330–4, pp. 422–3, 474. Such was suspicion of the king that recognitions of ‘no precedent’, were being issued and enrolled at the end of 1336; CPR 1334–8, pp. 330 (Peterborough, 16 Nov.), 340 (Croyland, 13 Dec.).

Paying for the Wedding

59

previous year had excused himself on the ground that he was newly appointed, now used the great number of nuns burdening the house as his reason for refusal. The abbot of Alcester (Warwicks), whose church, crops and cattle were all in a state of collapse, was another who still refused to contribute.132 In drawing conclusions from this episode we must remember that at its beginning in June 1332, England had, only some twenty months before, undergone a change of régime. Edward III himself was an unproven ruler, a high-spirited teenager whose hobbies of jousting, masquerading, and listening to drumming were disapproved of by churchmen,133 and who was already making heavy financial and military demands upon his subjects. He had to tread carefully. In the fundraising process which we have been examining both sides could claim victory. On the one hand the churchmen exercised their well-honed skills of making excuses to deny royal requests, both individually, as can be seen in the files of answers to requests for corrodies, for example,134 and collectively in the refusal of the Canterbury convocation on a number of occasions to make tax grants.135 The higher clergy of England were not browbeaten by the original demand, but exercised their right to say ‘No’; and in the end many of the poorer religious houses escaped paying altogether, for more than one third of those originally approached made no grant. On the other hand, nearly two-thirds of those approached did finally pay something towards the costs of Eleanor’s wedding; the figures are 172 out of 295, that is, 63.7%. So Edward got his money – a total of £1,320 6s 8d, which was not as much as the wedding had cost him, if we include the marriage portion, but still a substantial sum.136 Of course, this amount was not pure profit, for the costs of sending out the fund-raisers on two occasions must be set against the total received, and thanks to the survival of one messenger’s accounts we can see his what costs were.137 Edmund Grimsby was despatched twice to the eastern counties. The first time his circuit was the counties of Cambridge, Huntingdon, Bedford and Buckingham. This was in 1332 when he left London on 6 August and returned on 4 September. For expenses over the twenty-nine days he was granted 4 shillings a day, on the council’s instructions (per ordinacionem consilii), a total of 116 shillings (or £5 16s). In the following year his journey was to Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire, Essex and Hertfordshire, and for this twenty-seven day journey he was given expenses at the same rate, totalling 188 shillings. By this time the chancery was at York, and it was from there that he started and to York that he returned. The two journeys cost £15 4s. Payment at the rate of 4 shillings a day was considerably more than the rate accorded to the usual king’s messengers,138 and this generosity surely reflects the high status of the group and the results which their efforts were expected to produce. Indeed, Grimsby’s journeys were ‘to seek and obtain’ subsidies for the costly wedding. Failure was not envisaged. There is no reason to believe that Edmund Grimsby’s expenses were at a different 132 C 270/7/40 and 41; SC 1/37/177. 133 Shenton, ‘Restoration of Royal Authority’, chapter 9, ‘Criticism of the King and Anti-Clericalism at

Court’, pp. 212–46.

134 C 270, files 1–6. 135 In 1297 and 1300, Prestwich, Edward I, pp. 414, 523; D. B. Weske, Convocation of the Clergy

(London, 1937), p. 246.

136 The figure has been arrived at by adding all the sums listed in Foedera, II, ii, pp. 851, 859. 137 E 101/310/33. I am most grateful to Mark Ormrod for drawing this document to my attention. 138 It was officially 3d a day, but may have been creeping upwards, M. C. Hill, The King’s Messengers

1199–1377 (London, 1961), p. 106.

60

A. K. McHardy

rate from those of his colleagues engaged in this task. Thomas Brayton, whose expenses had still not been paid by the start of 1336, was to be partly reimbursed by the £5 which Guisborough priory (Yorks.) had promised,139 which argues a similarly generous rate. Repayment of expenses was not the only cause for which the money promised could be diverted. Indeed, it seems likely that very little of this aid was really spent on Princess Eleanor, but was actually used to fund the Scottish war, for on 6 July 1333 the king wrote from Tweedmouth (near Berwick) to over 100 of the contributors ordering them to send their promised sums to York by 9 September. Perhaps as a sop to clerical sensibilities, the money was to be received by the abbot of St Mary’s, York.140 Though the amount raised may not have been as great as he had hoped, nor given as quickly, Edward III could be well-pleased with this operation. While showing magnanimity to the genuinely impoverished, he was nonetheless able to enforce his will upon churchmen who were, by definition, much older then he, and mostly well-established in their posts. He and his clerks did this by carefully organised fundraising campaigns, and by his persistence, with, in the end, more than a hint of menace. But Edward III must not be given all the credit for this success. Between his first request in June 1332 and his second in February 1333 the country’s situation had been transformed, for it is clear that in 1332 there was a wonderful harvest, and during the twelve months starting at Michaelmas that year the price of grain fell dramatically all over the country. ‘The remarkable feature of the year is the aspect of uniform agricultural prosperity.’141 No longer could the religious claim that they had insufficient grain to feed the community and had to buy in supplies. Now there was enough for everyone to eat, and plenty of seed corn for the following harvest too. Many landowners clearly had surpluses, and while it is true that prices were low, at least many more houses had something to sell. Edward III was thus the beneficiary of what in the twenty-first century would be called, ‘a dramatic upturn in the economy’. He would have said that God was on his side.142

139 140 141 142

6 Feb. 1336, CPR 1334–8, p. 223. Foedera, II, ii, p. 864. Thorold Rogers, Agriculture and Prices, p. 204. His timing was especially fortunate since in July 1333, even before the expiry of the quadrennial tenth, Pope John XXII ordered payment of a mandatory crusading tenth, Lunt, Financial Relations, pp. 88–94.

The Politics of Privilege

THE POLITICS OF PRIVILEGE: THOMAS HATFIELD AND THE PALATINATE OF DURHAM, 1345–811 Christian D. Liddy On 22 September 1375 Pope Gregory XI granted the newly appointed archbishop of York, Alexander Neville, special permission to conduct a visitation of the city and diocese of Durham and to impose the ‘usual procurations’ (the hospitality traditionally received by a bishop in the course of his visitation from the churches visited), without first completing the visitation of his own city and diocese of York, as was prescribed by canon law.2 The tensions arising from Durham’s subordinate position as a suffragan see of the diocese of York had frequently crystallized on the issue of the right of visitation, which York claimed to enjoy by virtue of its metropolitan status and from which Durham sought to maintain its autonomy. Thus it was that in 1286 an agreement had been reached according to which the archbishop of York was allowed to conduct a visitation only during a vacancy of the diocese of Durham.3 Yet if this accord provided the basis of a reasonable working relationship between the two episcopal authorities, the more fundamental issue of the precise constitutional relationship between Durham and York remained a continuing and unresolved source of conflict, which was exacerbated by the elevation of Thomas Hatfield to the see of Durham in 1345. Three years after his arrival in Durham, Hatfield successfully petitioned for a papal bull which, in releasing the bishop and his officials from the censure of excommunication, suspension or interdiction by the archbishop of York, effectively removed the bishop of Durham from archiepiscopal control.4 It is not, then, surprising that, upon his appointment to the archdiocese of York in 1374, Alexander Neville should seek to reassert York’s superior status as the metropolitan see by gaining papal approval to annul the earlier papal indult, the very existence of which, Neville alleged, Hatfield had used to do ‘many things worthy of correction’,5 and to undertake the first metropolitan visitation of the diocese of Durham during the pontificate of an incumbent bishop since 1281.6 Hatfield’s response, upon hearing news of Neville’s proposed visitation, was to petition the king for assistance, probably during the Good Parliament of 1376. On 9 July 1376, the day before the end of the parliamentary assembly meeting at Westminster, the king wrote in forceful terms to the archbishop of York:

1 2 3 4 5 6

I would like to thank Tony Pollard and Matthew Holford for reading and commenting on an earlier version of this essay. CPL, IV, p. 212. R. B. Dobson, Durham Cathedral Priory, 1400–1450 (Cambridge, 1973), p. 218. Calendar of Papal Registers: Petitions, I, pp. 137–8. CPL, IV, p. 212. R. G. Davies, ‘Alexander Neville, Archbishop of York, 1374–1388’, Yorkshire Archaeological Journal 47 (1975), p. 95.

62

Christian D. Liddy Strict order not to attempt or procure to be attempted anything which may tend to impair the liberties and privileges of the bishopric of Durham or to the disturbance of the people there, or to comfort or encourage the king’s enemies of the marches of Scotland bordering upon that bishopric and diocese, and order to revoke any such attempt made, knowing … that if he shall act otherwise, which the king will not suffer to be done by him or by any other by any authority whatsoever, the king will chastise and punish him … as the cause of such disturbance and encouragement, as a despiser of the king’s commands and breaker of his peace; as it has come to the king’s ears that … the archbishop is purposing to visit the person of Thomas bishop of Durham, the clergy and people of that diocese, to extort from them procurations and divers sums of money, and to do there other unwonted and unheard of things otherwise than used to be done time out of mind, although the bishop is earl palatine having by the king’s authority temporal jurisdiction over all and singular his subjects of the liberty of Durham, and although he and his predecessors from that time have ever by their ministers exercised such jurisdiction as persons honoured with royal privileges, and if this were done it would manifestly tend not only to impair the said privileges and liberties granted by former kings to St. Cuthbert and the church of Durham, but to the disturbance of the said people and the encouragement of the said enemies making insurrections and invasions and committing other crimes and annoyances against the king and his people in those parts, and other more grievous hurt might arise thereby; and the king will not endure such things, being bound to cherish peace and quietness everywhere in his realm.7

An identical letter was sent again to the archbishop on 17 July 1376,8 and four days later, on 21 July 1376, Edward wrote once more to Alexander Neville, repeating the earlier mandates instructing the archbishop to abandon his intended visitation of the diocese of Durham: So we order you again [‘derechief ’] and charge you as strictly as we possibly can to be mindful that the abovesaid things and others expressed in our abovesaid letters are not done or attempted by you or by another in your name against the effect and purpose of the same in any way, on pain of chastisement and punishment.9 This increasingly strained communication between Edward III and Alexander Neville reveals much about the crown’s perception of the importance of the palatinate of Durham within the wider realm in the last quarter of the fourteenth century. Conflating the bishop’s status as spiritual head of the Durham diocese with his temporal power as the ruler of the palatinate of Durham, Edward III viewed the protection of the liberty as integral to his obligation to oversee the defence of the realm. The message was simple: a strong, peaceful and united palatinate, undisturbed by the unsolicited attention of the archbishop or the depredations of the Scots, was essential to the vigorous defence of the northern border. That the crown should declare so emphatically its support for the privileges of the 7 8 9

CCR, 1374–7, pp. 427–8. Historiae Dunelmensis Scriptores Tres, ed. J. Raine, Surtees Society 9 (1839), pp. cxliii–cxliv. TNA [PRO], DURH 3/31, m. 8r. All manuscript references in this article are to The National Archives unless otherwise specified.

The Politics of Privilege

63

palatinate in 1376 is significant given the traditional paradigm within which relations between Durham and the royal government in the late Middle Ages have been examined. In 1900 G. T. Lapsley published his study of the medieval palatinate with the rather forbidding title of The County Palatine of Durham: A Study in Constitutional History.10 This was constitutional history, of course, in the Stubbsian sense: Lapsley was interested in the longue durée rather than the ebb and flow of day-to-day politics, tracing the development of the palatinate from its origin before the Norman Conquest until its final demise in the nineteenth century; Lapsley’s focus was also the institutions of the palatinate rather than the individuals whose interaction with the organs of palatine government formed the very stuff of local politics. And underpinning Lapsley’s book was a particular view of the palatinate as ‘a microcosm of the kingdom’, whose constitutional structure reproduced ‘all the essential characteristics of the central government’, including a chancery which issued writs in the bishop’s name, an exchequer which collected the bishop’s revenue, and a network of local courts which upheld the bishop’s peace.11 Such local autonomy could not last forever, however, particularly to a Whig historian like Lapsley who was also anxious to explain how the palatinate was gradually absorbed by the English state. Thus, according to Lapsley, if the period up to the pontificate of Antony Bek (1283–1311) was one of ‘growth’ and ‘maturity of the Bishop’s regality’, during the fourteenth century, the crown’s attitude towards the palatinate was one of ‘perplexed toleration’. In the fifteenth century, once the crown was no longer distracted by the Wars of the Roses, the Tudors were able to introduce a ‘vigorous policy’ of centralization, and ‘summarily dealt with’ the palatinate once and for all.12 Aspects of Lapsley’s thesis have received criticism. In a 1966 article entitled ‘The Origin and Limitations of the Liberty of Durham’, Jean Scammell argued against the idea that Durham was ever, in administrative terms, a microcosm of England. The palatinate, rather like the recently rejected idea of a North-East regional assembly, was a white elephant, whose inhabitants had nothing to gain from the liberty’s immunity from royal taxation (since the purchase of exemption from taxation was ‘more expensive than the tax’) and who preferred the benefits of central justice to the corruption and inadequacies of the local court system.13 Nonetheless, in broad terms, Scammell and Lapsley were making the same point about the weakness of Durham’s palatine status, but from different perspectives. In Lapsley’s case, the palatinate’s right of self-government was challenged incrementally by the crown, which never really thought much of the palatinate’s privileges in the first place; in the case of Scammell, the autonomy of the palatinate was challenged increasingly from within, by the bishop’s own subjects. The only sustained challenge to this model of palatine ‘development’ and ‘degeneration’ has come from the recent work of Tim Thornton.14 In a series of publications exploring relations between the crown and the peripheral territories of the English kingdom, Thornton has argued trenchantly against the prevailing assumption that late medieval and early modern England witnessed the inexorable 10 11 12 13

G. T. Lapsley, The County Palatine of Durham: A Study in Constitutional History (London, 1900). Ibid., pp. 2, 1. Ibid., pp. 75–6, 2. J. Scammell, ‘The Origin and Limitations of the Liberty of Durham’, EHR 81 (1966), pp. 449–73 (470–1). 14 The words are those of Lapsley, County Palatine, p. 208.

64

Christian D. Liddy

expansion of the centre at the expense of the locality.15 Instead, in the cases of the palatinates of Chester and Durham, he has demonstrated persuasively the strength of local particularist sentiment and the respect for provincial privilege on the part of the crown, which looked upon the existence of ‘strong provincial jurisdictions’ as ‘an obvious solution to the challenges of the fifteenth and seventeenth centuries’.16 Important as this work is, its chronological coverage does little, in a sense, to dispel an older belief that the crown’s attitude towards Durham in the fourteenth century was one of ‘perplexed toleration’, or, in the words of another distinguished historian of the late medieval palatinate, ‘royal sufferance’.17 This terminology assumes a level of antipathy between Durham and the crown, which was hostile in principle to the degree of autonomy enjoyed by the palatinate, but unable in practice to challenge palatine privilege. What were the crown’s expectations of the palatinate of Durham in the fourteenth century? The fourteenth century occupies a particularly important, yet hitherto largely overlooked, place in the history of relations between liberties and the English crown, falling as it does between Edward I’s quo warranto proceedings and the similar inquiries into franchises of the early Tudors.18 This essay explores the crown’s relationship with the palatinate during the episcopate of Bishop Thomas Hatfield (1345–81), with a particular focus on the period 1369–81. Given the enormity of the crown’s financial needs in the years after 1369, it is precisely this period in which one would expect the crown to ask serious questions about the nature and extent of palatine autonomy and to intervene regularly in the governance of the liberty. Why then did the crown articulate a defence of the palatinate of Durham in 1376? One line of reasoning might be that the crown’s weakness in the 1370s as a result of war and political crisis led to a lack of central direction which in this case saw it capitulate to the forces of provincial particularism. Such an argument would, of course, simply reiterate the traditional view of relations between greater franchises and the crown, according to which the former were strong when the latter was weak, and vice-versa.19 It would also support another familiar paradigm of English state-building, namely the transition from ‘law state’ to ‘war state’ in late medieval England, in which the centralizing tendency of the English state evident in the formulation of Edward I’s legal theory that all liberties were held of the king and that the holders of liberties were therefore the king’s ministers,20 was seriously compromised by the need to finance the war with France.21 Whatever the corrosive influence of the royal court in the last years of Edward 15 Most notably, T. Thornton, Cheshire and the Tudor State 1480–1560 (London, 2000), especially pp.

1–15.

16 T. Thornton, ‘Fifteenth-Century Durham and the Problem of Provincial Liberties in England and the

Wider Territories of the English Crown’, TRHS 6th ser. 11 (2001), pp. 83–100, especially p. 100.

17 Lapsley, County Palatine, p. 76; C. M. Fraser, ‘Prerogative and the Bishops of Durham, 1267–1376’,

EHR 74 (1959), p. 474.

18 The one notable exception to this historiographical hiatus is H. M. Cam, ‘The Decline and Fall of

English Feudalism’, in H. M. Cam, Liberties and Communities in Medieval England (London, 1963), pp. 205–22. 19 For a similar view of the dynamics of the relationship between Henry VI’s government and the palatinate of Chester in the early 1450s, see D. J. Clayton, The Administration of the County Palatine of Chester, 1442–85 (Manchester, 1990), pp. 50–1. 20 J. W. Alexander, ‘The English Palatinates and Edward I’, JBS 22 (1983), pp. 1–22. 21 For the switch from ‘law state’ to ‘war state’, see R. W. Kaeuper, War, Justice, and Public Order: England and France in the Later Middle Ages (Oxford, 1988).

The Politics of Privilege

65

III’s reign and the political consequences of Richard II’s minority, the evidence presented here indicates that the crown’s attitude towards the palatinate of Durham between 1369 and 1381 was borne not of political expediency, but of a continually evolving and far from straightforward notion of reciprocity. The crown’s changing attitude towards liberties in the thirteenth century had been articulated most forcefully in royal charters which placed increasing emphasis on the ‘administrative responsibilities’ of holders of liberties, in whose ‘private hands’ were now ‘public duties’.22 Unlike the palatinate of Lancaster, created in 1351 and later revived in 1377, Durham, like Chester, was a palatinate ‘by prescription’ rather than ‘by specific royal grant’.23 The foundations of the liberty of Durham were established long before the Conquest as one of the successor states to the kingdom of Northumbria.24 Yet if the palatinate was not founded on the basis of a royal charter, the conflict with Bishop Antony Bek stemming from Edward I’s quo warranto proceedings of 1293 did establish the principle that the liberty was an integral part of the crown, whose bishop was a royal minister, enjoying powers of selfgovernment delegated by the king.25 Military necessity rather than legal theory made explicit the purpose of devolution in the north-east. In the late thirteenth century, when war broke out between England and Scotland, the crown viewed the palatinate as essential to meet the needs of border defence. A similar rationale seems to have applied to the palatinate of Chester. Thus, when Cheshire’s strategic importance declined after Edward I’s reign and the conclusion of the Welsh war, the retention of Cheshire’s palatine privileges became subject to debate. In 1311, for instance, the crown ordered an investigation into Cheshire’s fiscal history, uncertain of its tax status and unclear as to whether the county had paid parliamentary taxation in the past.26 In the case of Durham the continuing threat from Scotland after 1296 meant that the military justification for the existence of the palatinate remained compelling. In the reign of Edward II, when the north of England faced repeated incursions from the Scots, the crown spelt out more clearly its view of the palatinate’s privileges, namely that they were predicated upon the bishop’s personal role as a defender of the northern border against the Scots.27 On several occasions the bishop was reminded of his special duty to act as a ‘brazen wall’ (‘aeneus murus’) or a ‘wall of stone’ (‘murus lapideus’) against the Scots.28 The crown’s functionalist approach to the palatinate of Durham was, however, problematic from the outset. The royal perception of the military significance of the liberty was based largely upon the bishop’s possession of the shires of Norham and Island north of the river Tyne, which together formed a triangle of land comprising about ninety square miles immediately adjacent to the Scottish border, and specifically upon the bishop’s ownership of the castle of Norham, the main English

22 23 24 25

N. Denholm-Young, Seignorial Administration in England (London, 1937), p. 88. Alexander, ‘English Palatinates’, pp. 13, 11. G. V. Scammell, Hugh du Puiset, Bishop of Durham (Cambridge, 1956), p. 189. C. M. Fraser, ‘Edward I of England and the Regalian Franchise of Durham’, Speculum 31 (1956), pp. 329–42. For the reciprocal notion of privilege and obligation, see Cam, ‘Decline and Fall of English Feudalism’, p. 207. 26 P. H. W. Booth, The Financial Administration of the Lordship and County of Chester, 1272–1377 (Manchester, 1981), p. 118, drawing on Calendar of Chancery Warrants, 1244–1326, p. 339. 27 Lapsley, County Palatine, pp. 305–6. 28 Scriptores Tres, p. 98; Foedera, 4 vols in 7 (London, 1816–69), II, i, p. 506.

66

Christian D. Liddy

fortification on the south bank of the river Tweed.29 Although Norhamshire and Islandshire were institutionally part of the liberty of Durham, administered from Norham castle on behalf of the bishop of Durham, the gentry of this northern outpost of the palatinate had few personal, familial or territorial connections with their contemporaries residing in the core territory of the palatinate between Tyne and Tees known most commonly in the later Middle Ages as ‘the bishopric of Durham’.30 And if the king viewed the relationship between the palatinate and the crown essentially in personal terms, revolving around the bishop’s personal service to the king as the defender of the Anglo-Scottish border, relations were complicated by the existence of a quasi-autonomous political body within the palatinate known as ‘the community of the bishopric of Durham’. The precise constitutional status of the ‘community’ is uncertain. Lapsley, so determined to see Durham as a microcosm of the kingdom, believed that the ‘community’ was a formal palatine representative assembly, the equivalent of the Westminster parliament. Yet this is highly unlikely, and when the bishop’s lordship famously came under attack in 1433 from the bishop’s own subjects, Bishop Langley was accused of usurping all the prerogatives of the king ‘preterquam quod idem episcopus non tenet parliamentum suum ibidem’.31 Certainly, Durham did possess a county court, but the evidence of its activities is so slim as to suggest that, in contrast to Cheshire, it did not form the basis of a local ‘parliament’ whose members possessed the right to legislate and assent to taxation within the liberty.32 Rather, the Durham ‘community’ comprised the freeholders of the bishopric between Tyne and Tees who gathered in a more ad hoc fashion on particular occasions, notably to deal with external threats to the liberty. In the first quarter of the fourteenth century the community of Durham, like many local communities in the north of England, purchased truces with the Scots and with other rebels to safeguard the bishopric from raiding, and it proved quite capable of organizing these payments from the land between Tyne and Tees even when the bishop-elect, Louis de Beaumont, was abducted by Gilbert de Middleton in September 1317.33 There was, then, an assembly representing the Durham gentry which could make decisions and organize itself independently of the bishop. This community had an avowedly localist agenda, which in the early fourteenth century saw it resist the crown’s growing expectation that the men of the bishopric as well as the bishop would provide military service in the war with Scotland. In 1299, when Bishop Antony Bek, on the instruction of Edward I, ordered the men of 29 A. J. Pollard, North-Eastern England during the Wars of the Roses: Lay Society, War and Politics,

1450–1500 (Oxford, 1990), p. 150.

30 I explore the relationship between the communities of Durham and North Durham in my forthcoming

monograph, The Land of the Prince Bishops: The Palatinate of Durham, 1345–1437. It should be noted that the bishopric was the bishop’s secular franchise and was separate from the diocese of Durham. 31 R. L. Storey, Thomas Langley and the Bishopric of Durham, 1406–1437 (London, 1961), p. 260. 32 For the suggestion that the county court formed the Durham assembly, see K. Emsley and C. M. Fraser, The Courts of the County Palatine of Durham from Earliest Times to 1971 (Durham, 1984), p. 12. There is only one extant Durham county court roll: DCM, Misc.Ch. 5722. For the Cheshire ‘parliament’, see Booth, Lordship and County of Chester, p. 8, and Thornton, Cheshire and the Tudor State, pp. 67–9. 33 The best study of these tribute payments is J. Scammell, ‘Robert I and the North of England’, EHR 73 (1958), pp. 385–403, although (pp. 398–401) she downplays the role of communal organization in favour of individual initiative on the part of a few prominent Durham magnates. In addition to buying off Robert Bruce in the period 1317–18, the community of Durham had also paid a total of 500 marks to Gilbert de Middleton by December 1317: DCM, Misc.Ch. 4049.

the bishopric to accompany him with horses and arms to go into Scotland, the soldiers deserted and returned home, where they were promptly imprisoned at Durham castle. It was then that the men of the bishopric made their celebrated complaint against the bishop, ‘claiming to be the Haliwerfolk and to hold their lands for the defence of the body of St Cuthbert’, who ‘ought not to go beyond the boundaries of the bishopric, namely beyond Tyne and Tees, for king or bishop’.34 In early 1303 ‘the good men of the franchise of Durham between Tyne and Tees’ reiterated their argument that they had no obligation to provide military service beyond the rivers Tees and Tyne, that they could not be forced to serve against their will outside the bishopric, and that such service without the liberty had to be voluntary and properly remunerated. The bishop grudgingly agreed to his subjects’ demands, stating that he would pay troops from the liberty serving in Scotland and that service would only be required when the bishopric of Durham was also threatened.35 This dispute over the nature of the military service expected from the liberty of Durham has been variously interpreted. Constance Fraser saw it as part of a much larger struggle between the bishop and his subjects over the oppressive exercise of the bishop’s lordship within the liberty.36 The conflict has also been viewed as further evidence of the contemporary debate about the obligation of local communities to render unpaid military service beyond the boundaries of a particular county, an issue which continued to be contested in parliament into the 1340s.37 In fact, the quarrel had nothing to do with pay, but had much more to do with the principle of local defence, a principle upheld by continuing attachment to the concept of the ‘Haliwerfolk’, which from its pre-Conquest origin implied a separate territorial as well as collective group identity for the people between Tyne and Tees.38 Although the concession wrung from the bishop in early 1303 was omitted from the ‘charter of liberties’ subsequently granted by the bishop to ‘the community of the franchise of Durham’,39 and although the crown continued to ask the bishop of Durham to array troops in the bishopric thereafter for service in Scotland, this obligation remained a source of friction within Durham. In 1333, for example, the crown sent a writ to Bishop Beaumont assuring him that the military forces which he had sent on several occasions ‘at our request outside his liberty of the bishopric of Durham’ to help in the Scottish war would not be drawn into a precedent to the damage of the liberty.40 Within the bishopric there was also a strong communal tradition of military service. This was evident in early 1343 when the bishop, upon learning that the Scots were intending to invade the bishopric, commissioned twenty-two members of the Durham gentry under the terms of the statute of Winchester, to array all men aged between fifteen and sixty (‘potentes et defensabiles’) between Tyne and Tees for its protection.41 Rather than appoint commissioners of array to assemble soldiers

34 Scriptores Tres, p. 76. Author’s translation. The ‘Haliwerfolk’ were the people of the saint, that is, St

35 36 37 38 39 40 41

Cuthbert. For the genesis of the term and its application either side of the Norman Conquest, see W. M. Aird, St Cuthbert and the Normans: The Church of Durham, 1071–1153 (Woodbridge, 1998), pp. 5–8, 231. RPD, III, pp. 45–6. C. M. Fraser, A History of Antony Bek, Bishop of Durham, 1283–1311 (Oxford, 1957), p. 178. M. Powicke, Military Obligation in Medieval England (Oxford, 1962), pp. 187, 231. Aird, St Cuthbert and the Normans, pp. 5–8. A point noted in Fraser, Antony Bek, p. 187. RPD, IV, p. 173. Ibid., IV, pp. 269–71.

68

Christian D. Liddy

within the bishopric, the crown became increasingly aware of the advisability of instructing the bishop himself to oversee the process through local mechanisms.42 The advent of war with France in the 1330s placed further strains upon the relationship between the palatinate and the crown. The appointment of Thomas Hatfield as bishop of Durham in 1345 was certainly a sensible one. Hatfield was a curialist bishop, who owed his elevation to the see of Durham almost entirely to royal favour, having served as receiver of the king’s chamber and as keeper of the privy seal immediately prior to his promotion.43 Perhaps most suggestively, Thomas Hatfield was a military-minded bishop, memorably described by J. R. L. Highfield as the ‘Odo of Bayeux of the period’,44 who could count in his military experience attendance at the battle of Crécy in 1346 and at Calais with Edward III in the same year. There can be little doubt that Edward III viewed Hatfield primarily as a military leader in the north. Hatfield served as a warden of the march in 1356 and 1359, residing with his household in his castle at Norham on the river Tweed to defend the border against the Scots.45 With the renewal of the Hundred Years War in 1369, despite the existence of a nominal truce between England and Scotland, the Scots again became a potentially serious problem to the English crown taking advantage of the changing international situation to launch raids into northern England.46 In this context, Thomas Hatfield, as a warden of the east march, was instructed repeatedly to remain in the marches along with his household and retinue in the event of an anticipated Scottish invasion, even gaining an exemption from attendance at parliament on these grounds in 1372. 47 Yet if the crown viewed Hatfield as first and foremost a royal servant, the bishop also saw himself as the custodian of the palatinate’s traditions. To Bishop Thomas Hatfield, as to Antony Bek, the palatinate was clearly a source of personal prestige.48 Edward III’s repeated acknowledgement of Hatfield’s status as ‘earl palatine’ in 1376 can only have appealed to the bishop’s sense of his own importance and of the dignity derived from his own special relationship with the king as the king’s minister.49 It is no wonder that copies of Edward III’s letters of 17 July and 21 July 1376 were enrolled in Hatfield’s episcopal register and the chancery rolls of his palatine administration as a permanent reminder of the bishop’s exclusive status.50 Nonetheless, Hatfield also took seriously his responsibilities as the ruler of the palatinate, and was remembered locally for his restoration of Durham castle and his construction of the bishop’s hall and the constable’s hall within the castle, as well as the financing at his own cost of a tower to strengthen the city walls of Durham.51 To Hatfield, like his successors in the fifteenth century, ‘the interests of the palatinate 42 See, for example, CCR, 1369–74, pp. 18–19. 43 For the circumstances of Hatfield’s election, see A. D. M. Barrell, The Papacy, Scotland, and

Northern England: 1342–1378 (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 195–6.

44 J. R. L. Highfield, ‘The English Hierarchy in the Reign of Edward III’, TRHS 5th ser. 6 (1956), p. 135. 45 CPR, 1354–8, p. 347; CPR, 1358–61, pp. 322–3. 46 A. J. Macdonald, Border Bloodshed: Scotland and England at War, 1369–1403 (East Linton, 2000),

pp. 19–44.

47 See, for example, CCR, 1369–74, pp. 18–19, 361, 464; CCR, 1377–81, p. 6. 48 Perhaps the best insight into the character of Hatfield is afforded by his magnificently ornate

two-storey funerary monument comprising the effigy of the bishop on an altar tomb below his episcopal throne, located in the choir of Durham cathedral. For a description of the monument, see Scriptores Tres, pp. 137–8. 49 Cf. Fraser, ‘Regalian Franchise of Durham’, p. 333. 50 DCM, Hatfield’s Register, fol. 90r; DURH 3/31, m. 8r. 51 Scriptores Tres, p. 138.

The Politics of Privilege

69

remained central to his actions’.52 Above all, he sought to uphold its autonomy. In his obituary Hatfield was described as a bishop who ‘defended, to the best of his ability, the rights of the liberty of the bishopric against outsiders’ [‘et jura libertatis episcopatus, secundum vires, contra extraneos defendebat’].53 The most important immunity which the inhabitants of the liberty claimed in the second half of the fourteenth century was fiscal, namely exemption from direct taxation, an exemption which had been ‘acquired piecemeal’ and which the bishop of Durham was determined to preserve in its entirety.54 In particular, Hatfield saw it as his responsibility to preserve the territorial integrity of the whole palatinate, which included not only the area between Tyne and Tees known as ‘the bishopric’, but also the geographically detached portions of the liberty in the form of Norhamshire, Islandshire and Bedlingtonshire north of the Tyne, and the manor of Crayke south of the Tees. In 1345, at the beginning of his pontificate, Thomas Hatfield petitioned the king and council to complain about the activities of the sheriff of Northumberland who, on the order of the royal exchequer, had distrained the bishop’s tenants in Norhamshire, Bedlingtonshire, Islandshire and Crayke, forcing them to pay the ninth of 1340 for the war against France, when they were in fact quit of all kinds of royal tax as a parcel of the bishop’s liberty of Durham between Tyne and Tees.55 The bishop made no attempt to argue that Durham’s role as a buffer against the Scots was the basis of its exemption from taxation, implying a trade-off between financial and military support.56 Rather, the immunity of the whole palatinate from royal taxation was grounded in a much older culture of custom and tradition. The bishop’s contention was that the palatinate had always been free from royal taxation, that the imposition of the ninth in Bedlingtonshire, Norhamshire, Islandshire and Crayke was a novelty, and that the tax was to the disinheritance of St Cuthbert of Durham. The story told by Symeon of Durham about the fate of William the Conqueror’s tax collector who came north to the bishopric in the 1070s to ‘compel the people of St Cuthbert to pay tribute to the king’, but who left empty-handed when, at Cuthbert’s intervention, he was struck down by illness and was only cured once he left the bishopric, may well have been familiar to the bishop.57 The crown’s attempt to extend the statist principle of obligation in return for privilege, from military service to war finance, also led to conflict with the bishop’s subjects precipitated by the summoning of an eyre on the death of Bishop Hatfield’s predecessor, Richard de Bury, in 1345. Such a summons had occurred in the event of episcopal vacancies in 1311 and 1333, but not in 1318, and there can be little doubt that the crown saw the summons of an eyre in 1345 as a valuable way of raising money for the war with France which it could not levy through the usual 52 53 54 55

Thornton, ‘Fifteenth-Century Durham’, p. 97. Scriptores Tres, p. 137. Scammell, ‘Origin and Limitations’, p. 450 n. 2. Northern Petitions, ed. C. M. Fraser, Surtees Society 194 (1981), pp. 271–2. The ninth was a tax in kind of corn, wool and sheep: M. Jurkowski et al., Lay Taxes in England and Wales, 1188–1688 (Kew, 1998), pp. 43–6. 56 Cf. T. Thornton, ‘Taxing the King’s Dominions: The Subject Territories of the English Crown in the Late Middle Ages’, in Crises, Revolutions and Self-Sustained Growth: Essays in European Fiscal History, 1130–1830, ed. W. M. Ormrod et al. (Stamford, 1999), pp. 98–9. 57 Symeon of Durham, Libellus de Exordio Atque Procursu Istius, Hoc Est Dunhelmensis, Ecclesie: Tract on the Origins and Progress of this the Church of Durham, ed. and trans. D. Rollason (Oxford, 2000), pp. 196–9.

70

Christian D. Liddy

method of parliamentary taxation within the liberty.58 The holding of a royal eyre in Durham would, of course, subvert the judicial independence of the palatinate, and so in 1345, upon the death of Richard Bury, the community of Durham did what it had done in 1311 and 1333 and decided to pay a fine to the crown in lieu of the eyre. In June 1345 the community of Durham, represented by two prominent members of the county gentry, Roger de Blakeston and Thomas de Seaton, agreed to pay a fine of 600 marks to the king to cancel judicial proceedings, the two men duly receiving a salary from the community for their negotiations with the king and council down at Westminster on its behalf.59 In fact, the money from the men of the bishopric was not forthcoming, for they knew that the fine was a tax in all but name. And such was their hostility towards the payment of the tax that they tried to make John Fossor, the prior of Durham, the archdeacons of Durham and Northumberland, and the clergy of the archdeaconry of Durham contribute to the fine due from the community of Durham, an action which they complained to Bishop Hatfield was contrary to their ecclesiastical immunities and liberties and canonical statute.60 In the end, despite the community’s promise that the fine would be paid in full by Michaelmas 1345, the new bishop of Durham, Thomas Hatfield, was forced to pay the fine himself and was only later, in early 1349, reimbursed by the community of Durham, and then only in part. Of the fine of 600 marks which the men of the bishopric agreed to pay in 1345, Bishop Hatfield was only granted a total of 400 marks on 10 March 1349 by the magnates, ‘proceres’ and the whole community of the royal liberty of Durham ‘for the great labours and various expenses’ incurred by the bishop ‘against the lord king of England for maintaining the said liberty’.61 Blakeston and Seaton finally cleared their account with the crown in 1351.62 The 1349 subsidy seems to have been the last occasion on which the Durham community paid a tax to the bishop in the later Middle Ages. In this respect Durham was wholly different from other privileged communities such as the palatinate of Chester or the Welsh marcher lordships, which were exempt from royal taxation but which nonetheless paid taxation to their respective lord. There was nothing in Durham similar to the Cheshire mise which evolved in the mid-fourteenth century to help finance the military expeditions to Aquitaine of the earl of Chester, the Black Prince, and which became established in the course of the fifteenth century as an obligatory payment made by the community of Cheshire on the accession of a new earl as an acknowledgement of his lordship.63 Nor was Durham like the marches, whose lords could impose taxation almost at will.64 The bishop’s palatine administration did have its own mechanisms in place to raise taxation. The commissions of February 1343, issued by the bishop ‘with the common counsel and unanimous consent of the whole community of our lordship and royal liberty of Durham and Sadberge’ to raise £160 between Tyne and Tees to pay for a truce with the Scots, demonstrate that the system was well established and 58 D. Crook, ‘The Later Eyres’, EHR 97 (1982), pp. 253–5, 263–6. 59 CCR, 1343–6, p. 524; CFR, 1337–47, p. 422; DCM, Misc.Ch. 6059. 60 DCM, Priory Register II, fol. 127v. Although not dated, the document refers to John Fossor and

immediately precedes material dated 1345.

61 DURH 3/30, m. 4d. 62 There is an extract from the pipe roll of 25 Edward III in DCM, Priory Register II, fol. 145r. 63 Booth, Lordship and County of Chester, pp. 118–26; P. J. Morgan, ‘Cheshire and the Defence of the

Principality of Aquitaine’, Transactions of the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire 128 (1979), pp. 142–5; and Thornton, ‘Taxing the King’s Dominions’, p. 101. 64 R. R. Davies, Lordship and Society in the March of Wales, 1282–1400 (Oxford, 1978), pp. 183–7.

The Politics of Privilege

71

highly sensitive to the geographical distribution of wealth within the bishopric.65 But the bishop could not have levied taxes within Durham even if he had wanted. He was up against a body of local opinion which may in part have been in tune with a developing national parliamentary culture, according to which taxation could only be granted on the grounds of necessity, such as impending Scottish invasion, but which was buttressed by a much stronger expectation that the bishop, with one of the largest and most compact estates in England, should live of his own.66 Thus, when conflicts did arise from the operation of palatine government, they took place between the bishop and his tenants over the exercise of the bishop’s lordship. In 1353 the community of Durham successfully petitioned the crown for a confirmation of the ‘charter of liberties’ granted by Bishop Antony Bek to ‘the community of the franchise of Durham’ in May 1303, which had dealt largely with issues relating to the bishop’s administration of his landed resources.67 By the second half of the fourteenth century there was an increasingly entrenched idea within the bishopric of Durham that the inhabitants of the liberty simply did not pay taxation, whether royal or local, the very fact of which helps to explain the evanescent nature of the community of Durham. Without the pressure and stimulus of recurrent taxation in Durham, it was unlikely that a powerful palatine representative assembly would develop. In this respect the political culture of Durham was very different not just from England, but from the other greater liberties where there was a well established notion of reciprocity in which local communities negotiated with their lords for the redress of grievances and the grant of charters of liberties in return for their consent to taxation.68 The argument that the immunity of the palatinate of Durham from parliamentary taxation was more theoretical than real and that ‘exemption from taxation was more expensive than the tax’, since the palatinate ‘often redeemed itself with a fine greater than the tax’ and made its own arrangements to pay direct taxation without the interference of the crown’s officials, simply does not stand up.69 The bishop’s subjects clearly had much to gain, financially at least, from the maintenance of the palatinate’s fiscal independence. In the years after 1369 the palatinate had to confront a serious challenge to its tradition of fiscal immunity in the form of the imposition of the parish subsidy of 1371. This was, of course, not the usual form of parliamentary taxation known as fifteenths and tenths from which Durham had already established its exemption, but

65 RPD, IV, pp. 273–6. Durham was divided into wards for the purposes of palatine administration and

66

67 68 69

tax assessment. The amounts due from each ward in 1343 were fixed according to previous practice and the largest contribution came from the south-east, the most prosperous part of the liberty. For the nature of the episcopal estate, see R. H. Britnell, ‘Feudal Reaction after the Black Death in the Palatinate of Durham’, Past and Present 128 (1990), pp. 28–47. As the example of 1349 showed, even in a situation where there was a need to raise money for a communal purpose to refund the bishop for his payment of the fine to buy off the royal eyre, the bishop’s subjects still expected the bishop to foot a substantial part of the bill himself. Something similar happened in 1311 when the see was also vacant. Though the men of the bishopric promised to reimburse the new bishop the 1,000 marks paid to the king on their behalf, they never did so: Crook, ‘Later Eyres’, p. 255 n. 2, drawing on Scriptores Tres, p. 93. Fraser, ‘Regalian Franchise’, pp. 338–9. Thornton, ‘Taxing the King’s Dominions’, pp. 99–100. Scammell, ‘Origin and Limitations’, pp. 470, 450 n. 2. The only evidence for this assertion comes from 1436 in relation to the income tax granted by parliament in the previous year: Lapsley, County Palatine, p. 117.

72

Christian D. Liddy

an innovative tax based on the unit of the parish.70 It is important to note that the idea for the tax did not belong to the king or his ministers, but rather the lords and especially the commons in parliament, in order to meet the growing financial costs of war. Parliament’s concern in the years after 1369 was to spread the burden of war finance more widely and there was a sustained attempt by the parliamentary commons to break down the traditional fiscal autonomy of many privileged communities within England, including the palatinates of Chester and Durham, but also liberties such as the Cinque Ports. In this respect, the imposition of the parish subsidy in the palatinate of Durham should not be seen as a direct attack on palatine privilege by the crown. The problem for Durham was that the form of the 1371 tax made it hard for the bishop of Durham to resist: on 22 May 1371 Bishop Hatfield received a letter from Edward III addressed to him as diocesan rather than earl palatine, requiring him to provide the names of all the parish churches within his diocese rather than specifically within his secular franchise.71 It was difficult to mount a defence of traditional palatine fiscal immunity when the palatinate was not ostensibly the intended unit of taxation. Nonetheless, the information provided to the crown amounted to a form of consent and allowed it to tax the parishes of the bishop’s liberty. On 8 June 1371 the bishop was instructed to oversee the collection of the subsidy in the palatinate amounting to a total of £353 16s.72 It is no surprise that news of the tax met with defiance within Durham. Not only did the tax itself challenge fundamentally the liberty’s exemption from parliamentary taxation, but the means of assessment wholly undermined the usual mechanisms of tax collection in the liberty which gave the tax collectors considerable discretion in the distribution of the fiscal burden.73 The extent of the resistance is revealed by the length of time it took for the crown to receive its contribution from Durham. The crown blamed the tax collectors, who were appointed locally by the bishop rather than at the centre, for the delay. Certainly, the commission was led by major figures within the Durham knightly class including Thomas Surtees, John Conyers, William Claxton and Ralph Eure, leading members of the Durham community, and on 1 September 1372, at the request of the bishop of Durham, the king’s council was forced to respond to the tax collectors’ negligence and ‘tepiditatem’.74 The king’s council ordered the tax collectors to assess and collect the tax, a process which had evidently not yet begun in the liberty, and gave them a new schedule for the deliverance of the subsidy at the exchequer. In addition, the tax collectors were summoned before the king and council to explain themselves. Still, however, the crown’s orders went unnoticed in the palatinate, and on 8 December 1373 the crown provided yet another tax schedule to the Durham tax collectors.75 Finally, and very much as a last resort given the severity and economic cost of Scottish raids in the border region, the bishop issued a separate commission on 8 March 1374 to levy the subsidy upon the parishes and chapelries of the bishop’s franchise 70 For the novel nature of the tax, see W. M. Ormrod, ‘An Experiment in Taxation: The English Parish

Subsidy of 1371’, Speculum 63 (1988), pp. 58–82, especially pp. 58–61.

71 SC 1/55/109. The other bishops received similar writs seeking information on the number of parishes

in their dioceses: Ormrod, ‘Experiment in Taxation’, p. 63.

72 CFR, 1369–77, p. 128. Cf. Ormrod, ‘Experiment in Taxation’, p. 78. 73 In 1343 the tax commissioners were instructed specifically to apportion the sum due from all the vills

and hamlets in their respective ward according to their discretion: RPD, IV, pp. 273–6.

74 CFR, 1369–77, p. 181; DCM, 1.4.Reg.7. 75 CFR, 1369–77, p. 224.

The Politics of Privilege

73

of Norhamshire in order to compensate for the financial shortfall from the main part of the palatinate and contribute towards the total sum due from the liberty.76 On 21 November 1374, after over three years of negotiation, resistance and delay, the tax from the men of the liberty of Durham (‘de hominibus libertatis Dunelmensis’) was finally received, and the note in the exchequer receipt roll that the money had been granted voluntarily by the community of Durham (‘spontanea voluntate sua’) was an important and misleading fiction.77 The wording of the grant amounted to the crown’s acknowledgement of the financial independence of Durham and of the important principle within the liberty that taxation could not be levied simply at will but required consent.78 If the crown wanted to tax the palatinate in future, then it had to negotiate separately with the local community, and as its experiences with the 1371 parish subsidy had shown, this was not going to be a straightforward process. The attempt to draw Durham into the system of public finance had, ultimately, been a success, but at what cost? Provincial autonomy was a potent and intransigent force in the politics of fourteenth-century Durham. It is no wonder that on 20 November 1374 the royal chancery issued letters patent informing the men of the liberty of Durham that their payment of the parish subsidy would not be drawn into a precedent.79 This was the price Durham exacted for the money which the royal exchequer received a day later. The crown was true to its word, for when another novel form of lay taxation was introduced in the late 1370s, Durham remained exempt. In this period various English liberties traditionally exempt from taxation, including the palatinates of Chester and Durham, the Cinque Ports, and the stannary men (the workers in the tin mines of Devon and Cornwall),80 came under repeated attack from the parliamentary commons: commons’ petitions were presented to the crown regarding one or other of these liberties in the Good Parliament of 1376, the January Parliament of 1377, the Gloucester Parliament of 1378, the April Parliament of 1379, the January 1380 Parliament, and the November 1380 Parliament.81 The sustained parliamentary criticism of these privileged franchises had several causes,82 but the chronology is surely significant, indicating that it was fuelled by the pressures of war and specifically by the growing need to incorporate previously exempt communities into the national system of public finance. The complaints from the communities of Devon and Cornwall about the stannary men were certainly prompted by a concern that the latter’s traditional privilege of fiscal immunity was being exploited by those 76 DURH 3/31, m. 5r. The figure of £353 16s due from Durham implies a notional total of 61 parishes,

77 78 79 80

81

82

slightly fewer than the actual number of parishes between Tyne and Tees. Norhamshire here meant the shires of Norham and Island, which were ‘treated as a single unit’ for administrative purposes: Storey, Langley, p. 81. E 401/518, 21 Nov. 1374. ‘Misleading’ in the sense that the bishop rather than the local community had given his consent to the levy of the subsidy. Cf. Thornton, ‘Taxing the King’s Dominions’, p. 104. CPR, 1374–7, p. 30; Scriptores Tres, pp. cxlii–cxliii. J. F. Willard, Parliamentary Taxes on Personal Property, 1290–1334 (Cambridge, MA, 1934), pp. 110–20; L. F. Salzman, ‘Mines and Stannaries’, in The English Government at Work, 1327–1336, ed. J. F. Willard et al., 3 vols (Cambridge, MA, 1940–50), III, pp. 88–104. RP, II, pp. 343–5 (the stannaries of Devon and Cornwall), 352–3 (Cheshire and Welsh march), 371 (the stannaries of Devon and Cornwall); III, pp. 42 (Cheshire), 62 (Cheshire), 81 (Welsh march and Cheshire), 94 (Cheshire, Durham, and the Cinque Ports). There was, for example, a particular concern about the state of law and order among the English counties bordering the palatinate of Chester, the causes of which are considered in P. H. W. Booth, ‘Taxation and Public Order: Cheshire in 1353’, Northern History 12 (1976), pp. 16–31.

74

Christian D. Liddy

other than the tinners working in the mines, such as mining employers and their servants wishing to avoid payment of tax.83 Most explicitly, in the parliament of November 1380, which saw the parliamentary commons grant the third poll tax, the commons requested, ‘as they have prayed before this time, that the county of Chester, the bishopric of Durham, the Cinque Ports and all other similar places within the kingdom which are not included within the common taxes, should be charged amongst themselves according to their means’ to contribute to the defence of the realm.84 It was this kind of parliamentary pressure which persuaded the crown to issue writs in May 1379 addressed to the palatinates of Chester and Durham as well as the Cinque Ports instructing their holders to appoint tax collectors in their respective liberties to assess the second poll tax, a demand which, in the case of all three liberties, was subsequently cancelled.85 In fact, the palatinates of Durham and Chester were in a peculiarly vulnerable position in the parliamentary politics of the 1370s, lacking the representation in the commons necessary to defend their position, and facing a commons especially sensitive to the differences as well as the similarities between them. After all, the members of parliament were drawn from local communities and were extremely knowledgeable of local conditions. They would have known from Lancashire’s MPs that the palatinate of Lancaster, first established for Henry of Lancaster in 1351 and then re-created for John of Gaunt in 1377 after a period of abeyance, was not exempt from parliamentary taxation.86 In this sense, the fiscal challenges confronting Durham and Chester after 1369 did not stem directly from the crown, but rather from the provinces themselves. When palatine privilege became an issue in national politics and a subject of sustained parliamentary debate in the 1370s, the crown did not just respect, but also preserved, palatine fiscal immunity from future encroachments. In November 1380 the crown agreed to include the Cinque Ports in the third poll tax, but stated, with regard to Cheshire and the bishopric of Durham, that ‘the king will do what he can; saving their franchise’,87 an answer which, in the circumstances, amounted to a strident defence of palatine fiscal autonomy. Pressed by the parliamentary commons to justify their exemption from taxation, the men of Cheshire had recourse to a constitutional principle of no taxation without representation, a maxim already deeply enshrined in the political culture of the palatinate, which the crown was now willing to accept. In July 1380 the crown agreed to cancel the demand for the collection of the second poll tax in the liberty of Chester on the grounds that, ‘as no knights of that shire came to the parliaments of the king or the late king nor used heretofore to come to agree to grant such subsidies … the commons thereof are not bound to contribute to any such subsidies granted by the commons of other counties’.88 Though there is no specific evidence that Durham mounted such a principled defence of its freedom from parliamentary taxation, the 83 Salzman, ‘Mines and Stannaries’, pp. 89–90. 84 RP, III, p. 94. 85 CFR, 1377–81, p. 152; C. C. Fenwick, The Poll Taxes of 1377, 1379 and 1381, Part I (Oxford, 1998),

pp. xxi–xxii. For the parliamentary background, see Ormrod, ‘Experiment in Taxation’, pp. 78–9.

86 The comparison with Lancaster is made in Ormrod, ‘Experiment in Taxation’, pp. 78–9. Lancaster’s

financial liability was made explicit in the 1351 grant: CPR, 1350–4, p. 60.

87 RP, III, p. 94. 88 CCR, 1377–81, p. 472. For discussion, see W. H. Bird, ‘Taxation and Representation in the County

Palatine of Chester’, EHR 30 (1915), p. 303. A similar argument in almost identical words was expressed by the men of Cheshire in response to the collection of the 1378 grant of a subsidy of tonnage and poundage in the port of Chester: CCR, 1381–5, p. 289.

The Politics of Privilege

75

notion that the community of Durham had granted its contribution to the 1371 parish subsidy voluntarily, separate from arrangements at Westminster, hints perhaps at the existence of a similar sentiment. In many ways, therefore, the palatinate of Durham’s fiscal independence from Westminster remained intact in the period 1369–81. Why was the crown willing to respect Durham’s tradition of immunity from taxation when it had challenged it in the past? Why did the crown treat Durham differently from other parts of the kingdom when, as the parliamentary commons pointed out repeatedly, military and financial necessity demanded otherwise? On the one hand, as Tim Thornton has shown, custom was an important part of late medieval English legal and political culture, and even a king such as Edward I did have a basic respect for the traditions of the marcher liberties.89 Edward III had a similar regard for precedent, unlike some of his officials who, entrusted with the responsibility of raising as much money as possible for the king’s wars, were prepared to nibble away at palatine privilege on the margin.90 As the dispute over the immunity of Norhamshire, Islandshire, Bedlingtonshire and Crayke from the ninth of 1340 rumbled on into the 1360s, the king intervened regularly to prevent the exchequer from enforcing their liability to pay the tax until it had been firmly established whether they had enjoyed tax exemption in the past.91 On the other hand, the crown had learned from its experience of conflict with the palatinate that there was little value in trying to tax the liberty when local resistance meant that the process of tax assessment and collection could be so protracted. Thus, when Thomas Hatfield died in May 1381, the crown made no attempt to summon an eyre in Durham as it had in the past on the occasion of an episcopal vacancy.92 Above all, however, the crown and the palatinate were bound by a notion of reciprocity. In part, this concept was rooted in the discourse of military service and palatine privilege which, though well established, had a particular resonance in the mid-1370s when Scottish attacks in the north of England reached a new level of intensity,93 but it owed most to the crown’s increasing ability to tap the wealth of the liberty in other ways. One consequence of the crown’s reliance upon its own subjects for loans from the mid-fourteenth century to finance the war with France was that the bishop of Durham became a major royal creditor. In the summer of 1359 Thomas Hatfield lent £1,000 for Edward III’s Rheims campaign,94 but this was nothing compared to the loans he made following the resumption of the Hundred Years War in 1369. In June 1370 Hatfield lent 2,000 marks to the crown, which was followed in August 1371 by another loan, also of 2,000 marks.95 The English episcopate lent almost £10,000 to Edward III’s military campaigns between spring 1370 and summer 1371, with only William Wykeham, bishop of Winchester and royal 89 90 91 92

Thornton, ‘Fifteenth-Century Durham’, p. 100; Davies, March of Wales, pp. 256–7. Cf. Thornton, ‘Fifteenth-Century Durham’, p. 100. CCR, 1346–9, p. 3; CCR, 1354–60, pp. 113–14; CCR, 1360–4, p. 118. A point noted in Crook, ‘Later Eyres’, p. 268, although he also suggests that the Peasants’ Revolt distracted the crown. 93 Macdonald, Border Bloodshed, pp. 45–74. In December 1377 Richard II’s council sent a writ to the archbishop of York prohibiting his proposed visitation of the diocese of Durham on the grounds of the king’s awareness ‘that since he took upon him the governance of the realm those enemies [of Scotland] have made inroads, committed manslaughters and robberies, and have spied out and burned boroughs and towns within his realm and dominions’: CCR, 1377–81, p. 111. 94 CPR, 1358–61, p. 236. 95 Foedera, III, ii, pp. 893, 921.

76

Christian D. Liddy

chancellor, lending more than Hatfield.96 Wykeham and Hatfield actually lent over half the total provided by Edward III’s bishops.97 Why was Hatfield so generous? Did the loans reflect the bishop’s position as a trusted royal servant who was particularly close to the royal court in the last years of Edward III’s reign?98 The assumption that Thomas Hatfield remained, in the last years of his reign, a curialist bishop who had strong personal connections with the king and the royal court, is mistaken. It was true of the 1340s, for which we have evidence that he was a regular charter witness between 1345 and 1349,99 but it was certainly not the case in the 1370s, when Hatfield continued to be a valuable royal servant, who served on the Scottish border rather than at Westminster. In contrast to the general pattern of growing episcopal attendance at the royal court in the 1370s, as identified by Chris Given-Wilson, there is no evidence that Hatfield witnessed a royal charter after the mid-fourteenth century.100 Nor is it the case that Hatfield and John Neville, Lord of Raby, the most powerful lay magnate in the palatinate and the king’s steward from 1371, enjoyed a particularly intimate relationship in the late 1360s and early 1370s, since Hatfield’s attention was focused firmly on the north of England while Neville’s main interest became London and the royal court.101 This is most clearly evidenced by the indenture of retainer dated 21 May 1368 between Thomas Hatfield and John Neville in which the latter agreed to serve the former for life, ostensibly to assist in the defence of the northern border as a co-warden of the east march, but largely to act as one of the bishop’s councillors in peace and war. The indenture acknowledged that the king and John of Gaunt, in particular, had a prior hold on his loyalties, stating that Neville should serve the bishop ‘unless he shall be disturbed by the service of our lord the king or the duke of Lancaster, his son, with whom he is retained’.102 Neville’s main loyalty was to Gaunt.103 In fact, it would appear that Neville was able to use his influence at court against the bishop: in February 1371, the king, at Neville’s request, issued a pardon to a member of Neville’s affinity for having broken into the bishop’s exchequer at Durham and stolen 1,000 marks. 104 Decisive evidence that the bishop was not especially close either to the king or to his courtiers in this period is to be found in the fact that Hatfield did not receive preferential treatment at the exchequer in the repayment of his loans. The first loan of 2,000 marks was initially assigned repayment on 13 June 1370 from a grant of a triennial clerical tenth in the dioceses of York and Durham, but the five tallies were

96 97 98

99 100 101 102 103 104

W. M. Ormrod, The Reign of Edward III: Crown and Political Society in England, 1327–1377 (London, 1990), p. 136. Most of the bishops lent relatively small sums varying between 100 and 200 marks. See, for example, E 401/500, 26 March 1370. This is the argument of B. A. Barker, ‘The Claxtons: A North-Eastern Gentry Family in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries’ (unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Teesside, 2003), pp. 205–6. C. Given-Wilson, ‘Royal Charter Witness Lists, 1327–1399’, Medieval Prosopography 12 (1991), p. 83. Ibid. p. 56. M. Arvanigian, ‘A Lancastrian Polity? John of Gaunt, John Neville and the War with France, 1368–88’, in Fourteenth Century England III, ed. W. M. Ormrod (Woodbridge, 2004), pp. 126–7. DURH 3/31, m. 2r, inspected and confirmed by the prior of Durham in the chapterhouse of Durham priory on 10 July 1368: DCM, Priory Register II, fol. 271r–v. This is the theme of Arvanigian, ‘A Lancastrian Polity?’, pp. 121–42. CPR, 1370–4, p. 38.

The Politics of Privilege

77

revoked. Hatfield subsequently remitted £666 13s 4d to the crown leaving an outstanding £666 13s 4d, for which he was assigned repayment on 25 October 1376, an assignment which was also later cancelled. Repayment was eventually made on 24 October 1380.105 The bishop’s loan of 2,000 marks on 4 August 1371 was assigned repayment on 19 August 1371 from the same triennial clerical tenth in the dioceses of York and Durham as the earlier loan, but this assignment was cancelled, and though reassignment was promised on 25 October 1376, some of the money was still not forthcoming. Repayment of the remainder of this loan and the 1370 loan was made on 24 October 1380, but the bishop had been forced to surrender 500 marks of unpaid credit as a gift in order to ensure that the assignment would not be revoked.106 Indeed, the bishop received so many bad tallies and cancelled assignments from the exchequer that he decided to turn to a powerful intercessor and solicited the help of Alice Perrers, Edward III’s mistress. First, in March 1374, Hatfield used his position as universal landlord within the palatinate to grant a series of lucrative wardships and marriages of his tenants-in-chief to the king’s mistress,107 and then, in October 1375, he handed over all his unpaid tallies to Perrers who promised to help him at the exchequer.108 According to Hatfield’s later petition to Richard II and his council, Perrers then abused the bishop’s trust, delivering to the exchequer two of the tallies in the bishop’s name but without the bishop’s consent and thereby paying off 1,000 marks of her own debt to the king.109 The brokerage of royal debts by members of the courtier clique for personal profit was one of the main financial charges brought in the Good Parliament of 1376 and the bishop of Durham seems to have been another who had suffered at the hands of the court party.110 It was this debt of 1,000 marks which was recorded in Hatfield’s will in 1381 and which Hatfield left to his godson, Thomas of Woodstock, and to his nephew, John de Popham, to collect from Sir William Windsor, ‘on account of Alice Perrers, now his wife’.111 Hatfield was not a member but a victim of the court circle surrounding Edward in the early 1370s. Rather than a confirmation of Hatfield’s links to Edward III’s court, it is more likely that the loans of 1370 and 1371 were an attempt to safeguard the palatinate’s autonomy from future fiscal encroachment by the crown. In this respect, as we have seen, the strategy was largely successful. Furthermore, there is no evidence among the bishop’s chancery rolls that he was forced to borrow money from his subjects in order to lend to the crown. The bishop’s personal loans helped to preserve the financial autonomy of the liberty of Durham. Viewed from another perspective, Hatfield’s role as a major royal creditor and his protracted and complex dealings with the royal exchequer helped to strengthen the crown’s influence in the political life of Durham. Hatfield’s loans to the crown involved him directly in the factional politics of the royal court and as he sought to 105 Foedera, III, ii, p. 893; E 401/501, 10 June 1370; E 401/523, 25 Oct. 1376; E 403/481, 24 Oct. 1380. 106 Foedera, III, ii, p. 921; E 401/505, 4, 19 Aug. 1371; E 401/523, 25 Oct. 1376; SC 8/107/5317;

E 403/481, 24 Oct. 1380.

107 DURH 3/31, mm. 5d, 9d. For further evidence of Perrers’ involvement in the land market in this

108 109 110 111

period, see J. Bothwell, ‘The Management of Position: Alice Perrers, Edward III, and the Creation of a Landed Estate, 1362–1377’, Journal of Medieval History 25 (1998), pp. 31–51. Northern Petitions, pp. 220–1. Ibid., p. 221. This was the ‘remissio’ of £666 13s 4d recorded on the exchequer receipt roll. G. Holmes, The Good Parliament (Oxford, 1975), pp. 77, 113–14. Testamenta Eboracensia I, ed. J. Raine, Surtees Society 4 (1836), pp. 121–2.

78

Christian D. Liddy

recover his money, he was forced to try to gain the support of some powerful royal courtiers to press his case, most notably Alice Perrers, but also Nicholas Carew, Edward III’s keeper of the privy seal.112 Hatfield’s credit dealings also brought certain members of Durham political society into the orbit of the royal court. For instance, Alice Perrers subsequently sold her rights of wardship and marriage in the palatinate to Sir Roger Fulthorpe, a sale which the bishop confirmed in January 1377.113 Sir Roger Fulthorpe of Tunstall was a prominent Durham justice, who became a justice of common bench in 1374 and chief justice of the palatinate in 1380.114 Local politics in Durham between 1369 and 1381 were not immune from fiscal and political developments at the centre. It would be a mistake, therefore, to assume that the crown lost ground after Edward I’s quo warranto proceedings,115 or that war forced the crown to grant greater autonomy to the palatinate in return for its military and financial support. The crown’s attitude in 1376 was entirely in keeping with Edward I’s earlier stance towards privileged jurisdictions. In his admonitory letters to the archbishop of York Edward III made it abundantly clear that the bishop of Durham was the holder of ‘royal privileges’ and that he possessed his power as earl palatine as a result of a delegation of ‘the king’s authority’.116 The crown’s view of the palatinate could not have been less ambivalent or more consistent: the bishop enjoyed his privileged position so long as he fulfilled his responsibilities to the crown. This assertion did not suggest ‘perplexed toleration’ or ‘royal sufferance’. It was the basic framework which the crown sought, with varying degrees of success, to impose upon all privileged franchises in late medieval England.117 Certainly, there was recurrent friction between the crown and the palatinate during the pontificate of Thomas Hatfield. Financial needs led to conflict over the precise boundaries of the palatinate and raised fundamental questions about its relationship to the outlying areas of the liberty north of the Tyne and south of the Tees. The crown also had to deal with the potential independence of ‘the community of the bishopric of Durham’ within the palatinate and found it very difficult to establish a tie of obligation with the local community for whom palatine autonomy was not devolved from, or dependent on, royal sanction but on the liberty’s own separate cultural traditions, notably the concept of the ‘Haliwerfolk’. In 1344, for instance, when the crown sent a commission into Hart, in the south-east of the bishopric, to conduct an inquisition post mortem, the free tenants of the manor refused to cooperate on the grounds that ‘they, like the other men of those parts, were “Haliwerfolk” and of the liberty of St. Cuthbert, where a writ of the realm does not run’.118 Yet what emerged through continual negotiation during the episcopate of Bishop Hatfield was a sophisticated 112 See Hatfield’s grant of a pardon for murder to two individuals from Heworth on the south bank of the

113 114 115 116 117

118

river Tyne in February 1376, which was issued at the petition of Carew: DURH 3/31, m. 7d. For Carew, see C. Given-Wilson, The Royal Household and the King’s Affinity: Service, Politics and Finance in England, 1360–1413 (London, 1986), pp. 143–4, 149–50. DURH 3/31, m. 9d. Select Cases in the Court of King’s Bench VI, ed. G. O. Sayles, Selden Society 82 (1965), p. lxxiii; DURH 3/31, mm. 7r, 9r–d, 10r, 11r, 14r. Cam, ‘Decline and Fall of English Feudalism’, pp. 208–9. CCR, 1374–7, pp. 427–8. For Cheshire, see G. Barraclough, The Earldom and County Palatine of Chester (Oxford, 1953), p. 20. In the Welsh marcher lordships it was a different story, for which see the suggestive comments of Cam, ‘Decline and Fall of English Feudalism’, p. 211, and Davies, March of Wales, p. 211. CIPM, XIV, pp. 383–4.

The Politics of Privilege

79

balance of interests between the crown and the palatinate, whose relationship was ultimately symbiotic rather than adversarial. The period 1369–81 saw a strengthening of this relationship, the main consequence of which was the growing importance of Westminster in the politics of the liberty.

Agnes Malt ravers and her Husband John

AGNES MALTRAVERS (d. 1375) AND HER HUSBAND, JOHN (d. 1364): REBEL WIVES, SEPARATE LIVES AND CONJUGAL VISITS IN LATER MEDIEVAL ENGLAND1 J. S. Bothwell When Agnes Maltravers died in the summer of 1375, she was one of wealthiest women of the lesser peerage. Holder of dower and jointure lands from three husbands, and an heiress in her own right, upon her death Agnes controlled at least twenty-eight manors spread throughout East Anglia, the Welsh Marches and the south-west. Her personal possessions at the time of the writing of her will were equally impressive: among other bequests, she was able to distribute valuable forget-me-nots to relatives and friends, including her ‘great cup’, one dragenall, six plates, six pottengers, six saucers, and two pitchers, all made of silver.2 As well as these and other valuable chattels given out to relatives and friends, at death, she also believed that she would have enough accessible cash to promise at least seventy pounds in monetary gifts to various churches, priories, hospitals, local houses of all four mendicant orders, as well as to servants and executors. Nonetheless, though she had luxurious tastes, as well as personal generosity, it is not as simple to say that Agnes was a spendthrift: for herself, she ordered ‘that no manner of finery of gold cloth should be put on my body except five candles, each candle of five pounds of wax’. Indeed, the affluence present at the end of her life masked a long period of genteel insecurity earlier on, when she had to fight both to regain and retain what was hers by right and also to look after the interests of her last, and most controversial, husband – John Maltravers.3 Agnes was the daughter of William de Bereford, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas – a charismatic individual who had been on the commission to hear complaints against Edward I’s treasurer,4 an executor to the will of Piers de Gaveston and later a Lancastrian retainer – and Margaret, daughter of Hugh, Lord de Plescy, the first peer of the family, but of a long line of Scottish, Welsh and 1

2 3

4

Many thanks to the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the British Academy, and the University of Leicester for funding the project from which this article has been drawn. Many thanks also to Mrs Clare Brown of Lambeth Palace Library, for her assistance in obtaining a copy of Agnes Maltravers’ will. Unless otherwise noted, all manuscript references are from The National Archives [Public Record Office], London. Will of Agnes Maltravers, dated 18 February 1374/5. Lambeth Palace Library, Register of Archbishop Sudbury, fol. 78r. Agnes, his second wife, crucial as she was to Maltravers’ later political and economic resurrection, has had far less research done on her. Despite being the recipient of aid from Edward III’s queen after 1330, Hardy makes no reference to her in his, albeit dated, biography: B. C. Hardy, Queen Philippa and her Times (London, 1910). There is a useful, if brief, outline of her life at www.medievalgenealogy.org.uk, mainly in connection with her first husband, Sir John de Argentein. A. Beardwood, ed., Records of the Trial of Walter Langeton, Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield 1307–1312, Camden Society 4th ser. 6 (1969), pp. 5–6.

Agnes Maltravers and her Husband John

81

French campaigners.5 Her first marriage, in 1317, was to John de Argentein, a widowed member of the Hertfordshire gentry,6 one time retainer of the earl of Pembroke and the direct descendent of one of the more important rebels of the 1260s.7 Unfortunately, Argentein died soon after their marriage, in the autumn of the next year, leaving Agnes a teenage widow with a six-month-old son.8 Nonetheless, even at this early stage, we find Agnes the centre of a brief controversy, when she had sued out in chancery a diem clausit extremum writ which was thereafter not declared in court, causing Nicholas de Latimer, her deceased husband’s lord for the manor of Melbourn (Cambs.), to risk losing control of the property.9 Despite this, the following January, Agnes was granted her dower estates, and many of the remaining Argentein properties were given to her father, with further lands granted in 1324.10 In all, these were generous provisions – including the Argentein family’s seat at Great Wymondley (Herts.) as well as another manor locally known as ‘Le Argenteins’ in Melbourn – more than likely the manor connected with the earlier suit. Thus when, in February 1321, Agnes received, at her father’s request, royal licence to marry again,11 she was a reasonably well off member of the county gentry. Her second marriage, to John de Nerford, appears to have been longer than her first – John died, without issue, before 5 February 132912 – but nonetheless left her twice widowed while still in her twenties. More positively, in addition to the dower estates she had from her first marriage, Agnes received further manors in East Anglia, including those of Wissett (Suffolk), and Tharston and Shotesham (Norfolk). Hence, when she decided to marry John Maltravers at some point between the spring of 1329 and October 1330, she was already a wealthy, well dowered, woman. Moreover, this wealth, and her growing maturity, helped her to begin to assert herself in defence of her interests – as when in 1329, after the death of Nerford but before her marriage to Maltravers, she ousted her late husband’s brother, Thomas, from various Nerford family lands in Norfolk which were supposed to have returned to Agnes in dower, but which Thomas had continued to hold.13 Of course, John Maltravers himself was one of the great survivors of the previous two decades of political turmoil, having not only been a Lancastrian and a Contrariant, but also a veteran of Bannockburn, captured and ransomed by the Scots after the defeat.14 By the time Agnes met him, he was in his prime, a great favourite 5

6

7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

A. Harding, ‘Bereford, Sir William (d. 1326)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford University Press, 2004) (www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/2191, accessed 16 May 2005); W. C. Bolland, Chief Justice Sir William Bereford (Cambridge, 1924); Complete Peerage, X, pp. 545–50. See R. Clutterbuck, The History and Antiquities of the County of Hertford (London, 1815–27), II, 538; there is a grant to the couple of 12d rent by Reginald de Oldestaple in 1317. Hertfordshire Record Office, no. 59315. H. W. Ridgeway, ‘Argentine, Sir Giles d’ (c.1210–1282)’, ODNB (www.oxforddnb.com/view/ article/641, accessed 16 May 2005). VCH Hertfordshire, III, p. 183. SC 8/58/2861. CCR 1318–23, p. 50; CCR 1323–7, p. 81. CPR 1317–21, p. 566. Definitely before 20 June 1329. CCR 1327–30, p. 471. CIM 1307–49, p. 292. C. Shenton, ‘Maltravers, John, first Lord Maltravers (c.1290–1364)’, ODNB (www.oxforddnb.com/ view/article/17907, accessed 16 May 2005); Complete Peerage, VIII, pp. 581–5. He was also connected with the earl of Pembroke through the Berkeley retinue and while at Bannockburn. J. R. S. Phillips, Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke 1307–1324: Baronial Politics in the Reign of Edward II (Oxford, 1970), pp. 75, 267.

82

J. S. Bothwell

of the Minority regime, granted a considerable number of lands, rights and important offices – including steward of the royal household and escheator of lands south of the Trent – and also charged with the politically sensitive imprisonment of the deposed Edward II. Indeed, throughout the story which follows, it must be kept in mind that when they married – Agnes was about thirty and John, forty – both had been married before (in Agnes’ case, twice), and therefore both had an idea as to how medieval marriage, and marriage related issues, worked. And this experience was to be needed in the aftermath of the Nottingham Coup of 1330, which not only saw the violent end of Isabella and Mortimer’s Minority regime, but also the condemnation of John Maltravers over the death of the earl of Kent. Unsurprisingly, with a 1,000 mark price on his head and facing execution, Maltravers quickly fled into exile on the Continent,15 leaving Agnes in a very precarious position, with all the couple’s lands seized,16 and their moveable possessions taken into the king’s hand.17 Indeed, unlike noble dowagers who gained a considerable amount of legal and economic power over the course of the later Middle Ages,18 wives of rebels, especially those still living, were in a very awkward, unlegislated position, and were far more limited in their actions than would have been the case had their husbands been either free or dead. As Ann Crawford points out in her article discussing the problems facing the Howard and de Vere women in the fifteenth century: The independent legal rights of a medieval wife were nonexistent and only as a widow was a woman able to exercise some control over her property and her future. While her husband was alive the two were regarded as being one in law. For most women this was merely academic, but the wife of a man convicted of treason might, at worst, find herself left with little more than her life and the gown she stood up in. The full rigours of the law were usually modified, but the degree of modification often depended on the amount of influence a wife or widow could bring to bear. It was arbitrary and could never be wholly relied upon.19 Though, as Crawford notes, there was some adjustment in the position of rebels’ wives starting in the mid thirteenth century, mainly as a result of developments in jointure settlements and entails, widow’s dower rights over forfeited lands, and Edward III’s propensity to allow wives to hold on to their inheritances;20 nonetheless the legal position of spouses of convicted rebels was still less than ideal during 15 CCR 1330–3, p. 165; CPR 1330–4, p. 144; C. Shenton, ‘Edward III and the Coup of 1330’, in The Age

16 17

18

19 20

of Edward III, ed. J. S. Bothwell (York, 2001), p. 18. Perhaps he was in the Holy Roman Empire for a while. J. Hutchins, The History and Antiquities of the County of Dorset, 3rd edn (London, 1861–73), III, p. 319. CFR 1327–37, p. 207; E 142/71/3–6, 11, 12. John, notably, was not a novice at abandoning wives in times of trouble, having deserted his first wife, Millicent, for the Continent after the defeat at Boroughbridge, leaving her to live off a pension of five pounds per annum provided by Edward II. CCR 1318–23, p. 427. R. E. Archer, ‘Rich Old Ladies: The Problem of Late Medieval Dowagers’, in Property and Politics: Essays in Later Medieval English History, ed. A. Pollard (Gloucester, 1984), pp. 16–19; for a more general discussion of upper-class women’s property rights, see R. M. Smith, ‘Women’s Property Rights under the Customary Law: Some Developments in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries’, TRHS 5th ser. 36 (1986), p. 167. A. Crawford, ‘Victims of Attainder: The Howard and de Vere Women in the Late Fifteenth Century’, Reading Medieval Studies 16 (1990), p. 59. Crawford, ‘Victims of Attainder’, pp. 61–2.

Agnes Maltravers and her Husband John

83

our period. Later in the fourteenth century the situation would improve further for rebel wives and widows in particular: in a statute of 1388 legislation was enacted in favour of such women continuing to hold jointures, in 1399 the Commons petitioned for a similar protection to be placed on dowers, and in the fifteenth century, Acts of Attainder often implicitly made provision for wives of rebels.21 For most of Agnes’ lifetime, however, the plight of the rebel widow went virtually unnoticed – at least in common and statutory law. Finally, unlike in the aftermath of the Barons’ Wars of the 1260s, and more in keeping with the policies of his father,22 Edward III himself made little official attempt to provide for the dependants of those who fell as a result of the Nottingham Coup. This was unsurprising, considering the fact that many of their confiscated estates went to build up a group of ‘New Men’, but it was also undeniably bad for many of the spouses involved.23 Agnes, however, was not nearly as passive as Maltravers’ first wife had been when it came to the impact of her husband’s actions upon her life. Indeed, her earlier resolve concerning the dower lands came to the fore again when she was finally left on her own – a resolve especially necessary now her father was dead (d. 1326), and her brother Edmund disappeared from view, not to resurface in connection with her until the mid 1330s. Initially, in the weeks after the coup, she petitioned the king and council directly for the dower lands from her first two husbands, seized by the escheator upon John Maltravers’ fall.24 When this brought no action, Agnes approached Edward III’s queen, Philippa of Hainault. Though it was not uncommon for individuals, and especially women, to petition the queen, the fact that her husband had been condemned for the death of the king’s uncle (the earl of Kent), as well as implicated in the death of Edward II himself (the present king’s father), made it a bold move on Agnes’ part. Nevertheless, on 26 February 1331, at the request of Queen Philippa, Agnes Maltravers was granted back 200 marks worth of land which she had held in dower or in jointure with John de Nerford.25 The following day, this time approved by king and council and presumably connected with the earlier petition, she was further granted the knight’s fees and advowsons of Nerford’s lands.26 Next, in March, the queen arranged for Agnes to have back all the dower lands connected with her first marriage, that to John de Argentein, and those in jointure with her second husband, Nerford: all approved by king and council.27 Finally, in the autumn of the same year, Agnes arranged for enlargements of the grants which Queen Philippa had arranged for her, namely that the lands were to be granted for her life rather than until other provision could be made28 – a clear victory for her claims over her dower lands. Moreover, soon after Maltravers’ exile, she took a firm hand in managing and 21 J. Ward, English Noblewomen in the Later Middle Ages (London, 1992), pp. 44–9; Archer, ‘Rich Old

Ladies’, p. 20.

22 C. H. Knowles, ‘The Resettlement of England after the Barons’ War, 1264–67’, TRHS 5th ser. 32

(1982), p. 28.

23 See J. S. Bothwell, Edward III and the English Peerage (Woodbridge, 2004), chapter 3; for another

24 25 26 27 28

case of rebel wives’ estates manipulated for the sake of royal supporters, see R. L. Friedrichs, ‘Rich Old Ladies Made Poor: The Vulnerability of Women’s Property in Late Medieval England’, Medieval Prosopography 21 (2000), pp. 222–9. SC 8/63/3108. CPR 1330–4, pp. 84, 89–90. Ibid., p. 120. Ibid., p. 106. Ibid., p. 215.

84

J. S. Bothwell

defending these returned dower lands. For instance, in the spring of 1331, Agnes purchased from the king all the corn sown by John in her key dower manors of Great and Little Wymondley and Melbourn (Herts.), as well as Wissett (Suffolk) and Shotesham and Tharston (Norfolk).29 Again, in June of 1335, Agnes was granted licences to make leases of her dower lands for her life and for terms of years30 – a further reinforcement of her rights over these properties. Indeed, she vigorously defended her dower rights throughout the 1330s and 1340s. In 1334, she had to protect herself against a renewed attack by Thomas Nerford, her dead husband’s brother, over control of her dower lands. Nerford had started this litigation before October 1330, while Maltravers was still in favour. However, while the case was ongoing, Maltravers forfeited as a result of the Nottingham Coup, and Thomas Nerford had to begin his legal challenges again – though now with Agnes as his opponent.31 Later in the 1330s, when a mistake was made concerning the identity of a chapel in Newmarket for which Agnes had the advowson rights from her first marriage, she petitioned the king’s council that ‘her right in the chapel should not be prejudiced by the mistake in the name made in the assignment thereof to her in dower’32 – another clear indication that she had her eye firmly on her rights. This is not to say that she did not have her problems in these years: in the spring of 1332, she had to be forgiven the £40 owed for the corn bought in 1331, and in 1338, she petitioned for relief from issues owed since 1330 when the lands of her three husbands were taken into royal possession.33 Nonetheless, she clearly was also putting considerable effort into regaining and retaining control of what was hers by right: an effort which many women in the same position would not have felt confident enough to make at the time. At the same time, however, Agnes was also active in defending the lands of her husband-in-exile, especially in the central courts,34 and more than probably with his counsel. Indeed, there is evidence of continued contact between the wife and her exiled husband throughout the 1330s and early 1340s. In July of 1332, for instance, Agnes received a protection granted until Easter of the next year, and in August she was granted letters patent nominating Nicholas Pynnok and Hugh de Berwyk as her attorneys in England while she went on pilgrimage ‘beyond the seas’35 – more than likely, as has been remarked,36 going to see her exiled husband. Next, at some point in 1334 or 1335, Maltravers himself appears to have slipped across to England, as in April of 1335 Edmund de Bereford (Agnes’ brother) was granted a pardon by the king’s council for receiving Maltravers, ‘lately banished from the realm’37 – as was 29 30 31 32 33 34

CFR 1327–37, p. 257. CPR 1334–8, p. 134. RP, III, p. 82a. CPR 1334–8, pp. 400–1. CPR 1330–4, p. 263; CPR 1338–40, p. 24. According to a recent study, aristocratic women in general appear to have known a considerable amount about the law in the fifteenth century, though whether this can also be said of the fourteenth century is less clear. See E. Hawkes, ‘ “She will … Protect and Defend her Rights Boldly by Law and Reason …”: Women’s Knowledge of Common Law and Equity Courts in Late Medieval England’, in Medieval Women and the Law, ed. N. J. Menuge (Woodbridge, 2000), pp. 145–61. 35 CPR 1330–4, p. 324: going with her ‘men, horses and equipment’. CCR 1330–3, p. 584. 36 Shenton, ‘Maltravers, John, First Lord Maltravers’, ODNB. 37 CPR 1334–8, p. 89. Going from a petition of 1335–6 (SC 8/33/1605), there may have been a blood connection between Edmund, and therefore Agnes, Bereford and Simon Bereford, which may in part explain Agnes’ marriage to Simon’s fellow Minority henchman John Maltravers, c. 1329. See also CCR 1327–30, p. 2; www.medievalgenealogy.org.uk

Agnes Maltravers and her Husband John

85

Thomas and Maurice Berkeley,38 William de Whitfield, all long-time associates, and the Abbot of Malmesbury.39 Moreover, in the same period, not only was William Montagu sent to interview Maltravers on the Continent about his part in the affairs of the Minority, but Montagu also had to be pardoned for harbouring him while in England.40 Finally, in 1342, Agnes was granted a royal licence to stay with her husband in Flanders ‘for such time as she please, notwithstanding that he is banished from the realm of England’.41 However, as indicated above, these meetings may have been more than an attempt to keep a long-distance marriage alive. They also seem to have been part of a game plan by John and Agnes to ‘hold the fort’ while he worked himself back into the king’s favour on the Continent. Part of this, as we have seen, was through petitioning the queen and king – which, of course, considering a fair amount of the land seized was her dower land, was as much in her interest as it was in his. But part, too, was also connected with the immediate fate of the properties which were not returned to Maltravers or his wife, apparently going into an unofficial trust in their favour. Indeed, Edward III regranted many of the Maltravers’ forfeited properties to John’s business associates and their families, individuals who notably did not contest the lands in the Common Pleas or King’s Bench after they were returned in 1351/2, and many of whom Maltravers and/or his wife remained in contact with during his exile and afterwards – including William Montagu, the Berkeley family, Robert FitzPaine and Nicholas de la Beche.42 For instance, over the course of the 1330s Edward III granted to FitzPaine for life, and then Montagu in remainder, the manors of Wootton, Frome Whitfeld, Marshwood and Worth Maltravers (Dorset), and the manor of Poole Keynes in Wiltshire, all previously held by Maltravers.43 FitzPaine had already, during the Minority period, arranged for some of these properties to be transferred to one Jordan de Bintre, chaplain, and for him to grant the same back to FitzPaine and his wife, Ela, in fee tail, with remainder to John Maltravers in fee simple.44 Further, the FitzPaine and Maltravers families were also linked by Robert de Sambourn, a chaplain who, in 1354, arranged for masses to be said for his own soul and those of Robert FitzPaine and John and Agnes Maltravers,45 and who in the later 1350s took part in a number of property transactions with the couple.46 As for William Montagu, the future earl of Salisbury, he 38 Links with the Berkeley family go back, not just to the Minority period, but also to the early reign of

39 40 41 42

43 44 45 46

Edward II. CCR 1313–18, pp. 77, 126; E 43/162/i–ii. Noted as being one of the retinue across in France with Maurice, Lord Berkeley, in 1321. J. Smyth, The Lives of the Berkeleys (Gloucester, 1883), I, pp. 228–9; note also the early connections with another Mortimer supporter, Thomas de Gournay: CPR 1317–21, pp. 451–2. CPR 1334–8, p. 111. Again, links with Whitfield go back to Edward II’s reign. CPR 1321–4, pp. 40, 164–5; CPR 1324–7, p. 223; CPR 1327–30, p. 384. CPR 1330–4, p. 535; CPR 1334–8, p. 88. CPR 1340–3, p. 378. For connections with de la Beche, and lands of Maltravers then granted to him, see CPR 1334–8, pp. 27, 88, 173; CFR 1327–37, pp. 420, 455. Some of the de la Beches were also Contrariants alongside Maltravers: CPR 1321–4, p. 40. CChR 1327–41, pp. 348–9, 359; CPR 1338–40, p. 393. CPR 1327–30, p. 182; C 260/91/28. Later on, in 1355, Ela, now widowed, acknowledged that she owed Maltravers £120. CCR 1354–60, p. 191. E 326/6350. CPR 1354–8, p. 595; CCR 1354–60, pp. 545–6, 616–17; CCR 1358–61, pp. 610–11. Agnes was still dealing with Sambourn into the 1370s, and he was named in her will. CPR 1370–4, p. 116; Register of Archbishop Sudbury, fol. 78r.

86

J. S. Bothwell

had, as noted above, been accused of harbouring Maltravers during his brief stay in England in the 1330s, and was the individual charged with negotiating with him thereafter. Similarly, in 1334, Maurice Berkeley was granted all Maltravers’ estate in England of the inheritance of John Giffard of Brimsfield, which he had been granted in 1329,47 and in 1335, granted all the goods which ‘should belong to the king as escheats by the forfeiture of John Mautravers the younger, and have not yet been answered to him’.48 In the late 1340s, John Maltravers, junior, the couple’s only son, claimed an interest in the Berkeley estate at King Stanley and Rockhampton, petitioning the king concerning the wardship of the heir of Maurice Berkeley49 – and again, notably, the Berkeleys were still in business contact with Maltravers the elder after his return to favour, with manors of Rockhampton, Stoke Giffard and Walles all being regranted to Maltravers, with remainders to the sons of Maurice Berkeley.50 This, and the fact that Edward III continued to patronize the couple’s son and allowed him to act as a landowner despite his father’s condemnation and exile, as well as making grants of his estate to his son’s widow and both John senior’s brother and brother-in-law, shows that Maltravers was not that out of favour with the king, especially by the time his good service on the Continent had started to pay off in the early 1340s.51 Finally, over all this, the fact that Agnes’s relationship with the queen, and even the king, remained intact throughout this period – as witness the petitions in her favour granted throughout the 1330s and 1340s – doubtless helped to keep this unofficial property trust functioning and healthy. Rather, Edward III was, in many ways, the least of Maltravers’ worries for most of his period of exile – far more pressing were the schemings of his fellow landowners. Over some properties, of course, he had little chance of retaining control, especially those granted him during the Minority. Instead they became a tenurial football for others to battle over after he forfeited – for instance, the Talbots and Wilingtons over the Giffard estate, originally granted to Maltravers in 1327, and part of the lands later granted to his long-time associate Maurice Berkeley.52 Other properties, however, were protected through a series of obstructive ‘stalling’ moves in defence of Maltravers’ lands and reputation, mainly carried out by Agnes. Three cases in particular were prominent during this period, all of which would come to the King’s Bench – and all of which were united by Agnes’ determination to keep a firm hold of charters, deeds and other records connected with her husband’s lands. For instance, in the King’s Bench rolls for Easter of 1333,53 Richard Grey of Condor claimed the manor of Overstone (Northants.),54 which he argued had been held by his grandfather but which the latter had demised for a term of life to Gilbert de Millers, with return to his grandfather and his heirs. However, at some point during the 1320s control of the property had been diverted, perhaps through the hands of 47 48 49 50 51

CPR 1334–8, p. 42; CFR 1327–37, p. 423. Expanded in 1339 and 1340. CPR 1338–40, pp. 400, 446. CPR 1334–8, p. 78. CPR 1348–50, p. 240. C 260/91/36; for earlier links to the Berkeleys, see n. 38 above. CFR 1337–47, p. 353; CChR 1341–1417, p. 70; E 401/376 (20 May 1344); CFR 1347–56, pp. 169, 214; CCR 1349–54, p. 323; CPR 1350–4, p. 146. 52 CFR 1327–37, p. 65; CChR 1327–41, pp. 116–17; CP 40/341/132(ob); C 44/2/4; C 44/2/13; C 47/10/35; also see Bothwell, Edward III and the English Peerage, pp. 121–2. 53 KB 27/292/60ob. 54 For more about Overstone, see Bothwell, Edward III and the English Peerage, pp. 118, 125–6; SC 8/49/2443.

Agnes Maltravers and her Husband John

87

the Despensers and later Donald de Mar, but ultimately to John Maltravers.55 When the latter forfeited in 1330, the Grey family immediately laid claim to Overstone. However, Agnes refused to give up the documents connected with the manor, and had to be distrained several times to no visible effect – despite repeated orders to the sheriff of Norfolk and Suffolk. When the case resurfaced in the Michaelmas session of the King’s Bench of 1334,56 there was still no movement, and another royal order went out to distrain her throughout all the lands and have her in the court’s presence as soon as possible. When the case next appears, it is in the Rolls of Parliament, when Grey – finally fed up, it seems, with writs, court cases, and even previous parliamentary appearances – petitioned the king and council to force Agnes to show up, in person, with any relevant documents.57 This stalling strategy cannot be viewed as a one-off, as it was to appear again and again, with Agnes always very reluctant to give up documents – more than likely, it can be argued, lest it threaten her husband’s gradual economic and political resurrection. For instance, there was the case of lands in Barkham (Berks.), which Agnes de Neville claimed had been hers since 1329 through right of her grandmother, and from which she had been ousted by John Maltravers and Philip and Henry le Botiller before the Nottingham Coup.58 The property was then granted for five years to one Robert de Bullok, father of Gilbert de Bullok, a man Agnes de Neville was to marry.59 In this case, again running though the mid 1330s, and again in which the king appeared interested, Agnes was continually pressured to offer up associated documents60 – though when she did finally show up in person concerning the matter, in July of 1334, she, through her attorney, claimed in examination in front of the king’s council that she had no materials relating to the case.61 Finally, towards the end of 1334, Agnes de Neville’s claim to Barkham was accepted by the king’s justice, but only after five years of legal wrangling, mostly with Agnes Maltravers and mainly connected with the issue of access to records under her control.62 Agnes was constantly ‘running interference’ in defence of her husband’s position like this – while at the same time, of course, trying to maintain her own dower rights. In another case, in the Michaelmas term of the King’s Bench of 1333, Agnes was again ordered to be distrained throughout all her lands, and brought before the king with any documents connected with the aforementioned estate of John Giffard63 – which had been granted to John Maltravers ‘for services to the king’s mother’, was forfeited, and was claimed by Roger Bavent and his associates, among many other parties.64 The case rumbled on over the mid 1330s without Agnes either

55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

63 64

CPR 1327–30, p. 101; CFR 1327–37, p. 65. KB 27/298/32ob. RP, III, p. 88a. KB 27/286/107. She also started a case in the Court of Common Pleas against, among others, Henry le Botiller, for breaking her close and trees at Barkham: CP 40/284/95. CFR 1327–37, pp. 233, 287, 483; KB 27/366/73. KB 27/294/22; KB 27/297/66ob. CCR 1333–7, p. 233. CCR 1333–7, pp. 630–1. However, the case was not over. Probably in connection with his other restitutions in the 1350s, Agnes de Neville also caused problems over Barkham for Maltravers: KB 27/366/73. An old business associate of Maltravers. CCR 1318–23, p. 483. KB 27/290/79; also see Complete Peerage, V, 648. For others claiming the Giffard estate, see p. 86.

88

J. S. Bothwell

showing up at the King’s Bench or producing the goods.65 Rather, most likely in collusion with Maltravers, Agnes protected her husband’s gradual fight back into the king’s favour and the English political world by withholding potentially incriminating documents from various ongoing court cases – as the wife of a condemned man who also happened to be in exile, this would have been one of the few tactics left open to her. She even thought it wise to try to protect her husband’s time as royal officer from external scrutiny by keeping firm control of his administrative records. For instance, in March 1336, the treasurer and barons of the Exchequer were ordered to get Agnes to free up records of the time when her husband was Justice of the Forest South of the Trent – which she was clearly unwilling, despite continual royal orders, to do.66 By the mid 1340s, John Maltravers felt secure enough to cease having his wife run such holding actions for him. Nonetheless, though Maltravers’ position as king’s servant abroad was becoming more accepted, especially with his continual royal service on various foreign commissions and embassies (including as negotiator with Jacob Van Arteveldt), while the judgements of 1330 stood, his position, if he returned to England, would still be very uncomfortable. Even when Maltravers submitted, somewhat forlornly (‘is depressed in many ways and can no longer stay there [in Flanders] without great peril’), to Edward III in Flanders in 1345,67 though he was partially forgiven, it was only so far as to receive permission to petition parliament for restoration of his estate – something which would prove a long, fraught process going on into the next decade,68 and would entail further evidence of good, and increasingly weighty, service closer to home.69 Thus, it is unsurprising that, three years later, in 1348, when grants were made to the couple of her husband’s old lands, they were still being made to Agnes rather than John, to hold for her life. In addition, in this case, if Agnes ‘died in the lifetime of her husband, the premises shall remain to Edmund de Bereford [Agnes’ brother], Philip de Weston and Nicholas Pynnok [one of her lawyers], clerks, to hold for the life of the said John without rendering anything to the king, with reversion to the king on the death of the longer lived of the same Agnes and John’ – in other words still not being directly returned to John.70 By June 1351, John Maltravers’ properties, both those held of the king and other lords, were ordered to be returned in full in parliament, and his position effectively restored.71 After the couple were reunited, however, they continued to work to rebuild Maltravers’ fortunes, and it was notable how often John now brought his 65 KB 27/296/128ob; KB 27/299/8; KB 27/308/2/3; KB 27/310/2/3. Though Bavent paid the arrears of

66

67 68 69

70 71

the farm of the manor of Brimsfield in 1334, which was notably then assigned to William Montagu: E 401/315 (28 February 1334). Heirs of Giffard also went after Maltravers upon his return to England: C 44/2/13. CCR 1333–7, p. 558. Maltravers had a history of questionable administrative practices, as can be seen from the claims against him by Richard Calware over issues from the royal stannary in Devon: CPR 1330–4, p. 376. CPR 1343–5, pp. 535, 541–2; CPR 1345–8, p. 448. Though he was allowed increasing power, and more lands, on the Continent: CPR 1345–8, pp. 565, 566. CPR 1348–50, pp. 115, 299, 492; E 401/397(23 July 1349); E 401/401 (10 April 1350). According to Knighton, Maltravers took some part in the events of 1346: G. H. Martin, ed. and trans., Knighton’s Chronicle 1337–1396 (Oxford, 1995), p. 59. CPR 1348–50, p. 134. CPR 1350–4, pp. 110, 224; CCR 1349–54, pp. 312–13.

Agnes Maltravers and her Husband John

89

wife in on the act. Clearly, then, though they were rarely together over the twenty-one years from 1330 to 1351, Agnes had nonetheless played a crucial part in her husband’s life in this period, far more than she had for her previous two spouses – and this was set to continue for the rest of their time together as man and wife. Soon after his restitution, the couple were sold lands on the Isle of Guernsey by Geoffrey de Thoresby,72 and in October of 1352, Maltravers arranged to have the manor of Sherrington (Wilts.), settled on himself and Agnes in jointure, and their heirs male, and then entailed to members of the Maltravers and Beresford lines – a wise move considering it had once been held by the earl of Winchester, and the Despenser family were again in favour with the king.73 In 1354, Agnes inherited a third of her brother Edmund’s estate,74 and in the late 1350s John and Agnes, with the help of Richard, earl of Arundel,75 had entailed a number of lands, including several manors in Dorset and Wiltshire, with remainder to the son of the earl of Arundel, their granddaughter and her heirs (John Maltravers, junior, had predeceased the couple in 1349, thereby foiling any plans for a dynasty).76 John, then, had clearly realized that a woman who had been able to function as well as Agnes had under such difficult circumstances, and for such a long time, was well worth bringing more fully into his affairs. Even after John’s death in 1364 and the assignment of her dower,77 Agnes retained the tough independent streak which had seen her through the 1330s and 1340s.78 In May of 1365, less than a year after the death of her third husband, there is evidence that she was planning to sue in the court of Ireland ‘at her peril’ (from the king’s licence to do so) over the manor of Rathgel. Rathgel had been held by her husband, but there arose a question during his lifetime over whether he held it in chief from the king or of the countess of Desmond’s manor of Askeaton. As a result, the manor became a source of lawsuits, first for John,79 then for Agnes as his widow.80 Even in 1368, when she was in her late sixties, Agnes was still pursuing her dower rights in the manor of Barkham against Thomas and Agnes Ganefeld.81 And she was not left in any real peace well into the next decade, as in 1371 she petitioned the king to be forgiven making any further provision in Dorset for the defence of the realm. Agnes was especially concerned that the sheriff and his troops would be staying with her in her household, and that she was also to be made to 72 CPR 1350–4, p. 123. 73 C 143/310/15; SC 8/17/842. 74 CIPM, X, pp. 211–13, though she would run into problems with these estates as well. CPR 1358–61,

pp. 582, 585–6; CPR 1361–4, pp. 71, 152–3.

75 Other evidence of connections between the couple and the earl in this period: CCR 1354–60, pp.

76 77 78

79 80 81

545–6, 611, 616–17. Some of this relationship was financial rather than, strictly speaking, patronage. For example, see CCR 1354–60, pp. 614, 629. CPR 1354–8, p. 595. CCR 1364–8, pp. 8–9. For widowhood in the Middle Ages, see Archer, ‘Rich Old Ladies’, pp. 17–35; Ward, English Noblewomen, chapter 2; J. T. Rosenthal, ‘Fifteenth-Century Widows and Widowhood: Bereavement, Reintegration and Life Choices’, in Wife and Widow in Medieval England, ed. S. Walker (Ann Arbor, 1993), pp. 33–58; a useful overview on medieval women’s position is offered in J. S. Loengard, ‘ “Legal History and the Medieval Englishwoman” Revisited: Some New Directions’, in Medieval Women and the Sources of Medieval History, ed. J. T. Rosenthal (Athens, Georgia, 1990), pp. 210–36. C 47/10/23/1. C 44/3/28; C 47/10/23/10; CCR 1364–8, pp. 154–5, 180–1; CPR 1367–70, pp. 59–60; CCR 1369–74, pp. 231, 411; CPR 1374–7, pp. 59–60. Berkshire Record Office, D/EX 1211/43/1: transcript of CP 40/430/322ob.

90

J. S. Bothwell

move the same household to her Dorset lands for defence purposes – demurring on these issues partly because she believed she had already made substantial provision for her estate’s defence against French raiding, but also because ‘of her great age, owing to which she may not suddenly depart thither without great peril to her body’.82 Some of the last information we have of her actions, however, is of a more conventional kind, being the arrangement for divine service to be said by three priests in the church of Lytchett Maltravers.83 Nonetheless, it is notable that, in her will (drawn up in February 1375), Agnes continued to show the independence of mind which had marked most of her life, ordering that she be buried by John Maltravers at Lytchett Maltravers if she died in Wiltshire or Dorset, but if she died in East Anglia, she was to be interred not on the lands inherited from her brother or father, but in Wymondley Priory84 – at the centre of an estate which she had gained control of some half century before, during her marriages to Argentein and Nerford. Agnes, then, was one of those many noblewomen in the Middle Ages who, like it or not, were forced into the role of ‘survivor’ as a result of political miscalculations of their menfolk. It must be noted that the loss, in one way or another, of three husbands over the course of her life, while not overly remarkable for the period, could not but have had an impact on the way she conducted herself in her later years. But it was the period of almost two decades when she was separated from her third husband, John Maltravers, which really stands out. Indeed, her strength in face of the hardships entailed in being the wife of a noble exile in this period is remarkable – especially when the reason for the exile involved implication in the death of two members of the royal family, one of them the king. Her resilience is also outstanding when one thinks of the period of time over which she had to exercise it – there are very few other cases of noblewomen in such a position having to wait so long to see their husbands’ fate decided. But perhaps even more amazing is the fact that, when John did finally make it back into the king’s favour in the late 1340s, he and his wife appeared to resume their lives with little recorded reaction to the rather long intervening period, and continued to live as man and wife until his death in 1364. Whether this was a case of love, of practicality or perhaps a mixture of both, the partially postponed married life of Agnes and John appears to have been seamlessly resumed upon his return from the Continent in the early 1350s – though, it has to be said, Agnes was perhaps a woman more independent and sure of herself than the newish bride she had been twenty years before.

82 CCR 1369–74, p. 215. 83 CPR 1370–4, pp. 116, 448. 84 Lambeth Palace Library, Register of Archbishop Sudbury, fol. 78r.

Agnes Maltravers and her Husband John

91

APPENDIX. Copy of the Testament of Agnes Maltravers85 (Lambeth Palace Library, Register of Archbishop Sudbury, fols 78r–79r) In the name of God, amen. I Agnes Mautravers make my testament at London in the parish of Saint John Zachary, Sunday, the eighteenth day of February the year of the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ 1374. Firstly, I give my soul to God and my body to earth to be interred in the Church of Our Lady of Lytchett Mautravers next to the body of my husband if I die in the counties of Dorset or Wiltshire, and if I die in the counties of Hertfordshire or Cambridge or another place in these parts I desire my body to be buried in the Priory of Wymondley, and if I die in another county I desire my body to be interred at the nearest house of friars. Again, I desire that I should be buried immediately without any manner of pageantry but from priests to chant masses for my soul, and that each priest that says masses for my soul should be rewarded according to the discretion of my executors, and they should make division to the poor as seem fit to my executors, and that no manner of finery of gold cloth should be put on my body except five candles, each candle of five pounds of wax, and that the said candles remain in peace in the church where I have been interred. Again, I give to the maintenance of the Cathedral Church of Salisbury twenty shillings, and to the two orders of mendicant friars there from each house, twenty shillings. Again, I give to the church where I am interred, forty shillings. Again, I give to the maintenance of Church of Lytchett where my husband lies, forty shillings. Again, I give to the maintenance of the said Church of Lytchett, twenty shillings, and to each other church of my patronage, twenty shillings, which should be put to the profit of the said churches. Again, I give to the maintenance of the Chapel of Newmarket, twenty shillings. Again, the maintenance of the Hospital of Saint John and James in Royston, forty shillings, and which are put to profit. Again, I give to the maintenance of the priory of Wymondley, 100 shillings, and to the chancel of the parish church near to that manor there, forty shillings. And I give to the Carmelite brothers of Hitchin, twenty shillings. Again, I give to the Friars Minor of Dorchester, twenty shillings. Again, I give to each house of mendicant friars of Oxford, twenty shillings. Again, I give to the Friars Preacher of Gloucester, twenty shillings, and to the Minorites and Carmelites there from each house, twenty shillings. Again, I give to each house of the four mendicant orders at Bristol, twenty shillings. Again, I give to each house of the four orders of mendicant friars of London, twenty shillings, and to the Friars of the Cross there twenty shillings. Again, I give to the four mendicant orders at Winchester from each house, twenty shillings, and that all the aforesaid orders pray for my soul. Again, I give to Brother John Shrynenham, twenty shillings. Again, I give to the earl of Arundel a tablet of silver and gold with an enamelled image asking that, if it be pleasing to him, to aid my executors to perform the will of my dear husband, whom God absolve, and the same touching the chantries of Lytchett and my other works. Again, I give to Lady Eleanor Arundel, wife of Sir John Arundel, a gold clasp set with a shield of emeralds. Again, I give to John, my son, a curtain of green powdered with dolphins and swans with four side pieces of ‘La Sute’ and my great silver cup with the lid and a 85 There is a partial translation of this will in Testamenta Vestusta, ed. N. H. Nicolas (London, 1826), I,

pp. 91–2.

92

J. S. Bothwell

dragenall and six spoons with six pottengers and six silver plates and two silver pitchers, some flasks, and after his death they are to remain to the Priory of Wymondley. Again, I give to John my said son all the ploughs with the beasts of the Carmelites which appertain with all the harness together with the carts and carthorses with all the harness from Wymondley and from Melbourn, and to charge him, for my good, not to make any problems for my executors for making profit for my sake from all my other goods. Again, I grant to Lady Margaret, wife of John, my son, a spice table with the handle which is in a chest from Wymondley and twelve marks. Again, I give to Sir John FitzWaryn one gold clasp and one silver cup with a base shaped like a leopard’s foot, and to Lady Maud, his wife, my daughter, I give my great primer and, after her, the next nearest of our blood from heir to heir each after the other. Again, I give to Sir Baldwin Saint George one gold ring and to Lady Elizabeth Saint George, his wife, my daughter, one counterpane of yellow sandal with the striped curtain from Eyllesham with four yellow carpets and to her children, ten marks. Again, I give to Payn de Mohun one gold clasp and four half ‘compas’. Again, I give to William Ellefeld my nephew, 100 shillings. Again, I give to Sir Robert Sambone one ‘noys’ decorated with silver and gold. Again, I give to Sir Richard Oweyn one silver cup with a lid. Again, I give to Roger Mautravers one bedspread of popinjays with the canopy of ‘La Sute’, one mattress, one pair of lintels of three leaves and one canvas, one cloth of silver, two guilders of silver. Again, I give to Richard Marlebergh one bedspread with one ‘frette’ and white roses with four carpets of ‘La Sute’, one mattress, one canopy, one pair of lintels, one piece of silver, six guilders of silver. Again, I give to Sir John Chelreye one piece of silver, six guilders of silver, one bedspread with some popinjays and cockerels and roses with four rugs of ‘La Sute’, one pair of lintels of three leaves, one canvas, one mattress, one breviary ‘tenne et note’. Again, I give to each of my two damsels one lined gown and twenty shillings. Again, I give to Dame Clarice Hodham, twenty shillings. Again, I give to each valet of menial office twenty shillings. Again, to William Good and to Jack of the Chamber, to each twenty shillings. Again, I grant, through all my manors, that all the most poor of my cottagers are rewarded according to the discretion of my executors. And to each of my executors who undertakes the administration and the charge and the work of performing my testament, I give 100 shillings. And after my debts, those of my husband and ancestors, are paid and my testament performed, I give the residue of all my goods and houses to my executors immediately to arrange chantry masses for my soul. And to perform this testament well and loyally I make my executors Sir John FitzWaryn, knight, Richard Marlebergh, Roger Mautravers, Sir John Chelreye.

Gendering Pastoral Care

GENDERING PASTORAL CARE: JOHN MIRK AND HIS INSTRUCTIONS FOR PARISH PRIESTS Beth Allison Barr In some respects, as in ecclesiastical politics, for instance, the fourteenth century, when viewed as the outcome of the thirteenth century, may seem disappointing, something of a misfit or an anticlimax. … But in the realm of religious literature we can see, in the clearest and most satisfactory way, the achievement of the fourteenth century as the logical outcome of forces at work in the thirteenth century and earlier. William Pantin made this observation in his 1955 survey of the fourteenth-century English church.1 In short, he had recognized a critical point: that – despite the inadequacies of the Avignon Papacy, the chaos of the Great Schism, and the heresy of John Wycliff – the church reforms of the thirteenth century had not been in vain. They had provided the impetus for the didactic pastoral manuals of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. By including such basic tenets as the Ten Commandments, Articles of Faith, Works of Mercy, Seven Vices and Virtues, and Seven Sacraments, these texts fulfilled the spirit of the thirteenth-century reforms by creating a foundation for a more learned clergy. Moreover, by elucidating the quotidinal duties of pastoral care, pastoral manuals also shed light on another critical issue stressed by the reforms: that pastoral care was a gendered affair. Omnis utriusque sexus, one of the most famous decrees of the 1215 Fourth Lateran Council, required all Christians of proper age to make confession and take communion at least once a year, thereby emphasizing that both men and women needed pastoral attentions.2 Although this might seem an obvious assumption, the implications of the decree were profound. Ordinary parish priests were required to care for the souls of women as well as the souls of men. Yet, because women and men had different pastoral needs (or at least were perceived as having different pastoral needs), they required different pastoral care.3 Hence, the challenge for priests with cura animarum was not only to provide proper pastoral care, but to make that pastoral care gender appropriate. By emphasizing that both male and female parishioners needed pastoral care, and 1 2 3

W. A. Pantin, The English Church in the Fourteenth Century (Cambridge, 1955), p. 189. J. Shinners and W. J. Dohar contain a translation of this decree with their sourcebook, Pastors and the Care of Souls in Medieval England (Notre Dame, 1998), pp. 169–70. For better or for worse, medieval women were perceived as quite different from men – especially in regards to their temperaments and sexuality. Of course, in many ways, women were different from men, as they required special care for pregnancy and childbirth and also had different needs in their roles as wives and mothers. For more about how priests perceived female parishioners, see my dissertation ‘Gendered Lessons: The Pastoral Care of Women in Late Medieval England’ (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 2004), especially chapter 4, ‘Pastoral Perceptions’, pp. 140–205.

94

Beth Allison Barr

by tailoring advice to suit their different needs, John Mirk’s late fourteenth-century Instructions for Parish Priests attempts to do exactly this. Yet, even within its model of gender-attentive concern, Instructions portrays women in a more limited fashion than their male counterparts and as more problematic penitents than men. Thus, when John Mirk pleaded for fellow clerics to ‘read’ Instructions ‘often’ and to share it with others, he was fulfilling the thirteenth-century reforms by improving the pastoral training of his fellow brethren and by encouraging them to care for men and women alike.4 At the same time, Mirk’s gendered lessons presented a skewed picture of female parishioners which might have hampered his efforts to provide all parishioners with quality pastoral care.5 An Augustinian prior from Lilleshall Abbey in Shropshire, Mirk was literate, educated, and concerned about helping less fortunate priests.6 Living in the aftermath of the Great Plague, he seems to have worried that many priests with cura animarum lacked basic pastoral skills.7 To help these ‘not great’ priests of ‘mean 4

5

6

7

John Mirk’s Instructions for Parish Priests, ed. G. Kristensson, Lund Series in English 49 (Lund, 1974), pp. 174–5. I quote almost exclusively from BL MS Cotton Claudius A II, as it is considered the ‘best’ manuscript. It is also the main text used by Kristensson, although he includes variant readings from five of the other Instructions manuscripts with the main text. I also include quotes from BL MS Royal 17 C XVII, which – due to its significant differences from the other six manuscripts – Kristensson printed separately. For more information regarding the manuscripts, see: John Mirk’s Instructions for Parish Priests, ed. Kristensson, pp. 9–27, 57–62; pp. 67–176 for BL MS Cotton Claudius A II; and pp. 177–224 for BL MS Royal 17 C XVII. The idea that misogynist perceptions of priests could have translated into shoddy pastoral care for female parishioners is not a new suggestion. Jacqueline Murray, for example, has argued that an androcentric construction of sin in Latin pastoral manuals and a misogynist portrayal of women in medieval theology could have alienated priests from the women they served. She has written that ‘a harsh and critical attitude towards female penitents which was more systemic and misogynistic’, could have resulted in poor pastoral guidance for women. ‘The Absent Penitent: The Cure of Women’s Souls and Confessors’ Manuals in Thirteenth-Century England,’ in Women, the Book, and the Godly: Selected Proceedings from the St. Hilda’s Conference 1993, ed. L. Smith and J. H. M. Taylor (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 79–94; ‘Gendered Souls in Sexed Bodies: The Male Construction of Female Sexuality in Some Medieval Confessor’s Manuals’, in Handling Sin: Confession in the Middle Ages, ed. P. Biller and A .J. Minnis (York, 1998), pp. 13–26. However, the idea that priests (despite their shortcomings) were actively concerned about caring for female parishioners has received considerably less attention. For scholarship on pastoral care, issues related to pastoral care, and the pastoral care of women, see: L. E. Boyle, ‘The Oculus Sacerdotis and Some Other Works of William of Pagula’, in his Pastoral Care, Clerical Education, and Canon Law, 1200–1400 (London, 1981), pp. 81–110; M. Braswell, The Medieval Sinner: Characterization and Confession in the Literature of the English Middle Ages (Toronto, 1983); L. Carruthers, ‘No Woman of No Clerk is Preysed: Attitudes to Women in Medieval English Literature’, in A Wyf There Was, ed. J. Dor (Liège, 1992), pp. 49–60; S. Farmer, ‘Persuasive Voices: Clerical Images of Medieval Wives’, Speculum 61 (1986), pp. 517–43; and ‘ “It is not Good that [Wo]man Should be Alone’: Elite Responses to Singlewomen in High Medieval Paris’, in Singlewomen in the European Past, 1250–1800, ed. J. M. Bennett and A. M. Froide (Philadelphia, 1999), pp. 82–105; M. Haren, Sin and Society in Fourteenth-Century England: A Study of the Memoriale Presibiterorum (Oxford, 2000); R. M. Karras, ‘Gendered Sin and Misogyny in John of Bromyard’s Summa Predicantium’, Traditio 47 (1992), pp. 233–57; A. E. Nichols, ‘The Etiquette of Pre-Reformation Confession in East Anglia’, Sixteenth Century Journal 17 (1986), pp. 145–63; E. A. Petroff, ‘Male Confessors and Female Penitents: Possibilities for Dialogue’, in her Body and Soul: Essays on Medieval Women and Mysticism (London, 1994), pp. 139–60. Mirk probably began his clerical career as a vicar for the church of St Alkmund in Shropshire – thus his interest in pastoral care. Alan Fletcher has written that the Festial prologue ‘could well imply that Mirk had had cure of souls’: A. J. Fletcher, ‘John Mirk and the Lollards’, Medium Aevum 56 (1987), pp. 221 and 223, n. 23. This was a legitimate concern, considering the ad hoc nature of pastoral training in late medieval

Gendering Pastoral Care

95

lore’ who lacked ‘books of their own’, Mirk authored his influential and practical vernacular pastoral guide: Instructions for Parish Priests. Wherefore you parish priest, [That desire] to please your savior, If you be not great clerk, Look you must on this work; For here you might find and read … How you shall your parishioners preach, And what you need them to teach, And which you must yourself be, Here also you might it see; For little is worth your preaching, If you be of evil living.8 Its approximately 1,900 lines were directed toward humble clerics and outlined the basics for attending to the spiritual needs of parishioners: instructions for baptism, marriage, confession; copies of the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed, the doctrine of the Trinity, and the Seven Sacraments; questions for confession; and guides for prescribing penance. Although the seven surviving manuscripts date from the fifteenth century, Instructions clearly is a product of the fourteenth century.9 First, the little we know of John Mirk establishes him as a clergyman living in fourteenth-century England. The colophon from Instructions states that he was a canon-regular of Lilleshall Abby, Shropshire, while his Latin Manuale Sacerdotis identifies him as having become a prior.10 Consequently Instructions, when Mirk was a canon-regular, would have been written before Manuale, when Mirk was a prior. Since Manuale Sacerdotis has been dated (at the latest) to 1414, Instructions must have been written enough before that date to have given Mirk time to climb from canon to prior. Second, Mirk’s frequent attacks within Festial (his popular vernacular sermon compilation) and Manuale Sacerdotis on Lollardy, a heresy proliferating throughout the central and west midlands during the last two decades of the fourteenth century, suggest that these orthodox texts could have been written specifically to combat Lollardy. Susan Powell explains the significance of this: ‘Both the Festial and the England. With no regulated system of clerical education existing, would-be priests had to glean necessary skills and knowledge from a variety of sources, including local schools, universities, mentoring from other clerics, and pastoral literature. For further information, see: J. A. H. Moran, ‘Clerical Recruitment in the Diocese of York, 1340–1350: Data and Commentary’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History 34 (1983), pp. 19–54; W. J. Dohar, The Black Death and Pastoral Leadership: The Diocese of Hereford in the Fourteenth Century (Philadelphia, 1995); R. N. Swanson, ‘Universities, Graduates, and Benefices in Later Medieval England’, Past and Present 106 (1985), pp. 28–61; W. J. Courtenay, ‘The Effect of the Black Death on English Higher Education’, Speculum 55 (1980), pp. 696–71. 8 Instructions for Parish Priests, ed. Kristensson, pp. 68, 175, and 67–8. In translating, I simply modernized the language and did not rephrase the texts in modern word order. 9 The seven manuscripts are: BL MS Cotton Claudius A II; London, BL MS Royal 17 C XVII; Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Tanner 196; Cambridge University Library MS Ff.5.48; Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Greaves 57; and Oxford, Bodleian Library MSS Douce 60 and 103. 10 ‘Explicit tractatus qui dicitur pars oculi, de latino in anglicum translatus per fratrem Iohannem myrcus, canonicum regularem monasterii de Lylleshul, cuius anime propicietur dues! Amen’, BL MS Cotton Claudius A II, fol. 154v; ‘… secundum Johannem Marcus, priorem abathie de Lilysehl’, Bodl. MS 632, fol. 68.

96

Beth Allison Barr

Manuale contain hostile references to Lollardy, which emerged in Mirk’s vicinity in the early 1380s. It may be that the Instructions, which does not mention the Lollard threat, was written earlier and that it was frequently issued together with the Festial in order to provide a comprehensive pastoral programme for the unlettered parish priest.’11 Thus Instructions is likely to predate Mirk’s Festial and Manuale as well as his concern for the growing Lollard threat of the 1380s and 90s. Third, the earliest Instructions manuscript, London, British Library MS Royal 17 C XVII, has been dated to the first quarter of the fifteenth century. Because this manuscript belongs to a second recension that contains ‘errors’ not found in the first recension, it suggests that the original must have been created well enough before MS Royal 17 C XVII in order to have produced two recensions by the time MS Royal 17 C XVII was copied.12 The significance of Instructions originating in the fourteenth century lies not so much in the date itself but in the genre of fourteenth-century literature to which Instructions belongs: pastoral manuals directly inspired by the thirteenth-century reforms.13 The Instructions colophon makes it clear that Mirk’s pastoral guide belongs to this group, stating that Instructions was translated from one of the most well-known of these fourteenth-century manuals: William of Pagula’s Oculus Sacerdotis. Written in the 1320s, Oculus Sacerdotis draws heavily from the ‘pastoral legislation of the 13th century bishops and follow[s] closely but not exactly Pecham’s Constitutions in their prescription of the material for lay instruction – the Articles of the Faith, the Sacraments, the Works of Mercy, the Virtues and Vices, the Commandments’.14 An examination of the text of Instructions suggests it is indeed a translation of Oculus Sacerdotis, albeit a loose translation.15 William of Pagula, for example, described in Oculus Sacerdotis why it was so important that parish priests be properly educated: For parish priests to rule well in this regard they should be discerning, knowing how to bind and loose sins, lest, out of ignorance, the blind take it upon themselves to lead others and they both fall into the pit. Hence the verse: ‘If a blind man guide a blind man … [Matt. 15:14].’ First the leader falls into the pit and then the follower. Their eyes are so covered in sin so that they are 11

12 13

14 15

Susan Powell, ‘Mirk, John (fl. c.1382–c.1414)’, ODNB. For further information about Mirk and his manuscripts, see: John Mirk’s Instructions for Parish Priests, ed. Kristensson; Mirk’s Festial: A Collection of Homilies by Johannes Mirkus, ed. T. Erbe, EETS OS 96 (London, 1905); S. Powell, ‘John Mirk’s Festial and the Pastoral Programme’, Leeds Studies in English 22 (1991), pp. 85–102; S. Powell, The Advent and Nativity Sermons from a Fifteenth-Century Revision of John Mirk’s Festial, Middle English Texts 13 (1981); A. J. Fletcher, ‘John Mirk and the Lollards’, Medium Aevum 56 (1987), pp. 217–24; M .F. Wakelin, ‘The Manuscripts of John Mirk’s Festial’, Leeds Studies in English 1 (1967), pp. 93–118; A. J. Fletcher, ‘Unnoticed Sermons from John Mirk’s Festial’, Speculum 55 (1980), pp. 514–22. Instructions for Parish Priests, ed. Kristensson, pp. 15–16, 58–60. ‘By the end of the twelfth century, theologians, canonists, and pastoralists were churning out all kinds of treatises, brief or rambling, meant to help ordinary priests cope with the new demands placed on them in promoting the Christian life in general and administering penance in particular. The pastoral reforms enacted shortly thereafter by Innocent’s Fourth Lateran Council gave even more inspiration to theorists and administrators already trying to prepare priests to carry out the cure of souls as effectively as possible. In England, a great flurry of pastoral manuals began circulating by the midthirteenth century.’ Shinners and Dohar, Pastors and the Care of Souls, p. 122. G. H. Russell, ‘Vernacular Instruction of the Laity in the Later Middle Ages in England: Some Texts and Notes’, The Journal of Religious History 2 (1962), pp. 98–119, at 101–102. Pantin, The English Church, p. 214.

Gendering Pastoral Care

97

blinded, and their backs are always bent. For when the leaders who bear all their sins are blind, those following them are easily led astray.16 Instructions for Parish Priests contains a similar passage. God says himself, as written we find, That when the blind lead the blind Into the ditch they fall both, For they not see where-by to go. So fair priests now by day; They be [so] blind in gods law, That when they should the people read [teach] Into sin they do them lead …17 Mirk’s ‘translation’ truncated the passage from Oculus Sacerdotis and stylistically seems intended for a less scholarly audience. But its purpose remains the same as William of Pagula’s manual: to better educate the clergy so that they could better educate the laity.18 Thus, because of its practical purpose, existence in several manuscripts (indicating it had popular circulation), and its association with the fourteenth-century manuals stemming directly from the thirteenth-century reforms, Instructions for Parish Priests provides a very orthodox window from which to examine how late medieval priests were taught to care for their parishioners. One of the first lessons emphasized in Instructions echoes the concern of Omnis utriusque sexus that both male and female parishioners needed pastoral care. Twice Mirk stressed that priests should impress upon men and women the need for confession. In the introduction, he wrote: Thus you must [often] preach, And your parishioners carefully teach: When one has done a sin, Look he lie not long therein, But anon that he him shrive, Be it husband, be it wife, Lest he forget by lenten day, And out of mind it go away.19 Later, under a section entitled De modo audiendi confessionem, Mirk again accentuated that priests must be prepared to care for male and female penitents. Now I pray you take good heed, for this you must know need, of shrift & penance I will you tell …

16 Shinners and Dohar, Pastors and the Care of Souls, pp. 141–2. 17 Instructions for Parish Priests, ed. Kristensson, pp. 67–8. 18 ‘From the thirteenth century, texts appeared to aid clerics in their tasks as preachers, teachers, confes-

sors, moral overseers, and pastors, with the academics providing for the non-academic … The instructional material aimed at the clergy reflected their role as intermediaries who were to pass on the teaching and inunctions to their parishioners.’ R. N. Swanson, Religion and Devotion in Europe, c.1215–c.1515 (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 59–60. 19 Instructions for Parish Priests, ed. Kristensson, pp. 71–72.

98

Beth Allison Barr For often you must penance give, both to men and to women.

These gender inclusive phrases continue throughout the text, with Mirk recognizing that ‘men & women’ both may be called upon to administer emergency baptisms (in the case of a child near death); that both ‘Godfather and godmother’ should be taught to teach their godchildren the Pater Noster and Creed; and that both a ‘man & woman’ had the ability to commit serious sin (fornication, in this instance). Finally, when instructing parishioners about the sacraments and how to conduct themselves during church services, Mirk employed the gender neutral terms ‘them,’ ‘they,’ and ‘people,’ making it clear that when he ordered priests to ‘Teach your parishioner thus,’ he was indeed referring to all parishioners.20 In addition to including both men and women within his pastoral framework, Mirk also encouraged priests to be attentive to the unique needs of parishioners. For example, he was concerned that a soldier fighting ‘in a battle for his right’ be able to have his confession heard wherever he might be. ‘His shrift also you might hear,/ though he your parishioner never were.’ He also worried that male parishioners neglected their obligations to God by pursuing entertainment and working too hard. Be-think you well, son, I read, Of your sin and your misdeed. For shooting, for wrestling and other play, For going to the ale on holyday, For singing, for roaming about and such fare, That often the soul does great care … For, anon the workday, Men be so busy in each way, That for their occupation, They leave much of their devotion. To remedy this, Mirk specifically urged men to make sure they reserved the ‘holyday’ for God alone. ‘And if they do any other thing/ then serve god by their coming,/ then they break gods law/ and hold not their holyday.’21 Mirk also taught priests to be aware of the unique circumstances of pregnant women and women in labor. Women that be with child also, You must them teach how they shall do, When their time is near to come. Bid them do this all & some: Teach them to come & shrive them clean, And also housel [receive Eucharist] them at once, 20 Ibid., pp. 108, 75, 76, 79, 81–86 and 71. In addition to employing gender neutral terms, Mirk did occa-

sionally use ‘man’ to refer to ‘people’. Standards of the time allowed the Middle English word ‘man’ to function as a generic for ‘people’: Middle English Dictionary, ed. S. M. Kuhn and J. Reidy (Ann Arbor MI, 1975), pp. 107–117. Thus the Middle English word ‘man’ has two meanings: the masculine sex and the indefinite pronoun encompassing ‘one’ to ‘people’. Although Mirk used ‘man’ in both ways throughout Instructions, he frequently chose instead to either direct his language specifically to men and women or to use gender neutral terms. 21 Ibid., pp. 109–11, 119–21.

Gendering Pastoral Care

99

For dread of peril that may be-fall, In their travailing that come shall.22 Fearful that expectant mothers might not survive the birthing process, Mirk wanted to insure their souls were properly shriven – just in case. Similarly, Mirk realized that husbands and wives would have special needs relating to their married state. Married couples, for example, needed to understand that marriage prevented them from making decisions as individuals. To preach them also you might not hesitate, Both to wife and each husband, That neither of them no penance take, Nor no vow to chastity make, Nor no pilgrimage take to do, But if both assent there-to. Because their primary loyalty should be to one another, husbands and wives were not allowed to make spiritual vows without mutual consent. At first, however, it seems Mirk stressed more the duty of wives to their husbands than the other way around. Then shall the husband also quickly Teach & preach so his wife That she vow no manner thing But it be at his knowing; For though she do, it may not stand, But she have granted of her husband; And if the husband assent thereto, Then necessarily it must be done. Yet, he completed this statement by emphasizing the equal duty of husbands: ‘No more shall [the husband] truly,/ but his wife thereto assent.’ The only exception was ‘the vow to Jerusalem’, which, Mirk emphasized, was ‘lawful to either of them’.23 Second, Mirk expressed touching concern that husbands take care of their families. He pointedly queried if a husband had been too self-absorbed and slothful to notice the needs of his wife and family. ‘Have you sluggish and weak been/ To help your wife and your family/ Of such as they had need to?’ He also inquired of husbands if they lived ‘in quarrel & strife/ With your family and with your wife?’ and even provided advice about how priests could avoid (at least some) marital conflict.24 Warning priests of the ‘need to be wise,’ Mirk recommended that: If a wife have done a sin, Such penance you give her then That her husband may not know, Lest for the penance sake Woe & anger between them wake [arise].25

22 23 24 25

Ibid., pp. 71–2. Ibid., pp. 88–9. Ibid., pp. 130, 145. Ibid., pp. 154–5.

100

Beth Allison Barr

Because standard penance was often assigned for certain sins, a husband who discovered the penance of his wife might also discover the sins she had committed. By assigning penance carelessly, then, priests might reveal (albeit inadvertently) private confessions that could instigate discord between husbands and wives. In his attempts to improve the quality of home life for his married parishioners and their families, Mirk’s pastoral advice reveals a rare concern for the well-being of female parishioners. For example, William of Pagula also incorporated advice about pregnant women and married couples within his Oculus Sacerdotis. Like Mirk, he suggested that: Because of the danger of death that threatens when they are giving birth, [pregnant women] should go to confession so that they will be prepared in such an emergency to receive the Eucharist. Unlike Mirk, however, who concluded the section by discussing the duties of the midwife in case of childbirth complications, William of Pagula concluded by stating, ‘it is unseemly for a priest to stay with [pregnant women] too long while they are in labor’. Thus his initial concern for pregnant women changed into concern for how ‘unseemly’ it might look for priests to remain with female parishioners during childbirth. William of Pagula expressed a similar attitude toward the penitential vows made by husbands and wives. Like Mirk, he stated that ‘a husband or wife may not take a vow of chastity or a vow to make a pilgrimage or to fast’ without consent from the other. But, William of Pagula used stronger language than Mirk to stress the subservience of the wife to the husband. [A] man and a woman are not judged according to the same standards. But a husband should be careful that he does not consent to his wife’s vow; in fact he should immediately oppose it if he wishes … a husband does not sin by revoking his wife’s vow because it is within his rights; power over her body rests with him, not her. Additionally, Mirk twice stated the responsibility of both husband and wife to vow ‘no manner of thing’ without the consent of the other. William of Pagula, however, stressed chastity as the only vow husbands should not make without the consent of their wives. ‘For if you abstain from sexual relations with your wife without her consent, you are granting her license to fornicate, and her sin will be blamed on your abstinence.’ Thus, again, William of Pagula’s initial concern for women faded as he emphasized the power of husbands over their sexually frail wives.26 In sum, Instructions for Parish Priests reminds priests of their duties to provide both male and female parishioners with proper pastoral care. It also recognizes the unique needs of pregnant women and married couples, and displays an especially sensitive attitude toward female parishioners. Yet, even within this model of attentive concern, Mirk’s Instructions creates disparity between the sexes by rendering women in more limited ways than their male counterparts and by portraying them as more problematic parishioners. Thus Mirk’s gendered lessons may have hindered as much as they helped priests attempting to provide quality pastoral care to their parishioners. To begin with, Instructions for Parish Priests carefully delineates the different needs of female parishioners. As we have already seen, this was a good thing as it 26 Shinners and Dohar, Pastors and the Care of Souls, pp. 142–50.

Gendering Pastoral Care

101

taught priests to be more sensitive to the predicaments of pregnant women and wives. It was also problematic, however, as Mirk discussed female parishioners in more limited ways than their male counterparts. For example, Mirk mostly abandoned gender inclusive and gender neutral language in the penitential section of Instructions, choosing instead to attend separately to male and female parishioners: ‘For often you must penance give,/ Both to men and to women.’ First he addressed a man, instructing priests to ‘Teach him to kneel down on his knee.’ Then the man was asked if he belonged to the parish in which he was confessing. If he did not belong, he would be asked to leave (presumably to return to his designated parish), except for a few special cases: if he was a pilgrim, a scholar, a wanderer, a passenger, a soldier, a servant, or officer and thus required to travel; if he was near death; if he had committed a sin with his parish priest’s kin, ‘Mother, or sister, or his leman [mistress],/ Or by his daughter if he had one’; if he had been cursed by the priest ‘He must need be absolved of you/ Whoever parishioner ever he be’; or if his parish priest was either a fornicator or had been indiscreet about keeping confessions secret. For these reasons a man could confess to a priest outside of his parish and have his ‘shrift’ heard with ‘mild heart’. Mirk then turned to female parishioners: ‘But when a woman comes to you,/ Look her face that you not see,/ But teach her to kneel down you by.’ Unlike her male counterpart, the woman was not asked personal questions. The section Mirk addressed to her is also shorter than the section addressed to men, and focused only on what the priest should and should not do during confession instead of on the identity of the penitent. For example, by the time the priest was instructed to pull down his hood and hear the male penitent’s confession, he could have known a great deal of personal information about the man – such as the man’s parish residence, his occupation, his family, and even about his sexual conquests. In contrast, the priest was not even supposed to know what the female penitent looked like, as Mirk warned, ‘Look her face that you not see.’27 This limited portrayal of female penitents reflects Mirk’s attitude toward women throughout Instructions. On the one hand, he was very careful to make sure priests understood their pastoral obligations to care for the spiritual needs of women. On the other hand, Mirk envisioned male penitents more frequently and in more multifaceted ways than he did their female counterparts. Despite his notable use of gender inclusive language, for instance, Mirk usually assumed a male penitent when discussing confession and penance. The penitential section including the ten commandments, the seven deadly sins, and the seven venial sins provides a prime example. First, its language suggests it is directed toward men, asking such questions as if the penitent has taken care of ‘your wife & your family’ and if the penitent has ‘touched foully/ that your members were stirred by,/ Woman’s flesh or your own’. Second, the section makes clear the gender of its implied penitent by

27 Instructions for Parish Priests, ed. Kristensson, pp. 108–15. Of course, it is possible that Mirk was

simply avoiding redundancy – i.e. not repeating questions for women that he had already written out for men. Yet, many of the occupations Mirk discussed would only have been associated with men (such as scholar, officer, and soldier); not to mention one of the problems Mirk discussed – the penitent sinning with female relatives of the priest – also would have been associated with men. Moreover, when Mirk did want to avoid redundancy, he usually let the reader know. For example, at the end of the section, ‘Quod si sit femina’, he wrote, ‘Of all points you must know,/ As before I have written’, pp. 141–2.

102

Beth Allison Barr

addressing him as ‘son’ no less than fourteen times.28 Another example can be found in Mirk’s discussion of extreme unction. He called the sick penitent, ‘my brother,’ and used exclusively male pronouns to identify the penitent throughout his instructions to the officiating priest.29 In addition to often assuming a male gender for his penitents, Mirk also wrote about men in more nuanced ways than he did women. For example, he directed specific pastoral advice to men as fathers, ‘Then may the father without blame/ Christen the child and give it name,’ as husbands, ‘Then shall the husband also quickly/ Teach & preach so his wife/ That she vow no manner of thing/ But it be at his knowing,’ as singlemen, ‘That man & woman be single both, as deadly sin they should it loathe,’ as community members, ‘Every man his tithing shall pay/ Both of small and of great,/ Of sheep and swine & other cattle,’ as community leaders, ‘Or if a man … hath an office or baillie/ that he leads his life by,’ as servants, ‘Or if a man be servant,/ In your parish by covenant,’ as workers in a variety of occupations, ‘Men be so busy in each way,/ That for their occupation,/ They leave much of their devotion,’ as participants in recreation, ‘Think you well, son, I read,/ Of your sin and your misdeed./ For shooting, for wrestling & other play,/ For going to the ale on holyday,’ and even as travelers, ‘Or if he had undertake/ Any pilgrimage for to make/ … Of wanderer, of passenger’.30 Thus Mirk recognized men through their family relationships (as fathers, husbands, and singlemen) and through their social and economic identities (as community members, community leaders, servants, workers, recreational participants, and travelers). Women, however, were almost exclusively identified through their family relationships: mostly as wives and mothers, and occasionally as singlewomen and widows. Instructions contains only two exceptions to this – when Mirk discussed the duties of a midwife and when he discussed women religious and prostitutes within the context of sexual sin.31 This pattern of portraying women in a more limited fashion than men continues throughout Instructions, with female penitents even presented as committing a smaller array of sins than male penitents. Questions specifically tailored to male penitents asked if they had been shooting, wrestling, getting drunk on Sunday, behaving rowdily at church, fighting, practicing homosexuality, mistreating their families, forgetting their tithes, stealing, coveting their neighbors’ goods, succumbing to gluttony, and not taking their spiritual duties seriously.32 Yet women were only questioned specifically about heterosexual immorality and perhaps also about their beliefs in holy church.33 Or, at least, this is true for six of the Instructions manuscripts. The seventh manuscript, London, British Library MS Royal 17 C XVII, contains some especially poignant alterations to the penitential section. In six of the seven manuscripts, the 28 Ibid., pp. 118–47, at 130, 143, 119, 121, 124, 127, 128, 136, 138, 140, 142, 144 and 147. The only

exception occurs at pp. 141–2, when Mirk turned briefly to a female penitent, ‘Quod si sit femina’.

29 Ibid., pp. 163–4. 30 Ibid., pp. 75, 89, 87, 112, 120, 119, 110–11. 31 Ibid., pp. 72–4 (midwife), 79 (single), 138–9 (single, widow, anchoress, nun, and prostitute), 141

(prostitute), 148 (single, cloistered), and 149–150 (single, nun, anchoress). Of course, some women were simply referred to as women. 32 Instructions for Parish Priests, pp. 120–3, 130, 138–40, 138, 143–7. 33 Shortly before the section on the basic beliefs of holy church (articles of faith, etc.), Instructions states, ‘Son or daughter, now hear me.’ Thus the section might be intended for both genders, although the primarily male pronouns make it seem to be addressed mostly to men. Instructions for Parish Priests, pp. 115–17.

Gendering Pastoral Care

103

discussion about female penitents concludes after instructing the confessor how to behave around female parishioners. But it concludes with gender confusion; the text moving swiftly from ‘when a woman comes to you,’ to ‘Wherefore, son,’ to ‘Son or daughter, now listen to me.’ Because the section following ‘son or daughter’ relies exclusively on male pronouns and asks a question obviously intended for a male audience – ‘Have you made any sorcery to get women to lie him by?’ – it seems to be mostly addressed to men. A few lines later the text becomes unambiguously directed to men, stating, ‘Be-think you well, son, I read,/ Of your sin and your misdeed.’ In short, six of the seven Instructions manuscripts direct 24 lines of the penitential section, following ‘when a woman comes to you,’ to female penitents, 86 lines perhaps to both genders but mostly toward men, and then with certainty turns to men for the remaining 90 lines of the ten commandments passage.34 The seventh manuscript, British Library MS Royal 17 C XVII, is different. By using exclusively female pronouns and the word daughter, it reorients at least some of the gender-hazy lines of Instructions specifically to female parishioners. Instead of switching to ‘son,’ as do the other manuscripts, MS Royal 17 C XVII states: ‘Daughter, I pray you, now hear me,/ For somewhat I will help you.’ Two more poignant passages illustrate the striking difference between the Royal manuscript and the remaining six. In the first instance, MS Royal 17 C XVII records: Can you your pater noster & your ave And your creed [recite], now tell me.’ If she say she can them not, Take her penance therefore her must. To such penance you her turn [give], That will make her to learn. If she can it in English tongue, To give her penance it were wrong. In contrast, the other manuscripts record: Can you your pater and your ave And your creed, now tell you me.’ If he says he can it not, Take his penance then he must. To such penance then you him turn [give], That will make him it to learn. If he can it in his tongue, To give him penance it is wrong. In a final example, when the other manuscripts ask if the penitent had used sorcery ‘to get women to lie him by,’ the Royal manuscript asks if the penitent ‘made any sorcery/ to get man to lie you by?’35 Clearly MS Royal 17 C XVII assumes a female penitent where the remaining six manuscripts assume a male. 34 Ibid., pp. 108–24. These counts are based on BL MS Cotton Claudius A II. The stop, at the end of the

ten commandments passage, is somewhat artificial. The remainder of the penitential section continues to mostly assume a man (as was discussed on p. 16 and will be discussed again on p. 21), excluding a passage under luxuria titled, ‘Quod si sit femina’, pp. 141–2, and a passage about wives and penance, pp. 154–5. 35 Ibid., pp. 113–15, and 118; 196–7, and 198.

104

Beth Allison Barr

Yet, despite this most intriguing difference, MS Royal 17 C XVII is still quite similar to the other Instructions manuscripts in this regard: it portrays women as committing a smaller array of sins then men. Despite the additional lines directed toward female penitents, the only additional sin clearly directed to female penitents concerns their practice of witchcraft.36 Thus MS Royal 17 C XVII also continues the pattern of Instructions to portray women in more limited ways than their male counterparts. Finally, Mirk rendered women as less active in the medieval economy than men. One penitential section probes the economic honesty of parishioners, querying regraters, brewers, millers, and other types of merchants if they have used false measures or weights. Under a discussion of the deadly sin of avarice, Instructions expands this investigation, asking: ‘Have your workmen anything without/ Of anything that they should have?/ Have you beguiled [deceived] in trade/ Any life less or more?’ A third passage under venial sins moves from discussing commercial larceny to agricultural pilfering, questioning if the penitent’s animals have been allowed to graze in a field without permission of the field’s owner; if the penitent has destroyed the crop of another; if the penitent has stolen ears of corn while walking through a field; and if the penitent has been ‘accustomed over corn to ride,/ When you might have go[ne] beside?’37 Through this questioning, priests would have been able to determine a wide range of economic sins – from penitents who cheated their customers to penitents more inclined to pinch dinner than pay for it. Yet these questions seem to have been intended for male penitents alone. Mirk specifically wrote that men became so wrapped up in their work that they often neglected proper devotion on holy days and Sundays. He also seems to have reserved questions regarding false weights and measures used to cheat customers for men, as he placed them between questions asking, ‘Have you … put away your own wife?/ … if you have shed your own kind,/ Sleeping or waking, night or day,’ and a section concluding with, ‘Have you coveted with all your might/ … your neighbors wife …’38 The passage covering the seven deadly sins also seems directed toward male penitents as it opens ‘Therefore, son, spare you not,’ repeats ‘son’ on several occasions, and relies exclusively on male pronouns. In fact, advice directed toward female penitents appears in Instructions for Parish Priests only two more times: under the sin of luxuria and within a passage about penance.39 Thus it seems that Mary Flowers Braswell’s assessment of Mirk’s men as a ‘noisy, active bunch’ is correct.40 Comparatively, his women were quiet and still. Historical records reveal a contrasting tale. Simply by examining the economic participation of women in late medieval England, we can easily see that women were as multifaceted as men, committed as wide an array of sins as men, and participated in the economy as actively as men. They labored as brewsters, hucksters (retailers), weavers, bakers, tanners, glovers, skinners, traders, dyers, domestic servants, millers, laundresses, shepsters, and, of course, prostitutes.41 Some women

36 37 38 39 40 41

Ibid., p. 198. Ibid., pp. 122, 135–6, 146–7. Ibid., pp. 120–2. Ibid., pp. 124–42, at 124, 127,128, 136, 138, 140, 141, and 154–5. Braswell, The Medieval Sinner, p. 88. For more information about women and work, see: J. M. Bennett, Ale, Beer, and Brewsters: Women’s Work in a Changing World, 1300–1600 (New York, 1996); P. J. P. Goldberg, ‘Women’s Work,

Gendering Pastoral Care

105

gained success in local land markets; some worked only on the side, earning extra money as spinners or brewsters; and some, such as domestic servants, worked full time. Of course, some of these occupations were extensions of household duties, such as brewing, weaving, and baking. But that does not mitigate the importance of women’s social and economic identities created through these jobs nor does it mean that these occupations would not have encountered the same types of moral challenges as men’s occupations. Late medieval court records, for example, reveal both men and women engaged in dishonest practices. The manorial courts of the Priory of Durham fined Agnes Postell and Alice of Belais in 1365 for selling bad ale, and Roger Rogerson complained in 1358 in Bradford that Alice de Bollyng ignored the boundaries between their land, allowing her cows to feed off his corn, rye, oats, and grass, causing damage worth 10s. John Gylessone and Agnes le Ismongere faced charges in a 1348 London court for selling ‘putrid and stinking meant, in deceit, and to the peril of the lives, of persons buying the same’; the same court punished fishwife Margery Hore for selling sole fish ‘stinking and rotten and unwholesome for the use of man’ in 1372; while Alice wife of Robert de Caustone was convicted in 1364 for using fraudulent measures in selling ale.42 Hence, both male and female parishioners could have benefited from spiritual guidance about commercial integrity. Yet, Instructions for Parish Priests seemed to mostly associate these issues with male penitents. Because unconfessed sin could condemn souls to extended stays in purgatory or damn them for eternity, this limited portrayal of women’s culpability could have had serious consequences for female penitents. Pastoral manuals, designed to ferret out all the sins committed by parishioners, worked best when clerics asked specific questions about a variety of issues. As we have seen, however, priests reading Instructions for Parish Priests would not have been adequately trained to ask penitential questions of a wide variety of women, women who committed sins other than sexual immorality, nor working women who lacked commercial integrity. Thus, by presenting a limited view of female parishioners, Instructions might also have limited the opportunities of women to fully confess their sins to priests. Interestingly enough, Mirk seemed to think that this was already a problem – namely, he thought women would experience difficulty in fully confessing their sins to priests. First, he portrayed women as especially sensitive to inattentive and impatient confessors. ‘But when a woman comes to you,’ Instructions records, make sure that you do not upset her by moving around too much, or spitting, or kicking, ‘lest she suppose you make that fuss/ for sorrow that you hear there,/ But sit you still as any maid/ till that she have all said.’ This advice portrays clerical behavior as adversely affecting the confessions of women. To counter the problem, Mirk implored priests to stay quiet and still throughout the confession so as not to scare or upset their female penitents. Second, Mirk portrayed women as especially prone to

Women’s Role, in the Late-Medieval North’, in Profit, Piety and the Professions in Later Medieval England, ed. M. A. Hicks (London, 1990), pp. 34–50; Diane Hutton, ‘Women in Fourteenth-Century Shrewsbury’, in Women and Work in Pre-Industrial England, ed. L. Charles and L. Duffin (London, 1985), pp. 83–99; D. Keene, ‘Tanner’s Widows, 1300–1350’, in Medieval London Widows, ed. C. Barron (Gloucester, 1994), pp. 1–27; M. Kowaleski, ‘Women’s Work in a Market Town: Exeter in the Late Fourteenth Century’, in Women and Work in Preindustrial Europe, ed. B. Hanawalt (Bloomington, 1986), pp. 149–59. 42 E. Amt, Women’s Lives in Medieval Europe: A Sourcebook (New York, 1993), pp. 184–8 and 203–5.

106

Beth Allison Barr

not completing their confessions. ‘And when she stops and says no more,’ he wrote – not if she stops but when she stops.43 Mirk’s unambiguous language suggests that he believed women would be uncomfortable about revealing their sins to priests. Perhaps Mirk thought female penitents were too ashamed to reveal private sins to male confessors; perhaps he thought that women were more sensitive than men; or perhaps (as he had pastoral experience) he had encountered particularly reticent female penitents himself and assumed this was a feminine trait.44 To help priests combat this potentially serious problem, he advised confessors how to loosen the tongues of women: And when she stops & says no more, If you see she needs teaching, Then speak to her in this fashion, And say ‘take you good advice, And what manner thing you are guilty of, Tell me boldly & make no mockery. Tell me your sin, I you pray, And spare you not by no way. Hesitate you not for no shame, [Very probably] I have done the same, And [perhaps] much more, If you knew all my distress’. In short, Mirk’s advice portrays women as challenging penitents: they were especially sensitive to inattentive and impatient confessors and especially prone to not completing their confessions. To help clerics overcome these challenges, he taught priests to be especially careful in how they responded to female penitents and to be especially adept at extracting confessions from unwilling participants. When the difficulties of hearing women’s confessions are combined with the limited scope in which priests were taught to assess women’s culpability, a serious complication emerges. Because Instructions limits the range of penitential questions asked to female penitents and presents women as prone to withholding information from their confessors (thereby requiring extra work from confessors to extract their sins), female parishioners seem to have been especially likely to leave confession with sin still unconfessed.45 Thus, the confessional difficulties associated with 43 Instructions for Parish Priests, ed. Kristensson, pp. 113–14. The Royal manuscript clearly associates

this problem only with female parishioners, pp. 196–7. Mirk did encourage male penitents some during confession, p. 144, but he never assumed men would stop confessing (as he did with women). He also spent less time encouraging men then he did women. 44 Ibid., p. 114. It is interesting that sermon stories (exempla), contained within Mirk’s Festial and other pastoral literature, frequently portray women as experiencing difficulty in confessing their sins to priests. For more discussion of these, see ‘Gendered Lessons’, especially chapter 5, ‘Pastoral Care’, pp. 210–52. 45 According to the medieval church, this was a serious problem because unconfessed sin could condemn souls to purgatory or even hell. An exemplum, or sermon story, from a collection of Middle English sermons contemporary with John Mirk, reveals what happened to a woman who died with unconfessed sin. Her son was a priest of good living, and after the death of his mother, he sang masses and did good deeds for her soul for seven years. One day a huge and horrible shadow appeared to him, and said, ‘I am your mother, and I am perpetually damned.’ The priest, shocked and dismayed by this confession, immediately inquired, ‘Where are all the good deeds that you did in your life, and where is all the rewards of all the masses that I have sung for you and other good deeds that I have done for

Gendering Pastoral Care

107

female parishioners not only complicated pastoral care for priests – requiring them to be more cautious, more attentive, and more diligent – but also placed the souls of women in spiritual jeopardy. A final problem Mirk associated with female penitents stemmed from a cultural stereotype: that women were sexual temptresses, and priests – vowed to celibacy – had to exercise great caution when with them.46 Mirk agreed with this advice. He first warned priests about fraternizing with questionable women. ‘Women’s service you must forsake,/ Of evil fame lest they you make,/ For women’s speech that are shrews,/ Turns often turns away good intentions.’47 He also accentuated the presumed lasciviousness of women by focusing on their sexual sins. As already noted, men committed a variety of sins within Instructions – from stealing, to fornicating, to forsaking the Sabbath. Yet women were almost exclusively associated with sexual sin. For example, out of the 30 times Mirk specifically discussed women within Instructions, 3 of the discussions concerned baptism, 7 concerned husbands and wives and issues of marriage, 3 concerned parenthood, 1 concerned consanguinity, 5 concerned confession and penance, 1 concerned the sinners condemned in the Great Sentence, and 10 concerned sexual sin.48 Moreover, when specifically discussing the seven deadly sins, the only time Mirk directly addressed female penitents was within his discussion of luxuria.49 This is also the only time Mirk discussed women earning money, asking if the sexual sin committed by female penitents was for ‘covetry of gold or silver, or ought of his,’ and if so then the sin was double and required more penance. With a third of his discussions about women focused on lechery, it is not surprising that Mirk’s recognition of working women was of prostitutes. In the end, it seems John Mirk’s Instructions left priests with contradictory advice. On the one hand, it fulfilled the spirit of the thirteenth-century reforms by better educating the clergy so that they could better care both for their male and their female parishioners. On the other hand, because Instructions painted a limited picture of women and presented them as especially problematic penitents, Mirk’s gendered pastoral care constricted female parishioners in ways that it did not constrict their male counterparts. A visual example of this can be found in Mirk’s instructions for confessing penitents. With a man, the priest was to instruct him ‘to kneel down on his knee’ and then (after already speaking with the penitent), ‘over your eyes pull your hood,/ And hear his shrift with mild heart.’ With a woman,

46

47 48

49

you?’ The tormented soul responded that those things he had done would alleviate the souls of many in purgatory, but nothing could help her because she had committed adultery and, ‘for shame I would never shrive me thereof and so suddenly I died without confession. And therefore I am damned without end’: Middle English Sermons, ed. W. O. Ross, EETS OS 96 (London, 1905), pp. 183–4. Alcuin Blamires has summed this up well. ‘Associated, perhaps, with the clerical suspicion of the female body’s power to provoke sexual arousal was a deep-seated male apprehension about, or inferiority complex about, the female capacity for extended sexual activity. Not only did women excite men to sinful thoughts; women were actually held to be more lustful creatures by nature. From here it was a short step to the equation, woman equals lust.’ A. Blamires, Woman Defamed and Woman Defended: An Anthology of Medieval Texts (Oxford, 1992), p. 5. Instructions for Parish Priests, ed. Kristensson, p. 70. Ibid., pp. 71–2, 75, 97; 78, 80, 89, 122, 130, 145, 155; 76, 121, 160; 77; 71, 108, 113, 115, 148; 104–107; 70 (the ‘evil fame’ seems to imply sexual indiscretion), 79–80, 110, 118, 124, 139, 140, 141, 143, and 149–150. Ibid., pp. 142–3.

108

Beth Allison Barr

however, the priest was first to make sure he did not look at her, then to instruct her to kneel down, and finally to make sure he kept his head turned away from her throughout the confession.50 Thus, Mirk’s advice distanced priests from the women they served – perhaps making his gendered care as much a hindrance as it was a help to priests with cure of souls.

50 Ibid., pp. 108–14.

Prosecution of the Statut es of Provisors and Premunire

PROSECUTION OF THE STATUTES OF PROVISORS AND PREMUNIRE IN THE KING’S BENCH, 1377–1394 Diane Martin In the early 1380s William Southam broke the windows, door and gate of Napton church in Warwickshire and assaulted the rector, Richard Tylhe, in order to disinter the body of Joan Radele who was buried within.1 Joan, a parishioner of Napton, had been laid to rest only twelve days before William exhumed her body, carried it outside the church, despoiled it, and then stole it. Why William sought such a gruesome revenge on Joan is unfortunately not known. This story is, nevertheless, recorded in the plea rolls of the king’s bench during the reign of Richard II as a prosecution under the statute of premunire because it resulted in a dispute over which court system had jurisdiction over the crime. Should William be prosecuted in ecclesiastical court for sacrilege or in the king’s court under a writ of vi et armis?2 Richard Tylhe, the victimized rector, brought charges of sacrilege against Southam in the court of Rome. The court denounced and excommunicated William because his violence against the corpse of Joan was in ‘manifest contempt and sacrilege of Holy Mother Church’.3 William’s excommunication was to endure until he returned Joan’s body and paid restitution. William, angry that he had been forced to answer in an ecclesiastical court outside the realm of England,4 filed a suit of premunire against Richard Tylhe in the court of the king’s bench during the Easter term of 1380, claiming £1,000 in damages. The statutes of premunire prohibited any Englishman from bringing suit in an ecclesiastical court if the cognizance, or jurisdiction, belonged to the king’s courts. Southam claimed that this dispute, which had resulted in his excommunication, belonged instead in the king’s courts. Southam pled via his attorney, John de Whatton, that this quarrel was not about sacrilege but instead about his breaking and entering with ‘force and arms’. This investigation focuses primarily on the crown’s use of the statutes of premunire and provisors from the beginning of Richard II’s reign, in 1377, until 1394, the year after the third statute of premunire was passed. Often, as illustrated by the William Southam case above, the prosecutions were to determine whether a king’s court or Roman court had jurisdiction over cases such as trespass, debt or acts of sacrilege. More frequently, however, the prosecutions under the statutes of provisors and premunire concerned papal appointment to an ecclesiastical benefice, called a provision, to which the crown believed the king or an Englishman had the right to appoint. 1 2 3 4

TNA [PRO], KB 27/477, m. 59. All references to manuscripts are to documents held in The National Archives unless otherwise specified. Vi et armis writs, accusing defendants of committing trespass with force, were remedies available in courts under the jurisdiction of the English king such as the court of common pleas and king’s bench. KB 27/477, m. 59. The issue of sacrilege was heard in a Roman court in Flanders.

110

Diane Martin

Papal provisors had long sparked intense domestic political controversy in England because they threatened the patronage system of the crown. Both papal and crown administrations depended on the benefices to provide incomes to their staffs, councillors and bureaucrats. The right to appoint one’s nominees to lucrative ecclesiastical benefices was of vital importance and both the king and the pope invested immense resources in efforts to assure their rights. The plenitudo potestatis claimed by the papacy and its subsequent increased use of reservation to benefices caused English patrons, including the king, to resist papal appointees.5 The crown already possessed an array of legal remedies to use against papal provisors. In 1344 the king’s council had passed an ordinance prohibiting any English ecclesiastic from obtaining a provision or papal bull.6 It could and did utilize writs of quod permittat, quare impedit, quare incumbravit and quare non admisit.7 Writs of attachment on a prohibition and writs concerning drawing people outside the realm in prejudice of the king’s courts were additional tools the king might use.8 However, parliament passed the statutes of provisors and premunire in the reigns of Edward III and Richard II to further protect England from papal encroachments.9 The English parliament approved the first statute of provisors in 1351 and the first statute of premunire in 1353. Later in the reign of Edward III, in 1365, it issued the second statute of premunire. In 1390, Richard II’s parliament passed the second statute of provisors, followed, in 1393, by the third statute of premunire. Generally, these statutes complained that, although previous kings and noblemen had endowed many churches and various charities, papal provisors usurped the right of the king and lay patrons.10 These statutes proclaimed that the pope had increasingly appointed provisors to benefices to such an extent that parliament openly feared that few benefices would be left for Englishmen. Not only did papal provisors usurp the authority of the chapters to elect their own bishops, but soon, parliament claimed, the pope would try to appoint to benefices under lay patronage.11 Since papal

5

G. Barraclough, Papal Provisions: Aspects of Church History, Constitutional, Legal and Administrative in the Later Middle Ages (Westport CT, 1971), pp. 8–9. This is the theory that all resources of the church belong to the pope. He, therefore, had the right, theoretically, to appoint to any benefice. 6 CPR, 1343–1345, p. 277. 7 Quare impedit writs were actions in which the king sued a bishop for impeding the king’s nominee to a benefice. The disturbers of the king’s patronage rights were called to court to answer why they were hindering the plaintiff from presenting to his benefice. Writs of quare incumbravit called a bishop into the king’s courts to answer why he was encumbering the rightful patron from presenting. The bishop had the right to present if the rightful patron did not appoint within six months. The writ of quare non admisit could result in the most serious consequences: seizure of temporalities. The king used writs of quare non admisit to sue a bishop who failed to admit a crown appointee to a benefice after a king’s court had ruled in the appointee’s favor. See W. R. Jones, ‘Relations of the Two Jurisdictions: Conflict and Cooperation in England during the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries’, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History, ed. W. M. Bowsky (Lincoln NE, 1970), vol. 7, p. 122. 8 A writ of attachment ordered the arrest of a person to compel them to answer charges in court. The crown used a writ of attachment on a prohibition to arrest some person or class of people for violating a prohibition of the king. 9 SR, 25 Edward III, st. 4; 27 Edward III, st. 1, c. 1; 38 Edward III, st. 2, cc. 1–4; 13 Richard II, st. 2, c. 2; and 16 Richard II, c. 5. 10 The statute of provisors of benefices, SR, 25 Edward III, st. 4; the statute of premunire, 27 Edward III, st. 1, c. 1. 11 R. N. Swanson, Church and Society in Late Medieval England (Oxford, 1989), pp. 60, 78–9, 221; M. McKisack, The Fourteenth Century, 1307–1399 (Oxford, 1959, repr. 1991), pp. 272–3.

Prosecution of the Statutes of Provisors and Premunire

111

provisors were often absentee beneficiaries, many feared that the care of souls and charitable works, paid for with English tithes, would dwindle.12 One key difference between the statutes of provisors and premunire was the possible punishment which the king’s courts could inflict. The statute of provisors of 1351 ordered the immediate arrest of defendants.13 If found guilty, the worst that could happen to someone prosecuted under the statute of provisors, before the 1390 statute, was a fine, loss of the benefice and giving of an oath for future good behavior. In contrast to the statute of provisors, the statutes of premunire ordered that the defendant be forewarned to appear in court. The warning afforded premunire defendants notice of the crime for which they were accused, and the two months allowed them to prepare a defence for a legal proceeding in which severe punishment was possible.14 Someone charged under premunire could suffer outlawry, forfeiture of all property and imprisonment at the king’s pleasure as well as the loss of the benefice under dispute. A commonly held assumption about the statutes of provisors and premunire is that they were not enforced. Cecily Davies, in her article ‘The Statute of Provisors of 1351’, maintains that the statute of provisors was not enforced because of a 1377 concordat between crown and papacy.15 As recently as 1999, Richard G. Davies asserted that in the 1390s Richard II in no way encouraged enforcement, and indeed took ‘evasive action’ to avoid having to enforce the statutes.16 These erroneous assumptions are contradicted by the plea roll evidence. The actual prosecutions, as documented in the plea rolls, reveal frequent use of the statutes of provisors and premunire. A close examination reveals that the king’s bench started process of writs of provisors or premunire against at least ninety-one primary defendants between 1376 and 1394. 17 Surprisingly, in this study, no cases found targeted upper level churchmen. No 12 The clerics whom the king appointed were often absentee as well, but at least the king used them to

pay for the support of crown bureaucrats.

13 SR, 25 Edward III, st. 4: ‘And in case that the Presentees … be disturbed by such Provisors, so that

14

15

16 17

they may not have Possession of such Benefices by virtue of the Presentments or Collations to them made, or that they which be in Possession of such Benefices be impeached upon their said Possessions by such Provisors; then the said Provisors, their Procurators, Executors, and Notaries, shall be attached by their Body, and brought in to answer; and if they be convicted, they shall abide in Prison without being let to Mainprise, or Bail, or otherwise delivered, till that they have made Fine and Ransom to the King at his Will, and Gree [satisfaction] to the Party that shall feel himself grieved.’ Legislative grants of procedural protections were not uncommon at this time. See 25 Edward III, st. 5, cc. 3, 4. The fourth chapter is a famous due process statute. The third chapter allows defendants to challenge trial jury members if they had also been members of the presentment jury. Additionally, the ordinance for the clergy in 1352 mandated that indictments against clerics contain precise accusations. R. C. Palmer, English Law in the Age of the Black Death, 1348–1381: A Transformation of Governance and Law (Chapel Hill NC, 1993), p. 52. C. Davies, ‘The Statute of Provisors of 1351’, History 38 (1953), pp.116–33 (pp. 131–2). Her conclusions resulted from searching the close and patent rolls but not the plea rolls where documentation of actual prosecutions appears. R. G. Davies, ‘Richard II and the Church’, in Richard II: The Art of Kingship, ed. A. Goodman and J. Gillespie (Oxford, 1999), pp. 83–106 (p. 96). The crown prosecuted some of the defendants more than once for seeking the same benefice. Because multiple prosecutions of a single defendant seeking the same benefice were fundamentally the same dispute, each defendant is only counted once as a defendant. Abettors or helpers of the primary defendant are considered secondary defendants. For the years 1383–1387 in the king’s bench plea rolls, Hilary and Trinity terms were examined and Easter and Michaelmas terms were not examined. Therefore, the number of prosecutions is likely higher. For all other years from the beginning of Richard’s reign in 1377 through 1394, all four terms, Easter, Hilary, Trinity, and Michaelmas, were searched.

112

Diane Martin

cardinals, archbishops, bishops, archdeacons or abbots appear as defendants. Most defendants were mid- and low-level clerics. The highest ranking member of the ecclesiastical hierarchy identified in this study of provisors and premunire cases was John Whitby, a canon of Sempringham (Lincs.). His prosecution record, however, is incomplete. Strangely, the plea rolls do not indicate the specifics of the dispute or the benefice in question, and the record ends abruptly.18 Bishops need not have been immune from the crown’s wrath. In the reign of Edward III, before the passage of the statutes of provisors and premunire, when bishops favored the admission of papal provisors, the king ensured that the bishops’ financial security was threatened. Between 1343 and the Black Death, the crown launched a successful battle against dissident bishops over intrusive papal provisions, which ultimately ended in the crown’s confiscation of the temporalities of two bishops.19 This action in the reign of Edward III had been an extraordinary assault on the institution of episcopal rule, and a clear warning to others. The provisor and premunire legislation clearly seems applicable to bishops who admitted papal provisors. The statutes of provisors and premunire state that they were aimed at those who aided, helped or supported a papal provisor. Since a bishop admitted and inducted clerics in the benefices in his diocese, the crown could have punished bishops for accepting papal provisors. The bishops were the jurisdictional heads of their dioceses and controlled the admissions and inductions into benefices as well as the administration of the sacraments in the diocese. Therefore, it is unlikely that a provisor could have gained access to a benefice without the approval of a bishop. When faced with a dispute with a bishop over a benefice, it appears the crown used writs of quod permittat instead of the statutes of provisors or premunire. It was not uncommon for bishops to have been caught between a royal command to admit a certain royal nominee and a papal provision ordering the admittance of a papal nominee. In quod permittat cases a bishop might risk, for example, £100 in damages but usually risked little more than the right to admit the papal nominee.20 In a premunire prosecution, in contrast, a defendant could have been imprisoned and suffered the loss of all his property. A quod permittat writ was, therefore, much less threatening to the bishops. In Richard’s reign, quod permittat writs were much more common than were cases of provisors and premunire. In a quick and far from comprehensive sampling of the plea rolls between 1381 and 1394, thirty-one quod permittat cases21 in the king’s bench were uncovered; six of these cases were against bishops.22 A comprehensive search would probably result in over a thousand such cases.

18 19 20

21

22

Cases cited in this article from the court of common pleas are used only as narrative examples and are not included in the king’s bench statistical analysis. KB 27/510, m. 31. Palmer, English Law, pp. 29, 47. In only one case of the thirty-one quod permittat cases surveyed in this study did the plea rolls record a plaintiff recovering money. See KB 27/522, m. 29 in which a jury verdict ruled the plaintiff was to recover the right to appoint to the benefice and £42 which was equal to two years value of the church under dispute. KB 27/483, m. 17; KB 27/489, m. 28; KB 27/491, m. 26; KB 27/495, m. 68; KB 27/497, m. 7d; KB 27/499, m. 22; KB 27/505, m. 9d; KB 27/507, m. 23; KB 27/510, m. 70; KB 27/513, m. 7; KB 27/518, m. 28d; KB 27/521, mm. 2, 22; KB 27/522, mm. 6, 28, 28d, 29; KB 27/523, mm. 16, 22, 24, 24d; KB 27/524, mm. 14d, 15d, 16d; KB 27/525, m. 40; KB 27/527, m. 35d; KB 27/529, m. 37; KB 27/530, m. 30; KB 27/533, mm. 3, 17; KB 27/534, m. 21d. KB 27/497, m. 7d; KB 27/499, m. 22; KB 27/505, m. 9d; KB 27/521, m. 22; KB 27/522, m. 28; KB 27/523, m. 22.

Prosecution of the Statutes of Provisors and Premunire

113

Most dioceses experienced disputes touching issues relevant to the statutes of provisors and premunire, but some bishoprics had substantially more prosecutions than other bishoprics. In king’s bench between 1377 and 1394, the archdiocese of York had twelve prosecutions, and the dioceses of Coventry and Lichfield, and London thirteen apiece, while Lincoln had ten. Salisbury had five prosecutions and Durham had six in the same period. Hereford, Exeter, Norwich and Worcester each had four. The dioceses of Chichester, and Bath and Wells each had two provisor or premunire prosecutions. Four dioceses, therefore, faced no litigation about provisors or premunire: Rochester, Ely, Winchester and Carlisle.23 The archdiocese of Canterbury also had none from the court of the king’s bench. Map 1 below categorizes the number of provisors and premunire cases uncovered in this study by diocese. The largest dioceses geographically had the largest number of prosecutions (Coventry and Lichfield, York, Lincoln), while heavily populated centers like London followed closely behind. The geographic pattern throughout England, thus, was one of relatively even prosecutions. If the defendants were not high-ranking clergymen, who were they? Forty-five of the defendants in the king’s bench rolls have no ecclesiastical designation whatsoever.24 Although these men lacked any title, they were all, with the exception of four of them,25 almost certainly clergymen, since they had obtained or were attempting to obtain an ecclesiastical benefice. The reason for the lack of designation is presum23 Coventry and Lichfield: KB 27/462, m. 54; KB 27/470, m. 17d, KB 27/476, mm. 26, 57; KB 27/470,

m. 2, KB 27/463, m. 21; KB 27/475, m. 40; KB 27/477, m. 59; KB 27/479, m. 1; KB 27/481, m. 25d; KB 27/489, m. 77; KB 27/499, mm. 68, 69; KB 27/501, m. 53; KB 27/513, m. 55, KB 27/514, m. 68; KB 27/525, m. 14d; KB 27/527, m. 8d. London: KB 27/477, m. 13d; KB 27/482, m. 57; KB 27/484, mm. 7, 9; KB 27/509, m. 64, KB 27/510, m. 46; KB 27/519, m. 12; KB 27/516, m. 7d; KB 27/519, m. 67; KB 27/521, m. 17; KB 27/522, mm. 18, 69; KB 27/523, mm. 1, 11d; KB 27/525, m. 14; KB 27/528, m. 20. York: KB 27/475, m. 25; KB 27/478, mm. 31, 62; KB 27/479, mm. 2, 29; KB 27/491, m. 70; KB 27/507, m. 45; KB 27/515, mm. 3, 41; KB 27/521, m. 14, KB 27/523, m. 46; KB 27/525, m. 17; KB 27/527, m. 10; KB 27/530, m. 75. Lincoln: KB 27/464, m. 33d, KB 27/465, m. 40d; KB 27/482, m. 2, KB 27/484, m. 8; KB 27/510, m. 31; KB 27/509, m. 63, KB 27/510, m. 41; KB 27/512, m. 7, KB 27/516, m. 43; KB 27/519, m. 38d, KB 27/522, m. 77d, KB 27/523, m. 47, KB 27/530, m. 27; KB 27/521, m. 13; KB 27/525, mm. 35, 40. Salisbury: KB 27/462, m. 7, KB 27/464, m. 57, KB 27/467, m. 3; KB 27/471, mm. 33, 58; KB 27/485, m. 14d; KB 27/514, m. 36; KB 27/520, m. 10. Durham: KB 27/467, m. 20, KB 27/468, m. 20; KB 27/476, m. 29; KB 27/515, m. 19; KB 27/522, mm. 48, 51; KB 27/523, m. 66. Hereford: KB 27/472, m. 36; KB 27/526, m. 46; KB 27/527, m. 12d; KB 27/532, m. 25. Exeter: KB 27/482, m. 57; KB 27/521, m. 8; KB 27/527, m. 26; KB 27/528, m. 38. Norwich: KB 27/501, m. 15; KB 27/503, m. 41; KB 27/505, mm. 29, 37; KB 27/509, m. 23. Worcester: KB 27/487, m. 65; KB 27/509, m. 62; KB 27/524, m. 38; KB 27/526, m. 40; KB 27/527, m. 31. Chichester: KB 27/464, m. 30, KB 27/471, m. 41d; KB 27/511, m. 50. Bath and Wells: KB 27/512, mm. 21, 59; KB 27/518, m. 20d. 24 KB 27/462, m. 7, KB 27/464, m. 57, KB 27/467, m. 3; KB 27/463, m. 21, KB 27/470, m. 2; KB 27/464, mm. 23d, 30, 33d; KB 27/465, m. 25; KB 27/471, m. 41d; four primary defendants in KB 27/472, m. 36; KB 27/475, m. 40; KB 27/476, m. 29; KB 27/477, mm. 13d, 59; KB 27/478, mm. 31, 62; KB 27/479, m. 1; KB 27/479, mm. 2, 29; KB 27/482, m. 2, KB 27/484, m. 8; KB 27/484, m. 7, KB 27/485, m. 14d; KB 27/481, m. 25d; KB 27/482, m. 57; KB 27/501, m. 53; four defendants in KB 27/505, m. 29d; KB 27/509, m. 62; KB 27/510, m. 57; KB 27/511, m. 50; KB 27/513, m. 55, KB 27/514, m. 68; KB 27/514, m. 36; KB 27/518, m. 20d; KB 27/519, m. 38d, KB 27/522, m. 77d, KB 27/523, m. 47, KB 27/530, m. 27; KB 27/521, mm. 14, 17; KB 27/523, mm. 1, 66; KB 27/525, mm. 14d, 40; KB 27/526, m. 46; KB 27/527, mm. 8d, 26; KB 27/528, m. 38; KB 27/532, m. 25. 25 Four cases in which the defendant has no title were about issues not related to possession of ecclesiastical benefices. These cases were about trespass or debt and the disputes focused on whether the ecclesiastical courts or the king’s courts had jurisdiction. See KB 27/464, mm. 23d, 33d; KB 27/465, m. 25; KB 27/501, m. 53.

114

Diane Martin

Map 1. Distribution of provisors and premunire cases among dioceses from the king’s bench, 1377–1394.

Prosecution of the Statutes of Provisors and Premunire

115

ably that they were unemployed clerks, who had no title, but were seeking a benefice via papal patronage. Forty-six of the defendants are designated with an ecclesiastical title. The most common title was clerk. Nineteen of the defendants were clerks.26 The designation of someone as a clerk in the plea rolls is likely an indication that he possessed a benefice of some kind. If, however, the clerk had been a high-ranking figure such as an archdeacon, the plea rolls would have referred to him as such. Fifteen defendants were chaplains.27 All of the chaplains were probably stipendiary chaplains. It would be rare for an endowed chaplain not to be designated as such. Stipendiary chaplains were usually hired by lay lessees of a church to perform religious services and were usually paid little and possessed little education.28 Two of the defendants were parsons.29 A parson was a rector who was in charge of a parish, had full possession of the benefice, and received the tithes from the church.30 Two other defendants were described as brothers, reflecting their status as monks.31 Four defendants were designated as master,32 which indicates that a defendant had earned a master’s degree from a university, and could teach. There were two priors,33 a single canon,34 and a lone vicar.35 Priors were monks who supervised a priory or ranked next below the abbot of an abbey. A canon was a priest who normally held a prebend in the cathedral or collegiate church of whose chapter he was a member. Vicars were permanent substitutes for the parson and received a salary but not the tithes of the parish. As illustrated in Figure 1, most of the primary defendants prosecuted under the statutes of provisors and premunire were mid- and low-level clerks. In addition to the main defendants, who sought the benefices for themselves, the administration of Richard II also charged numerous abettors with aiding the primary defendant. An abettor was any person who in any way supported or encouraged the primary defendant to seek a papal provision. Abettors could be attorneys, procurators, notaries or simply friends who aided the main defendant with his transgression of the statutes of provisors and premunire. In the provisors and premunire cases uncovered in this study, 120 abettors are listed in the king’s bench plea rolls. Therefore, more abettors are listed as defendants in the provisors and premunire lawsuits than are primary defendants. In about half of all the prosecutions, however, no

26 KB 27/467, m. 20, KB 27/468, m. 20; KB 27/471, mm. 33, 58; KB 27/476, mm. 26, 57, KB 27/470,

27

28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

m. 17d; KB 27/487, m. 65; KB 27/489, m. 77; KB 27/491, m. 70; KB 27/503, m. 41; KB 27/509, m. 64, KB 27/510, m. 46, KB 27/519, m. 12; KB 27/512, m. 7, KB 27/516, m. 43; KB 27/512, mm. 21, 59; KB 27/521, m. 14, KB 27/523, m. 46; KB 27/515, m. 3; KB 27/520, m. 10; KB 27/522, m. 51; KB 27/525, m. 14; KB 27/527, mm. 10, 12d. KB 27/475, m. 25; KB 27/499, mm. 68, 69; KB 27/503, m. 71; KB 27/505, mm. 29d, 37; KB 27/507, m. 45; KB 27/509, m. 63, KB 27/510, m. 41; KB 27/515, mm. 19, 41; KB 27/516, m. 7d; KB 27/519, m. 67; KB 27/521, m. 8; KB 27/522, mm. 18, 69; KB 27/523, m. 11d; KB 27/525, m. 17; KB 27/528, m. 20. R. C. Palmer, Selling the Church: The English Parish in Law, Commerce, and Religion, 1350–1550 (Chapel Hill NC, 2002), pp. 1, 56–8, 139–40. KB 27/472, m. 36; KB 27/521, m. 13. Palmer, Selling the Church, p. 11. KB 27/484, m. 9; KB 27/526, m. 40, KB 27/527, m. 31. KB 27/509, m. 23, KB 27/501, m. 15, also titled as clerk; KB 27/522, m. 48; KB 27/524, m. 38; KB 27/530, m. 75. KB 27/462, m. 54; KB 27/525, m. 35. KB 27/510, m. 31. KB 27/465, m. 40d.

116

Diane Martin

Figure 1. Titles of provisors and premunire defendants from the king’s bench, 1376–1394. This chart indicates the ecclesiastical titles of defendants who were prosecuted in the court of the king’s bench under the statutes of provisors or premunire. The ‘undesignated’ category denotes that no ecclesiastical title whatsoever was listed for those defendants.

abettors are listed. In one unusual case, thirteen men were cited as abettors.36 Over fifty of the 120 abettors are listed as clergymen. None of the abettors are high-ranking clergymen. Only six parsons37 listed as abettors appear by their title to already have a benefice. The rest of the abettors are vicars, clerks, masters or chaplains and, therefore, of similar economic status to the primary defendants. The abettors of the main defendant were also considered defendants but were of secondary importance. Sometimes only the first names of the abettors are listed or the number of abettors is indicated but their names are not listed.38 Usually, however, the name of each abettor was recorded in the prosecution on the plea roll, and the sheriff received orders to warn or arrest all of the abettors and the primary defendant. The sheriff would normally report to the king’s bench whether he was able to warn or arrest each abettor. The plea rolls record whether the abettors appeared in court on the appropriate day. For instance in 1390, in a premunire prosecution before the king’s bench, Robert Lowes was prosecuted along with five of his abettors: Alex Herle, John Herle, Richard Neusane, John Willyngham and John Staynton.39 The sheriff of Yorkshire reported to the court that he could not warn 36 KB 27/509, m. 23. John Lombe was the defendant in a dispute over the archdeaconry of Sudbury in

the diocese of Norwich.

37 KB 27/476, mm. 26, 57; KB 27/479, mm. 1, 2; KB 27/499, mm. 68, 69; KB 27/525, m. 35. 38 KB 27/521, mm. 8, 13; KB 27/525, m. 14d. 39 KB 27/515, m. 3.

Prosecution of the Statutes of Provisors and Premunire

117

abettors Willyngham and Staynton because they resided in a liberty, where the sheriff could not deliver the warning, and that the bailiff of the liberty had not responded to the sheriff ’s request to warn them. The court of the king’s bench ordered the sheriff to warn Willyngham and Staynton regardless of the liberty in which they resided. In the next court session, the sheriff of Yorkshire reported thathe had successfully warned all the defendants including Willyngham and Staynton and, accordingly, the case proceeded.40 Abettors were required to appear in court each time the defendant was required to attend. Often the justices of the king’s bench ordered the main defendant and his abettors to come back in the following term because the court had yet to be advised how to rule. It is possible that requiring the abettors to appear in court, theoretically to face the same consequences as the primary defendant, may have been a strategy to encourage the main defendant to submit. The embarrassment to the main defendant of getting his friends in trouble and the inconvenience to them of frequent court appearances may well have encouraged the main defendant’s submission. Thus, the crown may well have resorted to strategies other than straightforward prosecutions in court and, instead, probably employed harassment tactics to work its will on defendants. The primary defendants and their abettors sought a wide range of benefices. One dispute was over a chapel.41 Three were about priories.42 Thirty-nine of the disputes were over churches.43 Thirteen were disputes over prebends44 and two were about archdeaconries,45 while a lone canonry and a single vicarage were also disputed. Another dispute surrounded the chancellory of Wells cathedral46 while another was over the treasury of St Paul’s, London, both of which were prestigious and important benefices.47 Six cases were not about benefices at all, but about issues such as trespass, debt, or acts of sacrilege and focused on whether the cognizance should belong to the king or to a Roman court.48 Overall, as shown in Figure 2, the evidence indicates that mid-level clerks were disputing over mid-level benefices with the occasional dispute over a higher ranking office. No bishoprics were the subject of dispute. While this study has focused on the king’s bench cases, no single tribunal 40 41 42 43

44

45 46 47 48

KB 27/515, m. 3. KB 27/527, m. 8d. KB 27/462, m. 54; KB 27/475, m. 25; KB 27/484, m. 9. Churches: KB 27/462, m. 7; KB 27/464, mm. 30, 57; KB 27/467, m. 3; KB 27/468, m. 20; KB 27/470, m. 17d; KB 27/471, m. 41d; KB 27/475, m. 40; KB 27/476, mm. 26, 29, 57; KB 27/478, mm. 31, 62; KB 27/479, mm. 1, 2; KB 27/481, m. 25d; KB 27/482, mm. 2, 57; KB 27/484, m. 8; KB 27/487, m. 65; KB 27/499, mm. 68, 69; KB 27/503, m. 71; KB 27/505, mm. 29, 37; KB 27/507, m. 45; KB 27/509, mm. 62, 63; KB 27/510, mm. 41, 57; KB 27/512, m. 7; KB 27/514, m. 36; KB 27/515, mm. 3, 19; KB 27/516, mm. 7d, 43; KB 27/518, m. 20d; KB 27/519, m. 67; KB 27/521, mm. 8, 14; KB 27/522, m. 48; KB 27/523, mm. 1, 46; KB 27/524, m. 38; KB 27/525, mm. 14, 14d, 35; KB 27/527, m. 10; KB 27/530, m. 75. Vicarages: KB 27/463, m. 21; KB 27/470, m. 2; KB 27/519, m. 38d; KB 27/521, m. 17; KB 27/522, mm. 18, 69, 77d; KB 27/523, m. 47; KB 27/525, m. 17; KB 27/526, m. 46; KB 27/528, m. 38; KB 27/530, m. 27. Collegiate churches: KB 27/479, m. 29; KB 27/532, m. 25. KB 27/471, mm. 33, 58; KB 27/472, m. 36; KB 27/484, m. 7, KB 27/485, m. 14d; KB 27/491, m. 70; KB 27/503, m. 41; KB 27/511, m. 50; KB 27/513, m. 55, KB 27/514, m. 68; KB 27/515, m. 41; KB 27/520, m. 10; KB 27/522, m. 51; KB 27/525, m. 40; KB 27/527, mm. 12d, 26. KB 27/501, m.15, KB 27/509, m. 23; KB 27/523, m. 11d. KB 27/512, m. 59. KB 27/509, m. 64, KB 27/510, m. 46, KB 27/519, m. 12. KB 27/464, m. 23d, KB 27/465, m. 25; KB 27/464, m. 33d; KB 27/465, m. 40d; KB 27/477, m. 59; KB 27/501, m. 53; KB 27/521, m. 13.

118

Diane Martin

Figure 2. Types of benefice under dispute in provisors and premunire cases from the king’s bench, 1376–1394.

specialized in provisor and premunire litigation to the exclusion of others. Most of the king’s courts had the power and jurisdiction to receive a provisor or premunire case. In one dispute, a defendant might pass through many courts. Those prosecuted under the statutes of provisors and premunire usually appeared either before the court of common pleas or the king’s bench. A defendant in a case brought under premunire or provisors might, however, appear in chancery, council or even before parliament.49 In addition, a dispute that originated in one court could end in another. For instance, after Walter Lovenaunt had been convicted in the court of common pleas, he appealed to the king’s bench.50 Ultimately Lovenaunt submitted by swearing that he would not sue further. The crown put him under a debt recognizance and pardoned him.51 William Gamul was ordered to stand trial before the king’s council after his arrest.52 He was prosecuted under the statute of premunire before the king’s bench.53 It was not unusual, however, for provisor disputes to be heard in chancery.54 Not infrequently defendants even appeared before the king’s council. It can be concluded, therefore, that no single court was dominant in the prosecution of papal provisors and their helpers. A handful of crown attorneys managed many of the provisor and premunire prosecutions as well as quod permittat cases for the crown or for individual plaintiffs who sued jointly with the crown. The attorneys were not always listed by name in 49 CCR, 1377–1381, p. 472; CPR 1377–1381, p. 516. John Bircheover answered provisors charges in

chancery on 25 Jan. 1380, in parliament and at a court in Westminster.

50 CPR, 1377–1381, pp. 574–5; CPR, 1374–1377, pp. 268–9, 275–6, 459; CP 40/484, mm. 109d, 117d.

The common pleas record indicates the writ of error to king’s bench. CP 40/484, mm. 109d, 117d.

51 CCR, 1381–1385, p. 609. A debt recognizance is an obligation a defendant entered into in which he

swore that if he performed a certain act, he would pay a specified fine to the court.

52 CPR, 1377–1381, p. 303. 53 KB 27/463, m. 21. 54 CP 40/479, m. 511; CP 40/486, m. 465, CP 40/485, m. 411; CCR, 1377–1381, p. 226; CCR,

1377–1381, p. 472, CPR, 1377–1381, p. 516; CPR, 1377–1381, p. 5; CPR, 1374–1377, p. 331; CPR, 1374–1377, p. 459. Some of these seven disputes appeared in other courts as well.

Prosecution of the Statutes of Provisors and Premunire

119

provisor and premunire cases, but when their names were given, the most frequently listed plaintiff attorneys were Stephen Fall in the king’s bench,55 Michael Skyllyng in the court of common pleas,56 and Edward Brudenell, who argued for the king in both courts.57 These men handled almost all of the king’s prosecutions of provisors, premunire, quod permittat, quare impedit and writs of prohibitions. It was not uncommon for these lawyers to represent the crown in more than one ecclesiastical benefice case per day. For instance, in Hilary term of 1392, Edward Brudenell represented the king in two consecutive cases about a disputed church in Gloucester and then the vicarage of the church of Ashwell.58 While quod permittat cases were high-volume and usually short cases, Brudenell also handled provisor and premunire litigation which required numerous court appearances. Provisor and premunire litigations were more frequently pleaded and more often sent to a jury. For instance, in 1391 Brudenell prosecuted John Bulwyk on behalf of the king and the archbishop of Canterbury’s appointee William Bampton for attempting to dislodge Bampton from the church of Harrow (Middlesex). This case resulted in at least four different court dates and much preparation behind the scenes before the jury verdict came in.59 Thus Fall, Skyllyng and Brudenell, the king’s lead attorneys for ecclesiastical disputes, may have functioned as directors of the crown’s ecclesiastical policy.60 The crown’s policy against papal provisors achieved partial success. On the one hand, the king’s government nearly always succeeded in forcing defendants to submit and give up their claim to the disputed benefice or their appeal to Rome. On the other hand, despite frequent prosecutions under the statutes of provisors and premunire, Englishmen still sought papal provisions and judgments from Rome. The number prosecuted under the statutes did not drop between 1377 and 1394. Several factors undermined the crown’s strategy. The crown did not address the problem with all of its power probably because of political considerations. It may have hesitated to attack the higher clergy for fear of losing the church’s support during a time of chronic political turmoil. The persistent struggle for power between the king and barons during the reign of Richard II may have diluted the effectiveness of the strategy against papal provisors. Difficulty in locating defendants hampered the government’s policy towards papal provisors. Frequently the crown found it difficult to locate the defendants in order to arrest or warn them, a common problem in medieval litigation in general. At least twenty-nine times in the cases studied before the king’s bench between 1376 55 For a sampling of cases handled by Stephen Fall see KB 27/462, m. 7; KB 27/464, m. 57; KB 27/491,

mm. 26, 70.

56 The appointment of Michael Skyllyng to plead for Richard II both defending and prosecuting cases in

57

58 59 60

the court of common pleas is recorded in CP 40/468, m.194d with a recitation of letters patent of 20 November 1377. Two quare impedit cases Michael Skyllyng handled for Edward III in 1375 between the king and the bishop of Coventry and Lichfield: CP 40/470, mm. 2, 140. A few premunire cases handled by Michael Skyllyng: CP 40/472, m. 506; CP 40/473, m. 403. A quod permittat case handled by Skyllyng: CP 40/475, m. 341. A sampling of quod permittat cases handled by Edward Brudenell for the king: KB 27/499, m. 22; KB 27/505, m. 9d; KB 27/513, m. 7; KB 27/518, m. 28d; KB 27/521, m. 2. A sampling of provisor and premunire cases handled by Edward Brudenell for the king: KB 27/519, m.12; KB 27/521, m. 8; KB 27/523, m. 1; KB 27/525, m. 14d; KB 27/527, m. 8d. KB 27/523, m. 24. KB 27/523, m. 1. Stephen Fall must not have devoted all of his time in court arguing for the crown because, on occasion, he appears as attorney for the defendant: KB 27/512, m. 59.

120

Diane Martin

and 1394, the sheriff reported to the court that he could not find the defendant(s) to warn or arrest him.61 For instance, in a premunire prosecution initiated in 1386 the sheriff was ordered to warn John Ixworth to appear before the king’s bench.62 Ixworth did not appear in court, and the sheriff reported that he could not find him. The court, therefore, ordered the sheriff to arrest Ixworth and have him appear before the court during the next term. The sheriff again returned that he could not find him and so the court ordered exigent process to start against Ixworth to make him appear. Although exacted at the county court of Lancaster, Ixworth was still not located. Eventually in September 1388, two years after proceedings had begun, Ixworth strolled in before the king’s bench with a royal pardon in hand. In another case, the sheriff of Nottingham apparently never found John Holm, a provisor defendant.63 Similarly, in 1380, the sheriff of York, ordered to take into custody one defendant and seven of his abettors, arrested a few of the abettors but could not find the main defendant.64 As the lengthy prosecutions stretched over many years, the effectiveness of the prosecutions was undermined. Often the court continually delayed judgments because they had ‘not yet been advised’.65 For example, in Trinity term of 1383, the parties in a suit before the king’s bench between Pershore Abbey and Robert Wodyngham arrived before the court for the third time.66 The justices ordered them to return in Hilary term because the court had ‘not yet been advised’ how to rule. This was the beginning of a process in which the court refused to rule but ordered them to reappear no fewer than fourteen more times. Both parties faithfully appeared at least twice a year until Easter term of 1389 when the record ceases, suggesting that there was an out of court settlement. On other occasions procedural or technical errors caused delays. For instance, in a premunire prosecution arising from the diocese of York against Roger de Holm in Hilary term of 1379, the sheriff ’s return of the writ certified to the court of common pleas that the bailiff of the liberty of Holderness had warned the defendant, but in the return the sheriff spelled premunire, ‘premuire’. The court decided that this technicality nullified the legality of the warning. Therefore, the warning had to be redone.67 In another instance, the sheriff failed to mention in his return that he had warned the defendant. This warning had to be redone also, and the court amerced the sheriff twenty shillings for the mistake.68 A sheriff of Northampton failed to

61 KB 27/462, mm. 7, 54; KB 27/464, mm. 23d, 30, 57; KB 27/477, m. 13d; KB 27/478, mm. 31, 62; KB

62 63 64 65

66 67 68

27/482, mm. 2, 57; KB 27/484, mm. 7, 9; KB 27/485, m. 14d; KB 27/501, m. 53; KB 27/503, mm. 41, 71; KB 27/505, m. 37; KB 27/511, m. 50; KB 27/515, m. 19; KB 27/516, m. 7d; KB 27/518, m. 20d; KB 27/519, m. 38d; KB 27/520, m. 10; KB 27/521, mm. 8, 17; KB 27/523, m. 11d; KB 27/525, mm. 14, 14d; KB 27/528, m. 20. KB 27/501, m. 53. KB 27/478, mm. 31, 62. KB 27/479, m. 2. See CP 40/472, m. 550d; and CP 40/485, m. 411: ‘And because the court herein has not yet been advised whether the aforementioned Robert, John, and Thomas ought to be put outside the protection etc.’ most likely indicates that the council had not yet instructed the court how to rule in a certain case. Delayed judgments for lack of instruction were frequent. The council probably wished to give the defendant sufficient time to submit voluntarily. Other examples of delay because the court had not been advised follow: KB 27/519, m. 67; KB 27/522, m. 28. KB 27/487, m. 65. CP 40/473, m. 215. CP 40/474, m. 346.

Prosecution of the Statutes of Provisors and Premunire

121

record in his return at what location he had warned chaplain John Stonton, the defendant. The king’s bench, therefore, ruled that it was an insufficient return.69 The sheriff of London’s return was rejected by the king’s bench justices in 1388 because it failed to mention the warning of any of the three accused abettors. The sheriff was also amerced and ordered to re-do the warning.70 Difficulty in executing the king’s writs in liberties contributed to the length of premunire prosecutions. In 1389 the sheriff of Sussex was ordered to warn William Welles and his abettor to appear before the king’s bench during Hilary term. The sheriff reported that the bailiff of a liberty of the earl of Arundel had not responded to his request to warn the defendants.71 In a premunire prosecution against Richard Brymusby, the case dragged on through five adjournments from Trinity 1380 until Michaelmas 1382.72 Initially, the bailiff of the liberty of the honor of Tickhill did not warn the defendant.73 The second time the sheriff sent the writ too late. The third, fourth and fifth times the sheriff failed to return the writ to the court.74 A variety of other delays further frustrated prosecution of those accused of violating the statutes of provisors or premunire. Many cases never came to judgment, but rather ended abruptly with no explanation or further trace of the case, implying an out of court settlement.75 Sometimes the justices respited the case with no explanation.76 Sometimes parties died before the case was resolved as in 1389 when the sheriff of Staffordshire reported to the king’s bench that one of the abettors, Sir Ralph Stafford, had died before the sheriff could arrest him.77 Most cases were not resolved by jury verdict – or even in court. Of the ninety-one cases studied, only fifteen provisor or premunire cases were resolved before the court of the king’s bench.78 In eight of these cases the defendants had been outlawed for not appearing before the court and had thereafter been pardoned.79 On three occasions the charges were dropped because the plaintiff failed to appear in court.80 Only four of these provisor or premunire cases resulted in a jury verdict and in two of those cases the juries ruled in the defendant’s favor.81 The accused’s odds of suffering the full penalties of the statutes were minuscule. One rare example of a full prosecution came before the king’s bench in Hilary term of 1392. The crown arrested Walter Eymer for violating the 1390 statute of 69 70 71 72 73

74 75 76 77 78

79 80 81

KB 27/509, m. 63. KB 27/509, m. 64. KB 27/511, m. 50. CP 40/479, m. 479. In this liberty the bailiff had the franchise of return of writ. Often the king’s official had to step in and enforce what the king wanted done regardless of the liberty jurisdiction. In this case, CP 40/479, m. 479, the court ordered that the sheriff warn the defendant and not ‘omit on account of the liberty’. In CP 40/474, m. 346, the sheriff failed to send the writ five times. KB 27/468, m. 20; KB 27/471, m. 41; KB 27/472, m. 36; CP 40/479, mm. 479, 511; CP 40/481, m. 248. CP 40/481, m. 248. KB 27/513, m. 55. Also see KB 27/476, m. 26. Stafford had been murdered by Sir John Holand in July 1385. Nigel Saul, Richard II (New Haven, 1997), p. 120. KB 27/470, m. 2; KB 27/475, m. 25; KB 27/484, m. 9; KB 27/499, m. 69; KB 27/501, m. 53; KB 27/503, m. 71; KB 27/505, m. 37; KB 27/509, m. 23; KB 27/512, mm. 21, 59; KB 27/515, mm. 3, 19; KB 27/523, mm. 1, 47; KB 27/526, m. 40. KB 27/470, m. 2; KB 27/475, m. 25; KB 27/501, m. 53; KB 27/503, m. 71; KB 27/505, m. 37; KB 27/512, m. 21; KB 27/515, m. 19; KB 27/526, m. 40. KB 27/509, m. 23; KB 27/512, m. 59; KB 27/515, m. 3. KB 27/484, m. 9; KB 27/ 499, mm. 68, 69; KB 27/523, mm. 1, 47.

122

Diane Martin

provisors.82 In court, the plaintiff, Henry Derylyng, claimed that Eymer had obtained an illegal papal provision for the chapel of Burford in Oxfordshire. This provision intruded into the advowson rights of the abbess of Keynsham, who had appointed Derlyng as chaplain.83 The key question before the court was which of the parties, Eymer or Derlyng, had enjoyed peaceful possession of the chapel on 29 January 1390, the day of the passage of the second statute of provisors. Derlyng asserted he had had possession for six years prior to the 1390 statute, but Eymer had disturbed him of his possession by a papal provision. Derlyng claimed damages of £200, presumably for expenses related to traveling to Roman court and appearing before a papal auditor. Eymer denied having sued the plaintiff in Roman court but admitted he had obtained the papal provision to Burford chapel from Pope Urban VI. Eymer argued, however, that the pope had given him the right to a benefice valued at 20 marks in 1387, well before the passage of the second statute of provisors in January 1390. The jury ruled in favor of the plaintiff and assessed damages at £100. The king’s bench then ordered Eymer imprisoned and subject to the penalty of the 1390 statute of provisors.84 The imposition of these penalties spelled out in the statutes, however, was extremely rare in the reign of Richard II. Many defendants had clearly violated the statutes of provisors and/or premunire; but, if they renounced their rights to the benefice and promised to cause no further trouble, the crown usually restored them to the king’s protection. For instance, William Corby greatly benefited from the king’s patronage after he had been prosecuted under the statute of premunire in 1380. In January of 1381 Corby appeared as the king’s esquire, and the king granted him land for maintenance.85 He received additional lands in February of 1381,86 and in 1383 the king granted him a £10 annuity.87 John Donewych, another reformed papal provisor who had been forced to provide mainpernors in defense of provisor charges in 1380, ended up holding several offices and benefices. In September of 1380 the king appointed him to a commission to ‘guard the peace and the Statutes of Winchester, Northampton and Westminster’.88 In 1385 he served the crown by collecting money for the king.89 Before his death in 1392, he served as the rector of Barley in Hertfordshire, canon of Salisbury and St Paul’s London and received stipends from three prebends. 90 The crown appears to have had a strategy for handling papal provisors other than simple prosecution. By calling defendants and their abettors into court repeatedly and threatening them with the harsh punishments spelled out in the statutes of provisors and premunire, the crown probably hoped to intimidate, embarrass and wear down the resolve of the defendants. Some uniformity in policy was achieved by the frequent use of a small number of attorneys who handled most of the ecclesiastical benefice dispute litigation for the crown. Prosecutions occurred in a variety of courts. While most cases were heard before king’s bench or common pleas, on occasion the king’s council and even chancery were used. The process was slow and 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90

KB 27/523, m. 47. Advowson is the right of a patron to present a clergyman to a church or to an ecclesiastical benefice. The exact punishment is not detailed in the record. CCR, 1377–1381, p. 501. CPR, 1377–1381, p. 596. CCR, 1381–1385, p. 200. CCR, 1377–1381, p. 483. This case concerned a dispute at Cambridge. CCR, 1381–1385, p. 534. A. B. Emden, A Biographical Register of the University of Cambridge to 1500 (Cambridge, 1963), p. 191.

Prosecution of the Statutes of Provisors and Premunire

123

cumbersome. Often defendants could not be located or did not appear in court. Procedural errors, death of parties and delayed judgments contributed to make the process an inefficient course of action. The crown patiently and persistently proceeded against obstinate defendants until they submitted. The crown could have inflicted the full force of the law on the provisor and his abettors. It rarely did. Instead the crown sought to gain the compliance of the defendants without creating enemies of the state. This forgiving approach, however, does not appear to have deterred other clerks from seeking patronage from Rome. The absence of rigid enforcement of the statutes of provisors and premunire suggests that the government’s object was to achieve social control rather than the punishment of guilty offenders.

‘Mercy and Truth Preserve the King’

‘MERCY AND TRUTH PRESERVE THE KING’: RICHARD II’S USE OF THE ROYAL PARDON IN 1397 AND 13981 Helen Lacey Richard II convened his so-called ‘Revenge Parliament’ on 17 September 1397, with the intention of imposing a new personal agenda on the polity of the realm.2 Two months earlier the king had ordered the arrest of his longstanding political opponents, the Lords Appellant, and the autumn parliament provided the forum for their public trial and conviction. Furthermore, he extorted concessions from the Lords and Commons which effectively curtailed the powers of parliament.3 For the chronicler Thomas Walsingham these events were the herald of a new and tyrannical phase of Richard’s reign, and historians have generated a considerable body of scholarship in their attempt to elucidate the distinctive character of this period.4 However, these studies have struggled to explain the motivation behind the dramatic 1 2

3

4

‘Mercy and truth preserve the king, and by clemency is his throne strengthened.’ Proverbs, 20:28. Historians have drawn attention to the notorious tactics Richard employed to intimidate the Lords and Commons: by surrounding the parliament with over two thousand Cheshire archers; and by refusing to name those individuals exempted from the general pardon proclaimed in the opening speech of the chancellor, Bishop Stafford of Exeter. For references to the former, see: TNA [PRO], CHES 2/70, m. 7d (all subsequent references to documentary sources are to The National Archives unless otherwise specified); CCR 1396–99, p. 144; RP, III, p. 347. The Cheshire archers are also discussed in G. Dodd, ‘Getting Away with Murder: Sir John Haukeston and Richard II’s Cheshire Archers’, Nottingham Medieval Studies 46 (2002), pp. 102–18; R. R. Davies, ‘Richard II and the Principality of Chester, 1397–9’, in The Reign of Richard II: Essays in Honour of May McKisack, ed. F. R. H. Du Boulay and C. M. Barron (London, 1971), pp. 256–79; J. L. Gillespie, ‘Richard II’s Cheshire Archers’, Transactions of the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire 125 (1974), pp. 1–35. For the chronicle references, see: Historia Vitae et Regni Ricardi Secundi, ed. G. B. Stow (Philadelphia, 1977), p. 140; The Chronicle of Adam Usk, 1377–1421, ed. C. Given-Wilson (Oxford, 1997), pp. 22–5. There is some discrepancy in the reports of the number of archers present, discussed in Dodd, ‘Getting away with Murder’, p. 102, n. 3. All manuscript references are to documents held in The National Archives, unless otherwise specified. For the contemporary references to these events, see: RP, III, pp. 347–85; ‘Annales Ricardi Secundi et Henrici Quarti’, in Johannis de Trokelowe et Anon Chronica et Annales, ed. H. T. Riley, Rolls Series (London, 1866); Vita Ricardi Secundi, pp. 137–51; Eulogium Historiarum Sive Temporis, ed. F. S. Haydon, Rolls Series (London, 1863), III, pp. 371–79; Adam Usk, pp. 28–35; Traison et Mort: Chronique de la Traison et Mort de Richart Deux Roy Dengleterre, ed. B. Williams (1846), pp. 117–27; Kirkstall Abbey Chronicles, ed. J. Taylor, Publications of the Thoresby Society (1952), pp. 118–20; ‘Chronicles of Dieulacres Abbey, 1381–1403’, in M. V. Clarke and V. H. Galbraith, ‘The Deposition of Richard II’, Bulletin of the John Rylands Library xiv (1930), pp. 164–70; Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 54–102. Walsingham famously commented that in the summer of 1397 the king ‘began to tyrannise and burden his people’. Given-Wilson, Revolution, p. 71. See also: J. G. Edwards, ‘The Parliamentary Committee of 1398’, EHR 40 (1925), pp. 321–33; N. Saul, Richard II (London, 1997), pp. 375–81; A. Tuck, Richard II and the English Nobility (London, 1973), pp. 187–92; M. Bennett, Richard II and the Revolution of 1399 (Stroud, 1999), pp. 98–108, 118–20; M. Giancarlo, ‘Murder, Lies and Storytelling: The Manipulation of Justice(s) in the Parliaments of 1397 and 1399’, Speculum 77 (2002),

‘Mercy and Truth Preserve the King’

125

events of 1397–8. The intention of this article is to suggest that one vital element of Richard II’s ‘tyranny’ has been overlooked, namely his view of the role and significance of the royal pardon. Beyond the drama of parliamentary proceedings, scant attention has been paid to the way in which Richard actually used the royal pardon in these years to bring pressure to bear on his political opponents. While the chroniclers dwell on the set-piece show trials of Arundel and Warwick, they allude only briefly to events occurring outside the limelight of parliament. Walsingham refers to a vague atmosphere of suspicion, and to secretive activities carried out by royal agents in order to secure forced loans for the king.5 The administrative records of government, however, contain a whole series of veiled references to arrests, imprisonments and council meetings, which, when pieced together, reveal a sequence of events revolving around the use of the royal pardon as a political bargaining tool. Richard, it seems, was using the very concept of pardon to justify his move against the supporters of the Lords Appellant in the autumn of 1397. A detailed examination of these events is therefore vital to our understanding of the whole context surrounding Richard II’s tyrannical behaviour in the final years of his reign. Moreover, with this context properly elucidated, we can begin to consider whether the two high-profile declarations of pardon made in the 1397 Revenge Parliament were more than merely isolated gestures of grace. Indeed, it seems plausible to suggest that these acts were part of a wider agenda to use the prerogative of mercy to achieve specific political ends: to bring opponents of the regime to account and to send a clear signal that prerogative power would be exercised by the king, of his own free will. This investigation of Richard II’s use of the prerogative of mercy will, it is hoped, shed new light on the final, tyrannical years of his reign. Historical studies of Richard II’s period of tyranny traditionally date the emergence of this new phase to the summer of 1397. The arrest of the Lords Appellant and the seizure of their property have long been regarded as the first indications of the dramatic appeals and trials that were to follow in the autumn parliament.6 From these high-profile events, historians then move on swiftly to examine the actions of the king once parliament assembled on 17 September. However, even before this assembly convened, Richard had taken action against a number of men who, it seems, were suspected of involvement with the conspiracy of the Lords Appellant. Some of these men were arrested and held in custody, before appearing in front of specially convened meetings of the council. Shortly after their appointments with the council these men then sued for pardon and paid substantial fines to the exche-

5

6

pp. 76–112; T. F. T. Plucknett, ‘Impeachment and Attainder’, TRHS 5th ser. 3 (1953), pp. 145–58; C. M. Barron, ‘The Tyranny of Richard II’, BIHR 41 (1968), pp. 1–18. Walsingham states that the king began to burden his people with great loans, and that the king’s agents made secret inquiries into the wealth of particular citizens, before endorsing blank charters with their names. Given-Wilson, Revolution, p. 71. The author of the continuation of the Eulogium Historiarum refers to individual messages sent out to every bishop, abbot, gentleman and merchant, from whom the king then extorted large sums of money. Given-Wilson, Revolution, p. 65. The constable of the Tower of London was ordered to receive Thomas, earl of Warwick, and to keep him in custody, on 12 July 1397 (CCR 1396–99, p. 140). The arrest of the Lords Appellant was proclaimed on 15 July (CCR 1396–99, p. 208). Orders were sent out on 28 July to the guardians of the peace in Sussex, Surrey, Kent and Essex to arrest those stirring against the imprisonment of Gloucester, Arundel and Warwick (CCR 1396–99, p. 147). Inquests were then made into the property of the earls, and orders for its seizure were sent out after they had been tried and convicted in parliament (CCR 1396–99, pp. 154, 157, 159, 160, 162).

126

Helen Lacey

quer. Their example was followed by other individuals who, whilst not yet summoned before the council, clearly feared that they might be next. Before parliament convened, then, Richard had issued orders to arrest certain men, and to hold them in custody until he sent word to bring them before a specially convened meeting of the council. These men were suspected of involvement with the Lords Appellant and were to be brought before the council to explain their actions. Twenty-nine individuals were arrested in this way, the majority of whom were taken in the first wave of arrests, which occurred between September and November 1397.7 Of these individuals John Cobham is the most well-known because of his eventual conviction and banishment in the Shrewsbury session of parliament.8 However, none of the others were given a public audience in parliament. Seven of them were definitely summoned before the king’s council, all between 30 September and 5 November, at meetings which were perhaps intended to attract little public attention. The allegiance of these seven men was clear: all were prominent associates of the Lords Appellant. John Wiltshire had been a councillor to the earl of Arundel; Thomas Feriby had been the duke of Gloucester’s chancellor since 1394; and Robert Rikedon, Thomas Lampet, William Castleacre, John de Boys and Hugh Grenham were all associates of the duke of Gloucester.9 Whether or not the king and his ministers actually ordered these men to pay fines and to sue out pardons when they were brought before the council, all of them understood the message given. All but Grenham and de Boys immediately sought a copy of the Appellant pardon as soon as it was proclaimed in the opening session of the September parliament. Their names are recorded together, along with eight others, on one membrane of the pardon rolls.10 This membrane is the only one to record any 7

Twenty-two men were arrested between September and November 1397: John Cobham, John Wiltshire, Thomas Feriby, John Aspall, John Lacy, Robert Jugler, Hugh Grenham, Robert Rikedon, John Bullocke, John Catesby, John de Boys, Thomas Lampet, William Castelacre, William Clipstone, John Faunessoun, Thomas Armurer, Richard Armurer, Edward Charleton, John Tracy, Richard Chamberlayn, John Bray, John Bakere. A further seven were arrested between February and May 1398: John Broun, Walter Stywarde, John Saymour, Richard Herefelde, Lawrence Bright, John Fesaunt and William Wetheresfelde. CCR 1396–99, pp. 149, 151, 152, 153, 154, 157, 158, 159, 164, 222, 238, 243, 246, 254, 262; PPC, I, pp. 76–7. 8 Prior to this he had been held in custody at Donnington castle from 8 to 26 September 1397, before being ordered to come into the king’s presence. It seems he was then held prisoner by the duke of Surrey, before finally being brought before parliament on 28 January 1398, and banished for his treasonable activities as a member of the parliamentary commission of 1386. CCR 1396–99, pp. 157, 159, 245; RP, III, pp. 381–2; J. S. Roskell, L. Clark and C. Rawcliffe, The Commons, 1386–1421, History of Parliament (Stroud, 1993), II, pp. 607–8. 9 Their individual summonses to the council are recorded in: CCR 1396–99, pp. 153, 155, 159, 222, 225, 234; PPC, I, pp. 76–7. For details of their careers, see: A. Goodman, The Loyal Conspiracy: The Lords Appellant under Richard II (London, 1971), pp. 94–104; Roskell et al., The Commons, pp. 232–3, 320–1, 874–5. 10 C 67/30, m.3. This class of documents, commonly referred to as the ‘pardon rolls’, is properly termed ‘supplementary letters patent’. All are dated between 18 October and 28 November 1397. The eight other men were: Giles Malory, Nicholas Lilling, Hugh de la Zouche, Thomas Coggeshalle, Richard Monk, John Estephus, Walter Roo and Thomas Walwayn. They were all prominent associates of the Lords Appellant. The king’s warrant for two of these pardons (as writs under the privy seal) survive: John Estephus: C 81/570/11739; John Wilteshire: C 81/570/11745. They also survive for several pardons granted in 1398: John Keleryan, C 81/579/ 12649 (6 February 1398), enrolled on C 67/31, m. 13; John Chapman: C 81/579/12693 (2 March 1399), enrolled on C 67/31, m. 7; John atte Wode: C 81/ 581/12839 (12 April 1399), enrolled on C 67/31, m. 10; John More, C 81/573/12038 (24 April 1398), enrolled on C 67/30, m. 19. Barron comments of these writs that ‘in at least five further cases the chancellor was instructed to issue charters of pardon under the great seal which have not been

‘Mercy and Truth Preserve the King’

127

pardons issued as early as September–November 1397, several weeks before any other such letters were granted. Seven of those so pardoned also paid substantial fines to the exchequer at this time. Their names are listed together on the receipt rolls in an entry dated 4 December 1397, and described as ‘fines made in the presence of the king’s council’.11 Thomas Coggeshalle and Hugh de la Zouche each paid £133 6s 8d; Thomas Feriby £100; Richard Monk £20; Robert Rikedon and Thomas Lampet paid £13 6s 8d each; and Walter Roo £10. While the existence of these fines has been noted before, historians have not recognised that they were paid by a distinct group of men, whose fortunes in the autumn of 1397 can be traced through their individual summonses before the council, their procurement of pardons and their payment of fines, to reveal that Richard had singled them out for special treatment even before he presided over the first session of the Revenge Parliament.12 This is interesting when considered in light of the statement Richard had made on 15 July 1397, proclaiming the arrest of the Lords Appellant. He stated that their arrest was not connected with the uprising of 1387–8 and he assured any associates of Arundel, Gloucester and Warwick that they should not fear ‘impeachment or hurt’ for their part in the rising.13 Despite this reassurance, it seems that associates of the Appellants were right to fear Richard’s future intentions towards them. By early September, the king had already gone back on his word and singled out certain of these men for special treatment. The existence of this distinct group is even more significant in light of the fact that, at the opening of parliament on 17 September, Richard directed his chancellor not only to proclaim a wide-ranging pardon, but also to stipulate that fifty unnamed men would be exempted from its terms. Were these fifty men perhaps the same group that Richard had taken into custody shortly before the opening of parliament? If so, it would seem that the king’s intention was to deny them the amnesty of this comprehensive pardon until he had brought them before the council (which, as we have seen, he did between 30 September and 5 November) and, in many cases, impose on them substantial fines. Whether or not this group of men can be associated with the ‘fifty unnamed persons’ mentioned by the chancellor, they were certainly key targets for Richard’s programme of revenge. Almost all of them went on to purchase yet another letter of pardon in May and June 1398.14 Moreover, their fate lends enrolled’. Barron, ‘Tyranny’, p. 9, n. 1. However, as shown above, all are in fact enrolled on the supplementary patent rolls (see R. Storey, Index to Pardons, unpublished typescript, TNA).

11 E 401/608. From the wording of the entry it therefore appears that Coggeshalle, Monk, de la Zouche

and Roo were also in fact brought before the council, although their individual writs of summons do not survive. Another entry on the same roll records that Thomas fitz Nicole paid £100 on 16 November 1397 ‘pro mora sua penes Ricardum comitem Arundell’, and a further £50 in March 1398. The king also later granted the men of Essex and Hertfordshire a collective pardon, in return for the sum of £2,000, and anyone who refused to contribute his share of what was in effect a huge collective fine was liable to be imprisoned. CPR 1391–6, pp. 311–12; CFR 1391–9, pp. 250–2. Tuck, Nobility, p. 197. 12 Barron, ‘Tyranny’, p. 8; A. Steel, The Receipt of the Exchequer, 1377–1485 (Cambridge, 1954), p. 118. 13 CCR 1396–99, p. 208; Foedera (London, 1704–35), VIII, pp. 6–7. 14 Giles Malory purchased a second pardon on 10 June, C 67/30, m.10; Nicholas Lilling on 16 June, C 67/30, m. 6; Thomas Coggeshalle on 15 May, C 67/30, m. 23; Robert Rikedon on 1 May, C 67/30, m. 25; Thomas Lampet on 10 June, C 67/30, m. 17; Thomas Walwayn on 12 June, C 67/30, m. 15; Richard Monk on 15 June, C 67/30, m. 15; William Castelacre (and Elizabeth his wife) on 6 June, C 67/30, m. 9; Walter Roo on 10 June, C 67/30, m. 13. Two different forms of the pardons were in fact available.

128

Helen Lacey

credence to the charges of ‘unjust fines and exactions’ laid against Richard at his deposition, an issue to which we will return. It must be made clear that not all those arrested between September and November 1397 were immediately brought before the council. Four men were released soon after arrest, following orders from the king.15 In one case it was specified that the individual concerned, one Edward Charleton, was to be set free on certain conditions: he was to pay a fine of 500 marks; to sue with the king for his grace by 21 April 1398; and to remain ready to come before the council if summoned. It was later recorded that Charleton had paid the fine, ‘as the treasurer had borne witness by word of mouth’.16 Some of these men, it seems, were initially allowed to go free without having to come before the council. However, even this decision was soon to be repealed, and a number of individuals initially exempted from attending the council were now summoned before the tribunal. This seems to be the implication of an enigmatic entry into the minutes of an undated council meeting. It states that certain persons, who were initially exempt from attending the council, were now to be ordered to ‘treat with the council’ and, if they failed to cooperate, they were to be imprisoned. It also refers to certain fines to be made by these individuals, which, it states, should be delivered to the treasurer and placed in a special bag (rather than being processed through the official channels of the exchequer). Finally, it stipulates that none were to be present in the council at the exaction of the fines except the chancellor, the treasurer, the keeper of the privy seal, Sir John Bussy, Sir Henry Green and Sir William Bagot.17 The date of this entry is unclear. Tout believed that it could not have been written before the end of 1398, while Caroline Barron dated it to September 1397.18 While its date cannot be determined precisely, it seems likely that this decision in fact relates to an order, issued on 3 April 1398, to twenty-eight named men, who were instructed under pain of a £200 fine, for ‘particular causes specially moving the king and council’, to cease all other activities and to present themselves before the king and council at Westminster on 21 April 1398.19 Included among this list of twenty-eight names were Edward Charleton, who had already been arrested and set free once (see above), and Giles Malory, Hugh de la Zouche, Thomas Coggeshalle, Thomas Walwayn, John Stevens and Richard Waldegrave, all of whom had already purchased pardons or paid fines

15 John Catesby, Edward Charleton, Richard Chamberlayn and John Bray. CCR 1396–99, pp. 157, 159,

16 17

18 19

164. Catesby was steward to the earl of Warwick, and Bray was an associate of the duke of Gloucester. Goodman, Loyal Conspiracy, p. 97; Roskell et al., The Commons, pp. 501–2. CCR 1396–99, p. 286. ‘certains persones exemptz de venir devant le consail du roy au fin quils tretent ovec mesme le counsail et que sur le dit tretee report soit fait au roy et que mesmes les persones soient commys a prisone en cas quils ne purront accorder ovec le dit counsail … Item que les sommes que serront pris des fins des dites persones exemptz soient delivrees au Tresurer Dengleterre et mys en une bagge. Item que cellui soit paient en counsail a la taxacion des fins affaire par les persones exemptz forspris les Chancellor, Tresoror, Garde du prive seel, Monsieur John Bussy, Monsieur Henry Green et Monsieur William Bagot’: PPC, I, pp. 75–6. Barron, ‘Tyranny’, p. 8, n. 1. CCR 1396–99, p. 277. The men summoned were: Hugh de la Zouche, Payn Tiptoft, Edward Charleton, Arnald Savage, Giles Malorye, John Trussell, Richard Waldegrave, Thomas Herlyng, Philip Milstede, David Holbech, Thomas Coggeshalle, Richard Whityngton, Thomas Oldcastell, Thomas Walweyn, John Stevens, John Hende, John Shadworth, Robert Plesyngton, John Harwedoun, John Tauk, John More, John Saymore, William Echyngham, Richard Cralle, John Frome, John Bonham, John Mewe, John Whethales.

‘Mercy and Truth Preserve the King’

129

in October–November 1397.20 The other men summoned to the council on 3 April followed this example and most sued for pardon in April–June 1398.21 Several also paid sizeable fines to the exchequer on 13 July 1398, and these were again recorded as ‘fines paid in the presence of the king’s council’.22 John More, a London mercer, was among those summoned, but, in a pardon of 24 April 1398, he was forgiven a fine of 100 marks which had been imposed on him by the council for having ‘ridden with the condemned lords, contrary to his allegiance’.23 The fate of these men certainly lends credibility to the charges of ‘unjust fines and exactions’ laid against Richard at his deposition, as Caroline Barron concluded in the only previous study to examine these events in any detail.24 Richard clearly forced many of those who supported the Appellant uprising to sue for pardon, despite his earlier assurance that they would not have to do so. A large proportion of these men were also forced to pay fines far higher than the standard charge for a pardon, which stood at 18s 4d, and many, it seems, had to purchase more than one of these letters patent before they were in any sense reconciled with the regime.25 This last point, that many of the Appellant supporters were purchasing more than one pardon, warrants a closer examination of the general pardons proclaimed in parliament. Historians who have examined the proceedings of the Revenge Parliament often note that, in his opening address delivered on 17 September, the chancellor declared that a general pardon would be available to all who sought the king’s grace (with the exception of the fifty unnamed men). However, there is in fact some uncertainty over the content of Bishop Stafford’s speech.26 According to the parliament rolls, Stafford made the point that if the king’s subjects were duly obedient and upheld the king’s prerogative powers and laws, they would ultimately reap the reward. To demonstrate this, and to strengthen his subjects’ goodwill towards him, Richard intended to bestow on them a grant of general pardon as evidence of his gracious mercy (with the proviso that certain individuals would be excluded). Adam of Usk’s report, on the other hand, says nothing of a generous bestowal of grace, but instead reports that the king declared his intention to pardon all those who had schemed to undermine his power and regality.27 This was clearly a reference to the 20 C 67/30, m. 3; E 401/608. 21 Payn Tiptoft, 30 April 1398, C 67/30, m. 2; Edward Charleton, 20 May 1398, C 67/30, m. 23; Giles

22

23

24 25 26 27

Malorye,18 October 1397, 10 June 1398, C 67/30, mm. 3, 10; John Trussell, 27 April 1398, 5 June 1398, C 67/30, mm. 3, 18; Richard Waldegrave, 12 June 1398, C 67/30, m. 15; Thomas Coggeshalle, 7 November 1397, 15 May 1398, C 67/30, mm. 3, 23; Thomas Oldcastell, 14 June 1398, C 67/30, m. 14; Thomas Walweyn, 18 November 1397, 12 June 1398, C 67/30, mm. 3, 15; John Hende, 10 June 1398, C 67/30, mm. 14, 15 (possibly also 3 September 1398, C 67/31, m. 7); John Harwedoun, 12 June 1398, C 67/30, m. 12; John More 21 May 1398, C 67/30, m. 19; William Echyngham, 5 May 1398, C 67/30, m. 3; Richard Cralle, 15 June 1398, C 67/30, m. 15; John Bonham, 17 May 1398, C 67/30, m. 19. E 401/609. John Frome paid £66 13s 4d; William Echyngham £33 6s 8d; Edward Charleton £266 13s 4d; John Seymour £33 6s 8d; Richard Crowe [Cralle] ‘nuper de retencione comitis Arundell’ £13 6s 8d; David Holbech £100. C 81/573/12038; C 67/30, m. 19. Caroline Barron connects John More’s pardon with the plan to summon the previously exempted persons before the council (PPC, I, pp. 75–6), but does not connect the 27 other men, who were mentioned in the summons of 3 April (CCR 1396–9, p. 277). Barron, ‘Tyranny’, p. 8 and n. 2. Barron, ‘Tyranny’, pp. 6–9. RP, III, p. 418, articles 23 and 24. The standard charge for a pardon was 16s 4d, though a further fee of 2s was usually payable to the chancellor. RP, III, p. 347. Usk, ed. Given-Wilson, p. 21.

130

Helen Lacey

actions of the Lords Appellant. According to Usk, then, this was not a generous bestowal of grace to all the king’s subjects for any past misdeeds. It was instead only intended to cover the offences committed in fighting for the Appellant cause in 1388.28 This version of events is supported by the rubric of the supplementary patent rolls. It records a copy of the letter patent issued to the group of men who sued out pardons in October and November 1397 (discussed above). This letter of pardon is clearly concerned only with offences committed in riding with the Lords Appellant, and does not grant pardon in any more general sense: we have pardoned by our special grace [name of recipient] the suit of our peace and that which relates to us against himself in the matter of the said commission and the same, congregating, rebelling, riding, committing depredations, imprisoning, killing and arson by himself in the company of the said duke and earls.29 According to the supplementary patent rolls, a further 583 people obtained a copy of this pardon for their association with the Appellants between January 1398 and September 1399.30 This first declaration of pardon, then, seems to have been aimed solely at forcing those implicated in the Appellant uprising to make themselves known to the king and seek his grace. The desire to secure such a pardon was clearly heightened by the secrecy surrounding the list of exempted persons. Although the chancellor had said that the king would name these people in parliament, no list was forthcoming. The Commons remained anxious to hear the names, and their Speaker, Sir John Bussy, went as far as to protest against the secrecy surrounding these exempted persons.31 If, as suggested above, Richard intended this exemption to apply to the group of men he had recently taken into custody, there was an obvious reason for such subterfuge. It was clear that the king did not intend to adopt the conciliatory tone of previous general pardons, but rather to manipulate the pardon into a tool of intimidation with which to highlight the guilt of the former Appellants and their adherents.32 It was not until the Shrewsbury session of parliament that the king consented to grant a general pardon to all his subjects, for any misdeeds committed before 31 January 1398, and not just those concerning the Appellant revolt.33 It was also made 28 The need to sue for a pardon after the 1397 parliament, but before the beginning of the 1398 session,

29

30 31 32 33

was widely known. See the warrant for a letter patent sent by the king to the chancellor under the privy seal: C 81/571/11819. The king sent this letter from Coventry on 1 January 1398. It orders that the chancellor send letters to the sheriffs of England to publicly proclaim that those seeking such pardons were to do so by the feast of the Nativity of John the Baptist (24 June). However, the warrant does not shed further light on whether this was a general pardon, or a pardon only to those associated with the Appellants. ‘Nos volentes ex regia nostra benignitate graciam facere in hac parte de gracia nostra speciali pardonavimus Egidio de Malorre chivalier sectam pacis nostre et id quod ad nos versus ipsum pertinet occasione dicte comissionis et exercisii euisdem ac congregacionis insurrecctionis equitataciones depredacionis imprisonamenti interfecionis et arsure per ipsum in comitiva predicoram ducis et comitum’: C 67/30, m. 3. There are 596 pardons to Appellants: C 67/30, mm. 19 (42 names), 4 (3), 3 (99), 2 (124), 1 (117); C 67/31, mm. 13 (53), 12 (133), 4 (2), 2 (23). Usk, ed. Given-Wilson, p. 25. SR, I, pp. 396–8; RP, II, p. 364; RP, III, p. 102; SR, II, pp. 20, 29–30. This still excluded certain individuals. RP, III, p. 369 (77); SR, II, pp. 106–7. The names of the recipi-

‘Mercy and Truth Preserve the King’

131

conditional on the grant of a wool subsidy.34 The representatives duly agreed to give their consent and handed over the customs revenue for life to the king, a grant which had the potential to weaken their bargaining power in future negotiations with the crown. However, their generosity was rewarded with a pardon which still excluded those who had rebelled against Richard in 1388. These men, although unnamed, were to sue for pardon individually. The take-up of this pardon was far greater than for any previous amnesty. Over four thousand pardons were issued in total, almost double the number granted in 1377 to celebrate Edward III’s jubilee year.35 Clearly, the anxiety generated by Richard’s use of the pardon allowed the king to discover who his enemies were, and enabled the exchequer to profit from their insecurity. This article has so far sought to demonstrate that the royal pardon played a central role in Richard’s opening moves against the supporters of the Appellants in the autumn of 1397. With these events properly elucidated it also becomes clear that the declarations of pardon made in the Revenge Parliament were not simply isolated gestures of grace. They were in fact part of a comprehensive scheme to use the prerogative of mercy to force political opponents to answer for their actions. Richard’s use of the prerogative did not end here, however. Once the trials of Arundel and Warwick commenced in the first session of parliament, the very definition of royal pardon and mercy came under intense scrutiny. Richard wanted to make clear to all that the pardons he had granted the Lords Appellant in 1388 had been extorted from him under duress, and could not, therefore, be allowed to stand. Conversely, Arundel and Warwick both defended themselves from the charges laid against them on the basis of these pardons. The exact definition of royal grace therefore came to play a crucial role at the forefront of national politics. What follows is an examination of the concept of pardoning articulated in the trials of Arundel and Warwick. What must be emphasised is the fact that, in using arguments surrounding the prerogative of mercy against the two lords, Richard was pursuing a course of action that he had, in fact, initiated in the first arrests of autumn 1397 and had consistently used against his political opponents thereafter. In essence, the key issue in the trials of Arundel and Warwick was the validity of the amnesties that Richard had granted them in 1388. Immediately after the Lords Appellant had been formally accused of treason, parliament took the step of revoking the 1388 pardon.36 However, the earl of Arundel challenged the fundamental legality of such an annulment, and based his entire defence on the argument that he could not be tried for misdeeds which the king had already pardoned.37 He

34 35 36

37

ents are recorded on the supplementary patent rolls C 67/30, mm. 5–18, 20–34; C 67/31, mm. 1, 3, 5–11. The practice of issuing two forms of pardon followed the procedure instigated in 1377: the ‘great form’ was issued to those who instigated the challenge to government in the Good Parliament, while the shorter form was made available to anyone who wished to purchase an amnesty for a vast array of offences. A few had their pardons duplicated in the patent roll and pardon rolls: e.g. Sir William Bagot: C 67/31, m. 13. A few were only entered into the patent roll and not the pardon roll, and at least five others received pardons which have not been enrolled, the chancellor being instructed to issue them under the great seal: C 81/570/11739, 11745; C 81/579/ 12649, 12693; C 81/ 581/ 12839. RP, II, p. 364 (19), p. 365; SR, II, pp. 106–7. The general pardon of December 1414 was also conceded in return for a tax subsidy. RP, II, pp. 361–2. RP, III, pp. 350–1. All the members of the 1386 commission except Gloucester, Arundel and Warwick, and the archbishop, were, however, immediately exempted from the revocation of the pardon. Tuck, Nobility, p. 188. Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 58–9.

132

Helen Lacey

claimed that his pardons were still valid because they had been granted by the king within the last six years, when he was of full age and free to act as he wished. Richard himself countered this with the assertion that he had granted mercy provided that it was not to his prejudice. John of Gaunt, presiding over the trial as steward of England, introduced a different interpretation of the pardon by asking the earl why, if he was innocent of treason, had he sought a pardon at all. To this Arundel is reported to have responded with the famous remark: ‘To silence the tongues of my enemies, of whom you are one, and to be sure, when it comes to treason, you are in greater need of a pardon than I am’.38 Arundel’s defiant stance failed to sway his judges, and, convicted of treason, he was taken to Tower Hill for execution. These proceedings serve to give some insight into the way in which the king’s pardon was perceived to operate in later medieval England. The legality of revoking a pardon was fundamental to Arundel’s trial, but was also part of a wider discourse on the nature of the prerogative of mercy and the king’s use of it, which persisted throughout the later Middle Ages.39 The earl’s case rested on the fact that the pardons which Richard had granted him in 1388 and 1394 were still valid. To support this claim, he made the point that Richard had not been coerced into granting them, and in 1394 had been ‘of full age and free to act as he wished’. Indeed, Arundel argued, he put no pressure on the king for a pardon, and knew nothing of it until the king gave it to him of his free will. The crown’s case, on the other hand, relied on the standard get-out clause that any act which proved prejudicial to the monarch could be revoked. The same logic had been used in 1377 to justify the repeal of the acts of the Good Parliament, for example.40 The Speaker of the Commons, Sir John Bussy, clearly thought that the assent of the Lords and the Commons had added an extra air of legality to the revocation of the pardon. Ultimately, however, by claiming that he had been forced into granting the pardon, Richard could revoke it on his own authority. This certainly demonstrates the extent to which a grant of pardon was dependent on the king’s prerogative and good will, although the charges made against Richard at his deposition made it clear that 38 Given-Wilson states that the descriptions of the trials of Arundel and Warwick, given by Adam Usk

and by the Monk of Evesham, were probably based on a tract written by a clerk of the royal chancery present at the proceedings. Their accounts are confirmed by the Rolls of Parliament. Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 58–9; Usk, ed. Given-Wilson, pp. 28–35; RP, III, pp. 350–2. See also: C. GivenWilson, ‘Adam Usk, the Monk of Evesham, and the Parliament of 1397–8’, Historical Research 66 (1993), pp. 329–35. 39 The most comprehensive study of the royal pardon to date is still N. D. Hurnard, The King’s Pardon for Homicide before A.D. 1307 (Oxford, 1969). Several historians have since supported Hurnard’s negative view of pardoning: E. G. Kimball, ed., The Shropshire Peace Roll, 1400–1414 (Shrewsbury, 1959), pp. 43–5; H. J. Hewitt, The Organisation of War under Edward III (Manchester, 1966); G. L. Harriss, King, Parliament and Public Finance in Medieval England to 1369 (Oxford, 1975); R. W. Kaeuper, War, Justice and Public Order: England and France in the Later Middle Ages (Oxford, 1988), pp. 126–7. A revised approach has more recently been proposed by historians studying the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, who argue that the concept of pardoning deserves to be examined in the light of political and legal culture. E. Powell, Kingship, Law and Society: Criminal Justice in the Reign of Henry V (Oxford, 1989); idem, ‘The Restoration of Law and Order’, Henry V: The Practice of Kingship, ed. G. L. Harriss (Oxford, 1985), pp. 53–74; K. J. Kesselring, Mercy and Authority in the Tudor State (Cambridge, 2003). Powell’s approach is endorsed by A. Musson and W. M. Ormrod, The Evolution of English Justice: Law, Politics and Society in the Fourteenth Century (Basingstoke, 1999), p. 82. 40 RP, II, pp. 361–2; W. M. Ormrod, The Reign of Edward III (Stroud, 2000), pp. 44–5; W. M. Ormrod, ‘ “Fifty Glorious Years”: Edward III and the First English Royal Jubilee’, Medieval History new ser. 1 (2002), pp. 13–20.

‘Mercy and Truth Preserve the King’

133

misuse of this power would certainly provoke resentment.41 Arundel’s point about Richard’s age at the time the pardons were granted, however, was hard to dispute. The earl stressed that the king had attained his majority by the time he granted him a pardon in 1394. Richard had indeed declared himself of age five years before, on 3 May 1389. Interestingly, however, Richard had still technically been a minor during the Merciless Parliament of 1388. At this assembly the Appellants had emphasised Richard’s youth and the evil counsel which had led him astray. Yet they had still recognised his authority to grant them an amnesty for their actions.42 It was clear that to some extent the Appellants wanted the best of both worlds: to claim that Richard’s youth had laid him open to manipulation; but also to assert that he could grant them a pardon of his own free will. The age at which a monarch could exercise his prerogative powers was not clearly defined. As a ten year old at his accession, Richard II had always exercised the power to grant mercy under the authority of the privy seal. However, when the infant Henry VI acceded to the throne the use of the prerogative of mercy fell into abeyance. Interestingly, one of Henry’s first acts on coming of age was to issue a general pardon, at the request of the parliamentary Commons, suggesting perhaps that the ability to grant mercy was widely regarded as a power which rested on the decision of an adult monarch.43 Since pardon was a royal prerogative, it was clearly important that it should be issued by the king himself, as a personal contract between recipient and monarch. It is clear that the king’s subjects valued their right to appeal to the monarch himself for mercy. The king could give a verdict informed by notions of equity and conscience which took into account the extenuating circumstances surrounding a particular case, in a way that the royal justices, acting within the bounds of the common law, could not. The possibility of obtaining grace was theoretically available to any of the king’s subjects and this was clearly an important provision. A petition of a suspected Lollard to Henry VI, for example, expresses such a view in the request to sue to the king alone ‘in your own solemn proper person without any other judge’.44 In essence the appeal to the prerogative was seen to be fundamental to upholding the integrity of the law, and the development of procedures and channels of access to such hearings was a response to the basic requirement of royal government to provide effective justice. The idea of being able to petition the king (usually via the chancellor) for grace was integral to late medieval notions of justice. Even when negative views were expressed about certain aspects of pardoning, they were predicated on an underlying notion of the value of the prerogative of mercy. A common petition of 1353 exemplifies this in putting forward the familiar complaint that known felons were receiving pardons, but adding the important proviso that the king’s grace should always be open, as it had been previously, to those who deserved it.45 Again in the wake of the Peasants’ Revolt the parliamentary Commons maintained that the recently issued general pardon should be open to 41 The revocation of the pardon which the king issued to the Lords Appellant in 1388 is given in

Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 173–4.

42 SR, II, pp. 47–8; Knighton’s Chronicle, 1337–1394, ed. G. H. Martin (Oxford, 1995), pp. 504–5; The

Westminster Chronicle 1381–1394, ed. L. C. Hector and B. F. Harvey (Oxford, 1982), pp. 296–306; Usk, ed. Given-Wilson, pp. 9–10. See also: Goodman, Loyal Conspiracy, pp. 36–41; J. L. Leland, ‘Unpardonable Sinners’, Medieval Prosopography 17 (1996), pp. 181–95. 43 On 27 March 1437. R. L. Storey, The End of the House of Lancaster, new edn (Gloucester, 1986), p. 213. 44 Cited in: J. Watts, Henry VI and the Politics of Kingship (Cambridge, 1996), p. 79. 45 RP, II, p. 253 (41). See also SR, I, p. 330.

134

Helen Lacey

all, regardless of their ability to pay, and the king conceded to their request.46 The popularity of such methods of appeal and much of the literary discourse on the issue testifies to the idea that decisions of grace gave the petitioner a chance to seek redress for injustices committed in the royal courts. The persistence of local mitigation, and the role of the men who served on trial juries in recommending mercy, makes it clear that discretion still played an active role at all levels of the legal process. Similarly, the development of ideas of equity in the court of chancery shows that such ideas were thought to have a legitimate future in the royal judicial system.47 Returning to the proceedings against the Appellants in the Revenge Parliament of 1397, Gaunt’s question to Arundel about why he had sought pardon if he was in fact innocent raises a further point about the understanding of the king’s pardon: the issue of whether or not it necessarily implied guilt. In this period a pardon could be sued out before trial, and pleaded by the suspect on his arraignment before the justices.48 If this was the case the recipient would not actually have been convicted before the king’s courts. Indeed, an individual innocent of the charges against them might seek pardon in order to avoid relying on the justices to reach a favourable verdict, and to save themselves the considerable expenses that might be incurred during the trial procedure. It is clear, however, that high-profile grants of mercy often served to emphasise the guilt of the recipient, while at the same time reconciling them with government. The amnesty granted to the Ordainers on 16 October 1313, for example, after their execution of Piers Gaveston, is a case in point. The uncertainty surrounding the legal status of Gaveston at the time of his death meant that it was important for Edward II to lay the blame squarely at the feet of the Ordainers in the terms of their pardon.49 The earls wished to reject the pardon, reasoning that an acceptance would be tantamount to admitting that their actions had been illegal.50 Examples of intended recipients rejecting pardon are rare, but it 46 RP, III, p. 139. 47 T. Haskett, ‘The Medieval English Court of Chancery’, Law and History Review 14 (1996), pp.

246–80, 310–11; T. S. Haskett, ‘Conscience, Justice and Authority in the Late-Medieval English Court of Chancery’, in Expectations of the Law in the Middle Ages, ed. A. Musson (Woodbridge, 2001), p. 159. The monarch could also draw on such notions to waive the fees normally charged for dispensations of grace in letters patent and charters, if the poverty of the petitioner threatened to deny them access. On such occasions the engrossments on the chancery rolls say that they were given ‘for God’, as an act of charity, e.g: RP, III, p. 372; CPR 1327–1330, p. 308; CPR 1343–1345, p. 571. For further discussion see B. Wilkinson, The Chancery under Edward III (Manchester, 1929), p. 60; J. C. Davies, ‘Common Law Writs and Returns, Richard I to Richard II’, BIHR 26 (1953), pp. 140–41; J. H. Baker, An Introduction to English Legal History, 3rd edn (London, 1990), pp. 63–110; Musson and Ormrod, Evolution, pp. 14–15; N. Doe, Fundamental Authority in Late Medieval English Law (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 4–5, 177. Green comments that a discretionary judgement from the jury was ‘A verdict rendered according to conscience and reflecting the jury’s conception of just deserts’; it was ‘divine in the sense that it was beyond judicial reproach’. T. A. Green, Verdict According to Conscience: Perspectives on the English Criminal Trial Jury 1200–1800 (Chicago, 1985), p. 20. 48 The ability to obtain pardon before arraignment was somewhat controversial, and was finally outlawed in the Tudor period. See J. Bellamy, The Criminal Trial in Later Medieval England (Stroud, 1998), pp. 137–8; Hurnard, King’s Pardon, pp. 31–67. 49 If the Ordinances were still in force, Gaveston was an outlaw and a traitor. While Edward had reluctantly agreed to the Ordinances in the parliament of August 1311, however, he maintained that on 18 January 1312 the exile of Gaveston had been proclaimed contrary to the law of the kingdom. The Ordinances are published in RP, I, pp. 281–6 and SR, I, pp. 157–67. The writs for the restoration of Gaveston’s lands and castles are printed in Foedera, II, pp. 153–4. 50 ‘if the king orders that no-one henceforth harass anyone, at his suit or that of any other person, for the

‘Mercy and Truth Preserve the King’

135

is clear that under these circumstances acceptance brought with it the implication of guilt. Gaunt clearly felt Arundel’s acceptance of a pardon carried with it similar connotations. Richard had clearly abused his power to pardon by using it as a tool of accusation and incrimination. However, in avoiding a repetition of the violence shown to the royal favourites in 1388, the king was able to show himself capable of mercy.51 In the earl of Warwick’s case, in particular, Richard was able to exercise clemency because of the earl’s willingness to admit his guilt and throw himself on the king’s mercy. Warwick’s ostentatious display of contrition gave the king the opportunity to pardon the earl with no loss of face. Throughout the whole series of measures Richard initiated against the Appellants and their supporters, from the first arrests and council meetings of autumn 1397 to the trials of Warwick and Arundel, and the reissue of the general pardon in 1398, the king used the prerogative of mercy as a tool with which to manipulate his political opponents. He subverted the traditional uses of pardon, and proved that his grants of mercy were not to be relied upon. Nevertheless, it must be noted that throughout the fifteenth century these grants of royal mercy were once again used as symbolic acts of political reconciliation. On one level these acts of clemency can be seen as a pragmatic concession by the crown – an acknowledgement of its inability to enforce all the judicial penalties it prescribed.52 But they can also be seen as an important representation of the crown’s responsibility to reconcile its subjects to its authority. Despite Richard’s misuse of the prerogative, the general pardon remained at the heart of the crown’s judicial policy, as one of the important acts of individual and corporate mercy that became a trademark of English politics in the later Middle Ages.

capture and death of Piers Gaveston, expressed in those terms, therefore it will be noted by the hearers that lord Piers was a man under law. And thus it will be supposed and can be concluded against them that they are homicides, which stain or infamy they wish to avoid by all means, as people who lawfully and justly did what they did to the said Piers, as to an enemy of the king and of the realm and, as has been said before, an exile.’ Vatican Archive: Instrumenta Miscellanea, no. 5947. See: E. A. Roberts, ‘Edward II, the Ordainers and Piers Gaveston’s Jewels and Horses, 1312–1313’, Camden Miscellany 15 (1929), p. 16. The nuncios were Cardinal Arnaud Novelli and Cardinal Arnald de Auxio. Walsingham recorded that a final agreement was made at the parliament in London, and the barons agreed to ask pardon of the king. In return the king received them into his ‘grace and firm peace’: Thomas Walsingham, Historia Anglicana 1272–1422, ed. H. T. Riley, 2 vols, Rolls Series (London, 1863–4), I, p. 136. Two days after their apology pardons were issued to some 500 lesser offenders, a high proportion of whom were Lancastrian dependants, in terms which contained no reference to the Ordinances. Their names are printed in Foedera, II, p. 230. N. Fryde contends that the magnates demanded pardon from Edward: N. Fryde, The Tyranny and Fall of Edward II (Cambridge, 1979), p. 23. 51 Tuck, Nobility, p. 190; Given-Wilson, Revolution, p. 17. 52 Hurnard, King’s Pardon, p. vii.

Aliens in the Pardons of Richard II

ALIENS IN THE PARDONS OF RICHARD II John L. Leland R. R. Davies, in his 1994 presidential address to the Royal History Society, began by saying that ‘Peoples are back on the historian’s agenda’.1 In his 1996 address, however, he went on to say that ‘a people … is a most evanescent and elusive concept; it lacks fixed form and geographical definition. This is precisely where law could be helpful: it helped establish the identity of a people in its own eyes and those of others.’2 Davies here was thinking primarily of the claim of a people to possess a unique body of law and custom as an identifying characteristic, but it is also true that the way a people’s legal system dealt with those who might be defined as aliens, as non-members of that people yet at least temporarily amenable to that system of law, can be studied as a useful means of gaining insight into how a people reacted to the strangers in their midst. These reactions are often seen as negative. Anthony Goodman vividly expressed this view in summing up English attitudes at the end of the Middle Ages: ‘An English sense of racial superiority is reflected in denigration of England’s neighbors. For the Welsh, restricted by statutes enacted in reaction of Glyn Dwr’s rebellion’ (and before), ‘for the Gaelic Irish, stigmatized as barbarous, for the Anglo-Irish, accused of degeneracy, and for the Scots, some regarded as savage and others as generally inferior and faithless simulacra of the English, the rise of English national sentiment strengthened their own varied senses of nationality’.3 Similar attitudes of mutual hostility have also been seen between the English and their other neighbors, particularly, of course, the French with whom they were so long at war in this era. Even Queen Anne’s Bohemian entourage was resented; it was said they ‘fed off the fat of the land, forgetful of their own country, and though only guests, they were shamelessly and grimly unwilling to return home’ until they were compelled to do so.4 But although these prejudices were manifested in certain aspects of the legal system of the time, by no means all encounters between the English and those they defined as alien to varying degrees were so uniformly hostile, as can be seen by studying the references to aliens in the pardons of Richard II. While compiling a data base of all pardons granted by Richard II during his reign, it was possible to identify 203 of these pardons which referred in some way to

1 2 3 4

R. R. Davies, ‘The Peoples of Britain and Ireland, 1100–1400, I: Identities’, TRHS 6th ser. 4 (1994), p. 1. R. R. Davies, ‘The Peoples of Britain and Ireland, 1100–1400, III: Laws and Customs’, TRHS 6th ser. 6 (1996), p. 4 A. Goodman, ‘Kingship and Government’, in The Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries, ed. R. Griffiths (Oxford, 2003), p. 215. The St. Albans Chronicle: The Chronica Maiora of Thomas Walsingham, ed. J. Taylor, W. R. Childs and L. Watkins (Oxford, 2003), I, p. 737; L. C. Hector and B. F. Harvey, eds, The Westminster Chronicle, 1381–1394 (Oxford, 1982), pp. 274–5.

Aliens in the Pardons of Richard II

137

aliens. These were the cases in which the aliens were most obviously identifiable as such on the basis of the data given in the pardons themselves; additional cases might be identified by further research. Analyzing this body of data permits some conclusions about the attitudes of the English people and their government towards foreigners in the late fourteenth century. Some of these pardons were granted for crimes by foreigners, others for crimes against foreigners; there were also a few pardons granted at the supplication of foreign dignitaries, and some for not appearing to pay debts owed by or to foreigners. Before analyzing these types in more detail, it is necessary to first define ‘foreigners’ as understood in the England of the time. For the purposes of this paper, foreigners are defined as including groups who would probably have been regarded as alien by most English people of the day, even though some of them were actually or nominally under the English crown. Thus in addition to those who were unequivocally foreign – subjects of lands unquestionably independent of England, such as Italians, Germans, Spaniards and Portuguese, there were also those in lands over which England might make intermittent claims, such as Scots and Flemings and French, and people from territories which were (at that time) definitely under the English crown, such as Ireland, Wales, and Gascony. Even within this last category, much of Ireland was effectively autonomous, and some Gascon border lords were extremely unstable in their allegiance. Wales (as may be seen below) may have been the most assimilated of these territories, but it largely retained its own language (reflected in the records by an easily recognized pattern of nomenclature), and with historical hindsight it is now known to have been on the verge of the great Glendower revolt which briefly severed most ties between England and Wales in the reign of Richard’s successor Henry IV. Sylvia Thrupp found that fifteenth-century English juries required to identify ‘aliens’ living amongst them as liable for a tax on aliens sometimes identified Welsh and Irish, and French from the English possessions in France, as aliens, even though legally they were subjects of the English crown, and the laws which created the alien liability granted various exemptions: supposedly Welsh were always exempt, Irish were made exempt shortly after the tax was created, and those from the French possessions of the English crown (now rapidly being lost) were later exempted. These juries also seem to have attempted to define some foreign-born persons as ‘aliens’ for tax purposes, even though they had secured letters of denizenation or had otherwise pledged their loyalty to the crown.5 R. R. Davies, in his 1995 lecture spoke of ‘the growing requirement that Welshmen and Irishmen should secure letters of denizenship in order to enjoy the privileges of Englishness and that the Irish immigrants in England be treated as aliens’.6 However, Ralph Griffiths, whose 1986 study Davies cites in this regard, presented a more nuanced picture in 2003, pointing out that some Welsh and Irish in Bristol and other western towns might achieve acceptance, and even the mayoralty, though elsewhere in England they might still be regarded as exotic strangers.7

5 6

7

S. L. Thrupp, ‘Aliens in and around London in the Fifteenth Century’, in Studies in London History, ed. A. E. J. Hollaender and W. Kellaway (London, 1969), p. 254. R. R. Davies, ‘The Peoples of Britain and Ireland, 1100–1400, II: Names, Boundaries and Regnal Solidarities’, TRHS 6th ser. 5 (1995), p. 20 and n. 76, citing R. A. Griffiths, ‘The English Realm and Dominions and the King’s Subjects in the Later Middle Ages’, in Aspects of Later Medieval Government and Society, ed. J. G. Rowe (Toronto, 1986), pp. 83–105. R. Griffiths, ed., The Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries, pp. 3, 24–5.

138

John L. Leland

After defining the nationalities to be included comes the much more difficult problem of determining which people in the records belonged to those nationalities. For a fairly small number of these people, the identification is unequivocal. Such obvious foreigners might be described as ‘Lewis Wykke, Fleming’ or ‘Andrew van Ostrich of Almain’ (Germany). Other foreigners might be identified by the form of their names. Vanessa Harding identified merchants from the Low Countries in London customs records by Christian names such as Arnald, Dederik, and Clays, and by surnames beginning with van- or ending with -esson.8 The distinctive patronymic ‘ap’ identifies many Welsh men, and in at least one case the female equivalent ‘verch’ identifies a Welsh woman. With less certainty foreigners may be identified by surnames such as ‘Scot’, ‘Walsh’, ‘French’ or the like. This should not be relied on too heavily. On the whole, those with names in the forms ‘Irishman’ or ‘Welshman’ or ‘Frenchman’ seem more likely to be actual first generation resident foreigners, while some of the other surnames such as ‘Scot’ and ‘Walsh’ may apply to families who had already been in England for generations, and may not have perceived themselves, or been perceived by their neighbors, as anything but English, e.g. John Walsche, knight of the county of Lincoln.9 However, for the broad purposes of this survey, persons with such names have been included as presumably having once been of foreign stock, though with the full recognition that more detailed investigation would probably not justify including some of these individuals in the category of aliens. Conversely, by no means all aliens had obviously foreign surnames. As Bolton said of Thrupp’s use of surname evidence, ‘When an alien is called Frenyssh or Iryssh, then an identification is possible. But most were called White or Brown or Tailor or Shoemaker.’10 This may well be true, but there is no reason to suppose that aliens with these less obviously identifiable names were treated differently in the courts, so the identifiable sample is still worth studying. The importance of these definitions to the interpretation of the data in this survey is immediately apparent, since the Welsh, who were culturally but not politically separate, formed easily the largest identifiable national group, comprising 69 out of the 203 cases considered, or roughly 30% of the total.11 Clearly, if they were not included in the category of foreigners, the overall results would be substantially different. After the Welsh, the remaining national groups fall into two approximate size categories. One category is nationalities represented by approximately 20 cases each. In diminishing order, these were the Flemings with 27 cases,12 the French with

8

V. Harding, ‘Cross-channel Trade and Cultural Contacts: London and the Low Countries in the Later Fourteenth Century’, in England and the Low Countries in the Late Middle Ages, ed. C. Barron and N. Saul (New York, 1995), pp.153–68, especially pp. 161–3. 9 CPR 1385–89, p. 420. 10 J. L. Bolton, The Alien Communities of London in the Fifteenth Century (Stamford, 1998), p. 7. 11 Welsh: CPR 1377–81, pp. 393, 444, 587, 609, 621; CPR 1381–85, pp. 15, 33, 34, 102, 107, 271, 309, 373, 381, 454 (2), 487; CPR 1385–89, pp. 74, 113, 151, 157, 420, 430, 474, 517; CPR 1388–92, pp. 19, 93, 100–1, 102, 123, 154, 168, 182, 240, 245, 299, 301, 394, 399, 503; CPR 1391–96, pp. 2, 19, 21, 200, 201, 207, 259, 317, 325, 351, 385, 468, 480, 491 (2), 597, 599, 668, 673, 681; CPR 1396–99, pp. 38, 88, 144, 146, 273, 296, 297, 332, 453. 12 Flemish: CPR 1377–81, pp. 180, 227, 276, 340, 341, 366, 539; CPR 1381–85, p. 384; CPR 1385–89, pp. 104, 131, 134, 250; CPR 1388–92, pp.181, 389; CPR 1391–96, pp. 104, 222, 257, 306, 348, 478, 491, 709; CPR 1396–99, pp. 33, 44, 78,117, 153.

Aliens in the Pardons of Richard II

139

26,13 the Irish with 21,14 the Scots with 1915 and the Italians with 16,16 the last being on the borderline of the size category. The second category included smaller numbers, with 8 Germans,17 7 Gascons,18 5 Spanish,19 5 Portuguese20 and three unspecified ‘foreigners’.21 There was also an ambiguous group of four cases of persons identified as ‘Duche’,22 who might be ‘Dutch’ in the modern sense or might belong with the Flemings or with the Germans. In the next century, according to Sylvia Thrupp, ‘Doche’ was to become the name for one of the largest groups of foreigners – nearly 90% in London in some fifteenth-century records. This group seems to have been primarily Dutch in the modern sense, though some were from what would now be Belgium or Germany,23 but in the fourteenth century the term ‘Doche’ seems to have been much less widely used. Sponsler’s statement that ‘Dutchmen’ was ‘a generic term often applied to anyone from outside England’ may have some truth in the fifteenth century, but not in these records from Richard II’s reign.24 Given the general numerical preponderance of Flemings in this era, it seems likely that some of these fourteenth-century ‘Doche’ were Flemings. It should be noted that this study (following what seems to have been the practice of the time), groups persons from the Low Countries in general as Flemings, though some might be from Brabant or other territories outside Flanders proper, for example ‘John Leveyne “Flemmyng” alias “of Brabant” ’.25 Examining these categories in more detail permits the intersections of the categories of nationality with those of the types of activity recorded in the pardons. Thus it can be said that of the 69 Welsh cases, 34 were cases in which the Welsh appeared exclusively as criminals;26 most of these were pardons granted to Welsh persons for their crimes, though a few were pardons granted to jailers for the escape of Welsh convicts. Only about half as many cases (seventeen) involved the Welsh exclusively as victims – that is, pardons granted to English criminals for crimes against Welsh 13 French: CPR 1377–81, pp. 54, 105, 136, 365, 371, 611; CPR 1385–89, pp. 237, 420, 477; CPR

14

15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

1388–92, pp. 364, 382, 407, 420; CPR 1391–96, pp. 18, 299, 325, 332, 346, 399, 466, 512, 601, 703; CPR 1396–99, pp. 23, 64, 73. Irish: CPR 1377–81, pp. 186, 346, 456, 546; CPR 1381–85, p. 267; CPR 1385–89, pp. 225, 429, 513, 537, 539; CPR 1388–92, pp. 29, 118, 412; CPR 1391–96, pp. 103, 375, 550, 645, 715; CPR 1396–99, pp. 77, 340, 378. Scots: CPR 1377–81, pp. 86, 112, 259, 367; CPR 1385–89, pp. 71, 113; CPR 1388–92, pp. 44, 205, 316, 477; CPR 1391–96, pp. 299, 332, 620, 711; CPR 1396–99, pp. 35, 133, 134, 301, 393. Italians: CPR 1377–81, pp. 316 (2), 365; CPR 1385–89:30, pp. 44,133, 333 (2), 334, 501; CPR 1388–92, pp. 70, 313; CPR 1391–96, pp. 15, 227, 282, 675. Germans: CPR 1377–81, p. 324; CPR 1385–89, p. 78; CPR 1388–92, pp. 281, 291; CPR 1391–96, pp. 203, 251, 504, 675. Gascons: CPR 1377–81, p. 32; CPR 1385–89, p. 271; CPR 1388–92, pp. 92–3, 313; CPR 1391–96, p. 280; CPR 1396–99, pp. 184, 298. Spanish: CPR 1385–89, pp. 158, 512; CPR 1388–92, pp. 43, 47, 299; CPR 1391–96, pp. 104, 105. Portuguese: CPR 1385–89, p. 346; CPR 1388–92, p. 281 (2); CPR 1391–96, pp. 206, 687. Foreigners: CPR 1381–85, p. 15; CPR 1385–89, p. 43; CPR 1396–99, p. 80. ‘Duche’: CPR 1381–85, pp. 477, 486; CPR 1385–89, p. 513; CPR 1391–96, p. 721. Thrupp, ‘Aliens in London’, p. 259. C. Sponsler, ‘Alien Nation: London’s Aliens and Lydgate’s Mummings for the Mercers and Goldsmiths’, in The Postcolonial Middle Ages, ed. J. J. Cohen (New York, 2000), p. 231. CPR 1391–96, p. 478. Welsh criminals: CPR 1377–81, p. 444; CPR 1381–85, pp. 271, 381, 459; CPR 1385–89, pp. 74, 113, 151, 373, 430; CPR 1388–92, pp. 93, 100–1, 102, 123, 154, 168, 182, 240, 245, 301, 399; CPR 1391–96, pp. 207, 317, 351, 385, 480, 491, 599, 681; CPR 1396–99, pp. 38, 88, 144, 146, 201, 332, 453.

140

John L. Leland

persons.27 A smaller number of cases, nine, involved crimes where both the pardoned criminals and their victims were Welsh.28 Given the Welsh reputation for internecine feuds,29 this seems a low figure, but it may well be that many such cases were settled without recourse to the English legal system and therefore did not give rise to the possibility of pardon by the English king. Ailsa Herbert, studying the cases from Herefordshire in the court of King’s Bench in the fifteenth century, found that ‘Welshmen who committed crimes in the border shires rarely faced punishment’.30 These were primarily crimes against English victims, but if Welshmen could not be effectively punished in Herefordshire, it is even less likely they could be punished in Wales. Proportionately, a very small number of Welsh cases involved financial transactions – four cases of pardon involved Welsh debtors.31 As will be seen below, the proportion of financial cases found is higher for ethnic groups whose relations with the English were primarily commercial. However, although commercial ties were undeniably strong between the Flemings and the English, and probably accounted for the fact that the Flemings were involved in the second-largest group of cases after the Welsh, it is worth noting that the pardon cases involving the Flemings were not commercial cases of debt. Although the numbers are small enough that a difference of one or two cases could easily alter the relative results, it is still interesting that the largest single group of Flemish cases (ten) was made up of cases in which both the criminal and the victim were Flemings;32 this group was followed by that in which Flemings were only the criminals (seven)33 and then that in which the Flemings were the victims of English criminals (six).34 Many of the Flemings involved were described as ‘Webbe’ – that is, weavers by profession – and the impression given is one of conflict within small communities of Flemish weavers who lived and worked together and occasionally killed each other. However, as Caroline Barron remarked, these tight-knit groups of Flemish weavers ‘were not always welcomed with open arms’; as she goes on to say, ‘This alien separatism was punished by the murder of some thirty or forty Flemings who had taken refuge in the church of St. Martin Vintry in London in June 1381’.35 The deaths in the church were not the only ones; Chaucer has a well-known simile 27 Welsh victims: CPR 1377–81, pp. 393, 587, 621; CPR 1381–85, pp. 33, 309, 474, 487; CPR 1385–89,

28 29

30

31 32 33 34 35

pp. 157, 517; CPR 1388–92, pp. 394, 503; CPR 1391–96, pp. 2, 21, 259, 468, 668; CPR 1396–99, p. 273. Welsh on Welsh: CPR 1377–81, p. 609; CPR 1381–85, pp. 34, 102, 107, 454; CPR 1388–92, p. 19; CPR 1391–96, pp. 200, 491, 597. H. T. Evans, Wales and the Wars of the Roses (Cambridge,1915; repr. Stroud, 1998), pp. 18–20. This applies especially to the period after the Glendower revolt, but conditions were not much better earlier. A. Herbert, ‘Herefordshire, 1413–61: Some Aspects of Society and Public Order’, in Patronage, the Crown and the Provinces in Later Medieval England, ed. R. A. Griffiths (Gloucester, 1981), pp. 103–17, quoting p. 109. Welsh debtors: CPR 1385–89, p. 420; CPR 1391–96, p. 673; CPR 1396–99, pp. 296, 297. Fleming on Fleming: CPR 1377–81, pp. 341, 366, 539; CPR 1381–85, p. 104; CPR 1385–89, p. 250; CPR 1388–92, p. 181; CPR 1391–96, pp. 348, 478, 709; CPR 1396–99, p. 44. Flemings as criminals: CPR 1377–81, p. 276; CPR 1385–89, p. 131; CPR 1388–92, p. 389; CPR 1391–96, p. 222; CPR 1396–99, pp. 78, 117, 153. Flemings as victims: CPR 1377–81, pp. 180, 340; CPR 1381–85, p. 384; CPR 1385–89, p. 134; CPR 1391–96, p. 257; CPR 1396–99, p. 33. C. Barron, ‘Introduction: England and the Low Countries1327–1477’, in Barron and Saul, England and the Low Countries, p. 13. Statutes on Flemish weavers are cited in A. Clark, Working Life of Women in the Seventeenth Century (London, 1919), pp. 102–3.

Aliens in the Pardons of Richard II

141

describing Jack Straw’s men running in pursuit of a Fleming they wish to kill.36 There seem to be no cases of pardons specifically for these killings, though many of those crimes may have been covered by the very common pardons for general participation in the revolt. There is the interesting case of Richard Bone, who might be described as a premature anti-Fleming. On 19 April 1379, two years before the revolt, Bone was pardoned for the death of Gilbert Strynger, described as a weaver of Flanders. Bone is also described as a weaver, so craft rivalry may have been a motive for the killing. Then on 23 June 1381, just at the end of the main outbreak of the Peasants’ Revolt, Richard Bone was pardoned (like many others) for his participation in the revolt. It seems a safe assumption that his involvement in the revolt may have included further expression of his professional hostility toward Flemings, though such crimes are not specified in the pardon. It is almost certainly the same man in both cases, as in both he is described as ‘Richard Bone, webbe of London’.37 Another category which could be expected to arouse hostility was the French, considering the ongoing Hundred Years War. In fact, there does not seem to be much evidence for such hostility. It should be understood that the category of ‘French’ as used here does not necessarily mean persons actively loyal to the king of France and therefore hostile to England in the conflict. Several of those classed as French are actually described as ‘Picards’ and seem in fact to hail from the environs of Calais, then under English control. For example, there was William Seint Johan, ‘a mariner born in Picardy within the king’s allegiance’ who was pardoned the purchase of land in England ‘in consideration of his good service since the age of ten years both when with the late king (Edward II) and the king, in the wars and other services of shipcraft’.38 Others, such as Gylouth Frenshman, servant of Sir Robert Marny (or Marney)39 may have joined their masters while the latter were fighting in France. Besides these low-ranking Frenchmen in English service, there were also high-ranking French or quasi-French nobles with whom the English king wished to be on good terms. While the ten pardons to French criminals constituted the largest group within this nationality,40 the second largest group was made up of six cases of Frenchmen of high rank who asked pardons for others.41 These included the count of St Pol, and the dukes of Burgundy and Brittany. Whether the Breton duke (John IV) should be counted as French is debatable; for much of his reign, he was doing his best to establish his own autonomy vis-à-vis France, as Michael Jones has explained.42 36 37 38 39

The Riverside Chaucer, ed. L. D. Benson, new edn (Oxford, 1987), p. 260. CPR 1377–81, p. 340; CPR 1385–89, p. 280; CPR 1388–92, p. 75. CPR 1388–92, p. 407. CPR 1391–96, p. 18. See the entry for Sir Robert Marney in J. S. Roskell, L. Clark and C. Rawcliffe, eds, The House of Commons 1386–1421, vol. III, Members E–O (Stroud, 1992), pp. 690–3. The brief reference on p. 692 to the pardon granted to Marney himself does not mention Marney’s French servant. For further discussion of this case see J. Leland, ‘Richard II and the Counter-Appellants’ (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Yale University, 1979), pp. 224–6, citing TNA [PRO], KB 9/180/15, 16, 21. All subsequent references to manuscript sources refer to The National Archives unless specified otherwise. 40 French criminals: CPR 1377–81, pp. 136, 371; CPR 1388–92, p. 364; CPR 1391–96, pp. 18, 299, 466, 703; CPR 1396–99, pp. 64, 73. 41 French supplicants for pardons: CPR 1377–81, pp. 136, 371 (both by the duke of Brittany; for details of the trial leading to the pardon on p. 371, see JUST 3/167, m.19d); CPR 1388–92, pp. 313, 364, CPR 1391–96, p. 346 (all three the count of St Pol); CPR 1396–99, p. 23 (the duke of Burgundy). 42 Michael Jones, Ducal Brittany 1364–1399: Relations with England and France during the Reign of Duke John IV (Oxford, 1970), p. 114.

142

John L. Leland

Another category of dealings with the French also did not reflect military conflict; as at all times, there had been some illegal trade across the Channel. If anything, the amount of this is less represented in the pardon records than might have been expected: five pardons for trading with the French and two for trading with the Flemings, one for trading with unspecified foreigners.43 While the French in these records do not seem to display the expected hostility to the English, this does not appear to be true of another traditionally hostile group, the Irish. Whether it is due to the Irish living up to their traditional anti-English feelings, or English prejudice which made their indictments likely, the greatest number (8 out of 20) of Irish cases involved the Irish person committing a crime against an Englishman.44 There were only five cases in which an English person was indicted for a crime against an Irish person,45 and three others involved Irish on Irish troubles.46 It should be noted, however, that most of the names of ‘Irish’ people involved appear in the records in English form, and probably represent persons who were part of the minority of Irish inhabitants who were English by descent, or at least by culture, and who accepted English rule. The Statute of Kilkenny, among many other requirements intended to preserve the distinction between the English in Ireland and the native Irish, had required that the English in Ireland retain English-style names,47 and these are the people who appear in the pardons relating to Ireland. For example, John de Shirggeley (or Shriggeley), who was pardoned 1 December 1389 for the deaths of Nicholas Cusak and Richard Cormygan, had received a grant of lands in Drogheda on 16 August of the same year ‘in consideration of his seven years service in divers offices as well as in the wars in Ireland’.48 Besides these pardons directly from the crown to those in the parts of Ireland under English control, there were also pardons granted by the royal justiciars in Ireland, who were sometimes given limited powers of pardoning as a delegation of royal authority,49 but these pardons do not appear in this study. In many cases the actual crimes for which these pardons were granted took place in England, not Ireland. One of the most dramatic crimes against Irish people took place in Bristol, a center of trade with Ireland. William Lane, canon of St Augustine’s, in Bristol, was pardoned for ravishing a woman with the striking name of Iseult, wife of Thomas Iryssh, and stealing goods from Thomas.50 Recent scholarship holds that medieval ravishment did not necessarily mean rape in the modern sense, but since William was a canon and Iseult was married, this was not a matter of marrying an heiress or a widow (as many ravishments were); it must have been at least adultery if not actual rape. ‘Edward Powell has suggested that when clerics 43 French trade: CPR 1377–81, p. 54; CPR 1385–89, pp. 43, 237; CPR 1391–96, pp. 512, 601. ‘Foreign’

trade: CPR 1396–99, p. 80. Flemish trade: CPR 1377–81, p. 227; CPR 1391–96, p. 306.

44 Irish criminals: CPR 1377–81, p. 456; CPR 1385–89, pp. 429, 513; CPR 1388–92, pp. 29, 118; CPR

1391–96, p. 645; CPR 1396–99, pp. 77, 378.

45 Irish victims: CPR 1377–81, pp. 346, 546; CPR 1385–89, pp. 225, 537; CPR 1391–96, p. 550. 46 Irish on Irish: CPR 1377–81, p. 186; CPR 1381–85, p. 267; CPR 1385–89, p. 539. 47 R. R. Davies, ‘The Peoples of Britain and Ireland, 1100–1400, IV: Language and Historical Mythol-

ogy’, TRHS 6th ser. 7 (1997), p. 13; Griffiths, The Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries, p. 21. The various ethnic groups in Ireland in this period are discussed more fully by James Muldoon in Identity on the Medieval Irish Frontier: Degenerate Englishmen, Wild Irishmen, Middle Nations (Gainesville FL, 2003), pp. 38–46; the Statute of Kilkenny’s impact is discussed on pp. 85–7, 109–13. 48 CPR 1388–92, pp. 102, 539. 49 Robin Frame, English Lordship in Ireland, 1318–1361 (Oxford, 1982), pp. 108–9. Examples of Irish pardons appear on pp. 4, 10,190–1, 201, 231–2, 240, 291–2, 313. 50 CPR 1385–89, p. 537.

Aliens in the Pardons of Richard II

143

were indicted for rape what was really happening was clerical fornication or adultery in breach of the vow of celibacy, not rape.’51 Whatever it was, it does not seem to have had a negative effect on William’s career, as he went on to become master of the hospital of St Mark at Billeswick by Bristol.52 The Scots, who (despite continued claims of English overlordship) were definitely independent from, and generally hostile to, the English, show a pattern similar to the Irish, with a like plurality of Scots as criminals with English victims (nine)53 over Scots as victims (seven),54 though again the numbers are so small that the difference is not significant. As has been mentioned before, some of the persons surnamed Scot seem to be indistinguishable from other English subjects, whatever their ancestors may have been. One possible ‘Scot’ in Nottinghamshire is spelled ‘Skate’ and may be another name altogether.55 Sylvia Thrupp even found two cases of men surnamed ‘Scot’ in English records who were actually Italians.56 The Italians are the one foreign group (among those in the larger category) who really appear distinctively as merchants. The usual term for this ethnic group in England at the time was ‘Lombards’, whether or not they came from Lombardy. Sometimes they appear as creditors and debtors, sometimes as criminals or victims, but even the latter cases tend to have financial aspects. The most striking Italian case involved Walter Barde or Bardes, as the English records call him, representative of the great banking firm of the Bardi who had made such large, and at the time disastrous, loans to Edward III. Walter (or Gautron) de Barde had a well-established position in England by Richard II’s reign; Richard’s government in 1377–8 confirmed several grants to Barde by Edward III: the position of master of the mint, the rights of a freeman of the City of London, with exemption from paying customs payable by aliens, and a grant for life of 20 pounds a year.57 When a crime was committed against Walter, in 1386, it was by a fellow Italian: Peter de Gracien, a ‘Lombard’ merchant of Lucca. Gracien’s pardon states that he received certain jewels from Walter de Bardes, to be pledged for a certain sum of money for the king’s use. These may have been the jewels the king’s government had pledged with the Bardi in order to obtain a loan in an attempt to save Ghent from the French.58 Gracien absconded with the jewels and took sanctuary in Westminster Abbey, where he remained until he restored the jewels to Barde and was pardoned.59 The most credible explanation for Gracien’s behavior would seem to be that he originally intended to escape with the jewels, and only entered sanctuary when he saw he could not get away. After this incident, Barde went on to conclude a final settlement of the English royal debt to the Bardi house in 1391, an agreement described in 51 M. E. Mate, Daughters, Wives and Widows after the Black Death: Women in Sussex, 1350–1535

52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59

(Woodbridge, 1998), p. 184, citing E. Powell ‘Jury Trial at Gaol Delivery in the Late Middle Ages, The Midland Circuit, 1400–1429’, in Twelve Good Men and True: The Criminal Trial Jury in England, 1200–1800 (Princeton, 1988), pp. 101–4. CPR 1391–96, p. 323; CPR 1396–99, p. 388. Scots criminals: CPR 1377–81, pp. 86, 367; CPR 1388–92, pp. 44, 205; CPR 1391–96, pp. 299, 332, 620, 711; CPR 1396–99, p. 133. Scots victims: CPR 1377–81, pp. 259, 367; CPR 1385–89, p. 113; CPR 1388–92, p. 477; CPR 1396–99, pp. 35, 134. CPR 1377–81, p. 367; JUST 3/56/213. Thrupp, ‘Aliens in London’, p. 268. CPR 1377–81, pp. 1, 148, 241. CPR 1385–89, pp. 60, 74, 147, 150. CPR 1385–89, pp. 133–4.

144

John L. Leland

detail by Beardwood. Peter Gracien, on the other hand, was murdered in 1388. John Wallere was indicted for the crime, but maintained he was indicted by the malice of his enemies. He was pardoned at the supplication of the count of St Pol.60 The smaller numbers of Spanish and Portuguese-related pardons also include cases of merchant creditors, but the most singular example of a possible pardon for a Spaniard is the case of John Spaigne. Spaigne was a cordwainer and soutor (cobbler) in Lynn, perhaps a genuine worker in Spanish leather, but he was pardoned for having joined the Peasants’ Revolt.61 Aside from his name and profession, there is no definite evidence that he was a foreigner, but if he was, it is interesting that he joined a movement generally considered hostile to foreigners, as with the Flemings mentioned above. Perhaps the Flemings, as a larger and more visible minority, were more unpopular than the Spaniards. In examples where the pardon cases can be traced in the earlier stages of the legal process, the treatment of foreigners, or persons of foreign descent, by the English legal system does not seem strikingly different from the treatment of native subjects. When John Walsh pleaded self-defense when appealed of the killing of John Edyng by Edyng’s widow Alice, the jury found that Edyng had struck Walsh with a staff, whereupon Walsh in self-defense killed Edyng with a knife.62 This story seems plausible enough until exactly the same tale of staff and knife appears in the case of Henry Peytevyn, accused of killing David Baker.63 In fact, the Walsh and Peytevyn cases are both simply examples of a very stereotyped claim of self-defense. Two examples of the same sort of story can be found in Hurnard’s discussion of thirteenth-century claims of excusable homicide,64 while more fourteenth-century cases and a good summary of the stereotypical story have been given more recently by Carrie Smith.65 At least it can be said that the English juries in these cases were prepared to accept these legal fictions from persons of possible foreign descent as readily as they accepted them from other Englishmen. The Welsh in particular seem to have been treated reasonably well in this period, so far as the pardon records go, but then this was a period when the Welsh were no longer independent enemies and, in most cases, had yet to become rebels. There are two exceptions – Blethin ap David ap Madok (Bleddyn ap Dafydd ap Madog) who joined Owen of Wales (Owain Lawgoch) in France, and David Hope who allegedly joined the French, but in both cases the pardons maintain that the men in question were actually loyal. David Hope satisfied the authorities that he had been falsely accused by his enemies, and received compensation for his confiscated property. Bleddyn admitted he had joined Owain of Wales, but maintained it was under duress.66 Aside from these two exceptional cases, and considering only the pardon evidence, it could be argued that the fourteenth century, falling between the conquest of Wales by Edward I and its effec60 A. Beardwood, Alien Merchants in England 1350 to 1377 (Cambridge MA, 1931), Appendix A; CPR

1388–92, p. 313. CPR 1385–89, p. 158. The whole case deserves further study. CPR 1388–92, p. 154; JUST 3/175, m. 3. CPR 1388–92, p. 313; JUST 3/180, m. 31. N. D. Hurnard, The King’s Pardon for Homicide before A.D. 1307 (Oxford, 1969), pp. 93, 125. Carrie Smith, ‘Medieval Coroners’ Rolls: Legal Fiction or Historical Fact’, in Courts, Counties and the Capital in the Later Middle Ages, ed. D. E. S. Dunn (New York, 1996), pp. 93–115, especially p. 112. 66 CPR 1381–85, p. 381; CPR 1388–92, p. 245. For further discussion of these two cases, see A. D. Carr, Owen of Wales: The End of the House of Gwynedd (Cardiff, 1991), pp. 60–2. 61 62 63 64 65

Aliens in the Pardons of Richard II

145

tive reconquest under Henry IV, was actually a time when the Welsh were comparatively well off under English rule, before Wales was ‘bruised and shackled’ as Evans put it, in the aftermath of the Glendower revolt.67 This should not be overstated; R. R. Davies, in describing Wales before the revolt, says ‘There is little doubt that Welsh society adjusted to and largely learnt to bypass this institutionalized ethnic duality’; (of the English language in Wales) ‘there is equally little doubt that its continuing, and often arbitrary and whimsical, enforcement was at best a source of irritation, at worst of deep resentment to the native Welsh’.68 However, the pardons seem to show more of the adjustment and less of the irritation than might be expected. The broader numbers suggest that foreigners in general also did reasonably well in the pardon system; substantially more foreigners were pardoned for crimes against the English than the other way around, and the very conventionality of such records as can be found suggests that episodes like the Flemish deaths during the Peasants’ Revolt were atypical. So far as the pardon evidence goes, it tends to confirm, for England as a whole, Thrupp’s optimistic estimate of the status of aliens in London, which has been questioned by later writers.69 The English people in the later Middle Ages may have held the attitudes of superiority over and hostility to non-English suggested by other varieties of evidence,70 but the pardon records do not confirm that such attitudes had a very significant impact on the actual treatment of aliens within the working of this aspect of the English legal system.

67 68 69 70

Evans, Wales and the Wars of the Roses, p. 8. R. R. Davies, The Revolt of Owain Glyn Dwr (Oxford, 1995), p. 69. Thrupp, ‘Aliens in London’, p. 270; cf. Bolton, Alien Communities of London, pp. 35–40. For example, Penny Tucker found that ‘Chancery petitions contain quite a smattering of complaints about prejudice on the part of London jurors against aliens and strangers’, ‘London’s Courts of Law in the Fifteenth Century: The Litigants’ Perspective’, in Communities and Courts in Britain 1150–1900, ed. C. Brooks and M. Lobban (London, 1997), p. 37, though she also found some flexibility in the law for aliens, p. 41. Some of these strangers could be non-London English rather than actual foreigners.

‘Too Flatt ering Sweet to be Subst antial ’

‘TOO FLATTERING SWEET TO BE SUBSTANTIAL’? THE LAST MONTHS OF THOMAS, LORD DESPENSER* Martyn Lawrence ‘Murder, like talent, seems occasionally to run in families.’1 The nineteenth-century British philosopher George Henry Lewes could almost have been writing of the Despenser family, for whom being murdered – or, at least, failing to die warm in their beds – was an alarming family tendency. In six generations, no fewer than three of the Despensers were executed brutally, another was slaughtered at the battle of Evesham (1265), and the remaining two are believed to have fallen victim to plague. Of these six generations, easily the most politically significant deaths were those of Hugh Despenser the younger, who was hanged, drawn and quartered at Hereford in 1326, and Thomas Despenser, murdered by a mob in Bristol market place in January 1400. Despite taking place more than seventy years apart, the deaths were inextricably linked to the downfalls of Edward II and Richard II respectively. Contemporaries, of course, recognised connections between the two reigns,2 and Richard II himself drew attention to such comparisons through his unsuccessful attempts to secure his great-grandfather’s canonisation,3 in support of which he adorned the columns of Edward II’s Gloucester tomb with white harts, a potent symbol of Ricardian kingship. However, of most importance to the argument presented here is the way in which both kings drew around them a tight-knit group of men of dubious merit: in Edward II’s case, Hugh Despenser the younger and his cronies; in Richard II’s, his *

I am grateful to Mark Ormrod for reading an early draft of this paper, and Shelagh Sneddon for her assistance with the transcription of the appendix. Unless otherwise stated, all primary documents cited are from The National Archives of the United Kingdom [Public Record Office].

1 2

G. H. Lewes, The Physiology of Common Life, 2 vols (Edinburgh, 1859–60), II, p. 385. The Kirkstall Abbey chronicler, for example, wrote that Richard’s unwillingness to listen to mature advice made him ‘almost like Edward of Caernarvon’. The Kirkstall Abbey Chronicles, ed. J. Taylor, Thoresby Society 42 (1952), p. 83. Both kings were likened to Rehoboam, son of King Solomon, in whose catastrophic reign the kingdom of Israel was divided. Vita Edwardi Secundi, ed. W. R. Childs (London, 2005), pp. 33, 63; The Chronicle of Adam Usk 1377–1421, ed. C. Given-Wilson (Oxford, 1997), p. 76. For Richard’s petitions to Rome, see A. R. Echerd, ‘Canonisation and Politics in Late Medieval England: The Cult of Thomas of Lancaster’ (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, 1983), pp. 232–6; J. Bray, ‘Concepts of Sainthood in Fourteenth-Century England’, Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 66 (1984), pp. 40–77 (pp. 46–58); C. Given-Wilson, ‘Richard II, Edward II, and the Lancastrian Inheritance’, EHR 109 (1994), pp. 553–71 (pp. 567–9); S. K. Walker, ‘Political Saints in Medieval England’, in Political Saints in Later Medieval England, ed. R. H. Britnell and A. J. Pollard (Stroud, 1995), pp. 83–4. Also on political sainthood, see J. W. McKenna, ‘Popular Canonisation as Political Propaganda: The Cult of Archbishop Scrope’, Speculum 45 (1970), pp. 608–23; J. M. Theilmann, ‘Political Canonisation and Political Symbolism in Medieval England’, JBS 29 (1990), pp. 241–66. Richard, presumably by coincidence but perhaps with a sense of the macabre, was for thirteen years buried at Langley Abbey, a Dominican convent founded by none other than Edward II, and the final resting place of that king’s earlier favourite, Piers Gaveston.

3

‘Too Flattering Sweet to be Substantial’

147

duketti, which included Thomas Despenser. The involvement of members of the same family on both occasions is striking, but whilst the last months of the younger Hugh have been charted in some detail,4 those of his descendant have not. It is the intention of this article to follow the movements of Thomas Despenser in his last eight months (May 1399 to January 1400), using several hitherto-overlooked documents in The National Archives to shed further light on his activities.5 This should further clarify the role of a man whom the duke of Norfolk described as ‘the last and the least of the [Epiphany] conspirators’,6 yet who was a rising star of the court and whose attitudes and actions may also provide insight into the king’s own behaviour at this time. To begin with, a brief sketch of the family background is necessary. When his father died in 1375, Thomas Despenser was just two years old. He therefore avoided any questionable involvement during Edward III’s last troubled years, Richard II’s minority rule and the turmoil of the Appellant regime. During his childhood, Thomas’s widowed mother Elizabeth worked tirelessly to safeguard the Despenser estates from fragmentation.7 When he was just fifteen, he was permitted to join the English fleet, commanded by the earl of Arundel who had recently won a brilliant naval victory over the combined French, Spanish and Flemish fleets off Margate. According to the Westminster Chronicle, Thomas was knighted by Arundel on the island of Batz, off La Rochelle.8 There is some suggestion that Despenser was elected to a Garter stall in 1388, but since he was only fifteen at the time, this is extremely unlikely.9 On 7 March 1394, whilst still under age, he received full livery of his father’s estates, and the following September he led a retinue of 174 men in the king’s first Irish campaign.10 This was Despenser’s first major military activity,11 and it marked his arrival at the heart of court life. In July 1395 he was 4

N. M. Fryde, The Tyranny and Fall of Edward II (Cambridge, 1979), pp. 176–94; R. M. Haines, King Edward II: Edward of Caernarfon, his life, his reign and its aftermath, 1284–1300 (Montreal, 2003), pp. 177–86. 5 E 101/511/28, E 101/511/29 and E 153/1907. The two former are respectively catalogued as ‘Documents relating to the accounts of Thomas de Brugge, receiver of Thomas earl of Gloucester’ and ‘Documents relating to the affairs of Thomas le Despenser, lord of Glamorgan’. PRO, List of Accounts Various, Lists and Indexes 35 (London, 1963), p. 311. Both files were mentioned by T. B. Pugh, ‘The Marcher Lords of Glamorgan and Morgannwg, 1317–1485’, in Glamorgan County History, III: The Middle Ages, ed. T. B. Pugh (Cardiff, 1971), p. 608, but have been employed systematically only by A. J. Dunn, The Politics of Magnate Power in England and Wales 1389–1413 (Oxford, 2003), pp. 141, 160. E 153/1907 is an escheator’s inventione for Worcestershire, dated 1399–1400. It is transcribed in the appendix to this article. 6 Given-Wilson, ‘Lancastrian Inheritance’, p. 556. 7 M. J. Lawrence, ‘Power, Ambition and Political Reconciliation: The Despensers, c.1281–1400’ (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of York, 2005), pp. 135–8. I hope to explore Elizabeth Despenser’s estate management in a separate article. 8 E 101/41/5, m. 1; CPR 1385–9, p. 416. Thomas’s sister Elizabeth had recently married the earl’s nephew. The Westminster Chronicle, 1381–1394, ed. L. C. Hector and B. F. Harvey (Oxford, 1982), pp. 350–3. 9 For example, H. E. L. Collins, The Order of the Garter 1348–1461 (Oxford, 2000), p. 101. However, there is only one definite reference for Thomas’s membership of the Order, dated April 1399: G. F. Beltz, Memorials of the Order of the Garter (London, 1841), p. 332. 10 CCR 1392–6, pp. 204–5; CPR 1391–6, pp. 384, 427; E 101/402/20, fol. 32v (the name enrolled is that of Edward Despenser, presumably a scribal error since there was no member of the family with that name in 1395); E 101/403/1, m. 1. 11 Dunn, Magnate Power, p. 139 (following Complete Peerage, IV, p. 278), erroneously states that Thomas took fifty men to Prussia under the command of Henry Bolingbroke in 1391. The ‘lord Despenser’ to whom the Patent Roll refers is Hugh Despenser, Thomas’s cousin, who had already

148

Martyn Lawrence

present at the Eltham Great Council, and was soon summoned to his first parliament.12 At the age of twenty-three, Thomas Despenser was fast emerging as one of Richard II’s closest companions. In the parliament of September 1397 Despenser repaid Richard’s trust. Thomas and his co-conspirators, all dressed in identical robes of red and white silk powdered with gold letters, passed judgement on the Appellants and were rewarded handsomely for doing so.13 Despenser was made earl of Gloucester and granted a bloc of lands worth almost £300 per year.14 He was also appointed constable of Gloucester and St Briavels castles and warden of the Forest of Dean. The following January he obtained a full reversal of the sentences of forfeiture passed on his ancestors in 1321 and 1327.15 The significance of this concentrated bloc of patronage can hardly be overstated. The decision to reverse the Despenser forfeitures carried with it potentially calamitous consequences for the entire upper nobility, since almost all of them owned properties that had been held by the younger Despenser seventy years earlier.16 Beyond that, the Gloucester earldom carried immense psychological overtones for the Despensers, and arguably for the political community at large. The earldom had been coveted by Hugh Despenser the younger as far back as the 1310s, who deemed it a natural fulfilment of his marriage to Eleanor Clare. Indeed his ruthless acquisition of the former Clare lands was a major cause of the civil wars of the 1320s.17 Despite Hugh’s ignominious death, subsequent generations continued to adorn the Despenser ‘mausoleum’ at Tewkesbury Abbey with soaring decorated arches, stained glass windows and intricate chantry tombs to draw explicit comparisons with their illustrious heritage,18 and this tradition would continue in the wake of Thomas’s brief tenure of the earldom.19

12 13 14 15 16

17

18

19

been to Prussia in 1383 and 1386 and would transfer his allegiance to Bolingbroke in November 1399: CPR 1381–5, p. 274; The Diplomatic Correspondence of Richard II, ed. E. Perroy, Camden 3rd ser. 48 (London, 1933), no. 61; CPR 1388–92, p. 413. E 28/4; RP, III, p. 338. Adam Usk, pp. 26–7; RP, III, p. 355. CIM 1392–99, no. 302; CPR 1396–9, pp. 186, 219, 224. DL 27/217; DL 42/15, fol. 410r; BL MS Add. 6041, fol. 37r; CCR 1396–9, pp. 278, 284, 298, 329. The record of proceedings is in RP, III, pp. 360–8. Scholars essentially agree on Richard II’s reasons for doing this, although they differ on the details. Nigel Saul views the move as part of the king’s attempts to enhance the power and glory of the crown and subordinate local power structures to those in the centre (Richard II [London, 1997], pp. 381–3), whilst Chris Given-Wilson sees Richard systematically dismantling the Lancastrian inheritance much as Edward II had done after Boroughbridge (‘Lancastrian Inheritance’, pp. 560–1). Alistair Dunn, on the other hand, believes that the events owed more to Richard’s attempts to reassert his authority in the March of Wales than to any genuine promise that Despenser would have the opportunity to reassemble his great-grandfather’s empire (Magnate Power, p. 142). BL MS Cotton Nero A. IV, fol. 53v; Vita Edwardi Secundi, pp. 195–7. The claim also occurs in one version of the 1321 charges against the Despensers, preserved at Durham. Despenser was accused of seizing the estates of Hugh Audley and Roger d’Amory ‘pur aver ataynt par tels faus compassemenz destre count de Gloucestr’ en desheritanz des piers de la terre’ (M. C. Prestwich, ‘The Charges against the Despensers, 1321’, BIHR 58 [1985], pp. 95–100 [p. 99]). The official version, by comparison, reads: ‘par aver atteint per tieux faux compassement al entier du Countie de Glouc’, SR, I, p. 183. The concept of the ‘Despenser mausoleum’ was first mooted by R. K. Morris, ‘Tewkesbury Abbey – the Despenser Mausoleum’, Bristol and Gloucester Archaeological Society Transactions 93 (1974 for 1975), pp. 142–55; and updated by R. K. Morris with M. Thurlby, ‘The Gothic Church: Architectural History’, in Tewkesbury Abbey: History, Art and Architecture, ed. R. K. Morris and R. Shoesmith (Logaston, 2003), pp. 109–30. In 1400, when Thomas was buried, his body was slotted in before the altar amongst the Clare earls. In stark contrast with the splendid chantries of his father and grandfather, which ringed the high altar, the

‘Too Flattering Sweet to be Substantial’

149

Thomas Despenser clearly enjoyed his new status. His annual income increased to approximately £2,200 and his expenditure on luxury goods went through the roof.20 A Worcestershire inventione from 1400 listing some of Despenser’s forfeited possessions gives some idea of the purchases he made to support his new position (see Appendix below). His wardrobe at Hanley Castle, where he spent his last Christmas, was replete with gorgeous clothes: a white damask cloak studded with jewels, a cloak embroidered with animals and edged with white velvet, a tunic of red velvet embroidered with silver thread, a doublet of white satin decorated with gold leaves and a cloak of black satin edged with marten fur. His sleeping arrangements were equally splendid: he slept on a silken bed adorned with golden swans, surrounded by red silken curtains, his head on silken pillows. Woven red and white tapestries hung on the wall. Despenser’s table was laid with linen, with coppercoloured cloths for protection, and his stables were full of thoroughbred horses. He travelled in style, in a carriage pulled by six different-coloured horses. Little wonder that Hanley was the residence of choice for Despenser’s mother Elizabeth and his wife Constance, granddaughter of Edward III.21 Despenser’s lavish lifestyle would also have impressed King Richard – whose own proclivity for extravagant expenditure is well documented22 – who visited Hanley in March 1398 and regularly enjoyed Thomas’s hospitality at Tewkesbury, Cardiff and Burford.23 According to his receiver’s accounts from 1399, Despenser frequently patronised a London goldsmith, George Cressy, to whom he paid almost £50 for jewellery and griffins for the family coat of arms.24 Despenser’s membership of the Order of the Garter, to which he had been elected in 1398 or 1399, is also apparent from the inventione, which lists his full dress (presumably worn at Windsor during the April 1399 Garter ceremonies): hose, gilt spurs and a hood embroidered with Garter insignia.25 This love of display found another outlet in Thomas Despenser’s Irish commitments. The family had held estates in Kilkenny for much of the century, and on his visit to Dublin in 1395 Thomas had convinced Richard II to return the manor of Killoran (County Waterford) to his mother.26 In 1399, the second Irish campaign saw Despenser, the dukes of Exeter, Albemarle and Surrey and the earls of Salis-

20 21 22

23 24 25 26

recently executed Despenser was modestly interred under the choir floor ‘beneath a lamp that burns before the host’. Bodl. MS Top. Glouc. d.2, fol. 26r (the Chronica de Theokesburie). Despite evident attempts to avoid drawing too much attention to a disgraced man, this was a very deliberate statement of association intended to place Despenser on a par with his distinguished forebears. In time, Thomas’s grave, together with those of his son Richard, his daughter Isabel and his mother Elizabeth, were to completely surround the altar. For the tomb placements, I have relied on Figure 13.1 in P. Lindley, ‘The Later Medieval Monuments and Chantry Chapels’, in Tewkesbury Abbey, ed. Morris and Shoesmith, p. 162. Dunn, Magnate Power, pp. 140–1. For their residence at Hanley: SC 6/1292/3/3, no. 2; SC 6/1292/3/4, no. 2; E 101/511/12/1–2; CPR 1377–81, p. 395; CPR 1381–5, p. 278; CPR 1399–1402, pp. 178, 460. G. B. Stow, ‘Chronicles versus Records: The Character of Richard II’, in Documenting the Past: Essays in Medieval History presented to George Peddy Cuttino, ed. J. S. Hamilton and P. J. Bradley (Woodbridge, 1989), pp. 165–7; C. Given-Wilson, The Royal Household and the King’s Affinity (London, 1986), p. 83. Saul, Richard II, pp. 472–4; Dunn, Magnate Power, p. 140. E 101/511/28/6, 18, 31, 42, 52; E 101/511/29/3. Bodl. MS Top. Glouc. d.2, fol. 25v, depicts Thomas Despenser with a badge of the Order displayed beside his left shoulder. SP 66/A/3A.

150

Martyn Lawrence

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Plate 1. Richard II and Art MacMurrough, king of Leinster (1399). BL MS Harley 1319, fol. 9.

bury and Worcester seal their indentures and sail with the king.27 On 10 April, Thomas secured protection for himself and a retinue of four knights, thirty-one esquires and one hundred archers.28 The recent Garter ceremony had evidently inspired him to look his best once again, and he went to considerable lengths to purchase horses, gilt spurs, cloths and two standards prior to his embarcation.29 Even his horses were gaudily arrayed. In contrast with the 1320s, when the younger Despenser refused to leave the country and also forbade Edward II from doing so, Richard and his court cabal embarked for Ireland, leaving the throne vacant as they did so. As one of the king’s chief lieutenants, Thomas was responsible for arranging the abortive meeting between Richard and the Irish king of Leinster, Art MacMurrough, an event depicted in one of the illustrations of Jean Creton’s Metrical History (see Plate 1).30 However, even as these events were unfolding, Henry Bolingbroke landed in England. Even before MacMurrough had refused the English advances, Richard II’s throne was lost. The chronology of the king’s desperate return from Ireland is notoriously difficult to pin down, and several attempts have been made to reconcile the chronicle 27 E 101/69/1/296–301. 28 C 76/83, m. 12; E 101/69/1/299. He received a total of £435 18s in two instalments of £215 10s and

£220 8s: E 403/562, mm. 2–3.

29 E 101/511/28/5, 11, 58, 59; E 101/511/29/7, 9; E 153/1907, mm. 5–6. 30 BL Harley MS 1319, fol. 9r, printed in E. M. Thompson, ‘A Contemporary Account of the Fall of

Richard the Second: Part I’, The Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs 5 (1904), p. 165, plate 2.

‘Too Flattering Sweet to be Substantial’

151

accounts.31 Richard is believed to have arrived home between 18 July and 1 August.32 According to Adam Usk, he landed on 22 July, when Thomas Despenser was immediately sent to Glamorgan to raise reinforcements.33 A series of payments by his receiver in Gloucestershire fleshes out the picture. The following day, seventeen shillings were paid to one John Shortegrove who provided a dozen archers from the Forest of Dean to protect Despenser on his journey to Caerphilly.34 Clearly no one expected the earl to arrive home so soon, and men had to rush out to victual the castle.35 Assuming the date of 23 July was indeed the date that Shortegrove was commissioned, this confirms that Richard had returned from Ireland by 22 July at the very latest. As it turned out, Despenser was unable to provide reinforcements and the stupefied king was forced to abandon his plans in south Wales. He headed north to Conway with a small band of supporters, including Despenser, who sent word to his manor of Tewkesbury and ordered it to be guarded by gallant (‘chivachautz’) men of the town.36 The whole scenario is eerily similar to Edward II’s flight through Wales with the younger Hugh in 1326. When Isabella and Mortimer invaded, Edward fled to Wales hoping to find protection amongst Despenser’s supporters in Glamorgan, but none was found. The Vita Edwardi Secundi described how 30,000 tenants of Glamorgan had previously renounced their fealty because of their passionate hatred for the younger Hugh.37 Why was it that once again in 1399 the Despenser retinues failed to turn out for their lords? There is no doubt that Thomas had failed to take full advantage of the Worcestershire lands that came to him in 1397: despite the ease with which he could have controlled these from Hanley or Tewkesbury, the reeve and issue rolls for Elmley Castle (a Beauchamp holding) indicate little administrative disruption.38 Considering Thomas’s lavish spending on enhancing his personal image in 1399, this is surprising. While, on the one hand, it made sense to limit disruption, on the other it would appear to underline Despenser’s preference for display over substance. His problems in securing peacetime support may be additionally seen from a request to the prior of Llanthony, near Abergavenny, in which Thomas asked 31 J. F. Lydon, ‘Richard II’s Expeditions to Ireland’, Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquarians of

32

33 34 35 36

37 38

Ireland 93 (1963), pp. 135–49; D. Johnston, ‘Richard II’s Departure from Ireland, July 1399’, EHR 98 (1983), pp. 785–805; J. W. Sherborne, ‘Richard II’s Return to Wales, July 1399’, repr. J. W. Sherborne, War, Politics and Culture in Fourteenth-Century England (London, 1994), pp. 119–29; Saul, Richard II, pp. 409–13; M. Bennett, Richard II and the Revolution of 1399 (Stroud, 1999), pp. 159–63. These are the various dates put forward by the Dieulacres Chronicle, the Metrical History of Jean Creton, Adam Usk, the Chronicque de la Traison et Mort de Richard II and the Vita Ricardi Secundi (A. Gransden, Historical Writing in England, II: c. 1307 to the Early Sixteenth Century [Ithaca NY, 1982], pp. 157–93; Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 36–7). Based on these accounts, Sherborne says Richard returned ‘the week beginning 20 July’ (‘Return to Wales’, p. 122); Saul narrows it down to ‘on or about 24 July’ (Richard II, p. 411); whereas Johnston spreads the net wider, from 18 to 27 July (‘Departure from Ireland’, p. 793). Adam Usk, pp. 58–9. E 101/511/29/8. Ibid. Ibid.; Given-Wilson, Revolution, p. 140. For further details of the king’s flight, see J. W. Sherborne, ‘Perjury and the Lancastrian Revolution of 1399’, repr. in Sherborne, War, Politics and Culture, pp. 131–53. Vita Edwardi Secundi, p. 189. Worcester Record Office, 899: 95/BA 989, Boxes 1 and 4, cited by Dunn, Magnate Power, pp. 159, 160.

152

Martyn Lawrence

for five men-at-arms and fifteen archers to escort him to parliament in 1397.39 He also sealed three indentures between 1395 and 1399, all requesting additional men in times of trouble.40 It suggests a man struggling to consolidate his West Country powerbase when necessary. The ferocity with which he met his death, and the havoc wreaked on his estates by enraged tenants, underlines this still further.41 It was this inability to rally local support that mirrors the problem faced by Hugh the younger in 1326 when so few Welshmen saw any reason to defend Edward II.42 In fact, none of the six generations of Despensers were particularly concerned with local lordship.43 Notwithstanding their success at court, their estates were poorly managed. The Despensers appear to have survived in spite of, rather than because of, their dealings with their respective retainers. By mid-August 1399 Richard II was a prisoner. Thomas had accompanied the king north to Conway and remained with him until his capture at Chester. When Richard was taken to London, Despenser may have accompanied him, since a record of money paid to an escort confirms his arrival in Cardiff Castle as late as 13 September.44 This fits the chroniclers’ time-scale whereby Richard was confined to the Tower by 2 September.45 By the end of the month Thomas had returned to London for Henry IV’s first parliament,46 where he denied any active involvement in the counter-Appellant plot.47 On 15 October the judgements of 1397 were reversed and Despenser demoted from his earldom.48 Sentence was formally passed against the counter-Appellants on 3 November, who were briefly sent to the Tower, and parliament was dissolved on the 19th. However, on 27 October, in the midst of these events, Despenser sealed the last of the three indentures mentioned above. William Hamme, a Herefordshire esquire, was to receive ten marks per year for service in peace and war. The pledge is intriguing because it included the clause that, if necessary, Hamme was to accompany his lord overseas to the crusading theatres of Prussia or Rhodes.49 An earlier indenture, agreed on 1 October 1396 between Despenser and William Daventry of Northampton, contained a similar 39 C 115/78, fol. 193r. 40 ‘Private Indentures for Life Service in Peace and War’, in Camden Miscellany 32, ed. M. Jones and

41

42

43 44 45 46

47 48 49

S. K. Walker, 5th ser. 3 (London, 1994), nos 84 (John Wilcotes), 87 (William Daventry), 93 (William Hamme). In Rotherfield (Sussex), a fulling mill was totally destroyed (CIPM, 18, no. 2). In Gloucestershire, dozens of plates, goblets and other items were broken, suggesting widespread looting once Despenser’s fate was known (E 153/1907, m. 4). S. Waugh, ‘For King, Country and Patron: The Despensers and Local Administration 1321–1322’, JBS 22 (1983), pp. 23–58; N. Saul, ‘The Despensers and the Downfall of Edward II’, EHR 99 (1984), pp. 1–33. Lawrence, ‘Despensers, c.1281–1400’, pp. 92–117, appendices 2–5. E 101/511/29/8. Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 152, 155, 158–9. Despenser had property on Friday Street and Watling Street: CPR 1391–6, p. 302; E 101/511/29/2, 3, 6, 8, 10; E 199/27/8, mm. 1–2; E 199/27/14, mm. 1–6. He doubtless resided at one or other of these whilst in London. Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 216–17. E 101/511/29/8 contains a record of payment of 6s 8d to a clerk of the Rolls, ‘par j copis del appelle dez sirras’, dated 14 October. ‘Et outre ceo sil aveigne que mon dit seigneur veut travailler vers les parties de Sprws [Prussia], Rodes ou vers aucuns autres parties quelconques hors du roiaume Dengleterre ou en Gales en queles parties qil plest a mon dit seigneur sur les coustages demesnes et le dit William soit requis de travailler ovec mon dit seigneur vers les parties suisditz’: ‘Private Indentures’, ed. Jones and Walker, no. 93.

‘Too Flattering Sweet to be Substantial’

153

clause, ‘Travailler … sur les enemys nostreseignur Jhesu Christ’, although no mention was made of an overseas destination.50 The fourteenth century saw both a continuation and revival of the crusading fervour that had gripped western Europe in earlier years. For men who wished to take the cross the opportunities were almost boundless, with fronts opening up in Iberia, Prussia, North Africa, Italy and Palestine.51 King Edward I himself was on crusade when his father died in 1272,52 and over the next 130 years Englishmen took part in action against the Moors as well as in publicly proclaimed crusades against other Christian powers.53 Whatever his actual motive, the specificity with which Thomas Despenser outlined his possible destination in October 1399 suggests he was certainly making a contingency plan. Considering his family background, this is no surprise. Thomas’s father Edward had crusaded in Italy in the late 1360s; his uncle, Henry, bishop of Norwich, is well known for his part in the abortive Flanders crusade of 1383; another uncle, Hugh, went to Prussia in 1367; and Thomas’s cousin, yet another Hugh, travelled to Prussia in 1383, 1386 and 1391. 54 Of even greater moment, perhaps, the mid-1390s had seen the aged Philippe de Mézières visit England and gain considerable support amongst the chivalric nobility for his Nova Religio Passionis. Thomas’s cousin Hugh Despenser joined the Order, and it is possible that Thomas himself also did.55 His comital predecessor, the duke of Gloucester, had stipulated ‘travaille sur les enemys Dieux’ as a condition of service for an indenture in 1395,56 and ambitious contemporaries predicted that Richard would be the king to fulfil prophecy and lead an apocalyptic campaign against the Turks.57 Although the defeat at Nicopolis in 1396 brought an end to any hopes of sustained war against the infidel, there was a continuing undercurrent of tension in the Baltic, Spain and eastern Europe. When Richard II held his Christmas court at Lichfield in 1398, the kinsman of the emperor of Constantinople was in attendance, and, shortly afterwards, Thomas Despenser, together with the earls of Salisbury and Westmorland, each sent gifts of one hundred marks to Emperor Manuel II.58 In addition, when Henry Bolingbroke was exiled in 1398, Froissart recorded his intention to take the cross and travel to Granada, Friesland, or Hungary.59 All this may have made the Crusade a logical alternative for Despenser in the aftermath of Richard’s fall. 50 ‘Private Indentures’, ed. Jones and Walker, no. 87. 51 M. H. Keen, ‘Chaucer’s Knight, the English Aristocracy and the Crusade’, in English Court Culture in

52

53

54 55 56 57 58 59

the Later Middle Ages, ed. V. J. Scattergood and J. W. Sherborne (London, 1983), pp. 45–61; N. J. Housley, The Avignon Papacy and the Crusades, 1305–1378 (Oxford, 1986); A. Luttrell, ‘English Levantine Crusaders, 1363–1367’, Renaissance Studies 2 (1988), pp. 143–53; A. Luttrell, ‘Chaucer’s Knight and the Mediterranean’, Library of Mediterranean History 1 (1994), pp. 127–60. S. Lloyd, ‘The Lord Edward’s Crusade, 1270–2: Its Setting and Significance’, in War and Government in the Middle Ages: Essays in honour of J. O. Prestwich, ed. J. B. Gillingham and J. C. Holt (Cambridge, 1984), pp. 120–33; M. C. Prestwich, Edward I (London, 1988), pp. 66–85. For crusading against Catholics: N. J. Housley, The Later Crusades, 1274–1580: From Lyons to Alcazar (Oxford, 1992), pp. 234–66; N. J. Housley, ‘France, England and the “National Crusade”, 1302–1386’, in France and the British Isles in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance: Essays by members of Girton College, Cambridge, in memory of Ruth Morgan, ed. G. Jondorf and D. Dumville (Woodbridge, 1991), pp. 183–98. Lawrence, ‘Despensers, c.1281–1400’, pp. 39–40, 153–9. N. Iorga, Philippe de Mézières, 1327–1405, et la criosade au XIVe siècle (Paris, 1896), p. 491. ‘Private Indentures’, ed. Jones and Walker, no. 85. L. A. Coote, Prophecy and Public Affairs in Later Medieval England (York, 2000), p. 156. E 401/614, sub 30 June. J. Froissart, Oeuvres, ed. K. de Lettenhove, 26 vols (Brussels, 1867–77), XVI, pp. 107–8.

154

Martyn Lawrence

How long the prospect of a crusade was entertained is hard to say. On 4 December 1399 Despenser was invited to Henry IV’s council and may have considered returning to the fold.60 Meanwhile, the ill-fated Epiphany Plot was hatched, and by 20 December Despenser had thrown in his lot with Rutland, Kent and Huntingdon, Richard II’s other disgraced followers. He laid in food and drink at Hanley for what would be his final Christmas.61 Once again, the chronicle accounts of the rising are difficult to reconcile.62 The discredited Chronicque de la Traison et Mort de Richard II describes how Despenser evaded capture when barricaded in a Cirencester inn by climbing out of a window, firing the building and escaping to Wales.63 More plausibly, but less dramatically, the monk of Evesham (who probably got his information from nearby Tewkesbury) suggests that Despenser remained at Cardiff awaiting the outcome of events.64 In another striking parody of 1326, Thomas panicked on hearing of the plot’s failure and tried to flee to the continent by boat. Seventy-three years earlier, Hugh the younger and Edward II had attempted the same from Bristol but an ill wind had blown them back into Cardiff bay.65 In both cases treachery was afoot. In February 1327, Queen Isabella awarded the ship in which Edward II had sailed to the mariners as reward for services rendered during the invasion.66 It seems likely that the wind was only partly to blame, and that the sailors had been paid off in advance. Thomas Despenser, by contrast, got clear of the land but, as the Vita Ricardi Secundi describes, was ambushed on board ship in the Severn:67 Once they had set sail and travelled a fair distance from the shore, the captain said to him, ‘Where are you planning on going, my lord?’ ‘Abroad’, he replied. To which the captain said, ‘I shall have to take you to Bristol’. ‘Under no circumstances will you dare to do any such thing’, he replied, ‘for before you do so you will die by the sword’. But the other said, ‘There is no point in your continuing to argue about it, for whether you like it or not that is where you are going’.

60 PPC, I, p. 100. Remarkably, even in the midst of the 1399 parliament, when all was crumbling around

61 62

63

64 65

66 67

him, Thomas seems to have had little concern for his situation, still finding time to send men out to purchase shoes and clothes. E 101/511/29/2, dated 14 November and endorsed ‘donne de sous nostre signet a cause qe nostre grand seal est debruse’. E 101/511/29/1. The fullest account of the rising remains J. H. Wylie, History of England under Henry the Fourth, 4 vols (London, 1884–98), I, pp. 91–110. See also A. Rogers, ‘Henry IV and the Revolt of the Earls, 1400’, History Today 16 (1968), pp. 277–83; D. Crook, ‘Central England and the Revolt of the Earls, January 1400’, BIHR 64 (1991), pp. 403–10; J. L. Leland, ‘The Oxford Trial of 1400: Royal Politics and the County Gentry’, in The Age of Richard II, ed. J. L. Gillespie (Stroud, 1997), pp. 165–89. For the accompanying discontent in Richard’s ‘inner citadel’ of Chester: P. McNiven, ‘The Cheshire Rising of 1400’, Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 52 (1970), pp. 375–96. Chronicque de la Traison et Mort de Richart Deux Roy Dengleterre, ed. B. Williams (London, 1846), pp. 243–4. For an assessment of the accuracy of the Traison et Mort, see J. J. N. Palmer, ‘The Authorship, Date and Historical Value of the French Chronicles on the Lancastrian Revolution’, Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 61 (1978–9), pp. 145–81, 328–421. Historia Vitae et Regni Ricardi Secundi, ed. G. B. Stow (Philadelphia, 1977), p. 164. Cambridge, Trinity College Library MS R. 5. 41, fol. 122v. London, Society of Antiquaries MS 122, fol. 45v, records a payment of nine shillings to Father Richard Bliton, a Carmelite friar and Despenser’s confessor, to pray to St Anne for a ‘bon vent’. CPR 1327–30, p. 6. Vita Ricardi Secundi, pp. 164–5. I have used the translation in Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 238–9.

‘Too Flattering Sweet to be Substantial’

155

At that moment twenty well-armed men rushed out from their hiding place below deck and overpowered Despenser and his men. They carried him back to Bristol and handed him over to the mayor on 11 January. The jewels he had taken with him in his flight were apparently looted, and the £30 in gold and silver that Thomas carried in his pocket was not enough to sway the local official. Two days later he was seized by a frenzied mob and beheaded without trial before the High Cross. His head – like that of the younger Hugh – was sent to London, paraded down Cheapside and spiked atop a pole on the south side of London Bridge.76 All estates were declared forfeit and the reversal of the sentence of 1327 was itself revoked.69 Afterwards, all that remained was for the division of the spoils. Not surprisingly – yet somewhat ironically – this consisted of the fine clothes Despenser had been wearing when he died. The king’s esquire Ralph Ramsey received a short hanselyn, or loose outer garment, with silver-gilt spangles, and William Flaxman ‘a furred gown of motley velvet or damask’.70 Two tuns of red wine, possibly the supplies ordered in for Christmas, were granted to Katherine Beauchamp,71 and Constance Despenser was given the £30 of gold and silver that her husband had carried.72 Most of Despenser’s men changed sides swiftly: his life retainer, John Wilcotes of Great Tew (Oxon.), managed to get his fee confirmed by Henry IV just weeks after the executions in Bristol.73 Wilcotes must have gone at once to Henry when Despenser fled from Cardiff, abandoning his lord in favour of his own salvation. He later served the earl of Stafford, the earl marshal (before he too was implicated in rebellion) and finally the Prince of Wales.74 Wilcotes’ brother William acted similarly. He had served in Brittany in 1389 with Despenser’s cousin Hugh and then moved into Thomas’s circle, acting as his attorney in 1394.75 Although both men served together on peace commissions in 1397 and 1399,76 William Wilcotes was no more prepared to be tarred with the brush of rebellion than his brother. He immediately submitted to Henry IV and in November 1399 was appointed sheriff of Oxfordshire and Berkshire, an office he had held six years earlier.77 By a prudence born of long political experience, both brothers seamlessly allied themselves to the new regime. When Richard II’s duketti, stripped of their titles, rose in pathetic rebellion, their men did not follow because they saw no reason to die. Thomas Despenser’s ultimate failure resulted from his inability to engender his affinity with the same need for money and glory which Richard II had planted in him.

76 Adam Usk, pp. 90–1; Vita Ricardi Secundi, p. 165; Polychronicon Ranulphi Higden, monarchi

Cestrensis, ed. J. R. Lumby, 9 vols, Rolls Series (London, 1882), VIII, p. 512. RP, III, p. 459. CPR 1399–1402, p. 188. Ibid., p. 194 (cf. E 101/511/29/1). Ibid., p. 226. Ibid., p. 189. K. B. McFarlane, Lancastrian Kings and Lollard Knights (Oxford, 1972), pp. 76–7. For the Wilcotes family: The History of Parliament: the House of Commons 1386–1421, ed. J. R. Lander, L. Clarke and C. Rawcliffe, 4 vols (Stroud, 1993), IV, pp. 860–66; F. N. McNamara, ‘The Wilcotes Family’, The Berks, Bucks and Oxon Archaeological Journal 3 (1898), pp. 97–107; corrected by W. F. Carter, ‘The Wilcotes Family’, The Berks, Bucks and Oxon Archaeological Journal 12 (1906–7), pp. 107–13; 13 (1907–8), pp. 18–21. 75 C 76/74, m. 25; CPR 1391–6, p. 507. 76 CPR 1396–9, pp. 236, 437. 77 CFR 1399–1405, p. 1. 69 70 71 72 73 74

156

Martyn Lawrence

APPENDIX Escheators’ inquisitions for Worcester: 1–2 Henry IV (John Wasseburn) Public Record Office, E 153/190778 m. 4. [Inquisition at Upton upon Severn (Worcs.), before John Wasseburn, escheator, of goods and chattels forfeit by Thomas lord Despenser and taken into the king’s hand.] [Monday after the feast of St Peter in Cathedra, 1 Henry IV.]79 [Witnesses.] Quatuor pottes / de quyr boile debiles, precio xx d. iij botels debiles, precio ij s. j gardeviaunde debilem, precio xij d. j barhuyde debilem, precio viij d. / xxxv discos et platers de pewter veteres debiles et fractos et xiiij sawcers de eadem, precio v s. ij Cawdrons’ eneas veteres / et debiles, precio vj s viij d. ij Gyrdyres j broche ij ladeles iij skymours eneas j awle j tryvett et ij paryngknyfes, precio ij s. / Item dicunt quod die forisfacture sue habuit quinque jumente de stode et novem pullani unde j mas, precio eorundem xiiij marc’. Unum / vetus couser recrayed et pursyff, precio xiij s iiij d. xxij vaccas et j taurum, precio xij marc’ et xij d. viij boves, precio cvj s viij d. / Unum tassum siliginis, precio xl s. Unum tassum ordij, precio xl s. Unum tassum feni, precio xvj s viij d, et unum equum validum pro carectum / cum curta cauda, precio xiij s iiij d. Item dicunt super sacramentum suum quod unus equus Grey euisdem Domini Thomas le Despenser, precio xxvj s viij d, devenit ad manus Ricardi Thorp’ de comitatu Derb’ unde domino Regi est inde responsus. [Conclusion.] m. 6. [Inquisition at Hanley (Worcs.), before John Wasseburn, escheator, of goods and chattels forfeit by Thomas lord Despenser and taken into the king’s hand.]80 [Day after the feast of St Hilary, 1 Henry IV.]81 Ceste endenture tesmoigne de les parcelles des biens et chateux deliveres as Tresorer et Chamberlains nostre seigneur le Roi par John Wassheborn’ Eschetour nostre seigneur el countee de Wircestre les queux furent Thomas Despenser le sire en manere com ensuist. 78 E 153/1907 consists of six membranes, the first three of which have been removed (cf. CIPM, 18,

no. 2). Membrane five is a duplication (in Latin) of membrane six (in French), and of the two only the latter, which is far better preserved, is reproduced here. For the purposes of clarity I have expanded all abbreviations and made minimal changes to the punctuation. Interlined text is denoted . In membrane four, new lines are indicated by /. 79 24 February 1400. 80 Supplied from membrane five. 81 14 January 1400. Supplied from membrane five.

‘Too Flattering Sweet to be Substantial’

157

En primes un cofre nome standard lie ove ferr’, precio iiij s. Un autre cofre des twigges feat nome standard lie ove quir’, precio iiij s. Item deus gardeviaundes, precio ij s. Item un court gowne de blanc damask forre ove menyver, precio xxvj s viij d. Item un court Slopp’ de drap’ dor enbrode ove diverses bestes line ove blanc rowe velewet, precio xx s. Item un Jacke de rouge velewet ove un traile dor enbrode ove baskettus dargent, precio xxx s. Item un court gowne de noir velewet forre ove pure grey, precio xxx s. Auxi un doublet de blanc satyn embrode ove foilles dor, precio iij s iiij d. Auxi deus chaperouns dont lun enbrode ove gartter et lautre <noir> forre ove grey, precio iij s iiij d. Auxi treis peaires des lintheaux ove deus capitals lintheaux de drap linge, precio xxx s. Auxi neof peaires des esperouns envores dont deuz peaires neirs, precio iij s iiij d. Auxi deus petite tapits de blanc et rouge say, precio ij s. Auxi quatre peaire des chauses sembles, precio vj s viij d. Auxi deus chemises des heres, precio vj d. Auxi un mantell de noir drap’ forre ove pure grey, precio xij marcs. Auxi un gowne de noir satyn ove un traile forre ove marteron, precio xxvj s viij d. Auxi deus blankettus de fostyan, precio xxvj s viij d. Auxi un peaire des pynsomis <de rouge quer> forre ove grey, precio ij s. Auxi un toppe dargent pur un basnet envore et bose ove roses, precio viij s. Auxi un lit de seye ove cignes dor en entier seil ove treiz rydeles de rouge tartarine et deus quyssouns de mesme veil et feble, precio lxvj s viij d. Auxi deus testerz de noir say et rouge et un tapit de mesme, precio vj s viij d. Auxi seopt draps mensals treis tuels un savernap deus coppeclothes de linge drap, precio iij s iiij d. Auxi un clothsack veil et feble, precio xx d. Auxi deus verges de russet tartarine demi verge de rouge tartarine et deus verges de blaus tartarine, precio vj s viij d. Auxi xxx pensels de drap linge blanc et noir, precio iiij d. Auxi un coverture de drap’ sangweyn forre ove gres, precio xl s. Auxi un chariette ove un barhuyde et le herneis pur vj chivaux. Auxi cynk chivaux pur le dite chariette dount lun pomlygrey le seconde blanc le tierce jrungrey le quatre noir et le quinte gryselvalewe. Auxi un Prykyngpalet. Auxi un peaire des Brygaunters ceovere ove rouge quir. Auxi un peaire des leggeherneis un quisseau des mayles et deus poleyns. Auxi un blanc courser. Auxi un chival sor nome hobyn dirland. Auxi deus celles dount lun ceovere ove rouge velewet stods ove pynnapples de latoun envores ove tott un herneis et frene acordaunt ove deus frenes et herneis de skarlet de mesme acordaunce lautre celle est noir ove un cropure et frene herneise ove petits clowes de latoun envores. Auxi deus Tressyngtofres. En tesmoigniance de quele al un partie de iceste ententure remeignaunt al avauntdit Eschetour des partes lavauntdit Tresore et Chamberlains le seal de office de Receite

158

Martyn Lawrence

est mys et al autre partie de iceste ententure remeignaunt as dits Tresorer et Chamberlains le dit Eschetour aad mys son’ seal. Done a Westm’ le xxme iour de Feverer lan du regne le Roi Henry quarte prim’.

‘O Prince, Desyre to be Honourable ’

‘O PRINCE, DESYRE TO BE HONOURABLE’: THE DEPOSITION OF RICHARD II AND MIRRORS FOR PRINCES Ulrike Graßnick The year 1399 was troublesome for many in England, for the unfortunate Richard II as well as for other members within the political field, including Thomas, Lord Berkeley:1 What should he, Berkeley, do? To which side did honour and justice direct him? In his soul-searching dilemma his Lordship turned to his ageing chaplain and confessor. Trevisa was not surprised that his patron should seek his advice. Had they not often during the last ten years, and more especially in the last two, discussed theoretical situations somewhat similar to the present one, with always the ultimate question, “Is it ever morally right to rebel and depose a lawful sovereign who had received the sacring?” In hypothetical cases it had been easy to give an answer, but material as well as spiritual, rested in the balance. One also staked one’s family and fortune upon the wheel of choice. Trevisa for days had prayed hard for guidance in this tense situation. He had read and re-read the Gospels with the Master’s teaching, and pondered deeply upon the argument in the De regimine principum. But still the answer to the agonising problem was not clear.2 Obviously, this is a fictive account of the thoughts of John Trevisa and his patron on the events regarding the kingship of Richard II. However, it sheds an interesting light on the political discussions and the functions served by mirrors for princes or Fürstenspiegel during turbulent times in late medieval England. It leads to the question of whether Fürstenspiegel actually did have an influence on political events in the later Middle Ages and, if so, in what way they influenced political actions. The influence of mirrors for princes on the deposition of Richard II will be investigated in order to look anew at the interdependence of pragmatic literacy,3 textual communities,4 and political attitudes and events in late medieval England. The 1 2 3

4

Thomas IV, 5th Lord of Berkeley. See R. Hanna III, ‘Sir Thomas Berkeley and his Patronage’, Speculum 64 (1989), pp. 878–916. E. Gethyn-Jones, Trevisa of Berkeley: A Celtic Firebrand (Dursley, 1978), p. 155. Cf. D. C. Fowler, The Life and Times of John Trevisa, Medieval Scholar (Seattle, 1995). For introductory information on ‘pragmatic literacy’ see H. Keller, ‘Pragmatische Schriftlichkeit im Mittelalter. Erscheinungsformen und Entwicklungsstufen. Einführung zum Kolloquium in Münster, 17.–19. Mai 1989’, in Pragmatische Schriftlichkeit im Mittelalter. Erscheinungsformen und Entwicklungsstufen (Akten des Internationalen Kolloquiums 17.–19. Mai 1989), ed. H. Keller, K. Grubmüller and N. Staubach (Munich, 1992), pp. 1–7. See B. Stock, The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Princeton, 1983), pp. 88–92.

160

Ulrike Graßnick

example of Richard II has been chosen although and because he was ‘inadequate and unequal to the task of ruling’5 and was obviously not behaving according to Fürstenspiegel’s instructions. The events and discussions of 1399 offer an ideal ‘battleground’ for an examination of mirrors for princes within the political field.6 If Fürstenspiegel and their image of an ideal king indeed had an actual relevance, they would have been functionalized within political communication, especially for such a controversial king as Richard II. Furthermore, at the end of the fourteenth century Middle English translations of various Latin and French Fürstenspiegel appeared for the first time: Geoffrey Chaucer’s Tale of Melibee, Book VII of John Gower’s Confessio Amantis and John Trevisa’s translation of Giles of Rome’s De regimine principum were all part of the literary field.7 This article discusses the ways the texts construct the image of an ideal king as well as the texts’ function, their relevance and use in England in the late fourteenth century. In every epoch and in every political system, people judge and view the behavior and deeds of monarchs, public officials and politicians with special interest. Public executives, especially kings, have to be subject to society’s norms and ethical conventions and expectations. They have to be an optimus princeps: competent, responsible, and virtuous. These concepts and expectations are generated by society’s need for a stable political system and a reliable head of state. In the Middle Ages, the image of an ideal king and society’s expectations of a king’s behavior and political actions were partly generated by mirrors for princes, one of the most popular medieval genres. Mirrors for princes are a complex genre, and scholars yet have to agree on a definition.8 In this article, Fürstenspiegel are understood as texts of pragmatic literacy which can occur in various forms and lengths. Usually, the Middle English mirrors for princes are translations and/or compilations of French and Latin texts.9 They 5 6

7

8

9

Chronicles of the Revolution 1397–1400: The Reign of Richard II, ed. and trans. C. Given-Wilson (Manchester, 1993), p. 171. See P. Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power, ed. and intr. John B. Thompson (Cambridge, 1991), pp. 171–202, and idem, Das politische Feld. Zur Kritik der politischen Vernunft (Konstanz, 2001). See also idem, The Rules of Art (Cambridge, 1996) for a discussion of the concept of ‘literary field’. The Riverside Chaucer, ed. L. D. Benson, new edn (Oxford, 1987), pp. 23–328 (pp. 217–39); J. Gower, The English Works of John Gower, Vol. II: Confessio Amantis, Prol.–Lib. V.1970; Vol. III: Confessio Amantis, Lib. V.1971 – Lib. VIII; In Praise of Peace, ed. G. C. Macaulay (Oxford, 1901); J. Trevisa, The Governance of Kings and Princes: John Trevisa’s Middle English Translation of the ‘De Regimine Principum’ of Aegidius Romanus, ed. D. C. Fowler, C. F. Briggs and P. G. Remley (London, 1997); Aegidius Romanus, De regimine principum, ed. Hieronymus Samaritanius (Rome, 1607; repr. Aalen, 1967). See, for example, C. J. Nederman, ‘The Mirror Crack’d: The Speculum Principum as Political and Social Criticism in the Late Middle Ages’, The European Legacy 3 (1998), pp. 18–38. For information on Middle English mirrors for princes see J. Ferster, Fictions of Advice: The Literature and Politics of Council in Late Medieval England (Philadelphia, 1996); R. F. Green, Poets and Princepleasers: Literature and the English Court in the Late Middle Ages (London, 1980), especially chap. 5; M. L. Kekewich, ‘Books of Advice for Princes in Fifteenth Century England with Particular Reference to the Period 1450–1485’ (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, The Open University, 1987); W. Kleineke, Englische Fürstenspiegel vom Policraticus Johanns v. Salisbury bis zum Basilikon Doron König Jakobs I. (Halle, 1937). For the concept of compilatio and its implications see N. Hathaway, ‘Compilatio: From Plagiarism to Compiling’, Viator 20 (1989), pp. 19–44; A. J. Minnis, ‘Late-Medieval Discussions of Compilatio and the Role of the Compilator’, Beiträge zur Geschichte der Deutschen Sprache und Literatur 101 (1979), pp. 385–421; M. B. Parkes, ‘The Influence of the Concepts of Ordinatio and Compilatio on the Development of the Book’, in Medieval Learning and Literature: Essays Presented to Richard William Hunt, ed. J. J. G. Alexander, M. T. Gibson and R. W. Southern (Oxford, 1976), pp. 115–46.

‘O Prince, Desyre to be Honourable’

161

intend to educate and advise kings and princes about governmental competence, soft skills and personal behavior; they deal with the body natural and the body politic by constructing the image of an ideal king. Their ideas are transmitted via models of princely behavior which are an abstractum on the texts’ meta-level. Models of princely behavior are constituted by the Fürstenspiegel’s instructions concerning subjects such as vices and virtues, the king’s health, the king’s wife, children, servants, nobles and subjects, questions of governing, financial policy, counsellors, and war and peace. The most important models of princely behavior include the king as a person, the king as the head of the family and the household, and the king as the head of state. The existence of at least the first and third of these models is a defining aspect of the genre. However, the texts can and do vary in their content. As the instructions given in the mirrors for princes are very abstract and lack situational specificity, a reader must actively analyze them if he is to apply them in daily life. Rather than transmitting specific rules the texts want a ruler who behaves like an ideal king in every situation. They hope to influence the ‘habitus’ of the kings and princes: mirrors for princes demand that a king behave and act politically in a correct and consistent way; they want the king to act according to their image of an ideal king in every situation.10 Beyond educating the social and political elite, mirrors for princes offer other social groups the theoretical background against which they can develop their expectations of the king’s behavior and his political actions. In constructing the image of an ideal king, the texts are also implicitly critical, because real kings are inevitably unable to fulfill that image. In this sense, mirrors for princes reveal the discrepancy between actual and expected behavior. They generate and mirror social norms and values, and, rather than rules, the instructions offer principles of behavior. In his influential study on Poets and Princepleasers, Richard F. Green states that ‘[t]he Secretum and its derivatives are handbooks for rulers, and though we may find it curious to conceive of a medieval king attempting to govern “by the book”, it seems that this may often have been the case’.11 This conclusion may be disputed: although mirrors for princes do not offer kings and princes rules to govern by, they do transmit normative models of princely behavior that influence and shape the structure of the political field as well as the social set of values, and they are, at the same time, influenced and shaped by them. However, Fürstenspiegel are more than merely theoretical treatises, for, by constructing the image of an ideal king, they have a function and a relevance within political discussions.12 They are subject to social and ethical principles, the most important one being the fostering of the common profit:13 ‘
if oo lord desireth comyn profit and profite of sogettes, þanne þat lordschipe is icleped monarchia and a regne: for a kyng scholde desire comyn profite.’14 A monarch can only gain common profit if he behaves and acts virtu-

10 See also U. Graßnick, Ratgeber des Königs. Fürstenspiegel und Herrscherideal im spätmittel-

alterlichen England (Cologne, 2004), especially pp. 39–44 and 332–4.

11 Green, Poets and Princepleasers, p. 140. 12 Cf. D. Pearsall, ‘Hoccleve’s Regement of Princes: The Poetics of Royal Self-Representation’,

Speculum 69 (1994), pp. 386–410 (p. 386).

13 For information on the common profit see M. S. Kempshall, The Common Good in Late Medieval

Political Thought (Oxford, 1999).

14 Trevisa, Governance of Kings and Princes, p. 325, lines 12–4.

162

Ulrike Graßnick

ously and morally.15 A ‘verrey kyng’16 embodies virtues and morality and is as a public persona living law and living justice:17 That kyng that kyngly is of governance, That is to seyn, dooth justly his office, Of love and pees and reste he is norice.18 As all of the details and events of Richard II’s reign cannot be discussed here, we will concentrate on the most important aspects of the mirrors for princes and their role in the deposition scenario of September 1399.19 Fürstenspiegel were clearly part of the political communication and shaped political attitudes and actions. Should mirrors for princes indeed have a tangible political relevance, these texts will have been functionalized within political communication, especially for such an exceptional and important event as a deposition. The connection between mirrors for princes, especially Giles of Rome’s De regimine principum, and England’s political field in the later fourteenth century has often been voiced.20 However, such a connection is difficult to prove owing to the lack of sources. It is known that Sir Simon Burley (1336–88), tutor to young Richard II, owned a French version of the De regimine principum.21 For a long time, scholars have argued that the king had been educated with and by this text and had adopted its ideas.22 Yet the evidence is only that the De regimine principum appears in Sir Simon Burley’s inventory. This only proves that he owned this Fürstenspiegel, which does not necessarily indicate that he actually read the text, much less that he believed in Giles of Rome’s political ideas or educated his royal pupil with its models of princely behavior. It cannot be claimed that Richard II himself read the text and developed his autocratic concept of kingship from it.23 As a matter of fact, we are not able to prove a connection between most of the protagonists of this time and mirrors for princes beyond Richard II and Henry Bolingbroke.24 There are, 15 N. Perkins, Hoccleve’s ‘Regiment of Princes’: Counsel and Constraint (Cambridge, 2001), pp. 33–4. 16 Trevisa, Governance of Kings and Princes, p. 347, line 35. 17 Cf. E. H. Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies. A Study in Mediaeval Political Theology (Princeton,

1957), p. 134.

18 T. Hoccleve, The Regiment of Princes, ed. C. R. Blyth, Middle English Texts (Kalamazoo, 1999), lines

2873–5.

19 For information on Richard II and his reign see particularly M. J. Bennett, Richard II and the Revolu-

20

21

22

23

24

tion of 1399 (Stroud, 1999); G. Dodd, ed., The Reign of Richard II (Stroud, 2000); A. Goodman and J. L. Gillespie, eds, Richard II: The Art of Kingship (Oxford, 1999); and N. E. Saul, Richard II (New Haven, 1997). See for example R. H. Jones, The Royal Policy of Richard II: Absolutism in the Later Middle Ages (Oxford, 1968), p. 161, and Saul, Richard II, p. 449. See also C. F. Briggs, Giles of Rome’s ‘De Regimine Principum’: Reading and Writing Politics at Court and University, c.1275–c.1525 (Cambridge, 1999), p. 71. For information on Sir Simon Burley see Saul, Richard II, pp. 112–17. Sir Simon Burley owned twenty-two books and among those were eight romances, some religious and philosophical treatises and a ‘liure de gouernement de Roys & du prynces’. See V. J. Scattergood, ‘Two Medieval Book Lists’, The Library 5th ser. 23 (1968), pp. 236–8 (p. 237). For information on Richard’s childhood and education see A. Reitemeier, ‘Born to be a Tyrant? The Childhood and Education of Richard II’, Fourteenth Century England II, ed. C. Given-Wilson (Woodbridge, 2000), pp. 147–58. This assumption holds true for every book owner. See V. J. Scattergood, ‘Literary Culture at the Court of Richard II’, in English Court Culture in the Later Middle Ages, ed. V. J. Scattergood and J. W. Sherborne (London, 1983), pp. 29–43 (p. 36). Gower dedicates the first recension of his Confessio Amantis to Richard II (Confessio Amantis, Prol.,

‘O Prince, Desyre to be Honourable’

163

however, some remarkable exceptions. Firstly, there is Thomas of Woodstock (1355–97), duke of Gloucester and Richard’s uncle. He is the only Lord Appellant other than Henry Bolingbroke who owned a mirror for princes, a Latin version of Giles of Rome’s De regimine principum. The book was part of his library at Pleshey Castle and is listed in an inventory at the time of his death.25 We cannot know whether he already owned the Fürstenspiegel when he was active as an Appellant. Moreover, we cannot know for sure whether he had ever read the Fürstenspiegel or was motivated by its content in his political actions. Secondly, there is Thomas IV, 5th Lord Berkeley (1352–1417). He commissioned John Trevisa’s translation of Giles of Rome’s De regimine principum and most likely knew The Governance of Kings and Princes, which had been finished by 1392.26 Thomas, Lord Berkeley is the only person among those who visited Richard II in the Tower of London on 26 September 1399 to accept the king’s resignation for whom a connection to a mirror for princes can be proven.27 Even before this day, Berkeley had been involved in the events of 1399: in July, Henry Bolingbroke met with Edmund of Langley (1341–1402), 28 Keeper of the Realm, in a church near Berkeley Castle while Richard II was on an expedition in Ireland, and the duke of

25

26

27

28

24* and VIII, 3050–1*). In 1391, Richard II probably received a manuscript – Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Bodley 581 – which contains the Latin mirror for princes De quadripartita speculum regis specie libellum. It is also likely that Richard II commissioned this manuscript. This mirror for princes is a shorter version of the Secretum Secretorum. Cf. P. J. Eberle, ‘Richard II and the Literary Arts’, in Goodman and Gillespie, Richard II: The Art of Kingship, pp. 231–53 (pp. 241–4). For information on Richard II’s books see J.-P. Genet, ‘Les princes anglais et l’histoire à fin du moyen âge’, in Les princes et l’histoire du XIVe au XVIIIe siècle. Actes du colloque organisé par l’Universtité de Versailles – Saint Quentin et l’Institut Historique Allemand, Paris/Versailles, 13–16 mars 1996, ed. C. Grell, W. Paravicini and J. Voss (Bonn, 1998), pp. 263–96 (pp. 284–5); R. F. Green, ‘King Richard II’s Books Revisited’, The Library 5th ser. 31 (1976), pp. 235–9; E. Rickert, ‘King Richard II’s Books’, The Library 4th ser. 13 (1933), pp. 144–5; R. S. Loomis, ‘The Library of Richard II’, in Studies in Language, Literature, and Culture of the Middle Ages and Later. In Honour of Rudolph Willard, ed. E. B. Atwood and A. A. Hill (Austin, 1969), pp. 173–8. Gower dedicates the second recension of Confessio Amantis to Henry Bolingroke (Confessio Amantis, Prol. 87). One of its manuscripts – San Marino, Huntington Library MS El.26.A.17 – was probably produced for Henry Bolingbroke, as illustrational emblems show the Bohun swan, which belongs to his first wife’s family (Mary de Bohun). This manuscript is the earliest witness to the second recension of this text that we know of and was probably the author’s presentation copy. Cf. A. I. Doyle, ‘English Books In and Out of Court from Edward III to Henry VII’, in Scattergood and Sherborne, English Court Culture, pp. 163–81 (p. 169–70); and P. Nicholson, ‘Poet and Scribe in the Manuscripts of Gower’s Confessio Amantis’, in Manuscripts and Texts. Editorial Problems in Later Middle English Literature: Essays from the 1985 Conference at the University of York, ed. D. Pearsall (Cambridge, 1987), pp. 130–42 (p. 132). See for Henry’s and his wives’ books Genet, ‘Les princes anglais’, p. 285. Cf. A. Goodman, ‘Richard II’s Councils’, in Goodman and Gillespie, Richard II: The Art of Kingship, pp. 59–85 (p. 62); and V. Dillon and W. H. St J. Hope, ‘Inventory of the Goods and Chattels belonging to Thomas Duke of Gloucester’, Archaeological Journal 54 (1897), pp. 275–308 (pp. 300–3). The translation has only survived in one manuscript: Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Digby 233. It was produced in the early fifteenth century (c. 1408) and was probably based on Trevisa’s autograph. For the manuscript see C. F. Briggs, ‘MS Digby 233 and the Patronage of John Trevisa’s De regimine principum’, English Manuscript Studies 1100–1700 7 (1998), pp. 249–63. The persons are named in the Record and Process of Richard II’s Renunciation and Deposition; Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 68, 169; and in The Chronicle of Adam Usk 1377–1421, ed. and trans. C. Given-Wilson (Oxford, 1997), pp. 66, 68. He was the fifth son of Edward III and uncle to Henry and Richard. See, for Edmund of Langley, D. L. Biggs, ‘ “A Wrong which Conscience and Kindred Bid Me to Right”: A Reassessment of Edmund of Langley, Duke of York, and the Usurpation of Henry IV’, Albion 26 (1994), pp. 253–72.

164

Ulrike Graßnick

York worked out an agreement with his usurping nephew and changed sides. Henry Bolingbroke was accompanied by, among others, Lord Berkeley.29 The methodological problems of analyzing the Fürstenspiegel’s social functions at the historical distance of six centuries have become quite clear. Mere proof of ownership does not necessarily indicate that the owner actually read the text or that he decided to partake in specific political actions after reading it. However, the intention of this article is not to conduct historical reader-interest research.30 Rather, it wants to look at the relevance and function of the texts within the literary and political field in late medieval England. How can this literary and political field be constructed? Does the examination of Richard II’s deposition offer any insight into ways of functionalizing mirrors for princes? Within this discussion, correspondence between the content and concept of the mirrors for princes and actions within the political field is of central importance: this correspondence hints at the possible functions and uses of the genre. The ideas and contents of the texts were part of the education of aristocrats and, of course, other influences beyond mirrors for princes shaped their political attitudes.31 It is therefore highly likely that noblemen such as John of Gaunt and Michael de la Pole – to name two important figures of late fourteenth-century England who obviously did not own a mirror for princes – knew the Fürstenspiegel’s contents and concepts, as the texts can be regarded as public poetry.32 They did not necessarily have to read the texts to know this, or to act according to the texts’ instructions: ‘What was essential to a textual community was not a written version of a text, although that was sometimes present, but an individual, who, having mastered it, then utilized it for reforming a group’s thought and action.’33 The Fürstenspiegel were negotiated within the textual community, and, because of the political nature of the texts, shaped the structure of the political field. After facing a great many political problems in the 1380s, England and Richard II experienced almost calm times in the 1390s. However, by 1397 criticism was on the rise which culminated in the charge of tyranny, as Thomas Walsingham’s famous comment shows: ‘he began to tyrannise and burden his people’.34 The beginning of Richard II’s end was the revenge he took on three of the five Lords Appellant in 1397:35 ‘Tres sunt antiqui proceres, quos regis iniqui/ Ira magis nouit, et eos occidere vouit.’36 At the same time, the king began to promote loyal nobles 29 Given-Wilson, Revolution, p. 127. 30 For introductory information on reader-interest research see G. Jäger, ‘Historische Lese(r)forschung’,

31

32 33 34

35

36

in Die Erforschung der Buch- und Bibliotheksgeschichte in Deutschland, ed. W. Arnold (Wiesbaden, 1987), pp. 485–507. On the nobility’s education see N. Orme, From Childhood to Chivalry: The Education of the English Kings and Aristocracy 1066–1530 (London, 1984), and idem, Education and Society in Medieval and Renaissance England (London, 1989). Cf. A. Middleton, ‘The Idea of Public Poetry in the Reign of Richard II’, Speculum 53 (1978), pp. 94–114 (p. 100). Stock, Implications of Literacy, p. 90. Given-Wilson, Revolution, p. 71. For Thomas Walsingham’s depiction of Richard II see G. B. Stow, ‘Richard II in Thomas Walsingham’s Chronicles’, Speculum 59 (1984), pp. 68–102. For introductory information on Thomas Walsingham see J. G. Clark, ‘Thomas Walsingham Reconsidered: Books and Learning at St. Albans’, Speculum 77 (2002), pp. 832–60. Richard FitzAlan, earl of Arundel, was beheaded, Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloucester, was carried off to Calais and probably murdered, and Thomas Beauchamp, earl of Warwick, was sent into exile on the Isle of Man. J. Gower, ‘Cronica Tripertita’, The Complete Works of John Gower, Vol. IV: The Latin Works, ed.

‘O Prince, Desyre to be Honourable’

165

and flattering favorites in order to enhance a closer relationship with them.37 After 1397, Richard II had only a small group of courtiers as counsellors, who agreed with his political attitude and practice of kingship and who would not criticize any of his actions or give honest advice. The official king’s council was mainly ignored. This treatment of his favorites and counsellors made Richard II highly unpopular.38 Beyond his close friends, hardly anyone respected his practice of kingship and numerous accusations were voiced: people criticized his order to control the correspondence of members of the court, the tightened oaths the sheriffs had to swear, and the blank charters which were supposed to support his autocratic position.39 Instead of stabilizing his reign by employing this policy, Richard II lost prestige and caused even more criticism. Accusations were voiced regarding the king’s financial policy, including the king and queen’s luxurious lifestyle, and his Cheshire archers.40 People also criticized Richard II for exiling Henry Bolingbroke and Thomas Mowbray.41 Owing to the king’s failure to build up a decent relationship with important social groups such as London’s population,42 the economically potent merchants, and the gentry, he lacked the support necessary to retain the throne when Henry Bolingbroke took his chance in 1399.43 Richard II was not able to accumulate sufficient symbolic capital to secure and legitimate his reign.44 All the different status groups criticizing the king – members of the peerage and the gentry as well as the merchants – were members of the late medieval English political field. The political field as defined by Pierre Bourdieu is ‘understood both as a field of forces and as a field of struggles aimed at transforming the relation of forces which confers on this field its structure at any given moment’.45 The members of the political field and their political influence are defined by their position within the field, that is by the amount of economic, cultural, social, and symbolic capital they own. Depending on their position, people have more or less influence on the field’s structure, that is on the political set of values and norms as

37 38

39

40

41 42 43 44 45

G. C. Macaulay (Oxford, 1902), pp. 314–43, I, lines 23–4. See on Gower’s Cronica Tripertita F. Grady, ‘The Generation of 1399’, in The Letter of the Law: Legal Practice and Literary Production in Medieval England, ed. E. Steiner and C. Barrington (London, 2002), pp. 202–29, especially pp. 207–10, 223. He promoted five new dukes, a duchess, a marquis, and four earls. Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 54–62, 64–8, 71–5, 83–5, 94–6. See Bennett, Richard II and the Revolution, pp. 100–6. See Saul, Richard II, pp. 391–2; R. Horrox, ‘Caterpillars of the Commonwealth? Courtiers in Late Medieval England’, in Rulers and Ruled in Late Medieval England: Essays Presented to Gerald Harriss, ed. R. F. Archer and S. Walker (London, 1995), pp. 1–15 (p. 10), and C. Given-Wilson, The Royal Household and the King’s Affinity: Service, Politics and Finance in England 1360–1413 (New Haven, 1986), p. 25. See Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 76–7, 98, 181–2; C. M. Barron, ‘The Tyranny of Richard II’, BIHR 41 (1968), pp. 1–18 (pp. 10–14); and eadem, ‘The Art of Kingship: Richard II, 1377–1399’, History Today 35 (June 1985), pp. 30–7. See Barron, ‘The Tyranny of Richard II’, p. 8; Given-Wilson, The Royal Household, pp. 113–15, 117–21, 140; Saul, Richard II, pp. 391–2; J. L. Gillespie, ‘Richard II’s Cheshire Archers’, Transactions of the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire 125 (1974), pp. 1–39. Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 85–93, 97, 103–4. See also Saul, Richard II, pp. 395–402. For Richard’s relationship to London see C. M. Barron, ‘Richard II and London’, in Richard II: The Art of Kingship, ed. A. Goodman and J. L. Gillespie (Oxford, 1999), pp. 129–54. Cf. G. L. Harriss, ‘Political Society and the Growth of Government in Late Medieval England’, Past & Present 128 (1993), pp. 28–57 (p. 31). ‘Symbolic capital’ is used in Pierre Bourdieu’s terms: Logic of Practice, pp. 112–21. See also idem, ‘Symbolic Power’, Critique of Anthropology 4 (1979), 77–85. Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power, p. 171.

166

Ulrike Graßnick

well as on the political actions. ‘[T]he political field is the site in which, through the competition between the agents involved in it, political products, issues, programmes, analyses, commentaries, concepts and events are created …’.46 Due to their political contents, intentions, and functions, Middle English Fürstenspiegel have to be placed in the literary field (as texts) and in the political field (as advice literature for the king). As books, the Fürstenspiegel are part of every owner’s cultural capital. However, if kings and princes own a Fürstenspiegel they also accumulate symbolic capital, because the reception of such a text is viewed as adequate princely behavior by their subjects. Cultural capital is transformed into symbolic capital. The power of kings and princes depends to a large extent on symbolic capital because it shows the prestige and acceptance that is assigned by their subjects. All of the Fürstenspiegel’s recipients, be they kings or merchants, are members of the literary and political fields. The texts influence the political attitudes of all their readers and therefore shape the structure of the political field. People beyond the social and political elite were indeed interested in Middle English Fürstenspiegel: we know of six members of the middle class who owned such texts in late medieval England.47 As will be shown, the criticism Richard II was confronted with and his loss of symbolic capital derived from his disrespect of the political set of values and norms which is shaped by this genre. The exiling of Henry Bolingbroke and the confiscation of his inheritance in May 1399 (following the death of John of Gaunt in February 1399) proved to be severe political mistakes and were the beginning of what was to come:48 the king’s deposition. Henry Bolingbroke seized the opportunity of the king’s expedition to Ireland to return home from Paris to claim his inheritance, the duchy of Lancaster. The ensuing military conflict was lost by the king, who surrendered to his cousin, was abducted and then had to submit himself to a formal deposition. Richard II’s deposition was the second usurpation of the English throne in the fourteenth century: his great-grandfather, Edward II, had experienced the same fate in 1327.49 Just as Edward II’s deposition had lacked a legal basis, so did Richard II’s. After all, he was 46 Ibid., p. 172. 47 John Brinchele (d. 1420), a London tailor (see S. H. Cavanaugh, ‘A Study of Books Privately Owned

in England 1300–1450’ [unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 1980], p. 139); John Carpenter (d. 1442), son of a London merchant and Town Clerk of the City of London (see Cavanaugh, ‘Study of Books’, pp. 167–9); John Shirley (c. 1366–1456), a London scribe (see M. Connolly, John Shirley: Book Production and the Noble Household in Fifteenth-Century England [Aldershot, 1998], pp. 104–6, 111, 126–31); William Sonnyng (early fifteenth century), a London merchant and Alderman of Calais (see C. F. Briggs, ‘Manuscripts of Giles of Rome’s De regimine principum in England, 1300–1500: A Handlist’, Scriptorium 97 [1993], pp. 60–73 [p. 70], no. 36); Roger Marchall (c. 1436–77), a doctor (see L. E. Voigts, ‘A Doctor and his Books: The Manuscripts of Roger Marchall (d. 1477)’, in New Science out of Old Books: Studies in Manuscripts and Early Printed Books in Honour of A. I. Doyle, ed. R. Beadle and A. J. Piper [Aldershot, 1995], pp. 249–314, especially pp. 281–2); and Geoffrey Spirleng (c.1426–c.1494), Guild Official and Town Clerk in Norwich (see R. Beadle, ‘Geoffrey Spirleng (c. 1426–c. 1494): a Scribe of the Canterbury Tales in his Time’, in Of the Making of Books: Medieval Manuscripts, their Scribes and Readers. Essays presented to M. B. Parkes, ed. P. R. Robinson and R. Zim [Aldershot, 1997], pp. 116–46). 48 Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 85–93, 97, 103–4. 49 See for Edward II’s deposition N. Fryde, The Tyranny and Fall of Edward II, 1321–1326 (Cambridge, 1979), and C. Valente, ‘The Deposition and Abdiction of Edward II’, EHR 113 (1998), pp. 852–81. Richard II was obviously very aware of the fact that his deposition was no isolated case in English history. Adam of Usk relates his lament of 21 September 1399: ‘ “My God, this is a strange and fickle land, which has exiled, slain, destroyed, and ruined so many kings, so many rulers, so many great men, and which never ceases to be riven and worn down by dissensions and strife and internecine

‘O Prince, Desyre to be Honourable’

167

a crowned and anointed king, and his opposition needed a formal deposition to offer Henry Bolingbroke some justification and legitimation.50 While Richard II was imprisoned in the Tower of London, a commission began planning his formal deposition. They agreed that Richard II needed to be deposed due to inadequate government and unseemly behavior, and they accepted his resignation on 29 September 1399.51 The Record and Process of Richard II’s Renunciation and Deposition provides the following declaration from the king: I confess, acknowledge, recognise, and from my own certain knowledge truly admit that I have been and am entirely inadequate and unequal to the task of ruling and governing the aforesaid kingdoms and dominions and all that pertains to them, and that, on account of my notorious insufficiencies, I deserve to be deposed from them.52 This declaration is shaped by the topos of the incompetent ruler and has a forceful effect because a competent king is a standard demand of the political advice literature: ‘a prince nedeþ excellent wisdom by þe whiche he may cunne rewle oþere’.53 In its concept it foreshadows the 33 articles of deposition which were read out aloud, evaluated and, without any significant resistance, declared sufficient to depose Richard II. Henry Bolingbroke was elected king, and the coronation was set for 13 October 1399. 54 The articles of deposition, as well as Richard II’s treatment in the historiography of the fifteenth century, mirror the deposed king as an ideal anti-king, being the exact opposite of the Fürstenspiegel’s concepts:55 Richard II was deposed owing to his incompetence and his immoral deeds. The articles demonstrate that the political public saw a conflict between Richard’s concept and practice of kingship, and the ethical and political conventions and norms. The usurpers criticized his personal qualities as well as his qualities as a king, his body natural and his body politic. 56 Within our discussion, the truth of these accusations is of secondary relevance. However, by comparing the articles of deposition with the political ideas transmitted

50 51 52 53 54

55

56

hatreds”. And he recounted the names and the histories of those who had suffered such fates, from the time when the realm was first inhabited.’ Adam of Usk, Chronicle, p. 65. Cf. Saul, Richard II, p. 418. Adam of Usk, Chronicle, pp. 66, 68. Given-Wilson, Revolution, p. 171. Trevisa, Governance of Kings and Princes, p. 396, lines 3–5. Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 162–7: ‘The Manner of King Richard’s Renunciation’. See for this text C. Given-Wilson, ‘The Manner of King Richard’s Renunciation: A “Lancastrian Narrative”?’, EHR 108 (1993), pp. 365–70; Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 169–72: ‘The Record and Process of Richard II’s Renunciation and Deposition’. Cf. C. M. Barron, ‘The Deposition of Richard II’, in Politics and Crisis in Fourteenth-Century England, ed. J. Taylor and W. Childs (Gloucester, 1990), pp. 132–49 (pp. 133–6). Foremost, the chronicles draw a very negative image of the deposed king. This is hardly surprising as they are mostly produced after Richard II’s death and transmit a Lancastrian perspective. On the treatment of Richard II in chronicles see L. D. Duls, Richard II in the Early Chronicles (The Hague, 1975); Stow, ‘Richard II in Thomas Walsingham’s Chronicles’; idem, ‘Richard II in Jean Froissart’s Chroniques’, Journal of Medieval History 11 (1985), pp. 333–45; idem, ‘Chronicles versus Records: The Character of Richard II’, in Documenting the Past: Essays in Medieval History Presented to George Peddy Cuttino, ed. J. S. Hamilton and P. J. Bradley (Woodbridge, 1989), pp. 155–76; J. Taylor, ‘Richard II in the Chronicles’, in Richard II: The Art of Kingship, ed. Goodman and Gillespie, pp. 15–35. See also S. Walker, ‘Richard II’s Reputation’, in Reign of Richard II, ed. Dodd, pp. 119–28. See W. H. Dunham, Jr, and C. T. Wood, ‘The Right to Rule in England: Deposition and the Kingdom’s Authority, 1327–1485’, American Historical Review 81 (1976), pp. 738–61, especially pp. 744–6.

168

Ulrike Graßnick

by mirrors for princes, we can illustrate if and how the articles should be seen as a product and a reflection of the rules, political ideas, and ethical conventions presented in these texts. In doing so, we can demonstrate to what extent the genre functioned as a tool for shaping political thoughts and attitudes of members of the political field.57 Indeed, most of the articles of deposition find support and legitimation in mirrors for princes. The articles of deposition necessarily contain details and relate to specific situations and/or persons in order to accuse the king effectively. The king presented in these articles contrasts with the image of the ideal king constructed in the Fürstenspiegel. Beyond the detailed accusations, however, the articles reflect overall political concepts which agree with the mirrors for princes. Therefore, the articles of deposition can be regarded as a positive as well as a negative reflection of the mirrors for princes and their instructions.58 Article 1 calls Richard II a criminal because he condemned three of the Lords Appellant although they had been pardoned. Articles 9, 11, and 12 judge the king’s actions against Henry Bolingbroke as illegal, as do articles 30 and 33 with regard to his actions against Thomas Arundel. Also, the articles which deal with violations of the Magna Carta (articles 26, 27 and 29) have to be seen in this context. In article 16, Richard II is accused of not meeting his legislative responsibility as he neither enacted proper laws nor respected the law. Articles 5–8, 19–21, and 23 accuse the king of a violent practice of kingship and of putting constant pressure on his subjects by threatening them. Article 16 can be cited to provide an example: Item: the king, not wishing to uphold or dispense the rightful laws and customs of the realm, but preferring to act according to his own arbitrary will and to do whatever he wished, at times when his justices or others of his council expounded to him upon the laws of the realm and asked him to do justice according to those laws, frequently replied and declared expressly, with an austere and determined expression, that his laws were in his mouth, or, at other times, that they were in his breast; and that he alone could change or make the laws of his kingdom. And thus led astray by his own opinions, he frequently failed to do justice to his liegemen, but forced many, through fear and threats, to desist from the pursuit of common justice. 59 Fürstenspiegel demand of kings and princes the exact opposite behavior: they warn kings of ruling by violence and threats: ‘a kyng schal nou
t trowe þat he is in welþe and in felicite
if he is a lord by violens and by cyuyle my
t and strenghte. For soche lordschipe is violent and a
ens kynde and may nou
t longe dure.’60 Kings should not be tyrants because such a rule provokes uprisings and cannot last: For þese causes men risen a
enst a tiraunt. Þanne for no risynge scholde be a
enst a kyng and for a kyng scholde not al|wey drede to be slayn of his 57 See also Ferster, Fictions of Advice, pp. 133–4. 58 We will largely ignore the articles’ specifications, and focus on their general accusations and political

concept in order to compare them with the mirrors for princes. The articles of deposition are briefly summarized in ‘The Manner of King Richard’s Renunciation’ (Given-Wilson, Revolution, p. 165). They are listed in the ‘Record and Process of Richard II’s Renunciation and Deposition’ (GivenWilson, Revolution, pp. 172–84). The numbering in this article follows this source. They are organized and discussed here based on their content. For a discussion of the articles see, for example, A. Tuck, Richard II and the English Nobility (London, 1973), chap. 7. 59 Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 177–8. 60 Trevisa, Governance of Kings and Princes, p. 25, lines 37–40.

‘O Prince, Desyre to be Honourable’

169

sogettes, þei scholde most besiliche be waar þat he bycome not a tyrant. For
if he doþ sogettes non wrong, he is continent and sobre and lyueþ not bestial lyf þat is to despisyng; he werschepeþ gentel men and oþere þat ben in þe regne as heere astaat axeþ; þei spoylen hem not noþer ouersetten hem, but he bereþ hym in alle thinges not as a tyraunt but as a verrey kyng; and makeþ al men þat ben in þe regne louye hym and bynemen hem al malice and cause whi þei scholde rise a
enste hym.61 Thomas Hoccleve in his Regiment of Princes for the future Henry V, knowing what happened to Richard II, emphasizes this aspect: ‘If he his peple oppresse, it is no faille,/ They love him nat in no manere of weye.’62 Kings and princes are warned not to treat their subjects unjustly or deceive or cheat them: ‘a kyng scholde despise noon of his sogettes and do no man wrong’.63 Kings should be just and they should act within the law. The respect of the law is discussed in all the Fürstenspiegel. Gower in Book VII of the Confessio Amantis, for example, states: Do lawe awey, what is a king? Wher is the riht of eny thing, If that ther be no lawe in londe ? This oghte a king wel understonde, As he which is to lawe swore, That if the lawe be forbore Withouten execucioun, It makth a lond torne up so doun, Which is unto the king a sclandre.64 Kings and princes should be wise and understanding, devote themselves to legislation and justice; they should be familiar with the law, abide by it, be just and reign respectively: he þat wol rule oþere mot be intelligent, vnderstondyng and knowyng principles and pr[emissis] and he mot be resonable and konne make resons and drawe and take of þe premissis conclusions þat he wol haue; oþer he mot be intelligens, vnderstondyng and knowyng good lawes, vsages and custumes and oþere þat may be principlis and rules of workes and dedes; and he mot be resonable and knowe and se by þilke rules what is to doynge.65 They should treat their subjects justly and equally. This holds true for the common people as well as for the gentry and peerage. Kings and princes are advised to treat noble, wise and honorable men well and protect them: But a verrey kyng doþ a
enward and desireþ þe comyn profit and knoweþ þat he is iloued among þe comyns of þe regne and sleeth not but saueþ excellent men gentile and noble, and moche more his owne cosyns by þe whiche þe good staat of þe regne may be saued and ikepte.66 61 62 63 64 65 66

Ibid., p. 347, lines 20–9. Hoccleve, Regiment of Princes, lines 4819–20. Trevisa, Governance of Kings and Princes, p. 338, lines 36–7. Gower, Confessio Amantis, VII, lines 3075–83. Trevisa, Governance of Kings and Princes, p. 52, lines 25–31. Ibid., p. 340, lines 37–41.

170

Ulrike Graßnick

With regard to Richard II’s treatment of his cousin and uncle, one cannot be surprised that respective accusations were voiced in the articles of deposition. The articles that accuse Richard of exercising a tyrannical and oppressive reign appear to rely on these instructions. Articles 14 and 15 deal with financial aspects. They charge Richard II with burdening his subjects with unreasonable taxes and claim that he did not pay off his loans because the king enjoyed a luxurious lifestyle and wanted to gain personal profit. Fürstenspiegel criticize greedy and avaricious kings and princes: ‘For right as men blamen an avaricious man by cause of his scarsetee and chyncherie,/ in the same wise is he to blame that spendeth over-largely.’67 They should not acquire economic capital by over-burdening the subjects: ‘And, sire, ye shul geten richesse by youre wit and by youre travaille unto youre profit,/ and that withouten wrong or harm doynge to any oother persone.’68 Kings should be responsible for the economic well-being of their subjects: ‘for a verray kyng desireþ profit of þe sogettes, he greueth hem not noþer makeþ hem pore but fondeþ for to do hem good and profite’.69 They should spend taxes for the people: ‘þe rector of a regne scholde … spende rentes in þe profite of comynte of þe regne’.70 The Fürstenspiegel offer a variety of instructions for the authors of the articles of deposition to employ. Articles 13 and 18 criticize Richard for promoting unworthy men to the office of sheriff. Mirrors for princes, in contrast, instruct kings and princes to always select wise and good men for offices and other honors: ‘For no thing so kepeþ and saueþ polecie as for to avaunse good men and vertuous and
eue hem lordschepe and principate. Wherfore most sauacioun of polecie, wisdome, is
if þe kyng takeþ besiliche heede wha[m] he avaunceþ and setteþ in greet office and dignite.’71 The articles could rely on these statements to give their accusations credibility. Articles 2, 13, 16, 18 and 23 deal with the way Richard II maltreated members of the nobility and of his councils, including parliament. They also reflect the Fürstenspiegel, which constantly tell the king to always listen to his advisers and treat his nobles and officers well: ‘for it is not semelich to a kyng to folwe his owne heed in alle þynges | nother alwey triste in his owne sleighthe; but hym nedeth be able to lerne þat he be able to take doctrine and lore of oþere and do bi lore and conseille of þe eldeste wise barons þat loueþ þe regne’.72 Gower also propagates this advice: Forthi the lond mai wel be glad, Whos king with good conseil is lad, Which set him unto rihtwisnesse.73 Hoccleve later on also wants Henry of Monmouth and every other recipient and ‘virtual prince’74 to heed the council: 67 Chaucer, Tale of Melibee, lines 1599–1600. 68 Ibid., lines 1580–1. 69 Trevisa, Governance of Kings and Princes, p. 342, lines 17–19. See also p. 333, line 21 – p. 334, line

15, and p. 337, lines 3–10.

70 Trevisa, Governance of Kings and Princes, p. 338, lines 26–7. 71 Ibid., p. 350, lines 13–17. 72 Ibid., p. 53, lines 1–5. See also p. 126, lines 26–9. See also Chaucer, Tale of Melibee, lines 1115–19,

1137–52, 1171–91, 1194–5, 1198, 1202–5, 1211–21, 1226–8, 1241–2, 1248–56, 1308–12, 1340–7.

73 Gower, Confessio Amantis, VII, lines 4167–9. 74 M. de Certeau, The Writing of History (New York, 1988), p. 8.

‘O Prince, Desyre to be Honourable’

171

Now purpose I to trete how to a kyng It needful is to do by conseil ay, Withouten which good is he do nothyng; For a kyng is but a man soul, par fay, And be his wit nevere so good, he may Erre and mistake him othirwhyle among, Whereas good conseil may exclude a wrong.75 As the authors of the Fürstenspiegel see themselves as counsellors, it is hardly surprising that this aspect plays such a prominent role within their texts. At the same time, this prominence refers to ‘reality’, that is to the fact that real kings are in need of advice to rule adequately and generate common profit. Richard II’s cavalier attitude towards his council and parliament was therefore doomed to be criticized, especially by council members and the peerage: Item: in many great councils of the kingdom, when the lords of the realm, justices and others were charged faithfully to counsel the king on matters concerning his welfare and that of his kingdom, the aforesaid lords, justices, and others, when offering their advice according to their discretion, were often so sharply and violently rebuked and reproved by the king that they dared not speak the truth in giving their advice on such matters.76 The treatment of councils is strongly reflected in the literature of political thought in general as well as in the articles of deposition.77 A brief look at Gower’s Confessio Amantis shows us that the criticism of Richard’s personal behavior, voiced in article 25, also mirrors society’s image of the ideal king. Genius comments on Alexander the Great and explains the ‘good reule and good regiment’:78 it implies both qualities, a moral reign and appropriate personal behavior. As Nicholas Perkins has remarked: ‘His usage establishes regiment in English as a word relating to physical and moral self-control as well as the excercise of political authority.’79 This concept was obviously recognized by the authors of the articles of deposition. When Chaucer wrote his poem ‘Lak of Stedfastnesse’, he incorporated into it a very short Fürstenspiegel which is addressed directly to Richard II and which the king should have read carefully as it imparts all the important instructions the genre transmits: O prince, desyre to be honourable, Cherish thy folk and hate extorcioun. Suffre nothing that may be reprevable To thyn estat don in thy regioun. Shew forth thy swerd of castigacioun,

75 Hoccleve, Regiment of Princes, lines 4859–65. 76 Article 23: Given-Wilson, Revolution, p. 179. 77 See C. J. Nederman, ‘General Introduction: Varieties of English Political Thought, c. 1250–c. 1350’,

in Political Thought in Early Fourteenth-Century England: Treatises by Walter of Milemete, William of Pagula, and William of Ockham, ed. C. J. Nederman (Turnhout, 2002), pp. 1–14 (p. 13). 78 Gower, Confessio Amantis, VII, line 1702. 79 Perkins, Hoccleve’s ‘Regiment of Princes’, p. 131.

172

Ulrike Graßnick Dred God, do law, love trouthe and worthinesse, And wed thy folk agein to stedfastnesse.80

The comparison of the mirrors for princes with the articles of deposition shows that they share the same political concepts and expectations with regard to the image of an ideal king. The authors of the articles of deposition employ known and accepted topoi which are part of society’s ethical conventions and which surely met consensus within the political field in late medieval England. ‘The “articles of deposition” adopt a surprisingly coherent position. Some of the men involved in drawing up the indictment clearly had an interest in constitutional principles.’81 We do not know whether the authors of the articles of deposition used one or a number of mirrors for princes, whether written in Middle English, French or Latin, as a kind of copybook from which they directly adopted the articles. However, comparison of Fürstenspiegel with the articles of deposition is suggestive, as it becomes clear that they share the same set of political values and norms. Mirrors for princes were very popular, widely read and offered political source material.82 It can be assumed that their content and political concept was known to many members of the political field. By influencing these members, the texts shaped the structure of the political field, and as the articles of deposition were produced within the political field, Fürstenspiegel had an effect on them. Both Fürstenspiegel and the articles of deposition mirror the structures, norms, and values of the political field, and both are products of the structure of the literary and political field. They were created in dependence on the conditions of these fields; they shape a textual community and are utilized by this textual community. As the main intentions of the articles were the justification of Richard II’s deposition and the legitimation of Henry Bolingbroke’s reign, we can assume that concept and content were closely dependent on and related to those intentions. Therefore, the authors subjected the articles to political principles rather than to day-to-day political events, even if specific events and/or persons are named. The articles present a political attitude that meets society’s consensus. Even though Henry Bolingbroke had clearly won the ‘showdown’ of 1399, he had to justify and legitimate every step he took in order to secure the crown for the House of Lancaster. The new king needed symbolic capital to confirm the cold matters of fact. As Fürstenspiegel shape and reflect the structure of the political field, it is not surprising that the content and concept of the articles are very similar to the ideas propagated by the mirrors for princes themselves. The point of reference for each is the image of the ideal king. Therefore, the protagonists of the deposition constitute a political as well as a textual community. Fürstenspiegel provided a frame of reference that secured the acceptance of the articles of deposition and offered a basis for the political consensus in late 1399. It should be mentioned that Richard II lacked a number of the characteristics that define an ideal king, which the articles of deposition, however, ignored. For 80 The Riverside Chaucer, ed. Benson, p. 654, lines 22–8. For the political implications of the poem, see

J. Norton-Smith, ‘Textual Tradition, Monarchy, and Chaucer’s Lak of Stedfastnes’, Reading Medieval Studies 8 (1982), pp. 3–10; V. J. Scattergood, ‘Social and Political Issues in Chaucer: An Approach to Lak of Stedfastnesse’, Chaucer Review 21 (1987), pp. 469–75; and P. Strohm, ‘The Textual Environment of Chaucer’s Lak of Stedfastnesse’, in The Idea of Medieval Literature: New Essays on Chaucer and Medieval Culture in Honor of Donald R. Howard, ed. J. M. Dean and C. Zacher (Newark DE, 1992), pp. 129–42. 81 Bennett, Richard II and the Revolution, p. 182. 82 See Nederman, Political Thought, p. 2.

‘O Prince, Desyre to be Honourable’

173

example, Richard II died without having children, that is without an heir to the throne. Fürstenspiegel advise kings and princes to have good, fair, and healthy children: ‘And it is semelich þat alle citeseyns vse þe dede of wedloc in þe tyme in þe whiche is best generacioun and getynge of children. But þat is most semelich for kynges and princes, for it is semeliche þat þei haue moost semelich children and wel ischape.’83 Children secure the reign and are potential heirs to the throne. In this position they will be responsible for the common profit and therefore have to meet high standards: ‘For children of kynges and princes scholde be bettre and more good þan oþere children … For who þat rewleth oþere men scholde be wise so and redy and so good þat oþere men my
te take of hem ensample of leuyng.’84 However, none of the articles of deposition accuse the king of having failed to provide an heir. Yet, Richard II’s childlessness had been discussed in the literary and political field of late fourteenth-century England and was the cause of some concern. Chaucer’s Clerk’s Tale may serve as an example, as the ruler’s unwillingness to marry and the necessity of having an heir is the starting point of his version of the story of Walter and Grisilde: ‘Delivere us out of al this bisy drede, And taak a wyf, for hye Goddes sake! For if it so bifelle, as God forbede, That thurgh youre deeth youre lyne sholde slake, And that a straunge successour sholde take Youre heritage, O wo were us alyve! Wherfore we pray you hastily to wyve.’85 The people ask Walter to finally marry and have children, because he is obliged to provide an heir to the throne. His people expect that much from him because they rely on a secure reign. In the late fourteenth century, the Clerk’s Tale and the respective comments clearly connected to the situation of the English people, as Richard II and his queen consorts did not have any children. ‘As a study in governance, then, the Clerk’s Tale entertains Richard II’s failure as a ruler: not simply because he is (or has the potential to become) a tyrant, but because he has failed to produce an heir.’86 In omitting this problem, the articles of deposition illustrate again that their specific intentions were Henry Bolingbroke’s justification and legitimation. In this specific case, it would not have made any sense to accuse the king of being without an heir as an heir was not needed. Henry Bolingbroke himself was the new king and he had children: Henry of Monmouth, the heir to the throne and future Henry V, had been born in 1387. It was therefore neither necessary nor politically sensible to include this accusation of childlessness in the deposition process. This example also illustrates that Fürstenspiegel shape the political field on a very abstract level. They transmit transsituational models of princely behavior and therefore offer a broad potential for functionalization, for the instructions can be applied in various situa-

83 84 85 86

Trevisa, Governance of Kings and Princes, p. 197, lines 13–17. Ibid., p. 212, lines 13–19. The Riverside Chaucer, ed. Benson, pp. 138–153, lines 134–40. M. Hanrahan, ‘ “A Straunge Succesour Sholde Take Youre Heritage”: The Clerk’s Tale and the Crisis of Ricardian Rule’, Chaucer Review 35 (2001), pp. 335–50 (p. 336).

174

Ulrike Graßnick

tions. By providing instructions on various topics, the Fürstenspiegel allow for a flexible employment, depending on the specific situation and context.87 Richard II died as Sir Richard of Bordeaux, probably on 14 February 1400 at Pontefract Castle.88 His tomb with the epitaph and his effigy in Westminster Abbey which he had commissioned in 1395 illustrates his interest in and his concern over his image and reputation as a king and as a person:89 the words and phrases used to characterize the deposed and dead king seem to be copied from a Fürstenspiegel.90 Even this epitaph illustrates the Fürstenspiegel’s potential for functionalization as the same topoi that had been employed to depose the king are used to praise him. At the same time, the epitaph affects publicly and intentionally the posthumous assessment of Richard II as a king – then and now, as it can still be read. The inscription permanently presents Richard II as an ideal and wise king and permanently condemns Henry IV as a usurper who illegally and without justification stole the crown: Prudens et Mundus/ Ricardus jure Secundus, per fatum victus/ jacet hic sub marmore pictus. Verax sermone/ fuit, et plenus ratione: Corpore procerus/ animo prudens ut Omerus. Ecclesie favit/ elatos suppeditavit, Quemvis prostravit/ regalia qui violavit. Obruit hereticos/ et eorum stravit amicos. O Clemens Christe/ cui devotus fuit iste; Votis Baptiste/ salves quem pretulit iste.91

87 See C. J. Nederman, Political Thought, pp. 15–23 (p. 17): ‘Introduction to On the Nobility, Wisdom,

and Prudence of Kings by Walter of Milemete’.

88 Given-Wilson, Revolution, pp. 229, 234, 241–4. 89 See P. Lindley, ‘Absolutism and Regal Image in Ricardian Sculpture’, in The Regal Image of Richard

II and the Wilton Diptych, ed. D. Gordon, L. Monnas and C. Elam (London, 1997), pp. 60–83, especially pp. 62–5. Richard II was first buried in King’s Langley and reburied in Westminster Abbey in 1413, that is after Henry IV’s death. See P. Strohm, ‘The Trouble with Richard: The Reburial of Richard II and Lancastrian Symbolic Strategy’, Speculum 71 (1996), pp. 87–111. 90 S. B. Stallcup, ‘Counseling the King: Scenes of Monarchic Instruction in the Age of Richard II’ (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Princeton University, 2000), p. 238. 91 An Inventory of the Historical Monuments in London, Vol. I: Westminster Abbey, Royal Commission on the Historical Monuments of England (London, 1924), p. 31.

Politics, Society and the Coal Indust ry

REGIONAL POLITICS, LANDED SOCIETY AND THE COAL INDUSTRY IN NORTH-EAST ENGLAND, 1350–1430* Mark Arvanigian Over the years, historians of the late-medieval English gentry have mapped out several working models to explain the character and behavior of landed society in various localities around the country. While various, two basic models have nonetheless emerged which have served to define the parameters of the debate. On the one hand, some have argued that gentry life was usually dominated by the presence and operation of great aristocratic affinities, which often became stages for the drama of competition between gentry families, and which thereby preoccupied gentry families; they were often left scrambling for fortune and preferment within one or another of the great retinues of the country’s increasingly influential baronial families.1 This view has been challenged by another model for the operation of local landed communities, one which posits a more cohesive, even co-operative, situation in which members of a landed community occasionally put aside mutual antagonisms, instead speaking with a collective voice on matters of local importance.2 Although they have generally provided the framework for the study of regional landed society, historians in recent years have begun to cast their net beyond these two basic constructions. For example, space has now been made for more significant regional variation, based upon a series of local variables, including but not limited to such factors as a region’s geography, its land tenure arrangements, its relative wealth, the presence of one or more great families, royal influence, and the relative ease of financial and/or political advancement. It is upon this final point that this essay will turn, for one such financial variable – the coal industry – was a clear factor in determining the political and financial climate of Northeast England by the latter part of the fourteenth century; it will serve here as a convenient prism as we seek to place the region’s gentry within its political economy. Because of the often scant nature of evidence available for certain periods, strong conclusions may have to remain somewhat elusive, but the gathering of this evidence will surely prove useful in suggesting certain avenues of future investigation. The Northeast was a critically important source of English coal in the later Middle Ages, and the palatinate of Durham was responsible for much of that production. Here, great ecclesiastical and secular landowners came – to varying *

The author wishes to thank professors Richard Britnell and A. J. Pollard for their generous assistance and helpful comments on an earlier version of this essay.

1

See for example M. C. Carpenter, Locality and Polity: A Study of Warwickshire Landed Society, 1401–1499 (Cambridge, 1992); and ‘Gentry and Community in Medieval England’, JBS 33 (1994), pp. 340–80. M. J. Bennett, Community, Class and Careerism: Cheshire and Lancashire Society in the Age of Gawain and the Green Knight (Cambridge, 1983); and especially ‘A County Community: Social Cohesion among the Cheshire Gentry, 1400–25’, Northern History 8 (1973), pp. 24–44.

2

176

Mark Arvanigian

degrees – to embrace the potential of this rich resource, thus creating the conditions for its commercial development. With a few notable exceptions, historians have largely ignored this nascent industry, and thus its myriad effects on local landed society remain unknown. In her study of the region’s coal trade to 1421, Constance Fraser examined the efforts principally of Durham Priory in the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries.3 John Hatcher’s survey of the British coal industry devotes only very limited attention to this subject, and is anyway concerned principally with later periods.4 J. B. Blake’s article on the subject also relies greatly on evidence from the surviving records of Durham Priory.5 Less often consulted, however, is the extant material (and in particular the accounts) of the bishopric of Durham; this is unfortunate, in that they shed much light on the region’s emerging coal industry. Thus, a second objective of this essay will be to provide a fuller picture of the industry by using a wider variety of resources, mindful always that because coal was exploited by the landed community to further their own ambitions and projects, it was a political, as well as an economic, resource. In a tenurial sense, Durham was dominated by great landlords, particularly ecclesiastics. His palatine franchise provided the Lord Bishop with one of England’s great cohesive estates, simultaneously making him one of its wealthiest landowners. Unusually, as count palatine, the bishop was also the region’s chief source of law, and his administration provided important opportunities for gentry service and advancement.6 Unusual in England, the bishop’s prerogative was also something of a boon to his greatest tenants, who exercised some independence in the management of the palatinate, while staffing the bishop’s temporal council and administration – itself a self-conscious replica of its royal cousin at Westminster.7 The other great ecclesiastical landowner in the palatinate was, of course, Durham Priory. The community of St Cuthbert held a privileged place in the North and, like the bishop and the region’s other great ecclesiastical corporations, it exercised great spiritual and temporal influence.8 The third important landowner in the palatinate was a secular one, Lord Neville of Raby, whose extensive northern lands included a number of free holdings within the palatinate. By the fourteenth century, the Nevilles were active in the local land market and the farmers of several additional palatine estates. Politically, of course, the Nevilles were a power unto themselves, a 3 4 5 6

7 8

C. M. Fraser, ‘The North-East Coal Trade until 1421’, Transactions of the Archaeological Society of Durham and Northumberland 11 (1962). J. Hatcher, The History of the British Coal Industry, I: Before 1700, Towards the Age of Coal (Oxford, 1993), principally pp. 1–19. J. B. Blake, ‘The Medieval Coal Trade of North East England: Some Fourteenth Century Evidence’, Northern History 2 (1967), pp. 1–26. The best study of the palatinate’s constitutional position remains G. T. Lapsley, The County Palatine of Durham: A Study in Constitutional History (Cambridge, 1924). For gentry service, see, for example Andy King, ‘ “They Have the Hertes of the People by North”: Northumberland, the Percies and Henry IV, 1399–1408’, in G. Dodd and D. Biggs, eds, Henry IV: The Establishment of the Regime, 1399–1406 (Woodbridge, 2003), pp. 139–60; and M. Arvanigian, ‘The Durham Gentry and the Scottish March, 1370–1400: County Service in Late Medieval England’, Northern History 42 (2005), pp. 259–75. For gentry service see, for example, King, ‘ “They Have the Hertes of the People by North” ’, pp. 139–60; and Arvanigian, ‘Durham Gentry’, pp. 259–75. Noteworthy studies of Durham Priory include R. B. Dobson, Durham Priory, 1400–1450 (Cambridge, 1973); Margaret Bonney, Lordship and the Urban Community: Durham and its Overlords, 1250–1540 (Cambridge, 1990); and R. A. Lomas, ‘Durham Priory as Landowner and Landlord, 1300–1500’ (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Durham University, 1975).

Politics, Society and the Coal Industry

177

fact which certainly meant real dominion over their principal Durham lordships of Brancepeth and Raby; for these lands, they rendered relatively tiny customary sums (and the customary homage) to the bishop and prior, respectively.9 In all cases, these landowners had in common a consistent interest in exploiting the coal-mining potential of their estates. Because of the fortunate survival of a detailed daily account of one of the priory’s mining operations, this essay will speak to the rhythms of production.10 As a rule, the prior’s free tenants rarely engaged in the leasing of his mines, which anyway tended to be less productive than others in the palatinate; they rarely yielded much beyond an amount sufficient for meeting the monastic community’s own consumptive needs.11 Conversely, the bishop developed the commercial potential of his mines more thoroughly, and his policy of leasing to the palatinate’s free tenants was a crucial element in shaping the industry in this early phase of development. Yet this arrangement was also possessed of a political dimension, as the lessees numbered among them several important local figures, who joined the region’s upper elite in the ‘business’ of mining. The Percys, Nevilles, and Eures were all important political actors in the Northeast by the last half of the fourteenth century, and all exploited to one degree or another the coal-producing potential of their Durham lands. Though widely mined across the palatinate and the Northeast, certain centers of production nonetheless emerged after 1300, often in and around areas of alreadyconsiderable economic activity. For example, by the 1340s at least, numerous coal pits were strung out along the south bank of the River Tyne, consistent with the emergence of that river as an avenue for trade.12 At about the same time, ecclesiastical and administrative landmarks, such as the prior’s country house at Bearpark, north and west of the city of Durham, began to accommodate mining. Two mines were sited to the west of the bishop’s palace at Bishop Auckland, while certain others were located nearby, in the so-called barony of Evenwood, a special territorial dependency within the palatinate. By far the largest and most important were the bishop’s mines on south Tyneside, near his borough of Gateshead and the township of Whickham – foreshadowing their future importance as regional mining centers; these would much later form the heart of the Great Northern Coal Field. The Tyneside mines in particular were fast commercializing by the mid-1350s, and were regularly farmed out to free tenants – a practice that seems to have been very much preferred to direct exploitation.13 In 1356, Bishop Hatfield granted a twelve-year lease of five mines at Whickham to the prominent Northumbrian knight Sir Thomas Grey of Heaton (author of the Scalacronica) and John Pulhore, the rector of Whickham, for the robust annual sum of £333 6s 8d, or 500 marks.14 The 9

10 11 12 13 14

C. Young, The Making of the Neville Family, 1166–1400 (Woodbridge, 1990); M. Arvanigian, ‘A Lancastrian Polity? John of Gaunt, John Neville and the War with France, 1368–88’, Fourteenth Century England 3 (2004), pp. 121–42. This document is known as Durham University Library, Archives and Special Collections, Dean and Chapter Durham, Bursar’s Book ‘F’ (hereafter DCD, Bursar’s Book ‘F’) For the output of the prior’s mines in the fourteenth century, see R. A. Lomas, North-East England in the Middle Ages (Edinburgh, 1992), pp. 198–204. See for example G. V. Scammell, ‘English Merchant Shipping at the End of the Middle Ages: Some East Coast Evidence’, Economic History Review 13 (1961), pp. 327–41. These rights and others pertaining to the patrimony of St Cuthbert were established in 1303 by Bishop Antony Bek. For a full discussion of these, see C. Fraser, A History of Anthony Bek (Oxford, 1957). Durham University Library, Archives and Special Collections, Church Commission, Bishopric (hereafter CC) 244071. Grey’s career has been the subject of some recent discussion; see for example

178

Mark Arvanigian

conditions of the lease were explicit: total output from the five mines should not exceed one keel15 – or 20 chalders – per day.16 The going price of coal in the mid-fourteenth century was around 1s 5d or 1s 6d per chalder, so at the maximum output allowed by the lease, a day’s mining should have yielded 28–30 shillings at the pit head. The mines were probably worked an average of five days per week (though slightly less often during the weeks leading up to Christmas and Easter), and the cost of labor and transportation was normally borne by the customers. Work in the mines was also slowed by the approach of other important feasts, such as Michaelmas, which further hindered any potential profitability.17 Nature could likewise impede production: evidence from the priory’s mine at West Rainton shows that mining on the prior’s estates was regularly pared back to just three days a week, most often the result of inclement weather, with the monastery bearing the expense of maintaining water pumps to drain the shafts and aqueducts to carry the water away.18 In light of these factors, we might tentatively fix the face value of the Whickham operation at some £350 to £400 a year – leaving a modest profit for the farmers, Grey and Pulhore. However, their profits from the mines almost certainly exceeded these estimates. Labor at all but the largest coal mining operations was generally confined to a single hodman working at the pit face, and one or two other laborers to transport the coal. These labor costs were regularly recouped by the overstuffing of keels by the mines’ operators, and from another routine contractual contravention: the over-mining of the shaft.19 While it is difficult to estimate any potential lost income due to natural disasters like flooding (a persistent problem), tenant miners were explicitly allowed to compensate for such losses through extra production days, and by the contraventions noted above, which it seems were understood to be legitimate remedies for losses incurred due to flooding and poor weather. The great surplus capacity of the bishop’s mines on south Tyneside was certainly employed for this purpose; where mining was stalled in one pit, production simply shifted to another.20 Indeed, it was just this sort of practical flexibility that likely made leasing attractive to both parties in the first place. Bishop Hatfield’s farm of the Whickham mines provided a sizeable annual income over a long period, which approximated (but did not quite

15

16

17

18 19 20

M. Arvanigian, ‘The “Lancastrianization” of the North in the Reign of Henry IV, 1399–1413’, in Dodd and Biggs, eds, Henry IV, pp. 9–38 (pp. 33–36); and King, ‘ “They Have the Hertes of the People by North” ’, pp. 143–4 and 148–9. A keel was a boat used specifically for the transport of coal down river, from the mines to the trading port – in this case, Newcastle-upon-Tyne – which was, by statute, allowed to hold no more than 20 chalders of coal. This imposed limitation was habitually broken – see Blake, ‘Medieval Coal Trade’, p. 4n – so it seems prudent to adjust estimates slightly upward when attempting to gauge actual output. Fraser asserts that the measurement of 154 chalders was the rough equivalent to 115 tons in 1298, though this value was clearly declining throughout this period: by the early fifteenth century, a chalder was equal to a ton. Fraser, ‘North-East Coal Trade’, p. 211. See also The Customs Accounts of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 1454–1500, ed. J. F. Wade, Surtees Society 202 (1995), Appendix. In the light of production figures gleaned from the account of weekly renderings of the priory, see the daily production totals in Bursar’s Book ‘F’, where it is noted that production slowed in the week prior to certain other feasts, as well; this phenomenon was also likely to have been present among lay tenants as miners. See for example DCD, Bursar’s Book ‘F’, fols 21r–22r, 33r–34r, and 25r–27r. DCD, Bursar’s Book ‘F’, fol. 20r. Blake, ‘Medieval Coal Trade’, p. 4n. This pattern is indicated in the surviving Durham Bishopric accounts, and are cited individually below.

Politics, Society and the Coal Industry

179

achieve) the potential profits available from holding them in hand; his tenants, on the other hand, gained a realistic opportunity to turn a profit, one that might be further extended by ingenuity and hard work. While the 1356 Whickham lease to Thomas Grey and John Pulhore is the earliest surviving example, the size of the operation, the thoughtful relationship between the terms of the lease, and the potential profitability of the site make it likely that this was already an established practice. This pattern of leasing was repeated throughout the 1360s, and Bishop Hatfield even used leasing to improve his own sites, and perhaps to pioneer new ones. In 1364, he granted a 24-year lease (for the annual sum of just £5) of the mines at Gateshead, south Tyneside, to John Plummer, a burgess of Newcastle, and Walter Hesilden, a burgess of Gateshead. As part of the indenture, the bishop explicitly conceded way-leave – the right of passage over his lands – to facilitate the transport of coal to local markets or the River Tyne, thus increasing the viability of their lease.21 The bishop also gave his new tenants, under the watchful supervision of his forester no doubt, access to timber from his park in Gateshead, explicitly for the purpose of timbering and framing new shafts.22 In turn, the new tenants agreed to dig a single shaft at a time, and vowed to undertake no other mining in Gateshead or the immediate area during the term of their lease. The whole operation was to be conducted ‘as at Whickham’, an explicit reference to another large ongoing Tyneside operation. This shows clearly that the ‘cynk mines’ at nearby Whickham were already being farmed as separate entities (their separation in the accounts had in fact taken place by the late 1350s), and that the original Whickham indentures (though they do not survive) almost certainly served as a sort of model for this prevailing pattern of reciprocal restrictiveness, so well delineated in the Gateshead leases. These leases are in fact a study in concession and restraint. The small annual rent, access to timber, and the long-term nature of the lease seem to indicate a pressing need for repairs, and a willingness on the part of these entrepreneurial burgesses to undertake them in exchange for favourable terms. On the one hand, the bishop restricted his new tenants’ ability to exploit a diminishing resource; on the other, the lessee gained a commitment from his lord to limit the region’s mining. That said, the leases were also notably to the landlord’s advantage: restrictions on mining output preserved future supplies, while the bishop’s commitment to restrict production in the area ensured his tenants ability to meet their obligations. Moreover, in supporting a high price through the restriction of supply, the bishop could expect to maintain higher rents as a result. Given their potential for producing income, and in the context of declining landed revenues in the far north of the country during this period, an even more vigorous approach to leasing on the part of the bishop might have been expected.23 Yet exclusionary leases like those on south Tyneside explicitly forbade competition 21 J. Masschaele, ‘Transport Costs in Medieval England’, Economic History Review 46 (1993), pp.

266–79.

22 Fraser, ‘North-East Coal Trade’, p. 216. 23 Declining landed revenues in the years following the Black Death are a well-studied phenomenon,

thoroughly documented by numerous scholars. For its manifestation in the North-east specifically, see R. H. Britnell, ‘Feudal Reaction after the Black Death in the Palatinate of Durham’, Past and Present 128 (1990), pp. 28–47; A. J. Pollard, ‘North-Eastern Economy’, pp. 88–105; and M. Arvanigian, ‘Free Tenancy and the Crisis of the Late 1430’s on the Bishop of Durham’s Estates’, Archaeologia Aeliana 5th ser. 24 (1996), pp. 99–108 (pp. 99–101).

180

Mark Arvanigian

in the immediate area, precluding even the bishop operating his own mines. For this reason, by the mid-1360s much of the mining on south Tyneside had effectively closed down – despite relatively buoyant demand. In 1364, the crown ordered Henry Strother, sheriff of Northumberland, to buy 676 chalders of coal from Lord Neville’s mines at Winlaton, near Whickham (which lay within the Neville lordship of Brancepeth), for a price not to exceed 1s 5d per chalder, to be used as fuel in the burning of lime in the king’s expansion of Windsor Castle.24 The cost of freightage was calculated to be 3s 6d per chalder by the crown – more than double the price of the coal itself – meaning that the final delivered price in London, including some lost overboard on the journey south,25 was a hefty 5s 11d per chalder, or about £165. The Neville manor of Winlaton contained at least two large coal mines, Morley and Fulley pits, and though it did not fall within the boundary of either of their Durham lordships, they were nonetheless its customary farmers, along with the township of Winlaton, for which they paid the healthy sum of £20 per year to the bishop.26 Winlaton’s mines were the centrepiece of the Nevilles’ coal mining operation and, given the family’s prominence, it is hardly surprising that their mines were patronized by the crown.27 Ralph Neville had accompanied Edward III on several campaigns, had fought and gained great fame at the battle of Neville’s Cross in 1346, and had also served as the steward of the royal household. His sons, Sir John and Sir William, had also served in the French war, and John had probably also been at the English victory at Neville’s Cross. Following in his father’s footsteps, he also served as Edward’s household steward in the 1370s, and became a formidable political presence in England, magnified still further by his service to the duke of Lancaster, an attachment that would prove crucial and enduring. The family’s political connections were thus formidable, and well in the ascendancy by the 1360s.28 As Edward’s building program at Windsor alone was to cost the crown some £40,000 between 1357 and 1365 (generating much demand for coal in the process), and as the lords Neville were prominent servants of Edward throughout this period, they were often favored with royal custom.29 The fact that the Neville mines were fortuitously located to provide best possible commercial viability also helped in this area, and it was this combination of location and scale of production that guaranteed the commercial viability of the south Tyneside mines. Yet this commercial and political viability would come under direct threat with a dispute over shipping brought against the bishop and his tenants by the burgesses of Newcastle. While the bishop of Durham certainly controlled the mining of coal on his estates, its value to potential miners was greatly diminished without the ability to transport and sell it as they saw fit. The breach between the bishop and the burgesses was already open by the early fourteenth century, and if anything had widened over the 1350s and 60s. The lease agreed in 1364 between Bishop Hatfield, 24 TNA [PRO], E 101/579/18. All manuscript references are to The National Archives unless otherwise

specified.

25 Fraser, ‘North-East Coal Trade’, p. 219. 26 Bishop Hatfield’s Survey, p. 93. 27 Chris Given-Wilson, The Royal Household and the King’s Affinity: Service, Politics and Finance in

England, 1360–1413 (New Haven, 1986), p. 148; A. Tuck, Crown and Nobility (London, 1985), p. 164.

28 Young, Neville Family, p. 125; Arvanigian, ‘A Lancastrian Polity’, pp. 121–42. 29 R. Allen Brown, H. M. Colvin and A. J. Taylor, The History of the King’s Works, 2 vols (London,

1963), II, pp. 872–80. For the building programs at Windsor, Eltham and Sheen in particular during the latter part of Edward III’s reign, see Given-Wilson, Royal Household, pp. 30–3.

Politics, Society and the Coal Industry

181

on the one hand, and Hesilden and Plummer on the other, was confirmed by royal letters patent in 1367, when the bishop’s tenants asked the crown to intervene on their behalf against the Newcastle burgesses, whom they accused of harassing their attempts to ship coal from the river’s south bank. The king confirmed that the lessees – along with Roger Fulthorp and John Birtley, both prominent Durham free tenants – had leave to extract such coal as they could and ship it anywhere in Britain or to Calais.30 Nonetheless, the dispute continued unresolved until 1383, when the bishop found it necessary to bring a formal suit against the town, complaining again that his tenants’ shipping was being impeded. The burgesses again argued that they maintained exclusive shipping rights on the river, from Tynemouth upstream virtually to its headwaters. The bishop conversely claimed that his right to ship on the Tyne and earn money from the coal trade derived its origins from the traditional prerogative of his predecessors, most notably those secured 150-plus years earlier by Bishop Anthony Bek. In both the bishop of Durham’s suit and in the subsequent countersuit by the town, the king sided with the bishop. Yet the harassment of the bishop’s tenants continued until, in a pique of judicial merriment, the king ruled that the bishop controlled the southern third of the river, the town the northern third, with the two parties held the middle third in jointure.31 Typically in cases involving high-profile litigants, this case entertained a substantial political dimension; for that reason, the suit always looked lost for the burgesses. Bishop Fordham of Durham had been an important member of the Black Prince’s household and administration, and was rewarded with episcopal offices following Prince Edward’s death, serving also as Richard II’s keeper of the Privy Seal for four years from 1377, then as his treasurer from 1386.32 Though threatened with impeachment by successive parliaments, he was nonetheless a trusted minister of the crown who had served his king at the highest levels of government, both during and after the royal minority.33 Any attempt at understanding the decision in this case must account for the king’s wish to stress his independence, and promote the interests of his supporters, simultaneously distancing himself from his royal uncles. In this, he called often upon his father’s former retainers and householders, such as Fordham.34 Yet for Fordham, the cost of royal support was not trivial: in 1383 he felt compelled to make a gift to the king of 300 keels of coal – about 6,000 chalders – worth at least £425 and probably more.35 This, it seems, was to be the price for retaining shipping rights on the Tyne, as well as perhaps reinforcing his position in Richard’s government. Fordham must certainly have been concerned about the latter: just two years before, in the wake of the Peasants’ Revolt, he had been forced to resign the Privy Seal. Perhaps this formed part of a program to curry royal favour, and thus maintain his position at court at a time when that position was under threat. Ecclesiastics in Richard’s service were often called upon to make gifts and loans to 30 Fraser, ‘North-East Coal Trade’, p. 216. 31 CCR, 1381–1385, pp. 349–50; CChR, 1341–1417, p. 290. 32 Nigel Saul, Richard II (New Haven, 1997), pp. 18, 28; The Westminster Chronicle, 1381–1394, ed.

L. C. Hector and B. F. Harvey (Oxford, 1982), p. 156; Tuck, Richard II and the English Nobility, p. 49.

33 David Green, The Black Prince (Stroud, 2000). 34 This point has been made by a number of scholars recently. See for example M. Bennett, Richard II

and the Revolution of 1399 (Stroud, 1999), pp. 23–7.

35 CFR, 1383–1391, pp. 4, 30; CCR, 1381–1385, p. 355. See also Blake, ‘Medieval Coal Trade’, pp.

23–4; and G. T. Lapsley, The County Palatine of Durham (Cambridge MA, 1924), pp. 284–5.

182

Mark Arvanigian

the crown, fully aware that their refusal would be impolitic and that compliance might yield great benefit.36 In that context, the importance of Tyne shipping to the income of the bishops of Durham – be it in the operation of his fisheries, or in the shipping of wool, grain, fish or, increasingly, coal – was very great indeed, particularly in light of the fact that his landed income was by then in some decline.37 Fordham surely wished to retain the good graces of the young king, and may well have wanted to secure his capacity to make such gifts in the future: wealthy bishops of Durham would long be prized for their ability to provide needed funds to various cash-strapped monarchs – culminating in the fifteenth century with the overtly Lancastrian bishops Langley and Neville. For Fordham, of course, his victory in this suit ultimately would prove insufficient in safeguarding his political career. Though he had preserved his palatine prerogative to ship freely on the Tyne, there was no stopping his own political demise. In 1386, he once again entered royal service as the king’s treasurer, but held the post for less than a year before being unceremoniously dismissed by the ‘Wonderful Parliament’.38 The Lords Appellant held him largely responsible for the crown’s ailing financial position, and for the reckless shifting of funds away from the exchequer and into the royal household, which had certainly grown larger in size and cost.39 Fordham was duly impeached and removed from office in 1386, and two years later was translated from Durham to the diocese of Ely, itself vacated by the translation of Thomas Arundel to the archbishopric of York.40 It is certainly difficult to imagine that Ely was not a demotion of sorts from Durham, as Professor Tuck has argued, though in a comparative sense it was certainly an important bishopric in its own right.41 With its greater proximity to London, its capital associations and its palatial London residence, Ely may well have suited Fordham’s interests better than the more remote palatine outpost of the bishop of Durham, which was encumbered by crucial regional responsibilities and military and diplomatic duties in the management of the Scottish border. Whatever the case, Fordham’s connections with the court had proven instrumental in preserving an important shipping prerogative for the bishops of Durham, absolutely central to the profitability of any coal-mining operation there. Yet transport was clearly a more complex problem than simply establishing right-of-way. While Durham men certainly shipped their own coal on occasion, it was nevertheless the merchants of Newcastle who most often provided that service from their home port, sometimes purchasing coal at the coal face and acting thereafter as middlemen, while at other times acting as lessees of the mines themselves, thus producing their own cargo. While smaller amounts were regularly shipped from such disparate ports as Boston, Hull, Scarborough, King’s Lynn and Southampton, most of these in fact originated at Newcastle, before being shipped secondarily 36 Richard II’s financial arrangements are best laid out in A. Steele, Receipt of the Exchequer,

37 38 39 40

41

1377–1485 (Cambridge, 1954); and in his invaluable pair of articles: ‘English Government Finance, 1377–1413’, EHR 51 (1936), pp. 29–51; and ‘English Government Finance, 1377–1413, Part II’, EHR 51 (1936), pp. 577–97. R. L. Storey, Thomas Langley and the Bishopric of Durham, 1406–1437 (London, 1961), pp. 69–70. Tuck, Richard II and the English Nobility, p. 64. See for example Given-Wilson, Royal Household, p. 94 and Appendix 3. Although dismissed from his post as treasurer, the chronicler Walsingham at least felt that he had served with some distinction. See The St. Albans Chronicle, Volume 1: 1376–1394, ed. J. Taylor, W. Childs and L. Watkiss (Oxford, 2003), p. 806. Tuck, Richard II and the English Nobility, p. 128.

Politics, Society and the Coal Industry

183

through other English ports. In this way, Newcastle remained the country’s principal source of coal. Of course, the principal reason for this was geography, but it was also linked to larger trends in commercial development. Constance Fraser has argued that Newcastle’s population fell precipitously after the Black Death, with a commensurate decline in its trade in wool. Moreover, the town’s proximity to the Scottish border meant that, in the same period, it had long shouldered steep financial costs which were connected with the war, while nonetheless bearing an excise burden roughly similar to that of southern towns. The suit with the bishop should therefore be seen partly as an act of desperation: townsfolk attempting to consolidate their position in the coal trade as an alternative to a failing wool industry.42 Fraser has also argued convincingly that the prospects for the long-term success of the Newcastle coal trade were ultimately linked with the demand created by large domestic building programs. Professor Goodman has outlined John of Gaunt’s extensive building programs begun in the 1360s – ongoing even during the duke’s frequent and protracted absences from England. Richmond Castle received his early attention in the 1380s, in his capacity as earl of Richmond, and subsequent projects at Hertford Castle and the Savoy, his great London residence, followed closely on. Many of his great Lancastrian fortresses in the Midlands, including those at Lancaster and Leicester, were also sites of new building by the mid-1370s; others north of the Trent, such as Knaresborough and Pontefract in Yorkshire, were also later expanded.43 Intermittent works undertaken elsewhere on southern castles, like those at Bodiam and Rochester in Kent, as well as Herstmonceaux in Sussex, also required large amounts of coal for the burning of lime. The near-constant demand for fuel required in the re-fortification of Dover, Calais, and the Cinque Ports against the constant threat of French attack, and Edward III’s great building project at Windsor, also created demand. In all of these cases, and likely for reasons of proximity and political expediency, fuel needs were met with North-eastern coal. Large shipments were already making the trip to Dover and Calais from Newcastle by 1351: in a single transaction in 1352, the Exchequer commissioned the king’s sergeants-at-arms, William Ellis and Michael Grendon, to purchase 720 chalders of sea-coal from the Newcastle merchant Nicholas Rodom for burning at Calais. For this he was paid the very healthy price of 3s 9d per chalder at the Newcastle dock.44 Rodom probably purchased the coal from local miners at the going rate of 1s 6d, amply demonstrating the potential profitability for such brokerage with available transport.45 The accounts of central government also show that coal was viewed as a rather normal, ongoing expense: notes for payment regularly appear in the accounts alongside such mundane requirements as firewood and wine.46 Projects closer to home also created sizeable demand for North-eastern coal. These included two Northumbrian projects already underway by the early 1380s: the great Percy construction project at Warkworth, and John of Gaunt’s conversion of Dunstanburgh Castle. Both were undertaken during a period in which the duke of Lancaster was promoting his own interests and those of his retainer, John Neville, in the Scottish March – interests that were beginning to conflict with those of the 42 43 44 45 46

Fraser, ‘North-East Coal Trade’, pp. 219–20. Goodman, John of Gaunt, pp. 301–12. E 43/290. E 43/406. E 101/510/2 and E 101/579/18.

184

Mark Arvanigian

Percys.47 Moreover, urban demand, along with the fortifications at Newcastle and Carlisle, certainly hint at the need for greater supplies of coal. In the 1370s and 80s, the Percys leased the manor and coal mines of Fugerhouse from the bishop of Durham, perhaps to satisfy their own coal needs, but also with an eye toward royal purveyance – purveyance for which they, in their roles as wardens of the Scottish Marches, were principally responsible. Comprising about a hundred acres of land, Northumberland held the manor of Fugerhouse of the bishop of Durham for a customary annual sum of 10s, and leased the adjacent coal mine for the tidy sum of £26 13s 4d.48 The Nevilles, too, were engaged in the defence of the border, and also maintained ongoing construction projects at both Brancepeth and Raby castles,49 and as we have seen, they were also significant miners in their own right. Further demand may also have been generated by smaller local projects, as a few important gentry and baronial families began to build new residences and extend existing ones. In 1389, for example, an important Durham family, the Lumleys, gained permission from the bishop to fortify and extend their principal palatinate residence, Lumley Castle, near Chester-le-Street.50 This increase in local demand for coal, its concomitant potential for profit, and the ready availability of mining leases from the bishop may all help explain the increase in local participation in Newcastle shipping in the early 1390s, when the town’s own vessels and merchants began to replace those of foreign shippers in the town’s port.51 Yet domestic coal shipments elicited no customs duties, and unless ordered and licensed specifically by the king, have tended to leave a light footprint in the records. Assessment of local demand, and to a lesser extent domestic demand as a whole, must remain speculative. With that caveat, existing evidence of certain large transactions suggests that domestic demand could be quite buoyant. In 1377, William Acton, a prominent burgess of Newcastle, sold 1,600 chalders of sea coal to three London merchants, an amount equal to nearly one-fourth of that year’s total coal exports. Moreover, consistent with other such purchases, nearly all of the shipping and transport details were to be left to him, though within certain narrow parameters. For example, the Londoners imposed a per-chalder limit of £320, or 4s on freight costs, thus discouraging any profiteering the supplier may have had in mind.52 The following year, John Denom, William Hutton, and Elias Bulkham – all prominent free tenants and leaseholders within the palatinate – were licensed by the crown to buy 3,000 chalders of coal in Northumberland, load it at the port of Newcastle, and ship it to any port in England.53 William Hutton can be closely linked to the Nevilles, and was likely acting on their behalf, in a transaction which 47 Goodman, John of Gaunt, p. 88; Arvanigian, ‘A Lancastrian Polity’, passim. The Westminster chroni-

48 49 50 51 52 53

cler even believed – and Nigel Saul believes he has it on good authority – that Richard II promoted Neville to the earldom of Cumberland at Hoselaw in Teviotdale, in August 1385, during the Scottish campaign. In common with a number of others conferred by the king that day, Neville’s title, if granted, was never confirmed or used. Westminster Chronicle, pp. 126–7 and note; Saul, Richard II, p. 117, n. 25. Bishop Hatfield’s Survey, p. 93. M. J. B. Hislop, ‘The Castle of Ralph, Fourth Baron Neville at Raby’, Archaeologia Aeliana 5th ser. 20 (1992), pp. 91–7. DURH 3/33. See Blake, ‘Medieval Coal Trade’, pp. 11–12; E 122/106/5. Calendar of Plea and Memoranda Rolls of the City of London 1364–1381, ed. A. H. Thomas (Cambridge, 1929), pp. 245–6. Blake, ‘Medieval Coal Trade’, p. 12.

Politics, Society and the Coal Industry

185

he likely could not have financed without significant outside resources. Though he had already been pushed out of the royal household and relieved of his office of steward by this date, John Neville was nonetheless an important member of John of Gaunt’s inner circle, and therefore politically quite influential. This significant transaction may well have been at his behest. Perhaps as a result of expanding demand, the mining and trade of coal in the region was coming increasingly under the control of Durham’s landed and professional elite. In 1383, the bishop’s Evenwood mines were leased to William Blakeston, John Lodge, and Alexander Collier for six years.54 This was as much a political as a financial transaction. Blakeston was a retainer of the bishop, and a member of his temporal council, but his purview extended to the law: Blakeston was a lawyer, and an important justice in the palatine courts. He was probably responsible for obtaining the lease of these profitable mines, and he may also have provided or secured the necessary funding for the operation. John Lodge was a humbler figure who had been involved in other mining leases, and, with Collier, was probably the project’s actual manager: these were the coal miners. In 1385, the bishop’s receiver reported that he had collected a sum of £22 from the three men and John Merley – a free tenant of south Durham – for the farm of these mines.55 Evenwood was to prove exceptional in this regard, as the bishop had temporarily abandoned the policy of leasing his Tyneside mines by the mid-1380s, opting instead to hold them in hand.56 Having won the right to export coal directly from Gateshead in 1383, he probably saw a better prospect of running these sites at a good profit himself. In 1383, Nicholas Coke, custodian of the mines at Gateshead, paid the bishop’s master forester – the official charged with their care – a remission of more than £93, which amounted to the year’s profits.57 No mention is made of the Whickham mines in that account, and the account of 1385 omits entirely all mention of the Tyneside mines. In 1416, there was no income at all from the farm of either the mines at Whickham or Gateshead.58 But even as early as the episcopate of Bishop Fordham, and certainly by that of his predecessor Walter Skirlaw – a diplomat and long-serving bureaucrat – the bishop had adopted a regular policy of direct exploitation. In 1418, the profits remitted by the approvers, or managers, of the Gateshead and Whickham mines went directly on to the bishop’s receiver-general, for whom accounts during these years, sadly, do not survive – a fact which leaves behind a level of uncertainty in these transactions. What does seem clear, however, is that higher demand and lower production costs relative to profits had encouraged the bishops to try their hand at direct coal mining. Indeed, as early as 1409, Bishop Langley had installed a governor over his mines at Whickham; in that year alone he was paid £133 7s 10d for building costs,59 perhaps to fund the sinking of the new mine referred to in later accounts as the ‘big pit’.60 In that year, the bishop’s mines were all being held in hand, and no mention is made of any new or ongoing leases. But Langley, Chancellor of England under the first two Lancastrian kings and a financial moderniser generally, seems always to have been 54 55 56 57 58 59 60

DURH 20/114/8. Bishop Hatfield’s Survey, p. 266. Ibid. DURH 20/114/8. CC 189809. CC 188714. CC 189820.

186

Mark Arvanigian

focused on two objectives with respect to his Episcopal franchise: steady income, and tight fiscal control. It was probably the case that his investments into his mining endeavors, like the ones made in 1409, represented an attempt to attract new tenants. If so, his success is calendared in the palatine records for 1416, which tell of the mines at Railey, Caldhurst, Hertkeld, Hetherlong, and Evenwood in south Durham already having been leased to his palatine steward, Ralph Eure, for the princely annual sum of £112 13s 4d, a bargain agreed to sometime after 1409.61 Eure was an important regional landowner and politician, who had been sheriff of York and an MP on several occasions; he had also a few years before shown his worth to Henry IV in dramatic fashion, when he helped put down Archbishop Scrope’s rebellion.62 Interestingly, in 1408, Langley had occasion to repay Eure a loan of £133 6s 8d – a sum identical to that paid to the governor of the Whickham mines for maintenance and repairs.63 It seems that Langley borrowed the money from his steward for that purpose, and that this became the basis for Eure’s lease of the south Durham mines. Through leasing, then, Langley settled for a stable but significant income from his mines, without the expense and effort involved in direct exploitation, while simultaneously solidifying the interests of other Lancastrians in the region. Eure was already an important landowner in that part of the county: apart from Witton and lands around Bishop Auckland, he held the manors of Bitforth and Matwell – with 80 additional acres – and the villages of Hopland, Bradley, and Escombe, as well as significant portions of the villages of North and South Bedburn and Wolsingham.64 These holdings, combined with his south Durham and North Yorkshire estates, gave him a significant presence around the town of Darlington.65 Sir Ralph had also already been steward of Durham for some years under Langley’s predecessor, Walter Skirlaw, a job he retained until his own death in 1422. Professor Storey is surely right to point out that, whatever Bishop Langley may have thought of Eure personally, he could ill afford to ignore his influence in Durham.66 As Eure was a creditor and steward of the bishop, Langley’s veritable bequest of his Evenwood mining operation seems a clear form of patronage – albeit one that served both parties well. The earliest mining interests of the Neville family were in the township of Winlaton; on the south bank of the Tyne near Whickham, they held Winlaton and its mineral rights as free tenants of the bishop, for the traditional annual sum of £20.67 As with most important Neville holdings in the northern portion of the palatinate, Winlaton and its coal mine were constituent properties of their lordship of Brancepeth; they were also traditional farmers of another adjoining village. The mining of coal was certainly well-established at Winlaton by 1364 at least, when the king instructed the sheriff of Northumberland to purchase from there some 600 tons 61 CC 189809. 62 M. Arvanigian, ‘Landed Society and the Governance of the North in the Later Middle Ages: The Case

of Sir Ralph Eure’, Medieval Prosopography 22 (2001), pp. 65–88 (pp. 79–80).

63 CC 188714. 64 See the coroners’ accounts for Darlington Ward, i.e., CC 190212. Unfortunately, coroners’ accounts

do not survive for the years prior to 1443. See also Bishop Langley’s Survey of the palatinate of 1418 in SC 12/20/9, fols 147–64. 65 DURH 3/13, fols 214–17; Storey, Thomas Langley, p. 103. 66 Storey, Thomas Langley, p. 102. 67 CC 189809, 189782, 189810.

Politics, Society and the Coal Industry

187

of coal, for the burning of lime by the clerk of the royal works at Windsor.68 It is instructive that this single fourteenth-century purchase, which cost the crown £47 17s 8d,69 was very close to the total rent collected for the largest Tyneside mines at the apex of their rental value, giving some indication as to the relative size of this mine, and the potential profitability tied up in leasing by this date.70 Other changes commensurate with that profitability are also evident by the dawn of the fifteenth century. For example, the tenure of new leases was henceforth to be somewhat shorter. In contrast to Sir Ralph Eure’s virtual life tenure as the farmer of the Evenwood mines, Bishop Langley, a financial reformer who generally seems to have been sceptical of lifetime grants and annuities, favoured shorter leases like the one granted for five years in 1434 to the freeholder John Forester and his associates, for the mines at Whickham.71 The agreed sum, £26 13s 4d, was identical to another in 1438 that was agreed to with a new group of tenants led by William Talbot.72 In south Durham, Eure held the Evenwood mines until his death in 1422. It may be significant that no similar tenant appeared to undertake a long-term commitment to farming these mines after his death. Though still being farmed to tenants in 1434, they nonetheless produced no income for the bishop as he agreed to allow his tenant to reinvest that year’s revenue for shaft repairs.73 Four years later, a new farmer, Thomas Duke, also withheld payment on his lease, citing repairs and certain ‘extraordinary’ circumstances which had lately arisen.74 He may well have been referring to the severe outbreak of epidemic disease that hit the region at about that time, and the subsequent economic crisis.75 As this epidemic affected all sorts of economic activity, Duke likely found his ability to mine and sell his product severely hindered. Moreover, these south Durham mines specialized in meeting local and regional demand: there is no surviving evidence linking them with export trade or long-distance domestic shipping. Because both Durham and North Yorkshire were deeply affected by this economic crisis, the miners were probably forced to ask their lord for at least one rent concession.76 Indeed, this pattern held true of other tenants and freeholders, who sought and were generally granted such concessions, particularly if they happened to be important, politically. Yet the crisis of the later 1430s also affected the rather more commercially viable mining operations in north Durham, which produced no income at all; the farm of the mines at Gateshead, where a substantial annual sum had become the norm, yielded nil in 1438/9. These mines were not likely held in hand by choice: the accounts for the years immediately prior, and those immediately following, indicate that the Gateshead mines were again being leased, and producing above-average rates of profit in both cases. The bishop obviously preferred farming out the operation, but may instead have been forced to hold it in hand (without profit) during the economic downturn.77 The mining slump of the late 1430s and 1440s is particularly 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76

Hatcher, History of the British Coal Industry, p. 26. Fraser, ‘North-East Coal Trade’, p. 219. CC 189872, 189811. CC 188686. CC 189811. CC 188686. CC 189811. Arvanigian, ‘Free Tenancy’, passim. P. J. P. Goldberg, ‘Mortality and Economic Change in the Diocese of York, 1390–1514’, Northern History 24 (1988), p. 49. 77 Receiver-general’s accounts, 1434/5 (CC 188686), and 1453/4 (CC 189812).

188

Mark Arvanigian

striking in light of the boom time which had preceded it. As with landed incomes generally, the late 1420s and early 1430s represent a high point in later medieval coal mining in Durham, with revenues reaching levels which would not again be approached until the 1470s. Receipts from the mines on the bishop’s estates reached £252 in 1427/8, an increase of nearly 20% over those of 1424/5.78 In 1434, revenues declined to their 1424 level, but this nonetheless represents a relatively robust figure.79 Other evidence supports this general picture. Durham Cathedral Priory, though never involved in mining on the quite the same scale as the bishop and his tenants, nonetheless maintained an average annual income of around £36 from Rainton between 1409 and 1419. Rainton remained the site of the prior’s most important mining operation well into the fifteenth century.80 Generally held in hand, it produced a tidy profit in most years, which was handed over, after expenses, to the prior’s bursar, his chief financial officer. In 1427, however, profits from Rainton reached an all-time high of £59 13s 7d. Although the monks ultimately found this level of production unsustainable, income from the mine remained relatively high for the balance of the 1420s, before plummeting in the later 1430s.81 These trends in mining revenues mirror larger trends in landed income in the region: total receipts from the estates of the bishop of Durham and Durham Priory also reached their fifteenth-century zenith in the 1420s. Indeed, the bishop’s palatine landed income even showed signs of abating the longer-term decline in landed revenues begun more than a century before, while in 1433 the income of the prior’s bursar actually reached a twenty-year high of £1,555, some £100 higher than in most other years between 1400 and 1450 – and nearly £340 higher than it would be in 1438, the year of greatest economic disruption.82 These years, 1427–35, thus represent a very strong period of economic activity in the North-east. Moreover, the general health of the local economy bore heavily upon the region’s land market, as well as the region’s market for coal. As this general economic health deteriorated after 1437, so too did the potential profitability of coal extraction, for both landlord and tenant. Certainly, the bishop and his tenants were not the only ones mining coal in the region. In his survey of the medieval North-east, Richard Lomas reminds us that the other great Durham landowner, the cathedral priory – landlord over most of the important townships eastward from Gateshead to the North Sea coast – nonetheless operated no mines in that area until 1376, when just a single pit was sunk at a site called ‘Nether Heworth’.83 However, while relatively late to exploit their Tyneside lands, the monks had established a mining operation closer to home: after some years of purchasing coal from others, they began to mine of their own accord in the 1350s at West Rainton, and in the following decade at Ferryhill, which would remain their principal sites for many years. As the cathedral community had an 78 CC 190184, 189810. 79 The actual income was lower than that, but only because the bishop chose to reinvest that year’s reve-

nues from the farm of the south Durham mines for their improvement: CC 18686.

80 DCD, Bursar’s Account Rolls (hereafter BAR), 1409–19. 81 Extracts from the Account Rolls of the Abbey of Durham, ed. C. Fowler, 3 vols, Surtees Society 103

(1901), III, p. 708.

82 Receiver’s and receiver-general’s accounts, DURH, 20/114/8; CC 188686. 83 For this and what follows, see R. A. Lomas, North-east England in the Middle Ages (Edinburgh,

1990), pp. 198–201.

Politics, Society and the Coal Industry

189

annual requirement of about 200 chalders for its own use, and because of the relatively high cost of transporting coal (especially overland), a premium for their mining was probably placed on the mines’ proximity to the community itself, rather than to the River Tyne and its customs house. Perhaps because of this focus on domestic requirements, the monastery made a relatively late start in developing the commercial potential of its mines, some distance behind the Nevilles and the bishop of Durham. The pit at West Rainton, sunk around 1341, remained its principal site right through the later Middle Ages; after leasing it to tenants throughout the 1340s, it was taken back into hand in 1350, perhaps the result of a decrease in short-term demand for coal following the Black Death.84 Whatever the reason, the monks kept it in hand for two decades before again farming it out, this time for the remainder of the century. Thereafter, the pattern of income from this site becomes somewhat uneven: having fetched up to £12 per year at farm in the 1340s,85 and having in the 1350s fulfilled all the priory’s coal needs (usually 100–250 chalders a year) while still providing it with an income of £15–25 from the sale of the remainder, the West Rainton mine was leased for just £5–10 per year between 1370 and 1395.86 The disparity in income grows wider still when it is revealed that the figures for the late fourteenth century include not only the pit at West Rainton, but also now Ferryhill, the site of a new pit sunk by the monks in the 1360s and farmed out for the remainder of the century.87 Clearly, then, because the monastery used much of what it mined in the maintenance of its own community, the commercial value of mining was probably always of secondary importance. However, a number of other factors worked against the commercial exploitation of the priory’s coal-mining operation. Professor Dobson has shown that these mines suffered from a lack of access to commercial shipping points, a not-inconsiderable point in determining their commercial viability.88 Aldingrange, another of the community’s mining sites, lay a few miles north and east of the city of Durham, some distance from the River Wear and still further away from the Tyne. Rainton, also north and east of the monastery, and Ferryhill, to the south-east and further up Weardale, were both significant distances from Newcastle – or indeed Gateshead and Whickham, all potential points of exit for coal shipments out of the North-east, be it overseas, to the South-east, or to Scotland.89 While some coal shipments might indeed exit the palatinate via the River Wear, this was less viable than Newcastle’s large and organised shipping industry. This especially hindered the monastery’s ability to sell its product at anything like a competitive price, given the comparatively high cost of transport and the existence of other fuels competing with coal for use in the local market.90 However, the monastery’s mines did have good access to 84 R. H. Britnell, ‘Feudal Reaction after the Black Death in the Palatinate of Durham’, Past and Present

128 (1990), pp. 28–75.

85 DCD, BAR, 1340–9. 86 Lomas, ‘Durham Cathedral Priory as a Landowner’, p. 135. This figure was to increase greatly in the

87 88 89 90

fifteenth century, when the mines were once again taken back into hand. See DCD, BAR, 1410–40; and DCD, Bursar’s Book ‘F’, fols 20r, 28v–29v, and 30r–32v. It remained at farm in 1396/7, for example, to John Atcock, for an unspecified amount. See Durham Cathedral Priory Rentals, p. 114. Dobson, Durham Priory, p. 278. C. Platt, Medieval Southampton: The Port and Trading Community, A.D. 1000–1600 (London, 1973), p. 159. For a discussion of the cost of coal and its transport in the Middle Ages, see G. V. Scammell, ‘English

190

Mark Arvanigian

the city of Durham and its environs, and their pattern of development demonstrates the community’s local focus. Aldingrange, a coal site developed in the early fifteenth century, was indeed emblematic of this focus: it lay very near the prior’s country seat west of the city of Durham, at Bearpark, and was well situated to provide it with coal.91 Such were the community’s chief considerations. In the last quarter of the fourteenth century, then, the priory, in stark contrast to the bishop, was content to farm out its mining activities, even though much of the product seems either to have been purchased back by the monks or retained for use by the community. Although such an approach was less vulnerable than the bishop’s to the fluctuations of long-distance markets, the monks of Durham nonetheless also suffered from a contraction in demand within the coal market by 1375. By the last quarter of the fourteenth century, the prior was unable to realize a sufficient profit to justify holding the mines in hand – perhaps partly as a result of the prohibitive costs of transport – and at a time when other landlords were exploiting their large commercial mines by holding them in hand, the priory was leasing its mines for tiny sums.92 Nonetheless, the particular combination of advantages offered by the priory’s mines, with their proximity to the city of Durham, proved sufficient for the community to consistently find tenants for its largest mine, West Rainton, which produced £20–30 of income in most years before 1435.93 Problems with commercial viability, however, caused this to decline by the end of the 1450s, when the prior’s bursar saw his income from coal fall precipitously. Having brought in an income of about £40 per year in the early 1440s, by 1444 these had fallen to £32 5s 3½d.94 By 1451, coal mining had disappeared altogether from the bursar’s accounts, while there are no further extant accounts of the priory’s governor of the mines. While Lomas does not take this to be a sign of the endeavour’s ill health or inactivity, it does seem that, by that date, the monks had recognized that the location of their pits, their maintenance, and the cost of transporting their product to a suitable export point made any large-scale commercial exploitation of coal impractical.95 Consequently, priory mines never approached the value of the bishop’s, and it is unreasonable to expect that any potential lessees of the priory’s mines would have been better able to overcome these inherent difficulties than were the monks themselves. This should also be understood against a backdrop of falling landed incomes in the North-east generally: the prior’s bursar, who administered the bulk of his estates, saw his revenues fall to £1,276 9s 6d by the end of the 1430s, down from an average of some £1,500 per year between 1428 and 1438.96 The bishop’s revenues from the land were also negatively impacted in this period, yet he was able to recoup some of this through coal-mine leasing; the prior was not.

91 92 93 94 95 96

Merchant Shipping at the End of the Middle Ages: Some East Coast Evidence’, Economic History Review 2nd ser. 13 (1961), pp. 327–41. On the cost and desirability of using coal, as against other available fuels, see Hatcher, History of the British Coal Industry, pp. 22–30; and A. D. Dyer, ‘Wood and Coal: A Change of Fuels’, History Today 26 (1976). An agreement in 1399 between the prior and two tenants ensured such a provision. See Blake, ‘Medieval Coal Trade’, p. 22. J. Masschaele, ‘Transport Costs in Medieval England’, Economic History Review 2nd ser. 46 (1993), pp. 266–79. Extracts from the Account Rolls, pp. 709–11. Ibid., pp. 712–13. Lomas, North-east England, pp. 200–1. DCD, BAR, 1428–38.

Politics, Society and the Coal Industry

191

What initial conclusions can be drawn from this survey of the available evidence from the English North-east? First, a competent group of entrepreneurial members within the landed community, men like Sir Ralph Eure, John and Ralph Neville, William Blakeston and Roger Fulthorp (a prominent lawyer also involved in coal mining), had taken a leadership role in the development of the coal trade by the later fourteenth century. Men like these proved crucial in pressing the bishops of Durham to lease the mines and develop their commercial potential. Moreover, that potential was clearly understood by the region’s landowners, who fought jealously to protect it as a franchise. Bishop Fordham’s victory in his suit against the Newcastle burgesses over the rights to Tyne shipping, for example, was instrumental in maintaining the potential of south Tyneside mining; the redoubling of investment by Bishop Langley in the first decade of the fifteenth century – along with his more modern looking, general predilection for leasing out his assets – encouraged the more industrious members of the gentry back to the industry after a short (perhaps unsuccessful) experiment with direct landlord management. In that sense, the gentry seem to have been a critical component in this phase of commercializing the industry. Moreover, coal mining provided the bishops of Durham with another valuable medium of political patronage. Roger Fulthorp, the palatinate’s chief justice, leased his mines on favourable terms, which can surely be explained in some measure by his position in palatine administration. Similarly, Ralph Eure lent a large sum of money to the bishop right before gaining his mines in Evenwood, and for his pains gained virtual lifetime suzerainty over the mining there. The political stature of the Nevilles of Raby – perhaps especially after 1399 – helped guarantee the success of their coal-mining endeavours on south Tyneside. In all cases, the potential profits available from the coal trade, and their implications for the operation of gentry society in the region, had a tremendous impact on the region’s political economy, helping to define the gentry as a commercial and political class.