CHAPTER I
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR

After Hastings William advanced upon the City, and finding his entrance barred, burned Southwark.

The historians commonly attribute this act, which they consider as the burning of a large and important suburb, to a threat of what the Norman would do to London herself, unless the City surrendered. This is the general interpretation of an act which I believe to have been simply the usual practice of William’s soldiers, without orders. They fired the fishermen’s huts because they always set fire to everything. Such was the way of war.

Historians, indeed, seem not to understand the position of London at this time, and the spirit of her citizens.

London, in a word, was not afraid of William. We have seen that the City had been able to beat off six successive sieges by Danes and Northmen; and this within the memory of men over forty. Are we to believe that a city with such a history of defiance and victory was going to surrender because Duke William had won a single battle? Why, King Cnut had won a dozen, yet the town would not surrender. Then, as to the burning of Southwark. That suburb was never more than one line of houses on an embankment and two along a causeway. In times of peace there stood upon the causeway certain inns for the reception of traders and their goods; and on the embankment certain cottages for the fishermen of the Thames and some of the river-side people, the stevedores, lightermen, and wharfmen. The inns were wooden shanties, they were mere shelters; the cottages were mere huts of wattle and daub. In time of war the inns were deserted. If there were no traders there could be no need of inns. William’s soldiers fired these deserted inns, and, at the same time, the thatch of the fishermen’s huts; not with any deep political object, but, as I have said, because they were Norman soldiers, on whose coming the villages burst into spontaneous combustion. As for the fishermen, they looked on, with their families, from a safe position in their boats in the middle of the river. When the soldiers had gone they returned and put on a new thatch. As for the City’s feeling the least alarm because these cottages were burned, nothing could be more absurd. The City looked on from the battlements of her river-wall and shouted defiance. Then William turned and rode away. He had no stomach for a long and doubtful siege of London while the new armies of the English were forming.

The Londoners took time to consider their next step. They had within their walls Edgar Atheling, grandson of Edmund Ironside; they had many of the Bishops; they were quite strong enough to refuse submission: but they had also among themselves many “men of Rouen”; they were already familiar with the Normans; their Bishop, William, was of French, if not of Norman, origin. They took time, then, to consider; there was no hurry; they could keep out William as long as they pleased, just as they had kept out Cnut. They began, probably on the advice of the two earls, by electing young Edgar Atheling as their king. Why, however, did William sit down at Berkhampstead? It has been suggested that he could thus cut off the earls from their earldoms. But when they wished to withdraw from London, they did so, and betook themselves to these earldoms without molestation, so that William did not cut them off. The reason for thus withdrawing is not apparent, though one can understand that the Atheling was unable to persuade or to command them to unite against the common enemy, and they retired to their own country, leaving the Londoners to themselves, seemingly without any promise or pledge to raise new armies in their own earldoms.

It is also suggested that, by harrying the country around, William was cutting off the City and depriving it of supplies. He certainly did harry the country, as is proved by the depreciation in the value of land wherever his footsteps had been (see English Historical Review, vol. xiii. No. 49). But, first of all, the harrying of the country was necessitated by the needs of the army which had to be fed; and secondly, London never was cut off: the river remained open, and Essex, once the garden of England, was not touched and still remained open.

In other words, neither the burning of Southwark, nor the harrying of the country, nor any threats of the Conqueror moved the proud City at all. She who had beaten off Cnut—still living in their memory as the great king—even when he had command of the river and had invaded the City by land, who had broken down six sieges of the Danes, was certainly not going to surrender at a word because the invader had won a single victory.

William, for his part, did well to consider before attacking London. Thirty years before, as he knew perfectly well, another king had ridden to London like himself, only to find the gates shut. Cnut laid siege to London: he was beaten off: he had to divide the kingdom with Edmund Ironside. Not till London admitted him was he truly King of England. William certainly knew this episode in history very well, and understood what it meant. In the north there were Saxon lords who needed nothing more than the support and encouragement of London to raise an army equal to that of Harold’s, and to march south upon him. William, who had many friends in London, therefore waited.

In London there was much running to and fro; much excitement, with angry debates, in those days. The funeral procession, simple and plain, carrying the body of Harold from the field of battle to the Abbey of Waltham, had passed through the City. It must have passed through the City, because there was no other way. The King was dead; who was to succeed him? And some said Edgar Atheling; and some said nay, but William himself—strong as Cnut; just as Cnut; loyal to his people as Cnut.

First they chose the Atheling, but when the great bell of St. Paul’s rang for the Folkmote, to Paul’s Cross all flocked—the craftsmen in their leathern doublets, the merchants in their cloth. All assembled together; all the citizens and freemen of the City, according to a right extending beyond the memory of man, and a custom as old as the City itself, claiming for every man the right of a voice in the management of the City.

Standing above the rest was the Bishop; silent at first amid the uproar, silent and watchful, beside him the Atheling himself, a stripling unable to wield the battle-axe of Harold; beside him, also, the Portreeve, the chief civil officer of the City; behind the Bishop stood his clergy and the canons of St. Paul’s. Outside the throng stood the “men of Rouen” and the “men of Cologne,” who had no voice or vote, but looked on in the deepest anxiety to learn the will of the people.

Then arose an aged craftsman, and after him another, and yet a third, and the burden of their words was the same: “I remember how King Cnut besieged us, and behind our walls we laughed at him.”

And all the people cried, “Yea! yea!”

“And he drew his ships by the trench that he cut in the mud round the bridge, and we fought the ships and beat him off.”

And all the people cried, “Yea! yea!”

“And we would have none but our own king, Edmund Ironside.”

And all the people cried, “Yea! yea!”

Meantime the Bishop listened and bowed his head as if in assent. And when all had spoken, he said, “Fair citizens, it is true that King Cnut besieged you and that you beat him off, like valiant citizens. Remember, however, that in the end you made Cnut your king. Was he a just king—strong in battle and in peace merciful—was he, I say, a good king?”

And all the people lifted up their voices, “Yea, yea.” For the memory of King Cnut was more precious with them than that of any other king since the great King Alfred.

Much more the Bishop said. In the end, by order, as he said, of the Folkmote—whom he had persuaded to their good, he set off with the Portreeve and Edgar Atheling. He was ready to offer the submission of the City on conditions. What were those conditions? They were almost certainly similar to those which the city of Exeter afterwards proposed: viz. that William should promise to be a law-abiding king. He made that promise. He entered the City, whose gates were thrown open to him.

London made William king. What did William do for London in return? He gave her, probably soon after his coronation, his famous Charter. It could not have been before his coronation, because he describes himself as king, and from the nature of the contents it must have been given very shortly after his reign began. This document is written on a slip of parchment no more than six inches in length and one in breadth. It contains four lines and a quarter.

There are slight variations in the translation. The following is that of Bishop Stubbs:—

“William, King, greets William, Bishop, and Gosfrith, Portreeve, and all the burghers within London, French and English, friendly; and I do you to wit that I will that ye be all law worthy that were in King Edward’s day. And I will that every child be his father’s heir after his father’s day. And I will not endure that any man offer any wrong to you. God keep you.”

It is the first charter of the City.

This charter conveys in the fewest possible words the largest possible rights and privileges. It is so clear and distinct that it was certainly drawn up by the citizens themselves, who knew then—they have always known ever since—what they wanted. We can read between the lines. The citizens are saying: “Promise to grant us three points, these three points, and we will be your loyal subjects. Refuse them, and we will close our gates.” Had the points been put into words by the keenest of modern lawyers, by the most far-seeing lawyer of any time, they could not have been clearer or plainer. They leave no room at all for evasion or misconception, and they have the strength and capability of a young oak sapling.

The points were these: Every man was to have the rights of a freeman, as those rights were then understood, and according to the Saxon customs.

Secondly, every man was to inherit his father’s estate.

Thirdly, the King would suffer no man to do them wrong.

Consider what has grown out of these three clauses. From the first we have derived the right, among other things, for which every man of our race would fight to the death—the right of trial by our fellow-citizens, i.e. by jury. I do not say that the citizens understood what we call Trial by Jury, but I do say that without this clause, trial by jury could not have grown up. London did not invent the popular method of getting justice; but she did preserve the rights of the freeman, as understood by Angle, Saxon, and Jute alike, and by that act preserved for all her children developments yet to come; among others, this method of trial, which has always impressed our people with the belief that it is the best way of getting justice that has yet been invented.

As for the second, the right of inheritance. This right, which includes the right of bequest, carries with it the chief spring of enterprise, industry, invention, and courage. Who would work if the fruits of his work were to be taken from his children at his death by a feudal lord? The freeman works with all his heart for himself and his family; the slave works as little as he can for his master. The bestowal of this right was actually equivalent to a grant—a grant by charter—to the City—of the spirit of enterprise and courage. Who would venture into hostile seas, and run the gauntlet of pirates, and risk storm and shipwreck, if his gains were to be swept into the treasury of a feudal lord?

As for the third point, the promise of personal protection, London was left with no one to stand between the City and the King. There never has been any one between the King and the City. In other cities there were actually three over-lords—king, bishop, earl,—and the rights of each one had to be separately considered. The citizens of London have always claimed, and have always enjoyed, the privilege of direct communication with the sovereign. No one, neither earl nor bishop, has stood between them and their King, or claimed any rights over the City.

Now these liberties, and others that have sprung from them, we have enjoyed so long that they have become part of ourselves. They are like the air we breathe. When an Australian or an American builds a new town, he brings with him, without thinking of it, the rights of the freeman, the right of inheritance, the right of owning no master but the State. We cannot understand a condition of society in which these rights could be withheld. Picture to yourself, if you can, a country in which the king imposed his own judges upon the people; a king who could order them as he pleased; could sentence, fine, banish, imprison or hang without any power of appeal; who could make in his own interest his own laws without consulting any one; who could seize estates at their owner’s death and could give the heirs what he pleased, as much or as little; who could hand these heirs over to be the prey of a feudal lord, who only suffered them to live in order that he might rob them. That was the position of a city under a feudal lord, but it was never the position of London.

It must be added that William’s Charter conferred no new liberties or privileges upon the City. London asked for none: the City was content with what it had. William surrendered none of the power or authority of the sovereign. London asked for no such surrender. We shall see, in the charters which followed, how jealously the royal authority was guarded.

From a modern point of view it would seem an unpatriotic thing for the City to throw over the Saxon heir; but we must remember that Cnut, the best and strongest king they had had since Alfred, was a Dane, that the City was full of Normans, and that the memory of the Saxon Ethelred was still rankling among them. What better argument could the Bishop advance than the fact that William was known everywhere to be a just man, faithful to his word, and strong—the strongest man in western Europe? Above all things the country desired in a king, then and always, so long as kings ruled and after kings began to reign, was that he should be strong and faithful to his word.

The principal citizens24—among them Edgar Atheling himself—rode forth, met William, and giving hostages, made their submission, and he “concluded a treaty with them,” that is, he promised to respect their laws. According to the A.S. Chronicle, William “vowed that he would be a loving lord” to the City.

William was crowned at Westminster. It is uncertain whether the rival whom he had slain had been crowned at Westminster or at St. Paul’s—probably the latter, as the cathedral church of London. William, in that case, was the first of our kings to be crowned at Westminster. The place was chosen because it contained the tomb of the Confessor, to whom William claimed to succeed by right.

Dean Stanley has told the story of this memorable coronation with graphic hand. It was on Christmas Day. The vast Cathedral, which, newly built, was filled with the burgesses of London—sturdy craftsmen for the most part—“lithsmen” or sailors, merchants—anxious to know whether the old custom would be observed of recognising the voice of the people. It would: every old custom would be jealously observed. But there was suspicion: outside, the Cathedral was guarded by companies of Norman horse. Two prelates performed the ceremony: for the Normans, Godfrey, Bishop of Coutances; for the English, Aldred, Archbishop of York. Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury, had fled into Scotland. When the time came for the popular acclamation, both Bishops addressed the people. Then came the old Saxon shout of election, “Yea—yea.” The Norman soldiers, thinking this to be an outbreak of rebellion, set fire to the Abbey Gates—why did they fire the Gates?—upon which the whole multitude, Saxon and Norman together, poured out in terror, leaving William alone in the church with the two Bishops and the Benedictine monks of St. Peter’s. A stranger coronation was never seen!

Stanley points out the connection, which was kept up, of the Regalia with King Edward the Confessor.

“The Regalia were strictly Anglo-Saxon, by their traditional names: the crown of Alfred, or of St. Edward, for the King; the crown of Edith, wife of the Confessor, for the Queen. The sceptre with the dove was the reminiscence of Edward’s peaceful days after the expulsion of the Danes. The gloves were a perpetual reminder of his abolition of the Danegelt—a token that the King’s hands should be moderate in taking taxes. The ring with which, as the Doge to the Adriatic, so the King to his people was wedded, was the ring of the pilgrim. The coronation robe of Edward was solemnly exhibited in the Abbey twice a year, at Christmas and on the festival of its patron saints, St. Peter and St. Paul. The ‘great stone chalice,’ which was borne by the Chancellor to the altar, out of which the Abbot of Westminster administered the sacramental wine, was believed to have been prized at a high sum ‘in Saint Edward’s days.’ If after the anointing the King’s hair was not smooth, there was King Edward’s ‘ivory comb for that end.’ The form of the oath, retained till the time of James II., was to observe ‘the laws of the glorious Confessor.’ A copy of the Gospels, purporting to have belonged to Athelstane, was the book which was handed down as that on which, for centuries, the coronation oath had been taken. On the arras hung round the choir, at least from the thirteenth century, was the representation of the ceremony, with words which remind us of the analogous inscription in St. John Lateran, expressive of the peculiar privileges of the place:—

The Church of Westminster was called, in consequence, ‘the head, crown, and diadem of the kingdom.’

The Abbot of Westminster was the authorised instructor to prepare each new king for the solemnities of the coronation, as if for confirmation; visiting him two days before, to inform him of the observances, and to warn him to shrive and cleanse his conscience before the holy anointing. If he was ill, the Prior (as now the Subdean) took his place. He was also charged with the singular office of administering the chalice to the King and Queen, as a sign of their conjugal unity, after their reception of the sacrament from the Archbishop. The Convent on that day was to be provided, at the royal expense, with 100 simnels (that is, cakes) of the best bread, a gallon of wine, and as many fish as became the royal dignity.”

The coronation happily over, William began to build his Tower. The City should be fortified against an enemy by its strong wall—the stronger the better—but he was not going to allow it to be fortified against himself. Therefore he would build one Tower on the east and another on the west of the City wall, so that he could command ingress or egress, and also the river above or below the bridge. The Tower on the east became the great White Tower, that in the west was the Castle Montfichet. He was, however, in no hurry to build the greater fortress: the City was loyal and well disposed, he would wait: besides, he had already one foot in the City in Montfichet Tower. So it was not until eleven years after Hastings that he commanded Gundulf, Bishop of Rochester, to undertake the work. The history of the Tower will be found in its place. It took more than thirty years to build.

One of the many great fires which have from time to time ravaged London occurred in 1077, and another in 1087 or 1088; this burned St. Paul’s. Maurice, Bishop of London, began at once to rebuild it. Matthew of Westminster, writing at the beginning of the fourteenth century, says “necdum perfectum est.”

It is a great pity that William’s Domesday Book does not include London. Had it done so, we should have had a Directory, a Survey, of the Norman City. We should have known the extent of the population, the actual trades, the wealth, the civic offices, the markets, motes, hustings, all. What we know, it is true, amounts to a good deal; it seems as if we know all; only those who try to restore the life of early London can understand the gaps in our knowledge, and the many dark places into which we vainly try to peer.

A second Charter granted by William the Conqueror is also preserved at the Guildhall. It is translated as follows:—

“William the King friendly, salutes William the Bishop and Sweyn the Sheriff, and all my Thanes in East Saxony, whom I hereby acquaint that I have granted to Deorman my man, the hide of land at Geddesdune, of which he was deprived. And I will not suffer either the French or the English to hurt them in anything.”

Of this Deorman or Derman, Round (Commune of London, p. 106) makes mention. Among the witnesses to a Charter by Geoffrey de Mandeville, occurs the name of “Thierri son of Deorman.” It is impossible not to suppose that this “Deorman” is the same as William’s “man” of the Charter. Thierri belonged to a rich and prosperous family; his son Bertram held his grandfather’s property at Navington Barrow in Islington, and was a benefactor to the nuns of Clerkenwell. Bertram’s son Thomas bestowed a serf upon St. Paul’s about the beginning of the thirteenth century.

It has always been stated that William the Conqueror brought Jews over with him. But Mr. Joseph Jacobs (Jews of Angevin England), investigating this tradition, inclines to believe that there were no Jews in England before the year 1073 or thereabouts, when there is evidence of their residence in London, Oxford, and Cambridge. Their appointed residence in London was Old Jewry, north of Cheapside.

Stanley recalls the memory of one of those mediÆval miracles which seem invented in a spirit of allegory in order to teach or to illustrate some great truth. It was a miracle performed at the tomb of Edward the Confessor:—

“When, after the revolution of the Norman Conquest, a French and foreign hierarchy was substituted for the native prelates, one Saxon bishop alone remained—Wulfstan, Bishop of Worcester. A Council was summoned to Westminster, over which the Norman king and the Norman primate presided, and Wulfstan was declared incapable of holding his office because he could not speak French. The old man, down to this moment compliant even to excess, was inspired with unusual energy. He walked from St. Catherine’s Chapel, where the Council was held, straight into the Abbey. The King and the prelates followed. He laid his pastoral staff on the Confessor’s tomb before the high altar. First he spoke in Saxon to the dead king: ‘Edward, thou gavest me the staff: to thee I return it.’ Then, with the best Norman words that he could command, he turned to the living king: ‘A better than thou gave it to me—take it if thou canst.’ It remained fixed in the solid stone, and Wulfstan was left at peace in his see. Long afterwards King John, in arguing for the supremacy of the Crown of England in matters ecclesiastical, urged this story at length in answer to the claims of the Papal Legate. Pandulf answered, with a sneer, that John was more like the Conqueror than the Confessor. But, in fact, John had rightly discerned the principle at stake, and the legend expressed the deep-seated feeling of the English people, that in the English Crown and Law lies the true safeguard of the rights of the English clergy. Edward the Confessor’s tomb thus, like the Abbey which incases it, contains an aspect of the complex union of Church and State, of which all English history is a practical fulfilment.” (Westminster Abbey, p. 35.)

The City already contained a mixed population of Saxons, Danes, Normans—“men of Rouen,” and Germans—“men of the Emperor.” There were also Norwegians, Flemings, Gascons, and others of foreign descent in the City when William succeeded. Without insisting too strongly on the actual magnitude of the trade, small indeed compared with that which was to follow, we may point to this gathering of various peoples as a proof that the trade of London was already considered by the whole of western Europe as considerable, and, indeed, of the highest importance. Many more Normans came over after the Conquest. It is said that they chose London in preference to Rouen, because it was “fitter for their trade, and better stored with the merchandise in which they were wont to traffic.” There was also a large settlement of craftsmen in London and in other towns; among them, especially, were weavers and builders. Of these the weavers became, and remained for many generations, extremely unpopular. Cunningham (Growth of English Industry and Commerce, p. 179) suggests an explanation for the otherwise unintelligible hostility of the people towards the weavers. He thinks that before the Conquest weaving was not a national industry; that weavers were brought over by William and remained foreigners, not as taking “scot and lot” with the people.

William appears to have been true to his word as regards the City: he neither oppressed the people himself, nor did he suffer others to do them any harm.

CHAPTER II
DOMESDAY BOOK

The following are the returns of Domesday Book for the villages round London which are included in this Survey. The translations are those of the Rev. William Bawdwen, 1812:—

Stepney.—“In Osuluestan (Ossulston) hundred, the Bishop of London holds Stibenhede (Stepney) for thirty-two hides. There is land to twenty-five ploughs. Fourteen hides belong to the demesne, and there are three ploughs there; and twenty-two ploughs of the villanes. There are forty-four villanes of one virgate each; and seven villanes of half a hide each; and nine villanes of half a virgate each; and forty-six cottagers of one hide; they pay thirty shillings a year. There are four mills of four pounds and sixteen shillings save fourpence. Meadow sufficient for twenty-five ploughs. Pasture for the cattle of the village, and fifteen shillings. Pannage for five hundred hogs, and forty shillings. Its whole value is forty-eight pounds; and it was worth the same when received; in King Edward’s time fifty pounds. This manor was and is part of the see.

In the same village Hugh de Berneres holds five hides and one virgate of land under the bishop. There is land to four ploughs. There is one plough in the demesne; and the villanes have three ploughs. There is one villane of half a hide; and six villanes of three virgates; and two bordars of half a virgate; and three cottagers of two acres and a half; and one mill of sixty-six shillings and eightpence. Meadow sufficient for four ploughs. Pannage for one hundred and fifty hogs, and three shillings and a half. The whole is worth six pounds; the same when received; in King Edward’s time seven pounds. Sired held two hides and a half of this manor, he was a canon of St. Paul’s, he might give and sell it to whom he would without leave of the bishop. In King Edward’s time the canons of St. Paul held two hides and a half for their Sabbath day’s support (de dominico victu suo); and Doding held one virgate, and one mill of the proper manor of the bishop; he could not give or sell it without his leave.

In the same village the wife of Brien holds five hides of the bishop. There is land to two ploughs and a half. There is one plough in the demesne, and the villane might make one plough. There is one villane of half a hide; he pays four shillings a year for his house; and another villane of half a hide, pays eight shillings. Roger the sheriff holds a half a hide, and fifteen bordars of ten acres, pay nine shillings. Pannage for sixty hogs. Pasture for the cattle of the village, and five shillings. It is altogether worth sixty shillings; when received the like; in King Edward’s time one hundred shillings. William, the bishop, held this land in demesne, in the manor of Stibenhede (Stepney), on the very day on which King Edward died.

In the same village Rannulf Flambard holds three hides and a half of the bishop. There is land to five ploughs. There are two ploughs in the demesne; and three ploughs belonging to the villanes. There are fourteen bordars of one hide and a half. Meadow for two ploughs and two shillings. There is no pasture. Wood (nemus) to make hedges. It is altogether worth four pounds. Goduin held this land under Bishop William. In King Edward’s time he could not give nor sell it without leave of the bishop. [Orig. 127, b. 1.]

In the same village William de Ver holds one hide of the bishop. There is land to one plough, and it is there in the demesne. This land is worth sixteen shillings; the like when received; in King Edward’s time twenty shillings. In King Edward’s time, William, the bishop, held this land in demesne with his manor of Stibenhede (Stepney).

In the same village Engelbric, a canon, holds of the bishop one hide and one virgate. There is land to one plough, and it is there in the demesne. There is one villane of one virgate; and four bordars of seven acres each; and one cottager. It is worth altogether forty shillings; the like when received; in King Edward’s time forty shillings. The same canon held it of Bishop William. In King Edward’s time he could not sell it.

In the same village the Bishop of Lisieux holds one hide and a half of the Bishop of London. There is land to one plough; and there is a half a plough there; and a half may be made. There are two bordars of five acres each; and two cottagers of four acres; and one cottager. In the whole it is worth forty shillings; the like when received; in King Edward’s time fifty shillings. Bishop William held this land in demesne on the very day King Edward died.

In the same village, William, the chamberlain, holds one hide and a half, and one virgate, of the bishop. There is land to one plough and a half. There is one plough in the demesne; and a half may be made. There is one villane of one virgate; and six bordars of five acres. It is in the whole worth thirty shillings; when received the like; in King Edward’s time forty shillings. Bishop William held this land in demesne on the day on which King Edward died.

In the same village Aluric Chacepul holds one hide of the bishop. There is land to one plough, but the plough is wanting. This land is worth ten shillings; the like when received; in King Edward’s time thirteen shillings and fourpence. Bishop William held this land in demesne in King Edward’s time.

In the same village Edmund, son of Algot, holds one mill of the bishop, which is worth thirty-two shillings and sixpence; the like when received; but it was not there in King Edward’s time.

In the same village Aluuin, son of Britmar, holds one mill which is worth twenty shillings; the like when received; in King Edward’s time the like. He himself held it of Bishop William.”

Fulham.—“In Fvleham (Fulham) the Bishop of London holds forty hides. There is land to forty ploughs. Thirteen hides belong to the demesne, and there are four ploughs there. Among the freemen (franc) and the villanes are twenty-six ploughs; and ten more might be made. There are five villanes of one hide each; and thirteen villanes of one virgate each; and thirty-four villanes of half a virgate each; and twenty-two cottagers of half a hide; and eight cottagers with their own gardens. Foreigners and certain burgesses of London hold amongst them twenty-three hides of the land of the villanes. Thirty-one villanes and bordars dwell under them. Meadow for forty ploughs. Pasture for the cattle of the village. For half the stream ten shillings. Pannage for one thousand hogs, and seventeen pence. Its whole value is forty pounds; the like when received; in King Edward’s time fifty pounds. This manor was and is part of the see.

In the same village Fulchered holds five hides of the Bishop of London. There is land to three ploughs. There is one plough in the demesne; and one plough of the villanes, and a third may be made. There are six villanes of half a hide; and four cottagers of eight acres; and three cottagers. Meadow for one ox. Pasture for the cattle of the village. Pannage for three hundred hogs. Its whole value is sixty shillings; the like when received; in King Edward’s time one hundred shillings. Two sokemen held this land; they were vassals of the Bishop of London; they could not give or sell without leave of the bishop in King Edward’s time. [Orig. 127, b. 2.]

Manor.—In the same village the canons of St. Paul hold of the King five hides for one manor. There is land to five ploughs. Three hides belong to the demesne, and there are two ploughs there. The villanes have two ploughs, and a third may be made. There are eight villanes of one virgate each; and seven villanes of half a virgate each; and seven bordars of five acres each; and sixteen cottagers; and two bondmen. Meadow for five ploughs. Pasture for the cattle of the village. Pannage for one hundred and fifty hogs. It is worth, in the whole, eight pounds; the same when received; in King Edward’s time ten pounds. The same canons of St. Paul held this manor in demesne in King Edward’s time, and it is for their support (de victu eorum).”

Rugmere.—“Ralph, a canon, holds Rugemere (Rugmere). It answered for two hides. There is land to one plough and a half. There is one plough in the demesne, and half a plough may be made. Wood (nemus) for the hedges, and four shillings. This land is worth thirty-five shillings; the same when received; in King Edward’s time forty shillings. It was, in King Edward’s time, and is now in the demesne of the canons.”

St. Pancras.—“The canons of St. Paul hold four hides to Scm Pancratium (St. Pancras). There is land to two ploughs. The villanes have one plough, and another plough may be made. Wood for the hedges. Pasture for the cattle, and twentypence. There are four villanes who hold this land under the canons; and seven cottagers. Its whole value is forty shillings; the same when received; in King Edward’s time sixty shillings. This manor was and is in the demesne of St. Paul.”

Islington.—“In Isendone (Islington) the canons of St. Paul have two hides. Land to one plough and a half. There is one plough there, and a half may be made. There are three villanes of one virgate. Pasture for the cattle of the village. This land is and was worth forty shillings. This laid and lies in the demesne of the church of St. Paul.

In the same village the canons themselves have two hides of land. There is land there to two ploughs and a half, and they are there now. There are four villanes who hold this land under the canons; and four bordars and thirteen cottagers. This land is worth thirty shillings; the same when received; in King Edward’s time forty shillings. This laid and lies in the demesne of the church of St. Paul.”

Hoxton.—“In Hochestone (Hoxton) the canons of St. Paul have one hide. Land to one plough, and it is now there; and three villanes hold this land under the canons. Pasture for the cattle. This land was and is worth twenty shillings. This laid and lies in the demesne of the church of St. Paul.

Manor.—The canons hold Hochestone (Hoxton) for three hides. There is land to three ploughs, and they are there; and seven villanes who hold this land; and sixteen cottagers. It is worth in the whole fifty-five shillings; the same when received; in King Edward’s time sixty shillings. This manor belonged and belongs to the church of St. Paul.

The canons of St. Paul have, at the bishop’s gate, ten cottagers of nine acres, who pay eighteen shillings and sixpence a year. In King Edward’s time they likewise held them, and they had the same.”

Westminster.—“In the village where the church of St. Peter is situate, the abbot of the same place holds thirteen hides and a half. There is land to eleven ploughs. Nine hides and one virgate belong to the demesne, and there are four ploughs therein. The villanes have six ploughs, and one plough more may be made. There are nine villanes of one virgate each; one villane of one hide; and nine villanes of half a virgate each; and one cottager of five acres; and forty-one cottagers who pay forty shillings a year for their gardens. Meadow for eleven ploughs. Pasture for the cattle of the village. Pannage for one hundred hogs. And twenty-five houses of the knights of the abbot and of other vassals, who pay eight shillings a year. Its whole value is ten pounds; the same when received; in King Edward’s time twelve pounds. This manor was and is in the demesne of the church of St. Peter, of Westminster.

In the same village Bainiard holds three hides of the abbot. There is land to two ploughs, and they are there in the demesne, and one cottager. Pannage for one hundred hogs. Pasture for the cattle. There are four arpents of vineyard, newly planted. Its whole value is sixty shillings; when received twenty shillings; in King Edward’s time six pounds. This land belonged and belongs to the church of St. Peter.”

Hampstead.—“The Abbot of St. Peter holds Hamestede (Hampstead) for four hides. Land to three ploughs. Three hides and a half belong to the demesne, and there is one plough therein. The villanes have one plough, and another may be made. There is one villane of one virgate; and five bordars of one virgate; and one bondman. Pannage for one hundred hogs. In the whole it is worth fifty shillings; the same when received; in King Edward’s time one hundred shillings.

In the same village Rannulf Pevrel holds under the abbot, one hide of the land of the villanes. Land to half a plough, and it is there. This land was and is worth five shillings. This manor altogether laid and lies in the demesne of the church of St. Peter.”

Tyburn.—“The abbess of Berking holds Tiburne (Tyburn) of the King; it answered for five hides. Land to three ploughs. There are two hides in the demesne, and there is one plough therein. The villanes have two ploughs. There are two villanes of half a hide; and one villane of half a virgate; and two bordars of ten acres; and three cottagers. Pasture for the cattle of the village. Pannage for fifty hogs. For herbage fortypence. It is worth in the whole fifty-two shillings; the same when received; in King Edward’s time one hundred shillings. This manor always belonged and belongs to the church of Berking.”

Eia.—“Geoffry de Mandeville holds Eia (qu. Ealing). It answered for ten hides. There is land to eight ploughs. In the demesne are five hides, and there are two ploughs therein. The villanes have five ploughs, and a sixth may be made. There is one villane of half a hide; and four villanes of one virgate each; and fourteen others of half a virgate each; and four bordars of one virgate; and one cottager. Meadow for eight ploughs, and for hay sixty shillings. For pasture seven shillings. Its whole value is eight pounds; when received six pounds; in King Edward’s time twelve pounds. Harold, son of Earl Ralph, held this manor, whom Queen Eddid protected (custodiebat) with the manor on that very day on which King Edward died. Afterwards William, the chamberlain, held it of the Queen in fee for three pounds a year rent; and after the death of the Queen he held it in the same manner of the King. There are now four years since William relinquished the manor, and the rent (that is twelve pounds) is not paid to the King from it.

In the same hundred Ralph holds of Geoffry one hide and a half. There is land to one plough, and it is there; and four bordars of fourteen acres; and one bondman. Meadow for one plough. Pasture for the cattle, and thirteen pence. Wood (nemus) for the hedges. This land is worth twenty shillings; when received, and in King Edward’s time, thirty shillings. Two of King Edward’s sokemen held this land; they might sell it to whom they would.”

Stepney.—“Robert Fafiton holds four hides of the King in Stibenhed (Stepney). There is land to three ploughs, and they are now there. There is one villane of fourteen acres; and another of twelve acres; and Roger, the sheriff, has one hide; and a bordar of half a hide and half a virgate. Pannage for sixty hogs, and four shillings. It is worth in the whole twenty shillings; the same when received; in King Edward’s time eight pounds. Sired, a canon of St. Paul’s, held this manor; he might sell it to whom he would. In King Edward’s time the Bishop of London disputed his right to it (reclam se habe debere). Besides these four hides there are now fifty-three acres of land, which were not there in King Edward’s time, which Hugh de Berneres usurped on the canons of St. Paul, and added it to this manor, as the hundred testifies.

Robert, son of Rozelin, holds of the King three hides and a half in Stibenhed (Stepney). Land to two ploughs. Two hides are in the demesne, and there is one plough therein. The villanes have one plough. There is one villane of one virgate; and eight bordars of half a virgate each; and four cottagers of nineteen acres. Meadow for two ploughs; and wood for the hedges (nemus ad sepes). The whole is worth fifty-three shillings; when received ten shillings; in King Edward’s time four pounds. Aluuin Stichehare held this land for one manor; he was a vassal of King Edward’s; he might sell it to whom he would. The Bishop of London claims it.”

Chelsea.—“Edward de Sarisberie holds Chelched or Cercehede (Chelsea) for two hides. There is land to five ploughs. One hide is in the demesne, and there are now two ploughs there. The villanes have one plough, and two ploughs might yet be made. There are two villanes of two virgates; and four villanes of half a virgate each; and three bordars of five acres each; and three bondmen. Meadow for two ploughs. Pasture for the cattle of the village. Pannage for sixty hogs, and fifty-two pence. Its whole value is nine pounds; the same when received, and always. Wluuene, a vassal of King Edward’s, held this manor; he might sell it to whom he would.”

Kensington.—“Aubrey de Ver holds Chenesit (Kensington) of the Bishop of Constance. It answered for ten hides. There is land to ten ploughs. There are four ploughs in the demesne there, and the villanes have five ploughs, and a sixth might be made. There are twelve villanes of one virgate each; and six villanes of three virgates. A priest has half a virgate; and there are seven bondmen. Meadow for two ploughs. Pasture for the cattle of the village. Pannage for two hundred hogs. And three arpents of vineyard. Its whole value is ten pounds; when received six pounds; in King Edward’s time ten pounds. Eduuin, a thane of King Edward’s, held this manor, and might sell it.”

Islington.—“Derman holds of the King half a hide in Iseldone (Islington). There is land to half a plough. There is one villane there. This land is and was worth ten shillings. Algar, a vassal of King Edward’s, held this land, and he might sell and give it.”

Lisson Green.—“Lilestone (Lilestone) answered for five hides. Eideua holds it of the King. There is land to three ploughs. Four hides and a half are in the demesne, and there are two ploughs there. The villanes have one plough. There are four villanes of half a virgate each; and three cottagers of two acres; and one bondman. Meadow for one plough. Pasture for the cattle of the village. Pannage for one hundred hogs. For herbage threepence. Its whole value is sixty shillings; the same when received; in King Edward’s time forty shillings.’ Edward, son of Suan, a vassal of King Edward’s, held this manor, and might sell it.”

According to the A.S. Chronicle, King William held a great Council, and had much discourse “as to how the land was holden and by what men. He sent over all England into every shire his men, and let them inquire how many hundred hides were in each shire, and what land and cattle the King himself had in the shire, and what rent he ought to receive yearly in each. He let them also inquire how much land his archbishops had, and his other bishops and his abbots, and each and what and how much every man had who held land within the kingdom, as well on land as on cattle, and how much each was worth.”

It must be remembered that the King under the Feudal system was the overlord of all estates, and there was no land which was not under the King as overlord. In the Survey of Middlesex there is no manor returned as belonging to the Crown. In Ossulston Hundred, the King held 12½ acres of “No man’s land”; he also had thirty cottagers in one place and two in another. Twenty-two owners of manors in Middlesex are entered in Domesday, of these the Church had by far the largest share, viz. the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Abbot of Westminster, the Abbot of the Holy Trinity at Rouen, the Abbess of Barking, and the Bishop and Canons of St. Paul. The last owned the principal part of Ossulston Hundred.

The largest manor round London was Stepney: at a very early period the hamlets of Shoreditch, Stratford Bow, Hackney, Bethnal Green, Whitechapel, Spitalfields, St. George’s in the East, Shadwell and Limehouse are supposed to have been carved out of the great manor and parish: in other words, the original parish of Stepney extended from the great north road of Bishopsgate Without to the River Lea. That a great part of Ossulston Hundred belonged to St. Paul’s is shown by the fact that Twyford, Willesden, Harlesden, Totehill, St. Pancras, Islington, Newington, Horton, Hoxton, and Drayton all belonged to this church. The Abbot of Westminster held the manor—only second in size to Stepney—of his church, that of Hampstead, that of Hendon, and another manor, probably Belsize. There were only eight lay proprietors of manors in the county.

It is clear from the Domesday that London was confined within its wall; that Westminster had no existence as a town; that outside the walls the only parish inhabited, except by farmers, was a part of Stepney; and that the northern part of the county, as is proved by the “pannage” for swine, was covered with forest beginning beyond Islington and Kentish Town, and covering Hampstead and Highgate, and so east and west to Willesden on the west and the Essex Forest on the east.

In other words, there lay, all around London, a broad belt of manors belonging to the Church. We may consider how the ownership of this land would affect building and settlement outside the walls. We find, what we should expect, the first settlement on the Moorland immediately north of the walls; Smithfield and Clerkenwell the first suburbs. We then find houses built as far as the “Bars” in the Whitechapel Road, then in Holborn, and then in Fleet Street and in Bishopsgate Without. Beyond the Bars there are difficulties; they seem to be surmounted in Chancery Lane and St. Giles’s, also along the Strand, but not on the east side, nor on the north. It would be interesting had one the time to trace the gradual removal of the prohibition to build on the part of the Bishop of London, the Abbot of Westminster, and the Chapter of St. Paul’s.

CHAPTER III
WILLIAM RUFUS

This king—of a strange and inexplicable personality—gave no Charter to the City so far as is known, nor do there appear to have been any events of importance in London itself during his reign. One or more destructive fires, a hurricane, and a famine, or at least a scarcity, are mentioned.

William Rufus followed his father’s example in being crowned at Westminster. And as the Conqueror was crowned by a Norman and a Saxon Bishop, so he also was crowned by the Norman Archbishop of Canterbury and the last Saxon Bishop, Wulfstan.

In the Chronicle of Florence of Worcester, it is mentioned that on the outbreak of the Civil War, the year after the accession of William Rufus, he collected his army in London; that it consisted mainly of English whom he made loyal by promising “just laws”; that while William was besieging Pevensey, the garrison of Rochester fell upon the people of Canterbury and London with fire and sword. Had the King taken from London the power of defence? Were there no walls and gates, or were there traitors within the walls and gates? The A.S. Chronicle says nothing of this massacre; it speaks, however, of discontent. When the rebellion in favour of Robert broke out, the King “was greatly disturbed in mind; and he sent for the English, and laid his necessities before them, and entreated their assistance. He promised them better laws than had ever been in this land, and forbade all unjust taxes, and guaranteed to his subjects their woods and hunting. But these concessions were soon done away. Howbeit the English came to the aid of their lord the King, and they then marched towards Rochester.”

William spent very little time in London or at Westminster. Once he held his Christmas at the King’s House, Westminster, and twice he held Whitsuntide there. At the feasts of Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide the King feasted in public, wearing his crown.

In the year 1092, Florence of Worcester says that a fire destroyed nearly the whole of London. The A.S. Chronicle does not notice the event. Like the alleged massacre in London by the men of Rochester, we may suppose that the damage was exaggerated.

The slender annals of the City during this reign do not, therefore, tell us much. As for its internal condition, the trade and the prosperity of the place, it is not to be supposed that in a time of continual wars, internal and external, the trade of London could possibly advance; nor is it likely that when the hand of the King was heavy with exactions and unjust taxation upon the rest of his kingdom, London would escape. In reading the history of this king, one is continually wishing that a layman had written an account of his sayings and doings. The ecclesiastics were embittered against a man who was not only a derider of the Church, but also a robber of the Church; who held in his own hand, keeping them vacant, bishoprics and monasteries; who dared to say that he had no belief in saints; who discouraged the conversion of Jews, and even persuaded the Jews to hold a public debate with Christians as to the tenets of their faith, promising to become a convert if they should defeat the Christians. This part of the story is, however, doubtful. William of Malmesbury believed it. He says, “The thing was done, to the great fear of the Bishops and clergy, fearing with pious solicitude for the Christian faith, and from this contest the Jews received nothing but confusion, though they often boasted that they had been conquered not by argument but by power.” One would like to have been present at the debate.

The few glimpses we get of London do not point to prosperity or to contentment. The A.S. Chronicle (A.D. 1097) says, “Many shires which are bound to duty in works at London were greatly oppressed in making the wall round the Tower, in repairing the bridge which had been almost washed away, and in building the King’s Hall at Westminster. These hardships fell upon many.”

The memory of the general misery of the time is preserved in a curiously suggestive manner: by the record of those strange and monstrous events which only occur in times of trouble and injustice. There was an earthquake; there was a very late harvest; lightning struck the head off a crucifix. There was a deluge of rain such as had never before been seen; there was a hard frost which froze rivers; there was a rapid thaw which tore away bridges; there was a famine, so severe, in some parts, that the dying wanted attention and the dead wanted burial; there was a comet; there were stars which fought with each other; there was a high tide which ran up the Thames and inundated many villages; the devil appeared in person to many, speaking to them in woods and secret places. It is not reported what he said, which is a pity; he seems, however, to have been in a gracious mood, no doubt because things were going on quite to his liking. Lastly, a spring at Finchampstead began to flow with blood, an omen which filled everybody, except the King, with terror and gloomy forebodings. The King, it is reported, laughed at the omen.

William’s sudden and tragic death—clearly a proof of Heaven’s displeasure—gave rise to a whole group of omens and dreams. The Abbot of Cluny is reported to have told the brothers on the very morning after the death, long before the news could have arrived, that King William was “last night brought before God, and that he was sentenced to damnation.” The King himself was terrified by a dream the night before his death; a monk had a terrible dream which he brought to the King the very morning of his death. And so on. The point remains that all these monstrous signs and portents indicate a time of general terror, when no one knew what taxes or burdens might be laid upon him by a king who was strong of will, not afraid of Pope or Bishop, or anything that the Church could do or threaten: a king of strange freaks and uncertain temper: influenced by no one; feared for his courage; respected for his success in war; beloved by his favourites; prodigal and extravagant; a free-thinker; a man of no private morality; and of so little respect for the Church that he made his Bishops and Abbots strip off the gold from their shrines, and melt down their chalices. Wherever he went his Court was composed chiefly of young men who wore flowing hair and extravagant dress; who, as the Chronicle says, “rivalled women in delicacy of person, minced their gait, and walked with loose gesture and half-naked.” They plundered the country far and wide; what they could not devour they sold or destroyed. If it was liquor, they washed their horses’ legs with what they could not drink. “Droves of harlots” followed the Court. No wonder the fountain of Finchampstead ran with blood. At the same time, it must be remembered that the ecclesiastics who wrote these things were not likely to take a favourable view of their oppressor.

CHAPTER IV
HENRY I

William Rufus was killed on Thursday, August 2, 1100, and buried on Friday. Henry rode off to London without the least delay: he arrived on Saturday; conferred with the leading citizens on the same day, and was actually crowned at Westminster on Sunday. Haste such as this shows not only his desire to get crowned before his elder brother could interfere, but points to the danger to the realm if the throne were vacant even for a single day. J. R. Green, in a paper on the election of Stephen, dwells upon the importance and the power of the citizens of London, who could thus of their own authority elect and crown a king. But, in fact, the City only repeated in the case of Stephen their action in the case of Henry. The latter rode at headlong speed from the New Forest to London—he must have ridden night and day. To be sure, it was the height of summer, when the roads were dry and hard. He presented himself before the Bishop and Portreeve and the notables of London. “Make me your king,” he said. “In return I will give you what you most desire, peace and order. I will do more. I will marry Maude, daughter of Malcolm, King of Scots, and of Margaret, sister of Edgar, heiress of the line of Alfred, and will make the crown secure and the country free from civil war.” They agreed. It is generally believed that the citizens made a bargain with Henry for new privileges. What they wanted most was a strong king, who would make peace and keep it; enforce his laws; put down highway robbery and oppression and piracy, and make trade possible. There was not much thought of new privileges, but first and foremost—of order. Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, was absent. The King was crowned by Maurice, Bishop of London, who had the greatest share in his election. Three months later the King’s wife, Maude, the Saxon heiress, was also crowned in the Abbey, and feasted in the Red King’s Hall, to the unspeakable joy of the whole country.

It has generally been stated that Henry bestowed upon the City the famous Charter, by which their liberties were greatly widened, in the very first year of his reign, as a reward for their support and election. There are, however, strong reasons for believing that at the beginning of his reign he confined himself to promises or to a confirmation of his father’s Charter, and that the document known as his Charter was granted in reality in the year 1130, five years before his death. What the City obtained from Henry was a time of peace: when criminals had no mercy to expect; when a man might drive his caravan of pack-horses from fair to fair without fear of robbers; and the King acted up to his promise that none should do his people wrong. That he was an expensive king: that he demanded money without end or stint, was pardoned in return for the priceless boon of peace and order.

I have thought it best to consider Henry’s Charter in a separate chapter, clause by clause, in connection with the gradual rise of the power of the Londoners, as is fitting for the most important of all the Charters by which London rose to liberty and greatness. It will suffice here to indicate generally the nature of the Charter by quoting the words of Bishop Stubbs, Constitutional History, p. 439:—

“The Charter of Henry I. shows a marked advance. The City is recognised as a distinct unity, although that unity depends on hereditary succession only: it is independent of county organisation, the county in which it lies is itself let at ferm to the citizens; it is placed on a level with the shires, it is to have a sheriff of its own and a justiciar: as a greater privilege still, it is to elect its own sheriff and justiciar, and to be open to no other jurisdiction than that of its own elected officers. The citizens are not to be called before any court outside their own walls, and are freed from Danegeld, from scot and lot, from responsibility from the murder-fine and obligation to trial by battle: they are freed from toll and other duties of the kind throughout all England, at the ports as well as inland. They are to possess their lands, the common lands of their township, and their rights of coursing in Chiltern, Middlesex, and Surrey. Yet with all this no new incorporation is bestowed: the churches, the barons, the citizens, retain their ancient customs; the churches their sokens, the barons their manors, the citizens their township organisation, and possibly their guilds.”

In the year 1125 there was done a deed of justice grim and terrible: one which caused the ears of all who heard it to tingle. One does not know how far London was concerned with it. But that there were “moneyers” or minters in London is certain. Three, viz. Achard, Lefwin Besant, and Ailwin Finch, were moneyers of London in 1149. And nothing is said as to any exception in favour of London. There had been grave and universal complaints about the coinage, which was debased by those who struck it. Henry considered the subject, he doubtless tested the coins; he made up his mind that all were guilty, and thereupon “commanded that all the minters in England should be deprived of their right hands and should be also, in another well-known manner, mutilated. And this “because a man may have a pound and yet not be able to spend a penny in the market.” He means that the pound might consist of debased money. Accordingly, Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, sent over all England, and invited every minter to come to Winchester at Christmas, without letting any one know what awaited him: and when they obediently journeyed thither, thinking probably they were to receive some new privilege, his men took them one by one, cut off their right hands and deprived them of their manhood. “All this was done within twelve days, and with much justice, because they had ruined this land with the great quantity of bad metal they had all corrupted.” A strong king, truly! One can imagine the discourse of the unhappy minters on the way. Some signal mark of the King’s favour was coming, some promotion from the Bishop, larger powers, greater profits. The Bishop said never a word of his purpose; he received them courteously; he invited them as to a feast; and then, one by one—Alas! Poor Minters! Never more did they debase the coinage. This summary and terrible act of justice, if it included London, must have fallen upon some of the most eminent merchants in the City: not, one hopes, upon Orgar the Proud, of whom we hear more in connection with deeds and documents of the time and as one of the notables of the City.

In the year 1126 a famine fell upon the land.

In 1132 a fire which began at the house of Gilbert Becket in West Chepe destroyed the greater part of the north-east quarter of London.

During this reign the Priory of the Holy Trinity, that of St. Mary Overies, and the Priory and Hospital of St. Bartholomew were founded. It is generally asserted that the Benedictine Nunnery of Clerkenwell was founded by one Jordan Briset in 1100, but Mr. H. J. Round has now proved that both this nunnery and the Priory of St. John were founded about the year 1145. Queen Maude also founded the Lazar-House of St. Giles in the Fields. (See MediÆval London, vol. ii. p. 311.)

There were grave complaints by ecclesiastics against the luxury and effeminacy of the age—but every age has its complaints of luxury. Young men wore their hair as long as women. They also dressed with as much splendour and attention as women; they crowned themselves with wreaths of flowers. Despite the revival of religion, the corruption of morals attributed to William Rufus was continued under his successor: the King himself was notorious for his amours and infidelities. He was led to repentance in his old age by one of those dreams which fill up a good part of the Chronicles. In this dream he saw pass before him a procession. First marched the ploughmen with their tools; next, the craftsmen with theirs; then came the soldiers bearing arms, and with them the Barons and Knights. Last of all came the clergy with their Bishops. But the latter were armed with their croziers, and they ran upon the King as if they would kill him with these hallowed weapons. The dreamer sprang out of bed and seized his sword to defend himself. When he awoke, behold! it was a dream. But the terror remained, and Henry set himself to repentance and amendment. No doubt he remembered how a dream of warning had been sent to his brother, by neglect of which he came to his untimely end.

The importance of this reign to the City of London lies mainly in the Charter which we are about to discuss: we must not, however, forget the order which Henry I. established and maintained in every part of his kingdom. This order was especially valued in a place like London, which could only carry on its trade in security when order was maintained. And though London contained so many citizens of Norman birth and descent, the great mass of the people were English, and could not fail to be pleased when Henry showed that he threw himself upon the support of his English subjects, when he married an English wife, and restored through her the line of Alfred to the throne. A great king, a strong king, a just king. What more could the times desire?

CHAPTER V
THE CHARTER of HENRY I

We know that in the memorable and brief document which is called William’s Charter, the laws and customs of Edward the Confessor were simply confirmed. Probably the City asked no more and wanted no more. Sixty years later the City, having prospered and grown and being wiser, wished for a definition of their laws and liberties, which was given them by Henry the First. I say sixty, and not thirty years, because, as has been already advanced, it seems probable that Henry’s Charter was granted in the year 1130, and not, as has been generally assumed, at the beginning of his reign. I now propose to take this Charter clause by clause.

“Henry, by the grace of God, King of England, to the archbishop of Canterbury, and to the bishops and abbots, earls and barons, justices and sheriffs, and to all his faithful subjects of England, French and English, greeting.

Know ye that I have granted to my citizens of London, to hold Middlesex to farm for three hundred pounds, upon accompt to them and their heirs: so that the said citizens shall place as sheriff whom they will of themselves: and shall place whomsoever, or such a one as they will of themselves, for keeping of the pleas of the crown, and of the pleadings of the same, and none other shall be justice over the same men of London: and the citizens of London shall not plead without the walls of London for any plea. And be they free from scot and lot and danegeld, and of all murder: and none of them shall wage battle. And if any one of the citizens shall be impleaded concerning the pleas of the crown, the man of London shall discharge himself by his oath, which shall be adjudged within the City: and none shall lodge within the walls, neither of my household, nor any other, nor lodging delivered by force.

And all the men of London shall be quit and free, and all their goods, throughout England, and the ports of the sea, of and from all toll and passage and lestage, and all other customs: and the churches and barons and citizens shall and may peaceably and quietly have and hold their sokes with all their customs; so that the strangers that shall be lodged in the sokes shall give custom to none but to him to whom the soke appertains, or to his officer, whom he shall put there: And a man of London shall not be adjudged in amerciaments of money but of one hundred shillings (I speak of the pleas which appertain to money); and further there shall be no more miskenning in the hustings, nor in the folkmote, nor in any other pleas within the City: and in the hustings may sit once a week, that is to say, on Monday: And I will cause my citizens to have their lands, premises, bonds and debts, within the City and without: and I will do them right by the law of the City, of the lands of which they shall complain to me:

And if they shall take toll or custom of any citizen of London, the citizens of London in the City shall take of the borough or town, where toll or custom was so taken, so much as the man of London gave for toll, and as he received damage thereby; and all debtors, which do owe debts to the citizens of London, shall pay them in London, or else discharge themselves in London, that they owe none: but, if they will not pay the same, neither some to clear themselves that they owe none, the citizens of London, to whom the debts shall be due, may take their goods in the City of London, of the borough or town, or of the country wherein he remains who shall owe the debt: And the citizens of London may have their chaces to hunt, as well and fully as their ancestors have had, that is to say, in Chiltre, and in Middlesex and Surrey.

Witness the bishop of Winchester, and Robert son of Richier, and Hugh Bygot, and Alured of Toteneys, and William of Alba-spina and Hubert the King’s chamberlain, and William de Montfichet, and Hangulf de Teney, and John Bellet, and Robert son of Siward. At Westminster.”

The Charter of Henry the First must be considered both on account of the liberties and privileges it grants, and the light it throws upon the government of the City.

First—The Charter is addressed, not to the City of London with which it was concerned, but to “The Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Bishops and the Abbots, Earls and Barons, Justices and Sheriffs, and all his faithful subjects, French and English, of all England.”

Why was it not addressed to the City? Because as yet there was no City in the modern sense of the word. It might have been addressed to the Bishop and the Portreeve, as William’s Charter: it was addressed to the whole country, because the concessions made to London were understood to concern the whole country.

From a historical point of view, the constitution of London at this time is of very great importance, for the simple reason that, after the Norman Conquest, London, by a succession of fortunate events, almost wholly escaped the changes and innovations introduced by the Normans. In the midst of the feudal oppressions and exactions which weighed down the rest of the kingdom, London still preserved untouched and undisturbed the free and independent rights which had belonged to all the towns of the kingdom—there were not many—in Saxon times. In this respect London was not only the one surviving Saxon City, she contained also the very Ark of the English constitution itself.

Let us now return to Henry’s Charter, taking it point by point.

(1) He grants to the citizens the Farm of Middlesex for £300 yearly rent.

That is to say, the citizens of London were to have the right of collecting the King’s demesne revenues within the limits of the County of Middlesex. These revenues consisted of dues and tolls at markets, ports, and bridges, with fines and forfeitures accruing from the penal provisions of forest laws, and from the fines from the Courts of Justice. They were collected by the Sheriff or the Portreeve for the King; or they were farmed by the Sheriff, who paid a fixed sum for the whole, making his own profit or his own loss out of the difference between the sum collected and the sum paid. Now if the collection of dues was granted to the citizens, a corporate body was thereby informally created, though the people might not understand entirely what it meant.

This grant has given rise to some controversy. The views and arguments advanced by Mr. J. H. Round (Geoffrey de Mandeville, App. P, pp. 347 et seq.) appear to me to satisfy all the conditions of the problem and to meet all the difficulties. In what follows, therefore, I shall endeavour to explain the meaning of the concession and its bearing upon the early administration of the City in accordance with the views of this scholar and antiquary.

The important words of the Charter are these:—

“Sciatis me concessisse civibus meis London(iarum), tenendum Middlesex ad firmam pro ccc libris ad compotum, ipsis et hÆredibus suis de me et hÆredibus meis ita quod ipsi cives ponent vicecomitem qualem voluerint de se ipsis: et justitiarium qualem voluerint de se ipsis, ad custodiendum placita coronÆ meÆ et eadem placitanda, et nullus alius erit justitiarius super ipsos homines London(iarum).”

Does this grant mean the shrievalty of Middlesex apart from London or of Middlesex including London? “In the almost contemporary Pipe Roll (31 Hen. 1) it is called the Ferm of ‘London.’”

In the Charters granted to Geoffrey, Stephen gives him the “Shrievalties of London and Middlesex,” while the Empress gives him the “Shrievalty of London and Middlesex.” Again, “the Pipe Rolls of Henry the Second denote the same firma as that of ‘London,’ and also as that of ‘London and Middlesex.’” In the Roll of Richard the First there is the phrase “de veteri firma Comitat’ Lond’ et Middelsexa.” And Henry the Third grants to the citizens of London—

“Vicecomitatum LondoniÆ et de Middelsexia, cum omnibus rebus et consuetudinibus quÆ pertinent ad predictum Vicecomitatum, infra civitatem et extra per terras et aquas ... Reddendo inde annuatim ... trescentas libras sterlingorum blancorum.”

Round also maintains that the Royal Writs and Charters bear the same witness. When they are directed to the local authorities it is to those of London, or of “London and Middlesex,” or of “Middlesex.” The three are, for all purposes, used as equivalent terms. “There was never but one ferm and never but one shrievalty.”

I need not follow Round in his arguments against other opinions. The treatment of Middlesex, he says, including London, was exactly like that of other counties. The firma of Herts was £60; that of Essex £300; that of Middlesex, the very small shire, because it included London, and for no other reason, was £300 also.

In other counties the “reeve” took his title from the “shire.” In Middlesex, where the “port” was the most important part of the shire, the “reeve” took his name from the port. The Vicecomes of “London,” or “London and Middlesex,” was the successor of the Portreeve, or he was the Portreeve under another name. The Shirereeve and the Portreeve, then, are never mentioned together; writs are directed to a Portreeve, or to a Shirereeve, but never to both. William the Conqueror addresses, in Anglo-Saxon, the Portreeve; in Latin, the Vicecomes. Round sums up (p. 359):—

“This conclusion throws a new light on the Charter by which Henry I. granted to the citizens of London Middlesex (i.e. Middlesex inclusive of London) at Farm. Broadly speaking, the transaction in question may be regarded in this aspect. Instead of leasing the corpus comitatus to any one individual for a year, or for a term of years, the king leased it to the citizens as a body, leased it, moreover, in perpetuity, and at the low original firma of £300 a year. The change effected was simply that which was involved in placing the citizens, as a body, in the shoes of the Sheriff ‘of London and Middlesex.’”

We find Stephen and the Empress in turn bestowing upon Geoffrey de Mandeville the shrievalty of London and Middlesex. Therefore no regard at all was paid to Henry’s Charter by Stephen or the Empress.

From all this it follows that if Henry’s Charter should be dated 1130, the citizens enjoyed the right of electing their Sheriffs and paying the moderate rent of £300 for five years only, out of the whole century. Let me once more quote Round (p. 372):—

“We see then that, in absolute contradiction of the received belief on the subject, the shrievalty was not in the hands of the citizens during the twelfth century (i.e. from ‘1101’), but was held by them for a few years only, about the close of the reign of Henry I. The fact that the sheriffs of London and Middlesex were, under Henry II. and Richard I., appointed throughout by the Crown, must compel our historians to reconsider the independent position they have assigned to the City at that period. The Crown, moreover, must have had an object in retaining this appointment in its own hands. We may find it, I think, in that jealousy of exceptional privilege or exemption which characterised the rÉgime of Henry II. For, as I have shown, the charters to Geoffrey remind us that the ambition of the urban communities was analogous to that of the great feudatories, in so far as they both strove for exemption from official rule. It was precisely to this ambition that Henry II. was opposed; and thus, when he granted his charter to London, he wholly omitted two of his grandfather’s concessions, and narrowed down those that remained, that they might not be operative outside the actual walls of the City. When the shrievalty was restored by John to the citizens (1199), the concession had lost its chief importance through the triumph of the ‘communal’ principle. When that civic revolution had taken place which introduced the ‘communa’ with its mayor—a revolution to which Henry II. would never, writes the Chronicler, have submitted—when a Londoner was able to boast that he would have no king but his mayor, then had the sheriff’s position become but of secondary importance, subordinate, as it has remained ever since, to that of the mayor himself.”

As to the “independent position” of the City spoken of in this passage, perhaps that has been partly exaggerated. At the same time, when we consider (1) that London, as Stubbs states and Round agrees, was a bundle of communities, townships, parishes, and lordships, of which each had its own constitution; that (2) as Stubbs states and Round agrees, by Henry’s Charter, “no new incorporation is bestowed; the churches, the barons, the citizens retain their ancient customs”; (3) the really great concession made by Henry; and (4) the continuance of the form, if not the reality, of the Folkmote, we must acknowledge that the independence of the City was relatively great. And we must remember, further, that the Sheriff, or the Portreeve, was not the Mayor, nor was he the Justiciar; he was the financial officer of the King to look after the firma, and the taxes, fines, etc. The various jurisdictions and lordships had their own Courts; the City was not a corporate body; it had no head, unless it was the chief of that shadowy association, the Guild Merchant; it had no commune, and it had no Mayor.

(2) Henry gave them the right to appoint their own Justiciar.

Under the Saxon kings, criminal cases were tried in the Courts held by the Sheriff in his hundred, or the lord over his demesne. There were thus a very great number of Courts, the fines and forfeitures of which went to the owner of the soc or estate. William the Conqueror secured to himself the proceeds of these trials, together with the revenues arising from the new feudal tenures, by establishing the aula regis, the King’s Court, with the Chief Justiciar who sat in it. The aula regis went with the King wherever he went. Before long, persons were appointed to be itinerant justices, so that the aula regis included and suspended all older Courts. These new and uncertain jurisdictions were extremely unpopular. If, however, a city could obtain the privilege of electing its own Justiciar for its own cases, there would be some security of obtaining justice without delays—the Justiciar holding his office on good behaviour only; also that the ancient laws and customs would be observed; that there would be no temptation to impose arbitrary and grievous fines; that the numerous extortions connected with the new feudal tenure, possible where the royal revenues largely depended upon the amounts so raised, might in some measure be checked.

The office of Justiciar of London presents many difficulties, partly because there is no evidence, with a few exceptions, of the existence of such an officer. The office, Round contends (Geoffrey de Mandeville, p. 373), “represents a middle term, a transitional stage, between the essentially local shirereeve and the central ‘justice’ of the King’s Court.” He shows that—

“The office sprang from ‘the differentiation of the sheriff and the justice,’ and represented, as it were, the localisation of the central judicial element. That is to say, the justitiarius for Essex, or Herts, or London and Middlesex, was a purely local officer, and yet exercised, within the limits of his bailiwick, all the authority of the king’s justice. So transient was this state of things that scarcely a trace of it remains. Yet Richard de Luci may have held the post, as we saw, for the county of Essex, and there is evidence that Norfolk had a justice of its own in the person of Ralf Passelewe. Now, in the case of London, the office was created by the Charter of Henry I., a charter which was granted (as I contend) towards the end of his reign, and which expired with the accession of Henry II. It is, therefore, in Stephen’s reign that we should expect to find it [the office of justiciar] still in existence; and it is precisely in that reign that we find the office eo nomine twice granted to the Earl of Essex, and twice mentioned as held by Gervase, otherwise Gervase of Cornhill.”

We find a good deal more.

In the second year of Stephen, the King was called upon to decide between the Priory of the Holy Trinity and the Constable of the Tower concerning certain lands on East Smithfield. Among those present in Court was one Andrew Buchuinte—“Bucca uncta”—an Italian by origin, with many other burgesses of London. The King called upon Andrew to speak in the name of the citizens as their Justiciar. This same Andrew is found as a witness at the investiture of the Priory with the Cnihten gild’s soke in 1125, and again as a witness in the agreement between Ramsey Abbey and Holy Trinity, between 1125 and 1130. During the existence of the office of Justiciar, the King addressed him by name, followed by the Sheriff and the citizens.

In 1339, Andrew had ceased to be Justiciar. He was succeeded by Osbert Octodenarius—“Huit deniers”—whom Garnier calls

This Osbert was Thomas À Becket’s kinsman and first employer.

In 1141 the Empress addresses a writ to Osbert Octodenarius, as the Justiciar, according to Round’s conclusion, his name being followed by that of the Sheriff.

Eleven years before this, in 1130, the name of Gervase appears as Justiciar; it is in the very year of Henry’s Charter. Round connects this Gervase with Gervase of Cornhill without any reasonable doubt.

Lastly, we find, as stated above, Geoffrey de Mandeville appointed Justiciar by Charter of the Empress. He calls himself “Comes Essex et Justiciarius LondoniÆ” in a document of 1142-43. It is therefore certain that this great Earl counted it among his chief honours to be the Justiciar of London. Considering the history of this lord, we may well understand the kind of justice which he would mete out to the unfortunate citizens.

(3) He granted that they should not plead without the City walls.

This gave the parties to a civil case the same kind of protection as the preceding clause gave to defendants in a criminal case. The aula regis travelled with the King. Plaintiff, defendant, and witnesses had to travel about with the King also, until they could get their case heard. It was a grievance exactly like that of the present day, when more cases are set down for the day than can possibly be heard, and plaintiff, defendant, and witnesses, and solicitors have to attend, day after day, until their case comes on; those who come up from the country have to live in hotels at great cost; those who live in London have to neglect their business at great loss. It is strange that we should now be submitting to a system quite as iniquitous and, one would say, as intolerable, as that from which London was relieved early in the second quarter of the twelfth century.

(4) The citizens were to be “free from Scot and Lot and Danegeld and all Murder.”

Scot and Lot must be taken together as meaning the levy of taxes by any kind of authority for public purposes. Every citizen had, for civic purposes, to pay his Scot and Lot, i.e. his rates, according to his means. Danegeld was a tax of so much for every hide of land (a hide being probably one hundred acres). It was originally imposed for the purpose of resisting, expelling, or buying off the Danes. It was abolished in the reign of Henry the Second. In any case of murder the hundred in which the murder took place had to pay a fine. This, in a populous city, where violence was rife and murders were frequent, might become a burden of a very oppressive kind. Exemption, therefore, was a privilege of some importance.

(5) None of the citizens should be called upon to wage battle.

When we consider that the only justification of ordeal by battle was the theory that the Lord Himself would protect the right, we ask whether the Age of Faith had already passed away. It had not, but here and there were glimmerings of change. According to G. Norton, no man was ever compelled to fight in order to prove his innocence.

“If any man charged another with treason, murder, felony, or other capital offence, he was said to appeal him, and was termed an appellant; and the defendant, or party charged, was at liberty either to put himself upon his country for trial, or to defend himself by his body. If he chose the latter, the appellant was bound to meet him on an appointed day in marshalled lists, and the parties fought armed with sticks shod with horn. The party vanquished was adjudged to death, either as a false accuser or as guilty of the charge. If the defendant could maintain his ground until the stars appeared, the appellant was deemed vanquished; if the defendant called for quarter, or was slain, judgment of death was equally passed upon him.”—Historical Account of London, p. 360.

(6) A man might be allowed to “purge himself by oath.”

By this ancient method the accused appeared in Court accompanied by his friends, compurgators. He swore that he was innocent. His compurgators swore that they believed in his innocence. The number of compurgators was generally twelve.

(7) The citizens were allowed to refuse lodging to the King’s household.

This permission removed a fruitful cause of quarrel. It was intolerable that any man-at-arms might enter any house and demand lodging and entertainment in the King’s name. With the Tower in the east of London, and Baynard’s Castle in the west, and the King’s house a mile or so outside the City, there seems no reason why the King should have claimed this right.

(8) The citizens were to be free of toll, passage, and lestage.

Many people can remember the turnpike toll, the nuisance it was, and the trouble it gave; how, near great cities, roads were found out by which the toll could be evaded. Let them suppose a time when the turnpike toll was multiplied a hundredfold. There were tolls for markets, tolls of passage—fords and ferries, of lestage, a toll of so much for every last of leather exported, tolls of stallage, tolls of murage, tolls of wharfage, tolls of cranage, tolls through and tolls traverse (i.e. tolls for repair of road or street). Then imagine the relief of the London merchant travelling with his wares and his long train of loaded pack-horses from one market-town to another, and from fair to fair, when he was told that henceforth he should travel free and pay no toll. Why did the King grant this privilege, one of the largest and most beneficent in this Charter? Surely in wise recognition of the fact that the more free and unfettered trade was made, the more it would develop and increase, and make his kingdom rich and strong.

(9) No man was to be assessed beyond his means.

The penalty of a fine by way of punishment is at once deterrent and inconvenient. It does not degrade, like flogging; it does not make a man useless and costly, like imprisonment; it does not inflict public disgrace, like the pillory. At the same time, in the hands of a harsh magistrate, it may ruin a man to be fined above his power to pay. The strong feeling on the subject shown in this clause was also illustrated later on, when in Magna Charta it was enacted that a man might be assessed, but “so as not to deprive him of his land, or of his stock in husbandry or in trade.” To this day the ancient feeling against heavy fines survives in the unwillingness always shown by juries to award heavy damages.

(10) There should be no miskennings in the Courts, and the hustings should be held every Monday.

What were miskennings? Nobody knows. It is interpreted to mean that a man shall not unjustly prosecute another in any of the City Courts by deserting his first plea and substituting another. According to Norton,25 it is the same as miscounting, and it means false pleading or mispleading. He goes on to show that the Normans brought with them considerable proficiency in jurisprudence, and a “mischievous dexterity in special pleading, by which the rights of suitors were often made to depend on the ingenuity of the countors (lawyers), rather than on the real merits of the case.”

I have considered this Charter clause by clause, because in it Henry seems to have given the citizens everything that they could ask or obtain by purchase. London was left, save in one respect, absolutely free. In fact, the citizens never did ask for more. The Charter was framed in order to allow the City to get rich without let or hindrance. One right the King reserved: that of taking their money for himself; and this right, there can be no doubt, was the reason why he surrendered all the rest; the reason why London was encouraged to grow so wealthy and so strong. It was a right, however, which was not felt to be a grievance. It was the very essence of things that in a mediÆval kingdom the King should be free to tax his subjects. It will be observed that the rights conferred by the Charter of William are not recited here. Probably they were recognised as a matter of common usage, so that it was no longer necessary to repeat them.

CHAPTER VI
STEPHEN

The election of Stephen by London is a fact the full importance of which, in the history of the City, was first brought out by the late J. R. Green. This importance signified, in fact, a great deal more than the election of a king by the City of London, a thing by no means new in the history of the City. First, we know that many Normans flocked over to London after the Conquest. Normans there were before that event, but their numbers rapidly increased in consequence. By this time we see that the immigrants no longer considered themselves Normans only, but Londoners as well. William’s Charter especially recognises and provides for this fusion when he “greets all the burgesses in London, Frenchmen and Englishmen, friendly.” The Normans were his subjects as well as the English: they were not, therefore, aliens in his English cities. For instance, Gilbert Becket, father of the Archbishop, was by birth a burgher of Rouen, and his wife was the daughter of a burgher of Caen. But his son Thomas was always an Englishman. The Normans in London, therefore, took their part without question in the election of a king of England. And they elected Stephen rather than Henry, the son of the Empress, because Henry was also the son of Geoffrey Plantagenet, and the hatred of Norman for Angevin was greater even than the hatred of Welshman for Englishman. It survived the immigration of the Norman into England; it found expression when King Henry died, and when his stepson Geoffrey of Anjou seemed likely to claim the throne of England, as he claimed the duchy of Normandy, in right of his wife. In Normandy, however, the people rose as one man, and chased him out of the dukedom. In London, the City seems to have assumed the power of electing the King of England, as in the case of Henry, and without consulting bishop, abbot, or noble, did elect Stephen, the nephew of King Henry, and crowned him in Westminster. There were, in fact, two forces working for Stephen. The first was this said Norman jealousy of Anjou. The second was perhaps stronger. The religious revival of which we spoke as belonging to the reign of Henry, was spreading over the whole of western Europe. Green calls it the first of the great religious movements which England was to experience. He seems to forget, however, that there was a much earlier religious movement, which filled the monasteries and weakened the country, by draining it of fighting-men, in the eighth century.

“Everywhere in town and country men banded themselves together for prayer, hermits flocked to the woods, noble and churl welcomed the austere Cistercians as they spread over the moors and forests of the North. A new spirit of enthusiastic devotion woke the slumber of the older orders, and penetrated alike to the home of the noble Walter d’Espec at Rievaulx, or of the trader Gilbert Becket in Cheapside. It is easy to be blinded in revolutionary times, such as those of Stephen, by the superficial aspects of the day; but, amidst the wars of the Succession, and the clash of arms, the real thought of England was busy with deeper things. We see the force of the movement in the new class of ecclesiastics that it forces on the stage. The worldliness that had been no scandal in Roger of Salisbury becomes a scandal in Henry of Winchester. The new men, Thurstan, and Ailred, and Theobald, and John of Salisbury—even Thomas himself—derive whatever weight they possess from sheer holiness of life or aim.”—Historical Studies.

The outward sign of this movement was the foundation of many religious houses, and the building of many churches. The number and importance of the foundations created in or about London, not taking into account those founded in the country, within a space of about twenty years, indicate in themselves a widespread, deep-rooted, religious feeling. It was an age of fervent faith; Stephen himself, rough soldier that he was, felt its influence.

Now this religious fervour was openly scorned and scoffed at and derided by the Angevins. Contempt for religion was hereditary with them. From father to son they gloried in deriding holy things. In the words of Green: “A lurid grandeur of evil, a cynical defiance of religious opinion, hung alike round Fulc Nerra, or Fulc Rechin, or Geoffrey Plantagenet. The murder of a priest by Henry Fitz-Empress, the brutal sarcasms of Richard, the embassy of John to the Moslems of Spain, were but the continuance of a series of outrages on the religious feelings of the age which had begun long ere the lords of Anjou became Kings of England.”

To the reasons why the City had taken upon itself to elect and to crown Stephen, viz. the Norman hatred of Anjou, and resentment against the man of no religion, must be added two more: the conviction that a strong armed man, and not a woman, was wanted for the country; and a general restlessness which, the moment the old king was dead, broke out everywhere in acts of lawlessness and robbery.

It was not yet a time when peace was possible, save at intervals; the barons and their following must needs be fighting, if not with the common enemy, then with each other. The burghers of London, as well as the barons, felt frequent attacks of those inward prickings which caused the fingers to close round the hilt and to draw the sword. Historians have not, perhaps, attached enough importance to the mediÆval—is it only mediÆval?—yearning for a fight. There is nothing said about it in any of the Chronicles, yet one recognises its recurrence. One feels it in the air. Only a strong king could keep down the fighting spirit, or make it find satisfaction and outlet in local brawls.

Never in this country, before or after, was there such an opportunity for gratifying this passion to be up and cutting throats. Historians, who were ecclesiastics, and therefore able to feel for and speak of the sufferings of the people, write of the horrors of war. The fighting-men themselves felt none of the horrors. Though the country-people starved, the men of war were well fed; though merchants were robbed and murdered, the men of war were not hanged for the crime; to die on the battlefield, even to die lingering with horrible wounds, had no terrors for these soldiers; nay, this kind of death seemed to them a far nobler lot than to die in a peaceful bed like a burgher. Dead bodies lay in heaps where there had been a village—dead bodies of men, women, and children, which corrupted the air. The shrieks of tortured men rang from the castles, and the despairing cries of outraged maidens from the farmhouse. The towns were laid in ruins, the cultivated lands were laid desolate, the country was deserted by the people, yet these things were not horrors to the men of war, they were daily sights. For nearly twenty years the battlefield was the universal death-bed of the Englishman; and since harvests were burned, cattle destroyed, rustics murdered, priests and merchants robbed, one wonders how, at the end of it, any one at all was left alive in England. As for the City of London, it paid dearly for the choice of a king; and in the long run it had to see the other side, the House of Anjou, come to reign over its people.

Henry died on the 1st of December 1135. Twenty-four days afterwards, Stephen received the crown from the hands of the Archbishop. During the interval the country had become, suddenly, a seething mass of anarchy and violence. A strong hand had held it down for more than thirty years—a period, one would think, long enough for a spirit of obedience to law and order to grow up in men’s minds. Not yet: the only obedience was that due to fear; the only respect for law was that inspired by the hardest and most inflexible of kings. The words used by the author of the Gesta Stephani were doubtless much exaggerated, but they point to an outbreak of lawlessness which was certainly made possible by the removal of Henry’s mailed hand.

“Seized with a new fury, they began to run riot against each other; and the more a man injured the innocent, the higher he thought of himself. The sanctions of the law, which form the restraint of a rude population, were totally disregarded and set at naught; and men, giving the reins to all iniquity, plunged without hesitation into whatever crimes their inclinations prompted.... The people also turned to plundering each other without mercy, contriving schemes of craft and bloodshed against their neighbours; as it was said by the prophet, ‘Man rose up without mercy against man, and every one was set against his neighbour.’ For whatever the evil passions suggested in peaceable times, now that the opportunity of vengeance presented itself, was quickly executed. Secret grudgings burst forth, and dissembled malice was brought to light and openly avowed.” (Henry of Huntingdon.)

Then Stephen, crossing over from Ouissant (Ushant) with a fair wind, landed at Dover, and made haste to march to London, where he counted upon finding friends. His succession, indeed, was no new thing suddenly proposed; there had been grave discussions, prompted by the considerations above detailed, as to adopting Stephen as the successor. In addition to his reputation as a soldier, Stephen possessed the charm of personal attraction and generosity.

The City, however, as in the case of William the Conqueror and his son Henry, elected Stephen king after a solemn Covenant that, “So long as he lived, the citizens should aid him by their wealth and support him by their arms, and that he should bend all his energies to the pacification of the kingdom.”

Round (see below) discusses this covenant and the assertion in the Gesta that the Londoners claimed the right of electing the king. He compares the oath taken by king or overlord at certain towns in France, such as Bazas in Aquitaine, Issigeac in the Perigord, Bourg sur Mer in Gascony, and Bayonne. At all these places the oath was practically in the same form: the citizens swore obedience and fidelity to the king, while the king in return swore to be a good lord over them, to respect and preserve their customs, and to guard them from all injury. This oath was, in fact, William the Conqueror’s Charter. It was probably neither more nor less than this which the citizens of London exacted from Stephen. Six years later it was the same oath which they exacted from the Empress. Now, as the French towns referred to did not speak or act in the name of the whole kingdom or the province, may not the action of London in 1135 have been, not so much to assert their right to elect the king, as their resolution to make their recognition of a successor to the throne, when the succession was disputed, the subject of a separate negotiation?

At the first Easter after his coronation, Stephen held his Court at Westminster, where he assembled a National Council, to which were bidden the Bishops and Abbots and the Barons, “cum primis populi.” The Easter celebrations had been gloomy of late years, owing to the sadness which weighed down Henry after the death of his son. This function revived the memory of former splendours—“qu nunquam fuerat splendidior vestibus.” That this Council was attended by the greatest barons of the realm, is proved by the fact that two Charters there granted are witnessed, one by fifty-five, and the other by thirty-six men, including thirty-four noblemen of the highest rank.

Geoffrey de Mandeville by Mr. J. H. Round is much more than a biography: it is a scholarly—a profound—inquiry into the history of England, and especially London, under King Stephen.

Geoffrey de Mandeville was the son of William de Mandeville, who was Constable of the Tower in 1101; and the grandson of Geoffrey de Mandeville, who appears to have come from the village of Mandeville near TreviÈres in the Bessin, the name being Latinised into “De Magna villÂ.”

The elder Geoffrey founded a Benedictine priory at Hurley.

The younger Geoffrey appears at Stephen’s Court in 1136 as a witness to certain deeds. He was created Earl of Essex in 1140: the date being fixed by Round.

But the Empress was already in England: in 1141 (February 2) her great victory at Lincoln placed her for the time in command of the situation, and made Stephen a prisoner. She repaired to Winchester, where (March 2, 1141) she was elected “Domina Angliae.” She was received by the Legate, the clergy, and the people, the monks and nuns of the religious houses. She also took over the castle, with the crown and the royal treasures.

What follows is a remarkable illustration of the power of London. It is thus described by Sharpe (London and the Kingdom, vol. i. p. 48):—

“But there was another element to be considered before Matilda’s new title could be assured. What would the Londoners, who had taken the initiative in setting Stephen on the throne, and still owed to him their allegiance, say to it? The Legate had foreseen the difficulty that might arise if the citizens, whom he described as very princes of the realm by reason of the greatness of their City (qui sunt quasi optimates pro magnitudine civitatis in AngliÂ), could not be won over. He had therefore sent a special safe conduct for their attendance, so he informed the meeting after the applause which followed his speech had died away, and he expected them to arrive on the following day. If they pleased they would adjourn till then. The next day (April 9) the Londoners arrived, as the Legate had foretold, and were ushered before the Council. They had been sent, they said, by the so-called ‘commune’ of London; and their purpose was not to enter into debate, but only to beg for the release of their lord the King. This statement was supported by all the barons then present who had entered the commune of the City, and met with the approval of the archbishop and all the clergy in attendance. Their solicitations, however, proved of no avail. The Legate replied with the same arguments he had used the day before, adding that it ill became the Londoners, who were regarded as nobles (quasi proceres) in the land, to foster those who had basely deserted their King on the field of battle, and who only curried favour with the citizens in order to fleece them of their money. Here an interruption took place. A messenger presented to the Legate a paper from Stephen’s Queen to read to the Council. Henry took the paper, and after scanning its contents, refused to communicate them to the meeting. The messenger, however, not to be thus foiled, himself made known the contents of the paper. These were, in effect, an exhortation by the Queen to the clergy, and more especially to the Legate himself, to restore Stephen to liberty. The Legate, however, returned the same answer as before, and the meeting broke up, the Londoners promising to communicate the decision of the Council to their brethren at home, and to do their best to obtain their support.”

The negotiations dragged on. There are clear indications of tumults and dissensions in the City: Geoffrey de Mandeville strengthened the Tower; Aubrey de Vere, his father-in-law, formerly Sheriff and Royal Chamberlain to Henry I., was slain in the streets; the Norman party were not likely to yield without a struggle. However, in June 1141, a deputation of citizens was sent to the Empress, who waited for them at St. Albans. She made one promise, presumably the same made by William her grandfather, by Henry her father, and by Stephen, that she would respect the rights and privileges of the City; she was then formally received by the notables, who rode out to meet her, according to custom, at Knightsbridge.

“Having now obtained26 the submission of the greatest part of the kingdom, taken hostages and received homage, and being, as I have just said, elated to the highest pitch of arrogance, she came with vast military display to London, at the humble request of the citizens. They fancied that they had now arrived at happy days, when peace and tranquillity would prevail.... She, however, sent for some of the more wealthy, and demanded of them, not with gentle courtesy, but in an imperious tone, an immense sum of money. Upon this they made complaints that their former wealth had been diminished by the troubled state of the kingdom, that they had liberally contributed to the relief of the indigent against the severe famine which was impending, and that they had subsidised the King to their last farthing: they therefore humbly implored her clemency that in pity for their losses and distresses she would show some moderation in levying money from them.... When the citizens had addressed her in this manner, she, without any of the gentleness of her sex, broke out into insufferable rage, while she replied to them with a stern eye and frowning brow, ‘that the Londoners had often paid large sums to the King; that they had opened their purse-strings wide to strengthen him and weaken her; that they had been long in confederacy with her enemies for her injury; and that they had no claim to be spared, and to have the smallest part of the fine remitted.’ On hearing this, the citizens departed to their homes, sorrowful and unsatisfied.”

The Empress came to London because she desired above all things to be crowned at Westminster. This was impossible, or useless, without the previous submission of London, and she did not gain her desire. It is readily understood that there were malcontents enough in the City. Her imperious bearing increased the number. Moreover, at this juncture, Stephen’s Queen, Maud, arrived at Southwark with a large army and began, not only to burn and to ravage the cultivated parts of south London, but sent her troops across the river to ravage the north bank. The Empress felt that she was safe within the walls. But suddenly, at the hour of dinner, the great bell of St. Paul’s rang out, and the citizens, obedient to the call, clutched their arms and rushed to Paul’s Cross. The Empress was not in the Tower, but in a house or palace near Ludgate. With her followers she had just time to gallop through the gate and escape: her barons deserted her, each making for his own estates; and the London mob pillaged everything they could find in the deserted quarters. Then they threw open the gates of London Bridge and admitted Stephen’s Queen; this done, they besieged the Tower, which was commanded by Geoffrey de Mandeville.

The Empress had stayed in London no more than three or four days. During this time, or perhaps before her entry into the City, she granted a Charter to Geoffrey de Mandeville, in which she recognised him as Earl of Essex—“concedo ut sit comes de Essex”—she also recognised him as hereditary Constable of the Tower, and gave him certain lands.

A Charter, or letter, from the Archbishop of Rouen to the citizens of London, quoted by Round, also belongs, it would seem, though he does not give the date, to this time:—

“Hugo D. G. Rothomagensis archiepiscopus senatoribus inclitis civibus honoratis et omnibus commune London concordie gratiam, salutem eternam. Deo et vobis agimus gratias pro vestra fidelitate stabili et certa domino nostro regi Stephano jugiter impensa. Inde per regiones notae vestra nobilitas virtus et potestas.”

The Normans of Normandy, then, were watching the struggle of Norman v. Angevin in England with the greatest anxiety. The situation was changed; Stephen’s Queen was in London: but the earl was still in the Tower. It was necessary to gain him over. For this purpose she bribed him with terms which were good enough to detach him from the side of the Empress. This Charter is lost, but it is referred to by Stephen six months later as “Carta ReginÆ.” There remains only one “Carta ReginÆ,” which is, however, important to us because it names Gervase as the Justiciar of London (see p. 285).

Geoffrey meanwhile proved his newly-bought adherence to the King by seizing the Bishop of London in his palace at Fulham, and holding him as a prisoner. A few weeks later, Geoffrey, with a large contingent of a thousand Londoners, fully armed, was assisting at the rout of Winchester.

On the 1st of November the King was exchanged for the Earl of Gloucester. The importance of the event, as it was regarded by the City of London, is curiously proved by the date of a private London deed (Round, G. de M., p. 136): “Anno MCXLI., Id est in exitu regis Stephani de captione Roberti filii regis Henrici.”

At Christmas 1141 the King was crowned a second time, just as, fifty years later, after his captivity, Richard was crowned a second time. Round ascribes Stephen’s second Charter to Geoffrey to the same date. This Charter gave Geoffrey even better terms than he had received from the Empress. He was confirmed as Earl of Essex and as Constable of the Tower: he was made Justiciar and Sheriff of London and Middlesex: and he was confirmed as Justiciar and Sheriff of the counties of Essex and Hertford. The Charter acknowledges that Geoffrey was Constable of the Tower by inheritance.

In a few months, Stephen being dead, and his troops dispersed, Geoffrey went over again to the side of the Empress, and once more was rewarded by a Charter, the full meaning of which will be found in Round. It was the last of his many bargains. Matilda’s cause was lost with the fall of Oxford (December 1142).

It would seem that the first care of Stephen was to conciliate the Church, which had grievous cause for complaint. In the words of the Gesta Stephani: “because there was nothing left anywhere whole and undamaged, they had recourse to the possessions of the monasteries, or the neighbouring municipalities, or any others which they could send forth troops enough to infest. At one time they loaded their victims with false accusations and virulent abuse; at another they ground them down with vexatious claims and extortions; some they stripped of their property, either by open robbery or secret contrivance, and others they reduced to complete subjection in the most shameless manner. If any one of the reverend monks, or of the secular clergy, came to complain of the exactions laid on Church property, he was met with abuse, and abruptly silenced with outrageous threats; the servants who attended him on his journey were often severely scourged before his face, and he himself, whatever his rank and order might be, was shamefully stripped of his effects, and even his garments, and driven away or left helpless, from the severe beating to which he was subjected. These unhappy spectacles, these lamentable tragedies, as they were common throughout England, could not escape the observation of the Bishops.”

A Council was held in London as soon as the King’s cause seemed secure. It was there decreed that “any one who violated a church or churchyard, or laid violent hands on a clerk or other religious person, should be incapable of receiving absolution except from the Pope himself. It was also decreed that ploughs in the fields, and the rustics who worked at them, should be sacred, just as much as if they were in a churchyard. They also excommunicated with lighted candles all who should contravene this decree, and so the rapacity of these human kites was a little checked.” (Roger of Wendover.)

It is significant, however, that in the Gesta Stephani some of the Bishops—“not all of them, but several”—assumed arms, rode on war-horses, received their share of the booty, and imprisoned or tortured soldiers and men of wealth who fell into their hands, wherever they could.

In September 1148, after this Council, Stephen held a Court at St. Albans. Among the nobles who attended was the great earl, Geoffrey de Mandeville, a man, says Henry of Huntingdon, more regarded than the King himself. His enemies, however, calling on the King to remember his past treacheries, easily persuaded him that new treacheries were in contemplation. Perhaps the King understood that here was a subject too powerful, one who, like the Earl of Warwick later, was veritably a king-maker, and was readily convinced that the wisest thing would be to take a strong step and arrest him. This, in fact, he did.

Geoffrey was conveyed to London and confined in his own Tower, whither a message was brought him that he must either surrender all his castles to the King, or be hanged. He chose the former. So far as London is concerned he vanishes at this point. It is not, however, without interest to note that on his release he broke into open revolt. Like Hereward, he betook himself to the fens and the country adjacent. He seized upon Ramsey Abbey; he turned out the monks, and converted the House into a fortified post; he stabled his horses in the cloisters; he gave its manors to his followers; he ravaged the country in all directions. He was joined by large numbers of the mercenaries then in the country. He occupied a formidable position protected by the fens; he held the castle of Ely; he held strong places at Fordham, Benwick, and Wood Walton. He sacked and burned Cambridge and St. Ives, robbing even the churches of their plate and treasures: all the horrors of Stephen’s long civil wars were doubled in the ferocious career of this wild beast; the country was wasted; there was not even a plough left; no man tilled the land; every lord had his castle; every castle was a robber’s nest.

“Some, for whom their country had lost its charms, chose rather to make their home in foreign lands; others drew to the churches for protection, and constructing mean hovels in their precincts, passed their days in fear and trouble. Food being scarce, for there was a dreadful famine throughout England, some of the people disgustingly devoured the flesh of dogs and horses; others appeased their insatiable hunger with the garbage of uncooked herbs and roots; many, in all parts, sunk under the severity of the famine and died in heaps; others with their whole families went sorrowfully into voluntary banishment and disappeared. Then were seen famous cities deserted and depopulated by the death of the inhabitants of every age and sex, and fields white for the harvest, for it was near the season of autumn, but none to gather it, all having been struck down by the famine. Thus the whole aspect of England presented a scene of calamity and sorrow, misery and oppression. It tended to increase the evil, that a crowd of fierce strangers who had flocked to England in bands to take service in the wars, and who were devoid of all bowels of mercy and feelings of humanity, were scattered among the people thus suffering.”—Gesta Stephani.

Miracles were observed testifying to the wrath of God. The walls of Ramsey Abbey sweated blood. Men said that Christ and His saints slept. Yet, for their comfort, it was reported that the Lord was still watchful, because, when Geoffrey lay down to rest in the shade, behold! the grass withered away beneath him.

The end came. Happily before long Geoffrey was wounded fighting on the land of the Abbey which he had robbed; he treated his wound lightly; he rode off through Fordham to Mildenhall, and there he lay down and died. He had been excommunicated: he died without absolution; there was no priest among his wild soldiery, and men said openly that no one but the Pope could absolve so great a sinner. His body, enclosed in a leaden coffin, was brought to London by some Templars: they carried it to their orchard in the old Temple (at the north-east corner of Chancery Lane) and there hung it up, so that it should not pollute the ground. And the citizens of London came out to gibe at their dead foe. After twenty years Pope Alexander III. granted absolution, and the body of the great traitor at last found rest. It may be remarked, as regards the lasting hatred of the Londoners, that their enemy, whose unburied body they thus insulted, was only justiciar over them for two years or so. Great must have been his tyranny, many his iniquities, for his memory to stink for more than twenty years.

We know very little of the condition of London at this time: its trade, both export and import, must have been greatly damaged; when the Empress made her demands for money, the citizens had to assure her of their poverty and inability to comply with them; the fire of 1136, which destroyed nearly the whole City, must have involved thousands in ruin; there were factions and parties within the walls. At the same time the City possessed men and arms. London, we have seen, could send out a splendid regiment of a thousand men: not ragamuffins in leathern doublets and armed with pikes, but men in full armour completely equipped.

As regards the power of Geoffrey, it is certain that the free, proud, and independent City, the maker of kings, the possessor of charters which secured all that freemen could desire, must have been deeply humiliated at its new position of dependence upon the caprice of a soldier without honour and without loyalty: but it was only temporary. And yet we find that the City was represented at the Convention of Winchester. It is therefore certain that though London might be stripped of its charters, it had to be reckoned with. At any moment the citizens might close their gates, and then, even if the enemy garrisoned the Tower, it was doubtful whether the whole force that Matilda could command could compel the opening of their gates.

It will be shown immediately that part of Henry’s Charter, that of the possession, at least, of a City justiciar, remained in force during Stephen’s reign. It cannot be proved that the other part of the Charter, which conferred upon the City the right of electing the justiciar and the sheriffs, was also observed. Maitland says that in the year 1139 the citizens bought the right of electing their sheriffs for the sum of one hundred marks of silver. He gives no authority for the statement, of which I find no mention in Stow, Holinshed, Round or Sharpe. It would seem possible in this time of general confusion and continual war for the right to be claimed and exercised without question. It would also seem possible, for exactly the same cause, that the King would sell the right, year by year, or for the whole of his reign.

There is an episode passed over by historians which seems singularly out of place in a time of continual civil war. It is strange that in the year 1147, when all men’s minds in London were presumably watching the uncertain way of war, there should be found citizens who could neglect the anxieties of the time and go off crusading. This, however, actually happened. A small army—say, rather, a reinforcement, of Crusaders, consisting of Englishmen, Germans, and Flemings, sailed in company, bound for Palestine. They were led by Count Arnold of Aerschot, Christian Ghestell, Andrew of London, Vernon of Dover, and Henry Glenville. They put in at Lisbon, and instead of fighting the Saracens in Palestine, joined the Portuguese and fought the Moors at Lisbon. By their aid the city was taken, lost, and retaken. Roger de Hoveden thus comments on the expedition:—

“In the meantime a naval force, headed by no influential men, and relying upon no mighty chieftain, but only on Almighty God, inasmuch as it had set out in a humble spirit, earned the favour of God and manifested great prowess. For, though but few in number, by arms they obtained possession of a famous city of Spain, Lisbon by name, and another, called Almeida, together with the parts adjacent. How true is it that God opposes the proud, but to the humble shows grace! For the army of the king of the Franks and of the emperor was larger and better equipped than the former one, which had gained possession of Jerusalem: and yet they were crushed by a very few, and routed and demolished like webs of spiders: whereas these other poor people, whom I have just mentioned, no multitude could resist, but the greater the numbers that made head against them, the more helpless were they rendered. The greatest part of them had come from England.”

At last, after nineteen years of fighting, peace was made. Stephen was to reign as long as he lived: he was then to be succeeded by Henry. Henry of Huntingdon does justice to the general rejoicing that followed:—

“What boundless joy, what a day of rejoicing, when the king himself led the illustrious young prince through the streets of Winchester, with a splendid procession of bishops and nobles, and amidst the acclamations of the thronging people: for the king received him as his son by adoption, and acknowledged him heir to the crown. From thence he accompanied the king to London, where he was received with no less joy by the people assembled in countless numbers, and by brilliant processions, as was fitting for so great a prince. Thus, through God’s mercy, after a night of misery, peace dawned on the ruined realm of England.”

CHAPTER VII
FITZSTEPHEN THE CHRONICLER

To the reign of Henry the Second belongs the only description of London in the twelfth century that we possess. It is, of course, that of FitzStephen. I transcribe it in full; and as this description belongs to the Norman rather than the later Plantagenet period, to the twelfth rather than the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, I place it in the Book of Norman London.