Very informative in an easily accessible writing style. Manages to make the minutiae of court church politics interesting. I’m not sure I agree with all of his opinions (IE: Rufus was cruel and disliked, Curthose was incompetent, Stephen of Blois was incompetent etc.) It’s clear Hollister thinks highly of King Henry, but his continual throwaway comments about the unsuitability of his adversaries leads me to think less of Henry, rather than more highly. (Also this is my first attempt at importing my Kindle highlights and I have too many "characters.")
The great victim of the treaty was of course Henry. It was clearly with the aim of seizing Henry's countship that Curthose obtained Rufus' pledge to help restore ducal power throughout Normandy except in lands ceded to the king. In recompense for this service Rufus was to receive, as a kind of commission, Henry's town of Cherbourg and abbey of Mont-Saint-Michel. As a final touch, the treaty disinherited Henry so long as either of his brothers should live.
Perhaps surprisingly, the most powerful of all Henry's friends was William Rufus, whom Robert of Torigny describes as giving his “consent” to Henry's reestablishing himself in western Normandy. Rufus' break with Robert Curthose at the 1091 Christmas court, together with the growth of Henry's strength at Domfront, activated a diplomatic revolution in which Rufus now aligned himself with Henry against Curthose. Since Henry was already
waging war against the duke and Rufus was determined once again to conquer all of Normandy, the interests of the two younger brothers coalesced. To Rufus, the count of the Cotentin could be an even more valuable client than the count of Eu. We know that by early 1095 Rufus was providing Henry with generous financial backing for his campaign against Curthose, and it is possible that some such backing had been flowing into Domfront at an earlier date as an accompaniment to the king's “consent.”270 Thenceforth, for the remainder of William Rufus' life he and his younger brother remained staunch allies.
In the absence of firm ducal authority the peace of Normandy was shattered by feuds and private warfare, and Curthose, “distressed at the sight of such misery and fearing still worse to come since almost everyone had abandoned him, resolved on the advice of certain men of religion to
relinquish the governance of the duchy to his brother” and take up the Cross.307 Needing money as usual, Curthose arranged, through the intervention of the papal envoy Jarento abbot of Saint-Bénigne, Dijon, to make peace with Rufus and to grant him Normandy in pawn for ten thousand marks of silver.
Henry's claim on the kingship of England cannot be regarded as a “usurpation.” The Conqueror's eldest son, Robert Curthose, had already been passed over once for the royal succession, at his father's command. It has been alleged that the succession had been decided by a formal agreement between Curthose and Rufus in 1091, but this is incorrect. In the words of the AngloSaxon chronicler, the agreement of 1091 “lasted only a little while”; Curthose repudiated it at Christmas 1093 and it is not known to have been renewed.12 Henry justified his claim to the throne, in part, by the theory of “porphyrogeniture,” the right of having been the only one of the Conqueror's sons to have been born of a reigning king and queen—born “in the purple.”
"I restore to you,” Henry wrote, “the law of King Edward.” This was doubtless the fundamental principle underlying the coronation charter, just as the idea of continuity with the Anglo-Saxon royal line and the Anglo-Saxon past was a major theme of Henry's reign. There was of course, literally speaking, no “law of King Edward.” Unlike a number of his Old English predecessors, Edward the Confessor issued no dooms. But as is made clear in legal treatises written during Henry I's reign—the Quadripartitus and the Leges Henrici Primi—the “law of King Edward” was taken to summarize the entire Anglo-Saxon past; it constituted the totality of earlier Anglo-Saxon laws that remained in effect during Edward's reign.
The chief motivation for the marriage, however, was Matilda's Anglo-Saxon lineage. It could be argued that Henry was deliberately seeking to legitimize his dynasty by choosing a wife whose offspring would carry the blood of the Old English royal line, and such an argument has much to commend it. Henry may not, however, have been quite so calculating. It may simply have been natural for a king whose coronation charter placed such heavy emphasis on perpetuating the laws of Edward the Confessor to marry an Anglo-Saxon princess, joining Edward's lineage to his own. Henry's offspring would thus become members of the Anglo-Saxon royal line, and Henry himself would in some sense become an Anglo-Saxon king.
Curthose clearly had every intention of challenging Henry's rule of England, and he could count on the support of not only Robert of Bellême and William of Warenne but most of the other Anglo- Norman magnates as well. All were homage-bound to Curthose, and most of them would have preferred the loose, happy-go-lucky governance of the Conqueror's eldest son to the keenly intelligent, centralizing policies of Henry I and the Beaumonts.
to the threatened war, Henry and his entourage traversed the fifteen miles from Alton to Winchester, arriving by 31 July. There, on 2 August—the first anniversary of William Rufus' death—the treaty was solemnly ratified by the oaths of twelve leading men from each side.146 Traditionally known to historians as the “treaty of Alton,” it might more accurately be identified as the “treaty of Winchester.” But whatever one calls it, the agreement was a turning point in Henry's reign and a key to the long peace that afterward prevailed in England.
The distribution of bribes to win over potential Norman supporters was of course not a novel policy, but Henry—who distributed not only gold and silver but lands, heiresses, and bastard daughters as well—courted the Norman nobility with unprecedented finesse.
Moreover, Henry accompanied his enticements with a barrage of propaganda, the major theme of which was that he came to restore peace to strife-ridden Normandy. This theme was all the more effective because it was essentially true—as witnessed by an abundance of fleeing peasants, crops, laid waste, endemic lawlessness, refugee prelates such as Serlo and Ralph of Sées, and churches burned down or converted into fortresses (for example, Tournay near Sées and Saint- Pierre sur Dives). Orderic is clearly reflecting both royal propaganda and vexatious fact when he dwells on the anarchy that afflicted Normandy at this time. Henry, like Rufus before him, assumed the role of savior of the Normans and their Church from the pillaging of evil men permitted by Curthose's incompetence.134
It has been said that Henry made the greatest mistake of his career in not placing the child in strict confinement then and there. But the deadly threats to Henry's rule that would be advanced in Clito's behalf in later years by the king of France and the counts of Flanders and Anjou were not yet discernible.
Henry ill fit the eleventh-century Norman image of the all-conquering warrior. He disliked war, and having reunited his father's Anglo-Norman realm, he seems to have had no further territorial ambitions. … Peace he loved, and peace he kept, perhaps more effectively than any previous prince in the annals of Western Christendom. It is well known that during all but the first two years of his thirty- five-year rule of England the kingdom was at peace. It has been less well appreciated that after 1106 Henry was also remarkably successful in keeping the peace in Normandy, where twenty- seven of his twenty-nine years were virtually free of domestic turmoil.9 Notwithstanding successive international conspiracies in favor of William Clito, Normandy suffered warfare within its boundaries on only two occasions during Henry's reign.
Back at the time of his victory at Tinchebray in 1106, Henry had displayed an abundance of confidence. He released most of his captives and took pity on his three-year-old nephew William Clito by placing him under the protection of Helias of Saint-Saens, Curthose's devoted follower, whose chief castle was dangerously close to Normandy's north-eastern frontier. It would have been difficult for Henry to foresee in 1106 the great shifts in European political history that lay just ahead: the surge of French royal authority that commenced in 1108 or the parallel surge that followed Fulk V's succession to Anjou in the following year.
Indeed, several of the military and diplomatic confrontations between Henry and Louis during the seventeen years between 1111 and 1128 were affected dramatically by the strange coincidence that four successive counts of Flanders—Robert II, Baldwin VII, Charles the Good, and William Clito—suffered violent and premature deaths.
His territorial ambitions never extended beyond the restoration of his father's dominions; his prime goals were peace with his neighbors and the curbing of violence within the Anglo- Norman world. Through astute diplomacy, a precocious intelligence system, and an abundance of marriageable bastard daughters, he had quelled the threats of France and Anjou while shielding Normandy and its people from the horrors of warfare with its attendant scorched-earth tactics. But France and Anjou were only momentarily placated:
Henry now faced coordinated attacks from Louis VI (whose treaty of friendship proved short- lived), Fulk V of Anjou, and the young Baldwin VII count of Flanders (who is not reported to have settled with Henry in 1113). The three princes forged a coalition in behalf of William Clito, and their combined assaults against Normandy in 1118–1119, along with defections by some of his own Norman barons, constituted the most formidable military challenge that Henry was ever to encounter.
The expulsion of the Montgomerys had brought both Shropshire (from Robert of Bellême) and the earldom of Pembroke (from Arnulf of Montgomery) into the king's fold, and Henry proceeded to integrate both regions into his kingdomwide administrative system. Extensive areas of major Norman penetration in south Wales, much of which had been conquered and colonized under the first two Williams, now passed into the control of Henry or his greater and lesser barons.
He also sent envoys to the French royal court, offering a large sum of money in return for Louis' conceding Normandy to William Adelin and receiving William's “profession” (professio) for the duchy.21 Louis, who was by no means immune to the influence of silver,22 was on the point of agreeing to the proposal but was dissuaded by William II count of Nevers.23 Thus, instead of accepting William Adelin's submission, King Louis gave his full support to William Clito,24 thereby rejecting the legitimacy of Henry's authority and instigating a war that would disrupt Normandy and France for the next several years. The
It was a compromise characteristic of Henry's astute diplomacy: without humbling himself by rendering homage personally, he would place Louis under the moral obligation of a good lord to reject Clito's pretensions and accept the legitimacy of Henry's rule and the succession rights of his son and heir.
Henry, in urging that his son render homage in his place, was proposing an essentially novel approach to the restructuring of Normandy's feudal relationship with France. It was an arrangement that Louis VI would eventually accept, but only after more than four years of warfare.
The war began in earnest following the deaths of three of the most eminent persons in Henry's realm: William count of Evreux on 18 April 1118, Queen Matilda on 1 May, and Robert count of Meulan on 5 June (Robert may have retired in 1116/1117 to his family monastery of Saint-Leger, Préaux). “After these persons had died,” Orderic laments, “great trials began for the Normans.”58 The effectiveness of Henry I's governance was seriously damaged by the loss of his capable wife, who had served effectively and devotedly as his English regent, and of Robert of Meulan, his sagacious adviser, who had contributed significantly, so contemporaries stated, to the political and diplomatic acumen of Henry's regime. William count of Evreux, however, was neither devoted nor sagacious, but his death precipitated a crisis in Normandy by permitting his county of Evreux to pass to his nephew, Henry's premier enemy, Amaury III de Montfort. Amaury,
Had he [William Citro] chosen to become an Anglo-Norman earl and courtier, the loss of the royal son and heir a year thereafter might well have deflected the succession to him—unless, of course, he had chosen to board the White Ship himself. But even in the best of circumstances, it would have been painful for Henry to offer the succession to the person against whose claims he had struggled so long. And there was always the hazard that, in theory at least, recognizing Clito's right to succeed might have cast doubt on Henry's right to rule. If Clito were the rightful heir, why should he not be the rightful king?
With the approach of peace, it is useful to look back on the preceding years of warfare and draw what conclusions one can. First, the fact that William Clito remained alive and at large gave Henry's enemies, both internal and external, the unique advantage of a plausible rival to support. Second, during these times of crisis, bonds of fealty proved surprisingly fragile as former oath- bound fideles—William Crispin, Eustace of Breteuil, Hugh of Gournay, Robert of Neubourg, Amaury de Montfort—changed loyalties in accordance with their personal advantages and impulses.
Third, the geographical patterns of rebellion within Normandy leave no doubt that domestic uprisings were tightly linked to and made possible by the hostilities of external principalities; thus, the northeastern Norman rebellions ceased when Flanders withdrew, those of southern Normandy died out when Henry reached an accommodation with Anjou, and the cessation of French attacks ended hostilities among rebellious barons in the east. Finally, the months of invasion and rebellion make amply clear the ghastly consequences of medieval warfare (burned fields, villages, and cities, kidnapped or murdered peasant families) and show with even greater clarity the reasons why the majority of Henry I's subjects appreciated so deeply the peace that he maintained throughout most of the years of his reign. The wars of 1118–1119 seriously afflicted only the outer reaches of Normandy and for only about fifteen months.
The most striking aspect of the peace of 1120 is that Henry had managed to win the full benefit of Louis VI's lordship while eluding the responsibility and embarrassment of personal vassalage.
Henry was, as the Welsh chronicler declared, “the man against whom no one could prevail except God himself,” it could perhaps be concluded that God, in a singularly cruel and capricious mood, had prevailed indeed.
various ways the calamity of the White Ship cast its shadow into the future. Much of Henry I's political activity during the years that followed was shaped, directly or indirectly, by that single disaster. The death of William Adelin made it vital that the king remarry and produce another son. For as matters now stood, William Clito was the most plausible heir to Henry's throne, and Henry had fought long and determinedly to thwart his succession.
Like the wars of 1118–1119, the rebellion of 1123–1124 was orchestrated by Amaury de Montfort.
The battle of Rougemontier, or Bourgthéroulde as it is usually called, cannot have lasted for more than half an hour, and it entailed no clashes of arms in the traditional sense. Yet it marked a decisive end to the rebellion of 1123–1124, and even though Henry I was not present, it can properly be regarded as his last battle. For the final dozen years of his reign, as Robert of Torigny observed, “the duchy of Normandy and the kingdom of England were completely at peace.”
With respect to Anjou, Henry began working with the papacy to obtain an annulment of the marriage between Sibyl of Anjou and William Clito.
Indeed, the Church usually tolerated such marriages unless someone objected strongly to them. Henry did indeed object and accompanied his objection with a flood of money into the papal treasury; Whatever means, Henry won over the papal legate Gérard bishop of Angoulême, who issued an official condemnation of the marriage.
the case of Maud, however, a single great court sufficed: it met at Windsor at Christmas 1126 and adjourned to Westminster a few days later, where the oaths were taken. The courtiers swore to uphold the succession not only of Maud but also of her legitimate son, if she should have one. In short, Henry's great men committed themselves to the rule of the future Henry II some six years before his birth.
But since the future of the Anglo-Norman monarchy was at issue, the decision in favor of Maud was not made rashly. John of Worcester states that before making his choice Henry had taken counsel with his great men, and William of Malmesbury adds that he arrived at his decision “after deliberating long and deeply.”112 On the nature of these deliberations contemporary writers are silent; they disclose neither what alternatives if any to Maud's succession were considered, nor what advice the king received, nor from whom. But buried in the sources are certain clues that point to a clash of opinion at the court of 1126—a dispute between Maud's friends and opponents which divided Henry's curiales and dimly foreshadowed the savage political factions of the next reign.
Contemporary writers speak not a word about his candidacy until after Henry I's death, but it may perhaps be significant that in 1125, by Henry's arrangement, he was wed to Matilda of Boulogne, daughter and heiress of Count Eustace III.114 Matilda of Boulogne's mother, Mary of Scotland, was the sister of the late Queen Matilda, Henry's first wife, and like her a descendant of Alfred the Great and Edmund Ironside. Stephen's children would thus graft the Norman and Anglo-Saxon royal branches no less truly than the children of Henry I and Queen Matilda. Henry cannot have been unaware of this fact. At the time that he was arranging the marriage (probably 1124 or 1125) the empress Maud was still reigning in Germany and unavailable. Until she was widowed in late May 1125, Henry may have taken Stephen's candidacy seriously.