1100-1129 Henry I and the White Ship

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. 2nd August 1100. And thereafter on the morning after Lammas day was the King William (age 44) shot in hunting, by an arrow from his own men, and afterwards brought to Winchester, Hampshire [Map], and buried in the cathedral.¹³⁰ This was in the thirteenth year after that he assumed the government. He was very harsh and severe over his land and his men, and with all his neighbours; and very formidable; and through the counsels of evil men, that to him were always agreeable, and through his own avarice, he was ever tiring this nation with an army, and with unjust contributions. For in his days all right fell to the ground, and every wrong rose up before God and before the world. God's church he humbled; and all the bishoprics and abbacies, whose elders fell in his days, he either sold in fee, or held in his own hands, and let for a certain sum; because he would be the heir of every man, both of the clergy and laity; so that on the day that he fell he had in his own hand the archbishopric of Canterbury, with the bishopric of Winchester, and that of Salisbury, and eleven abbacies, all let for a sum; and (though I may be tedious) all that was loathsome to God and righteous men, all that was customary in this land in his time. And for this he was loathed by nearly all his people, and odious to God, as his end testified:-for he departed in the midst of his unrighteousness, without any power of repentance or recompense for his deeds. On the Thursday he was slain; and in the morning afterwards buried; and after he was buried, the statesmen that were then nigh at hand, chose his brother Henry (age 32) to king. And he immediately¹³¹ gave the bishopric of Winchester to William Giffard; and afterwards went to London; and on the Sunday following, before the altar at Westminster, he promised God and all the people, to annul all the unrighteous acts that took place in his brother's time, and to maintain the best laws that were valid in any king's day before him.

Note 130. His monument is still to be seen there, a plain gravestone of black marble, of the common shape called "dos d'ane"; such as are now frequently seen, though of inferior materials, in the churchyards of villages; and are only one remove from the grassy sod.

Note 131. i.e. before he left Winchester for London; literally "there-right"-an expression still used in many parts of England. Neither does the word "directly", which in its turn has almost become too vulgar to be used, nor its substitute, "immediately", which has nearly superseded it, appear to answer the purpose so well as the Saxon, which is equally expressive with the French "sur le champ".

Chronicle of William of Malmesbury Book 8 Chapter 6. 2nd August 1100. After dinner he went into the forest, attended by few persons; of whom the most intimate with him was Walter, surnamed Tirel, who had been induced to come from France by the liberality of the king. This man alone had remained with him, while the others, employed in the chase, were dispersed as chance directed. The sun was now declining, when the king, drawing his bow and letting fly an arrow, slightly wounded a stag which passed before him; and, keenly gazing, followed it, still running, a long time with his eyes, holding up his hand to keep off the power of the sun's rays. At this instant Walter, conceiving a noble exploit, which was while the king's attention was otherwise occupied to transfix another stag which by chance came near him, unknowingly, and without power to prevent it. Oh, gracious God! pierced his breast with a fatal arrow.¹ On receiving the wound, the king uttered not a word; but breaking off the shaft of the weapon where it projected from his body, fell upon the wound, by which he accelerated his death. Walter immediately ran up, but as he found him senseless and speechless, he leaped swiftly upon his horse, and escaped by spurring him to his utmost speed. Indeed there was none to pursue him: some connived at his flight; others pitied him; and all were intent on other matters. Some began to fortify their dwellings; others to plunder; and the rest to look out for a new king. A few countrymen conveyed the body, placed on a cart, to the cathedral at Winchester; the blood dripping from it all the way. Here it was committed to the ground within the tower, attended by many of the nobility, though lamented by few.

Note 1. "The tradition of William having met his death by the hand of Sir Walter Tirel, whilst hunting in the New Forest, is generally received; but Suger [See The Deeds of Louis le Gros by Suger], a contemporary historian, and, as it seems, a friend of Tirel, in his Life of Louis le Gros, king of France, alluding to the death of Rufus, observes, "It was alleged by some that a certain nobleman, Walter Tirel, had pierced him with an arrow: whom, as he neither feared nor hoped, we have often heard solemnly swear, almost as if it were sacrosanct, that on that day he neither came to that part of the forest where the king was hunting, nor did he see him in the forest at all.². See also Edmer, Historia Novorum. p. 54, and Ord. Vit., History Ecclesiastical, lib. x. p. 783."— Hardy.

Note 2. "Imponebatur a quibusdam cuidam nobili Gualtero Tirello quod eum sagitta perfoderat: quem, cum nec timeret nec speraret, jurejurando sæpius audivimus quasi sacrosanctum asserere, quod ea die nec in eam partem silvæ, in qua rex venebatur, venerit, nec eum in silva omnino viderit."

Historia Novorum by Eadmer. 2nd August 1100. For he did not believe that the Apostolic See could have any jurisdiction in his kingdom unless it was permitted by him. How he behaved thereafter, it is not fitting to write here while hastening on to other matters. Nevertheless, he was not allowed to enjoy for long the liberty he so proudly claimed to have attained. For before a year had passed, he was struck down by an unexpected and sudden death and lost it. October heard him boast; the second day of the following August saw him breathe his last. Indeed, on that morning he had eaten and gone into the forest to hunt, and there, pierced in the heart by an arrow, he died instantly, unrepentant and unconfessed, and was immediately abandoned by all. Whether the arrow, thrown, as some say, struck him, or whether, as more affirm, he stumbled and fell upon it, we think it idle to investigate; it is enough to know that he was struck down and killed by the just judgment of God.

Here comes to mind what this king once said to the Bishop of Rochester, as we previously reported, namely, that God would never have him as a good man, in return for the harm God did to him. And I consider what God later did to him during the rest of his life. For it is known that from the time he uttered those words, having recovered from the illness with which he was grievously afflicted, he was so successful in defeating and subduing enemies, acquiring lands, and indulging his pleasures, that you would have thought all things smiled upon him. Even the wind and the sea themselves seemed to obey him. I speak the truth, and do not lie: whenever he wished to cross from England to Normandy or to return swiftly according to his will, the sea, though it often raged savagely, immediately calmed at his approach, and served him with marvelous tranquility during the crossing. What more? I confess, he was so fortunate in all things that it is as if God answered his blasphemous words in this way: "If, as you say, I shall never have you as a good man because of some evil I inflict upon you, then let Me see whether, at least by doing you good, I might make you good. Therefore, I will fulfill your will in everything that you consider good." But what came of it? He prospered so much through his successes that, as those who were constantly present with him attest, he never got up from his bed nor laid himself down in it without being worse than he was before. Therefore, since he would not be corrected by misfortune nor drawn to good by prosperity, lest he in his prolonged madness should continue to bring ruin upon the good, the just Judge swiftly removed him from this life by a sudden death.

Nec enim putabat apostolicum orbis posse in regno suo esse cujuslibet juris, nisi permissus a se. Qualiter ergo deinceps sese habuerit, ad alia festinanti scribere opportunum non est. Attamen libertate qua se potitum gloriatus est non diu frui permissus est. Prius enim quam annus transiit insperata et subita morte percussus earn perdidit. October namque audivit eum gloriantem, secunda dies sequentis Augusti vidit eum expirantem. Siquidem ilia die mane pransus in silvam venatum ivit, ibique sagitta in corde percussus, impœnitens et inconfessus e vestigio mortuus est, et ab omni homine mox derelictus. Quæ sagitta utrum, sicut quidam aiunt, jacta ipsum percusserit, an, quod plures affirmant, ilium pedibus offendentem superque ruentem occiderit, disquirere otiosum putamus; cum scire sufficiat eum justo judicio Dei prostratum atque necatum.

Hic occurrit animo quid rex iste quondam, ut supra retulimus, Rofensi episcopo dixerit, videlicet quod Deus nunquam eum bonum habiturus esset pro malo quod sibi inferret; et perpendo quid postmodum Deus erga illum egerit donec vite presenti superfuit. Scitur enim quia ex quo illa verba, depulso languore quo notum est illum fuisse gravatum, protulit, tantum in deprimendo et subju- gando inimicos, in adquirendo terras, in exercendo voluptates suas prosperatus est, ut omnia sibi arridere putares. Ventus insuper et ipsum mare videbantur ei obtemperare. Verum dico non mentior, quia cum de Anglia in Normanniam transire, vel inde cursim prout ipsum voluntas sua ferebat redire, volebat, mox illo mari appropinquante omnis tempestas quæ nonnunquam immane sæviebat sedabatur, et transeunti mira tranquillitate famulabatur. Quid amplius? Ita, fateor, in cunctis erat fortunatus, ac si verbis ejus hoc modo responderit Deus, "Si te pro malo, ut dicis, nunquam bonum habebo, probabo an saltem pro bono possim te bonum habere, et ideo in omni quod tu bonum æstimas velle tuum adimplebo." Sed quid? In tantum ex successibus suis profecit, ut, sicut ii qui factis illius die noctuque præsentes extiterunt attestantur, nunquam vel de lecto surgeret vel in lecto se collocaret, quin se ipso aut collocante aut surgente semper deterior esset. Quapropter dum nec malo corrigi voluit nec bono ad bene agendum attrahi potuit, ne in perniciem bonorum diutino furore saviret, compendiosa illum sequus Arbiter et momentanea cæde huic vitæ subtraxit.

The Ecclesiastical History of England and Normandy by Orderic Vitalis. 2nd August 1100. The morning¹ of the day following, King William, having dined with his minions, prepared, after the meal was ended, to go forth and hunt in the New Forest. Being in great spirits he was joking with his attendants while his boots were being laced, when an armourer came and presented to him six arrows. The king immediately took them with great satisfaction, praising the work, and unconscious of what was to happen, kept four of them himself and held out the other two to Walter Tirel.² "It is but right," he said, "that the sharpest arrows should be given to him who knows best how to inflict mortal wounds with them." This Tirel was a French knight of good extraction, the wealthy lord of the castles of Poix and Pontoise, filling a high place among the nobles, and a gallant soldier; he was therefore admitted to familiar intimacy with the king, and became his constant companion. Meanwhile, while they were idly talking on various subjects, and the king's household attendants were assembled about him, a monk of Gloucester presented himself and delivered to the king a letter from his abbot. Having read it, the king burst out laughing, and said merrily to the knight just mentioned, "Walter, do what I told you." The knight replied, "I will, my lord." Slighting then the warnings of the elders, and forgetting that the heart is lifted up before a fall, he said respecting the letter he had received, "I wonder what has induced my lord Serlo to write to me in this strain, for I really believe he is a worthy abbot and respectable old man. In the simplicity of his heart, he transmits to me, who have enough besides to attend to, the dreams of his snoring monks, and even takes the trouble to commit them to writing, and send them a long distance. Does he think that I follow the example of the English, who will defer their journey or their business on account of the dreams of a parcel of wheezing old women?"

Thus speaking, he hastily rose, and mounting his horse, rode at full speed to the forest. His brother, Count Henry, with William de Breteuil³ and other distinguished persons followed him, and, having penetrated into the woods, the hunters dispersed themselves in various directions according to custom. The king and Walter de Poix posted themselves with a few others in one part of the forest, and stood with their weapons in their hands eagerly watching for the coming of the game, when a stag suddenly running between them, the king quitted his station, and Walter⁴ shot an arrow. It grazed the beast's grizzly back, but glancing from it, mortally wounded the king who stood within its range. He immediately fell to the ground, and alas! suddenly expired³. The death of one man caused the greatest confusion among numbers, and the wood echoed with fearful shouts occasioned by the death of their prince. Prince Henry lost no time in riding as fast as his horse could carry him to Winchester, where the royal treasure was kept, and imperiously demanded the keys from the keepers, as the lawful heir. William de Breteuil arrived at the same instant with breathless haste, for he anticipated Henry's deep policy and resolved to oppose it. "We ought," he said, "to have a loyal regard for the fealty we have sworn to your brother Robert. He is, undoubtedly, the eldest son of King William, and both I and you, my lord Henry, have paid him homage⁴. Therefore we ought to keep our engagements to him in all respects, whether he be absent or present. He has long laboured in God's service, and the Lord now restores him, without a contest, the duchy which he relinquished for the love of heaven, as well as his father's crown. There was now a sharp contention between them, and crowds flocked round them from all quarters; but the influence of an heir present in person to claim his rights began to prevail. Henry hastily seizing his sword drew it out of the scabbard, declaring that no foreigner should on frivolous pretences lay hands on his father's sceptre.

Note 1. Malmesbury, whom we have just quoted, tells us that the king did not go out to hunt till after dinner, but that was an early meal in those days.

Note 2. Walter Tirel, lord of Poix (Somme), and keeper of the castle of Pontoise.

Note 3. William de Breteuil, son of William FitzOsberne.

Note 4. Walter Tirel, the third of that name. He must have undertaken the pilgrimage to the Holy Land in which he died after he founded the abbey of Selincourt in 1134. He also founded the priory of St. Denys at Poix. He lived in the Vexin in 1091, at which time he appears as witness in a charter of King Philip I., being a donation of the abbey of St. Melon at Pontoise to the archbishop of Rouen. We must not be surprised to find him sometimes at Pontoise and at others in Picardy, as the counts of Amiens were both counts of Pontoise and the French Vexin.

Richard Giffard, his wife's father, was probably brother of Walter Giffard, earl of Buckingham.

Hugh Tirrel, son of Walter III. and Anne, went also to the Holy Land in 1146.

Note 3. Malmesbury informs us that on receiving the wound the king uttered not a word, but breaking off the shaft of the arrow where it projected from his body, fell upon the wound by which he accelerated his death. The sun was declining, and the king, at the time he was shot, was holding up his hand to screen his eyes from the sun's rays athwart the glades of the forest, while he was keenly gazing at a stag which he had just slightly wounded.

Note 4. Our author, so far from applauding the loyalty of William de Breteuil, already exhibits his great partiality for Henry I. Robert Curthose was odious to the clergy not only on account of his licentious conduct, but because he afforded them no protection against the rapacity of the barons.

The Ecclesiastical History of England and Normandy by Orderic Vitalis. In the year of our Lord 1100, on Thursday, the fourth of the nones [ 20th ] of August, William Rufus was mortally wounded by an arrow in the New Forest, after having possessed the kingdom of England twelve years and nearly ten months. Thereupon Henry hastened to London with Robert earl of Mellent, and the following Sunday [5th August 1100] was placed on the throne in the church of St. Peter the apostle, at Westminster, being anointed by the venerable Maurice, bishop of London. Anselm, archbishop of Canterbury, was then an exile, as it has been already observed, and Thomas, archbishop of York, being lately dead¹, that metropolitan see was still vacant. Henry was thirty years old when he ascended the throne, and his reign lasted thirty-five years and four months². He ruled the dominions, divinely committed to him, with prudence and success in prosperity and adversity, and was distinguished among the princes of Christendom for his love of peace and justice. In his time the church of God was brilliantly endowed with wealth and honours, and all orders of the religious increased to the glory of the Creator. This is shown by the monks and clergy, who, during his reign, augmented their numbers and their dignity; this is proved in the case of anchorites, who, felling dense woods, and rearing among them the lofty spires of churches and abbeys, exult in their labours, and sing the praises of God with heart-felt peace, where once robbers and outlaws, abandoned to all wickedness, found their retreats.

Note 1. This is incorrect; the archbishop of York survived till the end of the following November. It is not even quite certain that he did not assist at the coronation of Henry I, placing the crown on his head, after the royal unction had been given by the bishop of London. At any rate the archbishop did not die till Sunday, November 28.

Note 2. In the MS. of St. Evroult the figures have been erased, and the six last words, "reigned five years and six months," interlined.

On 28th September 1106 King Henry I "Beauclerc" England (age 38) defeated his older brother Robert Curthose III Duke Normandy (age 55) at the Battle of Tinchebray at Tinchebray, Orne.

William Warenne 2nd Earl of Surrey and Robert Beaumont 1st Earl of Leicester Count Meulan (age 66). Elias La Flèche De Baugency I Count Maine commanded the reserve. The following fought for Henry:

William "Brito aka Breton" D'Aubigny (age 20).

Alan Canhiart IV Duke Brittany (age 43).

Raoul Tosny (age 26).

William "Pincerna aka Butler" D'Aubigny (age 42).

Robert Grandesmil (age 28), and.

William Normandy I Count Évreux.

Robert Curthose III Duke Normandy was captured and spent the next twenty-eight years in prison; never released.

William Mortain Count Mortain 2nd Earl Cornwall (age 22) was also captured. He spent the next thirty or more years in prison before becoming a monk. Earl Cornwall forfeit.

King Edgar Ætheling II of England (age 55) was captured and subsequently released; Henry had married to Edgar's niece Edith aka Matilda Dunkeld Queen Consort England (age 26) in 1100.

Robert II Belleme 2nd Count Ponthieu 3rd Earl of Shrewsbury (age 50) escaped.

Robert Stuteville was captured.

Chronicum Anglicanum by Ralph Coggeshall. Philip, King of France, passed away, and his son Louis succeeded him. Louis had six sons and one daughter. Philip,¹ who was anointed as king, but suffered a tragic and unheard-of misfortune. One day, while riding through Paris, his horse was startled by a diabolical pig, causing it to fall. Philip was thrown against a stone and crushed, and he died the following night [30th July 1108]. Immediately afterward, his brother Louis was crowned by Pope Innocent at their father's request. The third son, Henry, became a monk at Clairvaux and later Archbishop of Reims. The fourth son, Robert, became Count of Dreux and father of Robert, Count of Perche, as well as the Bishop of Beauvais and the Bishop of Orléans. The fifth son, Philip, became a cleric. The sixth son, Peter, married the daughter of Reginald of Courtenay and inherited his lands.

Philippus, rex Francorum, obiit, cui successit Ludovicus filius ejus, qui genuit sex filios et unam filiam, Philippum, qui fuit inunctus in regem, de quo inauditum contigit infortunium. Cum enim quadam die per Parisius equitaret, obvio porco diabolico offensus equus cecidit, et sessorem suum ad silicem contrivit, et nocte sequenti spiritum exhalavit; et statim Ludovicus, frater ejus, ab Innocentio papa coronatur petitione patris. Tertius filius regis fuit Henricus, monachus Claravalensis, et postea Remensium archiepiscopus. Quartus Robertus comes Drocensium, pater Roberti, comitis de Perche, et episcopi Belvacensis, et episcopi Aurelianensis. Quintus filius fuit Philippus, clericus. Sextus Petrus, qui duxit filiam Reginaldi de Cortenai, cum terra ipsius. Soror istorum regis filia fuit Constantia, qure primo tradita est Eustachio comiti Boloniensi, filio regis Stephani, ac postmodum Raimundo, comiti Sancti Ægidii, quam postea repudiavit.

Note 1. Philip of France, 1116–1131, co-ruled with his father from 1129. Orderic Vitalis, Book 4, 105: "In the year of our Lord, 1129, the seventh indiction, the boy Philip was chosen by his father Philip, and crowned as king at Rheims by Reynold II, archbishop of that see on Easter day; but two years afterwards he was so severely fractured by his horse falling under him, that he died at Paris." Abbot Suger, Life of Louis the Fat, Chapter 31: "Meanwhile there occurred a singular and utterly unheard-of misfortune for the kingdom of France. For the son of King Louis, a blooming and gracious boy, Philip, the hope of the good and the terror of the wicked, one day while riding through a suburb of the city of Paris, his horse, struck by a devilish pig that crossed its path, fell heavily and crushed its rider, that most noble boy, who, thrown upon the pavement, was shattered beneath the weight of the animal. At this calamity the city and all who heard of it were stricken with consternation, for that very day he had summoned the army for an expedition, and they cried aloud, wept, and lamented. They gathered up the tender boy, nearly dead, and carried him to a nearby house; but when night came, alas, he breathed out his spirit. How great and how wondrous the grief and mourning that fell upon his father, his mother, and the nobles of the realm, even Homer himself would not have sufficed to express it. He was buried according to royal custom in the church of blessed Denis, in the royal sepulchre, to the left of the altar of the Holy Trinity, in the presence of many bishops and nobles of the realm. His wise father, after grievous lamentations and bitter complaints of a life left bereft, at last, by the counsel of religious men, allowed himself to be consoled."

Chronicle of Henry of Huntingdon 1119. 1119. King Henry, in the fifty-second year after the Normans conquered England, and in the nineteenth year of his reign, fought a great battle with the King of France¹. That king placed the first division of his army under the command of William, the son of Eobert, King Henry's brother, supporting him with the main body of his army* On the other side, King Henry posted his [Norman] vassals in the first line; the second, consisting of his household troops, he led himself on horseback; in the third, he placed his sons, with the main body of infantry. At the outset, the first line of the French unhorsed and quickly dispersed the Norman knights. It afterwards attacked the, division which Henry himself commanded, and was itself routed. The troops imder the command of the two kings now met, and the battle raged fiercely; the lances were shivered, and they fought with swords. At this time, William Crispin² twice struck King Henry on the head, and though his helmet was sword-proof, the violence of the blow forced it a little into the king's fore-head, so that blood gushed forth. The king, however, returned the blow on his assailant with such force, that though his helmet was impenetrable, the horse and its rider were struck to the ground, and the knight was pre sently taken prisoner in the king's presence. Meanwhile, the infantiy, with whom the king's sons were posted, not being yet engaged, but waiting for the signal, levelled their spears, and charged the enemy. Upon which the French were suddenly daunted, and broke their ranks, and fled. King Henry, thus victorious, remained on the field until all file nobles of the defeated araiy were taken prisoners and brought before him. He then retiuned to Eouen, while the bells were ringing, and the clergy were chanting hymns of thanksgiving to the Lord God of hosts. This glorious victory has been thus celebrated in heroic verse:

Where Noyon's tow'rs rise o*er the plain.

And Oise flows onward to the Seine,

Two banner'd hosts in ranks advance:

Here, Lewis leads the powers of France;

Henry of England, there, commands His English and his Norman bands

See his arm the foremost crush.

The island spearmen onward rash;

While the bold chivalry of France

Recoils before the Norman lance;

And mattered oaths reveal their shame,

As they curse the conqueror's name.

So distant ages long shall tell

Of gallant Henry, first to quell

On his own soil the Frenchman's pride,

Where Noyon's field with blood was dyed;

And conq'ring England's mighty son

The spoils and laurell'd trophies won.

Note 1. Henry of Huntingdon omits mentioning in the text of his history where the battle was fought, but the verses which follow supply the name at the place, Noyon. We are indebted to Henry of Huntingdon for a full account of this very important and decisive action, of which the Saxon Gbreniele S'ves only a slight notice. Indeed, from this time, or shortly afterwards, enry of Huntingdon assumes the character of an original historian of events contemporary with the period in which he lived.

Note 2. Count of Evreux.

Chronicle of William of Malmesbury Book V. [25th November 1120] Nevertheless, the calm of this brilliant, and carefully concerted peace, this anxious, universal hope, was destroyed in an instant by the vicissitudes of human estate. For, giving orders for returning to England, the king set sail from Barfleur just before twilight on the seventh before the kalends of December [25th November]; and the breeze which filled his sails conducted him safely to his kingdom and extensive fortunes. But the young man, who was now somewhat more than seventeen years of age, and, by his father's indulgence, possessed everything but the name of king, commanded another vessel to be prepared for himself; almost all the young nobility flocking around him, from similarity of youthful pursuits. The sailors, too, immoderately filled with wine, with that seaman's hilarity which their cups excited, exclaimed, that those who were now a-head must soon be left astern; for the ship was of the best construction, and recently fitted with new materials. When, therefore, it was now dark night, these imprudent youths, overwhelmed with liquor, launched the vessel from the shore. She flies swifter than the winged arrow, sweeping the rippling surface of the deep: but the carelessness of the intoxicated crew drove her on a rock, which rose above the waves not far from shore. In the greatest consternation, they immediately ran on deck, and with loud outcry got ready their boat-hooks, endeavouring, for a considerable time, to force the vessel off: but fortune resisted and frustrated every exertion. The oars, too, dashing, horribly crashed against the rock,¹ and her battered prow hung immoveably fixed. Now, too, the water washed some of the crew overboard, and, entering the chinks, drowned others; when the boat having been launched, the young prince was received into it, and might certainly have been saved by reaching the shore, had not his illegitimate sister, the countess of Perche, now struggling with death in the larger vessel, implored her brother's assistance; shrieking out that he should not abandon her so barbarously. Touched with pity, he ordered the boat to return to the ship, that he might rescue his sister; and thus the unhappy youth met his death through excess of affection: for the skiff, overcharged by the multitudes who leaped into her, sank, and buried all indiscriminately in the deep. One rustic² alone escaped; who, floating all night upon the mast, related in the morning, the dismal catastrophe of this tragedy. No ship was ever productive of so much misery to England; none ever so widely celebrated throughout the world. Here also perished with William, Richard, another of the king's sons, whom a woman of no rank had borne him, before his accession; a youth of intrepidity, and dear to his father from his obedience: Richard earl of Chester, and his brother Otuell, the tutor and preceptor of the king's son: the countess of Perche, the king's daughter, and his niece the countess of Chester, sister to Theobald: and indeed almost every person of consequence about court, whether knight, or chaplain, or young nobleman, training up to arms. For, as I have said, they eagerly hastened from all quarters, expecting no small addition to their reputation, if they could either amuse, or show their devotion to the young prince. The calamity was augmented by the difficulty of finding the bodies, which could not be discovered by the various persons who sought them along the shore; but delicate as they were, they became food for the monsters of the deep. The death of this youth being known, produced a wonderful change in existing circumstances. His father renounced the celibacy he had cherished since Matilda's death, anxious for future heirs by a new consort: his father-in-law, returning home from Jerusalem, faithfully espoused the party of William, the son of Robert earl of Normandy, giving him his other daughter³ in marriage, and the county of Maine; his indignation being excited against the king, by his daughter's dowry being detained in England after the death of the prince.

Note 1. Virgil Æneid. v. 206.

Note 2. He is called a butcher by Orderic Vitalis, p. 867, who has many particulars of this event.

Note 3. "The marriage of William, son of the duke of Normandy, with Sibilla, in 1123, was dissolved, at the instance of king Henry, in the following year, by the pope's legate."—Hardy.

Chronicum Anglicanum by Ralph Coggeshall. 1120. A collision with a rock caused the wreck of a ship near Barfleur, in which nearly the entire lineage of the Norman nobility perished. Among the dead were William, the son of King Henry, along with another of his illegitimate sons, two daughters of the king, one of his nieces, and many others, nearly three hundred people. This disaster occurred on the seventh day before the Kalends of December [25th November 1120], and none of their bodies were ever found.

MCXX. Rupis allisio maris unam demersit navem apud Barbefleot, in qua pene tota propago omnium nobilium Normannorum, una cum Willelmo filio regis Henrici et quodam alio notho, cum duabus filiabus regis, et una ejus nepe aliique quamplures fere trecenti homines perierunt, septimo kalendas Decembris, nec eorum corpora inventa sunt.

Note 1. Florence of Worcester: "Henry, king of England, having successfully accomplished all his designs, returned from Normandy to England. His son William, hastening to follow him, embarked in company with a great number of nobles, knights, women, and boys. Having left the harbour and put out to sea, encouraged by the extraordinary calmness of the weather, shortly afterwards the ship in which they were sailing struck on a rock and was wrecked, and all on board were swallowed up by the waves, except one churl, who, as it is reported, was not worthy of being named, but by the wonderful mercy of God, escaped alive. Of those who perished, those of highest rank were, William, the king's son, Richard, earl of Chester, Othiel, his brother, William Bigod, Geoffrey Riddel, Walter d'Evereux, Geoffrey, archdeacon of Hereford, the king's daughter, the countess of Perche, the king's niece, the countess of Chester, and many more who are omitted for brevity's sake. This disaster horrified and distressed the mind of the king, who reached England after a safe voyage, and of all who heard of it, and struck them with awe at the mysterious decrees of a just God."

Orderic Vitalis: "They even drove away with contempt, amidst shouts of laughter, the priests who came to bless them, with the other ministers who carried the holy water; but they were speedily punished for their mockery. Besides the king's treasure and some casks of wine, there was no cargo in Thomas's ship, which was full of passengers; and they urged him to use his utmost endeavours to overtake the royal fleet which was already ploughing the waves. In his drunken folly, Thomas, confident in his seamanship and the skill of his crew, rashly boasted that he would soon leave behind him all the ships that had started before them. At last, he gave the signal for departure; the sailors seized the oars without a moment's delay, and, unconscious of the fate which was imminently impending, joyously handled the ropes and sails, and made the ship rush through the water at great rate. But as the drunken rowers exerted themselves to the utmost in pulling the oars, and the luckless pilot steered at random and got the ship out of its due course, the starboard bow of the Blanche-Nef struck violently on a huge rock, which is left dry, every day, when the tide is out, and covered by the waves at igh water. Two planks having been shattered by the crash, the ship, alas! filled and went down. At this fearful moment, the passengers and crew raised cries of distress, but their mouths were soon stopped by the swelling waves, and all perished together, except two who seized hold of the yard from which the sail was set. They hung on to it the greater part of the night, in earnest hope that they would receive aid in some shape or other. One of these men was a butcher of Rouen, of the name of Berold; the other, a young man of gentle birth whose name was Geoffrey, the son of Gilbert de I'Aigle. The moon was at this time in her nineteenth day in the constellation of the Bull, and gave light to the world for nine hours, so that all objects on the surface of the sea were clearly visible to the sailors. Thomas, the master of this vessel, after his first plunge into the sea, gained fresh energy, and, recovering his senses, raised his head above the water, and perceiving the two men clinging to the yard-arm, cried out: 'What has become of the king's son?' The shipwrecked men replied that he and all who were with him had perished. 'Then,' said he, 'it is misery for me to live any longer.' Having said this, he abandoned himselt to his fate in utter despair, preferring to meet it at once, rather than face the rage of the king in his indignation for the loss of his children, or drag out his existence and expiate his crime in a dungeon. Meanwhile, Berold and Geoffrey, hanging by the yard-arm over the waters, called upon God to save them, and encouraging one another, waited in fearful anxiety for the end to which it should please him to bring their misery."

William of Malmesbury: "But the young man, who was now somewhat more than seventeen years of age, and, by his father's indulgence, possessed everything but the name of king, commanded another vessel to be prepared for himself; almost all the young nobility flocking around him, from similarity of youthful pursuits. The sailors, too, immoderately filled with wine, with that seaman's hilarity which their cups excited, exclaimed, that those who were now a-head must soon be left astern; for the ship was of the best construction, and recently fitted with new materials. When, therefore, it was now dark night, these imprudent youths, overwhelmed with liquor, launched the vessel from the shore. She flies swifter than the winged arrow, sweeping the rippling surface of the deep: but the carelessness of the intoxicated crew drove her on a rock, which rose above the waves not far from shore. In the greatest consternation, they immediately ran on deck, and with loud outcry got ready their boat-hooks, endeavouring, for a considerable time, to force the vessel off: but fortune resisted and frustrated every exertion. The oars, too, dashing, horribly crashed against the rock, and her battered prow hung immoveably fixed. Now, too, the water washed some of the crew overboard, and, entering the chinks, drowned others; when the boat having been launched, the young prince was received into it, and might certainly have been saved by reaching the shore, had not his illegitimate sister, the countess of Perche, now struggling with death in the larger vessel, implored her brother's assistance; shrieking out that he should not abandon her so barbarously. Touched with pity, he ordered the boat to return to the ship, that he might rescue his sister; and thus the unhappy youth met his death through excess of affection: for the skiff, overcharged by the multitudes who leaped into her, sank, and buried all indiscriminately in the deep. One rustic alone escaped; who, floating all night upon the mast, related in the morning, the dismal catastrophe of this tragedy. No ship was ever productive of so much misery to England; none ever so widely celebrated throughout the world."

Chronicle of Henry of Huntingdon 1120. [25th November 1120] In the year of our Lord 1120, all his enemies being subdued, and peace restored in France, King Henry came over to England. But in the passage, the .king's two sons, William and Kichard, and his daughter and niece, with the Earl of Chester, and many nobles, were shipwrecked, besides the king's butlers, stewards, and bakers, all or most of whom were said to have been tainted with the sin of sodomy. Behold the terrible vengeance of God! Sudden death swallowed them up unshriven, though there was no wind and the sea was calm. Of whom the poet thus wrote:

"When England's chiefs, with joyous boasts.

Exulting sought her sea-girt coasts.

The French chastis'd, the Normans quelled;

Homeward their prosperous course they held,

And o'er the tranquil straits they steer'd,

While yet no adverse sign appear'd;

Th' horizon lowering suddenly.

By the Almighty's stem decree.

The bark which bore a royal freight

Was tempest torn; and, woful fate!

Henry's brave sons and daughter fair.

With England's chiefest, perish'd there,

(Where now was mirth and revelry?)

Engulph'd beneath the raging sea."