Angevin Dynasties of Europe 900-1500

by Jeffrey Anderson

  ‘We must choose his successor at once,’ said the Marshal.

  ‘In my opinion we should choose Arthur.’

  ‘Ah, sire, that would be a bad thing,’ replied the Marshal; ‘Arthur has bad councillors, and he is proud and passionate. If we put him at our head he will cause trouble, for he has no love for the English. There is Count John; he is the next heir to the lands of his father and brother.’

  ‘Marshal,’ replied the archbishop, ‘do you really mean this?’

  ‘Yes, sire. It is right; the son is nearer the land of his father than the nephew is.’

  ‘Marshal, it shall be as you wish. But I warn you that you will never repent of anything as you will repent of this.’

  ‘So be it; it is my view all the same.’4

  Perhaps it is not surprising that William, relating the story when John’s son Henry III was established on the throne, emphasized his support for John, but William’s recollection of his views does seem to have been indicative of the rest of the Anglo-Norman aristocracy, for despite the loss of Anjou and Maine, John was quickly invested as Duke of Normandy in Rouen on 25 April and crowned King of England at Westminster Abbey on 27 May. The point has also been made that William Marshal was quoting from established Norman law that succession should pass from one brother to another rather than to the son of an elder brother.

  Although John’s inheritance of the throne of England depended on the English barons, and Aquitaine was secure, a change of rulership in the rest of the Angevin domains was subject to Philip Augustus’s approval as feudal overlord. Indeed, when John later demanded to know why Philip had invaded his lands, Philip’s excuse was that John had been invested as Duke of Normandy without his permission. John offered to do homage for his lands if Philip would recognize his title, but Philip refused unless Anjou, Maine and Touraine were given to Arthur.5

  It is striking that in these early days John acted quickly, decisively and with complete success, in marked contrast to what would happen later. When Philip attacked Normandy in September 1199, John ignored him and struck at Anjou, the heart of Arthur’s support. William des Roches, the leading baron of Anjou, was Arthur’s key supporter, and Philip had recognized him as constable of Anjou, Maine and Touraine to keep him onside. However, the disputed succession had plunged Anjou into a civil war and John, already king of England and duke of Normandy, was on hand with a large army, so William began to reconsider. Philip had also offended him by invading Maine and destroying a castle William claimed was in his jurisdiction. It is noteworthy that it was Philip who was alienating his own supporters through thoughtless actions and arrogance, constantly two steps behind John’s decisive and well-thought-out attacks. William offered to reconcile Arthur and his mother Constance to John and make peace with the Bretons, and by the end of September this had been accomplished. Philip was left with nothing, and after agreeing to a Christmas truce and having a productive meeting with John in January 1200, he agreed to recognize all John’s claims in May with the Treaty of Le Goulet.

  Although Philip recognized John as heir to all the lands held by his father and brother, there was a high price. The terms of the treaty were sealed by a marriage alliance between Philip’s son Louis and John’s niece, Blanche of Castile, the daughter of his sister Eleanor, and for her dowry John gave Blanche many of the disputed lands in the Vexin (the border territory between Normandy and France) that had so long been a cause of conflict between France and England. Blanche and Louis were still children, so Philip would take custody of Blanche and her dowry until the marriage, just as Henry II held Alice’s dowry through the long years of her engagement to Richard. Philip also insisted that John recognize Arthur as heir to Brittany and respect all his rights, and accept the homage of various other rebellious vassals without punishment. John further agreed to pay 20,000 marks as a ‘relief’ for inheriting Richard’s lands. It was not uncommon for a lord to demand a relief from his vassal for the right to inherit, but the confidence to make the demand and the power to enforce it were a good indication of a lord’s status, and neither Henry nor Richard had been asked to pay a relief. Henry and Richard had recognized Philip as their nominal overlord for their French possessions, but this authority now seemed much more tangible.6

  Interestingly, the monk Gervase of Canterbury recorded that it was now, after this treaty, that some people began to call John ‘Softsword’ because he seemed to prefer peace to war. John had by no means been defeated and had rather been quite successful in the face of considerable upheaval over the succession, so Gervase’s comments are puzzling.7

  We know that the Angevin continental possessions were under enormous pressure at the end of Richard’s reign, but in 1200 John seemed to have the initiative. There was still the problem of Arthur as a rival claimant to the throne, but it was unlikely he could threaten John in England, and John’s claims to Normandy and Anjou had been recognized in the treaty of Le Goulet. This seemed a strong position from which to assert his authority, yet it was John’s own action that precipitated a crisis.

  ‘It must be witchcraft’: John’s Disastrous Defence of Normandy

  Philip Augustus was already seeking appeals from unhappy Angevin vassals and incrementally undermining the Angevin position, and John now gave him a perfect weapon. John decided to discard his wife Isabella of Gloucester as the marriage was childless, and in 1200 he married Isabella of Angoulême, an important heiress in Aquitaine. This could have been a clever strategic move, which would help stabilize the vital link between the two pieces of the Angevin Empire that had been so unstable in the past, and continued Richard’s strategy of establishing better links with the southern portion of the Angevin domains. However, the main problem with the marriage was that Isabella was already engaged to Hugh of Lusignan’s son (also named Hugh and known as Hugh ‘le Brun’), and John forced her to break the engagement. Medieval chroniclers reported that, rather than being a strategic decision, John did this because he was besotted with Isabella of Angoulême’s beauty and threw away everything for this passion. In fact, we have no need to choose between the options, and perhaps this episode is a striking example of John’s strengths and weaknesses. The Angoulême marriage can be seen as a sensible strategic move, but the manner in which John undertook it, alienating key local figures and ignoring the consequences also demonstrates his fatal flaws.8

  Within a day of Isabella’s engagement to Hugh being broken, John was betrothed to her, and within a week they were married at Chinon. When Hugh protested to John about this violation of his rights, he received only abuse. Hugh appealed for satisfaction to Philip Augustus as his and John’s overlord, and the dispute dragged on for some months with John manifesting his displeasure against the Lusignans in a variety of ways. It was while events between Philip and John were at this difficult state that preparations began for the Fourth Crusade, and it became clear that Richard’s former allies, the Count of Flanders and other regional figures, were preparing to leave. This may be the reason Philip had initially sought an accommodation with John in 1200; he may have been waiting until his troublesome vassals were safely in the eastern Mediterranean.

  John was ultimately summoned to Paris to defend himself. John refused to appear in Philip’s court on the basis that the Duke of Normandy was exempt from such appearances, but Philip responded that it was as Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Anjou that John was being summoned. John still refused to appear so he was declared to be in rebellion and all his lordships in France were forfeited. Philip was clearly stretching his authority as a feudal lord by declaring John stripped of Normandy, Anjou and Aquitaine for this offence, and even if he claimed that he was seizing John’s lands to coerce his obedience, by the terms of feudal law he should have restored the confiscated possessions to John’s heir after a year and a day.9 Yet none of this mattered: Philip could declare John’s possessions forfeit, but it meant nothing if he couldn’t take them, and conversely if John had been able to defend his lands it would have made no difference th
at Philip Augustus had declared them forfeit.

  It was now that Arthur, aged sixteen and old enough to participate in the struggle, reappeared. Philip knighted him and received his homage for Brittany, Anjou, Maine and Aquitaine, and he seemed determined to renew his claims against John. Arthur went to Tours, where he joined forces with the Lusignans and all the other leading rebels against John. They learned that Eleanor of Aquitaine was at the castle of Mirabeau between Angers and Poitiers, and Arthur besieged the castle with a force of around a thousand men.10

  John was at Le Mans and received word from William des Roches that his mother was in danger. At this moment, John lived up to the legacy of his father and brother and produced what had become the typical Angevin response to such circumstances: to move so swiftly that he appeared as if by magic when his enemies least expected it. With incredible speed he led a force to Mirebeau and completely surprised the besiegers. Eleanor had been driven to the keep and the besiegers had taken the outer walls of the castle, but John’s forces utterly routed them, appearing at dawn and herding their opponents through the narrow streets and capturing more than 200 knights and barons, including Arthur himself and the Lusignans. John wrote to the English barons to report the victory:

  Know that by the grace of God we are safe and well and God’s mercy has worked wonderfully with us … we heard that the lady our mother was closely besieged at Mirebeau, and we hurried there as fast as we could … And there we captured our nephew Arthur … and all our other Poitevin enemies who were there, being upward of 200 knights, and none escaped. Therefore God be praised for our happy success.11

  This was a triumph on the scale of Poitiers in the Hundred Years War, and John loaded the captives with chains and sent them to various prisons in Normandy and England. Philip Augustus retired through Normandy with his army, causing mayhem along the way, but it was still a retreat.

  At this moment, when John seemed to have triumphed on a scale even Richard would have envied and made himself secure, he once again brought about his own ruin, and this time it was irreversible. The difficulty seems to have been with William des Roches, the seneschal of Anjou who had first supported Arthur but had subsequently been a key supporter for John, and had in fact masterminded the assault on Mirebeau that led to Arthur’s capture. William had explicitly demanded that any decisions about how to treat the captives or conduct affairs in Anjou be discussed with him. John ignored this agreement and reportedly treated the prisoners cruelly. Shortly after, rumours that Arthur had been murdered began to circulate, and although they don’t seem to have been true at this point, they further damaged John’s reputation in Brittany, Anjou and Touraine, and hinted at the trouble that might come if Arthur were killed.

  William des Roches defected back to Philip, taking key barons from Poitou with him, and within months John’s position in Anjou and Touraine had collapsed. William des Roches captured Angers and once again Aquitaine was cut off. The Lusignans joyfully stirred up trouble in the south while Philip Augustus again prepared to move against Normandy. He was assisted by the fact that the Norman barons began to defect en masse as well. William Marshal described an ‘epidemic of treachery’, and as everything crumbled around him John seemed incapable of formulating a response. The chroniclers still believed it was because of infatuation with his new wife: Roger of Wendover, amongst others, criticized him for spending too long in bed with Isabella and idling away hours at the dining table.12

  Modern historians have sought other explanations, speculating that John was prone to depression or other forms of mental illness that prevented him from acting. This may be true, but perhaps it’s enough to say that John was simply unequal to the enormous task he faced. He wasn’t a good king, as many others before and after him weren’t strong rulers. He had demonstrated this time and again, in his failure to make good his lordship in Ireland, his clumsy handling of the marriage to Isabella and his treatment of William des Roches. He would show it again later in his reign when the English barons became disaffected. Another element of John’s personality may have been plain exhaustion. Even Henry II was worn out by the constant movement required to maintain the empire, and if John finally couldn’t summon the energy to face the incessant strain of ruling such vast territories, we may feel a tiny glimmer of sympathy with him.

  Another fact that must be considered, and has been raised by modern historians to explain the stunning speed of the collapse, is the exhaustion of taxpayers in Normandy and England. Richard’s wars, Crusade, ransom and prodigious expenditure on Chateau Gaillard and other castles may have brought the Angevin Empire to breaking point. Gerald of Wales thought so, and commented that John had brought his tyrannical methods from England to bear on Normandy, alienating the barons. John – and we mustn’t forget, Henry II and Richard before him – had to solve the problem of adapting the feudal host to long periods of warfare overseas, an insoluble problem when knights were only required to serve for forty days. All the Angevins relied extensively on mercenaries, who were detested by nobles and common people alike. Although we have seen how close Richard was to Mercadier, John’s relationship with his mercenaries was even closer, and as his trust in the nobility waned he began to appoint mercenaries to high positions in his government. This was anathema to the nobles and further eroded their trust in John.13

  Finally, there is evidence that the cross-Channel nobility with large landholdings in both England and Normandy were a much smaller class by 1200 than they had been two generations earlier in the civil war between Matilda and Stephen. Once Geoffrey Plantagenet had conquered Normandy, these cross-Channel nobles were a great source of support for Matilda because they would lose their English possessions if Stephen triumphed. They would presumably have fought for John on the same grounds, since there was never the slightest hint that he would lose the English throne. Yet either as an unintended consequence or by design, Henry II and Richard’s policy of weakening the great barons resulted in many fewer nobles with such cross-Channel possessions, and so a large class of landowners with a vested interest in keeping England and Normandy together no longer existed. There were still some nobles in this category, most notably William Marshal, and this goes far to explain his support for John.

  Perhaps the most important factor of all was that John was unable to bring security, leading to a sense that all the money his subjects paid was being wasted. John’s mercenaries didn’t help, and William Marshal’s biographer commented that one of the reasons the people of Normandy abandoned John was because one of his captains, Louvrecaire, ‘maltreated them, and pillaged them as though he were in an enemy’s country’.14 With no security, punitive taxes and a government run by mercenaries, there is a sense that the Normans had no motivation to remain loyal, especially when the Capetians had consciously created an image as wise rulers. Philip Augustus played on this, and perhaps the barons felt that Philip would be a less rapacious master than Henry II, Richard and John.

  Philip Augustus appears as the villain when we look at things from an Angevin point of view, and his plots against Henry II with Geoffrey and Richard create an unfavourable image of his character from the moment he took the throne. There is also a lingering distaste associated with his behaviour on the Third Crusade, where his actions in Sicily and ultimate abandonment of the Crusade seem mean and cowardly. His subsequent efforts to grab Angevin territory while Richard was away and then bribe Richard’s captors not to release him may have been crafty politically, but must always seem quite shabby in comparison with Richard’s military exploits and romantic escapes. However, after 1200 Philip’s patient and inexorable military pressure in contrast with John’s lethargy and incompetence begin to reverse this image, and the feeling grew that the Capetians treated their subjects better than the Angevins did.

  When John did take action, the results were as is often seen when inherently weak people attempt to show strength – bullying instead of firmness, impulsiveness instead of decisiveness, stubbornness instead of resolution. This is
displayed most notoriously in John’s treatment of Arthur. Philip Augustus, fortunate as always in the tools the Angevins placed in his hand, had taken up Arthur’s cause enthusiastically, just as he had done previously with his ‘best friends’ Geoffrey of Brittany and Richard the Lionheart when they stirred up trouble against Henry II, and indeed with John himself against Richard. In every treaty with John, Philip mentioned Arthur and his rights, and insisted that his protection of Arthur’s feudal rights was one of the main motivations of his attacks on John.15 Sometime before Easter 1203, Arthur disappeared from the castle in Rouen, never to appear again. The rumour immediately spread that he had been murdered by John, and this was accepted by contemporaries, as it is by modern historians, as what must have happened.16 John’s reputation never recovered from this stain.

  Philip Augustus barely had to change his rhetoric, and he now called for vengeance for Arthur rather than restoring his rights, and John’s position swiftly collapsed. Philip followed the roll call of important cities and castles that have become so familiar in earlier chapters, and after consolidating his hold on Angers, Le Mans and Tours, he also took Saumur (Chinon and Loches would follow). He then turned to Normandy and in summer 1203 took the key fortress of Vaudreuil. This was catastrophic for John, especially because the castle surrendered as Philip was approaching and before he had actually begun the siege. This caused local outrage as there was a perception that the garrison contained many English knights who had no interest in defending Normandy. John released an extraordinary open letter in which he claimed to have ordered the garrison to surrender, in what has been assumed to be an attempt to pretend he had some kind of strategy, but this only served to undermine confidence in him further. It is clear that morale was all-important, since Henry II had spent enormous sums on repairing all the castles in his domains and Richard had continued this work, meaning that Normandy’s defences were in excellent repair and would have been expected to hold out.17