The most memorable information we have about Henry on this day relates to his exercising of justice. Edmund Cornhill was a servant of Bishop Courtenay. On his way to Paris, Courtenay and his household had passed through Calais. The bishop had noticed a decaying corpse hanging from a gallows. On enquiry it turned out to be one William Cole, who had been found guilty of murdering a man from Calais. The judgment of the court had been that he should hang there until the rope around his neck broke. Moved by pity for the dead man, the bishop had asked the mayor and aldermen of Calais to allow the corpse to be cut down, and he gave Edmund Cornhill the task of removing the body and burying it. Cornhill did as he was ordered. But he was then arrested on the orders of the mayor and aldermen, who had decreed that anyone cutting down William Cole’s corpse would himself be hanged. Poor Cornhill was thus detained in Calais and sentenced to death for a work of charity ordered by his lord, the bishop. His only hope was a royal pardon.
A petition was drawn up on his behalf and rushed to the king at Westminster. Leaning on his cushion in his great chamber, Henry listened and nodded his assent. And, with that gesture, he saved Cornhill’s life.73
February
Friday 1st
IT WAS THE eve of Candlemas, the formal end of winter – or as contemporaries thought of it, the retreat of the dark. Good Christians were expected to fast on this day, in order to heighten the sense of anticipation for the feast itself.1 As a deeply religious man, Henry may well have followed this exhortation. But it is unlikely that he forced the rest of his household to do likewise – accounts from the previous reign show that the royal household was accustomed to eat normally on 1 February.2
The king’s fast is perhaps the reason why we find few orders dated today. John Melksop, the master of a London ship called Cob John, was commissioned to make his vessel ready and to have it manned for action.3 Similarly Nicholas Dalton, master of the Trinity of London, and Perin de Fargh, master of a balinger called the Petre de Bayonne, were both ordered to prepare their vessels and to take on mariners and servants.4
*
The great bells of Constance Cathedral were rung early today, first at dawn, and then twice more, summoning all the prelates to assemble.5 There was excitement in the air. The cardinal of St Mark, Guillaume Fillastre, had written a memorandum which had sparked great interest. In his words, ‘it is a mark of a good shepherd that he lays down his life for his sheep. If he does not lay it down, he is not a good shepherd. And if he is bound to lay down his life, how much more [readily] should he lay down the accidents of life – honour, power, dominion!’
Cardinal Fillastre went further. If John XXIII or either of the other popes failed to resign, the council could compel any or all of them to do so. In a staggeringly direct assault on his own superior, he declared
In view of the condition of the Church … the supreme pontiff and shepherd of the Church may be compelled for the peace and the unity of the church to offer to abdicate, on condition that the others agree to cease their usurpation of office and carry out their abdications honestly and freely … For since he is bound to abdicate, he may be compelled to do so … For when a man is commanded to make restitution and fails to obey the command, his property may be taken from him by armed force, or other means may be used to oblige him to perform his duty. If the pope does not obey, he may be deposed as bringing scandal on the Church of God, which he is bound to protect and cherish …6
That was not the end of it. It was not just this pope who was subject to such judgment by such a council, it was all popes.
Many other reasons might be adduced from the laws of God, of nature and of Man, to prove that a general council is superior to a pope in matters which concern the universal state of the Church, such as the present case and numerous others. Nevertheless, although these conclusions are correct, we recognise the propriety of proceeding mildly at the outset.
No one in authority had had the courage to say these things before, but once they were written down and circulated, they were widely applauded. Pope John XXIII was horrified, and felt betrayed, but there was nothing he could do but play for time. He asked for fourteen days to consider the memorandum.7
A delegation of prelates and scholars from the kingdom of Sweden, Denmark and Norway, who had just arrived, were present at this session. They agreed that the pope ought to be deposed if he should refuse to resign. However, the future of the papacy was not the main purpose of their visit. Their mission was to request that St Bridget of Sweden be recognised as a saint by all those at Constance.
St Bridget had been the founder of a religious order, the Order of St Saviour, in the 1340s. After giving birth to eight children (one of whom, Catherine, became a saint herself) and going on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, she went on many more pilgrimages, spreading the word about the way to live a moral life, and distributing the rule of her Bridgettine nuns. She urged the pope to leave Avignon and return the holy see to Rome. Through this and other such spiritual interventions, and her own moral lifestyle, her advocation of peace, and her long-distance pilgrimages, she became an internationally renowned figure. She had finally obtained papal confirmation of the Rule of her Order in 1370, three years before she died. According to her representatives at Constance, many miracles were due to her sanctity. She had, in fact, been beatified once already, in 1391, but that act had been carried out by the Roman pope alone. The French pope did not recognise the beatifications of his rival. So now her followers and countrymen wanted the Church universally to recognise her as a saint.8
The council deliberated. They decided that nine doctors of theology among the scholars should swear to St Bridget’s sanctity and miracles, and then she should be recognised as a saint. This was done: the nine doctors swore on the Holy Gospels. Then a figure representing St Bridget was set up on the altar, an archbishop from Denmark began to sing Te Deum Laudamus, and bells rang throughout the city, both after dinner and at night.
At some point in the day – whether before or after these events is unclear – Pope John XXIII provided the pious and hard-working John Catterick to the see of Lichfield, in line with Henry’s wishes. No doubt Catterick took the lead in requesting that Henry’s confessor, Stephen Patrington, be provided to the see of St David’s (which Catterick had previously held). The pope agreed to this also.9 Perhaps there was some genuine friendship between him and Catterick? Or maybe the pope felt he needed all the friends at Constance he could get, and gave in to Catterick in order to win his support? Either way, he was in for a shock.
Saturday 2nd: Candlemas
The feast of Candlemas had come, one of the principal feasts of the Christian calendar. It was more formally known as the feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary. For Christians it was the day of Mary’s purification or ‘churching’ – the fortieth day after the birth, when new mothers of male babies were welcomed back into the community, and thanks given for their safe delivery. It was also a celebration of Simeon’s recognition of the Messiah. As the story appears in St Luke’s gospel, Simeon was an old man in Jerusalem who had been promised by the Holy Ghost that he would not die before he had seen Christ. The Holy Ghost led him into the Temple at the same time as Joseph and Mary brought in the baby Jesus. Simeon understood the significance, and took up the child in his arms, and said:
Lord now let your servant depart in peace, according to your word,
for my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared before the face of all people:
a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel.10
This phrase, ‘a light to lighten the Gentiles’, accorded perfectly with the medieval view of the retreat of winter. The chapel royal at Westminster was thronged with candles – as many as possible for the celebration of this morning’s Mass. Henry processed into the chapel with his acting chamberlain carrying his candles before him. There he was surrounded by the incense of the church, members of his household in prayer, and the pa
intings of scenes from the Bible. At the east end were the portraits of Edward III and all his family, including his sons Edward the Black Prince and Henry’s own grandfather, John of Gaunt.
Fittingly Henry’s business today included giving permission for Geoffrey Colville and several of his fellows to endow a religious fraternity or gild in a chapel of Holy Trinity church, Walsoken, near Wisbech. The usual fee of £5 was paid into the royal coffers.11
*
In Constance there were celebrations, too. Pope John celebrated Mass in the cathedral. The candles were blessed in his presence, and he himself sprinkled holy water over them, and read five collects. After Mass he went into the bishop’s palace and stood on the balcony with four cardinals, overlooking the crowds in the square. He gave the people his blessing, and passed down huge candles, each weighing 60lbs, according to Ulrich Richental. As wax candles were expensive – far dearer than ordinary tallow ones – this was a mark of great generosity. Then his chaplains threw down smaller candles, and ‘among the people there was a great scramble, one falling over another, and loud laughter’.12 After dinner the pope sent out candles to all the great lords present, both spiritual and temporal, so they might share the light with their households.
*
In Paris, the king’s council had come to a decision regarding John the Fearless and his untrustworthiness in relation to the Peace of Arras. They presented the king with an ordonnance drawn up for his approval. Anticipating the arrival of proctors from John the Fearless who would agree to the terms of the ordonnance – namely John’s brother, the duke of Brabant, and his sister the duchess of Holland – they proposed that a general pardon would be proclaimed for all the followers of John the Fearless except five hundred named persons. Lands taken in war would be restored. The peace agreed at Chartres in 1409 would be renewed, and all treaties between French princes and the English would be torn up.
We strictly enjoin upon all those of our blood and lineage that they do not, on any pretence whatsoever, form any alliances with the English, or with others, to our prejudice, or to the prejudice of this peace; and should any such alliances have been formed, we positively command that all treaties be returned and annulled.13
Having drawn up this ordonnance, permission was sent to the proctors of John the Fearless to enter Paris, so they could also seal it and swear the necessary oaths to maintain it. A letter was sent to the ambassadors from the king of England, that they might enter the capital in their official capacity.14
*
At about this time a council meeting was held at the London house of the Dominican friars, or the Blackfriars as they were also known. This was the council’s usual meeting place in the king’s absence. Unfortunately the minutes are simply dated ‘February’ – but the presence of at least one councillor, Thomas Beaufort, in Paris by 21 February (at the latest) points to a meeting early in the month.15 Thomas Langley, bishop of Durham, who travelled to France with Thomas Beaufort, was also present. The other councillors there were Henry Beaufort (the chancellor), the archbishop of Canterbury, the duke of York, Lord Scrope, Sir Thomas Erpingham (the steward of the royal household), and John Prophet (keeper of the privy seal). The purpose of their meeting was to decide what measures were necessary to safeguard the realm during the king’s expedition abroad, presuming the ambassadors failed to arrange peace.16
The first striking thing about this council meeting is that there was no doubt in these men’s minds that war was inevitable. There was no discussion of what would happen if the ambassadors to France were successful, even though two of them were present. Already it was a foregone conclusion that they would fail to secure a suitable peace.
The measures the council recommended for the safety of the seas ‘during the voyage of the king’ required a small force of two great ships (defined as capable of carrying a load of 120 tuns in peacetime), five barges (100 tuns) and five balingers. Each great ship and each barge was to be manned by forty-eight mariners, twenty-six men-at-arms, and twenty-six archers. Each balinger was to be manned by forty mariners, ten men-at-arms and ten archers. The council directed that the coast from Plymouth to the Isle of Wight should be guarded by the two ships, two of the barges and one balinger. Two barges and two balingers should patrol the sea from the Isle of Wight to Orfordness, in Norfolk. The remaining two balingers and one barge should guard the coast from Orfordness all the way north to Berwick. It sounds a paltry force to cover nearly a thousand miles of coastline, but even that thin coverage required a thousand men. The men-at-arms would expect to be paid 1s per day each, the archers 6d per day, the master mariners 6d per day, and the mariners 3d per day.17 This amounted to £732 per month in wages alone for the twelve ships.
Guarding against a substantial Welsh or Scottish raid during the king’s absence was council’s next task. For the whole of Wales they allotted only one hundred men-at-arms and two hundred archers. Forty of the men-at-arms and eighty of the archers were to be stationed at Strata Florida, and the rest in the north. As for the Scottish Marches, the provision was even smaller. Just one hundred men-at-arms were allocated to guard the East March, stationed at Berwick – the council added that it was necessary to speak to the king about repairing Berwick Castle. The West March received no extra troops at all. Calais was relatively well provisioned by comparison, with an extra one hundred men-at-arms and two hundred archers.
This is the second striking thing about the council meeting. It recommended that very few men be stationed at the most dangerous places in the realm. The reason for this sparse allocation was hinted at in the next paragraph of the minutes. Councillors agreed that no final decision about payment should be made until the treasurer of England had made a full report of the finances of the kingdom. They urged the king to make a full enquiry into the state of the finances of his household, the income from the royal estates, and all the debts he had incurred since his coronation, including the annuities paid out. Only after these things had been seen to could the king make his expedition like a good Christian prince, they said, with God’s approval, to accomplish the object of his voyage.
Sunday 3rd
With Candlemas over, Henry’s representatives at Constance set about the serious business of their mission. The first objective was to secure the recognition of England as a ‘nation’.
In the fourteenth century, the idea of a ‘nation state’ as we know it did not exist. Europe was made up of kingdoms (such as England and France), independent princedoms, duchies and counties (such as the palatine county of the Rhine, the duchy of Milan, and the duchy of Holland) and, in Italy especially, a number of independent city states, such as Venice and Florence. Some duchies, counties and city states – especially in Austria, Germany, Eastern Europe and the Low Countries – were part of the Holy Roman Empire, governed by the emperor, an elected overlord. The idea of a political ‘nation’, in which the people participated in one single financial, legal and defensive sovereign government, which supposedly ruled in the interests of the entire nation, was only just beginning to develop. The furthest along this line of development was England, which had seen a nationalist programme of reform under Edward III. This extended to parliamentary representation, the promotion of a national language, the adoption of a common law, and nationwide taxation for national defence. Even so, England would not yet have been described as a political ‘nation’ in the language of the time.
The word ‘nation’ did, however, have meaning in ecclesiastical circles. The Italian peninsula might have been made up of many city states, papal states, and the kingdom of Naples and the duchy of Milan, with no single over-arching government, but it was a ‘nation’ in the sense that all its prelates were regarded in the eyes of the Church as being part of the Italian nation. Likewise Spain was regarded as a nation, for the separate kingdoms of Portugal, Castile, Aragon and Navarre all fell geographically within Spain in the eyes of the Church. France – with all its semi-autonomous duchies and counties – constituted a third ecclesiastical nati
on. And the united kingdom of Sweden, Norway and Denmark, and all the states under the titular authority of the Holy Roman Emperor, were regarded as forming the German nation.
The anomaly was the British Isles. Traditionally the kingdoms of England and Scotland were regarded as part of the German nation, and their bishops and abbots sat with their German counterparts. But at the council of Pisa, England had been recognised as a nation in its own right.18 The question was this: did the decision at Pisa constitute an aberration? Or should England be considered a fifth nation?
This was not just a matter of national pride. If England was an ecclesiastical nation, and if voting was to be done by nations, then there were four national votes to be cast at Constance – those of Germany, Italy, France and England. (No delegation from any part of the Spanish nation had yet arrived.) In such circumstances England’s prelates would constitute one whole quarter of the electorate. Henry’s ambassadors would find it much easier to carry out their king’s wishes than those from all the German, Italian and French realms and states, who would first have to persuade the representatives of rival governments before securing the vote of their nation. On the other hand, if England was simply part of the German nation, then Henry’s handful of ambassadors would simply be swallowed up. Henry’s programme of ecclesiastical reform would be very unlikely even to be heard, let alone agreed.
Jacob Cerretano, the Italian papal notary, was clearly bored by the English insistence that England should be recognised as a nation in its own right. He described the discussions on this day as ‘some difficulties raised by the English nation’.19 However, in using that very term, ‘nation’, Cerretano reflected an important point. The English had already taken the matter into their own hands by sitting independently. While the Germans sat in the chapter house of the Franciscan monastery in Constance, the English had established themselves in the refectory. They had thus resolved the issue de facto. Furthermore, as they were soliciting Sigismund for a treaty, and likely to be amenable to his own programme of reform, the emperor saw possible advantages in recognising the English nation as an independent body. No doubt he thought that the English would act as a sidekick to his German prelates, and a counterbalance to the French and Italians present.
1415: Henry V's Year of Glory Page 10
