by Ian Mortimer
Edward's plans for his fourth surviving son, Edmund, were concentrated on the Low Countries, and in particular Flanders. His idea was that Edmund should marry the daughter and heiress of Count Louis of Flanders, but in order for this to happen, he needed to persuade the pope. In 1362 Pope Innocent VI died, to be replaced by the pious and studious abbot of Marseilles, who became Urban V Even this most conscientious of religious leaders was unable to overlook the fact that it would be much more in France's interest for the heiress of Flanders to marry a French rather than an English prince, and so Edward's plans were thwarted over and over again.
Edward's fifth son, Thomas, was still young, only seven in 1362, and as yet remained outside Edward's pan-European dynastic ambitions. His last daughter, Isabella, also remained outside his scheme. Her role would of course lie in being a bride to a ruler rather than taking a role in government. Edward had proposed a series of matches for her, but none had succeeded. The count of Flanders had at one point been about to marry her but that had fallen through. Then, in 1351, at the age of nineteen, she had simply refused to go through with a marriage to Bernard, the heir of the Gascon Lord Albret. It was her own decision. Edward had declared his readiness that she - 'our very dear eldest daughter, whom we have loved with special affection' - should marry the heir, but she refused to embark on the boat waiting to take her to Gascony. Extraordinarily, Edward did not hold this against her. Later in the 1350s he gave her annuities and rewards, and she was more constantly with him than any of his other children. It seems that she was set on a love-match, like her elder brother. In 1365, aged thirty-three, she finally chose Enguerrand de Coucy, a lord in England as a hostage for the fulfilment of the Treaty of Bretigny. Edward acquiesced to her desire, and generously endowed de Coucy with a tide and made him a Knight of the Garter, but Enguerrand's heart never lay in England, and, once the initial passion with Isabella had worn off, they separated. He went to fight in Italy and she remained with her two daughters at her father's court in England.
On 13 November 1362 Edward finally celebrated his fiftieth birthday. To mark the occasion he summoned a parliament, almost entirely consisting of commoners. He issued a general pardon to wrongdoers throughout the realm in commemoration of his jubilee. More importantly for the petitioners present, Edward granted a new Statute of Purveyance. In it, all requisitioning of goods for the use of the royal household was done away with except that expressly for the king and queen. The tide 'purveyor' was removed also, being changed to 'buyer'. This more clearly emphasised that people should be paid for the goods seized at the time they were requisitioned. In addition, restrictions were placed on the buyers for the royal household, rendering them liable to arrest if their behaviour was not deemed to be up to standard. Edward obviously intended this legislation to be a gift to his people. Likewise his confirmation that a parliament should be held every year. The same benevolent intention lay behind his promises that royal officers (escheators) who took wards' estates into royal custody should not charge fees, that fines for breaking the Statute of Labourers should be handed over to parliament, and that the subsidy of wool would not constitute a precedent for indirect taxation in peacetime. Whether or not the representatives at Edward's jubilee parliament were grateful we cannot say, but the legislation flowed, and it flowed in the commons' favour.
The 1362 parliament is today remembered for one piece of legislation above all others: 'pleas shall be pleaded in the English tongue and enrolled in Latin'. This is the first piece of legislation which officially recognised the English language. Since the eleventh century the language of the nobility had been French, and the language of the courts had generally been French, translated into Latin for the permanent record. As this new legislation now recognised, it was not right that men and women should be tried in a tongue they did not understand. But its significance was more than just fairness. The Statute of Pleading, as it was called, gave official recognition to English. It was described as the 'Tongue of the Country', and was thus accorded the status of a national language. In doing this, Edward recognised that a great change was taking place. Whereas in 1300 almost no one of importance in England spoke English - it being very definitely the language of the peasantry - by 1400 almost everyone of importance did speak English. Edward himself spoke it and used it in his mottoes. The duke of Lancaster spoke it. Edward's grandson, Edward of York, translated Gaston Phoebus's treatise on hunting into English.27 In 1362 John Wycliffe — the man who first translated the New Testament into English - was Master of Balliol College. His opponent, the gifted Simon Langham - abbot of Westminster, archbishop of Canterbury from 1366, and in turn both Chancellor and Treasurer — spoke English. Chaucer — the first great poet since Saxon times to write in the English language -was in royal service. Strikingly, from this date on until the end of the reign, parliament was addressed at its opening in English (three times by Langham). By the 1380s English had supplanted French as the language used in grammar schools. English was coming to the fore, and one of the reasons for its speedy rise was its patronage and use by eminent men, including the king's ministers and members of the English royal family.
Just before the end of the parliament, on the actual day of his birthday, Edward promoted his second, third and fourth sons to new, high tides. Lionel became duke of Clarence, in reference to his inheritance of the Clare estates, which, combined with the earldom of Ulster, made him by far the greatest landowner in Ireland. John became duke of Lancaster, acquiring the tide of Edward's late general as well as his estates. And Edmund became earl of Cambridge. And of course there was a great feast. On his fiftieth birthday Edward revelled in his great fortune by sharing a little of it out amongst his children, his friends and his people.
At Edward's birth, the author of the Life of Edward the Second had expressed the hope that Edward would 'follow the industry of King Henry the second, the well-known valour of King Richard, reach the age of King Henry [the third], revive the wisdom of King Edward [the first] and remind us of the physical strength and comeliness of his father'. On his fiftieth birthday Edward could be said to have fulfilled all of the chronicler's hopes for him except reaching the age of Henry III (who lived to sixty-five). But if he looked in the mirror, what did he see? A man at the height of his royal authority, groomed to look the part, admired, famous and feared by his enemies; but also a man who had now achieved his life's ambitions. The eyes were still bright, the face was still handsome and the mind was still strong, but there was nothing left to yearn for.
It would be too soon in an evaluation of Edward's life to say that his regnal authority was weakening. In the mid-136os that authority was stronger than ever. But the key thread of his kingship - his vision of what kingship could and should be, which had given his life and reign such meaning and dynamism - was now all but extinguished. This has nothing to do with failure, and much to do with success. Edward in 1365 resembled the self-penned character portrait of the late duke of Lancaster. Years before he had danced and tourneyed with the best of them but now he resisted all but the occasional passing fancy. Once he had yearned for victories and accolades; now he preferred to feast himself on salmon and strong sauces, and to drink Gascon wine to join in the merriment of the court feasts. Where were the men with whom he used to drink, laugh and urge on to glory? Where were William Montagu, Reginald Cobham, Thomas Dagworth and the earls of Huntingdon, Northampton and Lancaster? Even the friends who were still alive were not with him now. They were old and retired, gone to their estates to tell tales of their glory days.
The cruelty of kingship gradually became apparent to Edward. His vassals - even the heroes among them - could grow old, withdraw from society, and die in relative peace. But not him; not the king. Too much depended on him. Edward could not grow old without growing weak, and if he grew weak, then England grew weak. Any of his earls could gracefully decline to joust, and claim middle age as an excuse. The king had to be seen still to be prepared for war and to risk his life, if need be. It was incongruous
, especially now that he was in his fifties and growing fatter. A favourite red velvet belt with gold and pearls had to be sent back to his tailor in 1363 to be made larger. New war armour was made for him in the same year. Edward wanted little to do with stratagems, war, the pope, or any other challenge. He had earned a little peace, surely? He wanted to complete his great buildings, to spend time with Philippa, to listen to his minstrels, to hear the chiming of his clocks, to look at his paintings, to show off his jewels, to hunt in summer and to loose his falcons in winter, and to be rowed in the royal barge down to Sheppey where his new castle was being built for him.
This sudden decline of ambition may be attributed to Edward's age, or his changing nature, but we should also consider his state of health. As mentioned in a previous chapter, this is a particularly difficult subject area. For instance, we cannot simply rely on occasional payments for medicines to know when he was ill. Edward maintained a permanent medical staff as a part of his household, and so most medical functions would have fallen within the scope of their regular duties, requiring no extra payments. Similarly we cannot assume from the continued activity of government that Edward was physically well. Most work was delegated, and what was not depended only on the king's ability to issue an order, he did not necessarily have to get out of bed. But there is one way we can make a rough estimate of Edward's state of health: we can assess how many medical practitioners Edward was employing from outside his household. Often these men were not employed but rewarded, and through tracing these rewards and gifts we do get an idea of how many 'second opinions' were being sought on his medical condition. Apart from the 1349-50 plague year, no practitioner was rewarded as a second 'king's physician' until the years 1364-67, when John Paladyn and John Glaston were both recorded in this capacity. A second physician seems to have been employed regularly in the period 1368-70 and several were employed in the 1370s. As for surgeons, there are various payments to non-household surgeons in 1359, 1362 and from 1368 to his death. It would appear safest to conclude that Edward's health was already suffering, perhaps intermittently, from 1363-64 if not earlier.
If Edward was indeed ill as early as 1363 he was not letting it show. No chronicler records his sickness at this time. Nor could he have played the ailing king if he felt inclined; warrior status does not admit of physical weakness. And as the payment for war armour shows, he was still having to play the part of the warrior-king. When in November 1363 he and Philippa played host to three kings — those of France, Cyprus and Scotland - a great tournament was held in their honour at Smithfield: it was simply what was expected. The regularity of royal tournaments may be considered a second check on the king's health. Jousts continued to take place but whereas in 1348 there had been a royal tournament every month, now it was rare for there to be two in a year. Where was the pleasure in patronising events which only showed how much younger and stronger the new crop of inexperienced youthful strangers were? But such events could not be given up entirely. That would be admitting of weakness, and unkingly behaviour.
Edward's favourite pastimes in the 1360s were hunting and falconry, and he now began to spend more time pursuing these. In the early 1350s he had kept a staff of six huntsmen and seven falconers, but in 1360 he and Philippa maintained thirty-one huntsmen and twenty-three falconers, and it is unlikely that the total number engaged in serving their hunting activities dropped below thirty for the rest of the decade. There were hunting parks attached to most of the royal houses and castles. Edward spent about £80 per year on his hunting dogs alone. He kept fifty or sixty birds of prey - gerfalcons, goshawks, tiercels and lannerets - at his mews, near Charing. When we consider the cost of obtaining the birds in the first place, and then feeding them at a rate of at least a penny a day, and the wages of the many keepers and trainers, and their official robes, Edward's expenditure on hunting can be totalled at around £600 each year, an average baron's annual income. In 1367-68 he spent this sum on his falcons alone. This was much more than other medieval English kings, and much more than he himself spent in earlier and later decades.
It is perhaps in parliament that we can most clearly detect the lessening of political ambition. After the generous and ground-breaking legislation of 1362, that of the 1363 parliament was highly conservative. Edward attempted to set prices for goods, trying to legislate against inflation. He and his officials set down in codified laws exactly what a servant was allowed to wear and eat, and what craftsmen and yeomen were allowed, what lesser gentlemen and their wives and families were allowed, and what merchants, knights, clergymen and ploughmen were allowed. This second sumptuary law was futile, but it shows the conservatism of Edward's mind in the mid-i36os. This was simply how he and his advisers (who drafted the legislation) believed society should be, in a hierarchical ladder from the king down to the servants. At the same time as he was legislating that servants and people of low status could not wear silk or furs, or any embroidered material, he himself was paying hundreds of pounds for the most lavishly embroidered and fur-trimmed clothes. While stipulating that husbandmen should eat no more than two dishes per day, he ordered that eight dishes were to be set before him at every mealtime, and five before the lords with him, three before his gentlemen, and two before his grooms. Even if one takes the view that he was trying to encourage moderation of the ranks of society who felt bound to compete with each other, buying finer clothes than they needed and feasting to excess, his policy of restraint has to be seen as conservative.
Even more telling was the parliament of 1364. It never happened. Although Edward had agreed as recently as his fiftieth birthday that a parliament would take place annually, the meeting due to take place in his thirty-seventh year on the throne did not actually meet until 20 January 1365, four days before the end of the regnal year. Moreover it continued over into the next regnal year, and so Edward managed to avoid having to hold another until May 1366, and that was a brief meeting in which legislation was not discussed. In 1367 he declined to summon a parliament at all, so no more statutes were enrolled until May 1368. This is hardly a sign of eagerness on Edward's part to engage with parliament, or to use the petitions to address the needs and complaints of his people. And some of the legislation that he did pass was strategically self-defeating. Over the course of 1363-65 he renewed his attempts to establish monopolies for trade. In 1364 he tried to reverse the legislation of 1361 providing for the judicial powers of JPs.41 And he renewed his attack upon the pope. Although Urban V was probably the most pious of all the French pontiffs, Edward's frustration over his failure to grant permission for the marriages of his sons made him reissue the Statutes of Praemunire and Provisors in January 1365, ending any chance he had of coaxing Urban V to compromise over the war. Urban finally gave in to Edward's demands that there should be an English cardinal, and awarded Simon Langham a red cap in 1368, but this was due to Urban's judgement, not Edward's pressure. Edward in fact complained about the appointment.
It was not that Edward had suddenly turned into a neglectful king, it was simply that the ambition to be a better king was no longer there. The emphasis had turned from the king seeking success to one whose measure of success was simply to get through each day in a kingly fashion, and to enjoy himself if he had the chance. As a result, he wanted nothing much to change politically. It was in this spirit that he ordained that every man should practise with the longbow. It made perfect sense to encourage the English to continue their domination of projectile-based warfare, but Edward's motive was to ensure that things stayed as they had been in 1346. In 1366, he authorised the Statute of Kilkenny, negotiated by his son Lionel, by which Ireland was divided between those whom Edward wanted to command and those who were beyond English control. Again, in the circumstances this was sensible, but it marked the introduction of a policy of conservatism. The young Edward would have personally tried to bring the whole country under his control. This conservatism did not necessarily lead to bad legislation. In one statute passed at this time, Edward ordered that
all goldsmiths had to identify their works with their own specific maker's mark, the origin of the hallmark. We have reason to be grateful; but the motivation was essentially conservative, to keep things as they had been in his heyday.
Edward was not just resting on his laurels, he was preparing to retire on them. He usually confined his movements to the area of the Thames, travelling by the royal barge. One of the reasons for this mode of transport was probably his own declining health. Another was undoubtedly Philippa's medical condition. From 1365 grants made in her name made provision for the eventuality of her dying before the grantee, and her suffering was probably so great in 1365 that she could not travel easily except by barge and litter.43 It may be that she never properly recovered from the injuries sustained when falling from a horse while hunting with Edward in the summer of 1358; she was making preparations for her tomb as early as 1362. In 1366 the king's own health took a turn for the worse. Payments were made to an apothecary by the king's physician for medicines for him. That summer he left his household for long periods at Windsor Castle and spent considerable lengths of time quietly at his hunting lodges in the New Forest with Philippa, receiving special visitors - such as 'the son of the king of India' - but otherwise laying low, avoiding too much pomp.
