THE DEATH AND CHARACTER OF HENRY I.
Source.—Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, ed. Arnold, p. 253. (Rolls Series.)
In the thirty-fifth year King Henry stayed continuously in Normandy, and though destined never to return, he often purposed to return to England; but his daughter detained him through constant quarrels arising from many causes by her intrigues between the king and the count of Anjou. These vexations irritated the king to anger and bitterness, which resulted, some say, in a natural torpor, and afterwards, it is thought, caused his death. At any rate, on his return from hunting at St. Denis in the Forêt des Lions, he ate a dish of lampreys, of which he was always fond, though they always disagreed with him. A physician had forbidden him to eat them, but the king ignored his sound advice on the poet’s principles—
“Ever we strive against the law,
And love to taste forbidden fruit.”
So this meal brought on an evil humour and was followed by the old violent symptoms, which resulted in a complete collapse, his aged frame sinking into a deadly lethargy, the natural struggle of his constitution provoked an acute fever in the effort to throw off the poison in his system, but his powers of resistance failing, the great king died on 1 December after a reign of thirty-five years and three months....
On the death of the great king Henry, his character was freely discussed by the people, as is usual in the case of the departed. Some asserted that three splendid gifts especially distinguished him; supreme wisdom, for he was profound in counsel, acutely farseeing and brilliant in speech; success in war, for apart from other famous exploits he overcame the king of France in battle; and wealth, in which he far surpassed all his predecessors. Others, however, took a different point of view, and urged that he was tainted by three vices; avarice, because, like all his house, though rich, he impoverished the poor with taxes and exactions, and snared them in the toils of the informer; cruelty also, because he put out the eyes of his kinsman, the count of Moretuil, when in captivity (this horrible crime could not be known until death laid bare the king’s secret acts), and other instances also were alleged, of which I say nothing; and excess also.... Such was the common division of opinion. But in the terrible time that followed, amid the savage anarchy of the Norman traitors, all that Henry had done, whether as king or despot, seemed more than excellent in comparison with worse evil.