In the time of the "magnificent" bishop, Lincoln was the scene of stirring events, in which the minster played a curious part. The lamentable war between Stephen and Matilda produced a miserable state of confusion and bloodshed in every corner of the land. The strong castle of Lincoln was seized by William de Roumara, Earl of Lincoln, and Ranulph, Earl of Chester, and held for Matilda. The citizens and Bishop Alexander sent word to the king, who hastened to their relief. The king's eye fell on the massive walls of the minster, in such a convenient position opposite the stronghold of the earls. The sacred fabric was seized, and, according to William of Malmesbury, garrisoned as a fortress. Such a proceeding could bring no good fortune to the king, and omens of evil soon followed. As he offered a wax candle in the minster, Henry of Huntingdon tells us, it broke just when Bishop Alexander was about to take it. The chain too, by which the pyx was suspended, snapped asunder, and the sacred vessel fell, in the presence of the bishop. The decisive contest took place soon after; Stephen was left a captive in the hands of his enemies, and the city was taken and plundered. Two years before these events, in 1139, Alexander and his uncle Roger, bishop of Salisbury, had been treacherously seized by the king, and deprived of their treasures and castles. Roger died insane at the end of the same year, and Alexander regained his liberty on resigning his castles.
In 1144 Stephen was again at Lincoln, besieging the castle, where his enemies repulsed every attack. Two years later, at Christmas time, the king appeared crowned within the city, in defiance of an ancient superstition which foretold evil to any English sovereign who should do so. Eleven years after, Henry II. out of deference to this tradition, was crowned outside the walls, in the suburb of Wikeford. In 1167, on the death of Bishop Chesney, the king seized the revenues, and the see remained vacant for many years. A prophecy that it would never again be filled seemed likely to prove true, when Geoffrey Plantagenet, a natural son of the king, was elected in 1173. He was never consecrated, and resigned nine years later. During his term of office, Geoffrey gave to the minster "two great sonorous bells," which were probably hung in one of the western towers.
The fabric of the church is considered to have remained as left by Alexander until the year 1185. On the 15th April of this year occurred the great earthquake mentioned by Roger de Hoveden. He tells us that it was felt throughout almost the whole of England, and was of such a severity as had not been known in the land "ab initio mundi." The minster was cleft from the top to the bottom.
The disasters of this year were more than compensated in the next, when a man was consecrated to the bishopric who has left a name as great as any that figure in the ecclesiastical history of England. St. Hugh of Lincoln was a son of a Lord of Avalon, near Grenoble. At an early age he entered a priory, a dependency of the cathedral church of Grenoble, and near his father's castle and land. About 1160 he was received into the Grand Chartreuse, where he became eventually the procurator or bursar. Henry II. of England, hearing of his fame, sent the bishop of Bath and other ambassadors to the great Carthusian monastery, begging that Hugh should come to England, and take charge of the newly-established monastery of the Carthusians at Witham in Somersetshire. The prior was not at all inclined to part with Hugh, but the matter was settled by the bishop of Grenoble, and Hugh crossed over to England.
At Witham Hugh became a great favourite with the king, who, about ten years after his arrival in this country, offered him the vacant bishopric of Lincoln. The prior was not, however, dazzled by the prospect of a bishop's mitre, and the king had to tax his persuasive powers before he could induce him to exchange Witham for Lincoln. When once installed, Hugh, like Thomas of Canterbury, soon made it clear that he would become no tool in the hands of the king. Henry's chief forester was excommunicated for an offence against the church, and Hugh refused to bestow a vacant prebend on a courtier recommended by the king. The bishop was summoned to the royal presence, Henry instructing his courtiers not to salute him when he entered. Hugh found the king sewing a bandage round a wounded finger, and apparently so occupied as not to notice his approach. The bishop, not at all disconcerted, made some witty remark about the king reminding him of his ancestor of Falaise; whereupon Henry burst into laughter, and explained the joke to his courtiers. In the year 1198, in a council held at Oxford, Hugh and the bishop of Salisbury stood alone in opposing a grant for the king's foreign wars; "the saint of Lincoln, grown into an Englishman on English ground, spoke up for the laws and rights of Englishmen." Richard was furious, and ordered the confiscation of his property; but Hugh stood firm, and the king at last gave way. Yet this dignified assertion of his rights was not accompanied by an arrogant spirit. The miracles which, in an ignorant and superstitious age, were attributed to many who had a reputation for piety, were strenuously disclaimed by him. Such was the man who, in 1186, became bishop of the vast diocese of Lincoln.