In spite of his faults we may fairly assume that the king's imprisonment had aroused a popular reaction in his favour, as it did in the case of Charles I., five centuries later. The experiences also of the summer had been greatly in his favour. For, however unfit he may have been to fill the throne himself, he was able now to point to the fact that his rival had been tried and found wanting.

He would now be eager to efface the stain inflicted on his regal dignity, to show in the sight of all men that he was again their king, and then to execute vengeance on those whose captive he had been. The first step to be taken was to assemble a council of the realm that should undo the work of the April council at Winchester, and formally recognize in him the rightful possessor of the throne. This council met on the 7th of December at Westminster, the king himself being present.[433] The ingenious legate was now as ready to prove that his brother, and not the Empress, should rightly fill the throne, as, we saw, he was in April to prove the exact reverse. The two grounds on which he based his renunciation were, first, that the Empress had failed to fulfil her pledges to the Church;[434] second, that her failure implied the condemnation of God.[435]

A solemn coronation might naturally follow, to set, as it were, the seal to the work of this assembly. Perhaps the nearest parallel to this second coronation is to be found in that of Richard I., in 1194, after his captivity and humiliation.[436] I think we have evidence that Stephen himself looked on this as a second coronation, and as no mere "crown-wearing," in a precept in favour of the monks of Abingdon, in which he alludes incidentally to the day of his first coronation.[437] This clearly implies a second coronation since; and as the precept is attested by Richard de Luci, it is presumably subsequent to that second coronation, to which we now come.

It cannot be wondered that this event has been unnoticed by historians, for it is only recorded in a single copy of the works of a single chronicler. We are indebted to Dr. Stubbs and his scholarly edition of the writings of Gervase of Canterbury for our knowledge of the fact that in one, and that comparatively imperfect, of the three manuscripts on which his text is based, we read of a coronation of Stephen, at Canterbury, "placed under 1142." We learn from him that in this MS. "it is probably inserted in a wrong place," as indeed is evident from the fact that at Christmas, 1142, Stephen was at Oxford. Here is the passage in question:—

"Deinde rex Stephanus una cum regina et nobilitate procerum ad Natale Domini gratiosus adveniens, in ipsa solempnitate in ecclesiâ Christi a venerabili Theobaldo ejusdem ecclesiæ archiepiscopo coronatus est; ipsa etiam regina cum eo ibidem coronam auream gestabat in capite" (Gervase, i. 123).

It should perhaps be noticed that, while the Queen is merely said to have worn her crown, Stephen is distinctly stated to have been crowned. I cannot but think that this must imply a distinction between them, and supports the view that this coronation was due to the captivity of the king.

My contention is that the date of this event was Christmas, 1141, and that the choice, for its scene, of the Kentish capital was a graceful compliment to that county which, in the darkest hour of the king's fortunes, had remained faithful to his cause, and to the support of which his restoration had been so largely due.[438]

I further hold that the second charter granted to Geoffrey de Mandeville was executed on this occasion, and that in its witnesses we have the list of that "nobilitas procerum" by which, according to Gervase, this coronation was attended.

This charter, when rightly dated, is indeed the keystone of my story. For without it we could not form that series on which the sequence of events is based. It is admittedly subsequent to the king's liberation, for it refers to the battle of Lincoln. It must also be previous to Geoffrey's death in 1144. These are the obvious limits given in the official calendar.[439] But it must further be previous to Geoffrey's fall in 1143. Lastly, it must be previous to the Oxford, or second, charter of the Empress, in which we shall find it is referred to. As that charter cannot be later than the summer of 1142, our limit is again narrowed. Now the charter is tested at Canterbury. Stephen cannot, it seems, have been there in the course of 1142. This accordingly leaves us, as the only possible date, the close of 1141; and this is the very date of the king's coronation at Canterbury. When we add to this train of reasoning the fact that the number of earls by whom the charter is witnessed clearly points to some great state ceremonial, we cannot feel the slightest doubt that the charter must, as I observed, have passed on this occasion. With this conclusion its character will be found in complete accordance, for it plainly represents the price for which the traitor earl consented to change sides again, and to place at the disposal of his outraged king that Tower of London, its citadel and its dread, the possession of which once more enabled him to dictate his own terms.

Those terms were that, in the first place, he should forfeit nothing for his treason in having joined the cause of the Empress, and should be confirmed in his possession of all that he held before the king's capture. But his demands far exceeded the mere status quo ante. Just as he had sold his support to the Empress when she gave him an advance on Stephen's terms, so the Queen must have brought him back by offering terms, at the crisis of the struggle, in excess even of those which he had just wrung from the Empress. He would now insist that these great concessions should be confirmed by the king himself. Such is the explanation of the strange character of this Canterbury charter.