None of these appointments was in itself unwise; but two worse-matched yokefellows than the justiciar and the chancellor it would have been difficult to find. Hugh of Puiset—or “Pudsey,” as his English flock called him—had stood high in both Church and state ever since the days of the civil war. Through his mother he was a great-grandson of the Conqueror, and thus cousin in no remote degree to Henry Fitz-Empress and Richard Cœur-de-Lion, as well as to Philip of France. We saw him more than forty years ago, as archdeacon and treasurer of York, meeting the ecclesiastical censures of his metropolitan with a retort on equal terms, and wielding not unsuccessfully the weapons both of spiritual and temporal warfare in the cause of his cousin William of York and his uncle Henry of Winchester. Since 1153 he had been bishop of Durham; certainly not an ideal successor of S. Cuthbert; yet his appointment had been sanctioned by the saintly archbishop Theobald; and throughout his long episcopate he shewed himself by no means ill-fitted, on the whole, for his peculiar position. That position, it must be remembered, had more than that of any other English bishop an important political side. The bishop of Durham was earl palatine of his shire; its whole administration, secular as well as ecclesiastical, was in his hands. His diocesan jurisdiction, again, extended over the whole of Northumberland, and thus brought him into immediate contact with the Scots across the border. His diocese was in fact a great marchland between England and Scotland; he was the natural medium of communication or negotiation between the two realms; and on him depended in no small degree the security of their relations with each other. For such a post it was well to have a strong man, in every sense of the words; and such a man was Hugh of Puiset. His strength was not based solely upon an unscrupulous use of great material and political resources. He was a popular man with all classes; notwithstanding his unclerical ways, he never fell into any ecclesiastical disgrace except with his own metropolitan, for whom he was generally more than a match; and he was one of the very few prelates who managed to steer their way through the Becket quarrel without either damaging their reputation as sound churchmen or forfeiting the confidence of Henry II. His intrigues with the Scot king and the rebel barons in 1174 failed so completely and so speedily that Henry found it scarcely worth while to punish them in any way; and on the other hand, Hugh’s position was already so independent and secure that he himself never found it worth while to renew them. In his own diocese, whatever he might be as a pastor of souls, he was a vigorous and on the whole a beneficent as well as magnificent ruler; the men of the county palatine grumbled indeed at his extravagance and at the occasional hardships brought upon them by his inordinate love of the chase, but they were none the less proud of his splendid buildings, his regal state, and his equally regal personality. His appearance and manners corresponded with his character and his rank; he was tall in stature, dignified in bearing, remarkably attractive in look, eloquent and winning in address.[1401] Moreover, he had lived so long in England, and all his interests had so long been centred there, that for all practical purposes, social as well as political, he was a thorough Englishman—certainly far more of an Englishman than his young English-born cousin, King Richard. For the last eight years, indeed, he had held in the north much the same position as had belonged in earlier times to the archbishops of York; for the northern province had been without a metropolitan ever since the death of Roger of Pont-l’Evêque in November 1181,[1402] and the supreme authority, ecclesiastical as well as secular, had thus devolved upon the bishop of Durham. He was now threatened with the loss of this pre-eminence; but he had no intention of giving it up without a struggle, in which his chances of success were at least as good as those of his rival the archbishop-elect; and whatever the result might be with respect to his ecclesiastical independence, he had secured a formidable counterpoise to the primate’s territorial influence by his purchase of Northumberland, which made him sole head, under the Crown, of the civil administration of the whole country between the Tweed and the Tees.

Alike in himself and in his antecedents Hugh of Puiset was the very antithesis to William of Longchamp. William had nothing of the stately presence and winning aspect which distinguished the bishop of Durham; on the contrary, he laboured under personal disadvantages which should have entitled him to sympathy, but which one of his political opponents was heartless enough to caricature, after his fall, in order to make him an object of vulgar contempt and disgust. His stature was diminutive, his countenance swarthy and ill-favoured, his figure mis-shapen, and he was moreover very lame.[1403] His origin was as lowly as his person. His father was a certain Hugh of Longchamp who in 1156 received from the king a grant of lands in Herefordshire,[1404] and about the time of the barons’ revolt was fermor of the honour of Conches in Normandy.[1405] His grandfather was said to have been a French serf who had fled from the justice of his lord and found a refuge in the Norman village whence his descendants took their name.[1406] In Henry’s latter years Hugh of Longchamp was deep in debt and disgrace,[1407] and his six sons had to make their way in the world as best they could under the shadow of the king’s displeasure.[1408] William, whose physical infirmities must have shut him out from every career save that of a clerk, first appears under the patronage of Geoffrey the chancellor, as his official in one of his many pieces of Church preferment, the archdeaconry of Rouen.[1409] The king, however, remonstrated strongly with his son on the danger of associating with a man whom he declared to be “a traitor, like his father and mother before him.”[1410] The end of his remonstrances was that, shortly before the last outbreak, William fled from Geoffrey to Richard, and, according to one account, became the chief instigator of Richard’s rebellion.[1411] However this may be, it is certain that Richard, while still merely duke of Aquitaine, employed William as his chancellor,[1412] and that he was not only so well satisfied with his services as to retain him in the same capacity after his accession to the crown, but had formed such a high opinion of his statesmanship and his fidelity as to make him his chief political adviser and confidant. Richard, like his father, was constant in his friendships, and very unwilling to discard those to whom he had once become really attached; his trust in William remained unshaken to the end of his life, and in some respects it was not misplaced. William seems to have been thoroughly loyal to his master, and his energy and industry were as unquestionable as his loyalty. As Richard’s most intimate companion, confidential secretary, and political adviser in foreign affairs, William was in his right place; but he was by no means equally well fitted to be Richard’s representative in the supreme government and administration of England. He had the primary disqualification of being a total stranger to the land, its people and its ways. Most likely he had never set foot in England till he came thither with Richard in 1189; he was ignorant of the English tongue;[1413] his new surroundings were thoroughly distasteful to him; and as he was by no means of a cautious or conciliatory temper, he expressed his contempt and dislike of them in a way which was resented not only by the people, but even by men whose origin and natural speech were scarcely more English than his own.[1414] He had in short every qualification for becoming an extremely unpopular man, and he behaved as if he desired no other destiny. The nation at large soon learned to return his aversion and to detest him as a disagreeable stranger; his colleagues in the administration despised him as an upstart interloper; the justiciar, in particular, keenly resented his own virtual subordination to one whom he naturally regarded as his inferior in every way.[1415] It was sound policy on Richard’s part to place a check upon Hugh of Durham; and it was not unnatural that he should select his chancellor for that purpose. The seven happiest years of Henry Fitz-Empress had been the years during which another chancellor had wielded a power almost as great as that which Richard intrusted to William of Longchamp. But, on the other hand, any one except Richard might have seen at a glance that of all statesmen living, William of Longchamp was well-nigh the least fitted to reproduce the career of Thomas of London.

The king left England on December 11.[1416] William was consecrated, together with Richard Fitz-Nigel, on December 31,[1417] and on the feast of the Epiphany he was enthroned at Ely.[1418] Immediately afterwards he began to assert his temporal authority. At a meeting of the Court of Exchequer the bishop of Durham was turned out by the chancellor’s orders; presently after he was deprived of his jurisdiction over Northumberland. Soon after this, Bishop Godfrey of Winchester was dispossessed not merely of his sheriffdom and castles, but even of his own patrimony.[1419] For this last spoliation there is no apparent excuse; that a man should hold a sheriffdom together with a bishopric was, however, contrary alike to Church discipline and to sound temporal policy; and the non-recognition of Hugh’s purchase of Northumberland might be yet further justified by the fact that the purchase-money was not yet paid.[1420] In February 1190 Richard summoned his mother, his brothers and his chief ministers to a final meeting in Normandy;[1421] the chancellor, knowing that complaints against him would be brought before the king, hurried over in advance of his colleagues, to justify himself before he was accused,[1422] and he succeeded so well that Richard not only sent him back to England after the council with full authority to act as chief justiciar as well as chancellor,[1423] but at the same time opened negotiations with Rome to obtain for him a commission as legate[1424]—an arrangement which, the archbishop of Canterbury being bound on crusade like the king, would leave William supreme both in Church and state.

The new justiciar’s first act on his return was to fortify the Tower of London;[1425] his next was to punish a disturbance which had lately occurred at York. During the last six months the long-suppressed hatred which the Jews inspired had broken forth into open violence. The first pretext had been furnished by a misunderstanding on the coronation-day. Richard, who had some very strict ideas about the ceremonials of religion, had given orders that no Jew should approach him on that solemn occasion; in defiance or ignorance of the prohibition, some rich Jews came to offer gifts to the new sovereign; the courtiers and the people seized the excuse to satisfy at once their greed and their hatred; the unwelcome visitors were driven away, robbed, beaten, some even slain;[1426] and the rage of their enemies, once let loose, spent itself throughout the night in a general sack of the Jewish quarter. Richard, engaged at the coronation-banquet, knew nothing of what had happened till the next day,[1427] when he did his best to secure the ringleaders, and punished them severely.[1428] When he was gone, however, the spark thus kindled burst forth into a blaze in all the chief English cities in succession, Winchester being almost the sole exception.[1429] Massacres of Jews took place at Norwich on February 6, at Stamford on March 7, at S. Edmund’s on March 18, Palm Sunday.[1430] A day before this last, a yet worse tragedy had occurred at York. The principal Jews of that city, in dread of a popular attack, had sought and obtained shelter in one of the towers of the castle, under the protection of its constable and the sheriff of Yorkshire.[1431] Once there, they refused to give it up again; whereupon the constable and the sheriff called out all the forces of city and shire to dislodge them. After twenty-four hours’ siege the Jews offered to ransom themselves by a heavy fine; but the blood of the citizens was up, and they rejected the offer. The Jews, in desperation, resolved to die by their own hands rather than by those of their Gentile enemies; the women and children were slaughtered by their husbands and fathers, who flung the corpses over the battlements or piled them up in the tower, which they fired.[1432] Nearly five hundred Jews perished in the massacre or the flames;[1433] and the citizens and soldiers, baulked of their expected prey, satiated their greed by sacking and burning all the Jewish houses and destroying the bonds of all the Jewish usurers in the city.[1434] At the end of April or the beginning of May[1435] the new justiciar came with an armed force to York to investigate this affair. The citizens threw the whole blame upon the castellan and the sheriff; William accordingly deposed them both.[1436] As the castle was destroyed, he probably thought it needless to appoint a new constable until it should be rebuilt; for the sheriff—John, elder brother of William the Marshal—he at once substituted his own brother Osbert.[1437] Most of the knights who had been concerned in the tumult had taken care to put themselves out of his reach; their estates were, however, mulcted and their chattels seized;[1438] and the citizens only escaped by paying a fine[1439] and giving hostages who were not redeemed till three years later, when all thought of further proceedings in the matter had been given up.[1440] Even the clergy of the minster had their share of punishment, although for a different offence: William, though his legatine commission had not yet arrived, claimed already to be received as legate, and put the church under interdict until his claim was admitted.[1441]

For the moment William’s power was undisputed even in the north; for Hugh of Durham was still in Gaul. Now, however, there came a notice from the king that he was about to send Hugh back to England as justiciar over the whole country north of the Humber.[1442] Hugh himself soon afterwards arrived, and hurried northward, in the hope, it seems, of catching the chancellor on the further side of the Humber and thus compelling him to acknowledge his inferiority.[1443] In this hope he was disappointed; they met at Blyth in Nottinghamshire.[1444] Hugh, impetuous in old age as in youth, talked somewhat too much as the chancellor had acted—“as if all the affairs of the realm were dependent on his nod.”[1445] At last, however, he produced the commission from Richard upon which his pretensions were founded;[1446] and William, who could read between the lines of his royal friend’s letters, saw at once that he had little to fear.[1447] He replied simply by expressing his readiness to obey the king’s orders,[1448] and proposing that all further discussion should be adjourned to a second meeting a week later at Tickhill. There Hugh found the tables turned. The chancellor had reached the place before him; the bishop’s followers were shut out from the castle; he was admitted alone into the presence of his rival, who, without giving him time to speak, put into his hands another letter from Richard, bidding all his English subjects render service and obedience to “our trusty and well-beloved chancellor, the bishop of Ely,” as they would to the king himself. The letter was dated June 6—some days, if not weeks, later than Hugh’s credentials;[1449] and it seems to have just reached William together with his legatine commission, which was issued on the previous day.[1450] He gave his rival no time even to think. “You had your say at our last meeting; now I will have mine. As my lord the king liveth, you shall not quit this place till you have given me hostages for the surrender of all your castles. No protests! I am not a bishop arresting another bishop; I am the chancellor, arresting his supplanter.”[1451] Hugh was powerless; yet he let himself be dragged all the way to London before he would yield. Then he gave up the required hostages,[1452] and submitted to the loss of all his lately-purchased honours—Windsor, Newcastle, Northumberland, even the manor of Sadberge which he had bought of the king for his see[1453]—everything, in short, except his bishopric. For that he set out as soon as he was liberated; but at his manor of Howden he was stopped by the chancellor’s orders, forbidden to proceed further, and again threatened with forcible detention. He promised to remain where he was, gave security for the fulfilment of his promise, and then wrote to the king his complaints of the treatment which he had received.[1454] All the redress that he could get, however, was a writ commanding that Sadberge should be restored to him at once and that he should suffer no further molestation.[1455]