Miracles were observed testifying to the wrath of God. The walls of Ramsey Abbey sweated blood. Men said that Christ and His saints slept. Yet, for their comfort, it was reported that the Lord was still watchful, because, when Geoffrey lay down to rest in the shade, behold! the grass withered away beneath him.
The end came. Happily before long Geoffrey was wounded fighting on the land of the Abbey which he had robbed; he treated his wound lightly; he rode off through Fordham to Mildenhall, and there he lay down and died. He had been excommunicated: he died without absolution; there was no priest among his wild soldiery, and men said openly that no one but the Pope could absolve so great a sinner. His body, enclosed in a leaden coffin, was brought to London by some Templars: they carried it to their orchard in the old Temple (at the north-east corner of Chancery Lane) and there hung it up, so that it should not pollute the ground. And the citizens of London came out to gibe at their dead foe. After twenty years Pope Alexander III. granted absolution, and the body of the great traitor at last found rest. It may be remarked, as regards the lasting hatred of the Londoners, that their enemy, whose unburied body they thus insulted, was only justiciar over them for two years or so. Great must have been his tyranny, many his iniquities, for his memory to stink for more than twenty years.
We know very little of the condition of London at this time: its trade, both export and import, must have been greatly damaged; when the Empress made her demands for money, the citizens had to assure her of their poverty and inability to comply with them; the fire of 1136, which destroyed nearly the whole City, must have involved thousands in ruin; there were factions and parties within the walls. At the same time the City possessed men and arms. London, we have seen, could send out a splendid regiment of a thousand men: not ragamuffins in leathern doublets and armed with pikes, but men in full armour completely equipped.
As regards the power of Geoffrey, it is certain that the free, proud, and independent City, the maker of kings, the possessor of charters which secured all that freemen could desire, must have been deeply humiliated at its new position of dependence upon the caprice of a soldier without honour and without loyalty: but it was only temporary. And yet we find that the City was represented at the Convention of Winchester. It is therefore certain that though London might be stripped of its charters, it had to be reckoned with. At any moment the citizens might close their gates, and then, even if the enemy garrisoned the Tower, it was doubtful whether the whole force that Matilda could command could compel the opening of their gates.
It will be shown immediately that part of Henry’s Charter, that of the possession, at least, of a City justiciar, remained in force during Stephen’s reign. It cannot be proved that the other part of the Charter, which conferred upon the City the right of electing the justiciar and the sheriffs, was also observed. Maitland says that in the year 1139 the citizens bought the right of electing their sheriffs for the sum of one hundred marks of silver. He gives no authority for the statement, of which I find no mention in Stow, Holinshed, Round or Sharpe. It would seem possible in this time of general confusion and continual war for the right to be claimed and exercised without question. It would also seem possible, for exactly the same cause, that the King would sell the right, year by year, or for the whole of his reign.
There is an episode passed over by historians which seems singularly out of place in a time of continual civil war. It is strange that in the year 1147, when all men’s minds in London were presumably watching the uncertain way of war, there should be found citizens who could neglect the anxieties of the time and go off crusading. This, however, actually happened. A small army—say, rather, a reinforcement, of Crusaders, consisting of Englishmen, Germans, and Flemings, sailed in company, bound for Palestine. They were led by Count Arnold of Aerschot, Christian Ghestell, Andrew of London, Vernon of Dover, and Henry Glenville. They put in at Lisbon, and instead of fighting the Saracens in Palestine, joined the Portuguese and fought the Moors at Lisbon. By their aid the city was taken, lost, and retaken. Roger de Hoveden thus comments on the expedition:—
“In the meantime a naval force, headed by no influential men, and relying upon no mighty chieftain, but only on Almighty God, inasmuch as it had set out in a humble spirit, earned the favour of God and manifested great prowess. For, though but few in number, by arms they obtained possession of a famous city of Spain, Lisbon by name, and another, called Almeida, together with the parts adjacent. How true is it that God opposes the proud, but to the humble shows grace! For the army of the king of the Franks and of the emperor was larger and better equipped than the former one, which had gained possession of Jerusalem: and yet they were crushed by a very few, and routed and demolished like webs of spiders: whereas these other poor people, whom I have just mentioned, no multitude could resist, but the greater the numbers that made head against them, the more helpless were they rendered. The greatest part of them had come from England.”
At last, after nineteen years of fighting, peace was made. Stephen was to reign as long as he lived: he was then to be succeeded by Henry. Henry of Huntingdon does justice to the general rejoicing that followed:—
“What boundless joy, what a day of rejoicing, when the king himself led the illustrious young prince through the streets of Winchester, with a splendid procession of bishops and nobles, and amidst the acclamations of the thronging people: for the king received him as his son by adoption, and acknowledged him heir to the crown. From thence he accompanied the king to London, where he was received with no less joy by the people assembled in countless numbers, and by brilliant processions, as was fitting for so great a prince. Thus, through God’s mercy, after a night of misery, peace dawned on the ruined realm of England.”