William, called FitzOsbert, and sometimes William Longbeard, was the grandson of a certain Osbert, one of the Aldermen who, in 1125, had given to the Priory of the Holy Trinity, with the King’s permission, the lands belonging to the Cnihten Guild.
He was, therefore, by birth one of the governing class, whose abuses he attacked. He was also, it would seem from the first episode in his life which has come down to us, of a nature easily moved and imaginative, and, like his grandfather, disposed to piety. Such a mind belongs to the man who instinctively hates injustice and oppression.
Most of the chroniclers who tell the story belong to the other side, and, therefore, charge him with everything that they dare: the crimes, however, are so vague, such as obscurity of origin, meanness of appearance, ingratitude to a brother, that they mean nothing and may be neglected. I prefer to take the evidence of the historian, Roger de Hoveden, who says as follows:—
“The rich men, sparing their own purses, wanted the poor to pay everything. But a certain lawyer, William FitzOsbert by name, or Long-beard, becoming sensible of this, being inflamed by zeal for justice and equity, became the champion of the poor, it being his wish that every person, both rich as well as poor, should give according to his property and means for all the necessities of the State; and, going across the sea to the King, he demanded his protection for himself and the people.” (Roger de Hoveden’s Annals, vol. ii.)
The facts are few as they have come down to us. But we can learn something about the man. He was, to begin with, a visionary; now it is out of visionaries that martyrs, confessors, and enthusiasts are made. I know that he was a visionary from a little story related of him. He was one of those who took the cross and the vow when King Richard went on his crusade, and sailed in the fleet which contained the London and the Dartmouth Crusaders whose intention was to fight the Infidels. This fact points in the direction of an emotional temperament easily moved to enthusiasm. The fleet was becalmed in the Bay of Biscay. Thereupon, William FitzOsbert, with one Geoffrey, a goldsmith, prayed to St. Thomas à Becket—the newly canonised saint—already considered as the natural protector of London. St. Thomas, to the eyes of faith, answered their prayers in person. He appeared to them. He bade them be of good cheer; he promised a favourable breeze in the morning, after which they should accomplish their vows and return in safety. It must have been a visionary who would actually see the saint and receive his message. In the morning the promised breeze sprang up; the ships proceeded on their course and put in at a Portuguese port. Here they learned that the King of Portugal was in dire straits, being besieged by the Moors with a vast army. The Crusaders resolved upon going to his assistance; among them marched William FitzOsbert, rejoicing in the promise made him by St. Thomas à Becket, that he should perform his vows and should return. In these days he would have said that St. Thomas had need of him in his native town.
The Moors being defeated, the London Crusaders thought they had done their duty in fighting the Infidel, and so returned home.
After this crusade, William made the discovery above described. Now he was not of obscure birth, because he belonged to one of the great City families; his grandfather had been an Alderman, probably his father as well; he was a scholar—one Chronicler calls him a lawyer; he was a man of eloquence; he could persuade and carry with him the rude craftsmen of London, whom he gathered together at Paul’s Cross in the name of the old Folk Mote. He found out irregularities of all kinds on the part of the governing class. When there was neither audit nor scrutiny, irregularities were inevitable. He imparted these discoveries to the King, who listened with attention, and doubtless communicated his views on the subject to the Archbishop of Canterbury, then justiciary. It may be understood, also, that his communications rendered him peculiarly hateful to his own class, the governing body, whom he had deserted. His nickname, Longbeard, denotes his desertion of that class, which affected Norman customs, and either wore no beard or a very small beard. He himself went back to the old Saxon custom, which seems to have been retained by the craftsmen, and grew a long beard.
He left, then, his own people; he was no longer one of the governing class; he joined the party of the craftsmen; to show his change of opinion and of plan, he grew a beard. And we find him a great orator, haranguing the people on their wrongs; calling them together at Paul’s Cross; followed by a crowd who waited on his words; going to the King with proofs of the evil-doing of the Aldermen; getting, at first, the ear of the King, until Richard was set against the reforms by reports against FitzOsbert, such as that he was continually exciting the populace to further discontent. The historians, as has been stated, differ as to William’s real character. Stow, copying some of the Chronicles, says that he was “poor in degree, evil-favoured in shape ... a counterfeit friend to the poor ... a man of evil life, a murderer ... who falsely accused his elder brother of treason....”
