John Lackland

Within a few months, however, the king again took up his cherished scheme with renewed eagerness and hope. “Lord of Ireland” was the title which John had assumed during his visit to that country,[89] as it was the title by which Henry had claimed authority over the Irish princes; but ever since 1177 Henry had been planning to secure for his son a more definite basis of power, by having him crowned and anointed as king. For this the Pope’s permission was necessary; Alexander III. was said to have granted it,[90] but his grant seems never to have been embodied in a bull, and Lucius III., who succeeded him in 1181, absolutely refused to sanction Henry’s project. When Lucius died, in November 1185, Henry at once despatched an embassy to his successor, Urban III., “and from him he obtained many things which Pope Lucius had strongly resisted; of which things this was one, that whichever of his sons he might choose should be crowned and anointed king of Ireland.”[91] This grant Urban is said to have confirmed by a bull, and by sending to Henry a crown of peacock’s feathers set in gold.[92] Bull and crown were probably brought by two legates who are expressly described as commissioned by Urban as legates for Ireland, “to crown John king of that country.” But these envoys did not reach England till Christmas Eve 1186;[93] and meanwhile, in August, news had come that “a certain Irishman had cut off the head of Hugh de Lacy,” whereupon Henry bade John proceed at once to Ireland and seize Hugh’s vast estates there.[94] John, however, was still in England when the legates arrived; possibly his father detained him on learning that they were actually on their way. But they had no sooner landed than they offended Archbishop Baldwin of Canterbury by wearing their mitres and having their crosses carried before them in his cathedral church; and they repeated the insult in the king’s court, to the great indignation of Baldwin and his suffragans.[95] Under these circumstances it would obviously have been impossible to let them crown John in Baldwin’s province; and if Henry entertained any idea of sending them and John to Ireland together, that the rite might be performed there, he speedily abandoned it. Baldwin, in fact, to rid himself of the legates, advised the king to employ them in France, as mediators in the disputes which were arising between Henry and Philip Augustus out of the death of Geoffrey of Britanny, the minority of Geoffrey’s daughter, and the critical condition of his widow. Henry accepted the suggestion, sent John to Normandy instead of to Ireland,[96] and himself followed with the legates on February 17 (1187).[97]

No pacification between the kings was arrived at, and at Whitsuntide both openly prepared for war. This was the first real war in which John took part; for his attacks upon Aquitaine in 1184 had been mere raids, probably directed by Geoffrey, and it was not under his personal leadership that his mercenaries had fought their losing fight with the Irish in Munster. Now he was appointed to command one of the four bodies into which King Henry divided his host; the other three being entrusted to Richard, Earl William de Mandeville, and Geoffrey the chancellor.[98] The position of these different bodies of troops at the opening of the campaign is obscure. One English authority states that when Philip began the war by laying siege to Châteauroux, Richard and John were both within its walls.[99] A contemporary French historian, however, who was probably better informed, says that when Philip besieged Châteauroux Henry and Richard proceeded together to its relief;[100] and it appears that John accompanied his father and brother, for we are told that “John who is called Lackland, being sent by his father, chanced to be present” when one of Richard’s mercenaries broke off an arm of a statue in the church of Our Lady, whereupon the figure bled as if it were alive; and John picked up the severed arm and carried it off as a holy relic.[101] One contemporary asserts that Richard’s subsequent desertion of his father was owing to Philip’s communicating to him a letter in which Henry proposed that Philip’s sister Adela, Richard’s betrothed, should marry John instead of Richard, and that John should succeed to the whole of his dominions except England and Normandy.[102] Whether this letter was genuine or forged, there is nothing to show; if such a proposition was really made by Henry, it was probably only as a temporary expedient for putting off Philip’s importunity on the awkward question of Adela’s marriage. In the autumn Henry and Richard were again reconciled,[103] and a little later both were for a moment reconciled to Philip by a common vow of crusade.

On January 30, 1188, Henry returned to England, and it seems that John went with him; for when Philip attacked Berry again in the summer, Henry “sent into Normandy his son John, who crossed from Shoreham to Dieppe.”[104] The king rejoined his son in July, and they probably remained together during the greater part of the next eleven months, though there is no mention of John’s presence at any of the numerous conferences between Henry and Philip. At one of these conferences—that at La Ferté Bernard, on Trinity Sunday, June 4, 1189[105]—Philip and Richard demanded that John should be made to accompany his father and brother on the crusade; Richard even declared that he would not go himself unless John went too.[106] Henry, on the other hand, now openly proposed to Philip that Adela should marry John instead of Richard; but Philip, now that Richard was at his side, would not listen to this suggestion.[107]

Our last glimpse of John during his father’s lifetime is at Le Mans on June 12, when Philip and Richard captured the city, and Henry was compelled to flee. A contemporary tells us that before setting out on his flight “the king caused his son John, whom he loved and in whom he greatly trusted, to be disarmed.”[108] This precaution may have been due to anxiety—groundless, as the issue proved—lest John should thrust himself into danger in his father’s behalf; that it was not suggested by any doubts of John’s loyalty is plain, not only from the words of the writer who records it, but also from Henry’s action on the next morning, when, before setting out on his solitary ride from La Frênaye back into Anjou, he despatched his remaining followers to Normandy, after making the seneschal of the duchy and Earl William de Mandeville swear that in case of his own death the Norman castles should be given up to John.[109] John, however, had then already left him—under what circumstances, or at what precise moment, we know not; but it seems clear that at some time between the French attack upon Le Mans on the Monday morning and Henry’s arrival at La Frênaye on the same night, John had either been sent away by his father for safety, or had found some pretext for quitting his company, and that, in either case, he used the opportunity to go his own way with such characteristic ingenuity that for three whole weeks his father never guessed whither that way really tended.[110]

Henry and Richard had been set at strife by an illusion of their own imaginations. Richard had been spurred to rebellion by the idea that his father aimed at disinheriting him in favour of John, and might succeed in that aim, unless prevented by force. Henry’s schemes for John were probably in reality much less definite and less outrageous than Richard imagined; but there can be little doubt that the otherwise unaccountable inconsistencies and self-contradictions, the seemingly wanton changes of front, by which the king in his latter years had so bewildered and exasperated his elder son, were the outcome of an insatiable desire to place John, somehow or other, in a more lofty and independent position than a younger son was fairly entitled to expect. The strange thing is that Henry never perceived how hopeless were his efforts, nor Richard how groundless were his fears; neither of them, apparently, realizing that the substitution of John for Richard as heir of the Angevin house was an idea which could not possibly be carried into effect. The utter selfishness of John, however, rendered him, mere lad of one-and-twenty as he was, proof against illusions where his own interest was concerned; and it was he who pricked the bubble. On July 4 Henry, sick unto death, made his submission to Philip and Richard, and received a list of the traitors who had transferred their homage to the latter. That night, at Chinon, he bade his vice-chancellor read him the names. The vice-chancellor hesitated; the king insisted; at last the truth which was to give him his death-blow came out: “Sire, the first that is written down here is Lord John, your son.”[111]