And so Giraldus ran the course that was ordained for him, while he could and while the time permitted, nor in his day was he a sluggard or a coward. But now that others run and follow the court and pile up vain vexations, let him take his rest and in his humble habitation indulge his love of books and in the corners of churches weep for his sins and wail for his offences and for the welfare of his soul with penance wash them away and wipe them out.
From De iure et statu Menuensis ecclesiae, trans. H. E. Butler, The Autobiography of Giraldus Cambrensis (London: Cape, 1937).
Henry II, King of England
GIRALDUS CAMBRENSIS
Twelfth century
IT WERE not amiss in this place to draw the portrait of the king, so that his person as well as his character may be familiar to posterity; and those who in future ages shall hear and read of his great achievments, may be able to picture him to themselves as he was. For the history on which I am employed must not suffer so noble an ornament of our times to pass away with only a slight notice. But herein we crave pardon for speaking the exact truth, for without it, history not only loses all authority, but does not even merit the name. It is the business of art to copy nature, and the painter is not to be trusted who exaggerates graces and conceals blemishes.
No man indeed is born without faults, but he is best who has the least; and the wise will think that nothing which concerns mankind is devoid of interest. There is no certainty in worldly matters, and no perfect happiness; good is mixed with evil, and virtue with vice. Wherefore, if things spoken in commendation of a man’s disposition or conduct are pleasant to the ear, it should not be taken amiss if his faults are told. It was the remark of a philosopher, that princes ought to be treated with deference, and not exasperated by severe things being said of them; and a comic writer tells us that smooth words make friends, but the language of truth makes enemies; so that it is a dangerous matter to say anything against one who has the power of revenging himself; and it is still more perilous, and more arduous than profitable, to describe freely and in many words a prince who, by a single word, can consign you to ruin. It would surely be a pleasing task, but I confess that it is one beyond my powers, to tell the truth respecting a prince in everything without in any way offending him. But to the purpose.
Henry II, king of England, had a reddish complexion, rather dark, and a large round head. His eyes were grey, bloodshot, and flashed in anger. He had a fiery countenance, his voice was tremulous, and his neck a little bent forward; but his chest was broad, and his arms were muscular. His body was fleshy, and he had an enormous paunch, rather by the fault of nature than from gross feeding. For his diet was temperate, and indeed in all things, considering he was a prince, he was moderate, and even parsimonious. In order to reduce and cure, as far as possible, this natural tendency and defect, he waged a continual war, so to speak, with his own belly by taking immoderate exercise. For in time of war, in which he was almost always engaged, he took little rest, even during the intervals of business and action. Times of peace were no seasons of repose and indulgence to him, for he was immoderately fond of the chase, and devoted himself to it with excessive ardour. At the first dawn of day he would mount a fleet horse, and indefatigably spend the day in riding through the woods, penetrating the depths of forests, and crossing the ridges of hills. On his return home in the evening he was seldom seen to sit down, either before he took his supper or after; for notwithstanding his own great fatigue, he would weary all his court by being constantly on his legs. But it is one of the most useful rules in life, not to have too much of any one thing, and even medicine is not in itself perfect and always to be used; even so it befell this king. For he had frequent swellings in his legs and feet, increased much by his violent exercise on horseback, which added to his other complaints, and if they did not bring on serious disorders, at least hastened that which is the source of all, old age. In stature he may be reckoned among men of moderate height, which was not the case with either of his sons; the two eldest being somewhat above the middle height, and the two youngest somewhat below.
When his mind was undisturbed, and he was not in an angry mood, he spoke with great eloquence, and, what was remarkable in those days, he was well learned. He was also affable, flexible, and facetious, and, however he smothered his inward feelings, second to no one in courtesy. Withal, he was so clement a prince, that when he had subdued his enemies, he was overcome himself by his pity for them. Resolute in war, and provident in peace, he so much feared the doubtful fortune of the former, that, as the comic poet writes, he tried all courses before he resorted to arms. Those whom he lost in battle he lamented with more than a prince’s sorrow, having a more humane feeling for the soldiers who had fallen than for the survivors; and bewailing the dead more than he cared for the living. In troublesome times no man was more courteous, and when all things were safe, no man more harsh. Severe to the unruly, but clement to the humble; hard towards his own household, but liberal to strangers; profuse abroad, but sparing at home; those whom he once hated, he would scarcely ever love, and from those he loved, he seldom withdrew his regard. He was inordinately fond of hawking and hunting, whether his falcons stooped on their prey, or his sagacious hounds, quick of scent and swift of foot, pursued the chase. Would to God he had been as zealous in his devotions as he was in his sports.
It is said that after the grievous dissensions between him and his sons, raised by their mother, he had no respect for the obligations of the most solemn treaties. True it is that from a certain natural inconstancy he often broke his word, preferring rather, when driven to straits, to forfeit his promise than depart from his purpose. In all his doings he was provident and circumspect, and on this account he was sometimes slack in the administration of justice, and, to his people’s great cost, his decisions on all proceedings were dilatory. Both God and right demand that justice should be administered gratuitously, yet all things were set to sale and brought great wealth both to the clergy and laity; but their end was like Gehazi’s gains.
He was a great maker of peace, and kept it himself; a liberal alms-giver, and an especial benefactor to the Holy Land. He loved the humble, curbed the nobility, and trod down the proud; filling the hungry with good things, and sending the rich empty away; exalting the meek, and putting down the mighty from their seat. He ventured on many detestable usurpations in things belonging to God, and through a zeal for justice (but not according to knowledge), he joined the rights of the Church to those of the crown, and therein confused them, in order to centre all in himself. Although he was the son of the Church, and received his crown from her hands, he either dissembled or forgot the sacramental unction. He could scarcely spare an hour to hear mass, and then he was more occupied in counsels and conversation about affairs of state than in his devotions. The revenues of the churches during their avoidance he drew into his own treasury, laying hands on that which belonged to Christ; and as he was always in fresh troubles and engaged in mighty wars, he expended all the money he could get, and lavished upon unrighteous soldiers what was due to the priests. In his great prudence he devised many plans, which, however, did not all turn out according to his expectations; but no great mishap ever occurred, which did not originate in some trifling circumstance.
He was the kindest of fathers to his legitimate children during their childhood and youth, but as they advanced in years looked on them with an evil eye, treating them worse than a stepfather; and although he had such distinguished and illustrious sons, whether it was that he would not have them prosper too fast, or whether they were ill-deserving, he could never bear to think of them as his successors. And as human prosperity can neither be permanent nor perfect, such was the exquisite malice of fortune against this king, that where he should have received comfort he met with opposition; where security, danger; where peace, turmoil; where support, ingratitude; where quiet and tranquillity, disquiet and disturbance. Whether it happened from unhappy marriages, or for the punishment of the father’s sins, there
was never any good agreement either of the father with his sons, or of the sons with their parent, or between themselves.
At length, all pretenders to the government and disturbers of the peace being put down, and the brothers, his sons, and all others, both at home and abroad, being reconciled, all things succeeded according to his will. Would to God that he had, even late, acknowledged this crowning proof of the divine mercy by works worthy of repentance. I had almost forgotten to mention that his memory was so good, that, notwithstanding the multitudes who continually surrounded him, he never failed of recognizing anyone he had ever seen before, nor did he forget anything important which he had ever heard. He was also master of nearly the whole course of history, and well versed in almost all matters of experience. To conclude in few words; if this king had been finally chosen of God, and had turned himself to obey his commands, such were his natural endowments that he would have been, beyond all comparison, the noblest of all princes of the earth in his times.
From Conquest of Ireland, trans. T. Wright (London: Bell, 1881).
The Emperor Frederick II
SALIMBENE
Thirteenth century
FREDERICK II, formerly emperor, although he was great and rich and a mighty emperor, had nevertheless many misfortunes. Concerning these something should be said. The first of all his misfortunes was that his first-born son Henry, who should have ruled after him, went over to the Lombards against his will, and so Frederick captured him, bound him, and put him in prison. Thus the emperor could say with Job, “They whom I loved are turned against me.”
His second misfortune was that he wished to subjugate the Church, so that the pope and the cardinals and other prelates should be poor, and should go on foot. And he did not try to do this by divine zeal, but because he was not a good Catholic, and because he was very avaricious and greedy, and wanted to have the riches and treasures of the Church for himself and his sons. He wished to put down the power of the churchmen, so that they could not undertake anything against him. And he told this to certain of his secretaries, from whom, afterwards, it became known....
The third of his misfortunes was that he wanted to conquer the Lombards and could not, because when he had them on one side, he lost them on the other....
His fourth misfortune was that Pope Innocent IV deposed him from the empire in the plenary council of Lyons, and made public there all his wickedness and iniquities....
His fifth misfortune was that while he was still living, his empire was given to another, namely, the landgrave of Thuringia [Henry Raspe]. Although death took him quite soon, yet Frederick was sorrowful when he saw that his empire had been given to another....
His sixth misfortune was when Parma rebelled against him, and went over completely to the Church, which was the cause of all his ruin.
The seventh misfortune was when the men of Parma took his city, Vittoria, which he had built near Parma, and burned, razed, and completely destroyed it, and filled up the holes so that no vestige of it remained, according to the Apocalypse, “A city which was and is no more.” Also, they put Frederick and his army shamefully to flight, and killed many of them, and led many captive to their city of Parma.... Also they despoiled him and took his whole treasury.... The cry of Frederick could be that of Job: “He hath stripped me of my glory, and taken the crown from my head.” This can be taken to mean Pope Innocent IV, who deposed him from the empire, or the city of Parma, which literally stripped him and took his crown from his head. A certain man of Parma found this crown in the city of Vittoria when it was destroyed, and carried it publicly in his hand, but the men of Parma took it away from him.
... I have seen and known this man, and I have also seen the crown, and held it in my hand; it was of great weight and of great value. The men of Parma gave him two hundred pounds imperial for it, and a little house near the church of St. Christine, which formerly was a bathing and drinking place for horses....
Frederick’s eighth misfortune was when his princes and barons rebelled against him, like Teobaldo Francesco, who shut himself up in Cappacio, and afterwards died wretchedly; after his eyes had been put out and he had been tortured, he was slain by Frederick. There were also Piero della Vigna and many others, whom it would take too long to name. Concerning these, Frederick could say with Job: “All my inward friends abhorred me, and they whom I loved are turned against me.” The one whom he greatly loved was Piero della Vigna, whom he had raised up from nothing, so that he could say, “I have lifted you out of the dust,” for Piero had been a poor man, and the emperor had made him his secretary, and had called him “logothete,” wishing to honour him greatly....
His ninth misfortune was when his son, King Enzio, was captured by the Bolognese, which was right and just, for he had captured at sea prelates who were going to the council of Pope Gregory IX.... Thus it could not be, that the emperor would not be pierced by this sword of sorrow, that is, the capture of his son by his enemies at such a time. For then all hope of his victory perished.
The tenth and last of his misfortunes was when he heard that the Marquis Uberto Pelavicini had greater lordship over the Lombards than he himself could ever have, although Uberto was on his side. He was old and thin and weak and one-eyed, because when he lay as a baby in the cradle, a cock had pecked his eye, that is, it had extracted it from his head with its beak, and eaten it.
To these ten misfortunes of the Emperor Frederick we can add two more, so that we shall have twelve: first, that he was excommunicated by Pope Gregory IX; and second, that the Church tried to take away from him the kingdom of Sicily. And he was not without blame in this, for when the Church sent him across the sea to recover the Holy Land, he made a peace with the Saracens without advantage for the Christians. Moreover, he had the name of Mohammed publicly chanted in the church of God, as we have set down in another chronicle, where we described the twelve crimes of Frederick....
That Frederick who was once emperor died in 1250 A.D., in Apulia, in the little city which is called Fiorentino, which is about ten miles from the Saracen city of Nocera. And because of the very great stench of corruption which came from his body, he could not be carried to Palermo, where the sepulchres of the kings of Sicily are, and where they are buried.
The reasons for the failure to bury this king in the tombs of the kings of Sicily are manifold. The first was the fulfilment of the Scriptures, whence Isaiah: “Thou shalt not be joined with them in burial, because thou hast destroyed thy land and slain thy people.” ...The second was that such a great stench came from his body that it could not be endured.... The third reason was that his son Manfred, who was called prince, concealed his death, because he wanted to seize the kingdom of Sicily and Apulia, before his brother Conrad should come from Germany. Hence it was that many believed that he had not died, although he really had; and thus was fulfilled the Sibylline prophecy: “It will be said among the people, ‘He lives’ and ‘He does not live,’” and this happened because his death was hidden....
But know you that Frederick always delighted in having strife with the Church, and that he many times fought her, who had nourished, protected, and exalted him. Of faith in God he had none. He was a crafty man, wily, avaricious, lustful, malicious, and wrathful.
And yet at times he was a worthy man, when he wanted to prove his goodness and his generosity; then he was friendly, merry, full of sweetness and diligence. He could read, write, and sing, and make songs and music. He was a handsome, well-formed man, but only of middle height. I have seen him, and once I loved him, for he wrote on my behalf to Brother Elias, the minister general of the Franciscan order, to send me back to my father. He knew how to speak many and various languages. And, to put it briefly, had he been a good Catholic, and loved God, the Church, and his own soul, he would have had as his equals few emperors in the world. But since, as it is written, a little leaven leaveneth the lump, so he destroyed all his good qualities through this, that he persecuted the Church of God, which he would not have done, if he ha
d loved God and his own soul.... So he was deposed from the imperial office, and died an evil death....
But now I have something to say about the follies of Frederick. His first folly was that he had the thumb of a notary cut off, because he spelled his name in a different way from what he wished. Frederick desired that the first syllable of his name be written “i,” like this, Fridericus, and that notary had written it with an “e,” Fredericus.
His second folly was that he wanted to find out what kind of speech and what manner of speech children would have; when they grew up, if they spoke to no one beforehand. So he bade foster mothers and nurses to suckle the children, to bathe and wash them, but in no way to prattle with them or to speak to them, for he wanted to learn whether they would speak the Hebrew language, which was the oldest, or Greek, or Latin, or Arabic, or perhaps the language of their parents, of whom they had been born. But he laboured in vain, because the children all died. For they could not live without the petting and the joyful faces and loving words of their foster mothers. And so the songs are called “swaddling songs,” which a woman sings while she is rocking the cradle, to put a child to sleep, and without them a child sleeps badly and has no rest.
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