My second repost, this time on Richard the Lionheart. Here I tried to explode some of the more persistent myths about Richard, particularly the notion that he ‘bankrupted’ England.
Just like brother John, Richard appears in my new novel OUTLAW KNIGHT (I): CRUSADE, to be released on 1 September. My story follows the adventures of Philip of Cognac, Richard’s bastard son, and his adventures in Normandy and the Byzantine Empire.
If this whets your appetite, please follow the links below to the pre-order. Now, to Coeur-de-Lion…
Any online ‘discussion’ of Richard and his reign usually devolves into a number of popular clichés. This can be aggravating, since people cling onto these things and dislike evidence and argument to the contrary. Rather than write a breakdown of Richard’s reign, as I did for his father, I thought I would tackle each cliché in turn.
Richard hated England and the English, and didn’t even speak the language. First, there is no evidence whatever that Richard ‘hated’ his own kingdom - naturally not, since England gave him a crown, and was his richest territory. As for the language, all the Plantagenet rulers of England spoke French as a first language until about 1370. They probably had some grasp of English: for instance, we know that Richard spent his first few years in England and had an English-born wet nurse, Hodierna. Anglo-Norman and Latin were certainly the languages of the court, but in this Richard was no different to any of his peers.
He only spent six months of his reign in England. True enough, but Richard only reigned for ten years, and was pledged to go on crusade. He was, essentially, an untitled emperor who ruled over a vast domain encompassing England and much of France, and had to fight a relentless battle against his rival, Philip Augustus, to retain his lands on the continent. Although he was an absentee monarch, Richard cared enough for England to instal some very capable regents, notably Hubert Walter, and kept in touch with affairs in England via a regular stream of correspondence. Had he lived longer, he may well have been able to visit his kingdom more often.
Richard bankrupted England. This issue of ‘bankruptcy’ is one of my pet peeves, since it also gets thrown at Edward I and other members of the Plantagenet dynasty. What I find alarming is that so many people don’t understand what it means. To go bankrupt means you run out of credit, not money i.e. nobody will lend you money anymore. This never happened to England under the Plantagenets, though there were some wobbly moments.
Now, it is true that Richard’s mother Eleanor of Aquitaine levied a very heavy tax on England to pay her son’s ransom, after his capture by Leopold of Austria. The ransom itself was extortionate, 150,000 marks: the rough equivalent of £120,000, at a time when the annual income of England was £22,000, while Normandy brought in £25,000.
Even so, the ransom was gathered efficiently, and made no long-term dent in English finances. Indeed, as Elizabeth Chadwick has illustrated, the rate of income continued to climb under Richard’s successor, John, until by 1211 it stood at a staggering £83, 291. There is no indication that credit finance - the ability to lend and borrow - was affected, or even a consideration. Instead of borrowing, the money was raised entirely from tax on English revenues: income, movable goods, the wool clip and gold and silver from the monasteries. Not a sniff of bankruptcy.
Richard was homosexual. The popular image of Richard’s sexuality is even more ill-founded. Far from being gay, he was accused by chroniclers in his own time of being a serial womaniser, who forced his attention on the wives of his nobles in Aquitaine. Whatever the truth of that, Richard is known to have fathered at least one illegitimate son, Philip of Cognac. Philip’s mother is unknown, sadly, but his existence is beyond doubt.
The impression of Richard’s homosexuality derives from a chronicler, Roger of Hoveden, who wrote that Richard liked to share a bed with Philip Augustus, before the two fell out forever. This was a common sign of royal favour and trust, with no sexual implications. For instance, Edward I shared a bed with his favourite, Thomas de Clare. Nobody, to the best of my knowledge, has tried to make a case that Edward Longshanks was homosexual.
And so on, and so forth. I could prattle on further, but this piece is long enough already. I will probably return to the Lionheart and related matters in future posts, but will sign off for now.
Jste spisovatel ano,ale špatný historik laik.