How to be a Medieval King, Part II
The Courage and Wisdom as Qualities of Kingship
In the first entry into this series, I discussed the virtues of resolution and faith in relation to kingship. This post will follow up by discussing how a medieval king needed to be brave and wise as well in order to make a success of his reign.
King Arthur in battle, from a French medieval manuscript, c. 1290. Arthur was believed to have been a real king in the Middle Ages and was an inspiration to many an aspiring ruler throughout Western Europe. Granger Art sells copies if you feel so inclined: King Arthur in Battle by Granger
For the thirteenth century chronicler Matthew Paris, kings tended to have two flavours to them. They could be either “mighty and very bold,” or “wise and peaceable.”[1] Had you asked Paris for further comment in his scriptorium in St Albans Abbey in England, he might have added that it was best for a king to mix both attributes in his rule. However, modern historians have often focused on the “mighty and very bold” approach to kingship. Bruce McFarlane’s description of how a medieval king should interact with his nobility certainly places a heavy premium on the king’s mightiness:
He had to inspire his magnates with confidence and he had to know how to manage them with firmness or tact, just as, on a smaller scale, they managed those who were subject to them. It was difficult for him if he did not share their prejudices, interests, and pastimes. Above all he needed to be able to lead them in war. Occupied as they were with their own affairs, they had no wish to do his work for him; but they expected him to give them the opportunity to carve out their own careers under his leadership.[2]
From McFarlane’s description, a medieval king needed to be a man’s man. He needed to hunt, joust, and lead in war, and he needed to lead personally. The great seal of medieval English kings demonstrates this. On the reverse of the seal, each king was shown armed, mounted on a warhorse, brandishing his sword and shield in defence of the kingdom.[3] It is no accident that some of the greatest kings of medieval Europe – Ferdinand III of Castile, Richard the Lionheart of England, or Harold Hardrada of Norway – were all renowned as great warriors.
Yet might in arms did not a good king make by itself. As Marc Morris remarks in his study of Edward I of England, tyrants could also be strong and courageous. What set a good or great king apart from his contemporaries was wisdom. As Morris relates, Edward I was hailed by his eulogists as the wisest of kings on his death in 1307.[4] The Vita Edwardi Secundi, a chronicle account of the reign of Edward II of England, when recounting the birth of the future Edward III, wished that the future king would acquire all the virtues of his predecessors, including the wisdom of Edward I.[5] It is no wonder that the Middle Ages celebrated the Biblical kings David and Solomon, the first for his prowess as a warrior, the second for his abilities as a wise lawgiver. Again, this was reflected on the great seal of medieval England. The front of the seal displayed the king enthroned as the lawgiver and judge of his people, abiding in wisdom.
What did wisdom mean in the context of kingship? It can be narrowed to two concepts a king needed to master: patronage and delegation. According to historian Andy King in his study of Edward I “The art of medieval kingship was very much the art of patronage. A king had to know how to dispense rewards for services rendered—and to be rendered—without arousing jealousy and discontent, and without giving away too much.”[6] The king was not only the fount of justice; he was the fount of honour. The Arthurian concept of a king bestowing his favour and honour on well-deserving nobles, knights, and servants was alive and well during the medieval period itself. A king who performed this task with skill, such as Edward I or Edward III, could bind the political community together. A king who gave away too much to too many undeserving persons, such as Edward II was held to have done, would steadily erode the relationships he needed with the great men of the realm to govern.[7]
Beyond wisdom in rewarding servants of his regime, a king needed wisdom above all in selecting ministers and councilors to advise him and help him govern the realm. This was one of the more difficult decisions a king had to make. A councilor needed to be loyal, but a king would need to resist the inclination to select yes-men who would tell him what he wanted to hear. He had to place political duty above personal friendships. He needed capable servants who would stand up to him at times and advise him to change course. He also needed those servants to be his ministers, running the administration of the kingdom while he managed them. Distracted by the demands of politics, war, and justice, no medieval king could be troubled to seal every piece of parchment that was put into his hands. But the ministers who did so for him had to be trusted to not abuse the royal authority he had invested in them.
This was demanding, and no king could hope to keep his hand fully on the till one hundred percent of the time. And that was even if they were inclined to do so. Philip IV of France – the infamous Philip the Fair – was perceived by many observers of his reign as an empty vessel for his evil advisors to work through him to accomplish their ends. Yet, on his deathbed, Philip said that he had received bad counsel, but he was to blame for it.[8] Edward I and Edward III generally appointed conscientious advisors and counsellors, but even those counsellors were forced to oppose these respective kings when they were prepared to go beyond the brink and not listen to their advice. However, both examples relate the same notion: counsel was significant to the government of a medieval realm. Nobles, ministers, even representatives of the kingdom, whether in parliaments or estates-generals, expected to be able to offer the king their advice. They expected him to listen. Whether he took their advice was another matter, but these constituent members of the kingdom felt they had a right to make their voices heard. The best medieval kings – like the best modern leaders – were those who took counsel and adapted their policies from it.
As historian Christine Carpenter related, “as long as the king knew and did his job, there were as many ways of doing as there were kings.”[9] As the last paragraph evidenced, not all kings would or did know their roles in medieval Europe. Those that did, however, repeatedly evidenced that courage and wisdom were virtues they possessed in varying degrees. As long as the character of the man on the throne was well suited to the office of kingship and was blessed with a degree of luck, he would normally come through his reign unscathed. But what happened when an unfit king acceded to the throne or faced adverse circumstances? It is safe to say that in such an eventuality, all bets were off.
[1] D. Carpenter, Henry III: The Rise to Power and Personal Rule, 1207-1258 (London and New Haven, 2020), 326, citing Matthew Paris, La Estoire Lives of the Confessor, ed. H. R. Luard (Rolls Series, 3, 1858), lines 1-22.
[2] K. B. McFarlane, The Nobility of Later Medieval England: The Ford Lectures for 1953 and Related Studies (Oxford, 1973), 121.
[3] For an analysis of the seal, see A. Musson “Law and Arms: The Politics of Chivalry in Late Medieval England,” in Monarchy, State and Political Culture in Late Medieval England: Essays in Honour of W. Mark Ormrod, ed. G. Dodd and C. Taylor (Woodbridge, 2020), 94. For an image of the seal, see W. Mark Ormrod, Edward III (London and New Haven, 2011), Pl. 13.
[4] M. Morris, A Great and Terrible King: Edward I and the Forging of Britain (London, 2008), 365.
[5] Vita Edward Secundi, ed. and trans. W. R. Childs (Oxford, 2005), 62-3.
[6] A. King, Edward I: A New Arthur? (London and New York, 2016), 78.
[7] S. Phillips, “Royal Authority and its Limits: The Dominions of the English Crown in the Early Fourteenth Century”, in March in the Islands of the Medieval West, ed. J. N. Ghradaigh and E. O’Byrne (Dublin, 2012), 259; C. Given-Wilson, Edward II: The Terrors of Kingship (London and New Haven, 2016), x-xi and 103.
[8] Textes et documents d’historie, II: Moyen Age, ed. Calmette, 2nd edition, 166; C. Baudon de Mony, “La Mort et les funérailles de Philippe le Bel” Bibliothèque de l’Ecole de Chartres, 58 (1897), 42.
[9] C. Carpenter, The Wars of the Roses: Politics and the Constitution in England, c. 1437-1509 (Cambridge, 1997), 66.