The Perfect King (71 page)

Just before the end of the parliament, on the actual day of his birthday, Edward promoted his second, third and fourth sons to new, high tides. Lionel became duke of Clarence, in reference to his inheritance of the Clare estates, which, combined with the earldom of Ulster, made him by far the greatest landowner in Ireland. John became duke of Lancaster, acquiring the tide of Edward's late general as well as his estates. And Edmund became earl of Cambridge. And of course there was a great feast. On his fiftieth birthday Edward revelled in his great fortune by sharing a
little
of it out amongst his children, his friends and his people.

At Edward's birth, the author of the
Life of Edward the Second
had expressed the hope that Edward would 'follow the industry of King Henry the second, the well-known valour of King Richard, reach the age of King Henry [the third], revive the wisdom of King Edward [the first] and remind us of the physical strength and comeliness of his father'. On his fiftieth birthday Edward could be said to have fulfilled all of the chronicler's hopes for him exce
pt reaching the age of Henry III
(who lived to sixty-five). But if he looked in the mirror, what did he see? A man at the height of his royal authority, groomed to look the part, admired, famous and feared by his enemies; but also a man who had now achieved his life's ambitions. The eyes were still bright, the face was still handsome and the mind was still strong, but there was nothing left to yearn for.

It would be too soon in an evaluation of Edward's life to say that his regnal authority was weakening. In the mid
-1
36os
that authority was stronger than ever. But the key thread of his kingship - his vision of what kingship could and should be, which had given his life and reign such meaning and dynamism - was now all but extinguished. This has nothing to do with failure, and much to do with success. Edward in
1365
resembled the self-penned character portrait of the late duke of Lancaster. Years before he had danced and tourneyed with the best of them but now he resisted all but the occasional passing fancy. Once he had yearned for victories and accolades; now he preferred to feast himself on salmon and strong sauces, and to drink Gascon wine to join in the merriment of the court feasts. Where were the men with whom he used to drink, laugh and urge on to glory? Where were William Montagu, Reginald Cobham, Thomas Dagworth and the earls of Huntingdon, Northampton and Lancaster? Even the friends who were still alive were not with him now. They were old and retired, gone to their estates to tell tales of their glory days.

The cruelty of kingship gradually became apparent to Edward. His vassals - even the heroes among them - could grow old, withdraw from society, and die in relative peace. But not him; not the king. Too much depended on him. Edward could not grow old without growing weak, and if he grew weak, then England grew weak. Any of his earls could gracefully decline to joust, and claim middle age as an excuse. The king had to be seen still to be prepared for war and to risk his life, if need be. It was incongruous, especially now that he was in his fifties and growing fatter. A favourite red velvet belt with gold and pearls had to be sent back to his tailor in
1363
to be made larger. New war armour was made for him in the same year. Edward wanted little to do with stratagems, war, the pope, or any other challenge. He had earned a little peace, surely? He wanted to complete his great buildings, to spend time with Philippa, to listen to his minstrels, to hear the chiming of his clocks, to look at his paintings, to show off his jewels, to hunt in summer and to loose his falcons in winter, and to be rowed in the royal barge down to Sheppey where his new
castle
was being built for him.

This sudden decline of ambition may be
attributed to Edward's age, or h
is changing nature, but we should also consider his state of health. As mentioned in a previous chapter, this is a particularly difficult subject area. For instance, we cannot simply rely on occasional payments for medicines to know when he was ill. Edward maintained a permanent medical staff as a part of his household, and so most medical functions would have fallen within the scope of their regular duties, requiring no extra payments. Similarly we cannot assume from the continued activity of government that Edward was physically well. Most work was delegated, and what was not depended only on the king's ability to issue an order, he did not necessarily have to get out of bed. But there is one way we can make a rough estimate of Edward's state of health: we can assess how many medical practitioners Edward was employing from
outside
his household. Often these men were not employed but rewarded, and through tracing these rewards and gifts we do get an idea of how many 'second opinions' were being sought on his medical condition. Apart from the
1349-50
plague year, no practitioner was rewarded as a second 'king's physician' until the years
1364-67,
when John Paladyn and John Glaston were both recorded in this capacity. A second physician seems to have been employed regularly in the period
1368-70
and several were employed in the
1370s.
As for surgeons, there are various payments to non-household surgeons in
1359, 1362
and from
1368
to his death. It would appear safest to conclude that Edward's health was already
suffering, perhaps intermittentl
y, from
1363-64
if not earlier.

If Edward was indeed ill as early as
1363
he was not letting it show. No chronicler records his sickness at this time. Nor could he have played the ailing king if he felt inclined; warrior status does not admit of physical weakness. And as the payment for war armour shows, he was still having to play the part of the warrior-king. When in November
1363
he and Philippa played host to three kings — those of France, Cyprus and Scotland - a great tournament was held in their honour at Smithfield: it was simply what was expected. The regularity of royal tournaments may be considered a second check on the king's health. Jousts continued to take place but whereas in
1348
there had been a royal tournament
every
month, now it was rare for there to be two in a year. Where was the pleasure in patronising events which only showed how much younger and stronger the new crop of inexperienced youthful strangers were? But such events could not be given up entirely. That would be admitting of weakness, and unkingly behaviour.

Edward's favourite pastimes in the
1360s
were hunting and falconry, and he now began to spend more time pursuing these. In the early
1350s
he had kept a staff of six huntsmen and seven falconers, but in
1360
he and Philippa maintained thirty-one huntsmen and twenty-three falconers, and it is unlikely that the total number engaged in serving their hunting activities dropped below thirty for the rest of the decade. There were hunting parks attached to most of the royal houses and
castle
s. Edward spent about
£80
per year on his hunting dogs alone. He kept fifty or sixty birds of prey - gerfalcons, goshawks, tiercels and lannerets - at his mews, near Charing. When we consider the cost of obtaining the birds in the first place, and then feeding them at a rate of at least a penny a day, and the wages of the many keepers and trainers, and their official robes, Edward's expenditure on hunting can be totalled at around
£600
each year, an average baron's annual income. In
1367-68
he spent this sum on his falcons alone. This was much more than other medieval English kings, and much more than he himself spent in earlier and later decades.

It is perhaps in parliament that we can most clearly detect the lessening of political ambition. After the generous and ground-breaking legislation of
1362,
that of the
1363
parliament was highly conservative. Edward attempted to set prices for goods, trying to legislate against inflation. He and his officials
set down in codified laws exactl
y what a servant was allowed to wear and eat, and what craftsmen and yeome
n were allowed, what lesser gentl
emen and their wives and families were allowed, and what merchants, knights, clergymen and ploughmen were allowed. This second sumptuary law was futile, but it shows the conservatism of Edward's mind in the mid
-i36os.
This was simply how he and his advisers (who drafted the legislation) believed society should be, in a hierarchical ladder from the king down to the servants. At the same time as he was legislating that servants and people of low status could not wear silk or furs, or any embroidered material, he himself was paying hundreds of pounds for the most lavishly embroidered and fur-trimmed clothes. While stipulating that husbandmen should eat no more than two dishes per day, he ordered that eight dishes were to be set before him at every mealtime, and five before the lords
with him, three before his gentl
emen, and two before his grooms.
Even if one takes the view that he was trying to encourage moderation of the ranks of society who felt bound to compete with each other, buying finer clothes than they needed and feasting to excess, his policy of restraint has to be seen as conservative.

Even more telling was the parliament of
1364.
It never happened. Alth
ough Edward had agreed as recentl
y as his fiftieth birthday that a parliament would take place annually, the meeting due to take place in his thirty-seventh year on the throne did not actually meet until
20
January
1365,
four days before the end of the regnal year. Moreover it continued over into the next regnal year, and so Edward managed to avoid having to hold another until May
1366,
and that was a brief meeting in which legislation was not discussed. In
1367
he declined to summon a parliament at all, so no more statutes were enrolled until May
1368.
This is hardly a sign of eagerness on Edward's part to engage with parliament, or to use the petitions to address the needs and complaints of his people. And some of the legislation that he
did
pass was strategically self-defeating. Over the course of
1363-65
he renewed his attempts to establish monopolies for trade. In
1364
he tried to reverse the legislation of
1361
providing for the judicial powers of JPs.
41
And he renewed his attack upon the pope. Although Urban V was probably the most pious of all the French pontiffs, Edward's frustration over his failure to grant permission for the marriages of his sons made him reissue the Statutes of Praemunire and Provisors in January
1365,
ending any chance he had of coaxing Urban V to compromise over the war. Urban finally gave in to Edward's demands that there should be an English cardinal, and awarded Simon Langham a red cap in
1368,
but this was due to Urban's judgement, not Edward's pressure. Edward in fact complained about the appointment.

It was not that Edward had suddenly turned into a neglectful king, it was simply that the ambition to be a better king was no longer there. The emphasis had turned from the king seeking success to one whose measure of success was simply to get through each day in a kingly fashion, and to enjoy himself if he had the chance. As a result, he wanted nothing much to change politically. It was in this spirit that he ordained that every man should practise with the longbow. It made perfect sense to encourage the English to continue their domination of projectile-based warfare, but Edward's motive was to ensure that things stayed as they had been in
1346.
In
1366,
he authorised the Statute of Kilkenny, negotiated by his son Lionel, by which Ireland was divided between those whom Edward wanted to command and those who were beyond English control. Again, in the circumstances this was sensible, but it marked the introduction of a policy of conservatism. The young Edward would have personally tried to bring the whole country under his control. This conservatism did not necessarily lead to bad legislation. In one statute passed at this time, Edward ordered that all goldsmiths had to identify their works with their own specific maker's mark, the origin of the hallmark. We have reason to be grateful; but the motivation was essentially conservative, to keep things as they had been in his heyday.

Edward was not just resting on his laurels, he was preparing to retire on them. He usually confined his movements to the area of the Thames, travelling by the royal barge. One of the reasons for this mode of transport was probably his own declining health. Another was undoubtedly Philippa's medical condition. From
1365
grants made in her name made provision for the eventuality of her dying before the grantee, and her suffering was probably so great in
1365
that she could not travel easily except by barge and litter.
43
It may be that she never properly recovered from the injuries sustained when falling from a horse while hunting with Edward in the summer of
1358;
she was making preparations for her tomb as early as
1362.
In
1366
the king's own health took a turn for the worse. Payments were made to an apothecary by the king's physician for medicines for him. That summer he left his household for long periods at Windsor
Castle
and spent considerable lengths of time
quietly
at his hunting lodges in the New Forest with Philippa, receiving special visitors - such as 'the son of the king of India' - but otherwise laying low, avoiding too much pomp.