Review of “Richard the Lionheart: The Mighty Crusader” by David Miller

When considering the historical image of Richard I, what stands out most is his role as a military commander. While this aspect of his monarchy was hardly unique to Richard, as it was one played by both his predecessors and many of his contemporaries, it was one that enjoyed an particular prominence thanks to his participation in the Third Crusade. Until then the major kings of Europe had not led personally these high-profile military expeditions, and Richard’s conduct of this one ensured that he did not just garner the attention of the Christian world, but that he seized its imagination as well.

It is this that is the focus of David Miller’s book. As a career British Army officer turned freelance author, he brings to his subject a professional soldier’s understanding of the nature of military operations and the factors that determine their success. This he uses to assess Richard’s conduct of the Third Crusade, detailing the various stages of his three-year-long campaign and describing his conduct in each of them. He follows this largely narrative description with two chapters assessing Richard’s naval operations and the logistical aspects of his campaign, before concluding with an assessment of Richard as a military commander.

Miller’s judgment of Richard is a highly favorable one. As he notes, Richard demonstrated a well-rounded capability as a campaigner, demonstrating outstanding personal leadership, a good strategic sense, and the necessary appreciation for the vital role played by logistics in such an extensive military operation. That he failed in his ultimate goal in the campaign – the reconquest of Jerusalem – is not because of any failings of Richard as a commander, Miller concludes, but because the goal was simply unattainable given the resources available to him, with the decision not to besiege Jerusalem reflecting good military judgment rather than any failure of will.

This assessment Miller grounds in a description of the campaign that, while dry, is clear and straightforward. He supplements this with explanations of the elements of the warfare of the era that make his book a fine introduction to the subject for anyone new to it. That is not a biography is not a criticism of the work, for Miller did not set out to write one. What he has written is a good companion piece to John Hosler’s study of Richard’s father, albeit one more narrowly focused on Richard’s conduct of a single military campaign than Hosler’s more comprehensive work. While his assessment of Richard’s military skill would have been stronger had he included with it an examination of his conduct of operations post-Crusades, for anyone interested just in the martial aspects of Richard’s life this is a useful book to read.

Review of “The Reign of Richard Lionheart: Ruler of the Angevin Empire, 1189-99” by Ralph V. Turner and Richard Heiser

Despite having read over four dozen books so far for this project, Ralph Turner and Richard Heiser’s study of Richard I’s reign is the first co-authored work that I have encountered for it. Their collaboration reflects their shared expertise and personal ties. A specialist in the Angevin era and its administration in particular, Turner taught for several decades at Florida State University, where Heiser went for his graduate education in medieval history. Given the latter’s dissertation on lover government officials in Richard’s bureaucracy, the complimentary knowledge of the two made them an understandable fit for a study of Richard’s reign.

And that is indeed the focus of their book. While their attention is indeed on Richard’s time on the throne, their focus is on not on his personal activities but on the administration of his wide-ranging empire. Richard’s time prior to becoming king receives only modest attention, and then primarily on his seventeen-year “apprenticeship” as count of Poitou. Though there are chapters as well on his historical reputation, his preparations for the Crusade, and his campaigns on the continent, the vast majority talk about the operations of the Angevin empire over which Richard ruled, much of it in absentia.

It is this latter fact which makes Turner and Heiser’s book so interesting. So many of the biographies of the earlier kings stressed the personal nature of their rule, their need to be on scene in order to best realize their authority. This was a major factor in their peripatetic lives as monarchs, and often contributes to the difficulties in writing biographies of them, as such travels were not beneficial to the accumulation of records. Richard led a similarly itinerant existence, but unlike every one of his predecessors that I have read about to this point, most of that travel took place outside his realm. This increased his reliance on his administration to do the work for him, which adds considerably to the value of Turner and Heiser’s work.

Because of this, I found the book such valuable reading, albeit a little dry in its presentation of its details. It is a highly useful study how Richard maintained his authority even as he spent several years abroad and out of touch with the details of administration that occupied so many of his predecessors. Yet to judge it as a biography is to demand of it something that it is not, nor is it something that its authors make any pretense of having written. Those wanting the coverage of Richard’s life and his activities during his reign will want to look elsewhere, though after having consumed a work like Gillingham’s they might find it a worthwhile, if somewhat more advanced, compliment.

Review of “The Life and Times of Richard I” by John Gillingham

John Gillingham has written a diverse range of books on medieval England, yet if there is one subject which he has made his own, it’s Richard Cœur de Lion. In addition to his work on the Angevin empire over which he ruled, Gillingham has written three biographies of Richard, as well as a collection of essays focused on the king. His contribution to Weidenfeld and Nicolson’s “Kings and Queens of England” series was the first of these, a deft overview of Richard’s activities that emphasizes his participation in the Third Crusade.

It’s a choice that likely reflects the target audience for the series of a popular readership, one that is underscored by an extensive use of photographs illustrating the locations and events described in the text. Yet for all his academic qualifications, Gillingham never talks down to his audience, providing instead a clearly-written text that offers a straightforward explanation of his subject’s activities. Beginning with an opening chapter that skillfully summarizes both 12th century England and Richard’s life prior to his accession to the throne, he moves on swiftly to his preparations to join the Crusades. Richard seems almost monomaniacally focused in these pages on his involvement, determined to get there as fast as circumstances will allow.

The three years that Richard spends on journeying to the Holy Lands and campaigning there takes up half of Gillingham’s book. These chapters provide a dramatic recounting of his activities, focusing on his activities as both a general and a statesman. Gillingham’s portrayal of Richard is positive to the point of glowing, as he explains how he managed both the complex diplomatic environment of the Mediterranean and the relationships with his prickly and ambitious allies. Gillingham regards Richard as the outstanding military commander among the crusaders, and explains clearly why the king made the judgments he did on his campaign and how his achievements were the most that were possible given the circumstances that he faced.

Because of Gillingham’s focus, the events of the final six years of Richard’s are condensed into just two chapters. This reflects at least in part the lack of information available about him, as Richard’s captivity in Germany does not seem to have generated many records for Gillingham to use. But the choice seems more questionable when it comes to covering Richard’s arguably more significant clash with Philip Augustus, given both the span of years involved and the significance of the war to the history of the two realms. While the events are efficiently described, the contrast with the level of detail provided for Richard’s Crusades escapades is striking. Though I’m reserving any final judgment in this respect until I’ve seen the coverage of this period in the other biographies of Richard that I plan to read (including Gillingham’s contribution to the English Monarchs series), it does seem an unwarranted and distorting choice.

This is perhaps the greatest flaw in what s otherwise a highly enjoyable book. Gillingham goes far in this book in demonstrating why Richard enjoys the standing he possesses today in the popular imagination. While the imbalanced coverage of his reign makes it difficult to imagine that this will be the final “one book” on which I will settle, as an introduction to a monarch I knew little it does a fine job of giving me the basics while whetting my interest for reading further. In that respect Gillingham does an admirable job in a way that many authors would envy.

On to Richard I!

Richard I being anointed during his coronation in 1189

Among English monarchs, there are a few whose reputation and personas have broken out of confinement to the historical memory and entered into the popular imagination. One of those in that select group is Richard I, who activities in his peripatetic decade on the throne earned himself the sobriquet “Cœur de Lion,” or Lionheart. Undoubtedly his years spent participating in the Third Crusade helped in that respect, as his time spent trying to recapture the Holy Lands for Christianity earned him good press in the West for centuries, even if the campaign ended in frustration.

That good press has ensured that there are no shortage of books from which to choose about Richard’s life. For the first time since my review of books about William the Conqueror, I needed to limit my coverage of the biographies written about him to a manageable selection of eight books. As with William, I decided to start with the volume on Richard in Weidenfeld and Nicolson’s “Kings and Queens of England” series. The first of three biographies of Richard that John Gillingham wrote, it will be the oldest of the selections for Richard that I’m going to read for this project and one that, if that biography of William Rufus that I’ve already read is representative of his work, should provide a good introduction to the monarch and his times.

Next on my list is Ralph Turner and Richard Heiser’s The Reign of Richard Lionheart, Ruler of the Angevin Empire, 1189–1199. Though the title suggests that the book is less a biography than a focused study of his time on the throne, the focus on Richard’s governance rather than his generalship (one that seems a prominent part of many of the biographies about him that I’ve encountered) marked it out as an interesting book. If the title of David Miller’s Richard the Lionheart: The Mighty Crusader is any indication, I’m going to return to that focus once I’ve read it.

After that I plan on reading Jean Flori’s Richard the Lionheart: Knight and King. As a biography by a French scholar of the medieval era, I’m curious to see what it holds in terms of perspectives different from those in the ones written on my list by his English counterparts. Once I finish it I will move on to two relatively short studies of Richard: Antony Bridge’s 1989 book Richard the Lionheart and Thomas Asbridge’s 2019 biography of Richard for the Penguin Monarchs series. Assessing the latter in light of the other books I will have read to this point should provide an interesting basis for judging how well he addresses the considerable scholarship that Richard has generated over the years.

Asbridge’s book is one of the two most recent Richard biographies on my list, the other being W. B. Bartlett’s Richard the Lionheart: The Crusader King of England. As a prolific author of books on the era, I’ve skirted around some of his works but this will be the first one of his that I’ve read. Finally, I will end my examination of Richard biographies with John Gillingham’s volume on him for the venerable English Monarchs series. It seems appropriate to use him to bookend my examination of Richard biographies, and it will be interesting to see if he addresses any aspects of Richard’s reign that aren’t covered in the other books I’m reading.

Just one book on . . . Henry II

As I noted in my first post about Henry II, my initial exposure to him came not from reading about him in a history book, but from the film version of James Goldman’s play The Lion in Winter. Perhaps it’s because of the high profile enjoyed by that movie that I was surprised to find so few modern biographies have been written about him for me to review for this project. Given both his role in English history and the fact that he was well-known enough to serve as the subject of not just one but two successful movies in the 1960s, I was expecting to find a similar number of biographies about him that I found about William the Conqueror. Instead, I identified just seven modern works to read.

I suspect that a major factor for this is the stature enjoyed by Wilfred Lewis Warren’s formidable study. In both size and scope it’s an impressive achievement, and it effectively cleared the field for a generation. Even when John Hosler published his study of Henry’s military career in 2007, its specialized focus complimented rather than superseded Warren’s work. Almost a full decade would pass before someone attempted a balanced study of Henry’s life and times, with Richard Barber’s short study soon followed by Claudia Gold’s larger work. Perhaps others will follow.

Nevertheless, it is difficult to deny that Warren’s book remains the go-to biography of Henry. Though Barber’s earlier biography and the ones by Louis Salzman and John Appleby that preceded it are solid enough works, all of them were eclipsed by Warren’s voluminous book. Products of their time, they are best read today for the evolving takes on Henry’s historical image that they provide than for any great historical value on their part, especially as Barber’s recent short study for the Penguin Monarchs series provides a far more efficient and up-to-date introduction to their mutual subject.

Yet while Warren’s study remains the best single work on Henry, Gold’s book is the one I’d recommend to anyone seeking to read just one biography about the king. While it lacks Warren’s comprehensiveness, it more than makes up for it with the clarity of its prose and its exclusion of extraneous or secondary divergences. Her exploration of Henry’s family dynamics is far superior to that of Warren’s, and while I felt that she exaggerates the importance of the Becket feud, it is a minor flaw in what is otherwise the most accessible study of Henry available. The merits of Warren’s older work means that ideally Gold’s should be the last book on this important monarch that anyone should read, but it should by all means serve as their starting point for understanding this fascinating and accomplished individual.

Review of “King of the North Wind: The Life of Henry II in Five Acts” by Claudia Gold

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One of the noticeable trends in medieval history in recent years is the effort to piggyback books off the success of the Games of Thrones franchise. Ever since George R. R. Martin’s brainchild became an international phenomenon, publishers have sought to take advantage of Martin’s explicit debt to medieval history by emphasizing the inspiration provided by various events, or by otherwise invoking an association through marketing. With its evocative title (a nickname given to him by Richard of Poitiers, and one that I have not encountered in any of the previous biographies that I have read) and the jacket copy explicitly beckoning “fans . . . of George RR Martin” to read her book, Claudia Gold’s biography of Henry II is simply marketed more blatantly to exploit the connection.

Yet Gold’s own inspiration is less George R. R. Martin than it is William Shakespeare. This is made explicit both by the structure of her book, which divides her presentation of Henry’s life into five “acts,” and by a prologue which imagines the staging in 1599 of the Bard’s “History of Henry II” at the newly-constructed Globe Theatre. Such an indulgence allows Gold to emphasize the tragic elements of a life which she claims had largely been forgotten today. Given the prominence of not one, but two major movies featuring Peter O’Toole as Henry II – to say nothing of the over half-dozen biographies that I have read before this one – this seems hyperbolic to put it mildly. Such claims may help to justify for readers the books they are buying, but it certainly doesn’t help Gold’s credibility to ignore the substantial presence Henry II enjoys today, especially when compared to most of his predecessors and contemporaries.

Nevertheless, Gold can be forgiven a little overstatement if it helps to draw readers to her book. And those who pick it up will be rewarded with a richly engaging survey of Henry’s life. Gold’s biography is easily the most readable of all the ones on Henry II that I have consumed for this project, which is a real testament to her skills as an author. Her secret weapon in this respect is her focus, which is on Henry himself. Though she addresses the sequence of events that made his reign possible, she avoids any extended examination of the realm he ruled or the politics of Europe during his time. This allows her to maintain her focus on Henry and the remarkable events of his reign.

The “acts” themselves identify the key themes that defined the various points of Henry’s life. From “The Bargain” that made his succession to the throne possible, Gold moves her readers through the “Triumph” of his early years, then the “Pariah” status of resulting from his conflict from Thomas Becket. After reading W. L. Warren’s arguments about the exaggeration of this conflict in accounts of the king’s life, Gold’s emphasis on it seems unnecessarily excessive, if understandable given her focus on the dramatic. This plays out in her final two acts – “Rebellion” and “Nemesis” – which cover his family troubles and his conflict with Louis VII, and which add a tragic coda to her description of the empire Henry had labored so hard to build.

Gold’s approach is not without its flaws, as her approach prioritizes narrative over chronology, which can make it difficult to follow the course of events during Henry’s reign. Yet the gain in her focus and the clear sense she gains from it of the personalities about whom she writes more than justifies the trade-off. With nobody is this truer than with Eleanor of Aquitaine, as Gold’s observations about her among the best that I have read up until now. Given Gold’s focus on women in power in her previous books, it would be interesting to see her follow up this book at some point with one on Henry’s wife, as I suspect she could add something even to that crowded field. Even if she does not, though, we still have this excellent biography of Henry, which goes far in refreshing our perspective on him for a modern age.

Review of “Henry II: A Medieval Soldier at War, 1147-1189” by John D. Hosler

Of the many roles played by medieval monarchs, among the most important was that of soldier. Kings typically were expected to lead their men into war in person, with their ability as a ruler determined in no small measure by their success on the battlefield. This was no less true for Henry II, who reign was punctuated by wars and rebellions. As John Hosler notes, however, Henry’s role as a military commander typically has been overshadowed by his domestic policies, legal reforms, and personal drama. His book seeks to redress this by spotlighting Henry’s military career in such a way as to support his view of Henry as a successful military leader.

This Hosler does in a series of chapters that analyze Henry’s military experience within the context of 12th century military history. After an initial chapter in which Hosler assesses the available sources on his subject, he situates Henry’s military activities within the context of his political career. From there he moves to a more of an analytical focus on Angevin military organization and operations, examining first from where Henry obtained the men for his armies, then the strategy and logistics of his campaigns and the role played by castles and siege warfare. After a chapter detailing the events of the Great Revolt of 1173-4, Hosler then provides a final assessment of Henry as both a general and as a soldier, arguing that his career in the saddle was an “extraordinarily successful” one whose strengths and weaknesses as a commander in war mirrored many of the ones he demonstrated in his other roles as a king.

Hosler’s book provides an interesting examination of an important aspect of Henry’s role as a medieval ruler, and its case is a convincing one. Yet what it is not is a biography of the king. To his credit the author makes no claims to having written one, preferring to focus on filling in the gaps that exist in the ones available. While Hosler’s modesty is commendable, his reluctance to follow in the footsteps of Richard Barber and W. L. Warren (both of whose biographies he identifies as the best on his overall life) limits his achievement. As useful as his book is, given his point about the relative neglect of Henry’s military career, it would have been even more helpful if Hosler had examined it within the context of his other activities as a king. Had he done so, it would have strengthened even further his argument about the importance of Henry’s military role was to his achievements as a ruler, which would in turn have bolstered his claims as to the overall significance of this aspect of his reign.

To have left the reader wanting more can be as much a credit to the author as it is a criticism of the book. Hopefully future biographers will follow Hosler’s lead and feature Henry’s military achievements in their assessment of his reign. It is far too narrow on its own to serve in that role itself, however, which is why this book is read best as a supplement to other studies of Henry’s life and reign.

Review of “Henry II: The Vanquished King” by John T. Appleby

John Appleby came to the field of medieval biography via a circuitous route. Born in Arkansas, he graduated from Harvard with an A.B. and worked as a journalist until the Second World War brought him to England, an experience which inspired his memoir Suffolk Summer. After its publication in 1948, he began work on a biography of King John, a project that led him to translate the Close and Patent Rolls from his reign into Latin. His biography of Henry was his second of an English king, and one that he wrote while serving as associate editor of the American Historical Review, a position in which he served until his death in 1974.

Appleby’s command of medieval sources is well on display in this book, as they serve as the foundation for his examination of Henry’s reign. Unlike most of the other biographies of Henry that I have read so far, it’s one that is squarely focused on Henry as king, as the author provides only a brief sketch of the Anarchy and the events leading to Henry’s assumption of the throne. Though I was grateful for the change of pace after so many biographies that spend so much space on the prelude to Henry’s reign, it foreshadows an almost rigid concentration on Appleby’s subject that takes a strictly chronological approach to recounting his time on the throne.

This in itself is not necessarily a concern. Yet Appleby’s approach is indicative of a far larger problem with his book, which is his narrow focus on recounting details absent any analysis. There is little to no evaluation of the veracity of the sources, and no effort to compare conflicting accounts and assess the possible motivations behind their interpretations. This is particularly problematic when it comes to citing letters, which were often written less to provide a record for historians centuries later than to prompt the addressee to take some action or decision on their behalf. Yet this never seems to cross Appleby’s mind, or perhaps he judges himself not familiar enough with the context to render such judgments.

If it is the latter, then such modesty is commendable. Such caution, however, makes his biography a less-than reliable assessment of Henry’s actions and his legacy as a king. In this respect it embodies what historians dislike most about history written by the untrained scholar, as its exclusion can lead readers to an inaccurate assessment of the subject being written about. In Appleby’s case, with so many better and more recent biographies to choose from, it has largely been eclipsed as a study of Henry and his times.

Review of “Henry II” by L. F. Salzman

Though his name is not prominent today, Louis Francis Salzman was one of the pioneers in the field of economic history. Despite setting out initially to study medicine, an interest in local history led him to switch to a career as a historian. This work led him to write a succession of books about industry and trade in England during the Middle Ages that became cornerstones in their field. Yet Salzman never lost his interest in local history, and was not only a founder of the Sussex Record Society but participated in local archaeological excavations as well. His pen proved incredibly prolific, and extended to the writing of works for children as well.

Salzman’s talent for prose is very much on display in his biography of Henry II. It’s a sprightly read that provides a brisk overview of his life, particularly in comparison with more modern biographers. Whereas Barber and Warren spend considerable space at the start of their books explaining the events of the Anarchy as a way of setting the stage for Henry’s succession, Salzman covers Henry’s ascent to the throne in barely a dozen pages. From there he recounts his subject’s reign in seven chapters, the majority of which are focused in his involvement in one of the many conflicts of his reign, be it with the Welsh, the French, or his own sons.

Yet the one that stands out is the one on “the struggle with Becket.” By far the largest of the chapters, it takes up a fifth of Salzman’s book, which makes the conflict between the two men seem to be the overriding concern of Henry’s reign. Here the contrast with W. L Warren’s analysis of their dispute stood out, to the point where Warren’s observation of the Henry-Becket controversy as somewhat exaggerated seemed a direct commentary on Salzman’s portrayal. What for Warren was largely a low-key conflict between the two men that only became Henry’s dominant concern shortly before Becket’s murder appears in Salzman’s telling the predominant focus of a decade of Henry’s reign. His retelling of it certainly makes for dramatic reading, even if the effect is to overstate its importance.

In this respect it encapsulates perfectly the issue I had with this book. Though Salzman is a fluid writer, his focus on the more dramatic aspects of Henry’s kingship suggests that his primary concern is entertaining rather than informing. This was only reinforced for me by the book’s final three chapters, which follow Salzman’s description of Henry’s final years and his death with description of the social, administrative, and legal aspects of his rule. Crammed as they are at the end, they feel like an afterthought positioned so as to allow disinterested readers to skip over them in favor of the more entertaining aspects of Henry’s life. While this may have been a reflection of the intended audience for this book, like the Becket chapter it leaves the reader with a distorted sense of Henry and his importance to English history.

While some may argue that this is all for the better if it raises historical knowledge, it also raises the question of whether proportion should be sacrificed in the process. Featuring Henry’s conflicts certainly makes for interesting reading, but to me it misses the point of why he is worth reading about today. And while others may disagree, it certainly seems to me that the balance of recounting the various aspects of Henry’s life is better achieved in biographies other than this one, which feels very much an outdated approach to understanding the past.

Review of “Henry II” by W. L. Warren

One of the things that I have come to appreciate through this project is how certain biographies can dominate the study of English monarchs. Though this is not true for all of them, for some monarchs one work ends up becoming the go-to source for students and scholars seeking to learn about the king. It’s probably more than a coincidence, too, that these books tend more often than not to be the volumes on the subject for the English Monarchs series. Whether it’s Frank Barlow’s book on Edward the Confessor or David Douglas’s on William the Conqueror, the depth of their examination and the quality of their scholarship ensured that they defined our understanding of that monarch for decades after they were first published.

Such is the case with Wilfred Lewis Warren’s biography of Henry II. Though first published a half-century ago, judging from the footnotes that I’ve seen in other places it remains the go-to source on his life and reign. And after reading it for myself it’s easy to see why it enjoys this status. It’s a formidable tome of a book, one that offers an account of Henrys life situated within the context of six decades of English history. Henry himself is virtually absent from the first chapter-and-a-half of the book, as Warren recounts the events that made it possible for Henry to become king, from William Adelin’s death on the White Ship through the key events of the Anarchy. It’s a good an overview of the events of the latter as any that I’ve read so far, and it argues effectively for the motivations and consequences of the players involved.

After situating Henry on the English throne Warren then provides a chronological survey of Henry’s first three decades as king. Not only does this offer a good synopsis of the key developments that defined much of his reign, it serves as a springboard into Warren’s analytical examination of Henry’s rule. While focused on England and its associated realms, unlike many of the other biographers of Norman and Plantagenet monarchs he incorporates coverage of Henry’s Angevin territories into his analysis. This was particularly welcome after its virtual absence from Barber’s books, as to cover a monarch’s rule over only part of his realm is to distort the understanding of the king’s concerns and how he addressed them. Warren’s more comprehensive approach also meant that he does a far better job of explaining how Henry restored stable government to England after the violence of the Anarchy, even if he credits the king more for reviving and expanding his grandfather’s innovations in government rather than devising whole new systems on his own.

But perhaps the most intriguing part of the book for me was his coverage of Henry’s quarrel with Thomas Becket. This was one of those subjects that, thanks to its cultural presence, shaped much of what I knew about Henry prior to starting this project. Yet while giving it due attention Warren makes an interesting case that its role in burdening Henry’s reign has been greatly overstated, as he notes that it was only in the final stages that it consumed Henry’s attention and led him to his fatal expression of frustration. Though Becket was well suited for the mantle of martyrdom, Warren also argues that it proved less beneficial for his cause, as Henry’s contrition plus the reluctance of other bishops to identify with Becket limited the extent of the concessions he was forced to make afterwards to restore peace between Church and crown.

This fits with his generally positive portrayal of Henry, one that ends with a tone of sorrow over his subject’s troubled relationship with his ambitious sons and their quarrels over the succession.  Warren never lets his sympathy for Henry sympathy color his analysis of the king, however, as he offers acute judgments that are all the more persuasive for the clear prose in which they’re offered. The author’s gift for delivering perceptive points in a direct and coherent way helps to explain why the book has become such an influential study of the king and his era. Though its size may deter some, for those who persevere they are likely to finish it with as clear and as thorough an understanding of Henry and his reign as is possible to find between the covers of a single book. It is a hard act for the others to follow.