The Third Crusade: an Early Mishap at Lyon, 10 July 1190

by Charlene Newcomb

King Richard I

When Richard became King of England in 1189 the pilgrimage to the Holy Land to free Jerusalem became his top priority. After his coronation, Richard set the kingdom in order and raised monies to support the undertaking. Richard’s fleet sailed towards Gibraltar intending to meet him in Marseille. His army of pilgrims – or crusaders, as we refer to them now – gathered in Tours in the spring of 1190. By early July, Richard and King Philip of France concluded discussions at Vézelay setting the conditions of their cooperation.

From Vézelay, the pilgrims marched south towards Lyon. Contemporary chroniclers describe the locals’ reactions and the grandeur of the armies, thousands strong. The discipline of the soldiers impressed them. “Who could stand against their force? What a beautiful company, what handsome youths!” Ambroise and the author of the Itinerarium claim the English and French troops numbered near 100,000 – a huge exaggeration. We can only estimate the actual numbers. Author David Miller suggests that when the army began its coastal march south from Acre in August 1191, the French and English forces numbered approximately 1,600 knights and over 14,000 foot soldiers.

On the 10th of July in 1190, Richard and Philip arrived in Lyon. The mishap here on the River Rhône – early in the crusade timeline – could have proven disastrous. In his Annals, Roger de Hoveden writes,

When they had arrived at the city of Lyons on the Rhone, after they with the greater part of their households had passed over the bridge across that river, the bridge, being thronged with men and women, broke down, not without doing injury to great numbers. Here also the two kings separated…

A second account of the incident comes from Ambroise. He describes the scene as utter chaos. Hundreds of people, animals, and wagons plummeted into the rapidly-raging river:

But those who in the morning passed?
Crowded the bridge so thick and fast?
Misfortune did them overtake.
For one span of the bridge did break
Because of the waters treacherous,
Swollen so high and perilous.
For weight of men more than an hundred
O’ertaxed the pine arch till it sundered;
The arch fell and they tumbled in,
And there were shouting, groans and din…

The Itinerarium mentions that the bridge was extremely high, the drop to the river below far enough that many could have died. Onlookers raced to pull victims from the swift current. Incredibly, the chroniclers report that only two people died. Were the numbers underreported, reflecting only those of noble birth? Many historians suggest only "important" deaths were recorded, and therefore, we will never know the true death toll.

De Hoveden has no further comment on the aftermath of the bridge collapse. None of the accounts reflect whether King Richard witnessed the incident, but the Itinerarium describes those who had not yet crossed the river as “at wit’s end.” None wanted to be left behind. The chronicler claims Richard oversaw the construction of a floating bridge built of boats lashed together. The king would have read of the idea in De Re Militari, a treatise of military principles and practices written by Publius Falvius Vegetius Renatus. Amboise does not mention the bridge of boats, but writes that small skiffs were used to ferry people to the opposite riverbank. Both accounts indicate the incident delayed the march south by three days.

What gives one pause is that one month earlier and two thousand miles away, the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa met his fate at the Saleph River in Turkey. His horse slipped and Frederick fell into the river and drowned. It was a devastating blow for his followers, only one-third to one-quarter of whom – perhaps 5,000 men – continued on to the Holy Land. During the siege of Acre, these troops reported to Duke Leopold of Austria, a man who would become King Richard’s bitter enemy.

What if the Lionheart had been on the bridge when it collapsed and had died at Lyon? Would Richard’s forces have been thrown into disarray as Barbarossa’s had? Would Philip of France have forsaken the pilgrimage to pursue his desires to regain French territory and to remove the Angevins from the continent? Christians besieging Acre would have been left without reinforcements. They were in dire straits, having suffered repeated attacks by Saladin’s forces. It is likely the siege of Acre would have failed. Acre, other coastal towns, and Jerusalem would remain in Muslim hands. The Third Crusade might not have been.

Sources 

Ambroise. (1976). The crusade of Richard Lion-Heart. (Trans. by M.J. Hubert.) New  York: Octagon.

De Hoveden, R. (1853).  The annals of Roger de Hoveden, comprising the history of England and of other countries of Europe from A. D. 732 to A. D. 1201. (Henry T. Riley, Trans.). London: H. G. Bohn. (Original work published 1201?)

Miller, D. (2003). Richard the Lionheart: the mighty crusader. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson.

Nicholson, H., & Stubbs, W., trans. (1997). Chronicle of the third crusade : A translation of the itinerarium peregrinorum et gesta regis ricardi. Aldershot, Hants, England ; Brookfield, Vt.: Ashgate.

Painting of Richard I by Merry-Joseph Blondel. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

An earlier version of this post was originally published at http://charlenenewcomb.com/2014/07/10/10-july-1190-the-bridge-on-the-river-rhone/ , and published on EHFA on July 9, 2015.

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Charlene Newcomb is the author of the Battle Scars series, 12th century historical fiction filled with war, political intrigue, and a knightly romance of forbidden love set during the reign of Richard the Lionheart. She is currently working on a new medieval tale set during King John’s reign; and in summer 2020 will publish Echoes of the Storm, a sci fi/space opera filled with rebels and traitors and battles and romance in a galaxy far, far away (no, not Star Wars). Sign up for Char’s Newsletter for exclusives, including a free short story, and other special offers. Find her books on Amazon & connect with Char on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.

On Becoming an Officer and a Gentleman

by Maria Grace

In the Regency era, social status was closely related to career and wealth. An Army or Navy officer was considered a gentleman. Thus a man could gain an element of “respectability” by purchasing a commission that they might not hold by virtue of their birth or fortune. Moreover, an officer’s status was considered higher than that of other accepted gentlemanly professions: the church, the law and medicine.

Why were commissions purchased?

Though our modern sensibilities tend to be uncomfortable with the concept of buying a commission, in the Regency era, the belief was that paying for the rank meant that only men of fortune, character, and who had a real interest in the fate of the nation would be drawn to the military, thus reducing the number of unworthies serving in the officer’s ranks. Furthermore, since officers ‘owned’ their commission, they would be more responsible with their ‘property’ than someone with nothing to lose. Private ownership of rank also implied officers would be less likely to be used by the King against the people since they did not owe their rank to the crown.

The purchase of commissions also served a practical purpose. The price paid for a commission served as a sort of nest egg for the officer, returned to him when he ‘sold out’ and retired. Thus there was no need to provide pensions for retiring officers, a definite advantage to the crown. 

These nest eggs were particularly necessary because army pay was low, enough to live on but not much more, particularly if one sought to maintain the standard of living of a wealthy family. In general, officers' honorarium (as gentlemen they did not take salaries) were just less than the amount of interest that could be earned by the cost of the commission. It was widely accepted that gentlemen should not profit from their military service. (Prize money, when it could be had, was a different thing.)  Many sons of wealthy parents who joined the army also had an allowance from their families that helped them to live in the style to which they had been accustomed. 

Purchasing a commission

Reforms set in place by the Duke of York in 1796 mandated that officer candidates had to be between the ages of 16 and 21 years of age, able to read and write, and vouched for by a superior officer. Once these were fulfilled, the required sum of money would be deposited with an authorized Regimental Agent who would submit the applicant’s documentation for approval. Depending on the regiment, officers began their careers at a ‘Subaltern’ rank of Ensign, Second Lieutenant or Coronet. Little to no training was provided for the newly fledged officer, he picked up what he would need on the job.

How much did a commission cost?

Commissions were expensive. One had to be wealthy or have wealthy friends from which to borrow in order to afford a commission. Prices varied depending on the regiment and rank. (Keep in mind a very rough reference point of £50 a year as parallel to our minimum wage.) Subaltern rank ranged in price from £400 with the Infantry to £1050 with the Horse Guards. Lieutenant Colonel ranged from £3500 to £4950.

The same logic that led to the purchase of commissions discouraged promotion by merit as it could lead to an excess of patronage, something objected to on political and professional grounds. When an officer served long enough to be eligible and wished to purchase a promotion to the next level of rank, he would pay the difference between his current commission and the next rank. After 1795, a Subaltern (Lieutenant and below) had to serve at least three years before becoming a Captain; at least seven years in service (two as Captain) to become a Major; and nine years in service to be a Lieutenant-Colonel. Advancement above the rank of Colonel was by seniority only and only possible if there were vacancies in the desired ranks. Junior officers could spend several years without advancing.

Gaining a commission without purchase

If an individual could not afford a commission, there were non-purchased ways of obtaining a commission. A man could become a “Gentlemen Volunteer.” To do so, he would apply to the Commanding Officer of a regiment to serve at their own expense in the hope of filling a non-purchase vacancy when (and if) it occurred.

It was also possible for a man to be promoted from the ranks due to valor or meritorious service. The death, disability, or retirement, of another officer might create a vacancy that needed to be filled immediately. Other openings came with the establishment of new Regiments, or the expansion of existing ones. These alternatives were much more common in times of war.

References:

A Background on War.   

Boyle, Laura.(2001) Jane Austen Centre On Line Magazine.  Advancement in the British Army  

Boyle, Laura.(2001) Jane Austen Centre On Line Magazine. Entry into the OfficerCorps

Boyle, Laura.(2001) Jane Austen Centre On Line Magazine.  Prices of Officer’s Commissions

Day, Malcom. (2006) Voices from the World of Jane. Austen David & Charles .

Holmes, Richard.  (2001).   Redcoat, the British Soldier in the Age of Horse and Musket. W. W. Norton & Company 

Southam, Brian  (2005). Jane Austen in Context.  Janet M. Todd ed. Cambridge University Press

Maria Grace is the author of Darcy's Decision and The Future Mrs. Darcy. Click here to find her books on Amazon. For more on her writing and other Random Bits of Fascination, visit her website. You can also like her on Facebook or email

'Let the Cat out of the bag...'

By Jonathan Hopkins

 

 Flogging - the very word conjures images of backs scarred for life by the instrument of this largely military form of torture - the cat o’ nine tails.

The British army and navy of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries comprised huge numbers of ‘volunteers’. Whether these men took ‘the King’s shilling’, were made offers they could not refuse by magistrates or were legally ‘impressed’ to serve by navy shore-parties, many proved unsuited to military life and its harsh discipline. Theft and insubordination, even violence and desertion, were commonplace.

To maintain order a simple to administer punishment was needed, the severity of which could be varied to fit the crime. Not only that but it had to be enough of a deterrent to plant fear in the hearts of potential offenders. Flogging was such a punishment. And the preferred instrument of martial law was the Cat O’ Nine Tails.

Widely used by the end of the 17^th century, the cat was a whip made from heavy cable (rope).  A four-foot length was split into its three component strands to produce a two-and-a-half foot tail, each strand being separated again into three to produce the requisite nine ‘tails’. These were knotted at the free ends to prevent fraying and the handle part then back-spliced both to provide a good handgrip and stop it unravelling, though in later examples the nine lashes were bound to wooden handles. Once made the cat was stored in a canvas or baize bag ready for use, from whence the title of this post comes.

Methods of punishment was roughly similar in army and navy. The guilty man would be tied hand and foot to some suitable structure: in the navy a ship’s grating (hold cover) tied upright, in the army a triangle made of three sergeant’s halberds lashed together. Apparently cavalry regiments, which had no halberds, habitually used a vertical ladder. The ship’s crew or soldier’s regiment were formed up and made to watch, presumably to remind them of the consequences of rule-breaking.

A drum-major, cavalry farrier-major or boatswain administered the punishment, the number of strokes having been previously agreed at the victim’s trial. Men chosen for this task needed to practice: the whip had to be applied only across shoulders and upper back , avoiding the more vulnerable neck and kidney areas. 25 lashes was considered a minimum number of strokes in the army, with 1200 the maximum allowed. The latter was almost a death sentence, to be administered only to the most serious offenders. And to ensure the prisoner was fit to take his punishment, a surgeon had to be present. He could step in at any time to stop the flogging if the condemned man lost consciousness, or too much blood, but if the punishment was curtailed for medical reasons that might not be the end of it. The man was allowed to recover, for days or weeks, before whatever remained of his sentence was carried out.

In the navy a seaman might be flogged ‘around the fleet’ as an example to others, his sentence in number of lashes being divided between ships. After having the requisite number on his own vessel he would be cut down and taken by tender to the next where he was re-tied and ‘catted’ again.

A navy rope cat was usually replaced after a single use unless a number of men were being flogged when it would be scrubbed in a bucket of seawater between prisoners. Unbeknown to those involved this made navy floggings less likely to result in infected wounds, when added to the fact navy punishments were often for fewer lashes. Seamen were less easily replaced than landsmen, and one who could not do his job while flogging wounds healed not only meant his shipmates had to cover his work as well as their own but his absence from duty might compromise the ship’s performance in action. Notwithstanding this it is reckoned more than 50 men were flogged for various offences aboard Victory in the weeks before the Battle of Trafalgar. And on the already horrendous retreat to Corunna in 1809 General Edward Paget had drawn his regiments of the rearguard into a square ready to flog three men for looting when he was told the enemy were only several hundred yards behind them!

Despite the Duke of Wellington’s insistence his ‘scum of the earth; could not be controlled without the lash, George III was never fond of flogging, and as the 19^th century drew on the number of lashes permissible was reduced. Perhaps the increasing use of whipcord and leather-thonged cats caused more severe injury in fewer strokes than the original rope whips. With the rise of more effective communications, increased awareness of the effects of flogging caused disquiet among the general population, and several high profile cases where men died after being whipped hastened the end of the cat: its use was abolished on mainland Britain in 1871. It could still be used abroad, however.

The navy kept the cat, but use declined until in 1879 it too was banned by the Admiralty. The writing was on the wall, and following the senior service’s lead, the following year the army got rid of the lash. The last British soldier was flogged in July 1880, in Afghanistan, for sleeping on sentry duty. The ban was confirmed by Act of Parliament the following year.

The reminders were a few horribly scarred backs, and soon they too were lost to time until only a phrase remained...

Jonathan usually writes about British cavalry during the Napoleonic Wars.
Find out more at Cavalrytales