Modern Management Concepts and Skills 14th Edition Certo Test Bank 1

Modern Management Concepts and Skills
14th Edition Certo Test Bank
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Modern Management, 14e (Certo)
Chapter 5 Plans and Planning Tools
1) The process of determining how an organization can get where it wants to go and what it will
do to accomplish its objectives is known as ________.
A) organizing
B) influencing
C) planning
D) controlling
E) analyzing
Answer: C
Learning Obj.: LO 5.1: An understanding of the general characteristics of planning
Difficulty: Easy
Classification: Concept
2) The protective purpose of planning is to ________.

A) ensure integration among the organization's various business units
B) increase the degree of organizational success
C) optimize the use of organizational resources
D) minimize risk by reducing the uncertainties surrounding business conditions
E) maximize the organization's ability to leverage environmental opportunities
Answer: D
Difficulty: Moderate
1
Copyright © 2016 Pearson Education, Inc.
3) The affirmative purpose of planning is to ________.

A) increase the degree of organizational success
B) increase the level of workplace diversity
C) optimize the use of organizational resources
D) refine work methods and reduce production costs
E) improve organizational compliance with industry standards
Answer: A
4) Which of the following is the fundamental purpose of planning?

A) eliminating risk
B) helping the organization reach its objectives
C) optimizing the use of resources
D) identifying organizational objectives
E) organizing work processes
Answer: B
Difficulty: Easy
5) Which of the following is an advantage of planning?

A) It eliminates all risks.
B) It enhances decision coordination.
C) It emphasizes immediate goals.
D) It suboptimizes the use of resources.
E) It promotes individual performance.
Answer: B
AACSB: Analytical Thinking
6) A disadvantage of planning is that it ________.

A) causes managers to focus on the future
B) reduces organizational flexibility once plans are set
C) requires organizational resources
D) can take up too much managerial time
E) involves planning for situations that may not occur
Answer: D
2
7) ________ refers to what a firm exists to do, given a particular group of customers and
customer needs.
A) An operational plan
B) A unique selling proposition
C) An organizational purpose
D) A long-term goal
E) A vision statement
Answer: C
Difficulty: Easy
8) Which of the following is an example of a statement of organizational purpose?

A) to increase the company's market share by 20 percent by 2011
B) to execute all projects in a timely and professional manner
C) to be the leading provider of professional health care services
D) to provide our employees with a challenging and rewarding work environment
E) to build long-lasting customer relationships based on trust
Answer: C
Classification: Application
9) The Planning function is directly connected to which of these other managerial functions?
A) Leading
B) Organizing
C) Controlling
D) Directing
E) Moderating
Answer: C
Difficulty: Challenging
Classification: Critical Thinking
10) A purpose of planning intended to minimize risk by reducing uncertainties in the managerial
environment is known as ________ planning.
A) assumption
B) tactical
C) protective
D) elimination
E) premise
Answer: C
3
11) Walt Biggs is general manager at a plumbing contractor. He is currently working on
designing the procedures and policies the company will use as it schedules its employees on
customer projects. Which of the following managerial functions is Walt undertaking?
A) planning
B) organizing
C) influencing
D) controlling
E) evaluating
Answer: A
Classification: Analytical
12) Planning is the process of determining how the organization can get where it wants to go and
what it will do to accomplish its objectives.
Answer: TRUE
Difficulty: Easy
4
13) A potential disadvantage of planning is that it can take up too much managerial time.
Answer: TRUE
Difficulty: Easy
14) Plans fail when management fails to grasp the overall planning process.
Answer: TRUE
15) What is planning? What are the advantages and potential disadvantages of planning?
Answer: Planning is the process of determining how the organization can get where it wants to
go, and what it will do to accomplish its objectives.
A vigorous planning program produces many benefits. First, it helps managers to be future-
oriented. They are forced to look beyond their everyday problems to project what situations may
confront them in the future. Second, a sound-planning program enhances decision coordination.
Third, planning emphasizes organizational objectives. Because organizational objectives are the
starting points for planning, managers are continually reminded of exactly what their
organization is trying to accomplish. Planning does not eliminate risk, but it does help managers
identify and deal with organizational problems before they cause havoc in a business.
If the planning function is not well executed, planning can have several disadvantages for the
organization. For example, an overemphasized planning program can take up too much
managerial time. Managers must strike an appropriate balance between time spent on planning
and time spent on organizing, influencing, and controlling. If they don't, some activities that are
extremely important to the success of the organization may be neglected. Overall, the advantages
of planning definitely outweigh the disadvantages. Usually, the disadvantages of planning result
from using the planning function incorrectly.
5
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from its lofty ideal; military exercises were neglected for the pleasures
and luxury of the court; the making of a knight, in theory a matter almost
as solemn as the making of a priest, was sinking into a mere
commonplace formality;[1593] and the consequences were beginning to
be felt on the Welsh border.[1594] John was moved to contrast the present
insecurity of the marches with their splendid defence in Harold’s time,
[1595] and to lament that William the Conqueror, in his desire to make his
little insular world share the glories of the greater world beyond the sea,
had allowed the naturally rich and self-sufficing island to be flooded
with luxuries of which it had no need, and thus fostered rather than
checked the indolent disposition which had helped to bring its people
under his sway.[1596]
[1588] Polycraticus de Nugis Curialium et Vestigiis Philosophorum.
[1589] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. i. prolog. (Giles, vol. iii. p. 13).
[1590] This is the idea which runs through the whole of Polycraticus, and
indeed through all John’s writings. It is neatly expressed in two lines of his
Entheticus (vv. 305, 306, Giles, vol. v. p. 248):
“Si verus Deus est hominum sapientia vera,
Tunc amor est veri philosophia Dei.”
[1591] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. i. c. 4 (Giles, vol. iii. pp. 19–32).
[1592] Ib. l. v. c. 15 (p. 322). Cf. cc. 10, 11 (pp. 300–311). Pet. Blois, Ep.
xcv. (Giles, vol. i. p. 297), makes a like play on the title of the judges.
[1593] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. vi. cc. 2, 3, 5, 8–10 (Giles, vol. iv. pp. 8–
12, 15, 16, 20–23).
[1594] Ib. cc. 6, 16 (pp. 16, 17, 39, 40).
[1595] Ib. c. 6 (p. 18).
[1596] Ib. l. viii. c. 7 (p. 238).
The ills of the state had each its counterpart in the Church; the
extortions and perversions of justice committed by the secular judges
were paralleled by those of the ecclesiastical officials, deans and
archdeacons;[1597] and at the bottom of the mischief lay the old root of all
evil. Simony was indeed no longer public; spiritual offices were no
longer openly bought with hard cash; but they were bought with court-
interest instead;[1598] the Church’s most sacred offices were filled by men
who came straight from the worldly life of the court to a charge for
which they were utterly unfit;[1599] although, in deference to public
opinion, they were obliged to go through an elaborate shew of
reluctance, and Scripture and hagiology were ransacked for examples of
converted sinners, which were always found sufficient to meet any
objections against a candidate for consecration and to justify any
appointment, however outrageous.[1600] All the sins of the worldly
churchmen, however, scarcely move John’s pure soul to such an outburst
of scathing sarcasm as he pours upon the “false brethren” who sought
their advancement in a more subtle way, by a shew of counterfeit
piety:—the ultra-monastic, ultra-ascetic school, with their overdone zeal
and humility, and their reliance on those pernicious exemptions from
diocesan jurisdiction which the religious orders vied with each other in
procuring from Rome, and which were destroying all discipline and
subverting all rightful authority.[1601]
[1597] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. v. c. 15 (vol. iii. pp. 327, 328).
[1598] Ib. l. vii. c. 18 (vol. iv. pp. 149, 152).
[1599] Ib. l. v. c. 15 (vol. iii. p. 329).
[1600] Ib. l. vii. cc. 18, 19 (vol. iv. pp. 149–152, 156–158).
[1601] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. vii. c. 21 (Giles, vol. iv. pp. 169–178). It is
to be noted that the two orders which John considers to be least infected with
this hypocrisy are those of the Chartreuse and of Grandmont. Ib. c. 23 (pp.
180, 181).
Over against the picture of the world and the Church as they actually
were, the disciple of Archbishop Theobald sets his ideal of both as they
should be—as the primate and his children aimed at making them. For
John’s model commonwealth, built up in a somewhat disjointed fashion
on a foundation partly of Holy Writ and partly of classic antiquity, is not,
like the great Utopia of the sixteenth century, the product of one single,
exceptionally constituted mind; it is a reflection of the plans and hopes of
those among whom John lived and worked, and thus it helps us to see
something of the line of thought which had guided their action in the past
and which moulded their schemes for the future. Like all medieval
theorists, they began at the uppermost end of the social and political
scale; they started from a definite view of the rights and duties of the
king, as the head on which all the lower members of the body politic
depended. The divine right of kings, the divine ordination of the powers
that be, were fundamental doctrines which they understood in a far wider
and loftier sense than the king-worshippers of the seventeenth century:—
which they employed not to support but to combat the perverted theory
that “the sovereign’s will has the force of law,” already creeping in
through the influence of the imperial jurisprudence;[1602]—and which
were no less incompatible with the principle of invariable hereditary
succession. “Lands and houses and suchlike things must needs descend
to the next in blood; but the government of a people is to be given only
to him whom God has chosen thereto, even to him who has God’s Spirit
within him and God’s law ever before his eyes. . . . Not that for the
mere love of change it is lawful to forsake the blood of princes, to whom
by the privilege of the divine promises and by the natural claims of birth
the succession of their children is justly due, if only they walk according
to right. Neither, if they turn aside from the right way, are they to be
immediately cast off, but patiently admonished till it become evident that
they are obstinate in their wickedness”[1603]—then, and then only, shall
the axe be laid to the root of the corrupt tree, and it shall cumber the
ground no more.[1604]
[1602] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. iv. c. 7 (vol. iii. p. 241).
[1603] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. v. c. 6 (Giles, vol. iii. p. 278).
[1604] Ib. l. iv. c. 12 (pp. 259, 260).
Such was the moral which the wisest and most thoughtful minds in
England drew from the lessons of the anarchy. On a like principle, it was
in the growth of a more definite and earnest sense of individual duty and
responsibility, as opposed to the selfish lawlessness which had so long
prevailed, that they trusted for the regeneration of society. They sought to
teach the knights to live up to the full meaning of their vows and the true
objects of their institution—the protection of the Church, the suppression
of treason, the vindication of the rights of the poor, the pacification of the
country;[1605] so that the consecration of their swords upon the altar at
their investiture should be no empty form, but, according to its original
intention, a true symbol of the whole character of their lives and, if need
be, of their deaths.[1606] And then side by side with the true knight would
stand the true priest:—both alike soldiers of the Cross, fighting in the
same cause though with different weapons—figured, according to John’s
beautiful application of a text which medieval reformers never wearied
of expounding, by the “two swords” which the Master had declared
“enough” for His servants, all the lawless undisciplined activity of self-
seekers and false brethren being merely the “swords and staves” of the
hostile multitude.[1607] Into a detailed examination of the rights or the
duties of the various classes of the people no one in those days thought it
necessary to enter; their well-being and well-doing were regarded as
dependent upon those of their superiors, and the whole question of the
relation between rulers and ruled—“head and feet,” according to the
simile which John borrows from Plutarch—was solved by the
comprehensive formula, “Every one members one of another.”[1608] To
watch over and direct the carrying-out of this principle was the special
work of the clergy; and the clerical reformers were jealous for the rights
of their order because, as understood by them, they represented and
covered the rights of the whole nation; the claims which they put forth in
the Church’s name were a protest in behalf of true civil and religious
liberty against tyranny on the one hand and license on the other.[1609]
“For there is nothing more glorious than freedom, save virtue; if indeed
freedom may rightly be severed from virtue—for all who know anything
aright know that true freedom has no other source.”[1610]
[1605] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. vi. c. 8 (vol. iv. p. 21).
[1606] Ibid. c. 10 (p. 23). Cf. Pet. Blois, Ep. xciv. (Giles, vol. i. pp. 291–
296).
[1607] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. vi. c. 8 (Giles, vol. iv. p. 21). John’s use of
the text is perhaps only a generalization from S. Bernard’s application of it to
Suger and the count of Nevers, left regents of France in 1149. Odo of Deuil,
Rer. Gall. Scriptt., vol. xii. p. 93.
[1608] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. vi. c. 20 (as above, pp. 51, 52).
[1609] Ib. l. vii. c. 20 (pp. 161–169).
[1610] Ibid. c. 25 (p. 192).
How far these lofty views had made their way into the high places of
the Church it was as yet scarcely possible to judge. The tone of the
English episcopate had certainly undergone a marked change for the
better during the last six years of Stephen’s reign. Theobald’s hopes
must, however, have been chiefly in the rising generation. Of the existing
bishops there was only one really capable of either helping or hindering
the work which the primate had at heart; for Henry of Winchester,
although his royal blood, his stately personality and his long and
memorable career necessarily made him to his life’s end an important
figure in both Church and state, had ceased to take an active part in the
affairs of either, and for several years lived altogether away from
England, in his boyhood’s home at Cluny.[1611] A far more weighty
element in the calculations of the reforming party was the character and
policy of the bishop of Hereford, Gilbert Foliot. From the circumstances
in which we find Gilbert’s relatives in England,[1612] it seems probable
that he belonged to one of the poorer Norman families of knightly rank
who came over either in the train of the great nobles of the conquest or in
the more peaceful immigration under Henry I. His youth is lost in
obscurity; of his education we know nothing, save by its fruits. Highly
gifted as he unquestionably was by nature, even his inborn genius could
hardly have enabled him to acquire his refined and varied scholarship,
his unrivalled mastery of legal, political and ecclesiastical lore, his
profound and extensive knowledge of men and things, anywhere but in
some one or other of the universities of the day. It is curious that
although Gilbert’s extant correspondence is one of the most voluminous
of the time—extending over nearly half a century, and addressed to
persons of the most diverse ranks, parties, professions and nationalities
—it contains not one allusion to the studies or the companions of his
youth, not one of those half playful, half tender reminiscences of student-
triumphs, student-troubles and student-friendships, which were so fresh
in the hearts and in the letters of many distinguished contemporaries.
Only from an appeal made to him, when bishop of London, in behalf of
his old benefactor’s orphan and penniless children, do we learn that he
had once been the favourite pupil, the ward, almost the adoptive son, of a
certain Master Adam.[1613] It is tempting, but perhaps hardly safe, to
conjecture that this Master Adam was the learned Englishman of that
name who in like manner befriended another young fellow-countryman,
John of Salisbury, when he too was studying in Paris.[1614] This,
however, was not till Gilbert Foliot’s student-days had long been past.
Wherever his youth may have been spent, wherever his reputation may
have been acquired, the one was quite over and the other was fully
established before 1139, when he had been already for some years a
monk of Cluny, had attained the rank of prior in the mother-house, and
had thence been promoted to become the head of the dependent priory of
Abbeville.[1615]
[1611] He went there in 1155 (Rob. Torigni, ad ann.), and does not
reappear in England till March 1159 (Palgrave, Eng. Commonwealth, vol. ii.
p. xii).
[1612] See his letters passim.
[1613] Gilb. Foliot, Epp. dxv., dxvii. (Giles, vol. ii. pp. 323, 324, 326).
The writer of the first is “Ranulfus de Turri”; the second is anonymous. Both
appeal earnestly to the bishop’s charity and gratitude in behalf of “J. filius A.
magistri quondam vestri, procuratoris vestri, tutoris vestri. . . . Hæreat
animo sanctitatis vestræ illa M. Adæ circa vos curarum gravitas, alimoniæ
fœcunditas, diligentia doctrinæ, specialis impensa benivolentiæ. Quis hodie
proprios liberos regit providentius, educat uberius, instruit attentius, diligit
ferventius? Sic pæne amor ille modum excessit, ut vos diligeret non quasi
excellenter, sed quasi singulariter . . . qui vos aliquando pro filio adoptavit”
(Ep. dxv.). “Tangat memoriam vestram illa M. Adæ circa vos curarum
gravitas, doctrinæ profunditas, alimoniæ ubertas, postremo fervens, immo
ardens caritas. Hæreat animo vestro quantâ curâ, quali amplexu, quam
speciali privilegio, illa doctoris vestri, procuratoris, tutoris, diligens vigilantia
vos non modo supra familiares, verum supra quoslibet mortales adoptaverit,
qualiterque ejus spiritus in vestro, ut ita dicam, spiritu quieverit.” Ep. dxvii.
[1614] See above, p. 482. In any case, Gilbert’s Master Adam is surely a
somewhat interesting person, of whom one would like to know more. This
was the condition of his eldest son, when commended to the gratitude of
Gilbert: “Pater ejus cum fati munus impleret, filium reliquit ære alieno
gravatum, fratrum numerositate impeditum, redituum angustiis constrictum,
et quibusdam aliis nexibus intricatum.” Gilb. Foliot, Ep. dxvii. (Giles, vol. ii.
p. 326). “Onerant enim eum supra modum redituum angustiæ, debitorum
paternorum sarcinæ, amicorum raritas, fratrum sororumque pluralitas et
reliquæ sarcinæ parentelæ.” Ep. dxv. (ib. p. 323).
[1615] Gilb. Foliot, Ep. cclxix. (Giles, vol. i. p. 366).
In 1139 the abbot of S. Peter’s at Gloucester died; Miles the constable,

the lord of Gloucester castle and sheriff of the county, and the greatest
man of the district after Earl Robert himself, secured the vacant office
for Gilbert Foliot,[1616] who was a family connexion of his own.[1617]
The abbey of S. Peter at Gloucester, founded as a nunnery in the seventh
century, changed into a college of secular priests after the Danish wars,
and finally settled as a house of Benedictine monks in the reign of Cnut,
had risen to wealth and fame under its first Norman abbot, Serlo, some
of whose work still survives in the nave of his church, now serving as the
cathedral church of Gloucester. Gloucester itself, the capital of Earl
Robert’s territories, was still, like Hereford and Shrewsbury, a border-
city whose inhabitants had to be constantly on their guard against the
thievery and treachery of the Welsh, who, though often highly useful to
their English earl as auxiliary forces in war, were anything but loyal
subjects or trustworthy neighbours. The position of abbot of S. Peter’s
therefore was at all times one of some difficulty and anxiety; and Gilbert
entered upon it at a specially difficult and anxious time. Stephen’s assent
to his appointment can hardly have been prompted by favour to Miles,
who had openly defied the king a year ago; he may have been influenced
by fear of giving fresh offence to such a formidable deserter, or he may
simply have been, as we are told, moved by the report of Gilbert’s great
merits.[1618] The new abbot proved quite worthy of his reputation. His
bitterest enemies always admitted that he was a pattern of monastic
discipline and personal asceticism; and his admirable judgement,
moderation and prudence soon made him a personage of very high
authority in the counsels of the English Church. Holding such an
important office in the city which was the head-quarters of the Empress’s
party throughout the greater part of the civil war, he of course had his
full share of the troubles of the anarchy, whereof Welsh inroads counted
among the least. There is no doubt that in bringing him to England Miles
had, whether intentionally or not, brought over one who sympathized
strongly with the Angevin cause; but Gilbert’s sympathies led him into
no political partizanship. During his nine years’ residence at Gloucester
he consistently occupied the position which seems to have been his ideal
through life: that of a churchman pure and simple, attached to no mere
party in either Church or state, but ready to work with each and all for
the broad aims of ecclesiastical order and national tranquillity. That these
aims came at last to be identified with the success of the Angevin party
was a result of circumstances over which Gilbert had no control. He was
honoured, consulted and trusted by the most diverse characters among
the bishops. Mere abbot of a remote monastery as he was, Nigel of Ely
was glad to be recommended by him to Pope Celestine, Jocelyn of
Salisbury to Lucius, and Alexander of Lincoln to Eugene III.[1619] He
was treated almost as an equal not only by his own diocesan Bishop
Simon of Worcester, by his neighbour Robert of Hereford, and by
Jocelyn of Salisbury, but even by the archbishop of Canterbury and the
legate Henry of Winchester; and he writes in the tone of a patron and
adviser to Bishop Uhtred of Landaff and to the heads of the religious
houses on the Welsh border.[1620] He seems indeed to have been the usual
medium of communication between the Church in the western shires and
its primate at far-off Canterbury, who evidently found him a trustworthy
and useful agent in managing the very troublesome Church affairs of the
Welsh marches during the civil war.
[1616] Flor. Worc. Contin. (Thorpe), vol. ii. p. 114. Hist. Monast. S. Pet.
Gloc. (Riley), vol. i. p. 18.
[1617] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 162.
[1618] Flor. Worc. Contin., a. 1139 (Thorpe, vol. ii. p. 114). Hist. S. Pet.
Gloc. (Riley), vol. i. p. 18.
[1619] Gilb. Foliot, Epp. v., xi., xxv. (Giles, vol. i. pp. 12, 22, 37).
[1620] See his correspondence while abbot of Gloucester; Gilb. Foliot

Opp. (Giles), vol. i. pp. 3–94.
When at last the storm subsided and a turn of the tide came with the
spring of 1148, Theobald openly shewed his confidence in the abbot of
Gloucester by commanding his attendance on that journey to Reims
which the king had forbidden, and which was therefore looked upon as
the grand proclamation of ecclesiastical independence, as well as of
devotion to the house of Anjou. Gilbert, with characteristic caution,
excused himself on the plea that the troubles of his house urgently
required his presence at home;[1621] but he ended by going nevertheless,
[1622] and when his friend Bishop Robert of Hereford—one of the three
prelates whom Stephen had permitted to attend the council of Reims—

died during its session, the Pope and the primate rewarded Gilbert with
the succession to the vacant see.[1623] For his perjury in doing homage to
Stephen for its temporalities after swearing to hold them only of Henry
Fitz-Empress he may be supposed to have quieted his conscience with
the plea that there was no other means of securing them for Henry’s
benefit;—a plea which Henry, after some delay,[1624] found it wise to
accept. The heads of the Angevin party knew indeed that Gilbert
regarded all homage to Stephen as simply null and void; he had just
written it plainly to Brian Fitz-Count, when criticizing Brian’s apology
for the Empress, in a letter[1625] which, we may be very sure, must have
been handed about and studied among her friends as a much more
valuable document than the pamphlet which had called it forth.
[1621] Gilb. Foliot, Epp. vi., vii. (ib. pp. 13, 14).
[1622] He writes—evidently from the spot—a report of the council of

Reims to Robert archdeacon of Lincoln; Gilb. Foliot, Ep. lxxvi. (as above, p.
92). In July he was at Arras with Theobald: Ep. lxxiii. (ib. p. 89).
[1623] See above, pp. 370, 371.

[1624] Gilb. Foliot, Epp. xc., cxxx. (as above, pp. 116, 170).
[1625] Gilb. Foliot, Ep. lxxix. (Giles, vol. i. pp. 94–102); a most
interesting and valuable letter, being a detailed review of the whole question
of the succession, as well as of Brian’s “book.” The latter is unhappily lost.
The career of the new bishop of Hereford was but the natural
continuation of that of the abbot of Gloucester. His more exalted office
enabled him to be more than ever Theobald’s right hand in the direction
of the western dioceses. In their secular policy he and Theobald were
wholly at one; whether they really were equally so in their ideas of
Church reform is a question which was never put to the test; but the tone
of Gilbert’s mind, so far as it can be made out from his letters and from
his course in after-years, does not seem to have altogether harmonized
with that which prevailed in the primate’s household; and the one
member of that household with whom Gilbert was on really intimate
terms was precisely the one who, as afterwards appeared, had imbibed
least of its spirit—Roger of Pont-l’Evêque. Gilbert’s character is not an
easy one to read. Its inner depths are scarcely reflected in his letters,
which are almost all occupied with mere business or formal religious
exhortation; we never get from him such a pleasant little stream of
unpremeditated, discursive talk as John of Salisbury or Peter of Blois
delighted to pour out of the abundance of their hearts into the ears of
some old comrade, or such a flood of uncontrolled passion as revealed
the whole soul of Thomas Becket. Gilbert’s letters are carefully-
balanced, highly-finished compositions; almost every one of them reads
as if it had received as much polishing, in proportion to its length and
importance, as the review of Earl Brian’s book, which, the abbot owns,
occupied what should have been his hours of prayer during two days.
[1626] A strong vein of sarcasm, very clever as well as very severe, is the
only token of personal feeling which at times forces its way strangely,
almost startlingly, through the veil of extreme self-depreciation with
which Gilbert strove to cover it. The self-depreciation is even more
disagreeable than the sarcasm; yet it seems hardly fair to accuse Gilbert
of conscious hypocrisy. There was a bitter, sneering disposition ingrained
in his innermost being, and he knew it. His elaborate expressions of more
than monastic humility and meekness may have been the outcome of a
struggle to smother what he probably regarded as his besetting sin; and if
he not only failed to smother it, but drifted into a much more subtle and
dangerous temptation, still it is possible that he himself never perceived
the fact, and was less a deceiver than a victim of self-deception. During
his episcopate at Hereford, at any rate, no shadow of suspicion fell upon
him from any quarter; primate and Pope esteemed, trusted and consulted
him as one of the wisest as well as most zealous doctors of the English
Church; and when the young king came to his throne he did not fail to
shew a duly respectful appreciation of Gilbert’s character and services.
[1626] “Et biduo saltem ores pro me, quia biduo mihi est intermissa oratio
ut literas dictarem ad te.” Gilb. Foliot, Ep. lxxix. (Giles, vol. i. p. 102).
The king’s own attitude towards the religious revival was as yet not
very clearly defined. Henry was not without religious impulse; but it had
taken a special direction which indeed might naturally be expected in a
grandson of Fulk of Jerusalem:—a restless desire to go upon crusade. He
had no sooner mounted his throne than he began to urge upon the
English Pope, newly crowned like himself, the importance of giving
special attention to the necessities of the Holy Land.[1627] Four years
later he proposed to join Louis of France in a crusade against the Moors
in Spain. Louis wrote to the Pope announcing this project and begging
for his advice and support; Adrian in reply assured the two kings of his
sympathy and goodwill, but though praising their zeal he expressed some
doubt of its discretion, advised them to ascertain whether the Spaniards
desired their help before thrusting it upon them unasked, and reminded
Louis in plain terms of the disastrous issue of his former rash crusade.
[1628] The warning was needless, for it was hardly written before the
intending brothers-in-arms were preparing to fight against each other;
and before the war of Toulouse was over the English Pope was dead.
[1629]
[1627] Pet. Blois, Ep. clxviii. (Giles, vol. ii. pp. 116–118). The letter is
headed merely “Tali Papæ talis rex,” but there can be no doubt that they are
Henry and Adrian. The king congratulates himself and his country—“noster
Occidens”—on the elevation of a native thereof to the Papal chair, and makes
suggestions to the Pope about the work which lies before him.
[1628] Adrian IV. Ep. ccxli. (Migne, Patrol., vol. clxxxviii., cols. 1615–
1617; Duchesne, Hist. Franc. Scriptt., vol. iv. pp. 590, 591). Date, February
18 [1159].
[1629] Adrian died at Anagni on September 1, 1159. Alex. III. Ep. i.

(Migne, Patrol., vol. cc., col. 70).
His death was a heavy blow to the Church of his native land; and it
was followed by a schism which threatened disastrous consequences to
all western Christendom. Two Popes were elected—Roland of Siena,
cardinal of S. Mark and treasurer of the Holy See, and Octavian, cardinal
of S. Cecilia, a Roman of noble birth. This latter, who assumed the name
of Victor IV., was favoured by the Emperor, Frederic Barbarossa. After a
violent struggle he was expelled from Rome and fled to the protection of
his imperial patron, who thereupon summoned a general council to meet
at Pavia early in the next year and decide between the rival pontiffs.[1630]
Only the bishops of Frederic’s own dominions obeyed the summons, and
only one of the claimants; for Alexander III. (as Roland was called by his
adherents) disdained to submit to a trial whose issue he believed to have
been predetermined against him. He was accordingly condemned as a
rebel and schismatic, and Victor was acknowledged as the lawful
successor of S. Peter.[1631] This decision, however, bound only the
bishops of the Imperial dominions; and its general acceptance throughout
the rest of Christendom, doubtful from the first, became impossible when
Alexander and his partizans published their account of the mode by
which it had been arrived at. Victor—so their story went—had actually
placed his pontifical ring in the Emperor’s hands and received it back
from him as the symbol of investiture.[1632] The Church at large could
have no hesitation in deciding that a man who thus climbed into the
sheepfold by surrendering, voluntarily and deliberately, the whole
principle of spiritual independence whose triumph Gregory and Anselm
had devoted their lives to secure, was no true shepherd but a thief and
robber. Frederic however lost no time in endeavouring to obtain for him
the adhesion of France and England; and in the last-named quarter he
had great hopes of success. Henry had for several years past shewn a
disposition to knit up again the old political ties which connected
England with Germany; friendly embassies had been exchanged between
the two countries;[1633] now that he had begun to quarrel with France,
too, he was likely to be more inclined towards an imperial alliance.
Moreover it might naturally be expected that Frederic’s bold and
apparently successful attempt to revive the claims of his predecessor
Henry IV. on the subject of ecclesiastical investitures would meet with
sympathy from the grandson and representative of Henry I. Indeed, the
official report of the council of Pavia declares that Henry had actually, by
letters and envoys, given his assent to its proceedings.[1634] But nothing
of the kind was known in Henry’s own dominions;[1635] and it seems that
the Emperor was forestalled by a Norman bishop.
[1630] Radevic of Freisingen, l. ii. cc. 43, 50–56 (Muratori, Rer. Ital.
Scriptt., vol. vi. cols. 819, 823–834), largely made up of official letters. This
is the Victorian or Imperialist version; for the Alexandrine see Will. Newb., l.
ii. c. 9 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 118, 119), and Arn. Lisieux, Epp. 21, 22, 23
(Giles, pp. 108–122. Arnulf calls the antipope “Otto.”) It seems quite
hopeless to reconcile them or decide between them.
[1631] Rad. Freising., l. ii. cc. 64–72 (as above, cols. 838–853). Will.
Newb., l. ii. c. 9 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 119, 120).
[1632] Arn. Lisieux, Ep. 23 (Giles, p. 118).
[1633] Pipe Roll 4 Hen. II. (Hunter), p. 112. Cf. Rad. Freising., l. i. c. 7
(Muratori, Rer. Ital. Scriptt., vol. vi. cols. 744, 745). Another embassy from
Henry reached Frederic in Lombardy, in the winter of 1158–1159,
immediately after one from Louis. The object of each king was to secure
Frederic’s alliance against the other, in prospect of the coming war of
Toulouse; Rad. Freising., l. ii. c. 22 (as above, col. 804).
[1634] Report in Rad. Freising., l. ii. c. 70 (as above, col. 850). But the
bishop of Bamberg, also an eye-witness, says: “Nuntius regis Francorum
promisit pro eo neutrum se recepturum usque dum nuntios Imperatoris
recipiat. Nuntius regis Anglorum idem velle et idem nolle promisit, tam in
his quam in aliis” (ib. c. 71, col. 851); which leaves it doubtful whether the
English envoy really echoed the decision of the council, or the answer of his
French brother.
[1635] Not even to Stephen of Rouen, the author of the Draco

Normannicus, who has a long account of the schism, curious as proceeding
from a Norman monk whose sympathies are wholly and openly on the
opposite side to that which was formally adopted by his own sovereign,
nation and Church. Draco Norm., l. iii. cc. 6–11, vv. 361–868 (Howlett, Will.
Newb., vol. ii. pp. 724–739).
Arnulf of Lisieux came of a family which had for more than half a
century been constantly mixed up in the diplomatic concerns of
Normandy and Anjou. Arnulf himself had begun his career about 1130
by writing a treatise in defence of an orthodox Pope against an usurper;
[1636] he had been chosen to succeed his uncle Bishop John of
Lisieux[1637] shortly before Geoffrey Plantagenet’s final conquest of

Normandy, and had bought at a heavy price his peace with the new ruler;
[1638] and for the next forty years there was hardly a diplomatic
transaction of any kind, ecclesiastical or secular, in England or in Gaul,

in which he was not at some moment and in some way or other
concerned. He had little official influence; he had indeed a certain
amount of territorial importance in Normandy, for Lisieux was the
capital of a little county of which the temporal as well as the spiritual
government was vested in the bishop; but a Norman bishop, merely as
such, had none of the political weight of an English prelate; and Arnulf
never held any secular office. He was not exactly a busybody; he was a
consummate diplomatist, of wide experience and far-reaching
intelligence, with whose services no party could afford to dispense; and
his extraordinary caution and sagacity enabled him to act as counsellor
and guide of all parties at once without sacrificing his own reputation as
a sound Churchman and a loyal subject. In his youth he had come in
contact with most of the rising scholars and statesmen of the day in the
schools of Paris; and as he was an indefatigable and accomplished letter-
writer, he kept up through life a busy correspondence with men of all
ranks and all schools of thought on both sides of the sea.[1639] During the
quarrel between Louis VII. and Geoffrey Plantagenet concerning the
affair of Montreuil-Bellay, Arnulf was intrusted by Suger with a chief
part in the negotiations for the restoration of peace;[1640] the final
settlement in 1151, whereby the investiture of Normandy was secured to
Henry, was chiefly owing to his diplomacy;[1641] he accompanied Henry
to England and was present at his crowning;[1642] and on all questions of
continental policy he continued to be Henry’s chief adviser till he was
superseded by Thomas Becket.
[1636] See his Tractatus de Schismate in his “Works” (ed. Giles), pp. 43–
79.
[1637] In 1141. Gall. Christ., vol. xi. cols. 774, 775.
[1638] Ib. col. 775.
[1639] One of his fellow-students was Ralf de Diceto, the future historian
and dean of S. Paul’s, to whom he writes affectionately in after-years,
recalling vividly the memories of joy and sorrow which they had shared in
their college days. Arn. Lis. Ep. 16 (Giles, pp. 100, 101). Another of his early
friends was Robert Bloet, bishop of Lincoln, whose good offices he earnestly
entreated in behalf of the young Duke Henry when the latter made his
expedition to England in 1149. Ep. 4 (pp. 85, 86).
[1640] Suger, Epp. clxvii., clxviii. (Migne, Patrol., vol. clxxxvi., cols.
1428, 1429).
[1641] Arn. Lis. Ep. 5 (Giles, pp. 86, 87). One passage looks as if the
demand for Henry’s investiture had come from England; it is described as
“postulatio Anglorum.”
[1642] Rob. Torigni, a. 1154.

To Arnulf there was nothing new or startling in a schism at Rome; his
experiences of thirty years before enabled him to penetrate the present
case at once, and as then with his pen, so now with his tongue, he proved
the readiest and most powerful advocate of the orthodox pontiff.
Fortunately, Henry was in Normandy; before any one else had time to
gain his ear and bias his mind, before he himself had time to think of
forming an independent judgement on the subject, Arnulf hurried to his
side,[1643] and set forth the claims of Alexander with such convincing
eloquence that the king at once promised to acknowledge him as Pope.
He refrained however from issuing an immediate order for Alexander’s
acceptance throughout his dominions, partly in deference to the Emperor,
[1644] and partly to make sure of the intentions of the king of France.
Louis, like Henry, had sent a representative to the council of Pavia, but
he had taken care not to commit himself to any decision upon its
proceedings.[1645] He was not naturally inclined to favour the Emperor’s
views. The question of the investitures had never been as important in
France as in Germany or in England, and had been settled by a kind of
tacit concordat which the Most Christian King had no mind to forfeit his
title by disturbing; France was always the staunchest upholder of the
independence of the Apostolic see;[1646] and neither king nor clergy
desired to change their attitude. They met in council at Beauvais some
time in the summer of 1160; a similar gathering of the Norman bishops,
in Henry’s presence, took place in July at Neufmarché; both assemblies
resulted in the acknowledgement of Alexander.[1647] The formal assent of
the Churches of England and Aquitaine had still to be obtained before
either king would fully proclaim his decision.[1648] Archbishop
Theobald’s anxious request for information and instructions concerning
the schism[1649] was answered by an exhaustive and eloquent statement
of the case from the pen of the indefatigable bishop of Lisieux;[1650] and
in accordance with his directions the English bishops in council
assembled unanimously declared their acceptance of Alexander III. as
the lawful successor of S. Peter.[1651]
[1643] Arn. Lis. Epp. 18 and 21 (Giles, pp. 103, 104, 111).
[1644] Arn. Lis. Ep. 21 (Giles, p. 111).
[1645] See above, p. 499, note 3{1634}.

[1646] Arn. Lis. Ep. 23 (Giles, p. 120).
[1647] Rob. Torigni, a. 1160.
[1648] Arn. Lis. Epp. 23, 24 (Giles, pp. 120, 129).
[1649] Joh. Salisb. Ep. xliv. (Giles, vol. i. pp. 45, 46).
[1650] Arn. Lis. Ep. 23 (Giles, pp. 116–122). Cf. Gilb. Foliot, Ep. cxlviii.
(Giles, vol. i. p. 197).
[1651] Gilb. Foliot, Ep. cxlviii. (as above). Joh. Salisb. Ep. lxiv (Giles,
vol. i. p. 79).
Alexander’s legates were already in Normandy;[1652] unluckily,

however, the use which Henry made of their presence led as we have
seen to a fresh rupture between him and Louis; and by this the Emperor
and the anti-pope immediately sought to profit. Tempting as their
overtures were to Henry, it does not appear that he ever seriously
entertained them; but the leaders of the English Church, having now
learned the circumstances of the case and grasped the full importance of
the triumph insured to the reforming party by his acceptance of
Alexander, were naturally alarmed lest he should be induced to change
his mind. Their anxiety was increased by the enfeebled state of their own
ranks. The struggles of Bishop Richard of London to clear off the debts
incurred in raising a fine required by Stephen at his election seemed to
have only aggravated the confusion of his affairs, which his friends the
bishops of Hereford and Lincoln were engaged in a desperate effort to
disentangle,[1653] while Richard himself, to complete his misfortunes,
was stricken helpless by paralysis.[1654] Henry of Winchester had
returned to his diocese, after nearly four years’ absence, in 1159;[1655]
but by the spring of 1161 he again left the Church of England to her fate
and went back to his beloved Cluny.[1656] The bishoprics of Chester (or
Lichfield), Exeter and Worcester were vacant;[1657] and, worst of all,
Archbishop Theobald was dying.
[1652] Gilb. Foliot, Ep. cxlviii (as above).
[1653] Gilb. Foliot, Ep. cxx. (Giles, vol. i. p. 158).
[1654] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 304.
[1655] See above, p. 492, note 1{1611}.
[1656] R. Diceto, as above.

[1657] Walter of Lichfield died December 7, 1160 (Stubbs, Registr. Sac.
Ang., p. 30); Alfred of Worcester, July 31, 1160; and Robert of Exeter some
time in the same year (ib. p. 31).
The primate’s letters during the last few months of his life shew him
calmly awaiting his call to rest, yet anxiously longing to be assured of
the future of those whom he was leaving behind, and to set in order a few
things that were wanting before he could depart altogether in peace. Very
touching are the expressions of his longing to “see the face of the Lord’s
anointed once again”—to welcome the king back to his country and his
home, safely removed from political temptations to break away from the
unity of the Church.[1658] And there was another for whose return
Theobald yearned more deeply still: his own long absent archdeacon
—“the first of my counsellors, nay, my only one,” as he calls him,
pleading earnestly with the king to let him come home.[1659] For a
moment, indeed, Theobald was on the point of being left almost alone.
Some rather obscure mischief-making in high places had caused John of
Salisbury to be visited with the king’s severe displeasure; treated as a
suspected criminal in England, forbidden to go and clear himself in
Normandy, John found his position so unbearable that he contemplated
taking refuge in France under the protection of his old friend Abbot Peter
of Celle.[1660] He seems, however, to have ended by remaining in
England under Theobald’s protection; before the winter of 1160, at any
rate, he was again at Canterbury, watching over and tending the
primate’s gradual decline;—almost overwhelmed with “the care of all
the churches,” which Theobald had transferred to him;[1661]—
characteristically finding relief from his anxieties in correspondence with
old friends, and in the composition of another little philosophical treatise,
called Metalogicus, whose chief interest lies in the sketch which it
contains of its author’s early life.[1662] John’s disinterested affection and
devoted services were fully appreciated by Theobald;[1663] but they could
not make up for the absence of Thomas. Not only did the old man long to
see his early favourite once more; not only were there grave matters of
diocesan administration dependent on the archdeacon’s office and
urgently requiring his personal co-operation:[1664]—it was on far
weightier things than these that the archbishop desired to hold counsel
with Thomas. In the hands of Thomas, as chief adviser and minister of
the king, rested in no small degree the future of the English Church;
Theobald’s darling wish was that it should rest in his hands as primate of
all England.[1665]
[1658] Joh. Salisb. Epp. lxiii, lxiv,* lxiv** (Giles, vol. i. pp. 77, 78, 80–
82), all from Theobald to Henry.
[1659] “Qui [sc. Thomas] nobis unicus est et consilii nostri primus.” Joh.
Salisb. Ep. lxx. (ib. p. 93).
[1660] Joh. Salisb. Epp. lxi., xcvi., cviii., cxii., cxiii., cxv., cxxi. (ib. pp.
74, 75, 141–144, 158, 160, 161, 164, 165, 169, 170). See Demimuid, Jean de
Salisbury, pp. 183–188.
[1661] Joh. Salisb. Metalog., prolog. (Giles, vol. v. pp. 8, 9), and l. iv. c.
42 (ib. p. 206).
[1662] Ib. l. ii. c. 10 (pp. 78–81).
[1663] Joh. Salisb. Ep. lxiv.* (Giles, vol. i. p. 80), from Theobald to
Henry.
[1664] Joh. Salisb. Epp. xlix., lxxi. (ib. pp. 51, 52, 94, 95), both from
Theobald to Thomas. The initial in the address of lxxi. is clearly wrong. See
Robertson, Becket, vol. v. p. 11, note a.
[1665] This is distinctly stated by John of Salisbury:—

“Ille Theobaldus qui Christi præsidet aulæ,
Quam fidei matrem Cantia nostra colit,
Hunc successurum sibi sperat et orat, ut idem
Præsulis officium muniat atque locum.”
Entheticus, vv. 1293–1296 (Giles, vol. v. p. 280.)
Later writers dilate upon the startling contrast between Becket’s

character and policy as chancellor and as archbishop. That contrast
vanishes when we look at the chancellor through the eyes of the two men
who knew him best; and we find that the real contrast lies between their
view of him and that of the outside world which only saw the surface of
his life and could not fathom its inner depths. Those who beheld him
foremost in every military exercise and every courtly pastime, far
outdoing the king himself in lavish splendour and fastidious refinement,
devoting every faculty of mind and body to the service and the pleasure
of his royal friend:—those who saw all this, and could only judge by
what they saw, might well have thought that for such a man to become
the champion of the Church was a dream to be realized only by miracle
or by imposture. But Archbishop Theobald and John of Salisbury had
known his inmost soul, better perhaps than he knew it himself, before
ever he went to court; and they knew that however startling his conduct
there might look, he was merely fulfilling in his own way the mission on
which he had been sent thither:—making himself all things to all men, if
thereby he might by any means influence the court and the king for good.
[1666] Even his suggestion of the scutage for the war of Toulouse did not
seriously shake their faith in him; they blamed him, but they believed
that he had erred in weakness, not in wilfulness.[1667] In the middle of the
war John dedicated the Polycraticus to him as the one man about the
court to whom its follies and its faults could be criticized without fear,
because he had no part in them.[1668] Thomas himself does not seem to
have contemplated the possibility of removal from his present sphere. It
was not in his nature at any time to look far ahead; and Henry seemed to
find his attendance more indispensable than ever, declaring in answer to
Theobald’s intreaties and remonstrances that he could not possibly spare
him till peace was thoroughly restored.[1669]
[1666] Joh. Salisb. Enthet., vv. 1435–1440 (Giles, vol. v. p. 285).
[1667] Joh. Salisb. Ep. cxlv. (Giles, vol. i. pp. 223, 224).
[1668] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., prolog. (Giles, vol. iii. p. 13).
[1669] Joh. Salisb. Ep. lxxviii. (Giles, vol. i. p. 106).
Thomas was in a strait. His first duty was to his dying spiritual father;
but he could not go against the king’s will without running such a risk as
Theobald would have been the first to disapprove. Thomas himself
therefore at last suggested that the archbishop should try to move the
king by summoning his truant archdeacon to return home at once on pain
of deprivation.[1670] Theobald, unable to reconcile the contradictory
letters of king and chancellor with the general reports of their wonderful
unanimity, steered a middle course between severity and gentleness,
from fear of bringing down the royal displeasure upon his favourite,
whom he yet half suspected of being in collusion with the king. His
secretary, John, had no such doubts; but he too was urgent that by some
means or other Thomas should come over before the primate’s death.
[1671] If he did go, it can only have been for a flying visit; and there is no
sign that he went at all. One thing he did obtain for Theobald’s
satisfaction: the appointment of Bartholomew archdeacon of Exeter to
the bishopric of that diocese.[1672] In April Richard Peche, on whom the
see of Chester had been conferred, was consecrated at Canterbury by
Walter of Rochester, the archbishop being carried into the chapel to
sanction by his presence the rite in which he was too feeble to assist.
[1673] By the hand of the faithful secretary John he transmitted to King
Henry his last solemn benediction and farewell, and commended to the
royal care the future of his church and the choice of his successor.[1674] A
few days later, on April 18, 1161, the good primate passed away.[1675]
[1670] Joh. Salisb. Ep. lxxviii. (Giles, vol. i. (p. 105).
[1671] Joh. Salisb. Ep. lxxviii. (Giles, vol. i. pp. 105–107).
[1672] Joh. Salisb. Epp. lxx., lxxi., lxxviii. (as above, pp. 94, 95, 106). On
Bartholomew see also Ep. xc. (ib. pp. 132–136), where John addresses him
as a personal friend.
[1674] Joh. Salisb. Ep. liv. (Giles, vol. i. pp. 56–58). See the archbishop’s
will in Ep. lvii. (ib. pp. 60–62).
[1675] Gerv. Cant. as above.

ERRATA
Page 50, line 8 from foot, insert “and” before “bore.”

” 158, ” 5, for “in” read “by.”
” 268, ” 18, dele “the following.”
” 274, ” 14 from foot, for “two” read “three.”
” 282, ” 14, insert “and” before “made.”
” 417, lines 3 and 4 from foot, for “husband ... heiress” read “head.”
” 438, note 5, line 8, for “David” read “Henry of Scotland.”
END OF VOL. I.
Printed by R. R. C , Edinburgh
ENGLAND
UNDER
THE ANGEVIN KINGS

ENGLAND
UNDER
THE ANGEVIN KINGS

BY
KATE NORGATE
IN TWO VOLUMES—VOL. II.
WITH MAPS AND PLANS
London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND NEW YORK
1887
All rights reserved

CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
A T , 1162–1164 1
Note A.—The Council of Woodstock 43
Note B.—The Council of Clarendon 44
CHAPTER II
H R , 1164–1172 46
CHAPTER III
T C I , 795–1172 82
CHAPTER IV
H B , 1166–1175 120
CHAPTER V
T A E , 1175–1183 169
CHAPTER VI
T L Y H II., 1183–1189 229
CHAPTER VII
R E , 1189–1194 273
CHAPTER VIII
T L Y R , 1194–1199 332
CHAPTER IX
T F A , 1199–1206 388
Note.—The Death of Arthur 429
CHAPTER X
T N E , 1170–1206 431
LIST OF MAPS
III I , A.D. 1172 To face

. page 82
IV. M I R
1173–1174 ” 149
V. F B c. 1180 ” 185
VI E c. 1180
. ” 189
VI F A D ,
I. 1194 ” 359
PLANS
VI L A C -G To face
I. page 375
VI C -G
II. ” 378
CHAPTER I.
ARCHBISHOP THOMAS.
1162–1164.
S more than a year after the primate’s death, Thomas the

chancellor returned to England. He came, as we have seen, at the king’s
bidding, ostensibly for the purpose of securing the recognition of little
Henry as heir to the crown. But this was not the sole nor even the chief
object of his mission. On the eve of his departure—so the story was told
by his friends in later days—Thomas had gone to take leave of the king
at Falaise. Henry drew him aside: “You do not yet know to what you are
going. I will have you to be archbishop of Canterbury.” The chancellor
took, or tried to take, the words for a jest. “A saintly figure indeed,” he
exclaimed with a smiling glance at his own gay attire, “you are choosing
to sit in that holy seat and to head that venerable convent! No, no,” he
added with sudden earnestness, “I warn you that if such a thing should
be, our friendship would soon turn to bitter hate. I know your plans
concerning the Church; you will assert claims which I as archbishop
must needs oppose; and the breach once made, jealous hands would take
care that it should never be healed again.” The words were prophetic;
they sum up the whole history of the pontificate of Thomas Becket.
Henry, however, in his turn passed them over as a mere jest, and at once
proclaimed his intention to the chancellor’s fellow-envoys, one of whom
was the justiciar, Richard de Lucy. “Richard,” said the king, “if I lay
dead in my shroud, would you earnestly strive to secure my first-born on
my throne?” “Indeed I would, my lord, with all my might.” “Then I
charge you to strive no less earnestly to place my chancellor on the
metropolitan chair of Canterbury.”[1]
[1] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, Becket, vol. iii.), pp. 180, 182. Cf. Thomas
Saga (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 63–67.
Thomas was appalled. He could not be altogether taken by surprise; he
knew what had been Theobald’s wishes and hopes; he knew that from
the moment of Theobald’s death all eyes had turned instinctively upon
himself with the belief that the future of the Church rested wholly in his
all-powerful hands; he could not but suspect the king’s own intentions,[2]
although the very suspicion would keep him silent, and all the more so
because those intentions ran counter to his own desires. For twelve
months he had known that the primacy was within his reach; he had
counted the cost, and he had no mind to pay it. He was incapable of
undertaking any office without throwing his whole energies into the
fulfilment of its duties; his conception of the duties of the primate of all
Britain would involve the sacrifice not only of those secular pursuits
which he so keenly enjoyed, but also of that personal friendship and
political co-operation with the king which seemed almost an
indispensable part of the life of both; and neither sacrifice was he
disposed to make. He had said as much to an English friend who had
been the first to hint at his coming promotion,[3] and he repeated it now
with passionate earnestness to Henry himself, but all in vain. The more
he resisted, the more the king insisted—the very frankness of his
warnings only strengthening Henry’s confidence in him; and when the
legate Cardinal Henry of Pisa urged his acceptance as a sacred duty,
Thomas at last gave way.[4]
[2] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, Becket, vol. iii.), p. 180. Anon. I. (ib. vol. iv.),
p. 14. Thomas Saga (Magnusson), vol. i., p. 63.
[3] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, Becket, vol. iii.), pp. 25, 26.
[4] Will. Cant. (ib. vol. i.), pp. 7, 8. Anon. I. (ib. vol. iv.), p. 18. Anon. II.
(ib.), p. 86.
The council in London was no sooner ended than Richard de Lucy and
three of the bishops[5] hurried to Canterbury, by the king’s orders, to
obtain from the cathedral chapter the election of a primate in accordance
with his will. The monks of Christ Church were never very easy to
manage; in the days of the elder King Henry they had firmly and
successfully resisted the intrusion of a secular clerk into the monastic
chair of S. Augustine; and a strong party among them now protested that
to choose for pastor of the flock of Canterbury a man who was scarcely a
clerk at all, who was wholly given to hawks and hounds and the worldly
ways of the court, would be no better than setting a wolf to guard a
sheepfold. But their scruples were silenced by the arguments of Richard
de Lucy and by their dread of the royal wrath, and in the end Thomas
was elected without a dissentient voice.[6] The election was repeated in
the presence of a great council[7] held at Westminster on May 23,[8] and
ratified by the bishops and clergy there assembled.[9] Only one voice was
raised in protest; it was that of Gilbert Foliot,[10] who, alluding doubtless
to the great scutage, declared that Thomas was utterly unfit for the
primacy, because he had persecuted the Church of God.[11] The protest
was answered by Henry of Winchester in words suggested by Gilbert’s
own phrase: “My son,” said the ex-legate, addressing Thomas, “if thou
hast been hitherto as Saul the persecutor, be thou henceforth as Paul the
Apostle.”[12]
[5] E. Grim (Robertson, Becket vol. ii.), pp. 366. The bishops were Exeter,
Chichester and Rochester; Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 16, 17, Anon. I.
(Robertson, Becket, vol. iv.), pp. 14–16, and Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p.
169; this last alone names Rochester, and adds another envoy—Abbot Walter
of Battle, Chichester’s old adversary and the justiciar’s brother.
[6] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 17. E. Grim (Robertson, Becket, vol. ii.), pp. 366,
367. Herb. Bosh. (ib. vol. iii.), pp. 183–185. Anon. I. (ib. vol. iv.), p. 16.
Thomas Saga (Magnusson, vol. i. p. 73) has quite a different version of the
result.
[7] Anon. I. (Robertson, Becket, vol. iv.), p. 17. Will. Cant. (ib. vol. i.), p.
9. Garnier, as above. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 169. R. Diceto (Stubbs),
vol. i. p. 306.
[8] The Wednesday before Pentecost. R. Diceto (as above), p. 307.
[9] Garnier, Will. Cant., Anon. I., as above. R. Diceto (as above), p. 306.
Gerv. Cant. (as above), p. 170. All these writers either say or imply that the
council represented, or was meant to represent, the entire clerus et populus of
all England; except R. Diceto, who says: “clero totius provinciæ
Cantuariorum generaliter Lundoniæ convocato” (p. 306). Cf. Thomas Saga
(Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 73–77; Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, Becket, vol.
iii.), p. 36; and Herb. Bosh. (ib.), p. 184.
[10] Garnier, Will. Cant., Will. Fitz-Steph. and Anon. I. as above. E. Grim
(Robertson, Becket, vol. ii.), p. 367. Will. Cant., E. Grim and the Anon. call
him “bishop of London” by anticipation.
[11] “Destruite ad seinte Iglise.” Garnier, as above.
[12] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 18.

The election was confirmed by the great officers of state and the boy-
king in his father’s name;[13] the consecration was fixed for the octave of
Pentecost, and forthwith the bishops began to vie with each other for the
honour of performing the ceremony. Roger of York, who till now had
stood completely aloof, claimed it as a privilege due to the dignity of his
see; but the primate-elect and the southern bishops declined to accept his
services without a profession of canonical obedience to Canterbury,
which he indignantly refused.[14] The bishop of London, on whom as
dean of the province the duty according to ancient precedent should have
devolved, was just dead;[15] Walter of Rochester momentarily put in a
claim to supply his place,[16] but withdrew it in deference to Henry of
Winchester, who had lately returned from Cluny, and whose royal blood,
venerable character, and unique dignity as father of the whole English
episcopate, marked him out beyond all question as the most fitting
person to undertake the office.[17] By way of compensation, it was
Walter who, on the Saturday in Whitsun-week, raised the newly-elected
primate to the dignity of priesthood.[18]
[13] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 18 Anon. I. (Robertson, Becket, vol. iv.), p. 17.

Will. Cant. (ib. vol. i.), p. 9. E. Grim (ib. vol. ii.), p. 367. Herb. Bosh. (ib.
vol. iii.), p. 185.
[15] He died on May 4. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 306.
[16] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 188.
[17] Gerv. Cant., R. Diceto and Herb. Bosh. as above. MS. Lansdown. II.
(Robertson, Becket, vol. iv.), p. 155. Cf. Anon. I. (ib.), p. 19. There was
another claimant, a Welsh bishop, who asserted priority of consecration over
all his brother-prelates; so at least says Gerv. Cant., but one does not see who
he can have been.
[18] R. Diceto, as above.
Early next morning the consecration took place. Canterbury cathedral

has been rebuilt from end to end since that day; it is only imagination
which can picture the church of Lanfranc and Anselm and Theobald as it
stood on that June morning, the scarce-risen sun gleaming faintly
through its eastern windows upon the rich vestures of the fourteen
bishops[19] and their attendant clergy and the dark robes of the monks
who thronged the choir, while the nave was crowded with spectators,

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2) The protective purpose of planning is to ________.

3) The affirmative purpose of planning is to ________.

4) Which of the following is the fundamental purpose of planning?

5) Which of the following is an advantage of planning?

6) A disadvantage of planning is that it ________.

8) Which of the following is an example of a statement of organizational purpose?

[1588] Polycraticus de Nugis Curialium et Vestigiis Philosophorum.

[1589] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. i. prolog. (Giles, vol. iii. p. 13).

[1591] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. i. c. 4 (Giles, vol. iii. pp. 19–32).

[1594] Ib. cc. 6, 16 (pp. 16, 17, 39, 40).

[1595] Ib. c. 6 (p. 18).

[1596] Ib. l. viii. c. 7 (p. 238).

[1597] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. v. c. 15 (vol. iii. pp. 327, 328).

[1598] Ib. l. vii. c. 18 (vol. iv. pp. 149, 152).

[1599] Ib. l. v. c. 15 (vol. iii. p. 329).

[1602] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. iv. c. 7 (vol. iii. p. 241).

[1603] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. v. c. 6 (Giles, vol. iii. p. 278).

[1604] Ib. l. iv. c. 12 (pp. 259, 260).

[1605] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., l. vi. c. 8 (vol. iv. p. 21).

[1609] Ib. l. vii. c. 20 (pp. 161–169).

[1610] Ibid. c. 25 (p. 192).

[1612] See his letters passim.

[1615] Gilb. Foliot, Ep. cclxix. (Giles, vol. i. p. 366).

In 1139 the abbot of S. Peter’s at Gloucester died; Miles the constable,

[1617] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 162.

[1620] See his correspondence while abbot of Gloucester; Gilb. Foliot

prelates whom Stephen had permitted to attend the council of Reims—

[1622] He writes—evidently from the spot—a report of the council of

[1623] See above, pp. 370, 371.

[1629] Adrian died at Anagni on September 1, 1159. Alex. III. Ep. i.

[1632] Arn. Lisieux, Ep. 23 (Giles, p. 118).

[1635] Not even to Stephen of Rouen, the author of the Draco

Lisieux[1637] shortly before Geoffrey Plantagenet’s final conquest of

transaction of any kind, ecclesiastical or secular, in England or in Gaul,

[1637] In 1141. Gall. Christ., vol. xi. cols. 774, 775.

[1638] Ib. col. 775.

[1642] Rob. Torigni, a. 1154.

[1644] Arn. Lis. Ep. 21 (Giles, p. 111).

[1645] See above, p. 499, note 3{1634}.

[1647] Rob. Torigni, a. 1160.

[1648] Arn. Lis. Epp. 23, 24 (Giles, pp. 120, 129).

Alexander’s legates were already in Normandy;[1652] unluckily,

[1652] Gilb. Foliot, Ep. cxlviii (as above).

[1653] Gilb. Foliot, Ep. cxx. (Giles, vol. i. p. 158).

[1654] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 304.

[1655] See above, p. 492, note 1{1611}.

[1656] R. Diceto, as above.

[1662] Ib. l. ii. c. 10 (pp. 78–81).

[1665] This is distinctly stated by John of Salisbury:—

Later writers dilate upon the startling contrast between Becket’s

[1666] Joh. Salisb. Enthet., vv. 1435–1440 (Giles, vol. v. p. 285).

[1668] Joh. Salisb. Polycrat., prolog. (Giles, vol. iii. p. 13).

[1669] Joh. Salisb. Ep. lxxviii. (Giles, vol. i. p. 106).

[1670] Joh. Salisb. Ep. lxxviii. (Giles, vol. i. (p. 105).

[1671] Joh. Salisb. Ep. lxxviii. (Giles, vol. i. pp. 105–107).

[1673] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 168.

[1675] Gerv. Cant. as above.

Page 50, line 8 from foot, insert “and” before “bore.”

THE ANGEVIN KINGS