Nine hundred years ago, Prince William, Henry I’s heir, drowned in the White Ship disaster – leading to civil war, says Charles Spencer
The shipwreck that rocked the monarchy
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xactly 900 years ago this autumn, the English crown was rocked by the greatest maritime tragedy ever to afflict this kingdom. Henry I had quickly brought the over-mighty aristocrats of England to heel, and had established financial discipline by founding the exchequer, still in existence today. He had also stolen Normandy from his older brother, leaving him to languish for the rest of his very long life in jail. Finally, after four years of fighting, Henry had defeated the greatest of his many enemies, King Louis ‘the Fat’ of France. He forced Louis to recognise Henry’s sole legitimate son, William Ætheling, as rightful heir to the family’s Norman dukedom. In late November 1120, Henry arrived in triumph at Barfleur, the port in Normandy commonly used as the springboard for voyages to Southampton. He was surrounded by the great men and women of his court. Several of his 22 illegitimate children led the throng of aristocrats, accompanied by famous knights and the mighty bureaucrats that further underpinned his power: men whom he had promoted from obscurity to oversee the efficient governance of his realms on either side of the Channel. Thomas FitzStephen, the skipper of a splendid vessel, the Blanche-Nef, stepped forward to greet the king. He proudly recalled how his father had served Henry’s own father, William the Conqueror, as captain of the Mora, the flagship of the Norman invasion fleet in 18 The Oldie October 2020
1066. FitzStephen now sought the honour of serving as Henry’s captain in his ship that possessed power to match its beauty: it had 50 oarsmen to supplement the wind in her sails. But Henry, ever practical and organised, explained that he had no wish to change his arrangements – so he declined the invitation. To lighten FitzStephen’s disappointment, Henry conceded that it would be fun for William Ætheling, along with others of his children born out of wedlock, to enjoy all that the BlancheNef had to offer. ‘Blanche-Nef’ translates into English as the White Ship. The King set off first for England, leaving the White Ship to follow later that night. The prince and his party delayed their departure, preferring to give Henry a head start while they set about a huge quantity of wine. They shared it with the crew, who were drunk before the White Ship set off. A sea voyage was considered a dangerous endeavour by the medieval mind. The waves were viewed as impenetrable hiding places for terrors, real and imagined. Writers speculated about a menagerie of deadly
Quillebeuf Rock in Barfleur harbour
sea creatures lurking beneath. These were thought to include sea elephants, sea dragons, sea wolves, even sea goats. And, beyond these fanciful beings, there were rocks ready to crash through the finest of hulls. When monks came to bless the White Ship before it sailed, they were chased away by revellers on the vessel. To God-fearing contemporaries, this would be viewed as the moment all was lost. Soon after casting off, the ship struck the Quillebeuf Rock, still visible at low tide off Barfleur today. Passengers were tipped into the icy water, to die. The prince was spirited away by his bodyguards in the one rowing boat available but screams for help from a half-sister persuaded him back. As his men rowed towards her, many of those drowning desperately clung to the skiff’s side, taking it and the prince down (pictured, right). One man survived, whose recollections added colour and immediacy to the ghastliness of it all. When Henry I was informed of the catastrophic loss of his children, and of many of his greatest subjects, he collapsed, screaming. They say he never smiled again during his remaining 15 years. Whether or not this is true, he certainly never produced another heir. The result of the shipwreck was civil war. There was a time when the tragedy of the White Ship was so well known that historians apologised for excavating the hackneyed tale once more. Winston Churchill devoted a moving page to it in A History of the EnglishSpeaking Peoples. Though he curiously