The history of the Norman conquest of England, its causes and its results, Volume 2 (of 6)
Date: 2025-09-29T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Normans -- England; Great Britain -- History -- Anglo-Saxon period; 449-1066; Hastings; Battle of; England; 1066; Great Britain -- History -- Norman period; 1066-1154

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Title: The history of the Norman conquest of England, its causes and its results, Volume 2 (of 6)

Author: Edward A. Freeman

Release date: September 29, 2025 [eBook #76954]

Language: English

Original publication: Oxford: Clarendon, 1867

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HISTORY OF THE NORMAN CONQUEST OF ENGLAND, ITS CAUSES AND ITS RESULTS, VOLUME 2 (OF 6) ***

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HISTORY OF THE NORMAN CONQUEST.

London

HENRY FROWDE

Oxford University Press Warehouse

Amen Corner, E.C.

THE HISTORY
OF THE
NORMAN CONQUEST OF ENGLAND,
ITS CAUSES AND ITS RESULTS.

BY

EDWARD A. FREEMAN, M.A.

LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE.

VOLUME II.

THE REIGN OF EADWARD THE CONFESSOR.

Φιλεῖ γὰρ ὁ Θεὸς τοῖς οὔτε ἀγχίνοις οὔτε τι οἰκόθεν μηχανᾶσθαι οἵοις τε οὖσιν, ἢν μὴ πονηροὶ εἶεν, ἀπορουμένοις τὰ ἔσχατα ἐπικουρεῖν τε καὶ ξυλλαμβάνεσθαι, ὁποῖον δή τι καὶ τῷ βασιλεῖ τούτῳ τετύχηκεν.—Procopius, Bell. Vand. i. 2.

Oxford:

AT THE CLARENDON PRESS.

M.DCCC.LXVIII.

[All Rights reserved.]

PREFACE.

My first volume was preliminary. I am now able to announce the exact extent and scheme of my book. My plan now extends to five volumes. The present volume takes in the first stage of the actual struggle between Normans and Englishmen, that is, the Reign of Eadward the Confessor. I begin with Eadward’s election, and I continue the narrative to his death. I take in also the early years of William in Normandy. In this period the struggle is not as yet a struggle of open warfare: it is a political struggle within the Kingdom of England. Harold and William gradually come to be the leaders and representatives of their several nations; but they are not, during the time embraced in the present volume, brought into any actually hostile relation to one another.

The third volume will, as far as England is concerned, be devoted to the single year 1066. But, along with the history of that great year, I shall have to trace the later years of William’s Norman reign. The year itself is the time of actual warfare between England and Normandy under their respective sovereigns. It embraces the reign of Harold and the interregnum which followed his death. I shall, in this volume, describe the election of Harold, the campaigns of Stamfordbridge and Hastings, and the formal completion of the Conquest by the acceptance and coronation of William as King of the English. Of this volume a considerable part is already written.

The fourth volume I shall devote to the reign of William in England. The Conquest, formally completed by his coronation, has now to be practically carried out throughout the land. The authority of William, already formally acknowledged, is gradually established over England; local resistance is overcome; the highest offices and the greatest landed estates throughout England are gradually transferred from natives to foreigners. Before William’s death the work was thoroughly done, and the great Domesday Survey may be looked on as its record. The Conquest, in its immediate results, is now fully accomplished.

The second, third, and fourth volumes will therefore embrace the main narrative, the third being the centre of all. The fifth volume will answer to the first. It will be supplementary, as the first was preliminary. It will be devoted to the results of the Conquest, as the first was devoted to its causes. It will not be necessary to prolong the detailed history beyond the death of William the Conqueror, but it will be necessary to give a sketch of the history down to Edward the First, in order to point out the stages by which the Norman settlers were gradually fused into the mass of the English nation. I shall also have to examine the permanent results of the Conquest on government, language, and the general condition of England.

I have again to give my best thanks for help of various kinds to several of the friends whom I spoke of in my first volume. To them I must now add Mr. Duffus Hardy and Mr. Edward Edwards. But, above all, I must again express my deep thanks to Professor Stubbs, not only for the benefit derived from his writings, but for his personal readiness to correct and to suggest on all points. Without his help I may truly say that this volume could not be what I trust it is.

Somerleaze, Wells,

April 21st, 1868.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VII.
FROM THE ELECTION OF EADWARD TO THE BANISHMENT OF GODWINE. 1042–1051.
A. D. | | PAGE
| The struggle between Normans and Englishmen begins with the accession of Eadward | 4
| Import of Eadward’s election; resolve of the English people to have none but an English King | 4
| Other possible candidates; Swend Estrithson; Eadward the son of Eadmund | 5
| Eadward the one available representative of the old stock | 5
§ 1. The Election and Coronation of Eadward. 1042–1043.
June, 1042 | Popular election of Eadward | 5
| Delay of the coronation; its probable causes | 6
| Eadward probably absent from England and unwilling to accept the Crown | 6–7
| Embassy to Eadward; negotiations between him and Godwine | 7–8
| Eadward accepts the Crown and returns to England | 8
Christmas? 1042–1043 | Witenagemót of Gillingham | 9
| Opposition to Eadward’s election in the interest of Swend Estrithson | 9
| Eadward the only possible choice; nature of his claims | 10–14
April 3, 1043 | Eadward crowned at Winchester | 14
| Exhortation of Archbishop Eadsige; position of Eadward; his relations to Godwine and the other great Earls | 14–16

Presence of foreign Ambassadors at the coronation; Eadward’s foreign connexions; his relations with Magnus of Denmark and with the French Princes

16–19

| Gifts of the English nobles; Godwine gives a ship to the King | 19–20
§ 2. Condition of England during the early years of Eadward.
| Character of Eadward; his position as a Saint | 20–21
| Eadward’s memory acceptable to Englishmen and Normans alike | 22
| Eadward’s personal character; purely monastic nature of his virtues; points of likeness to his father | 23–24
| His love of hunting; contrast with the humanity of Anselm | 25–27
| Personal appearance and habits of Eadward | 27
| His love of favourites; his fondness for foreigners; promotion of Normans to high office | 28–30
| The Norman Conquest begins under Eadward | 30
| Relations between Eadward and Godwine; Norman calumnies against Godwine and his sons | 30–31
| Character of Godwine; his relations to ecclesiastical bodies; his over care for his own household | 31–33
| His good and strict government of his Earldom | 33–34
| Godwine never reached the same power as Harold did afterwards | 35
| Godwine’s eloquence; importance of speech at the time | 35
1043 | Godwine’s family; Swegen raised to an Earldom | 36
1045? | Promotion of Beorn and Harold | 36–37
| Character of Harold; his military genius | 37–39
| His civil virtues; his singular forbearance; his championship of England against strangers | 39–40
| His foreign travels; his patronage of Germans as opposed to Frenchmen | 40–41

Harold’s personal character; his alleged spoliation of monasteries; his friendship with Saint Wulfstan; his foundation of Waltham

41–42

| Frankness and openness of his personal demeanour; alleged charges of rashness | 42–43
| Story of Eadgyth Swanneshals | 43
| Comparison between Harold and Constantine Palaiologos | 43–44
| Character of Swegen | 44–45
| Character of the Lady Eadgyth; her doubtful loyalty to England; her relations to her husband | 45–47
| Greatness of Godwine and his house | 47–48
| The other Earldoms; Mercia under Leofric; Northumberland under Siward | 48–50
| General condition of England; tendency not to separation but to union; comparison with Frankish history | 50
| Nature of the Earldoms as affected by the Danish conquest; special position of Northumberland | 50–51
| The King’s Writs; light thrown by them on the condition of Folkland | 52–53
| General powers of the Witan not lessened | 53
1040 | Affairs of Scotland; reign and death of Duncan | 53–54
1040–1058 | Reign of Macbeth; his distribution of money at Rome | 54–55
1039–1063 | Affairs of Wales; reign of Gruffydd of North Wales | 55–56
1039 | His victory over Eadwine at Rhyd-y-groes | 56
1042 | His wars in South Wales and victory at Aberteifi | 56
| Eadward’s relations with foreign powers; his connexion with Germany | 56
| Claims of Magnus of Norway on the Crown of England | 57
| The reign of Eadward comparatively peaceful | 57
§ 3. From the Coronation of Eadward to the Remission of the War-tax. 1043–1051.
1043–1051 | Character of the first nine years of Eadward | 58
| Relations between Eadward and his mother; probable offence given by Emma | 58–61
November 16, 1043 | Witenagemót of Gloucester; Eadward and the Earls despoil Emma of her treasure | 61–62
1043–1046 | Probable connexion of Emma with the partizans of Swend; banishments of Osbeorn, Osgod Clapa, Gunhild, and others | 62–64
April–Nov. 1043 | Stigand appointed Bishop of the East-Angles and deposed | 64–65

Importance of ecclesiastical appointments; mode of appointing Bishops; increased connexion with Rome; prevalence of simony

65–68

1044–1050 | Siward Abbot of Abingdon appointed Coadjutor to Archbishop Eadsige; he retires to Abingdon and dies | 68–69
July 25, 1044 | Death of Ælfweard, Bishop of London | 69
August 10, 1044 | Restoration of Stigand; Robert of Jumièges Bishop of London | 70–71
| Baneful influence of Robert; his calumnies against Godwine; his connexion with the Norman Conquest | 70–71
1044–1047 | Condition of Northern Europe; war between Swend and Magnus; conduct of Godescalc | 72–73
1044–1045 | Magnus claims the English Crown; answer of Eadward; preparations against Magnus | 73–74
1030–1044 | Early life and exploits of Harold Hardrada; his escape from Stikkelstad; he enters the Byzantine service | 74–76
1038–1040 | He commands the Warangians in Sicily | 76
| His crusade or pilgrimage; he escapes from Constantinople and joins Swend in Sweden | 76–78
1045 | Swend and Harold attack Magnus and save England from invasion | 78
Jan. 23, 1045 | Marriage of Eadward and Eadgyth; promotions of Harold and Beorn | 79
| Death of Brihtwold, Bishop of the Wilsætas; Hermann of Lotharingia succeeds; policy of the promotion of German prelates | 79–81
March 23, 1046 | Death of Bishop Lyfing; his career and character | 81–83
1046–1072 | Leofric succeeds him in Cornwall and Devonshire | 83
1050 | He removes the see to Exeter, and subjects his Canons to the rule of Chrodegang | 83–85
1046–1062 | Ealdred succeeds Lyfing at Worcester; his character | 85–86
| Gruffydd ap Llywelyn reconciled with the King; his joint expedition with Swegen against Gruffydd ap Rhydderch | 87
| Swegen’s abduction of Eadgifu; he throws up his Earldom and retires to Denmark; suppression of Leominster Abbey | 87–89
| Banishment of Osgod Clapa | 89–90
1047 | Affairs of Scandinavia; Harold joins Magnus and receives a share of the Kingdom of Norway | 90–91

Swend asks help from England; his request is supported in the Witenagemót by Godwine, but rejected on the motion of Leofric

91–92

| Magnus defeats Swend; he occupies Denmark and dies suddenly | 92–93
1048–1061 | Harold succeeds in Norway, Swend in Denmark; their long warfare | 93
1048 | Norwegian and Danish embassies to England; help again refused to Swend; peace concluded with Harold | 93
1046–1047 | Physical phænomena | 93–94
Aug. 29, 1047 | Ælfwine, Bishop of Winchester, dies; Stigand succeeds | 94
1048 | Ravages of Lothen and Yrling; the King and the Earls pursue the pirates, but they escape to Flanders | 94–96
| Relations with Flanders; their analogy with the relations with Normandy in 991 and 1000 | 96
| Alliance with the Emperor Henry; his nomination of German Popes | 96
1048–1054 | Pontificate of Leo the Ninth | 96–97
1047 | Godfrey of Lotharingia and Baldwin of Flanders rebel against the Emperor | 97
1049 | Leo excommunicates Godfrey; Godfrey submits, but Baldwin continues his ravages | 97–98
| Denmark and England join the Emperor against Baldwin; the English fleet watches the Channel; submission of Baldwin | 98–99
| Baldwin’s submission lets loose the English exiles; Osgod Clapa at sea; Swegen seeks reconciliation with Eadward | 99–100
| Harold and Beorn oppose his restoration; his outlawry is renewed | 100–101
| Beorn entrapped and slain by Swegen | 102–104
| Swegen declared Nithing by the army; nature of the military Gemót | 104–105
| Swegen escapes to Flanders and is received by Baldwin; universal indignation against him in England | 105–107
Midlent, 1050 | Swegen restored to his Earldom by the intervention of Bishop Ealdred | 107–109
1049 | Various military operations; movements of Osgod Clapa | 109–110
July | Ships from Ireland in the Bristol Channel joined by Gruffydd of South Wales | 110
July 29 | Campaign of Bishop Ealdred; his defeat by Gruffydd | 110–111
1049–1050 | Increasing connexion of England with the continent; English attendance at synods; synods at Rheims and Mainz | 111–113

1049

Deaths of Bishops and Abbots; Siward dies, and Eadsige resumes the primacy; Eadnoth of Dorchester dies and is succeeded by Ulf the Norman

113

Midlent, 1050 | Witenagemót of London; reduction of the fleet; Swegen inlawed | 114–115
| The King’s vow of pilgrimage to Rome; Bishops Ealdred and Hermann sent to obtain a dispensation | 115–116
| Synods of Rome and Vercelli; Lanfranc and Berengar; Ulf confirmed in his Bishoprick; pilgrimage of Macbeth? | 116–118

Oct. 29

Death of Archbishop Eadsige; the monks of Christ Church elect Ælfric, who is supported by Godwine but rejected by the King

118–120

Midlent, 1051

Witenagemót of London; Robert of Jumièges appointed to Canterbury, Spearhafoc to London, and Rudolf to the Abbey of Abingdon

120–121

July 27 | Robert returns from Rome with the pallium; he refuses to consecrate Spearhafoc, who holds his see without consecration | 121–123
Midlent? | The remaining ships paid off; remission of the Heregeld; distinction between Danegeld and Heregeld | 123–125
§ 4. The Banishment of Earl Godwine. 1051.

The foreign influence at its height; contrast between Danish and Norman influences; revolt of England against the strangers

125–129

| Universal indignation at the appointment of Robert; his cabals against Godwine | 129–130
September | Visit of Eustace of Boulogne to Eadward at Gloucester; his outrages at Dover on his return | 130–133

Eustace accuses the men of Dover to Eadward; Eadward commands Godwine to inflict military chastisement on them; Godwine refuses, and demands a legal trial

133–137

| Robert excites the King against Godwine; the Witan summoned to Gloucester to hear charges against the Earl | 137–138
| Outrages of the Normans in Herefordshire; building of castles; Richard’s Castle | 138–140

Godwine and his sons gather the force of their Earldoms at Beverstone; Siward, Leofric, and Ralph gather theirs at Gloucester

141

Sept. 8

Negotiations between Godwine and the King; Godwine’s offers refused through the influence of the Frenchmen; he demands the surrender of Eustace and the other criminals

142–143

| The full force of the Northern Earldoms assembles at Gloucester; Eadward refuses to surrender Eustace | 143–144
| Eagerness of the Northumbrians for battle; march of the West-Saxons and East-Angles on Gloucester | 144–146
| Mediation of Leofric; adjournment to a Gemót in London | 146–147

Sept. 29

Gemót of London; Eadward at the head of an army; outlawry of Swegen renewed; Godwine and Harold summoned to appear as criminals

147–149

| Final summons to the Earls; their demand for a safe-conduct is refused | 149–150
| Godwine and his family outlawed; Godwine, Swegen, &c., take refuge in Flanders | 151

Harold determines on resistance; he and Leofwine sail from Bristol to Dublin, where they are received by King Diarmid; vain pursuit of Bishop Ealdred

152–155

| Eadgyth sent to Wherwell | 155–156
| General character of the story; explanation of Godwine’s conduct: effect of his fall on the minds of his contemporaries | 157–160
Oct. 1051–Sept. 1052 | Temporary triumph of the Norman party; advancement of Ralph, Odda, and Ælfgar | 160–161
| Spearhafoc deposed and William appointed Bishop of London | 161
| Visit of Duke William | 161–162
CHAPTER VIII.
THE EARLY YEARS OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 1028–1051.
§ 1. Birth, Character, and Accession of William. 1028–1035.
| Character and greatness of William; lasting results of his career | 163–164
| English and Norman portraits of him | 165–166
| His strength of will, military genius, statesmanship, and unscrupulousness as to means | 166–167
| His personal virtues; general excellence of his ecclesiastical appointments | 167–168
| Effects of his reign in Normandy, France, and England | 168–169
| General excellence of his government in Normandy | 169–170

His reign in England; skill displayed in his claim on the English Crown, in his acquisition of it, and in his subsequent government

170–171

| Severity of his police | 171–172
| The worst features of his character brought out in England; crimes and misfortunes of his later years | 172–174
| William’s surnames; the Great, the Conqueror, and the Bastard | 174
| Laxity of the Norman Dukes as to marriage and legitimacy; special illegitimacy of William | 174–175
| Story of William’s birth; description of Falaise; historical associations of the castle | 175–177
| English legend of the birth of William | 177–178
1026–1028 | Story of Robert and Herleva; advancement of her family; birth of William | 178–180
| Question of the succession; state of the Ducal family; various candidates, but none free from objection | 180–182
| Unpopularity of the prospect of William’s succession | 182
| The great Norman houses; their connexion with English history | 182–183
| Greatness and wickedness of the house of Belesme; crimes of William Talvas; he curses young William in his cradle | 183–187
1034–1035 | Robert announces his intention of pilgrimage | 187
| He proposes William as his successor; his succession unwillingly accepted | 188–189
1035 | Robert dies on pilgrimage and William succeeds | 189
| Childhood of William; necessary evils of a minority | 189–191
| Anarchy of the time; building of castles; frequency of assassinations | 191–193
| Effects of William’s government in Normandy | 193
§ 2. From the Accession of William to the Battle of Val-ès-dunes. 1035–1047.
| Guardians of William; Alan of Britanny; Osbern; Gilbert | 193–194
1039–1040 | Murders of Alan and Gilbert | 195
| House of Montgomery; history of Roger of Montgomery and his wife Mabel | 195–197

Attempt of William of Montgomery on Duke William at Vaudreuil; murder of Osbern; escape of the Duke; friendship of the Duke for William Fitz-Osbern

197–198

| Rebellion and death of Roger of Toesny; houses of Grantmesnil and Beaumont | 199
| Ralph of Wacey chosen as the Duke’s guardian | 200–201

Relations between Normandy and France; general good understanding since the Commendation to Hugh the Great; return of ill-feeling on the accession of William; ingratitude of King Henry

201–203

Castle of Tillières demanded by Henry; Gilbert Crispin refuses to surrender, and is besieged; the castle surrendered, burned, and restored by Henry contrary to his engagements

203–205

| Treason of Thurstan Goz; capture of Falaise Castle by the Duke | 205–207
| Developement of William’s character | 207–208
| Abuse of ecclesiastical appointments by the Norman Dukes | 208
| Position of the Norman Prelates; their subjection to the Ducal authority | 209
1037–1055 | Death of Archbishop Robert; succession and primacy of Malger | 209–210
1048–1098 | Odo Bishop of Bayeux; his character in England and in Normandy | 210–212
| Ecclesiastical movement in Normandy; foundation of monasteries | 213
| Character of the monastic reformations in various ages | 213–214
| Abbeys of Bec and Saint Evroul | 214–216
994–1034 | Descent, birth, and early life of Herlwin | 216–219
1034–1037 | Herlwin’s foundation at Burneville | 219
1037–1078 | He removes the monastery to Bec; his administration | 220–222
1005–1039 | Descent, birth, and character of Lanfranc | 222–225
1039–1042 | He teaches at Avranches | 225
1042–1045 | He becomes a monk and Prior of Bec; his favour with William | 225–227
1049–1050 | He attends the synods of Rome and Vercelli | 227
575 | Monastery of Saint Evroul; history of its founder Ebrulf or Evroul | 228–229
943 | The house escapes the Danish ravages, but is plundered by Hugh the Great | 229–230
| The monastery forsaken and restored by Restold | 230
c. 1015 | Geroy and his family; their relations to the house of Belesme | 230–232
| William the son of Geroy blinded by William Talvas | 232
1050 | Saint Evroul restored by William the son of Geroy and his nephews Hugh and Robert of Grantmesnil | 233
1050–1063 | Succession of Abbots; intrigues and abbacy of the co-founder Robert | 233–234
| Connexion of the religious movement in Normandy with the Conquest of England | 234
| Origin of the Truce of God; custom of private war; comparison between the Truce and the Crusades | 234–236
| A reform in those times necessarily ecclesiastical | 237
1034 | The Truce first preached in Aquitaine | 237–239
1041 | The Truce preached in a relaxed form in Burgundy and Lotharingia | 239–240
1042–1080 | The Truce received in Normandy at the Councils of Caen and Lillebonne | 240–241
1047 | Wide spread conspiracy against William | 241
| Intrigues of Guy of Burgundy with the Lords of the Bessin and the Côtentin; scheme for a division of the Duchy | 242–243
| Geographical division of parties; Rouen and the French lands loyal; Bayeux and the Danish lands join in the rebellion | 243–244
| The rebel leaders; Neal of Saint Saviour | 245
| Randolf Viscount of Bayeux | 246
| Hamon Dentatus of Thorigny | 246
| Grimbald of Plessis | 247
| Attempt to seize William at Valognes; his escape | 247–249
| Progress of the rebellion; William seeks help of King Henry; probable motives of Henry for granting it | 250–252
| Battle of Val-ès-dunes; its importance in the life of William | 252
| Val-ès-dunes a battle between Romanized and Teutonic Normandy | 253–254
| Description of the field | 254
| Junction of the Ducal and French forces; Ralph of Tesson joins the Duke | 255–257
| The Battle a mere combat of cavalry | 257–258
| Personal exertions and overthrow of King Henry; death of Hamon | 258–260
| Exploits and good fortune of William | 260–261
| Defeat of the rebels; flight of Randolf; bravery of Neal | 261–263
| Escape of Guy; he defends himself at Brionne | 263–264
1047–1050? | Siege and surrender of Brionne; William’s treatment of the vanquished | 264–267
| Guy returns to Burgundy; fate of Grimbald | 267–268
| Establishment of William’s power in Normandy; supremacy of the French element confirmed | 269–270
§ 3. From the Battle of Val-ès-dunes to William’s Visit to England. 1047–1051.
| The Counts of Anjou; their connexion with Normandy and England; characteristics of Angevin history | 270–271
464 | Saxon occupation of Anjou | 271
870? | Ingelgar first Count; legend of the origin of the family | 271–273
888 | Succession of Counts; Fulk the Red | 273
938 | Fulk the Good; his proverb about unlearned Kings | 273–274
958 | Geoffrey Grisegonelle; his wars | 274
978 | His services to King Lothar in the war with Otto | 274
987 | Fulk Nerra, warrior and pilgrim | 274
992 | His war with Odo of Chartres | 274
1016 | Battle of Pontlevois; defeat of Odo | 274
1028–1035 | Fulk’s pilgrimages to Jerusalem | 275
1040 | Geoffrey Martel; origin of his surname | 276
April 22, 1033 | Geoffrey imprisons William Duke of Aquitaine, marries Agnes, and rebels against his father | 276–277
1033–1037 | Last days of Odo of Chartres; his war with King Henry and attempt on the Kingdom of Burgundy | 277

1044

His sons Stephen and Theobald; their wars with King Henry and with Geoffrey; Geoffrey receives Tours from Henry and imprisons Theobald

277–278

1048 | Duke William helps King Henry against Geoffrey; his personal exploits | 279–280
| Position of Maine under Geoffrey | 280
1015–1036 | Succession of Counts; Herbert Wake-the-Dog and Hugh | 280
1048–1049 | Fortresses of Domfront and Alençon; disloyalty of Alençon; it receives an Angevin garrison | 281–282
| William’s march to Domfront; traitors in the Norman camp | 283–284
| Geoffrey comes to relieve Domfront and decamps | 284–286
| William’s sudden march to Alençon; insults offered to him; his capture of the town and cruel vengeance | 287–288
| Domfront surrenders; William fortifies Ambières | 289
| Story of William the Warling; he is charged with treason by Robert the Bigod | 290–291
| Duke William makes him leave Normandy, and gives his county of Mortain to his own half-brother Robert | 292
1049–1054 | Prosperous condition of Normandy | 293
1049–1053 | William’s courtship and marriage with Matilda of Flanders | 293
1051–1052 | Condition of England | 294
1051 | William’s visit to England; estimate of him in English eyes | 295
| Eadward’s alleged promise of the Crown to William probably made at this time | 296–301
| Constitutional value of such a promise; its revocation in favour of Harold | 301
| Improbability of any other time for the promise | 302–303
| Nature of William’s claims | 304
| William’s visit an important stage in the history | 305
March 6, 1052 | Death of Ælfgifu-Emma | 306
CHAPTER IX.
THE REIGN OF EADWARD FROM THE RETURN OF GODWINE TO THE DEATH OF EADWARD THE ÆTHELING. 1052–1057.
| Character of the period; little direct connexion between English and Norman affairs | 307–308
§ 1. The Return and Death of Godwine. 1052–1053.
1052 | General regret at the absence of Godwine; he receives invitations to return | 308–310
| Eadward gathers a fleet at Sandwich to oppose Godwine | 310
| Ravages of Gruffydd of North Wales; his victory near Leominster | 311–312
| Godwine petitions for his restoration; embassies of foreign princes on his behalf; his restoration is refused | 312–313
| Godwine determines on a return by force; estimate of his conduct | 313–315
| Harold and Leofwine sail from Dublin and enter the Bristol Channel | 315
| The people of Somersetshire and Devonshire ill disposed towards them; probable grounds for their hostility | 316
| Harold’s landing and victory at Porlock; estimate of his conduct | 316–319
June 22 | Godwine sets sail; his first appearance off the English coast | 319–320
| Both fleets dispersed by a storm; Godwine returns to Bruges | 320–321
| Godwine sails the second time to Wight; meeting of Godwine and Harold; they sail eastward together | 321–322
| Zeal in their cause shown by the men of Sussex, Surrey, Kent, and Essex | 322–323
| They enter the Thames and sail towards London | 323
Sept. 14 | Godwine reaches Southwark; London declares for him | 323–324
| The King hastens to London with an army | 324–325
| Godwine before London; zeal of his followers and lukewarmness of the King’s troops | 326–327
| Godwine demands his restoration; Eadward hesitates | 328
| The indignation of Godwine’s men restrained by the Earl | 328–329
| Embassy of Stigand; hostages exchanged; and matters referred to a Gemót on the morrow | 329
| Godwine and Harold land | 329
| Fears of the King’s Norman favourites; general flight of the foreigners | 329–331
Sept. 15 | Robert and Ulf cut their way out of London; the Mycel Gemót assembles without the walls of London; its popular character | 332–333
| Godwine at the Gemót; he supplicates the King and speaks to the people | 333–334

Votes of the Assembly; acquittal and restoration of Godwine; outlawry of Archbishop Robert and many other Normans; “Good law decreed for all folk”

335–337

| Personal reconciliation between Godwine and the King | 337
| Restoration of Eadgyth | 337–338
| Absence of Swegen; his pilgrimage to Jerusalem | 338
Sept. 29 | He dies in Lykia | 338
| Disposal of Earldoms; restoration of Harold; Earldoms of Ralph and Odda | 339
| The vacant Bishopricks; relations between Church and State | 339–340
| Stigand appointed to Canterbury; his doubtful ecclesiastical position; handle given to the Normans by Robert’s expulsion | 340–344
1053–1067 | Wulfwig succeeds Ulf at Dorchester | 344
1053–1067 | Leofwine Bishop of Lichfield; Leofwine and Wulfwig seek consecration beyond sea | 344
1051–1070 | William of London retains his Bishoprick | 345–346
| Normans allowed to remain or return; some of them probably restored after Godwine’s death; Osbern of Richard’s Castle | 346–348
| Estimate of Godwine’s conduct; his illness | 348
1052–1053 | Christmas Gemót at Gloucester | 348
Jan. 5, 1053 | Rhys ap Rhydderch beheaded and his head brought to Eadward | 349
1053–1066 | Arnwig resigns the Abbey of Peterborough; succession and administration of Leofric | 349–350
1053 | Easter Gemót at Winchester | 350
April 12 | Godwine taken ill at the King’s table | 350
April 15 | His death and burial; gifts of his widow Gytha | 350–352
| General grief of the nation; true estimate of Godwine’s character | 352–354
§ 2. From the Accession of Harold to the Earldom of the West-Saxons to his first War with Gruffydd. 1053–1056.
| Nature of the succession to Earldoms; different positions of Mercia and Northumberland and of Wessex and East-Anglia | 354–355
| Reasons for retaining the West-Saxon Earldom | 355–356
Easter, 1053 | Harold Earl of the West-Saxons; Ælfgar Earl of the East-Angles; character of Ælfgar and his sons | 356–357
| Probable restoration of Bishop William and other Normans | 358

Position of the Normans in Eadward’s later days; political office forbidden, but court office allowed; Eadward’s later policy thoroughly English

358–359

| Different positions of Godwine and Harold with regard to the foreigners | 359–360
Christmas, 1053–1054 | Ecclesiastical appointments; Leofwine of Lichfield and Wulfwig of Dorchester | 361
1053–1082 | Æthelnoth Abbot of Glastonbury | 361
1053–July 17, 1054 | Bishop Ealdred holds the Abbey of Winchcombe with his See | 361–362
| Welsh inroad at Westbury | 362
1054 | Macbeth in Scotland; Siward’s expedition against him; Macbeth’s alliance with Thorfinn | 362–364
July 27 | Siward defeats Macbeth; Malcolm declared King of Scots; legends about Siward | 364–365
1054–1058 | The war continued by Macbeth; his final defeat and death | 365–366
1058 | Ephemeral reign of Lulach; Malcolm King over all Scotland | 366
| Erroneous popular conception of the war with Macbeth | 366
1054 | State of the royal family; position of Ralph; of the descendants of Eadmund Ironside | 367–370
| The Ætheling Eadward invited to England; import of the invitation | 370–372
July | Embassy of Ealdred and Ælfwine to the Emperor Henry; Ealdred’s long stay at Köln | 372–374
| Death of Osgod Clapa | 374
1055 | Death of Earl Siward; his foundation at Galmanho; his son Waltheof | 374–375
March | Tostig appointed Earl of the Northumbrians; novelty of the appointment; its doubtful policy | 375–379
| Character and government of Tostig; his personal favour with Eadward; legends about him and Harold | 379–383
| Tostig’s sworn brotherhood with Malcolm | 384–385
March 20 | Banishment of Ælfgar | 385–386
| Ælfgar hires ships in Ireland; he ravages Herefordshire in alliance with Gruffydd | 386–388
October 24 | Battle near Hereford; defeat of the English through the innovations of Earl Ralph | 388–390
| Gruffydd and Ælfgar sack and burn Hereford | 390–392
| Harold sent against the Welsh; comparison of his earlier and later Welsh campaigns | 393–394
| Harold restores and fortifies Hereford | 394–395
Christmas 1055–1056 | Peace of Billingsley; general mildness of English political warfare | 395
| Ælfgar restored to his Earldom | 396
Feb. 10, 1056 | Death of Æthelstan Bishop of Hereford; invasion of Magnus and Gruffydd | 396–397
March 27–June 16 | Short and warlike episcopate of Leofgar of Hereford; his death in battle; character of the war with Gruffydd | 397–398
1056–1060 | Ealdred holds the See of Hereford with that of Worcester | 398
1056 | Gruffydd reconciled to Eadward; his oath of homage; he is mulcted of his lands in Cheshire | 398–400
| Cooperation of Harold, Leofric, and Ealdred | 400–401
§ 3. From Harold’s first Campaign against Gruffydd to the Deaths of Leofric and Ralph. 1055–1057.

Christmas 1055–1056

Ecclesiastical affairs; Hermann of Ramsbury tries to annex the Abbey of Malmesbury to his Bishoprick; his scheme hindered by Harold

401–405

1056–1058 | Hermann retires to Saint Omer; he returns and unites the Sees of Ramsbury and Sherborne | 405–406
August 31, 1056 | Death of Earl Odda | 407
1056–1071 | Æthelric of Durham resigns his See; succession of his brother Æthelwine | 407–408
1057 | The Ætheling Eadward comes to England; his intended succession to the Crown; his death | 408–410
| Probable reasons why he never saw the King | 410–412
| Surmise of Sir F. Palgrave that Harold caused his death; its injustice | 412–414
| Death of Heaca, Bishop of the South-Saxons; Æthelric succeeds | 414
August 31 | Death of Earl Leofric; fate of Godgifu | 414–415
Dec. 21 | Death of Earl Ralph; his possible pretensions to the Crown | 415–416
Christmas 1057–1058 | Redistribution of Earldoms; Ælfgar Earl of the Mercians; marriage of his daughter Ealdgyth with Gruffydd | 416
| Herefordshire added to Harold’s Earldom; Harold the son of Ralph | 417
| Gyrth Earl of the East-Angles and of Oxfordshire; policy of detached shires | 418
| Leofwine Earl of Kent, Essex, &c.; London not under any Earl | 419
1058–1065 | The House of Godwine at its highest point of greatness | 419–420
| Harold’s prospects of the Crown | 420

Position of Harold; effects of Eadward’s promise to William; the candidates of the patriotic party, first the Ætheling, then Harold

420–422

| Quasi-royal position of Harold; probably no formal act, but a general understanding in his favour | 424–427
| Harold chief ruler of England | 427
CHAPTER X.
THE REIGN OF EADWARD, FROM THE DEATH OF THE ÆTHELING TO THE DEATH OF THE KING. 1057–1066.
§ 1. The Ecclesiastical Administration of Earl Harold. 1058–1062.
| Dominant position of Harold; predominance of ecclesiastical affairs; Harold in relation to the Church | 428–430
1058? | Harold’s pilgrimage to Rome; he studies the politics of the French Princes on his way | 430–431
1057–1061 | Succession of Popes; Stephen the Ninth; Benedict the Tenth; Nicholas the Second | 431–432

1058

Benedict probably in possession at the time of Harold’s visit; he grants the pallium to Stigand, probably through Harold’s influence

432

Temporary recognition of Stigand after his receipt of the pallium; the new Bishops Æthelric and Siward are consecrated by him

433

| Harold returns to England | 433–434
| Second outlawry and return of Ælfgar | 434–435

681–1058

Ecclesiastical history of Gloucester; death of Abbot Eadric; Bishop Ealdred rebuilds and consecrates the church and appoints Wulfstan Abbot

435–436

1058 | Ealdred restores the See of Ramsbury to Hermann and makes the pilgrimage to Jerusalem | 436–437
April 23, 1059 | Mannig resigns the abbacy of Evesham and is succeeded by Æthelwig | 437–438
| Deposition of Pope Benedict; its effect on the position of Stigand | 439
May 3, 1060 | Consecration of Harold’s minster at Waltham | 439
| Nature and importance of the foundation; its character generally misunderstood | 439–440
| Harold’s acquisition of Waltham; he rebuilds the church and founds a secular college | 441–442
| Distinction between the foundation of secular colleges and of monasteries | 442
| Harold’s zeal for education; Adelard of Lüttich | 443–444

Continuance of the struggle between regulars and seculars; Harold a friend of the seculars; general witness to his character borne by the foundation

444–446

| The church consecrated by Archbishop Cynesige; the foundation charter dated two years later | 446–447
Dec. 22 | Death of Cynesige | 447
Dec. 25 | Ealdred appointed Archbishop of York in the Gemót at Gloucester | 447–448
1060–1079 | Ealdred resigns the See of Hereford and is succeeded by Walter | 448
1060–1088 | Death of Duduc Bishop of Wells; he is succeeded by Gisa | 449–450
| Later careers of Walter and Gisa; Gisa’s changes at Wells; comparisons between the foundations of Harold and Gisa | 451–453
April 15, 1061 | Gisa and Walter consecrated at Rome | 453–454
April 18–May 26 | Death of Wulfric, Abbot of Saint Augustine’s; his successor Æthelsige receives the benediction from Stigand | 454–455
| Journey to Rome of Ealdred, Tostig, and Gyrth | 455–456
| Pope Nicolas confirms the privileges of Westminster, but refuses the pallium to Ealdred, and deprives him of his See | 456–457
| Tostig and the Bishops robbed on their way home | 457
| They return to Rome, and the Pope yields the pallium to the threats of Tostig | 457–459
| Ill effects of the practice of pilgrimage; Malcolm invades Northumberland during the absence of Tostig | 459–460
Lent, 1062 | Vacancy of the See of Worcester; papal legates in England | 460–461
| Ealdred hesitates between Abbot Æthelwig and Wulfstan Prior of Worcester | 461–462
1012–1062 | Life and character of Wulfstan | 462–464
Easter 1062 | Wulfstan elected Bishop; the election confirmed by the Witan | 464–466
Sept. 8 | Wulfstan consecrated by Ealdred, but makes profession to Stigand | 466–467
Easter 1063 | The King’s charter to the College at Waltham. | 467
| Ælfwig, uncle of Harold, appointed Abbot of New Minster | 467–468
§ 2. The Welsh War and its Consequences. 1062–1065.
1062 | Renewed ravages of Gruffydd; probable death of Ælfgar, who is succeeded in his Earldom by his son Eadwine | 468–469
Christmas 1062–1063 | Gemót at Gloucester; Harold’s sudden march to Rhuddlan | 468–470

Harold’s great Welsh campaign; its permanent effect on men’s minds; testimony of John of Salisbury and of Giraldus Cambrensis

470–471

May 26, 1063 | Harold and Tostig invade Wales; Harold adopts the Welsh tactics; all Wales reduced to submission | 472–474
August 5 | Gruffydd murdered by his own people | 475
| The Welsh Kingdom granted to Bleddyn and Rhiwallon | 475–476
| Alleged legislation about Wales | 476–477
1064? | Harold marries Ealdgyth; the marriage probably a political one | 477–478
August 1, 1065 | Harold builds a hunting-seat for Eadward at Portskewet | 479
August 24 | Caradoc son of Gruffydd of South Wales kills the workmen | 480
§ 3. The Revolt of Northumberland. 1065.
| Oppressive government of Tostig in Northumberland | 481
1064 | Charges against him; murder of Gamel and Ulf | 482
Dec. 28 | Murder of Gospatric in the King’s Court; attributed to Tostig and Eadgyth | 482
Oct. 3, 1065 | Revolt of Northumberland; rebel Gemót at York | 483
| Constitutional position of Northumberland; frequent absence of Tostig; his deputy Copsige | 483–485
| Acts of the rebel Gemót; vote of deposition and outlawry against Tostig; Morkere elected Earl | 485
| Objects of Eadwine and Morkere; they aim at the division of the Kingdom; constant treasons of Eadwine | 486–487
| Oswulf Earl in Bernicia or Northumberland | 487
| The Northumbrians put to death Amund and Reavenswart | 488
October 4 | General massacre of Tostig’s followers and plunder of his treasury | 489
| Morkere and the Northumbrians march to Northampton; Eadwine joins them; presence of Welshmen in his army | 489–490
| Ravages of the Northumbrians in Northamptonshire and the neighbouring shires | 490–491

Negotiations between the King and the rebels; Harold carries a summons to lay down their arms and submit their grievances to legal discussion

491

| Answer of the Northumbrians | 491–492
| Eadward holds a Gemót at Bretford; debates in the Council | 492–493
| Tostig charges Harold with stirring up the revolt; Harold denies the charge on oath | 493–494
| Eadward’s eagerness for war; he is kept back by Harold and others | 494–495
| Position of Harold; his public duty and private interest in the controversy; complete agreement of the two | 495–498

October 28

Gemót of Oxford; acts of the York Gemót confirmed; Waltheof made Earl of Northamptonshire and Huntingdonshire; renewal of Cnut’s Law

498–500

Nov. 1 | Banishment of Tostig; he takes refuge in Flanders | 500–501
§ 4. The Last Days of Eadward. 1065–1066.
| Eadward’s last sickness; his devotion to Saint Peter | 501–503
1051–1065 | His foundation at Westminster in honour of the Apostle; reverse order of proceeding at Westminster and at Waltham | 503–504
653–1051 | Early history of Westminster | 504–505
| Permanence of Eadward’s minster and palace; existing remains of his buildings | 506–508
1065 | Completion of the church; the first great example of Norman architecture in England | 508–510
| Legends | 510–513
Sept. 1065 | Consecration of Eadgyth’s church at Wilton | 513
Dec. 25–28 | Midwinter Gemót at Westminster; consecration of the church | 513–514
Jan. 5, 1066 | Death of Eadward | 515
Jan. 6 | Burial of Eadward and coronation of Harold | 515
| Summary | 515–516
APPENDIX.
Note A. | The Election and Coronation of Eadward | 517
B. | The Legendary History of Eadward | 525
C. | Eadward’s Fondness for Foreign Churchmen | 535
D. | English and Norman Estimates of Godwine and Harold | 536
E. | The Alleged Spoliations of the Church by Godwine and Harold | 543
F. | The Children of Godwine | 552
G. | The Great Earldoms during the Reign of Eadward | 555
H. | The Legend of Emma | 568
I. | The Welsh Campaign of 1049 | 571
K. | Danegeld and Heregeld | 574
L. | The Banishment of Godwine | 575
M. | The Surnames of William | 581
N. | The Birth of William | 583
O. | The Battle of Val-ès-dunes | 590
P. | The Counts of Anjou and of Chartres | 591
Q. | The Imprisonment of William of Aquitaine | 594
R. | The Ravages attributed to Harold and Godwine | 596
S. | The Narratives of the Return of Godwine | 598
T. | The Pilgrimage of Swegen | 603
U. | The Ecclesiastical Position of Stigand | 605
W. | The Death of Earl Godwine | 608
X. | The War with Macbeth | 613
Y. | The Mission of Ealdred and the Return of the Ætheling Eadward | 619
Z. | The Supposed Enmity between Harold and Tostig | 623
AA. | Æthelstan, Bishop of Hereford | 628
BB. | The Family of Leofric | 629
CC. | Harold the Son of Ralph | 632
DD. | The Quasi-Royal Position of Earl Harold | 634
EE. | Harold’s Foreign Travels and Pilgrimage | 635
FF. | The Quarrel between Earl Harold and Bishop Gisa | 637
GG. | Ælfwig Abbot of New Minster | 644
HH. | The Revolt of Northumberland | 646

ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS.

p. 14, note 4, for “manude” read “monude.”

p. 46, note 1, for “men” read “man.”

p. 50, side-note, for “Earldom” read “Earldoms.”

p. 52, l. 7. There is another writ which, though neither Northumberland nor any Northumbrian Earl is distinctly mentioned, is clearly meant to run in Northumberland more than anywhere else. This is the writ in Cod. Dipl. iv. 230, addressed, according to a form found elsewhere, to the Bishops, Earls, and Thegns of all those shires in which Archbishop Ealdred had any lands “Eadward cyngc grét míne biscopas and míne eorlas and ealle mýne þegenas on ðam scýran ðær Ealdred ærcebisceop hæfeð land inne freóndlíce”). Among these shires Gloucestershire is doubtless included, but Yorkshire must have stood foremost.

p. 70, note 1. See p. 438.

p. 82, l. 5. There is an odd notice of Lyfing’s plurality of Bishopricks in a deed in Cod. Dipl. vi. 195. It is a conveyance of lands to Sherborne made in a Scirgemót of Devonshire held at Exeter under the presidency of Earl Godwine. Lyfing is one of the witnesses, and he is described as “Lyfing bisceop be norðan,” as if a Devonshire man’s notions of Worcester were not very clear. Worcester was clearly the see which Lyfing loved best.

p. 89, note 3. I ought here to have added another entry in the same folio of Domesday, which I knew perfectly well, but which did not catch my eye when I wrote this note. In the second column of fol. 180 are the words “Abbatissa tenet Fencote, et ipsa tenuit T. R. E.” This, and the entry about “victus monialium,” are the whole account of the monastery. This entry however may well agree with my view of the case. Fencote is but a small dependency of Leominster, and it was probably a portion set aside for Eadgifu’s personal maintenance. If so, she survived her error forty years.

p. 108, l. 14. Perhaps more accurately, in the Earldom of Ralph, under the superior authority of Leofric. See p. 563.

p. 115, note 5. On seeming anachronisms of this kind see p. 634. Cf. p. 111, note 1.

p. 134, note 2. On the bare possibility that Tostig may have held some subordinate government as early as this time, see p. 567.

p. 165, l. 3. To prevent misconception, it may be needful to explain to some readers that there was a Napoleon Buonaparte, who was crowned at Paris (see vol. i. p. 268) and who died at Saint Helena, and who slew more men in unjust wars than probably any one man in Europe since Caius Julius Cæsar.

p. 180, l. 11, for “so perilous an enterprise” read “the same perilous enterprise.”

p. 209, l. 2, for “Princes” read “Prince.”

p. 248, l. 15, after “half dressed” read “himself.”

p. 249, note 3, for “of the Monasticon” read “in the Monasticon.”

p. 278, note 1, for “contigerât” read “contigerat.”

p. 284, note 2. I have to thank my friend Mr. Dimock for the explanation that “accipiter” is the goshawk, while the sparrow-hawk is “nisus.” From the point of view of the small birds the difference is perhaps not very important.

p. 287, note 2, for “than that at Alençon” read “than he was at Alençon.”

p. 322, l. 24, after “from Kent” read “from Surrey.”

P· 337, l. 17. See p. 602.

p. 342, note 2, for “filli” read “filii.”

p. 347, note 3. Of Ralph the Staller I shall have to speak more at large in my next volume. I suspect him to be the Ralph mentioned in the Chronicles under the year 1075.

p. 349, note 2. On Leofric’s plurality of abbeys see also the Peterborough Chronicle, 1066.

p. 359, note 1. “Bundinus,” that is Bondig, was an Englishman. I shall have to speak of him again.

p. 368, l. 8, for “around” read “beneath.”

p. 373, l. 3, for “West-Frankish” read “East-Frankish.”

p. 418, l. 4 from bottom, for “whenever” read “wherever.”

p. 423, l. 8 from bottom, dele “indeed.”

p. 433, l. 15, for “fell vacant in the course of the year” read “were now vacant.” It seems uncertain whether Heaca died in 1057 or in 1058 (see p. 414): if the former year is right, the see of Selsey must have remained vacant a year. As this is not likely, the expression in the text is probably true, but it is better to leave the matter uncertain.

Ib. note 1, for “disposition” read “disposal.”

p. 436, l. 10. The three Wulfstans—Wulfstan, Bishop of Worcester, Archbishop of York, and founder of Gloucester Abbey—Wulfstan, monk of Worcester and Abbot of Gloucester—and Saint Wulfstan, Prior and Bishop of Worcester,—must be carefully distinguished from each other. All were alive at once, and the last two were strictly contemporary, and all had more or less to do with Worcester and Gloucester.

p. 441, l. 8. I shall discuss in my third volume the possibility of this Esegar being the “Ansgardus” of Guy of Amiens. The idea had not occurred to me when I wrote this part of the text.

p. 448, l. 18, for “two” read “four” = 1056–1060.

p. 451, note 6. On this Azor and others of the name, see p. 642.

p. 461, note 5, for “436” read “438.”

p. 465, note 5, for “1262” read “1062.”

p. 467, note 3. This charge against Ealdred is confirmed by the entries in Domesday, 164 b. “Eldred archiepiscopus tenuit Stanedis. De dominio Sancti Petri de Glouuecestre fuit.” “Sanctus Petrus de Glouuecestre tenuit Lecce, et Eldred archiepiscopus tenuit cum abbatiâ.” Both these are lordships in Gloucestershire, which were still held by the see of York at the time of the Survey. It is not so clear when we read of a third lordship in the same list; “Eldredus archiepiscopus tenuit Otintune.... Thomas archiepiscopus tenet. Sanctus Petrus de Glouuecestre habuit in dominio donec Rex Willelmus in Angliam venit.” Does this mean that Ealdred, who was, for some time at least, in William’s favour, continued his spoliations of the monks of Gloucester after his accession?

p. 479, l. 12, for “seem well” read “well seem.” See p. 651.

p. 487, l. 9, and 497, l. 19. See p. 651.

p. 511, l. 16. The Bishop meant would doubtless be Stigand as Bishop of the diocese; by the same showing the Abbot would most likely be Harold’s uncle Ælfwig, the Abbot of the neighbouring house of New Minster.

p. 531, l. 24. Cf. Ovid, Metamorph. x. 467;

“Forsitan ætatis quoque nomine, Filia, dicat.”

p. 541, l. 10, for “this” read “his.”

p. 545, l. 7, for “againt” read “against.”

p. 553, l. 14. The list in the Knytlirga Saga, c. 11, is no less strange; Harold, Tostig, “Maurakaare,” Waltheof, and Swend.

p. 598, l. 9 from bottom, for “late” read “later,” and in last line but one dele “than.”

p. 607, l. 11 from bottom, for “præsente” read “præsentem.”

p. 611, l. 13 from bottom, for “minded” read “reminded.”

THE HISTORY
OF THE
NORMAN CONQUEST OF ENGLAND.

CHAPTER VII.

FROM THE ELECTION OF EADWARD TO THE BANISHMENT OF GODWINE.[1] 1042–1051.

We have thus far gone through the course of those events which acted as the more distant causes of the Norman Conquest; with the accession of Eadward we |The struggle between Normans and Englishmen begins with the accession of Eadward.| stand on the threshold of the Conquest itself. The actual subjugation of England by force of arms is still twenty-four years distant; but the struggle between Norman and Englishman for dominion in England has already begun. That such would be the result of Eadward’s accession was certainly not looked for by those who raised him to the throne. Never was any prince called to assume a crown by a more distinct expression of the national will. “All folk chose Eadward to King.” The |Import of Eadward’s election; resolve of the English people to have none but an English King.| choice expressed the full purpose of the English nation to endure no King but one who was their bone and their flesh. No attachment to the memory of the great Cnut could survive the utter misgovernment of his sons. The thought of another Danish King was now hateful. Yet the royal house of Denmark contained at least one prince who was in every way worthy to reign. Could the |Other possible candidates; Swend Estrithson;| national feeling have endured another Danish ruler, Swend Estrithson might have governed England as prudently and as prosperously as he afterwards governed Denmark. But the great qualities of Swend had as yet hardly shown themselves. He could have been known at this time only as a young adventurer, who had signally failed in the only great exploit which he had attempted.[2] And, above all things, the feeling of the moment called for an Englishman, for an Ætheling of the blood of Cerdic. One |Eadward the son of Eadmund.| such Ætheling only was at hand. One son of Eadmund Ironside was now grown up to manhood, but he had been from his infancy an exile in a distant land. Most likely no one thought of him as a possible candidate for the Crown; it may well be that his very existence was |Position of Eadward.| generally forgotten. In the eyes of Englishmen there was now only one representative of the ancient royal house. Eadward, the son of Æthelred and Emma, the brother of the murdered and half-canonized Ælfred, had long been familiar to English imaginations, and, since the accession of his half-brother Harthacnut, the English Court had been his usual dwelling-place. Eadward, and Eadward alone, stood forth as the heir of English royalty, the representative of English nationality. In his behalf the popular voice spoke out at once and unmistakeably. “Before the King buried were, all folk chose Eadward to King at London.”

§ 1. The Election and Coronation of Eadward. 1042–1043.

Popular election of Eadward. June, 1042.

The general course of events at this time is perfectly plain, but there is a good deal of difficulty as to some of the details.[3] The popular election of Eadward took place in June, immediately on the death of Harthacnut, and even before his burial; but it is very remarkable that |His coronation delayed till the next year.| the coronation of the new King did not take place till Easter in the next year.[4] This delay is singular, and needs explanation. The consecration of a King was then not |Importance of the coronation-rite.| a mere pageant, but a rite of the utmost moment, partaking almost of a sacramental character. Without it the King was not King at all, or King only in a very imperfect sense. We have seen how impossible it was for the uncrowned Harthacnut to retain his hold upon Wessex.[5] The election of the Witan gave to the person chosen the sole right to the Crown, but he was put into actual possession of the royal office only by the ecclesiastical consecration. Eadward then, for nearly ten months after his first election, could not be looked on as “full King,”[6] but as at most King-elect. What could be the cause of such a delay? The notion of a general war with the Danes in England, which might otherwise account for it, I have elsewhere shown to be without foundation.[7] The circumstances of the time would seem to have been singularly unsuited for any delay. We should have expected that the same burst of popular feeling which carried Eadward’s immediate and unanimous election would also have demanded the exclusion of any possible competitor by an immediate |Probable causes of the delay; Eadward most likely absent from England, and unwilling to accept the Crown.| coronation. But the fact was otherwise. The explanation of so singular a state of things is most likely to be found in certain hints which imply that it was caused, partly by Eadward’s absence from England, partly by an unwillingness on his part to accept the Crown. There is strong reason to believe that Eadward was not in England at the moment of his half-brother’s death. Harthacnut had indeed recalled him to England, and his court had become the English Ætheling’s ordinary dwelling-place. But this fact in no way shuts out the possibility that Eadward may have been absent on the Continent at any particular moment, on a visit to some of his French or Norman friends, or on a pilgrimage to some French or Norman sanctuary. Meanwhile the sudden death of Harthacnut left the throne vacant. As in other cases before and after,[8] the citizens of London, whose importance grows at every step, together with such of the other Witan as were at hand, met at once and chose Eadward King. As he was absent, and his consent was doubtful, an embassy |Embassy to Eadward.| had to be sent to him, as embassies had been sent to his father Æthelred[9] and to his brother Harthacnut,[10] inviting him to return and receive the Crown. That embassy, we are told, consisted of Bishops and Earls; we can hardly doubt that at the head of their several orders stood two men whom all accounts set before us as the leaders in the promotion of Eadward. These were Lyfing, Bishop of |Negotiations between Eadward and Godwine.| Worcester, and Godwine, Earl of the West-Saxons.[11] A remarkable negotiation now took place between the Earl and the King-elect. Details of private conversations are always suspicious, but the dialogue attributed to the Earl and the Ætheling contains nothing but what is thoroughly suited to the circumstances of the case. We can fully understand that Eadward, either from timidity or from his monastic turn, might shrink from the labour and responsibility of reigning at all, and that, with his Norman tastes, he might look forward with very little satisfaction to the prospect of reigning over Englishmen. Such scruples |Speech of Godwine.| were driven away by the arguments and eloquence of the great Earl. The actual speech put into his mouth may be the composition of the historian, but it contains the arguments which cannot fail to have been used in such a case. It was better to live gloriously as a King than to die ingloriously in exile. Eadward was the son of Æthelred, the grandson of Eadgar; the Crown was therefore his natural inheritance. His personal position and character would form a favourable contrast to those of the two worthless youths who had misgoverned England since the death of Cnut.[12] His years and experience fitted him to rule; he was of an age to act vigorously when severity was needed; he had known the ups and downs of life; he had been purified by poverty and exile, and would therefore know how to show mercy when mercy was called for.[13] If he had any doubts, he, Godwine, was ready to maintain his cause; his power was great enough both to procure the election of a candidate, and to secure |Eadward accepts the Crown.| his throne when elected.[14] Eadward was persuaded; he consented to accept the Crown; he plighted his friendship to the Earl, and it may be that he promised to confer honours on his sons and to take his daughter in marriage. But stories of private stipulations of this kind are always doubtful. It is enough that Godwine had, as all accounts agree, the chief hand in raising Eadward to the throne.

He returns to England.

Eadward now seems to have returned to England, probably in company with Godwine and the other am|Witenagemót of Gillingham. 1042–3.| *bassadors. The Witan presently met at Gillingham in Wiltshire; and it would seem that the acceptance of Eadward’s claims was now somewhat less unanimous than it had been during the first burst of enthusiasm which followed the death of Harthacnut. Godwine brought forward Eadward as a candidate, he urged his claims with all his powers of speech, and himself set the example of |Opposition to Eadward’s election;| becoming his man on the spot. Still an opposition arose in the Assembly, which it needed all the eloquence of Godwine and Lyfing to overcome. They had even, as it would seem, to stoop to a judicious employment of the less noble arts of statesmanship. The majority indeed were won over by the authority of the man whom all England looked on as a father.[15] But the votes of some had to be gained by presents, or, in plain words, by bribes.[16] Others, it would seem, stood out against Eadward’s |apparently in the interest of Swend.| election to the last. This opposition, we cannot doubt, came from a Danish party which supported the claims of Swend Estrithson. That prince, on return from his first unsuccessful war with Magnus, had found his cousin Harthacnut dead, and Eadward already King as far as his first election could make him so.[17] But the delay of the coronation, the uncertainty of Eadward’s acceptance of the Crown, might well make the hopes of |Alleged negotiations between Eadward and Swend.| Swend and his partisans revive. We can hardly believe the tale, though it rests apparently on the assertion of Swend himself, that he demanded the Crown, and that Eadward made peace with him, making the usual compromise that Swend should succeed him on his death, even though he should leave sons.[18] Such an agreement would of course be of no force without the consent of the Witan. That consent may have been given in the Assembly at Gillingham; but such an arrangement seems hardly credible. The English nation no doubt fully intended that the Crown should remain in the House of Cerdic, and Godwine probably already hoped that in the next generation the blood of Cerdic would be united with the blood of Wulfnoth. But it is certain that Swend was in some way or other reconciled to Eadward and Godwine, for we shall presently find Swend acting as the friend of England, and Godwine acting as the special champion of the interests of Swend.[19] The son of Ulf was, it will be remembered, the nephew of Gytha, and this family connexion no doubt pleaded for him as far as was consistent with Godwine’s higher and nearer objects. One of Swend’s brothers, Beorn, remained in England, where he was soon raised to a great Earldom, and seems to have been counted in all respects as a member of the house of Godwine. But the friends of Swend in general were set down for future punishment.[20] In the end confiscation or banishment fell on the most eminent of them. Among them was Osbeorn, another brother of the Danish King, whom we shall hear of in later times as betraying the claims of his brother, and therewith the hopes of England, into the hand of the Norman Conqueror.

Eadward the only possible choice.

Eadward was thus raised to the throne mainly through the exertions of the two patriotic leaders, Godwine and Lyfing. It is vain to argue whether Godwine did wisely in pressing his election. There was in truth no other choice. The only other possible candidates were Swend, and Magnus of Norway, of whose claims we shall hear again presently. But English feeling called for an English King, and there was no English King but Eadward to be had. That Godwine could have procured his own election to the Crown, that the thought of such an election could have occurred to himself or to any one else, is an utterly wild surmise.[21] If Godwine met with some opposition when pressing the claims of Eadward, that opposition would have increased tenfold had he ventured to dream of the Crown for himself. The nomination of the West-Saxon Earl would have been withstood to the death, not only by a handful of Danes, but by Leofric and Siward, probably, in Siward’s case at least, at the head of the whole force of their Earldoms. The time was not yet come for the election of a King not of the royal house. There was no manifest objection to the election of Eadward, and, though Godwine was undoubtedly the most powerful man in England, he had not reached that marked and undisputed preeminence which was enjoyed by his son twenty-four years later. No English candidate but Eadward was possible. And men had not yet learned, Godwine himself probably had not fully learned, how little worthy Eadward was to be called an English candidate.[22] And when in after years they learned the unhappy truth, still there does not seem to have been at any time the least thought of displacing Eadward in favour of either of his Scandinavian competitors, or even of calling in Swend to succeed him. In raising Eadward to the throne, Godwine acted simply as the mouthpiece of the English people. The opposition, as far as we can see, came wholly from the Danes of what we may call the second importation, those who had come into England with Cnut and Harthacnut. There is nothing to show that the old-settled Danish population of Northumberland acted apart from the rest of the country.

Claims of Eadward to the Crown; different statements of his right according to the political views of the writers.

Eadward then was King. He reigned, as every English King before him had reigned, by that union of popular election and royal descent which formed the essence of all ancient Teutonic kingship.[23] But it would seem that, even in those days, the two elements in his title, the two principles to whose union he and all other Kings owed their kingly rank, spoke with different degrees of force to different minds. Already, in the eleventh century, we may say that there were Whigs and Tories in England. At any rate there were men in whose eyes the choice of the people was the primary and legitimate source of kingship. There were also men who were inclined to rest the King’s claim to his Crown mainly on his descent from those who had been Kings before him. The difference is plainly shown in the different versions of the Chronicles. One contemporary winter, a devoted partisan of Godwine, grounds the King’s right solely on the popular choice—“All folk chose Eadward to King.” That the entry was made at the time is plain from the prayer which follows, “May he hold it while God grants it to him.”[24] Another version, the only one in any degree hostile to the great Earl, seems purposely to avoid the use of any word recognizing a distinct right of choice in the people. “All folk received Eadward to King, as was his right by birth.”[25] A third writer, distinctly, though less strongly, Godwinist, seems pointedly to combine both statements; “All folk chose Eadward, and received him to King, as was his right by birth.”[26] There can be no doubt that this last is the truest setting forth both of the law and of the facts of the case. The people chose Eadward, and without the choice of |Union of elective and hereditary right.| the people he would have had no right to reign. But they chose him because he was the one available descendant of the old kingly stock, because he was the one man at hand who enjoyed that preference by right of birth, which required that, in all ordinary cases, the choice of the electors should be confined to the descendants of former Kings. It might therefore be said with perfect truth that Eadward was chosen because the Kingdom was his by right |Eadward not next in succession according to modern notions.| of birth. But it must not be forgotten, what is absolutely necessary for the true understanding of the case, that this right by birth does not imply that Eadward would have been, according to modern ideas, the next in succession to the Crown. Eadward’s right by birth would have been no right by birth at all in the eyes of a modern lawyer. The younger son of Æthelred could, according to our present ideas, have no right to succeed while any representative of his elder brother survived. The heir, in our sense of the word, was not the Eadward who was close at hand in England or Normandy, but the Eadward who was far away in exile in Hungary or Russia. Modern writers constantly speak of this last Eadward and of his son Eadgar as the lawful heirs of the Confessor. On the contrary, according to modern notions, the Confessor was their lawful heir, and, according to modern notions, the Confessor must be pronounced to have usurped a throne |The right of the elder branch not thought of.| which of right belonged to his nephew. In his own time such subtleties were unknown. Any son of Æthelred, any descendant of the old stock, satisfied the sentiment of royal birth, which was all that was needed.[27] To search over the world for the son of an elder brother, while the younger brother was close at hand, was an idea which would never have entered the mind of any Englishman of the eleventh century.

Eadward crowned at Winchester, April 3, 1043.

The coronation ceremony probably followed soon after the meeting at Gillingham. It was performed on Easter Day at Winchester,[28] the usual place for an Easter Gemót, by Archbishop Eadsige, assisted by Ælfric of York and most of the other Prelates of England.[29] We are expressly |Exhortation of Eadsige; condition of the Kingdom.| told that the Metropolitan gave much good exhortation both to the newly made King and to his people.[30] The peculiar circumstances of the time might well suggest such a special admonition. There was a King, well nigh the last of his race, a King chosen by the distinct expression of the will of the people, as the representative of English nationality in opposition to foreign rule. But the King so chosen as the embodiment of English feeling was himself an Englishman in little more than in the accident of being born on English ground[31] as the son of a father who was a disgrace to the English name. There was a Kingdom to be guarded against foreign claimants, and there were the wounds inflicted by two unfortunate, though happily short, reigns to be healed at home. The duties which were laid upon the shoulders |Relations between Eadward and Godwine.| of the new King were neither few nor easy. He had indeed at hand the mightiest and wisest of guardians to help him in his task. But we can well understand that the feelings of Eadward towards the man to whom he owed his Crown were feelings of awe rather than of love. There could be little real sympathy between the stout Englishman and the nursling of the Norman court, between the chieftain great alike in battle and in council and the timid devotee who shrank from the toils and responsibilities of an earthly Kingdom. And we can well believe that, notwithstanding Godwine’s solemn acquittal, there still lingered in the mind of Eadward some prejudice against the man who had once been charged with his |Relations of the three great Earls.| brother’s death. And again, though it was to Godwine and his West-Saxons that Eadward mainly owed his Crown, yet Godwine and his West-Saxons did not make up the whole of England. Their counsels and interests had to be reconciled with the possibly opposing counsels and interests of the other Earldoms and of their rulers. Eadward could not afford to despise the strong arm of the mighty Dane who ruled his countrymen north of the Humber. He could not afford to despise the possible prejudices of the great Earl of central England, who, descendant of ancient Ealdormen, perhaps of ancient Kings, may well have looked with some degree of ill-will on the upstarts North and South of him. Eadward, called to the throne by the unanimous voice of the whole nation, was bound to be King of the English and not merely King of the West-Saxons. He was bound yet more strongly to be King of the English in a still higher sense, to cast off the trammels of his Norman education, and to reign as became the heir of Ælfred and Æthelstan. We have now to see how far the good exhortations of Eadsige were effectual; how far the King chosen to the Crown which was his right by birth discharged the duties which were laid upon him alike by his birth and by his election.

Foreign Ambassadors at Eadward’s coronation.

It was perhaps ominous of the character of Eadward’s future reign that his coronation was attended by an apparently unusual assemblage of the Ambassadors of foreign princes.[32] It was natural that Eadward should be better known, and that his election should awaken a greater interest, in other lands than could usually be the case with an English King. He was connected by birth or marriage with several continental sovereigns, and his long residence in Normandy must have brought him more nearly within |Eadward’s foreign connexions.| the circle of ordinary continental princeship than could commonly be the case with the Lord of the island Empire, the Cæsar as it were of another world. The revolutions of England also, and the great career of Cnut, had evidently fixed the attention of Europe on English affairs to an unusual degree. Add to this that, when a King was chosen and crowned immediately on the death of his predecessor, the presence of congratulatory embassies from other princes was hardly possible. But the delay in Eadward’s consecration allowed that great Easter-feast at Winchester to be adorned with the presence of the representatives of all the chief sovereigns of Western Christendom. Some there were whom England was, then as ever, bound to welcome as friends and brethren, and some whose presence, however friendly was the guise of the moment, might to an eye which could scan the future |Ambassadors from King Henry.| have seemed a foreboding of the evil to come. First came the ambassadors of the prince who at once held the highest place on earth and adorned it with the noblest display of every kingly virtue. King Henry of Germany, soon to appear before the world as the illustrious Emperor,[33] the great reformer of a corrupted Church, sent an embassy to congratulate his brother-in-law[34] on the happy change in his fortunes, to exchange promises of peace and friendship, and to present gifts such as Imperial splendour and liberality might deem worthy of the one prince whom |from the King of the French;| a future Emperor could look on as his peer.[35] The King of the French too, a prince bearing the same name as the mighty Frank,[36] but far indeed from being a partaker in his glory, sent his representatives to congratulate one whom he too claimed as a kinsman,[37] and to exchange pledges of mutual good-will between the two realms. |from other German and French princes;| And, along with the representatives of Imperial and royal majesty, came the humbler envoys of the chief Dukes and princes of their two kingdoms, charged with the like professions of friendship—our flattering historian would fain have us believe, of homage.[38] Among these we can hardly doubt that a mission from the Court of Rouen held a distinguished place. It may be that, even then, the keen eye of the youthful Norman was beginning to look with more than a neighbour’s interest upon the land to which he had in some sort given her newly-chosen King. We |from Magnus of Denmark.| are even told that an embassy of a still humbler kind was received from a potentate who soon after appeared on the stage in a widely different character. Magnus of Norway had received the submission of Denmark on the death of Harthacnut, by virtue of the treaty by which each of those princes was to succeed to the other’s dominions.[39] He now, we are told, sent an embassy to Eadward, chose him as his father,[40] promised to him the obedience of a son, and strengthened the promise with oaths and hostages. Now in the language used with regard both to Magnus and to the German and French princes, there is doubtless much of the exaggeration of a panegyrist, anxious to raise his hero’s reputation to the highest point. But it is possible that Magnus might just now take some pains to conciliate Eadward, in order to hinder English help from being continued to his competitor Swend. In the reception of the Imperial and the Danish envoys there is nothing which has any special meaning; but it is specially characteristic of this reign that the congratulations of the French princes |Eadward’s gifts to the French princes.| were acknowledged by gifts from the King personally, and that some of them were continued in the form of annual pensions.[41] These were undoubtedly, even if the Norman Duke himself was among the pensioners, the gifts of a superior to inferiors; the point is that the connexion between England and the different French states, Normandy above them all, was constantly increasing in amount, and receiving new shapes at every turn.

Gifts of the English nobles.

Besides the gifts of foreign princes, the new King also received many splendid presents from his own nobles. First among them all shone forth the magnificent offering |Godwine presents a ship to the King.| of the Earl of the West-Saxons.[42] Godwine had given a ship to Harthacnut as the price of his acquittal on his memorable trial;[43] he now made the like offering to Eadward as a token of the friendship which was to reign between the newly-chosen King and his greatest subject. Two hundred rowers impelled the floating castle. A golden lion adorned the stern; at the prow the national ensign, the West-Saxon Dragon, shone also in gold, spreading his wings, the poet tells us, over the awe-struck waves.[44] A rich piece of tapestry, wrought on a purple ground with the naval exploits of former English Kings,[45] the sea-fights, no doubt, of Ælfred, the peaceful triumphs of Eadgar, |[992.]| perhaps that noblest fight of all when the fleets of Denmark gave way before the sea-faring men of the merchant-city,[46] formed an appropriate adornment of the offering of the English Earl to the first—men did not then deem that he was to be the last—prince of the newly-restored English dynasty.

§ 2. Condition of England during the early years of Eadward.

Character of Eadward.

Before we go on to the events of the reign of Eadward, it will be well to endeavour to gain a distinct idea of the King himself and of the men who were to be the chief actors in English affairs during his reign. In estimating the character of Eadward, we must never forget that we |His position as a Saint.| are dealing with a canonized saint. In such cases it is more needful than ever to look closely to a man’s recorded acts, and to his character as described by those who wrote before his formal canonization. Otherwise we shall be in danger of mistaking hagiology for history. When a man is once canonized, his acts and character immediately pass out of the reach of ordinary criticism. Religious edification, and not historical truth, becomes the aim of all who speak or write of one who has been formally enrolled as an object of religious reverence.[47] We must also be on our guard even in dealing with authors who wrote before his formal canonization, but after that popular canonization which was so often the first step towards it. It was of course the general reverence in which a man was held, the general belief in his holiness and miraculous powers, which formed the grounds of the demand for his formal canonization. But, while we must be specially on our guard in weighing the character of particular acts and the value of particular panegyrics, we must remember that the popular esteem which thus led to canonization proves a great deal as to |Nature of his claims to sanctity.| a man’s general character. It proves still more when, as in the case of Eadward, there was no one special act, no one marked deed of Christian heroism or Christian endurance, which formed the holy man’s claim to popular reverence. Eadward was not like one of those who died for their faith or for their country, and who, on the strength of such death, were at once revered as martyrs, without much inquiry into their actions and characters in other respects. He was not even like one of those, his sainted uncle and namesake for instance,[48] who gained the honours of martyrdom on still easier terms, by simply dying an unjust death, even though no religious or political principle was at stake. The popular reverence in which Eadward was held could rest on no ground except the genuine popular estimate of his general character. There were indeed strong political reasons which attached men to his memory. He was the one prominent man of |Eadward’s memory acceptable both to Englishmen and to Normans on political grounds.| the days immediately before the Conquest whom Normans and Englishmen could agree to reverence. The English naturally cherished the memory of the last prince of the ancient stock. They dwelt on his real or supposed virtues as a bright contrast to the crimes and vices of his Norman successors. Under the yoke of foreign masters they looked back to the peace and happiness of the days of their native King. The King who reigned on the English throne without a spark of English feeling became the popular embodiment of English nationality, and men called for the Laws of King Eadward as in earlier times they had called for the Laws of Cnut or of Eadgar.[49] On the other hand, it suited the policy of the Normans to show all respect to the kinsman of their own Duke, the King by whose pretended bequest their Duke claimed the English Crown, and whose lawful successor he professed himself to be. In English eyes Eadward stood out in contrast to the invader William; in Norman eyes he stood out in contrast to the usurper Harold. A King whom two hostile races thus agreed in respecting could not fail to obtain both popular and formal canonization on somewhat easy |Popular reverence for him grounded also on personal qualities.| terms. Still he could hardly have obtained either the one or the other only on grounds like these. He must have displayed some personal qualities which really won him popular affection during life and maintained him in popular reverence after death. It is worth while to study a little more at length the character of a man who obtained in his own age a degree of respect which in our eyes seems justified neither by several of his particular actions nor by the general tenour of his government.

That Eadward was in any sense a great man, that he displayed any of the higher qualities of a ruler of those days, no one probably will assert. He was doubtless in some respects a better man than Cnut, than Harold, or than William; as a King of the eleventh century no one will venture to compare him with those three mighty ones. His wars were waged by deputy, and his civil government |Eadward’s personal character.| was carried on largely by deputy also. Of his many personal virtues, his earnest piety, his good intentions in every way, his sincere desire for the welfare of his people, there can be no doubt. Vice of every kind, injustice, wanton cruelty, were hateful to him. But in all kingly qualities he was utterly lacking. In fact, so far as a really good man can reproduce the character of a thoroughly bad one, Eadward reproduced the character of his father Æthelred. Writers who lived before his canonization, or who did not come within the magic halo of his sanctity, do not scruple to charge him, as his father is |Points of likeness to his father.| charged, with utter sloth and incapacity.[50] Like his father, he was quite incapable of any steady attention to the duties of royalty;[51] but, like his father, he had occasional fits of energy, which, like those of his father, often came at the wrong time.[52] His contemporary panegyrist allows that he gave way to occasional fits of wrath, but he pleads that his anger never hurried him into unbecoming language.[53] It hurried him however, more than once, into very unbecoming intentions. We shall find that, on two memorable occasions, it needed the intervention of his better genius, in the form first of Godwine and then of Harold, to keep back the saintly King from massacre and civil war.[54] Here we see the exact parallels to Æthelred’s mad expeditions against Normandy, Cumberland, and Saint David’s.[55] But Eadward was not only free from the personal vices and cruelties of his father; there can be no doubt that, except when carried away by ebullitions of this kind, he sincerely endeavoured, according to the measure of his ability, to establish a good administration of justice throughout his dominions. But the duties of secular government, although doubtless discharged conscientiously and to the best of his ability, were with Eadward always something which went against the |His virtues wholly monastic.| grain. His natural place was, not on the throne of England, but at the head of a Norman Abbey. Nothing, one would think, could have hindered him from entering on the religious life in the days of his exile, unless it were a vague kind of feeling that other duties were thrown upon him by his birth. For all his virtues were those of a monk; all the real man came out in his zeal for collecting relics, in his visions, in his religious exercises, in his gifts to churches and monasteries, in his desire to mark his reign, as its chief result, by the foundation of his great Abbey of Saint Peter at Westminster. In a prince of the manly piety of Ælfred things of this sort form only a part, a pleasing and harmonious part, of the general character. In Eadward they formed the whole man. His time was oddly divided between his prayers and the pastime which seems least suited to the character of |His love of hunting.| a saint. The devotion to the pleasures of the chase was so universal among the princes and nobles of that age that it is needless to speak of it as a feature in any man’s character, unless when some special circumstance forces it into special notice. We remark it in the two Williams, because it was their love of hunting which led them into their worst acts of oppression; we remark it in Eadward, because it seems so utterly incongruous with the other features of his character.[56] There were men even in those times who could feel pity for animal suffering and who |Contrast with the humanity of Anselm.| found no pleasure in the wanton infliction of pain. Tenderness for animals is no unusual feature in either the real or the legendary portraits of holy men. Anselm, the true saint, like Ceadda in earlier times, saved the life of the hunted beast which sought his protection, and made the incident the text of a religious exhortation to his companions. He saw a worthy object for prayer in the sufferings of a bird tortured by a thoughtless child, and his gentle heart found matter for pious rejoicing in the escape of the feathered captive.[57] Humanity like this met with very little response in the breast of the saintly monarch. The piercing cry, the look of mute agony, of the frightened, wearied, tortured beast awakened no more pity in the heart of the saintly King than in that of the rudest Danish Thegn who shared his savage pastime. The sufferings of the hart panting for the water-brooks, the pangs of the timid hare falling helpless into the jaws of her pursuers, the struggles of the helpless bird grasped in the talons of the resistless hawk, afforded as keen a delight to the prince who had never seen steel flash in earnest, as ever they did to men whom a life of constant warfare in a rude age had taught to look lightly on the sufferings and death even of their own kind.[58] Once, we are told, a churl, resisting, it well may be, some trespass of the King and his foreign courtiers on an Englishman’s freehold, put some hindrance in the way of the royal sport. An unsaintly oath and an unkingly threat at once rose to the lips of Eadward; “By God and his Mother, I will hurt you some day if I can.”[59] Had Anselm, in the might of his true holiness, thus crossed the path of his brother saint, he too, as the defender of the oppressed, might have become the object of a like outburst of impotent wrath. A delight in amusements of this kind is hardly a fair subject of blame in men of any age to whom the rights of the lower animals have perhaps never been presented as matter for serious thought. But in a man laying claim to special holiness, to special meekness and gentleness of character, we naturally look for a higher standard, a standard which a contemporary example shows not to have been unattainable even in that age.

Personal appearance and habits of Eadward.

In person Eadward is described as being handsome, of moderate height, his face full and rosy, his hair and beard white as snow.[60] His beard he wore long, according to what seems to have been the older fashion both of England and of Normandy.[61] Among his younger contemporaries this fashion went out of use in both countries, and the Normans shaved the whole face, while the English left the hair on the upper lip only. He was remarkable for the length and whiteness of his hands. When not excited by passion, he was gentle and affable to all men; he was liberal both to the poor and to his friends; but he had also the special art of giving a graceful refusal, so that the rejection of a suit by him was almost as pleasing as its acceptance by another.[62] In public he preserved his kingly dignity intact; but he took little pleasure in the pomp of royalty or in wearing the gorgeous robes which were wrought for him by the industry and affection of his Lady.[63] In private company, though he never forgot his rank, he could unbend, and treat his familiar friends as an equal.[64] He avoided however one bad habit of his age, that of choosing the time of divine service as the time for private conversation. It is mentioned as a special mark of his devotion that he scarcely ever spoke during mass, except when he was interrupted by others.[65] The |His favourites at different periods of his reign.| mention of his friends and familiar companions leads us directly to his best and worst aspects as an English King. Like his father, he was constantly under the dominion of favourites. It was to the evil choice of his favourites during the early part of his reign that most of the misfortunes of his time were owing, and that a still more direct path was opened for the ambition of his Norman kinsman. In the latter part of his reign either happy accident, or returning good sense, or perhaps the sheer necessity of the case, led him to a better choice. Without a guide he could not reign, but the good fortune of his later years gave him the wisest and noblest of all guides. The most honourable feature in the whole life of Eadward is that the last thirteen years of his reign were virtually the reign of Harold.

Eadward’s fondness for foreigners.

But in the days before that great national reaction, in the period embraced in the present Chapter, it is the peculiar character of the favourites to whose influence Eadward was given up which sets its special mark on the time. The reign of Eadward in many respects forestalls the reign of Henry the Third. The part played by Earl Godwine in many respects forestalls the part played |His connexion with Normandy.| by Earl Simon of Montfort. Eadward was by birth an Englishman; but he was the son of a Norman mother; he had been carried to Normandy in his childhood; he had there spent the days of his youth and early manhood; England might be the land of his duty, but Normandy was ever the land of his affection. With the habits, the feelings, the language, of the people over whom he was called to rule he had absolutely no sympathy. His heart was French. His delight was to surround himself with companions who came from the beloved land and who spoke the beloved tongue, to enrich them with English estates, to invest them with the highest offices of the English Kingdom. Policy might make him the political ally of his Imperial brother-in-law, but a personal sentiment made him the personal friend of his Norman cousin. The needs of his royal position made him accept Godwine as his counsellor and the daughter of Godwine as his |Promotion of Normans to high office.| wife. But his real affections were lavished on the Norman priests[66] and gentlemen who flocked to his Court as to the land of promise. These strangers were placed in important offices about the royal person,[67] and before long they were set to rule as Earls and Bishops over the already half-conquered soil of England. Even when he came over as a private man in the days of Harthacnut, Eadward had brought with him his French nephew,[68] and Ralph the Timid Earl was but the precursor of the gang of foreigners who were soon to be quartered upon the country, as these were again only the first instalment of the larger gang who were to win for themselves a more lasting |The Norman Conquest begins under Eadward.| settlement four and twenty years later. In all this the seeds of the Conquest were sowing, or rather, as I once before put it,[69] it is now that the Conquest actually begins. The reign of Eadward is a period of struggle between natives and foreigners for dominion in England. The foreigners gradually win the upper hand, and for a time they are actually dominant. Then a national reaction overthrows their influence, and the noblest of living Englishmen becomes the virtual ruler. But this happy change did not take place till the strangers had become accustomed to look on English estates and honours as their right, a right which they soon learned to think they might one day assert by force of arms. The foreign favourites of Eadward were in truth the advanced guard of William. The conquests of England by Swend and Cnut, the wonderful exploits of his own countrymen in the South of Europe, no doubt helped to suggest to the Norman Duke that it was not impossible to win England for himself with his sword. But it must have been the feeling, on the part both of himself and of his subjects, that England was a land already half won over to Norman rule, which made the succession to the English Crown the cherished aim of the life of the mighty ruler who was now growing up to manhood and to greatness on the other side of the sea.

Relations between Eadward and Godwine.

The elevation of Eadward to the throne of course involved the establishment in still greater honour and authority of the man to whom his elevation was mainly owing, the great Earl of the West-Saxons. I have already thrown out some hints as to what the real relations between |Norman calumnies against Godwine and his sons.| Eadward and Godwine probably were.[70] There is not a shadow of evidence for the calumnies of the Norman writers which represent Godwine and his sons as holding the King in a sort of bondage, as abusing his simplicity and confidence, sometimes as behaving to him with great personal insolence, sometimes, they even venture to add, practising all kinds of injustice and oppression throughout the Kingdom. The English writers tell a widely different tale. The contrast between the two accounts is well set forth by a writer whose sympathies lie wholly on the Norman side, but who makes at least an effort to deal fairly between the two. In the English version Godwine and his sons appear as high-minded and faithful counsellors of the King, who stood forward as the leaders of the national feeling against his foreign favourites, but who were never guilty of any undutiful word or deed towards the prince whom they had themselves raised to power.[71] Eadward probably both feared and suspected Godwine. But there is nothing to show that, up to the final outbreak between Godwine and the foreigners, the great Earl had ever deviated from even formal loyalty to his sovereign. There is distinct evidence that more than one of his sons had gained Eadward’s warmest personal affection. From |Character of Godwine.| all that we can see, Godwine was not a man likely to win the same sort of personal affection from Eadward, perhaps not even from the nation at large, which was afterwards won by Harold. That Godwine was the representative of all English feeling, that he was the leader of every national movement, that he was the object of the deepest admiration on the part of the men at least of his own Earldom, is proved by the clearest of evidence. But it is equally clear that Godwine was essentially a wary statesman, and in no sense a chivalrous hero. We have seen that, mighty as was the power of his eloquence, he did not trust to his eloquence only.[72] He knew how to practise the baser as well as the nobler arts of statesmanship. He knew how to win over political adversaries by bribes, threats, and promises, and how to find means of chastisement for those who remained to the last immoveable by the voice of the charmer. When we think of the vast extent of his possessions,[73] most or all of which must have been acquired by royal grant, it is almost impossible to acquit him of |His relation to ecclesiastical bodies.| a grasping disposition. It is also laid to his charge that, in the acquisition of wealth, he did not always regard the rights of ecclesiastical bodies.[74] This last charge, it must be remembered, is one which he shares with almost every powerful man of his time, even with those who, if they took with one hand, gave lavishly with the other. And accusations of this sort must always be taken with certain deductions. Monastic and other ecclesiastical writers were apt to make little or no distinction between acts of real sacrilege, committed by fraud or violence, and the most legal transactions by which the Church happened to be |Godwine’s lack of bounty to the Church.| a loser. Still it should be noticed that Godwine stands perhaps alone among the great men of his own age in having no ecclesiastical foundation connected with his name. As far as I am aware, he is nowhere enrolled among the founders or benefactors of any church, religious or secular.[75] Such a peculiarity is most remarkable. How far it may have arisen from enlightenment beyond his age, how far it was the result of mere illiberality or want of religious feeling, it is utterly impossible to say. But it is clear that Godwine is, in this respect, distinguished in a marked way from his son, whose liberality, guided as it was by a wise discretion, was conspicuous among his other great qualities. Again, it is hardly impossible to acquit Godwine of being, like most fathers who have the |Godwine’s over care for his own household.| opportunity, too anxious for the advancement of his own family. He promoted his sons, both worthy and unworthy, to the greatest offices in the Kingdom, at an age when they could have had but little personal claim to such high distinctions. In so doing, he seems to have overstepped the bounds of policy as well as those of fairness and good feeling. Such an accumulation of power in one family could not but raise envy, and higher feelings than envy, in the breasts of rivals, some of whom may have had as good or better claims to promotion. That Godwine sacrificed his daughter to a political object is a charge common to him with princes and statesmen in all ages. Few men in any time or place would have thrown away the opportunity of having a King for a son-in-law, and, as Godwine doubtless hoped, of becoming, at least in the female line, the ancestor of a line of princes.

Godwine’s government of his Earldom.

The faults of the great Earl then are manifest. But his virtues are equally manifest. In the eyes of contemporary Englishmen such faults as I have mentioned must have seemed little more than a few specks on a burnished mirror. His good government of his Earldom is witnessed, not only by the rhetoric of his panegyrist, which however may at least be set against the rhetoric of his accusers, but by the plain facts of the welcome which greeted him on his return from banishment, and the zeal |His strict administration of justice.| in his behalf displayed by all classes.[76] As a ruler, Godwine is especially praised for what in those days was looked on as the first virtue of a ruler, merciless severity towards all disturbers of the public peace. In our settled times we hardly understand how rigour, often barbarous rigour, against thieves and murderers, should have been looked on as the first merit of a governor, one which was always enough to cover a multitude of sins. Public feeling went along with the prince or magistrate who thus preserved the peace of his dominions, however great might be his own offences in other ways, and however cruel in our eyes might be the means by which he compassed this first end of government. To have discharged this great duty stands foremost in the panegyrics of Godwine and of Harold.[77] It was accepted at the hands of the Norman Conqueror as almost an equivalent for the horrors of the Conquest.[78] It won for his son Henry a splendid burst of admiration at the hands of a native writer who certainly was not blind to the oppression of which that prince himself was guilty.[79] A certain amount of tyranny was willingly endured at the hands of a man who so effectually rid the world of smaller tyrants. And, in opposition to the praise thus bestowed on Godwine, Harold, William, and Henry, we find the neglect of this paramount duty standing foremost in the dark indictments against the ruffian Rufus[80] and the heedless Robert.[81] Godwine is set forth to us, in set phrases, it may be, but in phrases which do not the less express the conviction of the country, as a ruler mild and affable to the good, but stern and merciless to the evil |Godwine never reached the same power as Harold afterwards.| and unruly.[82] But with all his vigour, all his eloquence, it is clear that Godwine never reached to the same complete dominion over King and Kingdom which, in later years, fell to the lot of his nobler son. He always remained an object of jealousy, not only to the French favourites of Eadward, but to the Earls of the other parts of England. We shall find that his eloquent tongue could not always command a majority in the Meeting of the Wise.[83] |Importance of eloquence.| But the importance attributed to his oratory, the fluctuations of success and defeat which he underwent in the great deliberative Assembly, show clearly how advanced our constitution already was in an age when free debate was so well understood, and when free speech was so powerful.[84] In this respect the Norman Conquest undoubtedly threw things back. We shall have to pass over several centuries before we come to another chief whose influence clearly rested to so great a degree on his power of swaying great assemblies of men, on the personal affection or personal awe with which he had learned to inspire the Legislature of his country.

Godwine’s family.

The marriage of Godwine with his Danish wife Gytha had given him a numerous and flourishing offspring. Six sons and three daughters surrounded the table of the Earl of the West-Saxons. In the names which several of them bore we may discern the influence of their Danish mother.[85] The sons of Godwin were Swegen,[86] Harold, Tostig, Gyrth, Leofwine, and Wulfnoth. His daughters were Eadgyth, Gunhild, and perhaps a third, Ælfgifu.[87] As twenty-three years had now passed since Godwine’s marriage, we may assume that all of them were already born, though some of the younger ones may still have been children. The elder sons had reached manhood, and we shall find two at least of them filling the rank of Earl during the period |Swegen Earl, 1043.| with which we are now dealing. Swegen, the eldest son, seems to have been invested with an Earldom from the very beginning of Eadward’s reign, as he signs a charter with that rank in the King’s second year.[88] Gytha’s |Beorn Earl, 1045?| nephew, Beorn, also remained in England, while his brother Osbeorn was banished, and while his other brother Swend was putting forth his claims to the Crown of Denmark. He had doubtless attached himself firmly to the interests of his uncle. He was also, probably at a somewhat later time, raised to an Earldom, apparently the Earldom of the Middle-Angles, lately held by Thored.[89] The Earldom held by Swegen was geographically most anomalous. It took in the Mercian shires of Hereford, Gloucester, and Oxford, and the West-Saxon shires of Berkshire and Somerset.[90]

First appearance of HAROLD the son of Godwine. [Earl of the East-Angles, 1045?]

But, along with the comparatively obscure names of Swegen and Beorn, a greater actor now steps upon the field. We have now reached the first appearance of the illustrious man round whom the main interest of this history will henceforth centre. The second son of Godwine lived to be the last of our native Kings, the hero and the martyr of our native freedom. We have indeed as yet to deal with him only in a subordinate capacity, and in some sort in a less honourable character. The few recorded actions of Harold, Earl of the East-Angles, could hardly have enabled men to look forward to the glorious career of Harold, Earl of the West-Saxons, and of Harold, King of the English. To his first great government, a trying elevation indeed for one in the full vigour of youth and passion, he was apparently raised about three years after the election of Eadward, when he himself could not have passed his twenty-fourth year. While still young, he experienced somewhat of the fluctuations of human affairs, and he seems to have learned wisdom by experience. Still there must have been in him from the beginning the germs of those great qualities which shone forth so conspicuously in his later career. |His character.| It is not hard to paint his portraiture, alike from his recorded actions, and from the elaborate descriptions of |Contemporary testimonies.| him which we possess from contemporary hands. The praises of the great Earl sound forth in the latest specimen of the native minstrelsy of Teutonic England. And they sound forth with a truer ring than the half conventional praises of the saintly monarch, whose greatest glory, after all, was that he had called Harold to the |Evidence of the Biographer.| government of his realm.[91] The biographer of Eadward, the panegyrist of Godwine, is indeed the common laureate of Godwine’s whole family; but it is not in the special interest of Harold that he writes. He sets forth the merits of Harold with no sparing hand; he approves of him as a ruler and he admires him as a man; but his own personal affection plainly clings more closely to the rival brother Tostig. His description of Harold is therefore the more trustworthy, and it fully agrees with the evidence of his recorded actions. Harold then, the second son of Godwine, is set before us as a man uniting every gift of mind and body which could attract to him the admiration and affection of the age in which he lived.[92] Tall in stature, beautiful in countenance, of a bodily strength whose memory still lives in the rude pictorial art of his time,[93] he was foremost alike in the active courage and in the passive endurance of the warrior. |His military genius.| In hunger and watchfulness, in the wearing labours of a campaign no less than in the passing excitement of the day of battle, he stood forth as the leader and the model of the English people.[94] Alike ready and vigorous in action, he knew when to strike and how to strike; he knew how to measure himself against enemies of every kind, and to adapt his tactics to every position in which the accidents of warfare might place him. He knew how to chase the light-armed Briton from fastness to fastness, how to charge, axe in hand, on the bristling lines of his Norwegian namesake, and how to bear up, hour after hour, against the repeated onslaughts of the Norman horsemen and the more terrible thundershower of the Norman arrows. It is plain that in him, no less than in his more successful, and therefore more famous, rival, we have to admire, not only the mere animal courage of the soldier, but that true skill of the leader of armies which would have placed both Harold and William high among the captains of any age.

Harold’s civil virtues.

But the son of Godwine, the heir of his greatness, was not merely a soldier, not merely a general. If he inherited from his father those military qualities which first drew on Godwine the notice alike of the English Ætheling[95] and of the Danish King, he inherited also that eloquence of speech, that wisdom in council, that knowledge of the laws of the land,[96] which made him the true leader and father of the English people. Great as Harold was in war, his character as a civil ruler is still more remarkable, still more worthy of admiration. One or two actions of his earlier life show indeed that the spirit of those days |His singular forbearance.| of violence had laid its hand even on him. But, from the time when he appears in his full maturity as the acknowledged chief of the English nation, the most prominent feature in his character is his singular gentleness and mercy. Never, either in warfare or in civil strife, do we find Harold bearing hardly upon an enemy. From the time of his advancement to the practical government of the Kingdom, there is not a single harsh or cruel action with which he can be charged. His policy was ever a policy of conciliation. His panegyrist indeed confines his readiness to forgive, his unwillingness to avenge, to his dealings with his own countrymen only.[97] But the same magnanimous spirit is shown in cases where his conduct was less capable of being guided by mere policy than in his dealings with Mercian rivals and with Northumbrian revolters. We see the same generous temper in his treatment of the conquered Princes of Wales and of the defeated invaders of Stamfordbridge. As a ruler, he is described as walking in the steps of his father, as the terror of evildoers |His championship of England against strangers.| and the rewarder of those who did well. Devoted, heart and soul, to the service of his country, he was no less loyal in personal attention and service to her wayward and half-foreign King.[98] Throughout his career he was the champion of the independence of England against the dominion of strangers. To keep the court of England free from the shoals of foreigners who came to fatten on English estates and honours, and to meet the same enemies in open arms upon the heights of Senlac, were only two different ways of discharging the great duty to which his whole energies were devoted. And yet no man was ever more free from narrow insular prejudices, from any unworthy |His foreign travels.| jealousy of foreigners as such. His own mind was enlarged and enriched by foreign travel, by the study of the politics and institutions of other nations on their own soil. He not only made the pilgrimage to Rome, a practice which the example of Cnut seems to have made fashionable among English nobles and prelates, but he went on a journey through various parts of Gaul, carefully examining into the condition of the country and the policy of its rulers, among whom we may be sure that the renowned Duke of Rouen was not forgotten.[99] And Harold was ever ready to welcome and to reward real merit in men of foreign birth. He did not scruple to confer high offices on strangers, and to call men of worth from foreign lands to help him in his most cherished undertakings. |Harold’s patronage of Germans as opposed to Frenchmen.| But, while the bounty of Eadward was squandered on Normans and Frenchmen, men utterly alien in language and feeling, it was the policy of Harold to strengthen the connexion of England with the continental nations nearest to us in blood and speech.[100] All the foreigners promoted by Harold, or in the days of his influence, were natives of those kindred Teutonic lands whose sons might still almost be looked upon as fellow-countrymen.

His personal character.

Such was Harold as a leader of Englishmen in war and in peace. As for his personal character, we can discern that in the received piety of the age he surpassed his |His alleged spoliation of monasteries.| father. The charge of invasion of the rights of ecclesiastical bodies is brought against him no less than against Godwine; but the instance which has brought most discredit upon his name can be easily shown to be a mere tissue of misconceptions and exaggerations.[101] But it is far |His friendship with Saint Wulfstan.| more certain that Harold was the intimate friend of the best and holiest man of his time. Wulfstan, the sainted Bishop of Worcester, was the object of his deepest affection and reverence; he would at any time go far out of his way for the benefit of his exhortations and prayers; and the Saint repaid his devotion by loyal and vigorous |His foundation of the College at Waltham. [1060–2.]| service in the day of need.[102] Of his liberality his great foundation at Waltham is an everlasting monument, and it is a monument not more of his liberality than of his wisdom. To the monastic orders Harold seems not to have been specially liberal;[103] his bounty took another and a better chosen direction. The foundation of a great secular College, in days when all the world seemed mad after monks, when King Eadward and Earl Leofric vied with each other in lavish gifts to religious houses at home and abroad, was in itself an act displaying no small vigour and independence of mind. The details too of the foundation were such as showed that the creation of Waltham was not the act of a moment of superstitious dread or of reckless bounty, but the deliberate deed of a man who felt the responsibilities of lofty rank and boundless wealth, and who earnestly sought the welfare of his Church and nation |His personal demeanour frank and open.| in all things. As to his personal demeanour, he was frank and open in his general bearing, to a degree which was sometimes thought to be prejudicial to his interests.[104] Yet he could on occasion dissemble and conceal his purpose, a gift which seems sometimes to have been misconstrued,[105] and which apparently led him to the one great error of his life. He appears not to have been wholly free from |Charges of rashness.| the common fault of noble and generous dispositions. The charge of occasional rashness was brought against him by others, and it is denied by his panegyrist in terms which seem to imply that the charge was not wholly groundless.[106] And we must add that, in his private life, he did not, at least in his early days, imitate either the monastic asceticism of the King or the stern domestic purity of his rival |His connexion with Eadgyth Swanneshals.| the Conqueror. The most pathetic incident connected with his name, tells us of a love of his early days, the days apparently of his East-Anglian government, unrecognized by the laws of the Church, but perhaps not wholly condemned by the standard of his own age, which shows, perhaps above every other tale in English history or legend, how much the love of woman can do and suffer.[107]

Harold Earl of the East-Angles, 1045; Earl of the West-Saxons, 1053; King, 1066.

Such was the man who, seemingly in the fourth year of Eadward, in the twenty-third or twenty-fourth of his own age, was invested with the rule of one of the great divisions of England; who, seven years later, became the virtual ruler of the Kingdom; who, at last, twenty-one years from his first elevation, received, alone among English Kings, the Crown of England as the free gift of her people, and, alone among English Kings, died, axe in hand, on her own soil, in the defence of England against foreign invaders. One prince alone in the later history of Europe rivals the peculiar glory which attaches to the name of Harold. For him we must seek in a distant age and in a distant land, but in a land connected with our own by a strangely abiding tie. English warriors, soldiers of Harold, chafing under the yoke of the Norman Conqueror, sought service at the court of the Eastern Cæsar, and there retained for ages their national tongue, their national weapon,[108] and the proud inheritance of their |Comparison of Harold with Constantine Palaiologos.| stainless loyalty. The memory of England and of Harold becomes thus strangely interwoven with the memory of the one prince of later times who died in a still nobler cause than that of the freedom of England. The King who died upon the hill of Senlac finds his only worthy peer in the Emperor who died before the Gate of Saint Rômanos. The champion of England against the Southern invader must own a nobler martyr still in the champion of the faith and liberty of Christendom against the misbelieving horde who have ever since defiled the fairest and most historic regions of the world. The blood of Harold and his faithful followers has indeed proved the most fertile seed of English freedom, and the warning signs of the times seem to tell us that the day is fast coming when the blood of Constantine shall no longer send up its cry for vengeance unheeded from the earth.

Character of Swegen.

The second son of Godwine was no doubt raised to greatness in the first instance mainly because he was a son of Godwine; but his great qualities gradually showed that the rank to which he was raised by his father’s favour was one which he was fully entitled to retain by his own merits. The earlier elevation of the great Earl’s eldest born was less fortunate. Swegen lived to show that he had a soul of real nobleness within him; but his crimes were great, he was cut off just as he was beginning to amend his ways, and he has left a dark and sad memory behind him. A youth, evidently of no common powers, but wayward, violent, and incapable of self-control, he was hurried first into a flagrant violation of the sentiment of the age, and next into a still fouler breach of the eternal laws of right. His end may well arouse our pity, but his life, as a whole, is a dark blot on the otherwise chequered escutcheon of the house of Godwine. It was clearly felt to be so; the panegyrist of the family never once brings himself to utter the |Of the Lady Eadgyth. 1045.| name of Swegen. Only one other child of Godwine calls for personal notice at this stage of our history. Eadgyth, his eldest daughter, became, nearly two years after Eadward’s coronation,[109] the willing or unwilling bride of the saintly monarch. She is described as being no less highly gifted among women than her brothers were among men; as lovely in person and adorned with every female accomplishment, as endowed with a learning and refinement unusual in her age, as in point of piety and liberality a fitting help-meet for Eadward himself.[110] But there are some strange inconsistencies in the facts which are recorded of her. Her zeal and piety did not hinder her from receiving rewards, perhaps, in plain words, from taking bribes. Undoubtedly this is a subject on which the feelings of past times differed widely from those of our own; but we are a little staggered when we find the saintly King and his pious Lady receiving money from religious houses to support claims which, if just, should have been supported for nothing, and, if unjust, should not have been supported at all.[111] But Eadgyth has been charged with far heavier offences than this. She |Suspicions of her loyalty to England.| seems to have become in some degree infected with her husband’s love of foreigners, perhaps even in some sort to have withdrawn her sympathies from the national cause. She has won the doubtful honour of having her name extolled by Norman flatterers as one whose heart was |Her alleged share in the murder of Gospatric.| rather Norman than English.[112] And all her reputation for gentleness and piety has not kept her from being branded in the pages of one of our best chroniclers as an accomplice in a base and treacherous murder.[113] Her character thus |Her relation to her husband.| becomes in some sort an ænigma, and her relation to her husband is not the least ænigmatical part of her position. One of Eadward’s claims to be looked on as a saint was the general belief, at least of the next generation, that the husband of the beautiful Eadgyth lived with her only |Eadward’s alleged chastity.| as a brother with a sister.[114] If this story be true, a more enlightened standard of morality can see no virtue, but rather a crime, in his conduct. We can see nothing to admire in a King who, in such a crisis of his country, himself well nigh the last of his race, and without any available member of the royal family to succeed him, shrank, from whatever motive, from the obvious duty of raising up |Evidence of the earliest writers.| direct heirs to his Crown. But it seems probable that this report is merely part of the legend of the saint and not part of the history of the King. His contemporary panegyrists undoubtedly praise Eadward’s chastity. But it is not necessary to construe their words as meaning more than might be asserted of Ælfred, of William, of Saint Lewis, or of Edward the First. The conjugal faith of all those great monarchs remained, as far as we know, unbroken; but not one of them thought it any part of his duty to observe continence towards his own wife. Still, from whatever cause, the marriage of Eadward and Eadgyth was undoubtedly childless; and the relations of the royal pair to each other in other respects are hardly more intelligible. Eadgyth is described as the partaker of all her husband’s good works, and as nursing him with the most affectionate care during his last illness.[115] Yet, at the moment of his reign when he could most freely exercise a will of his own, if he did not absolutely of his own accord banish her from his court, he consented, seemingly without any reluctance, to her removal from him by the enemies of her family and her country.[116] The anxiety of Eadward’s Norman favourites to separate Eadgyth from her husband is, after all, the most honourable record of her to be found among the singularly contradictory descriptions of her character and actions.

Greatness of Godwine and his house.

We thus find, within a few years after the accession of Eadward, the whole of the ancient Kingdoms of Wessex, Sussex, Kent, Essex, East-Anglia, and part of Mercia, under the government of Godwine, his two elder sons, and his nephew. His daughter meanwhile shared the throne of England with a King whom he had himself placed upon it. Such greatness could hardly be lasting. It rested wholly on Godwine’s own personal character and influence, for the fame of Harold was yet to be won. The |The other Earldoms;| part of Mercia which was not otherwise occupied remained, |Mercia under Leofric;| as before, in the hands of Leofric the son of Leofwine. This Earl and his famous wife Godgifu, the Lady Godiva of legend,[117] were chiefly celebrated for their boundless liberality to ecclesiastical foundations.[118] Worcester, Leominster, Evesham, Chester, Wenlock, Stow in Lindesey, and, above all, Coventry, were special objects of their bounty. They seem not to have been satisfied with mere grants of lands and privileges, but to have taken a special interest in the buildings and ornaments of the houses which they favoured. The minster of Coventry, rebuilt and raised to cathedral rank after their time, has utterly vanished from the earth, and recent changes have abolished even the titular position of the city as a see of a Bishop. But at Stow, the ancient Sidnacester, a place even then of infinitely less consideration than Coventry, portions of the church enriched by Leofric still remain.[119] Leofric, his son Ælfgar, his grandsons and his granddaughter, play an important part in the history of this period down to the complete establishment of the Norman power in |Relations between Leofric and Godwine.| England. It is clear that Leofric must have been more personally annoyed by the rise of Godwine and his house than any other of the great men of England. A race whom he could not fail to look down upon as upstarts hemmed him in on every side except towards the North. Later in the reign of Eadward, we shall find the rivalries and the reconciliations of the two houses of Godwine and Leofric forming a considerable portion of the history. But, while Leofric himself lived, he continued to play the part which we have already seen him playing,[120] that part of a mediator between two extreme parties, which was dictated to him by the geographical position of his Earldom.

Northumberland under Siward.

North of the Humber, the great Dane, Siward the Strong, still ruled over the Earldom which he had won by the murder of his wife’s uncle.[121] The manners of the Northumbrians were so savage, murders and hereditary deadly feuds were so rife among them, that it is quite possible that the slaughter of Eadwulf may, by a party at least, have been looked on as a praiseworthy act of vigour. Perhaps however, as we go on, we may discern signs that Siward and his house were not specially popular in Northumberland, and that men looked back with regret to the more regular line of their native Earls. At any rate, Siward remained for the rest of his days in undisturbed possession of both the Northumbrian governments, and along with these he seems to have held the Earldoms of Northampton and Huntingdon within the proper limits of Mercia.[122] He ruled, we are told, with great firmness and severity, labouring hard to bring his troublesome province into something like order.[123] Nor was he lacking in that bounty to the Church, which might seem specially needful as an atonement for the crime by which he rose to power.[124]

England not tending to separation but to union.

The mention of these great Earls suggests several considerations as to the constitutional and administrative systems of the time. It is quite a mistake to think, as often has been thought, that the position of these powerful viceroys at all proves that England was at this time tending to separation. It was in truth tending to closer union, and the position of the great Earls is really one of the |Comparison with Frankish history.| signs of that tendency. A mistaken parallel has sometimes been drawn between the condition of England under Eadward and the condition of France under the later Karlings. The transfer of the English sceptre to the house of Godwine is of course likened to the transfer of the French sceptre to the house of Hugh of Paris. But, if we are to look for a parallel in the history of Gaul, we shall find one, by no means exact but certainly the closer of the two, in the state of things under the later Merwings, and in the transfer of the Frankish sceptre to the Carolingian dynasty. The position of Godwine and Harold is, of the two, more akin to the position of Charles Martel and Pippin than it is to that of Hugh the Great and Hugh Capet. |Nature of the Earldom as affected by the Danish Conquest.| The Earls of Eadward’s reign were, as I have already explained,[125] not territorial princes, gradually withdrawing themselves from the authority of their nominal overlord, but great magistrates, wielding indeed a power well nigh royal within their several governments, but wielding it only by delegation from the common sovereign. The Danish Conquest, and the fearful slaughter of the ancient nobility in the wars of Swend and Cnut, had done much to break up the force of ancient local associations and the influence of the ancient local families. Many of these families, the East-Anglian Earls for instance, doubtless became extinct. From the accession of Cnut we find a new state of things. The rule of the old half-kingly families, holding an almost hereditary sway over whole kingdoms, and apparently with subordinate Ealdormen in each shire, gradually dies out. Cnut divided the Kingdom as he pleased, appointing Danes or Englishmen, and Englishmen of old or of new families, as he thought good. England was now divided among a few Earls, who were distinctly representatives of the King. In Northumberland and Mercia the claims of ancient princely families were to some extent regarded; in Wessex and East-Anglia not at all. The rank of Earl is now held by a very few persons, connected either with the royal family or with the men whose personal influence was great at the time.[126] The Earls of Eadward’s reign are always either his own kinsmen or else |Position of Northumberland.| kinsmen of Godwine or Leofric. Siward alone keeps his Earldom for life; but, while he lives, his influence hardly extends beyond his own province, and, after his death, Northumberland falls under the same law as the rest of the Kingdom. No doubt Northumberland still retained more of the character of a distinct state than any other part of England; still the forces of Northumberland march at the command of the King,[127] and the Northumbrian Earldom is at the disposal of the King and his Witan.[128] We do not however find the same signs of the constant immediate exercise of the royal power in Northumberland which we find in Wessex, Mercia, and East-Anglia. We have throughout this reign a series of writs |Evidence of the King’s writs.| addressed to the Bishops and Earls of those districts, which show that an Earl of one of those great Earldoms commonly acted as the local Earl of each shire in his province, with no subordinate Earl or Ealdorman under him. While such writs are exceedingly common in Wessex and East-Anglia, one such writ only exists addressed to a Northumbrian Earl, and that is in the days of Tostig.[129] In Siward’s days possibly the King’s writ hardly ran in Northumberland. Those addressed to the Earls of the house of Leofric are also rare. It is clear that the King’s power was more fully established under the Earls of Godwine’s family than elsewhere. No doubt the royal authority was formally the same in every part of the Kingdom, but the memories and traces of ancient independence in Northumberland and Northern Mercia made its practical exercise more difficult in those districts.

Further evidence of the writs as to a change in the condition of the Folkland.

The class of writs of which I have just spoken throw some light on constitutional questions in another way. They come in under Cnut,[130] and they become very common under Eadward, being found alongside of documents of the more ancient form. They are announcements which the King makes to the Bishop, Earl, Sheriff, Thegns, and others of some one shire, or sometimes to the Bishops, Earls, and Thegns of the whole Kingdom, which do not, like documents of the ancient form, bear the signatures of any Witan. They are the manifest prototypes of the royal writs of later times. They are, like the other documents, mostly grants of one kind or another; only they seem to proceed from the King’s personal authority, without any confirmation from a national Gemót. Now it is hardly possible that the mass of grants of this sort which are preserved can all of them have been grants out of the King’s private estate. And, if they are grants of folkland to be turned into bookland on whatever tenure, allodial or feudal, a very important question arises. If the King could make such grants by his own authority, a change must have taken place in the ideas entertained as to folkland. In short, the change which was completed after the Conquest[131] must have already been in progress. The Folkland must have been beginning to be looked on as Terra Regis. In short, strictly feudal ideas were gradually coming in on this as on other matters. And doubtless, in this respect, as in others, the Danish Conquest did much to prepare the way for the |General powers of the Witan not lessened.| Norman. But, if the Witenagemót insensibly lost its authority in a matter in which we may well believe that its voice had long been nearly formal, it retained its general powers undiminished. It still, as of old, elected Kings, outlawed Earls, discussed and determined the foreign relations of the Kingdom. The fame of Eadward as a lawgiver is mythical; but the fame of government carried on in strict conformity to the laws and constitution of the country, is one which fairly belongs to him, or rather to the illustrious men by whom his power was practically wielded.

Scotland under Macbeth.

I have now to end this sketch by a brief view of the condition of the subordinate Kingdoms and of the relations of England to foreign countries. Scotland was now ruled by the famous Macbeth. He had, as Maarmor or under-King of Moray, done homage to Cnut[132] along with his |Reign and death of Duncan. 1040.| superior Malcolm. Duncan, the youthful grandson of Malcolm, unsuccessful, as we have seen, in his invasion of England,[133] was equally so in his warfare with the Northmen of Orkney.[134] Soon after this last failure, he was murdered by his own subjects, Macbeth being at least the prime mover in the deed.[135] The murdered prince had married a kinswoman of the Earl of the Northumbrians,[136] by whom he left two infant sons, Malcolm, afterwards famous as Malcolm Canmore, and Donald Bane. But the |Reign of Macbeth. 1040–1058.| Crown was assumed by Macbeth, on some claim, it would seem, of hereditary right, either in himself or in his wife Gruach.[137] Macbeth, and still more Gruach, have been so immortalized in legend that it is not easy to recall them to their true historical personality. But, from what little can be recovered about them, they certainly seem not to have been so black as they are painted. The crime of Macbeth against Duncan is undoubted; but it was, to say the least, no baser than the crime of Siward against Eadwulf; and Macbeth, like Siward, ruled well and vigorously the dominion which he had won by crime. All genuine Scottish tradition points to the reign of Macbeth as a period of unusual peace and prosperity in that disturbed |Macbeth distributes money at Rome. 1050.| land.[138] Macbeth and Gruach were also bountiful to churches in their own land, and Macbeth’s munificence to certain unknown persons at Rome was thought worthy of record by chroniclers beyond the bounds of Scotland.[139] One hardly knows whether this was merely by way of alms, like the gifts of Cnut, and it seems uncertain whether Macbeth, like Cnut and Harold, personally made the Roman pilgrimage.[140] The words however in which the gifts of Macbeth are spoken of might almost imply that his bounty had a political object. It is possible that, even at this early time, the Scottish King may have thought it desirable to get the Roman Court on his side, and he may have found, like later princes and prelates, that a liberal distribution of money was the best way of winning the favour of the Apostolic See. The high character of the reigning Pontiff, Leo the Ninth, puts him personally above all suspicion of unlawful gain; but then, as afterwards, subordinates were probably less scrupulous. The few notices which we find of Scottish affairs during the early years of Eadward might suggest that Macbeth felt his position precarious with regard to his English overlord. He had done homage to Cnut, but there is no record of his having renewed it to Eadward. There is however no sign of open enmity for many years.

Gruffydd of North Wales. 1039–1063.

In Wales a remarkable power was growing up, which will often call for notice throughout the whole of the reign of Eadward. The year before the death of Harold, Gruffydd the son of Llywelyn became King of Gwynedd or North Wales, a description which now begins to be used in its modern sense. He ruled with great vigour and ability. He gradually extended his dominion over the whole of Wales, not scrupling to avail himself of Saxon help against enemies of his own race. On the other hand, he more than once, sometimes alone, sometimes in concert with English traitors, proved himself a really formidable enemy to England. He was the last prince under whom any portion of the Welsh nation played a really important part in the history of Britain. He was, for Wales in the narrower sense, pretty well what Cadwalla had been, ages before, for Strathclyde.[141] In the |633.| very first year of his reign, he made an inroad into Mercia, |His victory at Rhyd-y-Groes. 1039.| which has been already spoken of.[142] He penetrated as far as Rhyd-y-Groes, near Upton-on-Severn, a spot still retaining its British name,[143] and there he fought the battle in which Eadwine, the brother of Earl Leofric, was killed. |His wars in South Wales.| At the time of Eadward’s accession he was busily engaged in various conflicts with the princes of South Wales, who did not scruple to call in the help of the heathen Danes of Ireland against him.[144] In the year of |1042.| Eadward’s election, he had just won a great victory over a combined host of this kind at Aberteifi or Cardigan.[145]

Eadward’s friendly relations with foreign powers.

The relations of King Eadward to foreign powers were, for the most part, friendly. With Normandy and other French states they were, as we have seen and shall see, only too friendly. But this was a time of growing intercourse, not with France only, but with Continental nations generally. Pilgrimages to Rome, and other foreign journeys and embassies, were becoming far more usual than before among eminent Englishmen, both clergy and laity. Earl Harold’s travels, undertaken in order to study the condition and resources of foreign countries on |Connexion with Germany.| the spot, form a memorable example.[146] The connexion between England and Germany was now very close; the great Emperor Henry the Third sedulously sought the friendship of his English brother-in-law; and there is, as we have seen, little doubt that the German connexion was cultivated by the patriotic party as a counterpoise to the French tendencies of the King.[147] The promotion of German churchmen began early in Eadward’s reign, when it could hardly have taken place except with the sanction of Godwine. The only danger that seemed to threaten |Relations with the North; claims of Magnus.| lay in the North. Magnus of Norway conceived himself to have acquired, by virtue of his agreement with Harthacnut, a claim on the Crown of England;[148] but his wars with Swend hindered him from putting it forward for some years to come.

The reign of Eadward comparatively peaceful.

The reign of Eadward was, on the whole, a reign of peace. His admirers use somewhat exaggerated language on the subject,[149] as his reign was certainly more disturbed than those of either Eadgar or Cnut. Still, compared with most periods of the same length in those troubled times, the twenty-four years of Eadward form a period of unusual tranquillity. Foreign war, strictly so called, there was none. England was threatened by Norway, and she herself interfered in the affairs of Flanders; but no actual fighting seems to have taken place on either occasion. Within the island matters were somewhat less quiet. Scotland was successfully invaded, and the old royal line restored. A few incursions of Scandinavian pirates are recorded, and Gruffydd of Wales remained for many years a thorn in the side of his English neighbours. But the main interest of this reign gathers round domestic affairs, round the revolts, the banishments, and the reconciliations of the great Earls, and, still more, round that great national movement against French influence in Church and State, of which Godwine and his family were the representatives and leaders.

§ 3. From the Coronation of Eadward to the Remission of the War-Tax. 1043–1051.

Character of the years 1043–1051.

This first period of the reign of Eadward is not marked by any very striking events till we draw near to its close. At home we have to mark the gradual expulsion, already spoken of, of those who had been conspicuous in opposing Eadward’s election, and, what is of far more importance, the gradually increasing influence of the foreign favourites. This is most easily traced in the disposition of ecclesiastical preferments. The foreign relations of England at this time lay mainly with the kingdoms of the North, where the contending princes had not yet wholly bidden farewell to the hope of uniting all the crowns of the Great Cnut on a single brow. But the relations between England and the Empire were also of importance, and the affairs of Flanders under its celebrated Count Baldwin the Fifth form a connecting link between those of England, Germany, and Scandinavia. The usual border warfare with Wales continues; with the renowned usurper of Scotland there was most likely a sort of armed truce. These various streams of events seem for some years to flow, as it were, side by side, without commingling in any marked way. But towards the end of our period they all in a manner unite in the tale of crime and misfortune which led to the disgrace and downfall of the eldest son of Godwine, but which thereby paved the way for the elevation of the second.

Relations between Eadward and his mother.

The first act of the new King was one which was perhaps neither unjust nor impolitic, but which, at first sight, seems strangely incongruous with his character for sanctity and gentleness. With all his fondness for Normans, there was one person of Norman birth for whom he felt little love, and to whom indeed he seems to have owed but little gratitude. This was no other than his own mother. It is not very easy to understand the exact relations between Emma and her son. We are told that she had been very hard upon him, and that she had done less for him than he would—contributed too little, it would seem, from her accumulated hoards—both before he became King and since.[150] Now it is not clear what opportunities Emma had had of being hard upon her son since the days of his childhood. During the greater part of their joint lives, Eadward had been an exile in Normandy, while Emma had shared the throne of England as the wife of Cnut. Her fault must rather have been neglect to do anything for his interests, refusal, it may be, to give anything of her wealth for the relief of his comparative poverty, rather than any actual hardships which she could have inflicted on him. She had, as we have seen, altogether thrown in her lot with her second husband, and had seemingly wished her first marriage to be wholly forgotten.[151] But there seems not to be the slightest ground for the scandal which represented her as having acted in any way a hostile part to her sons after the death of Cnut.[152] All the more probable versions of the death of Ælfred represent her as distinctly favourable to his enterprise.[153] She had herself suffered spoliation and exile in the days of Harold;[154] she had returned with Harthacnut, and, in his days, she seems almost to have been looked on as a sharer in the royal authority.[155] That authority she had at least not used to keep back her favourite son from the recall of his banished half-brother. It is not wonderful if, under these circumstances, there was little love between mother and son. Still there does not, up to the death of Harthacnut, seem to have been any unpardonable offence |Probable offence of Emma.| committed on the part of Emma. But the charge that she had done less for Eadward than he would, since he came to the Crown, seems to have a more definite meaning. It doubtless means that she had refused to contribute of her treasures to the lawful needs of the State. It may also mean that she had been, to say the least, not specially zealous in supporting Eadward’s claims to the Crown. She is described as dwelling at Winchester in the possession, not only of great landed possessions, the morning-gifts of her two marriages, but of immense hoarded wealth of every kind.[156] Harthacnut had doubtless restored, and probably increased, all that had been taken from her by Harold. Of her mode of employing her wealth we find different accounts; putting the two statements together, we may perhaps infer that she was bountiful to churches and monasteries, but niggardly to the poor.[157] But neither this bounty nor this niggardliness was a legal crime, and it is clear that some more definite offence must have lurked behind. Her treasures, or part of them, may have been gained by illegal grants from Harthacnut; it is almost certain, from the language of our authorities, that they had been illegally refused to the public service. But what happened seems to imply some still deeper offence. |Witenagemót of Gloucester. November, 1043.| The conduct of Emma became the subject of debate in a meeting of the Witan; her punishment was the result of a decree of that body, and all that was done to her was done with the active approval of the three great Earls, Godwine, Leofric, and Siward.[158] In the month of November after Eadward’s coronation, a Gemót—perhaps a forestalling of the usual Midwinter Gemót—was held at Gloucester. That town seems now to take the place which was held by Oxford a little earlier[159] as the scene of courts and councils.[160] It became during this reign, what it remained during the reign of the Conqueror, the place where the King wore his Crown at the Christmas festival, as he wore it at Winchester at Easter. It was convenient for such purposes as lying near at once to the borders of two of the great Earldoms. It lay also near to the borders of the dangerous Welsh, whose motions, under princes like the two Gruffydds, it was doubtless often expedient to watch with the whole wisdom and the whole force of the realm. The result of the deliberations of the Wise Men was that the King in person, accompanied by the |Eadward and the Earls despoil Emma of her treasures. November 16, 1043.| three great Earls,[161] rode from Gloucester to Winchester, came unawares[162] upon the Lady, occupied her lands,[163] and seized all that she had in gold, silver, jewels, and precious stones. They left her, however, we are told, enough for her maintenance, and bade her live quietly at Winchester.[164] She now sinks into utter insignificance for the remainder of her days.[165]

Now the last order, to live quietly at Winchester, seems to imply some scheme or intrigue on the part of Emma more serious than even an illegal refusal to contribute of her wealth to the exigencies of the State. Is it possible that she had been one of the opponents of her son’s election? A woman who had so completely transferred her affection to her second husband and his children, even though she had no hand in actual conspiracies against the offspring of her first marriage, may conceivably have preferred the nephew of Cnut to her own son by Æthelred. If so, her punishment was only the first act of a sort of persecution which during the next three or four years seems to have fallen upon all who had supported the claims of Swend to the Crown. The whole party became marked men, and were gradually sent out of the Kingdom as occasion served.[166] A few of their names may probably be recovered. We have records of several cases of banishment and confiscation during the early years of Eadward, which are doubtless those of the partisans of Eadward’s Danish opponent. First and foremost was a brother of Swend himself, Osbeorn, who, like his brother Beorn, seems to have |Banishments of Swend’s partisans. 1043–1046.| held the rank of Earl in England. The brothers must have taken different sides in the politics of the time, as Osbeorn was banished, while Beorn retained his Earldom.[167] The banishment of Osbeorn did not stand alone. The great |1046.| Danish Thegn Osgod Clapa was banished a few years later,[168] and it was probably on the same account that Æthelstan the son of Tofig lost his estate at Waltham,[169] |1044.| and that Gunhild, the niece of Cnut and daughter of Wyrtgeorn, was banished together with her two sons Heming and Thurkill.[170] She was then a widow for the second time through the death of her husband Earl Harold.[171] He had gone on a pilgrimage to Rome, and was on his way back to Denmark, when he was treacherously murdered by Ordulf, the brother-in-law of Magnus of Norway.[172] That Harold was bound for Denmark, and not for England, where his wife and children or stepchildren were, may perhaps tend to show that he was already an exile from England. It is not impossible that Godescalc the Wend ought to be added to the list.[173]

Whether the fall of Emma was or was not connected with the penalties which thus fell on the relics of the Danish party, it certainly carried with it the momentary |Stigand, appointed Bishop of Elmham, and deposed. April-November, 1043.| fall of one eminent Englishman. The disgrace of the Lady was accompanied by the disgrace of the remarkable—we might almost say the great—churchman by whose counsels she was said to be governed. We have already seen Stigand, once the Priest of Assandun,[174] appointed to a Bishoprick and almost immediately deprived of it.[175] The like fate now happened to him a second time. He was, it would seem, still unconsecrated;[176] but, seemingly about the time of Eadward’s coronation, he was named and consecrated to the East-Anglian Bishoprick of Elmham.[177] But the spoliation of Emma was accompanied by the deposition of Stigand from the dignity to which he had just been raised. He was deprived of his Bishoprick, and his goods were seized into the King’s hands, evidently by a sentence of the same Gemót which decreed the proceedings against the Lady. Whatever Emma’s fault was, Stigand was held to be a sharer in it. The ground assigned for his deposition was that he had been partaker of the counsels of the Lady, and that she had acted in all things by his advice.[178] That Stigand should have supported the claims of Swend is in itself not improbable. He had risen wholly by the favour of Cnut, his wife, and his sons. The strange thing is that so wary a statesman should not have seen how irresistibly the tide was setting in favour of Eadward. One thing is certain, that, if Stigand mistook his interest this time, he knew how in the long run to recover his lost place and to rise to places far higher.

Importance of ecclesiastical appointments at this time.

During the whole of this period ecclesiastical appointments claim special notice. They are at all times important witnesses to the state of things at any particular moment, and in a period of this kind they are the best indications of the direction in which popular and royal favour is setting. The patrons or electors of an ecclesiastical office can choose far more freely, they can set themselves much more free from the control of local and family influences, than those who are called on to appoint to temporal offices. For King Eadward to appoint a French Earl would prove much more than his appointment of a French Bishop. It would prove much more as to his own inclinations; it would prove much more again as to the temper of the people by whom such an appointment was endured. To appoint a French or German Earl as the successor of Godwine or Leofric would doubtless have been impossible. But Eadward found means to fill the sees of Canterbury, London, and Dorchester with French Prelates. In those matters he had a freer choice, because, in the case of an ecclesiastical office, no hereditary claim or preference could possibly be put forward. The same freedom of choice still remains to the dispensers of church patronage in our own times. The Lord Lieutenant, the Sheriff, the ordinary magistrates, of any county are necessarily chosen from among men belonging to that county. But the Bishop, the Dean, the ordinary clergy, may never have set foot in the diocese till they are called on to exercise their functions within it. Then, as now, various influences limited the choice of temporal functionaries which did not limit the choice of spiritual functionaries. It is therefore of special moment to mark the course of ecclesiastical appointments at this time, as supplying our best means of tracing the growth of the foreign influence and the course of the resistance made to it.

Mode of appointing Bishops.

It is not very clear what the exact process of appointing a Bishop at this time was. It is clear that the royal will was the chief power in the appointment. It is clear that the official document which gave the Bishop-elect a claim to consecration was a royal writ, to which now, under the French influences of Eadward’s court, a royal seal, in imitation of continental practice, was beginning to be attached.[179] It is also clear that the appointment was regularly made in full Witenagemót.[180] This of course implies that the Witan had at least the formal right of saying Yea or Nay to the King’s nomination. But we hear at the same time of capitular elections,[181] which clearly were not a mere form, though it rested with the King to accept or reject the selected candidate. No doubt some process was in use, in which the Chapter, the Witan, and the King all took their parts,[182] but in ordinary speech the appointment is always said to rest with the King, who is constantly described as giving a Bishoprick to such and such a man. The King too at this time exercised the right, which afterwards became the subject of so much controversy, of investing the Bishop-elect with the ring and staff.[183] It is clear also, from the case of Stigand just recorded, that the King and his Witan had full power of |Increased connexion with Rome.| deposing a Bishop. On the other hand, probably owing to the number of foreign ecclesiastics now in the Kingdom, references to the Court of Rome become from this time far more frequent. For an Archbishop to go to Rome for his pallium was nothing new; but now we hear of Bishops going to Rome for consecration or confirmation, and of the Roman Court claiming at least a veto on the nomination of the English King.[184]

Prevalence of simony.

It is perhaps more startling to find that the court of Saint Eadward was no more free from the suspicion of simony than the courts of ruffians like Harold and Harthacnut.[185] It is clear however that it was neither on the King personally nor on the Earl of the West-Saxons that this disgraceful imputation rested. One can hardly help suspecting that it was the itching palms of the King’s foreign favourites which proved the most frequent resting-place for the gold of those who sought for ecclesiastical dignities by corrupt means. In the year after Eadward’s coronation we meet with a story which brings out all |Siward appointed coadjutor to Archbishop Eadsige. 1044.| these points very strongly. Archbishop Eadsige found himself incapacitated by illness from discharging his functions, and wished either to resign his see or, as it would rather seem, to appoint a coadjutor. But he feared lest, if his intentions were made publicly known, some man whom he did not approve of might beg or buy the office.[186] He therefore took into his counsels none but the two first men in the realm, Earl Godwine and King Eadward himself. Godwine would naturally be glad of the opportunity to put some check on the growing foreign influences, and Eadward, easily as he was led astray, would doubtless be anxious, when the case was fairly placed before him, to follow any course which tended to preserve the purity of ecclesiastical rule. By the authority then of Eadward and Godwine, but with the knowledge of very few other persons,[187] Siward, Abbot of Abingdon, was consecrated as Coadjutor-Archbishop.[188] He acted on behalf of the Primate |He returns to Abingdon and dies. 1048–50.| for about six years, till illness caused him in his turn to resign his office and return to Abingdon, where he died.[189] On this Eadsige again assumed the administration of the Archbishoprick,[190] for a short time before his own death.

Death of Bishop Ælfweard of London. July 25, 1044.

But a more memorable appointment was made in the course of the same year. Ælfweard, Bishop of London and Abbot of Evesham, a Prelate whose name has already occurred in our history,[191] fell sick of leprosy. He returned to his Abbey, but the brotherhood with one consent refused him admission. They met, we are told, with the just reward of their churlishness. Ælfweard turned away to the distant Abbey of Ramsey, where he had spent his early years, and where he was gladly received. He soon after died, leaving great gifts to the hospitable monks of Ramsey.[192] Rumour however added that they largely consisted of his own former gifts to Evesham, and that he even did not scruple to remove from that undutiful house some precious things which had been the gifts of other benefactors.[193] Two great spiritual preferments were thus vacated, one of them, the see of London, one of the most important in the Kingdom. The lesser office at Evesham was conferred on an Englishman, Wulfmær or Mannig, a monk of the house;[194] but in the nomination to the great East-Saxon Bishoprick, the foreigners obtained one of their |He is succeeded by Robert of Jumièges. August 10?| most memorable triumphs. In a full Witenagemót, holden in London in the month of August, the Bishoprick of the city in which the Assembly was held was bestowed on one Robert, a Norman monk, who had first been Prior of Saint Ouen’s at Rouen, and afterwards Abbot of the great house of Jumièges.[195] He has there left behind him a noble memorial in the stately minster which still survives in ruins, |Baneful influence of Robert.| but in England it is not too much to say, that he became, in this high post and in the still higher post which he afterwards reached, the pest of the Kingdom. His influence over the mind of the feeble King was unbounded.[196] We are ludicrously told that, if Robert said that a black crow was white, King Eadward would at once believe him.[197] He is described at all hands as being the chief stirrer up of strife between Eadward and his native subjects. He it was who separated the husband from the wife, and |His calumnies against Godwine.| the King from his most faithful counsellors. He it was whose slanderous tongue again brought up against the great Earl[198] that charge of complicity in the death of Ælfred of which he had been solemnly pronounced guiltless by the |His connexion with the Norman invasion.| highest Court in the realm.[199] And the career of Robert is one of great historical importance. It is closely connected with the immediate causes—it may even be reckoned among the immediate causes—of the Norman invasion.[200] Robert’s appointment to the see of London may be fairly set down as marking a distinct stage in the progress of Norman influence in England. He was the first man of utterly alien speech who had held an English Bishoprick since the days of Roman, Scottish, or Cilician missionaries. |[1052.]| His overthrow at a later time was one of the first-fruits of the great national reaction against the strangers, and its supposed uncanonical character was one of the many pretences put forth by William to justify his invasion of England.

This appointment of Robert shows the great advance of the Norman influence. But it had not as yet reached its height. Godwine and the popular party seem to have been able to make a kind of compromise with the King. It was necessary to yield to the King’s strong personal inclination in the case of Robert; but the other vacant preferments were secured for Englishmen. We have seen that Ælfweard’s Abbey was not allowed to be held in plurality by his successor in the Bishoprick, but was bestowed |Stigand Bishop of Elmham.| on an Englishman of high character. Stigand too had by this time made his peace with Eadward and Godwine, and now began to climb the ladder of preferment afresh. He now again received the Bishoprick of |Banishment of Gunhild and her sons.| Elmham or of the East-Angles.[201] And it was in the same year, and seemingly at the same Gemót, that Gunhild, “the noble wife,” the widow of the Earls Hakon and Harold, the mother of Heming and Thurkill, was banished together with her sons.[202]

This last event was one of that series of banishments which have been already spoken of as gradually falling on all who had made themselves in any way prominent in opposition to the election of Eadward. But it was most likely not unconnected with the present threatening state |Condition of Northern Europe.| of affairs in Northern Europe. The early years of Eadward in England were contemporary with the great struggle between Swend and Magnus for the Crown of Denmark. |War of Swend and Magnus. 1044–1047.| The details of that warfare are told in our Scandinavian authorities with the usual amount of confusion and contradiction, and it seems hopeless to think of altogether reconciling their conflicting statements. Our own Chronicles, as usual, supply the most promising means of harmonizing them in some small degree. We have seen that Magnus was in actual possession of both Norway and Denmark at the time of Eadward’s coronation.[203] Swend, after several battles, had found himself forsaken |Connexion of Godescalc with Swend and Magnus.| by every one, and had taken refuge in Sweden.[204] Godescalc the Wend, who had accompanied him from England, had forsaken him with the rest,[205] and had entered on that mingled career as missionary and warrior among his heathen countrymen of which I have already spoken.[206] In this warfare he most likely acted as an ally of Magnus, who was also renowned for victories over the same enemy.[207] |Triumphant position of Magnus.| Magnus, now at the height of his power, King of Denmark and Norway, conqueror of his heathen neighbours, enjoying, as it would seem, the respect and attachment of the people of both his Kingdoms, regretted and retracted the engagements of fidelity, perhaps even of submission, which he had made to Eadward when his own |He claims the English Crown. 1045.| position seemed less secure. He now fell back on the claim by virtue of which he had possessed himself of Denmark, and which, in his eyes, gave him an equal right to the possession of England. Magnus sent an embassy to England, claiming the Crown, and setting forth his right.[208] He and Harthacnut had agreed that whichever of them outlived the other should succeed to his dominions. Harthacnut was dead; Magnus had, by virtue of that agreement, succeeded to the Crown of Denmark; he now demanded Harthacnut’s other Kingdom of England. |Eadward’s answer.| Eadward, we are told, answered in a magnanimous strain, in which he directly rested his right to the English Crown on the choice of the English people.[209] While his brother lived, he had served him faithfully as a private man, and had put forward no claim by virtue of his birth. On his brother’s death, he had been chosen King by the whole nation and solemnly consecrated to the kingly office. Lawful King of the English, he would never lay aside the Crown which his fathers had worn before him. Let Magnus come; he would raise no army against him, but Magnus should never mount the throne of England till he had taken the life of Eadward.[210] Magnus, so the Norwegian Saga tells us, was so struck with this answer, that he gave up all thoughts of attacking England, and acknowledged Eadward’s right to the English Crown. This account, as perhaps Eadward’s answer also, savours somewhat of romance. But that Magnus did contemplate an invasion of England is certain, and, as England had given him no cause for war, an invasion of England would seem to imply a |Preparations against Magnus. 1044–5.| claim on the English Crown. The Norwegian King was looked on as dangerous in the year after Eadward’s coronation, and in the next year he was kept back from an invasion of England only by a renewal of the war in the North. In both these years Eadward found it necessary to gather a fleet together at Sandwich.[211] In the first year the fleet amounted to thirty-five ships only; in the second year we are told that it was a fleet such as no man had ever seen before.[212] In this last case we are distinctly told that its object was to repel an expected invasion on the part of Magnus.

The war renewed by Swend in partnership with Harold Hardrada.

The war was now renewed by Swend, seemingly in partnership with an actor of greater, though perhaps less |Early life and exploits of Harold. 1030–1044.| merited, renown than himself.[213] Harold the son of Sigurd, the half-brother of Saint Olaf, had escaped as a stripling from the field of Stikkelstad, where his brother, according to one view, received the crown of martyrdom, while, according to another, he received only the just reward of hasty and violent, however well-meant, interference with the ancient institutions of his country. Harold, surnamed Hardrada—the stern in council—lived to become the most renowned warrior of the North, the last Scandinavian King who ever set foot as an enemy on purely English ground, the last invader who was to feel the might of Englishmen fighting on their own soil for their own freedom, and who was, in his fall, to pave the way for the victory of an invader yet mightier than himself. The fight of Stamfordbridge, the fight of the two Harolds, will form one of the most striking scenes in a later stage of our history. As yet, Harold was known only as the hero of a series of adventures as wild and wonderful as any that have ever been recounted in poetry or romance. |Escape of Harold from Stikkelstad.| Wounded at Stikkelstad, the young prince was saved by a faithful companion, and was cherished during the following winter by a yeoman ignorant of his rank. He passed through Sweden into Russia, where he formed a |He goes to Constantinople.| friendship with King Jaroslaf of Novgorod. Thence, after a few years, he betook himself, with a small train |State of the Empire.| of companions, to the Byzantine Court. He found the Eastern Empire in one of those periods of decay which so strangely alternate in its history with periods of regeneration at home and victory abroad. The great Macedonian dynasty was still on the throne; but the mighty Basil was in his grave, and the steel-clad lancers of the New Rome were no longer the terror of Saracen, Bulgarian, |Reign of Zôê. 1028–1050.| and Russian. The Empire which he had saved, and which he had raised to the highest pitch of glory, had now become the plaything of a worthless woman, and the diadem of the Cæsars was passed on at every caprice of her fancy from one husband or lover to another. The Norwegian prince reached the Great City, the Mickelgard of Northern story, in the period of Byzantine history known as the Reigns of the Husbands of Zôê.[214] The Eastern Cæsars had already begun to gather the Northern adventurers who appeared at their doors as friends or as |The Warangians.| enemies into that famous Warangian body-guard, the counterpart of the Housecarls of Cnut, which as yet seems to have been recruited wholly from Scandinavia, but which was afterwards to be reinforced by so large a body of exiles from our own land.[215] Harold apparently received the command of this force, and at their head he is said to have performed a series of amazing exploits.[216] It would almost seem as if the arrival of these Northern auxiliaries had inspired the Empire with a new life. Certain |Their services under Harold in Sicily. 1038–1040.| it is that, just about this time, we find the Byzantine armies, after an interval of torpor, once more in vigorous action, and that in the very region in which the Norwegian Saga places the most memorable exploits of Harold. He waged war, we are told, against the Saracens both in Sicily and in Africa; he fought eight pitched battles, and took castle after castle from the misbelievers. That is, there can be little doubt, Harold and his followers served in the Sicilian expedition of Maniakês, who was at this time waging a vigorous war against the Saracens of Sicily, and who recovered many of their towns to the Empire.[217] It does not appear that Maniakês actually ventured on an African campaign, but, as the Saracens of Africa undoubtedly aided their Sicilian brethren,[218] a landing of Imperial troops on their coast is quite possible. At all events, warfare with African Saracens anywhere might easily, in the half-legendary language of the Sagas, grow |His Crusade or Pilgrimage.| into a tale of an actual invasion of Africa. Harold is next represented as entering on another series of adventures for which it is more difficult to find a place in authentic history. He set out, we are told, on a premature Crusade; he marched with his followers to Jerusalem, clearing the way of robbers, and winning back countless towns and castles to the allegiance of Christ and Cæsar. Here we have of course the mere reflexion of the age of the writer, who could not conceive so famous a warrior as entering the Holy City in any character but that of a conqueror. But that Harold, as a peaceful pilgrim, the brother of a canonized Saint, visited Jerusalem, prayed and gave gifts at the Holy Sepulchre, and bathed in the hallowed stream of Jordan, is quite in the spirit of the age and of the man.[219] He shared in the penitential devotion of Robert the father of Norman William and of Swegen the brother of English Harold; and, more fortunate than either, he returned in safety and glory to his own land. He came back to Constantinople to find himself maligned at the Imperial Court, and to be refused the hand of a niece of the Empress.[220] Scandal went so far as to say that the cause of this refusal was that Zôê, a woman whose passions survived to an unusually late period of life, herself cast an eye of love on the valiant |Harold escapes from Constantinople.| Northman. Harold now made his escape from Constantinople, after—so his Northern admirers ventured to say—putting out the eyes of the Emperor Constantine Monomachos. This of course is pure fiction. The historical truth of Harold’s warlike exploits is in no way impugned by the silence of the Byzantine writers; but so striking an event as the blinding of an Emperor could hardly fail to have found a native chronicler. But we may believe, if we please, that Harold carried off the princess by force, that the Scandinavian galleys burst the chain which guarded the Bosporos, that Harold then left his fair prize on shore, bidding her tell her Imperial kinswoman how little her power availed against either the might or the craft of the |He returns to Russia,| Northman. Harold now returned to Russia. He had carried off the Byzantine princess only as a bravado; his heart was fixed on Elizabeth, the daughter of his former host Jaroslaf of Novgorod. He now hastened to her father’s court, obtained her in marriage, and passed over with |and finds Swend in Sweden.| her into Sweden. He there found Swend, defeated and in banishment. With him he concerted measures for a joint expedition against Magnus, now in possession of |Swend and Harold attack Magnus, and save England from invasion. 1045.| Denmark.[221] There can be little doubt that it was this joint expedition of Swend and Harold which saved England from a Norwegian invasion. King Eadward watched at Sandwich with his great fleet during the whole summer, expecting the approach of the enemy. But Magnus came not. Harold and Swend together, by their invasion of Denmark, gave him full occupation throughout the year.[222]

Eadward marries Eadgyth. January 23, 1045.

It was apparently early in this year of expected invasion that Eadward at last married Eadgyth the daughter of Godwine.[223] It is not easy to see why the marriage had been so long delayed; but, if the Norman influence was advancing, the wary Earl might well deem that no time was to be lost in bringing about the full completion of a promise which the King was probably not very eager to fulfil. Godwine’s power however was not as yet seriously shaken. |Earldoms given to Harold and Beorn.| It was also probably in this year, as we have seen, that his son Harold and his wife’s nephew Beorn received their Earldoms.[224] The ecclesiastical appointments of the year seem also to point to the predominance of the patriotic |Death of Bishop Brihtwold.| party. In this year died Brihtwold, Bishop of Wilton or Ramsbury, a Prelate who had in past times been honoured with a vision portending Eadward’s accession to the Crown, and who had had the good luck of living to |Hermann of Lotharingia succeeds. 1045.| see his prophecy fulfilled.[225] The appointment of his successor should be carefully noticed. He was Hermann of Lotharingia, a chaplain of the King’s, the first of the series of German or other Imperialist Prelates of whom |Promotion of German Prelates.| I have already spoken.[226] The promotion of Germans in England was not wholly new. It seems to have begun under Cnut, and it was probably a fruit of his friendship |Duduc Bishop of Wells. 1033–1060.| with the Emperor Conrad. In his time the Saxon Duduc had obtained the see of Wells,[227] and another German, |Wythmann Abbot of Ramsey.| Wythmann by name, had held the great abbey of Ramsey.[228] Had the appointment of Hermann stood alone, we might have simply looked on it as the result of Eadward’s connexion with King Henry. Or we might even have looked on it in a worse light, as a sign that Eadward preferred foreigners of any sort to his own countrymen. But several considerations may lead us to |The German appointments probably favoured by Godwine.| look on the matter in another way. These German appointments are clearly part of a system; the system is continued after the death of Henry the Third, when the close connexion between Germany and England ceases; Harold himself, in the height of his power, appears as a special promoter of German churchmen. We can therefore hardly fail to see in these appointments, as I have already hinted, an attempt of Godwine and the patriotic party to counterbalance the merely French |Policy of Lotharingian appointments.| tendencies of Eadward himself. We must observe that most of these Prelates were natives of Lotharingia, a term which, in the geography of that age, includes—and indeed most commonly means—the Southern Netherlands. That is to say, they came from the border land of Germany and France, where the languages of both kingdoms were already familiar to every educated man.[229] We can well understand that, in those cases in which the patriots found it impossible to procure the King’s consent to the appointment of an Englishman, they might well be content to accept the appointment of a German of Lotharingia as a compromise. One whose blood, speech, and manners had not wholly lost the traces of ancient brotherhood would be more acceptable to Godwine and to England than a mere Frenchman. And one to whom the beloved speech of Gaul was as familiar as his mother-tongue would be more acceptable to the denationalized Eadward than one of his own subjects. This policy was probably as sound as any that could be hit upon in such a wretched state of things. But its results were not wholly satisfactory. I know of no reason to believe that any of these Lotharingian Prelates actually proved traitors to England; but they certainly did not, as a class, offer the same steady resistance to French influences as the men who had been born in the land. And, if they were not Normannizers, they were at least Romanizers. They brought with them habits of constant reference to the Papal See, and a variety of scruples on points of small canonical regularity, to which Englishmen had hitherto been strangers. Still something was gained, if Godwine, on the death of Brihtwold, could procure the appointment of a Lotharingian, instead of a French, successor.[230] A slight counterpoise was thus gained to the influence of the Norman Bishop of London. But, at the next great ecclesiastical |Death of Bishop Lyfing. March 23 1046.| vacancy, the patriotic party were more successful. In the course of the next year England lost one of her truest worthies; the great Earl lost one who had been his right hand man in so many crises of his life, in so |His career and character.| many labours for the welfare of his country. Lyfing, the patriot Bishop of Worcester, died in March in the following year. Originally a monk of Winchester, he was first raised to the Abbacy of Tavistock. While still holding |1027.| that office, he had been the companion of Cnut in his Roman pilgrimage, and had been the bearer of the great King’s famous letter to his English subjects.[231] The consummate prudence which he had displayed in that and in other commissions,[232] had procured his appointment to the Bishoprick of Crediton or Devonshire. With that see the Bishoprick of Cornwall had been finally united during his episcopate.[233] With that double see he had held, according |1038.| to a vicious use not uncommon at the time, the Bishoprick of Worcester in plurality.[234] In that office, he had steadily adhered to the cause of the great Earl through all the storms of the days of Harold and Harthacnut, and he had had a share second only to that of Godwine himself in the work of placing Eadward upon the throne.[235] Either his plurality of benefices had given, as it reasonably might, offence to strict assertors of ecclesiastical rule,[236] or, what is at least as likely, the patriotic career of Lyfing had made him, like Godwine himself, a mark for Norman slander, whether alive or dead. His death, we are told, was accompanied by strange portents, which were however quite as capable of a favourable as of an unfavourable interpretation.[237] But his memory was loved and cherished in the places where he was best known. Long after the Norman Conquest, the name of the Prelate whose body rested in their minster still lived in the hearts and on the mouths of the monks of Tavistock.[238] And the simple entry of a Chronicler who had doubtless heard him with his own ears bears witness to that power of speech in the exercise of which he had so often stood side by side with his illustrious friend. The other Chronicles merely record his death; the Worcester writer adds the speaking title, “Lyfing the eloquent.”[239]

Leofric, Bishop of Crediton or Exeter. 1046–1072.

The great mass of preferment held by Lyfing did not pass undivided to a single successor. The Bishopricks of Devonshire and Cornwall remained united, as they have done ever since. They were conferred on the King’s Chancellor, Leofric, who is described as a Briton, that is, doubtless, a native of the Cornish portion of his diocese.[240] His name however shows that he was of English, or at least of Anglicized, descent. But in feeling he was neither British nor English; as Hermann was a Lotharingian by birth, Leofric was equally a Lotharingian by education.[241] Four years after his appointment, he followed |He removes the see to Exeter. 1050.| the example of Ealdhun of Durham in removing his episcopal see to a new site.[242] He did not however, like Ealdhun, create at once a church and a city;[243] he rather forestalled the practice of Prelates later in the century by transferring his throne to the greatest town of his diocese. The humbler Crediton had to yield its episcopal rank to the great city of the West, the city which Æthelstan had fortified as a cherished bulwark of his realm,[244] the city whose valiant burghers had beaten back the Dane in his full might, and which had fallen into his hands only when the Norman traitor was set to guard its walls.[245] She whose fatal presence had caused that great misfortune still |1003–1050.| lived. The first years of Emma in England beheld the capture and desolation of her noble morning-gift. Her last years saw the restored city become the spiritual capital of the great western peninsula. And, within the lifetime |1067.| of many who saw that day, Exeter was again to stand a siege at the hands of a foreign King, and again to show forth the contrast between citizens as valiant as those who drove Swend from before their walls and captains as incompetent or as treacherous as Hugh the Churl. The church of Saint Peter in Exeter now became the cathedral church of the western diocese, and there Leofric was solemnly enthroned in his episcopal chair by the saintly King and his virgin wife.[246] Hitherto the church had been occupied by nuns. They were now removed, and the chapter of the Bishop was formed of secular Canons. Leofric however required them to conform to the stricter |He subjects his Canons to the rule of Chrodegang.| discipline which he had learned in Lotharingia. The rule of Chrodegang of Metz, the model rule of secular Canons, though it did not impose monastic vows, yet imposed on those who conformed to it much of the strictness of monastic discipline.[247] The clerks who submitted to it were severed, hardly less than actual monks, from all the ordinary habits of domestic life. They were condemned to the common table and the common dormitory; every detail of their life was regulated by a series of minute ordinances; they were cut off from lay, and especially from female, society, and bound to a strict obedience to their Bishop or other ecclesiastical superior. Still they were not monks; they were even strictly forbidden to wear the monastic garb,[248] and the pastoral duties of baptism, preaching, and hearing confession were strictly enforced upon them. In accordance with the precepts of Chrodegang, the Canons of Exeter were required to eat in a common hall and to sleep in a common dormitory. Their temporal concerns were managed by an officer, who provided them with daily food, and with a yearly change of raiment. This sort of discipline never found favour in England. All who were not actual monks clave earnestly to the usage of separate houses, in which they were often solaced by the company of wives and children. Every earlier and later attempt to introduce the Lotharingian rule in England utterly failed.[249] Leofric’s discipline seems to have lasted somewhat longer than commonly happened in the like cases. Vestiges of the severer rule still remained at Exeter in the next century, but even then the purity of ancient discipline had greatly fallen off.[250]

Ealdred, Abbot of Tavistock, Bishop of Worcester, 1046; Archbishop of York, 1061–1069.

One of the sees vacated by the death of Lyfing thus fell to the lot of a zealous ecclesiastical reformer, but a man who plays no important part in the general history of the time. The fate of Lyfing’s other Bishoprick was widely different. It was bestowed on a Prelate who, without ever displaying any very great qualities, played a prominent, and on the whole not a dishonourable, part for many years to come. The early career of the famous Ealdred, who now succeeded Lyfing in the see of Worcester, had led him through nearly the same stages as that of his predecessor. Like him, he had been a monk at Winchester; like him, he had been thence called to the government of one of the great monasteries of the West. The Abbey of Tavistock, |997.| destroyed by Danish invaders in the reign of Æthelred,[251] had risen from its ashes, and it now proved a nursery of |Character of Ealdred.| Prelates like Lyfing and Ealdred.[252] The new Bishop was a man of ability and energy. He exhibits, like Harold, the better form of the increasing connexion between England and the continent. As an ambassador at the Imperial court, as a pilgrim at Rome and Jerusalem, he probably saw more of the world than any contemporary Englishman. He was renowned as a peacemaker, one who could reconcile the bitterest enemies.[253] But he was also somewhat of a time-server, and, in common with so many other Prelates of his time, he did not escape the charge of simony. This charge is one which it is easy to bring and often hard to answer, but the frequency with which it is brought shows that the crime itself was a familiar one. Like many other churchmen of his time, Ealdred did not scruple to bear arms both in domestic and in foreign warfare, but his campaigns were, to say the least, not specially glorious. His most enduring title to remembrance is that it fell to his lot to place, within a single year, the Crown of England on the brow, first of Harold and then of William, and to die of sorrow at the sight of his church and city brought to ruin by the mutual contentions of Normans, Englishmen, and Danes.

Gruffydd ap Llywelyn reconciled with the King. 1046.

We shall find the new Bishop of Worcester appearing a few years later in arms against the Welsh, to whose incursions the southern part of his diocese lay open. But as yet it was only his powers of persuasion and peacemaking which he was called upon to exercise in that quarter. It was probably by Ealdred’s intervention that a reconciliation was now brought about between the famous King of North Wales, Gruffydd ap Llywelyn,[254] and his English overlord.

Expedition of Swegen and Gruffydd against Gruffydd ap Rhydderch. 1046.

Gruffydd’s immediate neighbour to the east was Swegen, whose anomalous Earldom took in the border shires of Gloucester and Hereford. Gruffydd accordingly gave hostages, and accompanied Swegen in an expedition against the other Gruffydd, the son of Rhydderch, the King of South Wales.[255] On his triumphant return Swegen was guilty of an act which embittered the remainder of his days, a breach of the laws of morality which the ecclesiastical feelings of the time clothed with tenfold guilt. He sent for Eadgifu, Abbess of Leominster, kept her |Swegen seduces Eadgifu, Abbess of Leominster.| awhile with him, and then sent her home.[256] Like the Hamor of patriarchal story, he next sought, with a generosity as characteristic of his wayward temper as any |He seeks in vain to marry her.| of his worst deeds, to make reparation by marriage.[257] But the law of the Church stood in his way. Richard of Normandy, as we have seen, found it easy to raise his mistress to all the honours due to a matron and the wife of a sovereign. The Lady Emma herself, wife and mother of so many Kings, was the offspring of an union which the Church had thus hallowed only after the fact.[258] But no such means of reparation were open to the seducer of a consecrated virgin. The marriage was of course forbidden, |He throws up his Earldom, and goes to Denmark.| and Swegen, in his disappointment, threw up his Earldom, left his country, and betook himself, first to Flanders, the usual place of refuge for English exiles, and thence to the seat of war in the North.[259] A formal sentence of outlawry seems to have followed, as the lordships of Swegen were confiscated, and divided between his brother Harold and his cousin Beorn.[260] On Eadgifu and her monastery the hand of ecclesiastical discipline seems |Fate of Leominster monastery.| to have fallen heavily. The nunnery of Leominster, one of the objects of the bounty of Earl Leofric,[261] now vanishes from history. The natural inference is that the misconduct of Eadgifu led, not only to her own disgrace, but to the dissolution of the sisterhood over which she had so unworthily presided.[262] We hear of no later marriage on the part of Swegen, but in after years we shall meet with |Hakon son of Swegen.| a son of his, probably a child of the frail Abbess of Leominster. Born under other circumstances, he might have been head of the house of Godwine. As it was, the son of Swegen and Eadgifu was the child of shame and sacrilege, and the career to which he was doomed was short and gloomy.

Banishment of Osgod Clapa. 1046.

The banishment of the Staller Osgod Clapa, at the bridal of whose daughter King Harthacnut had come to his untimely end, took place this year.[263] Like the banishment of Gunhild, this measure was evidently connected with the movements in the North of Europe. Osgod was doubtless one of those who had been marked men ever since the election of Eadward,[264] and who, in the present state of Scandinavian affairs, were felt to be dangerous. The immediate peril came from Magnus; but there could be little doubt that, of the three princes who were disputing the superiority of Scandinavia, the successful one, whether Magnus, Harold, or Swend, would assert some sort of claim to the possession of England. Magnus had |1066.| done so already. Harold lived to invade England and to perish in the attempt. It was only the singular prudence of Swend which kept him back from any such enterprise till he was able to interfere in English affairs in the guise |1069.| of a deliverer. Partisans of any one of the contending princes were clearly dangerous in England. Osgod was driven out, seemingly by a decree of the Christmas Gemót,[265] and he presently, after the usual sojourn in Flanders, betook himself to the seat of war in Denmark.[266]

Affairs of Scandinavia.

Osgod and Swegen most probably took service with Swend Estrithson. The presence of Swegen would doubtless be welcome indeed to that prince’s partisans. The nephew of Ulf, the cousin of their own leader, the son of the great English Earl, renowned in the North as the conqueror of the Wends,[267] was a recruit richly to be prized. And the cause of Swend Estrithson just then greatly needed recruits. His hopes, lately so flourishing, had been |Harold Hardrada joins Magnus and receives a share of the Kingdom of Norway. 1047.| again dashed to the ground. Magnus had contrived to gain over his uncle Harold to his side, by the costly bribe of a share in the Kingdom of Norway. The gift indeed was not quite gratuitous. Besides cooperating in the war with Swend, Harold was to share with Magnus the treasures which he had gathered in his Southern warfare.[268] The two Kings now joined their forces, and drove Swend out of Jütland and the Danish Isles. He retained only Scania, that part of the old Danish realm which lies on the Swedish side of the Sound, and which is now politically part of Sweden.[269] In the next year Swend was |Swend asks for English help.| again aiming at the recovery of his Kingdom. It was probably the presence of English exiles in his camp, which suggested to him the idea of obtaining regular help from England as an ally of the English King. He |His request is discussed by the Witan;| sent and asked for the help of an English fleet. In those days questions of peace and war were not decided either by the Sovereign only, or by the Sovereign and a few secret counsellors; they were debated openly by the Witan of the whole land. The demand of Swend was discussed in full Gemót. Swend had certainly acted, whether of set purpose or not, as a friend of England; the diversion caused by him had saved England from a Norwegian invasion. But, setting aside any feelings of gratitude on this account, any feelings of attachment to the kinsman of Cnut and of Godwine, it does not appear that England had any direct interest in embracing the cause of Swend. A party which sought only the immediate interest of England might argue that the sound policy was to stand aloof, and to leave the contending Kings of the North to wear out each other’s power and their own. Such however |Godwine supports the claim of Swend;| was not the view taken by Godwine. In the Gemót in which the question was debated, the Earl of the West-Saxons supported the petition of his nephew, and proposed that fifty ships should be sent to his help. It is clear that such a course might be supported by plausible arguments. It is clear that equally plausible arguments might be brought forward on the other side. And if, as is possible, this question was discussed in the same Gemót in which sentence of outlawry was pronounced against Swegen the son of Godwine, it is clear that the father of the culprit would stand at a great disadvantage in supporting the request of the prince with whom that culprit had taken service. It marks the still abiding influence of Godwine that he was able to preserve the confiscated lordships of Swegen for Harold and Beorn. But in his recommendation of giving armed support to Swend Estrithson all his |but his demand is opposed by Leofric, and rejected. 1047.| eloquence utterly failed. The cause of non-intervention was pleaded by Earl Leofric, and his arguments prevailed. All the people, we are told—the popular character of the Assembly still impresses itself on the language of history—agreed with Leofric and determined the proposal of Godwine to be unwise. The naval force of Magnus, it was said, was too great to be withstood.[270] Swend Estrithson had therefore to carry on the struggle with his own unaided forces. Against the combined powers of Magnus |Magnus defeats Swend and occupies Denmark.| and Harold those forces were utterly unavailing. Swend was defeated in a great sea-fight; Magnus took possession of all Denmark, and laid a heavy contribution upon the realm.[271] Swend again took refuge in Sweden, and now began to meditate a complete surrender of his claims upon Denmark. Just at this moment, we are told, a messenger appeared, bringing the news of the sudden death of |Sudden death of Magnus. 1047.| Magnus.[272] The victorious King had perished by an accident not unlike that which had caused the death of Lewis of France.[273] His horse, suddenly startled by a hare, dashed his rider against the trunk of a tree.[274] On his death-bed he bequeathed the crown of Norway to his uncle Harold |Harold succeeds in Norway, Swend in Denmark.| and that of Denmark to his adversary Swend. Such a bequest is quite in harmony with the spirit of the correspondence between Magnus and Eadward.[275] Swend returned |Their long warfare. 1048–1061.| and took possession of his Kingdom, and though he was for years engaged in constant warfare with Harold, he |Their embassies to England.| never wholly lost his hold upon the country. The first act of both the new Kings was to send embassies to England. Harold offered peace and friendship; Swend again asked for armed help against Harold.[276] The debate of the |Help again refused to Swend, and peace concluded with Harold. 1048.| year before was again reopened. Godwine again supported the request of his nephew, and again proposed that fifty ships should be sent to his help. Leofric again opposed the motion, and the people again with one voice supported Leofric. Help was refused to Swend and peace was concluded with Harold.[277] Swend, despairing of English aid, seems to have sought for protection in another quarter, and to have acknowledged himself a vassal of the Empire.[278]

Physical phænomena. 1046–7.

These two years seem to have been marked by several physical phænomena. In the former we hear of the |May 1, 1048.| unusual severity of the winter, accompanied by an extraordinary fall of snow.[279] In the latter several of the midland shires were visited by an earthquake.[280] We read also of epidemics both among men and beasts, and of the appearance called wild fire.[281] A few ecclesiastical appointments are also recorded; but one only calls for notice. |Death of Ælfwine of Winchester, Aug. 29, 1047. Stigand succeeds.| Ælfwine, Bishop of Winchester, died, and his Bishoprick fell neither to Frenchmen nor to Lotharingian. Stigand rose another step in the ladder of promotion by his translation from the humbler see of Elmham to the Bishoprick of the Imperial city.[282]

Ravages of Lothen and Yrling. 1048.

As far as we can make out through the confused chronology of these years, it was in the year of the peace with Norway that England underwent, what we have not now heard of for many years, an incursion of Scandinavian pirates.[283] Two chiefs, named Lothen and Yrling, came with twenty-five ships, and harried various parts of the coast. This event must have been in some way connected with the course of the war between Harold and Swend. Probably some enterprising Wikings in the service of one or other of those princes found a moment of idleness just as the two Kings were taking possession of their crowns, and thought the opportunity a good one for an attack on England. Such an attack was doubtless unexpected, especially as such good care had been taken to keep on good terms with both the contending Kings. But possibly the more daring policy of Godwine would really have been the safer.[284] Had fifty English ships, whatever their errand, been afloat in the Northern seas, Lothen and Yrling could hardly have come to plunder the shores of England. Anyhow the story shows us the sort of spirit which still reigned in the North. There were still plenty of men ready to seek their fortunes in any part of the world as soon as a moment of unwelcome quiet appeared at home. Harold and Swend at least did the world some service by finding employment for such men in warfare with one another. The Wikings harried far and wide. From Sandwich they carried off a vast booty in men, gold, and silver.[285] In the Isle of Wight they must have met with more resistance, as many of the best men of the island are said to have been slain.[286] In Thanet too the landfolk withstood them manfully, refused them landing and water, and drove them altogether away.[287] Thence they sailed to Essex, where they plundered at their pleasure.[288] By this time the King |Eadward and the Earls pursue the pirates, but they escape to Flanders.| and the Earls had got together some ships. The Earls were doubtless Godwine and Harold, on whose governments the attack had been made, and the words of our authorities seem to imply that Eadward was really present in person.[289] They sailed after the pirates, but they were too late. The enemy had already made his way to the common refuge of banished Englishmen and of foes of England. The Wikings were now safe in the havens of Flanders—of Baldwines land; there they found a ready market for the spoils of England, and thence they sailed back to their own country.[290]

Analogy with the relations with Normandy in 991 and 1000.

We here seem to be reading over again the history of the events which led to the first hostile relations between England and Normandy.[291] The Northmen are again plundering England, and a continental power again gives them so much of help and comfort as is implied in letting them sell their plunder in his havens. This time the offending power was not Normandy but Flanders, and Eadward, unlike his father, had no lack of powerful friends on the |Alliance with the Emperor Henry.| continent. The great prince who had, a year before,[292] been raised to the throne of the world was, as we have seen,[293] on the most intimate terms with his English brother, and it is plain that close alliance with the Empire formed part of the policy of the patriotic party. The illustrious Cæsar had filled the Papal chair with a Pontiff like-minded |The German Popes.| with himself. A series of German Popes of Imperial nomination had followed one another in a quick succession of short reigns, but they had had time to show forth in their virtues a marked contrast to the utter degradation of the Italian Pontiffs who had gone |Leo the Ninth. 1048–1054.| immediately before them. The throne of Peter was now filled, at the Imperial bidding, by Bruno, Bishop of Toul, a native of Elsass and kinsman of the Emperor, who had taken the name of Leo the Ninth.[294] He was now in his second year of office, having· been appointed in the year of the peace between England and Norway. It was perhaps only a later legend which told how, on his way to Rome, he fell in with the famous Hildebrand, then in exile, how he listened to his rebukes for the crime of accepting a spiritual office from an earthly lord, how he entered Rome as a pilgrim, and did not venture to ascend the Pontifical throne till he was again more regularly chosen thereto by the voice of the Roman clergy and people.[295] But, in any case, this concession to ecclesiastical rule or prejudice had abated nothing of Leo’s loyalty to his Teutonic sovereign, nothing of his zeal for the welfare, both spiritual and temporal, of lands which the Italian Pontiffs so seldom visited. The Pope was now at Aachen, |Rebellion of Godfrey and Baldwin against the Emperor. 1047.| ready with his spiritual weapons to help the Emperor against a league of his rebellious vassals. They had waged war against their suzerain; they had burned the city and church of Verdun; they had destroyed the noble palace of the Emperor at Nimwegen. Foremost among the offenders were Theodoric of Holland, Baldwin of Flanders, and Godfrey of Lotharingia. Godfrey was specially guilty. After a former rebellion he had been imprisoned and released, and now he was foremost in the new insurrection, especially in the deed of sacrilege at Verdun.[296] The Pope therefore did not hesitate to issue |Leo excommunicates Godfrey. 1049.| his excommunication against him. Godfrey yielded; the ban of the father of Christendom bent his soul; he submitted to scourging, he redeemed his hair at a great sum, he contributed largely to the rebuilding of the cathedral which he had burned, and himself laboured at the work |Continued ravages of Baldwin.| like a common mason. But Baldwin of Flanders, possibly trusting to his ambiguous position as a vassal both of the Empire and of the French Crown, was more obstinate, and still continued his ravages. The Emperor accordingly called on his vassals and allies for help against a prince whose power might well seem dangerous even to Kings |Swend and Eadward join the Emperor against Baldwin.| and Cæsars. King Swend of Denmark—so low had Denmark fallen since the days of Cnut—obeyed the summons as a vassal.[297] King Eadward of England contributed his help as an ally, and as one who was himself an injured party. The reception of English exiles at Baldwin’s court, the licence allowed to Scandinavian pirates of selling the spoils of England in Baldwin’s havens, caused every Englishman to look on the Count of Flanders as an enemy. The help which had been refused to Swend was therefore readily granted to Henry. The King of the English was not indeed asked to take any share in continental warfare by land. The share of the enterprise assigned to him was to keep the coast with his ships, in case the rebellious prince should attempt to escape by sea.[298] Again, as in the days of Æthelstan and Eadmund, an English fleet appeared in the Channel, ready, if need be, to take a part in continental warfare. But now, as in the days of |Baldwin defeated without actual English help.| Æthelstan and Eadmund,[299] nothing happened which called for its active service. Eadward and his fleet watched at Sandwich, while the Emperor marched against Baldwin by land. But the Count of Flanders, instead of betaking himself to the sea, submitted in all things to the will of the mighty overlord whom he had provoked.[300]

The submission of Baldwin lets loose the English exiles.

The immediate object for the assembling of the fleet had been attained; but the events which immediately followed showed that the fleet was just as likely to be needed for protection at home, as for a share in even just and necessary warfare abroad. The submission of Baldwin to the Emperor seems to have let loose the English exiles who had been flitting backwards and forwards between Flanders and Denmark,[301] and who had possibly taken a part on Baldwin’s side in the last campaign. Both Osgod Clapa and Swegen the son of |Swegen and Osgod return.| Godwine now appeared at sea. Swegen had only eight ships; but Osgod had—we are not told how—gathered a force of thirty-nine. While the King was still at Sandwich, Swegen returned to England. He sailed first to Bosham, a favourite lordship of his father’s, and one whose name we shall again meet with in connexion with events of still greater moment to the house of Godwine. He there left his ships, and went to the King at Sandwich, |Swegen’s reconciliation with Eadward. 1049.| and offered to become his man.[302] His natural allegiance as an English subject was perhaps held to be cancelled by his outlawry or by his having become the man of Swend of Denmark or of some other foreign prince. A new personal commendation was seemingly needed for his reconciliation with his natural sovereign. He seems to have asked for his Earldom again; at any rate, he was tired of the life of a sea-rover, and asked that his lands which had been confiscated might be given back to him for his maintenance. He seems to have found favour, either with the King personally or with some of those who were about him, for it was proposed, if not actually resolved, that Swegen should be restored to all his former possessions.[303] But the strongest opponents of such a course |Harold and Beorn oppose his reconciliation.| were found in the kinsmen to whom his confiscated lands had been granted, his cousin Beorn and his brother Harold. They both refused to give up any part of what the King had given them.[304] Swegen’s petition was accordingly refused; |Swegen’s outlawry is renewed.| his outlawry was confirmed; only, as seems to have been usual in such cases, he was allowed four days to get him out of the country. How far Harold and Beorn were actuated in this matter by mere regard to their own interests, how far by a regard to the public good, how far by that mixture of motives which commonly determines men’s actions, we have no means of judging. This is not the only act of Harold’s early life which may be taken to show that he had not yet acquired those wonderful gifts of conciliation and self-restraint which mark his more mature career. Of the character of Beorn we know nothing except from this story; what we hear of him directly afterwards certainly sets him before us in a generous and amiable light. The tale is told us in a perfectly colourless way, without any hint how the conduct of the two cousins was judged of in the eyes of contemporaries in general or in those of Earl Godwine. At all events, Swegen went away from Sandwich disappointed. He thence went to Bosham, where his ships were lying in the land-locked haven of that place. This was just at the moment when the fleet, no longer needed for service against Baldwin, was beginning to disperse. We see that this fleet also had been gathered in the ancient way by the contingents or contributions of the shires,[305] and that only a small number of the ships were in the King’s permanent service. Those of the crews who had come from distant, especially inland, districts were naturally weary of tarrying when there was no prospect of active service, and the contingent of Mercia was accordingly allowed to return home.[306] The King remained at Sandwich with a few ships only. Meanwhile a rumour came that hostile ships had been seen ravaging |Godwine at Pevensey.| to the west. The Earl of the West-Saxons accordingly sailed forth to the rescue, with forty-two ships belonging to the men of his Earldom.[307] He took also two ships of the King’s, commanded respectively by Harold and by his third son Tostig, of whom we now hear for the first time.[308] Stress of weather however hindered them from getting further west than Pevensey. While they lay there, a change, of the motive of which we are not told, was made in the command of the two royal ships which had accompanied Godwine. Harold gave up the ship which he had commanded to his cousin Beorn.[309] This accidental change possibly saved Harold’s life.[310] For Swegen now came from Bosham to Pevensey, and there found his father and cousin. He there spoke with both of them. The result of their discourse was that Beorn |Beorn entrapped and slain by Swegen.| was persuaded to undertake the office of intercessor with the King on Swegen’s behalf. What arrangement was to be proposed—whether Beorn brought himself to consent to the sacrifice which he had before refused—whether Swegen was to be again invested with his Earldom or only with his private lordships—whether Harold, Beorn, or Swegen was to be compensated in any other way for the surrenders which one or more of them would have to make—of all this nothing is explained to us. We hear however that Beorn, trusting to his kindred with Swegen,[311] did not hesitate to set out to ride with him to the King at Sandwich. He even agreed to a proposal of Swegen’s, according to which they left the road from Pevensey to Sandwich, and went westward to Bosham. For this deviation from his original scheme Swegen made an excuse, which was doubtless more intelligible then than it is now, namely a fear lest the crews of his ships should forsake him, if they were not confirmed in their faith to him by the presence of Beorn. The young Earl fell into the snare, and accompanied his cousin to the haven of Bosham. But when Swegen pressed him to go on board one of his ships, Beorn’s suspicions were at last aroused, and he vehemently refused. At last Swegen’s sailors bound him, put him in a boat, rowed him to the ships, and there kept him a prisoner. They then hoisted their sails and steered for Dartmouth.[312] There Beorn was killed by Swegen’s orders, but his body was taken on shore and buried in a church. As soon as the murder became known, Earl Harold,[313] with others of Beorn’s friends, and the sailors from London—a clear mark of Beorn’s popularity—came and took up the body, carried it to Winchester, and there buried it in the Old Minster by the side of Beorn’s uncle King Cnut.

Swegen declared Nithing by the armed Gemót.

The general indignation at the crime of Swegen was intense. The King and the army publicly declared the murderer to be Nithing.[314] This was the vilest epithet in the English language, implying utter worthlessness. It was evidently used as a formal term of dishonour. We shall find |1087.| it at a later time resorted to by a Norman King as a means of appeal to his English subjects. William Rufus, when he needed English support, proclaimed in the like sort that all who failed to come to his standard should be declared to be Nithing. But this proclamation has a deeper importance than the mere use of this curious expression of public |Functions of the Witan discharged by the army.| contempt. It is to be noted that the proclamation is described as the act of the King and his army. Here is clearly a case of a military Gemót.[315] The army, as representing the nation, assumes to itself in time of war the functions which belonged to the regular Gemót in time of peace. The army declares Swend to be Nithing, and it was doubtless the army, in the same sense, which had just before hearkened to, and finally rejected, his petition for restoration to his estates. So it was the army, Cnut’s |1014.| Danish army, which assumed to itself the functions of the English Witan by disposing of the English Crown on the death of King Swend.[316] In the ancient Teutonic constitution the army was the nation and the nation was the army. In the primitive Gemóts described by Tacitus,[317] to which all men came armed, no distinction could be |Nature of the military Gemót.| drawn between the two. But it should be noticed that the word used is not that which denotes the armed levy of the Kingdom, but that which expresses the army in its special relation to the King.[318] This fact exactly falls in with the practical, though not formal, change which had taken place in the constitution of the ordinary Gemóts.[319] The military Gemót which passed this sentence on Swegen was not the whole force of England, for we were just before told that the contingents both of Mercia and Wessex had left Sandwich. This assembly must have consisted of the King’s Comitatus of both kinds, of the Thegns bound to him by the older and more honourable tie, and also of the standing force of the Housecarls, or at any rate of their officers.[320] Setting churchmen aside—though we have seen that even churchmen often bore arms both by land and by sea—such a body would probably contain a large proportion of the men who were likely to attend an ordinary Witenagemót. By an assembly of this kind, acting, whether constitutionally or not, in the character of a National Assembly, the outlawry and disgrace of Swegen were decreed.

Swegen, deserted by most of his ships, escapes to Flanders.

It would seem that this decree preceded the translation of Beorn’s body to Winchester, a ceremony which may not improbably have been ordered by the Assembly. For it was before that translation[321] that the men of Hastings, most probably by some commission from the King or his military council, sailed forth to take vengeance on the murderer. Swegen was already forsaken by the greater part of his following. Of his eight ships six had left him. Their crews were probably rough Wikings from the North, men familiar with all the horrors of ordinary pirate warfare, not troubled with scruples about harrying a land whose people had never wronged them, but who nevertheless shrank from the fouler wickedness of slaying a kinsman by guile. Two ships only remained with Swegen, those doubtless whose crews had been the actual perpetrators of the deed. The men of Hastings chased and overtook these ships, slew their crews, and brought the ships to the King.[322] How Swegen himself escaped it is not easy to see; possibly the men of Hastings still scrupled personally to lay hands upon a son of Godwine. At any rate the murderer baffled pursuit, and again took shelter in his old quarters. Baldwin, so lately restored to his dominions, again began his old practice of receiving English exiles, and Swegen spent the whole winter at the court of Flanders under the full protection of its sovereign.[323]

Character of the act of Swegen.

The story of the murder of Beorn is told in so minute and graphic a way that it seems impossible to throw doubt on any part of the tale. And every account represents the deed as a deed of deliberate treachery.[324] An act of mere violence would not have greatly offended the morality of that age. Had Swegen killed even a kinsman in a moment of provocation or in a fair fight to decide a quarrel, his guilt would not have seemed very black. Had he even used craft in carrying out an ancestral deadly feud, he might have quoted many precedents in Northumbrian history, and, among them, an act in the life of the reigning Earl of the North hardly inferior in guilt to the worst |Universal indignation against Swegen.| aspect of his own.[325] But to kill a kinsman, a confiding kinsman, one who had just granted a somewhat unreasonable prayer, was something which offended the natural instincts not only of contemporary Englishmen but of Scandinavian pirates. At the moment Swegen seems to have found no friends; the voice of all England was against him; there is no sign that any of his family stood by him; the sympathies of Harold clearly lay with his murdered cousin. It is hardly possible to conceive a blacker or more unpardonable crime. One would have thought that Swegen would have failed to find patrons or protectors in any |His reception by Baldwin.| corner of Christendom. Yet, strange to say, the murderer, forsaken by all, was at once received with favour by Baldwin, even though Baldwin must have known that by receiving him he was running the risk of again offending the King of the English and even the Emperor himself. |His outlawry is reversed and he returns to England. Midlent, 1050.| And what followed is stranger still. In the next year, in a Witenagemót held in London in Midlent, Swegen’s outlawry was reversed, and he was restored to his Earldom.[326] And, strangest of all, his restoration is attributed, not to the influence of Godwine or his family, not to any revulsion of feeling on the part of the King or the nation, but |Swegen reconciled to Eadward by Bishop Ealdred.| to the personal agency of Bishop Ealdred the Peacemaker. He it was who, it would seem, crossed over to Flanders, brought Swegen to England, and procured his restoration at the hands of the King and his Witan.[327] There is nothing to show that Ealdred was specially under the influence of Godwine. We shall before long find him acting in a manner which, to say the least, shows that he was not one of Godwine’s special followers. His episcopal city and the greater part of his diocese lay within the Earldom of Leofric; no part of it lay within the Earldom of Godwine.[328] And, if part of his diocese lay within the Earldom of the man whom he sought to restore, that only makes him the more responsible for the act which was so directly to affect a portion of his own flock. In the restoration of Swegen, Ealdred seems to have acted purely in his capacity of peacemaker.[329] At first sight it might seem that Ealdred strove to win the blessing promised to his class by labouring on behalf of a sinner whom the most enlarged charity could hardly excuse. The very strangeness of the act suggests that there must have been some explaining cause, intelligible at the time, but which our authorities have not recorded. The later history of Swegen shows that, if he was a great sinner, he was also a great penitent. We can only guess that Ealdred already marked in him some signs of remorse and amendment, that he had received from him some confession of his crime, to which we possibly owe the full and graphic accounts of the murder of Beorn which have been handed down to us.[330] If so, it was doubtless wise and charitable not to break a bruised reed; still again to entrust the government of five English shires to the seducer of Eadgifu and murderer of Beorn was, to say the least, a perilous experiment.

We must now go back to the time when King Eadward had just dismissed the Mercian contingent after the reconciliation |Various military operations of the year 1049.| between Baldwin and the Emperor. While the unhappy events which I have just narrated were going on, Englishmen had cause to be alert in more than one quarter of the island against assaults of various kinds. In the comparatively peaceful reign of Eadward this year stands forth as marked by warlike operations of every sort. England had to resist the assaults of foreign enemies, of faithless vassals, and of banished men seeking their restoration. |Movements of Osgod Clapa.| Besides the small force of Swegen, Osgod Clapa was, as has been already said,[331] at sea with a much larger number of ships. He first appeared at Wulpe near Sluys on the coast of Flanders, and the news of his arrival there was brought to Eadward at the moment when the King was left at Sandwich at the head of a very small force. The Mercian contingent had just been dismissed, and Godwine, with the force of Wessex, had sailed westward. Eadward was therefore nearly defenceless. He therefore countermanded the orders for the dismissal of the Mercian vessels, and as many of them as was possible were brought |He returns to Denmark.| back. Osgod however did not act personally as the enemy of England. He merely took his wife from Bruges, where she had been left, and sailed back to Denmark with |Piracy and destruction of his fleet.| six ships. The remainder of his fleet took to piracy off Eadulfsness in Essex, and there did much harm. But a violent storm arose and destroyed all the vessels except four.[332] These were chased and captured, and the crews slain, whether by Eadward’s own fleet in pursuit or by some of the foreign allies of England is not very clear.[333]

Ships from Ireland in the Bristol Channel; joined by Gruffydd of South Wales. July, 1049.

The rumour which had called Godwine westward from Sandwich was not wholly a false one. The ships which were then said to be ravaging the south coast, were doubtless Danish pirate vessels from Ireland, the same which, in the course of July, sailed up the Bristol Channel as far as the mouth of the Usk.[334] There they were welcomed by the South-Welsh King Gruffydd,[335] who was doubtless rejoiced at the prospect of such allies, alike against the English and against his Northern namesake, the momentary confederate of England. After a certain amount of harrying along the coast of the Channel, the combined forces of Gruffydd and the pirates crossed the Wye, and slew and |They invade Gloucestershire, and defeat Bishop Ealdred.| plundered within the diocese of Worcester. It is not clear who was the Earl responsible for the safety of the country since the banishment of Swegen. It was probably the King’s nephew, Ralph the Timid, whose name begins about this time to appear in the Charters with the title of Earl.[336] If this be so, this was the first appointment of a foreigner to a great temporal office, a further step in the downward course, still more marked than that of appointing foreign Prelates. Under such a chief as Ralph no vigorous resistance was to be looked for, and the person who really took upon himself the defence of the country was Bishop Ealdred. He gathered a force from among the inhabitants of Gloucestershire and Herefordshire; but part of his army consisted of Welshmen, whether mere mercenaries hired for the occasion, or Welshmen living as immediate subjects of England. But whoever these Welshmen were, their sympathies lay wholly with Gruffydd and not with Ealdred. They sent a secret message to the Welsh King, suggesting an immediate attack on the English army. Gruffydd willingly answered to the call. With his twofold |July 29, 1049.| force, Welsh and Danish, he fell on the English camp early in the morning, slew many good men, and put the rest, together with the Bishop, to flight.[337] Of the further results of this singular and perplexing campaign, especially when and how the retreat of the invaders was brought about, we hear nothing.

Increasing connexion with the continent.

Everything which happened about this time sets before us the great and increasing intercourse which now prevailed between England and the continent. Our fathers |English attendance at Synods.| were now brought into a nearer connexion with both the spiritual and the temporal chiefs of Christendom than they had ever known before. We have already seen England in close alliance with the Empire; we have now to contemplate her relations with the Papacy. The active and saintly Pontiff who now presided over the Church held at this time a series of Councils in various places, at most of which English Prelates attended. Leo, after receiving the submission of Godfrey at Aachen, entered France, at the request of Heremar, Abbot of Saint Remigius at Rheims, to hallow the newly built church of his monastery.[338] |Synod of Rheims.| He then held a synod, which sat for six days, and passed several canons of the usual sort, against the marriage of priests and against their bearing arms.[339] The days of Otto the Great seemed to have returned, when the Pope and the Emperor,[340] seemingly without reference to the Parisian King, held a Council on French ground, attended by a vast multitude of Prelates, clergy, and laity from the Imperial Kingdoms and from other parts of Europe. There, besides the Metropolitan of the city in which the synod was held, was the Archbishop of Burgundy, as our Chronicles call him,[341] that is, the Archbishop of the great see of Lyons, Primate of all the Gauls, but no subject or vassal of the upstart dynasty of Paris. There were the Archbishops of Trier and Besançon; and from England came Duduc, the Saxon Bishop of Wells, and the Abbots Wulfric of Saint Augustine’s and Ælfwine of Ramsey, whom King Eadward had sent to bring him word of all that should be done for the good of Christendom.[342] |Synod of Mainz.| It does not appear that any English Prelates were present at the synod which Leo held soon after at Mainz;[343] but the two Italian synods which were held soon after were, as we shall see, connected in a singular manner with English affairs. There seems to have been about |Deaths of Bishops and Abbots.| this time a kind of mortality among the English Prelates. Among those who died was the Abbot of Westminster or Thorney, the humbler foundation which was soon to give way to the great creation of the reigning King. He bore the name of Wulfnoth, a name which suggests the likelihood of kindred with the house of Godwine. Another was Oswiu, the Abbot of the other Thorney in the fen land, the neighbour of Peterborough and Crowland. This |Siward dies, and Eadsige resumes the Primacy. 1049.| year too died Siward the Coadjutor-Archbishop, and Eadsige again resumed his functions for the short remainder |Eadnoth of Dorchester dies; Ulf succeeds. 1049.| of his life.[344] Eadnoth too, the good Bishop of Dorchester,[345] the builder of Stow in Lindesey, died this year, and his death offered a magnificent bait to Norman ambition and greediness. The great Bishoprick stretching from the Thames to the Humber, was conferred by the King on one of his Norman chaplains, who however bore the Scandinavian name of Ulf. As to the utter unfitness of this man for such an office there is an universal consent among our authorities. The King, even the holy Eadward, did evil in appointing him; the new Prelate did nought bishoplike; it were shame to tell more of his deeds.[346]

The year which followed was one of great note in ecclesiastical history. In England the first event recorded is |Witenagemót of London. Midlent, 1050.| the usual meeting of the Witan in London at Midlent. The proceedings of this Gemót, like those of many others about this time, give us a glimpse of that real, though very imperfect, parliamentary life which was then growing up in England, and which the Norman Conquest threw back for many generations. Then, as now, there were economists pressing for the reduction of the public expenditure, and what we should now call the Navy Estimates were chosen as being no doubt a popular subject for attack. The narrative of the naval events of the last year shows that, on special occasions, naval contingents were called for, according to the old law,[347] from various parts of the Kingdom, but that the King still kept a small naval force |Reduction of the Fleet.| in constant pay. This force had, under Cnut and Harold, consisted of sixteen ships;[348] it seems now to have consisted only of fourteen. The experience of the last year showed that England was still open to attack from the West; but the great fear, fear of invasion from the North, had now quite passed away. It seemed therefore to be a favourable moment for further reductions. By the authority of this Gemót nine ships were accordingly paid off, the crews receiving a year’s pay, and the standing force was cut down to six.[349] It was in this same assembly that Swegen |Swegen inlawed.| was inlawed,[350] that is, his outlawry was reversed, by the intercession of Bishop Ealdred. That Prelate, as we have seen, seems to have gone over to Flanders, and to have brought Swegen back with him.[351]

Mission of Ealdred and Hermann to Rome.

But Ealdred had soon to set forth on a longer journey. He and the Lotharingian Bishop Hermann were now sent to Rome on the King’s errand.[352] What that errand was we learn only from legendary writers and doubtful charters, but, as their accounts completely fit in with the authentic history, we need not scruple to |The King’s vow of pilgrimage to Rome.| accept their general outline.[353] The King had in his youth vowed a pilgrimage to Rome, and the non-fulfilment of this vow lay heavy on his conscience. It probably lay heavier still when he saw so many of his subjects of all ranks, led by the fashionable enthusiasm of the time, making both the pilgrimage to Rome and also the more distant pilgrimage to Jerusalem.[354] A broken vow was a crime; still Eadward had enough of political sense and right feeling left to see that his absence from his Kingdom at such a time as the present would be a criminal forsaking of his kingly duty. The Great Cnut might venture on such a journey; his eye could see and his hand could act from Rome or Norway or any other part of the world. But the personal presence of Eadward was the only check by which peace could be for a moment preserved between the true sons of the soil, and the strangers |Eadward sends the Bishops to obtain a dispensation. 1050.| who were eating into its vitals. The King laid his case before his Witan; the unanimous voice of the Assembly forbade him to forsake his post; the legend adds that the Witan farther counselled him to satisfy his conscience by obtaining a Papal dispensation from his vow. This was the King’s errand on which Ealdred and Hermann were sent to attend the great synod[355] held this year at Rome. They made good speed with their journey; starting at |The Synod of Rome.| Midlent, they reached the Holy City on Easter Eve.[356] In that synod they stood face to face with a man then known |Lanfranc.| only as a profound scholar and theologian, the bulwark of orthodoxy and the pattern of every monastic virtue, but who was, in years to come, to hold a higher place in the English hierarchy, and to leave behind him a far greater name in English history, than either of the English Prelates whose blessing he may now have humbly craved. In that synod of Rome the doctrines of Berengar of Tours were debated by the assembled Fathers, and the foremost champion of the faith to which Rome still cleaves was Lanfranc of Pavia. Suspected of complicity with the heretic, he produced the famous letter in which Berengar had maintained the Eucharist to be a mere figure of the Body of Christ.[357] How far Ealdred or Hermann took part in these theological debates we know not; but they are said to have successfully accomplished their own errand. The King’s vow of pilgrimage was dispensed with, on condition of the rebuilding and endowment on a grander scale of that renowned West Minster whose name was to be inseparably bound together with that of the sainted King.[358] Before the year was out the unwearied Leo held |Synod of Vercelli.| another synod at Vercelli. Here the theological controversy was again raised, and Lanfranc again shone forth as the irresistible smiter of heresy. Berengar was finally condemned, notwithstanding his appeals to the elder teaching of John Scotus, and his protests that those who rejected John Scotus rejected Augustine, Jerome, Ambrose, and all the Fathers of the Church.[359] These disputes, renowned in the Church at large, are wholly passed over by our insular Chroniclers. To them the famous Synod of Vercelli seems to have been memorable only as showing the Roman Court in what was apparently a new relation towards the Prelacy of England. Before the assembled Fathers came |Confirmation of Ulf of Dorchester.| the newly appointed Bishop of Dorchester, Ulf the Norman, seeking, it would seem, for consecration or confirmation. His unfitness for his post was manifest; he was found incapable of going through the ordinary service of the Church. The Synod was on the point of deposing him, of breaking the staff which, according to the ceremonial of those times, he had already received from the King. But the influence which was already all-powerful at Rome saved him. He retained his Bishoprick; but only at the cost of a lavish expenditure of treasure, of which we may be sure that no portion found its way into the private |Possible pilgrimage of Macbeth.| coffers of Leo.[360] It was in this same year that Macbeth made that mysterious bestowal of alms or bribes at Rome from which some have inferred a personal pilgrimage on the part of the Scottish usurper.[361] It is not beyond the bounds of possibility that one who seems to us hardly more real than the creations of Grecian tragedy may have personally appeared at Rome or at Vercelli, that he may have shown his pious indignation at the heresies of the Canon of Tours, or have felt his soul moved within him at the incapacity of the Bishop of Dorchester. A personal meeting between Leo, Lanfranc, Ealdred, and Macbeth would form no unimpressive scene in the hands of those who may venture on liberties with the men of far-gone times which to the historian are forbidden.

Ealdred and Hermann thus came back from Rome with the wished for dispensation from the King, and Ulf came back from Vercelli to hold the great see of Mid-England, and to rule it in his unbishoplike fashion for a little time. |Death of Archbishop Eadsige. October 9, 1050.| But before long a still greater ecclesiastical preferment became vacant. Eadsige, who had so lately resumed his archiepiscopal functions, died before the end of the year.[362] The day of complete triumph for the Norman monks and chaplains who surrounded Eadward now seemed to have come. A Frenchman might now sit on the throne of Augustine. Patriotic Englishmen were of course proportionably alarmed, and among them none more so than those who were most immediately concerned, the Chapter of the metropolitan church. The monks of Christ Church met, and made what is called a canonical election.[363] In the eye of English law such a process was little more than a petition to the King and his Witan for the appointment of the man of their choice. That choice fell on a member of their own body, their selection of whom showed that seclusion from the world had not made them incapable of a happy union of the dove |The monks of Christ Church elect Ælfric.| and the serpent. There was in their house a monk, Ælfric by name, who had been brought up in the monastery from his childhood, and who enjoyed the love of the whole society. Notwithstanding his monastic education, he was held to be specially skilled in the affairs of the world. And he had a further merit as likely as any of the others to weigh either with an English Chapter or with an English Witenagemót; he was a near kinsman of Earl Godwine.[364] The monks petitioned the Earl, the natural patron of a corporation within his government, to use his influence to obtain the King’s confirmation of their choice.[365] Godwine was doubtless nothing loth to avail himself of so honourable an opportunity to promote an Englishman and a kinsman. But his influence was crumbling away. Four years before he had been able to obtain the confirmation of Siward as Eadsige’s coadjutor; he was now unable to obtain the confirmation of Ælfric, or of any other man of native birth, |Ælfric rejected by the King, and Robert Bishop of London appointed to the see of Canterbury. Midlent, 1051.| as Eadsige’s successor. The saintly King paid no regard to the canonical election of the Convent, and in the Midlent Witenagemót of the next year, the Archbishoprick of Canterbury was bestowed on the King’s French favourite, Robert, Bishop of London.[366] The national party however prevailed so far as to secure an English successor |Spearhafoc appointed to London, and Rudolf to the Abbey of Abingdon.| to the see which Robert vacated. Spearhafoc, Abbot of Abingdon, a man famous for his skill in the goldsmith’s craft,[367] was named to the see of London by the King’s writ under his seal.[368] The Abbacy of Abingdon was given to a man whose description raises our curiosity; he was one Rudolf, described as a kinsman of King Eadward and as a Bishop in Norway.[369] For a native Northman to have been a kinsman of the son of Æthelred and Emma is hardly possible, unless the common ancestor was to be looked for so far back as the days before the settlement of Rolf. A Norman is hardly likely to have desired or obtained preferment in so unpromising a land; but it is highly probable that Cnut, who appointed several Englishmen to Bishopricks in Denmark, may have made use of a see in Norway either to reward or to remove some remote and unrecorded member of the English royal family. It is therefore very probable that Rudolf may have been an Englishman.[370] He was an aged man and weary of his office. The hand of Harold Hardrada pressed heavily on the Church. Pilgrim of the Holy Sepulchre as he was, he is charged with destroying ecclesiastical buildings, and even with sending Christian men to martyrdom.[371] Rudolf sought and found a place of more quiet, if of somewhat less honour, in the dominions of his kinsman. The monks of Abingdon received him, not very willingly, it would seem, but they were won over by the prospect that the old man would not live very long, and by the King’s promise that at the next vacancy free election should be allowed.[372] Presently the new Archbishop |Robert returns from Rome. July 27, 1051.| Robert came back from Rome with his pallium; he was enthroned in the metropolitan church, and soon hastened to the royal presence.[373] Spearhafoc, the Bishop-elect of London, came with the royal writ, and demanded |He refuses to consecrate Spearhafoc.| consecration of his Metropolitan. Robert refused, saying that the Pope had forbidden him to consecrate Spearhafoc.[374] Things had come to such a pass, that an Englishman, appointed to an English office by the King and his Witan, was to be kept out of its full possession by one foreigner acting at the alleged bidding of another. There were times when the Roman see showed itself a real refuge for the oppressed, and, as far as good intentions went, so it doubtless was in the days of good Pope Leo. But Englishmen now needed protection against no one except against the foreign favourites of their own King, and it was on behalf of those foreign favourites, and against Englishmen, that these stretches of Papal authority were now made. The unworthy Ulf was allowed, by the power of bribes, to retain his see—for he was a stranger. Spearhafoc, on what ground we know not—except so far as his English birth was doubtless a crime in the eyes of Robert—was refused the rite which alone could put him into full possession of his office. A second demand was again made by the Bishop-elect, and consecration was again refused |Spearhafoc occupies the Bishoprick without consecration.| by the Norman Archbishop.[375] Spearhafoc, rejected, unconsecrated, nevertheless went to Saint Paul’s, and took possession of the see which he held by the King’s full and regular grant.[376] No doubt he did not pretend to discharge any purely episcopal functions, but he kept possession of the see and its revenues, and probably exercised at least its temporal authority. This he did, the Chronicler significantly adds, all that summer and autumn.[377] Before the year was out, the crisis had come, and had brought with it the momentary triumph of the strangers.

One act more must be recorded before we come to the end of this portion of Eadward’s reign. In a meeting of the Witan, seemingly that in which Robert, Spearhafoc, |The remaining ships paid off and the Heregyld remitted.| and Rudolf received their several appointments, the remaining five ships of the standing or mercenary naval force were paid off.[378] The war-contribution or Heregyld was therefore no longer exacted. This tax had now been |1012.| paid for thirty-eight years, ever since Thurkill and his fleet entered the service of Æthelred.[379] This impost had all along been felt to be a great burthen; we are told that it was paid before all other taxes, the other taxes themselves, it would seem, being looked upon as heavy.[380] The glimpse which is thus given us of the financial system of the time is just enough to make us wish for fuller knowledge. We must remember that in a rude state of society any kind of taxation is apt to be looked on as a grievance. It requires a very considerable political developement for a nation to feel that the power of the purse is the surest safeguard of freedom. But there must have been something specially hateful about this tax to account for the way in which it is spoken of by the contemporary chroniclers, and for the hold which, as the legends show,[381] it kept on the popular imagination. The holy King, we are told, in company with Earl Leofric, one day entered the treasury in which the money raised by the tax was collected; he there saw the Devil sitting and playing with the coin; warned by the sight, he at once |Distinction between Danegeld and Heregyld.| remitted the tax. In this story the tax is called Danegeld, and as many of the sailors in the English service were likely to be Danes, the Heregyld seems to have been confounded with the Danegeld, and to have been popularly called by that name.[382] The Danegeld was in strictness a payment made to buy off the ravages of Danish invaders, a practice of which we have seen instances enough and to spare in the days of Æthelred. But the tax now taken off was simply a war-tax for the maintenance of a fleet, a fleet whose crews may have been to a great extent Danes, but Danes who were not the enemies of England, but engaged in her service. The two ideas however easily ran into one another; it might be difficult to say under which head we ought to place some of the payments made both under Cnut and under Harthacnut. But the Heregyld, in its more innocent shape, would, according to modern ideas, be an impost absolutely necessary for the defence of the country. If the tax were remitted, no naval force would be retained, except the contingents of the shires, which could not in any case be very readily forthcoming. But, besides the general dislike to taxation |Import of the remission.| of any kind, this particular tax was a painful and hateful badge of national disgrace. It was a memory of times when England could find no defence against strangers except by taking other strangers into her pay. Its remission was doubtless looked on as a declaration that England no longer needed the services of strangers, or of hired troops of any kind, but that she could trust to the ready patriotism and valour of her own sons. The Law required every Englishman to join the royal standard at the royal summons.[383] The effectual execution of that law was doubtless held to be a truer safeguard than the employment of men, whether natives or strangers, who served only for their pay. Such reasonings had their weak side even in those days, but they were eminently in the spirit of the time. The measure was undoubtedly a popular one, and we are hardly in a position to say that, under the circumstances of the time, it may not have been a wise one.

§ 4. The Banishment of Earl Godwine. 1051.

The foreign influence at its height.

The influence of the strangers had now reached its height. As yet it has appeared on the face of the narrative mainly in the direction given to ecclesiastical preferments. During the first nine years of Eadward’s reign, we find no signs of any open warfare between the national and the Normannizing parties. The course of events shows that Godwine’s power was being practically undermined, but he was still outwardly in the enjoyment of royal favour, and his vast possessions were still being added to by royal grants.[384] It is remarkable how seldom, at this stage of Eadward’s reign, the acts of the Witan bear the signatures of any foreigners except churchmen.[385] We meet also with slight indications showing that the King’s foreign kinsmen and the national leaders were not yet on |Its seemingly stealthy character.| terms of open enmity.[386] It was probably the policy of the strangers to confine their action in public matters to influencing the King’s mind through his ecclesiastical favourites, while the mass of them were gradually providing in other ways for their own firm establishment in the land. But the tale which I now have to tell clearly reveals the fact that the number of French landowners in England was already considerable, and that they had made themselves deeply hateful to the English people. Stealthily but surely, the foreign favourites of Eadward had eaten into the vitals of England, and they soon had the means of showing how bitter was the hatred which they bore towards the champions of English freedom. |Comparison between Danish and Norman influences.| England now, under a native King of her own choice, felt, far more keenly than she had ever felt under her Danish conqueror, how great the evil is when a King and those who immediately surround him are estranged in feeling from the mass of his people. The great Dane had gradually learned to feel and to reign as an Englishman, to trust himself to the love of his English subjects, and to surround the throne of the conqueror with the men whom his own axe and spear had overcome. Even during the troubled reigns of his two sons, the degeneracy was for the most part merely personal. Harthacnut indeed laid on heavy and unpopular taxes for the payment of his Danish fleet;[387] but it does not appear that, even under him, Englishmen as Englishmen were subjected to systematic oppression and insult on the part of strangers. And, after all, the Danish followers of Cnut and his sons were men of kindred blood and speech. They could hardly be looked on in any part of England as aliens in the strictest sense, while to the inhabitants of a large part of the Kingdom they appeared as actual countrymen. But now, as a foretaste of what was to come fifteen years later, men utterly strange in speech and feeling stood around the throne, engrossed the personal favour of the King, perverted the course of justice, shared among themselves the highest places in the Church, and were already beginning to stretch out their hands to English lands and lordships as well as to English Bishopricks. The Dane, once brought to the knowledge of a purer faith and a higher civilization, soon learned to identify himself with the land in which he had settled, and to live as an Englishman |Incapacity of the French to appreciate English institutions.| under the Law of England. But to the French favourites of Eadward the name, the speech, the laws of England were things on which their ignorant pride looked down with utter contempt. They had no sympathy with that great fabric of English liberty, which gave to every freeman his place in the commonwealth, and even to the slave held out the prospect of freedom. Gentlemen of the school of Richard the Good,[388] taught to despise all beneath them as beings of an inferior nature, could not understand the spirit of a land where the Churl had his rights before the Law, where he could still raise his applauding voice in the Assemblies of the nation, and where men already felt as keenly as we feel now that an Englishman’s house is his castle. Everything in short which had already made England free and glorious, everything which it is now our pride and happiness to have preserved down to our own times, was looked on by the foreign counsellors of Eadward as a mark of manifest inferiority and barbarism. |Diversity in speech;| The Dane spoke a tongue which hardly differed more widely from our own than the dialects of different parts of the Kingdom differed from one another. But the ancient mother-speech, once common to Dane and Frank and Angle and Saxon, the speech of which some faint traces may still have lingered at Laôn and at Bayeux, had now become only one of many objects of contempt in the eyes of men whose standards were drawn from the |in military tactics.| Romanized courts of Rouen and Paris. The Dane met the Englishman in battle, face to face and hand to hand, with the same tactics and the same weapons. Shield-wall to shield-wall, sword to sword or axe to axe, had men waged the long warfare which had ranged from the fight |871–1016.| of Reading to the fight of Assandun. To the Frenchman the traditions of Teutonic warfare appeared contemptible.[389] His trust was placed, not in the stout heart and the strong arm of the warrior, but in the horse which is as useful in the flight as in the charge, and in the arrow which places the coward and the hero upon a level.[390] Men brought up in such feelings as these, full too no doubt of the insolent and biting wit of their nation, now stood round the throne of the King of the English. They were not as yet, to any great extent, temporal rulers of the land, but they had already begun to be owners of its soil; they were already the Fathers of the Church; they were the personal friends of the King; they were the channels of royal favour; their influence could obtain the highest ecclesiastical office, when it was refused alike to the demand of the Earl of the West-Saxons and to the prayer of the canonical electors. In the company of these men the King was at home; among his own people he was a |Evils of a denationalized Court, especially in early times.| stranger. The sight of a denationalized Court, a Court where the national tongue is despised and where the sounds of a foreign speech are alone thought worthy of royal lips, a Court in which the heart of the sovereign beats more warmly for foreign favourites or foreign kinsmen than for the children of the soil, is a sight which in any age is enough to stir up a nation’s blood. But far heavier is the wrong in an age when Kings govern as well as reign, when it is not the mere hangers-on of a Court, but the nation itself, which is made personally to feel that strangers fill the posts of honour and influence, on its own soil and at its own cost. Often indeed since the days of Eadward has the Court of England been the least English thing within the realm of England. But, for ages past, no sovereign, however foreign in blood or feeling, could have ventured to place a stranger, ignorant of the English tongue, on the patriarchal throne of Dunstan and |Revolt of England against the foreign influence.| Ælfheah. Against such a state of things as this the heart of England rose. And the soul of the patriotic movement, the leader of the patriotic struggle, was the man whom Norman calumny has ever since picked out as its special victim, but with whom every true English heart was prepared to live and die. The man who strove for England, the man who for a while suffered for England, but who soon returned in triumph to rescue England, was once more Godwine, Earl of the West-Saxons.

Indignation at the appointment of Robert to Canterbury.

The refusal of the King to confer the Archbishoprick of Canterbury on a kinsman of the great Earl regularly chosen by the Convent of the metropolitan church, its bestowal instead on an intriguing monk from Jumièges, had no doubt deeply embittered the feelings of Godwine and of all true Englishmen. All the sons of the Church, we are told, lamented the wrong;[391] and we may be sure that the feeling was in no way confined to those who are no doubt chiefly intended by that description. It now became the main object of the foreign Archbishop to bring about the ruin of the English Earl. Robert employed his |Robert’s cabals against Godwine. 1051.| influence with the King to set him still more strongly against his father-in-law, to fill his ears with calumnies against him, above all, to bring up again the old charge, of which Godwine had been so solemnly acquitted, which made him an accomplice in the death of Ælfred.[392] A dispute about the right to some lands which adjoined the estates both of the Earl and of the Primate further embittered the dissension between them.[393] Godwine’s influence was manifestly fast giving way, and an open struggle was becoming imminent. Just at this moment, an act of foreign insolence and brutality which surpassed anything which had hitherto happened brought the whole matter to a crisis.

Marriages of Godgifu daughter of Æthelred with Drogo of Mantes and Eustace of Boulogne.

We have seen that Eadward’s sister Godgifu—the Goda of Norman writers—the daughter of Æthelred and Emma, had been married to Drogo, Count of Mantes or of the French Vexin. Their son, Ralph the Timid, was now high in favour at the court of his uncle.[394] Drogo had accompanied Duke Robert on his pilgrimage, and, like him, had died on his journey.[395] His widow, who must now have been a good deal past her prime,[396] had nevertheless found a second French husband in Eustace, Count of Boulogne. This prince, whom English history sets before us only in the darkest colours, was fated by a strange destiny to be the father of one of the noblest heroes of Christendom, of Godfrey, Duke of Lotharingia and King of Jerusalem. We cannot however claim the great Crusader as one who had English blood in his veins through either parent. The second marriage of Godgifu was childless, and the renowned sons of Eustace, Godfrey and his brother Baldwin, were the children of his second |Visit of Eustace to Eadward. September, 1051.| wife Ida. The Count of Boulogne, now brother-in-law of the King of the English, presently came, like the rest of the world, to the English Court. The exact object of his coming is not recorded, but we are told that whatever he came for he got.[397] Some new favours were doubtless won for foreign followers, and some share of the wealth of England for himself. It was now September, and the King, as seems to have been his custom, was spending the autumn at Gloucester.[398] Thither then came Count Eustace, and, after his satisfactory interview |Return of Eustace.| with the King, he turned his face homewards. We have no account of his journey till he reached Canterbury;[399] there he halted, refreshed himself and his men, and rode on towards Dover. Perhaps, in a land so specially devoted to Godwine, he felt himself to be still more thoroughly in an enemy’s country than in other parts of England. At all events, when they were still a few miles from Dover, the Count and all his company took the precaution of putting on their coats of mail.[400] They entered |Outrages of Eustace and his party at Dover.| the town; accustomed to the unbridled licence of their own land, puffed up no doubt by the favourable reception which they had met with at the King’s Court, they deemed that the goods and lives of Englishmen were at their mercy. Who was the villain or the burgher who could dare to refuse ought to a sovereign prince, the friend and brother-in-law of the Emperor of Britain? Men born on English soil, accustomed to the protection |1020–1051.| of English Law, men who for one and thirty years[401] had lived under the rule of Godwine, looked on matters in quite another light. The Frenchmen expected to find free quarters in the town of Dover, and they attempted to lodge themselves at their pleasure in the houses of the burghers. There was one Englishman especially—his name unluckily is not preserved—into whose house a Frenchman was bent on forcing himself against the |The burghers resist,| owner’s will. The master of the house resisted; the stranger drew his weapon and wounded him; the Englishman struck the intruder dead on the spot.[402] Count Eustace mounted his horse as if for battle;[403] his followers mounted theirs, the stout-hearted Englishman was slain within his own house. The Count’s party then rode through the town, cutting about them and slaying at pleasure. But the neighbours of the murdered man had now come together; the burghers resisted valiantly; a |and drive the French out of the town.| skirmish began; twenty Englishmen were slain, and nineteen Frenchmen, besides many who were wounded. Count Eustace and the remnant of his party made their way out of the town, and hastened back to King Eadward at Gloucester. |Eustace accuses the men of Dover to the King.| They there told the story after their own fashion, throwing of course all the blame upon the insolent burghers of Dover.[404] It is not hard to throw oneself into the position of the accusers. To chivalrous Frenchmen the act of the English burgher in defending his house against a forcible entry would seem something quite beyond their understandings. To their notions the appeal to right and law to which Englishmen were familiar, would seem, on the part of men of inferior rank, something almost out of the course of nature. We often see the same sort of feeling now-a-days in men whom a long course of military habits, a life spent in the alternation of blind obedience and arbitrary command, has made incapable of understanding those notions of right and justice which seem perfectly plain to men who are accustomed to acknowledge no master but the Law.[405] The crime of Eustace was a dark one; but we may be inclined to pass a heavier judgement still on the crime of the English King, who, on the mere accusation of the stranger, condemned his own subjects without a hearing. When Eustace had told his tale, the King became very wroth with the burghers of Dover,[406] and this time he thought that he had not only the will |Eadward commands Godwine to inflict military chastisement on the town.| but the power to hurt.[407] He sent for Godwine, as Earl of the district in which the offending town lay. The English champion was then in the midst of a domestic rejoicing. He had, like the King, been strengthening himself by a foreign alliance, and had just connected his house with that of a sovereign prince. Tostig, the third son of Godwine, had just married Judith, the daughter or near kinswoman of Baldwin of Flanders.[408] Such a marriage could hardly have been contracted without a political object. An alliance with a prince reigning in the debateable land between France and Germany, a land which, though its princes were rapidly becoming French, had by no means wholly lost its Teutonic character, was quite in harmony with the Lotharingian connexion so steadily maintained by Godwine and Harold. At the same time, an alliance with a prince who had been so lately in arms against England may not have tended to increase Godwine’s favour with the King. The Earl left the marriage-feast of his son, and hastened to the King at Gloucester. Eadward then told him what insults had been offered within his Earldom to a sovereign allied to himself by friendship and marriage. Let Godwine go, and subject the offending town to all the severity of military chastisement.[409] Godwine had once before been sent on the like |Comparison between the cases of Worcester under Harthacnut and Dover under Eadward.| errand in the days of Harthacnut.[410] He had then not dared to refuse, though he had done what he could to lighten the infliction of a harsh and unjust sentence. And, after all, the two cases were not alike. In the case of Worcester, Godwine was required to act as a military commander against a town which was not within his government, and whose citizens stood in no special relation to him. The citizens of Worcester too had been guilty of a real crime. Their crime was indeed one which might readily have been pardoned, and the punishment decreed was out of all proportion to the offence. Still the death of the two Housecarls fairly called for some atonement, though certainly not for an atonement of the kind commanded by Harthacnut. At that time too it was probably sound policy in Godwine to undertake the commission in which he was joined with the other great Earls of England, and merely to do his best to lighten its severity in act. But in the present case all the circumstances were different. Dover was a town in Godwine’s own Earldom; it would almost seem that it was a town connected with him by a special tie, a town whose burghers formed a part of his personal following.[411] At all events it was a town over which he exercised the powers of the highest civil magistracy, where, if it was his duty to punish the guilty, it was equally his duty to defend and shelter the innocent. Such a town he was now bidden, without the least legal proof of any offence, to visit with all the horrors of fire and sword. Godwine was not long |Godwine refuses to obey the King’s orders.| in choosing his course. Official duty and public policy, no less than abstract justice and humanity, dictated a distinct refusal. Now or never a stand was to be made against the strangers. Now that Englishmen had been insulted and murdered by the King’s foreign favourites, the time was indeed come to put an end to a system under which those favourites were beginning to deal with England as with a conquered country. The eloquent voice of |He demands a legal trial for the burghers.| the great Earl was raised, in the presence of the King, probably in the presence of Eustace and the other strangers, in the cause of truth and justice.[412] In England, he told them, there was a Law supreme over all, and courts in which justice could be denied to no man. Count Eustace had brought a charge against the men of Dover. They had, as he alleged, broken the King’s peace, and done personal wrong to himself and his companions. Let then the magistrates of the town be summoned before the King and his Witan, and there be heard in their own defence and in that of their fellow-burghers. If they could make a good excuse for their conduct, let them depart unhurt; if they could be proved to have sinned against the King or against the Count, let them pay for their fault with their purses or with their persons. He, as Earl of the West-Saxons, was the natural protector of the men of Dover; he would never agree to any sentence pronounced against them without a fair trial, nor would he consent to the infliction of any sort of illegal hardship upon those whom he was bound to defend. The Earl then went his way; he had done his own duty; he was accustomed to these momentary ebullitions of wrath on the part of his royal son-in-law, and he expected that the affair would soon be forgotten.[413]

But there were influences about Eadward which cut off all hope of any such peaceful settlement of the matter. Eustace probably still lingered about the King, to repeat his own story, to enlarge on the insolence of the men of Dover, and on the disobedience—he would call it the |Archbishop Robert excites the King against Godwine.| treason—of the West-Saxon Earl himself. And there was another voice ever at the royal ear, ever ready to poison the royal mind against the English people and their leader. The foreign monk who sat on the throne of so many English saints again seized the opportunity to revive the calumnies of past times. He once more impressed upon the King that the man who refused to obey his orders, the man who had protected, perhaps excited, rebellious burghers against his dearest friends, was also the man who had, years before, betrayed his brother to a death of torment.[414] The old and the new charges worked |The Witan summoned to Gloucester to hear charges against Godwine.| together on the King’s mind, and he summoned a Meeting of the Witan at Gloucester, to sit in judgement, no longer on the men of Dover, who seem by this time to have been forgotten, but on Godwine himself.[415] The Earl now saw that he must be prepared for all risks. And, just at this moment, another instance of the insolence and violence of the foreigners in another part of the Kingdom served |Building of Richard’s Castle in Herefordshire.| to stir up men’s minds to the highest pitch. Among the Frenchmen who flocked to the land of promise was one named Richard the son of Scrob, who had received a grant of lands in Herefordshire. He and his son Osbern had there built a castle on a spot which, by a singularly lasting tradition, preserves to this day the memory of himself and his building.[416] The fortress itself has vanished, but its site is still to be marked, and the name of Richard’s Castle, still borne by the parish in which it stood, is an abiding witness of the deep impression which its erection made on the minds of the men of those times. |Import of the building of castles.| The building of castles is something of which the English writers of this age frequently speak, and speak always with a special kind of horror.[417] Both the name and the thing were new. To fortify a town, to build a citadel to protect a town, were processes with which England had long been familiar.[418] To contribute to such necessary public works was one of the three immemorial obligations from which no Englishman could free himself.[419] But for a private landowner to raise a private fortress to be the terror of his neighbours was something to which Englishmen had hitherto been unaccustomed, and for such a structure the English language had hitherto contained no name. But now the tall, square, massive donjon of the Normans, a building whose grandest type is to be seen in the Conqueror’s own Tower of London and in the more enriched keep of Rochester, began, doubtless on a far humbler scale, to rear itself over the dwellings of Englishmen. Normandy had, during the minority of William, been covered with such buildings, and his wise policy had levelled many of them with the ground.[420] Such buildings, strange to English eyes, bore no English name, but retained their French designation of castles.[421] Such a castle at once became a centre of all kinds of oppression. Men were harboured in it, and deeds were done within its impregnable walls, such as could find no place in the open hall of the ancient English Thegn. So it was with the castle which was now raised within the government of the eldest son of Godwine. The Welshmen, as they are called—that is, not Britons, but Frenchmen, Gal-Welsh, not Bret-Welsh—built their castle, and “wrought all the harm and besmear”—an expressive word which has dropped out of the language—“to the King’s men thereabouts that they might.”[422] Here then was another wrong, a wrong perhaps hardly second to the wrong which had been done at Dover. Alike in Kent and in Herefordshire men had felt the sort of treatment which they were to expect if the King’s foreign favourites were to be any longer tolerated. The time was now come for Englishmen to make a stand.

Godwine and his sons meet at Beverstone with the force of their Earldoms.

The Earl of the West-Saxons was not a man to be wanting to his country at such a moment. He, with his sons Swegen and Harold, gathered together the force of their three Earldoms at Beverstone in Gloucestershire. This is a point on the Cotswolds, not far from the Abbey of Malmesbury, still marked by a castle of far later date, the remaining fragments of which form one of the most remarkable antiquities of the district. At this time it seems to have been a royal possession, and it may not unlikely have contained a royal house, which would probably be at the disposal of Swegen as Earl of the shire.[423] At Beverstone then assembled the men of Wessex, of East-Anglia, and of that part of Mercia which was under the jurisdiction of Swegen. They came, it would seem, ready either for debate or for battle, as might happen. We must here again remember what the ancient constitution of our National Assemblies really was. If all actually came who had a strict right to come, the Gemót was a ready-made army. On the other hand we have seen that an army, gathered together as an army, sometimes took on itself |The forces of Siward, Leofric, and Ralph assemble at Gloucester.| the functions of a Gemót.[424] Meanwhile, while Godwine assembled his men at Beverstone, the forces of the Earldoms of Siward, Leofric, and Ralph were assembling round the King at Gloucester. Each of the two gatherings might pass for the local Witenagemót of one half of England. At the head of the men of three Earldoms Godwine was still bolder than when he had stood alone in the royal presence. He had then only refused to punish the innocent; he now demanded the punishment of the guilty. His first steps however were conciliatory. He first demanded an audience for himself and his sons, as Earls of the three Earldoms; they were ready and anxious to take counsel with the King and his Witan on all matters touching the honour of the King and his people.[425] He even offered to renew his compurgation on the old charge |Godwine’s offers to the King refused through the influence of Frenchmen.| of the death of Ælfred.[426] But the Frenchmen swarmed around the King; they filled his ears with the usual charges against Godwine and his sons; they assured him that the only object of the Earls was to betray him.[427] Eadward therefore refused the audience, and declined to receive the compurgation.[428] Godwine then took a higher |Godwine demands the surrender of Eustace and the other criminals. September 8, 1051.| tone; messages were sent in his name and in the name of the men of the three Earldoms, demanding the surrender of Eustace and his men and of the Frenchmen at Richard’s Castle.[429] The demand was a bold one; Godwine asked for the surrender of the person of a foreign prince, the King’s own favourite and brother-in-law. But the demand, if bold, was perfectly justifiable. The two parties of Frenchmen had been guilty of outrageous crimes within the jurisdictions of Godwine and Swegen respectively. The King, instead of bringing them to justice, was sheltering them, and even listening to their charges against innocent men. Their lawful judges, the Earls of the two districts, were ready, at the head of the Witan of their Earldoms, to do that justice which the King had refused. The demand was seemingly backed by threats of an appeal to that last argument by which unrighteous rulers must be brought to reason. Godwine and his followers threatened war against Eadward, as the later Barons of England threatened war against John.[430] The King was frightened and perplexed. |The Northern Earls bring their full forces.| He sent to hasten the coming of Siward, Leofric, and Ralph, and bade them bring a force strong enough to keep Godwine and his party in check. Seemingly they had at first brought or sent only a small body of men; when they heard the full state of the case, they hastened to the King with the whole force of their Earldoms, and restored confidence to his timid mind.[431] This was the sort of occasion which was sure to awaken those provincial jealousies which in that age were often lulled to sleep, but which were never completely got rid of. The northern and southern parts of England were again arrayed against |1035.| each other, just as they had been in the great Gemót of Oxford sixteen years before.[432] The French followers of Ralph and the French friends of Eadward were doubtless glad of any excuse to shed the blood or to seize the lands of Englishmen. Siward and his Danes were seemingly not displeased with a state of things in which jealousy of the West-Saxon Earl could be so honourably cloaked under the guise of loyalty to the West-Saxon King. They were therefore quite ready to play into the hands of the strangers. They |The King finally refuses to surrender the Frenchmen.| were still on their march, but seemingly close to the town, when Eadward gave his final answer to the messengers of Godwine; Eustace and the other accused persons should not be given up. The messengers had hardly left Gloucester, |The Northumbrians ready for battle.| when the Northern host entered the city, eager to be led to battle against the men of Wessex and East-Anglia.[433] Godwine and his followers saw by this time that there was little hope of bringing the King to reason by peaceful means. Every offer tending to reconciliation had been spurned; every demand of the Earls and their people had been refused. The punishment of the innocent had been commanded; the punishment of the guilty had been denied; the old charges, of which Godwine had been so |1040.| solemnly acquitted eleven years before, were again raked up against him by the slanderous tongue of a foreign |March of the West-Saxons and East-Angles on Gloucester.| priest. Loath as the Earl and his followers were to fight against their Lord the King,[434] they saw no hope but in an appeal to arms, and the men of the three Earldoms made themselves ready for battle. From the heights of the Cotswolds on which they had been gathered, they marched down the hill-side which overlooks the fairest and most fertile of English valleys.[435] The broad Severn wound through the plain beneath them; beyond its sandy flood rose, range beyond range, the hills which guarded the land of the still unconquered Briton. Far away, like a glimpse of another world, opened the deep vale of the Welsh Axe,[436] the mountain land of Brecheiniog, where, in the furthest distance, the giant Beacons soar, vast and dim, the mightiest natural fortress of the southern Cymry. Even then some glimpses of days to come may have kindled the soul of Harold, as he looked forth on the land which was, before many years, to ring with his renown, and to see his name engraved as conqueror on the trophies of so many battle-fields. They passed by relics of unrecorded antiquity, by fortresses and tombs reared by the hands of men who had been forgotten before the days of Ceawlin, some perhaps even before the days of Cæsar. They passed by the vast hill-fort of Uleybury, where the Briton had bid defiance to the Roman invader. They passed by the huge mound, the Giants’-Chamber of the dead, covering the remains of men whose name and race had passed away, perhaps before even the Briton had fixed himself in the islands of the West.[437] Straight in their path rose the towers, in that day no doubt tall and slender, of the great minster of the city which was their goal, where their King sat a willing captive in the hands of the enemies of his people. And, still far beyond, rose other hills, the heights of Herefordshire and Shropshire, the blue range of Malvern and the far distant Titterstone, bringing the host as it were into the actual presence of the evil deeds with which the stranger was defiling that lovely region. Godwine had kept his watch on the heights of Beverstone, as Thrasyboulos had kept his on the heights of Phylê,[438] and he now came down, with the truest sons of England at his bidding, ready, as need might be, to strive for her freedom either in the debates of the Witan or in the actual |War hindered by the intervention of Leofric.| storm of battle. But there were now men in the King’s train at Gloucester who were not prepared to shed the blood of their countrymen in the cause of strangers. Eadward had now counsellors at his side who had no mind to push personal or provincial jealousy to the extent of treason to their common country. Earl Leofric had obeyed the command of the King, and had brought the force of Mercia to the royal muster at Gloucester. Some jealousies of Godwine may well have rankled in his breast, but love of his country was a stronger feeling still. He was not ready to sacrifice the champion of England to men who had trampled on every rule of English law and of natural right, men who seemed to deem it a crime if Englishmen refused to lie still and be butchered on their |He effects a compromise, and procures the adjournment of the Gemót.| hearth-stones. The good old Earl of the Mercians now, as ever,[439] stood forth as the representative of peace and compromise between extreme parties. The best men of England were arrayed in one host or the other. It were madness indeed for Englishmen to destroy one another, simply to hand over the land to its enemies without defence.[440] But, while two armed hosts stood ready for battle, there was no room for peaceful debate. Let both sides depart; let hostages be given on both sides, and let the Meeting of the Witan stand adjourned, to assemble again, after a few weeks, in another place. Meanwhile all enmities on either side should cease, and both sides should be held to be in full possession of the King’s peace and friendship.[441] The proposal of Leofric was accepted by both parties, and the Gemót was accordingly adjourned, to meet in London at Michaelmas.

Gemót of London. September 29, 1051.

The objects of Leofric in this momentary compromise were undoubtedly honourable and patriotic. But King Eadward and his foreign advisers seem to have been determined to make the most of the breathing-space thus given them for the damage of the national cause. The |Eadward appears at the head of an army.| King employed the time in collecting an army still more powerful than that which had surrounded him at Gloucester. He seems to have got together the whole force of Northumberland and Mercia, and to have summoned the immediate following of the King, the royal Housecarls, and perhaps the King’s immediate Thegns, even within Godwine’s own Earldom.[442] The King’s quarters were probably at his favourite palace of Westminster. Godwine came, accompanied by a large force of the men |The King’s demands of Godwine.| of his Earldom, to his own house in Southwark.[443] Several messages passed to and fro between him and the King. But it soon became clear that, though the King’s full peace and friendship had been assured to Godwine, there was no intention in the royal councils of showing him any favour, or even of treating him with common justice. The two parties had separated at Gloucester on equal terms. Each had been declared to be alike the King’s friends; each alike had given hostages to the other; the matters at issue between them were to be fairly discussed in the adjourned Gemót. Instead of this agreement being carried out, Godwine and his sons found themselves dealt |The outlawry of Swegen renewed. Injustice of its renewal.| with as criminals. The first act of the Assembly, seemingly before Godwine and his sons had appeared at all, was to renew the outlawry of Swegen.[444] No act could be more unjust. His old crimes could no longer be brought up against him with any fairness. The time when they might have been rightly urged was on the motion for the repeal of his former outlawry.[445] But, whether wisely or unwisely, that outlawry had been legally reversed; Swegen had been restored to his Earldom, a restoration which of course implied the absolute pardon of all his former offences. Since that time, we hear of no fresh crime on his part, unless it were a crime to have been a fellow-worker with his father, his brother, and the men of his Earldom, in resistance to the wrongs inflicted by the strangers. To condemn Swegen afresh for his old offences was a flagrant breach of all justice; to condemn him for his late conduct was a breach of justice equally flagrant in another way. Besides this, his condemnation on this last ground would carry with it an equal condemnation of Godwine and Harold. Swegen then was outlawed, and that, |Godwine and Harold summoned before the King.| as far as we can see, without a hearing; and Godwine and Harold were summoned to appear before the King, seemingly as criminals to receive judgement. Bishop Stigand, in whose diocese Godwine was then living, procured some delay;[446] but Archbishop Robert took advantage of that very delay, still further to poison the King’s mind against the Earl.[447] Godwine, after the treatment which his eldest son had just received, declined to appear, unless he received an assurance of the King’s favour, guaranteed by the placing of special hostages in his hands, as pledges for his personal safety during the interview. The King’s answer was apparently a demand that the Earls should allow, or perhaps compel, all the King’s Thegns who had joined them, to go over to the King’s side.[448] The demand was at once obeyed. By this time the tide was clearly turning against Godwine, and the force which he had brought with him to Southwark |Final summons of the Earls.| was getting smaller and smaller.[449] The King again summoned the Earls to appear, with twelve companions only. We can hardly believe that Stigand was compelled, however against his will, to announce as a serious message to Godwine that the King’s final resolution was that Godwine could hope for his peace only when he restored to him his brother Ælfred and his companions safe and sound.[450] It is inconceivable that such words can have formed part of a formal summons, but it is quite possible that they may have been uttered in mockery, either by |Their demand for a safe-conduct is refused.| the King or by his Norman Archbishop. But whatever was the form of the summons, Godwine and Harold refused to appear, unless they received hostages and a safe-conduct for their coming and going.[451] Without such security they could not appear in an Assembly which had sunk into a mere gathering of their enemies.[452] They had obeyed, and would obey, the King in all things consistent with their safety and their honour. But both their safety and their honour would be at stake, if they appeared before such a tribunal without any sort of safeguard, and without their usual retinue as Earls of two great Earldoms.[453] The demand was perfectly reasonable.[454] Godwine and his son could not be expected to appear, without safeguards of any kind, in such an assembly as that which now surrounded the King. The adjourned Gemót had been summoned for the free and fair discussion of all disputes between two parties, each of which was declared to be in the full enjoyment of the King’s peace and friendship. It was now turned into a Court, in which one son of Godwine had been outlawed without a crime or a hearing, in which Godwine himself was summoned to receive judgement on charges on one of which he had been years before solemnly acquitted. The hostages and the safe-conduct were refused. The refusal was announced by Stigand to the Earl as he sat at his evening meal. The Bishop wept; the Earl sprang to his feet, overthrew the table,[455] sprang on his horse, and, with his sons, rode for his life all that night.[456] In the morning the King held his Witenagemót, |Godwine and his family outlawed.| and by a vote of the King and his whole army,[457] Godwine and his sons were declared outlaws, but five days were allowed them to get them out of the land.[458] By this |Godwine, Swegen, &c., take refuge in Flanders.| time Godwine, Swegen, Tostig, and Gyrth, together with Gytha and Judith, the newly-married wife of Tostig, had reached either Bosham or the South-Saxon Thorney.[459] There could be little doubt as to the course which they were to take. Flanders, Baldwines land, was the common refuge of English exiles, and Godwine and the Flemish Count are said to have been bound to one another by the tie of many mutual benefits.[460] It was at the court of Baldwin that Swegen had taken refuge in his exile, and the Count was the near kinsman, perhaps the father, of Tostig’s bride, whose wedding-festivities had been so cruelly interrupted by these sudden gatherings of Gemóts and armies.[461] For Bruges then they set sail in a ship laded with as much treasure as it would hold.[462] They reached the court of Flanders in safety; they were honourably received by the Count,[463] and passed the whole winter with him.[464]

Godwine then, with the greater part of his family,[465] had found shelter in the quarter where English exiles of that age commonly did find shelter. But two of his sons sought quite another refuge. To seek shelter in Flanders, a land forming the natural point of intercommunication between England, France, and Germany, was the obvious course for one whose first object, as we shall presently see, was to obtain his restoration by peaceful diplomacy. Such were the designs of Godwine, the veteran statesman, the man who never resorted to force till all other means |Harold determines on resistance.| had been tried in vain. But Harold, still young, and at all times more vehement in temper than his father, had not yet learned this lesson. His high spirit chafed under his wrongs, and he determined from the first on a forcible return to his country, even, if need be, by the help of a foreign force. This determination is the least honourable fact recorded in Harold’s life. It was indeed no |Estimate of his conduct.| more than was usual with banished men in his age. It is what we have already seen done by Osgod Clapa;[466] it is what we shall presently see done by Ælfgar the son of Leofric; it was in fact the natural resource of every man of those times who found himself outlawed by any sentence, just or unjust. If we judge Harold harshly in this matter, we are in fact doing him the highest honour. So to judge him is in fact instinctively to recognize that he has a right to be tried by a higher standard than the mass of his contemporaries. Judged by such a standard, his conduct must be distinctly condemned; but it should be noticed that, among the various charges, true and false, which were brought against Harold, we never find any reference to this, which, according to our ideas, seems |He determines to seek help from the Irish Danes.| the worst action of his life. In company with his young brother Leofwine,[467] he despised the peaceful shelter of Bruges, and preferred to betake himself to a land where, above all others, it would be easy to engage warlike adventurers in his cause. The eastern coast of Ireland, with the numerous towns peopled by Danish settlers, lay admirably suited for their purpose. Thither then |Harold and Leofwine go to Bristol; growing importance of that port.| the two brothers determined to make their way, with the fixed purpose of raising forces to effect their own return and to avenge their father’s wrongs.[468] For the port of their departure they chose Bristol, a town in Swegen’s Earldom, unknown to fame in the earlier days of our history, but which was now rising into great, though not very honourable, importance. The port on the Avon, the frontier stream of Wessex and Western Mercia, was the natural mart for a large portion of both those countries. Commanding, as it did, the whole navigation of the Channel to which it gives its name, Bristol was then, as now, the chief seat of communication between England and the South of Ireland. That is to say, it was in those days the chief seat of the Irish slave-trade.[469] In the haven of Bristol Earl Swegen had, for what cause we are not told, a ship made ready for himself.[470] The two brothers made the best of their way towards Bristol, in order to seize this ship for the purpose of their voyage to Ireland. Perhaps they had, wittingly or unwittingly, allowed their purpose of appealing to arms to |Ealdred sent to overtake them.| become known. This would be the only excuse for an act on the King’s part, which, in any other case, would be one of the most monstrous and unprovoked breaches of faith on record. It is not likely that the five days, which had been allowed the outlaws to leave the country, were yet passed. Harold and Leofwine would be sure to make better speed than that. Yet Bishop Ealdred, whose diocese of Worcester then took in the town of Bristol, was sent after them from London with a party to overtake them, if possible, before they got on ship-board. But the Bishop and his company were not zealous on an errand which had at least the appearance of shameless perfidy. They failed to overtake the fugitives; “they could not or they would not,” says the Chronicler.[471] Harold and |They escape, reach Ireland, and are well received by King Diarmid.| Leofwine reached Bristol in safety. They went on board Swegen’s ship; stress of weather kept them for a while at the mouth of the Avon, but a favourable wind presently carried them to Ireland.[472] They were there favourably received by Dermot or Diarmid Mac Mael-na-mbo, King of Dublin and Leinster.[473] He was a prince of native Irish descent, who had lately obtained possession of the Danish |1050.| district round Dublin, and whose authority seems to have been recognized by the Danes as well as by the Irish.[474] In such a state of things it would not be difficult to find bold spirits ready for any adventure, and a King whose position must have been somewhat precarious would doubtless welcome any chance of getting rid of some of them. Diarmid gave Harold and Leofwine as kind a reception at Dublin as the rest of the family had found from Baldwin at Bruges, and they stayed at his court through the whole winter, plotting schemes of vengeance.

The Lady Eadgyth sent to the Abbey of Wherwell.

One member only of the family of Godwine still remained to be disposed of. What had been the position or the feelings of Eadgyth during the scenes which have been just described we have no means of knowing; but she too was doomed to have her share in the misfortunes of her father’s house. The English Lady, the daughter of Godwine, could not be allowed to share the honours of royalty, now that all her kinsfolk were driven from the land,[475] now that the reign of the Normans was about to set in. The language of one contemporary authority seems almost to imply an actual divorce, of which Archbishop Robert was of course the main instigator.[476] The lawfulness or possibility of divorce in such a case might form a curious subject of speculation for those who are learned in the Canon Law. Eadward consented, perhaps willingly, to the separation; he allowed the Lady to be deprived of all her goods, real and personal;[477] but he interfered at least to save her from personal ignominy. Eadgyth was sent, with no lack of respect or royal attendance,[478] to the royal monastery of Wherwell,[479] and was there entrusted to the safe keeping of the Abbess. This Abbess was a sister of the King,[480] no doubt one of the daughters of Æthelred by his first wife. One of the widows of the slain and banished Earls, the relict of the traitor Eadric or of the hero Ulfcytel,[481] had taken the veil in the holy house of Eadgar and Ælfthryth,[482] and she could there confer with her guest on the uncertainty of human happiness and the emptiness of human greatness.

General character of the story; its difficulties.

The whole of this history of the fall of Godwine is most remarkable; and it is singular that, though it is told in great detail in three distinct accounts, so much still remains which is far from intelligible. The first point which at once strikes us is the strength of Godwine in the Gemót of Gloucester and his weakness in the Gemót of London. Next year indeed we shall see the tide turn yet again; we shall behold Godwine return in triumph with the good will of all England. This is of course no difficulty; it would be no difficulty, even if popular feeling had been thoroughly against Godwine during the former year. Englishmen welcomed Godwine back again, because they had learned what it was to be without him. But the change of Godwine’s position during that eventful September of which we have just gone through the history is certainly perplexing. At Beverstone and at Gloucester he appears at the head of the whole force of Wessex, East-Anglia, and part of Mercia. All are zealous in his cause, ready, if need be, to fight in his quarrel against the King himself. He is clearly not without well-wishers even in the ranks of the Northern |Sudden collapse of the power of Godwine.| Earldoms. A compromise is brought about in which his honour is carefully guarded, and in which his party and the King’s are studiously put on equal terms. In the London Gemót, a few weeks later, all is changed. His followers gradually drop away from him; he does not venture to take his place in the Assembly which he had so often swayed at his pleasure; he is dealt with as an accused, almost as a convicted, criminal; he is subjected with impunity to every sort of unjust and irritating treatment; and he is at last driven to flee from the land, without a blow being struck, almost without a voice being raised, in his behalf. Such a falling away is difficult to understand; it is hard to see how Godwine could have given fresh offence to any one in the time between the conference at Gloucester and his appearance at Southwark. Norman flatterers and talebearers may have fanned the King’s prejudice against him into a still hotter flame; but there is at first sight nothing to account for the desertion |Position of the Northern Earls.| of his own followers. As for the Northern Earls and their followers, they had no ground of jealousy against Godwine in London which they had not equally at Gloucester; and at Gloucester they clearly were not disposed to push matters to extremities. Still it was clearly the number and strength of the following of Siward and Leofric in the London Gemót which decided the day against Godwine. The Earl of the West-Saxons was entrapped. He and his party came as to a peaceful assembly, and they found the King and his foreign followers bent on their destruction, and a powerful military force assembled to crush them. But why did even Siward lend himself to a scheme like this? Why, still more, did Leofric forsake the part, which he had so often and so worthily played, of mediator between extreme parties? Unless we are to suppose, which one would not willingly do, that Leofric was won by the bait of Harold’s Earldom for his son, we can only suppose that a mistaken feeling of loyalty hindered him from opposing a project on which he saw that the King was fully bent. It is in his position and that of Siward that the main difficulty lies. When Godwine found himself face to face with all the strength of Northern England, the rest of the story |Explanation of Godwine’s position and conduct.| becomes more intelligible. He had come expecting a fair discussion of all the questions at issue. But fair discussion was not to be had amid the clash of the axes of Siward’s Danes and of the lances of Ralph’s Frenchmen. Godwine had really no choice but to fight or to yield. Had he chosen to fight, the whole force of Wessex and East-Anglia would no doubt soon have been again at his command. But he shrank from a civil war; he saw that it was better policy to bide his time, to yield, even to flee, certain that a revulsion of national feeling would soon demand his recall. Such a course was doubtless wise and patriotic; but it was not one which would be at the time either acceptable or intelligible to the mass of his followers. If he meant to resist, he should doubtless have resisted at once; the hopes of an insurrection always lie in promptness and energy; every hour of delay only adds to the strength of the other side. We can thus understand how men began to fall off from a chief who, it might be said, dared not meet his sovereign either in arms or in council. Still, after all, there is something |His complete and sudden fall.| strange in the details of the story. There is something amazing in so sudden and so utter a fall, not only from the general exaltation of himself and his family, but from the proud and threatening position which he had so lately |Impression on his contemporaries.| held at Beverstone and Gloucester. It is not wonderful that Godwine’s fall from such an unparalleled height of greatness made a deep impression on the minds of the men of his own age. The Biographer of Eadward, who had before likened the children of Godwine to the rivers of Paradise,[483] now deems it a fitting occasion to call upon his Muse to set forth the sufferings of the innocent, and to compare the outlawed Earl to Susanna, Joseph, and other ancient victims of slander.[484] The plain English of the Chronicler who is less strongly committed to Godwine’s cause speaks more directly to the heart; “That would have seemed wonderful to ilk man that in England was, if any man ere that had said that so it should be. For that ere that he was so upheaven, so that he wielded the King and all England, and his sons were Earls and the King’s darlings, and his daughter to the King wedded and married.”[485] He fell from his high estate; but in his fall he doubtless foresaw that the day of his restoration was not far distant. Another Gemót of London was soon to repeal the unrighteous vote of its predecessor; the champion of England was to return for a moment to his old honours and his old power, and then to hand them on to a son even more worthy of them than himself.

Complete temporary triumph of the Norman party. October 1051—September 1052.

But for the moment the overthrow of the patriotic leaders was complete. The dominion of the strangers over the mind of the feeble King was fully assured. The Norman Conquest, in short, might now seem to have more than begun. Honours and offices were of course divided among the foreigners and among those Englishmen who had stood on the King’s side. Through the banishment of Godwine and his sons three great Earldoms were vacant. No one Earl of the West-Saxons seems to have been appointed. Probably, as in the early days of Cnut,[486] the Imperial Kingdom, or at least its greater portion, was again put |Partition of honours among the King’s friends.| under the immediate government of the Crown. The anomalous Earldom of Swegen was dismembered. The |Ralph;| King’s nephew Ralph seems to have been again invested with the government of its Mercian portions.[487] Of the two West-Saxon shires held by Swegen, Berkshire is not |Odda;| mentioned, but Somersetshire was joined with the other western parts of Wessex to form a new government under Odda, a kinsman of the King’s.[488] His Earldom took in the whole of the ancient Wealhcyn, but it is now Cornwall only which is distinguished as Welsh. The policy of Æthelstan[489] had been effectual, and no part of the land east of the Tamar is now recognized as a foreign land. Odda was a special favourite of the monks, and is spoken of as a man of good and clean life, who in the end became a monk himself.[490] The third Earldom, that of East-Anglia, |Ælfgar.| hitherto held by Harold, was bestowed on Ælfgar, the son of Leofric,[491] of whom we hear for the first time during these commotions. He had himself, it would seem, played a prominent part in them,[492] and one would wish to believe that his promotion was the reward of acts of his own, rather than of his father’s seeming desertion of the patriotic |Spearhafoc deposed,| cause. Among churchmen, Spearhafoc, who had throughout the summer and autumn held the see of London without consecration,[493] had now to give up his doubtful possession. |and William made Bishop of London. 1051.| The Bishoprick was then given to a Norman named William, a chaplain of the King’s.[494] A man might now go from the Straits of Dover to the Humber, over Kentish, East-Saxon, and Danish ground, without once, in the course of his journey, going out of the spiritual jurisdiction of Norman Prelates. It is due however to Bishop William to say that he bears a very different character in our history from either his Metropolitan Robert or his fellow-suffragan Ulf. Banished for a while, he was restored when the patriotic party was in the height of its power—a distinct witness in his favour, perhaps a witness against his English competitor.[495] William kept his Bishoprick for many years, and lived to welcome his namesake and native prince to the throne of England. But he had not to wait for so distant an opportunity of displaying his new honours |Visit of Duke William to England. 1051.| in the eyes of his natural sovereign. While Godwine dwelt as an exile at Bruges, while Harold was planning schemes of vengeance in the friendly court of Dublin, William the Bastard first set foot on the shores of England.[496]

We are thus at last brought face to face with the two great actors in our history. Harold has already appeared before us. We have seen him raised at an early age to the highest rank open to a subject; we have seen him, in the cause of his country, deprived of his honours and driven to take refuge in a foreign land. His great rival we have as yet heard of only at a distance; he now comes directly on the field. There can be no doubt that William’s visit to England forms a stage, and a most important one, among the immediate causes of the Norman Conquest. I pause then, at this point, to take up the thread of Norman history, and to give a sketch of the birth, the childhood, the early reign, of the man who, in the year of Godwine’s banishment, saw, for the first time, the land which, fifteen years later, he was to claim as his own.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE EARLY YEARS OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.[497]
A.D. 1028–1051.

§ 1. Birth, Character, and Accession of William. A.D. 1028–1035.

Character and greatness of WILLIAM.

William, King of the English and Duke of the Normans, bears a name which must for ever stand forth among the foremost of mankind. No man that ever trod this earth was ever endowed with greater natural gifts; to no man was it ever granted to accomplish greater things. If we look only to the scale of a man’s acts, without regard to their moral character, we must hail in the victor of Val-ès-dunes, of Varaville, and of Senlac, the restorer of Normandy, the Conqueror of England, one who may fairly claim his place in the first rank of the world’s |Lasting results of his career.| greatest men. No man ever did his work more effectually at the moment; no man ever left his work behind him as |A good side to his character.| more truly an abiding possession for all time. And, when we consider all the circumstances of his life, when we judge him by the standard of his own age, above all, when we compare him with those who came after him in his own house, we shall perhaps be inclined to dwell on his great qualities, on his many undoubted virtues, rather than to put his no less undoubted crimes in their darkest light. As we cannot refuse to place him among the greatest of men, neither will a candid judgement incline us to place him among the worst of men. If we cannot give him a niche among pure patriots and heroes, he is quite as little entitled to a place among mere tyrants and destroyers. William of Normandy has no claim to a share in the pure glory of Timoleôn, Ælfred, and Washington; he cannot even claim the more mingled fame of Alexander, Charles, and Cnut; but he has even less in common with the mere enemies of their species, with the Nabuchodonosors, the Swends, and the Buonapartes, whom God has from time to time sent as simple scourges of a guilty world. Happily there are few men in history of whom we have |English and Norman portraits of him.| better materials for drawing the portrait. We see him as he appeared to admiring followers of his own race; we see him also as he appeared to men of the conquered nation who had looked on him and had lived in his household.[498] We have to make allowance for flattery on the one side; we have not to make allowance for calumny on the other. The feeling with which the Normans looked on their conquering leader was undoubtedly one of awe rather than of love; and the feeling with which the vanquished English looked on their Conqueror was undoubtedly one of awe rather than of simple hatred. Assuredly William’s English subjects did not love him; but they felt a sort of sullen reverence for the King who was richer and mightier than all the Kings that were before him. In speaking of him, the Chronicler writes as it were with downcast eyes and bated breath, as if he were hardly dealing with a man of like passions with himself, but was rather drawing the portrait |Justice done to him by the English Chronicler.| of a being of another nature. Yet he holds the balance fairly between the dark and the bright qualities of one so far raised above the common lot of man. He does not conceal his crimes and his oppressions; but he sets before us the merits of his government and the good peace that he made in this land; he judicially sums up what was good and what was evil in him; he warns men to follow the good and to avoid the evil, and he sends him out of the world with a charitable prayer for the repose of his soul. And, at the moment when he wrote, it was no marvel if the Chronicler was inclined to dwell on the good rather than on the evil. The Crown of William passed to one who shared largely in his mere intellectual gifts, but who had no fellowship with the greater and nobler elements of his character. To appreciate William the Conqueror we have but to cast our glance onwards to William the Red. We shall then well understand how men writhing under the scorpions of the son might look back with regret to the whips of the father. We can understand how, under his godless rule, men might feel kindly towards the memory of one who never wholly cast away the thoughts of justice and mercy, and who, in his darkest hours, had still somewhat of the fear of God before his eyes.

Strength of will in William.

In estimating the character of William, one feature stands out preeminently above all others. Throughout his career, we admire in him the embodiment, in the highest degree that human nature will allow, of the fixed purpose and the unbending will. From time to time there have been men who seem to have come into the world to sway the course of events at their good pleasure, men who have made destiny itself their vassal, and whose decrees it seems in vain for lesser men to seek to withstand. Such was the man who, with the blood of thousands reeking on his hands, could lay down despotic power, could walk unattended to his house, and calmly offer to give an account for any of his actions;[499] and such in might, though assuredly not such in crime, was our first Norman King. Whatever the will of William decreed, he found a means to bring it about. Whatever his hand found to do, he did |His military genius.| it with all his might. As a warrior, as a general, it is needless to sound his praises. His warlike exploits set him among the foremost captains of history, but his warlike exploits are but the smallest part of his fame. Others beside him could have led the charge at Val-ès-dunes; others beside him could have chosen the happy moment for the ambush at Varaville; others beside him could have endured the weariness of the long blockade beneath the donjon of Brionne. Others, it may even be, beside him could have cut their way through palisade and shield-wall and battle-axe to the royal Standard of England. |His statesmanship.| But none in his own age, and few in any age, have shown themselves like him masters of every branch of the consummate craft of the statesman. Calm and clear-sighted, he saw his object before him; he knew when to tarry and when to hasten; he knew when to strike and how to strike, and how to use alike the noblest and the vilest of |His unscrupulousness as to means.| men as his instruments. Utterly unscrupulous, though far from unprincipled, taking no pleasure in wrong or oppression for its own sake, always keeping back his hands from needless bloodshed, he yet never shrank from force or fraud, from wrong or bloodshed or oppression, when they seemed to him the straightest paths to accomplish his purpose. His crimes admit of no denial; but, with one single exception, they never were wanton crimes. And when we come to see the school in which he was brought up, when we see the men whom he had to deal with from his childhood, our wonder really ought to |His personal virtues.| be that his crimes were not infinitely blacker. His personal virtues were throughout life many and great. We hear much of his piety, and we see reason to believe that his piety was something more than the mere conventional |His religious zeal.| piety of lavish gifts to monasteries. Punctual in every exercise of devotion, paying respect and honour of every kind to religion and its ministers, William showed, in two ways most unusual among the princes of that age, that his zeal for holy things was neither hypocrisy, nor fanaticism, nor superstition. Like his illustrious contemporary on the Imperial throne, he appeared as a real ecclesiastical reformer, and he allowed the precepts of his religion to have a distinct influence on his private life. He was one of the few princes of that age whose hands |General excellence of his ecclesiastical appointments.| were perfectly clean from the guilt of simony. His ecclesiastical appointments for the most part do him honour; the patron of Lanfranc and Anselm can never be spoken of without respect. In his personal conduct he practised at least one most unusual virtue; in a profligate age he was a model of conjugal fidelity. He was a good and faithful friend, an affectionate brother—we must perhaps add, too indulgent a father. And strong as was his sense of religion, deep as was his reverence for the Church, open-handed as was his bounty to her ministers, no prince that ever reigned was less disposed to yield to ecclesiastical usurpations. No prince ever knew better how to control the priesthood within his own dominions; none knew better both how to win the voice of Rome to abet his purposes, and how to bid defiance to her demands when they infringed on the rights of his Crown and the laws of his Kingdom. While all Europe rang with the great strife of Pope and Cæsar, England and Normandy remained at peace under the rule of one who knew how, firmly and calmly, to hold his own against Hildebrand himself.

Effects of his reign in Normandy, France, and England.

But to know what William was, no way is so clear as to see what William did in both the countries over which he was so strangely called to rule. We are too apt to look on him simply as the Conqueror of England. But so to do is to look at him only in his most splendid, but at the same time his least honourable, aspect. William learned to become the Conqueror of England only by first becoming the Conqueror of Normandy and the Conqueror of France. He found means to conquer Normandy by the help of France and to conquer France by the help of Normandy. He turned a jealous overlord into an effective ally against his rebellious subjects, and he turned those rebellious subjects into faithful supporters against |His early struggles.| that jealous overlord. He came to his Duchy under every disadvantage. At once bastard and minor, with competitors for his coronet arising at every moment, with turbulent barons to hold in check and envious neighbours to guard against, he was, throughout the whole of his early life, beset by troubles, none of which were of his own making, and he came honourably out of all. The |Excellence of his rule in Normandy.| change which William wrought in Normandy was nothing less than a change from anarchy to good order. Instead of a state, torn by internal feuds and open to the attacks of every enemy, his Duchy became, under his youthful rule, a loyal and well-governed land, respected by all its neighbours, and putting most of them to shame by its prosperity. In the face of every obstacle, the mighty genius of the once despised Bastard raised himself and his principality to a place in the eyes of Europe such as Normandy and its prince had never held before. And these great successes were gained with far less of cruelty or harshness than might have been looked for in so |His general forbearance and occasional cruelty.| ruthless an age. He shared indeed in the fierce passions of his race, and in one or two cases his wrath hurried him, or his policy beguiled him, into acts at which humanity shudders. At all stages of his life, if he was debonair to those who would do his will, he was beyond measure stern to all who withstood it.[500] Yet, when we think of all that he went through, of the treachery and ingratitude which he met with on every side, how his most faithful friends were murdered beside him, how he himself had to flee for his life or to lurk in mean disguises, we shall see that it is not without reason that his panegyrist praises his general forbearance and clemency. In short, the reign of William as Duke of the Normans was alike prosperous and honourable in the highest degree. Had he never stretched forth his hand to grasp the diadem which was another’s, his fame would not have filled the world as now it does, but he would have gone down to his grave as one of the best, as well as one of the greatest, rulers of his time.

His reign in England.

If we turn from William Duke of the Normans to William King of the English, we may indeed mourn that, in a moral sense, the fine gold has become dim, but our admiration for mere greatness, for the highest craft of the statesman and the soldier, will rise higher than ever. No doubt he was highly favoured by fortune; nothing but an extraordinary combination of events could have made the Conquest of England possible. But then |Difficulties of his undertaking.| it is the true art of statesmanship, the art by which men like William carry the world before them, to know how to grasp every fortunate moment and to take advantage of every auspicious turn of events. Doubtless William could never have conquered England except under peculiarly favourable circumstances; but then none but such a man as William could have conquered England under any circumstances at all. He conquered and retained a land far greater than his paternal Duchy, and a land in |Skill displayed in his claim on the English Crown;| which he had not a single native partisan. Yet he contrived to put himself forward in the eyes of the world as a legal claimant, and not as an unprovoked invader. We must condemn the fraud, but we cannot help admiring the skill, by which he made men believe that he was the true heir of England, shut out from his inheritance by a perjured usurper. Never was a more subtle web of fallacy woven by the craft of man; never did diplomatic ingenuity more triumphantly obtain its end. He contrived to make an utterly unjust aggression bear the aspect, not only of righteous, but almost of holy, warfare. The wholesale spoiler of a Christian people contrived to win for himself something very like the position of a Crusader. And, landed on English ground, with no rights but those of his own sword, with no supporters but his own foreign |in his acquisition of it;| army, he yet contrived to win the English Crown with every circumstance of formal legality. He was elected, crowned, and anointed like his native predecessors, and he swore at the hands of an English Primate to observe the ancient laws of England. By force and by craft, but with the outward pretext of law always put prominently forward, he gradually obtained full possession of the whole land; he deprived the nation one by one of its native |and in his subsequent government.| leaders, and put in their places men of foreign birth and wholly dependent on himself. No prince ever more richly rewarded those to whom he owed his Crown, but no prince ever took more jealous care that they should never be able to bring his Crown into jeopardy. None but a man like him could have held down both conquerors and conquered, and have made his will the only law for Norman and Englishman alike. His consummate policy guarded against the dangers which he saw rife in every other country; he put the finishing stroke to the work of Ecgberht, and made England the most united Kingdom in Western Christendom. Normans and Englishmen conspired against him, and called the fleets and hosts of Denmark to their help. But William held his own alike against revolters at home and against invaders from abroad. Norman and English rebels were alike crushed; sometimes the Dane was bought off, sometimes he shrank from the firm array with which the land was guarded. All opposition was |Severity of his police.| quelled by fire and sword; but when it was quelled, whenever and wherever William’s rule was quietly accepted, his hand was heavy upon all smaller disturbers of the peace of the world. Life, property, female honour, stood indeed but a small chance while the process of Conquest was going on, but, when William’s work was fully accomplished, they were safer under him than they had ever been under England’s native Kings. As the stern avenger of crime, even the conquered learned to bless him, and to crown his good deeds with a tribute of praise hardly inferior to that which waits on the name of his illustrious rival.[501]

The worst features of his character brought out in England.

Here then was a career through which none but one of the greatest of mankind could have passed successfully. But it was a career which brought out into full play all those darker features of his character which found but little room for their developement during his earlier reign in his native Duchy. There is no reason to believe that William came into England with any fixed determination to rule otherwise in England than he had already ruled in Normandy. Cnut can hardly fail to have been his model, and William’s earliest days in England were far more promising than the earliest days of Cnut. At no time of his life does William appear as one of those tyrants who actually delight in oppression, to whom the infliction of human suffering is really a source of morbid pleasure. |His false position gradually developed itself, and led him to oppression.| But, if he took no pleasure in the infliction of suffering, it was at least a matter about which he was utterly reckless; he stuck at no injustice which was needed to carry out his purpose. His will was fixed, to win and to keep the Crown of England at all hazards. We may well believe that he would have been well pleased could he have won that Crown without bloodshed. But, rather than not win it, he did not shrink from the guilt of carrying on a desolating war against a people who had never wronged him. We may well believe that, when he swore to govern his new subjects as well as they had been governed by their own Kings, it was his full purpose to keep his oath. That he acted on any settled scheme of uprooting the nationality, the laws, or the language of England is an exploded fable.[502] But he could not govern England as he had governed Normandy; he could not govern England as Cnut had governed England; he could not himself be as Cnut, neither could his Normans be as Cnut’s Danes. He gradually found that there was no way for him to govern England save by oppressions, exactions, and confiscations, by the bondage or the death of the noblest of the land. He made the discovery, and he shrank not from its practical consequences. A reign which had begun with as good hopes as the reign of a foreign conqueror could begin with gradually changed into one of the most tremendous tyrannies on record. Northumberland was hard to be kept in order, and Northumberland was made a desert. |General change for the worse in his character.| This was the dictate of a relentless policy; but when William had once set forth on the downward course of evil, he soon showed that he could do wrong when no policy commanded it, merely to supply means for his |Formation of the New Forest.| personal gratification. To lay waste Hampshire merely to make a hunting-ground was a blacker crime than to lay waste Northumberland to rid himself of a political danger. He could still be merciful when mercy was not dangerous, but he had now learned to shed innocent blood without remorse, if its shedding seemed to add safety to his throne. The repeated revolts of Eadgar were forgiven as often as they occurred; but Waltheof, caressed, |Death of Waltheof.| flattered, promoted, was sent to the scaffold on the first convenient pretext. It is hardly superstitious to point out, alike with ancient and with modern authorities,[503] that the New Forest became a spot fatal to William’s house, and that, after the death of Waltheof, his old prosperity |Crimes and misfortunes of his last years.| forsook him. Nothing indeed occurred to loosen his hold on England; but his last years were spent in bickerings with his unworthy son, and in a petty border warfare, in which the Conqueror had, for the first time, to undergo defeat. At last he found his death-wound in an inglorious quarrel, in the personal commission of cruelties which aroused the indignation of his own age; and the mighty King and Conqueror, forsaken by his servants and children, had to owe his funeral rites to the voluntary charity of a loyal vassal, and within the walls of his own minster he could not find an undisputed grave.

William’s surnames: the Great, the Conqueror, the Bastard.

Such was William the Great, a title which, in the mouths of his contemporaries, he shared with Alexander and with Charles, but which in later times has been displaced by the misunderstood description of Conqueror.[504] But, before he had won any right to either of those lofty titles, William was already known by another surname |Laxity of the Norman Dukes as to marriage and legitimacy.| drawn from the circumstances of his birth. Of all princely lines the ducal house of Normandy was that which paid least regard to the canonical laws of marriage or to the special claims of legitimate birth.[505] The Duchy had been ruled by a whole succession of princes who either were sprung from that irregular kind of union which was known as the Danish marriage,[506] or else were the sons of concubines raised to the rank of wives after the birth of their children. But, among all this brood of spurious or irregular heirs, the greatest of the whole line was the one to whom the reproach, if reproach it was deemed, |Special illegitimacy of William.| of illegitimate birth clave the most abidingly. William the son of Robert was emphatically William the Bastard, and the name clave to him through life, on the Imperial throne of Britain no less than on the ducal chair of Normandy. For, of all the whole line, William was the one whose bastardy was the most undoubted, the least capable of being veiled under ambiguous and euphemistic phrases. The position of Popa and Sprota was a doubtful one;[507] it may, according to Danish ideas, have been perfectly honourable. The children of Richard and Gunnor were, according to the law recognized everywhere but in our own country, legitimated by the subsequent marriage of their parents. But we may doubt whether the notion of the Danish marriage survived as late as the days of Robert, and it is certain that no ecclesiastical sacrament ever gave William a right, according to the law of the Church, to rank as the lawful son of his father. The mother of William is never spoken of in the respectful terms which we find applied to the mother of Richard the Fearless. Throughout the whole of Duke Robert’s life, she remained in the position of an acknowledged mistress, and her illustrious son came forth before the world with no other description than the Bastard.

Story of William’s birth.

The irregular birth of one so renowned naturally became the subject of romance and legend. And the spot on which William first saw the light is one which seems to call for the tribute of the legend-maker as its natural due. |Position of Falaise.| The town of Falaise, in the Diocese of Seez, is one of the most famous spots both in the earlier and in the later history of Normandy, and none assuredly surpasses it in the striking character of its natural position. Lying on the edge of the great forest of Gouffer, the spot had its natural attractions for a line of princes renowned, even above others of their time, for their devotion to the sports of the field. The town itself lies in a sort of valley between two eminences. The great Abbey, a foundation of a later date than the times which we are concerned with, has utterly vanished; but two stately parish churches, one of them dating from the days of Norman independence, bear witness to the ecclesiastical splendour of the place. Passing |Historical associations of the Castle.| by them, the traveller gradually ascends to the gate of the Castle, renowned alike in the wars of the twelfth, the fifteenth, and the sixteenth centuries. A tall round tower still bears the name of the great Talbot, the guardian of |1417–1450.| the castle in the great English war, and who afterwards won a still higher fame as the last champion of the ancient |1453.| freedom of Aquitaine against the encroachments of the Kings of Paris.[508] But this witness of comparatively recent strife is but an excrescence on the original structure. It is the addition made by an English King to one of the noblest works of his Norman forefathers. The Castle where legend fixes the birth of William of Normandy, and where |1175.| history fixes the famous homage of William of Scotland, is a vast donjon of the eleventh or twelfth century.[509] One of the grandest of those massive square keeps which I have already spoken of as distinguishing the earliest military architecture of Normandy, crowns the summit of a precipitous rock, fronted by another mass of rock wilder still, on which the cannon of England were planted during |The rocks give its name to the town.| Henry’s siege. To these rocks, these felsen, the spot owes its name of Falaise,[510] one of the many spots in Normandy where the good old Teutonic speech still lingers in local nomenclature, though in this case the Teutonic name has also preserved its permanent being in the general vocabulary of the Romance speech. Between these two rugged heights lies a narrow dell, through which runs a small beck, a tributary of the neighbouring river Ante. The dell is crowded with mills and tanneries, but the mills and tanneries of Falaise have their share in the historic interest of the place. The mills play no inconsiderable part in the |The Tanneries of Falaise.| records of the Norman Exchequer,[511] and the tanneries at once suggest the name of the greatest son of Normandy. In every form which the story has taken in history or legend, the mother of the Conqueror appears as the |William the son of a Tanner’s daughter.| daughter of a tanner of Falaise, plying his unsavoury craft on the spot where it has continued to be plied through so many ages. The conquered English indeed strove to claim the Norman Duke as their own, by representing his mother as a descendant of their own royal house.[512] But, even in this version, the traditional trade of her father |English legend of the birth of William.| is not forgotten. The daughter of the hero Eadmund disgraced herself by a marriage or an intrigue with her father’s tanner, to whom in process of time she bore three daughters. The pair were banished from England, and took refuge on the opposite coast. In the course of their wanderings they came to beg alms at the gate of Duke Richard the Good. The Prince discovered the lofty birth of the mother, and took the whole family into his favour. The youngest daughter became the mistress of his son Robert, and of them sprang the mighty William, great-grandson of Eadmund Ironside no less than of Richard the Fearless.

Such a tale is of course valuable only as illustrating the universal tendency of conquered nations to try to alleviate the shame and grief of conquest by striving to believe that their tyrants are at least their countrymen. The story of William’s English origin clearly comes from the same mint as the story in which Egyptian vanity gave out that Kambysês was Egyptian by his maternal origin,[513] as the story which saw in Alexander himself a scion of the royal house of Persia.[514] It seems however to preserve one grain of truth in the midst of so much that is mythical. It represents the connexion between Robert and his mistress as having begun before he ascended the ducal throne. There can be little doubt that this was the case, though the story is generally told as if Robert had been already Duke |Story of Herleva.| of the Normans. But it is more likely that Robert was as yet only Count of the Hiesmois, and, as such, Lord of Falaise, when his eye was first caught by the beauty of Arlette, or rather Herleva, the daughter of Fulbert the Tanner. Some say he first saw her engaged in the dance,[515] others when she was busied in the more homely work of washing linen in the beck which flows by her father’s tannery at the foot of the castle.[516] The prince himself, a mere stripling, saw and loved her. He sought her of her father, who, after some reluctance, gave up his child to his lord, by the advice, according to one account, of a holy hermit his brother.[517] She was led the same evening to the castle; the poetical chroniclers are rich in details of her behaviour.[518] She became the cherished mistress of Robert, and her empire over his heart was, we are told, not disturbed by another connexion, lawful or unlawful.[519] |Advancement of her family.| After the example of former princes, Robert in after times raised the kinsfolk of his mistress to high honours. Half the nobility of Normandy had sprung from the brothers and sisters of Gunnor, so now Fulbert the Tanner, the father of Herleva, was raised to the post of ducal chamberlain,[520] and her brother Walter was placed in some office which, in after times, gave him close access to the person of his princely nephew.[521] After Robert’s death, |Her marriage with Herlwin of Conteville.| Herleva obtained an honourable marriage, and became, by her husband Herlwin of Conteville,[522] the mother of two sons who will fill no small space in our history. But her union with the Duke produced but one son, perhaps but |Legends of omens.| one child.[523] That child however was one whose future greatness was, so we are told, prefigured by omens and prodigies from the moment of his birth, and even from the moment of his conception. On the night of her first visit to the castle, Herleva dreamed that a tree arose from her body which overshadowed all Normandy and all England.[524] At the moment of his birth, the babe seized the straw on the chamber floor with so vigorous a grasp that all who saw the sight knew that he would become a mighty conqueror, who would never let go anything that he had once laid |Birth of William. 1027–1028.| his hand upon.[525] Leaving tales like these apart, it is certain that William, the bastard son of Robert and Herleva, was born at Falaise, perhaps in the year in which the great Cnut made his famous pilgrimage to the threshold of the Apostles.[526]

Question of the succession: state of the Ducal family.

Before Robert undertook so perilous an enterprise, it was clearly needful for him to regulate the succession to the Duchy. The reigning prince had neither brother nor legitimate child. The heir, according to modern notions of heirship, was a churchman, Robert, Archbishop of |Robert Archbishop of Rouen. 989–1037.| Rouen. This Prelate we have already seen in rebellion against his namesake the Duke,[527] probably on account of this very claim to the succession. He was one of the children of Richard the Fearless, legitimated and made capable of ecclesiastical honours by the late marriage of his parents. Indeed, according to one account, the marriage of Richard and Gunnor was contracted expressly to take away the canonical objections which were raised against the appointment of a bastard to the metropolitan see.[528] Archbishop Robert was thus an uncle of Duke Robert and a great-uncle of the child William. Besides his Archbishoprick, he held the County of Evreux as a lay fee. Like the more famous Odo of Bayeux, he drew a marked distinction between his ecclesiastical and his temporal character. As Count of Evreux, he had a wife, Herleva by name,[529] and was the father of children of whom we shall hear again in our history. In his latter days, his spiritual character became more prominent; he repented of his misdeeds, gave great alms to the poor, and began the rebuilding of the metropolitan church.[530] There were also two princes whose connexion with the ducal house was by legitimate, though only female, descent. One was |Guy of Burgundy;| Guy of Burgundy, a nephew of Duke Robert, being grandson of Richard the Good through his daughter |Alan of Britanny;| Adeliza.[531] The other was Robert’s cousin, Count Alan of Britanny, the son of Hadwisa daughter of Richard the Fearless.[532] Nearer in blood, but of more doubtful legitimacy, were Robert’s own half-brothers, the sons of Richard |Malger;| the Good by Papia. These were the churchman Malger, who afterwards succeeded Archbishop Robert in the |William of Arques;| see of Rouen,[533] and William, who held the County and |Nicholas.| castle of Arques near Dieppe.[534] There was also the monk Nicholas, the young, and no doubt illegitimate, son of |No candidate free from objection.| Richard the Third.[535] None of these were promising candidates for the ducal crown. Robert, the lineal heir, might be looked on as disqualified by his profession; Alan and Guy were strangers, and could claim only through females; the nearer kinsmen were of spurious or doubtful birth, and some of them were liable also to the same objection as Robert. Had any strong opposition existed, William of Arques would probably have been found the best card to play; but there was no candidate whose claims were absolutely without cavil; there was none round whom national feeling could instinctively centre; there was none who was clearly marked out, either by birth or by merit, as the natural leader of the Norman people. This state of things must be borne in mind, in order to understand the fact, otherwise so extraordinary, that Robert was able to secure the succession to a son who was at once bastard and minor. There were strong objections against young William; but there were objections equally strong against |Unpopularity of William’s succession.| every other possible candidate. Under these circumstances it was possible for William to succeed; but it followed, almost as a matter of course, that the early years of his reign were disturbed by constant rebellions. William’s succession was deeply offensive to many of his subjects, especially to that large portion of the Norman nobility who had any kind of connexion with the ducal house. From the time of the child’s birth, there can be little doubt that his father’s intentions in his favour were at least suspected, and the suspicion may well have given rise to some of the rebellions by which Robert’s reign was disturbed.[536]

The great Norman houses; their connexion with English history.

At this stage of our narrative it becomes necessary to form some clear conception of the personality and the ancestry of some of the great Norman nobles. Most of them belonged to houses whose fame has not been confined to Normandy. We are now dealing with the fathers of the men, in some cases with the men themselves, who fought round William at Senlac, and among whom he divided the honours and the lands of England. These men became the ancestors of the new nobility of England, and, as their forefathers had changed in Gaul from Northmen into Normans, so now, by a happier application of the same law, they gradually changed from Normans into Englishmen. Many a name famous in English history, many a name whose sound is as familiar to us as any word of our own Teutonic speech, many a name which has long ceased to suggest any thought of foreign origin, is but the name of some Norman village, whose lord, or perhaps some lowlier inhabitant, followed his Duke to the Conquest of England and shared in the plunder of the conquered. But the names which are most familiar to us as names of English lords and gentlemen of Norman descent belong, for the most part, to a sort of second crop, which first grew up to importance on English soil. The great Norman houses whose acts—for the most part whose crimes—become of paramount importance at the time with which we are now dealing, were mostly worn out in a few generations, and they have left but few direct representatives on either side of the sea.

Greatness of the House of Belesme.

High among these great houses, the third in rank among the original Norman nobility,[537] stood the house of Belesme, whose present head was William, surnamed Talvas.[538] The domains held by his family, partly of the Crown of France, partly of the Duchy of Normandy, might almost put him on a level with princes rather than with ordinary nobles. The possession from which the family took its name lay within the French territory, and was a fief of the French Crown. But, within the Norman Duchy, the Lords of Belesme were masters of the valley bounded by the hills from which the Orne flows in one direction and the Sarthe in another. Close on the French frontier, they held the strong fortress of Alençon, the key of Normandy on that side. They are called Lords of the city of Seez,[539] and, at the time of which we are speaking, a member of their house filled its episcopal throne.[540] Their domains stretched to Vinoz, a few miles south-east of Falaise, and separated from the town by the forest of Gouffer. Ivo, the first founder of this mighty house, had been one of the faithful guardians of the childhood of Richard the Fearless, and had been enriched by him as the reward of his true service in evil days.[541] But with Ivo the virtue of his race seems to have died out, and his descendants appear in Norman and English history as |Their supposed hereditary wickedness.| monsters of cruelty and perfidy, whose deeds aroused the horror even of that not over scrupulous age. Open robbery and treacherous assassination seem to have been their daily occupations. The second of the line, William of Belesme, had rebelled against Duke Robert, and had defended his fortress of Alençon against him.[542] His eldest son Warren murdered a harmless and unsuspecting friend, and was for this crime, so the men of his age said, openly seized and strangled by the fiend. Of his other sons, Fulk, presuming to ravage the ducal territory, was killed in battle, Robert was taken prisoner by the men of Le Mans and beheaded by way of reprisals for a murder committed by his followers. The surviving heir of the possessions and of the wickedness of his race was his one remaining son William Talvas.[543] This man, we are told, |William Talvas; his crimes.| being displeased by the piety and good manners of his first wife Hildeburgis, hired ruffians to murder her on her way to church.[544] At his second wedding-feast he put out the eyes, and cut off the nose and ears, of an unsuspecting guest.[545] This was William the son of Geroy, one of a house whose name we shall often meet again in connexion with the famous Abbeys of Bec and Saint Evroul. A local war ensued, in which William Talvas suffered an inadequate punishment for his crimes in the constant devastation of his lands. At last a more appropriate avenger arose from his own house. The hereditary wickedness of his line passed on to his daughter Mabel and his son Arnulf. Mabel, the wife of Roger of Montgomery, will be a prominent character in our story for many years. Arnulf rebelled against his father, and left him to die wretchedly in exile. An act of wanton rapacity was presently punished by a supernatural avenger; Arnulf, like his uncle Warren, was strangled by a dæmon in his bed.[546] Such was the character of the family whose chief, first in power and in crime among the nobility of Normandy, stood forth, as the story goes, as the mouthpiece of that nobility, to express the feelings with which the descendants of the comrades of Rolf, the descendants of Richard the Fearless, even the descendants of the brothers and sisters of Gunnor, looked on the possible promotion of the Tanner’s grandson to be their lord.

William Talvas curses young William.

William Talvas, says the tale, in the days of his prosperity, was one day in the streets of Falaise, a town where the close neighbourhood of his possessions doubtless made him well known. The babe William, the son of the Duke and Herleva, was being nursed in the house of his maternal grandfather. A burgher, meeting the baron, bade him step in and see the son of his lord. William Talvas entered the house and looked on the babe. He then cursed him, saying that, by that child and his descendants, himself and his descendants would be brought to shame.[547] A curse from the mouth of William Talvas might almost be looked on as a blessing, and the form of the prediction was such as to come very near to the nature of a panegyric. It is indeed the highest praise of the babe who then lay in his cradle, that he did something to bring to shame, something to bring under the restraints of law and justice, men like the hoary sinner who instinctively saw in him the destined enemy of his kind. But the words, when uttered, would be meant and understood simply as a protest against the insult which was preparing for the aristocratic pride of the great Norman houses. Possibly indeed the tale, like other tales of the kind, may have been devised after the event; still it would mark none the less truly the feelings with which a man like William Talvas, boasting of a descent from the original conquerors of the land, looked on the unworthy sovereign whom destiny seemed to be providing for them.

Robert announces his intention of pilgrimage. 1034–5.

Duke Robert however was bent on his purpose. He gathered an assembly of the great men of his Duchy, among whom the presence of Archbishop Robert, perhaps as being a possible competitor for the succession, is specially mentioned.[548] The Duke set forth his intention of visiting the Holy Sepulchre, and told his hearers, that, aware of the dangers of such a journey, he wished to settle the succession to the Duchy before he set out. The voice of the Assembly bade him stay at home and continue to discharge the duties of government in person, especially at a time when there was no one successor or representative to whom they could be entrusted with any chance of the general good will. It was of course desirable to stave off the question. Robert might yet have legitimate heirs; or, in the failure of that hope, the Norman chiefs might gradually come to an agreement in favour of some other candidate. Let the Duke stay at home and guard his Duchy against the pretensions of the Breton and the Burgundian.[549] But Robert would brook no delay in the accomplishment of his pious purpose; he would go at |He proposes William as his successor.| once to the Holy Land; he would settle the succession before he went. He brought forward the young William, and acknowledged him as his son. He was little, he told them, but he would grow; he was one of their own stock, brought up among them.[550] His overlord the King of the French had engaged to acknowledge and protect him.[551] He called on them to accept, to choose—the never-ceasing mixture of elective and hereditary claims appears here as everywhere—the child as their future Lord, as his successor in the Duchy, should he never return from the distant land to which he was bound.[552] The Normans were in a manner entrapped. There can be no doubt that nothing could be further from the wishes of the majority of the Assembly than to agree to the Duke’s proposal; but there was nothing else to be done. If Robert could not be prevailed on to stay at home, some settlement must be made; and, little as any of them liked the prospect of the rule of the young Bastard, there was no other candidate in whose favour all parties could come to an agreement |William’s succession accepted.| on the spot. Unwillingly then the Norman nobility consented; they accepted the only proposal which was before them; they swore the usual oaths, and did homage to the son of Herleva as their future sovereign.[553] The kinsmen of Gunnor, the descendants of the comrades of Rolf, became the men of the Tanner’s grandson, and he himself was received as the man of King Henry at Paris.[554] As far as forms went, no form was wanting which could make William’s succession indisputably lawful. Duke Robert then set forth on the pilgrimage from which he never returned. Within a few months, his short life and |William succeeds his father in the Duchy. 1035.| reign came to an end at Nikaia.[555] Thus, in the same year which beheld the great Empire of Cnut parted among his sons, did William, the seven years old grandson of the Tanner Fulbert, find himself on the seat of Rolf and Richard the Fearless, charged with the mission to keep down, as his infant hands best might, the turbulent spirits who had been unwillingly beguiled into acknowledging him as their sovereign.

Necessary evils of a minority.

Anarchy at once broke forth; all the evils which attend a minority in a rude age were at once poured forth upon the unhappy Duchy. We see the wisdom with which the custom of our own and of most contemporary lands provided that the government of men should be entrusted to those only who had themselves at least reached man’s estate. In England the exceptional minorities of the sons of Eadmund and of Eadgar had been calamitous, but they were nothing to compare to the minority of William of Normandy. In England the custom of regular national assemblies, the habit of submitting all matters to a fair vote, the recognition of the Law as supreme over every man, hindered the state from falling into utter dissolution, even in those perilous times. The personal reign of Æthelred proved far weaker than the administration which Dunstan carried on in his name in his early years. But in Normandy, where constitutional ideas had found so imperfect a developement as compared with England, there was nothing of this kind to fall back upon. Nothing but the personal genius of a determined and vigorous Prince could keep that fierce nobility in any measure of order. With the accession of an infant there at once ceased to be any power to protect or to punish. “Woe |Childhood of William.| to the land whose King is a child” is the apt quotation of an historian of the next age.[556] The developement of the young Duke both in mind and body was undoubtedly precocious; but his early maturity was mainly owing to the stern discipline of that terrible childhood. It was in those years that he learned the arts which made Normandy, France, and England bow before him; but, at the age of seven years, William himself was no more capable than Æthelred of personally wielding the rod of rule. The child had good and faithful guardians, guardians perhaps no less well disposed to fulfil their trust towards him than Dunstan had been towards the children of Eadgar. But there was no one man in Normandy to whom every Norman could look up as every Englishman had looked up to the mighty Primate, and the bowl and the dagger soon deprived the young Prince of the support of his wisest and truest counsellors. The minority of William was truly a time when every man did that which was right in his own eyes. And what seemed right in the eyes of the nobles of Normandy was commonly |Utter anarchy of the time.| rebellion against their sovereign, ruthless oppression of those beneath them, and endless deadly feuds with one another. We have already seen some specimens of their crimes in the doings of the house of Belesme. That house is indeed always spoken of as exceptionally wicked; but a state of things in which such deeds could be done, and could go unpunished, must have come very nearly to a complete break-up of society. The general pictures which we find given us of the time are fearful beyond expression. Through the withdrawal of all controlling power, every landowner became a petty sovereign, and began to exercise all the sovereign rights of slaughter and devastation. |Building of castles.| The land soon bristled with castles. The mound crowned with the square donjon rose as the defence or the terror of every lordship.[557] This castle-building |Building of castles.| is now spoken of in Normandy with a condemnation nearly as strong as that with which it was spoken of in England, when, a few years after this time, the practice was introduced into England by the Norman favourites of Eadward.[558] But there is a characteristic difference in the tone of the two complaints. The English complaint always is that the Frenchmen built castles and oppressed the poor folk,[559] or that they did all possible evil and shame to their English neighbours.[560] The Norman complaint, though not wholly silent as to the oppression of the humbler ranks,[561] yet dwells mainly on the castle-building as a sign of rebellion against the authority of the Prince, and as an occasion of warfare between baron and baron. And it would have been well for the reputation of the Norman nobles of that age if they had confined themselves to open warfare with one another and open rebellion against their sovereign. |Frequency of assassinations.| But they sank below the common morality of their own age; private murder was as familiar to them as open war. The house of Belesme had a bad preeminence in this as in other crimes; but, if they had a preeminence, they were far from having a monopoly. Probably no period of the same length in the history of Christendom contains the record of so many foul deeds of slaughter and mutilation as the early years of the reign of William. And they were constantly practised, not only against avowed and armed enemies, but against unarmed and unsuspecting guests. Some of the tales may be inventions or exaggerations; but the days in which such tales could even be invented must have been full of deeds of horror. Isolated cases of similar crimes may doubtless be found in any age; but this period is remarkable alike for the abundance of crimes, for the rank of the criminals, and for the impunity which they enjoyed. To control these men was the duty laid upon the almost infant years of William, a duty with which nothing short of his own full and matured powers might seem fit to grapple. Yet over all these difficulties the genius of the |Effects of William’s government in Normandy.| great Duke was at last triumphant. His hand brought order out of the chaos, and changed a land wasted by rebellion and intestine warfare into one of the most prosperous regions of Europe, a land flourishing as no Norman ruler had seen it flourish before. When we think of the days in which William spent his youth, of the men against whom his early years were destined to be one continued struggle, we shall be less inclined to lift up our hands in horror at his later crimes than to dwell with admiration on the large share of higher and better qualities which, among all his evil deeds, clave to him to his dying day.

§ 2. From the Accession of William to the Battle of Val-ès-dunes. 1035–1047.

Guardians of William.

We have seen among what kind of men the young Duke of the Normans had to pass the first years of his life and sovereignty. But his father, in leaving his one lamb among so many wolves, had at least provided him with trustworthy |Alan of Britanny.| guardians. Alan of Britanny, a possible competitor for the Duchy, a neighbouring prince with whom Duke Robert had so lately been at war,[562] was disarmed when his overlord committed his son to his faith as kinsman and vassal, and even invested him with some measure of authority in Normandy itself.[563] The immediate care of the young Duke’s person was given to one Thurcytel or Thorold, names which point to a genuine Scandinavian descent in their bearer, and which would make us look to the Bessin as the probable place of his birth.[564] Other |Osbern.| guardians of high rank were the Seneschal Osbern, and Count Gilbert, both of them connected in the usual way with the ducal family. Osbern was the son of Herfast, a brother of the Duchess Gunnor; he was also married to a daughter of Rudolf of Ivry, the son of Asperleng and Sprota, the savage suppressor of the great |Gilbert.| peasant revolt.[565] Gilbert’s connexion was still closer. He was illustrious alike in his forefathers and in his descendants. He sprang of the ducal blood of Normandy, and of his blood sprang the great houses of Clare and Pembroke in England. His father Godfrey was one of those natural children of Richard the Fearless who did not share the promotion of the offspring of Gunnor.[566] He was lord of the border fortress of Eu, renowned in Norman history as early as the days of Rolf;[567] he was lord too of the pleasant valley of the Risle, separated only by one wooded hill from the more memorable valley which is hallowed by the names of Herlwin, Lanfranc, and Anselm. |Alan poisoned. 1039–1040.| All these worthy men paid the penalty of their fidelity. Count Alan died of poison, while he was besieging the castle of Montgomery, the stronghold of a house which we shall often have again to mention. He died at Vinmoutier, and was buried in the abbey of Fécamp. Breton slander afterwards threw the guilt of this crime upon the Duke himself,[568] the person who had least to gain by it. Norman slander threw it on Alan’s own subjects;[569] but one can hardly doubt that, if the poisoned bowl was administered at all, it was administered by some one or |Murder of Gilbert.| other of the rebellious Norman nobles.[570] Count Gilbert was murdered by assassins employed by Ralph of Wacey, son of Archbishop Robert.[571] The sons of the murdered man fled to Flanders, and took refuge with the common protector of banished men, Count Baldwin. The lands of Gilbert were divided among various claimants; the County of Eu seems to have passed into the hands of his uncle William;[572] but his famous castle of Brionne fell to the lot of Guy of Burgundy, of whom, and of whose possession of the fortress, we shall hear much as we go on.[573]

Castle and house of Montgomery.

Another still more criminal attempt directly introduces us for the first time to another of the great Norman houses, and one whose name has been more abiding than any other. I have just before mentioned Count Alan’s siege of the castle of Montgomery. The name of that castle, a hill fortress in the diocese of Lisieux, enjoys a peculiar privilege above all others in Norman geography. Other spots in Normandy have given their names to Norman houses, and those Norman houses have transferred those names to English castles and English towns and villages. But there is only one shire in Great Britain which has had the name of a Norman house impressed |Roger of Montgomery and his five sons.| upon it for ever. Roger, the present Lord of Montgomery, was, at the time of Duke Robert’s death, in banishment at Paris.[574] His five sons remained in Normandy, and were among the foremost disturbers of the peace of the country.[575] But one of the five, Hugh, had a son, named, like his |The younger Roger.| grandfather, Roger, who bore a better character and was destined to a higher fate. He had, through his mother, a connexion of the usual kind with the ducal house. Weva, a sister of Gunnor, was the wife of Thorulf of Pont-Audemer, the son of Torf,[576] and her daughter Joscelina was the wife of Hugh of Montgomery, and the mother of the younger Roger.[577] On this Roger, William Talvas, in his old age, |His wife Mabel, daughter of William Talvas.| bestowed the hand of his daughter Mabel, who transferred the name, the honours, and the hereditary wickedness of the house of Belesme to her sons of the house of Montgomery.[578] Mabel, small in stature, talkative, and cruel, guilty of fearful crimes and destined to a fearful doom,[579] fills a place in history fully equal to that filled by her husband. Of him we shall hear again as literally the foremost among the conquerors of England; we shall see him enriched with English estates and honours, bearing the lofty titles of Earl of Arundel and Shrewsbury, and, once at least, adorned with the loftier title which had been borne by Æthelred and |1087.| Leofric. Once, and that while engaged in rebellion against his prince, he flits before us for a moment as Roger Earl of the Mercians.[580] A munificent friend of monks both in England and in Normandy, he has left behind him a different reputation from that of either his father, his wife, or his sons. In one of those sons we shall see the name of his maternal ancestors revive, and, with their name, a double portion of their wickedness.

But we have as yet to deal with the house of Montgomery |Attempt of William of Montgomery on Duke William at Vaudreuil.| only in its least honourable aspect. William, son of the elder, and uncle of the younger, Roger, stands charged with an attempt, aimed no longer at guardians or tutors, but at the person of the young Duke himself. William was staying with his guardian Osbern at Vaudreuil, a castle on an island in the Eure, said to have been the place of captivity of the famous Fredegunda in Merowingian times.[581] Thorold, it would seem, had been already murdered, but his assassins are spoken of only in general terms.[582] But Osbern still watched over his young lord day |Murder of Osbern; escape of the Duke.| and night. While at Vaudreuil he was butchered by William of Montgomery in the very bedchamber of the Duke, and the young prince owed his own safety on this, and on many other occasions, to the zealous care of his maternal uncle Walter. Many a time did this faithful kinsman carry him from palace and castle to find a lurking-place from those who sought his life in the cottages of the poor.[583] The blood of Osbern was soon avenged; a faithful servant of the murdered Seneschal presently did to William of Montgomery as William of Montgomery had done to Osbern.[584] In the state of things in Normandy at that moment crime could be punished only by crime. The remembrance of the faithful Osbern lived also in the memory of the Prince whose childhood he had so well |Friendship of the Duke with William Fitz-Osbern.| guarded. His son William grew up from his youth as the familiar friend and counsellor of his namesake the Duke. This is that famous William Fitz-Osbern who lived to be, next to the Duke himself, the prime agent in the Conquest of England, who won, far more than the Duke himself, the hatred of the conquered people, and who at last perished in a mad enterprise after a crown and a wife in Flanders.

The next enemy was Roger of Toesny, whom we have already heard of as a premature Crusader, the savage foe |Rebellion and death of Roger of Toesny.| of the Infidels of Spain.[585] Disappointed in his dream of a Kingdom in the Iberian peninsula, he returned to his native land to find it under the sway of the son of the Tanner’s daughter. The proud soul of the descendant of Malahulc scorned submission to such a lord; “A bastard is not fit to rule over me and the other Normans.”[586] He refused all allegiance, and began to ravage the lands of his neighbours. The one who suffered most was Humfrey de Vetulis, a son of Thorulf of Pont-Audemer, and of Weva the sister of Gunnor. He sent his son Roger of Beaumont against the aggressor. A battle followed, in which Roger of Toesny and his two sons were killed, and Robert of Grantmesnil received a mortal wound.[587] This fight was fought rather in defence of private property than in the assertion of any public principle. But the country gained by the destruction of so inveterate an enemy of peace as Roger of Toesny. And here, as at every step of this stage of our narrative, we become acquainted with men whose names are to figure in the later portion of |Houses of Grantmesnil and Beaumont.| our history. Robert of Grantmesnil was the father of Hugh of Grantmesnil, who had no small share in the conquest of England and the division of its spoil. Roger of Beaumont became the patriarch of the first house of the Earls of Leicester. One of his descendants played an honourable part in the great struggle between King and Primate in the latter half of the twelfth century;[588] and his honours passed by female succession to that great deliverer who made the title of Earl of Leicester the most glorious in the whole peerage of England.[589]

Ralph of Wacey chosen as the Duke’s guardian.

By this time William was getting beyond the years of childhood, and he was beginning to display those extraordinary powers of mind and body with which nature had endowed him. He could now in some measure exercise a will of his own. He still needed a guardian, but, according to the principles of Roman Law, he had a right to a voice in determining who that guardian should be. He summoned the chief men of his Duchy, and, by their advice, he chose as his own tutor and as Captain-General of the armies of Normandy,[590] Ralph the son of Archbishop Robert. The choice seems a strange one, as Ralph was no other than the murderer of William’s former guardian Count Gilbert.[591] But it may have been thought politic for the young Duke to strengthen his hands by an alliance with a former enemy, and to make, as in the case of Count Alan of Britanny, a practical appeal to the honour of a possible rival. The appointment of Ralph seems in fact to have had that effect. A time of comparative internal quiet now followed. But there still were traitors in the land. Many, we are told, of the Norman nobles, even of those who professed the firmest fidelity to the Duke, and were loaded by him with the highest honours, still continued to plot against him in secret.[592] For a while they no longer revolted openly on their own account; but there was a potentate hard by whose ear was ever open to their suggestions, and who was ever ready to help them in any plots against their sovereign and their country.

Relations between Normandy and France hitherto friendly.

From this point a new chapter opens in the relations between Normandy and France. We have seen that, ever since the Commendation made by Richard the Fearless to Hugh the Great,[593] the relations between the Norman Princes and the Dukes and Kings of Paris had been invariably |945.| |987.| friendly.[594] It was to Norman help that the Parisian dynasty in a great measure owed its rise to royalty;[595] it |1031.| was to Norman help that the reigning King of the French owed his restoration to his throne.[596] Henry of Paris, made King by the help of Robert, had received Robert’s son as his vassal,[597] and had promised to afford him the protection due from a righteous overlord to a faithful vassal. But we |Return to ill-feeling from the accession of William.| now, from the accession of William, begin to see signs of something like a return on the French side to the old state of feeling in the days when the Normans were still looked on as heathen intruders, and their Duke was held to be Duke only of the Pirates.[598] We find the French applying contemptuous epithets to the Norman people,[599] and we find the King of the French ready to seize every opportunity for enriching himself at the expense of the Norman Duke.

Causes of this change of feeling.

It is not easy at first sight to explain this return to a state of things which seemed to have passed away for more than a generation. Still we must not forget that any prince reigning at Paris could hardly fail to look with a grudging eye on the practically independent power which cut him off from the mouth of his own river. The great feudatory at Rouen seemed, in a way in which no other feudatory seemed, to shut up his overlord in a kind of prison. The wealth and greatness and prosperity of Normandy might seem, both historically and geographically, to be something actually taken away from the possessions of France. This feeling would apply to Normandy in a way in which it did not apply to the other great fiefs of Flanders and Aquitaine. And the feeling would on every ground be stronger in the mind of a King reigning at Paris than in that of a King reigning at Laôn. To a French King at Paris the Normans were the nearest and the most powerful of all neighbours, those whose presence must have made itself far more constantly felt than that of any other power in Gaul. Hitherto this inherent feeling of jealousy had been kept in check by the close hereditary connexion between the two states. The league established between Richard and Hugh had hitherto been kept unbroken by their descendants. But the main original object of that league, mutual support against the Carolingian King at Laôn, had ceased to exist when the Parisian Duke assumed the royal dignity. Since that time, the league could have rested on little more than an hereditary sentiment between the Norman and French princes, which probably was never very deeply shared by their subjects on either side. And now that sentiment was giving way to the earlier and more instinctive feeling which pointed out the Rouen Duchy as the natural enemy of the Parisian Kingdom. It had once been convenient to forget, it was now equally convenient to remember, that the original grant to Rolf had been made at the immediate expense, not of the King of Laôn but of the Duke of Paris.[600] Under these changed circumstances, the old feeling, dormant for a time, seems to have again awakened in all its strength. And now that Normandy held out temptations to every aggressor, now that Norman nobles did not scruple to invite aid from any quarter against a prince |Ingratitude of King Henry.| whose years were the best witness of his innocence, every feeling of justice and generosity seems to have vanished from the mind of King Henry. The King who owed his Crown to the unbought fidelity of Duke Robert did not scruple to despoil the helpless boy whom his benefactor had |Dispute about Tillières.| entrusted to his protection. The border fortress of Tillières formed the first pretext. That famous creation of Richard the Good had been raised as a bulwark, not against the King, but against the troublesome Count of Chartres.[601] But Odo had found it convenient to surrender the disputed territory of Dreux to the Crown;[602] the Arve therefore now became the boundary between Normandy and the royal domain. Tillières was accordingly declared to be a standing menace to Paris, whose retention was inconsistent with any friendly relations between King and Duke.[603] The loyal party in Normandy thought it better to yield than to expose their young Duke to fresh jeopardy.[604] But the actual commander of the fortress was of another mind. |Gilbert Crispin besieged in Tillières.| Tillières had been entrusted by Duke Robert to Gilbert Crispin, the ancestor of a race by whom, after its restoration to Normandy, the border fortress was held for several generations.[605] He scorned to agree to a surrender which he looked on as dangerous and disgraceful;[606] he shut himself up in the castle with a strong force, and there endured a siege at the hands of the King. Besides his own subjects, Henry had a large body of Normans in the besieging host.[607] It is not clear whether these were Normans of the disaffected party, or whether the Duke’s own adherents, when they had once pledged themselves to surrender the castle, deemed it expedient to display this excess of zeal against a comrade who had carried his loyalty to the extreme of |Tillières surrendered and burned.| disobedience. It is certain that it was only in deference to orders given in the Duke’s name, and which seem to imply the Duke’s personal presence,[608] that the gallant Gilbert at last surrendered his trust. The fortress of which Normandy had been so proud was handed over to the French King, and was at once given to the flames, to the sorrow of every true Norman heart.[609] The King pledged himself, as one of the conditions of the surrender, not to restore the fortress for four years.[610] But, if the Norman writers may be trusted, he grossly belied his faith. His somewhat unreasonable demand had been granted, and no further provocation seems to have been given on the Norman side. But, now that the protecting fortress |Henry invades Normandy and restores Tillières.| was dismantled, Henry ventured on an actual invasion. He retired for a while; but he soon returned and crossed the border. He passed through the County of Hiesmes, the old appanage of Duke Robert; from the valley of the Dive he passed into the valley of the Orne, and burned the Duke’s own town of Argentan. He then returned laden with booty, and, on his way back, in defiance of his engagements, he restored and garrisoned the dismantled fortress of Tillières.[611] The border fortress, so long the cherished defence of Normandy, now became the sharpest thorn in her side.

It is impossible to doubt that this devastation of the County of Hiesmes was made by special agreement with the man who was most bound to defend it. The commander of the district was Thurstan surnamed Goz, the son of Ansfrid the Dane.[612] In this description, so long after the first occupation of the country, we must recognize a son of a follower of Harold Blaatand,[613] not a son of an original companion of Rolf. And a son of a follower of Harold Blaatand must have been by this time a man advanced in life. But neither his age and office, nor his Scandinavian |Treason of Thurstan Goz.| descent and name, hindered Thurstan from playing into the hands of the French invaders. Seeing that the Duke had been thus compelled to yield to the King, Thurstan |He garrisons Falaise Castle against the Duke.| looked upon the moment as one propitious for revolt. He took some of the King’s soldiers into his pay, and with their help he garrisoned the castle of Falaise against the Duke.[614] Young William’s indignation was naturally great. To select that particular spot as a centre of rebellion was not only a flagrant act of disloyalty, but the grossest of personal insults. Acting under the guidance of his guardian Ralph of Wacey, he summoned all loyal Normans to his standard, and advanced to the siege of his |The castle besieged and taken by the Duke and Ralph of Wacey.| birthplace. The castle was attacked by storm, a fact which shows that the town was loyal, proud as it well might be of numbering among its sons not only a sovereign, but a sovereign who was beginning to be renowned even in his boyhood. It was only on the side of the town that the castle could be assaulted in this way. William himself could hardly have swarmed up the steep cliffs which looked down upon the dwelling of his grandfather, nor could he, like the English invader four centuries later, command the fortress by artillery planted on the opposite heights. By dint of sheer personal strength and courage, the gallant Normans assaulted the massive walls of the Norman fortress, in the heart of the Norman land, which French hirelings, in the pay of a Norman traitor, were defending against the prince to whom that fortress owes a renown which can never pass away. Their attacks made a breach, perhaps not in the donjon itself, but at any rate in its external defences; night alone, we are told, put an end to the combat, and saved Thurstan and his party from all the horrors of a storm. But the rebel chief now saw that his hopes were vain; he sought a parley with the Duke, and was allowed to go away unhurt on condition of perpetual banishment from Normandy. |Thurstan’s descendants, the Earls of Chester.| Thurstan’s son, Richard, Viscount of Avranches, proved a loyal servant to William, and in the end procured the pardon of his father.[615] The son of the loyal Richard, the grandson of the rebel Thurstan, finds a place in English history by the name of Hugh the Wolf, the first of the mighty but short-lived line of the Counts Palatine of Chester.[616]

Developement of Williams’s character.

The young Duke’s great qualities were now fast displaying themselves. At the earliest age which the rules of chivalry allowed, he received the ensigns of knighthood from King Henry, and his subjects now began, not without reason, to look forward to a season of peace and order under his rule.[617] We hardly need the exaggerated talk of his extravagant panegyrist to feel sure that William, at an unusually early age, taught men to see in him the born ruler. We hear, not only of his grace and skill in every warlike exercise, not only of his wisdom in the choice of his counsellors, but of his personally practising every virtue that becomes a man and a prince. William, we are told, was fervent in his devotions, righteous in his judgements, and he dealt out a justice as strict as that of Godwine or Harold upon all disturbers of the public peace.[618] All this we can well believe. Of all these virtues he retained many traces to the last. A long career of ambition, craft, and despotic rule, never utterly seared his conscience, never brought him down to the level of those tyrants who neither fear God nor regard man. And in the fresh and generous days of youth, we can well believe that one so highly gifted, and who as yet had so little temptation to abuse his gifts, must have shone forth before all men as the very model of every princely virtue. In one important point however, the public acts of William, or of those who acted in his name, hardly bear out the language of his |Ecclesiastical appointments abused by the Norman Dukes.| panegyrists. His first ecclesiastical appointments were quite unworthy of the prince who was, somewhat later in life, to learn to appreciate and to reward the virtues of Lanfranc and Anselm. The two greatest preferments of the Norman Church fell vacant during this period, and the way in which they were filled illustrates a not uncommon practice of the Norman princes which had few or no parallels in England. There have been few instances in England in any age of great spiritual preferments being perverted into means of maintenance for cadets or bastards of the royal house. In Normandy, at least since the days of Richard the Fearless, the practice had been shamefully common, and in the early days of William the scandal still continued.

It must be remembered that the Prelates of Normandy, |Position of the Norman Prelates.| like the Prelates of the other great fiefs of the French Crown, were, in every sense, the subjects of the Princes within whose immediate dominions they found themselves. Here was one great point of difference between the condition of France and the condition of Germany. In Germany all the great churchmen, in every part of the country, held immediately of the Emperor. Every Bishop was therefore reckoned as a Prince. The episcopal city also commonly became a Free City of the Empire, and, as such, a commonwealth enjoying practical independence. |Their subjection to the Ducal authority.| No such oases of ecclesiastical or municipal privilege interrupted the continuous dominion of a Norman or Aquitanian Duke. The Metropolitan of Rouen or of Bourdeaux might be either the loyal subject or the refractory vassal of his immediate Prince; but in no case was he a coordinate sovereign, owning no superior except in the common overlord. It is only among the Bishops within the Crown lands, those who, in the extemporized jurisprudence of a later age, sat as Peers of France, alongside of the great Dukes and Counts, that the slightest signs of any such hierarchical independence can be discerned. At an earlier age we have indeed seen the metropolitan see of Rheims holding a position which faintly approached that of Mainz or Köln;[619] but even Rheims had now considerably fallen from its ancient greatness, and no such claims to princely authority were at any time put forward by the proudest Prelate of Rouen or Bayeux. It was as Count of Evreux, rather than as Primate of Normandy, that Archbishop Robert had been able to make himself so troublesome to |Death of Archbishop Robert. 1037.| his nephew and sovereign. That turbulent Prelate, after an episcopate of forty-eight years, had amended his ways, and had at last vacated both County and Archbishoprick by death.[620] In his temporal capacity he was succeeded by a son and a grandson, after whom the County of Evreux passed by an heiress to the house of Montfort, giving the Count-Primate the honour of being, through female descendants, a forefather of the great Simon.[621] The vacancy of the Archbishoprick placed the greatest spiritual preferment in the Duchy at the disposal of the young Duke. The choice of the new Primate was as little directed by considerations of ecclesiastical merit as that of his predecessor, and it proved in every way unfortunate. At the |Malger, Archbishop of Rouen. 1037–1055.| head of the Norman Church William’s counsellors placed his uncle Malger, one of the sons of Richard the Good by Papia.[622] We shall presently find him displaying no very priestly qualities, and the only act of his life which could be attributed to Christian or ecclesiastical zeal was one which wounded the Duke himself in the tenderest point. |Odo, Bishop of Bayeux. 1048–1098.| So too, when, some years later, the great see of Bayeux fell vacant, William bestowed it on his half-brother Odo, the son of Herleva by her husband Herlwin of Conteville.[623] Odo, like Hugh of Rheims in earlier times,[624] must have been a mere boy at the time of his appointment;[625] but he held the see of Bayeux for fifty years,[626] and, during most part of that time, his name was famous and terrible on both sides of the Channel. The character which he left |His character in England,| behind him was a singularly contradictory one.[627] In England he was remembered only as the foremost among the conquerors and oppressors of the land, the man who gained for himself a larger share of English hatred than William |1086|. himself, the man whose career of wrong was at last cut short by his royal brother, who, stern and unscrupulous as he was, at least took no pleasure in deeds of wanton oppression. Of Odo’s boundless ambition and love of enterprise there is no doubt. The one quality led him to aspire to the Papal throne;[628] the other led him first to forsake his diocese to rule as an Earl in England, and then to forsake it again to follow his nephew Duke Robert to the first Crusade. That he was no strict observer of ecclesiastical rules in his own person is shown by the fact that he left behind him a son, on whom however he at least bestowed the ecclesiastical name of John.[629] Still Norman |and in Normandy.| ecclesiastical history sets Odo before us in a somewhat fairer light than that in which we see him in English secular history. He at least possessed the episcopal virtue of munificence, and, whatever were the defects of his own conduct, he seems to have been an encourager of learning and good conversation in others. He was bountiful to all, specially to those of his own spiritual household. He |His works at Bayeux. Cathedral consecrated, 1077.| rebuilt his own church at Bayeux, where parts of his work still remain. The lower part of the lofty towers of the western front, the dim and solemn crypt beneath the choir, of that stately and varied cathedral, are relics of the church reared by its most famous Bishop. These precious fragments, severe but far from rude in style, form a striking contrast to the gorgeous arcades which in the next century supplanted Odo’s nave, and to the soaring choir and apse raised by a still later age. Besides renewing the fabric, he increased the number of the clergy of his church, and founded or enriched a monastery in the outskirts of the city, in honour of Saint Vigor, a canonized predecessor in the see of Bayeux.[630] The name of Odo is one which will be constantly recurring in this history, from the day when his Bishop’s staff and warrior’s mace were so successfully wielded against the defenders of England, till the day when he went forth to wield the same weapons against the misbelievers of the East, and found on his road a tomb, far from the heavy pillars and massive arches of his own Bayeux, among the light and gorgeous enrichments with which the art of the conquered Saracen knew how to adorn the palaces and churches of the Norman lords of Palermo.[631]But, though the appointments of Malger and Odo might bode but little good for the cause of ecclesiastical reformation, it is certain that a great movement was at this time |Ecclesiastical movement in Normandy; foundation of monasteries.| going on in the interior of the Norman Church. The middle of the eleventh century was, in Normandy, the most fruitful æra of the foundation of monasteries. The movement in that direction, which had begun under Richard the Fearless, had continued under Richard the Good, and it seems to have reached its height under Robert and William. A Norman noble of that age thought that his estate lacked its chief ornament, if he failed to plant a colony of monks in some corner of his possessions.[632] No doubt the fashion of founding monasteries became, in this case, as in other cases earlier and later, little more than a mere fashion. Many a man must have founded a religious house, not from any special devotion or any special liberality, but simply because it was the regular thing for a man in his position to do.[633] And, as an age of founding monasteries must also be an age in which men are unusually eager to enter the monastic profession, we may infer that many men took that profession on them out of mere imitation or prevalent impulse, without any real |Character of the monastic reformations in various ages.| personal call to the monastic life. Still, though movements of this sort may end in becoming a mere fashion, they never are a mere fashion at their beginning. The Norman Benedictine movement in the eleventh century, the English Cistercian movement in the twelfth century, the still greater movement of the Friars in the thirteenth century—we may add the revulsion in favour of the Seculars in the fourteenth century, and the great Jesuit movement in the sixteenth—all alike point to times when all classes of men were dissatisfied with the existing state of the Church, and were filled with a general desire for its reformation. The evil in every case was that the monastic reformations were never more than temporary. Some new foundations were created, perhaps even some old ones were reformed; the newly kindled fire burned with great fervour for a generation or two; a crop of saints arose, with their due supply of legends and miracles. But presently love again waxed cold; the new foundations fell away like the elder ones, and the next age saw its new order arise, to run the same course of primitive poverty and primitive holiness, degenerating into wealth, indolence, and corruption. Still there is a peculiar charm in contemplating the early years, the infant struggles, the simple and fervent devotion, of one of these religious brotherhoods |Two monasteries claiming special notice, Bec and Saint Evroul.| in the days of its first purity. And, among the countless monasteries which arose in Normandy at this time, there are two which claim some special notice at the hands of an historian whose chief aim is to connect the history of Normandy with that of England. The famous Abbey |Three Archbishops of Canterbury from Bec;| of Bec became the most renowned school of the learning of the time, and, among the other famous men whom it sent forth, it gave three Primates to the throne of Augustine. Thence came Lanfranc, the right hand man of the |Lanfranc, 1070–1089.| Conqueror—the scholar whose learning drew hearers from all Christendom, and before whose logic the heretic stood abashed—the courtier who could win the favour of Kings without stooping to any base compliance with their will—the ruler whose crozier completed the conquest which the ducal sword only began, and who knew how to win the love of the conquered, even while rivetting their fetters. |Anselm, 1093–1109.| Thence too came also the man of simple faith and holiness, the man who, a stranger in a strange land, could feel his heart beat for the poor and the oppressed, the man who braved the wrath of the most terrible of Kings in the cause at once of ecclesiastical discipline and of moral righteousness. Such are the truest claims of Anselm to the reverence of later ages, but it must not be forgotten that, if Bec sent forth in Lanfranc the great reformer of ecclesiastical discipline, it sent forth also in his successor the father of the whole dogmatic theology of later times. |Theobald, 1139–1161.| The third Metropolitan who found his way from Bec to Canterbury cannot compete with the fame of either of his great predecessors; yet Theobald lives in history as the first to discern the native powers of one whose renown presently came to outshine the renown of Lanfranc and Anselm. The early patron of Thomas the burgher’s son of London may fairly claim some reflected share of the glory which surrounds the name of Thomas the Chancellor of England, the Primate and the Martyr of Canterbury. |Ouche or Saint Evroul.| By the side of the house which sent forth men like these the name of the other Norman monastery of which I speak may seem comparatively obscure. Yet the Abbey of Ouche or Saint Evroul has its own claim on our respect. It was the spot which beheld the composition of the record from which we draw our main knowledge of the times following |The home of Orderic Vital.| those with which we have immediately to deal; it was the home of the man in whom, perhaps more than in any other, the characters of Norman and Englishman were inseparably mingled. There the historian wrote, who, though the son of a French father, the denizen of a Norman monastery, still clave to England as his country and gloried in his English birth[634]—the historian who could at once admire the greatness of the Conqueror and sympathize with the wrongs of his victims, who, amid all the conventional reviling which Norman loyalty prescribed, could still see and acknowledge with genuine admiration the virtues and the greatness even of the perjured Harold.[635] To have merely produced a chronicler may seem faint praise beside the fame of producing men whose career has had a lasting influence on the human mind; yet, even beside the long bead-roll of the worthies of Bec, some thought may well be extended to the house where Orderic recorded the minutest details of the lives alike of the saints and of the warriors of his time.

Early history of Bec.

The tale of the early days of Bec is one of the most captivating in the whole range of monastic history or monastic legend. It has a character of its own. The origin of Bec differs from that of those earlier monasteries which gradually grew up around the dwelling-place or the burial-place of some revered Bishop or saintly hermit. It differs again from the origin of those monasteries of its own age which were the creation of some one external founder. Or rather it united the two characters in one. It gradually rose to greatness from very small beginnings; but, gradual as the process was, it took place within the lifetime of one man. And that man was at once its founder and its first ruler. The part of Cuthberht at Lindisfarne, the parts of William and of Lanfranc at Caen, |Herlwin, founder of Bec, born 994.| were all united in Herlwin, Knight, Founder, and Abbot. This famous man passed thirty-seven years of his life as a man of the world, a Norman gentleman and soldier. His father Ansgod boasted of a descent from the first |His descent| Danes who occupied Neustria,[636] that is to say, from the original companions of Rolf as distinguished from the later settlers under Harold Blaatand.[637] And this descent agrees with the geographical position of his estates, which lay, though on the left bank of the Seine, yet on the right bank of the Dive, within the limits of the original grant of Charles the Simple.[638] On the spindle side he boasted of a still higher ancestry; his mother Heloise is said, on what authority it is not very clear, to have been a near |and early life.| kinswoman of the reigning house of Flanders.[639] He was a vassal of Count Gilbert of Brionne, the faithful guardian of William, in the neighbourhood of whose castle his own estates lay. He had proved his faithfulness to his immediate lord by many services of various kinds, and he had won the favour, not only of Count Gilbert but of their common sovereign Duke Robert. On one occasion, an injury received from the Count had caused him to forsake |His virtues.| his service. But presently the Count was engaged in a more dangerous warfare with Ingelram, Count of Ponthieu. Herlwin with his followers came at a critical moment to Gilbert’s help, and the Count restored all, and more than all, that he had taken away from one who so well knew how to return good for evil.[640] At another time Gilbert sent Herlwin to the ducal court on an errand of which his conscience disapproved;[641] he failed to execute the unjust commission; in revenge the Count ravaged the lands of Herlwin and did great damage to their poor occupiers.[642] Herlwin went to the Count, and made light of his own injury, but prayed that in any case the losses of the poor might be made good to them. Such a man was already a saint in practice, if not in profession; and we have no right to assume that, in this carrying out of Christian principles into daily life, Herlwin stood alone among the gallant gentlemen of Normandy. But the misfortune always was that men like Herlwin, who were designed to leaven the world by their virtues, were in that age open to so many temptations to forsake the world |He contemplates monastic retirement.| altogether. Herlwin began to feel himself out of place in the secular world of Normandy, full, as it was in those days, of strife and bloodshed, where every man sought to win justice for himself by his own sword. But he was hardly more out of place in the Norman ecclesiastical world, where priests not only married freely, but bore arms and lived the life of heathen Danes,[643] and where even monks used their fists in a way which would hardly have been becoming in laymen.[644] The faith of Herlwin nearly failed him when he saw the disorder of one famous monastery; but he was comforted by accidentally beholding the devotions of one godly brother, who spent the whole night in secret prayer. He was thus convinced that the salt of the earth had not as yet wholly lost its savour.[645]

Herlwin begins his foundation at Burneville. 1034.

Herlwin now, at the age of forty, retired from the world, and received the habit of religion from Herbert, Bishop of Lisieux.[646] Count Gilbert released him from his service, and seemingly released his lands from all feudal dependence on himself.[647] Herlwin then began the foundation of a monastery on his own estate of Burneville near Brionne.[648] A few devotees soon gathered round him. They lived a hard life, Herlwin himself joining them in tilling the ground, and in raising with his own hands the church and the other buildings needed by the infant brotherhood.[649] The |He becomes Priest and Abbot. 1037.| church, when finished, was consecrated by Bishop Herbert, who at the same time ordained Herlwin a priest, and gave him the usual benediction as Abbot of the new society.[650] About the same time he for the first time learned to read, and that to such good purpose that he gradually became mighty in the Scriptures, and that without ever neglecting the daily toil which his austere discipline imposed upon himself.[651] His mother Heloise also, struck by the example of her son, gave up her dower-lands, and became a sort of serving sister to the brotherhood, washing their clothes, and doing for them other menial services.[652] But after a while it was found that the site of Burneville was unsuited for a religious establishment; it seems not to have been well supplied with the two great monastic necessities of wood |He removes the monastery to Bec.| and water.[653] Herlwin therefore determined to remove his infant colony to a spot better suited to his purpose, a spot to which his own name has ever since been inseparably attached. A wooded hill divides the valley of the Risle, with the town and castle of Brionne, from another valley watered by a small stream, or, in the old Teutonic speech of the Normans, a beck.[654] That stream gave its name to the most famous of Norman religious houses, and to this day the name of Bec is never uttered to denote that spot without the distinguishing addition of the name of Herlwin. |Present condition of the spot.| The hills are still thickly wooded; the beck still flows, through rich meadows and under trees planted by the water-side, by the walls of what once was the renowned monastery to which it gave its name. But of the days of Herlwin no trace remains besides these imperishable works of nature. A tall tower, of rich and fanciful design, one of the latest works of mediæval skill, still attracts the traveller from a distance; but of the mighty minster itself all traces, save a few small fragments, have perished.[655] The monastic buildings, like those of so many other monasteries in Normandy and elsewhere in Gaul, had been rebuilt in the worst days of art, and they are now applied to the degrading purposes of a receptacle of French cavalry. The gateway also remains, but it is, like the rest of the buildings, of a date far later than the days of Herlwin. The truest memorial of that illustrious Abbey is now to be found in the parish church of the neighbouring village. In that lowly shelter is still preserved the effigy with which after times had marked the resting-place of the Founder. Such are all the traces which now remain of the house which once owned Lanfranc and Anselm as its inmates.

Herlwin’s government as Abbot.

In this valley it was that Herlwin finally fixed his infant settlement, devoting to it his own small possessions in the valley itself, and obtaining from Count Gilbert a grant of the adjoining wood, one of the most precious possessions of the lordship of Brionne.[656] There Herlwin built his first church, and added a wooden cloister, which he afterwards exchanged for one of stone.[657] There he ruled his house in peace and wisdom, his knowledge of the outer world, and especially his familiarity with the laws of Normandy, standing him, we are told, in good stead.[658] Bec seemed destined to the ordinary lot of a monastic house—to a short succession of men of primitive zeal and primitive virtue, followed by a period of worldly prosperity, leading to its usual results of coldness and laxity. And such doubtless would have been its fate, the glory of Bec would have been as transitory as that of other monastic houses, but for the appearance of |Effects of the admission of Lanfranc.| one illustrious man, who came to be enrolled as a private member of the brotherhood, and who gave Bec for a while a special and honourable character with which hardly any other monastery in Christendom could compare. Abbot |Herlwin’s death. 1078.| Herlwin survived his first conversion forty-four years;[659] his first humble church was pulled down and rebuilt, and |The church consecrated by Lanfranc. 1077.| the new fabric was hallowed in his presence by one whom he had himself received to the monastic order, one who had made Bec the light of the world, and who then returned to his old home in all the greatness of the Patriarch of the nations beyond the sea.[660] If the first origin of the house was owing to the simple devotion of its founder and Abbot Herlwin, its lasting fame and splendour were no less owing to the varied learning and soaring genius of its renowned Prior Lanfranc.

Origin and character of Lanfranc.

The future Primate of England was one of the most illustrious witnesses to that feature in the Norman character which made the men of that race welcome strangers from every quarter, and which led to the settlement of so many eminent men of various nations, both in Normandy itself and in the conquered lands of Britain and Sicily.[661] In the days of Richard the Good, monks and priests had flocked into Normandy, even from such distant lands as Greece and Armenia, and the Norman Duke had kept up a close intercourse even with the monks of Mount Sinai.[662] The first great teacher of Bec came from a nearer, though |His birth at Pavia. 1005.| still a distant, region. Lanfranc, Prior of Bec, Abbot of Saint Stephen’s, Archbishop of Canterbury, was a native of the Lombard city of Pavia, and was born of a family which, though perhaps not technically noble, was at any rate |His learning;| eminent and honourable.[663] He was full of all the secular learning of the time, and his range of study seems to have taken in the unusual accomplishment of a knowledge of Greek.[664] A knowledge of that tongue was then probably less rare than it became somewhat later, and it is an accomplishment which might be looked for in Italy, even in the northern part of the peninsula, more naturally than |his knowledge of Greek,| in any country north of the Alps. At the time of Lanfranc’s birth and youth, a large part of Southern Italy was still subject to the Eastern Emperors, and the use of the Greek language survived, both in Sicily and on the main land, long after the establishment of the Norman dynasty. A knowledge of that tongue must therefore have been highly expedient for those who were likely to have any intercourse, diplomatic or commercial, with the parts of Italy where it was spoken; still we cannot suppose that its acquirement formed any part of the ordinary course of study |and of Civil Law.| of a Lombard scholar. But the great object of Lanfranc’s study was one specially adapted to the Imperialist city where he was born, the study of the Civil Law. It was an hereditary calling in his family; his father Hanbald had been a lawyer of distinction,[665] and his son more than maintained the credit of his house. As a pleader, he was eminently successful; the veterans of the courts could not resist the eloquence and the learning with which he spoke, and his legal opinions were accepted as decisive by the magistrates of his native city.[666] His father died while Lanfranc was still young, and his honours and offices were offered to his son.[667] Why a man who had such fair prospects at home should have forsaken that home for the distant and barbarous Normandy, it is not easy to guess.[668] We are told only that he heard that Normandy was a land which |He opens a school at Avranches. 1039.| lacked learning, and that its young Duke was disposed to give encouragement to learned men.[669] At all events, early in the period of anarchy which formed the early years of the reign of William, Lanfranc came into Normandy with a following of scholars, and opened a school in the episcopal city of Avranches.[670] The cathedral church of that |1172.| city beheld in after times the penance by which the greatest successor of William atoned for his share in the death of the most renowned among the successors of Lanfranc. But the glory of Avranches has passed away. From it, alone among the seven episcopal towns of Normandy, minster and Bishoprick have wholly vanished.[671] But, for those few years of the life of Lanfranc, Avranches must have been an intellectual centre without a rival on this side of the Alps. The fame of the great teacher was spread abroad, and scholars flocked to him from all quarters. But as yet his learning was wholly secular; his pursuits were peaceful, but he thought perhaps less of divine things than Herlwin had thought when he rode after Count Gilbert to battle. At last divine grace touched his heart; a sudden conversion made him resolve to embrace the monastic |He becomes a monk at Bec. 1042.| profession. He left Avranches suddenly, without giving any notice to his friends and scholars, and set forth to seek for the poorest and most lowly monastery that could be found, for one which his own fame had never reached.[672] A happy accident led him to Bec, which then fully answered his ideal.[673] Received as a monk by Abbot Herlwin, he strove to hide himself from the world; he even at one time thought of leaving the monastery, and leading a life of utter solitude in the wilderness.[674] But the |He becomes Prior. 1045.| Abbot required him on his obedience to remain, and he was advanced to the dignity of Prior.[675] He had already proved his fitness to command by his readiness to obey. His predecessor in the Priorship, an unlearned man, had bidden him, when reading in the refectory, to shorten the second syllable of docere. The great scholar did as he was bid, deeming holy obedience to be something higher than the rules of Donatus.[676] But such necessity was not long laid upon him; such a light as his could not long be hid under a bushel; his fame was again spread abroad, and, with it, the fame of the house in which he sojourned. Clerks and scholars, men of noble birth, even sons of princes, flocked to profit by the instruction of the learned Prior, and enriched the Abbey with costly gifts for his sake.[677] The society increased so fast that the buildings were found to be too small, and the site not healthy enough for so great a multitude.[678] By the persuasion of Lanfranc, Herlwin was induced to change his abode once more, and to raise a third house, larger and more stately than either of its predecessors,[679] but still within the same valley and |His favour with William.| upon the banks of the same beck. At last the name of the Prior of Bec reached the ears of Duke William himself. Lanfranc became his trusted counsellor,[680] and we shall presently find him acting zealously and successfully on his sovereign’s behalf, in pursuit of the object which, next to the Crown of England, was nearest to William’s heart. |He appears at the Synods of Rome and Vercelli. 1049, 1050.| The fame of Lanfranc soon spread beyond the bounds of Normandy; he appeared, as we have already seen, at a succession of synods, as the champion of the received doctrine of the Church.[681] The theological position of Lanfranc I leave to be discussed by others;[682] it is enough to say that, summoned before Pope and Council as a suspected heretic, he came away from Rome and Vercelli with the reputation of the most profound and most orthodox doctor of his time.[683]

The monastery of Ouche or Saint Evroul.

The monastery of Ouche or Saint Evroul had, as far as the eleventh century was concerned, an origin of a different kind from that of Bec; but its story is really little more than that of Bec carried back into an earlier age. That is to say, while Bec was altogether a new foundation, Saint Evroul was, like many other religious houses both in England and Normandy, a restoration of an earlier one. In both countries the Scandinavian invaders had destroyed or pillaged countless churches and monasteries. Many of these last, sometimes after complete destruction, sometimes after dragging on a feeble existence during the intermediate time, rose again, like Crowland and Jumièges, in more than their former greatness. But the case of Saint Evroul was a peculiar one. Its temporary fall was owing, not to the devastations of heathen Northmen, but to the wars between Christian |Story of Ebrulf or Evroul. 575.| Normandy and Christian France. The history of its founder, Ebrulf or Evroul, a saint of the sixth century, is, in many respects, a forestalling of the history of Herlwin of Bec.[684] Of noble birth in the city of Bayeux,—perhaps therefore of Saxon, rather than of either Frankish or Gaulish, blood,—high in favour at the court of Hlothar the son of Hlodwig, he lived, even as a layman, the life of a saint.[685] At last he forsook the world; his wife and himself both took monastic vows; but Ebrulf, as Lanfranc had wished to do, presently forsook his monastery for a deeper seclusion. With three companions only, he sought out a lonely spot by the river Charenton, close by the forest of Ouche, on the borders of the dioceses of Lisieux, Evreux, and Seez. There he lived a hermit’s life, adorned, as we are told, by many miracles,[686] and his cell, like the cell of Guthlac at Crowland, became the small beginning of a |Monastery of Saint Evroul; it escapes the Danish ravages;| famous monastery. The secluded site of the house saved it from the ravages of the Northmen, and the votaries of Saint Evroul, with almost unique good luck, remained undisturbed, while Hasting and Rolf were overthrowing so many holy places of their brethren elsewhere.[687] But, during the troubled minority of Richard the Fearless, when King Lewis of Laôn and Duke Hugh of Paris were invading the defenceless Duchy,[688] the monks of Saint Evroul received two seemingly honourable, but, as it |but is pillaged by Hugh the Great. 943.| turned out, highly dangerous, guests. These were Herlwin, Abbot of Saint Peter’s at Orleans, the Chancellor of Hugh the Great, and Ralph of Drangy his Chamberlain.[689] Both, we are told, were men of great piety, but they showed their piety in a strange fashion. Soon after their visit, Duke Hugh gave orders for the ravage of that part of Normandy. His devout officers either despised or scrupled at plunder of a more vulgar kind;[690] they remembered the hospitality of the monks of Saint Evroul, and requited it by carrying off all the ornaments of their church, including, what they most valued, the relics of their founder and other saints. The holy spoil was duly shared among various churches of the Duchy of France,[691] and a large |The monastery forsaken.| body of the monks of Saint Evroul followed the objects of their veneration. A few however remained behind, and the brotherhood still dragged on a feeble existence for some time. At last the house of Saint Evroul was utterly forsaken and forgotten, and miracles were needed to point |The church restored by Restold.| out the spot where it had stood. A pious priest[692] from Beauvais, Restold by name, moved by a divine vision, came and dwelt on the spot, and found benefactors willing to repair the ruined church.[693] At last one special benefactor |Geroy and his family.| arose. Geroy, a man of great valour and piety, was lord of Escalfoy by the forest of Ouche, and of Montreuil near the Dive.[694] Of mingled French and Breton extraction, he had been attached to the fortunes of the elder William of Belesme, probably as a vassal of some of the estates held by him under the Crown of France. In a |c. 1015.| fight against Count Herbert of Maine, when William and all the rest of his followers had fled, Geroy regained the day by his single valour.[695] In return for this exploit, William introduced him at the court of Richard the Good, by whom he was allowed to succeed to the lordships already spoken of.[696] They had been the property of Helgo, a Norman noble, to whose daughter Geroy had been betrothed, but the marriage was hindered by the premature death of the bride.[697] By another wife he had a numerous family, many of whom were distinguished in Norman |William son of Geroy.| history.[698] He was himself succeeded by his second son William who, like his father, was attached to the house of Belesme, and also distinguished himself in the war with Maine.[699] He had however to contend for the possession of his estates against the violence of Count Gilbert of Brionne, a man who, on this as on some other occasions,[700] seems to have failed to carry into his private relations those principles of honourable conduct which in so marked a way distinguished his administration of public affairs. William was a brave soldier and a faithful vassal, ready to undergo any personal loss on behalf of his lord or of his friend.[701] He was also bountiful to the Church, though he strictly maintained the ecclesiastical privileges of his own lordships.[702] Twice he made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, once during the height of his prosperity, and once after the great misfortune which clouded his later days. For |Blinded by William Talvas.| he it was whom the fierce Talvas, in defiance of every tie of gratitude, of hospitality, and of feudal honour, blinded and mutilated when he came as a guest to his bridal.[703] The daughter of Talvas too, the cruel Mabel, pursued the house of Geroy throughout life with unrelenting hatred.[704] |He grants Saint Evroul to Bec.| In his old age he became a monk at Bec, a house to which he had already been a benefactor.[705] He had given to Herlwin and his monks the lands of Saint Evroul and the church lately restored by Restold. It now became a cell to the Abbey, inhabited by a small body of monks with Lanfranc at their head.[706] But presently William’s nephews, Hugh and Robert of Grantmesnil,[707] were designing the foundation of a monastery near the lordship on the Oudon from which they took their name. Of these two brothers, Robert became a monk of Saint Evroul; of Hugh we shall hear again in the history both |Restoration of Saint Evroul. 1050.| of Normandy and of England. Their pious uncle approved of the design, but pointed out that the site which they had chosen was lacking in the two great monastic necessaries of wood and water.[708] Let them rather join with him in restoring to its ancient splendour the fallen house of Saint Evroul, placed on a spot suited for every monastic want.[709] Uncle and nephews joined their energies and their purses; the rights of Bec over the church and lands were exchanged for another estate, and the new Saint Evroul arose with the full licence of Duke William, of Archbishop Malger, and of the other Prelates of Normandy. Monks were brought from Jumièges, and a brother of |1050.| that house, Theodoric by name, became the first Abbot of the new foundation.[710] But the house seems to have been |1058.| far less fortunate than Bec in its rulers. Theodoric after a while laid aside his office, driven to resignation, it is said, by the cabals of the co-founder Robert of Grantmesnil, who, having made his profession in the house, had obtained |1059.| the rank of Prior.[711] Robert was chosen to the |1063.| Abbotship, but, a few years after, he was himself deposed, or driven to resignation, by Duke William,[712] and long controversies followed between him and his successor Osbern.[713]

I have given a sketch of the origin of these two famous monasteries, partly because their stories bring before us so many members of the leading Norman families, but mainly |Connexion of the religious movement in Normandy with the Conquest of England.| as illustrating the great religious movement which was then at work in Normandy, and which was not without its share in bringing about the Conquest of England. When we come to a later stage in our history, we shall see with what art William, and his trusty counsellor Lanfranc, contrived to appeal to the religious feelings of the Normans, to represent the English King as a sinner against the local saints of Normandy, and to represent the Conquest of England as a holy war undertaken to chastise the ungodly. Such a vein of sentiment could hardly have been safely appealed to except at a time when there was a great religious stir in the national mind. One side of this movement is shown in the foundation of so many monasteries, in the zeal with which men gave of their substance for their erection, in the eagerness with which men, often the same men, pressed to become members of the holy brotherhoods. But a still more honourable fruit of the religious mind of Normandy, one however which Normandy only shared with many other parts of Europe, is to be found in the acceptance during this period of the famous Truce of God.

The Truce of God.

This extraordinary institution is the most speaking witness, at once to the ferocity of the times, and also to the deep counter feeling which underlaid men’s minds. Clergy and laity alike felt that the state of things which they saw daily before their eyes was a standing sin against God and man, repugnant alike to natural humanity and to the precepts of the Christian religion. States were everywhere so subdivided, governments were everywhere so weak, that, in most parts of Europe, every man who had the needful force at his command simply did that which was right in his own eyes. We cannot doubt that in those parts of Britain where the authority of the English Kings was really established, the evil was smaller than it was in any part of Gaul.[714] Neither can we doubt that in Normandy, during the minority of William, the evil was even greater than it was in other parts of Gaul. But the extreme disorder of that minority was simply an exaggerated form of what might be called the normal state of things throughout the greater part of Western |Private war.| Europe. Every man claimed the right of private war against every other man who was not bound to him by any special tie as his lord or his vassal. And the distinction between private war and mere robbery and murder was not always very sharply drawn. It is clear that, in such a state of things, an utterly unscrupulous man, to whom warfare, however unjust, was a mere trifle, had a decided advantage over his more peaceable neighbours. A few such men as William Talvas might throw a whole province into disorder; and men who were in no way naturally disposed to wrong or violence were necessarily driven to constant warfare in sheer self-defence. The poor and the weak were of course the chief victims; when one gentleman harried the lands of another, the immediate tillers of the earth must have suffered far more severely than their master. It was the tenants of Herlwin, rather than Herlwin himself, who had most bitterly to complain |Undercurrent against the violence of the time.| of the ravages of Count Gilbert.[715] The lower classes then had especial reason to curse the lawlessness of the times; yet we can well believe that there were many men of higher rank, who were dragged into these wretched contests against their own will, and who would have been well pleased to keep their swords sheathed, save when the lawful command of their sovereign required them to be drawn. These two contending feelings can always be traced side by side. Every attempt to put any kind of check on the violence of the times was always received with general good will; and yet the practical result of so many praiseworthy attempts was, after all, something extremely small. The men who were ready to keep the peace, and to observe the rules made to preserve it, were left in a manner at the mercy of those who refused to obey any rule whatsoever. Whatever laws were made to preserve the peace, the peaceable man was still, as before, driven to fight in his own defence. Still the movement in favour of law and order was a very remarkable and a very general one. The call to observe peace towards Christians at home was a call, quite as general, though much more gradual, than the call to wage war against the |Comparison between the Truce of God and the Crusades.| Infidels in other lands. But the call to the Crusade fell in with every side of the temper of the times; the proclamation of the Truce of God fell in with only one, and that its least powerful, side. Good and bad men alike were led by widely different motives to rush to the Holy War. The men who endeavoured to obey the Truce of God must often have found themselves the helpless victims of those who despised it.

A movement on behalf of peace and good will towards |The form taken by the movement necessarily ecclesiastical.| men could not fail in those days to assume an ecclesiastical form. As of old the Amphiktyonic Council, the great religious synod of Greece, strove to put some bounds to the horrors of war as waged between Greek and Greek,[716] so now, in the same spirit, a series of Christian synods strove, by means of ecclesiastical decrees and ecclesiastical censures, to put some bounds to the horrors of war as |Moderation of the reform attempted.| waged between Christian and Christian. And at both times the spiritual power showed its wisdom in not attempting too much. War was not wholly forbidden in either case, for such a precept would have been hopelessly impossible to carry out. But certain extreme measures were to be avoided, certain classes of persons were to be respected, certain holy seasons were to be kept altogether free from warfare. Such at least was the form in which the Truce of God was preached in Normandy. But Normandy was one of the last countries to receive the Truce, and it seems not to have appeared there in its earliest shape. It would rather seem as if the first attempts at its establishment had tried to compass too much, and as if later preachers of peace had been driven to content themselves with a much less close approach to |The Truce first preached in Aquitaine. 1034.| universal brotherhood. The movement began in Aquitaine, and the vague and rhetorical language of our authority would seem to imply that all war, at any rate all private war, was forbidden under pain of ecclesiastical censures.[717] It must not be forgotten that, in that age, it |Difficulty of defining public and private war.| must have been exceedingly difficult to draw the distinction between public and private war. In England indeed, where an efficient constitutional system existed, the distinction was plain. Except when sudden invasion required the immediate action of the local power, no war could be lawful which was not decreed by the King and his Witan. There might be rebellions and civil wars, but there was no recognized private warfare in the continental sense. But in Gaul it would have been impossible to deny the right of war and peace to the great vassals of the Crown, to the sovereigns of Normandy and Aquitaine. And, if the vassals of the Crown might make war on each other, on what principle could the same right be refused to their vassals, to the Lords of Alençon and Brionne? Among the endless links of the feudal chain, it was hard to find the exact point where sovereignty ended and where simple property began. A preacher therefore who denounced private war must have had some difficulty in |Enthusiastic reception of the Truce.| so doing without denouncing war altogether. But the doctrine, hard as it might be to carry out in practice, was rapturously received at its first announcement. As the first preaching of the Crusade was met with one universal cry of “God wills it,” so the Bishops, Abbots, and other preachers of the Truce were met with a like universal cry of Peace, Peace, Peace.[718] Men bound themselves to God and to one another to abstain from all wrong and violence, and they engaged solemnly to renew the obligation every five years.[719] From Aquitaine the movement spread through Burgundy, royal and ducal.[720] But it seems to have been gradually found that the establishment |Relaxation about 1041.| of perfect peace on earth was hopeless. After seven years from the first preaching of peace, we find the requirements of its apostles greatly relaxed. It was found vain to forbid all war, even all private war. All that was now attempted was to forbid violence of every kind from the evening of Wednesday till the morning of Monday.[721] It |Reception of the Truce in Burgundy and Lotharingia.| was in this shape that the Truce was first preached in northern and eastern Gaul. The days of Christ’s supper, of His passion, of His rest in the grave and His resurrection, were all to be kept free from strife and bloodshed. The Burgundian Bishops were zealous in the cause; so especially was Richard, Bishop of Verdun in Lotharingia.[722] But Bishop Gerard of Cambray maintained, on the other |Opposition of Gerard of Cambray.| hand, that the whole affair was no concern of the ecclesiastical power. It was, he argued, the business of temporal rulers to fight, and the business of spiritual men to pray; the pious scheme of his brethren could never be carried out, and the attempt to enforce it could lead only to an increase of false-swearing.[723] This Prelate, in his worldly wisdom, seems to have looked deeper into the hearts of the men of his time than his more hopeful and enthusiastic brethren. At last the new teaching reached Normandy. The luxury of mutual destruction was dear to the Norman mind; for a long time any restraint upon it was strongly resisted, and even the preaching of Bishop Richard himself had for a long time no effect.[724] Miracles were needed to convince so stiff-necked a generation, but at last the apostolic labours of Hagano, the successor of Richard, |The Truce received at the Councils of Caen [1042],| brought even Normandy to a better mind.[725] The young Duke and his counsellors were urgent in behalf of the Truce, and it was at last received by the Clergy and Laity of Normandy in the famous Council held for that purpose at Caen.[726] We are told that it was most carefully observed;[727] but, nearly forty years after, when the long reign of William was drawing towards its end, it had to be |and Lillebonne [1080].| again ordained in another Council at Lillebonne, and all the powers of the State, ecclesiastical and temporal, were called on to help in enforcing its observance.[728]The men who laboured to put even this small check on the violence of the times are worthy of eternal honour, and it is probable that the institution of the Truce of God really did something for a while to lessen the frightful anarchy into which Normandy had fallen. But we can hardly doubt that a far more effectual check was supplied by the increasing strength of William’s government, as he drew nearer to manhood, and more and more fully displayed the stern and vigorous determination of his character. But neither the one nor the other could avail wholly to preserve Normandy for some years to come |Wide spread conspiracy against William. 1047.| either from civil war or from foreign invasion. A far more deeply spread conspiracy than any that we have as yet heard of was now formed against the Duke. We have now reached one of the great epochs in the life of the Conqueror; we shall soon have to tell of his first battle and his first victory. Within a few years after the proclamation of the Truce of God, not this or that isolated Baron, but the whole of the most Norman part of Normandy |Intrigues of Guy of Burgundy.| rose in open revolt against its sovereign. The prime mover in the rebellion was Guy of Burgundy.[729] He |His friendship with the Duke, and his large possessions.| had been brought up with the Duke as his friend and kinsman,[730] and he had received large possessions from his bounty. Among other broad lands, he held Vernon, the border fortress on the Seine, so often taken and retaken in the wars between France and Normandy. He held also Brionne, the castle on the Risle, lately the home of William’s faithful guardian Count Gilbert.[731] But the old jealousy was never lulled to sleep; the sway of the Bastard was insupportable, and, the greater the qualities that William displayed, the more insupportable was it doubtless felt to be. William had now reached manhood. After such a discipline as he had gone through, his nineteen years of life had given him all the caution and experience of a far more advanced age. He was as ready and as able to show himself a born leader of men as Cnut had been at the same time of life.[732] The turbulent spirits of Normandy began to feel that they had found a master; unless a blow were struck in time, the days of anarchy and licence, the days of castle-building and oppression, would |He plots with the lords of the Bessin and Côtentin.| soon be over. Guy of Brionne therefore found many ready listeners, especially among the great lords of the true Norman land west of the Dive. He, the lawful heir of their Dukes, no bastard, no tanner’s grandson, but sprung of a lawful marriage between the princely houses of Burgundy and Normandy, claimed the Duchy as his right by birth.[733] But, if the lords of the Bessin and the |Scheme for a division of the Duchy.| Côtentin would aid him in dispossessing the Bastard, he would willingly share the land with them.[734] This most probably means that he would content himself with the more purely French parts of the Duchy, the original grant to Rolf, and would leave the Barons of the later settlements in the enjoyment of independence. We can thus understand, what at first sight seems puzzling, why the cause of Guy was taken up with such zeal. Otherwise it is hard to see why the chiefs of any part of Normandy, and, above all, the chiefs of this more strictly Scandinavian part, should cast aside a prince who was at any rate a native Norman, in favour of one whose connexion with Normandy was only by the spindle side, and who must have seemed |Geographical division of Parties;| in their eyes little better than a Frenchman. We can thus also understand the geographical division of parties during the war which followed. William is faithfully supported by the French districts to the East; by Rouen and the |Rouen and the French lands loyal to William.| whole land to the right of the Dive. These are the districts which the division between Guy and the confederate Lords would have given to the Burgundian prince, and which no doubt armed zealously against any such arrangement. To them the overthrow of William’s authority meant their own handing over to a foreign ruler. But to |Bayeux and the Danish lands join the rebellion.| the inhabitants, at any rate to the great lords, of the Lower Normandy, the Scandinavian land, it would seem that the struggle against the ducal power was simply a struggle for renewed independence. We are told that the sympathies of the mass of the people, even in the Bessin and the Côtentin, lay with William.[735] This is quite possible. The peasant revolt may well have left behind it some root of abiding bitterness, bitterness which would show itself far more strongly against the immediate lords of the soil than against the distant sovereign, who is, in such cases, always looked to as a possible protector. But the great lords of the western districts joined eagerly in the rebellion; and the smaller gentry, willingly or unwillingly, followed their banners. The descendants of the second colony of Rolf,[736] of the colonies of William Longsword and Harold Blaatand, drew the sword against the domination of the districts which, even a hundred years before, had become French.[737] Saxon Bayeux and Danish Coutances rose against Romanized Rouen and Evreux. We know not whether the old speech and the old worship may not still have lingered in some out-of-the-way corners; it is certain that the difference in feeling between the two districts was still living and working, just as the outward difference is still to this day stamped on their inhabitants. |Rebel leaders;| The foremost men of western Normandy at once attached themselves to Guy, and joined zealously in his plans. First in the revolt was Nigel or Neal of Saint Saviour, Viscount[738] of Coutances, the son of the chief who had, forty-six |Neal of Saint Saviour.| years before, beaten back the host of Æthelred.[739] The elder Neal had died, full of years, during the days of anarchy,[740] and his son was destined to an equally long possession of his honours. In the very heart of his peninsula stood his castle by the Ouve, already consecrated by a small college of Canons, the foundation of his grandfather Roger, soon to give way to his own famous Abbey of Saint Saviour.[741] This point formed the natural centre of the whole conspiracy. From that castle, Neal, the ruler of the Côtentin, commanded the whole of that varied region, its rich meads, its hills and valleys, its rocks and marshes, the dreary landes by the great minster of Lessay, the cliffs which look down on the fortress of Cæsar, and which had stood as beacons to guide the sails of Harold Blaatand to the rescue.[742] The Viscount of Saint Saviour now became the chief leader of the rebellion, won over by the promises and gifts of Guy, who did not scruple to rob his mother of her possessions, and to bestow them on his ally.[743] With Neal |Randolf, Viscount of Bayeux.| stood Randolf, Viscount of Bayeux, who, from his castle of Brichessart, held the same sway over the Saxons of the Bessin which Neal held over the Danes of the Côtentin.[744] |Hamon Dentatus.| In the same company was Hamon, lord of Thorigny, lord too of the steep of Creuilly, where a vast fabric of later times has displaced his ancient donjon, and where the adjoining church bears witness to the splendour and bounty of the generation immediately following his own.[745] Some personal peculiarity entitled him to bear, in the language of our Latin chroniclers, one of the most glorious cognomina of old Rome, and Hamon Dentatus became the forefather of men famous in British as well as in Norman history.[746] One loyal chronicler, in his zeal, speaks of the rebel by the strange name of Antichrist;[747] but, as in the case of Thurstan of Falaise, the stain was wiped out in the next generation. His son, Robert Fitz-Hamon, was destined to set the seal to the work of Offa and of Harold, to press down the yoke for ever upon the necks of the southern Cymry, and to surround his princely fortress of Cardiff with the lowlier castles of his twelve homagers of |Grimbald of Plessis.| the land of Morganwg. Hardly less famous was a third Baron from the Saxon land, Grimbald of Plessis, whose ancestors and whose descendants have won no renown, but whose own name still remains impressed upon his fortress, and whose sister’s son became the forefather of a mighty house in England. Of her stock came William of Albini, who, like the Tudor of later days, won the love of a widowed Queen, and whose name still lives among his works in the fortresses of Arundel and Castle Rising.[748] By the help of these men the claims of the Burgundian became widely acknowledged. They swore to support his rights, and to deprive the Bastard of the Duchy which he had invaded, whether by force of arms or by the baser acts |Preparations for the revolt.| of treachery. They put their castles into a state of thorough defence; they stored them for a campaign or a siege,[749] and made ready for the most extensive and thoroughly organized revolt which the troubled reign of the young Duke had yet beheld.

The revolt began, as an earlier revolt had begun,[750] with a treacherous attempt to seize or murder the Duke, in which Grimbald seems to have been the immediate agent.[751] |Attempt to seize William at Valonges.| The opportunity was tempting, as William was now at a point in Neal’s own Viscounty, at no great distance from his own castle. He was at Valognes, the old town so rich in Roman remains, and the rich and fanciful outline of whose Gothic cupola is one of the most striking objects in the architecture of the district. Perhaps some scent of the coming danger had reached him, and he had ventured into the enemy’s country in order to search out matters for himself. But, in any case, he did not neglect the chosen amusement to which he and his race were given up, even beyond other men of their time. Several days had been spent in the employment of William’s favourite weapon the bow[752] against either savage or harmless victims. At |William warned by his fool.| last, one night, when all his party, except his immediate household, had left him, while he was yet in his first sleep, Gallet his fool, like his uncle Walter at an earlier stage of his life,[753] burst into his room, staff in hand, and aroused him. If he did not arise and flee for his life, he would never leave the Côtentin a living man. The Duke arose, |His escape.| half dressed in haste, leaped on his horse, seemingly alone, and rode for his life all that night. A bright moon guided him, and he pressed on till he reached the estuary formed by the rivers Ouve and Vire. There the ebbing tide supplied a ford, which was afterwards known as the Duke’s Way. William crossed in safety, and landed in the district of Bayeux, near the church of Saint Clement. He entered the building, and prayed for God’s help on his way. His natural course would now have been to strike for Bayeux; but the city was in the hands of his enemies; he determined therefore to keep the line between Bayeux and the sea, and thus to take his chance of reaching the loyal districts. As the sun rose, he drew near to the church and castle of Rye,[754] the dwelling-place of a faithful vassal named Hubert. The Lord of Rye was standing at his own gate, between the church and the mound on which his castle was raised.[755] William was still urging on |His reception by Hubert of Rye.| his foaming horse past the gate; but Hubert knew and stopped his sovereign, and asked the cause of this headlong ride. He heard that the Duke was flying for his life before his enemies. He welcomed his prince to his house, he set him on a fresh horse, he bade his three sons ride by his side, and never leave him till he was safely lodged |He reaches Falaise.| in his own castle of Falaise.[756] The command of their father was faithfully executed by his loyal sons. We are not surprised to hear that the house of Rye rose high in William’s favour; and we can hardly grudge them their share in the lands of England, when we find that Eudes the son of Hubert, the King’s Dapifer and Sheriff of Essex, was not only the founder of the great house of Saint John at Colchester, but won a purer fame as one of the very few Normans in high authority who knew how to win the love and confidence of the conquered English.[757]

Progress of the rebellion.

The Bessin and the Côtentin were now in open rebellion. We are told that men cursed the rebels, and wished well to the Duke in their hearts. But the revolted Barons had for the time the upper hand. They seized on the ducal revenues within their districts, and robbed and slew many who still clave to their allegiance. The dominion of the male line of Rolf, the very existence of Normandy as an united state, seemed in jeopardy. William did not venture to meet his enemies with the forces of the districts which |He seeks help of the King of the French.| still remained faithful. He was driven to seek for foreign aid, and he sought it in a quarter where one would think that nothing short of despair could have led him to think of seeking for it. He craved help of one who was indeed bound to grant it by every official and by every personal tie, but who had hitherto acted towards William only as a faithless enemy, ready to grasp at any advantage, however mean and treacherous. The Duke of the Normans, driven to such humiliation by the intrigues of an ungrateful kinsman, crossed the French border, and made his suit to his |Henry comes to his help in person.| Lord King Henry at Poissy.[758] He met with favour in the eyes of his suzerain; a French army, with the King at its head, was soon ready to march to the support of Duke William against his rebels. It is hard to see why Henry, whose whole earlier and later conduct is of so opposite a kind, stood forth for this once faithfully to discharge the duties of an honourable overlord towards an injured |His probable motives.| vassal. One would have thought that a revolt which, above all others, tended to the dismemberment of Normandy would have been hailed by Henry as exactly falling in with the interests of the suzerain power. Instead of the one strong and united state which had hitherto cut him off from the whole coast from Britanny to Ponthieu, there was now a chance of the establishment of two or three small principalities, each insignificant in itself, and all probably hostile to one another. Such states would run a fair risk of being recovered one by one by their overlord. Henry had himself in past years encroached on the Norman territory, and he had not scrupled to give encouragement to Norman traitors against their own sovereign. Yet the common interest of princes may have led him to see that it was bad policy to abet open rebellion, and he may have doubted whether the aggrandizement of the mutinous Barons of the Bessin and the Côtentin would be any real gain to France. Such neighbours might prove far more turbulent as vassals, and might not be much more easy to subdue as enemies, than the comparatively firm and orderly government of the Dukes of Rouen. At all events French aid was freely granted to the princely suppliant.[759] The King set forth at the head of his army to join the troops which William had gathered from the loyal districts, and to share with them in a decisive encounter with the rebel forces.

Battle of Val-ès-dunes, 1047;

The French and the loyal Normans joined their forces some miles to the east of Caen, in the neighbourhood of the memorable field of Val-ès-dunes. The spot is not one specially attractive in itself; it is not one of those spots which seem marked out by the hand of nature as specially designed to become the scene of great historical events. But we shall see that, for the purposes of the particular battle which was fought there, no ground could have been better suited. Nor, at first sight, does the fight of Val-ès-dunes, an engagement of cavalry between two Norman factions, seem to have any claim to a place among the |its importance in the life of William.| great battles of history. But Val-ès-dunes was the first pitched battle of the Conqueror; it was the field on which he first won a right to that lofty title, and the lessons which he learned there stood him in good stead on a far more awful day. And, more than this, it was there that William conquered his own land and his own people, and by that earlier conquest both schooled and strengthened himself for his mightier conquest beyond the sea. Normandy had first to be firmly grasped, and her fierce Barons to be brought under the yoke, before the hand of William could be stretched forth to fix its grasp on England, and to press the yoke upon the necks of her people. In a word, the strife with Randolf and Neal and their revolted provinces was the needful forerunner of the strife with Harold and his Kingdom. The tourney of Norman horsemen upon the open slope of Val-ès-dunes was William’s school of fence for the sterner clashing of axe and spear upon the palisaded heights of Senlac.

Val-ès-dunes a battle between Romanized and Teutonic Normandy.

And there is another aspect in which the two battles have a common feature. Val-ès-dunes, no less than Senlac, was a struggle between the Roman and the Teuton. The fact was not indeed forced in the same way upon men’s minds by the outward contrast of language, of tactics, of every badge of national difference. Still it is none the less true that, at Val-ès-dunes, the old Scandinavian blood of Normandy found its match, and more than its match, in the power of France and of the French portions of the Norman Duchy. Danish Coutances and Saxon Bayeux were brought face to face with Romanized |District which supported William.| Rouen and Evreux and with royal Paris itself. From all the lands east of the Dive men flocked to the Ducal standard. The episcopal cities of Lisieux and Evreux, along with primatial Rouen, sent forth their loyal burghers, and the men of the surrounding districts pressed no less eagerly to the muster. They came, according to the old division, which the suppression of the peasant revolt had not wholly broken up, arranged in companies which still retained the name of communes, suggesting the freedom which they had perhaps not wholly lost.[760] From beyond the Seine came the troops of Caux, and from the south of the Duchy came the men of Auge, and of Duke Robert’s County of Hiesmes. And who can doubt that foremost among them all were the burghers of William’s own Falaise, zealous on behalf of a Prince who was also their own immediate countryman? But the whole west of Normandy, the land where the old Norman speech and spirit had longest lingered, was arrayed on the side of the rebels. Except the contingent of his own birthplace and its neighbourhood, no part of the Duke’s force seems to have come from the lands west of the Dive; all else came from the old domain of Rolf, the oldest, but, then as now, not the most Norman Normandy.[761]

Description of the field of battle.

The field of battle lies just within the hostile country.[762] South-east of Caen, in continuation of the high ground of Allemagne[763] immediately south of the town, stretches a long, broad, and slightly elevated plain, sloping gently towards the east.[764] It hardly deserves to be called a hill, and the indentations with which its sides are broken hardly deserve to be called valleys.[765] Several villages and churches, Secqueville, Bellengreville, Billy, Chicheboville, form the boundaries of the field, but the plain itself is open and without any remarkable feature. A ridge somewhat higher than the rest of the ground, known as Mount Saint Lawrence, is the only conspicuous point of the plain itself, and this marks the western boundary of the actual battle-ground. The little stream of the Muance, a tributary of the Orne, bounds the plain to the south-east.[766] To the north lies the high ground of Argences, over which William advanced with the troops of the loyal districts. The French auxiliaries, approaching from the south by way of Mezidon, first reached the little village of Valmeray, where a ruined tower of later date marks the site of the church of Saint Brice in which King Henry heard mass |Junction of the Ducal and French forces.| before the battle.[767] Meanwhile the Duke’s forces crossed the Muance at the ford of Berengier,[768] and at once joined the French. King and Duke now ranged their troops in the order in which it was most natural to meet an enemy advancing from the west. The Normans, who had come from the north, formed the right wing, while the French, coming from the south, naturally formed the left.[769] There was pitched the royal standard, on which we are told that the presumption of the upstart house of Paris had dared to emblazon the eagle of Julius and Charles.[770] King Henry and Duke William, each baton in hand,[771] were now marshalling their troops, and the battle seemed about to begin, when, if we may trust our only detailed narrative of that day’s fight, one side was cheered and the other dispirited by an unlooked for incident.

Ralph of Tesson was lord of the forest of Cingueleiz, |Ralph of Tesson joins the Duke.| the forest some way to the south of Caen, between the rivers Orne and Lise, and his chief seat was at Harcourt Thury. He was a lord of great power, and his contingent is said to have mustered no less than a hundred and twenty knights with their banners and tokens.[772] He had no ground of offence against the Duke; yet he had joined in the conspiracy, and had sworn on the saints at Bayeux to smite William wherever he found him.[773] But his heart smote him when he found himself standing face to face against his lord in open battle. His knights too pressed around him, and reminded him of his homage and plighted faith, and how he who fought against his natural lord had no right to fief or honour.[774] On the other hand the Viscounts Neal and Randolf pressed him to stand firmly by them, and promised great rewards as the price of his adherence. For a while he stood doubtful, keeping his troop apart from either army. We are told that the King and the Duke marked them as they stood, and that William told Henry that he knew them for the men of Ralph of Tesson, that their leader had no grudge against him, and that he believed that they would all soon be on his side. Presently the arguments of his own knights prevailed with Ralph; he bade them halt, and he himself spurred across the field, shouting as his war-cry the name of his lordship of Thury.[775] He rode up to the Duke, he struck him with his glove, and so performed his oath to smite William wherever he found him.[776] The Duke welcomed the returning penitent, and Ralph rode back to his men. His detachment stood aside for a space till the two hosts were engaged in the thick of the battle. He then watched his opportunity, and made a vigorous charge on the side of the Duke.

Character of the battle; a mere combat of cavalry.

Such an auspicious reinforcement might well stir up the spirits of the young Duke and his followers. Every man was eager for battle. A fierce combat of cavalry began. We have heard of the infantry of the communes as appearing at the ducal muster, but we hear nothing of them in the battle. We hear nothing of the Norman archers, who were to win so terrible a renown upon a later field. All is one vast tourney, mounted knights charging one another with shield, sword, and lance. The first great battle of William, like the first great battle of Alexander,[777] was truly a battle of chivalry in every sense of the word, a hand to hand personal fight between mounted nobles on either side. On pressed the Duke, sword in hand, seeking out the perjured Viscounts,[778] and shouting the war-cry of Normandy, “Dex aie.”[779] On the same side rose the shout of “Montjoye-Saint-Denys,” the national war-cry of the French Kingdom. From the rebel host arose the names of various local saints, patrons of the castles and churches of the revolted leaders, Saint Sever, Saint Amand, and others of less renown.[780] On the rebel left rode the men of the Bessin, on the right those of the Côtentin. The men of the peninsula thus came face to face with the |Personal exertions of King Henry.| royal troops; the King of the French, as in the old days of Lewis and Harold,[781] had to meet in close fight with the fiercest and most unconquerable warriors of the Norman name. And well and bravely did King Henry do his duty on that one day of his life. Even in the Norman picture, it is around the King, rather than around the Duke, that the main storm of battle is made to centre. The knights now met on each side, lance to lance, and, when their lances were shivered, sword to sword. There was no difference of tactics, no contrast between one weapon and another; the fight of Val-ès-dunes was the sheer physical encounter of horse and man, the mere trial of personal strength and personal skill in knightly exercises. The King, as in such a fight any man of common courage must do, exposed himself freely to danger; but, as far as his personal adventures went, the royal share in the battle was somewhat unlucky. Once, if not twice, the King of the French, the overlord of Normandy, was hurled from his horse by the thrust of a Norman lance. A knight of the Côtentin first overthrew him by a sudden charge. The exploit was long remembered in the rhymes of his warlike province,[782] but the hero of it purchased his renown with his life. The King was unhurt, but the report of such an accident might easily spread confusion among his army. Like more renowned warriors before and after, like Eadmund at Sherstone,[783] like William at Senlac, it was needful that he should show himself to his followers, and wipe out the misfortune by fresh exploits. Henry was therefore soon again in the thickest of the fight; but, less fortunate than either Eadmund or William, the like mishap befell him a second time.[784] The King presently encountered one of the three great chiefs of the rebellion; another thrust, dealt by the lance of Hamon, again laid Henry on the ground; but a well timed stroke from a French knight more than avenged this second overthrow; the Lord of Thorigny was carried off dead on his shield like an old Spartan.[785]

The King honoured his valiant adversary, and, by his express order, Hamon was buried with all fitting splendour before the Church of Our Lady at Esquai on the Orne.[786]

The King is thus made decidedly the most prominent figure in the picture, and, somewhat inglorious as were Henry’s personal experiences that day, it is to him and his Frenchmen that the Norman poet does not scruple to attribute the victory.[787] The fight appears throughout as |Exploits and good fortune of William.| a fight between Normans and Frenchmen.[788] But the Duke of the Normans himself was not idle. If his royal ally was personally unlucky, it was on this day that William began that career of personal success, of good fortune in the mere tug of battle, which, till the clouded evening of his life, was as conspicuous as the higher triumphs of his military genius and his political craft. Men loved to tell how the young Duke slew with his own hand the beloved vassal of Randolf, Hardrez, the choicest warrior of Bayeux;[789] how the veteran champion, in the pride of his might, rode defiant in the front rank; how the Duke rode straight at him, not justing with his lance as in a mimic tourney, but smiting hand to hand with the sword. The poet rises to an almost Homeric flight, when he tells us how William smote the rebel below the chin, how he drove the sharp steel between the throat and the chest, how the body fell beneath his stroke and the soul passed away.[790]

Randolf loses heart and flees.

The fortune of the day was now distinctly turning against the rebels; but, had all of them displayed equal courage, the issue of the struggle might still have been unfavourable to King and Duke. Neal of Saint Saviour still fought among the foremost of the men of his peninsula, but the heart of his accomplice from Bayeux began to fail him. Randolf had seen his most cherished vassal fall by the hand of his young sovereign; his heart quailed lest the like fate should be his own; he feared lest Neal had fled; he feared that he was betrayed to the enemy; he repented that he had ever put on his helmet; it was sad to be taken captive, it was a still worse doom to be slain. The battle ceased to give him any pleasure;[791] he gave way before every charge; he wandered in front and in rear; at last he lost heart altogether; he dropped his lance and his shield, he stretched forth his neck,[792] and rode |Neal continues the fight to the last.| for his life. The cowards, we are told, followed him; but Neal still continued the fight, giving and taking blows till his strength failed him. The French pressed upon him; their numbers increased, the numbers of the Normans lessened; some of his followers had fled, others lay dead and dying around him. At last the mighty lord of the Côtentin saw that all hope was lost. On the rising ground of Saint Lawrence the last blow seems to have been struck. The spot was afterwards marked by a commemorative chapel, which was destroyed by the Huguenots in the religious wars. On its site it doubtless was that the valiant Neal at last turned and left the field, seemingly the last man of the whole rebel army.

Rout of the Rebels.

The rout now became general. The example of Randolf drew after it far more followers than the example of Neal. The rebels rode for their lives in small parties, the troops of the King and the Duke following hard upon them, and smiting them from the rear. From the ridge of Saint Lawrence they rode westward, to reach the friendly land of Bayeux;[793] they rode by the Abbey of Fontenay and the quarries of Allemagne; but the flood of the Orne checked their course; men and horses were swept away by the stream, or were slaughtered by the pursuers in the attempt to cross; the mills of Borbillon, we are told, were stopped by the dead bodies.[794]

Completeness of the victory.

The victory was a decisive one, and it was one which proved no less decisive in its lasting results than it had been |The French auxiliaries return.| as a mere success on the field of battle. King Henry, who had done his work well and faithfully, now went back to his own land, and left William to complete the reduction of his revolted subjects. One of them, the original author of the plot, still offered him a long and vigorous resistance. Of the conduct of Guy of Burgundy in the field we hear nothing, except an incidental mention of a wound which he received there.[795] Indeed, since the appearance of his three great Norman adherents, the |Escape of Guy.| Burgundian prince has nearly dropped out of sight.[796] He now reappears, to receive from the Norman writers a vast out-pouring of scorn on account of his flight from the field,[797] though it does not appear to have been in any way more ignominious than the flight of the mass of his Norman allies. At any rate he was not borne away in the indiscriminate rush of his comrades towards the Orne. He escaped, with a large body of companions,[798] in quite the opposite direction, to his own castle of Brionne on the |He defends himself at Brionne.| Risle. There he took up a position of defence, and was speedily followed and besieged by Duke William. The castle of Brionne of those days was not the hill fortress, the shell of a donjon of that or of the next age, which now looks down upon the town and valley beneath. The stronghold of Count Guy had natural defences, but they were defences of another kind. The town itself seems to have been strongly fortified; but the point of defence which was most relied on at Brionne was the fortified hall of stone which stood on an island in the river.[799] William had, before now, by one vigorous assault, brought his own native Falaise to surrender;[800] but, though we are expressly told that the stream was everywhere fordable, the island fortress seems to have been deemed proof against any attacks |Siege of Brionne 1047–1050?| of this kind. A regular siege alone could reduce it, and William was driven to practise all the devices of the military art of his day against his rebellious cousin. He built a castle, this time very possibly of wood, on each side of the river, and thus cut off the besieged from their supplies of provisions.[801] Constant assaults on the beleaguered castle are spoken of, but their aim seems to have been mainly to frighten the besieged rather than to produce any more practical effect;[802] hunger was the sure and slow means on which William relied to bring Guy to reason. The siege was clearly a long one, though it is hardly possible to believe, on the incidental statement of a single authority, that it was spread over a space of three years.[803] |Surrender of Brionne.| At last the endurance of Guy and his companions gave way, and he sent messengers praying for mercy. The Duke required the surrender of the castle; but touched, we are told, by the tie of kindred blood, he bade Guy |William’s clemency to the vanquished.| remain in his court.[804] Nor was the Duke’s hand, on the whole, heavy on the other offenders. No man was put to death, though William’s panegyrist holds that death |Rarity of political executions.| was the fitting punishment for their offences.[805] But in those days, both in Normandy and elsewhere, the legal execution of a state criminal was an event which seldom happened. Men’s lives were recklessly wasted in the endless warfare of the times, and there were men, as we have seen, who did not shrink from private murder, even in its basest form.[806] But the formal hanging or beheading of a noble prisoner, so common in later times, was, in the eleventh century, distinctly an unusual sight.[807] And, strange as it may sound, there was a sense in which |William’s ordinary treatment of enemies.| William the Conqueror was not a man of blood. He would sacrifice any number of lives to his boundless ambition; he did not scruple to condemn his enemies to cruel personal mutilations; he would keep men for years, as a mere measure of security, in the horrible prison-houses of those days; but the extinction of human life in cold blood was something from which he shrank. His biographer exultingly points out this feature in his character, and his recorded acts do not belie his praise.[808] Once only did he swerve from this rule, when he sent the noble Waltheof to the scaffold. And, as that act stands out conspicuously from its contrast to his ordinary conduct, so it is the act from which it is impossible not to date the decline of his high fortune. And, at the time of his first great victory, William was of an age which is commonly disposed to be generous, and none of the worse features of his character had hitherto come to the surface. With one exception only, no very hard punishments were inflicted on the conquered |Destruction of the castles.| rebels. The mass of the rebellious Barons paid fines, gave hostages, and had to submit to the destruction of the castles which they had raised without the ducal licence.[809] To this, and to other measures of the same kind, it is owing that such small traces of the Norman castles of the eleventh century now remain. Neal of Saint Saviour had to retire for a time to Britanny, but his exile must have been short, as we find him, seemingly in the very next year, again in office and in the ducal favour. He survived his restoration forty-four years;[810] he lived to repay at Senlac the old wrong done by Englishmen to his father’s province; but, almost alone among the great Norman chiefs, he received |Guy returns to Burgundy.| no share in the spoils of England. As for Guy, he presently left the country of his own free will. His sojourn at William’s court must have been little else than an honourable imprisonment, and it would seem that he now found little respect or sympathy in Normandy.[811] He returned to his native land, the Burgundian Palatinate, and there, we are told, spent the rest of his days in plotting against his brother, the reigning Count William.[812] |Fate of Grimbald.| One criminal only was reserved for a harsher fate. Grimbald was taken to Rouen, and there kept in prison—such as prisons were in those days—and in fetters. He was looked on as the foulest traitor of all; he it was whom the Duke charged with the personal attempt on his life at Valognes.[813] Grimbald confessed the crime, and named as his accomplice a knight named Salle the son of Hugh. The accused denied the charge, and challenged Grimbald to the judicial combat. Before the appointed day of battle came, Grimbald was found dead in his prison. He was buried with his fetters on his legs, his lands were confiscated, and part of them was given to the church of Bayeux. Plessis became a domain of the see, and other portions of the estates of Grimbald became the corpses of various prebends in the cathedral church.[814]

Establishment of William’s power in Normandy.

The power of William was now on the whole firmly established. He had still to repel many attacks from hostile neighbours, and we shall have yet to record one more considerable revolt within the Norman territory. But the Norman Barons now knew that they had a master.[815] For some years to come, internal discord, strictly so called, underwent a sort of lull to a degree most remarkable in such an age. Under the firm and equal government of her great Duke, Normandy began to recover from her years of anarchy, and to rise to a higher degree of prosperity than she had ever yet attained to.[816] |Effect of the struggle.| The Duchy became, more completely than it had ever been before, a member of the European and of the Capetian |The supremacy of the French element confirmed.| commonwealth. The Capetian King indeed soon learned again to look with a grudging eye on his northern neighbour; but the general result of the struggle must have been to make Normandy still more French than before. The French and the Scandinavian elements had met face to face, and the French element had had the upper hand. Frenchmen and French Normans had overthrown the stout Saxons of the Bessin and the fierce Danes of the Côtentin. The distinction between the two parts of Normandy is still one which even the passing traveller may remark; but, from the day of Val-ès-dunes, it ceased to manifest itself in the great outward expressions of language and political feeling. The struggle which began during the minority of Richard the Fearless was now finally decided at the close of the minority of William the Bastard. The Count of Rouen had overcome Saxons and Danes within his own dominions, and he was about to weld them into his most trustworthy weapons wherewith to overcome Saxons and Danes beyond the sea. The omen of the fight against Neal and Hamon might well have recurred to the mind of William, when Neal himself and the son of Hamon marched forth at his side from the camp at Hastings, and went on to complete the conquest of England at Exeter and York.

§ 3. From the Battle of Val-ès-dunes to William’s Visit to England. 1047–1051.

William was thus at peace at home; his next war was indeed one of his own seeking, but it was one from which he could not have shrunk without breaking through every |The Counts of Anjou; their connexion with Norman and English history.| tie alike of gratitude and of feudal duty. This is the first time that I have had directly to mention a power, which had been, for more than a hundred years, steadily growing up to the south of Normandy, and which was to exercise a most important influence on the future history of Normandy and, through Normandy, on that of England. I mean the dynasty of the Counts of Anjou. That |1154.| house, the house which mounted the throne of England in the person of a great-grandson of William, produced a succession of princes to whose personal qualities it must mainly have been owing that their dominions fill the place which they do fill in French and in European history. |Characteristics of Angevin history.| Anjou holds a peculiar position among the great fiefs of France. It was a singular destiny which gave so marked a character, and so conspicuous a history, to a country which seems in no way marked out for separate existence by any geographical or national distinction. Normandy, Britanny, Flanders, Aquitaine, Ducal Burgundy, all had a being of their own; they were fiefs of the Crown of France, but they were in no sense French provinces. But Anjou was at most an outpost on the Loire, a border district of France and Aquitaine; beyond this position it had nothing specially to distinguish it from any other part of the great |Saxon occupation. 464.| Parisian Duchy.[817] A momentary Saxon occupation in the fifth century[818] cannot be supposed to have left behind it any such abiding traces as were certainly left by the settlement of the same people at Bayeux, perhaps even by their less famous settlement at Seez.[819] It was wholly to the energy and the marked character of its individual rulers that Anjou owes its distinct and prominent place among the principalities of Gaul. The restless spirit of the race showed itself sometimes for good and sometimes for evil, but there was no Count of Anjou who could be called a fool, a coward, or a fainéant. The history or legends of the family which was to rise to such greatness laid claim |Ingelgar, first Count. 870?| to no very remote or illustrious pedigree.[820] The first Count of Anjou, who held a part only of the later County,[821] was invested with that dignity either by Charles the Bald or by his son Lewis the Stammerer.[822] He bore the name of Ingelgar, and he seems to be the first member of the family who can be unhesitatingly set down as historical. His grandfather, |Peasant origin of the family.| Torquatius or Tortulfus, was, according to the legend, a peasant, and seems to have sprung from that Breton race of which his descendants became the most persevering enemies. It must have been a later version of the tale which invented for him a Roman name and a Roman descent.[823] |Torquatius and Tertullus.| The son of Torquatius, Tertullus, rose, we are told, to importance at the court of Charles, and founded the |Historical value of these tales.| greatness of his house.[824] Whatever may be the amount of strictly historical truth preserved in these stories, they are, in one point of view, of no small historical value. Like the similar story of the origin of Godwine, they point to a belief, which can hardly have been ill-founded, that, in Gaul in the ninth century and in England in the eleventh, ignoble birth did not disqualify a man from rising to the highest dignities, or from founding a dynasty of Princes or even of Kings.[825] But, when we reach Ingelgar, we seem to stand on more distinctly historical ground. He held Amboise in Touraine as an allodial possession,[826] and he was, as we have seen, invested with the Countship of Anjou on the hither side of the Mayenne. But it is plain that no detailed account of his actions, or of those of his immediate successors, was preserved.[827] |Fulk the Red. 888.| His son Fulk the Red received from Charles the Simple the remaining portion of the County of Anjou, that beyond the Mayenne, and he vigorously defended his enlarged dominions against the attacks of Northmen and Bretons.[828] |Fulk the Good. 938.| This Romulus was appropriately succeeded by a Numa, Fulk the Good, renowned for his piety, his almsdeeds, his just and peaceful government, and for being the traditional author of the proverb that an unlettered King is but |Geoffrey Grisegonelle. 958.| a crowned ass.[829] His son, Geoffrey Grisegonelle,[830] renewed the warlike fame of his house; he fought with his neighbours of Britanny and Aquitaine; and he is said to |978.| have borne an important share in the wars between King Lothar and the Emperor Otto the Second.[831] After |Fulk Nerra. 987.| him came his son Fulk,[832] surnamed Nerra or the Black, renowned as a warrior and still more renowned as a pilgrim, and who is the first prince of his house whose name has found its way into the general history of France. He overthrew his brother-in-law Conan of Britanny in one or |992.| more pitched battles, which French, as well as Breton and |His war with Odo of Chartres.| Angevin, writers thought worthy of record. He was also engaged in a war with his neighbour Odo the Second, Count of Blois and Chartres, the grandson of the famous Theobald, a war which passed on as an inheritance to the next generation, and which proved the origin of the first entanglements between Normandy and Anjou.[833] It sounds like an incursion from another hemisphere, when we read how Aldebert, Count of Perigueux, Perigueux with its cupolas and its Roman tower, far away in the heart of Aquitaine, appeared as an ally of the Angevin |Fulk gains and loses Tours. 990.| Count. He took Tours and gave it to Fulk, but the citizens were ill disposed to their new master, and Odo |Battle of Pontlevois. 1016.| recovered it after a short time. Later in his reign, Fulk defeated Odo in a great battle at Pontlevois in the territory |1031.| of Touraine, and afterwards gained or recovered Saumur. We have already met with him in the character of a mediator between contending candidates for the Crown of France,[834] and he appears also in the less honourable light of an assassin, who removed a courtier of King Robert who stood in the way of the plans of his own termagant niece Queen Constance.[835] We hear also heavy complaints of him as a violator of ecclesiastical rule, by setting up the usurped authority of the See of Rome against the rights |His pilgrimages. 1028, 1035.| of the independent metropolitans of Gaul.[836] But he is perhaps best known for his two pilgrimages to the Holy Sepulchre, for the ready ingenuity which he displayed on his first journey, and for the extreme of penitential humiliation by which he edified all men on the second.[837] Less happy in his private than in his public career, he was troubled in his last years by a rebellion of his son;[838] he was charged, truly or falsely, with the murder of one wife, and with driving another from him by ill-treatment.[839] A reign of unusual length made him, during a few years, a contemporary of the Great William, and at last he left his dominions to a son under whom Normans and Angevins met for the first time in open warfare.

Geoffrey Martel. 1040.

This son, Geoffrey by name, rejoiced in the surname of Martel, which he bestowed upon himself to express the heavy blows which, like the victor of Tours, he dealt around upon all his enemies.[840] He began his career in his father’s lifetime. A dispute for the possession of the County of Saintonge led to a war between him and William the Sixth or the Fat, Duke of Aquitaine and |He imprisons William of Aquitaine. April 22, 1033.| Count of Poitou.[841] Geoffrey was successful; he took the Aquitanian prince prisoner, and kept him in close bondage, till his wife Eustacia ransomed him at a heavy price. According to one version, the ransom consisted only of gold and silver, the spoil or contribution of the monasteries of his Duchy. Others however assert that it was nothing short of the cession of Bourdeaux and other cities, and an engagement to pay tribute for the rest of his dominions. Three days after this hard bought deliverance, William died. Immediately afterwards, or, according to some accounts, in the course of the year before, Geoffrey married Agnes, the step-mother of his victim, the widow of William’s father, William the Fifth or the Great. The marriage was, on some ground or other, branded as incestuous, and it was this imprisonment of William and |Geoffrey rebels against his father. 1033.| this marriage with Agnes which, we are told, gave rise in some way to Geoffrey’s rebellion against his father and to the discord between Fulk and his second wife Hildegardis the mother of Geoffrey.

The imprisonment of William of Aquitaine evidently made a deep impression upon men’s minds at the time; but it was the standing war with the house of Chartres which brought Anjou into direct collision with Normandy, and thereby, at a somewhat later time, into connexion |Last days of Odo of Chartres.| with England. The last energies of Odo were mainly directed to objects remote from Anjou, and even from Chartres and Blois. He was one of the party which opposed the succession of King Henry, and in so doing he must have crossed the policy of Henry’s great champion |His war with King Henry. 1034.| Duke Robert. In a war which followed with the King Odo was unsuccessful,[842] but his mind was now set upon greater things. Already Count of Champagne, he aimed |His attempt on the Kingdom of Burgundy. 1033.| at restoring the great frontier state between the Eastern and the Western Franks, at reigning as King of Burgundy, of Lotharingia, perhaps of Italy. After meeting |His defeat and death at Bar. 1037.| for a while with some measure of success, he was at last defeated and slain by Duke Gozelo, the father of Godfrey of whom we have already heard,[843] in a battle near Bar in the Upper Lotharingia.[844] His great schemes died with him. His sons were only Counts and not Kings, and their father’s dominions were divided between them. The |His sons Stephen and Theobald.| sons of both of them obtained settlements in England, and a grandson of one figures largely in English history. Stephen reigned in Champagne; his son Odo married a sister of the Conqueror, and was one of the objects of his brother-in-law’s bounty in England.[845] Theobald inherited Blois and Chartres. His son Stephen married |Their wars with King Henry and with Geoffrey.| William’s daughter Adela, and thereby became father of a King of the English. But at present we have to deal with Count Theobald as a vassal of France at variance with his overlord, as a neighbour of Anjou inheriting the hereditary enmity of his forefathers. Touraine, part of which was already possessed by Geoffrey,[846] and, above all, the metropolitan city of Tours, were ever the great objects of Angevin ambition. It was a stroke of policy on the part of Henry, when he formally deprived the rebel Theobald of |Geoffrey receives Tours as a grant from Henry, and imprisons Theobald. 1044.| that famous city, and bestowed it by a royal grant on the Count of Anjou.[847] Geoffrey was not slow to press a claim at once fresh and most plausible. He advanced on the city to assert his rights by force. Saint Martin, we are specially told, favoured the enterprise.[848] The brothers resisted in vain. Stephen was put to flight; Theobald was taken prisoner, and was compelled, like William of Aquitaine, to obtain his freedom by the surrender of the city.[849]

Both French and Angevin writers agree in describing Geoffrey as taking possession of Tours with the full consent of King Henry. Yet, in the first glimpse of Angevin affairs given us by our Norman authorities, the relations between the King of the French and the Count of Anjou are set forth in an exactly opposite light. Geoffrey is |William helps King Henry against Geoffrey. 1048.| engaged in a rebellious war against Henry, and the Duke of the Normans appears simply to discharge his feudal duty to his lord, and to return the obligation incurred by the King’s prompt and effectual help at Val-ès-dunes.[850] These two accounts are in no way inconsistent; in the space of four years the relations between the King and so dangerous a vassal as Geoffrey may very well have changed. Henry may well have found that it was not sound policy to foster the growth of one whose blows might easily be extended from Counts to Kings. The campaign which followed is dwelt on at great length by our Norman authorities and is cut significantly short by the Angevins. |Personal exploits of William.| In its course, we are told, William gained the highest reputation. The troops of Normandy surpassed in number the united contingents of the King and of all his other vassals.[851] The Duke’s courage and conduct were preeminent, and they won him the first place in the King’s counsels.[852] But on one point Henry had to remonstrate with his valiant ally. He was forced, says the panegyrist, to warn both William himself and the chief Norman leaders against the needless exposure of so precious a life.[853] William at no time of his life ever shrank from danger, and we may be sure that, at this time of his life especially, he thoroughly enjoyed the practice of war in all its forms. But William’s impulses were already under the control of his reason. He knew, no doubt, as well as any man, that to plunge himself into needless dangers, and to run the risk of hairbreadth scapes, was no part of the real duty of a prince or a general. But he also knew that it was mainly by exploits of this kind that he must dazzle the minds of his own generation, and so obtain that influence over men which was needful for the great schemes of his life.[854] In any other point of view, one would say that it was unworthy of William’s policy to win the reputation of a knight-errant at the expense of making for himself a lasting and dangerous enemy in the Count of Anjou.

Position of Maine under Geoffrey.

The undisputed dominions of the two princes nowhere touched each other. But between them lay a country closely connected both with Normandy and with Anjou, and over which both William and Geoffrey asserted rights. This was the County of Maine, a district which was always said to have formed part of the later acquisitions of Rolf,[855] but of which the Norman Dukes had never taken practical possession. The history of the Cenomannian city and province will be more fittingly sketched at another stage of William’s |Count Herbert. 1015.| career; it is enough to say here that Geoffrey was now practical sovereign of Maine, in the character of protector, |Hugh. 1036.| guardian, or conqueror of the young Count Hugh, the son of the famous Herbert, surnamed Wake-the-dog.[856] William and Geoffrey thus became immediate neighbours, and Geoffrey, with the craft of his house, knew how to strike a blow |The fortresses of Domfront and Alençon.| where William was weakest. Two chief fortresses guarded the frontier between Maine and Normandy. Each commanded its own valley, its own approach into the heart of the Norman territory; each watched over a stream flowing from Norman into Cenomannian ground. These were Domfront towards the western, and Alençon towards the eastern, portion of the frontier. Domfront commanded the region watered by the Mayenne and its tributaries, while Alençon was the key of the valley of the Sarthe, the keeper of the path which led straight to the minster of Seez and to the donjon of Falaise. Of these two strongholds, Alençon stood on Norman, Domfront on Cenomannian soil.[857] But Norman writers maintained that Domfront, no less than Alençon, was of right a Norman possession, both fortresses alike having been reared by the licence of Richard the |Disloyalty of Alençon.| Good.[858] But even Alençon, whatever may have been its origin, was at this time far from being a sound member of the Norman body-politic. As a lordship of William Talvas, it shared in the ambiguous character, half Norman, half French, which attached to all the border possessions of the house of Belesme. And, as events presently showed, its inhabitants shared most fully in the spirit in which the Lord of Alençon had cursed the Bastard in his cradle.[859] We are told also that the citizens both of Alençon and of Domfront disliked the rule of William, on account of the strict justice which he administered and the checks which he put on their marauding practices.[860] This complaint sounds rather as if it came from turbulent barons than from burghers; yet it is quite possible that the burghers of a frontier town, especially on a frontier which was very doubtful and ill defined, may have indulged in those breaches of the peace which it was William’s greatest praise, both in Normandy and in England, to chastise without mercy. |Alençon garrisoned by Geoffrey.| At any rate, the people of Alençon were thoroughly disloyal to Normandy, and they willingly received the Angevin Count and his garrison.[861] William returned the blow of |William marches ta Domfront;| Geoffrey’s hammer in kind. Leaving Alençon for a while to itself, he crossed the frontier, Angevin or Cenomannian as we may choose to call it, and laid siege to Domfront. |his exploits on the way.| On his march he found that treason was not wholly extinguished, even among his own troops. He had gone on a foraging or plundering party with fifty horse;[862] a traitor, a Norman noble, sent word of his whereabout to the defenders of the town, who sent forth, we are told, three hundred horse and seven hundred foot to attack the Duke unexpectedly. It sounds like romance when we read that William at once charged and overthrew the horseman nearest to him, that the rest were seized with a sudden panic and took to flight, that the Duke and his little band chased them to the gates of Domfront, and that William carried off one prisoner with his own hands.[863] Such stories are no doubt greatly exaggerated; the details may often be pure invention; but, as contemporary exaggerations and inventions, they show the kind of merit which Normans then looked for in their rulers, and they show the kind of exploit of which William himself was thought capable. |Traitors in the Norman camp.| And the perfectly casual mention of the traitor in the Norman camp is instructive in another way. We have here no doubt merely an example of what often happened, and the way in which treason is spoken of as an everyday matter sets vividly before us the difficulties with which William, even now after the victory of Val-ès-dunes, had still to contend at every step.[864]

Siege of Domfront.

William now laid siege to Domfront. The town was strong both by its fortifications and by its natural position. The spirit of the citizens was high, and they were further strengthened by the presence of a chosen body of Angevin troops sent by Count Geoffrey. An assault was hopeless where two steep and narrow paths were the only ways by which the fortress could be approached even on foot.[865] William surrounded it with four towers,[866] and the Norman army sat down before it. The Duke was foremost in every attack, in every ambush, in every night march to cut off the approach of those who sought to bring either messages or provisions to the besieged town.[867] Yet we are told that he found himself so safe in the enemy’s country that he often enjoyed the sports of hunting and hawking, for which the neighbouring woods afforded special opportunities.[868] |1048–1049.| The siege had continued for some time in this way, and it was now seemingly winter,[869] when news was brought that Count Geoffrey was advancing with a large |Geoffrey comes to relieve Domfront.| force to the relief of the town. A tale of knight-errantry follows, the main substance of which, coming as it does from a contemporary writer, we have no ground for disbelieving, even though some details may have been heightened to enhance the glory of William. The story is worthy of attention as showing that, amid all the apparent rudeness of the times, some germs of the later follies of chivalry had already begun to show themselves. As the Angevin army |Messages between William and Geoffrey. Early example of knight-errantry.| approached, William sent a message to Geoffrey by the hands of two of his chosen friends, two youths who had grown up along with him, and who were destined to share with him in all his greatest dangers and greatest successes. Both were men who lived to be famous in English history, Roger of Montgomery, the son-in-law of the terrible Talvas,[870] and William, the son of that Osbern who had lost his life through his faithfulness to his master.[871] These two trusty companions were sent to see Count Geoffrey, and to get from him an explanation of his purpose. Geoffrey told them that, at daybreak the next morning, he would come and beat up William’s quarters before Domfront. There should be no mistake about his person; he would be known by such a dress, such a shield,[872] such a coloured horse. The Norman messengers answered that he need not trouble himself to come so far as the Norman quarters; he whom he sought would come and visit him nearer home. Duke William would be ready for battle, with such a horse, such a dress, such manner of weapons.[873] The Normans appeared the next morning, eager for fight, |Geoffrey decamps.| and their Duke the most eager among them.[874] But no enemy was there to await them; before the Normans came in sight, the Count of Anjou and his host had decamped. Geoffrey doubtless, like some later generals, retired only for strategical reasons; but the Norman writers can see no nobler motive for his conduct than his being seized with a sudden panic.[875] Here, and throughout the war, the lions stand in need of a painter, or rather their painters suddenly refuse to do their duty. We have no Angevin account of the siege of Domfront to set against our evidently highly coloured Norman picture.

William marches suddenly to Alençon, and besieges the town.

The whole country now lay open for William to harry; but he knew better than to waste time and energy on mere useless ravages.[876] He determined rather to strike another sudden blow. Leaving a force before Domfront, he marched all night, through the enemy’s country, along the course of the Mayenne, passing by Mehendin, Pointel, and Saint-Samson.[877] He thus suddenly appeared before Alençon with the morning light.[878] A bridge over the Sarthe, strongly fortified with a ditch and a palisade, divided the Norman from the Cenomannian territory.[879] This bridge now served as a barrier against a Duke of the Normans attacking his own town from the Cenomannian |Insults offered to William at Alençon.| side. The defenders of the bridge, whether Angevins or disaffected Normans, received the Duke with the grossest personal insult. They spread out skins and leather jerkins, and beat them, shouting, “Hides, hides for the Tanner.”[880] The Duke of the Normans had acted a merciful and generous part towards the rebels of Val-ès-dunes and Brionne; but the grandson of Fulbert of Falaise could not endure the jeers thus thrown on his descent by the spindle side. Anything like a personal insult is commonly far more unpardonable in princely eyes than a real injury. The one act of cruelty which |1296.| stains the reign of our great Edward is the slaughter of the inhabitants of Berwick in revenge for a jesting and not very intelligible ballad sung against him from the walls.[881] So now William swore, according to his fashion, by the Splendour of God,[882] that the men who thus mocked him should be dealt with like a tree whose branches are cut off by the pollarding-knife.[883] He kept his word. A vigorous assault was made upon the bridge. Houses were unroofed, and the timbers were thrown into the fosse.[884] Fire was set to the mass; the wood was dry, the flame spread, the palisades and gates were burned down, and |He takes the town, and mutilates his prisoners.| William was master of the bridge, and with it of the town of Alençon. The castle still held out. The Conqueror, faithful to his fearful oath, now gave the first of that long list of instances of indifference to human suffering which have won for him a worse name than many parts of his character really deserve. Thirty-two of the offenders were brought before him; their hands and feet were cut off,[885] and the dismembered limbs were thrown over the walls of the castle, as a speaking menace to its defenders.[886] The threat did its work; the garrison surrendered, bargaining only for safety for life and limb.[887] Alençon, tower and town, was thus taken so speedily that William’s panegyrist says that he might renew the boast of Cæsar, “I came; I saw; I conquered.”[888] Leaving |Domfront surrenders.| a garrison in Alençon, the Duke hastened back to Domfront, the fame of his conquest and of his cruelty going before him. The man before whom Alençon had fallen, before whom the Hammer of Anjou had fled without striking a blow, had become an enemy too fearful for the men of Domfront to face.[889] They surrendered on terms somewhat more favourable than those which had been granted to the defenders of the castle of Alençon; they were allowed to retain their arms as well as their lives and limbs.[890] William entered Domfront, and displayed the banner of Normandy over the donjon.[891] The town henceforth became a standing menace on the side of Normandy against Maine, and it formed, together with Alençon, the main defence of the southern frontier of the Duchy. If William undertook the war to discharge his feudal duty towards King Henry, he certainly did not lose the opportunity for permanently strengthening his own dominions. In fact, in our Norman accounts, the King of the French has long ago slipped away from the scene, and the Count of Chartres has vanished along with him. William and Geoffrey remain the only figures |William fortifies Ambières.| in the foreground. The Duke, having secured his frontier, marched, seemingly without resistance, into the undoubted territory of Maine; he there fortified a castle at Ambières, and returned in triumph to Rouen.[892]

The men of Alençon had jeered at the grandson of the Tanner; but the sovereign who so sternly chastised their jests was determined to show that the baseness of his mother’s origin in no way hindered him from promoting his kinsmen on the mother’s side. If one grandson of Fulbert wore the ducal crown of Normandy, another already wore the mitre of Bayeux; and another great promotion, almost equivalent to adoption into the ducal |William the Warling;| house, was now to be bestowed upon a third. The county of Mortain—Moritolium in the Diocese of Avranches[893]—was now held by William, surnamed Warling, son of Malger, a son of Richard the Fearless and Gunnor.[894] |his connexion with the ducal family.| He was therefore a first cousin of William’s father, a descendant of the ducal stock as legitimate as any other branch of it. We have not heard his name in the accounts of any of the former disturbances; but it is clear that he might, like so many others, have felt himself aggrieved by the accession of the Bastard. Among |Robert the Bigod.| the knights in Count William’s service was one, so the story runs, who bore a name hitherto unknown to history, though not unknown to legend and fanciful etymology, but a name which was to become more glorious on English ground than the names of Fitz-Osbern and Montgomery. The sons of Robert the Bigod[895] were to rule where Harold now held his Earldom, and his remote descendant was to win a place in English history worthy of Harold himself, as the man who wrested the freedom of England from the greatest of England’s later Kings.[896] The patriarch of that great house was now a knight so poor that he craved leave of his lord to leave his service, and to seek his fortune among his countrymen who were carving out for themselves lordships and principalities in Apulia. The Count bade him stay where he was; within eighty days he, Robert the Bigod, would be able, there in Normandy, to lay his hands on whatever good things |He charges William with treason.| it pleased him. In such a speech treason plainly lurked; and Robert, whether out of duty to his sovereign or in the hope of winning favour with a more powerful master, determined that the matter should come to the ears of the Duke. The Bigod was a kinsman of Richard of Avranches, the son of Thurstan the rebel of Falaise,[897] and Richard was now high in favour at the court of William. By his means Robert obtained an introduction to the Duke,[898] and told him of the treasonable words of the Count of Mortain. William accordingly sent for his cousin, and charged him with plotting against the state. He had, the Duke told him, determined again to disturb the peace of the country, and again to bring about the reign of licence. But, while he, Duke William, lived, the peace which Normandy so much needed should, by God’s help, never be disturbed again.[899] Count |William the Warling goes to Apulia.| William must at once leave the country, and not return to it during the lifetime of his namesake the Duke. The proud Lord of Mortain was thus driven to do what his poor knight had thought of doing. He went to the wars in Apulia in humble guise enough, attended by a |Robert, Count of Mortain.| single esquire. The Duke at once bestowed the vacant County of Mortain on his half-brother Robert, the son of Herlwin and Herleva. Of him we shall hear again in the tale of the Conquest of England. Thus, says our informant, did William pluck down the proud kindred of his father and lift up the lowly kindred of his mother.[900]

Estimate of William’s conduct.

This affair of William of Mortain is one of which we may well wish for further explanation. We are hardly in a position to judge of the truth or falsehood of the charge brought by Robert the Bigod against his lord.[901] We have no statement from the other side; we have no defence from the Count of Mortain; all that we are told is that, when arraigned before the Duke, he neither confessed nor denied the charge.[902] We need not doubt that William was honestly anxious to preserve his Duchy from internal disturbances. But in this case his justice, if justice it was, fell so sharply and speedily as to have very much the look of interested oppression. It was impossible to avoid the suspicion that William the Warling was sacrificed to the Duke’s wish to make a provision for his half-brother. We are not surprised to find that the charge of having despoiled and banished his cousin on frivolous pretences was brought up against William by his enemies in later times, and was not forgotten by historians in the next generation.[903]

The energy of William had thus, for the time, |Prosperous condition of Normandy. 1049–1054.| thoroughly quelled all his foes, and his Duchy seems for some years to have enjoyed as large a share of peace and prosperity as any state could enjoy in those troubled times. The young Duke was at last firmly settled in the ducal seat, and he now began to think of strengthening himself by a marriage into the family of some neighbouring prince. And he seems to have already made up his mind in favour of the woman who retained |William seeks Matilda of Flanders in marriage.| his love during the remainder of their joint lives, Matilda,[904] the daughter of Baldwin, Count of Flanders. He must have been in treaty for her hand very soon after the Angevin war, as the marriage was forbidden by a decree |1049.| of the Council of Rheims.[905] But the marriage itself did |1053.| not take place till several years later, and the negotiation opened so many questions, and was connected with so many later events, that I reserve the whole subject of |William’s objects, Duchy, Wife, and Kingdom, all pursued in the like spirit.| William’s marriage for a later chapter. William had to struggle through as many difficulties to obtain undisputed possession of his wife as he had to obtain undisputed possession of either his Duchy or his Kingdom. And he struggled after all three with the same deliberate energy, ever waiting his time, taking advantage of every opportunity, never baffled by any momentary repulse. His struggle for Normandy was now, for the time, over; he had fairly conquered his own Duchy, and he had now only to defend it. His struggle for Matilda had already begun; a struggle almost as hard as the other, though one which was to be fought, not with bow and spear, but with the weapons of legal and canonical disputation. Whether he had already begun to lift up his eyes to the succession of his childless cousin, whether he had already formed the hope that the grandson of the despised Tanner might fill, not only the ducal chair of Normandy, but the Imperial throne of Britain, is a question to which we can give no certain answer. But there can be little doubt that, soon after this time, the idea was forcibly brought before his mind. And, with characteristic pertinacity, when he had once dreamed of the prize, he never slackened in its pursuit till he could at last call it his own.

Condition of England. 1051–1052.

Normandy was now at rest, enjoying the rest of hard-won peace and prosperity. England was also at rest, if we may call it rest to lie prostrate in a state of feverish stillness. She rested, as a nation rests whose hopes are crushed, whose leaders are torn from her, which sees for the moment no chance of any doom but hopeless submission |William’s visit to England. 1051.| to the stranger. It was at this crisis in the history of the two lands that the Duke of the Normans appeared as a guest at the court of England.[906] Visits of mere friendship and courtesy among sovereign princes were rare in those days. The rulers of the earth seldom met, save when a superior lord required the homage of a princely vassal, or when Princes came together, at the summons of the temporal or the spiritual chief of Christendom, to discuss the common affairs of nations and churches. Such visits as those which William and Eustace of Boulogne paid at this time to Eadward were, in England at least, altogether novelties. And they were novelties which were not likely |Estimate of William in English eyes.| to be acceptable to the national English mind. We may be sure that every patriotic Englishman looked with an evil eye on any French-speaking prince who made his way to the English court. Men would hardly be inclined to draw the distinction which justice required to be drawn between Eustace of Boulogne and William of Rouen. And yet, under any other circumstances, England, or any other land, might have been proud to welcome such a guest as the already illustrious Duke. Under unparalleled difficulties he had displayed unrivalled powers; he had shone alike in camp and in council; he had triumphed over every enemy; he had used victory with moderation; he was fast raising his Duchy to a high place among European states, and he was fast winning for himself the highest personal place among European Princes. Already, at the age of twenty-three, the Duke of the Normans might have disputed the palm of personal merit even with the great prince who then filled the throne of the world. He had, on a narrower field, displayed qualities which fairly put him on a level with Henry himself. But, in English eyes, William was simply the most powerful, and therefore the most dangerous, of the greedy Frenchmen who every day flocked in greater numbers to the court of the English King. William came with a great following; he tarried awhile in his cousin’s company; he went away loaded with gifts and honours.[907] |Eadward’s alleged promise of the Crown to William probably made at this time.| And we can hardly doubt that he also went away encouraged by some kind of promise, or at any rate by some kind of implied hope, of succeeding to the Kingdom which |General appearance of things favourable to William.| he now visited as a stranger. There was indeed everything to raise the hope in his breast. He landed in England; he journeyed to the court of England; his course lay through what were in truth the most purely English parts of England; but the sons of the soil lay crushed without a chief. On the throne sat a King of his own kin, English in nothing but in the long succession of glorious ancestors of whom he showed himself so unworthy. His heart was Norman; his speech was French; men of foreign birth were alone welcome at his court; men of foreign birth were predominant |Norman predominance in England.| in his councils. The highest places of the Church were already filled by Norman Prelates. The Norman Primate of all England, the choicest favourite of the King, the man at whose bidding he was ready to believe that black was white, would doubtless be the first to welcome his native sovereign to his province and diocese. The great city which was fast becoming the capital of England, the city beneath whose walls Eadward had fixed his chosen dwelling, had been made to own the spiritual rule of another Norman priest. A short journey, a hunting-party or a pilgrimage, would bring King and Duke within the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of a third Norman, the unworthy stranger who disgraced the episcopal throne of Dorchester. Among the temporal chiefs of the Kingdom there was already one French Earl, kinsman alike of William and of Eadward, who would not fail in showing honour to the most renowned of his speech and kindred. Norman Stallers, Treasurers, personal officers of every kind, swarmed around the person of the King. Norman Thegns were already scattered through the land, and were already filling the land with those threatening castles, of which the wise policy of William had destroyed so many within his own dominions. Robert the son of Wymarc, Richard the son of Scrob, and the whole herd of strangers who were fattening on English soil, would flock to pay their duty to a more exalted countryman who came on the same errand as themselves. They would tell him with delight.and pride how the insolence of the natives had been crushed, how the wrongs of Count Eustace had been avenged, and how the rebel leaders had been driven to flee from justice. They would speak of England as a land which Norman influences had already conquered, and which needed only one exertion of the strong will and the strong hand to enable the Norman to take formal possession. The land was fast becoming their own. Some wild tribes, in parts of the island to which William’s journey was not likely to extend, might still remain under aged chieftains of English or Danish birth. But even these rude men had been found, whether through fear or policy, ready to fall in with the plans of the Norman faction, and to range themselves against the champions of the national cause. And the richest and most civilized parts of the land, the very parts which had been so lately held by the sturdiest champions of Norman innovations, had now become one great field for Normans of every class to settle in. From Kent to Hereford they might enrich themselves with the lands and largesses which a gracious King was never weary of showering upon them. That King was childless; he had no heir apparent or presumptive near to him;[908] he had had a brother, but that brother had been done to death by English traitors, with the fallen captain of traitors at their |Lack of direct heirs in the royal house.| head. Not a single near kinsman of the royal house could be found in England. The only surviving male descendant of Æthelred was the banished son of Eadmund, who, far away in his Hungarian refuge, perhaps hardly occurred to the minds of Norman courtiers. William was Eadward’s kinsman; it was convenient to forget that, though he was Eadward’s kinsman, yet not a single drop of royal or English blood flowed in his veins. It was convenient to forget that, even among men of foreign birth, there were those who were sprung, by female descent at least, from the kingly stock of England. Ralph of Hereford was the undoubted grandson of Æthelred, but the claims of the timid Earl of the Magesætas could hardly be pressed against those of the renowned Duke of the Normans. It |Constitutional aspect of the promise.| was convenient to forget that, by English Law, mere descent gave no right, and that, if it had given any right, William had no claim by descent to plead. It was easy to dwell simply on the nearness by blood, on the nearness by mutual good offices, which existed between the English King and the Norman Duke. There was everything to suggest the thought of the succession to William’s own mind; there was everything to suggest it to the foreign counsellors who stood around the throne of Eadward. Probably William, Eadward, and Eadward’s counsellors were alike ignorant or careless of the English Constitution. They did not, or they would not, remember that the Kingdom was not a private estate, to be passed from man to man either according to the caprice of a testator or according to the laws of strict descent. They did not remember that no man could hold the English Crown in any way but as the free gift of the English people. The English people would seem to them to be a conquered race, whose formal consent, if it needed to be asked at all, could be as easily extorted as it had been by Swend and Cnut. If they dared to refuse, they might surely be overcome by the Norman no less easily than they had been overcome by the Dane. It would probably seem to them that the chances were all in favour of William’s being able to succeed quietly as the heir or legatee of Eadward. If those chances failed, it would still be open to him to make his entry by arms as the avenger of the blood of Ælfred and his companions.

No direct evidence on the point.

The moment was thus in every way favourable for suggesting to William on the one hand, to Eadward on the other, the idea of an arrangement by which William should succeed to the English Crown on Eadward’s death. We have no direct evidence that any such arrangement took place at this time, but all the probabilities of the story lead irresistibly to the belief that such was the case. The purely English writers are silent, but then they are silent as to any bequest or arrangement in William’s favour at any time. They tell us nothing as to the nature of his claim to the Crown; they record his invasion, but they record nothing as to its motives.[909] The Norman writers, on the other hand, so full of Eadward’s promise to William, nowhere connect it with William’s visit to England, which one only among them speaks of at all.[910] But Norman writers, Norman records, the general consent of the age, confirmed rather than confuted |Negative evidence of the English writers.| by the significant silence of the English writers, all lead us to believe that, at some time or other, some kind of promise of the succession was made by Eadward to William. The case of Eadward’s promise is like the case of Harold’s oath. No English writer mentions either; but the silence of the English writers confirms rather than disproves the fact of both. All those Norman calumnies which they could deny, the English writers do most emphatically deny.[911] The fact then that they never formally deny the reports, which they must have heard, that Harold swore an oath to William, that Eadward made a promise in favour of William, may be accepted as the strongest proof that some kind of oath was sworn, that some kind |Some promise of Eadward, and some oath of Harold, historical, but the Norman details untrustworhy.| of promise was made. Had either Eadward’s promise or Harold’s oath been a pure Norman invention, William could never have paraded both in the way that he did in the eyes of Europe; he could never have turned them to the behoof of his cause in the way that he so successfully did. I admit then some promise of Eadward, some oath of Harold. But that is all. The details, Eadward and some oath of Harold, historical, but the Norman details untrustworthy. as they are given by the various Norman writers, are so different, so utterly contradictory, that we can say nothing, on their showing, as to the time, place, or circumstances of either event. We are left with the bare fact, and for anything beyond it we must look to the probabilities of the case. The oath of Harold I shall discuss at the proper time; at present we are concerned with the bequest of the English Crown said to have been made by Eadward in favour of William.

Every one who has grasped the true nature of the English Constitution, as it stood in the eleventh century, |No power of bequest in the King, only of recommendation.| will fully understand that, strictly speaking, any bequest of the kind was altogether beyond the power of an English King. The Law of England gave the King no power to dispose of a Crown which he held solely by the free choice of the Witan of the land. All that Eadward could constitutionally do was to pledge himself to make in William’s favour that recommendation to the Witan which the Witan were bound to consider, though not |Eadward’s change of purpose; his final recommendation of Harold.| necessarily to consent to.[912] That, when the time came, Eadward did make such a recommendation, and did not make it in favour of William, we know for certain. The last will of Eadward, so far as such an expression can be allowed, was undoubtedly in favour of Harold. We shall see, as we go on, that there is the strongest reason to believe that Eadward at one time designed his namesake the Ætheling as his successor. It is even possible that his thoughts were at one time directed towards his nephew Ralph of Hereford. In a weak prince like Eadward changes of purpose of this kind are in no way wonderful. And in truth the changes in the condition of the country were such that a wiser King than Eadward might well have changed his purpose more than once between the visit of William and his own death. Now there is not the slightest sign of any intention on behalf of William during the later years of Eadward; first the Ætheling, and then the great Earl, are the persons marked out in turn for the succession. And yet, as we have seen, it is impossible not to believe that some promise was, at some time or other, made in William’s favour. The details of the Norman stories are |Impossibility of the Norman accounts.| indeed utterly incredible.[913] The version which is least grotesquely absurd represents Eadward as promising the Crown to his dear cousin and companion William, when they were both boys or youths living together in Normandy. It is enough to upset this tale, taken literally, if we remember that Eadward, who is here represented as the familiar and equal companion of the boy William, was, when he left Normandy, nearly forty years old, some five and twenty years older than his cousin. He is moreover made to dispose of a Crown which was not yet his, and which he afterwards assumed with a good deal of unwillingness. Yet this story is distinctly less absurd than the other versions. It is even possible that William or his advisers may have begun to look on the succession to the English Crown as a matter within the scope of their policy, from the time when the English embassy came to bring the King-elect Eadward from Normandy to his own Kingdom.[914] It is a far wilder story which describes Archbishop Robert as going over to announce to William the decree of the English Witan in his favour, a decree confirmed by the oaths of the Earls Leofric, Siward, and—Godwine! But even this story is less marvellous than that which represents Harold himself, at a time when he was the first man in England, and when his own designs on the Crown must have been perfectly well known, as sent by Eadward into Normandy to announce to the Duke the bequest which the King had made in his favour. All these stories are simply incredible; they are simply instances of that same daring power of invention by virtue of which Dudo of Saint Quintin describes William Longsword and Richard the Fearless as reigning over half the world,[915] by virtue of which Guy of Amiens describes Robert the Devil |William’s visit the only opportunity for the promise.| as the actual conqueror of England.[916] Yet some promise must be accepted, and some time and some place must be found for it. What time and place are so obvious William’s visit the only opportunity for the promise. as the time and place when Eadward and William, once and once only during their joint reigns, met together face to face? Every earlier and every later time seems utterly impossible; this time alone seems possible and probable. At the moment everything would tend to suggest the idea both to the King and to the Duke. The predominance of the Norman faction, the actual presence of the Norman Duke, the renown of his exploits sounding through all Europe, the lack of any acknowledged English heir, the absence of any acknowledged English leader, all suggested the scheme, all seemed |Later circumstances unfavourable to William.| to make it possible. Everything at that moment tended in favour of William’s succession; every later event, every later change of circumstances, tended in favour of the succession of any one rather than of William. At that moment the Norman party were in the full swing of power. Before another year had passed, the cause of England had once more triumphed; Eadward had Englishmen around him; he gradually learned to attach himself to men of his own race, and to give to the sons of Godwine that confidence and affection which he never gave to Godwine himself. He either forgot his promise to William, or else he allowed himself to be convinced that such a promise was unlawful to make and impossible to fulfil. But William never forgot it. We may be sure that, from that time, the Crown of England was the great object of all his hopes, all his thoughts, all his policy. Even in his marriage it may not have been left quite out of sight. The marriage of William and Matilda was undoubtedly a marriage of the truest affection. But it was no less undoubtedly a marriage which was prompted by many considerations of policy. And, among other inducements, William may well have remembered that his intended bride sprang by direct, if |Matilda’s descent from Ælfred.| only by female, descent from the stock of the great Ælfred.[917] His children therefore would have the blood of ancient English royalty in their veins. Such a descent would of course give neither William, nor Matilda, nor their children, any real claim; but it was a pretension one degree less absurd than a pretension grounded on the fact that Eadward’s mother was William’s great-aunt. |Nature of William’s claims.| And William knew as well as any man that, in politics, a chain is not always of the strength only of its weakest link. He knew that a skilful combination of fallacious arguments often has more practical effect on men’s mind than a single conclusive argument. He contrived, in the end, by skilfully weaving together a mass of assertions not one of which really proved his point, to persuade a large part of Europe that he was the true heir of Eadward, kept out of his inheritance by a perjured usurper. That all these schemes and pretensions date from the time of William’s visit to Eadward, that the Norman Duke left the English court invested, in his own eyes and in those of his followers, with the lawful heirship of the English Crown, is a fact which seems to admit of as little doubt as any fact which cannot be proved by direct evidence.[918]

William’s visit an important stage in the history.

In short, it marks one of the most important stages of our history, when “William Earl came from beyond sea with mickle company of Frenchmen, and the King him received, and as many of his comrades as to him seemed good, and let him go again.”[919] From that day onwards, we feel that we have been brought nearer, by one of the longest stages of our journey, to the fight of Senlac and the coronation of Westminster.

Lack of details.

William then visited England at the moment while Godwine was sheltered at the court of Bruges, while Harold was planning vengeance at the court of Dublin, while Eadgyth was musing on the vanity of earthly things in her cell at Wherwell. He therefore met none of the family who were most steadily hostile to all his projects. But we ask in vain, Did he meet the stout warrior Siward? Did he meet the mediator Leofric? Did he meet the Primate who was, fifteen years later, to place the Crown on his own brow, or that more stout-hearted Primate who either refused or was deemed unworthy to bear any part in that great ceremony? And we cannot but ask, Did he meet the now aged Lady, through whom came all his connexion with England or English royalty, the wife and mother of so many kings, the victim of so many spoliations? With what grace could Eadward bring his kinsman into the presence of the parent through whom alone William could call him kinsman, but between whom and himself there had been so little love? At all events, if Eadward was now for a season set free from the presence of his wife, he was soon set free for ever from the |Death of Emma. March 6, 1052.| presence of his mother. Early in the next year died Ælfgifu-Emma, the Old Lady, the mother of Eadward King and of Harthacnut, and her body lay in the Old Minster by Cnut King.[920]

The course of our story has thus brought us once more to the shores of our own island. In our next Chapter we shall have to begin the picture of the bright, if brief, regeneration of England. We shall have to listen to the spirit-stirring tale, how the champions of England came back from banishment, how the heart of England rose to welcome her friends and to take vengeance on her enemies, how for fourteen years England was England once again under the rule of the noblest of her own sons.

CHAPTER IX.

THE REIGN OF EADWARD FROM THE RETURN OF GODWINE TO THE DEATH OF EADWARD THE ÆTHELING.[921]
1052–1057.

Character of the Period.

The two streams of English and Norman history were joined together for a moment in the year when the sovereigns of England and Normandy met face to face for the only time in the course of their joint reigns. Those streams will now again diverge. England shook off the Norman influence, and became once more, to all outward appearance, the England of Æthelstan and Eadgar. For |Little direct connexion between English and Norman affairs.| several years the history of each country seems to have no direct influence upon the history of the other. But this mutual independence is more apparent than real. England once more became free from Norman influence as regarded her general policy; but the effects of Eadward’s Norman tendencies were by no means wholly wiped away. Normans still remained in the land, and the circumstances of the deliverance of England were not without their effect as secondary causes of the expedition of William. Through the whole period we may be sure that the wise statesmen of both countries were diligently watching each other’s actions. Harold and William, though not as yet open enemies or avowed rivals, must have found out during these years that each was called on by his own policy to do all that he could to thwart the policy of the other. But though there was this sort of undercurrent closely connecting the interests of the two countries, yet, in all the outward events of history, it was a period of remarkable separation between them. The events recorded by English historians within this period belong almost exclusively to the affairs of our own island. It is a period in which the relations between the vassal Kingdoms of Britain and the Imperial power again assume special importance. But it is still more emphatically marked by the death of the greatest of living Englishmen, and the transmission of his power, and more than his power, to a |Growth of the power of Harold.| worthy successor. We left Godwine and Harold banished men. We have now to record their triumphant return to a rejoicing nation. We have then to record the death of Godwine, the accession of Harold to his father’s formal rank, and the steps by which he gradually rose to be the virtual ruler of the Kingdom, perhaps the designated successor to the Crown.

§ 1. The Return and Death of Godwine. 1052–1053.

General regret at the absence of Godwine.

If the minds of Englishmen had been at all divided in their estimate of Godwine during his long tenure of power, it only needed his exile to bring every patriotic heart to one opinion with regard to him. Godwine doubtless had his enemies; no man ever stood for thirty years and more at the head of affairs without making many enemies; and there were points in his character which may have given reasonable offence to many. Even if the whole of his enormous wealth was fairly and legally acquired, its mere accumulation in the hands of one man[922] must have excited envy in many breasts. His eagerness to advance his family may well have offended others, and the crimes and the restoration of Swegen, even under the guaranty of Bishop Ealdred, cannot fail to have given general scandal. It is possible then that there were Englishmen, not devoid of love and loyalty to England, who were short-sighted enough to rejoice over the fall of the great Earl. But, when Godwine was gone, men soon learned that, whatever had been his faults, they were far outweighed by his merits. Men now knew that the Earl of the West-Saxons had been the one man who stood between them and the dominion of strangers. During that gloomy winter England felt as a conquered land, as a land too conquered by foes who had not overcome her in open battle, but who had, by craft and surprise, deprived her of her champions and guardians. The common voice of England soon began to call for the return of Godwine. The banished Earl was looked to by all men as the Father of his Country; England now knew that in his fall a fatal blow had been dealt to her own welfare and freedom.[923] Men began openly to declare that it was better to share the banishment of Godwine than to live in the land from which Godwine was banished.[924] |Godwine invited to return.| Messages were sent to the court of Flanders, praying the Earl to return. If he chose to make his way back into the land by force, he would find many Englishmen ready to take up arms in his cause. Others crossed the sea in person, and pledged themselves to fight for him, and, if need were, to die in his behalf.[925] These invitations, we are told, were no secret intrigue of a few men. The common voice of England, openly expressed and all but unanimous, demanded the return of the great confessor of English freedom.[926]

The King’s preparations against Godwine.

These open manifestations on behalf of the exiles could not escape the knowledge of the King and his counsellors. It was thought necessary to put the south-eastern coast into a state of defence against any possible attack from the side of Flanders. The King and his Witan[927]—one would like to have fuller details of a Gemót held under such influences—decreed that ships should be sent forth to |The fleet at Sandwich.| watch at the old watching-place of Sandwich.[928] Forty ships were accordingly made ready, and they took their place at the appointed station under the command of the King’s nephew Earl Ralph, of Odda, the newly appointed Earl of the Western shires.[929]

Precautions of this kind against the return of one for whose return the mass of the nation was longing must have been unpopular in the highest degree. And, if anything could still further heighten the general discontent |Ravages of Gruffydd of North Wales. 1052.| with the existing state of things, it would be the events which were, just at this time, going on along the Welsh border. The Norman lords whom Eadward had settled in Herefordshire proved but poor defenders of their adopted country. The last continental improvements in the art of fortification proved vain to secure the land in the absence of chiefs of her own people. Gruffydd of North Wales marked his opportunity; he broke through his short-lived alliance with England, and the year of the absence of Godwine and his sons was marked by an extensive and successful invasion of the land of the Magesætas.[930] Gruffydd doubtless took also into his reckoning the absence of the local chief at Sandwich. He crossed the border, he harried far and wide, and he seems not to have met with any resistance till |His victory near Leominster.| he had reached the neighbourhood of Leominster.[931] There he was at last met by the levies of the country, together with the Norman garrison of Richard’s Castle.[932] Perhaps, as in a later conflict with the same enemy in the same neighbourhood, English and foreign troops failed to act well together; at all events the Welsh King had the victory, and, after slaying many men of both nations, he went away with a large booty.[933] Men remarked that this heavy blow took place exactly thirteen years after Gruffydd’s |1039.| first great victory at Rhyd-y-Groes.[934] Though the coincidence is thus marked, we are not told, what day of what month was thus auspicious to the Welsh prince; but the dates of the events which follow show that it must have been early in the summer.

Godwine petitions for his return.

Godwine must by this time have seen that the path for his return was now open, and it was seemingly this last misfortune which determined him to delay no longer.[935] It was not till all peaceful means had been tried and failed, that the banished Earl made up his mind to attempt a restoration by force. He sent many messages to the King, praying for a reconciliation. He offered now to Eadward, as he had before offered both to Harthacnut and to Eadward himself, to come into the royal presence and make a compurgation in legal form in answer to all the charges which had been brought against him.[936] But all such petitions were in vain. It marks the increasing intercourse between England and the continent, that Godwine, when his own messages were not listened to, sought, as a last resource, to obtain his object through the intercession of foreign princes.[937] Embassies on his behalf were sent by his host |Embassies from foreign princes on his behalf.| Count Baldwin and by the King of the French. Baldwin, who had so lately been at war with England, might seem an ill-chosen intercessor; but his choice for that purpose may have been influenced by his close connexion with the Court of Normandy. William was just now earnestly pressing his suit for Matilda. The ally of the great Duke might be expected to have some influence, if not with Eadward, at least with Eadward’s Norman favourites. King Henry, it will be remembered, claimed some sort of kindred with Eadward, though it is not easy to trace the two princes to a common ancestor.[938] But King and Marquess alike pleaded in vain. Eadward was surrounded by his foreign priests and courtiers, and no intercessions on behalf of the champion of England were allowed to have any weight with the royal mind, even if they were ever allowed to reach the royal ear.[939]

Godwine determines on a return by force.

The Earl was now satisfied that nothing more was to be hoped from any attempts at a peaceful reconciliation. He was also satisfied that, if he attempted to return by force, the great majority of Englishmen would be less likely to resist him than to join his banners. He therefore, towards the middle of the summer,[940] finally determined to attempt his restoration by force of arms, and |Estimate of his conduct.| he began to make preparations for that purpose. His conduct in so doing hardly needs any formal justification. It is simply the old question of resistance or non-resistance. If any man ever was justified in resistance to established authority, or in irregular enterprises of any kind, undoubtedly Godwine was justified in his design of making his way back into England in arms. So to do was indeed simply to follow the usual course of every banished man of those times who could gather together the needful force. The enterprises of Osgod Clapa[941] at an earlier time, and of Ælfgar at a later time, are not spoken of with any special condemnation by the historians of the time. And the enterprise of Godwine was of a very different kind from the enterprises of Ælfgar and of Osgod Clapa. Ælfgar and Osgod may have been banished unjustly, and they may, according to the morality of those times, have been guilty of no very great crime by seeking restoration with weapons in their hands. Still the question of their banishment or restoration was almost wholly a personal question. The existence or the welfare of England in no way depended on their presence or absence. But the rebellion or invasion of Godwine was a rebellion or an invasion in form only. His personal restoration meant nothing short of the deliverance of England from misgovernment and foreign influence. He had been driven out by a faction; |Comparison of Godwine with Henry of Bolingbroke (1399) and William of Orange (1688).| he was invited to return by the nation. The enterprise of Godwine in short should be classed, not with the ordinary forcible return of an exile, but with enterprises like those of Henry of Bolingbroke in the fourteenth century and of William of Orange in the seventeenth. In all three cases the deliverer undoubtedly sought the deliverance of the country; in all three he also undoubtedly sought his own restoration or advancement. But Godwine had one great advantage over both his successors. They had to deal with wicked Kings; he had only to deal with a weak King. They had to deal with evil counsellors, who, however evil, were still Englishmen. Godwine had simply to deliver King and people from the influence and thraldom of foreigners. He was thus able, while they were not able, to deliver England without resorting to the death, deposition, or exile of the reigning King, and, as far as he himself was personally concerned, without shedding a drop of English blood.

The narrative of this great deliverance forms one of the most glorious and spirit-stirring tales to be found in any age of our history. It is a tale which may be read with unmixed delight, save for one event, which, whether we count it for a crime or for a misfortune, throws a shadow on the renown, not of Godwine himself, but of his nobler son. Harold and Leofwine, we have seen, had made up their minds from the beginning to resort to force, whenever the opportunity should come. They had spent the winter in Ireland in making preparations for an expedition.[942] They were by this time ready for action, and, now that their father had found all attempts at a peaceful reconciliation to be vain, the time for action seemed clearly to have come. |Harold and Leofwine sail from Dublin.| It was doubtless in concert with Godwine that Harold and Leofwine[943] now set sail from Dublin with nine ships. Their crews probably consisted mainly of adventurers from the Danish havens of Ireland, ready for any enterprise which promised excitement and plunder. But it is quite possible that Englishmen, whether vehement partisans or simply desperate men, may have also taken service under the returning exiles. The part of England which they chose for their enterprise would have been well chosen, if |They enter the Bristol Channel.| they had been attacking a hostile country. They made for the debateable land forming the southern shore of the Bristol Channel, where no doubt large traces of the ancient British blood and language still remained.[944] The country was left, through the absence of its Earl Odda with the fleet, without any single responsible chief. |The people of Somersetshire and Devonshire ill disposed towards them.| But it soon appeared that, from whatever cause, the wishes of the people of this part of the kingdom were not favourable to the enterprise of Harold and Leofwine. Possibly the prevalence of Celtic blood in the district may have made its inhabitants less zealous in the cause |Possible grounds for their hostility.| of the English deliverer than the inhabitants of the purely English shires. Possibly the evil deeds of Swegen, whose government had included Somersetshire, may have made men who had lived under his rule less attached to the whole House of Godwine than those who had lived under the rule of Harold or of Godwine himself. And we must remember that, up to this time, Harold had done nothing to win for himself any special renown or affection beyond the bounds of his own East-Anglian Earldom. As yet he shone simply with a glory reflected from that of his father. And his enterprise bore in some points an ill look. He had not shared the place of exile of his father, nor had he taken any part in his father’s attempts to bring about a peaceful restoration. He had gone, determined from the first on an armed return, to a land which might almost be looked on as an enemy’s country. He now came back at the head of a force whose character could not fail to strike Englishmen with suspicion and dread. We are therefore not surprised to hear that the men of Somerset and Devon met him in arms. |Harold’s landing at Porlock;| He landed on the borders of those two shires, in a wild and hilly region, which to this day remains thinly peopled, cut off from the chief centres even of local life, the last |description of the country.| place within the borders of South Britain where the wild stag still finds a shelter. The high ground of Exmoor, and the whole neighbouring hilly region, reaches its highest point in the Beacon of Dunkery, a height whose Celtic name has an appropriate sound among the remains of primæval times with which it is crowned. It is the highest point in its own shire, and it is overtopped by no point in Southern England, except by some of the Tors of Dartmoor in the still further west. A descent, remarkably gradual for so great a height, leads down to the small haven of Porlock, placed on a bay of no great depth, but well defined by two bold headlands guarding it to the east and west. The coast has been subject to many changes. A submarine forest,[945] reaching along the whole shore, shows that the sea must have made advances in earlier times. And there is as little doubt that it has again retreated, and that what is now an alluvial flat was, eight hundred years back, a shallow and muddy inlet, accessible to the light craft of those days. Harold therefore landed at a spot nearer than the present small harbour to the small |Object of the enterprise.| town, or rather village, of Porlock.[946] A landing in this remote region could contribute but little to the advancement of the general scheme of Godwine; the object of Harold must have been merely to obtain provisions for his crews. He came doubtless, as we shall find his father did also, ready for peaceable supplies if a friendly country afforded them, but ready also to provide for his followers |Harold’s victory at Porlock; he plunders the country, and sails to join his father.| by force, if force was needed for his purpose.[947] But the whole neighbourhood was hostile; a large force was gathered together from both the border shires, and Harold, whether by his fault or by his misfortune, had to begin his enterprise of restoration and deliverance by fighting a battle with the countrymen whom he came to deliver. The exiles had the victory, but it is clear that they had to contend with a stout resistance on the part of a considerable body of men. More than thirty good Thegns and much other folk were slain.[948] So large a number of Thegns collected at such a point shows that the force which they headed must have been gathered together, not merely from the immediate neighbourhood of Porlock, but from a considerable portion of the two shires.[949] We may conceive that the system of beacons, which has been traced out over a long range of the hill-tops in the West of England, had done good service over the whole country long before the fleet of Harold had actually entered the haven of Porlock. But the crews of Harold’s ships were doubtless picked men, and their success, over even a much larger force of irregular levies, would have been in no way wonderful. Harold now plundered without opposition, and carried off what he would in the way of goods, cattle, and men.[950] He then sailed to the south-west, he doubled the Land’s End,[951] and sailed along the English Channel to meet his father.

Estimate of Harold’s conduct.

This event is the chief stain which mars the renown of Harold, and which dims the otherwise glorious picture of the return of Godwine and his house. Harold’s own age perhaps easily forgave the deed. No contemporary writer speaks of it with any marked condemnation; one contemporary writer even seems distinctly to look upon it as a worthy exploit.[952] It was in truth nothing more than the ordinary course of a banished man. Harold acted hardly worse than Osgod Clapa; he did not act by any means so badly as Ælfgar. But a man who towers above his own generation must pay, in more than one way, the penalty of his greatness. We instinctively judge Harold by a stricter standard than that by which we judge Ælfgar and Osgod Clapa. On such a character as his it is distinctly a stain to have resorted for one moment to needless violence, or to have shed one drop of English blood without good cause. The ravage and slaughter at Porlock distinctly throws a shade over the return of Godwine and over the fair fame of his son. It is a stain rather to be regretted than harshly to be condemned; but it is a stain nevertheless. It is a stain which was fully wiped out by later labours and triumphs in the cause of England. Still we may well believe that the blood of those thirty good Thegns and of those other folk was paid for in after years by prayers and watchings and fastings before the Holy Rood of Waltham; we may well believe that it still lay heavy on the hero’s soul as he marched forth to victory at Stamfordbridge and to more glorious overthrow at Senlac.

Godwin sets sail. June 22, 1052.

Harold and Leofwine were thus on their way to meet their father. Meanwhile the revolution was going on rapidly on the other side of England.[953] Godwine had gathered together a fleet in the Yser,[954] the river of Flanders which flows by Dixmuyden and Nieuport, and falls into the sea some way south-west of Bruges. He thence set |His first appearance off the English coast.| sail, one day before Midsummer eve, and sailed straight to Dungeness, south of Romney.[955] At Sandwich the Earls Ralph and Odda were waiting for him, and a land force had also been called out for the defence of the coast.[956] Some friendly messenger warned the Earl of his danger, and he sailed westward to Pevensey. In Sussex he was in his own country, among his immediate possessions and his immediate followers, and he seems to have designed a landing on the very spot where a landing so fatal to his house was made fourteen years later. The King’s ships followed after him, but a violent storm hindered either party from carrying out its designs. Neither side knew the whereabouts of the other;[957] the King’s fleet |He returns to Bruges.| put back to Sandwich, while Godwine retired to his old quarters in Flanders.[958] Great discontent seems to have followed this mishap on the King’s side. The blame was clearly laid on the Earls and on the force which they commanded. Eadward may not have learned the lesson of Cnut, and he perhaps thought that the elements were bound to submit to his will. The fleet was ordered to return to London, where the King would put at its head other Earls, and would supply them with other rowers.[959] To London accordingly the fleet returned, but it was found easier to get rid of the old force than to provide a new one; everything lagged behind; probably nobody was zealous in the cause; even if any were zealous, their zeal would, as ever happened in that age, give way beneath the irksomeness of being kept under arms without any hope of immediate action. At last the whole naval force, which was to guard the coast and keep out the returning traitor, gradually dispersed, and each man went to his own home.[960]

Godwine sails the second time to Wight.

The coast was now clear for Godwine’s return, and his friends in England were doubtless not slow to apprize him that his path was now open. He might now, it would seem, have sailed, without fear of any hindrance, from the mouth of the Yser to London Bridge. But, with characteristic wariness, he preferred not to make his great venture till he had strengthened his force by the addition of the ships of Harold and Leofwine, and till he had tried and made himself sure of the friendly feeling of a large part of England. In the first district however where he landed, he found the mass of the people either unfriendly to him or kept in check by fear of the ruling powers. From Flanders he sailed straight for the Isle of Wight, as a convenient central spot in which to await the coming of his sons from Ireland. He seems to have cruised along the coast between Wight and Portland, and to have harried the country without scruple wherever supplies were refused to him.[961] But of armed resistance, such as Harold had met with at Porlock, we hear nothing, and there is nothing which implies that a single life was lost on either |Meeting of Godwine and Harold: they sail eastward.| side. At last the nine ships of Harold, rich with the plunder of Devon and Somerset, joined the fleet of his father at Portland. We need hardly stop to dwell on the mutual joy of father, sons, and brothers, meeting again after so many toils and dangers, and with so fair a hope of restoration for themselves and of deliverance for their country.[962] It is more important to note that, from this time, we are expressly told that all systematic ravaging ceased; provisions however were freely taken wherever need demanded. But as the united fleet steered its course eastward towards Sandwich, the true feeling of the nation showed itself more and more plainly. As the deliverer sailed along the South-Saxon coast, the |Zeal in their cause shown by the men of Sussex, Kent, and Essex.| sea-faring men of every haven hastened to join his banners. From Kent, from Hastings,[963] even from comparatively distant Essex,[964] from those purely Saxon lands, whence the Briton had vanished, and where the Dane had never settled, came up the voice of England to welcome the men who had come to set her free. At every step men pressed to the shore, eager to swell the force of the patriots, with one voice pledging themselves to the national cause, and raising the spirit-stirring cry, “We will live and die with Earl Godwine.”[965] At Pevensey, at Hythe, at Folkestone, at Dover, at Sandwich, provisions were freely supplied, hostages were freely given,[966] every ship in their havens was freely placed at the bidding of their lawful Earl. The great body of the fleet |They enter the Thames and sail towards London.| sailed round the Forelands, entered the mouth of the Thames, and advanced right upon London. A detachment, |Unexplained ravages in Sheppey.| we are told, lagged behind, and did great damage in the Isle of Sheppey, burning the town of King’s Middleton. They then sailed after the Earls towards London.[967] The language of our story seems to imply that neither Godwine nor Harold had any hand in this seemingly quite wanton outrage. Needlessly to harm the house or estate of any Englishman at such a moment was quite contrary to Godwine’s policy, quite contrary to the course which both he and Harold had followed since they met at Portland. The deed was probably done by some unruly portion of the fleet, by some Englishman who seized the opportunity to gratify some local jealousy, by some Dane who, consciously or unconsciously, looked with a pirate’s eye on the corner of Britain where his race had first found a winter’s shelter.[968]

Godwine reaches Southwark. September 14, 1052.

The fleet was now in the Thames. Strengthened by the whole naval force of south-eastern England, the Earl had now a following which was formidable indeed. The river was covered with ships; their decks were thick with warriors harnessed for the battle.[969] In such guise the Earl advanced to Southwark, and paused there, in sight doubtless of his own house, of the house whence he and his sons had fled for their lives a year before.[970] He had to wait for the tide, and he employed the interval in sending messages to the citizens of London.[971] The townsfolk of the great city were not a whit behind their brethren of Kent and Sussex in zeal for the national cause. |London declares for Godwine.| The spirit which had beaten back Swend and Cnut, the spirit which was in after times to make London ever the stronghold of English freedom, the spirit which made its citizens foremost in the patriot armies alike of the thirteenth and of the seventeenth centuries, was now as warm in the hearts of those gallant burghers as in any earlier or later age. With a voice all but unanimous, the citizens declared in favour of the great Earl; a few votes only, the votes, it may be, of strangers or of courtiers, were given against the emphatic resolution that what the Earl would the city would.[972]

The King hastens to London with an army.

But meanwhile where was King Eadward? At a later crisis of hardly inferior moment we shall find him taking his pleasure among the forests of Wiltshire, and needing no little persuasion to make him leave his sport and give a moment’s thought to the affairs of his Kingdom. He must have been engaged at this time in some such absorbing pursuit, as he appears to have heard nothing of Godwine’s triumphant progress along the southern coast till the Earl had actually reached Sandwich. The news awakened him to a fit of unusual energy. The interests at stake were indeed not small; the return of Godwine might cut him off from every face that reminded him of his beloved Normandy; he might be forced again to surround himself with Englishmen, and to recall his wife from her cloister to his palace. In such a cause King Eadward did not delay. He came with speed to London, accompanied by the Earls Ralph and Odda, and surrounded by a train of Norman knights and priests, and sent out orders for the immediate gathering in arms of such of his subjects as still remained loyal to him.[973] But men had no heart in the cause; the summons was slowly and imperfectly obeyed. The King contrived however, before the fleet of Godwine actually reached the city, to get together fifty ships,[974] those no doubt whose crews had forsaken them a few weeks earlier. And he contrived, out of his own housecarls, strengthened, it would seem, by the levies of some of the northern shires, to gather a force strong enough to line the northern shore of the Thames with armed men.[975]

Godwine before London.

The day on which Godwine and his fleet reached Southwark was an auspicious one. It was the Feast of the |Monday, September 14, 1052.| Exaltation of the Holy Cross.[976] It was the day kept in memory of the triumphant return and the devout humility of that renowned Emperor who restored the glory of the Roman arms, who rivalled the great Macedonian in a second overthrow of the Persian power, and who brought with him, as the choicest trophy of his victories, that holiest |628.| of Christian relics which his sword had won back from heathen bondage. Harold, like Heraclius, was returning to his own, perhaps already the sworn votary of that revered relic whose name he chose as his war-cry, and in whose honour he was perhaps already planning that great foundation which was of itself enough to make his name immortal. The day of the Holy Cross must indeed have been a day of the brightest omen to the future founder of Waltham. And a memorable and a happy day it was. Events were thickly crowded into its short hours, events which, even after so many ages, may well make every English heart swell with pride. It is something indeed to feel ourselves of the blood and speech of the actors of that day and of its morrow. The tide for which the fleet had waited came soon after the Earls had received the promise of support from the burghers of London. The anchors were weighed; the fleet sailed on with all confidence. The bridge was passed without hindrance, and the Earls found themselves, as they had found themselves a year before, face to face with the armies of their sovereign. But men’s minds had indeed changed since the Witan of England had passed a decree of outlawry against Godwine and his house. Besides his fleet, Godwine now found himself at the head of a |Zeal of Godwine’s followers.| land force which might seem to have sprung out of the earth at his bidding. The King’s troops lined the north bank of the Thames, but its southern bank was lined, at least as thickly, with men who had come together, like their brethren of the southern coasts, ready to live and die with the great Earl. The whole force of the neighbourhood, instead of obeying the King’s summons, had come unsummoned to the support of Godwine, and stood ready in battle array awaiting his orders.[977] And different indeed was the spirit of the two hosts. The Earl’s men were eager for action; it needed all his eloquence, all his authority, to keep them back from jeoparding or disgracing his cause by too hasty an attack on their sovereign |Lukewarmness of the King’s troops.| or on their countrymen.[978] But the Englishmen who had obeyed Eadward’s call were thoroughly disheartened and lukewarm in his cause. The King’s own housecarls shrank from the horrors of a civil war, a war in which Englishmen would be called on to slaughter one another, for no object but to rivet the yoke of outlandish men about their necks.[979] With the two armies in this temper, the success of Godwine was certain; all that was needed was for the Earl to insure that it should be a bloodless success. The |Godwine demands his restoration;| object of Godwine was to secure his own restoration and the deliverance of his country without striking a blow. He sent a message to the King, praying that he and his might be restored to all that had been unjustly taken from |Eadward hesitates; increased indignation of Godwine’s men;| them.[980] The King, with his Norman favourites around him, hesitated for a while. The indignation of the Earl’s men grew deeper and louder; fierce cries were heard against the King and against all who took part with him; no power less than that of Godwine could have checked the demand for instant battle.[981] The result of a battle could hardly have been doubtful. Ralph the Timid and Richard the son of Scrob, even the pious Earl Odda himself, would hardly, even at the head of more willing soldiers, have found themselves a match for the warrior who had fleshed his sword at Sherstone and Assandun, and who had made the name of Englishman a name of terror among the stoutest |Godwine restrains their eagerness.| warriors of the shores of the Baltic.[982] But it was not with axe and javelin that that day’s victory was to be won. The mighty voice, the speaking look and gesture, of that old man eloquent could again sway assemblies of Englishmen at his will.[983] His irresistible tongue now pleaded with all earnestness against any hasty act of violence or disloyalty. His own conscience was clear from any lack of faithfulness; he would willingly die rather than do, or allow to be done on his behalf, any act of wrong or irreverence towards his Lord the King.[984] The appeal was successful in every way. The eagerness of his own men was checked, and time was given for wiser counsels to |Embassy of Stigand; hostages exchanged and matters referred to a Gemót.| resume their sway on the other side. Bishop Stigand and other wise men, both from within and from without the city, appeared on board the Earl’s ship in the character of mediators. It was soon agreed to give hostages on both sides, and to defer the decision of all matters to a solemn Gemót to be holden the next morning.[985] Godwine, Harold, and such of their followers as thought good, now left their |Godwine and Harold land.| ships, and once more set foot in peace on the soil of their native island.[986] The Earl and his sons no doubt betook themselves to his own house in Southwark, and there waited for the gathering of the next day with widely different feelings from those with which they had last waited in that house for the decisions of an Assembly of the Wise.

But there were those about Eadward who could not with the like calmness await the sentence of the great tribunal which was to give judgement on the morrow. |Fears of the King’s Norman favourites.| There were those high in Church and State who knew too well what would be the inevitable vote of a free assembly of Englishmen. There were Thegns and Prelates in Eadward’s court who saw in the promised meeting of the Witan of the land only a gathering of men eager to inflict on them the righteous punishment of their evil deeds. First and foremost among them was the Norman monk whom the blind partiality of Eadward had thrust into the highest place in the English Church. Robert of Jumièges, the man who, more than any other one man, had stirred up strife between the King and his people, the man who, more than any other one man, had driven the noblest sons of England into banishment, now felt that his hour was come. He dared not face the assembled nation which he had outraged; he dared not take his place in that great Council of which his office made him the highest member. The like fear fell on Ulf of Dorchester, the Bishop who had done nought bishoplike, on William of London, and on all the Frenchmen, priests and knights alike, who had sunned themselves in the smiles of the court, but who shrank from meeting the assembly of the people. Flight |General flight of the foreigners.| was their only hope. As soon as the news came that peace was made, and that all matters were referred to a lawful Gemót, the whole company of the strangers who had been the curse of England mounted their horses and rode for their lives. Eastward, westward, northward, Norman knights and priests were seen hurrying. Godwine and Harold, in the like case, had been treacherously pursued;[987] but these men, criminals as they were fleeing from the vengeance of an offended nation, were allowed to go whither they would unmolested. Whatever violence was done was wholly the act of the strangers. Some rode west to the castle in Herefordshire, Pentecost’s castle, the original cause of so much mischief; some rode towards a castle in the north, belonging to the Norman Staller, Robert the son of Wymarc.[988] The Bishops, perhaps the objects of a still fiercer popular indignation than even the lay favourites, undertook a still more perilous journey by themselves. What became of William of London is not quite plain,[989] but we have |Flight of Archbishop Robert and Bishop Ulf.| a graphic description of the escape of the Prelates of Canterbury and Dorchester. Robert and Ulf, mounted and sword in hand, cut their way through the streets, wounding and slaying as they went;[990] they burst through the east gate of London; they rode straight for the haven of Eadwulfsness;[991] there they found an old crazy ship;[992] they went on board of her and so gat them over sea. Never again did those evil Prelates trouble England with their personal presence; but the tongue of Robert was still busy in other lands to do hurt to England and her people. The patriotic chronicler raises an emphatic note of triumph over the ignominious flight of the stranger Primate. “He left behind his pall and all Christendom here in the land, even as God it willed; for that he had before taken upon him that worship, as God willed it not.”[993]

Meeting of the Mycel Gemót. Tuesday, September 15th.

In the morning the great Assembly met.[994] The great city and its coasts were now clear of strangers, save such as had come in the train of the deliverers.[995] The people of England—for such a gathering may well deserve that name—came together to welcome its friends and to pronounce sentence upon its enemies. The two armies and the citizens of London formed a multitude which no building could |It meets in the open air.| contain. That Mickle Gemót, whose memory long lived in the minds of Englishmen, came together, in old Teutonic fashion, in the open air without the walls of London.[996] The scene was pictured ages before by the pencil of Tacitus and sung in yet earlier days by the voice of Homer. It may still be seen, year by year, among the |Its popular character.| mountains of Uri and in the open market-place of Trogen. Other Assemblies of those times may have shrunk up into Councils of a small body of Thegns and Prelates; but on that great day the English people appeared, in all the fulness of its ancient rights, as a coordinate authority with the English King.[997] Men came armed to the place of meeting;[998] our fathers did so in their old homes beyond the sea, and our distant kinsmen still preserve the same immemorial use in the free assemblies of Appenzell.[999] But the enemy was no longer at hand; in that great gathering of liberated and rejoicing Englishmen sword and axe were needed only as parts of a solemn pageant, or to give further effect to the harangue of a practised orator. There, girt with warlike weapons, but shorn of the help and countenance of Norman knights and Norman churchmen,[1000] sat the King of the English, driven at last to meet face to face with a free assembly of his people. There were all the Earls and all the best men that were in this land;[1001] there was the mighty multitude of English freemen, gathered to hail the return of the worthiest of their own blood. And |Godwine at the Gemót.| there, surrounded by his four valiant sons, stood the great deliverer, the man who had set the King upon his throne, the man who had refused to obey his unlawful orders, who had cleared the land of his unworthy favourites, but who had never swerved in his true loyalty to the King and his Kingdom. The man at whose mere approach the foreign knights and Prelates had fled for their lives,[1002] could now |He supplicates the King;| afford to assume the guise of humble supplication towards the sovereign who had received his Crown at his hands. Godwine stood forth; he laid his axe at the foot of the throne, and knelt, as in the act of homage, before his Lord the King.[1003] By the Crown upon his brow, whose highest and brightest ornament was the cross of Christ, he conjured his sovereign to allow him to clear himself |he speaks to the people.| before the King and his people of all the crimes which had been laid against him and his house.[1004] The demand could not be refused, and the voice which had so often swayed assemblies of Englishmen, was heard once more, in all the fulness of its eloquence, setting forth the innocence of Godwine himself and of Harold and all his sons.[1005] Few[1006] and weighty were the words which the great Earl spoke that day before the King and all the people of the land.[1007] But they were words which at once carried the whole Assembly with them. Those who have heard the most spirit-stirring of earthly sounds, when a sovereign people binds itself to observe the laws which it has itself decreed, when thousands of voices join as one man in the repetition of one solemn formula,[1008] can conceive the shout of assent with which the assembled multitude agreed to the proposal that Godwine should be deemed to have cleared himself of |The Assembly decrees his acquittal and restoration.| every charge. The voice of that great Assembly, the voice of the English nation, at once declared him guiltless, at once decreed the restoration of himself, his sons, and all his followers, to all the lands, offices, and honours which they had held in the days before his outlawry. The old charges were thus again solemnly set aside, and an amnesty was proclaimed for all the irregular acts of the last three months of revolution. The last year was as it were wiped out; Godwine was once more Earl of the West-Saxons, Harold was once more Earl of the East-Angles, as if Eustace and Robert had never led astray the simplicity |It decrees the outlawry and deprivation of Archbishop Robert and many other Normans.| of the royal saint. And yet more; it was not enough merely to put England again into the state in which she stood at the moment of the banishment of Godwine. It was needful to punish the authors of all the evils that had happened, and to guard against the possible recurrence of such evils in days to come. The deepest in guilt of all the royal favourites was felt to be the Norman Archbishop. He had taken himself beyond the reach of justice; but, had he been present, the mildness of English political warfare would have hindered any severer sentence than that which was actually pronounced. “He had done most to cause the strife between Earl Godwine and the King”[1009]—the words of the formal resolution peep out, as they so often do, in the words of the Chronicler—and, on this charge, Robert was deprived of his see, and was solemnly declared an outlaw. The like sentence was pronounced against “all the Frenchmen”—we are again reading the words of the sentence—“who had reared up bad law, and judged unjust judgements, and counselled evil |Normans excepted from the sentence.| counsel in this land.”[1010] But the sentence did not extend to all the men of Norman birth or of French speech who were settled in the country. It was intended only to strike actual offenders. By an exception capable of indefinite and dangerous extension, those were excepted “whom the King liked, and who were true to him and all his folk.”[1011] Lastly, in the old formula which we have so often already |“Good law” decreed.| come across—“Good law was decreed for all folk.”[1012] As in other cases, the expression refers far more to administration than to legislation, to the observance of old laws rather than to the enactment of new. The Frenchmen had reared up bad law; that is, they had been guilty of corrupt and unjust administration; the good law, that is, the good government of former times, was now to be restored. There was no need to renew the Law of Eadgar or of Cnut or of any other King of past times. The “good state,” as an Italian patriot might have called it, was not, in the eyes of that Assembly, a vision of past times, a tradition of the days of their fathers or of the old time before them. It was simply what every man could remember for himself, in the days before Robert, and men like Robert, had obtained exclusive possession of the royal ear. There was no need to go back to any more distant standard than the earliest years of the reigning King. Good Law was decreed for all folk. Things were to be once more as they had been in the days when Earl Godwine had been the chief adviser of the King on whom he had himself bestowed the Crown.

Personal reconciliation of Godwine and the King.

The work of the Assembly was done; the innocent had been restored, the guilty had been punished; the nation had bound itself to the maintenance of law and right. Godwine was again the foremost man in the realm. But though the political restoration was perfect, the personal reconciliation seems still to have cost the King a struggle.[1013] It required the counsel of wise men, and a full conviction that all resistance was hopeless, before Eadward again received his injured father-in-law to his personal friendship. At last he yielded; King and Earl walked unarmed to the Palace of Westminster, and there, on his own hearth, Eadward again admitted Godwine to the kiss of peace. To receive again to his friendship the wife and sons of Godwine, Gytha, Harold, Tostig, Gyrth, and Leofwine, probably cost him no special struggle. They had never personally offended him, and they seem, even before their outlawry, to have won his personal affection. But the complete restoration of the family to its former honours required another step which |Restoration of the Lady Eadgyth.| may perhaps have caused Eadward a pang. When Godwine, his wife and his sons, were restored to their old honours, it was impossible to refuse the like restitution to his daughter. The Lady Eadgyth was brought back with all royal pomp from her cloister at Wherwell; she received again all the lands and goods of which she had been deprived, and was restored to the place, whatever that place may have been, which she had before held in the court and household of Eadward.[1014]

Absence of Swegen;

The restoration of the house of Godwine to its rank and honours was thus complete, so far as the members of that house had appeared in person to claim again that which they had lost. But in the glories of that day the eldest born of Godwine and Gytha had no part. Swegen had shared his father’s banishment; he had not shared his father’s return. His guilty, but not hardened, soul had been stricken to the earth by the memory of his crimes. |his pilgrimage to Jerusalem,| The blood of Beorn, the wrongs of Eadgifu, lay heavy upon his spirit. At the bidding of his own remorse, he had left his father and brothers behind in Flanders, and had gone, barefooted, on a pilgrimage to the Holy Tomb. He fulfilled his vow, but he lived not to return to his Earldom or to his native land. While his father and brothers were making their triumphant defence before their assembled countrymen, Swegen was toiling back, slowly and wearily, through the dwelling-places of men of other tongues and of other creeds. The toil was too great for a frame no doubt already bowed down by remorse and penance. Cold, |and death in Lykia. September 29, 1052.| exposure, and weariness were too much for him, and fourteen days after Godwine’s solemn restoration in London, the eldest son of Godwine breathed his last in some unknown spot of the distant land of Lykia.[1015]

There is no doubt that the three great decrees, for the restoration of Godwine and his family, for the outlawry of the Archbishop and the other Normans, and for the renewal of the good laws, were all passed in the great Gemót of this memorable Tuesday.[1016] Other measures which were their natural complement may well have been dealt with in later, perhaps in less crowded and excited, |Disposition of Earldoms; Ælfgar gives way to Harold.| assemblies. Some of the greatest offices in Church and State had to be disposed of. Godwine and Harold received their old Earldoms back again. The restoration of Harold implied the deposition of Ælfgar. It is singular that we find no distinct mention either of him or of his father, or yet of Siward, through the whole history of the revolution. The only hint which we have on the subject seems to imply that they at least acquiesced in the changes which were made, and even that Ælfgar cheerfully submitted to the loss |Ralph.| of his Earldom.[1017] As Swegen did not return, there was no need to disturb Ralph in his Earldom of the Magesætas. |Odda.| Odda must have given up that portion of Godwine’s Earldom which had been entrusted to him,[1018] but he seems to have been indemnified by the Earldom of the Hwiccas, held most probably with the reservation of a superiority on the part of Leofric.[1019]

The vacant Bishopricks.

The disposal of the Bishopricks which had become vacant by the flight of their foreign occupants was a more important matter, at least it led to more important consequences in the long run. At the moment of Godwine’s restoration, it probably did not occur to any Englishman to doubt that they were vacant both in fact and in law. Robert and Ulf had fled from their sees; they had been declared outlaws by the highest authority of the nation, or rather by the nation itself. Our forefathers most likely thought very little about canonical subtleties. They would hardly argue the point whether the Bishops had resigned or had been deprived, nor would they doubt that the nation had full power to deprive them. In whatever way the vacancies had occurred, the sees were in fact vacant; there was no Archbishop at Canterbury and no Bishop at Dorchester. That the King and his Witan would be stepping beyond their powers in filling those sees was not likely to come into |Relation of Church and State at the time. Identity of the two bodies.| any man’s head. We must remember how thoroughly the English nation and the English Church were then identified. No broad line was drawn between ecclesiastical and temporal causes, between ecclesiastical and temporal offices. The immediate personal duties of an Earl and of a Bishop were undoubtedly different; but the two dignitaries acted within their shire with a joint authority in many matters which, a hundred years later, would have been divided between a distinct civil and a distinct ecclesiastical tribunal. In appointing a Bishop, though we have seen that canonical election was not shut out, we have also seen that the Witan of the land had their share in the matter, and that it was by the King’s writ that the Bishoprick was formally bestowed.[1020] What the King and his Witan gave, the King and his Witan could doubtless take away, and they accordingly proceeded to deal with the sees of the outlawed Bishops exactly as they would have dealt |Vacancy of Canterbury filled by Stigand. 1052.| with the Earldoms of outlawed Earls. It might almost seem that the see of the chief offender, the Norman Primate, was at once bestowed by the voice of the great Assembly which restored Godwine.[1021] It was at all events bestowed within the year, while the Bishopricks of London and Dorchester were allowed to remain vacant some time longer. It may perhaps be thought that the appointment which was actually made to the see of Canterbury bears signs of being an act of the joyous fervour with which the nation welcomed its deliverance. It might have been expected that the claims of Ælfric to the Primacy would have revived on the expulsion of Robert. Ælfric had been canonically elected by the monks of Christ Church; no one seems to have objected to him except the King and his Frenchmen; he possessed all possible virtues, and he was moreover a kinsman of Earl Godwine. But, in the enthusiasm of the moment, there was one name which would attract more suffrages than that of any other Prelate or Priest in England. On that great Holy Cross Day the services of Stigand to the national cause had been second only to those of Godwine himself. As Robert had been the first to make strife, so Stigand had been the first to make peace, between the King and the great Earl. For such a service the highest place in the national Church would not, at the moment, seem too splendid a reward. Ælfric was accordingly forgotten, and Stigand was, either in the great Gemót of September or in the regular Gemót of the following Christmas, appointed to the Archbishoprick of Canterbury. With the Primacy, according to a practice vicious enough in itself, but which might have been defended by abundance of precedents, he continued to hold the see of Winchester in plurality.

Importance of this appointment.

This appointment of Stigand was one of great moment in many ways. Amongst other things, it gave an |Handle given to the Normans by Robert’s expulsion.| excellent handle to the wily Duke of the Normans, and thus became one of the collateral causes of the Norman Conquest. The outlawed Robert retired in the end to his own monastery of Jumièges, and there died and was buried. But he did not die till he had made Europe resound with the tale of his wrongs. The world soon heard how a Norman Primate had been expelled from his see, how an Englishman had been enthroned in his place, by sheer secular violence, without the slightest pretence of canonical form. Robert told his tale at Rome;[1022] we may be sure that he also told it at Rouen. William treasured it up, and knew how to use it when the time came. In his bill of indictment against England, the expulsion of Archbishop Robert appears as a prominent count.[1023] It is bracketted with the massacre of Saint Brice, with the murder of Ælfred, and with all the other stories which, though they could not make William’s claim to the Crown one whit stronger, yet served admirably to discredit the cause of England in men’s minds. No one knew better than William how to make everything of this sort tell. The restoration of Godwine was an immediate check to all his plans; it rendered his hopes of a peaceful succession far less probable. But the expulsion of Robert and the other Normans was a little sweet in the cup of bitterness. The English, and Earl Godwine himself, in their insular recklessness of canonical niceties, had unwittingly put another weapon into the hands of the foe who was carefully biding his time.

Doubtful ecclesiastical position of Stigand.

Even in England the position of Stigand was a very doubtful one.[1024] He was de facto Archbishop, he acted as such in all political matters, and was addressed as such in royal writs. We hear of no opposition to him, of no attempt at his removal, till William himself was King. He was undoubtedly an able and patriotic statesman, and his merits in this way doubtless prevented any direct move against him. And yet even Englishmen, and patriotic Englishmen, seem to have been uneasy as to his ecclesiastical position. For six years he was an Archbishop without a pallium; it was one of the charges against him |He receives the pallium from the Antipope Benedict. 1058.| that he used the pallium of his predecessor Robert. At last he obtained the coveted ornament from Rome, but it was from the hands of a Pontiff whose occupation of the Holy See was short, and who, as his cause was unsuccessful, was not looked on by the Church as a canonical Pope. In fact, in strict ecclesiastical eyes, Stigand’s reception of the pallium from Benedict the Tenth seems only to have |His ministrations commonly avoided.| made matters worse than they were before. At any rate, both before and after this irregular investiture, men seem to have avoided recourse to his hands for any great ecclesiastical rite. Most of the Bishops of his province were, during his incumbency, consecrated by other hands.[1025] Even Harold himself, politically his firm friend, preferred the ministry of other Prelates in the two great ecclesiastical ceremonies of his life, the consecration of Waltham and his own coronation. One of our Chroniclers, not indeed the most patriotic of their number, distinctly and significantly denies Stigand’s right to be called Archbishop.[1026] One cannot help thinking that all this canonical precision must have arisen among the foreign ecclesiastics who held English preferment, among the Lotharingians favoured by Godwine and Harold, no less than among the King’s own Normans. But at all events the scruple soon became prevalent among Englishmen of all classes. An ecclesiastical punctilio which led Harold himself, on the occasion of two of the most solemn events of his life, to offer a distinct slight to a political friend of the highest rank, must have obtained a very firm possession of the national mind.

Ulf succeeded by Wulfwig. 1053–1067.

The case of Stigand is the more remarkable, because no such difficulties are spoken of as arising with regard to the position of another Prelate whose case seems at first sight to have been just the same as his own. If Robert was irregularly deprived, Ulf was equally so. Yet no objection seems to have been made to the canonical character of Wulfwig, who, in the course of the next year, succeeded Ulf in the see of Dorchester.[1027] It is possible that the key to the difference may be found in the fact of the long vacancy of Dorchester. This suggests the idea of some application to Rome, which was successful in the case of Wulfwig and unsuccessful in the case of Stigand. We can well conceive that the deprivation of Ulf may have been confirmed, and that of Robert, as far as the Papal power could annul it, annulled. It must be remembered that Ulf, on account of his utter lack of learning, had found great difficulty in obtaining the Papal approval of his first nomination. The sins of Robert, on the other hand, seem to have been only sins against England, which would pass for very venial errors at Rome. This difference may perhaps account for the different treatment of their two successors. At any rate, Wulfwig seems to have found no opposition in any quarter to his occupancy of the great Mid-English Bishoprick. And he seems to have himself set the example of the scruple which has been just mentioned against recognizing Stigand in any |Leofwine Bishop of Lichfield. 1053–1067.| purely spiritual matter. Along with Leofwine, who in the same year became Bishop of Lichfield, he went beyond sea to receive consecration, and the way in which this journey is mentioned seems to imply that their motive was a dislike to be consecrated by the hands of the new Metropolitan.[1028]

William of London retains his Bishoprick.

The see of London was treated in a different way from those of Canterbury and Dorchester, and a way certainly most honourable to its Norman occupant. We have seen that it is not certain whether Bishop William accompanied Robert and Ulf in their escape from England.[1029] It is certain that, if he left England, he was before long invited to return and to reoccupy his see. This may have been the act of Harold after the death of his father. It is an obvious conjecture that Harold would be somewhat less strict in such matters than his wary and experienced parent, and that he would listen with somewhat more favour to the King’s requests for the retention or restoration of some of his favourites.[1030] But it is certain that a Norman whom either Godwine or Harold allowed either to retain, or to return to, the great see of London must have been a man of a very different kind from Robert and Ulf. We are expressly told that William’s Bishoprick was restored to him on account of his good character.[1031] Indeed the character which could obtain such forbearance for a Norman at such a moment must have been unusually good, when we remember that he actually had an English competitor for the see. Spearhafoc, it will not be forgotten, had been regularly nominated to the Bishoprick, and though refused consecration, had held its temporalities till the outlawry of Godwine allowed a Norman to be put in his place.[1032] But the claims of Spearhafoc on the see of London seem to have been as wholly forgotten as the claims of Ælfric on the see of Canterbury. William retained the Bishoprick throughout the reigns of Eadward and Harold, and he died, deeply honoured by the city over which he |1070.| ruled, four years after the accession of his namesake.

Normans allowed to remain or return.

William was the only Norman who retained a Bishoprick, as Ralph was the only stranger of any nation—for we can hardly count Siward as a stranger—who retained an Earldom, after the restoration of Godwine. But, under the terms of the exception to the general outlawry of Normans, a good many men of that nation retained or recovered inferior, though still considerable, offices. We have a list of those who were thus excepted, which contains some names which we are surprised to find there. The exception was to apply to those only who had been true to the King and his people. Yet among the Normans who remained we find Richard the son of Scrob,[1033] |Osbern of Richard’s castle.| and among those who returned we find his son Osbern. These two men were among the chief authors of all evil. Osbern was so conscious of guilt, or so fearful of popular vengeance, that, in company with a comrade named Hugh, he threw himself on the mercy of Earl Leofric. Osbern and Hugh surrendered their castles, and passed with the Earl’s safe-conduct into Scotland, where, along with other exiles, they were favourably received by the reigning King Macbeth.[1034] Yet it is certain that Osbern afterwards returned, and held both lands and offices in Herefordshire.[1035] Others mentioned are Robert the Deacon, described as the father-in-law of Richard, and who must therefore have been an old man,[1036] Humphrey Cocksfoot, whom I cannot further identify, and Ælfred the King’s stirrup-holder.[1037] The list might be largely extended on the evidence of Domesday and the Charters. Some of the most remarkable names are those of the Stallers, Robert the son of Wymarc and Ralph,[1038] and the King’s Chamberlain, Hugh or Hugolin, a person who has found his way from the dry entries in the Survey and the Charters into the legend of his sainted master.[1039] Altogether the number of Normans who remained in England during the later days of |Some of them probably restored after Godwine’s death.| Eadward was clearly not small. And, as some at least were evidently restored after flight or banishment, the suggestion again presents itself that their restoration was owing to special entreaties of the King after the death of Godwine. Harold, in the first days of his administration, may hardly have been in a position to refuse such entreaties. And, in any case, though we may call it a weakness to allow men, some of whom at least were dangerous, to remain in, or return to, the country, yet for a subject newly exalted to give too willing an ear to the prayers of his sovereign, is a weakness which may easily be forgiven.

The revolution was thus accomplished, a revolution of |Estimate of Godwine’s conduct.| which England may well be proud. In the words of a contemporary writer, the wisdom of Godwine had redressed all the evils of the country without shedding a drop of blood.[1040] The moderation of the Earl, the way in which he kept back his ardent followers, the way in which he preserved his personal loyalty to the King,[1041] are beyond all praise. He had delivered his country, he and his had been restored to the favour of their prince, and he now again entered on his old duties as Earl of the West-Saxons and virtual ruler of the Kingdom of England. We may be sure that his popularity had never been so high, or his general authority so boundless, as it was during the short remainder of his life. For Godwine was not destined to any long enjoyment of his renewed honour and prosperity; England was not destined to look much longer |Godwine’s illness.| upon the champion who had saved her. Soon after his restoration the Earl began to sicken;[1042] but he still continued his attention to public affairs, and we can see the working of his vigorous hand in the energetic way in |Christmas Gemót at Gloucester. 1052–1053.| which a Welsh marauder was dealt with at the Christmas Gemót of this year, held as usual at Gloucester. Rhys, the brother of Gruffydd King of the South-Welsh, had been guilty of many plundering expeditions at a place called Bulendún, the position of which seems to be unknown. Early in the year the Northern Gruffydd had ravaged the border at pleasure; now we read, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world, that a decree of the Witan—a bill of attainder we may call it—was passed for the |Rhys beheaded and his head brought to Eadward. January 5, 1053.| execution of the Welsh prince.[1043] The decree was duly carried out, and the Christmas festivities were not over, when the head of Rhys was brought to King Eadward, on the vigil of the Epiphany, exactly thirteen years before his |Arnwig resigns the Abbey of Peterborough. Leofric succeeds.| own death.[1044] It was seemingly in the same Gemót that Arnwig, Abbot of Peterborough, resigned his abbey, “and gave it to Leofric the monk by the King’s leave and that of the monks.”[1045] This expression is remarkable, as illustrating that union of royal, capitular, and we may add parliamentary, action, which we have already noticed as prevailing in the appointment of English Prelates in those days.[1046] The process was no doubt the same as that by which it had been attempted to raise Ælfric to the see of Canterbury. The monks, at the suggestion of Arnwig, elected Leofric as his successor. They petitioned the King and his Witan to confirm the election. In this case the |Leofric Abbot of Peterborough. 1053–1066.| confirmation was granted, whereas in the case of Ælfric it had been refused. Abbot Leofric, a nephew of his namesake the Earl, was a man of high birth and of high spirit.[1047] He ruled the great house of Saint Peter with all honour for thirteen years; he enriched the monastery with lands and ornaments of all kinds, and won for it the favour of the King and all the great men of the land. Peterborough, under his rule, became so rich in the precious metals that men called the house Gildenborough.[1048] But, in the eyes of English patriots, Abbot Leofric has won a still higher fame by an act less clearly coming within the range of his ecclesiastical duties. He was one of those great Lords of the Church who did not feel that they were hindered by their monastic vows from marching by the side of Harold to the great battle.[1049]

Easter Gemót at Winchester. 1053.

The next great festival of the Church, the next great assembly of the English Witan, beheld the death of the most renowned Englishman of that generation. The King kept the Easter festival at Winchester, and on the Monday of that week of rejoicing, the Earl of the West-Saxons, with his sons Harold, Tostig, and Gyrth, were admitted |Godwine’s illness, April 12,| to the royal table. During the meal Godwine fell from his seat speechless and powerless. His sons lifted him from the ground, and carried him to the King’s own bower, in hopes of his recovery. Their hopes were in vain; the Earl |and death, April 15.| never spoke again, and, after lying insensible for three days, he died on the following Thursday. Such is the simple, yet detailed, account which a contemporary writer gives us of an event which has, perhaps even more than any other event of these times, been seized upon as a subject for Norman romance and calumny. There was undoubtedly something striking and awful in the sight of the first man in England, in all the full glory of his recovered power, thus suddenly smitten with his death-blow. He had been, as we have seen, ailing for some months, but the actual stroke, when it came, seems to have been quite unlooked for. It is not wonderful that, in such a death at such a moment, men saw a |Norman fictions about the death of Godwine.| special work of divine judgement. It is not wonderful that Norman enemies brought the old scandals up again, and decked out the tale of the death of the murderer of Ælfred with the most appalling details of God’s vengeance upon the hardened and presumptuous sinner. I shall elsewhere discuss their romantic inventions, which in truth belong less to the province of the historian than to that of the comparative mythologist.[1050] It is more important to note here that one English writer seems to see in Godwine’s death the punishment of his real or supposed |Bounty of Gytha.| aggressions on the property of the Church.[1051] On this last score however the bounty of his widow did all that she could to make atonement for any wrongdoings on the part of the deceased. The pious munificence of Gytha is acknowledged even by those who are most bitter against her husband, and it now showed itself in lavish offerings for the repose of the soul of Godwine.[1052] His place of burial |Godwine buried in the Old Minster.| need hardly be mentioned. The man who was greater than a King, the maker and the father of Kings, found his last resting-place among Kings. His corpse was laid by that of the King under whom he had risen to greatness, by that of the Lady whose rights he had so stoutly defended, by that of the first King whom he had placed on the West-Saxon throne, by that of the murdered nephew whose death had cast the first shade of gloom upon his house. The Earl of the West-Saxons, dying in the West-Saxon capital, was buried with all pomp in the greatest of West-Saxon sanctuaries, in the Old Minster of Winchester.[1053] That renowned church was enriched with lands |General grief of the nation.| and ornaments in memory of the dead. But the noblest offering of all was the grief of the nation which he had saved. His real faults, his imaginary crimes, were all forgotten. Men remembered only that the greatest man of their blood and speech was taken from them. They thought of the long years of peace and righteous government which they had enjoyed under his rule; they thought of the last and greatest of his great deeds, how he had chased the stranger from the land, and had made England England once again. Around the bier of Godwine men wept as for a father; they wept for the man whose hand had guided England and her people through all the storms of so many years of doubt and danger.[1054] They little deemed that, ages after his death, calumnies would still be heaped upon his name. They deemed not that the lies of the stranger would take such root that the deliverer for whom they mourned would live in the pages of pretended history as Godwine the traitor. The time is now come to redress the wrong, and to do tardy justice to the fair fame of one of the greatest of England’s worthies. |True estimate of Godwine’s character.| To know what Godwine was, we have but to cast away the fables of later days, to turn to the records of his own time, to see how he looked in the eyes of men who had seen and heard him, of men who had felt the blessings of his rule and whose hearts had been stirred by the voice of his mighty eloquence. No man ever deserved a higher or a more lasting place in national gratitude than the first man who, being neither King nor Priest, stands forth in English history as endowed with all the highest attributes of the statesman. In him, in those distant times, we can revere the great minister, the unrivalled parliamentary leader, the man who could sway councils and assemblies at his will, and whose voice, during five and thirty years of political life, was never raised in any cause but that of the welfare of England. Side by side with all that is worthiest in our later history—side by side with his own counterpart two ages afterwards, the second deliverer from the yoke of the stranger, the victor of Lewes, the martyr of Evesham—side by side with all who, from his day to ours, have, in the field or in the senate, struggled or suffered in the cause of English freedom—side by side with the worthies of the thirteenth and the worthies of the seventeenth century—will the voice of truthful history, rising above the calumnies of ages, place the name of the great deliverer of the eleventh, the Earl of happy memory,[1055] whose greatness was ever the greatness of England, whose life was one long offering to her welfare, and whose death came fittingly as the crown of that glorious life, when he had once more given peace and freedom to the land which he loved so well.

§ 2. From the Accession of Harold to the Earldom of the West-Saxons to his first War with Gruffydd. 1053–1056.

The great Earl was dead, and the office which he had held, an office which no man had ever held before him,[1056] was again at the disposal of the King and his Witan. As Godwine’s death had happened at the Easter festival, the Great Council of the nation was doubtless still in session. We may therefore assume, with perfect safety, that the appointments which the Earl’s death rendered needful |Nature of the succession to Earldoms.| were made at once, before the Assembly dispersed. The nature of the succession to these great governments must by this time be perfectly well understood. The King and his Witan might nominate whom they would to a vacant Earldom; but there was a strong feeling, whenever there was no special reason to the contrary, in favour of appointing the son of a deceased Earl. In Earldoms, like those of Mercia and Northumberland, where an ancient house had been in possession for several generations, this sort of preference had grown into the same kind of imperfect hereditary right which existed in the case of the Crown itself. It would have required a very strong case indeed for King and Witan to feel themselves justified in appointing any one but a son of Leofric to succeed Leofric in the government of Mercia. But in the case of |Special position of East-Anglia.| Wessex and East-Anglia no such inchoate right could be put forward by any man. The old East-Anglian house had probably become extinct, either through the slaughter of Assandun, or through the executions in the early days of Cnut.[1057] If not extinct, it had, at all events, sunk into insignificance, and had become lost to history. The Danish Thurkill had founded no dynasty in his Earldom. We cannot even make out with certainty the succession of Earls between |and Wessex.| him and Harold. The Earldom of the West-Saxons was a mere creation of Cnut himself. It would have broken in upon no feeling of ancient tradition, if the office had been abolished, and if the King had taken into his own hands the immediate government of the old cradle of his |Reasons for retaining the West-Saxon Earldom.| house. But such a step would have been distinctly a backward step. The King of the English was now King in every part of his realm alike. Certain parts of his realm might enjoy more of his personal presence than others; certain parts might even be practically more amenable to his authority than others; each great division of the Kingdom might still retain its local laws and customs; but there was still only one English Kingdom; no part of that Kingdom was a dependency of any other part; the King was King of the West-Saxons in no other sense than that in which he was King of the Northumbrians. But, if the local West-Saxon Earldom had been abolished, instead of a King of the English, reigning over one united Kingdom, there would again have been a King of the West-Saxons, holding East-Anglia, Mercia, and Northumberland as dependent provinces. Here then were good political reasons for retaining the institution of the Great Cnut, and for again appointing an Earl of the West-Saxons. Reverence also for the memory of the great man who was gone pleaded equally for the same course. An Earl of the West-Saxons had done more for England than any other subject had ever done. With Godwine and his great deeds still living in the minds and on the tongues of men, there could be little doubt as to giving him a successor; there could be hardly more of doubt as to who that successor should be.

Harold Earl of the West-Saxons. Easter, 1053.

The choice of the King and his Witan fell upon the eldest surviving son of the late Earl.[1058] Harold was removed from the government of the East-Angles to the greater government of the West-Saxons. This was, under such a King as Eadward, equivalent to investing him with the practical management of the King and his Kingdom. Harold then, when he could not have passed the age of thirty-two,[1059] became the first man in England. His career up to this time had been stained by what in our eyes seems to be more than one great fault, but it is clear that, in the eyes of his contemporaries, his merits far outweighed his errors. He had perhaps been guilty of selfishness in the matter of his brother Swegen;[1060] he had certainly been guilty of |Joy of the nation.| needless violence in the affair at Porlock. But the universal joy of the nation at his new promotion[1061] shows that the general character of his East-Anglian government must have given the brightest hopes for the future. Grief for the loss of Godwine was tempered by rejoicing at the elevation of one who at once began to walk in his father’s |Character of his government.| steps. From henceforth, as Earl and as King, the career of Harold is one of vigorous and just government, of skill and valour in the field, of unvarying moderation towards political foes. He won and he kept the devoted love of the English people. And, what was a harder task, he won and kept, though in a less degree than another of his house, the personal confidence and affection of the weak and wayward prince with whom he had to deal.

Ælfgar Earl of the East-Angles.

The translation of Harold to the greater government of Wessex made a vacancy in his former Earldom of the East-Angles. It would probably have been difficult to refuse the post to the man who had already held it for a short space, Ælfgar, the son of Leofric of Mercia. His appointment left only one of the great Earldoms in the House of Godwine, while the House of Leofric now again ruled from the North-Welsh border to the German Ocean.[1062] But it quite fell in with Harold’s conciliatory policy to raise no objection to an arrangement which seemed to reverse the positions of the two families. The possession of Wessex was an object paramount to all others, and all the chances of the future were in favour of the rising House. Ælfgar accordingly became Earl of the |Character of Ælfgar and his sons.| East-Angles.[1063] His career was turbulent and unhappy. The virtues of Leofric and Godgifu seem not to have been inherited by their descendants.[1064] We hear of Ælfgar and of his sons mainly as rebels in whom no confidence could be placed, as traitors to every King and to every cause, as men who never scrupled to call in the aid of any foreign enemy in order to promote their personal objects. Rivalry towards Harold and his house was doubtless one great mainspring of their actions, but the Norman Conqueror and the last male descendant of Cerdic found it as vain as ever Harold had found it to put trust in the grandsons of Leofric.

Probable restoration of Bishop William and other Normans.

I have already suggested that it was probably in consequence of the death of Godwine and the succession of Harold that the restoration of some of the King’s Norman favourites, especially of William Bishop of London, was allowed.[1065] This may have taken place at this same Easter festival; but it is more natural to refer it to some later Gemót of the same year. It is certain that, during this second portion of the reign of Eadward, a considerable number of Normans, or others bearing Norman or French |Position of the Normans in the later days of Eadward.| names, were established in England.[1066] It is equally certain that their position differed somewhat from what it had been before the outlawry of Godwine. The attempts to put them in possession of the great offices of the Kingdom were not renewed. Ralph retained his Earldom, William was allowed to return to his Bishoprick. The royal blood of the one, the excellent character of the other, procured for them this favourable exception, which, in the case of Ralph the Timid, proved eminently unlucky. But we hear of no other Norman or French Earls, Bishops, or Abbots. |Political office forbidden,| Excepting a few of the favoured natives of Lotharingia, none but Englishmen are now preferred to the great posts of Church and State. No local office higher than that of Sheriff, and that only in one or two exceptional cases,[1067] |but Court office allowed.| was now allowed to be held by a stranger. But mere Court preferment, offices about the King’s person, seem to have been freely held by foreigners to whom there was no manifest personal objection. The King was allowed to have about him his Norman stallers, his Norman chaplains, and, an officer now first beginning· to creep into a little importance, his Norman chancellor. And those Normans who were tolerated at all seem to have been looked on with less suspicion than they had been during the former period. They are now freely allowed to witness the royal charters, which implies their acting as members of the national assemblies.[1068] Their position is now clearly one of personal favour, not of political influence. They are hardly mentioned in our history; we have to trace them out by the light of entries |English character of Eadward’s later policy.| in Domesday and of signatures to Charters. Once only shall we have any reason to suspect that the course of events was influenced by them. And in that one case their influence is a mere surmise, and if it was exercised at all, it must have been exercised in a purely underhand way. The policy of Eadward’s reign is from henceforth distinctly an English policy. In other words, it is the policy of Harold.

Difference between the position of Godwine and that of Harold.

It is easy to understand that the feelings of Harold with regard to the foreigners differed somewhat from those of his father. They belonged to different generations. Godwine’s whole education, his whole way of looking at things, must have been purely English. It is hardly needful to make any exception on behalf of influences from Denmark. The rule of Cnut was one under which Danes became Englishmen, not one under which Englishmen became Danes. We can hardly conceive that Godwine understood the French language. Such an accomplishment would in his early days have been quite useless. We can well believe that, along with his really enlightened and patriotic policy, there was in the old Earl a good deal of mere sturdy English prejudice against strangers as strangers. But every act of Harold’s life shows that this last was a feeling altogether alien to his nature. His travels of inquiry abroad, his encouragement of deserving foreigners at home, all show him to have been a statesman who, while he maintained a strictly national policy, rose altogether above any narrow insular prejudices. That he understood French well it is impossible to doubt.[1069] If he erred at all, he was far more likely to err in granting too much indulgence to the foreign fancies of his wayward master. His policy of conciliation would forbid him to be needlessly harsh even to a Norman, and he had every motive for dealing as tenderly as possible with all the wishes and prejudices of the King. Harold stood towards Eadward in a position wholly different from that in which Godwine had stood. Godwine might claim to dictate as a father to the man to whom he had given a crown and a wife. Harold could at most claim the position of a younger brother. That Harold ruled Eadward there is no doubt, but he very distinctly ruled by obeying.[1070] Habit, temper, policy, would all lead him not to thwart the King one jot more than the interests of the Kingdom called for. The |Compromise between Harold and the King.| position of the strangers during the remaining years of Eadward’s reign is a manifest compromise between Eadward’s foreign weaknesses and Harold’s English policy. They were to be allowed to bask in the sunshine of the court; they were to be carefully shut out from political power. If Harold erred, his error, I repeat, lay in too great a toleration of the dangerous intruders.

Ecclesiastical appointments. Christmas, 1053–1054.

The remaining events of the year of Godwine’s death are some ecclesiastical appointments, which must have been made at the Christmas Gemót, and a Welsh inroad, which seems to have happened about the same time. In the one month of October three Prelates died,[1071] Wulfsige, Bishop of Lichfield, and the Abbots Godwine of Winchcombe and |Leofwine of Lichfield. 1053.| Æthelweard of Glastonbury. The see of Lichfield was bestowed on Leofwine, Abbot of Earl Leofric’s favourite monastery of Coventry.[1072] In this appointment we plainly see the hand of the Mercian Earl, of whom, considering his name, the new Bishop is not unlikely to have been a kinsman.[1073] |Wulfwig of Dorchester. 1053.| At the same time, it would seem, the see of Dorchester was at last filled by the appointment of Wulfwig, and the two Bishops, as we have seen, got them beyond sea for consecration.[1074] |Æthelnoth of Glastonbury. 1053–1082.| The new Abbot of Glastonbury was Æthelnoth, a monk of the house, who bears an ill character for dilapidation of the revenues of the monastery, but who continued to weather all storms, and to die in possession of |Bishop Ealdred holds Winchcombe.| his Abbey sixteen years after the Norman invasion.[1075] The disposition of Winchcombe is more remarkable. Ealdred, the Bishop of the diocese, who seems never to have shrunk from any fresh duties, spiritual or temporal, which came in his way, undertook the rule of that great monastery in addition to his episcopal office.[1076] This may have been mere personal love of power or pelf; but it may also have been a deliberate attempt, such as we shall see made in other cases also, to get rid of a powerful, and no doubt often troublesome, neighbour, by annexing an abbey to the Bishoprick. If such was the design of Ealdred, it did not prove successful. |He resigns it to Godric. July 17, 1054.| After holding Winchcombe for some time, he next year, willingly or unwillingly, resigned it to one Godric, who is described as the son of Godman, the King’s Chaplain.[1077]

Of the Welsh inroad, recorded by one Chronicler only, all that is said is that many of the “wardmen” at Westbury were slain.[1078] This is doubtless Westbury in Gloucestershire, on the Welsh side of the Severn. The expression seems to imply the maintenance of a permanent force to guard that exposed frontier.

Position of Macbeth in Scotland.

The next year was marked by a military and a diplomatic event, both of which were of high importance. The former is no other than the famous Scottish expedition of Earl Siward, an event which has almost passed from the domain of history into that of poetry. Macbeth, it will be remembered, was now reigning in Scotland.[1079] Like Siward himself,[1080] he had risen to power by a great crime, the murder of his predecessor, the young King Duncan. And, like Siward, he had made what atonement he could by ruling his usurped dominion vigorously and well. We have seen that there is no reason to believe that Macbeth had, since he assumed the Scottish Crown, renewed the fealty which he had paid to Cnut when he was under-King,[1081] or, in more accurate Scottish phrase, Maarmor of Moray. We have also seen that he had been striving, in a remarkable way, to make himself friends of the mammon of unrighteousness in the quarter where that mammon was believed to have the greatest influence, |Siward’s designs against Macbeth.| namely at the threshold of the Apostles.[1082] We may be sure that Earl Siward, the kinsman, probably the guardian, of the young prince whom Macbeth shut out from the Scottish Crown,[1083] had all along looked on his formidable northern neighbour with no friendly eye. It is not easy to see why the attack on Macbeth, if it was to be made at all, was so long delayed. It may be that the internal troubles of England had hitherto forbidden any movement of the kind, and that Siward took advantage of the first season of domestic quiet to execute a plan which he had long cherished. It may be that the scheme fell in better with the policy of Harold than with the policy of Godwine. Between Godwine and Siward, between the West-Saxon and the Dane, there was doubtless a standing rivalry, partly national, partly personal. But it would fall in with the conciliatory policy of Harold to help, rather than to thwart, any designs of the great Northern Earl which were not manifestly opposed to the public welfare. At all events, in this year the consent of Eadward[1084] was given, a consent which certainly implies the decree of a Witenagemót, and which almost certainly implies the good will of |Siward’s expedition against Macbeth. 1054.| Earl Harold. An expedition on a great scale was undertaken against the Scottish usurper.[1085] That it was undertaken on behalf of Malcolm, the son of the slain Duncan, can admit of no reasonable doubt. To restore the lawful heir of the Scottish Crown was an honourable pretext for interference in Scottish affairs on which any English statesman would gladly seize. And to Siward it was more than an honourable pretext; it was asserting the rights and avenging the wrongs of a near kinsman. The Earl of the Northumbrians accordingly attacked Scotland at the head of a great force both by land and by sea. The army was largely composed of the Housecarls of the King and of the Earl, picked and tried soldiers, Danish and English. |Macbeth’s alliance with Thorfinn.| Macbeth was supported[1086] by a Prince who had now become a neighbour of England, and one probably quite as dangerous as himself. This was Thorfinn, the famous Earl of the Orkneys, who had established his power over the whole of the Western Islands, and even over the coast of Scotland and Strathclyde as far south as Galloway. With his help, the Scottish King ventured to meet the host of |Defeat of Macbeth. July 27, 1054.| Siward in a pitched battle. He was encouraged by the presence of a body of the Normans who had been driven out of England at the return of Godwine. They are spoken of as if their number was large enough to form a considerable contingent of the Scottish army. The fight was an obstinate one. The Earl’s son Osbeorn and his sister’s son Siward were slain, and with them a large number of the Housecarls, both those of the Earl himself and of the King. The slaughter on the Scottish side was more fearful still. Dolfinn, seemingly a kinsman of the Earl of Orkney, was killed,[1087] and the Norman division, fighting no doubt with all the gallantry of their race, enhanced by all the desperation of exiles, were slaughtered to a man. We thus see that the battle was a most stoutly contested one, and that, as usual, the slaughter fell mainly on the best troops on both sides, the Normans on the Scottish side and the Housecarls on the English. But the fortune of England prevailed; the Scots, deprived of their valiant allies, were utterly routed, and King Macbeth escaped with difficulty from the field. The plunder was of an amount which struck the minds of contemporary writers with wonder.[1088]

Legends of Siward.

Siward was a hero whose history has had a mythical element about it from the beginning;[1089] it would have been wonderful indeed if this, the last and greatest exploit of so renowned a warrior, had not supplied the materials for song and legend. The tale is told how Siward, hearing of the death of his son, asked whether his wounds were in front or behind. Being told that all were in front, the old warrior rejoiced; he wished no other end for either his son or himself. The story is eminently characteristic; but, as it is told us, it is difficult to find a place for it in the authentic narrative of the campaign. But fiction has taken liberties with the facts of Siward’s Scottish campaign in far more important points. As we have seen, the English victory was complete, but Macbeth himself |Malcolm King of Scots. 1054.| escaped. Malcolm was, as King Eadward had commanded, proclaimed King of Scots, and a King of Scots who was put into possession of his Crown by an invading English force most undoubtedly held that Crown as the sworn |The war continued by Macbeth.| man of the English Basileus. It took however four years before Malcolm obtained full possession of his Kingdom. Macbeth and his followers maintained their cause in the North, being, it would seem, still supported by help from

Thorfinn. Malcolm, on the other hand, was still supported by help from England, and we shall find that he deemed it expedient to enter into a very close relation with Siward’s successor in the Northumbrian Earldom. At last |Macbeth finally defeated and slain. 1058.| Macbeth was finally defeated and slain at Lumfanan in Aberdeenshire. An attempt was made to perpetuate the Moray dynasty in the person of Lulach, a kinsman, or perhaps a stepson, of Macbeth, a son of his wife Gruach |Ephemeral reign of Lulach, and final establishment of Malcolm. 1058.| by a former marriage. But this prince, who bears the surname of the Fool, could not long resist the power of Malcolm; in a few months’ time he was hunted down and slain. The rival dynasty was now crushed; all Scotland came into the hands of Malcolm, who was solemnly crowned at Scone. The power of Thorfinn was broken no less than the power of Macbeth, and Malcolm apparently recovered the full possession of Cumberland, possibly on the death of Thorfinn, when Malcolm married his widow Ingebiorg, a marriage of whose results we shall hear again.

Erroneous belief that Macbeth was killed in Siward’s campaign.

These Scottish affairs had but little interest for our English writers, who were satisfied with recording the brilliant victory of Siward and the rich booty which he won, without going on to dwell on events which were almost purely Scottish. As their narrative ends with the defeat of Macbeth and Malcolm’s first proclamation as King, it naturally passed out of mind that that proclamation did not at once give him full possession of all Scotland. The two defeats of Macbeth were confounded together, and it was believed that the usurper met his death in the battle which he fought against Siward. The error began very early, and it obtained prevalence enough to become enshrined in the poetry which, far more than any historical record, has made the name of Macbeth immortal.

In the course of this year, seemingly at a Gemót held at Midsummer, possibly that in which the expedition |State of the succession. 1054.| against Macbeth was decreed,[1090] a most important step was taken with regard to the succession to the Crown. It was a step which proved altogether fruitless, but it is most important as showing what men’s feelings and wishes were at the time. It proves incontestably that now, two years after the return of Godwine, the idea of the succession of William had quite passed away, and that the idea of the succession of Harold had not yet occurred to men’s minds. The state of the royal house was such as to cause the deepest anxiety. The English people, though they cared little for any strict law of succession, still reverenced the blood of their ancient princes, and had ever been wont, save under the irresistible pressure of foreign conquest, to choose their Kings only from among the descendants of former Kings. But now the line of their former Kings seemed to be altogether dying out. Eadward was without children or hopes of children. There was no man in the land sprung from the male line of Æthelred and Eadgar. It is quite possible that there may have been men descended from earlier Kings; but, if so, they could only have been distant kinsmen, whose royal descent was well nigh forgotten, and who were no longer allowed to count as Æthelings. There was indeed a grandson of Æthelred dwelling in the Kingdom in the person of Ralph of Hereford. |Position of Ralph.| Ralph would very likely have been the successor to whom Eadward’s personal inclinations would have led him. He shared with William of Normandy the merit of being a stranger speaking the French tongue, and he had the advantage over William of being really a descendant of English royalty. And the tie which bound Ralph to Eadward was a very close one. Old Teutonic feelings held the son of a sister to be hardly less near and dear than a son of one’s own loins,[1091] and we have seen some indications that this feeling was not wholly forgotten in England in the eleventh century. The sister’s son of Brihtnoth and the sister’s son of Siward[1092] are mentioned in a special way among the chosen companions of their uncles, around whose banners they fought and died. Eadward, in his heart of hearts, would naturally fall back upon Ralph, his own nephew, the son of the daughter of Æthelred and Emma, as a candidate whom the English people might perhaps be persuaded to accept, when the cause of the Norman became hopeless after Godwine’s revolution. |No preference given by female descent.| But however sacred was the relation between a man and his sister’s son, it was not one which by the Law of England conferred any right to the royal succession. The preference attaching to kingly blood was confined to those who were of kingly blood by direct male descent; it does not appear that the son of a King’s daughter had any sort of claim in a royal election beyond any other man in the realm. And, as for Ralph himself, his foreign origin and his personal conduct were, either of them, quite enough to make him thoroughly distasteful to the English people. Men had had quite enough of him as Earl, and they certainly had no wish to have any further experience of him as King. In the present lack of heirs, men’s thoughts turned to a branch of the royal family whose very existence |The sons of Eadmund Ironside.| was perhaps well nigh forgotten. Seven and thirty years before, the infant sons of Eadmund Ironside, Eadmund and |1017.| Eadward, had found a shelter from the fears of Cnut under the protection of the sainted Hungarian King Stephen.[1093] |Eadward the Ætheling; his marriage and children.| Eadmund died, seemingly while still young. Eadward was still living. He had, seemingly through the influence of Stephen’s Queen Gisela, sister of the Emperor Henry the Second, obtained in marriage a lady of royal descent named Agatha, who seems most probably to have been a niece of the Hungarian Queen and of the sainted Emperor.[1094] This marriage would seem to show that, in those distant lands, Eadward was acknowledged as a prince, perhaps looked to as one who might some day reign in his native island. And the fact that the son of Eadward and Agatha bore the renowned English name of Eadgar, shows that the Ætheling himself cannot have wholly forgotten his native land. Yet, banished, as he was, in his cradle, he could have retained hardly anything of the feelings of an Englishman, and it is hardly possible that he could have spoken the English tongue. Eadward must have been even less of an Englishman than his royal namesake and uncle. Eadward the King had left England when he was many years older than Eadward the Ætheling, and he had lived in a land which had a much closer connexion with England. Still Normandy was dangerous, and Hungary was not. Whatever the Ætheling was, at least he was not a Frenchman; his connexions, though foreign, were in every way honourable and in no way formidable. Hungary was too distant a land to do England either good or harm, but the fame of the youngest Christian Kingdom, and of its renowned and sainted King, was doubtless great throughout Europe. And the connexion with the Imperial House, the distant kindred of the Ætheling’s children with the illustrious Cæsar, the friend and brother-in-law of King Eadward, was, of all foreign ties, that which it most became Englishmen to strengthen. In default therefore of any member of the royal house brought up and dwelling in the land, it was determined to recall the banished Ætheling with his wife and family.[1095] Besides his son Eadgar, he had two daughters, who bore the foreign names of Margaret and Christina. We shall hear of all |Eadgar.| three again. Eadgar lived to be in an especial manner the sport of fortune; a King twice chosen, but never crowned, the last male descendant of Cerdic dragged on a sluggish and contented life as the friend and pensioner |Margaret.| of Norman patrons. One of his sisters won a worthier fame. Margaret obtained the honours alike of royalty and of saintship; she became one of the brightest patterns of every virtue in her own time, and she became the source through which the blood and the rights of the Imperial House of Wessex have passed to the Angevin, the Scottish, and the German sovereigns of England.[1096]

It is impossible to doubt that the resolution to invite the Ætheling was regularly passed by the authority of the King and his Witan. No lighter authority could have justified such a step, or could have carried any weight with |The Ætheling invited to England: the invitation equivalent to succession to the Crown.| foreign courts. Such an invitation was equivalent to declaring the Ætheling to be successor to the Crown, so far as English Law allowed any man to be successor before the Crown was actually vacant. It is possible that, as in some other cases, an election before the vacancy may have been attempted;[1097] but it is perhaps more likely that all that was done was to guarantee to Eadward that same strong preference which naturally belonged only to a son of a reigning King. Such a preference, in favour of one who was the last remaining member of the royal family, would in practice hardly differ from an exclusive right. The resolution in short placed the Ætheling in the same position as if his father and not his uncle had been on the throne. His position would thus be the same as that of Eadwig and Eadgar during the reign of Eadred.[1098] But, when we consider what followed, it is important to remember that the preference which undoubtedly belonged to Eadward would not belong to his son. Eadward, though so long an exile, was an Englishman born, the son of a crowned King and his Lady.[1099] The young Eadgar was a native of a foreign land, and was not the son of |Import of the selection of Eadward.| royal parents. This quasi designation of Eadward to the Crown involves, as I before said, two things. It implies that the King had learned that the succession of William was a thing which he never could bring about.[1100] It implies also that neither Harold himself nor the English people had as yet formed any serious idea of the possible succession of one not of royal descent. Indeed one can hardly doubt that the resolution to send for the Ætheling, if it was not made at Harold’s own motion, must at any rate have had his full approval. No proposal could be more contrary to the wishes and interests of the Norman courtiers, who must either have unsuccessfully opposed it or else have found it their best wisdom to hold their peace. It was therefore, seemingly at the Whitsun Gemót, resolved to send an embassy to obtain the return of the Ætheling. And about the time that Earl Siward was warring in Scotland, the English ambassadors set forth on their errand.

Embassy to the Emperor Henry. July, 1054.

A direct communication with the court of Hungary seems to have been an achievement beyond the diplomatic powers of Englishmen in that age. The immediate commission of the embassy was addressed to the Emperor Henry, with a request that he would himself send a further |Ealdred and Ælfwine ambassadors.| embassy into Hungary. At the head of the English legation was the indefatigable Bishop Ealdred, and with him seems to have been coupled Abbot Ælfwine of Ramsey.[1101] Both these Prelates had already had some experience of foreign courts. Ealdred had gone on the King’s errand to the Apostolic throne,[1102] and Ælfwine had been one of the representatives of the English Church at the famous Council of Rheims.[1103] The Bishop of Worcester clearly reckoned on a long absence, and we get some details of the arrangements which he made for the discharge of his ecclesiastical duties during his absence. The Abbey of Winchcombe, which he had annexed to his Bishoprick the year before, he now resigned,[1104] and the general government of the see of Worcester he entrusted to a monk of Evesham named Æthelwig.[1105] The church of that famous monastery, raised by the skill of its Abbot Mannig,[1106] was now awaiting consecration. For that ceremony he deputed his neighbour Bishop Leofwine of Lichfield.[1107] He then set forth for the court of Augustus. The Emperor was then at Köln, on his return from the consecration of his young son Henry as West-Frankish or Roman King in the Great Charles’s minster at Aachen.[1108] The immediate tie between Eadward and Henry had been broken by the death of Queen Gunhild; the King who was now to be crowned was the child of Henry’s second wife, the Empress Agnes of Poitiers.[1109] But the interchange of gifts and honours between the Roman and the insular |Splendid reception given to Ealdred.| Basileus was none the less cordial and magnificent. English writers dwell with evident pleasure on the splendid reception which the English Bishop met with both from the Emperor and from Hermann, the Archbishop of the |His long stay at Köln. 1054–1055.| city where Ealdred had been presented to Henry.[1110] But the immediate business of his embassy advanced but slowly. The time was ill chosen for an Imperial intervention with the Hungarian court. Andrew, the reigning King of Hungary, was about this time abetting the rebellious Duke Conrad of Bavaria against the Emperor.[1111] We have no details of the further course of the negotiation. Ealdred abode a whole year at Köln, probably waiting for a favourable opportunity. His embassy was in the end successful; for the Ætheling did in the end return to England. But we have no further details, and Eadward did not return to England till long after Ealdred had gone back, and till at least a year after the death of the Emperor.

Death of Osgod Clapa. 1054.

The year of Ealdred’s mission was marked also by the sudden death of a somewhat remarkable person, namely Osgod Clapa, whose movements by sea had been watched with such care five years before.[1112] The Chronicler remarks, seemingly with some little astonishment, that he died in |Death of Earl Siward. 1055.| his bed.[1113] Early in the next year death carried off a far more famous man, no other than the great Earl of the Northumbrians.[1114] The victory of the last year, glorious as it was, had been bought by the bitterest domestic losses, which may not have been without their effect even on the iron spirit and frame of the old Earl. His nephew and his elder son had fallen in the war with Macbeth, and |His son Waltheof.| his only surviving son, afterwards the famous Waltheof, was still a child.[1115] Siward’s first wife Æthelflæd was dead, and he had in his old age married, and survived, a widow named Godgifu.[1116] We might have fancied that Waltheof was her son, but we know for certain that he was the son of the daughter of the old Northumbrian Earls, and that he unhappily inherited all the deadly feuds of his mother’s house.[1117] Siward died at York, the capital of his Earldom. |Story of Siward’s death.| A tale, characteristic at least, whether historically true or not, told how the stern Danish warrior, when he felt death approaching, deemed it a disgrace that he should die, not on the field of battle, but of disease, “like a cow.” If he could not actually die amid the clash of arms, he would at least die in warrior’s garb. He called for his armour, and, harnessed as if again to march against Macbeth, the stout |His foundation and burial at Galmanho.| Earl Siward breathed his last.[1118] But this fierce spirit was not inconsistent with the piety of the time. Saint Olaf, the martyred King of the Northmen, had by this time become a favourite object of reverence, especially among men of Scandinavian descent. In his honour Earl Siward had reared a church in a suburb of his capital called Galmanho,[1119] a church which, after the Norman Conquest, developed into that great Abbey of Saint Mary, whose ruins form the most truly beautiful ornament of the Northern metropolis. In his own church of Galmanho Siward the Strong, the true relic of old Scandinavian times, was buried with all honour.

The death of Siward led to most important political consequences. The direct authority of the House of Godwine was now, for the first time, extended to the land beyond the Humber. This fact marks very forcibly how fully the royal authority was now acknowledged throughout the whole realm. The King and his Witan could now venture to appoint as the successor of Siward an Earl who had absolutely no connexion with any of the great families of Northumberland. Cnut, in the moment of victory, had given the Northumbrians the Dane Eric as their Earl.[1120] But this was the act of a conqueror, and such was the strength of the Danish element in Northumberland that the appointment of a Dane from Denmark probably seemed less irksome than the appointment of an Englishman from any |Tostig appointed Earl of the Northumbrians. 1055.| other part of the Kingdom. This last was the act, one wholly without a parallel, on which Eadward now ventured. The vacant Earldom of Northumberland, including also the detached shires of Northampton and Huntingdon,[1121] was |Influences on behalf of Tostig.| conferred on Tostig the son of Godwine. The novelty of the step is perhaps marked by the elaborate description of the influences which were brought to bear on the mind of Eadward to induce him to make the appointment. We hear, not only of Tostig’s own merits, but of the influence employed by his many friends, especially by his sister the Lady Eadgyth and by his brother Earl Harold, whom Norman calumny has represented as depriving Tostig of his hereditary rights.[1122] We may suspect that we have here an account of influences which it was more necessary to bring to bear on the minds of the Witan than on that of the King.[1123] For there is no appointment of Eadward’s reign which is more likely to have been the King’s personal act. Tostig, rather than Harold, was Eadward’s personal |Eadward’s personal affection for Tostig.| favourite. He was the Hêphaistiôn, the friend of Eadward, while Harold was rather the Krateros, the friend of the King.[1124] He also stood higher in the good will of their common sister the Lady Eadgyth. Cut off in a great measure from his Norman favourites, the affections of Eadward had settled themselves on the third son of Godwine. He would therefore naturally desire to raise Tostig to the highest dignities in his gift, or, if he felt hesitation in doing so, it could only be from the wish to keep his favourite always about his own person. In fact we shall find that Eadward could not bring himself to give up the society of Tostig to the degree which the interests of his distant Earldom called for. And this frequent absence of the Earl from his government seems to have been among the causes of the misfortunes which afterwards followed.[1125]

Novelty of a West-Saxon Earl in Northumberland.

This appointment of a West-Saxon to the great Northern Earldom was, as I have already implied, a distinct novelty. Ever since Northumberland had ceased to be ruled by Kings of her own, she had been ruled by Earls chosen from among her own people. The ancient Kingdom had sometimes been placed under one, sometimes under two, chiefs; but they had always been native chiefs. The rule of the stranger Eric had been short, and he seems to have allowed the line of the ancient princes to retain at least a subordinate authority.[1126] Siward, a stranger by birth, was connected with the ancient family by marriage.[1127] And both Eric and Siward were Danes; Tostig came of a line which most probably sprang from the most purely Saxon part of England. The experiment was a hazardous one, yet it was one which was not only dictated by sound policy, but which circumstances made almost unavoidable. The |Mode of appointment to the great Earldoms.| great Earldoms, I may again repeat, were neither strictly hereditary nor strictly elective. They were in the gift of the King and his Witan, but there was always a strong tendency, just as in the case of the Kingdom itself, to choose out of the family of the deceased Earl, whenever |Impossibility of appointing a native Earl on the death of Siward.| there was no obvious reason to do otherwise. But on the death of Siward there was such an obvious reason to do otherwise, just as there was in the case of the Kingdom when it became vacant by the death of Eadward. The eldest son of Siward had fallen in the Scottish war, and the one survivor of his house was still a child.[1128] Oswulf, seemingly the only male representative of the ancient Earls,[1129] was probably still a mere boy.[1130] There was therefore no available candidate of the old princely line. And, when we think of the state of the country, of the deadly feuds and jealousies which prevailed even between the reigning Earls and other powerful men,[1131] we shall see that the nomination of any private Northumbrian would have been a still more hazardous experiment than the nomination of a stranger. The Northumbrians themselves seem to have felt this, when, ten years later, the choice of their Earl was thrown into their own hands. They then chose, |Doubtful policy of the appointment of Tostig.| not a Northumbrian, but a Mercian. But it may well be doubted whether it was good policy to appoint a West-Saxon, and especially a member of the House of Godwine. This was perhaps going too far in the way of reminding the proud Danes of the North of their subjection to the Southern King. It could not fail to suggest the idea of an intention to monopolize all honours and all authority in a single family. And, as events showed, the personal character of Tostig proved unfitted successfully to grapple with the difficult task which was now thrown upon him.

Character of Tostig.

In weighing the character of the third son of Godwine, we must be on our guard against several distinct sources of error. We are at first tempted to condemn without mercy one who became the antagonist of his nobler brother, who waged open war with his country, and whose invasion of England, by acting as a diversion in William’s favour, was one main cause of the success of William’s expedition. We read the account of his crimes as set forth by his Northumbrian enemies, and we think that no punishment could be too heavy for the man who wrought them. On the other hand, though Tostig, as an adversary of Harold, comes in for a certain slight amount of Norman favour, there was also a temptation, which for the most part was found irresistibly strong, to blacken both sons of the |Legends of Harold and Tostig.| Traitor equally. The opposition between Harold and Tostig during the last two years of their joint lives has thus supplied the materials for a heap of legends of revolting absurdity. The two brothers, who clearly acted together up to those two last years, are described as being full of the most bitter mutual rivalry and hatred, even from their childhood.[1132] The effect of these two different pictures is that both admirers and depreciators of Harold are alike led to look on the acts of Tostig in the most unfavourable light. The crimes of his later years cannot be denied. He died a traitor, in arms against his country, engaged in an act of treason compared to which Harold’s ravages at Porlock, and even Ælfgar’s alliance with Gruffydd, sink into insignificance. His Northumbrian government too was evidently stained with great errors, seemingly with great crimes. But it is remarkable that it is not till the last two years of his life that we hear of anything which puts him in an unfavourable light. And there is nothing in his few recorded earlier actions which is at all inconsistent with the generally high character |Witness of the Biographer of Eadward.| given of him by the biographer of Eadward. That writer compares him with Harold in an elaborate picture of the two which I have already made large use of in describing Harold. And it is clear that, whether from his own actual convictions or from a wish to please his patroness the Lady Eadgyth, it is Tostig rather than Harold whose partizan he is to be reckoned, and it is Tostig whose actions he is most anxious to put in a favourable light. But the two are the two noblest of mortals; no land, no age, ever brought forth two such men at the same time. He makes a comparison of virtues between the two, but he hardly ventures to make the balance decidedly weigh in |His description of Tostig.| favour of either. In person Tostig was of smaller stature than his elder brother, but in strength and daring he was his equal.[1133] But he seems to have lacked all Harold’s winning and popular qualities. He is set before us as a man of strong will, of stern and inflexible purpose, faithful to his promise, grave, reserved, admitting few or none to share his counsels, so that he often surprised men by the suddenness |His stern and unyielding character.| of his actions.[1134] His zeal against wrong-doers, the virtue of the ruler for which his father and brother are so loudly extolled, amounted in him to a passion which carried him beyond the bounds of justice and honour.[1135] The whole picture describes him as a man of honest and upright intentions, but of an unbending sternness which must have formed a marked contrast to the frank and conciliatory disposition of his brother. Such a man, placed as a ruler over a turbulent and refractory people, might, almost unconsciously, degenerate into a cruel tyrant. |Disturbed state of Northumberland.| Northumberland, we are told, was, at the time when he undertook its government, in a state to which it is impossible to believe that either Normandy or southern England afforded any likeness. Siward’s strong arm had done something to bring its turbulent inhabitants into order; yet thieves and murderers still had so completely the upper hand that travellers had to go in parties of |Tostig’s effort to restore order.| twenty and thirty, and even then were hardly safe.[1136] Tostig set himself vigorously, evidently too vigorously, to work to put an end to this state of things. His severity was merciless and impartial; death and mutilation were freely dispensed among all disturbers of public order. His efforts, we are told, were effectual; it is said, in a proverbial form of speech, that under his administration, any man could safely travel through the whole land with all his goods.[1137] Even powerful Thegns were not spared, and here comes the point in which Tostig most deeply erred. Putting our various accounts together, we shall find that, when offenders were too powerful to be reached by the arm of the law, Tostig did not scruple to rid the land of them |Explanation of his later crimes.| by treacherous assassination. We can well understand that a man of Tostig’s disposition, bent on bringing his province into order at any price, may have persuaded himself that the public good was superior to all other considerations, and may have blinded himself to the infamy of the means by which the public good was to be compassed. Very similar conduct in public men of our own day has been condoned by large bodies of men, and by some has even been warmly applauded. The unswerving dictate of justice is that he who, in any age, sheds blood without sentence of law, deserves the heaviest condemnation and the heaviest punishment. Still such conduct does not necessarily imply any original corruption of heart in the offender. Tostig richly deserved all that afterwards fell upon him. Like most sinners, he went on from bad to worse; but there is no reason to believe that he undertook the government of Northumberland with any less sincere intention of doing his duty there than Harold had when he undertook the government of Wessex. Tostig in the end became a great criminal; but he clearly was not a monster or a villain from the beginning of his career.

His personal favour with Eadward.

The strange thing is that a man of this disposition, whose virtues were all of the sterner sort, should have become a personal favourite with a feeble King like Eadward. One may perhaps explain it by the principle which often makes men, both in love and in friendship, prefer those who are most unlike themselves. A man like Eadward would cling to a man like Tostig as his natural protector, and, after all, weak as Eadward was, there were elements in his character to which the extreme severity of Tostig would not be unacceptable or even unlike. The King who had commanded Godwine to march against the untried citizens of Dover would not be likely to condemn the harshness of Tostig’s rule in |Tostig’s personal virtues.| Northumberland. And there were other points in Tostig’s character which would naturally and rightly commend him to the favour of the saintly King. Tostig, like William, practised some virtues which Harold neglected. While Harold’s affections seem to have dwelt wholly on an English mistress, Tostig set an example of strict fidelity to his foreign wife.[1138] The husband of Judith would thus on every ground be more acceptable to Eadward than the lover of Eadgyth. Tostig too was of a bountiful disposition, and Judith, who was a devout woman, directed a large share of his bounty to pious objects.[1139] Through all these causes Tostig easily won the highest place in the affection of his royal brother-in-law. With his sister the Lady he stood only too well. There is too much reason to fear that Eadgyth did not scruple to become something more than the accomplice of one of his worst deeds.[1140]

Such was the man to whom, probably at about the age of thirty-two,[1141] was entrusted the rule of the ancient realm beyond the Humber. The general picture of his government I have already given; but for nine years no domestic details are supplied. We shall find him, like his brother, making the fashionable pilgrimage to Rome, and aiding his brother in his wars with the Welsh. Notwithstanding Norman legends, there is, at this stage of their history, not the slightest sign of any dissension between them.

Tostig becomes the sworn brother of Malcolm. 1055–1061.

One fact however we learn quite incidentally which touches, not indeed the internal administration of his Earldom, but the measures taken at once for its external defence, and for the maintenance of the supremacy of the Imperial Crown over the great Northern dependency of England. At some time during the first six years of his government, Earl Tostig became the sworn brother of Malcolm, the restored King of Scots.[1142] This was a tie by which reconciled enemies often sought to bind one another to special friendship. It was the tie by which Cnut had been bound to Eadmund,[1143] and by which Tostig’s predecessor Ealdred had been bound to the faithless Carl.[1144] But there is nothing to show that the establishment of this tie between Tostig and Malcolm |Probable reference of the engagement to the war with Macbeth.| had been preceded by any hostilities between them. It is far more probable, considering the date of Tostig’s appointment to his Earldom, that the engagement took place early in Tostig’s government, and that it was made with a view to the joint prosecution of hostilities against a common enemy. When Tostig succeeded Siward, Malcolm was still struggling for his crown against Macbeth, and we cannot doubt that Tostig continued to support the man of King Eadward against the usurper.[1145] Then doubtless it was that the King of Scots and the Earl of the Northumbrians entered into this close mutual relation. But the tie of sworn brotherhood was one which was seldom found strong enough to bind the turbulent spirits of those times. It sat almost as lightly on the conscience of Malcolm as it had sat on the conscience of Carl. The engagement was observed as long as it happened to be convenient, and no longer. While Tostig was the guardian of the English border, Malcolm’s brotherhood with Tostig did not hinder him from violating the frontiers of Tostig’s Earldom. When Tostig was an exile in arms against his country, the tie was remembered, and it procured him a warm welcome at the Scottish Court.

Ælfgar banished. March 20, 1055.

The appointment of Tostig to the Earldom must have been made in the Gemót which was held in London in the Lent of this year.[1146] In the same Assembly, Ælfgar, Earl of the East-Angles, was banished. The accounts which we have of this transaction are not very intelligible. The fullest narrative that we have, that of the Chronicler who is most distinctly a partizan of Harold’s, tells us that he was charged with treason towards the King and all his people, and that he publicly confessed his guilt, though the confession escaped him unawares.[1147] The other accounts are satisfied with saying that he was guiltless or nearly guiltless.[1148] With such evidence as this, we are not in a position to determine on the guilt or innocence of Ælfgar. We do not even know what the treason was with which he was charged. But a charge to which the accused party, even in a moment of confusion, pleaded guilty, could hardly have been wholly frivolous on the part of the accuser. This point is important; for, though we have no direct statement who the accuser was, the probability is that a charge against one who stood so high in the rival family could have been brought only by Harold or by some one acting in his interest. At any rate, if Ælfgar was not a traitor before his condemnation, he became one speedily after it. In seeking a forcible restoration, he did but follow the least justifiable act in the career of his rival. But, if Harold had set a bad example, Ælfgar improved upon it. Harold had endeavoured to force his way into the country at the head of mercenaries hired in a foreign land. But he had not allied himself with the enemies of his country; he had not carried on a war against England in the interest of an ever restless foe of England. To this depth of infamy |Ælfgar hires ships in Ireland,| Ælfgar did not scruple to sink. He went over, as Harold had done, to Ireland, and gathered a force of eighteen ships, besides the one in which he had made his own voyage. These ships were doubtless manned by the Scandinavian settlers in that country.[1149] With this fleet he sailed to some haven in Wales, probably of North Wales, |and makes an alliance with Gruffydd.| where he met Gruffydd and made an alliance with him.[1150] The Welsh Prince was now at the height of his power. He had this very year overthrown and slain his South-Welsh rival, Gruffydd the son of Rhydderch.[1151] He seems now to have been master of the whole Cymrian territory, and, at the head of such a power, he was more dangerous, and probably more hostile, to England than ever. Nothing then could be more opportune for his purposes than the appearance of a banished English Earl at the head of a powerful force of Irish Danes. Ælfgar at once asked for Gruffydd’s help in a war to be waged against King Eadward.[1152] The plan of a campaign was speedily settled. Gruffydd summoned the whole force of the Cymry[1153] for a great expedition against the Saxons. Ælfgar, with his Irish or Danish following, was to meet the Welsh King at some point which is not mentioned, and the combined host was to march on a devastating inroad into Herefordshire. The plan was successfully carried out, and the forces of Gruffydd and Ælfgar entered the southern part of the shire, the district known as Archenfeld, and |Gruffydd and Ælfgar ravage Herefordshire,| there harried the country. The border land which they entered was one bound to special service against British enemies. The Priests of the district had the duty of carrying the King’s messages into Wales; its militia claimed the right, in any expedition against the same enemy, to form the van in the march and the rear in the retreat.[1154] To ravage this warlike district was no doubt a special object with the Welsh King, one which would be carried out with special delight. He did his work effectually. The effects of the harrying under Gruffydd were still to be seen at the time of the Norman survey.[1155]

The work of destruction thus begun seems to have been carried on by Gruffydd and his allies without opposition, till they came within two miles of the city of Hereford.[1156] |and meet Earl Ralph near Hereford. October 24, 1055.| There they were at last met by a large force under Ralph, the Earl of the country, consisting partly of the levies of the district, and partly of his own French and Norman following. Richard the son of Scrob, it will be remembered, was among the Normans who had been allowed to remain in England,[1157] and no doubt the forces of Richard’s Castle swelled the army of Ralph. The timid Earl[1158] thought himself called upon to be a military reformer. The English, light-armed and heavy-armed alike, were |Ralph requires the English to fight on horseback.| always accustomed to fight on foot. The Housecarl, the professional soldier, with his coat of mail and his battle-axe, and the churl who hastened to defend his field with nothing but his javelin and his leathern jerkin, alike looked on the horse only as a means to convey the warrior to and from the field of battle. The introduction of cavalry into the English armies might perhaps have been an improvement, but it was an improvement which could not be carried into effect with a sudden levy within sight of the enemy. But Ralph despised the English tactics, and would have his army arrayed according to the best and newest continental models. A French prince could not condescend to command a host who walked into action on their own feet, according to the barbarous English fashion. The men of Herefordshire were therefore required to meet the harassing attacks of the nimble Welsh, and the more fearful onslaught of Ælfgar’s Danes, while still |The battle is therefore lost.| mounted on their horses. The natural consequences followed; before a spear was hurled, the English took to flight.[1159] Nothing else could have been reasonably looked for; however strong may have been the hearts of their riders, horses which had not gone through the necessary training would naturally turn tail at the unaccustomed sights and sounds of an army in battle array.[1160] But in one account we find a statement which is far stranger and more disgraceful. If Ralph required his men to practise an unusual and foreign tactic, he and his immediate companions should at least have shown them in their own persons an example of its skilful and valiant carrying out. But we are told that Ralph, with his French and Normans, were the first to fly, and that the English in their flight did but follow the example of their leader.[1161] I suspect some exaggeration here. Whatever may have been the case with the timid Earl himself, mere cowardice was certainly not a common Norman, or even French, failing. For a party of French knights to take to flight on the field of battle without exchanging a single spear-thrust, is something almost unheard of. It is far more likely that we have here a little perversion arising from national dislike. It is far more likely that, whatever Ralph himself may have done, the Normans in his company were simply carried away by the inevitable, and therefore in no way disgraceful, flight of the English. Anyhow, the battle, before it had begun, was changed into a rout. The enemy pursued. The light-armed and nimble Welsh were probably well able to overtake the clumsily mounted English. Four or five hundred were killed, and many more wounded. On the side of Ælfgar and Gruffydd we are told that not a man was lost.[1162]

Ælfgar and Gruffydd sack and burn Hereford.

The Welsh King and the English Earl entered Hereford the same day[1163] without resistance. The chief object of their wrath seems to have been the cathedral church of the |Story of Æthelberht of East-Anglia. 792.| diocese, the minster of Saint Æthelberht. The holy King of the East-Angles, betrothed to the daughter of the famous Offa, had come to seek his bride at her father’s court. He was there murdered by the intrigues of Cynethryth, the wife of the Mercian King.[1164] He became the local saint of Hereford, and the minster of the city boasted |Æthelstan, Bishop of Hereford. 1012–1056.| of his relics as its choicest treasure. That church was now ruled by Æthelstan, an aged Prelate, who had already sat for forty-three years.[1165] But, for the last twelve years, blindness had caused him to retire from the active government of his diocese, which was administered by a Welsh Bishop named Tremerin.[1166] Æthelstan is spoken of as a man of eminent holiness, and he had, doubtless in his more active days, rebuilt the minster of Saint Æthelberht, and enriched it with many ornaments. The invaders attacked the church with the fury of heathens; indeed among the followers of Ælfgar there may still have been votaries of Thor and Odin. Seven of the Canons attempted to defend the great door of the church, but they were cut down without mercy.[1167] The church was burned, and all its relics and ornaments were lost. Of the citizens many were slain, and others were led into captivity.[1168] The whole town was sacked and set fire to, and the Welsh account specially adds that Gruffydd destroyed the fort or citadel.[1169] The history which follows seems to imply that the town itself was not fortified, but merely protected by this fortress. At its date or character we can only guess. Hereford is not spoken of among the fortresses raised by Eadward the Elder and his sister Æthelflæd. It is an obvious conjecture that the fortress destroyed by Gruffydd was a Norman castle raised by Ralph. A chief who was so anxious to make his people conform to Norman ways of fighting would hardly linger behind his neighbour at Richard’s Castle, in at once providing himself with a dwelling-place, and his capital with a defence, according to the latest continental patterns. If so, we may easily form a picture of the Hereford of those days. By the banks of the Wye rose the minster, low and massive, but crowned by one or more of those tall slender towers, in which the rude art of English masons strove to reproduce the campaniles of Northern Italy. Around the church were gathered the houses of the Bishop, the Canons, the citizens, the last at least mainly of wood. Over all rose the square mass of the Norman donjon, an ominous presage of the days which were soon to come. All, church, castle, houses, fell before the wasting arms of Ælfgar and Gruffydd. They went away rejoicing in their victory and in the rich booty which |Deaths of Tremerin, 1055, and Æthelstan, February 10, 1056.| they carried. The blow seems to have broken the hearts of the two Prelates whose flock suffered so terribly. Tremerin died before the end of the year, and Æthelstan early in the year following.[1170]

King Eadward was now in his usual winter-quarters at Gloucester. Either the time of the Christmas Gemót was hastened, or the King, in such an emergency, acted on his own responsibility. The defence of the country and the chastisement of the rebels could no longer be left in the hands of his incapable nephew. The occasion called for the wisest head and the strongest arm in the whole realm. |Harold sent against the Welsh.| Though his own government had not been touched, the Earl of the West-Saxons was bidden to gather a force from all England, and to attack the Welsh in their own land. It is not unlikely that his brother was, as in a later war with the same enemy, summoned from Northumberland to his help.[1171] Late as was the season of the year, |Comparison of his earlier and later Welsh campaigns.| Harold did not shrink from the task.[1172] This seems to have been his first experience of Welsh warfare, and we do not know whether he now adopted those special means of adapting his operations to the peculiar nature of the country, |1063.| which he tried so successfully in his later and more famous campaign. He then, as we shall see, caused his soldiers to adopt the light arms and loose array of the Welsh, and so proved more than a match for them at their own weapons. The story seems rather to imply that he did not do so on this occasion, and that the later stroke of his genius was the result of the lessons which he now learned. In neither case did a Welsh enemy dare to meet Harold in a pitched battle, but there is a marked difference between the two campaigns; in the earlier one, the Welsh successfully escaped Harold’s pursuit, while, in the later one, they were unable to do so. Harold gathered his army at Gloucester; he passed the Welsh border, and pitched his camp beyond the border district of Straddele.[1173] But the main point is that Gruffydd and Ælfgar, who had marched so boldly to the conflict with Ralph, altogether shrank from giving battle to Harold. They escaped into South Wales. Harold, finding it vain to pursue such an enemy, desisted from the attempt. He dismissed the greater part of his army, that is probably the militia of the shires, merely bidding them keep themselves in readiness to withstand the enemy in case of |Harold fortifies Hereford.| any sudden inroad.[1174] With the rest of his troops, that is probably with his own following, he proceeded to take measures for securing the important post of Hereford against future attacks. The castle had been levelled with the ground, the church was a ruin, the houses of the townsmen were burned. Harold set himself to repair the mischief, but his notions of defending a city were different from those of the Frenchman Ralph. The first object of the English Earl was to secure the town itself, not to provide a stronghold for its governor. It does not appear that he rebuilt the castle, but he at once supplied the city itself with the requisite defences. So important a border town was no longer to be left open to the incursions of every enemy or rebel. As a military measure, to meet a temporary emergency, he surrounded the town with a ditch and a strong wall. This wall, in its first estate, though strengthened by gates and bars, seems to have been itself merely a dyke of earth and rough stones. But, before the reign of Eadward was ended, Harold, then Earl of the shire, followed the example of Eadward at Towcester and Æthelstan at Exeter, and surrounded the town with a wall of masonry.[1175] The wooden houses of the citizens could soon be rebuilt. Hereford was soon again peopled with burghers, both within and without the wall, some of them the men of the King and others the men of Earl Harold.[1176] The minster had been burned, but we must remember how laxly that word is often taken. All its woodwork, all its fittings and ornaments, were of course destroyed, the walls would be blackened and damaged, but it was capable of at least temporary repair, as Bishop Æthelstan was buried in it next year.[1177] Under the care of Earl Harold, Hereford was again a city.

Peace of Billingsley. 1055.

Meanwhile Ælfgar and Gruffydd sued for peace. Messages went to and fro, and at last a conference was held between them and Harold at Billingsley in Shropshire, a little west of the Severn. Harold was never disposed to press hardly on an enemy, and he may possibly have felt that he was himself in some sort the cause of all that had happened, if he had promoted any ill-considered charges |General mildness of English political warfare.| against his rival. In fact, rude and ferocious as those times were in many ways, the struggles of English political life were then carried on with much greater mildness than they were in many later generations. Blood was often lightly shed, but it was hardly ever shed by way of judicial sentence. A victorious party never sent the vanquished leaders either to a scaffold or to a dungeon. Banishment was the invariable sentence, and banishment in those days commonly supplied the means of return. Thus when Gruffydd and Ælfgar sought for peace, it was easily granted to them; Ælfgar was even restored to the Earldom which he had forfeited. It was probably thought that he was less dangerous as Earl of the East-Angles, than as a banished man who could at any time cause an invasion of the country from Wales or Ireland. His fleet sailed to Chester, and there awaited the pay which he had promised the crews.[1178] Whether the payment was defrayed out of the spoils of |Ælfgar restored to his Earldom. Christmas, 1055–1056.| Herefordshire we are not told. Ælfgar now came to the King, and was formally restored to his dignity.[1179] This was done in the Christmas Gemót, in which we may suppose that the terms of the peace of Billingsley were formally confirmed.

Invasion of England by Gruffydd and Magnus. 1056.

Peace with Gruffydd was easily decreed in words, but it was not so easily carried out in act. The restless Briton eagerly caught at any opportunity of carrying his ravages beyond the Saxon border. The Welsh Annals here fill up a gap in our own, and make the story more intelligible. With the help of a Scandinavian chief whom it is not easy to identify, but who is described as Magnus the son of Harold,[1180] Gruffydd make a new incursion into Herefordshire. We may well believe that the restoration and fortification of Hereford was felt as a thorn in his side. This time the defence of the city and shire was not left in the hands of any Earl, fearful or daring, but fell to one of the |Death of Bishop Æthelstan. February 10, 1056.| warlike Prelates in whom that age was so fertile. Bishop Æthelstan, as I have already said, died early in the year at Bosbury, an episcopal lordship lying under the western slope of the Malvern Hills.[1181] His burial in Saint Æthelberht’s minster must have been the first great public ceremony in the restored city. In the choice of a successor, Eadward, or rather Harold, was actuated at least as much |Leofgar, Bishop of Hereford. March 27, 1056.| by military as by ecclesiastical considerations. The see of the venerable and pious Æthelstan was filled by a Prelate of whom, during a very short career, we hear only in the character of a warrior. This was Leofgar, a chaplain of the Earl’s, whose warlike doings seem to have been commemorated in popular ballads. He laid aside his chrism and his rood, his ghostly weapons, and took to his spear and his sword and went forth to the war against Gruffydd the Welsh King.[1182] But the warfare of this valiant churchman |His death in battle. June 16, 1056.| was unfortunate. He had not been three months a Bishop before he was killed, and with him his priests, as also Ælfnoth the Sheriff[1183] and many other good men. The Chronicler goes on to complain bitterly of the heavy grievances attending on a Welsh war. It is clear that the way had not yet been found out how really to quell the active sons of the mountains, when their spirits were thoroughly aroused by an able and enterprising prince like Gruffydd. The complaint does not dwell on losses in actual fight, which were probably comparatively |Character of the war with Gruffydd.| small. The Welsh would seldom venture on an actual battle with the English, even when commanded by captains very inferior to Harold. They would not run such a risk, except when they were either supported by Scandinavian allies, or else when they were able to take the Saxons at some disadvantage. What the Chronicler paints is the wearing, cheerless, bootless kind of warfare which is carried on with a restless enemy who can never be brought to a regular battle. It is not ill success in fighting that he speaks of, but the wretchedness of endless marching and encamping, and the loss of men and horses, evidently by weariness rather than by the sword.[1184] The wisest heads in the nation agreed that a stop must, at any cost, be put |Ealdred holds the see of Hereford with that of Worcester.| to this state of things. On the death of Leofgar, the see of Hereford was committed to Bishop Ealdred, whose energy seems to have shrunk from no amount of burthens, ecclesiastical, military, or civil.[1185] By the counsel of this Prelate, and of the Earls Leofric and Harold, the Welsh |Gruffydd reconciled to Eadward. 1056.| King was reconciled to his English overlord.[1186] This expression may be only a decorous way of attributing to the King personally a measure which was really the act of the three able statesmen who are represented as intervening between him and his dangerous vassal. But Eadward did sometimes exert a will of his own, and when he did so, his will was often in favour of more violent courses than seemed wise or just in the eyes of his counsellors. It is quite possible then that Eadward was, as he well might be, strongly incensed against Gruffydd, and that it needed all the arguments of Leofric and Harold, and of Ealdred so renowned as a peacemaker,[1187] to persuade the King to come to any terms with one so stained with treason and sacrilege. And undoubtedly, at this distance of time, there does seem somewhat of national humiliation in the notion of making peace with Gruffydd, after so many invasions and so many breaches of faith, on any terms but those of his complete |His oath of homage.| submission. We must take the names of Harold, Leofric, and Ealdred as a guaranty that such a course was necessary. Gruffydd did indeed so far humble himself as to swear to be for the future a faithful under-King to Eadward.[1188] It would also seem that the rebellious vassal was |He loses his lands in Cheshire.| mulcted of a small portion of his territories. Eadward had, at some earlier time, granted to Gruffydd certain lands, seemingly that portion of the present shire of Chester which lies west of the Dee. These lands were now forfeited, and restored to the see of Lichfield and other English possessors from whom they had been originally taken.[1189] We know not whether the grant was an original act of Eadward, or whether it was a convenient legal confirmation of some irregular seizure made by the Welsh King. Gruffydd was perhaps bought off in this way after some of his former incursions, most likely at |1046.| the moment of his temporary cooperation with Swegen.[1190] If so, the restoration of the alienated lands was now required as a condition of peace. This homage of Gruffydd, and this surrender of lands, remind us of the homage |1277.| and surrender made, under the like circumstances, by the last successor of Gruffydd to a greater Edward.[1191] As for the Welsh King’s oath, it was kept after the usual fashion, that is, till another favourable opportunity occurred for breaking it.

Cooperation of Harold, Leofric, and Ealdred.

One other point may be noted in connexion with this last transaction. That is the way in which Harold, Leofric, and Ealdred are described as acting together. If this implies no further cooperation, it at least implies that these three took the same side in a debate in the Witenagemót. Yet Leofric was the father of Harold’s rival Ælfgar, and the last time that the names of Harold and Ealdred were coupled was when Ealdred was sent to |1051.| follow after Harold on his journey to Bristol. But now all these old grudges seem to have been forgotten. In fact not one of the three men was likely to prolong a grudge needlessly. Harold’s policy was always a policy of conciliation; if—what we can by no means affirm—his conduct with regard to the outlawry of Ælfgar was at all of another character, it was the last example in his history. Ealdred was emphatically the peacemaker. He had no doubt long ago made his own peace with Harold, and he had probably used his influence to reconcile him with any with whom reconciliation was still needful. Leofric had often been opposed to Godwine, and must have looked with uncomfortable feelings on his wonderful rise. But he had never been a bitter or violent enemy; we have always found him playing the part of a mediator between extreme parties. There is no trace of any personal quarrel between him and Harold. He may have thought himself wronged in the outlawry of his son; but he could not fail to condemn Ælfgar’s later conduct and to approve that of Harold. He must have admired Harold’s energetic carriage in the Welsh campaign and in the restoration of Hereford. And Leofric doubtless felt, whether Ælfgar felt or not, some gratitude to Harold for his conciliatory behaviour at Billingsley, and for the restoration of Ælfgar to his Earldom. All that we know of the good old Earl of the Mercians leads us to look on him as a man who was quite capable of sacrificing the interests and passions of himself or his family to the general welfare of his country.

§ 3. From Harold’s first Campaign against Gruffydd to the Deaths of Leofric and Ralph. 1055–1057.

Hermann, Bishop of Ramsbury, seeks to obtain the Abbey of Malmesbury. 1055.

A few detached ecclesiastical events must be mentioned as happening in the course of these two years of war with Gruffydd. The see of Wiltshire or Ramsbury[1192] was, it will be remembered, now held by Hermann, one of the Lotharingian Prelates who were favoured by Godwine and Harold as a sort of middle term between Englishmen and Frenchmen.[1193] This preferment was not, at least in Hermann’s eyes, a very desirable one. The church of Ramsbury, unlike other cathedral churches, seems not to have been furnished with any company of either monks or canons,[1194] and the Bishop therefore found himself somewhat solitary. The revenues also of the see were small, an evil which seems to have pressed more heavily on a stranger than it would have done on a native. Other Bishops of Ramsbury, Hermann said, had been natives of the country, and the poverty of their ecclesiastical income had been eked out by the bounty of English friends and kinsfolk. He, a stranger, had no means of support to look to except the insufficient revenues of his Bishoprick.[1195] He had, it appears, been long looking forward to annexing, after the manner of the time, a second Bishoprick to his own. As Leofric had united Crediton and Saint German’s, Hermann hoped to unite Ramsbury and Sherborne, whenever a vacancy should occur in the latter see. Hermann, as the mission with which he had been entrusted shows,[1196] stood high in royal favour, and the Lady Eadgyth had long before promised to use her influence on his behalf, whenever the wished for opportunity should occur.[1197] But another means of increasing the episcopal wealth of Ramsbury now presented itself. The Abbot of Malmesbury was dead. Though the monasteries had not yet reached their full measure of exemption from episcopal control, we may be sure that the Bishops had already begun to look with jealousy on those heads of great monastic houses who had gradually grown up into rival Prelates within their own dioceses. Hermann at Ramsbury felt towards the Abbey of Malmesbury, as in after days his countryman Savaric at Wells felt towards the Abbey of Glastonbury.[1198] Here was a good opportunity at once for raising his Bishoprick to a proper standard of temporal income and for getting rid of a rival who was doubtless a thorn in his side. He would forsake Ramsbury, with its poor income and lack of clerks, and fix his episcopal throne in the rich and famous minster which boasted of the burying-place of Æthelstan.[1199] He laid his scheme before the King, who approved of it; he went away from the royal presence already in expectation Bishop of Malmesbury. But two parties interested in the matter had not been consulted, the monks of Malmesbury and the Earl of the West-Saxons. The monks were certain to feel |Relation of Bishops and Monks.| the utmost repugnance to any such union. They might reasonably fear that the Lotharingian Prelate might seek to reconstruct the foundation of his newly made cathedral church according to the canonical pattern of his own country. The rule of Chrodegang, which, to the Canons of Wells and Exeter,[1200] seemed to be an insufferable approach to monastic austerity, would seem to the monks of Malmesbury to be a no less insufferable approach to secular laxity. Or, even if the Bishop allowed the church to retain its ancient monastic constitution, the monks would have no desire for any such close connexion with the Bishoprick. They doubtless, as the monks of Glastonbury did afterwards, greatly preferred a separate Abbot of their own. The monks of Malmesbury therefore betook themselves to the common helper of the oppressed, and laid their grievances at the feet of Earl Harold.[1201] As the natural protector of all men, monks and otherwise, within his Earldom, Harold pleaded their cause before the King. Within three days after the original concession to Hermann,[1202] before any formal step had been taken to put him in possession of the Abbey,[1203] the grant was revoked, and the church of Malmesbury was allowed to retain its ancient constitution.[1204]

Manifest action of the Witan.

The speed with which this business was dispatched shows that it must have been transacted at a meeting of the Witan held at no great distance from Malmesbury. Such a change as the transfer of a Bishop’s see from one church to another could certainly not have been made or contemplated without the consent of the Witan. And for the monks to hear the news, to debate, to obtain Harold’s help, and for Harold to plead for them, within three days, shows that the whole took place while the Witan were actually in session. Of the places where Gemóts were usually held the nearest to Malmesbury is Gloucester, the usual scene of the Christmas Assembly. The monks, or enough of them to act in the name of the house, may perhaps themselves have been present there, and may have determined on their course without going home to Malmesbury. But the distance between Malmesbury and Gloucester is not too great to have allowed the business, in a moment of such emergency, to have been discussed within the three days, both in the Gemót at Gloucester and in the chapter-house at Malmesbury. One can hardly |Christmas, 1055.| doubt that this affair took place in the Christmas Gemót in which the Peace of Billingsley was confirmed and Ælfgar reinstated in his Earldom.

Harold’s action in the matter.

The part played by Harold in this matter should also be noticed. Harold was no special lover of monks; the chief objects of his own more discerning bounty were the secular clergy. But he was no enemy to the monastic orders; he had, as we have seen in more than one case, approved and suggested the favours shown to them by others; he had even, once at least, appeared as a monastic benefactor himself.[1205] And, at any rate, monks or no monks, the brethren of Malmesbury were a society of Englishmen, who were threatened with the violation of an ancient right through what clearly was a piece of somewhat hasty legislation. To step in on their behalf was an act in no way unworthy of the great Earl, and it was quite in harmony with his usual moderate and conciliatory policy.

Hermann becomes a monk at Saint Omer.

The remainder of the story is curious. Hermann, displeased at being thus balked when he thought himself so near success, gave up, or at least forsook, his Bishoprick, crossed the sea, and assumed the monastic habit in the Abbey of Saint Bertin at Saint Omer.[1206] But the fire so suddenly kindled soon burned out; Hermann chafed under the fetters of monastic discipline, and wished to be again in the world.[1207] After three years, his earlier scheme once more presented itself to his mind, when the see of Sherborne became vacant by the death of Bishop Ælfwold. He returned to England, he pleaded his cause with the King, and found |Hermann returns and unites Ramsbury and Sherborne. 1058.| no opposition from the Earl.[1208] No appointment to Ramsbury had been made during Hermann’s absence; the administration of the diocese was entrusted to the indefatigable Bishop Ealdred, who thus had the care of three dioceses, Worcester, Hereford, and Ramsbury.[1209] Perhaps Hermann was looked on as still being Bishop, and the promise of the Lady with regard to the union of the sees of Ramsbury and Sherborne was held to be still binding. At all events, on Hermann’s return, Ealdred gave up Ramsbury, and Hermann became Bishop of the united Sees. He held |Died 1078.| them for twenty years longer; he survived the Conquest twelve years,[1210] and he lived to merge the old diocesan names of Ramsbuiy and Sherborne in one drawn from an altogether new seat of episcopal authority, the waterless hill of the elder Salisbury.[1211]

Death of Earl Odda. August 31, 1056.

The year of Bishop Leofgar’s unlucky attempt to win fame as a warrior was marked by the death of Earl Odda, the King’s kinsman. He had been set over the western parts of Godwine’s Earldom during the year of his banishment,[1212] and since his return he had probably held, under the superiority of Leofric, the Earldom of the whole or part of the old land of the Hwiccas.[1213] His unpatriotic conduct in those times seems, even in the eyes of our most patriotic chroniclers, to have been fully atoned for by his personal virtues and by the favour which he showed to monasteries. He is accordingly sent out of the world with a splendid panegyric.[1214] Before his death he was admitted a monk by his diocesan Ealdred,[1215] who might thus, by bringing so goodly a sheep into the monastic fold, atone for having himself forsaken the cloister for the cares of government and warfare. He died at Deerhurst, under the shadow of the minster of his own building, but his own burial-place was at Pershore,[1216] another of the many Abbeys of a land which, next to the eastern fens, was the richest |Æthelric, Bishop of Durham 1042–1056, resigns his see.| district of England in monasteries of early date. In the course of the same year, Æthelric, Bishop of Durham, the successor of the simoniacal Eadred,[1217] resigned his see and became again a monk at Peterborough, in which |[Dies Oct. 15, 1072.]| monastery he had spent his youth.[1218] He was, through the influence of Tostig,[1219] succeeded in his Bishoprick by his brother alike in the flesh and in monastic profession, |Æthelwine succeeds. 1056–1071.| Æthelwine, another monk of the Golden Borough.[1220] Both brothers survived the Norman Conquest, and we shall see each of them, alike on the throne of Durham and in the cloister of Peterborough, become victims of the watchful jealousy of the Norman Conqueror.

Eadward Ætheling arrives from Hungary. 1057.

The next year is conspicuously a year of deaths, and a year of deaths which affected the state of England far more sensibly than the deaths of Earl Odda and Bishop Æthelric. The first recorded event of the year is the arrival of the Ætheling Eadward from Hungary.[1221] The mission of Ealdred had not failed through the death of |[Death of the Emperor Henry. 1056.]| the great prince to whom he was sent,[1222] and, three years after the reception of the English Bishop at Köln, the English Ætheling, if English we may call him, set foot on the shores from which he had been sent into banishment as a helpless babe.[1223] He now, at the age of forty-one, came for the first time to his native country, and he came in a character as nearly approaching to that of heir presumptive to the English Crown as the laws of our |Prospects of his succession to the Crown.| elective monarchy allowed. He came with his foreign wife and his children of foreign birth. And it can hardly fail but that he was himself, in speech and habits, as foreign as the Norman favourites of Eadward, more foreign than the men of kindred tongue whom Godwine and Harold were glad to encourage in opposition to them.[1224] The succession of such a prince, even less of an Englishman than the reigning King, promised but little good to the Kingdom. Still the succession of the Ætheling would have had one great advantage. It was hardly possible that the claims of William could be successfully pressed against him. A supposed promise of King Eadward in William’s favour could hardly be maintained in the teeth of a bequest and an election in favour of an Englishman of royal birth and mature years, against whom William could have no personal complaint whatever. Incomparably inferior as Eadward doubtless was to Harold in every personal qualification, his succession could never have given William the opportunities which were afterwards given him by the accession of Harold. Eadward could not have been held up as an usurper, a perjurer, a man faithless to his lord, nor, had he been the opponent, could the superstitions of the time have been appealed to to avenge the fancied insult offered to the relics of the Norman saints. We can thus fully understand why an English poet, clearly writing by the light of later experience, laments the death of the Ætheling as the cause of all the woes which came upon this poor nation.[1225] Even at the time, when men’s eyes were not yet so fully opened, we may be sure that England rejoiced in his coming, and bitterly lamented his speedy removal. The son of the hero Ironside, the last adult male of the royal line, must, whatever were his personal qualities, have attracted to himself an interest which was not purely sentimental.

Death of the Ætheling Eadward. 1057.

The Ætheling then came to England; but he never saw his namesake the King. He died almost immediately afterwards in London,[1226] and was buried with his grandfather Æthelred in Saint Paul’s minster. Why he was shut out from the royal presence was unknown then as well as now.[1227] |His exclusion from the royal presence,| The fact that his exclusion was commented on at the time might seem to forbid, and yet perhaps it does not wholly forbid, the simplest explanation of all, that he was ill at the time of his landing, and that the illness which caused his death also hindered his presentation to his uncle. If the exclusion had a political object, to what party ought |not likely to be due to Harold,| we to attribute it? A distinguished modern writer attributes it, though not very confidently, to the partizans of Harold.[1228] But it is not at all clear that Harold as yet aspired to the throne; it is far more probable that it was the death of the last adult Ætheling which first suggested to Harold and his friends the possibility of the succession of a King not of the royal house. Because Harold did in the end succeed Eadward, we must beware of supposing that his succession had been looked forward to during the whole reign of Eadward. There must have been some moment when the daring thought—for a daring thought it was—of aspiring to a royal crown first presented itself to the mind of Harold or of those to whom Harold hearkened. And no moment seems so clearly marked out for that purpose by all the circumstances of the case as the moment of the death of the Ætheling. If Harold had wished to thwart a design of King Eadward’s in favour of his nephew, he would hardly have waited for his landing in England to practise his devices. He would rather have laboured to hinder Ealdred’s mission in the first instance, or to render it abortive, in some way or other, during the long period over which the negotiation |but rather to the Norman courtiers,| was spread. If the exclusion of the Ætheling from his uncle’s presence was really owing to the machinations of any political party, there is another party on which the charge may fall with far greater probability. There was another possible successor who had far more to fear from the good will of the King towards the Ætheling than Harold had. Whether Harold had begun to aspire to the Crown or not, there can be little doubt that William had, and William was still by no means without influence at the English Court. There were still Normans about Eadward, Bishop William of London, Robert the son of Wymarc, Hugolin the Treasurer, and others whom Godwine or Harold had, perhaps unwisely, exempted from the general proscription. To exclude—by some underhand means, if at all—a prince of the blood from the presence of his uncle and sovereign, sounds much more like the act of a party of this kind, than the act of a man whom both office and character made the first man in the realm. The thing, if done at all, was clearly some wretched court intrigue, the fitting work of a foreign faction. The Earl of the West-Saxons, had his interests been concerned in the matter, would have set about hindering |but, more probably than either, the result of illness.| the Ætheling’s succession in quite another way. But after all, it is far more likely that the fact that the two Eadwards never met was not owing either to the partizans of Harold or to the partizans of William, but that it was simply the natural result of the illness of which the Ætheling presently died.

Surmise of Sir F. Palgrave that Harold caused the death of the Ætheling.

Another, and a far worse, insinuation against the great Earl hardly needs to be refuted. Among all the calumnies with which, for eight hundred years, the name of Harold has been loaded, there is one whose suggestion has been reserved for our own times. Norman enemies have distorted every action of his life; they have misrepresented every circumstance of his position; they have charged him with crimes which he never committed; they have looked at all his acts through such a mist of prejudice that the victory of Stamfordbridge is changed under their hands into a wicked fratricide.[1229] But no writer of his own time, or of any time before our own, has ever ventured to insinuate that Earl Harold had a hand in the death of the Ætheling Eadward. That uncharitable surmise was reserved for an illustrious writer of our own time, in whom depreciation of the whole House of Godwine had become a sort of passion.[1230] It is enough to say that, has there been the faintest ground for such an accusation, had the idea ever entered into the mind of any man of Harold’s own age,[1231] some Norman slanderer or other would have been delighted to seize upon it.[1232] Nothing is more easy than to charge any man with having secretly made away with another man by whose death he profits, and the charge is one which, as it is easy to bring, is sometimes very hard to disprove. For that very reason, it is a charge on which the historian always looks with great suspicion, even when it is known to have been brought at the time and to have been currently believed at the time. The general infamy of Eadric is fully established, but we need not believe in every one of the secret murders which rumour charged him with having committed or instigated. Still less need we believe the tales which charge the Great William with having more than once stooped to the trade of a secret poisoner.[1233] When we think how easy the charge is to bring, and how recklessly it has been brought at all times, the mere fact that no such charge was ever brought against Harold does in truth redound greatly to his honour. Calumny itself instinctively shrank from laying such a crime to the charge of such a man. William was, as I believe, as guiltless of any such baseness as Harold himself. But the charge did not seem wholly inconsistent with the crafty and tortuous policy of the Norman Duke. The West-Saxon Earl, ambitious no doubt and impetuous, but ever frank, generous, and conciliatory, was at once felt to be incapable of such a deed.

Heaca, Bishop of Selsey, dies.

Three other deaths followed among the great men of the land, two of which were of no small political importance. |Æthelric succeeds. 1057.| It was not of any special moment, as far as we know, when Heaca, Bishop of Selsey or of the South-Saxons, died, and was succeeded by Æthelric, a monk of Christ Church.[1234] It |Death of Earl Leofric. August 31, 1057.| was quite another matter when the great Earl of the Mercians, so long the honoured mediator between opposing races and opposing interests, died in a good old age in his own house at Bromley in Staffordshire.[1235] Of all the churches and monasteries which had been enriched and adorned by the bounty of Leofric and Godgifu, none was dearer to them than the great minster of Coventry, the city with which their names are inseparably connected in one of those silly legends which have helped to displace our early history.[1236] There Leofric was buried in the church which he and his wife had raised from the foundations,[1237] and had enriched with gifts which made it wealthier and more magnificent than all the minsters of England.[1238] Godgifu survived her husband many years; she saw her son and grandsons rise and fall; she saw her granddaughter share first a vassal and then an Imperial Crown, and then vanish out of sight as a homeless widow. At last she herself died, still in the possession of some part at least of her vast estates, a subject of the Norman invader.[1239]

Death of Earl Ralph. December 21, 1057.

A few months after the death of Leofric came the death of the stranger who had seemingly held a subordinate Earldom under his authority. Ralph, Earl of the Magesætas, the French nephew of King Eadward, died near the end of the year, and was buried in the distant minster of Peterborough,[1240] to which he had been a benefactor.[1241] |His possible pretensions to the Crown.| I have already started the question whether the thoughts of Eadward had ever turned towards him as a possible successor.[1242] After the death of the Ætheling, the hopes of Ralph and his brother Walter, if they had any, might again revive. But if so, death soon cut short any such schemes. Walter, the reigning prince of a foreign state, would have no chance. If any such prince were to be chosen, it would be better at once to take the renowned Duke of the Normans than the insignificant Count of Mantes. But Ralph, whether he was ever actually thought of or not, was clearly a possible candidate; his death therefore, following so soon after the death of the Ætheling, removed another obstacle from the path of Harold.

Redistribution of Earldoms. Christmas, 1057–1058?

The deaths of the two Earls involved a redistribution of the chief governments of England, which would naturally be carried out in the following Christmas Gemót. The Earldom of the Mercians, such parts of it at least as had been under the immediate authority of Leofric, was conferred |Ælfgar Earl of the Mercians.| on his son Ælfgar.[1243] It shows how vast must have been the hereditary influence of his house, when such a trust could not be refused to a man who had so lately trampled under foot every principle of loyalty and patriotism. But care was taken to make him as little dangerous as possible. Ælfgar may have hoped that, on the death of Ralph, the Earldom of the Magesætas would again be merged in Mercia, and that, excepting the shires attached to Northumberland, he might rule over the whole realm of Offa and Æthelflæd. But policy altogether forbade that the Herefordshire border should be again placed in the hands of one who had so lately acted as the |Marriage of Gruffydd and Ealdgyth.| ally of Gruffydd. We know not whether the Welsh King had already entered into a still closer relation with the English Earl by his marriage with Ælfgar’s beautiful daughter Ealdgyth. The date of that marriage is not recorded; it may have already taken place, or it may have happened on the next occasion, one distant only by a few months, when we shall find the names of Gruffydd and Ælfgar coupled together. But if the Welsh King was already the son-in-law of the Mercian Earl, there was a still further reason for placing some special safeguard on that border of the realm. In short, the government of Herefordshire was so important that it could not be safely placed in any hands but those of the foremost man in England. There is distinct evidence to show that, within two or three years after the death of |Herefordshire added to Harold’s Earldom.| Leofric, the Earldom of Herefordshire was in the hands of Harold.[1244] We can therefore hardly doubt that, on the resettlement which must have followed the deaths of Leofric and Ralph, the Earldom of the Magesætas was attached to the Earldom of the West-Saxons, and that Harold now became the immediate ruler of the district of which he had been the deliverer, and of the city of which he might |Harold the son of Ralph.| claim to be the second founder. Earl Ralph had left a son, a namesake, probably a godson, of the great Earl, and Harold the son of Ralph appears in Domesday as a landowner both before and after the Conquest. His name still survives within his father’s Earldom, where it cleaves to an existing parish and to a castle which has wholly vanished. But Earldoms were not hereditary, and the son of Ralph was so young that, eight years later, he was still under wardship.[1245] On this ground, if on no other, Harold, the great-nephew of Eadward, the great-grandson of Æthelred, was so far from appearing as a competitor for the Crown of his ancestors that he was not even thought of as a possible successor for his father’s Earldom. His name is altogether unknown to history, and but for his place in Domesday and in local tradition, his very existence might have been forgotten. His renowned namesake was now entrusted |Question as to Gloucestershire.| with the great border government. But it is by no means clear whether Harold held Herefordshire as a detached possession, as Northamptonshire and Huntingdonshire were held by Siward and Tostig, or whether it was connected with his West-Saxon Earldom by the possession of Gloucestershire. If so, the rule of the Earl of the West-Saxons must now have been extended over nearly all that was West-Saxon land in the days of Ceawlin.[1246]

While the power of Harold was thus increased, the time seemed to have come for raising the younger sons of Godwine to a share in the honours of his house. The |Gyrth Earl of the East-Angles, [1057–1058],| East-Anglian Earldom, vacated by the translation of Ælfgar to Mercia, was now conferred on Gyrth. But the boundaries of the government were changed. Essex was detached from East-Anglia. The new Earl probably received only the two strictly East-Anglian shires, with the |and of Oxfordshire.| addition of Cambridgeshire, to which was afterwards added the detached shire of Oxford.[1247] The policy of attaching |Policy of these detached shires.| these detached shires to distant Earldoms is not very clear. It could not be the same policy which afterwards led the Conqueror to scatter the fiefs of his great vassals over distant portions of the Kingdom. There was certainly no intention of weakening any of the Earls whose governments were thus divided. The object was far more probably to bring the influence of the House of Godwine to bear upon all parts of the country. Some old connexion had attached Northamptonshire to Northumberland at an earlier time, and the example thus given was seized on as a means for planting the authority of the rising house in every convenient quarter. Oxfordshire, it will be remembered, had formed part of the Earldom of Swegen; it was now placed in the hands of Gyrth. For it was highly important that the great frontier town of Mercia and Wessex, the seat of so many important national meetings, should be in thoroughly trustworthy hands. Ælfgar’s loyalty was most doubtful; it was impossible altogether to oust him from command, but it was expedient to confine his powers of mischief within the smallest possible compass, and to hem him in, whenever it could be, by men who could be relied on. Unfortunately at Chester, the most dangerous point of all, the family interest of the House of Leofric was too strong to allow of that important shire being put into any hands but those of Ælfgar. We shall presently see the result.

Leofwine Earl of Kent, Essex, &c.

Leofwine also was apparently provided for at the same time.[1248] His government, like that of Swegen at an earlier time, was carved out of several ancient Kingdoms and Earldoms, but it lay much more compactly on the map than the anomalous province which took in Oxford, Taunton, and Hereford. It consisted in fact of south-eastern England—of Kent, Essex, Hertford, Surrey, probably Buckinghamshire—that is of the shires round the |London exempt.| mouth of the Thames. London, as was natural, remained exempt from any jurisdiction but that of its Bishop and the chief officers of the city. The whole East of England was thus placed under the rule of the two younger sons of Godwine. But the evidence of the writs seems to show that Harold retained a general superintendence over their governments, whether simply as their elder brother or in any more exalted character.

The House of Godwine at its greatest point of greatness. 1058–1065.

The House of Godwine had thus reached the greatest height of power and dignity which a subject house could reach. Whatever was the origin of the family, they had won for themselves a position such as no English family ever won before or after. Four brothers, sons of a father who, whether Earl or churl by birth, had risen to greatness by his own valour and counsel, divided by far the greater part of England among them. The whole Kingdom, save a few shires in the centre, was in their hands. And three at least out of the four showed that they well deserved their greatness. To the eldest among the four there evidently belonged a more marked preeminence still. Two of his brothers, those most recently appointed to Earldoms, were clearly little more than Harold’s lieutenants. And a prospect of still higher greatness now lay open to him |State of the royal line.| and his house. The royal line was dying out. No adult male descendant of Æthelred remained; no adult descendant of any kind remained within the Kingdom. The only survivors of the true kingly stock were the son and daughters of the Ætheling, children born in a foreign land. If any hopes of royalty had ever flitted before the eyes of Ralph, such hopes could not extend to his son the young Harold or to his brother the Count of Mantes. |Harold’s prospect of the Crown.| The time was clearly coming when Englishmen might choose for themselves a King from among their brethren, unfettered by any traditional reverence for the blood of Ælfred, Cerdic, and Woden. And when that day should come, on whom should the choice of England fall save on the worthiest man of the worthiest house within the realm? We cannot doubt that, from the year when the three deaths of Eadward, Leofric, and Ralph seemed to sweep away all hindrances from his path, Harold looked forward to a day when he and his might rise to a rank yet loftier than that of Earl. It was no longer wholly beyond hope that he might himself ascend the Imperial throne of Britain, and that the Earldoms of England might be held by his brothers as Æthelings of the House of Godwine. The event proves that such were the hopes of Harold, that such, we may add, were the hopes of England. Such hopes may, even at an earlier time, have flashed across the mind of Harold himself or across the minds of zealous friends of his house or zealous admirers of his exploits. But this was the first moment when such hopes could have assumed anything like form and substance; it was the first moment when the chances seemed distinctly to be rather for than against their fulfilment. That Harold from this time doubtless aspired to the Crown, that he directed all his conduct by a hope of securing the Crown, cannot be doubted. And the unanimity with which he was raised to the throne when the great day came seems to show that men’s minds had long been prepared to look to him as their future sovereign. We cannot doubt that, after the death of the Ætheling Eadward, Wessex and East-Anglia at least were ready to transfer the English Crown from the line of Æthelred to the line of Godwine.

Questions as to Harold’s position.

Two questions still remain. Did Harold, in thus looking forward to the Crown, know, as he came to know at last, how formidable a rival was making ready for him beyond the sea? And was the succession of Harold merely a probability, a moral certainty it may be, to which men learned to look forward as a matter of course, or were the hopes of the great Earl confirmed by any act of the Witan or any promise of the King? Both questions are hard to answer. Both are inseparably mixed up with the most difficult questions in our whole history, the alleged promise made to William by Eadward and the alleged oath made to him by Harold. I have already expressed my belief that Eadward’s alleged promise to the Norman Duke, which formed the main ground of William’s pretensions to the English Crown, though exaggerated and perverted in the Norman accounts, was not a mere Norman invention. I believe that some promise really was made, and that the time when it was made was when William visited Eadward during the banishment of Godwine.[1249] Of the nature and form of that promise it is difficult to say anything. We may indeed unhesitatingly dismiss the notion that a settlement was made in William’s favour by a decree |Effects of Eadward’s promise to William.| of the Witan. Still any promise of any kind could hardly have been kept so complete a secret but that it must have got blazed abroad, and have reached the ears of the Earl and his countrymen. The Norman party, during their short moment of complete triumph, would have no motive to keep the matter a secret. They would deem themselves to have reached the great accomplishment of all that they had been scheming for, when there seemed a prospect of the English Crown passing, without slash or blow, to the brow of the Norman. The fact of the promise would doubtless be known, and by statesmen it would be remembered. But it does not follow that it would make any deep impression on the mass of the nation. Men would hear of the promise in a vague sort of way, and would at the time be divided between wonder and indignation. But the idea of the succession of the Norman would be looked on as something which had passed away with other Norman ideas, when the English Earls came back to claim their own. Even after Harold’s election as King, the prospect of the Norman invasion is spoken of in a way which seems to show that, to the mass of Englishmen, the claim of William was even then something new and surprising.[1250] |Policy of the patriotic party;| But by a statesman like Harold, if the matter was once known, it would never be forgotten. It would hardly be a thing to talk much of openly; but to counteract any possible schemes of William must have been the main object of Harold’s policy from the day when he was first called to the head of affairs. We can understand how Eadward was led to deem his promise null, and to send for |candidature first of Eadward the Ætheling,| the Ætheling as his destined successor. This was, under the circumstances, a great triumph of the national policy. A competitor, accepted by the voice of the nation, was placed in William’s path, a competitor whom William himself would hardly dare to attack. The death of the Ætheling made matters more difficult. There was now no such unexceptionable rival to oppose to the Norman. |then of Harold.| Harold indeed, before his oath, was a far more formidable rival to William than Harold after his oath. He had not yet given his enemy that fatal advantage which the wily Duke knew so well how to employ. But Harold’s succession would have all the disadvantages of a novelty. If he could not yet be branded as a perjurer, yet he might be, in a way that the Ætheling never could be, branded as an usurper. Either of the Eadwards, in short, with Harold for his guide and counsellor, would be really stronger than Harold himself as King. But the risk had now to be run. The nation at large had most likely but vague notions as to the danger. But Harold, Stigand, and all the leaders of the nation must have known that any step that they took would bring on their country the enmity of a most active and dangerous foe. Harold’s main object during his whole administration clearly was to strengthen England at home and abroad, to make her powerful and united when the inevitable day should come.

Question as to any formal act in Harold’s favour.

It is a more difficult question whether Harold’s succession was at all guaranteed, at this or at any time before Eadward’s death, by any formal act either of the King or of the Witan. We know that Eadward did exercise in Harold’s favour whatever influence or authority an English King had in the nomination of his successor. That nomination appears to have been finally and formally made on Eadward’s death-bed.[1251] But such a death-bed nomination is in no way inconsistent with a promise to the same effect at an earlier time. Any one indeed to whom such a promise had been made would undoubtedly seek to have it confirmed with all the solemnity which attaches to the last act of a dying man. And there are several circumstances, none perhaps of any great weight singly, but having together a sort of cumulative force, which seem to |Quasi-royal position of Harold.| point to Harold from this time as being something more than an ordinary Earl, however powerful and popular, as being in some sort a sharer in the powers and honours of royalty.[1252] We find his name coupled in public documents with that of the King in a way which certainly is not usual with the name of any subject. We find vassal princes plighting their faith to the King and to the Earl, as if they were senior and junior colleagues in a common office. We find Harold appearing in the eyes of foreigners under the lofty guise of a Duke of the English. That sounding title cannot have been really borne by him at home, but it seems to show that, even among strangers, he was felt to hold the position of a prince rather than that of the most exalted private noble. Lastly, in our best Latin chronicler we find him distinctly called by a title which is nowhere else, to my knowledge, conferred on a subject, but which is the familiar designation of vassal princes.[1253] All these touches, coming from such different quarters, seem naturally to suggest the view that Earl Harold was, seemingly from the death of the Ætheling, publicly recognized as holding a quasi-royal position, as being, in fact, the designated successor to the Crown.

Difficulties in the supposition of any formal vote.

On the other hand, there are difficulties about the belief that this position was conferred on Harold by any formal vote of the Witan. It is plain that a perfectly free choice of the King during the actual vacancy was a right which the English people, or their leaders, prized very dearly. All attempts to limit the choice of the electors beforehand had always signally failed.[1254] Since the abortive scheme of Æthelwulf, nothing at all answering to a King of the Romans had been seen in England.[1255] And if there were some reasons which, under present circumstances, might make such an unusual course specially desirable, there were other reasons which told against it with nearly equal force. With the royal house on the verge of extinction, with such a competitor as William carefully watching the course of events, it was most desirable to settle the succession with as much certainty as the laws of an elective monarchy allowed. It was most desirable that the successor to the throne should be the man most fitted for the highest of offices, the wisest head and the stoutest arm in the land. It was, in a word, the wish of every clear-sighted patriot that the successor of Eadward should be no other than Earl Harold. But, on the other hand, the choice of Earl Harold, or of any other man not of kingly blood, was something strange and unprecedented, something which might well shock the feelings and prejudices of men. The choice of a new King would in fact be the choice of a new dynasty; it would be to wipe out a sentiment as old as the days when the first West-Saxon set foot on British ground; it would be to transfer the Crown of Wessex, of England, of Britain, from the house of Cerdic, of Ecgberht, and of Æthelstan to the house of Godwine the son of Wulfnoth. Men might not as yet be so ready for so momentous a change as they certainly were nine years |Possible claims of young Eadgar.| later. And an irrevocable decision in favour of Harold might well be looked on as a wrong done to a third possible competitor. The royal house, though on the verge of extinction, was not yet extinct. The Ætheling had left a son, the young Eadgar. The son was undoubtedly not entitled to the same constitutional preference as his father. But in some respects he was a more promising candidate than his father. Like the renowned Bastard himself, he was little, but he would grow.[1256] If a vacancy happened at once, his claims could hardly be pressed. But the King might live many years, and Eadgar might succeed his great-uncle in all the vigour of early manhood. He was not indeed, like his father, an Englishman born, the son of an English King by an English mother. But then he might be, as his father had not been, brought up with the feelings of an Englishman, of a destined ruler of England. Nine years before the death of Eadward, men might well deem that it was not expedient, by any premature declaration in favour of the great Earl, to cut off the chances of a succession in many ways so desirable as that of the young Ætheling. If King Eadward lived long enough to make Eadgar’s succession possible and expedient, that succession might, like that of his father, form a better check to the ambition of William than the succession of Harold.

Probably no formal act, but a general understanding in favour of Harold.

On the whole then it is perhaps safer not to suppose any formal act of the Witan on behalf of Harold. The circumstances of the case may be explained by supposing that Eadward promised Harold his recommendation in case of his own death during Eadgar’s childhood. It would be a sort of understood thing that, in case of such an event, the Earl of the West-Saxons would be a candidate for the Crown with every chance of success. As Harold’s renown increased, as the chances of Eadward’s life grew weaker, as Eadgar’s incapacity became more and more manifest, men would look with more and more certainty to the great Earl as their future King.[1257] Without any formal decree, he would, by common consent, step into the position, or more than the position, of a born Ætheling, and he would find himself insensibly sharing the powers, and even the titles, of royalty. And we cannot doubt that the great rival beyond sea was carefully watching every step of this process. If we realize that Harold—the Duke of the English—was virtually, if not formally, the designated successor to the Crown, we can still better understand the eagerness of William to obtain by any means the Earl’s recognition of his claims. It was not merely to bind the most powerful man in the land to his cause; it was to obtain what was virtually an abdication from one who was virtually the destined heir.

Harold now chief ruler of England. 1057–1066.

The famous oath of Harold is so uncertain as to its date and all its circumstances that it might be treated without impropriety at almost any stage of my narrative. But, as it is so uncertain, as it is recorded by no contemporary English writer, I prefer to put off its consideration till it is convenient to take up again the thread of Norman affairs, to examine fully into William’s claims, and to describe his preparations to assert those claims. Meanwhile we have to see how Harold ruled over England, now that he was without an equal competitor within the land. Save the shires ruled by the turbulent Ælfgar, the government of all England was now divided between himself and his brothers; and there was now nothing but the life of the reigning King between him and the English Crown.

CHAPTER X.

THE REIGN OF EADWARD FROM THE DEATH OF THE ÆTHELING TO THE DEATH OF THE KING.[1258]
1057–1066.

§ 1. The Ecclesiastical Administration of Earl Harold. 1058–1062.

Dominant position of Harold.

We thus see Harold at the greatest height of real power which he ever attained while still a subject. He was Earl of the West-Saxons and principal counsellor of the King, and he was, in all probability, already looked on as the practical heir presumptive to the Crown. Three other great Earldoms were in the hands of his three brothers. The greatness of the House of Godwine seemed now to be fully established. Save for a single moment, and that probably during Harold’s absence from England, the authority of Harold and his family remained untouched till quite the |Predominance of ecclesiastical affairs.| end of Eadward’s reign. The first few years of this period form a time of unusual quiet, a time in which, as is usual in times of quiet, our attention is almost wholly |Harold in relation to the Church.| occupied with ecclesiastical affairs. The great Earl now appears as something like an ecclesiastical reformer, as a founder, a pilgrim, the fast friend of one holy Bishop, a rightful or wrongful disputant against another Prelate of less renown. But we have evidence that care for the Church did not occupy the whole of the attention of Earl Harold. The Earldom of Wessex and the Kingdom of England had still to be watched over; and the candidate for a Crown which was likely to be disputed by the Duke of the Normans kept a diligent eye on all that was going on in the lands beyond the sea.

Harold’s pilgrimage to Rome. 1058?

Harold, like Cnut and like a crowd of other persons great and small, fell in with the popular devotion of the day with regard to pilgrimages. The Earl of the West-Saxons went to pray at the tombs of the Apostles, and, though the date of his pilgrimage is not absolutely certain, there are strong reasons for believing that it happened in the year following the deaths of the Ætheling and the Earls Leofric and Ralph.[1259] But Harold, like Cnut, did not, even while engaged in this holy work, wholly forget his own interests or the interests of his friends and his |He studies the politics of the French Princes.| country. He had, we are told, long been watching the condition, the policy, and the military force of the princes of France, among whom we cannot doubt that the Duke of the Normans came in for the largest share of his attention. He therefore took the opportunity of his pilgrimage to go through France, and by personal examination to make himself thoroughly master of the politics of the land.[1260] His name was well known in the country; he was doubtless received everywhere with honour; he did not go on till he had gained such a thorough insight into all that he needed to know that no deception could for the future be practised upon him. This description is vague and dark, no doubt purposely vague and dark; but it doubtless veils a good deal. One longs to know whether Harold was at this time personally received at the Court of Rouen, and what was the general result of his inquiries into the policy of his great rival. And the question at once forces itself upon the mind, Was this the time of Harold’s famous oath or homage to William? Did anything happen on this journey which formed the germ out of which grew the great accusation brought against him by his rival? I reserve the full discussion of all these questions for another occasion; but on the whole it seems more likely that the event, whatever it was, on which the charge of perjury against Harold was founded, took place at some time nearer to the death of Eadward.

Harold at Rome.

When Harold had finished his political inquiries in France, he continued his religious journey to Rome. If I am right in the date which I assign to his pilgrimage, he found the Holy See in the possession of a Pontiff whom the Church has since agreed to brand as an usurper. Early in |Stephen the Ninth Pope. 1057–1058.| this year died Pope Stephen the Ninth, otherwise Frederick of Lotharingia, Abbot of Monte Casino, after a reign of |Benedict the Tenth Pope. 1058–1059.| only one year.[1261] On his death, Mincius, Bishop of Velletri and Cardinal, was placed in an irregular manner on the pontifical throne by the influence of the Counts of Tusculum.[1262] He took the name of Benedict the Tenth. The Cardinals seem not to have acknowledged him; Hildebrand—the first time that great name occurs in our history—obtained the consent of the Empress Agnes to a |Nicolas the Second Pope. 1059–1061.| new and more canonical election. In the next April Benedict was driven out, and the new Pope, Gerard of Burgundy, Bishop of Florence, was enthroned by the name of Nicolas the Second.[1263] But, for the space of a year, Benedict had actual possession of the Papal throne, and was seemingly generally recognized in Rome. A Roman, of the house of the famous Consul Crescentius, he was probably more acceptable than a more regularly appointed Pontiff from Lotharingia or Burgundy. Benedict was in all probability the Pope whom Earl Harold found in |Benedict grants the pallium to Stigand, 1058; probably through the influence of Harold.| possession at the time of his pilgrimage. It is certain that Benedict sent to Archbishop Stigand the long delayed ornament of the pallium, the cherished badge of the archiepiscopal dignity.[1264] One can hardly avoid the surmise that Harold pleaded for his friend, and that the concession to the English Primate was the result of the personal presence of the first of living Englishmen. Stigand was not personally present at Rome; the pallium was sent to him, and most likely Earl Harold himself was its bearer. In this act Harold no doubt thought, and naturally thought, that he was healing a breach, and doing a great service to his Church and country. The evils arising from the doubtful position of Stigand were manifest. That a man should be, in the eye of the Law, Archbishop of Canterbury, and yet that his purely spiritual ministrations should be very generally declined, was an anomaly to which it was desirable to put a stop as soon as might be. Harold would naturally deem that he had done all that could be needed by procuring the solemn recognition of Stigand from the Pope whom he found in actual possession of the Holy See. That Pope Benedict was himself an usurper, that his ministrations were as irregular as those of Stigand himself, that he could not confer a commission which he did not himself possess, was a canonical subtlety which was not likely to occur to the mind of the English Earl. He could not foresee that an ecclesiastical revolution would so soon hurl Benedict from his throne, and that he and all who clave to |Effects of Benedict’s recognition.| him would be branded as schismatics. In fact the recognition of Stigand by Benedict did harm instead of good. After Benedict’s fall, it became a further charge against Stigand that he had received the pallium from the usurper. For the moment indeed the Archbishop seemed |Bishops consecrated by Stigand.| to have regained his proper position. Two Bishopricks fell vacant in the course of the year, Selsey by the death of Heaca, and Rochester, it is not quite clear how.[1265] The newly appointed Bishops, Æthelric of Selsey and Siward of Rochester, received consecration from a Primate who was now at last held to be in canonical possession.[1266] The fact is most significant that these were the first and last Bishops whom Stigand consecrated during the reign of Eadward.

Return of Harold.

Harold returned to England, having by some means, the exact nature of which is lost in the rhetoric of his panegyrist, escaped the dangers which seem to have specially beset pilgrims on their journey homeward.[1267] If I am right in my conjecture as to the date of his pilgrimage, an event had taken place in his absence which showed the weakness of the government when his strong hand was not nigh |Second outlawry and return of Ælfgar. 1058.| to guide it. We are told by a single Chronicler that this year Earl Ælfgar was again outlawed, but that he soon recovered his Earldom by the help of Gruffydd and of a Norwegian fleet which came unexpectedly to his help.[1268] We hear not a word as to the causes or circumstances. |Difficulties as to the story.| One is inclined to guess that the story may be merely an accidental repetition, under a wrong year, of Ælfgar’s former outlawry three years before.[1269] It is certainly not likely that Harold would have tamely submitted to so outrageous a breach both of the royal authority and of the national dignity. But to suppose that these events happened during the time of his absence from the country is an explanation of this difficulty quite as easy as to suppose the story to be a mere misconception. One thing at least should be noted. A feud with the House of Leofric, which, in the case of Harold, is a mere matter of surmise, is, in the case of Tostig, distinctly asserted by a contemporary writer.[1270] It is quite possible that Tostig may, in his brother’s absence, have acted a part towards the rival house which his brother’s conciliatory policy would not have approved of. He may also have found himself, in his brother’s absence, unable to quell the storm which he had raised. But all speculations of this kind must be quite uncertain. The statement stands before us; we may put our own value on its authority, and we may make our own explanation of the facts, but we cannot get beyond conjecture.

The pilgrimage of Earl Harold may perhaps have suggested to the active Bishop Ealdred a longer pilgrimage still. That diligent Prelate was at this time busy about |Ecclesiastical history of Gloucester.| many matters. Gloucester, the frontier city on the Severn, the usual mid-winter seat of the national Councils, had just received a special ornament from his munificence. |Abbey of Nuns, 681–767.| The city had been in early times the seat of an Abbey of nuns, which came to an end during the confusions which fell on the Mercian Kingdom towards the end of the eighth |Secular College, 767?-1022.| century.[1271] The house then became a College of secular priests,[1272] which lasted till the days of Cnut. In the same spirit in which Cnut himself substituted monks for |Benedictine Abbey, 1022–1539.| secular canons in the Church of Saint Eadmund at Bury,[1273] Wulfstan, Archbishop of York and Bishop of Worcester, |Cathedral Church, 1541–1868.| made the same change in the Church of Saint Peter at Gloucester.[1274] The rule of Saint Benedict was now rigidly |Abbot Eadric. 1022–1058.| carried out, and one Eadric became the first Abbot. His government lasted for more than thirty-six years, but his local reputation is not good, as he is charged with wasting |Ealdred rebuilds and consecrates the church, and appoints Wulfstan Abbot. 1058.| the property of the monastery.[1275] Meanwhile the bounty of Ealdred rebuilt the church of Saint Peter from its foundations, and it now stood ready for consecration. Abbot Eadric most opportunely died at this time, so that Ealdred was able at once to furnish his new minster with a new chief ruler. He consecrated the church, and bestowed the abbatial benediction on Wulfstan, a monk of his own church of Worcester, on whom, by the King’s licence, he conferred the vacant office.[1276] It was just at this time that |Ealdred restores the see of Ramsbury to Hermann and makes the pilgrimage to Jerusalem.| Bishop Hermann came back from Saint Omer. Ealdred, charged with the care of three dioceses, restored Ramsbury, the poorest and least distinguished, to its former owner.[1277] Worcester was no doubt entrusted to the care of Æthelwig;[1278] of any arrangements for the benefit of Hereford we hear nothing. Ealdred then undertook a journey which no English Bishop had ever before undertaken,[1279] which indeed we have not heard of as undertaken by any eminent Englishman of that generation, except by the repentant Swegen. Duke Robert of Normandy and Count Fulk of Anjou had visited the tomb of Christ, but Cnut and Harold had not gone further than the threshold of the Apostles. But Ealdred now undertook the longer journey; he passed through Hungary,[1280] a country which the negotiations for the return of the Ætheling had doubtless opened to English imaginations, and at last reached the holy goal of his pilgrimage. He went, we are told, with such worship as none ever went before him; his devotion was edifying and his gifts were splendid. A chalice of gold, of five marks weight, and of wondrous workmanship, was the offering of the renowned English Prelate at the most sacred spot on earth.[1281]

Barrenness of events in the year 1059.

The next year is one singularly barren of English events. The Chronicles literally record nothing of greater importance than the fact that the steeple of Peterborough minster was hallowed.[1282] The zeal and bounty of Abbot Leofric[1283] was busily at work. And from other sources all that is to be learned is the appointment of a new Abbot of Evesham. That appointment however was in some |Resignation of Abbot Mannig of Evesham. 1059. [His death. Jan. 5, 1066.]| respects a remarkable one. Abbot Mannig, the architect, painter, and general proficient in the arts, had been smitten by paralysis, and had resigned his office. He lived however in honour for seven years longer, and died, so it was said, on the same day and hour as King Eadward.[1284] His successor was Æthelwig, the monk who acted for Ealdred when absent from his diocese, and who was now Provost of the monastery of Evesham.[1285] As in the case of Wulfstan at Gloucester, we hear nothing distinctly of any capitular election. The retiring Abbot seems to nominate his successor. Pleading his illness as an excuse for not coming personally, he sends certain monks and laymen to |Æthelwig Abbot. April 23, 1059.| the King, recommending Æthelwig for the Abbacy. The King approves, and, by his order, Ealdred gives the abbatial benediction to Æthelwig at Gloucester in the Easter Gemót holden in that city.[1286] Of the new Prelate we shall hear again more than once.

Deposition of Pope Benedict; its effect on the position of Stigand. 1059.

This year however was by no means an unimportant one in English history. It was now that, as all our Chronicles so carefully note, the intruding Benedict was deposed, and Nicolas succeeded to the Papacy. The recognition of Stigand lasted no longer than the temporary recognition of Benedict. When the Pontiff from whom he had received his pallium sank to the position of an Antipope and schismatic, the English Primate sank again to the anomalous position in which he had been before. His ministrations were again avoided, even in the quarter which one would have least expected to find affected by such scruples. Earl Harold himself, when he needed the performance of a great ecclesiastical ceremony, now shrank from having it performed by the hands of the Primate who, in all political matters, was his friend and fellow-worker.

Harold’s minster at Waltham consecrated. May 3, 1060.

For we have now reached the date of an event which closely binds together the ecclesiastical and the secular history of the time. It was in the year following the expulsion of Benedict that Earl Harold brought to perfection the minster which he had doubtless for some time been engaged in rearing on his East-Saxon lordship of Waltham. Whether any portion of the fabric still existing is the work of its great founder is a matter of antiquarian controversy on which I will not here enlarge. But whether the existing nave, or any part of it, be Harold’s work or not, the historic interest of that memorable spot remains in either case the same. As we go on we shall see Waltham win for itself an abiding fame as the last resting-place of its great founder; at present we have to look to the foundation itself as a most remarkable witness to that |Nature and importance of the foundation| founder’s wisdom as well as his bounty.[1287] The importance of the foundation of Waltham in forming an estimate, both of Harold’s personal character and of the ecclesiastical |generally misunderstood.| position of England at the time, has been altogether slurred over through inattention to the real character of the foundation. Every writer of English history, as far as I know, has wholly misrepresented its nature. It is constantly spoken of as an Abbey, and its inhabitants as monks.[1288] Waltham and its founder thus get mixed up with the vulgar crowd of monastic foundations, the creations in many cases of a real and enlightened piety, but in many cases also of mere superstition or mere fashion. The great ecclesiastical foundation of Earl Harold was something |Change of foundation by Henry the Second. 1177.| widely different. Harold did not found an Abbey; Waltham did not become a religious house till Henry the Second, liberal of another man’s purse, destroyed Harold’s foundation by way of doing honour to the new Martyr of Canterbury. Harold founded a Dean and secular Canons; these King Henry drove out, and put in an Abbot and Austin Canons in their place.[1289] Harold’s foundation, in short, was an enlargement of the original small foundation of Tofig the Proud.[1290] Tofig had built a church for the reception of the miraculous crucifix which had been found at Lutegarsbury, and had made an endowment for two priests only. The Holy Rood of Waltham became an object of popular worship and pilgrimage, and probably the small settlement originally founded by Tofig in the middle of the forest was already growing into a considerable town. |Æthelstan son of Tofig and his son Esegar.| The estate of Tofig at Waltham had been lost by his son Æthelstan,[1291] and was confiscated to the Crown. I have already suggested that Æthelstan, the son of a Danish father, may not improbably have been one of the party which opposed the election of Eadward, and most of whose members suffered more or less on that account.[1292] But the royal disfavour which fell on Æthelstan did not extend to his son Esegar, who held the office of Staller from a very early period |Acquisition of Waltham by Harold.| of Eadward’s reign till the Norman invasion.[1293] But the lordship of Waltham was granted by the King to his brother-in-law Earl Harold,[1294] with whom it evidently became a |He rebuilds the Church.| favourite dwelling-place. The Earl now rebuilt the small church of Tofig on a larger and more splendid scale, no doubt calling to his aid all the resources which were supplied by the great contemporary developement of architecture in Normandy.[1295] One who so diligently noted all that was going on in contemporary Gaul would doubtless keep his eye on such matters also. When the church was built, he enriched it with precious gifts and relics of all |He founds the College.| sorts, some of which he had himself brought personally from Rome on his pilgrimage.[1296] Lastly, he increased the number of clergy attached to the church from two to a much larger number, a Dean and twelve Canons, besides several inferior officers.[1297] He richly endowed them with lands, and contemplated larger endowments still.

Nature of his foundation.

This is something very different from the foundation of a monastery. Harold finds a church on his estate the seat of a popular worship; he rebuilds the fabric and increases the number of its ministers. The order of his proceedings is very clearly traced out in the royal charter by which the foundation was confirmed two years later. The founder of a monastery first got together his monks, and gave them some temporary habitation; the church and the other buildings then grew up gradually. The church of a monastery exists for the sake of the monks, but in a secular foundation the canons or other clergy may be said to exist for the sake of the church. So at Waltham, Harold first rebuilt the church; he then secured to it the elder endowment of Tofig; he had it consecrated, and enriched it with relics and other gifts; he, last of all, after the consecration, set about his plan for increasing the number of clergy attached to it.[1298] Tofig’s two priests of course were still there to discharge the duties of the place in the meanwhile. And the clergy whom Harold placed in his newly founded minster were not monks, but secular priests, each man living on his own prebend, and some of |Harold’s zeal for education.| them, it would seem, married. Education also occupied a prominent place in the magnificent and enlightened scheme of the great Earl.[1299] The Chancellor or Lecturer—for the word Schoolmaster conveys too humble an idea—filled a |Adelard of Lüttich.| dignified place in the College, and the office was bestowed by the founder on a distinguished man from a foreign land. We have seen throughout that, stout English patriot as Harold was, he was never hindered by any narrow insular prejudice from seeking merit wherever he could find it. Harold had seen something of the world; he had visited both France and Italy; but it was not however from any land of altogether foreign speech that he sought for coadjutors in his great work. As in the case of so many appointments of Bishops, so now, in appointing an important officer in his own College, Harold, when he looked beyond our own island, looked in the first place to the lands of kindred Teutonic speech.[1300] As Ælfred had brought over Grimbald and John the Old-Saxon, so now Harold brought over Adelard of Lüttich to be the head of the educational department of his foundation, and to be his general adviser in the whole work.[1301] Adelard had been already employed under the Emperor Henry the Third, one of the truest and most enlightened of ecclesiastical reformers, in bringing several of the churches of his dominions into better discipline. He now came over to England, became a Canon and Lecturer at Waltham, and, using his genuine Teutonic liberty, handed on his office to his son.[1302]

Harold a friend of the secular clergy.

The truth is, as we have already seen several indications, that Harold, so far from being an ordinary founder of a monastery, was a deliberate and enlightened patron of the secular clergy. He is described in the foundation charter |Long continuance of the struggle between regulars and seculars.| of his College as their special and active friend.[1303] The old struggle which had been going on from the days of Dunstan was going on still, and it went on long after. Harold, like the elder Eadward in his foundation at Winchester, like Æthelstan in his foundation at Milton, preferred the seculars, the more practically useful class, the class less removed from ordinary human and national feelings. In his eyes even a married priest was not a monster of vice. To make such a choice in the monastic reign of Eadward, when the King on his throne was well nigh himself a monk, was worthy of Harold’s lofty and independent spirit; it was another proof of his steady and clear-sighted patriotism. In truth, of the two great foundations of this reign, Earl Harold’s College at Waltham stands in distinct opposition, almost in distinct rivalry, to King Eadward’s Abbey at Westminster. And it is not unlikely that Harold’s preference for the secular clergy may have had some share in bringing upon him the obloquy which he undergoes at the hands of so many ecclesiastical writers. It was not only the perjurer, the usurper, but the man whose hand was closed against the monk and open to the married priest, who won the hatred of Norman and monastic writers. With the coming of the Normans the monks finally triumphed. Monasticism, in one form or another, was triumphant for some ages. Harold’s own foundation was perverted from his original design; his secular priests were expelled to make room for those whom the fashion of the age looked on as holier than they. At last the tide turned; men of piety and munificence learned that the monks had got enough, and from the fourteenth century onwards, the bounty of founders took the same direction which it had taken under Æthelstan and Harold. Colleges, educational and otherwise, in the Universities and out of them, now again arose alongside of the monastic institutions which had now thoroughly |Witness of Waltham to Harold’s character.| fallen from their first love. In short, the foundation of Waltham, instead of being simply slurred over as a monastic foundation of the ordinary kind, well deserves to be dwelt upon, both as marking an æra in our ecclesiastical history, and also as bearing the most speaking witness to the real character of its illustrious founder. The care and thoughtfulness, as well as the munificence, displayed in every detail of the institution, the zeal for the advancement of learning as well as for mere ecclesiastical splendour, the liberal patronage of even foreign merit, all unite to throw a deep interest round Earl Harold’s minster, and they would of themselves be enough to win him a high place among the worthies of England. No wonder then that this noble foundation became in a peculiar manner identified with its founder; no wonder that it was to Waltham that he went for prayer and meditation in the great crisis of his life, that it was at Waltham that his body found its last resting-place, that at Waltham his memory still lived, fresh and cherished, while elsewhere calumny had fixed itself upon his glorious name. No wonder too that the local relic became a centre of national reverence; that the object of Harold’s devotion became the badge and rallying-point of English national life; that the “Holy Rood”—the Holy Rood of Waltham—became the battle-cry of England, the shout which urged her sons to victory at Stamfordbridge, and which still rose to heaven, as long as an English arm had life, in that last battle where England and her King were overthrown.

The church consecrated May 3, 1060,

At what time the foundation of Waltham was begun is not recorded, but the church was finished and consecrated in the year 1060, the ceremony being performed on the appropriate day of the Invention of the Cross.[1304] The minster was hallowed in the presence of King Eadward and the Lady Eadgyth, and of most of the chief men of the land, clerical and lay.[1305] But the chief actor in that day’s rite was neither the Bishop of the diocese nor the |by Cynesige, Archbishop of York.| Metropolitan of the province. As Wulfstan had been brought from York to consecrate Cnut’s minster on Assandun,[1306] so this time also a Northern Primate came to consecrate Harold’s minster at Waltham. The position of Stigand, bettered for the moment through the pallium sent by Benedict, had fallen with the position of the Pontiff who had recognized him. In orthodox eyes he was again an usurper and a schismatic.[1307] Either this feeling had extended itself to the mind of Harold himself, or else he found it prudent to yield to the prejudices of others. Stigand was not called upon to officiate. It is not likely that William, the Bishop of the diocese, was excluded on account of his Norman birth, as we find no traces of any such jealousy of him at other times. The occasion was doubtless looked on as one of such dignity as to call for the ministrations of a Prelate of the highest rank. The new minster of Waltham, with its pillars fresh from the mason’s hand, and its altars blazing with the gorgeous gifts of its founder, was hallowed in all due form by Cynesige, Archbishop of York.

The Confirmation Charter. 1062.

The church was thus completed and consecrated; but it seemingly took Harold two years longer fully to arrange the details of his foundation, and to settle the exact extent of the lands which were to form its endowment. At the end of that time the royal charter which has been already quoted confirmed all the gifts and arrangements of the founder.

Death of Archbishop Cynesige. Dec. 22, 1060.

The Prelate who had played the most important part in the great ceremony at Waltham did not long survive that event. Shortly before the close of the year Archbishop Cynesige died at York, and was buried at Peterborough.[1308] Communication between distant places must have been easier in those times than we are at first sight inclined to think, for it appears that the news of the event which took place at York was known and acted upon at Gloucester only three days afterwards. We read that his successor was appointed on Christmas-Day.[1309] Now the appointment would regularly be made in the Witenagemót, and the Witenagemót would, according to the custom of this reign, be holding its Christmas sitting at Gloucester. Such speed would have been impossible if the Witan had not been actually in session when the vacancy occurred. The absence of Cynesige is of course explained by his mortal illness. But his successor was on the spot, and he was no doubt on the alert to take care of |Ealdred succeeds him. Dec. 25, 1060.| his own interests. Ealdred, the Bishop of the diocese in which the Assembly was held, was raised to the metropolitan see which had been so often held in conjunction with that of Worcester. Indeed, Ealdred himself, who had not scrupled to hold three Bishopricks at once, for a while followed the vicious example of his predecessors and retained the two sees in plurality. His successor in the see of Worcester was not appointed till two years later. But the church of Hereford, which Ealdred had administered for the last two years, now received a pastor of its own. That |Walter, Bishop of Hereford. 1060–1079.| Bishoprick was given to Walter, a Lotharingian by birth, and a Chaplain of the Lady Eadgyth.[1310] Either in this year or very early in the next[1311] died Duduc, the Saxon Bishop of Somersetshire, who had sat at Wells ever since the days of Cnut. His see was given to another Lotharingian, Gisa, a |Gisa Bishop of Wells 1060–1088.| Chaplain of the King.[1312] These appointments, taken in connexion with Harold’s own appointment of Adelard in his College at Waltham, must be carefully noticed. The influence of Harold, and with it the close connexion between England and Northern Germany, is now at its height.

From one however of the Prelates now appointed the great Earl hardly met with the gratitude which he deserved. The story is one of the best illustrations of the |Dispute between Harold and Gisa. 1061–1066.| way in which stories grow.[1313] Duduc, the late Bishop of Wells, had received from King Cnut certain estates as his private property, among which, strangely enough, we find reckoned the Abbey of Gloucester. Duduc, with King Eadward’s assent, is said to have made over these estates to his own church, besides various moveable treasures which he bequeathed on his death-bed. But on the death of Duduc, Earl Harold took possession of all. The new Bishop, looking on this as an injury done to his see, rebuked the Earl both privately and openly, and even meditated a sentence of excommunication against him. He never however ventured on this final step, and Harold, on his election to the Crown, promised both to restore the lands in question and to give others as well. The fulfilment of this promise was hindered by Harold’s death, which of course the Bishop represents |Gisa’s own story of the case.| as a divine judgement. This is Gisa’s story, and we do not possess Harold’s defence. But it is to be remarked that there is nothing in Gisa’s version which at all touches any ancient possessions of the see of Wells. He speaks only of some private estates which Duduc gave, or wished to give, to his church. Gisa does not even charge Harold with seizing anything which had belonged to the see before Duduc’s time; he simply hinders Duduc’s gifts and bequests from taking effect. Gisa says nothing of any appeal to the King, but simply of an appeal made by himself to the private conscience of Harold. The natural inference is that Harold, as Earl of the country, asserted a legal claim to the lands and other property, that he disputed Duduc’s right to dispose of them, and maintained that they fell to the King, or to the Earl as his representative. As Duduc was a foreigner, dying doubtless without heirs, it is highly probable that such would really be the law of the case. At all events, as we have no statement from the defendant and a very moderate one from the plaintiff, it is only fair to stop and think whether it is not possible that there may have been something to say on the side of the Earl as well as |Exaggerations of later writers.| on that of the Bishop. In any case, the simple statement of Gisa differs widely from the exaggerations of later writers. In their stories we hear how Harold, instead of simply hindering a new acquisition by the Church of Wells, plundered it of its old established possessions. While Earl, he drives the Canons away and reduces them to beggary. As King, he seizes all the estates of the see and drives the Bishop into banishment. All this, I need not say, is utterly inconsistent with Gisa’s own narrative and with our other corroborative evidence. The story is an instructive one. By the colouring given to it by Gisa himself, and by the exaggerations which it received in later times, we may learn to look with a good deal of suspicion on all stories of the kind. The principle is that the Church is in all cases to gain and never to lose; a regular and legal opposition to ecclesiastical claims is looked on as no less criminal than one which is altogether fraudulent or violent.

Later career of Walter and Gisa.

Both our Lotharingian Bishops survived the Conquest; Gisa survived the Conqueror himself. There is nothing to convict either of them of treason to England; but Gisa at least does not seem very warm in his patriotism for his adopted country. He is quite ready to forgive William for the Conquest of England in consideration of the help which he gave him in his reformation of the Church of Wells.[1314] Walter, on the other hand, is represented, in some accounts, as taking a prominent part in resistance to the Conqueror.[1315] The tale rests on no good authority, but it could hardly have been told of one whose conduct was known to have been of a directly opposite kind. On the other hand, as both Walter and Gisa kept their sees till death, they must at least have shown a discreet amount of submission to the new state of things. Walter came, so we are told, to a sad and shameful end,[1316] but one in which questions of Norman, English, and Lotharingian nationality |Gisa’s changes at Wells.| were in no way concerned. Gisa lived in honour, and died in the odour of sanctity, and he fills a prominent place in the history of the Church of Wells. He found his church, small, poor, served only by four or five Canons, who lived in houses in the town, and who, we are told, doubtless by a figure of speech, had sometimes to beg their bread.[1317] Gisa obtained various gifts from King Eadward and the Lady Eadgyth, and afterwards from William,[1318] and he was also enabled to buy several valuable possessions for his church.[1319] But he is most memorable for his attempt to introduce at Wells, as Leofric had done at Exeter,[1320] the rule |1059.| of his countryman Chrodegang. Two synods held at Rome a few years earlier, one of them the second Lateran Council, had made various ordinances with the object of enforcing this rule, or one of the same character, on all cathedral and collegiate clergy. In obedience to their orders, Gisa began to reform his Church according to the Lotharingian pattern.[1321] The number of the Canons of Wells was increased, their revenues were increased also, but they were obliged to forsake their separate houses, and to use the common refectory and dormitory which Gisa built for them.[1322] This change was still more short-lived at Wells than it was at Exeter. Whatever Gisa did was undone by his immediate successor.

Comparison between the foundations of Harold and Gisa.

It is to be noticed that the innovations of Leofric at Exeter and of Gisa at Wells were conceived in quite another spirit from Harold’s foundation at Waltham. The changes made by the Lotharingian Bishops—for Leofric, though English by birth, was Lotharingian in feeling—were changes in a monastic direction. Leofric and Gisa did not indeed expel their secular Canons and substitute monks; neither did they, like Wulfstan at Gloucester, require their Canons to take monastic vows or subject them to the fulness of monastic discipline. A Canon of Wells or Exeter could doubtless, unlike a monk, resign his office, and thereby free himself from the special obligations which it involved. But, while he retained his office, he was obliged to live in what, as compared with the free life of the English secular priest, must have seemed a monastic fashion. One may suspect that the rule of Chrodegang was but the small end of the wedge, and that, if the system had taken root and flourished, the next step would have been to impose monastic vows and full monastic discipline upon the capitular clergy. All this was utterly alien to the feelings of Englishmen. Our countrymen were, only too often, ready to found monasteries and to become monks. But they required that the process should be open and above-board. The monk should be a monk and the secular should be a secular. The secular had no mind to be entrapped into becoming a sort of half monk, while still nominally retaining the secular character. Earl Harold better understood his countrymen. When he determined on founding, not a monastery but a secular college, he determined that it should be really secular. The Canons of Waltham therefore lived like Englishmen, each man in his own house on his own prebend, while the Canons of Wells and Exeter had to submit for a while to the foreign discipline of the common refectory and the common dormer.

Walter and Gisa consecrated at Rome. April 15, 1061.

The Lotharingian Prelates seem to have been among the great disseminators of that feeling about the uncanonical appointment of Stigand, which, as we have seen, had perhaps touched the mind even of Harold himself.[1323] It is therefore not wonderful that the scruple had touched the mind of Eadward, and that it was by his authority that the two new Bishops went to Rome to receive consecration at the hands of the lawful Pope Nicolas.[1324] They refused to receive the rite from a Primate whose pallium had been received from an usurper, and, as Ealdred had as yet received no pallium at all, there was no other Metropolitan in the land to fall back upon. The scruple however was not universal. Another great ecclesiastical preferment fell vacant during the absence of Walter and |Death of Abbot Wulfric. April 18, 1061.| Gisa. Wulfric, Abbot of Saint Augustine’s at Canterbury, one of the Prelates who had appeared as the representatives of England at the Synod of Rheims,[1325] and who had been a splendid benefactor to his own monastery,[1326] died during the Easter festival.[1327] The news was brought to the King, seemingly while the Witan were, as usual, in session at |Æthelsige receives the abbatial benediction from Stigand. May 26, 1061.| Winchester. The royal choice fell on Æthelsige, a monk of the New Minster. He, we are told, followed Archbishop Stigand, and was by him hallowed as Abbot on the day of the patron of his house. The ceremony was performed at Windsor, a royal seat of which this is one of our earliest notices.[1328] It would perhaps have been a strong measure for Æthelsige altogether to refuse the ministrations of one who was doubly his diocesan, alike as a monk of New Minster and as Abbot of Saint Augustine’s. Moreover, the benediction of an Abbot was not a matter of the same spiritual importance as the consecration of a Bishop. It was an edifying ceremony, but it was not a sacramental rite. Still, when we remember that Earl Harold himself had chosen another Prelate for his ceremony at Waltham, it shows some independence on the part of Æthelsige thus openly to communicate with the schismatical Primate. His conduct at all events did not lose him the royal favour. At some date between this time and the death of Eadward, Abbot Ælfwine of Ramsey, he who had been ambassador to the Pope and the Cæsar,[1329] resigned his office, and Abbot Æthelsige, without resigning his office at Canterbury, was entrusted with the administration of the great Huntingdonshire monastery.[1330]

Journey to Rome of Ealdred, Tostig, and Gyrth. 1061.

It is not quite clear whether Gisa and Walter made their journey to Rome in company with some still more exalted personages who went on the same road in the course of the same year. The new Metropolitan of the North went to Rome after his pallium,[1331] and with him the Earl of the Northumbrians went as a pilgrim, accompanied by his wife, by his younger brother Gyrth, Earl of the East-Angles, by several noble Thegns from Northumberland, and by Burchard, son of Earl Ælfgar, a companion, it would seem, of Ealdred rather than of Tostig.[1332] Harold, on his pilgrimage, had chosen the route through Gaul, in order to ascertain the strength of the enemy. Tostig, probably starting from the court of his fatherin-law at Bruges, chose to make his journey wholly through those kindred lands with which England was now so closely connected. The Archbishop and the two Earls passed through Saxony and along the upper course of the Rhine, so that, till they reached the Alps, the whole of their course lay over Teutonic soil.[1333] They seem to have found Gisa and Walter already at Rome;[1334] but the three Prelates, besides the personal business which each had with the Pope, are said to have been charged in common with one errand from the King. This was to obtain the Papal confirmation for the privileges of his restored monastery |Papal confirmation of the privileges of Westminster.| at Westminster.[1335] A synod of some kind was sitting, in which the Earl of the Northumbrians was received by Pope Nicolas with marked honours.[1336] The illustrious visitors obtained the Pope’s confirmation for the privileges of the rising minster of Saint Peter, and they returned laden with letters from Nicolas to that effect.[1337] Walter and Gisa obtained without difficulty the consecration which they sought;[1338] but Ealdred was at first not only refused |Ealdred refused the pallium, and deprived of his see.| the pallium which he asked for, but was deprived, so far as a Pope could deprive an English Prelate, of all his preferments.[1339] The ground for this severity was, according to one account, the charge of simony; according to another, it would seem to have been an objection to an uncanonical translation or to the holding of two Bishopricks at once.[1340] At any rate, Ealdred retired in confusion. The whole party now prepared to return to England, but not in one body. Judith and the greater part of the company were sent first, and they reached England without any special adventure. But the Earl, and seemingly all the three Bishops, stayed behind to prosecute the cause of Ealdred.[1341] At last, thinking the matter hopeless, they |Tostig and the Bishops robbed on their way home.| also set out to return home. On their way they were attacked by robbers, seemingly the robber nobles of the country.[1342] The brigands seem to have been specially anxious to seize the person of the Earl of the Northumbrians. A noble youth named Gospatric[1343] said that he was the Earl, and was carried off accordingly. But, after a while, the robbers, admiring his courage and appearance, not only set him free without ransom, but restored to him all that they had taken from him.[1344] The rest returned to the presence of the Pope, with nothing but the clothes on their backs.[1345] Tostig now seems to have mingled threats and entreaties. One account describes the Pope as touched with the desolate condition of the whole party, and as therefore yielding the more readily to Tostig’s petition in favour of Ealdred.[1346] Another version |The Pope yields to the threats of Tostig, and Ealdred receives the pallium.| makes the Earl take a higher tone. If the Pope and his authority were so little cared for in his own neighbourhood, who could be expected to care for his excommunications in distant countries? He was fierce enough towards suppliants, but he seemed able to do nothing against his own rebels. Let him at once cause the property to be restored, which had most likely been seized with his own connivance. If Englishmen underwent such treatment almost under the walls of Rome, the King of the English would certainly withdraw all tribute and payment of every kind from the Roman See. He, Earl Tostig, would take care that the King and his people should know the truth in all its fulness.[1347] This account carries more of the stamp of truth with it than the other more courtly version. At any rate, whether the voice of Tostig was the voice of entreaty or the voice of threatening, to his voice the Pope at last yielded. Ealdred was restored to his Archbishoprick and invested with the pallium, on the single condition of his resigning the see of Worcester.[1348] The losses which the Earl and the Bishops had undergone at the hands of the robbers were made good to them out of the Papal treasury,[1349] and they set forth again on their journey homeward. They must have come back through France, as Burchard died on the way at Rheims. He was there buried in the churchyard of the Abbey of Saint Remigius, a house which his father Ælfgar enriched for his sake.[1350] Ealdred, Tostig, and the rest came back, honoured and rejoicing, to England.

Ill effects of the practice of pilgrimage.

But in this, as in so many other cases, we see the evil effects which followed on this passion for pilgrimages, at least among Kings and Earls and other rulers of men. It was with a true wisdom that the Witan of England had |Malcolm invades Northumberland during the absence of Tostig. 1061.| hindered the proposed pilgrimage of Eadward.[1351] None but the great Cnut could leave his realm with impunity and could keep distant nations in subjection by the mere terror of his name. We have seen what evils were undoubtedly brought upon Normandy by the pilgrimage of Robert; we have seen what lesser evils were probably brought upon England by the pilgrimage of Harold. So now the absence of her Earl, even on so pious a work, brought no good to Northumberland. No doubt the times must have seemed specially secure both at home and abroad, when two of the great Earls of England could venture to leave the Kingdom at the same time, and when Northumberland could be deprived of the care at once of her temporal and of her spiritual chief. Her only dangerous neighbour was bound to Tostig by the closest of artificial ties. But so tempting an opportunity for a raid overcame any scruples which either gratitude or the tie of sworn brotherhood might have suggested to the mind of Malcolm. The King of Scots entered Northumberland; he cruelly ravaged the country, and did not even show reverence to Saint Cuthberht by sparing his holy isle of Lindisfarn.[1352] We have no further details. Neither do we hear whether Tostig took any sort of vengeance for this seemingly quite unprovoked injury. We hear nothing more of Scottish affairs during the remaining years of the reign of Eadward.

It always marks a season of comparative quiet when our attention is chiefly occupied by ecclesiastical affairs. During four whole years Malcolm’s raid into Northumberland is the only political or military event which |1062.| we have to record. We now enter on the last year of |Vacancy of the See of Worcester.| this time of quiet. In the year following the pilgrimage of Tostig, Ealdred having at last resigned the see of Worcester, a successor had to be chosen. England was at that moment blessed or cursed with visitors of a kind who, to say the least, did not in those days often reach her |Papal Legates in England. Lent, 1062.| shores, namely Legates from the Roman See. Pope Nicolas died soon after the visit of Ealdred and Tostig, and was succeeded by Alexander the Second, a name afterwards to become only too well known in English history. By commission from this Pontiff, Ermenfrid, Bishop of Sitten, and a nameless colleague, came to England early in the year. It is clear that their errand was in some way connected with the appointment to the see of Worcester, besides any other matters with which they may have been charged for the enlightenment of the King’s private conscience or for the forwarding of his foundation at Westminster.[1353] Possibly their personal presence was thought necessary in order to ensure the surrender by Ealdred of a Bishoprick to which he clave with special affection.[1354] At any rate it was Ealdred who received the Legates, who conducted them on their journey through a great part of England, and who at last quartered them at Worcester, under the care of Wulfstan, the holy Prior of that church.[1355] There they were to remain through Lent, waiting for the Easter Gemót, in which the King and his Witan were to decide on all the matters which had brought Ealdred doubtful between Æthelwig and Wulfstan. |Ealdred doubtful between Æthelwig and Wulfstan.| them to England.[1356] With regard to the succession to this see of Worcester, Ealdred was for a while doubtful between two candidates. One was Æthelwig, now Abbot of Evesham, who had so long acted as his deputy in the administration of the Hwiccian diocese.[1357] This Prelate is described
as a man of noble birth and of consummate prudence in all matters human, some add in matters divine also.[1358] One paossession of a see which he had so long administered, and wrt at least of his character was not belied by his actions. We shall find that he lived in high favour equally under Eadward, Harold, and William, and died in full possession of his Abbey eleven years after the Conquest.[1359] He was not unnaturally anxious to succeed to the full possession of a see which he had so long administered, and with whose affairs he must have been thoroughly conversant.[1360] Ealdred himself doubted for a while whether the see would be more safely entrusted to the worldly wisdom of Æthelwig or to the simple piety of Wulfstan the Prior.[1361] |Wulfstan [Prior and] Bishop of Worcester. Sept. 8, 1062–Jan. 18, 1095. Born about 1012. His life and character.| Wulfstan, the friend of Harold, was a man now of about fifty years of age.[1362] He was the son of Æthelstan,[1363] a Thegn of Warwickshire, and his wife Wulfgifu, and he must have been born among the horrors of the later years of Æthelred. Brought up, not as a monk, but as a secular student, in the Abbey of Peterborough, he made great proficiency in the learning of the time under a master whose name Ervenius seems to imply a foreign origin.[1364] His parents, as they grew old, took monastic vows by mutual consent, but Wulfstan for some while lived as a layman, distinguished for his success in bodily exercises as well as for his virtuous and pious demeanour. His chastity especially was preserved unsullied under unusually severe trials.[1365] At last, when he still could not have been above twenty-six years old,[1366] he received ordination as a Presbyter at the |1033–1038.| hands of Brihtheah, Bishop of Worcester. This was somewhat against his own will, as he shrank from the responsibilities of the priesthood. The friendly Prelate vainly pressed on him a good secular living in the neighbourhood of the city.[1367] But the determination of Wulfstan was fixed, and Brihtheah had soon to admit him as a monk of the cathedral monastery, where, after a while, he was promoted by Ealdred to the rank of Prior.[1368] Here he distinguished himself by every monastic perfection; he was eminent as a preacher, and it is still more interesting to read of his habit of going through the country to baptize the children of the poor, to whom—so our monastic informants tell us—the greedy secular clergy refused the first sacrament except on payment of a fee.[1369] The virtues of Wulfstan attracted the notice of many of the great men of the realm. The famous Godgifu, the wife of Leofric, was his devoted admirer.[1370] But the same virtues gained him a still nobler and more powerful votary; he became, as we have seen, the special friend of Earl Harold.[1371] Ealdred now hesitated between Wulfstan and Æthelwig as his successor at Worcester. The King, we are told, was determined that the see should be filled by a canonical election, which however of course did not exclude the right of the Witan to confirm or to reject the choice of the ecclesiastical electors. The Papal Legates soon discerned the virtues of Wulfstan, and became eager on his behalf. They spent their Lent in efforts to secure his election, especially in exhortations to the clergy and people of Worcester, an expression which may perhaps show that something of the ancient popular character of |Wulfstan elected Bishop.| episcopal elections still lingered on.[1372] But whoever were the electors, Wulfstan was elected, and the choice of the local body came before the Witan of the realm for confirmation. The Legates appeared before the Gemót; the diplomacy of the time doubtless required that their business with the King should not be decided without the national approval. The succession to the see of Worcester came on among the other business of the Assembly, and the Legates themselves took on |His election approved by the Witan, Easter, 1062.| them to speak on behalf of the holy Prior.[1373] Not a voice was raised in opposition; every speaker bore his testimony to the incomparable merits of Wulfstan. Both Archbishops, Stigand and Ealdred, spoke in his favour; so did Ælfgar, the Earl of the province, and Wulfstan’s personal friend Earl Harold.[1374] The approval of the Gemót was unanimous. The only difficulty was to be found in the unwillingness of Wulfstan himself to take upon him the cares and responsibilities of the episcopal office. As soon as the vote was given, messengers were sent to ride at full speed to Worcester, and to bring the Prior in person before the Assembly. Wulfstan obeyed the summons, but, amid general shouts of dissent, he pleaded his unfitness for the vacant office.[1375] He declared, even with an oath, that he had rather lose his head than become a Bishop.[1376] His scruples were at last shaken by the Legates and the Archbishops, who pleaded the duty of obedience to the Holy See, and finally by the exhortations and reproofs of a holy anchorite named Wulfsige, who had been for forty years removed from the society of men.[1377] But the process of persuasion in the mind of Wulfstan was evidently a long one. The formalities of his ecclesiastical confirmation and of the final rite of consecration were not completed till the month of September. One is half disappointed to read that he refused the ministrations of Stigand, and sought for consecration at the hands of Ealdred. The distinct Roman influence, embodied in the persons of Roman Legates, doubtless taught Wulfstan that Stigand was a schismatic. Ermenfrid and his colleague seem even to have been the bearers of a distinct Papal |Wulfstan makes canonical profession to Stigand, but is consecrated by Ealdred.| decree of suspension against the Archbishop. Wulfstan however drew a distinction, which the facts of the case amply bore out. Stigand, whether canonically appointed or not, was, in law and in fact, Archbishop of Canterbury. The Bishop-elect therefore did not scruple to make his profession of canonical obedience to him.[1378] He did not scruple thus far to recognize the legal primacy of an Archbishop appointed by the King and Witan of England. It was only the sacramental rite of consecration which he sought at the hands of a Primate whose canonical position |Wulfstan is consecrated by Ealdred. Sept. 8, 1062.| was open to no cavil. For this he went to the newly appointed Metropolitan of Northumberland, and was consecrated by him at York. Ealdred had however to declare, perhaps before the assembled Witan,[1379] that he claimed no authority, ecclesiastical or temporal, over the Bishop of Worcester, either on the ground of his having been consecrated by him or on that of his having formerly been a monk under his obedience.[1380] Scandal however added that Ealdred contrived to attach a large portion of the estates of the see of Worcester to his own Archbishoprick.[1381]

The King’s Charter to Waltham. Easter? 1062.

The other ecclesiastical event of this purely ecclesiastical year has been mentioned already. Earl Harold’s minster at Waltham had been consecrated two years earlier. By this time he had settled the details of his foundation and of its endowments. His gifts and regulations were now confirmed in due form by a royal charter.[1382] As the signature of Wulfstan is not attached to the document, we may suppose that the charter was granted in the same Easter |Ælfwig, Abbot of New Minster. 1063.| Gemót in which Wulfstan’s election was approved. And one more ecclesiastical appointment must, at some slight sacrifice of chronological order, be recorded in this section. In the following year it seems that Harold procured the appointment of a near kinsman, seemingly a brother of his renowned father, to the office of Abbot of the New Minster at Winchester, the great house raised by Eadward the Unconquered in memory of his father Ælfred. It seems strange that a brother of Godwine, if he desired preferment at all, should have had to wait for it so long. But such seems to have been the case, and the name of the new Prelate, Abbot Ælfwig, the uncle of King Harold, will be met with again in the very crisis of our history.[1383]

§ 2. The Welsh War and its Consequences. 1062–1065.

Renewed ravages of Gruffydd. 1062.

But the year of this last appointment, or rather the last days of the year of the consecration of Wulfstan, carries us at once among scenes of a widely different kind from ecclesiastical ceremonies at Rome, York, Waltham, or Winchester. The peace of the land is again threatened, and the great Earl of the West-Saxons again stands forth as the one champion in whose hands England could trust her destinies. In the course of the year of Wulfstan’s consecration the ravages of Gruffydd of Wales seem to have begun again with increased fury. He entered the diocese of the new Prelate, and seems to have carried his arms even beyond the Severn,[1384] renewing his earlier exploit of Rhyd-y-Groes. |Witenagemót of Gloucester. Christmas, 1062–1063.| The damage which he had done to the English territory, and the insults which he had thus offered to his lord King Eadward, formed the main subject of discussion at the Christmas Gemót, which was held as usual at Gloucester.[1385] It is to be noticed that we now hear |Death of Ælfgar of Mercia; his son Eadwine succeeds. 1062?| nothing of Gruffydd’s old ally and father-in-law, Earl Ælfgar. His last recorded acts are the peaceful ones of recommending Wulfstan for the Bishoprick of Worcester and of signing the Waltham charter. Two years later we find his son Eadwine in possession of his Earldom. It is therefore not improbable that he died about this time, and the appointment of Eadwine is not unlikely to have taken place in this very Christmas Gemót. But it is certain that Ælfgar, if living, was not deemed trustworthy enough to be commissioned to act against his old ally; nor was his young successor, if he were dead, deemed fit to grapple with so dangerous an enemy, one against whom it was now determined to strike a decisive blow. The ravages of Gruffydd had probably again fallen heavy upon Herefordshire, and Herefordshire was now under the government of Harold. But it was doubtless not as Earl of this or that Earldom, but as the first man of the Kingdom, as something like an elected Ætheling, that Harold now undertook to rid England once for all of this ever recurring |Harold’s march to Rhuddlan. Christmas, 1062–1063.| plague. Notwithstanding, perhaps because of, the time of the year, it was determined to strike a sudden blow, in the hope of seizing or putting to death the turbulent under-King. Harold set forth with a small force, all mounted, therefore probably all of them Housecarls,[1386] and hastened with all possible speed to Rhuddlan on the |1283.| north-east frontier of Wales. The spot is famous in our history as the seat of a Parliament of the great Edward, and its military position is important, as standing at no great distance from the sea, and commanding the vale of Clwyd, the southern Strathclyde. There Gruffydd had a palace, the rude precursor no doubt of the stately castle whose remains now form the chief attraction of Rhuddlan. The Welsh King heard of the approach of the English; he had just time to reach the shore and to escape by sea. Earl Harold was close in pursuit, and the escape of Gruffydd was a narrow one; but he did escape, and the main object of this sudden expedition was thwarted. Harold’s force was not strong enough to endure a long winter campaign in so wild a country; so he contented himself with burning the palace and the ships which were in the haven. The same day on which this destruction was done, he set out on his return march to Gloucester.[1387]

Harold’s great campaign of 1063.

Harold’s attempt at a sudden blow had thus, through an unavoidable accident, been unsuccessful. It was therefore determined to open a campaign on a great scale, which should crush the power of Gruffydd for ever. It was in this campaign that the world first fully learned how great a captain England possessed in her future King. Never was a campaign more ably planned or more vigorously |Its permanent effect on men’s minds.| executed. The deep impression which it made on men’s minds is shown by the way in which it is spoken of by writers who lived a hundred years later, when men had long been taught to look on Harold and his house as |Testimony of John of Salisbury and Giraldus Cambrensis.| a brood of traitors and perjurers. John of Salisbury, writing under the Angevin Henry, chooses this campaign of Harold’s as the most speaking example of the all-important difference between a good general and a bad one. The name of Harold could of course not be uttered without some of the usual disparaging epithets, but he allows that the faithless usurper was a model of every princely and soldier-like excellence.[1388] He compares the days of Harold with his own, and wishes that England had captains like him to drive back the marauders who, in his own time, harried her borders with impunity.[1389] Another writer of the same age, the famous Giraldus, attributes to this campaign of Harold the security which England enjoyed on the side of the Welsh during the reigns of the three Norman Kings.[1390] These two writers, evidently speaking quite independently of each other, give us several details of the campaign. These are fully confirmed by the witness of Eadward’s Biographer, and all their accounts fit without difficulty into the more general narrative given by the Chroniclers.

Harold and Tostig invade Wales. May 26, 1063.

The campaign opened in the last days of May. Its general plan was a combined attack on the Welsh territory from both sides. Harold sailed with a fleet from Bristol, the haven from which he had set sail on so different an errand twelve years before; Tostig set forth with a mounted land force from Northumberland.[1391] The brothers met, probably at some point of central Wales, and began a systematic ravaging of the country. The military genius of Harold was now conspicuously shown in the way in which he adapted himself to the kind of warfare which he had to wage. Nothing could be better suited than the ancient English tactics for a pitched battle with an equal enemy. But here there was no hope or fear of pitched battles, and the enemy to be dealt with was one whose warfare was of a very different kind. The English Housecarls, with their heavy coats of mail and huge battle-axes, were eminently unfitted to pursue a light-armed and active foe through the hills and valleys of Wales. Ralph the Timid had brought himself and his army to discomfiture by compelling his Englishmen suddenly to adopt the tactics of France;[1392] the valiant |Harold adopts the Welsh tactics.| Earl of the West-Saxons proved his true generalship by teaching his army to accustom themselves to the tactics and the fare[1393] of Welshmen. The irregular English troops, the fyrd, the levies of the shires, did not differ very widely from the Welsh mode of fighting. But it is not likely that Harold would enter on such a campaign as this without the help of at least a strong body of tried and regular soldiers. We must therefore conclude that Harold actually required his Housecarls to follow the tactics suitable to the country. They gave up the close array of the shield-wall; they laid aside their axes and coats of mail; clothed in leathern jerkins, they retained their swords, but they were to trust mainly to the nimble and skilful use of the |Harold ravages and subdues all Wales.| javelin for attack and of the shield for defence.[1394] Thus attired, the English, under their great leader, proved more than a match for the Welsh at their own weapons. Unhappily we have no geographical details of the campaign, but we have a vivid picture of its general nature, and we can see that it must have extended over a large portion of the country. There were no pitched battles; but the English, in their new array, everywhere contended with success against the enemy. Every defensible spot of ground was stoutly contested by the Britons; but even the most inaccessible mountain fastnesses proved no safeguard against the energy of Harold.[1395] He won skirmish after skirmish, and each scene of conflict was marked, we are told, by a trophy of stone, bearing the proud legend, “Here Harold conquered.”[1396] Such a warfare was necessarily merciless. The object was to reduce the Welsh to complete submission, to disable them from ever again renewing their old ravages. Harold was fighting too with an enemy who knew not what mercy was, who gave no quarter, who, if they ever took a prisoner, instead of putting him to ransom, cut off his head.[1397] We are not therefore surprised to hear that every male who resisted was put to the sword.[1398] One of our informants is even driven to the rhetoric of the East to express the greatness of the slaughter.[1399] Such |The Welsh submit.| terrible execution soon[1400] broke the spirit of the Welsh. They submitted and gave hostages, they bound themselves to tribute, and pronounced sentence of deposition and outlawry upon Gruffydd.[1401] The King who had reigned over all the Welsh kin,[1402] the warrior who had been hitherto |Gruffydd murdered by his own people. Aug. 5, 1063.| invincible, the head and shield and defender of Britons,[1403] was now thoroughly hated by his own people. The war and its results were laid upon him as a crime,[1404] though we cannot doubt that, in the days of success, the Welsh people had been as eager as their King to carry spoil and slaughter along the Saxon border. But now outlawry was not a doom hard enough for the fallen prince; death alone was the fitting punishment for his crimes. In the month of August in this year, Gruffydd the son of Llywelyn, the last victorious hero of the old Cymrian stock, the last British chief whose name was really terrible in Saxon ears, was put to death by men of his own race, and his head was sent to the conqueror.[1405]

The Welsh kingdom granted to Bleddyn and Rhiwallon.

In this crime Harold had no share. He had been merciless as long as resistance lasted, but as soon as the foe submitted, he displayed the same politic and generous lenity which he always displayed towards both foreign and domestic enemies. The head of Gruffydd and the beak of his ship[1406] were brought as trophies to King Eadward. His kingdom was granted to his two brothers or kinsmen, Bleddyn and Rhiwallon,[1407] who received the land as under-Kings of the English Emperor. They swore oaths and gave hostages to King Eadward, and to Earl Harold, seemingly as his destined successor.[1408] They engaged also to pay the tribute which had been accustomed in past times, but which, we may be sure, had been very irregularly paid in the days of Gruffydd.[1409]

Legislation about Wales.

Two pieces of legislation are said to have followed the conquest of Wales. Harold is said to have ordained that any Welshman found in arms on the English side of Offa’s Dyke should lose his right hand.[1410] If this was anything more than a temporary military regulation, Harold’s ordaining it can only mean that it was he who proposed the enactment to the Witan. The other decree is attributed to the special indulgence of Eadward himself. The slaughter of the male population of Wales had been so great that there was no chance of the widows and daughters of the slain finding husbands among their own people. Lest the whole race should die out, the King allowed them to marry Englishmen, which we must infer had hitherto been unlawful.[1411] Stories like these must be taken at what they are worth. Though coming from the same source, they do not bear about them the same stamp of truth as the military details of the campaign.

Harold marries Ealdgyth. 1064?

If any law was now passed authorizing the marriage of Englishmen and Welshwomen, the greatest of living Englishmen was not slow to take advantage of it, so far as it could be considered as extending to an Englishwoman who had become Welsh by adoption. We have now reached a year which stands bare of events in the Chronicles. It may have been the year of Harold’s fatal visit to Normandy; it can hardly fail to have been the year of his marriage. There is nothing to imply that the great Earl had ever been married before. Putting together such indications as we have, it seems that Harold’s connexion with his East-Anglian mistress Eadgyth Swanneshals, if it still existed, now came to an end.[1412] The bride of Harold was in some sense the prize of his own sword and spear. The fallen Gruffydd had once, like eastern Kings, taken the wife of a conquered enemy to be his wife.[1413] Her successor, now in her present widowhood, met, willingly or unwillingly, with the like fate. The fair Ealdgyth, the daughter of Ælfgar, the sister of Eadwine, the widow of Gruffydd, became the wife of the rival of her father, the conqueror of her husband. Harold’s enemies are of course scandalized at a marriage between Harold and the widow of a man of whom they choose to call him the murderer.[1414] But it is hard to see any objection to the union, except the possible wrong done to the forsaken Eadgyth. Of the circumstances we know nothing. Ealdgyth may, like an earlier namesake in a somewhat similar case,[1415] have inspired her conqueror with |The marriage probably a political one.| a sudden passion. But it is far more likely that Harold’s marriage was a sacrifice of love to policy, and that his main object was to win to his side the interest of the great Mercian house which had stood so long in rivalry against himself and his father. Harold in short, with a Crown in prospect, acted after the manner of crowned heads. Eadgyth was perhaps forsaken, Ealdgyth was almost certainly married, in order to secure Mercian votes in the Gemót which should finally dispose of the Kingdom. Harold doubtless flattered himself that by this marriage he had extended his influence over the whole Kingdom. He himself ruled in Wessex; one brother ruled in Northumberland, another in East-Anglia, another in the South-Eastern shires. And now the one remaining Earldom was in the hands of the brother of his wife. But, as events turned out, Harold would have done better to cleave to his earlier and humbler love, whose love for him survived desertion and death. He gained little by seeking political support in an union with the widow of a foe and the sister of a traitor. Of Ealdgyth personally we know hardly anything;[1416] but we know what her brothers were, and, when the day of trial came, she seems to have sided with her brothers rather than with her husband.

Wales was thus, to all appearance, thoroughly conquered. North Wales, the original Kingdom of Gruffydd, seems to have remained fairly quiet; but elements of disturbance still lingered in the South. King Eadward was growing old, but he still retained his love of hunting, and a new field seemed to be opened for the royal sport in the wild lands which had been lately brought into fuller |Harold builds a hunting-seat at Portskewet. August 1, 1065.| subjection to the royal authority. In the low lands of Gwent, near one of the usual places of crossing the mouth of the Severn from England into Wales, the Earl chose out a place called Porth-iscoed or Portskewet as well suited for his sovereign’s diversions.[1417] One of the great Gemóts of each year was now so regularly held at Gloucester that a place at no very great distance from that city might seem well convenient for the purpose. But besides this, it was an obvious policy thus to take seizin, as it were, of the conquered lands, and to show to their inhabitants that the English Emperor was to be for the future a really present master. At Portskewet then Earl Harold began to build a house, and he had gathered together a large number of workmen and an abundant store of provisions and other good things. We see how thoroughly subdued the whole country was held to be, even this corner which did not belong to the immediate realm of the conquered Gruffydd, and which is not likely to have been the actual seat of warfare. It shows also the half-kingly position of Harold that he is described as acting in this way in a district not belonging to his own Earldom, but included in the dominions of a vassal prince. We do not read that Eadward ordered the building of the house; it seems rather like a voluntary act of Harold’s own, rising out of his personal consideration for his royal brother-in-law’s pleasure. Nor do we hear anything of discontent on the part of the newly appointed princes of the country. But there was one to whom a Saxon settlement on the soil of Gwent was far more irksome than it |Caradoc son of Gruffydd of South Wales kills the workmen. August 24, 1065.| could be to any prince of Powys or Gwynedd. A disinherited and dispossessed chieftain still looked on the land as his own, and probably deemed Harold and Bleddyn to be equally intruders. This was Caradoc ap Gruffydd, the son of that Gruffydd of South Wales who had been slain, and his Kingdom seized, by the more famous Gruffydd whose career had so lately come to an end.[1418] According to one account, he had been himself outlawed by order of Harold.[1419] At any rate, the sight of the palace of the English overlord, rising in a district which had once been his father’s, rankled in his soul. He gathered as large a band as he could, he came suddenly on the unfinished building, he slew nearly all the workmen, and carried off all the good things which had been provided for them and for the King.[1420] Such a raid was doubtless common in the desolating border warfare which was ever going on between the English and Welsh, but it is clear that a special political importance attached to this act of Caradoc. One of the Chroniclers adds significantly, “We know not who this ill counsel first devised.”[1421] These words, taken with a fact which we shall have presently to speak of, may perhaps suggest the idea that this lesser disturbance in South Wales was not without connexion with the more important events in England which presently followed it.

§ 3. The Revolt of Northumberland. 1065.

If Eadward or Harold made any preparations to avenge the insult offered by Caradoc to the Imperial authority, their attention was soon called off from that corner of the Empire to a far greater movement in the Earldom of |Oppression of Tostig in Northumberland.| Northumberland. However righteous may have been the intentions with which Tostig set out, however needful a wholesome severity may have been in the then state of his province, it is clear that his government had by this time degenerated into an insupportable tyranny. This is not uncommonly the case with men of his disposition, a disposition evidently harsh, obstinate, and impatient of opposition. Rigid justice, untempered by mercy, easily |Revolt of the Northhumbrians against him. October 3, 1065.| changes into oppression. The whole province rose against him. His apologist tries to represent the leaders of the movement as wrong-doers whom the Earl’s strict justice had chastised or offended.[1422] Such may well have been the case, but the long list of grievances put forth by the Northumbrians, though it may easily have been exaggerated, |Charges against Tostig.| cannot have been wholly invented. He had robbed God;[1423] elsewhere Tostig bears a high reputation for piety, and, in any case, the charge must be taken with the same allowance as the like charges against his brother. But he had also robbed many men of land and of life,[1424] he had raised up unjust law,[1425] and had laid on the Earldom a tax wholly beyond its means to bear.[1426] A list of particular |Murder of Gamel and Ulf. 1064.| crimes is added. Two Thegns, Gamel the son of Orm and Ulf the son of Dolfin, had, in the course of the last year, been received in the Earl’s chamber under pretence of peace, and had been there treacherously slain by his order.[1427] That is to say, Tostig had repeated one of the worst deeds of Harthacnut,[1428] and of Cnut himself before his reformation.[1429] These men may have been criminals; Tostig may have persuaded himself that he was simply doing an act of irregular justice in thus destroying men who were perhaps too powerful to be reached by the ordinary course of law. But, whatever were the crimes of Ulf and Gamel, Tostig, by this act, degraded himself to their level. If even the most guilty were to be cut off in such a way as this, even the most innocent could not feel themselves safe. Another charge aimed yet higher than the Earl himself. An accomplice of his misdeeds is spoken of, whom we should certainly never have been expected to find charged with |Murder of Gospatric. December 28, 1064.| bloodshed. A Thegn named Gospatric had been, at the last Christmas Gemót, treacherously murdered in the King’s court. The deed was said to have been done by order of the Lady at the instigation of her brother.[1430] As there were other bearers of the name, we may at least hope that this Gospatric was not the one who had so nobly jeoparded his life to save the life of Tostig on his return from his Roman pilgrimage.[1431] To avenge these crimes, the chief men of both divisions of Northumberland, at the head of the whole force of Bernicia and Deira,[1432] rose in arms.[1433] |Rebel Gemót at York. October 3, 1065.| Soon after Michaelmas, two hundred Thegns[1434] came to York, and there held what they evidently intended to be a Gemót of the ancient Kingdom of Northumberland. They were headed by several of the greatest men of Northern England, by Gamel-bearn, doubtless a kinsman of the slain son of Orm, by Dunstan the son of Æthelnoth, and Glonieorn the son of Heardulf.[1435] The names seem to show that both English and Danish blood was represented in the Assembly. Tostig was now absent from his Earldom; he was engaged with the King in his constant diversion of hunting, in some of the forests of Wiltshire or Hampshire.[1436] But the rebels needed not his presence, and they began at once to pass decrees in utter defiance of the royal authority. |Constitutional position of Northumberland.| Earls had hitherto always been appointed and removed by the King and his Witan, and any complaints of the Northumbrians against Tostig ought legally to have been brought before a Gemót of the whole realm. But nowhere was the feeling of provincial independence so strong as in the lands north of the Humber. The Northumbrians remembered that there had been a time when they had chosen and deposed Kings for themselves, without any reference to a West-Saxon overlord. The West-Saxon King was now no longer an overlord, but an immediate sovereign; Northumberland was no longer a dependency, but an integral part of the Kingdom; the men of Deira and Bernicia shared every right which was enjoyed by the men of Wessex and East-Anglia. But the old feelings still lingered on, and they were probably heightened by the constant absence of the King and even of his lieutenant. Eadward had never shown himself further north than Gloucester, or possibly Shrewsbury;[1437] there is no record of any Gemót of his reign being held at York or Lincoln. |Frequent absence of Tostig.| And the frequent absences of Tostig, whom Eadward loved to have about him, are clearly implied to have been reckoned among the grievances of his province.[1438] While he was busied in the frivolities of Eadward’s court, the care of |Copsige, deputy Earl.| Northumberland was entrusted to a Thegn of the country, Copsige by name. He is described as a prudent man and a benefactor to the Church of Durham. It does not appear how far he now shared the unpopularity of his master, but it is certain that, at a later time, he incurred equal unpopularity by his own acts. He seems afterwards to have borne the title of Earl,[1439] and it is possible that he may even have borne it now as Tostig’s deputy. This systematic government by proxy was no doubt highly offensive to Northumbrian local patriotism. It was, in a marked way, dealing with the land as a mere dependency. The Danes of the North were indignant that their ancient realm should be deemed unworthy of the presence, not only of the King but of its own Earl. They had no mind to be governed by orders sent forth from some West-Saxon town or hunting-seat. The Northumbrians therefore, without presence or licence of King or Earl, took upon them to hold a Gemót, doubtless an armed Gemót, of the revolted lands.

Acts of the Gemót at York. October 3, 1065.

The Assembly thus irregularly got together did not indeed venture on the extreme step of renouncing all allegiance to the King of the English. But everything short of this extreme step was quickly done. The Merciless Parliament of later days could not surpass this Northhumbrian Gemót in violent or in blood-thirsty decrees. |Vote of deposition and outlawry against Tostig. Morkere elected Earl.| The rebels passed a vote of deposition against their Earl Tostig; they declared him an outlaw,[1440] and elected in his place Morkere, the younger son of Ælfgar of Mercia.[1441] Waltheof, the son of Siward, was passed by, and they may have felt the danger of the rivalries which were sure to arise if they chose one of the ordinary Thegns of the country.[1442] Still the election of Morkere, and the whole circumstances of the story, seem to show that, along with the real grievances of Northumberland, the intrigues of the Mercian brothers had a good deal to do with the stirring up of this revolt. The old rivalry between the houses of Godwine and Leofric had now taken the form of a special enmity between Tostig and the sons of Ælfgar.[1443] The marriage of Ealdgyth with Harold doubtless protected her husband from any open hostility on the part of her brothers, though it certainly did not save him from their |Treasons of Eadwine.| secret cabals. Eadwine, in short, was now entering on that series of treasons which he had, within a very few years, the opportunity of practising against four sovereigns in succession. Eadward, Harold, Eadgar, and William all found in turn that no trust was to be put in the allegiance or the oaths of the Earl of the Mercians. The treasons of Eadwine were often passive rather than active; they never reached the height of personal betrayal; otherwise the last Mercian Earl was no unworthy representative of his predecessors |His policy; the division of the Kingdom.| Ælfric and Eadric. Still the policy of the sons of Ælfgar was at any rate more intelligible than the policy of the arch-traitor. Their object evidently was to revive the old division of the Kingdom, as it had been divided between Cnut and Eadmund, or between Harold and Harthacnut. When the death of Eadward should leave the throne vacant, they were ready to leave Wessex, and probably East-Anglia, to any one who could get them, but Mercia and Northumberland were to form a separate realm under the house of Leofric. This view of their policy explains all their later actions. They dreamed of dividing the Kingdom with Harold; they dreamed of dividing it with Eadgar; they even dreamed, one can hardly doubt, of dividing it with William himself. They were ready enough to accept West-Saxon help in their own hour of need, but they would not strike a blow on behalf of Wessex in her greatest extremity. The present movement in Northumberland, above all the election of Morkere to the Earldom, exactly suited their purposes. It was more than the mere exaltation of one of the brothers; it was more than the transfer of one of the great divisions of the Kingdom from the house of Godwine to the house of Leofric. The whole land from the Thames to the Tweed was now united under the rule of the two brothers. There was now a much fairer hope of changing the northern and central Earldoms into a separate Kingdom, as soon as a vacancy of the throne should occur. When therefore the Northumbrians sent for Morkere, offering him their Earldom, he gladly accepted the offer. He took into his own hands the government of Deira, or, as it is now beginning |Oswulf in Bernicia.| to be called, Yorkshire. But he entrusted the government of the Northern province, the old Bernicia, now beginning to be distinctively called Northumberland,[1444] to the young Oswulf, the son of Siward’s victim Eadwulf.[1445] We have no account of the motives of this appointment. It may have been a condition of Morkere’s election; it may have been a popular act done of his own accord. But in either case this appointment seems to show that the Northumbrians bore no special love to Siward or his house, but that they rather looked with affection on the more direct representative of their ancient Earls. Oswulf is spoken of as a youth at this time, but as it was now |1041.| twenty-four years since the murder of his father, he must have been a grown man. Waltheof, the son of Siward, so |1067.| eminent only two years later, could not have been much younger. If Siward’s memory had been at all popular in Northumberland, Waltheof, rather than Oswulf, would surely have been chosen for this important subordinate government, even if it was not thought proper to entrust him with the command of the whole of the ancient Kingdom.

Thus far the Northumbrian Assembly, however irregularly called together, had acted in something like the character of a lawful Gemót. To depose and elect an Earl was a stretch of power beyond the constitutional authority of a local Gemót; still the unconstitutional character of the act consisted solely in the Gemót of a single Earldom taking upon itself functions which lawfully belonged only to a Gemót of the whole Kingdom. But the Thegns who were assembled at York went on to acts which showed that, however guilty Tostig may have been, they at least had small right to throw stones at him. Slaughter and plunder were soon shown to be quite as much their objects as the redress of grievances or the punishment of offenders. |The Northumbrians slay Amund and Ravenswart. October 3.| On Monday, the first day of the Assembly, two of Tostig’s Danish Housecarls, Amund and Reavenswart, who had fled from York, were overtaken, and were put to death without the walls of the city.[1446] How far these men deserved their doom, how far their doom was the sentence of anything which even pretended to be a lawful tribunal, we have no |General massacre of Tostig’s followers, and plunder of his treasury. October 4.| means of knowing. But it is hardly possible that there can have been even the shadow of lawful authority for the acts of the next day. As many of Tostig’s personal followers, English and Danish, as could be found, two hundred in number, were massacred.[1447] The Earl’s treasury was next broken open, and all its contents, weapons, gold, silver, and other precious things, were carried off. This may have been a rough and ready way of repaying themselves for the unjust tax of which they complained; otherwise any notion of policy would rather have bidden them to hand over the treasures of their enemy untouched to the chief whom they had themselves chosen.[1448]

Morkere’s march southwards.

The real character of the revolt, as far at least as the sons of Ælfgar were concerned, soon showed itself. Morkere did not sit down quietly to reign in Northumberland; he does not seem to have even demanded the consent of the King and of the national Witan to his usurpation. He at once marched southwards. On his march he was joined by the men of the shires of Lincoln, Nottingham, and Derby.[1449] These were districts in which the Danish element was strong, especially in their three chief towns, which |Morkere at Northampton.| were reckoned among the famous Five Boroughs.[1450] At the head of this force he reached Northampton. This town was probably chosen as the head-quarters of the rebels, as being, like Northumberland itself, under the government of Tostig. Whatever were their designs as to the Earldoms of Northampton and Huntingdon, it was in any case important to win over their inhabitants to the cause of the revolt. At Northampton Morkere was met by his brother Eadwine, at the head of the men of his |Presence of Welshmen in Eadwine’s army.| Earldom, together with a large body of Welsh.[1451] Were these last simply drawn thither by the chance of plunder? Were they followers of the last Gruffydd, faithful to the old connexion between Ælfgar and their slain King? Or are we to see something deeper in the matter? It may well be that the movement in Gwent and the movement in Northumberland were both of them parts of one scheme devised in the restless brain of the Mercian Earl. The way in which one event followed on the other, the significant remark made by the Chronicler on the deed of Caradoc,[1452] the suspicious appearance of Welshmen in the train of Eadwine, all look the same way. Caradoc and Gamel-bearn are not likely to have had any direct communication with one another; but it is quite possible that both of them may have been little more than puppets moved by a single hand. At all events, a great force, Northumbrian, Mercian, and Welsh, was now gathered |Ravages of the Northumbrians about Northampton.| together at Northampton. The Northumbrians were in what they doubtless expected to be a friendly country, but it would seem that they found the men of Northamptonshire and Huntingdonshire less zealous in the cause than they had hoped. At least we find that Morkere’s Northern followers dealt with the country about Northampton as if it had been the country of an enemy. They slew men, burned corn and houses, carried off cattle, and at last led captive several hundred prisoners, seemingly as slaves.[1453] The blow was so severe that it was remembered even when one would have thought that that and all other lesser wrongs would have been forgotten in the general overthrow of England. Northamptonshire and the shires near to it were for many winters the worse.[1454]

Harold carries messages from the King to the insurgents.

It seems to have been at Northampton that the first attempts at negotiation began between the King and the insurgents.[1455] Eadward and Tostig were still in their woodland retreats, enjoying the slaughter of unresisting animals, while half England was in confusion, and while whole shires were being laid waste. The Earl of the West-Saxons was most likely as keen a hunter as either of them, but he at least did not let his sport interfere with his duty to his country. While his brother and brother-in-law still remained in the woods, Earl Harold hastened to Northampton with a message from the King. Eadward, who had once been so wrathful at Godwine’s appeal to Law on behalf of the men of Dover,[1456] had now, under Harold’s guidance, better learned the duties of a constitutional |Demands of Eadward.| King. Through the mouth of the great Earl, he called on the men of Northumberland to lay down their arms, to cease from their ravages, and, if they had any matter against their own Earl, to bring it forward for discussion in a lawful Assembly. We may conceive the feeling of triumph with which Harold put into the King’s mouth the very words which, in the mouth of Godwine, had led to the temporary overthrow of himself and his house. But |Answer of the Northumbrians.| the Northumbrians would not yield to any proposal which implied even the possibility of Tostig’s return to power. They were freemen born and bred, they would not bow to the pride of any Earl;[1457] they had learned from their fathers to bear no third choice besides freedom or death. If the King wished to retain Northumberland in his allegiance, he must confirm the banishment of Tostig from Northumberland and from all England, he must confirm the election of Morkere to the Northern Earldom. If he persisted in forcing Tostig upon them, they would deal with him as an enemy; if he yielded to their demands, he would see what loyal subjects Northumbrians could be, when they were gently ruled by a ruler of their own choice.[1458] Brave words truly, if they really came from the heart of the Northumbrian people, and were not simply put into their mouths by two ambitious Earls. More than one message passed to and fro; messengers from the rebel camp accompanied Harold to the royal presence;[1459] but there was no sign of yielding on the part of the host encamped at Northampton. At last the matter became so serious that Eadward left his hunting to apply himself |Eadward holds a Gemót at Bretford.| personally to the affairs of his Kingdom. At a royal abode called Bretford, near Salisbury, a place whose name suggests memories of the warfare of five hundred years before, Eadward called an Assembly together. It probably professed to be a Witenagemót of the whole realm, but it must rather have been a meeting of the King’s immediate counsellors, or at most, of the local Witan of Wessex. |Debate in the Council; accusations against Tostig.| This Assembly at once proceeded to discuss the state of the nation;[1460] and the record of their debates at least shows what full freedom of speech was allowed in our ancient national Councils. Some speakers boldly accused Tostig of cruelty and avarice; his severities had been caused, not by any love of justice, but by a wish to seize on the wealth |Tostig charges Harold with stirring up the revolt.| of the rich men of Northumberland.[1461] It was affirmed, on the other hand, that the revolt against Tostig had been simply got up by the secret machinations of Harold. No charge could be more unjust, and we may suspect that it was brought forward by no mouth but that of Tostig himself.[1462] Harold throughout tried in vain to reconcile the |Improbability of the charge.| revolters to his brother.[1463] Up to this time there is not the slightest sign in any trustworthy account of any quarrel between the two brothers.[1464] Now that the revolt had broken out, it was undoubtedly Harold’s interest to settle matters without bloodshed, even at the expense of his brother; but he had no interest, but quite the contrary, in stirring up the revolt in the first instance. It was prudent, under the circumstances, to yield to the demands of the Northumbrians, and to allow the aggrandizement of the rival house; but Harold could have no motive for seeking, of his own accord, to transfer Northumberland from a son of Godwine to a son of Ælfgar. But Tostig doubtless expected his brother to support him, right or wrong, at all hazards and against all foes, and he could not understand any cause for Harold’s hesitating so to do except his being art and part with his enemies. Before the King and all his Court, Tostig so vehemently charged Harold with having kindled the Northumbrian revolt, that Harold |Harold denies it on oath.| thought it necessary to deny the charge, in the usual solemn form, upon oath.[1465] It appears that the Earl’s own oath was thought enough, and that compurgators were not called for. But the question how to quell the revolt was still more urgent than the question how the revolt |Eadward’s eagerness for war.| arose. The King was as vehement against the real rebels of Northumberland as he had been, fourteen years before, against the fancied rebels of Dover. He was as eager to avenge the wrongs of his English favourite Tostig as he had then been to avenge the wrongs of his foreign favourite Eustace. He would, doubtless by deputy, chastise their insolence with the edge of the sword; it would almost seem that the royal summons went out, calling the whole force of England to the royal standard.[1466] But Eadward had counsellors about him who were wiser than himself. They, Harold doubtless at their head, shrank as soldiers from a winter campaign and as patriots from a civil war. They pleaded that, with these two great difficulties in the way of immediate action, it would be impossible to collect an army able to cope with the insurgents.[1467] The Housecarls of the King and of the Earl were doubtless ready to march at their command; but, of all courses in the world, none could be so unpopular as to employ this force to put down a popular insurrection. It would be a renewal of the days |1041.| of Harthacnut and of the march against Worcester.[1468] The King was so eager for battle that his advisers could not, |He is prevented by Harold and others.| after all, persuade him formally to revoke his orders for war; but they took means to prevent the expedition from actually taking place.[1469] So to do would be no very difficult task, when the feeling of the chiefs and of the people was doubtless exactly the same. So great was Eadward’s wrath and excitement of mind that he fell into the illness of which he never recovered. He complained bitterly before God that he was hindered from chastising the unrighteous, and called for divine vengeance seemingly alike upon the original offenders, and on those who stood in the way of their punishment.[1470] But the wrath of the Saint, if violent for the time, was not always lasting,[1471] and however vigorous he may have been in curses and prophecies, he seems to have practically allowed Harold to act in his name, and to settle matters as he chose.[1472]

Position of Harold. His public duty in the controversy.

The course for Harold to take was obvious, whether looked at from the point of view of his own interest or from that of the interest of his country. The dictates of the two were exactly the same; both alike prompted him to secure a real and great advantage at the cost of a certain sacrifice of pride and passion. The revolt of the Northumbrians could not be justified on any showing. They had undoubtedly suffered great wrongs, but they had not taken the right means to redress them. Their proper course would undoubtedly have been that which Harold himself suggested, to bring their charges against their Earl for public inquiry in a Witenagemót of the whole realm. The Gemót at York had usurped functions which did not belong to it; the deposition and outlawry of Tostig, and the election of Morkere, were utterly illegal proceedings. The massacre and plunder at York, above all the ravages in Northamptonshire, were still more thoroughly unjustifiable. All these were doings which, in one man or in a few men, would have called for exemplary punishment. But in a case like this, where the guilty parties were the great bulk of the people of all Northumberland and of several shires of Mercia, it was absurd to talk of punishment. The question was not a question of punishment, but one of peace or war. Was it either right or expedient, in the general interest of the Kingdom of England, for Wessex and East-Anglia to make war upon Northumberland and Mercia? The object of such a war would have been simply to force on Northumberland an Earl whom the Northumbrian people had rejected, and who had shown himself utterly unfit for his post. The royal authority would undoubtedly suffer some humiliation by yielding to demands which had been supported by armed force; still such humiliation would be a less evil than a civil war, the issue of which would be very doubtful, and whose results, in any case, would prove most baneful, if not ruinous, to the country. As a brother, Harold had done all for his brother that could be asked of him, in his proposal made in the first conference at Northampton. It could not be his duty—I quote the judgement of a writer of the next age not specially favourable to Harold[1473]—to bring such untold evils on his country merely for the chance of restoring his brother to the authority which he had so deeply abused. Harold therefore, as a statesman and a patriot, rightly determined to yield to the demands of the insurgents.

His private interest. Complete agreement of the two.

It is equally plain that exactly the same course was dictated to him by his own interests as a candidate for the Crown. He had lost in every way by the revolt. Hitherto all England, except Mercia, had been under the government of himself and his brothers. The House of Godwine held four out of the five great Earldoms; the House of Leofric held only one. Now things were turned about. The House of Godwine still held three Earldoms, while the House of Leofric held but two; but the two which were held by the House of Leofric formed a larger, and a far more compact and united, territory than the three which were held by the House of Godwine. The opposition of a candidate from the rival family, or a proposal for the division of the Kingdom, was incomparably more likely, now that the vast region between the Thames and the Tweed was practically under the control of a single will, and that a will which Harold had small means of influencing. But, deeply as Harold had lost by the Northumbrian revolution, he would have lost still more by an attempt to bring about a counter-revolution by force. Whether such an attempt succeeded or failed, the result would be much the same. In either case his wife’s brothers, and the vast districts over which they ruled, would become, not merely indifferent or unfriendly to his claims, but avowedly and bitterly hostile. In the face of their open enmity, his succession to the whole Kingdom would be hopeless; he might possibly become King of the West-Saxons; he could never become King of the English. The tie of affinity was weak, the tie of gratitude was likely to be still weaker. Still it was the wisest course to make the best even of those weak ties. It was wise to do his brothers-in-law a good turn, and so to take his chance of winning their good will, rather than at once to turn them into deadly foes. It was true that every step by which he conciliated his brothers-in-law would make a bitterer enemy of his own brother. But his mere hesitation and moderation were already in the eyes of Tostig an unpardonable offence; his brother’s enmity he had won already, and he could hardly foresee that that enmity would one day be still more dangerous to him than any opposition that was to be dreaded from Mercia or Northumberland.

Gemót of Oxford. October 28, 1065.

On these grounds then, public and private, Harold, armed, it would now seem, with the full royal authority, determined to yield to the insurgents. While their answer was under discussion in the King’s court,[1474] they had been ravaging Northamptonshire, and they had since advanced as far as Oxford. There, in the frontier town of Mercia and Wessex, the town where the common affairs of the two great divisions of the Kingdom had been so often discussed, the Earl of the West-Saxons summoned a general Witenagemót of the whole realm.[1475] The Assembly met on the Feast of Saint Simon and Saint Jude. After another attempt at bringing about a reconciliation between Tostig |The Acts of the York Gemót confirmed.| and the Northumbrians,[1476] Harold yielded every point. The irregular acts of the Northumbrian Gemót were confirmed by lawful authority. The deposition and outlawry of Tostig, the election of Morkere to the Northern Earldom, were legalized. But the outlying parts of the government of Siward and Tostig, the shires of Northampton and Huntingdon, were now detached from Northumberland, |Waltheof made Earl of Northamptonshire and Huntingdonshire.| and bestowed on Siward’s young son Waltheof.[1477] He thus received an ample provision, while he was cut off from the exercise of any influence which he might possess in Morkere’s Earldom, whether as the son of Siward or as a descendant of the elder line of Earls. And another solemn |Renewal of Cnut’s Law.| decree was passed, which shows that this Gemót was meant to be a wiping out of old scores and the beginning of a new epoch. Northern and Southern England were again to be solemnly reconciled, as they had been reconciled forty-seven years before in another Assembly held on the same spot.[1478] Then, under the presidency of a Danish conqueror, Englishmen and Danes agreed to decree the renewal of the Laws of Eadgar. The sway of law and justice was then held to be impersonated in the peaceful Basileus, the hero of the triumph of Chester. In the space of those forty-seven years, the foreign conqueror who had presided in that earlier Gemót of Oxford had supplanted Eadgar himself as the hero of the national affections. In the North above all, where in life he had been perhaps less valued, the rule of the great Dane was looked back to as the golden age, the happy time before the tyranny of Tostig and the stern government of Siward. The South too, which, under the rule of Godwine and Harold, had no such complaints to make, might still look back with regret to the days of the King under whom Wessex had been, what she never was before or after, the Imperial state of all Northern Europe. Cnut now, as Eadgar then, was the one Prince whose name North and South, Dane and Englishman, united in reverencing. He was the one Prince whom all could agree in holding up to future Kings and Earls as the faultless model of a ruler. In this case, as in the earlier one, the reconciliation of the two parts of the realm took the form of a decree for the restoration of an earlier and better state of things. The Witenagemót of Oxford, with Earl Harold at its head, decreed with all solemnity the renewal of the Laws of Cnut.[1479]

Banishment of Tostig. November 1, 1065.

One step more remained to be taken. The deposed Earl had to leave the Kingdom. According to one account, it would seem that a violent expulsion was still needed, in which Earl Eadwine appears as the chief actor.[1480] But this account seems to be a misconception. It would rather seem that, while all these messages and debates were going on, Tostig had never quitted the King. After this last decree, Eadward saw that he had no longer any power to protect him, and he therefore, though with deep sorrow, required his favourite’s departure.[1481] The Earl bade farewell to his mother and his friends, and with his wife and his children,[1482] and some partizans who shared his exile,[1483] he set forth for the same friendly refuge which had sheltered him |He takes refuge in Flanders.| when a guiltless exile fourteen years before. He left England on the Feast of All Saints.[1484] The means of communication in those days must, as we have already seen more than once,[1485] have been much speedier than we are generally inclined to think. This whole revolution, with its gatherings, its meetings, its marches, its messages to and fro between distant places, took up less than one Kalendar month, from the first assemblage of the Thegns at York to the departure of Tostig from England. The banished Earl crossed over to Baldwines land, the land of his wife’s father. Under his protection he passed the whole of the winter at Saint Omer.[1486]

§4. The Last Days of Eadward. 1065–1066.[1487]

Eadward’s last sickness.

The life of Eadward was now drawing near to its end; we are approaching the close of the first act of our great drama. From the illness into which Eadward was thrown by the excitement of the Northumbrian revolt, he never thoroughly recovered.[1488] He barely lived to complete the |His foundation at Westminster.| great work of his life. The royal saint deemed himself set upon the throne, not to secure the welfare or the independence of his Kingdom, but to build a church and endow a monastery in honour of the Prince of the Apostles. If we were reading the life, not of a King, but of a Bishop or Abbot, we might well look on this as an object worthy of the devotion of a life. It was no small work to rear that stately minster which has ever since been the crowning-place of our Kings, and which for so many ages remained their place of burial. It was no small work to call into being that mighty Abbey, whose chapter-house plays so great a part in the growth of the restored freedom of England, and which has well nigh supplanted the Kentish mother-church itself as the ecclesiastical home of the English nation. The church of Saint Peter at Westminster, the great work of Eadward’s life, has proved a more than equal rival of the older sanctuaries of Canterbury and York and Winchester and Glastonbury. But, as the work of a King in such an age, we look on it with very different feelings from those with which we look on the ecclesiastical works of Ælfred or Æthelstan or Harold. In the eyes of those great rulers, a care for ecclesiastical administration and ecclesiastical reform, the establishment of foundations likely to spread piety and enlightenment among their people, naturally and rightly seemed an important part of the duty of a Prince. But in Eadward we can discern no sign of the higher aspirations of a ruler; a monk rather than a King, he seems never to have risen beyond a monk’s selfish anxiety for the welfare of his own |Eadward’s devotion for Saint Peter.| soul. The special object of Eadward’s reverence was the Apostle Peter,[1489] and his reverence for that Saint did no good to the Kingdom of England. His devotion to the Apostle led to a devotion to his supposed successor, and to that increased frequency of intercourse with the Roman See which is a marked characteristic of his reign. There seems no reason to doubt, though his Biographer is silent on the subject,[1490] that, as I have told the tale in earlier chapters, Eadward vowed a pilgrimage to Rome, that his Witan dissuaded him from leaving his Kingdom, that Pope Leo dispensed with his vow, and imposed on him, instead of a personal visit to the tomb of the Apostle, the duty of founding or enlarging a monastery in his honour within his own Kingdom. We have seen that the two missions of Ealdred and other Prelates to Rome were probably connected with this design. The earlier one was sent to obtain the remission of the vow, the later one to obtain the |His foundation in honour of the Apostle. 1051–1065.| Papal confirmation of the privileges of the house.[1491] We thus get a clear notion of the chronology of the foundation which occupied Eadward during the last fourteen years of his reign. It must again be remembered that the foundation of a monastery followed a course exactly opposite to |Reverse order of proceeding at Westminster and at Waltham.| the foundation of a secular college. In a secular college the Canons or other clergy are ministers appointed, for the common advantage of the Church and realm, to maintain divine worship in a particular building. In a monastery, the monks are men who go out of the world to save their own souls, and who need a church of their own to pray in. In a college then the minster itself comes first; the clergy exist only for its sake, and for the sake of those who worship in it. In a monastery the society of monks comes first, and the minster exists only for their sake. Harold therefore, in his great work at Waltham, first built his church; he then settled the exact details of his foundation, the number, the duties, the endowments, of the clergy whom he placed in it.[1492] Eadward no doubt began to build his church as soon as he had formed the scheme of his foundation; but the church was not the same primary object which it was at Waltham, nor did its building need to be pressed forward with the same special speed. At Waltham the charter of foundation dates two years later than the |Completion of the foundation, 1061.| consecration of the minster.[1493] At Westminster the foundation itself, the establishment and endowment of the monastic society, no doubt the building of the refectory, |Consecration of the church, 1065.| dormitory, and other buildings needed for their personal use, had all been brought to perfection at least four years before the minster itself was ready for consecration.[1494]

The rescript of Pope Leo required Eadward either to found a new, or to enlarge an old, monastery in honour of |The Monastery of Thorney or Westminster.| Saint Peter. He preferred the latter course. And we are told that the visions of a holy recluse named Wulfsige, probably the same who had finally determined Saint Wulfstan to accept his Bishoprick, guided him to the predestined site.[1495] At a little distance from the western gate of London lay what was then an island of the Thames, which, from the dense bushes and thickets with which it was covered, received the name of Thorney.[1496] There stood a |Its foundation. 653–660.| monastery whose origin was carried up to the earliest days of English Christianity. There Sigeberht, the first Christian King of the East-Saxons, had begun a foundation in honour of Saint Peter, to balance, as it were, the great minster of Saint Paul within the city.[1497] Legends gathered round the spot; the Bishop Mellitus, when about to hallow the church, was warned not to repeat the ceremony; the church had been already hallowed by the Apostle himself in his own honour.[1498] The church of Saint Peter, from its position with regard to the church of the brother Apostle, obtained the name, so familiar and so historical in the ears of every |Its state in Eadward’s time.| Englishman, of the West Minster. Its reputation however remained for several centuries altogether inferior to that of its eastern rival. We are told that in Eadward’s time the foundation was poor, the monks few, the buildings mean.[1499] |Burial of Harold the son of Cnut. 1040.| Yet against this description we must set the fact that Westminster was chosen as the burial-place of at least one King, and that a King who had not died in the immediate neighbourhood.[1500] We have also found the death of at least one Abbot of the house thought worthy of record in the national Chronicles.[1501] The temporary burial-place of the first Harold was now chosen by Eadward as the place for his own sepulchre,[1502] as the place for the redemption of his vow, as the place which should become the sacred hearth of the English nation, the crowning-place of its future Kings.[1503] The site, so near to the great city, and yet removed from its immediate throng and turmoil,[1504] was chosen as the site of a foundation in which royalty and monasticism were to dwell side by side, where living Kings were to dwell and hold their court under the shadow of the pile which covered the bones of the Kings who had gone before them. Like Fécamp, which may well have been his model,[1505] like Holyrood and the Escorial in later times, Eadward designed to place palace and monastery in each other’s close neighbourhood, to make Westminster the centre of all the strongest national feelings of religion and loyalty. And he has had his reward. His scheme prospered in his own time, and it has survived to ours. |Permanance of Eadward’s minster and palace.| His minster still stands, rebuilt, partly by a more illustrious bearer of his own name, in such a guise as to make it the noblest of the noble churches of England. But, in its subordinate buildings, large traces still remain of the work of its sainted founder. Within, it has supplanted Sherborne and Glastonbury and Winchester as the resting-place of the Kings and worthies of our land. And as the centre of them all, displacing God’s altar from its worthiest site, still stands the shrine of Eadward himself, his name and his dust still abiding in somewhat of their ancient honour, while the nobler dust of Ælfred and Eadgar and Harold is scattered to the winds. And by the minster still stands the palace; no longer indeed the dwelling-place of Kings, but more than ever the true home of the nation; where the Witan of all England still meet for judgement and for legislation, as they did in the days when Eadward wore his Crown at that last Midwinter Feast, as they did when the first national act done beneath the roof of the newly hallowed minster, was to place that Crown, as the gift of the English people, on the brow of the foremost man of English blood and speech.

Eadward’s church destroyed, and rebuilt in his own honour.

The church of Westminster, as built by Eadward, has wholly given way to the conceptions of later architects, who, in the true spirit of mediæval times, sought to do fresh honour to the saint by making his own work give way to theirs. With our feelings on such matters, we should look on the pile itself as the best monument of its founder, and, if the original West Minster had descended to our time, our first object would be to preserve its genuine features precisely as they came from the hands of its first builders. In the ideas of the thirteenth century the memories of the past, the associations of a spot or of a building, were feebly felt compared with the devotion which was felt towards the precious possession of all, the saint himself still present in his wonder-working relics. For them no receptacle could be too gorgeous or too costly; reverence for the saint would of itself prompt the destruction of his own building, if it could be replaced by one which the taste of the age deemed more worthy of sheltering the shrine which contained his bones. The church of Eadward was therefore destroyed by his own worshippers in his own honour. His special devotee, one might almost think his special imitator, Henry the Third, began that magnificent temple which, after so many ages, still remains unfinished. |Existing remains of Eadward’s buildings.| Of the domestic buildings of the abbey as raised by Eadward large portions were spared. The solid passages and substructures, built in the massive style of the time, remain almost perfect, and even of the more important buildings, as the refectory and dormitory, considerable traces still exist.[1506] But the church itself, the central building of all, gradually gave way to the superb structure with which we are all familiar; nothing is left of Eadward’s minster save a few bases of pillars, and other fragments brought to light in various excavations and alterations of the present fabric. But we are not left without minute accounts of a structure which made a deep impression on men’s minds, and whose erection |His church the first great example of Norman architecture in England.| formed an æra in our national architecture. Among other importations from Normandy which we could well have spared, Eadward brought one with him which even our insular pride might be glad to welcome. The building art was now receiving daily improvements at the hands of the founders of those great Norman churches which were rising in such abundance on the other side of the sea. All those improvements Eadward carefully introduced into his new minster. He built his church in the newest style of the day, and it remained the great object of English imitation deep into the twelfth century.[1507] Of the church thus built we have a description and a pictorial representation made while the charm of novelty was still fresh upon it.[1508] It was a Norman minster of vast size, the increase of size in churches being one main distinction between the new Norman style and the older English manner of building. Its dimensions no doubt far surpassed those of any existing church in England, as they certainly far surpassed those of the contemporary church of Waltham. A short eastern limb, ending in an apse, contained the high altar. Over the choir rose, in Norman fashion, the central tower, seemingly surrounded at its angles by smaller turrets, and crowned by a cupola of wood and lead. The transepts projected north and south; to the west stretched the long nave, with its two ranges of arches, resting seemingly on tall columnar piers, like those of Jumièges, Gloucester, and Tewkesbury. Two smaller towers, for the reception of the bells, were designed as the finish of the building to the west.[1509] On the erection of this vast and stately fabric, and on the other objects of his foundation, Eadward had for many years spent the tenth part of his royal revenues.[1510] The monastic buildings had been finished for some years; the monks with their Abbot Eadwine[1511] were already in possession of their house and its endowments. |The church finished. 1065.| The minster was meanwhile rising, and it was Eadward’s wish to interfere as little as possible with the worship which had still to be celebrated in the old building. The new church was therefore begun at some distance to the east of its doomed predecessor, which was doubtless not wholly demolished till the new one was completed.[1512] In the foundation and endowment of the monastery the King found helpers among his subjects, the fallen Earl of the Northumbrians being among their number.[1513] But the building of the church seems to have been wholly Eadward’s own personal work. At last the work of so many years was brought to perfection. The time employed on the building was indeed shorter than that bestowed on many other of our great churches, which their own Prelates had to rear out of their own resources. But here a King was pressing on the work with all his might, a King who, when he had once completed the great object of his life, was ready to depart in peace. After fourteen years from the receipt of the Papal dispensation the building was finished from the apse to the western front. By the time of the Midwinter festival of the year one thousand and sixty-five the new minster of Saint Peter stood ready for the great ceremony of its consecration.

Legends.

So great a work, raised under such circumstances, could hardly fail to become surrounded by an atmosphere of legend. It was not every church that was founded either by a King or by a canonized saint. Fewer still among churches were founded by a King who was at once a canonized saint, the last of an ancient dynasty, and one whose memory was embalmed in the national recollection as the representative of the times before the evil days of foreign domination. In his lifetime, or at most within a few years after his death, Eadward was already deemed to be a worker of miracles.[1514] For his dreams, visions, and prophecies he was renowned to his last moment. One story tells us how the holy King, with his pious friends Leofric and Godgifu, was hearing mass in the elder minster of Saint Peter; how the King was deep in devotion; how he and the Earl—Godgifu is no longer spoken of—saw the form of the divine Child in the hands of the ministering priest; how Eadward bade his friend keep his secret till after his death; how Leofric confided it only to a holy monk at Worcester, who revealed it to no man till Leofric and Eadward were both no more.[1515] Another tale sets the King before us in all the Imperial pomp of the Easter festival; he goes with crown and sceptre from the church—in this case doubtless the Old Minster of Winchester—to the royal banquetting-hall. Heedless of the feast, absorbed in his own meditations, the King is seen to smile. Afterwards, in his private chamber, Earl Harold, a Bishop, and an Abbot, venture to ask him the reason of his serene and pious mirth. His thoughts had been far away from the royal hall of Winchester; he had seen the Seven Sleepers of Ephesos; they had turned from the right side to the left, an omen which presaged that some evil was coming upon the earth. The matter was deemed worthy of a special embassy to the Imperial Court of Constantinople, but the ambassadors took their commission, not from the King but from the three dignified subjects who had shared his confidence. Earl Harold sent a Thegn, the Bishop a clerk, the Abbot a monk. The three made their way to the New Rome and told the tale to the reigning Emperor. By his orders the tomb of the holy Sleepers at Ephesos was opened; the vision of the English King was proved to be true; and his prophetic powers were soon exalted by the general misfortunes of mankind, by the failure of the royal line of England and by the conquests of the Infidel Turks at the expense of Eastern |Legend of the ring.| Christendom.[1516] One more tale will bring us back directly to the current of our story.[1517] The King was present at the dedication of the church of Saint John at Clavering.[1518] A beggar asks alms of his sovereign in the name of the patron of the newly hallowed temple, the Apostle whom Eadward reverenced next after his special patron Saint Peter. The King has neither silver nor gold about him; he cannot find his almoner for the press, he gives the poor man the only gift that he can give at the moment, the costly ring on his finger. The beggar returns thanks and vanishes. That very day,[1519] two English pilgrims are benighted in a wilderness of the Holy Land. A band of bright youths appears, attending an old man before whom two tapers are borne as in the service of the Church. He asks the pilgrims from what land they come, and of what King they are subjects. They are Englishmen, subjects of the good King Eadward. For the love of good King Eadward he guides them to a city and an hostelry, where they find abundant entertainment. In the morning he reveals himself to them as John the Apostle and Evangelist; he gives them the ring to bear to the King of the English, with the message that, as the reward of his good and chaste life, he should within six months be with himself in Paradise. The message is delivered; the King’s alms and prayers and fastings are redoubled; but one thing specially occupies his mind, the longing to see the new minster of Saint Peter hallowed before he dies.

Consecration of Eadgyth’s church at Wilton. 1065.

The time was at last come. The great ceremony had been preceded by a lesser one of the same kind. The Lady Eadgyth—was it as an atonement for the blood of Gospatric?—had rebuilt the church of nuns at Wilton, the church of her sainted namesake the daughter of Eadgar.[1520] The fabric had hitherto been of wood,[1521] but the Lady now reared a stone minster, pressing on the work with unusual haste, in pious rivalry with her husband.[1522] The new building was hallowed by Hermann, the Bishop of the diocese, just before the Northumbrian revolt.[1523] That revolt was now over, and the land was once more quiet; the work of the King’s life was finished; the time of the Christmas Festival |Midwinter Gemót at Westminster. 1065–1066.| drew nigh. This year the Midwinter Gemót was not gathered, as in former years, at Gloucester, but the Witan of all England were specially called to the King’s Court at Westminster, to be present at the hallowing of the new church of Saint Peter.[1524] The Assembly met; the King’s strength was failing, but he assayed to appear in the usual kingly state. On the Festival of the Nativity and on the two following days, one of them the day of his patron Evangelist, he wore his Crown in public.[1525] But the |Consecration of Westminster. December 28, 1065.| exertion was too much for him. The fourth day, the Feast of the Holy Innocents, had been appointed for the great ceremony; but Eadward was no longer able to take any personal part in the rite which he had so long looked forward to as the crowning act of his life. The minster was hallowed with all the rites of the Church, but the Founder’s share in the ceremony was discharged by deputy; Eadward, King, saint, and founder, was represented in that day’s solemnity by his wife the Lady Eadgyth.[1526] Eadward’s work on earth was now over; his church was finished and hallowed, and it was soon to be the scene of rites still more solemn, still more memorable. Saint Peter’s minster had been built to be the crowning-place and the burying-place of future Kings of the English. Its special functions soon fell thick upon the newly hallowed temple. Before another year had passed, the West Minster was to be the scene of one royal burial, of two royal consecrations, and those consecrations the two most memorable that England ever saw. But it had not to wait for months, or even for weeks, before its special history began. The sound of the workman’s hammer had hardly ceased, the voice of the consecrating Prelate was hardly hushed into silence, before the church of the Apostle was put to the lofty purposes for which it was designed. Before the Christmas Festival was over, it beheld the funeral rites of its founder, the coronation |Death of Eadward. January 5, 1066.| rites of his successor. The days of the holy season were not yet accomplished, the Witan of England had not yet departed to their homes, when the last royal son of Woden was borne to his grave, and his Imperial Crown |Burial of Eadward and coronation of Harold. January 6, 1066.| was placed on the brow of one whose claim was not drawn only from the winding-sheet of his fathers. The most eventful year of our history had begun, but its first week had not yet fully passed away, when Eadward, the son of Æthelred and Emma, was gathered to his fathers, and Harold, the son of Godwine and of Gytha, was King of the English and Lord of the Isle of Britain.[1527]

Summary.

We have thus, through the three and twenty years of Eadward’s reign, traced what we may fairly look upon as the first stage of the Norman Conquest. Under a King, English by birth but Norman in feelings and habits, England has been brought under a direct Norman influence, which seemed at one moment likely to bring with it the peaceful establishment of Norman dominion. We have seen the Court of England swarming with Norman favourites; we have seen the Church of England handed over to the government of Norman Prelates; we have seen Norman adventurers enriched with English estates, and covering the land with those frowning castles on which our fathers looked as the special badges of wrong and slavery. Above all, we have seen the Duke of the Normans, not only received with special honours at the English Court, but encouraged to look upon himself as the destined successor to the English Crown. A national reaction, almost rising to the rank of a revolution, has broken the yoke of the strangers, has driven the most guilty from the land, and has placed England and her King once more under the rule of the noblest of her own sons. Still the effect of those days of Norman influence was not wiped out; the land had not been wholly cleared of the strangers, and, what is of far more moment, the wary and wily chief of the strangers had been armed with a pretext plausible enough to win him general support wherever the laws of England were unknown. The moment of struggle was now come; the English throne had become vacant, and the Norman Duke knew how to represent himself as its lawful heir, and to brand the King of the nation’s choice as an usurper. We thus enter on the second, the decisive, stage of the great struggle. It is no longer a half concealed strife for influence, for office, for a peaceful succession to the Crown. It is an open warfare of nation against nation, of man against man. England and Normandy, Harold and William, are now brought face to face. The days of debate and compromise are past; the sword alone can now judge between England and her enemy. The details of that memorable conflict, the events of that wonderful year which forms the turning-point of all English history, will form the third portion of my tale, the culminating point of the History of the Norman Conquest.

APPENDIX.

NOTE A. p. 5.
The Election and Coronation of Eadward.

In reading the account of Eadward’s accession to the Crown, as told in the Chronicles and by Florence, we are at once struck by the great and unusual delay between his first election and his consecration as King. He is chosen in London in June by a popular movement which could not even wait for the burial of the deceased King; but he is not crowned till the Easter of the next year. No explanation is given of the delay, no account of the way in which the intervening months were occupied, no statement where Eadward was at the time of Harthacnut’s death. We must therefore look to other writers for the means of filling up this singular gap. I need hardly again refute the wild romance of Thierry, of which I spoke in vol. i. p. 592. I will only say that Eadward’s Westminster Charter (Cod. Dipl. iv. 173), which, doubtful as it is, is at least as good authority as Brompton or Knighton, makes him speak of himself as “eo [regno] potitus sine ullo bellorum labore.” It will be more profitable to examine the witness of those writers who wrote at all near the time, or who were at all likely to preserve contemporary traditions.

According to Eadward’s Biographer (p. 394), as soon as England was free from her Danish rulers (see vol. i. p. 592), Godwine at once proposed the election of Eadward as the natural heir (“ut Regem suum recipiant in nativi juris sui throno”). Godwine being looked on as a common father, everybody agreed to his proposal (“quoniam pro patre ab omnibus habebatur, in paterno consultu libenter audiebatur”). Earls and Bishops are sent to fetch Eadward (“mittuntur post eum”); they bring him with them; he is joyfully received, and crowned at Canterbury.

William of Poitiers (p. 85 Giles), as might be supposed, knows nothing about Godwine, or about any free election by the English people. Eadward, according to him, was chosen under a most powerful congè d’élire and letter missive from his cousin the Duke of the Normans. The English are disputing about the succession, when a Norman embassy comes, threatening a Norman invasion if Eadward is not received. The nation chooses the wiser part, and Eadward comes home, protected by a small array of Norman knights (“Disceptantes Angli deliberatione suis rationibus utilissima consenserunt, legationibus justa petentibus acquiescere, quam Normannorum vim experiri. Reducem cum non maximo præsidio militis Normannici cupidè sibi eum præstituerunt, ne manu validiore, si Comes Normannicus adveniret, subigerentur”). The same version is given in a shorter form in the Chronicle of Saint Wandrille (D’Achery, ii. 286). Eadward, already chosen and crowned King, but hitherto kept out of his Kingdom by Swend, Cnut, and others, is now restored by Norman help (“In regnum paternum adnitentibus Normannis rediit”).

Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 759 A) mixes up the accession of Eadward with his version of the death of Ælfred (see vol. i. p. 543), which, it will be remembered, he places after the death of Harthacnut. Ælfred had been slain by the English, because he had brought too many Normans with him; the English then send to Normandy, offering the Crown to Eadward, on condition that he brings only a small body of Normans with him (“Miserunt ergo pro Edwardo juniore in Normanniam nuntios et obsides, mandantes ei quod paucissimos Normannorum secum adduceret, et eum in Regem fidelissimè stabilirent”). Eadward comes over with a small company (“cum paucis venit in Angliam”); he is chosen King by all folk (“electus est in Regem ab omni populo”), and is consecrated at Easter by Eadsige at Winchester.

The Winchester Annals (Luard, pp. 18–20) swell out the story into a long romance; but some points are worthy of notice. On the death of Harthacnut, Godwine is, by a decree of the Witan and with the consent of the Lady Emma (“Reginæ assensu et magnatum consilio”), appointed Regent of the Kingdom till a King can be chosen (“regni cura Comiti Godwino committitur, donec qui dignus esset eligeretur in Regem”). Eadward is in Normandy, where, since the death of Duke Robert, he has no friends; he has no hope from his mother; he determines to trust himself to the mercy of his enemy Godwine (“inter desperandum tutius credebat manifesto supplicare inimico, quam fictum amicum sine caussâ sollicitare”). He comes over to England, he lands at Southampton, he avoids his mother at Winchester, but goes to Godwine in London, and throws himself at the Earl’s feet. A long dialogue follows, the upshot of which is that Godwine swears fidelity to Eadward and promises him the Crown. Eadward is sent to Winchester in disguise, and is bidden to reveal himself to no one. Godwine meanwhile summons the Witan to Winchester for the election of a King. They meet in the Old Minster. The Lady Emma seemingly presides; the Archbishops are at her right hand, the Earl of the West-Saxons at her left. Eadward, veiled, sits at the feet of Godwine. At the proper moment Godwine unveils him; “Here,” he says, “is your King; here is Eadward, son of this Lady Emma and of Æthelred King of the English. I choose him King, and am the first to become his man” (“Huic ego omnium primus homagium facio”). A debate follows; some object to the choice, but no man dares seriously to oppose Godwine. Eadward is elected and crowned.

The Hyde writer (pp. 287, 288), like Henry of Huntingdon, connects the accession of Eadward with the death of Ælfred, and, like William of Poitiers, brings in Duke William as a prominent actor. After Ælfred’s death William meditates revenge, but an English embassy comes, praying for another son of Æthelred to be sent to them as their King (“rogant sibi alium dominum”—domini?—“sui transmitti filium”), and promising him all loyal service. William will not allow his cousin to adventure himself, unless some of the noblest of the English, and especially one of the sons of Godwine, are given him as hostages. This is done, and Eadward is brought over to England by a Norman fleet.

Lastly, charters exist which imply that Eadward was for a while in Normandy after he had acquired a right to the title of King. At an earlier time he and his brother had subscribed a charter of Duke Robert, with the form “Signum Hetwardi. Signum Helwredi.” (Delisle, Preuves, p. 11.) But the cartulary of Saint Michael’s Mount contains two Charters in which Eadward is called “Rex.” I do not rely so much on the Charter in Eadward’s own name, which is printed in Cod. Dipl. iv. 251, and Delisle, Preuves, 20. It is signed by Robert Archbishop of Rouen, who died in 1037. Now it is really inconceivable that Eadward should call himself King before 1042, unless possibly in some moment of exultation when Duke Robert’s fleet was setting forth to restore him. (See vol. i. p. 525.) The matter of the charter also is strange, and the English spelling “Eadwardus” is unusual in a document which must have been drawn up in Normandy. I have more faith in a Charter of Duke William (Delisle, Preuves, p. 19), which, among other signatures, has that of “Hatuardus Rex.” This looks to me far more likely to be genuine. It is quite conceivable that, if Eadward was asked to witness a charter of his cousin’s, just as he was leaving Normandy in 1042, he might assume the title, though not yet strictly entitled to it by English Law.

The accounts of all these different writers seem to be independent of one another, unless the Hyde version is made up by compounding the story of William of Poitiers with that which we find in Henry of Huntingdon. The mention of the hostages is one form of a story which I shall have elsewhere to discuss at length. All these accounts agree in placing Eadward in Normandy at the moment of Harthacnut’s death. William of Malmesbury (ii. 196) however supposes him to have been in England. With this difference, his story is much the same as that of the Winchester Annals stripped of its romantic details. It is probably the groundwork round which that legend has grown. Eadward, not knowing whither to turn after the death of Harthacnut, throws himself at the feet of Godwine, and craves leave to return to Normandy. The Earl raises him, and addresses him in a speech whose substance may well be historical, and to which I have not hesitated to give a place in the text. Eadward promises everything; he will be Godwine’s firm friend; he will promote his sons and marry his daughter. The Witan meet at Gillingham; Godwine speaks on behalf of Eadward, and becomes his man (“rationibus suis explicitis, Regem efficit, hominio palam omnibus dato”); the election, the coronation, the punishment of the opponents of Eadward, follow as I have told them in the text.

Now it strikes me that, in these accounts, when carefully compared together, we may find the means of filling up the gap, and of explaining the delay, between the first election and the coronation. In all the versions the time is filled up by negotiation, not by war. In most of them the negotiation is carried on between Eadward and Godwine; in all those which mention Godwine at all, he stands forth as the leading man in the business, in fact as the man who makes Eadward King. We see glimpses of two Assemblies, the former being that hasty Gemót in London which chose Eadward before the burial of Harthacnut, and a later one at Gillingham or elsewhere shortly before the coronation. Again, all the accounts, except that of William of Malmesbury, conceive Eadward as being in Normandy. The inferior writers assert it; the contemporary Biographer clearly implies it. Putting these hints together, I have ventured to construct the narrative in the text. Eadward is chosen in London immediately on the death of Harthacnut; as he is absent, an embassy, doubtless headed by Godwine, is sent to offer him the Crown. The case is thus far almost identical with the story of the first election of Eadward’s half-brother Harthacnut. Delay is in both cases caused by the election of a King who is absent. Eadward does not indeed tarry so long as Harthacnut did; but his indecision, his unwillingness to accept the Crown, the negotiations which were needed to overcome that unwillingness, caused delay, and gave time for an adverse party to form itself. A second Assembly, that recorded by William of Malmesbury, was therefore needed to overcome all objections, and to elect Eadward, now present in person, in a more formal manner. We thus get, from one quarter or another, a credible narrative, which fills up the gap in the Chronicles without contradicting their statements. A few special points must be noticed.

1. We see that most of our statements assert or imply that Eadward was in Normandy. Now it is most certain that Eadward had been recalled to England by Harthacnut (vol. i. p. 584), and that the English court was now his recognized dwelling-place. But this is quite consistent with the notion, which I have ventured to throw out in the text, that Eadward was at this moment in Normandy on some temporary visit or pilgrimage. This view explains all the statements. The fact that Eadward was in Normandy at the moment—a fact which we may surely accept on the credit of the Biographer, to say nothing of the Norman Charters quoted above—led careless writers to forget his recall by Harthacnut, and to speak as if he had never left Normandy since the accession of Cnut. On the other hand, the fact of his recall led William of Malmesbury to forget or to disbelieve that he was in Normandy at the time of Harthacnut’s death. Then the Winchester Annalist, aware of Eadward’s absence, tried to patch it in to William’s account, which was not an easy matter. That an embassy should be sent to Eadward in Normandy was credible enough. It was also credible that Eadward, if in England, might throw himself into the arms of Godwine. But no story can be more unlikely than that which represents Eadward, when safe in Normandy, as coming of his own accord to England to put himself into the hands of the man whom the same account represents as the murderer of his brother.

2. I accept the second Assembly as the only means of reconciling the different accounts and of meeting the probabilities of the case. And I accept Gillingham as its place, on the authority of William of Malmesbury. It is true that one of William’s manuscripts places it in London, while the Winchester Annalist transfers it to his own city and his own church. The universal law of criticism comes in here. If a thing happened either in London or at Winchester, no transcriber or copyist would be likely to remove it to Gillingham. But nothing was more natural than for a transcriber to alter Gillingham into London, if he thought he could thereby bring his text into conformity with the Chronicles. The Winchester writer would have every motive to confound the Gemót at Gillingham with the consecration which shortly followed at Winchester. The very strangeness of the choice of Gillingham for such an Assembly is the best proof that it is the right place. By Gillingham, I may add, William of Malmesbury can only have meant the West-Saxon Gillingham, already mentioned in his history (ii. 180). The Kentish Gillingham would connect itself more naturally with the Biographer’s statement of a coronation at Canterbury, but the other is the more obvious place for a Meeting which was followed by a coronation at Winchester.

3. The reader must judge for himself as to the amount of value to be attached to the statements of William of Poitiers and the Hyde writer as to the influence of the Duke of the Normans in the matter. It must not be forgotten that in 1042 William was only fourteen years old, and in the midst of the troubles of his minority. It is quite possible that William or his advisers may, perhaps even then with some vague designs on the English Crown, have pressed the acceptance of that Crown on Eadward. And, in any case, the story could hardly have arisen, unless embassies of some sort had passed between England and Normandy in the course of the business. It so far falls in with my view of Eadward’s position.

4. The statement of the Biographer that Eadward was crowned at Canterbury seems, at first sight, very strange. There can be no doubt that the final ceremony took place at Winchester. That the Biographer’s account is rhetorical and somewhat confused is no more than his usual fashion. But it would be strange if a contemporary made a mistake on a point of this kind. Is it possible that the ceremony was performed twice? Coronations were sometimes repeated in those days. If we read the Biographer’s account narrowly, it is plain that he distinguishes between the ceremony at Canterbury, which he evidently looks on as happening immediately on Eadward’s landing, and the reception of the foreign ambassadors, which takes place when the news had reached foreign courts (“exhilaratus quod eum in paternâ sede inthronizatum dedicerat”). But their reception must surely be placed at the final and solemn consecration at Winchester. A twofold coronation, as well as a twofold Gemót, will perhaps solve all difficulties.

There is one more point to be discussed. According to William of Malmesbury, there was an opposition, seemingly a rather strong one, made to Eadward’s election. He does not say on whose behalf the objection was brought. But it is hardly possible that it could have been made on behalf of any one except Swend Estrithson. The English writers indeed make no mention of Swend in the matter, but in Adam of Bremen we find what may pass as Swend’s own version. Adam knew the Danish King personally (ii. 73), and he probably put on record what Swend told him. It will be remembered that, just at the moment of Harthacnut’s death, Swend was in Denmark, carrying on the war with Magnus (see vol. i. p. 583). Adam then goes on thus;

“Suein, victus à Magno, quum in Angliam remearet, Hardechnut mortuum repperit. In cujus locum Angli priùs elegerunt fratrem ejus Eduardum, quem de priori marito Imma genuit; vir sanctus et timens Deum. Isque suspectum habens Suein, quod sceptrum sibi Anglorum reposceret, cum tyranno pacem fecit, constituens eum proximum se mortuo regni Anglorum hæredem, vel si filios susceperit. Tali pacto mitigatus Suein in Daniam remeavit.” (ii. 74.)

I may here note that the word “priùs” in this passage distinctly refers to the first election in London. And, whether we believe Swend’s story of the bargain between himself and Eadward or not, we have here quite enough to make an opposition on Swend’s behalf highly probable. “Tyrannus” is of course to be taken in the sense of “pretender.”

Another passage of Adam (iii. 13) must here be mentioned;

“Simul eo tempore separabant se Angli a regno Danorum, filiis Gudwini rebellionis auctoribus, quos amitæ Regis Danorum filios esse diximus, et quorum sororem Eduardus Rex duxit uxorem. Hi namque, factâ conspiratione, fratres Suein Regis, qui in Angliâ Duces erant, alterum Bern statim obtruncant, alterum Osbern cum suis omnibus ejecerunt à patriâ.”

This at first sight appears to be an account of the separation between Denmark and England on the death of Harthacnut. It is not however really so. It must be taken in connexion with a passage two chapters back (iii. 11), in which Adam gives a most strange version of the events which followed the death of Magnus in 1048. In the true account, Swend then asked for English help, which was refused, and a peace was concluded between England and Harold Hardrada (see above, p. 93). But Adam makes Swend possess both Denmark and Norway, and then prepare to invade England (“Suein duo regna possedit, classemque parâsse dicitur, ut Angliam suo juri subjiceret”). Eadward agrees to pay tribute, and renews the promise of the succession (“Verum sanctissimus Rex Edwardus, quum justitiâ regnum gubernaret, tunc quoque pacem eligens, victori obtulit tributum, statuens eum, ut supra dictum est, post se regni hæredem”). This must be another version of the intended expedition of Magnus (see above, p. 73). On the strength of this tribute, Adam seems to look upon Swend as at least overlord of England (“Quum Rex juvenis Suein tria pro libitu suo regna tenuerit”). He seems to look on Beorn and Osbeorn as Swend’s representatives in England, and the murder of Beorn by Swegen is made into the groundwork of a story of “rebellio,” “conspiratio,” and what not, about the sons of Godwine in general.

The only historical value of this very confused account is that it helps us to the very probable fact of the banishment of Osbeorn, of whom we do not hear in the English writers till 1069. But the story is very curious, as it is the evident groundwork of the wonderful tale in Saxo (p. 202). Saxo looks on Swend as the natural sovereign of England after the death of Harthacnut. Going to Denmark to assert his rights there, he left his interests in England in the hands of his cousins the sons of Godwine. From Eadward himself he feared nothing, unlike Harthacnut, who (see vol. i. p. 583, n. 4) had dreaded his ambition, and who therefore made him his colleague in the Kingdom, lest he should attempt to gain the whole (“Retinendæ insulæ spem non solùm in Godovini filiis, quibus sanguine admodùm conjunctus fuerat, reponens, sed etiam ex ipsâ consortis sui”—Eadwardi sc.—“stoliditate desidiâque præsumens”). But Harold the son of Godwine betrays Swend’s trust, makes Eadward King, and massacres the Danes, according to the story in vol. i. p. 592.

I do not profess to harmonize every detail of the conflicting stories about Eadward, Magnus, and Swend. But I think that there is enough evidence to lead us to believe that Eadward’s election was opposed by a Danish party in Swend’s interest, and that these were the persons who were marked at the time and gradually punished afterwards. See pp. 9, 63, 72, 90.

NOTE B. p. 21.
The Legendary History of Eadward.

There is something very remarkable in that gradual developement of popular reverence for King Eadward, which at last issued in his being acknowledged as the Patron Saint of England. I have endeavoured in the text to point out the chief causes from which this feeling arose; how Eadward was, in different ways, the one person whom Normans and Englishmen could unite in honouring. I will now attempt to trace out the growth of the feeling itself, and to point out some of the ways in which Eadward’s true character and history have been clouded over by legendary and miraculous tales.

Every English writer, as I shall presently show, speaks of Eadward with marked respect, with a degree of respect, in most cases, which their own narratives of his actions hardly account for. Yet, alongside of this, we find indications of a counter feeling, as if there were all along some who thought of him pretty much as the modern historian is driven to think of him. The Scandinavian writers, placed beyond the influences which had effect upon both English and Norman writers, seem to have all along estimated him nearly at his true value. Saxo, though writing long after Eadward had become a recognized saint, treats him with great irreverence, and speaks openly of his “stoliditas et desidia.” The biographer of Olaf Tryggwesson, according to whom Eadward was a special admirer of his own hero, gives him only the rather faint praise of being “princeps optimus in multis” (“oc var agetur Kongr i mórgum lutum.” p. 262). In Snorro’s time he had advanced somewhat; “Hann var kalladr Játvardr inn Gódi, hann var sva” (Ant. Celt. Scand. 189. Laing, iii. 75). But his sanctity still seems only local; Snorro says emphatically that “Englishmen call him a saint” (“oc kalla Enskir menn hann Helgan.” Ant. Celt. Scand. 191. Laing, iii. 77). Adam of Bremen, who, as regards English matters, may almost pass for a Scandinavian writer, is Eadward’s warmest admirer in that part of the world. He gives him perhaps the only unreserved praise which he gets in Northern Europe. With Adam he is not only “vir bonus et timens Deum” (ii. 74), but he rises to the dignity of “sanctissimus Rex Edwardus” (iii. 11). William of Malmesbury, in his accustomed way of letting us see both sides of a question, shows us that in his day there were still people in England by whom the royal saint was lightly esteemed, and he himself seems now and then to halt between two opinions. He gives him (iii. 259) no higher surname than “Edwardus Simplex,” and over and over again, as if of set purpose, he speaks of his “simplicitas” as his chief characteristic. The utmost that he can say for him is that his simplicity won for him favour and protection both with God and man. He was (ii. 196) “vir propter morum simplicitatem parum imperio idoneus, sed Deo devotus, ideoque ab eo directus.” “Fovebat profecto ejus simplicitatem Deus.” (Ib.) “Quamvis vel deses vel simplex putaretur, habebat Comites qui eum ex humili in altum conantem erigerent.” William believes in his holiness, and even in his miraculous powers, but he has not wholly given up the right of criticism upon his character and actions.

The English Chroniclers, and their harmonizer Florence, record Eadward’s actions with perfect impartiality. Nowhere in their narratives do they display towards him any of that affection which they do display towards Harold and other actors in the story. Nor do they ever speak of him with bated breath, as of an acknowledged saint. But the Abingdon and Worcester Chroniclers, and Florence also, all send him out of the world with a panegyric. The unbending Godwinist at Peterborough alone makes no sign. But Florence’s panegyric is of the most general kind. He is (A. 1066) “Anglorum decus, pacificus Rex Eadwardus.” And the elaborate poem in the two Chronicles attributes to the “baleless King” only the mildest and most monastic virtues. One can hardly keep from a smile, till we reach the genuine tribute of admiration with which the poet winds up. He speaks at last from the heart when he makes it Eadward’s highest praise to have “made fast his realm” to “Harold the noble Earl.”

The Chroniclers and Florence imply nothing as to any extraordinary powers possessed by Eadward. Of these powers we get the first glimpses in the contemporary Biographer. Already, within eight years after his death, Eadward was held, at least by those who sought to win favour with his widow, to have wrought miracles, to have seen visions, to have been the subject of the visions of others. When Eadward was taken over as a boy to Normandy, Brihtwold, Bishop of Ramsbury, had a vision in which he saw Saint Peter consecrating Eadward as King (Vita Eadw. 394). The Biographer also (pp. 430, 1) records the unintelligible talk of Eadward on his death-bed, in which he already discerns a prophecy, and he severely rebukes Archbishop Stigand, whose practical mind set small store by the babble of the sick man. Eadward also appears in his pages as the first of the long line of English Kings who undertook to cure the evil by the royal touch. By washing and touching he healed (428) a scrofulous woman, and, what one would hardly have expected, whereas she had hitherto been barren, the touch of Eadward changed her into a joyful mother of children. But here William of Malmesbury again helps us. He is a full believer in Eadward’s miraculous power, but he again (ii. 222) lets us see that there were two opinions on the subject. Some people affirmed that Eadward cured the evil, not by virtue of his holiness, but by virtue of his royal descent (“Nostro tempore quidam falsam insumunt operam, qui asseverant istius morbi curationem non ex sanctitate, sed ex regalis prosapiæ hæreditate fluxisse”). So others at a later time, as Peter of Blois (ep. 150, vol. ii. p. 82 Giles), held that the Kings of England possessed the gift by virtue of their royal unction. William argues against such views, but by so doing he proves that Eadward’s claims to holiness and miraculous power were still a moot point in his time.

Besides this official kind of miracle, Eadward, according to his Biographer, wrought other wonderful works. A blind man was cured by the water in which the King had washed (429), and several cures were wrought at his tomb (435). One is almost tempted to suspect that these stories are interpolations, but there is no need for the supposition. An interpolator would surely have taken care to insert the more famous stories of the ring and of the Seven Sleepers, of which the Biographer tells us nothing. We must remember how men then, and for ages afterwards, instead of being surprised at miracles, looked for them. We must not forget that Queen Anne touched for the evil as well as King Eadward; we must remember that alleged miracles were wrought by the blood, not only of Thomas of London and Simon of Montfort, but also of Charles the First.

William of Malmesbury, clearly with the Biographer before him, enlarges greatly on Eadward’s miraculous and prophetic powers (ii. 220–227), adding to the stories in the Life the vision of the Seven Sleepers (see above, p. 511). But the main disseminator of legendary lore about Eadward was Osbern or Osbert of Clare, Prior of Westminster, who had a hand in procuring his formal canonization, and who wrote a book on his life and miracles (Introduction to M. H. B. 16. Luard, Preface xxv. Hardy’s Catalogue of British History, i. 637, 642). His work has never been printed, but it is the groundwork of the well known Life by Æthelred of Rievaux, printed in the Decem Scriptores. On this again is founded the French Life printed by Mr. Luard, which however adds many particulars which are not to be found in Æthelred. Both of these are truly wonderful productions. Of the French writer I have already given a specimen in vol. i. p. 592. Perhaps his grandest achievement is to make Godwine kill Eadmund Ironside (p. 47. V. 775). Both he and the Abbot of Rievaux agree in describing King Æthelred as a mighty warrior, fighting manfully against the Danes. He is “Rex strenuissimus,” “gloriosus Rex” (X Scriptt. 372. Cf. the Abbot’s Genealogia Regum, 362, 363), and in the French Life (v. 131) we read—

“Li rois Aedgard avoit un fiz
K’ert de force e sens garniz,
Ædelred k’out non, bon justisers,
K’en pees peisible en guerre ert fers.”

In short, for historical purposes, the French Life is absolutely worthless, and Æthelred himself, though often preserving little authentic touches, must be used with the greatest caution. But he, or rather Osbert whom he follows, evidently drew largely from the Biographer. In some cases rhetorical expressions in the authentic Life seem, in the hands of the professed hagiographers, to have grown into legendary facts. Thus the Biographer tells us (393, 394) that, when Emma was with child of Eadward, popular expectation looked forward to the birth of a future King, and that, when the child was born, he was at once seen to be worthy to reign (“Antiqui Regis Æthelredi regiâ conjuge utero gravidâ, in ejus partûs sobole si masculus prodiret, omnis conjurat patria, in eo se dominum exspectare et Regem.... Natus ergo puer dignus præmonstratur patriæ sacramento, qui quandoque paterni sullimaretur solio”). This, in another and more rhetorical passage (428), swells into “Felicissimæ mentionis Rex Ædwardus ante natalis sui diem Deo est electus, unde ad regnum non tam ab hominibus quam, ut supra diximus, divinitùs est consecratus.” All this is quite possible in a sense. That is to say, men may have speculated on the possibility of a son of Emma supplanting the children of the first Ælfgifu, just as Æthelred himself had supplanted his brother Eadward. In Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 372) the rhetoric of the Biographer grows into a regular election of the unborn babe. He is, after much deliberation, chosen by all the people (“magnus episcoporum procerumque conventus, magnus plebisque vulgique concursus”), in preference alike to his half-brother Eadmund Ironside and to his own brother Ælfred, who is erroneously supposed to be the elder of the two. A Norman Chronicler goes a step further. The historian of Saint Wandrille (Chron. Fontanellense, ap. D’Achery, ii. 286) describes Eadward as being not only elected but crowned in his childhood (“Eguvardus, qui prior natu erat, tener admodum et in puerilibus adhuc annis constitutus Rex, jubente patre et favente populo terræ unctus est et consecratus”). Here the command of Æthelred comes first; the will of the people is something quite secondary. In the time of the French biographer, popular election of Kings was a thing which had altogether gone out of date, and which was not likely to be acceptable at the Court of Henry the Third. The story is left out accordingly.

No feature in the legendary history of Eadward fills a more prominent position in hagiography, none has won him more admiration from hagiographers, than the terms on which he is said to have lived with his wife. It is certain that, at a time when it was especially needful to provide direct heirs to the Crown, the marriage of Eadward and Eadgyth was childless. Eadward’s monastic admirers attribute this fact to the resolution of Eadward, shared, according to some writers, by Eadgyth also, to devote himself to a life of perpetual virginity. When we come to examine the evidence, we shall find that this is one of those cases in which each later writer knows more than the writers before him. The earliest statements which have any bearing on the subject, though consistent with the monastic theory, do not necessarily imply it, and there are indications which look the other way. The tale grows as it is handed down from one panegyrist to another, in a way which naturally awakens suspicion. And when we consider the portrait of Eadward which is given us, his personal appearance, his personal temperament, and most of his tastes, we shall perhaps be led to guess that the unfruitfulness of Eadward’s marriage was owing neither to any religious impediment nor yet to barrenness on the part of a daughter of Godwine. The story is probably due to a very natural process. The fact of Eadgyth’s childlessness was explained by her husband’s admirers in the way which, to their monastic imaginations, seemed most honourable to him, and details of course grew in the usual fashion.

Let us now look through the evidence.

Florence and the prose text of the Chronicles are silent on the subject. The poem in the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles says that Eadward was

“Kyningc cystum gód,
Clæne and milde,
Eadward se æðela.”

But surely this is no more than might be said of any man who was chaste before marriage and faithful to his wife afterwards. The Biographer has several passages which may be thought to bear on the subject. He says (428) that Eadward “consecrationis dignitatem sanctam conservans castimoniâ, omnem vitam agebat Deo dicatam in verâ innocentiâ.” This again need not mean anything more than the words of the poem. In the account of Bishop Brihtwold’s vision (394), Saint Peter is seen to crown Eadward and “cœlibem ei vitam designare.” One might say that this is vision and not history, but the vision would of course be devised so as to fit in with what was held to be the history. But, strange as it may seem, the word cœlebs, as used by the Biographer, does not imply either virginity or single life. He uses it (409. See above, P. 383) to express the conjugal fidelity of Tostig, who was undoubtedly the father of children. Elsewhere (p. 429) Eadward is called “columbinæ puritatis Rex,” a phrase which may mean anything, but in the passage in which it occurs there is no special mention of chastity. Lastly, Eadward (433) on his death-bed is made to say of Eadgyth, “Obsequuta est mihi devotè, et lateri meo semper propiùs adstitit in loco carissimæ filiæ.” But this is surely no more than might be said by any maundering old man of a wife much younger than himself. In none of these passages is there any direct assertion of any vow or of any practice of virginity on the part of Eadward. His chastity is undoubtedly praised. But the language in which it is praised does not necessarily imply anything more than might be said with equal truth of any faithful husband. If the Biographer had any idea of the religious virginity of his hero and heroine, he would surely have expressed himself more distinctly. He would hardly have called Eadgyth “tori ejus consocia” (418), without some sort of qualification. If any one should say that the Biographer’s work is dedicated to Eadgyth herself, and that he would not enlarge to her on such a subject, he is looking at the matter with the feelings of our own age. The age of Eadward felt quite differently on such points. The panegyrists of Queens like Pulcheria and Æthelthryth took care that the light of those saintly ladies should in no case be bidden under a bushel. On the whole, I am inclined to think that the expressions of the Biographer, looked at critically, rather tell against the monastic theory. But such ambiguous expressions may well contain the germ of the legend.

One or two other points may be mentioned. Eadward is said (see above, p. 524) to have made an agreement with Swend Estrithson, by which the Danish prince was to succeed to the English Crown, “vel si filios susceperit.” Such an agreement, or even any general belief in the existence of such an agreement, is inconsistent with such a vow on Eadward’s part as the monastic writers pretend. William of Malmesbury again (ii. 228), in an unguarded moment, when he is discussing the policy of the King and not the merits of the saint, says that Eadward sent for the Ætheling from Hungary, “quod ipse non susceperat liberos.” And Eadward himself, if it be Eadward who speaks in the Westminster charters, gives as his reason for not going in person to Rome, that the royal race would be jeoparded in his person, “maxime quod nullum habebam filium” (Cod. Dipl. iv. 174). Such language would hardly be used if the possibility of children had been cut off by any religious vow, formally made and generally known. Again, if Eadward had been known to be under such a vow, it is much less clear why Godwine should be anxious for the marriage of Eadward and Eadgyth. The sacrifice of his daughter would be much less intelligible, if there was no chance of its being rewarded by the succession of a grandson of Godwine to the Crown.

We will now look to the accounts which tell the other way. As might be expected, the earlier statements are very much less full and positive than the later. As long as Eadward, however deeply reverenced, was still not a canonized saint, the subject was one which might be discussed, and different opinions might be put forth about it. After the canonization, the slightest doubt would of course have passed for blasphemy.

Thus William of Jumièges (vii. 9) asserts the fact, but somewhat doubtfully; “Ut inter eos [Eadward and Godwine] firmus amor jugiter maneret, Editham filiam ejus uxorem nomine tenus duxit. Nam reverà, ut dicunt, ambo perpetuam virginitatem conservaverunt.” William of Malmesbury, who, as we have seen, elsewhere forgets the story altogether, also asserts the fact, but he is in doubt as to the motive, and he seems certainly to know of no vow on the part of Eadgyth. He most likely had the words of the Biographer, “tori ejus consocia,” before him when he wrote (ii. 197); “Nuptam sibi Rex hâc arte tractabat, ut nec toro amoveret nec virili more cognosceret; quod an familiæ illius odio, quod prudenter dissimulabat pro tempore, an amore castitatis fecerit, compertum non habeo. Illud celeberrimè fertur, numquam illum cujusquam mulieris contubernio pudicitiam læsisse.” His account of Eadgyth is singular. She was suspected of unchastity, both during Eadward’s lifetime and after his death; but on her death-bed she cleared herself by a solemn and voluntary oath, seemingly without calling in the help of compurgators. Wace again, in the Roman de Rou (9883), gives the report, but does not seem very certain or emphatic about it;

“Feme prist la fille Gwine,
Edif out nom, bele meschine,
Maiz entrels n’orent nul enfant;
E ço alouent la gent disant,
Ke charnelment od li ne jut,
Ne charnelment ne la conut:
Mais unkes hom ne l’aparçut,
Ne mal talent entrels ne fut.”

Wace, as Prevost remarks in his note, seems hardly to have known of Eadgyth’s disgrace, if not divorce, in 1051. The Hyde writer again, who, whoever he was and whenever he wrote, often preserved independent traditions, and who clearly exercised a sort of judgement of his own, knows the tale only as a report (288); “Fertur tamen Regem Edwardum numquam cum eâdem carnis habuisse consortium, sed mundissimæ vitæ semper dilexisse cœlibatum.”

Here we get the story in its second stage. Eadward’s reputation for sanctity is advancing: the fact of Eadgyth’s childlessness, and the ambiguous expressions of the contemporary writers, are now commonly interpreted in a particular way. Still this interpretation has not yet become an article of faith. For the fully developed legend, setting forth the saint in all his glory, we must go to Æthelred of Rievaux and his followers. They of course know everything, down to the minutest details of everybody’s thoughts and prayers. The story will be found in Æthelred (X Scriptt. 377, 378), and it is versified at great length in the French Life (p. 55 et seqq.). As soon as Eadward is established on the throne, his Witan, anxious about the succession, urge him to marry. The vow seems to be assumed. On the mention of marriage, Eadward is in a great strait; he is afraid to refuse; at the same time he is anxious not to violate his chastity. His prayers and meditations are given at great length, including much talk about the not exactly apposite examples of Joseph and Susanna. At last the difficulty is escaped by his marrying the daughter of Godwine, of whose piety as well as beauty a wonderful description is given. There is of course not a word about the suspicions spoken of by William of Malmesbury, any more than there is about the murder of Gospatric. Eadgyth happily chances to be of the same peculiar turn as Eadward himself; so they exactly suit one another. They marry; but they agree to live, and do live, in great mutual affection, but only as brother and sister. A new scriptural allusion happily presents itself, and Eadgyth is promoted to the rank of a “nova Abisac.” The unlucky expression of the Biographer about “locus carissimæ filiæ” is of course seized up and amplified. Eadward, on his death-bed, addresses Eadgyth as “filia mea” (X Scriptt. 402). The Biographer (433) had made Eadward commend Eadgyth to the care of her brother Harold, “ut pro dominâ [hlæfdige] et sorore, ut est, fideli serves et honores obsequio.” Æthelred either misunderstood the passage, or else flew off at the word “soror.” He tells us (402), “Reginam deinde fratri proceribusque commendans, ejus plurimùm laudabat obsequium, et pudicitiam prædicabat, quæ se quidem uxorem gerebat in publico, sed sororem vel filiam in occulto.”

It will be remembered that William of Jumièges, Wace, and the Hyde writer, mention the story only as a report; William of Malmesbury seems to accept the fact as undoubted, and is uncertain only as to the motive. According to Æthelred (378), the public mind in Eadward’s own time was in the same state as the mind of William of Malmesbury a generation or two later. No one doubted the fact; “Ne aliquis huic Regis virtuti fidem deroget, sciat hoc tempore illius per totam Angliam sic divulgatum et creditum, ut de facto certi plerique de intentione certarent.” People who—like William of Malmesbury—failed to rise to the full appreciation of Eadward’s saintship, thought it might be because Eadward was unwilling to raise up grandsons to the traitor Godwine. Such rationalizing doubts are indignantly dismissed; “Quidam nihil nisi carnem et sanguinem sapientes, simplicitati regiæ [a clear hit at William] hoc imponebat, quod compulsus generi se miscuerit proditorum, et ne proditores procrearet, operi supersederet conjugali. Sed si consideretur amor quo se complectebantur, facilè contemnitur talis opinio. Hoc idcirco inserendum putavi, ut sciatur neminem tunc de Regis continentiâ dubitâsse, quum de caussâ taliter disputaverint.” So it is that men get better informed, the further removed they are from personal knowledge of the events.

Having reached the perfect story in Æthelred, it is needless to carry on the examination any further. I will only add that some specially eloquent talk on the subject will be found in the Ramsey History, cap. cxx. (p. 461), and that in Æthelred (377) we first find the line which has become more famous through the false Ingulf, “Sicut spina rosam genuit Godwinus Edivam.”

NOTE C. p. 29.
Eadward’s Fondness for Foreign Churchmen.

I may here quote a curious story about the relations between Eadward and Eadgyth and a foreign Abbot, which I cannot do better than give in the original Latin. The hero of the tale was Abbot of the famous monastery of Saint Riquier in Picardy. The church is a splendid one, but of late date; not far off is the municipal beffroi, to which the inhabitants still point with pride as the memorial of struggles waged with, and victories gained over, their ecclesiastical lords.

“Regi Anglorum Hetguardo Gervinus semper carus et venerabilis fuit, et ab illo, si ejus fines intrâsset, mirâ honorificentia attollebatur. Quique Rex, si eum in aliquâ vel pro aliquâ loci nostri necessitate angustiari comperisset, munificus valdè in succurrendo, remotâ omni excusatione, exsistebat. Regina etiam conjux ejusdem, nomine Edith, satis superque Gervinum pro suæ merito sanctitatis diligebat et venerabatur, et juxta mariti exemplum admodùm liberalis, si aliqua petiisset, libens conferebat. Quâdam vero vice accidit ut Abbati nuperrimè terram illam ingresso osculum salutationis et pacis Regina porrigeret, quod ille gratiâ conservandæ sinceritatis abhorrens excipere noluit. At illa ferox, videns se Reginam spretam à monacho, nimis molestè tulit, et quædam quæ, ut pro se orâsset, illi donare statuerat, irata retraxit. Verûm, marito id ipsum increpante, quod Abbatem tam religiosum pro non infracto rigore odio insequi voluisset, et aliis honestis viris suggerentibus non esse odiendum hominem qui sic Deo se mancipâsset, ut ne Reginæ quidem osculo se pateretur contra ordinem mulceri, placata est Regina, et hujusmodi factum non solum in illo non vituperavit, sed magnæ laudis attollens præconio, in sui regni Episcopis vel Abbatibus talem manere consuetudinem deinceps conquesta est. Multis ergo honoribus et donis eum fulciens remittebat onustum, hoc solum ab eo reposcens ut tempore orationis inter benefactores computari mereretur. Uxor etiam ipsius Regis donavit ei amictum valdè pretiosum, auro et lapide pretioso mirificè decoratum, quem Abbas detulit in nostræ ecclesiæ thesaurum.” Chron. Centulense, iv. 22. ap. D’Achery, ii. 345.

This story is referred to, but inaccurately, in Mr. Thorpe’s Lappenberg, ii. 244. There is no mention of it in the original, p. 504.

Saint Riquier however does not appear to have held lands in England in Eadward’s time, but this was not the last begging expedition of Gervinus to our shores. On the gifts of Eadward and Eadgyth to Saint Denis, Fécamp, and other monasteries, see Ellis, i. 304, 307, 324. Cod. Dipl. iv. 229. cf. 251.

Another reference to Eadward’s lavishness in this way is found in the Chronicle of Saint Wandrille in the same volume of D’Achery (ii. 286); “Uxorem quoque filiam Hotuvini [sic] magni illius terræ principis, qui fratrem suum Alureth jampridem cum multis crudeliter atque dolo peremerat, accepit, eosque quos secum de Nortmannis duxerat utriusque ordinis amplis honoribus extulit, auro et argento ditavit.”

NOTE D. p. 31.
English and Norman Estimates of Godwine and Harold.

There is a remarkable passage of William of Malmesbury, in which, as his manner often is, he sets before his readers two different accounts or opinions of the same thing. He there contrasts the Norman and English accounts of Godwine and his sons, in words which seem, like several other passages, to show that he had the contemporary Biographer before him. His words (ii. 197) are;

“Hunc [Archbishop Robert] cum reliquis Angli moderni vituperant delatorem Godwini et filiorum ejus, hunc discordiæ seminatorem, hunc archiepiscopii emptorem; Godwinum et natos magnanimos viros, et industrios auctores et tutores regni Edwardi; non mirum si succensuerint quod novos homines et advenas sibi præferri viderent; numquam tamen contra Regem, quem semel fastigaverint, asperum etiam verbum loquutos. Contra, Normanni sic se defensitant, ut dicant et cum et filios magnâ arrogantiâ et infidelitate in Regem et in familiares ejus egisse, æquas sibi partes in imperio vindicantes; sæpe de ejus simplicitate solitos nugari, sæpe insignes facetias in illum jaculari: id Normannos perpeti nequivisse, quin illorum potentiam quantùm possent enervarent.”

In this passage William very fairly carries out his promise of letting each side tell its own story. Which of the two pictures is borne out by particular facts, we shall see at the proper stages of the history; it may not be amiss to collect here a few of the more general pictures of Godwine and Harold drawn according to the two models. In the case of Harold, I confine myself to those passages, whether panegyrics or invectives, which concern his general character and his administration as Earl. Those which concern either his relations to William or his character as King I reserve for notice at a later stage.

Of Godwine personally none of the Chronicles give any formal character, but the Worcester Chronicler (1052) gives a picture of the power of himself and house, setting forth their influence as strongly as any of the Norman writers, but with an exactly opposite colouring. “Forðam þe he [Godwine] wæs ær to þam swyðe up ahafen, swyce he weolde þæs Cynges and ealles Englalandes, and his sunan wæron Eorlas and þæs Cynges dyrlingas, and his dohtor þæm Cynge bewedden and beæwnod.” Of Harold both the Abingdon and the Worcester Chroniclers give a panegyric in the poem on Eadward which they insert in the year 1065. He is there, as if in direct answer to the Norman account, warmly praised for his strict loyalty to the King.

“And se froda swa þeah
Befæste þæt rice
Heahþungenum menn
Harolde sylfum
Æþelum Eorle;
Se in ealle tid
Hyrde holdlice
Hærran sinum,
Wordum and dædum,
Wihte ne agælde
Þæs þe þearf wæs
Þæs þeodkyninges.”

Florence gives no character of Godwine; of Harold—“strenuus Dux Haroldus”—he always speaks with evident affection, but his formal panegyric, and a magnificent one it is, he keeps back till Harold’s election to the Crown.

The Biographer’s description of Godwine I have had occasion to refer to at vol. i. 450. Of Harold he gives a most elaborate portrait, of which I have made great use in the text. I spare the reader this writer’s poetical panegyrics, except when they illustrate some special point: but I will quote one or two passages which compare the father and the son in a general sort of way. Godwine, he tells us, on his appointment as Earl of the West-Saxons (see vol. i. p. 469),

“Adeptus tanti honoris primatum non se extulit, sed omnibus bonis se pro posse patrem præbuit: quia quam à puero addidicerat mentis mansuetudinem non exuit; verùm hanc, ut naturaliter sibi indita, erga subditos et inter pares æternâ assiduitate excoluit. Undecumque emergerent injuriæ, in hoc jus et lex imprompta recuperabatur. Unde non pro domino habebatur, sed à cunctis patriæ filiis pro patre colebatur. Nati sunt ergo filii et filiæ tanto patri non degeneres, sed paternâ et maternâ probitate insignes, in quibus nutriendis studiosiùs his artibus agitur, quibus futuro regno munimen pariter et juvamen in his paratur.” (392, 393.)

So, in p. 408, on describing the death of Godwine and the accession of Harold to his Earldom, he says;

“Haroldus ... amicus gentis suæ et patriæ vices celebrat patris intentiùs, et ejusdem gressibus incedit, patientiâ scilicet et misericordiâ, et affabilitate cum benè volentibus. Porrò inquietatis, furibus, sive prædonibus, leonino terrore et vultu minabatur gladiator justus.”

The Waltham winters are of course Harold’s sworn panegyrists; their testimony must therefore be taken with caution, though certainly not with more caution than the testimony of Harold’s calumniators, the sworn panegyrists of William. I forbear to enlarge on the “Vita Haroldi,” where the hero of the piece figures as “vir venerabilis,” “vir Dei,” and so forth. These epithets of course refer far more to Harold’s imaginary penance and seclusion as a hermit than they do to his real merits as Earl and as King. I will quote this romantic writer only for one passage, in which he is plunged into difficulties by the calumnious accounts of Godwine and his family, which in his time were generally received. Godwine, according to him, began to practise deceit only as far as was needful for his own safety in troublous times; corrupted by this dangerous familiarity with crime, he gradually grew into actual treason. But admiration of Harold, combined with at least partial censure of Godwine, is not peculiar to this romancer. It is the position of the Abingdon Chronicler.

The account of Godwine given by Harold’s biographer runs thus;

“Constat ipsius [Haroldi] genitorem vel cæterorum quosdam de illius genere, tantum proditionis, tantum et aliorum notâ facinorum infamatos gravitèr fuisse. His vero malis, necessitate cavendi imminentis exitii, Godwinus se primò immiscuit, deinde ulteriùs evagatur. Tuendæ siquidem salutis obtentu dolum tentare compulsus, dum semel cedit ad votum, fraudibus in posterum minuendæ felicitatis intuitu licentiùs nitebatur.” (Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, ii. 152.)

He then tells the story, which I have mentioned in vol. i. p. 467, about the way in which Godwine obtained Gytha in marriage. He then goes on;

“Quo tamen eventu Godwinus in Dacorum plusquam satis favorem effusus, gentis suæ quampluribus fiebat infestus; nonnullos quoque de semine regio, quorum unus frater sancti Edwardi fuit, dolo perdidit; sicque non modò in concives, immo et in dominos naturales [cyne-hlafordas] non pauca deliquit” (154).

He then winds up by rebuking those who turned the crimes of Godwine to the discredit of Harold. Harold here, not Eadgyth, is the rose sprung from the thorn; “Sic rutilos producit, sic niveos quasi nutrit rosarum liliorumque spina flores” (155).

This writer’s notion of Godwine favouring the Danes against the English is found also in the Roman de Rou (9809). He is telling the story of Ælfred (see vol. i. p. 544);

“Cuntre li vint Quens Gwine,
Ki mult esteit de pute orine;
Feme out de Danemarche née,
De Daneiz bien emparentée,
Filz out Héraut, Guert, è Tosti.
Pur li enfez ke jo vus di,
Ki de Daneiz esteient né,
E de Daneiz erent amé,
Ama Gwine li Daneiz
Mult mielx k’il ne fist li Engleiz.
Oez cum fu fete déablie,
Grant traïsun, grant félunie:
Traistre fu, traïsun fist,
Ki en la lei Judas se mist.”

To return to the Waltham writers, the witness of the writer “De Inventione” is worth infinitely more than that of Harold’s biographer. The affectionate tribute which he pays to Harold is clearly something more than mere conventional panegyric on a founder. Harold was chosen King, “quia non erat eo prudentior in terrâ, armis strenuus magis, legum terræ sagacior, in omni genere probitatis cultior” (p. 25 Stubbs). At his death (27) the lament is, “Cadit Rex ab hoste fero, gloria regni, decus cleri, fortitudo militiæ, inermium clipeus, certantium firmitas, tutamen debilium, consolatio desolatorum, indigentium reparator, procerum gemma.”

Such were the great father and son as they seemed in the eyes of Englishmen of their own times and in the eyes of those who in after times cherished purely English traditions. Let us see how they appeared to the Norman writers of their own day, and to those who follow that Norman tradition which permanently triumphed. It would be easy to prolong the list indefinitely, but I think it needless to refer to any but writers of the eleventh and twelfth centuries. On the whole, they are more fierce against Godwine than against Harold. They allow Godwine hardly any excellence beyond mere power of speech, while several of them are quite ready to do justice to Harold’s great qualities in other respects, even while they condemn his supposed perjury and usurpation. The first however, and, in some respects, the most important, William of Poitiers, the immediate follower and laureate of the Conqueror, has not the slightest mercy for either father or son. He stops twice in the course of his history to apostrophize, first Godwine (p. 79 Giles) and then Harold (p. 111), in terms of virulent abuse, the declamation in the latter case being brought in with the formula, “Paucis igitur de affabimur, Heralde.” But these addresses contain nothing but the old stories about the death of Ælfred and the oath to William. Elsewhere (126) the Lexovian Archdeacon gives his general character of Harold, describing him as “luxuriâ fœdum, truculentum homicidam, divite rapinâ superbum, adversarium æqui et boni.” “Truculentus homicida,” as appears from the context, means “victor at Stamfordbridge;” “luxuriâ fœdus” may possibly mean “lover of Eadgyth Swanneshals.”

William of Jumièges writes of Godwine in the same strain as William of Poitiers. Harold is of course usurper, perjurer, and so forth, but there is no such set abuse of him as we find in the Gesta Guillelmi. Of Godwine he writes (vii. 9);

“Ferox dolique commentor Godvinus eo tempore Comes in Angliâ potentissimus erat, et magnam regni Anglorum partem fortiter tenebat, quam ex parentum nobilitate [a contrast to the description in Wace] seu vi vel fraudulentiâ vendicaverat. Edwardus itaque metuens tanti viri potentiâ lædi dolove solito, Normannorum consultu, quorum fido vigebat solatio, indignam Aluredi fratris sui perniciem ei benignitèr indulsit.”

Other writers on the same side are more generous, at any rate towards Harold. Orderic, as usual, fluctuates between his two characters of born Englishman and Norman monk. In his Norman monastery he had been taught that Harold was a wicked usurper, and he speaks of him accordingly. But natural admiration for an illustrious countryman makes him, once at least, burst his trammels, and he ventures to say (492 B); “Erat idem Anglus magnitudine et elegantiâ, viribusque corporis animique audaciâ, et linguæ facundiâ, multisque facetiisque et probitatibus admirabilis.” One can almost forgive him when he adds, “Sed quid ei tanta dona sine fide, quæ bonorum omnium fundamentum est, contulerunt?”

In the like spirit Benoît de Sainte-More, though denouncing Harold (Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, i. 174) as “Parjur, faus, pleins de coveitise,” yet elsewhere (i. 193) gives him this generous tribute;

“Proz ert Heraut e vertuos,

E empernanz e corajos.

N’estoveit pas en nule terre

Sos ciel meillor chevaler querre.

Beaus estait trop e bons parlers,

Donierre e larges viandiers.”

The series of English writers under Norman influence may be said to begin with Henry of Huntingdon. It is strange that one who has preserved so much of old English tradition should be so absolutely without English feeling in the great controversy of all. We have already (vol. i. p. 543) seen some specimens of his way of dealing with Godwine. As for Harold, he tells the legend of his quarrel with Tostig, of which I shall speak elsewhere, and goes on (M. H. B. 761 B); “Tantæ namque sævitiæ fratres illi erant, quod quum alicujus nitidam villam conspicerent, dominatorem de nocte interfici juberent totamque progeniem illius, possessionemque defuncti obtinerent; et isti quidem justitiarii erant regni.” This is somewhat expanded by Roger of Wendover—to quote an author rather later than the limit which I had laid down. All the sons of Godwine, Wulfnoth perhaps included, were partakers in these evil deeds (“Tantæ namque iniquitatis omnes filii Godwini proditoris erant.” i. 508), and Henry’s last clause is expanded into, “qui tamen, super tot flagitia, Regis simplicitatem ita circumvenerunt, quod ipsos regni justitiarios constituerit et rectores.” What was the exact notion of “justitiarii” in the minds of Henry and Roger?

Eadward’s own special panegyrist, Æthelred of Rievaux, is hardly so bitter against Harold as might have been looked for. Of course he speaks of his accession in the usual fashion, and he tells the legend of his enmity with Tostig. Of Godwine he gives (X Scriptt. 377) the following picture, which is at least valuable as witnessing to the still abiding memory of Godwine’s power of speech;

“Erat inter potentes Angliæ omnium potentissimus Comes Godwinus, vir magnarum opum sed astutiæ singularis, Regum regnique proditor, qui, doctus fallere et quælibet dissimulare consuetus, facilè populum ad cujuslibet factionis inclinabat assensum.”

I will now turn to two or three writers who are neither English nor Norman. The biographer of Olaf Tryggwesson seems to stand alone in wishing to make a saint of Harold (“Haraldur Gudina son, er sumir kalla helgan vera.” p. 263). This is remarkable, for, though he mentions, as we shall hereafter see, the tale that Harold was not killed on the field at Senlac, he seems to know nothing of his penitence and hermit life. But other Scandinavian and German writers seem quite to take the Norman view of things. Thus Adam of Bremen (iii. 13) says of the sons of Godwine, “Tenuerunt Angliam in ditione suâ, Eduardo tantùm vitâ et inani Regis nomine contento.” So also his Scholiast, “Harold ... ipsum cognatum et dominum suum, Regem Eduardum pro nihilo habuit.” Elsewhere (iii. 51) he calls Harold “vir maleficus.” Saxo, of whose ideas I have already given some specimens (see vol. i. p. 592), is more violent against Harold than any one else. Having told his wonderful tale about the slaughter of the Danes after the death of Harthacnut, he goes on (p. 203);

“Igitur Haraldus, Danicæ oppressionis simulque domesticæ libertatis auctor, Edvardo summam, factâ non animi ejus sed sanguinis æstimatione, permittit, quatenus ille nominis, ipse rerum usurpatione regnaret, et quo nobilitate pervenire non posset, potentiâ vallatus assurgeret. Edvardus vero, solâ generis auctoritate non prudentiæ ratione munitus, vano majestatis obtentu pravorum ingenia majorumque petulantiam nutriebat, titulo Rex patriæ, conditione miserabilis procerum verna, contentus quod alii fructum, ipse umbram tantùm ac speciem occupâsset. Ità Anglorum inter se summam nomen atque potentiam diviserunt, titulique jus ac rerum dominium veluti diversis ab invicem gradibus differebant.” He then goes on with his wild tale, which I have had occasion to mention already (see p. 413), about Harold killing Eadward. Elsewhere (p. 207) he uses the words “Haraldus, cui scelera Mali cognomen adjecerant,” in which it is not very clear whether he means our Harold or Harold Hardrada.

Snorro gives no portrait of Harold, and his genealogy, as we shall see, is utterly confused. But he gives a picture of Harold’s relations to Eadward which is at least widely different from that of Saxo. He makes him the King’s favourite and foster son (“Hann fæddiz upp í hird, Játvardar Konungs, oc var hans fóstr son, oc unni Konungr honöm geysi mikit, oc hafdi hann fyrir son ser; þvíat Konúngrinn átti eigi barn.” Johnstone, 189. Laing, iii. 75).

I leave it to the reader to judge which description, either of father or son, is better borne out by the facts of the history. I will only add that, in this case also, calumny, as usual, preserves a certain propriety. Godwine was a crafty, and not always scrupulous, statesman; Harold was a hero. The calumnies levelled at each are such as would naturally be levelled at a crafty statesman and a hero respectively.

NOTE E. p. 32.
The Alleged Spoliations of the Church by Godwine and Harold.

The charge of sacrilege, of spoliation of churches and monasteries, is one which Godwine and Harold share with almost every powerful man of those times. William of Malmesbury speaks of it as a characteristic of the reign of Eadward; only he adds that the King’s panegyrists attributed this, along with the other evils of the time, to Godwine and his sons. According to them, it was for these crimes of one sort or another that Eadward banished the whole family. The whole passage (ii. 196) is curious;

“Fuerunt tamen nonnulla quæ gloriam temporum deturpârunt; monasteria tunc monachis viduata; prava judicia à perversis hominibus commissa.... Sed harum rerum invidiam amatores ipsius ità extenuare conantur; monasteriorum destructio, perversitas judiciorum, non ejus scientiâ, sed per Godwini filiorumque ejus sunt commissa violentiam, qui Regis ridebant indulgentiam; postea tamen ad eum delata, acritèr illorum exsilio vindicata.”

This is of course Norman talk, and we know very well what to think of the “perversitas judiciorum.” But for the charge of destruction of monasteries there is undoubtedly a groundwork of fact, and it will be worth while to go through the evidence on which Godwine and his sons are charged with this and other acts of sacrilege. On this evidence I have two general comments to make.

First, In estimating charges of this sort we must remember that we commonly hear one side only. The works of Ealdorman Æthelweard and Count Fulk form so small a portion of our authorities that we may say that the whole history of these times was written exclusively by churchmen. And those churchmen were far more commonly monks than seculars. The monks of course tell the story their own way, and we do not often get the layman’s answer. A legal claim against a monastery or other ecclesiastical body runs a very fair chance of being represented as a fraudulent or violent occupation. And Domesday is hardly an impartial witness for a charge against Harold. If he acquired lands by as good a title as he acquired the Crown, the Norman writers would, if they had the least excuse, speak of their acquisition in the same way in which they speak of his acquisition of the Crown.

Secondly, It was a very common thing for the reeves or other officers of powerful men to deal very freely with both monastic and other lands that came in their way. This they sometimes did without the knowledge of their masters. Thus Heming, in the Worcester Cartulary (p. 391), reckons three classes of “maligni homines” who unjustly deprived the Church of Worcester of its possessions. First come the “Dani hanc patriam invadentes;” secondly, after them (“postea”), are the “injusti præpositi et regii exactores;” lastly, in his own day (“istis temporibus”) come the “violenti Normanni.” Sir Henry Ellis (ii. 142) has collected a number of instances of spoliation by underlings, of one of which, the story about Christ Church and Harold Harefoot, I have already spoken (see vol. i. p. 562). Some of these I shall have to mention again.

Now we shall come across distinct evidence that some of the charges against Godwine and Harold come under one or other of these heads. And in estimating other charges of the kind against Godwine, Harold, or anybody else, we should always bear in mind that we are hearing one side only, and that it is quite probable that an equally good defence might be forthcoming. The charge of sacrilege is brought against Godwine in the one English Chronicle which may be called in some degree hostile to him. The Abingdon Chronicle (1052) recording his death, adds, “Ac he dyde ealles to lytle dædbote of þære Godes are þe he hæfde of manegum halgum stowum.” But even this must be read with the same qualification.

The general picture of destruction of monasteries mentioned by William of Malmesbury sounds strange at a time when so many monasteries were being founded and endowed and their churches being rebuilt. I conceive that it rests mainly on two remarkable cases, those of the Abbeys of Berkeley and Leominster, which seem to have got confounded together in legendary history. I trust that I have shown elsewhere that Leominster Abbey was dissolved after the affair of Swegen and Eadgifu in 1046 (see above, p. 89). I conceive it to be a legendary version of this story when Walter Map (De Nugis Curialium, p. 201, ed. Wright) tells a tale of the destruction of Berkeley nunnery, how Godwine sets a handsome nephew to seduce the nuns, how he then complains to the King of their misconduct, how he procures the dissolution of the house and the grant of its possessions to himself. It is certain that there was a real suppression of a monastery at Berkeley, and that Godwine profited by it in some way or other. As in Domesday we find Leominster in the hands of the Lady Eadgyth, with only a most incidental mention of the nuns, so we find Berkeley (163) in the hands of the King, without any mention of monks or nuns, or of Godwine either. But that there had been a monastery at Berkeley appears from a variety of evidence. See Cod. Dipl. i. 276. ii. 111. Flor. Wig. 805, 915, in the former of which years we find an Abbess, Ceolburh by name, presiding over the house, while in the latter it was governed by an Abbot, Æthelhun. But, as Professor Stubbs has shown in the Archæological Journal, vol. xix. (1862), p. 248, the existence of an Abbess does not necessarily imply the presence of nuns, as many monasteries seem to have had either Abbots or Abbesses, as suited family convenience. There is also mention of nuns at Berkeley at a time later than Godwine, in a charter of Adeliza, Queen of Henry the First (Monasticon, iv. 42, and vi. 1618), and in the Pipe Roll of 31 Hen. I. (ed. Hunter, p. 133; “investitura iii. monialium, lx.s.” For this last reference I have to thank Professor Stubbs). By the Charter of Adeliza the Church of Berkeley, with the “Prebends of two nuns,” was granted to the new Abbey of Reading, by which the church was afterwards transferred to Saint Augustine’s at Bristol (Smyth’s Lives of the Berkeleys, p. 49). But the whole account of these later nuns of Berkeley is very obscure, and whatever they were, they must have been a revival of the old foundation later than the time of Godwine. For the destruction of the monastery at Berkeley, and Godwine’s share in it, are undoubted facts, though we are left without any explanation as to their causes. A most remarkable entry in Domesday (164) tells us that, when Godwine was at Berkeley, his wife Gytha refused to eat anything which came out of that lordship, because of a pious scruple arising out of the destruction of the Abbey. Godwine therefore bought of Azor, a man of whom we often hear, the lordship of Woodchester (a place near Stroud, noted for its Roman remains), for her maintenance when in Gloucestershire (“Gueda mater Heraldi Comitis tenuit Udecestre. Godwinus Comes emit ab Azor, et dedit suæ uxori, ut inde viveret, donec ad Berchelai maneret. Nolebat enim de ipso manerio aliquid comedere, propter destructionem Abbatiæ.” We have no further account, except the evidently mythical tale told by Walter Map. It is by no means clear whether there were or were not any nuns at Berkeley in Godwine’s time, and probably no one would accept Walter Map’s tale as it stands. But that tale may very likely be a romantic improvement of the story of Swegen and Eadgifu, transferred from Leominster to Berkeley. Both Leominster and Berkeley were monasteries suppressed in the reign of Eadward. Godwine or his family were concerned in, or profited by, the suppression of both. Both were restored, in one shape or another, in later ways; both became connected with the Abbey of Reading. To substitute one name for the other was one of the most obvious of confusions. The details of the story of course grew, like the details of other stories. Berkeley Abbey, at all events, was suppressed, and Godwine had a power of disposing of its revenues. Here then we have one clear case in which Godwine was concerned in the destruction of a monastery. We do not know whether he had any justification to offer for his conduct, but we know that it was not approved by his own wife.

It appears also that Godwine was charged by the Norman Archbishop Robert with converting some lands belonging to the see of Canterbury to his own use. Here however we for once get the Godwinist version. The lands of the Earl and the Archbishop joined, and there was a dispute about boundaries. We cannot, at this distance of time, say in whose favour a jury would have decided; but it is plain that Robert claimed lands of which Godwine was in actual possession, and that Godwine’s friends looked upon the Archbishop and not the Earl as the intruder. This is a very important case, from our having the tale told from the side of the layman. It is a case which by itself would be enough to make us always weigh the possibility that there may have been another side to many other cases in which we get only the churchman’s statement. It is impossible for us now to tell on whose side the legal right lay in the dispute between Godwine and Robert; but there is every appearance that it was simply a question for a legal tribunal, one in which each side may well have urged its claims in good faith. The story, as told by the Biographer of Eadward (p. 400), runs as follows;

“Accedebat autem ad exercendos odiorum motus pro Episcopo in caussam justam quod terræ quædam Ducis contiguæ erant quibusdam terris quæ ad Christi attinebant Ecclesiam [that is, Christ Church, Canterbury]. Crebræ quoque erant inter eos controversiæ, quod eum dicebat terras archiepiscopatûs sui invasisse, et in injuriâ suâ usibus suis eas tenere. Ferebat autem idem industrius Dux incautiùs furentem Episcopum pacificè.... Coquebat tamen vehementiùs quosdam suorum illa Ducis injuria, et nisi ejus obstiterit prohibitio, gravi Episcopum persæpe multâssent contumeliâ.”

In this last clause we seem to see the over-zealous officers, of whom we hear in other stories, and whom Godwine so characteristically keeps in order.

These are, as far as I know, the only particular cases in which it is possible to test the value of the general remark made by the Abingdon Chronicler as to Godwine’s occupations of Church property. In the case of Berkeley we can say absolutely nothing either way, except so far as Gytha’s scruple may be held to tell against her husband. In the Kentish case Godwine may well have had a perfectly good defence. The charges against Harold are more numerous. They rest mainly on certain entries in Domesday, which have been carefully collected by Sir Henry Ellis (i. 313). Harold is there said to have taken, or to have held unjustly, various pieces of ecclesiastical property, and in most cases it is carefully noted that William caused them to be restored by some legal process. Thus, in Sussex (21 b) we find a virgate of land at Apedroc which Harold “habuit et abstulit à Sancto Johanne.” This seems not to have been restored; it had become a chief dwelling-place of William’s half-brother Earl Robert (“ubi Comes habet aulam suam”), and Robert was to be as much preferred to Saint John, as Saint John was to be preferred to Harold. In Wiltshire (69), at Allington, were four hides “quas injustè abstraxit Heraldus ab ecclesiâ Ambresberie testimonio tainorum sciræ.” Three lordships in Dorset (75 b, 78 b) are said to have been taken by Harold (“abstulerat Heraldus Comes”) from Shaftesbury Abbey, and to have been restored by William on the evidence of a charter of Eadward (“Willelmus Rex eam fecit resaisiri, quia in ipsâ ecclesiâ inventus est brevis cum sigillo Regis Eadwardi præcipiens ut ecclesiæ restituerentur”). So in Cornwall (121) an estate is in like manner restored to Saint Petroc’s. One in Hertfordshire (132) helps us to a date; “Heraldus Comes abstulit inde, ut tota syra testatur, et apposuit in Hiz manerio suo, tribus annis ante mortem Regis Eadwardi (1063).” Another entry, in nearly the same words, but without a date, follows in fol. 133. There are two others in which we see the agency of the reeves or other officers. In Dorset (80) we find that “Elnod tenuit T. R. E. per Comitem Heraldum, qui eam abstulit cuidam clerico.” So in Kent (2), “Alnod cild per violentiam Heraldi abstulit Sancto Martino Merclesham et Hauochesten, pro quibus dedit Canonicis iniquam commutationem.” This last entry is important. The act, though called “violentia,” was really an exchange, and the spirit of these entries in Domesday is so clear that we can hardly venture to say that it may not have been a fair and legal exchange.

There is also a whole string of entries in Herefordshire (181 b, 182), where it is said, “Hoc manerium tenuit Heraldus Comes injustè. Rex Willelmus reddidit Walterio Episcopo.” These must be taken in connexion with two writs addressed by Eadward to Harold in Herefordshire. One (Cod. Dipl. iv. 218) is addressed to him jointly with Bishop Ealdred, and therefore belongs to the time (1058–1060) when Ealdred administered the see after the death of Leofgar (see above, p. 398). This writ confirms to the Priests of Saint Æthelberht’s minster all their ancient rights, it speaks of them as suffering poverty “for God’s love and mine,” and calls on all men to help them. The other (iv. 194), addressed to Harold together with Osbern (see above, p. 346), announces the appointment of Walter to the Bishoprick (in 1060), and requires the restoration of all property alienated from the see. The earlier description of the poverty of the Canons can hardly fail to refer to losses sustained through the ravages of Ælfgar and Gruffydd in 1055 (see above, pp. 388, 391).

There is also a will of Leofric, Bishop of Exeter (Cod. Dipl. iv. 274), in which that Prelate leaves to his Church the land which Harold had lawlessly taken at Topsham (“ðæt land æt Toppeshamme, ðe áh ðe Harold hit mid unlage útnam”). The Bishop died in 1072, but the land had not then been recovered. Topsham appears in the Exon Domesday (p. 87) as a possession of the Crown formerly held by Harold, without any mention of the rights of the Church of Exeter.

The reader must judge how far any of the qualifications with which I set out can be made to bear on any of these cases. What if the land at Topsham, afterwards the port of Exeter, was needed for the defence of the coast? The Bishop would very likely look on its appropriation for such a purpose, even if it were paid for, as a thing done “mid unlage.”

There remains the great story of the alleged quarrel between Harold and Gisa, Bishop of Wells. Of this we know the details, we can trace the growth of misrepresentation, and it may perhaps serve as a key to some of the other stories. Even here we have no statement on Harold’s side, but the original charge against him, as contrasted with its later shapes, pretty well explains itself. The story however is a somewhat long one, and it may moreover fairly count as a part of the general history. I shall therefore keep back its consideration till its proper chronological place in the narrative, when I shall make it the subject of a distinct note. I will now add a few instances which illustrate the general subject by showing that Godwine and Harold by no means stand alone in bearing accusations of this sort. In the case of nearly every powerful man, including the most munificent benefactors to ecclesiastical bodies, we find the same story of the detention of Church property in some shape or other, or of transactions in which it is easy to see the possible groundwork of such a charge.

I mentioned in a former Chapter (i. 289) that the very model of monastic benefactors, Æthelwine the Friend of God, laid claim to, and made good his claim to, certain lands possessed by the Abbey of Ely. As the Ely historian (Hist. El. i. 5) himself tells the story, it is plain that the claim made by the Ealdorman was certainly legal and probably just. Yet the monastic writer clearly thinks that he ought to have given way even to an unjust claim on the part of the Church, and he uses just the same language which Domesday applies to Harold; “postpositâ Sanctæ Ecclesiæ reverentiâ, eamdem terram invadentes sibi vindicârunt.” Soon after (c. 8) we come to a story of the same kind about Æthelwine’s son Ælfwold. Godwine of Lindesey, one of the heroes of Assandun, is spoken of as a pertinacious enemy of the Church of Evesham (see vol. i. p. 568). The story about Harold Harefoot I have mentioned more than once. The passage which I quoted from William of Malmesbury at the beginning of this note also shows that Saint Eadward himself was by some people personally blamed for the destruction of monasteries in his reign. And it is, at any rate, clear that the estates of the dissolved houses of Leominster and Berkeley had become royal property—more legally folkland—just as they would have done in the time of Henry the Eighth. Eadgyth, the rose sprung from the thorn, enjoyed the revenues of Leominster, seemingly without any of the scruples which her mother felt in the case of Berkeley. We find her also (see above, p. 46) engaged in some other transactions about ecclesiastical property, which look at least as doubtful as anything attributed to her father and brother. Nay, one writer goes so far as to charge her sainted husband himself with complicity in her doings of this kind. Twice does the Peterborough historian (Hugo Candidus, Sparke, p. 42) say of possessions held or claimed by that monastery, “Rex et Regina Edgita illam villam vi auferre conati sunt.” So one of the charges brought against Tostig, the benefactor of the Church of Durham (see p. 383), was that he had “robbed God” (see p. 481). Siward also, the founder of Galmanho, and his son Waltheof, who, as a monastic hero, ranks by the side of Æthelwine, both stand charged with detaining lands belonging to the Abbey of Peterborough (see above, p. 374). Eadwine, the brother of Leofric, possessed lands claimed by the Church of Worcester, and the local writer Heming (p. 278) evidently looked on his death at Rhyd-y-Groes as the punishment; “Sed ipse diu hâc rapinâ gavisus non est. Nam ipse non multo post a Grifino Rege Brittonum ignominiosâ morte peremptus est.” Nay, Leofric and Godgifu themselves, the models of all perfection, do not seem to have been quite clear on this score. Her reverence for Saint Wulfstan led Godgifu to suggest to her husband the restoration of certain lordships in his possession which had belonged to the Church of Worcester (“Terras quas antea Dani cæterique Dei adversarii vi abstulerant, et ab ipsâ Wigornensi ecclesiâ penitùs alienaverant.” Heming in Ang. Sacr. i. 541). Her son Ælfgar followed her example. There is also in Domesday (283 b) a most curious entry about certain lands at Alveston in Warwickshire. They are inserted among the estates of the Church of Worcester; but it is said of the sons of the former tenant Bricstuinus (Brihtstán?); “Hoc testantur filii ejus Lewinus [Leofwine], Edmar [Eadmer] et alii quatuor, sed nesciunt de quo, an de Ecclesiâ an de Comite Leuric [Leofric], cui serviebat, hanc terram tenuit. Dicunt tamen quod ipsi tenuerunt eam de L. Comite, et quò volebant cum terrâ poterant se vertere.” Here we may discern a case of free commendation, whether to the Church or to the Earl, but here are also ample materials for a charge against Leofric of detaining the lands of the Church of Worcester. Lastly, I may mention cases in which Prelates like Bishop Ælfweard (p. 69) and Archbishop Ealdred (p. 467) stand charged with wrongfully transferring property from one church to another. These last cases, if they can be made out, seem to an impartial eye just as bad as the occupation of Church lands by laymen. The breach of law is equal, and when a Prelate, as Ealdred is said to have done, robbed the church which he was leaving in favour of the church of which he was taking possession, the personal greediness is equal. In fact, in all these cases, the real crime lies in the breach of law which is implied in the violent or fraudulent occupation of anything, whether the party wronged be clerk or layman, individual or corporation. We must be on our guard alike against the exaggerated notions about the crime of sacrilege put forth by ecclesiastical writers, and also against the opposite prejudices of some moderns, who sometimes talk as if the robbing of a monastery were actually a praiseworthy deed.

On the whole, considering all the instances, we shall perhaps see reason to think that all charges of this kind, charges in which we can very seldom hear both sides, must be taken with great doubt and qualification. On the other hand it is plain that the tenure of Church property, perhaps of all property, was in those rough days very uncertain. Men, we may well believe, often gave with one hand and took with the other. No one did this more systematically than the Great William himself. I will end this long note with the comments of his namesake of Malmesbury on William’s doings in this respect, comments which seem to have been equally applicable to many others among the great men of his age;

“Ita ejus tempore ultro citroque cœnobialis grex excrevit, monasteria surgebant, religione vetera, ædificiis recentia. Sed hìc animadverto mussitationem dicentium, melius fuisse ut antiqua in suo statu conservarentur, quam, illis semimutilatis, de rapinâ nova construerentur” (iii. 278).

NOTE F. p. 36.
The Children of Godwine.

The question of Godwine’s marriage or marriages I examined in my first volume (p. 467), and I there came to the conclusion that there is no ground for attributing to him more than one wife, namely Gytha, the daughter of Thurgils Sprakaleg and sister of Ulf. There is no doubt that Gytha was the mother of all those sons and daughters of Godwine who play such a memorable part in our history.

The fullest lists of Godwine’s sons are those given by William of Malmesbury (ii. 200) and Orderic (502 B). William’s list runs thus, Harold, Swegen, Tostig, Wulfnoth, Gyrth, Leofwine. That of Orderic is, Swegen, Tostig, Harold, Gyrth, Ælfgar, Leofwine, Wulfnoth. Saxo (196) speaks of Harold, Beorn, and Tostig as sons of Godwine; that is, he mistook Beorn the nephew of Gytha for her son. Snorro (Laing, iii. 75. Ant. Celt. Scand. 189) has a far more amazing genealogy. He seems to assume that Godwine must have been the father of every famous Englishman of his time, and he reckons up his sons thus—Tostig the eldest, Maurokari (Morkere), Waltheof, Swegen, and Harold. He pointedly adds that Harold was the youngest. It must be on the same principle that Bromton (943) seems to make Godwine the father of Gruffydd of Wales. At least his list runs thus, Swegen, Wulfnoth, Leofwine, Harold, Tostig, and Griffin. So Walter of Hemingburgh (i. 4) gives Godwine a son Griffus, which may be a confusion between Gruffydd and Gyrth. Knighton (2334) gives the sons as Swegen, Harold, Tostig, Wulfnoth, Gyrth, and Leofric. But elsewhere, as Bromton had given Godwine a Gruffydd, Knighton in the same spirit helps him to a Llywelyn. At least he talks (2238) of the “malitia et superbia Haraldi et Lewlini filiorum Godwini.”

The Biographer mentions four sons, Harold, Tostig, Gyrth, and Leofric. This last mistake is odd, as from the combined authority of the Chronicles, Florence, Domesday, and the Tapestry, there can be no doubt that the true name is Leofwine. But the two names are much alike, and both were current in the great Mercian house, whence they probably came into the house of Godwine. If Earl Leofric was the godfather of Godwine’s son, and gave him, not his own name, but that of his father Leofwine, the confusion would be easily accounted for.

Of these sons, there is no doubt about six, namely Swegen, Harold, Tostig, Gyrth, Leofwine, Wulfnoth, who all figure in the history at different points. The only question is whether we ought, on the sole authority of Orderic, to add a seventh son named Ælfgar. According to him, Ælfgar lived and died a monk at Rheims, and Wulfnoth did the like at Salisbury. This is undoubtedly false as regards Wulfnoth; and the tale of a son of Godwine, otherwise unknown, spending his whole life in a French monastery has a somewhat apocryphal sound. At any rate we may dismiss Ælfgar, as a person of whose actions, if he ever existed, we have no knowledge, while of the other six brethren we know a good deal.

Of the daughters of Godwine, there is no need to prove the existence of Eadgyth the Lady. Another daughter, Gunhild, rests on the sure evidence of the Exon Domesday (pp. 96, 99, “Gunnilla filia Comitis Godwini”). She also has a history. A third daughter, Ælfgifu, is more doubtful. Kelham (Domesday, 153) and Sir Henry Ellis (i. 309) speak of “Ælveva soror Heraldi” as occurring in Domesday, but they give no reference, and I have not as yet been able to find her name in the great record. But it seems likely that Godwine had a third daughter, and it is not unlikely that her name was Ælfgifu. It is part of the story of Harold’s oath (Sim. Dun. 1066 and elsewhere) that he promised to marry his sister to one of William’s nobles. Obviously this cannot apply to Eadgyth, nor yet to Gunhild, who was devoted to a religious life. I shall, in my next volume, discuss the question whether this sister may not be the puzzling Ælfgyva of the Tapestry.

Of the order of the sons there is no doubt. Swegen (“filius primogenitus Swanus,” Fl. Wig. 1051) was the eldest. Harold came next. That Harold was older than Tostig is plain from the Biographer (“major natu Haroldus,” 409), and indeed from the whole history. So even Saxo (207) speaks of “minores Godovini filii [which at least includes Tostig] majorem perosi.” Orderic’s notion (492 D) that Harold was younger that Tostig is simply a bit of the Norman legend, devised to represent Harold as depriving his elder brother, sometimes of the Earldom, sometimes of the Kingdom. Snorro’s idea that Harold was the youngest of all is wilder still. The order of the several brothers is marked very plainly in the dates of their promotion to Earldoms; this is Swegen, Harold, Tostig, Gyrth, Leofwine. Wulfnoth, who never held an Earldom, was doubtless the youngest.

The order in which the brothers sign charters is worth notice. Setting aside one impossible charter (Cod. Dipl. iv. 80–84), Swegen always signs before Harold, Harold always before Tostig, Tostig always before Gyrth and Leofwine. But Harold, Gyrth, and Leofwine do not observe so strict an order among themselves. May we not infer from the recorded disposition and actions of Swegen and Tostig that a certain attention to ceremony was needed in their cases, while the other three brothers, who lived and died firm friends, could afford to dispense with it?

The order of the daughters among themselves must have been Eadgyth, Gunhild, Ælfgifu, if there was an Ælfgifu. For a daughter of Godwine and Gytha to have been talked of as an intended wife for any one in 1066, she must have been the very youngest of the family.

The order of the sisters with regard to their brothers is more difficult to fix. It is hopeless to try to fix the place of Gunhild. But, as Ælfgifu must have been the youngest, there is some reason to believe that Eadgyth was the eldest of the family. The Biographer (p. 397) compares four children of Godwine, seemingly Eadgyth, Harold, Tostig, and Gyrth—he never mentions Swegen—to the four rivers of Paradise;

“Felix prole piâ Dux, stirpe beatus avitâ,
His quatuor natis dans Anglia pignora pacis.
Prodit gemma prior, variæ probitatis amatrix,
In medio Regni, tanto Duce filia patre
Ædgit digna suo, Regi condigna marito.”

This looks as if Eadgyth was the eldest of all. Godwine and Gytha were married in 1019 (see vol. i. p. 467). Harold therefore, the second son, could not, even if Eadgyth was younger than himself, have been born before 1021, perhaps not till 1022 or later. He therefore could not have been above twenty-four when he became Earl, nor above forty-five at his death—he may of course have been younger. But none of Godwine’s sons who held Earldoms could have been so young as William of Malmesbury fancied Gyrth to be in 1066, when he calls him (iii. 239) “plus puero adultus et magnæ ultra ætatem virtutis et scientiæ.” He had then been Earl of the East-Angles for nine years.

NOTE G. p. 36.
The Great Earldoms during the Reign of Eadward.

It is not always easy to trace the succession of the men who ruled the different Earldoms of England during the reign of Eadward. In several cases the Chronicles give us notices of the death, deposition, or translation of one Earl and of the appointment of his successor. But these entries taken alone would not enable us to put together a perfect series of the Earls. For instance, Eadwine (1065), Gyrth (1066), Leofwine (1066), Waltheof (1066), are all spoken of as Earls without any account of their appointment, and, in the last three cases, without any hint as to the districts over which they ruled. To make out anything like a perfect list, we must go to various incidental notices in the royal writs and elsewhere. By their help we shall be able to recover, not indeed an absolutely complete account, but one much fuller than appears on the face of the history, and one which reveals to us a great number of anomalies which we should not have expected. The way in which several Earls held isolated shires detached from the main body of their Earldoms, and the way in which shires were transferred from the jurisdiction of one Earl to that of another, are both of them very remarkable.

For a complete view of these changes, and indeed of the general succession of the Earls, we must go back to the fourfold division of England by Cnut in 1017 (see vol. i. p. 448). Cnut then kept Wessex in his own hands, and appointed Eadric over Mercia, Thurkill over East-Anglia, Eric over Northumberland. In 1020 (see vol. i. p. 469), Wessex also became an Earldom under Godwine. Now in these four great governments we can trace the succession of Earls without difficulty, with the single exception of East-Anglia. We have no account of that Earldom from the banishment of Thurkill in 1021 (see vol. i. p. 473) to the appointment of Harold, seemingly in 1045 (see above, p. 37). As for Northumberland, I have already traced out the succession of its Earls (see vol. i. p. 585 et seqq.). There is no doubt that, at the accession of Eadward, Siward was in possession of both parts of the old Northern realm, and that he remained in possession of them till his death. The succession in Wessex is plainer still; Godwine was appointed in 1020, Harold succeeded him in 1053; there is no room for any question, except as to the disposal of the Earldom during the year of Godwine’s banishment. And the mere succession in Mercia is equally plain. Leofwine succeeded Eadric in 1017; Leofric succeeded Leofwine some time between 1024 and 1032 (see vol. i. p. 461); Ælfgar succeeded Leofric in 1057; Eadwine, there can be no reasonable doubt, succeeded Ælfgar on his death, at some time between 1062 and 1065. Our difficulties are of other kinds. There is, first, the great uncertainty as to the meaning of the name Mercia. There is the fact that various shires, especially in Mercia, are found in the hands of other Earls than those to whom the fourfold division would seem to have committed them. There is the fact that we find mention of Earls holding Earldoms other than the four great ones, and seemingly formed by dismemberments of the four. Lastly, we find, especially under Cnut, the names of several Earls whom it is not easy to supply with Earldoms.

This last difficulty need not greatly trouble us. It does not follow that every Danish chief who signs a charter of Cnut with the title of Earl was actually established in an English Earldom. On the other hand, some one must have ruled in East-Anglia between 1021 and 1045, and it is a fair guess, though nothing more, that the successive husbands of Gunhild, Hakon and Harold (see vol. i. p. 475 et seqq.), who are spoken of as if they had some permanent connexion with England, were Earls of the East-Angles during some parts of that interval. The main difficulty springs from what seem to have been the constantly fluctuating arrangements of the Mercian shires. The old chaotic state of central England seems to revive. First, it is not always clear what we are to understand by the name Mercia. The name at this stage sometimes includes, sometimes excludes, those parts of old Mercia which were ceded by Ælfred to Guthrum. Secondly, we find various shires, Mercian in one or the other sense, which are not under the government of the person spoken of as the Earl of the Mercians.

Now when, as in the fourfold division made by Cnut, Wessex, Northumberland, East-Anglia, and Mercia are spoken of as an exhaustive division of England, there can be no doubt that Mercia is taken in the widest sense, meaning the whole land from Bristol on the Avon to Barton on the Humber. With this great government Eadric was invested. But it is equally plain (see vol. i. p. 580) that, at a somewhat later time, either Mercia in this sense was dismembered in favour of independent Earls, or else subordinate Earls were appointed under a superior Earl of the Mercians. I will now put together the evidence which we find on these heads.

The first hint which we come across of a dismemberment of this kind is in 1041, when we find Thuri or Thored, “Comes Mediterraneorum” and Rani or Hranig, “Comes Magesetensium,” distinguished from Leofric, “Comes Merciorum.” Of Thored we also know that his Earldom took in Huntingdonshire. See vol. i. p. 580, where a writ of Harthacnut addressed to him is quoted. And one may suspect that we ought to substitute the same name for “Toli comes” who in a Huntingdon writ of Eadward (Cod. Dipl. iv. 243) is addressed along with Bishop Eadnoth, fixing the date of the writ to the years 1042–1050. (This Toli can hardly be Tolig who is elsewhere addressed in Suffolk, seemingly as Sheriff under the Earldom of Gyrth. Cod. Dipl. iv. 222, 223.) Of Ranig we know that he held the rank of Earl as early as 1023 (see vol. i. p. 580). We may therefore be inclined to suspect that Mercia was dismembered on the death of Eadric, and that, besides the Mercian Earldom held by Leofwine and Leofric, two fresh Earldoms, whether subordinate or independent, were formed within the limits of the old Mercian Kingdom. On the whole I am inclined to think that a certain superiority was always retained by Leofric, as chief Earl of the Mercians. He always fills a special place, alongside of Godwine and Siward, and we shall come across evidence to show that some of the dismembered shires did, in the end, revert to him or to his house.

As to this Earldom of the “Mediterranei” or Middle-Angles, held by Thored, we have no distinct account of its extent. But it is a probable guess that it took in the whole eastern part of Mercia, the part in which the Danish element was strongest. I am inclined to think that in this Earldom Thored was succeeded by Beorn. Our indications are certainly slight, but they look that way. We hear nothing distinctly of Thored in Eadward’s time, while it is plain (see p. 36) that Beorn held some Earldom from about the year 1045 till his murder. We know also that his Earldom took in Hertfordshire (Cod. Dipl. iv. 19c). I infer then that Beorn was Earl of the Middle-Angles, of Eastern or Danish Mercia. I also infer that in that Earldom he had no one successor. No Earl is spoken of in the later days of Eadward who can show any claim to such a description, and several of the shires contained within the country which I conceive to have been held by Thored and Beorn seem to have remained in a sort of fluctuating state, ready to be attached to any of the great governments, as might be convenient.

Thus Huntingdonshire was within the Earldom of Thored. But in 1051 (Flor. Wig. in anno) we find it, together with Cambridgeshire, a shire still so closely connected with it as to have a common Sheriff, detached altogether from Mercia, and forming part of the East-Anglian Earldom of Harold. “Men” of Harold’s in Huntingdonshire accordingly occur in Domesday (p. 208). But Huntingdonshire was afterwards separated from East-Anglia, perhaps on Harold’s translation to Wessex in 1053. It then became, strange to say, an outlying portion of the Earldom of Northumberland. It does not however appear that Cambridgeshire followed it in this last migration. That Huntingdonshire was held by Siward is shown by a writ (Cod. Dipl. iv. 239) coming between 1053 and 1055. It is certain that it was afterwards held by Waltheof. Domesday also (208) implies the succession of Siward, Tostig, and Waltheof, by speaking of “men” and rights belonging first to Tostig and afterwards to Waltheof. It might be worth considering whether some confused tradition of these transfers of the shire formed an element in the legend of Tostig, Earl of Huntingdon, slain by Siward. See vol. i. pp. 461, 587.

Northamptonshire, like Huntingdonshire, was separated from Mercia and attached to Northumberland. This is distinctly shown by a royal writ addressed to Tostig as its Earl (Cod. Dipl. iv. 240). The only other Northamptonshire writ that I know (iv. 216) is addressed to Bishop Wulfwig without any Earl’s name. But, as to Northamptonshire, another question might arise. The singular description of the daughter of the Northumbrian Earl Ælfhelm as Ælfgifu of Northampton (see vol. i. p. 453) may possibly point to an earlier connexion between the two districts. This last is a mere guess, but the connexion between Northumberland and Northamptonshire during part of the reign of Eadward is quite certain. But Northamptonshire and Huntingdonshire were afterwards again detached from Northumberland, and held as a separate Earldom by Waltheof. On this point the evidence seems quite plain; the only question is as to the exact date. Waltheof held some Earldom at the end of the year 1066, when he is spoken of as an Earl with Eadwine and Morkere (Chron. Wig. 1066). Under William, besides his great Northumbrian government, he was certainly Earl of Northamptonshire (Ord. Vit. 522 C) and of Huntingdonshire (Will. Gem. viii. 37). We may therefore infer that these fragments of his father’s government formed the Earldom which he had held under Harold. The false Ingulf (Gale, i. 66) makes him receive both these shires on his father’s death in 1057, Tostig receiving Northumberland. The Chronicle of John of Peterborough, which, though not contemporary, has some authority as being a local record, distinctly makes Waltheof succeed to Northamptonshire on his father’s death in 1055; “Siwardus Dux Northanhumbrorum obiit; ... cujus filius Waldevus, postea martyr sanctus, factus est Comes Northhamptoniæ; comitatus autem Northanhumbrorum datus est Tostio fratri Haroldi” (Giles, p. 50). But this is shown to be incorrect by the charter just quoted, which shows that Tostig was Earl in Northamptonshire. And the course taken by the Northumbrian rebels in 1065 (see p. 489) seems to point to a still abiding connexion between that shire and Northumberland. We can therefore hardly doubt that both Northamptonshire and Huntingdonshire were obtained by Waltheof as a result of the Northumbrian revolt in 1065.

About Nottinghamshire I do not feel quite certain. It appears from Domesday (280) that Tostig had certain rights in the town of Nottingham; but he is not distinctly spoken of as Earl of the shire. But the connexion between this shire and the Northumbrian Primate makes a connexion with the Northumbrian Earl far from unlikely.

Hertfordshire formed part of the Earldom of Beorn. We have no further account of it till after the redistribution in 1057 (see above, pp. 418, 419), when it appears in the hands of Leofwine. Two writs (Cod. Dipl. iv. 217, 218) are addressed to him as Earl, conjointly with Wulfwig, Bishop of Dorchester—the Prelate of the Middle-Angles—whose episcopacy ranges from 1053 to 1067. In Domesday also (132) eighteen burghers in the town of Hertford are described as being “homines Heraldi Comitis et Lewini Comitis,” perhaps a sign of the superiority exercised by Harold over the Earldoms of Gyrth and Leofwine. Men of Leofwine occur also in the town of Buckingham (143) and in other parts of that shire (144, 145), suggesting that Buckinghamshire also made part of his Earldom. Of Bedfordshire we seem to have no distinct account. Waltheof (Domesday, 210 b) held lands there, but it need not have been in his Earldom.

Oxfordshire appears in 1015 (Flor. Wig. in anno) as part of the Earldom of Swegen. (See above, p. 36.) After 1057 it appears as an outlying appendage of the East-Anglian Earldom of Gyrth. Two writs for Oxfordshire are addressed to him conjointly with Bishop Wulfwig (Cod. Dipl. iv. 215, 217). The former is the well known grant of Islip to the church of Westminster.

Of the other East-Mercian shires we have no account. But I am inclined to believe that they must have reverted to Leofric, perhaps on the death of Beorn. I am led to this belief by the almost certain fact that Lincolnshire did. All history and tradition connects Leofric and his house with that shire; one of the great objects of his bounty, the minster of Stow, is within its borders, and it is plain that, in 1066 (Flor. Wig. in anno), Lindsey formed part of the Earldom of his grandson Eadwine.

The shiftings of the East-Mercian shires are thus frequent and perplexing, but those of West-Mercia are equally so. That the north-western shires remained constantly under Leofric and his house there can be no reasonable doubt. Our one writ in those parts (Cod. Dipl. iv. 201) is addressed to Eadwine in Staffordshire, and the entries of property held in that shire and in Cheshire by him and his father are endless. The same may be said of Shropshire, but as soon as we get south of that limit, we are at once in the region of fluctuations. We have seen that Ranig was Earl of the Magesætas or of Herefordshire in 1041. It is impossible to say whether his government extended beyond that limit. One can hardly doubt that Ranig was succeeded by Swegen, whose Mercian possessions (Flor. Wig. 1051) consisted of the shires of Hereford, Gloucester, and Oxford. It is therefore not unlikely that Ranig’s government was of the same extent, but we cannot be certain. But it is quite certain that Herefordshire was detached from the government of Leofric and his successors during the whole reign of Eadward. It is not clear what became of the shire during Swegen’s first banishment. Something belonging to Swegen, either his Earldom or his private estate, was (see pp. 89, 101) divided during his absence between Harold and Beorn. It is therefore quite possible that one or other of them may have governed Herefordshire from 1046 to 1050. But it is equally possible that the shire was, during that interval, held by Ralph of Mantes, Ralph the Timid, the son of Walter and Godgifu, Indeed this last view becomes the more likely of the two, when we remember the firm root which the Normans had taken in Herefordshire before 1051 (see p. 138), which looks very much as if they had been specially favoured in these parts. That Ralph succeeded Swegen on his final banishment in 1051 I have no doubt at all. Sir Francis Palgrave (English Commonwealth, ii. ccxc.) calls this fact in question on the grounds that, at the time when William of Malmesbury (ii. 199) calls him “Comes Herefordensis,” Herefordshire was under the government of Swegen, and that, when Florence (1055) speaks of his doings in the Herefordshire campaign, he does not formally describe him as Earl of the shire. But surely, when a certain shire is invaded, and a certain Earl goes forth to defend it, the presumption, in the absence of some distinct evidence the other way, is that the Earl who so acts is the Earl in charge of the shire. The passage of William of Malmesbury is simply one of his usual confusions of chronology. Speaking of Eustace of Boulogne and his visit to England in 1051, he mentions his marriage with Godgifu, and goes on thus, “quæ ex altero viro, Waltero Medantino, filium tulerat Radulfum, qui eo tempore erat Comes Herefordensis, ignavus et timidus, qui Walensibus pugnâ cesserit, comitatumque suum, et urbem cum episcopo, ignibus eorum consumendum reliquerit; cujus rei infamiam maturè veniens Haroldus virtutibus suis abstersit. Eustachius ergo ... Regem adiit.” Undoubtedly, according to strict grammatical construction, “eo tempore” ought to mean in 1051, but William so jumbles together the events of 1051 and of 1055 that it is hardly safe to argue from this expression that he meant distinctly to assert that Ralph was Earl of Herefordshire in 1051. He may just as well have meant that he was so when he waged his unfortunate campaign with the Welsh, and certainly no one who got up his facts from William of Malmesbury only would ever find out that that campaign happened four years after the visit of Eustace.

Ralph then, I hold, was certainly Earl of Herefordshire in 1055, and the natural inference is that he succeeded Swegen in 1051, and that, as Swegen never came back, he was allowed to retain his Earldom in 1052. That Ralph was succeeded by Harold in 1057 there can be no doubt. But Harold’s Herefordshire Earldom is so important as a piece of national policy, and it is connected with so many points in Harold’s character, that I have spoken of it somewhat largely in the text. See pp. 395, 417, and, for writs addressed to Harold in Herefordshire, see p. 547.

But we have also the fact that Ralph certainly held the rank of Earl in the year 1051, while Swegen was still acting as Earl of the Magesætas (see p. 141). We have also his signatures as Earl as early as 1050 (see p. 111). Sir Francis Palgrave is therefore very possibly right in quartering him in Worcestershire. That shire, he is inclined to think, was in Cnut’s time held by Hakon the doughty Earl, the first husband of Gunhild. This view he rests on a writ of Cnut’s (Cod. Dipl. iv. 56) addressed to him as Earl in Worcestershire. The writ is clearly spurious, but it is perhaps one of those cases in which a spurious document proves something. Would a forger insert a name so little known as that of Hakon in a spurious writ, unless he had seen it in a genuine writ? Again, it is rather remarkable that in two Worcestershire documents (see a deed of Bishop Ealdred, Cod. Dipl. iv. 137, evidently passed in a Worcestershire Scirgemót, and another, iv. 262) there is mention of Danish Thegns (“ealla ða yldestan þegnas on Wigeraceastrescíre, Denisce and Englisce”) as a distinct class in Worcestershire. This is what we should hardly have looked for so far west, and it may possibly be taken in connexion with the complaints about Danish spoilers of the Church of Worcester, which we have seen in pp. 544, 560. This prevalence of Danes in the shire looks of itself like the effect of the administration of a Danish Earl, and we find also what seems to be a distinct mention of a Hakon as holding a prominent position in the shire. In a document of Bishop Æthelstan of Hereford in Cod. Dipl. iv. 234 we find, joined together in a transaction of the time of Cnut, “Leofwine Ealdorman and Hacc ... and Leofric, and eal seo scír.” In Mr. Thorpe’s Diplomatarium, p. 376, the name is supplied in full, “Hacun,” which one might almost have ventured to do without manuscript authority. Hakon is thus placed between Ealdorman Leofwine and his son and successor Leofric. This looks very much as if Hakon were a subordinate Earl of Worcestershire under Leofwine as superior Earl of the Mercians. If so, he may, or may not, have been removed from Worcestershire to the greater government of the East-Angles. But, if we admit Hakon, we still have no means of bridging over the interval between his death in 1030 and Ralph’s appearance in 1041. Ralph, I suspect, when he received Herefordshire, gave up Worcestershire to Odda. Of this Earl I must say a little more, and he forms a natural means of transition from Mercia to Wessex.

The West-Saxon Earldom, during the administration of Godwine and Harold, seems, except during the year of banishment, to have suffered no dismemberment beyond the surrender of certain shires to be held by the sons or brothers of its two Earls, doubtless under the superiority of the head of the family. Thus Swegen, during his father’s lifetime, held, besides his three Mercian shires, the government of Somersetshire and Berkshire (Flor. Wig. 1051). On the fall of Godwine, Wessex was for a moment dismembered (see p. 160). As we hear of no Earl of the West-Saxons being appointed, the eastern shires, Berkshire included, probably reverted to the Crown. But Somersetshire was joined with the other western shires to form a new government under the King’s kinsman Odda (“Odo et Radulfus Comites et Regis cognati,” says William of Malmesbury, ii. 199). He had already some connexion with that part of England, as he signs (Cod. Dipl. vi. 196) a charter of Bishop Ælfwold of Sherborne relating to matters in Dorsetshire and Devonshire, which, from the mention of Bishop Lyfing, must be older than 1046. He was now set as Earl over the whole of the ancient Wealhcyn, or as the Peterborough Chronicler (1048) puts it, “ofer Defenascire and ofer Sumersæton and ofer Dorseton and ofer Wealas.” The Welsh are of course the Welsh of Cornwall. (There is something singular in the territorial form being applied to Devonshire and the tribe form to the Sumorsætas, but the same distinction is made by the Worcester Chronicler in the next year.) Dr. Lappenberg (510) suspects this Odda to have been a Frenchman. I see no reason for this surmise. An “Odo Comes” is certainly mentioned in the list of Normans established in England in Eadward’s time given in Duchèsne, p. 1023, a list clearly made up of bits from Florence and elsewhere. But he is said to have been “ante Edwardi tempora in exsilium ejectus.” Henry of Huntingdon too (M. H. B. 761 E) speaks of an “Odo Consul” as banished along with Archbishop Robert. But these are no great authorities. A banishment of Odda seems quite out of the question, and there is not a word in the Chronicles to imply that he was a foreigner. Foreigners are commonly spoken of as such, and a foreign descent is certainly not implied in Odda’s kindred with the King. He may have sprung from some of the more distant branches of the royal family, or he may have been connected with the King through his grandmother Ælfthryth. His name, in its various forms, Odda, Oda, Odo, Oddo, Otto, Eudes, and the like, is one of the few names which are common to England, Germany, and France. But, in the shape of Odda, it is thoroughly English, and it appears in English local nomenclature in such names as Oddington. Odda had also a brother and sister, who bore the distinctively English names of Ælfric (Cod. Dipl. iv. 137, 262. Chron. Wig. 1053) and Eadgyth (“Eddied soror Odonis Comitis,” in Domesday 186). He himself also, after his monastic profession, bore the no less truly English name of Æthelwine (Flor. Wig. 1056. A signature of “Odda monachus” in Cod. Dipl. iv. 132 cannot be his, by the date). His signatures as Earl are rare; there is one in Cod. Dipl. iv. 139. But both Odda and Ælfric often sign charters as “minister” and “nobilis,” sometimes, as in one of 1048 (Cod. Dipl, iv. 116, so also vi. 196), in company with one Dodda, whom one suspects to be a kinsman. Odda of course resigned his West-Saxon government on the return of Godwine, and both Somersetshire and Berkshire henceforth remained in the immediate possession of the Earl of the West-Saxons. (See writs to Harold in Somersetshire, Cod. Dipl. iv. 195 et seqq., in Berkshire, iv. 200, in Dorsetshire, iv. 200.) But Odda continues to be spoken of as Earl (Chronn. Ab. and Wig. 1056); and his connexion with the Hwiccian land and its monasteries points to Worcestershire, or possibly Worcestershire and Gloucestershire, as the district under his charge. Three of the documents just quoted as bearing his signatures are the deeds of Bishop Ealdred concerning lands in Worcestershire of which I have already spoken (Cod. Dipl. iv. 137, 138, 262, see above, p. 562), The signatures to be noted are “Leofric Eorl and Odda Eorl and Ælfric his broðor,” “Leofricus Dux, Ælfgarus Dux, Odda Dux,” “Leofric Eorl and Odda and Ælfric his broðor.” There is also a signature of Azor or Atsor, a well known Hwiccian Thegn (see above, p. 545). The special mention of Danish Thegns in Worcestershire I have already spoken of (p. 561). It is therefore most probable that Odda held the Earldom of the Hwiccas from the return of Godwine till the time when he forsook the world. It must then have reverted to the House of Leofric, as in Domesday (172) we find the city of Worcester making payments to Eadwine as Earl.

In the East of England the ancient boundaries both of Wessex and of East-Anglia were freely tampered with when the younger sons of Godwine had to be provided with Earldoms. There can be no doubt that the Earldom of East-Anglia was conferred on Gyrth, when Ælfgar was translated to Mercia in 1057. The only question is whether he had not received some smaller government at an earlier time. Gyrth appears as “Eorl” in the Chronicles and as “Comes” in Domesday (Suffolk, 283 et al). In one Suffolk entry (290) it is distinctly said that “Comes Guert tertiam partem habebat.” That his Earldom took in Oxfordshire as an outlying possession we have already seen; his possession of the two strictly East-Anglian shires is shown by a variety of writs. In Cod. Dipl. iv. 208 he is addressed for Norfolk and Suffolk, in iv. 222 for Suffolk only, in iv. 223 and 225 for East-Anglia generally, in iv. 221 for Suffolk only, conjointly with Harold. In all these writs he is joined with Æthelmær, Bishop of the East-Angles from 1047 to 1070. The date of his appointment seems certain, as no earlier date is possible, and there is no reason to suspect one at all later. But the words in which the Biographer of Eadward describes Gyrth’s elevation are not very clear. After speaking of the appointments of Harold and Tostig, he adds (Vita Eadw. p. 410), “Juniorem quoque Gyrth, quem supra diximus, immunem non passus est idem Rex à suis honoribus, sed comitatum ei dedit in ipso vertice Orientalis Angliæ, et hunc ipsum amplificandum promisit, ubi maturior annos adolescentiæ exuerit.” This may mean that Gyrth was first invested with the government of some part of East-Anglia, perhaps under the superiority of Ælfgar, and was encouraged to look forward to the possession of the whole. Or it may mean that, when invested with the government of all East-Anglia, he was encouraged to look forward to something beyond its bounds, a promise of which the addition of Oxfordshire may have been the fulfilment. This last view is incidentally confirmed in a singular manner by the way in which the town of Oxford is spoken of in Domesday (154). The duties payable to the Earl are described as paid to Ælfgar. Here of course, as in several other cases, the record describes a state of things existing “in the time of King Eadward,” but not “on the day when King Eadward was quick and dead.” A mention of Eadwine would have excluded Gyrth; a mention of Ælfgar does not exclude him. But it shows that Oxfordshire was at one time held by Ælfgar; it shows therefore that Gyrth did not receive Oxfordshire at the same time as Norfolk and Suffolk. The shire may have been taken from Ælfgar at his second outlawry, or it may have been conferred on Gyrth after Ælfgar’s death. But at all events, Gyrth became Earl of the East-Angles in 1057, only with a narrower jurisdiction than had been attached to that title when it was held by Harold, probably narrower than when it was held by Ælfgar. Harold had, together with the two strictly East-Anglian shires, held Huntingdonshire, Cambridgeshire, and Essex, probably including Middlesex. None of these, except perhaps Cambridgeshire, fell to the lot of Gyrth. He seemingly took the remote Oxfordshire in their stead. Of Huntingdonshire I have already spoken. The shires of Essex and Middlesex, together with that of Hertford, and probably Buckinghamshire (see above, p. 560), fell to the lot of Leofwine. Of Bedfordshire I cannot speak with any certainty.

We have no record of Leofwine’s appointment as Earl, but one can hardly doubt that his investment with the large and important government which the writs set him before us as holding took place at the general distribution in 1057. But, as in the case of Gyrth, a question arises whether he had held a smaller government at an earlier time. There is a writ in Cod. Dipl. (iv. 191) addressed to Leofwine in Kent conjointly with Archbishop Eadsige, who died in 1050, and with Godwine, Bishop of Rochester, who died in 1046. If this document be genuine, it reveals the very curious fact that the young son of Godwine, while still hardly beyond boyhood, held, under his father’s immediate eye, the government of the shire which had been his father’s first possession. If this be so, it may decide us as to the interpretation of the doubtful passage of the Biographer about Gyrth, and we shall have to look for some similar earlier endowment for Tostig. But, on the other hand, the Chroniclers, in recording the events of the years 1049–1052, while they carefully give the title of Earl to Godwine, Swegen, Harold, and Beorn, never give it to Tostig, Gyrth, or Leofwine. “Harold Eorl and Tostig his broðor,” says the Peterborough Chronicler (1046). Leofwine’s early promotion is therefore very doubtful; but of the extent of his later government there is no doubt. It took in the shires of Essex, Middlesex, Hertford, Surrey, Kent, and probably Buckinghamshire. Writs are addressed to him for Surrey, jointly with Stigand (Cod. Dipl. iv. 205), for Essex (as he is coupled with Bishop William, iv. 213), for Middlesex jointly with William (iv. 214), for Hertfordshire, as we have seen, jointly with Wulfwig. “Men” of Earl Leofwine in Middlesex are also mentioned in Domesday, 130 b. But the general superiority of Harold, whether as elder brother or as elected Ætheling, seems shown by a writ addressed to him in Middlesex, jointly with Bishop William (iv. 211). It can hardly belong to the time between September 1052 and Easter 1053, between which dates it is just possible, and no more, that there may have been some moment at which Harold was Earl of the East-Angles and William also was in possession of the see of London (see pp 345, 358). The Earldom of Leofwine thus answered pretty well to what Londoners sometimes speak of as the Home Counties. But the great city itself was not subject to the jurisdiction of any Earl. The King’s writs for London are addressed to the Bishop, the Portreeve or Portreeves, the Burgh-thegns, and sometimes the whole people (“ealle ðe burhware”). See Cod. Dipl. iv. 212, 213, 214.

I have thus tried, as well as I could, to trace out these singular fluctuations in the boundaries of the great Earldoms. To make matters clear, I have endeavoured to represent them by a comparative map of England at two stages of the reign of Eadward. The idea of such an attempt was suggested by the map given by Sir Francis Palgrave in his History of the Anglo-Saxons, p. 327. Some points of course are conjectural, and I have not been able to express the various fluctuations which happened at dates between the two years which I have chosen for illustration. But I trust that the two maps between them fairly represent the state of things in the earlier and in the later days of Eadward.

NOTE H. p. 62.
The Legend of Emma.

As the name of Godgifu is most familiar to the world in general through the legend of her riding naked through Coventry (besides the references in p. 48, see R. Wendover, i. 496), so the name of Emma is best known through the legend of her walking unhurt over the hot ploughshares. The tale appears to have grown out of the real history of her disgrace at this time, mixed up with other particulars from various quarters. And when a prince stands in such singular relations both to his mother and to his wife as those in which Eadward stood to Emma and Eadgyth, it is not wonderful that, in the process of legend-making, the two injured Ladies got confounded.

The tale may be seen in Bromton, X Scriptt. 941. He seems to place the event in 1050, when Robert was already Archbishop of Canterbury. He calls it indeed the fourth year of Eadward, but he places it immediately before the events of 1051. The Norman Primate persuades the King that Emma—forty-eight years after her first marriage, fifteen years after the death of her second husband—had been guilty of too close an intimacy (“nimia familiaritas”) with Ælfwine, Bishop of Winchester. The choice of an episcopal lover was unlucky, as Ælfwine had already been dead three years (see p. 94); a more ingenious romancer would have named Stigand. The Bishop is imprisoned; the Lady is spoiled of her goods and sent to Wherwell, a manifest confusion with Eadgyth’s banishment thither in 1051. From her prison, where she was not very strictly kept (“laxiùs custodita”), Emma writes to those Bishops in whom she trusted, saying that she is far more shocked at the scandal against Ælfwine than at that against herself. She is even ready to submit to the ordeal of burning iron in order to prove the Bishop’s innocence. The other Bishops advise the King to allow the trial, but the Norman Archbishop uses very strong language indeed. Emma is “fera illa, non fœmina;” her daring went so far that “amasium suum lubricum Christum Domini nominavit,” and so forth. She may make compurgation for the Bishop (“vult purgare pontificem”), but who will make compurgation for herself? She is still charged with complicity in the death of Ælfred, and with having made ready a poisoned bowl for Eadward himself. Yet, if she will make a double purgation, if she will walk over four burning shares for herself and five for the Bishop, her innocence shall be allowed. By dint of prayer to Saint Swithhun, the ordeal is gone through successfully. The penitent King implores pardon, and receives stripes (“disciplinas recepit”) both from his mother and from the Bishop; he restores their confiscated goods; and Robert, if not actually banished, finds it convenient to leave England. In honour of the deliverance, of the Lady and the Bishop, each gives nine manors, one for each ploughshare, to the Church of Winchester.

The account in the Winchester Annals (p. 21 et seqq. Luard) is substantially the same, and it sometimes agrees in words with that in Bromton. Unless Bromton has simply abridged the Winchester story, both are borrowed from the same source. But the Winchester annalist is very much fuller, and, after his manner, he puts long speeches into the mouths of his actors, that made by the Norman Archbishop displaying a remarkable acquaintance with the less decent parts of the satires of Juvenal. The most important difference is the introduction of Godwine. The event is placed in 1043. Archbishop Robert—he is already Archbishop—persuades the King to banish Godwine and his sons, to send his mother to Wherwell, and to forbid Ælfwine to come out of the city of Winchester. The tale then follows much as before, only, together with the restoration of Emma and flight of Robert, Godwine and his sons are restored at the petition of Emma. Also, it was after these doings that Eadward seems to have first taken to working miracles (“Rex Edwardus magnis post hæc cœpit coruscare miraculis etiam in vitâ suâ”).

I suspect that this is the older version. This is the Winchester writer’s only mention of the banishment and return of Godwine. Bromton, or whoever is represented by that name, knew that Godwine’s banishment happened at quite another time and from quite other causes; he knew also that Robert was not Archbishop in 1043. He therefore left out all about Godwine, and moved the tale to the year 1050, when Robert was Archbishop. But he failed to mark that he thus brought in a chronological error as to the death of Ælfwine. On this last point the local Winchester writer is of course accurate.

I cannot help adding good Bishop Godwin’s inimitable account of the charges brought by Robert against Emma. “He began therefore to beate into the king’s head (that was a milde and soft natured gentleman) how hard a hand his mother had held upon him when he lived in Normandy; how likely it was that his brother came to his death by the practise of her and Earle Godwyn; and lastly that she used the company of Alwyn Bishop of Winchester, somewhat more familiarly then an honest woman needed.”

I may add that M. de Bonnechose (“ut erat miræ simplicitatis et innocentiæ,” as the Winchester writer says of Eadward) believes everything. All about Godgifu, all about Emma, the “cruelle épreuve” and the “tragique scène,” will be found in his Quatre Conquêtes, ii. 81–88. In short, his history gives us, as Sir Roger de Coverley says, “fine reading in the casualties of this reign.” Mr. St. John exercises a sound judgement, and Thierry seems to hold his peace.

NOTE I. p. 110.
The Welsh Campaign of 1049.

The whole account of this campaign is full of difficulties. It is mentioned by the Worcester Chronicler only, whose narrative is somewhat expanded by Florence. There are also some entries in the Welsh Chronicles which seem to refer to the same event, but the readings of the manuscripts are so different that it is hard to tell their exact meaning. The Worcester writer mentions the coming of thirty-six ships from Ireland to the Usk; there, with Gruffydd’s help, they do much harm; then Bishop Ealdred gathers a force against them, but he is defeated, and many of his men slain, by a sudden attack in the early morning. Florence is more detailed. First, he explains that the Gruffydd spoken of is Gruffydd of South Wales, Gruffydd the son of Rhydderch (“adjutorio Griffini Regis Australium Brytonum”). This is very likely; the last time we had to do with Welsh affairs, the Northern Gruffydd was leagued with England against his Southern namesake (see p. 87). But a difficulty immediately follows. The pirates, with Gruffydd’s good will, begin plundering by sea, seemingly on the coast of Gwent. The words are “circa loca illa”—this immediately follows the mention of the Welsh Axe or Usk—“prædam agentes.” This may mean the Somersetshire coast just opposite, but it would more naturally mean the coast by the mouth of the Usk. But Gruffydd ap Rhydderch would hardly consent to the harrying of his own dominions; so we are led to suspect that Gwent must have passed into the hands of Gruffydd ap Llywelyn, perhaps as a result of the campaign waged by him in concert with Swegen. Or is it possible that Gwent had already, for a time at least, passed into English hands? We should certainly infer as much from the language of the Chronicler, who seems to make Ealdred gather his force to defend the country at the mouth of the Usk. But it is more likely that this is only a confused way of telling the story, for Florence tells us very clearly that the invaders crossed the Wye and harried some district, which must therefore have been part of Gloucestershire. “Dein, conjunctis viribus, Rex [Griffinus] et ipsi [Hibernienses piratæ] flumen quod Weage nominatur transeuntes Dymedham incenderunt, et omnes quos ibi reperiebant peremerunt.” But what is Dymedham? One would expect to find it the name of a town in Gloucestershire, but I know of no such place. It almost looks as if Florence had got hold of some Welsh account, and had been led astray by some such word as Dyfed or Deheubarth. Anyhow one may accept the fact that they crossed the Wye, and so entered the Hwiccian diocese. It is then that Ealdred brings his force against them. In the Chronicle that force is simply called “folc,” without further description; it is Florence who tells us that it consisted of small bodies from Gloucestershire and Herefordshire (“pauci de provincialibus Glawornensibus et Herefordensibus”), together with that body of Welshmen to whose treachery he attributes the defeat of the English.

The mention of these Welshmen in the English army raises some further questions. Were they mere mercenaries hired for the occasion, subjects possibly of the Northern Gruffydd, or were they men of Welsh blood and speech living under the immediate sovereignty of the King of the English? It can hardly be doubted that much Welsh blood must have lingered among the inhabitants of Herefordshire and Western Gloucestershire, just as it lingered among the inhabitants of Somersetshire and Devonshire. A small part of modern Gloucestershire, and a larger part of modern Herefordshire, consists of the districts added to those shires at the dissolution of the Welsh Marches. This part of Herefordshire was, till quite recent ecclesiastical changes, included in the Diocese of Saint David’s. But it would seem that, as late as the seventeenth century, Welsh must have been spoken in Herefordshire beyond these limits, as the Act of Uniformity joins the Bishop of Hereford with the Welsh Bishops in the duty of providing a Welsh translation of the Prayer-Book. We can therefore well believe that, in the days of Eadward, considerable remains both of Welsh blood and of the Welsh language must have remained in large districts of the Magesætas and even of the Hwiccas. Still the picture given us in Domesday of the Herefordshire borderers (see above, p. 388), though in no way decisive of their ethnology, sets them before us as a race eminently loyal to the English Crown. It is therefore more likely that these traitorous Welshmen were mere hirelings, and an expression of Florence seems to look the same way. He calls them “Walenses quos secum habuerant [provinciales Glawornenses et Herefordenses], eisque fidelitatem promiserant.” This certainly looks as if they were not immediate English subjects, but strangers who would serve only on receiving some sort of pledge of good faith from their English comrades. Such at least is the only meaning which I can get out of the text, and there seems to be no question as to the reading. Otherwise I should be strongly tempted to read, “quique eis fidelitatem promiserant,” so as to make the “fidelitas” a pledge given by the Welshmen. In any case the “fidelitas” seems to be given or received by the army as a body, not by the Bishop or any other commander. We seem here to have a military Scirgemót, just as we elsewhere have military Gemóts of the whole Kingdom.

One can hardly doubt that this fleet from Ireland is the same as that of which the Welsh Chroniclers speak under the year 1050. But they say nothing of the alliance between Gruffydd and the pirates, and they seem rather to speak of the fleet as one which came to attack Wales. The variations in the manuscripts are remarkable. The text of the Brut y Tywysogion calls it a fleet which “failed coming from Ireland to South Wales” (“ballaỽd llyges o Iwerdon yn dyfot y Deheubarth.” I quote the original, though ignorant of the Welsh language, as Welsh scholars may be able to judge of the translation). But another reading is “a fleet from Ireland endangered South Wales” (“y periglawd llynghes o Iwerdon Dehavbarth”). The text of the Annales Cambriæ has “Classis Hiberniæ in dextrali parte periit,” but another manuscript reads “Classis Hiberniæ in dextrali parte Cambriæ prædavit.” It is quite possible that the Danes may have begun with plundering, and may have afterwards been won over by Gruffydd to join him against the English.

The most perplexing thing, after all, about this campaign, is its ending, or rather its lack of an ending. What happened after the escape of Ealdred?

NOTE K. p. 124.
Danegeld and Heregeld.

It can hardly be doubted that the original meaning of the word Denagyld must have been money paid to the Danes to buy them off, a practice of which I need not multiply instances during the reign of Æthelred. But it so happens that the word itself does not occur till much later times. As far as I know, the single appearance of the word in Domesday (336 b) is the earliest instance. It occurs also in the so-called Laws of Eadward, c. 11 (Schmid, 496), in the Laws of Henry the First, first in the Charter of London (Schmid, 434) and afterwards in c. 15 (Schmid, 446). There are also well known passages in Bromton (942, 957) and the Dialogus de Scaccario, (ap. Madox, Exchequer, p. 27). In all these passages, (except perhaps in that of Bromton, who calls it “tallagium datum Danis,”) the Danegeld is described as a tax levied, not to buy off Danes, but to hire mercenaries, whether Danes or others, to resist them. Thus in the “Laws of Eadward” the description given is as follows;

“Denegeldi redditio propter piratas primitùs statuta est. Patriam enim infestantes, vastationi ejus pro posse suo insistebant; sed ad eorum insolentiam reprimendam statutum est Denegeldum annuatim reddendum; i. e. duodecim denarios de unâque hidâ totius patriæ, ad conducendos eos, qui piratarum irruptioni resistendo obviarent.”

The description in the Laws of Henry (Schmid, 446) is more remarkable, as it distinctly connects the Danegeld with the famous force established by Cnut. “Denagildum, quod aliquando þingemannis dabatur.”

But it is plain, from the passage with which we are concerned in the text, and from the other passage in the Peterborough Chronicle (1040) describing the payment to Harthacnut’s fleet in 1041, that the formal name for a tax levied for the payment of soldiers or sailors was Heregyld, Heregeold, Heregeld. I conceive that Denagyld was a popular name of dislike, which was originally applied to the payments made to buy off the Danes, and which was thence transferred to these other payments made to Danish and other mercenary troops, from the time of Thurkill onwards. This would account for the name not occurring in any early Chronicle or document.

It is commonly assumed, with great probability but without direct proof, that the Danegeld of Domesday is the same as the “mycel gyld” recorded in the Peterborough Chronicle to have been laid on by William in the winter Gemót of 1083–1084. This is looked on as the revival of the tax now taken off by Eadward. Yet it would be strange if no taxes at all for the support of warlike forces of any kind were levied between 1051 and 1083. The Housecarls certainly continued; we hear of them by name, besides Florence’s mention of “stipendiarii et mercenarii” in 1066. Are we to infer that the Housecarls were henceforth maintained out of the ordinary royal revenues, or, what seems more likely, that the tax now remitted related wholly to the fleet?

While on the subject of Danegeld, I may mention that the Liber de Hydâ contains a document purporting to be the Will of King Eadred, which, if genuine, shows that the possibility of a payment to the Danes was contemplated even in his time. The document is given in Old-English, with a later English and a Latin translation; but it is curious enough that, in the two latter versions, the passage is left out. In the Old-English text it stands thus (p. 153);

“Þænne an he his sayla to anliesnesse, and his deodscipe to þearfe, sixtyne hund punda, to þan ðæt hi mege magan hu[n]gor, and hæþenne here him fram aceapian gif hie beþurfen.”

The language seems to be corrupt, but the meaning can hardly be doubted.

See also on Danegeld, Pegge’s Short Account of Danegeld (London 1756) and Ellis, i. 350, 351.

NOTE L. p. 131.
The Banishment of Godwine.

Of the events which led to the banishment of Godwine and his sons we have three original narratives. The Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles give accounts which at first sight seem to be widely different, and the Life of Eadward contains another account which seems to be still more widely different from either of the others. The narrative in Florence is mainly founded on that in the Worcester Chronicle, while William of Malmesbury, as in many other cases, plainly had the Peterborough Chronicle before him. These Latin writers serve in some cases to explain and illustrate their English originals, while in other places they have curiously mistaken their meaning. When, fifteen years back, I wrote my papers on the Life and Death of Godwine in the Archæological Journal (vol. xii. p. 48), I thought that there was a wide difference between the accounts of the two Chroniclers, and that a choice had to be made between them. I now think that there is little or no discrepancy as to the facts. The main difference is that in the Worcester narrative there are many omissions, which are supplied by the Peterborough writer. There is also, as usual, a marked difference in tone. The Peterborough writer is here, as ever, a devoted partizan of Godwine, and he carefully brings into prominence every circumstance which can tell in his favour. The Worcester writer, without showing the least feeling against the Earl, is not so strongly committed to his side. The curious result is that the Normannizing William of Malmesbury, following the Peterborough version, gives a more strongly Godwinist account than our English Florence. Also, since my former papers were written, the contemporary Life of Eadward has come to light. The Biographer’s account is very singular. As usual, his rhetorical way of dealing with everything, and the necessity under which he felt himself of justifying both Eadward and Godwine, hamper him a good deal in his story. He also gives an account of the origin of the dispute, which is quite different from that mentioned in the Chronicles, and which yet is in no way inconsistent with it. He agrees with the Chroniclers in the main facts as to places and persons, and he adds, especially towards the end, some of those minute touches which increase one’s confidence in the writer, as they seem to come from personal knowledge. The chief difference between him and the Chroniclers is the difference inevitably involved in their several positions. The Chroniclers were monks, writing in their monasteries for the edification of their brethren. They might err through ignorance, they might exaggerate through party spirit; but they had no temptation to win anybody’s favour by wilful omissions or perversions. The Biographer, with far better means of knowing the exact truth, laboured under all the difficulties of a courtier. He had to please one who was at once the daughter of Godwine, the widow of Eadward, the sister of Harold, and the favoured subject of William.

The two Chroniclers agree in making the outrages of Eustace at Dover the main cause of the dispute. The Peterborough writer adds, as a collateral cause, the misconduct of the Frenchmen in Herefordshire. There is here no inconsistency, but simply an omission on the part of the Worcester writer. And, after all, the Worcester writer, though he does not directly tell the Herefordshire story, yet incidentally shows his knowledge of it, both in his present narrative (see p. 142, note 5, where I have mentioned the singular mistake of Florence) and in his entry of the next year (see p. 311). The Biographer says nothing about either Eustace or Herefordshire; he speaks only of a revival of the old calumnies by Archbishop Robert. Of this last cause the Chroniclers say nothing. But there is no real inconsistency between these accounts. Nothing is more likely than that Robert would seize such an opportunity again to poison the King’s mind against Godwine. But these private dealings in the royal closet would be much more likely to be known, and to seem of great importance, to a courtier and royal chaplain than to men who were watching the course of public affairs from a distance. And we must not forget that, when the Biographer wrote, Robert was dead and had no one to speak for him, while Eustace and Osbern of Herefordshire were high in William’s, therefore probably in Eadgyth’s, favour. It might therefore be inconvenient to enlarge too fully on their misdeeds. The Biographer in short reports the intrigues of the court, while the Chroniclers record the history of the nation. I accept his account, not as an alternative, but as a supplement, to the account in the Chronicles, and I have accordingly worked in his details into my own narrative. As to the broad facts of the story, the meeting at Gloucester, the presence of the great Earls, and the adjournment to London, all our witnesses agree.

One great apparent discrepancy between the two Chroniclers at the very outset of the story, is, I am now convinced, merely apparent. As we read the tale in Florence (1051), the violent conduct of Eustace took place immediately upon his landing at Dover (“Eustatius ... paucis Doruverniam applicuit navibus; in quâ milites ejus ... unum è civibus peremerunt," &c.). Now it is impossible to reject the clear and detailed story of the Peterborough writer, according to which the affair took place, not on Eustace’s landing, but on his return from the court at Gloucester. It now seems to me that there is here simply an omission on the part of the Worcester writer, and that Florence was misled by his expression, “on þam ylcan geare com Eustatius up æt Doferan,” &c. Taken alone, this would certainly give one the idea which it seems to have given Florence, but, with the fuller light of the Peterborough narrative, we may fairly take it the other way. If this explanation be not accepted, there can be no doubt that the Peterborough story is the one to be followed. But it must be remembered that, if any one chooses to accept Florence’s story, the case of Godwine and his clients is thereby made still stronger. As Florence tells the tale, the men of Dover were not simply resisting an act of violence done within the Kingdom; they were resisting what would seem to them to be an actual foreign invasion.

In the narrative of the events in Gloucestershire each of the Chronicles fills up gaps in the other. The Worcester writer leaves out Eadward’s command, and Godwine’s refusal, to subject Dover to military chastisement. On this point the Peterborough writer is naturally emphatic, and this part of the story seems to have awakened a deep sympathy in his copyist William of Malmesbury. Worcester also leaves out the King’s summons to the Witan, so that Godwine seems to levy his forces at once, as soon as he hears of the behaviour of Eustace. A quite different colour is thus given to the story, but it is merely by omission, not by contradiction. On the other hand Peterborough leaves out, what we cannot doubt to be authentic, Godwine’s demand for the surrender of Eustace and the other Frenchmen, and his threat of war in case of refusal. In fact the Worcester writer seems to dwell as much as he can on the warlike, and the Peterborough writer on the peaceful, side of the story. But the particular facts on which each insists are in no way contradictory, and I accept both. The Biographer confirms the Peterborough statement of a summons to the Witan, only he leaves out all the warlike part, and tells us of Godwine’s offer to renew his compurgation. This last fact is not mentioned by either Chronicler, but it does not contradict either of them. The mediation on both sides is mentioned in both Chronicles; the personal intervention of Leofric comes from Florence, but it is eminently in character. I was puzzled fourteen years back at finding what appeared in one account as an Assembly of the Witan, described in the other as a gathering of armies. I did not then realize so well as I do now that in those days an army and a Witenagemót were very nearly the same thing.

In the account of the adjourned Gemót in London, or perhaps rather under its walls, there are a good many difficulties, but no distinct contradictions. The Peterborough narrative is still the fuller of the two, and that which seemingly pays more regard to the strict order of events. The Biographer tells the story from his own special point of view, and helps us to several valuable personal notices of Stigand, Robert, and Godwine himself. His great object is to represent Godwine, no doubt with a good deal of exaggeration, as a model of submissive loyalty towards Eadward. It is too much when he tells us (p. 402), how the Earl “legationes mittens petiit ne præjudicium innocentiæ suæ inferretur à Rege, agebatque se in omnibus modis paratum ad satisfaciendum Regi, et cum jure et ultra jus, ad nutum voluntatis suæ.” On one small point we find a good instance of the way in which one authority fills up gaps in another. The Worcester Chronicle tells us that, when the Gemót was summoned to London, Godwine went to Southwark. Why to Southwark? It is easy to answer that it was a convenient spot, as being at once in his own Earldom and yet close to the place appointed for holding the Gemót (on Southwark and its relation to Godwine as Earl, see Domesday, 32). But the Biographer helps us to a still closer connexion between Godwine and Southwark (p. 402); “Dux quoque insons et fidens de propriâ conscientiâ semper immuni à tanto scelere, è diverso adveniens cum suis, assederat extra civitatis ejusdem flumen Temesin, loco mansionis propriæ.” So it is from the Peterborough and Worcester Chronicles put together that we see that Eadward summoned forces of two kinds, both fyrd and here (see p. 147), to his help at the London Gemót. The Worcester Chronicler says, “And man bead þa folce þider ut ofer ealne þisne norð ende, on Siwardes eorldome and on Leofrices and eac elles gehwær.” Here is the fyrd of the Northern Earldoms and something else. The last words, not being very clear, are slurred over in the version of Florence; “Rex vero de totâ Merciâ et Northhymbriâ copiosiorem exercitum congregavit et secum Lundoniam duxit.” But Peterborough tells us more; “And het se cyning bannan út here, ægðer ge be suðan Temese ge be norðan eall þa æfre betst wæs.” The fyrd of the North came, and the King’s comitatus, the “best men,” were also summoned, in virtue of their personal obligations, even within Godwine’s Earldom. But the fyrd of Wessex was, at first at least, on the side of its own Earl; for the Worcester writer says that Godwine came to Southwark “and micel mænegeo mid heom of Westsæxum.” He also directly after calls the King’s force here; Godwine and his force come to meet the King “and þone here þe him mid wæs.”

The main difficulty in this part of the story arises from an expression of each Chronicler about the surrender to the King of certain Thegns who were in the hands of Godwine or Harold. The first stage of the discussion in the Worcester Chronicle stands thus, “And man borh fæste þam kyninge ealle þa þegnas þe wæron Haroldes Eorles his [Godwine’s] suna.” In the Peterborough account, Godwine first demands hostages and a safe-conduct; then follows, “Ða gyrnde se cyng ealra þæra þegna þe þa eorlas ær hæfdon, and hi letan hi ealle him to hande.” Then the King again summons Godwine to come with twelve companions only, and Godwine again demands hostages and a safe-conduct. One would think that the transactions spoken of in two Chronicles must be the same; but, if so, the Worcester writer must have placed the demand for these Thegns out of its proper order, as he makes it come before the renewed outlawry of Swegen, which it clearly followed. And who were these Thegns? I once thought, with Mr. Kemble (Saxons in England, ii. 231), that they were the hostages who had been given to Godwine at the Gloucester Gemót. This would give an excellent meaning. Godwine has already received hostages, as leader of one of the two great parties who are recognized as equally in the King’s favour. He now demands further hostages for his own personal safety. The King, instead of granting them, demands the restoration of the former hostages. But, had this been the meaning, they could hardly fail to have been spoken of by the regular name gislas. Who then were the Thegns spoken of? I can hardly fancy that Godwine and Harold surrendered all their own personal Thegns, the members of their own comitatus. This seems to have been the notion of William of Malmesbury, though his account is very confused. The Earls are bidden “ut duodecim solùm homines adducerent; servitium militum, quos per Angliam habebant, Regi contraderent.” (So Lappenberg, p. 509 of the German original, Thorpe, ii. 249.) But surely such a surrender is improbable in itself, and it is hardly consistent with the licence to bring twelve companions, which implies that, after the surrender, they had still some comitatus left. I am therefore driven to suppose that some of the King’s Thegns within the Earldoms of Godwine and Harold had, notwithstanding the King’s summons, followed the Earls, that these Thegns were now called on to join the King, and that the Earls put no hindrance in their way.

It is curious, after reading William of Malmesbury’s account of all these matters, grounded on the patriotic Peterborough Chronicle, to turn to the passage quoted in a former note (p. 543) where he speaks of Godwine and his sons as banished on account of their sacrilege and other wickedness.

NOTE M. p. 174.
The Surnames of William.

It has been pointed out by more writers than one that a certain amount of confusion is involved in the familiar description of the great King-Duke as William the Conqueror. He is not often called “Conquæstor” by writers of or near his own time. Moreover, “Conquæstor” hardly means “Conqueror” in the common use of that word, but rather “Acquirer,” or “Purchaser,” in the wider legal sense of the word “purchase.” A former colleague of mine in the Oxford Schools always made a point of describing him as “William the Purchaser.” But the title of William the Conqueror, even as commonly understood, is so familiar, so true, and so convenient, that I have not the least wish to interfere with its use.

As far as I can see, he was known to his contemporaries as William the Bastard, and was, after his death, distinguished from his successor by the name of William the Great. The title of Bastard indeed stuck so close to him that some writers, who could hardly have known what it meant, seem almost to have taken it for his real name. Even Adam of Bremen, who certainly knew its meaning, uses it almost as a proper name. He introduces William (iii. 51) as “Willehelmus, cui pro obliquo sanguine cognomen est Bastardus,” and goes on to speak of “Bastardus victor,” and (c. 53) to say how “inter Suein et Bastardum perpetua contentio de Angliâ fuit.” So Marianus Scotus, a. 1089 (Pertz, v. 559), talks of “Willihelmus, qui et Bastart;” Lambert of Saint Omer (Pertz, v. 65) says, “Terra Anglorum expugnata est a Willelmo Notho Bastart;” and most curiously of all, Lambert of Herzfeld, a. 1074 (Pertz, v. 216), calls him “Willehelmus, cognomento Bostar, Rex Anglorum.” In our own Worcester Chronicle, a. 1066, he appears as “Wyllelm Bastard,” and in Olaf Tryggwasson’s Saga (p. 263), as “Vilialmur Bastardur Rudu Jarl.” So in Orderic (663 C), “Guillelmus Nothus.” So in the Annales Formoselenses (Pertz, v. 36), “Willelmus Bastardus invasit regnum Anglorum.” One writer (Chron. Gaufredi Vosiensis, Labbe, iii. 284) for “Bastard” uses the equivalent word “Mamzer”—“Normannorum Ducis filius Mamzer Guillelmus.”

It has been often said that William himself used the description in formal documents. This assertion rests on very slight authority. There is a charter in Gale’s Registrum Honoris de Richmond, p. 225 (a reference for which I have to thank Professor Stubbs), beginning “Ego Willielmus, cognomento Bastardus, Rex Angliæ.” But it seems to me to be palpably spurious, and those who accept it allow it to be unique.

The other title may be seen growing from the vaguer form of “the great William” to the more distinct “William the Great.” We read in a charter of William Rufus (Rymer, i. 5), “Ego Willelmus, Dei gratiâ, Rex Anglorum, filius magni Regis Willelmi.” So Eadmer (lib. iii. 57. Selden), “quando ille magnus Willielmus hanc terram primò devicit:” so William of Jumièges (vii. 16; cf. his description of Robert, vii. 1; see vol. i. p. 529), “Willelmus Dux magnus:” so the Ely History (ii. 41), “deditio Wilhelmi Regis magni.” But we find more distinctly in Orderic (706 C), “Henricus Guillelmi Magni Regis Anglorum filius,” and still more distinctly in William of Malmesbury (Prol. in lib. iv.), “Willelmus filius Willelmi Magni,” and in Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 393), “Vixit autem ad Willielmi Magni tempora.”

The earliest instance, as far as I know, of “Conquæstor” is in Orderic (603 A), who joins it with “Magnus”—“Guillelmus Magnus, id est Conquæstor, Rex Anglorum.” One of the foreign writers quoted above (Chron. Gaufredi Vosiensis, Labbe, iii. 293) comes still nearer to the modern idea. William Rufus is “Guillelmus filius magni Triumphatoris Guillelmi;” and elsewhere (284) he speaks of “Triumphator ille Guillelmus Mamzer.”

NOTE N. p. 177.
The Birth of William.

Several questions arise out of the narratives, historical and legendary, of the birth of the great William. No one doubts that he was the natural son of Duke Robert, or that he was born at Falaise; but there are several points open to doubt,—

1st, As to the origin of his mother;
2nd, As to the exact date of his birth;
3rd, As to the exact place of his birth;

4th, As to the number of his mother’s other children.

I will discuss these questions in order.

I. I have mentioned in the text, as a curious illustration of English feeling, the story which made William’s mother a descendant of the royal house of England. It will be found at length, with some curious details, in the Winchester Annals of Thomas Rudborne, Anglia Sacra, i. 247. Rudborne professes to get the story from a book called “Chronica Danorum in Angliâ regnantium.” As a piece of chronology and genealogy, the tale is strange enough. The tanner is called Richard, which looks rather as if he were a Frenchman, and he bears the surname of “Saburpyr,” the meaning of which is far from clear. His wife is distinctly said to be a daughter of Eadmund and Ealdgyth. Now Eadmund married Ealdgyth in 1015 (see vol. i. p. 412), and he died before the end of 1016. There is therefore hardly room for the birth of a daughter besides the apparently twin (see vol. i. p. 455) Æthelings, Eadmund and Eadward. Such a daughter must have eloped with the tanner at about the same time of life as Hermês when he stole the cows, and, as the mother of the mother of William, who was born at the latest in 1028, she must have been a grandmother at the age of twelve. William must also, besides being a distant cousin of Eadward, have been also a distant nephew, a fact nowhere else alluded to. In this tale William’s mother is called Helen, perhaps through some similarity of letters with Herleva.

The trade of Herleva’s father seems to be agreed on at all hands. He was a burgess of Falaise and a tanner. So the Chronicle of Saint Maxentius (Labbe, ii. 202); “Robertus Willelmum genuit ex eâ quæ fuit filia pelletarii burgensis.” In the narrative of William of Jumièges, the bastardy of the Conqueror and the calling of his maternal grandfather dawn upon the reader by degrees. He first, when describing Robert’s nomination of William as his successor, simply calls him “Willelmum filium suum, quem unicum apud Falesiam genuerat” (vi. 12). When he speaks of the indignation of the Norman nobles at William’s accession, he is driven to mention his bastardy; “Willelmus enim, ex concubinâ Roberti Ducis, nomine Herlevâ, Fulberti cubicularii Ducis filiâ, natus, nobilibus indigenis, et maximè ex Richardorum prosapiâ natis, despectui erat utpote nothus” (vii. 3). The later dignity of the grandfather is here put forward as a sort of forlorn hope; but when it is necessary to explain the point of the insults offered to William at Alençon, the unsavoury trade of Fulbert at last unavoidably peeps out; “Parentes matris ejus pelliciarii exstiterant” (vii. 18).

It is possible that the word “indigenis” in the second of the extracts just made may be taken to confirm the story according to which Fulbert was not only of a low occupation, but of foreign birth. Besides the English legend, which may possibly contain this small grain of truth, there is a tale in the Chronicle of Alberic “Trium Fontium” (a. 1035, Leibnitz, Accessiones, ii. 66), which is told with great glee by Sir Francis Palgrave (iii. 144). According to this version, Herbert, as he is called, was not a native of Falaise, but came with his wife Doda or Duixa from some place, either Chaumont or Huy (Hoium), in the Bishoprick of Lüttich. This tale however does not represent the tanner’s daughter as the original object of the fancy of Robert. The Count sees the daughter of his provost or bailiff (præpositus) at Falaise dancing, and asks for her; but the lover is made the subject of a trick, and the daughter of the tanner takes the place of the daughter of the bailiff. Here is food for the Comparative Mythologists, as this tale is the same as the tale of Richard and Gunnor, and as one of the legends of our own Eadgar. See vol. i. p. 279.

II. The date of William’s birth has been discussed by M. Deville in the Memoires de la Société des Antiquaires de Normandie, 1837, vol. xi. p. 179, and, after him, by M. Florent Richomme, in a pamphlet published at Falaise under the title of La Naissance de Guillaume-le-Conquérant à Falaise. There is no doubt that William was born in 1027 or 1028; M. Deville endeavours to fix the exact date to June or July, 1027. William was seemingly between seven and eight when Robert set out on his pilgrimage. “Habebat tunc,” says William of Malmesbury (iii. 229), “filium septennem.” So Wace (14360);

“N’aveit encor que sol set anz,
Petit esteit, n’ert mie granz,
Quant li Dus Robert se croisa
Et en Jerusalem alla.”

The date of Robert’s departure seems to be fixed to January, 1035, by a charter quoted by M. Deville from the Departmental Archives at Rouen. It is granted by Robert on the Ides of January, “quo et Hierusalem petiturus ibi licentiam eundi à Deo et sanctis ejus petii.” But it is argued that William was full eight years old when the news of his father’s death reached Normandy, and when he was accordingly invested with the Duchy. William of Jumièges (vii. 44) calls him “fere sexagenarius, anno ducatûs in Normanniâ LII,” at his death in September, 1087. This puts his birth in 1027, and his accession in 1035. Orderic (459 D) says that, at his accession, “tunc octo annorum erat,” and again (656 C) William is made to call himself at that time, “tenellus puer, utpote octo annorum.” It is therefore inferred that William attained the full age of eight years at some time after his father’s departure, but before his death, or at least before his death was known in Normandy. For this purpose six months or thereabouts is allowed, and it is thus ruled that William was eight years old in June or July, 1035, and was therefore born in June or July, 1027.

I am not fully convinced by these arguments. The expression of William of Jumièges, “ferè sexagenarius,” would seem to imply that William was not fully sixty in September, 1087, and, if he succeeded in July, 1035, he would then be in the fifty-third and not in the fifty-second year of his reign. Orderic indeed (459 D) says that he reigned fifty-three years, but, succeeding in 1035 and dying in 1087, he certainly did not reign fifty-three years full. And Orderic’s chronology is very confused on the matter; in the passage (656 C) where William calls himself eight years old at his accession, he calls himself sixty-four years old at his death (“mala quæ feci per LX quatuor annos”). This would put his birth in 1023, quite contradicting Orderic’s other statement. Moreover the Chronicle of Saint Michael’s Mount (Labbe, i. 348) calls him “septennis” at the time of his accession. It seems to me therefore that it is not safe to attempt to fix the date of William’s birth so minutely as M. Deville does, but that it certainly happened in 1027 or 1028, and more probably in 1027.

M. Deville connects the birth of William with that siege of Falaise which made Robert submit to his brother Richard (see vol. i. p. 517). This, and the death of Richard, he places in August, 1027. But William of Jumièges (vi. 2) distinctly says that Richard died in 1028, after a reign of two years (see vol. i. p. 517). Orderic (459 D), by making Richard reign a year and a half, might agree with M. Deville. Most of the Chronicles however make Richard die in 1026, the year of his accession. See the Chronicles of Fécamp (Labbe, i. 326), of Rouen (i. 366; cf. Duchèsne, 1017 B), of Saint Michael’s Mount (i. 348). The authority of William of Jumièges is no doubt much the highest, but his chronology is inconsistent with M. Deville’s view.

M. Deville has however done good service in bringing prominently forward the fact, which is commonly forgotten, that Robert, at the time of his first amour with Herleva, was not yet Duke of the Normans, but only Count of the Hiesmois, in which character Falaise was his capital. He has also well pointed out his extreme youth. Robert was the second son of Richard and Judith. The marriage contract of Judith, dated in 1008, is given in Martène and Durand’s Thesaurus Novus, i. 123. Robert could therefore hardly have been born before 1010; he could have been only eighteen at the most at the time of the birth of William, and only twenty-five at the time of his pilgrimage and death. His brother Richard, the father of the monk Nicholas, must have been equally precocious. Edward the Third too was only eighteen years older than the Black Prince; but at any rate he was married.

III. That William was born at Falaise all accounts agree; but there is not the faintest authority for placing his birth in the present donjon. M. Deville says that the tradition is a very modern one. A room is shown as that where William “fut engendré et nâquit,” and a sufficiently absurd inscription commemorates the supposed fact. But we have seen (see above, p. 176) that the existing keep is, in all probability, of a later date than William’s birth; and, if it did exist in Robert’s time, and if William were born in the castle at all, it is far more likely that Herleva would be lodged at such a time in some other part of the building, and not in the keep. The keep was not the common dwelling-place of the lord of a castle, but only his occasional place of defence. See Mr. G. T. Clark, Old London, pp. 14, 39, 43.

But there is another statement which, if it be trustworthy, as it seems to be, puts it beyond all doubt that William was not born in the castle at all, but elsewhere in the town of Falaise. The local historian of Falaise, M. Langevin (Recherches Historiques sur Falaise, 1814. p. 134), says, on the authority of “les anciens manuscrits extraits du chartier” of Trinity Church, Falaise, that William was born in 1027, in that parish, in a house belonging to him—that is, seemingly to his mother or her father—in the old market-place, and that he was baptized in Trinity Church. See Richomme, p. 12, who follows Langevin. One would like to have the exact extracts from the manuscripts, and to know something of their date; but in any case they are better authority than a romantic modern story, which seems not even to be a genuine tradition.

IV. Most writers state, or rather assume, that William was the only child of Robert and Herleva. The lioness was bound to bring forth only a single cub. But Mr. Stapleton, who pried into every corner in Norman matters, has, in a paper in the Archæologia (xxvi. 349 et seqq.), brought some strong arguments to show that William had a sister by the whole blood, Adelaide or Adeliza, wife of Enguerrand, Count of Ponthieu. This Adelaide was the mother of two daughters, one bearing her own name, who married Odo of Champagne, the other Judith, the too famous wife of our Earl Waltheof. The elder Countess Adelaide has been commonly taken to be only a half-sister of William, a daughter of Herleva by her husband Herlwin. She appears to have been so considered by the continuator of William of Jumièges (viii. 37), who calls the mother of Judith “soror uterina Willelmi Regis Anglorum senioris,” words which he would hardly use of a daughter of Robert. Still Mr. Stapleton’s case is very strong. It rests mainly on a charter, which Mr. Stapleton prints, granted to the College (afterwards Monastery) of Saint Martin of Auche (Alcis) near Aumale. Adelaide is there distinctly called the wife of Enguerrand and sister of William, and her daughters, Adelaide and Judith, are spoken of. After the death of her husband, she enriched the church of Saint Martin, and, while still young (“quum esset adhuc in juvenili ætate”), she had it hallowed by Archbishop Maurilius. Now Count Enguerrand died in 1053, and Maurilius was Archbishop of Rouen from 1055 to 1069. Mr. Stapleton thinks that these dates better suit a daughter of Robert and Herleva, who must have been born between 1028 and 1035, than a daughter of Herlwin and Herleva, who could not have been born before 1036. There are also two statements which, though erroneous as they stand, point to the parentage argued for by Mr. Stapleton as their groundwork. Thus Orderic (522 C) makes Odo of Champagne marry a sister of William and daughter of Duke Robert. The two Adelaides, mother and daughter, are here confounded, but the fact that Duke Robert had a daughter is preserved. So Robert de Monte, under the year 1026 (Pertz, vi. 478), preserves the name of Aeliz or Adelaide, daughter of Duke Robert, though he makes her the child of another mistress and not of Herleva. This is doubtless an attempt to reconcile the existence of Adelaide with the belief that William was an only child.

The Norman writers, it must be remembered, know nothing, or choose to say nothing, of the marriage of Robert with Cnut’s sister Estrith. See vol. i. p. 521. They look upon Herleva as Robert’s only consort, lawful or unlawful. So William of Malmesbury, iii. 229; “Unicè dilexit et aliquamdiù justæ uxoris loco habuit.” But no writer asserts any actual marriage, except the Tours Chronicler in Bouquet, x. 284. He marries Herleva to Robert soon after William’s birth (“Dux Robertus, nato dicto Guillelmo, in isto eodem anno matrem pueri, quam defloraverat, duxit in uxorem”). He also transfers the story of Herleva from Falaise to Rouen. Possibly also some notion of a marriage may have floated across the brain of our own Knighton, when he said (2339) that William was called “Bastardus,” “quod ante celebrationem matrimonii natus est.”

The story of the Tours Chronicler cannot be true, as such a marriage would have legitimated William, and he then could not have been known as William the Bastard. But Herleva might seem from William of Malmesbury’s words to have been looked on as something more than an ordinary concubine. It is strange that he should be the only writer who makes Herleva marry Herlwin during Robert’s lifetime. His words (iii. 277) are, “Matrem, quantùm vixit, insigni indulgentiâ dignatus est, quæ, ante patris obitum, cuidam Herlewino de Comitisvillâ, mediocrium opum viro, nupserat.” But William of Jumièges (vii. 3) distinctly puts the marriage after Robert’s death; “Postquam Hierosolymitanus Dux obiit, Herluinus quidam probus miles Herlevam uxorem duxit, ex quâ duos filios, Odonem et Robertum, qui postmodùm præclaræ sublimitatis fuerunt, procreavit.” According to Orderic (660 B), Herleva was the second wife of Herlwin, whose son Ralph by a former marriage was also promoted by William. The honours shown by William to his mother seem to have struck writers at a distance. Besides William of Malmesbury just quoted, the Tours Chronicle in the French Duchèsne (iii. 361) says, “Matrem dum vixit honorificè habuit,” and the Limousin writer William Godell (Bouquet, xi. 235) says, “Guillelmus Rex matrem suam, quamvis esset inferiori genere orta, multùm honoravit.” He goes on to mention the promotion of her sons.

Of the sons of Herleva, Odo and Robert, I need not speak here; but I may mention that she had also a daughter by Herlwin, named Muriel, who has naturally been confounded with William’s other sister Adelaide. Wace says (Roman de Rou, 11145),

“Ki à fame avait Muriel,
Seror li Dus de par sa mere
E Herluin aveit à pere.”

See Taylor’s note, p. 102.

One would have thought that the story of Robert and Herleva was one which could never have been forgotten. Yet later writers did not scruple to provide the Conqueror with new and strange mothers. Thomas Wikes, the royalist chronicler of the thirteenth century (Gale, ii. 22), gives William the following wonderful pedigree. He was “natus ex nobilissimâ muliere Matilde, quæ fuit filia strenuissimi militis Richardi dicti Sanz-peur, filii Willielmus [sic, at least in the printed text] Lungespeye, filii Rolandi, qui fuit primus Dux Normannorum.” And in an unpublished manuscript of the famous Sir John Fortescue of the fifteenth century (for a knowledge of which I have to thank the Right Hon. Chichester Fortescue), William is said to be Eadward’s “consanguineus germanus ex Gunhildâ amitâ suâ, sorore patris sui.” The confusion is delightful, but it preserves the fact that the kindred between William and Eadward had something to do with an aunt of one or other of them.

NOTE O. p. 254.
The Battle of Val-ès-dunes.

Since my account of the battle was written, I have received a small work by the Abbé Le Cointe, Curé of Cintheaux, called “Conspiration des Barons Normands contre Guillaume-le-Bâtard, Duc de Normandie, et Bataille du Val-des-dunes, 1047” (Caen, 1868). M. Le Cointe has examined the ground very carefully, both before and since my visit of last year, and the result of his researches is a most minute topographical account, full, accurate, and rich in local interest. I am glad to say that I do not find anything which calls upon me to alter my own shorter description. Since I was there, the foundations of the Chapel of Saint Lawrence have been brought to light, and many skeletons have been found there and in other parts of the field.

With regard to more strictly historical matters, M. Le Cointe, following in the main the same authorities as I do, gives essentially the same account. But he also makes use of a manuscript Chronicle of Normandy, which however seems not to be earlier than the fifteenth century, and whose mistakes he often stops to point out. Late writings of this kind are of course valuable only when there is reason to believe either that their authors had access to earlier written authorities now lost, or else that they embody trustworthy local traditions. The Chronicle in question contains two statements which, if true, are highly important, and the truth of which it would be most desirable to test. One is that the rebels were strengthened by a party of Angevins and Cenomannians, commanded by Enguerrand, nephew of Count Geoffrey Martel (Le Cointe, pp. 19, 35). The other is that the men of Caen—faithful among the faithless—took the side of the Duke (p. 18). It is quite possible that the influence of the local chieftains would be smaller in so considerable a city than it was at Coutances and Bayeux.

I would call particular attention to M. Le Cointe’s excellent remarks on the position of the rebel forces, in p. 25.

NOTE P. p. 274.
The Counts of Anjou and of Chartres.

With Geoffrey Grisegonelle, and still more with Fulk Nerra, we begin to get on firmer historical ground than we can find in the days of the earlier Counts. Fulk occupies an important place in the history of Rudolf Glaber, having two whole chapters (ii. 3, 4) pretty well to himself. And the exploits of Geoffrey derive more or less of corroborative testimony from several independent sources. The panegyrist of the family (Gest. Cons. 246) tells us that Geoffrey took an active part in resisting Otto’s invasion of France in 978 (see vol. i. p. 265). We learn from a distinct and contemporary authority that Geoffrey had before that taken a part in that wild raid against Aachen (see vol. i. p. 264) by which Lothar had provoked the German inroad. “Lotarius ... Lotharingiam calumniatus est. Cujus expeditionibus Gosfridus Comes Andegavorum, pater Fulconis ultimi, interfuit, nostræque ætatis multi viri” (Chron. S. Maxentii, Labbe, ii. 203). The words “Fulconis ultimi” could hardly have been used during the life of Fulk Nerra; it looks therefore as if the Chronicler wrote, in extreme old age, after Fulk’s death in 1040. These entries about Geoffrey’s attendance on Lothar fit in curiously with a Breton account (Chron. Brioc., Morice, p. 32), how Geoffrey seized on Guerech, the Breton Bishop and Count, on his return from the King’s Court, and forced him—setting a precedent for two more famous acts of his grandson—to surrender Nantes.

Rudolf Glaber is very full on the war between Geoffrey and Conan, and the battle of Conquereux (Concretus in Rudolf, Conquerentium in the Angevin, Concruz in the Breton, Chronicles) in the County of Nantes. The Bretons mention two battles on the same spot, one in 982, the other in 992 (v Kal Julii), when Conan was killed (Chron. Bret. ap. Morice, i. et seqq.); the Angevin writer (Labbe, i. 275) speaks of the latter only. In the battle recorded by Rudolf, Conan seems not to be killed, but only “truncatus dexterâ” (ii. 3). Conan, according to Rudolf, had taken the title of King, like several of his predecessors. This assumption may not have been unconnected with the great revolution of 987. Rudolf’s account of the Bretons (ii. 3) is amusing. Their land, “finitimum ac perinde vilissimum, Cornu Galliæ nuncupatur.” This vile country “habitatur diutiùs à gente Brittonum, quorum solæ divitiæ primitùs fuere libertas fisci publici et lactis copia, qui omni prorsùs urbanitate vacui, suntque illis mores inculti ac levis ira et stulta garrulitas.” Rudolf indeed is just now so full on Angevin matters that the local panegyrist is often content to copy him.

As for the Counts of Chartres, I was in vol. i. pp. 508, 509, misled by a passage of William of Jumièges (v. 10) into confounding the first and the second Odo. Odo the First died in 995, and was succeeded by his son Theobald, who was followed in 1004 by Odo the Second. It was this second Odo who waged the war about Tillières. In D’Achery, iii. 386, there is a charter of Richard the Good, restoring to the Church of Chartres lands which had been alienated from it, doubtless in the war of Tillières.

Rudolf Glaber (iii. 2) calls the younger Odo, “secundus Odo, filius scilicet prioris Odonis, qui quantò potentior, tantò fraudulentior ceteris.” He goes on to say, “Fuit etiam juge litigium et bella frequentia inter ipsum Odonem et Fulconem Andegavorum Comitem, quoniam uterque tumidus superbiâ, idcirco et pacis refuga.” The Angevin Chronicles, on the other hand, charge King Robert with leaving Fulk to fight their common battles all by himself. This first war, especially the battle of Pontlevois, will be found narrated in most of the Chronicles of the time. See Gest. Cons. 253. Chronn. Andeg. (Labbe, i. 275, 286, 287) 1016, 1025, 1026, 1027. Chron. S. Maxent. (Labbe, ii. 206) 1016, 1026. Chron. S. Florentii, ap. Morice, 122. The most striking piece of detail, the intervention of Aldebert of Perigeux in 990, comes from Ademar (iii. 34, ap. Pertz, iv. 131); “Urbem quoque Turonis obsidione affectam in deditionem accepit et Fulchoni Comiti Andegavensi donavit. Sed ille ingenio doloso civium amisit post paullulum, et iterum Odo Campanensis eam recuperavit.” Odo is prematurely called “Campanensis,” as he did not become Count of Champagne till 1019.

Odo’s last war (see p. 277) is described, among French writers, by Rudolf Glaber, iii. 9; in Gest. Cons. 254; and Chron. S. Petri Senonensis (D’Achery, ii. 475), where the date is given as 1046. It is described also by all the German writers, whom the matter more immediately concerned. See the authorities collected by Struvius, Hist. Germ. i. 342, to which may be added the very brief notices of Lambert under the years 1033 and 1037. The Kingdom of Burgundy, which came to an end in 1032 by the death of King Rudolf (see vol. i. p. 479), was claimed by Odo as well as by the Emperor Conrad, both being sisters’ sons to Rudolf. Odo obtained some advantages in Burgundy, and he is said to have received an offer of the Crown of Italy. He then contemplated a restoration of the Lotharingian Kingdom and a coronation at Aachen. In Germany he was clearly looked upon as the representative of French aggression. While one manuscript of Hermann calls him “Princeps Gallicæ Campaniæ,” another calls him “Princeps Carlingorum” (see Pertz, v. 121, and the old edition of Pistorius, p. 137). On this very remarkable expression, see vol. i. p. 172.

But still more remarkable is the sort of echo of these distant events which reached Ireland. In the Annals of Ulster, a. 1038 (O’Conor, Rer. Hib. Scriptt. iv. 324), we read of “Prœlium inter Cuana Regem ferorum Saxonum et Othonem Regem Francorum, in quo cæsi sunt millia plurima.” So in Tigernach, under the same year (O’Conor, i. 287), “Prœlium inter Cuanum Regem Saxonum et Otam Regem Francorum, in quo occisi sunt mille cum Otâ.” “Cuana” reminds us of “Cona” in our own Chronicles (1056), where however Henry is meant. It is also to be noticed that Conrad the Frank is called King of the Saxons. Not only is the Imperial dignity forgotten, but the memory of the great Saxon dynasty seems to extend itself over all succeeding Kings and Emperors. Then Odo, a French Count, striving after the Kingdom of Burgundy, or in truth after any Kingdom that he could get, is magnified into a King of the French. Lastly, “feri” seems to be a standing epithet for all Saxons, whether continental or insular. The Ulster Annals (O’Conor, iv. 326) in the very next year record the death of “Haraldus Rex Saxonum ferorum,” that is, Harold the son of Cnut.

NOTE Q. p. 276.
The Imprisonment of William of Aquitaine.

This imprisonment of William of Aquitaine is described at greater or less length by a whole crowd of writers. See the Gesta Consulum (257, 258), where the war is very fully narrated; the Angevin Chronicles under 1033; Chron. S. Mich. ap. Labbe, i. 350. Will. Pict. 86. Will. Malms. iii. 231. Chron. S. Maxent. 1032, 1035. According to the Gesta the war began out of the quarrel about Saintonge, and it is probably with reference to that County that both William of Poitiers and William of Malmesbury speak of the Duke of Aquitaine as the “lord” (dominus) of Geoffrey. The Chronicle of Saint Maxentius also speaks of the battle “juxta monasterium Sancti Jovini ad Montem Cærium” (Labbe, ii. 207). It is of course dwelt on at much greater length in the Gesta.

The cession of Bourdeaux, asserted by William of Malmesbury, seems hardly credible. The author of the Gesta, generally not indisposed to underrate the successes of the Angevin house, speaks only of the cession of the disputed territory of Saintonge. William of Poitiers (86) says only “argenti et auri pondus gravissimum, atque prædia ditissima extorsit.” And the Chronicles of Saint Maxentius (a. 1036) speak of no territorial cession at all, but only of a ransom; “Isembertus Episcopus Pictavis fecit synodum, ubi magnam pacem [doubtless the Truce of God] firmavit. Qui, cum Eustachiâ uxore Guillelmi Comitis, aliquantulùm exspoliavit monasteria auro et argento, unde redimerent eum.” He then mentions the deaths of William and Eustachia. It was perhaps the flourish of William of Poitiers (86) about Poitiers, Bourdeaux, and other cities obeying Geoffrey (“Andegavi, Turoni, Pictones, Burdegala, multæ regiones, civitates plurimæ”) which suggested a formal cession of Bourdeaux to the mind of William of Malmesbury.

There can be no doubt that Eustachia was the real wife of William the Fat, the prisoner of Geoffrey, and that Agnes, whom Geoffrey married, was only his father’s widow. William of Poitiers says distinctly that, after the death of William, Geoffrey “novercam præcipuè nobilitatis [she was daughter of Otto-William, Count of Burgundy] toro suo sociavit” (p. 86). He is followed by William of Malmesbury (iii. 231), who says, “Martellus, ne quid deesset impudentiæ, novercam defuncti matrimonio sibi copulavit.” So the Chronicle of Saint Maxentius, which places the death of William in 1036, places the marriage in 1037. This last Chronicle is the only one which gives us an intelligible reason for Geoffrey’s conduct in contracting this marriage. Agnes could not have been very young, fifteen or sixteen years after her first marriage in 1018 (Art de vérifier les Dates, ii. 354. The date, according to the Chronicle of Saint Maxentius, is 1023, but then the second marriage is put later also); but Geoffrey had a political motive. “Willermo Comite mortuo, Pictavenses in magno angore et anxietate positi de morte principis sui, sicut oves sine pastore relicti, Odonem Comitem, germanum ejus ex patre supradicto, ex Gasconiâ convocaverunt. Per hæc tempora Gaufredus Martellus duxerat uxorem supradictam Agnetem, caussâ Pictavensium, ut haberet sibi subditos adhuc duobus filiis suis, scilicet Petro et Gaufredo parvulis” (Labbe, ii. 207). The two boys were in the end (1044) established by Geoffrey as Counts of Poitiers and Gascony respectively.

Some of the Angevin and Norman Chroniclers seem to have confounded the two Williams, William the Great, the husband of Agnes, and William the Fat, her stepson, who was imprisoned by Geoffrey. They therefore make a strange hash of the story, making Geoffrey marry the wife of the prince whom he imprisoned, and that even during her husband’s lifetime. The Angevin Chronicler in Labbe, i. 276, puts the marriage of Agnes a year before the imprisonment of William (1032 and 1033). “Gaufridus Martellus,” he says, “Agnetem duxit incesto conjugio.” It is not clear whether there was any kindred between Geoffrey and Agnes, or whether the Chronicler called the marriage “incestum” because he fancied that Agnes had a husband alive. The Chronicle of Saint Michael’s Mount (Labbe, i. 350) is still more express. The marriage is recorded under 1032, and under 1033 we read that Geoffrey took prisoner William “cujus uxorem Agnetem ante duxerat.” There can be no doubt that both the chronology and the facts are altogether confused, and we are thus led to look with some little suspicion on the other events which the Angevin Chronicler connects both with the imprisonment and with the marriage. Under 1032, after recording the marriage, he adds, “Inde bellum illud exsecrabile quod contra patrem suum per annos ferè septem subsequentes impiè gessit.” On the imprisonment in 1033 he adds, “Quare orta est discordia inter patrem et matrem.” What could these things have to do with one another?

NOTE R. p. 319.
The Ravages attributed to Harold and Godwine.

The only writer who puts on anything like a tone of censure with regard either to Harold’s conduct at Porlock or to Godwine’s plundering along the south coast, is William of Malmesbury, and he does not draw the proper distinction between the doings of father and son. His words (ii. 199) are, “Exsulum quisque, de loco suo egressi, Britanicum mare circumvagari, littora piraticis latrociniis infestare, de cognati populi opibus prædas eximias conjectare.”

There is however a marked difference of tone in the way in which the story of Harold’s landing at Porlock is told by the different Chroniclers. The Abingdon writer, as I have often noticed, may be looked on as to some extent hostile to Godwine, and the Worcester writer, though on the whole favourable to the Earl, yet constantly follows the Abingdon narrative. The Peterborough version, I need hardly say, is quite independent, and is always strongly for Godwine. According to Abingdon and Worcester (1052), Harold landed and plundered, and then the people of the country came together to withstand him. He landed, they say, and “þær mycel gehergode, and þæt landfolc him ongean gaderodan.” But the Peterborough writer makes the local force to have been already brought together, and speaks of no ravaging till after Harold had found the country hostile. Harold came to Porlock—“and wes þær mycel folc gegaderod ongean. Ac he ne wandode na him metes to tylienne; eode úp, and ofsloh þær mycelne ende þes folces.” That is to say, the partizan of Godwine tells the tale in the way least unfavourable to Harold, while the hostile or indifferent writer tells it in the way most unfavourable. But the pains taken in both directions show that both writers agreed in thinking that the harrying and slaying, unless done in strict self-defence, was discreditable.

The Biographer of Eadward seems to have thought differently. He greatly exaggerates the ravaging, and tells the tale (405) in a tone of distinct triumph; “Ab ipsis Occidentalium Britonum sive Anglorum finibus usque quò Dux consederat, ferro, igne, et abductâ prædâ omne regnum sunt devastati.” It has been ingeniously suggested to me from this passage that the Biographer was a foreigner. His way of looking at this particular matter certainly stands out in distinct contrast to that of all the native writers. The supposition that he was a foreigner would account for many of the characteristics of his work. It would quite explain his evidently minute personal knowledge of many things, combined with his frequent inaccuracy about others. It would account for his invariable tendency to dwell on all personal details about the King, the Lady, and the Earls, and rather to slur over the political affairs of the Kingdom. But, if he was a foreigner, the spirit in which he writes forbids the notion that he was a Frenchman. Probably he was a member of the other importation from Lotharingia.

But it is very singular that, in the account of the plundering of Godwine in Wight and Portland, it is the Peterborough writer who puts matters in the strongest light; “And eodon þær úp, and hergodon swa lange þær þæt þæt folc geald heom swa mycel swa hi heom on legden; and gewendon heom þa westweard, oð þet hi comon to Portlande, and eodon þær úp, and dydon to hearme swa hwet swa hi dón mihton.” Abingdon, on the other hand, mentions the plundering only incidentally, when saying that it ceased after the meeting of Godwine and Harold; “And hi na mycelne hearm ne dydon syððan hig togædere comon, buton þæt heo metsunge namon.” And the juxtaposition of the words which follow is remarkable; “Ac speonnon heom eall þæt landfolc to be ðam sǽ riman, and eac up on lande.” The people joined Godwine, notwithstanding his plunderings.

The mention of the plundering in Sheppey (see p. 323) comes also from the Peterborough Chronicle only. These differences show that the several writers, though one often wrote in a different spirit from another, all wrote honestly, and that they did not wilfully either invent or conceal things for party purposes.

In the name of common fairness, as wishing to give to our common hero his due praise and no more, I must protest against the way in which the Porlock story is slurred over by Thierry and Mr. St. John. This part of Harold’s conduct cannot be defended, and it ought not to be concealed. It is enough that he wiped out the stain by his refusal on a later day to ravage one inch of the Kingdom which had been given him to guard.

NOTE S. p. 319.
The Narratives of the Return of Godwine.

Of the return of Godwine, as of his banishment, we have three original narratives, those of the Abingdon and Worcester Chroniclers, which may be reckoned as one, that of the Peterborough Chronicler, and that of Eadward’s Biographer. Each again show’s its respective character; each has its characteristic tone; each brings some particular facts into greater notice than the others; but there are no really important contradictions among them. The Peterborough writer retains his old character as the stoutest of all adherents of Godwine. The Abingdon Chronicler may be looked on as in some sort an enemy; it is at the end of this year that he breaks out into that complaint about Godwine’s appropriation of ecclesiastical property of which I have spoken elsewhere (see above, pp. 32, 351, 546). But he is not an uncandid enemy; some of the points which tell most strongly in Godwine’s favour come out with great force in his narrative; it is from him that we get the fullest picture of the zeal with which Godwine was received by the maritime shires. He also, as we have seen (see Note R.), though he makes the most of Harold’s ravages, makes the least of those of Godwine. This last feature is not what one would have expected. His dislike to Godwine follows him to his death, but in his late narrative it certainly is not extended to Harold. On the whole we may say that, as a monk, he has a certain personal feeling against Godwine, but that, as an Englishman, he is true to Godwine’s cause.

The Biographer takes his usual line. He is a courtier, comparatively careless of the march of public events, but full of personal incidents which are not to be found elsewhere. His narrative is nowhere richer than in those little indirect and unconscious touches which are often worth more than direct statements. I need hardly say that he is the most careless as to chronology of all three. The Peterborough writer, on the other hand, is the most attentive. I therefore make him my main guide throughout the story, but I draw touches and incidents from both the other sources without hesitation.

Thus, at the very beginning, the Abingdon writer makes the great accession which the men of Kent and Sussex made to Godwine’s force (p. 322) happen immediately on his first coming from Flanders, before he was pursued by the King’s ships. This is hardly possible, and we accordingly find from the Peterborough narrative that it really happened later, after the storm and the return to Flanders, incidents which the Abingdon writer leaves out. But it is from the Abingdon writer that we get that most emphatic expression of the popular attachment to Godwine, how the men of Kent, Surrey (a shire which I should have mentioned more distinctly in p. 322), and the other south-eastern districts, pledged themselves to “live and die” with the Earl. William of Malmesbury, as he so often does, follows Peterborough, though he is not without touches of his own.

Somewhat later in the story (p. 324), we find a good illustration of the peculiar value of the Biographer. The Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles clearly imply that Eadward knew nothing of the second attempt of Godwine till the Earl had reached Sandwich; “Þa Eadwerd cyng þæt geaxode,” &c. The question in the text as to the whereabouts of the King naturally occurs. Florence (1052) made a very obvious inference from his authorities, when he wrote, “Regi Eadwardo, tunc temporis Lundoniæ demoranti, illorum adventus nunciatur.” But these words are simply an inference; they do not translate any statement in the Chronicles, and we find from the Biographer, the best authority for the King’s personal movements, that it is a wrong inference; “Audito itaque Rex ejus [Godwini] violento et absque ejus nutu in regnum suum ingressu, quamquam fidem referentibus non accommodaret, tamen cum militari copiâ quâ poterat, Lundoniam venit” (Vita Eadw. 405). He therefore was elsewhere when he heard the news. The writer goes on to say, “Utque acri erat animo et promptissimæ strenuitatis, ingressum civitatis, quà tendebat, prohibere tentabat.” The words in Italics must apply to Eadward, and the Biographer would hardly venture upon satire. Æthelred himself, as we have seen, had his fits of energy, and Eadward also had his fits, if not of energy, at least of passion.

When we get to the negotiations on the evening of Monday, it is to the Peterborough Chronicler only that we owe our knowledge of the personal agency of Stigand (p. 329). A year before, the Biographer was the only writer who spoke of him. This is just the way in which, in a story of this kind, our several accounts fill up gaps in each other, and strengthen each other’s authority. The conduct attributed to Stigand at one time by one account exactly agrees with the conduct attributed to him at another time by another and quite independent account. The Abingdon Chronicle simply says, “Geræddon þa þæt man sende wise men betweonan, and setton grið on ægðre healfe.” So Florence, “Sapientiores quique [Roger of Wendover, or his copyist, or his editor, turns this into “sapientes quinque,” i. 491] ex utrâque parte, inter Regem et Ducem pacem redintegrantes, exercitum ab armis discedere jusserunt.” The Canterbury writer follows Peterborough in mentioning Stigand, but adds, rather unluckily, “þe was þes cinges rædgifa and his handprest.”

The adjournment till the morning of Tuesday appears from the words of Florence, “Mane autem facto, concilium Rex habuit.” These words answer to nothing in the actual narrative of any of the Chroniclers; but they are implied in what the Abingdon writer says afterwards; “Ðæt wæs on þone Monandæg æfter Sc̃a Marian mæsse þæt Godwine mid his scipum to Suðgeweorce becom, and þæs on merigen, on þone Tiwesdæg hi gewurdon sehte, swa hit her beforan stent.” We thus see that, in the flow of narration, especially in the rhetorical language of the Biographer, the events of two days have been run into one. This is especially shown in one expression of the Biographer. He makes one of the reasons which made Eadward finally yield at the Gemót to be because he saw that Godwine’s military force was the stronger (“Ducem, quem utique videbat, sibi satis, si uti vellet, superiorem armis”); this consideration would rather belong to the former day. It is clear that the “mycel Gemót,” as the Peterborough Chronicler triumphantly calls it, was held on Tuesday morning. Its details must be gathered from all sources. Bits of the official decrees peep out both in Abingdon and Peterborough, but it is the Peterborough writer, the stoutest Englishman that ever took pen in hand, who loves emphatically to dwell on the democratic character of this great gathering. It is from his expression “wiðutan Lundene,” combined with the description which the Biographer gives of Godwine and Eadward afterwards going together to the Palace (see p. 337), that we learn that the assembly was held in the open air. The Biographer cares little for the political character of the meeting, but there is no part of his whole narrative in which he is richer in those little personal touches which give him his chief value. His account is most graphic and animated, and the reader will easily see that I have largely drawn upon him.

The flight of Robert, Ulf, and the other Normans (see p. 300) certainly happened before the meeting of the Gemót, therefore doubtless on Monday evening. From the account in the Abingdon Chronicle and in Florence it might seem that it was on Tuesday, after sentence had been pronounced against them in the Gemót. But, in the more careful order of the Peterborough writer, it becomes plain that it happened immediately after the mission of Stigand, that is, on Monday; “Ða geaxode Rotberd arcebiscop and þa Frencisce menn þæt [the agreement made by Stigand] genamon heora hors and gewendon.” Then, after the details of their ride, comes the account of the Gemót. So William of Malmesbury, ii. 199. Before the Gemót, “Ille [Robert], non exspectatâ violentiâ, sponte profugerat, quum sermo pacis componeretur.” And this is confirmed by one of the incidental references in the Biographer. He does not directly describe the flight of Robert and his companions, but he speaks of the King at the Gemót as “destitutus imprimis fugâ Archipræsulis et suorum multorum, verentium adspectum Ducis, qui scilicet auctores fuerant illius concitati turbinis.”

The personal reconciliation between the King and Godwine, distinct from, and following after, the public votes of the Gemót (see p. 337), rests on the direct authority of the Biographer only. The Chroniclers naturally think mainly of the proceedings in the Assembly, and merge the private reconciliation in the public one. The chaplain of the Lady, as naturally, looks at things in an opposite way. It is possible however that, in one passage of his story, the Peterborough writer had the private reconciliation in his mind. Once, and once only, is his way of speaking less popular than that of his Abingdon brother. Where Abingdon says, “And man sealde Godwine clæne his eorldom swa full and swa forð swa he fyrmest ahte,” Peterborough has “and se cyng forgeaf þam eorle and his bearnum his fulne freondscype and fulne eorldom,” &c. This sounds very much as if the Peterborough writer was combining in his mind the public restoration by the Gemót and the personal reconciliation with the King. But in any case we cannot mistake the minute and local description given by the Biographer; “Rex itaque coactus tum misericordiâ et satisfactione Ducis ... devictus quoque precibus supplicantium, redditis armis suis, cum Duce in palatium processit, ibique, paullatim defervente animi motu sedatus, sapientium consilio usus, Duci osculum præbuit,” &c. (p. 406).

One or two points maybe here noticed. In the text (p. 337) I have said that the King and the Earl went “unarmed to the Palace.” But “redditis armis suis” would rather mean that Eadward returned to Godwine the arms which Godwine had laid at his feet (p. 334). The restoration of the official axe was not unlikely to be the outward sign of the restoration of the office itself. Again, it may be asked whether “sapientium consilio usus” means merely “following the advice of wise men,” or whether it is a technical expression, “in accordance with the decree of the Witan.” In a simpler writer I should be inclined to take it in the latter sense; but the Biographer, if he had chosen to talk directly about the Witan at all, would probably have used some more rhetorical phrase. Besides we have already, in the course of the story, read in the Chronicles of “wise men,” where the reference is clearly not to official but to personal wisdom.

There is certainly something very striking in the way in which our account of this great event has to be put together from several independent accounts, and in the amount of precision, even in very minute points, which we are able to reach by carefully comparing one with another. It is hardly necessary to collect together the shapes which the story takes in later writers, but I cannot pass by the way in which the Winchester annalist (p. 25) weaves the return of Godwine into the legend of Emma, which he places in 1043 (see above, p. 570). Eadward recalls Godwine at the prayer of his mother; “Precibus matris suæ revocavit Godwinum Comitem et filios ejus ab exsilio, et conceptum in eos rancorem remisit ad plenum, et singulis honores suos reddidit.” Selden also (Titles of Honour, pp. 525, 526) seems to have confounded this reconciliation between Eadward and Godwine with that imaginary reconciliation soon after Eadward’s election of which Bromton is so full. See vol. i. p. 574.

The story adopted by some writers, ancient and modern, about Godwine giving his son Wulfnoth and his grandson Hakon as hostages to the King, by whom they were immediately handed over to the keeping of Duke William, I mention here only lest I should seem to have forgotten it. It is part of the story of Harold’s oath, which I shall discuss at large in my next volume.

NOTE T. p. 338.
The Pilgrimage of Swegen.

I cannot help noticing the strange perversion of the story of Swegen which has been adopted by a writer generally so accurate as Dr. Lingard. “But to Sweyn,” he tells us (i. 341), “Eadward was inexorable. He had been guilty of a most inhuman and perfidious murder; and seeing himself abandoned by his family, he submitted to the discipline of the ecclesiastical canons.” This seems to come from Roger of Wendover (i. 491); “Rex ... pristinum honorem restituit Godwino et filiis ejus omnibus, præter Suanum, qui Beornum peremerat Regis [sic] consobrinum, unde, pœnitentiam agens, de Flandriâ nudis pedibus Hierosolymam petens, in reditu suo per viam defunctus est.” This would most naturally mean that Swegen set out on his pilgrimage after the restoration of his family, and it might also seem to imply that the pilgrimage was an imposed penance. But there is no doubt that Swegen had already set out for Jerusalem before his father left Flanders, and the expressions of the best writers seem to show that the penance was altogether self-imposed. On the former point the words of the Abingdon Chronicle (1052) are decisive; “Swegen for æror to Hierusalem of Bricge.” So Florence (1052), who also gives a hint on the other point; “Ille enim ductus pœnitentiâ, eo quod, ut prælibavimus, consobrinum suum Beorn occiderat, de Flandriâ nudis pedibus Jerusalem jam adierat.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 200; see above, p. 102) does not mention the time, but says that he went “pro conscientiâ Brunonis cognati interempti.” About the chronology then there is no doubt, and there is no reason to suppose that the pilgrimage was other than a self-imposed one. Swegen, in short, if a great criminal, was also a great penitent, and it is rather hard to deprive him of that character in order to exalt Saint Eadward and the ecclesiastical canons. Eadward had no opportunity of being inexorable; Swegen’s family had no opportunity of abandoning him; he probably did not need the discipline of the ecclesiastical canons; his own conscience had already pronounced sentence upon him. It was probably Florence’s expression “pœnitentiâ ductus” which suggested Roger’s “pœnitentiam agens,” and from the latter Dr. Lingard clearly got his idea of the ecclesiastical canons.

Thierry (i. 201) seems, contrary to the best accounts, but in conformity with a possible interpretation of Roger, to bring Swegen to the Gemót, and to make him banish himself there; “Tous les membres de cette famille populaire rentrèrent dans leurs honneurs, à l’exception d’un seul, de Sweyn, qui y renonça volontairement.” Out of this view Lord Lytton (Harold, i. 196 et seqq.) has made a fine scene.

The Abingdon Chronicle makes Swegen die at Constantinople; Florence places his death in Lykia. He adds that he died of the cold—“invalitudine ex nimio frigore contractâ.” Florence, writing with the Abingdon Chronicle before him, could have no motive to change the well known Constantinople into the less known Lykia, unless he had good information that Lykia really was the place. But the Chronicler might very easily put Constantinople, a thoroughly familiar name, instead of Lykia, of which he had perhaps never heard. William of Malmesbury (ii. 200) has quite another story; “A Saracenis circumventus et ad mortem cæsus est.”

A close parallel to the pilgrimage of Swegen is found in that of Lagman (on the name see vol. i. p. 510) King of Man, 1075–1093 (Munch, p. 4); “Rebellavit autem contra eum Haraldus frater ejus multo tempore. Sed tandem captus a Lagmanno, genitalibus et oculis privatus est. Post hæc Lagmannus, pœnitens quod fratris sui oculos eruisset, sponte regnum suum dimisit, et signo crucis dominicæ insignitus, iter Jerosolimitanum arripuit, quo et mortuus est.”

NOTE U. p. 342.
The Ecclesiastical Position of Stigand.

Stigand, as might have been expected, is as favourite an object of Norman abuse as Godwine himself. And abuse of Stigand is one degree more reasonable than abuse of Godwine. For, though Stigand’s conduct seems to have in no way infringed the laws of England, and though it might easily have been justified by abundance of English precedents, there can be no doubt that it offended against the strict laws of the Church as understood by continental canonists. Of the mingled state of English feeling with regard to him I have spoken in several passages of the text (see above, pp. 343, 432, 446); I will here bring together some of the chief authorities on the subject.

The offences of Stigand, as seen in the eye of the Canon Law, are thus stated by Florence, when recording his degradation in 1070;

“Stigandus Doruberniæ archiepiscopus degradatur tribus ex caussis, scilicet, quia episcopatum Wintoniæ cum archiepiscopatu injustè possidebat; et quia, vivente archiepiscopo Roberto, non solum archiepiscopatum sumpsit, sed etiam ejus pallium, quod Cantwariæ remansit, dum vi injustè ab Angliâ pulsus est, in missarum celebratione aliquamdiu usus est; et post à Benedicto, quem sancta Romana ecclesia excommunicavit, eo quod pecuniis sedem apostolicam invasit, pallium accepit.”

On Stigand’s plurality of Bishopricks, an offence in which he was far from standing alone, William of Malmesbury, as might be expected, gets more rhetorical, and yet, after all, he seems to see that, as things went, there was nothing so very monstrous in it. He mentions the matter in the Gesta Regum, ii. 199;

“Invasit continuò, illo [Roberto] vivente, Stigandus, qui erat episcopus Wintoniæ, archiepiscopatum Cantuariensem; infamis ambitûs pontifex, et honorum ultra debitum appetitor, qui, spe throni excelsioris, episcopatum Saxonum Australium deserens, Wintoniam insederit, illam quoque cum archiepiscopatu tenuerit.”

But in the Gesta Pontificum (116 b), after a good deal of abuse, he gets somewhat mollified;

“Nonne illud belluinæ rapacitatis dices, quod Wintoniæ episcopatum et Cantuariæ archiepiscopatum, præterea multas abbatias [see Hist. Eliens. ii. 41] solus ipse possidebat, quæ singula satis superque sufficerent alicui probo viro? Sed ego conjicio illum non judicio sed errore peccâsse, quod homo illiteratus (sicuti plerique et penè omnes tunc temporis Angliæ Episcopi) nesciret quantùm delinqueret, rem ecclesiasticorum negotiorum sicut publicorum actitari existimans.”

The feeling on the subject among strict churchmen comes out very forcibly in the words of the Abingdon Chronicler in 1053, when he records the foreign consecration of Wulfwig and Leofwine; “On ðisson geare næs ná arcebisceop on ðissan lande, butan Stigand bisceop heold þæt bisceoprice on Cantwarabyrig on Christes cyrcean, and Kynsige on Eoforwic; and Leofwine and Wulfwi foran ofer sæ and leton hig hadian hær to bisceopum.” I suppose all that is meant about Cynesige is that he had not yet received the pallium, as I do not know of any objection having been made to his appointment. The Waltham writer (De Inventione, c. 16) has an expression which in a contemporary writer would be still more forcible. He tells us that Harold had his minster consecrated by Cynesige, “quia tunc vacabat sedes Cantuariæ.” But, a hundred years later, the words may simply imply an imperfect understanding of the facts.

I have mentioned in their proper places the various Bishops who declined consecration at the hands of Stigand, and sought it elsewhere (see pp. 343, 453). The most important instance is that of Saint Wulfstan (see p. 466), on account of the distinct, though at first sight apparently contradictory, evidence which we have on the subject. I think that the distinct statement of Florence (1062) cannot be got over. It runs thus;

“Consecratus est igitur Episcopus à venerando Aldredo Eboracensium Archiepiscopo, eò quòd Stigando Doruberniæ Archiepiscopo officium episcopale tunc à Domino Apostolico interdictum erat, quia, Rodberto Archiepiscopo vivente, archiepiscopatum suscipere præsumpsit; canonicâ tamen professione præfato Dorubernensi Archiepiscopo Stigando, non suo ordinatori Aldredo, factâ.”

This seems to show that, in Florence’s belief, the Legates brought with them a distinct and fresh decree against Stigand (“officium ... tunc interdictum est.” Cf. Vita Wlstani, Ang. Sacr. ii. 251; “Quod Cantuariensi Stigando Romanus Papa interdixisset officio”); that Wulfstan, in obedience to the Papal orders, refused consecration at the hands of Stigand, but that he nevertheless made canonical profession to him as the de facto Archbishop. Now this account is not a mere obitèr dictum of Florence; it is one of those statements of his which have a controversial force. It is evidently meant as an answer to some other statement; it is akin to his memorable description of Harold’s election and coronation, in which every word disposes of some Norman calumny. It expresses, in short, the deliberate conviction of a man of local knowledge and sound judgement. On the other hand, the words of the later profession of Wulfstan to Lanfranc (a document which is not printed, but for a copy of which I have to thank Professor Stubbs) seem to deny that he had ever made any earlier profession at all. His words are;

“Quo tempore ego Wulstanus ad Wigorniensem Wicciorum urbem sum ordinatus episcopus, sanctam Dorobernensem ecclesiam, cui omnes antecessores meos constat fuisse subjectos, Stigandus jampridem invaserat, metropolitanum ejusdem sedis vi et dolo expulerat, usumque pallii quod ei abstulit contemptâ apostolicæ sedis auctoritate temerare præsumpserat. Unde à Romanis Pontificibus, Leone, Victore, Stephano, Nicolao, Alexandro, vocatus, excommunicatus, damnatus est. Ipse tamen, ut cœpit, in sui cordis obstinatione permansit. Per idem tempus jussa eorum Pontificum in Anglicam terram delata sunt prohibentium nequis ei episcopalem reverentiam exhiberet, aut ad eum ordinandus accederet. Quo tempore Anglorum præsules, alii Romam, nonnulli Franciam sacrandi petebant; quidam vero, ad vicinos coepiscopos accedebant. Ego autem Alredum Eboracensis ecclesiæ antistitem adii; professionem tamen de canonicâ obedientiâ usque ad præsente diem facere distuli.”

I suspect that Wulfstan meant to say that he had made no profession to Ealdred, and that Lanfranc, or some cunning foreign clerk, wrapped the matter up in the folds of a subtilty which the English Bishop most likely did not above half understand. A document which ventures to say that Stigand—and not the English people—drove Robert into exile could hardly be the genuine composition of the chosen friend of Harold. The simplicity of the saint was doubtless imposed upon, and his hand was set to a paper which gave a false view of the case. Florence seemingly thought it his duty to put a counter-statement on record.

NOTE W. p. 351.
The Death of Earl Godwine.

The Biographer gives no details of the death of Godwine. He merely says (408) that he died in the year after his return (“reconciliatis ergo Duce et ejus filiis cum Rege, et omni patriâ in pacis tranquillitate conquiescente, secundo post hæc anno, obiit idem Dux felicis memoriæ”). He then mentions the grief of the nation, the Earl’s solemn burial in the Old Minster (“tumulatur condigno honore in monasterio, quod nuncupant, veteri Wintoniæ”), and the offerings made for the repose of his soul.

All the Chronicles mention the Earl’s death. The Winchester Chronicle, in one of its rare entries at this time, says simply, “1053. Her Godwine Eorl forðferde.” The late Canterbury Chronicle adds the exact date; “1053. Her was Godwine Eorl dead on xvii. Kal. Mai.” Peterborough adds the place of burial; “1053. Her on þisum geare forðferde Godwine Eorl on xvii. Kal. Mai, and he is bebyrged on Winceastre on ealda mynstre.” But it is from the Worcester, and still more from the Abingdon Chronicler, that we learn the details which I have followed in the text, and on a perversion of which the Norman romance is evidently founded. The Worcester writer’s account (1053) is put out of place, after events which happened later in the year. He tells us that the Earl was taken ill while he sat with the King at Winchester “him geyfelode þær he mid þam cynge sæt on Wincestre”). The Abingdon Chronicler is much fuller. He mentions the death of Godwine twice. First, in 1052, he gives us the very important fact that the Earl began to sicken soon after his return (see above, p. 348), and it is here that he makes his complaint of Godwine’s spoliations of holy places (see above, p. 545). Under 1053 he gives the story of his death. The King is at Winchester at Easter, and Godwine, Harold, and Tostig (“Godwine Eorl, and Harold Eorl his sunu, and Tostig.” See p. 567 on the way of describing the two brothers) are with him. He then goes on,

“Ða on oðran Easter dæge sæt he mid þam Cynincge æt gereorde; þa færinga sah he niðer wið þæs fotsetles spræce benumen, and ealre his mihte; and hine man ða brǽd into ðæs Kinges bure, and ðohtan þæt hit ofergán sceolde; ac hit næs na swa, ac þurhwunode swa unspecende and mihteleas forð oð þone Ðunresdæg, and ða his lif alét, and he lið þær binnan ealdan mynstre.”

Florence (1053) translates this account, with the addition of one or two touches;

“Eodem anno, dum secunda paschalis festivitatis celebraretur feria Wintoniæ, Godwino Comiti, more solito Regi ad mensam assidenti, suprema evenit calamitas, gravi etenim morbo ex improviso percussus, mutus in ipsâ sede declinavit. Quod filii ejus, Comes Haroldus, Tosti, et Gyrth videntes, illum in Regis cameram portabant, sperantes eum post modicum de infirmitate convalescere; sed ille expers virium, quintâ post hæc feriâ, miserabili cruciatu vitâ decessit, et in veteri monasterio sepultus est.”

I am not sure that we do not here, in our own Florence, find the first touches of romance, or rather the first influence of the romantic tales which were doubtless already afloat in his time. He leaves out the mention of Godwine’s previous illness, he enlarges on the suddenness of the stroke, and he adds the “miserabilis cruciatus,” of which we hear nothing in the Chronicles, and which seems to come from the death of Harthacnut (see vol. i. p. 591).

We are now fairly landed in the region of romance. The sudden death of Godwine at the royal table probably suggested the thought of that form of ordeal in which the guilt or innocence of the accused person was tested by his power of swallowing a morsel, blessed or cursed for the purpose. It is possible that the tale of Ælfred the conspirator against Æthelstan was not forgotten. Ælfred, according to the story (Will. Malms. ii. 137), was in the like manner struck before the altar after his false oath before Pope John, and died on the third day. The legend of Godwine appears in shapes in which both these sources can be recognized. According to William of Malmesbury (ii. 197), Eadward and Godwine were sitting at table discoursing about the King’s late brother Ælfred (“orto sermone de Elfredo regis fratre”); Godwine says that he believes that the King still suspects him of having had a hand in his death (“Tu, Rex, ad omnem memoriam germani, rugato me vultu video quod aspicias”); but he prays God that the morsel which he has in his hand may choke him (“non patiatur Deus, ut istam offam transglutiam”) if he had ever done anything tending to Ælfred’s danger or to the King’s damage (“ad ejus periculum, vel tuum incommodum”). Of course the morsel does choke him, and he dies then and there; he is dragged from under the table by his son Harold, who is in attendance on the King (“qui Regi adstabat”), and is buried in the cathedral of Winchester (“in episcopatu Wintoniæ”). The moral of course is not wanting—“Deum monstrâsse quam sancto animo Godwinus servierit;” but it is only fair to William to say that his infinitive mood shows that he is telling the tale only as part of the Norman version of Godwine’s history (see above, p. 536).

The Hyde writer (p. 289) tells the story in a shape which is still more distinctly borrowed from the story of Ælfred. The scene is changed to London. Godwine sees that the King’s mind is still kept back from a thorough reconciliation by the remembrance of the death of his brother (“animadvertens animum Regis Edwardi pro injustâ fratris sui interfectione erga se non esse sincerum”). He therefore constantly tries to regain his favour by frequent assertions of his innocence. He and the King are present in a church at the time of mass; Godwine, of his own free will (“nullo cogente sed ipso Rege cum Principibus vehementer admirante”), steps forward to the altar, takes the chalice in his hand, and pledges himself by a solemn oath (“cunctis audientibus inaudito se juramento constrinxit”) that he had had no share in the death of Ælfred. The King and the Earl then go to dinner, and the rest of the story is told in nearly the same way as by William of Malmesbury, only in a rather more impressive style. The morsel sticks in Godwine’s throat (“buccellam ori impositam, urgente eum divino judicio, nec glutere potuit, nec revertere, sed in amentiam versus terribiliter cœpit exspirare”). Harold, who, as in the other version, is in attendance on the King (“qui servitoris officio Regi adstabat”), carries him out while still breathing (“jam extremum spiritum trahentem, foras asportavit”).

In Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 760 B) the chief difference from the version of William of Malmesbury is that the death of Ælfred is not mentioned. The scene is removed to Windsor (“apud Windleshores, ubi plurimùm manere solebat”); the conversation at dinner between the King and the Earl turns upon Godwine’s supposed treasons against the King himself, a subject quite as strange as the death of Ælfred; Godwine (“gener suus et proditor, recumbens juxta eum”) seemingly volunteers the remark that he has been often falsely accused of plotting against the King, but that he trusts that, if there be a true and just God in heaven, he will make the piece of bread choke him, if he ever did so plot. The true and just God, we are told, heard the voice of the traitor, who, as the chronicler charitably adds, “eodem pane strangulatus mortem prægustavit æternam.”

But there was something very lame in both these shapes of the story. Why should Eadward and Godwine choose as the subject of their discourse the topics which of all others one would have thought that both of them would have wished to avoid? Why should either Eadward or Godwine, in the familiar intercourse of the dinner-table, fall talking either about the murder of Ælfred or about any other treasonable doings of the Earl? William and Henry give us no clue. The Hyde writer solves the difficulty, but in rather a desperate way. In the next stage of the legend the explanation is much more ingeniously supplied. Some teller of the story lighted on an ancient legend which William of Malmesbury had recorded in its proper place (ii. 139), but which he had not thought of transferring to this. There was an old scandal against King Æthelstan, to the effect that he exposed his brother Eadwine at sea, on a false charge of conspiracy brought by his cup-bearer. Seven years after, the cup-bearer, handing wine to the King, slips with one foot, recovers himself with the other, and adds the witty remark, “So brother helps brother.” But King Æthelstan is thereby minded how this same man had made him deprive himself of the help of his brother, and he takes care that, however strong he may be on his feet, he shall presently be shorter by the head, which had no brother to help it. This story (of which I have spoken in an article in the Fortnightly Review, May 1, 1866) is worked into the legend of Godwine by Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 395), in the French Life of Eadward (3253 et seqq. p. 117), in Roger of Wendover (i. 492), the Winchester Annals (p. 25), Thomas Rudborne’s Winchester History (Ang. Sacr. i. 239), Bromton (X Scriptt. 944), and Knighton (X Scriptt. 2333). In all these accounts we read, with no difference of any importance, how, as Eadward and Godwine are at table, the cup-bearer slips and recovers himself, how Godwine says, “So brother helps brother,” how Eadward answers, “So might my brother Ælfred have helped me, but for the treason of Godwine.” The Earl’s protestations of innocence, and the fearful test which he offers, have now a certain propriety, and the rest of the story follows much as in William of Malmesbury. The ball however has grown somewhat in its rollings, and some characteristically strong language is put into the mouth of the Saint. “Drag out the dog” (“extrahite canem,” or “canem istum”) is the King’s terse command, as it appears in Æthelred and Bromton. In the French Life this is, by a slight improvement, developed into “this stinking dog” (“treiez hors ceu chen punois”); while in most of the versions Eadward goes on to order his father-in-law to be buried in the highway, as unworthy of Christian burial (“extrahite canem hunc et proditorum et illum in quadrivio sepelite, indignus est ut Christianam habeat sepulturam”). The burial in the Old Minster was, we are assured by Roger of Wendover, done wholly without the King’s knowledge (“Rege id penitus ignorante”). One or two other smaller points may be noticed. Bromton and Knighton, like Henry of Huntingdon, transfer the story to Windsor, and the Winchester Annals more strangely transfer it to Odiham. Roger of Wendover and Thomas Rudborne make the King bless the morsel, before Godwine takes it; and the latter mentions another version, according to which it was blessed by Saint Wulfstan. The presence of the Prior of Worcester at the royal banquet is not accounted for. The Winchester Annals, with an obvious scriptural allusion, tell us that with the morsel Satan entered into Godwine (“introivit in illum Sathanas”). Lastly, Bromton turns the cup-bearer whose foot slips into no less a person than the Earl of the East-Angles. One wonders that the legend of the quarrel between Harold and Tostig was not dragged in here also.

After all this, it is with some relief that one turns to honest Wace (10595), who at least had the manliness to confess that there were things which he did not know;

“Gwine poiz remist issi,
Li Reiz en paiz le cunsenti.
Jo ne sai cumbien i dura,
Maiz jo sai bien k’il s’estrangla
D’un morsel ke li Roiz chigna
Al’ aünie ù il mainga.”

Such is the rise and progress of this famous legend. I venture to think that a better instance of the gradual growth of invention is hardly to be found in the whole range of mythology.

NOTE X. p. 362.
The War with Macbeth.

Several points of dispute are opened by Siward’s expedition against Macbeth. In the popular story Macbeth is killed, and Malcolm is put in full possession of the Kingdom of Scotland, as the immediate result of the battle fought by Siward. On the other hand, authentic history makes Malcolm wage a much longer struggle, as I have mentioned in the text. The point which is left obscure is what share the English allies of Malcolm took in the war after the defeat of Macbeth by Siward.

On the other hand, a question has been raised by Mr. E. W. Robertson, whether the expedition of Siward had anything at all to do with the restoration of Malcolm. I cannot look on this question as much more than a cavil; still it may be as well to state the objection and the answer to it, as coming first in chronological order, before examining the other points.

1. The objection brought by Mr. Robertson (Scotland under her Early Kings, i. 122, 123) against the commonly received view as to the objects of Siward’s expedition seems to rest on no ground except that, as he says, “neither the contemporary Irish annalist, nor the two MSS. of the Chronicle which describe the expedition of Siward, allude to any cause for it, or note any result beyond the immense booty acquired.” “They never,” he adds, “mention the name of Malcolm or of the Confessor.” Elsewhere (ii. 400) Mr. Robertson calls it an “expedition which appears to have been directed against Macbeth on account of the protection he has afforded to the Norman favourites of the Confessor.” Now this last explanation is a mere conjecture of Mr. Robertson’s own. There is not a scrap of evidence in support of it, while on the other side we have the distinct statement of Florence. Florence tells us directly that one object at least of Siward’s expedition was the restoration of Malcolm (“Malcolmum, Regis Cumbrorum filium, ut Rex jusserat, Regem constituit”). He is followed, in nearly the same words, by the Manx Chronicler (1035, Munch, p. 3). Mr. Robertson’s conjecture seems to me to be not only unsupported, but utterly improbable. There is nothing to show that Macbeth had given any further offence by receiving the Norman exiles. They had been allowed to go peaceably into Scotland (see above, p. 346), and some of them had actually been recalled to England. That, being in Scotland, they fought on the Scottish side, does not prove that the war was in any way waged against them. To fight on behalf of the side on which they found themselves for the moment was only the natural conduct of Normans anywhere. And, besides all this, the whole story of these Norman exiles rests on the authority of Florence. It is from him alone that we learn that they took any part in the battle, or indeed that there were any Norman exiles in Scotland at all. If the authority of Florence is good to prove these points, it is surely equally good to prove the objects of the expedition. And it is not merely the authority of Florence; it is Florence confirmed by Simeon of Durham, our best authority for all Northern matters (see X Scriptt. 187). That the Chronicles are silent on some points, that the Peterborough Chronicle is silent altogether, will amaze no one who remembers how capriciously Scottish and Northumbrian affairs are entered or not entered in our national annals. The Abingdon and Worcester Chroniclers were struck with the general greatness of Siward’s exploit, but the cause of Malcolm had no interest for them. The Peterborough Chronicler, the sworn partizan of the house of Godwine, did not trouble himself to take any notice of an event which neither enhanced the glory of Harold nor touched the interests of his own abbey. But the fact that Simeon held Florence’s narrative to be worth copying without addition or alteration at once stamps its authenticity. Simeon’s approval at once sets aside all negative arguments, all talk about the “misrepresentations of Anglo-Norman writers,” whoever may be meant by that name.

Mr. Burton (i. 373) seems to have no doubt about the matter.

2. The nature of Siward’s troops is well marked in the language of the different accounts. The here and the fyrd are clearly distinguished. The Worcester Chronicle (1054) says, “Her ferde Siward Eorl mid miclum here on Scotland, ægðer ge mid sciphere and mid landfyrde.” This Florence translates, “Strenuus Dux Northhymbrorum Siwardus, jussu Regis, cum equestri exercitu et classe validâ Scottiam adiit.” Then, in describing the slaughter of the English, Abingdon says, “Eac feol mycel on his [Siwardes] healfe ægðer ge Densce ge Englisce.” So Florence, “Multi Anglorum et Danorum ceciderunt.” The Worcester Chronicle says, “And of his [Siwardes] huscarla and of þæs cynges wurdon þær ofslægene.” I take the here, the housecarls, and the equestris exercitus, all to be the same thing, and I take the “Danish and English” of one account to answer to the “Housecarls of the Earl and of the King” in the other. The Housecarls were doubtless an “equestris exercitus” in the sense of which I spoke in vol. i. p. 566. They did not fight on horseback, but they, or many of them, rode to battle (see also vol. i. p. 298), while the levies of the shires, no doubt, for the most part walked. The King’s Housecarls, we see, were wholly or mainly Englishmen, chiefly no doubt West-Saxons; those of the Earl would doubtless be Danes in the sense of being inhabitants of the Denalagu, some perhaps in the sense of being actually adventurers from Denmark. The Housecarls now clearly take the place of the old comitatus; the stress of the battle now falls mainly on them, just as of old it fell on the noble youths who fought around Brihtnoth (see vol. i. pp. 91, 298, 490). So, on the Scottish side, we read in the Worcester Chronicle that Siward “feaht wið Scottas ... and ofsloh eall þæt þer betst wæs on þam lande.” The special mention of the Normans comes from Florence; “Multis millibus Scottorum, et Nortmannis omnibus, quorum suprà fecimus mentionem, occisis.” The Ulster Annals (Johnston, 69; O’Conor, Rer. Hib. Scriptt. iv. 334) speak of this battle as “prœlium inter viros Albaniæ et Saxones.” They undertake to give us the numbers of the slain, three thousand on the Scottish side, and fifteen hundred “Saxons.”

3. That Siward lost a son in the battle is asserted by the Abingdon Chronicler and by Florence; but they do not give his name. The Worcester writer is more express. Among the slain were “his sunu Osbarn and his sweoster sunu Sihward.” The story of Siward asking about his son’s wounds is told, and well told, by Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 760 A) and Bromton (X Scriptt. 946). But Henry carries back the story to the year 1052, and both he and Bromton conceive Osbeorn Bulax, as Bromton calls him, to have died in an earlier expedition in which his father had no share. Siward, hearing a satisfactory report of the manner of his son’s death, goes in person and avenges him (“Siwardus igitur in Scotiam proficiscens, Regem bello vicit, regnum totum destruxit, destructum sibi subjugavit”). If there is any meaning in this wild exaggeration, the subjection of Scotland to Siward must mean the establishment of Siward’s kinsman Malcolm as King. But it is hard to make the story of Osbeorn’s death and Siward’s inquiries fit in with the fact that Osbeorn died in a battle in which Siward himself was present. According to the analogies of Maldon and Senlac, the Earl, his son, and his nephew would stand near together in the fight, and there would be no need of messengers to announce the manner of Osbeorn’s death.

Bromton has also preserved another tradition about the death of Osbeorn, which is palpably mythical as it stands, but which seems, in common with several other hints, to point to a strong feeling of disaffection towards Siward as rife in Northumberland. Siward goes into Scotland, leaving Osbeorn as his representative in his Earldom. After his victory he hears that the Northumbrians have revolted and killed his son. He then, in his wrath, performs an exploit like that of Roland in the Pyrenees (“Siwardus inde iratus in scopulo adhuc patente cum securi percussit”); he gives Scotland to Donald (inaccurately for Malcolm), and returns to Northumberland to take a stern vengeance on his enemies (“patriam rediit et inimicos suos in ore gladii percussit”).

4. As to the result of the battle, there can be no doubt. Macbeth was defeated, but not killed. But the false account followed by Shakespere (who also confounds Osbeorn with his cousin the younger Siward) is as old as William of Malmesbury. He speaks (ii. 196) of “Siwardus Northimbrensium [Comes], qui jussu ejus [Edwardi] cum Scotorum Rege Macbethâ congressus, vitâ regnoque spoliavit, ibidemque Malcolmum, filium Regis Cumbrorum, Regem instituit.” It is singular that William should have fallen into an error which not only contradicts the earlier authorities, but which has been avoided by many writers much later and more careless than himself. The agreement on this head is complete. The escape of Macbeth is implied in the words of the Worcester Chronicle (“Siward ... feaht wið Scottas and aflymde þone kyng Macbeoðen”) and of Florence (“illum fugavit”); and it is still plainer in the Abingdon version (“Siward ... mycel wæl of Scottum gesloh, and hig aflymde, and se cing ætbærst”) and in the Biographer (“Rex Scottorum nomine barbarus ... à Siwardo Duce usque ad internecionem penè suorum devictus et in obscœnam fugam est versus.” p. 416). The story in Henry of Huntingdon and Bromton, as we have seen, speaks only of a victory over Macbeth, not of his death. Fordun (v. 7) is equally clear. He quotes and rejects William of Malmesbury’s account, and tells us that Macbeth “partibus subitò relictis australibus boreales petiit, ubi terrarum angustis anfractibus et silvarum abditis tutiùs sperabat se tueri.” He adds that the Scots, unwilling to fight against Malcolm, fled at the first sound of the trumpet, quite a different picture from the hard fought fight spoken of by the English and Irish writers.

5. The distinct statement of Florence that Siward made Malcolm King (“Regem constituit”) does not seem to me to be at all contradicted by the facts that the war lingered on several years, and that Malcolm was not solemnly crowned at Scone till after the death of the competitor who succeeded Macbeth. The result of the battle doubtless was that Malcolm was acknowledged King of Scots by the English King, by at least his own English subjects in Lothian, and probably by the southern parts of Scotland proper (“partes australes” in Fordun just above). But the war still went on in the North. It is worth notice that Florence is satisfied with the practical expression of Eadward’s supremacy—“ut Rex jusserat, Regem constituit.” But Roger of Wendover (i. 493), in whose time the homage of Scotland was becoming a matter of debate, is more special and more feudal in his language. He improves the statement of Florence into “Rex regnum Scotiæ dedit Malcolmo, Cumbrorum Regis filio, de se tenendum.”

6. The remaining events of the war I have described in the text. Our accounts are very meagre, but there can, I think, be little doubt that Malcolm continued to be powerfully supported by English help under Tostig, the successor of Siward. That such was the case is distinctly affirmed by Eadward’s Biographer (416), though, as usual, he wraps his story in such a cloud of words that we cannot make out much as to time, place, or circumstance. Macbeth, the King whose barbarous name he cannot write or remember, was first (“primùm”) defeated by Siward, then by Tostig. “Secundò, ducatum agente Duce Tostino, quum eum Scotti intentatum haberet, et ob hoc in minori pretio habitum, latrocinio potiùs quam bello sæpiùs lacesserent; incertum genus hominum, silvisque potiùs quam campo, fugæ quoque magis fidens quam audaciæ virili in prælio, tam prudenti astutiâ quam virtute bellicâ et hostili expeditione, cum salute suorum prædictus Dux attrivit, ut cum Rege eorum delegerint ei Regique Ædwardo magis servire quam rebellare, id quoque per datos obsides ratum facere.” He then formally declines to go further into the matter. The meaning of the passage is by no means clear. Indeed I do not feel certain whether the Biographer has not confounded Macbeth and Malcolm. It is hard to conceive any time when Macbeth can have given hostages; Malcolm may have done so on his first appointment, or it is possible, though we have no other account of it, that Malcolm’s raid in 1061 (see p. 459) may have been avenged by a Scottish expedition on the part of Tostig. The Biographer’s authority on these matters, which he seems purposely to slight, is far from being so great as it is when he is dealing with those affairs of the Court which went on under his own eye. Still his account shows that a Scottish war of some sort or other, whether against Macbeth or against Malcolm, went on under Tostig as well as under Siward.

The sworn brotherhood again between Tostig and Malcolm (see p. 384) can hardly have any other reference than to a joint war against Macbeth. There is also a statement in Fordun (v. 8), which, though utterly confused as it stands, may probably help us to an important fact. Fordun clearly conceived Siward as continuing to wage war in Scotland after the battle of 1054, for he describes him as being summoned back by Eadward to help in the war against Gruffydd, after the destruction of Hereford in 1055 (“Hoc statim Siwardus, postquam à suo Rege per certum audierat nuncium, confestim jussus domi rediit, nequaquam ulteriùs Malcolmo ferre præsidium rediturus”). Now Siward died in 1055, before the war in Herefordshire began; but, if we read Tostig for Siward, a summons to the Welsh war is in every way probable.

Fordun, though he preserves the fact of Macbeth’s escape from the battle of 1054, confounds that battle with the battle of Lumfanan in 1058, and places them together in 1056, on December 5th (v. 7). Nevertheless he makes (v. 8) the battle to have happened at the same time as Gruffydd’s destruction of Hereford in 1055. But Siward’s battle is fixed by the English Chronicles to 1054, and the battle in which Macbeth died is equally fixed by the Irish Chronicles to 1058. So the Ulster Annals; “Macbeath filius Finnliachi, supremus Rex Albaniæ, occisus est à Malcolmo filio Donnchadi in prœlio.” (See also Robertson, i. 123; Burton, i. 373.) The successor of Macbeth is called by Fordun (v. 8) “suus [Machabei] consobrinus, nomine Lulach, cognomine Fatuus.” Tigernach calls him “Lulacus Rex Albaniæ,” and fixes his death, which was “per dolum,” to 1058. The Ulster Annals call him “Mac Gil Comgen” (see Robertson, i. 120). Mr. Burton (i. 374) calls him a son of Gruach. The coronation of Malcolm comes from Fordun (v. 9). Cf. O’Conor’s note on the Ulster Annals, Rer. Hib. Scriptt. iv. 338.

NOTE Y. p. 370.
The Mission of Ealdred and the Return of the Ætheling Eadward.

The sources of our information with regard to Bishop Ealdred’s mission to the Imperial Court curiously illustrate the occasionally deficient nature of our authorities, and the way in which one writer fills up gaps in another. The mission of Ealdred in 1054 and the return of the Ætheling in 1057 are both of them distinctly recorded in our national Chronicles. They are indeed much more than recorded; each event finds at least one Chronicler to dwell upon it with special interest. But from the Chronicles alone we should never find out that there was any connexion between the two events. The coming of the Ætheling is recorded by the Peterborough writer, and it attracts the special attention of his Worcester brother, who bursts into song on the occasion. But there is not a word in either to connect his coming with the German mission of Ealdred. About that mission the Peterborough writer is silent, just as he is silent about the Scottish war of Siward. Abingdon (1054) records Ealdred’s journey, but says only, “On þam ylcan geare ferde Ealdred biscop suð ofer sǽ into Sexlande, and wearð þær mid mycelre arwarðnesse underfangen.” From this account we might guess, but we could do no more than guess, that Ealdred went in some public character. The Worcester writer is naturally fuller on the doings of his own Bishop; still what chiefly occupies his attention is the “mickle worship” with which Ealdred was received by the Emperor, the long time that he was away, and the arrangements which he made for the discharge of his duties during his absence (see p. 372). He does indeed tell us that Ealdred went on the King’s errand; but he does not tell us what the King’s errand was, any more than he did in recording Ealdred’s earlier mission to Rome in 1049. His words are; “Ðæs ilcan geres for Aldred biscop to Colne ofer sæ, þæs kynges ærende, and wearð þær underfangen mid mycclan weorðscipe fram þam Casere, and þær he wunode wel neh an gér; and him geaf ægðer þeneste, ge se biscop on Colone and se Casere.” So William of Malmesbury (Vit. S. Wlst. Ang. Sacr. ii. 249) looks on the objects of the embassy as best summed up in the Herodotean formula εἰδὼς οὐ λέγω. Ealdred goes to the Emperor, “quædam negotia, quorum cognitionem caussa non flagitat, compositurus.” But he has much to tell us about Ealdred’s reception by the Emperor (“quum in Imperatoriæ Augustæ dignationis oculis invenisset gratiam, aliquot ibi dierum continuatione laborum suorum accepit pausam”), and still more about the presents which he received. As the biographer of Wulfstan, he could not fail to tell us about two service-books in which Wulfstan was deeply interested (see p. 462), and which Ealdred now received as a present from the Emperor. In his history he does speak of an embassy to bring about the return of the Ætheling, but he altogether misconceives the circumstances (see p. 371), he makes no mention of Ealdred, and he fancies that the embassy went direct to Hungary (“Rex Edwardus ... misit ad Regem Hunorum.” ii. 228). It is from Florence, and from Florence only, that we get a complete and accurate filling up of all our gaps. He tells us, under 1054, “Aldredus Wigorniensis Episcopus ... magnis cum xeniis Regis fungitur legatione ad Imperatorem, à quo simul et ab Herimanno Coloniensi archipræsule magno susceptus honore, ibidem per integrum annum mansit, et Regis ex parte Imperatori suggessit ut, legatis Ungariam missis, inde fratruelem suum Eadwardum, Regis videlicet Eadmundi Ferrei Lateris filium, reduceret, Angliamque venire faceret.” We now know what the King’s errand was on which Ealdred was sent, and, knowing that it was to bring back the Ætheling, we might guess for ourselves why the Ætheling was to be brought back. But Florence afterwards expressly tells us this also, under the year 1057; “Decreverat enim Rex illum post se regni hæredem constituere.”

That Ealdred had Abbot Ælfwine for his companion in this embassy (see p. 372), I infer from a remarkable entry in Domesday (208) which can have no other meaning. Land in Huntingdonshire is said to have been granted by Eadward “Sancto Benedicto de Ramesy, propter unum servitium quod Abbas Alwinus fecit ei in Saxoniâ.” I can conceive no other service in Saxony which Ælfwine could have rendered to the King, save this share in Ealdred’s mission to “Sexland.” Ælfwine’s former mission to Rheims is not to the purpose, as no geography can put Rheims in Saxony. Nor do I understand the remark of Sir Henry Ellis (i. 306), that we have here “an allusion to the Confessor’s residence abroad before he came to the throne.” What dealings had Eadward with Saxony in those days? The only difficulty is that the local historian of Ramsey, who is very full on the doings of Ælfwine, and who speaks of his going to Rheims, says nothing of his embassy to Köln. But the silence of this writer has equally to be explained on any other view of the “servitium in Saxoniâ.”

One would like to know a little more than we do about the residence of the Æthelings in Hungary, and the position which they held there. We do not know what became of their mother Ealdgyth, whether they were accompanied by any English attendants, or whether they kept up any kind of intercourse with England. Eadmund must have died young; at least this seems to be implied by William of Malmesbury (ii. 180), who says that the children reached Hungary “ubi, dum benignè aliquo tempore habiti sunt, major diem obiit.” (“Processu temporis ibidem vitam finivit,” says Florence, 1017.) But William’s ideas must have been a little confused, as he makes the Æthelings themselves go to Hungary (“Hunorum Regem petierunt”), as if they were capable of personal action, whereas it is plain that they were still mere babes.

William of Malmesbury also makes Eadward marry a sister of the Queen of the Hungarians. That is, I suppose, the meaning of his words, “Minor Agatham Reginæ sororem in matrimonium accepit.” I have not found, in such German and Hungarian writers as I have been able to refer to, any mention of Eadward’s marriage, or indeed of his sojourn in Hungary at all. But there is no doubt that the wife of Saint Stephen, who was reigning in Hungary when the Æthelings came there, and who died in 1038, was Gisla, called by the Hungarians Keisla, a sister of the Emperor Henry the Second. See Ekkehard, ap. Pertz, vi. 192. Sigebert, Chron. 1010 (ap. Pertz, vi. 354); Annalista Saxo, 1002, 1038 (Pertz, vi. 650, 682). Thwrocz, Chron. Hung. ii. 30 (Scriptt. Rer. Hung. 96). Her sister would therefore be a sister of the sainted Emperor himself, whose Imperial reign lasted from 1014 to 1024. A sister of Henry and Gisla could hardly fail to be many years older than Eadward, and we might have expected to find some record of the marriage, whereas we do not even find any sister of the Emperor Henry available for the purpose. There can be no doubt that Agatha was not a sister, but a more distant kinswoman of the Emperor, most probably a niece. The poem in the Worcester Chronicle (1057) says more vaguely, “He begeat þæs Caseres mága to wife ... seo wæs Agathes gehaten:” and so again in the later entry in 1067, “Hire [Margaret’s] modor cynn gæð to Heinrice Casere, þe hæfde anwald ofer Rome.” Florence (1017) says more distinctly, “Eadwardus Agatham, filiam germani Imperatoris Heinrici in matrimonium accepit.” Mr. Thorpe, in his note on the passage in Florence, following Suhm, makes her the daughter of the Emperor’s brother Bruno, who was Bishop of Augsburg from 1007 to 1029 (Ann. Aug. ap. Pertz, iii. 124, 125). The local Annals speak of him as “beatæ memoriæ;” but he seems to have been a turbulent Prelate, and a great thorn in the side of his Imperial brother. See Ekkehard, u. s. Arnold de Sancto Emmerammo, ii. 57 (ap. Pertz, iv. 571), Adalbold, Vit. Henr. II. c. 24 (ap. Pertz, iv. 689), Adalbert, Vit. Henr. II. 20 (ap. Pertz, iv. 805, 811). If this genealogy be correct, later English royalty is connected with the Old-Saxon stock in an unlooked for way.

Orderic has a more amazing version than all. He makes (701 D) the Ætheling marry the daughter of Solomon, and receive the Kingdom of Hungary as her dower. He distinctly calls Eadward King of the Huns; “Hæc [Margarita] nimirùm filia fuit Eduardi Regis Hunorum, qui fuit filius Edmundi cognomento Irnesidæ, fratris Eduardi Regis Anglorum, et exsul conjugem accepit cum regno filiam Salomonis Regis Hunorum.”

The delay in the arrival of the Ætheling (see pp. 373, 409) was very probably caused by the wars between the Empire and the Hungarian Kings who succeeded Stephen. Before the war with Andrew mentioned in the text, Henry the Third had an earlier Hungarian war, waged against the usurper Ouban on behalf of Peter the predecessor of Andrew, by whom Peter was blinded. See Lambert, 1041–1046. On the relations between Henry, Andrew, and Conrad of Bavaria, see Hermann Contr. 1053 (ap. Pertz, v. 133), whose account, as usual, it is not easy to reconcile with the Hungarian traditions preserved by Thwrocz. But there must be something wrong when Lappenberg (517) says, “Wahrscheinlich verzögerte die zwischen dem Kaiser und dem König Andreas von Ungarn damals ausgebrochene Fehde, sowie der Tod des Letztern, und bald darauf der des Kaisers, die Ausführung dieses Planes.” The Emperor died in 1056; but Andrew, who began to reign in 1047, did not die till 1060 or 1061, when he fell in battle against his brother Bela, three or four years after the return and death of Eadward in 1057. See Thwrocz, Rer. Hung. Scriptt. 108–112. Lambert, 1061.

NOTE Z. p. 379.
The Supposed Enmity between Harold and Tostig.

There is absolutely nothing in any trustworthy writer to lead us to believe that there was any sort of quarrel between Harold and his brother Tostig before the Northumbrian revolt in 1065. We have seen (p. 376) that Tostig’s appointment to his Earldom had, to say the least, Harold’s active concurrence, and we shall find the two brothers acting as zealous fellow-workers in the great Welsh war. Even at the time of the revolt, we shall find Harold doing all that he could to reconcile Tostig with his enemies. But the fact that the result of that revolt made Tostig an enemy of his brother seems to have taken possession of the minds of legendary writers, and a myth has grown up on this subject akin to the myths which have attached themselves to so many other parts of the history of Godwine and his house.

The earliest form of the legend seems to be that which it takes in Æthelred (X Scriptt. 394). The King and Godwine are sitting at dinner—everything seems to happen when the King and Godwine are sitting at dinner—the two boys (“pueri adhuc”) Harold and Tostig are playing before them, when suddenly the game becomes rather too rough (“amariùs quam expetebat ludi suavitas”), and the play is changed into a fight. Harold then, the stronger of the two, seizes his brother by the hair, throws him on the ground, and is well nigh throttling him, when Tostig is luckily carried off. The King turns to his father-in-law, and asks him whether he sees nothing more in all this than the sports or quarrels of two naughty boys. The unenlightened mind of the Earl can see nothing more. But the Saint takes the occasion to prophesy, and he foretells the war which would happen between the two brothers, and how the death of the one would be avenged by the death of the other.

This story is at all events well put together, and it makes a very fair piece of hagiology. It is however some objection to it that neither Harold nor Tostig could have been a mere boy at any time after Eadward’s accession. It might be too much to think that the author of the French Life saw this difficulty, but at any rate he changes the “pueri adhuc” of Æthelred into “juvenceus pruz e hardiz” (3140). Otherwise he tells the story in exactly the same way, only enlarging with a little more of Homeric precision on the details of the violence done by Harold to his brother. But the story, like other stories, soon grew, and there is another version of it, much fuller and much more impossible, which first appears in Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 761 A), and afterwards in Roger of Wendover (i. 507) and Bromton (948). The tale is now transferred to the year 1064, when Harold and Tostig were the two greatest men in the Kingdom, when Harold was probably the understood successor to the Crown, when he was at any rate in all the glory of his victories over Gruffydd. The two brothers are described as being at enmity, because, though Tostig was the elder brother, Harold was the greater personal favourite of the King “invidiæ namque et odii fomitem ministraverat, quod, quum Tosti ipse primogenitus esset, arctiùs a rege frater suus diligeretur”). I need hardly say how utterly the real position of the two brothers is here reversed. The King is dining at Windsor, where Harold acts as cup-bearer. Tostig, seeing the favour enjoyed by his brother, cannot keep himself back from pulling his hair (“non potuit cohibere manus a cæsarie fratris”). In Henry’s account Harold seems to bear the insult quite patiently, but in the version of Roger of Wendover he not unnaturally lifts Tostig up in his arms and throws him violently on the floor (“in pavimentum truculenter projecit”). On this the King’s Thegns (“milites”) rush together from all quarters, and put an end to the strife between the renowned warriors (“bellatores inclitos ab invicem diviserunt”). The King now foretells the destruction of the two brothers, but in this version he of course foretells it as something which is to happen speedily (“Rex perniciem eorum jam appropinquare prædixit, et iram Dei jam non differendam”). It is here that both Henry and Roger, and Bromton also, bring in that general complaint of the wickedness of the sons of Godwine which I have quoted elsewhere (see p. 541). Tostig now hastens to Hereford, where Harold was preparing a great feast for the King; he there kills all his brother’s servants, cuts them in pieces, mixes their blood and flesh with the wine, ale, and mead which was made ready for the feast, and sends a message to the King that he need not bring any salted meat with him, as he will find plenty of flesh ready at Hereford. On this Eadward orders Tostig into banishment.

The one faint glimmering of truth in all this seems to be that the authors of the legend were clearly aware that in 1064 the Earldom of Herefordshire was in the hands of Harold. R. Higden (Polychronicon, lib. vi. Gale, ii. 281) tells the story in nearly the same words as the earlier form, but he places it in 1056. Knighton (2333) seemingly does the same, though he copies the words of his story from the version which makes the disputants only naughty boys. M. de Bonnechose (ii. 116, 118) seems to believe the whole story, and he makes it a subject of grave political reflexions. Mr. Woodward (History of Wales, p. 214) thinks that the cannibal doings of Tostig arise from some confusion with the doings of Caradoc at Portskewet (see above, p. 480). This is possible, but the details of the story belong to the province of Comparative Mythology. They appear again in the well known Scottish legend of the Douglas Larder.

It has sometimes struck me that a good deal of this talk is due to an exaggerated misunderstanding of one or two passages in the Biographer, where his classical vein has led him into rather wild flights. The war between brother and brother—the war, of course, of Stamfordbridge—reminds him of all the ancient tales of wars and quarrels between brothers. He twice (pp. 414, 424) breaks out into verse upon the subject, and, in both cases, the Theban legend, the war of Eteoklês and Polyneikês, not unnaturally presents itself. But he also (v. 834) talks about Cain and Abel, and, by a still more unlucky allusion, about Atreus and Thyestês. Having once got hold of these names, he goes on to tell their whole story. He personifies discord between brothers, and thus apostrophizes the evil genius;

“Priscis nota satis tua sic contagia ludis.

Invidus hic prolis fraternæ fœda Thyestes

Prandia dat fratri depasto corpore nati.”

Here, it strikes me, is quite raw material enough for a legend-maker. The word “ludis” may have suggested the “pueri ludentes” in Æthelred, and I have very little doubt that the mention of Thyestês (who, by the by, is made to change parts with Atreus) suggested the cannibal preparations of Tostig at Hereford.

In several of these stories we see the pervading mistake of thinking that Tostig was the elder brother. In some of them we also see the notion, which turns up in several other quarters, that Harold was the King’s personal favourite and attendant, his “dapifer,” “pincerna,” “major domûs,” or something of the kind. It is possible that Harold in his youth, during the first year or two of Eadward’s reign, may have held some function of the kind, which may account for the tradition. (Cf. p. 78, note 3.) But the notion that Tostig was the elder brother (see above, p. 554) has led to far graver misrepresentations. The enmity of Tostig towards Harold, which really arose out of the revolt of Northumberland, gets mixed up with perverted accounts of Harold’s election to the Kingdom. Orderic (492 D) seems to have fancied that Tostig was not only the eldest son of Godwine, but that Tostig, and not Harold, succeeded his father in the West-Saxon Earldom, and that by hereditary right (“patris consulatus, quem Tosticus, quia major natu erat, longo tempore sub Eduardo rege jam tenuerat”). On Harold’s election as King, Tostig begins to reprove his brother for his usurpation and oppressions (“advertens Heraldi fratris sui prævalere facinus et regnum Angliæ variis gravari oppressionibus ægrè tulit”); Harold accordingly deprives him of his Earldom and banishes him. The strangest thing of all is that William of Malmesbury, who, in the proper place (ii. 200), gives a very fair account of the Northumbrian revolt, and one highly favourable to Harold, should afterwards (iii. 252) represent Harold as banishing Tostig after his accession. After Eadward’s death, he says “perstitit in incœpto Haroldus ut fratrem exlegaret.” Snorro (Johnstone, 192, 193. Laing, iii. 77, 78) makes Tostig the elder brother, the head Earl of the Kingdom, and the commander of the King’s armies. Harold, the youngest brother, is Eadward’s personal favourite, he is always about him, and—having seemingly supplanted Hugolin the Frenchman—has the care of all his treasures. Here again the real position of the two brothers is amusingly transposed. On Harold’s election as King, Tostig, who had himself aspired to the Crown, is much displeased, and has sharp words with his brother. Harold of course refuses to surrender the Crown, and, fearing the ability and popularity of Tostig, he deprives him of his command of the army and of his precedence over other Earls. Tostig, unwilling to be the subject of his brother, leaves the country of his own free will and goes to Flanders. Saxo (207) is one degree less wild, in so far as he realizes that Harold was the elder brother. In his version, after Harold’s election, his younger brothers generally (“minores Godovini filii majorem perosi”)—Gyrth and Leofwine no doubt as well as Tostig—envious of their brother’s election and unwilling to submit to his authority, leave the country and seek for help abroad.

It is needless to point out how, in all these versions, the chronology is altered, as well as the whole circumstances of the story, in order to represent Harold as the oppressor of his brother. But it should be remarked that these calumnies are of a wholly different kind from the calumnies which speak of an early quarrel, and that the two in effect exclude one another. In the versions of Orderic, Saxo, and Snorro, the enmity between the brothers does not begin till after Harold’s election to the Kingdom.

It may be some refreshment to wind up with the amusing version of Peter Langtoft, who, by the way, seems to have thought that Godwine was still alive in 1065. He at least has no spite against Harold; he even (p. 64 Hearne) tells the story of the murder of Gospatric, the blame of which he ventures to lay on the Lady Eadgyth (“My boke ... sais þe quene Egyn, þe blame suld scho bere”); he then goes on;

“Tostus of Cumbirland retted Godwyn þer tille.

Tostus of Cumbirland he was chefe Justise,
Ageyn þe erle Godwyn he gert sette assise.
Gospatrike’s dede on Godwyn wild he venge,

Harald souht Tostus, to leue þat ilk challenge.

He praied him for luf, in pes lat him be stille,

And kisse and be gode frende in luf and in a wille.

Tostus wild not leue, bot held on his manace,

And Harald tened withalle, of lond he did him chace.”

NOTE AA. p. 391.
Æthelstan, Bishop of Hereford.

Professor Stubbs places the consecration of Æthelstan in 1012. This seems to be the right year, because in that year we find his first signature (“Æðelstanus episcopus,” Cod. Dipl. vi. 165), as well as the last signature (Cod. Dipl. iii. 357) of his predecessor Athulf—he seems always to use this contracted form. At first sight this date seems inconsistent with a document in Cod. Dipl. iv. 234, one to which I have already referred for another purpose (p. 563), in which “Eþelstan Bisceop” is said to have bought lands in Worcestershire of Leofric—perhaps the famous Earl while still a private man in his father’s lifetime—the purchase of which was witnessed by the two Archbishops Ælfheah and Wulfstan. Now Ælfheah, taken captive in September 1011 (see vol. i. p. 385), can neither have consecrated Æthelstan in 1012 nor yet have witnessed a purchase made by him in that year. The transaction spoken of in the document must belong to an earlier time. But the document itself was not written till long after. Many years after the purchase (“æfter þysan manegum gearum”)—at some time between the accession of Cnut and the death of Ealdorman Leofwine—Wulfstan and his son Wulfric tried to disturb Æthelstan in its possession, but a compromise was come to in the Scirgemót of Worcestershire, in which Leofwine, Hakon (see p. 563), and Leofric were present.

The explanation doubtless is that, in a deed drawn up so long after, Æthelstan is spoken of by a title which belonged to him then, but which did not belong to him at the time of the purchase. As for his consecration in 1012, there seems to be no evidence as to the consecrator, but it could not have been Ælfheah.

NOTE BB. p. 416.
The Family of Leofric.

I know of no authority for any children of Leofric and Godgifu except Earl Ælfgar. It is hardly needful to refute the notion, entertained even by Sir Henry Ellis (ii. 146), that Hereward was a son of the Mercian Earl. On this score even the false Ingulf is guiltless. The mistake arose solely from a late and blundering genealogical roll, printed in the Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, ii. xii. The same roll gives Leofric a third nameless son, who was a child “tertium parvulum cujus nomen non habetur”) at the coming in of William, and was beheaded for the sake of his inheritance. Leofric died an old man in 1057; a son of his could hardly be “parvulus” in 1066. This family seems to have been picked out (see above, vol. i. p. 457) as the special sport of pedigree-makers.

Mr. C. H. Pearson (i. 367) attributes the mistake about Hereward to Sir Francis Palgrave, who is quite guiltless of it. See his History, iii. 467.

Ælfgar’s wife bore the name of Ælfgifu. She appears in Domesday in a form which clearly shows that she survived the Conquest, that she retained her lands, or parts of them, but that she was dead at the time of the Survey. In Leicestershire (231 b) there is a special heading, “Terra Alvevæ Comitissæ,” and in Suffolk (ii. 286 b) one of “Terra Matris Morchari Comitis.” But the word used is not “tenet” but “tenuit.” Cf. also Nottinghamshire, 280 b. I know not on what authority pedigree-makers affirm her to have been a Frenchwoman, sister of William Malet. If so, she must, like the Lady Emma, have changed her name at her marriage. Possibly it was a standing rule that all wives from beyond sea should take the name of Ælfgifu, as if they had come from Elfland.

Of the children of Ælfgar and Ælfgifu, their two famous or infamous sons, Eadwine and Morkere, need no mention here. The existence of a third son, Burchard (see pp. 455, 459), depends on the amount of trust which we may give to a charter preserved in the local history of Rheims, quoted by Sir Henry Ellis (i. 325); “Notum sit Algarum quemdam, Anglorum Comitem, consentiente Edwardo Anglorum Rege, Sancto Remigio villam de Lapeleiâ dedisse pro animâ filii sui Burchardi, cujus corpus in polyandrio ecclesiæ quiescit.” Lapley in Northamptonshire and other property belonged at the time of the Survey, not to “the Church of Rheims,” as Sir Henry Ellis says, but to “Saint Remigius of Rheims” (Domesday, 222 b), that is, to the Abbey. The English estate, we are told, grew into a Priory. (I do not know Lapley Priory in Northamptonshire, but there was a Priory of that name in Staffordshire, much more in Ælfgar’s own country, whose church survives.) Now the name Burchard (Burhhard?), though borne by several men T. R. E., can hardly be called a common English name. This name, and the apparent devotion of Ælfgar and his son to the Abbey of Rheims, are by no means enough to prove the foreign origin of Ælfgifu, but they certainly fall in with the tradition.

About the personality of Ealdgyth, daughter of Ælfgar, and wife successively of Gruffydd and Harold, there is no doubt. Florence mentions her incidentally under 1066, as the widow of Harold, and the sister of Eadwine and Morkere. She appears also in Domesday (238 b), where it is said of lands in Warwickshire belonging to Coventry Abbey, “Hanc terram tenuit Aldgid uxor Grifin.” At the time of the Survey it had passed from her to Osbern of Herefordshire, who had sold it to the Abbot. William of Jumièges also says (vii. 31) that Harold “Grithfridi quoque Regis Wallorum, postquam hostilis eum gladius peremit, pulcram conjugem Aldith, præclari Comitis Algari filiam, sibi uxorem junxit.” So Orderic, 492 D; “Ipse [Heraldus] Edgivam sororem eorum [Edwini et Morcari] uxorem habebat, quæ priùs Gritfridi fortissimi Regis Guallorum conjunx fuerat.” He goes on to say that she had borne two children to Gruffydd, “Blidenum regni successorem”—a confusion with Gruffydd’s brother or kinsman Blethgent—and a daughter named Nest. Benoît de Ste. More has a very curious account of Ealdgyth (Chron. Ang. Norm. i. 178);

“Après que Heraut se fu fait Reis,
Se combati od les Galeis.
N’en truis ne l’achaison ne l’ire;
Mais Reis Griffins, qui d’eus ert sire,
Remist eu champ. Heraut l’occist,
Sa femme Aldit saisi e prist,
Qui fille ert del bon conte Algar.
Celi pesa c’unc à sa char
Jut n’adesa ne nuit ne jor,
Kar dame esteit de grant valor.
De grant ire ert sis cors espris
Dunc si estert sis sire occis.
En teu manière et en teu guise
R’aveit Heraut femme conquise.”

I need not point out the mistakes here, especially the glaring one of putting Harold’s Welsh war after his election to the Kingdom. But the supposed attachment of Ealdgyth to Gruffydd rather than to Harold may be a genuine tradition, as it falls in with other indications.

Two questions here arise about Ealdgyth. Was she the “Eddeva pulcra” of Domesday? and, Was she the only daughter of Ælfgar? Sir Henry Ellis (ii. 79) argues at length that she is “Eddeva pulcra,” in opposition to Mr. Sharon Turner, who identifies that Eddeva with Eadgyth Swanneshals. There is no very distinct evidence, but I rather incline to the latter belief, which I shall have to speak of again. As for the other question, Orderic (511 B) distinctly calls Ealdgyth the only daughter of Ælfgar. But his account is very confused; he not only leaves out Burchard, but he confounds Ælfgar with his father Leofric, and makes Godgifu Ælfgar’s wife instead of his mother. His words are, “Devoti Deo dignique relligionis laude parentes elegantem et multâ laude dignam ediderunt sobolem, Eduinum, Morcarum, et unam filiam nomine Aldit, quæ primò nupsit Guitfrido Regi Guallorum, post cujus mortem sociata est Heraldo Regi Anglorum.” But the genealogy of Leofric’s family which I have already spoken of (vol. i. p. 456. See also Ellis, i. 490) gives Ælfgar a daughter Lucy, who, though unknown to Domesday, inherited the lands of the family (“obtinuit Lucia soror eorum terras paternas”), and who was married, first, in the Conqueror’s time, to Ivo Taillebois, then, in the time of Henry the First, to Roger Fitzgerald, lastly, in the time of Stephen, to Ranulf, Earl of Chester. She had a son by each of the last two husbands. The chronology is as amazing as the whole chronology of this pedigree. A woman whose father died before 1065 is made to bear a son at some time between 1135 and 1154. There was undoubtedly a Lucy, who did marry in succession Roger Fitzgerald and Earl Randolf (Ord. Vit. 871 B), and who was the mother of the Earl’s son William Randolf (an early case of a double name), and who was alive in 1141 (ib. 921 B); but I know of nothing to connect her either with Ivo Taillebois or with the house of Leofric. Lucy, as the name of an Englishwoman in the eleventh century, is as impossible as Rowena or Ulrica, unless indeed the French origin of her mother is again called in. The false Ingulf is, I need not say, great on the subject of Ivo and Lucy, and the legend is still swallowed by novelists and local antiquaries. But it is truly amazing to find Sir Francis Palgrave, who was the first to scotch the Crowland snake, in the same company (iii. 472).

Godgifu herself, the grandmother of so many of our characters, is shown to have survived the Conquest, but to have died before the Survey, by the same evidence which proves the like in the case of her daughter-in-law Ælfgifu. Her lands in Leicestershire (231 b) and Warwickshire (239 b) are entered in exactly the same form as those of the wife of Ælfgar. See also Nottinghamshire (280 b), where she appears in company, among others, with Ælfgifu and with “Goda Comitissa,” that is, her own namesake the sister of Eadward, and mother of Ralph of Hereford. But I cannot but think that some of the entries in Staffordshire (248 b, 249) refer to some other Godgifu. In the entries of which I have spoken, including one immediately following (249 b), she is called reverentially “Godeva Comitissa;” here we simply read “Godeva tenuit et libera fuit;” “Hanc tenuit Godeva etiam post adventum Regis W. in Angliam, sed recedere non potuit cum terrâ.” Surely this cannot be the widow, mother, and grandmother of successive Earls of the Mercians.

I may notice that Godgifu, Ælfgifu, and other wives of Earls, are in Domesday, as in Norman writings generally, freely called “Comitissa.” But I have not found any English equivalent for that title. “Lady” is reserved for the King’s wife; an Earl’s wife seems to be simply called the Earl’s wife and nothing else.

NOTE CC. p. 417.
Harold the Son of Ralph.

Harold the son of Ralph occurs in Domesday, 129 b, 169, 177, 244. His lands lay in the shires of Gloucester, Worcester, Warwick, and Middlesex, not, oddly enough, where we should have most naturally looked for them, in Herefordshire. In the list of Normans in Duchèsne, p. 1023, he is called Lord of Sudeley. There can however be no doubt that Ewias Harold is called after him. There is nothing to connect that place with Harold the son of Godwine. At the Survey (Domesday, 186) the castle of Ewias was held of the King by Ælfred of Marlborough. It seems to have been granted to him by William Fitz-Osbern, who had restored (“refirmaverat”) it. Its later history, and that of the descendants of Harold, I leave to local inquirers, but it is worth asking whether he was the father of the person described in the Gesta Stephani (931 B) as “Robertus, filius Heraldi, vir stemmatis ingenuissimi.” As Robert was a fighter against the Welsh, it seems not unlikely.

I assume that Harold the son of Ralph must have been a different person from Harold the Staller, who is mentioned in Domesday for Lincolnshire (337; cf. 340 b and 350 b). Ralph had possessions in that part of England (337), but, if Harold had been Ralph’s son, the connexion could hardly fail to have been mentioned there, as it is elsewhere. A mere lad also would hardly have been invested with a Stallership. There are several other Harolds distinct alike from Harold the King, Harold the Staller, and Harold the son of Ralph. Such is “Harold ... homo Eluui hiles, qui poterat ire quo volebat,” in the Domesday for Gloucestershire (170). Cf. 288 for a Harold at Warwick who kept his property under William. There are other small entries in the same name.

That Harold must have been very young when his father died is shown by the entry attached to his Middlesex property (129 b), which shows that, in 1066, he was under the wardship of the Lady Eadgyth; “Hoc manerium tenuit Heraldus filius Radulfi Comitis, quem custodiebat Regina Eddid cum manerio eâ die quâ Rex Edwardus fuit vivus et mortuus.” What follows might seem to imply that the Lady did not prove a very faithful guardian; at any rate young Harold lost the lordship; “Postea Willelmus camerarius tenuit de Reginâ in feudo pro tribus libris per annum de firmâ, et post mortem Reginæ [1074] eodem modo tenuit de Rege.”

We may perhaps infer that Harold’s mother Gytha was dead. She appears (“Gethe uxor Radulfi Comitis,” “Gueth Comitissa,” 148) as a landowner in Buckinghamshire in Eadward’s time, but she had nothing at the time of the Survey. The names Gytha and Harold probably point to a connexion by affinity, spiritual or otherwise, with the House of Godwine. Or is it conceivable that this Gytha is the same as Gytha, daughter of Osgod Clapa, and, no doubt long before this time, widow of Tofig the Proud (see vol. i. p. 591)? In any case, the names show that Ralph, with all his contempt for English tactics, had so far identified himself with England as to take a wife of English or Danish birth.

NOTE DD. p. 424.
The Quasi-Royal Position of Earl Harold.

The indications referred to in the text are all slight when taken separately; still I cannot help thinking that their cumulative force is considerable.

1. There is a charter of Ealdred in Cod. Dipl. iv. 172, in which, after the signatures, among which are those of the King and Earl Harold, we find the formula, “Cum licentiâ Eadwardi Regis et Haroldi Ducis.” In earlier charters, as those of Bishop Oswald, it is common to find the consent of the King and of the Ealdorman expressed in the body of the deed; but this is a different case, as the charter relates to matters in Worcestershire, which was not in Harold’s Earldom. Another charter of 1065 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 162), which Mr. Kemble marks as doubtful, gives Harold the title of “Dei gratiâ Dux.” The King is also “Dei gratiâ,” and the Lady is “Dei pietate;” but no such titles are given to any one else.

I ought to mention that this charter, though not marked as doubtful by Mr. Kemble, has something wrong about it which needs explanation. It is signed by Ealdred as Archbishop, which he became in 1060, and by Walter as Bishop, which he became in 1061; but it is also signed by Earl Leofric, who died in 1057. There is however no need to believe that the charter is spurious. Transcribers often added a description to a simple signature, so that a charter, as we have it, often has its witnesses described, not by the titles which they bore at the time, but by higher titles which they bore afterwards. But, even if both documents are spurious, I still think that they prove something. A forger, unless he lived very near the time, would have no temptation to invent anything in favour of Harold. He must have imitated some genuine formula.

2. Nothing can be stronger than the way in which Florence couples together the King and the Earl in describing the homage of the Welsh Princes in 1064 or 1065; “Rex ... cui et Haroldo Comiti fidelitatem illi juraverunt, et ad imperium illorum mari terrâque se fore paratos.” This reminds one of Hugh Capet and his son Robert (see vol. i. p. 269), or of any other case of joint sovereignty. This language of so discreet a writer as Florence is different from the Biographer’s rhetorical coupling of Eadward and Tostig quoted in p. 618.

3. The description of Harold as “Dux Anglorum” in the Bayeux Tapestry is well known. See vol. i. pp. 179, 289. We have indeed elsewhere come across “Algarus quidam, Comes Anglorum” (see p. 629), but the “quidam” makes a great difference.

4. Far stronger however than all is the title given to Harold by Florence when describing his election to the Crown. He is then “Subregulus Haroldus, Godwini Ducis filius.” The “Subregulus” is surely meant to be something more than the “Dux.” In fact “Subregulus,” “Undercyning,” is a title which is most familiarly given to vassal Princes, as to those who attended Eadgar at Chester (Flor. Wig. 973), and to Gruffydd himself (Chron. Ab. 1056). But I know of no instance of such a title being ever given to any mere subject except Harold, unless a parallel is sought in the strange East-Anglian titles quoted in vol. i. p. 289. But I cannot think that the description of “Half-King” was meant as a serious title.

NOTE EE. p. 430.
Harold’s Foreign Travels and Pilgrimage.

The pilgrimage of Harold to Rome, and, still more, his investigations into the political state of Gaul, are among the additions to our knowledge which we owe to the Biographer of Eadward. The latter most remarkable piece of information is wholly new; with regard to the pilgrimage, the Biographer only confirms a statement which we might otherwise have set down as doubtful.

The words of the writer of the De Inventione may be taken as implying, though not directly asserting, extensive foreign travels on the part of Harold. When speaking of the relics given by the Earl to his church at Waltham, he calls him (c. 14), “In diversis terrarum partibus non segnis conquisitor”—namely of relics and such like treasures. The romantic biographer of Harold, speaking of the same relics, distinctly asserts (p. 182) that some of them were obtained by the Earl on a pilgrimage to Rome; “Adierat quidem antea, nondum videlicet Anglorum consequutus regnum, limina Christi Apostolorum,” &c. This is the sort of point on which even so romantic a writer as Harold’s biographer was likely to preserve a bit of trustworthy tradition; still one would hardly have ventured to assert the fact on his sole authority. The Life of Eadward has now put the fact of the pilgrimage beyond doubt, and it has also shown that Harold’s journeys in other parts of the world were not wholly owing to a desire of collecting relics. This is a good illustration of the way in which truth sometimes lurks in very suspicious quarters.

The fact of the pilgrimage then is certain; at its date we can only guess. All the Chronicles, oddly enough, are silent about the pilgrimage of Harold, though that of Tostig is carefully recorded. But there are several indications which may lead us to a probable conjecture. If the Biographer of Eadward pays the least regard to chronology, Harold’s journey took place after Gyrth’s appointment to his Earldom, which we have seen reason to fix in 1057, and before Tostig’s pilgrimage, which the Worcester Chronicle fixes to 1061. If we may at all trust Harold’s biographer, which, for the nonce, it seems that we may, the journey took place before the consecration at Waltham in 1060. We have thus two years to choose from, 1058 and 1059, and two considerations will, I think, lead us to fix on the former of the two. That was the year in which Ælfgar (see p. 434) was outlawed for the second time, and almost immediately returned to his Earldom by force. Such violent doings seem to point to a time when the powers of government were relaxed, as they doubtless would be, by the absence of Harold. Again, the grant of the pallium to Stigand, who, it should be remembered, did not go for it in person, seems to point to a time when some unusually strong influence, such as the personal presence of the great Earl, could be brought to bear on the Papal mind. There is then no direct proof, but there is, I think, a strong probability, that this remarkable journey on the part of Harold took place in the year 1058.

The question of the oath I shall examine in the next volume. I will here only quote in full, without professing to understand every word of it, the passage from the Biographer (p. 410) which describes Harold’s political studies in Gaul; “At ille superior [Haroldus] mores, consilia, et vires Gallicorum principum, non tam per suos quam per se, scrutatus, astutiâ et callido animi ingenio et diuturniori cum procrastinatione intentissimè notaverat, ut in eis habitaturus esset, si eis opus haberet in alicujus negotii administratione. Adeò quoque consilio suo exhaustos pernoverat, ut nullâ ab eis relatione falli posset. Attentiùs ergo consideratâ Francorum consuetudine, quum ipse quoque apud eos non obscuri esset nominis et famæ, Romam ad confessionem Apostolorum processit.” I conceive that the general sense is what I said in the text, but the passage is most obscure, no doubt purposely obscure. To have set forth Harold’s negotiations in France in a clear light would not have suited either the position or the plan of the Biographer. Writing under William, to Eadgyth, he never mentions William’s name, or even alludes to him in any intelligible way. The words which I have put in Italics are the hardest to understand of all. Do they imply that Harold formed, or contemplated, alliances with any French Princes, say with the Count of Anjou or with the King himself, in case mutual support against William should ever be needed?

NOTE FF. p. 449.
The Quarrel between Earl Harold and Bishop Gisa.

The original account of the matters in dispute between Harold and Gisa will be found, in Gisa’s own words, in the Historiola de Primordiis Episcopatûs Somersetensis, printed in Hunter’s Ecclesiastical Documents, p. 15. Gisa’s narrative grows into a far more violent account in the local history of Wells, by a Canon of that Church in the fifteeenth century, printed in Anglia Sacra, i. 559. Lastly, we get the story with further improvements in Godwin’s Lives of the Bishops and other later works. The whole matter is well discussed, and gone into most thoroughly, by Mr. J. R. Green in the Transactions of the Somersetshire Archæological and Natural History Society, 1863–4, p. 148, a paper which has suggested several points in the present note.

That the King who made the original grant to Duduc was Cnut is plain from the words of Gisa, who speaks of them as Duduc’s private property obtained before he became Bishop (“possessiones quas hæreditario jure a rege ante episcopatum promeruerat”). Duduc became Bishop in 1033. It is difficult to understand how the Abbey of Gloucester could have formed part of the grant, or how this statement is to be reconciled with the local history of Gloucester referred to in p. 435. Gisa goes on to say that, when Harold took the other property, Gloucester was granted to Stigand (“præfatum monasterium injustâ ambitione a Rege sibi dari petiit [Stigandus] et impetratum ad horam obtinuit.” On Abbeys held by Stigand see Hist. Eliens. ii. 41, Gale 514). Gloucester therefore has no further connexion with the story, which turns wholly on the possessions in Somersetshire. These were the two lordships of Banwell and Congresbury. There were also relics, church-plate, and books. These moveable goods, we may perhaps guess, found their way to Waltham.

The grant of Duduc to the Church of Wells is described in these words; “[possessiones] roboratas cyrographis Regiæ auctoritatis ac donationis Deo Sanctoque Andreæ tempore Edwardi piissimi Regi obtulit”). Gisa then records what seems to be an oral bequest of the moveable property made by Duduc on his death-bed (“jam imminente die vocationis suæ adhibuit”). Duduc dies and is buried, and the story goes on;—“Haroldus verò, tunc temporis Dux Occidentalium Saxonum, non solùm terras invadere, verùm etiam episcopalem sedem omnibus his spoliare non timuit.” There is nothing in Gisa’s narrative to imply that Harold seized any part of the ancient possessions of the See, but only the new gifts of Duduc. Gisa then goes on to mention the poor estate in which he found his Church, the small number of the Canons, and their wide departure from the strictness of Lotharingian discipline. To help him in his schemes of reform, he begged certain lands of the King and the Lady, namely Wedmore, the scene of the famous peace between Ælfred and Guthrum (see vol. i. p. 48), and the lordships of Mark and Mudgeley in the same neighbourhood. Much about these gifts, and about other possessions and acquisitions of Gisa, will be found in the charters in Cod. Dipl. iv. 163, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 257, charters addressed to Harold, and in which the restoration of anything taken from the See is commanded. (See Mr. Green, p. 154.) But there is no mention of either Banwell or Congresbury, except in the manifestly spurious document in iv. 163, on which see especially Mr. Green’s note, p. 153. Gisa then goes on to say that he excommunicated one Alsie (Ælfsige?) who detained from the See the lordship of Winesham (see Domesday, 89 b), even after it was adjudged to the See by the Scirgemót (“judicium provincialium”). He then mentions his intention, never earned into effect, of excommunicating Harold himself (“Haroldum etiam Ducem, qui Ecclesiam mihi comissam spoliaverat, nunc secretò nunc palam correctum, pari sententiâ cogitabam ferire”). Then Harold, after his election to the Crown, promises to restore the disputed lordships and to grant others as well (“non solùm ea quæ tulerat se redditurum verum etiam ampliora spopondit daturum”). With this statement must be compared Harold’s writ in favour of Gisa in Cod. Dipl. iv. 305, where all the Bishop’s rights and possessions are confirmed to him in the strongest language, but without the mention of any particular places. Gisa then tells us how, after William’s accession, he made his complaint to the new King and obtained the restoration of Winesham. He goes on to mention his acquisition of Combe (p. 18) and other places, but he says nothing about Congresbury and Banwell, the lordships originally in dispute. But we learn their disposal from Domesday. Both are entered there as being held by Harold T. R. E. At the time of the Survey, Congresbury (Domesday, 87) was held by the King, except some portions which had been alienated to different persons, Gisa himself, possibly in his personal character, being among them. Banwell (89 b) was held by the Bishop. It is plain then that the whole controversy with Harold, as far as real property was concerned, related to these two lordships. There is nothing about any other property of the See, nothing to imply that the poverty of the Canons of which Gisa so feelingly complains was in any way caused by the Earl’s occupation of Banwell and Congresbury. The story is plainly one of disputed right to those two lordships and to the moveable goods of Duduc.

Gisa of course tells his own story in his own way. But he tells it without any special reviling of Harold. Mr. Green goes very minutely into the credibility of his story, but I do not think that he convicts the Bishop of any gross misrepresentation. We must take Gisa’s statement as we find it; we must judge as we can of his honesty and of his means of information. There is no direct confirmation and no direct contradiction of his tale. Duduc’s deed of gift does not exist; in none of the many charters of Eadward relating to Gisa’s affairs is there any mention of any quarrel between him and Harold; in fact there is no mention of the disputed lordships at all. There is no record of any appeal made by Gisa to the King, nor does he himself distinctly state that he made any. On the other hand, Gisa’s story draws some slight confirmation from the fact that Banwell does seem to have been granted to the See by William. Harold’s own charter in Cod. Dipl. iv. 305 may be taken in two ways. Its tone, as Mr. Green says, is quite friendly. It may be a mere guaranty of Gisa against Ælfsige or any other possible enemies. But I think it is more likely that Harold, at a time when it was his interest to conciliate everybody, tried to conciliate Gisa by a grant of the disputed lands, that his intention was hindered by his death, and afterwards partially carried out by William. But anyhow Gisa’s own story does not imply any fraud or violence on the part of Harold. It is simply a story of a disputed claim to certain lands and goods. The tale takes a very different shape in later writers.

Thus, in the story given by the Canon of Wells (Ang. Sacr. i. 559) we find quite another state of things. First of all, the poor estate of the Church of Wells, and the small number of its Canons, are attributed to the spoliations of Harold, an idea which Gisa’s story does not even suggest; “Hic [Giso] invenit tantùm decem [later writers seem to have read “quinque”—either of the numbers complained of as being small might startle modern legislators and modern residentiaries] canonicos in Ecclesiâ Wellensi, tam bonis mobilibus et ornamentis ecclesiasticis quam possessionibus ad ecclesiam suam spectantibus per Haroldum Comitem Cantiæ et Westsexiæ spoliatos et publicæ mendicitati subjectos”). He then records the gifts of Eadward and Eadgyth, as also Harold’s accession to the Crown, which is told in true Norman fashion. The first act of the new King is to confiscate all the possessions of Gisa and the Church of Wells (“Is statim omnes possessiones dicti Gisonis et Canonicorum Wellensis Ecclesiæ perpetim confiscavit”). His death and the Conquest of England are of course the punishment. William then restores all that Harold took, “exceptis Congresburye, Banewell et Kilmington et plurimis aliis.”

Even in this account we have wandered a good way from Gisa’s own tale. There is something amusing in the exception to William’s restoration—Congresbury and Banwell, the only places in dispute, and Kilmington and other places of which Gisa tells us nothing. William is made to restore precisely those lands of which the See had always kept undisputed possession. But there are greater things in store. In the sixteenth century it was found out that Gisa’s autobiography and Harold’s writ were both of them mistaken, and that Harold not only robbed the church of Wells, but drove its Bishop into banishment. Here is the story as told by Bishop Godwin, Catalogue of Bishops, p. 291. Gisa is consecrated at Rome—then

“At his returne, he found the estate of his Church very miserable; Harald the Queene’s brother that afterwards became for a while king of England, being yet a private man,

(Quid Domini facient, audent qui talia servi?)

upon what occasion I know not, had spoyled the Church of all ornaments, chased away the Canons, and invading all the possessions of the same, had converted them to his owne use: so that the Canons remaining which fled not for feare of this tyrant (they were onely five) they (I say) were faine to beg their bread. The Bishop complaining unto the King of this outragious havocke, found cold comfort at his hands: For, whether it were for feare of Harald’s power or his wives displeasure, he caused no restitution at all to be made. Onely the Queene was content to give of her owne, Mark and Modesly unto the Church. After the death of King Edward, Gisa was faine to fly the land, till such time as Harald the sacrilegious usurper being vanquished and slaine, William the Conqueror was a meane to restore, not only him to his place and countrey, but his Church also to all that the other had violently taken from it, except some small parcels that (I know not by what meanes) had been conveighed unto the Monastery of Glocester.”

Here we have simple romance; a later writer has attempted something like philosophy. The local historian of Somersetshire, Collinson (iii. 378), boldly connects the story of Gisa with the banishment of Godwine and the descent of Harold at Porlock. At the same time, though Harold’s conduct is pronounced to be “outrageous,” it is made out to be simply taking possession of his own goods. But the worthy antiquary shall set forth his special revelation in his own words;

“On his entry into his diocese, he found the estates of the church in a sad condition; for Harold earl of Wessex, having with his father, Godwin earl of Kent, been banished the kingdom, and deprived of all his estates in this county by King Edward, who bestowed them on the church of Wells, had in a piratical manner made a descent in these parts, raised contributions among his former tenants, spoiled the church of all its ornaments, driven away the canons, invaded their possessions, and converted them to his own use. Bishop Giso in vain expostulated with the King on this outrageous usage; but received from the Queen, who was Harold’s sister, the manors of Mark and Mudgley, as a trifling compensation for the injuries which his bishoprick had sustained. Shortly after [after 1060] Harold was restored to King Edward’s favour, and made his captain-General; upon which he in his turn procured the banishment of Giso, and when he came to the crown, resumed most of those estates of which he had been deprived. Bishop Giso continued in banishment till the death of Harold, and the advancement of the Conqueror to the throne, who in the second year of his reign restored all Harold’s estates to the church of Wells, except some small parcels which had been conveyed to the monastery of Gloucester; in lieu of which he gave the manor and advowson of Yatton, and the manor of Winsham.”

One is inclined to ask with Henry the Second (Gir. Camb. Exp. Hib. i. 40. p. 290 ed. Dimock), “Quære a rustico illo utrùm hoc somniaverit?” But these things have their use. Every instance of the growth of a legend affords practice in the art of distinguishing legend from history. And, in this special case, the difference between the popular version and the real contemporary statement may lead us to weigh somewhat carefully all charges of outrageous sacrilege, whether it is Harold, William, or any one else against whom they are brought. The lay lion constantly wants a painter, and I know not that he ever finds one, save when we have the quarrel between Godwine and Robert (see above, p. 547) described by the friendly Biographer.

On this story of Gisa’s I may make two further incidental remarks. Combe, one of the lordships added by Gisa to his see, was bought by him of Azor—“a quodam meo parochiano Arsere”—which no doubt should be Atsere—“dicto.” Its former possession by Azor is witnessed also by Domesday 89. We have seen (p. 510) that there was at least two bearers of this singular name, a name equally singular whether its owner were an Englishman or a foreigner. Others, or the same, occur in Lincolnshire (337), distinguished as “Azer f. Sualevæ,” and “Azer f. Burg.,” and in Buckinghamshire (147 b) as “Azor filius Toti.” One among these Azors certainly left three sons, who bore the foreign names of Goscelin, William, and Henry (Domesday 53 and 216 b). The last of these names, unknown in England, was equally so in Normandy, till William bestowed it on his youngest son. An “Adzurus” signs the Waltham Charter (Cod. Dipl. iv. 159) with the title of “Regis dapifer.” But the curious thing is the number of times in which we find the name of Azor connected with the buying and selling of land, both under Eadward and under William. Here Gisa buys Combe of Azor; we have already (p. 546) seen Godwine buy Woodchester of Azor. On the other hand we read in Domesday (35 b) of Azor buying lands in Surrey, “quam unus liber homo tenuit sub Rege E., sed pro quâdam necessitate suâ vendidit Azori T. R. Willelmi.” We have already seen two Azors benefactors to Westminster, and in Domesday (34) we find one of them a benefactor to the Abbey of Chertsey; “Ipsa Abbatia tenet Henlei. Azor tenuit donec obiit, et dedit Ecclesiæ pro animâ suâ, tempore Regis W., ut dicunt monachi, et inde habent brevem Regis.” In the words in Italics we see the germs of a possible controversy.

This Azor, or these Azors, though of no direct importance in history, awaken a certain interest through their incidental connexion with greater men, and it would be quite worth the while of local inquirers in the counties where their lands lay to search out any further details about them.

The other point is this. I suggested in the text (p. 450) that the estates of a foreigner dying without heirs would probably go to the King. This, if not an universal, was certainly a local custom. Among the customs of the town of Oxford (Domesday 154 b) we read, “Si quis extraneus in Oxeneford manere deligens et domum habens sine parentibus ibi vitam finierit, Rex habebat quidquid reliquerit.” “Extraneus” may possibly mean simply a “foreigner” in the sense of a non-burgess, but, if he were a non-Englishman, the case would be stronger still.

NOTE GG. p. 467.
Ælfwig Abbot of New Minster.

There is certainly something startling in the notion of a brother of Godwine and uncle of Harold, if he wished for ecclesiastical preferment at all, having to wait for it till the year 1063. But the evidence, though piecemeal, looks, at first sight, like it. That an Abbot of New Minster died at Senlac, and that his house therefore lay for a while under William’s heavy displeasure, are facts which have long been known, and which I shall have to speak of in their proper places. But one of the authorities for the statement, the Manuscript called “Destructio Monasterii de Hidâ,” printed in the Monasticon of 1682, i. 210, and in the New Monasticon, ii. 437, makes this Abbot an uncle of Harold; “Rex Haroldus habuit avunculum nomine Godwynum, Abbatem de Hydâ.” The writer then goes on to speak of the Abbot joining his nephew’s muster at the battle. It would not do to press the word “avunculus” in its classical sense, and to make the Abbot a brother of Gytha. The purely English name Godwine was most unlikely to be borne by a son of Thorgils Sprakaleg. “Avunculus” must be taken in the sense of “patruus,” and the difficulty of Godwine having a brother bearing his own name is taken away when, from another local manuscript, referred to, though not fully printed in the Monasticon, ii. 428, we find that the Abbot’s real name was not Godwine, but Ælfwig. I have to thank Mr. Edwards, the Editor of the Liber de Hydâ, for the following extract from the manuscript Annales de Hydâ. The list of Abbots of New Minster, during the time with which I am concerned, stands thus;

“1021. Alnothus.

1035. Alwyus.

1057. Alfnotus.

1063. Alwyus, frater Godwyni Comitis.

1066. Alwyus occiditur, et vacavit hæc ecclesia ii. annis.” Cf. Edwards, Liber de Hydâ, p. xxxvii.

Here we plainly have Ælfwig, brother of Earl Godwine, appointed Abbot in 1063. The writer of the “Destructio” probably meant to write something like “avunculum, nomine Alwynum, fratrem Comitis Godwyni,” and the two similar endings got jumbled together. There is another case in which the name Godwine has been written instead of another name in Domesday (146), where a Thegn is described as “homo Goduini cilt Abbatis Westmonasteriensis,” meaning of course Abbot Eadwine (see p. 509). But here another question arises. The alternation of the names Ælfnoth and Ælfwig in the list of Abbots suggests the conjecture that we have here a case of a man—or rather two men—resigning his office and taking it again. We have seen other examples in the case of Archbishop Eadsige (pp. 68, 113) and of Bishop Hermann (pp. 405, 406). If so, Ælfwig was first appointed in 1035, a much more likely time for the first promotion of a brother of Godwine than 1063. But, on the other hand, the fact that only the second entry of the name “Alwyus” has the addition “frater Godwyni Comitis,” may be taken as distinguishing the Ælfwig of 1063 from the Ælfwig of 1035. Taken alone it certainly looks that way, but it is hardly conclusive. This point I do not undertake to decide; but I think we have quite evidence enough for the existence of an Ælfwig, Abbot of New Minster, uncle of King Harold and dying by his side.

If the “Annales” did not distinctly call him “frater Godwyni Comitis,” I should have been tempted to identify this Abbot Ælfwig, uncle of Harold, with the Ælfric, kinsman of Godwine, who was elected to the see of Canterbury in 1050 (see p. 119). The word “avunculus” is sometimes used rather laxly, and it might perhaps mean what is sometimes called a “Welsh uncle,” that is the first cousin of a parent. Moreover the Biographer now and then stumbles in his English names, as when he calls Leofwine, Leofric. But the description of Ælfwig as Godwine’s brother seems to exclude this. And if the two Ælfwigs are the same, it is impossible, as, in 1050, Ælfwig would be Abbot of New Minster, when Ælfric was a monk of Christ Church. Still one would like, if one could, to find a career for a man of whom all that we know is that he once came so near to eminence as the Ælfric of 1050.

NOTE HH. p. 482.
The Revolt of Northumberland.

With regard to the events which led to the banishment of Tostig, we have to make the same sort of comparison of authorities which we made in describing the banishment and the return of Godwine. Our fullest accounts are found in the Worcester Chronicle, in Florence, and in the Life of Eadward. Some further details are supplied by the Abingdon and Peterborough Chronicles and by William of Malmesbury. As usual, the Chroniclers look on the matter from the point of view of the nation, the Biographer looks on it from the point of view of the Court. Each therefore, as in other cases, fills up gaps in the other. We must also remember that the Biographer lies under the necessity of making out as fair a case as he can for Eadward, Harold, and Tostig all at once. But, writing as he did to Eadgyth, his chief object was to say all that could be said on behalf of Tostig. It is in the Life then that we must look for the fullest account of the doings and feelings of Eadward and Tostig, while the Chroniclers give us the fullest account of the doings of the Northumbrian people. Florence seems to have given special attention to the early part of the story, and he has, as in some other cases, preserved the names of individual actors who are not mentioned elsewhere. William of Malmesbury, as he has often done before, helps us to reports of speeches, either traditionally remembered or which he himself thought were in character. Even in this latter aspect, these speeches are worthy of attention, as they never take those rhetorical and other impossible shapes which are often taken by the harangues in Orderic and elsewhere.

The first point where the different narratives show their peculiar characters in such a shape as to amount to a contradiction, is found with regard to the whereabouts of Tostig at the time of the revolt. The Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles do not say where he was; William of Malmesbury (ii. 200), probably writing with the Peterborough Chronicle before him, fancied that Tostig was at York, or at least somewhere in Northumberland, and he seemingly mistook the force of the word “utlagodon,” as he expands it into “solitarium repertum ex regione fugârunt, pro contuitu ducatûs occidendum non arbitrati.” But the Abingdon Chronicler, writing within the bounds of Wessex, mentions the name of a place which was more likely to be known to him than to his Mercian brethren; “Tostig wæs þa æt Brytfordan mid þam kinge.” The Biographer, still more accurately, quarters them (422) in some of the forests of the neighbourhood, whence they afterwards go to Bretford to hold the Gemót.

With regard to the doings of the rebel Gemót of York, Florence distinguishes the acts of the two days more accurately than any of the Chroniclers. He alone distinguishes the executions, unjust or otherwise, of Amund and Reavenswart on the Monday, from the mere massacre of Tuesday. The Chroniclers run the events of both days together. In the words of Peterborough and Worcester, the Northumbrians “utlagodon heora eorl Tostig and ofslogon his hiredmenn [“huskarlas” in Abingdon] ealle þa hi mihton to cuman, ægðer ge Englisce ge Dænisce.” Florence, after describing the death of the two officers, goes on, “die sequenti plus quam cc. viros ex curialibus [hiredmenn] illius in boreali parte Humbræ fluminis [“Humbra” must mean the Ouse] peremerunt.” Then follows the plundering of the treasury, which is much the same in all accounts. But the Biographer naturally waxes more indignant and rhetorical in his description of the massacre. Men, he tells us (421), took the opportunity to slay their private enemies “nullus ergo modus fit in occasione; rapitur hic et ille ad necem etiam pro familiari odio cujusque”). That the movement extended beyond Northumberland is not implied either by the Abingdon Chronicler or by Florence, whose story at this point becomes rather meagre, but it comes out in the Worcester and Peterborough Chroniclers, as also in the Biographer, though in two very different shapes. From the two Chroniclers we learn the adhesion of the shires of Nottingham, Derby, and Lincoln to the rebel cause, but it is only the Biographer who asserts a massacre anywhere but at York. “Fit cædes,” he says, “multorum in Eboracâ, vel Lincolniâ civitate, in plateis, in aquis, in silvis, et in viis.” Every one who had been at anytime in Tostig’s service (“quicumque poterat notari quod de ejus aliquando fuerit curiâ”) was everywhere put to death without mercy. This all may be or may not be, but though we can quite understand that the men of the Danish shires of Mercia might sympathize with their Northumbrian brethren, one can hardly fancy that many of Tostig’s Housecarls would be found at Lincoln.

But the most important difference between our several accounts is to be found in the different statements as to the place where the negotiations took place between the King and the rebels. The Chroniclers of course give the fullest accounts of the doings of the insurgents, while the Biographer enlarges most fully on the counsels of the King. To judge from him only (422), we should think that all the negotiations took place at Oxford (“Axonevorde oppidum”), while from the Worcester and Peterborough Chroniclers, it would seem that all took place at Northampton. But the Abingdon Chronicler, followed by Florence, distinguishes between two assemblies, one at each place (“and þa wel raðe þaræfter wæs mycel gemot æt Norðhamtune, and swa æt Oxenaforda”). The Biographer sets forth the various messages which were sent by the King, and he naturally thinks chiefly of the place where the matter was finally settled, namely at Oxford. The minds of the two Mercian Chroniclers were no less naturally fixed on Northampton and the ravages which happened in its neighbourhood. Nothing is more likely than that, while messages were passing to and fro, the Northumbrian host should advance, and take up their head-quarters at Oxford instead of at Northampton. I therefore accept the Abingdon account, and hold that the final Gemót on the feast of Saint Simon and Saint Jude was held at Oxford.

The repeated messages which passed between the King and the rebels seem implied in the words of the Abingdon Chronicler, who recognizes the gathering at Northampton as well as that at Oxford as a “mycel gemót.” The Biographer is still more express; “Rex Eadwardus, vir Deo dignus, putans indomitum vulgus solitâ sedare sapientiâ, pia per legatos illis mittit mandamina, ut scilicet quiescerent ab inceptâ dementiâ et jus legemque reciperent de omni quam in eum demonstrare possent injuriâ” (see pp. 491, 136). Then comes the answer of the rebels, then come further messages from the King (“Quum benignissimus rex item et tertiò missis legationibus eos ab insanâ intentione diverso conciliorum conatu amovere tentaret, nec perficeret”); the King then goes from the woods to Bretford (“a silvestribus locis ubi more suo caussâ assiduæ venationis morabatur, secessit ad Brethevorde regium vicum oppidoque regio Wiltuni proximum”), and there holds the council at which the royal answer to the rebels is finally determined on. The Biographer does not mention Harold personally, but all the Chroniclers and Florence describe him as being at the head of the embassy. The answer of the rebels is given “Haroldo West-Saxonum Duci et aliis quos Rex Tostii rogatu pro pace redintegrandâ ad eos miserat.” William of Malmesbury alone makes Harold go with an army “ut propulsaret injuriam.” This is probably a confusion with Eadward’s later anxiety to send a military force against the rebels. Harold would doubtless take some Housecarls with him for safety’s sake; but what he headed was clearly an embassy and not a military expedition.

In the answer sent by the insurgents to the King, I have followed William of Malmesbury, as the sentiments which he puts into their mouths so exactly suit the circumstances of the case. When he begins “Northanhimbri, licet non inferiores numero essent, tamen quieti consulentes,” he is to some extent led away by his notion of Harold having come with an army, but the matter of the answer is thoroughly in character; “Factum apud eum excusant; se homines liberè natos, liberè educatos, nullius Ducis ferociam pati posse, a majoribus didicisse aut libertatem aut mortem.” The Biographer evidently colours in the opposite direction; at the same time the conditional threat of war made by the rebels sounds authentic; “Deo itaque Regique suo rebelles, spretâ pietatis legatione, remandant Regi, aut eumdem Ducem suum citiùs à se et à toto Angliæ Regno amitteret, aut eos in commune hostes hostis ipse haberet.” The Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles give the matter of the message in the simplest and most neutral form; but it is from them that we learn that the answer was carried by messengers from the rebel camp who came to the King’s Court in company with Harold; “Hi lægdon ærende on hine [Harold] to þam cynge Eadwarde, and eac ærendracan mid him sendon, and bædon þat hi moston habban Morkere heom to Eorle.” The description of the Council in which this answer was discussed comes wholly from the Biographer, and, as it is just the sort of point on which he is always well informed, I have simply followed his narrative in my text. The Chroniclers give the result only; “and se cynge þæs geuðe, and sende eft Harold heom to Hamtune.” The efforts of Harold to reconcile all parties come out strongly in the Abingdon Chronicle; “Harold Eorl wolde heora seht wyrcan, gif he mihte; ac he na mihte.” Florence gives him several companions in this attempt; “Dum Haroldus et alii quamplures Comitem Tostium cum iis pacificare vellent, omnes unanimi consensu contradixerunt.” Harold’s conduct in finally yielding to the demands of the rebels is pointedly approved by William of Malmesbury; “Hæc Haroldus audiens, qui magis quietem patriæ quam fratris commodum attenderet, revocavit exercitum.” Here we again have William’s former mistake about Harold’s coming with an army. The description of Eadward’s state of mind, his anxiety to make war, his complaints and the cause of his final illness, all come from the Biographer only; but William of Malmesbury in another part of his work (iii. 252) gives a remarkable picture nearly to the same effect, which I have quoted in p. 495, note 4.

That the outlawry of Tostig and his accomplices was the act of a formal Gemót comes out most strongly in the Abingdon Chronicle, where, as in some former cases, the words of the formal decree seem to peep out; “And eall his Eorldom hyne anrædlice forsóc and geutlagode and ealle þa mid hym þe unlage rærdon, forþam þe he rypte God ærost, and ealle þa bestrypte þe he ofer mihte, æt life and æt hande. And hig namon heom þa Morkere to Eorle.” The same formal character of the meeting is implied in the renewal of Cnut’s Law on which I have enlarged in the text. In the rhetoric of the Biographer all this is lost.

With regard to the actual departure of Tostig from England, Florence alone seems to depart from his usual guide at Abingdon, and to assert an expulsion by force. I have already, in p. 500, quoted the passages which bear upon the matter.

One word more as to the answer of the Northumbrians. M. Emile de Bonnechose (ii. 118), following what edition of William of Malmesbury I know not, for “nullius Ducis ferociam,” reads “nullius Daci,” and on that reading thus comments; “La dénomination de danois [Dacus], donnée ici à Tosti, fils de Godwin et de Githa, sœur du roi de Danemark, est digne d’attention. Cette citation du moine de Malmesbury, suffirait pour ébranler le système selon lequel Godwin et sa famille auraient été toujours considérés comme les représentants d’un parti national, également hostile aux Danois et aux Normands.” It is a strong measure to reverse the whole history of a period simply because M. de Bonnechose has somehow read “Daci” instead of “Ducis,” but the real expression of William of Malmesbury is a very remarkable one. The protestation of the Northumbrians, “se nullius Ducis ferociam pati posse,” sounds very like a wish for a King of the Northumbrians instead of an Earl.

The expression in the text (p. 497) “between the Thames and the Tweed” must be corrected by the minuter inquiries into the extent of the Earldoms in p. 566 and elsewhere. It is most likely that, after the death of Ælfgar, the Mercian Earldom nowhere reached so far south as the Thames.

1. Among our authorities for this period the English Chronicles of course still retain their preeminent place, and the differences, especially the marked differences in political feeling, between the various versions become of constantly increasing importance. Florence also, always valuable, now increases in value. His narrative is still grounded on that of the Chronicles, but he gradually ceases to be a mere copyist. It is always of moment to see which of the several versions he follows; and, as he draws nearer his own time, he gradually acquires the character of a distinct authority. He can however hardly be looked on as such during the period embraced in this Chapter. The contemporary Biographer of Eadward now becomes of the greatest value in his own special department. For all matters which are strictly personal to the King, the Lady, and the whole family of Godwine, his authority is primary. He is however very distinctly not an historian, but a biographer, sometimes a laureate. In his narrative there are many omissions and some inaccuracies; his value lies mainly in his vivid personal portraits of the great men of the time, with all of whom he seems to have been personally acquainted. It must be borne in mind that his book, dedicated to the Lady Eadgyth, is to a great extent a panegyric on her family. Still it is highly important to have this description of them from the English side to set against the dominant Norman calumnies. It is to the Chronicles as harmonized by Florence that we must go for our main facts; the Biographer gives us their personal aspect, their personal colouring, and many personal details. Just as the Encomiast of Eadgyth becomes of so much value, we lose the Encomiast of Emma, who ends his narrative with the accession of Harthacnut. The purely Norman writers now gain in importance. But, as regards purely English affairs, their importance is of this peculiar kind, that, after reading the English account of any fact, it is needful to turn and see what is the Norman perversion of it. At the head of the class stands William of Poitiers, Archdeacon of Lisieux, the chaplain and biographer of William the Conqueror. His work, unluckily imperfect, is our primary authority for all that concerns his hero; but allowance must be made throughout for his constant flattery of his own master and his frantic hatred towards Godwine and Harold. The later Norman writers, William of Jumièges and his continuator, and the poetical chroniclers, Robert Wace and Benoît de Sainte-More, are of use as witnessing to Norman tradition, but they do not yet assume that special value which belongs to William of Jumièges and Wace at a somewhat later time. The subsidiary English writers, and the occasional notices to be found in the works of foreign historians, retain the same secondary value as before. Indeed, as Scandinavian affairs are of great importance during several years of this period, the Sagas of Magnus and Harold Hardrada may be looked upon as of something more than secondary value. Among the secondary English writers, Henry of Huntingdon diminishes in importance, as he gets more out of the reach of those ancient ballads and traditions which it is his great merit to have preserved. On the other hand, the value of William of Malmesbury increases, as he draws nearer to his own time. He often sets before us two versions of a story, and makes an attempt at a critical comparison of them. But his prejudices are distinctly Norman, and his utter lack of arrangement, his habit of dragging in the most irrelevant tales at the most important points of his narrative, makes him one of the most perplexing of writers to consult.

2. See vol. i. p. 589.

3. On the different statements, see Appendix A.

4. Chronn. and Flor. Wig. 1043.

5. Vol. i. p. 560.

6. See vol. i. p. 396.

7. Vol. i. p. 592.

8. As at the election of Eadmund Ironside, vol. i. p. 419. So, after the fall of Harold the son of Godwine, the citizens of London were foremost in choosing the young Eadgar King. Fl. Wig. 1066. The expression of “all folk,” and the extreme haste at a time when the Witan seem not to have been sitting, point to an election of this kind, forestalling the next ordinary Gemót.

9. Vol. i. p. 404.

10. Vol. i. p. 568.

11. Lyfing’s share in the business comes from Florence; “Eadwardus, annitentibus maxime Comite Godwino et Wigornensi Præsule Livingo, Lundoniæ levatur in Regem.”

12. This contrast is not directly stated, but it seems implied in the reference to the age and experience of Eadward.

13. Will. Malms. ii. 196. “Jure ei competere regnum, ævi maturo, laboribus defæcato, scienti administrare principatum per ætatem severè, miserias provincialium [Harthacnut’s Danegeld?] pro pristinâ egestate temperare.”

14. Ib. “Quo se pronior inclinaverit, eo fortunam vergere; si auxilietur, neminem ausurum obstrepere, et è converso.”

15. Vita Eadw. 394. “Quoniam pro patre ab omnibus habebatur, in paterno consultu libenter audiebatur.” Will. Malms. ii. 197. “Quidam auctoritatem ejus secuti.”

16. Will. Malms. u. s. “Quidam muneribus flexi.”

17. See vol. i. p. 591.

18. Adam Brem. ii. 74. See Appendix A.

19. See below under the years 1045 and 1047.

20. Will. Malms. ii. 197. “Et hinc censoriè notati et postmodum ab Angliâ expulsi.”

21. Thierry, i. 180. St. John, ii. 132.

22. Henry of Huntingdon indeed (M. H. B. 759 A) hints at a suspicion of Eadward’s Normannizing tendencies, when he makes the English embassy stipulate that he shall bring the smallest possible number of Normans with him (“quod paucissimos Normannorum secum adduceret”). But Henry’s narrative just here is so very wild that it is not safe to rely on his authority.

23. See vol. i. p. 117.

24. Chron. Petrib. 1041. “Eall folc geceas Eadward to cynge on Lundene; healde þa hwile þe him God unne.” (Cf. Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 759 A. “Electus est in Regem ab omni populo.”) This prayer is the opposite to that of Antinoos, Od. i. 386:—

μή σέ γ’ ἐν ἀμφιάλῳ Ἰθάκῃ βασιλῆα Κρονίων
ποιήσείεv, ὅ τoι γενεῇ πατρώϊόν ἐστι.

See Gladstone, Homer, iii. 51.

25. Chron. Ab. 1042. “Eall folc underfeng ða Eadward to cinge, swa him gecynde wæs.” “Right of birth” does not very well express “gecynde,” but I do not see how better to translate it. The word occurs again in Chron. Wig. 1066, as applied to young Eadgar. It will be remembered that the Abingdon Chronicle is the only one which charges Godwine with a share in the death of Ælfred. See vol. i. pp. 545, 546. The Biographer (p. 396) speaks of Eadward as reigning “ex Dei gratiâ et hæreditario jure.” This is of course a courtier’s view. “Hæreditario jure” must here mean a right derived from ancestors, not a right to be handed on to descendants, as must be the meaning of the words in the Waltham Charter, Cod. Dipl. iv. 154.

26. Chron. Wig. 1042. “Eall folc geceas þa Eadward, and underfengon hine to kyninge, eallswa him wel gecynde wæs.” This expression is the exact counterpart of that of Rudolf Glaber describing the election of Lewis in 946. See vol. i. p. 224.

27. With the expressions used about the succession of Eadward compare the still stronger expressions used by Florence about the succession of Eadred in 946; “Proximus hæres Edredus, fratri succedens, regnum naturale [gecynde] suscepit.” Yet Eadmund left two sons, both of whom afterwards reigned.

28. Chron. Flor. Wig. See Appendix A.

29. Flor. Wig.

30. Chron. Ab. and Petrib. “Eadsige arcebisceop hine halgade, and toforan eallum þam folce wel lærde, and to his agenre neode and ealles folces wel manude.” So Will. Malms. ii. 197; “Ab Edsio archiepiscopo sacra regnandi præcepta edoctus, quæ ille tunc memoriâ libenter recondidit, et postea sanctè factis propalavit.”

31. At Githslep, now Islip, in Oxfordshire. Cod. Dipl. iv. 215.

32. Vita Eadw. 395.

33. Vita Eadw. 395. “Primus ipse Romanorum Imperator Heinricus,” &c. But Henry was not crowned Emperor till 1047. Hermannus Contractus in anno.

34. On the marriage of Henry and Gunhild, see vol. i. pp. 505, 559.

35. Vita Eadw. 395. “Munera imperiali liberalitate exhibenda mittit, et quæ tantos decebat terrarum dominos.” Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 375), who seems here to copy the Biographer, says the same.

36. Vita Eadw. 395. “Rex quoque Francorum item Heinricus nomine.”

37. Ib. “Ejusdem Anglorum Regis vicinâ carnis propinquitate consanguineus.” The Biographer throughout makes the most of his hero, but there is a marked difference in his tone towards the German King and towards any other prince. The expression “terrarum domini,” reserved for the lords of the continental and the insular Empires, is most remarkable. I am at a loss to see what kindred there was between Eadward and Henry of Paris.

38. Vita Eadw. 395. “Ceteri quoque eorumdem Regum tyranni [a very singular expression] et quique potentissimi duces et principes, legatis suis eum adeunt, amicum et dominum sibi suisque constituunt, eique fidelitatem et servitium suum in manus ponunt.” Is this merely the flourish of an English Dudo (cf. the talk about Cnut, vol. i. p. 504), or did any foreign princes really plight a formal homage to Eadward in exchange for his gifts and favours? In the later feudalism such a relation would not be impossible.

39. See vol. i. p. 566. For the submission of Denmark to Magnus, see Adam of Bremen, ii. 74, 75. Snorro, Saga of Magnus, c. 19 (Laing, ii. 377). Adam however represents Magnus’ first occupation of Denmark as the result of several battles with Swend, while Snorro makes Magnus be peacefully elected in a Thing at Viborg, after which he makes Swend an Earl and leaves him as his representative in Denmark.

40. Vita Eadw. 395. “Patrem eum sibi eligit, seque ut filium illi in omnibus subjicit.” Compare the famous form of the Commendation of Wales and Scotland to a greater Eadward, vol. i. pp. 60, 129. The monastic biographer of Eadward gives quite another picture, by way of preparation for his legendary account of the death of Magnus; “Sola tamen Dacia, adhuc spirans et anhelans cædes, Anglorum interitum minabatur, verum quis fuerit tanti conatûs finis sequentia declarabunt.” Æthel. Riev. X Scriptt. 375.

41. Vita Eadw. 395. “Mittuntur singulis pro celsitudine suâ ab ipso Rege regalia munera, quæ ut nullius quamlibet multiplex Regis vel principis umquam æquaret munificentia, Regum pulcherrimus et nobilissimus Anglorum Rex Ædwardus facit eisdem Francorum principibus vel annua vel continua.” The money seems all to go to France, none to Germany or Denmark.

42. Vita Eadw. 397.

“Multa dedere quidem, verum supereminet omnes

Larga Ducis probitas Godwini munere talis [tali?].”

The Biographer here, as often, breaks forth into hexameters.

43. Mr. Luard seems to think this ship a mere repetition of the ship given to Harthacnut. Why?

44. Vita Eadw. 397.

“Aureus è puppi leo prominet; æquora proræ

Celsæ pennato perterret corpore draco

Aureus, et linguis flammam vomit ore trisulcis.”

Were the dragon and the lion thus coupled to express Eadward’s mixed origin, English and Norman?

45. Ib.

“Nobilis appensum pretiatur purpura velum,
Quo patrum series depicta docet varias res,
Bellaque nobilium turbata per æquora Regum.”

For instances of historical tapestry see vol. i. p. 303.

46. See vol. i. p. 307.

47. On the legendary history of Eadward see Appendix B.

48. See vol. i. pp. 288, 365.

49. See vol. i. pp. 244, 462.

50. See Appendix B.

51. His monastic biographer (Æth. Riev. X Scriptt. 388) says by way of praise, “Cuncta regni negotia Ducibus proceribusque [to Earl Harold and the Witan] committens, totum se divinis mancipat obsequiis. Quantò autem se corporalibus subtrahebat, tantò luminosius se spiritalibus indidit theoriis.”

52. See vol. i. p. 327.

53. Vita Eadw. 396. “Si ratio aliquem suscitaret animi motum, leonini videbatur terroris, iram tamen non prodebat jurgiis.” We shall presently come across a ludicrous example of his “nobilis ira,” venting itself in an oath. Possibly the reference may partly be to his abstinence, like that of Saint Lewis, from the French, and generally southern, vice of reviling God and the Saints. See Joinville, p. 120 ed. Du Cange, 1668; p. 217 ed. Michel, 1858.

54. I allude to his wish, frustrated by Godwine, to subject Dover to military chastisement (Chron. Petrib. 1048. Cf. the dealings of the Emperor Theodosius with Thessalonica and Antioch), and his wish, frustrated by Harold, to wage war with the Northumbrians on behalf of Tostig in 1065. Vita Eadw. 423.

55. See vol. i. pp. 328, 330, 383, 635.

56. Vita Eadw. 414. “Benignissimus Rex Ædwardus ... plurimum temporis exigebat circa saltus et silvas in venationum jocunditate. Divinis enim expeditus officiis, quibus libenter quotidianâ intendebat devotione, jocundabatur plurimum coram se allatis accipitribus vel hujus generis avibus, vel certè delectabatur applausibus multorum motuum canibus. His et talibus interdum deducebat diem, et in his tantummodo ex naturâ videbatur aliquam mundi captare delectationem.” So William of Malmesbury (ii. 220), in a passage which, like several others, makes one think that he had this Life of Eadward before him. “Unum erat quo in sæculo animum oblectaret suum, cursus canum velocium, quorum circa saltus latratibus solebat lætus applaudere; volatus volucrum quorum natura est de cognatis avibus prædas agere. Ad hæc exercitia continuis diebus, post audita manè divina officia, intendebat.” He retained these tastes to the last. In 1065 Harold built a house at Portskewet as a hunting-seat for the King. Chronn. Ab. and Wig., and Flor. Wig. in anno.

57. For these two beautiful stories of Saint Anselm, see his Life by John of Salisbury, Anglia Sacra, ii. 165.

58. It is not clear whether Eadward did not take the same delight as Queen Elizabeth in another form of animal torture. There is something suspicious in part of the royal dues paid by the city of Norwich, “ursum et sex canes ad ursum [a very business-like phrase].” Domesday, ii. 117. Cf. Will. Fitz-Stephen, Giles, i. 180.

59. Will. Malms. ii. 196. “Dum quâdam vice venatum isset, et agrestis quidam stabulata illa quibus in casses cervi urgentur confudisset, ille suâ nobili percitus irâ, ‘Per Deum’ inquit ‘et Matrem ejus, tantumdem tibi nocebo si potero.’” William’s whole comment is very curious. This story has been made good use of by Lord Lytton, in his romance of “Harold,” which, if the sentimental and supernatural parts be struck out, forms a narrative more accurate than most so-called histories of the time. For a somewhat similar tale see Motley, United Netherlands, iii. 172.

60. Vita Eadw. 396. “Hominis persona erat decentissima, discretæ proceritatis, capillis et barbâ canitie insignis lacteâ, facie plenâ et cute roseâ, manibus macris et niveis, longis quoque interlucentibus digitis, reliquo corpore toto integer et regius homo.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 220) seems again to copy the Biographer; “Erat discretæ proceritatis, barbâ et capillis cygneus, facie roseus, toto corpore lacteus, membrorum habitudine commodâ peridoneus.” Eadward was seemingly an albino.

61. In the Bayeux Tapestry Eadward and one or two others are represented with long beards. William and Harold, and the mass of their respective countrymen, are represented according to the later fashions described in the text.

62. Vita Eadw. 396. “Cunctis poscentibus aut benignè daret aut benignè negaret, ita et ut benigna negatio plurima videretur largitio.”

63. Ib. 415. So Will. Malms. ii. 220.

64. Ib. 396. “In frequentiâ verè se Regem et dominum, in privato, salvâ quidem regiâ majestate, agebat se suis ut consocium.”

65. Vita Eadw. 415. “Inter ipsa divinorum mysteriorum et missarum sacrosancta officia agninâ mansuetudine stabat, et mente tranquillâ cunctis fidelibus spectabilis Christicola, inter quæ, nisi interpellaretur, rarissimè cui loquebatur.” Compare the opposite description given of Henry the Second, who always talked of public affairs during mass (Gir. Camb. Exp. Hib. i. 46. p. 305 Dimock), and the curious story of his holding a discourse at such a moment with Saint Thomas of Canterbury himself, as told by Roger of Pontigny (Giles, i. 132). It is however somewhat differently told by William Fitz-Stephen (ib. i. 218). See Gentleman’s Magazine, April, 1860, p. 386.

The Ayenbite of Inwyt (p. 20 ed. Morris) reproves this practice as a common fault. “And huanne þe ssoldest yhere his messe oþer his sermon at cherche, þou iangledest and bourdedest to-vor God.”

66. Vita Eadw. 414. “Abbates religiosos et monachos, potissimum autem transmarinos ... quam benignè susceperit.” So Will. Malms. 220; “Pauperibus hospitibusque, maximè transmarinis et religiosis, benignus appellando, munificus dando.” See Appendix C.

67. Vit. Eadw. 399. “Quum prædictus sanctæ memoriæ Ædwardus Rex repatriaret à Franciâ, ex eâdem gente comitati sunt quamplures non ignobiles viri, quos plurimis honoribus ditatos secum retinuit idem Rex, utpote compos totius regni, ordinariosque constituit secretorum consilii sui, et rectores rerum regalis palatii.” It is remarkable how seldom, especially in the early part of Eadward’s reign, the foreigners appear to sign charters. They were doubtless jealously watched.

68. Vol. i. p. 584.

69. Vol. i. p. 593.

70. See above, p. 15.

71. Will. Malms. ii. 197. See Appendix D.

72. See above, p. 9.

73. See vol. i. p. 471. The French biographer of Eadward says (p. 57):—

“Godwin k’out mis entente
Cunquere tresor e rente,
Mut fu garniz e estorez
D’or e de argent dunt out asez,
Ke par plaiz e par achatz
De grant aver out fait purchaz;
Mut out cunquis par boesdie
Plus ke par chivalerie.”

74. See Appendix E.

75. A Godwine appears (W. Thorn. X Scriptt. 2224) as a benefactor of Christ Church, Canterbury. This may be the great Earl, or it may be the Godwine whose marriage settlement we have in Cod. Dipl. iv. 10.

76. This comes out nowhere more emphatically than in the comparatively hostile Abingdon Chronicle, 1052.

77. Vita Eadw. 408. cf. Fl. Wig. 1066.

78. See the Peterborough Chronicler’s character of William, under the year 1087.

79. Ib. 1135.

80. Will. Malms. iv. 314.

81. Ord. Vit. 672 B.

82. Vit. Eadw. 408.

83. Fl. Wig. 1048, 1049.

84. “When the chronicler praises the gift of speech, he unconsciously proves the existence of constitutional freedom.” Lytton, Harold, i. 165.

85. I attribute the Danish names in Godwine’s family to the influence of Gytha rather than to any Danish tastes prevalent at the Court of Cnut, because the Danes settled in England seem to have so often adopted English names for their children. See vol. i. pp. 580, 591.

86. I should perhaps have done better had I used the English form of this name throughout, as Swegen is clearly more correct etymologically than Svein, Sven, or Swend. It may however be convenient to distinguish the English and Danish bearers of the name.

87. On the sons and daughters of Godwine, see Appendix F.

88. Cod. Dipl. iv. 74. This charter must be early in the year 1043, earlier at least than the Gemót which we shall presently see was held in November. Swegen was therefore probably appointed in the Gemót at which Eadward was finally established as King. Another charter, of 1044 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 80), signed by Harold, Leofwine, Swegen, Tostig, and Gyrth, all with the rank of “Dux,” is deservedly marked as doubtful by Mr. Kemble.

89. See vol. i. p. 580, and Appendix G, on the Great Earldoms. His first signature is in 1045. Cod. Dipl. iv. 97.

90. Fl. Wig. 1051.

91. Chronn. Ab. and Wig. 1065. See Appendix D.

92. Vita Eadw. 408. “Virtute corporis et animi in populo præstabat ut alter Judas Machabæus.”

93. In the Bayeux Tapestry Harold is represented as lifting the Norman soldiers from the quicksands with the greatest ease.

94. Vita Eadw. 409. “Uterque [the writer is comparing Harold and Tostig] satis pulcro et venusto corpore et, ut conjicimus, non inæquali robore, non disparis audaciæ. Sed major natu Haroldus procerior staturâ, patris satis [these words are clearly corrupt] infinitis laboribus, vigiliis et inediâ, multâ animi lenitate et promptiori sapientiâ.”

95. See vol. i. p. 640.

96. De Inv. c. 14. “Tum ... astutiâ et legum terræ peritiâ, tum quia se talem gerebat quod non solum Angli, verum etiam Normanni et Gallici imprimis invidebant pulcritudini et prudentiæ, militiæ et sagacitati.”

97. Vita Eadw. 409. “Multum obloquia perferre, nam non facile prodere, non facile quoque, et in civem sive compatriotum, ut reor, nusquam, ulcisci.” Compare the character of Edward the First,

“Totus Christo traditur Rex noster Edwardus;

Velox est ad veniam, ad vindictam tardus.”

Political Songs (Camd. Soc.), p. 163.

98. See the poem in the Chronicles. So Snorro (Ant. Celt. Scand. 189. Laing, iii. 75), while strangely making Harold the youngest of the family and hardly realizing his position in the Kingdom, bears ample testimony to the kindly relations existing between him and the King. He is there called Eadward’s “foster son.” The Biographer (p. 433) calls him “nutricius suus frater.”

99. Vita Eadw. 410; a passage which I shall have to refer to again.

100. I refer both to Harold’s own proceedings at Waltham and to the general promotion of Germans under this reign. See Stubbs, De Inv. ix.

101. See Appendix E.

102. See William of Malmesbury’s Life of Wulfstan, Angl. Sacr. ii. 248, 253.

103. He was however a benefactor to the Abbey of Peterborough. The local historian Hugo Candidus says (p. 44. ap. Sparke), “Comes Haroldus dedit Cliftune et terram in Londone juxta monasterium Sancti Pauli, juxta portum qui vocatur Etheredishythe.” Harold’s connexion with London should be noticed. It was also at his advice that King Eadward made a grant to Abingdon (Hist. Mon. Ab. i. 469), and that a Thegn named Thurkill, of whom we shall hear again, commended himself to the same church (Ib. i. 484).

104. Vita Eadw. 409. “Cum quovis, quem fidelem putaret, interdum communicare consilium operis sui, et hoc interdum adeò differre, si debet duci, ut minùs conducibile à quibusdam videretur fore suæ commoditati.”

105. Ib. 410. “Uterque [Harold and Tostig] interdum quædam simulare adeò egregiè, ut qui eos non noverit incertius nil æstimare poterit.” In connexion with this curious passage I may quote a singular exaggeration from an unknown author; it is found in a marginal note on one of the manuscripts of the Winchester Annals (Luard, 27); “Haroldus Rex, si sapientèr ageret quidquid agebat furore, nullus hominum illum [sic] resisteret. Sed adeò erat animi inconstantis, quod nullus suorum se credidit illi.” Yet “sapientèr” is the adverb which the Biographer specially applies to Harold, in distinction to the “fortitèr” of Tostig.

106. The charge of rashness as brought against Harold during the last scene of his life I shall discuss elsewhere. I here add the Biographer’s disclaimer (Vita Eadw. 409); “Porro de vitio præcipitationis sive levitatis, quis hunc vel illum sive quemvis de Godwino patre genitum, sive ejus disciplinâ et studio educatum arguerit?” There is a very remarkable passage further on (p. 422), in which the Biographer says that Harold was “ad sacramenta nimis (proh dolor) prodigus.” The allusion clearly is to Harold’s oath to William, which the Biographer never distinctly mentions.

107. I refer of course to the tale of Eadgyth Swanneshals, of which I shall have to speak again more than once.

108. See vol. i. p. 577.

109. Chron. Ab. Cant. 1044. Petrib. 1043. I shall discuss the exact date afterwards.

110. Vita Eadw. 415. She sat at his feet, unless he lifted her up to sit at his side. This must be compared with the account of the legislation about West-Saxon Kings’ wives after the crime of Eadburh (Asser, M. H. B. 471 B). She had shown personal kindness to the Biographer (427);

“Scribes Reginam primo tibi subvenientem,

Et quicquid scribes, laus et honor sit ei.”

This perhaps gave occasion for the more elaborate and better known description in the false Ingulf.

William of Malmesbury’s account of her (ii. 197) is singular; “Femina in cujus pectore omnium liberalium artium esset gymnasium, sed parvum in mundanis rebus ingenium; quam quum videres, si literas stuperes, modestiam certè animi et speciem corporis desiderares.”

111. Hist. Rams. cxiv. (p. 457). Abbot Ælfwine, wishing to obtain certain lands bequeathed to the monastery by one Æthelwine the Black, but which were withheld from it by one Ælfric the son of Wihtgar, “apposuit quoque de divitis crumenæ dispendio viginti marcas auri, quibus gratiam Regis mercaretur, Ædthithæ [sic] quippe Reginæ sedulitatem quinque marcarum auri pretio exegit interponi, ut pias ejus preces regiis auribus fideliter importaret.” So again, in a charter of 1060 in Cod. Dipl. iv. 142, Eadgyth lays claim to certain lands claimed by the Abbey of Peterborough, but on the intercession of her husband and her brothers Harold and Tostig (none of whom seem to have taken anything), and on the gift of twenty marks and certain church ornaments, she is induced to confirm the grant. That she looked carefully after her rents in money, kine, and honey, and after the men who stole her horse, is no blame to her (Cod. Dipl. iv. 257).

112. Will. Pict. 199 A, B (Duchesne).

113. Flor. Wig. 1065.

114. See Appendix B.

115. Vita Eadw. 431, (cf. 433).

116. Ibid. 403. See below.

117. Godgifu was the sister of Thorold the Sheriff, founder of the Priory of Spalding. See John of Peterborough, a. 1052. p. 49. Giles. The legend of her riding naked through Coventry is found in Bromton (949), and Knighton (2334). They do not mention peeping Tom, who, it is some comfort to think, must at any rate have been one of King Eadward’s Frenchmen.

118. See Will. Malms. ii. 196. Cf. Æthel. Riev. 389. Chron. Evesham. 84. This last writer extends Leofric’s authority to the borders of Scotland. Did Cumberland reach to the Ribble in those days?

119. “Stow sub promontorio Lincolniæ.” Bromton, 949. See the charters of Bishop Wulfwig, Cod. Dipl. iv. 290. The church was not built by Leofric, but by Eadnoth the Second, Bishop of Dorchester (1034–1050); Leofric’s benefaction took the form of ornaments. See Flor. Wig. 1057, where he calls Stow “locus famosus qui Sanctæ Mariæ Stou Anglicè, Latinè verò Sanctæ Mariæ Locus appellatur.” The antiquity of part of the church is indisputable, but a more wretched village cannot be found.

A document, professing to be a petition from Godgifu to Pope Victor, praying for the confirmation of her gifts to Stow, is marked doubtful by Mr. Kemble (Cod. Dipl. iv. 168), doubtless on good grounds. But I do not understand his date, 1060–1066, as the Popedom of Victor the Second was from 1055 to 1057. Siward, who died early in 1055, could hardly have signed an address to Pope Victor.

120. See vol. i. p. 539.

121. See vol. i. p. 588.

122. See Appendix G.

123. Vita Eadw. 421, 422.

124. See Chronn. 1055.

125. See vol. i. p. 274.

126. See Appendix G.

127. Chron. 1051.

128. Chron. 1055.

129. Cod. Dipl. vi. 203.

130. For the earliest example, one of 1020, see Kemble, Archæological Journal, xiv. 61, 62.

131. See vol. i. p. 102.

132. See vol. i. p. 499.

133. See vol. i. p. 564.

134. Orkneyinga Saga, Ant. Celt. Scand. 172 et seqq. Robertson, i. 114. Burton, i. 369.

135. Fordun, iv. 44. Robertson, i. 116. Marianus Scotus (Pertz, v. 557) says expressly, “Donnchad Rex Scotiæ in autumno occiditur a duce suo Macbethad mac Finnloech, cui successit in regnum annis xvii.”

136. Fordun, u. s. “Consanguinea Siwardi Comitis.”

137. Robertson, i. 120 et seqq. Burton, i. 371–2.

138. Innes, Scotland in the Middle Ages, p. 118.

139. Marianus (Pertz, v. 558). “Rex Scottiæ Macbethad Romæ argentum pauperibus seminando distribuit.” Florence (1050) leaves out the word “pauperibus,” and changes “seminando” into “spargendo.” The change can hardly be undesigned, and of the influence of money at Rome we shall hear presently in the case of Bishop Ulf. Chron. Petrib. 1047. John of Peterborough (48) combines the two readings, saying, “Machetus Rex Scotorum Romæ argentum spargendo pauperibus distribuit.”

140. See Robertson, i. 122. Burton, i. 373.

141. See vol. i. p. 36.

142. See vol. i. p. 564.

143. Ann. Camb. 1039. Brut y Tywysogion, 1037.

144. Brut. 1040, 1042. Ann. Camb. 1039–1047. In one battle in 1040 Gruffydd seems to have been taken prisoner by the Danes of Dublin. But the whole narrative is very confused. See the entries under 1041 and 1042.

145. Brut, 1042. Ann. Camb. 1045?

146. See above, p. 40.

147. See above, p. 41.

148. See above, p. 18.

149. Æthel. R. 375. “Tunc elevatus est sol et luna stetit in ordine suo, quando, Edwardo gloriâ et honore coronato, sacerdotes sapientiâ et sanctitate fulgebant, monasteria omni relligione pollebant, clerus in officio suo, populus stabat in gradu suo; videbatur etiam terra fecundior, aer salubrior, sol serenior, maris unda pacatior. Quoniam diu Rege pacifico regnante in uno vinculo pacis omnia convenirent, ut nihil pestilentiosum esset in aere, nihil in mari tempestuosum, in terrâ nihil infecundum, nihil inordinatum in clero, nihil in plebe tumultuosum.” It would be endless to contrast all these details with those found in the Chronicles and the Biographer. Even William of Malmesbury, comparatively sober as he is, goes too far when he says (ii. 196), “Denique eo regnante, nullus tumultus domesticus qui non citò comprimeretur, nullum bellum forinsecùs, omnia domi forisque quieta, omnia tranquilla.”

150. “Forðam heo hit heold ǽr to fæste wið hine,” say the Abingdon, Peterborough, and Canterbury Chronicles. Worcester is more explicit; “Forþan þe heo wæs æror þam cynge hire suna swiðe heard, þæt heo him læsse dyde þonne he wolde, ær þam þe he cyng wære, and eac syððan.” This is translated by Florence; “Vel quia priusquam Rex esset effectus, vel post, minus quam volebat illi dederat, et ei valdè dura exstiterat;” and by Roger of Wendover, “eo quod priusquam Rex fuerat, nihil illi contulerat quod petebat” (i. 482). William of Malmesbury says (ii. 196), “Mater ‘Angustos filii jamdudum riserat annos,’ nihil umquam de suo largita.” He then gives the reason, namely her preference for Cnut over Æthelred.

151. See vol. i. p. 454.

152. See vol. i. pp. 544, 555, 559.

153. See vol. i. p. 545 et seqq.

154. See vol. i. pp. 535, 561.

155. See the writ quoted at vol. i. p. 580, which cannot belong to the first reign of Harthacnut in Wessex only.

156. Besides land, the Abingdon Chronicle speaks of her wealth “on golde and on seolfre and on unasecgendlicum þingum.” So that of Worcester says of her treasures, “þa wæron unatellendlice.” So Florence; “quicquid in auro, argento, gemmis, lapidibus, aliisve rebus pretiosum habuerat.”

157. Will. Malms. ii. 196. “Congestis undecumque talentis crumenas infecerat, pauperum oblita; quibus non patiebatur dari nummum ne diminueret numerum. Itaque quod injustè coacervârat non inhonestè ablatum, ut egenorum proficeret compendio et fisco sufficeret regio.” Though accepting this account (hæc referentibus etsi plurimum fides haberi debeat), he goes on, as he does elsewhere (ii. 181. see vol. i. p. 487), to speak of her bounty to monasteries, especially at Winchester.

158. A meeting of the Witan is implied in the language of the Worcester Chronicle, “Man gerædde þan cynge þæt he rád of Gleawcestre,” and in the presence and consent of the three Earls—“ut illi [Leofricus, Godwinus, et Siwardus] consilium ei dederant,” as Florence says.

159. See vol. i. p. 539.

160. See vol. i. p. 588.

161. So says the Worcester Chronicle, followed by Florence; “He rád of Gleawcestre, and Leofric eorl and Godwine eorl and Sigwarð eorl mid heora genge, to Wincestre;” “Festinato Rex cum comitibus Leofrico, Godwino, et Siwardo de civitate Glawornâ Wintoniam venit.” The other Chronicles do not imply the King’s personal presence; “se cyng let geridan,” &c.

162. Chron. Wig. “On únwær on þa hlæfdian.” Flor. Wig. “Venit improvise.”

163. Chronn. Ab., Petrib., Cant. “Se cyng let geridan ealle þa land þe his modor ahte him to handa.” The Worcester Chronicler says nothing of the land.

164. Flor. Wig. “Verumtamen sufficienter ei ministrari necessaria præcepit et illam ibidem quietam manere jussit.”

165. Emma signs a charter of her son’s during this year 1043 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 74), which therefore belongs to an earlier Gemót than this of November, probably to one held at Winchester at the time of the coronation. From this time we find her signing only a few private documents (Cod. Dipl. iv. 86, 116) and documents connected with the Church of Winchester (iv. 90, 93). After her son’s marriage she seems not to sign her son’s charters at all. The documents at iv. 80, 99 are doubtful or spurious. On the Legend of Emma see Appendix H.

166. See above, p. 10.

167. Adam of Bremen, iii. 13.

168. Chronn. and Flor. Wig. 1044, 1045, 1046, 1047. All dates are given.

169. De Inv. 14. “Adelstanus ... degenerans à patris astutiâ et sapientiâ ... multa ex his perdidit, et inter cetera Waltham.” This may however only mean that he squandered his estate. His son Esegar was Staller two years later. See Professor Stubbs’ note, and vol. i. p. 591.

170. Chron. Wig. 1045. Flor. Wig. 1044. If Gunhild’s sons were old enough to be dangerous, they must have been the children of Hakon who died in 1030. The names Heming and Thurkill have already appeared as those of a pair of brothers. Vol. i. p. 376. Cf. Knytlinga Saga, ap. Johnston, Ant. Celt. Scand. 105.

171. On this Harold see vol. i. p. 476. The signature to a charter of Bishop Lyfing’s, 1042 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 69), must be his.

172. Adam Brem. ii. 75. “Caussa mortis ea fuit quod de regali stirpe Danorum genitus, propior sceptro videbatur quam Magnus.”

173. The Chronica Sclavica, c. 13, makes Godescalc leave England after the death of Cnut (vol. i. 649, 494), but Adam (u. s.) puts his departure after the death of Cnut and his sons. If this last account be correct, it looks very much as if Godescalc was banished. According to Saxo (p. 204), he served for some time under Swend in his war with Magnus. Saxo also (p. 208) marries him to Siritha (Sigrid?) a natural daughter of Swend, but the national Chronicle distinctly makes his wife Demmyn, Cnut’s sister or daughter, alive at the time of his death.

These banishments probably helped, along with the displaced massacre of Saint Brice, to form the groundwork for the legend of the general expulsion or massacre of Danes in England. See vol. i. p. 592.

174. See vol. i. p. 473.

175. See vol. i. p. 563.

176. A private document in Cod. Dipl. iv. 116 is signed by “Stigand p̃.” It is assigned to the year 1049, but this date must be wrong, as it is signed by Ælfweard Bishop of London, who died in 1044. As it is signed by Eadward and Emma, it must belong to the early Gemót of 1043, that at which Stigand received his appointment as Bishop and Swegen as Earl.

177. Chron. Ab. 1043. Chronn. Petrib. and Cant. 1042.

178. Chron. Ab. “And raðe þǽs man sette Stigant of his bisceoprice, and nam eal þæt he ahte þam cinge to handa; forðam he wæs nehst his modor rǽde, and heo for swá swá he hire rædde; þæs ðe men wendon.”

179. Chron. Petrib. 1048.

180. See vol. i. p. 320. Chron. Ab. 1050.

181. See vol. i. p. 565. Vita Eadw. p. 399.

182. In very much later times, in the fifteenth century, we find Parliament, King, and Chapter all combining in the appointment of Bishops, in a way which would rather surprise us now. The House of Commons petitions the King to recommend a particular person to the Chapter. Two such applications were made in favour of Archbishop Bourchier, at different stages of his advancement. See Hook, Lives of Archbishops, v. 276, 282. The order in Eadward’s time was different, as the Chapter seems, sometimes at least, to have first elected and then to have asked the confirmation of King and Witan. But the principle is much the same. At all events, in the eleventh century, though the papal veto was just beginning to be heard of, a papal provision was quite unknown.

183. See Lingard, Anglo-Saxon Church, i. 94, where the whole matter is very fairly stated. Investiture by the staff is implied in the famous legend of Saint Wulfstan at the tomb of Eadward.

184. Chron. Petrib. 1047.

185. See vol. i. pp. 563, 588.

186. Chron. Ab. 1044. Petrib. 1043. “Forðam se arcebiscop wende þæt hit sum oðer man abiddan wolde, oþþe gebicgan, þe he wyrs truwode and uðe, gif hit ma manna wiste.”

187. Ib. “Be þæs cynges leafe, and ræde, and Godwines eorles. Hit wæs elles feawum mannum cuð ær hit gedón wæs.” So William of Malmesbury, ii. 197. “Ante cum Rege tantùm et Comite communicato consilio, ne quis ad tantum fastigium aspiraret indignus, vel prece vel pretio.”

188. He was consecrated to the see of Upsala, according to Professor Stubbs (Ep. Succ. p. 20) and Dean Hook (i. 491); to Rochester, according to the Abingdon History (i. 452). But Florence (1049) calls him “Siwardus, Edsii Dorubernensis archiepiscopi chorepiscopus.” William of Malmesbury (De Gest. Pont. 116) has a strange story, how Siward was to succeed Eadsige, but treating him harshly, and not even allowing him enough to eat, was deprived of the succession to the Archbishoprick, and had to content himself with Rochester—“quo leviaret verecundiam, quo detrimentum consolaretur.” Siward signs charters with the title of Archbishop, Cod. Dipl. iv. 96, 103, 105; as Bishop only in iv. 99; as Abbot only in a very doubtful charter, iv. 102. See also Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 759 B. Angl. Sacr. i. 106. Bromton, 938.

189. Chron. Ab. 1048. Chron. Wig. 1050. Fl. Wig. 1049. See Hist. Ab. i. 461. Siward was a benefactor to his abbey, and fills a considerable place in its history.

190. Chron. Ab. 1048. Petrib. 1046.

191. See vol. i. p. 568.

192. Chron. Wig. 1045. Fl. Wig. 1044. Hist. Eves. p. 85. Hist. Ram. c. 104.

193. Fl. Wig. u. s. “Ablatis ex maximâ parte libris et ornamentis, quæ ipse eidem contulerat loco, et quædam, ut fertur, quæ alii contulerant.” Cf. Hist. Rams. u. s. But the Evesham historian, who uses very strong language against the monks of his own house, does not charge Ælfweard with more than transferring his intended gifts from Evesham to Ramsey; “quæ huic loco offerre cogitabat, versâ vice præfatæ ecclesiæ Ramesiæ omnia condonabat.” Hist. Eves. p. 85.

194. Chron. Wig. 1045. Fl. Wig. 1044. Hist. Eves. p. 86. Mannig rebuilt the church (Chronn. Ab. and Wig. 1054), and continued Abbot till 1066, when he died, having been for some time disabled by palsy.

195. Will. Malm. Gest. Pont. 134 b. He is there spoken of simply as a monk of Jumièges, but from the Biographer (399) and from the Nova Chronica Normanniæ, A. 1037, it appears that he had been Abbot. (See Neustria Pia, p. 309.) He became Abbot in 1037, and began the church in 1040. William himself, in his History (ii. 199), speaks of his building as “Ecclesia Sanctæ Mariæ, quam ipse præcipuo et sumptuoso opere construxerat.” He begins to sign as Bishop in 1046. Cod. Dipl. iv. 110.

196. William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 116) makes Robert’s influence with Eadward the recompense of some services done to him in Normandy. He goes on, “Is ergo et amore antiquo et recenti honore primas partes in consiliis regalibus vendicabat, quos vellet deponeret, quos liberet, sublimaret.”

197. Ann. Wint. 21, Luard. “Tanti fuit homo ille in oculis Regis ut si diceret nigram cornicem esse candidam Rex citiùs ori illius quam oculis suis crederet.”

198. Vita Eadw. 400. So William of Malmesbury (u. s.); “Ille contra pertinaciùs insistere, donec præcipuos optimates, Godwinum dico et filios ejus, proditionis apud Regem accusatos Angliâ expelleret. Expulsionis aliæ quoque fuere caussæ, et alii auctores, sicut aliàs non tacuimus. Sed ille clariùs classicum cecinit, instantiùs accusavit.”

199. See vol. i. p. 573.

200. Bishop Godwin (Cat. of Bishops, p. 25) says truly, but without fully understanding the force of his own words; “This man is said to have laid the first foundation of the Normans conquest in England.”

201. Chron. Petrib. 1043. Fl. Wig. 1044.

202. See above, p. 63.

203. See above, p. 18.

204. Snorro, Saga of Magnus, 33, of Harold, 18 (Laing, ii. 391. iii. 17). Chron. Roskild. Lang. i. 377. Saxo, 203.

205. Saxo, 204.

206. See vol. i. p. 649.

207. Saxo, 203. Swend. Agg. c. 5 (Lang. i. 56). So Adam Brem. ii. 75; “Magnus autem Rex pro justitiâ et fortitudine carus fuit Danis, verùm Sclavis terribilis, qui post mortem Chnut Daniam infestabant.”

208. Snorro, Magnus, 38 (Laing, ii. 397). Ant. Celt. Scand. 184.

209. Snorro, Ant. Celt. Scand. 185. “Var þat þá rád her allra landsmanna at taka mik till Konungs her í Englandi.”

210. Does this mean that Eadward meant to meet Magnus in single combat?

211. Chron. Ab. 1044, 1045. Chron. Petrib. 1043.

212. Chron. Ab. 1045. “And þar wæs swa mycel here gegæderod swa nan man ne geseh, sciphere nænne maran on þysan lande.”

213. For the life of Harold Hardrada our chief authority is his Saga in Snorro, which will be found in the third volume of Laing’s Translation. It fits in better than might have been expected with authentic history. There are also notices in Adam of Bremen and the Danish writers.

214. See Finlay, Byz. Emp. i. 466.

215. See vol. i. p. 577, and above, p. 44.

216. Adam Brem. iii. 16. “Erat vir potens et clarus victoriis, qui prius in Græciâ et in Scythiæ regionibus multa contra barbaros prœlia confecit.” For some legends, see Saxo, 205.

217. See Finlay, i. 487.

218. Ib.

219. It is worth noticing that the reigning Emperor Constantine Monomachos had a hand in restoring the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. It would be singular indeed if Harold Hardrada were in any way the instrument of his bounty. See Finlay, i. 503.

220. So says the Saga, but it is hard to say who is meant by this niece of Zôê. It is possible that, if there be any truth in the story, some niece or other kinswoman of Constantine is intended. William of Malmesbury (iii. 260) gives another turn to the story. He was “pro stupro illustris fœminæ leoni objectus.” Of course he kills the beast. In Saxo (205) the crime becomes murder, and the lion is exchanged for a dragon.

221. Snorro, Harold, c. 18 (Laing, iii. 17).

222. Chron. Wig. 1046. “On þam geare gegaderade Eadward cyng mycele scypferde on Sandwic, þurh Magnus þreatunge on Norwegon; ac his gewinn and Swegenes on Denmarcon geletton þæt he her ne com.” So Fl. Wig. 1045. Rog. Wend. i. 483.

223. Chron. Ab. 1044. Petrib. 1043. Cant. 1045. But 1043 in Peterborough really means 1045, and the 1044 of Abingdon takes in the whole Christmas season running into the next year. The Hyde writer (288), amusingly enough, places the marriage after Godwine’s return in 1052. Eadward “adveniens multâ probitate multâque animi industriâ cœpit florere, et Normannos quos adduxerat principes per Angliam constituere; contra hunc quoque Comes Godwinus, pacis inimicus, tentans rebellare, irâ commotus, Angliâ discessit, moxque repatrians usque in ipsam metropolim Londoniam classem suam advexit. Denique se non posse prævalere animadvertens, pacem cum Edwardo statuit componere, et ut nullius rebellionis suspicio remaneret, filiam suam Editham nomine ei matrimonio copulavit, filiumque suum Haroldum ejus dapiferum constituit.”

224. See above, p. 36.

225. This legend occurs in the Vita Eadwardi, p. 394. It is of course not omitted by the professed hagiographers. See Appendix B.

226. See above, p. 41.

227. See Gisa’s narrative in Hunter’s Ecclesiastical Documents, pp. 15, 16. Compare the promotion of Savaric to the same see by the less kindly influence of a later Emperor. Canon. Well. ap. Angl. Sacr. i. 563.

228. Hist. Rams. c. 75. (p. 434). “Quum esset bonæ vitæ et prudentiæ laudabilis, genuinâ tum animi feritate, utpote Teutonicus natione, damnum aliquod suæ attulit laudi.” His appointment is more remarkable, as he succeeded Wulfsige who died at Assandun (vol. i. p. 432), so that he must have been promoted very early in Cnut’s reign, before his connexion with Conrad began. Wythmann got into all kinds of trouble with his monks, and at last, after a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, died a solitary. His story in the Ramsey History is worth reading.

229. See vol. i. p. 178.

230. Chron. Ab. 1045. “Eadward cyng geaf Heramanne his preoste þæt bisceoprice.” Chron. Wig. 1046. “Man sette Hereman on his setle,” an expression implying the consent of the Witan. Florence says, “Regis capellanus Herimannus, de Lotharingiâ oriundus.”

231. Fl. Wig. 1031. Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 145 b.

232. “Vir prudentissimus Livingus,” says Florence (1031); “Omnibus quæ injuncta fuerant, sapientèr et mirificè ante adventum Regis consummatis,” says William.

233. Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 145 b. Cf. Gest. Regg. iii. 300.

234. See vol. i. p. 563.

235. See above, p. 7.

236. Will. Malms. u. s. “Ambitiosus et protervus ecclesiasticarum legum tyrannus, ut fertur, invictus, qui nihil pensi haberet, quominùs omni voluntati suæ assisteret.”

237. Will. Malms. u. s. “A majoribus accepimus, quum ille spiritum efflaret, tum horrisonum crepitum per totam Angliam auditum, ut ruina et finis totius putaretur orbis.” The loss of men like Lyfing is indeed the ruin of nations.

238. Will. Malms. (u. s.), who speaks of his gifts to the monastery, and of the services still said for him, “ut hodieque xv. graduum psalmos continuatâ per successores consuetudine pro ejus decantent quiete.”

239. “Lyfing se wordsnotera biscop.” He adds, “he hæfde iii. biscoprice an on Defenascire, and on Cornwalon, and on Wigracestre.” So Florence calls him “Hwicciorum, Domnaniæ, et Cornubiæ præsul.” In the Peterborough Chronicle he is “biscop on Defenascire,” which the Canterbury Chronicler, using the language of his own age, turns into “biscop of Exceastre.”

240. Flor. Wig. 1046. “Regis cancellario Leofrico Brytonico mox Cridiatunensis et Cornubiensis datus est præsulatus.”

241. Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 145 b. “Lefricus apud Lotharingos altus et doctus.”

242. See vol. i. p. 320.

243. See vol. i. p. 353.

244. Will. Malms. u. s. He again speaks of Æthelstan’s walls. See vol. i. pp. 337–340.

245. See vol. i. pp. 345, 346.

246. Such a personal installation seems to be the meaning of the description in the foundation charter of the new see of Exeter, in Cod. Dipl. iv. 118. The Charter is doubtful, but it may probably be trusted for a fact of this kind. Cf. Will. Malms. iii. 300.

247. See the whole subject fully illustrated by Professor Stubbs in the Preface to the De Inventione, p. ix. et seqq.

The rule of Chrodegang will be found at length in D’Achery’s Spicilegium, i. 565 et seqq.

248. Cap. 53. “Ut Canonici cucullos monachorum non induant.”

249. See Stubbs, De Inventione, p. x.

250. Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 145 b. “Canonicos statuit qui, contra morem Anglorum, ad formam Lotharingorum uno triclinio comederent, uno cubiculo cubitarent. Transmissa est hujuscemodi regula ad posteros, quamvis pro luxu temporum nonnullâ jam ex parte deciderit, habentque clerici œconomum ab episcopo constitutum, qui eis diatim necessaria victui, annuatim amictui commoda suggerat.”

251. See vol. i. p. 353.

252. The name of Ealdred will be constantly recurring in our history for the next twenty-three years. His general life and character are described by William of Malmesbury, De Gest Pont. 154, and Thomas Stubbs, Gest. Pont. Eb. X Scriptt. 1700 et seqq.

253. T. Stubbs, u. s. “Iste apud Regem Edwardum tantæ erat auctoritatis, ut cum eo mortales inimicos reconciliaret et de inimicissimis amicissimos faceret.”

254. The reconciliation of Gruffydd appears from his acting immediately afterwards in concert with Earl Swegen. That Ealdred brought about this present reconciliation is not distinctly stated, but it quite falls in with his general character, and with the fact that he played a prominent part in a later reconciliation between Eadward and Gruffydd. The success of Ealdred in reconciling both Swegen and Gruffydd to the King is specially commented on by Thomas Stubbs, the biographer of the Archbishops of York (X Scriptt. 1701). Now Stubbs wrote more than three hundred years after the time; still he is not a romancer like Bromton or Knighton, but a really honest and careful writer, and he doubtless had access to materials which are now lost or unprinted. He may indeed refer to the later reconciliation in 1056, but the combination of the names of Swegen and Gruffydd might lead us to think that he was speaking of some event at this time.

255. Chron. Ab. 1046. “Her on þysum geare for Swegn eorl into Wealan, and Griffin se Norþerna cyng forð mid him, and him man gislode.” In Ann. Camb. 1046 we read, “Seditio magna orta fuit inter Grifud filium Lewelin et Grifud filium Riderch.” Or possibly the expedition may be that recorded under the next year, when Gruffydd ap Llywelyn ravaged all South Wales in revenge for the treacherous slaughter of one hundred and forty of his nobles. In any case the two independent accounts exactly fit in to one another.

256. Chron. Ab. 1046. “þa he hamwerdes wæs þa het he feccan him to þa abbedessan on Leomynstre, and hæfde hi þa while þe him geliste, and let hi syððan faran ham.”

257. Florence does not mention the affair of Swegen and Eadgifu in its chronological order, but refers to it when he describes the return of Swegen in 1049. “Suanus ... qui, relictâ prius Angliâ, eo quod Edgivam Leonensis monasterii abbatissam, quam corruperat, in matrimonium, habere non licuerit, Danemarciam adierat.” So the Worcester Chronicle, which does not mention Eadgifu, says, under 1050, “Swegen Eorl, þe fór ær of þisan lande to Denmarcon, and þær forworhte hine wið Denum.” Abingdon, the only Chronicle which mentions Eadgifu, does not speak directly of Swegen’s departure, but implies it under 1049. Mr. St. John (ii. 148 et seqq.) works up the story into an elaborate romance, with a glowing description of the beauty, accomplishments, and wickedness of Eadgifu and of nuns in general. M. de Bonnechose (ii. 85) tells us, “Sweyn cinquième fils de Godwin, fit violence (?) à Elgive, abbesse de Leominster; banni par le roi pour ce crime,” &c.

258. See vol. i. p. 279.

259. Chronn. Petrib. 1045. Cant. 1046. “On ðam ilcan geare ferde Swegen eorl ut to Baldewines lande to Brycge, and wunode þær ealne winter, and wende þa to sumere út.” “Út” means, of course, to Denmark. William of Malmesbury says (ii. 200), “Swanus, perversi ingenii et infidi in Regem, multotiens à patre et fratre Haroldo descivit, et pirata factus, prædis marinis virtutes majorum polluit.” Whom did William look on as the forefathers of Swegen?

260. Chron. Petrib. 1046. Swegen on his return asks for their restoration.

261. Will. Malms. ii. 196. “Leofricus ... monasteria multa constituit ... Leonense, et nonnulla alia.” So Flor. Wig. 1057. On Leominster see Monasticon, iv. 51.

262. Leominster Monastery had no existence in the time of Henry the First, when it was a “dirutum monasterium” which that King granted to his new Abbey of Reading (Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. Scriptt. p. Bed. 144). I infer also from Domesday (180) that the house had no corporate being at the time of the Survey. Leominster was then held by the King; in King Eadward’s time it had been held by Queen Eadgyth. The monastery is only casually mentioned; it holds no land, but a rent seems to be reserved for the “victus monialium.” These facts together seem to me to show that the society was dissolved, a certain rent being set aside for the surviving members, like the pensions granted at the general Dissolution under Henry the Eighth. See Appendix E.

263. Chronn. Ab. 1046. Wig. 1047. “Man utlagode Osgod stallere.” Chron. Petrib. 1044. “On þis ilcan geare wearð aflemed ut Osgot Clapa.” Chron. Cant. 1045. “And Osgod Clapa wærð ut adriven.” The difference of expression in the different Chronicles is remarkable. On “ut adriven,” see vol. i. p. 561. Florence, 1046, says, “Osgodus Clapa expellitur Angliâ.”

264. See above, p. 7.

265. The Abingdon Chronicle says “on þis ylcan geare man geútlagode Osgod Clapan foran to middanwintre.”

266. This is implied in the narrative of Florence, 1049. “Osgodus autem ... Danemarciam rediit.”

267. See vol. i. p. 466.

268. Snorro, Harold, 21 (Laing, iii. 19).

269. Ibid. 26, 28 (Laing, iii. 25, 27).

270. The application of Swend and the refusal by the Witan come from the Worcester Chronicle, 1048. “And Swegen eac sende hider, bead him fylstes ongeon Magnus Norwega cyng; þæt man sceolde sendan L. scypa him to fultume; ac hit þuhte unræd eallum folce; and hit wearð þa gelet, þurh þæt þe Magnus hæfde mycel scypecræft.” The personal share of Godwine and Leofric in the debate comes from Florence, 1047. “Tunc comes Godwinus consilium Regi dedit ut saltem L. naves militibus instructas ei mitteret; sed quia Leofrico comiti et omni populo id non videbatur consilium, nullam ei mittere voluit.”

271. Flor. Wig. 1047.

272. Snorro, Harold, 30 (Laing, iii. 29).

273. Saxo, 204. Cf. vol. i. p. 257.

274. For a mythical version of the death of Magnus, mixed up with a story of a vision of Eadward’s, see Æthel. Riev. X Scriptt. 378.

275. See above, p. 73.

276. Flor. Wig. 1048. I insert this story with a certain amount of fear and trembling, as it reads so like a mere repetition of what happened the year before. Still the authority of Florence is high, and it is not unlikely that Swend, in his new circumstances, might make a second application.

277. Fl. Wig. 1048. “Haroldus ... nuntios ad Regem Eadwardum misit et pacem amicitiamque illi obtulit, et recepit.”

278. See below, p. 98.

279. Chron. Ab. 1046. Fl. Wig. 1047. Chron. Wig. 1048. It was after Candlemas, i. e. of 1047.

280. Chronn. Ab. 1048. Wig. 1049. Fl. Wig. 1048.

281. Chron. Wig. 1049. “Þæt wilde fyr on Deorbyscire micel yfel dide.” Florence (1048) calls it “ignis aërius, vulgo dictus silvaticus.”

282. Chronn. Ab. 1047. Wig. 1048. Petrib. 1045. Cant. 1046. Fl. Wig. 1047. By some extraordinary confusion Florence places here the death of Eadmund, Bishop of Durham, and the succession of Eadred, which happened in 1041. See vol. i. pp. 588–9.

283. Chron. Ab. 1048. Chron. Petrib. 1046. These clearly refer to the same event. I hardly understand Mr. Thorpe’s note to his Translation of the Chronicles, p. 137. “This predatory expedition, assigned here to the year 1046, is of a much earlier date”—one seemingly before the year 1000. This is because a Lothen and an Yrling occur in the story of Olaf Tryggwesson. But the Chronicler could hardly be mistaken on such a point. Lappenberg (499. Thorpe, ii. 239) seems to have no doubt on the matter.

284. “Godwines Rath wurde bald als der richtige erkannt.” Lappenberg, 499.

285. I make up the details by joining the narratives of the two Chronicles. Both mention Sandwich; but the Peterborough Chronicle alone speaks of the vast booty.

286. Chron. Ab. 1048. “Man gehergode Sandwic and Wiht, and ofslohan þa betsta men þe þa wæron.”

287. Chron. Petrib. 1046. “And wendon þa onbuton Tenet, and woldon þær þet ilce don; ac þet landfolc hardlice wiðstodon, and forwerndon heom ægðer ge upganges ge wæteres, and aflymdon hi þanon mid ealle.” The refusal of water is remarkable. Probably in other cases the landfolk had to provide provisions out of sheer fear.

288. Chron. Petrib. u. s.

289. Chron. Ab. 1048. “And Eadward cining and þa eorlas foran æfter þam út mid heore scypun.” Eadward had been on board the fleet once before (see p. 74), but that time he saw no service.

290. Chron. Petrib. 1046.

291. See vol. i. pp. 313, 330, 633.

292. Lamb. Herz. 1047.

293. See above, p. 17.

294. See the Life of Leo by the contemporary Archdeacon Wibert, in Muratori, iii. 282.

295. The intervention of Hildebrand, as told by Otto of Freisingen in his Annals, lib. vi. c. 33, seems apocryphal, as Muratori remarks in his note, iii. 292. But the germ of the story is to be found in Wibert; Leo entered Rome barefoot, and though he announced his appointment by the Emperor, he demanded the assent of the clergy and people before he entered on his office.

296. On this war see Hermannus Contractus, 1044–1050. Lambert, 1044–1050. Sigebert, 1044–1049 (ap. Pertz, vi. 358–9). Ann. Leodienses (ap. Pertz, iv. 19, 20). Otto Fris. Chron. vi. 33. Conrad Ursp. 1045–9 (p. 229, ed. 1537). Annalista Saxo (ap. Pertz, vol. vi. p. 689). Struvius, i. 352. The destruction of the palace is mentioned in our own Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles, 1049, 1050; “Se casere gaderode unarimedlice fyrde ongean Baldewine of Brycge þurh þæt þæt he bræc þæne pallant æt Neomagan, and eac fela oðra unþanca þe he him dyde.” So Florence, 1049; “Quod apud Neomagum suum palatium combussisset atque fregisset pulcherrimum.” The year of its destruction was 1046, according to Lambert (“Inter alias quas rei publicæ intulit clades, Neumago domum regiam miri et incomparabilis operis incendit”), 1047 according to Sigebert, (“Godefridus palatium Neomagi incendit et irreparabiliter destruit”). Both writers speak of the destruction of the church of Verdun; Lambert adds the singular penance of Godfrey, which must have followed his submission in 1049. “Post modicum facti in tantum pœnituit, ut publicè se verberari faceret, et capillos suos ne tonderentur [one is reminded of the Merwings] multâ pecuniâ redimeret, sumptus ad reædificandam ecclesiam daret, et in opere cæmentario per seipsum plerumque vilis mancipii ministerio functus deserviret.” Abbot Hugh in the Verdun Chronicle (Labbe, i. 190) makes the destruction at Verdun still more extensive; “Templum Sanctæ Mariæ à Duce Godefrido et Balduino succensum est, vasa sacra ablata, civitasque destructa, viii. Kal. Nov.” So in another Verdun Chronicle (ib. 401); “1048 Civitas Virdunensis a Duce Godefrido et Balduino Comite deprædatur et unà cum Monasterio Sanctæ Mariæ incenditur.”

297. Florence (1049) seems pointedly to distinguish the relations in which Swend and Eadward stood to the Emperor. “Suanus ... ut Imperator illi mandârat, cum suâ classe ibi affuit, et eâ vice fidelitatem Imperatori juravit. Misit quoque ad Regem Anglorum Eadwardum et rogavit illum ne Baldwinum permitteret effugere, si vellet ad mare fugere.”

298. Flor. Wig. 1049. Chronn. Ab. and Wig. ib. “þæt he ne geþafode þæt he him on wætere ne ætburste.”

299. See vol. i. pp. 229, 245.

300. Chronn. Ab. and Wig. “þæt se casere hæfde of Baldwine eall þæt he wolde.” The reconciliation was at Aachen. Sigebert, 1049. Hermann, 1050. Lambert seems to confound this reconciliation with the later synod at Mainz. William of Poitiers boldly turns the tables; the father-in-law of Duke William could not have made submission even to an Emperor; “Nomine siquidem Romani Imperii miles fuit, re decus et gloria summa consiliorum in summâ necessitudine ... Est enim et nationibus procul remotis notissimum quam frequentibus, quamque gravibus bellis Imperatorum immanitatem fatigaverit, pace demum ad conditiones ipsius arbitratu dictatas compositâ, quum Regum dominos terræ ipsorum nonnullâ parte mulctaverit violenter extortâ, sua quæque vel inexpugnatâ vel indefessâ potiùs manu tutam.” Giles, 90. Duchesne, 183 D.

301. See pp. 88, 90.

302. Chron. Ab. 1049. “He com hider mid hiwunge, cwæð þæt he wolde his man beon.”

303. Chron. Petrib. 1046. “And com Swegn eorl in mid vii. scypum to Bosenham, et griðode wið þone cyng, and behet man him þæt he moste wurðe [beon] ælc þæra þinga þe he ǽr ahte.

304. Chron. Petrib. 1046. “Da wiðlæg Harold eorl his broðor and Beorn eorl þæt he ne moste beon nan þære þinga wurðe þe se cyng him geunnen hæfde.” So Chron. Ab. 1049. The Worcester Chronicle and Florence do not mention this opposition of Harold and Beorn.

305. See vol. i. p. 370.

306. “Fóron fela scypa hám,” says the Worcester Chronicle; but Abingdon puts it more distinctly; “And þa se cing lyfde eallon Myrceon ham; and hig swa dydon.”

307. Abingdon and Worcester mention Godwine’s going with forty-two ships, but Peterborough has more distinctly, “Ða ge[wende] Godwine eorl west onbuton mid þæs cynges ii. scipum þan anan steorde Harold eorl and þan oðran Tostig his broðor, and landesmanna sciþa xlii.”

308. The first certainly authentic signature of Tostig seems to be in this year. Cod. Dipl. iv. 115. The charter, after the signatures of Godwine, Leofric and Siward, has those of “Harold Dux,” “Beorn Dux,” “Tosti nobilis,” “Leowine nobilis.” Leofwine must have been very young.

309. Chron. Petrib. “Ða scyfte man Harold eorl úp þæs cynges scipe þe Harold eorl ǽr steorde.” Mr. Earle’s conjecture that for “Harold eorl” we should read “Beorn eorl” is absolutely necessary to make sense of the passage. Parallel Chronicles, 343.

310. Was it some feeling that a brother’s life had been at least in jeopardy that led William of Malmesbury, or those whom he followed, into the strange statement (ii. 200), “Pro conscientiâ Brunonis cognati interempti, et, ut quidam dicunt, fratris”?

311. Chron. Ab. “Þa wende Beorn for þære sibbe þæt he him swican nolde.” So Wig.

312. “To Dertamuðan,” Chronn. Ab. and Wig. “to Axamuðan,” Chron. Petrib.

313. The personal share of Harold in the burial comes from the Abingdon Chronicle, the one least favourable to Godwine. Peterborough, so strongly Godwinist, is silent.

314. Chron. Ab. “And se cing þa and eall here cwæðon Swegen for niðing.” Cf. Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Ða se cyng ... sende ofer eall Englalande, and bead þæt ælc man þe wære unniðing sceolde cúman to hé.” Will. Malms. iv. 306. “Jubet ut compatriotas advocent ad obsidionem venire, nisi si qui velint sub nomine Niðing, quod nequam sonat, remanere.” Matt. Paris. p. 15 (Wats); “Absque morâ ut ad obsidionem veniant jubet; nisi velint sub nomine Nithing, quod Latinè nequam sonat, recenseri. Angli, qui nihil contumeliosius et vilius æstimant quam hujusmodi ignominioso vocabulo notari, catervatim ad Regem confluentes,” &c.

315. On military Assemblies, Macedonian, Ætolian, and even Achaian, see Hist. Fed. Gov. i. pp. 413, 511, 549.

316. See vol. i. p. 404.

317. See vol. i. p. 86.

318. Here, which implies a standing force, very often a paid force, not fyrd, the general levy of the country.

319. See vol. i. p. 109.

320. On the Housecarls, as a later and inferior form of the Comitatus, see vol. i. p. 490.

321. “Lytel ær þan” (namely the second burial of Beorn), the men of Hastings set forth, according to the Worcester Chronicle, the only one which mentions their exploit.

322. So I understand the words of the Worcester Chronicle. The men of Hastings go after Swegen and take “his twa scypa”—the only ships he then had. To explain his having only two ships the writer adds, “ehta scypa he hæfde ær he Beorn beswice; syððan hine forleton ealle buton twam.” The only meaning of these words seems to be that which I have given, though it involves the difficulty as to the personal escape of Swegen. But it is clear that Florence took them differently; “Dimiserunt illum sex naves, quarum duas paullò post cœperunt Hastingenses ... Swanus verò ad Flandriam duabus fugiens navibus ibi mansit.” This accounts for his escape, but I cannot see how “his twa scypa” can mean two of the ships which had left him. The Abingdon Chronicle also mentions the desertion of the six ships, but not the exploit of the Hastings men.

For other examples of the vigorous action of the men of the “Cinque Ports” in 1293 and 1297, see Walter of Hemingburgh, vol. ii. pp. 41, 158 (Hist. Soc. Ed.).

323. Chron. Ab. “And þar wunode mid Baldwine.” Chron. Petrib. “And Swegen gewende þa east to Baldewines lande, and sæt þær ealne winter on Brycge mid his fullan griðe.”

324. Chron. Wig. 1050. “Swein eorl bæd Beorn eorl mid facne,” “ær he Beorn beswice.” Chron. Ab. 1049. “ær he Beorn amyrðrode.”

325. See vol. i. p. 588.

326. I think that by comparing the Abingdon Chronicle under 1050 with the Peterborough Chronicle under 1047, it will appear that Swegen was reinstated in this Gemót of Midlent 1050, one which I shall have to mention again.

327. Flor. Wig. “Swanus ... ibi mansit, quoad Wigornensis episcopus Aldredus illum reduceret, et cum Rege pacificaret.” This seems to imply that Ealdred brought him over in person.

328. The old diocese of Worcester took in the shires of Worcester and Gloucester and part of Warwick. Of these Gloucestershire was in Swegen’s Earldom, the rest in Leofric’s.

329. The reconciliation of Swegen with Eadward is mentioned by Thomas Stubbs (see above, p. 87) as an instance of the peacemaking powers of Ealdred, along with that of Gruffydd.

330. It is clear that the details of the murder could come only from Swegen himself, as his accomplices were killed by the Hastings men. Ealdred would be the obvious person for Swegen to confess them to. I do not suspect the Bishop of betraying the secrets of the confessional. A public crime like that of Swegen was doubtless followed by a public confession.

331. See above, pp. 90, 100.

332. Four, according to the Worcester Chronicle, two, according to Florence. The Abingdon Chronicle does not mention this last incident, and that of Peterborough passes by the whole story of Osgod.

333. Chron. Wig. “þa man ofsloh begeondan sæ.” Flor. Wig. “Quæ in transmarinis partibus captæ sunt, occisis omnibus qui in illis erant.”

334. Chron. Wig. “On Wylisce Axa.” Flor. Wig. “Ostium intrantes Sabrinæ, in loco qui dicitur Wylesc Eaxan appulerunt.” The “Welsh Axe” is of course the Usk. The rivers of the same name in Somersetshire and Devonshire had ceased to be looked on as Welsh.

335. On the details of this perplexing campaign, see Appendix I.

336. Ralph’s signatures seem to begin in 1050. See Cod. Dipl. iv. 123, 125. That in 121 is more doubtful. That in 113 Mr. Kemble marks as doubtful, but refers it to 1044–1047. But it must be spurious. It makes Eadsige Archbishop and Ælfgar Earl at the same time, as also Tostig, who was not an Earl till long after. See Appendix G.

337. Chron. Wig. 1050. “And hi comon unwær on heom, on ealne ærne morgen, and fela godra manna þær ofslagon; and þa oþre ætburston forð mid þam biscope.”

338. “Þæt micele mynster æt Rémys,” says the Worcester Chronicle, which might seem to mean the Metropolitan church; but Florence makes it plain that the Abbey is meant; “Rogatu eximiæ religionis Abbatis Herimari.... sancti Remigii Francorum apostoli monasterium, Remis constitutum, maximo cum honore dedicavit.” Cf. Will. Gem. vii. 15.

339. Ord. Vit. 575 A.

340. The presence of the Emperor is asserted by the Worcester Chronicle; “Þær wæs se Papa Leo and se Casere.” Florence does not speak of the Emperor, but says that Leo took with him “præfectum et digniores quosdam Romuleæ urbis.”

341. Chron. Petrib. 1046. “Þær wæs on Leo se Papa and se arcebiscop of Burgundia and se arcebiscop of Bysincun and se arcebiscop of Treviris, and se arcebiscop of Remis, and manig mann þærto ge hadode ge læwede.”

342. Chron. Petrib. 1046. “Eadward cyng sende þider Dudoce [the Abbots only and not Dudoc are mentioned by the Worcester Chronicle, 1050] ... þæt hi sceolden þam cynge cyðan hwæt þær to Christendome gecoren wære.”

343. Lambert, 1050 (see above, p. 99). Herm. Contr. 1050.

344. See above, p. 68.

345. Chron. Ab. 1049. “Forðferde Eadnoð se goda biscop on Oxnafordscire.” The same words seem to have dropped out of the Worcester Chronicle.

346. Chron. Ab. 1049. “Eadwerd cing geaf Ulfe his preoste þæt biscoprice, and hit yfele beteah.” Chron. Wig. 1050. “Ac he wæs syððan of adryfon, forþan þe he ne gefremede naht biscoplices þæron, swa þæt us sceamað hit nu mare to tellanne.” Flor. Wig. “Regis capellanus Ulfus genere Nortmannus.”

347. See vol. i. p. 368.

348. See vol. i. p. 570.

349. Chron. Petrib. 1047. “Her on þisum geare wæs mycel gemót on Lundene to midfestene, and man sette ut ix. litsmanna scipa, and fif belifan wið æftan.” The Abingdon Chronicle, 1049, to much the same account as that just quoted, adds the words, “and se cyng heom behet xii. monað gyld.”

350. Chron. Ab. 1050 (the chronology of this Chronicle is utterly confused); “and man geinlagode Swegen Eorl.”

351. See above, p. 108.

352. Chron. Ab. 1049. “On þæs cinges ærende.”

353. See the charter in Cod. Dipl. iv. 173, and the accounts in Æthelred of Rievaux, 379. Estorie de S. Ædward, 65 et seqq.

354. Besides the many exalted persons who followed the example of Cnut, some of whose pilgrimages are of historical importance, the prevalence of the fashion is shown by its incidental mention in more than one charter. Thus in Cod. Dipl. iv. 140 we find the mention of the Roman pilgrimage of a Lincolnshire Thegn whose name of Anskill or Anscytel witnesses to his Danish origin. (The charter may be quoted for such a point as this, though there is clearly something wrong in the signature of “Wulfwinus Lincolniensis episcopus.”) And at p. 141 we find “Leofgyva femina Lundonica” (a holder of property in Lincolnshire) dying on her way to Jerusalem.

355. Chron. Petrib. 1047. “On þysum ilcan geare wæs se myccla sinoð on Rome”—like our own “mycel gemót” just before.

356. Ib. “Hi comon þyder on Easter æfen.”

357. Vita Lanfr. c. 10. ap. Giles, i. 288. Will. Malms. iii. 284. Sig. Gemb. 1051. See Milman, Latin Christianity, iii. 24.

358. Æthel. Riev. ap. X Scriptt. 381. If the letter there given be genuine, the dispensation was granted by the authority of the synod as well as of the Pope. Eadward was either to build a new or restore an old monastery of Saint Peter; “aut novum construas aut vetustum augeas et emendes.” Cf. the French Life, 1601 et seqq., where the Bishops are both quartered on wrong sees, Ealdred prematurely at York, Hermann at Winchester. The story does not occur in the contemporary Life, p. 417.

359. See the first letter in Dr. Giles’ collection, p. 17.

360. Our ancient tongue appears to advantage in the pithy narrative of this affair given in the Peterborough Chronicle (1047); “And eft se Papa hæfde sinoð on Uercel, and Ulf biscop com þærto; and forneah man sceolde tobrecan his stef, gif he ne sealde þe mare gersuman; forðan he ne cuðe don his gerihte swa wel swa he sceolde.” Florence passes by the story; his Latin would be feeble after such vigorous English.

361. See above, p. 54.

362. Chron. Petrib. 1047. Flor. Wig. 1050.

363. Vita Eadw. 400. Ælfric was “secundum canonica instituta electus,” by a “petitio et electio ecclesiastici conventûs.”

364. Ibid. 399. “Ex supradicti ducis Godwini stirpe.”

365. Ib. 399–400. “Quem tam totius ecclesiæ universales filii quam ipsius monasterii monachi in archipræsulem sibi exposcunt dari, huncque et affectu communi et petitione eligunt præesse regulari. Mittunt etiam ad supradictum Godwinum, qui regio favore in eâ dominabatur parte regni, commonent eum generis sui, precantur ut ex affectu propinquitatis Regem adeat, et hunc, utpote in eâdem ecclesiâ nutritum et secundum canonica instituta electum, sibi pontificem annuat. Promittit fideliter pro viribus suis Dux inclitus, Regemque adiens innotescit petitionem et electionem ecclesiastici conventûs.”

366. Chron. Ab. 1050. “þa hæfde Eadward cing witenagemot on Lunden to Midlencten, and sette Hrodberd to arcebiscop to Cantwarebyrig, and Sperhafoc abbud to Lunden, and geaf Roðulfe biscop his mæge þæt abbudrice on Abbandune.”

367. See the Abingdon History, i. 463. He was a monk of Saint Eadmund’s, and was charged with alienating some of the lordships of the house to Stigand. The account of his promotion to London I do not fully understand; “Spearhavoc autem a Rege civitati Lundonensi [civitatis Lundonensis?] eodem prædictæ pactionis anno, in episcopatum promotus, dum auri gemmarumque electarum pro coronâ imperiali cudendâ, Regis ejusdem assignatione receptam haberet copiam.” Was Saint Eadward’s favour purchased by the materials of an earthly crown?

368. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “Mid þæs cinges gewrite and insegle.” See above, p. 67.

369. Rudolf’s kindred to the King is asserted more positively in the local Chronicle just quoted than in the local History (463); “Inde Rodulfum quemdam longævum abbatis loco ponendum Rex transmisit, qui episcopatum apud Norweiam gentem diu moderans, et tandem ab hujusmodi fasce privatum se agere malens, ad Regem ipsum suum, ut ferebatur, cognatum venit; a quo et susceptus est.”

370. Rudolf, in any of its forms, is not an usual English name, but it might occur, like the rare names of Carl and Lothar (Hloðhære). See vol. i. p. 334.

371. Adam Brem. iii. 16. “Rex Haraldus crudelitate suâ omnes tyrannorum excessit furores. Multæ ecclesiæ per illum virum dirutæ, multi Christiani ab illo per supplicia sunt necati.... Itaque multis imperans nationibus, propter avaritiam et crudelitatem suam omnibus erat invisus.” He goes on to give a full account of Harold’s dealings with the Archbishop of Trondhjem.

372. Hist. Mon. Ab. 463. “Ut vero tam Dei quam sui respectu eum monachi reciperent honorificèque tractarent, utpote summâ canitie jam maturum, eo discedente, licere eis dedit quem de suis vellent, potiùs successorem eligere. Paretur Regi. Reverentiæ subjectio debitæ a fratribus viro competenter impenditur. At ipsos regia nequaquam fefellit in posterum promissio.” Rudolf survived only two years.

373. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “Þæs sylfan Lentenes he for to Rome æfter his pallium.... Ða com se arcebiscop fram Rome ane dæge ǽr Sc̃s Petrus mæsse æfene, and gesæt his arcebiscopstol at Xp̃es cyrcean on Sc̃s Petrus mæssedæg, and sona þæs to þam cyng gewænde.”

374. The Peterborough Chronicle (1048) is here again very graphic; “Ða com Sparhafoc abbod to him mid þæs cynges gewrite and insegle (see above, p. 120); to þan þet he hine hadian sceolde to biscop into Lundene. Þa wiðcweð se arcebiscop, and cwæð þet se papa hit him forboden hæfde.”

375. Chron. Petrib. The pithy narrative of this writer is cut much shorter in the Worcester Chronicler (1051), followed by Florence; “Spearhafoc ... feng to þan biscoprice on Lundene, and hit wæs eft of him genumen ær he gehadod wære.” Florence turns this into, “Antequam esset consecratus, a Rege Eadwardo est ejectus.” Now the Chronicles do not at all imply that the refusal of Robert was at all the King’s personal act. Florence is perhaps confounding this business with the final expulsion of Spearhafoc later in the year, which he however places under another year.

376. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “Ða gewende se abbod to Lundene, and sæt on þam biscoprice, þe se cyng him ær geunnan hæfde be his fulre leafe.” This is one of those little touches which show the sympathies of the writer.

377. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “Ealne þone sumor and þone hærfest.”

378. Chron. Ab. 1050. “And þæs ylcan geare he settle ealle þa litsmen of male.”

379. Chron. Wig. 1052. “On þan ylcan geare aléde Eadward cyng þæt heregyld þæt Æþelred cyng ær astealde; þæt was on þam nigon and þrittigoðan geare þæs þe he hit ongunnon hæfde.” Flor. Wig. 1051. “Rex Eadwardus absolvit Anglos a gravi vectigali tricesimo octavo anno ex quo pater suus Rex Ægelredus primitus id Danicis solidariis solvi mandârat.” See vol. i. p. 391. The Heregyld is a tax for the maintenance of the here or standing army as distinguished from the fyrd or militia.

380. Chron. Wig. 1052. “Þæt gyld gedrehte ealle Engla þeode on swa langum fyrste swa hit bufan her awriten is; ðæt was æfre ætforan oðrum gyldum þe man myslice geald, and men mid menigfealdlice drehte.”

381. See Bromton, 942. Estoire de S. Ædward, 919 et seqq. Leofric is also Eadward’s partner in another vision. Æthel. Riev. X Scriptt. 389. Bromton, 949.

382. See Appendix K.

383. See vol. i. p. 366.

384. There is a grant of lands to Godwine (uni meo fideli Duci nuncupato nomine Godwino) as late as 1050. Cod. Dipl. iv. 123. The description of the grantee as “Dux” of course identifies him with the Earl.

385. The only absolutely certain instances that I can find at this time are the signatures of Earl Ralph in 1050. See above, p. 111. His name is added to doubtful charters at pp. 113, 121, and another doubtful one is signed by Robert the son of Wimarc, of whom more anon. The signatures of ecclesiastics, Rægnbold the Chancellor and others, are more common.

386. Ralph’s wife bore the name of Gytha, and their son was named Harold. Robert the son of Wimarc had also a son named Swegen, afterwards famous in Domesday. See Ellis, i. 433, 489. ii. 117. These names certainly point to a certain identification with England, and suggest the idea that the sons of Ralph and Robert were godsons of the two sons of Godwine.

387. See vol. i. p. 570.

388. See vol. i. p. 281.

389. “Nescia gens belli solamina spernit equorum,” says Guy of Amiens of the English (Giles, p. 38), but his following lines are, however unwittingly, a noble panegyric.

390. Thuc. iv. 40. ἀπεκρίνατο αὐτῷ πολλοῦ ἂν ἄξιον εἶναι τὸν ἄτρακτον (λέγων τὸν ὀϊστὸν), εἰ τοὺς ἀγαθοὺς διεγίγνωσκε.

391. Vita Eadw. 400. “Totius ecclesiæ filiis hanc injuriam pro nisu suo reclamantibus.”

392. Vita Eadw. 401. See vol. i. pp. 543, 573.

393. Vita Eadw. 400. See Appendix E.

394. See vol. i. p. 584.

395. Ord. Vit. 487 D, 655 C.

396. A daughter of Æthelred and Emma must have been thirty-five years old at this time, and she may have been forty-seven. Considering the position held by her son, Godgifu is likely to have been approaching the more advanced age of the two.

397. Will. Malms. ii. 199. “Collocutus cum eo, et re impetratâ quam petierat.” This perhaps comes from Chron. Petrib. 1048; “And spæc wið hine þæt þæt he þa wolde.”

398. Chronn. Wig. 1052, Petrib. 1048. See vol. i. p. 588.

399. I reserve an examination of the authorities for this narrative for the Appendix. See Note L. I here refer to the Chronicles only for details.

400. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “Ða he wæs sume mila oððe mare beheonan Dofran, þa dyde he on his byrnan, and his geferan ealle, and foran to Dofran.”

401. Thirty-one, reckoning from Godwine’s appointment as Earl of the West-Saxons in 1020. See vol. i. p. 469. If Godwine really became Earl of Kent in 1017 or 1018 (see vol. i. p. 451) two or three years more must be added.

402. Chron. Petrib. “Þa com an his manna, and wolde wician æt anes bundan huse, his unðances, and gewundode þone husbundon, and se husbunda ofsloh þone oðerne.” So Will. Malms. ii. 199; “Unus antecursorum ejus ferociùs cum cive agens, et vulnere magis quam prece hospitium exigens, illum in sui excidium invitavit.” I do not know why Mr. Hardy says that William implies that all this happened at Canterbury. Surely “per Doroberniam” means Dover.

403. Chron. Petrib. “Ða wearð Eustatius uppon his horse, and his gefeoran uppon heora, and ferdon to þam husbundon, and ofslogon hine binnan his agenan heorðæ.” It shows how impossible it seemed to a French noble of that age to strike a blow except on horseback, that Eustace and his companions mounted their horses at such a moment as this, when one would have thought that horses were distinctly in the way.

404. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “Forþan Eustatius hæfde gecydd þam cynge þet hit sceolde beon mare gylt þære burhwaru þonne his. Ac hit næs na swa.” So Will. Malms. “Inde ad curiam pedem referens, nactusque secretum, suæ partis patronus assistens, iram Regis in Anglos exacuit.”

405. Herod, vii. 104. ἔπεστι γάρ σφι δεσπότης νόμος, τὸν ὑποδειμαίνουσι πολλῷ ἔτι μᾶλλον ἢ οἱ σοὶ σέ· ποιεῦσι γῶν τὰ ἂν ἐκεῖνος ἀνώγῃ.

406. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “And wearð se cyng swyþe gram wið þa burhware.”

407. See above, p. 26.

408. “Baldwines mage” says the Worcester Chronicler; Florence (1051) alters this into “filia.” The Biographer of Eadward, p. 404, says “soror,” making her Eadward’s niece, which is hard to understand. It is from this passage that we learn that all this happened just at the very time of Tostig’s marriage; “Acciderant hæc in ipsis nuptiis filii sui ducis Tostini.” The title of “Dux” is premature.

409. Chron. Petrib. “And ofsænde se cyng Godwine eorl, and bæd hine faran into Cent mid unfriða to Dofran.” The full force of the word “unfriða” may be understood by its being so constantly applied to the Danish armies and fleets. See vol. i. p. 327. So William of Malmesbury (ii. 199); “Quamvis Rex jussisset illum continuò cum exercitu in Cantiam proficisci, in Dorobernenses graviter ulturum.”

410. See vol. i. p. 580.

411. Chron. Petrib. “And se eorl nolde na geðwærian þære infare; forþan him wæs lað to amyrrene his agene folgað.” One might be tempted to believe that this last word implied some special connexion between Godwine and Dover, were it not that we directly after read, “on Swegenes eorles folgoðe,” where it can hardly mean more than that the place was within his jurisdiction as Earl. The very first entry in Domesday represents Godwine as receiving a third of the royal revenues in Dover, but this was of course simply his regular revenue as Earl. The relations of the townsmen to the Crown are rather minutely described. They held their privileges by providing twenty ships yearly for fifteen days; each had a crew of twenty-one men. There is not a word to show that the demands of Eustace and his followers were other than utterly illegal.

412. I get my speech from William of Malmesbury (ii. 119), whose account is very clear and full, and thoroughly favourable to Godwine. “Intellexit vir acrioris ingenii, unius tantùm partis auditis allegationibus, non debere proferri sententiam. Itaque ... restitit, et quòd omnes alienigenas apud Regis gratiam invalescere invideret, et quòd compatriotis amicitiam præstare vellet. Præterea videbatur ejus responsio in rectitudinem propensior, ut magnates illius castelli blandè in curiâ Regis de seditione convenirentur; si se possent explacitare, illæsi abirent; si nequirent, pecuniâ vel corporum suorum dispendio, Regi cujus pacem infregerant, et Comiti quem læserant, satisfacerent: iniquum videri ut quos tutari debeas, eos ipse potissimum inauditos adjudices.” Here are the words which either tradition put into the mouth of Godwine, or else which a hostile historian deliberately conceived as most in keeping with his character. Who would recognize in this assertor of the purest principles of right the object of the savage invectives of William of Poitiers?

413. Will. Malms. ii. 199. “Ita tunc discessum, Godwino parvi pendente Regis furorem quasi momentaneum.” On these occasional fits of wrath on the part of Eadward, see above, p. 23.

414. The revival of the story about Ælfred and the special part played by Archbishop Robert comes from the Biographer of Eadward. I shall discuss this point in Appendix L.

415. The summoning of the Witan is distinctly set forth in the Peterborough Chronicle; “Ða sende se cyng æftre eallon his witan, and bead heom cuman to Gleaweceastre neh þære æfter Sc̃a Maria mæssan.” The charge against Godwine comes from the Life of Eadward, p. 401; “Ergò perturbato Rege de talibus plus justo, convenerunt de totâ Britanniâ [did any Scottish or Welsh princes appear?] quique potentes et duces Glaucestræ regio palatio, ubique in eo querimoniam talium habente, perlata est in insontem Ducem tanti criminis accusatio.”

416. Richard, the son of Scrob or Scrupe, and son-in-law of Robert the Deacon (Flor. Wig. 1052), appears in Domesday, 186 b. His son Osbern, of whom we shall hear again, appears repeatedly in Domesday as a great landowner in Herefordshire and elsewhere. See 176 b, 180, 186 b, 260.

417. See the entries in the Chronicles, Wig. 1066, Petrib. 1087, 1137. In all these passages the building of castles is reckoned among the chief grievances of the reign of the Conqueror and of the anarchy of the time of Stephen. Compare Giraldus’ description of Ireland, after the invasions in the time of Henry the Second. (Exp. Hib. ii. 34. vol. v. p. 865 Dimock); “Insula Hibernica, de mari usque ad mare, ex toto subacta et incastellata.” Cf. ii. 38, 39.

418. On the different developements of fortification in England, see vol. i. pp. 64, 338. The Norman castle makes the fifth stage.

419. See vol. i. pp. 99–101.

420. I shall have to speak of this destruction of castles in Normandy when I come to deal with the reign of William in that country. This is the real cause why Normandy contains so few castles earlier than the twelfth century. I can see no reason whatever to believe that the castles of the eleventh century, either in Normandy or in England, were commonly of wood. The temporary wooden towers which were often used in the military art of the time, and which sometimes are called castles, are also sometimes pointedly distinguished from the permanent stone fortresses. Thus in the Angevin Chronicle in Labbé, i. 286, 287, we read how in 1025 Count Odo of Chartres (see vol. i. p. 509, and in the next chapter) besieged the castle which Fulk of Anjou had built as an ἐπιτειχισμός against Tours (contra civitatem Turonicam firmaverat), and “turrem ligneam miræ altitudinis super domgionem ipsius castri erexit.” The donjon itself was surely of stone. We shall find other evidence of the same kind in the next Chapter. Stone was also fast coming into use for domestic as well as for military and ecclesiastical buildings. Avesgaud, Bishop of Le Mans, rebuilt in stone both the episcopal palace and also a hospital; before him they had been of wood—“quæ antea ligneæ fuerat, petrinas ... constituit.” Gest. Ep. Cenom. ap. Mabillon, Vetera Analecta, iii. 300*.

421. The word “castel” evidently appears at this stage to denote some new thing, quite distinct from the familiar “burh” of earlier times. So Orderic (511 C), in speaking of the rarity of castles in England before the Norman Conquest, speaks of the name as something specially French; “Munitiones (quas castella Galli nuncupant) Anglicis provinciis paucissimæ fuerant.” He adds, “ob hoc Angli, licet bellicosi fuerint et audaces, ad resistendum tamen inimicis exstiterant debiliores.”

422. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “þa hæfdon þa Welisce menn gewroht ænne castel on Herefordscire on Swegenes eorles folgoðe, and wrohton ælc þæra harme and bismere þæs cynges mannan þær abutan þe hi mihton.” These Welshmen are undoubtedly Frenchmen (see Earle, p. 345. Lingard, i. 337. Lappenberg, 508); Britons did not build castles, nor were they on such terms of friendly intercourse with King Eadward. William of Malmesbury’s misconception of the whole passage (ii. 199) is amusing; “ut Walenses compescerent qui, tyrannidem in Regem meditantes, oppidum in pago Herefordensi obfirmaverant, ubi tunc Swanus, unus ex filiis Godwini, militiæ prætendebat excubias.” This last is simply a misunderstanding of the words “on Swegenes eorles folgoðe,” which seems merely to mean “within Swegen’s government.”

423. Beverstone appears in Domesday (163) only as an appendage to the royal lordship of Berkeley, and is not mentioned as a possession of Godwine. Otherwise one would have expected to find one of the Earl’s many houses chosen as the place of meeting. But perhaps the suggestion in the text may explain matters.

On the other hand the mysterious connexion between Godwine and Berkeley (see Appendix E) must not be forgotten.

424. See above, p. 104.

425. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “Ða com Godwine eorl and Swegen eorl and Harold eorl togædere æt Byferesstane and manig mann mid heom, to ðon þæt hi woldon faran to heora cyne-hlaforde, and to þam witan eallon þe mid him gegaderode wæron, þæt hi þæs cynges ræd hæfdon, and his fultum, and ealra witena, hu hi mihton þæs cynges bismer awrecan and ealles þeodscipes.”

426. Vita Eadw. 401. “Quod ubi per quosdam fideles comperit [Godwinus], missis legatis, pacem Regis petivit, legem purgandi se de objecto crimine frustrà prætulit.”

427. Chron. Petrib. “Ða wæron þa Wælisce menn ætforan mid þam cynge, and forwregdon þa eorlas þæt hi ne moston cuman on his eagon gesihðe, forðan hi sædon þæt hi woldon cuman þider for þes cynges swicdome.”

428. Vita Eadw. p. 401. “Nam adeo super hujus sceleris fide animum Rex induxerat ut nec verbum aliquod oblatæ purgationis audire posset.”

429. Chron. Wig. 1052. “Ealle gearwe to wige ongean þone cyng, buton man ageafe Eustatsius and his men heom to handsceofe, and eac þa Frencyscan þe on þan castelle wæron.” “The castle” undoubtedly means Richard’s Castle, as it must mean in the entry of the next year in the same Chronicle. The Frenchmen in the castle are distinguished from Eustace and his men. So Lappenberg, 508. Florence (1051) clearly misunderstood the passage when he translated it “insuper et Nortmannos et Bononienses qui castellum in Doruverniæ clivo tenuerant.” It shows the impression which Richard’s Castle had made on men’s mind that it was known generally as “the castle,” and this reference by the Worcester Chronicler to a part of the story which he has not himself given at length is a strong confirmation of the truth of the Peterborough narrative.

430. Rog. Wend. iii. 294. “Juraverunt super majus altare, quod, si Rex leges et libertates jam dictas concedere diffugeret, ipsi ei guerram tamdiu moverent et ab ejus fidelitate se subtraherent.”

431. Flor. Wig. 1051. “Ob id autem ad tempus Rex perterritus, et in angore magno constitutus, quid ageret ignorabat penitus. Sed ubi exercitum Comitum Leofrici, Siwardi, et Radulfi adventare comperit, se nullatenus Eustatium aliosque requisitos traditurum constanter respondit.”

432. See vol. i. p. 534 et seqq.

433. Chron. Wig. 1052. “Wurdan þa ealle swa anræde mid þam cynge, þæt hy woldon Godwines fyrde gesecan, gif se cyng þæt wolde.”

434. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “And wæs þam eorle Godwine and his sunan gecydd, þæt se cyng and þa menn þe mid him wæron woldon rædon on hi. And hi trymedon gefæstlice ongean, þæh him lað wære þæt hi ongean heora cyne-hlaford standan sceoldon.”

435. See the splendid panegyric of William of Malmesbury on this region in the Gesta Pontificum (Scriptt. p. Bedam, 161). He especially speaks of the abundance of the vineyards and the excellence of the wine, which was not sour, as seemingly other English wine was, but as good as that of France. No wine is now grown in the vale of Severn, but there is excellent cider and perry.

On the prospect here spoken of see Sydney Smith’s Sketches of Moral Philosophy, p. 218.

436. See above, p. 110.

437. For descriptions of these two remarkable monuments of primæval times, by Dr. Thurnam and Professor C. C. Babington, see the Archæological Journal, vol. xi. (1854), pp. 315, 328.

438. Childe Harold, ii. 84;

“Spirit of Freedom, when on Phyle’s brow

Thou sat’st with Thrasybulus and his train,” &c.

439. See vol. i. p. 539.

440. Chron. Wig. 1052. “Þæt mycel unræd wære þæt hy togedere comon [see vol. i. p. 435], forþam þær wæs mæst þæt rotoste þæt was on Ænglalande on þam twam gefylcum; and leton þæt hi urum feondum rymdon to lande, and betwyx us sylfum to mycclum forwyrde.”

441. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “Ða gerædden þa witan on ægðer halfe, þæt man ða ælces yfeles geswác, and geaf se cyng godes grið and his fulne freondscipe on ægðre healfe.”

442. See Appendix L.

443. Ib.

444. So I infer from the Peterborough Chronicle, 1048; “Ða cwæð man Swegen eorl útlah, and stefnode man Godwine eorle and Harolde eorle to þon gemote.” The Worcester Chronicle puts it a little later, along with the demand for the hostages.

445. See above, p. 108.

446. Vita Eadw. 402. “Elaborante Stigando ... qui etiam tunc medius ibat, procrastinata est judicii dies, dum Rex suorum uteretur consiliou.”

447. Vita Eadw. 402.

448. Such on the whole I take to be the meaning of the very difficult expressions of the two Chroniclers, which I have discussed at length in Appendix L.

449. Chron. Wig. 1052. “And his wered wanode æfre þe leng þe swiðor.”

450. Vita Eadw. 402. “Eo [Rodberto] agente tandem a Rege prolata est in Ducem hæc indissolubilis caussæ quæ agebatur diffinitio; Illum scilicet à Rege tunc primùm posse sperare pacem, ubi ei reddidit vivum suum fratrem cum suis omnibus et quæ eis viventibus vel interfectis ablata sunt cum integritate eorum.”

451. Chron. Petrib. “Ða geornde se eorl eft griðes and gisla, þæt he moste hine betellan æt ælc þæra þinga þe him man onlede.”

452. William of Malmesbury (ii. 199), from whom I get the materials of Godwine’s answer, makes them call the Assembly “conventiculum factiosorum.”

453. Will. Malms. u. s. “Si veniant inermes, vitæ timeri dispendium; si paucos stipatores habeant, gloriæ fore opprobrium.”

454. Kemble, ii. 231. “They very properly declined, under such circumstances, to appear.”

455. Vita Eadw. p. 402. “Flente nimium episcopo Stigando, qui hujus legationis mœrens bajulus erat, reppulit à se mensam quæ adstabat, equis ascensis, viam ad Bosanham maritimam celeriùs tetendit.” This little touch, coming from a contemporary and friendly writer, increases our confidence in the story of the Biographer, difficult, as it is, at first sight to reconcile with the Chronicles.

456. Chron. Wig. 1052. “For ða on niht awæg; and se cyng hæfde þæs on morgen witenagemot.”

457. Chron. Wig. 1052. “Se cyng ... cwæd hine utlage, and eall here.” See above, p. 104.

458. Chron. Petrib. 1048. “And sceawede him mann v. nihta grið út of lande to farenne.” See vol. i. p. 561.

459. To “Bosenham,” according to the Peterborough Chronicler and the Biographer; to “Thornege,” according to the Worcester Chronicler and Florence. As it is of course the South-Saxon Thorney near Chichester (see Lappenberg, 509) which is meant, the two accounts no doubt merely refer to different stages of the same journey.

460. Vita Eadw. 404. “Tum pro antiquæ fœderationis jure, tum pro multorum ipsius Ducis beneficiorum vicissitudine.” One would like to know more of this connexion between Godwine and Baldwin. It is odd, when we think of the war of 1049, that the Biographer (p. 403) calls Baldwin “antiquum Anglicæ gentis amicum.”

461. See above, p. 134.

462. Chron. Wig. “Mid swa miclum gærsuman swa hi mihton þær on mæst gelogian to ælcum mannum.” Cf. Florence and the Biographer, 402. “Cum conjuge et liberis et omnibus quæ illius erant ad manum.”

463. “Cum magno honore.” Vita Eadw. 404.

464. Chron. Petrib. “And gesohton Baldewines grið, and wunodon þær ealne þone winter.” Vita Eadw. 404. “Hiemati sunt à Comite Baldwino in Flandriam.”

465. The younger members of the family, Wulfnoth, Ælfgifu, Gunhild, and Hakon the son of Swegen, are not mentioned. They doubtless accompanied Godwine and are included among the “liberi” of the Biographer.

466. See above, p. 100.

467. “Harold eorl and Leofwine,” says the Worcester Chronicle; the Biographer has “Haroldus et Leofricus.” See Appendix F. The Peterborough Chronicle mentions Harold only.

468. Vita Eadw. 404. “Transfretaverant in Hiberniam, ut, inde adductâ militari copiâ, patris ulciscerentur injuriam.”

469. See vol. i. p. 365. Compare also the passage about Bristol with which William of Malmesbury winds up his panegyric on Gloucestershire (Gest. Pont, in Scriptt. p. Bed. 161). “In eâdem valle est vicus celeberrimus Bristow nomine, in quo est navium portus ab Hiberniâ et Noregiâ et cæteris transmarinis terris venientium receptaculum, ne scilicet genitalibus divitiis tam fortunata regio peregrinarum opum fraudaretur commercio.”

470. Chron. Wig. 1052. “Harold eorl and Leofwine foran to Brycgstowe, on þæt scip þe Swegen eorl hæfde him silfum ær gegearcod and gemetsod.”

471. Chron. Wig. 1052. “And se cining sende Ealdred biscop of Lundene mid genge, and sceoldon hine ofridan ær he to scipe come. Ac hi ne mihton oððe hi noldon.” Compare the unwillingness of the Earls under Harthacnut to act against Worcester, vol. i. p. 581. According to the Biographer (403), Godwine was also pursued, through the devices of Archbishop Robert.

472. Chron. Wig. u. s.

473. Vita Eadw. 404. “Hiemati sunt à Rege Dermodo in Hiberniam.” These words at once explain the whole matter, and give us the true explanation of the otherwise difficult expression in the Peterborough Chronicle, “Harold eorl gewende west to Yrlande, and wæs þær ealne þone winter, on þes cynges griðe.” Sir Francis Palgrave (Hist. Ang. Sax. 342) takes this King to be Eadward, and says, “Harold crossed to Ireland, and he was so far favoured as to be allowed to remain in that country under the king’s protection. This fact should be noticed, because it seems to show that he was not considered as being out of the king’s dominions; or, in other words, that the opposité coast of Ireland was part of Eadward’s realm.” This is rather slight evidence, even with the further support of a spurious charter (see vol. i. p. 66), to prove that Ireland, or its eastern coast, was part of the English Empire. Lappenberg (510; Mr. Thorpe’s version, ii. 250, again does not represent the original) saw that, odd as the expression is, an Irish King must be meant, and now the Life of Eadward puts the matter beyond doubt. The “grið” of Diarmid answers to the “grið” of Baldwin.

474. Diarmid conquered the Fine-gall or Danish district in 1052, according to the Four Masters (ii. 860) and Dr. Todd (Wars of Gaedhil and Gaill, 291); in 1050, according to the Chronica Scotorum, 280. The incidental evidence of the Biographer shows the earlier date to be the right one.

475. Will. Malms. ii. 199. “Ne scilicet omnibus suis parentibus patriam suspirantibus sola sterteret in plumâ.” This odd phrase sounds like a real sneer of some contemporary Frenchman.

476. Vita Eadw. 403. See above, p. 47. Florence says “repudiavit.”

477. The Worcester Chronicle, Florence, and the Biographer do not mention the seizure of the Lady’s property. The Peterborough Chronicle says, “þa forlet se cyng þa hlæfdian, seo wæs gehalgod him to cwene, and let niman of hire eall þæt heo ahte on lande and on golde and on seolfre.” So William of Malmesbury; “Omnis reginæ substantia ad unum nummum emuncta.”

478. Both the Chronicles are quite colourless on this head; it is simply “man gebrohte,” “betæhte.” So William of Malmesbury. But Florence says “cum unâ pedissequâ ad Hwereweallam eam sine honore misit.” In the Life of Eadward (403), on the other hand, we read, “Cum regio honore et imperiali comitatu, mœrens tamen perducitur.” The narrative, addressed to Eadgyth herself, is here the better authority.

479. Wherwell, according to all our authorities, except the Biographer. He says Wilton. As he could hardly be mistaken on such a point, and as the evidence for Wherwell seems conclusive, we must set down Wilton as a clerical error.

480. The Worcester Chronicle, Florence, and the Biographer do not mention the kindred of the Abbess with the King; it is assumed by the Peterborough Chronicle and by William of Malmesbury.

481. On the daughters of Æthelred see vol. i. pp. 358, 363, 378, 458.

482. See vol. i. p. 341.

483. Vita Eadw. 397. See Appendix F.

484. Vita Eadw. 403. Twenty hexameters are devoted to the comparison.

485. Chron. Wig. 1052. “Þæt wolde ðyncan wundorlic ælcum men þe on Englalande wæs, gif ænig man ær þam sæde þæt hit swa gewurþan sceolde. Forðam þe he wæs ær to þam swyce up ahafen, swyðe he weolde þæs cynges and ealles Englalandes, and his sunan wæron eorlas and þæs cynges dyrlingas, and his dohtor þæm cynge bewedded and beawnod.”

486. See vol. i. pp. 448.

487. See Appendix G.

488. See Appendix G.

489. See vol. i. p. 338.

490. Chron. Wig. 1056. “Se wæs to munece gehadod ær his ende. god man and clæne and swiðe æðele.” Cf. Chron. Ab. and Fl. Wig. in anno. Florence seems to translate “clæne” by “virginitatis custos.” He built the present church of Deerhurst (see vol. i. p. 387), as an offering for the soul of his brother Ælfric. See Earle, p. 345.

491. Chron. Petrib. 1048. Will. Malms. ii. 199. “Comitatus ejus [Haroldi] attributus Elgaro, Leofrici filio, viro industrio; quem ille suscipiens tunc rexit nobiliter, reverso restituit libenter.”

492. The Biographer (401, 2) mentions his coming to Gloucester along with his father and Siward.

493. See above, p. 122.

494. Chron. Wig. 1052. Petrib. 1048. Flor. Wig. 1051.

495. Flor. Wig. 1052.

496. Chron. Wig. 1052. Flor. Wig. 1051.

497. In this Chapter I have had of course mainly to depend on the Norman writers as my authorities. The Latin writers are to be found in the great collection of Duchèsne. The first place is of course due to William of Poitiers. His Gesta Guillelmi has every advantage which can belong to the writings of a well-informed contemporary. But the work is disfigured by his constant spirit of violent partizanship (see above, p. 4). He must therefore be always followed with great caution, and in all purely English matters he is utterly untrustworthy. The beginning of his work is lost, so that we have no account from him of his hero’s birth and childhood. William Calculus, a monk of Jumièges, according to Orderic (Prol. ad Lib. iii. p. 458), abridged Dudo, and continued the History of Normandy, through the reigns of Richard the Good, Richard the Third, Robert, and of William himself down to the Battle of Senlac (Ord. Vit. 618 D), presenting his work to William himself. This portion of the existing work ends at lib. vii. c. 42. He seems afterwards to have added the account of William’s death (vii. 44), in which William of Poitiers and Guy of Amiens are spoken of. An eighth book, together with many interpolations in the earlier books, were added by a later hand, apparently by Robert of Torigny, Abbot of Saint Michael’s Mount, commonly called Robert de Monte (see Pertz, vi. 475). William of Jumièges begins to be a contemporary writer in William’s reign; with perhaps smaller opportunities of information than William of Poitiers, he is less violently prejudiced, and his work is of great value. His narrative forms the groundwork of the poetical history in the Roman de Rou. Its author, Robert Wace, Canon of Bayeux in the time of Henry the Second, seems to have been a really honest and painstaking inquirer, and I do not look on his work as being any the less trustworthy on account of its poetical shape. But of course, whenever he departs from contemporary authority, and merely sets down floating traditions nearly a hundred years after the latest events which he records, his statements need to be very carefully weighed. I have used M. Pluquet’s edition (Rouen, 1827) and the English Translation of part of the work by Mr. Edgar Taylor, whose genealogical and topographical notes are of great value. The other rhyming chronicler, Benoît de Sainte-More, is of a far more romantic turn than Robert Wace, and is therefore of much smaller historical authority. Still he also preserves many curious traditions. Orderic Vital, whose work becomes afterwards of such preeminent importance, is just now beginning to be of use, but as yet his main value is for information about Norman families and Norman monasteries. But his constant repetitions and utter lack of arrangement make him still more difficult to read or consult than William of Malmesbury himself.

498. Chron. Petrib. 1087. “Gif hwa gewilnigeð to gewitane hu gedon mann he wæs, oððe hwilcne wurðscipe he hæfde, oððe hu fela lande he wære hlaford, þonne wille we be him awritan swa swa we hine ageaton, þe him on locodan and oðre hwile on his hirede wunedon.”

499. See the article “Lucius Cornelius Sulla” in the National Review, January, 1862.

500. Chron. Petrib. 1087. “He wæs milde þam godum mannum þe God lufedon, and ofer eall gemett stearc þam mannum þe wiðcwædon his willan.” The former clause is rather oddly altered in the version of Robert of Gloucester (p. 374);

“To hem þat wolde his wylle do, debonere he was and mylde,

And to hem þat hym wyþ seyde strong tyrant and wylde.”

501. Chron. Petrib. 1087. “Betwyx oðrum þingum nis na to forgytane þæt gode frið þe he macode on þisan lande, swa þæt án man þe himsylf aht wære mihte faran ofer his rice mid his bosum full goldes ungederad.” This last is of course the same traditional formula which is used to set forth the good government of Eadwine, Ælfred, and others. The writer carries out the panegyric on William’s strict police at some length. All this is of course praise of exactly the same kind as that bestowed on Godwine and Harold. See above, pp. 34, 40, and the passages there referred to.

502. I conceive that this idea owes its prevalence mainly to the false Ingulf; still we have to account for the notion presenting itself to the mind of the forger.

503. See Palgrave, iii. 522.

504. On the surnames of William, see Appendix M.

505. Rod. Glab. iv. 6. “Fuit enim usui a primo adventu ipsius gentis in Gallias, ut superiùs pernotavimus, ex hujusmodi concubinarum commixtione illorum Principes exstitisse.” He goes on, if not to justify, at least to palliate, the practice, by the examples of the patriarch Jacob and the Emperor Constantius. British patriotism would perhaps not have endured that the mother of Constantine should be dragged down to the level of the mother of William.

506. See vol. i. p. 203.

507. See vol. i. p. 232.

508. For the sieges of Falaise in 1417 and 1450, see Monstrelet, i. 263 and iii. 30 b (ed. Paris 1595). Talbot was not actually present during the defence against the French King.

509. More probably, I think, of the twelfth than of the eleventh. Not that I at all think the building of such a castle to have been impossible in the eleventh century, but because it seems likely that Falaise was one of the castles which were destroyed and rebuilt in the wars of William and his successors. This point is well put by M. Ruprich-Robert, the architect employed by the powers which at present bear rule over Falaise and all Normandy in the “restoration”—that is, of course, the destruction—of this venerable keep. See his “Rapport,” 1864, p. 27.

510. Will. Brit. Philipp. lib. viii. Duchèsne, Hist. Franc. Scriptt. v. 183;

“Vicus erat scabrâ circumdatus undique rupe,
Ipsius asperitate loci Falesa vocatus,
Normannæ in medio regionis, cujus in altâ
Turres rupe sedent et mœnia, sic ut ad illam
Jactus nemo putet aliquos contingere posse.”

511. Stapleton, Roll of the Norman Exchequer, i. xcvi.; ii. cix.

512. See Appendix N. On the Birth of William.

513. Herod. iii. 2.

514. Malcolm’s History of Persia, i. 70.

515. Will. Malms. iii. 229. R. Wend. i. 469. Cf. Chron. Alberici, 1035 (ap. Leibnitz, Accessiones, ii. 66), and Appendix N.

516. Benoît de Ste. More, 31216 et seqq. (vol. ii. p. 555), who becomes rapturous in his description of her beauty. He makes Robert see her on his return from hunting. Local tradition, endowing Robert with a singular power of discerning beauty at a distance, makes him see her from a window of the castle.

517. Benoît, 31276.

518. Roman de Rou, 7998. Bromton, 910. Benoît, 31441 et seqq.

519. See Appendix N.

520. Will. Gem. vii. 3. “Willelmus ex concubinâ Roberti Ducis, nomine Herlevâ, Fulberti cubicularii Ducis filiâ, natus.”

521. Ord. Vit. 656 D.

522. Will. Gem. vii. 3. See Appendix N.

523. See Appendix N.

524. Roman de Rou, 8021. Will. Malms. iii. 229.

525. Ib. 8037. Will. Malms. iii. 229.

526. See Appendix N.

527. See vol. i. p. 479.

528. Will. Gem. viii. 36.

529. Ord. Vit. 566 B. “Conjugem nomine Herlevam ut Comes habuit, ex quâ tres filios Ricardum, Radulfum, et Guillelmum genuit, quibus Ebroicensem comitatum et alios honores amplissimos secundum jus sæculi distribuit.”

530. Ord. Vit. 566 C. This church was finished by Maurilius in 1063. Ib. 568 B. See Pommeraye, Concilia Ecclesiæ Rotomagensis, p. 73. Bessin, Concilia, p. 49. No part of the building remains. The account of the Archbishops of Rouen in Mabillon (Vet. Anal. ii. 438), written while Robert’s church was standing (“Ecclesiam præsentem miro opere et magnitudine ædificare cœpit”), gives him much the same character. “Ante obitum suum, gratiâ Dei præveniente, vitam suam correxit. Feminam enim reliquit, et de hoc ceterisque pravis actibus suis pœnitentiam egit, et sic bono fine, in quantum humana fragilitas capere potest, quievit.”

531. See vol. i. p. 514.

532. See vol. i. p. 508.

533. Will. Gem. vii. 7.

534. Will. Gem. u. s. Will. Malms. iii. 232. William of Malmesbury says “patruus ejus, sed nothus,” but William of Jumièges distinctly calls Papia the wife of Richard; “aliam uxorem nomine Papiam duxit.” So Chron. Fontanellense, ap. D’Achery, iii. 289; “Papia matrimonio Richardi potita.”

535. See vol. i. p. 518.

536. See vol. i. p. 518.

537. See Palgrave, ii. 536.

538. “Willame Talevaz,” according to the Roman de Rou, 8061. “Willelmus Talvacius,” Will. Gem. vi. 7.

539. Roman de Rou, 8062. “Ki tint Sez, Belesme, è Vinaz.”

540. Ivo, son of the elder William, a Prelate of whom Orderic draws a very favourable picture (469 D), did not scruple to attack and burn his own church, when it had been turned into a fortress by certain turbulent nobles. He tried to repair it, and reconsecrated it; but the walls, being damaged by the fire, fell down. He was then charged with sacrilege at the Council of Rheims, and defended himself by the necessity of the case. He was bidden by Pope Leo, as a penance, to rebuild the church. He went as far as Apulia, and even as Constantinople, collecting contributions and relics, and he began the work on such a scale that, forty years later, the efforts of his three successors had not enabled them to finish it. Will. Gem. vii. 13–15. No part of his building now remains.

541. Will. Gem. viii. 35. See Palgrave, ii. 313, 536.

542. Will. Gem. vi. 4. See vol. i. p. 518.

543. Will. Gem. vi. 7. “Ipse cunctis fratribus suis in omnibus flagitiis deterior fuit, et in ejus seminis hæredibus immoderata nequitia usque hodie viguit.” So vii. 10. “Hic à parentum suorum perfidiâ nequaquam sua retorsit vestigia.”

544. Ib. vii. 10.

545. Ib. Orderic (460 D) adds, “amputatis genitalibus.” These stories of the extreme wickedness of the house of Belesme are doubtless not without foundation, but one cannot help suspecting exaggeration, especially when we remember that Orderic writes in the interest of the hostile house of Geroy. This particular outrage of William Talvas can hardly be an invention; but it must surely have had some motive which does not appear in our authorities.

546. Ib. 12. The tale is that he one day went out with his followers (clientes) to rob, and seized on the pig of a certain nun (“inter reliqua porcum cujusdam sanctimonialis rapuit”). The holy woman pleaded earnestly for the restoration of her favourite (“gemens eum insecuta est, ac, ut porcellus quem nutrierat, sibi pro Deo redderetur, obnixè deprecata est”), but all was in vain; the oppressor killed the pig and ate him for supper. The same night he was strangled in his bed. In those times no alternative was thought of except a supernatural intervention, and an assassination by Arnulf’s brother Oliver. But our historian altogether rejects this last view, as inconsistent with the high character of Oliver, who passed many years as a brave and honourable knight, and at last died in the odour of sanctity as a monk of Bec.

This story contains nothing absolutely incredible; yet one is tempted to see in it a slightly ludicrous version of Nathan’s parable, assuming a form impossible under the elder dispensation. Arnulf too does not seem to have had even the poor excuse of the presence of a wayfaring man.

547. Roman de Rou, 8059 et seqq. Palgrave, iii. 149.

548. Will. Gem. vi. 12. “Robertum ergo archiepiscopum cum optimatibus sui Ducatûs accersivit.” This looks as if Robert were the only churchman present. See vol. i. p. 197. Wace (8081) gathers together Bishops, Abbots, and Barons, but perhaps only in conformity with the custom of his own time.

549. Roman de Rou. 8091 et seqq.

550. Roman de Rou, 8107 et seqq.

“Il est peti, mais il creistra,

E se Deu plaist amendera.

·       ·       ·       ·       ·

Cil est de vostre norreture.”

551. Ib. 8105.

“Par li cunseil el Rei de France,

Ki l’maintiendra o sa poessance.”

552. Will. Gem. vi. 12. “Exponens autem eis Willelmum filium suum, quem unicum apud Falesiam genuerat, ab eis attentissime exigebat, ut hunc sibi loco sui dominum eligerent, et militiæ suæ principem præficerent.” A good precedent for the congé d’élire and letter missive.

553. Will. Gem. u. s. “Juxta decretum Ducis protinùs eum promptâ vivacitate suum collaudavere principem ac dominum, pangentes illi fidelitatem non violandis sacramentis.” Cf. Roman de Rou, 8117 et seqq. The events which followed make one doubt as to the genuineness of the “prompta vivacitas.”

554. Roman de Rou, 8125.

“Li Dus por la chose afermer,
E por fere lunges durer,
Al Rei de France l’ad mené,
E par li puing li a livré;
Sun home le fist devenir
E de Normendie seisir.”

There is nothing however to imply that William stayed longer at Paris than was needed for the ceremony. It is an exaggeration when we read in the Winchester Annals (p. 19 Luard), “Willelmo filio Roberti Ducis juvenculo morante cum Rege Francorum in Galliis.” Rudolf Glaber (iv. 6) describes the accession of William in much the same way as the national writers; “Cui [Willelmo] antequam proficisceretur, universos sui ducaminis principes militaribus adstrinxit sacramentis, qualiter illum in Principem pro se, si non rediret, eligerent. Quod etiam statim ex consensu Regis Francorum Henrici unanimiter postmodùm firmaverunt.” Does the phrase “militaribus sacramentis” mean “on their knightly honour,” or is it merely a pedantic reference to the Roman military oath?

555. See vol. i. p. 529.

556. Will. Malms. iii. 230. “Clarissima olim patria, intestinis dissensionibus exulcerata, pro latronum libito dividebatur, ut merito posset querimoniam facere, ‘Væ terræ cujus Rex puer est.’” See Ecclesiastes x. 16. The same text is used by R. Glaber, iv. 5, with a more general application.

557. William of Jumièges (vii. 1) distinctly makes the building of these castles one of the main signs and causes of the general disorder of the country. “Sub ejus ineunte ætate, Normannorum plurimi aberrantes ab ejus fidelitate, plura per loca aggeres erexerunt, et tutissimas sibi munitiones construxerunt. Quarum dum auderent fisi munimine, protinùs inter eos diversi motus exoriuntur, seditiones concitantur, ac sæva patriæ incendia ubique perpetrantur,” &c. So William of Malmesbury (iii. 230); “Mox quisque sua munire oppida, turres agere, frumenta comportare, caussas aucupari quibus quamprimùm à puero dissidia meditarentur.” The “agger” is the “mote” or mound on which the Norman castles were so often built. The word came almost to be used for the castle itself. In the Roman de Rou, 8847, a knight is described as standing at his gate “Entre li mostier è sa mote,” that is, between the church and his own castle. According to Mr. Clark, the “agger” or “mote” was commonly an earlier earthwork made use of by the builders of the eleventh and twelfth centuries (Old London, p. 16). Yet the rebellious nobles are here clearly described as throwing up “aggeres” for the express purpose of building their castles, and we can hardly believe that the “tutissimæ munitiones” were of wood.

558. See above, p. 138.

559. Chron. Wig. 1066. “And Oda biscop and Wyllelm eorl belifen her æfter, and worhton castelas wide geond þas þeode, and earm folc swencte, and á syððan hit yflade swiðe.” Chron. Petrib. 1087. “Castelas he lét wyrcean, and earme men swiðe swencean.” The famous description of the castle-building in the year 1137 is familiar to readers even of the commonest English histories.

560. See above, p. 140.

561. See the story quoted in p. 185.

562. See vol. i. p. 526.

563. Roman de Rou, 8131;

“A Alain qui esteit sis huem,
Par l’Archeveske de Ruem,
Livra sa terre à cumandise,
Cum à senescal è justise.”

564. The “Turoldus” of William of Jumièges (vii. 2), and the “Turchetillus” of Orderic (656 C), certainly seem to be the same person.

565. See vol. i. p. 284.

566. Will. Gem. viii. 37. “Gislebertus fuerat filius Godefridi Comitis Aucensis, naturalis videlicet filii primi Richardi Ducis Normannorum.” See vol. i. p. 279.

567. See vol. i. p. 198. Gilbert is called “Comes Ocensis” by William of Jumièges (vii. 2), and the same writer (iv. 18) also says, “Licet Comes Gislebertus filius Godefridi Comitis ipsum comitatum parumper tenuerit, antequam occideretur.” But see Stapleton, i. lvi.

568. Will. Gem. vii. 33. “Alanum patrem meum apud Winmusterium in Normanniâ veneno peremisti.” But the Breton Chronicle in Morice (Memoires pour servir de Preuves à l’histoire de Bretagne) says only, “1039. Obiit Alanus Dux Britanniæ filius Gauffredi. 3 Kal. Oct.” Cf. Roman de Rou, 8139;

“Murut Alains a Normandie;

A Fescamp jut en l’Abéie.”

See Prevost’s note, i. 403.

569. Roman de Rou, 8136.

570. Orderic (567 A) says distinctly, “Alannum Comitem Britonum suique Ducis tutorem Normanni veneno perimere.”

571. Will. Gem. vii. 2. Will. Malms. iii. 230. “Interfecto Gisleberto a Radulpho patruele suo, ubique cædes, ubique ignes versabantur.”

572. This seems the meaning of the context of the passage from William of Jumièges quoted just above.

573. Ord. Vit. 686 D.

574. Will. Gem. vii. 2.

575. Ib. “In Normanniâ summoperè inserviebant diris facinoribus.”

576. Ib. viii. 37.

577. Ib. viii. 35.

578. Ib. vii. 16. See above, p. 185. William gives the daughters of Roger and Mabel a good character. Of the sons he says, “Illi ferales et cupidi, et inopum rabidi oppressores exstiterunt. Quam callidi, vel militares, seu perfidi fuerint, aut quantùm super vicinos paresque suos excreverint, iterumque sub eis pro facinoribus suis decederint, non est nostrum in hoc loco enarrare.”

579. Ib. “Præfata mulier erat corpore parva, multùmque loquax, ad malum satis prompta, et sagax atque faceta, nimiùmque crudelis et audax,” Above, vii. 10, she is “Mabilia, crudelissimæ sobolis mater.” So Ord. Vit. 470 A; “Præfata Mabilia multùm erat potens et sæcularis, callida et loquax, nimiumque crudelis.”

580. Ord. Vit. 667 B. “Rogerius Merciorum Comes.”

581. Will. Gem. vii. 2. See Palgrave, iii. 198. Stapleton, i. cxxvi.

582. Will. Gem. ib. “Deinde [after the death of Gilbert] Turoldus teneri Ducis pædagogus perimitur à perfidis patriæ desertoribus.”

583. This is the way in which I read the story in William of Jumièges (vii. 2), compared with that put into Duke William’s own mouth by Orderic (656 C). Sir Francis Palgrave seems to make Thorold and Osbern be murdered at once (199). But William of Jumièges seems to make these murders two distinct events. After the passage just quoted he goes on, “Osbernus quoque ... quâdam nocte, dum in cubiculo Ducis cum ipso in Valle Rodoili securus soporatur, repente in stratu suo à Willelmo Rogerii de Monte-gumeri filio jugulatus.” Orderic puts the murders of Gilbert, Thorold (or Thurcytel), and Osbern together in general terms; “Turchetillum nutricium meum et Osbernum Herfasti filium, Normanniæ dapiferum, Comitemque Gislebertum patrem patriæ, cum multis aliis reipublicæ necessariis fraudulenter interfecerunt.” The murder of Osbern can hardly fail to have been one of the occasions so pathetically referred to in Orderic; “Noctibus multotiens cognatorum timore meorum à Gualterio avunculo meo de camerâ principali furtim exportatus sum, ac ad domicilia latebrasque pauperum, ne à perfidis, qui ad mortem me quærebant, invenirer, translatus sum.”

584. Will. Gem. vii. 2. “Barno quippe de Glotis, præpositus Osberni, injustam necem domini sui cupiens ulcisci, nocte quadam expeditos pugiles congregavit, et domum, ubi Willelmus et complices sui dormiebant, adiit, ac omnes simul, sicut meruerant, statim trucidavit.”

585. See vol. i. p. 514.

586. Will. Gem. vii. 3. “Comperiens autem quod Willelmus puer in Ducatu patri successerit, vehementer indignatus est, et tumidè despexit illi servire, dicens quod nothus non deberet sibi aliisque Normannis imperare.”

587. See Will. Gem. vii. 3; viii. 37. Ord. Vit. 460 C.

588. Garnier, Vie de S. Thomas, 1830 (p. 66 ed. Hippeau); “E cil [quens] de Leicestre, ke mut par est senez.” So William Fitz-Stephen (i. 235 Giles); “Comes Legecestriæ Robertus, qui maturitate ætatis et morum aliis prominebat;” and Herbert of Bosham (i. 147 Giles); “Nobilis vir Robertus, tunc Leicestræ Comes, inter honoratos honoratior.”

589. Amicia, daughter of Robert, third Earl of Leicester, married Simon the Third, Lord of Montfort. She was the mother of Simon the leader of the Crusade against the Albigenses, and the grandmother of our own Simon the Righteous. See Pauli, Simon von Montfort, 19, 20.

590. Will. Gem. vii. 4. “Rodulphum de Wacceio ex consultu majorum sibi tutorem eligit, et principem militiæ Normannorum constituit.”

591. See above, p. 195.

592. The expressions of William of Jumièges (vii. 4) are remarkable; “Henricum igitur Regem Francorum adeunt, et titiones ejus per Normannicos limites hac illacque spargunt. Quos nominatim litteris exprimerem, si inexorabilia eorum odia declinare nollem. Attamen non alii exstiterunt, vobis in aure loquor circumstantibus, quam hi qui fideliores se profitentur et quos nunc majoribus Dux cumulavit honoribus.”

593. See vol. i. p. 247.

594. Vol. i. p. 272.

595. Vol. i. pp. 250, 269.

596. Vol. i. p. 519.

597. See above, p. 189.

598. See vol. i. pp. 187, 216.

599. Roman de Rou, 9907 et seqq. The great offence was calling the Normans “bigoz è draschiers.” The first name has given cause to much controversy; the second is said to mean drinkers of ale, a wholesome witness of their Teutonic descent. But cf. Æsch. Suppl. 930;

ἀλλ’ ἄρσενάς τοι τῆσδε γῆς οἰκήτορας
εὑρήσετ’, οὐ πίνοντας ἐκ κριθῶν μέθυ.

600. See vol. i. p. 189. The whole feeling between France and Normandy is best summed up in the passage from Wace referred to in p. 201, especially the lines,

“Sovent les unt medlé al Rei,
Sovent dient: Sire, por kei
Ne tollez la terre as bigoz?
A vos ancessors e as nos
La tolirent lor ancessor,
Ki par mer vindrent robéor.”

The feeling is thus represented as mainly a popular one.

601. See vol. i. pp. 509–511.

602. Art de verifier les Dates, ii. 670.

603. Will. Gem. vii. 5. “Duxit se placabilem ei nullo modo fore, quamdiu Tegulense castrum videret in pristino statu persistere.”

604. Will. Gem. vii. 5. “Cujus fraudes animi ob salutem pueri vitare cupientes, in fide stantes Normanni decreverunt fieri quod egisse postmodum pœnituit.”

605. On the family of Crispin or of Tillières see Stapleton, i. cxx.; ii. xliv. There is a special treatise, “De nobili Crispinorum Genere,” which will be found in Giles’ Lanfranc, i. 340. This Gilbert must not be confounded with Count Gilbert of Brionne, who seems also to be called Crispin. See Prevost, note on Roman de Rou, ii. 5.

606. Will. Gem. vii. 5. “Mox ut molestissimum agnovit decretum.”

607. Ib. “Exercitibus tam Francorum quam Normannorum contractis.”

608. Ib. “Gislebertus tandem, precibus Ducis victus, mœrens castrum reddidit.”

609. Ib. “Quod [castrum] sub oculis omnium sub maximo dolore cordis confestim igne concremari perspexit.” The speedy restoration of the fortress, of which we shall hear directly, shows what is really meant by this burning. That the castle was wholly of wood is inconceivable. But all the wooden appendages, all the roofs, floors, and fittings of the main building, were burned. The principal tower would thus remain dismantled, blackened, perhaps a little damaged in its masonry, but quite fit to be made available again in a short time.

610. Will. Gem. vii. 5. “Sacramenta quæ Duci juraverat ne à quoquam suo in quatuor annis reficerentur, irrita fecit.”

611. Ib.

612. Ib. vii. 6. “Turstenus cognomento Goz, Ansfridi Dani filius, qui tunc præses Oximensis erat.”

613. See vol. i. pp. 211, 216, 243, 262. Without trusting all Dudo’s details, there can be no doubt as to the general fact of these later settlements.

614. Will. Gem. vii. 6. “Zelo succensus infidelitatis, regales milites stippendiis conduxit, quos complices ad muniendum Falesiæ castellum, ne inde Duci serviret, sibi adscivit.” The presence of the French soldiers is thus plain enough, and their presence seems to imply the complicity of the French King; but there seems to be no sufficient authority for bringing in a second devastating invasion of the County of Hiesmes by Henry in person, as we find described in the Roman de Rou, 8526, where I do not understand Prevost’s note.

615. Will. Gem. vii. 6. He founded St. Gabriel’s Priory near Bayeux, the small remains of which are among the finest Romanesque work in Normandy. See De Caumont, Statistique Monumental du Calvados, i. 306.

616. See Will. Gem. viii. 38. Ord. Vit. 488 B, 522 A, B.

617. Will. Malms. iii. 240. “At ille, ubi primùm per ætatem potuit, militiæ insignia à Rege Francorum accipiens, provinciales in spem quietis erexit.”

618. See above, p. 172. William of Poitiers (Giles, Scriptt. Will. Conq. 80; Duchèsne, 179 B) gives him, as might be expected, a splendid panegyric. Among other virtues we read, “Summo studio cœpit ecclesiis Dei patrocinari, caussas impotentium tutari, jura imponere quæ non gravarent, judicia facere quæ nequaquam ab æquitate vel temperantiâ deviarent. Imprimis prohibere cædes, incendia, rapinas. Rebus enim illicitis nimia ubique, ut suprà docuimus, licentia fuit.” See also the later panegyrics on his administration of justice, p. 88, and on his piety in 113, to which I shall have again to refer.

619. See vol. i. p. 220.

620. Ord. Vit. 566, B, C. See above, p. 180.

621. Robert was succeeded at Evreux by his son Richard and his grandson William. On the death of William his inheritance passed to his sister Agnes, wife of Simon the Second of Montfort, ancestor of the great Simon. See the pedigrees in Duchèsne, pp. 1084, 1092, and Pauli, 19.

622. Will. Gem. vii. 7. Ord. Vit. 566 D. The verses on him in the series of Archbishops are,

“Malgerius juvenis sedem suscepit honoris,

Natali clarus, sed nullo nobilis actu.”

See, for a fearful description of his misdeeds, Will. Pict. 116 ed. Giles. Amongst other things, he never received the pallium. The list of Archbishops in Mabillon (Vet. An. ii. 439) says, “Non electione meriti, sed carnali parentum [parents in the French sense] amore et adulatorum suffragio in pueritiâ sedem adeptus est pontificalem; omni destitutus tutelâ, potiùs adquievit carni et sanguini quam divinis mandatis.”

623. Will. Pict. 118 Giles. Will. Gem. vii. 3, 17. Ord. Vit. 660 B. See Appendix N.

624. See vol. i. p. 230.

625. A son of Herlwin and Herleva could not be born before 1036; Odo therefore, at the time of his appointment, could not have been above twelve years old.

626. Will. Gem. vii. 17. Ord. Vit. 664 D.

627. See especially the portrait of him in Orderic, u. s. William of Poitiers (118 Giles) ventures to say, “Odonem ab annis puerilibus optimorum numero consona præconia optimorum inseruerunt. Fertur hic in longinquas regiones celeberrima fama; sed ipsius liberalissimi atque humillimi multa et industria et bonitas amplius meretur.”

628. Ord. Vit. 646 D. Here Odo is “præsumptor episcopus, cui principatus Albionis et Neustriæ non sufficiebat.”

629. Ib. 665 A. Up to this time scriptural names seem to have been hardly more usual in Normandy than in England. The sons of Archbishop Robert bore names of the usual Teutonic cast, but his successor Malger called his son Michael. Ib. 566 D.

630. On these works of Odo see Will. Gem. vii. 17. Ord. Vit. 665 A. Orderic’s words might seem to assert a more complete rebuilding of the cathedral than those of William. Orderic says, “Ecclesiam sanctæ Dei genitricis Mariæ à fundamentis cœpit, eleganter consummavit.” William has only, “Pontificalem ecclesiam in honorem sanctæ Dei genitricis Mariæ novam auxit.” Perhaps this means that he rebuilt it on a larger scale. It was consecrated, like many other Norman Churches, in 1077. Ord. Vit. 548 D. Compare the many dedications of English churches in 1258. See Matt. Paris, 449, 481, Wats.

631. Ord. Vit. 765 C.

632. Ord. Vit. 460 A. “Quisque potentum se derisione dignum judicabat, si clericos aut monachos in suâ possessione ad Dei militiam rebus necessariis non sustentabat.” So also Will. Gem. vii. 22. “Unusquisque optimatum certabat in prædio suo ecclesias fabricare, et monachos qui pro se Deum rogarent rebus suis locupletare.” Each adds a long list of the foundations of the time. The expressions “clerici” and “ecclesias fabricare” would seem to apply to parish churches also. But few parish churches of so early a date exist in Normandy. The great mass seem to have been built or rebuilt in the next century.

633. This seems recognized by William of Jumièges (vii. 22). Roger of Montgomery founded monasteries, “indignans videri in aliquo inferior suis comparibus.”

634. Ord. Vit. 547 C. “Ego de extremis Merciorum finibus decennis Angligena huc advectus, barbarusque et ignotus advena callentibus indigenis admixtus, inspirante Deo Normannorum gesta et eventus Normannis promere scripto sum conatus.” So 548 A; “De Angliâ in Normanniam tenellus exsul, ut æterno Regi militarem, destinatus sum.” See also pp. 579–581. His father Odelerius was a priest of Orleans. Of the importance of these passages I shall have to speak again.

635. See Orderic 492 B, and Appendix D.

636. Will. Gem. vi. 9. “A Danis igitur qui Normanniam primi obtinuere pater ejus originem duxit.” So Milo Crispin, Vitæ Abb. Becc. (Giles, Lanfranc, i. 261), who copies William. Both give the name Ansgotus. I know not why pedigree-makers (see one quoted by Taylor, Wace 209, and another in Sir A. Malet’s Wace 269) identify this Ansgod with “Crispinus of Bec.”

637. See above, p. 205.

638. See vol. i. pp. 191, 192.

639. Will. Gem. vi. 9. “Mater proximam Ducum Morinorum, quos moderni Flandros cognominant, consanguinitatem attigit.” Milo is satisfied with the description of “Ducum Flandriæ,” without the flourish about the Morini. Herlwin may thus have been, in the female line, a descendant of our Ælfred.

640. Milo, ap. Giles, i. 262. Orderic, 460 B. Herlwin, hard pressed in the battle, vows that, if he survives, he will serve God only—“nulli ulteriùs nisi soli Deo militaret.”

641. Milo, i. 264. The Count was seeking the destruction of some neighbour; “de cujusdam compatriotæ sui damno agens, quod in illius vergebat perniciem.”

642. Ib. “Continuò abripiuntur omnia sua, nec curat, vastantur quoque pauperes sui, unde non parvâ sollicitatur curâ.”

643. See the description in Orderic, 574 D et seqq. His words are remarkable. After describing the marriage or concubinage of the clergy and even of the Bishops, he goes on (575 A); “Hujusmodi mos inolevit tempore neophytorum, qui cum Rollone baptizati sunt, et desolatam regionem non litteris sed armis instructi violenter invaserunt. Deinde presbyteri de stirpe Dacorum litteris tenuiter edocti parochias tenebant, et arma ferentes laicalem feudum militari famulatu defendebant.”

644. Milo, i. 266. “Quidam monachus monachum pugno repercussum avertit, ac impulsum supinis dentibus demisit ad solum; adhuc enim, ut dictum est, omnes omnium per Normanniam mores barbari erant.”

645. Milo, i. 266, 267.

646. Will. Gem. vi. 9. Ord. Vit. 549 A. Herbert was Bishop of Lisieux from 1026 to 1050. He began to rebuild the Cathedral, which was finished by his successor Hugh. No part of their work remains.

647. Milo, i. 264, 265. The release of the lands seems implied in the foundation of the monastery.

648. Will. Gem. u. s. Milo, i. 265.

649. Will. Gem. u. s. “Ipse non solum operi præsidebat, sed opus ipsum efficiebat, terram fodiens, fossam efferens, lapides, sabulum, calcemque humeris comportans, ac ea in parietem ipsemet componens.” The church of Burneville then, like Cnut’s church on Assandun (see vol. i. p. 472), was clearly a minster of stone and lime. For a like example of humility, take Saint Hugh of Lincoln, who worked at the building of his own cathedral church. (Metrical Life of St. Hugh, ed. Dimock, p. 32.) Compare the penance imposed on Duke Godfrey for his sacrilege at Verdun; see above, p. 98. In somewhat the same spirit Edward the First worked personally in making the ditch at Berwick in 1296. Rishanger, ed. Riley, p. 375.

650. Will. Gem. u. s. “Ab eodem præsule sacerdos ordinatus atque Abbas constitutus est.” Cf. Milo, i. 267. The last writer seems to make Herlwin delay his monastic profession till the consecration of the church, but it seems from William of Jumièges and Orderic (549 A) that an interval of three years passed between his first profession and his ordination and benediction as Abbot. Milo himself, though in a confused way, recognizes an interval of three years.

651. Will. Gem. vi. 9. Milo, i. 265.

652. Milo, i. 268. “Simili se inibi propter Deum servituti nobilis mater ejus addixit, et concessis Deo prædiis, quæ habebat, ancillæ fungebatur officio.”

653. Chron. Becc. ap. Giles, i. 194. “Quia campestris et inaquosus est locus.” On the necessity of wood and water for monks, we have the witness of Orderic (461 A) in the case of his own house. “Locus iste,” says William the son of Geroy, “ubi cœpistis ædificare, habitationi monachorum aptus non est, quia ibi aqua deest et nemus longè est. Certum est quod absque his duobus elementis monachi esse non possunt.” The description of Bec in William of Jumièges enlarges on the advantages of the spot. It is “omni opportunitate humano usui commodus. Propter densitatem ac rivi recreationem, ferarum illic multus erat accursus.”

654. Will. Gem. u. s. “Locus, qui à rivo illic mananti Beccus appellatur.” So Chron. Becc. ap. Giles, i. 194; “Locus qui dicitur Beccus, et ita vocitatus à rivulo ibi decurrente, qui adhuc hodiernis temporibus decurrit juxta muros prati.”

655. It must be remembered that Herlwin’s first church at Bec was on a different site from the existing remains, which represent his second building.

656. Milo, i. 268. “Comes Gilbertus nil usquam eo saltu pretiosius possidebat.” The only human habitations in the valley were three mills, in two of which Herlwin had the right of a third part. Partly by gift, partly by purchase, he obtained possession of the whole valley. For his own gifts at Burneville and elsewhere, see his Charter in Neustria Pia, 437.

657. Will. Gem. vi. 9. Milo, i. 269. “Consecratâ, paucis exstructâ annis, non parvâ ecclesiâ, columnis ex ligneis claustrum construxit.” The church then was of stone.

658. Milo, i. 270. “Abbas peritus erat in dirimendis caussarum sæcularium controversiis, prudens in iis quæ ad exteriora pertinent, ... legum patriæ scientissimus.”

659. Will. Gem. vi. 9. Ord. Vit. 549 A.

660. Will. Gem. u. s. “Gentium transmarinarum summus Pontifex.” Milo, i. 275. “Gentium transmarinarum Apostolicus.” Ib. 272. “Summus antistes et in ecclesiis transmarinis vices apostolicas gerens.” See vol. i. pp. 146, 627.

661. Will. Malms. iii. 246. “Omnium gentium benignissimi advenas æquali secum honore colunt.”

662. Chron. Fontanellense (Saint Wandrille), ap. D’Achery, iii. 286.

663. Orderic’s description of him (519 A) begins, “Hic ex nobili parentelâ ortus, Papiæ urbis Italiæ civibus, ab annis infantiæ in scholis liberalium artium studuit, et secularium legum peritiam ad patriæ suæ morem intentione laicâ fervidus edidicit.” Gervase (X Scriptt. 1652), from whom we get the names of his parents, says, “natus in urbe Papiensi civibus egregiis et honestâ conditione; pater ipsius Hanbaldus, mater Roza vocabatur.” William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 116 b) says only, “non adeò abjectâ et obscurâ progenie oriundus erat.” Milo’s description (i. 281) points to a sort of nobility of the robe; “Parentes illius, ejusdem urbis cives, magni et honorabiles habebantur inter suos concives. Nam, ut fertur, pater ejus de ordine illorum qui jura et leges civitatis asservabant fuit.” Dr. Hook (Archbishops, ii. 74) refers to his letter to Queen Margaret of Scotland (Giles, i. 59), in which he calls himself “hominem extraneum, vilem, ignobilem.” A sort of civic nobility seems to reconcile the different descriptions.

664. I suppose that a knowledge of Greek is implied in the description given by William of Jumièges (vi. 9); “Ortus Italiâ quidam vir erat, quem Latinitas, in antiquum ab eo restituta scientiæ statum, tota supremum debito cum amore et honore agnoscit, nomine Lanfrancus. Ipsa quoque in liberalibus studiis gentium magistra Græcia discipulos illius libenter audiebat, et admirabatur.” The odd expression of “Latinitas” occurs also in the passage in the Saint Wandrille Chronicle just referred to. “Potestas secundi Richardi, velut amore diluculi, in toto Latinitatis orbe serena refulsit.” I suppose it takes in all nations of Romance speech.

665. See the quotation from Orderic just above, and Dr. Hook’s (ii. 75) discussion as to his exact position.

666. Ord. Vit. 519 A. “Adolescentulus orator veteranos adversantes in actionibus caussarum frequenter præcipitavit, torrente facundiâ appositè dicendo senes superavit. In ipsâ ætate sententias promere statuit quas gratanter juris periti aut judices aut prætores civitatis acceptabant.”

667. Milo, i. 282. “In primævâ ætate patre orbatus, quum ei in honorem et dignitatem succedere deberet.” Was Hanbald’s post, whatever it was, hereditary?

668. Dr. Hook (ii. 76, 80) discusses the question at length. I cannot infer from the use of the word “exsilium” by Orderic (519 A), that Lanfranc was driven from Pavia by any political revolution, any more than Orderic himself, when “tenellus exsul” in Normandy. See above, p. 216.

669. Chron. Becc. i. 195. Hook, ii. 77.

670. The sojourn at Avranches comes from Milo, i. 282. The other accounts seem to bring him to Bec at once.

671. The Bishoprick of Avranches is now merged in that of Coutances, and the cathedral is destroyed; Lisieux is also merged in Bayeux, but the cathedral remains.

672. Will. Gem. vi. 9. “Beccum itaque adiit, quo nullum usquam pauperius æstimabatur vel abjectius cœnobium.” Ord. Vit. 519 B. “Cœnobiolum Beccense loci situ et paupertate elegit.” Milo, i. 282, 283. “Locum adire nolebat, ubi litterati qui eum honori ac reverentiæ haberent.... Rogavit sanè ut vilius et pauperius cœnobium quod in regione nossent sibi demonstrarent.” Will. Malm. Gest. Pont. 116 b. “Multis diu locis circumspectis, ex omni abbatiarum copiâ Beccum apud Normanniam potissimùm elegit, paupertate loci et monachorum religione captus.”

673. The legend is found in a simpler form in Milo, i. 282, 283, and in a fuller shape in the Chronicon Beccense, i. 195, 196, followed by Hook, i. 81, 82. I do not see the chronological difference spoken of by the Dean, except that the Chronicler, like most of the other writers, leaves out the sojourn at Avranches. The two versions are worth comparing, as illustrating the growth of a legend, which is not the less plainly a legend because it contains nothing miraculous. The earlier form is the more consistent with the general story, as it represents Lanfranc as ignorant of Scripture and divine things. The meeting between Lanfranc and Herlwin is well conceived and well told.

674. Milo, i. 285.

675. Milo, i. 286. “Lanfrancum Priorem constituit, et quidquid ditioni monasterii subjacebat, interiùs et exteriùs ipsius curæ commisit.”

676. Ib. 284. “Vir sapiens sciens magis obedientiam Christo debere quam Donato, dimisit quod bene pronunciaverat, et dixit quod non rectè dicere jubebatur. Nam producere brevem vel longam corripere syllabam non capitale noverat crimen; verùm jubenti ex parte Dei non parere culpam non levem esse sciebat.”

677. Will. Gem. vi. 9. “Accurrunt clerici, Ducum filii [one would like to know their names], nominatissimi scholarum Latinitatis magistri, laici potentes, altâ nobilitate viri. Multi pro ipsius amore multas eidem ecclesiæ terras contulere.”

678. Will. Gem. vi. 9. “Adunatam etenim illic fratrum multitudinem quia domorum spaciositas jam capere non valebat, et quia situs loci degentium incolumitati contrarius exsistebat.”

679. William of Jumièges (u. s.) describes the work, and says that “post triennii completionem, solâ necdum completâ basilicâ,” Lanfranc became Abbot of Saint Stephen’s. This last appointment did not happen till 1066 (Ord. Vit. 494 B). Did the rebuilding not begin till 1063?

680. I reserve the account of Lanfranc’s connexion with William till I come to the history of the Duke’s marriage.

681. See above, p. 116.

682. See Hook, ii. 89.

683. Orderic (519 D) describes the work of Lanfranc against Berengar as “dilucido venustoque stilo libellum, sacris auctoritatibus ponderosum, et indissolubiliter constantem consequentiis rationum, veræ intelligentiæ adstructione de Eucharistiâ copiosum, facundo sermone luculentum, nec prolixitate tædiosum.” One could wish that the excellent Orderic had, in this last respect, imitated the work which he so much admired.

684. The whole early history of his house is given by Orderic at great length, 609 et seqq. So also Will. Gem. vii. 23.

685. Ord. 609 C. “Degens adhuc sub laicali habitu vitam instituerat ut nihil ab his discrepare videretur, quos imperium regulare coercebat.” His piety however was not wholly after the type of Eadward the Confessor, for we read (609 D), “conjugem, ut patris nomen haberet, acceperat.”

686. One legend of Saint Ebrulf (611 C) is the same as the well known story of Ælfred and his last loaf.

687. Ord. Vit. 623 C. “Olim dum Daci, qui adhuc pagani erant, cum Hastingo Neustriam vastaverunt, et rursus Rollone cum suis sæviente, plures ecclesiæ cum urbibus et oppidis desolatæ sunt; nos, suffragante Deo, in silvestri sterilique rure latuimus, et debacchantium gladios, licèt in timore nimio et egestate, sospites evasimus.” This must have been forgotten when it is said in Neustria Pia, p. 90, that Saint Evroul was ravaged by the Danes.

688. See vol. i. pp. 237, 238. Orderic gives his version of these events in p. 619. He calls Hugh “Hugo Magnus Aurelianorum Dux,” and Lewis receives his surname of “Ultramarinus,” which we do not find in contemporary writers. Most names of the kind were doubtless used in common discourse during the lifetime of the princes designated by them, but they did not find their way into written history till later.

689. Ord. Vit. 619 D, 622 D.

690. Ib. 621 B. “Rusticorum pecudes sive supellectilem non curaverunt; sed Uticensis hospitii memores, illuc reversi sunt, et ex insperato cum suis in cœnobium irruerunt.” Then follow the details of the plunder.

691. Ord Vit. 622 D.

692. Ib. 624 C. This holy man, like Orderic’s own father, was married. “Uticum perrexit, ibique cum conjuge et Ilberto filio suo primus habitavit.” (625 A.) He afterwards had a companion named Ingram. (461 A.)

693. Ib. 625 C, D.

694. He is described as “Ernaldi Grossi de Corte Sedaldi Abonii Britonis filii filius.” (Ord. Vit. 463 A.) He goes on to say that he “ex magnâ nobilitate Francorum et Britonum processit, mirâque probitate et audaciâ temporibus Hugonis Magni [clearly a mistake for Hugh Capet] et Roberti Regum Francorum nobiliter viguit.”

695. Ib. 463 A.

696. Orderic (464 A, B) tells a curious story about these lordships. When they were granted to Geroy, they were, by what accident does not appear, not included in the diocese of any Bishop. Geroy’s conscience was troubled at a state of things so contrary to all ecclesiastical rule. He accordingly inquired which of the neighbouring Bishops was the most worthy, and, hearing much of the virtues of Roger, Bishop of Lisieux (990–1024), he annexed his lands to that diocese. He procured however certain privileges for the clergy of his lordships, especially an exemption from the oppressive jurisdiction of the Archdeacons; “Ut clerici terræ suæ non irent ad placitandum extra potestatem eorum, nec opprimerentur injustis circumventionibus Archidiaconorum.” He might well make this stipulation, if the Archdeacons of his time were like those described by John of Salisbury some generations later (Ep. clxvi. ap. Giles, i. 260).

In Mr. Stapleton’s map Escalfoy is marked in the diocese of Lisieux, but Montreuil in that of Seez.

697. William of Jumièges (vii. 11.) makes him receive these lordships from Duke Richard, “Richardi Ducis, cujus dono in Normanniâ duo municipia obtinuit,” but it seems from Orderic (463 B) that the ducal grant was only a confirmation of the will of Helgo; “Liberalis Dux agnitâ virtute ejus honoravit, eique totam terram Helgonis hæreditario jure concessit.”

698. Will. Gem. u. s. “Ex his filiorum et nepotum militaris turma propagata est, quæ barbaris in Angliâ vel Apuliâ seu Trachiâ vel Syriâ nimio terrori visa est.”

699. Ib. vi. 7.

700. Compare his dealings with Herlwin, above, pp. 217, 218.

701. He held lands of Count Geoffrey of Mantes, who was taken prisoner by William Talvas, who required the destruction of the castle of Montacute as his ransom. This castle belonged to William the son of Geroy, who at once destroyed it to bring about the liberation of his lord. Ord. Vit.

702. Ord. Vit. 464 A. “Episcopales consuetudines Monasterioli et Escalfoii fundo habebat, nec ullus Archidiaconorum ibidem presbyteros ejusdem honoris circumvenire audebat.”

703. See above, p. 185.

704. 578 A.

705. According to William of Jumièges (vii. 23), he died at Gaeta on his return from a mission of some sort (pro quibusdam rationalibus caussis) to Apulia.

706. Ord. Vit. 461 A. Chron. Becc. i. 195. This is doubtless the grange which Lanfranc found greatly troubled by rats. His biographer (i. 284, 285) cites it as a proof of his humility that he personally carried a cat to make war upon them.

707. They were the sons of Robert of Grantmesnil (see above, p. 199) and Hadwisa, daughter of Geroy (Orderic, 465 B). After Robert’s death Hadwisa married William, son of Archbishop Robert. Their daughter Judith, having taken the veil, afterwards married Roger, Count of Sicily (484 B), but, as a punishment for her sacrilege, remained childless.

708. See above, p. 220.

709. William of Jumièges (vii. 23) puts into his mouth a long historical discourse, in which, I am sorry to say, he speaks of Charles the Simple as “filius Ludovici cognomine Nihil-fecit.”

710. Ord. Vit. 461 C et seqq., 625 D. Will. Gem. vii. 23. He was the only monk for whom the cruel Mabel had any reverence. Ord. Vit. 470 A.

711. See his character, Ord. Vit. 467 D; his intrigues, 474 C et seqq.; his election, 477 A. He began a new church, but did not finish it, 480 C. He also gave to the house (468 B) an illuminated psalter—doubtless of English work—which the Lady Emma had given to her brother Archbishop Robert. His son William seemingly stole it from his father, and gave it to his wife Hadwisa, mother of Robert of Grantmesnil; “de camerâ patris sui familiariter sustulerat, dilectæque suæ conjugi Hadwisæ omnimodis placere volens detulerat.” On Abbot Robert see also Will. Gem. vii. 26.

712. Ord. Vit. 481 B.

713. The whole story is given at some length in Neustria Pia, pp. 104–110. But remark the expression of William of Jumièges (vii. 23), “multos labores postea in procuratione servorum Dei perpessus est.” There were probably two sides to his story, as to most others.

714. Was the Truce of God ever preached, or ever needed, in England? I am not aware of any mention of it, unless the so-called Laws of Eadward, c. 2 (Schmid, 492), at all refer to it. See below, p. 238.

715. See above, p. 218.

716. See History of Federal Government, i. 128.

717. The account is in R. Glaber, iv. 5. “Tunc ergo primitùs cœpere in Aquitaniæ partibus ab Episcopis et Abbatibus, ceterisque viris sacræ religionis devotis ex universâ plebe, coadunati conciliorum conventus.” He goes on to give a summary of their legislation; “In quibus potissimum erat de inviolabili pace conservandâ, ut scilicet viri utriusque conditionis, cujuscumque antea fuissent rei obnoxii, absque formidine procederent armis vacui. Prædo namque aut invasor alterius facultatis, legum districtione arctatus, vel donis facultatum seu pœnis corporis acerrimè mulctaretur. Locis nihilominùs sacris omnium ecclesiarum honor et reverentia talis exhiberetur, ut si quis ad ea cujuscumque culpæ obnoxius confugium faceret, illæsus evaderet, nisi solummodò ille qui pactum prædictæ pacis violâsset, hic tamen captus ab altare præstitutam vindictam lueret. Clericis similiter omnibus, monachis, et sanctimonialibus, ut si quis cum eis per regionem pergeret nullam vim ab aliquo pateretur.” He adds some more purely religious provisions about fasting and the like.

718. R. Glaber, iv. 5. “Quibus universi, tanto ardore accensi ut per manus Episcoporum baculum ad cœlum elevarent, ipsique palmis extensis ad Deum, Pax, pax, pax, unanimiter clamarent. Ut esset videlicet signum perpetui pacti de hoc, quod spoponderant inter se et Deum.”

719. R. Glaber, iv. 5. “In hâc tamen ratione ut evoluto quinquennio confirmandæ pacis gratiâ id ipsum ab universis in orbe fieret mirum in modum.”

720. Ib. “Dehinc per Arelatensem provinciam atque Lugdunensem, sicque per universam Burgundiam usque in ultimas Franciæ partes, per universos episcopatus indictum est qualiter certis in locis à præsulibus magnatisque totius patriæ de reformandâ pace et sacræ fidei institutione celebrarentur concilia.” In Martène and Durand’s Thesaurus, i. 159, is a circular letter on the subject from Ragenbald, Archbishop of Arles, and other Burgundian Prelates.

721. Rudolf, under the year 1041 (v. 1, Duchèsne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt. iv. 55 A), recurs to the subject; “Contigit verò ipso in tempore, inspirante divinâ gratiâ, primitùs in partibus Aquitanicis, deinde paullatim per universum Galliarum territorium firmari pactum propter timorem Dei pariter et amorem. Taliter ut nemo mortalium, à feriæ quartæ vespere usque ad secundam feriam incipiente luce, ausu temerario præsumeret quippiam alicui hominum per vim auferre, neque ultionis vindictam à quocumque inimico exigere, nec etiam à fideijussore vadimonium sumere. Quod si ab aliquo fieri contigisset contra hoc decretum publicum, aut de vitâ componeret aut à Christianorum consortio expulsus patriâ pelleretur. Hoc insuper placuit universis, veluti vulgò dicitur, ut Treuga Domini vocaretur.” I conceive this relaxation to mark a change from the Pax Dei to the Treuga Dei. See Ducange in Treuga, and Palgrave, iii. 201. Something must be allowed to the inherent confusion of Rudolf’s way of expressing himself.

722. Hugo Flav. Chron. ap. Pertz, viii. 403.

723. Gest. Epp. Cam. ap. Pertz, vii. 474, 485. Gerard’s objections are given at great length, and are well worth studying, as a setting forth of the Regale and Pontificale. Some of the French Bishops seemed to have ventured on a pious fraud; “Unus eorum cœlitùs sibi delatas dixit esse literas, quæ pacem monerent renovandam in terra.” The chronicler of Cambray quite approves the opposition of the local Prelate; “Alia quoque importabilia quamplurima dederunt mandata, quæ oneri visa sunt replicare. Hâc novitate pulsatus mandati præsul noster, infirmitatique peccantium condescendens, secundùm decreta sanctorum patrum ad singula suum formavit eloquium.”

724. Hugo Flav. ap. Pertz, viii. 403. “Quam quum noluisset recipere gens Neustriæ, viro Dei Richardo prædicante, et ut eam susciperent, quia voluntas Domini erat, et à Deo non ab homine decretum, hoc processerat, admonente divino judicio cœpit in eos desævire ignis qui eos torquebat; eo anno ferè totus orbis [was the whole world plagued for the sins of Normandy?] penuriam passus est pro raritate vini et tritici. Sequuta est è vestigio mortalitas hominibus præmaxima ab inc. Dom. 1042.” This passage is made up out of R. Glaber (u. s.), where however Richard is not mentioned.

725. Hugo Flav. u. s.

726. The decree of the synod of Caen is given at length in the Concilia Rotomagensis Provinciæ, p. 39. The Fathers are stringent against “caballicationes et hostilitates.” The main decree runs, “In pace quæ vulgò dicitur Trevia Dei, et quæ die Mercurii sole occidente incipit, et die Lunæ sole nascente finit, hæc quæ dicam vobis promptissimâ mente dehinc inantea debetis observare. Nullus homo nec femina hominem aut feminam usquam assaliat, nec vulneret, nec occidat, nec castellum, nec burgum, nec villam in hoc spatio quatuor dierum et quinque noctium assaliat nec deprædetur nec capiat, nec ardeat ullo ingenio aut violentiâ aut aliquâ fraude.” See Roman de Rou, 10485 et seqq. The church of Sainte Paix at Caen was built to commemorate the event, but Prevost (note to Roman de Rou, ii. 99) places its building in 1061.

727. Will. Pict. 113 (Giles). “Sanctissimè in Normanniâ observabatur sacramentum pacis quam Treviam vocant, quod effrænis regionum aliarum iniquitas frequenter temerat.”

728. Ord. Vit. 552 A. It was confirmed again for Christendom generally at the Council of Clermont in 1095. Will. Malms. iii. 345.

729. Will. Pict. 80 (Giles). “Hujus vesaniæ signifer prosiluit Guido.” Will. Malms. iii. 230. “Sator discordiarum erat Guido quidam.”

730. Will. Pict. u. s. “A puerilibus annis cum ipso familiariter nutritus.” Will. Gem. vii. 17. “Crudelem convivam ... qui cum eo à puerilibus annis educatus fuerat.” Will. Malms. u. s. “Convictus familiaritatem, familiaritas amicitias, paraverat.” So Roman de Rou, 8758 et seqq.

731. See above, p. 194

732. See vol. i. p. 404.

733. William, in his autobiography in Orderic (657 A), is made to say, “Ille [Guido] verò verbis et actibus mihi derogavit, me nothum degeneremque et principatu indignum detestatus judicavit et hostiliter diffamavit.” Roman de Rou, 8770;

“De Willeame aveit grant envie,
Ki sor li aveit seignorie,
Cumenca sei à corucier,
Et Normendie à chalengier;
Reprovout li sa batardie.”

So again, 8782;

“N’i a, dist il, plus proçain eir,

Ki Normendie deie aveir:

Pere sa mere fu Richart,

D’espuse esteit, n’ert pas bastart.”

734. Roman de Rou, 8786;

“E ki li voldreit fere dreit,
Normendie li apendreit,
E se meintenir le voleient
Ensemle od li le partireient.”

So Will. Pict. 80. “Sed aut principatum aut maximam portionem Normanniæ ambiebat.”

735. Roman de Rou, 8896 et seqq.

736. See vol. i. p. 199.

737. See vol. i. p. 216.

738. Both Neals bear the title of Viscount of the Côtentin, but others also bore it in their lifetime. See Delisle, Histoire du Château et des Sires de Saint-Sauveur-le-Vicomte (Valognes, 1867), p. 23. The collection of Charters in this work is most valuable.

739. See vol. i. p. 330. The three chief conspirators, Neal, Randolf, and Hamon, are mentioned in various accounts. Will. Pict. 80. Will. Malms. iii. 230. Roman de Rou, 8748, 8778. William of Jumièges (vii. 17) speaks of Guy and Neal (“Nigellus Constantiensis præses”) only.

740. In 1040 or 1042. Delisle, p. 3.

741. The Abbey was founded by Neal himself in the next year, 1048, according to Neustria Pia, 540. Cotman, Antiquities of Normandy, i. 9. But what seems to be Neal’s foundation charter in Delisle (Preuves, p. 42; cf. 55, 59) is placed by him in 1080.

742. See vol. i. p. 243, for Harold Blaatand’s occupation of Cherbourg. I cannot however believe that Cherbourg is really “Cæsaris burgus.” Is it not rather the same word as Scarborough?

743. This very curious fact comes out in a Charter of the Abbey of the Holy Trinity at Caen, printed by Mr. Stapleton in the Archæologia, xxvi. 355. “Adeliza, Ricardi Comitis filia, Ricardi Comitis soror, contra eumdem prædictum fratrem suum, scilicet Robertum Comitem, castrum quid dicitur Hulme in Constantino situm cum omnibus ibidem pertinentibus mercata est. Quod postea Guido filius suus, injustè sibi auferens, dedit illud Nigello Vice-comiti.” See also Stapleton, Roll of Exchequer, ii. xxix. The charter bears date in 1075, when Adeliza was still living.

744. Roman de Rou, 8938.

745. Ib. 9182;

“Dan As Dens esteit un Normant
De fié è d’homes bien poissant,
Sire esteit de Thorignie
E de Mezi è de Croillie.”

On Creuilly church and castle, see Cotman, ii. 91. De Caumont, i. 320.

746. William of Malmesbury introduces him (ii. 230) as “Haimo Dentatus [Dan As Dens], avus Roberti quo nostro tempore in Angliâ multarum possessionum incubator exstitit.” Robert died of a wound received at Tinchebrai, 1106 (Will. Malms. v. 398), and his daughter Mabel married the famous Robert Earl of Gloucester (Hist. Nov. i. 3).

747. Benoît, 32, 742;

“Per cel Rannol de Beiesin,
E par Neel de Costentin,
E par Hamun uns Antecriz.”

The expression is very strange, but it is so taken by M. Le Cointe (see Appendix O), and I see not what else it can mean.

748. Taylor’s Wace, 11. Castle Rising is eminently the castle of dowager Queens, the earlier parts having been built for Adeliza, and the later for Isabella, mother of Edward the Third.

749. Roman de Rou, 8796;

“Issi unt lur chastels garniz

Fossez parcéz, dreciéz paliz.”

750. See above, p. 197.

751. See Roman de Rou, 9347 et seqq. For the present story see vv. 8800–8895, and Palgrave, iii. 212.

752. Roman de Rou, 8803. “Par li boiz chacié et bersé.” “Berser” is explained (Roquefort, Glossaire de la Langue Romaine) by “tirer de l’arc.” On William’s skill with the bow, see Will. Malms. iii. 279.

753. See above, p. 197.

754. On the church of Rye, parts of which may be as old as this time, see De Caumont, iii. 572.

755. Roman de Rou, 8846;

“Hubert de Rie ert à sa porte,
Entre li mostier et sa mote,
Guillame vit désaturné
E sun cheval tuit tressué.”

Hubert seems to have been an early riser and a good church-goer. The “mote” is the mound or “agger” (see above, p. 191), whence the name is sometimes transferred to the castle itself. Thus we find in the Gesta Com. Andeg. (D’Achery, iii. 257), “Domum munitissimam quæ usque hodie ‘Mota Fulcoii’ a vulgo vocatur.”

756. Ib. 8860 et seqq. I see no reason to doubt the general truth of the story, but there is a passage in the sequel which sounds mythical. William’s pursuers presently ask Hubert which way the Bastard is gone, and he puts them on a wrong scent (vv. 8874). This story is as old as the babyhood of Hermês.

757. On Eudes see Ellis, Introduction to Domesday, i. 415. Orderic (489 C) calls him “Normannici Ducis dapiferum, qui in pago Constantino divitiis et potestate inter Normanniæ proceres eminebat.” The good character of Eudes comes from the Colchester History of the Monasticon, iv. 607, which I shall have to refer to again. He married Roberia, daughter of Richard son of Count Gilbert (Ib. 608).

758. We learn the place of meeting from Orderic (372 A); “Unde coactus juvenis Dux Pexeium convolavit, ibique pronus ad pedes Henrici Regis corruit, et ab eo contra malefidos proceres et cognatos auxilium petivit.” So Roman de Rou, 8942;

“Par pleintes ke Willame fist,
E par paroles ke il dist,
Fist li Reis asembler son ost.”

Other writers are less eager to set forth William’s humiliation. William of Jumièges (vii. 17) says, “Necessitate coactus Henricum Francorum Regem expetiit pro subveniendi obtentu.” The Brevis Relatio (ap. Giles, Scriptt. 3) says simply, “Contulit se ad Regem Franciæ.” William of Poitiers (81) slurs over William’s application to the King, and takes no further notice of Henry’s share in the campaign, beyond adding, after his account of the battle, “Interfuit huic prœlio Franciæ Rex Henricus, victrici caussæ auxilians.”

759. The original writers of course do not greatly trouble themselves about the seeming inconsistency of Henry’s conduct. There is perhaps a slight touch of sarcasm in the words of William of Jumièges (vii. 17), “Tunc tandem Rex memor beneficii quod a patre ejus sibi quondam impensum fuerat, vires Francorum simul coëgit.” So William of Malmesbury knows no motive but pure gratitude (iii. 230); “Necessitas Regem tutorem excivit ut desperatis partibus pupilli succurreret. Itaque paternæ benevolentiæ recordatus, quod eum favore suo in regnum sublimaverat, apud Walesdunas in defectores irruit.” We then find ourselves in the thick of the battle. Orderic (372 A) seems to make it an act of simple magnanimity on the King’s part; “At ille [Henricus], ut erat clemens, desolato adolescenti compatiens, robur exercitûs Francorum excivit, et in Neustriam Duci auxiliaturus perrexit.” William, or Orderic, in the death-bed summary (657 E), leaves out the French aid altogether; “Tunc auxiliante Deo, qui justus judex est, inter Cadomum et Argentias hostes vici.”

760. Roman de Rou, 8997. “La s’asemblerent li cumunes.” For the list of the districts which helped William see vv. 8946 et seqq.

761. See Appendix O.

762. My account of the field and battle of Val-ès-dunes is drawn from an examination made on the spot in May, 1867. In company with Mr. J. R. Green, I went over the whole ground, Wace in hand. No modern description can do more than amplify Wace’s few topographical touches (Roman de Rou, 8978 et seqq.), and his minute and spirited account of the battle. Every detail shows in how thoroughly honest and careful a spirit he set to work. On the topography, see De Caumont, Statistique Monumental du Calvados, ii. 84 et seqq., and Appendix O.

763. I should greatly like to come across some explanation of this puzzling name (see De Caumont, i. 53). Nothing is more likely than a Teutonic colony anywhere in these parts, but such a colony would hardly be called Allemannia. The name is ancient, as it occurs in William’s foundation charter of Saint Stephen’s. See Neustria Pia, 626. The copy there is not very accurate, as I can witness from having (for once) examined an original manuscript.

764. Roman de Rou, 8986;

“Maiz encuntre soleil levant

Se funt la terre en avalant.”

765. Ib. 8982;

“Li plaines sunt lunges è lées,

N’i a granz monz ne granz vallées.”

766. Ib. 8988:

“Une riviere l’avirone,

Deverz midi è devers none.”

767. Roman de Rou, 8990;

“A Saint-Briçun de Valmerei
Fu la messe chanteé el Rei,
Li jor ke la bataille fu;
Grant poor i unt li cler éu.”

768. Ib. 9001.

769. Ib. 9004;

“La gent Willame fu à destre,
E Franceiz furent à senestre;
Verz ocident tornent lor vis,
Quer là sourent les anemis.”

770. Benoît, 33490;

“Or fait son estandart drecier,

La fu l’eigle d’or qui resplent.”

771. Roman de Rou, 9020;

“En sa main chescun un baston.”

772. Roman de Rou, 9012;

“Set vingz chevaliers out od sei
Tant dut aveir en sun cunrei,
Tuit aloent lances levées,
Et en totes guimples fermeés.”

773. Ib. 9042;

“Cil lor aveit ainz asseuré,
Et à Baex sor sainz juré,
Ke Guillame sempres ferreit
En kel lieu il le trovereit.”

One might wish that another oath on the saints at Bayeux could have found as easy and convenient fulfilment.

774. Ib. 9050;

“Guillame est son natural sire,
Et il sis homs ne puet desdire,
Pensa ke il li fist homage
Véant sun pere et sun barnage;
N’a dreit el fié ne à l’onor,
Ki se cumbat à son seignor.”

The feudal scruple is stronger in the minds of the inferior tenants, a point worth noticing, whether the tale be trustworthy in detail or not. This agrees with Wace’s former statement that, even in the revolted provinces, the popular feeling was on William’s side. The poor gentleman might need the protection of the common sovereign no less than the peasant.

775. I wish I could believe, with Thierry (i. 150) and Pluquet (Wace, ii. 32, 528), that this war-cry was an invocation of Thor, “Thor aie,” as opposed to the “Dex aie” of the French Normans. But I fear we must see in it nothing more profound or venerable than the lordship of Thury. See Prevost, Wace, p. 528, and Taylor, 21. Palgrave, iii. 216.

776. Examples of entrapping men to destruction by the literal fulfilment of an oath are common enough. This opposite case may be compared with Aurelian’s way of discharging his oath when besieging Thyana; “Canem in hoc oppido non relinquam.” The city was taken, and the Emperor slew all the dogs. Vopiscus, Aurelian, 22, 23 (Hist. Aug. ii. 472).

777. Arrian, vi. 11. 9. Ἀλλὰ πρὸς Γρανίκῳ μὲν ξυνέβη μαχὴ ἱππική. iv. 8. 11. ἡ ἱππομαχία ἡ ἐπὶ Γρανίκῳ.

778. Roman de Rou, 9074;

“Willame va par la campaigne;
Des Normanz meine grant compaigne,
Li dui Viscuntes vait quérant,
E li perjures demandant.”

779. Ib. 9094;

“Cil de France crient, Montjoie;
Ceo lor est bel ke l’en les oie;
Willame cri, Dex aie;
C’est l’enseigne de Normendie.”

780. See Taylor, 22.

781. See vol. i. p. 244. Wace seems rather to delight in opposing his own province to the French. 9108;

“El Rei de France et as Franceiz

Si vint ensemb Costentineiz.”

So 9128;

“Constentineiz è Franceiz sunt

Li uns as altres contrestunt.”

782. Roman de Rou, 9144;

“De ço distrent li païsant,

E dient encore en gabant:

De Costentin iessi la lance

Ki abati le Rei de France.”

I have found the rhyme remembered in a Norman cottage, close by the field of Val-ès-dunes.

783. See vol. i. p. 425. But William’s overthrow was real, though his death was imaginary; in the case of Eadmund all was an invention of Eadric. But the effect on the army would be the same in all three cases.

784. The narrative in the Roman de Rou (9134–9207) clearly implies that Henry was overthrown twice, first by a nameless knight of the Côtentin, secondly by Hamon himself. At the same time there certainly is, as Mr. Taylor (p. 25) says, a certain confusion in the way of telling the story, and one might be tempted to believe that the one overthrow was a mere repetition of the other. But each story seems to receive a certain amount of corroborative evidence. The first overthrow is supported by the Côtentin rhyme, the second by the independent testimony of William of Malmesbury (iii. 230); “Haimo in acie cæsus, cujus insignis violentia laudatur, quod ipsum Regem equo dejecerit; quare a concurrentibus stipatoribus interemtus.”

785. Roman de Rou, 9199. “Mez sor l’escu fu mort levé.”

786. Will. Malms. u. s. “Pro fortitudinis miraculo Regis jussu tumulatus est egregiè.” Wace (9200) mentions the place. He is buried “devant l’iglise,” seemingly not in the church.

787. Roman de Rou, 9258;

“Néel se cumbati cum pros;
Si tiex les trovast li Reis tos,
Mar i fussent Franceiz venuz,
Descunfiz fussent è veincuz.”

So again, 9280;

“Mais ço sai ke li Reis veinki.”

788. Ib. 9173;

“E Franceiz Normanz envaïr,

E Normanz torner è guenchir.

So 9266;

“Franceiz de tutes parz espeissent,

Normanz décheient è décreissent.”

We must remember that all the local feelings of Wace, a native of Jersey and Canon of Bayeux, would be on the side of the rebels, however much they might be balanced by loyalty to the memory of the great William.

789. Benoît, 33, 660;

“Hardrez uns chevalier hardiz,
De Baiues nez e norriz,
Preissiez d’armes e concuz.”

790. The anatomical precision of Wace (9222) is quite in the style of the Iliad;

“Willame verz li s’eslessa,
Un glaive tint, bien l’avisa;
Parmi li cors lez le menton,
Entre la gorge et le gotron,
Li fist passer le fer trenchant;
Ne li pout rien aveir garant,
Willame empoint è cil chaï,
Li cors envers, l’alme en issi.”

These are spirited lines; so is the whole description of the battle; yet how feebly does the Romance of Gaul, even in this its earliest and most vigorous shape, sound beside the native ring of the Ludwigslied and the Song of Maldon.

791. Roman de Rou, 9249. “La bataille mult li desplait.”

I suppose this means something more than mere sorrow at ill success; it seems to imply the loss of the “certaminis gaudia,” which he had doubtless enjoyed in the opening charge of the battle. Through the whole of this paragraph I do little more than translate the life-like description of Wace.

792. Roman de Rou, 9254;

“Lessa la lance è puiz l’escu,

Fuiant s’en vait, col estendu.”

793. Ib. 9288. “En Béessin volent torner.”

794. Roman de Rou, 9295–8. The Orne plays an important part in the destruction of the rebels in most of the accounts. Will. Pict. 81. “Absorbuit non paucos fluvius Olna equites cum equis.” Will. Gem. vii. 17. “Rex cum Duce ... tantâ eos illicò strage delevit, ut quos gladius non extinxit, Deo formidinem inferente, fugientes fluvius Olnæ absorberet.” Will. Malms. iii. 230. “Multi fluminis Olnæ rapacitate intercepti, quod, in arcto locati, equos ad transvadandos vortices instimularent.”

795. Ord. Vit. 657 B. “Guidonem vulneratum et de bello fugâ elapsum.”

796. The only writer, I think, who introduces Guy personally in his account of the war is William of Malmesbury (u. s.); “Cum his per totam Normanniam grassabatur prædo improbissimus, inani spe ad comitatum illectus.”

797. “E prœlio lapsus,” says William of Jumièges; “vix elapsus,” according to William of Malmesbury; while, in William of Poitiers, it rises to “turpissimè elapsus.”

798. “Cum magno equitatu,” says William of Poitiers (81).

799. The description given by William of Poitiers (u. s.) is remarkable; “Brionium ... contendit. Oppidum hoc, quum loci naturâ, tum opere inexpugnabile videbatur. Nam, præter alia firmamenta, quæ moliri consuevit belli necessitudo, aulam habet lapideam arcis usum pugnantibus præbentem, quam fluvius Risela nullo quidem tractu vadi impatiens circumfluit.” This seems to show that the town had fortifications of its own; and this again suggests the question, what was the state of the point overhanging the town where the present castle stands? The “aula lapidea” is a singular expression, seeming, together with the words which follow, to imply something different from the ordinary donjon, though capable of being put to purposes of defence,—a crenellated house, as it might have been called in later days. “Lapidea,” because an “aula” would doubtless be often of wood, while “arces” were of stone.

800. See above, p. 206.

801. Will. Pict. u. s. “Castella utrimque ad ripas fluminis bipartiti opponens.” So Will. Gem. “Stabilitis munitionibus in utrâque parte fluminis vocabulo Risle.”

802. Will. Pict. 81. “Oppugnatione diurnâ territans.”

803. William of Poitiers merely says “postremò.” Orderic (687 B), in describing the speedy capture of Brionne by Duke Robert in 1090, says, “Sic Robertus Dux ab horâ nonâ Brionnam ante solis occasum obtinuit, quam Guillelmus pater ejus, cum auxilio Henrici Francorum Regis, sibi vix in tribus annis subigere potuit, dum Guido filius Rainaldi Burgundionis post prœlium Vallisdunensis illic præsidium sibi statuit.” But there is nothing in any other writer to imply that Guy held out for any such length of time, and it seems quite inconsistent with the account of William of Jumièges. Moreover it is clear that Henry took no part in the siege; “Quem [Guidonem] Dux, Rege Franciam repetente, propere insequutus,” &c. (Will. Gem. vii. 17.)

804. Will. Pict. u. s. “Motus Dux consanguinitate, supplicitate, miseriâ victi, non acerbiùs vindicavit. Recepto castro, in curiâ suâ commanere eum concessit.” So Will. Gem. u. s.; “Dux, suorum consultu, miseriæ misertus, clementer illi pepercit, et, recepto castello Brioci, cum suis domesticis eum manere in domo suâ jussit.”

805. Will. Pict. u. s. “Supplicia item consociis, quæ capitalia ex æquo irrogarentur, condonare maluit ob rationabiles caussas.” This distinct statement cannot be shaken by the vastly inferior authority of Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. p. 759 C), who says, “Quosdam exsulavit, quosdam corpore minuit.”

806. See above, pp. 192–197, and compare the whole career of Eadric.

807. Compare the remarks of Palgrave, iii. 78.

808. William of Poitiers, speaking of a somewhat later stage of his life, has the words (p. 93), “More suo illo optimo, rem optans absque cruore confectum iri;” and he continues at length (94); “Monet equidem digna ratio et hoc memoriæ prodere, quàm piâ continentiâ cædem semper vitaverit, nisi bellicâ vi aut aliâ gravi necessitudine urgente. Exsilio, carcere, item aliâ animadversione quæ vitam non adimeret, ulcisci malebat: quos juxta ritum sive legum instituta cæteri principes gladio absumunt, bello captos vel domi criminum capitalium manifestos.” The words in Italics are clearly an euphemism for mutilation, as we shall see by his conduct at Alençon. So the Abingdon Chronicler (1076), speaking of his worst doings, tells us; “Sume hi wurdon geblende, and sume wrecen of lande, and sume getawod to scande. Þus wurdon þæs kyninges swican genyðerade.” Here is no mention of capital punishment, save in the case of Waltheof only.

809. Will. Pict. 82. “Dein ad jussum ejus festinanter ac funditùs destruxere munitiones novarum rerum studio constructas.” Will. Gem. vii. 17. “Conspicientes itaque cuncti optimates qui deviârant à Ducis fidelitate illum omne præsidium fugæ partìm destruxisse, partìm interclusisse, datis obsidibus, rigida colla ei ut domino suo subdidere. Sic castellis ubique eversis, nullus ultra ausus est contra eum rebellem animum detegere.”

810. Will. Pict. u. s. “Nigellum alio tempore [I do not understand this], quoniam improbè offensabat, exsilio punitum fuisse comperio.” Wace (9311) gives the place of his exile;

“Néel ne se pout acorder,
Ne el païz n’osa cunverser,
En Bretaigne fu lungement,
Ainz ke il fist acordement.”

Notwithstanding Wace’s “lungement,” he must have been restored in the next year, when we find him consenting to certain grants to the Abbey of Marmoutier which the Duke had made out of his estates in Guernsey (insula quæ appellatur Grenesodium) during his banishment. See the Charters in Delisle, Preuves, 21–25. By some evident slip of dictation or copying, Neel is made in Palgrave, iii. 217, to defend himself at Brionne instead of Guy. He died in 1092. Delisle, p. 24.

811. Will. Pict. u. s. “Guido in Burgundiam sponte rediit propter molestiam probri. Ferre apud Normannos pigebat vilem se cunctis, odiosum esse multis.”

812. Will. Pict. 82. Will. Malms. iii. 230. Mr. Thomas Roscoe, on the other hand (History of William the Conqueror, p. 61), tells us that “at a subsequent period he highly distinguished himself in the service of the duke, and headed a large body of veteran troops at the famous battle of Hastings.”

813. Roman de Rou, 9346;

“Se il le prist, il out raisun,
Kar il l’eust par traïsun,
Ce dist, à Valuignes murdri,
Quant un fol Golet l’en garni.”

814. Ib. 9362;

“A Baieues fu lors otréiée,
Quant l’iglise fu dediée,
De la terre Grimout partie
A Madame Sainte Marie,
Partie fu ki ke l’en die
Mise à chescun en l’abéie.”

See Pluquet and Taylor’s notes. The “abéie” must mean the cathedral church, but it was a great sacrifice to the rhyme for one of its canons to speak of it as an abbey. The grant of Plessis and other possessions “Grimoldi perfidi” to Odo and his successors in the see of Bayeux will be found in Gallia Christiana, xi. 64.

815. Will. Pict. 82. “Normanni superati semel universi colla subdidere domino suo, atque obsides dedere plurimi.”

816. Ib. 113. “Ejus animadversione et legibus è Normanniâ sunt exterminati latrones, homicidæ, malefici.... Caussam viduæ, inopis, pupilli, ipse humiliter audiebat, misericorditer agebat, rectissimè definiebat. Ejus æquitate reprimente iniquam cupiditatem vicini minùs valentis aut limitem agri movere aut rem ullam usurpare, nec potens audebat quisquam nec familiaris. Villæ, castra, urbes, jura per eum habebant stabilia et bona.”

817. The dependence of Anjou on the Duchy of France is acknowledged in a charter of Geoffrey Grisegonelle quoted in the Art de Verifier les Dates, ii. 833. He calls himself “Gratiâ Dei, et Senioris Hugonis largitione, Andegavensis Comes.”

818. On the Saxon occupation of Anjou, see Greg. Tur. ii. 18. Hist. Franc. Epit. 1, 2.

819. On the Saxons of Seez, the Saxones Diablintes, see Stapleton, i. xliii.

820. The history of the Counts of Anjou is given at length, but mixed up with much legendary matter in the early parts, in the “Gesta Consulum Andegavensium,” by an author of the time of Henry the Second, printed in D’Achery’s Spicilegium, iii. 234. It is introduced by a most curious fragment, namely a short Angevin history written or dictated by Count Fulk, nephew and successor of Geoffrey Martel. A lay historian is a phænomenon which we have not come across since the time of our own Æthelweard, and it is not to be denied that the Count shows much sounder sense, and a much nearer approach to historical criticism, than the monk of Marmoutier. He had at least one advantage in his princely rank, that he had nothing to gain by flattering his own forefathers.

821. Gest. Cons. 235. “Datus est ei et dimidius comitatus Andegavis civitatis ad defendendam regionem et urbem, sævisque prædonibus oppositus est, et Comes ibi factus.” So in the fuller account in p. 239, which adds, “quia ultrà Meduanam in Andegavo alter Comes habebatur.” The “sævi prædones” are explained to be Northmen and Bretons.

822. The authors of the Art de Verifier les Dates (ii. 828), as also Sir F. Palgrave (i. 502), place the enfeoffment of Ingelgar under Charles the Bald in the year 870. But the story in the Gesta Consulum (238 et seqq.) seems to make the reigning King to be Lewis the Stammerer. Count Fulk himself (233) describes the benefactor of his ancestor as “Rex Franciæ, non à genere impii Philippi, sed à prole Caroli Calvi.” Fulk had excellent reasons for the epithet bestowed on Philip. See Will. Malms. iii. 257.

823. Gest. Cons. 237. “Fuit vir quidam de Armoricâ Galliâ, nomine Torquatius, genus cujus olim ab Armoricâ jussu Maximi Imperatoris à Britonibus expulsum est. Iste à Britonibus, proprietatem vetusti ac Romani nominis ignorantibus, corrupto vocabulo Tortulfus dictus fuit.” We may be pretty sure that Tortulf, or something like it, of which his son’s name Tertullus seems another and happier Latinization, was the true name. Charles made Torquatius a forester, “illius forestæ quæ Nidus-meruli nuncupatur.” The writer goes on to talk about Senators and Emperors taken from the plough.

824. Gest. Cons. ib.

825. See vol. i. pp. 277, 278. The author of the Gesta Consulum becomes eloquent on this head (p. 237); “Tempore enim Caroli Calvi complures novi atque ignobiles, bono et honesto nobilibus potiores, clari et magni effecti sunt. Quos enim appetentes gloriæ militaris conspiciebat, periculis objectare et per eos fortunam temperare non dubitabat. Erant enim illis diebus homines veteris prosapiæ multarumque imaginum, qui acta majorum suorum, non sua, ostentabant; qui quum ad aliquod grave officium mittebantur, aliquem è populo monitorem sui officii sumebant, quibus quum Rex aliis imperare jussisset, ipsi sibi alium imperatorem poscebant. Ideo ex illo globo paucos secum Rex Carolus habebat; novis militaria dona et hæreditates pluribus laboribus et periculis acquisitas benignè præbebat. Ex quo genere fuit iste Tertullus, à quo Andegavorum Consulum progenies sumpsit exordium.” See Palgrave, i. 404, 500–502; cf. ii. 11.

826. Gest. Cons. 239. “Alodium enim cognationis eorum erat Ambazium villa.”

827. Count Fulk (p. 233) says, with much good sense, “Quorum quatuor Consulum virtutes et acta, quia nobis in tantum de longinquo sunt, ut etiam loca ubi corpora eorum jacent nobis incognita sunt, dignè memorare non possumus.” Ingelgar, in the legend (p. 239), slays the accuser of a slandered lady—in this case his own godmother and benefactress—much in the style of the ballad of Sir Aldingar or of the story of Queen Gunhild.

828. Gest. Cons. 235 (so 244). “Integrum comitatum, qui priùs bipertitus erat, recepit.” The Breton story (Chron. Briocense, ap. Morice, Memoires pour servir de Preuves à l’Histoire de Bretagne, pp. 29, 30) makes him—“vir maledictus et diabolicus”—marry the widow of the Breton prince Alan, and procure the death of her son Drogo.

829. See the story of Fulk and King Lewis From-beyond-Sea in the Gesta, p. 245. The proverb was a favourite with our Henry the First, and was at least approved by the Great William. See Will. Malms. v. 390.

830. “Grisa gonella” = “grisa tunica.” Gest. Cons. 246, 247.

831. See Appendix P.

832. Count Maurice, who, in the Gesta (249), comes between Geoffrey Grisegonelle and Fulk Nerra, finds no place in the list given by Fulk Rechin, and is rejected by the authors of the Art de Verifier les Dates.

833. See Appendix P.

834. See vol. i. p. 520.

835. According to R. Glaber (iii. 2), he sent assassins, who murdered Hugh, the courtier in question, before the King’s eyes. The murder is done, according to good English precedent, at a hunting-party, which perhaps makes the story a little suspicious. See vol. i. p. 366.

836. Fulk founded a monastery near Loches, in honour of the Cherubim and Seraphim, and applied to Hugh, Archbishop of Tours, to consecrate the church. The Primate refused, unless Fulk restored some alienated possessions of his see. Fulk then went to Rome with well stored moneybags, by the help of which he persuaded Pope John—which of all the Johns contemporary with Fulk we are not told—to send a Cardinal to consecrate it. The Bishops of Gaul were horrified at this invasion of their rights, and divine vengeance showed itself by the church being blown down on the night following its consecration. R. Glaber, ii. 4, copied in the Gesta Consulum, 251. Rudolf takes this opportunity to set forth his theory of the Papal authority, which is well worth studying, and which breathes in its fulness the spirit of the later Gallican liberties. The Bishop of Rome is the first of Bishops, but he may not interfere with the diocesan jurisdiction of any of his brethren.

837. On Fulk’s pilgrimage, see Fulc. Rech. p. 233. Gest. Consul. 252. Will. Malms. iii. 235. The Chronicler of Saint Maxentius makes him die, “ut dicitur,” on pilgrimage in 1032.

838. See at length Will. Malms. u. s.

839. See Art de Verifier les Dates, ii. 838.

840. Fulk, p. 233. “Propter quæ omnia bella, et propter magnanimitatem quam ibi exercebat, merito Martellus nominatus est, quasi suos conterens hostes.” William of Malmesbury (iii. 231) calls him “Gaufredus cognomento Martellus, quod ipse sibi usurpaverat, quia videbatur sibi felicitate quâdam omnes obsistentes contundere.” Another account makes the name derived from the trade of Geoffrey’s foster-father, a blacksmith, something like Donald of the Hammer in Scottish story.

841. On the whole story, see Appendix Q.

842. See the Chronicle in Duchèsne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt. iv. 97.

843. See above, p. 97.

844. See Appendix P.

845. See Appendix N.

846. Fulk (p. 233) describes the cession made by Theobald to Geoffrey, and adds, “Pars autem alia Turonici pagi sibi contigerât possessione paternâ.” We have seen that the Counts of Anjou held Amboise and Loches.

847. This grant is distinctly asserted, not only by Fulk (u. s.), “Ex voluntate Regis Henrici accepit donum Turonicæ civitatis ab ipso Rege,” but also by R. Glaber (v. 2), followed by Gesta Cons. 256, “Contigit ut ... Rex, ablato ab iisdem dominio Turonicæ urbis, daret illud Gozfredo cognomento Tuditi, filio scilicet Fulconis jam dicti Andegavorum comitis.” The Norman writers of course know nothing of all this, and make Geoffrey an unprovoked aggressor.

848. R. Glaber (v. 2) describes Geoffrey’s victory and the captivity of Theobald, and adds, “Nulli dubium est, beato Martino auxiliante, qui illum piè invocaverat, suorum inimicorum victorem exstitisse.”

849. On the captivity of Theobald, see Fulk, p. 233. Gesta Cons. (largely after R. Glaber), 256. Chronn. Andd. a. 1044, ap. Labbe, i. 276, 287. Will. Pict. 86. Will. Gem. vii. 18. Will. Malms. iii. 231. R. Glaber is also followed by Hugo Flav. (Labbe, i. 186. Pertz, viii. 403).

850. Will. Pict. 82. “Vicissitudinem post hæc ipse Regi fide studiosissimâ reddidit, rogatus ab eo auxilium contra quosdam inimicissimos ei atque potentissimos ad officiendum.” This writer is very confused in his chronology of the war, placing the details about Domfront and Alençon at a long distance from this passage which seems to record the beginning of hostilities.

851. Ib. “Cernebant Francigenæ, quod invidia non cerni vellet, exercitum deductum è Normanniâ solâ regio majorem, omnique collegio, quantum adduxerant vel miserant Comites plurimi.”

852. Ib. 83. “Rex ei quam libenter proponebat consultanda, et maxima quæque ad ejus gerebat sententiam, anteponens in perspicientiâ consulti melioris eum omnibus.”

853. Ib. “Unicum id redarguebat, quod nimiùm periculis objectabat se, ac plerumque pugnam quæritabat, decurrens palam cum denis aut paucioribus. Normannos etiam primates obsecrabat, ne committi prœlium vel levissimum ante municipium aliquod paterentur; metuens videlicet occasurum virtutem ostentando, in quo regni sui præsidium firmissimum et ornamentum splendidissimum reponebat.”

854. William of Poitiers’ theory of William’s rashness (83) is not very clear; “Cæterum quæ velut immoderatam fortitudinis ostentationem multoperè dissuadebat Rex atque castigabat, ea nos fervidæ atque animosæ ætati aut officio adscribimus.”

855. See vol. i. p. 200.

856. Gesta Dom. Ambasiens. ap. D’Achery, iii. 273. “Quidam Comes pernimium juvenis Herbertus, cognomento Evigilans Canem.” See Palgrave, iii. 240.

857. One might fancy from the words of William of Jumièges (vii. 18), “Cœpit Normanniam rapinis vehementer demoliri, intra Danfrontis castrum seditiosis custodibus immissis,” that Domfront was now Norman. But it is clear from William of Poitiers (86) that it was, as a town of Maine, in Geoffrey’s possession at the beginning of the war; “Willelmus ... adibat cum exercitu terram Andegavensem, ut reddens talionem primo abalienaret Gaufredo Damfrontum, post reciperit Alentium.” So William of Malmesbury (iii. 231), “Damfruntum, quod erat tunc comitis Andegavorum, obsidione coronavit.” So also Roman de Rou, 9382;

“Alençon ert de Normendie

E Danfronz del Maine partie.”

858. Will. Pict. 89. “Perhibent homines antiquioris memoriæ, castra hæc ambo Comitis Ricardi concessu esse fundata, unum intra alterum, proximè fines Normanniæ.”

859. See above, p. 186. So William of Malmesbury (iii. 231), “Pronis in perfidiam habitatoribus.”

860. Will. Pict. 87. “Deferre haudquaquam volebant dominum sub quo licenter quæstum latrociniis contraherint: quali caussâ fuerant seducti inhabitantes Alentium.” He then goes on with one of his panegyrics on William’s stern justice.

861. Ib. 86. “Inhabitatores ad se pronos reppererat.”

862. Ib. 87. “Ubi approximabatur Danfronto, cum equitibus divertit quinquaginta, acceptum quæ stippendium augerent.” But this curious euphemism for what one would have thought in those days hardly needed apology is explained in the next sentence, “Prædæ autem index castellanis prodidit ipsum quidam ex Normannis majoribus, intimans quò aut cur ierit, et quàm paucis comitatus, atque hunc esse qui mortem fugæ præferret.”

863. Will. Pict. 87. “Captum suis unum manibus retinuit.”

864. Compare, on the chances of treason near William’s person, those remarkable expressions of William of Jumièges (vii. 4) which have been already quoted in p. 200.

865. Will. Pict. 87. “Celerem irruptionem situs oppidi denegabat omni robori sive peritiæ; quum scopulorum asperitas pedites etiam deturbaret, præter qui angustis itineribus duobus atque arduis accederent.” There is here something of the Norman trust in cavalry; there is a feeling as if a place where horsemen were of no use had some unfairness about it.

866. Ib. “Castella circumponit quatuor.”

867. Will. Pict. 87. “Aliquando perdius et pernox equitans, vel in abditis occultus explorat, si qui offendantur aut commeatum advectantes, aut in legatione directi, aut pabulatoribus suis insidiantes.”

868. Ib. “Est regio illa silvis abundans ferarum feracissimis. Sæpe falconum, sæpissimè accipitrum volatu oblectatur.” The distinction between the use of falcons and that of hawks—did William stoop to the sparrow-hawk?—is worth the notice of those who are versed in the minuter technicalities of animal torture.

869. Ib. “Non loci difficultas, aut sævitia hiemis,” &c.

870. See above, pp, 185, 196.

871. See above, p. 198.

872. Will. Pict. 88. “Præsignat qualem in prœlio equum sit habiturus, quale scutum, qualem vestitum.” The device on the shield was therefore still left to the fancy of the wearer. Had the Counts of Anjou already possessed hereditary armorial bearings, the Normans could hardly have needed to be told what kind of shield Geoffrey would carry.

873. Ib. “Illi contra opus non esse respondent instituto eum itinere longiùs fatigari. Nam continuò propter quem vadit adfore. Equum vicissim domini sui præsignant, vestitum, et arma.” Here, it may be remarked, is no special mention of the shield; it comes under the general head of “arma.”

It is almost profanation to compare warfare of this sort with the patriot struggle at Maldon, yet there is in all this something analogous to Brihtnoth’s over-chivalry in allowing the Northmen to cross the river. See vol. i. p. 300. But Brihtnoth may after all have had a reason for his conduct. Cf. Herod. v. 118.

874. The reason given by William of Poitiers (u. s.) for the Duke’s special zeal is one of the most amazing things that I ever came across. “Omnium acerrimus ipse Dux inurget accelerantes. Tyrannum fortasse absumi desiderabat adolescens piissimus; quod ex omnibus præclaris factis pulcerrimum judicavit Senatus Latinus et Atheniensis.” The instances of Tyrannicide collected by Jean Petit (see Hist. Fed. Gov. i. 383) are strange enough, but the idea of William gaining the honours of a Timoleôn by slaying Geoffrey in battle beats them all.

875. Will. Pict. u. s. “Subitaneo tenore consternatus Gaufredus, adversâ acie necdum conspectâ, profugio salutem suam cum agmine toto committit.” Wace (9601) makes him make a little show of preparation for battle, but he presently yields to the wiser advice of a knight who counsels flight. Wace (9527–9628) puts this whole story later, after the taking of Alençon. He adds a third to the two messengers in William of Poitiers, namely William Fitz-Thierry (9539).

876. Will. Pict. 88. “Novit esse prudentium victoriæ temperare, atque non satis potentem esse qui semet in potestate ulsciscendi continere non possit.” William of Jumièges (vii. 18) adds another reason; “Ecce adsunt exploratores, Alencium castrum absque suorum detrimento eum capere posse nuntiantes.” This is his first mention of Alençon.

877. Roman de Rou, 9436 et seqq.

878. Will. Gem. u. s. “Totâ nocte equitans diluculo Alencium venit.”

879. William of Jumièges (u. s.) merely says, “In quodam municipio trans flumen posito.” Wace is much fuller (9440 et seqq.);

“Alençon est sor Sartre asiz,
Iloec devize le païz;
Normanz sunt devers li chastel,
Et ultre l’ewe sunt Mansel.”

He then goes on to describe the bridge and its defences.

880. Will. Gem. vii. 18. “Pelles enim et renones ad injuriam Ducis verberaverant, ipsumque pelliciarium despectivè vocitaverant, eò quod parentes matris ejus pelliciarii exstiterant.” So Wace, 9458;

“Willeame unt asez convicié;
Plusurs feiz li unt hucié;
La pel, la pel al parmentier,
Pur ceo ke à Faleize fu nez,
U peletiers aveit asez;
Li unt cel mestier reprocé,
E par cuntraire è par vilté.”

Wace seems to wish to evade the Duke’s actual kindred with the professors of the unsavoury craft.

881. Annales Angliæ et Scotiæ, ap. Riley, Rishanger, p. 373. The words were,

“Kyng Edward, wanne þu havest Berwic, pike þe,

Wanne þu havest geten, dike þe.”

Cf. Peter Langtoft, ii. 272. Hearne. Compare William’s indignation at the insults offered to him at Exeter (Will. Malms. iii. 248), though he seems to have been in a much less savage mood there than that at Alençon. Compare also the indignation of James the Second, at the indignities offered to him by the fishermen (Macaulay, i. 569), and that of William the Third at Sir John Fenwick’s impertinence to the Queen (Ib. iv. 34).

882. Roman de Rou, 9466;

“Jura par la resplendor Dé,

Co ert suvent sun serement.”

883. This very expressive formula comes from Wace, 9468;

“S’il pot cels prendre, malement

Lur sera cel dit achaté:

Des membres serunt esmundé.

Ne porterunt ne pié ne puing,

Ne ne verrunt ne preus ne luing.”

884. Roman de Rou, 9477.

885. Will. Gem. vii. 18. “Illusores verò, coram omnibus infra Alencium consistentibus, manibus privari jussit et pedibus. Nec mora, sicut jusserat, triginta duo debilitati sunt.” So Roman de Rou, 9489 et seqq. William of Poitiers is silent altogether both as to the vengeance and as to the insult. Neither subject was perhaps altogether agreeable to a professed panegyrist. But William cuts the whole story of Alençon very short.

886. Roman de Rou, 9493;

“El chastel fist li piés geter

Por cels dedenz espoanter.”

887. Will. Gem. vii. 18. “Custodes autem castelli tam severam austeritatem Ducis cognoscentes timuerunt, et ne similia paterentur, ilicò portas aperuerunt, Ducique castellum reddiderunt, malentes illud reddere quàm cum suorum periculo membrorum tam gravia tormenta tolerare.” Wace (9500) makes the terms

“Quitement aler s’en porreient;

Salvs lur membres è salvs lur cors.”

So William of Malmesbury (iii. 231); “Alentini se dedidere, pacti membrorum salutem.” But he had not mentioned the mutilation.

888. Will. Pict. 89. “Oppidum enim naturâ, opere, atque armaturâ munitissimum adeò currente proventu in ejus manum venit ut gloriari his verbis liceret, Veni, Vidi, Vici.”

889. Will. Pict. 89. “Percutit citissimè hic rumor Danfrontinos. Diffidentes itaque alius clipeo se liberandos post fugam famosissimi bellatoris Gaufredi Martelli,” &c.

890. Roman de Rou, 9624.

891. Ib. 9625;

“E li Dus fist sun gonfanon

Lever è porter el dangon.”

892. Will. Gem. vii. 18. Roman de Rou, 9631.

893. This Moretolium or Moretonium must be carefully distinguished from Mauritania, Moretonia, or Mortagne-en-Perche, in the Diocese of Seez.

894. William of Jumièges (vii. 19) merely calls him “Willelmus cognomento Werlencus, de stirpe Richardi Magni.” Orderic (660 B) calls him “Guillelmum cognomento Werlengum, Moritolii Comitem, filium Malgerii Comitis,” and Malger appears as an uncle of Duke Robert in Will. Gem. vi. 7.

895. Will. Gem. u. s. “Quidam tiro de familiâ suâ nomine Robertus Bigot.” The name Bigod or Bigot, which we have already seen (see above, p. 201) applied as a term of contempt for the Normans, has been connected with Rolf’s “English” (see vol. i. p. 191) oath, “Ne se bigoth.” Chron. Tur. ap. Duchèsne, iii. 360.

896. For the famous dialogue between Edward the First and the Earl Marshal Roger Bigod, see Walter of Hemingburgh, ii. 121 (ed. Hamilton). Could we suppose that either King or Earl spoke English (doubtless both understood it), one might see in the King’s oath (“Per Deum, Comes, aut ibis aut pendebis”) and the Earl’s retort (“Per idem juramentum, O Rex, nec ibo nec pendebo”) an allusion to the punning derivation of the name Bigod just mentioned.

897. See above, p. 205.

898. Will. Gem. vii. 19. “Per Richardum Abrincatensem cognatum suum familiaritatem Ducis consequutus est.”

899. Ib. “Seditiosis tumultibus Normanniam perturbare decrevisti, et contra me rebellans me nequiter exhæredare disposuisti, ideoque rapacitatis tempus egeno militi promisisti. Sed nobiscum, cum dono Creatoris, ut indigemus, maneat pax perennis.”

900. Will. Gem. vii. 19. “Sic tumidos sui patris parentes asperè prostravit, humilesque matris suæ propinquos honorabiliter exaltavit.”

901. The whole story is highly coloured by Sir F. Palgrave, iii. 224. William of Mortain may very likely have been guilty, but the evidence was very weak.

902. Will. Gem. u. s. “Nec negare potuit, neque intentionem dicti declarare præsumpsit.”

903. Ord. Vit. 534 B. “Ipse Guillelmum Guarlengum Moritolii Comitem pro uno verbo exhæredavit et de Neustriâ penitus effugavit.” This comes in the speech at the famous bride-ale of 1076, but the historian afterwards says in his own person (660 B), “Guillelmum cognomento Werlengum ... pro minimis occasionibus de Neustriâ propulsaverat.”

904. The grand old Teutonic name of Machthild had by this time become in Latin Mathildis, and in French mouths and in the mouths of Englishmen pronouncing French names, it became Mahtild, Mahault, Molde, Maud, and so forth. The name is familiar to students of Saxon history, and to the students, if there be any, of our own Æthelweard.

905. Concilia, ed. Labbe and Coss. ix. 1092. Stapleton, Arch. Journal, iii. 20. “Interdixit etiam Balduino Comiti Flandrensi ne filiam suam Wilielmo Nortmanno nuptui daret, et illi ne eam acciperet.” On this Council, see above, p. 112.

906. Chron. Wig. 1052. “Ða sone com Willelm Eorl fram geondan sǽ, mid mycclum werode Frenciscra manna; and se cyning hine underfeng, and swa feola his geferan swa him to onhagode, and let hine eft ongean.” See also Roman de Rou, 10539 et seqq., where however the journey is put much too late.

907. Flor. Wig. 1051. “His gestis Nortmannicus Comes Willelmus cum multitudine Nortmannorum Angliam venit, quem Rex Eadwardus et socios ejus honorificè suscepit, et magnis multisque donatum muneribus ad Nortmanniam remisit.” Roman de Rou, 10548;

“Et Ewart forment l’énora;
Mult li dona chiens è oisels
El altres aveir boens è bels.
E kanke il trover poeit
Ki à haut hom cunveneit.”

908. According to modern laws of succession, the heir of Eadward was undoubtedly Walter of Mantes, the son of his sister Godgifu, and elder brother of Ralph of Hereford. The Ætheling Eadward, it must always be remembered, was not, according to our notions, the heir of the King, but the King was the heir of the Ætheling. But, as female descent had never been recognized, one can hardly suppose that the children of Godgifu were looked on as Æthelings, or as at all entitled to any preference in disposing of the Crown. I am therefore justified in saying that Eadward had neither apparent nor presumptive heir. This is a principle to which I shall have to refer again.

909. See the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles, and Florence of Worcester, under 1066.

910. Namely Wace, quoted above, p. 295. He must have got his account from an English source.

911. When we come to Florence’s account of Harold’s election and coronation, we shall see how carefully every word is weighed, with the obvious intention of excluding some Norman misrepresentation or other. The fables about Harold seizing the crown, about his crowning himself, his being crowned by Stigand, and so forth, are all implicitly denied; so is Eadward’s alleged last bequest to William; but there is not a word to exclude either an earlier promise on the part of Eadward or an oath on the part of Harold, Both these subjects are avoided.

912. See vol. i. pp. 118, 291, 533.

913. I shall deal with these stories in my third volume.

914. See Appendix A.

915. See vol. i. pp. 209, 249.

916. See vol. i. p. 518.

917. I am indebted for the suggestion of Matilda’s descent from Ælfred as a possible element in William’s calculations to Lord Lytton’s romance of Harold. It is highly probable in itself, though I do not remember to have seen it put forward by any ancient writer. Matilda was lineally descended from Ælfthryth, daughter of Ælfred, wife of Count Baldwin the Second, and mother, I am sorry to say, of the wicked Arnulf.

918. I suppose that this would have occurred to every one as the obvious explanation of the difficulty, had not a passage of the false Ingulf been held to settle the question another way; “De successione autem regni spes adhuc aut mentio nulla facta inter eos fuit.” (Gale, i. 65.) Now certainly this strong negative assertion is one of those passages which for a moment suggest the idea that the forger had some materials before him which we have not. But so vague a possibility can hardly be set against the whole probability of the case. It is curious to see Lappenberg (ii. 251 Thorpe, 511 of the German) swaying to and fro between the obvious probability and the supposed authority of Ingulf. Before him, Prevost (Roman de Rou, ii. 100) had ventured, in the teeth of Ingulf, to connect William’s visit with Eadward’s alleged bequest.

919. See the Worcester Chronicle as quoted above, p. 294.

920. Chronn. Ab. Cant. 1051. Wig. Petrib. 1052. I need hardly remind any reader that the Old Minster is Winchester Cathedral. The bones of Cnut and Emma were among those which were so strangely exalted by Bishop Fox in the chests which surround the presbytery. Between him, Henry of Blois, and the Puritans, it is now impossible to distinguish the bones of Cnut from those of William Rufus.

921. There is nothing specially to remark on the authorities for this period, which are substantially the same as those for the seventh Chapter. We have still to look, just in the same way as before, to the Chronicles, the Biographer, and Florence, to William of Malmesbury and the other subsidiary writers. Just as before, when Norman affairs are at all touched on, the Norman writers should be compared with the English. During these years we have little to do with Scandinavian affairs, so that the Sagas are of little moment. Welsh affairs, on the other hand, are of unusual importance, and the two Welsh Chronicles, the Annales Cambriæ and the Brut y Tywysogion, or Chronicle of the Princes, must be carefully compared with our own records.

922. At the same time, it is worth considering whether the whole of the estates set down in Domesday as belonging to Godwine and his sons were always their private property, and whether some parts may not have been official estates attached to their Earldoms. Still, after any possible deductions, their wealth was enormous.

923. Vita Eadw. 404. “Et quoniam suprà diximus eum ab omnibus Anglis pro patre coli, subitò auditus discessus ejus exterruit cor populi. Ejus absentiam sive fugam habuere perniciem suam, interitum gentis Anglicæ, excidium insuper totius patriæ.”

924. Vita Eadw. 404. “Felicem se putabat qui post eum exsulari poterat.”

925. Ib. “Quidam post eum vadunt, quidam legationes mittunt, paratos se, si velit reverti, eum cum violentiâ in patriâ suscipere, pro eo pugnare, pro eo, si necesse sit, velle se pariter occumbere.”

926. Ib. “Et hoc accitabatur non clam vel privatim, sed in manifesto et publicè, et non modo à quibusdam, sed penè ab omnibus indigenis patriæ.”

927. Chron. Petrib. 1052. “Gerædde se cyng and his witan.” Abingdon and Worcester do not mention the Witan.

928. See above, p. 99.

929. Chronn. Ab. Wig. Petrib. The number of the ships, “xl. snacca,” comes from Worcester; the names of the commanders from Peterborough, “and setton Raulf Eorl and Oddan Eorl to heafodmannum þærto.” Florence seems to put these preparations later, after Harold’s landing at Porlock. But surely the choice made both by Gruffydd and by Harold of their points for attack, shows that the Earls of those districts were already absent with the fleet.

930. Chron. Wig. and Flor. Wig. 1052. This incursion seems not to be mentioned in the Welsh Chronicles. Its perpetrator is described only as “Griffin se Wylisca cing;” “Walensium Rex Griffinus;” but the King intended must be the Northern Gruffydd.

931. The Worcester Chronicle says, “þæt he com swyþe neah to Leomynstre.” Florence speaks of the harrying, but does not mention the place.

932. Chron. Wig. “And men gadorodon ongean, ægðer ge landes men ge Frencisce men of ðam castele.” So Florence, “Contra quem provinciales illi et de castello quamplures Nortmanni ascenderunt.” “The castle” is doubtless Richard’s Castle. Florence, who had mistaken the meaning of the Chronicler in the entry of the former year (see above, p. 142), now that he had got among Herefordshire matters, understood the description. Here again the expressions witness to the deep feeling awakened by the building of this castle.

933. Chron. Wig. 1052. “And man þær ofsloh swyþe feola Engliscra godra manna, and eac of þam Frenciscum.” (The French get no honourable epithet.) All this evaporates in Florence’s “multis ex illis occisis.”

934. See above, p. 56, and vol. i. p. 564.

935. I infer this from the way in which Harold’s expedition is spoken of as happening almost immediately (“sona,” “parvo post hoc tempore”) after Gruffydd’s victory, as if the two things had some connexion with each other.

936. Vita Eadw. 405. “Mittit tamen adhuc pacem et misericordiam petere a Rege domino suo [cynehlaford], ut sibi liceat cum ejus gratiâ ad se purgandum legibus venire coram eo.” See above, p. 142, and vol. i. p. 573.

937. Ib. “Hoc quoque pro ejus dilectione et suo officio missis legatis suis, Rex petit Francorum, et ipsum cum quo hiemabat idem persuadebat Marchio Flandrensium.”

938. See above, p. 17. Eadward and Baldwin had a common ancestor, though certainly a very remote one, in the great Ælfred. See above, p. 304.

939. Vita Eadw. 405. “Sed et illi hoc suggerebant satis frustra; obstruxerat enim pias Regis aures pravorum malitia.”

940. Ib. “Mediante proximâ æstate.”

941. See above, p. 100.

942. See above, p. 152.

943. Leofwine is not mentioned in the Chronicles, but his name is given by Florence, and the Biographer (405) speaks of “duo prædicti filii.”

944. The language of the Biographer is here remarkable. He had just before spoken of the people of the East and South of England as “Orientales sive Australes Angli.” He now calls the point where Harold landed “Occidentalium Britonum sive Anglorum fines.” So marked a change of expression cannot be accidental; it must point to the still debateable character of large parts of Somerset and Devon, neither purely Welsh nor purely English. Compare the significant use of the word “Britanni” by Thietmar, commented on in vol. i. p. 422.

945. I do not remember any mention in any ancient writer of this submarine forest on the Somersetshire coast; but a forest of the same kind on the other side of the British Channel is spoken of by Giraldus, Exp. Hib. i. 36 (vol. V. p. 284 Dimock). In the year 1171 a violent storm laid it bare.

946. The Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles (1052) have simply “neh Sumersǽtan gemæran and Dafenascíre” (see the same forms in the entries for the last year, and Appendix G); so Florence, “in confinio Sumersetaniæ et Dorsetaniæ” this last word being a mistake for Domnaniæ, as appears from the next sentence. The Peterborough Chronicle gives the name of the spot, “and com þa úp æt Portlocan.”

947. See Appendix R.

948. The Worcester and Abingdon Chronicles (1052) give the numbers; “And þær ofsloh má þonne xxx. godera þegena (“nobilibus ministris,” Flor.) butan oðrum folce.”

949. Chronn. Ab. and Wig. “Ægðer ge of Sumersǽton ge of Defenescíre.”

950. Chron. Petrib. “And nam him on orfe and on mannum and on æhtum, swa him gewearð.” Were these captives dealt with as conscripts or galley-slaves, or, considering whence the fleet came, were they intended for the Irish slave-trade?

951. Chronn. Ab. and Wig. “And sona æfter þan for abutan Penwiðsteort.” Chron. Petrib. “And gewende him þa eastweard to his feder.”

952. Vita Eadw. 405. See Appendix R.

953. On the narratives of Godwine’s return, see Appendix S.

954. Chron. Petrib. 1052. “Ða gewende Godwine eorl út fram Brycge mid his scipum to Yseran;” so the Biographer (405), “paratâ multiplici classe in fluvio Hysarâ.” It is clearly not Gesoriacum or Boulogne, as Mr. Earle makes it in his Glossary.

955. Chron. Petrib. “And let út ane dæge ær midsumeres mæsse æfene [“mediante æstate,” Vit. Eadw.] þæt he com to Næsse, þe is be suðan Rumenea.”

956. William of Malmesbury (ii. 199) makes Eadward himself present; “Nec segnem sensit Regem illa necessitas quin ipse in navi pernoctaret, et latronum exitus specularetur, sedulo explens consilio quod manu nequibat præ senio.” Eadward was now fifty at the most, and his presence is hardly possible, according to the authentic narratives. Eadward’s presence with the fleet is distinctly marked in 1049 (see above, p. 99), but not now.

957. Chron. Petrib. “And wearð þæt wæder swiðe strang þæt þa eorlas ne mihton gewitan hwet Godwine eorl gefaren hæfde.” The ignorance could hardly fail to be mutual. So William of Malmesbury (u. s.); “Quum cominùs ventum esset, et jam penè manus consererentur, nebula densissima repente coorta furentum obtutus confudit, miseramque mortalium audaciam compescuit.” William had just got one of his fits of fine writing upon him.

958. Chron. Ab. “He [Godwine] heom ætbærst, and him sylfan gebearh þær þær he þa mihte.” So Florence; “Quo in loco potuit se occultavit.” But Peterborough says expressly, “And gewende þa Godwine eorl út agean þæt he com eft to Brycge;” and so William of Malmesbury; “Denique Godwinus ejusque comites eo unde venerant vento cogente reducti.” Mark the cadence of an hexameter.

959. Chron. Petrib. “And sceolde man setton oðre eorlas and oðre hasæton to þam scipum.” Mr. Thorpe translates “hasæton” by “chief officers,” Mr. Earle by “rowers.” I commonly bow to Mr. Earle’s authority on such matters; but the other version seems to make better sense.

960. See vol. i. p. 426 note.

961. See Appendix R.

962. Vita Eadw. 405.

963. On Hastings, as distinct from Sussex, see vol. i. p. 382.

964. “Eallne þæne east ende,” says the Abingdon Chronicle (cf. the words “ofer ealne þisne norð ende” in the Worcester Chronicle, 1052 or 1051), which Florence translates by “East-Saxones.”

965. Chron. Ab. “Þa cwædon ealle þæt hi mid him woldon licgan and lybban.” I transfer these emphatic words hither from the earlier place which they have in the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles, and in Florence. See Appendix S.

966. That hostages should have been taken from such a friendly population is a speaking comment on the inveterate custom of taking hostages on all occasions.

967. Chron. Petrib., where see Mr. Earle’s note (p. 346), and Appendix R.

968. See vol. i. pp. 46, 427.

969. Vita Eadw. 405. “Pelagus operiebatur carinis, cœlum densissimis resplendebat armis.” If this was so when they were in the open sea, it must à fortiori have been so when they were in the river.

970. See above, p. 150.

971. Chronn. Ab. and Wig. “He gefadode wiþ ða burhwaru.”

972. “Þæt hi woldon mæst ealle þæt þæt he wolde,” say the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles. This answer to a message sounds to me like the vote of an assembly of some kind, in which we may also discern the opposition of a small minority. The Biographer (406) also witnesses to the good disposition of the Londoners; “Sed omnis civitas Duci obviam et auxilio processit et præsidio, acclamantque illi omnes unâ voce prosperè in adventu suo.”

973. “Þa sende he up æfter maran fultume,” says the Abingdon Chronicle, which Florence rather pathetically expands into “Nuntiis properè missis, omnibus qui à se non defecerant mandavit ut in adjutorium sui venire maturarent.”

974. The Peterborough Chronicle, which, just at this point, is less full than Abingdon and Worcester, gives the number; “Ða hi to Lundene comon; þa læg se cyng and þa eorlas ealle þær ongean mid L. scipum.”

975. The King’s ships were on the north bank of the river, “wið þæs norðlandes” (Chron. Ab.); his land force (“se cyng hæfde eac mycele landfyrde on his healfe, to eacan his scypmannum”) was doubtless drawn up on the same side, as the Southwark side was clearly in the hands of Godwine. From the words in Italics, compared with the expressions quoted just before, it would seem that some at least of the northern levies came, perhaps under the command of their own Earls.

976. The Abingdon Chronicle describes the day; “Ðæt wæs on þone Monandæg æfter Sc̃a Marian mæsse.” Florence and Roger of Wendover (i. 491) mark it as “dies exaltationis Sanctæ Crucis.”

977. Chron. Ab. “And seo landfyrd com ufenon, and trymedon hig be þam strande.” Flor. Wig. “Venit et pedestris exercitus, ac se per oram fluvii ordinatim disponens, spissam terribilemque fecit testudinem.” “Pedestris exercitus” is only accidentally an accurate rendering of “landfyrd.” Doubtless they were on foot, but the force of the word is that the popular levies, the militia of the shires round London, came unbidden to support Godwine. The King had only his housecarls and any troops that may have come from the north.

978. Chron. Ab. “And hi hwemdon þa mid þam scypon wið þæs norðlandes, swylce hig woldon þæs cynges scipa abutan betrymman.” Vita Eadw. 406. “Et quoniam facultas undique superiores vires administrabat, hortabantur quàm plures, ut etiam in ipsum Regem irruerent.” This feeling was still stronger a little later in the day. We must remember that, in this story, we are dealing, not with days but with hours.

979. Chron. Ab. “Ac hit wæs heom mæst eallon lað þæt hig sceoldon fohtan wið heora agenes cynnes mannum.... Eac hig noldon þæt utlendiscum þeodum wære þes eard þurh þæt þe swiðor gerymed þe hí heom sylfe ælc oðerne forfore.” The words doubtless simply mean men of their own nation. Roger of Wendover (i. 491) must have had this Chronicle before him, and must have taken the words to mean kinsmen in the later and narrower sense; “Angli, quorum filii, nepotes, et consanguinei cum Godwino erant, noluerunt contra eos dimicare.” Florence has the intermediate expression “propinquos ac compatriotas.”

980. Chron. Petrib. “Þa sendon þa eorlas to þam cynge, and gerndon to him þæt hi moston beon wurðe ælc þæra þinga þe heom mid unrihte ofgenumen wæs.”

981. Ib. “Ða wiðlæg se cyng sume hwile, þeah swa lange, oð þet folc þe mid þam eorle wes wearð swiðe astyred ongean þone cyng and ongean his folc.”

982. See vol. i. p. 466. The Worcester and Abingdon Chronicles, a little way before, have a singular remark that the only good troops on both sides were English; “Forðan þar wæs lyt elles þe aht mycel myhton buton Englisce men on ægþer healfe.” This sounds like a slur on the military prowess alike of the King’s Frenchmen, of Harold’s Irish Danes, and of any Flemings who may have come with Godwine.

983. Chron. Petrib. “Swa þæt se eorl sylf earfoðlice gestylde þæt folc.” So the Biographer, in his more rhetorical way; “Verùm fidelis et Deo devotus Dux verbis et nutu admodum abhorruit.” William of Malmesbury, a little later, pays a fine tribute to Godwine’s eloquence, which is rather a favourite subject of his; “Senex ille et linguâ potens [some read “et famâ clarus et linguâ potens”] ad flectendos animos audientium.”

984. Vita Eadw. 406. “Dum,” inquit, “fidelitatis suæ in corde meo habeam hodie testem, me scilicet malle mortem, quàm aliquid indecens et iniquum egerim, vel agam, vel me vivo agi permittam in dominum meum Regem [cynehlaforde].” William of Malmesbury is certainly justified in saying of Godwine personally, if not of all Godwine’s followers, “pacifico animo repatriantes.”

985. See Appendix S.

986. Chron. Ab. “And Godwine for upp, and Harold his sunu, and heora lið swa mycel swa heom þa geþuhte.”

987. Harold certainly, perhaps Godwine also. See above, p. 154.

988. Chron. Petrib. “Sume west to Pentecostes castele, some norð to Rodbertes castele.” Pentecost, as we gather from Florence, who speaks of “Osbernus cognomento Pentecost”—what can be the meaning of so strange a surname?—is the same as Osbern, the son of Richard of Richard’s Castle, of whom we have already heard so much. Robert’s castle must be some castle belonging to Robert the son of Wymarc, as distinctly the most notable man of his name in the country after Robert the Archbishop. Most of his lands lay in the East of England; but he had also property in the shires of Hertford, Huntingdon, and Cambridge, though I do not find any mention of a castle on any of his estates there.

989. The Abingdon Chronicle, followed by Florence, makes William accompany Robert and Ulf on their desperate ride; “Rodbeard bisceop and Willem bisceop and Ulf bisceop uneaðe ætburstan mid þam Frenciscum mannum þe heom mid wæron, and swa ofer sæ becomon.” But the Peterborough writer speaks only of Robert and Ulf, and William’s restoration to his see, a matter of which there is no kind of doubt, could hardly have followed if he had any share in the murderous adventure of his brethren.

990. Chron. Petrib. “And Rodbert arcebisceop and Ulf bisceop gewendon út æt æst geate, and heora geferan, and ofslogon and elles amyrdon manige iunge men.” One might almost fancy London apprentices, as in after times, zealous for the popular cause.

991. Walton-on-the-Naze in Essex; see above, p. 110.

992. Chron. Petrib. “And wearð him þær on anon unwræste scipe, and ferde him on án ofer sæ.” See Mr. Earle’s note on “unwræste,” p. 346.

993. Chron. Petrib. “And forlet his pallium and Christendom ealne her on lande, swa swa hit God wolde; þæ he ǽr begeat þone wurðscipe swa swa hit God nolde.” English has not gained by dropping the negative verb, which survives only in the saying “will he, nill he.”

994. Chron. Petrib. “Ða cwæð mann mycel gemót wiðutan Lundene;” “Statutum est magnum placitum” is the translation in the Waverley Annals, p. 186 Luard. Flor. Wig. “Mane autem facto, concilium Rex habuit.” Chron. Ab. “And wæs þa Witenagemót.” But it is the Peterborough writer only who dwells with evident delight on the popular character of the Assembly.

995. Compare the position of the Dutch Guards and other foreign troops who accompanied William of Orange.

996. “Wiðutan Lundene,” says the Peterborough Chronicler. See Appendix S.

997. Chron. Petrib. “Þær þær Godwine Eorl úp his mal, and betealde hine þær wið Eadward cyng his hlaford and wið ealle landleodan.”

998. We shall presently see that Godwine and Eadward were both armed; it is not at all likely that they were singular in being so. We have already heard enough of votes passed by the army and the like to make an armed Gemót nothing wonderful.

999. I saw the armed Landesgemeinde of Appenzell-ausser-rhoden in 1864. The Law requires each landman to bring his sword; it also forbids the sword to be drawn. In Uri the custom of bearing arms has been given up. Cf. Thuc. i. 5, 6.

1000. Vita Eadw. 406. “Destitutus inprimis fugâ Archipræsulis et suorum multorum verentium adspectum Ducis.”

1001. Chron. Petrib. “And ealle þa eorlas and þa betstan menn þe wæron on þison lande wæron on þam gemote.” Does this merely mean the Earls who had been already spoken of, Godwine and Harold on the one side, Ralph and Odda on the other? Or does it imply the presence of Leofric, Ælfgar, and Siward? Their presence is perfectly possible; but, if they had had any share either in this Gemót or in the earlier military proceedings, it is odd that they are not spoken of.

1002. Il. Σ. 198;

ἀλλ’ αὕτως ἐπὶ τάφρον ἰὼν, Τρώεσσι φάνηθι,
αἴ κε σ’ ὑποδδείσαντες ἀπόσχωνται πολέμοιο.

“Verentes adspectum Ducis,” says the Biographer just above.

1003. Vita Eadw. 406. “Viso Rege protinùs abjectis armis ejus advolvitur pedibus.” I conceive the weapon borne to have been the axe, as a sort of official weapon. It appears in the Bayeux Tapestry in the hands of the attendants upon Eadward; so also in the scene where the Crown is offered to Harold, both Harold himself and one of those who make the offer to him bear axes.

1004. Ib. “Orans suppliciter ut in Christi nomine, cujus signiferam regni coronam gestabat in capite, annueret ut sibi liceret purgare se de objecto crimine, et purgato pacem concederet gratiæ suæ.” This surviving fragment of Godwine’s eloquence shows how well he could adapt himself to every class of hearers. But what was the Crown like? The allusion seems to point to something like the Imperial Crown with a cross on the top, but the crowns in the Tapestry are quite different.

1005. Chron. Petrib. “Þet he wæs unscyldig þæs þe him geled wæs, and on Harold his sunu and ealle his bearn.” This is the “purgatio” of the Biographer. So Will. Malms. ii. 199. “Probè se de omnibus quæ objectabantur expurgavit.” Compurgators seem not to have been called for.

1006. Will. Malms. u. s. “Tantum brevi valuit ut sibi liberisque suis honores integros restitueret.”

1007. “Ealle landleodan.” We have lost this, and so many other expressive words. “Landleute” is the old official name of the people of the democratic cantons of Switzerland; but Land is there used in its ordinary opposition to Stadt.

1008. I refer to the oath of the people of Appenzell-ausser-rhoden in their Landesgemeinde. The newly elected Landammann first himself swears to obey the laws; he then administers the oath to the vast multitude before him. The effect of their answer is something overwhelming in its grandeur.

1009. Chron. Petrib. “And cweð mann útlaga Rotberd arcebisceop fullice, and ealle þa Frencisce menn, forðan þe hi macodon mæst þet unseht betweonan Godwine Eorle and þam Cynge.” So William of Malmesbury; “Prolatâ sententiâ in Robertum archiepiscopum ejusque complices quòd statum regni conturbarent, animum regium in provinciales agitantes.”

1010. Chron. Ab. “And geutlageden þa ealle Frencisce men, þe ǽr unlage rærdon, and undom demdon, and únræd ræddon into ðissum earde.” Modern English utterly fails to express the power of the negative words, which modern High German only partially preserves. So Florence; “Omnes Nortmannos qui leges iniquas adinvenerant [a poor substitute for “unlage rærdon”] et injusta judicia judicaverant, multaque Regi insilia [an attempt at transferring the Teutonic negative to the Latin] adversus Anglos [a touch from Peterborough] dederant, exlegaverunt.”

1011. Chron. Ab. and Fl. Wig. I shall have to speak of this exception again.

1012. Ib. “And eallum folce góde lage beheton.”

1013. See Appendix S.

1014. Chron. Petrib. 1052. “And se Cyng geaf þære Hlæfdian eall þæt heo ær ahte.” Chron. Ab. “And Godwine Eorl and Harold and seo Cwen [This title is unusual, but not unique] sæton on heora áre.” She had just before come in incidentally in the list of Godwine’s family; “his sunum ... and his wife and his dehter.” Flor. Wig. “Filiam quoque Ducis, Eadgitham Reginam, digniter Rex recepit et pristinæ dignitati restituit.” The Biographer (406) of course waxes eloquent; “Modico exinde interfluente tempore mittitur æquè regio, ut par erat, apparatu ad monasterium Wiltunense [on this confusion see p. 156] et [I omit metaphors about the sun, &c.] reducitur Regina, ejusdem Ducis filia, ad thalamum Regis.” This last expression should be noticed, and compared with the account in R. Wendover.

1015. On the pilgrimage of Swegen, see Appendix T.

1016. “On þone Tiwesdæg hí gewurdon sehte, swa hit her beforan stent,” says the Abingdon Chronicle.

1017. See the passage of William of Malmesbury quoted above, p. 161.

1018. See above, p. 160.

1019. See Appendix G.

1020. See above, p. 66.

1021. The Peterborough Chronicle seems to record his appointment in the same breath with the other acts of September 15th. Immediately after the outlawry of Richard and the French follow the words, “And Stigand Bisceop feng to þam arcebisceoprice on Cantwarabyrig.” The Chronicler then turns to other matters.

1022. Will. Malms. Gest. Reg. ii. 199. “Romam profectus et de caussâ suâ sedem apostolicam appellans.” In Gest. Pont. 116, he adds that he returned “cum epistolis innocentiæ et restitutionis suæ allegatricibus.”

1023. Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 761 D. Of William’s three causes for his invasion two are, “Primò, quia Alfredum cognatum suum Godwinus et filii sui dehonestaverant et peremerant; secundò, quia Robertum episcopum et Odonem consulem [see Appendix G.] et omnes Francos Godwinus et filii sui arte suâ ab Angliâ exsulaverant.” The third count is of course the perjury of Harold. So, in nearly the same words, Bromton, X Scriptt. 958.

1024. On the ecclesiastical position of Stigand see Appendix U.

1025. We shall find many examples as we go on, and the general fact is asserted in the Profession of Saint Wulfstan to Lanfranc. See Appendix U.

1026. Chron. Ab. 1053. See Appendix U.

1027. Unless indeed some such feeling lurks in the words of the Abingdon Chronicler, 1053; “Se Wulfwi feng to ðam biscoprice þe Ulf hæfde be him libbendum and of adræfdum.”

1028. Chron. Ab. 1053. See Appendix U.

1029. See above, p. 331.

1030. Thierry (i. 202) makes Godwine resist the retention of any Normans, especially of Bishop William and of the Lotharingian Hermann, Bishop of Ramsbury! For his authority he quotes “Godwinus Comes obstiterat (Ranulphus Higden, p. 281).” To say nothing of going to R. Higden on such a point, any one who makes the reference will find that the words have nothing to do with the matter. They refer to a supposed opposition on the part of Godwine to the union of the sees of Ramsbury and Sherborne, of which more anon.

1031. Flor. Wig. in anno. “Willelmus, propter suam bonitatem, parvo post tempore revocatus, in suum episcopatum recipitur.”

1032. See above, p. 122.

1033. Flor. Wig.

1034. Flor. Wig. 1052. “Osbernus verò, cognomento Pentecost, et socius ejus Hugo sua reddiderunt castella, et Comitis Leofrici licentiâ, per suum comitatum Scottiam adeuntes a Rege Scottorum Macbeothâ suscepti sunt.”

1035. In the writ of 1060 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 194), announcing the nomination of Walter to the see of Hereford, the King greets “Haroldum Comitem et Osebarnum et omnes meos ministros in Herefordensi comitatu amicabiliter.” See Ellis, i. 460. He was apparently Sheriff; he is not indeed directly called so, but the position in the writ in which his name occurs is one which generally belongs to the Sheriff. The appearance of a French Sheriff in this particular shire may be accounted for by the presence of a French Earl. It is more remarkable if Robert the son of Wymarc was Sheriff of Essex, as might be inferred from the similar position of his name in a writ in Cod. Dipl. iv. 214.

1036. Flor. Wig. 1052. “Robertum diaconem et generum ejus Ricardum filium Scrob.”

1037. Several Ælfreds occur in Domesday, as the great landowners, Ælfred of Marlborough and Ælfred of Spain, but it is not easy to identify their possessions with any holder of the name in Eadward’s time. The names Ælfred and Eadward, and the female name Eadgyth, seem to have been the only English names adopted by the Normans. The two former would naturally be given to godsons or dependants of the two Æthelings while in Normandy, and Eadgyth would gain currency as the name of the wife of the sainted King.

1038. The possessions of Ralph the Staller were very large. He signs an English document of Abbot Ælfwig of Bath in Cod. Dipl. iv. 172, as “Roulf steallere.”

1039. He signs as “Huhgelin minister.” Cod. Dipl. iv. 173. Cf. Domesday, Hunt. 208, where his title is “Camerarius.” Æth. Riev. X Scriptt. 376.

1040. Vita Eadw. 406. “Unde post tam grande malum absque sanguine sedatum Ducis sapientiâ, sollennis celebratur lætitia tam à palatinis quam ab omni patriâ.”

1041. On this point the Biographer becomes enthusiastic, and bursts forth, after his manner, into no less than forty hexameters. Godwine suffering under false accusations had been likened to Joseph and Susanna; now that he spares and honours a King whom he has in his power, he is likened to David doing the like towards Saul. Altogether the comparison is not a very lucky one for either Godwine or Eadward.

1042. Chron. Ab. 1052. “Godwine þa gesiclode hraðe þæs þe he upcom.”

1043. Chron. Wig. 1053. “And man rædde þæt man sloh Rís þæs Wyliscean cynges broþer, forðy he hearmas dyde.” Florence more fully; “Griffini Regis Australium Wallensium frater, Res nomine, propter frequentes prædas quas egit in loco qui Bulendun dicitur, jussu Regis Eadwardi, occiditur.” There are Bullingdons both in Oxfordshire and in Hampshire, but Welsh ravages could hardly reach to either of them.

1044. Chron. Wig. “And man brohte his heafod to Glewcestre [“Glawornam ad Regem” Fl. Wig.] on Twelftan ǽfen.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 196) makes Harold the agent, which is quite possible, but he mixes the matter up in a strange way with the fate of Gruffydd of North Wales, ten years later. “Haroldum West-Saxonum [Comitem], filium Godwini, qui duos fratres Reges Walensium Ris et Grifinum sollertiâ suâ in mortem egerit.” William, perhaps pardonably, confounds the two Gruffydds.

1045. Chron. Petrib. 1052. “And on þis ilcan tyme forlet Arnwi abbot of Burh abbotrice be his halre life, and geaf hit Leofric munec be þes cynges leafe and be þære munece.” The local writer, Hugo Candidus, seems (Sparke, 41) to place Leofric’s appointment in 1057. So John of Peterborough, a. 1057, who calls him “egregius pater Leofricus.” Hugo is loud in his praises; among his other merits he was so high in the favour of the King and the Lady that he held five abbeys at once, Burton, Coventry, Crowland, and Thorney, besides Peterborough.

1046. See above, p. 67.

1047. Hugo Candidus, ap. Sparke, 42.

1048. Chron. Petrib. 1052. “And se abbot Leofric gildede þa þæt mynstre swa þæt man hit cleopede þa gildene Burh; þa wæx hit swiðe on land and on gold and on seolfer.” Cf. 1066.

1049. Chron. Petrib. 1066.

1050. See Appendix W.

1051. See Chron. Ab. 1052, and Appendix E. and W.

1052. Liber de Hydâ, 289. “Porro uxor ejus [she is “Geta, genus, ut aiunt, ex insulâ Norwegiâ ducens”], magnæ sanctitatis multæque religionis tramitem incedens, omni die duas ad minus missas studiosè [see above, p. 28] audiebat, omnique fere sabbato per duo aut amplius miliaria nudis pedibus vicina ambiebat monasteria, largis muneribus cumulans altaria, largisque donis pauperes recreans.” Of her gifts for her husband’s soul we read in the Winchester Annals, p. 26; “Githa, uxor Godwini, fœmina multas habens facultates, pro animâ ejus multis ecclesiis in eleemosynâ multa contulit, et Wintoniæ ecclesiæ dedit duo maneria, scilicet, Bleodonam et Crawecumbam et ornamenta diversi generis.” Of these lordships, Bleadon and Crowcombe in Somersetshire, Bleadon still remained to the Church at the time of the survey (Domesday, 87 b), but Crowcombe had been alienated to Count Robert of Mortain (91 b). Another gift for her husband’s soul made by Gytha to the church of Saint Olaf at Exeter is found in Cod. Dipl. iv. 264. This charter, signed by her sons Tostig and Gyrth as Earls, must be of a later date (1057–1065), and shows that her pious anxiety still continued. Of Gytha’s religious scruples a specimen will be found in Appendix E. She is said (Tanner, Notitia Monastica, Devon, xxv. New Monasticon, vi. 435) to have founded a College at Hartland in Devon. A secular establishment founded by Harold’s mother should be noted.

1053. Chron. Ab. 1053. “And he lið þær binnan ealdan mynstre.” Vita Eadw. 408. “Tumulatur ergo condigno honore in monasterio quod nuncupant veteri Wintoniæ, additis in eâdem ecclesiâ multis ornamentorum muneribus et terrarum reditibus pro redemptione ipsius animæ.”

1054. Vita Eadw. 408. “Exsequiis suis in luctum decidit populus, hunc patrem, hunc nutricium suum regnique, memorabant suspiriis et assiduis fletibus.”

1055. Vita Eadw. 408. “Dux felicis memoriæ.”

1056. See vol. i. p. 470.

1057. See vol. i. p. 432: cf. 456.

1058. Chron. Petrib. 1053. “And feng Harold Eorl his sunu to ðam eorldome and to eallum þam þe his fæder ahte.” So the others in other words.

1059. See above, pp. 37, 43.

1060. See above, p. 101.

1061. Vita Eadw. 408. “Subrogatur autem regio favore in ejus [Godwini] ducatu filius ejus major natu et sapientiâ Haroldus, unde in consolationem respirat universus Anglorum exercitus.” Then follows the panegyric quoted in Appendix D.

1062. See Appendix G.

1063. Chronn. Ab. Wig. Petrib. Cant. in anno.

1064. We have one panegyric on Ælfgar in Orderic (511 A), but it is a panegyric by misadventure. Orderic clearly confounded Ælfgar with his father. William of Malmesbury however (see above, p. 161) speaks well of his government of East-Anglia during Harold’s banishment.

1065. See above, p. 347.

1066. That the number of Frenchmen who remained in England was considerable is shown, as Lappenberg says (p. 514. ii. 255 Thorpe), by a passage in the so-called Laws of William (Thorpe, i. 491. Schmid, 354), by which it appears that many of them had become naturalized English subjects; “Omnis Francigena, qui tempore Eadwardi propinqui nostri fuit in Angliâ particeps consuetudinum Anglorum, quod ipsi dicunt an hlote et an scote, persolvat secundum legem Anglorum.”

1067. See above, p. 346.

1068. I quote, as one example of many, the signatures to the foundation charter of Harold’s own church at Waltham (Cod. Dipl. iv. 158). The seemingly Norman names, besides Bishop William, are “Rodbertus Regis consanguineus, Radulphus Regis aulicus [the two Stallers], Bundinus Regis palatinus (?), Hesbernus Regis consanguineus, Regenbaldus Regis cancellarius, Petrus Regis capellanus, Baldewinus Regis capellanus.” But the deed is also signed by many English courtiers, as well as Earls, Prelates, and Thegns.

1069. I do not ground this belief on the well-known saying of the false Ingulf (Gale, i. 62), how in Eadward’s days “Gallicum idioma omnes magnates in suis curiis tamquam magnum gentilitium [linguam gentilitiam?] loqui [cœperunt].” Harold’s foreign travels, and his sojourn at the Norman court, seem to imply a knowledge of French, and I can well believe that at home King Eadward looked more favourably on a counsellor who could frame his lips to the beloved speech.

1070. This seems implied in the famous poetical panegyric on Eadward and Harold in the Chronicles for 1065.

1071. Chron. Wig. 1053. “And þæs ylcan geres, foran to alra halgena mæssan, forðferde Wulsyg bisceop æt Licetfelda, and Godwine abbod on Wincelcumbe, and Ægelward abbod on Glestingabyrig, ealle binnan anum monþe.”

1072. Chron. Ab. and Flor. Wig.

1073. Leofric, it will be remembered, was the son of an Ealdorman Leofwine. See vol. i. p. 456.

1074. See above, p. 344.

1075. On Abbot Æthelnoth see William of Malmesbury, Glastonbury History, ap. Gale, ii. 324. Æthelweard spoiled the lands, Æthelnoth the ornaments, of the house. “Ex illo res Glastoniæ retro relabi et in pejus fluere.” He has much to tell about the miracles wrought by King Eadgar about this time—Eadgar, it must be remembered, passed at Glastonbury, in defiance of all legends, for a saint—specially in healing a mad German, “furiosus Teutonicus genus.” Was he one of the suite of the Ætheling?

1076. I infer that Ealdred’s holding of Winchcombe was something more than a mere temporary holding till a successor could be found. The Worcester Chronicle (1053) speaks of it in the same form of words as the appointments of Leofwine and Æthelnoth; “And Leofwine feng to þam bisceoprice æt Licedfelde, and Aldret bisceop feng to þam abbodrice on Wincelcumbe,” &c. Florence however says, after mentioning the appointments of Leofwine and Æthelnoth, “Aldredus vero Wigorniensis episcopus abbatiam Wincelcumbensem tamdiu in manu suâ tenuit, donec Godricum, Regis capellani Godmanni filium abbatem constitueret.”

1077. Fl. Wig. 1054.

1078. Chron. Ab. 1053. “Eac Wylsce menn geslogan mycelne dæl Englisces folces ðæra weardmanna wið Wæstbyrig.”

1079. See above, p. 53.

1080. See vol. i. p. 588.

1081. See vol. i. p. 499.

1082. See above, p. 55.

1083. See above, p. 54.

1084. “Jussu Regis,” says Florence, 1054.

1085. On the war with Macbeth, see Appendix X.

1086. See Munch, Chron. Regum Manniæ, 46 et seqq. Burton, History of Scotland, i. 374.

1087. Annals of Ulster, 1054. See Appendix X.

1088. Chron. Wig. 1054. “And lædde þonan micele herehuþe, swilce nan man ær ne begeat.”

1089. See vol. i. p. 586.

1090. Now that the Housecarls are an established institution, wars are carried on with much greater speed than they were in Æthelred’s time. If the expedition was voted at the end of June, Siward could easily have met Macbeth in the field before the end of July.

1091. Tac. Mor. Germ. c. 20. “Sororum filiis idem apud avunculum, qui apud patrem honor. Quidam sanctiorem arctioremque hunc nexum sanguinis arbitrantur, et in accipiendis obsidibus magis exigunt.”

1092. See above, p. 364, for Siward nephew of Siward, and vol. i. p. 300 for Wulfmær nephew of Brihtnoth.

1093. See vol. i. p. 455.

1094. See Appendix Y.

1095. See Appendix Y.

1096. It is only through Margaret that our Kings from Henry the Second onward were descended from Eadward the Elder, Eadmund, or Eadgar. But it must not be forgotten that every descendant of Matilda of Flanders was a descendant of Ælfred.

1097. See vol. i. pp. 118, 533.

1098. See vol. i. pp. 65, 117, 118.

1099. See vol. i. pp. 117, 291.

1100. I rely far more on the probability of the case than on the account given by William of Malmesbury under the influence of those Norman prejudices against which he sometimes struggles, but to which he sometimes yields. He tells us (ii. 228), “Rex Edwardus, pronus in senium [fifty, or a year or two older], quod ipse non susceperat liberos, et Godwini videret invalescere filios, misit ad Regem Hunorum ut filium fratris Edmundi, Edwardum, cum omni familiâ suâ mitteret; futurum ut aut ille aut filii sui succedant regno hæreditario Angliæ; orbitatem suam cognatorum suffragio sustentari debere.” He then goes on to describe the Ætheling (“vir neque promptus manu neque probus ingenio”), his family, his return, and his death. He then adds, “Rex itaque, defuncto cognato, quia spes prioris erat soluta suffragii, Willelmo Comiti Normanniæ successionem Angliæ dedit.” I believe exactly the reverse to be the truth.

1101. See Appendix Y.

1102. See above, p. 115.

1103. See above, p. 113.

1104. See above, p. 362.

1105. So I understand the passage in the Evesham History, p. 87, about Æthelwig’s appointment to the Abbey of Evesham in 1059. He is there spoken of as one “qui multo antea tempore episcopatum Wigornensis ecclesiæ sub Aldredo archiepiscopo laudabiliter rexerat.” See Mr. Macray’s note. That Ealdred is called Archbishop need be no difficulty. It is the old question about the days of Abiathar the Priest.

1106. On Mannig, see above, p. 70. The Evesham History, p. 86, describes him as skilful in all arts, and as practising them for the adornment of the churches of Canterbury and Coventry as well as of his own Evesham.

1107. Chron. Wig. 1054. “And he lofode Leofwine bisceop to halgianne þæt mynster æt Eofeshamme, on vi. Id. Oct.”

1108. Young Henry was crowned at the age of five at Aachen, July 17th, 1054, by Hermann, Archbishop of Köln. Lambert in anno.

1109. Agnes, daughter of William the Great, Duke of Aquitaine, married King Henry in 1043 (Lambert and Chron. And. ap. Labbe, i. 276) or 1045 (Hugo Flav. ap. Labbe, i. 187) or 1049 (Chron. S. Maxent. in anno). Her father being dead, she is described as “filia Agnetis,” the Agnes so famous in the history of Geoffrey Martel (see above, p. 276). Abbot Hugh, in recording the marriage, cannot refrain from the strange comment, “Quum enim esset [Heinricus] aliàs bonus, et omnes ejus sitirent dominium, carnis tamen incontinentiam frænare non potuit.” Was Henry the Third bound to imitate Henry the Second?

1110. See Appendix Y.

1111. Ib.

1112. See above, p. 100. We have no account of the time or circumstances of his return from banishment.

1113. Chron. Ab. 1054. “Swa swa he on his reste læg.” Chron. Wig. “on his bedde.”

1114. All the Chronicles and Florence, in anno.

1115. Hen. Hunt, M. H. B. 760 C. “Adhuc parvulus.” So Bromton, 946. But he could hardly be “in cunis jacens” (R. Higden, lib. vi. Gale, ii. 281), when we consider his importance twelve years later.

1116. We know her through a document in Cod. Dipl. iv. 265. “Godgiva vidua” gives lands to Peterborough “pro redemptione animæ suæ per consensum Regis Eaduuardi.” She then married Siward; “Postea accepit eam Siuuardus Comes in conjugio; post tempus non multum mortua est.” The singular story about these lands will be best told when discussing the character of Waltheof.

1117. See vol. i. p. 587. Sim. Dun. X Scriptt. 81. “Nepos Aldredi Comitis Comes Waltheof, erat enim filius filiæ illius.” Simeon (ib. 82) seems to imply that Waltheof held Bernicia under his father (“filio suo Waltheofo comitatum Northymbrorum dedit”); but he clearly was not in possession in 1065. See Simeon’s own account, X Scriptt. 204. On the question whether he received Northamptonshire on his father’s death or ten years later, see Appendix G.

1118. Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 760 C. Bromton, 946. Ann. Wint. 26.

1119. Chronn. Ab. and Wig. 1055. “And he ligeð æt Galmanhó, on þam mynstre þe he sylf let timbrian and halgian on Godes and Olafes naman [Gode to lofe and eallum his halgum”]. Bromton, 946, using the language of later times, says, “Sepultus est in monasterio sanctæ Mariæ apud Eboracum in claustro.” There is still a parish church of Saint Olaf in that part of the city.

1120. See vol. i. pp. 416, 449.

1121. See Appendix G.

1122. Vita Eadw. 408. “Agentibusque amicis potissimùm autem et pro merito hoc ejus fratre Haroldo Duce et ejus sorore Reginâ, et non resistente Rege ob innumera ipsius fideliter acta servitia, ducatum ejus suscepit Tostinus, vir scilicet fortis et magnâ præditus animi sagacitate et sollertiâ.”

1123. The Biographer, essentially a courtier, always likes to attribute as much as possible to the personal action of the King, and to keep that of the Witan, as far as may be, in the back ground.

1124. Plutarch. Apophth. Alex. 29. Τιμᾷν μὲν ἐδόκει Κρατερὸν μάλιστα πάντων, φιλεῖν δὲ Ἡφαιστίωνα· Κρατερὸς μὲν γὰρ, ἔφη, φιλοβασιλεύς ἐστιν, Ἡφαιστίων δὲ φιλαλέξανδρος. Eadward’s affection for Tostig is also marked by William of Malmesbury, iii. 252; “Quia Tostinum diligeret, ... ut dilecto auxiliari non posset.”

1125. This seems implied in the Biographer’s description of the state of things when the Northumbrian revolt broke out in 1065 (421); “Erat ... Tostinus in curiâ Regis, diutiùsque commoratus est cum eo, ejus detentus amore et jussis in disponendis regalis palatii negotiis.”

1126. See vol. i. p. 416.

1127. See vol. i. p. 587.

1128. See above, p. 374.

1129. See vol. i. p. 588.

1130. He is called “adolescens” by Simeon of Durham (X Scriptt. 204) ten years later. His father had now been dead fourteen years; Oswulf was therefore probably a mere babe at the time of his death.

1131. See vol. i. p. 585.

1132. See Appendix Z.

1133. See above, p. 38.

1134. Vita Eadw. 409.

1135. Vita Eadw. 409. “At Dux Tostinus et ipse gravi quidem et sapienti continentiâ, sed acrior paullisper in persequendâ malitiâ, virili præditus et indissolubili mentis constantiâ.” In a writer who is striving hard to make out a case for Tostig, the words in Italics mean a great deal. We shall see, as we go on, reason to justify infinitely stronger expressions; but the point is that Tostig was not a mere wanton oppressor, but a ruler who carried a severe justice to such a degree as to become injustice. This is the impression conveyed by the no doubt flattering, but still very carefully drawn, portrait given by the Biographer.

1136. Vita Eadw. 421. “Licet antecessor ejus Dux Siwardus ex feritate judicii valdè timeretur, tamen tanta gentis illius crudelitas et Dei incultus habebatur ut vix triginta vel viginti in uno comitatu possent ire, quin aut interficerentur aut deprædarentur ab insidiantium latronum multitudine.”

1137. Ib. 422. “Quos pacis deificæ filius et amator eximius Dux adeò illo adtenuaverat tempore, patriam scilicet purgando talium cruciatu vel nece, et nulli quantumlibet nobili parcendo qui in hoc deprehensus esset crimine, ut quivis solus etiam cum quâvis possessione ad votum possent commeare, absque alicujus hostilitatis formidine.” This last is the proverbial saying which is applied to the strict police of William (Chron. Petrib. 1087); “Swa þæt án man þe himsylf aht wære mihte faran ofer his rice mid his bosum full goldes ungederad.” It is essentially the same as the story told of the vigilant administration of the Bretwalda Eadwine; Bæda, Hist. Eccl. ii. 16.

1138. Vita Eadw. 409. “Propter eamdem regiæ stirpis uxorem suam omnium abdicans voluptatem, cœlebs moderatiùs corporis et oris sui prudenter regere consuetudinem.” On this singular use of the word cœlebs, see Appendix B.

1139. Vita Eadw. 409. “Quum largiretur, liberali effundebat munificentiâ, et frequentiùs hoc hortatu religiosæ conjugis suæ in Christi fiebat honore quam pro aliquo hominum labili favore.” Tostig and Judith had much reverence for Saint Cuthberht, and were bountiful in their gifts to his church at Durham. But Judith chafed under the discipline which forbade women to pay their personal devotions at his shrine. She accordingly, before venturing herself, sent a handmaid to try her luck. The poor girl was sadly buffeted by the indignant saint, on which Tostig and his wife offered a splendid crucifix with the usual accompanying figures. Sim. Dun. Hist. Eccl. Dun. iii. 11.

1140. See above, p. 46. We shall come to the details in the next Chapter.

1141. I have no means of reckoning save the vague one which I have had to follow throughout. As Godwine and Gytha were married in 1019, their third or fourth child would probably be born about 1023 or 1024.

1142. Simeon of Durham (Gest. Regg. in anno) speaks of Malcolm being Tostig’s “conjuratus frater” in 1061. The engagement must therefore have been entered into before that year and after 1055. Tostig would not become Malcolm’s sworn brother till he found himself his neighbour.

1143. See vol. i. p. 436.

1144. See vol. i. p. 585.

1145. See Appendix X.

1146. Chron. Petrib. 1055. “Þa bead man ealre witena gemót vii. nihton ǽr midlenctene.” Flor. Wig. “Habito Lundoniæ consilio.”

1147. Ib. “Utlagode mann Ælfgar eorl, forðon him man wearp ón þæt he was þes cynges swica and ealra landleoda. And he þæs geanwyrde wæs ætforan eallum þam mannum þe þær gegaderode wæron, þeah him þæt word ofscute his unnþances.” So Chron. Cant.

1148. “Butan ælcan gylte,” Chron. Ab. “Forneh butan gylte,” Chron. Wig. “Sine culpâ,” Florence. Just as in the case of the ballad charging Godwine with the murder of Ælfred (vol. i. p. 546), these differences look very much as if the Worcester writer had seen the Abingdon text, and had altered a passage which might be construed into a representation of Harold as a false accuser. One can hardly conceive any other motive for the change. And care on such a point seems to show that Harold had some hand in the accusation, whether true or false. It is singular however that Henry of Huntingdon, who is generally most bitter against Harold, should be the writer who expresses the most distinct conviction of the guilt of Ælfgar (M. H. B. 760 D); “Eodem anno Algarus consul Cestriæ [a confusion of his present and later offices] exsulatus est, quia de proditione Regis in consilio convictus fuerat.” On the other hand, a later writer, John of Peterborough (1055), commits himself to the banishment being done both “sine caussâ” and “per Haroldi consilium.”

1149. Chron. Ab. 1055. “He gewende ða to Irlande, and begeat him ðær lið; þæt wæs xviii. scipa butan his agenan.” So “xviii. piraticis navibus acquisitis” in Florence. The part of Ireland whence they came is not mentioned, but Diarmid, the protector of Harold, was still reigning at Dublin, and he would doubtless be equally ready to protect Ælfgar. I can find no mention of the matter in the Irish Chronicles.

1150. The language of the three Chronicles and of Florence is singularly varied, but they all assert the same fact.

1151. Ann. Camb. 1055. “Grifinus filius Lewelin, Grifud filium Riderch occidit et Herefordiam vastavit.” So Brut y Tywysogion, 1054.

1152. Fl. Wig. “Petivit [Algarus] ut contra Regem Eadwardum sibi esset in auxilium.”

1153. Fl. Wig. “De toto regno suo copiosum exercitum congregans.” The Welsh Chronicler says that “Gruffydd raised an army against the Saxons,” but he takes care to say nothing of his English, Irish, or Danish allies.

1154. Domesday, 179. “In Arcenefelde habet Rex tres ecclesias; presbyteri harum ecclesiarum ferunt legationes Regis in Wales.... Quum exercitus in hostem pergit, ipsi per consuetudinem faciunt Avantwarde et in reversione Redrewarde. Hæ consuetudines erant Walensium T. R. E. in Arcenefelde.” These customs are described at length, and they give a curious picture of a border district, largely inhabited by Welshmen living under English allegiance and bound to service against their independent brethren.

1155. Domesday, 181. “Rex Grifin et Blein vastaverunt hanc terram T. R. E. et ideo nescitur qualis eo tempore fuerit.” Blein is doubtless Blethgent the brother of Gruffydd, to whom his kingdom was given by Harold in 1063.

1156. Fl. Wig. 1055. “Duobus miliariis a civitate Herefordâ.”

1157. See above, p. 346.

1158. It is now that Florence introduces him as “timidus Dux Radulfus, Regis Eadwardi sororis filius.”

1159. Chron. Ab. 1055. “Ac ǽr þær wære ænig spere gescoten, ær fleah ðæt Englisce folc, forðan þe hig wæran on horsan.” Florence is more explicit; “Radulfus ... Anglos contra morem in equis pugnare jussit.”

1160. See Macaulay’s remarks on Monmouth’s raw cavalry at Sedgemoor. Hist. Eng. i. 588, 604.

1161. Fl. Wig. 1055. “Comes cum suis Francis et Nortmannis fugam primitùs capessit. Quod videntes Angli ducem suum fugiendo sequuntur.” But the Chronicles do not necessarily imply this.

1162. Chron. Ab. “And man sloh ðær mycel wæl, abutan feower hund manna oððe fife, and hig nænne agean.” The Annales Cambriæ (1055) have simply, “Grifinus ... Herfordiam vastavit,” without mention of the battle. The Brut (1054) much fuller. It makes no mention of Ælfgar and his contingent, but it speaks of Reinolf or Randwlf as the commander of the English. It says nothing of the special reason for the flight of the English, which it says happened “after a severely hard battle.”

1163. The battle, according to the Abingdon Chronicle and Florence, the “harrying” according to the Worcester Chronicle, was on the 24th of October, ix. Kal. Nov.

1164. So all the Chronicles under 792.

1165. See Appendix AA.

1166. Chronn. Ab. and Wig. and Fl. Wig. 1055.

1167. Flor. Wig. 1055. “Septem canonicis qui valvas principalis basilicæ defenderant occisis.” Chron. Wig., without mentioning the number, “Forbærude [Ælfgar] þæt mære mynster þe Æthelstan bisceop getimbrode, and ofsloh þa preostas innan þan mynstre.”

1168. “Nonnullis è civibus necatis, multisque captivatis,” says Florence, but the Worcester Chronicle, after mentioning the slaughter of the clergy, adds, “and manege þærto eacan;” while Abingdon says, “and þæt folc slogan, and sume onweg læddan.”

1169. The Brut y Tywysogion plainly distinguishes the “gaer,” or castle, which was demolished, from the town, which was burned. The castle was doubtless of stone, while the houses of the town would be chiefly of wood.

1170. Chronn. Ab. and Wig. and Fl. Wig. 1055, 1056.

1171. See Appendix Y.

1172. Florence, at this point, seems quite to boil over with admiration for Harold. “Quod ubi Regi innotuit, de totâ mox Angliâ exercitum congregari jussit, cui Glawornæ congregato strenuum Ducem Haroldum præfecit, qui, devotè jussis obtemperans, Griffinum et Algarum impigrè insequitur, ac fines Walanorum audacter ingressus, ultra Straddele castrametatus est; sed illi, quia virum fortem et bellicosum ipsum sciebant, cum eo committere bellum non audentes, in Suth-Waliam fugerunt.”

1173. See Flor. Wig. u. s. “Straddele” or “Stratelei” (see Domesday, 187) is a border district reckoned along with Herefordshire in Domesday. Roger of Wendover (i. 494), in a fine fit of exaggeration, carries Harold as far as Snowdon; “Castra usque ad Snaudunam perduxit.” Mr. Woodward (History of Wales, 210) makes Straddele to be Ystrad-clwyd, the southern Strathclyde of Denbighshire, but the witness of Florence and Domesday seems decisive.

1174. Fl. Wig. 1055. “Majorem exercitûs partem ibi dimisit, mandans eis ut suis adversariis, si res exposceret, viriliter resisterent.”

1175. I infer this from a comparison of the Chronicles, Florence, and Domesday. The Abingdon Chronicle says, “And Harald Eorl let dician ða dic abutan þæt port þa hwile.” Florence says more distinctly, “Herefordam rediens, vallo lato et alto illam cinxit, portis et seris munivit.” These accounts, as well as the probability of the case, point to a mere “vallum.” But in Domesday, 179, we read of there being a “murus” at Hereford in the time of King Eadward, which seems to imply a stone wall. Nothing is more likely than that Harold should throw up a hasty mound now, and afterwards make a more elaborate fortification, when, as I shall presently show, Hereford came under his immediate government. On the walls of Exeter and Towcester see vol. i. pp. 338, 346.

1176. One hundred and three burghers held of the King, twenty-seven of Earl Harold, whose customs were the same as those of the King’s men. The customs are detailed at great length. The burghers were liable to military service against the Welsh, and paid a fine of forty shillings to the King in case of disobedience to the Sheriff’s summons for that purpose. Some served with horses. The Reeve paid twelve pounds to the King and six to Earl Harold, that is the Earl’s third penny. The King had a mint, and also the Bishop. The whole details are exceedingly curious, and I shall probably have to refer to them again.

1177. Chronn. Ab. and Wig. Flor. Wig. 1056. “Cujus corpus Herefordam delatum, in ecclesiâ quam ipse a fundamentis construxerat, est tumulatum.” Yet he had the year before said, “monasterio quod ... Æthelstanus construxerat ... combusto.”

1178. Chron. Ab. 1055. “And þæt sciplið gewende to Legeceastre, and þær abiden heora males þe Ælfgar heom behét.” So Florence.

1179. The Worcester Chronicle, which, as well as (still more strangely) that of Peterborough, wholly leaves out Harold’s exploits, seems to record Ælfgar’s restoration with some degree of sarcasm; “And þa þa hi hæfdon mæst to yfele gedón, man gerædde þone ræd, þæt man Ælfgar Eorl geinnlagode, and ageaf him his eorldom, and eall þæt him ofgenumen wæs.”

1180. The Annales Cambriæ has “Magnus filius Haraldi vastavit regionem Anglorum, auxiliante Grifino Rege Britonum.” The Brut gives him the strange description, “Magnus uab Heralt, brenhin Germania” which I do not understand. Was he Ælfgar’s Irish ally, defrauded of his pay? The entry the year before, about waiting at Chester, looks like it.

1181. Fl. Wig. 1056. “In episcopali villâ quæ vocatur Bosanbyrig decessit.” A fine thirteenth century church and some remains of the episcopal manor still exist.

1182. The Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles here get poetical; Peterborough is, just here, strangely meagre; “And man sette Leofgar to biscupe; se wæs Haroldes Eorles mæsse-preost; se werede his kenepas on his preosthade, oððæt he wæs biscop. Se forlet his crisman and his hrode, his gastlican wæpna, and feng to his spere and to his sweorde æfter his biscuphade, and swa fór to fyrde ongean Griffin þone Wyliscan Cing.” Yet a fighting Bishop was not so wonderful a thing in those times. See vol. i. p. 432. William of Malmesbury, Gest. Pont. 163, makes some confusion, when he says, “Leovegar. Hunc tempore Regis Edwardi Grifin Rex Walensium urbe crematâ expulit sede et vitâ.” And Roger of Wendover makes some further confusion or other when he writes (i. 495), “Ethelstanus Herefordensis præsul obiit, et Levegarus, Ducis Haroldi capellanus, successit; hunc præsulem, in omni religione perfectum, Griffinus Rex Walensium, Herefordensi civitate crematâ, peremit.”

1183. Was Ælfnoth succeeded by Osbern? See p. 346.

1184. Chron. Ab. 1056. “Eaforðlic is to atellanne seo gedrecednes, and seo fare eall, and seo fyrdung, and þæt geswinc and manna fyll and eac horsa, þe eall Englahere dreah.”

1185. See above, pp. 153, 362, 372. The Chronicles distinctly say, “Ealdred bisceop feng to þam bisceoprice þe Leofgar hæfde.” Florence rather softens this into, “Aldredo Wigornensi præsuli, donec antistes constitueretur, commissus est episcopatus Herefordensis.” He kept it for four years, holding also the see of Ramsbury during part of the time.

1186. Fl. Wig. “Idem episcopus et Comites Leofricus et Haroldus cum Rege Eadwardo Walanorum Regem Griffinum pacificaverunt.”

1187. See above, p. 86.

1188. Chron. Ab. 1056. “Swa þæt Griffin swor aðas þæt he weolde beon Eadwarde Kinge hold Underkingc and unswicigende.”

1189. Domesday, 263. “Rex Eadwardus dedit Regi Grifino totam terram quæ jacebat trans aquam quæ De vocatur. Sed postquam ipse Grifin forisfecit ei, abstulit ab eo hanc terram, et reddidit episcopo de Cestre [the see had been moved thither before the Survey. See Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 164 b] et omnibus suis hominibus qui antea ipsam tenebant.” A “forisfactio” on the part of Gruffydd can hardly refer to his loss of his whole kingdom in 1063, and this moment of reconciliation and homage is obviously the most natural time for a partial surrender. We have here also another example of church lands being dealt with for political purposes in a way which would naturally give rise to those charges of sacrilege against Harold and others of which I have spoken elsewhere. See Appendix E.

1190. See above, p. 87.

1191. See the whole account in W. Rishanger, 90, ed. Riley.

1192. The see was at Ramsbury, but the Bishop is often called “Episcopus Wiltoniensium,” that is “of the men of Wiltunscír.” In Mercia and Northumberland the Bishopricks (much like the shires, see vol. i. p. 51) seem commonly to be spoken of by the names of the episcopal towns; in Wessex and East-Anglia it is as usual, or more so, to use the name of the tribe or district. See below, p. 406.

1193. See above, pp. 79–81, and 358.

1194. Will. Malm. Gest. Pont. ap. Scriptt. p. Bed. 142. “Ejus animi magnitudini, vel potius cupiditati, quum non sufficeret rerum angustia, quoniam apud Ramesberiam nec clericorum conventus, nec quo sustentaretur erat.”

1195. Ib. “Antecessores suos indigenas fuisse; se alienigenam nullo parentum compendio vitam quo sustentet habere.”

1196. See above, p. 115.

1197. Will. Malms. u. s. “Episcopum Schireburnensem ... cujus episcopatum suo uniendum antiquis Edgithæ Reginæ promissis operiebatur.”

1198. On the history of Savaric and his designs on Glastonbury, see the History of Adam of Domersham in Anglia Sacra, i. 578, and Mr. J. R. Green and Professor Stubbs in the Somersetshire Archæological Proceedings for 1863, pp. 39–42.

1199. Fl. Wig. 1055. “Offensus quia ei sedem episcopalem transferre de villâ quæ Reamnesbyrig dicitur ad abbatiam Malmesbyriensem Rex nollet concedere.” There is nothing in this short notice inconsistent with the fuller account given by William of Malmesbury.

1200. I have spoken above (p. 84) of the changes made by Leofric at Exeter, and I shall have to speak in my next Chapter of the like changes made by Gisa at Wells.

1201. Will. Malms. Scriptt. p. Bed. 142. “Excellentis prudentiæ monachi, audito quid in curiâ actum, quid justitiæ surreptum esset, ad Comitem Godwinum ejusque filium summâ celeritate contendunt.” William is here mistaken in mentioning Godwine, who of course was dead. The story cannot be removed to a time before Godwine’s death, as it is fixed to 1055 by the witness of Florence.

1202. Ib. “Id Rex pro simplicitate, cui pronior quam prudentiæ semper erat, legitimè concedendum ratus, tertio abhinc die dissoluit.”

1203. Ib. “Antequam Hermannus in re vel saisitione inviscaretur.”

1204. Ib. “Illi [Godwine and Harold, or, more truly, Harold only], rei indignâ novitate permoti, Regem adeunt, et à sententiâ deducunt; facile id fuit viris summis amplissimâ auctoritate præditis, quibus et caussæ rectitudo, et Regis facilitas suffragaretur. Ita Hermannus, necdum planè initiatus, expulsus est.”

1205. See above, p. 42.

1206. Fl. Wig. 1055. “Episcopatum dimisit, marique transfretato, apud Sanctum Bertinum monachicum habitum suscepit, ibique in ipso monasterio tribus annis mansit.” Saint Omer, it must be remembered, was at this time Flemish, and Flanders, and lands south of Flanders, were still largely Teutonic.

1207. William of Malmesbury (Scriptt. p. Bed. 142) makes himself merry over the grievances of a Bishop who had turned monk in a momentary fit of pique; “Sed ut ferè fit talibus, repentino illo impetu relligionis frigescente, indies in Angliam reditum meditabatur. Figebat [Pigebat?] hominem assuetum obsequiis, innutritum deliciis, carere delinimentis quæ ab ineunte fuerat expertus ætate.”

1208. William, strangely confounding his dates, fancies that Godwine died during Hermann’s absence at Saint Omer, and that Hermann was more likely to gain his point after Godwine’s death. He is followed by R. Higden, XV Scriptt. ii. 281, the passage so oddly perverted by Thierry. See above, p. 345.

1209. See Flor. Wig. 1058.

1210. William of Malmesbury continues to jeer at him to the last; “Accepit ergo Hermannus Schireburnensem episcopatum integrum cum tribus pagis, Edwardo Rege dante, vivacitateque suâ datoris annos transcendens ad Willielmi tempora duravit.” The three “pagi” are the three shires of which the united diocese was formed, Berkshire, Wiltshire, and Dorsetshire. So the Abingdon Chronicler recording his death in 1078; “Se wæs Biscop on Bearrucscire and on Wiltunscire and on Dorsætan.” Cf. note on p. 401.

1211. See vol. i. p. 349. Will. Malms. u. s.

1212. See above, p. 160.

1213. See Appendix G.

1214. Flor. Wig. 1056. “Ecclesiarum amator, pauperum recreator, viduarum et pupillorum defensor, oppressorum subventor, virginitatis custos, comes Agelwinus, id est Odda.” Cf. above, p. 161.

1215. Ib. “Ab Aldredo Wigornensi episcopo, ante suum obitum, monachizatus.” So Chronn. Ab. and Wig. 1056. “He wæs to munece gehadod ær his ende.”

1216. Flor. Wig. u. s. “Apud Deorhyrste decessit, sed in monasterio Persorensi honorificè sepultus quiescit.” So Chronn. Ab. and Wig. “His lic lið on Perscoran.” His brother Ælfric, for whose soul Deerhurst church was built (see above, p. 161), who died in 1053 (Fl. Wig. in anno), also died at Deerhurst and was buried at Pershore.

1217. See vol. i. p. 588. According to the Worcester Chronicle under the years 1041 and 1073, and the Peterborough Chronicle under 1072, Æthelric was consecrated to York, and was unjustly deprived of the metropolitan see (hit wæs mid unrihte him ofgenumon), on which he took Durham. Hugo Candidus, the Peterborough writer (ap. Sparke, 46), attributes his loss of the see of York to the natural dislike of the seculars to a monk; “facientibus quibusdam ex canonicis vel ex clericis, quia penè naturale est eis semper invidere monachis, quia monachus erat, noluerunt pati eum archiepiscopum esse.” But what vacancy was there at York in 1041 or 1042? Hugh is loud in his praise, but Simeon of Durham (Hist. Dun. Eccl. iii. 9, X Scriptt. 34) has much to say against him, charging him with robbing his church. In the third year of his episcopate he was driven out, but was restored by Earl Siward, on the receipt of a bribe (munere oblato). Digging at Chester-le-street to build a stone church on the site of the old wooden one, he found a treasure, which he spent in building churches and repairing roads near Peterborough.

1218. Flor. Wig. and Chronn. Wig. 1072. Petrib. 1073. Sim. Dun. u. s.

1219. Sim. Dun. u. s.

1220. These two brother monks and Bishops remind one of the opening of the Ormulum;

“Nu, broþerr Wallterr, broþerr min
Affterr þe flæshess kinde;
And broþerr min i Crisstenndom
Þurrh fulluhht and þurrh trowwþe;
And broþerr min i Godess hus
Ȝet o þe þride wise.”

Æthelwine, according to Simeon, had administered the Bishoprick of Durham under his brother.

1221. Chronn. Wig. and Petrib. 1059. The former breaks out into song, and gives us good authority for the surname of Ironside;

“Se wæs Eadwerdes
Broðor sunu kynges
Eadmund cing·
Irensíd wæs geclypod
For his snellscipe.”

Florence says, “Ut ei mandârat suus patruus Rex Eadwardus, de Ungariâ ... Angliam venit. Decreverat enim Rex illum post se regni hæredem constituere.”

1222. The death of the Emperor Henry the third is recorded in the Abingdon Chronicle under 1056, under the name of Cona, that is, of course, Conrad. The mistake in the name is odd, but there is no need to have recourse to Mr. Thorpe’s strange conjecture, A. S. Chronicles, ii. p. 159. The Peterborough Chronicle has a Latin entry with the true name “Henricus.”

1223. See vol. i. pp. 445, 455.

1224. The Tongues most familiar to Eadward would naturally be Magyar and High-Dutch.

1225. Chron. Ab. 1057;

“Wála þæt wæs hreowlic sið
And hearmlic
Eallre þissere þeode,
Þæt he swa raðe
His lif geendade,
Þæs þe he to Englalande cóm;
For ungesælhðe
Þissere earman þeode.”

1226. Chron. Petrib. 1057. “Her ... com Ædward æðeling, Eadmundes sunu cynges, hider to lande, and sona þæs gefor.” So Florence; “Ex quo venit parvo post tempore vitâ decessit Lundoniæ.”

1227. The song in the Abingdon Chronicle says;

“Ne wiston we
For hwylcan intingan
Þæt gedón wearð,
Þæt he ne moste
His mæges Eadwardes
Cynges geseón.”

1228. Lappenberg, p. 517 (ii. 259 Thorpe); “Doch ehe er noch seinen königlichen Oheim erblickte, von dessen Augen eine ihm ungünstige Partei, vermuthlich Earl Harolds, des nachherigen Königs, Freunde, ihn fern zu halten wusste, starb er plötzlich zu London.” He goes on however distinctly to absolve Harold from all share in his death.

1229. See Will. Gem. vii. 36. Ord. Vit. 500 C. Still more strongly, Guy of Amiens (129 et seqq.) and Liber de Hydâ, p. 293.

1230. Palgrave, Hist. Ang. Sax. 352. “He was buried in St. Paul’s Cathedral; and sad and ruthful [rueful?] were the forebodings of the English, when they saw him borne to his grave.—Harold gained exceedingly by this event. Did the Atheling die a natural death?—The lamentations of the chroniclers seem to imply more than meets the ear.” Mr. C. H. Pearson (Hist. of Eng. in the Early and Middle Ages, i. 244) does not scruple to repeat the insinuation.

1231. Unless indeed some tradition of the sort had found its way into the confused mind of Saxo (p. 203), when he made Harold murder King Eadward? He may have been thinking of Eadward the Ætheling, or he may have been writing purely at random.

1232. This is well put by Lappenberg in the passage quoted above, p. 411.

1233. William was charged with poisoning Conan of Britanny (Will. Gem. vii. 33), and also Walter of Mantes (Eadward’s nephew), and his wife Biota (Ord. Vit. 534 B). I shall have to speak of these matters in their proper place.

1234. Chron. Wig. 1057. Petrib. and Cant. 1058. Fl. Wig. 1057.

1235. Fl. Wig. 1057. “Laudabilis Comes Leofricus, Dusci Leofwini filius [Earl Leofric, son of Ealdorman Leofwine, see vol. i. pp. 456, 461], in propriâ villâ quæ dicitur Bromleage, in bonâ decessit senectute ii. Kal. Sept.” He had been Earl at least twenty-five years, perhaps thirty-three.

1236. Besides Bromton and Knighton quoted above (p. 48), Godgifu’s ride through Coventry appears in Roger of Wendover, i. 497.

1237. Florence (u. s.) distinctly says that Leofric and Godgifu built the church; “de suo patrimonio à fundamentis construxerunt.” But Orderic (511 A) says, “Elfgarus Comes Coventrense cœnobium construxit,” and goes on to speak of Godgifu’s gifts of ornaments; he is clearly confounding father and son.

1238. Fl. Wig. 1057. “Adeo ditaverunt ut in Angliâ tanta copia auri, argenti, gemmarum, lapidumque pretiosorum in nullo inveniretur monasterio, quanta tunc temporis habebatur in illo.” The charter about Coventry in Cod. Dipl. iv. 253 can hardly be genuine as it stands. Pope Alexander was not reigning in 1043.

1239. See Appendix BB.

1240. Chron. Wig. and Flor. Wig. in anno.

1241. Hugo Candidus, p. 44.

1242. See above, p. 367.

1243. See Appendix BB.

1244. See Appendix G.

1245. See Appendix CC.

1246. See vol. i. pp. 33, 34. Harold however did not command the whole Severn valley, as Worcestershire was now held by Ælfgar. See Appendix G.

1247. See Appendix G.

1248. See Appendix G.

1249. See above, p. 296 et seqq.

1250. This seems implied in the way in which William’s preparations are spoken of by the Chroniclers and Florence under 1066.

1251. Flor. Wig. 1066. “Quem Rex ante suam decessionem regni successorem elegerat.” I shall discuss this point at length in the third volume.

1252. See Appendix DD.

1253. He is “subregulus” in Florence, 1066.

1254. See vol. i. p. 533.

1255. Compare on the other hand the joint Kingship of Hugh and Robert in France (see vol. i. p. 269). So in England in after times we find Henry the son of Henry the Second crowned in his father’s lifetime. In the Empire the cases are endless. See above, p. 373, for that of the reigning King Henry the Fourth.

1256. See above, p. 188.

1257. De Inv. c. 14. “Quem [Haroldum] indigenæ præ cæteris postulabant et ardenter sitiebant post sanctum Regem Edwardum, ipsius morum et vitæ hæredem. Quod quidem divinâ miseratione processu temporis videre meruerunt qui tunc præsentes fuerunt.” When the Waltham writer wrote, “Eadwardus Simplex” had become a canonized saint.

1258. The authorities for this chapter are essentially the same as those for the last. With regard to the Chronicles, it may be noticed that the Abingdon Chronicle, which must be looked on as in some degree hostile to Godwine, is in no sort hostile to Harold. The Peterborough Chronicler, who seems rather to keep himself for great occasions, is rather meagre during this period. As Welsh matters are still prominent, the Welsh Chronicles have still to be consulted, and, towards the end of the period, the Northern Sagas again become of some little importance. But the characteristic of the period is the prominence of ecclesiastical affairs, which brings several local and legendary writers into a position of some consequence. Thus, for the history of Westminster, the tales of Æthelred of Rievaux and his followers have to be compared with the authentic narratives of contemporary chroniclers, and, as Harold’s great foundation comes within these years, we now begin to make use of the local Waltham writers. The main facts and fictions belonging to the local Waltham history are found in the two tracts, De Inventione Sanctæ Crucis and Vita Haroldi, which were first published by M. Francisque Michel in his Chroniques Anglo-Normandes (Rouen, 1840). From these I endeavoured in 1857 to put together the early history of Waltham, and of Harold in relation to Waltham, in a paper in the Transactions of the Essex Archæological Society, vol. ii. p. 34. But M. Michel’s editions are by no means accurate, and of the De Inventione he left out many chapters altogether. I was therefore led into some errors of detail. Since that time, a perfect edition of the De Inventione has been published, with a Preface, by Professor Stubbs (Oxford, 1861). The Vita Haroldi was written after 1205. In its essence, as regards the main facts of English history, it is a mere romance, but, like other local romances, it has its value for points of local description, and even for purely local facts. The De Inventione is a work of higher character. It was written by an anonymous Canon of Waltham, who was born in 1119, who entered the College in 1124, who was made a Canon before 1144, and who wrote after 1177, when he lost his prebend at the change in the foundation of Waltham under Henry the Second. This tract contains a good deal of legend, but no romance. The author writes in evident good faith, and with a manifest desire to be fair and accurate. He repeats the legends of his house as he heard them from his childhood; he was inclined, like the rest of his contemporaries, to see, and even to expect, miracles where we see only natural causes. But, making the necessary deductions on these scores, he is distinctly more trustworthy than the average of local historians. On his general character as an historian, and especially on the miraculous element in his narrative, see the remarks in Professor Stubbs’ Preface, p. xxvii.

As we have to deal with Westminster and Waltham, we have also to deal in a less degree with Wells and Worcester, two churches which figure prominently in the ecclesiastical history of these years. For Wells we have Gisa’s own narrative of his controversy with Harold, in the “Ecclesiastical Documents” published by the Camden Society. For Worcester we have the Life of its great Bishop Saint Wulfstan, by William of Malmesbury, in the second volume of Anglia Sacra, and the shorter Life by the contemporary Heming. This last is given in Old-English in Hearne’s edition of Heming’s Worcester Cartulary (a book which ought to be reprinted), p. 403, and in Latin in the first volume of Anglia Sacra.

1259. See Appendix EE.

1260. Ib.

1261. All our Chronicles save Abingdon, which is just now silent for a few years, mention the death of Stephen and the accession of Benedict. None of them imply any doubt as to Benedict’s legitimacy, but they use three different words to express his appointment. He is “to Papan geset” in Worcester, “gehalgod to Papan” in Peterborough, “gebletsod þarto” in Canterbury—in the last entry of that chronicle.

1262. See the Cardinal of Aragon’s Life of Nicolas, Muratori, iii. 301. He does not allow Benedict a place in his list. Yet the next Pope who assumed the name, in 1303, was called Benedict the Eleventh. Muratori, iii. 672. On these Popes, see Milman, Latin Christianity, iii. 47.

1263. Our Chronicles (Worcester and Peterborough) record the fact in nearly the same words under the year 1059; “Her on þisum geare wæs Nicolaus to Papan gecoren; se wæs biscop æt Florentie þære burh; and wæs Benedictus ut adrifen, se wæs ær Papa.” These last words may seem to imply a certain cleaving to Benedict. It is a pity that the strict and orthodox Abingdon writer (see above, p. 343) is silent, as he might have employed some other formula.

1264. Chronn. Wig. Petrib. Cant. 1058. See above, pp. 343, 344. Benedict was “corruptus pecuniâ,” according to John of Peterborough, 1058.

1265. The long-lived Godwine, or the latter of the two Godwines, vanishes in 1046. We hear nothing, as far as I know, of the disposition of the see in the meanwhile. The Godwine who (Chronn. Wig. Petrib.) died in 1061 seems to be a different person, a Suffragan Bishop of Saint Martin’s near Canterbury.

1266. The Chronicles significantly connect the consecration of Æthelric and Siward with the receipt of the pallium by Stigand. The Peterborough writer (1058) seems specially to mark it; “Her on þisum geare forðferde Stephanus Papa, and wæs Benedictus gehalgod to Papan. Se ylca sænde Stigande Arcebiscope pallium hider to lande. And on þisum geare forðferde Heaca biscop on Suðseaxan, and Stigand Arcebiscop hadode Ægelric monuc æt Christes cyrcean to biscop to Suðseaxum, and Siward abbot to biscop to Hrofeceastre.”

1267. Of these dangers we shall hear more distinctly in the case of the pilgrimage of Tostig in 1061. The Biographer now (410) tells us that Harold, “potenti munificentiâ veneratus sanctorum limina, per medios insidiantes cautus derisor more suo Dei gratiâ pervenit ad propria.” These words might have a deeper meaning; the visit to Normandy and the oath might be on his return; but the chances are the other way.

1268. Chron. Wig. 1058. “Her man ytte ut Ælfgar Eorl, ac he cóm sona inn ongean mid strece þurh Gryffines fultum; and her com scyphere of Norwegan. Hit is langsum to attellane eall hu hit gefaren wæs.” So Florence; “Algarus Merciorum Comes a Rege Eadwardo secundò exlegatus est; sed Regis Walanorum Griffini juvamine et Norreganicæ classis adminiculo, quæ ad illum venerat ex improviso, citò per vim suum comitatum recuperavit.” Is this the fleet mysteriously referred to by Tigernach (O’Conor, i. 301) under the same year? “Classis cum filio Regis Danorum [he probably means Norwegians] cum alienigenis Insularum Orcnensium et Ebudensium et Dubliniensium, ut subigeret sibi regnum Saxonum. Sed Deus contrarius fuit ei in re istâ.”

1269. This would apply to the entry in the Chronicle; but, if so, Florence, who marks the repetition of the word by the word “secundò,” was misled by it.

1270. When Morkere heads the Northumbrian revolt in 1065, the Biographer (p. 421) says of the sons of Ælfgar, “inter eos regiæ stirpis pueros et eumdem Ducem Tostinum ex veteri simultate odio [odia?] erant.” The “regia stirps” can refer only to some possible descent of the House of Leofric from ancient Mercian Kings. (Cf. vol. i. p. 456.) There is no sign of any connexion between them and the West-Saxon royal family.

1271. Hist. Mon. S. Petri Glouc. (ed. Hart), i. 1. et seqq. Cf. vol. i. p. 39.

1272. Ib. i. 7. “Sub potestate sæculari, usque ad tempus Wolstani episcopi Wygorniensis ... mirificè tradebatur.”

1273. See vol. i. p. 485.

1274. Hist. Mon. Glouc. i. 8. “Anno Domini millesimo vicesimo secundo Wolstanus Episcopus Wygorniensis, qui postea factus est Archiepiscopus Eboracensis, concedente Rege Cnuto, Duce Danorum, qui Ecclesiam Sanctam exaltavit, et libertates suas antiquas renovavit et promovit, ut dicit Petrus Pictavensis, hic Wolstanus clericos qui ecclesiam Sancti Petri antea rexerant et custodierant, sub protectione Dei et Apostolorum Petri et Pauli et regulâ beati Benedicti in eâdem ecclesiâ regulariter collocavit.” In this case the canons seem not to have been driven out, but to have taken the monastic vows on themselves. This was partly the case at Bury. See vol. i. p. 486.

1275. Hist. Glouc. i. 8. “Multa bona dissipavit.” Two lordships had to be sold to make good the losses caused by him.

1276. Chron. Wig. 1058. “On þam ilcan gere Ealdred bisceop halgode þæt mynster on Gleawcestre þe he sylf geforðode, Gode to lofe and Sc̃e Petre.” Florence mentions that the church was built by Ealdred “a fundamentis,” and adds, “postea Regis licentiâ, Wlstanum Wigornensem monachum à se ordinatum, Abbatem constituit ibidem.” The local history (p. 9), which calls him Wilstanus, gives the same account. The prominence here given to the Bishop of the Diocese is remarkable; we hear nothing of any election by the monks, but only of an Abbot chosen by the Bishop and confirmed by the King. One might fancy that Wulfstan, as founder, had retained some special rights of patronage over the monastery of Gloucester.

1277. Fl. Wig. 1058. See above, p. 406.

1278. See above, p. 372.

1279. After the consecration at Gloucester, says the Worcester Chronicler (1058), “swa ferde to Hierusalem, mid swilcan weorðscipe swa nan oðer ne dyde ætforan him;” “quod nullus,” adds Florence, “archiepiscoporum vel episcoporum Angliæ eatenus dinoscitur fecisse.”

1280. “Per Ungariam,” says Florence.

1281. Chron. Wig. “And hine sylfne þær Gode betæhte, and wurðlic lac eac geoffrode to ures Drihtenes byrgene, þæt was an gylden calic, on fíf marcon swiðe wundorlices geworces.” The chronicler, just as at the time of the mission to Köln, clearly rejoices in the splendour and bounty of his own Bishop.

1282. Oddly enough, it is the Worcester and not the Peterborough Chronicler who records this purely local fact; “on þisan gere wæs se stypel gehalgad æt Burh on xvi. kal. Novemb.”

1283. See above, p. 350.

1284. Chron. Mon. Evesham, p. 88. “Transiit quoque vir ille Mannius eâdem nocte et horâ quâ Rex gloriosus Æduuardus, festivitate scilicet sanctæ Epiphaniæ Domini.” But Eadward died on the eve of the Epiphany not on the Epiphany itself.

1285. Ib. 87. “Nunc sub eo jure præpositi totius abbatiæ hujus curam agebat.”

1286. There is here a chronological difficulty. The Evesham Chronicle fixes the date to April 23, 1059. Mannig died on the same day as Eadward, that is January 5, 1066; seven years, so the historian says, after his resignation. This makes the year of Æthelwig’s appointment 1059. For day and place we are told (88), “Rex ... fecit eum apud Glocestre, ubi tunc curiam suam tenebat, coram multis principibus hujus patriæ ab Aldredo Archiepiscopo honorabiliter in paschali sollemnitate die festivitatis sancti Georgii martyris consecrari.” Now it is hardly likely that Ealdred, who had left for Jerusalem seemingly not very early in the year before, could have been again in England so soon as Saint George’s Day, 1059. Also it was not the Easter but the Christmas festival which was commonly held at Gloucester. That Ealdred is called Archbishop before his time is a common slip. Perhaps (see Mr. Macray’s note on p. 87) the reckoning of seven years is wrong, and the date was really 1058, before Ealdred left England; or the wrong season may be given (though this seems hardly likely, and the usual places of the Gemóts were sometimes departed from); or the ceremony may have been really performed by some other Bishop, and Ealdred’s name may have been carelessly inserted because he was known to be Bishop of the Diocese at the time.

1287. See above, p. 42.

1288. When I say that this mistake is found in Sharon Turner (Hist. of England, i. 79, 81, 84), in Sir Francis Palgrave (Hist. of Anglo-Sax. 378, 388), and in Lappenberg (p. 556 of the original, ii. 302 of Mr. Thorpe’s translation), it is not wonderful that it is found also in Thierry (lib. iii.) as well as in Dr. Vaughan (Revolutions in English History, i. 298), in M. Emile de Bonnechose (ii. 283), and in Mr. St. John (ii. 275). Yet, without looking to the local historians, or to the writers who record the change of foundation under Henry the Second, they need only have turned to William of Malmesbury, iii. 247; “Ecclesiam ... canonicis impleverat.”

1289. See R. Hoveden. Scriptt. p. Bed. 320. Rad. de Dic. X Scriptt. c. 598. R. Wend. ii. 387. Gervase (X Scriptt. 1434). Cf. Vita Haroldi (Chron. A. N. ii. 164).

1290. See vol. i. p. 590.

1291. De Inv. c. 14. There is something strange in the statement of the Waltham writer that Æthelstan did not succeed to all his father’s estates, but only to those attached to the stallership.

1292. See above, p. 63.

1293. De Inv. c. 14. “Adelstanus, pater Esegari qui stalre inventus est in Angliæ conquisitione à Normannis.” He was staller as early as 1044, as appears from a writ in Cod. Dipl. iv. 221, where he is addressed along with Bishop Ælfwold, who died in that year. He signs many charters, among others the Waltham charter of 1062 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 159), with the title of “regiæ procurator aulæ,” equivalent, according to Professor Stubbs, to “dapifer.” See his note to De Inv. c. 14.

1294. De Inv. c. 14. So in the Waltham Charter (iv. 155), “Cuidam meorum Comitum, onomate Haroldo, quamdam terram quæ antiquitùs ab incolis illius loci nuncupatur Waltham, hæreditario jure concessi.”

1295. The building of the church is affirmed in the Charter (iv. 155); “In præscripto loco monasterium ad laudem Domini nostri Jesu Christi et sanctæ Crucis construxit ... fundatum ... monasterium ... dedicari fecit.” So De Inv. 16; “Venusto enim admodum opere a fundamentis constructam [ecclesiam].” The romantic Biographer (p. 161) is much fuller in his description. On the application of the word “monasterium” to a secular church, see vol. i. p. 472.

1296. See Appendix EE.

1297. The nature of the foundation, the offices of its several members, and the discipline to be observed, are set forth at large in the 15th chapter of the De Inventione, and are fully commented on by Professor Stubbs in his Preface, pp. xiii. xiv.

1298. The charter first mentions the building of the church, then adds, “Primum concedens ei terram quæ vocatur Norðlande, unde ecclesiam villæ antiquitùs dotatam invenit;” then comes the consecration, then the ornaments and the relics; then “Quid plura? suæ denique conditionis non immemor, ibidem quorumdam catervulam fratrum secundum auctoritatem sanctorum patrum canonicæ regulæ [canonical, as opposed to monastic] subjectam constituit.” Cod. Dipl. iv. 155.

1299. The legendary Biographer very well describes the object of the foundation (pp. 160–161); “At vir magnificus, locum et loci cultum omnimodis cupiens cum suis cultoribus sublimare, novam ibi basilicam fabricare, ministrorum augere numerum, redditusque eorum proponit ampliare; utque celebriorem famâ, illustriorem clericorum frequentiâ, cœlestibus nobilitatam muneribus, locum terrigenis exhibet, scholas ibidem instituere ... dispositione satagebat prudenti.”

1300. See above, p. 41.

1301. On Adelard see De Inv. c. 15, and Stubbs, Preface, p. ix. In c. 25 the author calls Adelard, “institutor et ordinator præsentis ecclesiæ.” The Biographer (pp. 155–9) has a legend, which makes him a physician, sent over by the Emperor to cure Harold of a paralysis, which baffled the skill of English doctors. It baffled the skill of Adelard also, but, being a devout man, he recommends the Holy Rood of Waltham as the best resource, and by its virtue Harold is cured. Harold then founds the College, and puts Adelard at the head of the school. All this is made to follow Harold’s great Welsh campaign of 1063. The writer may have confounded it with the campaign of 1055. Harold, as we shall see, did suffer from the gout.

1302. De Inv. 25. His son Peter was Master when the author was a boy. He was a “fons uberrimus disciplinis doctrinam scaturiens.”

1303. Cod. Dipl. iv. 155. “Ut non solùm Dei cultor efficiatur, verùm etiam canonicæ regulæ strenuus institutor fieri credatur.”

1304. In 1857 I showed that the year must have been either 1059 or 1060. Professor Stubbs has now incontestably fixed it to the latter year.

1305. Professor Stubbs shows that the list of persons present at the consecration, as given in the De Inventione, c. 16, is taken from the list of signatures to the Charter. The author evidently thought that it was drawn up and signed at Waltham at the time. But he has thus fallen into some mistakes, as he introduces Walter and Gisa as Bishops, which they were in 1062, and therefore sign the charter as such, but which they were not in 1060. He also calls Gisa Bishop of Chichester instead of Wells.

1306. See vol. i. p. 471.

1307. The Waltham writer (De Inv. c. 16) goes so far as to say that Cynesige officiated “quia tunc vacabat sedes Cantuariæ.” See Appendix U.

1308. Chronn. Wig. and Petrib. 1060. Flor. Wig. 1060. Hugo Candidus (Sparke, 45). This last writer is loud in Cynesige’s praise, and records his gifts to Peterborough, which the Lady Eadgyth took away.

1309. Fl. Wig. 1060. “Wigornensis episcopus Aldredus ad archiepiscopatum in Nativitate Domini eligitur.” It may perhaps be thought that such speed is impossible, and that “eligitur” must be taken of a capitular election at York on Christmas-Day, which would be confirmed by the King and his Witan at some later Gemót. We have certainly heard of capitular elections thus confirmed or rejected, in one case at Durham (vol. i. p. 565) and in one case at Canterbury (see above, p. 119); but the grant of the Bishoprick of Hereford to Walter is so clearly connected with the promotion of Ealdred to York that we must suppose the two to have taken place in the same Assembly. I do not know why “eligere” may not be said of the Witan as well as of the Chapter; or, if any one pleases, it is quite possible that enough members of the Church of York may have been present in the Gemót to go through a canonical election at Gloucester, which the King and his Witan would at once confirm.

1310. Flor. Wig. 1060. “Herefordensis præsulatus ... capellano Edgithæ Reginæ Waltero Lotharingo est datus.” His writ of appointment is given in Cod. Dipl. iv. 194.

1311. In 1060, according to the Worcester Chronicle and Florence; in 1061 according to the Peterborough Chronicle.

1312. Flor. Wig. 1060. His writ is given in Cod. Dipl. iv. 195. The local historian of Wells (Ang. Sac. i. 559), with the notions of the fifteenth century, makes Gisa receive his appointment, as well as his consecration, from the Pope; “Hic quum in quâdam ambassiatâ cum aliis à dicto Rege ad Apostolicam Sedem missus fuisset pro quibusdam negotiis conscientiam dicti Regis moventibus, Apostolicus sibi contulit sedem Wellensem.” Gisa was born (see his own account, Ecclesiastical Documents, p. 16) at Saint Trudo, a town of the district of Hasbain in the Bishoprick of Lüttich. Florence says of Duduc and Gisa that they were “ambo de Lotharingiâ oriundi,” but Duduc was certainly a Saxon.

1313. On the dispute between Harold and Gisa, see Appendix FF.

1314. See his language in pp. 18, 19 of his narrative.

1315. Matth. Paris. Vitt. xxiii. Abb. ii. 47.

1316. Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. Scriptt. p. Bed. 163.

1317. Hist. Ep. Som. 16–19. “Tunc ecclesiam sedis meæ perspiciens esse mediocrem, clericos quoque quatuor vel quinque absque claustro et refectorio esse ibidem ... Quos publicè vivere et inhonestè mendicare necessariorum inopia antea coegerat.”

1318. See Appendix FF.

1319. Among other things, he bought Combe from “Arsere” (p. 18), who on reference to Domesday (89) appears as Azor, seemingly the same Thegn of whom Earl Godwine bought Woodchester in Gloucestershire. See Appendix E. Azor signs many charters, and in the Waltham document (Cod. Dipl. iv. 159) he appears as “Regis dapifer.”

1320. See above, p. 84.

1321. On these synods, held April 13th and May 1st, 1059, see Stubbs, Mosheim, ii. 47.

1322. We have seen that he found his Canons “absque claustro et refectorio,” things with which they could perfectly well dispense. Then he goes on (p. 19), “Quos publice vivere ... canonicali, ditatos, instruxi obedientiâ. Claustrum verò et refectorium et dormitorium illis præparavi, et omnia quæ ad hæc necessaria et competentia fore cognovi, ad modum patriæ meæ laudabiliter advocavi.” On the Provostship of Wells, part of this institution, see Professor Stubbs in Gentleman’s Magazine, November 1864, p. 624.

1323. See above, p. 446.

1324. Fl. Wig. 1061. Vita Eadw. 411. Æthelred Riev. X Scriptt. 387. The reason for these Bishops going to Rome for consecration is most clearly expressed in an incidental entry in Florence under the year 1070; “Ambo Romæ à Nicolao Papâ ordinati sunt, quando Aldredus Eboracensium archiepiscopus pallium suscepit: vitabant enim a Stigando, qui tunc archiepiscopatui Doruberniæ præsidebat, ordinari, quia illum noverant non canonicè pallium suscepisse.” See Appendix U. The King’s orders seem implied in the words of Gisa himself (Hist. Ep. Som. 16); “Ego quem Rex Edwardus, licet vitæ meritis indignum, Romæ direxit et à Nicolao Papâ ordinatum ... honorificè recepit.”

1325. See above, p. 113.

1326. W. Thorn. X Scriptt. 1785.

1327. Chron. Petrib. 1061. “And on þam sylfan geare forðferde Wulfric abbod æt Sc̃e Augustine innon þære Easter wucan on xiv. Kal. Mai.” It is remarkable how many eminent persons—Earl Godwine, Archbishop Cynesige, and King Eadward himself are the most remarkable—died while the Witan were actually sitting, to the great convenience of those who had to elect their successors.

1328. The story continues, “Ða com þam cynge word þæt se abbot Wulfric forðgefaren wæs, þa geceas he [no mention of capitular election] Æðelsige munuc þærto.” On Windsor see Cod. Dipl. iv. 178, 209, 227.

1329. See above, pp. 113, 372.

1330. Hist. Rams. c. 119. We shall hear of Æthelsige again.

1331. Chron. Wig. 1061. “Her for Ealdred biscop to Rome æfter his pallium.”

1332. The Worcester Chronicle merely says, “And se Eorl Tostig and his wif eac foron to Rome.” The Biographer (410, 411) adds Gyrth, Gospatric, and others, as their companions. On Burchard, son of Ælfgar, see Appendix BB.

1333. Vita Eadw. 410. “Transfretavit, et per Saxoniam et superiores Rheni fines Romam tetendit.”

1334. Ib. 411. “Venerant quoque ex præcepto Regis ... Gyso et Walterius.”

1335. Æthel. Riev. 386. Est. de Seint Ædward, 2324 et seqq. But the fact rests on better authority. The Biographer (411) speaks of Ealdred as going to Rome—“ut ibi scilicet et regiæ legationis caussam peroraret, et usum pallii obtineret.” So Gisa himself (Hist. Ep. Som. 16) says that he came back “privilegium apostolicæ auctoritatis mecum deferens.”

1336. Vita Eadw. 410. “Romæ ab Apostolico Nicolao, honore quo decebat susceptus, à latere ejus in ipsâ Romanâ synodo ab eo coactus sedit secundus.” So Gisa (u. s.) says “post peractam ibi synodum.” William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 154) calls it “synodus quam contra simoniacos coegerat [Nicolaus].” He also mentions the honours shown to Tostig. But this synod cannot have been, as Æthelred (387) makes it, the Second Lateran Council. That assembly, according to the Chronicle of Bernold of Constanz (Pertz, v. 427), was held in 1060, but the real date was April 13, 1059. See its Acts in Pertz, Legg. ii. Ap. 177. Milman, iii. 49. And cf. above, p. 452.

1337. See what profess to be the letters in Cod. Dipl. iv. 183.

1338. Gisa himself (u. s.) fixes the day to April 15th.

1339. Vita Eadw. 411. “Apostolicis et pontificalibus decretis examinantibus et omni synodo censente, à petitione suâ repulsus, non solùm usum pallii non obtinuit, verùm ab episcopatûs gradu dejectus in hâc confusione recedere habuit.”

1340. Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 154. “Gisonem et Walterum voti compotes reddidit, qui essent non usquequaque contemnendæ scientiæ et nullius notati ignominiâ simoniæ. Aldredum suâpte responsione culpabilem utrobique repertum omni honore severus exspoliavit.” But, in his Life of Wulfstan (Ang. Sac. ii. 250), he says, “Nam nec ille Wigornensi præsulatui renunciare, nec Papa nisi cederet Eboracensi eum pallio insignire volebat.” The Biographer (411) is not very clear, but he seems rather to make the translation the objection; “Perscrutatus ergo qualiter ad sacros accessisset ordines, eo gratuitu confitente inventus est à primo ordinationis suæ Episcopo [episcopatu?] ad alium [aliud MS.] commigrâsse contra canones.”

1341. Vita Eadw. 412. “Quum caussâ Aldredi Episcopi Dux in Româ prehendinaret diutiùs, uxorem suam et omnem regiæ dignitatis suæ comitatum præmiserat cum suis majoris numeri hominibus, et hi processerant prosperè.”

1342. The Biographer, who first (411) calls them “latrones,” afterwards (412) promotes them into “militares.”

1343. “Adolescens Gaius Patricius nomine” (411). The same strange perversion of the name is made by Orderic (512 C). This may be the Gospatric mentioned there as taking a part in the resistance to William in Northumberland. It is to be hoped for Tostig’s sake that it was.

1344. “Suis propriis rebus donatus,” says the Biographer, 412.

1345. Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 154. “Ita differenti effectu quum regrederentur [he conceives Gisa and Walter to have been of the party], una pariter ærumna omnes involvit; nam prædonibus irruentibus, præter simplices vestes exspoliatis omnibus, ad nummum valens corporibus tamen illæsis Romam refugere.”

1346. Vita Eadw. 412. “Confusè ergo et miserabiliter reversis Romana pietas indoluit, veritusque Dominus Papa maximè clarissimi Ducis petitionem,” &c.

1347. Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 154. “Futurum ut hæc Rex Anglorum audiens tributum Sancti Petri meritò Nicolao subtraheret, se non defuturum rerum veritati exaggerendæ. Hoc minarum fulmine Romani territi Papam flexerunt.” This follows a good hearty English denunciation, of which I have given the substance in the text. To the same effect in the Life of Wulfstan, ii. 250.

1348. Such is William of Malmesbury’s account. The Biographer, in his rhetoric, leaves out the condition.

1349. Vita Eadw. 412. “Ducem consolatus est caritativâ allocutione, allatis insuper magis xeniis ex beati Petri largitate.”

1350. See Appendix BB.

1351. See above, p. 116.

1352. Sim. Dun. Gest. Regg. 1061. “Interim Rex Scottorum Malcolmus sui conjuncti fratris, scilicet Comitis Tostii, comitatum ferociter depopulatus est, violatâ pace sancti Cuthberti in Lindisfarnensi insulâ.”

1353. Vita Wlst. 250. Ealdred is to resign Worcester, and a good successor is to be chosen; “Hujus igitur conditionis arbitros, et quædam alia ecclesiastica negotia in Angliâ expedituros, Cardinales adductos Archiepiscopus Regi exhibuit.” Florence (1062) calls them “legatos sedis apostolicæ ... Armenfredum scilicet, Sedunensem Episcopum, et alium, qui a Domino Papâ Alexandro pro responsis ecclesiasticis ad Regem Anglorum Eadwardum missi ... Wigorniæ ... degebant.” I quote the fuller Life by William of Malmesbury as “Vita Wlstani,” and the shorter one by Heming by name.

1354. Vita Wlst. 250. “Adeò illum amor Wigorniæ devinxerat.”

1355. Florence mentions their sojourn at Worcester, and their admiration of Wulfstan; the Life makes them actually his guests.

1356. Fl. Wig. “Exspectantes responsum suæ legationis usque ad curiam regalem proximi Paschæ.” So the Life, but less clearly.

1357. See above, pp. 372, 436.

1358. Vita Wlst. 251. “Maximæ quantùm ad sæculum prudentiæ, quantùm ad religionem non minimæ.” But the Evesham historian (p. 87) calls him “honestis moribus valde probatum, tam generis nobilitate quàm divinâ lege ac sæculari prudentiâ plurimum valentem.”

1359. Hist. Evesh. pp. 88, 89.

1360. Vit. Wlst. 251. “Quamvis Æthelwius sollicitè anniteretur partibus.”

1361. Ib. “Aldredus, pro pacto quod fecerat Apostolico, nonnullo tempore fluctaverat animo; utrum ad episcopatum eligeret Ethelwii perspicacem industriam in sæculo, an Wlstani simplicem religionem in Deo. Erant enim illi viri Wigornensis diœcesis diverso respectu præstantissimi.”

1362. Flor. Wig. 1062. “Anno ætatis suæ plus quinquagesimo.”

1363. Æthelstan in the Life, Eatstan according to Florence.

1364. Vita Wlst. 244. Ervenius was a skilful illuminator, and wrote a Sacramentary for King Cnut and a Psalter for the Lady Emma. Cnut (249) gave both the books to the Emperor Conrad; his son Henry the Third gave them to Ealdred, who brought them back from Köln and gave them to Wulfstan. Emma had another Psalter whose adventures in Normandy we have already come across. See above, p. 233.

1365. The story is given at length in the Life, p. 245.

1366. Brihtheah was Bishop from 1033 to 1038 (Chron. Wig. 1033. Ab. 1038). This fixes the date of Wulfstan’s ordination and profession. Brihtheah was one of the embassy which took Gunhild to Germany (Heming, Cart. 267). He had a brother Æthelwig, who enlarged the presbytery of Saint Peter’s Church in Worcester (Ib. 342).

1367. Vita Wlst. 246. “Obtulit ei plusquam semel Antistes ecclesiam suburbanam, cujus opulenti reditus ad quotidianam stipem satis superque sufficerent.”

1368. Ib. 247. “Præpositus, ut tunc, Prior, ut nunc dicitur, monachorum constitutus.” “Prior et pater congregationis,” says Florence, adding “ab Aldredo episcopo ponitur.” It will be remembered that, in a cathedral monastery, the Bishop was Abbot, so the Prior was the immediate head of the society.

1369. Ib. 248. “Jam enim venalitas ex infernalibus umbris emerserat, ut nec illud gratis presbyteri præberent infantibus sacramentum, si non infarcirent parentes marsupium.” Adam of Bremen (iv. 30) brings the same charge against the Norwegian and Danish clergy; but he allows it to be their only fault, and attributes it to the unwillingness of the “barbarians” to pay tithe.

1370. Heming, Vita Wlst. Angl. Sacr. i. 541. “Venerabilis interea Comitissa Godgiva, famâ bonitatis ejus auditâ, totis illum cœpit diligere visceribus, et diversis hujus sæculi subvenire necessitatibus.” See Appendix E.

1371. Will. Malms. Vit. Wlst. 248. See above, p. 41.

1372. Fl. Wig. 1062. “Fit unanimis consensus tam cleri quam etiam totius plebis in ejus electione, Rege videlicet annuente ut quem sibi vellent præsulem eligerent.” He goes on to mention the coming of the Legates and their visit to Worcester, and adds; “Hi videntes, dum ibi morabantur, ejus laudabilem conversationem, in ejus electione non tantùm consentiebant, immo etiam tam clerum quam plebem maximè ad hoc instigabant, suâque auctoritate ejus electionem firmabant.” This seems, especially considering the passage about the King, certainly to imply a preliminary election by the clergy and people of Worcester, which the Witan had to confirm or reject. It is hardly possible that by “clerus et plebs” he can mean the Gemót itself. He speaks of the Legates waiting for the Gemót, but it is from the Life that we get the details of the debate.

1373. Vita Wlst. 251. “Ad Curiam reversi, dum Wigornensis Episcopi ventilaretur electio, nomen ejus tulerunt in medium.” It must have been a wholesome thing for Roman Cardinals to come face to face with an Assembly in whose proceedings order and freedom had already learned to kiss one another.

1374. Ib. “Adstipulabantur votis Cardinalium Archiepiscopi Cantuariensis et Eboracensis, ille favore, iste testimonio [I suppose this means that Ealdred spoke from his own knowledge, and Stigand from the report of others], ambo judicio. Accedebant laudibus etiam Comites Haraldus et Elgarus, par insigne fortitudinis, non ita religionis.”

1375. Ib. “Sanctus ergo ad Curiam exhibitus jubetur suscipere donum Episcopatûs [the King’s writ?]. Contra ille niti, et se honori tanto imparem cunctis reclamantibus clamitare.”

1376. Fl. Wig. 1262. “Illo obstinatissimè renuente, seque indignum acclamante et cum sacramento etiam affirmante se multò libentiùs decollationi quàm tam altæ ordinationi succumbere velle.”

1377. “Frustra Cardinales cum Archiepiscopis trivissent operam, nisi refugienti prætendissent Papæ obedientiam.” So says the Life, p. 251, and the argument is one which would doubtless be used, though one may doubt whether Stigand was specially eloquent on behalf of the Papal claims. But the matter was clearly not settled at once in the Easter Gemót. Florence witnesses to the final persuasion wrought by the “inclusus” Wulfsige, who, after his long solitude, was not likely to be among the assembled Witan. (We shall hear of Wulfsige again.) The dates also prove the delay. Florence tells us that the canonical confirmation was on August 29th, the consecration on September 8th.

1378. See Appendix U.

1379. Fl. Wig. 1062. “Coram Rege et regni optimatibus.” Or, as Florence, when he speaks of the Witan, is rather fond of using popular language, this may mean some smaller Council.

1380. Ib. “Se nullum jus ecclesiasticæ seu sæcularis subjectionis super eum deinceps velle clamare, nec propter quod ab eo consecratus est, nec quia ante consecrationem ejus monachus factus est.”

1381. Vita Wlst. 251. “Rex ergo Edwardus Wlstanum Wigornensi episcopatu ex solido investivit; licet illum Aldredus potentiâ quâ vigebat multis et penè omnibus ... prædiis vellicaverit.” The Gloucester historian (i. 9) charges him with having dealt in the same way with that Monastery on his appointing the other Wulfstan to be its Abbot.

1382. This is the charter in Cod. Dipl. iv. 154, already so often quoted. The signatures are very numerous. Stigand, though excluded from the consecration of the minster, signs the charter; so does the Norman Bishop William, also Bishop Gisa, various French courtiers, Esegar the Staller, and Earl Ælfgar. Harold’s own signature takes a very practical shape; “Ego Haroldus Dux operando consolido.”

1383. See Appendix GG.

1384. This seems implied in the verses of the Biographer, p. 425;

“Quis canit occiduos modulator in orbe Britannos,

Gentem Caucasiis rupibus ingenitam,
Indomitam fortemque nimis regnante Griphino,
Nec jam contentam finibus occiduis?
Ultra sed sceleris cursum tulit arma Syvernæ,
Vimque ejus regnum pertulit Angligenûm.”

1385. This is implied in the Worcester Chronicle, 1063. “On þissum geare for Harold Eorl æfter Middanwintre of Gleaweceastre to Rudelan.” Florence is fuller. Harold goes “jussu Regis Eadwardi,” and the reason assigned is “ut Regem Walanorum Griffinum, propter frequentes depopulationes quas in Anglorum finibus agebat, ac verecundias quas domino suo Regi Eadwardo sæpe faciebat, occideret.” A bill of attainder was seemingly passed against Gruffydd, just like that which, at another Gloucester Gemót, nine years before, had been passed against Rhys, the brother of the other Gruffydd. See above, p. 349.

1386. Fl. Wig. 1063. “Equitatu non multo secum assumpto.” The Housecarls were clearly the only troops fitted for a sudden enterprise of this kind. Riding to the field, but fighting on foot, they were dragoons in the earlier sense of the word.

1387. Flor. Wig. “Eodemque die rediit.”

1388. Joan. Sarisb. Polyc. vi. 6 (iv. 16—18 Giles). His general argument is, “Videsne quantùm electio ducis et exercitium juventutis militiæ conferant?” He introduces Harold thus; “Anglorum recens narrat historia, quod, quum Britones, irruptione factâ, Angliam depopularentur, à piissimo Rege Edwardo ad eos expugnandos missus est Dux Haraldus, vir quidem in armis strenuus [his common epithet with Florence], et laudabilium operum fulgens insignibus, et qui tam suam quam suorum posset apud posteros gloriam dilatare, nisi meritorum titulos, nequitiam patris imitans, perfidè præsumpto regno, decoloraret.”

1389. He enlarges at some length on the inadequate preparations made in his time to resist the invaders; “Nivicollini Britones irruunt, et jam protendunt terminos suos, et egressi de cavernis suis latebrisque silvarum, plana occupant, nobilium procerum, videntibus ipsis, impugnant, expugnant, et diruunt, aut sibi retinent, munitiones.” After some rhetorical complaints of the luxury of his own age, he goes on, “Depopulantur illi fines nostros; dum juventus nostra instruitur, et dum nobis miles armatur, hostis evadit.” Presently comes the account of Harold.

1390. De Illaud. Walliæ, ii. 7, ap. Ang. Sacr. ii. 451. He describes Harold’s campaign, and adds, “Ob has igitur tam cruentas tamque recentes Anglorum de hâc gente victorias primi tres Normannorum Reges in tantâ subjectione tamque pacificam suis diebus Walliam tenuere.”

1391. Fl. Wig. 1063. “Frater suus Comes Tostinus, ut Rex mandârat, cum equestri occurrit exercitu.” The Worcester Chronicle says, “Tostig fór mid landferde ongean.” “Landferd” is here opposed to Harold’s fleet. Tostig had probably troops of both kinds in his army, but the “equestris exercitus” implies that some were Housecarls.

1392. See above, p. 389.

1393. Giraldus (Angl. Sacr. ii. 452), in his very curious remarks on the right way to carry on a Welsh war, enlarges on the necessity of being prepared for poor fare. The Marchers are “Gens ... cibo potuque non delicata, tam Cerere quam Baccho caussis urgentibus abstinere parata.” It was now no doubt that Harold showed that power of enduring “infinitos labores, vigilias, et inediam,” of which the Biographer had spoken, p. 409. See above, p. 38.

1394. The Biographer makes a distinct allusion to the change of tactics, p. 425;

“Quum volucres Angli sub Haroldo præside juncti

Tostini cuneis agminibusque citis.”

Were this writer less rhetorical, one might think that cunei meant specially the Housecarls, as distinguished from the “agmina cita” of the light-armed. Cf. Giraldus (ii. 451); “Haroldus ultimus, qui pedes ipse, cumque pedestri turmâ et levibus armis victuque patriæ conformi [see on the Welsh fare just above], tam validè totam Kambriam et circuivit et transpenetravit.” But the fullest account is given by John of Salisbury (iv. 18); “Quum ergo gentis cognosceret levitatem, quasi pari certamine militiam eligens expeditam, cum eis censuit congrediendum, levem exercens armaturam, perornatus incedens fasciis pectus et præduro tectus corio, missilibus eorum levia objectans ancilia, et in eos contorquens nunc spicula, nunc mucronem exercens, sic fugientium vestigiis inhærebat, ut premeretur ‘pede pes et cuspide cuspis,’ et umbo umbone repelleretur.”

1395. Vita Eadw. 426;

“Gnarus inaccessis scrobibus se credere miles,

Tutius hostiles involet unde acies,
Saltibus et scopulis fretus regione malignâ,
Sic vexat longâ lite Duces geminos.”

So John of Salisbury (iv. 18); “Nivium itaque collem ingressus, vastavit omnia.”

1396. Giraldus (ii. 451). “In cujus victoriæ signum perpetuamque memoriam lapides in Walliâ more antiquo in titulum erectos locis, in quibus victor exstiterat, literas hujuscemodi insculptas habentes plurimos invenies; Hic fuit victor Haroldus.” I am not aware that any of these monuments now remain. The stones at Trelech in Monmouthshire, sometimes thought to be a memorial of one of Harold’s victories, must be far older, and Monmouthshire is not likely to have been the scene of war.

1397. Ib. (ii. 453). “Ibi capiuntur milites, hic decapitantur; ibi redimuntur, hic perimuntur.”

1398. Joan. Sarisb. iv. 18. “Usque ad miserationem parvulorum omnem masculum qui inveniri potuit interficiens, in ore gladii pacavit provinciam.” So Harold’s biographer, though confounding the chronology (see above, p. 442), says (Vita Haroldi, 155) truly enough, “Viribus autem corporis quantum præstiterit, quam acer et strenuus [mark the standing epithet] animis armisque innotuerit, subacta, immo ad internecionem per Haroldum penè deleta, Wallia est experta.”

1399. Giraldus (ii. 451). “Ut in eâdem fere mingentem ad parietem non reliquerit.”

1400. John of Salisbury extends the campaign over two years, and Florence places the death of Gruffydd in 1064. But both the Worcester and the Peterborough Chronicles distinctly place the whole story between May and August 1063.

1401. Fl. Wig. 1063. “Regem suum Griffinum exlegantes abjecerunt.”

1402. Chron. Wig. 1063. “Se wæs kyning ofer eall Wealcyn.”

1403. I quote literally the Brut y Tywysogion. Its wrong date, 1061, is corrected in the Annales Cambriæ into 1063. “Griffinus filius Lewelini Rex Britonum nobilissimus dolo suorum occisus est.”

1404. Chron. Wig. He is slain “fram his agenum mannum, þurh þæt gewin þe he won wiþ Harold Eorl.”

1405. The Peterborough Chronicler is almost startling in his terse brevity; “And þæt folc heom gislodon and to bugon, and foron syððan to, and ofslogon heora cyng Griffin and brohton Harolde his heafod.” By John of Salisbury’s time it was forgotten that Gruffydd was killed by his own people; with him Harold “Reges cepit et capita eorum Regi qui eum miserat præsentavit” (iv. 18). The death of Gruffydd had however been decreed in the Christmas Gemót. See above, p. 468.

1406. Chron. Wig. “And Harold hit [Gruffydd’s head] þam kynge brohte, and his scipes heafod and þa bone þermid.” I do not know what the “bone” means. The Biographer (426) says nothing about the death of Gruffydd, but is eloquent about the spoil, especially the

“Proram cum puppi, pondus grave scilicet auri,

Artificum studio fusile multiplici.”

1407. The Worcester Chronicle (1063) says expressly that the two princes were Gruffydd’s brothers; “And se kyng Eadward betæhte þæt land his twam gebroþran Bleþgente and Rigwatlan.” In the two Welsh Chronicles no notice is taken of this investiture of Gruffydd’s successors, but in 1068 we find Bleddyn and Rhiwallon reigning; they are however called sons of Cynfyn, and are described as waging war with the sons of Gruffydd. Of Bleddyn we have heard before in the invasion of Herefordshire. See above, p. 388.

1408. See Appendix DD. The Peterborough Chronicle leaves out all mention of Eadward; “And he [Harold] sette oþerne cyng þærto.”

1409. Chron. Wig. “And hig [Bleddyn and Rhiwallon] aþas sworon and gislas saldan þæm Cynge and þæm Eorle, þæt heo him on allum þingum unswicende beon woldon, and eighwar him gearwe, on wætere and on lande, and swylc of þam lande gelæstan swylc man dyde toforan ær oþrum kynge.”

1410. Joan. Sarisb. iv. 18. “Legem statuit ut quicumque Britonum exinde citra terminum, quem eis præscripsit, fossam scilicet Offæ, cum telo inveniretur, ei ab officialibus regni manus dextra præcideretur.”

1411. Ib. “Adeoque virtute Ducis tunc Britones confecti sunt ut fere gens tota deficere videretur, et ex indulgentiâ jam dicti Regis mulieres eorum nupserunt Anglis.”

1412. I shall speak more largely of her in my third volume.

1413. Brut y Tywysogion, 1039. “Gruffydd overcame Howel and captured his wife, and took her to be his own wife.”

1414. It is certainly hard measure when Sir Francis Palgrave (Hist. Ang. Sax. p. 372) speaks of Harold’s wife as “her whose husband he had murdered.” Did Alexander murder Darius?

1415. See vol. i. p. 411.

1416. Excepting Dr. R. Vaughan (Revolutions in English History, i. 300), who, from some undescribed sources not open to other writers, has found out that “the marriage could hardly have been a happy one. Ea[l]dgyth was a woman of great ambition, and unscrupulous in her use of means to gratify her passions.”

1417. Chron. Ab. 1065. “Harold Eorl ... þone Kingc Eadward þar to habbene for huntnoþes þingon.” So Flor. Wig. “Ut Dominus suus Rex Eadwardus illic aliquamdiu venationis caussâ degere possit.”

1418. See above, p. 387. Florence expressly distinguishes him as “filius Regis Suth-Walanorum Griffini, quem ante paucos annos Griffinus Rex North-Walanorum occiderat, ejusque regnum invaserat.”

1419. R. Wend. i. 507. “Craddoc, Griffini filius, quem anno præterito exsulaverat Haroldus.” This may however be some confusion with the outlawry of Gruffydd ap Llywelyn.

1420. Chronn. Ab. and Wig. 1065. “Þa for Cradoc Griffines sunu to, mid eallum þam þe he begytan mihte, and þæt folc mæst eall ofsloh þe þar timbrode, and þæt gód genam þe þar gegaderod wæs.”

1421. Chron. Wig. “Ne wiston we hwa þone unræd ærest gerædde.”

1422. Vita Eadw. 421. “Interea quorumdam nobilium factione quos ob nequitias suas gravi presserat dominatûs sui jugo, conjurant in invicem in ejus præjudicio.”

1423. Chron. Ab. 1065. “Forþam þa he rypte God ærost.”

1424. Ib. “And ealle þa bestrypte þe he ofer mihte, æt life and æt lande.”

1425. Ib. “Ealle þa mid hym þe unlage rærdon.” On the untranslatable phrase of unlaw, see above, p. 336.

1426. Fl. Wig. 1065. “Pro immensitate tributi quod de totâ Northhymbriâ injustè acceperat.”

1427. Flor. Wig. 1065. “Pro exsecrandâ nece ... Gamelis filii Orm ac Ulfi filii Dolfini quos anno præcedenti Eboraci in camerâ suâ, sub pacis fœdere, per insidias, Comes Tostius occidere præcepit.” Dolfin and Orm both appear in Domesday, seemingly as holders under William of small parts of great estates held under Eadward. See 278 b, 330 b, 331 b. Orm married Æthelthryth, a daughter of Earl Ealdred (Sim. Dun. X Scriptt. 82) and sister-in-law of Earl Siward (see vol. i. p. 587), but Gamel was not her son.

1428. See vol. i. p. 588.

1429. See vol. i. p. 416.

1430. Fl. Wig. “Pro exsecrandâ nece ... Gospatrici, quem Regina Edgitha, germani sui Tostii caussâ, in curiâ Regis, quartâ nocte Dominicæ nativitatis, per insidias occidi jussit.” The deed here attributed to Eadgyth reminds one of the old crimes of Eadric at Oxford and Shrewsbury. See vol. i. pp. 356, 411.

1431. See above, p. 457.

1432. Chron. Wig. 1065. “And sona æfter þisan gegaderedon þa þegenas hi ealle on Eoforwicscire and on Norðhymbralande togædere.” Here we have perhaps the earliest use of the name Yorkshire, and of the name Northumberland in its modern sense. See vol. i. p. 585. The Abingdon Chronicle has only “on Eoforwicscire,” and Peterborough says “foron Norðhymbra togædere.”

1433. I have, as usual, made a comparison of the narratives in an Appendix (Note HH), referring here only to details.

1434. Flor. Wig. 1065. “Cum cc. militibus.”

1435. The names come from Florence. All three appear in Domesday as great landowners, Gamel especially, in King Eadward’s time. In 1086 Gamel still holds in capite a small part of his vast estates in Yorkshire (331), while his small Staffordshire holding seems to be increased (250 b). Dunstan has sunk to be a tenant of Ilbert of Lacy (317 b), while Glonieorn, called in Domesday Glunier (298 et al.), has, either by death or by confiscation, vanished altogether.

1436. See Appendix HH.

1437. The regulations made for the King’s reception at Shrewsbury (Domesday, 252) show that his presence there was not unlikely, and there was at least one Gemót held there in the time of Æthelred. See vol. i. p. 356. One of the legends of Harold and Tostig (see Appendix Z) implies the King’s probable presence at Hereford; but we do not distinctly hear of him further north than Gloucester.

1438. See above, p. 377.

1439. Sim. Dun. Hist. Eccl. Dun. iii. 14 (X Scriptt. 37). “Quidam vocabulo Copsi, qui sub Tosti totius comitatûs curam gerebat.” Gest. Regg. Angl. a. 1072 (X Scriptt. 204). “Rex Willelmus comitatum Osulfi commisit Copsio, qui erat partis Tostii Comitis viro consiliario et prudenti.” In Domesday also (298 b et al.) he figures as Copsi, but his estates do not seem to have been very large. His gifts to the Church of Durham are mentioned by Simeon (X Scriptt. 37). The Norman writers, as William of Poitiers (148 ed. Giles), turn his name into Coxo, out of which Thierry, by way of being specially Teutonic, has made Kox. (Cf. “Alwinus Coc Bedellus” in Domesday 190, a prudent man who held at the Survey what he had held T. R. E.) They also call him “Comes,” though Simeon (X Scriptt. 37) seems, even under William, to give him no higher title than “Procurator” = Gerefa?

1440. Chronn. Wig. Petrib. 1065. The Abingdon Chronicler omits this decree, which marks the gathering as intended to assume the character of a lawful Gemót.

1441. Chronn. Wig. Petrib. “And sendon æfter Morkere Ælfgares sunu Eorles, and gecuron hine heom to Eorle.” To the same effect afterwards Chron. Ab. “Hig namon heom þa Morkere to Eorle.” Vita Eadw. 421. “Utque efferæ temeritatis haberent auctoritatem, caput sibi et dominum faciunt Ducis Alfgari filium juniorem, ejusque fratrem natu majorem, ad hanc societatem dementiæ suæ invitant.”

1442. See above, p. 378.

1443. See above, p. 434.

1444. See above, p. 482.

1445. Sim. Dun. Gest. Regg. 1072 (X Scriptt. 204). “Morkarus vero, quoniam aliàs gravibus negotiis impeditus fuerat, comitatum ultra Tynam tradidit Osulfo adolescenti, filio præfati Comitis Eadulfi.” We shall hear of him again.

1446. The names come from Florence, who (see Appendix HH) describes them as “illius [Tostii] Danicos huscarlas, Amundum et Reavensvartum.” “Danicus” is an ambiguous word, and does not show whether they were simply adventurers from Denmark or sons of followers of Cnut. The name would hardly be applied to descendants of the elder Danish settlers. At any rate, one of these men was a considerable landowner, and both, from their special mention, must have been men of some importance, probably officers in command of the force. Reavenswart is doubtless the man who, under several spellings, occurs as a landowner T. R. E. in Yorkshire, Shropshire, and Cheshire (Domesday, 257, 266, 268 b, 301 b). The Amund of Suffolk, 433, 433 b, and 441 b, is a different person, but may not “Anand huscarl R. E.” in Hertfordshire, 140 b, be a corrupt form of our Amund?

1447. See Appendix HH.

1448. Chronn. Wig. Petrib. 1065. “And naman ealle his wæpna on Eoforwic and gold and seolfer and ealle his sceattas, þe hig mihton ahwær þær geacsian.” Fl. Wig. “Ærarium quoque ipsius fregerunt, et omnibus quæ illius fuerant ablatis, recesserunt.” Will. Malms. (ii. 200). “Homines ejus, et Anglos et Danos, obtruncârunt, equos et arma, et supellectilem omnem corradentes.”

1449. See Appendix HH.

1450. See vol. i. pp. 51, 64, 411.

1451. Chronn. Wig. Petrib. “And eac fela Bryttas comon mid him.”

1452. See above, p. 479.

1453. Chron. Wig. “And þa Ryðrenan dydan mycelne hearm abutan Hamtune, ... ægþær þæt hi ofslogon menn, and bærndon hús and corn, and namon eall þæt orf þe hig mihton to cuman, þæt wæs feola þusend, and fela hund manna hi naman, and læddan norð mid heom.” I do not know that the word “Ryðrenan” occurs elsewhere; but the hope that it might mean Welshmen is dispelled by the word “norð,” and still more clearly by the words of the Peterborough Chronicler, who, for “þa Ryðrenan” reads “þa norðerne menn.” The evil doers were clearly the original Northumbrian revolters.

1454. Chronn. Wig. Petrib. 1065. “Swa þæt seo scir and þa oðra scira þæ ðær neah sindon wurdan fela wintra ðe wyrsan.”

1455. On the negotiations, see Appendix HH.

1456. See above, p. 136.

1457. Will. Malms. ii. 200. “Se nullius Ducis ferociam pati posse.” See Appendix HH.

1458. Ib. “Proinde, si subditos velit, Markerium filium Elgari eis præficiat, re experturum quam dulciter sciant obedire, si dulciter tractati fuerint.”

1459. Chronn. Wig. Petrib. “And eac ærendracan mid him sendon.”

1460. Vita Eadw. 422. “Accitis undique regni primatibus, habebat ibi consilium quid super tali negotio esset opus.”

1461. Vita Eadw. 422. “Culpabant nonnulli eumdem gloriosum Ducem nimiæ feritatis, et magis amore justitiæ inquietos punisse arguebatur cupiditati invadendæ eorum facultatis.” I suppose I have caught the meaning of this stiff bit of Latin.

1462. Ib. “Dicebatur quoque [mark the difference of the formula], si dignum esset credere, fratris sui Haroldi invidioso, quod absit, suasu, hanc dementiam contra Ducem suum aggressos esse.” The Biographer expresses his own disbelief; “Sed ego huic detestabili nequitiæ a tanto principe in fratrem suum non audeo nec vellem fidem adhibere.” The Biographer, the special apologist of Tostig, is here driven to his last shift.

1463. Chron. Ab. and Florence. See Appendix HH.

1464. See Appendix Z.

1465. Vita Eadw. 422. “Ipse tamen Dux Tostinus, coram Rege ejusque frequentibus palatinis publicè testatus, hoc illi imposuit, sed ille citiùs ad sacramenta nimis (proh dolor) prodigus [on this most remarkable allusion, see above, p. 43], hoc objectum sacramentis purgavit.”

1466. Ib. 423. “Multotiens ergo à Rege per legatos consulti quum non adquiescerent sed potiùs inceptâ dementiâ ampliùs furerent, ferro disponit eorum contumacem proterviam compescere, commotis regali edicto universis totius reliquiis Angliæ.”

1467. Ib. “Sed quia ex asperiori hieme jam tunc aëris incumbebat inæqualitas, tum non facile erat ad contrariam expeditionem sufficientes educere exercituum copias, et quia in eâdem gente horrebat quasi bellum civile, instabant quidam ferventem Regis animum sedare, et ne expeditio procederet, suadere.”

1468. See vol. i. pp. 578, 579.

1469. This seems implied in the words of the Biographer (423); “Obluctatique diutiùs Regem proficisci volentem non tam avertunt, quam eo invito perperàm deficiunt.”

1470. Vita Eadw. 423. “Contestatusque Deum cum gravi mœrore ipsi conquestus est quod suorum debito destitueretur obauditu ad comprimendam iniquorum superbiam. Denique super eos imprecatus est vindictam.”

1471. See above, pp. 23, 137.

1472. Chronn. Wig. and Petrib. “And se cyng þæs geuðe, and sende eft Harold heom to Hamtune” [it should be Oxford, see Appendix HH]. William of Malmesbury (iii. 252) does not ill describe the state of things; “Fiebant ista, ut a consciis accepimus, infenso Rege, quia Tostinum diligeret; sed morbo invalidus, senio gravis, penè jam despectui omnibus habere cœperat ut dilecto auxiliari non posset.” When William wrote, Eadward, however much reverenced, was not yet formally canonized.

1473. Will. Malms. ii. 200. “Haroldus ... qui magis quietem patriæ quam fratris commodum attenderet.”

1474. That the ravages took place during this interval, appears from the words of the Peterborough and Worcester Chronicles, that it was “þa hwile þe he [Harold] for heora ærende.”

1475. Both this and the Northampton Assembly are called “Mycel Gemót.” See Appendix HH.

1476. This is, I think, implied in the words of the Abingdon writer and of Florence (see Appendix HH). Harold tries to reconcile them “ibi”—at Northampton—“et post apud Oxnefordam.”

1477. See above, p. 375, and Appendix G.

1478. See vol. i. p. 462.

1479. Chron. Wig. and Petrib. “And he [Harold] niwade þær Cnutes lage.”

1480. Fl. Wig. “Cum adjutorio Comitis Eadwini de Angliâ Tostium expulerunt.”

1481. Vita Eadw. 423. “At Deo dilectus Rex, quum Ducem suum tutare non posset, gratiâ suâ multipliciter donatum, mœrens nimium quod in hanc impotentiam deciderit, à se dimisit.” The Chronicles, by simply saying “fór ofer sæ,” or something to that effect, distinctly favour the Biographer’s account.

1482. The Chronicles mention the departure of Tostig and his wife; the Biographer says, “cum conjuge et lactentibus liberis.” Yet they had been married fourteen years.

1483. With him went, say the Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles, “ealle þa þe woldon þæt he wolde.” So the Biographer (u. s.), “plurimâque nobilium suorum manu.”

1484. Fl. Wig.

1485. See above, pp. 404, 465.

1486. Chronn. Ab. Wig. Petrib. and Flor. Wig. The Abingdon Chronicle and Florence alone mention Saint Omer.

1487. Since this section was written, Dean Stanley has published his Memorials of Westminster Abbey, in the early part of which he goes over nearly the same ground. But I find a good deal of difference between my ideas of historical evidence and those of the Dean.

1488. Flor. Wig. “Post hæc Rex Eadwardus paullatim ægrotare cœpit.” Vita Eadw. 423. “Quo dolore decidens in morbum, ab eâ die usque in diem mortis suæ ægrum trahebat animum.” Will. Malms. iii. 252. “Quare ex animi ægritudine majorem valetudinem corporis contrahens, non multo post decessit.” The hagiographers do not feel called on to enlarge on the real cause of the death of their hero—baffled wrath against his own people.

1489. Vita Eadw. 417. “Ob amorem principalis Apostoli, quem affectu colebat unico et speciali.”

1490. The Biographer assigns no motive for the foundation of Westminster beyond this special reverence for Saint Peter, and the other usual motives for the foundation of monasteries. But his statement does not exclude the account given by the legendary writers about the vow, the dispensation, and the embassies to Rome. This I accept in the main, of course without binding myself to any legendary details, because it fits in so exactly with the statements of the Chroniclers and other authentic writers, who mention the two embassies without describing their object.

1491. See above, p. 115.

1492. See above, p. 442.

1493. See above, pp 447, 467.

1494. It is somewhat dangerous to use the two doubtful charters which will be found in Cod. Dipl. iv. 173, 181. If I could fully trust them, I should find it easy to add many details. But I venture to refer to them only when their statements seem either to have great probability in themselves or to be confirmed by some other evidence. The two embassies to Rome seem to imply that, in 1050, nothing had been begun, but that in 1061 the foundation was complete. The words of the second charter (p. 181) imply this. Eadward says “Quum ergo renovâssem eam,” &c. of the time when he sent the second embassy, four years before the completion and dedication of the church.

1495. Cod. Dipl. iv. 175. “Revelavit beatus Petrus cuidam probabilis vitæ monacho incluso nomine Wlfsino voluntatem suam esse ut restruerem locum, qui dicitur Westmonasterium.” On Wulfsige, see above, p. 466.

1496. Wace (10653) enlarges on the name, and his phonetic spelling illustrates his natural difficulty in pronouncing the letter þ.

“En un islet esteit assise,
Zonée out nom, joste Tamise;
Zonée por ço l’apelon,
Ke d’espine i out foison,
E ke l’ewe en alout environ.
Ee en engleiz isle apelon,
Ee est isle, zon est espine,
Seit rainz, seit arbre, seit racine;
Zonée ço est en engleiz
Isle d’espine en françeiz.”

Prevost’s note is worth reading.

1497. So says Æthelred, X Scriptt. 385.

1498. Æthelred, 385, and more briefly in the charter, iv. 181.

1499. Vita Eadw. 417. “Parvo quidem opere et numero, paucioribus ibi congregatis monachis sub Abbate in servitio Christi.”

1500. See vol. i. p. 567.

1501. See above, p. 113.

1502. Vita Eadw. u. s. “Eligit ibi habere sibi locum sepulcri.”

1503. So at least says Pope Nicolas’ letter in Æthelred, 389. Cod. Dipl. iv. 184. “Ut ampliùs imperpetuum regiæ constitutionis et consecrationis locus sit, atque repositorium regalium insignium.” Here, whether the text be genuine or not, the immediate application of the church to the use spoken of proves the truth of the statement.

1504. Vita Eadw. 417. “Intendit Deo devotus Rex locum illum, tam vicinum famosæ et opulentæ urbi, tum satis apricum ex circumjacentibus fecundis terris et viridantibus prædiis.” He goes on to speak of the commerce of London.

1505. See vol. i. p. 280. Eadward was a benefactor to Fécamp (ðán hálgan mynstre æt Feskamp), giving it land at Steyning in Sussex (Cod. Dipl. iv. 229), where there grew up an alien Priory. A magnificent fragment of the church remains, of late twelfth century work.

1506. On the remains of Eadward’s work in Westminster Abbey, see the work by Mr. G. G. Scott and others, Gleanings from Westminster Abbey.

1507. This is asserted in the famous passage of William of Malmesbury (ii. 228), “Ecclesia ... quam ipse illo compositionis genere primus in Angliâ ædificaverat quod nunc penè cuncti sumptuosis æmulantur expensis.” On the architectural question I trust to say something in the last volume of this work.

1508. See the description in the Biographer, and representation in the Bayeux Tapestry, which shows beyond doubt that the building consecrated in 1065 was a perfect church, and not a mere fragment.

1509. So says the French Life (2295), which, on such a subject, may be trusted;

“En miliu dresce une tur,
E deus en frunt del Occident
E bons seinz e granz i pent.”

But, as the Tapestry does not show these towers, they were probably carried up at a later time, as often happened.

1510. Vita Eadw. 417. “Præcepit deinde ex decimis omnium redituum suorum initiari opus nobilis ædificii.” So Cod. Dipl. iv. 176. “Decimari præcepi omnem substantiam meam, tam in auro et argento, quàm in pecudibus et omni genere possessionum.”

1511. Cod. Dipl. iv. 179. So the writs in iv. 190, 228. I presume that he succeeded Wulfnoth in 1049.

1512. The Charter in Cod. Dipl. 176 says, “Destruens veterem, novam à fundamentis basilicam construxi.” The Biographer explains the gradual process (418); “Hæc autem multiplicitas tam vasti operis tanto spatio ab oriente ordita est veteris templi, ne scilicet interim inibi commorantes fratres vacarent a servitio Christi, ut etiam aliqua pars spatiosè subiret interjaciendi vestibuli.” The Biographer, always hard to understand, is specially so in his architectural description.

1513. The charter in Cod. Dipl. iv. 177 mentions Leofcild, Æthelric, Wulfwig, Guthmund, Ælfric, Atsere (or Azor) the Black (Swerte), Ingulf, Atsere, Tostig, Ælfwine, Wulfstan, Siward, and Leofsige of London. The gifts of several of them are mentioned in various writs: Leofcild in iv. 214; Ælfwine, iv. 217; Atsere Swerte, iv. 220; the other Atsere, iv. 191 (which of these was the Azor of Gloucestershire and Somersetshire?); and Leofsige, “Dudde sunu,” iv. 218. There is also Ulf the Portreeve in iv. 221. The writs about the King’s own gifts are very numerous.

1514. See the Life, pp. 428 et seqq., and Appendix B.

1515. Æthelred, 389. Was this holy man the inclusus Wulfsige?

1516. Æthelred, 396. “Ipso ad regnum cœleste translato, cuncta terrarum regna commota sunt. Syria paganis subjecta, destructa monasteria, dirutæ à fundamentis ecclesiæ, plena funeribus omnia, morte principum Græcorum, Romanorum, Francorum, Anglorum, et regna cætera perturbata.” As regards the “Princeps Romanorum,” the hagiographer is wide of his mark, for Henry the Fourth survived the Confessor forty years.

1517. See the story in the De Inventione, p. 22. Æthelred, 397. The Waltham writer lets us incidentally into the fact that London, York, Winchester, and Lincoln were then counted the four chief cities of England. In the great dispute over the quarters of Dafydd in 1283 (Ann. Waverley, 400 ed. Luard), the order was ruled to be London, Winchester, York, Bristol (others say Chester), with Northampton as the fifth.

1518. Æthelred, writing in Yorkshire, mentions vaguely a church of Saint John; the East-Saxon writer fixes it at Clavering. See Professor Stubbs’ note, p. 24.

1519. “Postea” says Æthelred, but “eodem die,” according to Roger of Howden, Scriptt. p. Bed. 256.

1520. Vita Eadw. 418. “Ejus æquivoca sancta Ædgith, de cujus progenie idem Rex Ædwardus descenderat.” The Biographer could hardly have thought that Eadward was a lineal descendant of this virgin saint, his own aunt. But in his rhetoric “progenies,” or any other word, may mean anything.

On the power of Saint Eadgyth to rebuke blasphemers, see vol. i. p. 484.

1521. Vita Eadw. u. s. “Lignea tamen adhuc illic ecclesia stabat.”

1522. Ib. “Regio opere lapideum monasterium inchoat, ferventiùsque instans operarios maturat. Contendunt hinc Rex, illinc Reginâ, contentione Deo gratâ, in invicem quoque non injocundâ.”

1523. Ib. 421. “Actâ ergo hujus ecclesiæ consecratione ... anno Domini millesimo sexagesimo quinto ad justitium totius patriæ, hæc regni subsequuta est perturbatio.”

1524. Fl. Wig. 1065. “In nativitate Domini curiam suam, ut potuit, Lundoniæ tenuit.” Æthel. 398. “Appropinquabat dies ... in quo Anglorum tota nobilitas ad Regis curiam debuit convenire, et Regi more suo sceptris simul et coronâ decorando adsistere.” So directly after (399), “Convenientibus in unum episcopis cunctisque regni proceribus, sacra dedicationis sollennitas inchoatur.”

1525. Æthel. 398, 399. Will. Malms. ii. 228. “In Natale Domini apud Lundoniam coronatus est.”

1526. The consecration “on Cyldamæsse dæg” is asserted by all three Chronicles, by Florence, and by William of Malmesbury. “Lét halgian” is the phrase of Abingdon and Worcester; so Florence, “cum magnâ gloriâ dedicari fecit,” and William of Malmesbury, “dedicari præcepit.” The action of Eadgyth comes from Æthelred, 399; “Rex, quantùm valetudo permittebat, favebat officio, sed Regina, omnia disponens, omnia procurans, sollicita de omnibus, intenta omnibus, utriusque vicem implevit.”

1527. I reserve the details of Eadward’s death for my next Chapter. It is so essentially connected with the accession of Harold that the two events can hardly be separated in narration, and the different accounts of the death-bed scene at once lead us to the discussion of the question as to Eadward’s dying recommendation with regard to his successor.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

- Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.

- Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last chapter.

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Table of Contents

- THE HISTORY OF THE NORMAN CONQUEST OF ENGLAND, ITS CAUSES AND ITS RESULTS.

- PREFACE.

- CONTENTS.

- ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS.

- CHAPTER VII. FROM THE ELECTION OF EADWARD TO THE BANISHMENT OF GODWINE.[1] 1042–1051.

- § 1. The Election and Coronation of Eadward. 1042–1043.

- § 2. Condition of England during the early years of Eadward.

- § 3. From the Coronation of Eadward to the Remission of the War-Tax. 1043–1051.

- § 4. The Banishment of Earl Godwine. 1051.

- CHAPTER VIII. THE EARLY YEARS OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.[497] A.D. 1028–1051.

- § 1. Birth, Character, and Accession of William. A.D. 1028–1035.

- § 2. From the Accession of William to the Battle of Val-ès-dunes. 1035–1047.

- § 3. From the Battle of Val-ès-dunes to William’s Visit to England. 1047–1051.

- CHAPTER IX. THE REIGN OF EADWARD FROM THE RETURN OF GODWINE TO THE DEATH OF EADWARD THE ÆTHELING.[921] 1052–1057.

- § 1. The Return and Death of Godwine. 1052–1053.

- § 2. From the Accession of Harold to the Earldom of the West-Saxons to his first War with Gruffydd. 1053–1056.

- § 3. From Harold’s first Campaign against Gruffydd to the Deaths of Leofric and Ralph. 1055–1057.

- CHAPTER X. THE REIGN OF EADWARD FROM THE DEATH OF THE ÆTHELING TO THE DEATH OF THE KING.[1258] 1057–1066.

- § 1. The Ecclesiastical Administration of Earl Harold. 1058–1062.

- § 2. The Welsh War and its Consequences. 1062–1065.

- § 3. The Revolt of Northumberland. 1065.

- §4. The Last Days of Eadward. 1065–1066.[1487]

- APPENDIX.

- NOTE A. p. 5. The Election and Coronation of Eadward.

- NOTE B. p. 21. The Legendary History of Eadward.

- NOTE C. p. 29. Eadward’s Fondness for Foreign Churchmen.

- NOTE D. p. 31. English and Norman Estimates of Godwine and Harold.

- NOTE E. p. 32. The Alleged Spoliations of the Church by Godwine and Harold.

- NOTE F. p. 36. The Children of Godwine.

- NOTE G. p. 36. The Great Earldoms during the Reign of Eadward.

- NOTE H. p. 62. The Legend of Emma.

- NOTE I. p. 110. The Welsh Campaign of 1049.

- NOTE K. p. 124. Danegeld and Heregeld.

- NOTE L. p. 131. The Banishment of Godwine.

- NOTE M. p. 174. The Surnames of William.

- NOTE N. p. 177. The Birth of William.

- NOTE O. p. 254. The Battle of Val-ès-dunes.

- NOTE P. p. 274. The Counts of Anjou and of Chartres.

- NOTE Q. p. 276. The Imprisonment of William of Aquitaine.

- NOTE R. p. 319. The Ravages attributed to Harold and Godwine.

- NOTE S. p. 319. The Narratives of the Return of Godwine.

- NOTE T. p. 338. The Pilgrimage of Swegen.

- NOTE U. p. 342. The Ecclesiastical Position of Stigand.

- NOTE W. p. 351. The Death of Earl Godwine.

- NOTE X. p. 362. The War with Macbeth.

- NOTE Y. p. 370. The Mission of Ealdred and the Return of the Ætheling Eadward.

- NOTE Z. p. 379. The Supposed Enmity between Harold and Tostig.

- NOTE AA. p. 391. Æthelstan, Bishop of Hereford.

- NOTE BB. p. 416. The Family of Leofric.

- NOTE CC. p. 417. Harold the Son of Ralph.

- NOTE DD. p. 424. The Quasi-Royal Position of Earl Harold.

- NOTE EE. p. 430. Harold’s Foreign Travels and Pilgrimage.

- NOTE FF. p. 449. The Quarrel between Earl Harold and Bishop Gisa.

- NOTE GG. p. 467. Ælfwig Abbot of New Minster.

- NOTE HH. p. 482. The Revolt of Northumberland.

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