Appendix (part 1)

NOTE A. Vol. i. p. 11.

The Accession of William Rufus.

The remarkable thing about the accession of William Rufus is that it is the one case in those days in which a king succeeds without any trace of regular election, whether by the nation at large or by any smaller body. The ecclesiastical election which formed part of the rite of coronation was doubtless not forgotten; but there is no sign of any earlier election by the Witan, or by any gathering which could call itself by their name. Lanfranc appears as the sole actor. One account, the Life of Lanfranc attached to the Winchester Chronicle, speaks of the archbishop in so many words as the one elector; “Mortuo rege Willielmo trans mare, filium ejus Willielmum, sicut pater constituit, Lanfrancus regem elegit, et in ecclesia beati Petri, in occidentali parte Lundoniæ sita, sacravit et coronavit.” The words of Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 13) are almost equally strong;

“Defuncto itaque rege Willielmo, successit ei in regnum, Willielmus filius ejus, qui cum regni fastigia fratri suo Roberto præripere gestiret, et Lanfrancum, sine cujus accensu in regnum ascisci nullatenus poterat, sibi in hoc ad expletionem desiderii sui non omnino consentaneum inveniret, verens ne dilatio suæ consecrationis inferret ei dispendium cupiti honoris,” &c.

William of Malmesbury too (iv. 305) goes so far as to say;

“A patre, ultima valetudine decumbente, in successorem adoptatus, antequam ille extremum efflasset, ad occupandum regnum contendit, moxque volentibus animis provincialium exceptus, et claves thesaurorum nactus est, quibus fretus totam Angliam animo subjecit suo. Accessit etiam favori ejus, maximum rerum momentum, archiepiscopus Lanfrancus, eo quod eum nutrierat et militem fecerat, quo auctore et annitente,… coronatus,” &c.

Neither of these writers follows any strict order of time. The willing assent of the people may mean either their passive assent at his coming, or their more formal assent on the coronation-day. The general good-will shown towards the new king is set forth also by Robert of Torigny (Cont. Will. Gem. viii. 2; “susceptus est ab Anglis et Francis”), by the author of the Brevis Relatio (11) in the same words, and by the Battle writer (39); “omnium favore, ut decebat, magnifice exceptus.”

If then we accept Eadmer’s words in their fulness, the only objection made at the time to Rufus’ accession came from his special elector, Lanfranc himself. This incidental notice, implying that Lanfranc did hesitate, is very remarkable. We are not told the ground of his objections. But of whatever kind they were, they were overcome by the new King’s special oath, in which the formal words of the coronation bond seem to be mixed up with oaths and promises of a more general kind;

“Cœpit, tam per se tam per omnes suos quos poterat, fide sacramentoque Lanfranco promittere justitiam, æquitatem, et misericordiam, se per totum regnum, si rex foret, in omni negotio servaturum; pacem, libertatem, securitatem, ecclesiarum contra omnes defensurum, necne præceptis atque consiliis ejus per omnia et in omnibus obtemperaturum.”

We may compare the special promise of Æthelred on his restoration (N. C. vol. i. p. 368) to follow the advice of his Witan in all things.

The first signs of any thought of usurpation or the like in the accession of Rufus may be dimly seen in the Hyde writer (298); where however stronger phrases are, oddly enough, applied to Robert;

“Defuncto rege Willelmo et sepulturæ tradito, Willelmus filius ejus in Angliam transvectus regnum occupat, regemque se vocari omnibus imperat; Robertus quoque frater ejus regressus a Gallia, Normanniam invadit, et nullo resistente ditioni suæ supponit.”

By the time of William of Newburgh men had found out the hereditary right of the eldest son. He says, first (i. 2), that Robert succeeded in Normandy, William in England, “ordine quidem præpostero, sed per ultimam patris, ut dictum est, voluntatem commutato.” Directly after, the rebels of next year favour Robert, “tanquam justo hæredi et perperam exhæredato” (cf. Suger, Duchèsne, iv. 283, “Exhæredato majore natu Roberto fratre suo”). And presently, we hear of “frater senior Robertus, cui nimirum ordine naturali regni successio competebat.” All this is odd, when we remember how well in the next chapter (see vol. i. p. 11) the same author understands the position of Henry, as the only true Ætheling, son of a king. Oddly enough, Thomas Wykes (Ann. Mon. iv. 11) gives this last position to Rufus, “quem primum genuit [Willelmus le Bastard, rex Angliæ] postquam regnum adquisivit.”

Matthew Paris (Hist. Angl. i. 34, 35), as usual, gives the story a colouring of his own, which may be compared with his version of the accession of Henry the First (see N. C. vol. v. p. 845). He has told us that the Conqueror, in bequeathing his kingdom to his second son, gave him special advice as to its rule;

“Willelmo Rufo filio suo Angliam, scilicet conquestum suum, assignavit; supplicans ut Anglos, quos crudeliter et veluti ingratus male tractaverat, mitius confoveret.”

He crosses to England, “utilius reputans regnum sibi firmare vivorum quam mortui cujuscumque exsequiis interesse.” Then we read;

“Willelmus, cognomento Rufus, filius regis Willelmi primi, veniens in Angliam, consilio et auxilio Lamfranci Cantuariensis archiepiscopi, qui ipsum a primis annis nutriverat et militem fecerat, sine moroso dispendio Angliam sibi conciliatam inclinavit, nec tamen totam. Sed ut negotium regis optatum cito sortiretur effectum, ipsum die sanctorum Cosmæ et Damiani, etsi cum sollemnitate mutilata, coronavit, veraciter promittentem ut Angliam cum modestia gubernaret, leges sancti regis Edwardi servaturus, et Anglos præcipue tractaret reverenter.”

These remarkable words must be taken in connexion with what immediately follows, which is in truth a very rose-coloured version of the rebellion of 1088, which is made immediately to follow, or rather to accompany, the coronation. For the next words are;

“Verumtamen quamplures Anglorum nobiles, formidantes et augurantes ipsum velle patrissare, noluerunt ei obsecundare, sed elegerunt potius Roberto, militi strenuissimo, militare, et tamquam primogenito ipsi in regem creato famulari, quam fallacibus promissis Rufi fidem adhibere. Sed Lamfrancus hæc sedavit, bona promittens.”

Still the new King sees that many of the nobles of the kingdom are plotting against him. By the advice of Lanfranc therefore he gathers a secret assembly of English nobles (“Anglorum nobiliores et fortiores invitando secretius convocavit”); he promises with an oath on the Gospels to give them good laws and all the old free customs (“pristinae libertatis consuetudines”). He then wins over Roger of Montgomery, according to the account in vol. i. p. 61. Then, again by Lanfranc’s advice, he divides and weakens the English by his promises (“omnes Anglos, quos insuperabiles, si fuissent inseparabiles, cognoverat, talibus sermocinationibus et promissis dissipatos et enervatos sibi conciliavit”). A few only resist; against those he wages a successful war at the head of the nation generally (“eorum conamina, universitatis adjutus viribus, quantocius annullavit”), and confiscates their goods.

It is clear that Matthew Paris had the elder writers before him, but that he did not fully understand their language with regard to the appeal of Rufus to the English. We must remember the time when he wrote. In his day the immediate consequences of the Conquest had passed away; the distinction of “Angli” and “Franci,” so living in the days of Rufus, was forgotten. But men had not yet begun to speculate about “Normans and Saxons,” as Robert of Gloucester did somewhat later. Moreover Matthew was used to a state of things in which a king who, if not foreign by birth, was foreign in feeling, had to be withstood by an united English nation, indifferent as to the remoter pedigree of each man. He therefore told the story of the reign of Rufus as if it had been the story of the reign of Henry the Third. All are “Angli;” the distinction drawn by the Chronicler between the “French” who rebelled against the King and the “English” to whom he appealed, is lost. The English people whom he called to his help against the Norman nobles become English nobles whom he cunningly wins over in secret. Matthew understands that England was a conquered country with a foreign king; he does not understand the relations of foreigners and natives in the island, and that the foreign king appealed to the natives against his own countrymen. The passage is most valuable, not as telling us anything about the reign of William Rufus, but as showing us how the reign of William Rufus looked when read by the present experience of the reign of Henry the Third.

At the same time Matthew Paris must have had something special in his eye, when he spoke of the coronation rites of William Rufus as being in some way imperfect. Was there any tradition that, as John did not communicate at his coronation, so neither did William? Men may have argued from one tyrant to another.

On the whole we may say that William Rufus, like Servius Tullius (Cic. de Rep. ii. 21), “regnare coepit, non jussu, sed voluntate atque concessu civium.”

Besides these accounts, given by contemporary or nearly contemporary writers, or founded on their statements, there is another version of William’s accession, which I take to be wholly mythical. This is preserved in the local history of Colchester abbey (Monasticon, iv. 607). In this the accession of Rufus is said to have been almost wholly brought about by Eudo the dapifer, the son of Hubert of Rye. It seems to be a continuation of another legend (see N. C. vol. iii. p. 683), in which Hubert is made the chief actor in the bequest of the crown which Eadward is said to have made in favour of the elder William. It is in short a family legend, devised in honour of the house of Rye. The same part is played in two successive generations; the father secures the crown for the elder William, the son for the younger. First of all, we are told of the way in which Eudo gained his office of dapifer, an office which the witness of Domesday shows that he really held. The story is almost too silly to tell; but it runs thus. William Fitz-Osbern, before he set out to seek for crowns in Flanders, held the post of “major domus regiæ.” In that character he was setting a dish of crane’s flesh before William, and, as it was ill-cooked (“carnem gruis semicrudæ adeo ut sanguis exprimeretur”), the King aimed a blow at him. Eudo, as though he had been Lilla saving Eadwine from the poisoned dagger of Eomer, thrust himself forward and received the blow which was meant for the Earl of Hereford. William Fitz-Osbern accordingly resigns his office, asking that Eudo may succeed him in it. We hear no more till William’s death, when Eudo appears as exhorting William Rufus to hasten and take possession of the English crown (“Eudo, arrepta occasione ex paterna concessione, Willelmum juniorem aggreditur, et ut negotio insistat hortatur”). They cross over together, and are made to land at Worcester—Portchester must be meant, through some confusion of p and ƿ. Thence they go to Winchester, and get the keys of the treasure-house by favour of its keeper, William of Pont de l’Arche, a person whom I cannot find in Domesday (“In Angliam transvecti, appliciti Worcestriæ comparato sibi favore Willielmi de Ponte-arce, claves thesauri Wintoniæ suscipiunt quarum idem Willielmus custos erat”). Not only the coming of the younger William, but the death of the elder, is carefully kept secret, while Eudo goes to Dover, Pevensey, Hastings, and the other fortresses on the coast. Pretending orders from the King, he binds their garrisons by oaths to give up the keys to no one except by his orders (“fide et sacramento custodes obligat nemini nisi suo arbitrio claves munitionis tradituros … prætendens regem in Normannia moras facturum, et velle de omnibus munitionibus Angliæ securitatem habere, per se scilicet qui senescallus erat”). He then comes back to Winchester; the death of the King is announced, and, while the peers of the realm are in Normandy debating about the succession to the crown, William Rufus is, through the diligence of Eudo, elected and crowned (“acceleratoque negotio, Wintoniam redit; et tunc demum regem obiisse propalat. Ita dum cæteri proceres de regni successione tractant in Normannia, interim studio et opera Eudonis, Willielmus junior in regem eligitur, consecratur, confirmatur, in Anglia”). The story goes on to say that the people of Colchester petitioned the new King that they might be put under the care of Eudo. To this William gladly agreed, and Eudo ruled the town with great justice and mercy, relieving the inhabitants from their heavy burthens, seemingly by the process of taking to himself a large amount of confiscated land and paying the taxes laid upon the town out of it (“causas cœpit inquirere, sublevare gravatos, comprimere elatos, et in suis primordiis omnibus complacere. Terras damnatorum, exlegatorum, et pro culpis eliminatorum, dum nemo coleret, exigebantur tamen plenaliter fiscalia, et hac de causa populus valde gravabatur. Has ergo terras Eudo sibi vindicavit, ut pro his fisco satisfaceret et populum eatenus alleviaret”).

The share taken by Eudo in the accession of William seems to be pure fiction. His good deeds at Colchester are perfectly possible; but the latter part of the story seems to be a confusion or perversion of an entry in Domesday (ii. 106), which rather reads as if Eudo had become possessor, and that in the time of the elder William, of the common land of the burgesses (“Eudo dapifer v. denarios et xl. acras terræ quas tenebant burgenses tempore R. E. et reddebant omnem consuetudinem burgensium. Modo vero non reddunt consuetudinem nisi de suis capitibus”). This looks as if the burgesses had hitherto paid the royal dues out of their corporate estate, but that, when that estate passed to Eudo, a poll-tax had to be levied to defray them.

NOTE B. Vol. i. p. 24.

The beginning of the Rebellion of 1088.

Of the great revolt of the Normans in England against William Rufus we have three accounts in considerable detail, in the Chronicle, in Florence, and in Orderic. The Chronicle and Florence do not follow exactly the same arrangement, but I do not see any contradiction between them. Florence simply arranges his narrative in such a way as to give special prominence to his own city and his own bishop. But Orderic, from whom we get a most vivid, and seemingly quite trustworthy, account of certain parts of the campaign, seems to have misconceived the order of events in the early part of the story, especially with regard to the time of Bishop Odo’s coming to England. According to him, Odo did not come to England till after Christmas. He then comes, along with Eustace of Boulogne and Robert of Bellême, as the agent of a plot already devised in concert with Duke Robert for the death or deposition of his brother. The others join them, and the rebellion begins.

In the other version, that of the Chronicle and Florence, illustrated in various points of detail by William of Malmesbury, Henry of Huntingdon, and other writers, Odo comes to England much sooner, in time for the Christmas assembly. He brings no treasonable intentions with him; he takes to plotting only when he finds that his power in England is less than he had hoped that it would be. Eustace and Robert of Bellême do not come to England till a later stage, when the rebellion has fully broken out, and when Odo is holding Rochester against the King. They are then sent by Duke Robert, who is represented (see p. 56) as hearing for the first time of the revolt in his favour after Rochester was seized by Odo.

Orderic begins his story (665 D) with an account of seditious meetings held by the nobles of Normandy and England, and of speeches made at them. It is not said where they were spoken or by whom, but the context would seem to imply that they were spoken by Odo in Normandy. For immediately after the speech follow the words (666 C);

“Hoc itaque consilium Odo præsul Baiocensis et Eustachius comes Boloniensis atque Robertus Belesmensis aliique plures communiter decreverunt, decretumque suum Roberto duci detexerunt.”

Then the consent of Robert is given, as in p. 56, and the three ringleaders cross to England, and begin the revolt;

“Igitur post natale Domini prædicti proceres in Angliam transfretaverunt, et castella sua plurimo apparatu muniverunt, multamque partem patriæ contra regem infra breve tempus commoverunt.”

I have ventured (in p. 25) to work the substance of the speech into the text, as it contains arguments which suit the circumstances of the case, and which are specially suited to speakers in Normandy. But the speech cannot really have been spoken by Odo in Normandy. For it is impossible to resist the evidence which brings Odo over to England before the Christmas Assembly, and which makes his enmity to the King arise out of things which happened after he came to England. We have, first, the direct statement (see p. 19) of Henry of Huntingdon that Odo was present at the Christmas Gemót. And this statement is the more valuable, because it is not brought in as part of the story of Odo; it reads rather as if it came from some official source, perhaps from a list of signatures to some act of the Assembly. But the words of William of Malmesbury (iv. 306) come almost to the same thing;

“Cum ille, solutus a vinculis, Robertum nepotem in comitatu Normanniæ confirmasset, Angliam venit, recepitque a rege comitatum Cantiæ.”

The Midwinter Gemót was the obvious time for such a grant, and Odo’s restoration to his earldom is asserted or implied everywhere. Thus in the Chronicle we read a little later how “Odo … ferde into Cent to his eorldome,” and Florence speaks of him as “Odo episcopus Baiocensis, qui et erat comes Cantwariensis.” Orderic himself (666 C) says, “Odo, ut supra dictum est, palatinus Cantiæ consul erat, et plures sub se comites virosque potentes habebat,” seemingly without seeing that his version hardly gives any opportunity for the restoration of the earldom. Henry of Huntingdon (214 Arnold), almost alone, speaks of him as “princeps et moderator Angliæ,” without reference to his special office of earl. William of Malmesbury goes on (see p. 23) to give the reason for Odo’s discontent, the greater authority of the Bishop of Durham. The Chronicle and Florence (see pp. 23, 24) mention only the great authority enjoyed by Bishop William, and the revolt of Odo, without mentioning Odo’s motive. That is, they simply state the facts, while William of Malmesbury supplies the connecting link. If we accept Orderic’s version that Odo did not come to England till after Christmas, we have hardly time for the events as they are stated in our other authorities. For we have to find time for Odo’s re-establishment in his earldom, for his hopes and for his disappointment, all leading up to the seditious gatherings during Lent. And in some parts of the kingdom, as we shall see in the next Note, these gatherings took the form of an open outbreak somewhat earlier than we should have been led to think from the account in the Chronicle.

Now there can be no doubt as to the truth of the version in which the Chronicle, Florence, and William of Malmesbury substantially agree. All that Orderic has done has been to place the voyage of Odo to England at a wrong time, and it is easy to see how the mistake arose. He makes Odo, Eustace, and Robert of Bellême cross together soon after Christmas. Now it is quite clear that Eustace and Robert did not come to England till after the rebellion had fully broken out, when Odo was holding Rochester against the King. The Chronicle simply says (see p. 57) that they were at Rochester with Odo. Florence (see p. 56) tells us more fully how they came to be there, namely, because they had been sent by Robert in answer to Odo’s request. Nothing was more easy than for Orderic to mistake this for a crossing in company with Odo. In his version, Odo, Eustace, and Robert, all cross with a commission from Duke Robert. In the true version Odo crosses long before to receive his English earldom, but with no purpose of disturbing the new settlement of England. He becomes discontented on English ground; he rebels, he asks help of Duke Robert, and Eustace and Robert of Bellême come in answer to his asking.

The Hyde writer, as usual, has a version of his own, which however, as far as Odo is concerned, follows that of Orderic. As soon as Robert has taken possession of his duchy, he calls a council, and sends over an army under his two uncles Bishop Odo and Count Robert, to take away the English crown from his brother. They cross the sea, winning a naval victory over a pirate fleet; they seize Rochester and Pevensey, and begin the rebellion seemingly before the end of the year 1087. This account (298) runs thus;

“Robertus … convocatis principibus et consilio habito, duos avunculos suos, comitem Moritanii et episcopum Baiocensem, cum valida manu transmittit, omnimodis decertatis Waltero [sic] fratri regnum auferre sibique conferre. Qui vela ventis committentes, et cum piratis obsistentibus in mari viriliter decertantes, Angliam veniunt, urbemque Roffensem et castellum Pevenesellum intrantes, rebellare contendunt.”

We easily see from the later history of the rebellion how this writer has taken some of its most striking incidents and, as it were, crushed them up together. As Orderic confounds the crossing of Odo with the crossing of Eustace and Robert of Bellême, so the Hyde writer seems to confound both with the later expedition from Normandy (see p. 74), which did not occupy Pevensey after a victory, but was driven back by the King’s English troops in an attempt to land at Pevensey.

The account given incidentally by Robert of Torigny (Cont. Will. Gem. viii. 3) has points in common with this version, though it may be more easily reconciled with the true story. He records the peace between William and Robert in 1091, and adds;

“Licet regnum Angliæ ipse Robertus facillime paullo ante potuisset habere, nisi minus cautus esset. Siquidem Eustachius comes Boloniæ, et episcopus Baiocensis et comes Moritolii patrui ejus, et alii principes Normanniæ, cum magno apparatu militum mare transeuntes, Rovecestriam et alia nonnulla castella in comitatu Cantuariensi occupantes et tenentes ad opus illius, dum ipsum Robertum ducem exspectant, qui tunc temporis ultra quam virum deceat in Normannia deliciabatur, obsessi diu a rege Willelmo, dum ille cujus causa tantum discrimen subierant, non subvenit, cum dedecore ipsas quas tenebant munitiones exeuntes ad propria sunt reversi.”

As for the object of the rebellion, the transfer of the English crown from William to Robert, we may hear William of Newburgh, who, though he believes (see above, p. 461) in Robert’s right of succession, yet says that he “in minori administratione, scilicet ducatus Normannici, claruit quod regno amplissimo administrando nunquam idoneus fuerit.”

What could M. de Rémusat (Anselme, 113) have meant when he said that the revolt of the Norman nobles “força le roi à se rapprocher de ses sujets bretons”? Then “il fit appel à la noblesse indigène.” This last may come from Matthew Paris; but the Welsh, the nearest approach to Bretons, joined the rebels.

NOTE C. Vol. i. pp. 28, 89.

The Share of Bishop William of Saint-Calais in the Rebellion of 1088.

There are few more glaring contradictions to be found in history than the picture of Bishop William of Saint-Calais as drawn by the southern writers, and his picture as drawn by his own hand or that of some local admirer in the Durham document printed in the Monasticon, i. 245, and in the old edition of Simeon. No one would know the meek confessor of this last version in the traitor whom the Chronicler does not shrink from likening to the blackest of all traitors. Yet, if the narratives are carefully compared, it may seem that, with all the difference in colouring, there is much less contradiction in matter of fact than we are led to think at first sight. The opposition is simply of that kind which follows when each side, without asserting any direct falsehood, leaves out all that tells on behalf of the other side. We read the Bishop’s story; we see no reason to suspect him of stating anything which did not happen; under the circumstances indeed he could hardly venture to state anything which did not happen. But we see that the statement, though doubtless true as a mere record of facts, is dressed up in a most ingenious way, so as to put everything in the best light for his side, while everything that was to be said on the other side is carefully left out. But, on the other hand, while the Chronicler, Florence, and William of Malmesbury, clearly leave out a great deal, there is no reason to think that they leave it out from any partisan wish to pervert the truth. They believed, and doubtless on good grounds, that the Bishop of Durham was a chief actor in the rebellion, and they said so. But there was nothing to lead them to dwell on his story at any special length. Their attention was chiefly drawn to other parts of the events of that stirring year. Orderic indeed, whose account of some parts of the story is so minute, does not speak of Durham or its bishop at all.

Some of the passages from the Chronicle have been quoted in the text. The Bishop of Durham is there mentioned three times. First comes the record of his influence with the King, and his treason against him;

“On þisum ræde wæs ærest Oda bisceop and Gosfrið bisceop and Willelm bisceop on Dunholme. Swa wæll dyde se cyng be þam bisceop þæt eall Englaland færde æfter his ræde, and swa swa he wolde, and he þohte to donne be him eall swa Iudas Scarioð dide be ure Drihtene.”

Then, after the account of the deliverance of Worcester, Bishop William is named at the head of the ravagers in different parts of the country; “Se bisceop of Dunholme dyde to hearme þæt he mihte ofer eall be norðan.”

Lastly, at the end of the whole story, when Odo has come out of Rochester and gone beyond sea, we read;

“Se cyng siððan sende here to Dunholme, and let besittan þone castel, and se bisceop griðode and ageaf þone castel, and forlet his biscoprice and ferde to Normandige.”

Florence, writing seemingly with the Chronicle before him, changes the story so far as to make, not Bishop William but Count Robert (see p. 33), the chief accomplice of Odo. He then gives the list of the other confederates, at the end of which, after Robert of Mowbray, Bishop Geoffrey, and Earl Roger, we read, “quod erat pejus, Willelmus episcopus Dunholmensis,” followed by the passage (see p. 23) in which he describes the Bishop’s influence with the King. After this, he says nothing more about him till he records his death in 1096.

Henry of Huntingdon (215), also writing with the Chronicle before him, leaves out the first passage of the three and translates the two others. The third stands in his text;

“Mittens rex exercitum Dunhelmiæ obsedit urbem, donec reddita est ei. Episcopus vero multique proditorum propulsi sunt in exilium.”

William of Malmesbury, in the Gesta Regum (iv. 306), first mentions the influence of Bishop William and the envy which Odo felt at it. Then, in reckoning up the Conspirators, he adds;

“Quinetiam Willelmus Dunelmensis episcopus, quem rex a secretis habuerat, in eorum perfidiam concesserat; quod graviter regem tulisse ferunt, quia, cum amissæ charitatis dispendio, remotarum provinciarum frustrabatur compendio.”

At the end of the story, after Odo is gone, he adds;

“Dunelmensis episcopus ultro mare transivit, quem rex, verecundia præteritæ amicitiæ, indemnem passus est effugere. Cæteri omnes in fidem recepti.”

In the Gesta Pontificum (272) he introduces Bishop William as “potens in sæculo,” and “oris volubilitate promptus, maxime sub Willelmo rege juniore.” This almost sounds as if he had read the debates at the bishop’s own trial, but it is more likely that he had his dealings with Anselm before his mind. He then goes on;

“Quapropter, et amicorum cohorti additus, et Angliæ prælatus, non permansit in gratia. Quippe nullis principis dictis vel factis contra eum extantibus, ab amicitia descivit, in perfidia Odonis Baiocensis et ceterorum se immiscens. Quapropter, victis partibus, ab Anglia fugatus, post duos annos indulgentia principis rediit.”

Simeon of Durham, in his History (1088, at the end of the year), says simply, “Etiam Dunholmensis episcopus Willielmus vii. anno sui episcopatus, et multi alii de Anglia exierunt.” This omission is the more to be noticed, as he clearly had Florence and the Chronicle before him. In the History of the Church of Durham (iv. 8) we get a fuller account;

“Hujus [Willielmi regis], sicut et antea patris, amicitiis antistes præfatus adjunctus, familiariter ei ad tempus adhærebat: unde etiam Alvertoniam cum suis appenditiis rex illi donavit. Post non multum vero temporis, per aliorum machinamenta orta inter ipsos dissensione, episcopus ab episcopatu pulsus ultra mare secessit, quem comes Normannorum, non ut exulem, sed ut patrem suscipiens, in magno honore per tres annos quibus ibi moratus est, habuit.”

In these accounts almost the only direct contradiction as to matters of fact comes in at the end, about the surrender of the castle of Durham to the King. The Chronicle certainly seems to imply a siege; and, reading the Chronicle only without reference to anything else, we should have thought that the Bishop himself was besieged there. William of Malmesbury, on the other hand, makes the story wind up between the King and the Bishop in a wonderfully friendly way. But on this point we can have little doubt in accepting the version which I have followed in the text (see p. 114), namely that the Bishop was not at Durham, that the castle was surrendered after a good deal of haggling, and perhaps a little plundering, on both sides, but with nothing that could be called a regular siege. In short, the Chronicler makes a little too much of the fact that the castle was surrendered to a military force. William of Malmesbury, on the other hand, makes a little too much of the fact that the Bishop was not, strictly speaking, driven from England by a judicial sentence, but that he rather went by virtue of a proposal of his own making. The only other question of strict fact which could be raised is as to the ravages which the Chronicler says were wrought by the Bishop. The picture in William of Malmesbury of the Bishop turning against the King without any provocation on his part, and the picture in the History of the Church of Durham of the men who stirred up strife between the King and the Bishop, are merely the necessary colouring from opposite sides. The only important point on this head is that the disposition to make the best of the Bishop’s conduct seems to have been general at Durham, and that it is not confined to the narrative which must have been written either by himself or under his immediate inspiration. But we must remember that the general career of William of Saint-Calais at Durham, his bringing in of monks and his splendid works of building, were sure to make him pass into the list of local worthies, so that local writers, both at the time and afterwards, would be led to make the best of his conduct in any matter.

Of the Bishop’s own story, or at least the story of some local writer who told it as the Bishop wished it to be told, I have given the substance in the text. And, as its examination does not involve any very great amount of comparison of one statement with another, I have given the most important illustrative passages in the form of notes to the text. I have said that, after all, there is little real contradiction in direct statements of fact between this version and that of the southern writers. We find the kind of differences which are sure to be found when we have on one side a general narrative, written without any special purpose, a narrative doubtless essentially true, but putting in or leaving out details almost at random, while we have on the other side a very minute and ingenious apology, enlarging on all points on which it was convenient to enlarge, and leaving out those which might tell the other way. But the truth is that the Bishop’s own statement of his services done to the King (see pp. 29, 111), and the charge which was formally brought against him by the King (see p. 98), do not really contradict one another. They may be read as a consecutive story, according to which the Bishop continued to be the King’s adviser, and to do him good outward service, after he had made up his mind to join the rebels and while he was waiting for an opportunity of so doing. It is most likely this special double-dealing which led the Chronicler to his exceptionally strong language with regard to the Bishop’s treason. The only point where there seems any kind of contradiction in fact is with regard to the dates. From the Chronicler and the other writers on the King’s side we should have thought that there was no open revolt anywhere till after Easter, whereas it is plain from the Durham story that a great deal must have happened in south-eastern England much earlier in the year. On this point the Durham version, a version founded on documents and minutely attentive to dates, is of course to be preferred. With the other writers the Bishop’s affairs are secondary throughout, and the affairs of Kent and Sussex are secondary in the first stage of the story. Till they come to the exciting scenes of the sieges of Tunbridge and Pevensey, the attention of the Chronicler, Florence, and the others, is mainly given to the affairs of the region stretching from Ilchester to Worcester. We may infer from them that the occupation of Bristol and the march against Worcester did not happen till after Easter, while we must infer from the Durham account that the movements in London, Kent, and Sussex, had happened not later than the beginning of March. There is in short no real contradiction; there is only that kind of difference which there is sure to be found when one writer gives a general view of a large subject with a general object, while another gives a minute view of one part of the subject with a special object.

We can have little doubt in accepting the fact of the Bishop’s treason, not only on the authority of the Chronicler and the other writers who follow him, but on the strength of the proceedings in the King’s court. In the Bishop’s own story a definite charge is brought against him, and he never really answers it. He goes off into a cloud of irrelevant questions, and into a statement of services done to the King, a statement which most likely is perfectly true, but which is no answer to the indictment. The great puzzle of the whole story, namely why Bishop William should have turned against the King at all, is not made any clearer on either side.

It is certainly strange that this whole story of Bishop William, so minutely told as it is and illustrating so many points in our law and history, should have drawn to itself so little attention as it has done. Thierry takes no notice of it. It would indeed be hard to get anything about “Saxons and Normans” out of it. For, though the “indocta multitudo” may fairly pass for “Saxons,” yet these same “Saxons,” if hostile to the Cenomannian Bishop, are loyally devoted to the Norman King. Lappenberg also passes by the story altogether. Sir Francis Palgrave (Normandy and England, iv. 31, 46) makes some references to it which are provokingly short, as it is the kind of story to which he could have done full justice. Dr. Stubbs (Const. Hist. i. 440) has given a summary of the chief points in debate. But I believe that I may claim to be the first modern writer who has told the tale at full length in a narrative history. There are very few stories which bring the men and the institutions of the latter part of the eleventh century before us in a more living way, while the conduct of William of Saint-Calais at this stage must specially be borne in mind when we come to estimate his later conduct in the controversy with Anselm.

NOTE D. Vol. i. p. 47.

The Deliverance of Worcester in 1088.

The story of the deliverance of Worcester is one of those stories in which we can trace the early stages of legendary growth. It is one of the tales in which a miraculous element appears, but in which we can hardly say that there is any distortion of fact. The story is told in a certain way, and with a certain colouring, with which a modern writer would not tell it. Effects are attributed to causes to which a modern writer would not attribute them. But this is all. The mere facts are perfectly credible. There is no reason to doubt that Wulfstan exhorted the royal troops and excommunicated the rebels. There is no reason to doubt that the rebels were utterly defeated by the royal troops. And we may well believe that, in a certain sense, the defeat of the rebels was largely owing to the exhortations and excommunications of Wulfstan. The only legendary element in the story is to treat a result as miraculous which, under the circumstances, was thoroughly natural.

We have several accounts from contemporary or nearly contemporary writers. First comes the Peterborough Chronicler. After the passage quoted in p. 48, he goes on;

“Ðas þing geseonde se arwurða bisceop Wlfstan wearð swiðe gedrefed on his mode, forðig him wæs betæht þe castel to healdene. Ðeahhweðer his hiredmen ferdon ut mid feawe men of þam castele, and þurh Godes mildheortnisse and þurh þæs bisceopes geearnunga ofslogon and gelæhton fif hundred manna, and þa oðre ealle aflymdon.”

Here is nothing miraculous, only a very natural tendency to ascribe the deliverance to the prayers and merits of the Bishop. The version of Simeon of Durham (1088) gives us the “yearning” of Wulfstan in the more dramatic shape of a spoken prayer;

“Perrexerunt usque Wigornam, omnia ante se vastantes et igne consumentes. Cogitaverunt etiam quod castrum et ecclesiam vellent accipere, quod videlicet castrum tunc temporis commendatum erat Wlstano venerabili episcopo. Quando episcopus ista audivit, valde contristabatur, et cogitans quid consilii inde haberet, vertit se ad Deum suum, et rogat ut respiciat ecclesiam suam et populum suum ab hostibus oppressum. Hæc eo meditante, familia ejus exiliit de castro, et acceperunt et occiderunt ex eis quingentos viros, et alios in fugam verterunt.”

In the version of Henry of Huntingdon (p. 215, Arnold) we again find only the prayer; but it is told with a picturesque description of the Bishop lying before the altar, while the loyal troops go forth, and, by a somewhat bold figure, the discomfiture of the enemy is made to be the work of Wulfstan himself. The number of the slain is also increased tenfold;

“Principes Herefordscyre et Salopscyre prædantes combusserunt cum Walensibus provinciam Wireceastre usque ad portas urbis. Cum autem templum et castellum assilire pararent, Wlstanus episcopus sanctus quendam amicum familiarem summis in necessitatibus compellavit, Deum videlicet excelsum. Cujus ope coram altari jacens in oratione, paucis militibus emissis, quinque mille hostium vel occidit vel cepit; ceteros vero mirabiliter fugavit.”

William of Malmesbury in the Gesta Regum (iv. 306) gives the prayer the form of a blessing on the King’s troops;

“Rogerius de Monte Gomerico, exercitum suum a Scrobesbiria cum Walensibus mittens, coloniam Wigorniensem prædabatur; jamque Wigorniam infestus advenerat, cum regii milites qui prætendebant, freti benedictione Wulstani episcopi, cui custodia castelli commissa erat, pauci multos effugarunt, pluribusque sauciis et cæsis, quosdam abduxerunt.”

Orderic (666 D) cuts the matter very short; but it is in his version that we first hear of Wulfstan cursing the rebels, as well as blessing the King’s troops. Having mentioned Osbern and Bernard (see pp. 33, 34), he merely adds; “In territorio Wigornensi rapinis et cædibus, prohibente et anathematizante viro Dei Wlfstano episcopo, nequiter insistebant.”

Here one might almost think that the anathema was of none effect. It is quite otherwise in the version which William of Malmesbury gives in the Gesta Pontificum (285)—​in his special Life of Wulfstan he leaves out the story altogether;

“Rogerius comes de Monte-gomerico, perfidiam contra principem meditatus, cum ejusdem factionis complicibus arma movebat infestus. Jamque, a Scrobbesberia usque Wigorniensem coloniam omnibus vastatis, urbem ipsam appropinquabat; cum regii milites, qui prætendebant, periculum exponunt episcopo. Is, maledictionis fulmen jaculatus in perfidos qui domino suo fidem non servarent, jubet milites properare, Dei et ecclesiæ injurias ulturos. Mirum quis dixerit quod subjiciam, sed auctoritati veracium narratorum cedendum? Quidam enim adversariorum, regiis conspectis, timore inerti perculsi, quidam etiam cæcati, victoriam plenam, et qualem sperare nequibant, oppidanis cessere. Multi enim a paucis fugati, pars cæsi, pars saucii abducti.”

We have here only the cursing without the blessing; the point is that the curse is pronounced before the royal army sets out. The anathema in this version has its full effect; the legendary element appears in the story of the blindness of the enemy.

Lastly, we come to the account to which William most likely alludes when he speaks of the “veraces narratores,” that is, to the minute account given by Florence, which I have mainly followed in the text. His local knowledge and special interest in the story led him to tell it in much fuller detail than is found anywhere else. On the other hand, he gives a greater prominence than is given by any one else to the wonder-working effects of Wulfstan’s curse. This is only what was natural; it was in his own city, and above all in his own monastery, that the merits and miracles of the saint would be most fondly dwelled on, and most firmly believed in. At Worcester, if anywhere, the tale of the deliverance of Worcester was likely to grow. It is therefore in the local writer from whom we get our most trustworthy details that we also find the first approach to a really legendary element, though that element seems to go no further than a slight change in the order of events which brings out the saint’s powers more prominently. As we read the other versions, above all the fuller one of William of Malmesbury in the Gesta Pontificum, we should certainly infer that whatever Wulfstan did in the way of praying, blessing, or cursing, was done before the royal troops marched out of Worcester. In Florence the blessing and the cursing stand apart. The Bishop goes into the castle (see pp. 49, 50); the royal troops of all kinds make ready for battle, and meet the Bishop on his way to the castle, offering to cross the river and attack the enemy, if he gives them leave. He gives them leave, and promises them success (see p. 50). They then cross the bridge, and see the enemy afar spoiling the lands of the bishopric. On hearing of this, Wulfstan is persuaded to speak his anathema, which at once takes effect in the wonderful overthrow of the enemy.

“Res miranda, et Dei virtus et viri bonitas nimis in hoc prædicanda; nam statim hostes, ut sparsi vagabantur per agros, tanta membrorum percutiuntur debilitate, tanta exteriori oculorum attenuantur cæcitate, ut vix arma valerent ferre, nec socios agnoscere, nec eos discernere qui eis oberant ex adversa parte. Illos fallebat cæcitatis ignorantia, nostros confortabat Dei et episcopalis benedictionis confidentia. Sic illi insensati nec sciebant capere fugam, nec alicujus defensionis quærebant viam; sed Dei nutu dati in reprobum sensum, facile cedebant manibus inimicorum.”

Now this is a legend of the very simplest kind; or rather it is not strictly a legend at all, but only a story on the way to become a legend. Beyond a slight change in the order, there is no reason to suspect that the facts of the case are at all misrepresented; they are simply coloured in the way in which it was natural that the successful party should colour them. There is in strictness no miraculous element in the story; it has merely reached the stage at which the germs of a miraculous element are beginning to show themselves. That Wulfstan would encourage his people to fight in a good cause, that he would pray for their success, we may feel certain. That his exhortation might take the shape of a promise—​perhaps only a conditional promise—​of victory is no more than was natural. And an anathema pronounced against the rebels is as natural as the blessing pronounced on the royal troops. We may be sure that men stirred up by such exhortations and promises would really fight the better for having heard them. And if the fact that Wulfstan had pronounced an anathema, or even that he was likely to pronounce an anathema, anyhow came to the knowledge of the rebels, it is hardly less certain that they would fight the worse for hearing of it. The only thing in which there is even the germ of miracle is the statement that the invaders were smitten with lameness or blindness or something like it, at the very moment when the Bishop pronounced his excommunication. Now, in all stories of this kind, we must bear in mind that mysterious power of φήμη (see vol. ii. p. 309), which I do not profess to explain, but which certainly is a real thing. News certainly does sometimes go at a wonderful pace; and the rebels might really hear the news of Wulfstan’s excommunication so soon that it would be a very slight exaggeration to say that it wrought an effect on them at the very moment when it was uttered. A body of men who had already broken their ranks and were scattered abroad for plunder hear that a sentence has been pronounced against them by a man whose office and person were held in reverence by all men, French and English—​for the Britons I cannot answer. At this news they would surely fall into greater confusion still, and would become an easy prey to the better disciplined troops who had the Bishop’s exhortations and promises still ringing in their ears. To say that such men, confused and puzzled, not knowing which way to turn, were struck with sudden blindness and lameness would be little more than a poetical way of describing what really happened. That all this was owing to the prayers and merits of Wulfstan would of course be taken for granted; that the victory was owing to his prayers and merits is taken for granted in those versions of the story which do not bring in the least approach to a miraculous element. One change only in the story itself would seem, as I have already hinted, to come from a legendary source. I have in my own text, while following the details of Florence, not scrupled so far to depart from his order as to make the Bishop’s anathema come before, instead of after, the march of the royal troops from the city. That is, I have made the blessing and cursing take place at the same time. This seems better to agree with the account in the Gesta Pontificum. And, following, as it seems to me, the words of the Chronicle (geseonde), I have ventured to make Wulfstan actually see the havoc wrought by the invaders, while we should infer from Florence, as from Simeon, that he only heard of it. It is of course part of the wonder that his anathema should work its effect on men at a distance. By making these two small changes—​which the other accounts seem to bear out—​in the narrative of Florence, we get a version in which there is really no legendary element at all, beyond the pious or poetical way in which the discomfiture of the enemy is spoken of. To say that the enemy were smitten with blindness and lameness was an obvious figure of speech. To say that they were so smitten by virtue of the Bishop’s anathema was, in the ideas of those times, no figure of speech at all, but a natural inference from the fact. To say that they were smitten, while still at a distance, at the very moment when the Bishop pronounced the anathema was an improvement, perhaps rather a devout inference, so very obvious that it hardly marks a later stage in the story. The tale is as yet hardly legendary; it is only on the point of becoming so. But it is the kind of story which one would have expected to grow. Yet those later writers who mention the matter seem simply to copy Florence, without bringing in any further improvements of their own. It is strange that, in the local Annals, as in the Life of Wulfstan, the deliverance of Worcester is left out altogether.

The story of the deliverance of Worcester may be compared with the story of the overthrow of Swegen at Gainsburgh. See N. C. vol. i. p. 366. But the Worcester story is in an earlier stage than the Gainsburgh story. The main difference is that the hero of the one story was dead, while the hero of the other story was alive. The living Bishop of Worcester could not, even in a figure or in a legend, be brought in as acting as the dead and canonized King of the East-Angles could be made to act. The utmost that could be done in this way was when Henry of Huntingdon speaks of the exploits of the loyal army as the personal exploits of the Bishop whom he describes as lying before the altar. Wulfstan, notwithstanding his youthful skill in military exercises (see N. C. vol. ii. p. 470), could not be brought in as smiting the enemy, lance in hand, as Saint Eadmund did Swegen.

Another story of an army smitten with blindness is that of the Normans at Northallerton in 1069 (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 241). And a scene not unlike the scene before Worcester, though the circumstances are all different, and the position of the bishop in the story is specially different, is to be found in the rout of the Cenomannian army before Sillé in 1073 (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 553).

Two small questions of fact arise out of the comparison of our authorities. The expressions of the Chronicler (“forðig him was betæht þe castel to healdene”), of Simeon, and of William of Malmesbury in the Gesta Regum (“cui custodia castelli commissa erat”) would certainly lead us to think that Wulfstan was actually commanding for the King in the castle when the rebellion began. The detailed narrative in Florence makes him go to the castle only at the special request of the garrison when the enemy are on their march. There is perhaps no formal contradiction. Wulfstan had before now held military command (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 579), and he might have the command of the castle without being actually within its walls. But the story in Florence does not set Wulfstan before us as an actual military commander, but rather as a person venerated of all men whose approval of the course to be taken was sought by those who were in command. It is safest to take the detailed story in Florence, and to take the words of the Chronicler and of Simeon and William as the laxer way of speaking used by men who did not aim at the same local precision. The Bishop might in some sort be said to have the castle entrusted to him when the garrison had asked him to come into it.

The other point is that William of Malmesbury in both his versions seems to make Earl Roger present in person before Worcester. But the language of the other accounts (see p. 47) seems carefully to imply that, though he joined in the “unrede,” and though his men were engaged in the revolt on the border, yet he had not himself any personal share in that campaign. It is certain that, when we next hear of him (see p. 58), it is in quite another character and in quite another part of England.

A lately published record brings in a new actor in the defence of Worcester. This is the “Annales de ecclesiis et regnis Anglorum” in Liebermann’s “Ungedruckte Anglo-Normannische Geschichtsquellen,” 22. This contains an account of the deliverance of Worcester, enlarged from Florence, in which Abbot Guy of Pershore appears as Wulfstan’s military lieutenant; “Intererat quidam consilio providus Wido Persorcusis abbas. Hunc ultro se offerentem jus pontificale creans ad tempus militem, statuit belli ducem totum in Deo et in orationibus episcopi confidentem.” Guy was the successor of Thurstan (see N. C. vol. iv. pp. 384, 697) who died in 1087. He was one of the abbots deposed by Anselm in 1102. As Anselm himself had held a military command, the deposition could hardly have been on the ground of Guy’s exploits on this day.

NOTE E. Vol. i. p. 74.

The Attempted Landing of the Normans at Pevensey.

It is with some hesitation that I have spoken as I have done in the text, because it is hard to reconcile our authorities without supposing that the siege of Pevensey was accompanied by a sea-force on the part of the King. No ships have been spoken of before; none are distinctly mentioned now; some of the descriptions might be understood only of a land-force lining the shore; but operations on the water seem implied in some of the accounts, and they may be understood in any. There is no need to think of a great fleet; the sea-faring men of the neighbourhood could surely do all that is recorded to have been done.

The words of the Chronicler, of William of Malmesbury, and of Henry of Huntingdon, might be understood merely of a land-force employed to keep the enemy from landing; but their expressions may be quite as naturally taken of operations on the water as well. The Chronicler is emphatic on the exploit of the English;

“Ac þa Englisce men þe wærdedon þære sæ gelæhton of þam mannon and slogon, and adrengton ma þonne ænig man wiste to tellanne.”

So Henry of Huntingdon (215); “Anglici mare custodientes occiderunt et submerserunt ex illis innumerabiles.”

The details come from William of Malmesbury, iv. 306;

“Inter has obsidionis moras, homines regis mare custodientes quosdam quos comes Normanniæ in auxilium perfidorum miserat, partim cæde, partim naufragio, oppressere: reliqui fugam intendentes et suspendere carbasa conati, moxque vento cessante destituti, ludibrio nostris, sibi exitio, fuere; nam, ne vivi caperentur, e transtris se in mare præcipitarunt.”

It is Simeon of Durham (1088) who more distinctly brings out the features of a fight by sea;

“Rex Willelmus jam mare munierat suis piratis, qui venientes in Angliam tot occiderunt et in mare merserunt, ut nullus sit hominum qui sciat numerum pereuntium.”

This seems to come from the Chronicle; but “þa Englisce men þe wærdedon þære sæ” are distinctly sent on board vessels of some kind by the name of “piratæ.”

The “pirates” too and the sea-fight come out more distinctly in the narrative of the Hyde writer quoted above (see p. 76). His tale must really mean the attack on Pevensey with which we are now dealing, though he has strangely confused times, places, and persons.

Roger of Wendover (ii. 34) gives the narrative of William of Malmesbury a new turn, and specially puts the “perfidi” of his version in an unlooked-for light;

“Inter has obsidionis moras, ministri regis mare custodientes quosdam quos dux Robertus in auxilium prædictorum miserat schismaticorum, partim cæde et partim naufragio oppresserunt: quorum quidam fugam meditantes vento destituuntur, et sic ludibrio Anglis sibique exitio exstiterunt, nam, ne vivi caperentur, ultro sese fluctibus submerserunt.”

Florence (see p. 74) gives an animated account of the operations by land; but he wholly leaves out the coming of the Norman fleet.

NOTE F. Vol. i. p. 137.

The Bishopric of Somerset and the Abbey of Bath.

William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 194) has got wrong in his chronology when he makes John already bishop before the death of the Conqueror, but unable to carry out his scheme for the removal of the bishopric till the accession of Rufus. “Minoris gloriæ putans si in villa [should this be some form of Wells?] resideret inglorius, transferre thronum in Bathoniam animo intendit. Sed cum id inaniter, vivente Willelmo patre, cogitasset, tempore Willelmi filii effecit.” Gisa certainly did not die till 1088, and John was consecrated in July of that year. “Qui cum rex excellentissimus Willielmus senior, qui xxij. annis regnaverat, fine laudabili vitam conclusisset, et Willielmus junior filius ejus pro eo regnaret, consecratus est episcopus in Julio.” (Historiola, 21.)

The transfer of the bishopric to Bath and the union of the abbey with the bishopric are undoubted facts; as the writer of the Historiola says, “Statim cathedram pontificis transtulit de Wella Bathoniæ.” The charter of William Rufus making this grant is printed in the Monasticon, ii. 266; the original is preserved in the chapter library at Wells. It is in two handwritings, the former part containing the first grant of 1088, while the second consists of a confirmation of 1090, or rather 1091. The substance of the grant is contained in the words;

“Ego Willelmus Willelmi regis filius, Dei dispositione monarches Britanniæ, pro meæ meique patris remedio animæ, et regni prosperitate, et populi a Domino mihi collati salute, concessi Johanni episcopo abbatiam sancti Petri Bathoniæ, cum omnibus appendiciis, tam in villis quam in civitate et in consuetudinibus, illis videlicet, quibus saisita erat ea die qua regnum suscepi. Dedi, inquam, ad Sumersetensis episcopatus augmentationem, eatenus præsertim ut inibi instituat præsuleam sedem.”

On the use of the title “monarches Britanniæ,” see N. C. vol. i. p. 561. It is somewhat singular that, when Henry of Huntingdon (211) speaks of the Conqueror as leaving “regnum Angliæ” to his second son, Robert of Torigny, in his own Chronicle, 1085, changes it into “monarchiam Angliæ.”

The date of the first grant is thus given;

“Lanfranco archipræsule machinante, Wintoniæ factum est donum hujus beneficii, mill. lxxxviiiᵒ. anno ab incarnatione Domini, secundo vero anno regni regis Willelmi filii prioris Willelmi.”

The second year of William Rufus takes in from September 26, 1088, to September 26, 1089. It is perhaps not necessary to suppose that this first grant was made in an assembly at all. If it was, we must either suppose an extraordinary assembly in the autumn of 1088 (for we have seen by the story of Bishop William of Durham that the Christmas assembly of that year was held as usual at Westminster, see p. 116), or else we must suppose that it was done in the Easter assembly of 1089. Yet it is rather straining chronology, even if we begin the year at Easter, to reckon that assembly to 1088. (In 1089 Easter-day fell on April 1st.) But that the dates of this charter begin the year at some time later than the 1st of January is plain from the confirmation, which was made at Dover “anno Dominicæ incarnationis mill. xc. regni vero mei iiii. indictione xiii. vi. kal. Febr. luna iii.” This must mean the January of 1091, as the January of 1090 comes in the third, not in the fourth, year of Rufus. Also the charter is signed by Ralph Bishop of Chichester and Herbert Bishop of Thetford, who did not become bishops till 1091, and who thus seem to have been consecrated very early in the year. The confirmation would thus seem to have been made just before William Rufus crossed into Normandy in 1091 (see p. 273), when Dover was a likely place to find him at. A long list of signatures was made ready, though some only of the names actually received the cross from the signer’s own hand. Among these indeed are the names of Ralph and Herbert themselves, as well as those of Saint Wulfstan and Bishop Geoffrey of Coutances. Bishop Howel of Le Mans signs with his own hand, and after the abbots comes the unsigned name of “Gosfridus Mala Terra” without any further description. Can this be the historian of the Apulian wars? The earls and counts whose names are given are Roger (of Shrewsbury), Robert (of Mortain or of Meulan?), Simon (of Northampton), Hugh (of Chester), Alan (of Britanny and Richmond), Henry, Walter, and William. Of these, Roger, Simon, and Alan actually sign. Earl Walter must be Walter Giffard, created Earl of Buckingham by Rufus (see Stubbs, Const. Hist. i. 361). Henry must be Henry Earl of Warwick, brother of Robert of Meulan (see Will. Gem. vii. 4; Ord. Vit. 676 A; Will. Malms. v. 393; Stubbs, u. s.), and William must be the younger William of Warren, Earl of Surrey, that is, if his father died as is asserted by the Hyde writer, or even so soon as we should infer from Orderic (680 D). The signatures to this charter thus help us in fixing the dates of the creation of these earldoms. “Robertus cancellarius” is the future Bishop of Lincoln. “Samson capellanus,” who does not sign though his name is there, must surely be he who refused the bishopric of Le Mans (see p. 205), or else he who was afterwards Bishop of Worcester (see p. 542), if the two are not the same. Among smaller lay names are many with which we are familiar. The name of Robert Fitz-hamon stands apart after the earls, marking his special position in the King’s favour. The name of Randolf Peverel, whom we have met with in the story of Bishop William (see p. 109), is followed in the original by that of William Peverel, which is left out in the Monasticon. The Sheriff Aiulf (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 163) and Ælfred of Lincoln (see N. C. vol. iii. p. 778) are the only names which can be those of Englishmen. So soon were the promises of the Red King forgotten.

It was almost needless on the part of Roger of Wendover (ii. 42), or whoever he followed, to say that the change was made “consensu Willelmi regis, albo unguento manibus ejus delibatis,” a phrase which reminds one of “candidi nummi” in Domesday, 164.

Of the two societies which this change so deeply affected, we hear the moan of the monks of Bath in William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 195), and that of the canons of Wells in the local Historiola (22). Of Bishop John’s doings at Bath we read;

“Primo aliquantum dure in monachos agebat, quod essent hebetes et ejus æstimatione barbari, et omnes terras, victualium ministras, auferens, pauculumque victum per laicos suos exiliter inferens. Sed, procedentibus annis, factis novis monachis, mitius se agere, aliquantulum terrarum, quo se hospitesque suos quoquomodo sustentarent, priori indulgens. Multa ibi nobiliter per eum incepta et consummata, in ornamentis et libris, maximeque monachorum congregatione, qui sunt scientia literarum et sedulitate officiorum juxta prædicabiles…. Obiit grandævus, qui nec etiam moriens emolliri potuit, ut plena manu monachorum terras redderet, successoribus suis non imitandum præbens exemplum.”

The Wells tale forms a very remarkable piece of local history, the main features of which are given in the local Historiola (22), and which has been illustrated by Dr. Stubbs.

Our more general history is chiefly concerned with the undoing of the work of Gisa;

“Domiciliis quoque canonicorum quæ Gyso venerabilis construxerat, refectorio scilicet et dormitorio necnon et cellario et aliis officinis necessariis, cum claustro dirutis, canonici foras ejecti coacti sunt cum populo communiter vivere, quos Gyso docuerat regulariter et religiose cohabitare.”

He afterwards, we are told, repented; but the canons of Wells did not recover their property till the days of Bishop Robert (1136–1166), who, though himself a monk, settled the constitution of the church of Wells after the usual pattern of secular chapters.

The later Wells writer in Anglia Sacra, i. 560, tells this story, that is the story of the Historiola, with a few further touches. We read how John, “inconsultis canonicis Wellensibus et præter eorum consensum, transtulit sedem episcopalem Wellensem in abbatiam Bathoniensem … et dimisso nomine episcopatus Wellensis, primus omnium fecit se Bathoniensem episcopum appellari.” This last charge is doubtless true; but it may be doubted whether the bishopric of the Sumorsætan, though its bishopsettle was at Wells, had ever been know by the local style of bishopric of Wells (see N. C. vol. ii. pp. 606, 608). He tells the story of the destruction of the canonical buildings, with the addition that “fundum in quo prius habitabant sibi et suis successoribus usurpavit, palatiumque suum episcopale ibidem construxit.” One is almost inclined to think that there is here some confusion between John’s two sets of victims, at Bath and at Wells. The use of the word “palatium” is later than the days of John; but he doubtless did build his chief house at Bath, and it may very likely have been at the cost of the monks. He is not at all likely, when forsaking Wells, to have built himself a house there, and, unless Bishop Robert in the next century altogether changed the site of the church, no cloister can ever have stood on the site of the present palace of Wells. Yet the building of the house supplies a motive for pulling down the cloister, which otherwise seems to be lacking.

The grant of the city of Bath to Bishop John was first made by William Rufus, and was afterwards confirmed by Henry the First. The first grant is recorded in the Historiola (21);

“Cum in multis et magnis obsequendo regis familiaritatem obtineret, impetravit ab ipso sibi civitatem Bathoniæ.”

The confirmation by Henry is recorded by Florence (1122), and by William of Malmesbury, Gest. Pont. 194;

“Nec eo contentus, totam etiam civitatem in suos et successorum usus transtulit, ab Henrico rege quingentis libris argenti mercatus urbem, in qua balnearum calidarum latex emergens auctorem Julium Cæsarem habuisse creditur.”

(He goes on with more about the Bath waters and the history of the place.)

The Monasticon contains several charters bearing on this matter (ii. 267, 268). There is first the charter of Rufus, addressed “O[smundo] episcopo Saresbergensi et T[urstano] abbati, Glastoniensi et A[iulfo?] vicecomiti, omnibusque baronibus Francigenis et Anglis de Sumerseta et de Wiltunscire,” which grants “totam civitatem Bathoniæ in eleemosynam et ad augmentationem pontificalis sedis suæ … ut cum maximo honore pontificalem suam habeat sedem.” Then comes one of Henry’s grants at Windsor in 1101, when he says, “Renovavi donum quod fecerat frater meus Willelmus rex de civitate Bathoniæ, et eamdem civitatem donavi Deo et beato Petro apostolo et Johanni episcopo, cum omnibus consuetudinibus et appendiciis quæ ad ipsum pertinent, civitatem constitui et concessi, ut ibi deinceps sit caput et mater ecclesia totius episcopatus de Sumersete.”

Another charter of Henry, confirming various privileges, is granted at Bishop’s Waltham in 1111 “in transitu regis in Normanniam” (see the Chronicle, 1111, and N. C. vol. v. p. 182). It says, “Eam donationem quam donavi Deo et sancto Petro in Batha, ubi frater meus Willielmus et ego constituimus et confirmavimus sedem episcopatus totius Summersetæ, quæ olim erat apud villam quæ dicitur Wella, scilicet ipsam urbem et omnia pertinentia ad firmam ejusdem civitatis, dono et confirmo ipsi Domino nostro Jesu Christo et beato apostolo Petro et Johanni episcopo ejusque successoribus jure perpetuo et hæreditario.”

Another from Geddington in 1102 is addressed to a string of great men, “omnibusque baronibus Francigenis et Angligenis de Sumerset et de omni Anglia.”

The wording of these charters illustrates a crowd of points which we have come across at various times, as the name of the land of Somerset, the use of “jus hæreditarium,” and specially the “barones [þegnas] Angligenæ.” Among the signatures the charter of 1111 has the unsigned names of two Romans, “Johannes Tusculanus episcopus” and “Tyberius dapifer et legatus.” (This Tiberius is spoken of again in a letter of Anselm to Gundulf, Ep. iii. 85, and in a letter to King Henry, iii. 86, therefore before 1108, the date of Gundulf’s death, but after the promotion of Gerard to the archbishopric of York; he was in England on business about the Romescot.) The second has the name of “Johannes Baiocensis,” seemingly the son of Bishop Odo. Naturally neither King makes any mention of the five hundred pounds which, according to William of Malmesbury, the Bishop paid for the grant.

Lastly, there is Bishop John’s charter of 1106 (“regnante Henrico filio magni Willelmi Northmannorum ducis et Anglorum regis”), which records his own acts, and makes some restitution at least to the monks;

“Notum vobis facio quod ad honorem Dei et sancti Petri elaboravi et ad effectum perduxi, cum decenti auctoritate, ut caput et mater ecclesia totius episcopatus de Sumerseta sit in urbe Bathonia in ecclesia S. Petri. Cui beato apostolo et servitoribus ejus monachis reddidi terras eorum quas aliquamdiu injuste tenueram in manu mea, ita integre et libere sicut Alsius abbas ante me tenuit.”

He grants them certain lands which he had bought, amongst others the estate of Hugh or Hugolin with the Beard, a purchase mentioned also in the Historiola, where the price is given at sixty pounds. A comparison of the three places in Domesday 49 b, 50 b, and 99 seems to show that Mr. Hunter (p. 38) is right in making “Hugo barbatus” in Hampshire and “Hugolinus interpres” the same man. But he leaves out his third description in 50 b as “Hugo latinarius.” It is some comfort to learn from Mr. Hunter that the “taini regis” were “a very respectable class;” but it is perhaps more important to note that we have here a “tainus Francigena” to match the “barones Angligenæ.” Some of Hugh’s lands had been held of Earl Tostig by one Siward.

In the Monasticon (ii. 264) and the Codex Diplomaticus (vi. 209–211) are some English documents, chiefly sales and manumissions, done at Bath in the days of Abbot Ælfsige and Bishop John. As usual in these private documents, there is a great mixture of Norman and English names among the signatures. Take such a list as this in Cod. Dipl. vi. 210;

“Osward preóst, and Willelm ðe clerce, and Hugo ðe postgerefa, and Beóring, and Leófríc, and Heoðewulf, and Burchhard, and Wulwi, and Geosfræi, and Ælfword ðe smið, and Eádwi se rédes sune, and Rodberd ðe Frencisce.”

Here we have one of our puzzling Domesday Ælfreds (see N. C. v. 737, 777) witnessing a manumission of Bishop John;

“Her swutelað on ðisse Cristes béc ðæt Lifgið æt Forda is gefreód and hire twa cild for ðone biscop Iohanne and for ealne ðone hired on Baðon on Ælfredes gewitnesse Aspania.”

Again in Monasticon, ii. 265 (cf. p. 269), we have a somewhat puzzling mention of an Abbot Wulfwold as well as Ælfsige;

“Her geswytelað on þysan gewrite þa forefarde þa Willelm Hosatt geworhte wið Wlfwold abbod, and wið Ælfsige abbod and wið eall þone hired on Baðan.”

All this must be a little startling to those who believe that the Conqueror ordered all documents to be drawn up in French.

There is also a Latin document printed in the Archæological Journal, No. 145, p. 83, in which William of Moion, the first Norman lord of Dunster, grants the church of Dunster to Bishop John and his monks (“ecclesiæ beati Petri de Bathonia et Johanni episcopo ejusdem monasterii et monachis tam præsentibus quam futuris”). William of Moion’s witnesses seem to be all Normans; but we get some English names among those on the part of the Bishop; “Gireuuardus monachus et Girebertus archidiaconus et Dunstanus sacerdos et Gillebertus sacerdos et Willelmus clericus et Adelardus dapifer et Turaldus et Sabianus.”

There is a letter of Anselm (Ep. iii. 151) addressed to John Prior of Bath and the monks, but it contains no historical information. John was the first Prior after the change of foundation.

NOTE G. Vol. i. p. 144.

The Character of William Rufus.

Some of the main points in the character of William Rufus are not badly hit off by Giraldus (de Inst. Princ. iii. 30), though there are features on which he does not dwell;

“Erat rex ille strenuus in armis et animosus, sed tyrannus, adeo militiam diligens ecclesiamque Dei exosam habens ut monasteria cuncta domosque religiosas ab Anglis olim per Angliam fundatas et ditatas, cum terris omnibus et possessionibus, vel ex majori mutilare vel in militares feodos convertere proposuisset.”

These last words are of importance for another part of our inquiry (see p. 346); but the general phrase “militiam diligens,” a phrase capable of more meanings than one, is, in all its meanings, strictly applicable to Rufus.

Part of the character of him given by the Hyde writer (299) has been already quoted (see p. 353). He is brought in as follows, with the further note that he was “nimis amator pecuniæ;”

“Willelmus rex animo ferus, corpore strenuus, defensor quidem patriæ cœpit esse, sed non satis idoneus procreator [protector? or is a “nursing-father” meant?] ecclesiæ. Si enim ita studeret religioni quam vanæ curiositati, nullus ei profecto deberet princeps comparari.”

Geoffrey Gaimar (Chron. Ang. Norm. i. 30) brings him on the stage with some respect;

“Willam out non come son père,

Et cil refut mult allosé.
Englois, Normanz, l’ont honuré;
Tant come le duc ala conquere,
Le firent roi en Engleterre;
Et il la tint et bien regna,
Normanz, Englois, fort justisa,
Tote la terre mist en peès.”

(For “honuré” another reading is “coroné.”) He then goes on to the war in Maine, so closely that he reaches Seez on his march soon enough for the name of that city to rime with “peès.”

But, after the picture in the Chronicles (1100), the character of William Rufus is best studied in the two works of William of Malmesbury. On the account in the Gesta Regum I have of course drawn largely; it is in fact, with some help from Orderic, our main storehouse. The tone which its writer takes throughout is very remarkable; he tries to make the best of things without directly contradicting the facts. In his prologue to the fourth book he complains of the difficulty, one which has not lessened since his time, of telling the exact truth about recent matters, especially when kings are concerned; and he at last lays down a rule which would forbid any suggestio falsi, but would allow a good deal of suppressio veri;

“Dicam in hoc libro … quidquid de Willelmo filio Willelmi magni dici poterit, ita ut nec veritas rerum titubet, nec principalis decoloretur majestas.”

He brings William Rufus in in the beginning of the book itself;

“Incomparabilis proculdubio nostro tempore princeps, si non eum magnitudo patris obrueret, nec ejus juventutem fata præcipitassent, ne per ætatem maturiorem aboleret errores licentia potestatis et impetu juvenili contractos.”

Certainly Rufus, like many other sinners, might have reformed; but the charitable hope is made less likely by the general witness, including that of the writer himself, that he grew worse and worse. For William of Malmesbury (iv. 312) says himself;

“Excellebat in eo magnanimitas, quam ipse processu temporis nimia severitate obfuscavit; ita in ejus furtim pectus vitia pro virtutibus serpebant ut discernere nequiret. Diu dubitavit mundus quo tandem vergeret, quo se inclinaret, indoles illius. Inter initia, vivente Lanfranco archiepiscopo, ab omni crimine abhorrebat, ut unicum fore regum speculum speraretur; quo defuncto, aliquamdiu varium se præstitit æquali lance vitiorum atque virtutum, jam vero, postremis annis bonorum gelante studio, incommodorum seges succrescens incaluit. Et erat ita liberalis quod prodigus, ita magnanimus quod superbus, ita severus quod sævus. Liceat enim mihi, pace majestatis regiæ, verum non occuluisse, quia iste parum Deum reverebatur, nihil homines.”

He then gives some details, most of which I have quoted already, and adds an elaborate discourse on real and false liberality. He is obliged to allow (ib. 313) that the liberality of William Rufus was of the latter kind;

“Quidam, cum non habeant quod dent, ad rapinas convertuntur, majusque odium assequuntur ab his quibus auferunt quam beneficium ab his quibus contulerunt; quod huic regi accidisse dolemus.”

Some way on, after more about his liberality, followed by the description of the vices of the court, of which more anon, and a short reference to Anselm and Eadmer, comes (iv. 316) a most singular passage;

“Vides quantus e liberalitate quam putabat fomes malorum eruperit. In quibus corrigendis quia ipse non tam exhibuit diligentiam quam prætendebat negligentiam, magnam et vix abolendam incurrit infamiam; immerito, credo, quia nunquam se tali supponeret probro qui se tanto meminisset prælatum imperio. Hæc igitur ideo inelaborato et celeri sermone convolvo, quia de tanto rege mala dicere erubesco, in dejiciendis et extenuandis malis laborans.”

Then come the anecdotes, the annals of the reign, and the account of the King’s death. Then (iv. 333) we get another small picture of him, how he was

“Ingentia præsumens, et ingentia, si pensa Parcarum evolvere vel violentiam fortunæ abrumpere et eluctari potuisset, facturus.”

Lastly, he is dismissed with this general character;

“Vir sacrati ordinis hominibus, pro damno animæ cujus salutem revocare laborent, maxime miserandus; stipendiariis militibus pro copia donativorum mirandus; provincialibus, quod eorum substantias abradi sinebat, non desiderandus.”

The Gesta Regum was the courtly book, written for courtly readers, and dedicated to Earl Robert, the Red King’s nephew. The subject demanded that the writer should say something about the Red King; he had no mind to tell actual lies; so he made the best of him that he could without telling any. But William of Malmesbury also wrote the Gesta Pontificum for ecclesiastical readers. In that book bishops were the main subject; kings came in only incidentally. But, when he did speak of them, he was not under the same necessity as he was in his other work of speaking of them with bated breath. In this work he treated William Rufus very much as he treated several bishops, William’s own Flambard among them. He first wrote a most severe character of him, and then cut it out altogether. The passages which thus perished in the second edition are printed in Mr. Hamilton’s notes, pp. 73, 79, 84, 104. In the first place (73) he tells us how the King, “abjecto respectu omnis boni, omnia ecclesiastica in fiscum redegit.” He was “juvenili calore et regio fastu præfervidus, humana divinaque juxta ponderans et sui juris æstimans.” But he has spoken of his ways elsewhere—​doubtless in the Gesta Regum—he will now speak of them only as occasion serves. In the next place (79) he wrote at first;

“Licet nulla Dei consideratio, nulla cujuscunque hominis sanctitas, ejus proterviam sedare possent, adeo cuncta quæ sibi dicebantur vel turbida ira vel facetis, ut sibi videbatur, salibus eludebat.”

This was too strong; in the second edition things are put in another light;

“Hoc in rege magnificum videri debet, quod qui omnia pro potestate facere posset, magis quædam joco eludebat, ad sales multa extra judicium animi transferens.”

The third passage (84) comes in the story of Anselm; the part of it which concerns us here runs thus;

“Rex in eum [Anselmum] et in omnes venabatur lites, commentabatur caussas quibus congregaret pecunias. In exactionibus sævus, in male partis dispertiendo prodigus, ibi harpyiarum ungues, hic Cleopatræ luxum, in utroque impudentiam prætendens. Si quis ei sponte quid obtulisset, nisi quantitas dati suæ conveniret menti, statim obliquo intuitu exterrebat quoad illum ad quas liberet doni conditiones adduceret.”

The last passage (104) also comes in the story of Anselm. William’s character is thus drawn;

“Protervus et arrogans, æque in Deum ut in homines rebellis, religioni Christianæ magis ex usu quam amore addictus, ut qui plures Judæos Christianos factos ad Judaismum pecuniis corruptus revocaret. Omnia fato agi credulus, nullum sanctorum nos posse adjuvare credebat et dicebat, subinde increpitans et dicens, scilicet ea cura jam olim mortuos sollicitat ut nostris intersint negotiis. Proindeque, si ab apostolico excommunicaretur, in secundis haberet, qui quantum suæ conscientiæ interesset, non multum curaret si totis annis sacramentorum expers esset.”

This last passage is remarkable, as seeming to show that Rufus rather wondered that he was not excommunicated (see p. 611). And one wonders too, on reading this passage and some others (see p. 166), that no controversialist has ever claimed Rufus as a premature Protestant. Even Sir Richard Baker, a yet more loyal apologist than the author of the Gesta Regum, did not hit upon that.

William of Malmesbury then goes on to tell the story of the accused deer-stealers—​doubtless from Eadmer, to whom he so often refers—​and then gives some reasons for not enlarging further on the evil doings of Rufus. One is “quod non debeam defunctum meo premere judicio qui habet judicem præfata [sic], cui judicanti omnis attremit creatura.” The other is that it is better, for the sake of edification, to pass by evil doings, especially some kinds of evil doings; “Adulterium discitur dum narratur, et omne crimen faciendum menti male inculcatur, dum qualiter ab alio factum sit studiosius explicatur.”

Orderic is in this case less elaborate in his portrait-painting than William of Malmesbury. Some of his sayings bearing on the character of William Rufus have been already quoted. He sometimes brings him in, after his fashion, with some epithet, appropriate or quaint—“liberalis rex,” “turgidus rex,” “pomposus sceptriger,” and the like. But he twice gives something like a full-length picture. The first is at 680 A;

“In diebus illis lucerna veræ sanctitatis obscurius micabat pene cunctis in ordinibus, mundique principes cum subjectis agminibus inhærebant tenebrosis operibus. Guillelmus Rufus Albionis rex juvenis erat protervus et lascivus, quem nimis inhianter prosequebantur agmina populorum impudicis moribus. Imperiosus et audax atque militaris erat, et multitudine militum pompose tripudiabat. Militiæ titulis applaudebat, illisque propter fastum secularem admodum favebat. Pagenses contra milites defendere negligebat, quorum possessiones a suis tironibus et armigeris impune devastari permittebat. Tenacis memoriæ et ardentis ad bonum seu malum voluntatis erat. Terribilis furibus et latrunculis imminebat, pacemque serenam per subjectam regionem servari valenter cogebat. Omnes incolas regni sui aut illexit largitate, aut compressit virtute et terrore, ut nullus contra eum auderet aliquo modo mutire.”

This comes just before the pious and humane speech (see p. 223), in which Rufus proposes the first war in Normandy. Towards the end of the reign of Rufus (763 C), Orderic takes up his brush again;

“Guillelmus Ruffus, militia clarus, post mortem patris in Anglia regnavit, rebelles sibi fortiter virga justitiæ compressit, et xii. annis ac x. mensibus ad libitum suum omnes suæ ditioni subjugavit. Militibus et exteris largus erat, sed pauperes incolas regni sui nimis opprimebat, et illis violenter auferebat quæ prodigus advenis tribuebat. Multi sub ipso patris sui proceres obierunt, qui proavis suis extraneum jus bellicose vendicaverunt, pro quibus nonnullos degeneres in locis magnatorum restituit, et amplis pro adulationis merito datis honoribus sublimavit. Legitimam conjugem nunquam habuit, sed obscœnis fornicationibus et frequentibus mœchiis inexplebiliter inhæsit, flagitiisque pollutus exemplum turpis lasciviæ subjectis damnabiliter exhibuit.”

There is also an earlier passage (669 A) which sets forth how William kept the peace of the land. He records the surrender of Rochester, and adds;

“Omnium qui contra pacem enses acceperant nequam commotio compressa est. Nam iniqui et omnes malefactores, ut audaciam regis et fortitudinem viderunt, quia prædas et cædes aliaque facinora cum aviditate amplexati fuerant, contremuerunt, nec postea xii. annis quibus regnavit mutire ausi fuerunt. Ipse autem callide se habuit et vindictæ tempus opportunum exspectavit.”

This of course refers to disturbers on a larger scale than common robbers. But one law applied to all. King William kept down all evil-doers, save himself and his own company.

Henry of Huntingdon (vii. 22) mainly translates the Chronicle; but he adds some touches of his own, and strengthens some of the epithets, “invisus rex nequissimus et Deo et populo,” &c. His general picture is;

“Nec respirare potuit Anglia miserabiliter suffocata. Cum autem omnia raperent et subverterent qui regi famulabantur, ita ut adulteria violenter et impune committerent, quicquid antea nequitiæ pullulaverat in perfectum excrevit, et quicquid antea non fuerat his temporibus pullulavit.”

He makes also, improving the words of the Chronicler, an important addition;

“Quicquid Deo Deumque diligentibus displicebat hoc regi regemque diligentibus placebat. Nec luxuriæ scelus tacendum exercebant occulte, sed ex impudentia coram sole.”

This represents the English words (Chron. Petrib. 1100), “And þeah þe ic hit lang ylde, eall þet þe Gode wæs lað and rihtfulle mannan, eall þæt wæs gewunelic on þisan lande on his tyman.”

Somewhat later again the discerning William of Newburgh (i. 2) thus paints the Red King;

“Factum est ut … Willelmus in principio infirmius laboriosiusque imperaret, et ad conciliandos sibi animos subditorum modestior mitiorque appareret. At postquam, perdomitis hostibus et fratre mollius agente, roboratum est regnum ejus, exaltatum est illico cor ejus, apparuitque, succedentibus prosperis, qualis apud se latuisset dum premeretur adversis. Homo vecors et inconstans in omnibus viis suis; Deo indevotus et ecclesiæ gravis, nuptiarum spernens et passim lasciviens, opes regni vanissima effusione exhauriens, et eisdem deficientibus subditorum fortunas in hoc ipsum corradens. Homo typo immanissimæ superbiæ turgidus, et usque ad nauseam vel etiam derisionem doctrinæ evangelicæ, temporalis gloriæ fœdissima voluptate absorptus.”

This description, after all, is very much that of William of Malmesbury translated into less courtly language. The “magnanimitas” has now fully developed into “immanissima superbia.”

From putting together all these descriptions we get the portrait of William Rufus as one of those tyrants who keep a monopoly of tyranny for themselves and their immediate servants. He puts down other offenders, and strictly keeps the general peace of the land. His justice, in the technical sense, is strong, with of course the special exceptions hinted at by William of Malmesbury (see p. 143). There is no charge of cruelty in his own person; but he allows his immediate followers, his courtiers and mercenaries, to do any kind of wrong without punishment. He oppresses the nation at large by exactions for the pay of his mercenaries. He is withal a warlike and chivalrous king. We must take in the full sense of phrases like “militiam diligens,” which mean more than simply “warlike;” the technical sense of “miles” and “militia” often comes in. He was bountiful to his mercenaries, and generally lavish. He was renowned for a quality called “magnanimitas.” He was irreligious and blasphemous. Lastly, he and his immediate company were noticed for specially foul lives, of a kind, it would seem, out-doing the every-day vices of mankind.

Some of these points call for a more special notice. The “magnanimitas” of William of Malmesbury is not exactly “magnanimity” in the modern sense, which generally means a certain grand and stately kind of mercy. The magnanimous man nowadays chiefly shows his magnanimity, not so much in forgiving wrongs as in passing them by without notice; they have hardly moved him enough for forgiveness to come in. There is something approaching to this in the “magnanimitas Willelmi” (iv. 309) shown to the knight who unhorsed him before Saint Michael’s Mount (see p. 289). But the “præclara magnanimitas” (iv. 320) shown in his voyage to Touques is of another kind. Then it is that we have the wonderful comparison, or rather identification of William Rufus and Cæsar, of which more in a later note (see Note PP). William of Malmesbury clearly means the word for praise; and it is at least not meant for dispraise when Suger, at the beginning of his life of Lewis (Duchèsne, iv. 283), speaks of “egregie magnanimus rex Anglorum Guillelmus, magnanimioris Guillelmi regis filius Anglorum domitoris.” But the word seems to have reached a bad sense when (p. 302) Count Odo is called “tumultuosus, miræ magnanimitatis, caput sceleratorum” (see N. C. vol. v. p. 74). And it is surely a fault, though it seems to be recorded with admiration, that the first Percy who held Alnwick “fuit vir magnanimus, quia noluit injuriam pati ab aliquo sine gravi vindicta” (see the Chronicle of Alnwick in the second volume of the Archæological Institute at Newcastle, Appendix, p. v). And, as it is not exactly our “magnanimous,” neither is it exactly the μεγαλόψυχος of Aristotle (Eth. iv. 3)—ὁ μεγάλων αὐτὸν ἀξιῶν ἄξιος ὤν axios ôn—though it comes nearer to it. William of Malmesbury’s “magnanimus” is perhaps Aristotle’s μεγαλόψυχος verging towards the χαῦνος. The essence of the character is self-esteem, self-confidence; a step will change him from William’s “magnanimus” into Orderic’s “turgidus.” And this comes pretty much to the τετυφωμένος of the New Testament (2 Tim. iii. 4), who is not unlike William Rufus, only that he has at least a μόρφωσις εὐσεβείας. Here our version has “high-minded”—​the Revised Version has “puffed up”—​just as in the departed service for January 30 the slayers of Charles the First were called “high-minded” by those who certainly did not mean to praise them. This again is not quite the “magnanimitas” with which we have to do, which is still a virtue, though a dangerous one. Perhaps we may say that William the King really was “high-minded” in this sense, and that William the monk used a slightly ambiguous word, in order to pass him off for “high-minded” in the other sense.

The mercenary soldiers, the excesses wrought by them, and the extortion by which their pay and largesse were supplied, all come out in the words of the Chronicler that the land was vexed “mid here and mid ungylde.” That they were chiefly foreigners appears from Orderic’s phrase “advenæ,” which is doubtless opposed, not only to the “Angli naturales,” but to the companions of the Conqueror and their sons. The “advenæ” are opposed to the “incolæ,” whether the “incolæ” have been settled for one generation or twenty. So says William of Malmesbury (iv. 314);

“Excitabat ergo totum occidentem fama largitatis ejus, orientem usque pertendens; veniebant ad eum milites ex omni quæ citra montes est provincia, quos ipse profusissimis expensis munerabat; itaque cum defecisset quod daret, inops et exhaustus ad lucra convertit animum.”

Of their doings he tells us that, “soluta militari disciplina, curiales rusticorum substantias depascebantur, insumebant fortunas.” But the fullest account of their misdeeds is that given by Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 94), when he records the statute passed by Henry, when he and Anselm give their minds “qualiter aliquo modo mala quæ pauperes maxime deprimebant mitigarentur.”

“Tempore siquidem fratris sui regis hunc morem multitudo eorum qui curiam ejus sequebantur habebat, ut quæque pessumdarent, diriperent, et, nulla eos cohibente disciplina, totam terram per quam rex ibat devastarent. Accedebat his aliud malum; plurimi namque eorum sua malitia debriati dum reperta in hospitiis quæ invadebant, penitus absumere non valebant, ea aut ad forum per eosdem ipsos quorum erant pro suo lucro ferre et vendere, aut supposito igne cremare, aut si potus esset, lotis exinde equorum suorum pedibus, residuum illius per terram effundere, aut certe alio aliquo modo disperdere solebant. Quæ vero in patres-familias crudelia, quæ in uxores et filias eorum indecentia, fecerint, reminisci pudet. Has ob causas quiqui, præcognito regis adventu, sua habitacula fugiebant, sibi suisque quantum valebant in silvis vel aliis locis in quibus se tutari posse sperebant, consulentes.”

Here doubtless the misdeeds of courtiers, soldiers, and camp-followers, are all mixed together; but all were in the train of the King. In short, the march of the second William through his own kingdom must have done at least as much harm as the march of the first William when he was only seeking to make it his kingdom. All these horrors undoubtedly fell on the native English more heavily than on anybody else; only I see no reason to think that, when the houses of a small English and a small Norman landowner, or the houses of the English and Norman tenants of a great landowner, stood near together, the Norman house would be respected, while the English house was plundered. The plunderers would hardly touch the house of Thurkill of Warwick any more than that of Roger of Ivry; but, among their smaller neighbours, William and Matilda would hardly fare better than Godric and Godgifu. Indeed William of Malmesbury a little further on (iv. 319) speaks of the general oppression of Rufus as one that touched all classes, “Non pauperem tenuitas, non opulentum copia, tuebatur.”

The mercenaries of the days of Rufus forestall the mercenaries of the days of Stephen and John; but, unless we are to reckon a man of the rank of Walter Tirel, we do not get such a clear notion of any particular persons among them. The phrase of Orderic, in one of the passages already quoted (see above, p. 495), about the promotion of “degeneres” in the room of the nobles of the Conqueror’s day might make us think that some of them were put in high places. But no such instances seem to be recorded. And the word “restituit” might suggest the restoration of native Englishmen, a process which may really (see p. 88) have happened to some extent after the suppression of the rebellion in 1088. But “Ordericus Angligena” would never speak of the “Angli naturales” as “degeneres.”

The dress, manners, and morals of the court of William Rufus stand out clearly in several descriptions. “Tunc effeminati passim in orbe dominabantur” says Orderic (682 B, cf. 781 D), following the remark with stronger and plainer words. He is eloquent on their womanish fashion of dressing and wearing the hair;

“Ritus heroum abjiciebant, hortamenta sacerdotum deridebant, barbaricumque morem in habitu et vita tenebant. Nam capillos a vertice in frontem discriminabant, longos crines velut mulieres nutriebant et summopere curabant, prolixisque nimiumque strictis camisiis indui tunicisque gaudebant. Omne tempus quidam usurpabant, et extra legem Dei moremque patrium pro libitu suo ducebant…. In diebus istis veterum ritus pene totus novis adinventionibus commutatus est. Femineam mollitiem petulans juventus amplectitur, feminisque viri curiales in omni lascivia summopere adulantur…. Humum pulverulentam interularum et palliorum superfluo scirmate verrunt, longis latisque manicis ad omnia facienda manus operiunt; et his superfluitatibus onusti celeriter ambulare vel aliquid utiliter operari vix possunt. Sincipite scalciati sunt ut fures, occipite autem prolixas nutriunt comas ut meretrices…. Crispant crines calamistro. Caput velant vitta sine pileo. Vix aliquis militarium procedit in publicum capite discooperto legitimeque secundum apostoli præceptum tonso.”

Yet, with all this aping of female manners, the gallants of Rufus’ court did in one respect follow the law of masculine nature more closely than their immediate antecessores, either Norman or English;

“Nunc pene universi populares cerriti sunt et barbatuli, palam manifestantes specimine tali quod sordibus libidinis gaudent, ut fœtentes hirci.”

Bishop Serlo in the sermon (816 A, B) enlarges on this last comparison with much greater strength of language; and brings in another likeness, and a reason which certainly has an odd sound;

“Barbas suas radere devitant, ne pili suas in osculis amicas præcisi pungant, et setosi Saracenos magis se quam Christianos simulant.”

Seemingly the shaving of the ancient heroes of Normandy was but rare, perhaps weekly, like the bath of their Danish forefathers (see N. C. vol. i. p. 651).

Of the long hair, and what Anselm thought of it, we hear again in the course of our story (see p. 449). William of Malmesbury also (iv. 314) has his say about the courtiers;

“Tunc fluxus crinium, tunc luxus vestium, tunc usus calceorum cum arcuatis aculeis inventus; mollitie corporis certare cum feminis, gressum frangere, gestu soluto et latere nudo incedere, adolescentium specimen erat. Enerves, emolliti, quod nati fuerant inviti manebant, expugnatores alienæ pudicitiæ, prodigi suæ. Sequebantur curiam effeminatorum manus et ganearum greges.”

A various reading in a note in Sir T. D. Hardy’s edition is stronger still.

In the Life of Wulfstan (Anglia Sacra, ii. 254) William tells us of the strictness of that saint in this matter, in which he gave Bishop Serlo his model;

“Ille vitiosos, et præsertim eos qui crinem pascerent, insectari, quorum si qui sibi verticem supponerent, ipse suis manibus comam lascivientem secaret. Habebat ad hoc parvum cultellum, quo vel excrementa unguium vel sordes librorum purgare consueverat. Hoc cæsariei libabat primitias, injungens per obedientiam, ut capillorum ceterorum series ad eandem complanarentur concordiam. Si qui repugnandum putarent, eis palam exprobrare mollitiem, palam mala minari.”

But it is rather hard when William of Malmesbury forgets that all this belongs to the last years of Wulfstan’s episcopate and not to the first, and when he goes on to say that the fashion of wearing long hair led to a decay of military prowess in England, and thereby to the Norman Conquest. This can be paralleled only with those astounding notions of Matthew Paris about our beards which I have spoken of in N. C. vol. iv. p. 686.

As the practice could be put down for a moment only, whether by Wulfstan, Anselm, or Serlo, William has to come back to it again in the Historia Novella, i. 4, where he tells of a momentary reform in 1129. See Sir T. D. Hardy’s note.

Some of these descriptions carry us back to earlier times, as to the picture of the “molles” at Carthage down to Saint Augustine’s day (Civ. Dei, vii. 26), “qui usque in hesternum diem madidis capillis, facie dealbata, fluentibus membris, incessu femineo, per plateas vicosque Carthaginis etiam a populis unde turpiter viverent exigebant” (only the “molles” of the Red King’s day took what they would by force). Cf. Lucan, i. 164;

“Cultus gestare decoros
Vix nuribus rapuere mares.”

About the shoes much has been written, and the fashion, in one shape or another, seems to have lasted for several ages. Orderic is quite as wrathful at this seemingly harmless folly, as he is at the other evil fashions which seem more serious. But perhaps the force lies in the passage where he says (682 C), “Pedum articulis, ubi finis est corporis, colubrinarum similitudinem caudarum imponunt, quas velut scorpiones præ oculis suis prospiciunt.” The practice seems to have been looked on as a profane attempt to improve the image of God, an argument which surely told no less strongly against the practice of the ancient heroes when they shaved themselves. With Count Fulk (682 A) one cannot help feeling some sympathy. “Quia pedes habebat deformes, instituit sibi fieri longos et in summitate acutissimos subtolares, ita ut operiret pedes, et eorum celaret tubera quæ vulgo vocantur uniones.” Yet this is very gravely set down among his many evil deeds. Then seemingly another stage took place, when (682 B) “Robertus quidam nebulo in curia Rufi regis prolixas pigacias primus cepit implere stuppis, et hinc inde contorquere instar cornu arietis. Ob hoc ipse Cornardus cognominatus est.”

A number of hints in the above passages seem to show us that the vices of Rufus were literally the works of darkness, works which even his own more outspoken age shrank from dwelling on in detail. It is hardly a metaphor when Orderic says (680 A), “In diebus illis lucerna veræ sanctitatis obscurius micabat.” For, among the reforms of Henry the First (Will. Malms. v. 393), “effeminatos curia propellens, lucernarum usum noctibus in curia restituit, qui fuerat tempore fratris intermissus.” That Henry the First could be looked on as a moral reformer is the best sign of what he had to reform. Henry, with his crowd of mistresses and bastards, is described as loathing the profligacies (“obscœnitates,” a word which seems used in a special sense) of his brother (Will. Malms. iv. 314, and specially the wonderful passage, v. 412, as to the force of which there can be no doubt), and as making it his first business on his accession to clear the court of its foulest abuses. (Cf. Mrs. Hutchinson’s account of Charles the First’s reforms, i. 127.) We must remember that no mistresses or children of Rufus are mentioned or hinted at. Orderic’s phrase of “mœchus rex” is quite vague, perhaps euphemistic, and when the Welsh chronicler (Ann. Camb. 1100) says that “concubinis usus, sine liberis obiit,” he may be sheltering himself under an ambiguous word. In the Chronicle of Hugh of Flavigny (Pertz, viii. 496) is a strange legend of what the writer truly calls “inauditum seculis omnibus monstrum,” but one which could not have been devised except in the state of things which William of Malmesbury and Eadmer describe. After all (see Hen. Hunt. vii. 32; N. C. vol. v. p. 195), the reform wrought by Henry seems to have been only for a season. It is some slight comfort to hear from the mouth of Anselm, in his first protest to the King (Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 24), that the presence of Eastern vices in England was something new—“noviter in hac terram divulgatum.”

Of the blasphemies of William Rufus several instances have been given in the text. He had also, like everybody else of his time, his own special oath. As his father swore “par la resplendar Dé,” as other kings swore “per oculos Dei,” “per pedes Dei,” “per dentes Dei,” William Rufus swears (“sic enim jurabat,” says William of Malmesbury, iv. 309) “per vultum Dei,” or more commonly “per vultum de Luca.” Some of the older writers oddly mistook this for an oath by Saint Luke’s face. But the true meaning of the “vultus de Luca” was long ago explained by Ducange under the word “vultus,” where he refers to the then manuscript “Otia Imperialia” of Gervase of Tilbury, iii. 24, which will be found in Leibnitz’s collection of Brunswick writers, i. 967. The “vultus Lucanus” was held to have been made by Nicodemus from the impression of our Lord’s face taken on linen immediately after the crucifixion. This it was by which the Red King swore. In French the oath takes the form “Li vo de Luche” (Roman de Rou, line 14920). M. Charles de Rémusat (St. Anselme de Cantorbéry, 133) remarks, “Il se peut même que ce ne soit pas précisément celui de Lucques; car on appela Saint Voult-de-Lucques, vulgairement et par corruption Saint Godeln, tout crucifix habillé semblable à celui-là tel que ceux qu’on voyait jadis à Saint-Etienne-de-Sens, au Sépulcre à Paris.” But it is strange that Lappenberg (Geschichte von England, ii. 172), when telling the story of the Red King’s “magnanimitas” before Saint Michael’s Mount (see p. 289 and Appendix N), brings in the oath “per vultum de Luca” in Wace’s story, where it is not found, in the form “bei dem heiligen Antlitz zu Lucca,” and afterwards in William of Malmesbury’s story in the form “bei St. Lucca’s Antlitz.”

NOTE H. Vol. i. p. 168.

The Ecclesiastical Benefactions of William Rufus.

I think that an examination of the cases in which William Rufus has the credit of an ecclesiastical benefactor will show that in most of them, if not in all, there is a direct or implied reference to the memory of his father. In the case of Battle and Saint Stephen’s this is plain on the surface. Of his moveable gifts to Battle some have been mentioned already (see p. 18); he also gave (Chron. de Bello, 40) considerable gifts in real property, specially the royal manor of Bromham in Wiltshire, valued at forty pounds yearly. One year’s income then was to be got back by converting the young Jew back to Judaism (see p. 163). At the dedication of Battle he gave (Chron. de Bello, 41; Mon. Angl. iii. 246) a number of churches, “pro anima patris mei regis Willielmi, et matris et omnium parentum nostrorum qui ibi in bello ceciderunt, et aliorum omnium.” The local writer, who records none of his evil deeds, gives him this character (42);

“Tantopere memoratus rex eandem amabat, excolebat, tuebaturque ecclesiam, ejusque dignitates et regales consuetudines conservabat, ut quemadmodum patris ejus tempore nullus ei adeo adversari præsumeret, ipse quoque quotiens casu vicinia peteret, ex dilectionis abundantia sæpius eam revisere, fovere, et consolari solitus fuerat.”

As for Saint Stephen’s, there is a charter in Neustria Pia, 638, of William Rufus of 1088 granting various lands in England, among them Coker in Somerset and Wells in Norfolk, with the church of Corsham in Wiltshire and other tithes. The signatures show that it is very carelessly copied or printed; but among them is “Willelmus cancellarius,” that is, William Giffard, afterwards Bishop of Winchester; see vol. ii. p. 349. We read how “glorioso patri gloriosus filius Willelmus in regnum successit,” and how he made his gifts, “prædicti cœnobii utilitati prospiciens, habito procerum et religiosarum personarum Angliæ et Normanniæ consilio.”

The Waltham writer (De Inv. c. 22) has another way of looking at things. Of the Conqueror he speaks most respectfully, but adds;

“Successit ei filius Willelmus Ruphus cognomento, hæres quidem beneficiorum, sed degener morum, cui breves annos credimus indultos, quia concessis sibi beneficiis a Domino minus aptus nec ecclesiæ devotus sicut expediret, nec justitiæ strenuus executor, sed vir desideriorum eisque indulgens semper exstitit.”

The wrongs which Rufus did to Waltham are told with great fervour of declamation; and specially why he did them, namely,

“Vilia censens Anglorum instituta, nec eousque valitura quin eis eligeret ditare prædecessorum sepulturas, et ecclesiam Cadomensem ex rapina ornare, et spoliis Walthamensis ecclesiæ salubre remedium credens animarum patris et matris ibi quiescentium, si de alieno et quasi ab uno altari distracto aliud ornatur, et quasi munus gratum et valde preciosum alicui patri offerantur præcisa proprii membra filii.”

The words about English customs are meant, with whatever truth, to contrast William the Red with his father, who is praised for observing them. The plunder transferred from Waltham to Caen consisted of moveable wealth of every kind, among other things books, valued altogether at the incredible sum of 6666 pounds. The King afterwards repented, and, though the spoil stayed in the two minsters at Caen, he gave back, after the death of Bishop William of Durham (who is confounded with Walcher), that is in 1096 or later, during the vacancy, the lands which had been given to the bishopric (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 664). Dr. Stubbs (p. 50) prints a writ of William Rufus addressed “vicecomitibus suis et ministris [þegnas],” confirming to the canons of Waltham all “terras suas et consuetudines” which they held in his father’s time. It is a mere writ; but it must, as Dr. Stubbs suggests, be the occasion of the burst of joy in c. 23;

“Laudamus præsentem hunc Willelmum, qui ob reconciliandam sibi crucifixi gratiam quam offendisse plurimum non dubitamus in hujus perpetratione spoliationis, qui eam carta sua ecclesiæ confirmavit, et sub prædicto anathematis edicto, assistentibus archiepiscopis, episcopis, et universo clero, communiter roboravit.”

Dr. Stubbs (De Inv. 14) suggests, with great likelihood, that this robbery of the moveable wealth of Waltham was not done for the enriching of Saint Stephen’s, but that it was part of the general robbery of all churches to pay the price of Normandy in 1096 (see p. 358). And this is the more likely, because the 6666 pounds (= 10,000 marks) said to have been taken from Waltham was actually the sum paid to Robert. The Waltham writer has made some confusion in his reckoning. Still the general picture of the Red King robbing Waltham and enriching Caen holds good. For we have seen that he was a benefactor to Saint Stephen’s, and the writ seems to imply some meddling with the lands, as well as the treasures, of Waltham.

The curious story about the hospital of Saint Peter, afterwards Saint Leonard, at York, all about Æthelstan and the Culdees, and the grant of the thrave of corn which became memorable in the fifteenth century (see Lingard, iv. 163), will be found in the local history in the Monasticon, vii. 608. We read how the Conqueror confirmed everything, and then—

“Willelmus Rufus, filius Conquestoris prædicti, rex immediate succedens, fundavit seu mutavit situm dicti hospitalis in locum regium ubi nunc situatur,… et dedit et confirmavit dictas travas hospitali prædicto, sicut fecit pater ejus Conquestor.”

So Leland speaks of “Gulielmus junior, rex Angliæ, fundator hospitalis, qui etiam ecclesiolam ibidem construxit et S. Petro dedicavit.”

So the hospital of God’s House at Thetford is attributed to William Rufus, Mon. Angl. vii. 769. He is also said to have founded the nunnery of Armethwaite in Cumberland, and the foundation charter is printed in the Monasticon, iii. 270. But it is spurious on the face of it. The date given is January 6, 1089; yet Rufus is made to give grants in Carlisle which he did not yet possess, and to call himself “dux Normannorum.” He appears too in the Abingdon History, ii. 26, 284, as granting the church of Sutton to the abbey of Abingdon on the petition of Abbot Reginald. The grant has three somewhat characteristic witnesses, Robert Fitz-hamon, Robert the Chancellor, that is Robert Bloet, and our old friend Croc the Hunter.

He is also called a benefactor to the church of Rochester; but it is not clear that he actually gave anything of his own cost. In the local histories (Mon. Angl. i. 161, 162, 174) we read that Rufus “reddidit et restituit Lamhethe et dedit Hedenham ecclesiæ Roffæ;” “dedit Lamtheam [hetham] et Aedenham ad victum monachorum,” &c. In p. 163 is his writ granting the manor of Stone to the church of Saint Andrew and Bishop Gundulf; and in 173, 174 he grants Lambeth and Hedenham. But Henry’s charter in the same page speaks of Lambeth and Hedenham as gifts of Bishop Gundulf to the monks, and in p. 165 Stone is held by Ralph the son, and Osmund the son-in-law, of Gilbert, who becomes a monk at Rochester. The brothers find the King a harsh lord (“ambo regis exactionibus tantum fuerunt gravati ut vix amplius hoc possent ferre. Erant enim illis diebus consuetudines regis gravissimæ atque durissimæ per totum regnum Angliæ”); they therefore suggest that the Bishop should get the manor of the King, and they will hold it of him. “Quo audito, episcopus quam citius potuit regem impigre adiit, amicorum itaque apud regem usus auxilio, tandem obtinuit quod petiit; dedit ergo episcopus Willielmo regi, magni regis Willielmi filio, xv. libras denariorum et unam mulam quæ bene valebat c. solidos.” Ralph and Osmund become the Bishop’s men for the manor—​a very good case of round-about commendation—​but presently, by an exchange of lands between them and the Bishop, Stone becomes a direct possession of the see. We have also heard something about Hedenham in N. C. vol. iv. p. 366, and William of Malmesbury also (Gest. Pont. 137) speaks of it as bought by Gundulf—“ex suo villam coemptam.” Lambeth may have been a free gift. It afterwards, as all the world knows, passed by exchange to the see of Canterbury.

There is a very curious document in the Monasticon (ii. 497) from the cartulary of Tavistock in which Rufus—“inclitæ recordationis secundus Guillielmus”—​confirms in 1096 to the abbey a manor, Wlurintun, which some said belonged to the crown. The grant of course takes the form of a gift. But the only thing which Rufus really seems to have given was an ivory knife, a symbol which is also met with in other cases;

“Sciant omnes quod rex per cultellum eburneum quod in manu tenuit et abbati porrexit hoc donum peregit apud curiam … qui quidem cultellus jacet in feretro sancti Rumoni.”

The witnesses are Bishop Walkelin of Winchester, Bishop John of Bath, and Abbot Thurstan of Glastonbury. The demand had been made before commissioners sent in Lent to Devonshire, Cornwall, and Exeter—​the local capital stands apart—“ad investiganda regalia placita.” They were Bishop Walkelin, “Randulfus capellanus” (Flambard), William Capra (see him in Domesday, 110, as Chievre; he is Capra in Exon), and “Hardinus Belnoldi filius.” Is not “Belnoldus,” a strange name, a miswriting for Ednodus? See N. C. vol. iv. p. 756.

Lastly, we have elsewhere seen (see N. C. iv. 411) that William granted the manor of Bermondsey to the foundation of the Englishman Ælfwine Child. See the charter in Monasticon, v. 100. It is witnessed by the founder Ælfwine, also, between the bishops and Eudo dapifer, by “Johannes de Sumbresetta.” Is this the Bishop of Bath, not yet used to his new title?

A crowd of writs securing churches in rights already possessed, as well as simple confirmations of the grants of others, do not bear upon the matter. And we must not forget that he showed a degree of tenderness to the monks of Durham during the banishment of their bishop (see p. 299) which he failed to show to other monks. Still, in any case, the gifts of William Rufus make a poor show between the gifts of the founder of Battle and those of the founder of Reading.

NOTE I. Vol. i. p. 169.

Chivalry.

I refer to the remarkable passage of Sir Francis Palgrave, Normandy and England, iv. 438;

“Are we not told that ‘the Spirit of Chivalry was the parent and offspring of the Crusades?’ again that in ‘the accomplished character of the Crusader we discover all the virtues of a perfect Knight, the true Spirit of Chivalry, which inspired the generous sentiments and social offices of man?’—​the Historian might reply in the words of a great Teacher, whose voice already resounds in History—​‘I confess that if I were called upon to name what Spirit of evil predominantly deserved the name of Antichrist, I should name the Spirit of Chivalry: the more detestable for the very guise of the Archangel ruined, which has made it so seductive to the most generous spirits—​but to me so hateful, because it is in direct opposition to the impartial justice of the Gospel, and its comprehensive feeling of equal brotherhood, and because it so fostered a sense of honour rather than a sense of duty.’… Take the huge folio of the Gesta Dei per Francos—​search it boldly and honestly, turn over its fifteen hundred pages, examine their contents according to the rules of moral evidence, the praises the Writers bestow, and more than their praises, their blame; their commentaries upon deeds of cruelty, and more than their commentaries, their silence—​and try how much you can extract which will justify any one of the general positions which the popular enthusiasts for Chivalry have maintained.”

The extract is from a letter of Arnold to Archdeacon Hare in 1829 (Life and Correspondence, i. 255). A note adds;

“‘Chivalry,’ or (as he used more frequently to call the element in the middle ages which he thus condemned) ‘feudality,’ is especially Keltic and barbarian—​incompatible with the highest virtue of which man is capable, and the last at which he arrives—​a sense of justice. It sets up the personal allegiance to the chief above allegiance to God and law.”

Nothing can be better; only it is not quite clear what Arnold meant by “Keltic;” continental chivalry must be carefully distinguished from devotion to the chief of the clan, though there is much analogy between the two feelings. But, as I have said elsewhere (N. C. vol. v. p. 483), chivalry is Norman rather than English and French rather than Norman; so in that sense it may be called “Keltic.”

Sir Francis Palgrave goes on to discuss one of the stories of the boasted generosity of Bayard. Like some others, it merely comes to this, that he did not act a part which would have been singularly shameful.

About chivalry and other kindred matters, I had my own say in an article on the Law of Honour in the Fortnightly Review, December 1876. But I must decline to pledge myself to Sir F. Palgrave’s condemnation of the crusades. All that he says is perfectly true of the crimes and follies in detail with which the crusades were disgraced. And in those days it would have been hard to carry out a crusade without a large measure of those crimes and follies. And this might be in itself a fair argument, though not one which the age would have understood, against undertaking any crusade at all. But I must hold that the general idea of the crusade itself was something high above all chivalry. I must hold that all the crusades before the fourth, whatever we say of the way in which they were carried out, were in themselves fully justifiable, both in morality and in policy. Surely, in all that bears on this matter, it is Cohen rather than Palgrave that speaks. With all his learning and acuteness, with all his lofty and Christian morality, his deep and wide-reaching sympathy with right and hatred of wrong in every shape, my illustrious predecessor in Norman and English history was still, as a man of the East, unable thoroughly to throw himself into the Western side of a great struggle between East and West.

NOTE K. Vol. i. p. 196.

The Purchase of the Côtentin by the Ætheling Henry.

I have told this part of my story as I find it in Orderic, whose account seems to me to be probable, and to hang well together, while it is confirmed, not indeed in every detail, but in its leading outlines, by the account in the Continuation of William of Jumièges; that is, by Robert of Torigny. But William of Malmesbury and Wace give quite different versions. That of William is found, not in the part of his work where he records the events of the reign of William Rufus, but at the beginning of his fifth book (v. 392), where he introduces the reign of Henry with a sketch of his earlier life. While the rebellion of 1088 is going on in England, and while Robert is waiting—​waiting, our historian says, for a favourable wind—​to go to help his supporters there, Henry, by the Duke’s order, goes away into Britanny (“Henricus in Britanniam ejus jussu abscesserat”). Meanwhile Robert spends on his mercenaries the money which the Conqueror had left to Henry, which is here cut down from 5000 pounds to 3000 marks—​a mistake partly arising from a confusion between the whole sum left to Henry and the sum paid for the Côtentin (“Ille, occasione aucupata, omnem illam pecuniarum vim testamento patris adolescentulo legatam, quæ erat trium millium marcarum, in stipendiarios suos absumpsit”). Then follows a very confused story, how Henry came back and passed over the wrong in silence (“Henricus reversus, licet forsitan ægre tulisset, taciturna præteriit industria”); the reason given being the restoration of peace in England (“enimvero, nuntiata pacis compositione in Anglia, deposita militia ferias armis dedere”). He then goes away into some quarter where the Duke had given or promised him lands, but he is at the same time entrusted with the keeping of the castle of Rouen (“comes in sua, junior in ea quæ frater suus dederat vel promiserat, discessit; namque et in acceptum promissa referebat, custodiens turrim Rotomagi in ejus fidelitatem.” Or can these last words mean that Henry kept the castle of Rouen in pledge till the promised lands were actually put into his hands?). Presently, on the accusation of some very bad people—​if the Bishop of Bayeux was one of them, he is not mentioned by name—​Henry is unjustly kept in ward for half a year in this same tower of Rouen (“delatione pessimorum cessit in adversum fidelitas, et nulla sua culpa in ipso eodem loco Henricus libere custoditus est, ne servatorum diligentiam [who are the “servatores”?] effugio luderet”). Then he goes by William’s invitation to England, and enters the King’s service; there William keeps him for a year, making promises which he never fulfils. Robert meanwhile sends a message promising redress, on the strength of which Henry goes back to Normandy (“post medium annum laxatus, fratri Willelmo invitanti serviturum se obtulit; at ille, nihilo modestius ephebum remunerans, plus anno inanibus sponsionibus agentem distulit. Quapropter, Roberto emendationem facti per nuntios promittente, Normanniam venit”). There he was exposed to intrigues on the part of both his brothers, which are very darkly described; but he escapes from all danger, and, by seizing Avranches and some other castles, compels Robert to make peace with him (“amborum fratrum expertus insidias; nam et rex, pro repulsa iratus, ut retineretur frustra mandarat; et comes, accusatorum lenociniis mutatus, voluntatem verterat ut blanditiis attrectatum non ita facile dimitteret. Verum ille, Dei providentia et sagaci sua diligentia cuncta evadens pericula, occupatione Abrincarum et quorundam castellorum coegit fratrem libenter paci manum dedere”). Then comes the invasion of Normandy by William, the sedition at Rouen, the death of Conan by Henry’s own hand (see p. 257). Robert then ungratefully drives Henry from the city (“parum hic labor apud Robertum valuit, virum animi mobilis, qui statim ad ingratitudinem flexus, bene meritum urbe cedere coegit”). Then, without any explanation, comes the siege of Saint Michael’s Mount, which he had already described elsewhere (iv. 308). Of Domfront and Saint James we hear nothing.

There is in this account a greater attempt at chronological precision than is usual with William of Malmesbury, especially when he tells a story out of its chronological place. And the dates do not hang badly together. Henry is put in ward late in 1088 for six months. On his release he goes to England for a year, comes back, and seizes Avranches. This brings us well into 1090, the year of the vicarious invasion of Normandy by Rufus, of the sedition at Rouen, and of the death of Conan. But these dates do not agree with the more exact chronology of Orderic. According to him (672 D), Henry went to England in the summer of 1088, and came back to Normandy in the autumn of the same year (“In æstate, postquam certus rumor de Rofensis deditione citra mare personuit … transfretavit … deinde in auctumno regi valefecit”). He is at once imprisoned, and is released, as far as one can see, about February 1089. At least Orderic mentions his release as happening about the same time as the death of Durand Abbot of Troarn, on February 3 in that year (676 B, C). Moreover the order of events, both with regard to the voyage and imprisonment, is altogether changed, and the whole story is told in a different way from that of Orderic. The story about Robert taking Henry’s money contradicts the express statement of Orderic (659 D) that Henry had put his money in safe keeping; it contradicts too the implied statements of Orderic and all the other writers who describe the cession of the Côtentin to Henry as a sale, or at least as a pledge, as something in either case by which Henry paid down money and received land. And it may be hard to reconcile William of Malmesbury’s narrative here with his own statement just before (v. 391), that Henry was “paterna benedictione et materna hæreditate, simul et multiplicibus thesauris, nixus.” Nor has William of Malmesbury any distinct mention of the Côtentin, or of any other possessions of Henry, till after his release from prison. And then he represents Henry as obtaining them by force, a story which most likely comes from some confusion with the later events, mentioned in p. 286. The visit to Britanny on the part of Henry which comes earlier in the story is most likely his visit to Britanny after the siege of Saint Michael’s Mount (see p. 294) moved out of its place. The whole narrative is dark and perplexed throughout, in marked contrast to the clear and careful statement of Orderic. And among the points on which William differs from Orderic the only one on which he is at all borne out by any trustworthy authority is, as we shall presently see, that by which he makes Rouen the place of Henry’s imprisonment. Yet there are one or two points on which we might almost think that William had some narrative like that of Orderic before him. Though Robert gets possession of Henry’s money in different ways in the two stories, yet in both he takes it for the same purpose, that of paying his mercenaries. And there is a certain likeness in the pictures which they both give of Henry as exposed to the enmity of both his brothers at once. It is possible that William’s version may really be an unsuccessful attempt to put together the detached facts of Orderic’s story, not necessarily of Orderic’s text.

Wace tells the story in a yet more confused way than William of Malmesbury, and with the events strangely transposed throughout. But he gives one or two details, bringing in persons of whom we hear elsewhere, which are likely enough to be authentic. When Robert is planning the invasion of England, he wants money, and for that end, pledges (14505–14520), not grants or sells, the Côtentin to Henry.

“Henris li a l’aveir presté,

Si come il li out demandé:
Costentin en gage reçut,
E tant lunges aveir le dut
Ke li dus li soen li rendist,
E del tot son gréant en fist.”

He adds that Richard of Reviers, or Redvers, left Robert’s service for that of Henry, in answer to a special request made by Henry to his brother. This is likely enough. Richard of Redvers appears once in Domesday (Dorset 83), and his pedigree is set forth in a special note by Mr. Stapleton (ii. cclxix), who corrects the belief (see Prevost on Wace, ii. 307; Ellis, i. 377) that he was a son of Baldwin of Exeter (see Norman Conquest, iv. 161). He appears in Orderic (689 C) and the Continuation of William of Jumièges (viii. 4), along with Earl Hugh of Chester, as one of Henry’s supporters in the Côtentin, and we see throughout that he was an important person in Henry’s reign (see vol. ii. p. 362. Cf. Orderic, 783 D, 833 D; Mon. Angl. v. 105, in the account of Saint James’ priory near Exeter). The words in which the Duke bids Richard leave his service for that of Henry (14534–14545) are curious, and throw light on the many expressions in Domesday about the grant or invasio of a freeman and the like (see N. C. iv. 723; v. 751;

“Jo ne sai ke Richart pensa,

Mais semblant fist ke li pesa
K’il deveit del duc tot partir
E son frère Henris servir.
Richart, dist li dus, si fereiz,
Henris mon frere servireiz,
Vostre fieu è vos li otrei;
N’est pas meinz gentil hom de mei;
Sis hoem seiez; jel’ vos comant;
Servez le bien d’ore en avant:
Vos n’arez jà de li hontage,
Nos somes andui d’un parage.”

We may compare the story in Orderic, 814 B, C, where Duke Robert grants Count William of Evreux to his brother (“ei Guellelmum consulem Ebroarum cum comitatu suo et omnibus sibi subjectis concessit”), and where the Count is amazed at finding himself likened to a horse or an ox (“præclarus comes, ut se quasi equum vel bovem dandum audivit”). The thoughts of Richard, which Wace did not know, may have been much the same as those of Count William.

Robert then goes on his invasion of England, but leaves off on William’s engaging to pay him five thousand pounds yearly (14548–14871). This, I need hardly say, is pure fiction; or rather it is Robert’s expedition in the reign of Henry carried back to the reign of Rufus. On coming back to Normandy, Robert quarrels with Henry, it is not easy to see why, while William is also angry with him on account of the help in money given by him to Robert. Robert then takes possession of the Côtentin, and does not repay Henry his money (14874–14887);

“Robert out l’aveir despendu,

E Costentin a retenu,
Ne Henris Costentin n’en out,
Ne ses deniers aveir ne pout.”

Henry then defends himself on Saint Michael’s Mount, and the account of the siege follows. Henry’s voyage to England, and his imprisonment, which is said to be at Rouen, are placed later still (14754–14759).

On the other hand, the short account given by Robert of Torigny in the Continuation of William of Jumièges (viii. 2) is much more nearly in agreement with Orderic. He records the bequest of five thousand pounds to Henry, with the addition that it was in English money (N. C. vol. iv. p. 854). He then mentions the cession of the Côtentin to Henry, but he is uncertain whether to call it a grant, or, with Wace, a pledge (“Robertus frater suus dedit illi comitatum Constantiensem, vel, ut alii volunt, invadiavit”). He says nothing about Henry’s voyage to England in 1088; but he mentions the slanders against Henry and his consequent imprisonment by Robert. Here comes in his only point of difference from Orderic. Orderic (672 D, see above, p. 199) makes Henry come back from England in company with Robert of Bellême; they are both seized on the sea-shore, and are shut up in different prisons;

“Quidam malevoli discordiæ satores eos anticipaverunt, et, falsa veris immiscentes, Roberto duci denuntiaverunt quod … cum rege Rufo essent pacificati, et ad ducis damnum sacramenti etiam obligatione confœderati. Dux igitur … cum Baiocensi episcopo consilium iniit et præfatos optimates præoccupavit. Nam antequam aliquid molirentur, quum securi ad littus maris de navibus egrederentur, valida militum manu missa eos comprehendit, vinculis coarctavit, et unum Baiocis aliumque Noilleio sub manu Baiocensis tyranni custodiæ mancipavit.”

Robert of Torigny, on the other hand, like Wace, makes Rouen the place of arrest; but he does not go on to say with William of Malmesbury that it was the place of imprisonment (“Inventis quibusdam vilibus occasionibus, per malorum tamen hominum suggestiones, ipsum nihil tale meditantem apud Rothomagum capiens, quod dederat indecenter extorsit”). These last words of course refer to the Côtentin, and imply an occupation of it by Robert during Henry’s imprisonment. Later events follow in much the same order as in Orderic.

The author of the Brevis Relatio, who wrote in Henry’s reign, must have drawn from the same sources as the Continuator, as the words of his short account (11) are to some extent the same. He gives a clear and terse summary of the fortunes of Henry during the reign of Rufus, which is almost his only mention of that reign. The words which at present concern us are these; “Henricus remansit in Normannia cum Roberto fratre suo, qui dedit ei quamdam terram in Normannia, sed non diutius inde gaudium habuit [“Non diutius inde gavisus est,” says the Continuator]. Non multo enim tempore, inventis quibusdam vilibus occasionibus, ei illam abstulit.”

The agreement between Orderic and Robert of Torigny is the more valuable, because they clearly write from independent sources, and, as we shall see presently, fill up gaps in one another. William of Malmesbury brings in his story incidentally, and has made confusions. Wace, as is not at all wonderful, is less accurate at this part of his narrative than he was at an earlier stage. The expedition of the Conqueror was his main subject, and on that he evidently bestowed the greatest care, not only in gathering information from all quarters, but very often in sifting it. He is now dealing with the kind of time which most men in all ages know least about, the times a little before and a little after his own birth. I must confess, for my own part, that there is no part of English history in which I feel so little at home as in the administration of the Earl of Liverpool.

Anyhow William of Newburgh speaks with great truth when, after (i. 2) sketching the character of William and Robert, he adds; “Porro Henricus frater junior, laudabilem præferens indolem, duris et infidis fratribus militabat.”

NOTE L. Vol. i. p. 257.

The Death of Conan.

The death of Conan suggests the death of Eadric (see N. C. vol. i. pp. 415, 740); only, while the story of Eadric’s death has grown into several mythical forms, we have only two versions of the death of Conan. These are given us by Orderic (689) and by William of Malmesbury (v. 392). Both of these are contemporary writers in the sense of having been born at the time—​Orderic was about fourteen—​though neither could have written his account till a good many years after. Orderic’s account is remarkably clear and circumstantial; and, if the sharp interchang of sentences between Henry and Conan is open to suspicion of another kind, it is not open to the same kind of suspicion which attaches to rhetorical speeches in Orderic or anywhere else. No one but Henry himself could have told the story in the first instance, and stories of this kind, coming under the head of personal anecdote, commonly get improved as they pass from mouth to mouth. But there is no reason to suspect any invention on the part of Orderic himself, which in a long speech we always may suspect. With these prudent allowances, we may surely accept the tale as it stands in Orderic. The version of William of Malmesbury reads like a rather careless summary of some account to the same general effect as Orderic, but with some differences of detail. But the dramatic effect of Orderic’s dialogue has wholly passed away from William’s abridgement.

I will mention the chief differences between the two accounts. According to Orderic, Duke Robert was all this time on the other side of the Seine; William, who knows nothing about his flight, keeps him still at Rouen. Here Orderic’s version is clearly to be preferred. The story of Robert’s flight is either true, or else direct invention. I do not mean an invention of Orderic, but an invention of Robert’s enemies at the time. But if William had never heard that story, he would conceive the Duke to be at Rouen as a matter of course. William then makes Robert wish to put Conan in prison; but Henry demands that he should be given over to himself (“Conanum quendam, proditionis apud comitem insimulatum, quem ille vinculis irretire volebat, arbitratus nihil calamitosius posse inferri misero quam ut exosum spiritum in ergastulo traheret—​hunc ergo Conanum Henricus suæ curæ servatum iri postulavit”). Robert here seems to wish for Conan’s imprisonment, not out of the merciful feeling which Orderic attributes to him when he comes back to the city, but rather as deeming imprisonment worse than death. In either case Henry goes on the principle that “stone dead hath no fellow.”

In the summary of the dialogue, William brings in one or two points which are not in Orderic. As Henry shows the view to Conan, he promises in mockery that all shall be his; “sua per ironiam omnia futura pronuntians.” This differs altogether from “quam pulcram tibi patriam conatus es subjicere.” One is half tempted to see in William’s version a touch of legend worked in from the Gospels.

Instead of Henry’s characteristic oath by the soul of his mother, which must surely be genuine, William puts into his mouth a discourse on the duty of the vassal, and his punishment if faithless, which seems a little too long for the time and place; “Nullam vitæ moram deberi traditori: quoquo modo alieni hominis posse tolerari injurias, illius vero qui tibi juratus fecerit hominium, nullo modo posse differri supplicium si fuerit probatus perfidiæ.”

From the narrative of Orderic, one would certainly infer that Henry and Conan were alone together in the tower, Henry doubtless armed and Conan unarmed. William of Malmesbury gives Henry companions who help to throw Conan down; “comitibus qui secum aderant pariter impellentibus.” The exact spot also seems differently conceived by the two writers. William of Malmesbury makes Conan fall into the river; “inopinum ex propugnaculo deturbans in subjectam Sequanam præcipitavit.” This seems quite inconsistent with Orderic, whose words (690 D) are;

“Contemptis elegi supplicationibus, ipsum ambabus manibus impulit, et per fenestram turris deorsum præcipitavit. Qui miserabili casu in momento confractus est, et antequam solum attingeret mortuus est. Deinde cadaver illius jumenti caudæ innexum est, et per omnes Rothomagi vicos ad terrendos desertores turpiter pertractum est.”

From this it seems clear that Conan fell on dry ground. And though the river, before the quays were made, certainly came nearer to the walls of the castle than it now does to their site, one can hardly fancy that it came so close to the foot of the great tower that Conan could actually fall into the water. William too conceives those concerned—​whether two or more—​as standing on the top of the tower, whence Conan is thrust down from a battlement (“propugnaculum”) to which he clings. Orderic seems to conceive him as pushed out of a window (“fenestra”) in one of the upper rooms “solaria”) of the tower. It is possible however that by “fenestra” Orderic may mean the embrasure of a battlement. There is not so much difference between the two things as might seem at first sight. When the towers (see Viollet-le-Duc’s Military Architecture, passim) were covered with roofs fitting down on the battlements, the embrasure was in fact a window. In no case must we fancy Henry and Conan standing together in the open air on the top of a flat-roofed tower.

NOTE M. Vol. i. p. 274.

The Siege of Courcy.

The siege of Courcy by Duke Robert (Ord. Vit. 692) is remarkable for some picturesque details, which are interesting in themselves, and throw light on the times, though they do not directly concern the history of William Rufus. I was at Courcy in 1875; but I cannot find any notes on the castle. As far as I remember, it does not stand on any remarkable height, and does not contain among its remains any marked features of the eleventh century. There is however at Courcy a remarkably fine church of the twelfth.

Among the allies who came to the help of the besieged were several French knights, two of whom bore epithets which show that, in the days of the chivalrous King, we are getting near to the times of chivalry. Among the defenders of Courcy were the White Knight and the Red Knight;

“Ad conflictus istorum convenerunt Mathæus comes de Bellomonte et Guillelmus de Garenna, aliique plures, ut in tali gymnasio suas ostentarent probitates. Ibi Tedbaldus Gualeranni de Britolio filius et Guido Rubicundus occisi sunt. Quorum prior, quia cornipes et omnia indumenta ejus candida erant, Candidus Eques appellabatur. Sequens quoque Rubeus, quia rubeis opertus erat, cognominabatur.”

Of these persons, the younger William of Warren, son of the elder William and Gundrada, elder brother of the Reginald whom we have met at Rouen, belongs to our home circle. Count Matthew of the French Beaumont in the modern department of Oise—​to be distinguished alike from our Norman and our Cenomannian Beaumont—​a kinsman of Hugh of Grantmesnil’s wife (Ord. Vit. 691 D), appears again twice in Orderic, 836 B, 854 B, the second time at the battle of Noyon. Both times he appears in company with his neighbour Burchard of Montmorency. Guy the Red Knight appears in the former passage as an intended father-in-law of the future King Lewis;

“In juventute sua Ludovicus filiam Guidonis Rubei comitis de Rupeforti desponsavit, et hereditario jure competentem comitatum subjugare sibi sategit. Capreosam et Montem Leherici, et Bethilcurtem aliaque oppida obsedit, sed multis nobilibus illi fortiter obstantibus non obtinuit, præsertim quia Lucianam virginem quam desponsaverat Guiscardo de Belloloco donaverat.”

This Rochefort is in the department of Seine and Oise, between Montfort l’Amaury and Montl’hery. The redness of its Count and the whiteness of Theobald land us in quite another state of things from the personal whiteness and redness of Fulk the Red, Wulfward the White, and others. We seem to be in the fourteenth century rather than in the eleventh. But we must remember that at the battle of Noyon, twenty-eight years later, the French knights at least had armorial bearings (Ord. Vit. 855 B, C; see N. C. v. 189). All these things are French to begin with; they spread from France into Normandy, and from Normandy into England.

In this siege we meet with an instance, of which I shall have to speak again (see Note FF), of the wooden tower employed against a fortified place; not a moving tower, it would seem, but one of those of which we have so often heard. Yet it is spoken of as “ingens machina quam berfredum vocitant” (Ord. Vit. 692 C, cf. 878 C). So in Will. Malms. iv. 369, “pro lignorum penuria turris non magna, in modum ædificiorum facta; Berfreid appellant, quod fastigium murorum æquaret.” This is the beffroi, whose English form of belfry has got quite another use. It was made at Christmas, seemingly by order of Robert of Bellême. But one day, when the arch-enemy was driven back, a daring esquire, a kind of land Kanarês, climbed into it, and set it on fire (“Justo Dei judicio machina combusta est, quæ tyrannico jussu in diebus sanctæ nativitatis Domini proterve fabricata est;” 693 A). We have a story something like this in the legend of our own Hereward (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 472). The castle being newly built, they had not been able to build an oven inside it (“pro acceleratione obsidionis in novo munimento construere furnum oppidanis fas non fuerat”). They had therefore to make use of one which stood outside the castle, commanded by the beffroi (“Clibanus extra munitionem inter machinam oppidique portam stabat, ibique panificus [surely Eurysakês by the Porta Maggiore would have liked so sounding a title] ad subsidium inclusorum panes coquebat”). The beffroi then was not brought up immediately against the wall. There was therefore much fighting over the loaves, and many men were killed at this particular point. In one day’s fight twenty men were killed and many wounded. These last had a scruple; “de panibus emptis cruore suo non gustaverunt.” Notwithstanding the beffroi and the fighting, Duke Robert kept very bad watch; “In conspectu obsidentium commilitones obsessorum in castellum quotidie intrabant, et armis ac alimentis non curante duce socios ne deficerent confortabantur.”

The bishop of the diocese, Gerard of Seez (1082–1091), came and took up his quarters in the neighbourhood, in the abbey of Saint Peter-on-Dive, and tried to bring about peace (“ut dissidentes parrochianos suos pacificaret”); but in vain. A boy of noble birth in the Bishop’s service (“puer quidam qui præsuli ministrabat; idem puer Ricardus de Guaspreia, filius Sevoldi, vocitabatur”), who is afterwards described as “clericus” and “imberbis clericus,” rides about the camp in boyish fashion (“dum per exercitum puerili more ludens equitabat”). The boy’s family are among those who had to defend themselves against the devil of Bellême (“cujus parentela contra Robertum sese jamdudum defendere totis viribus nitebatur”). So, when young Richard appears in the camp, Robert pushes him from his horse, puts him in prison, takes the horse to himself, and threatens his master the Bishop (“Robertus injuriam ei [Gerardo] maximam fecit, eumque minis contristavit. Nam puerum … ejectum de equo comprehendit et in carcere trusit, sibique cornipedem retentavit”). The Bishop threatens the whole army with interdict, unless his beardless clerk is restored, which is done after a few days. The Bishop by this time is sick; he goes to Seez and dies, January 23, 1091, in the same week, according to Orderic (693 B), in which William Rufus crossed the sea. His successor was the more famous Serlo, who so vigorously sheared the locks of the Lion of Justice and his court.

The boy of high birth serving in the bishop’s household, and counted as belonging to the clerical order—​he may even have held preferment, as “pueri canonici” were not unknown—​is worth notice. The incredible tale told by Giraldus of William Longchamp (iv. 423) at least witnesses to the existence of “pueri nobiles ad mensam ministrantes” in a bishop’s court.

Lastly, it must not be forgotten that it was during the siege of Courcy, on the first day of the year 1091 (“in capite Januarii”), that a priest of the diocese of Lisieux, Walchelm by name, saw that wonderful vision of souls in purgatorial suffering, including many of his personal acquaintance and several respectable prelates, for Bishop Hugh of Lisieux and Abbot Mainer of Saint Evroul (see N. C. vol. iii. p. 383, vol. iv. p. 655) were there also, which is told so graphically by Orderic (693 C). A rationalistic mind may be tempted to see in the supernatural procession another of the endless forms of the Wild Huntsman; but a Defoe-like feeling of reality is given to the picture, when he reads that Walchelm thought that they were the following of Robert of Bellême going to besiege Courcy. He had gone to visit a sick parishioner at a great distance; “unde dum solus rediret, et longe ab hominum habitatione remotus iret, ingentem strepitum velut maximi exercitus cœpit audire, et familiam Roberti Belesmensis putavit esse, quæ festinaret Curceium obsidere.”

NOTE N. Vol. i. p. 275.

The Treaty of 1091.

On the whole, though with some hesitation, I accept Caen as the place of the treaty between William Rufus and Robert. Orderic (693 B) places the meeting of the brothers at Rouen; “Duo fratres Rothomagum pacifice convenerunt, et in unum congregati, abolitis prioribus querimoniis, pacificati sunt.” The meeting at Caen and the mediation of the King of the French come from the Continuation of William of Jumièges (viii. 3). The passage stands in full thus;

“Facta est tandem inter eos apud Cadomum, ut diximus, adminiculante Philippo rege Francorum, qui in auxilium ducis contra Willelmum regem apud oppidum Auci ingenti Anglorum et Normannorum exercitu tunc morantem venerat, qualiscumque concordia, et quantum ad ducem Robertum spectat probrosa atque damnosa.”

The story is here told in a hurried and inverted way, as the whole tale is from the beginning of the chapter; but there is nothing strictly to be called inaccurate in the story. It may be that the mention of Philip now is merely a confusion with his former appearance at Eu; but an intervention of Philip is not unlikely in itself; Caen too as the place of meeting is less obvious than Rouen, and so far the statement in favour of it is to be preferred. But the point is not of much importance, and the evidence is fairly open to doubt.

In any case William of Malmesbury (iv. 307, 308) is mistaken in speaking of the peace as agreed and sworn to before William crossed into Normandy. He gives a picture of the anarchy of Normandy which is true enough; only he seems to conceive it too much after the pattern of the later anarchy of England. King Philip (see the passage quoted in p. 239) has got his money and has gone back to his banquet;

“Ita bello intestino diu laboravit Normannia, modo illis, modo istis, vincentibus; proceres utriusque furorem incitabant, homines levissimi, in neutra parte fidem habentes.”

Now in the days of Stephen the anarchy at least took the form of a war between rival claimants of the crown. Men really fought for their own hands; but they at least professed to fight for King or Empress. But the special characteristic of the Norman anarchy is that everybody is already fighting with everybody else, and that the invasion of the country makes no difference, except so far as it adds a new element of confusion. Ralph of Conches goes over to William only because Robert fails to defend him against a local enemy; William’s name is not mentioned at all in the war of Courcy, till his actual coming frightens both sides alike. William of Malmesbury misses the special point of the whole story, namely that the strife between William and Robert stands quite distinct from the local struggles which still went on all over the country, except when the two got intermingled at particular points. He then adds;

“Pauci quibus sanius consilium, consulentes suis commodis quod utrobique possessiones haberent, mediatores pacis fuere; ut comiti rex Cinomannis adquireret, comes regi castella quæ habebat et Fiscannum cœnobium concederet. Juratum est hoc pactum, et ab utrorumque hominibus sacramento firmatum. Nec multo post rex mare transiit, ut fidem promissorum expleret.”

Florence (1091) puts the case much better;

“Mense Februario rex Willelmus junior Normanniam petiit, ut eam fratri suo Rotberto abriperet; sed dum ibi moraretur, pax inter eos facta est.”

It will be seen that William of Malmesbury gives only a very imperfect statement of the terms of the treaty. They are nowhere so fully and clearly given as in our own Chronicle; only the English writer is not quite so exact with regard to the territorial cessions as those writers who wrote in Normandy. The brothers meet—​the place is not mentioned—​and agree on the terms, which are given in words which sound like the actual words of the treaty, which was likely enough to be set down in an English as well as a Latin copy. They stand thus;

“þæt se eorl him to handan let Uescam and þone eorldom æt Ou, and Kiæresburh. And þærto eacan þes cynges men sæclæs beon moston on þam castelan þe hi ær þes eorles unþances begiten hæfdon. And se cyng him ongean þa Manige behet þa ær heora fæder gewann, and þa fram þam eorle gebogen wæs gebygle to donne, and eall þæt his fæder þær begeondan hæfde, butan þam þe he þam cynge þa geunnen hæfde; and þæt ealle þa þe on Englelande for þam eorle æror heora land forluron hit on þisum sehte habban sceoldan and se eorl on Englelande eallswa mycel swa on heora forewarde wæs.”

The emphatic references to his father are preeminently characteristic of the Red King. We seem to hear his very words, the words of the dutiful son, granting, not without some sarcasm, to the rebel, the heritage of the father against whom he had rebelled. This emphatic feature disappears in the other versions, even in the abridged Latin version of Florence. To the list of places in Normandy to be given up he adds “abbatiam in monte sancti Michaelis sitam,” and the last words, which are certainly not very clear, he translates “et tantum terræ quantum conventionis inter eos fuerat comiti daret.” This can only refer to something which William was to grant to Robert as a free gift. Domesday shows that there were no older English possessions of Robert to be given back to him. See N. C. vol. iv. p. 629.

Besides William of Malmesbury, only the Chronicler and Florence mention the stipulation about Maine. This is again a sign that in the Chronicle we are dealing with an actual document. For, as nothing came of that clause, no part of the treaty was more likely to be forgotten. William of Malmesbury seems to have caught up the first words of the treaty, and to have got no further. Thus Maine gets in his text an undue prominence, which may possibly account for a statement of his which follows, and which has nothing at all like it anywhere else. The King and the Duke are going to attack Maine the very first thing after the conclusion of the treaty; only they are hindered by the campaign against Henry; “Ergo uterque dux ingentes moliebantur conatus ut Cinomannis invaderent; sed obstitit jam paratis jamque profecturis Henrici fratris minoris animositas.”

It may be needful to point out that the Chronicle really does mention Maine; for Mr. Earle seems to have been the first of its editors to find out the fact. Gibson, Ingram, and Thorpe all print “þa manige,” with a small m, and explain it “the many,” “the many castles,” “multa castella.” But, if there were no other reason, the words which answer to it in Florence, “Cenomannicam vero provinciam,” are enough to show that we should read with Mr. Earle “þa Manige,” the county of Maine. The French idiom, whatever may be its origin, which, as is always the case in Wace, adds the article to Le Mans, Le Maine, is here found in English. So it is in 1099, 1110, 1111, 1112. The earlier entry in 1073, “þæt land Mans,” is less clear.

Those who wrote in Normandy say nothing about Maine; but they more distinctly define the cessions in Normandy itself. Thus Robert of Torigny in his Continuation (Will. Gem. viii. 3);

“Quidquid rex Willelmus in Normannia occupaverat, per infidelitatem hominum ducis, qui eidem regi suas munitiones tradiderant, quas suis militibus ipse commiserat ut inde fratrem suum infestarent, impune permissus est habere. Munitiones illæ quas hoc modo tenebat fuerunt, Fiscannum, oppidum Auci quod Willelmus comes Aucensis cum reliquis suis firmitatibus illi tradiderat; similiter Stephanus comes de Albamarla, filius Odonis comitis de Campania, Willielmi autem regis Anglorum senioris ex sorore nepos, fecerat, et alii plures ultra Sequanam habitantes.”

The words in Italics are the writer’s backward way of recording the events of 1090 among the clauses of the treaty of 1091. In his own chronicle (1091) Robert of Torigny has nothing to say, except “ut castra illa quæ frater ab eo acquisierat regi remanerent.” This not very clear account comes from Henry of Huntingdon (vii. 2, p. 215 ed. Arnold), with the omission of an important word. But though Robert mentions no particular places in his summary of the treaty, yet, in copying Henry of Huntingdon’s account of the places occupied by William’s troops in 1090, to Saint Valery which alone are mentioned by Henry, he adds, not only Eu like our authorities, but also Fécamp. The Chronicle, as we have seen, mentions Fécamp among the places which were to be ceded to William in 1091; no one else mentions it among the places which were occupied in 1090.

Orderic has three references to the cessions; but he nowhere mentions either Fécamp or Saint Michael’s Mount. In his first account (693 B, C) he says only “Robertus dux … ei [regi] Aucensem comitatum et Albamarlam, totamque terram Gerardi de Gornaco et Radulfi de Conchis, cum omnibus municipiis eorum eisque subjectorum concessit.” In 697 C he says only “Robertus dux magnam partem Normanniæ Guillelmo regi concessit.”

It is the Chronicle again which seems to give us the real text of the clauses about the succession;

“And gif se eorl forðferde butan sunu be rihtre ǽwe, wære se cyng yrfenuma of ealles Normandig. Be þisre sylfan forewarde, gif se cyng swulte, wære se eorl yrfenuma ealles Englalandes.”

It is perhaps worth notice that these words taken strictly do not contemplate the possibility of William Rufus leaving children. This is slightly altered in Florence;

“Si comes absque filio legali in matrimonio genito moreretur, hæres ejus esset rex; modoque per omnia simili, si regi contigisset mori, hæres illius fieret comes.”

Henry of Huntingdon (vii. 2, p. 215 ed. Arnold), who, as we have seen, is followed with some changes by Robert of Torigny, seems to abridge the account in the Chronicle. After speaking of the events of 1090, he adds;

“Anno vero sequenti rex sequens eos concordiam cum fratre suo fecit. Eo tamen pacto ut castra illa quæ frater ab illo injuria acquisierat, regi remanerent, rex autem adjuvaret eum ad omnia quæ pater suus habuerat conquirenda. Statutum etiam, si quis eorum moreretur prior altero sine filio, quod alter fieret hæres illius.”

A good deal of the diplomatic exactness of the Chronicle is lost here, and it is not easy to see what castles Robert had taken from William, unjustly or otherwise. Robert of Torigny hardly mends the matter by leaving out the word “injuria.”

Henry is not mentioned in any account of the treaty; but his possessions come by implication under the head of the lands which William was to win back for Robert, with the exception of Cherbourg and Saint Michael’s Mount—​if we are right in adding the Mount on the authority of Florence—​which William was to keep for himself. The shameful treatment of Henry by his brothers naturally calls forth a good deal of sympathy on the part of some of our writers, though they do not always bring out the state of the case very clearly. They speak of his brothers refusing him a share in his father’s dominions, rather than of their depriving him of the possessions which one of themselves had sold to him. Hear for instance the author of the Brevis Relatio (11), writing in Henry’s own reign;

“Concordiam adinvicem fecerunt Willelmus secundus rex Angliæ et Robertus comes Normanniæ, et quum fratrem suum Henricum debuissent adjuvare, eique providere ut honorabiliter inter illos sicut frater eorum et filius regis vivere posset, non hoc fecerunt, sed de tota terra patris sui expellere conati sunt.”

The same words are used by Robert of Torigny, in the Continuation of William of Jumièges, viii. 3.

William of Malmesbury (iv. 308), in a passage which follows that which has been already cited about Maine, after the words “Henrici fratris minoris animositas,” adds, “qui frenderet propter fratrum avaritiam, quod uterque possessiones paternas dividerent, et se omnium pene expertem non erubescerent.”

The treaty takes a very strange form in Matthew Paris, Hist. Angl. i. 39. The brothers are reconciled by wise friends, who say to them, “Absit, ne Franci fraternas acies, alternaque regna profanis decertata odiis, derideant subsannantes.” And the reason is given; “Franci enim eo tempore multa super ducem occupaverant.” This hardly means the Vexin; it is more likely to be a confused version of Philip’s intervention.

The only writers who mention the driving out of Eadgar are the Chronicler and Florence. The former brings it into connexion with the treaty, without seeming to make it exactly part of the treaty itself. Having given the clauses of the treaty, and mentioned its confirmation by the oaths on both sides, he adds; “Onmang þisum sæhte wearð Eadgar æþeling belandod of þam þe se eorl him æror þær to handa gelæten hæfde.” The measure seems to have had something to do with the treaty without being one of its clauses. Were such things as secret or additional articles, or agreements which were to go for nothing because they were not written on the same paper as other agreements, known to so early a stage of diplomacy?

The Chronicler does not mention the siege of Saint Michael’s Mount; but, immediately after the confiscation of Eadgar’s lands in Normandy, he mentions his voyage to Scotland and the events which followed on it. Florence puts his account of the siege of the Mount directly after the treaty and the oaths of the twenty-four barons. He then goes on;

“At rex cum obsidionis diutinæ pertæsus fuisset, impacatus recessit, et non multo post Eadgarum clitonem honore, quem ei comes dederat, privavit et de Normannia expulit.” And a little way on he speaks of “clito Eadgarus, quem rex de Normannia expulerat.” These expressions make the treatment of Eadgar more distinctly William’s own act than one would infer from the words of the Chronicle, and they might suggest that Eadgar’s Norman estates lay within the districts which were ceded to William. But it may only mean that Robert sent Eadgar away on William’s demand.

NOTE O. Vol. i. p. 285.

The Siege of Saint Michael’s Mount.

The primary account of the siege which Henry endured at the hands of his brothers is the short one in Orderic, which I have chiefly followed in the text. There are still shorter notices in Florence of Worcester and in the Continuation of William of Jumièges. The shortest of all is in the local Annals;

“1090. Obsessio montis hujus, quæ facta est a Guillelmo Rufo rege Anglorum et a Roberto comite Normannorum, Henrico fratre eorum in hoc monte incluso.”

There is no objection to this date, as the writer seemingly begins the year at Easter. The accession of Harold is placed under 1065.

The account in Florence is noteworthy, as seeming to supply a reason for the attack made by the two older brothers upon the younger. After the treaty between William and Robert, he goes on;

“Interim germanus illorum Heinricus montem Sancti Michaelis, ipsius loci monachis quibusdam illum adjuvantibus, cum omnibus militibus quos habere potuit, intravit, regisque erram vastavit, et ejus homines quosdam captivavit, quosdam exspoliavit. Eapropter rex et comes, exercitu congregato, per totam quadragesimam montem obsederunt, et frequenter cum eo prœlium commiserunt, et homines et equos nonnullos perdiderunt. At rex, cum obsidionis diutinæ pertæsus fuisset, impacatus recessit.”

This account is true in a sense; it gives the purely military history, except that the words “impacatus recessit” would hardly suggest Henry’s honourable surrender. But no one would find out from Florence’s version that Henry occupied the Mount simply as the last spot left to him in his dominions. As a matter of warfare, it doubtless may be said that William and Robert besieged Henry because he occupied the Mount, and because he was, as we can well believe, driven to harry the neighbouring lands. But he occupied the Mount and harried the lands only because he was driven out of the rest of his county. That Florence misunderstood the matter is plain from his use of the words “regis terra,” which cannot apply to any land which could be reached from the Mount.

Wace has a long account, very confused in its chronology and in the sequence of events; but I have trusted to his local knowledge for some topographical details. William of Malmesbury twice refers to the siege. He tells it under the reign of Rufus (iv. 308); but seemingly wholly for the purpose of bringing in two famous anecdotes about William and Robert. The second time is in his sketch of Henry’s early life (v. 392). In the first account he at least puts the siege in its right place after the Treaty of 1091. In the second he seems, strangely enough, to make the siege immediately follow the death of Conan, or at least to follow Henry’s driving out of Rouen (see above, p. 512), which he places just after Conan’s death;

“Illud fuit tempus quo, ut supra lectum est, apud montem sancti Michaelis ambobus fratribus Henricus pro sui salute simul et gloria restitit.”

And, as Orderic (see p. 294) is careful to insist on the wholesome effect which the season of exile which followed had on Henry’s character, so William insists on the wholesome effect of the siege itself;

“Ita, cum utrique germano fuerit fidelis et efficax, illi nullis adolescentem possessionibus dignati, ad majorem prudentiam ævi processu penuria victualium informabant.”

The Red King’s way of schooling a brother was not quite so harsh as that by which Gideon taught the men of Succoth; but it is essentially of the same kind.

Nothing can be more confused than the way in which Wace brings in the story (see Pluquet’s note, ii. 310). I have already (see above, p. 514) mentioned the course of his story up to that point. Robert, without any help from William, has deprived Henry of the Côtentin, while William is angry with Henry for having paid the purchase-money to Robert. Henry then goes to the Mount (14588);

“Por sei vengier se mist el munt

U li muignes Saint Michiel sunt.”

Then, having no place of shelter anywhere, he gathers a large company of nobles and others who serve him willingly (14598);

“N’alout mie eschariement,

Asez menout od li grant gent
Des plus nobles è des gentilz,
Mena od li freres è filz;
E tuit volentiers le servient,
Kar grant espeir en li aveient.”

He thinks of seeking a lasting shelter in Britanny; but he is entertained by Earl Hugh at Avranches, with whom he has much talk, and who one day counsels him to occupy the Mount and to make a castle of the monastery. This is without any reference to the lines just quoted in which Henry is made to have been there already. But the speech of the Earl is well conceived (14624);

“Li munt Saint Michiel li mostra:

Veiz tu, dist-il, cele roche là;
Bel lieu è forte roche i a,
Ke jor ke noit ja ne faldra;
Flo de mer montant l’avirone,
Ki à cel lieu grant force done.”

Henry will do well to get together Bretons and mercenaries, and hold the rock against the Normans (14625);

“Bretuns mandasse è soldéiers,

Ki gaaignassent volentiers,
Mult méisse gent en grant esfrei;
Jà Normant n’éust paiz vers mei.”

Henry adopts Hugh’s advice, rides off at once, occupies the Mount, and sends a defiance to Robert (14646);

“Maiz Henris est sempres monté,

Et el munt est sempres alé.
Del munt Saint Michiel guerréia,
Robert son frere desfia.
Ja mez, ço dist, sa paiz n’areit,
Se son aveir ne li rendeit.”

Henry ravages the neighbouring lands (see above, p. 529, and p. 286); then the King and the Duke come to besiege him, without any hint how William came to be in Normandy, or how the two brothers, who were enemies less than a hundred lines before, have now come to be allies.

It is plain that the striking event of the occupation of the Mount of which he would hear a good deal in his childhood, if it did not actually come within his own childish days, was strong in Wace’s imagination, but that he took very little pains to fit the tale into its right place in the history. It is specially hard to reconcile his picture of the action of Earl Hugh with the facts of the case. There is perhaps no literal contradiction. Hugh, while giving up his castles to Robert (see p. 284), may have given Henry secret advice, and the words of Robert of Torigny in the Continuation of William of Jumièges (see p. 323) may be taken as implying that Henry looked on him as having been on the whole faithful to him. But Wace could hardly have conceived Hugh as giving up the castle of Avranches to Robert.

The ending of the siege is still more thoroughly misconceived than the beginning. The brothers are all reconciled; Henry gets the Côtentin back again (14740);

“De l’acordement fu la fin

K’à Henri remest Costentin,
K’en paiz l’éust tant è tenist,
Ke li Dus li suen li rendist.”

William goes back to England, whereas we know (see p. 293) that he stayed in Normandy for six months. Robert goes to Rouen. Henry pays off his mercenaries—​out of what funds we are not told, and the other accounts do not speak of his followers as mercenaries. He then follows Robert to Rouen (14750);

“Henris sis soldeiers paia,

As uns pramist, as uns dona
Al terme k’il out establi;
A li Duc a Roem sui.”

There the Duke imprisons Henry; that is, the imprisonment which happened long before (see p. 199) is moved out of its place. But Wace cannot tell why he was imprisoned, or how it was that he was released and made his way to France (14754);

“Ne voil avant conter ne dire

Par kel coroz ne par kele ire
Henris fu poiz a Roem pris,
E en la tur à garder mis;
Ne coment il fu delivrez,
E de la terre congéez,
E coment il ala el Rei,
Ki en France l’out poiz od sei.”

In opposition to all this, Orderic’s account of the siege, its beginning and its ending, is perfectly straightforward, and hangs well together. He alone puts everything in its place, and gives an intelligible reason for everything. Robert of Torigny, in the Continuation (viii. 3), preserves the fact that Henry surrendered on honourable terms, but he is in rather too great a hurry to get him to Domfront;

“Unde accidit ut quadam vice ipsum obsidione cingerent in monte sancti Michaelis. Sed illis ibidem incassum diu laborantibus, et ad ultimum inter se dissidentibus, comes Henricus inde libere exiens oppidum munitissimum nomine Danfrontem sagacitate cujusdam indigenæ suscepit.”

The words in Italics may perhaps refer to the story about the water; but William and Robert were in any case sure to quarrel about something. And it was quite in William’s character to get tired of a fifteen days’ siege, as he is represented both here and by Florence (see p. 292); only Florence is not justified in saying that at once “impacatus rediit.” William of Malmesbury too (iv. 310) tells his story about the water, and then adds;

“Ita rex, deridens mansueti hominis ingenium, resolvit prælium; infectaque re quam intenderat, quod eum Scottorum et Walensium tumultus vocabant, in regnum se cum ambobus fratribus recepit.”

On these last words, which are so startling at first sight, I have spoken in the next Note.

The two anecdotes of William and Robert seem, in William of Malmesbury’s first account (iv. 308), to be his chief or only reason for mentioning the siege at all;

“In ea obsidione præcluum specimen morum in rege et comite apparuit; in altero mansuetudinis, in altero magnanimitatis. Utriusque exempli notas pro legentium notitia affigam.”

Then come the two stories “De Magnanimitate Willelmi” and “De Mansuetudine comitis Roberti,” which I have told in the text after him. Both of them are also told by Wace; that is, if the story “De Magnanimitate Willelmi” is really the same story as the corresponding story in Wace. Every detail is different; but both alike set before us the self-confidence of the Red King. In this version he is unhorsed and wounded; but he keeps hold of his saddle, and fights on foot with his sword (14672);

“E li reis i fa abatuz,

De plusors lances fu féruz.
Li peitral del cheval rompi
E li dui cengles altresi;
Od sa sele li reis chaï,
Maiz bien la tint, ne la perdi,
Delivre fu, en piez sailli;
Od s’espée se desfendi,
Unkes la sele ne leissa,
Bien la tint è bien la garda.”

We hear nothing of any discourse with Henry’s followers, nothing of any dealings with the knight who had unhorsed him. But he calls to his vassals, Normans and English, who do not appear in the other story, but who in this press to his help, and, after many blows, take him off safely;

“Tant cria chevaliers léals,

Ke la presse vint des vassals,
E li Normanz le secorurent
E li Engleiz ki od li furent,
Maiz maint grant colp unt recéu
Ainz k’il l’éussent secoru.
Mené l’en unt à salveté.”

Then his own men, not those of Henry, talk merrily with him about his defence of his saddle. He answers in the like strain, telling them that it is a shame if a man cannot keep his own, and that it would have grieved him if any Breton had boasted that he had carried off his saddle;

“Poiz unt li reis asez gabé

De la sele k’il desfendeit,
E des granz colps ke il soffreit.
E li reis diseit en riant
K’il debveit estre al suen garant;
Hunte est del suen perdre è guerpir;
Tant com l’en le pot garantir:
Pesast li ke Brez s’en vantast
De la sele k’il emportast.”

If this is the same story as that in William of Malmesbury, it is a very inferior version of it. Lappenberg (Geschichte von England, ii. 172) takes the two for distinct stories and tells them separately. (See above, p. 503.) But it is strange that his translator (p. 232) should tell both stories after his original, should give the reference to Wace, and should then, at the end of William’s story, remark, giving the same reference again—“Wace gives a version of the occurrence totally different from the above as related by Malmesbury.”

The “Normanz” and “Engleiz” of Wace appear in Lappenberg as “Normannen und Angelsachsen.” This involves the old question about the force of the word “Angli,” which is very hard to answer at this particular stage. In a narrative actually written in 1091, I should certainly understand the words as Lappenberg does, and should see in the “Engleiz” men of the type of Tokig son of Wiggod and Robert son of Godwine. But, as Wace, if he were already born in 1091, did not write till many years after, it is more likely that we ought to take the words “Normanz” and “Engleiz” in the sense which they took in the course of Henry the First’s reign. That is, by “Normanz” we should understand those only who were “natione Normanni,” and by “Engleiz” all who were “natione Angligenæ,” even though many of them were “genere Normanni.” See N. C. vol. v. p. 828.

Whatever we make of the relations between the two stories, the reference to the “Brez” in Wace’s version has a very genuine ring. That name came much more home in Jersey, or even at Bayeux, than it did in Wiltshire.

The story “De Mansuetudine comitis Roberti” connects itself with the fact stated by Orderic—​who does not tell either of the anecdotes—​that the besieged really did suffer for want of water (see p. 292). William of Malmesbury, whom I have followed in the text, tells the story straightforwardly enough from that point of view. Wace does casually speak of the water, but his main thought is of wine (see p. 291). Henry thus states his case to Robert (14704);

“Quant Henris out lunges soffert,

Soef manda al Duc Robert,
Ke de vin aveit desirier,
D’altre chose n’aveit mestier.”

Robert then sends him the tun of wine, of the best they have in the host, and throws in a truce to take water daily seemingly of his own free will (14712);

“E tot li jor a otréié

E par trièves doné congié,
Ke cil del munt ewe préissent,
E li munt d’ewe garnessissent,
U k’il volsissent la préissent
Séurement, rien ne cremissent.
Dunc veissez servanz errer,
Et à veissels ewe aporter.”

The King is angry at all this, and sets forth his principles of warfare (14729);

“Il les déust fere afamer

E il les faisoit abevrer.”

He is inclined to give up the siege (“Del siege volt par mal torner”); but he listens to Robert’s excuse;

“Torné me fust à félonie,

E joféisse vilanie
De li néer beivre è viande,
Quant il méisme le demande.”

Here we have nothing of the argument in William of Malmesbury, an argument essentially the same as that which is so thoroughly in place in the mouth of the wife of Intaphernes in Herodotus (iii. 119), and so thoroughly out of place in the mouth of the Antigonê of Sophoklês (892). But the words are very like those which we shall find Wace putting into the mouth of Robert at a later time. (See 15456, and vol. ii. p. 406.)

NOTE P. Vol. i. p. 293.

The Adventures of Henry after the Surrender of Saint Michael’s Mount.

That Henry was in possession of Domfront in 1094 is certain from the witness of the Chronicle under that year; “Se cyng W. sende æfter his broðer Heanrige, se wæs on þam castele æt Damfront.” But we have no hint when he got possession of it. Florence has no mention of Henry between his account of the siege of Saint Michael’s Mount—​from which William “impacatus recessit”—​and his election as king. William of Malmesbury (see p. 293) brings him to England with William and Robert in August 1091. As I have already said, such is William of Malmesbury’s carelessness of chronology that I should not have ventured to accept this statement on his showing only. But it has a piece of the very strongest corroborative evidence in the form of the Durham charter of which I have spoken in the text (see p. 305). This is the one which is printed at p. xxii of the volume of the Surtees Society called “Historiæ Dunelmensis Scriptores Tres,” a document which has every sign of genuineness. It is a grant by Bishop William of the churches of Northallerton, Sigston, and Brunton to the convent of Durham, and confirms the picture given by Simeon (see p. 508) of William Rufus as a benefactor to Durham;

“Hæc omnia, præcipiente domino meo Willielmo rege, domini mei magni regis Willielmi filio, feci, qui Alvertonescire sancto Cuthberto et episcopis ejus in perpetuum dedit. Has vero ecclesias monachis sancto Cuthberto servituris pro salute animæ suæ dedit, et mihi donare præcepit.”

I have shown that the deed must belong to a time after the pacification with Malcolm, but before Christmas, 1091. At no other time could we have had the signatures of Robert and Eadgar, nor probably that of Duncan. And the signature of Henry shows that William of Malmesbury is right, and that Henry was in England at this time. There was then some assembly held in the autumn of 1091, and that seemingly at Durham or somewhere in the North. Its object would probably be to confirm the treaty with Malcolm. Indeed, except a few bishops and abbots, most of the men who sign would naturally be in the camp. The signatures are in two columns. That to the right contains the names of Bishop William, King William (signum Willielmi regis secundi), his brothers (signum Rodberti fratris regis, signum Henrici fratris regis), Robert Bloet (Roberti cancellarii regis cognomento Bloet), Duncan (Dunechani filii regis Malcolmi), Earl Roger, Randolf Flambard (Ranulphi thessarii—​thesaurarii?), three local priests, Merewine (Mervini), Eglaf (Ælavi; in another document, p. xx, we get the dwelling-places of these priests, Eglaf of Bethlington and Merewine of Chester—​that is of course Chester-le-Street), and Orm, Robert “dispensator regis” (see p. 331), Siward Barn, and Arnold of Percy. The left-hand column contains Archbishop Thomas, the Bishops Remigius of Lincoln, Osmund of Salisbury, and John of Bath, the Abbots Guy of Saint Augustine’s, Baldwin of Saint Eadmund’s, and Stephen of Saint Mary’s at York, Earl Hugh, Philip son of Earl Roger, Earl Robert, “signum Eadgari clitonis,” Roger Bigod, “signum Morealis vicecomitis,” William Peverel, “signum Gileberti dapiferi.”

This list, though singular and startling, is perfectly possible. This cannot be said of some of those in the same volume. Thus in the document just before this one, John Bishop of Bath is made to sign in the time of the Conqueror, and in that which follows (p. xxvii), Lanfranc and Abbot Ælfsige are made to sign in 1093.

The evidence of this charter, combined with the notice in William of Malmesbury, seems conclusive. Henry was in England during part of 1091. We therefore cannot accept the obvious meaning of Orderic’s story which makes Henry a wanderer from the time of the surrender of the Mount till his reception at Domfront. In this version he leaves the Mount, and spends two years, or somewhat less, in a very poor case (697 B);

“Per Britanniam transiit, Britonibus, qui sibi solummodo adminiculum contulerant, gratias reddidit, et confines postmodum Francos expetiit. In pago Vilcassino nobilis exsul non plenis duobus annis commoratus, diversa hospitia quæsivit. Uno tantum milite unoque clerico cum tribus armigeris contentus pauperem vitam exegit.”

In another place (698 C) we find a date given to the occupation of Domfront, and a duration assigned to Henry’s wanderings, which at first sight seems not to agree with this version;

“Anno ab incarnatione Domini MXCII. Indictione XV. Henricus Guillelmi regis filius Danfrontem oppidum, auxilio Dei suffragioque amicorum, obtinuit, et inde fortiter hereditarium jus calumniari sategit. Nam idem, dum esset junior, non ut frater a fratribus habitus est, sed magis ut externus, exterorum, id est Francorum et Britonum, auxilia quærere coactus est, et quinque annis diversorum eventuum motibus admodum fatigatus est. Tandem Danfrontani nutu Dei ærumnis tam præclari exsulis compassi sunt, et ipsum ad se de Gallia accersitum per Harecherium honorifice susceperunt, et, excusso Roberti de Belesmo, a quo diu graviter oppressi fuerant, dominio, Henricum sibi principem constituerunt. Ille vero contra Robertum Normanniæ comitem viriliter arma sumpsit, incendiis et rapinis expulsionis suæ injuriam vindicavit, multosque cepit et carceri mancipavit.”

The five years mentioned in the above extract must be meant to take in all Henry’s adventures, lucky and unlucky, from the death of his father in 1087 to his settlement at Domfront in 1092. From his surrender of the Mount in February 1091 to his settlement at Domfront Orderic makes, as we have seen, somewhat less than two years; that is, Henry came to Domfront quite at the end of 1092.

In 706 C (under 1094, see p. 319) he says;

“Henricus Guillelmi Magni regis Anglorum filius Danfrontem possidebat, et super Robertum [de Belesmo], cui præfatum castellum abstulerat, imo super fratres suos regem et ducem guerram faciebat, a quibus extorris de cespite paterno expulsus fuerat.”

In 722 D he says;

“Henricus frater ducis Danfrontem fortissimum castrum possidebat, et magnam partem Neustriæ sibi favore vel armis subegerat, fratrique suo ad libitum suum, nec aliter, obsecundabat.”

This is in 1095, and it is meant as a summary of Henry’s course up to that year. Lastly, the promise of Henry never to give up Domfront to any other master comes quite incidentally in Orderic’s account (788 B) of the treaty between Robert and Henry in 1101 (see vol. ii. p. 413). By that treaty Henry ceded to Robert everything that he held in Normandy “præter Danfrontem.” The reason for the exception is added;

“Solum Danfrontem castrum sibi retinuit, quia Danfrontanis, quando illum intromiserunt, jurejurando pepigerat quod numquam eos de manu sua projiceret nec leges eorum vel consuetudines mutaret.”

This is Orderic’s account, in which I see no difficulty at all in accepting all that concerns Domfront. Henry was in England late in 1091; but he may have been in France or anywhere else late in 1092. And Henry may have had a time of distress and wandering in the Vexin, either between March and August 1091 or at any time in 1092. Where Orderic goes wrong, it is through forgetting Henry’s visit to England in 1091, which was of no importance to his story. He therefore naturally spreads the season of wandering in the Vexin over the whole time from the surrender of the Mount early in 1091 to the occupation of Domfront late in 1092.

Robert of Torigny, in the Continuation of William of Jumièges (viii. 3), is in a still greater hurry to get Henry to Domfront (see above, p. 532). The passage, as far as it concerns the relations between Henry and Domfront, runs thus;

“Comes Henricus, inde [from the Mount] libere exiens, oppidum munitissimum nomine Danfrontem sagacitate cujusdam indigenæ suscepit. Indignabatur enim prædictus indigena, utpote vir nobilis et dives, oppressiones amplius perpeti quas Robertus de Belismo, homo ferox et mentis inhumanæ, sibi et aliis convicaneis inferebat, qui tunc temporis illud castrum possidebat. Quod tanta diligentia Henricus exinde custodivit ut usque ad terminum vitæ illius in suo dominio habuerit.”

The “indigena nobilis et dives” of this account is of course the same as the Harecherius of Orderic. And the statement that Henry kept Domfront all his days agrees with Orderic’s statement about his promise. Wace (14762–14773) gives us some, perhaps legendary, details of the way in which Henry was brought from Paris—​from the French Vexin, one would have thought, from Orderic’s account—​to Domfront; but he is clearly wrong in making any Robert, whether the Duke or him of Bellême, turn Henry out of Domfront;

“Ne coment Haschier le trova

A Paris donc il l’amena,
Ki se fist un des oilz péier,
Ke l’en nel’ péust encercier,
Ne voil dire par kel savoir
Haschier li fist Danfront aveir,
Ne coment il fu recéuz
Quant il fu à Danfront venuz,
Ne coment il cunquist Passeiz
E le toli as Belesmeiz;
Ne coment Robert le cunquist,
E de Danfront partir le fist.”

The covering of one of Henry’s eyes with pitch by way of disguise may be believed or not; but the “savoir” of Haschier answers to the “sagacitas” of the “indigena nobilis et dives.” Passeiz, Passais (see Pluquet, Wace, ii. 319; Neustria Pia, p. 423), is the district which contains Domfront and the abbey of Lonlay, a district which lay in the ancient diocese of Le Mans, but which was added to Normandy by William’s conquest.

This name “Haschier” or “Harecherius” is supposed by Le Prévost (Pluquet, ii. 319) to be the same name as “Achardus,” the name of one of the witnesses to the foundation charter of Lonlay abbey in 1026. He signs as “Achardus dives, miles de Donnifronte.” This document is contained in an inspeximus of Peter, Count of Alençon (1361–1377), contained in an inspeximus of Henry, King of France and England about 1423 (Neustria Pia, p. 424). The founder is the old William of Bellême, father of William Talvas and grandfather of Mabel. There is a certain interest in a document relating to Domfront and Lonlay before they became Norman, when lands there could be granted “usque in Normaniæ commarchiam.” Among the signatures are those of the founder’s brother Avesgaud Bishop of Le Mans (994–1036, see N. C. vol. iii. p. 191), Siegfried Bishop of Seez (1007–1026), the founder and his wife, “Guillelmus princeps [in the body of the document he is “Guillelmus Bellismensis, provinciæ principatum gerens”] et Mathildis uxor ejus,” and this “Achardus dives” whom Le Prevost takes for a forefather of the “indigena nobilis et dives.”

Orderic says that Henry obtained Domfront “suffragio amicorum.” Robert of Torigny, in the next chapter of his Continuation (viii. 4), tells us who his friends a little later were. He is established at Domfront; then we read;

“Redeunte Willelmo rege in Angliam, Henricus haud segniter comitatum Constantiniensem, qui sibi fraudulentia ante præreptus fuerat, consensu Willelmi regis et auxilio Richardi de Revers et Rogerii de Magna-villa, ex majori parte in ditionem suam revocavit.”

He then goes on with the passage about Earl Hugh and the grant of Saint James to him, quoted in p. 323.

I think that this distinct assertion that Henry was now in William’s favour outweighs the vague expressions of Orderic about Henry making war on both his brothers. By 1093, the earliest date for these exploits, William was again scheming against Robert, and his obvious policy would be to ally himself with Henry.

Henry, as we have seen in the extracts from Orderic, carried on war in the usual fashion. But he at least treated his prisoners better than Robert of Bellême did. We have (698 D) a picture of one Rualedus—​a Breton Rhiwallon, or what?—​who is carried off from the lands of Saint Evroul to the castle of Domfront. It was winter; but he was not left to die of cold and hunger for Count Henry’s amusement; we see him sitting comfortably by the fire (“quum sederet ad focum; hiems enim erat”). On the road he had fallen from the horse on which he was tied, and had suffered some hurt. But, after prayer to Saint Evroul, followed by a comforting dream, he wakes, and, as his keeper’s back is turned, he gets up, unbars the door, walks into the garden, and, after some further adventures, gets back to Saint Evroul. He was a man “legitimus et laudabilis vitæ;” so Orderic, who heard the story from his own mouth, believes it. There seems no reason why anybody should disbelieve it; as the only part of the tale which sounds at all incredible is the very bad guard which Henry’s men kept over their prisoner.

NOTE Q. Vol. i. p. 302.

The Homage of Malcolm in 1091.

The account of Malcolm’s homage to William Rufus which is given by Orderic (701 A) is treated with some contempt by Mr. E. W. Robertson (Scotland under her Early Kings, i. 142), while it is naturally not forgotten by Sir Francis Palgrave (English Commonwealth, ii. cccxxxii). The main fact of the homage itself, paid to the second William on the same terms on which it had been paid to the first, is abundantly proved by the Chronicle. Nothing is gained by disproving at this stage the exaggerated account of Robert’s expedition in 1080 which is to be found in the local History of Abingdon (see N. C. vol. iv. pp. 671, 790). The only question is, whether, accepting the general fact from the Chronicle, we can or cannot accept any of the very curious details with which Orderic tells the story.

First of all, while Orderic’s geography is right, his topography is wrong. The mention of the “magnum flumen quod Scotte watra dicitur” must come from some genuine source. “Ordericus Angligena” heard the tale from some one who told it him in English. And, if there could be the shadow of a doubt, this shows that “Loðene” in the Chronicle means Lothian, and nothing else. Mr. Burton (Hist. Scot. i. 412) insists on carrying Malcolm to Leeds; but he cannot make the Aire to be the “Scotte watra.” But Orderic, who plainly got his account from some quite different source from the Chronicler, failed to take in the actual position of the two armies. He failed to see that Malcolm, having crossed the Scots’ Water into Lothian and therefore into England, was necessarily on the south side of the Scots’ Water. He fancied that the two kings were on opposite sides of the firth. William reaches the Scots’ Water; “sed, quia inaccessibilis transitus erat, super ripam consedit. Rex autem Scottorum e regione cum legionibus suis ad bellandum paratus constitit.” So he doubtless did; only they were both south of the water. The Chronicle shows plainly that Malcolm, as soon as he heard of William’s coming, determined that the invader should not, as his father had done, cross into the proper Scotland to Abernethy or elsewhere, but that he would meet him, for peace or for war, in the English part of his dominions.

This topographical confusion does not affect the main story, nor does it greatly matter whether the picturesque details of Robert’s visit to Malcolm literally happened or not. It is further plain that Orderic has left out one of the two mediators, namely Eadgar. But he records the main fact of the homage no less than the Chronicler. The question is whether we can accept the curious conversation between Robert and Malcolm, in which Malcolm makes two statements, which are perhaps a little startling in themselves, which are not mentioned elsewhere, but which certainly do not contradict what we find elsewhere.

First, Malcolm asserts that King Eadward gave him the earldom of Lothian, seemingly as the dowry of Margaret; “Fateor quod rex Eduardus, dum mihi Margaritam proneptem suam in conjugium tradidit, Lodonensem comitatum mihi donavit.” Now it is certainly true that King Eadward, or Earl Siward in his name, gave Malcolm the earldom of Lothian; only he gave him something else too, namely the kingdom of Scotland. And I have mentioned elsewhere (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 785) that a betrothal of Margaret to Malcolm, when Malcolm received the kingdom from Siward, though recorded nowhere else, is perfectly possible.

Secondly, Malcolm’s strong point is that he does owe a homage to Robert, but that he owes none to William. This he asserts in his first message; “Tibi, rex Guillelme, nihil debeo, nisi conflictum si a te injuriis lacessitus fuero. Verum si Robertum primogenitum Guillelmi regis filium videro, illi exhibere paratus sum quicquid debeo.” Afterwards, in his conference with Robert, he is made to say, after mentioning Eadward’s grant of Lothian, “Deinde Guillelmus rex quod antecessor ejus mihi dederat concessit, et me tibi primogenito suo commendavit. Unde quod tibi promisi conservabo. Sed fratri tuo nihil promisi et nihil debeo. Nemo, ut Christus ait, potest duobus dominis servire.” To this Robert agrees; “Ut asseris, ita est. Sed mutationes rerum factæ sunt, et statuta patris mei a pristina soliditate in multum vacillaverunt.” I do not know that a homage of Malcolm to Robert is recorded anywhere else, unless we so understand the confused Abingdon story about the expedition of 1080. But nothing was more likely than that William the Conqueror should at Abernethy call on Malcolm to pledge himself, as was so often done, not only to himself but to his son after him. In 1072 there could have been no reason for looking to any one but Robert as the probable successor; least of all could any one have thought of William the Red. He was not even the second son, as Richard was still alive. And the time when King William renewed the gift of his predecessor Eadward must surely be the day of Abernethy, and none other.

There is then really nothing in Orderic’s story which gainsays any known facts, and it is hard to see what should have made him think of a betrothal of Margaret, a homage to Robert, and the rest, unless he had some ground for them. And the general argument put into Malcolm’s mouth seems exactly in place. It is of a piece with the arguments of Scottish disputants long after Orderic’s day. Something is admitted, that something is perhaps specially insisted on, in order to avoid the admission of something else. Lothian is the special personal gift of Eadward to Malcolm himself, though it is certain, on any view of the cession of Lothian, that predecessors of Malcolm had held it of predecessors of Eadward. That gift of Eadward, renewed by William the Great, is allowed to carry with it a personal duty to William the Great and to his personal heir. But the denial of any duty to William the Red implicitly denies any duty to the King of the English as such. Still this question is in words left open; so is all that relates to the proper Scotland left open. Malcolm at last consents to do homage to William for something; but, in Orderic’s story at least, it is not very clear for what. (The Chronicler, we may be sure, felt so certain of its being for Scotland that he did not think it needful to say so.) All this is exactly like later controversies on the same subject. When the two kingdoms were on friendly terms, it often suited both sides that the homage should be general, leaving it open to each side to assert its own doctrine the next time there should be any dispute (see N. C. vol. v. p. 209). And we must remember that by this time it is quite possible that Rufus might make claims which Malcolm would, on the principles of an earlier time, do quite right in refusing. Strictly feudal ideas were growing, and when a King of the English demanded homage for the kingdom of Scotland, he may well have meant more than had been meant when the king and people of the Scots sought Eadward the Unconquered to father and lord. Certainly, when the whole thing had stiffened into a question of ordinary feudal law, Edward the First, if judged by the standard of the tenth century, asked more than his historic rights over Scotland, less than his historic rights over Lothian. See Historical Essays, Series I. p. 65; N. C. vol. i. p. 128.

I am therefore inclined to believe that Orderic has, in this case, as in some others, incidentally preserved facts of which we have no record elsewhere. But I am not anxious strongly to insist upon this. The general course of the history is the same, whether Margaret had or had not been betrothed to Malcolm before his marriage—​or whatever it was—​with Ingebiorg; it is the same whether Malcolm had or had not done an act of homage to Robert. And I must allow that, as Orderic has misunderstood some points at the beginning of the story, so he has more thoroughly misunderstood some points at the end of the story. For he makes Malcolm go into England—​Florence would have said into Wessex—​with William and Robert; “Deinde reges agmina sua remiserunt, et ipsi simul in Angliam profecti sunt.” This comes, as we shall presently see, from rolling together the events of the years 1091 and 1093.

The twelve “villæ” which, according to Florence, were to be restored to Malcolm are, I suppose, the same as the “mansiones” which the kings of Scots are said to have held in England in times both earlier and later than those with which we are dealing. This comes from Roger of Wendover’s account (i. 416; cf. N. C. vol. i. p. 584) of the grant of Lothian by Eadgar to Kenneth. It was given “hac conditione, ut annis singulis in festivitatibus præcipuis, quando rex et ejus successores diadema portarent, venirent ad curiam, et cum cæteris regni principibus festum cum lætitia celebrarent; dedit insuper ei rex mansiones in itinere plurimas, ut ipse et ejus successores ad festum venientes ac denuo revertentes hospitari valuissent, quæ usque in tempora regis Henrici secundi in potestate regum Scotiæ remanserunt.” The slighter mention in Florence gives some confirmation to the story in Roger. And though it was not likely that the King of Scots, or even the Earl of Lothian, should regularly attend at the great festivals, yet it was doubtless held that it was the right thing that he should do so; and we find Malcolm himself coming to the King’s court not long after (see vol. ii. p. 13), and his son Eadgar after him (see vol. ii. p. 265).

There is not much to be got from the other writers. William of Malmesbury twice refers to the matter, but as usual without much regard to chronology. It is seemingly this submission of Malcolm to which he refers in iii. 250, where, having said that Malcolm, in the days of the elder William, “incertis et sæpe fractis fœderibus ævum egit,” adds “filio Willelmi Willelmo regnante, simili modo impetitus, falso sacramento abegit.” He must also refer to this time in iv. 310–311, where he says that, after the siege of Saint Michael’s Mount, he went back to England, “quod eum Scottorum et Walensium tumultus vocabant.” There was (see vol. ii. pp. 78, ) a considerable “Walensium tumultus” this year; but it does not seem that the King himself did anything in those parts till later in his reign. William however says;

“Primo contra Walenses, post in Scottos, expeditionem movens, nihil magnificentia sua dignum exhibuit, militibus multis desideratis, jumentis interceptis.”

He then goes on to speak more at large of Welsh matters, and comes back to speak of the action of Robert in Scotland (see p. 301). The old friendship which he there speaks of between Malcolm and Robert falls in with Orderic’s story, and specially with Orderic’s way of telling it. We shall hear of it again in Notes BB, EE.

Henry of Huntingdon (vii. 2, p. 216) tells the story thus;

“Interea Melcolm rex Scotorum prædatum veniens in Angliam validissime vexavit eam. Venientes igitur in Angliam rex, et cum eo Robertus frater suus, direxerunt acies in Scotiam. Itaque Melcolm, nimio terrore perstrictus, homo regis effectus est et juramento fidelitatis ei subjectus.” Matthew Paris (Hist. Angl. i. 40) has a wonderful version in which the invasion is altogether left out. Malcolm, hearing of the peace between the brothers, begins to fear for his own kingdom. He therefore comes to William and makes a very humble homage indeed; “Veniens ad regem Angliæ Willelmum, humilitate sua regis flexit ferocitatem, asserens se nullum hostium suorum receptasse vel recepturum fore, nisi tali intentione, ut ipsos dominum suum recognoscentes, regi, persuasionibus suis mediantibus, redderet pacificatos et fideliores.”

NOTE R. Vol. i. p. 313.

The Earldom of Carlisle.

It is certainly a singular fact that, so lately as 1873, a long controversy raged in the Times newspaper as to the reason why Cumberland and Westmoreland were not surveyed in Domesday. The dispute was kept up for some time among men who seemed to have some local knowledge; but, till Dr. Luard kindly stepped in to set them right, every reason was guessed at but the true one. No one seemed to grasp the simple facts, that no part of England was known at the time of the Survey by the name Cumberland or Westmoreland—​that so much of the shires now bearing those names as then formed part of the kingdom of England is surveyed under the head of Yorkshire—​that the reason why the rest is left unsurveyed is because it formed no part of the kingdom of England. The whole matter had long before been thoroughly sifted and set right by two local writers, who, I am tempted to suspect, were only one writer; yet the received local confusions were just as strong as ever.

The general history of Cumberland, and of this part of it in particular, was very minutely examined in the Introduction to the volume published in 1847 by the Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle-upon-Tyne under the name of “The Pipe-Rolls or Sheriffs’ Annual Accounts of the Revenues of the Crown for the Counties of Cumberland, Westmorland, and Durham, during the Reigns of Henry II, Richard I, and John.” After this, in 1859, a paper was read by Mr. Hodgson Hinde at the Carlisle meeting of the Archæological Institute, “On the Early History of Cumberland,” which appeared in the Archæological Journal, vol. xvi. p. 217. These two essays have pretty well exhausted the piece of Cumbrian history with which I have now to deal, and they contain a great deal more with which I am not concerned.

The word Cumberland, I need not say, is a word of many meanings, and at the present moment we have not to do with any of them. We have to do only with the city and earldom of Carlisle, which does not answer to Cumberland in either the older or the later sense. The confusion which has immediately to be got rid of is the notion that Carlisle and its district already formed an English earldom in the time of the Conqueror. Thus we read in Sir Francis Palgrave (English Commonwealth, i. 449);

“‘Cumberland’—​for we must now call the Dominion by its modern appellation—​was, as I have observed, retained by the Conqueror; Malcolm had invaded the country; but he could not defend the territory against William, who granted Cumberland to Ranulph de Meschines, one of his Norman followers; and the border Earldom became wholly assimilated, in its political character, to the other great baronies of England…. Carlisle was always excepted from these grants. The city, and the territory of fifteen miles in circuit, had become English by Ecgfrid’s donation, and probably was always held, either by the Kings or Earls of Bernicia or of Northumbria. Little further is known concerning ‘merry Carlisle,’ the seat of Arthur’s chivalry. Until the reign of William Rufus, this city, desolated by the Danes, was almost void of inhabitants. William completed the restoration of its walls and towers, which his father had begun.”

This comes primarily from a passage in the so-called Matthew of Westminster under the year 1072;

“Rex Gulihelmus cum grandi exercitu Scotiam ingressus est, et obviavit ei pacifice Malcolmus rex Scotorum apud Barwicum et homo suus devenit. His temporibus regebat comitatum Carleoli comes Ranulphus de Micenis, qui efficax auxilium præbuit regi Gulihelmo in conquestu suo Angliæ. Hic urbem Carleoli cœpit ædificare, et cives ejusdem plurimis privilegiis munire. Sed rediens rex Gulihelmus a Scotia per Cumbriam, videns tam regale municipium, abstulit illud a Ranulpho comite, et dedit illi pro eo comitatum Cestriæ, multis honoribus privilegiatum. Carleolum vero precepit rex Gulihelmus turribus propugnaculisque muniri firmissimis. Rex vero Gulihelmus Conquestor in redeundo de Scotia apud Dunelmum novum ibidem construxit castellum contra irruptiones Scotorum.”

There is also printed in the Monasticon, vol. iii. p. 584, a genealogical document called “Chronicon Cumbriæ,” which comes from the Register of Wetheral priory. This begins by saying that

“Rex Willielmus, cognomine Bastardus, dux Normanniæ, conquestor Angliæ, dedit totam terram de comitatu Cumbriæ Ranulpho de Meschines, et Galfrido fratri ejusdem Ranulphi totum comitatum Cestriæ, et Willielmo fratri eorundem terram de Copland, inter Duden et Darwent.”

The source of error here is that Matthew of Westminster, so to call him, mixed up the Scottish expedition of the Conqueror in 1072 with the Scottish expedition of William Rufus in 1091, and made the restoration of Carlisle a work of the father and not of the son. He also brings in Earl Randolf, with whom we are not as yet concerned; but it is to be noticed that he says nothing about an earldom of Cumberland, but speaks only of an earldom of Carlisle. It is only in the Wetheral document that an earldom of Cumberland is carried back to the days of the Conqueror. Sir Francis Palgrave failed to notice this distinction; but he knew his books far too well to pass by the entries in the Chronicle and Florence under 1092. He therefore tried to reconcile them with the passages in Matthew of Westminster and the Wetheral chronicle by supposing an earldom of Cumberland which did not take in Carlisle and its district. The error and its source were first pointed out by Lappenberg (ii. 175 of the German original, p. 234 of Mr. Thorpe’s Anglo-Norman Kings, where, as usual, some of Lappenberg’s notes and references are left out). Lappenberg notices the difference between Matthew’s story and Palgrave’s; he suggests that Matthew has further confounded the events of 1072 and 1092 with those of 1122; and he gives a summary of the whole matter in the words;

“Wichtig aber ist es wahrzunehmen, dass erst Rufus und nicht sein Vater Cumberland zu einer wirklichen Provinz des normannischen Englands machte.”

Here is the root of the matter, so far as we have got rid of the notion of the Conqueror having done anything at Carlisle or thereabouts. Still Lappenberg should not have spoken, as I myself ought not to have spoken (N. C. vol. v. p. 118), of Cumberland now becoming an English earldom. The district with which we are concerned forms only a very small part of the old kingdom of Cumberland, while it does not answer to the modern county of Cumberland, which does not appear by that name till 1177 (see Pipe Rolls of Cumberland, p. 18; Archæological Journal, xvi. 230). The land with which we are concerned bears the name of the city. It is the land and earldom, not of Cumberland, but of Carlisle.

The point to be clearly taken in is that the district with which we are concerned was not part of England till 1092; more accurately still, it ceased to be part of England in 685, and became so again in 1092. For those four centuries, Carlisle, city and district, had as much or as little to do with England as the lands immediately to the north of it, the lands which formed that part of Cumberland in the wider sense which became in the end part of the kingdom of Scotland. This district of Carlisle does not answer to any modern shire, and it is of course not surveyed in Domesday. But it does answer to the diocese of Carlisle, as it stood before late changes. That diocese took in part of modern Cumberland and part of modern Westmoreland. The rest of those shires, with Lancashire north of Ribble and the wapentake of Ewecross (Pipe Rolls, p. xlii), formed the Domesday district of Agemundreness (see Domesday, 301 b), forming part of Yorkshire, as it formed part of York diocese till the changes under Henry the Eighth. Mr. Hinde suggests (Arch. Journal, xvi. 227) that this district was conquered by Earl Eadwulf, the great enemy of the Britons (see N. C. vol. i. p. 526), a position which it might be hard either to prove or to disprove. Before the death of Henry the First, the Carlisle district was divided into two shires, Carlisle and Westmoreland (Chaerleolium and Westmarieland, Pipe Roll Hen. I. pp. 140, 143). This last consisted of the barony of Appleby, specially known as Westmoreland. Enlarged by the barony of Kirkby Kendal in Yorkshire, it became the modern county of Westmoreland. So the shire of Carlisle took the name of Cumberland in 1177, and, enlarged by the part of Yorkshire north of the Duddon, it became the modern county of Cumberland. But these added lands remained part of the diocese of York, till Henry the Eighth removed them to his diocese of Chester. This last diocese must not be confounded with the diocese of Chester—​otherwise of Lichfield or Coventry—​with which we have to do in our story. That diocese did not reach north of the Ribble, and its seat at Chester was in Saint John’s minster, while the new see of Henry the Eighth was planted in Saint Werburh’s.

The earldom of Carlisle brings us among old acquaintances. It was granted early in the reign of Henry the First (see Arch. Journal, xvi. 230, 231) to Randolf called Meschines, de Micenis, and other forms, who in 1118 became Earl of Chester, on the death of Earl Richard in the White Ship (see N. C. vol. v. p. 195), on which he gave up Carlisle. He died in 1129, being the second husband of the younger Lucy (see N. C. vol. ii. p. 682; vol. iii. p. 778), daughter of Ivo Taillebois. Ivo himself, at some time after the drawing up of Domesday (Carlisle Pipe Rolls, p. xliii) appears in the same part of the world as lord of Kirkby Kendal. After 1118 the earldom of Carlisle or Cumberland remained in the crown, till it was granted to David of Scotland in 1136 (see N. C. vol. v. p. 259).

The name of the city and earldom of Carlisle is the best comment on its history. Alone among the names of English cities, it remains purely British, not only in its root, but, so to speak, in its grammar. The British idiom, I need hardly say, places the qualifying word second; the Teutonic idiom places it first. Thus Caer Gwent and Caer Glovi have become Winchester and Gloucester. But Caer Luel has not changed; it remains Carlisle, and has not become something like Lilchester. The reason is doubtless because the first English occupation of Caer Luel did not last long enough to give it a lasting English name. In 1092 nomenclature had lost the life which it had in 685, and a foreign tongue moreover had the upper hand. No one then thought of turning the name of Carlisle about, any more than of doing so by the names of Cardiff (Caerdydd), Caermarthen, or the Silurian Caerwent and Caerleon.

As for the colonists brought from the south, I have assumed them to be a strictly Saxon element added to the already mixed population of the border. And there may have been a Flemish element too, as I was inclined to think when I wrote N. C. vol. v. p. 119. The point is not of much importance, as the two kindred elements would easily fuse together; but it strikes me now that, if any part of the settlers had come from beyond sea, the Chronicler would not have so calmly spoken of them as churlish folk from the south. That phrase however is one well worthy of notice. The words “hider suð” can hardly have been written at Peterborough. That abbey certainly lies a long way south of Carlisle; but Peterborough would hardly speak of itself in this general way as “south.” (In 1051 Worcester, which lies south of Peterborough, counted itself to be “at this north end”—“ofer ealre þisne norð ende” says the Worcester Chronicle. See N. C. vol. ii. p. 620.) The suggestion that these “churlish folk” (“multi villani” in the translation in the Waverley Annals) were the men who had lost their lands at the making of the New Forest has high authority in its favour. It seems to have been first made by Palgrave (English Commonwealth, i. 450), and it is supported by Lappenberg (ii. 175, Thorpe 235). Still it is a simple guess, and I cannot say that to my own mind it has any air even of likelihood. It arises, it seems to me, from an exaggerated notion of the amount of havoc done at the making of the New Forest, combined with a forgetfulness of the time which had passed since that event. We cannot fix its exact date, but the Survey shows that whatever was done in the New Forest, much or little was fully done before 1085, and we are now in 1092.

The earliest official notice of Carlisle and Westmoreland, the Pipe Roll of the 31st year of Henry the First, contains several interesting entries. The city wall was building. There are entries, “in operationibus civitatis de Caerleolio, videlicet in muro circa civitatem faciendo” (p. 140), “in operatione muri civitatis de Caerleolio” (p. 141), and (p. 142) “in liberatione vigilis turris de Penuesel,” which needs a local expounder. Both in this roll and in the rolls under Henry the Second we notice a mixture of personal nomenclature, Norman, Danish, English, and Scottish, which is just what we should look for. Distinctly British names I do not see. In the first few pages of the roll of 1156 we find at least three Gospatrics. One is very fittingly the son of Orm; another is the son of Beloc (6), whose nationality may be doubted; a third is the son of Mapbennoc, a clear Pict or Scot. So again we have Uhtred son of Fergus (p. 5), William son of Holdegar, Æthelward [Ailward] son of Dolfin, hardly the dispossessed prince. Swegen son of Æthelric [Sweinus fil. Alrici] in the roll of Henry the First (142) is a local man; but Henry son of Swegen, who comes often under Henry the Second, is the unlucky descendant of Robert son of Wymarc. See N. C. vol. iv. p. 735. There are a good many entries about the canons of Saint Mary of Carlisle who were founded before the bishopric, in 1102 (see Haddan and Stubbs, ii. 13). There is a notice in 1156 (p. 3) of the Bishop of Candida Casa or Whithern. That see was (Haddan and Stubbs, ii. 25) revived about 1127, as suffragan of York, and 1156 is the date of the death of Æthelwulf the first Bishop of Carlisle.

NOTE S. Vol. i. p. 329.

The Early Life of Randolf Flambard.

I quoted some of the passages bearing on the early life of Randolf Flambard in N. C. vol. iv. p. 521. I mentioned there that he had a brother named Osbern, who appears in the Abingdon History. He had another brother Fulcher, of whom we shall hear again. See Ord. Vit. 788 D, and vol. ii. p. 416. He had also a son Thomas. I do not feel quite so sure as I did then, or as Dr. Stubbs seems to be (Const. Hist. i. 348), that he really did hold lands in England T. R. E. The entry which looks like it is the second of the three in Domesday, 51, which stands thus in full;

“Isdem Ranulfus tenuit in ipsa villa i. hidam, et pro tanto se defendebat T. R. E. modo est tota in foresta exceptis iiii. acris prati terra fuit iiii. carucatarum. Hæ duæ terræ valebant iiii. libras.”

It appears then that Flambard lost the arable part of this hide at the making of the New Forest, as he also lost another hide, with the same exception of four acres of meadow, which had been held T. R. E. by one Alwold. A third hide, of which it is said that “duo alodiarii tenuerunt,” he kept, as well as his holdings in Oxford and Oxfordshire. Dr. Stubbs suggests that these lands were “possibly acquired in the service of the Norman Bishop William of London.” Sir F. Palgrave (England and Normandy, iv. 52) makes the most of this despoiling of a Norman holder. But I am not clear that the words of the entry which I have given in full necessarily imply that the land was held by Flambard himself T. R. E. And, if we need not suppose this, his story becomes a great deal simpler. Above all, we need no longer suppose that a man who lived till 1128, and whose mother was living in 1100 (see vol. ii. p. 398), had made himself of importance enough to receive grants of land at some time before 1066.

The account of Flambard which is given by Orderic (678 C) would certainly not suggest that he had been in England in the time of Eadward;

“Hic de obscura satis et paupere parentela prodiit, et multum ultra natales suos ad multorum detrimentum sublimatus intumuit. Turstini cujusdum plebeii presbyteri de pago Bajocensi filius fuit, et a puerilibus annis inter pedissequos curiales cum vilibus parasitis educatus crevit, callidisque tergiversationibus et argutis verborum machinationibus plusquam arti literatoriæ studuit. Et quia semetipsum in curia magni regis Guillermi arroganter illustribus præferre ardebat, nesciente non jussus, multa inchoabat, infestus in aula regis plures procaciter accusabat, temereque majoribus quasi regia vi fultus imperabat.”

It is not easy to reconcile this with the version which makes Flambard pass into the King’s service from that of Bishop Maurice, who did not become bishop till Christmas, 1085. The story of his service with Maurice appears in the account of him which is printed in Anglia Sacra (i. 705), and also along with Simeon (249 ed. Bedford, and X Scriptt. 59). It is much more likely that the name of the bishop should be wrongly given than that his service with some bishop of London should be mere invention. If so, he may have passed into the service of the Conqueror at almost any time of his reign, while still so young that it becomes an easy exaggeration on the part of Orderic to say that he was in the King’s service from his childhood. The passage in the Life which continues Simeon stands thus;

“Fuerat autem primo cum Mauritio Lundoniensi episcopo; sed propter decaniam sibi ablatam orto discidio, spe altioris loci se transtulit ad regem.”

This must surely refer to something which really happened; and in the Register of Christchurch Twinham (Mon. Angl. vi. 303) we distinctly read of Flambard, “qui Randulphus antea fuerat decanus in ecclesia Christi de Twynham.” But this is directly followed by another extract from the same register which denies that the heads of the church of Twinham ever bore the title of dean, and which connects Flambard with Twinham in quite another way. According to this story, there were at Twinham in the time of William Rufus twenty-four canons under a chief named Godric (“Hunc Godricum sui tunc temporis clerici, non pro decano, quasi nominis ignorantes, sed pro seniore ac patrono venerabantur”). Flambard, already bishop of Durham, obtains a grant of Twinham and its church from William Rufus (“Randulfus episcopus hanc ecclesiam cum villa a rege Willielmo impetravit”). If I rightly understand a very corrupt text, Flambard enriches the church and designs to rebuild it, and then to put in monks instead of canons; meanwhile he keeps the prebends vacant as they fall in. This Godric opposes; but in the end Flambard rebuilds the church, and keeps the prebends in his own hands till there are only thirteen left. Then comes his own banishment, and the grant of the church to one Gilbert de Dousgunels, after which Flambard seems to have had nothing more to do with it.

It is odd that so many prebends should have become vacant in the single year during which Flambard held the bishopric for the first time, and one would not have expected him to have been a favourer of monks. But I can get no other meaning out of the words “cupiens et disponens … præfatam ecclesiam … funditus eruere, et meliorem decentioremque cuilibet ædificare religioni.” What comes after seems plainer still;

“Fregit episcopus illius loci primitivam ecclesiam, novemque alias quæ infra cimiterium steterant, cum quorundam domibus canonicorum prope locum ecclesiæ cimiterii, et officinarum compenciorem [?] faciendum et canonicis in villa congruum immutationem [sic] ut dominus adaptavit locum. Fundavit equidem hanc ecclesiam episcopus Randulfus quæ nunc est apud Twynham, et domos et officinas cuilibet religioni. Obeunte canonicorum aliquo, ejus beneficium in sua retinebat potestate, nulli tribuens alii, volens unamquamque dare præbendam religioni, si eos omnes mortis fortuna in suo tulisset tempore.”

Now all this can hardly have happened between Flambard’s consecration in 1099 and his imprisonment in 1100. But he may have had the grant of Twinham before he was bishop. Again, in two charters (Mon. Angl. vi. 304), granted by the elder Baldwin of Redvers, we hear of deans of Twinham and of “Ranulfus decanus,” which seems to mean Flambard himself. The lands of the canons of Twinham are entered in Domesday, 44; but there is no mention of Flambard.

We thus have the absolutely certain fact that Flambard held lands near Twinham. In two independent sources he is said to have been dean of Twinham. In another independent source he is said to have held and lost some deanery not named. In yet another story he is described, not as dean of Twinham, but as doing great things at Twinham in another character. These accounts cannot literally be reconciled; but they certainly point to a connexion of some kind between him and the church of Twinham.

We must indeed mourn the loss of the primitive church of Twinham with its nine surrounding chapels, something like Glendalough or Clonmacnois. The nave of the present church may well be Flambard’s work; but it has no special likeness to his work at Durham. But this may only prove that he built it before he went to Durham, and there learned the improvements in architecture which had been brought in by William of Saint-Calais (see N. C. vol. v. p. 631). The seculars of Twinham made way for Austin canons about 1150.

While speaking of Twinham, I must correct a statement which I made long ago with regard to one of the chief worthies of my earlier story. I said (N. C. vol. ii. p. 33) that Earl Godwine was “nowhere enrolled among the founders or benefactors of any church, religious or secular.” I find him enrolled among the benefactors of Twinham. And here again we mark that, as with his wife (see N. C. vol. ii. p. 358) and his son, his bounty goes to the seculars. The passage, in one of the charters of the elder Baldwin of Redvers granted to Hilary Dean of Twinham (Mon. Angl. vi. 304), stands thus;

“Ecclesiam de Stoppele cum omnibus quæ ad eam spectant; unam virgatam terræ cum appendiciis in eadem villa ex dono Godwini comitis, quam Orricus de Stanton eidem Christi ecclesiæ violenter surripuit.”

I cannot identify this “Orricus de Stanton” in Domesday, nor do I know anything as to the genuineness of the charter. But no one in the twelfth century or later would be likely to invent a benefaction of Earl Godwine.

Orderic, in the passage quoted above (678 C), distinctly speaks of Randolf as having been in the service of the Conqueror, and it must have been in his court that he got the surname which, in so many forms, has stuck to him, and which we find even in Domesday (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 521). The way in which he came by it is thus described—​his false accusations have just been mentioned;

“Unde a Roberto dispensatore regio Flambardus cognominatus est, quod vocabulum ei secundum mores ejus et actus quasi prophetice collatum est. Flamma quippe ardens multis factis intulit genti novos ritus, quibus crudeliter oppressit populorum cœtus, et ecclesiæ cantus temporales mutavit in planctus.”

In this last piece of rhetoric we seem to lose the real reason why he was called Flambard, which is not very clear: still less do we get any explanation of the form “Passeflambard.” Lappenberg (ii. 167) says “er habe den Beinamen von der Fackel wegen seiner schon früh bewährten Habsucht erhalten.” But one has some fellow-feeling with his translator (225)—​if he would only have written English to match Lappenberg’s German—“It is not easy to conceive how the sobriquet of Flambeau could be given to an individual on account of his covetousness.” Nor is it quite clear that it is covetousness strictly so called of which Orderic speaks. He says elsewhere (786 D); “Erat sollers et facundus, et, licet crudelis et iracundus, largus tamen et plerumque jocundus, et ob hoc plerisque gratus et amandus.”

In a letter to Pope Paschal (Epp. iv. 2) Anselm seems quite carried out of his usual mildness of speech by the thought of Flambard, especially by the thought of his being made a bishop. The letter must have been written just after Paschal and Flambard had received their several promotions. We get the same derivation of the name as in our other extracts; “Quando de Anglia exivi, erat ibi quidem professione sacerdos [see p. 330], non solum publicanus, sed etiam publicanorum princeps infamissimus, nomine Ranulphus, propter crudelitatem similem flammæ comburenti, promine Flambardus; cujus flamma qualis sit, non in Anglia solum, sed in exteris regnis longe lateque innotuit.”

Lappenberg, in the passage quoted above, refers to Thierry’s wonderful account of Flambard (ii. 141);

“Renouf Flambard, évêque de Lincoln, autrefois valet de pied chez les ducs de Normandie, commettait, dans son diocèse, de tels brigandages, que les habitants souhaitaient de mourir, dit un ancien historien, plutôt que de vivre sous sa puissance.”

I cannot find that Thierry speaks of Flambard anywhere else. The “valet de pied” must come from the bit in Orderic about the “pedissequi curiales.” The rest, including the wonderful confusion which makes him bishop of Lincoln, comes, as Lappenberg points out, from a passage in the Winchester Annals, 1092 (cf. 1097), which I shall presently have to refer to. But it is really amazing that Flambard’s loss of property in the New Forest did not cause him to be brought in at some stage or other as an oppressed Saxon.

NOTE T. Vol. i. p. 333.

The Official Position of Randolf Flambard.

The exact formal position held by Flambard under William Rufus has in some measure to be guessed at, as the rhetoric of our authorities sometimes veils such matters in rather vague language. Thus his biographer (Anglia Sacra, i. 706) describes him;

“Admixtus enim causis regaliorum negotiorum, cum esset acrioris ingenii et promptioris linguæ, brevi in tantum excrevit ut adepta apud regem familiaritas totius Angliæ potentes et natu quoque nobiliores illum superferret. Totius namque regni procurator constitutus, interdum insolentius accepta abutens potestate, cum negotiis regis pertinacius insisteret, plures offendere parvi pendebat. Quæ res multorum ei invidiam et odium contraxerat. Crebris accusationibus serenum animi regalis ei obnubilare, et locum familiaritatis conabantur interrumpere.”

Here we have a vague description of a position of great influence, without the bestowal of any official title whatever. Orderic (678 B), in first introducing him, comes somewhat nearer to a formal description;

“His temporibus quidam clericus nomine Rannulfus familiaritatem Rufi regis adeptus est, et super omnes regios officiales ingeniosis accusationibus et multifariis adulationibus magistratum a rege consecutus est.”

What then was the formal description of this office which set its holder above all other officers of the King? Lappenberg (ii. 168, p. 226 of the English translation) and Stubbs (Const. Hist. i. 347) both rule, and seemingly with good reason, that the office held by Flambard was really that of Justiciar. Official names were at this time still used so vaguely that it seems to be only in another passage of Orderic (786 C, see p. 559) that he is directly called so; but, as Lappenberg says, his office is distinctly marked by the words of the Chronicler (1099), when he says that the King “Rannulfe his capellane þæt biscoprice on Dunholme geaf þe æror ealle his gemot ofer eall Engleland draf and bewiste.” The same office seems to be meant when Florence (1100) says, “Cujus astutia et calliditas tam vehemens extitit, et parvo tempore adeo excrevit, ut placitatorem ac totius regni exactorem rex illum constitueret.” Henry of Huntingdon uses the same word, when (vii. 21, p. 232 ed. Arnold) he seems to be translating the entry in the Chronicle; “Anno illo [1099] rex Ranulfo placitatori sed perversori, exactori sed exustori, totius Angliæ, dedit episcopatum Dunhelme.” Florence himself, in his entry under the same year, calls him “Rannulfus, quem negotiorum totius regni exactorem constituerat.” (In 1094 he is “Rannulphus Passeflambardus.”) Dr. Stubbs (Const. Hist. i. 348) remarks that these “expressions recall the ancient identity of the gerefa with the exactor, and suggest that one part of the royal policy was to entrust the functions which had belonged to the præfectus or high steward to a clerk or creature of the court.” In the Gesta Pontificum (274) William of Malmesbury, like the Biographer, calls him “totius regni procurator;” in Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 20), he is more vaguely “Ranulfus regiæ voluntatis maximus executor.”

We have seen that Randolf Flambard was a priest (see above, p. 556), and he is spoken of in a marked way as the King’s chaplain. His biographer (Angl. Sac. i. 706) says that “propter quandam apud regem excellentiam, singulariter nominabatur capellanus regis.” And we have seen that he is so called in the Chronicle. The word is found in only one other place in the Chronicle, namely in 1114, where it is said of Thurstan Archbishop of York, “Se wæs æror þæs cynges capelein.” We must remember that, with all the Red King’s impiety and blasphemy, he seems never to have formally renounced the fellowship of Christians, as he was never formally cut off from it. But his choice of an immediate spiritual adviser is at least characteristic.

Some of the passages describing the administration of Flambard are of special importance. That given by William of Malmesbury (iv. 314) I have had occasion to quote piecemeal; but it may be well to give it as a whole;

“Accessit regiæ menti fomes cupiditatum, Ranulfus clericus, ex infimo genere hominum lingua et calliditate provectus ad summum. Is, si quando edictum regium processisset ut nominatum tributum Anglia penderet, duplum adjiciebat, expilator divitum, exterminator pauperum, confiscator alienarum hæreditatum. Invictus causidicus, et tum verbis tum rebus immodicus, juxta in supplices ut in rebelles furens; subinde cachinnantibus quibusdam ac dicentibus,” &c.

The last words of this extract are of special importance (see p. 332). Florence (1100) speaks to much the same effect; “Tanta potestate adepta, ubique locorum per Angliam ditiores ac locupletiores quosdam, rerum terrarumque ablatione, multavit, pauperiores autem gravi injustoque tributo incessanter oppressit, multisque modis, et ante episcopatum et in episcopatu, majores et minores communiter afflixit, et hoc usque ad regis ejusdem obitum.”

Orderic, in his second description (786 C), thus speaks of him;

“Hic nimirum de plebeia stirpe progressus Guillelmo Rufo admodum adulatus est, et machinationibus callidis illi favens super omnes regni optimates ab illo sublimatus est. Summus regiarum procurator opum et justitiarius factus est, et innumeris crudelitatibus frequenter exercitatis exosus, et pluribus terribilis factus est. Ipse vero contractis undique opibus, et ampliatis honoribus, nimis locupletatus est, et usque ad pontificale stemma, quamvis pene illiteratus esset, non merito religionis, sed potentia seculari provectus est. Sed quia mortalis vitæ potentia nulla longa est, interempto rege suo, ut veternus patriæ deprædator a novo rege incarceratus est.”

Henry imprisons him, he goes on to say, “pro multis enim injuriis, quibus ipsum Henricum aliosque regni filios, tam pauperes quam divites, vexaverat, multisque modis crebro afflictos irreverenter contristaverat.” The tradition of him in later times remained to the same effect, as we see by the description of him in Roger of Wendover (ii. 165), which is copied with some improvements by Matthew Paris (Hist. Angl. i. 182);

“Tenuit autem eo tempore rex in custodia Ranulphum, episcopum Dunelmensem, hominem perversum et ad omne scelus pronum et paratum, quem frater ejus rex Willelmus episcopum fecerat Dunelmensem et regni Angliæ apporriatorem et potius subversorem, nam vir fuit cavillosus. Qui cum regi jam dicto nimis fuisset familiaris, constituerat eum rex W[illelmus], quia quilibet sibi similes quærit questores, procuratorem suum in regno, ut evelleret, destrueret, raperet et disperderet, et omnia omnium bona ad fisci commodum comportaret.”

In this extract the “apporriator,” a queer word enough, but the meaning of which is plain, the “vir cavillosus,” and the “quæstores,” all come from Matthew’s own mint.

The Biographer of the Durham bishops has a story to tell of Flambard at this time of his life. Some of those who had suffered by his false accusations and his other devices, seemingly persons about the court, make a plan to get rid of him altogether. A certain Gerald undertakes the task. He meets the Chaplain—​Flambard is so called in a marked way throughout the story—​in London, and tells him a feigned tale that his old master Bishop Maurice is lying at the point of death in one of his houses on the banks of the Thames—​Stepney perhaps; it cannot be Fulham (see Domesday, 127 b) as the story shows—​and wishes greatly to see Flambard once more before he dies. He himself had been sent by the Bishop with a boat to bring him with the more speed. Flambard, suspecting no harm, enters the boat with a few followers. The boat goes down the river to a distance which puzzles the Chaplain, who is put off with false excuses. At last he sees a larger vessel anchored in the middle of the stream, and clearly waiting for his coming. He now understands the plot. He is carried into the ship, which he finds full of armed men. With admirable presence of mind, he drops his ring, and his notary (“notarius suus”) drops his seal (“sigillum illius”), into the middle of the river—​somewhat after the manner of James the Second—​that they may not be used to give currency to any forged documents (“ne per hæc ubique locorum per Angliam cognita, simulata præcepta hostibus decipientibus transmissa rerum perturbarent statum”). Then his men are allowed to go on shore, on taking an oath that they will tell no one that their lord has been carried off. The ship puts out to sea, and presently goes with full sail southward. The Chaplain sits in the stern, while the sailors debate what kind of death he shall die. Two sons of Belial are chosen, who, for the wages of the fine clothes which Flambard has on, will either throw him into the sea or brain him with clubs (“Eliguntur duo filii Belial, qui illum in fluctus projicerent, vel fracto fustibus cerebro enecarent, habituri pretium sceleris optimas quibus tunc indutus fuerat vestes”). The would-be murderers dispute who shall have his mantle, and this delay saves his life. By this time the wind changes; a storm comes from the south, night comes on, the ship is dashed about hither and thither; there is no hope save to try to go back in the direction by which they have come. At this point they again debate the question of Flambard’s death. There is now a fear lest he should escape and avenge the wrong done to him. But, as is usual in such stories, one was found who was of milder mood; his name is not given, but he held the place in the ship next after Gerald (“quidam secundus in navi a Geraldo tantum exhorrens scelus”). He is struck with remorse; he confesses his crime to Flambard, and says that, if he will grant him his pardon, he will do what he can for him and stand by him as his companion in life or death. Then Flambard, whose spirit we are told always rose with danger, speaks to Gerald in a loud voice; Gerald is his man, whose faith is pledged to him; he will not prosper if he ventures on such a crime as this (“Tunc ille, sicut magnanimus semper erat in periculis, ingenti clamore vociferans, quid tu, inquit, Geralde, cogitas? Quid de nobis machinaris? Homo meus es; fidem mihi debes; hanc violare non tibi cedet in prosperum”). He calls on him to give up his wicked purpose; let him name his reward, and he shall have it; he will give him his hand as a sign of his own good faith (“Pete quantum volueris. Ego sum qui plura petitis præstare potero; et ne discredas promissis, ecce manu affirmo quod polliceor”). Gerald, having less faith in his promises than fear of his power, agrees. He goes back to the haven, and receives Flambard in his own house near the shore (“Ille non tam promissis illectus, quam potentia viri exterritus, consentit, eductumque de navi jam in portum repulsa honorifico in sua domo quæ litori prominebat procuravit apparatu”). But, still not trusting Flambard, he took himself off for ever (“Nequaquam credulus promissorum fugæ præsidium iniens æterno disparuit exilio”). Flambard goes back to London with a great array (“Ranulphus vero accitis undique militibus multa armatorum manu grandique strepitu deducitur Lundoniam”). All are amazed to see him whom they had believed to be dead. He takes his old place in the King’s counsels; he rises higher in the King’s favour than ever, and no man dares to form any more schemes against him as long as the King lives.

There seems no reason why this story should not be true; true or false, it is characteristic. Just as in the later case of Thomas of London, we see the greatness to which men of the class of Randolf Flambard could rise—​their wealth, power and splendour, their numerous and even knightly following. One is tempted to ask something more about Gerald the author of this daring plot against Flambard’s life. Except that he is said to have gone away for ever, one would be tempted to think that he must be the same as Gerard—​the two names are easily confounded—​afterwards Bishop of Hereford and Archbishop of York, a man seemingly of much the same class and disposition as Flambard himself, and who appears (see pp. 524, 543) as a ready instrument of the will of William Rufus.

NOTE U. Vol. i. p. 332.

The alleged Domesday of Randolf Flambard.

I suppose that the story about a new Survey of England, to which Sir Francis Palgrave attached such great importance, may be held to be set aside by the remarks of Dr. Stubbs, Const. Hist. i. 302, 348. He rules that in all likelihood Flambard had a hand in the real Domesday, and that Orderic simply made a mistake as to the date, which he is not at all unlikely to have done. Long before Dr. Stubbs wrote, I had come to the conclusion that the story in Orderic, as it stood, could not be accepted. It is found in Orderic’s first account of Flambard (678 C), where he tells us that he persuaded William Rufus to make a new Survey of England. He measured, we are told, by the rope—​according, as it would seem, to the measure of Normandy instead of the measure of England—​in order in some way to increase the King’s revenue. The words stand thus;

“Hic juvenem fraudulentis stimulationibus inquietavit regem, incitans ut totius Angliæ reviseret descriptionem, Anglicæque telluris comprobans iteraret partitionem, subditisque recideret, tam advenis quam indigenis, quicquid inveniretur ultra certam dimensionem. Annuente rege, omnes carucatas quas Angli hidas vocant, funiculo mensus est et descripsit; postpositisque mensuris quas liberales Angli jussu Eduardi regis largiter distribuerant imminuit, et regales fiscos accumulans colonis arva retruncavit. Ruris itaque olim diutius nacti diminutione et insoliti vectigalis gravi exaggeratione, supplices regiæ fidelitati plebes indecenter oppressit, ablatis rebus attenuavit, et in nimiam egestatem de ingenti copia redegit.”

I do not profess to know exactly what Flambard is here supposed to have done. Sir Francis Palgrave goes into the matter at some length, both in his English Commonwealth (ii. ccccxlvii) and in his History of Normandy (iv. 59). If I rightly understand his meaning, the carucata in the valuation of the Conqueror was not an unvarying amount of the earth’s surface, but differed according to the nature of the land. A carucate of good land would consist of fewer acres than a carucate of bad. Flambard, we are to understand, measured out the land by the rope into carucates of equal size, and exacted from each the full measure of the geld. That is to say, an estate consisting mainly of poor land would be reckoned at many more carucates, and therefore would have to pay a much higher tax, than it had before. I do not say that this may not be the meaning; but the words of Orderic read to me as if they applied to an actual taking away of land, as well as to a mere increase in its taxation. One might almost fancy that, if a man had land of greater extent than answered to his number of carucates according to the new reckoning, the overplus was treated as land to which he had no legal claim, and was therefore confiscated to the crown. But the real question is whether anything of the kind happened at all. It is not mentioned by any writer except Orderic, and it is the kind of thing about which Orderic in his Norman monastery might not be very well informed. It should be remembered, as Lappenberg (ii. 168 of the original, 226 of the English translation) remarks, that Orderic makes no distinct mention of the real Domesday Survey, and this statement may very well have arisen from a confusion between the great Survey of the Conqueror and some of the local surveys of which there were many. Sir Francis Palgrave believed that he had found a piece of Flambard’s Domesday in an ancient lieger-book of Evesham abbey, which the mention of Samson Bishop of Worcester fixes to some date between 1096 and 1112. Of the genuineness of the document there is no doubt; but I cannot see, any more than Lappenberg did, any reason for supposing it to be anything more than a local survey. The passage printed by Sir Francis Palgrave, which he compares with the corresponding part of the Exchequer Domesday—​to which it certainly has no likeness—​relates wholly to the two towns of Gloucester and Winchcombe, so that it gives no means of seeing whether the number of carucates in any particular estate differs in the two reckonings.

I cannot believe with Lappenberg that “Henricus comes,” who appears among a crowd of not very exalted people as the owner of one burgess at Gloucester, is the future King; it is surely Henry Earl of Warwick.

Dr. Stubbs, while rejecting Orderic’s story altogether, further rejects Sir Francis Palgrave’s explanation of it. He merely hints that Orderic “may refer to a substitution of the short hundred for the long in the reckoning of the hide of land.” But it is safer to look, as he does, on the whole story as a misapprehension.

Of this way of measuring by the rope—​whence the Rapes in Sussex—​several examples are collected by Maurer, Einleitung zur Geschichte der Mark- Hof- Dorf- und Stadtverfassung, 72. 135. Cf. Herodotus, vii. 23; ὤρυσσον δὲ ὧδε· δασάμενοι τὸν χῶρον οἱ βάρβαροι κατὰ ἔθνεα, κατὰ Σάνην πόλιν σχοινοτενὲς ποιησάμενοι.. In Sussex itself we have (see above, p. 68) the story of the measuring of the lowy of Lewes by the rope, which is at least more likely than the story told by the same writer (Will. Gem. viii. 15) that the earldom of Hereford passed in this way to Roger of Breteuil; “Cui comitatus Herefordi funiculo distributionis evenit.”

The practice, in short, was so familiar that in the Glossary of Rabanus Maurus (Eckhardt, Rer. Franc. Or. ii. 963) “funiculum” is explained by lantmarcha (cf. Du Cange in “funiculus”). So Suger (c. 15, Duchèsne, iv. 296) says how the Epte “antiquo fune geometricali Francorum et Danorum concorditer metito collimitat.”

NOTE W. Vol. i. p. 337.

The Dealings of William Rufus with vacant Bishoprics and Abbeys.

The chief point to be insisted on is that the appropriation of the revenues of vacant bishoprics and abbeys by the King was an innovation of William Rufus on the suggestion of Flambard. Such a thing may possibly have happened before, though I am not prepared at this moment with an instance; but, if so, it was merely a case of the irregular way in which Church property, and all property, was often dealt with by those who had the power. It was not a logical deduction from any legal principle, such as it at once became when Flambard had established the doctrine that the greater Church benefices were fiefs held of the King by military service. The passage in the Chronicle which I have quoted at p. 348 does not say in so many words that the practice was an invention of Rufus or his minister, though the tone of the passage certainly implies that their doings were something new. Other writers speak more distinctly.

Next in authority to the Chronicler comes Eadmer, who is naturally full on the subject. He tells us in detail (Hist. Nov. 14) how Rufus dealt with the Church of Canterbury after the death of Lanfranc, speaking more lightly of other cases as being of the same kind;

“Cuncta quæ juris illius erant, intus et extra per clientes suos describi præcepit, taxatoque victu monachorum inibi Deo servientium, reliqua sub censu atque in suum dominum redigi jussit. Fecit ergo ecclesiam Christi venalem: jus in ea dominandi præ cæteris illi tribuens, qui ad detrimentum ejus in dando pretium alium superabat. Unde misera successione singulis annis pretium renovabatur. Nullam siquidem conventionem Rex stabilem esse sinebat, sed qui plura promittebat excludebat minus dantem; nisi forte ad id quod posterior offerebat, prima conventione vacuata, prior assurgeret. Videres insuper quotidie, spreta servorum Dei religione, quosque nefandissimos hominum regias pecunias exigentes per claustra monasterii torvo et minaci vultu procedere, hinc inde præcipere, minas intentare, dominationem potentiamque suam in immensum ostentare.”

He goes on to tell of the sufferings of the monks and of their lay tenants;

“Quidam ipsi ecclesiæ monachi malis ingruentibus dispersi ac missi sunt ad alia monasteria, et qui relicti multas passi tribulationes et improperia. Quid de hominibus ecclesiæ dicam qui tam vasta miseria miseraque vastatione sunt attriti, ut dubitarem, si sequentia mala non essent, an salva vita illorum possent miserius atteri.”

He then mentions the like dealings with other churches, and adds the emphatic words;

“Et quidem ipse primus hanc luctuosam oppressionem ecclesiis Dei indixit, nullatenus eam ex paterna traditione excipiens. Destitutas ergo ecclesias solus in dominio suo tenebat. Nam alium neminem præter se substituere volebat quamdiu per suos ministros aliquid quod cujusvis pretii duceret ab eis extrahere poterat.”

William of Malmesbury (iv. 314) is no less distinct as to the difference between the practice of the two Williams, and as to the agency of Flambard. Having given his character of him (see above, p. 558) he goes on;

“Hoc auctore sacri ecclesiarum honores, mortuis pastoribus, venum locati; namque audita morte cujuslibet episcopi vel abbatis, confestim clericus regis eo mittebatur, quo omnia inventa scripto exciperet, omnesque in posterum redditus fisco regio inferret. Interea quærebatur quis in loco defuncti idoneus substitueretur, non pro morum sed pro nummorum experimento; dabaturque tandem honor, ut ita dicam, nudus, magno tamen emptus.”

He then goes on to contrast in a marked way the conduct of Rufus in these matters with that of his father; “Hæc eo indigniora videbantur, quod, tempore patris, post decessum episcopi vel abbatis omnes redditus integre custodiebantur, substituendo pastori resignandi, eligebanturque personæ religionis merito laudabiles; at vero pauculis annis intercedentibus omnia immutata.”

Orderic has two passages on the subject. One of them (763 C) is a mere complaint; “Defunctis præsulibus et archimandritis satellites regis ecclesiasticas possessiones et omnes gazas invadebant, triennioque seu plus dominio regis omnino mancipabant. Sic nimirum pro cupiditate reddituum, qui regis in ærario recondebantur, ecclesiæ vacabant, necessariisque carentes pastoribus Dominicæ oves lupinis morsibus patebant.” In the other (678, 679) he distinctly speaks of Flambard’s innovation, and goes more at length into the matter than any of the other writers. He has given one of the descriptions of Flambard which has been already quoted (see p. 559); and then goes on;

“Hujus consilio juvenis rex, morientibus prælatis, ecclesias cum possessionibus olim sibi datis invasit, et tam in abbatiis cœnobitas quam in episcopiis episcopales decanos et canonicos cuilibet satellitum suorum subegit. Parcam autem ad victum suum distributionem rerum eis delegabat, et reliquos redditus suæ ditioni mancipabat. Sic avaritia regis in ecclesia Dei nimis exarsit, et nefarius mos, tunc incœptus usque in hodiernum diem perseverans, multis animabus exitio fit. Hac enim de causa cupidus rex pastores ecclesiis imponere differebat, et populus rectore et grex pastore carens lupinis dentibus patebat, et multimodarum toxicatis missilibus culparum sauciatus interibat.”

He then goes on to contrast the greediness and sacrilege of William Rufus with the bounty of the ancient kings and nobles from Æthelberht onwards. He again records and moralizes on the special innovation of Rufus with regard to the treatment of ecclesiastical properties during vacancies;

“Antequam Normanni Angliam obtinuissent, mos erat, ut dum rectores ecclesiarum obirent, episcopus cœnobiorum quæ in sua diocesi erant, res sollicite describeret et sub ditione sua, donec abbates legitime ordinarentur, custodiret. Similiter archiepiscopus episcopii res, antistite defuncto, servabat, et pauperibus vel structuris basilicarum, vel aliis bonis operibus, cum consilio domesticorum ejusdem ecclesiæ distrahebat. Hunc profecto morem Guillelmus Rufus ab initio regni sui persuasione Flambardi abolevit et metropolitanam Cantuariæ sedem sine pontifice tribus annis esse fecit ejusque redditus suis thesauris intulit. Injustum quippe videtur, omnique rationi contrarium, ut quod Deo datum est fidelium liberalitate principum, vel solertia dispensatorum ecclesiasticæ rei laudabiliter est auctum, denuo sub laicali manu retrahatur, et in nefarios sæculi usus distrahatur.”

One effect of this practice must have been to make the monks and canons of the cathedral churches specially anxious to establish their distinct property in some part of the estates of the local church, separate from the property of the bishop. Under Flambard’s system, all the estates of the church were during a vacancy seized by the King, who allowed the monks or canons only such a pittance as he thought good. When episcopal and capitular estates were divided, when the body of canons held certain estates, and each canon by himself held certain others, all in frank-almoign, the seizure into the King’s hands of the estates which the bishop held by military tenure made no difference to the incomes of the canons.

NOTE X. Vol. i. p. 354.

The Appointment of Herbert Losinga to the See of Thetford.

I have said something of the appointment of Bishop Herbert in N. C. vol. iv. p. 420. The notices in our authorities are a little puzzling. The Chronicle contains no mention of his appointment, but we read in 1094 (see p. 448) of his staff being taken from him by the King (“Herbearde Losange þam bisceop of Theotfordan his stæf benam”). This passage, of which I shall have to speak again, seems to have been misunderstood by a copyist of Florence, who, instead of his genuine text, has inserted the words which I have quoted in N. C. vol.iv. p. 420. This account would imply that Herbert bought both the bishopric for himself and the abbey for his father in 1094. Then follows a passage which is found in nearly the same words in both the works of William of Malmesbury (Gest. Reg. iv. 339; Gest. Pont. p. 151);

“Verumtamen erroneum impetum juventutis abolevit pœnitentia, Romam profectus severioribus annis; ubi loci simonicum baculum et annulum deponens, indulgentia clementissimæ sedis iterum recipere meruit. Domum vero reversus, sedem episcopalem transportavit ad insignem mercimoniis et populorum frequentia vicum nomine Nordevic, ibique monachorum congregationem instituit.”

This would place the journey to Rome after 1094. But there can be no doubt that Herbert received the bishopric in 1091, and that his repentance and journey to Rome took place between that year and 1094. He signs as bishop the charter of Osmund Bishop of Salisbury in 1091. And if any suspicion is thought to attach to that instrument, the profession rolls at Canterbury, as certified by Dr. Stubbs, are evidence enough of his consecration and his profession to a future archbishop. His consecration by Thomas of York is also recorded by T. Stubbs, Scriptt. 1707. The true story is given in another manuscript of Florence, the reading of which is given by Mr. Thorpe in a note, and in which the entry of 1094 stands thus; “Ubi etiam Herebertum, Theotfordensem episcopum, pastorali baculo privavit. Latenter enim Urbanum papam adire, et ab eo pro episcopatu quem sibi, et abbatiam quam patri suo Rotberto, ab ipso rege Willelmo mille libris emerat, absolutionem quærere voluit.” The case seems quite clear. Herbert buys the bishopric of the King; he repents, goes to Rome, and is reinvested by the Pope. The King looks on this as an insult to the royal authority and takes his staff from him. But he must have made his peace with the King within the next two years. For at the end of that time he began the translation of his see from Thetford to Norwich. The Annals of Bartholomew Cotton (Anglia Sacra, i. 397) give 1091 as the date of his appointment to Thetford, 1094 as the year of his translation to Norwich, and 1096 as the beginning of the foundation of the church of Norwich. And it appears from the local Annals of Saint Eadmund’s (Liebermann, 275) that he was acting as bishop in East-Anglia, whether by the style of Thetford or of Norwich, in 1095. I cannot help thinking that the date assigned to the translation by Bartholomew Cotton is really a confusion with the date of his temporary deprivation. In either case he ceased to be Bishop of Thetford in 1094; most likely he did not become Bishop of Norwich till 1096. It seems from the Norwich documents in Anglia Sacra (i. 397, 407; Mon. Angl. iv. 13–15) that he began to build the church of Norwich in 1096, and planted monks there in 1101. The local writers are full of panegyrics on his virtues. His letters are printed in the series called Scriptores Monastici, but they do not contain much that is of importance for our history. He has a few correspondents with English names, one of whom, Ingulf by name, was Prior of the newly founded monastery of Norwich.

A third manuscript of Florence, the text of which is printed by Mr. Thorpe in a note, seems to follow the version which was acceptable at Norwich and leaves out the deprivation in 1094; “Hoc anno [1094] venerabilis Herbertus, Theotfordensis episcopus, a Roma cum benedictione apostolica rediit: et a Willelmo rege impetravit ut sedes episcopalis in Norwicensi ecclesia firmaretur, ubi ipse, Christi juvante gratia, pulcherrimam congregationem monachorum ad honorem Sanctæ Trinitatis adunavit.”

The account in William of Malmesbury (Gesta Regum, iv. 338, 339) is evidently meant to make a striking rhetorical contrast between the unregenerate Herbert who bought the see of Thetford and the converted and sanctified Herbert who founded the church of Norwich. He becomes a special enemy of the simony which he had himself once practised; “Sicut tempore istius regis symoniæ causidicus, ita posterius propulsator invictus, neque ab aliis fieri voluit quod a se præsumptum quondam juvenili fervore indoluit.” His fuller picture in his earlier state is that he was “magnus in Anglia symoniæ fomes, abbatiam episcopatumque nummis aucupatus; pecunia scilicet regiam sollicitudinem inviscans, et principum favori non leves promissiones assibilans.” Then follow the well-known verses containing the lines

“Surgit in ecclesia monstrum, genitore Losinga.
…
“Filius est præsul, pater abbas, Symon uterque.”

William of Malmesbury (iv. 339) makes one very singular remark in recording the restoration of Herbert to his see by the Pope;

“Iterum recipere meruit; quod Romani sanctius et ordinatius censeant ut ecclesiarum omnium sumptus suis potius marsupiis serviant quam quorumlibet regum usibus militent.”

The fling at Roman greediness is in the true English style of all times; but, in the connexion in which it stands, the idea which it suggests is that Herbert, who had once bought his bishopric of the King, bought it again of the Pope.

On the name Losinga see De Rémusat, Anselme, 199; Diez, Etymologisches Wörterbuch, i. 255. It seems to come from laudare.

NOTE Y. Vol. i. p. 374.

The Letters of Anselm.

The letters of Anselm throw so much light on the events of the time, they open to us so many bits of local and personal detail, both in England and in Normandy, that we are not only thankful for the help which they give us for this period, but sometimes feel a certain grudge that we have no help of the same kind for earlier periods. Anselm’s correspondents are found in all lands and in all ranks. All his letters are of course in Latin, a tongue which must, one would think, have in many cases needed to be interpreted to those to whom the letters came. A touch or two in any natural language, whether English, French, or whatever may have been the exact form of Romance spoken at Aosta, would have been, not only a relief, but a precious source of knowledge. But for this of course we must not look in these times, whether from Anselm or from any one else.

In several places in the text I have used the letters of Anselm among my most important materials. They form one of our sources for the details of his own appointment to the archbishopric (see p. 400), while his correspondence with Cardinal Walter has given us (see p. 537, and vol. ii. p. 41) some details not found elsewhere with regard to the campaign against Robert of Mowbray. We have also had, in one of his letters to Archbishop Hugh of Lyons (iii. 24, see p. 419), Anselm’s fullest account of the questions which led to the Assembly at Rockingham. The correspondence of course goes on into the reign of Henry, and many of the letters which pass between the King and the Archbishop are in fact state papers, and are, as such, inserted by Eadmer in his history. The immediate historical value of these belongs of course to a time later than that dealt with in the present volume. But the whole series is full of matter bearing on English affairs, and on the affairs of other persons and places in which we are interested. I will therefore go on to mention some of the matters connected with our own and kindred subjects which are suggested by the letters here and there. Many are addressed to Lanfranc, Gundulf, Priors Henry and Ernulf of Canterbury, and others who play parts of more or less importance in our story. A good many are to princes of various lands, many to devout ladies, with the names of some of whom, as those of Countess Adela, the daughter of the Conqueror, and Countess Ida of Boulogne, we are already familiar. There are also the special “ladies and mothers” (dominæ et matres) of the church of Bec, who, without embracing the monastic profession, had given themselves to a devout life under the shadow of the monastery (Chronicon Beccense, Lanfranc, ed. Giles, i. 202; De Nobili Crispinorum Genere, ib. 347; Anselm, Epp. ii. 26, 51; iii. 138). These were Basilia the wife of Hugh of Gournay—​who himself, with Hugh of Meulan, the father of the famous Count Robert, became a monk at Bec—​her niece Amfrida, and Eva, the widow of William Crispin. There are also a crowd of letters to prelates, nobles, monks, nuns, and persons of all kinds, which throw incidental light on various points in the history of the time.

The close connexion between Bec and England comes out very early in the series. It is perhaps not inappropriate that the earliest mention of England concerns its money, which was so much sought after beyond sea. This is in i. 13, where a moneyer of Arras, who wishes to turn monk, but who has first to pay his debts, is sent by Anselm, not yet abbot, to Lanfranc, already archbishop, who will give him a hundred shillings of English money towards paying them. In i. 15 he writes to Henry, seemingly the future Prior of Christ Church, who was already in England, with a piece of advice which we should hardly have expected from Anselm. Being a monk, he is not to go into Italy to try to defend his sister whom a certain rich man unjustly claims as a slave or villain (“ire de Anglia in Italiam sororem tuam defendere, quam audis quemdam divitem indebitæ servituti calumniose subjicere”). (It is less unreasonable when (iii. 127) he counsels the nun Matilda not to go and visit her lay kinsfolk.) In another letter (i. 35) Anselm speaks of the number of Normans who were crossing into England, and how few of them there were whom he could trust with a letter (“Licet multi Northmanni ad Anglos transeant, paucissimi tamen sunt qui, me sciente, hoc faciant; in quibus paucissimis vix est aliquis quem nostrum legationem sine dilatione et non negligenter facturum confidam”). This is written to Maurice, a monk of Bec, who, with some others, had moved to Canterbury. Of the English monks at Bec (i. 65) I have already said something (see p. 375). When Anselm becomes abbot, and has to deal with the possessions of the monastery in England, the references to English matters naturally thicken, as in ii. 3, 4, 5, 6. This last is addressed to Richard of Clare and his wife Rohais or Rohesia, the daughter of Walter Giffard, of whose name the old commentator Picard oddly says, “insuper nomen Rohais pleno gutture personat Anglismum.” The next letter (iii. 7) shows that some of the Normans who passed into England did not always choose the best parts of our character to copy. For a monk named Henry is rebuked for drinking to excess at gild-meetings. Here an English word thrusts itself in, and we read, “audio quia in multis inordinate se agit, et maxime inbibendo, ita ut in gildis cum ebriosis bibat et cum eis inebrietur.” In ii. 9 Anselm records one of his own journeys to England, and his reception at Lyminge by Lanfranc. We have more references to his own English journeys and those of others in ii. 13, 18, 19, 26 (a most remarkable one, of which I have spoken in N. C. vol. iv. p. 440), 27, 30, 45, 46 (where he prays for the forgiveness of a runaway monk called Moses of Canterbury), 47, 53.

Anselm’s letters as archbishop are of course yet fuller of the English history of the time. The first part of the third book is wholly taken up with the correspondence following on his appointment to the archbishopric. The second letter in this book is a most remarkable letter from Anselm’s friend Osbern (see p. 374) strongly exhorting him to accept the archbishopric. He is not to set up his own will against the will of the whole English Church which calls for him as its chief;

“Ut enim in offenso dulcissimo mihi amore tuo loquar, aut cunctis, quod non credimus, meliorem te fateberis, quippe cui soli revelatum est quod universæ Anglorum ecclesiæ fas non erat revelari; aut facias necesse est quod universalis Anglorum ecclesia suadet, hoc est, ut pontificalis infulæ principatum inter beatos apostolos sustinere non renuas.”

Osbern goes on to say that Anselm has already proof enough that it is God’s will that he shall take the offered post. In so doing, he gives a vivid picture of the circumstances of the appointment and of the Red King’s momentary reform;

“Quid insignius ad te eligendum ostenderet Deus, quam, ut tu promovereris, regem triumphis nobilem, severitate cunctis formidabilem, lecto decubuisse, ad mortem usque ægrotavisse, te autem provecto, statim eundem respiravisse, convaluisse, atque ex fero et immani mitissimum pariter et mansuetissimum redditum fuisse? Quid, inquam, aut effectum dulcius, aut ad innocentiam præstantius, quam te ante lectum ægrotantis violenter pertractum, dextram aliorum dextris impudenter de sinu abstractam, sinistram, ne sororem juvaret, fortiter retentam, virgam, ceteris digitulis pertinaciter occlusis, pollici atque indici crudeliter impactam, post hæc toto corpore e terra te elevatum, episcopalibus brachiis ad ecclesiam deportatum, ibique adhuc te reclamante, et importunis nimis obsistente, Te Deum laudamus esse cantatum? Quid, inquam, vel ad divinas laudes magnificentius vel ad humana spectacula gaudentius, quam quod in tua electione, exclusis omnibus transactæ tempestatis afflictionibus, omnia ad proprii juris possessionem veluti jubileo termino cucurrerunt, dum vincti ad expeditionem, carcerati ad lucem, captivi ad libertatem, oppressi dirissimis exactorum furoribus redierint ad erectionem.”

Osbern clearly had an eye for the comic element in the amazing scene at Gloucester. He then goes on, among other things, to enlarge on the dignity of the church of Canterbury. By a bold figure, he conceives Anselm at the last day called before the judgement-seat, because he had slain thousands of men, while seeking for the safety of a few (“cur non cogitabas infinita hominum millia te occidisse, dum paucorum volebas saluti consulere”). The church of Canterbury, the bride of Christ, consecrated from the beginning by the blessing of his Apostle Peter—​the same story which we have heard at Westminster (see N. C. vol. ii. p. 511), and which is told in a slightly different, and still more daring, shape at Glastonbury—​enriched by the privileges of so many popes, and to which, saving the authority of the Roman church alone, all the other churches round about were used to look for the defence of their freedom (“ad quam, salva Romanæ et apostolicæ sedis auctoritate, omnium circa regionum ecclesiæ in suis oppressionibus confugere atque ab ea tuendæ libertatis præsidia expetere simul ac suscipere solebant”), now called on Anselm to come to the succour of her liberties, and he refused. Osbern draws out this bold metaphor at great length, and at last disposes of Anselm’s scruples about his allegiance to the Norman Duke and to the church of Bec (“præmonstravi oraculis, comprobavi miraculis; verum tu mihi prætulisti Normanniæ comitem, Deo vermem, viventi mortalem, latitudini Anglorum angustæ solitudinis nidum”). He draws largely on Canterbury legends about Laurence and Dunstan, in order to set forth that church as specially under the divine favour. He, Anselm, had been called in a special way to be their successor (“cum neque sis privata gratia exhibitus, neque mercenarius, neque Simonis discipulus, sed quem et divina vocavit electio et apostolica informavit institutio”), and that call he was bound to obey.

The word “mercenarius” in the extract just made is perhaps meant to contrast the palpable purity of Anselm’s nomination with the appointment of those bishops who, whether they actually bought their sees or not, at least received them us the reward of temporal services. There is another letter (iii. 5) from Osbern to Anselm, which is simply an earnest prayer that he will no longer put off his full admission to the archbishopric.

There are also several letters of Anselm (iii. 1, 4, 7), and one of Gundulf (iii. 3), to the monks of Bec, to which some references have already been made (see pp. 405, 406). There is also one (iii. 6) from the monks of Bec to Anselm, announcing their consent to his acceptance of the archbishopric. It describes the division in the convent, how each monk gave his vote at the call of the president, whom, from this form of words, we may suppose not to have been the prior (“omnes in unum congregati sumus, unusquisque nostrum de sua sententia ab eo qui præsidebat nominatim est requisitus”). The party which opposed Anselm’s removal is described as “suo potius quam vestro utens atque fidens consilio, ardentiori, atque, ut sibi videtur, rectiori, amoris vestri zelo.” The monk Lanfranc, nephew of the Archbishop, a person who is often mentioned in the letters, is to give Anselm a fuller account (“quæ pars alteram aut numero aut ratione præponderet, domnus Lanfrancus, qui interfuit, et omnia hic apud nos gesta sive dicta et vidit et audivit, plenissime per seipsum et sufficienter vobis dicit”). We have here a trace of that odd appeal from the “major pars” to the “sanior,” which seems so utterly to upset every notion of real election, but which is so often heard of in the ecclesiastical debates of the time. The letter of the monks however, though not very positively expressed, seems to have been taken as a release. Other letters follow, in which Anselm recommends (iii. 8) William of Montfort (see Vitæ Abbatum Beccensium, i. 313, Giles) as his successor in the abbacy, and commands the Prior Baldric to keep his place, whoever may be chosen abbot. In another letter (iii. 15) he announces to the monks his coming consecration, and tells them that the King has promised to protect all their rights in England as long as they live according to Anselm’s counsel (“Rex Anglorum vobis mandat salutem et auxilium suum et custodiam rerum vestrarum quæ sunt in sua potestate, quamdiu meo consilio agetis et vivetis. Si autem illud spreveritis, in illo proficuum non habebetis”). He writes also a letter (iii. 10) to Bishop Gilbert of Evreux, of whom we have often heard, but who in Migne’s text is strangely changed into “Eboracensis episcopus,” explaining his motives for accepting the archbishopric. He writes to the same effect (iii. 11) to Fulk Bishop of Beauvais.

Once settled in the archbishopric, Anselm has to write about other matters. The affairs of his province bring much correspondence. Thus he writes (iii. 20) to Bishop Osbern of Exeter and his canons on behalf of the monks of Battle (“monasterium quod vulgo dicitur de Batailla”), who held the church of Saint Olaf at Exeter (see N. C. vol. ii. p. 350, vol. iv. pp. 166, 406; Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 64). He urges that they may be allowed to ring their bells. In a letter (iii. 23) to Ralph Abbot of Seez, afterwards Anselm’s own successor, we get a mention of Bishop Herewald of Llandaff (see N. C. vol. ii. pp. 447, 692), who, it seems, like his brother bishop Wilfrith of Saint David’s (see p. 534), had been suspended from the episcopal office;

“De fratre illo quem dicitis esse ordinatum a quodam episcopo, quia a nobis est interdictus, hoc respondeo, quia si ordinatus est ab episcopo de Walis, qui vocatur Herewardus, nec illis ordinibus, quos ab illo accepit, nostra concessione aliquando utetur, nec ab ullo episcopo reordinari debet.”

The same letter contains Anselm’s views, not on any matter touching Norman or English history, but on a point of obvious morality which had been dealt with long ago by the singer of the Odyssey (i. 260–263);

“De altero vero fratre, qui herbas quæsivit mulieri, quibus virum suum interficeret, quamvis prope vos habeatis de hac re in Northmannia sufficiens consilium, tamen quia a me hoc petitis, nostrum negare non debeo sensum. Si monachus noster esset, et vir ille cujus morti quæsivit herbas ipsis interfectus esset, nunquam ad diaconatum per me, vel ad sacerdotium ascenderet.”

Next follows the great letter to Archbishop Hugh of Lyons, to which I have often referred; and not long after come the important letters (iii. 35, 36), of which also I have often spoken. In iii. 29 Anselm writes to Prior Henry and the rest of the monks of Christ Church—​among them Anthony, Ernulf, and Osbern, all names known to us—​charging them to leave off disputes, and to enforce holy obedience. Next (iii. 30) comes a letter to Matilda Abbess of Wilton (Wintoniensis in Migne), urging obedience to the diocesan Bishop Osmund of Salisbury. The house of Saint Werburh at Chester, in whose foundation Anselm had had a hand, comes in several times for his notice (iii. 34, 49). A crowd of letters bearing on points in the history later than our time may be passed by, but there are two very singular ones which throw a curious light on English nomenclature. In iii. 133 we have a letter thus addressed;

“Anselmus archiepiscopus amico et filio carissimo Roberto, et sororibus et filiabus suis dilectissimis Seit, Edit et Hydit, Luverim, Virgit, Godit, salutem et benedictionem Dei et suam, si quid valet.”

In the second letter, numbered in Migne iv. 110, the heading is, “Anselmus archiepiscopus, Roberto, Seyt, Edit, carissimis suis filiis, salutem et benedictionem Dei, quantum potest.” The persons addressed seem to have been devout women of some kind, living under the spiritual care of their confessor Robert. The letters tell us nothing as to the position of the persons addressed; they contain nothing but good advice which might be useful in any time or place; but the names seem to have greatly perplexed the German and French biographers of Anselm. Hasse (Anselm von Canterbury, i. 502) says, “Interessant ist besonders ein Brief an die Nonnen eines Klosters in Wales, wie es scheint,” and he adds in a note;

“Ich schliesse dies aus den Namen ‘Seit, Edit, Hydit, Luverim, Virgit, Godit’ die in der Ueberschrift genannt werden. Ob es wohl weibliche Namen sind? In dem Briefe v. 16 [iv. 110, Migne] werden nämlich dieselben Personen als filii (wenn dies nicht ein Druckfehler ist) angeredet, die hier [iii. 133, Migne] filiæ heissen. Ein celtisches Kloster war es jedenfalls; doch kann es auch in Irland oder Schottland gewesen sein.”

M. de Rémusat (S. Anselme de Cantorbéry, 177) had yet further lights;

“On suppose qu’une lettre adressée à Robert son ami et son fils très cher, et à ses sœurs et filles bien-aimées, qui, toutes, portent de bizarres noms, a pour objet d’encourager et de guider une congrégation de femmes qui, sous la direction de quelques missionnaires, essayait de se former dans une province Galloise.”

There is really something very amusing in the difficulties of these scholars over a list of people one of whom bears the very commonest of English female names at the time. M. de Rémusat at least knew the earlier name of Queen Matilda, and can bring it in where it is not to be found in his authorities. For he makes the abbess in the story of Hermann of Tournay (see vol. ii. p. , and Appendix EE) enlarge on “la beauté de la jeune Edithe,” though in that story she bears no name at all. “Godit” too, that is “Godgyth” or “Godgifu,” is clear enough; and a little knowledge of English nomenclature will carry us through most of the others, even though some of them may be rare or unique. “Seit” must he “Sigegyth,” a perfectly possible name. “Virgit” would seem to be “Wergyth,” also quite possible, while “Luverim,” which the manuscripts write in two or three ways, is surely a wild miswriting of Leofrune, of a bearer of which name we have heard something in N. C. vol. i. p. 352. “Hydit” is the only name on the list about which there can be any real difficulty; it is clearly one of the -gyth names, though it is not easy to see what the first half of the name is. It is perhaps a little odd when Anselm addresses Robert and his sisterhood as “filii” in the second letter, but the form is surely a lawful shortening of “filius et filiæ.” There is, one would think, a certain pleasing international unity in this picture of a company of Englishwomen, directed, it would seem, by a Norman priest, and so lovingly addressed by a Burgundian archbishop. Anyhow there is no need to doubt of the sex of Eadgyth and Godgyth, or to carry them off to Wales, Scotland, Ireland, or anywhere but the land of their own speech.

Anselm had other nuns and other devout women to write to and about, besides the bearers of these supposed puzzling names. There are several letters, as iii. 125, to a certain Abbess Eulalia. In iii. 70 he writes (in Henry the First’s time) to Athelis or Adeliza, Abbess of Wilton (it is again Wintonia in Migne’s text), comforting her during the banishment of William Giffard, bishop-elect of Winchester (see vol. ii. p. 349). More important is the letter (iii. 51) in which he sends the Archdeacon Stephen to hinder the abbess and nuns of Romsey from paying the worship of a saint to some person lately dead (“Tunc ex toto prohibeant ut nullus honor, qui alicui sancto exhiberi debet, exhibeatur ab illis, aut permittant ab aliquo exhiberi mortuo illi quem quidam volunt pro sancto haberi”). This reminds one of the story of Abbot Ulfcytel and the worship of Waltheof (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 598); but we need not suppose, with the old commentator in Migne, that the person worshipped was Waltheof himself. For it is added that the son of the dead man is to be driven out of the town, and Waltheof left no son. In iii. 84 he writes to Matilda, the first abbess of the house of the Trinity at Caen (see N. C. vol iv. p. 630), about her intended resignation of her abbey. On other monastic affairs there are several letters, as iii. 61, 118, about the affairs of the abbey of Saint Eadmund, whose prior bears the English name of Ælfhere. He speaks of their tribulations and the patience with which they bore them; the letters therefore most likely refer to the difficulties which followed the appointment of Abbot Robert (see p. 359). There are two letters (iii. 100, 108) addressed to a monk Ordwine, in the latter of which he is coupled with two others, Farman—​can he be the aged friend of Eadmer?--and Benjamin, which last name we should hardly have looked for. The first letter is a very important one; it deals with the subject of investitures, and distinctly shows that Anselm had no objection of his own to investiture by the King;

“Non ego prohibeo per me a rege dari investituras ecclesiarum, sed quia audivi apostolicum in magno concilio excommunicare laicos dantes illas investituras et accipientes, et qui accipientes sacrabunt, nolo communicare excommunicatis nec fieri excommunicatus.”

This letter contains also a good deal about the relations of laymen to churches as patrons or “custodes” (see p. 455, and N. C. vol. v. p. 501). In iii. 83, when already Archbishop, Anselm writes to Eustace, the father of Geoffrey a monk of Bec, at his son’s instance, rebuking him for a singular kind of bigamy. His wife, the mother of Geoffrey, had become a nun, and he himself had taken a vow; but had nevertheless married a second wife. Anselm argues that, whether he had taken a vow or not, still, though his wife had become a nun, it is unlawful for him to marry again during her lifetime. Of a more strictly domestic nature are the letters to his sister Richera or Richeza, and her husband Burgundius (iii. 63, 66, 67). Burgundius is meditating a pilgrimage to Jerusalem; and he exhorts him so to order his affairs before he goes that his wife may not lose her estate in case he dies by the way.

Anselm’s correspondence with royal and princely persons in various parts is very large. There are many letters to King Henry, in one of which (iii. 79) he cannot keep himself from the established pun on the name of Henry’s people. He prays, “Ut Deus vos et vestra sic regat et protegat in gloria temporalis regni super Anglos, quatenus in æterna felicitate regnare faciat inter angelos.”

He writes (iv. 81) a letter of rebuke to his old friend Earl Hugh, about the captivity of one monk of Clugny, and the irregular burial of another. He warns the Earl frankly; “Familiariter dico vobis, sicut homini cujus honorem et utilitatem multum amo, quia si non feceritis quod dico, inde blasphemabimini; et ego etiam si non fecero quod ecclesiastica disciplina præcipit inde fieri, a multis blasphemabor.” To his former enemy Count Robert of Meulan he writes a letter during his second exile which is given by Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 82), where the Count is addressed as “dominus et amicus;” in another (iv. 99) he is advanced to “dominus et amicus carissimus,” and is addressed as “vestra dilectio.” The subject of the letter is the endless dispute between York and Canterbury. The mention of the younger Thomas as archbishop-elect fixes the date to about 1108.

Among foreign kings and princes there is (iii. 65) a graceful letter to his native sovereign, Humbert Count and Marquess, written, it would seem, at the time of his first passing into Italy. Nearer to his Norman and English dwelling-places, we find him receiving during his exile a letter from King Philip (iv. 50) offering his sympathy and help, and praying for a visit in his dominions, chiefly for the sake of Anselm’s bodily health;

“Cæterum quia in loco corporeæ sanitati contrario exsulatis, rogamus vos quatenus Galliam nostram vestro adventu visitare dignemini, ibique affectum mentis meæ experiemini, et vestræ consuletis sanitati. Valete.”

A letter to the same effect, which must belong to Anselm’s second exile, follows from Philip’s worthier successor, Lewis (iv. 51).

Both the famous chiefs of the Cenomannian state came in for a share of Anselm’s correspondence. In iv. 11 we have one letter of Anselm to Hildebert, but it contains no historical information. There are several (iii. 53, 160, 161, 162) from Hildebert to Anselm, all theological, and in which we could have wished that the Bishop of Le Mans could have brought himself to speak more civilly of the eastern half of Christendom. More interesting is a letter (iv. 98) addressed “Domino et amico, et in Deo dilectissimo Eliæ comiti,” full of praise and affection for the noble Count, and granting him absolution for some fault not described (“Absolutionem nostram, quam per eundem fratrem, sicut ipse mihi retulit, a me petitis, et corde, et ore, et scriptura dilectioni vestræ mitto, et quotidie pro vobis oro”).

To Countess Ida of Boulogne (see pp. 374, 384) he writes as an intimate friend (iii. 56, 58). In the former of these we hear of her chaplain Lambert, who was in England in her service. He seems to have been a canon of some chapter, and to have been in danger of losing part of the income of his prebend on account of his absence. To Countess Clemence of Flanders, wife of Count Robert of Jerusalem and niece of Pope Calixtus, he writes (iii. 59), praising her and her husband, because certain abbots in Flanders are admitted without the Count’s investiture;

“Relatum mihi est quosdam abbates in Flandria sic constitutos ut comes vir vester nullam cis manu sua daret investituram. Quod sicut non sine ejus prudenti clementia ita non esse æstimo factum absque vestra clementi prudentia.” The play on the Countess’s name reminds one of King Robert and “O constantia martyrum.” In iv. 13 there is a letter to Count Robert, to the same effect as that to his wife.

But the care of Anselm extended to more distant, at least less known lands. He has two letters (iii. 142, 147) to King Murtagh in Ireland; but they deal only with the reforms needed in Murtagh’s own island. So, at a later time than ours, he writes (iii. 132) a letter to Alexander King of Scots, in which he mentions certain monks whom he had sent into Scotland at the request of the late King Eadgar, of whom he speaks most highly. When in a letter to a King of Scots we read that “quidem reges, sicut David, sancte vixerunt,” we are apt to forget that, in Alexander’s reign, the reference must still be to the King of Israel. Where such a reference would have been strictly to the merits of a predecessor, namely, in two letters to King Baldwin of Jerusalem (iv. 10, 36), it is not found; and the exhortations are very general.

Nor does Anselm forget the Scandinavian lands. He writes (iv. 92) a letter of good advice to Hakon Earl of Orkney, who had received the earldom of his father Paul after the death of Magnus of Norway. He writes about the religious ignorance of the people, which he hopes will be reformed by the bishop who had lately been sent to them. As Hakon only received his earldom in 1105, this letter must belong to the last years of Anselm’s life. The murder of Saint Magnus by Hakon, followed by the murderer’s repentant pilgrimage to Jerusalem, did not happen till after Anselm’s death (see Torfæi Orcades, p. 86, where the date of Magnus’s murder is fixed to 1110). He has two letters (iii. 143, iv. 90) about the newly-founded archbishopric of Lund in Denmark. At another end of Christendom he writes to Diacus, Bishop of Saint James of Compostella. The Spanish Bishop asks for English help against the Saracens, and he answers that England is so beset by wars at home that he fears that no help can be given.

To the Popes Urban and Paschal he naturally writes some very important letters, some of which have been already referred to. There is one (iii. 37) to Urban, in which he sets forth his strong desire to come to Rome, and alleges the wars which were raging everywhere as the cause of the King’s unwillingness to let him go.

“Quia bellis undique quatimur, hostiles impetus indesinenter et insidias adversantium metuimus, dominus noster rex extra regnum me procedere hactenus non permisit, nec adhuc procedere posse ullatenus assensit…. Sed inter hæc, quo labore, quaque anxietate gravatus, iter arripere conarer, si omnipotens Deus et in regno Anglorum bella sedaret, et in regnis et regnorum provinciis, per quas ad vos est eundum, illam pacem tribueret, quemadmodum oporteret et expediret iter ipsum explere liceret.”

This letter one would have been inclined to place in 1097; but, unless we can understand the “regnum Anglorum” as taking in Wales, the mention of wars would seem to fix it to the time of the rebellion of Robert of Mowbray in 1095, when the war did indeed affect Anselm’s movements. In the same letter he makes intercession for Fulk Bishop of Beauvais, one of the prelates to whom he had written at the time of his own appointment to the archbishopric (see iii. 11, and above, p. 576), on account of some matter which is not explained.

To Paschal he writes a most important letter (iii. 40) at some time during the short interval between Paschal’s election and William’s death; here he sets forth his own case very distinctly;

“Videbam in Anglia multa mala quorum ad me pertinebat correctio, quæ nec corrigere nec sine peccato meo tolerare poteram. Exigebat enim a me rex ut voluntatibus suis, quæ contra legem et voluntatem Dei erant, sub nomine rectitudinis assensum præberem. Nam sine sua jussione apostolicum nolebat recipi aut appellari in Anglia, nec ut epistolam ei mitterem aut ab eo missam reciperem, vel decretis ejus obedirem. Concilium non permisit celebrari in regno suo ex quo rex factus jam per tredecim annos. Terras ecclesiæ hominibus suis dabat; in omnibus his et similibus si consilium petebam, omnes de regno ejus etiam suffraganei mei episcopi negabant se consilium daturos nisi secundum voluntatem regis.”

Here we have Anselm’s grievances very clearly set forth, and without any kind of exaggeration or strong language of any kind. We may also mark the legal term “rectitudo.” He next goes on to describe the council of Winchester;

“Hæc et multa alia, quæ contra voluntatem et legem Dei sunt, videns, petii licentiam ab eo sedem adeundi apostolicam, ut inde consilium de anima mea et de officio mihi injuncto acciperem. Respondit rex me in se peccasse pro sola postulatione hujus licentiæ, et proposuit mihi ut aut de hac re, sicut de culpa, satisfacerem, et securum illum redderem ne amplius peterem hanc licentiam, nec aliquando apostolicum appellarem, aut de terra ejus cito exirem.”

He then describes the dealings of the King with the estates of the see after he was gone, and speaks of the dealings of Urban with the King, in the style in which it was perhaps becoming to speak to a Pope of the dealings of his predecessor;

“Rex, mox ut de Anglia exivi, taxato simpliciter victu et vestitu monachorum nostrorum, totum archiepiscopatum invasit et in proprios usus convertit. Monitus et rogatus a domino papa ut hoc corrigeret contempsit, et adhuc in hoc perseverat.”

He then asks the Pope that he may not be commanded to return to England, “nisi ita ut legem et voluntatem Dei et decreta apostolica voluntati hominis liceat mihi præferre: et nisi rex mihi terras ecclesiæ reddiderit, et quidquid de archiepiscopatu propter hoc quia sedem apostolicam petii, accepit.”

Presently a wholly new set of questions was opened by the accession of Henry and the second controversy. Anselm’s account, it will be seen, strictly agrees with the narrative of Eadmer, and we may again mark that he does not speak of lay investitures as a grievance. That is to say, William Rufus had not been to blame, or at least Anselm had not found out that he was to blame, for continuing the ancient custom of his kingdom. Henry was to blame because he claimed to continue that right in the teeth of the new decrees, and of the new lights which Anselm had learned from them.

NOTE Z. Vol. i. p. 395.

Robert Bloet.

There is something startling in the simple way in which the Chronicler (1093) puts together the appointment of Anselm and that of Robert Bloet; “And þæt arcebiscoprice on Cantwarbyrig, þe ær on his agenre hand stód, Anselme betæhte, se wæs ær abbot on Bǽc, and Rodbeard his cancelere þæt biscoprice on Lincolne.” Florence translates, with a word or two of explanation inserted; “Insuper Anselmo Beccensi abbati qui tunc in Anglia morabatur, Dorubernensem archiepiscopatum, et cancellario suo Rotberto, cognomento Bloet, Lindicolinensem dedit præsulatum.” But this way of speaking is quite of a piece with the small amount of notice which the Chronicler seems throughout to give to Anselm and his affairs. That is, we are used to read the story of Anselm in Eadmer in the minutest detail, and we are surprised to find his story told in the Chronicle only on the same scale as the stories of other people.

We have heard of Robert Bloet before, as one high in the confidence of both Williams, father and son (see vol. i. p. 13). As a bishop, he is one of those persons of whom William of Malmesbury wrote an account which he afterwards found it expedient to alter. In his received text (Gest. Pont. 313) he is brought in in a singular and sneering way. The writer had just recorded the death of Remigius before he was able to consecrate the minster, and he then gives this account of his successor;

“Rem dilatam successor ejus non graviter explevit, utpote qui in labores alterius delicatus intrasset; Rotberto Bloet homini nomen. Vixit in episcopatu annis paulo minus xxxᵗᵃ, decessitque procul a sede apud Wdestoche, cum regio lateri cum alio quodam episcopo adequitaret, subito fato interceptus. Cetera satis suis hilaris et parum gravis, negotiorum scientia secularium nulli secundus, ecclesiasticorum non ita. Ecclesiam cui sedit ornamentis pretiossissimis decoravit. Defuncti corpus exinteratum, ne tetris nidoribus vitiaret aerem. Viscera Egnesham, reliqua Lindocolinæ sepulta sunt. Monachos enim qui apud Stou fuerunt vivens Eglesham [Egnesham] migraverat.”

Here we have the implied picture of a bishop of the more worldly sort, and we can see that he was not in good favour with monks. But no particular fault is brought against him. But in the earlier version, the text, after the words “homini nomen,” reads, “Qui nihil unquam pensi fecerit, quominus omnis libidinis et infamis et reus esset. In cunctam religionem protervus, monachos Stou summoveri et apud Egnesham locari jussit. Gratis malus et gloriæ antecessoris invidus, a vicinis monachis sua commoda præverti causabatur. Quocirca, si monachi Egneshamnenses Dei dono pulchrum incrementum acceperint, procul illi gratias, quibus eximium se gloriabatur commodum inferre si vel illos sineret vivere.”

There is enough here to show that Robert Bloet was thoroughly disliked by the monks everywhere on account of his dealings with their brethren at Stow in removing them to Eynsham. His dislike to monks is also witnessed by the Chronicler, 1123, in recording the election of William of Corbeuil to the see of Canterbury (see N. C. vol. v. p. 236); “Ðis wæs eall ear gedon ðurh se biscop of Seresbyrig, and þurh se biscop of Lincolne, ær he wære dead, forði þet næfre ne luueden hi munece regol, ac wæron æfre togænes muneces and here regol.”

On the other hand, Robert Bloet has not been without his admirers and defenders both in his own time and since. Henry of Huntingdon, who was brought up in his court, always speaks of him with the deepest affection; and in our time he has found a gallant champion in Mr. Dimock in his preface to the seventh volume of Giraldus, pp. xxiii. et seq. Henry, like Florence, has the Chronicle before him in recording the appointments of Anselm and Robert, and he too makes (vii. 3. p. 216) his insertions. With him the passage stands thus;

“Dedit [junior Willelmus] archiepiscopatum Cantuariæ Anselmo abbati, viro sancto et venerabili. Roberto quoque cognomento Bloet cancellario suo, dedit episcopatum Lincoliæ, quo non erat alter forma venustior, mente serenior, affatu dulcior.”

Further on he records his death in 1123 (p. 244), and gives him a splendid epitaph. He is “pontificum Robertus honor,” and his special virtues fill two elegiac couplets;

“Hic humilis dives, (res mira,) potens pius, ultor

Compatiens, mitis cum pateretur erat.
Noluit esse suis dominus, studuit pater esse,
Semper in adversis murus et arma suis.”