of the Brightlings (‘Brightlingas’) from Brightling in Sussex and
Brightlingsea in Essex. Nothing, at first sight, could seem clearer.
And yet, on turning to Domesday, we find that the Sussex Brightling
is there entered as Brislinga--suggesting that Somerset Brislington
from which Kemble deduced the Brislings--while Brightlingsea appears
in the Essex Domesday as ‘Brictriceseia,’ and in that of Suffolk
as ‘Brictesceseia,’ from which forms is clearly derived the local
pronunciation ‘Bricklesea.’ So much for the Brightlings. Yet more
striking is the case of an Essex village, Wormingford. Kemble, of
course, detects in it the name ‘Wyrmingas.’ Yet its Domesday name is
Widemondefort,’ obviously derived from ‘Widemond,’ the name of an
individual.[39] Here the corruption is so startling that it is well
to record the transition form ‘Wiremundeford,’ which I find in the
13th century.[40] Now, as I have often to point out in the course of
my historical researches, however unpopular it may be to correct the
errors of others, those errors, if uncorrected, lead too often to
fresh ones. Thus, in this case, the ‘Wyrmingas,’ wrongly deduced from
Wormingford, have been claimed by scholars as sons of the ‘worm,’
and, therefore, as evidence that ‘Totemism’ prevailed among the
Anglo-Saxons. It would take me, I fear, too far afield to discuss the
alleged traces of Totemism; but when we find Mr. Grant Allen asserting
that “the oak has left traces of his descendants at Oakington in
Cambridge” (shire), one has to point out that this place figures in
Domesday as ‘Hochinton(e)’[41] in no fewer than five entries, although
Kemble derives from it _more suo_ the ‘Æcingas.’ But a few more
instances of erroneous derivation must be given in order to establish
clearly the worthlessness of Kemble’s lists. How simple it seems to
derive, with him, the ‘Storringas’ and ‘Teorringas’ from Storrington,
Sussex, and Tarrington, Herefordshire, respectively. Yet the former,
in Domesday, is ‘Storgetune’ or ‘Storchestune,’ while the latter is
‘Tatintune’ in both its entries. It might be suggested that the error
is that of the Domesday scribe, but in this case I have found the
place entered in several documents of the next century as Tadinton
or Tatinton, thus establishing the accuracy of Domesday. Indeed, in
my experience, the charters of the 12th century prove that Domesday
nomenclature is thoroughly deserving of trust. The climax of Kemble’s
derivations is reached perhaps in Shillingstone, from which Dorset
village he duly deduces the ‘Scyllingas.’ For, as Eyton has shown,
its name was ‘Acford,’ but, from its Domesday tenant, Schelin, it
became known as Ockford Eskelling, Shilling Ockford, and finally, by
a yet bolder corruption, Shillingstone.[42] As if to make matters
worse, Kemble treats ‘Shilling-Okeford’ and ‘Shillingstone’ as two
distinct places. Could anything, one asks, be more unfortunate than
this? Alas, one must answer Yes. The great clan of the ‘Cypingas’ is
found in eight counties: at least so Kemble says. I have tested his
list and discovered that the names which prove the existence of his
clan are Chipping Ongar, Chipping Barnet, Chipping Sodbury, Chipping
Campden, Chipping Wycombe, Chipping Warden, and Chipping Norton. Even
the historical tyro would avoid this wild blunder; he would know that
Chipping was about as much of a clan name as is Cheapside. After this
final example, it can hardly be disputed that Kemble’s lists are merely
a pitfall for the unwary.
Yet we still follow in his footsteps. Take such a case as that
of Faringdon, which Mr. Grant Allen, we have seen, selected as a
typical instance of the _ing_ patronymic in place-names.[43] If we
turn to Domesday, we find in Berks a ‘Ferendone,’ in Northants a
‘Ferendone’ or ‘Faredone,’ in Notts a ‘Ferendone’ or ‘Farendune,’ in
Hants a ‘Ferendone.’ These names were all the same; and yet they have
become ‘Farndon’ in Notts and Northants, ‘Faringdon’ in Berks, and
‘Farringdon’ in Hants. Farringdon, therefore, is no more a clan name
than is the Essex Parndon, the ‘Perenduna’ of Domesday. But, indeed, in
Essex itself, there is an even better illustration. We learn from Canon
Taylor that “the Thurings, a Visigothic clan, mentioned by Marcellinus
... are found ... at Thorrington in Essex.” Kemble had previously
described them as “likely to be offshoots of the great Hermunduric
race, the Thyringi or Thoringi, now Thuringians, always neighbours
of the Saxons,[44] and claims the Essex Thorrington” as their
settlement.[45] Now Thorington in the first place was not a _ton_, and
in the second place had not an _ing_. Both these forms are corruptions.
In Domesday it occurs twice, and both times as ‘Tor_induna_.’ With
this we may compare ‘Horn_induna_,’ which is the Domesday form of
Horndon, and occurs frequently. Therefore Thorington and Thorndon,
like Farringdon and Farndon, were both originally the same name and
destitute alike of _ing_.
As to the names ending in _ing_, with no other suffix, I prefer, for
the present, to reserve my opinion. Kemble’s hypothesis, however, that
they were the parent settlements, and the _hams_ and _tons_ their
filial developments, seems to me to have little support in the facts of
their actual distribution. If in that distribution there is a feature
to be detected, it is, perhaps, that the _ings_ are found along the
foot of the downs. This, at least, is often observable. Another point
deserving of attention is that, in its French form, _igny_, this suffix
seems as distinctive of the ‘Saxon’ settlement about Bayeux as it is
absent in that which is found in the Boulogne district. But these are
only, as it were, sidelights upon the problem; and this, as I said, is
nothing more than a ‘pioneer’ paper.
I close with a point that appears to me of no small importance. To
the east of Sussex and the south of Sussex there lay that so-called
Jutish land, the county of Kent. As I pointed out years ago, in my
‘Domesday Studies,’ the land system of Kent is found in the Great
Survey to be essentially distinct from that which prevailed in other
counties. It was not assessed in ‘hides,’ but in ‘solins,’ that is,
the _sulungs_ of the natives, the land of a _suhl_ or plough. The
yokes, or subdivisions, of this unit are also directly connected
with the plough. But the hide and virgate of other counties are, as
I pointed out, not connected in name with the plough.[46] Now if we
work through the land charters printed by Professor Earle, we find
that this Domesday distinction can be traced back, clear and sharp,
to the earliest times within their ken. We read in an Anglo-Saxon
charter of “xx swuluncga,” while in Latin charters the normal phrase
is the land of so many ploughs (‘terra trium aratrorum,’ ‘terra decem
aratrorum,’ etc.); we even meet with the phrase, “decem aratrorum juxta
æstimationem provinciæ ejusdem.”[47] In another charter “v aratra”
equates “fifsulung landes.” But in other counties the normal terms, in
these charters, for the land units are “manentes” and “cassati,”[48]
which occur with similar regularity. A cleavage so ancient and so clear
as this, in the vital sphere of land division, points to more than a
separate rule and confirms the tradition of a distinct origin.
II
Ingelric the Priest and Albert of Lotharingia
In my paper on “Regenbald, Priest and Chancellor,”[49] I was able
to trace, by combining the evidence of Domesday and of charters,
the history of a “priest” of Edward the Confessor, who became the
“priest” of his successor also, and held of him rich possessions in
churches and lands. Another churchman who flourished both before and
after the Conquest, and must have enjoyed the favour both of the
Confessor and of the Conqueror, was Ingelric, first dean of the house
of St. Martin’s-le-Grand, whose lands had passed before Domesday to
Count Eustace of Boulogne. Mr. Freeman was interested in Ingelric
as a “commissioner for redemption of lands,” but only knew him as a
layman. Nor indeed is there anything in Domesday to suggest that he
was other. To Mr. W. H. Stevenson belongs the credit of proving that
he was a priest by printing “an old English charter of the Conqueror,”
confirming the foundation of St. Martin’s-le-Grand, in which the
“cujusdam fidelis mei Ingelrici scilicet peticioni adquiescens” is
equated by “æfter Ingelrices bene mines preostes.”[50] It was similarly
as “minan preoste” that William had described Regenbald.
The charter I shall now deal with was not known to Mr. Stevenson, and
has not, I believe, been printed. It is of real historical interest,
apart from the fact that among its witnesses we find Ingelric “the
priest.”
Mr. Freeman held that the reconciliation between the Conqueror and
the Abbot of Peterborough--Brand, the Englishman, whose election had
been confirmed, even after the Battle of Hastings, by the ætheling
Eadgar--was one of the earliest events after William’s coronation.[51]
To that episode I do not hesitate to assign a charter entered in the
Peterborough ‘Liber Niger’ belonging to the Society of Antiquaries. It
is a general confirmation of the abbey’s possessions, “petente abbate
Brand,”[52] and is witnessed thus:
Huic testes affuere: Aldredus Eboracensis archiepiscopus;
Wlwinus Lincoliensis episcopus; Merlesuen vicecomes; Ulf filius
Topi; Willelmus comes; Willelmus Malet; Ingelri[cus] presbyter.
Here we have first Ealdred, by whom William had been crowned; then
Wulfwig, bishop of Dorchester, here described as bishop “of Lincoln.”
The mention of Mærleswegen is of special importance, for this great
English noble had been left in charge of the North by Harold on the
eve of the Battle of Hastings, and rose in revolt against William
in the summer of 1068. Here we have evidence of his presence at
William’s court, when his movements were unknown to Mr. Freeman. We
see, moreover, that he was still sheriff (of Lincolnshire). “Ulf
filius Topi,” who appears in other Peterborough charters, had given
“Mannetorp,” Lincolnshire, and other lands to the abbey.
It is very remarkable that the Norman witnesses are only entered after
these Englishmen, although the first is “earl William,” in whom we must
see the Conqueror’s friend, William Fitz Osbern, already, apparently,
earl of Hereford. Sufficient attention has hardly been given to
this early creation or to the selection of so distant a county as
Herefordshire for William’s earldom.
In addition to this charter, there is known to me another, little later
probably, the last witness to which is entered as “Ego Ingelricus ad
hoc impetrandum obnixe studui.” This brings me to the third charter
that I shall deal with in connection with Ingelric. This is the one I
mentioned at the outset as granted by the Conqueror at his request, and
edited with so much care and learning by Mr. W. H. Stevenson. This, in
its stilted, antique form, has much in common with the one preceding,
while its style combines those of the two others. I place the three
together for comparison:
(1) Ego Willelmus dei beneficio rex Anglorum.
(2) jure hereditario Anglorum patrie effectus sum Basileus.
(3) Ego Willelmus Dei dispositione et consanguinitatis
hereditate Anglorum basileus.
Mr. Freeman looked with suspicion on this third charter, which he
termed “an alleged charter of William.”[53] His criticism that, though
dated 1068, its list of witnesses closes with the two papal legates
who visited England in 1070, is a perfectly sound one. Mr. Stevenson
ignored this difficulty in his paper; and, on my pointing it out,
still failed to explain the positive “huic constitutioni interfui”
of Cardinal John. Awkward, however, as the difficulty is, the other
attestations are so satisfactory that we must treat these as subsequent
additions rather than reject the charter.
The remarks which immediately follow are intended only for students
of what is uncouthly known as ‘diplomatic,’ a study hitherto much
neglected in England. In this charter, as printed in Mr. Stevenson’s
paper, there is appended the clause:
Scripta est hec _cartula_ anno ab incarnatione Domini
MLXVIII^o scilicet secundo anno regni mei.
A corresponding clause is found in the old English version of the text
which follows it. But in the Latin text the clause is followed by these
words:
Peracta vero est hec _donacio_[54] die Natali Domini; et
postmodum in die Pentecostes confirmata, quando Mathildis conjux
mea ... in reginam ... est consecrata.
Mr. Freeman somewhat carelessly confused the two clauses:
The charter (_sic_) is said to have been granted at the
Christmas feast of 1068 (evidently meaning 1067), and to have
been confirmed at the coronation of the queen at the following
Pentecost (iv. 726).
Mr. Stevenson follows him in this confusion, but carries it much
further. Speaking of “supplementary confirmations,” as used in
William’s chancery, he writes:
We have one in this very charter, which was executed
(_peracta_) on Christmas Day, 1068 (_i.e._ 1067), but was
afterwards confirmed on the occasion of Matilda’s coronation at
Whitsuntide, 1068. If we had the original charter, we should
probably find that the clause relating to the Whitsuntide
confirmation had been added, as in similar continental
instances, on a blank space in the charter. Ingelric was, as we
know from this grant, one of William’s clerks, and he must have
been a man of considerable influence to have obtained a diploma
from a king who was so chary in the granting of diplomata, and
to have, moreover, obtained the execution of it at so important
a ceremony as the king’s coronation, and a confirmation of it at
the queen’s coronation.[55]
In the elaborate footnotes appended to this passage there are three
points to be dealt with.
The first is “the king’s coronation” as the time when the charter was
executed. Mr. Stevenson writes:
Freeman, Norman Conquest, iv. 724, says that the date of the
charter, Christmas 1068, evidently means 1067, the date of
William’s coronation; etc.... There are good grounds, therefore,
for holding that the witnesses were spectators of William’s
coronation, which gives the charter its greatest historical
importance.[56]
But, as we have seen, it is not the fact that Mr. Freeman spoke of
Christmas 1067 as “the date of William’s coronation.” That event took
place, as all the world knows, at Christmas, 1066, and so was long
previous to this gift and charter. Mr. Stevenson’s error is a strange
one.
The second point is that of the “supplementary confirmation.” Mr.
Stevenson, referring us to the best parallel, writes:
In the case of the council (or rather _placitum_) of 1072
concerning the subjection of York to Canterbury, which, like
the charter under consideration, received a supplementary
ratification, a second text was drawn up for the later action.
I here break off to print, for convenience, the parallel clauses in
these documents side by side.
1068. 1072.
Peracta vero est hec donacio Ventilata est autem hec causa
die Natalis Domini; et postmodum prius apud Wentanam civitatem,
in die Pentecostes confirmata in Paschali solemnitate, in
quando Mathildis conjux capella regia que sita est in
mea in basilica Sancti Petri castello; Windisor, ubi et
Westmonasterii postea in villa finem accepit, in presentia
regia que vocatur in reginam Regis, episcoporum abbatum,
divino nutu est consecrata. diversorum ordinum qui
congregati erant apud curiam in
festivitate Pentecostes.[57]
Resuming now Mr. Stevenson’s note on the documents of 1072, at the
point where I broke it off, we read:
The originals of both still exist. The first, _dated at
Winchester at Whitsuntide_,[58] is validated only by the crosses
of William and his queen, the papal legate, both archbishops and
four bishops (Palæographical Society, i. fol. 170). The second
... is dated at Windsor, also at Whitsuntide, and is attested by
additional bishops, and by numerous abbots.
As the former document (A.2 of the Canterbury charters, apparently
overlooked till some twenty years ago) could not possibly be “dated
at Winchester at Whitsuntide,” one turns to the text as given by the
Palæographical Society, only to find that these words are sheer
imagination on Mr. Stevenson’s part. There is nothing of the kind to be
found there. Owing to this incomprehensible error, he has altogether
misunderstood these “supplementary confirmations.” The clauses I have
printed side by side must not be broken up. The earlier, like the
later, is a consistent whole, added at one time.[59]
When, then, was the “Ingelric” charter actually drawn up? Mr.
Stevenson, following, we have seen, Mr. Freeman’s loose expressions,
tells us that “as the present charter (_sic_) was _peracta_ at
Christmas, 1067, and _confirmata_ at Whitsuntide, it was most probably
written at the former date.” But it was the “donacio,” _not_ the
“charter,” which was “peracta” at Christmas. The text only tells us
of the _charter_ that it was _written_ “anno ab incarnacione Domini
MLXVIII^o.” My own view is that the charter was written not at
Christmas, 1067 (which was the date of the act of gift), but at (or
after) Whitsuntide, 1068. I base this conclusion on the first three
witnesses:
Ego Willelmus rex Anglorum, etc.
Ego Mathildis regina consensum præbui.
Ego Ricardus regis filius annui.
Matilda was not “queen” till Whitsuntide, 1068, and was not even in
England at Christmas, 1067. If it be urged that, even though found
in this position, her name was interpolated afterwards, I reply
that the name of William’s eldest son, Robert, would then have been
similarly added. The fact that we find, instead, his second son,
Richard (afterwards killed while hunting in the New Forest) is to me
the strongest possible evidence that Robert had remained behind, as
regent, in Normandy when his mother came over to England to be crowned.
The most probable date, therefore, for the execution of this charter
is that of her coronation at Westminster, 1068. It preserves for us,
in that case, the names of the magnates present on that occasion,
including Hugh bishop of Lisieux, who may well have escorted her from
Normandy, and thus have attended the ceremony.[60].
My third point follows as a corollary from this conclusion. For if the
charter was drawn up at Whitsuntide, 1068, not at Christmas, 1067,
there is an end of Mr. Stevenson’s argument and conclusion:
The 25th December in the second year of William’s reign was in
1067 according to our reckoning. But the old system of reckoning
the year “ab Incarnatione” began the year on 25th December.
This was the old English system, and this charter proves that
William’s chancery also commenced the year at the Nativity.[61]
The time spent on this important charter has not been wasted. We have
found that one who stands in the front rank of English philologists,
and for whom the same would, doubtless, be claimed in “diplomatic,” may
arrive, in spite of great learning, at quite erroneous conclusions,
simply from inexact treatment of the evidence before him.
A word more on Ingelric. According to Mr. Freeman, “that Ingelric
was an Englishman seems plain.”[62] Mr. Stevenson, however, who has
specially studied the subject of personal names, holds that this was
Frankish. The St. Martin’s charter specially speaks of his having
acquired his lands under Edward the Confessor. Mr. Stevenson, however,
goes further, and states, as we have seen, that it proves him to have
been “one of William’s clerks” (_sic_); and he argues that “if he was
a chancery clerk, he may have continued the traditions of Edward’s
chancery.” It is remarkable, however, that in an Exeter charter (1069)
to which Mr. Stevenson refers us, he again attests, as in two of the
charters dealt with above, as “Ingelricus _presbyter_.” I have chosen,
therefore, for this paper the style “Ingelric the priest.”
* * * * *
No question of origin can arise in the case of a third personage, who
also enjoyed the favour both of Edward and of his successor, namely,
Albert of Lotharingia. Known hitherto as having, it is supposed, given
its name to Lothbury--for the “Terra Alberti Loteringi” is mentioned
in the list of London wards _temp._ Henry I.[63]--he occurs in many
places on the pages of Domesday. As “Albertus Lothariensis” we find
him a tenant-in-chief in the counties of Herefordshire and Beds (186,
216_b_2), one of his manors in the latter county having been held by
him, we read, under Edward the Confessor; and he also occurs by the
same style as holding under the latter king at Hatton, Middlesex
(129). But, so far, there is nothing to show that Albert was a cleric.
It is a Westminster Abbey charter that supplies the missing clue:
Willelmus rex Anglorum Francis et Anglis salutem. Sciatis
me dedisse Sancto Petro Westmonasterii et abbati Gilleberto
ecclesias de Roteland et terras pertinentes ad easdem ecclesias
sicut Albertus Lotharingius de me tenebat ipsas ecclesias cum
omnibus pertinentibus ad ipsas. Teste Hugone de Portu.[64]
Turning to “Roteland” in Domesday, we find that the last name in the
list of its tenants-in-chief is that of “Albertus clericus,” who
holds the churches of Oakham, Hambleton, and St. Peter’s, Stamford,
“cum adjacentibus terris eisdem ecclesiis ... de rege,” the whole
forming a valuable estate. Again, we read under Stamford: “Albertus
unam æcclesiam Sancti Petri cum duabus mansionibus et dimidia carucata
terre quæ jacet in Rotelande in Hemeldune; valet x sol.” (336 _b_).
Following up this clue, we recognise our man in the “Albertus clericus”
who holds at “Eddintone,” in Surrey (30, 36 _b_), and doubtless also
in “Albertus clericus” who held land as an under-tenant at Windsor (56
_b_). Nay, it is difficult to resist the conclusion that he is also the
“Albertus capellanus” who, at the end of the Kent Domesday (14 _b_),
has a page all to himself as tenant-in-chief of Newington. Thus in the
official index to Domesday we find Albert entered under “clericus,”
“Lothariensis,” “Albertus,” and (probably) “capellanus,” and yet, in
each case, it is the same man. Regenbald, exactly in the same way,
is entered under ‘Cirecestre,’ ‘presbyter’ and ‘Reinbaldus.’ In my
‘Feudal England’ I have similarly identified (p. 167) “Eustachius,”
one tenant-in-chief, with “Eustachius vicecomes,” another (and with
“Eustachius,” an under-tenant),[65] and “Oger,” a Northamptonshire
tenant-in-chief, with Oger “Brito,” a Lincolnshire one (p. 220). In the
Eastern counties the Breton founder of the house of Helion is similarly
indexed under ‘Britto’ for Essex, ‘Herion’ for Suffolk, and ‘Tehelus’
for Norfolk. Small as these points may seem, their ultimate consequence
is great, for they still further reduce the number of tenants-in-chief.
When the history of these magnates is more fully known, it will
probably be found that those who held _in capite per servitium
militare_, thus excluding, of course, mere serjeants, etc., were a mere
handful compared with the vast total given by Ellis and others.
Albert’s Lotharingian origin becomes of special interest now that we
know he was a cleric, for Mr. Freeman devoted a special appendix to
“Lotharingian churchmen under Edward.”[66] Unfortunately he was not
acquainted with the case of Albert. Dr. Stubbs also has dwelt on the
importance, for the church, of “the increased intercourse with the
empire, and especially with Lorraine,” under Edward the Confessor.[67]
He alludes, without committing himself to it, to Mr. Freeman’s somewhat
fanciful theory on the subject.
III
Anglo-Norman Warfare
Having devoted special study to the art of war in the Norman period,
including therein the subject of castles, I may have, perhaps, some
claim to deal with the latest work on a topic which requires for
its treatment special knowledge. When a treatise assumes a definite
character, and is likely to be permanently consulted, it calls for
closer criticism than a mere ephemeral production, and on this ground
I would here discuss some points in Mr. Oman’s ‘History of the Art of
War’ (1898).
Mr. Oman issued, so far back as 1885, ‘The Art of War in the Middle
Ages,’ so that he enjoys, on this subject, the advantage of prolonged
study. In 1894 he contributed to ‘Social England’[68] an article on
“Norman Warfare,” to which I shall also refer. I should add that in his
first (1885), as in his later work (1898), Mr. Oman received the help
of Mr. F. York Powell, now Regius Professor of Modern History at Oxford.
The first point I propose to consider is that of the famous English
“formation” before the Norman Conquest. Mr. Oman originally wrote as
follows:
The tactics of the English axemen were those of the column;
arranged in a compact mass, they could beat off almost any
attack, and hew their way through every obstacle (‘Art of War,’
p. 24).
This was also the view of the late Professor Freeman, who wrote of the
battle of Maldon that--
The English stood, as at Senlac, in the array common to them
and their enemies--a strong line, or rather wedge of infantry,
forming a wall with their shields.
At the battle of Hastings (“Senlac”) itself he tells us--
The English clave to the old Teutonic tactics. They fought on
foot in the close array of the shield wall.
They were ranged, he held, “closely together in the thick array of
the shield wall.” He had well observed that “the Norman writers
were specially struck with the close array of the English,” and had
elsewhere spoken of “the close array of the battle-axe men,” and of
“the English house-carls with their ... huge battle axes,” accustomed
to fight in “the close array of the shield wall.”[69]
To this formation, it is necessary to observe, the term _testudo_
was applied. At the battle of Ashdown, Freeman wrote:
Asser calls it a _testudo_ or tortoise. This is the shield
wall, the famous tactic of the English and Danes. We shall hear
of it in all the great battles down to the end.
Florence adopts the same word in describing the formation of the rival
hosts on that occasion:
Pagani in duas se turmas dividentes, æquali _testudine_
bellum parant (i. 83).
Ælfred ... Christianas copias contra hostiles exercitus ...
dirigens ... _testudine_ ordinabiliter condensata (i. 84).
So, too, at the battle of Ethandun:
Ubi contra Paganorum exercitum universum cum densa
_testudine_ atrociter belligerans (i. 96).
Again, in 1052:
Pedestris exercitus ... spissam terribilemque fecit
_testudinem_.
This is an exact description of the host that faced the Normans,
fourteen years later, on the hill of Battle. As William of Malmesbury
describes it: