“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 [phêmê] (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 [megalopsychos] of Aristotle (Eth. iv. 3)――ὁ

μεγάλων αὐτὸν ἀξιῶν ἄξιος ὤν [ho megalôn auton axiôn axios ôn]――though

it comes nearer to it. William of Malmesbury’s “magnanimus” is perhaps

Aristotle’s μεγαλόψυχος [megalopsychos] verging towards the χαῦνος

[chaunos]. 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

[tetyphômenos] of the New Testament (2 Tim. iii. 4), who is not unlike

William Rufus, only that he has at least a μόρφωσις ὐσεβείας

[morphôsis eusebeias]. 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.”