of the Danes, being impatient of quiet, sent his son Canute twice
into England; first with three hundred, and then with two hundred,
ships. His associate in the former expedition was Osbern, the brother
of Sweyn; in the latter, Hacco: but, being each of them bribed, they
frustrated the young man’s designs, and returned home without effecting
their purpose. In consequence, becoming highly disgraced by king
Sweyn for bartering their fidelity for money, they were driven into
banishment. Sweyn, when near his end, bound all the inhabitants by
oath, that, as he had fourteen sons, they should confer the kingdom
on each of them in succession, as long as his issue remained. On his
decease, his son Harold succeeded for three years: to him Canute, whom
his father had formerly sent into England. Remembering his original
failure, he prepared, as we have heard, more than a thousand vessels
against England: his father-in-law, Robert Friso, the possessor of
six hundred more, supporting him. But being detained, for almost
two years, by the adverseness of the wind, he changed his design,
affirming, that it must be by the determination of God, that he
could not put to sea: but afterwards, misled by the suggestions of
some persons, who attributed the failure of their passage to the
conjurations of certain old women, he sentenced the chiefs, whose
wives were accused of this transgression, to an intolerable fine;
cast his brother, Olave, the principal of the suspected faction into
chains, and sent him into exile to his father-in-law. The barbarians,
in consequence, resenting this attack upon their liberty, killed him
while in church, clinging to the altar, and promising reparation.
They say that many miracles were shown from heaven at that place;
because he was a man strictly observant of fasting and almsgiving,
and pursued the transgressors of the divine laws more rigorously than
those who offended against himself; from which circumstance, he was
consecrated a martyr by the pope of Rome. After him, the murderers,
that they might atone for their crime by some degree of good, redeemed
Olave from captivity, for ten thousand marks. After ignobly reigning
during eight years, he left the government to his brother Henry:
who living virtuously for twenty-nine years, went to Jerusalem, and
breathed his last at sea. Nicholas, the fifth in the sovereignty, still
survives.[321]
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1085.] ROBERT GUISCARD.]
The king of Denmark then, as I have said, was the only obstacle to
William’s uninterrupted enjoyment: on whose account he enlisted such an
immense multitude of stipendiary soldiers out of every province on this
side the mountains, that their numbers oppressed the kingdom. But he,
with his usual magnanimity, not regarding the expense, had engaged even
Hugo the Great, brother to the king of France, with his bands to serve
in his army. He was accustomed to stimulate and incite his own valour,
by the remembrance of Robert Guiscard; saying it was disgraceful to
yield, in courage, to him whom he surpassed in rank. For Robert, born
of middling parentage in Normandy, that is, neither very low nor very
high, had gone, a few years before William’s arrival in England, with
fifteen knights, into Apulia, to remedy the narrowness of his own
circumstances, by entering into the service of that inactive race
of people. Not many years elapsed, ere, by the stupendous assistance
of God, he reduced the whole country under his power. For where his
strength failed, his ingenuity was alert: first receiving the towns,
and after, the cities into confederacy with him. Thus he became so
successful, as to make himself duke of Apulia and Calabria; his brother
Richard, prince of Capua; and his other brother, Roger, earl of Sicily.
At last, giving Apulia to his son Roger, he crossed the Adriatic with
his other son Boamund, and taking Durazzo, was immediately proceeding
against Alexius, emperor of Constantinople, when a messenger from
pope Hildebrand stopped him in the heat of his career. For Henry,
emperor of Germany, son of that Henry we have before mentioned, being
incensed against the pope, for having excommunicated him on account of
the ecclesiastical investitures, led an army against Rome; besieged
it; expelled Hildebrand, and introduced Guibert of Ravenna. Guiscard
learning this by the letter of the expelled pope, left his son Boamund,
with the army, to follow up his designs, and returned to Apulia; where
quickly getting together a body of Apulians and Normans, he proceeded
to Rome. Nor did Henry wait for a messenger to announce his approach;
but, affrighted at the bare report, fled with his pretended pope. Rome,
freed from intruders, received its lawful sovereign; but soon after
again lost him by similar violence. Then too, Alexius, learning that
Robert was called home by the urgency of his affairs, and hoping to
put a finishing hand to the war, rushed against Boamund, who commanded
the troops which had been left. The Norman youth, however, observant
of his native spirit, though far inferior in number, turned to flight,
by dint of military skill, the undisciplined Greeks and the other
collected nations. At the same time, too, the Venetians, a people
habituated to the sea, attacking Guiscard, who having settled the
object of his voyage was now sailing back, met with a similar calamity:
part were drowned or killed, the rest put to flight. He, continuing his
intended expedition, induced many cities, subject to Alexius, to second
his views. The emperor took off, by crime, the man he was unable to
subdue by arms: falsely promising his wife an imperial match. By her
artifices, he drank poison,[322] which she had prepared, and died;
deserving, had God so pleased, a nobler death: for he was unconquerable
by the sword of an enemy, but fell a victim to domestic treachery. He
was buried at Venusium in Apulia, having the following epitaph:
Here Guiscard lies, the terror of the world,
Who from the Capitol Rome’s sovereign hurl’d.
No band collected could Alexis free,
Flight only; Venice, neither flight nor sea.
And since mention has been made of Hildebrand, I shall relate some
anecdotes of him, which I have not heard trivially, but from the sober
relation of a person who would swear that he had learned them from the
mouth of Hugo abbat of Clugny; whom I admire and commend to notice,
from the consideration, that he used to declare the secret thoughts of
others by the prophetic intuition of his mind. Pope Alexander, seeing
the energetic bent of his disposition, had made him chancellor[323] of
the holy see. In consequence, by virtue of his office, he used to go
through the provinces to correct abuses. All ranks of people flocked
to him, requiring judgment on various affairs; all secular power was
subject to him, as well out of regard to his sanctity as his office.
Whence it happened, one day, when there was a greater concourse on
horseback than usual, that the abbat aforesaid, with his monks, was
gently proceeding in the last rank; and beholding at a distance the
distinguished honour of this man, that so many earthly rulers awaited
his nod, he was revolving in his mind sentiments to the following
effect: “By what dispensation of God was this fellow, of diminutive
stature and obscure parentage, surrounded by a retinue of so many
rich men? Doubtless, from having such a crowd of attendants, he was
vain-glorious, and conceived loftier notions than were becoming.”
Scarcely, as I have said, had he imagined this in his heart, when the
archdeacon, turning back his horse, and spurring him, cried out from
a distance, beckoning the abbat, “You,” said he, “you have imagined
falsely, wrongly deeming me guilty of a thing of which I am innocent
altogether; for I neither impute this as glory to myself, if glory
that can be called which vanishes quickly, nor do I wish it to be so
imputed by others, but to the blessed apostles, to whose servant it is
exhibited.” Reddening with shame, and not daring to deny a tittle, he
replied only, “My lord, I pray thee, how couldst thou know the secret
thought of my heart which I have communicated to no one?” “All that
inward sentiment of yours,” said he, “was brought from your mouth to my
ears, as though by a pipe.”
Again, entering a country church, in the same province, they prostrated
themselves before the altar, side by side. When they had continued
their supplications for a long period, the archdeacon looked on the
abbat with an angry countenance. After they had prayed some time
longer, he went out, and asking the reason of his displeasure, received
this answer, “If you love me, do not again attack me with an injury of
this kind; my Lord Jesus Christ, beautiful beyond the sons of men, was
visibly present to my entreaties, listening to what I said and kindly
looking assent; but, attracted by the earnestness of your prayer,
he left me and turned to you. I think you will not deny it to be a
species of injury to take from a friend the author of his salvation.
Moreover, you are to know that mortality of mankind and destruction
hang over this place; and the token by which I formed such a conclusion
was my seeing the angel of the Lord standing upon the altar with a
naked sword, and waving it to and fro: I possess a more manifest proof
of the impending ruin, from the thick, cloudy air which, as you see,
already envelopes that province. Let us make haste to escape, then,
lest we perish with the rest.” Having said this, they entered an inn
for refreshment; but, as soon as food was placed before them, the
lamentations of the household took away their famished appetites: for
first one, and then another, and presently many of the family suddenly
lost their lives by some unseen disaster. The contagion then spreading
to the adjoining houses, they mounted their mules, and departed, fear
adding wings to their flight.
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1085.] OF POPE GREGORY VII.]
Hildebrand had presided for the pope at a council in Gaul, where many
bishops being degraded, for having formerly acquired their churches by
simony, gave place to better men. There was one, to whom a suspicion
of this apostacy attached, but he could neither be convicted by any
witnesses, nor confuted by any argument. When it was supposed he
must be completely foiled, still like the slippery snake he eluded
detection; so skilled was he in speaking, that he baffled all. Then
said the archdeacon, “Let the oracle of God be resorted to, let man’s
eloquence cease; we know for certain that episcopal grace is the gift
of the Holy Spirit, and that whosoever purchases a bishopric, supposes
the gift of the Holy Ghost may be procured by money. Before you then,
who are assembled by the will of the Holy Ghost, let him say, ‘Glory be
to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,’ and if he shall
speak it articulately, and without hesitation, it will be manifest to
me that he has obtained his office, not by purchase, but legally.”
He willingly accepted the condition, supposing nothing less than any
difficulty in these words; and indeed he perfectly uttered, “Glory be
to the Father, and to the Son,” but he hesitated at the “Holy Ghost.”
A clamour arose on all sides, but he was never able, by any exertion,
either at that time or for the remainder of his life, to name the Holy
Spirit. The abbat so often mentioned was a witness of this miracle;
who taking the deprived bishop with him into different places, often
laughed at the issue of the experiment. Any person doubting the
certainty of this relation, must be confuted by all Europe, which is
aware that the numbers of the Clugniac order were increased by this
abbat.
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1085.] DESIDERIUS--VICTOR--ODO.]
On the death of Alexander, therefore, Hildebrand, called Gregory the
Seventh, succeeded.[324] He openly asserted what others had whispered,
excommunicating those persons who, having been elected, should receive
the investiture[325] of their churches, by the ring and staff, through
the hands of the laity. On this account Henry, emperor of Germany,
being incensed that he should so far presume without his concurrence,
expelled him from Rome, as I observed, after the expiration of eleven
years, and brought in Guibert. Not long after, the pope, being seized
with that fatal disease which he had no doubt would be mortal, was
requested by the cardinals to appoint his successor; referring him
to the example of St. Peter, who, in the church’s earliest infancy,
had, while yet living, nominated Clement. He refused to follow this
example, because it had anciently been forbidden by councils: he would
advise, however, that if they wished a person powerful in worldly
matters, they should choose Desiderius, abbat of Cassino, who would
quell the violence of Guibert successfully and opportunely by a
military force; but if they wanted a religious and eloquent man, they
should elect Odo bishop of Ostia. Thus died a man, highly acceptable
to God, though perhaps rather too austere towards men. Indeed it is
affirmed, that in the beginning of the first commotion between him
and the emperor, he would not admit him within his doors, though
barefooted, and carrying shears[326] and scourges, despising a man
guilty of sacrilege, and of incest with his own sister. The emperor,
thus excluded, departed, vowing that this repulse should be the death
of many a man. And immediately doing all the injury he was able to the
Roman see, he excited thereby the favourers of the pope, on every side,
to throw off their allegiance to himself; for one Rodulph, revolting at
the command of the pope, who had sent him a crown in the name of the
apostles, he was immersed on all sides in the tumult of war. But Henry,
ever superior to ill fortune, at length subdued him and all others
faithlessly rebelling. At last, driven from his power, not by a foreign
attack, but the domestic hatred of his son, he died miserably. To
Hildebrand succeeded Desiderius, called Victor, who at his first mass
fell down dead, though from what mischance is unknown; the cup, if it
be possible to credit such a thing, being poisoned. The election then
fell upon Odo, a Frenchman by birth, first archdeacon of Rheims, then
prior of Clugny, afterwards bishop of Ostia, lastly pope by the name of
Urban.
Thus far I shall be pardoned, for having digressed, as from the mention
of William’s transactions, some things occurred which I thought it
improper to omit: now, the reader, who is so inclined, shall learn
the more common habits of his life, and his domestic manners. Above
all then, he was humble to the servants of God; affable to the
obedient; inexorable to the rebellious. He attended the offices of
the Christian religion, as much as a secular was able; so that he
daily was present at mass, and heard vespers and matins. He built
one monastery in England, and another in Normandy; that at Caen[327]
first, which he dedicated to St. Stephen, and endowed with suitable
estates, and most magnificent presents. There he appointed Lanfranc,
afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, abbat: a man worthy to be compared
to the ancients, in knowledge, and in religion: of whom it may be
truly said, “Cato the third is descended from heaven;” so much had an
heavenly savour tinctured his heart and tongue; so much was the whole
Western world excited to the knowledge of the liberal arts, by his
learning; and so earnestly did the monastic profession labour in the
work of religion, either from his example, or authority. No sinister
means profited a bishop in those days; nor could an abbat procure
advancement by purchase. He who had the best report for undeviating
sanctity, was most honoured, and most esteemed both by the king and
by the archbishop. William built another monastery near Hastings,
dedicated to St. Martin, which was also called Battle, because there
the principal church stands on the very spot, where, as they report,
Harold was found in the thickest heaps of the slain. When little more
than a boy, yet gifted with the wisdom of age, he removed his uncle
Malger, from the archbishopric of Rouen. He was a man not ordinarily
learned, but, through his high rank, forgetful of his profession,
he gave too much attention to hunting and hawking; and consumed the
treasures of the church in riotous living. The fame of this getting
abroad, he never, during his whole life-time, obtained the pall,
because the holy see refused the distinction of that honour, to a man
who neglected his sacred office. Wherefore being frequently cited, his
nephew reprehending his offences, and still conducting himself in the
same manner, he was, from the urgency of the case, ultimately degraded.
Some report that there was a secret reason for his being deprived: that
Matilda, whom William had married, was very nearly related to him:
that Malger, in consequence, through zeal for the Christian faith,
could not endure that they should riot in the bed of consanguinity;
and that he hurled the weapon of excommunication against his nephew,
and his consort: that, when the anger of the young man was roused by
the complaints of his wife, an occasion was sought out, through which
the persecutor of their crime might be driven from his see: but that
afterwards, in riper years, for the expiation of their offence, he
built the monastery to St. Stephen at Caen; and she also one, in the
same town, to the Holy Trinity;[328] each of them choosing the inmates
according to their own sex.
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1085.] MAURILIUS RETURNS FROM THE DEAD.]
To Malger succeeded Maurilius of Feschamp; a monk commendable for
many virtues, but principally for his abstinence. After a holy and
well-spent life, when he came, by the call of God, to his end, bereft
of vital breath, he lay, as it were, dead for almost half a day.
Nevertheless, when preparation was made to carry him into the church,
recovering his breath, he bathed the by-standers in tears of joy, and
comforted them, when lost in amazement, with this address: “Let your
minds be attentive while you hear the last words of your pastor. I have
died a natural death, but I am come back, to relate to you what I have
seen; yet shall I not continue with you long, because it delights me to
sleep in the Lord. The conductors of my spirit were adorned with every
elegance both of countenance and attire; the gentleness of their speech
accorded with the splendour of their garments; so much so, that I
could wish for nothing more than the attentions of such men. Delighted
therefore with their soothing approbation, I went, as it appeared to
me, towards the east. A seat in paradise was promised me, which I was
shortly to enter. In a moment, passing over Europe and entering Asia,
we came to Jerusalem; where, having worshipped the saints, we proceeded
to Jordan. The residents on the hither bank joining company with my
conductors, made a joyful party. I was now hastening to pass over
the river, through longing desire to see what was beyond it, when my
companions informed me, that God had commanded, that I must first be
terrified by the sight of the demons; in order that the venial sins,
which I had not wiped out by confession, might be expiated, by the
dread of terrific forms. As soon as this was said, there came opposite
to me, such a multitude of devils, brandishing pointed weapons, and
breathing out fire, that the plain appeared like steel, and the air
like flame. I was so dreadfully alarmed at them, that had the earth
clave asunder, or the heaven opened, I should not have known whither
to have betaken myself for safety. Thus panic-struck, and doubting
whither to go, I suddenly recovered my life, though instantaneously
about to lose it again, that by this relation I might be serviceable to
your salvation, unless you neglect it:” and almost as soon as he had
so said, he breathed out his soul. His body, then buried under ground,
in the church of St. Mary, is now, by divine miracle, as they report,
raised up more than three feet above the earth.
Moreover, William, following up the design he had formerly begun in
Normandy, permitted Stigand, the pretended and false archbishop, to
be deposed by the Roman cardinals and by Ermenfred bishop of Sion.
Walkelin succeeded him at Winchester, whose good works, surpassing
fame, will resist the power of oblivion, as long as the episcopal see
shall there continue: in Kent succeeded Lanfranc, of whom I have before
spoken, who was, by the gift of God, as resplendent in England,
As Lucifer, who bids the stars retire,
Day’s rosy harbinger with purple fire;
so much did the monastic germ sprout by his care, so strongly grew
the pontifical power while he survived. The king was observant of his
advice in such wise, that he deemed it proper to concede whatever
Lanfranc asserted ought to be done. At his instigation also was
abolished the infamous custom of those ill-disposed people who used
to sell their slaves into Ireland. The credit of this action, I know
not exactly whether to attribute to Lanfranc, or to Wulstan bishop of
Worcester; who would scarcely have induced the king, reluctant from the
profit it produced him, to this measure, had not Lanfranc commended it,
and Wulstan, powerful from his sanctity of character, commanded it by
episcopal authority: Wulstan, than whom none could be more just; nor
could any in our time equal him in the power of miracles, or the gift
of prophecy: of which I propose hereafter to relate some particulars,
should it meet his most holy approbation.
But since the die of fortune is subject to uncertain casts, many
adverse circumstances happened during those times. There was a
disgraceful contention[329] between the abbat of Glastonbury and his
monks; so that after altercation they came to blows. The monks being
driven into the church, bewailed their miseries at the holy altar. The
soldiers, rushing in, slew two of them, wounded fourteen, and drove
away the rest. Nay the rage of the military had even bristled the
crucifix with arrows. The abbat, rendered infamous by such a criminal
outrage, was driven into exile during the whole of the king’s life;
but, upon his decease, he was restored to his honours, a sum of money
being paid to such as interceded for him, for the expiation of his
transgression.
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1080.] BISHOP WALKER MURDERED.]
Again, a cruel and ignominious end overtook Walker bishop of Durham,
whom the Northumbrians, a people ever ripe for rebellion, throwing off
all respect for his holy orders, put to death, after having severely
insulted him. A considerable number of Lorrainers were killed there
also, for the bishop was of that country. The cause of the murder was
this. The bishop, independently of his see, was warder[330] of the
whole county: over public business he had set his relation Gilbert,
and over domestic, the canon Leobin; both men of diligence in their
respective employments, but rash. The bishop endured their want of
moderation in this respect, out of regard to their activity; and,
as he had placed them in office, treated them with great kindness.
“For our nature ever indulges itself, and favourably regards its own
kind works.” This Leobin caused Liwulph, a servant so dearly beloved
by St. Cuthbert that the saint himself used to appear to him, even
when waking, and prescribe his decisions; him, I say, he caused to
be killed by Gilbert; smitten with envy at his holding the higher
place in the prelate’s esteem for his knowledge and equity in legal
determinations. Walker, terrified with this intelligence, offered the
furious family of the deceased the result of a legal inquiry,[331]
affirming that Leobin would be the cause of his death and of that of
his friends. When the matter came to a trial, this ferocious race of
people were not to be soothed by reasons of any kind; on the contrary,
they threw the whole blame on the bishop, because they had seen both
the murderers familiarly entertained in his court after the death of
Liwulph. Hence arose clamour and indignation, and Gilbert, as he was
of his own accord, going out of the church, where he had been sitting
with the bishop, that he might, at his personal peril, save the life of
his master, was impiously slain. The bishop, while making overtures of
peace before the gates, next glutted the rage of the people with his
blood; the fomenter of the crime, too, Leobin, was half-burnt, as he
would not quit the church till it was set on fire, and when he rushed
out he was received on a thousand spears. This had been predicted by
Edgitha, relict of king Edward; for when she had formerly seen Walker,
with his milk-white hair, rosy countenance, and extraordinary stature,
conducted to Winchester to be consecrated; “We have here,” said she, “a
noble martyr:” being led to form such a presage by reflecting on the
mutinous disposition of that people. To him succeeded William, abbat of
St. Carilef, who established monks at Durham.
Moreover, the year before the king’s death, there was a mortality
both among men and cattle, and severe tempests, accompanied with such
thunder and lightning, as no person before had ever seen or heard. And
in the year he died, a contagious fever destroyed more than half the
people; indeed the attack of the disease killed many, and then, from
the unseasonableness of the weather, a famine following, it spread
universally and cut off those whom the fever had spared.
In addition to his other virtues he, more especially in early youth,
was observant of chastity; insomuch that it was very commonly reported
that he was impotent. Marrying, however, at the recommendation of the
nobility, he conducted himself, during many years, in such wise, as
never to be suspected of any criminal intercourse. He had many children
by Matilda, whose obedience to her husband and fruitfulness in children
excited in his mind the tenderest regard for her, although there are
not wanting persons who prate about his having renounced his former
chastity; and that, after he had acceded to the royal dignity, he was
connected with the daughter of a certain priest, whom the queen caused
to be removed, by being hamstrung by one of her servants; on which
account he was exiled, and Matilda was scourged to death with a bridle.
But I esteem it folly to believe this of so great a king; though I
decidedly assert that a slight disagreement arose between them, in
latter times, on account of their son Robert, whom his mother was said
to supply with a military force out of her revenues. Nevertheless, he
proved that his conjugal affection was not in the least diminished by
this circumstance, as he buried her with great magnificence, on her
death, four years before his own; and weeping most profusely for many
days showed how keenly he felt her loss: moreover, from that time, if
we give credit to report, he refrained from every gratification. The
queen[332] was buried at Caen, in the monastery of the Holy Trinity.
The same proof of regard was evident in the care he took of the funeral
of queen Edgitha; who, placed by his attention near her husband at
Westminster, has a tomb richly wrought with gold and silver.
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1083.] OF KING WILLIAM’S CHILDREN.]
His sons were Robert, Richard, William, and Henry, The two last reigned
after him successively in England: Robert, irritated that Normandy
was refused him during his father’s life-time, went indignantly to
Italy, that by marrying the daughter of Boniface the marquis, he might
procure assistance in those parts, to oppose the king: but failing of
this connexion, he excited Philip king of France against his father.
Wherefore, disappointed of his paternal blessing and inheritance, at
his death, he missed England, retaining with difficulty the duchy of
Normandy: and pawning even this, at the expiration of nine years, to
his brother William, he joined the expedition into Asia, with the other
Christians. From thence, at the end of four years, he returned with
credit for his military exploits; and without difficulty sat himself
down in Normandy, because his brother William being recently dead,
king Henry, unsettled on account of his fresh-acquired power, deemed
it enough to retain England under his command: but as I must speak of
this in another place, I will here pursue the relation I had begun
concerning the sons of William the Great.
Richard afforded his noble father hopes of his future greatness; a
fine youth and of aspiring disposition, considering his age: but an
untimely death quickly withered the bud of this promising flower.
They relate that while hunting deer in the New-forest, he contracted
a disorder from a stream of infected air. This is the place which
William his father, desolating the towns and destroying the churches
for more than thirty miles, had appropriated for the nurture and refuge
of wild beasts;[333] a dreadful spectacle, indeed, that where before
had existed human intercourse and the worship of God, there deer, and
goats, and other animals of that kind, should now range unrestrained,
and these not subjected to the general service of mankind. Hence it
is truly asserted that, in this very forest, William his son, and
his grandson Richard, son of Robert, earl of Normandy, by the severe
judgment of God, met their deaths, one by a wound in the breast by an
arrow, the other by a wound in the neck, or as some say, from being
suspended by the jaws on the branch of a tree, as his horse passed
beneath it.
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] DAUGHTERS OF WILLIAM I.]
His daughters were five; first, Cecilia, abbess of Caen, who still
survives: the second, Constantia, married to Alan Fergant, earl of
Brittany, excited the inhabitants, by the severity of her justice, to
administer a poisonous potion to her: the third, Adela, the wife of
Stephen, earl of Blois, a lady celebrated for secular industry, lately
took the veil at Marcigny. The names of the two others have escaped
me.[334] One of these, as we have said, was betrothed to Harold, and
died ere she was marriageable: the other was affianced, by messengers,
to Alphonso, king of Gallicia, but obtained, from God, a virgin death.
A hard substance, which proved the frequency of her prayers, was found
upon her knees after her decease.
Honouring the memory of his father, by every practicable method, in
the latter part of his life, he caused his bones, formerly interred at
Nicea, to be taken up by means of a person sent for that purpose, in
order to convey them elsewhere; who, successfully returning, stopped
in Apulia, on hearing of the death of William, and there buried this
illustrious man’s remains. He treated his mother, who, before the
death of his father, had married one Herlewin de Conteville, a man
of moderate wealth, with singular indulgence as long as she lived.
William’s brothers, by this match, were Robert, a man of heavy,
sluggish disposition, whom he made earl of Moreton; and Odo, whom,
while he was earl, he made bishop of Bayeux; and when king, created
him earl of Kent. Being of quicker talents than the other, he was
governor of all England, under the king, after the death of William
Fitz-Osberne. He had wonderful skill in accumulating treasure;
possessed extreme craft in dissembling: so that, though absent, yet,
stuffing the scrips of the pilgrims with letters and money, he had
nearly purchased the Roman papacy from the citizens. But when, through
the rumour of his intended journey, soldiers eagerly flocked to him
from all parts of the kingdom, the king, taking offence, threw him
into confinement; saying, that he did not seize the bishop of Bayeux,
but the earl of Kent. His partisans being intimidated by threats,
discovered such quantities of gold, that the heap of precious metal
would surpass the belief of the present age; and, at last, many
sackfuls of wrought gold were also taken out of the rivers, which he
had secretly buried in certain places. When released, at the death of
his brother, he joined Robert’s party, as he was averse to his nephew
William: but then too matters turning out unfavourably, he was banished
England, and went over to his nephew and his bishopric in Normandy.
Afterwards, proceeding with him on his enterprize to Jerusalem, he died
at Antioch while it was besieged by the Christians.
King William kindly admitted foreigners to his friendship; bestowed
honours on them without distinction, and was attentive to almsgiving;
he gave many possessions in England to foreign churches, and scarcely
did his own munificence, or that of his nobility, leave any monastery
unnoticed, more especially in Normandy, so that their poverty was
mitigated by the riches of England. Thus, in his time, the monastic
flock increased on every side; monasteries arose, ancient in their
rule, but modern in building: but here I perceive the muttering of
those who say, it would have been better that the old should have been
preserved in their original state, than that new ones should have been
erected from their plunder.
He was of just stature, extraordinary corpulence, fierce countenance;
his forehead bare of hair: of such great strength of arm, that it
was often matter of surprise, that no one was able to draw his bow,
which himself could bend when his horse was on full gallop: he was
majestic, whether sitting or standing, although the protuberance of
his belly deformed his royal person: of excellent health, so that he
was never confined with any dangerous disorder, except at the last:
so given to the pleasures of the chase, that, as I have before said,
ejecting the inhabitants, he let a space of many miles grow desolate,
that, when at liberty from other avocations, he might there pursue
his pleasures. He gave sumptuous and splendid entertainments, at the
principal festivals; passing, during the years he could conveniently
remain in England, Christmas at Gloucester; Easter at Winchester;
Pentecost at Westminster. At these times a royal edict summoned thither
all the principal persons of every order, that the ambassadors from
foreign nations might admire the splendour of the assemblage, and the
costliness of the banquets. Nor was he at any time more affable or
indulgent; in order that the visitants might proclaim universally,
that his generosity kept pace with his riches. This mode of banqueting
was constantly observed by his first successor; the second omitted it.
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] WILLIAM’S LOVE OF MONEY.]
His anxiety for money is the only thing for which he can deservedly be
blamed.[335] This he sought all opportunities of scraping together, he
cared not how; he would say and do some things, and, indeed, almost any
thing, unbecoming such great majesty, where the hope of money allured
him. I have here no excuse whatever to offer, unless it be, as one
has said, that, “Of necessity, he must fear many, whom many fear.”
For, through dread of his enemies, he used to drain the country of
money, with which he might retard or repel their attacks; very often,
as it happens in human affairs, where strength failed, purchasing
the forbearance of his enemies with gold. This disgraceful calamity
is still prevalent, and every day increases; so that both towns
and churches are subjected to contributions: nor is this done with
firm-kept faith on the part of the imposers, but whoever offers more,
carries the prize; all former agreements being disregarded.
Residing in his latter days in Normandy, when enmity had arisen between
him and the king of France, he, for a short period, was confined to the
house: Philip, scoffing at this forbearance, is reported to have said,
“The king of England is lying-in at Rouen, and keeps his bed, like a
woman after her delivery;” jesting on his belly, which he had been
reducing by medicine. Cruelly hurt at this sarcasm, he replied, “When
I go to mass, after my confinement, I will make him an offering of a
hundred thousand candles.”[336] He swore this, “by the Resurrection and
Glory of God:” for he was wont purposely to swear such oaths as, by
the very form of his mouth, would strike terror into the minds of his
hearers.
Not long after, in the end of the month of August, when the corn was
ripe on the ground, the clusters on the vines, and the orchards laden
with fruit in full abundance, collecting an army, he entered France in
a hostile manner, trampling down, and laying every thing waste: nothing
could assuage his irritated mind, so determined was he to revenge this
injurious taunt at the expense of multitudes. At last he set fire to
the city of Mantes, where the church of St. Mary was burnt, together
with a recluse who did not think it justifiable to quit her cell even
under such an emergency; and the whole property of the citizens was
destroyed. Exhilarated by this success, while furiously commanding his
people to add fuel to the conflagration, he approached too near the
flames, and contracted a disorder from the violence of the fire and
the intenseness of the autumnal heat. Some say, that his horse leaping
over a dangerous ditch, ruptured his rider, where his belly projected
over the front of the saddle. Injured by this accident, he sounded a
retreat, and returning to Rouen, as the malady increased he took to his
bed. His physicians, when consulted, affirmed, from an inspection of
his urine, that death was inevitable. On hearing this, he filled the
house with his lamentations, because death had suddenly seized him,
before he could effect that reformation of life which he had long since
meditated. Recovering his fortitude, however, he performed the duties
of a Christian in confession and receiving the communion. Reluctantly,
and by compulsion, he bestowed Normandy on Robert; to William he gave
England; while Henry received his maternal possessions. He ordered all
his prisoners to be released and pardoned: his treasures to be brought
forth, and distributed to the churches: he gave also a certain sum of
money to repair the church which had been burnt. Thus rightly ordering
all things, he departed on the eighth of the ides of September, [Sept.
6,] in the fifty-ninth year of his age: the twenty-second of his reign:
the fifty-second of his duchy: and in the year of our Lord 1087.
This was the same year, in which Canute, king of Denmark, as we have
before related, was killed; and in which the Spanish Saracens raging
against the Christians, were shortly compelled to retire to their own
territories by Alphonso, king of Gallicia; unwillingly evacuating even
the cities they had formerly occupied.
The body, embalmed after royal custom, was brought down the river
Seine to Caen, and there consigned to the earth, a large assembly of
the clergy attending, but few of the laity. Here might be seen the
wretchedness of earthly vicissitude; for that man who was formerly the
glory of all Europe, and more powerful than any of his predecessors,
could not find a place of everlasting rest, without contention. For
a certain knight, to whose patrimony the place pertained, loudly
exclaiming at the robbery, forbade his burial: saying, that the
ground belonged to himself by paternal right; and that the king had
no claim to rest in a place which he had forcibly invaded. Whereupon,
at the desire of Henry, the only one of his sons who was present, a
hundred pounds of silver[337] were paid to this brawler, and quieted
his audacious claim: for at that time, Robert his elder born was in
France, carrying on a war against his own country: William had sailed
for England, ere the king had well breathed his last; thinking it more
advantageous to look to his future benefit, than to be present at the
funeral of his father. Moreover, in the dispersion of money, neither
slow, nor sparing, he brought forth from its secret hoard, all that
treasure which had been accumulated at Winchester, during a reign of so
many years: to the monasteries he gave a piece of gold; to each parish
church five shillings in silver: to every county a hundred pounds to
be divided to each poor man severally. He also very splendidly adorned
the tomb of his father, with a large mass of gold and silver and the
refulgence of precious stones.
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] BERENGAR OF TOURS].
At this time lived Berengar, the heresiarch of Tours, who denied, that
the bread and wine, when placed on the altar and consecrated by the
priest, were, as the holy church affirms, the real and substantial
body of the Lord. Already was the whole of Gaul infected with this
his doctrine, disseminated by means of poor scholars, whom he allured
by daily hire. On this account pope Leo, of holiest memory, alarmed
for the catholic faith, calling a council against him at Vercelli,
dispersed the darkness of this misty error, by the effulgence of
evangelical testimony. But when, after his death, the poison of heresy
again burst forth from the bosoms of some worthless people where it had
long been nurtured, Hildebrand, in councils, when he was archdeacon,
at Tours, and after, when pope, at Rome, compelled him, after being
convicted, to the abjuration of his opinion; which matters, any
person desirous of seeing will find recorded in their proper place.
Archbishop Lanfranc and Guimund, the most eloquent man of our times,
first monk of St. Leofrid, in Normandy, afterwards bishop of Aversa in
Apulia, confuted him; but principally and most forcibly the latter.
And, indeed, though Berengar disgraced the earlier part of his life
by defending certain heresies, yet he came so much to his senses in
riper age, that without hesitation, he was by some esteemed a saint;
admired for innumerable good qualities, but especially for his humility
and almsgiving: showing himself master of his large possessions, by
dispersing, not their slave by hoarding and worshipping them. He was
so guarded with respect to female beauty, that he would never suffer a
woman to appear before him, lest he should seem to enjoy that beauty
with his eye, which he did not desire in his heart. He was used
neither to despise the poor nor flatter the rich: to live by nature’s
rule, “and having food and raiment,” in the language of the apostle,
“therewith to be content.” In consequence, Hildebert, bishop of Mans,
a first-rate poet, highly commends him; whose words I have purposely
inserted, that I may show this celebrated bishop’s regard to his
master; and at the same time his opinion will serve for an example to
posterity, how he thought a man ought to live: although, perhaps, from
the strength of his affection, he may have exceeded the bounds of just
commendation.
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] PANEGYRIC ON BERENGAR.]
Fame, which the world allows his due,
Shall Berengar, when dead, pursue:
Whom, plac’d on faith’s exalted height
The fifth day ravish’d with fell spite:
Sad was that day, and fatal too,
Where grief and loss united grew,
Wherein the church’s hope and pride,
The law, with its supporter, died.
What sages taught, or poets sung
Bow’d to his wit, and honey’d tongue.
Then holier wisdom’s path he trod,
And fill’d his heart and lips with God.
His soul, his voice, his action prov’d
The great Creator’s praise he lov’d,
So good, so wise, his growing fame
Shall soar above the greatest name:
Whose rank preserv’d his honours gain’d,
Preferr’d the poor to rich: maintain’d
The sternest justice. Wealth’s wide power
Ne’er gave to sloth, or waste, an hour,
Nor could repeated honours, high,
Seduce him from humility;
Who ne’er on money set his mind,
But griev’d he could no object find
Where he might give: and help’d the poor
Till poverty assail’d his door.
His life by nature’s laws to guide,
His mind from vice, his lips from pride,
Still was his care: to false, the true
Prefer, and nothing senseless do:
Evil to none, but good impart,
And banish lucre, hand and heart.
Whose dress was coarse, and temperance just
Awaited appetite’s keen gust:
Was chastity’s perpetual guest,
Nor let rank lust disturb his rest.
When nature form’d him, “See,” said she,
“While others fade, one born for me.”
Ere justice sought her place of rest
On high, he lock’d her in his breast.
A saint from boyhood, whose great name
Surpasses his exceeding fame,
Which, though the wide world it may fill,
Shall never reach his merit still.
Pious and grave, so humble yet,
That envy ne’er could him beset;
For envy weeps, whom still before
She hated, prone now to adore;
First for his life, but now his fate
She moans, laments his frail estate.
Man truly wise and truly blest!
Thy soul and body both at rest,
May I, when dead, abide with you,
And share the self-same portion too.
You may perceive in these verses, that the bishop exceeded the just
measure of praise; but eloquence is apt to recommend itself in such
wise; thus a brilliant style proceeds in graceful strain; thus
“Bewitching eloquence sheds purple flowers.”
But though Berengar himself changed his sentiments, yet was he unable
to convert all whom he had infected throughout the world; “so dreadful
a thing it is to seduce others from what is right, either by example
or by word; as, perhaps, in consequence, you must bear the sins of
others after having atoned for your own.” Fulbert, bishop of Chartres,
whom Mary, the mother of our Lord, was seen to cure when sick, by the
milk of her breasts, is said to have predicted this; for, when lying in
the last extremity, he was visited by many persons, and the house was
scarcely large enough to hold the company, he darted his eye through
the throng, and endeavoured to drive away Berengar, with all the force
he had remaining; protesting that an immense devil stood near him,
and attempted to seduce many persons to follow him, by beckoning with
his hand, and whispering some enticement. Moreover, Berengar himself,
when about to expire on the day of the Epiphany, sadly sighing, at the
recollection of the wretched people whom, when a very young man, in the
heat of error, he had infected with his opinions, exclaimed, “To-day,
in the day of his manifestation, my Lord Jesus Christ will appear to
me, either to glorify me, as I hope, for my repentance; or to punish
me, as I fear, for the heresy I have propagated on others.”
We indeed believe, that after ecclesiastical benediction, those
mysteries are the very body and blood of the Saviour; induced to
such an opinion, by the authority of the ancient church, and by many
miracles recently manifested. Such as that which St. Gregory exhibited
at Rome; and such as Paschasius relates to have taken place in Germany;
that the priest Plegild visibly touched the form of a boy, upon the
altar, and that after kissing him he partook of him, turned into the
similitude of bread, after the custom of the church: which, they
relate, Berengar used arrogantly to cavil at, and to say, that “it was
the treacherous covenant of a scoundrel, to destroy with his teeth,
him whom he had kissed with his mouth.” Such, too, is that concerning
the Jewish boy, who by chance running playfully into a church, with a
Christian of the same age, saw a child torn to pieces on the altar, and
severally divided to the people; which when, with childish innocence,
he related as truth to his parents, they placed him in a furnace, where
the fire was burning and the door closed: whence, after many hours, he
was snatched by the Christians, without injury to his person, clothes,
or hair; and being asked how he could escape the devouring flames, he
replied, “That beautiful woman whom I saw sitting in the chair, whose
son was divided among the people, always stood at my right hand in the
furnace, keeping off the threatening flames and fiery volumes with her
garments.”
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] THE TOMB OF WALWIN.]
At that time, in a province of Wales, called Ros, was found the
sepulchre of Walwin, the noble nephew of Arthur; he reigned, a most
renowned knight, in that part of Britain which is still named Walwerth;
but was driven from his kingdom by the brother and nephew of Hengist,
(of whom I have spoken in my first book,) though not without first
making them pay dearly for his expulsion. He deservedly shared, with
his uncle, the praise of retarding, for many years, the calamity of
his falling country. The sepulchre of Arthur is no where to be seen,
whence ancient ballads fable that he is still to come. But the tomb
of the other, as I have suggested, was found in the time of king
William, on the sea-coast, fourteen feet long: there, as some relate,
he was wounded by his enemies, and suffered shipwreck; others say,
he was killed by his subjects at a public entertainment. The truth
consequently is doubtful; though neither of these men was inferior to
the reputation they have acquired.
This, too, was the period in which Germany, for fifty years, bewailed
the pitiable, and almost fatal government of Henry, of whom I have
spoken in the history of William. He was neither unlearned nor
indolent; but so singled out by fate for every person to attack, that
whoever took up arms against him seemed, to himself, to be acting for
the good of religion. He had two sons, Conrad and Henry: the first, not
violating the rights of nature towards his father, having subjugated
Italy, died at Arezzo, a city of Tuscany: the other, in his early
age, attacking his parent when he was somewhat at rest from external
molestation, compelled him to retire from the empire, and when he
died shortly after, honoured him with an imperial funeral. He still
survives, obstinately adhering to those very sentiments, on account of
which he thought himself justified in persecuting his father; for he
grants the investiture of churches by the staff and ring; and looks
upon the pope as not legally elected without his concurrence; although
Calixtus, who now presides over the papal see, has greatly restrained
this man’s inordinate ambition: but let the reader wait my farther
relation of these matters in their proper order.
Moreover, pope Hildebrand dying, as I have said, and Urban being
elected by the cardinals, the emperor persisted in his intention of
preferring Guibert, of proclaiming him pope, and of bringing him
to Rome, by the expulsion of the other. The army, however, of the
marchioness Matilda, a woman, who, forgetful of her sex, and comparable
to the ancient Amazons, used to lead forth her hardy troops to
battle, espoused the juster cause, as it seemed, by her assistance,
in succeeding time, Urban obtaining the papal throne, held quiet
possession of it for eleven years. After him Paschal was appointed
by the Romans, who held Henry’s concurrence in contempt. Guibert yet
burdened the earth with his existence, the only sower of sedition, who
never, during his whole life, laid aside his obstinacy, nor conformed
to justice; saying, that the decision of the emperor ought to be
observed; not that of the assassins, or parchment-mongers of Rome.[338]
In consequence, both of them being excommunicated in several councils,
they treated the sentence with ridicule. Notwithstanding these
circumstances, there were many things praiseworthy in the emperor:
he was eloquent, of great abilities, well read, actively charitable;
had many good qualities, both of mind and person: was ever prepared
for war, insomuch that he was sixty-two times engaged in battle; was
equitable in adjusting differences; and when matters were unsuccessful,
he would prefer his griefs to heaven, and wait for redress from thence.
Many of his enemies perished by untimely deaths.
I have heard a person of the utmost veracity relate, that one of his
adversaries, a weak and factious man, while reclining at a banquet,
was, on a sudden, so completely surrounded by mice, as to be unable to
escape. So great was the number of these little animals, that there
could scarcely be imagined more in a whole province. It was in vain,
that they were attacked with clubs and fragments of the benches which
were at hand: and though they were for a long time assailed by all, yet
they wreaked their deputed curse on no one else; pursuing him only
with their teeth, and with a kind of dreadful squeaking. And although
he was carried out to sea about a javelin’s cast by the servants, yet
he could not by these means escape their violence; for immediately so
great a multitude of mice took to the water, that you would have sworn
the sea was strewed with chaff. But when they began to gnaw the planks
of the ship, and the water, rushing through the chinks, threatened
inevitable shipwreck, the servants turned the vessel to the shore.
The animals, then also swimming close to the ship, landed first. Thus
the wretch, set on shore, and soon after entirely gnawed in pieces,
satiated the dreadful hunger of the mice.
I deem this the less wonderful, because it is well known, that in Asia,
if a leopard bite any person, a party of mice approach directly, to
discharge their urine on the wounded man; and that a filthy deluge
of their water attends his death; but if, by the care of servants
driving them off, the destruction can be avoided during nine days;
then medical assistance, if called in, may be of service. My informant
had seen a person wounded after this manner, who, despairing of safety
on shore, proceeded to sea, and lay at anchor; when immediately more
than a thousand mice swam out, wonderful to relate, in the rinds of
pomegranates, the insides of which they had eaten; but they were
drowned through the loud shouting of the sailors. “For the Creator of
all things has made nothing destitute of sagacity; nor any pest without
its remedy.”
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] OF MARIANUS SCOTUS.]
During this emperor’s reign flourished Marianus Scotus,[339] first a
monk of Fulda, afterwards a recluse at Mentz, who, by renouncing the
present life, secured the happiness of that which is to come. During
his long continued leisure, he examined the writers on Chronology, and
discovered the disagreement of the cycles of Dionysius the Little with
the evangelical computation. Wherefore reckoning every year from the
beginning of the world, he added twenty-two, which were wanting, to the
above mentioned cycles; but he had few, or no followers of his opinion.
Wherefore I am often led to wonder, why such unhappiness should attach
to the learned of our time, that in so great a number of scholars and
students, pale with watching, scarcely one can obtain unqualified
commendation for knowledge. So much does ancient custom please, and so
little encouragement, though deserved, is given to new discoveries,
however consistent with truth. All are anxious to grovel in the old
track, and everything modern is contemned; and therefore, as patronage
alone can foster genius, when that is withheld, every exertion
languishes.
But as I have mentioned the monastery of Fulda, I will relate what a
reverend man, Walker, prior of Malvern, whose words if any disbelieve
he offends against holiness, told me had happened there. “Not more
than fifteen years have elapsed,” said he, “since a contagious disease
attacked the abbat of that place, and afterwards destroyed many of
the monks. The survivors, at first, began each to fear for himself,
and to pray, and give alms more abundantly than usual. In process of
time, however, for such is the nature of man, their fear gradually
subsiding, they began to omit them; the cellarer more especially: who
publicly and absurdly exclaimed, that the stock of provision was not
adequate to such a consumption; that he had lately hoped for some
reduction of expense from so many funerals, but that his hopes were at
an end, if the dead consumed what the living could not. It happened
on a certain night, when, from some urgent business, he had deferred
going to rest for a long time, that having at length despatched every
concern, he went towards the dormitory. And now you shall hear a
strange circumstance: he saw in the chapter-house, the abbat, and all
who had died that year, sitting in the order they had departed: when
affrighted and endeavouring to escape, he was detained by force. Being
reproved and corrected, after the monastic manner, with a scourge, he
heard the abbat speak precisely to the following effect: that it was
foolish to look for advantage by another’s death, when all were subject
to one common fate; that it was an impious thing, that a monk who had
passed his whole life in the service of the church should be grudged
the pittance of a single year after his death; that he himself should
die very shortly, but that whatever others might do for him, should
redound only to the advantage of those whom he had defrauded; that he
might now go and correct, by his example, those whom he had corrupted
by his expressions.” He departed, and demonstrated that he had seen
nothing imaginary, as well by his recent stripes, as by his death,
which shortly followed.
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] CANTERBURY AND YORK.]
In the meantime, while employed on other subjects, both matter and
inclination have occurred for the relation of what was determined in
William’s time, concerning the controversy still existing between the
archbishops of Canterbury and York. And that posterity may be fully
informed of this business, I will subjoin the opinions of the ancient
fathers.
_Pope Gregory to Augustine, first archbishop of Canterbury._
“Let your jurisdiction not only extend over the bishops you shall have
ordained, or such as have been ordained by the bishop of York, but also
over all the priests of Britain, by the authority of our Lord Jesus
Christ.”
_Boniface to Justus, archbishop of Canterbury._
“Far be it from every Christian, that anything concerning the city
of Canterbury be diminished or changed, in present or future times,
which was appointed by our predecessor pope Gregory, however human
circumstances may be changed: but more especially, by the authority
of St. Peter the prince of apostles, we command and ordain, that the
city of Canterbury shall ever hereafter be esteemed the metropolitan
see of all Britain; and we decree and appoint, immutably, that all
the provinces of the kingdom of England shall be subject to the
metropolitan church of the aforesaid see. And if any one attempt to
injure this church, which is more especially under the power and
protection of the holy Roman church, or to lessen the jurisdiction
conceded to it, may God expunge him from the book of life; and let him
know, that he is bound by the sentence of a curse.”
_Alexander to William, king of England._
“The cause of Alric, formerly called bishop of Chichester, we have
entrusted to our brother bishop, Lanfranc, to be by him diligently
reconsidered and determined. We have also commended to him the labour
of deciding the dispute which has arisen between the archbishop of
York, and the bishop of Dorchester, on matters belonging to their
dioceses; strictly ordering him to examine this cause most diligently
and bring it to a just termination. Besides, we have so fully
committed to him the authority of our personal and pontifical power in
considering and settling causes, that whatever he shall, according to
justice, have determined, shall be regarded as firm and indissoluble
hereafter, as though it had been adjudged in our presence.”
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1072] CANTERBURY AND YORK.]
“In the year of our Lord Jesus Christ’s incarnation 1072, of the
pontificate of pope Alexander the eleventh, and of the reign of
William, glorious king of England, and duke of Normandy, the sixth;
by the command of the said pope Alexander, and permission of the
same king, in presence of himself, his bishops, and abbats, the
question was agitated concerning the primacy which Lanfranc,[340]
archbishop of Canterbury, claimed in right of his church, over that
of York; and concerning the ordination of certain bishops, of which
it was not clearly evident, to whom they especially pertained; and
at length, after some time it was proved and shown by the distinct
authority of various writings, that the church of York ought to be
subject to that of Canterbury, and to be obedient to the appointments
of its archbishop, as primate of all England, in all such matters as
pertained to the Christian religion. But the homage of the bishop
of Durham, that is of Lindisfarne, and of all the countries beyond
the limits of the bishop of Lichfield, and the great river Humber,
to the farthest boundaries of Scotland, and whatever on this side of
the aforesaid river justly pertains to the diocese of the church of
York, the metropolitan of Canterbury allowed for ever to belong to
the archbishop of York and his successors: in such sort, that if the
archbishop of Canterbury chose to call a council, wherever he deemed
fit, the archbishop of York was bound to be present at his command,
with all his suffragan bishops, and be obedient to his canonical
injunctions. And Lanfranc the archbishop proved from the ancient custom
of his predecessors, that the archbishop of York was bound to make
profession, even with an oath, to the archbishop of Canterbury; but
through regard to the king, he dispensed with the oath from Thomas,
archbishop of York; and received his written profession only: but not
forming a precedent for his successors who might choose to exact the
oath, together with the profession, from Thomas’s successors. If the
archbishop of Canterbury should die, the archbishop of York shall come
to Canterbury; and, with the other bishops of the church aforesaid,
duly consecrate the person elect as his lawful primate. But if the
archbishop of York shall die, his successor, accepting the gift of the
archbishopric from the king, shall come to Canterbury, or where the
archbishop of Canterbury shall appoint, and shall from him receive
canonical ordination. To this ordinance consented the king aforesaid,
and the archbishops, Lanfranc of Canterbury, and Thomas of York; and
Hubert subdeacon of the holy Roman church, and legate of the aforesaid
pope Alexander; and the other bishops and abbats present. This cause
was first agitated at the festival of Easter in the city of Winchester,
in the royal chapel, situated in the castle; afterwards in the royal
town called Windsor, where it received its termination, in the presence
of the king, the bishops, and abbats of different orders, who were
assembled at the king’s court on the festival of Pentecost.
“The signature of William the king: the signature of Matilda the queen.
“I Hubert, subdeacon of the holy Roman church, and legate from pope
Alexander, have signed.
“I Lanfranc, archbishop of Canterbury, have signed.
“I Thomas, archbishop of York, have signed.
“I William, bishop of London, have assented.
“I Herman, bishop of Sherborne, have signed.
“I Wulstan, bishop of Worcester, have signed.
“I Walter, bishop of Hereford, have assented.
“I Giso, bishop of Wells, have assented.
“I Remigius, bishop of Dorchester, have signed.
“I Walkelin, bishop of Winchester, have signed.
“I Herefast, bishop of Helmham, have signed.
“I Stigand, bishop of Chichester, have assented.
“I Siward, bishop of Rochester, have assented.
“I Osberne, bishop of Exeter, have assented.
“I Odo, bishop of Bayeux and earl of Kent, have assented.
“I Gosfrith, bishop of Coutances and one of the nobles of England, have
assented.
“I Scotland, abbat of St. Augustine’s monastery, have assented.
“I Thurstan, abbat of the monastery which is situated in the isle of
Ely, have assented.
“I Ailnoth, abbat of Glastonbury, have assented.
“I Elfwin, abbat of the monastery of Ramsey, have assented.
“I Wulnoth, abbat of Chertsey, have assented.
“I Ailwyn, abbat of Evesham, have assented.
“I Frederic, abbat of St. Alban’s, have assented.
“I Goffrid, abbat of the monastery of St. Peter, near London, have
assented.
“I Baldwin, abbat of St. Edmund’s monastery, have assented.
“I Turald, abbat of Burgh, have assented.
“I Adelelm, abbat of Abingdon, have assented.
“I Ruald, abbat of the New minster at Winchester, have assented.
“It becomes every Christian to be subject to Christian laws, and by
no means to run counter to those things which have been wholesomely
enacted by the holy fathers. For hence arise strifes, dissensions,
envyings, contentions, and other things, which plunge the lovers of
them into eternal punishment. And the more exalted the rank of any
person is, so much the more exact should be his obedience to divine
commands: wherefore I Thomas, now ordained metropolitan bishop of the
church of York, hearing and knowing your authorities, make unlimited
profession of canonical obedience to you, Lanfranc, archbishop of
Canterbury, and your successors; and I promise to observe whatever
shall be canonically enjoined me, either by you or them. Of this matter
I was doubtful, while I was yet about to be ordained by you: wherefore
I promised obedience unconditionally to you, but conditionally to your
successors.”
The archbishop of Canterbury, as I remember to have observed in my
first book, originally had subject to him, these bishops: London,
Winchester, Rochester, Sherborne, Worcester, Hereford, Lichfield,
Selsey, Leicester, Helmham, Sidnacester, Dunwich; in the time of king
Edward the Elder were added, Cornwall, Crediton, Wells in West Saxony,
and Dorchester in Mercia, as I noticed in my second book.
[Sidenote: [A.D. 1072.] PRIVILEGES OF THE ARCHBISHOP OF YORK.]
The archbishop of York had all the bishops on the farther side of the
Humber subject to him, as Ripon, Hexham, Lindisfarne, Candida Casa,
which is now called Whitherne; and all the bishops of Scotland and
the Orkneys; as the archbishop of Canterbury had those of Ireland and
Wales. The bishoprics of Ripon and Hexham have long since perished by
hostile ravages; Leicester, Sidnacester, and Dunwich, by means that
I cannot account for; and, in the time of king Edward the Simple,
Cornwall and Crediton were united, and the bishopric translated to
Exeter. In king William’s time, at this council, it was determined
that, according to the decrees of the canons, the bishops should quit
the villages, and fix their abode in the cities of their dioceses;
Lichfield therefore migrated to Chester, which was anciently called the
City of Legions; Selsey to Chichester; Helmham first to Thetford, and
now, by bishop Herbert, to Norwich; Sherborne to Salisbury; Dorchester
to Lincoln. For Lindisfarne had long before passed to Durham, and
lately Wells to Bath.
In this assembly Lanfranc, who was yet uninstructed in English matters,
inquired of the elder bishops, what was the order of sitting in
council, as originally appointed. They, alleging the difficulty of the
question, deferred their answer till the next day; when, carefully
calling circumstances to mind, they asserted that they had seen the
arrangement as follows: that the archbishop of Canterbury, presiding at
the council, should have, on the right hand, the archbishop of York,
and next him the bishop of Winchester; and on his left, the bishop of
London. But should it ever happen, through necessity, that the primate
of Canterbury should be absent, or should he be dead, the archbishop of
York, presiding at the council, should have the bishops of London on
his right hand, and of Winchester on his left; and the rest should take
their seats according to the time of their ordination.
At that time, too, the claim of the archbishop of York on the see of
Worcester and Dorchester was decided and set at rest. For he said that
they ought to be subject to his jurisdiction; which, after having
pondered for some time in secret, when he proceeded to Rome with
Lanfranc to receive their palls from the pope, he brought publicly
before the Roman court. Lanfranc, though for the most part unmoved by
injury, could not help betraying, by his countenance, his emotion at
such a wanton and unheard-of attack, though he for some time refrained
from speaking. But pope Alexander, who felt much for Lanfranc’s
distress, for he had even condescendingly risen from his seat when
he approached, professing that he paid him this mark of respect, not
from honour to the archbishop but regard to his learning, removed from
himself the unpleasant task of deciding, and referred the adjudication
of it to an English council. In consequence, as I have related, the
matter, after deep investigation, came to this termination in the
present council; that, as these bishops were on this side of the
Humber, they should belong to Canterbury, but all beyond that river to
York.
Here the pious simplicity of St. Wulstan, bishop of Worcester, and
his noble confidence in God, demand praise and approbation. For when
called in question as well concerning this business, as on his slender
attainments in learning, he had retired to consider more carefully
what answer he should make, his mind undisturbed by tumult: “Believe
me,” said he, “we have not yet sung the service for the sixth hour:
let us sing the service therefore.” And, on his companions suggesting
the necessity of first expediting the business they had met upon; that
there was ample time for singing, and that the king and the nobility
would laugh at them, if they heard of it: “Truly,” said he, “let us
first do our duty towards God, and afterwards settle the disputes
of men.” Having sung the service, he directly proceeded towards the
council-chamber, without devising any subterfuge, or any attempt to
disguise the truth. To his dependents, who were desirous of withholding
him, and who could not be persuaded but their cause was in danger,
he said, “Know for certain, that I here visibly perceive those holy
archbishops, Dunstan of Canterbury, and Oswald of York; who, defending
me this day with their prayers, will darken the understandings of my
gainsayers.” Then giving his benediction to a monk, a man of little
eloquence, but somewhat acquainted with the Norman language, on summing
up his cause, he obtained that he, who was before thought unworthy
of the management of his own diocese, should be humbly entreated by
the archbishop of York, to condescend to visit those parts of his
province, which himself, through dread of enemies, or ignorance of the
language, had refrained from approaching. But I will no longer torture
the patience of my readers, who perhaps do not regard this matter
with pleasure, as they are in expectation of the history of William’s
successors; though, if I am not too partial to myself, a variety of
anecdote can be displeasing to no one, unless he be morose enough to
rival the superciliousness of Cato. But whoever is so inclined, will
find such other matters in the fourth and fifth book, for here the
third shall terminate.[341]