hardly credible. The author of the Gesta, generally not indisposed to
underrate the successes of the Angevin house, speaks only of the cession
of the disputed territory of Saintonge. William of Poitiers (86) says
only “argenti et auri pondus gravissimum, atque _prædia ditissima_
extorsit.” And the Chronicles of Saint Maxentius (a. 1036) speak of no
territorial cession at all, but only of a ransom; “Isembertus Episcopus
Pictavis fecit synodum, ubi _magnam pacem_ [doubtless the Truce of God]
firmavit. Qui, cum Eustachiâ uxore Guillelmi Comitis, aliquantulùm
exspoliavit monasteria auro et argento, unde redimerent eum.” He then
mentions the deaths of William and Eustachia. It was perhaps the
flourish of William of Poitiers (86) about Poitiers, Bourdeaux, and
other cities obeying Geoffrey (“Andegavi, Turoni, Pictones, Burdegala,
multæ regiones, civitates plurimæ”) which suggested a formal cession of
Bourdeaux to the mind of William of Malmesbury.
There can be no doubt that Eustachia was the real wife of William the
Fat, the prisoner of Geoffrey, and that Agnes, whom Geoffrey married,
was only his father’s widow. William of Poitiers says distinctly that,
after the death of William, Geoffrey “novercam præcipuè nobilitatis [she
was daughter of Otto-William, Count of Burgundy] toro suo sociavit” (p.
86). He is followed by William of Malmesbury (iii. 231), who says,
“Martellus, ne quid deesset impudentiæ, novercam defuncti matrimonio
sibi copulavit.” So the Chronicle of Saint Maxentius, which places the
death of William in 1036, places the marriage in 1037. This last
Chronicle is the only one which gives us an intelligible reason for
Geoffrey’s conduct in contracting this marriage. Agnes could not have
been very young, fifteen or sixteen years after her first marriage in
1018 (Art de vérifier les Dates, ii. 354. The date, according to the
Chronicle of Saint Maxentius, is 1023, but then the second marriage is
put later also); but Geoffrey had a political motive. “Willermo Comite
mortuo, Pictavenses in magno angore et anxietate positi de morte
principis sui, sicut oves sine pastore relicti, Odonem Comitem, germanum
ejus ex patre supradicto, ex Gasconiâ convocaverunt. Per hæc tempora
Gaufredus Martellus duxerat uxorem supradictam Agnetem, caussâ
Pictavensium, ut haberet sibi subditos adhuc duobus filiis suis,
scilicet Petro et Gaufredo parvulis” (Labbe, ii. 207). The two boys were
in the end (1044) established by Geoffrey as Counts of Poitiers and
Gascony respectively.
Some of the Angevin and Norman Chroniclers seem to have confounded the
two Williams, William the Great, the husband of Agnes, and William the
Fat, her stepson, who was imprisoned by Geoffrey. They therefore make a
strange hash of the story, making Geoffrey marry the wife of the prince
whom he imprisoned, and that even during her husband’s lifetime. The
Angevin Chronicler in Labbe, i. 276, puts the marriage of Agnes a year
before the imprisonment of William (1032 and 1033). “Gaufridus
Martellus,” he says, “Agnetem duxit _incesto conjugio_.” It is not clear
whether there was any kindred between Geoffrey and Agnes, or whether the
Chronicler called the marriage “incestum” because he fancied that Agnes
had a husband alive. The Chronicle of Saint Michael’s Mount (Labbe, i.
350) is still more express. The marriage is recorded under 1032, and
under 1033 we read that Geoffrey took prisoner William “cujus uxorem
Agnetem ante duxerat.” There can be no doubt that both the chronology
and the facts are altogether confused, and we are thus led to look with
some little suspicion on the other events which the Angevin Chronicler
connects both with the imprisonment and with the marriage. Under 1032,
after recording the marriage, he adds, “Inde bellum illud exsecrabile
quod contra patrem suum per annos ferè septem subsequentes impiè
gessit.” On the imprisonment in 1033 he adds, “Quare orta est discordia
inter patrem et matrem.” What could these things have to do with one
another?
NOTE R. p. 319.
THE RAVAGES ATTRIBUTED TO HAROLD AND GODWINE.
The only writer who puts on anything like a tone of censure with regard
either to Harold’s conduct at Porlock or to Godwine’s plundering along
the south coast, is William of Malmesbury, and he does not draw the
proper distinction between the doings of father and son. His words (ii.
199) are, “Exsulum quisque, de loco suo egressi, Britanicum mare
circumvagari, littora piraticis latrociniis infestare, _de cognati
populi opibus prædas eximias conjectare_.”
There is however a marked difference of tone in the way in which the
story of Harold’s landing at Porlock is told by the different
Chroniclers. The Abingdon writer, as I have often noticed, may be looked
on as to some extent hostile to Godwine, and the Worcester writer,
though on the whole favourable to the Earl, yet constantly follows the
Abingdon narrative. The Peterborough version, I need hardly say, is
quite independent, and is always strongly for Godwine. According to
Abingdon and Worcester (1052), Harold landed and plundered, and then the
people of the country came together to withstand him. He landed, they
say, and “þær mycel gehergode, and þæt landfolc him ongean gaderodan.”
But the Peterborough writer makes the local force to have been already
brought together, and speaks of no ravaging till after Harold had found
the country hostile. Harold came to Porlock—“and wes þær mycel folc
gegaderod ongean. Ac he ne wandode na him metes to tylienne; eode úp,
and ofsloh þær mycelne ende þes folces.” That is to say, the partizan of
Godwine tells the tale in the way least unfavourable to Harold, while
the hostile or indifferent writer tells it in the way most unfavourable.
But the pains taken in both directions show that both writers agreed in
thinking that the harrying and slaying, unless done in strict
self-defence, was discreditable.
The Biographer of Eadward seems to have thought differently. He greatly
exaggerates the ravaging, and tells the tale (405) in a tone of distinct
triumph; “Ab ipsis Occidentalium Britonum sive Anglorum finibus usque
quò Dux consederat, ferro, igne, et abductâ prædâ omne regnum sunt
devastati.” It has been ingeniously suggested to me from this passage
that the Biographer was a foreigner. His way of looking at this
particular matter certainly stands out in distinct contrast to that of
all the native writers. The supposition that he was a foreigner would
account for many of the characteristics of his work. It would quite
explain his evidently minute personal knowledge of many things, combined
with his frequent inaccuracy about others. It would account for his
invariable tendency to dwell on all personal details about the King, the
Lady, and the Earls, and rather to slur over the political affairs of
the Kingdom. But, if he was a foreigner, the spirit in which he writes
forbids the notion that he was a Frenchman. Probably he was a member of
the other importation from Lotharingia.
But it is very singular that, in the account of the plundering of
Godwine in Wight and Portland, it is the Peterborough writer who puts
matters in the strongest light; “And eodon þær úp, and hergodon swa
lange þær þæt þæt folc geald heom swa mycel swa hi heom on legden; and
gewendon heom þa westweard, oð þet hi comon to Portlande, and eodon þær
úp, _and dydon to hearme swa hwet swa hi dón mihton_.” Abingdon, on the
other hand, mentions the plundering only incidentally, when saying that
it ceased after the meeting of Godwine and Harold; “And hi na mycelne
hearm ne dydon syððan hig togædere comon, buton þæt heo metsunge namon.”
And the juxtaposition of the words which follow is remarkable; “Ac
speonnon heom eall þæt landfolc to be ðam sǽ riman, and eac up on
lande.” The people joined Godwine, notwithstanding his plunderings.
The mention of the plundering in Sheppey (see p. 323) comes also from
the Peterborough Chronicle only. These differences show that the several
writers, though one often wrote in a different spirit from another, all
wrote honestly, and that they did not wilfully either invent or conceal
things for party purposes.
In the name of common fairness, as wishing to give to our common hero
his due praise and no more, I must protest against the way in which the
Porlock story is slurred over by Thierry and Mr. St. John. This part of
Harold’s conduct cannot be defended, and it ought not to be concealed.
It is enough that he wiped out the stain by his refusal on a later day
to ravage one inch of the Kingdom which had been given him to guard.
NOTE S. p. 319.
THE NARRATIVES OF THE RETURN OF GODWINE.
Of the return of Godwine, as of his banishment, we have three original
narratives, those of the Abingdon and Worcester Chroniclers, which may
be reckoned as one, that of the Peterborough Chronicler, and that of
Eadward’s Biographer. Each again show’s its respective character; each
has its characteristic tone; each brings some particular facts into
greater notice than the others; but there are no really important
contradictions among them. The Peterborough writer retains his old
character as the stoutest of all adherents of Godwine. The Abingdon
Chronicler may be looked on as in some sort an enemy; it is at the end
of this year that he breaks out into that complaint about Godwine’s
appropriation of ecclesiastical property of which I have spoken
elsewhere (see above, pp. 32, 351, 546). But he is not an uncandid
enemy; some of the points which tell most strongly in Godwine’s favour
come out with great force in his narrative; it is from him that we get
the fullest picture of the zeal with which Godwine was received by the
maritime shires. He also, as we have seen (see Note R.), though he makes
the most of Harold’s ravages, makes the least of those of Godwine. This
last feature is not what one would have expected. His dislike to Godwine
follows him to his death, but in his late narrative it certainly is not
extended to Harold. On the whole we may say that, as a monk, he has a
certain personal feeling against Godwine, but that, as an Englishman, he
is true to Godwine’s cause.
The Biographer takes his usual line. He is a courtier, comparatively
careless of the march of public events, but full of personal incidents
which are not to be found elsewhere. His narrative is nowhere richer
than in those little indirect and unconscious touches which are often
worth more than direct statements. I need hardly say that he is the most
careless as to chronology of all three. The Peterborough writer, on the
other hand, is the most attentive. I therefore make him my main guide
throughout the story, but I draw touches and incidents from both the
other sources without hesitation.
Thus, at the very beginning, the Abingdon writer makes the great
accession which the men of Kent and Sussex made to Godwine’s force (p.
322) happen immediately on his first coming from Flanders, before he was
pursued by the King’s ships. This is hardly possible, and we accordingly
find from the Peterborough narrative that it really happened later,
after the storm and the return to Flanders, incidents which the Abingdon
writer leaves out. But it is from the Abingdon writer that we get that
most emphatic expression of the popular attachment to Godwine, how the
men of Kent, Surrey (a shire which I should have mentioned more
distinctly in p. 322), and the other south-eastern districts, pledged
themselves to “live and die” with the Earl. William of Malmesbury, as he
so often does, follows Peterborough, though he is not without touches of
his own.
Somewhat later in the story (p. 324), we find a good illustration of the
peculiar value of the Biographer. The Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles
clearly imply that Eadward knew nothing of the second attempt of Godwine
till the Earl had reached Sandwich; “Þa Eadwerd cyng þæt geaxode,” &c.
The question in the text as to the whereabouts of the King naturally
occurs. Florence (1052) made a very obvious inference from his
authorities, when he wrote, “Regi Eadwardo, _tunc temporis Lundoniæ
demoranti_, illorum adventus nunciatur.” But these words are simply an
inference; they do not translate any statement in the Chronicles, and we
find from the Biographer, the best authority for the King’s personal
movements, that it is a wrong inference; “Audito itaque Rex ejus
[Godwini] violento et absque ejus nutu in regnum suum ingressu, quamquam
fidem referentibus non accommodaret, tamen cum militari copiâ quâ
poterat, _Lundoniam venit_” (Vita Eadw. 405). He therefore was elsewhere
when he heard the news. The writer goes on to say, “_Utque acri erat
animo et promptissimæ strenuitatis_, ingressum civitatis, quà tendebat,
prohibere tentabat.” The words in Italics must apply to Eadward, and the
Biographer would hardly venture upon satire. Æthelred himself, as we
have seen, had his fits of energy, and Eadward also had his fits, if not
of energy, at least of passion.
When we get to the negotiations on the evening of Monday, it is to the
Peterborough Chronicler only that we owe our knowledge of the personal
agency of Stigand (p. 329). A year before, the Biographer was the only
writer who spoke of him. This is just the way in which, in a story of
this kind, our several accounts fill up gaps in each other, and
strengthen each other’s authority. The conduct attributed to Stigand at
one time by one account exactly agrees with the conduct attributed to
him at another time by another and quite independent account. The
Abingdon Chronicle simply says, “Geræddon þa þæt man sende wise men
betweonan, and setton grið on ægðre healfe.” So Florence, “Sapientiores
_quique_ [Roger of Wendover, or his copyist, or his editor, turns this
into “sapientes _quinque_,” i. 491] ex utrâque parte, inter Regem et
Ducem pacem redintegrantes, exercitum ab armis discedere jusserunt.” The
Canterbury writer follows Peterborough in mentioning Stigand, but adds,
rather unluckily, “þe was þes cinges rædgifa and his handprest.”
The adjournment till the morning of Tuesday appears from the words of
Florence, “Mane autem facto, concilium Rex habuit.” These words answer
to nothing in the actual narrative of any of the Chroniclers; but they
are implied in what the Abingdon writer says afterwards; “Ðæt wæs on
þone Monandæg æfter Sc̃a Marian mæsse þæt Godwine mid his scipum to
Suðgeweorce becom, and þæs on merigen, on þone Tiwesdæg hi gewurdon
sehte, swa hit her beforan stent.” We thus see that, in the flow of
narration, especially in the rhetorical language of the Biographer, the
events of two days have been run into one. This is especially shown in
one expression of the Biographer. He makes one of the reasons which made
Eadward finally yield at the Gemót to be because he saw that Godwine’s
military force was the stronger (“Ducem, quem utique videbat, sibi
satis, si uti vellet, superiorem armis”); this consideration would
rather belong to the former day. It is clear that the “mycel Gemót,” as
the Peterborough Chronicler triumphantly calls it, was held on Tuesday
morning. Its details must be gathered from all sources. Bits of the
official decrees peep out both in Abingdon and Peterborough, but it is
the Peterborough writer, the stoutest Englishman that ever took pen in
hand, who loves emphatically to dwell on the democratic character of
this great gathering. It is from his expression “wiðutan Lundene,”
combined with the description which the Biographer gives of Godwine and
Eadward afterwards going together to the Palace (see p. 337), that we
learn that the assembly was held in the open air. The Biographer cares
little for the political character of the meeting, but there is no part
of his whole narrative in which he is richer in those little personal
touches which give him his chief value. His account is most graphic and
animated, and the reader will easily see that I have largely drawn upon
him.
The flight of Robert, Ulf, and the other Normans (see p. 300) certainly
happened before the meeting of the Gemót, therefore doubtless on Monday
evening. From the account in the Abingdon Chronicle and in Florence it
might seem that it was on Tuesday, after sentence had been pronounced
against them in the Gemót. But, in the more careful order of the
Peterborough writer, it becomes plain that it happened immediately after
the mission of Stigand, that is, on Monday; “Ða geaxode Rotberd
arcebiscop and þa Frencisce menn þæt [the agreement made by Stigand]
genamon heora hors and gewendon.” Then, after the details of their ride,
comes the account of the Gemót. So William of Malmesbury, ii. 199.
Before the Gemót, “Ille [Robert], non exspectatâ violentiâ, sponte
profugerat, quum sermo pacis componeretur.” And this is confirmed by one
of the incidental references in the Biographer. He does not directly
describe the flight of Robert and his companions, but he speaks of the
King at the Gemót as “destitutus imprimis fugâ Archipræsulis et suorum
multorum, verentium adspectum Ducis, qui scilicet auctores fuerant
illius concitati turbinis.”
The personal reconciliation between the King and Godwine, distinct from,
and following after, the public votes of the Gemót (see p. 337), rests
on the direct authority of the Biographer only. The Chroniclers
naturally think mainly of the proceedings in the Assembly, and merge the
private reconciliation in the public one. The chaplain of the Lady, as
naturally, looks at things in an opposite way. It is possible however
that, in one passage of his story, the Peterborough writer had the
private reconciliation in his mind. Once, and once only, is his way of
speaking less popular than that of his Abingdon brother. Where Abingdon
says, “And _man sealde_ Godwine clæne his eorldom swa full and swa forð
swa he fyrmest ahte,” Peterborough has “and _se cyng forgeaf_ þam eorle
and his bearnum his fulne freondscype and fulne eorldom,” &c. This
sounds very much as if the Peterborough writer was combining in his mind
the public restoration by the Gemót and the personal reconciliation with
the King. But in any case we cannot mistake the minute and local
description given by the Biographer; “Rex itaque coactus tum
misericordiâ et satisfactione Ducis ... devictus quoque precibus
supplicantium, _redditis armis suis_, cum Duce in palatium processit,
_ibique_, paullatim defervente animi motu sedatus, sapientium consilio
usus, _Duci osculum præbuit_,” &c. (p. 406).
One or two points maybe here noticed. In the text (p. 337) I have said
that the King and the Earl went “unarmed to the Palace.” But “redditis
armis suis” would rather mean that Eadward returned to Godwine the arms
which Godwine had laid at his feet (p. 334). The restoration of the
official axe was not unlikely to be the outward sign of the restoration
of the office itself. Again, it may be asked whether “sapientium
consilio usus” means merely “following the advice of wise men,” or
whether it is a technical expression, “in accordance with the decree of
the Witan.” In a simpler writer I should be inclined to take it in the
latter sense; but the Biographer, if he had chosen to talk directly
about the Witan at all, would probably have used some more rhetorical
phrase. Besides we have already, in the course of the story, read in the
Chronicles of “wise men,” where the reference is clearly not to official
but to personal wisdom.
There is certainly something very striking in the way in which our
account of this great event has to be put together from several
independent accounts, and in the amount of precision, even in very
minute points, which we are able to reach by carefully comparing one
with another. It is hardly necessary to collect together the shapes
which the story takes in later writers, but I cannot pass by the way in
which the Winchester annalist (p. 25) weaves the return of Godwine into
the legend of Emma, which he places in 1043 (see above, p. 570). Eadward
recalls Godwine at the prayer of his mother; “Precibus matris suæ
revocavit Godwinum Comitem et filios ejus ab exsilio, et conceptum in
eos rancorem remisit ad plenum, et singulis honores suos reddidit.”
Selden also (Titles of Honour, pp. 525, 526) seems to have confounded
this reconciliation between Eadward and Godwine with that imaginary
reconciliation soon after Eadward’s election of which Bromton is so
full. See vol. i. p. 574.
The story adopted by some writers, ancient and modern, about Godwine
giving his son Wulfnoth and his grandson Hakon as hostages to the King,
by whom they were immediately handed over to the keeping of Duke
William, I mention here only lest I should seem to have forgotten it. It
is part of the story of Harold’s oath, which I shall discuss at large in
my next volume.
NOTE T. p. 338.
THE PILGRIMAGE OF SWEGEN.
I cannot help noticing the strange perversion of the story of Swegen
which has been adopted by a writer generally so accurate as Dr. Lingard.
“But to Sweyn,” he tells us (i. 341), “Eadward was inexorable. He had
been guilty of a most inhuman and perfidious murder; and seeing himself
abandoned by his family, he submitted to the discipline of the
ecclesiastical canons.” This seems to come from Roger of Wendover (i.
491); “Rex ... pristinum honorem restituit Godwino et filiis ejus
omnibus, præter Suanum, qui Beornum peremerat Regis [sic] consobrinum,
unde, _pœnitentiam agens_, de Flandriâ nudis pedibus Hierosolymam
petens, in reditu suo per viam defunctus est.” This would most naturally
mean that Swegen set out on his pilgrimage after the restoration of his
family, and it might also seem to imply that the pilgrimage was an
imposed penance. But there is no doubt that Swegen had already set out
for Jerusalem before his father left Flanders, and the expressions of
the best writers seem to show that the penance was altogether
self-imposed. On the former point the words of the Abingdon Chronicle
(1052) are decisive; “Swegen _for æror_ to Hierusalem of Bricge.” So
Florence (1052), who also gives a hint on the other point; “Ille enim
_ductus pœnitentiâ_, eo quod, ut prælibavimus, consobrinum suum Beorn
occiderat, de Flandriâ nudis pedibus Jerusalem _jam adierat_.” William
of Malmesbury (ii. 200; see above, p. 102) does not mention the time,
but says that he went “_pro conscientiâ_ Brunonis cognati interempti.”
About the chronology then there is no doubt, and there is no reason to
suppose that the pilgrimage was other than a self-imposed one. Swegen,
in short, if a great criminal, was also a great penitent, and it is
rather hard to deprive him of that character in order to exalt Saint
Eadward and the ecclesiastical canons. Eadward had no opportunity of
being inexorable; Swegen’s family had no opportunity of abandoning him;
he probably did not need the discipline of the ecclesiastical canons;
his own conscience had already pronounced sentence upon him. It was
probably Florence’s expression “pœnitentiâ ductus” which suggested
Roger’s “pœnitentiam agens,” and from the latter Dr. Lingard clearly got
his idea of the ecclesiastical canons.
Thierry (i. 201) seems, contrary to the best accounts, but in conformity
with a possible interpretation of Roger, to bring Swegen to the Gemót,
and to make him banish himself there; “Tous les membres de cette famille
populaire rentrèrent dans leurs honneurs, à l’exception d’un seul, de
Sweyn, qui y renonça volontairement.” Out of this view Lord Lytton
(Harold, i. 196 et seqq.) has made a fine scene.
The Abingdon Chronicle makes Swegen die at Constantinople;
Florence places his death in Lykia. He adds that he died of the
cold—“invalitudine ex nimio frigore contractâ.” Florence, writing
with the Abingdon Chronicle before him, could have no motive to
change the well known Constantinople into the less known Lykia,
unless he had good information that Lykia really was the place.
But the Chronicler might very easily put Constantinople, a
thoroughly familiar name, instead of Lykia, of which he had
perhaps never heard. William of Malmesbury (ii. 200) has quite
another story; “A Saracenis circumventus et ad mortem cæsus est.”
A close parallel to the pilgrimage of Swegen is found in that of Lagman
(on the name see vol. i. p. 510) King of Man, 1075–1093 (Munch, p. 4);
“Rebellavit autem contra eum Haraldus frater ejus multo tempore. Sed
tandem captus a Lagmanno, genitalibus et oculis privatus est. Post hæc
Lagmannus, pœnitens quod fratris sui oculos eruisset, sponte regnum suum
dimisit, et signo crucis dominicæ insignitus, iter Jerosolimitanum
arripuit, quo et mortuus est.”
NOTE U. p. 342.
THE ECCLESIASTICAL POSITION OF STIGAND.
Stigand, as might have been expected, is as favourite an object of
Norman abuse as Godwine himself. And abuse of Stigand is one degree more
reasonable than abuse of Godwine. For, though Stigand’s conduct seems to
have in no way infringed the laws of England, and though it might easily
have been justified by abundance of English precedents, there can be no
doubt that it offended against the strict laws of the Church as
understood by continental canonists. Of the mingled state of English
feeling with regard to him I have spoken in several passages of the text
(see above, pp. 343, 432, 446); I will here bring together some of the
chief authorities on the subject.
The offences of Stigand, as seen in the eye of the Canon Law, are thus
stated by Florence, when recording his degradation in 1070;
“Stigandus Doruberniæ archiepiscopus degradatur tribus ex caussis,
scilicet, quia episcopatum Wintoniæ cum archiepiscopatu injustè
possidebat; et quia, vivente archiepiscopo Roberto, non solum
archiepiscopatum sumpsit, sed etiam ejus pallium, quod Cantwariæ
remansit, dum vi injustè ab Angliâ pulsus est, in missarum celebratione
aliquamdiu usus est; et post à Benedicto, quem sancta Romana ecclesia
excommunicavit, eo quod pecuniis sedem apostolicam invasit, pallium
accepit.”
On Stigand’s plurality of Bishopricks, an offence in which he was far
from standing alone, William of Malmesbury, as might be expected, gets
more rhetorical, and yet, after all, he seems to see that, as things
went, there was nothing so very monstrous in it. He mentions the matter
in the Gesta Regum, ii. 199;
“Invasit continuò, illo [Roberto] vivente, Stigandus, qui erat episcopus
Wintoniæ, archiepiscopatum Cantuariensem; infamis ambitûs pontifex, et
honorum ultra debitum appetitor, qui, spe throni excelsioris,
episcopatum Saxonum Australium deserens, Wintoniam insederit, illam
quoque cum archiepiscopatu tenuerit.”
But in the Gesta Pontificum (116 _b_), after a good deal of abuse, he
gets somewhat mollified;
“Nonne illud belluinæ rapacitatis dices, quod Wintoniæ episcopatum et
Cantuariæ archiepiscopatum, præterea multas abbatias [see Hist. Eliens.
ii. 41] solus ipse possidebat, quæ singula satis superque sufficerent
alicui probo viro? Sed ego conjicio illum non judicio sed errore
peccâsse, quod homo illiteratus (sicuti plerique et penè omnes tunc
temporis Angliæ Episcopi) nesciret quantùm delinqueret, rem
ecclesiasticorum negotiorum sicut publicorum actitari existimans.”
The feeling on the subject among strict churchmen comes out very
forcibly in the words of the Abingdon Chronicler in 1053, when he
records the foreign consecration of Wulfwig and Leofwine; “On ðisson
geare næs ná arcebisceop on ðissan lande, butan Stigand bisceop heold
þæt bisceoprice on Cantwarabyrig on Christes cyrcean, and Kynsige on
Eoforwic; and Leofwine and Wulfwi foran ofer sæ and leton hig hadian hær
to bisceopum.” I suppose all that is meant about Cynesige is that he had
not yet received the pallium, as I do not know of any objection having
been made to his appointment. The Waltham writer (De Inventione, c. 16)
has an expression which in a contemporary writer would be still more
forcible. He tells us that Harold had his minster consecrated by
Cynesige, “quia tunc vacabat sedes Cantuariæ.” But, a hundred years
later, the words may simply imply an imperfect understanding of the
facts.
I have mentioned in their proper places the various Bishops who declined
consecration at the hands of Stigand, and sought it elsewhere (see pp.
343, 453). The most important instance is that of Saint Wulfstan (see p.
466), on account of the distinct, though at first sight apparently
contradictory, evidence which we have on the subject. I think that the
distinct statement of Florence (1062) cannot be got over. It runs thus;
“Consecratus est igitur Episcopus à venerando Aldredo Eboracensium
Archiepiscopo, eò quòd Stigando Doruberniæ Archiepiscopo officium
episcopale tunc à Domino Apostolico interdictum erat, quia, Rodberto
Archiepiscopo vivente, archiepiscopatum suscipere præsumpsit; canonicâ
tamen professione præfato Dorubernensi Archiepiscopo Stigando, non suo
ordinatori Aldredo, factâ.”
This seems to show that, in Florence’s belief, the Legates brought with
them a distinct and fresh decree against Stigand (“officium ... _tunc_
interdictum est.” Cf. Vita Wlstani, Ang. Sacr. ii. 251; “Quod
Cantuariensi Stigando Romanus Papa interdixisset officio”); that
Wulfstan, in obedience to the Papal orders, refused consecration at the
hands of Stigand, but that he nevertheless made canonical profession to
him as the _de facto_ Archbishop. Now this account is not a mere _obitèr
dictum_ of Florence; it is one of those statements of his which have a
controversial force. It is evidently meant as an answer to some other
statement; it is akin to his memorable description of Harold’s election
and coronation, in which every word disposes of some Norman calumny. It
expresses, in short, the deliberate conviction of a man of local
knowledge and sound judgement. On the other hand, the words of the later
profession of Wulfstan to Lanfranc (a document which is not printed, but
for a copy of which I have to thank Professor Stubbs) seem to deny that
he had ever made any earlier profession at all. His words are;
“Quo tempore ego Wulstanus ad Wigorniensem Wicciorum urbem sum ordinatus
episcopus, sanctam Dorobernensem ecclesiam, cui omnes antecessores meos
constat fuisse subjectos, Stigandus jampridem invaserat, metropolitanum
ejusdem sedis vi et dolo expulerat, usumque pallii quod ei abstulit
contemptâ apostolicæ sedis auctoritate temerare præsumpserat. Unde à
Romanis Pontificibus, Leone, Victore, Stephano, Nicolao, Alexandro,
vocatus, excommunicatus, damnatus est. Ipse tamen, ut cœpit, in sui
cordis obstinatione permansit. Per idem tempus jussa eorum Pontificum in
Anglicam terram delata sunt prohibentium nequis ei episcopalem
reverentiam exhiberet, aut ad eum ordinandus accederet. Quo tempore
Anglorum præsules, alii Romam, nonnulli Franciam sacrandi petebant;
quidam vero, ad vicinos coepiscopos accedebant. Ego autem Alredum
Eboracensis ecclesiæ antistitem adii; professionem tamen de canonicâ
obedientiâ usque ad præsente diem facere distuli.”
I suspect that Wulfstan meant to say that he had made no profession to
_Ealdred_, and that Lanfranc, or some cunning foreign clerk, wrapped the
matter up in the folds of a subtilty which the English Bishop most
likely did not above half understand. A document which ventures to say
that Stigand—and not the English people—drove Robert into exile could
hardly be the genuine composition of the chosen friend of Harold. The
simplicity of the saint was doubtless imposed upon, and his hand was set
to a paper which gave a false view of the case. Florence seemingly
thought it his duty to put a counter-statement on record.
NOTE W. p. 351.
THE DEATH OF EARL GODWINE.
The Biographer gives no details of the death of Godwine. He merely says
(408) that he died in the year after his return (“reconciliatis ergo
Duce et ejus filiis cum Rege, et omni patriâ in pacis tranquillitate
conquiescente, secundo post hæc anno, obiit idem Dux felicis memoriæ”).
He then mentions the grief of the nation, the Earl’s solemn burial in
the Old Minster (“tumulatur condigno honore in monasterio, quod
nuncupant, veteri Wintoniæ”), and the offerings made for the repose of
his soul.
All the Chronicles mention the Earl’s death. The Winchester Chronicle,
in one of its rare entries at this time, says simply, “1053. Her Godwine
Eorl forðferde.” The late Canterbury Chronicle adds the exact date;
“1053. Her was Godwine Eorl dead on xvii. Kal. Mai.” Peterborough adds
the place of burial; “1053. Her on þisum geare forðferde Godwine Eorl on
xvii. Kal. Mai, and he is bebyrged on Winceastre on ealda mynstre.” But
it is from the Worcester, and still more from the Abingdon Chronicler,
that we learn the details which I have followed in the text, and on a
perversion of which the Norman romance is evidently founded. The
Worcester writer’s account (1053) is put out of place, after events
which happened later in the year. He tells us that the Earl was taken
ill while he sat with the King at Winchester “him geyfelode þær he mid
þam cynge sæt on Wincestre”). The Abingdon Chronicler is much fuller. He
mentions the death of Godwine twice. First, in 1052, he gives us the
very important fact that the Earl began to sicken soon after his return
(see above, p. 348), and it is here that he makes his complaint of
Godwine’s spoliations of holy places (see above, p. 545). Under 1053 he
gives the story of his death. The King is at Winchester at Easter, and
Godwine, Harold, and Tostig (“Godwine Eorl, and Harold Eorl his sunu,
and Tostig.” See p. 567 on the way of describing the two brothers) are
with him. He then goes on,
“Ða on oðran Easter dæge sæt he mid þam Cynincge æt gereorde; þa færinga
sah he niðer wið þæs fotsetles spræce benumen, and ealre his mihte; and
hine man ða brǽd into ðæs Kinges bure, and ðohtan þæt hit ofergán
sceolde; ac hit næs na swa, ac þurhwunode swa unspecende and mihteleas
forð oð þone Ðunresdæg, and ða his lif alét, and he lið þær binnan
ealdan mynstre.”
Florence (1053) translates this account, with the addition of one or two
touches;
“Eodem anno, dum secunda paschalis festivitatis celebraretur feria
Wintoniæ, Godwino Comiti, _more solito_ Regi ad mensam assidenti,
suprema evenit calamitas, _gravi etenim morbo ex improviso percussus_,
mutus in ipsâ sede declinavit. Quod _filii ejus, Comes Haroldus, Tosti,
et Gyrth videntes_, illum in Regis cameram portabant, sperantes eum post
modicum de infirmitate convalescere; sed ille expers virium, quintâ post
hæc feriâ, _miserabili cruciatu_ vitâ decessit, et in veteri monasterio
sepultus est.”
I am not sure that we do not here, in our own Florence, find the first
touches of romance, or rather the first influence of the romantic tales
which were doubtless already afloat in his time. He leaves out the
mention of Godwine’s previous illness, he enlarges on the suddenness of
the stroke, and he adds the “miserabilis cruciatus,” of which we hear
nothing in the Chronicles, and which seems to come from the death of
Harthacnut (see vol. i. p. 591).
We are now fairly landed in the region of romance. The sudden death of
Godwine at the royal table probably suggested the thought of that form
of ordeal in which the guilt or innocence of the accused person was
tested by his power of swallowing a morsel, blessed or cursed for the
purpose. It is possible that the tale of Ælfred the conspirator against
Æthelstan was not forgotten. Ælfred, according to the story (Will.
Malms. ii. 137), was in the like manner struck before the altar after
his false oath before Pope John, and died on the third day. The legend
of Godwine appears in shapes in which both these sources can be
recognized. According to William of Malmesbury (ii. 197), Eadward and
Godwine were sitting at table discoursing about the King’s late brother
Ælfred (“orto sermone de Elfredo regis fratre”); Godwine says that he
believes that the King still suspects him of having had a hand in his
death (“Tu, Rex, ad omnem memoriam germani, rugato me vultu video quod
aspicias”); but he prays God that the morsel which he has in his hand
may choke him (“non patiatur Deus, ut istam offam transglutiam”) if he
had ever done anything tending to Ælfred’s danger or to the King’s
damage (“ad ejus periculum, vel tuum incommodum”). Of course the morsel
does choke him, and he dies then and there; he is dragged from under the
table by his son Harold, who is in attendance on the King (“qui Regi
adstabat”), and is buried in the cathedral of Winchester (“in episcopatu
Wintoniæ”). The moral of course is not wanting—“Deum monstrâsse quam
sancto animo Godwinus servierit;” but it is only fair to William to say
that his infinitive mood shows that he is telling the tale only as part
of the Norman version of Godwine’s history (see above, p. 536).
The Hyde writer (p. 289) tells the story in a shape which is still more
distinctly borrowed from the story of Ælfred. The scene is changed to
London. Godwine sees that the King’s mind is still kept back from a
thorough reconciliation by the remembrance of the death of his brother
(“animadvertens animum Regis Edwardi pro injustâ fratris sui
interfectione erga se non esse sincerum”). He therefore constantly tries
to regain his favour by frequent assertions of his innocence. He and the
King are present in a church at the time of mass; Godwine, of his own
free will (“nullo cogente sed ipso Rege cum Principibus vehementer
admirante”), steps forward to the altar, takes the chalice in his hand,
and pledges himself by a solemn oath (“cunctis audientibus inaudito se
juramento constrinxit”) that he had had no share in the death of Ælfred.
The King and the Earl then go to dinner, and the rest of the story is
told in nearly the same way as by William of Malmesbury, only in a
rather more impressive style. The morsel sticks in Godwine’s throat
(“buccellam ori impositam, urgente eum divino judicio, nec glutere
potuit, nec revertere, sed in amentiam versus terribiliter cœpit
exspirare”). Harold, who, as in the other version, is in attendance on
the King (“qui servitoris officio Regi adstabat”), carries him out while
still breathing (“jam extremum spiritum trahentem, foras asportavit”).
In Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 760 B) the chief difference from the
version of William of Malmesbury is that the death of Ælfred is not
mentioned. The scene is removed to Windsor (“apud Windleshores, ubi
plurimùm manere solebat”); the conversation at dinner between the King
and the Earl turns upon Godwine’s supposed treasons against the King
himself, a subject quite as strange as the death of Ælfred; Godwine
(“gener suus et proditor, recumbens juxta eum”) seemingly volunteers the
remark that he has been often falsely accused of plotting against the
King, but that he trusts that, if there be a true and just God in
heaven, he will make the piece of bread choke him, if he ever did so
plot. The true and just God, we are told, heard the voice of the
traitor, who, as the chronicler charitably adds, “eodem pane
strangulatus mortem prægustavit æternam.”
But there was something very lame in both these shapes of the story. Why
should Eadward and Godwine choose as the subject of their discourse the
topics which of all others one would have thought that both of them
would have wished to avoid? Why should either Eadward or Godwine, in the
familiar intercourse of the dinner-table, fall talking either about the
murder of Ælfred or about any other treasonable doings of the Earl?
William and Henry give us no clue. The Hyde writer solves the
difficulty, but in rather a desperate way. In the next stage of the
legend the explanation is much more ingeniously supplied. Some teller of
the story lighted on an ancient legend which William of Malmesbury had
recorded in its proper place (ii. 139), but which he had not thought of
transferring to this. There was an old scandal against King Æthelstan,
to the effect that he exposed his brother Eadwine at sea, on a false
charge of conspiracy brought by his cup-bearer. Seven years after, the
cup-bearer, handing wine to the King, slips with one foot, recovers
himself with the other, and adds the witty remark, “So brother helps
brother.” But King Æthelstan is thereby minded how this same man had
made him deprive himself of the help of _his_ brother, and he takes care
that, however strong he may be on his feet, he shall presently be
shorter by the head, which had no brother to help it. This story (of
which I have spoken in an article in the Fortnightly Review, May 1,
1866) is worked into the legend of Godwine by Æthelred of Rievaux (X
Scriptt. 395), in the French Life of Eadward (3253 et seqq. p. 117), in
Roger of Wendover (i. 492), the Winchester Annals (p. 25), Thomas
Rudborne’s Winchester History (Ang. Sacr. i. 239), Bromton (X Scriptt.
944), and Knighton (X Scriptt. 2333). In all these accounts we read,
with no difference of any importance, how, as Eadward and Godwine are at
table, the cup-bearer slips and recovers himself, how Godwine says, “So
brother helps brother,” how Eadward answers, “So might my brother Ælfred
have helped me, but for the treason of Godwine.” The Earl’s
protestations of innocence, and the fearful test which he offers, have
now a certain propriety, and the rest of the story follows much as in
William of Malmesbury. The ball however has grown somewhat in its
rollings, and some characteristically strong language is put into the
mouth of the Saint. “Drag out the dog” (“extrahite canem,” or “canem
istum”) is the King’s terse command, as it appears in Æthelred and
Bromton. In the French Life this is, by a slight improvement, developed
into “this stinking dog” (“treiez hors ceu chen punois”); while in most
of the versions Eadward goes on to order his father-in-law to be buried
in the highway, as unworthy of Christian burial (“extrahite canem hunc
et proditorum et illum in quadrivio sepelite, indignus est ut
Christianam habeat sepulturam”). The burial in the Old Minster was, we
are assured by Roger of Wendover, done wholly without the King’s
knowledge (“Rege id penitus ignorante”). One or two other smaller points
may be noticed. Bromton and Knighton, like Henry of Huntingdon, transfer
the story to Windsor, and the Winchester Annals more strangely transfer
it to Odiham. Roger of Wendover and Thomas Rudborne make the King bless
the morsel, before Godwine takes it; and the latter mentions another
version, according to which it was blessed by Saint Wulfstan. The
presence of the Prior of Worcester at the royal banquet is not accounted
for. The Winchester Annals, with an obvious scriptural allusion, tell us
that with the morsel Satan entered into Godwine (“introivit in illum
Sathanas”). Lastly, Bromton turns the cup-bearer whose foot slips into
no less a person than the Earl of the East-Angles. One wonders that the
legend of the quarrel between Harold and Tostig was not dragged in here
also.
After all this, it is with some relief that one turns to honest Wace
(10595), who at least had the manliness to confess that there were
things which he did not know;
“Gwine poiz remist issi,
Li Reiz en paiz le cunsenti.
Jo ne sai cumbien i dura,
Maiz jo sai bien k’il s’estrangla
D’un morsel ke li Roiz chigna
Al’ aünie ù il mainga.”
Such is the rise and progress of this famous legend. I venture to think
that a better instance of the gradual growth of invention is hardly to
be found in the whole range of mythology.
NOTE X. p. 362.
THE WAR WITH MACBETH.
Several points of dispute are opened by Siward’s expedition against
Macbeth. In the popular story Macbeth is killed, and Malcolm is put in
full possession of the Kingdom of Scotland, as the immediate result of
the battle fought by Siward. On the other hand, authentic history makes
Malcolm wage a much longer struggle, as I have mentioned in the text.
The point which is left obscure is what share the English allies of
Malcolm took in the war after the defeat of Macbeth by Siward.
On the other hand, a question has been raised by Mr. E. W. Robertson,
whether the expedition of Siward had anything at all to do with the
restoration of Malcolm. I cannot look on this question as much more than
a cavil; still it may be as well to state the objection and the answer
to it, as coming first in chronological order, before examining the
other points.
1. The objection brought by Mr. Robertson (Scotland under her Early
Kings, i. 122, 123) against the commonly received view as to the objects
of Siward’s expedition seems to rest on no ground except that, as he
says, “neither the contemporary Irish annalist, nor the two MSS. of the
Chronicle which describe the expedition of Siward, allude to any cause
for it, or note any result beyond the immense booty acquired.” “They
never,” he adds, “mention the name of Malcolm or of the Confessor.”
Elsewhere (ii. 400) Mr. Robertson calls it an “expedition which appears
to have been directed against Macbeth on account of the protection he
has afforded to the Norman favourites of the Confessor.” Now this last
explanation is a mere conjecture of Mr. Robertson’s own. There is not a
scrap of evidence in support of it, while on the other side we have the
distinct statement of Florence. Florence tells us directly that one
object at least of Siward’s expedition was the restoration of Malcolm
(“Malcolmum, Regis Cumbrorum filium, ut Rex jusserat, Regem
constituit”). He is followed, in nearly the same words, by the Manx
Chronicler (1035, Munch, p. 3). Mr. Robertson’s conjecture seems to me
to be not only unsupported, but utterly improbable. There is nothing to
show that Macbeth had given any further offence by receiving the Norman
exiles. They had been allowed to go peaceably into Scotland (see above,
p. 346), and some of them had actually been recalled to England. That,
being in Scotland, they fought on the Scottish side, does not prove that
the war was in any way waged against them. To fight on behalf of the
side on which they found themselves for the moment was only the natural
conduct of Normans anywhere. And, besides all this, the whole story of
these Norman exiles rests on the authority of Florence. It is from him
alone that we learn that they took any part in the battle, or indeed
that there were any Norman exiles in Scotland at all. If the authority
of Florence is good to prove these points, it is surely equally good to
prove the objects of the expedition. And it is not merely the authority
of Florence; it is Florence confirmed by Simeon of Durham, our best
authority for all Northern matters (see X Scriptt. 187). That the
Chronicles are silent on some points, that the Peterborough Chronicle is
silent altogether, will amaze no one who remembers how capriciously
Scottish and Northumbrian affairs are entered or not entered in our
national annals. The Abingdon and Worcester Chroniclers were struck with
the general greatness of Siward’s exploit, but the cause of Malcolm had
no interest for them. The Peterborough Chronicler, the sworn partizan of
the house of Godwine, did not trouble himself to take any notice of an
event which neither enhanced the glory of Harold nor touched the
interests of his own abbey. But the fact that Simeon held Florence’s
narrative to be worth copying without addition or alteration at once
stamps its authenticity. Simeon’s approval at once sets aside all
negative arguments, all talk about the “misrepresentations of
Anglo-Norman writers,” whoever may be meant by that name.
Mr. Burton (i. 373) seems to have no doubt about the matter.
2. The nature of Siward’s troops is well marked in the language of the
different accounts. The _here_ and the _fyrd_ are clearly distinguished.
The Worcester Chronicle (1054) says, “Her ferde Siward Eorl mid miclum
_here_ on Scotland, ægðer ge mid _sciphere_ and mid _landfyrde_.” This
Florence translates, “Strenuus Dux Northhymbrorum Siwardus, jussu Regis,
cum _equestri exercitu_ et classe validâ Scottiam adiit.” Then, in
describing the slaughter of the English, Abingdon says, “Eac feol mycel
on his [Siwardes] healfe _ægðer ge Densce ge Englisce_.” So Florence,
“Multi _Anglorum et Danorum_ ceciderunt.” The Worcester Chronicle says,
“And of _his_ [Siwardes] _huscarla_ and of þæs cynges wurdon þær
ofslægene.” I take the _here_, the _housecarls_, and the _equestris
exercitus_, all to be the same thing, and I take the “Danish and
English” of one account to answer to the “Housecarls of the Earl and of
the King” in the other. The Housecarls were doubtless an “equestris
exercitus” in the sense of which I spoke in vol. i. p. 566. They did not
fight on horseback, but they, or many of them, rode to battle (see also
vol. i. p. 298), while the levies of the shires, no doubt, for the most
part walked. The King’s Housecarls, we see, were wholly or mainly
Englishmen, chiefly no doubt West-Saxons; those of the Earl would
doubtless be Danes in the sense of being inhabitants of the _Denalagu_,
some perhaps in the sense of being actually adventurers from Denmark.
The Housecarls now clearly take the place of the old _comitatus_; the
stress of the battle now falls mainly on them, just as of old it fell on
the noble youths who fought around Brihtnoth (see vol. i. pp. 91, 298,
490). So, on the Scottish side, we read in the Worcester Chronicle that
Siward “feaht wið Scottas ... and ofsloh _eall þæt þer betst wæs_ on þam
lande.” The special mention of the Normans comes from Florence; “Multis
millibus Scottorum, et _Nortmannis omnibus_, quorum suprà fecimus
mentionem, occisis.” The Ulster Annals (Johnston, 69; O’Conor, Rer. Hib.
Scriptt. iv. 334) speak of this battle as “prœlium inter viros Albaniæ
et Saxones.” They undertake to give us the numbers of the slain, three
thousand on the Scottish side, and fifteen hundred “Saxons.”
3. That Siward lost a son in the battle is asserted by the Abingdon
Chronicler and by Florence; but they do not give his name. The Worcester
writer is more express. Among the slain were “his sunu Osbarn and his
sweoster sunu Sihward.” The story of Siward asking about his son’s
wounds is told, and well told, by Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 760 A)
and Bromton (X Scriptt. 946). But Henry carries back the story to the
year 1052, and both he and Bromton conceive Osbeorn _Bulax_, as Bromton
calls him, to have died in an earlier expedition in which his father had
no share. Siward, hearing a satisfactory report of the manner of his
son’s death, goes in person and avenges him (“Siwardus igitur in Scotiam
proficiscens, Regem bello vicit, regnum totum destruxit, destructum sibi
subjugavit”). If there is any meaning in this wild exaggeration, the
subjection of Scotland to Siward must mean the establishment of Siward’s
kinsman Malcolm as King. But it is hard to make the story of Osbeorn’s
death and Siward’s inquiries fit in with the fact that Osbeorn died in a
battle in which Siward himself was present. According to the analogies
of Maldon and Senlac, the Earl, his son, and his nephew would stand near
together in the fight, and there would be no need of messengers to
announce the manner of Osbeorn’s death.
Bromton has also preserved another tradition about the death of Osbeorn,
which is palpably mythical as it stands, but which seems, in common with
several other hints, to point to a strong feeling of disaffection
towards Siward as rife in Northumberland. Siward goes into Scotland,
leaving Osbeorn as his representative in his Earldom. After his victory
he hears that the Northumbrians have revolted and killed his son. He
then, in his wrath, performs an exploit like that of Roland in the
Pyrenees (“Siwardus inde iratus in scopulo adhuc patente cum securi
percussit”); he gives Scotland to Donald (inaccurately for Malcolm), and
returns to Northumberland to take a stern vengeance on his enemies
(“patriam rediit et inimicos suos in ore gladii percussit”).
4. As to the result of the battle, there can be no doubt. Macbeth was
defeated, but not killed. But the false account followed by Shakespere
(who also confounds Osbeorn with his cousin the younger Siward) is as
old as William of Malmesbury. He speaks (ii. 196) of “Siwardus
Northimbrensium [Comes], qui jussu ejus [Edwardi] cum Scotorum Rege
Macbethâ congressus, _vitâ_ regnoque spoliavit, ibidemque Malcolmum,
filium Regis Cumbrorum, Regem instituit.” It is singular that William
should have fallen into an error which not only contradicts the earlier
authorities, but which has been avoided by many writers much later and
more careless than himself. The agreement on this head is complete. The
escape of Macbeth is implied in the words of the Worcester Chronicle
(“Siward ... feaht wið Scottas and _aflymde_ þone kyng Macbeoðen”) and
of Florence (“illum _fugavit_”); and it is still plainer in the Abingdon
version (“Siward ... mycel wæl of Scottum gesloh, and hig aflymde, and
_se cing ætbærst_”) and in the Biographer (“Rex Scottorum nomine
barbarus ... à Siwardo Duce usque ad internecionem penè suorum devictus
et _in obscœnam fugam est versus_.” p. 416). The story in Henry of
Huntingdon and Bromton, as we have seen, speaks only of a victory over
Macbeth, not of his death. Fordun (v. 7) is equally clear. He quotes and
rejects William of Malmesbury’s account, and tells us that Macbeth
“partibus subitò relictis australibus boreales petiit, ubi terrarum
angustis anfractibus et silvarum abditis tutiùs sperabat se tueri.” He
adds that the Scots, unwilling to fight against Malcolm, fled at the
first sound of the trumpet, quite a different picture from the hard
fought fight spoken of by the English and Irish writers.
5. The distinct statement of Florence that Siward made Malcolm King
(“Regem constituit”) does not seem to me to be at all contradicted by
the facts that the war lingered on several years, and that Malcolm was
not solemnly crowned at Scone till after the death of the competitor who
succeeded Macbeth. The result of the battle doubtless was that Malcolm
was acknowledged King of Scots by the English King, by at least his own
English subjects in Lothian, and probably by the southern parts of
Scotland proper (“partes australes” in Fordun just above). But the war
still went on in the North. It is worth notice that Florence is
satisfied with the practical expression of Eadward’s supremacy—“ut Rex
jusserat, Regem constituit.” But Roger of Wendover (i. 493), in whose
time the homage of Scotland was becoming a matter of debate, is more
special and more feudal in his language. He improves the statement of
Florence into “Rex regnum Scotiæ dedit Malcolmo, Cumbrorum Regis filio,
de se tenendum.”
6. The remaining events of the war I have described in the text. Our
accounts are very meagre, but there can, I think, be little doubt that
Malcolm continued to be powerfully supported by English help under
Tostig, the successor of Siward. That such was the case is distinctly
affirmed by Eadward’s Biographer (416), though, as usual, he wraps his
story in such a cloud of words that we cannot make out much as to time,
place, or circumstance. Macbeth, the King whose barbarous name he cannot
write or remember, was first (“primùm”) defeated by Siward, then by
Tostig. “Secundò, ducatum agente Duce Tostino, quum eum Scotti
intentatum haberet, et ob hoc in minori pretio habitum, latrocinio
potiùs quam bello sæpiùs lacesserent; incertum genus hominum, silvisque
potiùs quam campo, fugæ quoque magis fidens quam audaciæ virili in
prælio, tam prudenti astutiâ quam virtute bellicâ et hostili
expeditione, cum salute suorum prædictus Dux attrivit, ut cum Rege eorum
delegerint ei Regique Ædwardo magis servire quam rebellare, id quoque
per datos obsides ratum facere.” He then formally declines to go further
into the matter. The meaning of the passage is by no means clear. Indeed
I do not feel certain whether the Biographer has not confounded Macbeth
and Malcolm. It is hard to conceive any time when Macbeth can have given
hostages; Malcolm may have done so on his first appointment, or it is
possible, though we have no other account of it, that Malcolm’s raid in
1061 (see p. 459) may have been avenged by a Scottish expedition on the
part of Tostig. The Biographer’s authority on these matters, which he
seems purposely to slight, is far from being so great as it is when he
is dealing with those affairs of the Court which went on under his own
eye. Still his account shows that a Scottish war of some sort or other,
whether against Macbeth or against Malcolm, went on under Tostig as well
as under Siward.
The sworn brotherhood again between Tostig and Malcolm (see p. 384) can
hardly have any other reference than to a joint war against Macbeth.
There is also a statement in Fordun (v. 8), which, though utterly
confused as it stands, may probably help us to an important fact. Fordun
clearly conceived Siward as continuing to wage war in Scotland after the
battle of 1054, for he describes him as being summoned back by Eadward
to help in the war against Gruffydd, after the destruction of Hereford
in 1055 (“Hoc statim Siwardus, postquam à suo Rege per certum audierat
nuncium, confestim jussus domi rediit, nequaquam ulteriùs Malcolmo ferre
præsidium rediturus”). Now Siward died in 1055, before the war in
Herefordshire began; but, if we read Tostig for Siward, a summons to the
Welsh war is in every way probable.
Fordun, though he preserves the fact of Macbeth’s escape from the battle
of 1054, confounds that battle with the battle of Lumfanan in 1058, and
places them together in 1056, on December 5th (v. 7). Nevertheless he
makes (v. 8) the battle to have happened at the same time as Gruffydd’s
destruction of Hereford in 1055. But Siward’s battle is fixed by the
English Chronicles to 1054, and the battle in which Macbeth died is
equally fixed by the Irish Chronicles to 1058. So the Ulster Annals;
“Macbeath filius Finnliachi, supremus Rex Albaniæ, occisus est à
Malcolmo filio Donnchadi in prœlio.” (See also Robertson, i. 123;
Burton, i. 373.) The successor of Macbeth is called by Fordun (v. 8)
“suus [Machabei] consobrinus, nomine Lulach, cognomine Fatuus.”
Tigernach calls him “Lulacus Rex Albaniæ,” and fixes his death, which
was “per dolum,” to 1058. The Ulster Annals call him “Mac Gil Comgen”
(see Robertson, i. 120). Mr. Burton (i. 374) calls him a son of Gruach.
The coronation of Malcolm comes from Fordun (v. 9). Cf. O’Conor’s note
on the Ulster Annals, Rer. Hib. Scriptt. iv. 338.
NOTE Y. p. 370.
THE MISSION OF EALDRED AND THE RETURN OF THE ÆTHELING EADWARD.
The sources of our information with regard to Bishop Ealdred’s mission
to the Imperial Court curiously illustrate the occasionally deficient
nature of our authorities, and the way in which one writer fills up gaps
in another. The mission of Ealdred in 1054 and the return of the
Ætheling in 1057 are both of them distinctly recorded in our national
Chronicles. They are indeed much more than recorded; each event finds at
least one Chronicler to dwell upon it with special interest. But from
the Chronicles alone we should never find out that there was any
connexion between the two events. The coming of the Ætheling is recorded
by the Peterborough writer, and it attracts the special attention of his
Worcester brother, who bursts into song on the occasion. But there is
not a word in either to connect his coming with the German mission of
Ealdred. About that mission the Peterborough writer is silent, just as
he is silent about the Scottish war of Siward. Abingdon (1054) records
Ealdred’s journey, but says only, “On þam ylcan geare ferde Ealdred
biscop suð ofer sǽ into Sexlande, and wearð þær mid mycelre arwarðnesse
underfangen.” From this account we might guess, but we could do no more
than guess, that Ealdred went in some public character. The Worcester
writer is naturally fuller on the doings of his own Bishop; still what
chiefly occupies his attention is the “mickle worship” with which
Ealdred was received by the Emperor, the long time that he was away, and
the arrangements which he made for the discharge of his duties during
his absence (see p. 372). He does indeed tell us that Ealdred went on
the King’s errand; but he does not tell us what the King’s errand was,
any more than he did in recording Ealdred’s earlier mission to Rome in
1049. His words are; “Ðæs ilcan geres for Aldred biscop to Colne ofer
sæ, _þæs kynges ærende_, and wearð þær underfangen mid mycclan
weorðscipe fram þam Casere, and þær he wunode wel neh an gér; and him
geaf ægðer þeneste, ge se biscop on Colone and se Casere.” So William of
Malmesbury (Vit. S. Wlst. Ang. Sacr. ii. 249) looks on the objects of
the embassy as best summed up in the Herodotean formula εἰδὼς οὐ λέγω.
Ealdred goes to the Emperor, “quædam negotia, quorum cognitionem caussa
non flagitat, compositurus.” But he has much to tell us about Ealdred’s
reception by the Emperor (“quum in Imperatoriæ Augustæ dignationis
oculis invenisset gratiam, aliquot ibi dierum continuatione laborum
suorum accepit pausam”), and still more about the presents which he
received. As the biographer of Wulfstan, he could not fail to tell us
about two service-books in which Wulfstan was deeply interested (see p.
462), and which Ealdred now received as a present from the Emperor. In
his history he does speak of an embassy to bring about the return of the
Ætheling, but he altogether misconceives the circumstances (see p. 371),
he makes no mention of Ealdred, and he fancies that the embassy went
direct to Hungary (“Rex Edwardus ... misit ad Regem Hunorum.” ii. 228).
It is from Florence, and from Florence only, that we get a complete and
accurate filling up of all our gaps. He tells us, under 1054, “Aldredus
Wigorniensis Episcopus ... magnis cum xeniis Regis fungitur legatione ad
Imperatorem, à quo simul et ab Herimanno Coloniensi archipræsule magno
susceptus honore, ibidem per integrum annum mansit, et Regis ex parte
Imperatori suggessit ut, legatis Ungariam missis, inde fratruelem suum
Eadwardum, Regis videlicet Eadmundi Ferrei Lateris filium, reduceret,
Angliamque venire faceret.” We now know what the King’s errand was on
which Ealdred was sent, and, knowing that it was to bring back the
Ætheling, we might guess for ourselves why the Ætheling was to be
brought back. But Florence afterwards expressly tells us this also,
under the year 1057; “Decreverat enim Rex illum post se regni hæredem
constituere.”
That Ealdred had Abbot Ælfwine for his companion in this embassy (see p.
372), I infer from a remarkable entry in Domesday (208) which can have
no other meaning. Land in Huntingdonshire is said to have been granted
by Eadward “Sancto Benedicto de Ramesy, propter unum servitium quod
Abbas Alwinus fecit ei in Saxoniâ.” I can conceive no other service in
Saxony which Ælfwine could have rendered to the King, save this share in
Ealdred’s mission to “Sexland.” Ælfwine’s former mission to Rheims is
not to the purpose, as no geography can put Rheims in Saxony. Nor do I
understand the remark of Sir Henry Ellis (i. 306), that we have here “an
allusion to the Confessor’s residence abroad before he came to the
throne.” What dealings had Eadward with Saxony in those days? The only
difficulty is that the local historian of Ramsey, who is very full on
the doings of Ælfwine, and who speaks of his going to Rheims, says
nothing of his embassy to Köln. But the silence of this writer has
equally to be explained on any other view of the “servitium in Saxoniâ.”
One would like to know a little more than we do about the residence of
the Æthelings in Hungary, and the position which they held there. We do
not know what became of their mother Ealdgyth, whether they were
accompanied by any English attendants, or whether they kept up any kind
of intercourse with England. Eadmund must have died young; at least this
seems to be implied by William of Malmesbury (ii. 180), who says that
the children reached Hungary “ubi, dum benignè aliquo tempore habiti
sunt, major diem obiit.” (“Processu temporis ibidem vitam finivit,” says
Florence, 1017.) But William’s ideas must have been a little confused,
as he makes the Æthelings themselves go to Hungary (“Hunorum Regem
petierunt”), as if they were capable of personal action, whereas it is
plain that they were still mere babes.
William of Malmesbury also makes Eadward marry a sister of the Queen of
the Hungarians. That is, I suppose, the meaning of his words, “Minor
Agatham Reginæ sororem in matrimonium accepit.” I have not found, in
such German and Hungarian writers as I have been able to refer to, any
mention of Eadward’s marriage, or indeed of his sojourn in Hungary at
all. But there is no doubt that the wife of Saint Stephen, who was
reigning in Hungary when the Æthelings came there, and who died in 1038,
was Gisla, called by the Hungarians Keisla, a sister of the Emperor
Henry the Second. See Ekkehard, ap. Pertz, vi. 192. Sigebert, Chron.
1010 (ap. Pertz, vi. 354); Annalista Saxo, 1002, 1038 (Pertz, vi. 650,
682). Thwrocz, Chron. Hung. ii. 30 (Scriptt. Rer. Hung. 96). Her sister
would therefore be a sister of the sainted Emperor himself, whose
Imperial reign lasted from 1014 to 1024. A sister of Henry and Gisla
could hardly fail to be many years older than Eadward, and we might have
expected to find some record of the marriage, whereas we do not even
find any sister of the Emperor Henry available for the purpose. There
can be no doubt that Agatha was not a sister, but a more distant
kinswoman of the Emperor, most probably a niece. The poem in the
Worcester Chronicle (1057) says more vaguely, “He begeat þæs Caseres
_mága_ to wife ... seo wæs Agathes gehaten:” and so again in the later
entry in 1067, “Hire [Margaret’s] modor cynn gæð to Heinrice Casere, þe
hæfde anwald ofer Rome.” Florence (1017) says more distinctly,
“Eadwardus Agatham, _filiam germani Imperatoris_ Heinrici in matrimonium
accepit.” Mr. Thorpe, in his note on the passage in Florence, following
Suhm, makes her the daughter of the Emperor’s brother Bruno, who was
Bishop of Augsburg from 1007 to 1029 (Ann. Aug. ap. Pertz, iii. 124,
125). The local Annals speak of him as “beatæ memoriæ;” but he seems to
have been a turbulent Prelate, and a great thorn in the side of his
Imperial brother. See Ekkehard, u. s. Arnold de Sancto Emmerammo, ii. 57
(ap. Pertz, iv. 571), Adalbold, Vit. Henr. II. c. 24 (ap. Pertz, iv.
689), Adalbert, Vit. Henr. II. 20 (ap. Pertz, iv. 805, 811). If this
genealogy be correct, later English royalty is connected with the
Old-Saxon stock in an unlooked for way.
Orderic has a more amazing version than all. He makes (701 D) the
Ætheling marry the daughter of Solomon, and receive the Kingdom of
Hungary as her dower. He distinctly calls Eadward King of the Huns; “Hæc
[Margarita] nimirùm filia fuit Eduardi Regis Hunorum, qui fuit filius
Edmundi cognomento Irnesidæ, fratris Eduardi Regis Anglorum, et exsul
conjugem accepit cum regno filiam Salomonis Regis Hunorum.”
The delay in the arrival of the Ætheling (see pp. 373, 409) was very
probably caused by the wars between the Empire and the Hungarian Kings
who succeeded Stephen. Before the war with Andrew mentioned in the text,
Henry the Third had an earlier Hungarian war, waged against the usurper
Ouban on behalf of Peter the predecessor of Andrew, by whom Peter was
blinded. See Lambert, 1041–1046. On the relations between Henry, Andrew,
and Conrad of Bavaria, see Hermann Contr. 1053 (ap. Pertz, v. 133),
whose account, as usual, it is not easy to reconcile with the Hungarian
traditions preserved by Thwrocz. But there must be something wrong when
Lappenberg (517) says, “Wahrscheinlich verzögerte die zwischen dem
Kaiser und dem König Andreas von Ungarn damals ausgebrochene Fehde,
sowie der Tod des Letztern, und bald darauf der des Kaisers, die
Ausführung dieses Planes.” The Emperor died in 1056; but Andrew, who
began to reign in 1047, did not die till 1060 or 1061, when he fell in
battle against his brother Bela, three or four years after the return
and death of Eadward in 1057. See Thwrocz, Rer. Hung. Scriptt. 108–112.
Lambert, 1061.
NOTE Z. p. 379.
THE SUPPOSED ENMITY BETWEEN HAROLD AND TOSTIG.
There is absolutely nothing in any trustworthy writer to lead us to
believe that there was any sort of quarrel between Harold and his
brother Tostig before the Northumbrian revolt in 1065. We have seen (p.
376) that Tostig’s appointment to his Earldom had, to say the least,
Harold’s active concurrence, and we shall find the two brothers acting
as zealous fellow-workers in the great Welsh war. Even at the time of
the revolt, we shall find Harold doing all that he could to reconcile
Tostig with his enemies. But the fact that the result of that revolt
made Tostig an enemy of his brother seems to have taken possession of
the minds of legendary writers, and a myth has grown up on this subject
akin to the myths which have attached themselves to so many other parts
of the history of Godwine and his house.
The earliest form of the legend seems to be that which it takes in
Æthelred (X Scriptt. 394). The King and Godwine are sitting at
dinner—everything seems to happen when the King and Godwine are sitting
at dinner—the two boys (“pueri adhuc”) Harold and Tostig are playing
before them, when suddenly the game becomes rather too rough (“amariùs
quam expetebat ludi suavitas”), and the play is changed into a fight.
Harold then, the stronger of the two, seizes his brother by the hair,
throws him on the ground, and is well nigh throttling him, when Tostig
is luckily carried off. The King turns to his father-in-law, and asks
him whether he sees nothing more in all this than the sports or quarrels
of two naughty boys. The unenlightened mind of the Earl can see nothing
more. But the Saint takes the occasion to prophesy, and he foretells the
war which would happen between the two brothers, and how the death of
the one would be avenged by the death of the other.
This story is at all events well put together, and it makes a very fair
piece of hagiology. It is however some objection to it that neither
Harold nor Tostig could have been a mere boy at any time after Eadward’s
accession. It might be too much to think that the author of the French
Life saw this difficulty, but at any rate he changes the “pueri adhuc”
of Æthelred into “juvenceus pruz e hardiz” (3140). Otherwise he tells
the story in exactly the same way, only enlarging with a little more of
Homeric precision on the details of the violence done by Harold to his
brother. But the story, like other stories, soon grew, and there is
another version of it, much fuller and much more impossible, which first
appears in Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 761 A), and afterwards in Roger
of Wendover (i. 507) and Bromton (948). The tale is now transferred to
the year 1064, when Harold and Tostig were the two greatest men in the
Kingdom, when Harold was probably the understood successor to the Crown,
when he was at any rate in all the glory of his victories over Gruffydd.
The two brothers are described as being at enmity, because, though
Tostig was the elder brother, Harold was the greater personal favourite
of the King “invidiæ namque et odii fomitem ministraverat, quod, quum
Tosti ipse primogenitus esset, arctiùs a rege frater suus diligeretur”).
I need hardly say how utterly the real position of the two brothers is
here reversed. The King is dining at Windsor, where Harold acts as
cup-bearer. Tostig, seeing the favour enjoyed by his brother, cannot
keep himself back from pulling his hair (“non potuit cohibere manus a
cæsarie fratris”). In Henry’s account Harold seems to bear the insult
quite patiently, but in the version of Roger of Wendover he not
unnaturally lifts Tostig up in his arms and throws him violently on the
floor (“in pavimentum truculenter projecit”). On this the King’s Thegns
(“milites”) rush together from all quarters, and put an end to the
strife between the renowned warriors (“bellatores inclitos ab invicem
diviserunt”). The King now foretells the destruction of the two
brothers, but in this version he of course foretells it as something
which is to happen speedily (“Rex perniciem eorum jam appropinquare
prædixit, et iram Dei jam non differendam”). It is here that both Henry
and Roger, and Bromton also, bring in that general complaint of the
wickedness of the sons of Godwine which I have quoted elsewhere (see p.
541). Tostig now hastens to Hereford, where Harold was preparing a great
feast for the King; he there kills all his brother’s servants, cuts them
in pieces, mixes their blood and flesh with the wine, ale, and mead
which was made ready for the feast, and sends a message to the King that
he need not bring any salted meat with him, as he will find plenty of
flesh ready at Hereford. On this Eadward orders Tostig into banishment.
The one faint glimmering of truth in all this seems to be that the
authors of the legend were clearly aware that in 1064 the Earldom of
Herefordshire was in the hands of Harold. R. Higden (Polychronicon, lib.
vi. Gale, ii. 281) tells the story in nearly the same words as the
earlier form, but he places it in 1056. Knighton (2333) seemingly does
the same, though he copies the words of his story from the version which
makes the disputants only naughty boys. M. de Bonnechose (ii. 116, 118)
seems to believe the whole story, and he makes it a subject of grave
political reflexions. Mr. Woodward (History of Wales, p. 214) thinks
that the cannibal doings of Tostig arise from some confusion with the
doings of Caradoc at Portskewet (see above, p. 480). This is possible,
but the details of the story belong to the province of Comparative
Mythology. They appear again in the well known Scottish legend of the
Douglas Larder.
It has sometimes struck me that a good deal of this talk is due to
an exaggerated misunderstanding of one or two passages in the
Biographer, where his classical vein has led him into rather wild
flights. The war between brother and brother—the war, of course, of
Stamfordbridge—reminds him of all the ancient tales of wars and
quarrels between brothers. He twice (pp. 414, 424) breaks out into
verse upon the subject, and, in both cases, the Theban legend, the
war of Eteoklês and Polyneikês, not unnaturally presents itself. But
he also (v. 834) talks about Cain and Abel, and, by a still more
unlucky allusion, about Atreus and Thyestês. Having once got hold of
these names, he goes on to tell their whole story. He personifies
discord between brothers, and thus apostrophizes the evil genius;
“Priscis nota satis tua sic contagia _ludis_.
Invidus hic prolis fraternæ fœda Thyestes
Prandia dat fratri depasto corpore nati.”
Here, it strikes me, is quite raw material enough for a legend-maker.
The word “ludis” may have suggested the “pueri ludentes” in Æthelred,
and I have very little doubt that the mention of Thyestês (who, by the
by, is made to change parts with Atreus) suggested the cannibal
preparations of Tostig at Hereford.
In several of these stories we see the pervading mistake of thinking
that Tostig was the elder brother. In some of them we also see the
notion, which turns up in several other quarters, that Harold was the
King’s personal favourite and attendant, his “dapifer,” “pincerna,”
“major domûs,” or something of the kind. It is possible that Harold in
his youth, during the first year or two of Eadward’s reign, may have
held some function of the kind, which may account for the tradition.
(Cf. p. 78, note 3.) But the notion that Tostig was the elder brother
(see above, p. 554) has led to far graver misrepresentations. The enmity
of Tostig towards Harold, which really arose out of the revolt of
Northumberland, gets mixed up with perverted accounts of Harold’s
election to the Kingdom. Orderic (492 D) seems to have fancied that
Tostig was not only the eldest son of Godwine, but that Tostig, and not
Harold, succeeded his father in the West-Saxon Earldom, and that by
hereditary right (“patris consulatus, quem Tosticus, quia major natu
erat, longo tempore sub Eduardo rege jam tenuerat”). On Harold’s
election as King, Tostig begins to reprove his brother for his
usurpation and oppressions (“advertens Heraldi fratris sui prævalere
facinus et regnum Angliæ variis gravari oppressionibus ægrè tulit”);
Harold accordingly deprives him of his Earldom and banishes him. The
strangest thing of all is that William of Malmesbury, who, in the proper
place (ii. 200), gives a very fair account of the Northumbrian revolt,
and one highly favourable to Harold, should afterwards (iii. 252)
represent Harold as banishing Tostig after his accession. After
Eadward’s death, he says “perstitit in incœpto Haroldus ut fratrem
exlegaret.” Snorro (Johnstone, 192, 193. Laing, iii. 77, 78) makes
Tostig the elder brother, the head Earl of the Kingdom, and the
commander of the King’s armies. Harold, the youngest brother, is
Eadward’s personal favourite, he is always about him, and—having
seemingly supplanted Hugolin the Frenchman—has the care of all his
treasures. Here again the real position of the two brothers is amusingly
transposed. On Harold’s election as King, Tostig, who had himself
aspired to the Crown, is much displeased, and has sharp words with his
brother. Harold of course refuses to surrender the Crown, and, fearing
the ability and popularity of Tostig, he deprives him of his command of
the army and of his precedence over other Earls. Tostig, unwilling to be
the subject of his brother, leaves the country of his own free will and
goes to Flanders. Saxo (207) is one degree less wild, in so far as he
realizes that Harold was the elder brother. In his version, after
Harold’s election, his younger brothers generally (“minores Godovini
filii majorem perosi”)—Gyrth and Leofwine no doubt as well as
Tostig—envious of their brother’s election and unwilling to submit to
his authority, leave the country and seek for help abroad.
It is needless to point out how, in all these versions, the chronology
is altered, as well as the whole circumstances of the story, in order to
represent Harold as the oppressor of his brother. But it should be
remarked that these calumnies are of a wholly different kind from the
calumnies which speak of an early quarrel, and that the two in effect
exclude one another. In the versions of Orderic, Saxo, and Snorro, the
enmity between the brothers does not begin till after Harold’s election
to the Kingdom.
It may be some refreshment to wind up with the amusing version of Peter
Langtoft, who, by the way, seems to have thought that Godwine was still
alive in 1065. He at least has no spite against Harold; he even (p. 64
Hearne) tells the story of the murder of Gospatric, the blame of which
he ventures to lay on the Lady Eadgyth (“My boke ... sais þe quene Egyn,
þe blame suld scho bere”); he then goes on;
“Tostus of Cumbirland retted Godwyn þer tille.
Tostus of Cumbirland he was chefe Justise,
Ageyn þe erle Godwyn he gert sette assise.
Gospatrike’s dede on Godwyn wild he venge,
Harald souht Tostus, to leue þat ilk challenge.
He praied him for luf, in pes lat him be stille,
And kisse and be gode frende in luf and in a wille.
Tostus wild not leue, bot held on his manace,
And Harald tened withalle, of lond he did him chace.”
NOTE AA. p. 391.
ÆTHELSTAN, BISHOP OF HEREFORD.
Professor Stubbs places the consecration of Æthelstan in 1012. This
seems to be the right year, because in that year we find his first
signature (“Æðelstanus episcopus,” Cod. Dipl. vi. 165), as well as the
last signature (Cod. Dipl. iii. 357) of his predecessor Athulf—he seems
always to use this contracted form. At first sight this date seems
inconsistent with a document in Cod. Dipl. iv. 234, one to which I have
already referred for another purpose (p. 563), in which “Eþelstan
Bisceop” is said to have bought lands in Worcestershire of
Leofric—perhaps the famous Earl while still a private man in his
father’s lifetime—the purchase of which was witnessed by the two
Archbishops Ælfheah and Wulfstan. Now Ælfheah, taken captive in
September 1011 (see vol. i. p. 385), can neither have consecrated
Æthelstan in 1012 nor yet have witnessed a purchase made by him in that
year. The transaction spoken of in the document must belong to an
earlier time. But the document itself was not written till long after.
Many years after the purchase (“æfter þysan manegum gearum”)—at some
time between the accession of Cnut and the death of Ealdorman
Leofwine—Wulfstan and his son Wulfric tried to disturb Æthelstan in its
possession, but a compromise was come to in the Scirgemót of
Worcestershire, in which Leofwine, Hakon (see p. 563), and Leofric were
present.
The explanation doubtless is that, in a deed drawn up so long after,
Æthelstan is spoken of by a title which belonged to him then, but which
did not belong to him at the time of the purchase. As for his
consecration in 1012, there seems to be no evidence as to the
consecrator, but it could not have been Ælfheah.
NOTE BB. p. 416.
THE FAMILY OF LEOFRIC.
I know of no authority for any children of Leofric and Godgifu except
Earl Ælfgar. It is hardly needful to refute the notion, entertained even
by Sir Henry Ellis (ii. 146), that Hereward was a son of the Mercian
Earl. On this score even the false Ingulf is guiltless. The mistake
arose solely from a late and blundering genealogical roll, printed in
the Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, ii. xii. The same roll gives Leofric a
third nameless son, who was a child “tertium parvulum cujus nomen non
habetur”) at the coming in of William, and was beheaded for the sake of
his inheritance. Leofric died an old man in 1057; a son of his could
hardly be “parvulus” in 1066. This family seems to have been picked out
(see above, vol. i. p. 457) as the special sport of pedigree-makers.
Mr. C. H. Pearson (i. 367) attributes the mistake about Hereward to Sir
Francis Palgrave, who is quite guiltless of it. See his History, iii.
467.
Ælfgar’s wife bore the name of Ælfgifu. She appears in Domesday in a
form which clearly shows that she survived the Conquest, that she
retained her lands, or parts of them, but that she was dead at the time
of the Survey. In Leicestershire (231 _b_) there is a special heading,
“Terra Alvevæ Comitissæ,” and in Suffolk (ii. 286 _b_) one of “Terra
Matris Morchari Comitis.” But the word used is not “tenet” but “tenuit.”
Cf. also Nottinghamshire, 280 _b_. I know not on what authority
pedigree-makers affirm her to have been a Frenchwoman, sister of William
Malet. If so, she must, like the Lady Emma, have changed her name at her
marriage. Possibly it was a standing rule that all wives from beyond sea
should take the name of Ælfgifu, as if they had come from Elfland.
Of the children of Ælfgar and Ælfgifu, their two famous or infamous
sons, Eadwine and Morkere, need no mention here. The existence of a
third son, Burchard (see pp. 455, 459), depends on the amount of trust
which we may give to a charter preserved in the local history of Rheims,
quoted by Sir Henry Ellis (i. 325); “Notum sit Algarum quemdam, Anglorum
Comitem, consentiente Edwardo Anglorum Rege, Sancto Remigio villam de
Lapeleiâ dedisse pro animâ filii sui Burchardi, cujus corpus in
polyandrio ecclesiæ quiescit.” Lapley in Northamptonshire and other
property belonged at the time of the Survey, not to “the Church of
Rheims,” as Sir Henry Ellis says, but to “Saint Remigius of Rheims”
(Domesday, 222 _b_), that is, to the Abbey. The English estate, we are
told, grew into a Priory. (I do not know Lapley Priory in
Northamptonshire, but there was a Priory of that name in Staffordshire,
much more in Ælfgar’s own country, whose church survives.) Now the name
Burchard (Burhhard?), though borne by several men T. R. E., can hardly
be called a common English name. This name, and the apparent devotion of
Ælfgar and his son to the Abbey of Rheims, are by no means enough to
prove the foreign origin of Ælfgifu, but they certainly fall in with the
tradition.
About the personality of Ealdgyth, daughter of Ælfgar, and wife
successively of Gruffydd and Harold, there is no doubt. Florence
mentions her incidentally under 1066, as the widow of Harold, and the
sister of Eadwine and Morkere. She appears also in Domesday (238 _b_),
where it is said of lands in Warwickshire belonging to Coventry Abbey,
“Hanc terram tenuit Aldgid uxor Grifin.” At the time of the Survey it
had passed from her to Osbern of Herefordshire, who had sold it to the
Abbot. William of Jumièges also says (vii. 31) that Harold “Grithfridi
quoque Regis Wallorum, postquam hostilis eum gladius peremit, pulcram
conjugem Aldith, præclari Comitis Algari filiam, sibi uxorem junxit.” So
Orderic, 492 D; “Ipse [Heraldus] Edgivam sororem eorum [Edwini et
Morcari] uxorem habebat, quæ priùs Gritfridi fortissimi Regis Guallorum
conjunx fuerat.” He goes on to say that she had borne two children to
Gruffydd, “Blidenum regni successorem”—a confusion with Gruffydd’s
_brother_ or kinsman Blethgent—and a daughter named Nest. Benoît de Ste.
More has a very curious account of Ealdgyth (Chron. Ang. Norm. i. 178);
“Après que Heraut se fu fait Reis,
Se combati od les Galeis.
N’en truis ne l’achaison ne l’ire;
Mais Reis Griffins, qui d’eus ert sire,
Remist eu champ. Heraut l’occist,
Sa femme Aldit saisi e prist,
Qui fille ert del bon conte Algar.
Celi pesa c’unc à sa char
Jut n’adesa ne nuit ne jor,
Kar dame esteit de grant valor.
De grant ire ert sis cors espris
Dunc si estert sis sire occis.
En teu manière et en teu guise
R’aveit Heraut femme conquise.”
I need not point out the mistakes here, especially the glaring one of
putting Harold’s Welsh war after his election to the Kingdom. But the
supposed attachment of Ealdgyth to Gruffydd rather than to Harold may be
a genuine tradition, as it falls in with other indications.
Two questions here arise about Ealdgyth. Was she the “Eddeva pulcra” of
Domesday? and, Was she the only daughter of Ælfgar? Sir Henry Ellis (ii.
79) argues at length that she is “Eddeva pulcra,” in opposition to Mr.
Sharon Turner, who identifies that Eddeva with Eadgyth Swanneshals.
There is no very distinct evidence, but I rather incline to the latter
belief, which I shall have to speak of again. As for the other question,
Orderic (511 B) distinctly calls Ealdgyth the only daughter of Ælfgar.
But his account is very confused; he not only leaves out Burchard, but
he confounds Ælfgar with his father Leofric, and makes Godgifu Ælfgar’s
wife instead of his mother. His words are, “Devoti Deo dignique
relligionis laude parentes elegantem et multâ laude dignam ediderunt
sobolem, Eduinum, Morcarum, et _unam filiam nomine Aldit_, quæ primò
nupsit Guitfrido Regi Guallorum, post cujus mortem sociata est Heraldo
Regi Anglorum.” But the genealogy of Leofric’s family which I have
already spoken of (vol. i. p. 456. See also Ellis, i. 490) gives Ælfgar
a daughter Lucy, who, though unknown to Domesday, inherited the lands of
the family (“obtinuit Lucia soror eorum terras paternas”), and who was
married, first, in the Conqueror’s time, to Ivo Taillebois, then, in the
time of Henry the First, to Roger Fitzgerald, lastly, in the time of
Stephen, to Ranulf, Earl of Chester. She had a son by each of the last
two husbands. The chronology is as amazing as the whole chronology of
this pedigree. A woman whose father died before 1065 is made to bear a
son at some time between 1135 and 1154. There was undoubtedly a Lucy,
who did marry in succession Roger Fitzgerald and Earl Randolf (Ord. Vit.
871 B), and who was the mother of the Earl’s son William Randolf (an
early case of a double name), and who was alive in 1141 (ib. 921 B); but
I know of nothing to connect her either with Ivo Taillebois or with the
house of Leofric. Lucy, as the name of an Englishwoman in the eleventh
century, is as impossible as Rowena or Ulrica, unless indeed the French
origin of her mother is again called in. The false Ingulf is, I need not
say, great on the subject of Ivo and Lucy, and the legend is still
swallowed by novelists and local antiquaries. But it is truly amazing to
find Sir Francis Palgrave, who was the first to scotch the Crowland
snake, in the same company (iii. 472).
Godgifu herself, the grandmother of so many of our characters, is shown
to have survived the Conquest, but to have died before the Survey, by
the same evidence which proves the like in the case of her
daughter-in-law Ælfgifu. Her lands in Leicestershire (231 _b_) and
Warwickshire (239 _b_) are entered in exactly the same form as those of
the wife of Ælfgar. See also Nottinghamshire (280 _b_), where she
appears in company, among others, with Ælfgifu and with “Goda
Comitissa,” that is, her own namesake the sister of Eadward, and mother
of Ralph of Hereford. But I cannot but think that some of the entries in
Staffordshire (248 _b_, 249) refer to some other Godgifu. In the entries
of which I have spoken, including one immediately following (249 _b_),
she is called reverentially “Godeva Comitissa;” here we simply read
“Godeva tenuit et libera fuit;” “Hanc tenuit Godeva etiam post adventum
Regis W. in Angliam, sed _recedere non potuit cum terrâ_.” Surely this
cannot be the widow, mother, and grandmother of successive Earls of the
Mercians.
I may notice that Godgifu, Ælfgifu, and other wives of Earls, are in
Domesday, as in Norman writings generally, freely called “Comitissa.”
But I have not found any English equivalent for that title. “Lady” is
reserved for the King’s wife; an Earl’s wife seems to be simply called
the Earl’s wife and nothing else.
NOTE CC. p. 417.
HAROLD THE SON OF RALPH.
Harold the son of Ralph occurs in Domesday, 129 _b_, 169, 177, 244. His
lands lay in the shires of Gloucester, Worcester, Warwick, and
Middlesex, not, oddly enough, where we should have most naturally looked
for them, in Herefordshire. In the list of Normans in Duchèsne, p. 1023,
he is called Lord of Sudeley. There can however be no doubt that Ewias
Harold is called after him. There is nothing to connect that place with
Harold the son of Godwine. At the Survey (Domesday, 186) the castle of
Ewias was held of the King by Ælfred of Marlborough. It seems to have
been granted to him by William Fitz-Osbern, who had restored
(“refirmaverat”) it. Its later history, and that of the descendants of
Harold, I leave to local inquirers, but it is worth asking whether he
was the father of the person described in the Gesta Stephani (931 B) as
“Robertus, filius Heraldi, vir stemmatis ingenuissimi.” As Robert was a
fighter against the Welsh, it seems not unlikely.
I assume that Harold the son of Ralph must have been a different person
from Harold the Staller, who is mentioned in Domesday for Lincolnshire
(337; cf. 340 _b_ and 350 _b_). Ralph had possessions in that part of
England (337), but, if Harold had been Ralph’s son, the connexion could
hardly fail to have been mentioned there, as it is elsewhere. A mere lad
also would hardly have been invested with a Stallership. There are
several other Harolds distinct alike from Harold the King, Harold the
Staller, and Harold the son of Ralph. Such is “Harold ... homo Eluui
hiles, qui poterat ire quo volebat,” in the Domesday for Gloucestershire
(170). Cf. 288 for a Harold at Warwick who kept his property under
William. There are other small entries in the same name.
That Harold must have been very young when his father died is shown by
the entry attached to his Middlesex property (129 _b_), which shows
that, in 1066, he was under the wardship of the Lady Eadgyth; “Hoc
manerium tenuit Heraldus filius Radulfi Comitis, quem custodiebat Regina
Eddid cum manerio eâ die quâ Rex Edwardus fuit vivus et mortuus.” What
follows might seem to imply that the Lady did not prove a very faithful
guardian; at any rate young Harold lost the lordship; “Postea Willelmus
camerarius tenuit de Reginâ in feudo pro tribus libris per annum de
firmâ, et post mortem Reginæ [1074] eodem modo tenuit de Rege.”
We may perhaps infer that Harold’s mother Gytha was dead. She appears
(“Gethe uxor Radulfi Comitis,” “Gueth Comitissa,” 148) as a landowner in
Buckinghamshire in Eadward’s time, but she had nothing at the time of
the Survey. The names Gytha and Harold probably point to a connexion by
affinity, spiritual or otherwise, with the House of Godwine. Or is it
conceivable that this Gytha is the same as Gytha, daughter of Osgod
Clapa, and, no doubt long before this time, widow of Tofig the Proud
(see vol. i. p. 591)? In any case, the names show that Ralph, with all
his contempt for English tactics, had so far identified himself with
England as to take a wife of English or Danish birth.
NOTE DD. p. 424.
THE QUASI-ROYAL POSITION OF EARL HAROLD.
The indications referred to in the text are all slight when taken
separately; still I cannot help thinking that their cumulative force is
considerable.
1. There is a charter of Ealdred in Cod. Dipl. iv. 172, in which, after
the signatures, among which are those of the King and Earl Harold, we
find the formula, “Cum licentiâ Eadwardi Regis et Haroldi Ducis.” In
earlier charters, as those of Bishop Oswald, it is common to find the
consent of the King and of the Ealdorman expressed in the body of the
deed; but this is a different case, as the charter relates to matters in
Worcestershire, which was not in Harold’s Earldom. Another charter of
1065 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 162), which Mr. Kemble marks as doubtful, gives
Harold the title of “Dei gratiâ Dux.” The King is also “Dei gratiâ,” and
the Lady is “Dei pietate;” but no such titles are given to any one else.
I ought to mention that this charter, though not marked as doubtful by
Mr. Kemble, has something wrong about it which needs explanation. It is
signed by Ealdred as Archbishop, which he became in 1060, and by Walter
as Bishop, which he became in 1061; but it is also signed by Earl
Leofric, who died in 1057. There is however no need to believe that the
charter is spurious. Transcribers often added a description to a simple
signature, so that a charter, as we have it, often has its witnesses
described, not by the titles which they bore at the time, but by higher
titles which they bore afterwards. But, even if both documents are
spurious, I still think that they prove something. A forger, unless he
lived very near the time, would have no temptation to invent anything in
favour of Harold. He must have imitated some genuine formula.
2. Nothing can be stronger than the way in which Florence couples
together the King and the Earl in describing the homage of the Welsh
Princes in 1064 or 1065; “Rex ... cui et Haroldo Comiti fidelitatem illi
juraverunt, et _ad imperium illorum_ mari terrâque se fore paratos.”
This reminds one of Hugh Capet and his son Robert (see vol. i. p. 269),
or of any other case of joint sovereignty. This language of so discreet
a writer as Florence is different from the Biographer’s rhetorical
coupling of Eadward and Tostig quoted in p. 618.
3. The description of Harold as “Dux Anglorum” in the Bayeux Tapestry is
well known. See vol. i. pp. 179, 289. We have indeed elsewhere come
across “Algarus quidam, Comes Anglorum” (see p. 629), but the “quidam”
makes a great difference.
4. Far stronger however than all is the title given to Harold by
Florence when describing his election to the Crown. He is then
“_Subregulus_ Haroldus, Godwini _Ducis_ filius.” The “Subregulus” is
surely meant to be something more than the “Dux.” In fact “Subregulus,”
“Undercyning,” is a title which is most familiarly given to vassal
Princes, as to those who attended Eadgar at Chester (Flor. Wig. 973),
and to Gruffydd himself (Chron. Ab. 1056). But I know of no instance of
such a title being ever given to any mere subject except Harold, unless
a parallel is sought in the strange East-Anglian titles quoted in vol.
i. p. 289. But I cannot think that the description of “Half-King” was
meant as a serious title.
NOTE EE. p. 430.
HAROLD’S FOREIGN TRAVELS AND PILGRIMAGE.
The pilgrimage of Harold to Rome, and, still more, his investigations
into the political state of Gaul, are among the additions to our
knowledge which we owe to the Biographer of Eadward. The latter most
remarkable piece of information is wholly new; with regard to the
pilgrimage, the Biographer only confirms a statement which we might
otherwise have set down as doubtful.
The words of the writer of the De Inventione may be taken as implying,
though not directly asserting, extensive foreign travels on the part of
Harold. When speaking of the relics given by the Earl to his church at
Waltham, he calls him (c. 14), “In diversis terrarum partibus non segnis
conquisitor”—namely of relics and such like treasures. The romantic
biographer of Harold, speaking of the same relics, distinctly asserts
(p. 182) that some of them were obtained by the Earl on a pilgrimage to
Rome; “Adierat quidem antea, nondum videlicet Anglorum consequutus
regnum, limina Christi Apostolorum,” &c. This is the sort of point on
which even so romantic a writer as Harold’s biographer was likely to
preserve a bit of trustworthy tradition; still one would hardly have
ventured to assert the fact on his sole authority. The Life of Eadward
has now put the fact of the pilgrimage beyond doubt, and it has also
shown that Harold’s journeys in other parts of the world were not wholly
owing to a desire of collecting relics. This is a good illustration of
the way in which truth sometimes lurks in very suspicious quarters.
The fact of the pilgrimage then is certain; at its date we can only
guess. All the Chronicles, oddly enough, are silent about the pilgrimage
of Harold, though that of Tostig is carefully recorded. But there are
several indications which may lead us to a probable conjecture. If the
Biographer of Eadward pays the least regard to chronology, Harold’s
journey took place after Gyrth’s appointment to his Earldom, which we
have seen reason to fix in 1057, and before Tostig’s pilgrimage, which
the Worcester Chronicle fixes to 1061. If we may at all trust Harold’s
biographer, which, for the nonce, it seems that we may, the journey took
place before the consecration at Waltham in 1060. We have thus two years
to choose from, 1058 and 1059, and two considerations will, I think,
lead us to fix on the former of the two. That was the year in which
Ælfgar (see p. 434) was outlawed for the second time, and almost
immediately returned to his Earldom by force. Such violent doings seem
to point to a time when the powers of government were relaxed, as they
doubtless would be, by the absence of Harold. Again, the grant of the
pallium to Stigand, who, it should be remembered, did not go for it in
person, seems to point to a time when some unusually strong influence,
such as the personal presence of the great Earl, could be brought to
bear on the Papal mind. There is then no direct proof, but there is, I
think, a strong probability, that this remarkable journey on the part of
Harold took place in the year 1058.
The question of the oath I shall examine in the next volume. I will here
only quote in full, without professing to understand every word of it,
the passage from the Biographer (p. 410) which describes Harold’s
political studies in Gaul; “At ille superior [Haroldus] mores, consilia,
et vires Gallicorum principum, non tam per suos quam per se, scrutatus,
astutiâ et callido animi ingenio et diuturniori cum procrastinatione
intentissimè notaverat, _ut in eis habitaturus esset, si eis opus
haberet in alicujus negotii administratione_. Adeò quoque consilio suo
exhaustos pernoverat, ut nullâ ab eis relatione falli posset. Attentiùs
ergo consideratâ Francorum consuetudine, quum ipse quoque apud eos non
obscuri esset nominis et famæ, Romam ad confessionem Apostolorum
processit.” I conceive that the general sense is what I said in the
text, but the passage is most obscure, no doubt purposely obscure. To
have set forth Harold’s negotiations in France in a clear light would
not have suited either the position or the plan of the Biographer.
Writing under William, to Eadgyth, he never mentions William’s name, or
even alludes to him in any intelligible way. The words which I have put
in Italics are the hardest to understand of all. Do they imply that
Harold formed, or contemplated, alliances with any French Princes, say
with the Count of Anjou or with the King himself, in case mutual support
against William should ever be needed?
NOTE FF. p. 449.
THE QUARREL BETWEEN EARL HAROLD AND BISHOP GISA.
The original account of the matters in dispute between Harold and Gisa
will be found, in Gisa’s own words, in the Historiola de Primordiis
Episcopatûs Somersetensis, printed in Hunter’s Ecclesiastical Documents,
p. 15. Gisa’s narrative grows into a far more violent account in the
local history of Wells, by a Canon of that Church in the fifteeenth
century, printed in Anglia Sacra, i. 559. Lastly, we get the story with
further improvements in Godwin’s Lives of the Bishops and other later
works. The whole matter is well discussed, and gone into most
thoroughly, by Mr. J. R. Green in the Transactions of the Somersetshire
Archæological and Natural History Society, 1863–4, p. 148, a paper which
has suggested several points in the present note.
That the King who made the original grant to Duduc was Cnut is plain
from the words of Gisa, who speaks of them as Duduc’s private property
obtained before he became Bishop (“possessiones quas hæreditario jure a
rege ante episcopatum promeruerat”). Duduc became Bishop in 1033. It is
difficult to understand how the Abbey of Gloucester could have formed
part of the grant, or how this statement is to be reconciled with the
local history of Gloucester referred to in p. 435. Gisa goes on to say
that, when Harold took the other property, Gloucester was granted to
Stigand (“præfatum monasterium injustâ ambitione a Rege sibi dari petiit
[Stigandus] et impetratum ad horam obtinuit.” On Abbeys held by Stigand
see Hist. Eliens. ii. 41, Gale 514). Gloucester therefore has no further
connexion with the story, which turns wholly on the possessions in
Somersetshire. These were the two lordships of Banwell and Congresbury.
There were also relics, church-plate, and books. These moveable goods,
we may perhaps guess, found their way to Waltham.
The grant of Duduc to the Church of Wells is described in these words;
“[possessiones] roboratas cyrographis Regiæ auctoritatis ac donationis
Deo Sanctoque Andreæ tempore Edwardi piissimi Regi obtulit”). Gisa then
records what seems to be an oral bequest of the moveable property made
by Duduc on his death-bed (“jam imminente die vocationis suæ adhibuit”).
Duduc dies and is buried, and the story goes on;—“Haroldus verò, tunc
temporis Dux Occidentalium Saxonum, non solùm terras invadere, verùm
etiam episcopalem sedem omnibus his spoliare non timuit.” There is
nothing in Gisa’s narrative to imply that Harold seized any part of the
ancient possessions of the See, but only the new gifts of Duduc. Gisa
then goes on to mention the poor estate in which he found his Church,
the small number of the Canons, and their wide departure from the
strictness of Lotharingian discipline. To help him in his schemes of
reform, he begged certain lands of the King and the Lady, namely
Wedmore, the scene of the famous peace between Ælfred and Guthrum (see
vol. i. p. 48), and the lordships of Mark and Mudgeley in the same
neighbourhood. Much about these gifts, and about other possessions and
acquisitions of Gisa, will be found in the charters in Cod. Dipl. iv.
163, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 257, charters addressed to Harold, and in
which the restoration of anything taken from the See is commanded. (See
Mr. Green, p. 154.) But there is no mention of either Banwell or
Congresbury, except in the manifestly spurious document in iv. 163, on
which see especially Mr. Green’s note, p. 153. Gisa then goes on to say
that he excommunicated one Alsie (Ælfsige?) who detained from the See
the lordship of Winesham (see Domesday, 89 _b_), even after it was
adjudged to the See by the Scirgemót (“judicium provincialium”). He then
mentions his intention, never earned into effect, of excommunicating
Harold himself (“Haroldum etiam Ducem, qui Ecclesiam mihi comissam
spoliaverat, nunc secretò nunc palam correctum, pari sententiâ cogitabam
ferire”). Then Harold, after his election to the Crown, promises to
restore the disputed lordships and to grant others as well (“non solùm
ea quæ tulerat se redditurum verum etiam ampliora spopondit daturum”).
With this statement must be compared Harold’s writ in favour of Gisa in
Cod. Dipl. iv. 305, where all the Bishop’s rights and possessions are
confirmed to him in the strongest language, but without the mention of
any particular places. Gisa then tells us how, after William’s
accession, he made his complaint to the new King and obtained the
restoration of Winesham. He goes on to mention his acquisition of Combe
(p. 18) and other places, but he says nothing about Congresbury and
Banwell, the lordships originally in dispute. But we learn their
disposal from Domesday. Both are entered there as being held by Harold
T. R. E. At the time of the Survey, Congresbury (Domesday, 87) was held
by the King, except some portions which had been alienated to different
persons, Gisa himself, possibly in his personal character, being among
them. Banwell (89 _b_) was held by the Bishop. It is plain then that the
whole controversy with Harold, as far as real property was concerned,
related to these two lordships. There is nothing about any other
property of the See, nothing to imply that the poverty of the Canons of
which Gisa so feelingly complains was in any way caused by the Earl’s
occupation of Banwell and Congresbury. The story is plainly one of
disputed right to those two lordships and to the moveable goods of
Duduc.
Gisa of course tells his own story in his own way. But he tells it
without any special reviling of Harold. Mr. Green goes very minutely
into the credibility of his story, but I do not think that he convicts
the Bishop of any gross misrepresentation. We must take Gisa’s statement
as we find it; we must judge as we can of his honesty and of his means
of information. There is no direct confirmation and no direct
contradiction of his tale. Duduc’s deed of gift does not exist; in none
of the many charters of Eadward relating to Gisa’s affairs is there any
mention of any quarrel between him and Harold; in fact there is no
mention of the disputed lordships at all. There is no record of any
appeal made by Gisa to the King, nor does he himself distinctly state
that he made any. On the other hand, Gisa’s story draws some slight
confirmation from the fact that Banwell does seem to have been granted
to the See by William. Harold’s own charter in Cod. Dipl. iv. 305 may be
taken in two ways. Its tone, as Mr. Green says, is quite friendly. It
may be a mere guaranty of Gisa against Ælfsige or any other possible
enemies. But I think it is more likely that Harold, at a time when it
was his interest to conciliate everybody, tried to conciliate Gisa by a
grant of the disputed lands, that his intention was hindered by his
death, and afterwards partially carried out by William. But anyhow
Gisa’s own story does not imply any fraud or violence on the part of
Harold. It is simply a story of a disputed claim to certain lands and
goods. The tale takes a very different shape in later writers.
Thus, in the story given by the Canon of Wells (Ang. Sacr. i. 559) we
find quite another state of things. First of all, the poor estate of the
Church of Wells, and the small number of its Canons, are attributed to
the spoliations of Harold, an idea which Gisa’s story does not even
suggest; “Hic [Giso] invenit tantùm decem [later writers seem to have
read “quinque”—either of the numbers complained of as being small might
startle modern legislators and modern residentiaries] canonicos in
Ecclesiâ Wellensi, tam bonis mobilibus et ornamentis ecclesiasticis quam
possessionibus ad ecclesiam suam spectantibus per Haroldum Comitem
Cantiæ et Westsexiæ spoliatos et publicæ mendicitati subjectos”). He
then records the gifts of Eadward and Eadgyth, as also Harold’s
accession to the Crown, which is told in true Norman fashion. The first
act of the new King is to confiscate all the possessions of Gisa and the
Church of Wells (“Is statim omnes possessiones dicti Gisonis et
Canonicorum Wellensis Ecclesiæ perpetim confiscavit”). His death and the
Conquest of England are of course the punishment. William then restores
all that Harold took, “exceptis Congresburye, Banewell et Kilmington et
plurimis aliis.”
Even in this account we have wandered a good way from Gisa’s own tale.
There is something amusing in the exception to William’s
restoration—Congresbury and Banwell, the only places in dispute, and
Kilmington and other places of which Gisa tells us nothing. William is
made to restore precisely those lands of which the See had always kept
undisputed possession. But there are greater things in store. In the
sixteenth century it was found out that Gisa’s autobiography and
Harold’s writ were both of them mistaken, and that Harold not only
robbed the church of Wells, but drove its Bishop into banishment. Here
is the story as told by Bishop Godwin, Catalogue of Bishops, p. 291.
Gisa is consecrated at Rome—then
“At his returne, he found the estate of his Church very miserable;
Harald the Queene’s brother that afterwards became for a while king of
England, being yet a private man,
(Quid Domini facient, audent qui talia servi?)
upon what occasion I know not, had spoyled the Church of all ornaments,
chased away the Canons, and invading all the possessions of the same,
had converted them to his owne use: so that the Canons remaining which
fled not for feare of this tyrant (they were onely five) they (I say)
were faine to beg their bread. The Bishop complaining unto the King of
this outragious havocke, found cold comfort at his hands: For, whether
it were for feare of Harald’s power or his wives displeasure, he caused
no restitution at all to be made. Onely the Queene was content to give
of her owne, Mark and Modesly unto the Church. After the death of King
Edward, Gisa was faine to fly the land, till such time as Harald the
sacrilegious usurper being vanquished and slaine, William the Conqueror
was a meane to restore, not only him to his place and countrey, but his
Church also to all that the other had violently taken from it, except
some small parcels that (I know not by what meanes) had been conveighed
unto the Monastery of Glocester.”
Here we have simple romance; a later writer has attempted something like
philosophy. The local historian of Somersetshire, Collinson (iii. 378),
boldly connects the story of Gisa with the banishment of Godwine and the
descent of Harold at Porlock. At the same time, though Harold’s conduct
is pronounced to be “outrageous,” it is made out to be simply taking
possession of his own goods. But the worthy antiquary shall set forth
his special revelation in his own words;
“On his entry into his diocese, he found the estates of the church in a
sad condition; for Harold earl of Wessex, having with his father, Godwin
earl of Kent, been banished the kingdom, and deprived of all his estates
in this county by King Edward, _who bestowed them on the church of
Wells_, had in a piratical manner made a descent in these parts, raised
contributions among his former tenants, spoiled the church of all its
ornaments, driven away the canons, invaded their possessions, and
converted them to his own use. Bishop Giso in vain expostulated with the
King on this outrageous usage; but received from the Queen, who was
Harold’s sister, the manors of Mark and Mudgley, as a trifling
compensation for the injuries which his bishoprick had sustained.
Shortly after [after 1060] _Harold was restored to King Edward’s favour,
and made his captain-General_; upon which he in his turn _procured the
banishment of Giso_, and when he came to the crown, resumed most of
those estates of which he had been deprived. _Bishop Giso continued in
banishment till the death of Harold_, and the advancement of the
Conqueror to the throne, who in the second year of his reign restored
all Harold’s estates to the church of Wells, except some small parcels
which had been conveyed to the monastery of Gloucester; in lieu of which
he gave the manor and advowson of Yatton, and the manor of Winsham.”
One is inclined to ask with Henry the Second (Gir. Camb. Exp. Hib. i.
40. p. 290 ed. Dimock), “Quære a rustico illo utrùm hoc somniaverit?”
But these things have their use. Every instance of the growth of a
legend affords practice in the art of distinguishing legend from
history. And, in this special case, the difference between the popular
version and the real contemporary statement may lead us to weigh
somewhat carefully all charges of outrageous sacrilege, whether it is
Harold, William, or any one else against whom they are brought. The lay
lion constantly wants a painter, and I know not that he ever finds one,
save when we have the quarrel between Godwine and Robert (see above, p.
547) described by the friendly Biographer.
On this story of Gisa’s I may make two further incidental remarks.
Combe, one of the lordships added by Gisa to his see, was bought by him
of Azor—“a quodam meo parochiano A_r_sere”—which no doubt should be
A_t_sere—“dicto.” Its former possession by Azor is witnessed also by
Domesday 89. We have seen (p. 510) that there was at least two bearers
of this singular name, a name equally singular whether its owner were an
Englishman or a foreigner. Others, or the same, occur in Lincolnshire
(337), distinguished as “Azer f. Sualevæ,” and “Azer f. Burg.,” and in
Buckinghamshire (147 _b_) as “Azor filius Toti.” One among these Azors
certainly left three sons, who bore the foreign names of Goscelin,
William, and Henry (Domesday 53 and 216 _b_). The last of these names,
unknown in England, was equally so in Normandy, till William bestowed it
on his youngest son. An “Adzurus” signs the Waltham Charter (Cod. Dipl.
iv. 159) with the title of “Regis dapifer.” But the curious thing is the
number of times in which we find the name of Azor connected with the
buying and selling of land, both under Eadward and under William. Here
Gisa buys Combe of Azor; we have already (p. 546) seen Godwine buy
Woodchester of Azor. On the other hand we read in Domesday (35 _b_) of
Azor buying lands in Surrey, “quam unus liber homo tenuit sub Rege E.,
sed pro quâdam necessitate suâ vendidit Azori T. R. Willelmi.” We have
already seen two Azors benefactors to Westminster, and in Domesday (34)
we find one of them a benefactor to the Abbey of Chertsey; “Ipsa Abbatia
tenet Henlei. Azor tenuit donec obiit, et dedit Ecclesiæ pro animâ suâ,
tempore Regis W., _ut dicunt monachi_, et inde habent brevem Regis.” In
the words in Italics we see the germs of a possible controversy.
This Azor, or these Azors, though of no direct importance in history,
awaken a certain interest through their incidental connexion with
greater men, and it would be quite worth the while of local inquirers in
the counties where their lands lay to search out any further details
about them.
The other point is this. I suggested in the text (p. 450) that the
estates of a foreigner dying without heirs would probably go to the
King. This, if not an universal, was certainly a local custom. Among the
customs of the town of Oxford (Domesday 154 _b_) we read, “Si quis
extraneus in Oxeneford manere deligens et domum habens sine parentibus
ibi vitam finierit, Rex habebat quidquid reliquerit.” “Extraneus” may
possibly mean simply a “foreigner” in the sense of a non-burgess, but,
if he were a non-Englishman, the case would be stronger still.
NOTE GG. p. 467.
ÆLFWIG ABBOT OF NEW MINSTER.
There is certainly something startling in the notion of a brother of
Godwine and uncle of Harold, if he wished for ecclesiastical preferment
at all, having to wait for it till the year 1063. But the evidence,
though piecemeal, looks, at first sight, like it. That an Abbot of New
Minster died at Senlac, and that his house therefore lay for a while
under William’s heavy displeasure, are facts which have long been known,
and which I shall have to speak of in their proper places. But one of
the authorities for the statement, the Manuscript called “Destructio
Monasterii de Hidâ,” printed in the Monasticon of 1682, i. 210, and in
the New Monasticon, ii. 437, makes this Abbot an uncle of Harold; “Rex
Haroldus habuit avunculum nomine _Godwynum_, Abbatem de Hydâ.” The
writer then goes on to speak of the Abbot joining his nephew’s muster at
the battle. It would not do to press the word “avunculus” in its
classical sense, and to make the Abbot a brother of Gytha. The purely
English name Godwine was most unlikely to be borne by a son of Thorgils
Sprakaleg. “Avunculus” must be taken in the sense of “patruus,” and the
difficulty of Godwine having a brother bearing his own name is taken
away when, from another local manuscript, referred to, though not fully
printed in the Monasticon, ii. 428, we find that the Abbot’s real name
was not Godwine, but Ælfwig. I have to thank Mr. Edwards, the Editor of
the Liber de Hydâ, for the following extract from the manuscript Annales
de Hydâ. The list of Abbots of New Minster, during the time with which I
am concerned, stands thus;
“1021. Alnothus.
1035. Alwyus.
1057. Alfnotus.
1063. Alwyus, frater Godwyni Comitis.
1066. Alwyus occiditur, et vacavit hæc ecclesia ii. annis.” Cf. Edwards,
Liber de Hydâ, p. xxxvii.
Here we plainly have Ælfwig, brother of Earl Godwine, appointed Abbot in
1063. The writer of the “Destructio” probably meant to write something
like “avunculum, nomine Alwynum, fratrem Comitis Godwyni,” and the two
similar endings got jumbled together. There is another case in which the
name Godwine has been written instead of another name in Domesday (146),
where a Thegn is described as “homo _God_uini cilt Abbatis
Westmonasteriensis,” meaning of course Abbot _Ead_wine (see p. 509). But
here another question arises. The alternation of the names Ælfnoth and
Ælfwig in the list of Abbots suggests the conjecture that we have here a
case of a man—or rather two men—resigning his office and taking it
again. We have seen other examples in the case of Archbishop Eadsige
(pp. 68, 113) and of Bishop Hermann (pp. 405, 406). If so, Ælfwig was
first appointed in 1035, a much more likely time for the first promotion
of a brother of Godwine than 1063. But, on the other hand, the fact that
only the second entry of the name “Alwyus” has the addition “frater
Godwyni Comitis,” may be taken as distinguishing the Ælfwig of 1063 from
the Ælfwig of 1035. Taken alone it certainly looks that way, but it is
hardly conclusive. This point I do not undertake to decide; but I think
we have quite evidence enough for the existence of an Ælfwig, Abbot of
New Minster, uncle of King Harold and dying by his side.
If the “Annales” did not distinctly call him “frater Godwyni Comitis,” I
should have been tempted to identify this Abbot Ælf_wig_, uncle of
Harold, with the Ælf_ric_, kinsman of Godwine, who was elected to the
see of Canterbury in 1050 (see p. 119). The word “avunculus” is
sometimes used rather laxly, and it might perhaps mean what is sometimes
called a “Welsh uncle,” that is the first cousin of a parent. Moreover
the Biographer now and then stumbles in his English names, as when he
calls Leof_wine_, Leof_ric_. But the description of Ælfwig as Godwine’s
brother seems to exclude this. And if the two Ælfwigs are the same, it
is impossible, as, in 1050, Ælfwig would be Abbot of New Minster, when
Ælfric was a monk of Christ Church. Still one would like, if one could,
to find a career for a man of whom all that we know is that he once came
so near to eminence as the Ælfric of 1050.
NOTE HH. p. 482.
THE REVOLT OF NORTHUMBERLAND.
With regard to the events which led to the banishment of Tostig, we have
to make the same sort of comparison of authorities which we made in
describing the banishment and the return of Godwine. Our fullest
accounts are found in the Worcester Chronicle, in Florence, and in the
Life of Eadward. Some further details are supplied by the Abingdon and
Peterborough Chronicles and by William of Malmesbury. As usual, the
Chroniclers look on the matter from the point of view of the nation, the
Biographer looks on it from the point of view of the Court. Each
therefore, as in other cases, fills up gaps in the other. We must also
remember that the Biographer lies under the necessity of making out as
fair a case as he can for Eadward, Harold, and Tostig all at once. But,
writing as he did to Eadgyth, his chief object was to say all that could
be said on behalf of Tostig. It is in the Life then that we must look
for the fullest account of the doings and feelings of Eadward and
Tostig, while the Chroniclers give us the fullest account of the doings
of the Northumbrian people. Florence seems to have given special
attention to the early part of the story, and he has, as in some other
cases, preserved the names of individual actors who are not mentioned
elsewhere. William of Malmesbury, as he has often done before, helps us
to reports of speeches, either traditionally remembered or which he
himself thought were in character. Even in this latter aspect, these
speeches are worthy of attention, as they never take those rhetorical
and other impossible shapes which are often taken by the harangues in
Orderic and elsewhere.
The first point where the different narratives show their peculiar
characters in such a shape as to amount to a contradiction, is found
with regard to the whereabouts of Tostig at the time of the revolt. The
Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles do not say where he was; William
of Malmesbury (ii. 200), probably writing with the Peterborough
Chronicle before him, fancied that Tostig was at York, or at least
somewhere in Northumberland, and he seemingly mistook the force of the
word “utlagodon,” as he expands it into “solitarium repertum ex regione
fugârunt, pro contuitu ducatûs occidendum non arbitrati.” But the
Abingdon Chronicler, writing within the bounds of Wessex, mentions the
name of a place which was more likely to be known to him than to his
Mercian brethren; “Tostig wæs þa æt Brytfordan mid þam kinge.” The
Biographer, still more accurately, quarters them (422) in some of the
forests of the neighbourhood, whence they afterwards go to Bretford to
hold the Gemót.
With regard to the doings of the rebel Gemót of York, Florence
distinguishes the acts of the two days more accurately than any of the
Chroniclers. He alone distinguishes the executions, unjust or otherwise,
of Amund and Reavenswart on the Monday, from the mere massacre of
Tuesday. The Chroniclers run the events of both days together. In the
words of Peterborough and Worcester, the Northumbrians “utlagodon heora
eorl Tostig and ofslogon his hiredmenn [“huskarlas” in Abingdon] ealle
þa hi mihton to cuman, ægðer ge Englisce ge Dænisce.” Florence, after
describing the death of the two officers, goes on, “die sequenti plus
quam cc. viros ex curialibus [hiredmenn] illius in boreali parte Humbræ
fluminis [“Humbra” must mean the Ouse] peremerunt.” Then follows the
plundering of the treasury, which is much the same in all accounts. But
the Biographer naturally waxes more indignant and rhetorical in his
description of the massacre. Men, he tells us (421), took the
opportunity to slay their private enemies “nullus ergo modus fit in
occasione; rapitur hic et ille ad necem etiam pro familiari odio
cujusque”). That the movement extended beyond Northumberland is not
implied either by the Abingdon Chronicler or by Florence, whose story at
this point becomes rather meagre, but it comes out in the Worcester and
Peterborough Chroniclers, as also in the Biographer, though in two very
different shapes. From the two Chroniclers we learn the adhesion of the
shires of Nottingham, Derby, and Lincoln to the rebel cause, but it is
only the Biographer who asserts a massacre anywhere but at York. “Fit
cædes,” he says, “multorum in _Eboracâ, vel Lincolniâ civitate_, in
plateis, in aquis, in silvis, et in viis.” Every one who had been at
anytime in Tostig’s service (“quicumque poterat notari quod de ejus
aliquando fuerit curiâ”) was everywhere put to death without mercy. This
all may be or may not be, but though we can quite understand that the
men of the Danish shires of Mercia might sympathize with their
Northumbrian brethren, one can hardly fancy that many of Tostig’s
Housecarls would be found at Lincoln.
But the most important difference between our several accounts is to be
found in the different statements as to the place where the negotiations
took place between the King and the rebels. The Chroniclers of course
give the fullest accounts of the doings of the insurgents, while the
Biographer enlarges most fully on the counsels of the King. To judge
from him only (422), we should think that all the negotiations took
place at Oxford (“Axonevorde oppidum”), while from the Worcester and
Peterborough Chroniclers, it would seem that all took place at
Northampton. But the Abingdon Chronicler, followed by Florence,
distinguishes between two assemblies, one at each place (“and þa wel
raðe þaræfter wæs mycel gemot æt Norðhamtune, and swa æt Oxenaforda”).
The Biographer sets forth the various messages which were sent by the
King, and he naturally thinks chiefly of the place where the matter was
finally settled, namely at Oxford. The minds of the two Mercian
Chroniclers were no less naturally fixed on Northampton and the ravages
which happened in its neighbourhood. Nothing is more likely than that,
while messages were passing to and fro, the Northumbrian host should
advance, and take up their head-quarters at Oxford instead of at
Northampton. I therefore accept the Abingdon account, and hold that the
final Gemót on the feast of Saint Simon and Saint Jude was held at
Oxford.
The repeated messages which passed between the King and the rebels seem
implied in the words of the Abingdon Chronicler, who recognizes the
gathering at Northampton as well as that at Oxford as a “mycel gemót.”
The Biographer is still more express; “Rex Eadwardus, vir Deo dignus,
putans indomitum vulgus solitâ sedare sapientiâ, pia per legatos illis
mittit mandamina, ut scilicet quiescerent ab inceptâ dementiâ et jus
legemque reciperent de omni quam in eum demonstrare possent injuriâ”
(see pp. 491, 136). Then comes the answer of the rebels, then come
further messages from the King (“Quum benignissimus rex item et tertiò
missis legationibus eos ab insanâ intentione diverso conciliorum conatu
amovere tentaret, nec perficeret”); the King then goes from the woods to
Bretford (“a silvestribus locis ubi more suo caussâ assiduæ venationis
morabatur, secessit ad Brethevorde regium vicum oppidoque regio Wiltuni
proximum”), and there holds the council at which the royal answer to the
rebels is finally determined on. The Biographer does not mention Harold
personally, but all the Chroniclers and Florence describe him as being
at the head of the embassy. The answer of the rebels is given “Haroldo
West-Saxonum Duci et aliis quos Rex Tostii rogatu pro pace redintegrandâ
ad eos miserat.” William of Malmesbury alone makes Harold go with an
army “ut propulsaret injuriam.” This is probably a confusion with
Eadward’s later anxiety to send a military force against the rebels.
Harold would doubtless take some Housecarls with him for safety’s sake;
but what he headed was clearly an embassy and not a military expedition.
In the answer sent by the insurgents to the King, I have followed
William of Malmesbury, as the sentiments which he puts into their mouths
so exactly suit the circumstances of the case. When he begins
“Northanhimbri, _licet non inferiores numero essent_, tamen quieti
consulentes,” he is to some extent led away by his notion of Harold
having come with an army, but the matter of the answer is thoroughly in
character; “Factum apud eum excusant; se homines liberè natos, liberè
educatos, nullius Ducis ferociam pati posse, a majoribus didicisse aut
libertatem aut mortem.” The Biographer evidently colours in the opposite
direction; at the same time the conditional threat of war made by the
rebels sounds authentic; “Deo itaque Regique suo rebelles, spretâ
pietatis legatione, remandant Regi, aut eumdem Ducem suum citiùs à se et
à toto Angliæ Regno amitteret, aut eos in commune hostes hostis ipse
haberet.” The Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles give the matter of
the message in the simplest and most neutral form; but it is from them
that we learn that the answer was carried by messengers from the rebel
camp who came to the King’s Court in company with Harold; “Hi lægdon
ærende on hine [Harold] to þam cynge Eadwarde, and eac ærendracan mid
him sendon, and bædon þat hi moston habban Morkere heom to Eorle.” The
description of the Council in which this answer was discussed comes
wholly from the Biographer, and, as it is just the sort of point on
which he is always well informed, I have simply followed his narrative
in my text. The Chroniclers give the result only; “and se cynge þæs
geuðe, and sende eft Harold heom to Hamtune.” The efforts of Harold to
reconcile all parties come out strongly in the Abingdon Chronicle;
“Harold Eorl wolde heora seht wyrcan, gif he mihte; ac he na mihte.”
Florence gives him several companions in this attempt; “Dum Haroldus et
alii quamplures Comitem Tostium cum iis pacificare vellent, omnes
unanimi consensu contradixerunt.” Harold’s conduct in finally yielding
to the demands of the rebels is pointedly approved by William of
Malmesbury; “Hæc Haroldus audiens, qui magis quietem patriæ quam fratris
commodum attenderet, revocavit exercitum.” Here we again have William’s
former mistake about Harold’s coming with an army. The description of
Eadward’s state of mind, his anxiety to make war, his complaints and the
cause of his final illness, all come from the Biographer only; but
William of Malmesbury in another part of his work (iii. 252) gives a
remarkable picture nearly to the same effect, which I have quoted in p.
495, note 4.
That the outlawry of Tostig and his accomplices was the act of a formal
Gemót comes out most strongly in the Abingdon Chronicle, where, as in
some former cases, the words of the formal decree seem to peep out; “And
eall his Eorldom hyne anrædlice forsóc and geutlagode and ealle þa mid
hym þe unlage rærdon, forþam þe he rypte God ærost, and ealle þa
bestrypte þe he ofer mihte, æt life and æt hande. And hig namon heom þa
Morkere to Eorle.” The same formal character of the meeting is implied
in the renewal of Cnut’s Law on which I have enlarged in the text. In
the rhetoric of the Biographer all this is lost.
With regard to the actual departure of Tostig from England, Florence
alone seems to depart from his usual guide at Abingdon, and to assert an
expulsion by force. I have already, in p. 500, quoted the passages which
bear upon the matter.
One word more as to the answer of the Northumbrians. M. Emile de
Bonnechose (ii. 118), following what edition of William of Malmesbury I
know not, for “nullius _Ducis_ ferociam,” reads “nullius _Daci_,” and on
that reading thus comments; “La dénomination de danois [_Dacus_], donnée
ici à Tosti, fils de Godwin et de Githa, _sœur_ du roi de Danemark, est
digne d’attention. Cette citation du moine de Malmesbury, suffirait pour
ébranler le système selon lequel Godwin et sa famille auraient été
toujours considérés comme les représentants d’un parti national,
également hostile aux Danois et aux Normands.” It is a strong measure to
reverse the whole history of a period simply because M. de Bonnechose
has somehow read “Daci” instead of “Ducis,” but the real expression of
William of Malmesbury is a very remarkable one. The protestation of the
Northumbrians, “se nullius Ducis ferociam pati posse,” sounds very like
a wish for a King of the Northumbrians instead of an Earl.
The expression in the text (p. 497) “between the Thames and the Tweed”
must be corrected by the minuter inquiries into the extent of the
Earldoms in p. 566 and elsewhere. It is most likely that, after the
death of Ælfgar, the Mercian Earldom nowhere reached so far south as the
Thames.
-----
Footnote 1:
Among our authorities for this period the English Chronicles of course
still retain their preeminent place, and the differences, especially
the marked differences in political feeling, between the various
versions become of constantly increasing importance. Florence also,
always valuable, now increases in value. His narrative is still
grounded on that of the Chronicles, but he gradually ceases to be a
mere copyist. It is always of moment to see which of the several
versions he follows; and, as he draws nearer his own time, he
gradually acquires the character of a distinct authority. He can
however hardly be looked on as such during the period embraced in this
Chapter. The contemporary Biographer of Eadward now becomes of the
greatest value in his own special department. For all matters which
are strictly personal to the King, the Lady, and the whole family of
Godwine, his authority is primary. He is however very distinctly not
an historian, but a biographer, sometimes a laureate. In his narrative
there are many omissions and some inaccuracies; his value lies mainly
in his vivid personal portraits of the great men of the time, with all
of whom he seems to have been personally acquainted. It must be borne
in mind that his book, dedicated to the Lady Eadgyth, is to a great
extent a panegyric on her family. Still it is highly important to have
this description of them from the English side to set against the
dominant Norman calumnies. It is to the Chronicles as harmonized by
Florence that we must go for our main facts; the Biographer gives us
their personal aspect, their personal colouring, and many personal
details. Just as the Encomiast of Eadgyth becomes of so much value, we
lose the Encomiast of Emma, who ends his narrative with the accession
of Harthacnut. The purely Norman writers now gain in importance. But,
as regards purely English affairs, their importance is of this
peculiar kind, that, after reading the English account of any fact, it
is needful to turn and see what is the Norman perversion of it. At the
head of the class stands William of Poitiers, Archdeacon of Lisieux,
the chaplain and biographer of William the Conqueror. His work,
unluckily imperfect, is our primary authority for all that concerns
his hero; but allowance must be made throughout for his constant
flattery of his own master and his frantic hatred towards Godwine and
Harold. The later Norman writers, William of Jumièges and his
continuator, and the poetical chroniclers, Robert Wace and Benoît de
Sainte-More, are of use as witnessing to Norman tradition, but they do
not yet assume that special value which belongs to William of Jumièges
and Wace at a somewhat later time. The subsidiary English writers, and
the occasional notices to be found in the works of foreign historians,
retain the same secondary value as before. Indeed, as Scandinavian
affairs are of great importance during several years of this period,
the Sagas of Magnus and Harold Hardrada may be looked upon as of
something more than secondary value. Among the secondary English
writers, Henry of Huntingdon diminishes in importance, as he gets more
out of the reach of those ancient ballads and traditions which it is
his great merit to have preserved. On the other hand, the value of
William of Malmesbury increases, as he draws nearer to his own time.
He often sets before us two versions of a story, and makes an attempt
at a critical comparison of them. But his prejudices are distinctly
Norman, and his utter lack of arrangement, his habit of dragging in
the most irrelevant tales at the most important points of his
narrative, makes him one of the most perplexing of writers to consult.
Footnote 2:
See vol. i. p. 589.
Footnote 3:
On the different statements, see Appendix A.
Footnote 4:
Chronn. and Flor. Wig. 1043.
Footnote 5:
Vol. i. p. 560.
Footnote 6:
See vol. i. p. 396.
Footnote 7:
Vol. i. p. 592.
Footnote 8:
As at the election of Eadmund Ironside, vol. i. p. 419. So, after the
fall of Harold the son of Godwine, the citizens of London were
foremost in choosing the young Eadgar King. Fl. Wig. 1066. The
expression of “all folk,” and the extreme haste at a time when the
Witan seem not to have been sitting, point to an election of this
kind, forestalling the next ordinary Gemót.
Footnote 9:
Vol. i. p. 404.
Footnote 10:
Vol. i. p. 568.
Footnote 11:
Lyfing’s share in the business comes from Florence; “Eadwardus,
annitentibus maxime Comite Godwino et Wigornensi Præsule Livingo,
Lundoniæ levatur in Regem.”
Footnote 12:
This contrast is not directly stated, but it seems implied in the
reference to the age and experience of Eadward.
Footnote 13:
Will. Malms. ii. 196. “Jure ei competere regnum, ævi maturo, laboribus
defæcato, scienti administrare principatum per ætatem severè, miserias
provincialium [Harthacnut’s Danegeld?] pro pristinâ egestate
temperare.”
Footnote 14:
Ib. “Quo se pronior inclinaverit, eo fortunam vergere; si auxilietur,
neminem ausurum obstrepere, et è converso.”
Footnote 15:
Vita Eadw. 394. “Quoniam pro patre ab omnibus habebatur, in paterno
consultu libenter audiebatur.” Will. Malms. ii. 197. “Quidam
auctoritatem ejus secuti.”
Footnote 16:
Will. Malms. u. s. “Quidam muneribus flexi.”
Footnote 17:
See vol. i. p. 591.
Footnote 18:
Adam Brem. ii. 74. See Appendix A.
Footnote 19:
See below under the years 1045 and 1047.
Footnote 20:
Will. Malms. ii. 197. “Et hinc censoriè notati et postmodum ab Angliâ
expulsi.”
Footnote 21:
Thierry, i. 180. St. John, ii. 132.
Footnote 22:
Henry of Huntingdon indeed (M. H. B. 759 A) hints at a suspicion of
Eadward’s Normannizing tendencies, when he makes the English embassy
stipulate that he shall bring the smallest possible number of Normans
with him (“quod paucissimos Normannorum secum adduceret”). But Henry’s
narrative just here is so very wild that it is not safe to rely on his
authority.
Footnote 23:
See vol. i. p. 117.
Footnote 24:
Chron. Petrib. 1041. “Eall folc geceas Eadward to cynge on Lundene;
healde þa hwile þe him God unne.” (Cf. Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 759 A.
“Electus est in Regem ab omni populo.”) This prayer is the opposite to
that of Antinoos, Od. i. 386:—
μή σέ γ’ ἐν ἀμφιάλῳ Ἰθάκῃ βασιλῆα Κρονίων
ποιήσείεv, ὅ τoι γενεῇ πατρώϊόν ἐστι.
See Gladstone, Homer, iii. 51.
Footnote 25:
Chron. Ab. 1042. “Eall folc underfeng ða Eadward to cinge, swa him
gecynde wæs.” “Right of birth” does not very well express “gecynde,”
but I do not see how better to translate it. The word occurs again in
Chron. Wig. 1066, as applied to young Eadgar. It will be remembered
that the Abingdon Chronicle is the only one which charges Godwine with
a share in the death of Ælfred. See vol. i. pp. 545, 546. The
Biographer (p. 396) speaks of Eadward as reigning “ex Dei gratiâ et
hæreditario jure.” This is of course a courtier’s view. “Hæreditario
jure” must here mean a right derived from ancestors, not a right to be
handed on to descendants, as must be the meaning of the words in the
Waltham Charter, Cod. Dipl. iv. 154.
Footnote 26:
Chron. Wig. 1042. “Eall folc geceas þa Eadward, and underfengon hine
to kyninge, eallswa him wel gecynde wæs.” This expression is the exact
counterpart of that of Rudolf Glaber describing the election of Lewis
in 946. See vol. i. p. 224.
Footnote 27:
With the expressions used about the succession of Eadward compare the
still stronger expressions used by Florence about the succession of
Eadred in 946; “Proximus hæres Edredus, fratri succedens, regnum
naturale [gecynde] suscepit.” Yet Eadmund left two sons, both of whom
afterwards reigned.
Footnote 28:
Chron. Flor. Wig. See Appendix A.
Footnote 29:
Flor. Wig.
Footnote 30:
Chron. Ab. and Petrib. “Eadsige arcebisceop hine halgade, and toforan
eallum þam folce wel lærde, and to his agenre neode and ealles folces
wel manude.” So Will. Malms. ii. 197; “Ab Edsio archiepiscopo sacra
regnandi præcepta edoctus, quæ ille tunc memoriâ libenter recondidit,
et postea sanctè factis propalavit.”
Footnote 31:
At Githslep, now Islip, in Oxfordshire. Cod. Dipl. iv. 215.
Footnote 32:
Vita Eadw. 395.
Footnote 33:
Vita Eadw. 395. “Primus ipse Romanorum _Imperator_ Heinricus,” &c. But
Henry was not crowned Emperor till 1047. Hermannus Contractus in anno.
Footnote 34:
On the marriage of Henry and Gunhild, see vol. i. pp. 505, 559.
Footnote 35:
Vita Eadw. 395. “Munera imperiali liberalitate exhibenda mittit, et
quæ _tantos decebat terrarum dominos_.” Æthelred of Rievaux (X
Scriptt. 375), who seems here to copy the Biographer, says the same.
Footnote 36:
Vita Eadw. 395. “Rex quoque Francorum item Heinricus nomine.”
Footnote 37:
Ib. “Ejusdem Anglorum Regis vicinâ carnis propinquitate
consanguineus.” The Biographer throughout makes the most of his hero,
but there is a marked difference in his tone towards the German King
and towards any other prince. The expression “terrarum domini,”
reserved for the lords of the continental and the insular Empires, is
most remarkable. I am at a loss to see what kindred there was between
Eadward and Henry of Paris.
Footnote 38:
Vita Eadw. 395. “Ceteri quoque eorumdem Regum tyranni [a very singular
expression] et quique potentissimi duces et principes, legatis suis
eum adeunt, amicum et dominum sibi suisque constituunt, eique
fidelitatem et servitium suum in manus ponunt.” Is this merely the
flourish of an English Dudo (cf. the talk about Cnut, vol. i. p. 504),
or did any foreign princes really plight a formal homage to Eadward in
exchange for his gifts and favours? In the _later_ feudalism such a
relation would not be impossible.
Footnote 39:
See vol. i. p. 566. For the submission of Denmark to Magnus, see Adam
of Bremen, ii. 74, 75. Snorro, Saga of Magnus, c. 19 (Laing, ii. 377).
Adam however represents Magnus’ first occupation of Denmark as the
result of several battles with Swend, while Snorro makes Magnus be
peacefully elected in a Thing at Viborg, after which he makes Swend an
Earl and leaves him as his representative in Denmark.
Footnote 40:
Vita Eadw. 395. “Patrem eum sibi eligit, seque ut filium illi in
omnibus subjicit.” Compare the famous form of the Commendation of
Wales and Scotland to a greater Eadward, vol. i. pp. 60, 129. The
monastic biographer of Eadward gives quite another picture, by way of
preparation for his legendary account of the death of Magnus; “Sola
tamen Dacia, adhuc spirans et anhelans cædes, Anglorum interitum
minabatur, verum quis fuerit tanti conatûs finis sequentia
declarabunt.” Æthel. Riev. X Scriptt. 375.
Footnote 41:
Vita Eadw. 395. “Mittuntur singulis pro celsitudine suâ ab ipso Rege
regalia munera, quæ ut nullius quamlibet multiplex Regis vel principis
umquam æquaret munificentia, Regum pulcherrimus et nobilissimus
Anglorum Rex Ædwardus facit eisdem Francorum principibus _vel annua
vel continua_.” The money seems all to go to France, none to Germany
or Denmark.
Footnote 42:
Vita Eadw. 397.
“Multa dedere quidem, verum supereminet omnes
Larga Ducis probitas Godwini munere talis [tali?].”
The Biographer here, as often, breaks forth into hexameters.
Footnote 43:
Mr. Luard seems to think this ship a mere repetition of the ship given
to Harthacnut. Why?
Footnote 44:
Vita Eadw. 397.
“Aureus è puppi leo prominet; æquora proræ
Celsæ pennato perterret corpore draco
Aureus, et linguis flammam vomit ore trisulcis.”
Were the dragon and the lion thus coupled to express Eadward’s mixed
origin, English and Norman?
Footnote 45:
Ib.
“Nobilis appensum pretiatur purpura velum,
Quo patrum series depicta docet varias res,
Bellaque nobilium turbata per æquora Regum.”
For instances of historical tapestry see vol. i. p. 303.
Footnote 46:
See vol. i. p. 307.
Footnote 47:
On the legendary history of Eadward see Appendix B.
Footnote 48:
See vol. i. pp. 288, 365.
Footnote 49:
See vol. i. pp. 244, 462.
Footnote 50:
See Appendix B.
Footnote 51: