Florence. The story of Eadric pretending that Eadmund was dead no doubt
comes from a ballad, but I do not see that that makes it at all
untrustworthy. A contemporary ballad, such as that of Maldon or the lost
ballad on which Henry of Huntingdon must have founded his account of
Stamfordbridge, is surely very good authority. But while Florence and
William of Malmesbury place the story at Sherstone, Henry of Huntingdon
transfers it to Assandun; he therefore leaves out the incident of
Eadric’s striking off the man’s head or otherwise professing to have
killed Eadmund, a story which was of course inconsistent with Eadric’s
position at Assandun, where he held a command on Eadmund’s side. But
this incident is surely an essential part of the story; it is not
Florence and William who have added it, but Henry who has left it out.
William of Malmesbury simply says that Eadric “gladium in manu tenens
quem, in pugna quodam rustico impigre cæso, cruentarat, Fugite, inquit,
miseri, fugite, ecce, Rex vester hoc ense occisus est.” Florence is
fuller; “Siquidem quum pugna vehemens esset, et Anglos fortiores esse
cerneret, cujusdam viri, regi Eadmundo facie capillisque simillimi,
Osmeari nomine, capite amputato et in altum levato, exclamat Anglos
frustra pugnare, dicens
‘Vos Dorsetenses, Domnani, Wiltonienses,
Amisso capite præcipites fugite;
En domini vestri caput Eadmundi Basilei
Hic teneo manibus, cedite quantocius.’”
(The same stratagem is said to have been employed by an English soldier
at the Battle of the Standard. See Æthelred of Rievaux, X Scriptt. 345;
“Cujusdam prudentis viri figmento, qui caput unius occisi in altum
erigens, regem clamabat occisum, revocati, vehementius solito irruunt in
obstantes.” The story is told with great spirit by Peter of Langtoft, i.
480.)
The metrical character of the speech given by Florence was first
remarked by Professor Stubbs (R. Howden, i. 82); but we may be sure that
both this and the other longer speech are merely expansions of the
vigorous little bit of English given us in Henry of Huntingdon, “Flet
Engle, flet Engle, ded is Edmund,” which are likely enough to be
Eadric’s real words. Still the speech in Florence is valuable (see
above, p. 558). It helps us to the party divisions of Wessex at the
moment of the battle. The Wilsætas are here reckoned among the followers
of Eadmund, but Florence had just before said that Eadric, Ælfmær, and
Ælfgar were there “cum Suthamtoniensibus et Wiltoniensibus
provincialibus, innumeraque populi multitudine in parte Danorum.” It is
plain then that the northern and southern parts of Wiltshire were
arrayed on opposite sides. The incident of Eadmund taking off his helmet
and hurling his spear at Eadric is found only in William of Malmesbury;
“Fugissent continuo Angli, nisi rex, cognita re, in editum quemdam
collem procederet, ablata galea caput suum commilitonibus ostentans.” I
hope that this is not copied from the like story of William at Senlac;
it is an incident which might easily repeat itself; and the notion of
Eadmund getting on higher ground to show himself, falls in with the
difference between a general fighting on foot like Eadmund and one
fighting on horseback like William.
There is nothing in the English accounts which calls for special remark
till we come to the battle of Assandun. All the accounts agree as to the
treason of Eadric at Aylesford. But it is to be noticed that the remark
made in p. 417 as to the two classes of treasons laid to the charge of
Eadric applies here. The treasons reported at Sherstone and Assandun
must be facts; the treason reported at Aylesford may have been only a
general surmise. As to the order of events all agree, only Florence, in
his reckoning, goes by the number of armies, Henry of Huntingdon by that
of battles. The third army fought two battles, one under the walls of
London, the other at Brentford.
As for the battle of Assandun, I have no doubt that the modern Ashington
is the true site. In June, 1866, I went over the ground with Mr.
Dawkins, Florence in hand. We found that the place exactly answered his
description, and I afterwards compared it with the other authorities.
Another spot which has been proposed is Ashdown in another part of
Essex. I suppose its claims rest on the description of the Encomiast
(ii. 9), “in Æsceneduno loco, quod nos Latini _montem fraxinorum_
possimus interpretari.” But this only shows the foreign writer’s
imperfect knowledge of English. _Assandun_ is simply, as Florence has
it, _mons asini_. Henry of Huntingdon’s form _Esesdun_ may come from
substituting the later genitive _asses_ for the older _assan_, or from a
confusion with Ælfred’s _Æscesdun_ in 871, or possibly from a shrinking
from so unheroic a meaning as _mons asini_. The modern form Assington or
Ashington is due to the same corruption which has changed Abb_an_dun and
Hunt_an_dun and Ælfred’s Eth_an_dun into Ab_ing_don, Hunt_ing_don, and
Ed_ing_ton. The form in -_ing_ is so common that it has swallowed up
others which are less familiar. As for the other hill, Canewdon, the
local explanation which connects it with the name of Cnut is certainly
very tempting, though it is perhaps a little hard to get it out of
_Cnutesdún_. But the Domesday form (ii. 44) _Carendun_ is clearly
corrupt, and the pronunciation Cánewdon is a very recent corruption,
savouring of the schoolmaster. On the lips of the oldest inhabitant it
is distinctly Caneẃdon, which brings us near, if not to _Cnuto_, at
least to _Canutus_.
The battle of Assandun was distinctly a national struggle on the English
side. In the words of the Chronicles, “Þær ahte Cnut sige, and gefeht
him ealle Engla þeode.” So just before, Eadmund’s army is called “ealle
Engla þeode,” and Florence says that he came “cum exercitu quem de tota
Anglia contraxerat.” The presence of Ulfcytel and Godwine witnesses to
the presence of the forces of such strongly Danish districts as
East-Anglia and even distant Lindesey, while Eadric is distinctly marked
in Florence as commanding, among other forces, the equally distant
Magesætas; “cum Magesetensibus et exercitus parte cui præerat.”
My account of the battle comes from three sources. The strictly military
part of it, the arrangements and intentions of the two generals, comes
from Florence. The poetical part, the picture of the King by his
Standard and his charge upon the enemy, comes from Henry of Huntingdon;
I have even ventured to bring in a few touches from the Encomiast, whose
account of this one battle seems to be historical. But it must be
remembered that the stratagem of Eadric, which Florence and William of
Malmesbury place at Sherstone, is by Henry of Huntingdon moved to
Assandun. Eadmund, in his great charge, has nearly reached Cnut’s post
in the Danish army, when Eadric cries out “Flet Engle,” &c., takes to
flight himself, and the rest of the English army follow him. I hope that
I have already shown that the story of Eadmund’s pretended death is in
its place at Sherstone, and that its details have been changed to make
it suit the circumstances of Assandun. It is also plain from the other
accounts that, though the flight of Eadric greatly weakened the English
forces, yet the battle went on long after.
I will now turn to the foreign accounts, beginning with the absolutely
contemporary Thietmar. We have seen something of him when dealing with
the accounts of the martyrdom of Ælfheah. Thietmar clearly took a deep
interest in English affairs without fully understanding them. He wrote
down the accounts which he heard at the time as well as he could make
them out, but in so doing he often made havoc of his story. Still an
author to whom the struggle of Cnut and Eadmund was the latest piece of
foreign news must have his use; and we shall find that Thietmar here, as
before, gives us some hints which, if used cautiously, may be of great
value. His account is full of blunders, but there is nothing of
perversion, romance, or colouring. His story (vii. 28, ap. Pertz, iii.
849) runs thus. After the death of Æthelred, Harold and Cnut the sons of
Swegen, with their Earl Thurgut (“cum duce suimet Thurguto”), besiege
London with 340 ships, each manned by eighty men. The city was defended
by the Lady Emma—who is described as “tristis nece viri suimet et
defensoris”—with her two sons Æthelstan and Eadmund—Æthelred’s first
family being as usual mistaken for children of Emma—together with two
Bishops and other chief men (“duobus episcopis ceterisque primatibus”).
The siege lasted six months; at last the Lady, tired out (“bello
defatigata assiduo”), asked for peace. The Danes demanded the surrender
of the two Æthelings to be put to death, the payment of 15,000 pounds of
silver as the Lady’s ransom, of 12,000 pounds as the ransom of the
Bishops, the surrender of all the coats of mail in the city, 24,000 in
number (“numerus incredibilis”), and of 300 hostages. If these terms are
not agreed to, all would be put to death (“sin autem, omnes ter
clamabant eos una gladio perituros”). The Lady (“venerabilis regina”—I
need not say that this is a mere title of honour and has no reference to
the age of the future bride of Cnut), after some hesitation, consents to
these terms. The Æthelings escaped by night in a little boat, and
forthwith begin to gather a force for the relief of their mother and of
the city. Eadmund one day falls in with Thurgut, who was engaged in
plundering. A drawn battle follows, in which both Thurgut and Eadmund
are killed. The Danes go back to their ships, and hearing that Æthelstan
is coming with a British force to the relief of the city (“intelligentes
urbi solatium ab Æthelsteno superstite et _Britannis_ venientibus
afferri”), they raised the siege after killing or mutilating their
hostages (“truncatis obsidibus”). The strictly contemporary character of
the account is shown by the prayer with which the Bishop of Merseburg
winds up his story; “Et destruat eos [Danos] atque disperdat protector
in se sperantium Deus, ne umquam solito his vel aliis noceant fidelibus.
In ereptione civitatis illius gaudeamus et in cetero lugeamus.”
This account sounds very wild, and it is easy to show that there are
plenty of mistakes in it. But written as it was at the very time, while
the final upshot of the war was still uncertain, it suggests some very
important points. To mistake Æthelstan and Eadmund for sons of Emma was
a common and easy blunder. But to suppose that Emma had come back to
England with Æthelred, that she was now in London, that, with or without
the consent of Eadmund, she entered into negotiations with Cnut, are
statements which are not found in our Chronicles, but which do not
contradict what is found there. They are statements which are perfectly
possible; they may even throw light on the marriage of Cnut and Emma in
the next year. The mention of the two Bishops again falls in with the
fact, which we have got at in another way, that Archbishop Lyfing was in
the city. Then, though it is quite certain that London did not stand a
continuous siege of six months, beginning with July 1016, yet London
must have been besieged off and on for about that time in the course of
the year 1016. Then the death of Eadmund is of course wrongly given, and
the death of Thurkill also, if by Thurgut we are to understand Thurkill.
But this last point is by no means clear, as Thietmar goes on
immediately to tell the story of Ælfheah, in which Thurkill, though not
Ælfheah (see above, p. 677), appears with his right name. But the thing
which is most remarkable in this account is the mention of Harold the
brother of Cnut and of Æthelstan the brother of Eadmund. Harold and
Æthelstan are men whose existence we know, but not much more about them.
There was no temptation to bring them in, unless they had really played
a part in the war. I think we may infer that Harold did accompany Cnut,
and that Æthelstan had a share in the campaign—that is, that he did not
die before his father (see above, p. 691). Moreover Thietmar, who called
Ælfheah Dunstan, was quite capable of confounding the two brothers and
transposing their names. Let us only read Eadmund for Æthelstan and
Æthelstan for Eadmund, and we get a consistent and probable narrative.
The tale was probably told Thietmar by some one who came from London and
who did not enlarge on the western fights of Pen Selwood and Sherstone.
He dwelt mainly on what happened in and near his own city. Æthelstan, it
would seem, was killed, as is perfectly probable, in one of the battles
near London or in some unrecorded skirmish. The Danes raise the siege,
as we know that they twice did, before the armies of Eadmund. Those
armies, levied mainly in the western shires, are by Thietmar called
_Britanni_. This expression is one of the most remarkable in the whole
story. It must have some special force; it is not Thietmar’s usual way
of speaking of Englishmen. We can hardly doubt that Thietmar’s English
informant, speaking of troops levied mainly within the shires of the old
_Wealhcyn_, spoke of them as _Brettas_ or _Wealas_. Altogether I look on
this account as worthy of all heed. I have not ventured to insert the
death of Æthelstan or the negotiation between Emma and Cnut in the text
as thoroughly ascertained facts, but I certainly look upon both as
highly probable.
I must now turn to a foreign writer of quite another character, the
Encomiast of Emma. I have already mentioned (see above, p. 670) how he
makes Thurkill bring Cnut into England. This is before the death of
Æthelred. He now (ii. 6) goes on to tell us how, before Cnut himself
landed, Thurkill determined to win Cnut’s favour by some great exploit.
He therefore lands, in what part of England it is not said, with the
crews of forty ships, and fights the battle of Sherstone (“ascendit cum
suis e navibus dirigens aciem contra Anglorum impetum qui tunc in loco
Scorastan dicto fuerat congregatus”) all by himself against an English
force of more than double his numbers (“Danorum exercitus ... medietati
hostium minime par fuerat”), over whom he of course gains a complete
victory. Eric then (see p. 379), fired by the example of Thurkill, is
allowed to go on another expedition, in which he fights several battles
and wins much plunder. Cnut then, seemingly looking on the country as
his own, forbids further ravages (“rex parcens patriæ, prohibuit ultra
eam prædari”), but orders a strict siege to be laid to London, which is
oddly called “metropolis terræ,” and which the writer seems half to
fancy was on the sea (“undique enim mari quodammodo non pari vallatur
flumine”). Just at this time Æthelred died, being removed, according to
the Encomiast, by God’s special providence, in order that Cnut might
enter the city and that both Danes and Englishmen might have a
breathing-space; “Deus itaque qui omnes homines vult magis salvare quam
perdere, intuens has gentes tanto periculo laborare, eum principem qui
interius civitati præsidebat educens e corpore, junxit quieti
sempiternæ, ut eo defuncto liber Cnutoni ingressus pateret, et utrique
populo confecta pace paulisper respirare copia esset.” The citizens
accordingly bury Æthelred and make a capitulation with Cnut, by which
the city is surrendered to him. Cnut accordingly enters the city, and if
not crowned, is at least enthroned; “Cnuto civitatem intravit, et in
solio regni resedit.” But a part of the troops within the city
disapprove of the agreement with Cnut, so on the night after his
entrance they leave the city with a young man called Eadmund, a son of
the late King; “cum filio defuncti principis egressi sunt civitatem;” so
directly after “Ædmund, sic enim juvenis qui exercitum collegerat dictus
est.” Eadmund easily gathers an army, because the English were more
inclined to him than they were to Cnut; “nec quieverunt quousque omnes
pene Anglos sibi magis adhuc adclines quam Cnutoni conglobarent.” Cnut
is meanwhile in London, but finding that he cannot trust the Londoners,
he first repairs his ships, and then leaves the city and winters in
Sheppey, having declined an offer of single combat made to him by
Eadmund. Eadmund enters London, where he is joyfully received, and
spends the winter, having Eadric with him as his chief counsellor (“erat
quoque ejus partis comes primus Edricus, consiliis pollens, sed tamen
dolositate versipellis, quem sibi ad aurem posuerat Ædmund in omnibus
negotiis”). The next Lent is spent by Eadmund in gathering a vast force
with the intention of driving Cnut out of the country. The story now
becomes more trustworthy, and we get a spirited account of the battle of
Assandun, from which I have not scrupled to draw largely in the text. I
need only mention here that the treacherous flight of Eadric is as
distinctly asserted as in any English account. The only difference is
that it is placed before the battle has actually begun. The words are,
“Ibique, nondum congressione facta, Edric, quem primum comitem Ædmundi
diximus, hæc suis intulit affamina, ‘Fugiamus, O socii, vitamque
subtrahamus morte imminenti, alioquin occumbemus illico, Danorum enim
duritiam nosco.’ Et velato vexillo quod dextra gestabat, dans tergum
hostibus, magnam partem militum bello fraudabat. Et, ut quidam aiunt,
hoc non caussa egit timoris sed dolositatis, ut postea claruit; quia hoc
eum clam Danis promisisse, nescio quo pro beneficio, assertio multorum
dicit.”
The Scandinavian writers are, if possible, yet more wonderful. In the
Saga of Olaf Haraldsson (Laing, i. 8; Johnstone, 89) we read how, when
Æthelred came back from Normandy, or, according to this account, from
Flanders, Olaf took service under him and joined in an attack on London,
which was then held by the Danes. Olaf with his ships breaks down London
bridge and takes Southwark, on which the Londoners surrender and receive
Æthelred. Olaf passes the winter in England, and, strange to say, fights
the battle of Ringmere in Ulfcytel’s land (p. 93); “Þá atto þeir orrosto
micla á Hríngmaraheidi á Ulfkelslandi, þát ríki átti þá Ulfkell
Snillingr.” (See above, p. 654.) By a yet more amazing confusion Olaf is
next made to take Canterbury; he then has the general command of all
England, where he stays three years. In the third year Æthelred dies,
and is succeeded by his sons Eadmund and Eadward. Olaf now leaves
England, and performs divers exploits in _Valland_ or Gaul. Meanwhile
Cnut and Eric come into England, where Eric fights a battle near London,
in which Ulfcytel is killed. Cnut fights several battles with the sons
of Æthelred with various success. He then marries Emma, by whom he has
three children, Harold, Harthacnut, and Gunhild. He then divides the
kingdom with Eadmund, who is presently killed by Eadric Streona. Cnut
now drives all the sons of Æthelred out of England; they take refuge at
Rouen in Valland, where Olaf joins them. They lay plans for recovering
England from Cnut, Northumberland being promised to Olaf. Olaf sends
over his foster-father Rana (see p. 404) into England, who spends a
winter there, collecting forces. In the spring Olaf and the sons of
Æthelred go over into England themselves, but after some fighting, the
power of Cnut is found to be too strong for them, so Olaf goes into
Norway and the sons of Æthelred return to Valland.
Not less amazing is the version in the Knytlinga Saga (c. 7–16;
Johnstone, 103 et seqq.). Here again Æthelred is made to return after
the death of Swegen with the help of Olaf. Cnut is only ten years old at
his father’s death; still, as his brother Harold is dead, he succeeds in
Denmark. After three years, it is thought good that he should assert his
claims to England. So he sets sail with the Earls Eric and Ulf, and with
Heming and Thurkill the Tall, the sons of Strut-Harold (see above, p.
670). They land in England at a place called Fliot; their first battle
is fought in Lindesey. They then take the town of Hemingburgh
(“Hemingaborg à Englandi”) and go on conquering towards the south. In
the autumn Æthelred dies, Emma is just about to leave England, when Cnut
stops her and persuades her to marry him (see Appendix ZZ). The English
now (p. 129) choose four Kings, sons of Æthelred and Emma (“Eptir andlat
Adalrads konungs voru til konunga teknir synir hans oc Emmu
drotningar”). The eldest is Eadmund the Strong (“Jatmundr enn sterki”),
the others Eadgar, Eadwig, and Eadward the Good (“Jatvardr enn godi,”
see above, p. 688). The battle of Sherstone is now fought, but one is
rather surprised to find it fought in Northumberland by the banks of the
Tees. Eadmund and Cnut both fight on horseback, and meet face to face in
the battle. On a report that Eadmund is killed the English take to
flight. After this is placed the story of Godwine’s introduction to Ulf
(see Note ZZ). Cnut next defeats the sons of Æthelred in a battle at
Brentford, then comes (p. 134) the battle of Assundun, which is
described as “Assatun to the north of the Daneswood” (“Knutr konungr
atti ena þridu orrostu vid Adalradsyni, þar sem heita Assatun: vard þar
en mikil orrosta: þat er nordr fra Danaskogum”). A fourth battle and a
fourth defeat of the English follows at Norwich. Eadmund and his
brothers then take shelter in London. Cnut sails up the river and
besieges the city. The English come out to fight, and, while Cnut
continues the siege, Eric, with some of the Thingmen, fights a battle
against Ulfcytel (“Ulfkell Snillingr”) and puts him to flight. He then
wins another battle at Ringmere. Cnut is still besieging Eadmund in
London, when it is agreed that the kingdom shall be divided. Then
follows the murder of Eadmund. (See Appendix WW.)
All this is wonderful enough, but it is hardly so wonderful as what we
read, not in any saga, but in the sober Annals of Roskild (Langebek, i.
376); “Sven Angliam invasit, regem Adelradum expulit et Britanniæ fines
potitus, vix tres menses supervixit. Post cujus mortem Edmundus filius
Adelradi, quem Sveno expulit, Kanutum filium Suenonis et Olavum filium
Olavi regis Norwegiæ, qui ibi obsides fuerant, in vincula conjecit (see
p. 375).... Mortuo Edmundo rege Anglorum filius Adelradus in regnum
successit. Quod audiens Kanutus, veteris injuriæ non immemor quam pater
ejus sibi et Olavo intulerat, cum mille armatis navibus transfretavit,
et immensis viribus Angliam invasit, triennium cum Adelrado certavit.
Adelradus, fessus et bello et senio, quum obsideretur in Londonia
civitate, obiit, relinquens filium Edwardum, quem suscepit ab Ymma
regina, quæ fuit filia Rothberti comitis. Kanutus victor exsistens,
ipsam Ymmam duxit uxorem, genuitque ex ea filium Hartheknud.”
It is hardly worth while examining these stories in detail, though it
would not be hard to point out some of their confusions and
transpositions. They should make us thankful for the priceless heritage
of our own Chronicles.
NOTE WW. p. 395.
THE CONFERENCE OF CNUT AND EADMUND.
The conference between Cnut and Eadmund has grown in the hands of many
historians, from Henry of Huntingdon onwards, into a single combat
between the two Kings, which, as Mr. Earle says (Saxon Chronicles
Parallel, 340), “became in the course of time one of the established
sensation scenes of history.” The Chronicles and Florence know nothing
of the story. The Chronicles simply say, “And coman begen þa cyningas
togædre æt Olanige,” and go on to mention the terms of the agreement. So
Florence, who is a little fuller; “Dein uterque rex in insulam quæ
Olanege appellatur, et est in ipsius fluminis medio sita, trabariis
advehitur, ubi pace, amicitia, fraternitate, et pacto et sacramentis
confirmata, regnum dividitur.” The Knytlinga Saga knows nothing of the
story, and the Encomiast (ii. 12, 13) describes at great length the
negotiation which led to the division of the kingdom, without any
reference to a combat. Mr. Earle ingeniously suggests that the notion of
the combat arose from a misunderstanding of the words of the Chronicles,
as the words “coman togædre” might mean either a hostile meeting or a
friendly conference,—the latter of course being their meaning here.
It is hardly worth while to go at length through all the later versions,
but the utterly different accounts in William of Malmesbury and Henry of
Huntingdon, and the strange tale of Walter Map, may well be compared
together. According to William (ii. 180), Eadmund had already collected
a new army in Gloucestershire, and the two armies are standing ready for
battle, “quum infestis signis constitissent.” Then Eadmund, to spare
further bloodshed (“ne duo homunculi propter ambitionem regnandi tot
subjectorum sanguine culparentur”), proposes a single combat. This
challenge Cnut refuses, on the ground that he would have no chance
against a man so much bigger and stronger than himself as Eadmund was;
“Abnuit prorsus, pronuncians animo se quidem excellere sed contra tam
ingentis molis hominem corpusculo diffidere.” He proposes instead that,
as each of them had a fair claim to a kingdom which had been held by his
father (“quia ambo non indebite regnum efflagitent, quod patres amborum
tenuerint”), instead of fighting for the kingdom, they should divide it
between them. The armies on both sides agree, and the division is
quietly carried out, though seemingly against the wishes of Eadmund, who
is spoken of as “unanimi clamore omnium superatus.” In Henry of
Huntingdon (M. H. B. 756 C, D), when the armies are gathered together in
Gloucestershire for the seventh time, the chief men (“proceres”),
seemingly on both sides, agree that, instead of another battle, the two
Kings shall decide the matter by single combat (“pugnent singulariter
qui regnare student singulariter”). The Kings approve, and Henry adds,
“nec enim mediocris erat rex Cnut probitatis.” They fight therefore in
Olney (“positi igitur reges in Olanie duellum inceperunt”). Henry of
Huntingdon seems to have been not quite clear whether he ought to
describe a French tournament or a Scandinavian _holmgang_. There is no
mention of horses, but we read of the lances being broken, and it is not
till then that the champions draw their swords. Then the fight really
begins. The people on each side behold and listen to the “horribiles
tinnitus et igneas collisiones,” which most likely come from a ballad.
The strength of Eadmund however has the better of it (“tandem vigor
incomparabilis Edmundi _fulminare_ cœpit.” See above, p. 392). Cnut
resists manfully, but begins to fear for his life; he therefore proposes
that they shall fight no longer, but divide the kingdom and become sworn
brothers (“fratres adoptivi”). Eadmund agrees (“his verbis juvenis mens
generosa delinita est”), and they exchange the kiss of peace. Walter Map
(De Nugis, 204) has yet another version. The armies meet one another
“apud Durherst in valle Gloucestriæ super Sabrinam.” The Danes have the
larger host (“Chnutus dimidium Angliæ cum Dacis adduxerat”). Still the
Danes are afraid, because of the valour of the English and their own
unjust cause. They therefore demand that the matter shall be settled by
a single combat of champions (“Fiat pro bello duellum, et victor pugil
domino suo regnum obtineat cæteris in pace dimisis”). Eadmund determines
to fight himself and not by a champion; so Cnut determines to do the
same (“quatinus informis absit imparitas, par enim congressio regum et
bene consona”). They meet in the island on horseback, their horses are
killed, and they fight on foot. The personal description of the Kings is
quite unlike any other (“Chnutus procerus et major et altus, Edmundum
grandem et planum, i.e. mediocriter pinguem, tam probo tam improbo
fatigavit assultu”). They exchange sarcasms and go on fighting, till the
Danes, seeing Cnut in danger, demand that the Kings should make a
treaty. They accordingly agree to divide the kingdom and to become sworn
brothers (“Daci ... in fœdus eos hujusmodi multis coëgerunt precibus et
lacrymis, quatinus æqualiter inter eos divisum possiderent tota vita sua
regnum, et post mortem alterius succederet superstes in solidum,
factique sunt ibi fratres et amici, fideque firmissima conglutinati”).
Roger of Wendover (i. 457–459) tells the same story, but at much greater
length and with a much greater display of eloquence. He attributes the
first proposal of the single combat to Eadric (“iniquus dux Eadricus”).
The fight and the proposal on the part of Cnut are essentially the same
as in Henry of Huntingdon. Cnut makes a long speech, in which he sets
forth the greatness of his own dominion in words which would have been
somewhat beyond the truth some years later (“mihi Dacia servit, mihi
Norwegia succumbit, mihi rex Suanorum manus dedit”). Besides the kiss of
peace, the exchange of arms and clothes is described (“in signum pacis
vestes mutantes et arma, fit Eadmundus Cnuto et Cnuto Eadmundus”). The
exchange of garments is also mentioned by Florence in his account of the
peaceful conference (“armis et vestibus mutatis ... ab invicem
discesserunt”); but if the tradition followed by William of Malmesbury
as to the personal stature of the two Kings be at all trustworthy, a
judgement of Cyrus would presently have been needed to restore the
clothes to their former owners.
The place of meeting, the island in the Severn called Olney, is placed
near Deerhurst by the Worcester Chronicler, by Florence, and by Walter
Map, all of whom had local knowledge; the other Chronicles do not
mention its position. Mr. Earle (Parallel Chronicles, 341) places it
close to Gloucester. I have not examined either place for the purpose,
but I should be inclined to look on the witness of the Hwiccian writers
as decisive.
As for the terms of the treaty, three of the Chronicles simply assign
Wessex to Eadmund and Mercia to Cnut. It was perhaps held that Cnut was
already King of the Northumbrians, and that his possession of that
kingdom could not be called in question. The Worcester Chronicle says
more exactly, “and feng þa Eadmund cyng to Westsexan and Cnut to þam
norð dǽle.” Florence makes the important addition of East-Anglia, Essex,
and London to the share of Eadmund. Henry of Huntingdon gives London to
Cnut; “Edmundus regnum suscepit Westsexe, Cnut vero regnum Merce
suscipiens reversus est Londoniam.” William of Malmesbury follows the
three Chronicles. The Encomiast (ii. 13) talks simply of North and
South. The English deputies say to Cnut, “Dominare in _australi_”—for
which we must of course read “boreali”—“parte cum quiete, e regione
autem sit noster Ædmundus in finibus meridianæ plagæ.” Walter Map (De
Nugis, 206) gives quite another division; “Chnutus Lundoniam et illas
trans Hichenild partes habebat, Edmundus alias.” This reads like an
utter turning about of the whole geography; the Icknild way is an
approach to the frontier as traced by Florence; only Cnut is placed in
Wessex and East-Anglia, and Eadmund in the rest of the kingdom. I have
no doubt as to accepting the line drawn by Florence. Ever since the
extinction of the short-lived dynasty of Guthrum, we always find
East-Anglia heartily throwing in its lot with Wessex, never with Mercia
and Northumberland.
The distinct statement that the Imperial supremacy was reserved to
Eadmund is found, oddly enough, only in Roger of Wendover. His text runs
thus;
“Dividitur itaque regnum, _Eadmundo dictante_, inter duos, ita _ut
corona totius regni regi remaneat Eadmundo_; cedunt ergo in usus ejus
totam Angliam ad australem plagam Thamesis fluminis, cum Est-Sexia et
Est Anglia et civitate Londoniarum, quæ caput est regni; Cnutone etiam
aquilonales partes Angliæ obtinente.”
Roger would of course be by himself no authority on such a point; but it
is plain that he is copying Florence. In the text of Florence there is a
gap, which can be filled up only, as Mr. Thorpe has filled it, with the
words of Roger;
“West-Saxoniam, East-Angliam, East-Saxoniam cum Lundonia [civitate, et
totam terram ad australem plagam Tamesis fluminis obtinuit Eadmundus,
Canuto aquilonares partes Angliæ obtinente; corona tamen] regni Eadmundo
mansit.”
A certain superiority on the part of Eadmund appears also in the words
of William of Malmesbury; “Edmundus ... concordiæ indulsit, fœdusque cum
Cnutone percussit, sibi West-Saxoniam, illi concedens Merciam.” Henry of
Huntingdon (756 C), on the other hand, falls into the mistake of
supposing that Cnut occupied London after the battle of Assandun,
perhaps that he was crowned then; “Rex Cnut, tanta fretus victoria,
Londoniam et sceptra cepit regalia.” In the Encomiast Cnut naturally
takes a lofty tone; the other King is to be his tributary. Such at least
seems to be the meaning of the words, “Sed tamen vectigal etiam suæ
partis vester rex, quicumque ille fuerit, exercitui dabit meo. Hoc enim
illi debeo, ideoque aliter pactum non laudo.” It is hard to weigh the
exact meaning of these rhetorical writers, but this sounds like
something more lasting than the single Danegeld which was undoubtedly to
be paid. This last is witnessed by the Chronicles. The Kings, among
their other agreements, “þæt gyld setton wið þone here.” So Florence,
“Tributo quod classicæ manui penderetur statuto.”
One point still remains. After the death of Eadmund, Cnut, according to
the account in Florence, claimed his dominions by virtue of the Olney
compact. He asks the witnesses whether any provision had been made for
the succession of the brothers or sons of Eadmund, in case Eadmund died
before Cnut; “Interrogavit ... qualiter ipse et Eadmundus de fratribus
et filiis ejusdem inter se loquuti fuissent. Utrum fratribus et filiis
ejus liceret in regno Occidentalium Saxonum post patrem eorum regnare,
si Eadmundus moreretur vivente illo.” They made the answer which I have
given in the text at p. 405; “Se proculdubio scire quod rex Eadmundus
fratribus suis nullam portionem regni sui, nec se spirante neque
moriente, commendasset; dixeruntque hoc se nosse, Eadmundum regem velle
Canutum adjutorem et protectorem esse filiorum ejus, donec regnandi
ætatem habuissent.” Florence goes on to say that their witness was
false, and that the false witnesses were, when a convenient season came,
characteristically put to death by Cnut. But an agreement that each King
should succeed to the dominions of the other, that is, that the adoptive
brother should be preferred to the brother by blood, is in every way
likely. Such an agreement is directly asserted in the Knytlinga Saga, c.
16 (Johnstone, 139). Cnut and Eadmund divide the land and swear that, if
either of them dies childless, he shall succeed to the dominions of the
other (“sva, at skipta skylldi i helminga lanndi med þeim, oc hafa halft
riki hvarr, medan þeir lifdi; enn ef annarrhvarr anndadiz barnlauss, þa
skylldi sa taka allt rikit med frialsu, er eptir lifdi; oc var su sætt
eidum bunndin”). In Saxo (192) the agreement between Cnut and Eadmund
(whom he calls Eadward) is all on one side; Cnut is to have half the
kingdom while Eadmund lives, and the whole at his death (“Edvardus ...
pactum cum hoste conseruit, ut quoad ipse viveret, Canutum dimidii regni
consortem haberet, extinctus omnium honorum hæredem relinqueret”). This
would seem to shut out Eadmund’s children, which seems inconsistent with
the account in Florence. But some agreement to exclude the brothers on
each side was almost necessary. A claim on the part of one of the
Æthelings to succeed Eadmund, a claim on the part of Harold of Denmark
to succeed Cnut, would be almost sure to be put forward. And it might be
thought to be on the whole for the common interest of both Kings to shut
out such claims. The brothers on both sides were much more dangerous
than the sons. Cnut most likely had no children as yet. And even if
either of the doubtful brood of Ælfgifu of Northampton was already born,
he must have still been in his cradle. So were the two little Æthelings,
the “clitunculi” of Florence, the sons of Eadmund and Ealdgyth. The
words of the witnesses clearly imply that these children were put in a
different position from their uncles. The possibility of their coming to
the crown is recognized; Cnut is to be their guardian till they are of
age to reign. Of course this does not mean that he was to resign in
their favour when they came of age; it means only that they were to be
in the same position as other minor Æthelings, as the sons of Æthelred
the First (see p. 109) or the sons of Eadmund the Magnificent (see p.
63). They were to be passed over for the present; at any future vacancy
they might be elected or they might not. An arrangement of this kind
seems to agree both with the words of the witnesses and with the
circumstances of the case. I assume of course that, if Cnut was to
succeed Eadmund, Eadmund was equally to succeed Cnut, just as in the
agreement between Harthacnut and Magnus (see p. 508). No other terms
would be possible in an agreement between two sworn brothers, in which
whatever superiority there was to be on either side was reserved to
Eadmund.
NOTE XX. p. 398.
THE DEATH OF EADMUND.
The Chronicles are silent as to the manner and place of Eadmund’s death.
All that they say is, “Þá to Sc̃e Andreas mæssan forðferde se kyning
Eadmund.” Florence adds, “decessit Lundoniæ.” He mentions neither Cnut
nor Eadric, and in a later passage he seems to exclude Eadric. At least
when Cnut puts Eadric to death, the reason is said to be, “quia timebat
insidiis ab eo aliquando circumveniri, sicut domini sui priores
Ægelredus et Eadmundus frequenter sunt circumventi.” If Florence had
thought that Eadmund was killed by Eadric, he would surely have said so
more plainly. The treasons of Eadric towards Æthelred and towards
Eadmund are put on a level, and no one ever charged Eadric with the
death of Æthelred. Florence, as his whole narrative shows, was not slack
at attributing crimes to Eadric, but that he had anything to do with the
death of Eadmund he nowhere hints.
The language of the Encomiast (ii. 14) is obscure and mysterious, and
his way of speaking of the Deity may be thought slightly
anthropomorphic. God, in his wisdom, took away Eadmund, lest the
contention for the crown should be renewed, and in order that Cnut might
possess the whole kingdom peaceably. The whole passage is remarkable;
“Verumtamen Deus, memor suæ antiquæ doctrinæ, scilicet omne regnum in
seipsum divisum diu permanere non posse, non longo post tempore Ædmundum
eduxit e corpore, Anglorum misertus Imperii, ne forte, si uterque
superviveret, neuter regnaret secure, et regnum diatim adnihilaretur
renovata contentione.... Cujus rei gratia eum Deus jusserit obire, mox
deinde patuit; quia universa regio illico Cnutonem sibi regem elegit, et
cui ante omni conamine restitit, tunc sponte sua se illi et omnia sua
subdidit.”
Adam of Bremen, who is not very well versed in English genealogy, says
(ii. 51), “Frater Adelradi Emund, vir bellicosus, in gratiam victoris
veneno sublatus est.” The murderer, whether Eadric or any one else, is
not mentioned, and the words, though they might be taken as accusing
Cnut, perhaps rather point to a version more like some of those which I
shall presently mention.
We now come to the long string of English writers who accuse Eadric.
William of Malmesbury (ii. 180) says that Eadmund died “ambiguum quo
casu extinctus;” he then goes on to mention the charge against Eadric as
a rumour;
“Fama Edricum infamat, quod favore alterius mortem ei per ministros
porrexerit. Cubicularios regis fuisse duos, quibus omnem vitam suam
commiserat, quos pollicitationibus illectos, et primo immanitatem
flagitii exhorrentes, brevi complices suos effecisse. Ejus consilio
ferreum uncum, ad naturæ requisita sedenti, in locis posterioribus
adegisse.”
Here the deed is done by two chamberlains of Eadmund. In another version
the actual murderer is a son of Eadric. The intention of this change is
obvious. The son of Eadric is of course meant to be a son of Eadmund’s
sister Eadgyth, so that we get the additional horror of a sisters son
killing his uncle. It was either forgotten that a son of Eadric and
Eadgyth would be a mere child, or else to kill Eadmund by the hand of a
child was thought to be a further improvement. The scene is also placed
at Oxford. In this shape we get the tale in Henry of Huntingdon (M. H.
B. 756 D);
“Edmundus rex post paucos exhinc dies proditione occisus est apud
Oxineford. Sic autem occisus est. Quum rex hostibus suis terribilis et
timendissimus in regno floreret, ivit nocte quadam in domum evacuationis
ad requisita naturæ, ubi filius Edrici ducis in fovea secretaria
delitescens consilio patris, regem inter celanda cultello his acuto
percussit, et inter viscera ferrum figens, fugiens reliquit.”
Walter Map (De Nugis, 205–207) has a very strange story, in which, among
other things, he takes care to keep the whole tale in his own part of
England. He nowhere names Eadric, but, just as before in the case of
Æthelred (see above, p. 658), he speaks of a “servus” whose relations to
Eadmund would seem to have been somewhat the same as those of Chiffinch
to Charles the Second. This man asks the King for the lands of
Minsterworth in Gloucestershire, a parish of which Walter himself was
parson, and which, according to his account of the division (see above,
p. 708), would come within the share of Eadmund. The King does not
refuse the gift, but delays it. The servant plans his death, and carries
out his purpose at Minsterworth by much the same means as those
described by William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon. The King,
mortally wounded at Minsterworth, is carried to die at Ross.
Roger of Wendover (i. 459) tells the story in nearly the same words as
Henry of Huntingdon, beginning with a panegyric on Eadmund which is
essentially the same as the panegyrics on Godwine, Harold, and others
(see vol. ii. c. vii. and above, p. 400); “Rex Anglorum Eadmundus, dum
justis in regno appareret mansuetus et pius ac injustis terribilis et
crudelis, invidit ejus bonitati dux et proditor Eadricus, Merciorum
dominus, et qualiter eum perderet infatigabiliter cogitavit.” The
opportunity comes when Eadmund is at Oxford, which is evidently looked
on as a town within Eadric’s government. The title “Merciorum _dominus_”
is odd. We have heard of nothing like it since Æthelred and Æthelflæd.
See above, p. 574.
Bromton (X Scriptt. 906) gives three versions, that of Florence, that of
Henry of Huntingdon, and a third. He decides in favour of that of Henry;
“Verior aliis et authenticior habetur.” His other version contains quite
a new story, but one which shows that the story of the murder of Ælfhelm
was running in the heads of those who devised it. Nothing else could
have suggested the description of Eadric as “Edricus perfidus _comes
Salopiæ_ semper proditor.” Eadmund and Eadric are now on good terms; the
Earl asks the King to visit him at his house, seemingly either at
Shrewsbury or at Oxford. After the evening meal, the King is led to his
bedroom. He there finds a figure of an archer of wonderful workmanship,
with his bow bent and an arrow ready to shoot. He examines and touches
it; the arrow goes off, and pierces and kills Eadmund, that being the
end for which the ingenious piece of mechanism was made. This
introduction of a mechanical contrivance instead of the simpler forms of
murder which we find in the earlier forms of the story may be paralleled
with the other mechanical contrivance which appears in the later forms
of the story of Eadric’s own death. See Note BBB.
Knighton (X Scriptt. 2316) brings in the death of Eadmund with a most
amazing preface. Eadmund has reigned five years, and he is then put to
death at Gloucester, seemingly by a vote of the Witan, on a charge of
favouring the Danes, a precedent which seems not to have been remembered
in 1649. It seems to be only the manner of his death which is left to
the ingenuity of Eadric. The words run thus;
“Edmundus quinto anno regni sui apud Gloverniam, pro eo quod barones sui
suspicabantur eum proditorem et subversorem communis profectus regni sui
[“a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public enemy”], eo quod nimis
inclinatus fuit antedictis Danis et prætulit eorum consilium, _consilio
regiorum suorum juratorum fidelium_, incurrit mortem infra scriptam. De
morte ejus multæ sunt opiniones, sed sufficiat una pro omnibus, quum sit
per proditionem occisum Edrici.”
He then tells the story of the archer, which he calls “unum _tristegum_
cum imagine ad similitudinem unius sagittarii.” Ducange (in voce) is
puzzled at the “tristegum,” which generally means a structure of three
stages, whether a house or a moveable tower. Knighton then tells, as an
alternative version, the story of Henry of Huntingdon, only making
Eadric himself the actual murderer, but with a further alternative of
the two chamberlains. He adds that Eadric at once went to the widowed
Ealdgyth, took her two children from her, and carried them away to Cnut.
With regard to the place where all this happened, we have seen that the
Chroniclers are silent, that Florence names London, that Henry of
Huntingdon names Oxford, while other writers name various other places.
Amidst all this contradiction it is safest to cleave to Florence. But
Mr. James Parker (History of Oxford, p. 26 and Postscriptum 3) argues
strongly on behalf of Oxford. His best argument is that Oxford lies on
the road between Gloucester and London, and that it is the last place
within the Mercian jurisdiction of Eadric. But this assumes that Eadric
was at this moment Earl of the Mercians. He was so at an earlier and at
a later time, and it is assumed in the version of Roger of Wendover that
Oxford was at this time under his government. But the position of Eadric
at this moment is quite uncertain, and a story of a murder done by
Eadric in his own earldom, especially a murder done at Oxford, seems to
connect this story with the stories of Ælfhelm, Morkere, and Sigeferth,
the former husband of Eadmund’s wife Ealdgyth. The mention of Shrewsbury
in the so-called Bromton clearly comes from the same mint, and it seems
to me that the mention of either Oxford or Shrewsbury is a part of the
mythopœic process. Those who put together this version most likely
forgot that Oxford lay within Cnut’s share of the kingdom.
In none of these English versions is it hinted that Cnut had any share
in the deed. Eadric, in a later stage of the story, pleads the murder of
Eadmund as a merit towards Cnut, and that is all. It is only by Cnut’s
own countrymen that he is directly charged with the crime. The Knytlinga
Saga (c. 16; Johnstone, 139) calmly tells us that Eadric, the confident
and foster-brother of Eadmund, killed him—we are not told how—on the
receipt of a bribe from Cnut. “Heidrekr Striona het ein rikr madr, _er
fe tok til þess af Knuti konungi_, et hann sviki Jatmund konung, oc
dræpi hann med mordvigi, oc þetta var hans bani: Heidrekr var þo fostri
Jatmundar konungs, oc trudi hann honom sem sialfun ser.” Saxo (192, 193)
has a story how, seven years after the agreement with Eadmund, Cnut is
saluted at supper by some nameless person as King of all England. The
bearers of the news then say that they have killed Eadmund to win Cnut’s
favour, on which Cnut puts them to death. This is of course one version
of the death of Eadric. See Note BBB. Saxo then adds, “Memorant alii
Edvardum [Edmundum, see above, p. 710] clandestino Canuti imperio
occisum, ejusdemque jussu pœnam a maleficis gratia demendæ suspicionis
exactam. Ut enim innocentiæ suæ fidem adstrueret, seque ei culpæ affinem
fuisse negaret, gravius in sceleratos consulendum putavit. _Ea tamen res
primum regis apud domesticos favorem quassavit._” These last words are
very remarkable. They seem to fall in with several hints from other
sources, which seem to show that Cnut, at least in his later days, was
much less popular in Denmark than in England.
Snorro, in the Saga of Saint Olaf (Laing, ii. 21; Johnstone, 98), simply
says that Eadric killed Eadmund; “Á sama mánadi drap Heinrekr Striona
Eadmund konung.” But he adds that Cnut at once drove all the sons of
Æthelred out of England, and quotes the poet Sigvat, who is also quoted
in the Knytlinga Saga, who says that Cnut either killed or banished all
the sons of Æthelred.
“Oc senn sono
Sló hvern oc þó
Adalráds eda
Utflæmdi Knutr.”
The allusion here must be either to Eadmund or to Eadwig (see the next
Note), most likely to Eadmund.
Of the manner of Eadmund’s death there is no mention in any of these
writers. But the singularly base form of murder which so many English
writers attribute to Eadric or his emissaries was not without other
examples in that age. The younger Dedi of Saxony was said to have been
killed in this way in 1068, and Gozelo, Duke of Lotharingia, in 1078
(see Lambert in annis, pp. 74 and 221 of the lesser Pertz). And the
great Countess herself is charged with doing the like to her husband
“Gigo, Duke of Normandy,” (Vit. Mat. c. viii; Muratori, v. 393). It is
also essentially the same as the way in which the defender of
Stamfordbridge was killed (see Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 762 B), and a large
part of a German army is said to have been destroyed in nearly the same
way when the Emperor Henry the Fifth invaded Poland in 1109. Dlugoss,
Hist. Pol. lib. iv. vol. i. col. 378 (ed. Lips. 1711).
And now as to the truth of the story. I think we can hardly do more than
say, with William of Malmesbury, “ambiguum quo casu extinctus.” Eadmund
died at a moment most convenient for Cnut. Cnut therefore, whether he
really had a hand in his death or not, was sure to be suspected of it.
Eadric was held to be capable of every crime, and was popularly believed
to be the actual doer of every crime that was done. Eadric therefore was
sure to be suspected as well as Cnut. Eadric was doubtless capable of
the crime; so, I fear, was Cnut also at this time of his life. But the
direct evidence against either does not seem strong enough for a
conviction. The silence of Florence, compared with his language
elsewhere, tells in favour of Eadric. The silence of all the English
writers tells in favour of Cnut. This silence could hardly be owing to
his later popularity in England, which has thrown no veil over the other
crimes of his early reign. Florence can hardly fail to have heard the
charge both against Eadric and against Cnut, but, while speaking of
their other crimes, he leaves this out. On the other hand, there is
something which tells against Cnut in the studied obscurity and overdone
piety of the special panegyrist of himself and his wife.
NOTE YY. p. 406.
THE TWO EADWIGS.
Nothing can be plainer than that Eadwig King of the Churls is quite a
different person from Eadwig the Ætheling. The two are confounded by
Bromton (907), who says, “Consilio Edrici exlegavit Edwinum, Edmundi
regis fratrem, qui _ceorlesking_, id est rex rusticorum, appellabatur;
postmodum tamen dolose reconciliatus, factione secretariorum suorum
fraudulenter occisus est.”
I can offer no guess as to the reason of the singular surname of “ceorla
cyning,” which is found in the three Chronicles, Abingdon, Worcester,
and Peterborough. Nor can I say anything as to Eadwig’s earlier history.
An “Eadwig minister” signs a charter of Æthelred in 1005 (Cod. Dipl.
iii. 345), and before that, in 996, land at Bensington had been granted
by Æthelred (vi. 136) to three brothers, Eadric, Eadwig, and Ealdred. As
to the fate of the King of the Churls, the Worcester and Peterborough
Chronicles, followed by Florence, place his banishment in 1017, Florence
adding, “vero sequenti tempore cum rege pacificatus est Eadwius.” The
Abingdon Chronicle puts off his banishment to the Gemót at Cirencester
in 1020. Possibly he was outlawed, reconciled, and outlawed again. We
hear nothing of his death.
Of the Ætheling Eadwig, the Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles (1017)
simply say, “Cnut cyning aflymde ut Eadwig æðeling.” Abingdon adds, “and
eft hine hét ofslean.” Florence, under the years 1016 and 1017, has two
stories which it is not very easy to reconcile with one another. I
suspect however that they arose, like the other statements of Florence
under the years 1016 and 1017, out of two different accounts of the acts
of Cnut’s first Midwinter Gemót. The first version, under 1016,
immediately follows the vote by which the sons and brothers of Eadmund
were set aside. It was followed by a vote of banishment against the
Ætheling Eadwig—“Eadwius egregius et reverendissimus regis Eadmundi
germanus.” Then Cnut holds a conference with Eadric, and asks him if he
can by any means beguile Eadwig to death (“quomodo decipere posset
Eadwium, ut mortis subiret periculum”). Eadric answers that there is a
man fitter for the purpose than himself, namely a nobleman named
Æthelweard—which of all the Æthelweards it is hard to say, but he is
described as being “ex nobilissimo genere Anglorum ortus.” Æthelweard,
it seems, had better opportunities of familiar intercourse with the
Ætheling than Eadric had. Cnut sends for Æthelweard and makes him the
largest promises, if he will undertake the murder of Eadwig. “Bring me
his head,” says Cnut, “and you shall be dearer to me than a brother.”
Æthelweard undertakes the task, but, like Uhtred in the case of
Thurbrand, without any intention of performing it. So Eadwig escapes, at
least for one while.
Directly after, under 1017, as soon as Florence has recorded the
fourfold division of England and the mutual oaths of Cnut and the
English, he goes on to say that, by the advice of Eadric (“consilio
perfidi ducis Eadrici”), Cnut banished both Eadwigs (“rex Canutus
clitonem Eadwium, regis Eadmund igermanum, et Eadwium, qui rex
appellabatur rusticorum, exlegavit”). He goes on to say that the King of
the Churls was reconciled to Cnut, as I have already said, but that the
Ætheling was treacherously murdered within the year by Cnut’s order
(“Eadwius vero clito, deceptus illorum insidiis quos eotenus amicissimos
habuit, jussu et petitione regis Canuti, eodem anno innocenter
occiditur”). This account, which is perhaps really the same as the
other, is of course founded on the Abingdon Chronicle.
William of Malmesbury (ii. 180) has quite another story, which
recognizes the outlawry, but makes the Ætheling die a natural death.
“Frater ejus [Edmundi] ex matre Edwius, non adspernandæ probitatis
adolescens, per proditorem Edricum Anglia, jubente Cnutone, cessit; diu
terris jactatus et alto, angore animi ut fit corpus infectus, dum
furtivo reditu inter Anglos delitescit, defungitur, et apud Tavistokium
tumulatur.”
Now we must choose between these stories. The authority of Florence,
backed as to the main outline of the tale by the Abingdon Chronicle, is
in itself much higher than that of William of Malmesbury. But Florence’s
authority is in this case somewhat lessened by the confused way in which
he tells the story twice over. Also tales of secret conferences and
assassinations are always suspicious, and they are specially suspicious
when they bring in the name of Eadric. If Eadwig died anyhow soon after
his outlawry, people would be sure to say that he was made away with by
Cnut and Eadric. But if he really was so made away with, it is hard to
see how the story in William of Malmesbury could arise. Also, if Eadwig
was outlawed, and therefore banished, it is hard to see how even Eadric
would have the chance of murdering him, unless it is meant that he was
treacherously pursued during his days of grace, as Godwine is said to
have been (see vol. ii. c. vii). It can hardly mean that the hand of
Eadric could reach banished men in foreign lands.
The character of Cnut, at this stage of his career, throws no light on
the matter either way. But it is amusing to see Thierry turning the
particular promise of Cnut to Æthelweard into a general advertisement
for the heads of his enemies; “‘Qui m’apportera la tête d’un de mes
ennemis,’ disait le roi danois avec la ferocité d’un pirate, ‘me sera
plus cher que s’il était mon frère.’”
NOTE ZZ. p. 409.
THE ORIGIN OF EARL GODWINE.
The prominent position of Godwine at the time of Cnut’s death is one of
the most conspicuous facts of our history, and the combined evidence of
the charters and of the Biographer of Eadward has enabled me to trace up
his greatness to the earliest days of Cnut’s reign. But, when we ask for
the birth and parentage of the man who became the greatest of English
subjects, who so nearly became the father of a new line of English
kings, we find ourselves involved in utter obscurity and contradiction.
Was he the son of Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon (see above, p. 663)?
Was he the great-nephew of the arch-traitor Eadric? Or was he the son of
a churl somewhere near Sherstone, introduced by the Dane Ulf to the
favour of Cnut? Or is it possible that none of these accounts rests on
any sure foundation, and that we must remain altogether in the dark as
to the birth of Godwine and the events of his early life?
I will begin with the one fact which appears to be certain, that is the
name of Godwine’s father. While the accounts of him agree in nothing
else, all who mention his father at all agree in giving him the name of
Wulfnoth. (It is hardly worth while to mention that Fordun, v. 11, makes
Godwine a son of Eadric.) I have therefore not scrupled to speak in the
text of Godwine the son of Wulfnoth. Still, as Godwine was one of the
commonest names at the time, it is not safe to assume every Godwine, or
even every Wulfnoth, whom we come across to be the Godwine and the
Wulfnoth with whom we are concerned. But any case in which the two names
come together is at least worthy of notice. There is absolutely no
evidence whether any of the many signatures of various Godwines in the
later days of Æthelred belong to the great Earl or not. But when the
Ætheling Æthelstan, in his will (Cod. Dipl. iii. 363), makes bequests to
two Godwines, and distinguishes one of them as the son of Wulfnoth, this
raises a strong presumption, though it does not reach positive proof,
that our Godwine is the Godwine intended. And, if the expressions of the
bequest fall in with any circumstances in any of the accounts of
Godwine, we reach, though still not quite positive proof, yet certainly
the highest degree of probability.
What then is our available evidence on the subject? Our own historians,
as far as direct statement goes, are silent. Godwine appears in the
Chronicles as Earl of the West-Saxons and as chief supporter of
Harthacnut, without any hint as to who he was. The writers who speak of
his exploits in the time of Cnut are equally silent. Even his own
panegyrist, the Biographer of Eadward, has nothing whatever to tell us
as to his origin. The silence of the Chronicles is not wonderful; they
commonly take people’s position for granted, and introduce them without
any particular description. But the absence of any direct statement in
all our authorities, good and bad, is certainly remarkable, and the
silence of Godwine’s own special admirer, the Biographer of Eadward, is
very remarkable indeed.
But, though none of our own historians introduces Godwine as the son or
nephew of Wulfnoth, or of Eadric, or of any one else, yet we have, on
authority which seems at first sight to be irresistible, two statements
that a Wulfnoth was the father of Godwine, one statement that Eadric was
the great-uncle of Godwine. Florence (anno 1007), in a passage which I
have discussed in other Notes (see pp. 655, 663), says that one of
Eadric’s brothers was named Æthelmær, and that Æthelmær was the father
of Wulfnoth, the father of Earl Godwine. The Canterbury Chronicle (anno
1008) describes Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon as “Godwines fæder
eorles.” Most writers put these two statements together, and assume
Godwine to be the son of Child Wulfnoth and Child Wulfnoth to be the
nephew of Eadric. To me it seems that the two accounts are quite
distinct, and that their statements are almost irreconcileable.
Florence, who speaks of Godwine the son of Wulfnoth as the nephew of
Eadric, does not say that Godwine was the son of Child Wulfnoth, nor
does he in any way identify Child Wulfnoth with Wulfnoth the nephew of
Eadric. The Canterbury Chronicler, who makes Godwine the son of Child
Wulfnoth, is equally silent as to any kindred between Child Wulfnoth and
Eadric. In fact, the way in which they write seems to shut out—perhaps
is designedly meant to shut out—any such kindred either way. Florence
speaks of “Wlnothus, pater West-Saxonum ducis Godwini;” directly
afterwards he speaks of “Suth-Saxonicus minister Wlnothus.” This is the
way in which a man would speak of two distinct Wulfnoths, not of the
same. He says that “Brihtric, brother of Eadric, unjustly accused Child
Wulfnoth.” This is not the way in which he would speak of a charge
brought by one member of the family of which he had just given the
pedigree against another member of the same family. _Prima facie_ then,
the Wulfnoth spoken of under 1007 and the Wulfnoth spoken of under 1008
are two different persons. Nor is it enough to say that, in the entry
under 1008, Florence is translating the Worcester Chronicle, and that he
keeps its language without trying to harmonize it with what he had
himself just before said. Florence is here not merely translating, for
he stops to put in a character of Brihtric of his own composition. It is
certain that Florence cannot be quoted on behalf of the view that
Godwine was the son of Child Wulfnoth; he seems indeed designedly to
exclude any such parentage by distinguishing one Wulfnoth from the
other.
The three elder Chronicles, Abingdon, Worcester, Peterborough, give us
no information either way. Godwine’s name does not occur in any of them
till after the death of Cnut. The Abingdon Chronicle, in describing
Wulfnoth, calls him simply “Wulfnoð cild.” To this description the
Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles add “þone Suðseaxscian;” the
Canterbury Chronicler adds again, “Godwines fæder eorles.” All the
Chroniclers knew, and they all thought it right to state, that Brihtric
was the brother of Eadric; that he was the uncle of the man whom he was
accusing, a fact surely quite as important, is not implied in any way.
The combined evidence of all the Chronicles seems to me to go to
distinguish Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon from any Wulfnoth who was
nephew to Eadric. The evidence of Florence goes the same way. As to the
parentage of Godwine the three elder Chroniclers are silent. Florence
affirms him to have been the son of Wulfnoth the nephew of Eadric; the
Canterbury Chronicler affirms him to have been the son of Child Wulfnoth
the South-Saxon. I do not say that these two statements are logically
contradictory; but it certainly seems to me that, as a matter of
historical evidence, they are very hard to reconcile.
Now which of these two accounts is the more probable? As far as
authority goes, they are much on a level. Neither statement is strictly
contemporary; indeed both of them are statements which in their own
nature could not be contemporary; Wulfnoth, whoever he was, is described
by a form which could not have been used till long after, when his son
had become far more famous than himself. Each description is a mere
insertion into an earlier text; each may be a mere hasty inference from
likeness of name. The authority of Florence on such a matter is quite
equal to that of the Canterbury Chronicle, the latest and least
authoritative of the four. His statement too, as part of an insertion of
some length, describing the character and family of Eadric, has more the
air of a deliberately advised statement than the three words of the
Canterbury Chronicler, which might have been inserted _currente calamo_.
On the other hand, the statement of Florence is most unlikely in itself,
while that of the Canterbury Chronicler has some external support of a
very remarkable kind.
If we admit that Godwine was the great-nephew of Eadric, we are at once
plunged into all kinds of chronological difficulties and into the
strangest of family relations. Eadric was put to death in 1017; there is
nothing to show that he was at all an aged man, rather the contrary.
Godwine must have been at least a grown man in 1018, when he was already
an Earl. Is it possible that Godwine was two generations younger than
Eadric? Again, Eadric married Eadgyth the daughter of Æthelred; Eadward
the son of Æthelred married Eadgyth the daughter of Godwine. Eadric may
well have been a good deal older than his wife, who, as the daughter of
a man who was born in 969, must have been young, and may have been
almost a child, in 1007, the probable year of her marriage (see above,
p. 658). Eadgyth again must have been some years older than her
half-brother Eadward, who was born between 1002 and 1005 (see p. 686).
Eadward again must have been much older than his wife Eadgyth, whose
parents were married in 1019 (see p. 423). Still, allowing for all this,
can we conceive a man marrying the great-great-niece of his own
brother-in-law? The pedigree would stand thus;
Æthelric Æthelred
| |
+------+-----+ +------+-----+
| | | |
Æthelmær Eadric = Eadgyth Eadward.
|
Wulfnoth
|
Godwine
|
Eadgyth.
Eadward may easily have been twenty years older than his wife, but can
we believe that he belonged to the same generation as his wife’s
great-grandfather?
This seems to me to be a strong objection to the statement of Florence.
On the other hand, the statement of the Canterbury Chronicle curiously
falls in with the bequest in the will of the Ætheling Æthelstan; “Ic
gean Godwine Wulfnóðes suna ðes landes æt Cumtúne, ðe his feder ǽr
áhte.” Why should Æthelstan leave Godwine the land which his father had?
The bequest follows immediately on one in which the Ætheling leaves to
one Ælfmær the land which had formerly been his own (“Ic gean Ælmére ðes
landes æt Hamelande ðæ he ǽr áhte”). And this is followed by a very
earnest prayer to his father to confirm the grant to Ælfmær (“Ic bidde
minne feder for Godes ælmihtiges lufan and for minon, ðæt he ðes geunne
ðe ic him geunnen hebbe”), which is not attached to any of his other
bequests. Some special cause evidently lurks under such bequests as
these. They naturally suggest the idea that the lands bequeathed were
confiscated lands which Æthelstan thought it right to restore, in the
one case to the former owner himself, in the other case to the former
owner’s son. Now the lands of Child Wulfnoth would doubtless be
confiscated after his doings in 1009, and a part of them might easily
come into the possession of the Ætheling. For a possession of Child
Wulfnoth the South-Saxon we naturally look in his own shire. And
Domesday shows us two South-Saxon Comptons, one of them held by Harold
(21), the other held by a tenant of Earl Godwine (24). Here is indeed no
actual proof, but there is a remarkable series of undesigned
coincidences in favour of the belief that Godwine was the son of Child
Wulfnoth the South-Saxon, and therefore, as I think, against the belief
that he was the great-nephew of Eadric.
This evidence, if it stood alone, would probably be thought quite
conclusive; but there is another account of Godwine’s birth, which we
could hardly, in any case, accept in its literal shape, but the
existence of which is, in any case, a phænomenon to be accounted for,
and which, when stripped of its romantic details, is in itself by no
means devoid of likelihood. This is that Godwine was the son of a churl
near the field of Sherstone or elsewhere.
This version appears in several places and in several forms, and it
seems to come from more than one independent source of tradition. We
hear of it alike in English, in Danish, and in Norman writers. Thus,
while some Norman writers, as William of Jumièges (viii. 9), speak of
Godwine’s nobility, Wace (Roman de Rou, 9809) expressly calls him
“Quens Gwine,
Ki mult esteit de pute orine.”
Among English writers it is first found in a writer of Henry the First’s
time, whose accounts of things, though often very strange, are always
independent. This is the chronicler whose work is printed in Mr.
Edwards’ Liber de Hyda. In his account of Godwine, against whom he is
bitterly prejudiced, he says (p. 288), “Fuit nempe ex infimo Anglorum
genere ... et licet per omnes fere Angliæ partes potestas ejus
extenderetur, principalis tamen comitatus ejus Australis erat, regio quæ
lingua eorum dicitur Sudsexia.” So Ralph the Black, a chronicler of no
great value who wrote early in the thirteenth century, distinctly
asserts the peasant origin of Godwine. His whole story is full of
mythical elements, still it is of some importance, because some of the
statements in it clearly do not come from the common sources. His story
runs thus (p. 160); “_Godwinus Comes filius bubulci fuit_; in mensa
regis Edwardi offa suffocatus est, et ab Haraldo filio sub mensa
extractus. Hic Godwinus, _a rege Cnutone nutritus_, processu temporis in
Daciam cum breve regis transmissus, callide duxit sororem Cnutonis.”
(See Note EEE.)
One of the fullest accounts among those which assert Godwine’s lowly
origin, and that which has met with most attention from modern writers,
is the picturesque tale in the Knytlinga Saga (c. 11; Johnstone, p.
131). Earl Ulf, pursuing the flying English at Sherstone, loses his way.
He meets a youth driving cattle, who tells him that his name is Godwine
(Gudini), and whom he asks to show him his way to the Danish ships.
Godwine speaks of the difficulty of so doing, when the whole country is
so enraged against the Danes; he refuses the Earl’s offered gift of a
gold ring, but says that he will do what he can for him, and that, if he
succeeds, Ulf may reward him at his pleasure. He then takes the Earl to
the house of his father Wulfnoth (Ulfnad), who is described as a rich
yeoman (bondi), living in very comfortable style. The Earl is well
entertained, especially with good drink; he is greatly pleased with the
house and its inhabitants, old and young, and stays the whole of the
next day there in great comfort. At night Ulf and Godwine are mounted on
two good horses, well caparisoned. Wulfnoth and his wife remind Ulf of
the dangerous errand on which they are sending their only son, and they
trust to his gratitude for a recompense. The Earl is charmed with the
handsome countenance and ready speech of the youth; they ride all night,
and reach Cnut’s ships the next morning. Ulf treats Godwine as his son,
places him by his side, gives him his sister Gytha in marriage, presents
him to Cnut, and procures for him the dignity of Earl.
Here we have a story which, whatever else we say of it, at least fits in
with the chronology of the time. It must be a confused or perverted
shape of the same tradition when Walter Map (199) tells a story in which
the part of Ulf is assigned to King Æthelred. The King loses his way in
hunting, and comes alone at night to ask shelter in the house of his
neat-herd (“ad domus cujusdam custodis vaccarum suarum”). The
neat-herd’s son Godwine (“impiger filius custodis, puer nomine Godwinus,
pulchrior et melior quam ipsi daret linea priorum”) does all kinds of
services for the royal guest, and specially provides him with a supper
which would seem to imply a boundless appetite on the part of the
unready King. He thus wins the King’s heart, who presently promotes him
in every way, makes him a knight, and gives him the earldom of
Gloucester (“tulit ergo ipsum rex in thalamum suum, et processu temporis
sublimavit super omnes principes regni, et cum cingulo militiæ comitatum
ei Gloucestriæ contulit”). The “bubulci filius” shows all manner of
natural gifts in his new elevation, and makes himself famous among both
Christians and Saracens. He is above all things protector of the English
coast, freeing it from pirates, and making England the terror of all
nations, instead of being, as she had been before him, the common prey
of all of them (“pererrabat omnes Angliæ portus, tum terra tum mari,
piratas omnes destruens; et facta est Anglia per ejus operam timor
omnium circum jacentium terrarum quæ fuerat earum direptio et præda”).
Presently Cnut comes, invited, according to this writer’s story, by the
English themselves (see above, p. 693). The story of the war is told
with great confusion, but Godwine appears (204) as the chief supporter
of Eadmund (“At in hac quid fecit Godwinus tempestate? Multa et valida
manu militum collecta, Edmundum Edelredi filium advocavit, et properanti
contra eos occurrunt Chnuto apud Durherst in valle Gloucestriæ super
Sabrinam”). Then comes the story of the single combat of Cnut and
Eadmund (see above, p. 706).
Now, what are we to make of these stories? The one which is most likely
to be true in its main features is that in the Knytlinga Saga; but the
saga is a saga, and I have given some specimens of its inaccuracies and
confusions. In this very story it would be hard to reconcile the
author’s conception of the battle of Sherstone with the truth of
history; Godwine also was not the only son of his parents, as we shall
in course of time hear of his brother (see Edwards, Introduction to
Liber de Hyda, xxxvii.; Mon. Angl. ii. 428, 430); and it is more amazing
still when the saga goes on to tell us that Godwine and Gytha were the
parents, not only of Swegen, Harold, and Tostig, but also of Morkere and
Waltheof. Such a tale is not history; the utmost amount of credit which
I should ever think of giving it would be to admit it as evidence of a
tradition that Godwine was not of illustrious birth, that he was by
origin _ceorl_ and not _eorl_, and that he was in some way connected
with Earl Ulf. The details might be devised to account for an Englishman
of lowly birth marrying the sister of the great Danish Earl. We may, I
think, be sure that the real legend is that which attributes Godwine’s
rise to a service done to Ulf, and that the story of Walter Map which
puts Æthelred instead of Ulf is a later version. Nothing can be wilder
than Walter’s general story, but we may be inclined to believe that he
preserves a piece of genuine history when he speaks of Godwine’s
services towards Æthelred and Eadmund. This agrees in a remarkable way
with the bequest and the will of Æthelstan, if we take that as referring
to Godwine the Earl. The account in Ralph the Black is most likely an
abridgement of that in Walter Map, as both use the same words (“bubulci
filius”), and both tell the same story of Godwine’s marriage (see below,
p. 746), which is quite different from that in the Knytlinga Saga. Yet
we may take Ralph’s words (“a rege Cnutone nutritus”) as a correction of
Walter’s story about Æthelred. The account in the Hyde writer is
remarkable on two grounds. It asserts Godwine to have been of low birth;
it also, like the Canterbury Chronicle, specially connects him with
Sussex, while most of the later writers specially connect him with Kent.
On the other hand, if any one ventures to put any faith in the geography
of the Knytlinga Saga, Godwine must have come from some place near the
borders of Gloucestershire and Wiltshire. Walter Map does not mention
any particular place, but, according to his usual practice of drawing
everything to his own side of England, makes Godwine Earl, not of Kent
or Sussex, but of Gloucester.
We have then a distinct tradition, turning up in several quarters, some
of which at least seem to be independent of one another, which tradition
asserts Godwine to have been a man of churlish birth. Taking the story
in the Knytlinga Saga as the genuine form of the legend, the English
writers and Wace exaggerate, as in such a case they were sure to do, the
lowliness of Godwine’s origin. So do the only modern writers who adopt
the story. These are Sharon Turner (Hist. Angl. Sax. ii. 494), who talks
about “poverty,” “humble mansion,” &c., and Thierry (i. 160), who talks
about a “cabane.” But the Wulfnoth of the saga is not a poor man; he is
a _ceorl_ and not a thegn; but he has everything good about him, good
house, good drink, good horses. His treatment of Ulf seems to be his
usual way of entertaining strangers, while the astonishing supper given
to Æthelred in Walter Map’s version is a special effort for the purpose.
In the Danish writer’s picture, Wulfnoth is, in modern phrase, not a
labourer, not even a tenant farmer, but clearly a rich yeoman. Such a
man might, in the England of those days, easily rise to thegn’s rank
(see p. 90). Eadric had risen from such a rank, or very possibly from a
lowlier one (see above, p. 655), to be Ealdorman of the Mercians and
son-in-law of the King. Still the rise from the yeoman’s comfortable
house to the earldom of the West-Saxons in one generation and to the
throne of England in the next is not an every day event. How far is such
an exaltation probable in the present case?
I assume that the story of the Knytlinga Saga is altogether
irreconcileable with either of the others. Sharon Turner indeed, like
Florence in some of his weaker moments, adopts all three stories at
once. He accepts the pedigree given by Florence without hesitation, and
seemingly without thinking it at all contradictory to the tale of
Godwine’s lowly origin. That tale he adopts in its fulness, and he does
his best to weave the two together. He even conceives Wulfnoth in his
humble estate as probably remembering the high fortunes of his uncle
Eadric, and hoping that a similar good luck may attend his own child.
Somewhat earlier, in recording the story of Brihtric and Wulfnoth, Mr.
Turner calls the latter “the father of Earl Godwine,” and, though he
remarks in a note that the words are absent from _some MSS._ of the
Chronicles, he does not appear to doubt Child Wulfnoth’s paternity. Now
it would be remarkable if a nephew of the powerful Eadric remained in
the condition of a herdsman or even in that of a yeoman, while Eadric
himself had risen to such greatness, and had raised at least one of his
brothers with him. Yet this, however unlikely, is at least possible. But
possibility itself can hardly be stretched so far as to make Wulfnoth
the naval commander of 1009 the same as Wulfnoth the yeoman of 1016.
Doubtless princes and lords, under the frown of fortune, have before now
lurked in much lowlier disguises; but one who, outlaw as he was, still
had twenty ships at his bidding, was far more likely to take service
under King Swegen or to go on with his doings as wiking on his own
account, than to betake himself to the tilth of the ground in a western
shire. I think we may safely assert that, if Godwine was the son of a
West of England yeoman, he was certainly not the son of the South-Saxon
naval captain, and was not likely to be the grand-nephew of Ealdorman
Eadric.
And now, what is the measure of likelihood in the story itself? First of
all, what is always of no small consequence in these questions, if we
grant the truth of the tale in its main outlines, we can understand how
the other tale arose, while the reverse process is by no means so easy.
For, if the tale of the Knytlinga Saga be a fiction, it must be pure
invention without motive. One does not see how any confusion or
misconception can have led to it. The story of Godwine’s lowly birth is
not introduced in the saga, whatever we say of Wace and the Hyde writer,
with the least notion of depreciating him. One therefore hardly sees why
any one should go out of his way to invent the tale. But if there were
several contemporary Wulfnoths, especially if the real one was an
obscure person, mere misconception might lead Florence or his informants
to fasten the paternity upon the wrong Wulfnoth. Or, if falsification is
supposed, its motives are much more obvious than in the other case. To
connect Godwine either with Eadric or with Child Wulfnoth would suit
foes who wish to brand one whom they called a traitor as the kinsman of
earlier traitors. It might suit Danish friends to represent him as
connected with one who had so great a share in setting up the Danish
throne in England. And, as Eadric, with all his crimes, was clearly the
leader of a powerful party, the invention might even suit some among
Godwine’s English friends, who might still regard a connexion with
Eadric as conferring more of honour than of shame.
Again, if we accept the legend in the saga, we can understand the rather
mysterious way in which Godwine himself comes on the stage under the
patronage of Cnut and Ulf, better than if we suppose him to have been a
member of a powerful English family. We can especially understand the
astonishing silence of his own panegyrist. If Godwine had been a scion
of any eminent family, or had been of kin to any famous, or even
infamous, men, we should surely, somewhere or other, find him described
accordingly. But the mass of writers, as we have seen, are utterly
silent; no one introduces him with any description at all; those who
connect him with Eadric or with Child Wulfnoth do it backwards; they
describe Wulfnoth as the father of Godwine, not Godwine as the son of
Wulfnoth.
I think then that, if this story stood by itself, there would be little
difficulty in accepting it. I mean of course in accepting the general
outline of the tale, namely that Godwine was a yeoman’s son who had
somehow attracted the favour of Ulf, and who was by him introduced to
Cnut. Details are quite another matter. The whole narrative of the war
of Cnut and Eadmund in the Knytlinga Saga is so utterly confused and
unhistorical that nothing can be safely said as to time, place, or
circumstance. And the story in Walter Map, as far as concerns the first
rise of Godwine, is even wilder than the saga itself. But the tradition
of Godwine’s churlish origin, taken by itself, would have much to be
said for it. I am inclined to think that it might hold its ground
against the version in Florence. But the statement of the Canterbury
Chronicler, backed up by the will of Æthelstan, is a more formidable
opponent. The two descriptions fit singularly well into one another, and
the coincidence is, on the face of it, undesigned. It is of course
possible that Godwine the son of Wulfnoth and legatee of Æthelstan may
not have been the great Earl; it is possible that, being the great Earl,
he may have been the son of some other Wulfnoth, and not of the
South-Saxon Child. But when we put together the Canterbury Chronicle,
the will of Æthelstan, and the entries in Domesday, their cumulative
force is so great as to make such explanations mere possibilities and no
more. If we accept the will as referring to the great Godwine, and if we
further accept my conjecture as to the death of Æthelstan (see above, p.
700), we may look on Godwine as a brave young warrior, whose services
had, even before the death of Æthelred, entitled him in the Ætheling’s
opinion to a restitution of the lands forfeited by his father. This same
conception of him, which might well be genuine tradition, appears in an
exaggerated form in the version of Walter Map. This view of him is in no
way inconsistent with the fact of the favour which he afterwards found
with Ulf and Cnut. Neither is his favour with Ulf and Cnut inconsistent
with the story of his yeoman origin, but quite the reverse. The main
difficulty, one which I do not see the way to get over, is that Wulfnoth
the churl and Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon cannot be the same man.
The two stories thus become alternatives between which we must choose.
Godwine was either the son of Child Wulfnoth, or the son of Wulfnoth the
churl; in neither case do I believe him to have been the great-nephew of
Eadric. I once inclined, of course with the necessary allowances, to the
story in the Knytlinga Saga; I had not then weighed the arguments
suggested by the will of Æthelstan and the entries in Domesday. On the
strength of these last I now incline to the statement of the Canterbury
Chronicler. But I leave the critical reader to decide.
NOTE AAA. pp. 409, 425.
THE WEST-SAXON EARLDOM.
There is, I think, quite evidence to show that Godwine was raised to
Earl’s rank very early in the reign of Cnut, but that he was not
invested with the vast government of which we afterwards find him in
possession till some years later.
I do not try to identify any of the signatures of “Godwine minister” in
the later days of Æthelred. There are a good many of them, and some of
them may be signatures of the great Earl; but the name Godwine is so
common that it is utterly impossible to say anything either way. But
Godwine undoubtedly signs as Earl from the very beginning of Cnut’s
reign. The earliest charters of Cnut are of the year 1018, and Godwine
signs one of these (Cod. Dipl. iv. 3) as “dux,” though seemingly, as one
would expect, as the junior Earl. But, as Cnut kept Wessex in his own
hands, while he appointed Earls over Northumberland and Mercia, Godwine
could not have been Earl over all Wessex so early as this. He must have
been simply the local Earl of some one shire. That shire may have been
Kent. He is called Earl of Kent by Eadmer (“Cantiæ comes magnanimus,” p.
4), and it is his usual description in later accounts. But writers who
did not take in the position of an Earl of the West-Saxons, and who did
not understand that his jurisdiction took in Kent, may have called
Godwine Earl of Kent simply because they found him acting as Earl at
Dover in 1051. And, on the other hand, we have just seen (see above, p.
727) that there were other versions which call his first earldom Sussex,
and even Gloucester. I do not pretend to settle the question, and it is
of no great moment. The one important point is that Godwine was raised
to high rank in the very beginning of Cnut’s reign, and was raised to
higher rank still somewhat later.
That Godwine at a later time, under Harthacnut and Eadward, held an
earldom which took in all Wessex—that is the old kingdoms of Wessex,
Kent, and Sussex—there is no doubt. He appears as the immediate ruler of
Wessex from the death of Cnut onward, and he is distinctly called
“West-Saxonum dux” (Fl. Wig. 1041; cf. 1009). It might indeed be thought
that his promotion to this greater government did not take place till
after the death of Cnut, when Godwine acted as the minister of the
absent Harthacnut. But it is clear from the Biographer of Eadward (392)
that he was raised to some special rank by Cnut at the time which I have
stated in the text. He attracted Cnut’s notice from the very beginning.
“Ubi ... regnum cessit Cnuto regi vario eventu bellorum, inter novos
adepti regni principes regio adscitos lateri, hic Godwinus ... probatus
est.” This quite falls in with his signature as Earl in 1018. But after
Cnut’s visit to Denmark in 1019, after Godwine’s exploits and his
marriage (see pp. 422–424, and Note DDD), we read, “Quum repatriaret
[Cnutus] in Angliam, feliciter actis omnibus, _totius pene regni_ ab
ipso constituitur _dux et bajulus_.” So in the next page we read,
“Regnante supradicto Cnuto rege, floruit hic in ejus aula primus inter
summos regni proceres; et agente æquitatis ratione, quod scribebat
scriptum, quod delebat omnes censebant delendum. Et in hujus potentatus
solio potenter viguit, donec et hunc regem et ejus totam stirpem Ille
qui regna pro libitu suo transfert succidit.” That is, in plain words,
Cnut on his return to England in 1020 invested Godwine with an office
which made him the first man in the kingdom, and which he kept through
the reigns of Cnut’s sons. It was therefore from Cnut and in 1020 that
Godwine received the office which we find him holding under Harthacnut,
that of “West-Saxonum dux.” The charters tell the same tale. From 1019
onwards (see Cod. Dipl. iv. 9 et seqq.; vi. 179 et seqq.) Godwine always
signs before every other Englishman, while in 1018 (iv. 3) Æthelweard
signed before him. For a while (iv. 9, 14, 17, 29) we find some of
Cnut’s Danish Earls and kinsmen, Thurkill or Eric, signing before him,
but Godwine always signs among them, and gradually, as Cnut’s government
became more and more English, it became the established rule for Godwine
to sign at the head of the laymen. That Godwine then was Earl of the
West-Saxons uninterruptedly from 1020 to 1051 there can I think be no
doubt. Of the nature of the office and the policy of the appointment I
have spoken in the text. It is plain that it was something quite new,
something quite different from the ordinary ealdormanship of a shire in
Kent or elsewhere.
“Bajulus,” the word used by the Biographer here and afterwards in p. 401
to express Godwine’s position, exactly answers to the Eastern _Vizier_,
and the title is specially common in Sicily and the Levant. But the word
is the parent of all the various forms of _bailiff_, _bail_, and such
like. See Ducange in _Bajulus_, and Roquefort, Glossaire de la Langue
Romane, in _Bailleul_.
Thierry has an amusing glimmering of truth when he says (i. 168), “Après
une grande victoire remportée sur les _Norwégiens_, Godwin obtint la
dignité d’_earl_, ou chef politique de l’ancien royaume de West-Sex,
_reduit alors à l’état de province_.” He saw by some happy instinct, for
the Life of Eadward was not then published, that Godwine’s great
promotion followed on his exploits in the North; but he turned Godwine’s
enemies, who are in every account called either Swedes or Wends, into
Norwegians, and he placed the appointment between 1030 and 1035, after
Cnut’s conquest of Norway. Moreover, of all Cnut’s dominions Wessex was
just the part which was the furthest from being reduced to the form of a
province.
NOTE BBB. p. 410.
THE MARRIAGE OF CNUT AND EMMA.
Cnut’s first wife or concubine is incidentally mentioned in the three
principal Chronicles under 1035, in describing the accession of her
supposed son Harold. According to Abingdon and Worcester, “Harold sæde
þæt he Cnutes sunu wære and _þære oðre Ælfgyfe_ [Ælfgyfe þære
Hamtunisca. Wig.], þeh hit na soð nære.” Peterborough has, “Sume men
sædon be Harolde þæt he wære Cnutes sunu cynges and Ælfgive Ælfelmes
dohtor ealdormannes; ac hit þuhte swiðe ungeleaflic manegum mannum.” We
thus learn that “the other Ælfgifu” was daughter of the murdered
Ealdorman Ælfhelm and that she was known as Ælfgifu of Northampton. We
also learn that the alleged parentage of her son Harold was generally
doubted.
Florence (1035) in describing the succession of Swegen in Norway and of
Harold in England, calls their supposed mother “Northamtunensis Alfgiva,
filia videlicet Alfhelmi ducis et nobilis matronæ Wlfrunæ.” He goes on
to mention the popular belief which I have mentioned in the text at p.
411. William of Malmesbury (ii. 188) says, “Haroldus, quem fama filium
Cnutonis ex filia Elfelmi comitis loquebatur.”
There is in all this no hint that Ælfgifu of Northampton was in any
sense Cnut’s wife; but Roger of Wendover, who elsewhere (i. 473) calls
her “Algiva concubina,” says (i. 462), “Anno Domini MXVIII. obiit
Algiva, Elfelmi Comitis filia et uxor regis Cnutonis, ex qua duos habuit
filios, Suanum videlicet et Haroldum, licet alii dicant eos ex
fornicatione generatos.” He then adds, “Misit ergo Cnuto in Normanniam
ad ducem Ricardum propter Emmam sororem suam,” &c. The Chronica Regis
Cnutonis in the Liber de Hyda (267), which is followed by Roger of
Wendover with a good many changes, calls her “Elgiva uxor sua regina,”
and directly after says, “defuncta uxore Cnutonis regis, Elfgiva nomine,
idem rex misit in Normanniam,” as in Roger. Bromton too (906) first
calls her “concubina,” and perverts her name into Ailena; but afterwards
(934) she, for it must be the same, is Cnut’s “prima uxor sive amasia.”
In the Knytlinga Saga (c. 16) Swegen appears as the son of Cnut and
“Alfifa,” as he also does in Snorro (Laing, ii. 344 et seqq.), according
to whom Ælfgifu survived Cnut and governed Norway in the name of her
son. So Saxo (196) calls Swegen “quem ex Alvina sustulerat.” He had
before (192) spoken of her as the mistress, first of Saint Olaf, then of
Cnut. “Eodem tempore Alvvinam ab Olavo adamatam, Canutus eximia matronæ
specie delectatus, stupro petiit.” Olaf is thereby “concubinæ facibus
spoliatus.” As far as one can make anything out of Saxo’s chronology,
this is just after the battle of Assandun.
The Encomiast, in recording Emma’s care, before she marries Cnut, to
secure the succession for her own children, says incidentally (ii. 16),
“dicebatur enim ab alia quadam rex filios habuisse.” Again, in iii. 1,
when recording the accession of Harold, he describes him as “quemdam
Haroldum, quem esse filium æstimatione asseritur cujusdam ejusdem regis
Cnutonis concubinæ; plurimorum vero assertio eumdem Haroldum perhibet
furtim fuisse subreptum parturienti ancillæ, impositum autem cameræ
languentis concubinæ. Quod veracius credi potest.”
Notwithstanding the pious care of Roger of Wendover and the Hyde writer
to marry this Ælfgifu to Cnut, and to kill her off before his marriage
with Emma, there can be no doubt that she was at most a Danish wife
after the manner of Popa and Sprota (see pp. 206, 253), that she was
alive at the time of Emma’s marriage, and that she survived Cnut.
Moreover, if Cnut’s connexion with Ælfgifu began when Saxo says it did,
one at least of her sons must have been born after Emma’s marriage.
Cnut, it is to be supposed, reformed in these matters, as in others. The
Ramsey historian (c. 80; Gale, p. 437) calls him “usus venerei parcus,”
and in his Laws (51–57, Thorpe, i. 404–6) he is strict against all
breaches of chastity.
And now for the marriage with Emma. There is indeed something very
strange about the whole thing. William of Malmesbury (ii. 180) is
uncertain whether Emma or her brother Richard was most disgraced by the
marriage. “Ignores majore illius dedecore qui dederit, an feminæ quæ
consenserit ut thalamo illius caleret qui virum infestaverit, filios
effugaverit.” Not to enter into this delicate question, it is worth
noticing that Cnut was now about twenty-two, while Emma, married in
1002, could not have been under thirty, and considering the ages of her
parents, the daughter of Richard and Gunnor may have been much older.
The Scandinavian writers are not startled at a much greater disparity of
years, as they boldly make Emma the mother of all the children of
Æthelred. (See above, p. 688.) According to the Knytlinga Saga
(Johnstone, 129), Emma was in England at the moment of Æthelred’s death,
upon which she prepared to leave the country, but Cnut persuaded her to
stay and marry him. The war of Cnut and Eadmund is therefore, according
to this view, war between a stepfather and a stepson. I need not go
about to show that Eadmund was not the son of Emma, and it is equally
certain that Cnut did not marry Emma till July 1017, eight months after
the death of Eadmund, and that she was in Normandy at the time of Cnut’s
proposal. But that she was in England at the time of Æthelred’s death
(as is distinctly affirmed by R. Howden, ii. 240), and that Cnut saw her
during the course of the war, is quite possible. See above, p. 700. As
to her coming to England, there is something amusing in the form of
words employed, with some slight variations, by all the English
Chroniclers; “And þa toforan Kal. Augusti het se cyng feccean him þæs
oðres kynges lafe Æðelredes him to wife, Ricardes dohtor.” She signs
Cnut’s charters from this time, beginning in 1018, sometimes as Emma,
but more commonly as Ælfgifu. In Cod. Dipl. iv. 9 she is “Ælfgive thoro
consecrata regio.”
According to William of Malmesbury (ii. 196), Emma not only hated the
memory of Æthelred, which is not very wonderful, but extended her
dislike to her children by him; “hæreditario scilicet odio parentis in
prolem, nam magis Cnutonem et amaverat vivum et laudabat defunctum.”
This account receives a most singular confirmation from the language of
her Encomiast, from which it is plain that she wished her first marriage
to be utterly forgotten. Not a hint is allowed to escape the courtly
panegyrist which might imply that Emma had any earlier connexion with
England, or that she had ever been married to Æthelred or to any other
man. Cnut, after he had established himself in England and had got rid
of Eadric (“omnibus rite dispositis,” ii. 16, cf. c. 15), wanted a wife
worthy to be the partner of his Empire (“ut inventam hanc legaliter
adquireret et adeptam Imperii sui consortem faceret”). He sends and
seeks through many kingdoms and cities, but no help-meet for him is
found (“longe lateque quæsita, vix tandem digna reperitur”). At last the
Imperial bride is found (“inventa est hæc Imperialis sponsa”) in
Normandy; Cnut, we are told, specially preferred the Norman connexion,
because the Normans were a victorious people who had established
themselves in Gaul by force of arms (“pro hoc præcipue quod erat oriunda
ex victrici gente, quæ sibi partem Galliæ vendicaverat invitis
Francigenis et eorum principe”). An opportunity is of course seized on
for a special “encomium” on the lady herself. Deputy-wooers (“proci”)
are sent with gifts and promises; but the prudent Emma, hearing that
Cnut had children by another woman, will have nothing to say to him till
he swears that none but her own children shall succeed him in the
kingdom; “Abnegat illa se umquam Chnutonis sponsam fieri, nisi illi
jusjurando affirmaret, quod numquam _alterius conjugis_ filium post se
regnare faceret nisi ejus, si forte illi Deus ex eo filium dedisset.
Dicebatur enim ab alia quadam rex filios habuisse, unde illa suis
prudenter providens, scivit ipsis sagaci animo profutura præordinare.”
Cnut agrees, and on these terms they marry. But, by a nearly
unparalleled flight of daring (but compare the way in which Matilda is
spoken of. See vol. iii. p. 655), the widow of Æthelred, the mother of
Eadward, Ælfred, and Godgifu, is twice spoken of as a virgin; “Placuit
ergo regi verbum _virginis_, et jusjurando facto _virgini_ placuit
voluntas regis.” Presently (c. 18) we hear of the birth of Harthacnut;
and we are told that Cnut kept Harthacnut with him as the heir of his
throne, while his other lawful sons were sent into Normandy for
education (“alios liberales filios educandos direxerunt Normanniæ, istum
hunc retinentes sibi utpote futurum hæredem regni”). Now we know that
Cnut and Emma had no son except Harthacnut, and by comparing this
passage with a later one (iii. 2) it is plain that the sons spoken of
are Eadward and Ælfred, and that the intention of the writer is to pass
them off as younger sons of Cnut and Emma. A more impudent case of
courtly falsehood can hardly be found; but these daring statements of
her contemporary flatterer show how little Emma loved either her elder
sons or the memory of their father.
NOTE CCC. p. 414.
THE FAMILY OF LEOFWINE OF MERCIA.
Of Leofwine himself, as far as I know, no single political action is
recorded. But the important part played by his son Leofric and his
children naturally awakens a certain interest in the whole family. Our
curiosity as to their earlier history would be amply gratified if we
could put any trust in a document which is printed in the Monasticon,
iii. 192, and which is drawn out in a tabular shape by Sir Francis
Palgrave, English Commonwealth, ii. ccxci. This is a complete pedigree
of the family, which is attached to one of the manuscripts of Florence,
but which its contents show to be not earlier than the reign of John.
According to this document, Leofwine was the son of Leofric, the son of
Ælfgar, the son of Ælfgar, the son of Leofric, who is placed in the days
of Æthelbald of Mercia (716–757; see p. 38). Our Leofwine is made
contemporary with Æthelstan, Eadmund, Eadwig, and Eadgar. Now Agêsilaos
was the son of Archidamos, and Lewis the Twelfth was the son of the Duke
of Orleans who was taken at Azincourt; still it would be amazing if a
man who was not only born, but seemingly an Ealdorman, between 926 and
940 was succeeded by a son who himself lived till 1057, and whose widow,
seemingly much of his own age, survived the Norman Conquest. Leofric
also himself, the famous Earl of the days of Eadward, is made to
flourish and to found monasteries for a space of about eighty-two years.
He is described as “nobilis fundator multorum cœnobiorum, tempore
Edwardi secundi, Ethelredi, Cnutonis, Haroldi, Hardicanuti, et Edwardi
tertii regum Angliæ.” Such a document is self-convicted. It is simply of
a piece with the wonderful stories of Harold and Gyrth surviving to a
præternatural age.
We shall, as usual, come nearer to the truth by turning to the charters.
We find a signature of “Leofwine dux” in 994 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 280), from
which time his signatures, if they are all those of the same person, go
on through the reign of Æthelred and into the reign of Cnut. From one
signature in 997 (Cod. Dipl, iii. 304) he appears to have been Ealdorman
of the Hwiccas (“Wicciarum provinciarum dux”), but as this charter is
signed by two other Leofwines with the rank of thegn, it is of course
possible that one of these may have been the Ealdorman of the days of
Cnut. Considering the rarity of the name Northman, borne by one of
Leofwine’s sons, I should be inclined to look for the father of our
Leofwine in a “Norðman dux” who signs in 994 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 280);
only, if so, the father signs after the son.
Leofwine, as I hold, succeeded Eadric in the head earldom of Mercia in
1017, and he was most likely succeeded by his son Leofric at some time
between 1024 and 1032. The last signature of Leofwine comes between 1021
and 1024 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 29), and he was living and acting in 1023 (see
Cod. Dipl. iv. 26). The first undoubted signature of Leofric as “dux” is
in 1032 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 39). He therefore succeeded his father in some
earldom at some time between those dates, and he was clearly head Earl
of the Mercians in 1035 (see p. 482). The natural inference is that it
was in the head earldom of the Mercians that he succeeded his father,
and therefore that Leofwine, hitherto subordinate Ealdorman of the
Hwiccas, was raised to the chief government of all Mercia when that post
became vacant by the death of Eadric.
Florence, under 1017, in recording the execution of Northman, gives him
the title of “_dux_” and calls him “filius Leofwini _ducis_, frater
scilicet Leofrici _comitis_.” This distinction between “dux” and “comes”
is unusual. I can only guess that it means that Leofwine and Northman
had borne the title of _Ealdorman_ under the old state of things, while
Leofric was only _Eorl_ under the new. And that this is the ground of
the distinction seems the more likely, because, in a case where the
distinction was purely local, where the Chronicles in 991 call Thored
_Eorl_ and Ælfric _Ealdorman_ (see p. 279), Florence puts them together
as _duces_. The Chronicles however do not mention Northman as an
Ealdorman, but rather imply the contrary; “On þisum geare wæs Eadric
ealdorman ofslagen, and Norðman Leofwines sunu ealdormannes.” Florence
goes on to say that Leofric succeeded Northman in his government;
“Leofricum, pro Nortmanno suo germano, rex constituit ducem, et eum
postmodum valde carum habuit.” But I find no certain signature of
Leofric as “dux” till 1032. His signature with that title is indeed put
to the document in Cod. Dipl. iv. 32 which professes to belong to 1026,
but of the doubtful nature of that document I have already spoken (see
above, p. 667). But in 1023 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 27) he signs as “minister” a
grant of Cnut to another man of his own name, Leofric son of Bonda; and
in the last charter signed by Earl Leofwine his son seems to be
pointedly distinguished from him, “Ego Leofwine dux. Ego Leofric.” I
therefore cannot help suspecting that he did not become an Earl till his
father’s death, and that Florence forestalled his appointment by
confounding it with the elevation of his father. If he was appointed to
a subordinate earldom in 1017, it was most likely that of Chester; at
least he figures in later and spurious documents as “Leycestriæ comes.”
Besides Northman and Leofric, Leofwine had a son named Eadwine who died
in the battle of Rhyd-y-Groes (see p. 506), and another son Godwine.
Godwine had a son Æthelwine, who was given, probably as a child, as a
hostage to Cnut, and had his hands cut off (“a Danis obses manibus
truncatus est”) in the mutilation of the hostages in 1014 (see p. 371).
This curious fact we learn from Heming’s Worcester Cartulary, 259, 260.
The relations of Cnut towards this family are singular. The father and
one of his sons are high in his favour. A second son is put to death,
and the son of a third son is cruelly mutilated. The difference is, I
suspect, to be found in the gradual change of Cnut’s own character.
NOTE DDD. p. 415.
THE DEATH OF EADRIC.
The accounts of the death of Eadric form an excellent example of the
growth of a legend. Each writer knows more about it than the one
immediately before him.
The three elder Chronicles, under the year 1017, simply record the
execution of Eadric; “On þisum geare wæs Eadric ealdorman ofslagen.”
The Canterbury Chronicler adds the place, London, and volunteers his own
conviction that the execution was righteous; “Eadric ealdorman wearð
ofslagan on Lundene swyðe rihtlice.”
Florence adds that the execution happened at Christmas, in the palace,
and that the body of Eadric was thrown over the wall of the city, and
left unburied. He also tells us Cnut’s motive, namely fear lest Eadric
should some day betray him, as he had betrayed his former lords Æthelred
and Eadmund.
William of Malmesbury (ii. 181) knows Eadric’s fate after death;
“Putidum spiritum dimisit ad inferos.” He has also more to tell us than
his predecessors about his last sayings and doings in this world. Cnut
and Eadric quarrelled, he does not know about what; but Eadric began to
go through all his services, and to tell, amongst other things, how he
first forsook Eadmund and then slew him for Cnut’s sake. Cnut waxes
wroth, and says that Eadric must die, because he has slain his own lord
and Cnut’s sworn brother. His blood shall be on his own head, because he
has borne witness against himself that he has slain the Lord’s anointed.
For fear of a tumult the King has Eadric at once stifled to death
(“fauces elisus”) in the room where they were, namely Cnut’s own
bed-chamber, and has the body thrown through the window into the Thames.
Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 756 E) makes Eadric come to Cnut directly
after the murder of Eadmund and salute him as sole King. Cnut asks the
meaning of the title, which Eadric explains, saying how he has brought
about Eadmund’s death. Cnut answers that for so great a service he will
set him higher than all the Witan of England. So he cuts off his head,
and sets it on a pole on the highest tower in London.
Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 365) has the same story with a few
verbal changes. He sets the head on the highest _gate_ of London. The
gate and the tower may or may not be the same thing, but we have now
clearly come to the beginning of the practice of exposing heads on
Temple-Bar.
Walter Map (De Nugis, 207), who never names Eadric, tells nearly the
same story of the anonymous servant of Eadmund of whom he has so much to
tell us. After Eadmund’s death at Ross, the servant hastens to Cnut and
tells him that he is now full King instead of half-King (“rex integer
qui semirex heri fuisti”), and begs him to reward the man who had
removed his enemy. Cnut (“licet tristissimus, placido vultu retulit”)
asks who his friend is, as he will set him high above all his comrades
(“faciam eum præcelsum præ consortibus suis”). The servant says it is
himself, on which the King has him hanged on a lofty oak, a kind of
death which looks as if Walter Map did not place the story in London.
Roger of Wendover (i. 460) tells William of Malmesbury’s story, only
adding the subject of dispute between Cnut and Eadric, which William of
Malmesbury could not tell us. Eadric complained of being deprived of his
earldom of Mercia, a singular complaint, as Cnut had only that year
confirmed him in it. He also tells Henry of Huntingdon’s story as an
alternative.
Bromton (X Scriptt. 908) gives both versions with slight improvements on
each. William’s version is enriched by the detail that Eadric’s hands
and feet were tied when he was thrown out of the window. This was the
mode of his death, for in this version we do not hear of his being
stifled. To the other story the only addition is that, when his head was
set on the gate, his body was thrown over the wall.
Lastly, Knighton (X Scriptt. 2318) follows William, but gives us
Eadric’s speech at greater length and tells us that it was made before
dinner. Also we now hear that he was thrown into the Thames from the
window of a high tower; his hands and feet were tied, and he was thrown
out by a machine—a sling or catapult.
These English versions seem to form a series of themselves, and to grow
without foreign help. But in the Encomium Emmæ (ii. 15) we have a
version older than any of these except perhaps that of the Chronicles,
which shows how the intentional or careless perversion of a contemporary
writer may depart as widely from the truth as any feat of the
imagination of legend-makers. The Encomiast, as we have seen (see above,
p. 711), leaves the death of Eadmund shrouded in mystery, and does not
say a word implicating Eadric; he also leaves out Eadric’s appointment
to the earldom of Mercia, because his object is to represent Cnut as
immediately punishing all who had dealt in any way treacherously towards
Eadmund. Eadric is therefore made to demand a reward for his treachery
at Assandun (“Edricus qui a bello fugerat, quum prœmia pro hoc ipso a
rege postularet, acsi hoc pro ejus victoria fecisset”). Cnut says that
he who had been faithless to one lord will not be faithful to another,
and he accordingly bids Earl Eric to cut off his head with his axe.
“Ille vero nil moratus bipennem extulit, eique ictu valido caput
amputavit, ut hoc exemplo discant milites regibus suis esse fideles, non
infideles.”
In the English series the turning-point is when, in the version of
William of Malmesbury, there comes in the first allusion to the
Amalekite who slew Saul. When this parallel was once thought of, the
true date of Eadric’s execution, namely the thirteenth month after
Eadmund’s death, no longer suited the tale; the date of the story was
therefore moved back, and Eadric was made to announce the murder of
Eadmund and to be put to death at once. For the details, the writers at
each stage of course drew on their imaginations.
NOTE EEE. p. 422.
THE EXPLOITS AND MARRIAGE OF GODWINE.
I copy this tale from Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 757 B) in the belief
that, though its details are most likely mythical, Godwine really rose
higher in Cnut’s favour through some conspicuous warlike exploit during
Cnut’s visit to Denmark in 1019. The Biographer of Eadward (392)
distinctly asserts as much, and he makes both Godwine’s marriage with
Gytha and his promotion to the West-Saxon earldom to be the rewards of
the qualities which he showed on this journey. Cnut goes to Denmark to
subdue certain rebels; “absenti enim rebellare paraverant collo effreni
ejus abjicientes potentiam.” This may refer either to disturbances in
Denmark itself, of which we get some slight hints elsewhere (see Note
GGG, and above, p. 669), or to revolts on the parts of subject nations.
Godwine goes with him—“adhæsit comes individuus per omnem viam.” Cnut
remarks Godwine’s great qualities, not only his eloquence (“quam
profundus eloquio”) but his military capacity; “Hic ejus prudentiam, hic
laborum constantiam, hic virtutis militiam, hic attentius expertus est
idem rex tanti principis valentiam.” He feels that such a man will be
most useful to him in the government of his newly won kingdom of
England. He therefore admits him to his most secret counsels and gives
him his sister in marriage (“ponit eum sibi a secretis, dans illi in
conjugem sororem suam”), and on his return to England he gives him the
great promotion of which I have spoken in an earlier Note (see above, p.
731). If then Henry of Huntingdon’s tale of Godwine’s Northern exploit
be historical, it must belong to this year, and it seems quite to fall
in with the brief hints of the Biographer. He places it in the year
1019; “Tertio anno regni sui ivit in Daciam, ducens exercitum Anglorum
et Dacorum in Wandalos.” He then tells the story, and adds, “Quamobrem
summo honore deinceps Anglos habuit nec minori quam Dacos.” William of
Malmesbury, however (ii. 181), transfers the story to the Swedish war of
1025, waged against Ulf and Eglaf. Cnut wins a victory mainly through
the valour of Godwine and the English; “Promptissimis in ea pugna
Anglis, hortante Godwino comite ut, pristinæ gloriæ memores, robur suum
oculis novi domini assererent.” No details are given; but the English by
their valour win fame for themselves and an earldom for their captain;
“Angli ... victoriam consummantes comitatum duci, sibi laudem pararunt.”
Roger of Wendover (i. 466) also transfers the story to the Swedish war.
He tells the tale much as it is told in Henry of Huntingdon, adding,
that Godwine took Ulf and Eglaf prisoners. He says nothing about any
special reward to Godwine, but of the English in general he says, “ob
hanc caussam Cnuto deinceps Anglos summo honore venerans, cum læta
victoria ad Angliam navigavit.” But this version is clearly wrong, for
in the Swedish war of 1025 Cnut was defeated (see p. 454, and Note MMM);
but William of Malmesbury’s statement, that Godwine, already an Earl,
received an earldom as the reward of his conduct in this war, is
evidently the true version of Godwine’s appointment to the West-Saxon
earldom moved to a wrong year.
The Biographer, as we have seen, distinctly makes Godwine’s marriage as
well as his promotion to be part of his reward for his exploits in 1019.
He marries him to a sister of Cnut himself, but most of the other
authorities make Godwine’s wife Gytha to be the sister of Ulf and
daughter of Thorgils Sprakaleg—the same epithet as the Homeric πόδας
ὠκύς. So Florence (1049), Adam of Bremen (ii. 52—“dedit ejus Wolf
sororem copulatam altero duci Guduino”), and Snorro (Laing, ii. 252).
The Knytlinga Saga also (c. 11; Johnstone, 133), as we have seen (see
above, p. 725), marries Godwine to Ulf’s sister, but seemingly at an
earlier time. The words of Saxo (196) are not very clear; “Benevolentiam
enim quam Canutus perfidis Ulvonis meritis denegavit, consanguineæ sibi
prolis respectui tribuendam putavit. Quinetiam sororem Anglorum satrapæ
Godewino nuptiis junxit, gentem genti animis atque affinitate conserere
cupiens.” I used to think that this meant that Cnut gave Godwine Ulf’s
sister, but it now strikes me that it rather means Cnut’s own sister.
The marriage or alleged marriage of Godwine with the sister of Cnut
forms the subject of a legend which is found in more than one English
writer. Its fullest form is to be found in Walter Map (207). In this
version, as soon as Eadmund’s servant (see above, pp. 713, 741) had
announced the murder of his master to Cnut and had received his fitting
reward, Cnut and his Danes are guilty of all kinds of oppressions and
outrages in England. Godwine, having failed to persuade Cnut to act
otherwise, revolts against him (“quod Godwinus Chnuto cum multis
afferens lacrimis, ad nullam exauditus est populi sui liberationem, et
factus est pietate suorum impius et immitis regis Dacorum hostis,
restititque regiæ potestati viriliter, et in plurimis eum ipsi dicunt
prævaluisse congressibus, pacem semper Anglicis et libertatem exorans”).
Cnut, unable to overcome Godwine, makes a feigned reconciliation with
him (“facti sunt amici superficie tenus, et libertas Angliæ restituta”).
Cnut still goes on laying various plots against Godwine, and at last
tells him that he wishes to send him into Denmark to settle things
there. As his credentials, the King will give him a letter to his
sister, who will presently call together the chief men of Denmark to
receive Godwine’s commands. When he is going to sail, his chaplain Brand
(“consilio Brandi capellani sui, quem optimum sciebat in subtilibus
artificem”)—can this be meant for the Brand who was chosen Abbot of
Peterborough late in 1066? (see vol. iii. p. 529; v. p. 224)—counsels
him to open the letter; he does so, and finds that it contains an order
for the Danes to put him to death (“non enim sum ipso superstite rex
unicus Anglorum et Daciæ”). One expression in the alleged letter is
singular (“quod comes Godwinus ... extorsit a me tam dolose quam
violenter Daciæ regimen per triennium”). Godwine of course substitutes a
forged letter, in which he is invested with the regency of Denmark and
is promised the King’s sister in marriage. The description which Godwine
is made to give of himself is strange enough. He is “Eboracensium comes,
dominusque Lincolniæ, Notingam, Leicestriæ, Cestriæ, Huntendunæ,
Northamtunæ, Gloucestriæ, quique nobis diu restitit Herefordiæ.” That is
to say, Godwine is described as Earl of exactly those parts of England
of which he never was Earl; things are turned about in much the same way
as they are turned about by the same writer in his account of the
division of the kingdom between Cnut and Eadmund (see above, p. 706).
Yet the imaginary warfare of Godwine after the death of Eadmund may well
be a confused remembrance of real warfare before the death of Eadmund,
and one would like to know something about the alleged resistance of
Hereford to Cnut, a point on which Walter Map might certainly preserve a
genuine tradition. The story here breaks off; but in the romantic Life
of Harold (Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, 153, 154) the tale goes on to its
natural end. The letter is opened, and another is put in its place, by
which the Danes are ordered to receive Godwine as regent, and to give
him the King’s sister in marriage. All this is accordingly done, and
Cnut then puts the best face upon the matter; he receives Godwine as a
brother and gives him the rank of “consul” or Earl. The same story is
alluded to in the Chronicle of Ralph the Black (160), who in his account
of Godwine (see above, p. 725) tells us how “in Daciam cum breve regis
transmissus callide duxit sororem Cnutonis.” The same story is told by
Saxo (194) of the way in which Ulf obtained his own wife Estrith. We can
further compare the stories of Bellerophontês, Uriah—an analogy which
does not fail to present itself to the mind of Harold’s biographer—the
messenger of Pausanias in Thucydides (i. 132), and the letter given by
King Philip of Swabia to Otto of Wittelsbach, Chronicon Slavorum, vii.
14.
In weighing these counter-statements, there is no doubt that, for
anything personal to Godwine, the Biographer’s authority is the highest
of any. But his authority will hardly bear up against so many opposite
witnesses, especially against the distinct, though implied, statement of
Florence (1049). Earl Swegen is there described as “Godwini comitis et
Gythæ filius,” and directly afterwards we read of “Beorn comes, filius
avunculi sui Danici comitis Ulfi ... ac frater Suani Danorum regis.”
Florence himself indeed goes wrong when in a later passage (1067, and
again in the Genealogia, vol. i. p. 275) he calls Gytha “soror Suani
regis Danorum;” but this is a slip between Swegen Estrithson’s aunt and
his sister, and in no way brings Gytha nearer to Cnut. If Gytha had
really been Cnut’s sister, it is inconceivable that any one would have
turned her, especially in the elaborate and formal way in which it is
done by Florence and Adam, into a sister of Ulf. But a sister of the
King’s brother-in-law might be much more easily mistaken for the King’s
own sister; perhaps she might be laxly called so. But in any case I
accept the statements as to the parentage of Godwine’s wife as
alternative statements, and I do not admit that Godwine married twice.
It seems to me that, when Ulf’s sister had been mistaken for Cnut’s
sister, and when two statements had thus arisen about her, the next
stage was to cut her into two separate women. Thus William of Malmesbury
(ii. 200) marries Godwine, first to a sister of Cnut, who bears one
nameless son, and then to a nameless woman, who was the mother of his
historical children. This is clearly an attempt to reconcile the
statement that Godwine married Cnut’s sister with the fact that
Godwine’s children are never spoken of as in any way of kin to Cnut.
William’s account of Godwine’s first wife is an excellent specimen of
Norman calumny. She gets great wealth by selling English slaves,
especially beautiful girls, into Denmark. Her son, while still a boy, is
drowned in the Thames, being carried into the stream by a horse given
him by his grandfather—Swegen, Wulfnoth, or whom?—and she herself is
killed by lightning for her misdeeds. Mr. Thorpe (Diplomatarium, 312)
seemingly accepts this tale, as he takes the marriage settlement of a
certain Godwine (Cod. Dipl. iv. 10), containing the names of three other
Godwines, all alike unknown, to be a record of the imaginary second
marriage of the great Earl. Bromton (934) and Knighton (2333) tell
William’s story with improvements, making, with a fine perception of
dates and ages, Godwine’s first wife to be a daughter of Cnut by Ælfgifu
of Northampton. See above, p. 734.
I have no doubt that Godwine had but one wife, Gytha, daughter of
Thorgils, sister of Ulf, and aunt of Swegen Estrithson, and that all his
sons and daughters were her children.
NOTE FFF. p. 430.
WYRTGEORN KING OF THE WENDS.
I cannot pretend to any special knowledge of Slavonic history, and I
must confess that I am quite unable to identify this King Wyrtgeorn.
There was however a very eminent Slavonic prince at this time, who was
closely connected with Cnut, and who spent some time with him in
England. I do not know whether the two can anyhow be the same, or
whether there has been any confusion between them.
The person I mean is Godescalc the son of Uto or Pribignew the Obotrite,
a Wendish prince whose exploits will be found recorded in the Chronica
Sclavica, ap. Lindenbrog, capp. 13, 14 (Hamburg, 1706), in Helmold’s
Chronicon Slavorum, i. 19–25 (Frankfurt, 1581), in three notices of
Saxo, pp. 196, 204, 208, and in a variety of passages of Adam of Bremen,
ii. 64, 75; iii. 18, 21, 45, 50, 70. In his youth he was sent as a
student to Lüneburg, but, hearing of his father’s death at the hands of
the neighbouring Saxons, he gave over his studies, renounced his faith,
put himself at the head of his heathen countrymen, and carried on a
fierce war with the Saxons of Holstein and Stormaria. The freemen of
Thetmarsen alone withstood him. He was then brought to a better mind by
a rebuke received from a Christian, which has a somewhat legendary
sound. He was soon afterwards taken prisoner by Bernhard the Second,
Duke of the Saxons (1010–1062), who after a while released him,
seemingly on condition that he should leave the country. He then joined
himself to Cnut, entered his service, seemingly as an officer of the
Housecarls, served in his wars, and, according to the national
Chronicle, was rewarded with the hand of his daughter—no doubt a mistake
for sister—whose name is given as Demmyn. He was in England at the time
of Cnut’s death. According to the Chronicle he then returned to his own
country (“revertens ad patriam post mortem Kanuti,” c. 13), but
according to Adam of Bremen (ii. 75) it was not till early in the reign
of Eadward (“post mortem Chnut regis et filiorum ejus rediens ab
Anglia”). In this case it is not unlikely (see vol. ii. p. 65) that he
was banished from England. According to Saxo (20) he served some time
under Swegen Estrithson in his war with Magnus, and married his natural
daughter Siritha (Sigrid?). The two Swegens are clearly confounded, and
Godescalc is much more likely to have married a daughter of the elder
Swegen. But his main object was to win back his own inheritance, which
after some fighting he regained, and devoted himself to the spread of
Christianity among his countrymen. He not only built and endowed
churches, but became personally a missionary, translating into the
vulgar tongue what the clergy preached in Latin or German. He waged some
wars in concert with Duke Bernhard, and his power seems to have been
sensibly lessened after that prince’s death. At last, in 1066, he
suffered martyrdom at the hands of his heathen subjects, at the
instigation of his brother-in-law Blusso. With him suffered John, Bishop
of Mecklenburg, who was sacrificed to the Slavonic god Radegast, and
others of his companions, both clergy and laity. Godescalc’s wife, the
Danish princess, was sent away naked; several of his sons were killed,
but one, Henry, took refuge with his cousin Swegen in Denmark, and
afterwards avenged his father’s death. On the death of Godescalc, the
whole Wendish country fell back into heathenism.
The account of these things in the honest Nether-Dutch of Botho’s
Picture Chronicle of Brunswick (Leibnitz, iii. 327) is worth reading.
“In dussem sulven jare [1065, but the year of William’s coming to
England] vorhoff sick ein grot mort van den Wenden, Gotschalckus wart
dot geslagen binnen Lentzin, Answerus wart mit sinen moneken geschent
binnen Rosseborge, bischopp Johannes to Mekelenborch de wart mit speten
to hauwen in alle stucke, unde worpen sinen licham upp de strate in de
goten, unde offerden sin hovet örem affgode Ridegaste. Des konighes
dochter to Dennemarcke Gotschalckes wiff, de jageden se ut Mekelenborch
naket mit anderen Cristen fruwen, se fenghen unde slogen de Cristen
alle, unde to bespottinge se de crütze to hauweden, unde vorstorden
gruntliken Hamborch, Sleswick, Mekelenborch unde Oldenborch dat se ane
Bischopp stonden LXXX.”
Godescalc is so interesting a character that we should certainly be well
pleased to connect him with England as closely as we can. But I do not
know how far we are justified in making him the same as the Wyrtgeorn of
Florence. There is also a single charter of 1026 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 33)
which is signed (along with the Earls Godwine, Hakon, Hrani, and
Sihtric) by an Earl Wrytesleof, whose name certainly has a very Slavonic
sound.
NOTE GGG. p. 431.
THE DEATH OF ULF.
Ulf, as we have seen, plays hardly any part in English history; there
seems no doubt that he was put to death by order of Cnut, but the Danish
and Norwegian accounts of his death differ very widely. According to
Snorro’s Saga of Saint Olaf (Laing, ii. 244), Ulf had joined with Emma
in a conspiracy to set Harthacnut on the throne of Denmark, of which
kingdom Ulf had been left in command, as well as in charge of the kingly
bairn. Cnut comes over into Denmark, and Ulf, finding himself forsaken
of all men, asks for grace. This is just at the time of the joint
Swedish and Norwegian invasion which led to the battle of the Helga.
Cnut bids Ulf come with his men and ships, and they will talk of grace
afterwards. Ulf joins the King’s muster and takes a part in the battle.
Soon after, on Saint Michael’s Eve (252), Ulf entertains Cnut at
Roskild. The Earl was in a good humour, and the King in a bad one. They
quarrel over a game of chess, on which Ulf rises to leave the room. Cnut
says, “Run away, Ulf the Fearful.” Ulf turns round and reminds him that
he did not call him Ulf the Fearful when he himself ran away at the
Helga and Ulf saved him. The next morning, as he is dressing, Cnut bids
his page go and kill Ulf. The lad comes back, saying that he has not
killed him because he has gone to the church of Saint Lucius. Cnut then
bids his chamberlain Ivar the White go and kill him in the church, which
was accordingly done, after which Cnut gives great wealth to the church
of Roskild.
Saxo has quite another story. Ulf first (194) obtains Estrith in
marriage by the stratagem which I have already mentioned. He then makes
divers plots, takes refuge in Sweden, exhorts Olaf and Omund to an
invasion of Denmark, and fights on their side at the Helga (195).
Presently, on the birth of her son Swegen, Estrith obtains her husband’s
pardon from her brother (196). Then in a feast at Roskild, seemingly at
Christmas (“annuo feriarum circuitu repetito”), Ulf, being half drunk,
something like Kleitos in the history of Alexander, enlarges on his own
exploits, especially his exploits at the Helga against Cnut. He is
therefore at once put to death, quite justly, according to Saxo’s
declared opinion, though his language is so laboured that one might
fancy that he had some doubts about it. He comments thus (197);
“Igitur Ulvo inter ipsa mensæ sacra ab adstantibus interfici jussus,
præcipitis linguæ justa supplicia pependit. Ita dum aliena facta parum
sobrie meminit, sua cecinit, siccatosque cupide calices proprii
sanguinis liquore complevit. Merito enim ex tam petulanti ingenio
amaritudinem potius quam voluptatem percipere debuit, quod gloriæ sibi
loco arrogasset, ductu suo præcipuis regis viribus ultimam incessisse
jacturam.”
Cnut then gives his sister two provinces as a sort of _wérgild_ for her
husband. She presently gives them, or a tithe of them, to the church of
Roskild; “Quas eadem postmodum sacrosanctæ Trinitatis ædi, præcipua apud
Roskildiam veneratione cultæ, decimarum nomine partiendas curavit.” See
p. 472.
These stories, different as they are, have manifestly some elements in
common. I do not pretend to decide between them. On Ulf’s presence at
the Helga, see Note MMM.
NOTE HHH. p. 434.
THE PILGRIMAGE OF CNUT.
The disputed date of Cnut’s journey to Rome is discussed by Lappenberg
(476, ii. 211 Thorpe). The Chronicles place it in 1031. So does
Florence, who adds that he went from Denmark, and describes his alms and
his redemption of the tolls by which pilgrims were troubled at various
points of the road. He also mentions his vow of amendment before the
tomb of the Apostles, and gives a copy of the letter, which he says was
sent to England by Lyfing, then Abbot of Tavistock, afterwards the
famous Bishop, who had gone with him on his journey. Cnut himself went
from Rome to Denmark, and thence to England. In the heading of the
letter, Cnut describes himself as “Rex totius Angliæ, et Denemarciæ, et
Norreganorum, et partis Suanorum.” The account given by William of
Malmesbury is essentially the same, with some abridgements and verbal
differences. The description of Cnut as King of the Norwegians seems to
point to a time later than his conquest of Norway in 1027. The Encomiast
(ii. 20) enlarges with much rhetoric on Cnut’s piety, and says that he
himself saw him on his journey in the church of Saint Bertin at Saint
Omer’s, where he was much edified by the King’s prayers and almsdeeds.
He gives no date, but he seems to imply (19) that it was after Cnut had
gained a right to be called Emperor of five kingdoms (see Note NNN). But
with so rhetorical a writer, this can hardly be taken as a distinct
chronological statement, and it is certain that the complete submission
of Scotland, which, as well as Norway, is reckoned among the five, did
not happen till after Cnut’s return from Rome (see p. 450). Adam of
Bremen (ii. 60–65) seems to put the pilgrimage in the time of Archbishop
Libentius, that is, between 1029 and 1032; but I am not clear that its
mention at this point is more than incidental, and, at all events, the
chronology is confused, as Adam places the pilgrimage after the marriage
of Henry and Gunhild, which did not take place till after Cnut’s death
(see p. 455, and Note NNN). His description is very odd; “Tempore illo
Conradus Imperator filiam Chnut regis Heinrico filio accepit in
matrimonium. Cum quibus statim regio fastu Italiam ingressus est ad
faciendam regno justitiam, comitem habens itineris Chnut regem, potentia
trium regnorum barbaris gentibus valde terribilem.” Cnut himself, in the
letter, mentions his dealings with the Pope, the Emperor, and King
Rudolf of Burgundy, by which English and Danish travellers, whether
pilgrims or merchants, were released from various tolls and exactions,
and English Archbishops from the great sums that they had to pay for the
pallium. This was at a great meeting at Easter (“quia magna congregatio
nobilium in ipsa paschali solemnitate ibi cum domino papa Johanne et
Imperatore Cuonrado erat”), at which the concessions made to Cnut were
witnessed by four Archbishops, twenty Bishops, and a countless multitude
of Dukes and nobles. This leads us to the account of Wipo (Vita
Chuonradi, 16), from which it appears that this great gathering was for
no less a purpose than the Emperor’s coronation, at which he distinctly
says that Cnut and Rudolf were present. He describes the Emperor’s
election and coronation, and adds, “His ita peractis in duorum regum
præsentia, Ruodolfi regis Burgundiæ et Chnutonis regis Anglorum, divino
officio finito, Imperator duorum regum medius ad cubiculum suum
honorifice ductus est.” But there is no doubt that the coronation of
Conrad happened at the Easter not of 1031, but of 1027.
The Tours Chronicle, in Bouquet, x. 284, places the journey “anno
Conradi II. et Roberti Regis XXX.” The thirtieth year of Robert,
counting from his father’s death in 996, would be 1026 or 1027. The
second year of Conrad means, oddly enough, neither the second year of
his German reign, which would be 1025 (see Wipo, c. 2), nor that of his
Imperial reign, which would be 1028, but the second year of his Italian
reign, which would be 1027, as he was crowned at Milan in 1026. See
Arnulf, Hist. Med. ii. 2, ap. Muratori, iv. 14; Sigonius de Regno
Italiæ, 354; and cf. Wipo, capp. 11, 12. But the Aquitanian William
Godell, who gives the account in nearly the same words as the Tours
Chronicle, places it “anno Domini MXXX. et regni sui [Cnutonis] anno
XV.” They go on to say, “Fortissimus rex Cnuto Romam perrexit, in eoque
itinere tanta munificentia usus est, quanta nullus unquam regum usus
fuisse reminiscitur. Ecclesiis enim, pauperibus et infirmantibus et
carceratis multa largitus est. Vectigalia insuper sive pedagia itinerum,
in ipso itinere aurum et argentum largiendo, vel ex parte minuit, vel ex
toto redemit; ut merito transeuntes deinceps per viam illam in æternum
dicant: Benedictio Domini super regem Anglorum Cnutonem, benediximus
tibi in nomine Domini.”
It seems impossible to withstand this evidence for the year 1027, a year
which the Chronicles leave quite blank, and in which Florence mentions
only Cnut’s intrigues in Norway, which is quite consistent with a
journey from Denmark to Rome. We must therefore accept the date of 1027,
and suppose with Lappenberg that the Chroniclers were misled by
mistaking a date of MXXVI. for MXXXI., and that the titles in Florence
and William of Malmesbury are simply a careless insertion of Florence
himself or of some one from whom he copied the letter.
It is worth noticing that though the kingdom of Burgundy was now in its
last days, Cnut speaks of Rudolf as a prince of importance through his
command of the passes of the Alps; “Rodulphus rex, qui maxime ipsarum
clausurarum dominatur.”
NOTE III. p. 434.
THE LAWS OF CNUT.
Cnut’s code will be found in Thorpe’s Laws and Institutes (i. 358) and
in Schmid’s Gesetze der Angelsachsen (250). The exact date is uncertain.
The heading itself tells us only that the laws were enacted by the
authority of the Witan (“mid his witena geþeahte,” “venerando ejus
sapientum consilio”) in a midwinter Gemót at Winchester. Kemble (ii.
259) refers them to some Gemót between 1016 and 1020. Lappenberg (467,
ii. 202 Thorpe) argues, from the fact that Cnut in the heading calls
himself King of the Norwegians, and also from the mention of Peter’s
pence (c. 9. about “Romfeoh.” Cf. in the letter “denarii quos Romæ ad
sanctum Petrum debemus”), that they must be later than the pilgrimage to
Rome and the conquest of Norway, that is later than 1028. Schmid in his
Preface (lv.), on the ground that Cnut never uses his Danish or
Norwegian titles in his English charters, looks on them as an
interpolation here. The Norwegian title is absent in one manuscript, and
Schmid also quotes a text which contains the words, “And þæt was
gewordon sóna swá Cnut cyngc, mid his witena geþeaht, frið and
freóndscipe betweox Denum and Englum fullice gefæstnode and heora ǽrran
saca getwǽmde.” He therefore holds that the midwinter Gemót spoken of in
the heading was one which immediately followed the Oxford Gemót of 1018
(see p. 419). I follow Lappenberg in placing the laws late in Cnut’s
reign, because they seem to me to breathe the spirit of that part of his
life, the same spirit which we find expressed in the Roman letter. It
strikes me that the scribe quoted by Schmid confounded these laws with
the renewal of Eadgar’s Law, from which they are evidently distinct.
The hunting code to which I have referred in p. 436 seems to me to carry
its own confutation with it. What can be made of such a division of
society as we find there? (Thorpe, i. 426; Schmid, 318). First we hear
(c. 2) of “mediocres homines, quos Angli ‘les þegenes’ (or ‘læs-þegnas,’
see Schmid’s note) nuncupant, Dani vero ‘yoongmen vocant;’” then (c. 3)
of “liberales quos Dani (sic) ‘ealdermen’ appellant;” then (c. 4) of
“minuti homines quos ‘tineman’ Angli dicunt;” lastly (c. 12) of
“liberalis homo, i. e. þegen.” Schmid (lvi.) seems by no means clear of
its genuineness. Kemble however (ii. 80) seems to have no doubt, and he
conjectures that the clause (c. 30) in which the right of every freeman
to hunt on his own ground is asserted as strongly as it is in the
undoubted laws was forced upon Cnut by the Witan. This is going rather
far in the way of conjecture.
After reading Cnut’s laws, and comparing them with the testimonies
already quoted from Florence and William of Malmesbury (see p. 437, cf.
441), the following declamation of John of Wallingford (Gale, 549) seems
strange indeed; “Successitque ei [Eadmundo] ex prædictæ concordiæ
conditione Cnuto Danus et hostis potius Anglorum quam regnator,
immutavitque statim statuta et leges scriptas patriæ, et consuetudines,
et populum, qui sub omni honore et libertate tempore suorum regum
exstiterat, sub gravi jugo coëgit, nihilque de Ælfredi boni regis et
justi, qui ab undique bonas consuetudines collegerat et scripserat,
audire noluit statutis. Sed et omnia quæ vel ipse vel successores
legitime sanxerant, ad suam studuit reducere voluntatem. Sicque factum,
ut prædia et possessiones et antiqua præclarorum virorum tenementa suæ
adscriberet ditioni. Porro quot et quanta sub pallio ejus protectionis
facta fuerint injusta, non est scriptura quæ possit explicare.”
NOTE KKK. p. 444.
THE HOUSECARLS.
There is no distinct mention in the Chronicles of the institution of the
Thingmen or Housecarls, nor does their name occur in any of the English
Laws, but the incidental mention of them by the name of Housecarls, or
by the equivalent name of _Hiredmen_ (_familiares_, members of the
_hired_, court or family), is common in the Chronicles, while grants to
housecarls and signatures of housecarls are common in the Charters, and
they are mentioned several times in Domesday. The subject is discussed
by Lappenberg (467, i. 202 Thorpe), and by Kemble (ii. 118, 124), to
whom I owe the remark that the institution was only a revival of the
_comitatus_. The “Leges Castrenses” or “Witherlags Ret” are described at
length by Saxo (p. 197), and they are drawn out in a tabular form in a
separate work by Swegen Aggesson (ap. Langebek, iii. 141). A Danish text
follows at p. 159. This however dates only from the reign of Cnut the
Sixth, who reigned from 1185 to 1202. In the Chronicle of King Eric
(Langebek, i. 159) they are, by a somewhat grotesque mistake,
attributed, with several other actions of the great Cnut, to his son
Harthacnut. It is not easy to make out from the confused narrative of
Saxo when he conceived the force to have been established. According to
Swegen (146), the laws were enacted in England after the settlement of
the country (“quum in Anglia, omni exercitu suo collecto, Kanutus rex
defessa bellicis operibus membra quietis tranquillitate recrearet”) by
the advice of Opo, a Dane from Zealand, who is also mentioned by Saxo
(197), and his son Eskill. I think that there is little doubt that the
date which I have suggested in the text must be the right one.
Lappenberg also places the enactment of the “Witherlags Ret” early in
Cnut’s reign.
The force was made up of men of all nations. So says Swegen (145);
“Tanti regis exercitus, utpote ex variis collectus nationibus, universis
videlicet regnis ditioni suæ subjugatis.” It is clear then that, among
Cnut’s other subjects, Englishmen might find their way into the force.
So Saxo, 197; “Quos quum rex natione, linguis, ingeniis, quam maxime
dissidentes animadverteret.” Saxo (196) fixes the number at six
thousand; he calls them “clientelam suam sex millium numerum explentem.”
(“Clientela,” as used by Saxo, is a technical word, and quite recalls
the old _comitatus_.) But Swegen (144) reckons them only at three
thousand; “Cujus summa, tria millia militum selectorum explevit. Quam
catervam suo idiomate _thinglith_ nuncupari placuit.” I know of no
statement as to their numbers in later times, but the force was one
which was likely to grow. The “stippendiarii et mercenarii” formed the
core of the English army at Senlac, and we find Earls keeping housecarls
as well as Kings.
That Cnut did lay down strict laws for the government of the force there
is no reason to doubt; but I confess that in the Leges Castrenses, as we
have them, there is much that has a mythical sound. Traitors for
instance (Saxo, 199; Swegen, iii. 162) were expelled and declared to be
“Nithing.” They had the choice of departing by land or by sea. He who
chose the sea was put alone into a boat, with oars, food, &c.; but if
any chance brought him to shore, he was put to death. This sounds to me
very much of a piece with various mythical and romantic tales about
people being exposed in boats, of which that of the Ætheling Eadwine in
the reign of Æthelstan is the most famous (see above, p. 689). Then
again, though no doubt, in Cnut’s army as in other armies, purely
military offences would be judged by purely military tribunals, I
confess to stumbling at one passage in the Witherlags Ret (Swegen, iii.
149), which sets before us the military assembly as judging among its
own members even in causes of real property; “Constitutione etiam
generali cautum est, ut omnis inter commilitones orta controversia de
fundis prædiis, et agris, vel etiam de mansionis deprædatione ... in jam
dicto colloquio agitaretur. Tum vero is, cui commilitonum judicium jus
venditionis adjudicabit, cum sex sortitis in suo cœtu, ... territorii
sui continuatam possessionem sibi vendicare debet, præscriptionemque
lege assignata tuebitur.” If Cnut’s courts martial really exercised this
kind of jurisdiction, it was a clear violation of the constitutional
rights of Ealdormen, Bishops, earls, churls, everybody; still it need
not have interfered with the personal rights of any but members of the
guild. I confess however that I should like some better evidence of the
fact. It is also rather too great a demand on our faith when we are told
that these laws never were broken (save in one famous case) till the
reign of Nicolas of Denmark (1101–1130), and when the authority cited
for the statement is Bo or Boethius the Wend, an old soldier of Cnut who
shared the longevity of the legendary Harold and Gyrth, and was alive in
the time of Nicolas (Swegen, iii. 154, 163). The one offender in earlier
times was Cnut himself, who in a fit of passion killed one of his
comrades. The assembly was perplexed as to the way of dealing with such
a culprit, and the King settled the matter by adjudging himself to a
ninefold _wérgild_. Saxo, pp. 199, 200. So Swegen, somewhat differently,
iii. 151.
There are strict regulations (see Swegen, iii. 147) about the horses of
the Thingmen; but these were of course only horses on which they rode to
battle (see p. 271), not horses to be used in actual fight.