HISTORY OF THE NORMAN CONQUEST.
London
HENRY FROWDE
[Illustration: [Logo]]
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE
AMEN CORNER, E.C.
THE HISTORY
OF THE
NORMAN CONQUEST OF ENGLAND,
ITS CAUSES AND ITS RESULTS.
BY
EDWARD A. FREEMAN, M.A., HON. D.C.L. & LL.D.
LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE,
_Knight Commander of the Greek Order of the Saviour
and of the Servian Order of Tekova,
Corresponding Member of the Imperial Academy of Sciences of Saint
Petersburg,
of the Royal Academy of Lincei of Rome,
of the Royal Society of Sciences of Göttingen,
and of the Historical Society of Massachusetts_.
VOLUME I.
_THE PRELIMINARY HISTORY TO THE ELECTION OF EADWARD THE CONFESSOR._
Αἰνέσωμεν δὴ ἄνδρας ἐνδόξους, καὶ τοὺς πατέρας ἡμῶν τῇ γενέσει....
κυριεύοντες ἐν ταῖς βασιλείαις αὐτῶν.... βουλεύσονται ἐν συνέσει
αὐτῶν.... ἡγούμενοι λαοῦ ἐν διαβουλίοις.—Ecclus. c. xliv.
_THIRD EDITION, REVISED._
=Oxford:=
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS.
M.DCCC.LXXVII.
[_All rights reserved_]
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.
This third English edition of these two volumes has been again
thoroughly revised throughout. I have not however thought it needful to
recast or enlarge the earlier chapters, as I still cling to the hopes
with regard to my first and fifth volumes which I expressed in the
Preface to the fifth volume. But I have added and corrected in detail,
wherever I have found any fresh matter or any fresh light on old
matters. And I found also, in revising what I wrote twelve years back,
that I could improve a good deal in point of mere style. I have often
put a good English word where I had at first allowed a stranger to creep
in. In the first volume I have seen reason to alter my narrative on one
point of some local and personal interest, though not greatly affecting
the general history. I have been convinced by the arguments of Mr. James
Parker that the murder of Sigeferth and Morkere at Oxford has been
confounded with the massacre of Saint Brice, and that some details which
belong to the earlier event have been transferred to the later. In the
Norman chapter in the second volume, I have once or twice worked in, in
the form of new or enlarged local description, the results of later
journeys in Normandy and Maine. And I have also made some improvements
in the maps.
The author of a work on this scale always does wisely in not reviewing
his reviewers, and I shall certainly not spend any great time reviewing
mine. I, and doubtless others, have been amused at many pieces of
criticism, perhaps not the least at the amazement with which some people
have seen Old-English names written in Old-English fashion. As this
seems to be commonly looked on as some special device of my own, we thus
become aware of the singular fact that there are people who think
themselves fit to write about early English history without having
looked at Kemble or Lappenberg. But, without strictly reviewing my
reviewers, I have had some doubts whether I ought not to examine in
detail an article headed “Earl Godwin and Earl Harold,” which appeared
in the North British Review for April 1870, and which bears the
signature of Mr. C. H. Pearson. In earlier revisions I have made a few
references to Mr. Pearson’s views as set forth in his other works, and I
believe that there are one or two to this article itself. But in my
present revision I thought it was better on the whole not to go into any
long controversy—for a long controversy it could hardly fail to be—with
regard to my general views either of Godwine or of his son. When I read
Mr. Pearson’s arguments, I find that his notions of historical evidence,
and his general way of looking at everything, are so different from mine
that it is really better to leave the question to the judgement of the
few scholars who may think it worth while to make a minute comparison
between Mr. Pearson’s statements and my own. I say a minute comparison,
because it would not be safe to accept either my views or the statements
of the original writers on Mr. Pearson’s showing. I must decline to have
my judgement of Godwine measured by the report which Mr. Pearson has
thought fit to give of it. I do not know where Mr. Pearson found that
“Godwin is the spotless being of Mr. Freeman’s imagination, the saint
and hero of an impure and unheroic age.” He certainly did not find that
picture any where in the History of the Norman Conquest, least of all
where my notions of Godwine are most formally put forth, namely in the
seventh chapter, the first in the second volume. I must further protest
against Mr. Pearson’s statement that I “believe in” a “settlement of the
Witan in 1051” in favour of William. Of this belief no trace will be
found in my writings; indeed it is expressly denied at p. 430 of my
second volume (p. 421 of the first edition). Nor do I admit that I have
“started from the conception that history for eight hundred years has
been in a conspiracy against truth.” I simply go back from legend to
history, from the slanders of later times to the witness of the men who
eight hundred years back wrote real history. Mr. Pearson goes on to say
that “my style throughout is that of a pleader who tries to demolish the
character of witnesses by detecting them in trivial inconsistencies, and
who delights in accumulating the absurd stories of late and obscure
chroniclers in order to throw doubts on a general verdict.” I can only
infer that Mr. Pearson is not a student of comparative mythology. I can
only infer that he does not see the importance of tracing how a story
grew, and what shapes it took in different hands, according to times,
places, and changes of feeling. When Mr. Pearson utterly misunderstands
my plainest words, when I can find no common ground with him from which
to examine historical evidence, I must leave it to others to judge
between him and me on the general question.
At the same time, in case any one should make it his business to compare
Mr. Pearson and me in detail, I must ask him to accept nothing on Mr.
Pearson’s showing—as I ask no one to accept anything on my
showing—without minutely testing it by the authorities. I think that any
one who does so will not fail to see how much of Mr. Pearson’s
genealogical argument is upset by his constant confusion between
Wulfnoth the son of Godwine and Æthelnoth the thegn of Kent. Even a
Domesday copyist, in his wildest departures from the true forms of
English names, would not write _Alnod_ and _Ulnod_ indiscriminately. I
have gone thoroughly into this matter in Appendix N., vol. iv, where I
see that I have referred to an earlier work of Mr. Pearson’s. So again,
when Mr. Pearson rakes up the real or supposed evil deeds (among which
he seems to reckon the marriages) of several English Bishops of the
eleventh century, he makes his list longer by bringing in a tale, true
or false, about Walter of Hereford, who was not an Englishman. And I
must lastly beg that no one will accept Mr. Pearson’s summary of any
part of the _Encomium Emmæ_, without reading every word of the
Encomiast’s text for himself.
As Mr. Pearson is an historical writer of some reputation, I have
thought it right not to let his distinctly controversial article pass by
altogether unnoticed. I do not know that there is any other writer of
position with whom I need to enter into any controversy. If I were to
examine any anonymous criticism, it would be an article signed “H. A.”
in the North American Review, in which I am blamed for maintaining the
innocence of Godwine, though his guilt is asserted in “the Saxon
Chronicle.” It would almost seem as if “H. A.” had written this without
either looking at the Chronicles themselves or at the examination of
their witness in my Appendix. Indeed it would seem that, even in such
respectable quarters as the North American Review, the idea still
lingers that there is a single book called “The Saxon Chronicle.” I need
hardly say that strange havoc would be made of the history, as strange
havoc often has been made, by any one who did not stop to compare the
wide difference in statement and feeling between Abingdon and
Peterborough.
The Index to the whole five volumes, which will include the index to the
present edition of these two, is in preparation.
SOMERLEAZE, WELLS,
_April 14th, 1877_.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
In revising these volumes for the present edition, I have made many
improvements for which I feel that I must in some sort throw myself on
the indulgence of the buyers and readers of the first edition. The
publication of a large work of this kind in distinct volumes is, I
believe, on the whole, the most satisfactory way for the reader, as it
certainly is for the author. But it has its disadvantages. If no part of
a work is printed till the last page of the last volume is written, a
final revision may give the earlier parts the advantage of the author’s
researches up to the last moment. But if volumes are published
separately, the researches which are needful for the composition of the
later volumes continually bring to light matter which would have been
highly useful during the composition of the earlier volumes. This is
especially the case with a subject like mine, where information has to
be sought for in so many quarters, and where a great deal of information
is drawn from purely incidental notices in quarters where it might
hardly have been looked for. Take for instance one of our primary
authorities for a great part of my subject, the Norman Survey. None but
a professed editor or commentator on Domesday would sit down to read it
through, word for word; but, in searching in it for facts bearing on one
subject, one is sure to light by the way on facts bearing on
half-a-dozen other subjects as well. In these ways I have, in the course
of writing the later parts of my work, come across much matter which
enables me to correct and improve what I had already written in the
earlier parts. All these improvements in detail I have thought it right
to make in preparing a second edition. And I have also in many places
improved the arrangement of the matter, by throwing some portions of the
text and a considerable portion of the notes into the form of
Appendices. These portions were chiefly passages which consisted of
dissertation rather than narrative, and which therefore seemed better
suited to the form of detached essays. This change will, I hope, be
found to make the narrative hang better together; but, as the passages
removed to the Appendix have shown a tendency to grow on the road, it
has somewhat increased the size of the volumes.
I have also done my best to improve the maps. I have added a map of Gaul
in the tenth century, which seemed needful for the better understanding
of the fourth Chapter. I have also recast the map of Britain in 597,
which, as it stood in the first edition, was a failure, owing to the
attempt, which can never be thoroughly successful, to represent the
state of things at two different periods at once. As it is, it is
designed to show, as far as evidence or probable conjecture makes it
possible to show, how things stood at the exact time of the mission of
Augustine. In this difficult task I have been much helped by Archdeacon
Jones, my former colleague in writing the History of Saint David’s, by
Mr. J. R. Green, and yet more by Mr. Haddan, whose knowledge of Celtic
matters is really amazing. But, after all, there are many points on
which it is impossible to get beyond conjecture.
As the changes in the text and notes have disturbed the order of paging,
I have added a special Index to this edition of these two volumes. When
the whole work is complete, a general Index to the whole five volumes
will be given.
It will be at once seen that these improvements are in some sort made at
the cost of the purchasers of the first edition, for it is impossible
for them to be thrown into the form of a separate supplement for their
benefit. I can only ask again for their indulgence towards a course
which could not be helped, if the book was to be brought as near
perfection as might be.
The revision required by these volumes has unavoidably delayed the
composition of the fourth volume; but I am happy to say that it is
begun.
SOMERLEAZE, WELLS,
_November 26th, 1869_.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
The present volume is the first instalment of a work which I have
contemplated, and for which I have at various times collected materials,
for the last twenty years. I had hoped to complete the work, or so much
of it as would come down to the actual accession of William the
Conqueror, in time for it to appear during the year 1866, the
octocentenary year of the Conquest. I found however that, to make the
main subject really intelligible from my point of view, it was necessary
to treat the preliminary history at much greater length than I had
originally thought of. The present volume therefore is merely
introductory to the account of the actual Conquest. The second portion
of the narrative, containing the reigns of Eadward, Harold, and William,
is already in progress, and will follow with all possible speed.
I think it right to add that this work must not be taken as a sign that
I have at all given up the design of going on with my History of Federal
Government. Of the second volume of that work a considerable part is
already written. One or two circumstances led me to lay it aside for a
time, and I do not at all regret that such has been the case. The part
on which I was engaged was the history of the German Confederation, and
I find that, of what I have written, part has already become antiquated
through the events of the past year. When Germany shall have assumed a
shape possessing some greater chance of permanence than her present
clearly transitional state, I shall be better able to take a general
view of German Federal history from the beginning. The peculiarity of
the German Confederation is that it is the one recorded Confederation
which arose from the separation of the component parts of a Kingdom.
There now seems every chance of its changing back again into something
more like its original state. The condition of the Hanseatic towns also,
another part of my subject, is already greatly modified by the same
events. It is even possible that they may not be without effect on the
European position of Switzerland. On the whole, I believe that the delay
in my work will only lead to its improvement, and that a volume on Swiss
Federalism, and on German Federalism generally, will be far more
valuable two or three years hence than it would have been if I had been
able to complete it in the year before last.
With regard to my present work, my main object is to draw out that view
of the Norman Conquest which I believe to be the one true one. That
view, I may say, is formed by uniting the views of the two most eminent
writers who have dealt with the subject, Augustine Thierry and Sir
Francis Palgrave. The name of the last-mentioned illustrious scholar can
never be uttered by any student of early English history without a
feeling of deep gratitude. But his great and unfinished works set forth
only half the truth. His eloquent French rival sets forth the other
half. Each of these great writers must stand charged with considerable
exaggeration on his own side of the question. Still, in the main, I
think we may say that each is right in what he asserts and wrong only in
what he leaves out of sight. From one point of view, the Norman Conquest
was nearly all that Thierry says that it was; from another point of
view, it was hardly more than Sir Francis Palgrave says that it was.
Both writers also singularly resemble each other in a certain lack of
critical power. Nothing in any period of history, above all, nothing in
the period of history with which I am concerned, is more necessary than
to distinguish the respective value of different authorities. Now in
this respect both Thierry and Sir Francis Palgrave were deficient.
Neither, I believe, ever made a statement for which he could not give
chapter and verse in some shape or other. But both of them were too apt
to catch at any statement which seemed at all to support their several
theories, without always stopping to reflect whether such statements
came from contemporary chronicles or charters or from careless and
ill-informed compilers three or four centuries later.
The prominence which I have given to the preliminary history contained
in this volume is due to a deep and growing conviction that the history
of the Norman Conquest, and indeed all later English history also, is
constantly misunderstood through a fatal habit of beginning the study of
English history with the Norman Conquest itself. A confused and unhappy
nomenclature hinders many people from realizing that Englishmen before
1066 were the same people as Englishmen after 1066. They thus fail to
perceive that the Norman Conquest, instead of wiping out the race, the
laws, or the language which existed before it, did but communicate to us
a certain foreign infusion in all three branches, which was speedily
absorbed and assimilated into the preexisting mass. We cannot understand
the Norman Conquest of England without knowing something of the history
both of Englishmen and of Normans before they met in arms on the hills
of Sussex. As regards the Normans, the conquest of England was but the
most brilliant and the most permanent of a series of brilliant
conquests, from the occupation of Rouen to the occupation of Naples. As
regards England, the Conquest was the grand and final result of causes
which had been at work at least ever since the death of Eadgar. The
Danish invasions, and the Norman tendencies of Eadward, each, in
different ways, both suggested the enterprise of William and made that
enterprise easier to be effected. I therefore look on the earlier
history of Normandy, and still more on the English history from the
accession of Æthelred to the death of Harthacnut, as so closely
connected with my subject as to need a treatment in considerable detail.
With the reign of Eadward the period of the Conquest itself begins. And
I may add that I have done my best to throw some life into a period of
our history which is full alike of political instruction and of living
personal interest. That period is commonly presented to ordinary readers
in the guise either of fantastic legends or else of summaries of the
most repulsive dryness. I have striven to show what was the real
political state of England in the tenth and eleventh centuries. I have
striven also to clothe with flesh and blood the dry bones of men like
Brihtnoth and Ulfcytel and Eadmund and our illustrious Danish conqueror
himself.
As in my History of Federal Government I ventured to restore the Greek
spelling of proper names, so I now follow the example of scholars like
Kemble, Lappenberg, and others, in employing the genuine spelling of
Old-English names. As they are generally spelled, they are a mere chaos
of French and Latin corruptions, following no principle of any kind.
_Æðelstán_ becomes “Athelsta_ne_,” while _Æðelred_, exactly the same
form, becomes “_E_thelred.” I do not however follow Mr. Kemble in
retaining the obsolete letter _ð_. It seems to me as much out of place
to write _Æðelðryð_ in the midst of a modern English sentence, as it
would be to write _Αθênê_ or _Θeopompos_. At one time I felt inclined to
except those names which are still in familiar use, like _Alfred_ and
_Edward_, on the same principle on which I write _Philip_ and not
_Philippos_. Were the English names, like the Greek, simply cut short at
the end, there would be no difficulty in so doing. But it would be
unpleasantly inconsistent to write _Ælfric_ and _Alfred_, _Eadwig_ and
_Edward_. I therefore make a chronological distinction; by the time of
our post-Norman Edwards, the _a_ had been dropped in contemporary
spelling, and I write accordingly. The names of Normans and other
foreigners, William, John, and the like, I give in their modern shape.
Nothing could be gained by writing _Willelm_, _Willaume_, or
_Guillaume_, all of them mere corruptions just as much as the modern
English form. Names of places again I write with their usual modern
spelling, because in them we have, what in the names of men we have not,
an universally received and, allowing for some misconceptions, fairly
consistent system. I except only one or two places, like Brunanburh,
Ethandun, Assandun, of which the geographical position is more or less
uncertain, and whose fame is wholly confined to the time of which I am
writing.
I have given two maps, chiefly founded on those in Spruner’s Hand-Atlas.
As in the maps which accompanied my History of Federal Government, any
attempts to mark the boundaries of states whose boundaries were always
fluctuating must always be more or less conjectural, and my conjectures,
or those of Dr. Spruner, may not be the same as the conjectures of all
my readers. All such attempts must be taken at what they are worth and
no more. For one such conjecture I am specially responsible. In the map
of Britain in 597 I have attempted, by means of cross-colouring, to mark
the extent of territory north of the Thames and Avon which was
West-Saxon in 597, but which I believe to have become Mercian in 628. In
so doing I have followed the indications given by Dr. Guest in his
papers and local maps; but I believe that mine is the first attempt to
show the results of his researches on the general map of Britain. In
this map my object was to mark all ascertained places mentioned in the
Chronicles, with the addition of a few from Bæda, up to the time of
Ecgberht. In the later map of the English Empire my principle was to
mark those places which were mentioned in my own history from the time
of Ecgberht to the Norman Conquest.
I have now only to return my thanks to those friends who have helped me
in my undertaking in various ways, by comments and suggestions, by the
loan of books, and in a few cases, though very few, by verifying
references to books which I had not at hand. At their head I am proud to
place the two men who stand at the head of living students of English
history, Dr. Guest and Professor Stubbs. I have also to thank Viscount
Strangford for several valuable suggestions as to the early Celtic
ethnology of Britain. My thanks are due also for help of different kinds
to the Rev. S. W. Wayte, now President of Trinity College, to the Rev.
John Earle, late Professor of Anglo-Saxon, to the Rev. J. E. B. Mayor,
of St. John’s College, Cambridge, to F. H. Dickinson, Esq., of Trinity
College, Cambridge, to the Rev. J. R. Green, of Jesus College, a rising
scholar to whom I look for the continuation of my own work, and to W. B.
Dawkins, Esq., of Jesus College and of the Geological Survey. Mr.
Dawkins I have especially to thank for much help in my investigations of
the battle-fields of Maldon and Assandun, and I look to him for more
valuable help still when I come to the greater battle which forms the
centre of my whole history. And I must add my thanks for the kindness of
every sort which I have uniformly received from the Delegates of the
University Press, from one especially whose loss all historical students
are now lamenting, my late learned and deeply esteemed friend Dr.
Shirley.
SOMERLEAZE, WELLS,
_January 4th, 1867_.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
A. D. PAGE
The Norman Conquest important, not as the beginning
of English history, but as its chief turning-point 1
Necessity of the earlier English history to its right
understanding 2
Its character as compared with earlier and later
conquests 3
Nature of the changes effected by it 4–5
Divisions of the work 5–7
CHAPTER II.
FORMATION OF THE KINGDOM OF ENGLAND. 449–975.
§ 1. _The Heathen Period of English Conquest._ 449–597.
The languages, races, and local names of Britain
essentially the same now as at the time of the
Norman Conquest 8
The Norman element absorbed in the existing English
nation 9
The English Conquest; credibility of the narrative 9
Question of earlier Teutonic settlements 10–12
Analogy of the Danish invasions 12
Course of the English Conquest to the end of the
sixth century 13–15
Difference between the English Conquest and other
Teutonic conquests 15–18
Extermination of the Celtic inhabitants 18
Causes and results of the difference 19–21
Britain at the end of the sixth century; occupation
of the country by various Low-Dutch tribes 21–23
No regular Heptarchy, but seven Kingdoms prominent
among others 23–24
Growth of Wessex 24–25
Peculiar character of Mercia 26–27
Supremacy of the Bretwaldas 28
§ 2. _Conversion of the English to Christianity._ 597–681.
Peaceful progress of Christianity in England 29
Effects of the conversion; increased intercourse with
the Continent 30–31
England the first national Church in the West 31–32
Cessation of wars of extermination 33
Advance of Wessex; Celtic element in the Western
shires 33–35
§ 3. _Fluctuations of Dominion between Northumberland, Mercia, and
Wessex._ 577–823.
617–633 Rivalry of Mercia and Northumberland; reign of
Eadwine 35–36
627–655 Reign of Penda of Mercia 36–37
635–685 Greatness of Northumberland under Oswald and his
successors 37
716–819 Renewed greatness of Mercia; reign of Offa 37–38
Influence of Charles the Great in English affairs 38–39
802 Accession of Ecgberht of Wessex 39
§ 4. _Permanent supremacy of Wessex._ 823–924.
802–837 Gradual submission of the other English Kingdoms to
Ecgberht 40–41
815–837 His successes over the Welsh; independence of the
Northern Celts 41–42
789–1070 Danish Invasions 43
Three Periods of the Danish Invasions 43–45
837–901 Reigns of Æthelwulf and his sons 45–46
867–877 Danish Conquest of Northumberland, East-Anglia, and
part of Mercia 46
871–880 Election of Ælfred; Danish Invasions of Wessex 46–47
878–890 Peace of Wedmore and establishment of Guthrum in
East-Anglia 47–48
Character and extent of the Danish occupation; its
effect on local nomenclature 48
Character of Ælfred 49–53
Consolidation of England promoted by the Danish Wars 53–55
893–901 Later wars and death of Ælfred 55–56
901–925 Reign of Eadward the Elder; his Kingdom reaches the
Humber 56–58
924 Commendation of Northumberland, Scotland, and
Strathclyde 58–60
§ 5. _Imperial Supremacy of the West-Saxon Kings of the English._
924–975.
925–940 Reign of Æthelstan; Northumberland first incorporated 60
937 Battle of Brunanburh 61
940–955 Reigns of Eadmund and Eadred; final incorporation of
Northumberland 62
945 Grant of Cumberland to Malcolm of Scotland 63
955 Reign of Eadwig in Wessex and Eadgar in Mercia 63
Character of Dunstan 63–64
958–975 Sole reign of Eadgar; his supremacy over all Britain 64–66
975–1016 Reigns of Eadward and Æthelred 66–67
Recapitulation 67–68
CHAPTER III.
THE CONSTITUTION OF ENGLAND IN THE TENTH AND ELEVENTH CENTURIES.
The Old-English Constitution survived the Norman
Conquest 69–71
§ 1. _Origin of the Old-English Kingship._
Summary of the growth of Wessex 72
The germs of our institutions to be traced to the
earliest times 72–74
Analogy with other Teutonic and other Aryan nations 74
Origin of Kingship; earlier government by Ealdormen
or Heretogan 74–76
Difference between Ealdormen and Kings 76–78
Title of King 78
Kingship national and not territorial 78–79
Growth of kingly power through extension of territory 79–80
§ 2. _The Early Teutonic Constitution and its Decay._
The _Teutonic Free Community_; analogies elsewhere 80–81
_Eorls_ and _Ceorls_ 82–84
The _Mark_; _Folkland_; the _Eðel_ 84–85
Origin and nature of the _Comitatus_ or _Thegnhood_;
Homeric and other analogies 85–89
The _Thegns_ supplant the old _Eorls_ 89
Effects of the change; Commendation; depression of
the Ceorls 90–91
Growth of feudal principles 91–93
Earlier form of military service 93–94
_Folkland_ and _Bookland_ 94–96
Comparison between England, Germany, and Switzerland 96–97
Changes in the ancient Constitution; their necessity 97
Ceorldom sinks into Villainage, but the Villains are
gradually emancipated 97
Amalgamation of Marks into Shires and of Shires into
Kingdoms 98–100
§ 3. _Origin and Powers of the Witenagemót._
Democratic constitution of the old Assemblies of the
Mark and the Shire 100–102
The Assembly of the Kingdom inevitably shrinks up
into an Assembly of the King’s Thegns 102–103
The _Witenagemót_ of Wessex becomes the General
Legislature, the Gemóts of other Kingdoms surviving
as local bodies 104
Powers of the Gemót greater than those of a modern
Parliament 105–106
Right of deposing the King 106–107
Right of electing the King; combination of the
hereditary and elective principles 107–110
Direct action of the Witan in all matters 110–112
Joint action of the King and the Witan 112–113
Loss and recovery of Parliamentary freedom after the
Conquest 113–114
Importance of the personal character of the King 114–115
His influence as Executive and as _Hlaford_ of the
chief men 116–117
§ 4. _The Imperial Power of the King and his Relation to the Dependent
Kingdoms._
954 England one Kingdom, but much local independence
retained 117
Statement of the question as to the superiority of
the West-Saxon Kings over all Britain 118
924 Superiority over Scotland dates from the Commendation
to Eadward 118–119
922 Final Commendation of the Welsh 119
Nature of Commendation; analogous instances 119–121
924–1291 Claims of the two Edwards; change of ideas meanwhile 122
Threefold relation of the King of Scots to the
English Crown 122–123
Geography and relations of Scotland, Lothian, and
Strathclyde 123–124
History of Cumberland 124–126
History of Lothian; it becomes the historical
Scotland 126–129
Analogy between Scotland and Switzerland 129–130
922–1283 History of Wales 130–131
Position of the dependent Kingdoms 131–133
Statement of the case as to the Imperial Titles 133–134
The Titles used in the Charters imply an Imperial
position 134–136
No continuous tradition from the Provincial Emperors 136–137
286–407 Real position of the “Tyrants” 137–139
No analogy between them and the Bretwaldas 139–140
The Imperial style adopted through a feeling that the
position of the West-Saxon Kings was analogous to
that of the Emperors 140–143
Position of Ecgberht, of Æthelstan, of Eadgar 140–141
The Imperial titles go out of use after the Norman
Conquest 143–144
Late instances of their use 144–145
827–1869 Growth of the English system of dependencies 145–146
The Kingdom of England and Empire of Britain
transferred to William 146–147
CHAPTER IV.
SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF NORMANDY DURING THE TENTH CENTURY.
Original kindred of Englishmen, Danes, and Normans 148–149
Danes in England become Englishmen, in Gaul,
Frenchmen 149–151
§ 1. _General Effects of the Scandinavian Settlements in Gaul._
Analogy between the settlements of Rolf and Guthrum 151
Results of the Norman settlement on general history;
character of the Normans 151–154
Effects on French history; position of Gaul; struggle
between Paris and Laon decided by the Normans 154–155
Origin of Modern France 155–156
888 Division of the Empire; Eastern and Western Franks 156
830–888 Growing importance of Paris; Odo the first Parisian
King 156–159
§ 2. _Settlement and Reign of Rolf._ 911–927.
The Danish ravages within the Empire compared with
those in England 159–163
Various Danish settlements in Gaul; exceptional
importance of that at Rouen 163–164
876–911? Character of Rolf; his earlier exploits 164–166
911 Rolf in possession of Rouen; his defeat at Chartres 166
912 Peace of Clair-on-Epte; analogy with that of Wedmore 166–167
The Kingdom strengthened by the cession 167–168
Rolf’s homage to Charles; extent of his grant 168–170
Internal condition of Normandy; probable position of
the two races; vestiges of the Danish language 171–173
Normandy not an absolute Monarchy 173–174
922–927 Rolf supports the Karlings against Robert and Rudolf 174–176
927? 932? Abdication and death of Rolf 176
924 His acquisition of the Bessin; its importance 176–179
§ 3. _Reign of William Longsword._ 927–943.
Religion of Rolf; birth and education of his son
William 179–181
931 Breton revolt 182–183
Relations between Æthelstan and the Continent; Alan
of Britanny takes refuge in England 183–186
936 Alan restored; the Côtentin and the Channel Islands
become Norman; their subsequent history 186–189
932 Danish and Christian parties; revolt and submission
of the Danish party 189–190
William’s position between the two; Danish education
of his son Richard 190–192
Part played by William in French history; condition
of Gaul 192–196
926–933 William’s fidelity to Charles the Simple; he does
homage to Rudolf after his death 196–197
936 Election of Lewis; influence of Æthelstan 198–200
Reign and character of Lewis; true character of the
later Karlings 200–201
939–940 Affairs of Montreuil and Lotharingia; intervention of
Æthelstan and Otto 201–205
942–943 Council of Attigny; murder of William Longsword 205–206
§ 4. _Reign of Richard the Fearless._ 943–996.
943 Accession of Richard; his minority and doubtful
legitimacy 206–208
942–973 Events of the year 943; influence of Germany in
French affairs 208–210
943 New Danish settlement; apostasy of Richard; the
Christians seek French help 210–211
Lewis defeats the Danes and recovers Richard 212
Norman version 213–214
944–945 Lewis in Normandy; his defeat and capture by Harold
Blaatand 214–219
945–946 Lewis imprisoned by Hugh; intervention of Eadmund and
Otto; release of Lewis and renewal of his Kingship 219–221
Commendation of Richard to Hugh of Paris 221–222
The alliance between Normandy and Paris determines
the fall of the Karlings 223
946 War of the three Kings against the two Dukes; defeat
of Otto before Rouen 224–226
947–954 Series of Synods; progress and death of Lewis 227–230
954–986 Reign of Lothar; the old generation dies off 230–231
956–960 Relations between Hugh Capet and Richard 232
962 Theobald of Chartres; his enmity towards Richard 233–234
Second intervention of Harold? 234–235
Policy of Hugh Capet; general peace between Ducal and
Royal France 236
973–980 Changed relations between France and Germany on the
death of Otto the Great 236–238
986–991 Reign of Lewis the Fifth; his death; election of Hugh
Capet; permanence of his dynasty; position of
Rheims as crowning-place 239–240
987–991 Robert associated with his father in the Kingdom;
struggle with Charles of Lotharingia 240–241
Permanent establishment of the Parisian dynasty;
effects of the change 241–242
Lotharingia finally becomes German under Carolingian
Dukes 242–243
§ 5. _Comparison between France, England, and Normandy._
Influence of the Normans on the Capetian revolution;
their settlement made Gaul French 243–245
Relations between Normandy and France fixed by the
Capetian Revolution 245–246
Contrast between England and France 247–249
Position of the later Karlings; power of the Crown
not immediately increased by the change of dynasty 249–251
Growth of the doctrine of nobility 252–253
996 Last days and death of Richard 254–255
§ 6. _Early Years of Richard the Good._ 996–997.
Aristocratic feelings of Richard 255–256
997 Revolt of the Peasants; their political organization;
the revolt crushed by Rudolf of Ivry 256–258
CHAPTER V.
THE DANISH CONQUEST OF ENGLAND. 975–1016.
Character and reign of Æthelred 260–263
§ 1. _Reign of Eadward the Martyr._ 975–979.
975 Death of Eadgar; reaction against the monks 263–264
Disputed election to the Crown; election of Eadward;
banishment of Oslac of Northumberland 264–266
§ 2. _From the election of Æthelred to the first dispute with
Normandy._ 979–1000.
979 Murder of Eadward; election of Æthelred 266
979–988 Death of Dunstan; various internal events 267–268
980–982 Beginning of Danish inroads; characters of Swegen and
Olaf 268–270
988–993 Beginning of Danish attempts at settlement 268
991 Norwegian invasion; battle of Maldon and death of
Brihtnoth 270–276
The Danes first bought off; Ealdorman Ælfric 277–279
992 Naval victory of the English; treason of Ælfric 279–280
Greatness of London 280–283
993 Ravages in the North; treason of Godwine and others 283–284
988–991 Affairs of Wales 284–285
991 Dispute between Æthelred and Richard appeased by Pope
John the Fifteenth; increasing connexion between
England and Normandy 285–287
§ 3. _From the first dispute with Normandy to the Massacre of Saint
Brice._ 991–1002.
994 Great combined expedition of Olaf and Swegen; attack
on London defeated by the citizens; Æthelred buys
peace 287–289
994–1000 Peace with Olaf; his later days 289–291
994–1003 Inaction of Swegen 291
995 Meetings of the Witenagemót; Ælfric elected
Archbishop; Translation of the Bernician Bishopric
to Durham 291–294
996–998 Gemóts of Cealcyth, Calne, and London; legislation 294–295
997–999 Renewed ravages and inefficient resistance 295–297
Causes of inefficient resistance 297–299
1000 Character of Æthelred; he ravages Cumberland 299–301
Second quarrel with Normandy; alleged English
invasion of the Côtentin 301–303
1002 Marriage of Æthelred and Emma; its results 303–307
1000 Expected end of the world; condition of Europe and
Asia 307–308
1001 Invasion of Sussex; treason of Pallig; defence of
Exeter; Battle of Pinhoe 308–312
1001–1002 Meetings of the Witan; fresh payments to the Danes 312–315
1002 Massacre of the Danes; its probable extent 315–316
Burning of Saint Frithswyth’s church at Oxford;
murder of Gunhild 316
§ 4. _From the Massacre of Saint Brice to Swegen’s Conquest of
England._ 1002–1013.
1003 Results of the Massacre; invasion by Swegen in
person; Exeter betrayed by Hugh the Frenchman 317–318
Renewed treason of Ælfric; Swegen sacks Salisbury 318–321
1004 Exploits of Ulfcytel of East-Anglia; Swegen burns
Norwich and Thetford; his drawn battle with
Ulfcytel 322–325
1005 Year of respite and famine 325
1006 Rise and character of Eadric; murder of Ælfhelm 326–328
Malcolm of Scotland besieges Durham; the city
delivered by Uhtred 328–330
1006 Great devastation of the Danes in Wessex 330–332
1007 Witenagemót of Shrewsbury; tribute paid again 333
1007–1008 Two years’ respite; Eadric Ealdorman of the Mercians 333–334
1008–1009 Legislation; decree for the formation of a fleet 334–339
The fleet raised by assessments; origin of ship-money 339–341
1009 Alleged Embassy to Normandy; Richard’s treaty with
Swegen 341–343
The fleet assembled at Sandwich; quarrel of Wulfnoth
and Brihtric; dispersion of the fleet 343–344
1009–1010 Invasion of Thurkill; vain attack on London; Oxford
burned 344–346
1010 Last year of resistance; Ulfcytel’s battle at
Ringmere; hopeless state of the country 346–350
1011 Peace again purchased; Eadric invades Wales 350–352
Siege and capture of Canterbury; captivity of Ælfheah 352–354
1012 Martyrdom of Ælfheah 354–355
Money paid to the Danes; Thurkill joins the English 355–356
1013 Swegen’s last invasion; the North submits 356–358
He ravages Mercia and is repulsed from London 358–360
The West-Saxons submit; Swegen acknowledged King;
London submits 360–361
1013–1014 Æthelred and his family take refuge in Normandy 361–362
§ 5. _From the Conquest of England by Swegen to the Death of Æthelred._
1013–1016.
Importance of Swegen’s Conquest as preparatory to
William’s 362–364
1014 Death of Swegen 365–366
Double election to the Crown; the Danes choose Cnut;
the English Witan vote the restoration of Æthelred 367–368
Return and legislation of Æthelred 368–370
Æthelred drives out Cnut; position of Thurkill 370–371
1015 Witenagemót of Oxford; murder of Sigeferth and
Morkere 371–374
The Ætheling Eadmund marries Ealdgyth and establishes
himself in the Five Boroughs 374
Cnut returns; he ravages Wessex and is joined by
Eadric; Wessex submits to Cnut 375–377
1016 Cnut and Eadric invade Mercia; Eadmund and Uhtred in
the North; submission and murder of Uhtred 377–379
Cnut sails towards London 380
Death of Æthelred 380
§ 6. _The War of Cnut and Eadmund._ 1016.
Double election of Cnut and Eadmund; short and
glorious reign of Eadmund 380–383
Eadmund acknowledged in Wessex; Cnut’s fresh siege of
London 383–384
Battle of Pen Selwood; victory of Eadmund 384–385
Battle of Sherstone; victory doubtful 385–387
Cnut renews the siege of London; Eadric joins Eadmund 387
Battles of London and Brentford; third siege of
London 387–388
Cnut ravages Mercia; battle of Otford 388–389
Battle of Assandun; treason of Eadric; final victory
of Cnut 389–394
Conference of Olney and division of the Kingdom 395–398
Death and burial of Eadmund 398–400
CHAPTER VI.
THE DANISH KINGS IN ENGLAND. 1017–1042.
Character of the Reigns of Cnut and his Sons 401–404
§ 1. _The Reign of Cnut in England._ 1017–1035.
1016–1017 Witenagemót of London; Cnut chosen King 405
Outlawry of the two Eadwigs; fate of the Ætheling 406
Fourfold division of England; Cnut’s preference for
Wessex 406–407
First appearance of Earl Godwine; his first Earldom 408–410
1017 Cnut marries Ælfgifu-Emma; his relations with Ælfgifu
of Northampton and her sons 410–412
Banishments and executions 412–415
Execution and character of Eadric 415–418
Leofwine succeeds Eadric in Mercia 418
1018 Danegeld paid; Cnut sends home most of his ships 418–419
Witenagemót of Oxford; renewal of Eadgar’s Law 419–422
1019 Cnut visits Denmark 422
Exploits of Godwine; his marriage with Gytha 422–424
1020 Cnut returns to England; Witenagemót at Cirencester;
banishment of Æthelweard 424–425
Godwine Earl of the West-Saxons 425–426
Consecration of the church on Assandun; import of the
ceremony 426–428
Later policy of Cnut; Danes make way for Englishmen 428
1021 Banishment of Thurkill 428–429
1023 Thurkill viceroy of Denmark 429
1023–1030 Banishment of Eric; banishment and death of Hakon 429–430
1025 Ulf put to death 431
Character and position of Cnut 432–434
1027 His letter from Rome 434
1028–1035 His Laws 434–436
Personal traditions of Cnut; his ecclesiastical
foundations 437–443
§ 2. _The Foreign Relations of Cnut._ 1018–1035.
Unparalleled peace of Cnut’s reign 443–444
The Housecarls; Cnut’s military legislation 444–446
Cnut’s foreign policy; affairs of Wales 446–447
Affairs of Northumberland and Scotland; succession of
the Northumbrian Earls 448
1018 Malcolm defeats Eadwulf at Carham 448–449
1028? Affairs of Cumberland; submission of Duncan 449–450
1031 Submission of Scotland; homage of three Kings 450–451
1015 Cnut’s northern wars; loss of Norway 452–453
1015–1028 Reign of Saint Olaf in Norway 453–454
1025 Cnut’s defeat at the Helga 454
1028 Cnut chosen King of all Norway 454
Cnut’s friendly relations with the Empire; he
recovers the frontier of the Eider 455–456
996–1031 Affairs of Normandy; friendly relations between
Normandy and France 456–458
Affairs of Britanny and Chartres 458–460
1013? Story of Olaf and Lacman 460–463
Foreign expeditions and conquests of the Normans 463–464
1024 Burgundian War 464
1018 Norman exploits in Spain 464–465
1016–1090 Conquest of Apulia and Sicily; its bearing on that of
England 465–467
1026 Unbroken peace between Richard and Cnut; death of
Richard 467
1026–1028 Reign of Richard the Third 468
1028–1031 Accession of Robert; he restores various expelled
princes 468–470
1026 Relations between Cnut and Robert; marriage of Robert
and Estrith 471–473
1028–1035 Robert’s intervention on behalf of the Æthelings; his
attempted invasion of England 473–477
1035 Pilgrimage of Robert; death of Robert and Cnut 477–479
§ 3. _The Reign of Harold the son of Cnut._ 1035–1040.
Extent and partition of Cnut’s Empire 479–481
1036 Swegen expelled from Norway 481
1035–1036 Candidature of Harold and Harthacnut; Witenagemót at
Oxford; division of the Kingdom 481–488
1035–1037 Emma and Godwine Regents for Harthacnut in Wessex 488–489
1036 Attempt of the Ætheling Ælfred; conflicting versions
of the story 489–493
Estimate of the evidence; real position of Ælfred;
real question as to the conduct of Godwine 493–497
Inconsistency of the ordinary story 497–498
Evidence and suspicion against Godwine; his probable
innocence 498–501
Dissatisfaction in Wessex at the absence of
Harthacnut 501–502
1037 Harthacnut deposed and Harold chosen King over all
England 503
He banishes Emma 503
His reign and character 504–506
1039 Welsh inroad and death of Eadwine 506
1040 Duncan besieges Durham and is defeated by the
citizens 507–508
1039 Preparations of Harthacnut 508
1040 Death of Harold 509
§ 4. _The Reign of Harthacnut._ 1040–1042.
1040 Election of Harthacnut; his landing and coronation 509–511
His character; he lays on a Danegeld and digs up
Harold’s body 511–513
1040–1041 His second Danegeld 513
Accusation, trial, and acquittal of Godwine 514–517
1041 The Danegeld levied by the Housecarls; tumult at
Worcester 517–520
Worcester burned and the shire ravaged 521–522
Harthacnut recalls Eadward 522–524
Succession of the Northumbrian Earls; Ealdred,
Eadwulf, Siward; Siward murders Eadwulf by the
connivance of Harthacnut and obtains the whole
Earldom 524–527
Harthacnut sells the See of Durham to Eadred 527
1042 War with Magnus; defeat of Swegen Estrithson 528
Death of Harthacnut; marriage of Tofig and Gytha;
first foundation of Waltham 528–530
Election of Eadward 530
Summary 530–532
APPENDIX.
NOTE A. The use of the word “English” 533
B. The Bretwaldadom and the Imperial Titles 548
C. The Early Relations between England and the Continent 565
D. The Relations of Charles the Great with Mercia and
Northumberland 569
E. The Changes in Nomenclature produced by the Danish
Settlement 570
F. Æthelred and Æthelflæd of Mercia 573
G. The Commendation of 924 575
H. The Grant of Cumberland 580
I. The Cession of Lothian 582
K. Ealdormen and Kings 589
L. Origin of the word _King_ 593
M. King of England or King of the English? 594
N. Commendation 597
O. Growth of the Thegnhood 599
P. Grants of Folkland 600
Q. The Constitution of the Witenagemót 601
R. The Right of the Witan to depose the King 604
S. The Election of Kings 608
T. Names of Kingdoms and Nations 609
V. Notices of Language in the Tenth Century 617
W. The Vassalage of Normandy 620
X. Danish Marriages 624
Y. The Election of Lewis 626
Z. The Death of William Longsword 628
AA. Leading Men in England at the Death of Eadgar 633
BB. The Election of Eadward the Martyr 638
CC. The two Ælfrics 639
DD. The Treaty with Olaf and Justin 641
EE. The Relations of Æthelred with Normandy 642
FF. Æthelred’s Invasion of Cumberland 646
GG. The Massacre of Saint Brice 648
HH. Ulfcytel of East-Anglia 653
II. The Rise of Eadric 654
KK. The Succession of the Northumbrian Earls 659
LL. The Assessment of 1008 661
MM. Wulfnoth of Sussex 663
NN. Thurkill the Dane 666
OO. Wulfric Spot 671
PP. The Taking of Canterbury and the Martyrdom of Ælfheah 673
QQ. The Kingship and Death of Swegen 678
RR. The Sermon of Wulfstan or Lupus 683
SS. The Children of Æthelred 685
TT. The Elections of Cnut and Eadmund 689
VV. The War of Cnut and Eadmund 694
WW. The Conference of Cnut and Eadmund 705
XX. The Death of Eadmund 711
YY. The two Eadwigs 717
ZZ. The Origin of Earl Godwine 719
AAA. The West-Saxon Earldom 731
BBB. The Marriage of Cnut and Emma 733
CCC. The Family of Leofwine of Mercia 737
DDD. The Death of Eadric 740
EEE. The Exploits and Marriage of Godwine 743
FFF. Wyrtgeorn King of the Wends 747
GGG. The Death of Ulf 749
HHH. The Pilgrimage of Cnut 751
III. The Laws of Cnut 753
KKK. The Housecarls 755
LLL. Cnut’s Relations with Scotland 759
MMM. The Battle at the Helga 765
NNN. Cnut’s Relations with the Empire 766
OOO. Ælfred the Giant 770
PPP. Cnut’s Relations with Normandy 771
QQQ. The Division of Cnut’s Dominions 774
RRR. The Candidature of Harold and Harthacnut 775
SSS. The Death of the Ætheling Ælfred 779
TTT. The Burial of Harold the First 787
VVV. The Trial and Acquittal of Godwine 789
WWW. The Origin of Earl Siward 791
XXX. Tofig the Proud 792
YYY. Events after the Death of Harthacnut 794
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
[Sidenote: Importance of the Norman Conquest, not as the beginning of
English history, but as its chief turning-point.]
The Norman Conquest is the great turning-point in the history of the
English nation. Since the first settlement of the English in Britain,
the introduction of Christianity is the only event which can compare
with it in importance. And there is this wide difference between the
two. The introduction of Christianity was an event which could hardly
fail to happen sooner or later; in accepting the Gospel, the English
only followed the same law which, sooner or later, affected all the
Teutonic nations. But the Norman Conquest is something which stands
without a parallel in any other Teutonic land. If that Conquest be only
looked on in its true light, it is impossible to exaggerate its
importance. And yet there is no event whose true nature has been more
commonly and more utterly mistaken. No event is less fitted to be taken,
as it so often has been taken, for the beginning of our national
history. For its whole importance is not the importance which belongs to
a beginning, but the importance which belongs to a turning-point. The
Norman Conquest brought with it a most extensive foreign infusion, an
infusion which affected our blood, our language, our laws, our arts;
still it was only an infusion; the older and stronger elements still
survived, and in the long run they again made good their supremacy. So
far from being the beginning of our national history, the Norman
Conquest was the temporary overthrow of our national being. But it was
only a temporary overthrow. To a superficial observer the English people
might seem for a while to be wiped out of the roll-call of the nations,
or to exist only as the bondmen of foreign rulers in their own land. But
in a few generations we led captive our conquerors; England was England
once again, and the descendants of the Norman invaders were found to be
among the truest of Englishmen. England may be as justly proud of
rearing such step-children as Simon of Montfort and Edward the First as
of being the natural mother of Ælfred and of Harold. In no part of
history [Sidenote: Importance of the earlier English history to the
right understanding of the Conquest.] can any event be truly understood
without reference to the events which went before it and which prepared
the way for it. But in no case is such reference more needful than in
dealing with an event like that with which we are now concerned. The
whole importance of the Norman Conquest consists in the effect which it
had on an existing nation, humbled indeed, but neither wiped out nor
utterly enslaved, in the changes which it wrought in an existing
constitution, which was by degrees greatly modified, but which was never
either wholly abolished or wholly trampled under foot. William, King of
the English, claimed to reign as the lawful successor of the Kings of
the English who reigned before him. He claimed to inherit their rights,
and he professed to govern according to their laws. His position
therefore, and the whole nature of the great revolution which he
wrought, are utterly unintelligible without a full understanding of the
state of things which he found existing. Even when one nation actually
displaces another, some knowledge of the condition of the displaced
nation is necessary to understand the position of the displacing nation.
The English Conquest of Britain cannot be thoroughly understood without
some knowledge of the earlier history of the Celt and the Roman. But
when there is no displacement of a nation, when there is not even the
utter overthrow of a constitution, when there are only changes, however
many and important, wrought in an existing system, a knowledge of the
earlier state of things is an absolutely essential part of any knowledge
of the later. The Norman Conquest of England is simply an insoluble
puzzle without a clear notion of the condition of England and the
English people at the time when the Conqueror and his followers first
set foot upon our shores.
[Sidenote: Character of the Norman Conquest as compared with earlier and
later conquests.]
The Norman Conquest again is an event which stands by itself in the
history of Europe. It took place at a transitional period in the world’s
developement. Those elements, Roman and Teutonic, Imperial and
ecclesiastical, which stood, as it were, side by side in the system of
the early middle age, were then being fused together into the later
system of feudal, papal, crusading Europe. The Conquest itself was one
of the most important steps in the change. A kingdom which had hitherto
been purely Teutonic was brought within the sphere of the laws, the
manners, the speech, of the Romance nations. At the very moment when
Pope and Cæsar held each other in the death-grasp, a Church which had
hitherto maintained a kind of insular and barbaric independence was
brought into a far more intimate connexion with the Roman See. And as a
conquest, compared with earlier and with later conquests, the Norman
Conquest of England holds a middle position between the two classes, and
shares somewhat of the nature of both. It was something less than such
conquests as form the main subject of history during the great Wandering
of the Nations. It was something more than those political conquests
which fill up too large a space in the history of modern times. It was
much less than a [Sidenote: The immediate change effected by the Norman
Conquest less than the change effected by the Barbarian conquests.]
national migration; it was much more than a mere change of frontier or
of dynasty. It was not such a change as when the first English
conquerors slew, expelled, or enslaved the whole nation of the
vanquished Britons. It was not even such a change as when Goths or
Burgundians sat down as a ruling people, keeping their own language and
their own law, and leaving the language and law of Rome to the
vanquished Romans. But it was a far greater change than commonly follows
on the transfer of a province from one sovereign to another, or even on
the forcible acquisition of a crown by an alien dynasty. The conquest of
England by William wrought less immediate change than the conquest of
Africa by Genseric; it wrought a greater immediate change than the
conquest of Sicily by Charles of Anjou. [Sidenote: In what the change
really consisted.] It brought with it not only a new dynasty, but a new
nobility; it did not expel or transplant the English nation or any part
of it; but it gradually deprived the leading men and families of England
of their lands and offices, and thrust them down into a secondary
position under alien intruders. It did not at once sweep away the old
laws and liberties of the land; but it at once changed the manner and
spirit of their administration, and it opened the way for endless later
changes in the laws themselves. It did not abolish the English language;
but it brought in a new language by its side, a language which for a
while supplanted it as the language of polite intercourse, and which did
not yield to the reviving elder speech till it had affected it by the
largest infusion that the vocabulary of one [Sidenote: Formal
legislative changes for the most part of a later date.] European tongue
ever received from another. The most important of the formal changes in
legislation, in language, in the system of government and in the tenure
of land, were no immediate consequences of the Conquest, no direct
innovations of the reign of William. They were the gradual developements
of later times, of times when the Norman as well as the Englishman found
himself under the yoke of a foreign master. But the reign of William
paved the way for all the later changes that were to come, and the
immediate changes which [Sidenote: Immediate results of the Conquest
mainly practical.] he himself wrought were, after all, great and
weighty. They were in truth none the less great and weighty because they
affected the practical condition of the people far more than they
affected its written laws and institutions. When a nation is driven to
receive a foreigner as its King, when that foreign King divides the
highest offices and the greatest estates of the land among his foreign
followers, though such a change must be carefully distinguished from
changes in the written law, still the change is, for the time,
practically the greatest which a nation and its leaders can undergo.
[Sidenote: Plan and extent of the present History.]
I propose then, as a necessary introduction to my narrative of the
actual Conquest, to sketch the condition of England and of Normandy at
the time when the two nations came into contact with each other. This
process will involve a summary of the earlier history of both [Sidenote:
Narrative of the actual Conquest and its immediate causes. 1042–1087.]
countries. From the beginning of the eleventh century the history of
England and of Normandy becomes more and more intermixed, and it will be
necessary to tell the story more and more in detail. The period of the
actual Conquest and its immediate causes, the reigns of Eadward, of
Harold, and of William, will form the centre of the work. The reigns of
William’s sons will show the character of the Norman government in
England, and the amount of immediate change which it really [Sidenote:
Accession of the Angevin dynasty. 1154.] brought with it. With the
accession of the Angevin dynasty the purely Norman period comes to an
end. A King succeeds who is in one sense both Norman and English, in
another sense neither Norman nor English. Presently Norman and
Englishman alike have to struggle for their own against the perpetual
intrusion of fresh shoals of foreigners seeking their fortunes at the
expense of both. The natural effect of this struggle was that Norman and
Englishman forgot their differences, and [Sidenote: Reign of Henry the
Second. 1154–1189.] united in resistance to the common enemy. Under
Henry the Second the struggle is for a while delayed, or veils itself
under an ecclesiastical form. A prelate of English birth but of the
purest Norman descent, wins the love of the English people in a struggle
in which nothing but an unerring instinct could have shown them that
their interest was in any way involved. [Sidenote: Degradation of
England under Richard the First. 1189–1199.] Under Richard, the most
thoroughly foreign of all our Kings, the evil reaches its height, and
England might pass for a dependency of the Count of Poitiers. As is
usual in cases of national discontent, it is not till the worst day is
passed that the counter-revolution openly [Sidenote: National struggle
against foreigners. 1214–1272.] begins. Under John and his son Henry,
the history of England becomes mainly the history of a struggle between
the natives of the land, of whatever race, and the foreign favourites of
the court. Norman and Englishman are [Sidenote: 1265.] now reconciled;
and by their joint work the Old-English liberties are won back in
another form, and the modern [Sidenote: End of the work under Edward the
First. 1272–1307.] constitution of England begins. At last England,
having already won over her baronage, at last wins over her King. The
work of reconciliation is completed under the best and greatest of our
later Kings, the first who, since the Norman entered our land, either
bore a purely English name or followed a purely English policy. Under
the great Edward England finally assumed those constitutional forms
which, with mere changes of detail, she has preserved uninterrupted ever
since. The work of the Conquest is now over; the two races are united
under a legislation whose outward form and language was in a great
measure French, but whose real life was drawn from the truest English
sources. Here then our narrative, even as the merest sketch, comes to
its natural close. But for a long time before this point, a mere sketch,
pointing out the working of earlier events in their results, will be all
that will be needed. The kernel of my narrative will consist of the
history of the five and forty years from the election of Eadward to the
death of William. The history of these years will fill my three central
volumes, containing the history of the actual Conquest and its immediate
causes. This central portion will be introduced, as is essential to its
understanding, by a sketch of the events which led to it, gradually
developing in minuteness from the beginning of the English Conquest to
the extinction of the Danish dynasty in England. And it will be wound up
with what is no less essential, with a sketch of the history gradually
lessening in minuteness down to the reign of Edward the First, and
discussing the permanent results of the Conquest on the laws, the
language, the arts, and the social condition of England.
CHAPTER II.
THE FORMATION OF THE KINGDOM OF ENGLAND.
449–975.
§ 1. _The Heathen period of English Conquest._ 449–597.
[Sidenote: The races and languages of Britain essentially the same at
the time of the Norman Conquest as they are now.]
The Norman invaders in the eleventh century found in the Isle of
Britain, as any modern invader would find now, three nations, speaking
three languages; and they found then, as would be found now, one of the
three holding a distinct superiority over the whole land. Then as now,
English, Welsh, and Gaelic were the three distinct tongues of the three
races of the island; then as now, the dominant Teuton knew himself by no
name but that of Englishman, and was known to his Celtic neighbour by no
name but that of Saxon. The boundaries of the two races and of their
languages were already fixed, nearly as they remain at present. The
English tongue has made some advances since the eleventh century; but
they are small compared with the advances which it had made between
[Sidenote: Preservation of local names and divisions in England.] the
fifth century and the eleventh. The main divisions of the country, the
local names of the vast mass of its towns and villages, were fixed when
the Norman came, and they have survived, with but little change, to our
own day. While a map of France or Germany in the eleventh century is
useless for modern purposes, and looks like the picture of another
region, a map of England proper in the reign of Victoria hardly differs
at all from a map of England proper in the reign of William. The Norman
found in the land substantially the same English nation which still
exists, occupying substantially the same territory which it occupies at
present. He found it already exhibiting, in its laws, its language, its
national character, the most essential [Sidenote: The Norman element
absorbed in the English nation then and now existing.] of the features
which it still retains. Into the English nation which he thus found
already formed his own dynasty and his own followers were gradually
absorbed. The conquered did not become Normans; but the conquerors did
become Englishmen. It was by a very different process that the English
themselves had made good their footing in the land in which the Norman
found them, and to which they had long before given their name.
[Sidenote: The ENGLISH CONQUEST OF BRITAIN. A.D. 449–924.]
The details of the English Conquest of Britain, and the exact amount of
historical truth to be found in them, are questions which hardly concern
us here. It will be enough to point out the essential difference between
the traditional narrative of the English Conquest, as contained in the
English Chronicles,[1] and the romantic narrative of which Geoffrey of
Monmouth is the chief [Sidenote: General credibility of the traditional
narrative.] spokesman. The narrative in the Chronicles is perfectly
credible in itself, and perfectly consistent with all the undoubted
phænomena of later history. It is also perfectly consistent with the
record of all those living witnesses whose testimony may be mistaken,
but which themselves cannot lie. Such are the evidence of language and
local nomenclature, the evidence of the surviving antiquities, the
camps, the dykes, the barrows, which chronicle this warfare as well as
the warfare of earlier and of later times. The only question is whether
an accurate narrative of details can have been handed on from the date
assigned to Hengest to the ascertained date of Bæda, whether by oral
tradition, by runes, or by written documents which are lost to us. And
this really amounts to little more than a question whether, in the
earliest part of the narrative, the exact names and the exact dates can
always be trusted. Some of the earlier names may be mythical;[2] some of
the dates may have been reached by ingenious calculation rather than by
genuine tradition. But granting all this, the main substance of the
narrative remains essentially where it was.
Much learning and ingenuity has been spent, and, I venture to think, in
many cases wasted, in attempts to show the untrustworthiness of the
traditional account, by [Sidenote: Questions of earlier Teutonic
invasions and settlements in Britain.] bringing forward proofs of
Teutonic invasions, and even of Teutonic settlements, of an earlier date
than that assigned by the Chronicles to the beginning of the English
Conquest.[3] The facts which are brought forward are in most cases
probable and in some cases certain, but I cannot look on them as having
that bearing on later history which they have sometimes been supposed to
have. It is possible that, among the tribes which Cæsar found in
Britain, some, especially in the eastern districts of the island, may
have been of Teutonic origin, or in some degree mingled with Teutonic
elements. It is certain that in Britain, as everywhere else, Teutonic
soldiers largely served in the Roman armies, and that settlements of
such soldiers sometimes grew into permanent colonies.[4] It is certain
that, long before the days of Cerdic or Hengest, Theodosius and Stilicho
repelled Teutonic invasions; and it is probable that, by repelling such
invasions, they hindered the formation of Teutonic settlements in
Britain at that earlier [Sidenote: The course of the English Conquest
not affected by them.] time.[5] But these facts or probabilities do not
affect the credibility of the recorded course of the English Conquest,
or of the tradition which fixes its real beginning in the middle of the
fifth century. Teutonic settlements before the Roman invasion, or under
the Roman domination, would be something quite different from the
Teutonic invasions recorded from the fifth century onwards. Teutonic
tribes subdued by the Roman arms, Teutonic soldiers planted as colonists
by the Roman government, would sink into the general mass of Roman
subjects; they would retain no strong national feeling; they would most
likely not even retain their national language. The only way in which
they could possibly influence the later history would be by making the
establishment of the later Teutonic settlers a less difficult matter in
those parts of the country which they occupied than in those where the
population was purely Celtic or Roman.[6] We may admit the fact that the
Teutonic, and even the distinctively Saxon, invasions began, not in the
fifth century, but in [Sidenote: Light thrown on these events by the
analogy of the Danish invasions.] the fourth. But the true bearing of
this fact will be best understood by comparing the successive Saxon
invasions with the later and better known invasions of the Danes both in
England and in Gaul. In the Danish invasions I shall presently endeavour
to establish three periods, one of mere plunder, one of settlement, one
of political conquest. For the last of these three there was no
opportunity under the circumstances of the earlier Teutonic invaders,
but for the first two stages we may fairly look in the history of the
English, as well as in that of the Danish, Conquest. The Saxon pirates
against whom the Roman government found it needful to establish so
elaborate a system of defence, find their parallels in those Danish
plundering expeditions which ravaged various parts of England in the
latter half of the eighth century and the former half of the ninth, and
in the ravages inflicted on Gaul by chieftains earlier than Hasting. The
Anglian, Saxon, and Jutish settlements of the fifth and sixth centuries
answer to the [Sidenote: 878.] settlements of Guthrum in East-Anglia in
the ninth [Sidenote: 912.] century and of Rolf in Neustria in the tenth.
Even if it be held that the Saxons who were driven back by Theodosius
and Stilicho designed settlement and not merely plunder, still, as they
did not actually settle, the case remains much the same. The Teutons
were baffled in their attempts at settlement in the fourth century; they
succeeded in their attempts at settlement in the fifth. The general
history of the Conquest, as handed down to us in the Chronicles, is
therefore in no way affected by the certain fact of earlier incursions,
by the possible fact of much earlier settlements. The really lasting
effect of the Saxon invasions of the fourth century seems to have been
this; the Saxon name became familiar to the Celtic inhabitants of
Britain earlier than the Anglian name; consequently Saxon, and not Angle
or English, has been the name by which the Teutonic immigrants in
Britain have been known to their Celtic neighbours from that day to
this.[7]
[Sidenote: Course of the English Conquest.]
What then the English Chronicles profess to record is, not these early
and transient incursions which led to no permanent result, but that
series of constant, systematic, successful attempts at settlement on the
part of various Teutonic tribes which constituted the English Conquest
of [Sidenote: 418.] Britain. Early in the fifth century the Roman
legions were withdrawn from the island, and the former provincials were
left to defend their new and precarious independence [Sidenote: No
improbability in the story of Vortigern’s invitation, but the tale not
essential.] how they might. The Southern Britons were now exposed to the
attacks of the Picts and Scots who had never submitted to the Roman
yoke, and there is no absurdity in the familiar story that a British
prince took Teutonic mercenaries into his pay, and that these dangerous
allies took advantage of the weakness of their hosts to establish
themselves as permanent possessors of part of the island. But if this
account be rejected, the general narrative of the Conquest is in no way
affected; and, if it be accepted, we may be sure that Vortigern’s
imitation of many Roman precedents did but hasten the progress of
events. The attempts which had been checked while the Roman power was
flourishing were sure to be renewed when the check was withdrawn, and if
a Welsh King did invite a Jutish chieftain to defend him, that
invitation was only the occasion, and not the cause, of the Conquest
which now [Sidenote: 449–597.] began. We cannot seriously doubt that, in
the course of the fifth and sixth centuries, a succession of tribes of
kindred origin, all of them of the same Low-Dutch[8] stock, and speaking
essentially the same Low-Dutch language, landed at various points of the
British coast, that they gradually forced their way inland, and founded
permanent [Sidenote: Extent of the English dominion and of the
independent British states at the end of the sixth century.] Teutonic
kingdoms. Before the end of the sixth century the Teutonic dominion
stretched from the German Ocean to the Severn, and from the English
Channel to the Firth of Forth. The northern part of the island was still
held by Picts and Scots, Celtic tribes whose exact ethnical relation to
each other hardly concerns us.[9] And the whole west side of the island,
including not only modern Wales, but the great kingdom of Strathclyde,
stretching from Dumbarton to Chester, and the great peninsula containing
Cornwall, Devon, and part of Somerset, was still in the hands of
independent Britons. The struggle had been long and hard, and the
natives often kept their hold of a defensible district long after the
surrounding country had been occupied by the invaders. It is therefore
probable that, at the end of the sixth century and even later, there may
have been within the English frontier inaccessible points where detached
bodies of Welshmen still retained a precarious independence. It is
probable also that, within the same frontier, there still were Roman
towns, tributary to the conquerors rather than occupied by them.[10] But
by the end of the sixth century even these exceptions must [Sidenote:
The English Conquest, as a whole, accomplished by 597.] have been few.
The work of the Conquest, as a whole, was accomplished. The Teutonic
settlers had occupied by far the greater part of the territory which
they ever were, in the strictest sense, to occupy. The complete
supremacy of the island was yet to be won; but that was to be won, when
it was won, by quite another process.
[Sidenote: Points of difference between the English Conquest and other
Teutonic conquests.]
The English Conquest of Britain differed in several important respects
from every other settlement of a Teutonic people within the limits of
the Roman Empire. Everywhere else the invaders gradually adopted the
language and the religion of the conquered. If the conquerors were
heathens at the time of their settlement, they gradually adopted
Christianity. If they had already adopted Christianity in its Arian
form, they gradually exchanged their heretical creed for that of the
Catholic [Sidenote: Gradual Romanization of the conquerors elsewhere in
religion, language, &c.] Church. Everywhere but in Britain the invaders
gradually learned to speak some form, however corrupt, of the language
of Rome. The Teutonic conquerors of Italy, Spain, and Gaul have indeed
infused into the Romance languages of these countries a large proportion
of words of Teutonic origin. Still the language of all those countries
remains essentially Latin; the Teutonic element in them is a mere
infusion. Everywhere but in Britain the invaders respected the laws and
the arts of Rome. The Roman Law was preserved, side by side with the
Barbarian codes, as the rightful heritage of the conquered people; and,
in the process of ages, the Roman Law gradually recovered its position
as the dominant code of a large portion of continental Europe.
Everywhere but in Britain the local divisions and local nomenclature
survived the Conquest. Nearly every Gaulish tribe recorded by Cæsar has
left its name still to be traced on the modern map.[11] In Britain
everything is different. [Sidenote: Retention by the English of their
Teutonic language and heathen worship.] The conquering English entered
Britain as heathens, and, after their settlement in Britain, they still
retained the heathen worship of their fathers. They were after a while
converted to Christianity, but they were not converted by the Christians
whom they found in the island, but by a special mission from the common
ecclesiastical centre. Our bishoprics and ecclesiastical divisions are
not, as they are in Gaul, an heritage of Roman times, representing Roman
political divisions. Our oldest episcopal sees are foundations of later
date than the English Conquest, and the limits of their dioceses answer,
not to anything Welsh or Roman, but to the boundaries of ancient English
[Sidenote: History of the English language—] principalities. And, as the
English in Britain retained their religion, so they also retained their
language, and they retained it far more permanently. A few Celtic, and a
still fewer Latin,[12] words found their way into English from the first
days of the Conquest, and a somewhat larger stock of Latin
ecclesiastical terms[13] was [Sidenote: a Low-Dutch tongue with a
Romance infusion.] naturally brought in by the Christian missionaries.
But, with these two very small classes of exceptions, the English
language retained its purely Low-Dutch character down to that great
infusion of Romance words into our vocabulary which was a result, though
not an immediate result, of the Norman Conquest. And to this day, though
the Romance infusion divides the vocabulary of our dictionaries with our
natural Teutonic speech, it still remains only an infusion, an infusion
greater in degree, but essentially the same in kind, as the Teutonic
infusion into the Romance languages.[14] As we cannot put together the
shortest French sentence without the use of Romance words, so we cannot
put together the shortest English sentence without the use of Teutonic
words. But we can put together sentence after sentence of French without
a single Teutonic word, and we can equally put together sentence after
sentence of English without a single Romance word. In Britain too the
arts of Rome perished as utterly as the language and the religion of
Rome; arts, language, and religion were all brought back again at a
later time and in a corrupted form. [Sidenote: Slight and late influence
of the Roman Law in England.] The laws of Rome perished utterly; they
exercised no influence upon our insular jurisprudence, until, in times
after the Norman Conquest, the Civil Law was introduced as something
utterly exotic. And even then our insular jurisprudence proved too
strong for it; the Imperial legislation never gained in England the same
supremacy which it gained in most parts of the Continent, and even in
the Scottish portion of our island. The municipal institutions of the
Roman towns in Britain utterly perished; no dream of ingenious men is
more groundless than that which seeks to trace the franchises of English
[Sidenote: Local nomenclature of England essentially Teutonic.] cities
to a Roman source. In England again the local nomenclature is everywhere
essentially Teutonic. A few great cities and a few great natural
objects, London on the Thames and Gloucester on the Severn, still retain
names older than the English Conquest; but the great mass of the towns
and villages of England bear names which were given them either by the
Angles and Saxons of the fifth and sixth centuries or by the Danes of
the [Sidenote: Probable extirpation of the Celtic inhabitants.] ninth
and tenth. In short, though the literal extirpation of a nation is an
impossibility,[15] there is every reason to believe that the Celtic
inhabitants of those parts of Britain which had become English at the
end of the sixth century had been as nearly extirpated as a nation can
be. The women would doubtless be often spared;[16] but as far as the
male sex is concerned, we may feel sure that death, emigration, or
personal slavery were the only alternatives which the vanquished found
at the hands of our fathers. The nature of the small Celtic element
[Sidenote: Nature of the Celtic element in English confirms this view.]
in our language would of itself prove the fact. Nearly every Welsh word
which has found its way into English expresses some small household
matter, such as women and slaves would be concerned with; nearly all the
words belonging to the nobler callings, all the terms of government and
war, and nearly all the terms of agriculture, are thoroughly Teutonic.
In short, everywhere but in Britain an intruding nation sat down by the
side of an elder nation, and gradually lost itself in its mass. In
Britain, so far as such a process is possible, the intruding nation
altogether supplanted the elder [Sidenote: Difference in the actual
process of the Conquest in Britain and elsewhere.] nation. The process
of the Conquest again, its gradual character, the way in which the land
was won, bit by bit, by hard fighting, was of itself widely different
from the Gothic settlements in Italy or Spain. This peculiar character
of the English Conquest would of itself favour the complete displacement
of the former inhabitants, by giving the remnant of the vanquished in
any district the means of escape to those districts which were yet
unconquered.
[Sidenote: Causes of the difference.]
This remarkable contrast between the English Conquest of Britain and the
other Teutonic settlements within the Empire seems to be due to two main
causes. The position of Britain differed from that of Italy or Gaul or
Spain, and the position of the Angles and Saxons differed from that of
Goths, Burgundians, or even Franks. [Sidenote: Britain less thoroughly
Romanized than Gaul and Spain.] The event alone might seem to show that
the Roman occupation of Britain had not brought about so complete a
Romanization of the country as had taken place in Gaul and Spain. The
evidence of language looks the same way. In Spain and in Gaul the
ante-Roman languages survive only in a few out of the way corners; the
speech of the land is Roman. But in no part of Britain has any Roman
language been spoken for ages; the speech of the land, wherever it is
not English, is not Roman but Celtic. The surviving Britons kept, and
still keep, their own native language and not the language of their
Roman conquerors. It would therefore seem that the Roman occupation of
Britain was, after all, very superficial, and that, when the legions
were withdrawn, the natives largely fell back into their ancient
barbarism. The English therefore found in Britain a more stubborn,
because a more truly national, resistance than any that their Teutonic
kinsmen found elsewhere. But on the other hand, they did not find that
perfect and striking fabric of Roman laws, manners, and arts which
elsewhere impressed the minds of the conquerors, [Sidenote: Familiarity
of the other Teutons with Roman civilization.] and changed them from
destroyers into disciples. Again, the Goths above all, and the Franks in
some degree, had long been familiar with Rome in peace and in war. They
had resisted Roman attempts at conquest and they had repaid them in
kind. They had served in the Roman armies, and had received lands and
honours and offices as the reward of their services. They were, in
short, neither wholly ignorant of Roman civilization nor [Sidenote: The
English utterly ignorant of it.] utterly hostile to it. But our
forefathers came from lands where the Roman eagle had never been seen,
or had been seen only during the momentary incursions of Drusus and
Germanicus. They had never felt the charm which led Gothic kings to
glory in the title of Roman generals, and which led them to respect and
preserve the forms of Roman civilization and the monuments of Roman art.
Our forefathers appeared in the Isle of Britain purely as destroyers;
nowhere else in Western Europe were the existing men and the existing
institutions so utterly swept away. The English wiped out everything
Celtic and everything Roman as thoroughly as everything Roman was wiped
out of Africa by the Saracen conquerors of Carthage. A more fearful blow
never fell on any nation than the landing of the Angles [Sidenote:
Results of the peculiar character of the English Conquest.] and Saxons
was to the Celt of Britain. But we may now be thankful for the barbarism
and ferocity of our forefathers. Had we stayed in our earlier land, we
should have remained undistinguished from the mass of our Low-Dutch
kinsfolk. Had we conquered and settled only as Goths and Burgundians
conquered and settled, we should be simply one more member of the great
family of the Romance nations. Had we been a colony sent forth after the
mother country had attained to any degree of civilization, we might have
been lost like the Normans in Sicily or the Franks in Palestine. As it
was, we were a colony sent forth while our race was still in a state of
healthy barbarism. We won a country for ourselves, and we grew up, a new
people in a new land, bringing with us ideas and principles common to us
with the rest of our race, but not bringing with us any of the theories
and prejudices which have been the bane of later colonization. Severed
from the old stock, and kept aloof from intermixture with any other, we
ceased to be Germans and we did not become Britons or Romans. In our new
country we developed a new system for ourselves, partly by purely native
growth, partly by independent intercourse with the common centre of
civilization. The Goth is merged in the Romance population of Italy,
Spain, and Aquitaine; the Old-Saxon has lost his national being through
the subtler proselytism of the High-German; but the Angles, Saxons, and
Jutes, transplanted to the shores of Britain, have won for themselves a
new name and a new national being, and have handed on to us the distinct
and glorious inheritance of Englishmen.
[Sidenote: Condition of Britain at the end of the sixth century.]
Thus, before the end of the sixth century, by far the greater and more
fertile portion of Britain had become heathen and Teutonic. The land had
been occupied by various tribes; and most probably, as always happens in
such migrations, few bodies of settlers had been perfectly homogeneous.
A certain following of allies or subjects of other races is almost sure
to come in under the shadow of the main body. But it is clear that that
main body was everywhere so distinctly and predominantly of Low-Dutch
blood and speech as to swallow up any foreign elements which may have
accompanied it during its migration, as well as any that it may have
incorporated during the [Sidenote: The country occupied by various
kindred tribes, Angles, Saxons, Jutes, and Frisians.] process of the
Conquest or after its completion. Three kindred tribes, Angles, Saxons,
and Jutes, are, in the common national tradition, said to have divided
the land among them in very unequal proportions. For Saxons a
contemporary foreign notice substitutes Frisians.[17] But Angles,
Saxons, Frisians, were all tribes of one common stock; all spoke mere
dialectic varieties of one common tongue. From the very beginning of the
Conquest, all the Teutonic settlers, without distinction, are spoken of
as belonging to “the English kin.”[18] To trace out, by the evidence of
local nomenclature or otherwise, the exact extent of the settlements of
these various kindred tribes is highly interesting and important as a
matter of antiquarian and philological research. But the results of such
inquiries are of little moment for the purpose of such a sketch as the
present. [Sidenote: The various Teutonic tribes in Britain fused into
one nation before the Norman Conquest.] Long before the Norman Conquest
the various Low-Dutch tribes in Britain had been fused into one English
nation. The distinction between Angle and Saxon had become a merely
provincial distinction, and the jealousies which undoubtedly survived
between them had become merely provincial jealousies. To the united
nation the Angle had given his name, the Saxon had given his royal
dynasty; the Jute, the least considerable in the extent of his
territorial possessions, had been, according to all tradition, the first
to lead the way to a permanent settlement, and he had undoubtedly been
honoured by supplying the ecclesiastical centre from which Christianity
was spread over the land. If Wessex boasted of the royal capital of
Winchester, Kent boasted no less proudly of the spiritual metropolis of
Canterbury.
[Sidenote: The old notion of a regular Heptarchy inaccurate,]
The old notion of an Heptarchy, of a regular system of seven kingdoms,
united under the regular supremacy of a single over-lord, is a dream
which has passed away before the light of historic criticism. The
English kingdoms in Britain were ever fluctuating, alike in their number
and in their relations to one another. The number of perfectly
independent states was sometimes greater and sometimes less than the
mystical seven; and, till the beginning of the ninth century, the whole
nation did not admit the regular [Sidenote: yet seven kingdoms more
conspicuous than others.] supremacy of any fixed and permanent
over-lord. Yet it is no less certain that, among the mass of smaller and
more obscure principalities, seven kingdoms do stand out in a marked
way, seven kingdoms of which it is possible to put together something
like a continuous history, seven kingdoms which alone supplied
candidates for the dominion of the whole island. First comes the
earliest permanent [Sidenote: Kent. 449–825.] Teutonic settlement in
Britain, the Jutish kingdom of Kent. The direct descendants of Hengest
reigned over a land, which, as the corner of Britain nearest to the
continent, has ever been the first to receive every foreign immigration,
but which, notwithstanding, prides itself to this day on its specially
Teutonic character and on the retention of various old Teutonic usages
which have vanished elsewhere. Besides Kent, the Jutes formed no other
strictly independent state. Their only other settlement [Sidenote: [The
Jutes of Wight. 530–686.]] was a small principality, including the Isle
of Wight and part of Hampshire, whose history is closely connected with
that of the great Saxon kingdom in its immediate [Sidenote: The three
Saxon kingdoms.] neighbourhood, in which it was at last merged. The
remainder of the English territory south of the Thames, together with
some districts to the north of that river, formed the three kingdoms of
the Saxons, the East, the South, and the West, whose names speak for
themselves. Among these Sussex and Essex fill only a secondary part in
[Sidenote: Sussex. 477–825.] our history. The greatness of Sussex did
not last beyond the days of its founder Ælle, the first Bretwalda.
Whatever [Sidenote: Essex. 526–825.] importance Essex, or its offshoot
Middlesex, could claim as containing the great city of London was of no
long duration. We soon find London fluctuating between the condition of
an independent commonwealth and that of a dependency of the Mercian
Kings. Very different was [Sidenote: Wessex. 519–869.] the destiny of
the third Saxon kingdom. Wessex has grown into England, England into
Great Britain, Great Britain into the United Kingdom, the United Kingdom
into the British Empire. Every prince who has ruled England before and
since the eleventh century[19] has had the blood of Cerdic the
West-Saxon in his veins. At the [Sidenote: 577–584.] close of the sixth
century Wessex had risen to high importance among the English kingdoms,
though the days of its permanent supremacy were still far distant. Step
by step, from a small settlement on the Hampshire coast, the West-Saxons
had won their way, fighting battle after battle against the Welsh, and,
after nearly every battle, extending their borders by a new acquisition
of territory. At the time of which I speak they held the modern shires
of Hampshire, Berks, Wilts, Dorset, part of Somerset, with a
considerable dominion north of the Thames and Avon, including the shires
of Buckingham, Oxford, Gloucester, and Worcester, and an undefined
territory stretching northwards along the valley of the Severn.[20] But
this northern dominion was not lasting; the Thames and the Avon became
the permanent boundaries of Wessex to the north, and the later extension
of the West-Saxon dominion was wholly westward. At this time the
Somerset Axe, and the forests on the borders of Somerset and Wiltshire,
separated the kingdom from the independent [Sidenote: The three Anglian
kingdoms.] Britons to the West. North of the Thames lay the three great
kingdoms of the Angles. One of these, probably the most purely Teutonic
realm in Britain,[21] occupied the great peninsula, or rather
island,[22] between the fens and [Sidenote: East-Anglia. 571–870.] the
German Ocean, which received from them the name of East-Anglia. Far to
the north, from the Humber to the [Sidenote: Northumberland. 547–876.]
Forth, lay the great realm of the Northumbrians, sometimes united under
a single prince, sometimes divided by the Tyne or the Tees into the two
kingdoms of Bernicia and Deira. Both these kingdoms have a large
sea-board, but they are not, like Wessex, distinctly attributed to a
personal founder from beyond sea. The first recorded King of the
Northumbrians is Ida, who began to reign in 547;[23] the first recorded
King of the East-Angles is Offa, who began to reign in 571.[24] These
dates give the beginnings of the kingdoms, but they do not give the
beginnings of the English settlements in those countries. What Ida and
Offa did was apparently to unite districts ruled by several independent,
or at most confederated, Ealdormen into a [Sidenote: Mercia. 584?–877.]
single kingdom. Meanwhile, in the middle of Britain, a power equal to
any of the others was growing up, in which the same process is still
more plainly to be discerned. The kingdom of the Mercians, the _march_
or border land against the Welsh, appears at the end of the sixth
century as a powerful state, but it has no distinctly recorded
[Sidenote: Peculiar character of Mercia, as an union of small states of
different origins.] founder, no distinctly recorded date of origin.[25]
It seems to have grown up through the joining together of a great number
of small principalities, probably of much more varied origin than the
different portions of the other kingdoms. The prevailing blood was
Anglian; but it is certain that the Mercian kingdom was considerably
enlarged by conquest at the expense of the Saxon race. The West-Saxon
conquests north of the Thames and Avon were gradually cut off from the
West-Saxon body, and were constrained, along with all the other states
of Mid-England, to admit the Mercian supremacy. Mercia, throughout its
history, appears far more divided than any other part of England, the
result, no doubt, of its peculiar [Sidenote: Minor principalities in the
other kingdoms.] origin. But it must not be supposed that the other
kingdoms formed compact or centralized monarchies. Wessex was an union
of several kindred principalities, each having its own Ealdorman or
Under-king, though all were united under one supreme chief. At one time
five West-Saxon Kings appear in a single battle.[26] So in Kent there
were Kings of East and West Kent, a fact which has left its memory in
our ecclesiastical arrangements to the present day. No other English
shire contains two bishoprics; the two sees of Canterbury and Rochester
still bear witness to the former existence of two distinct kingdoms
within the present shire. So, in East-Anglia, the two divisions of the
race, the North and the South Folk, have left their almost unaltered
names to two modern counties. But in these cases the principalities seem
to have been formed by separate, though kindred, detachments of
colonists, each of them ruled by a prince of the one royal house. In
Wessex each successive conquest from the Welsh seems to have formed a
new principality; but the national unity of the West-Saxon people was
never lost, and it does not appear that any but princes of the line of
Cerdic ever ruled within their borders. But in Mercia a crowd of wholly
independent principalities seem to have been gradually united under one
common rule—a type of the fate which the whole island was destined to
undergo, though not at the hands of Mercia.
Such were the territorial divisions of Teutonic Britain at the end of
the sixth century. Among a crowd of lesser states seven principal
Kingdoms stand out conspicuously. And I do not hesitate to add that it
was by no means unusual for the sovereign of one or other of these
states [Sidenote: The supremacy of the Bretwaldas.] to win, whether by
arms or by persuasion, a certain dominion over the rest, a dominion
which presented the aspect of an acknowledged, though probably not a
very well defined, supremacy. The famous title of Bretwalda[27] appears
to have been borne by the princes in whom such a supremacy was
successively vested. Eight kings, of five different kingdoms, including
all the seven except Essex and Mercia, are said to have possessed this
supremacy over the rest of their fellows. The list, it should be
remarked, does not form a continuous series, and it ends, after a
considerable gap, with the prince who established in one kingdom a
lasting supremacy over all the rest. The earlier names probably
represent earlier attempts at establishing a supremacy of the same kind,
a supremacy which was more or less fully acknowledged at the time, but
which the princes who held it failed to hand on to their successors. The
early Bretwaldas and their dominion present us with the first
foreshadowings of that union of the whole English race which was at last
carried out by the West-Saxon Kings of the ninth and tenth centuries.
§ 2. _Conversion of the English to Christianity._ 597–681.
The last years of the sixth century were marked by a change hardly less
important than the first settlement of the Teutonic tribes in Britain.
The Christian faith, which the English had hitherto despised or passed
by unheeded as the creed of the conquered Welsh, was now set before them
by a special mission from the city which still commanded the reverence
of all Western Europe. Kent, under its King Æthelberht, who then held
the rank of Bretwalda, became the first Christian [Sidenote: 597.]
kingdom, and Canterbury became the first Christian city, the spiritual
metropolis of the English nation. To the vanquished Welsh the conquering
Saxons and Angles [Sidenote: Controversies between the Roman and
Scottish parties.] had never listened; but no sooner had the Roman
missionaries begun their work than another Christian element was brought
in from the North, at the hands of the already converted Picts and
Scots. Sectarian differences divided the two parties, and led to
controversies which threatened to tear the infant Church in pieces.
Christian Kings and kingdoms apostatized; heathen Kings overthrew the
champions of the new faith [Sidenote: Christianity makes its way in
England without violence.] in battle; but, amidst all these
fluctuations, Christianity gradually but steadily made its way. And in
no part of the world did Christianity make its way in a more honourable
manner. We nowhere read of any of those persecutions, those conversions
at the point of the sword, which disgraced the proselytizing zeal of the
Frankish and Scandinavian apostles of the faith. Of the first Christian
prince in England, it is distinctly told us that, while still a heathen,
he hindered none of his subjects from embracing Christianity, and that,
after he was himself converted, he constrained none to forsake their
ancient faith.[28] In less than a century all the English kingdoms had
fully accepted Christianity, and they had distinctly preferred its Roman
to its Scottish form. [Sidenote: Conversion of Sussex, the last heathen
part of Britain. 681] Before the end of the seventh century, the
spiritual conquest of Britain was completed by the entrance of the
South-Saxons into the fold of Christ; and, in the course of the eighth
century, the insular Teutons showed themselves the most zealous of
missionaries for the [Sidenote: English missionaries on the Continent.]
conversion of those of their continental brethren who still remained in
heathen darkness. Bishoprics were gradually founded, the limits of each
diocese commonly answering to those of a kingdom or principality. The
[Sidenote: 597.] supremacy of Kent at the beginning of the conversion,
[Sidenote: 627.] the supremacy of Northumberland at the stage when
Christianity was first preached to the northern English, is still shown
to this day in the metropolitan position of Canterbury, the city of the
Bretwalda Æthelberht, and of York, the city of the Bretwalda Eadwine.
The land was speedily covered with churches and monasteries, the
distinction between regulars and seculars being, during the missionary
period, not very accurately drawn. Our forefathers soon acquired a fair
share of the learning of the age, and the first two centuries after the
conversion form a brilliant period in our ecclesiastical history, one
which seems the more brilliant from the contrast with the time of
renewed heathenism and darkness, which, in a large portion of Britain,
was to follow it.
[Sidenote: Effects of the conversion of the English. Their former
isolated position.]
The conversion of the English to Christianity at once altered their
whole position in the world. Hitherto our history had been almost wholly
insular; our heathen forefathers had had but little to do, either in war
or in peace, with any nations beyond their own four seas. We hear little
of any connexion being kept up between the Angles and Saxons who were
settled in Britain, and their kinsfolk [Sidenote: Instances of connexion
with the Franks in Gaul.] who abode in their older land.[29] The little
intercourse that we read of with the mainland seems to be wholly with
the Franks who now bore rule on the opposite coast of Gaul. Englishmen
seem once, in the sixth century, to have found their way to the Imperial
court, but it was in company with the ambassadors of a Frankish prince,
who at least tried to represent himself as the over-lord of Britain.[30]
One instance of connexion between Britain and Gaul may have had some
indirect effect in promoting the work of conversion. English Kings then,
and long after, commonly intermarried with English women, the daughters
either of other English princes or of their own nobles. But the
Bretwalda Æthelberht, before the landing of Augustine, was already
married to a Frankish princess, who retained her Christian religion in
his heathen court. Such a fact is chiefly remarkable for its
strangeness; yet it points to a considerable amount of intercourse
between Kent and the Franks of Paris at this particular moment. Still,
up to the end of the sixth century, Britain, as a whole, was cut off
from the rest of the world. It was a heathen and barbarous island, where
the Christian faith was professed only by an obscure remnant, which, in
some remote corners beyond the reach of the invaders, still retained a
form of Christianity which, after all, was not the orthodoxy of the Old
or of the New Rome. It was the conversion of our forefathers which
brought England for the first time, not only within the pale of the
Christian Church, but within the pale of the general political society
of Europe. But our insular position, combined with the events of our
earlier history, was not without its effect on the peculiar character of
[Sidenote: England the first strictly national Church in the West.]
Christianity as established in England. England was the first great
territorial[31] conquest of the spiritual power, beyond the limits of
the Roman Empire, beyond the influence of Greek and Roman civilization.
Italy, Spain, Gaul, Africa, the Greek East and the remoter Churches of
doubtful loyalty and orthodoxy, were all either actually under the sway
of Cæsar, or retained distinct traces of the recent times when they had
been so. When Æthelberht received baptism, the political sway of Rome
still reached from the Ocean to the Euphrates, and the language of Rome
was the one civilized speech from the Ocean to the Hadriatic. Strictly
national Churches existed only in those lands of the further East, where
the religious and the political loyalty of Syrians and Egyptians was
already equally doubtful, and which were destined to fall away at the
first touch of the victorious Saracen. In England, [Sidenote: Error of
not employing the English language in public worship.] alone in the
West, a purely national Church arose. One great error indeed was
committed; the vernacular tongue did not become the language of public
worship. The mistake was natural. It had occurred to no man to translate
the Latin services, drawn up at a time when Latin was the universal
language of the West, into those provincial dialects, the parents of the
future Romance tongues, which were already growing up in Gaul and Spain.
We should as soon think now of translating the Prayer-Book into the
dialects of Somerset or Yorkshire. Led thus to look on Latin as the one
tongue of worship, as well as of literature and government, Augustine
and his successors failed to see that Teutonic England stood in a wholly
different position from Romanized Gaul and Spain. They failed to see
that the same reasons which required that men should pray in Latin at
Rome required that they should pray in English at Canterbury. The error
was pardonable, but in its effects it was great. Still, though England
had not vernacular services, she soon began to form a vernacular
literature, sacred and profane, poetical and historical, to which no
other nation of the West can supply a parallel. The English Church,
reverencing Rome, but not slavishly bowing down to her, grew up with a
distinctly national character, and gradually infused its influence into
all the feelings and habits of the English people. By the end of the
seventh century, the independent, insular, Teutonic Church had become
one of the brightest lights of the Christian firmament.
In short, the introduction of Christianity completely changed the
position of the English nation both within its own island and towards
the rest of the world. From this time the amount of intercourse with
other nations steadily increased, and the change of religion had also a
most [Sidenote: Practical effect of Christianity.] important effect
within the island itself. The morality of the Gospel had a direct
influence upon the politics of the age. The evangelical precepts of
peace and love did not put an end to war, they did not put an end to
aggressive conquest, but they distinctly humanized the way in which
[Sidenote: The wars with the Welsh no longer wars of extermination.] war
was carried on. From this time forth the never-ending wars with the
Welsh cease to be wars of extermination. The heathen English had been
satisfied with nothing short of the destruction or expulsion of their
enemies; the Christian English thought it enough to [Sidenote: Advance
of Wessex.] reduce them to political subjection. This is clearly marked
in the advance of Wessex towards the West. Twenty [Sidenote: Conquests
of Ceawlin. 577–584.] years before the coming of Augustine, Ceawlin, the
West-Saxon Bretwalda, had won the great battle of Deorham; he had taken
the cities of Bath, Gloucester, and Cirencester; he had then carried his
arms northward, and in his northern march he had destroyed the Roman
city of Uriconium. These northern conquests, as we have seen,[32] were
in a certain sense temporary; the districts overrun by Ceawlin beyond
the Avon, like the other West-Saxon possessions north of the Thames,
ceased for ever to be Welsh, but they did not become for ever
West-Saxon. But the land between the Avon and the Axe, the northern part
of modern Somerset, became an abiding part of the West-Saxon realm. This
was the last heathen conquest, the last exterminating conquest, waged by
the West-Saxons against the Britons. During a space of three hundred
years, the process of West-Saxon conquest [Sidenote: Further advances of
the West-Saxons. 652–926.] still went on; step by step the English
frontier advanced from the Axe to the Parret, from the Parret to the
Tamar; Taunton at one stage, Exeter at another, were border fortresses
against the Welsh enemy; step by step the old Cornish kingdom shrank up
before the conquerors; till at last no portion of land south of the
Bristol Channel was subject to a British sovereign. This was conquest;
it was, no doubt, fearful and desolating conquest; but it was no longer
conquest which offered only the dreadful alternatives of death,
banishment, or personal slavery. The Christian Welsh could now sit down
as subjects of the [Sidenote: In these later wars the Welsh are allowed
to become West-Saxon subjects.] Christian Saxon. The Welshman was
acknowledged as a man and a citizen; he was put under the protection of
the law; he could hold landed property; his blood had its price, and his
oath had its ascertained value.[33] The value set on his life and on his
oath shows that he was not yet looked on as the equal of the conquering
race; but the Welshman within the West-Saxon border was no longer a wild
beast, an enemy, or a slave, but a fellow-Christian living under the
King’s peace. There can be no doubt that the great peninsula stretching
from the Axe to the Land’s End was, and still is, largely inhabited by
men who are only naturalized Englishmen, descendants of the old Welsh
inhabitants, who gradually lost their distinctive language and were
merged in the general mass of their [Sidenote: Celtic element still
remaining in the western shires of Wessex.] conquerors. In fact, the
extinction of the Cornish language in modern Cornwall within
comparatively recent times was only the last stage of a process which
began with the conquests of Cenwealh in the seventh century. The Celtic
element can be traced from the Axe, the last heathen frontier, to the
extremity of Cornwall, of course increasing in amount as we reach the
lands which were more recently conquered and therefore less perfectly
Teutonized. Devonshire is less Celtic than Cornwall, and Somerset is
less Celtic than Devonshire, but not one of those three shires can be
called a pure Teutonic land like Kent or Norfolk. The same rule would
doubtless apply to those less accurately recorded conquests by which the
Mercian Kings extended their dominion from the Severn to the modern
boundaries of Wales. We have now everywhere passed the age of
extermination, and have entered on the age marked by the comparatively
harmless process of political conquest.
[Illustration: BRITAIN IN 597.]
FOR THE DELEGATES OF THE CLARENDON PRESS.
§ 3. _Fluctuations of dominion between Northumberland, Mercia, and
Wessex._ 577–823.
[Sidenote: History of the seventh and eighth centuries; position of the
smaller kingdoms; of Wessex.]
During the seventh and eighth centuries there were many fluctuations in
the relative position of the English kingdoms. Not only Essex, but
Sussex and East-Anglia, each of which had given the nation a single
Bretwalda, sink into insignificance, and even Kent falls into quite a
secondary position. Wessex stood higher; but its Kings, occupied with
extending their western frontier, made as yet no attempt to win the
supremacy of the whole island, and they often had no small difficulty in
maintaining their own independence against Northumbrians [Sidenote:
Rivalry of Mercia and Northumberland.] and Mercians. The rivalries of
these last two powers fill for a long while the most important place in
our history. [Sidenote: Greatness of Northumberland at the] At the end
of the sixth century and the beginning of the seventh, Northumberland
was at the height of its power. Its King Æthelfrith stands forth in the
pages of Bæda[34] as [Sidenote: beginning of the period.] the mightiest
of conquerors against the Welsh, and as checking an invasion of Picts
and Scots at the great battle [Sidenote: 603.] of Dægsanstan. It must
always be borne in mind that, at this time and long after, Lothian was
politically as well as ethnologically English, and that Picts and
Scots—whatever was the amount of distinction between them—are to
[Sidenote: Dominion of Eadwine. 617–633.] be looked for only north of
the Forth. Eadwine, the first Christian King of Northumberland, and who
ranks as the fifth Bretwalda, has left his name to the frontier fortress
of Eadwinesburh or Edinburgh. Eadwine was a true Bretwalda in every
sense of the word, holding a supremacy alike over Teutons and
Britons.[35] Five Kings of the [Sidenote: 626.] West-Saxons fell in
battle against him;[36] but at last [Sidenote: 633.] he died at
Heathfield in battle against Penda, the [Sidenote: Reign of Penda of
Mercia. 627–655.] heathen King of the Mercians. Along with Penda
appeared a strange ally, Cadwalla, the Christian King of the Strathclyde
Welsh, the last of his race who could boast of having carried on
aggressive war, as distinguished from mere plundering inroads, within
the territory of any, [Sidenote: 641.] English people. Not long
afterwards, Oswald, the restorer of the Northumbrian kingdom and the
sixth Bretwalda, fell in another battle against the heathen Mercian. The
arms of Penda were no less successful against the West-Saxons.
[Sidenote: 628.] Even before the overthrow of Eadwine, he had most
likely annexed to Mercia part of the West-Saxon [Sidenote: 644.] lands
north of the Thames and Avon;[37] and sixteen years later, Cenwealh, who
afterwards appears as an extender of the West-Saxon frontier at the
expense of the Welsh, was for a while driven from his kingdom by the
same terrible enemy. Penda, in short, came nearer to achieving the
[Sidenote: Extent of his dominion.] union of the whole English nation
under one sceptre than any prince before the West-Saxon Ecgberht.
Everything looked as if the lasting dominion of Britain were destined
for Mercia, and even as if the faith of Christ were about to be plucked
up out of the land before it had well taken root. But it was impossible
that England should now fall back under the rule of a mere heathen
conqueror. The dominion of Penda appears in our history as a mere
passing tyranny, and, though he must have possessed more real power than
any English prince had ever done before him, his name finds no place on
the list of Bretwaldas. [Sidenote: Death of Penda. 655.] At last the
seventh prince who bore that title, Oswiu of Northumberland, checked him
in his last invasion, and slew him in the battle of Wingfield, a name
which, obscure as it now sounds, marks an important turning-point in the
history of our island. The strife between the creeds of Christ and of
Woden was there finally decided; the Mercians embraced the religion of
their neighbours, and Northumberland again became the leading power of
[Sidenote: Greatness of Northumberland under Oswald, Oswiu, and
Ecgfrith. 635–685.] Britain. Under her two Bretwaldas, Oswald and Oswiu,
the English dominion was, seemingly for the first time, extended beyond
the Forth, and Picts and Scots, as well as English and Britons, admitted
the supremacy of the Northumbrian King.[38] But the greatness of
Northumberland lasted no longer than the reigns of Oswiu and his son
[Sidenote: 685.] Ecgfrith. Ecgfrith was slain in battle against the
Picts; the northern dominion of Northumberland died with him, and the
kingdom itself, which had been for a while the most flourishing and
advancing state in Britain, was gradually weakened by internal
divisions. It sank into utter insignificance, and stood ready, as we
shall soon see, [Sidenote: Greatness of Mercia. 716–819.] for the
irruption of a new race of conquerors. After the decline of
Northumberland, the Christian Mercians are again seen on the road to
that supremacy which had once been so nearly grasped by their heathen
forefathers. The [Sidenote: 655–656.] fall of Penda carried with it a
momentary subjugation of Mercia to Northumberland, but the land almost
immediately recovered its independence, and in the next century Mercia
again advanced from independence to dominion. [Sidenote: Æthelbald,
716–757. Offa, 757–795. Cenwulf, 796–819.] Under three bold and
enterprising Kings, Æthelbald, Offa, and Cenwulf, the armies of Mercia
went forth conquering and to conquer, and the periods of momentary
confusion which divided these three vigorous reigns seem to have been no
serious hindrance to the general advance of the kingdom. Wessex was
still engaged in its long struggle with the Welsh, and was in no
position to aspire to the dominion of Britain. It was quite as much as
the West-Saxon Kings could do to push their conquests against the Welsh
on the one hand and to maintain their independence against Mercia on the
other. Wessex was more than once invaded by the Mercians; at one time it
became actually [Sidenote: 752.] tributary; till Cuthred, in the middle
of the eighth century, finally secured its independence in the fight of
Burford. In the latter half of that century, Offa raised the Mercian
kingdom to a greater degree of real power than it had ever held, even
during the momentary dominion of Penda. He conquered from the Welsh the
lands between the Severn and the Wye, a lasting and useful acquisition
for the English nation, which he is said to have secured by the great
dyke which still bears his name. On the other side of Britain, all the
smaller states, East-Anglia, Essex, Kent, and Sussex, were brought more
or less completely under his power. Victorious over all enemies within
his own island, Offa, as the mightiest potentate of the West,
corresponded on equal terms with the Great Charles, the mightiest
potentate of the East.[39] [Sidenote: Influence of Charles the Great]
Occasional misunderstandings between the two princes seem not to have
seriously interrupted their friendship. It [Sidenote: in English
affairs. 808.] is possible that the Kentish Kings applied for help
against Offa to the mighty Frank; it is more certain that, after Offa’s
death, Charles, now Emperor, procured the restoration of the banished
Northumbrian King Eardwulf, and there seems reason to believe that both
the Northumbrian and his Scottish neighbours acknowledged themselves the
vassals of the new Augustus.[40]
After the death of Offa the greatness of Mercia continued for a while
undiminished under the reign of his son Cenwulf. But meanwhile the seeds
of a mighty revolution [Sidenote: Accession of Ecgberht of Wessex. 802.]
were sowing. A prince, taught in the school of adversity, who had
learned the arts of war and statecraft at the feet of the hero of the
age, was, in the eighth year after Offa’s death, raised to the throne of
the West-Saxons.[41] He was destined to win a dominion for which that
narrow and local description seemed all too mean. Once, but seemingly
once only, in the hour of victory, did the eighth Bretwalda, the founder
of the abiding supremacy of Wessex, venture to exchange his ancestral
title of King of the West-Saxons for the prouder style of KING OF THE
ENGLISH.[42]
§ 4. _Permanent Supremacy of Wessex._ 823–924.
[Sidenote: Analogy between Charles and Ecgberht.]
Ecgberht was chosen King of the West-Saxons two years after Charles the
Great was chosen Emperor. And we can hardly doubt that the example of
his illustrious friend and host was ever present before his eyes. He
could not indeed aspire, like Charles, to the diadem of the Cæsars, but
he could aspire to an analogous rank in an island which men sometimes
counted for another world. He could win for his own kingdom a lasting
superiority over all its neighbours, and so pave the way for the day
when all England and all Britain [Sidenote: Permanent supremacy of
Wessex now established.] should acknowledge only a single King. The
eighth Bretwalda not only established a power over the whole land such
as had been held by no other prince before him, but he did what no other
Bretwalda had ever done, he handed on his external dominion as a lasting
possession to his successors in his own kingdom. From this time forward,
Wessex remained the undisputed head of the English nation. The power of
the West-Saxon Kings might be assaulted, and at last overthrown, by
foreign invaders, but it was never again disputed by rival [Sidenote:
Ecgberht the founder of the kingdom of England.] potentates of English
blood. In short, as Charles founded the Kingdom of Germany, Ecgberht at
least laid the foundations of the Kingdom of England. In his reign
[Sidenote: Gradual submission of the other states. 802–837.] of
thirty-six years he reduced all the English kingdoms to a greater or
less degree of subjection. The smaller states seem to have willingly
submitted to him as a deliverer from the power of Mercia. East-Anglia
became [Sidenote: Kent, &c. 823. [See Chron. in anno.]] a dependent
ally; Kent and the smaller Saxon kingdoms were more closely incorporated
with the ruling state. While in East-Anglia Kings of the old line
continued to reign as vassals of the West-Saxon over-lord, Kent, Essex,
and Sussex were united into a still more dependent realm, which was
usually granted out as an apanage to some prince of the West-Saxon royal
house.[43] Northumberland, torn by civil dissensions, was in no position
to withstand the power which was growing up in the [Sidenote: Submission
of Northumberland. 829.] south of Britain. At the approach of a
West-Saxon army the Northumbrians seem to have submitted without
resistance; keeping, like East-Anglia, their own line of [Sidenote:
Final struggle with Mercia. 802–829.] vassal Kings. But Mercia was won
only after a long struggle. Ecgberht had inherited war with Mercia as an
inheritance from his predecessors. The first year of his reign, before
he had himself come back to assume the crown to which he had been
chosen, was marked by a successful resistance to a Mercian inroad.[44]
And even [Sidenote: 825.] many years after, one of the greatest
victories of his reign, the fight of Ellandun, was a victory over
Mercian invaders within the West-Saxon realm. That victory deprived
Mercia of all her external dominion; it was immediately after it that
Ecgberht annexed the smaller [Sidenote: Submission of Mercia. 829.]
kingdoms which had become Mercian dependencies. Four years later, Mercia
herself had to submit to the conqueror; [Sidenote: 830–874.] she kept
her Kings for nearly another half century, but they now received their
crown at the hands of the West-Saxon over-lord. It is immediately after
recording this greatest of Ecgberht’s triumphs that the Chronicles give
him in a marked way the title of Bretwalda.
It was immediately after the submission of Mercia that Ecgberht received
the far more easily won submission of Northumberland, which completed
his work of welding all the Teutonic kingdoms of Britain into one whole.
[Sidenote: Successes of Ecgberht over the Welsh. 815–837.] But, while
thus occupied, he had also to carry on the usual warfare with his Celtic
neighbours. The power of the Cornish Britons was now utterly broken. The
long struggle which had gone on ever since the days of Cerdic was now
over; the English frontier seems to have been extended to the Tamar,[45]
and the English [Sidenote: 825.] supremacy was certainly extended to the
Land’s End. The Welsh however within the conquered territory still
[Sidenote: 835.] kept their distinct being, and they sometimes, with the
aid of foreign invaders, strove to cast off the yoke. Against the
North-Welsh,[46] that is the inhabitants of Wales proper, Ecgberht was
equally successful. As Lord of Mercia he inherited from the Mercian
Kings a warfare against them as constant as that which he had inherited
from his own ancestors against the Welsh of Cornwall. As soon therefore
as he had established his supremacy [Sidenote: 828.] over Mercia, he
went on to require and to receive the submission of the Celtic
neighbours of his new dominion. [Sidenote: North and West Welsh vassals
of Wessex.] From this time forth all the Celtic inhabitants of Britain
south of the Dee were vassals of the West-Saxon King. But his power
never reached to the Picts, the Scots, or [Sidenote: Independence of
Picts, Scots, and Strathclyde Welsh.] the Strathclyde Welsh. In fact,
the northern Celts, except so far as they came in for their share of the
Danish invasions, enjoyed about this time a century of unusual
independence. The power of Northumberland had long been unequal to
maintaining its old supremacy over its Celtic neighbours, and the new
over-lord of Northumberland seems not to have attempted to enforce it.
Ecgberht therefore, even at the height of his power, was not Lord of the
whole isle of Britain. To win that title was the work of the West-Saxon
conquerors of the next century.
But just as the West-Saxon monarchy was reaching this pitch of
greatness, it was threatened by an enemy [Sidenote: Invasions of the
Danes. 789–1070.] far more formidable than any that could be found
within the four seas of Britain. We have now reached the time of the
Danish invasions. The Northern part of Europe, peopled by a race closely
akin to the Low-Dutch and speaking another dialect of the common
Teutonic speech, now began to send forth swarms of pirates over all the
seas of Europe, who from pirates often grew into conquerors. They were
still heathens, and their incursions, both in Britain and on the
Continent, must have been [Sidenote: 787. [Chron. in anno.]] a scourge
almost as frightful as the settlement of the English had been to the
original Britons. The Scandinavian incursions began before the accession
of Ecgberht, and even his power did not keep them wholly in check. It
must however have had some considerable effect, as it is only quite
towards the end of his reign that we hear of them again. In his last
years their incursions [Sidenote: 833.] became frequent and formidable,
and in one battle the Bretwalda himself was defeated by them. But he
afterwards gained, over the united forces of the Danes and [Sidenote:
836.] the revolted Welsh, the battle of Hengestesdun in Cornwall, which
may rank with Ellandun as the second great victory of his reign. Soon
after this success, which barely checked the Danish invasions, but which
completed [Sidenote: 837.] the submission of the West Welsh, King
Ecgberht died, like his model Charles, with, his own power undiminished,
but perhaps foreseeing what was to come when his sceptre should pass
into weaker hands.
[Sidenote: Three Periods of the Danish invasions.]
The Danish invasions of England, as I have already said,[47] fall
naturally into three periods, each of which finds its parallel in the
course of the English Conquest of Britain. As the Saxons and Angles
plundered and desolated long before they actually settled, so now their
[Sidenote: First Period, of simple plunder. 789–855.] Northern kinsmen
followed the same course. We first find a period in which the object of
the invaders seems to be simple plunder. They land, they harry the
country, they fight, if need be, to secure their booty, but whether
defeated or victorious, they equally return to their ships, and sail
away with what they have gathered. This period includes the time from
the first recorded invasion [Sidenote: Second Period, of settlement.
855–897.] till the latter half of the ninth century. Next comes a time
in which the object of the Danes is clearly no longer mere plunder, but
settlement. They now, just as the English had done before them, come in
much stronger bodies, and instead of sailing away every winter with
their plunder, they make lasting settlements in a large part of the
country. This took place in the second half of the ninth century. During
the greater part of the tenth century we read of few or no fresh
invasions from Scandinavia; the energies of the Northern tribes were
just now mainly devoted to those successive settlements in Gaul which
formed the Duchy of Normandy. [Sidenote: Struggle of the West-Saxon
Kings with the Danes settled in Britain. 902–954.] But the West-Saxon
Lords of Britain were engaged for more than fifty years in a constant
struggle to subdue and keep in obedience the Danes who had already
settled in the island. And the Danes in Britain were often helped by the
Scandinavian settlers who had occupied the eastern coast of Ireland and
the islands to the west and north of Scotland. A short interval of
peace, the glorious reign of Eadgar, now follows; [Sidenote: Third
Period of Danish invasion. Period of political conquest. 980–1016.]
towards the end of the tenth century the plundering invasions of the
Danes begin again; but they soon assume altogether a new character. The
North of Europe, hitherto divided among a crowd of petty princes, had
now, like England, like the Empire, settled down into a more regular
order of things. Three great kingdoms, Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, had
arisen. With Sweden we had nothing directly to do; the conquests of that
power were made to the East. With Norway also England proper had
comparatively little to do, though the Northmen who ravaged and settled
in Scotland and Ireland seem to have come mainly from that part of
Scandinavia. But the history of England for a long term of years is one
record of constant struggles with the power of Denmark. This forms the
third period. We have passed the time of mere plunder; we have passed
the time of mere local settlement. We have now reached the time of
political conquest, the [Sidenote: 994–1013.] time analogous to the
conquests of the West-Saxon Kings from Cenwealh to Eadred. We now see a
King of all Denmark bent on achieving the conquest of all England. We at
last see the foreign invader succeeding [Sidenote: 1013–1016.] in his
attempt, and reigning as King of the English, with the formal, though no
doubt the constrained, assent of the English nation. Of these three
periods, the third, as furnishing some of the immediate causes of the
Norman Conquest, I must deal with in greater detail at a later stage of
this history. The two earlier periods, those of mere plunder and of mere
settlement, come within the bounds of the present preliminary sketch.
The reigns of the son and the grandsons of Ecgberht were almost wholly
taken up by the struggle with the [Sidenote: Reign of Æthelwulf and his
sons. 837–901.] Northmen. In the reign of Æthelwulf the son of Ecgberht
it is recorded that the heathen men wintered for the first time in the
Isle of Sheppey. This marks [Sidenote: 855.] the transition from the
first to the second period of their invasions. Hitherto they had
plundered and had gone away with their plunder; to spend the winter on
English soil was the first step towards a lasting [Sidenote: 866.]
settlement. It was not however till about eleven years from this time
that the settlement actually began. Meanwhile the sceptre of the
West-Saxons passed from one hand to another. It is remarkable that no
English king of this or of the following century seems to have reached
old age. After Æthelwulf, whose age is uncertain, only one or two of his
descendants for several generations reached the age of fifty, and the
greater part of them were cut off while they were quite young. Four sons
of Æthelwulf reigned in succession, and the [Sidenote: 858–871.] reigns
of the first three among them make up together [Sidenote: Reign of
Æthelred. 866–871.] only thirteen years. In the reign of the third of
these princes, Æthelred the First, the second period of the invasions
fairly begins. Five years were spent by the Northmen in ravaging and
conquering the tributary [Sidenote: Conquest of Northumberland.
867–869.] kingdoms. Northumberland, still disputed between rival kings,
fell an easy prey; one or two puppet princes did not scruple to receive
a tributary crown at the hands [Sidenote: Invasion of Mercia. 868.] of
the heathen invaders.[48] They next entered Mercia, they seized
Nottingham, and the West-Saxon King, hastening to the relief of his
vassals, was unable to [Sidenote: Conquest of East-Anglia. 866–870.]
dislodge them from that stronghold. East-Anglia was completely
conquered, and its King Eadmund died a [Sidenote: First invasion of
Wessex. 871.] martyr. At last the full storm of invasion burst upon
Wessex itself. King Æthelred, the first of a long line of West-Saxon
hero kings, supported by his greater brother Ælfred, met the invaders in
battle after battle [Sidenote: Reign of Ælfred. 871–901.] with varied
success. He died, and Ælfred succeeded, in the thick of the struggle. In
this year, the last of Æthelred and the first of Ælfred, nine pitched
battles, besides smaller engagements, were fought with the heathens on
West-Saxon ground. At last peace was [Sidenote: 872.] made; the Danes
withdrew to London, within the Mercian frontier; Wessex was for a moment
delivered, but the supremacy won by Ecgberht was lost. For a few years
Wessex was subjected to nothing more than temporary incursions, but
Deira or Southern Northumberland, and north-eastern Mercia were
systematically [Sidenote: 876–877.] occupied by the Danes, and the land
was divided among them. In Bernicia or Northern Northumberland English
princes still reigned under Danish supremacy. The last native King of
the Mercians,[49] Burhred, the brother-in-law [Sidenote: 874.] of
Ælfred, had already been deposed by the Danes, [Sidenote: Second
invasion of Wessex. 878.] and had gone to Rome, where he ended his days.
At last the Danes, now settled in a large part of the island, made a
second attempt to add Wessex itself to their possessions. For a moment
the land seemed conquered; Ælfred himself lay hid in the marshes of
Somerset; men might well deem that the Empire of Ecgberht, and the
kingdom of Cerdic itself, had vanished for ever. But the strong heart of
the most renowned of Englishmen, the saint, the scholar, the hero, and
the lawgiver, carried his people safely through this most [Sidenote:
Peace of Wedmore and evacuation of Wessex. 878–880.] terrible of
dangers. Within a few months the Dragon of Wessex was again victorious;
the Northmen were driven to conclude a peace which Englishmen, fifty
years sooner, would have deemed the lowest depth of degradation, but
which now might fairly be looked upon as honourable and even as
triumphant. By the terms of the Peace of Wedmore the Northmen were to
leave Wessex and the part of Mercia south-west of Watling-Street;[50]
they, or at least their chiefs, were to submit to baptism, and they were
to receive the whole land beyond Watling-Street as vassals of the
West-Saxon [Sidenote: Reign of Guthrum-Æthelstan in East-Anglia.
880–890.] King. Guthrum, the Danish King, was accordingly baptized by
the name of Æthelstan; he took possession of his new dominions, and
observed the peace with decent fidelity down to his death.
[Sidenote: Character and extent of the Danish occupation.]
A large part of England thus received a colony of Danish inhabitants.
They gave their name to their conquest, and England is now divided into
Wessex, Mercia, and _Denalagu_, the region where the Danish law was in
force. This Danish occupation was a real settlement of a new people in
the land. There is no reason to think that any extirpation or expulsion
of the native inhabitants took place, such as that which accompanied the
English Conquest. But the displacement of landowners and the general
break-up of society must have been far greater than anything that was
afterwards [Sidenote: Evidence of local nomenclature.] brought about by
the Normans. How extensive the Danish occupation was is best seen in the
local nomenclature and local divisions.[51] The West-Saxon shires keep
to this day the names and the boundaries of the principalities founded
by the first successors of Cerdic. [Sidenote: Contrast between the
West-Saxon and Mercian shires.] In some of them there is no one dominant
town in a shire; several shires contain a town bearing a cognate name,
but the shire is seldom called directly and solely after a town. In
short, the local divisions of Wessex were not made but grew. Mercia, on
the other hand, has every appearance of having been artificially mapped
out. The shires, with at most two exceptions, are called after towns,
and in most cases the shire groups itself round its capital, as round an
acknowledged and convenient centre. The names of the old principalities
vanish, and their boundaries are often disregarded. One principality is
divided among several shires, and another shire is made up of several
ancient principalities. We can hardly doubt that the old divisions were
wiped out in the Danish invasions, and that the country was divided
again by the English Kings after the reconquest.
[Sidenote: Names of places in Northumberland and Mercia retaining the
names of Danish lords.]
Again, the names of the towns and villages throughout a large part of
the ceded territory show the systematic way in which the land was
divided among the Danish leaders. Through a large region, stretching
from Warwickshire to Cumberland, but most conspicuously in Yorkshire,
Lincolnshire, and Leicestershire, the Danish termination _by_ marks the
settlements of the invaders, and, in a vast number of cases, the name of
the manor still retains the name of the Danish lord to whom it was
assigned in the occupation of the ninth century. In two cases at least
the Danes gave new names to considerable towns. Streoneshalh and
Northweorthig received the [Sidenote: Whitby and Derby.] new names of
Whitby and Derby (Deoraby). This last town is one of considerable
importance in the history of the Danish settlement. It was, together
with Lincoln, [Sidenote: The Five Boroughs.] Leicester, Nottingham, and
Stamford, a member of a confederation of Danish towns, which, under the
name of the Five Boroughs, often plays a part in the events of the tenth
and eleventh centuries.
[Sidenote: Character of Ælfred.]
Ælfred, the unwilling author of these great changes, is the most perfect
character in history. He is a singular instance of a prince who has
become a hero of romance, who, as a hero of romance, has had countless
imaginary exploits and imaginary institutions attributed to him, but to
whose character romance has done no more than justice, and who appears
in exactly the same light in history and [Sidenote: Singular union of
virtues in him.] in fable. No other man on record has ever so thoroughly
united all the virtues both of the ruler and of the private man. In no
other man on record were so many virtues disfigured by so little
alloy.[52] A saint without superstition, a scholar without ostentation,
a warrior all whose wars were fought in the defence of his country, a
conqueror whose laurels were never stained by cruelty,[53] a prince
never cast down by adversity, never lifted up to insolence in the hour
of triumph—there is no other name in history [Sidenote: Comparison with
Saint Lewis;] to compare with his. Saint Lewis comes nearest to him in
the union of a more than monastic piety with the highest civil,
military, and domestic virtues. Ælfred and Lewis alike stand forth in
honourable contrast to the abject superstition of some other royal
saints, who were so selfishly engaged in the care of their own souls
that they refused either to raise up heirs to their throne or to strike
a blow on behalf of their people. But even in Saint Lewis we see a
disposition to forsake an immediate sphere of duty for the sake of
distant and unprofitable, however pious and glorious, undertakings. The
true duties of a King of the French clearly lay in France and not in
Egypt or at Tunis. No such charge lies at the door of the great King of
the West-Saxons. With an inquiring spirit which took in the whole world,
for purposes alike of scientific inquiry and of Christian benevolence,
Ælfred never forgot that his first duty was to his own people. He
forestalled our own age in exploring the Northern Ocean, and in sending
alms to the distant Churches of India; but he neither forsook his crown,
like some of his predecessors, nor neglected its [Sidenote: with
Washington;] duties, like some of his successors. The virtue of Ælfred,
like the virtue of Washington, consisted in no marvellous displays of
superhuman genius, but in the simple, straightforward, discharge of the
duty of the moment. But Washington, soldier, statesman, and patriot like
Ælfred, has no claim to Ælfred’s character of scholar and master
[Sidenote: with William the Silent;] of scholars. William the Silent,
like Ælfred the deliverer of his people, had no call to be also their
literary teacher; and in his career, glorious as it is, there is an
element of intrigue which is quite unlike the noble simplicity of both
Ælfred and Washington. The same union of zeal for religion and learning
with the highest gifts of the warrior and the statesman is found on a
wider field of [Sidenote: with Charles the Great;] action, in Charles
the Great. But even Charles cannot aspire to the pure glory of Ælfred.
Amidst all the splendours of conquest and legislation, we cannot be
blind to an alloy of personal ambition and personal vice, to occasional
unjust aggressions and occasional acts of cruelty. [Sidenote: with
Edward the First.] Among our own later princes, the great Edward alone
can bear for a moment the comparison with his glorious ancestor. And,
when tried by such a standard, even the great Edward fails. Even in him
we do not see the same wonderful union of gifts and virtues which so
seldom meet together; we cannot acquit Edward of occasional acts of
violence, of occasional recklessness as to means; we cannot attribute to
him the pure, simple, almost childlike disinterestedness which marks the
character of Ælfred. The times indeed were different; Edward had to
tread the path of righteousness and honour in a time of far more tangled
policy, and amidst temptations, not harder indeed, but far [Sidenote:
Ælfred’s position as a legislator;] more subtle. The legislative merits
of Edward are greater than those of Ælfred; but this is a difference in
the times rather than in the men. The popular error which makes Ælfred
the personal author of all our institutions hardly needs a fresh
confutation. Popular legends attribute to him the invention of Trial by
Jury and of countless other portions of our law, the germs of which may
be discerned ages before the time of Ælfred, while their existing shapes
cannot be discerned till ages after him. Ælfred, like so many of our
early kings, collected and codified the laws of his predecessors; but we
have his own personal witness[54] that he purposely abstained from any
large amount of strictly new legislation. The legislation of Edward, on
the other hand, in its boldness and originality, forms the most
[Sidenote: as scholar.] marked of all epochs in the history of our law.
It is perhaps, after all, in his literary aspect that the distinctive
beauty of Ælfred’s character shines forth most clearly. The mere
patronage of learning was common to him with many princes of his age.
Both Charles the Great and several of his successors had set brilliant
examples in this way. What distinguished Ælfred was his own personal
appearance as an author. Now, as a rule, literary kings have not been a
class deserving of much honour. They have commonly stepped out of their
natural sphere only to display the least honourable characteristics of
another calling. But it was not so with the Emperor Marcus; it was not
so with our Ælfred. In Ælfred there is no sign of literary pedantry,
ostentation, or jealousy; nothing is done for his own glory; he writes,
just as he fights and legislates, with a single eye to the good of his
people. He shows no signs of original genius; he is simply an editor and
translator, working honestly for the improvement of the subjects whom he
loved. This is really a purer fame, and one more in harmony with the
other features of Ælfred’s character, than the highest achievements of
the poet, the historian, or the philosopher. I repeat then that Ælfred
[Sidenote: Happiness of Ælfred in his successors.] is the most perfect
character in history. And he was specially happy in handing on a large
share of his genius and his virtue to those who came after him. The
West-Saxon kings, for nearly a century, form one of the most brilliant
royal lines on record. From Æthelred the Saint to Eadgar the Peaceful,
the short and wretched reign of Eadwig is the only interruption to one
continued display of valour under the guidance of wisdom. The greatness
of the dynasty, obscured under the second Æthelred, flashes forth for a
moment in the short and glorious career of the second Eadmund. It then
becomes more permanently eclipsed under the rule of Dane, Norman, and
Angevin, till it shines forth once more in the first of the new race
whom we can claim as English at heart, till, if not Ælfred himself, at
least his unconquered son, seems to rise again to life in one who at
once bore his name and followed in his steps.
[Sidenote: The Danish settlement tends to the consolidation of England
under the West-Saxon Kings.]
There can be little doubt that the Danish settlement in England, which
seemed at first to be the utter destruction of the West-Saxon monarchy,
tended in the end to the consolidation of England and of all Britain
under the West-Saxon kings. Looking at Ælfred as Bretwalda, a title
which had passed away, or as King of the English, a title which he
hardly ventured to assume, his loss was beyond expression. But, as local
King of the West-Saxons, he undoubtedly gained. The Danes were nominally
his vassals;[55] but their vassalage was so purely nominal that we may
look on Ælfred as having lost all authority over East-Anglia,
Northumberland, and the larger half of [Sidenote: Closer union between
Mercia and Wessex.] Mercia. But the remainder of Mercia was more closely
united to Wessex than it had been since the seventh century. The new
frontier gave to Ælfred nearly the whole of the old extent of Wessex
beyond the Thames and Avon, while it added a large region in the centre
of England which had never been West-Saxon before.[56] Still this great
acquisition was not absolutely incorporated with the West-Saxon kingdom.
The over-lord no longer entrusted the dependency to a vassal King, but
English [Sidenote: Before 886.] Mercia still had an Ealdorman of her
own, a man of princely descent within the land over which he ruled. But
Æthelred, the new ruler of south-western Mercia, was the son-in-law of
the West-Saxon King and ruled by his [Sidenote: Recovery of London.
886.] father-in-law’s appointment.[57] And along with the recovered
portion of Mercia, Ælfred also regained London, a city which we shall
henceforth ever find to be one of the firmest strongholds of English
freedom and one of the truest bulwarks of the realm.
[Sidenote: Consolidation of Wessex.]
We may therefore look on the immediate West-Saxon territory as actually
increased by the Danish invasion. The recovered part of Mercia was
reduced to the form of a province; we hear no more of even dependent
Kings in Kent and Sussex, but at most of Ealdormen of the King’s
appointment. All England south-west of Watling-Street was fast growing
into a compact and homogeneous kingdom. [Sidenote: Progress of the
West-Saxon power aided by the Danish] And the very fact of the foreign
occupation of the rest of England paved the way for its easier
incorporation with the one kingdom which remained independent. The wars
of Wessex with the Danes of Mercia and Northumberland were wars of quite
another character from the [Sidenote: settlements.] old border strife
between the English inhabitants of the several kingdoms. They were in
the strictest sense national wars, wars of religion and patriotism. The
West-Saxon Kings were, in the eyes of all Englishmen in whatever part of
the island, the champions of the national independence and the national
faith. Their conquests brought with them deliverance from the Danish
yoke, and we therefore find them everywhere welcomed as deliverers by
the subject English population. One or two attempts at a division of the
kingdom[58] show that the old local feelings had not fully died out; but
their ill success shows no less clearly that such divisions no longer
rested on any strong national basis. The successors of Ælfred were
gradually enabled to win back the supremacy established by Ecgberht, and
to enlarge it into an actual sovereignty over all England and an
acknowledged supremacy over all Britain. The kingdom so formed was at
last overcome by a Danish conqueror; but it was overcome by a very
different process from the settlement of this or that wandering pirate.
It was the transfer of the crown of a consolidated English kingdom to
the head of the King of a now no less consolidated kingdom of Denmark.
[Sidenote: 880–893.]
The reign of Ælfred contains two intervals of nearly [Sidenote:
897–901.] perfect peace. After the great deliverance of Wessex
[Sidenote: Later Danish Wars of Ælfred. 893–897.] there was no very
serious warfare with the Danes till quite towards the end of Ælfred’s
life. Then came five years of a struggle almost as fearful as that of
the early days of his reign. But in the end Ælfred and England were
again victorious. During the years of peace Ælfred had seen the need of
forming a naval force to meet the wikings on their own element. It is
wonderful how wholly the old sea-faring spirit of the Angles and Saxons
[Sidenote: Ælfred the founder of the English navy.] seems to have died
out before his time. But both Ælfred and his successors diligently
fostered the naval power of England, alike for war, for commerce, and
for discovery. In short, Ælfred laid the foundations of that naval
greatness which is the special pride of Englishmen. His fleet seems to
have preserved Wessex itself from anything more than a few landings for
plunder. But for three years, Danish invaders, helped by the Danes
settled in the country, marched to and fro through all Britain
[Sidenote: Death of Ælfred. 901.] north of the Thames. But at last
Ælfred succeeded in reducing them at least within the terms of the Peace
of Wedmore, and he again enjoyed a few years of quiet before his death.
[Sidenote: Reign of Eadward the Elder 901–925.]
Ælfred’s successor, Eadward the Elder, completed the work which Ecgberht
had begun, by first extending the supremacy of Wessex over the whole
island of Britain. [Sidenote: Reigns of his sons. 925–955.] Under his
sons, Æthelstan, Eadmund, and Eadred, that supremacy was maintained and
consolidated at the point [Sidenote: Reign of Eadgar. 958–975.] of the
sword. His grandson, Eadgar the Peaceful, enjoyed the fruit of their
labours, and further strengthened their work by a reign of strong and
orderly government, by holding himself in constant readiness for war
during a time, for those days, of most unusual peace. Thus, from
[Sidenote: 800–975.] Ecgberht to Eadgar, it took a hundred and seventy
years to build up the Kingdom of England, a kingdom which, as coming
events showed, could still be conquered, but which could no longer be
permanently divided. The twenty-five years of Eadward are the
turning-point; what he won his successors had only to keep. It is only
[Sidenote: Importance of the reign of Eadward.] the unequalled glory of
his father which has doomed this prince, one of the greatest rulers that
England ever beheld, to a smaller degree of popular fame than he
deserves. His whole reign bears out the panegyric passed on him by an
ancient writer,[59] that he was fully his father’s equal as a warrior
and ruler, and was inferior to him in nothing except those literary
labours which were so peculiarly Ælfred’s own. The work of Eadward was
twofold; he enlarged the borders of his immediate kingdom, and he
brought the whole island under vassalage. His wars, and those of his
three successors, were, it should be remembered, waged mainly against
the Danes settled in Britain. These settlers were sometimes helped by
their brethren from Denmark, and more commonly by the Danes and Northmen
settled in Ireland; but, on the whole, foreign invasions do not form an
important feature in the [Sidenote: Alliance of Æthelwald with the
Danes. 901–905.] events of this half century. The war began when the
Northumbrian Danes took the part of a defeated candidate for the
West-Saxon crown,[60] who did not scruple to accept their alliance, and
to lead them to plunder and attempted conquest against his own
countrymen. But Eadward, when thus put on the defensive, did something
more than merely defend the kingdom which he had received [Sidenote:
Recovery of Mercia, &c. by Eadward and Æthelflæd. 905–922.] from his
father. With the help of his sister Æthelflæd, the famous Lady of the
Mercians, the widow of their Ealdorman Æthelred, he recovered from the
Danish yoke the whole of Mercia, East-Anglia, and Essex, and the brother
and sister secured their conquests by building [Sidenote: Annexation of
Mercia. 922.] fortresses in all directions. By the English population of
all these districts Eadward was welcomed as a deliverer, and he found no
difficulty in annexing the liberated lands to his own kingdom. After the
death of Æthelflæd, who was her brother’s close ally rather than his
subject, the separate being of Mercia came to an end. The whole Mercian
land on both sides of the Watling-Street was [Sidenote: Eadward’s
kingdom extended to the Humber.] incorporated by Eadward with his own
kingdom. He thus became, what no West-Saxon King had been before him,
immediate sovereign of all England south of the Humber. Having thus
extended his immediate dominion beyond all precedent, he was able to
extend his more general supremacy equally beyond anything possessed by
[Sidenote: All the Princes of Britain submit to him. 922–924.] his
predecessors. The princes of Wales, Northumberland, Strathclyde, and
Scotland, all submitted to him by a voluntary act; “they chose him to
father and to lord.”[61] The Welsh and Northumbrian princes only renewed
a homage which they had already paid both to Ecgberht and to Ælfred; but
the relation with Strathclyde and Scotland was new. No warfare with
either country is spoken of; the act of submission seems to have been
made by the free consent of the rulers and people of the two [Sidenote:
Probable causes of their voluntary submission.] Northern kingdoms. The
motive to such an act is doubtless to be found in a dread of Eadward’s
power, combined with a sense of the necessity of his position as the
general champion of Britain against the Danes. Scotland and Strathclyde
had suffered as much from Scandinavian invasions as England had. To
choose the West-Saxon King as their over-lord might involve some
national humiliation, but it was better to receive the champion of
Christendom as an over-lord than to be exposed without defence to the
[Sidenote: Novelty and greatness of his position.] incursions of the
heathen. Eadward thus obtained a far greater extent of dominion than had
been held by Ecgberht himself. Ecgberht’s immediate kingdom stopped at
the Thames, and his over-lordship reached only to the Forth. Eadward’s
immediate kingdom reached to the Humber, and his over-lordship extended
over the whole island. The submission of Scotland and Strathclyde to
Eadward is the most distinctive feature in Eadward’s reign. It was
something which surpassed the greatest exploits of his predecessors. The
Scots had recognized a precarious supremacy in the old Northumbrian
Kings. They had recognized a supremacy yet more precarious still in the
great Frankish Emperor. But their submission to Wessex was wholly new;
the days had long passed when they had bowed to an over-lord at York,
and they had never before bowed to an over-lord at [Sidenote: Vassalage
of Scotland. 924–1328.] Winchester. This _commendation_ of Scotland to
the West-Saxon King is an event so important for the history of the next
four hundred years, and it is an event which is often so completely
misunderstood, that I must reserve some consideration of its exact
bearing for my next Chapter. It is enough to say here that, from this
time to the fourteenth century, the vassalage of Scotland was an
essential part of the public law of the isle of Britain. No doubt many
attempts were made to cast off the dependent relation which had been
voluntarily incurred; but when a King of the English had once been
chosen “to father and to lord,” his successors never willingly gave up
the position which had thus been bestowed upon them. Whenever the King
of the English is strong enough, he always appears as the acknowledged
[Sidenote: 973.] superior of the King of Scots. Kenneth acts the part of
a faithful vassal to Eadgar. Eadward the Confessor, like his nobler
namesakes before and after, acts as superior [Sidenote: 1054.] lord and,
as such, transfers the tributary crown from an [Sidenote: 1072.] usurper
to the lawful heir. When the Norman William had subdued England, he
claimed and received the homage of Scotland as one of the undoubted
rights of the crown [Sidenote: Homage paid for Scotland proper.] which
he had won. And nothing is clearer than that this homage was paid, not
only for Cumberland or Lothian, but for the true kingdom of the Celtic
Picts and Scots. In the days of Eadward and Æthelstan, Lothian was still
English or Danish, an integral part of the kingdom of Northumberland,
and the submission of Strathclyde was the separate act of another
independent prince. The facts are undoubted; they are plain matters of
history, which ought never to be looked at through the medium of
provincial prejudice. The vassalage of Scotland to England is as certain
as the earlier vassalage of Mercia to Wessex; but, for the last hundred
and sixty years, one fact has been of as little practical importance as
the other.
§ 5. _The Imperial Sovereignty of the West-Saxon Kings of the English._
924–975.
Eadward the Elder then was the first prince who could really claim to be
King of the English and Lord of the [Sidenote: Reign of Æthelstan.
925–940.] Isle of Britain. His son Æthelstan added the finishing stroke
to the work of his father, by first making Northumberland [Sidenote:
926.] an integral portion of the realm. He thus became immediate King of
all the Teutonic races in Britain, and superior Lord of all the Celtic
principalities. [Sidenote: Renewal of homage by the vassal Kings. 926.]
In his second year, all the vassal princes, Welsh and Scottish, and the
English prince of Northumberland beyond the Tyne,[62] renewed their
homage. It is expressly mentioned that they renounced all idolatry; many
of the Danes no doubt still clave to their ancient worship. But
Æthelstan had to fight to retain the empire which his father had won.
Neither Danes, Welsh, nor Scots were very faithful vassals; but the
power of the King of the [Sidenote: 933.] English was too much for them
all. Scotland was ravaged by land and sea; Wales was constrained not
only to homage but to tribute. At last the rebellious Danes and their
kinsmen from Ireland who came to their help, together with Constantine
of Scotland and Owen of Strathclyde, who did not scruple to league
themselves with the [Sidenote: Battle of Brunanburh. 937.] heathen
barbarians, were all overthrown by Æthelstan and his brother Eadmund in
the glorious fight of Brunanburh. That fight, looked on at the time as
the hardest victory that Angles and Saxons had ever won, still lives in
the earliest and noblest of those national lays with which the
Chronicles, especially at this period,[63] relieve the direct [Sidenote:
Foreign connexions of Æthelstan.] course of their prose narrative. The
reign of this great prince is also remarkable for the brilliant position
which England now held with regard to foreign countries. Contrary to the
usual custom of English Kings, Æthelstan, himself childless,
systematically formed family connexions with the chief powers of Europe.
His numerous sisters [Sidenote: [Marriage 929. Otto King, 936. Emperor,
962.]] were married to a crowd of princes, ranging in dignity from
Sihtric, the momentary King of the Northumbrians, to Otto, who placed
his English wife on the throne of the East-Franks and who lived to be
the restorer of the Roman Empire. With some degree of exaggeration of
the real facts, the court of “glorious Æthelstan” is painted to us as
the common refuge of oppressed princes and as the school where the
scions of royalty learned the lessons which befitted kings and warriors.
But putting aside glories which are at least partly fabulous, it is
certain that the reign of Æthelstan was a time of vigorous government
and successful warfare at home, and that in his days England had an
unusual amount of connexion with foreign countries, and enjoyed an
unusual amount of consideration among them.[64] The reigns of his two
[Sidenote: Reigns of Eadmund and Eadred. 940–955.] younger brothers,
Eadmund the Magnificent and Eadred the Excellent,[65] form a
continuation of the same tale. The Northumbrian Danes were constantly
revolting, constantly setting up kings of their own, and they were as
constantly brought back to submission by the superior power of the
[Sidenote: Final submission of Northumberland. 954.] Emperor[66] of
Britain. At last, under Eadred, the rebellious land was finally subdued,
the last phantom of Northumbrian royalty vanished, and the whole land
beyond the Humber was for the future ruled by Earls of the King’s
appointment. Another success, hardly less valuable, [Sidenote: Final
recovery of the Five Boroughs. 941.] was the final recovery of the Five
Boroughs by Eadmund; a poetical entry in the Chronicles vividly paints
the delight of their English inhabitants at their [Sidenote: Period of
friendly relations with Scotland. 937–1000.] deliverance from the yoke
of their heathen masters.[67] The relations of Scotland to the Imperial
power seem, after the great defeat of Brunanburh, to have remained
friendly for many years. Several Scottish Kings in succession had the
wisdom to avoid following the suicidal policy of Constantine. Indeed the
Scottish King Malcolm received a considerable extension of territory at
the hands of Eadmund. The Kingdom of Strathclyde was conquered and
abolished, and part of it, under the name of Cumberland, [Sidenote:
Grant of Cumberland to Malcolm. 945.] was granted by Eadmund to Malcolm,
on the usual tenure of faithful service in war.[68] This principality
remained for a long time the apanage of the heirs-apparent of the
Scottish crown, much as Kent had been to Wessex in the [Sidenote: 946.]
days of Ecgberht and Æthelwulf. That the Scots renewed their oaths on
the accession of Eadred is no proof of hostile feelings on either side;
it was merely an usual and necessary precaution at the beginning of a
new reign, doubly necessary when Northumberland was in rebellion. The
work begun by Ecgberht was now finally accomplished. The King of the
West-Saxons had grown step by step into the acknowledged King of the
English and Emperor of the Isle of Albion. A time now came when it
seemed for a moment that that work was about to be undone, and that the
blow was struck in the very hearth and home of the English Empire. For a
moment Wessex and Mercia were again divided. The events of the next
reign are recorded with a singular amount of contradiction,[69] and the
voice to which we should have listened with undoubting [Sidenote:
Succession of Eadwig in Wessex and Eadgar in Mercia. 955.] confidence is
all but silent.[70] But as far as can be made out, the two young sons of
Eadmund succeeded their uncle Eadred, the elder, Eadwig, reigning in
Wessex as superior lord, while the younger, Eadgar, reigned as
Under-king north of the Thames. From the stirring tale of an Empire
saved, consolidated, and defended by the unwearied efforts of six wise
and valiant monarchs, we turn to find ourselves involved in the thick of
an ecclesiastical controversy. [Sidenote: Dunstan. 925–988.] Dunstan, a
name known to too many readers only as the subject of one of the
silliest of monastic legends, stands forth as the leading man in Church
and State. As the minister of Eadred and of Eadgar, as the Jehoiada or
[Sidenote: Character of his policy.] Seneca who watched over the still
harmless childhood of the second Æthelred, Dunstan is entitled to
lasting and honourable renown. The ecclesiastical changes which are
commonly connected with his name, but which perhaps rather belong to
contemporary prelates like Oda of Canterbury and Æthelwald of
Winchester, are of a more doubtful character. To bring back the monks to
the observance of their rule, to raise the character of the secular
clergy, often no doubt ignorant and worthless enough, were thoroughly
praiseworthy undertakings. But the complete prohibition of clerical
marriage, the substitution of regulars for seculars in many of the
cathedral and other chief churches of England, were certainly the works
of a zeal which had far outrun discretion. And these measures had also
the effect of dividing the nation into two parties, and of producing an
amount of mutual hostility which might well have led to even greater
evils than it did lead to. The whole of the short reign of Eadwig is
shrouded in mystery; but it is clear that he was the enemy of Dunstan,
perhaps to some extent the enemy of the monks generally, and it is
certain that he was the vigorous opponent of the policy which strove
everywhere to substitute monks for secular [Sidenote: 956.] canons. The
banishment of Dunstan, combined with an uncanonical marriage, seems to
have roused popular feeling against a prince on whose real merits we are
hardly in a [Sidenote: Eadgar chosen King of the Mercians. 957.]
position to pronounce a judgement. The Mercians chose their Under-king
Eadgar King in his own right, and in his separate dominions Dunstan was
recalled and his policy vigorously carried out. The death of Eadwig soon
followed, [Sidenote: Eadgar succeeds to the whole kingdom. 958–975.] and
the Kingdom of England and the Empire of all Britain were again united
under the sceptre of Eadgar the Peaceful. His reign of seventeen years
is a period of almost unbroken peace; we hear, almost unavoidably, of
wars with the Welsh, of moment enough to be recorded by Welsh
chroniclers, but which the English writers pass by.[71] Of Danish
invasions we hear nothing for certain; but Westmoreland, a part of the
Cumbrian fief of the Scottish [Sidenote: 966.] King, was once ravaged,
seemingly by Eadgar’s orders,[72] [Sidenote: 958] and we hear also more
distinctly of a portion of Eadgar’s own kingdom, the Isle of Thanet,
being treated in the like way at his bidding. These last facts point to
some local [Sidenote: His peaceful and vigorous government.] revolts or
disturbances.[73] With these exceptions, weapons of war seem to have
hung useless throughout the English dominions for a time which, short as
it seems to us, was in those days a wonderfully long interval of repose.
But if Eadgar’s sword hung useless, it at least did not rust. Eadgar,
like Ælfred, knew how to guard his Empire, and a fleet which yearly
sailed round the whole island, and which often carried the King in
person, was a sufficient [Sidenote: His effective supremacy over all
Britain.] safeguard of Britain against foreign foes. And no West-Saxon
Basileus ever made his supremacy so fully felt by all the races of the
island as the one West-Saxon Basileus who never drew his sword against a
Scottish or Northumbrian enemy. After a single inroad early in his
reign,[74] Kenneth of Scotland remained on good terms with his
over-lord, and, according to some statements, Eadgar even increased his
dominions by a most important grant of territory.[75] To the Danes of
Northumberland he was anxious to show that he had no mind to deal with
them as with a conquered people, and that he remembered their services
in helping to raise him to the crown.[76] In his legislation he takes
care to assert their perfect equality with the English and their right
to be governed only by laws of their own choosing.[77] He delighted in
pomp and splendour, and there seems no reason to doubt the historic
truth of the tale of that famous pageant in which [Sidenote: 973.] the
Emperor of Britain was rowed on the Dee by eight vassal kings.[78] But
if the tale were only a symbolical expression, it would still be a most
true and speaking symbol of the days of the greatest glory and
prosperity of [Sidenote: He encourages intercourse with foreign
countries.] the West-Saxon Empire. Under Eadgar too England held a high
place in the estimation of foreign lands, and intercourse with them,
commercial and otherwise, was carefully promoted by his enlightened
policy.[79] In ecclesiastical matters the party of the regulars was
steadily favoured. This fact may perhaps have won for Eadgar more than
his due share of praise at the hands of monastic writers. But
exaggeration itself cannot obscure the real glory of such a reign as
his.[80]
[Sidenote: Reign of Eadward the Martyr. 975–979.]
But with Eadgar the glory of England sank. The reign of his elder son
Eadward was short and troubled, and the young prince himself died by
violence, most probably through the intrigues of an ambitious
step-mother. [Sidenote: Reign of Æthelred the Unready. 979–1016.] He was
succeeded by his brother Æthelred, a child, and one who would have been
happy if he had always remained a child. In his time the Danish
invasions began again, in a new form and with a more terrible effect
than ever. In his time too begins that direct and intimate connexion
between English and Norman history which shows that we are now
approaching the days of the Norman Conquest, and that we have reached
the first links in the chain of its direct causes. The reign of Æthelred
will therefore claim a somewhat fuller treatment than that of a
preliminary sketch.
[Sidenote: Recapitulation.]
We have thus traced out the steps by which the West-Saxon Kings, from
Ecgberht onwards, founded that Kingdom of England which one conquest was
to hand over to the King of the Danes and another conquest to the Duke
of the Normans, but which was never again to be permanently divided, and
which each conquest only served to unite more firmly. We have seen also
how, along with the consolidation of their Teutonic kingdom, the same
West-Saxon princes obtained a more extended and more precarious Empire
over their Celtic neighbours. The later fate of the various Celtic
portions of Britain has been widely different. In Cumberland no sign is
left, and in Cornwall not many, that the dominion of the English King
was once that of an external over-lord and not that [Sidenote: Union of
Wales; [1293. 1536. 1830.]] of an immediate sovereign. On Wales the
English dominion was pressed closer and closer, till all political and
civil distinctions between Wales and England were wiped out, though the
ancient language, and with it a distinct [Sidenote: of Scotland; [1328.
1707.]] and strong provincial feeling, still remains. Scotland, after
various fluctuations, at last won complete independence of the English
over-lord, and was finally united with England on equal terms as an
independent kingdom. [Sidenote: Man still distinct.] Strange to say, the
little realm of Man is the only part of the Empire of Eadgar which is
not now thoroughly fused into the general mass of the United
Kingdom.[81] But different as has been the later fate of the various
portions of the dominions of Eadgar, his Teutonic Kingdom and his Celtic
Empire both passed nearly untouched into the hands of the Norman
Conqueror. In another preliminary Chapter I shall attempt a general
picture of the condition and constitution of the Kingdom and Empire
which were thus transferred. I shall then give some account of the
history of Normandy up to the point which I have now reached in the
history of England. I shall then be ready to go on with the more
detailed history of the Norman Conquest itself and of the causes which
immediately led to it, beginning with the reign of Æthelred the Second.
CHAPTER III.
THE CONSTITUTION OF ENGLAND IN THE TENTH AND ELEVENTH CENTURIES.[82]
I have no intention whatever of entering, in the present Chapter, into
any examination of the minute details of our early English legal
antiquities, still less into the controversies to which many points
relating to them have given rise. I wish merely to give such a sketch of
the political condition of England, at the time when England and
Normandy began to influence each other’s affairs, as may make the
narrative of their mutual intercourse intelligible. [Sidenote: The
Old-English constitution survived the Norman Conquest.] What the
constitution was under Eadgar, that it remained under William. This
assertion must be taken with all the practical drawbacks which are
involved in the forcible transfer of the crown to a foreign dynasty, and
in the division of the greater part of the lands of the kingdom among
the followers of the foreign King. But the constitution remained the
same; the laws, with a few changes in detail, remained the same; the
language of public documents remained the same. The powers which were
vested in King William and his Witan remained constitutionally the same
as those which had been vested in King Eadgar and his Witan a hundred
years before. [Sidenote: The changes immediately following on the
Conquest practical, not formal.] The change in the social condition of
the country, the change in the spirit of the national and local
administration, the change in the relation of the kingdom to foreign
lands, were changes as great as words can express. The practical effect
of these changes was a vast increase of the royal power, and the
introduction of wholly new relations between the King and every class of
his subjects. But formal constitutional change there was none. I cannot
too often repeat, for the saying is the very summing up of the whole
history, that the Norman Conquest was not the wiping out of the
constitution, the laws, the language, the national life of Englishmen.
The changes which distinguish the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries
from the [Sidenote: Various causes of the ultimate results of the
Conquest.] tenth and eleventh are not owing to any one cause. Many of
them are merely the natural results of altered circumstances. Many of
them are the work of lawgivers legislating for a new state of things,
and, in not a few cases, confirming or restoring ancient English
institutions under foreign names. Many of them are due to the ingenuity
of lawyers whose minds were full of theories of law wholly alien to the
principles of ancient English jurisprudence. All these changes were in
some sort the final results of the Conquest. Some of them were actually
caused by the Conquest; others were hastened by it. But of very few
[Sidenote: Change in the monarchy from the old Teutonic to the later
mediæval type.] indeed was it the direct and immediate cause. The
English kingship gradually changed from a kingship of the old Teutonic
type into a kingship of the later mediæval type. The change began before
the Norman Conquest; it was hastened by the Norman Conquest; but it was
not completed till long after the Norman Conquest. Such a change was
not, and could not be, the work of one man or of one generation. But
English kingship, like the other main features of the English polity,
may be said to have fully put on its later form when the absent Edward
was proclaimed in the place of his father, when the King was for the
first time held to reign before he had received the rite which clothed
him with the kingly office.
§ 1. _Origin of the Old-English Kingship._
[Sidenote: Question proposed, Origin and nature of the ancient English
Kingship.]
What then was the nature, and what was the origin, of that kingship,
which the election—the constrained and unwilling election, but still the
election—of the Witan of all England did, on Midwinter-day, eight
hundred years back,[83] entrust to William, Duke of the Normans—from
that day forward William, King of the English? That election transferred
to him the same internal power over his own kingdom, the same external
power over the dependent kingdoms, which had been held by Eadgar and
Æthelred, and which an earlier forced election of a foreign conqueror
had transferred to the hands of Cnut the Dane. [Sidenote: Summary of the
growth of Wessex.] We have already traced the course of the events by
which those powers, internal and external, grew up. Two Saxon chiefs,
_Ealdormen_ or _Heretogan_, formed a settlement on the [Sidenote: 495.]
south coast of Britain. After some years of successful [Sidenote: 519.]
warfare, they assumed the kingly title over their own tribe.[84] One of
their successors incorporated some of the [Sidenote: 823–828.] other
Teutonic kingdoms with his own realm, and obtained an external supremacy
over all the other Teutons in the island and over a portion of the
Celts. A series of his [Sidenote: 878–954.] successors, after long
struggles, incorporated all the Teutonic states into one kingdom, and
obtained an external Empire over all the Celtic states. The Ealdorman of
the Gewissas thus gradually grew into the King of the West-Saxons, the
King of the Saxons,[85] the King of the English, the Emperor of all
Britain. The external aspect of this process, the dates of its several
stages, I have already marked. I must now dwell a little longer on the
real origin and nature of the various powers implied in those different
descriptions of the ruler. Each stage marks an advance in the extent of
territorial dominion; each stage marks also an advance in the amount of
political authority enjoyed by the sovereign.
[Sidenote: Modern political controversies alien to the question.]
In following up these researches into our earliest political antiquities
it is absolutely necessary to cast away all thoughts of modern political
controversies. Time was when the whole fabric of our liberties was held
to depend on the exact nature of the entry made by William the Bastard.
Time was when supporters and opponents of parliamentary reform thought
to strengthen their several positions by opposite theories as to the
constitution of the Witenagemót. To this day a popular orator will
sometimes think that he adds point to a declamation by bringing in Saxon
Ælfred as the author of Trial by Jury, perhaps of every other privilege
which other lands are held either not to possess or to have borrowed
from ourselves. Every notion of this kind must be wholly cast away, if
we would fairly and impartially learn what the institutions of our
Teutonic forefathers really were. The lover of freedom certainly need
not shrink from the inquiry. [Sidenote: The present shape of our
political institutions not to be looked for in early times,] He will not
indeed find that the finished systems of the nineteenth or of the
seventeenth century were brought over ready made in the keels of Hengest
and Horsa. He will not even find that they appeared in their perfect
form in the Imperial Witenagemót of Eadgar the Peaceful. He will not
find the legislative authority vested in a representative assembly to
which every shire and borough sends the men of its choice. He will not
find a King the freedom of whose will is at once hampered and protected
by the tutelage of ministers responsible to that representative
assembly. He will not find tribunals in which issues of law are
determined by Judges independent alike of King and people, while issues
of fact are determined by the people themselves in the form of jurors
taken at haphazard from among them. Not one of these things will he find
in the finished shape in which he is familiar [Sidenote: but the germs
of later institutions may be traced from the beginning.] with them. But
he will find the first principles from which all of them were derived;
he will find the germs out of which all of them were developed. He will
not find the relations of King, Lords, and Commons accurately balanced
in the first Teutonic settlement on the shores of Kent. But he will find
the rudiments of all three in days which were ancient in the days of
Hengest. Let him go as far back as history or tradition throws any light
on the institutions of our race, and he will find the germs alike of the
monarchic, the aristocratic, and the democratic [Sidenote: Necessity of
comparison with other Teutonic nations.] branches of our constitution.
When positive evidence within our own land fails us, we must go for
illustration and explanation, not to the facts, the theories, the
controversies, of modern politics, but to the kindred institutions of
the kindred nations of the mainland. Our Parliament is the true and
lawful representative, by true and lawful succession, of the ancient
Meeting of the Wise; but, if we would search out the origin and
constitution of that Meeting of the Wise, we must go, not to the
parliamentary traditions of the last six hundred years, but to the
_Marzfeld_ of the Frankish Kings, to the _Landesgemeinden_ of Schwyz and
Uri, to those yet earlier assemblies which still rise before us in full
life in the pages of the first inquirer into the habits and institutions
of our [Sidenote: Records of Teutonic Law from Tacitus onwards.] race.
From the _Germania_ of Tacitus onwards, through the Barbaric Codes,
through the Capitularies of the Frankish Kings and Emperors, through the
records of our own insular legislation from the Dooms of Æthelberht to
the so-called Laws of Henry the First, we have a series of witnesses,
showing what were the general principles of Teutonic law, and what were
the particular forms which it took in particular times and places. In
truth we may go beyond the records of our own immediate race. The early
history of the Teuton is constantly illustrated by [Sidenote: Analogies
with the Homeric Achaians.] the early history of his Aryan kinsmen, and
the living picture of the old Achaians of Homer brings vividly before us
many an institution of our own forefathers and many an incident of their
early history.
[Sidenote: Origin of Teutonic kingship.]
The sketch which has been given in the last Chapter has shown that the
Imperial lordship of all Britain, as held by Æthelstan and his
successors, and even the supremacy of Wessex over the other English
kingdoms, as established by Ecgberht, were institutions of comparatively
late growth. But it must not be thought that even the full-grown local
kingship, such as we find it held by Æthelberht in Kent and by Eadwine
in Northumberland, was a thing which had been from the beginning. In the
days of Tacitus some of the Teutonic tribes had kings and [Sidenote:
Kingship not universal; government by Ealdormen or Heretogan.] others
had not; in the time of Cæsar it would seem that kingship was the
exception and not the rule.[86] The chieftains of the first settlers in
our own island bore no higher title than _Ealdorman_ or _Heretoga_.
These two names express two different sides of the same office. The same
man is Ealdorman as a civil ruler and Heretoga as a military chieftain.
The former name survives in our [Sidenote: Force and history of the
names.] language, but with sadly diminished dignity; the title which
once expressed a rank which, among worldly dignities, was inferior to
kingship alone, has taken refuge with a class of municipal magistrates,
reaching downwards to the pettiest boroughs. The other name, always much
more rarely in use, has dropped altogether out of our tongue, while,
among the continental Teutons, the cognate word _Herzog_ expresses a
dignity the distinction between which and modern kingship must be drawn
by the courtier and not by the politician. The name of Ealdorman is one
of a large class; among a primitive people age implies command and
command implies age; hence, in a somewhat later stage of language, the
_elders_ are simply the rulers, and the _eldest_ are the highest in
rank, without any thought of the number of years which they may really
have lived. [Sidenote: Import of the change from Ealdormen to Kings.] It
is not perfectly clear in what the authority or dignity of the King
exceeded that of the Ealdorman, but it is clear that the title of King
did carry with it an advance in both respects. Even the smallest kingdom
was probably formed by the union of the districts of several Ealdormen.
It is probable too that the King was distinguished by some religious
sanction of heathen times, analogous to the ecclesiastical consecration
which in later times the Church bestowed on kings, but not on princes of
lower rank. It is certain that kingship required descent from the Gods;
it may be that no such divine origin was [Sidenote: Instances in Britain
and elsewhere.] needed by the mere Ealdorman. At all events, we find the
change from Ealdorman to Kings taking place in more than one kingdom of
Teutonic Britain, as well as among many of the kindred tribes on the
mainland. We have already seen that the kingdoms of Northumberland and
East-Anglia were formed by the union of several smaller [Sidenote: The
West-Saxon Ealdormen become Kings. 495–519.] states whose rulers did not
assume the royal title.[87] In Wessex the account is still more
remarkable. Cerdic and Cynric entered the land with the title of
Ealdorman; they did not assume kingship till after the arrival of fresh
reinforcements, and till a decisive victory over the Welsh had
strengthened their position in the country. During the whole period
commonly called that of the Heptarchy the whole land was full of petty
princes, some of whom undoubtedly bore the title of King, though others
may have [Sidenote: Alleged return of Wessex to ealdormanship. 673–685.]
reigned simply as Ealdormen. According to one account, the West-Saxons,
as late as the seventh century, were for ten years without any common
sovereign, while the Ealdormen or Under-kings reigned independently.
This falling back on an older system has its parallels; there is one
noted case in Lombard history; but it would be specially remarkable in a
kingdom which had, from the beginning, greater [Sidenote: Distinction
between King and Ealdorman from Ecgberht onwards.] unity than most of
its fellows. But at least from the time of Ecgberht onwards there is a
marked distinction between the King and the Ealdorman. The King is a
sovereign, the Ealdorman is only a magistrate. The King may be hampered
in the exercise of his power by the rights of his people or by the joint
action of the great men of his realm; he may be chosen by his Witan and
he may be liable to be deposed by them; still he is a sovereign,
inasmuch as he does not rule by delegation from any personal superior.
[Sidenote: Distinction between the Ealdorman and the dependent King.] He
may even be, by original grant or more probably by _commendation_,
dependent on some more powerful King; but even such dependence does not
degrade him from his sovereign rank. His relation to his over-lord binds
him to certain external services, but in his internal government he
remains perfectly independent, with his power limited only by the laws
of his own realm. But the Ealdorman has become distinctly a subject. He
may hold the fullest royal power within his own district; he may be the
descendant of former Ealdormen and even of former Kings; he may have a
reasonable hope that he may hand on his dignity to his own children;
still he is not a sovereign, but a subject. The King is supreme; the
Ealdorman is simply sent by him. He is a Viceroy appointed by the King
and his Witan; he is liable to be removed by them, and he is responsible
to them for the exercise of his [Sidenote: Position of Ealdorman
Æthelred in Mercia. 880–912.] authority. When the kingdom of Mercia was
broken up, Ælfred entrusted the government of the part which fell to his
share to his son-in-law Æthelred as Ealdorman. Æthelred was a man of
royal descent; he exercised full royal power in Mercia; but he exercised
it simply as a Governor General or Lord Lieutenant, the representative
of a sovereign whose higher authority he carefully acknowledges
[Sidenote: Case of Northumberland. 954.] in his charters.[88] So, when
Northumberland was finally incorporated with England under Eadred,
kingship was abolished, and the government was entrusted to a magistrate
with the title of Ealdorman or its Danish [Sidenote: Contrary process in
the Empire.] equivalent Earl.[89] By the exactly contrary process,
Princes of the Empire, Dukes—that is, Ealdormen or Heretogan—and not
only Dukes, but Counts, Margraves, Landgraves, all of them originally
mere magistrates under the Emperor-King, have gradually grown into
sovereign princes, and have at last, in several cases, ventured to
assume the kingly title.[90]
[Sidenote: Title of King (Cyning); its origin.]
The mere title of _King_ seems to be comparatively recent among the
Teutonic nations. It is not found in the earliest Teutonic prose
writing, the Gothic Gospels; but in our own language it seems to be as
old as the English settlements in Britain. Most of the questions which
have arisen as to the etymology of the word only show how modern a thing
scientific etymology is.[91] _Cyning_, by contraction _King_, comes from
the same root as the word _cyn_ or _kin_. And the connexion is not
without an important meaning. The King is the representative of the
race, [Sidenote: The Teutonic kingship national, not territorial.] the
embodiment of its national being. A King, in the old Teutonic sense, is
not the King of a country, but the King of a nation. Such titles as King
of England or King of France are comparatively modern, and the idea
which they express is equally so.[92] The Teutonic King is not the lord
of the soil, but the leader of the people. The idea of the King of a
country would have been hardly intelligible to our forefathers. Every
King is King of a people. He is King of Goths, Franks, Saxons, wherever
Goths, Franks, Saxons, may happen to settle. The Goths and their Kings
moved from the Danube to the Tiber, and from the Tiber to the Tagus; but
Alaric and Athaulf were equally Kings of the Goths, in whatever quarter
of the world the Goths might be. So in our own island, the King is King
of the West-Saxons, Mercians, or Northumbrians. [Sidenote: No names for
the English kingdoms as distinguished from the people.] In truth the
countries themselves, as distinguished from their inhabitants, can
hardly be said to have any names. We talk for convenience’ sake of
Wessex, Mercia, and so forth; but the correct description is the Kingdom
of the West-Saxons, the Kingdom of the Mercians. [Sidenote: The King is
King of the English (not of England), but Emperor of Britain.] So, when
the West-Saxon King had swallowed up all his brethren, he became, not
King of England, but King of the English. It is only in their Imperial
character, in their character, not as chiefs of a nation, but as lords
over all the dwellers within the isle of Britain, that our Kings ever
assume the territorial description. Indeed [Sidenote: Name of England
hardly known.] England itself has hardly yet found a geographical name.
_Englaland_ is a late form, scarcely found before the Danish Conquest.
The common name for the land is the name of the people, _Angel-cyn_.[93]
[Sidenote: Growth of the kingly power by mere extension of territory.]
The King’s power and dignity gradually grew. They grew by the mere
extension of his dominions. The larger a prince’s territory becomes, the
greater is the distance at which he finds himself from the mass of his
subjects. He becomes more and more clothed with a sort of mysterious
dignity; he comes to be more and more looked upon as something different
from ordinary men, even from ordinary civil magistrates and military
leaders. The prince of a small territory is known to all his people; he
is, according to the character of his government, their personal friend
or their personal enemy; if worthy himself and the descendant of worthy
ancestors, he may command a strong feeling of clannish loyalty, but he
cannot hedge himself in with the fence of any special divinity. A King
who reigns over all Wessex is, in the nature of things, more of a
King[94] than one who reigns only over Wight, and a King who reigns over
all England is more of a King than one who reigns only over Wessex.
Through this cause only, every fresh addition of territory added fresh
power and dignity to the Kings of the House of Cerdic in their progress
from the ealdormanship of a corner of Hampshire to the Imperial crown of
the Isle of Britain. But this cause was by no means the only one. The
growth of the royal power was greatly helped by another cause, fully to
understand which we must go back to the very earliest accounts which we
have of the political [Sidenote: Two elements in Teutonic political
life, the free Community and the _Comitatus_.] institutions of the
Teutonic race. From the very beginning of our history two opposing
elements may be seen, one of which in the end gained the complete
mastery over the other. The one is the original self-governing Teutonic
community; the other is the King or other lord with his personal
following.[95]
§ 2. _The Early Teutonic Constitution and its Decay._
[Sidenote: The Teutonic Free Community; its monarchic, aristocratic, and
democratic elements.]
I said above that, in the very earliest glimpses of Teutonic political
life, we find the monarchic, the aristocratic, and the democratic
elements already clearly marked. There are leaders, with or without the
royal title; there are men of noble birth, whose noble birth, in
whatever the original nobility may have consisted, entitles them to
pre-eminence in every way; but beyond these there is a free and armed
people, in whom the ultimate sovereignty resides. Small matters are
decided by the chiefs alone, great matters are submitted by the chiefs
to the assembled nation.[96] Such a system is far more than Teutonic; it
[Sidenote: Analogy of the Homeric Achaians,] is a common Aryan
possession; it is the constitution of the Homeric Achaians on earth and
of the Homeric Gods on Olympos. Zeus or Agamemnôn is King; he has his
inner Council of great Gods or of great leaders; he has his general
Assembly of all the divine race or of all the [Sidenote: and the
historical Macedonians.] warriors who fought before Ilios.[97] The
constitution of legendary Hellas remained the constitution of historical
Macedonia; the assembly of the Macedonian nation—in war-time of the
Macedonian army—remained, even under Philip and Alexander, the
constitutional authority to decide on questions of succession to the
throne and the tribunal in which was vested the power of adjudging a
[Sidenote: The system a natural one in a small state.] Macedonian to
death.[98] In short, the division of powers between the supreme leader,
the Council, and the general Assembly, is the form into which the
government of a small state or independent tribe almost necessarily
throws itself. The hereditary prince and the aristocratic council may be
exchanged for an elective chief magistrate and an elective council; but
the division of powers remains the same, and in either case the ultimate
sovereignty remains in the general Assembly, in the _Agorê_, the
_Ekklêsia_, the _Comitia_, the _Marzfeld_, the _Landesgemeinde_. Of the
nature and functions of such an assembly I shall have presently to
speak, when I trace out the origin and nature of the Old-English
Witenagemót. My present point is the distinction [Sidenote: Distinction
of _Eorl_ and _Ceorl_.] of orders in the state. Tacitus sets before us a
marked distinction between the noble and the common freeman, that is, in
Old-English phrase, between the _Eorl_ and the _Ceorl_. The modern
English forms of these words have altogether lost their ancient meaning.
The word _Earl_, after several fluctuations, has settled down as the
title of one rank in the peerage; the word _Churl_ has come to be a word
of moral reprobation, irrespective of the rank of the person who is
guilty of the offence. But in the earlier meaning of the words, _Eorl_
and _Ceorl_—words whose happy jingle causes them to be constantly
opposed to each other—form an exhaustive division of the free members of
the state. The distinction in modern language is most nearly expressed
by the words _Gentle_ and _Simple_. The ceorl is the simple freeman, the
mere unit in the army or in the assembly, whom no distinction of birth
or office marks out from his fellows. It must not be forgotten that,
among the ancient English, as among all other Teutonic nations, the
system of slavery was in full force. The ceorl therefore, like the
ancient Greek citizen, though he might be looked down upon by an
aristocratic class, was actually a privileged person as compared with a
large number of human beings in his own city or district.[99] The origin
of the distinction it is in vain to search after; the difference of the
eorl and the ceorl is a primary fact from which we start; it is as old
as the earliest notices of Teutonic institutions, and the only attempt
at its explanation is to be found in an ingenious mythical story in a
Northern saga.[100] Nor is it very easy to see in what the privileges of
the eorl consisted, or how far they were secured by definite laws.
[Sidenote: Analogy of the democratic Cantons of Switzerland.] Perhaps we
may gain some light by looking at those communities which have preserved
the old Teutonic system of government with the least alteration, the
democratic [Sidenote: Traditional predominance of certain families.]
Cantons of Switzerland.[101] There, amid the purest democracy in the
world, where every adult freeman has a direct and equal vote in the
Assembly, we still find that certain families, enjoying no legal
privileges above their fellows, were long held in a kind of hereditary
reverence, and that members of those families were preferred above all
others to the highest offices in the state. Such were the houses of
Reding in Schwyz, of Tschudi in Glarus, of the Barons of Attinghausen in
Uri. The office of Landammann, the chief magistracy of the commonwealth,
conferred by the yearly vote of the Landesgemeinde, commonly fell to the
lot of members of these great houses; the same man was constantly
re-elected year after year, and, when he died, [Sidenote: Comparison of
old county families among ourselves.] his son was often elected in his
place. Or without going so far from home, we may see what is essentially
the same thing in the position of old county families, holding no legal
advantages above their fellows, but which still enjoy an hereditary
respect and preference at their hands. The eorl and the ceorl in fact
answer pretty nearly to the esquire and the yeoman;[102] the modern
artificial peerage is something quite different, and we shall presently
perhaps see its beginnings.
[Sidenote: The territory or _Mark_ of the Community.]
The primitive Teutonic community is thus set before us as one consisting
of eorls and ceorls, headed by a King, Ealdorman, or other leader,
temporary or permanent, elective or hereditary. Such a community
occupies its own territory, its _Mark_,[103] which territory consists of
land of two kinds. There is the common land, either applied to the
general use of the community or else held by individuals on such terms
as the community, in its character of landowner, may think good to
allow. There are also the particular possessions of individuals,
portions assigned to them by common consent, which are the absolute
property of their owners, held of no superior, but simply subject to
such burthens as the community, in its political character, may think
good to impose on its members. All this again is in no way distinctively
Teutonic; it is the story of the ancient commonwealths of Greece and
Italy over again. [Sidenote: _Folkland_ or _Ager Publicus_.] The
_folkland_[104] of England and the _ager publicus_ of Rome are the same
thing. The English and the Latin names translate one another; they both
describe the land which still belongs to the community as a body, and of
which individuals cannot be more than the occupiers.[105] The whole
history of the Roman Agrarian Laws, so long misunderstood, turns simply
on the regulation of this common land of the state. In the time of Cæsar
it would seem that the whole territory of a Teutonic community was
_folkland_; individuals could obtain no right in it beyond that of a
yearly tenancy.[106] But the custom of allotting portions of the common
stock in absolute property gradually advanced. A conquest like that of
Britain would be highly favourable to the growth of the practice. When a
band of Teutonic warriors took possession of a district and slew or
dispossessed its former inhabitants, we cannot doubt that, besides
[Sidenote: Allodial property, _eðel_ or _odal_.] the stock reserved as
common property, each man who had borne his share in the labours and
dangers of the conquest would claim his reward in the absolute ownership
of some portion of the conquered territory. The eorls, who would
doubtless act as the leaders of the expedition, may well have received a
larger allotment; but we may be sure that no freeman bearing arms went
altogether without some share of the spoil. Such an allotment in
absolute property, held of no superior, subject to nothing but the laws
of the state, is called in different Teutonic dialects _eðel_, _odal_,
or _alod_. It is an estate, great or small, which the owner does not
hold either of the King or of any other lord, but in regard to which he
knows no superior but God and the law.
These communities of freemen, among whom some had a pre-eminence in
rank, and doubtless in wealth, but among [Sidenote: The primitive
democracy gives way to the institution of] whom every freeman was a
member of the state, form one of the elements of Teutonic life as we see
it in its very earliest pictures. But those same pictures set no less
strongly before us another element, which grew up alongside of the
primitive democracy, and which was destined in the long run to supplant
it more or less completely in nearly every Teutonic country. The ancient
Teutonic community can now be seen in its purity only in a few of the
smallest Swiss Cantons, and in several even of these[107] the ancient
freedom had to be reconquered and was not uninterruptedly retained.
Everywhere else it is as much as we can do to trace out some faint
footsteps of the ancient system, such as we see in common lands, in some
forms of communal institutions, in petty and half obsolete local
[Sidenote: the _Comitatus_, the personal following of the Chiefs.]
tribunals. The thing itself has given way to the other institution
described by Tacitus, the _Comitatus_, the personal following of the
chiefs. Every Teutonic King or other leader was surrounded by a band of
chosen warriors, personally attached to him of their own free
choice.[108] The chief and his followers were bound together by the
strongest ties of mutual trust, and a lack of faithfulness on either
side was reckoned among the most shameful of crimes. The followers
served their chief in peace and in war; they fought for him to the
death, and rescued or avenged his [Sidenote: Nature of the relation.]
life with their own. In return, they shared whatever gifts or honours
the chief could distribute among them; and in our tongue at least it was
his character of dispenser of [Sidenote: The _Hlaford_ and his
_Gesiðas_.] gifts which gave the chief his official title. He was the
_Hlaford_, the _Loaf-giver_,[109] a name which, through a series of
softenings and contractions, and with an utter forgetfulness of its
primitive meaning, has settled down into the modern form of _Lord_. His
followers were originally his _Gesiðas_ or _Companions_, a word which
Ælfred uses to express the Latin _Comes_, but which must have dropped
out of use [Sidenote: Origin of _Þegnas_ (Thanes).] very early, as it is
not found in the Chronicles. The _Gesið_ or _Companion_ became the
_Þegn_ (_Thegn_, _Thane_) or _Servant_, a change of name which might
seem to imply a lowering of the nature of the relation, and which
perhaps in a manner did so.[110] As Kings grew in power and dominion, it
was not unnatural that a certain element of servility should find its
way into the relation of the _Comitatus_, of which there is no trace in
the primitive shape of that institution. The service of the King or
other great lord conferred dignity even on the freeman. This is a notion
altogether foreign to the ideas of republican Greece and Rome; but here
again the primitive Teuton is but the [Sidenote: Homeric analogies.]
reproduction of the primitive Achaian. The Homeric Kings have their
_comitatus_, their _Gesiðas_ or ἑταῖροι, their _Þegnas_ or θεράποντες,
free, noble, the cherished companions of their lords, but who do for
those lords, without any loss of their own dignity, services which in
later Greece none but slaves would have rendered. Eteôneus,
Automedôn,[111] Mêrionês, the divine Patroklos himself, all appear in
this relation; all are connected by this voluntary personal tie to a
chieftain of higher rank. They are the very counterparts of Lilla, the
faithful Thegn of Eadwine,[112] and of those true companions who fought
to the death for [Sidenote: Contrast with the republican Greeks and
Romans.] Cynewulf and Cyneheard.[113] The republican Greek knew no lord
but the law.[114] He was a member of a civil community, and as a good
citizen he obeyed the magistrates whom the choice of the community
clothed with a limited and temporary power. But personal dependence on
another human being seemed to him the distinguishing mark of the slave
as opposed to the citizen. The republican Roman shared the same feeling;
the early Cæsars were served by slaves or freedmen;[115] it was only as
the Empire gradually grew into an avowed monarchy, and gradually assumed
somewhat of the pomp of eastern kingship, that service about the person
of the Emperor began to be looked upon as honourable in a man of free
Roman birth. In the Teuton, as in the Homeric Achaian, the feeling of
the civil community, though far from unknown, was less strong, and the
tie of personal dependence was not felt to imply degradation. Indeed the
Teuton carried the principle of personal service far further than the
Roman ever did. It was held that purely menial services, when rendered
to persons of higher rank, in no way degraded the ordinary freeman. It
was even held that men of any rank short of the highest were actually
honoured by rendering such services to those who were one degree higher
than themselves. None of the old Cæsars ever held such lordly state
[Sidenote: Developement of the principle in the later Empire and in
modern Kingdoms.] as those among their successors who, while keeping
hardly a trace of real Imperial power, still saw Kings and sovereign
Dukes doing services about their person and household which, in the days
of Augustus, would have been deemed a degradation to the meanest Roman
citizen. So, among ourselves, offices about the person and household of
the lord became high and honourable. The King’s _dish-thegn_, his
_bower-thegn_, his _horse-thegn_ or _staller_, all became great
dignitaries of the kingdom, high in rank and influence,[116] as some of
them, among all the changes in our institutions, still remain. There
thus arose a new kind of nobility, nobility by service, the nobility
which gradually attached [Sidenote: The _Thegns_ supplant the old
_Eorls_.] to the _Thegns_ or _Servants_ of Kings and Ealdormen; and this
nobility gradually supplanted the elder nobility of immemorial
descent.[117] Men pressed into the service of powerful leaders, till
such service became the necessary badge of anything like distinguished
rank. The _Thegn_, whose name might sound at first hearing like the
exact opposite of the ancient _Eorl_, gradually took his place. The word
_Thegn_ became equivalent to _noble_ or _gentle_. The King’s Thegns
formed the highest class of gentry; the Thegns of Ealdormen and Bishops
formed a lower class. Again to use a modern parallel, the ancient _Eorl_
answers to the gentleman of ancient family, looked at simply as the
descendant of certain forefathers and the owner of certain property; the
_Thegn_ answers to the gentleman, whether with or without such ancestry,
looked at as holding, by royal commission, his place in the local
magistracy and the local military force.
The _Comitatus_—the _Thegnhood_, as we may call it—thus [Sidenote:
Effects of the growth of the Thegnhood.] grew and developed, and became
the central institution of the state. With every advance of the kingly
power—and every accession of territory, every free or constrained union
of one district with another, implied an advance of the kingly power—the
dignity of the King’s Thegns rose along with the dignity of their
_Hlaford_. In one way [Sidenote: Favourable to individual Ceorls, but
depressing to the class.] the change was a liberalizing one. The Ceorl
could not become an Eorl, simply because a man cannot change his
forefathers; but several ways were open to him of becoming a Thegn.[118]
And now Thegn’s rank had become practically equivalent to Eorl’s rank.
But though individual Ceorls might thus rise, there can be no doubt that
the growth of the Thegnhood was on the whole depressing to the Ceorls,
the simple freemen, as a class. The idea of the simple _landman_—I must
borrow a word from our continental brethren, as the word _citizen_
brings in quite other ideas—the undistinguished, but still free and, in
a sense, equal member of a free community, gradually died out. The
institution of the _Comitatus_, which in its origin was essentially
voluntary, was pressed, as it were, upon all men, till at last it became
a principle that no man should be without his lord. The freeman might
choose his lord; he might determine to whom, in technical phrase, he
should _commend_[119] [Sidenote: Commendation.] himself; but a lord he
must have, a lord to act at once as [Sidenote: Every man must have a
Lord.] his protector and as his surety, at once to watch over him and to
give a guaranty for his good behaviour. The lordless man became a kind
of outlaw, while in the older state of things the whole community would
be lordless, except those who might of their own free will have entered
[Sidenote: Depression of the Ceorls towards the period of the Conquest.]
the _Comitatus_ of some chief.[120] And there is little doubt that the
condition of the Ceorls had greatly changed for the worse in the later
times as we approach the Norman Conquest. Some classes among them seem
to have been fast approaching to the condition of villainage or even to
that of serfdom. This change is not peculiar to England; but it is the
peculiar glory of England that the bondage of the mass of its people
began later, and that it certainly ended sooner, than in any other
western country where such bondage existed. The peasantry of Germany
gradually sank into a lower state of serfdom than ours, and they
remained in it much longer. The free peasantry of Russia did not sink
into serfdom till villainage was nearly forgotten in England, but their
deliverance from the yoke has been reserved for our own times.
[Sidenote: Elements of Feudalism in England, but no Feudal System.]
This sketch of the growth of the Thegnhood and its effects at once
suggests the question, Did the Feudal System exist in England before the
Norman Conquest? One might perhaps be allowed to answer this question by
another, Did the Feudal System ever exist anywhere? In England, before
the Norman Conquest, the Feudal _System_ most certainly did not exist.
There was no systematic feudalism, but the elements of feudalism were
there. [Sidenote: Two elements of Feudalism;] Feudalism consists of two
main elements; the feudal relation implies the union of two other
relations. There is [Sidenote: the relation of the _Comitatus_ and the
holding of land by military service.] the personal relation of lord and
vassal, lord and man,[121] bound together by mutual will and mutual
fidelity, the one owing service, the other owing protection; there is in
short the old Teutonic relation of the _Comitatus_, the relation of the
_Hlaford_ and his _Thegn_. But alongside of this, the feudal relation
commonly implies the holding of land by military service. To grant land
on such a tenure is in truth one form, one among several, of that bounty
of the lord to his followers to which his very title of _Hlaford_ is
[Sidenote: Military tenures suggested by the relation of the
_Comitatus_,] owing. The lord makes his follower a grant of land as the
reward of past services, and he makes the continuation of those services
the condition of his follower’s keeping the land so granted. But there
can be no doubt that the tendency to this particular form of bounty was
greatly strengthened by the example of the Roman practice of [Sidenote:
and also by the Roman tenures on the frontier.] granting out frontier
lands to be held by military service.[122] The holders of such lands
held them of the Roman Republic, and to the Roman Republic their service
was due. They stood in no personal relation to the Emperor; they were
not his men, his vassals, his _Gesiðas_, his Thegns; their service was
due to him only so far as he was the head and [Sidenote: The two
elements united produce Feudalism.] representative of the commonwealth.
But the union in the same person of the Teutonic tie of the _Comitatus_
and the Roman tie of land held by military service would produce a
relation coming very near to the strictly feudal relation. The Roman
custom would easily suggest to the Teutonic conquerors the practice of
rewarding their followers with grants of lands—in short with benefices
or fiefs—as the most convenient and honourable form which the bounty of
the lord could take. In Britain indeed, [Sidenote: Growth of Feudalism
slower in England than on the Continent.] where Roman institutions were
so utterly swept away, this influence would hardly exist; at any rate it
would be far weaker than it was on the continent. Hence we find
feudalism growing up far more slowly in England than in Gaul or even in
Germany; in our old constitution we find the elements of feudalism; but
they were not as yet worked into a systematic shape; they had not as yet
become the materials of an elaborate jurisprudence. Homage was there;
for the relation of every man to his lord was a relation of homage.
Heriots too and other incidents of a feudal character already existed.
But these feudal elements had not yet been wrought together into any
harmonious feudal system. The _Comitatus_, the germ of feudalism, had
thriven and developed and was now dominant; but the old Teutonic
constitution had not been [Sidenote: Feudal elements strengthened by the
Norman Conquest.] utterly wiped out. The Norman Conquest no doubt
strongly tended to promote the further developement of the feudal
element; but, as in every other case, it only opened and prepared the
way for further changes.
[Sidenote: Earlier form of military service; the _Trinoda Necessitas_.]
The military service due from land held by a feudal tenure is strictly
due to the lord as the lord. That lord may be the King; but if so, the
service is still in strictness owing to him, not as head of the state,
but as lord of the fief. But there is another obligation to military
service which is older than this. All land in England was, by the
earliest Common Law, subject to three burthens, to contributions to the
three works most necessary for the defence of the country. These were
the famous _Trinoda Necessitas_, the obligation to service in the field
(_fyrd_) and to a share in the repairs of fortresses and of
bridges.[123] But these are duties owed by the citizen to the
commonwealth, or by the subject to the sovereign, not duties owed by a
personal vassal to a personal lord. Land, in an age when there was
little property except in land, is simply taken as the measure of the
contribution due from each man to the common defence. From these
burthens, as a rule, no land could be free; even church lands were
regularly subject to them, though in some cases their owners contrived
to obtain exemptions.[124] These ancient obligations pressed alike on
the ancient allodial possession and on the land held by any more modern
tenure. They were not feudal services, but a tax paid to the state. They
were in fact the price paid to the commonwealth for the protection which
it gave; or rather they were the share which each member of the
commonwealth was bound to take in the protection of himself and his
neighbours.
[Sidenote: Folkland and Bookland.]
I have already mentioned the _folkland_, the common land of the
community or of the nation, out of which the ancient allodial
possessions were carved. This process of turning public property into
private went on largely in later times. The alienation was now commonly
made by a document in writing, under the signatures of the King and his
Witan; land so granted was therefore said to be _booked_ to the grantee,
and was known as _bookland_. Portions of the folkland were thus cut off
from the public ownership, and were booked to private individuals or
corporations. The greater number of the existing ancient charters
consists of grants of this kind. [Sidenote: Conversion of Folkland into
Bookland in favour of the Church and of the King’s Thegns.] A vast
number are of course in favour of the Church, but those which are made
to the King’s faithful Thegns are hardly less common. In either case
portions of the folkland are alienated, _booked_, to private use with
the consent of the Witan. The booking might of course be made on any
terms; any sort of tenure might be created; but the great object of the
grantee was to get the land on the same terms as an ancient _eðel_,
subject only to the three burthens, which not even the most favoured
Thegn, hardly the most favoured churchman, could hope to escape.[125]
[Sidenote: Conversion of Folkland into Bookland required the assent of
the Witan.]
The folkland, the common property of the state, was of course at the
disposal of the state, and of the state only. It was granted by the
King, but only by the consent and authority of his Witan. That is to
say, in modern language, the change of folkland into bookland required
an Act of Parliament, but acts to that effect were passed constantly and
without difficulty. The folkland belonged to the nation and not to the
King. The King was only its chief administrator, enjoying its use, so
far as he enjoyed it, only as the head and representative of the nation.
[Sidenote: The King’s private estate.] But the King, like any other man,
had his private estate. Like any other man, he might have his ancient
allodial property, or he might, like any other man, have land booked to
him, land which followed the ordinary course of legal succession or
testamentary disposal.[126] It was indeed needful that the King should
have such private possessions; for, in our ancient elective monarchy,
the reigning King had no certainty that the crown, and the possessions
attached to the crown, would ever pass to [Sidenote: Folkland passes
into _Terra Regis_,] his descendants. But after the Norman Conquest, as
the royal power increased, and as the modern notion of hereditary right
was gradually developed, these two kinds of possession got confounded.
On the one hand, the nation was forgotten or merged in the person of its
chief; the folkland was held to be the King’s land, _Terra Regis_; the
King was led to look on the possessions of the nation as his own, and to
grant them away at his own pleasure without the consent of Parliament.
On the other hand, lawyers brought in the strange doctrine that the King
could hold no private property, but that, on his accession to the crown,
his private estate was merged in what was now held to be the royal
domain. By one of those curious cycles which so often come round in
human affairs, both these wrongs have been redressed, one formally, the
other practically. Our modern Kings have recovered the ancient right,
common to them with other men, of inheriting, purchasing, and
bequeathing [Sidenote: and becomes Folkland again.] private estates. On
the other hand, now that the royal domain is given up to the nation to
be controlled by Parliament, it is practically brought back to its
ancient condition of folkland. That is to say, after so many centuries
of usurpation, the land of which the Kings had defrauded the nation has
come back to its lawful owners.[127]
[Sidenote: The old Teutonic constitution gradually dies out everywhere
but in Switzerland.]
By these various means the old system of free Teutonic communities
gradually died out in England, as it died out in all parts of the
continent save one. It lingered in Friesland till the fifteenth
century;[128] in the primitive Switzerland it lingers still.
Everywhere else it has utterly [Sidenote: It yields in England to a
real national monarchy, in Germany to the dominion of petty princes.]
vanished, or has left only such faint traces as it has left among
ourselves. But England did not suffer from the change as Germany did.
Our free marks and shires gradually gave way, but they gave way before
the developement of a real national life, before the establishment of
a really national sovereignty. But in Germany local freedom was rooted
out, not in favour either of the nation or of its sovereign, but for
the advantage of that crowd of princes, great and small, which were
for ages the curse of the land. The free communities of Germany
vanished; but the German nation gained nothing, the German King gained
nothing; the liberties and rights alike of the King, of the nation,
and of the local communities, were confiscated to the profit of a
brood of petty despots. The constitution which Tacitus saw and
wondered at, the constitution for which Arminius fought and conquered,
the constitution whose working may still be seen year by year in the
free air of Uri and Appenzell, gave way in the great Teutonic realm to
the dominion of princes who represented nothing but themselves, who
embodied no national or provincial being, who were the mere creation
of modern dynastic and diplomatic arrangements,—arrangements which did
their best to wipe out every historic name and every national memory,
and to assign to each of their princely creatures an arbitrary extent
of dominion traced out at haphazard upon the map.[129] Such was the
fate of the Teutonic mainland; such was not the fate of the Teutonic
island. The uprooting of the old free communities, the growth of the
power of the King and of his Thegns, no doubt tended in England, as
elsewhere, to the degradation, at least for a while, of the lowest
class of [Sidenote: Ceorldom sinks into Villainage, but the Villains
are gradually emancipated.] freemen. The ceorl was fast sinking into
the villain. Still, even in the worst times, enough of the old spirit
remained in our laws to give the villain those means of obtaining
enfranchisement which gradually did enfranchise the whole class,
without the institution of villainage ever being formally done away
with. And the uprooting of the old [Sidenote: Change of the old
constitution necessary.] communities was needful, if England was ever
to become a great and united nation. We must remember that the
kingdom, like all our ancient divisions, from the shire, perhaps from
the hundred, upwards, was formed by the aggregation of smaller
divisions.[130] The unit is the _mark_, roughly represented by the
modern parish or manor. The shire must not be looked on as a division
of the kingdom,[131] nor the hundred or the mark as a division of the
shire. [Sidenote: Shires formed out of Marks, and Kingdoms out of
Shires.] The hundred is in truth formed by an aggregation of marks,
the shire by an aggregation of hundreds, the kingdom by an aggregation
of shires. The aggregation of marks into shires is indeed mainly to be
inferred from local nomenclature and from the analogy of other
Teutonic countries; but the aggregation of shires into kingdoms is
[Sidenote: The Mark-system probably less perfect in England than
elsewhere.] matter of recorded history. It is even possible that the
circumstances of the English Conquest of Britain may have hindered the
mark from ever possessing the same amount of independence in England
which it possessed in the older Teutonic lands. When every English
settlement had to defend itself, and if possible to extend itself, in
the teeth of a hostile Welsh population, the different settlements
must have kept up a very close union; there must have been from the
beginning, if not centralization, yet at any rate something like
federation. The first followers of Cerdic no doubt settled themselves
in marks, forming self-governing communities; but all must have held
themselves ready to march at Cerdic’s bidding, whenever it was needful
to repel an inroad of the Welsh, whenever things promised well for a
fresh inroad upon them. Still such communities, the mark and the
shire, however dependent externally on some central authority, were
doubtless internally self-governed from the beginning. We have already
seen[132] how shires, ruled each one by its own Ealdorman, came
together into kingdoms under a single [Sidenote: Formation of the
greater Kingdoms.] King. We have seen also that the nature of the
process differed in different parts of the country, that in Mercia,
for instance, wholly independent states were thus brought into union,
while in Wessex, though there were many Ealdormen and even many Kings,
there was still a certain unity from the first. There was always a
head King of the West-Saxons, and all the Under-kings were most likely
Æthelings of the blood of Cerdic. Gradually the connexion became
closer, the process no doubt being quicker in Wessex than in Mercia or
Northumberland. The head King became the only King, the only
independent executive; and the assembly of his Witan became the only
independent legislature. In place of Kings, independent or dependent,
the shires received Ealdormen, named by the King and his Witan, and
liable to be removed by [Sidenote: Process of amalgamation; royal
officers in the Shires.] them. The folkland of the shire became the
folkland of the whole kingdom. A crowd of royal officers[133] of
various ranks, whose main duty was to look after the royal interests,
were scattered over all parts of the country. The Ealdorman still
remained, the shadow of ancient kingship, and so far the
representative of local independence. But beside him arose a new
officer, the _Scírgerefa_, _Shirereeve_, or _Sheriff_, the immediate
officer of the King, the agent of the central authority, the
representative of the dependence of each local division on the common
King and Assembly of the nation. Once the shires were the units, out
of the union of which the kingdom was formed; now the kingdom forms a
new whole, of which the shires have sunk to be mere administrative
divisions. In Mercia we have seen[134] that, after the Danish
conquest, the country was artificially mapped out again into fresh
shires, which must have been felt to be still more completely mere
administrative divisions than those West-Saxon shires which had once
been separate principalities.
§ 3. _Origin and Powers of the Witenagemót._
By these means those great kingdoms were formed which produced
Bretwaldas and which strove for the supremacy of Britain. Each stage of
union increased the kingly power; each stage lessened the independence
of local communities and lessened the importance of their [Sidenote:
Democratic constitution of the old Assemblies.] individual members. The
democratic character of the old Teutonic system contained the seeds of
its own destruction, whenever it should be applied to districts of any
great extent. We may be sure that every Teutonic freeman had [Sidenote:
The Assembly of the Mark,] a voice in the assembly—the _Gemót_, the
_Gemeinde_, the _Ekklêsia_—of his own mark. In fact he in some sort
keeps it still, as holding his place in the parish vestry. He had a
voice; it might be too much to say that he had a vote; for in an early
state of things formal divisions are not likely to be often taken; the
temper of the assembly is found out by easier means. But the man who
clashed his arms to express approval, or who joined in the unmistakeable
sound which expressed dissent,[135] practically gave as efficient a vote
as if he had solemnly walked out into a lobby. The Homeric _Agorê_ is
the type of every such assembly, and the likeness of the Homeric _Agorê_
may [Sidenote: of the Shire.] be seen in an English county-meeting to
this day.[136] The voice which the simple freeman, the ceorl, had in the
assembly of his mark, he would not lose in the assembly of his shire,
the _Scirgemót_. The county court is to this [Sidenote: The right
becomes less valuable with each extension of area.] day an assembly of
all the freeholders of the shire.[137] But the right of attending the
assembly of the shire would become really less valuable than the right
of attending the assembly of the mark. The larger the assembly, the more
distant the place of meeting, the more difficult, and therefore the more
rare, does the attendance of individual members become, and the smaller
is the importance of each individual member when he gets there. We
cannot doubt that the assemblies of the mark, of the shire, and of the
kingdom all went on side by side: but at each stage of union the
competence of the inferior assembly [Sidenote: Every freeman had a
theoretical right to attend the National Assembly.] would be narrowed.
We cannot doubt that every freeman kept in theory the right of appearing
in the assembly of the kingdom, no less than in the assemblies of the
mark and of the shire. Expressions are found which are quite enough to
show that the mass of the people were theoretically looked on as present
in the national assembly and as consenting to its decrees.[138] But such
a right of [Sidenote: The right goes practically out of use.] attendance
necessarily became a mere name. The mass of the people could not attend;
they would not care to attend, they would find themselves of no account
if they did attend. They would therefore, without any formal abrogation
of their right, gradually cease from attending. The idea of
representation had not yet arisen; those who did not appear in person
had no means of appearing by deputy; of election or delegation there is
not the slightest trace, though it might often happen that those who
stayed away might feel that their rich or official neighbour who went
would attend to their wishes and would fairly act in their interests. By
this process an originally democratic assembly, without any formal
exclusion of any class of its members, gradually shrank up into an
aristocratic assembly. I trust that I have shown in another work[139]
how, under closely analogous circumstances, the Federal Assembly of
Achaia, legally open to every Achaian citizen, was commonly attended
only by those who were both rich and zealous, and how it often happened
that the members of the inner body, the Senate, themselves alone formed
the [Sidenote: The Assembly practically an Assembly of the King’s
Thegns.] assembly. In the same way, an assembly of all the freemen of
Wessex, when those freemen could not attend personally and when they had
no means of attending by representatives, gradually changed into an
assembly attended by few or none but the King’s Thegns. The great
officers of Church and State, Ealdormen, Bishops, Abbots, would attend;
the ordinary Thegns would attend more laxly, but still in considerable
numbers; the King would preside; a few leading men would discuss; the
general mass of the Thegns, whether they formally voted or not, would
make their approval or disapproval practically felt; [Sidenote: Vestiges
of the old popular rights.] no doubt the form still remained of at least
announcing the resolutions taken to any of the ordinary freemen whom
curiosity had drawn to the spot; most likely the form still remained of
demanding their ceremonial assent, though without any fear that the
habitual “Yea, yea,” would ever be exchanged for “Nay, nay.”[140] It is
thus that, in the absence of representation, a democratic franchise, as
applied to a large country, gradually becomes unreal or delusive.
[Sidenote: Primary Assemblies suited only to small commonwealths.] A
primary assembly, an _Ekklêsia_, a _Landesgemeinde_, is an excellent
institution in a commonwealth so small as to allow of its being really
worked with effect. But in any large community it either becomes a
tumultuous mob, like the later Roman _Comitia_ or the Florentine
Parliament, or else it gradually shrinks up into an aristocratic body,
as the old Teutonic assemblies did both in England and on the continent.
When the great statesmen of the thirteenth century, Earl Simon and King
Edward, fully established the principle of representation, they did but
[Sidenote: The Ancient right restored in another shape in the thirteenth
century.] bring back the old state of things in another shape. The
ordinary freeman had gradually lost his right of personal attendance in
the national assembly; it was inexpedient and impossible to restore that
right to him in its original shape; he may be looked on as having in the
thirteenth century legally surrendered it, and as having received in its
stead the far more practical right of attending by his representatives.
Thus was formed that famous assembly of our forefathers, called by
various names, the _Mycel Gemót_ or _Great Meeting_, the
_Witenagemót_[141] or _Meeting of the Wise_, sometimes the _Mycel
Getheaht_ or _Great Thought_.[142] [Sidenote: The Witenagemót.] But the
common title of those who compose it is simply the _Witan_, the
_Sapientes_ or _Wise Men_. In every English kingdom we find the royal
power narrowly limited by the necessity under which the King lay of
acting in all matters of importance by the consent and authority of his
Witan, in other words, of his Parliament. [Sidenote: The Gemót of Wessex
becomes the general Legislature, those, of the other kingdoms surviving
as local bodies.] As the other kingdoms merged in Wessex, the Witan of
the other kingdoms became entitled to seats in the Gemót of Wessex, now
become the common Gemót of the Empire. But just as in the case of the
assemblies of the mark and the shire, so the Gemóts of the other
Kingdoms seem to have gone on as local bodies, dealing with local
affairs, and perhaps giving a formal assent to the resolutions of the
central body.[143] [Sidenote: Lack of information as to the constitution
of the Assembly.] As to the constitution of these great councils in any
English kingdom our information is of the vaguest kind. The members are
always spoken of in the loosest way. We find the Witan constantly
assembling, constantly passing laws, but we find no law prescribing or
defining the constitution of the assembly itself. We find no trace of
representation or election; we find no trace of any property
qualification;[144] we find no trace of nomination by the crown, except
in so far as all the great officers of the court and the kingdom were
constantly present. On the other hand we have seen that all the leading
men, Ealdormen, Bishops, Abbots, and a considerable body of other
Thegns, did attend; we have seen that the people as a body had in some
way a share in the legislative acts of their chiefs, that those acts
were in some sort the acts of the people themselves, to which they had
themselves assented, and were not merely the edicts of superiors which
they had to obey. There is no doubt that, on some particular occasions,
some classes at least of the people did actually take a part in the
proceedings of the national council; thus the citizens of London are
more than once recorded to have taken a share in the election of
Kings.[145] No theory that I know of will explain all these phænomena
except that which I have just tried to draw out. This is, that every
freeman had an abstract right to be present, but that any actual share
in the proceedings of the assembly had, gradually and imperceptibly,
come to be confined to the leading men, to the King’s Thegns,
strengthened, under peculiarly favourable circumstances, by the presence
of exceptional classes of freemen, like the London citizens.[146] It is
therefore utterly vain for any political party to try to press the
supposed constitution of our ancient national councils into the service
[Sidenote: The Witenagemót proves nothing in modern political
controversies.] of modern political warfare. The Meeting of the Wise has
not a word to utter for or against any possible Reform Bill. In one
sense it was more democratic than anything that the most advanced
Liberal would dare to dream of; in another sense it was more oligarchic
than anything that the most unbending Conservative would dare to defend.
Yet it may in practice have fairly represented the wishes of the nation;
and if so, no people ever enjoyed more complete political freedom, than
the English did in these early times. [Sidenote: Extent of the powers of
the Assembly; greater than those of a modern Parliament.] For the powers
of the ancient Witenagemót[147] surpassed beyond all measure the powers
which our written law vests in a modern Parliament. In some respects
they surpassed the powers which our conventional constitution vests in a
modern House of Commons. The King could do absolutely nothing without
the consent of his Wise Men. First of all, it was from them that he
derived his political being, and it was on them that he depended for its
continuance. The Witan chose the King and the [Sidenote: Power of
deposing the King.] Witan could depose him. The power of deposition is a
power which, from its very nature, can be exercised but rarely; we
therefore do not find many Kings deposed by Act of Parliament either
before or since the Norman Conquest. But we do find instances, both
before and since the Norman Conquest, which show that, by the ancient
constitution of England, the Witan of the land did possess the right of
deposing the sovereign, and that on great and emergent occasions they
did not shrink from exercising that right. I will not attempt to grapple
with the confused history of Northumberland, where at one time Kings
were set up [Sidenote: Instances in Northumberland;] and put down almost
daily. Such revolutions were doubtless as much the result of force as of
any legal process; still we can hardly doubt that the legal forms were
commonly observed, and sometimes we find it distinctly recorded that
they were. Let us keep ourselves to the more certain history of the line
of Cerdic. Five times—we [Sidenote: in Wessex.] might more truly say six
times—thrice before and twice since the Norman Conquest, has the King of
the West-Saxons or of the English been deprived of his [Sidenote:
Sigeberht. 755.] kingly office by the voice of his Parliament.[148]
Sigeberht of Wessex, in the eighth century, was deposed by the vote of
the general assembly of his kingdom, and another King [Sidenote:
Æthelred deposed, 1013; restored, 1014.] was elected in his stead.
Æthelred the Second was deposed by one act of the Legislature and
restored by another. Harthacnut, in the like sort, was deposed, while
still uncrowned, from his West-Saxon kingdom, though he [Sidenote:
Harthacnut deposed, 1037; re-elected, 1040.] was afterwards re-elected
to the whole kingdom of England. [Sidenote: Edward the Second deposed,
1327; Richard the Second, 1377.] Edward the Second was deposed by
Parliament; so was Richard the Second. At a later time the Parliament
[Sidenote: Case of James the Second.] of England shrank from the formal
deposition of James the Second, and took refuge in a theory of
abdication which, though logically absurd, practically did all that was
wanted. But the Parliament of Scotland had no such scruples, and that
body, in full conformity with ancient examples, declared the crown of
Scotland to be forfeited. In a land where everything goes by precedent,
a right resting on a tradition like this, though its actual exercise may
have taken place only five or six times in nine hundred years, is surely
as well established as any other. Under our modern constitution the
right is likely to remain dormant. The objects which in past times
required the deposition of the King, if not from his office, at least
from his authority, can now be gained by a parliamentary censure of the
Prime Minister, or in the extremest case by bringing an impeachment
against him.
[Sidenote: The King elected by the Witan.]
If the Witan could depose the King, still more undoubtedly did the Witan
elect the King.[149] It is strange how people’s eyes are blinded on this
subject. It is not uncommon to hear people talk about the times before
and shortly after the Norman Conquest as if the Act for the Settlement
of the Royal Succession had already been in force in those days. It is
strange to hear a number of princes, both before and since the Conquest,
popularly spoken of as “usurpers,” merely because they came to the crown
in a different way from that which modern law and [Sidenote: Popular
misconceptions on this subject.] custom prescribe. It is strange that
people who talk in this way commonly forget that their own principle, so
far as it proves anything, proves a great deal more than they intend. If
Harold, Stephen, John, were usurpers, Ælfred and Eadward the Confessor
were usurpers just as much. Ælfred and Eadward, no less than John,
succeeded by election, to the exclusion of nephews whom the modern law
of England would look upon as the undoubted heirs of the crown. It is
stranger still to hear others talk as if hereditary succession,
according to some particular theory of it, was a divine and eternal law
which could not be departed from without sin. Those who talk in this way
should at least tell us what the divine and unchangeable law of
succession is; for in a purely historical view of things, nearly every
kingdom seems to have a law of succession of its own. Our forefathers at
any rate knew nothing of any such superstitions. The ancient English
kingship was elective. It was elective in the same sense in which all
the old Teutonic kingdoms were elective. Among a people in whose eyes
birth was highly valued, it was deemed fitting that the King should be
the descendant of illustrious and royal forefathers. In the days of
heathendom it was held that the King should come of the supposed
[Sidenote: Kings commonly chosen out of a particular family.] stock of
the Gods. Thus in every kingdom there was a kingly house, out of which
alone, under all ordinary circumstances, Kings were chosen; but within
that kingly house the Witan of the land had a free choice. The
[Sidenote: The eldest son of the last King has a preference, but no
more.] eldest son of the last King would doubtless always have a
preference; if he was himself at all worthy of the place, if his
father’s memory was at all cherished, he would commonly be preferred
without hesitation, probably chosen without the appearance of any other
candidate. But a preference was all to which he was entitled, and he
seems not to have been entitled even to a preference unless he
[Sidenote: Minors constantly passed by.] was actually the son of a
crowned King.[150] If he were too young, or otherwise disqualified, the
electors passed him by and chose some worthier member of the royal
family. Ælfred and Eadred were chosen in preference to the minor sons of
elder brothers. Eadward the Confessor was chosen in preference to the
absent son of an elder brother. At the death of Eadgar, when the royal
family contained only minors to choose from, the electors were divided
between the elder and the younger brother. Minors who had been once
passed by might or might not be elected at a later vacancy. Æthelwold,
the son of Æthelred the First, who had been passed by in favour of his
uncle Ælfred, was again passed by on Ælfred’s death, because no claim
could compare with that of Eadward, the worthy son of the most glorious
of fathers. The children of Eadmund were passed by in favour of their
uncle Eadred, but on Eadred’s death the [Sidenote: A certain preference
acquired by the recommendation of the last King.] choice fell on the
formerly excluded Eadwig. And as a certain preference was acquired by
birth, a certain preference was acquired by the recommendation of the
late King. So Eadgar recommended his elder son Eadward to the electors;
so Eadward the Confessor recommended Harold. Æthelwulf had long before
attempted, by the help of a will confirmed by the Witan, to establish a
peculiar law of succession, which soon broke down.[151] But it is clear
that a certain importance was attached to the wishes of a deceased and
respected King, as conveying a distinct preference. But it conveyed
nothing more than a preference; the person who enjoyed such preference,
whether by birth or by nomination, could still be passed by without
breach of constitutional right. From these principles it follows that,
as any disqualified person in the kingly house might be passed by, so,
if the whole house were disqualified, the whole house might be passed
by. [Sidenote: Harold the son of Godwine lawfully chosen.] That is to
say, the election of Harold the son of Godwine, the central point of
this history, was perfectly good in every point of view. The earlier
election of Cnut was [Sidenote: Cnut’s election good in form, but made
under _duresse_.] equally good in point of form; only it was an election
under _duresse_—_duresse_ a little, but not much, stronger than that
under which an English Chapter elects its Bishop.
An ancient English King then was, not the father of his people, but
their child, their creation. And the assembly which had elected him, and
which could depose him, claimed to direct him by its advice and
authority [Sidenote: Direct share of the Witan in every branch of
government.] in almost every exercise of the kingly power. Every act of
government of any importance was done, not by the King alone, but by the
King and his Witan. The Great Council of the nation took an active share
even in those branches of government which modern constitutional
theories mark out as the special domain of the Executive. That laws were
ordained, and taxes imposed,[152] by the authority of the Witan, that
they sat as the highest court for the trial of exalted and dangerous
offenders, is only what we should look for from the analogy of modern
times. It is more important to find that the King and his Witan, and not
the King alone, concluded treaties, made grants of folkland, ordained
the assemblage of fleets and armies, appointed and deposed the great
officers of Church and State. Of the exercise of all these powers by the
assembled Witan we shall find abundant examples in the course of this
history. Now these are the very powers which a modern House of Commons
shrinks from [Sidenote: Difference between the direct and indirect
action of Parliament.] directly exercising. These are the powers which,
under our present system, Parliament prefers to entrust to ministers in
whom it has confidence, ministers whom it virtually appoints, and whom
it can virtually dismiss without any formal ceremony of deposition. And,
in our present state of things, little or no harm, and some direct good,
comes from Parliament preferring an indirect course of action [Sidenote:
Direct action necessary in early times.] on these subjects. But in an
earlier state of things, a more direct agency of the Parliament or other
national assembly is absolutely necessary. The assembly has to deal, not
with a ministry whom it can create and destroy without any formal
action, but with a personal King, whom it has indeed elected and whom it
can depose, but whose election and deposition are solemn national acts,
his deposition indeed being the rarest and most extreme of all national
acts. In such a state of things the power of the King may be strictly
limited by law; but, within the limits which the law prescribes to him,
he acts according to his own will and pleasure, or according to the
advice of counsellors who are purely of his own choosing. In such a
state of things the King and the nation are brought face to face, and it
is needful that the national assembly should have a much more direct
control over affairs than is at all needful when the ingenious device of
a responsible ministry is interposed between King and Parliament. Long
after the days of our ancient Witenagemóts, in the days of Edward the
Third for instance, Parliament was consulted about wars and negotiations
in a much more direct way than it is now. The control of Parliament over
the Executive is certainly not less effective now than it was then; but
the nature of our present system makes it desirable that the control of
Parliament should be exercised in a less direct way than it was then.
Our present system avoids, above all things, all possibility of direct
personal collision between Parliament and the sovereign. But such direct
personal collisions form the staple of English history from the
thirteenth century onwards. In earlier times we seldom come across any
record of the debates of our national councils, though we often know
their determinations. How far such collisions commonly took place in
early times[153] we have but small means of knowing. They were perhaps
less to be looked for in the tenth or eleventh century than in the
thirteenth or fourteenth. In the later times the King had to deal with
his Parliament as with something external to himself, something which
laid petitions before him which he could accept or reject at pleasure. A
struggle in those days was a struggle between the King and an united
Parliament. Nowadays, as we all know, the struggle takes place within
the walls of Parliament itself. But we can well believe that, in this
respect as in so many others, the earliest times were really more like
our own [Sidenote: Joint action of the King and the Witan.] than the
intermediate centuries were. An ancient Witenagemót did not petition; it
decreed; it confirmed the acts of the King which, without the assent of
the Witan, had no validity; it was not a body external to the King, but
a body of which the King was the head in a much more direct sense than
he could be said to be the head of a later mediæval Parliament. The King
and his Witan acted together; the King could do nothing without the
Witan, and the Witan could do nothing without the King; they were no
external, half-hostile, body; they were his own council, surrounding and
advising him. Direct collisions between the King on the one hand and an
united Gemót on the other were not likely to be common. And as to the
great powers of the Witenagemót, as to its direct participation in all
important acts of government, there can be no doubt. They are legibly
[Sidenote: Diminution of parliamentary action after the Conquest.]
written in every page of our early history. The vast increase of the
power of the crown after the Norman Conquest, the gradual growth of a
systematic feudal jurisprudence, did much to lessen the authority and
dignity of the national councils. The idea of a nation and its chief, of
a King and his counsellors, almost died away; the King became half
despot, half mere feudal lord. England was never without national
assemblies of some kind or other; but from the Conquest in the eleventh
century till the second birth of freedom in the thirteenth, our national
assemblies do not stand out in the same distinct and living shape in
which they stand out both in earlier [Sidenote: The old freedom won back
in the thirteenth century.] and in later times. Here again we owe our
thanks to those illustrious worthies, from the authors of the Great
Charter onwards, who, in so many ways, won back for us our ancient
constitution in another shape. I have said that no political party can
draw any support for its own peculiar theories from that obscurest of
subjects, the constitution of the Witenagemót. But no lover of our old
historic freedom can see without delight how venerable a thing that
freedom is, how vast and how ancient are the rights and powers of an
English Parliament. Our ancient Gemóts enjoyed every power of a modern
Parliament, together with some powers which modern Parliaments shrink
from claiming. Even such a matter of detail as the special security
granted to the persons of members of the two Houses has been traced, and
not without a show of probability, to an enactment which stands at the
very front of English secular jurisprudence, the second among the laws
ordained by our first Christian King and the Witan of his kingdom of
Kent.[154]
[Sidenote: The King not a puppet in the hands of the Witan.]
As the powers of the Witan were thus extensive, as the King could do no
important act of government without their consent, some may hastily leap
to the conclusion that an ancient English King was a mere puppet in the
hands of the national council. No inference could be more mistaken.
Nothing is clearer in our early history than the personal agency of the
King in everything that is done, and the unspeakable difference between
a good and [Sidenote: Vast importance of the personal character of the
King.] a bad King. The truth is that in an early state of society almost
everything depends on the personal character of the King. An able King
is practically absolute; under a weak King the government falls into
utter anarchy. Change the scene, as we shall presently do in our
narrative, from the days of Eadgar to those of Æthelred—change it again
from the long, dreary, hopeless, reign of Æthelred to the few months of
ceaseless energy which form the reign of the hero Eadmund—compare the
nine months of Harold with the two months which followed his fall—and we
shall see how the whole fate of the nation turned upon the personal
character of its sovereign. With such witnesses before us, we can the
better understand how our forefathers would have scouted the thought—if
the thought had ever occurred to them—of risking the destiny of the
nation on the accidents of strict hereditary succession, and how wisely
they determined that the King must be, if not the worthiest of the
nation, at any rate the worthiest of the kingly house. The unhappy reign
of Æthelred showed the bad side of even that limited application of the
hereditary principle which was all that they admitted. Under her great
Kings England had risen from her momentary overthrow to an Imperial
dominion. At home she had a strong and united government, and her
position in the face of other nations was one which made her alliance to
be courted by the foremost princes of Europe. The accession of the minor
son of Eadgar, a child who, except in his crimes and vices, never got
beyond childhood, dragged down the glorious fabric into the dust. So
greatly did national welfare and national misfortune depend on the
personal character of the King. The King, it is true, could do nothing
without his Witan; but as his Witan could do nothing without him, he was
not a shadow or a puppet, but a most important personal agent. He was no
more a puppet than the Leader of the House of Commons is a puppet. We
may be sure that the King and his immediate advisers always had a
practical initiative, and that the body of the Witan did little but
accept [Sidenote: Overwhelming personal influence of an able King.] or
reject their proposals. We may be sure that a King fit for his place, an
Ælfred or an Æthelstan, met with nothing that could be called
opposition, but wielded the assembly at his will. Princes clothed with
far smaller constitutional powers than those of an ancient English King
have become the ruling spirits of commonwealths which denied them any
kind of independent action. Agêsilaos guided the policy of Sparta, and
Francesco Foscari guided the policy of Venice,[155] with a personal
influence almost as commanding as that which Periklês exercised in the
pure democracy of Athens or Aratos in the mixed constitution of the
Achaian League. So when a great King sat on the West-Saxon throne, we
may be sure that, while every constitutional form was strictly
observed,[156] the votes of the Witan were guided in everything by the
will of the King. But when the King had no will, or a will which the
Witan could not consent to, then the machine gave way, and nothing was
to be seen [Sidenote: Importance of the King as the Executive.] but
confusion and every evil work.[157] Again, the King was not only the
first mover, he was also the main doer of everything. The Witan decreed,
but it was the King who carried out their decrees. Weighty as was the
influence of his personal character on the nature of the resolutions to
be passed, its influence was weightier still on the way in which those
resolutions were to be carried out. Under a good King counsel and
execution went hand in hand; under a weak or wicked King there was no
place found for either. Sometimes disgraceful resolutions were passed;
sometimes wise and good resolutions were never carried into effect. The
Witan under Æthelred sometimes voted money to buy off the Danes,
sometimes they voted armies to fight against them; but, with Æthelred to
carry out their votes, it mattered little what their [Sidenote:
Influence of the King as _Hlaford_ of all the chief men.] votes were.
Add to all this the boundless influence which attached to the King from
his having all the chief men of the land bound to him by the personal
tie of thegnship. He was the _Cyne-hlaford_, at once the King of the
nation and the personal lord of each individual. Though his grants of
folkland and his nominations to the highest offices needed the assent of
the Witan, yet in these matters above all his initiative would be
undoubted; the Witan had only to confirm, and they would seldom be
tempted to reject, the proposals which the King laid before them. He was
not less the fountain of honour and the fountain of wealth, because in
the disposal of both he had certain decent ceremonies to go through.
[Sidenote: General importance and influence of the King.] Add to all
this that in unsettled times there is a special chance, both of acts of
actual oppression which the law is not strong enough to redress, and of
acts of energy beyond the law which the nation easily forgives in the
case of a victorious and beloved prince. Altogether, narrowly limited as
were the legal powers of an ancient English King, his will, or lack of
will, had the main influence on the destinies of the nation, and his
personal character was of as much moment to the welfare of the state as
the personal character of an absolute ruler.
§ 4. _The Imperial power of the King and his relation to the Dependent
Kingdoms._
The King and his Witan then, in their joint action, formed the supreme
legislature and the supreme tribunal [Sidenote: England strictly one
kingdom, but much local independence retained by the incorporated
kingdoms.] of the English kingdom. That kingdom, from the days of
Æthelstan onwards, took in the whole Teutonic portion of Britain,
together with those Celtic lands to the south-west which had been
incorporated and to a great extent Teutonized. This whole region, at
least from the overthrow of the last Northumbrian King under Eadred,
formed in the strictest sense one kingdom; the revolt of the Mercians
against Eadwig was only a momentary interruption of its unity. The
ancient divisions were indeed by no means forgotten; above all, the
great Danish land beyond the Humber still retained a lively memory of
its former independence. Both Northumberland and the other incorporated
kingdoms kept much of the form of distinct states; each state had its
local Witenagemót, presided over by its local Ealdorman or Earl, who
exercised, by commission from the King and his Witan, full royal
authority within his own province. But I have already explained that,
vast as were the powers of an ancient Ealdorman, he was still only a
great magistrate, not a prince, even a dependent prince. The whole land
formed one kingdom under one King, and the King and his Witan held
direct authority in every corner of it. But this kingdom of the English
was not the only title and dignity to which the house of [Sidenote:
Superiority or Empire of the West-Saxon Kings over all Britain.] Cerdic
had attained. The King of the English was also Emperor of the whole isle
of Britain. I must now explain somewhat more at length the nature of
this British Empire, as distinguished from the English kingdom which was
[Sidenote: Statement of the question. First, the fact of the
superiority. Secondly, the force of the assumption of strictly Imperial
titles.] only part of it. In this inquiry two special points call for
notice. There is, first, the fact that the English Kings did exercise a
superiority of some kind over the whole of Britain, a fact which has
sometimes been called in question by local prejudice. There is,
secondly, the question as to the exact nature of that superiority, and
as to the motives which led the Kings of the tenth and eleventh
centuries to assume distinctively Imperial titles. It must not be
forgotten that in those days such titles were not assumed at random; the
idea of the Roman Empire was still thoroughly understood, and indeed the
Roman Empire itself, both in the East and in the West, was in one of its
most flourishing periods.
The fact that the West-Saxon or English Kings, from Eadward the Elder
onwards, did exercise an external supremacy over the Celtic princes of
the island is a fact too clear to be misunderstood by any one who looks
the evidence on [Sidenote: Superiority over Scotland dates from Eadward
the Elder. 924.] the matter fairly in the face. I date their supremacy
over Scotland from the reign of Eadward the Elder, because there is no
certain earlier instance of submission on the part of the Scots to any
West-Saxon King. I pass by the [Sidenote: No earlier supremacy in
Wessex.] instances of Scottish submission to the earlier Northumbrian
Kings, as well as the seeming submission of both Scots and Northumbrians
to the Roman Empire itself in the person of Charles the Great.[158]
These instances do not prove the existence of any permanent superiority;
they are rather analogous to the temporary and fluctuating superiority
of this or that Bretwalda over the other English kingdoms. But from the
time of Eadward the Elder onwards the case is [Sidenote: Submission of
Wales to Ecgberht, 830; to Eadward, 922.] perfectly clear. The
submission of Wales dates from the time of Ecgberht; but it evidently
received a more distinct and formal acknowledgement in the reign of
Eadward. Two years after followed the _Commendation_ of Scotland and
[Sidenote: The Welsh and Scottish people concur with their princes in
the _Commendation_.] Strathclyde.[159] Now it seems to be implied in the
case of Wales, and it is still more plainly stated in the case of
Scotland and Strathclyde, that the people of both those countries had a
share in those acts of their princes by which Eadward was chosen to
Father and to Lord. I conceive this to mean that the Scottish and Welsh
princes acted in this matter by the consent and authority of whatever
body in their own states answered to the Witan in England. In both cases
the commendation was a [Sidenote: Nature of _Commendation_;] solemn
national act. I use the feudal word _commendation_, because that word
seems to me better than any other to express the real state of the case.
The transaction between Eadward and the Celtic princes was simply an
application, on an international scale, of the general principle of the
[Sidenote: the relation unaffected by greatness or smallness of scale.]
_Comitatus_. That relation, like all the feudal relations which it
helped to form, may be entered into either on the greatest or on the
smallest scale. The land which is originally granted out on a feudal
tenure, or which its allodial owner finds it expedient to convert into a
fief held on feudal tenure, may be a kingdom or it may be a rood of land
maintaining its man. So the lord whom a man chooses, and the man who
chooses the lord, may be of any possible rank, from the Emperor and the
Pope with their vassal Kings down to the smallest Thegn and his
neighbouring ceorl. It would even seem that the ceorl himself might be
the lord of a poorer ceorl.[160] The relation is exactly the same,
whatever may be the rank and power of the parties between whom it is
contracted. In every case alike, great or small, faithful service is
owing on the one side and faithful protection on the other. In every
case alike, great or small, the relation may imply a strictly feudal
tenure of land or it may not. Now the Chroniclers, in recording these
cases of Welsh and Scottish submission, make use, as if of set purpose,
of the familiar legal phrases which express the relation of commendation
on the smaller [Sidenote: Process of Commendation on a small scale.]
scale. A man “chose his lord;” he sought some one more powerful than
himself, with whom he entered into the relation of _Comitatus_; as
feudal ideas strengthened, he commonly surrendered his allodial land to
the lord so chosen, and received it back again from him on a feudal
tenure. This was the process of commendation, a process of every day
occurrence in the case of private men choosing their lords, whether
those lords were simple gentlemen or [Sidenote: Instances of
Commendation among sovereign princes.] Kings. And the process was
equally familiar among sovereign princes themselves.[161] Almost all the
northern and eastern vassals of the Western Empire, some of them of
kingly rank,[162] became vassals by commendation. The commendation was
doubtless in many cases far from voluntary, but the legal form was
always the same. The lands of these princes were not original grants
from the Emperors; but their holders found it expedient to come to terms
with their Imperial neighbour, and to place themselves and their lands
in the same position as if their lands had really been Imperial grants.
We might go on to say that the [Sidenote: Commendation of the Normans to
Leo the Ninth. 1053.] Norman conquerors of southern Italy commended
themselves to the Pope whom they took prisoner, and that the Sicilian
kingdoms, on the strength of that commendation, remained for seven
hundred years in the position of fiefs [Sidenote: Commendation of
England to the Pope by John [1213]; to the Emperor by Richard. 1193.] of
the Holy See. The kingdom of England itself was twice commended to a
foreign potentate. John, as all the world knows, commended his kingdom
to the Pope; and his brother Richard had before that commended it to the
Emperor. There was nothing unusual or degrading in the relation; if
Scotland, Wales, Strathclyde, commended themselves to the West-Saxon
King, they only put themselves in the same relation to their powerful
neighbour in which every continental prince stood in theory, and most of
them in actual fact, to the Emperor, Lord of the World. [Sidenote:
Homage of Odo the West-Frank to Arnulf. 888.] Not to speak of a crowd of
smaller instances, Odo, King of the West-Franks, commended himself to
Arnulf of Germany, just as Howel and Constantine commended themselves to
Eadward of Wessex. And this commendation was made before Arnulf became
Emperor and Lord of the World, while he was still the simple King of the
Eastern Franks.[163] The commendation of Scotland and Strathclyde was,
in form at least, a perfectly voluntary act, done with the full consent
of the nations interested. The kingdom of Strathclyde soon came to an
end, and with the Welsh of Wales proper no lasting relations of any kind
[Sidenote: Relations between England and Scotland as friendly as was
usual in such cases.] could be kept up. But between the English
over-lord and his Scottish vassal the mutual compact was not worse kept
than it commonly was in such cases. It was often broken and often
renewed; but this was no more than happened always and everywhere in
those turbulent times. The relations between the English _Basileus_ and
the King of Scots were at least as friendly as the relations which
existed in the tenth century between the King of the West-Franks
[Sidenote: The claims of Edward the First in 1291 rest on the
Commendation to Eadward the Elder in 924.] and his dangerous vassals at
Paris and Rouen. The original commendation to the Eadward of the tenth
century, confirmed by a series of acts of submission spread over the
whole of the intermediate time, is the true justification for the acts
of his glorious namesake in the thirteenth century.[164] The only
difference was that, during that time, feudal notions had greatly
developed on both sides; the original commendation of the Scottish King
and people to a lord, had changed, in the ideas of both sides, into a
[Sidenote: Change of ideas in the meanwhile.] feudal tenure of the land
of the Scottish kingdom. But this change was simply the universal change
which had come over all such relations everywhere. That this point, the
only point which could with any justice have been brought forward
against Edward on the Scottish side, never was brought forward shows how
completely the ancient notion of commendation had gone out of mind.[165]
But the principal point at issue, the right of the over-lord to decide
between two claimants of the vassal kingdom, rested on excellent
precedents in the reigns of Eadward the Confessor and of William Rufus.
Altogether the vassalage—to use the most convenient word—of Scotland
from the [Sidenote: 924–1328.] commendation to Eadward to the treaty of
Northampton [Sidenote: Threefold relation of the King of Scots to the
English Crown.] is one of the best authenticated facts in history. But
it is here needful to point out two other distinct events which have
often been confounded with the commendation of Scotland, a confusion
through which the real state of the case has often been misunderstood.
In the eleventh century at least, if not in the tenth, the King of Scots
stood to his English over-lord in a threefold relation, grounded on
three distinct acts which are popularly confounded. In this matter, as
in so many others, prevalent ignorance is strengthened by inattention to
historical geography. As it is hard to make people understand that there
has not always been a kingdom of France including Marseilles and
Strassburg, perhaps even including Nizza and Chambery, so it is hard to
make people understand that there were not always kingdoms of England
and Scotland, with the Tweed and the Cheviot Hills as the boundaries
between them. It must be borne in mind that in the tenth century no such
boundaries were known, and that the very names of England and Scotland
were only just beginning to be [Sidenote: Geography of Scotland,
Strathclyde, and Lothian in the tenth century.] heard. At the time of
the commendation the country which is now called Scotland was divided
among three quite distinct sovereignties. North of the Forth and Clyde
reigned the King of Scots, an independent Celtic prince reigning over a
Celtic people, the Picts and Scots, the exact relation between which two
tribes is a matter of perfect indifference to my present purpose. South
of the two great firths the Scottish name and the Scottish dominion were
unknown. The south-western part of modern Scotland formed part of the
kingdom of the Strathclyde Welsh, which up to 924 was, like the kingdom
of the [Sidenote: Relations of the three to one another and to the
English Crown.] Scots, an independent Celtic principality. The
south-eastern part of modern Scotland, Lothian in the wide sense of the
word, was purely English, as in language it remains to this day. It was
part of the kingdom of Northumberland, and it had its share in all the
revolutions of that kingdom. In the year 924 Lothian, like the rest of
Northumberland, was subject only to that precarious superiority on the
part of Wessex which had been handed on from Ecgberht and Ælfred, In the
year 924, when the three kingdoms, Scotland, Strathclyde, and
Northumberland, all commended themselves to Eadward, the relation was
something new on the part of Scotland and Strathclyde; but on the part
of Lothian, as an integral part of Northumberland, it was only a renewal
of the relation which had been formerly entered into with Ecgberht and
Ælfred. It is not uncommon to hear the vassalage of Scotland proper,
that is, the land north of the Forth and Clyde, mixed up with questions
about Cumberland and Lothian. But, at the time of the Commendation of
924, Lothian stood in no relation at all towards Scotland, except that
of simple, most likely not very friendly, neighbourhood. Strathclyde
[Sidenote: Since 908.] was already ruled by princes of the Scottish
royal house,[166] but it was still a kingdom quite independent of
Scotland. The transactions which brought Scotland, Strathclyde, and
Lothian into their relations to one another and to the English crown
were quite distinct from each other. They were as follows:—
First, The Commendation of the King and people of the Scots to Eadward
in 924.
Secondly, The Grant of Cumberland by Eadmund to Malcolm in 945.
Thirdly, The grant of Lothian to the Scottish Kings, either under Eadgar
or under Cnut.
[Sidenote: Popular confusions; true nature of the grant of Cumberland.]
These three events are perfectly distinct, and the relations created by
them are perfectly distinct; but, as always happens when several
relations and tenures co-exist, the three gradually got confounded
together, both in idea and in fact. Both in popular conception and in
the hands of partizan Scottish writers, the second of these three events
is made to obscure the other two. The grant by an English King to a
Scottish King of a country described as Cumberland is something too
clear to be denied; that the Scottish princes held their Cumbrian
dominions as a fief of the English crown, that they did homage for them
to the English King, no Scottish writer has ever ventured to call in
doubt.[167] In truth there seems never to have been any wish to call
this fact in doubt, because the Cumbrian homage, put forth sometimes
even in an exaggerated shape, has formed a convenient means of escape
from the fact of the homage for Scotland proper and from the fact of the
purely English character of Lothian. And the confusion of geographical
terms comes conveniently in. In modern language Cumberland means a
single shire which for ages has been undoubtedly English. In modern
language Lothian means three shires which for ages have been undoubtedly
Scottish. People are thus led to believe that Lothian was from all time
an integral part of Scotland, and also that the homage done by the
Scottish to the English King was done only for the county of Cumberland
as an integral part of England. But in the language of the year 945
Lothian was still an integral portion of England; Cumberland meant a
country, part of which is now English and part Scottish, but which up to
that time was neither English nor Scottish, but the seat of a distinct
Welsh principality. By Cumberland in short is meant, not merely the
modern English county so called, but all northern Strathclyde; that is,
modern Cumberland together [Sidenote: Circumstances of the grant of
Cumberland or Strathclyde.] with a considerable portion of modern
Scotland. In 945 the reigning King Donald revolted against his over-lord
Eadmund; he was overthrown and his kingdom ravaged;[168] it was then
granted on tenure of military service to Donald’s kinsman Malcolm King
of Scots. Malcolm could hardly have earned this favour except by sharing
in the war against Donald, which indeed his actual relation to the
English crown bound him to do. For a long time the fief then granted was
granted out again by the Scottish Kings as an apanage for their own
heirs-apparent. The southern part of this territory was afterwards, as
we shall see at a later stage of our history, [Sidenote: The part kept
by Scotland becomes merged in the Scottish kingdom.] annexed to England;
the northern part was kept by the Scottish Kings, and was gradually,
though very gradually, incorporated with their own kingdom. The
distinction between the two states seems to have been quite forgotten in
the thirteenth century; neither side in the controversies of that time
drew any distinction between the tenure of Fife and the tenure of
Galloway; the claims of the English crown were asserted, admitted, or
denied, [Sidenote: Original distinction between the position of
Strathclyde or Cumberland, and the position of Scotland proper.] equally
with regard to both. Yet the relations between England and Scotland
proper and the relations between England and Strathclyde or Cumberland,
though much the same in their nature, were wholly different in their
origin. The relation in which Scotland stood to England was one of
commendation; the relation in which Cumberland stood to England was one
of original grant. This last fact marks a distinct advance in feudal
ideas. Cumberland was from the beginning a real territorial fief.
Eadward did not grant Scotland to Constantine, because Scotland had
never been his; but Constantine and his people, by their own act, put
themselves in the same position as if it had been so granted. But
Eadmund really did grant Cumberland to Malcolm; he granted him a
territory which he had himself conquered, and which he might have kept
in his own hands. Cumberland in short—including, as must not be
forgotten, the south-western shires of modern Scotland—was held by the
Scottish King or his son as a feudal benefice in the strictest sense.
[Sidenote: Grant of Lothian.]
Cumberland then was truly a fief of the crown of England, but it was not
a fief held within the kingdom of England. This last position, popularly
thought to be the position of Cumberland, was really the position of
Lothian. The date of the grant of Lothian is not perfectly clear.[169]
But whatever was the date of the grant, there can [Sidenote: Lothian an
integral part of England.] be no doubt at all as to its nature. Lothian,
an integral part of England, could be granted only as any other part of
England could be granted, namely to be held as part of England, its
ruler being in the position of an English Earl. If the grant was really
made by Eadgar, this is still more likely to be the case, on account of
the unusual friendliness of the relations between Eadgar and Kenneth.
Eadgar might well grant, and Kenneth might well accept, a purely English
government, held by a tenure which would bind him still more closely to
his English over-lord than either his commendatory relation for Scotland
[Sidenote: Lothian gradually separated from England and merged in
Scotland.] or his feudal relation for Strathclyde. But in such a grant
the seeds of separation were sown. A part of the kingdom which was
governed by a foreign sovereign, on whatever terms of dependence, could
not long remain in the position of a province governed by an ordinary
Earl. The King of Scots, though holding all his dominions by various
kinds of dependent tenure, could not be dealt with in any portion of
them like a simple Earl of the Northumbrians. That the possession of
Lothian would under all ordinary circumstances remain hereditary, must
have been looked for from the beginning. This alone would distinguish
Lothian from all other earldoms. Though it was very common to appoint
the son of a deceased Ealdorman to his father’s dignity, still he had
not so much as a preferential claim; the office was held altogether at
the pleasure of the King and his Witan. But when a province was once
granted to a foreign prince, even though that prince remained a
feudatory of the English crown, this kind of control was parted with for
ever, or could be won back only at the cost of war. [Sidenote:
Distinction between Scotland, Strathclyde, and Lothian gradually
forgotten.] Lothian could not fail to become an hereditary dominion of
the Scottish Kings; it could not fail gradually to lose its distinct
character and the remembrance of its distinct tenure, and to be
gradually merged in the mass of the other dominions of its rulers. By
the time of the great controversy of the thirteenth century the
distinction seems to have been forgotten on both sides, exactly as it
was in the case of Strathclyde. The claims of the English King were the
same over the whole country, over Scotland, Strathclyde, and Lothian;
they were put forward as a whole, and they were accepted or rejected as
a whole. Yet, when we weigh the claims of Edward the First by the letter
of the compacts of the tenth century, if we pronounce them to go a
little beyond the mark in the case of Scotland proper, we must equally
pronounce them to fall a little under the mark in the case of Lothian.
The fact is that the progress of feudal ideas had wiped out the
distinction, and had brought all tenures to the same level. The
alternative by that time had come to be whether Scotland, as a whole,
that is, Scotland proper, Scottish Strathclyde, and Lothian, should be a
fief of England or an independent kingdom. That Scotland, Strathclyde,
and Lothian were originally all dependencies of England, but held in
three different degrees of dependence, had passed out of mind on both
sides.
[Sidenote: Later history of Lothian.]
It was then to be expected that Lothian, when once granted to the King
of Scots, should gradually be merged in the kingdom of Scotland. But the
peculiar and singular destiny of this country could hardly have been
looked for. [Sidenote: Lothian becomes the historical Scotland.] Neither
Eadgar nor Kenneth could dream that this purely English province would
become the historical Scotland. The different tenures of Scotland and
Lothian got confounded; the Kings of Scots, from the end of the eleventh
century, became English in manners and language; they were not without
some claims to the crown of England, and not without some hopes of
winning it. They thus learned to attach more and more value to the
English part of their dominions, and they laboured to spread its
language and manners over their original Celtic territory. They kept
their ancient title of Kings of Scots, but they became in truth Kings of
English Lothian and of Anglicized Fife. A state was thus formed,
politically distinct from England and which political circumstances
gradually made bitterly hostile to England—a state which indeed kept on
a dark and mysterious Celtic background, but which, as it appears in
history, is English in laws, language, and manners, more truly English
indeed, in many respects, than England itself remained after the Norman
Conquest. As in so many other cases, the people took the name of their
sovereign; the English subjects of the King of Scots learned to call
themselves Scots and their country Scotland. Meanwhile the true Scots to
the north of them, the original subjects of the Scottish dynasty,
forsaken as it were by their natural princes, became the standing
difficulty of their government. The true Scots are known in history only
as a mass of turbulent tribes, alien in customs, language, and feeling
from those who had taken their name—tribes which the Kings of
Dunfermline and Edinburgh had much ado to keep in even nominal
subjection—tribes which, by a strange turning about of relations, were
ready to fight for their English over-lord against the Kings of
Dunfermline and Edinburgh. [Sidenote: Analogy between the history of
Scotland and of Switzerland.] The history of Scotland is in many
respects strikingly analogous to the history of Switzerland. I pass by
the singular likeness in the national character of the two peoples, a
likeness to be traced alike in the virtues and in the defects of each. I
speak only of the outward facts of their history. In the case of
Switzerland, parts of the German, Burgundian, and Italian nations were,
through a variety of political causes, detached from the main body of
their respective countrymen, and became united by a close political tie
to one another. They thus formed an artificial nation,[170] a political
and historical [Sidenote: Their position as artificial nations.] nation,
but not a nation of common blood and speech. In the case of Scotland,
portions of the English, Welsh, and Irish[171] nations were in like
manner detached from the main body of their own people; they became in
like manner politically connected with one another, and grew in like
manner into an artificial nation. In both cases it is often amusing to
hear men claim as their forefathers those who were the bitterest enemies
of their real forefathers. But in both cases it is more important to
mark, what the history both of Switzerland and of Scotland abundantly
proves, that an artificial nation of this kind is capable of as true and
honourable national feeling as any nation of the most unmixed blood and
language. The history both of Switzerland and of Scotland presents so
many materials for honest pride that it is a pity that exaggerations and
perversions of history should have ever been allowed to step in in
either case. And, to cite one point more of likeness, each people has
drawn its national name from a very small portion of its territory and
population. Switzerland, German, Burgundian, and Italian, has taken its
common name from the single small canton of Schwyz. Scotland, English,
Welsh, and Gaelic, has taken its common name from the original small
colony of Irish Scots who settled on the coast of Argyllshire.
[Sidenote: Case of Wales analogous to that of Scotland.]
I have dwelt on the Scottish question at length, both because of its
intrinsic importance, and because the relations between the crowns of
England and Scotland will call for constant notice in the course of our
history. The case with regard to Wales is the case of Scotland over
again. The homage of the Welsh Kings was always due, and was constantly
exacted, from the days of Ecgberht and Eadward onwards. The only
difference was in the [Sidenote: 1283.] final result. Wales was
incorporated with the English [Sidenote: 1328.] kingdom at the close of
the thirteenth century; Scotland obtained perfect independence in the
fourteenth. The life of one man made all the difference. The great
Edward lived thoroughly to secure his Welsh conquest; before he had
thoroughly secured his Scottish conquest, his mission had passed to a
son who could not keep his crown on his head at home.
Before we leave this subject, it may be well to remember what the
relations between a dependent kingdom and its superior lord really were.
The King of the English did not, by virtue of the commendation, claim
any jurisdiction within the dominions of his vassals. The individual
inhabitant of Scotland stood in no relation to [Sidenote: The relation
between Scotland and England international only.] the English King.[172]
The relation was a purely international one. The King and people of the
Scots chose the King of the English as their Father and Lord; it became
his duty to protect them against their enemies, and it became their duty
to serve him against his enemies. But with the internal management of
the Scottish kingdom he had no concern, nor did this or that individual
[Sidenote: The relation often broken on both sides.] Scot become his man
or his subject. Such was the The relation often broken on both sides.
relation; as we go on, we shall see its engagements broken on both
sides. We shall find the Scottish vassal more than once breaking through
his duty of fidelity, and [Sidenote: 1000.] we shall once at least find
the English over-lord of Strathclyde breaking through his duty of
protection, setting up an unjust claim to a tribute which was not
imposed by the original grant, and cruelly harrying the land in revenge
for a perfectly justifiable refusal of his demands.[173] But such
breaches of duty on both sides are in no way peculiar to England and
Scotland; they form a very large portion of the history of any two
[Sidenote: Delicate nature of the relation.] countries between which
such relations existed. The truth is that the feudal or commendatory
relation is a very delicate relation, one which offers constant
temptations to a breach of its duties on both sides, temptations which,
[Sidenote: Analogy with colonial relations.] in a rude age, must often
have been irresistible. The relation is not identical with the modern
relation between the mother country and its colonies and dependencies,
but there are many points of analogy between the two. And we all know
well how very delicate the relation always is between the metropolis and
its colony. But the point to be borne in mind is that the English
over-lord of Scotland, Strathclyde, and Wales claimed no sovereignty
within those countries, but only a superiority over them. He claimed
such a superiority as the King of the French exercised, or claimed to
exercise, over the Duke of the Normans. The relation was less close than
the relation between the Emperor and the German princes, as no common
Diet looked after the common interests of [Sidenote: Attendance of the
Welsh and Scottish princes in the Witenagemót.] all. That the Scottish
and Welsh princes had the right, which they most likely deemed a
burthen, of attending the meetings of the English Witan is certain; it
is equally certain that the attendance of the Scottish and Cumbrian
princes was exceedingly rare.[174] And at any rate they must have come
only in their personal capacity, to transact any business which they
might have with their over-lord and his counsellors. We cannot suppose
that the English Gemót was ever attended by any Scottish or Welsh Witan
beyond the immediate suite of the Scottish and Welsh Kings. The Kings
came, because they were the men of the English over-lord; but the
private Scot or Briton was not the man of the English over-lord, and had
no need to attend the assembly which he summoned. As little can we deem
that the English Gemót took on itself to make laws for Wales or
Scotland. Neither can we deem that the Welsh and Scottish princes,
though they sign the acts of the Gemóts at which they were present, took
any active share or interest in purely English affairs.
The King of the English was thus over-lord or external superior of all
the princes of the isle of Britain. [Sidenote: Statement of the case as
to the Imperial titles.] In that character, our Kings, from the days of
Æthelstan onwards, bore titles beyond those of ordinary royalty, titles
which in strictness belonged only to the successors of Charles and of
Constantine. They appear in their public acts as _Basileus_, _Cæsar_,
_Imperator_, _Imperator Augustus_.[175] [Sidenote: 1st. Are they to be
taken as seriously implying Imperial claims?] Several questions at once
arise. Are these titles mere outpourings of vanity, mere pieces of
inflated rhetoric, mere specimens of the turgid style of the tenth
century? Or do they imply a serious claim on the part of the English
Kings to be looked on as something more than mere Kings, to be deemed
the peers of the lords of Imperial [Sidenote: 2nd. If so, are they to be
traced uninterruptedly to the old provincial Emperors?] Rome, Old and
New? And if they do imply such a claim, from what was that claim
understood to be derived? Did the Emperors of Britain in the tenth
century inherit, or claim to inherit, their Imperial rank from the
provincial Emperors who reigned in Britain in the third, fourth, and
fifth centuries? Are we to trace an uninterrupted succession of Imperial
sovereignty from Carausius onwards, through Maximus, Constantine,[176]
Aurelius Ambrosius, and the eight Bretwaldas, down to the _Imperatores_
and _Basileis_ of the days succeeding the commendations of Scotland,
Wales, and Strathclyde? Or are we to see in these titles [Sidenote: 3rd.
Or are they borrowed from the style of the contemporary Emperors,
through a feeling that the position of the English King was an Imperial
one?] merely an imitation of the style of the contemporary Roman
Emperors, Eastern and Western—an imitation not grounded solely on a love
of sounding titles, but on a feeling that the English sovereignty was in
some sort greater than that of ordinary Kings, that it had something in
common with that of the Emperors, that in truth the King of the English
held in his own island a position answering to that which the Emperor of
the Romans held in the rest of the world? These questions have given
rise [Sidenote: The third alternative the true one.] to a large amount
of controversy. My own belief, briefly to sum it up, is that vanity and
the love of sounding titles may well have had some secondary share in
the matter, but yet that these titles were seriously meant as a distinct
assertion of the Imperial position of the English crown. But I do not
believe that there was the least thought of any succession from the
ancient provincial Emperors, or from any phantom of Imperial sovereignty
which may have lingered on among the Welsh at the time of the English
Conquest or afterwards. I believe that these titles were taken in order
to claim for the English crown an absolute independence of the Roman
Empire, and at the same time to assert its right to a superiority over
all the princes of Britain of the same kind as that which the Emperor
exercised, or claimed to exercise, over all the princes of the mainland.
I believe in short that, as the Metropolitan of England was sometimes
spoken of as Pope of another world,[177] so the King of the English
claimed to be Emperor of the same island world, a world over which the
Lord of the greater world at Rome or at Constantinople had no authority.
I will now go on to give the reasons for the conclusions to which I have
come.
[Sidenote: Turgid style of the Latin]
It is undoubtedly true that the Latin charters of our Kings during the
latter half of the tenth century are [Sidenote: Charters of the tenth
century.] the most turgid and absurd of all human compositions. Nothing
is said straightforwardly; no idea is expressed by the word which would
most naturally occur to express it. The Latin language is ransacked for
strange and out of the way terms; and when Latin fails, the writers draw
on whatever store of Greek they enjoyed. They turn the whole into a
piebald or mongrel language, something like the jargon of English
lawyers in the seventeenth century.[178] When such a taste prevailed, it
was no wonder that the names of King, Ealdorman, and Bishop were thought
not [Sidenote: Prevalent use of Greek and other strange titles.] grand
enough, and that the dignitaries of Church and State were described by
strange, foreign, and often quite unintelligible titles, Roman, Greek,
Persian, anything that came uppermost. Again, it is no less true that
[Sidenote: This affectation hardly known in the English Charters.] this
sort of affectation is almost wholly confined to the Latin charters.
Those which are drawn up in English are for the most part simple and
business-like, and in them the use of Imperial titles is much
rarer.[179] Still I [Sidenote: The Imperial titles then conveyed a
distinct meaning, and were not likely to be taken up at random.] cannot
look on such titles as _Basileus_, _Imperator_, _Imperator Augustus_, as
mere outbursts of swelling rhetoric. We must remember that they were all
formal titles, titles to which a very distinct meaning was attached,
titles which expressed a special position and which carried with them a
special reverence, titles which were not then, as they are now, taken up
at random by every upstart who, half in shame, half in self-conceit,
shrinks from calling himself by the straightforward title of King. Any
one who knows what the mediæval theory of the Empire was will understand
that for a man to call himself _Imperator Augustus_ was in those days no
light matter. It was a thing which the vainest potentate would hardly do
without some kind of reason for it. For an ordinary King to call himself
Emperor was very nearly as strong a measure as it would have been for an
ordinary Archbishop [Sidenote: Force of the word _Basileus_.] to call
himself Pope. _Basileus_ again, the favourite title of all, was one
specially Imperial; by a caprice of language it had become the Greek
equivalent of _Imperator_; it was the special title of the Eastern
Emperors, the assumption of which by any other prince was held by them
to be an infringement of their sole claim to represent the old Roman
sovereignty. It is hard to believe that our Kings would have assumed a
title surrounded by such associations, one which had been made the
subject of many disputes, merely to make a sentence in a charter sound
more swelling. It is hard to believe that they would have assumed it
without a direct intention to claim thereby a distinctly Imperial
sovereignty. Still, considering the fondness for Greek titles and Greek
words of all kinds which the charters so constantly display, if the
title of _Basileus_ stood alone, it might not be safe to lay [Sidenote:
Still more distinct import of the other titles.] too much stress upon
it. But when we also meet with _Cæsar_, _Imperator_, and _Augustus_, it
is impossible to believe that any title of the class was assumed without
a meaning. Whatever we say of the Greek title of _Basileus_, these Latin
titles at least were not vague descriptions borrowed from a strange and
half unintelligible language. They were titles in familiar use, titles
which every one understood, titles which the diplomacy of the age
studiously applied to one potentate and to one potentate only. They were
titles whose force and use must have been perfectly well known to every
man who understood the Latin language. It is utterly inconceivable that
such titles should have been [Sidenote: The titles meant to assert an
Imperial position.] taken up at random. They could have had no object
but to claim for the prince who assumed them a sovereignty of the same
kind as that which belonged to the prince for whom they were commonly
reserved.
Granting then that the assumption of the Imperial titles had a meaning,
and that it was not a mere piece of rhetorical vanity, the second
question follows;—Was there any real continuous Imperial tradition
handed on from the days of the provincial Emperors, or were the Imperial
titles simply assumed in imitation or rivalry or whatever it is to be
called, of the contemporary German, Italian, and Byzantine Emperors? My
own conviction is [Sidenote: No continuous tradition from the provincial
Emperors.] very decidedly on the latter side.[180] I do not see how any
continuous Imperial tradition could have been handed on from a Roman
ruler in Britain to a West-Saxon King. Every circumstance of the English
Conquest shuts out such a belief. It is likely enough that in Wales and
Cornwall memories might still linger on from the days when Cæsars and
Augusti reigned in Britain. It is likely enough that Aurelius or Arthur
or any other Welsh leader may have put forward some kind of Imperial
pretensions. But that these princes should have handed on such rights or
claims to their English conquerors and destroyers seems to me utterly
inconceivable. We have seen in the last Chapter how completely the
English Conquest of Britain differed from all other Teutonic conquests.
Elsewhere the conquerors became more or less Romanized; they rejoiced to
receive from the reigning Emperor the investiture of some Roman dignity,
some empty title of Consul or Patrician. From the assumption of the
Imperial dignity itself our whole race shrank with a kind of
superstitious awe till the spell was broken by the coronation of the
great Charles. This last motive indeed was one which could have no
effect upon the mind of Ælle or Ceawlin; but its place would be fully
supplied by utter ignorance, carelessness, and contempt for the titles
and institutions of the vanquished. Consul, Patrician, Augustus, all
would be [Sidenote: Real position of the “Tyrants” or provincial
Emperors.] alike unintelligible and despicable in their eyes. And,
before we rule that an English Bretwalda or an Emperor of Britain was in
any sense a successor of the so-called Tyrants[181] or provincial
Emperors, let us remember what the position of these Tyrants or Emperors
really was. Carausius, Maximus, Constantine, and the rest, never called
themselves Emperors of Britain. According to the strict Imperial theory,
an Emperor of Britain is an absurd impossibility; the titles assumed by
Eadgar are in themselves as ridiculous as the titles assumed by those
who in later times have called themselves “Emperor of Austria,” “Emperor
of Hayti,” “Emperor of Mexico,” “Emperor of the French.” The Emperor is
essentially Lord of Rome and of the World; and it was only by setting
itself up as being in some sort another world that Britain could lay any
claim to either a Pope or an Emperor of its own. [Sidenote: Not Emperors
of Britain, but pretenders to the whole Roman Empire while possessing
only a part.] But the very last thought of the old Tyrants or provincial
Emperors would have been to claim any independent existence for Britain,
Gaul, or any other part of the Empire of which they might have gained
possession. Nothing could be further from their wishes than to set up
anything like a separate national kingdom. They were pretenders to the
whole Empire, if they could get it, and they not uncommonly did get it
in the end. A man who began as tyrant often became a lawful Emperor,
either by deposing the reigning Emperor or by [Sidenote: Carausius.
286–294.] being accepted by him as his colleague. Carausius, the first
British Emperor according to this theory, held not only Britain but part
of Gaul. It must not be thought that part of Gaul had been annexed to
the dominions of a national sovereign of Britain, as Calais was by
Edward the Third and Boulogne by Henry the Eighth. Britain and part of
Gaul were simply those parts of the Roman Empire of which Carausius, a
candidate for the whole Empire, had been able actually to possess
himself. At last Carausius was accepted as a colleague by Diocletian and
Maximian, and so became a lawful Cæsar and Augustus. [Sidenote:
Allectus. 294–297.] Allectus was less fortunate; he never got beyond
Britain, and instead of being acknowledged as a colleague, he was
defeated and slain by Constantius. Constantius himself reigned in
Britain; but no one would call Constantius a British Emperor, and
Carausius was a British Emperor [Sidenote: Magnentius. 350.] just as
little. Magnentius, Maximus, Constantine, were simply Emperors whose
career began in Britain and not in [Sidenote: Maximus. 383–388.] Syria
or Africa; they were not content to reign as British [Sidenote:
Constantine. 407.] Emperors or Emperors of Britain; they speedily
asserted their claim to as large a share of the Roman world as they had
strength to win and to keep. Now it is perfectly possible, especially if
any of the Welsh princes were descendants of Maximus, that a remembrance
of these Emperors may have survived in Britain, and it is not unlikely
that the conquest of Gaul by an Emperor who set forth from Britain may
be the kernel of truth round which much of the mythical history of
Arthur has [Sidenote: No analogy between these Emperors and the English
Bretwaldas.] gathered. But it is certainly hard to understand the
analogy between a Roman general, trying to obtain the whole Roman
Empire, but who is unable to obtain more than Britain or Britain and
Gaul, and a Teutonic chief, winning by his own sword some sort of
superiority over the other princes, Celtic and Teutonic, within the isle
of Britain. The essence of the position of Carausius and his successors
is that they aspired to an universal dominion, and with such dominion
any independent or national existence on the part of Britain would have
been utterly inconsistent. The essence of the position of an English
Bretwalda or Basileus is that he is the very embodiment of an
independent national existence, that he aspires to a dominion purely
insular, that he claims supremacy over everything within the island, but
aspires to no conquests beyond it. He is a “Wielder of Britain,” Emperor
so far as he is independent of either continental Empire, Emperor so far
as he exercises Imperial power over vassal princes within his own
island. I can see no likeness between him and a Roman general, who
aspires to reign on the seven hills, but who is unluckily shut up
against his will within the four seas of Britain.[182]
I infer then that the Imperial style which was affected by our Kings
from Æthelstan onwards was not derived by any continuous tradition from
any earlier British or Roman [Sidenote: Explanation to be found in the
circumstances of the time.] Empire. It is in the circumstances of their
own kingdom, and in the general circumstances of Europe during the ninth
and tenth centuries, that we must look for the causes which led them to
challenge Imperial rank. Ecgberht, [Sidenote: Charles and Ecgberht.] it
should not be forgotten, was the friend, the guest, and no doubt the
pupil, of Charles the Great.[183] Ecgberht [Sidenote: 802.] was chosen
to the West-Saxon throne two years after the Old Rome re-asserted, in
the person of Charles, her right to choose her own Emperor. We cannot
doubt that, through his whole career, he had Charles before him as his
model, and that his object was to win for himself the same kind of
dominion in his own island which Charles had won on the continent. But
Ecgberht never assumed any higher style than that of King of the
English, and even that, as far as we know, but once only.[184] In his
days the unity of the Western Empire still remained unbroken under his
benefactor and his benefactor’s son. It was enough for the West-Saxon
King to feel himself well nigh the only independent prince in Western
Christendom, [Sidenote: The plans of Ecgberht, checked yet in the end
helped by the Danish invasions, were fully carried out by Eadward and
Æthelstan.] without setting himself up as a rival Emperor. The schemes
of Ecgberht, checked under his immediate successors by the Danish
invasions, were in the end really promoted by those invasions, through
the weakening and destruction of the other English kingdoms. At last his
whole plan was carried out in the latest days of Eadward, and it was
established in a more thoroughly organized form by Æthelstan. The whole
isle of Britain was now, in different degrees of subjection and
dependency, under the supreme dominion of the West-Saxon Kings. Now, and
not before, begins the use of the Imperial titles. [Sidenote: Greatness
of the position of Æthelstan.] Æthelstan, in whose reign the connexion
between England and the continent was unusually busy, Æthelstan, Lord of
all Britain, connected by marriage and friendship with all the greatest
princes of Europe, could hardly fail to take in the greatness of his own
position. He might well feel [Sidenote: His assumption of the Imperial
style.] himself to be the peer of Emperors. He was the one prince whose
dominions had never, since his own nation entered them, acknowledged any
superiority in the lord of either Rome. Of our island at least might be
said, whether in honour or in reproach,
“De tributo Cæsaris nemo cogitabat;
Omnes erant Cæsares; nemo censum dabat.”[185]
[Sidenote: Points of analogy between his position and that of the
Emperors.] Whatever vague and transitory homage Cæsar may have received
from Scots or Northumbrians, it is certain that no King of the
West-Saxons ever knew a superior beyond the limits of his own island.
But, from the days of Ecgberht onwards, every King of the West-Saxons
had claimed or aspired to a superiority of his own through the whole
extent of his own island; and now Æthelstan had converted those lofty
dreams into a living reality. Gaul, Spain, Italy, Denmark, the Slavonic
and other less known lands beyond the Elbe, all had bowed to the
dominion of the first Teutonic Cæsar. To England alone he had been a
model and a counsellor, but not a master. As the one perfectly
independent prince in Western Christendom, Æthelstan was the equal of
Emperors, and within his own island he held the same position which the
Emperors held in the rest of the world. Like an Emperor, he not only had
his own kingdom, governed under him by his own Dukes or Ealdormen, but
his kingdom was surrounded by a circle of vassal princes who paid to him
the homage which he himself paid to no superior upon earth. As no other
prince in Western Christendom could claim for his own kingdom the same
perfect independence of all Imperial superiority, so no other prince in
Western Christendom could show, in a crowd of dependent princes, so
perfect a reproduction of the Imperial majesty. And [Sidenote: No
universally acknowledged Emperor at this time.] it must not be forgotten
that during the first half of the tenth century there was not, as there
was before and after, any one Emperor universally acknowledged by all
the Christian states of the West. The days of the Carolingian Cæsars
were past; the days of the Saxon Cæsars were not yet come. Guy, Lambert,
Berengar, [Sidenote: 888–896.] were Augusti not less fleeting, and far
more feeble, than any of the tyrants of whom Britain had once been so
fertile. The King of the English and Lord of all Britain might well feel
himself to be a truer representative of Imperial greatness than Emperors
whose rule was at most confined to a corner of Italy. He was, beyond all
doubt, the second among Western Kings. The Kings of the Eastern Franks,
not yet Emperors in formal rank, but marked out in the eyes of all men
as the predestined heirs of Charles, were the only rulers who could be
held to surpass him in power and glory. Without waiting for any formal
coronation, the soldiers of Henry and Otto had saluted their victorious
Kings as _Imperatores_ and _Patres Patriæ_, and, with the same feeling,
Æthelstan assumed, or received from his counsellors, the titles which
placed [Sidenote: Revival of the Empire under Otto [962], not likely to
make the English Kings withdraw their Imperial claims.] him on a level
with them. The new birth of the Empire during the reign of Eadgar, the
coronation of Otto the Great, which at once restored to the Imperial
crown no small share of its ancient power and dignity, would by no means
tend to make our princes lay aside any Imperial claims which they had
already asserted. Eadgar was on the best terms with his Imperial uncle;
still it might be thought needful to assert that England owed him no
kind of homage, and that the other princes of Britain owed homage to
Eadgar and not to Otto.
Here then, as it seems to me, and not in any traditions of Ambrosius or
Carausius, is to be found the true explanation of the otherwise
startling title of Emperor of [Sidenote: Full import of the Imperial
titles.] Britain. That title was meant at once to assert the
independence of the English crown upon any foreign superior, and to
assert the dependence of all the other powers of Britain upon the
English crown. It was meant to assert that the King of the English was,
not the homager but the peer, alike of the Imperator of the West and of
the Basileus of the East, and it was meant to assert that Scots, Welsh,
and Cumbrians owed no duty to Rome or to Byzantium, but only to their
Father and Lord at [Sidenote: They go out of use after the Norman
Conquest, because insular dominion is no longer the chief object.]
Winchester. The Imperial titles last in common use down to the Norman
Conquest; after that their employment is rare, and they gradually die
out altogether. And why? Because the Norman and Angevin Kings, though
they were by no means disposed willingly to abate a tittle of the rights
of their predecessors within the four seas of Britain, were far from
looking on insular dominion as the main object of their policy. They
were Kings of England, and they knew the strength and value of England;
some of them had wisdom enough to value England for her own sake; still
in the eyes of all of them, one main value of England was to serve as a
nursery of men and a storehouse of money to serve their plans of
continental ambition. They were Kings of England, but they were also
Counts of Anjou, Dukes of Normandy and Aquitaine, striving after an
equality with their liege lord at Paris, sometimes perhaps after a
superiority over him. The British Empire in which Æthelstan gloried, and
in which Cnut in the midst of his Northern triumphs gloried no less, was
assuredly not despised by the wisdom of Henry of Anjou. But if it was
one object of his policy, it was not the only one. In the eyes of the
Poitevin knight-errant who came after him, it seemed hardly worth
keeping; and it was something which could not be kept in the grasp of
John and Henry the [Sidenote: The old claims take a more strictly feudal
shape under Edward the First.] Third. At last in the great Edward there
again arose a true Bretwalda, one who saw that the dominion of Æthelstan
and Eadgar was a worthier prize than shadowy dreams of aggrandizement
beyond the sea. But by this time the notion of a British Empire had
given way to more purely feudal ideas, and his claims to supremacy took
their shape [Sidenote: Later traces of the ideas.] accordingly. But
traces of the old ideas still lingered on. Through the fourteenth, the
fifteenth, the sixteenth centuries, a chain of instances may be put
together which show that the idea of an Empire of Britain was not wholly
forgotten.[186] Even when no Imperial claims were put forward on behalf
of England, it was thought needful carefully to shut out all claims on
the part of any other power to Imperial supremacy over England. And in
the sixteenth century, along with the revived study of our early
history, the Imperial titles themselves revive in a more definite form.
The Imperial character of the English sovereignty was strongly asserted
both by Henry the Eighth and by Elizabeth. In the days of Charles the
Fifth a denial of all dependence on the Roman Cæsar may have been no
less needful than a denial of all dependence on the Roman Pontiff. Henry
may well have deemed it prudent to take the same precautions against his
Imperial nephew which Eadgar had taken against his Imperial uncle.
Protests of the like sort were again made in the reign of Elizabeth. We
find her more than once formally described as Empress, an Empress whose
Empire reached from “the Orcade isles to the mountains Pyrenee.” In this
last description we find the key to the style. An Empire implied
subordinate kingdoms. Elizabeth claimed to be Empress as being
independent of the continental Emperor; she also claimed to be Empress
as having a royal vassal within her own island. The same phrases which
assert the independence of England upon the Austrian Emperor also assert
the dependence of Scotland upon the English Empress.[187]
This then I believe to be the true account of the Imperial titles and
Imperial pretensions of the English Kings in the tenth and eleventh
centuries. Our Kings meant to assert at once their own perfect
independence and the dependence of the other princes of Britain upon
them. [Sidenote: Growth of the English system of dependencies.
827–1869.] It is perhaps worth notice that in all this we may see the
beginnings of a system which has gone on to our own day. From the days
of Ecgberht onwards the House of Cerdic has never been without its
dependencies. Their sphere has gradually been enlarged; as nearer
dependencies have been incorporated with the central state, another more
distant circle of dependencies has arisen beyond them. Wessex held the
supremacy over England; England held it over Great Britain; Great
Britain held it over Ireland and a crowd of smaller islands and
colonies; the United Kingdom holds it over colonies and dependencies of
every kind, from Man to New Zealand. Since the days of the Roman
Commonwealth, no other land has had so large an experience of the
relations between a central power and half-incorporated states of
various kinds. [Sidenote: Imperial character still retained by England.]
In this sense, England is now a more truly Imperial power than any other
in the world. Putting aside the local associations of Rome and
Constantinople, no modern state comes so near to the notion of an Empire
as understood either by Æthelstan or by Otto. There is therefore an
historical meaning in the familiar phrases of “the British Empire” and
“the Imperial Parliament,” whether any remembrance of ancient Bretwaldas
and Basileis was or was not present to the minds of those who devised
them.
[Sidenote: Summary.]
I thus bring to an end my survey of the political condition of England
and its dependent states in the tenth and eleventh centuries. The
dominion won by Eadward and Æthelstan was handed over unimpaired to
William the Bastard. We have seen what that dominion was. There was a
home monarchy in which the power of the King was strictly limited by
law, but in which his personal influence was almost unbounded. There was
also an external lordship over a body of vassal princes who had the
right and the duty, though perhaps but seldom the will, to appear in the
Great Council of their Over-lord along with the Bishops and Ealdormen of
his own realm. [Sidenote: The old Kingdom and Empire transferred to
William.] This dominion was, by the forced election of the English
Witan, transferred to the hands of the Norman Conqueror. Under his
successors the character of the monarchy [Sidenote: Gradual changes]
gradually altered, but it altered far more through a change in the
spirit of the administration than through actual [Sidenote: after the
Conquest.] changes in the laws. The power of the crown was vastly
increased in the hands of William and his sons, and in other respects
the kingdom gradually changed from the old Teutonic to the later
mediæval form. But it was always the constitutional doctrine that
William, a legal claimant of the crown, received the crown as it had
been held by his predecessors. It follows that a thorough knowledge of
the position of those predecessors, of the nature of their authority and
of the limits on their power, is absolutely necessary, if only to
understand the position of the Norman Kings, what changes they made and
what changes they did not make. What was the real nature and amount of
those changes, political and social, will be shown in my last volume.
And, along with them, I shall deal more specially with some points, like
language and art, the earlier forms of which are most fittingly treated
of by way of comparison with their later forms. For the present we turn
for a while from the history and state of England as they stood under
Ælfred and his immediate successors, to trace out the early history of
the land which became closely connected with England in the course of
the tenth century, and which sent forth the conquerors of England in the
eleventh.
CHAPTER IV.
SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF NORMANDY DURING THE TENTH CENTURY.[188]
The two foreign conquests of England which form the main subject of
English history during the eleventh century were the work of nations
which came originally of the same stock. First came the Danes
themselves; [Sidenote: Normans and English originally kinsmen.] then
came the Normans, the descendants of Danish or other Scandinavian
settlers in Gaul. In mere blood therefore the Normans were allied in
different degrees to all the Teutonic inhabitants of Britain, and they
were very closely allied to the descendants of the Danish settlers in
the North and East of England. And there can be little doubt that this
original community of blood really had an important practical effect,
and that the speedy fusion of Normans and English was greatly promoted
by the fact that conquerors and conquered were in truth kinsmen.
[Sidenote: Practical, but unrecognized, effects of this kindred.] But
this influence was a purely silent one, and it was in no way
acknowledged by those on whom it acted. Neither side thought at all of
any kindred as existing between them. And to all appearance, no two
nations of Western Europe could have been found which, in speech,
feelings, [Sidenote: The Danes in England become Englishmen.] and
manners, differed more widely from one another. The Danes who settled in
England had been easily turned into Englishmen. Though the likeness of
speech and institutions between the two nations has often been
exaggerated, it was something not only real but palpable. It needed no
historical research to find it out; it was something which men of both
nations could feel for themselves. Among the earlier Teutonic settlers
in Britain, we can well believe that there were some whose original
kindred with the Teutons of Scandinavia was quite as close as their
original kindred with some of their fellow Teutons in Britain. Anyhow,
the languages of the two nations were closely allied; their institutions
were very similar, those of England being doubtless the more advanced
and regularly organized of the two. Religion formed the main difference
between them; but the Danes in England soon adopted the Christian faith,
and they were followed, after no very great interval, by their brethren
in Denmark. Thus the Danish settler in England, when once baptized,
readily became an Englishman, differing from the Angle or the Saxon only
as the Angle and the Saxon differed from one another. This absorption
into a kindred nation is less remarkable than the fact that the same
people in another land adopted, with not much greater difficulty, a
language and culture which was wholly alien to them. [Sidenote: The
Danes in Gaul become Frenchmen.] For, as the Danes who settled in
England became Englishmen, so the Danes who settled in Gaul equally
became Frenchmen. The Normans of the eleventh century were men of
Scandinavian descent who had cast away every outward trace of the
language, manners, and feelings which made them kindred to Englishmen,
and had adopted instead the language, manners, and feelings of Latin
France. Before they landed in England, they had become Frenchmen; though
still proud of the Norman name, they were content, as speakers of the
French tongue, to call themselves Frenchmen in distinction from the
Teutonic English.[189] No doubt the old Scandinavian element was still
at work within them; it made them Frenchmen on a far nobler and grander
scale than other Frenchmen, and it enabled them, when they had once
settled in England, unconsciously but surely to become Englishmen.
Still, when they followed their Duke to the conquest of England, they
were in every outward respect no longer Scandinavians but Frenchmen. In
a word, they were no longer _Northmen_ but _Normans_; the change in the
form of the name aptly sets forth the change in those who bore it.[190]
§ 1. _General Effects of the Scandinavian Settlements in Gaul._
[Sidenote: Importance of the Norman settlement in Gaul.]
The settlement of the Northmen in Gaul, and their consequent change into
Normans, is the great continental event of the first half of the tenth
century; it challenges a place alongside of the restoration of the
Empire by Otto [Sidenote: Comparison of the settlements of Rolf and
Guthrum.] in the second half. Its beginnings indeed might seem small. A
band of Scandinavian pirates settled in Northern Gaul, exactly as
another band of Scandinavian pirates had, thirty years before, settled
in Eastern Britain. In both cases the sovereign of the invaded land
found it expedient to secure the safety of the rest of his dominions, by
surrendering a portion of them to the invader and by requiring baptism
and nominal homage as guaranties for peace and good neighbourhood. The
settlement of Rolf in Neustria exactly answers to the settlement of
Guthrum in East-Anglia. Charles the Simple and his counsellors may well
have justified their act by quoting the example of Ælfred himself. But
the results of the two events were widely different. The East-Anglian
and Northumbrian Danes were fused into the general mass of Englishmen,
and they were soon distinguished from other Englishmen by [Sidenote:
Results of the Norman settlement on general history.] nothing more than
mere provincial differences. But the settlement of Rolf in Neustria had
far wider results. It affected the later history of all Europe. The
Scandinavians in Gaul embraced the creed, the language, and the manners
of their French neighbours, without losing a whit of their old
Scandinavian vigour and love of adventure. The people thus formed became
the foremost apostles alike of French chivalry and of Latin
Christianity. They were the Saracens of Christendom, spreading
themselves over every corner of the world and appearing in almost every
[Sidenote: Their prominence in devotion,] character. They were the
foremost in devotion, the most fervent votaries of their adopted creed,
the most lavish in gifts to holy places at home, the most unwearied in
pilgrimages to holy places abroad. And yet none knew better how to hold
their own against Pope and prelate; the special children of the Church
were as little disposed to unconditional obedience as the most
stiffnecked [Sidenote: and in war.] of Ghibelines. And they were no less
the foremost in war; they were mercenaries, crusaders, plunderers,
conquerors; [Sidenote: Change of their tactics.] but they had changed
their element and they had changed their mode of warfare. No Norman
fleets now went forth on the errand of the old wikings; the mounted
knight and the unerring bowman had taken the place of the elder tactics
which made the fortress of shields invincible. North, south, east, the
Norman lances were lifted; and they were lifted in the most opposite of
causes. [Sidenote: Their exploits in the Eastern Empire,] Norman
warriors pressed into the remotest East to guard Eastern Christendom
against the first Turkish invader;[191] other Norman warriors were soon
found to be the most dangerous enemies of Eastern Christendom in its own
[Sidenote: 1071.] home. If the Norman fought by the side of Rômanos at
[Sidenote: 1081.] Manzikert, he threatened the Empire of Alexios with
overthrow at Dyrrhachion. His conquests brought with [Sidenote: in
England,] them the most opposite results in different lands. To free
[Sidenote: in Sicily.] England he gave a line of oppressors; to enslaved
Sicily he gave a line of beneficent rulers. But to England he gave also
a conquering nobility, which in a few generations became as truly
English in England as it had become French in Normandy. If he overthrew
our Harolds and our Waltheofs, he gave us a Fitzwalter and a Bigod to
win back the rights for which Harold and Waltheof had fallen. In the
arts of peace, like his Mahometan prototypes, he invented nothing; but
he learned, adapted, improved, [Sidenote: Influence of the Normans on
art; their welcome of foreigners.] and disseminated everything. He
ransacked Europe for scholars, poets, theologians, and artists. At
Rouen, at Palermo, and at Winchester, he welcomed merit in men of every
race and every language. He guided Lanfranc and Anselm from Lombardy to
Bec and from Bec to Canterbury. Art, under his auspices, produced alike
the stern grandeur of Caen and Ely and the brilliant gorgeousness of
Palermo and Monreale. In a word, the indomitable vigour of the
Scandinavian, joined to the buoyant vivacity of the Gaul, produced the
conquering [Sidenote: Disappearance of the Norman race,] and ruling race
of Europe. And yet that race, as a race, has vanished. It has everywhere
been absorbed by the [Sidenote: in Sicily,] races which it has
conquered. From both Sicilies the Norman has vanished as though he had
never been. And there too have vanished along with him the races which
he used as his instruments, and which he alone taught to work in
harmony. Greek, Saracen, and Norman have alike disappeared from the
realm of good King William. [Sidenote: in Britain.] In our own land the
fate of the Norman has been different. He abides in his lineage and in
his works, but he is Norman no longer. He has settled in every corner of
the British islands; into every corner of those islands he has carried
with him the inborn qualities of his own race, but in every corner of
those islands he has assumed the outward characteristics of the races
among which he settled. The Scottish Bruce or the Irish Geraldine passed
from Scandinavia to Gaul, from Gaul to England, from England to his own
portion of our islands; but at each migration he ceased to be
Scandinavian, French, or English; his patriotism was in each case
transferred to his new country, and his historic being belongs wholly to
the home which he had last won. In England itself the Norman has
vanished from sight no less than from Apulia and insular Sicily. He has
sunk beneath the silent and passive influence of a race less brilliant
but more enduring than his own. The Norman has vanished from the world,
but he has indeed left a name [Sidenote: Famous men of Norman descent.]
behind him. Of him came Richard the Fearless and William the Bastard; of
him came that Robert whose foot was first placed upon the ransomed
battlements of the [Sidenote: 1099.] Holy City, and that mightier Robert
who in one year [Sidenote: 1086.] beheld the Cæsars of East and West
flee before him.[192] [Sidenote: Frederick the Second.] And of his
stock, far more truly than of the stock of Imperial Swabia, came the
Wonder of his own and of all succeeding ages,[193]—poet, scholar,
warrior, legislator—the terror and the marvel of Christendom and of
Islam—the foe alike of Roman Pontiffs and of Moslem Sultans—who won
alike the golden crown of Rome and the thorny crown of Salem—dreaded in
one world as the foremost champion of Christ, cursed in another as the
apostate votary of Mahomet—the gay, the brave, the wise, the relentless,
and the godless Frederick.
[Sidenote: Effects of the Norman settlement on French history.]
But on no country was the effect of the Scandinavian settlement in Gaul
so deep as it was on Gaul itself. It may sound like a strange paradox,
but there can be little doubt that it was the settlement of the Northern
pirates which finally made Gaul French in the modern sense. Their
settlement was made during the transitional period of West-Frankish
history. The modern French nation and language were just beginning to
appear. Paris, not yet the capital, had been found to be the most
important military post in the kingdom, and the lords of Paris had shown
themselves to be its most vigorous defenders. [Sidenote: Period of
struggle in West-France. 887–987.] The tenth century was a period of
struggle between the Teutonic and the Romance tongues, between Laon and
Paris, between the descendants of Charles the Great and the descendants
of Robert the Strong.[194] The Norman stepped into the scene of
confusion, and he finally decided the quarrel in favour of the French
dynasty of [Sidenote: Origin of modern France.] Paris against the
Frankish dynasty of Laon. Modern France, we must ever remember, has no
part or lot in either of the two dynasties whose associations she so
persistently usurps, the Karlings and their predecessors the Merwings.
Till the ninth century there was no geographical division which at all
answered to modern France.[195] Charles the Great more than once
contemplated a division of his Empire; but not one of his proposed
divisions coincided even in the roughest way with the limits of the
[Sidenote: First glimpse of modern France.] kingdom of the Valois and
the Bourbons. Modern France makes its first indistinct appearance in the
division which was made on the death of Lewis the Pious. Then, for the
[Sidenote: 839.] first time, Northern and Southern Gaul, Neustria and
Aquitaine, were united to make the kingdom of Charles the Bald. The
kingdom thus formed was the first germ of modern France. It roughly
answers to its geographical extent, and, what is still more to the
purpose, we see that a new nation, with a new language, was springing up
[Sidenote: 843.] within it. The final settlement of Verdun confirmed the
existence of the new kingdom. The Empire was then divided into three
kingdoms, the Western, the Eastern, and the narrow debateable ground
between them, known as Lotharingia. This last kingdom fell to pieces,
while the kingdoms on each side of it grew, flourished, and contended
for its fragments. These are the two kingdoms of the East and the
West-Franks, which we are already sorely tempted to call by the familiar
names of Germany and France.
[Illustration: GAUL IN THE TENTH CENTURY.]
FOR THE DELEGATES OF THE CLARENDON PRESS.
Neustria and Aquitaine were never again formally separated [Sidenote:
1360.] till the Peace of Bretigny in the fourteenth century.[196]
[Sidenote: Union under Charles the Third. 885–887.] Neustria and
Austrasia, the kingdoms of the Western and the Eastern Franks, were
never again united except during the ephemeral reign of Charles the
Third or the Fat. That Emperor, the last who reigned over both the
Eastern and the Western Franks,[197] was deposed by common consent
[Sidenote: Division of the Empire. 888.] of his various Kingdoms. Four
kingdoms now appeared, answering to those of Germany, Italy, France, and
Burgundy. And now a more important step still was taken [Sidenote:
Kingdoms of East and West-Franks.] in the direction of modern France.
The Western Franks took to themselves a new dynasty and a new capital.
Since the death of the great Charles, the city on the [Sidenote: Growing
importance of Paris.] Seine, the old home of Julian, had been gradually
rising in consequence. It plays an important part during the reign of
his son Lewis the Pious. Characteristically [Sidenote: 830.] enough,
Paris first appears in Carolingian history as the scene of a conspiracy
against her Teutonic master. There it was that the rebels assembled who
seized and imprisoned, [Sidenote: Paris the chief bulwark against the
Northmen.] and at last deposed, the pious Emperor.[198] Later in the
ninth century Paris won for herself a more honourable renown; she became
the bulwark of Gaul against the inroads of the Northmen. The pirates
soon found out the importance of the position of the city in any attack
or defence of Gaul on her northern side. The Seine, and Paris upon the
Seine, now became the great objects of Scandinavian attack. Thrice in
the reign of Charles the Bald did the [Sidenote: Formation of the March
of Paris. 861.] invaders enter the city. At last a new power was formed,
chiefly with the object of defending Gaul from their attack. A large
district was granted in fief by Charles the Bald to Robert the Strong,
as a march or border territory, to be defended against the invading
Northman and the rebellious Breton. And of this march, under Robert’s
son Odo, Paris became the head. The power thus formed was destined to a
career which seems not unusual for such frontier districts. Rome
herself, then still the home of Empire, had begun her own career as a
march of the Latin against the Etruscan. So, in later times, the Mark of
Brandenburg, the outlying defence of Germany against the Slave, and the
Eastern Mark, her outlying defence against the Magyar, have, under the
names of Prussia and Austria, eclipsed the older names of Saxony,
Swabia, Bavaria, and Eastern Francia. So it was with this outlying march
granted to Count Robert by Charles the Bald. Paris now became a centre,
a capital; if not a royal, at least a ducal, city. The fief of Robert
grew into the duchy of France, and the duchy of France grew into the
kingdom. Robert himself became the forefather of the first Capets, of
the Valois, and of the Bourbons. [Sidenote: Paris defended by Odo.
885–886.] The great siege of Paris by the Northmen, and its gallant
defence by Count Odo, or Eudes, the son of Robert, greatly raised the
position alike of the city and of its lord. On the deposition of Charles
the Third ineffectual attempts were indeed made on behalf of other
candidates, but, in the [Sidenote: Odo elected King. 888.] end, Count
Odo was elected and consecrated to what now begins to be called the
Kingdom of France, a kingdom over [Sidenote: 1848.] which his
descendants were still reigning thirty years ago.[199]
Odo of Paris then became “Rex Francorum,” in a sense which, as applied
to his family, we cannot better represent than by the title of “King of
the French.” His own family was of German descent;[200] but, throughout
the following century, his dynasty represents, perhaps quite
unconsciously, the growing French nationality, just as the dynasty of
Laon represents the decaying Teutonic element. The Dukes and Kings of
Paris spoke French long before the end of the tenth century, while the
Karlings of Laon still spoke their ancestral Frankish.[201] The hundred
years’ struggle between the Carolingian house at Laon and the
Capetian[202] house at Paris now begins. This period falls naturally
into two stages. In the first stage, the lords of Paris directly
disputed the crown with the heirs of Charles; in the second, they
preferred the position of kingmakers to that of Kings. Odo was elected
as the hero of the siege of Paris, the true champion of Gaul and of
[Sidenote: Charles the Simple and Robert.] Christendom. But he soon
found a rival in Charles the Simple, whose only claim was the doubtful
belief that the blood of his great namesake flowed in his veins. It was
in the course of his troubled reign that the Scandinavian invaders made
that settlement in Gaul which grew into the Norman duchy. It was at his
hands that the first Norman Duke received the investiture of his
dominions. But the settlement was made at the immediate cost, not of the
Carolingian King at Laon, but of the Capetian Duke at Paris. It was from
France, in the strictest sense, that Normandy was cut off. The lord of
Rouen now stepped in as a kind of umpire between the two rival powers,
and throughout the whole struggle of the century no question was of
greater importance than whether the power of Normandy should be arrayed
on the side of Paris or on the side of Laon. We have now to record the
history of the Norman settlement itself, and the history of the Normans
in Gaul during the period of struggle, and to show how important an
element they were in determining the controversy in favour of the
competitor most foreign to their own ancient blood and speech.
§ 2. _Settlement and Reign of Rolf._ 911–927.
[Sidenote: Comparison of the Danish ravages in England and within the
Empire.]
The history of the ravages of the Northmen within the Empire, and of
their final settlement in Northern Gaul, reads like the tale of their
ravages and settlements in our own island told again. Their incursions
into the two countries were often closely connected. The same armies and
the same leaders are often heard of in Britain and in Gaul, and each
country drew a certain advantage from the sufferings of the other. Each
often enjoyed a season of comparative rest while the other was
undergoing some unusually fearful devastation. The two stories are
nearly the same, except that the Gaulish part of the tale especially
reads, so to speak, like one long reign of Æthelred from the very
beginning. There is nothing at all answering to our long succession of
great and victorious Kings from Ælfred onwards. That such was the case
was not wholly the fault of the princes who reigned in any part of the
Empire. The power of the great Charles had kept the heathen in awe, but
it is not granted to every man to [Sidenote: The progress of the Danes
favoured by the divisions in the Empire,] be a Charles or even an
Æthelstan. When the great Emperor was gone, when the terror of his name
was forgotten, ceaseless internal divisions made his Empire an easy
prey. Those divisions were themselves inevitable, but they brought with
them their inevitable consequences; the land lay open, almost
defenceless, before the enemy. Indeed the divisions were actually more
fatal because they [Sidenote: and by the partial unity which it
retained.] were not complete; the very amount of unity which the Empire
still kept proved a further source of weakness. The Empire did not at
once split up into national kingdoms, divided by ascertained boundaries,
each of them actuated by a national feeling and capable of national
resistance to an invader. The state of things was not unlike the elder
state of things in the days of the tyrants or provincial Emperors. In
those days each ambitious general gave himself out as Cæsar and
Augustus; he aspired to the whole Empire, and he held such portions of
it as he could win and keep. So now every King was a King of the Franks,
ready to hold so much of the common Frankish realm as he could win and
keep. Between potentates of this kind there could hardly be either the
same formal alliances, or the same sort of international good
understanding, which may exist between really distinct nations, each of
which is assured of its own position. None of the rival Kings could feel
sure that any other King would help him against the common enemy. None
of them could feel sure that some other King might not seize the
opportunity of a Danish inroad to deprive him of his kingdom, or even
that he might not league himself with the heathen invaders against him.
It followed therefore that the invaders never encountered the whole
strength of the Empire, that they seldom encountered the whole strength
even of any one of its component kingdoms. The Carolingian princes, as
far as mere vigour and ability goes, have been grossly and unfairly
depreciated.[203] The truth is that most of them were men of by no means
contemptible natural gifts, but that they were, partly by their own
fault, partly by force of circumstances, placed in a position in which
they could not use their real vigour and ability to any good purpose.
Thus the whole second half of the ninth century is taken up with almost
uninterrupted incursions of the Scandinavian pirates on the whole coast
of both the Eastern [Sidenote: Position of Germany,] and the Western
kingdoms. Germany indeed, owing to the inland position of the greater
part of her territory, remained comparatively unscathed. She suffered
far more from the Magyars than she suffered from the Northmen. Still the
whole Saxon and Frisian coast was as cruelly ravaged as any other part
of Europe, and the great rivers afforded the heathens the means of
making their way far [Sidenote: Gaul,] into the interior of the country.
The Western Kingdom, with its far greater extent of sea-board, suffered
far more [Sidenote: and Italy.] severely than the Eastern. Even the
Mediterranean coasts of Burgundy and Italy were not wholly spared,[204]
though in those seas the Northman was less to be dreaded than the
Saracen. In all these countries we find the same kind of devastations
which we find in England. In the course of the history, we come across
many noble examples of [Sidenote: Instances of resistance to the
invaders.] local resistance to the invaders, and several examples of
considerable victories gained over them. But we nowhere find any such
steady check put to their progress as marks the first half of the tenth
century in England. That is to say, no Carolingian prince had the means,
even if he had the ability, to carry out the vigorous policy of Eadward
the Elder. Yet it would be unjust to withhold their due share of honour
from several kings and princes who at [Sidenote: Victory of Arnulf,
891;] least did what they could. The Emperor Arnulf in the [Sidenote: of
Lewis, 881.] East,[205] the young King Lewis in the West,[206] gained
glorious and, for the moment, important victories over the invaders, and
the triumph of Lewis is commemorated in one of the earliest surviving
efforts of High-German poetry.[207] The great siege of Paris and its
defence by Odo have already been spoken of as among the determining
causes which led in the end to the change of dynasty. But such victories
were, after all, mere momentary checks; they delivered one part of the
country at the expense of another, and the evil went on till it was
gradually cured by various indirect [Sidenote: The ravages cease as the
Northmen settle and become French.] means. As in England, the Northmen
gradually changed from mere plunderers into conquerors and settlers.
Instead of ravaging the whole country, they occupied portions of it.
Thus they gradually changed, not only into members of the general
commonwealth of Christendom but into Frenchmen, distinguished from other
Frenchmen only by the large share of their inborn Scandinavian vigour
which [Sidenote: No attempt at political conquest, as in England.] they
still kept. As the North became more settled and Christianized, as it
began to form a political system of its own, the mere piratical
incursions gradually ceased, but the attempt at a complete conquest of
the whole country, which was successfully tried in England, was never
attempted in Gaul. No King of all Denmark or of all Norway ever tried to
displace a King of the West-Franks and to reign in his stead over his
kingdom. The insular position of Britain, the original kindred between
Danes and Englishmen, the actual occupation of so large a portion of the
country by earlier Danish settlers, all helped to make such a design
possible in England, while even the powers of Swegen or Cnut could
hardly have succeeded in carrying out such a scheme in Gaul.
[Sidenote: Scattered settlements of the Northmen in Gaul.]
The Northmen settled largely in Gaul, but they nowhere occupied any such
large unbroken sweep of territory as that which became the _Denalagu_ in
England. No such large extent of coast lay so invitingly open to them,
and it does not appear that there was any one Danish invasion of Gaul on
so great a scale as the great Danish invasion of England under Ingwar
and Hubba. The Danish settlements in Gaul were therefore scattered,
while in England they were continuous. The Danes in England therefore,
though they gradually became Englishmen, still kept on a distinct local
existence and local feelings, and they continued to form a distinct and
important element in the country. But the Danish settlers in Gaul,
holding a district here and a district there, sank much more completely
into the general mass of the inhabitants. Some of these settlements were
a good way inland, like Hasting’s settlement at Chartres.[208] Ragnald
too occupied, at least for a while, the country at the mouth of the
Loire.[209] But these settlements led to no permanent results. One alone
among the Scandinavian settlements in Gaul was destined to play a real
part in history. This was the settlement of Rolf or Rollo at Rouen.
[Sidenote: The Rouen settlement; its exceptional importance.]
This settlement, the kernel of the great Norman Duchy, had, I need
hardly say, results of its own and an importance of its own which
distinguish it from every other Danish colony in Gaul. But it is well to
bear in mind that it was only one colony among several, and that, when
the grant was made, it was probably not expected to be more lasting or
more important than the others. But, while the others soon lost any
distinctive character, the Rouen settlement lasted; it grew, it became a
power in Europe, and in Gaul it became even a determining power. It is
perhaps the unexpected developement of the Rouen settlement, together
with the peculiar turn which Norman policy soon took, which accounts for
the bitterness of hatred with which the Northmen of Rouen are spoken of
by the French writers down to at least the end of the tenth century. By
that time they had long been Christian in faith and French in speech,
and yet the most truly French writer of the age can never bring himself
to speak of them by any other name than that of the _Pirates_.[210] To
this feeling we see nothing at all analogous in English history. We see
traces of strong local diversities, sometimes rising into local
jealousies, between the Danes in England and their Anglian and Saxon
neighbours; but there is nothing to compare with the full bitterness of
hatred which breathes alike in the hostile rhetoric of Richer and in the
ominous silence of the discreet Flodoard.
[Sidenote: Rolf or Rollo the founder of the settlement.]
The lasting character of his work at once proves that the founder of the
Rouen colony was a great man; but he is a great man who must be content
to be judged in the main by the results of his actions. The authentic
history of Rolf, Rollo, or Rou,[211] may be summed up in a very short
space. We have no really contemporary narrative of his actions, unless a
few meagre and uncertain entries in some of the Frankish annals may be
thought to deserve that name. I cannot look on the narrative of our one
Norman writer, put together, from tradition and under courtly influence,
a hundred years after the settlement, as at all entitled to implicit
belief. Even less faith is due to Northern Sagas put together at a still
later time. The French authors again are themselves not
contemporary,[212] and their notices are exceedingly brief. I therefore
do not feel myself at all called upon to narrate in detail the exploits
which are attributed to Rolf in the time before his final settlement. He
is described as having been [Sidenote: Earlier exploits of Rolf.
876–911?] engaged in the calling of a wiking both in Gaul and in Britain
for nearly forty years before his final occupation of Rouen,[213] and he
is said to have entered into friendly relations with a King Æthelstan in
England. This Æthelstan has been confounded, in the teeth of all
chronology, with our great Æthelstan, but it is clear that the person
intended is Guthrum-Æthelstan of East-Anglia.[214] In all this there is
nothing improbable, but we can hardly look upon it as certain. And the
exploits attributed to Rolf are spread over so many years,[215] that we
cannot help suspecting that the deeds of other chieftains have been
attributed to him, perhaps that two leaders of the same name have been
confounded. Among countless expeditions in Gaul, Britain, and Germany,
we find Rolf charged with an earlier visit to Rouen,[216] with a share
in the great siege of Paris,[217] and with an occupation or destruction
of Bayeux.[218] But it is not till we have got some way into the reign
of Charles the Simple, not till we have gone through several years of
the tenth century, that Rolf begins clearly to stand out as a personal
historic [Sidenote: Rolf in possession of Rouen. 911.] reality. He now
appears in possession of Rouen, or of whatever remains of that city had
outlived his former harryings. From that starting-point he attacked
Chartres. [Sidenote: Defeat of Rolf at Chartres. 911.] Beneath the walls
of that city he underwent a defeat at the hands of the Dukes Rudolf of
Burgundy and Robert of Paris, which was attributed to the wonder-working
powers of the great local relic, the under-garment of the Virgin.[219]
But this victory, like most victories over the Northmen, had no lasting
effect. Rolf was not dislodged from Rouen, nor was his career of havoc
and conquest at all seriously checked. But, just as in the case of
Guthrum in England, his evident disposition to settle in the country
suggested an attempt to change him from a wasting enemy into a
[Sidenote: Peace of Clair-on-Epte. 912.] peaceable neighbour. The Peace
of Clair-on-Epte was the fellow of the Peace of Wedmore, and King
Charles and Duke Robert of Paris most likely had the Peace of Wedmore
before their eyes. [Sidenote: Comparison with the Peace of Wedmore.] A
definite district was granted to Rolf, for which he became the King’s
vassal; he was admitted to baptism, and received the King’s natural
daughter in marriage. And, just as in the English case, the territory
granted was not part of the King’s immediate dominions. No part of
Wessex was granted to Guthrum; he was merely confirmed in the possession
of the lands which he had already conquered at the expense of the
[Sidenote: Advantage of the cession to the Crown.] other English
kingdoms. Ælfred, as I have already shown,[220] though he lost as an
over-lord, gained as an immediate sovereign by the closer incorporation
of a large part of Mercia with his own kingdom. Charles also gained by
the settlement of Rolf, though certainly not in the same direct way. His
immediate territories were not increased, but they were at least not
diminished; the grant to Rolf was made at the cost, not of the Frankish
[Sidenote: The cession made at the expense of the Duchy of Paris.] King
at Laon but of the French Duke at Paris. The district ceded to Rolf was
part of the great Neustrian march or duchy which had been granted to Odo
of Paris, and which was now held by his brother Duke Robert. Rouen was
thus, from the very beginning, something taken away from Paris, and
which cut off Paris from the sea. Still the Parisian duchy was not so
utterly broken up as the kingdoms of Northumberland, East-Anglia, and
Mercia had been; the King had therefore no opportunity of annexing any
part of the dominions of Robert, as Ælfred had of annexing a large part
of the dominions of Burhred. Still Charles was strengthened indirectly.
Duke Robert had to yield to manifest destiny. He had lost Rouen, and his
only way to keep Paris was to enter into friendly relations with the new
lord of Rouen. [Sidenote: Prominent agency of Duke Robert.] Robert was
therefore the chief mover in the whole business; he was Rolf’s godfather
at his baptism and gave him his own Christian name. The Duke thus made
the most of his loss; but to the King the transaction was a distinct
gain. He got two vassals instead of one, two vassals whose relations to
one another were likely to be dangerous, and between whom it might often
be easy to play off one against the other. Events soon proved that the
King had gained a far more faithful vassal in the new proselyte to
Christianity and French culture than he already possessed in the
turbulent and dangerous lord of Paris. At a later time we shall find the
relations between Laon, Rouen, and Paris altogether changed; but for a
while the Northmen of the Seine were the firmest support [Sidenote: The
Normans the chief support of Charles the Simple.] of the Carolingian
throne. During all the later warfare of the reign of Charles the Simple,
Rolf clave steadily to the cause of the lord whose man he had become.
The Duke of Rouen had no object in opposing the King of Laon, while, by
supporting him, he might easily gain an increase of territory at the
expense of his nearer neighbours.
[Sidenote: Tale of Rolf’s homage to Charles.]
The legendary details of Rolf’s homage to Charles are familiar to every
one. It is a well-known tale how Rolf was called on to kiss the feet of
his benefactor, how he refused with an oath, how he bade one of his
followers to perform the degrading ceremony in his stead, how the rude
Northman did indeed kiss the King’s foot, but only by lifting it to his
own mouth to the imminent danger of the monarch’s seat on his
throne.[221] The tale may rest on a true tradition, or it may be a mere
invention of Norman vanity; in either case alike it sets forth the
original spirit of the men who were to become the noblest
representatives of the system within whose pale they were now entering.
[Sidenote: Rolf the vassal of Charles.] But whatever was the exact form
of the homage, there can be no reasonable doubt that Rolf became, in the
full [Sidenote: Exaggerated claims of independence made] sense of the
word, the vassal of King Charles.[222] The interested and extravagant
Norman writers constantly assert an entire independence on the part of
the colonists [Sidenote: by the Norman writers.] and their chief. The
land was granted, but it was granted as a pure allodial possession; the
Duke of the Normans, though he did not bear the kingly title,
nevertheless held, as a King, the monarchy of the Norman land.[223] If
anything, it was King Charles who swore fealty to Rolf rather than Rolf
who swore fealty to King Charles. All this we may safely put aside,
partly as the deliberate creation of Norman vanity, partly as the
inflated rhetoric of an author who was writing as the mere laureate of
the Norman court. The historian’s own tale of the homage, with its real
or mythical incidents, is of itself enough to upset his constitutional
theories. That Rolf did homage is plain enough, and, on Rolf’s death,
his successor in the duchy [Sidenote: Little practical submission
implied in the homage.] renewed the homage. But I must again repeat the
caution how little of real subjection is implied in such vassalage at
any time, and how purely nominal it became whenever the lord was weak
and the vassal strong. Rolf became King Charles’s man and King Charles
became Rolf’s lord; but the obligation, after all, amounted to little
more than an obligation of mutual defence; all internal sovereignty over
the ceded land passed to Rolf without reserve. In the hands of Charles
the Great or of Æthelstan such an over-lordship as this was a reality;
in the hands of Æthelred or of Charles the Simple it was a mere name.
Yet Rolf undoubtedly proved a really faithful vassal to King Charles. No
doubt his interest happily coincided with his duty. Still we can well
believe that in a new Christian and a new vassal, and a man evidently
disposed honestly to do his duty in his new state of life, the sense of
right and wrong, in this as in other respects, may well have been far
stronger than it was in Dukes of Paris or Burgundy who had long been
used to form and to break such engagements with equal ease.
It must not be thought that the district now granted to [Sidenote:
Extent of the territory granted to Rolf.] Rolf took in the whole of the
later duchy of Normandy. Rouen was the heart of the new state, which
took in lands on both sides of the Seine. From the Epte to the sea was
its undoubted extent from the south-east to the north. But the western
frontier is much less clearly defined. On the one hand, the Normans
always claimed a certain not very well defined superiority over Britanny
as part of the original grant. On the other hand, it is quite certain
that Rolf did not obtain immediate possession of what was afterwards the
noblest portion of the heritage of his [Sidenote: The Bessin and the
Côtentin later acquisitions.] descendants. The _Bessin_, the district of
Bayeux, was not won till several years later, and the _Côtentin_, the
peninsula of Coutances, was not won till after the death of Rolf. The
district granted to Rolf was doubtless, as in the case of Guthrum,
mainly determined by the extent of his actual possessions. If, as is
most likely, the Dive was the western boundary, the ceded territory
answered to nothing in earlier geography, civil or ecclesiastical. It
was larger than the diocese of Rouen; it was very much smaller
[Sidenote: No geographical name for the “Terra Northmannorum.”] than the
province. As a new division, it had—sharing therein the fate of Germany
and France—no recognized geographical name. Its inhabitants were the
Northmen, the Northmen of the Seine, the Northmen of Rouen. The land
itself was, till near the end of the century, simply the Land of the
Northmen,[224] a land capable of indefinite extension. So in Britain the
vague description of the _Denalagu_ supplanted the ancient names and
boundaries of more than one Old-English kingdom. The title of the chief
was as little fixed as the name of his dominions; he is Prince, Duke,
Count, Marquess, Patrician,[225] according to the taste of each writer.
In the mouths of vigorous and plain-spoken enemies his people are only
the Pirates, and himself the leader of the Pirates, down to the end of
the century.[226]
[Sidenote: Internal government of Rolf known only from its results.]
Of Rolf’s internal government, of the laws and institutions of the new
state, of the details of the settlement of the country, we know
absolutely nothing. Norman tradition sets Rolf before us as the mirror
of princes, as the type of that class of ruler which that age most
valued, the stern, speedy, impartial, minister of justice.[227] But we
may judge of the reign of Rolf from its results. What Normandy became
shows plainly enough that its first prince must have been a worthy
forerunner of our own Cnut. Once settled in the land, he seems to have
become as eager for its welfare as he had before been for its
devastation. He must have promoted the general adoption, not only of the
religion, but of the speech and manners of his neighbours. Otherwise
Normandy could never have played the part which it did play even in the
next reign, nor could his capital have become so thoroughly French as it
was within a short time after his [Sidenote: No records of early Norman
history.] death. But of the early institutions and early internal
history of Normandy all records have perished, or, more probably, no
records ever existed. We have no chronicles, no charters, nothing
whatever to guide us but the results. [Sidenote: The settlement probably
analogous to the Danish settlement in England.] From such indications as
we have we may perhaps infer that the settlement was, on the whole, of
much the same kind as the Danish settlement in England.[228] We cannot
conceive any systematic extirpation or expulsion of the older
inhabitants, such as accompanied the English Conquest of Britain. At the
same time we can well believe that, after so many years of systematic
havoc at the hands of the wikings, large districts may have stood almost
as empty and untilled as if such systematic [Sidenote: Evidence from the
peasant revolt. 997.] extirpation or expulsion had taken place. But it
is certain that, a hundred years after the conquest, there was a
peasantry at once oppressed enough and powerful enough to rise in a
well-organized revolt.[229] Though in Normandy, as in England, the
condition of the private settlers is likely to have gradually sunk,
still we cannot believe that any descendants of the original conquerors
could, in so short a time, have been brought down to such utter bondage.
These peasants must have been mainly the descendants of the original
Gauls, with whatever intermixture of Roman and Teutonic elements the
successive conquests of the country had brought with them. [Sidenote:
Probable position of the races in the country.] Probably the landowners,
great and small, were almost universally of Scandinavian descent, while
the remnant of the original population had been brought down to a state
of serfdom. It is certain that there is nothing in English history at
all answering to this insurrection till we come to the great revolt of
the villains of the fourteenth century. This difference seems to point
to a wholly different condition of the lower orders in the two
countries. [Sidenote: Vestiges of the Danish language.] As regards the
language of Normandy, the Danish tongue has utterly vanished out of the
land; it had vanished out of the greater part of the land even before we
reach any contemporary records; still considerable vestiges, strangely
disguised as they are, may to this day be made out in the local
nomenclature. In Northern Gaul, just as in Eastern England, many a place
lost its name, and took a new name from its new Scandinavian lord. Here
and there also we find descriptive names, meaningless in French, but
which are, with a slight effort, intelligible in English.[230] These
may, according to their geographical position, be either remnants of the
Danish speech of Rolf and his followers or remnants of the speech of an
earlier Teutonic settlement in part of the country of which I shall
presently have to speak. Of the early political condition of the duchy
we have absolutely no [Sidenote: Normandy not an absolute monarchy.]
account. On the absence of such information one illustrious
inquirer[231] has grounded a theory that Normandy had no assembly, no
Parliament, no Estates of any kind, but that the Duke, Marquess,
Patrician, or whatever he is to be called, ruled without any restraint
on his personal will. I confess that I find it impossible to accept a
theory so utterly repugnant to the analogy of every other Teutonic
people. If there be any truth in Norman tradition, the followers of
Rolf, as long as they stayed on ship-board, acknowledged no lord, and
professed principles of the most extreme democratic equality.[232]
However this may be, it is not likely that, as soon as they were settled
on land, they should at once cast away those free institutions which
were common to them with all the [Sidenote: Instances of the action of
the States.] other branches of the common stock. And there is evidence
enough to show that an assembly of some kind was often consulted from
the very beginnings of the Norman state, and especially that the
transfer of the ducal crown from one prince to another was effected with
much the same forms as the same change would have called for in
England.[233] At the same time I fully admit that to fix the exact
constitution of the Norman assembly at this early time would be still
harder than to fix the exact constitution of an English Witenagemót. The
little light which we have may perhaps enable us to infer that it put on
an aristocratic character almost from the beginning. It has also been
supposed that, unlike perhaps every other assembly of the kind, it
contained no ecclesiastical members;[234] but if this was the case in
the earlier days of the duchy, the rule had clearly been relaxed before
the reign of the great William.
[Sidenote: Rolf’s attachment to the Carolingian party.]
We must remember that we are now in the very thick of the struggle
between the two dynasties of Laon and Paris. The Norman stepped in as if
sent to be the fated arbiter between the two. When Rolf made his
settlement, Charles the Simple was the acknowledged King of the
West-Franks; from him he received his grant; with him he entered into
the mutual engagements of lord and vassal. With him and his dynasty Rolf
sided, and he probably saved the Carolingian crown from utter overthrow,
just as a change of policy in his successors finally decided the
[Sidenote: End of the Karlings in Germany. 912.] same controversy the
other way. It must be remembered that, in the year of Rolf’s settlement,
the Carolingian line came to an end in the Eastern Kingdom. The
East-Frankish Duke Conrad was now raised to the Teutonic throne, and was
presently followed by Henry of Saxony. But Lotharingia refused to
acknowledge either of the Kings so chosen. The border land appears
throughout our history as ever fluctuating between the Eastern and
Western kingdoms. But Lotharingian policy was dictated by one
intelligible rule, that of unswerving loyalty to the Carolingian house,
wherever its representative might be [Sidenote: Lotharingia attaches
itself to Charles the Simple.] found. So now Lotharingia transferred its
allegiance to the single Karling who still kept the royal title, and
acknowledged the King of Laon as its lord. The power of Charles was thus
directly strengthened to the East, while it was indirectly strengthened
by the grant to the Northmen in the West. This increase of power on the
part of Charles probably led to the conspiracy which soon broke out
against [Sidenote: Robert of Paris chosen King. 922.] him, and which
issued in the election of Robert of Paris as an opposition King. In the
wars which followed, Charles [Sidenote: Rolf sides with Charles.] rested
to a great extent on the arms of the Northmen, both Rolf’s settled
Northmen of the Seine and the Northmen of the Loire, the followers of
Ragnald, who had not [Sidenote: Robert killed at Soissons. 923.] yet won
so distinct a local habitation.[235] When Robert was killed at Soissons,
his son Hugh the Great refused the crown for himself. He was known as
Duke of the French, [Sidenote: Rudolf of Burgundy chosen.] and,
satisfied with that title, he bestowed the kingly name on his
brother-in-law Rudolf, Duke of French Burgundy.[236] [Sidenote:
Imprisonment of Charles at Peronne. 923.] Charles was afterwards
treacherously seized and imprisoned by Rudolf’s fellow-conspirator
Herbert Count of Vermandois, in the same fortress in which in after days
a King [Sidenote: 1468.] of France was imprisoned by a Duke of
Burgundy.[237] Rolf’s combined policy and loyalty led him to refuse all
allegiance [Sidenote: War between Normandy and France. 923–927.] to the
usurpers. A war of several years followed between him and the French of
Paris under Duke Hugh. The horrors of warfare were not felt on one side
only. The Norman land was twice invaded, and Rolf’s fortress of Eu, its
chief defence on its north-eastern border, was taken by storm.[238] But
these incursions were more than repaid in kind; a large _Danegeld_ was
more than once paid to Rolf, and was levied throughout France and
Burgundy,[239] and the [Sidenote: Acquisition of Maine and Bayeux. 924.]
general results of the war left Rolf in possession of a most important
increase of territory. He obtained the district of Bayeux; he obtained
also a more fully recognized superiority over Britanny, and it is also
distinctly asserted that [Sidenote: Abdication [927?] and death [932?]
of Rolf.] he obtained a grant of the land of Maine.[240] Rolf did not
long survive these successes; the year of his death is uncertain; but it
seems most likely that, by the consent—perhaps at the demand—of the
estates of his principality, he resigned [Sidenote: William Longsword
succeeds, and does homage to Charles. 927.] the government in favour of
his son William, surnamed Longsword.[241] A change in the policy of
Herbert of Vermandois had restored Charles to freedom and to some
nominal measure of authority. The new prince of the Northmen therefore
paid to the true Carolingian King the homage which his father had paid
before him, but which he had steadily refused to the Parisian and
Burgundian pretenders.
[Sidenote: Value of Rolf’s last acquisition.]
The acquisition of the territory which this last war added to the
dominions of Rolf was inferior in importance only to the original
acquisition of Rouen. And it is only on the ground of its being the
original acquisition, the beginning and starting-point of the whole
settlement, that the possession of Rouen itself can be looked on as more
important than the possession of the noble region which [Sidenote:
Maine.] was now added to the Land of the Northmen. Maine indeed was the
most precarious of all possessions. The struggles for its retention and
recovery, the adventures of its gallant Counts and of its no less
gallant citizens, form no small part of the later history of the Norman
[Sidenote: The _Bessin_.] duchy. But the acquisition of Bayeux and its
territory gave Normandy all that created and preserved the genuine and
Norman character; it gave her the cities which are adorned with the
noblest works of the days of her independence; it gave her the spot
which was to be the earliest home of her mightiest son. Caen, around
whose castle and whose abbeys so much of Norman and French history was
to centre—Bayeux itself, the see of the mighty Odo, where the tale of
the Conquest of England still lives in the pictured history which forms
its most authentic record—Cerisy, with its stern and solemn minster, the
characteristic work of the Conqueror’s father—Falaise, immortal as the
birthplace of the Conqueror himself—all these historic spots lie within
the region which the last warfare of the reclaimed wiking had added to
the Norman land. [Sidenote: The Saxon colony at Bayeux;] Bayeux itself
is a city whose history has an especial claim on the attention of
Englishmen. Nowhere, out of the Old-Saxon and Frisian lands, can we find
another district of continental Europe which is so truly a brother-land
of our own. The district of Bayeux, occupied by a Saxon colony in the
latest days of the old Roman Empire,[242] occupied again by a
Scandinavian colony as the result of its conquest by Rolf, has retained
to this day a character which distinguishes it from every other
Romance-speaking [Sidenote: its lasting influence on the district.]
portion of the continent. The Saxons of Bayeux kept their name and their
distinct being under the Frankish dominion;[243] we can hardly doubt
that the Scandinavian settlers found some parts at least of the district
still Teutonic, and that nearness of blood and speech exercised over
them the same influence which the same causes exercised over the
Scandinavian settlers in England. Danes and Saxons were welded together
into one Teutonic people, and they kept their Teutonic language and
character long after Rouen had become, in speech at least, no less
French than Paris. With their old Teutonic speech, the second body of
settlers seem to have largely kept their old Teutonic faith. We shall
presently find Bayeux the centre of a heathen and Danish party in the
duchy, in opposition to Rouen, the centre of the new speech and the new
creed. The blood of the inhabitants of the Bessin must be composed of
nearly the same elements, mingled in nearly the same proportions, as the
blood of the inhabitants of the Danish districts of England.[244] To
this day there is no Romance-speaking region of the continent in which
an Englishman feels himself so thoroughly at home as in this old Saxon
and Danish land. In every part of Normandy, as compared with France or
Aquitaine,[245] the Englishman feels himself at home; but in the
district of Bayeux he seems hardly to have left his own island. The
kindred speech indeed is gone; but everything else remains. The land is
decidedly not French; men, beasts, everything, are distinctively of a
grander and better type than their fellows in the mere French districts;
the general aspect of the land, its fields, its hedges, all have an
English look. And no contrast can be greater than that which may be
often seen between the tall, vigorous, English-looking, Norman yeoman,
out of whose mouth we instinctively feel that the common mother-tongue
ought to come, and the French soldier, whose stature, whose colour,
whose every feature, proclaims him to be a man of another race, and
whose presence proclaims no less unmistakeably that the glory of
Normandy has passed away.
§ 3. _Reign of William Longsword._ 927–943.
Rolf, the converted pirate, died, according to his Norman [Sidenote:
Religion of Rolf.] admirers, in the odour of sanctity.[246] According to
the wild reports of his enemies, he mingled the two religions, and,
while making gifts to the Christian churches, offered Christian captives
in sacrifice to his Scandinavian idols. Such a strange confusion is
possible at some earlier stage of his career; but we need much better
evidence than we have to convince us that he was guilty of any such
doings just before his death.[247] But, whatever traces of heathendom
may have cloven to Rolf himself, it is certain that his son [Sidenote:
Birth and education of William Longsword.] William Longsword, half a
Frenchman by birth, was almost wholly a Frenchman in feeling. His mother
was French; but he did not spring from the union of the converted
Northman with the royal blood of the West-Franks. Gisla bore no children
to her already aged husband, and William was the son of a consort who
both preceded and followed her in his affections. She was known as Popa,
whether that designation was really a baptismal name or, as some hint, a
mere name of endearment. She was the daughter of a certain Count
Berengar, and was carried off as a captive by Rolf when he took Bayeux
in his pirate days.[248] Her brother, Bernard Count of Senlis, plays an
important part in the reigns of his nephew and great-nephew. Popa and
her son seem to have stood in a doubtful position which they share with
more than one [Sidenote: Norman and Frankish laxity as to marriage.]
other Norman Duke and his mother. Rolf and Popa were most likely
married, as the phrase was, “Danish fashion,”[249] which, in the eyes of
the Church, was the same as not being married at all. A woman in such a
position might, almost at pleasure, be called either wife or concubine,
and might be treated as either the one or the other. Her children might,
as happened to be convenient, be either branded as bastards or held
entitled to every right of legitimate birth. Rolf put away Popa when he
married King Charles’s daughter, and when King Charles’s daughter died,
he took Popa back again.[250] So William, Popa’s son, put away Sprota,
the mother of his son Richard, when he married Liudgardis of
Vermandois.[251] This strange laxity with regard to marriage, though
spoken of as something specially Danish, was in truth hardly more Danish
than Frankish. The private history of the Frankish Kings, Merwings and
Karlings alike, is one long record of the strangest conjugal relations.
Ordinary concubinage is not amazing anywhere; what stands out specially
conspicuous in the history of these Kings—nowhere more conspicuous than
in the history of the great Charles—is the liberty which they assumed of
divorcing their Queens at pleasure, and sometimes of having several
acknowledged Queens at once. [Sidenote: William Longsword French rather
than Danish.] William, born of a doubtful union of this kind, was far
more French than Danish in feeling. His tutor was Botho, a Danish
companion of Rolf, but one who threw himself thoroughly into the French
and Christian interest. Such an education made William familiar with the
language and feelings of both classes of his subjects; but his own
sympathies lay with the speech, as well as with the creed, of his
mother; he was more at home in Romanized Rouen than in Teutonic Bayeux.
In the existing state of things, divided as the duchy was between the
Danish or heathen and the French or Christian party, the personal
sympathies of the prince were of the highest importance, and there can
be no doubt that the French feelings and Christian convictions of
William had a most decisive effect on the history of the Norman
state.[252]
The first great event in the internal history of the duchy [Sidenote:
Breton revolt. 931.] during the reign of William is a general revolt of
its Breton dependencies. This event was probably not unconnected with
the general course of affairs in Gaul. At William’s accession, two
Kings, Charles the Simple and Rudolf of Burgundy, disputed the crown of
the West-Franks. William, as we have seen, became the vassal of
[Sidenote: William’s attachment to the cause of Charles. His peace with
Hugh and Herbert. 928.] Charles, and refused all submission to Rudolf.
Even in finally making peace with his great French neighbours, Hugh of
Paris and Herbert of Vermandois, William made it a condition that
Herbert should do homage to Charles as he himself had done. Herbert, it
should be remembered, was himself of Carolingian descent, and might have
further designs of his own. It was only on these terms that William
restored Herbert’s son, who had been given to his father Rolf as a
hostage.[253] Charles remained for some while a puppet in the hands of
Herbert, brought forth as a sovereign or confined as a prisoner, as
suited the ever-shifting [Sidenote: Death of Charles the Simple. 929.]
relations of Herbert, Hugh, and Rudolf. At last the unhappy descendant
and namesake of the great Emperor died in bonds at Peronne, whether
actually murdered by Herbert, or simply worn out by sorrow and
captivity, it matters little.[254] Rudolf was now the only acknowledged
King, and he soon showed himself to be, in one respect at least, fully
worthy of his crown. The independent and unsettled Northmen of the Loire
had committed [Sidenote: King Rudolf defeats the Northmen of the Loire
at Limoges. 930.] great devastations in Aquitaine. King Rudolf overcame
them in a great battle at Limoges, where he utterly broke their power,
and procured the acknowledgement of his own supremacy over
Aquitaine.[255] It was probably this great defeat of one Norman army by
a King to whom no [Sidenote: The Bretons rise.] Norman had hitherto done
homage which encouraged the Bretons to make an attempt to throw off the
Norman yoke altogether. That yoke was of a twofold kind; there was the
more regular and endurable supremacy of the Norman Duke at Rouen, and
there was also the constant annoyance of small bands or colonies of
independent adventurers within their frontiers or upon their borders.
Under their princes, [Sidenote: Massacre of the Normans, Michaelmas
931.] Juhel Berengar and Alan, the Bretons rose; they made a massacre of
the Normans in their own country, which may have given a precedent for
the later massacre of the Danes in England.[256] The feast of Saint
Michael in the one case was what the feast of Saint Brice was in the
other. [Sidenote: The Bretons attack Bayeux.] Flushed with success, they
entered the Norman duchy, and attacked Rolf’s latest and most precious
acquisition, Teutonic Bayeux.[257] Alike under Saxon and under Norman
occupation, the Teutonic colony was a thorn in the side of the Celts,
which they were always eager to get rid of. [Sidenote: The revolt
crushed.] But William completely crushed the revolt, and its only result
was to bring all Britanny more completely under Norman control, and to
extend the immediate boundaries [Sidenote: Normandy gains the Côtentin
peninsula.] of his duchy. The districts of Avranches and Coutances, with
the noble peninsula to which the latter city gives its name, were now
added to the immediate Norman dominion.[258]
[Sidenote: High position of England under Æthelstan.]
At this point comes the first of many signs which we shall meet with in
the course of our story, all of which show the high position which
England held at this time, and the important influence exercised on
foreign politics by the renowned prince who now filled the West-Saxon
throne. In this, as in every other respect, all depended on the personal
character of the King. It was now exactly as it was ages later. England
under Æthelstan differed from England under Æthelred, just as England
under Elizabeth or Cromwell differed from England under the first or the
second pair of Stewarts. Through the whole of this period, the King of
the English, the common friend and kinsman of most of the contending
princes, appears as a dignified mediator among them. Through the
marriages of his sisters, some contracted before, some after his
election to the crown, Æthelstan was the brother-in-law of most of the
chief princes of Western Europe. [Sidenote: His connexion with most of
the Western Princes.] He stood in this relation to King Otto, to King
Charles, to King Lewis of Arles, to Duke Hugh of Paris, and to a
nameless prince near the Alps.[259] On the imprisonment [Sidenote:
Eadgifu and Lewis take refuge in England.] of Charles, his Queen
Eadgifu,[260] with her young son Lewis, had taken refuge in
England,[261] and the future King of the West-Franks was now learning
lessons of war and statesmanship at the hands of his glorious uncle. So
[Sidenote: Alan of Britanny does the like.] now, on the extinction of
the Breton insurrection, while Berenger submitted to the Normans, Alan
took shelter with Æthelstan,[262] as his father before him is said to
have taken shelter with Eadward. England might in either case seem a
strange place of refuge for a banished Armorican prince and his
following. The descendants of those who had originally fled before the
English conquerors now sought for safety in the very land from which
their forefathers had been driven. And at this particular moment such a
refuge might seem stranger than ever. The Breton exiles sought shelter
in England at the hands of the very King by whom the last footsteps of
Celtic independence in Southern Britain were trampled out. Æthelstan and
William of Rouen might well seem to be carrying out [Sidenote: Relations
of England with Normandy less friendly than with the other states.] the
same work on opposite sides of the sea. But a nearer tie of common
hostility might well at that moment unite the Breton and the Englishman.
Each was engaged in a struggle with Scandinavian intruders in his own
land. Between the Danes in England and the Danes in Normandy
communications never wholly ceased, and, long after this time, we shall
find the connexion between Denmark and Normandy directly affecting the
course of English events. The Normans and their Duke seem always to have
been on less intimate terms with England than most of the neighbouring
states; William stands almost alone among princes of equal rank in not
being honoured with the hand of a sister of glorious Æthelstan. The
Norman historian even puts forth a claim on the part of his Duke to a
dominion over England,[263] which is among the most ridiculous
outpourings of his lying vanity. Still such a boast speaks something as
to the feelings which existed between the Danes in Gaul and the great
destroyer of the Danish power in Britain. With Æthelstan then, the
common champion of Christian and civilized Europe, at the court which
was the common shelter of the oppressed, the common school of every
princely virtue, did the Breton prince, fleeing from his conqueror,
[Sidenote: Restoration of Alan. 936.] seek the safest and the most
honourable refuge. At a later date, when the influence of Æthelstan on
the affairs of Gaul was specially great, Alan and his companions were
allowed to return.[264] He received a large part of Britanny as a vassal
of the Norman Duke; he appears to have remained steady in his
allegiance, and he is henceforth constantly mentioned among the chief
peers of the Norman [Sidenote: His struggles with the Northmen of the
Loire.] state.[265] But he could win back the actual possession of his
dominions only by hard fighting against the independent Normans of the
Loire. These pirates, even after Rudolf’s victory at Limoges, held many
points of the country, and they were hardly more inclined to submit to
the Norman Duke at Rouen than to the Breton Count at Vannes.[266] Alan
restored the ruined city of Nantes, and did much for his recovered
dominions in various ways. The relations between Normandy and Britanny
were now definitely settled, as far as anything could ever be said to be
settled in that age. The boundary between the dominions of the vassal
and his lord was fixed by the Norman acquisition [Sidenote: The Côtentin
becomes thoroughly Norman.] of the Côtentin and Avranchin. These lands,
the last won part of Normandy, form one of the districts which became
most thoroughly Norman. They stood open for Norman colonization; and we
shall presently see that colonization was allowed, perhaps invited, not
only from the settled parts of Normandy, but even directly from the
heathen North itself.
Along with the peninsula of Coutances the Norman Dukes obtained a
possession which was afterwards to form a bond of connexion of a
singular kind between Normandy and England.[267] In comparing the extent
of the West-Frankish kingdom at this age with that of modern France in
our own day,[268] while mentioning many [Sidenote: Normandy acquires the
Channel Islands.] points in which the French frontier has advanced, I
had to mention three points where it has fallen back. The extent of the
land whose princes acknowledged a nominal superior in the West-Frankish
King took in Flanders, Barcelona, and the Channel Islands. Those
islands, a natural appendage to the Constantine peninsula, now became
Norman. When continental Normandy was lost by John, the insular part of
the duchy was still retained, and it has ever since remained a
possession of the English crown. As long as the English Kings kept the
title either of Duke of Normandy or of King of France, here was a
portion of the duchy or of the kingdom whose actual possession might be
said to make good their claim to the rest. This insular Normandy remains
to this day French in speech, but deeply attached, and with good reason,
to the [Sidenote: Peculiar relation of the islands to England.] English
connexion. The islands form distinct commonwealths, dependent on the
British crown, but not incorporated with the United Kingdom. This
condition of a dependency is perhaps that which best suits a community
which has a distinct existence of its own, but which could not possibly
maintain its independence as a distinct and sovereign state. Keeping
their ancient constitutions, and enjoying the protection of the power of
England, the Norman islands unite the safety of a great kingdom with the
local independence of a small commonwealth. How much they would lose by
becoming a French department I need not stop to point out. But they
would also lose, not nearly so much, but still not a little, by becoming
an English county. The right of sending one or two members to the
British Parliament, where, among so many greater interests, their voice
could hardly be heard, would be a poor exchange for their present
legislative independence. Parliament can indeed, on any emergency which
may call for its interference, legislate for the Norman islands. But it
must legislate specially for them, after special consideration of the
circumstances of the case. The islands cannot find themselves
unexpectedly bound by some piece of general legislation, passed without
their knowledge and possibly contrary to their interests. Thus the
dependent condition of the islands secures a greater consideration of
their interests than they could receive if they formed an integral
portion of the kingdom. We occasionally hear of internal abuses in the
Channel Islands which are held to need the intervention of Parliament,
but we never hear of external grievances laid to the charge of
Parliament itself. The Norman islands seem to be far [Sidenote:
Comparison with Orkney.] more contented as dependencies than those
Norwegian islands which, having been formed into a Scottish county, have
become an integral part of the United Kingdom. The ancient earldom of
Orkney, represented in Parliament by a single member, has its wrongs, or
at least its grievances; of the wrongs or grievances of Jersey or
Guernsey no one ever heard. And this singular and beneficial relation in
which these interesting little communities stand at this day to the
English crown is connected by a direct chain of cause and effect with
the revolt of the Bretons against Norman supremacy nine hundred and
forty years ago.
William, thus become the conqueror of the Bretons, ruled for the present
as a French prince. As such, his French speech, French connexions, and
French religion, caused him to be hated and dreaded by a large portion
of his subjects. A strong Danish and heathen party still survived within
the older limits of the duchy, and the newly won lands probably
contained some of those independent Danish settlements by which Britanny
in general was so [Sidenote: Revolt of the Danish party in Normandy,
932.] infested. Out of these two elements a Danish and heathen revolt
was organized. Its leader was Riulf, seemingly an independent Danish
chief settled in the Constantine [Sidenote: Legendary details of the
revolt and its suppression.] peninsula. The story, as we have it,[269]
reads like a romance. The rebels rise in arms; they demand one
concession after another; the panic-stricken Duke is ready to yield
everything; he even proposes to resign his duchy and to flee to his
French uncle at Senlis. But he is recalled to a better mind by his
veteran counsellor, the Danish-born Bernard. He then wins an almost
miraculous victory over the rebels, and, for the time at least, crushes
all signs of revolt. These details cannot be accepted as historical; but
one or two points in the story are instructive. The rebels are made to
demand the cession of all the country west of the river Risle. The land
which would have been left to the Duke after such a cession nearly
answers to the original grant to Rolf, excluding the later acquisitions
of [Sidenote: Geographical character of the two parties.] Bayeux and
Coutances. This demand, like everything else in the history, shows how
thoroughly the Norman parties were geographical parties. The Christian
and French-speaking Duke might keep Christian and French-speaking Rouen
and Evreux; but the heathen and Danish land to the west must be
independent of a prince who had cast [Sidenote: Christianity and French
manners supported by a party among the native Danes.] away the creed and
speech of his forefathers. On the other hand, we see that there were men
of Danish birth, old companions of Rolf, men who retained a strong
national feeling, who still distinctly threw in their lot with the
French party. They wished Normandy to remain an united and independent
state; they had not the slightest wish to merge Normandy in France in
any political sense; but they wished the Norman duchy to be a member of
the general French commonwealth, French in religion, language, and
civilization. Such a man was Botho, the old tutor of William and
afterwards tutor to William’s son; such were Oslac, bearing a name
famous in our own Northumbrian history, and Bernard the Dane, who plays
an important part in Norman affairs for many years to [Sidenote:
William’s French and Christian government.] come. Through the overthrow
of the rebellion this party was now dominant, and William reigned as a
Christian prince, as a French prince, aiming at an influence in French
affairs proportioned to the extent of his dominion on Gaulish soil.
Through his whole life he was subject to strong religious impulses, and,
according to a legend which may well contain some groundwork of truth,
he was with difficulty hindered from becoming a monk in his own
foundation of Jumièges.[270] Yet he was by no means lavish in grants to
the Church, and the ecclesiastical foundations, which had suffered so
cruelly during the Scandinavian incursions, still remained weak and
impoverished, and, in many cases, altogether desolate. His general
government is described as just and vigorous, and he seems to have
[Sidenote: He does not wholly break with the Danish element.] deservedly
won the general love of his subjects. And it is certain that, though he
laboured to bring his dominions within the pale of Christian and French
civilization, he did not wholly cast away the national speech and
national feelings of his fathers. It is not unlikely that his policy
towards the Danish element in the duchy varied at different periods of
his reign. He may have found that the transformation of a nation must
needs be a work of time, that too much haste might hinder the object
which he had at heart, that a certain measure of toleration, in
language, in manners, and even in religion, might be needful in order to
bring about a final change in [Sidenote: Towards the end of his reign he
makes further advances to the Danes.] any of those points. In his later
days he may even have gone further than this. After all his efforts to
identify himself with the French, and to act as a French prince among
other French princes, he still found himself scorned and hated, still
looked on as Duke only of the Pirates. Under the influence of such
feelings, he may to some extent have thrown himself into the hands of
the Danish party. According to a story which cannot be received as it
stands, but which probably contains some germs of truth, he admitted a
fresh Danish colony, direct from Denmark, into the newly-acquired
peninsula of Coutances.[271] It is certain that he entrusted his son
Richard to the care, not of any French clerk or Bishop, but to his own
old [Sidenote: Danish education of his son Richard.] tutor, the
Danish-born Botho. The boy was purposely taken to Bayeux, the Teutonic
city which Botho himself, in his pirate days, had helped to harry. He
was sent thither expressly to become familiar with the ancestral tongue,
which was already forgotten at Rouen,[272] but which was still spoken by
the mixed Saxon and Danish population of the Bessin. The boy was to be
brought up in a Danish city, but by a native Dane who had accepted
Christianity and French manners. We may be sure that no religious
apostasy was dreamed of; but William now saw that the sovereign of
Normandy must be neither pure Dane nor pure Frenchman, but, as far as
might be, Dane and Frenchman at once.
[Sidenote: Part played by William Longsword in general history.]
For the purposes of the present sketch, the internal developement of the
Norman duchy, the distinction between its Danish and its French
elements, its relations to its Celtic neighbours and vassals, are points
of more importance than the part played by its second Duke in the
general politics of Gaul. Yet the history of Normandy would be hardly
intelligible without some understanding of the general position of the
duchy as one of the great [Sidenote: Utter confusion of this period.]
fiefs of the West-Frankish crown. The reign of William Longsword forms
the most confused part even of the confused Gaulish history of the tenth
century. It is a period utterly without principles, almost without
definite parties; even the strife between Laon and Paris, between the
Karling and the house of Robert, between the Frank and the Frenchman, is
in a manner lulled as long as Rudolf of Burgundy fills the Western
throne. Every vassal of the Western crown sought little beyond his own
gain and aggrandizement, and all of them freely changed sides as often
as it suited their interest so to do. And William himself added as much
to the confusion as any man, by changing sides perhaps oftener
[Sidenote: Comparison between William and the French Princes.] than
anybody else. And hardly any practical difference was made by the fact
that William seems to have been several degrees less selfish and
unprincipled than his neighbours. He was evidently a creature of
impulse, and his impulses, if they often led him astray, often led him
to righteous and generous actions. Though we cannot set him down, with
his panegyrist, as a saint and a martyr, we can at least see in him far
nobler qualities than any that can be seen in the contemporary princes
of Vermandois, of Flanders, or even of ducal France. Still the practical
difference was slight. William was doubtless morally a better man than
his neighbours; but politically he was as untrustworthy as the worst of
them. His plighted faith went for as little as the plighted faith of a
deliberate perjurer. Impulse led him to one course one day, and impulse
led him to an opposite course the next day. He probably never was
intentionally treacherous, but he did as many of what were in effect
treacherous actions as the basest traitor among them all.
[Sidenote: Condition of Gaul.]
Northern Gaul was at this time divided in very unequal proportions
between the King and several vassal princes more powerful than himself.
Of Southern Gaul [Sidenote: Practical independence of Aquitaine.] it is
hardly needful to speak; of Aquitaine we hear just enough to show that
the lands north and south of the Loire were aware of each other’s
existence, and that a nominal connexion was held to exist between them.
The Aquitanian princes now and then stooped to pay a nominal homage to
the King of the West-Franks; otherwise the South moved in a world of its
own, a world which was very slightly touched by the revolutions of Laon,
Rouen, or Paris. It must always be remembered that the royal city was
Laon, a city close upon the Lotharingian frontier, in a district where
the Teutonic speech still lingered.[273] [Sidenote: The King’s domain.]
The royal domain took in only Laon, Compiègne, and a small territory
about those towns. Through the election of Rudolf, ducal Burgundy was
brought into a temporary connexion with the crown, but that connexion
lasted no longer than the reign of Rudolf himself. To [Sidenote:
Lotharingia; explanation of its continual revolutions.] the east and
north-east of the royal dominions lay Lotharingia, the border land, ever
fluctuating in its allegiance between the Eastern and Western kingdoms.
But all its fluctuations follow one unvarying principle, namely that its
inhabitants preferred the rule of a Karling to that of any one else, but
that, when no Karling was to be had, they preferred the rule of a
[Sidenote: Germany.] German to that of a Frenchman. Beyond Lotharingia
lay the Eastern _Francia_, the Teutonic Kingdom, now rapidly rising into
greatness under the vigorous Kings [Sidenote: The Saxon Kings.] of the
Saxon house. Deeming themselves the true successors of Charles, speaking
his tongue and crowned in his royal city, the Saxon Kings already
aspired to reunite the scattered fragments of his Empire. Within the
Western [Sidenote: Arnulf of Flanders.] Kingdom we find three chief
princes, Arnulf of Flanders, Herbert of Vermandois, and Hugh of Paris.
The Flanders of those days, it should be remembered, reached far to the
south of any border which Flanders has had for some centuries past.
Calais, Boulogne, and Arras were all Flemish, and in those days Flemish
still meant Low-Dutch. Ponthieu was a frontier district, with a Count of
its own, whose homage was disputed between Flanders and Normandy. Of the
present sovereign of Flanders it is enough to say that his actions show
him to have been [Sidenote: Herbert of Vermandois.] capable of any
crime. To the south of Flanders lay Vermandois, governed by the
faithless, unprincipled Herbert, himself of Carolingian descent, but the
greatest of all sinners against Carolingian royalty; the gaoler, most
likely the murderer, of Charles the Simple. His one object was to extend
by any means his comparatively narrow territories. More powerful than
any other Western prince, far more powerful than his nominal King, was
the lord of the Western _Francia_, the Duke of the French, [Sidenote:
The Duchy of France.] Hugh the Great of Paris. His dominions took in the
greater part of central Gaul north of the Loire, but, since the
establishment of the Norman duchy, they nowhere [Sidenote: Ducal
Burgundy.] reached to the sea. Ducal Burgundy need hardly be mentioned;
on the death of Rudolf, Duke and King, the duchy was split into several
parts, a large share [Sidenote: Archbishopric of Rheims.] falling to the
lot of Hugh himself. Along with these temporal principalities we might
almost reckon the metropolitan see of Rheims, whose Primate, alone among
Western bishops, made some faint approach to the position of the
princely prelates of Germany. This great and wealthy church constantly
formed an apple of discord among the temporal powers which surrounded
it. The rival princes were always striving, sometimes to thrust their
nominees into the archbishopric, sometimes to appropriate to themselves
the estates of the see. A large share of the history of the times is
taken up with disputes about the succession to the archbishopric, which
sometimes take the form of ecclesiastical synods, sometimes that of
temporal campaigns and sieges. In the end the temporal importance of the
see was greatly lessened through the loss of several of its most
valuable possessions, [Sidenote: Hugh the Great.] among them the famous
lordship of Coucy. Among all these princes Hugh of France stands out the
foremost, alike from the extent of his dominions and from the
peculiarity of his personal position. The nephew of King Odo, the son of
King Robert, the father of King Hugh, the brother-in-law of King Rudolf,
King Æthelstan, and King Otto himself, the Duke of the French never
would be himself a King. He had no scruple against making [Sidenote: His
Policy.] war on the King, none against robbing him of his dominions,
none against assuming a complete control over his actions and even
keeping him in personal bondage. He had no scruple even against
transferring his allegiance from one King to another, against becoming a
vassal of the Eastern instead of the Western crown. But if he went thus
far, he would go no further; he would always have a King over him, if
only to show how much greater he was than any King; but a King he
himself never would be. Three times at least he might easily have
mounted the throne; but he always declined the glittering bauble that
lay within his grasp. In all this there seems something like a guiding
principle; and even in other respects, faithless and ambitious as Hugh
was, he was distinctly better than some of his fellows. It is some
slight comfort to find that a man who was honoured with the hand of a
sister of Æthelstan was at least not stained with any such frightful
crimes as those which have handed down the names of Arnulf and Herbert
to everlasting shame.[274]
[Sidenote: William’s relation to the Kingdom, (927); his fidelity to
Charles.]
When William succeeded his father, Normandy was at war with France; that
is, it was at war with Herbert of Vermandois and Hugh of Paris, and with
Rudolf of Burgundy, their King of the West-Franks. But Rolf, and after
him William, acknowledged no King but the imprisoned Charles. From him
Rolf had received his lands; to him Rolf had done homage; to him William
repeated that homage on the earliest opportunity, and he never did
homage to Rudolf till the death of Charles left the Burgundian Duke
without a competitor for the [Sidenote: 926–928.] kingly title. Peace
was made and peace was again confirmed, without any acknowledgement of
the usurper’s claim. It was not till three years later, when Charles
[Sidenote: After Charles’s death William does homage to Rudolf. 933.]
was dead, and when Rudolf, by his victory at Limoges, had shown himself
worthy to reign, that William, seemingly of his own act and deed and
without any special circumstances calling for such a course, did homage
to Rudolf,[275] and received from him a grant of the maritime Britanny.
[Sidenote: Rudolf’s grant of Britanny.] This grant most likely carried
with it both a general confirmation of the superiority of Normandy over
Britanny and a special confirmation of the transfer of Avranches and
Coutances to the immediate dominion of the Norman Duke. Meanwhile Hugh
and Herbert were running their usual course; it is hardly the duty of an
English, or even of a Norman, historian to reckon up the number of times
that they transferred their allegiance from Charles to [Sidenote:
Herbert does homage to Henry. 931.] Rudolf and from Rudolf to Charles.
It is of more importance to mark that Herbert, at a moment when Rudolf
and Hugh were both at war with him, did not scruple to transfer his
allegiance to the Eastern King [Sidenote: Rudolf dies. 936.] Henry.[276]
At last Rudolf died, and now a most important change took place. It
might not be very clear what was the use of a King, if his vassals,
several of them more powerful than himself, might rebel against him and
make war on him at pleasure. Still, though all the princes were agreed
in allowing to the King the smallest possible amount of territory and
power, none of the princes was [Sidenote: Diet of election for the new
King.] prepared to do without a King altogether. A Diet of election was
held, of which some most remarkable details are preserved.[277] The
prime mover in the whole matter was Hugh the Great. He might himself
have become a candidate; all central and southern Gaul, his own duchy
[Sidenote: Central and Southern Gaul favours Hugh; the Eastern part
favours Lewis.] and the lands beyond the Loire, sought to confer the
crown upon him. But the Eastern part of the kingdom, where there still
lingered some traces of Teutonic blood and speech, some feelings of
reverence for the blood of the great Emperor, favoured the election of
Lewis the son of Charles, who was now living under the protection of his
[Sidenote: Hugh declines the crown and procures the election of Lewis.]
English uncle. Hugh, according to his invariable policy, declined the
crown for himself. He already enjoyed the reality of kingship, and he
shrank with a superstitious dread from a title which had brought little
gain to his uncle and his brother-in-law and still less to his own
father. It was on the motion of the Duke of the French that the assembly
agreed to elect Lewis as King of the [Sidenote: Embassy to Æthelstan.
936.] West-Franks, and to send an embassy to Æthelstan to ask for the
restoration of his nephew to the throne of his fathers. The embassy
passed over into England, and found the King at York.[278] It was the
year before Brunanburh, when the presence of Æthelstan was doubtless
specially called for in his northern dominions. The ambassadors spoke in
the name of Duke Hugh and of all the chief men of the Gauls, and prayed
for Lewis to be their [Sidenote: Negotiations between Æthelstan and
Hugh.] King. Æthelstan, somewhat doubtful of their good faith,[279]
demanded oaths and proposed a further conference. The King of the
English hastened to the coast of Kent, and the Duke of the French to the
coast of Flanders, not far from Boulogne. Fire signals were exchanged on
each side, the materials being found in the wooden houses which lined
the shores.[280] Let us hope that, whatever Hugh or Arnulf may have
done, Æthelstan at least made good the loss to his subjects. Several
English Bishops and Thegns passed over, having at their head Oda, Bishop
of the Wilsætas or of Ramsbury, afterwards the famous Primate.[281]
Before Æthelstan would trust his nephew across the sea, he demanded
satisfactory oaths from the assembled princes; otherwise he would give
Lewis one of his own kingdoms, where he might reign safely and
prosperously.[282] This was no empty boast; the Emperor of Britain had
kingdoms to bestow, lower indeed in rank, but safer and more powerful,
than the nominal royalty of Laon. The princes of Gaul swore as they were
bidden; but it was agreed that the Duke of the French should be the
chief adviser, or rather the protector and guardian, of the new
King.[283] Lewis crossed the sea; he landed in the realm which was now
his, he sprang on his horse,[284] and rode on amid the cheers of
[Sidenote: Lewis crowned King. 936.] his new subjects. He went to his
royal city of Laon, where he was consecrated King by Artald Archbishop
of Rheims; he then went with his guardian on an expedition into
Burgundy, more to his guardian’s profit than to his own.[285] He then
visited his powerful vassal at Paris; but in the next year, safe on the
rock of Laon, he threw off [Sidenote: He declares his independence of
Hugh. 937.] the yoke; he declared his independence of Duke Hugh, and
sent for his mother Eadgifu, seemingly to take Hugh’s place as his chief
counsellor.[286]
[Sidenote: Character of King Lewis; his vigorous and active reign.]
The reign of Lewis—Lewis from beyond Sea—is of itself enough to confute
the common mistake of believing that the line of Charles the Great ended
in a race of imbecile _fainéants_, like those whom Pippin had set
aside.[287] Lewis may be called ambitious, turbulent, and perfidious,
but no man was ever less of a _fainéant_. His life was in truth one of
preternatural activity. Early adversity, combined with an education at
the hands of glorious Æthelstan, had brought out some very vigorous
qualities in his young nephew. If Lewis was ambitious, turbulent, and
perfidious, he was but paying off Hugh of Paris and William of Rouen in
their own coin. In truth no two positions can well be more unlike one
another than the position of [Sidenote: Contrast between the late
Karlings and the late Merwings.] the later Karlings and that of the
later Merwings. The Duke of the French might now and then put on
something of the guise of a Mayor of the Palace, but Pippin and Hugh had
very different masters to deal with. The nominal ruler of a vast realm,
led about as an occasional pageant and leaving the government of his
dominions to an all-powerful minister, is the exact opposite to a King
whose domains have shrunk up to the territory of a single city, and who
has to spend his life in hard blows to keep that last remnant of his
heritage from the ambition of vassals whose territories are far wider
than his own. Lewis had to strive in turn against France, Normandy, and
Vermandois, and now and then he was able to give each of them nearly as
good as they brought. And, small as was the extent of the King’s actual
domains, there was still an abiding reverence for the royal name, which
breathes in every page of the chroniclers, and which was not without
influence even on the minds of the men who fought against him. Still
Lewis had constantly to fight for the small remnant of dominion which
was left to him. The restless Herbert had to be [Sidenote: 938.] driven
from a fortress built on the very slope of the King’s [Sidenote: 939.]
own rock of Laon.[288] The next year we find both William and Hugh in
arms against the King in a quarrel arising out of the border disputes of
Normandy and Flanders.[289] William was at war with Arnulf, the quarrel
between these two great potentates being, if not caused in the first
[Sidenote: Affairs of Montreuil. 939.] instance, at any rate aggravated
by their differences as to the affairs of a smaller neighbour. This was
Herlwin, Count of Montreuil or Ponthieu, whose dominions lay between
Normandy and Flanders. Properly he seems to have been a vassal of the
Duke of the French,[290] but when his dominions were seized by Arnulf,
he got no help from Hugh, while he got very effective help from William.
[Sidenote: Montreuil taken by Arnulf and recovered by Herlwin.] By the
aid of a Norman force, headed, according to one account, by the Norman
Duke himself, Montreuil was recovered, and Herlwin reinstated.[291] But
greater powers than any of these were soon to come on the stage. One of
them indeed figures in a rather unlooked-for way in the story of
Herlwin. When Montreuil was taken by Arnulf, [Sidenote: Herlwin’s wife
and children sent to Æthelstan.] the wife and children of the
dispossessed Count were sent, of all the people in the world, to King
Æthelstan in England. That they should have taken refuge at his court
would have been only the natural course of things; but it sounds strange
at first that the prisoners should be sent to the King of the English,
if not actually as captives in bonds, yet at least as persons over whom
some degree of watch was to be kept.[292] The explanation is most likely
to be found in the close alliance between Æthelstan and Lewis, possibly
also in the kindred between Æthelstan and Arnulf, who was, like
Æthelstan, a grandson of Ælfred. Just now Arnulf was the friend, and
William [Sidenote: William excommunicated. 939.] the enemy, of Lewis,
and William was actually excommunicated by the Bishops in the King’s
interest for his harryings of the Flemish territory. That a similar fate
fell on Herbert for his aggressions on the lands of the archbishopric of
Rheims is less wonderful.[293] Æthelstan soon afterwards again appears
as the ally of his nephew, even when ties equally strong might have
drawn him towards [Sidenote: Otto the Great, King of the East-Franks.
936.] his nephew’s enemies. King Henry of Germany was now dead, and his
son, the great Otto, the brother-in-law of Æthelstan, had succeeded to
the throne of the Eastern Franks in the same year in which their common
nephew had succeeded to the royalty of the West. After some opposition
at the hands of his own brothers, the future restorer of the Empire had
received the Frankish diadem in the great Emperor’s minster at Aachen.
But the men of border Lotharingia refused to acknowledge another Saxon;
there was now again a Karling who was a crowned King; none but that
Karling could be their lawful sovereign; the Saxon Duke had been chosen
King of Saxony only, because a chief was needed to defend the land
against the Slaves, and because the true Carolingian King was at that
[Sidenote: The Lotharingians transfer their allegiance from Otto to
Lewis. 939.] moment disqualified.[294] The Lotharingians therefore
transferred their allegiance from Otto to Lewis. Their first application
was rejected; a second, made by the temporal princes of the country—the
Bishops clave to Otto—was accepted.[295] A war naturally followed
between Lewis and Otto, in which Lotharingia was ravaged by the German
King. Lewis was however not without allies. The West-Saxon King stepped
in as the champion of his Frankish [Sidenote: The English fleet in the
Channel.] nephew against his Old-Saxon brother-in-law; an English fleet
appeared in the channel; but in an inland war this naval help could be
of little avail, and nothing came of the English intervention beyond the
ravage of some parts of the opposite coast.[296] A series of intrigues
and backslidings now follow which fairly baffle the chronicler. While
Lewis was gaining new subjects to the East, his vassals within his own
kingdom almost unanimously forsook [Sidenote: The Western princes do
homage to Otto.] him. Not only his old enemies Hugh and Herbert, but the
fickle Duke of the Normans, and Arnulf, in whose cause he had himself
been so lately warring, all met Otto and transferred their homage from
Lewis to him.[297] The motive for this course is not very clear. Otto
was indeed a more distant, but he was a far more powerful, over-lord,
one far more likely to exercise effective authority over his [Sidenote:
Activity of Lewis.] vassals. But the indefatigable Lewis found new
friends in Lotharingia; he went into Elsass to a conference with
[Sidenote: Lotharingia won and lost.] Hugh of Provence;[298] he drove
the partisans of Otto out of Lotharingia, and returned to Laon to
chastise a Bishop suspected of treason. These successes were only
momentary; Lotharingia was soon recovered by Otto.[299] But the
conspiracy of the Western princes against their King was no [Sidenote:
William does homage and makes special promises to Lewis. 940.] less
transitory. In the year following the general defection William of
Normandy changed sides; he met Lewis in the neighbourhood of Amiens; he
did homage, and received from the King a fresh grant of his
dominions.[300] And he seems to have made something more than the usual
promises of allegiance. He is said to have pledged himself either to die
in the King’s cause or to restore him to the full exercise of his royal
authority.[301] Yet before the year was out William was again in arms,
helping Hugh [Sidenote: The princes, William among them, besiege Rheims,
and depose Archbishop Artald. 940.] and Herbert in a siege of
Rheims.[302] The metropolitan see was disputed between Hugh, a son of
Herbert, and Artald, a vigorous champion of the King, who had performed
the ceremony of his coronation. Artald was now in possession of the
bishopric, and had been endowed by the King with great temporal
privileges and with the title of Count.[303] War against the Primate was
in every sense war against the King. The city surrendered; Herbert’s
Archbishop was admitted; and the conspirators then went a step further
in rebellion by besieging the King’s [Sidenote: Hugh and Herbert again
do homage to Otto at Attigny. 940.] own city of Laon. Hugh and Herbert
presently took a still more daring step by inviting Otto to Attigny,
within the acknowledged West-Frankish border, and there renewing their
homage to him.[304] With this last transaction William [Sidenote:
William renews his homage to Lewis.] had nothing to do; before long we
find him again the faithful homager of King Lewis, receiving him with
all kingly-state at Rouen, and seemingly bringing with him to their due
allegiance, not only his own Breton vassals, but his brother-in-law
William of Aquitaine.[305]
We are now drawing near to the end of the troubled career of William
Longsword. We here find ourselves involved in such a mass of
contradictory statements that I reserve their special examination for
another place.[306] [Sidenote: William Longsword murdered by Arnulf.
943.] That William was lured by Arnulf of Flanders to a conference on
the island of Picquigny in the Somme, and that he was there murdered by
the contrivance of the Flemish prince, there seems no reason to doubt.
But as to the motives and circumstances which led to the act, whether
Arnulf acted alone or in concert with any of the other Western princes,
whether King Otto himself was in any way the unwitting cause of a crime
at which his noble heart would have revolted, are questions which I
shall [Sidenote: Council of Attigny, held by the two Kings of the Franks
as colleagues.] discuss elsewhere. But I cannot, even here, wholly pass
by the Council of Attigny, a council at which events took place which
one version closely connects with the death of William. Otto was
reconciled to Lewis, who had now become his brother-in-law by a marriage
with his widowed sister Gerberga, and by Otto’s means the Duke of the
French was reconciled to the King. The two Kings then, as colleagues in
the administration of one Frankish realm, held a solemn council, at
which the great vassals of the Western Kingdom attended. The kings sat
side by side; but though the Western King was on his own ground, his
Eastern colleague, the truer successor of Charles, the King crowned at
Aachen and already no doubt looking to be the Emperor crowned at Rome,
took the seat of honour, which, if one tale be true, the Norman alone
was found bold enough to challenge for his own immediate lord.
§ 4. _Reign of Richard the Fearless._ 943–996.
[Sidenote: Richard the Fearless succeeds. 943.]
William Longsword left one son, Richard, surnamed the Fearless, born of
a Breton mother Sprota, who stood, as we have seen, to Duke William in
that doubtful position in which she might, in different mouths, be
called an honourable matron, a concubine, or a harlot.[307] Her son had
been taught both the languages of his country, and he was equally at
home in Romance Rouen and in Scandinavian Bayeux.[308] Whether his birth
were strictly legitimate or not was a matter of very little moment
either in [Sidenote: His doubtful legitimacy little thought of.] Norman
or in Frankish eyes. If a man was of princely birth and showed a spirit
worthy of his forefathers, few cared to pry over minutely into the legal
or canonical condition of his mother. The young Richard had been
already, without any difficulty, acknowledged by the Norman and Breton
chiefs as his father’s future successor in the duchy,[309] [Sidenote: He
is invested with the Duchy by Lewis.] and he now found as little
difficulty in obtaining a formal investiture of the fief from his lord
King Lewis.[310] In England his minority, for he was only about ten
years old, would have been a far greater hindrance to his succession
than his doubtful birth. But even in England, within the same century,
minors reigned when no better qualified member of the kingly house was
forthcoming, and young [Sidenote: Reign of Richard. 943–996.] Richard
was the only male descendant of Rolf. The long reign of Richard,
reaching over more than fifty years, is one of the most important in the
history of Normandy and of France, and it is in his time that we hear of
the first direct collision between Normandy and England. And the early
part of Richard’s reign is perhaps more crowded with picturesque
incidents than any other portion of time [Sidenote: Romantic interest of
his early life.] of equal length. The early life of the orphan child,
his dangers, his captivity, his escape, his bitter enemies and his
faithful friends, the mighty powers which strove for the possession of
his person or for influence over his counsels—the tale has all the
interest of a complicated romance. Many of the details are doubtless due
to the invention of Norman legend-makers; but there is enough in the
soberer French and German writers to show that the main outline of the
story is trustworthy. But for the purpose of the present sketch, I must
set forth the romantic tale of Richard’s childhood only in a greatly
abridged shape, and content myself with pointing out those parts of the
story which are of political importance.[311]
The year in which William Longsword was murdered was an important year
in many ways for the whole of Gaul. It marks in some sort the beginning
of a new [Sidenote: Events of the year 943;] epoch. Besides the death of
William and the important events which followed upon it, this year was
marked by a birth and a death which had no small influence on the
[Sidenote: death of Herbert of Vermandois; birth of Hugh Capet.] course
of affairs. Herbert of Vermandois, the regicide, the tyrant as he is
called, died this year, and died, according to some accounts, in a
mysterious and horrible fashion.[312] His dominions were divided among
his sons, except some portions which passed into the hands of Hugh of
Paris. The royal power thus lost one of its most formidable enemies,
while another enemy yet more formidable was still further strengthened.
And this year, for the first time, Hugh had a son to be the heir of his
greatness. His English wife Eadhild had died childless; but her
successor, Hugh’s third wife, Hadwisa, daughter of King Henry and sister
of King Otto and Queen Gerberga, now bore him a son, Hugh surnamed
Capet, the future King. [Sidenote: Effect of Hugh’s birth on Hugh the
Great’s policy.] One can hardly doubt that the birth of his son had an
effect on Hugh the Great’s policy. He would not be a King himself, but
he would put no hindrance in the way of his son being a King. From this
time onwards the contrast between the two dynasties, between the old and
the new, between the Frank and the Frenchman, between Laon and Paris,
becomes even more sharply marked than before.
[Sidenote: Constant influence of Germany in Western affairs.]
From this time onwards also we must remark another tendency which was
doubtless closely connected with the one just mentioned, and of which we
have already seen the beginning. I mean the continued and constantly
strengthening influence of Germany, the Eastern Kingdom, in the affairs
of the West. The Council of Attigny, with the two Kings of the Franks
sitting and acting as colleagues, was but the first of a long series of
assemblies of the like kind. It is to Otto that all parties in the
Western Kingdom appeal as their natural mediator; the King appeals to
him as his natural protector. If the Eastern King receives no formal
homage as over-lord, still he is clearly looked on both by Lewis and by
Hugh as something more than a mere neighbour and brother. Towards Lewis
Otto appears as the senior colleague in a common office; in the language
of the elder days of the Empire, the Saxon acts as the Augustus, while
the Frank is only the Cæsar.[313] While Otto is absent on distant
expeditions, his vice-gerent in Lotharingia, Duke Conrad[314] or
Archbishop Bruno, is competent to [Sidenote: From 942 [Attigny] to 973
[death of Otto].] act in his name as moderator of the Western realm.
This kind of relation between the two kingdoms lasted during the whole
remainder of the reign of Otto the Great, that is, during the rest of
the reign of Lewis and during the minority and early reign of his son
Lothar. The changed state of things in the days of the two cousins, Otto
the Second and Lothar, was undoubtedly one determining cause of the fall
of the dynasty of Laon. But there was another determining cause of its
fall with which we have more immediately to do. Under Rolf Normandy had
stuck faithfully to the King; under William it had fluctuated backwards
and [Sidenote: Normandy under Richard attached to France.] forwards
between King and Duke. Under Richard, Normandy, becoming every day more
French and more feudal, became, both in its policy and through actual
feudal ties, permanently attached to the Duke and therefore commonly
hostile to the King.
[Sidenote: Events following the death of William. 943.]
Great disturbances in Normandy followed on the unlooked-for death of
William Longsword. A new invasion [Sidenote: New Danish settlement under
Sihtric.] or settlement direct from the North seems to have happened
nearly at the same time as the Duke’s murder; it may even possibly have
happened with the Duke’s consent.[315] At any rate the heathen King
Sihtric now [Sidenote: The Danes joined by the heathen party in
Normandy.] sailed up the Seine with a fleet, and he was at once welcomed
by the Danish and heathen party in the country. Large numbers of the
Normans, under a chief named Thurmod, fell away from Christianity, and
it appears that [Sidenote: Apostasy of young Richard.] the young Duke
himself was persuaded or constrained to join in their heathen
worship.[316] In such a state of things [Sidenote: The Christian party
in Normandy seek French help.] we can neither wonder at nor blame the
Christian party in Normandy if they drew as close as they could to their
Christian neighbours, even at some risk to the independence of the
duchy. To become subjects either of the King of Laon or of the Duke of
Paris was better than to be eaten up by heathen wikings. Nor are we
entitled to be unduly hard on either King or Duke for trying to make the
most of such an opportunity for recovering [Sidenote: Position of Lewis
and Hugh] the ground which they had lost. The Land of the Normans had
been given up to Rolf by the joint act of [Sidenote: towards Normandy.]
its immediate ruler, the father of the present Duke, and of its
over-lord, the father of the present King. The grant had been made on
the express condition that the Normans should become members of a
Christian and Frankish commonwealth. If heathen invasions were to begin
again, and to be powerfully helped by men settled on Gaulish soil, the
Norman duchy was serving an object exactly opposite to that for which it
was founded. In such a case both Duke and King might well feel
themselves justified in getting rid of the nuisance altogether. Feudal
ideas also were fast developing, and King Lewis may have already begun
to entertain some dim notion that wardship over the fief of a minor
vassal was a right [Sidenote: The Christians commend themselves, some to
Hugh, some to Lewis.] which of necessity belonged to the lord. In any
case, neither Hugh nor Lewis was unwilling to extend his dominions, and
at first a large party in the duchy seemed ready to welcome either of
them. The Christian Normans were divided between the rival attractions
of the King and the Duke. The Duke, nearer and more powerful, could give
the most effectual aid at the moment; the King, more distant, would be
less dangerous as a permanent protector, and the kingly title still
commanded a feeling of deep, if vague and unreasoning, veneration. Some
of the Norman chiefs therefore commended themselves to King Lewis and
others to Duke Hugh. This choice of different protectors seems to mark a
difference of feeling among the Normans themselves;[317] but the
relations of King and Duke were just now unusually friendly, and no
immediate dissension seems to have arisen between them on this account.
It was in this same year, though later than these Norman transactions,
that Hugh not only acted as godfather to a daughter of the King, but was
confirmed by his new spiritual brother in the possession of the duchies
of France [Sidenote: Lewis and Hugh both enter Normandy.] and
Burgundy.[318] Hugh entered Normandy; he fought several battles with the
heathens and apostates, and was willingly received at Evreux, where the
citizens were of [Sidenote: Lewis defeats the heathens and occupies
Rouen.] the Christian party.[319] Meanwhile the King marched to Rouen,
he gathered what forces he could, seemingly both from among his own
subjects and from among the Christian Normans; he fought a battle, he
utterly defeated the heathens, he killed Thurmod with his own hand, he
recovered the young Duke, and left Herlwin of Montreuil as his
representative at Rouen.[320] On a later visit to Rouen, he received the
cession of Evreux from Hugh.[321] Herlwin now waged war against Arnulf
with some success, for he slew Balzo, the actual murderer of William,
and sent his hands as a trophy to the Norman capital.[322] But in the
course of the year Hugh contrived to reconcile Arnulf to the King,[323]
and the King reconciled Arnulf and Herlwin.
Such is the account given by the French writers; the Normans fill up the
story with many further details.[324] [Sidenote: Norman version.] They
leave out—thereby throwing the greatest doubt upon the trustworthiness
of their own story—all about the homage of Richard and the other
Normans, all about Sihtric and Thurmod and the deliverance of Normandy
by Lewis himself. Lewis, according to them, came of his own accord to
Rouen after the death of William, and was received with joy, as he was
supposed to have come in order to plan an expedition against the common
enemy Arnulf.[325] Still from this point it is just possible to patch
the two narratives together, though I confess that I receive every
detail which comes clothed in the rhetoric of Dudo with very great
suspicion. Lewis then, according to this account, remains at Rouen, and
a suspicion gets afloat that he is keeping the young Duke a prisoner,
and that he means to seize on Normandy for himself. A popular
insurrection follows, which is only quelled by the King producing
Richard in public and solemnly investing him [Sidenote: Richard’s
detention at Laon.] with the duchy.[326] After this, strange to say, the
Norman regents, Bernard the Dane, Oslac, and Rudolf surnamed Torta, are
won over by the craft of Lewis to allow him to take Richard to Laon and
bring him up with his own children. The King is then persuaded by the
bribes of Arnulf to treat Richard as a prisoner, and even to threaten
[Sidenote: Richard’s escape.] him with a cruel mutilation.[327] By a
clever stratagem of his faithful guardian Osmund, the same by which
Lewis himself had been rescued in his childhood from Herbert of
Vermandois,[328] Richard is saved from captivity, and carried to the
safe-keeping of his great-uncle, Bernard of Senlis. A mass of perfidious
and unintelligible diplomacy now follows in the Norman accounts, of
which, if it ever happened at all, we get only the results in the French
version. The French writers know nothing of the captivity of [Sidenote:
Norman invasion of Britanny. 944.] young Richard, and they connect the
invasion of Normandy which undoubtedly took place in the next year with
certain transactions in Britanny. The Breton princes, Berengar and Alan,
were at variance between themselves, a state of things which gave
opportunity for a desolating invasion of the Normans, seemingly the
heathen or apostate [Sidenote: Lewis invades Normandy in concert with
Hugh. 944.] Normans.[329] Lewis now invaded Normandy in concert with
Hugh. The Duke had already made peace with the Normans,[330] but he was
seduced by the offer of all Normandy beyond the Seine,[331] or at any
rate of the district of Bayeux.[332] Lewis accordingly, with Arnulf and
Herlwin, and several Bishops of France and Burgundy, entered Normandy
and occupied Rouen. We again find a division of parties in the country,
some receiving the King and others withstanding him.[333] Hugh meanwhile
occupied Bayeux, but Lewis required his confederate to surrender the
city to him. The Duke obeyed, but he at once began again to plot against
[Sidenote: Dissension between Lewis and Hugh.] his sovereign.[334] He
now stirred up several smaller enemies against Lewis, such as Bernard of
Senlis, Theobald, Count of Tours, Blois, and Chartres—of whom we shall
hear again—the Vermandois princes, and Hugh, his own Archbishop
[Sidenote: War at Rheims and elsewhere. 945.] of Rheims. Lewis meanwhile
felt himself so safe in Normandy that he employed Norman troops against
these various enemies;[335] and when he had made a truce with Hugh and
had raised the siege of Rheims, he returned to Rouen, almost as if he
intended to make that city his capital and his permanent residence.[336]
[Sidenote: Lewis at Rouen.]
Lewis had first appeared in Normandy as a deliverer. But according to
the Norman writers, he now changed into a conqueror, and began to dream
of exercising the extremest rights of conquest. The lands and the
[Sidenote: His growing unpopularity and probable designs on Normandy.]
women of Normandy were to be distributed among his followers; above all,
the estates of the aged Bernard and his beautiful young wife were to be
given to an impudent knight who asked for them.[337] It is worth
noticing that, both in this case and in the former one, the evil deeds
attributed to Lewis are all in intention; in the earlier tale he was
going to make Richard a prisoner, he was going to mutilate him; so he is
now going to give Bernard’s wife to his follower; but it does not appear
that he actually did any one of these things. Still we can well believe
that the Normans were tired of Lewis’s prolonged sojourn at Rouen.
Foreign dominion in any shape would soon become hateful to the Norman
nation, and all creeds and parties would gladly unite in an effort to
get rid of it. That Lewis fully intended to keep Normandy can hardly be
doubted. That great duchy, with its seven bishoprics, its flourishing
capital, its fields and towns and harbours all springing into new life
after their recovery from Scandinavian havoc, must indeed have been a
tempting prize to the King of Laon and Compiègne. If he could not hold
both Rouen and Laon, he might be well pleased to make the exchange, and
to transfer the seat of his kingship to the banks of the Seine. How far
any part of the Norman people was really prepared for such a transfer,
how far Lewis was deceived by the false representations of men who only
pretended to wish for it, it is impossible to determine. But we can well
believe that all Normandy was soon united in hostility to the foreign
King. And either by invitation or by accident, a most powerful and
faithful ally was ready at hand to help the Normans in [Sidenote: Harold
King of the Danes, [935–985.]] their struggle for independence. Denmark,
like Sweden and Norway, had, in this age, out of an union of small
principalities, become a single powerful kingdom. Gorm [Sidenote: son of
Gorm, [840–935?]] the Old, the founder of the Danish monarchy, had died
after a reign said to have been of extraordinary length,[338] and had
passed on his dominion to his son Harold, surnamed _Blaatand_,
Blue-tooth or Black-tooth. Harold was [Sidenote: 974.] still a heathen;
in later times he became a compulsory convert to Christianity; but when
he had once embraced [Sidenote: 985.] the faith, he clave stedfastly to
it, and lost his crown and life in defence of his new creed.[339] And if
we can at all trust the account of Harold’s conduct in Norman affairs,
as given by the Norman writers, it is easy to see that, in his case at
least, the seed of the Gospel was sown in the [Sidenote: Harold’s
disinterested conduct in Normandy. 945.] fruitful field of an honest and
good heart.[340] The heathen wiking, utterly unlike most of his tribe,
set an example of straightforward, honest, and unselfish dealing, which
shines all the brighter from its contrast with the endless aggressions
and backslidings of the selfish and faithless princes of Gaul. Whatever
brought Harold into Normandy, he acted there as a disinterested friend
of the [Sidenote: He occupies the Côtentin,] Norman Duke and his
subjects. He first appeared in the Côtentin, which was most probably
already occupied by recent settlers from the North,[341] and he made his
head-quarters [Sidenote: and Bayeux.] at Cherbourg—the borough of
Cæsar.[342] He was next received at Bayeux,[343] and now all Normandy
rose in the cause of the deliverer. That Harold defeated Lewis in
[Sidenote: Battle by the Dive.] a battle on the banks of the Dive is
allowed on both sides; that the battle was preceded by a conference is
allowed on both sides. But the French writers represent the battle as a
treacherous attack made by the Danes on a prince who had come in all
confidence to a peaceful meeting.[344] The Normans, on the other hand,
say that the fight was brought about by the imprudence or insolence of
Herlwin of Montreuil.[345] He who had caused, however innocently, the
death of William, he who had ruled in Rouen as the deputy of Lewis, now
appeared prominently among the royal troops, and stirred up the wrath of
Danes and Normans by his presence. This certainly seems a very lame
story, and we may well believe that Harold, however faithful to his
allies, might see no crime in practising a little of the usual Danish
treachery towards an enemy. But the result of the battle is certain; the
armies met, on or near ground to be afterwards made immortal by one of
the chiefest exploits of the great William;[346] and, as a [Sidenote:
Lewis defeated and taken prisoner.] fitting forerunner of the day of
Varaville, the King’s army was defeated and Lewis taken prisoner.[347]
The Normans add that Harold and Lewis met, man to man and King to King,
and that the Dane led away the Frank as the prize of his own personal
prowess. Lewis however escaped; he was accompanied, perhaps betrayed, by
a Norman in whom he trusted, and, on reaching Rouen, he was imprisoned
by [Sidenote: Harold settles the affairs of the Duchy and returns to
Denmark.] other Normans in whom he trusted also. The Danish King, if we
can trust a tale of such unparalleled generosity, had now done his work.
He passed through the land, confirming the authority of the young Duke,
and [Sidenote: The renewal of “Rolf’s law.”] restoring the laws of
Rolf.[348] This last phrase is one which meets us constantly in our own
history. After the Norman Conquest, the demand for the laws of King
Eadward is familiar to every one, and in earlier times we read of
demands for the laws of Eadgar or of Cnut, or whoever was the last King
who was looked back to with any love.[349] What is really meant in all
such cases is not so much any actual enactments as good administration
instead of bad, often native administration instead of foreign. The
renewal of Rolf’s law meant the wiping out of all traces of the dominion
of the King of Laon. Harold then sailed away to his own islands; twenty
years afterwards, unless the one story is a repetition of the other, he
was equally able and willing to come again on the same errand.[350]
[Sidenote: Lewis kept in prison by Hugh. 945–6.]
King Lewis was thus a prisoner, as his father had been before him. After
a certain amount of the usual treacherous diplomacy,[351] he was
transferred from the hands of the Normans to those of their ally the
Duke of the French. His wrongs called forth the wrath of his kinsmen in
other lands. Queen Gerberga sought help alike from her own Old-Saxon
brother and from her husband’s West-Saxon uncle. Æthelstan the Glorious
was no more, but he had handed on his sceptre to a [Sidenote:
Intervention of Eadmund. 946.] worthy successor in Eadmund the
Magnificent. An English embassy haughtily demanded the release of the
King, and received from Hugh as haughty a refusal. The Duke of the
French would do nothing for fear of the threats of the English.[352] How
Eadmund would have followed up this beginning it is hard to say; but the
next year saw him cut off by the assassin’s dagger, and his successor
Eadred had enough to do in the renewed and final struggle [Sidenote:
Intervention of Otto. 945.] with the Northumbrian Danes. The application
to Otto was more effectual. The King of the East-Franks at once
determined to invade the Western Kingdom the next year.[353] He refused
a personal conference with Hugh, and the conference which he allowed him
to have with Conrad of Lotharingia was fruitless.[354] At last, when the
German army was actually assembling, Hugh found it necessary to
[Sidenote: Lewis obtains his liberty in exchange for the] come to terms
with his royal prisoner.[355] Hugh’s terms were simple—freedom in
exchange for Laon. After a while, Lewis brought himself to surrender his
single [Sidenote: cession of Laon. 946] stronghold, his own royal city,
which was still held for him by his faithful and stout-hearted Queen.
The Duke of the French took possession of the city of the rock, and the
King of the West-Franks was reduced to be little more than King of
Compiègne. Most likely he hoped, through German and English help, soon
to be again King, not only of Laon, but of Paris and Rouen as well. And
as far as forms and words and outward homage went, his authority was
presently restored over the whole kingdom. [Sidenote: Lewis’s kingship
renewed.] Duke Hugh did not scruple to deprive his sovereign of liberty
and dominion; but he would never be a King [Sidenote: Hugh and the other
Princes do homage. 946.] himself, and he would always have a King over
him. The royal dignity—held, it would seem, to have fallen into abeyance
through the King’s imprisonment—was solemnly renewed, and Hugh the Great
once more became the faithful liegeman and homager of the King whom he
had just before held in bonds.[356] The other princes of the kingdom
followed his example; but, if the Norman writers are to [Sidenote: The
absolute independence of Normandy asserted by the Norman writers.] be
believed, there was one marked exception. On the banks of the Epte,
where the founder of the Norman state had first done homage, the Duke of
the Normans was formally set free from all superiority on the part of
the Frankish King.[357] Richard still bore no higher title than that of
Duke; but he was a King, as far as complete authority within his own
land, and absolute independence of all authority beyond its borders,
could make him a King. The prince who was thus acknowledged as perfectly
independent was presently persuaded, like other [Sidenote: Richard’s
Commendation to Hugh.] allodial owners, to seek a lord, and Richard Duke
of the Normans forthwith commended himself and his dominions to his
neighbour and benefactor Hugh Duke of the French.[358] Now the absolute
independence of Normandy, the renunciation of all homage and all
superiority on the part of the crown, is an assertion for which we need
some better authority than the declamation of Dudo. In his pages indeed
Richard appears as a King, holding the Norman monarchy in fee of no
earthly power. But in those pages he also appears as one who far more
than forestalled the work of his descendant, as one who held all Gaul
and all Britain, with seemingly Germany and Denmark to boot, as
dependencies of his Norman monarchy.[359] By the accuracy of the one
description we may perhaps judge of the accuracy of the other.
[Sidenote: Practical character of the commendation of Richard to Hugh.]
But the commendation of Normandy to the Duchy of France rests on much
better authority. Norman vanity was less inclined to dwell on it than on
the alleged independence of Normandy on the kingdom, but it is
incomparably the better ascertained fact of the two. In the days of
Richard we get our first glimpses of documentary evidence for Norman
history in the form of charters, and in an extant charter Richard
distinctly speaks of the Duke of the French as his lord.[360] And it is
clear that homage to the Duke carried with it a much more practical
relation than homage to the King. Throughout this whole period we find
Normandy constantly acting as a subsidiary ally of France. Hugh is
followed in his campaigns by Norman troops, seemingly as a matter of
course.[361]
[Sidenote: Double alliance, between Normandy and France and between the
Eastern and Western Kings.]
A double alliance was thus formed, between Normandy and France on the
one hand, between the Eastern and Western Kings on the other. And the
alliance of Normandy and France sealed the fate of the Carolingian
kingship. That kingship lasted forty years longer, but its doom was
sealed when Richard commended himself to Hugh. It did not fall when its
fortunes seemed lowest. At that moment it had still a powerful protector
in the Eastern King. Nor did its utter extinction suit the peculiar
policy of the powerful vassal, who, as far as internal politics were
concerned, held its destiny in his hands. But even the German
protectorate could hardly have much longer sustained the German throne
of Laon against the growing power of the new French nationality. When
that protectorate was forfeited, as we shall soon see it, there was no
longer any hope for the last traces of [Sidenote: The alliance between
Normandy and France determines the fall of the Carolingian dynasty.
945–987.] Teutonic sway in the West. Again, had Normandy remained
isolated and Teutonic, things might have taken a different course. Had
Rouen been hostile or even doubtful, Paris might not have triumphed over
Laon. Charles the Simple had been able to raise up a powerful Norman
division against the rival King, which staved off his fate for a while.
So, had Richard been other than Hugh Capet’s faithful vassal and loving
brother, a similar Norman diversion might, for a while at least, have
preserved the crown to the house of Charles. But Normandy was now the
firm ally of France, and that alliance of Rouen and Paris fixed the
extinction, slow, it might be, but sure, of the royalty of Laon. It was
a question of time. All depended on the policy of the successive Dukes
of the French. And we shall presently have to study the policy of Hugh
Capet, widely different from that of his father, but quite as remarkable
in its own way.
This double alliance was not slow in bearing fruit. The [Sidenote: War
of the two Kings against the two Dukes. 946.] threats of Otto, unlike
the threats of Eadmund, were carried into action. Lewis had indeed been
set free; but he was set free on terms which his royal colleague and
brother must have felt to be dishonouring to himself as well as to his
ally. A war shortly followed, in which the two Kings appear as the
common enemies of the two Dukes. But it is a war about which it is very
difficult [Sidenote: Comparison of the French, German, and Norman
accounts.] to get at the exact truth. In the part which relates to
Normandy the French writers are, evidently of set purpose, meagre beyond
expression. Our chief German authority, though he enlarges on one or two
trifling points,[362] is, on the point which most immediately concerns
us, hardly fuller than his Western fellows. The Norman legend, on the
other hand, overwhelms us with details, half of which we instinctively
suspect to be mythical. There is no doubt that the issue of the campaign
in a military point of view was inglorious, to say the least, for the
two Kings of the Franks. This was quite reason enough for the French and
German writers to slur over the subject, and for the Normans to pick it
out as a [Sidenote: Objects of Lewis and Otto; supposed intrigues of
Arnulf.] subject for special rhetoric and exaggeration. In their story
Arnulf, as usual, appears as the villain of the piece. He stirs up the
whole strife; his scheme is for Lewis to yield to Otto all claims on
Lotharingia, and to receive Normandy instead, as soon as the duchy
should be conquered for him by the arms of the German King.[363] But the
French and German writers know nothing of these machinations of Arnulf,
and in their eyes, or at least in their writings, Normandy never assumes
any such primary importance. The interference of Otto, in connexion with
what went before and what followed, is intelligible enough, and it
hardly needs the introduction of Arnulf to explain it. Yet it is likely
enough that the scheme said to have been suggested by the wily Fleming
really did form an element in the reckonings of the two Kings. It was
most important to settle the endless Lotharingian question, which had
formed a subject of discord between [Sidenote: 944.] them even in the
very year of Lewis’s occupation of [Sidenote: Probable designs of Lewis
on Normandy.] Rouen.[364] And after Lewis’s defeat and imprisonment, we
may be sure that the conquest or humiliation of Normandy [Sidenote:
March of Otto; meeting of the three Kings, Otto, Lewis, and Conrad.] was
an object very dear to his heart. At all events, with whatever objects,
the King of the East-Franks[365] entered the Western Kingdom, and was
joyfully welcomed by its King, who joined him with all his forces. A
third King joined the muster, Conrad of Burgundy,[366] who followed in
the wake of Otto. Of the four Carolingian kingdoms three were thus
united against the upstart powers of Paris and Rouen. And among them the
German King, not yet Emperor in formal rank, takes a distinct and
recognized Imperial precedence. Burgundy and the Western Kingdom do not
indeed seem to owe him any formal homage; but their sovereigns were far
more truly his vassals, in any practical sense of the word, than the
Dukes against whom they were marching were vassals of the King of
[Sidenote: The three Kings fail before Laon, but] Compiègne. The three
Kings began by an attempt to extend the despoiled monarch’s possessions
by the recovery of his lost fortress of Laon.[367] This attempt failed;
but they [Sidenote: take Rheims. 946.] took Rheims, whence they drove
out Hugh, the Duke’s Archbishop, and brought back Artald, the faithful
servant [Sidenote: They ravage France and Normandy, but fail to take
either Paris or Rouen.] of King Lewis.[368] They then entered France;
they ravaged the whole land, but they shrank from or failed in an attack
on Paris.[369] They then harried Normandy, but they failed in an attempt
on Rouen.[370] Thus much is certain; the confederate Kings were driven
back from the Norman capital. The picturesque, but probably to a great
extent legendary, details form a brilliant picture, for which I must
refer to the Norman writers and their English interpreter.[371]
[Sidenote: Effects of the German intervention.]
The discomfiture of three Kings, the repulse of the great Otto himself,
could not fail to become a favourite subject of Norman boasting. But it
is by no means clear that the German intervention was altogether
fruitless. We have seen the fortunes of Lewis at their [Sidenote:
Lewis’s fortunes begin to improve. 947.] lowest ebb. We now see them
very distinctly begin to rise, while those of Hugh the Great suffer a
temporary depression. The Duke failed in several expeditions, while the
King went on gaining both in territorial dominion [Sidenote: Friendship
of Lewis and Otto.] and in the opinion of men.[372] The close connexion
between the two Frankish Kings continued, and both Lewis and his Queen
shared the hospitality of their [Sidenote: 947, 949.] brother, and took
a part in the paschal splendours of [Sidenote: Series of Synods.]
Aachen.[373] Not the least striking feature of this period is the series
of synods, synods of bishops from both the Frankish kingdoms, but to
which the Eastern realm [Sidenote: Meeting by the Cher. 947.] naturally
contributed by far the greater share. The first of the series, held on
the banks of the Cher, was held along with a secular conference, and
with armies at no [Sidenote: Synods of Verdun, (947); Mouzon, and
Engelheim, (948).] great distance.[374] The later meetings, at
Verdun,[375] at Mouzon,[376] and the last and most solemn, held at
Engelheim[377] under the presidency of a papal legate, seem to have been
essentially ecclesiastical assemblies. But the Kings were [Sidenote:
Action of the Kings.] present, acting as royal colleagues, the Eastern
King keeping his distinct superiority.[378] Otto may well have dreamed
of himself as a new Constantine presiding in a new [Sidenote:
Controversy about the see of Rheims; its political importance.] Nicene
Council. The strictly ecclesiastical object of these assemblies was to
decide the controversy between the rival Archbishops who disputed, and
alternately occupied, the metropolitan see of Rheims. But such a point
could not be dealt with as a mere matter of canon law. The real question
was not whether Hugh or Artald was the more regularly elected Primate,
but whether the great city of Rheims should be held by a prince devoted
to the Duke or by a prince devoted to the King. The affairs of the
Western Kingdom were fully discussed in an assembly of prelates, most of
whom were subjects of the Eastern King. Lewis set forth the whole story
of his wrongs before his brother King and the bishops, and prayed both
of them to use their several arms, temporal and spiritual, against
[Sidenote: Final Synod of Trier; Hugh the Great excommunicated. 948.]
his enemy. The result was, not only that Rheims was restored to the
royalist Archbishop, but that, after due notice, the Duke of the French
was solemnly excommunicated in a final synod at Trier,[379] which, oddly
enough, consisted mainly of Western bishops. Hugh however cared little
for the excommunication; the war continued, and various places were
attacked with varying success on both sides. The Normans appeared as the
allies of Hugh;[380] Otto, engaged in distant affairs, entrusted the
support of [Sidenote: Laon recovered by Lewis. 949.] Lewis to Conrad of
Lotharingia.[381] By a stratagem of Rudolf, the father of the historian,
Laon was recovered to the King, except the tower, which still held out
for [Sidenote: Hugh excommunicated by Pope Agapetus. 949.] Hugh.[382] At
last an excommunication pronounced by Pope Agapetus in person[383] seems
to have made some impression on the stubborn mind of the Duke. Through
the mediation [Sidenote: Hugh does homage again. 950.] of Otto, peace
was made once more; Hugh again did homage in the fullest terms,[384] and
restored to the King the tower of Laon, which he still held. After this,
though smaller wars and bickerings still went on in Lotharingia,
[Sidenote: His last revolt and submission. 953.] Vermandois, and
elsewhere, there was for four years only one revolt of Hugh, and that
one after which the great Duke found it expedient to beg for peace
through the intercession of Queen Gerberga.[385] During all this time
[Sidenote: Lewis’s progress in Aquitaine and in Burgundy. 951.] the
power of Lewis was steadily growing. Whether by force or persuasion, he
gained over to his side the princes of Aquitaine, who no doubt welcomed
the King as a convenient rival to their nearer neighbour the Duke.[386]
Lewis even passed the boundaries of his own kingdom; he visited
Besançon, and received the homage of at least one prince of the royal
Burgundy, Charles-Constantine of Vienne.[387] All things seemed
prospering for the Carolingian King, [Sidenote: His death. 954.] when
his strange and unexpected death cut short the hopes of his house.[388]
After all his long and chequered career, he was only thirty-three years
of age.
[Sidenote: Reign of Lothar. 954–986.]
The long reign of Lothar, the son and successor of Lewis, answers to
only a part of the much longer reign of [Sidenote: The old generation of
princes dies off.] Richard the Fearless. In the course of a few years
most of the principalities of Gaul changed masters. Long before the
reign of Lothar was over, almost before he had personally entered on his
government, Richard, so lately a child, the youngest of princes, became
the eldest ruler within his own world. King Lewis was dead already;
[Sidenote: Hugh the Great. 956.] [Sidenote: Arnulf born 873, died 965.]
Hugh the Great died two years later; Arnulf of Flanders, at an almost
incredible old age, died nine years later still.[389] [Sidenote: Otto
the Great. 973.] Otto, King and Emperor, outlived all these princes, but
[Sidenote: Otto the Second. 983.] Richard outlived both him and his son.
Richard succeeded to his duchy in the time of Eadmund of England; he
outlived Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig, and Eadgar, and lived far on into the
reign of Æthelred. In France he beheld and furthered the extinction of
the Carolingian dynasty, and he died in the same year as the first King
of [Sidenote: 996.] the permanent Parisian line. But this long period
is, if we contrast it with that which went before it, comparatively
barren of events bearing on the history of the Norman duchy. Richard
wrought great changes within his own dominions, and he had many enemies
to contend against without; still the greater part of his reign was no
longer one incessant struggle, like the reign of his [Sidenote:
954–962.] father and his own early days. For some years wars and
disputes went on almost as vigorously as before; but for [Sidenote:
Comparative quiet of the later years of Richard. 962–996.] many years
before his death Richard seems to have enjoyed a time of comparative
peace, which he devoted to the consolidation of his power within his own
states, and in a great degree to the erection and enrichment of
ecclesiastical foundations.
Young Lothar was chosen King without opposition by the princes of
France, Aquitaine, and ducal Burgundy. Duke Hugh espoused his cause; so
did Archbishop Bruno, who now ruled Lotharingia in the name of his
brother King Otto.[390] But Hugh soon contrived to employ the boy whom
he recognized as his sovereign as the tool of [Sidenote: Hugh embroils
Lothar with the Aquitanian princes, but is defeated before Poitiers.
955.] his own crafty policy. As has been already said, the princes of
Southern Gaul were the natural allies of the King against the Duke who
was so dangerous a neighbour to both. The most powerful, at least the
most prominent, among these princes, William of Poitiers, the
brother-in-law of William of Normandy,[391] seems to have been on the
whole a faithful vassal of Lewis,[392] and he had certainly given no
recent cause of offence. But Hugh procured from Lothar a grant of the
duchy of Aquitaine, in addition to those of France and Burgundy,[393]
and it was doubtless in order to enforce this claim that he involved the
King in a war with the Aquitanian princes. But Hugh was utterly baffled
before Poitiers,[394] and, soon after this defeat, his busy and
faithless life, hitherto in general so [Sidenote: Death of Hugh the
Great.] successful, came to an end.[395] The duchy of France, like the
kingdom and the duchy of Normandy, now passed to [Sidenote: Hugh Capet
succeeds under the guardianship of Richard. 956.] a minor. Hugh,
surnamed Capet, the future King, succeeded his father at the age of
thirteen years. On account of his youth, he was left by his father’s
will under the guardianship of the Duke of the Normans.[396] Besides the
close political connexion between the two princes, Richard [Sidenote:
Richard marries Hugh’s sister Emma. 960.] was betrothed to Emma,
daughter of the elder and sister of the younger Hugh, whom some years
later he married.[397] Whether Richard ever did homage to Lothar is not
clear;[398] but Hugh, on his accession to manhood, did homage to
[Sidenote: The sons of Hugh do homage to Lothar, and Richard does homage
to Hugh. 960.] the King, and was invested with the duchy of France and
county of Poitiers, Burgundy being assigned to his younger brother
Otto.[399] The death of Otto however, before many years had passed,
caused Burgundy also to revert to Hugh.[400] Richard also renewed the
commendation which he had made to the elder Hugh, and became the loyal
vassal of his brother-in-law.[401] Arnulf, the old enemy, was now in his
last days;[402] so the functions of devil or villain are now transferred
in the Norman tale to Theobald, Count [Sidenote: Enmity of Theobald of
Chartres towards Richard.] of Tours, Chartres, and Blois. This prince,
who, like Arnulf, reached an unusual age, was the son of an elder
Theobald, who is said to have bought the county of Chartres of the
famous wiking Hasting.[403] The second Theobald had married Liudgardis,
the widow of William Longsword and step-mother of Richard; he was a
vassal of the Duke of the French,[404] and, in that character, he had
acted for Hugh the Great as the gaoler of King Lewis.[405] But he seems
to have by no means adopted his lord’s policy towards the Normans; on
the contrary he appears as the instigator of Gerberga and Lothar to
every sort of hostility against Richard.[406] The French accounts, which
commonly speak of Theobald with a certain tone of contempt,[407] tell us
just enough to show that there is some [Sidenote: Theobald gains Evreux.
962.] ground of truth in all this. Theobald’s chief object seems to have
been the acquisition of Evreux, which at one time he actually gained by
the help of Lothar.[408] Before this, if [Sidenote: Supposed plot of
Lothar, Bruno, and Theobald against Richard. 960.] we may trust the
Norman tale, Theobald and the King had formed with Bruno, Archbishop and
Duke, a treacherous plot to beguile Richard to a conference at Amiens,
and there to put him to death or imprison him.[409] I confess that this
sounds to me very like a Norman perversion of a fact which is much
better authenticated. King Lothar had summoned to Soissons a general
assembly of the chief men of his realm, an event so common in England
and Germany and so rare in the Western Kingdom. Whether the Duke
[Sidenote: Richard attempts to disperse the Assembly at Soissons. 961.]
of the Normans was summoned or not does not appear; but he came with an
armed force and attempted to disperse the assembly, but was beaten off
by the King’s troops.[410] In the next year we find Theobald at war with
Richard [Sidenote: Theobald defeated by Richard. 962.] and defeated by
him. Being also on ill terms with his own lord Duke Hugh, he took
shelter with Gerberga and [Sidenote: Norman version; defeat of Lothar;
second intervention of Harold.] Lothar, and was kindly received by
them.[411] In the Norman version this grows into a long and striking
story.[412] Just as in the tale of Lewis and Harold Blaatand, a
conference between Lothar and Richard developes into a battle in which
Lothar, like his father, is of course utterly defeated. Yet even while
thus victorious, Richard is neither satisfied nor confident. He sends
again to King Harold in Denmark; Harold at once comes at his call, but
he has no opportunity of renewing his old exploits. For his enemies are
thoroughly afraid of him. Count Theobald at once makes peace, and
restores Evreux. King Lothar begs for peace also, and craves that the
terrible Danes may be sent away. But it is not so easy to send them away
as to bring them in. However Duke Richard does his best; he goes in
person and preaches an eloquent sermon to the pagans, exhorting them to
embrace Christianity and to settle quietly in the country. This a
portion of them are induced to do, while the stiffnecked heathens are
persuaded to sail southwards and to ravage infidel Spain instead of
Catholic Gaul. After this a peace [Sidenote: Peace between Lothar and
Richard.] is made between Lothar and Richard,[413] which seems not to
have been again broken.
It is impossible to say exactly how much of truth lurks [Sidenote:
Comparison of the French and Norman accounts.] in all this. The French
writers help us to little more than the fact that there was some measure
of hostility between Lothar and Richard. Richard tries to disperse
Lothar’s solemn parliament; Lothar kindly entertains Richard’s
vanquished enemy. Where there was as much mutual ill-will as this, it is
likely that there was much more. And while we must always allow for the
inventions and exaggerations of the Norman writers, we must also allow
for the evident unwillingness of the French writers to say one word more
about the Normans than they could help. But the whole Norman story is
strange and unlikely, and many of the events sound most temptingly like
repetitions of earlier events. We seem to be reading the tale of Lewis
and Harold over again with but slight changes. Yet the dates come within
the life, perhaps within the memory, of our one original informant on
the Norman side.[414] I leave the more minute examination and final
decision of the matter to those with whom Norman history is a primary
object. It is enough for my purpose that the few certain facts fall in
with the more elaborate picture in the legend, so far as to bring out
the same general view of Richard’s position as the firm ally of France
and as the enemy of the Carolingian crown.
[Sidenote: Later years of Lothar. 962–986.]
During the latter part of the reign of Lothar things took a different
turn. Hugh Capet now began personally to take the lead in affairs, and
his peculiar policy impressed itself on the period. We have already seen
what the [Sidenote: Policy of Hugh Capet different from that of his
father.] policy of the elder Hugh was; he would reduce the King to the
least possible amount of power and of territory, but he would himself
never be more than Duke. Hugh Capet followed a different policy. He was
ready to be a King as soon as he could become one quietly and with a
decent pretext; but he would not hazard the prize by [Sidenote: General
peace between the Kingdom and the Duchy of France.] clutching at it too
soon. The relations between King and Duke during the last twenty years
of Lothar were very unlike the relations which had existed between the
father of Lothar and the father of Hugh. There was very little of open
enmity, and when there was any, the wily Duke contrived that it should
be the King who was outwardly in the wrong. For a long time Duke Hugh
acted as the vassal and friend of King Lothar, and the friendship of
Duke Hugh of course carried with it the friendship of Duke Richard. On
the whole this was a time of peace, a thing hitherto so unusual, between
Duke and King, so much so that the duchy actually underwent a German
invasion in the royal cause. For it was now that the relations between
the two kingdoms of the Franks again became of paramount importance. It
was now that the folly of Lothar forfeited the German protectorate for
himself and his kingdom.
[Sidenote: Change in the relations between the two Frankish kingdoms on
the death of Otto the Great. 973.]
On the death of Otto the Great the relations between the Eastern and the
Western Kingdoms were wholly changed.[415] Otto the uncle had been a
protector; Otto the cousin was a rival. This breach of the old friendly
relations with the Eastern Kingdom was undoubtedly one main cause of the
fall of the Carolingian house in the Western Kingdom. The royalty of
Laon was an outpost of the Teutonic interest in the West, which could
hardly maintain itself without the support of the Teutonic powers to the
east of it. Lothar, with a high spirit, had none of his father’s
prudence. The old disputes about Lotharingia [Sidenote: War between Otto
and Lothar.] began again;[416] war broke out, a war which, on Lothar’s
side, had the approval of Duke Hugh and the other princes, an approval
so cordially expressed as to suggest the suspicion [Sidenote: Lothar’s
raid on Aachen and Otto’s invasion of France. 978.] that it was given
only as a snare.[417] At any rate Lothar went on a wild and sudden raid
against Aachen, which could win for him no lasting gain, but which gave
him the opportunity of occupying the city of his great forefather, and
of turning the eagle on his palace the wrong way.[418] But the insulted
Emperor retaliated by a far more terrible invasion of the Western
Kingdom, in which not only the royal domains, but those of the Duke were
occupied and ravaged, and Paris itself was threatened.[419] This
campaign of Otto the Second, like that of his greater father, [Sidenote:
Peace between Otto and Lothar. 980.] was not exactly rich in military
glory, but it was politically successful. Lothar, without consulting
Hugh, sought for peace,[420] and gave up his claims on Lotharingia.[421]
Hugh, who had hitherto stuck so faithfully by the King, was alarmed at
his sudden and secret reconciliation with the [Sidenote: Alliance
between Otto and Hugh; reconciliation of Lothar and Hugh.] Emperor. He
held a council of his own vassals, and, by their advice, he determined
to win over Otto to himself, which he succeeded in doing, though greatly
against the will of the King.[422] Hugh and Lothar were however at last
[Sidenote: Lewis son of Lothar elected King; his marriage and divorce.
981.] reconciled again.[423] Lewis the son of Lothar was, with the
consent of Hugh and the other princes, associated in the kingdom with
his father.[424] A ludicrous and unsuccessful attempt was then made to
establish him at once as King in Aquitaine by marrying him to a princess
of that country.[425] The notion was in itself a return to a rational
policy with regard to Southern Gaul, if it had only been set about in a
wiser [Sidenote: Death of Otto the Second. 983.] way. On the death of
Otto the Second, Lothar, notwithstanding his former cession of his
rights over Lotharingia, [Sidenote: Lothar’s further attempts on
Lotharingia. 986.] took advantage of the minority of Otto the Third and
the consequent anarchy in Germany again to assert his claims. He was
pressing them with some success by force of arms, when his career was
cut short by an early death.[426]
During all this time the narrative of our French authority tells us
absolutely nothing about Normandy. Yet we may well believe that Richard
took the first place in the assembly of Hugh’s vassals, and that Norman
troops duly accompanied those of France in every expedition. The policy
of Hugh, we may be sure, was always the policy of Richard. [Sidenote:
Richard’s mediation in Flanders. 965.] The only thing about him which
even his garrulous panegyrist has to tell us is that, after the death of
the old Arnulf, when his grandson and successor the younger Arnulf
refused his homage to the King, Richard stepped in as mediator. Lothar
invaded Flanders, but Richard pacified King and Marquess; Arnulf
rendered the homage, and his dominions were restored to him.[427]
[Sidenote: The accession of the Parisian or Capetian dynasty.]
And now we have at last reached that great revolution which extinguished
the last remnants of Carolingian royalty, which decided the long strife
between the German Frank and the half Celtic, half Roman, Frenchman,
which raised Paris to that rank among the cities of Gaul which it has
since never lost, which raised the lords of Paris to that rank which
they lost within our [Sidenote: Reign of Lewis the Fifth. 986–987.] own
day. Lothar was succeeded by his son Lewis, already his colleague in the
kingdom, but his reign was short and troubled. His counsellors were
divided whether he should assert his independence or should put himself
under the protection of Duke Hugh.[428] He chose the safer course, and
in the one act of his reign he had [Sidenote: He besieges Rheims and
dies. 987.] Hugh to his helper. He attacked and besieged Rheims in a
quarrel with the Archbishop Adalbero, whom he charged with having nine
years before aided the Emperor Otto in his invasion.[429] But an
accommodation was hardly brought about between the King and the Primate,
when [Sidenote: Diet of election at Senlis. 987.] Lewis died.[430] The
princes met at Senlis to elect a successor. Our French writers take care
not to mention the name, but we can hardly doubt that Richard of
Normandy, the most faithful and the most powerful vassal of Duke Hugh,
was there ready to support the cause of his lord and brother. The choice
lay between the Duke of the French and the last remaining Karling,
Charles, uncle of the late King and brother of Lothar. This prince was
unlucky and unpopular, and he had given special offence by accepting
Lotharingia, or a part of it, as a fief of the Empire.[431] [Sidenote:
The doctrine of elective monarchy set forth by Archbishop Adalbero.] A
speech from the Primate, setting forth the merits of Hugh and the
lawfulness and necessity of elective monarchy,[432] settled the minds of
the waverers, if any waverers there were. Hugh was chosen King and was
crowned at Noyon. [Sidenote: Hugh elected and crowned. 987.] Thus did an
assertion of the right of election which would not have been out of
place in an English Witenagemót or even in a Polish Diet become the
foundation of a dynasty which was to become, more than any other in
Europe, the [Sidenote: Permanence of his dynasty.] representative of
strict hereditary succession. Adalbero raised to the throne a race in
which, by a fate unparalleled in any other kingly house, the crown
passed on for three hundred and fifty years from father to son, a race
which, down to our own day, has never been without a [Sidenote:
987–1328.] male heir, and in which the right of the male heir has
[Sidenote: 1338–1420.] never been disputed, save once through the
ambition of a [Sidenote: 1589.] foreign prince and once through the
frenzy of religious partizanship. The crown of England and the crown of
Spain have been repeatedly, by revolution or by female succession,
carried away from the direct male heir to distant [Sidenote: Position of
Rheims as the crowning-place.] kinsmen or to utter strangers. But every
King of the French crowned at Rheims has been at once a Frenchman by
birth and the undisputed heir of the founder of the dynasty. Hugh and
his son Robert, neither of them born to royalty, were crowned, the one
at Noyon the other at [Sidenote: 1594.] Orleans. Henry the Fourth, the
one King whose right was disputed, was crowned at Chartres. Rheims alone
kept her proud prerogative as the crowning-place of Kings whose right
was never so much as called in question. Paris, the seat of temporal
dominion, has never become the ecclesiastical home of the nation, the
crowning-place of lawful Kings. None but strangers and usurpers have
ever taken the diadem of France in the capital of France. While Rheims
has beheld the crowning of so many generations [Sidenote: 1431.] of
native Frenchmen, Paris has beheld only the [Sidenote: 1804.] crowning
of a single English King and a single Corsican tyrant.
[Sidenote: Struggle between Hugh and Charles. 987–991.]
Hugh of Paris was thus chosen King, as his great-uncle Odo of Paris had
been chosen King before him. But the hundred years’ rivalry between the
two dynasties was not yet over. As Odo had to struggle with Charles the
Simple, so Hugh had to struggle with his grandson Charles of
Lotharingia. Hugh’s election and coronation did not at once invest him
with any territories beyond the limits of his own duchy. Laon, the royal
city, would not at once consent either to forsake the line of its
ancient princes or calmly to sink into a dependency of Paris. [Sidenote:
Robert crowned. 987.] Hugh, after some difficulty, procured the election
and coronation of his son Robert as his colleague in the kingdom,[433]
and the two Kings, as they are always called, carried on a war of
several years against Charles and his party.[434] The last Karling has
now sunk to the position of a tyrant—a name which once was the
description of Hugh’s father when he was a rebel against the father of
Charles.[435] The struggle was at last ended by Charles being betrayed
to the Kings by the treachery of Adalbero Bishop of Laon. The revolution
was now complete, but its immediate results were [Sidenote: The Parisian
dynasty now becomes permanent.] not very marked. The Duke of the French
became the King of the French, and the same prince reigned at Paris and
at Laon. King Hugh was undoubtedly considerably more powerful than King
Lewis or King Lothar; but in the greater part of Gaul the change from
the Carolingian [Sidenote: Import of the change.] to the Capetian line
was hardly felt. To Hugh’s own subjects it made little practical
difference whether their prince were called Duke or King. Beyond the
Loire, men cared little who might reign either at Paris or at Laon. But
though the immediate change was slight, the election of Hugh was a real
revolution; it was the completion of the change which had been preparing
for a century and a half; it was the true beginning of a new period. The
Duchy of France had successfully played in Gaul the part which in
Britain had been played by Wessex, which in Spain has been played by
Castile, which in Scandinavia has been less thoroughly played by Sweden,
which Prussia before our own eyes has played in Germany. The
Carolingian, the Frankish, kingdom now comes to an end; the French duchy
of Paris has taken the great step towards [Sidenote: Modern France now
definitively begins.] the gradual absorption of all Gaul. The modern
kingdom of France dates its definite existence from the election of
Hugh; the successive partitions showed in what way the stream of events
was running, but the election of Hugh was the full establishment of the
thing itself. There now was, what till quite lately there has been ever
since, a French King reigning at Paris. The Gallo-Roman land now finally
shook off the last relics of that Teutonic domination under which it had
been more or less completely held ever [Sidenote: Connexion between
France and Germany ceases.] since the days of Hlodwig. The Western
Kingdom now broke off all traces of its old connexion with the Eastern.
Up to this time the tradition of the former unity of the whole Frankish
dominion had still lingered on.[436] No such feeling remains after the
final establishment of the Parisian dynasty; the German Cæsar now
becomes as alien to Capetian France as his brother at Byzantium. And
another [Sidenote: Lotharingia, hitherto] result took place.
Lotharingia, the border land, the seat of loyalty to the Carolingian
house, still, after the Capetian [Sidenote: fluctuating between Gaul and
Germany, now becomes German.] revolution, kept its love for the old
Imperial line. But its position was now necessarily changed. Lotharingia
kept its Carolingian princes, but it kept them only by definitively
becoming a fief of the Teutonic Kingdom. [Sidenote: Charles taken and
imprisoned. 991.] Charles died in prison, but his children continued to
reign in Lotharingia as vassals of the Empire. Lotharingia was thus
wholly lost to France; that part of it which was kept by the descendants
of Charles in the female line still preserves its freedom as part of the
independent kingdom of Belgium. But the revolution was now fully
accomplished; the struggle of a hundred years was over; the race and the
tongue of the great Charles were finally wiped [Sidenote: Modern France
definitively begins.] out from the Kingdom of the Western Franks.
Modern, Celtic, Romance, Parisian, France was now definitively called
into being. A kingdom and nation was founded, in the face of which it
was for many ages the main work of every other European state to
maintain its freedom, its language, and its national being, against the
never-ceasing assaults, sometimes of open and high-handed violence,
sometimes of plausible falsehood and gilded treachery.
§ 5. _Comparison between France, England, and Normandy._
[Sidenote: Influence of the Normans on the Capetian revolution.]
The influence which the Norman Duke exercised on this great change is
carefully kept out of sight by the French historians; yet we cannot
doubt that the Norman writers are, this time at least, fully justified
in attributing to their sovereign a most important share in the
work.[437] Everything leads us to believe that Richard took a leading
[Sidenote: Personal share of Richard.] personal share in the revolution,
and it is quite certain that, but for the policy which Richard followed,
that revolution never could have taken place. It was the alliance
between Normandy and France which determined the fate of the Carolingian
dynasty.[438] And thus we are led back to the proposition with which I
started at an earlier stage [Sidenote: The Norman settlement made Gaul
French.] of this Chapter,[439] that it was the settlement of the
Scandinavians in Gaul which definitively made Gaul French. They settled
just at the point of transition, when the old German state of things was
beginning to give way to the new French state of things. The influence
of the new comers, notwithstanding their own Teutonic blood and speech,
was thrown altogether into the French scale. The Normans became French,
because a variety of circumstances brought them more within the range of
French influences than of any other. The connexion between Rolf and the
Carolingian dynasty was something purely political, or rather personal;
Rolf had done homage and sworn oaths to King Charles, and to King
Charles he stuck against all pretenders. But the main object of his
successors was to bring Normandy within the pale of Christianity and
civilization, in such shapes as Christianity and civilization bore
immediately before their eyes. This object they naturally sought by
establishing a connexion with their nearest neighbours; their standard
of language and manners was set by the French court of Paris, not by the
German court of Laon or by the more distant, the more purely Latin,
courts of Poitiers and Toulouse. The Normans thus became Frenchmen, and,
with the zeal of new proselytes, they became first and foremost in
everything that is characteristically French. The earliest and best
productions of the new-born French [Sidenote: French ideas take root in
Normandy.] language were the work of Norman poets. All the ideas which
were then growing up in France, ideas which it is hard to express
otherwise than by the vague and misleading names of feudalism and
chivalry, took firm root in Normandy, and there brought forth their most
abundant fruit. Had Normandy remained Danish, the Scandinavian
settlement would have been a most important diversion on behalf of the
Teutonic element; Romance Paris would have been in a manner hemmed in
between two Teutonic lands. And if the Scandinavian settlement had never
taken place at all, the French developement would at least have lost the
decisive support which it gained from the enlistment of such fresh and
vigorous disciples. It was the Normans, I repeat, who made Gaul French;
it was the Normans who made French Paris the capital of Gaul, and who
gave [Sidenote: The position of Normandy established by the Capetian
revolution.] Gaul the French lord of Paris for her King. On the other
hand, it was the Capetian revolution which gave Normandy her definite
position in Gaul and in Europe. Hitherto, in the minds and mouths of
good Frenchmen, and most likely of good Germans also, the Normans were
still simply the _Pirates_, and their sovereign the _Duke of the
Pirates_. Their presence was endured, because they were too strong to be
got rid of; but the half-heathen Danish intruders were still hateful to
the princes and people of Latin and Christian Gaul. With the election of
Hugh Capet all was changed. The firmest ally and supporter of the new
dynasty could no longer be looked on as an outcast or as an enemy. The
old question as to the relation between Normandy and the Kings of Laon
was buried for ever. Whatever relations had hitherto existed between the
Duke of the Normans and the King of the West-Franks, there was no doubt
that the Duke of the Normans was the vassal, the most powerful and the
most loyal vassal, of the Duke of the French, and the Duke of the French
and the King of the West-Franks were now one and the same person.
Normandy was now thoroughly naturalized; the doubtful position which it
had held in Carolingian times passed altogether away; it became the
mightiest and noblest among the fiefs of [Sidenote: Comparatively
friendly relations between the duchy and the crown.] the Capetian crown.
And for a long while the relations between the duchy and the crown
remained, on the whole, friendly. It was not till later days, till
Normandy was under the sway of her greatest Duke, that the old hostility
broke out afresh, and that King Henry of Paris showed himself as eager
as King Lewis of Laon to dispossess the prince and people who cut off
himself and his city from the mouth of the Seine. Up to the days of
Henry and William the good understanding between France and Normandy was
seldom broken. And, even counting the wars of Henry and William, we
shall find that, considering the power of the vassal and his close
neighbourhood to his lord, hostilities between Rouen and Paris were not
specially frequent. The rebellions of Hugh the Great alone against the
Kings whom he had set up and put down would probably be found to be more
in number than the wars between France and Normandy, from the
commendation of Richard to Hugh to the day when England and Normandy
alike were merged in the vast dominions of the princes of Anjou.
[Sidenote: Connexion of French history with the general subject.]
The close connexion between Norman and French history, the way in which
we may say that Normandy created France and that France created
Normandy, must be my excuse for dwelling at an apparently
disproportionate length on some subjects which are only indirectly
connected with English history. In order thoroughly to understand the
Norman Conquest of England, it is almost as needful to have a clear view
of the condition and earlier history of Normandy as it is to have a
clear view of the condition and earlier history of England. And such a
clear view of Norman affairs cannot be had without constant references
to French, and occasional references to German, history. And the notices
of French history which are needed for this end may serve to illustrate
English history [Sidenote: Contrast between the political condition of
England and of Gaul.] in another way. The contrast between the political
condition of England and that of the Western Kingdom is most striking,
even at this early time. Looked at superficially, there is a certain
likeness between the two. In both cases, a King of narrow limited power
stands at the head of a body of princes, some of whom, in extent of
dominion, might almost—on the mainland not only almost but
altogether—rank as his peers. But when we come to look more narrowly
into the matter, we shall see that the likeness is only superficial. In
truth there is very little real likeness at all; and if we admitted a
stronger likeness than there is, if we admitted that the two countries
had accidentally met at the same point, still their meeting would have
been wholly accidental, because the two countries were [Sidenote:
England tending to unity, Gaul to division.] moving in exactly opposite
directions. England was directly tending to unity; Gaul was directly
tending to division. In the long run indeed the division to which Gaul
was tending paved the way for a closer unity than England has ever
reached; but, at the moment, it was [Sidenote: In England Princes had
sunk into Governors;] to division that Gaul was directly tending. The
English kingdom was formed by the gradual union of many distinct states;
to independent Kings had succeeded dependent Kings, and to dependent
Kings had succeeded Ealdormen appointed by the King and his Witan. Great
and powerful as was an English Ealdorman, he still was not a sovereign,
not even a dependent or vassal sovereign; he ruled only with a delegated
authority; the King was supreme, and the Ealdorman was only a governor
sent by [Sidenote: in Gaul governors had grown into princes.] him. In
Gaul the process was directly opposite. Local governors who, under the
first Carolingian Kings and Emperors, had been simple lieutenants of the
sovereign, had gradually grown into hereditary princes, who at most went
through the decent ceremony of receiving their dominions as a grant from
a King who could not withhold them. The Dukes, Counts, and Marquesses of
France, of Flanders, of Aquitaine, of Septimania, of Barcelona, had in
this way grown into sovereigns. Starting from the position of an English
Ealdorman, they had won the formal position, and more than the practical
independence, of a vassal King of Wales or Scotland. Normandy was a real
fief from the beginning; the grant to Rolf was the exact parallel of the
grant to Guthrum; but during the second half of the tenth century the
dominions of Rolf were ruled by a native sovereign of his own blood,
while the dominions of Guthrum were administered by [Sidenote:
Difference of the limitations on the power of the King in England and in
Gaul.] Ealdormen appointed by the English King. Again, the power of the
King was narrowly limited in both kingdoms, but it was limited in
altogether different ways. The power of the King of the English was
limited, because he could do no important act without the consent of his
Witan. The power of the King of the West-Franks was limited, because he
was shorn of all direct authority beyond the narrow limits of Laon and
Compiègne. The King of the English, in the exercise of such authority as
the law gave him, was obeyed in every corner of his kingdom. The King of
the West-Franks did as he chose in his own city of Laon; at Paris and
Rouen, at Poitiers and Toulouse, he received only such measures of
obedience as the sovereigns of those capitals chose to yield to him.
[Sidenote: No regular National Assembly in Gaul.] No regular assembly
constantly meeting, like our Witenagemót, had authority over the whole
land, and kept the whole land bound together. We read of conferences of
princes; but they are rarely held, except for some great and
extraordinary occasion like the election of a King. An assembly, meeting
yearly or oftener, to sanction the ordinary acts of the King and to pass
laws binding on the whole kingdom, was something utterly unknown.
[Sidenote: Amount of real power retained by the later Karlings.]
And yet, when we see how narrow was the immediate dominion, how small
were the available resources, of the later Karlings, it strikes us with
wonder throughout the whole history to see how much influence, how much
real power, they still kept. The King, however many enemies may be in
arms against him, is always an important person, and he commonly finds
an army to bring against the rebel army. We wonder where he got his
army, and where he got the resources to set his army in motion. In days
when war maintained itself an army was doubtless less costly than it is
now, and a victorious army might even enrich its leader. But whence did
the armies come? Surely not wholly from the narrow limits of the King’s
immediate territory. Nor were they likely to be formed by the
spontaneous loyalty of volunteers. The influence of the royal name, the
reverence attaching to the blood of the great Emperor, might do a good
deal to paralyse the efforts of enemies, but they would hardly of
themselves bring distant followers to the royal standard. But the King,
if he had few subjects, was not wholly without [Sidenote: The Kings drew
support from various quarters.] friends. We find hints that the lesser
vassals often found it their interest to support the King against the
encroachments of the great Dukes. We find that in a war with one
rebellious potentate he was often supported by the rivals of that
potentate, and that his more distant vassals helped him against those
who were more formidable to them than he was. We find also that he could
especially rely on the help of those Bishops who, holding directly of
the crown, were clothed with the character of ecclesiastical
princes.[440] And in the later and more peaceful [Sidenote: Increase of
the royal power under Lothar.] times of Lothar and Hugh Capet, the King
appears far more clearly than before in the character of an effective
head of the kingdom. We read more commonly of consultations with the
other princes, and we see the King, by common consent, wielding the
forces of all his vassals, including those of the Duke of the French
himself. The wily Hugh no doubt saw that it was his interest to
strengthen in every way the power and reputation of the crown which he
meant one day to place on his own brow. Altogether we may doubt whether
the practical power of the later Carolingian Kings was not really quite
as great [Sidenote: Power of the crown not immediately increased by the
change of dynasty.] as that of the early Capetians. The power of the
crown rested mainly on influence and prescription, and influence and
prescription were not on the side of the Parisian dynasty. The immediate
territorial dominion of the Parisian Kings was no doubt much larger than
that of the later Karlings; Paris and Laon together were far greater
than Laon by itself. But the connexion between the crown and the great
vassals seems to have been distinctly weakened by the change of dynasty.
The descendants of Robert and Hugh did not command the hereditary
respect which attached to princes sprung from the blood of Charles and
Pippin. Some disputed and outlying fiefs were altogether lost to the
kingdom, and the King’s sphere of action was far more strictly confined
than before to the lands north of the Loire. Lotharingia and the Spanish
March fell away; the connexion with Flanders gradually weakened;
Aquitaine scarcely acknowledged even a nominal dependence. Assemblies
and conferences of the whole kingdom, rare before, seem now to go wholly
out of use. Even the vassals north of the Loire, even the former vassals
of the Parisian duchy, seem to have less connexion with the crown than
heretofore. In fact the French Duke lost by becoming King, just as the
German King lost by becoming Emperor. As Duke he had been a less
dignified, but he had been a more effectual, over-lord. The Parisian
Dukes themselves had done more than all the rest of the world to set
forth and strengthen the doctrine that the immediate vassals of a King
were entitled to practical sovereignty. Thus, while England was getting
more and more united, Gaul was getting more and more divided. Under
other circumstances, the Western realm might very easily have changed,
step by step, from a kingdom into [Sidenote: Isolation in France led to
closer union.] a confederation, just as Germany did.[441] But as it was,
the very isolation into which the several parts of the kingdom now fell
proved in the end the path to an unity such as England never has seen,
such as we trust England never may see. Utter isolation paved the way
for utter centralization. In England, as the different parts of the
realm became more closely united, all shared in a common national
freedom, without any complete sacrifice of local and municipal
independence. In Gaul the crown annexed, one by one, all the dominions
of its own vassals[442] and such of the dominions of its neighbours as
came within its reach. Thus the whole kingdom knew no will but that of
the King. Widely as a modern English Parliament differs from an ancient
Witenagemót, the one has grown out of the other by gradual developement,
without any sudden change. In France and throughout Gaul the ancient
Teutonic assemblies died out altogether, [Sidenote: 1302.] and the
comparatively modern States General came into being as an original
device of Philip the Fair.
I must now return to the more immediate affairs of Normandy. There can
be no doubt that the various processes of which I have been speaking,
the Christianizing, the Gallicizing, and the feudalizing process, all
went on vigorously in Normandy during the reign of Richard the
[Sidenote: Growth of the doctrine of nobility.] Fearless. The doctrine
of nobility was fast growing; it was taking a form quite different from
the ancient relations of eorl and ceorl, quite different from the later
relations of thegn and ceorl, as they have been at any time understood
in England. Hitherto mere lack of illustrious birth [Sidenote: Humble
origin of many princely and noble houses.] did not keep a man back from
the highest offices. The legend that Hugh Capet himself was the son of a
butcher of Paris,[443] utterly fabulous as it is, marks the popular
belief as to the origin of many of the princely houses of the time. The
legends of Lyderic the Forester[444] and of Torquatius and
Tertullus[445] point to no very lofty origin on the part [Sidenote:
Origin of the Norman baronage.] of the princely houses of Flanders and
Anjou. So it is in the reign of Richard that we find the beginning of
the Norman baronage, and the origin of many of its members was certainly
not specially illustrious. Some noble families indeed trace their
descent up to old companions of Rolf, such as the house of Harcourt,
which claims Bernard the Dane as its patriarch. But the larger part of
the Norman nobility derived their origin from the amours or doubtful
marriages of the Norman Dukes. Not only their own children, but all the
kinsfolk of their wives or mistresses, were carefully promoted by ducal
grants or [Sidenote: Children and kinsfolk of Richard.] by advantageous
marriages. Thus Sprota, the mother of Richard the Fearless, during the
troubles of her son’s early reign married one Asperleng, a rich miller.
From this marriage sprang Rudolf Count of Ivry, a mighty man in the
reign of his nephew, and also several daughters, who were of course well
disposed of in marriage.[446] Richard himself, whose marriage with Emma
of Paris was childless,[447] was the father of a large illegitimate or
doubtful offspring. Besides undoubted bastards,[448] there was a
considerable brood, including Richard, the next Duke, and Emma, the
future Lady of the English, who were legitimated by Richard’s marriage
with their mother. These were the children of Gunnor, a woman of Danish
birth, to whom different stories attribute a noble and a plebeian
origin.[449] From these children and from the kinsfolk of Gunnor, all of
whom were promoted in one way or another, [Sidenote: Progress of feudal
doctrines.] sprang a large part of the Norman nobility. Meanwhile the
principles of feudalism were making fast progress both in Normandy and
in France. Hugh the Great’s doctrine of commendation, practised on so
magnificent a scale between the duchies of Normandy and France, was
being everywhere carried out with regard to smaller possessions. Such at
least is the natural inference from the general course of events; for it
must be remembered that Normandy has in this age absolutely nothing to
show in the way of written legislation. The wealth of the clergy
[Sidenote: Richard’s grants to the Church.] was also largely increasing.
Richard, unlike his father, was munificent in his gifts to the Church,
especially to [Sidenote: His foundation of Fécamp. 990.] his new, or
rather restored, foundation of Fécamp and to the still more famous house
of Saint Michael in Peril of the Sea.[450] The original foundation of
Fécamp was for secular canons.[451] It was only in the days of the
second Richard that the Benedictine rule was introduced.[452] Fécamp,
alone among the great monasteries of the Norman mainland, stands in the
land north-east of the Seine; all the rest lie either in the valley of
the river or in the true Norman districts to the west of it. Fécamp,
like Westminster, Holyrood, and the Escurial, contained minster and
palace in close neighbourhood; the spot became a favourite
dwelling-place of Richard in his later [Sidenote: Dispute with Æthelred.
991.] days, and it was at last the place of his burial. The last years
of his reign present only one important event, a dispute, possibly a
war, with the English King Æthelred, a discussion of which I reserve for
a place in the next Chapter in my more detailed narrative of English
affairs. [Sidenote: Death of Richard. 996.] At last, Richard the
Fearless, Duke of the Pirates as he is called to the last by the French
historians, died of “the lesser apoplexy,” after a reign of fifty-three
years.[453] As with several other princes who play a part in the world
for an unusual number of years,[454] one is surprised to find that he
was not much older in years than he was. Unlike his enemies, Arnulf and
Theobald, whose lives were really prolonged beyond the common span of
human existence, Richard the Fearless, or Richard the Old, as he was
called to distinguish him from his successor, after all that he had done
and undergone, after all the changes that he had wrought and beheld, had
lived no longer than sixty-three years.
§ 6. _Early years of Richard the Good._ 996–997.
[Sidenote: Reign of Richard the Good. 996–1026.]
Richard the Fearless was succeeded by his son Richard, surnamed the
Good, whose reign carries us beyond the limits of the present sketch
into the essential and central portion of our history. Richard was a
direct actor in the events which were the immediate causes of the
Conquest. He was the uncle of Eadward the Confessor, the grandfather of
William the Bastard; and he personally played a certain part in English
affairs. I will therefore reserve his actions for their proper place in
my general narrative, and I will here speak of one event only, which
marks the complete developement of the influences which had been at work
throughout the reign of his father. Richard succeeded to the government
of a state in which the Danish tongue, Danish manners, perhaps even the
old Danish religion, still lingered in particular spots, but which was
now, in the face of other nations, a French state, a member, and the
principal member, of the Capetian [Sidenote: Aristocratic feelings of
Richard.] commonwealth. He had imbibed to the full all the new-born
aristocratic feelings of feudal and chivalrous France. He would have
none but gentlemen about him.[455] This is perhaps the earliest use of a
word so familiar both in French and in English, but which bears such
different meanings in the two languages. But, whoever was a gentleman in
the language of Richard’s court, it is plain that the word took in all
who could pretend to any kind of kindred or affinity, legitimate or
illegitimate, with the sovereign. The way in which the exclusively
aristocratic household of Richard is spoken of seems to show that his
conduct in this respect was felt to be something different from that of
his father. Taken in connexion with what follows, it may well have been
the last pound which broke [Sidenote: Revolt of the peasants. 997.] the
camel’s back. Popular discontent broke out in the great peasant revolt
to which I had occasion to allude earlier in this chapter.[456] We may
suppose that the peasantry were mainly of Celtic, Roman, or Frankish
origin; that is, that they sprang from that mixture of those three
elements which produced the modern French nation. But we may well
believe that many a man of Scandinavian descent, many a small allodial
holder who was unwilling to commend himself to a lord, threw in his lot
with the insurgents. [Sidenote: Their regular political organization.]
What is most remarkable in the story of this revolt is the regular
political organization of the revolters. The systematic way in which
they set to work is common enough in cities, but is exceedingly rare in
rural communities. It is almost enough to place this revolt of the
Norman peasantry side by side with the more famous and more fortunate
revolt of the Forest Cantons against [Sidenote: They establish a
“commune” with a representative assembly.] the encroachments of Austria.
We can hardly believe what we read when we find that these rebellious
villains established a regular representative parliament.[457] The
peasants of each district deputed two of their number to a general
assembly, the decisions of which were to be binding on the whole
body.[458] The men who could devise such a system in such an age had
certainly made further steps in political progress than the masters
against whom they rebelled. The constitution which they established is
expressly called by a name dear to the inhabitants of the cities of
those ages, a name glorious in the eyes of modern political inquirers,
but a name which was, beyond all other names, a word of fear to feudal
barons and prelates, and to those Kings who were not clear-sighted
enough to see that their own interests and the interests of their people
were the same. The peasantry of Normandy, like the citizens of Le Mans
in after times, “made a _commune_.”[459] Such a constitution could
hardly have been devised offhand by mere peasants. We can hardly doubt
that it had a groundwork in local institutions which the newly-grown
aristocracy were trampling under foot, and that the so-called rebels
were simply defending the inheritance of their fathers. We have the tale
only from the mouths of enemies; but the long list of popular
grievances,[460] and the testimony of enemies to the regular order with
which the rebellion was carried on, are enough to show that some very
promising germs of freedom were here crushed in the bud. The freedom
which these men sought to establish would have been in truth more
valuable, because more fairly spread over the whole country, than the
liberties [Sidenote: The revolt crushed by Rudolf of Ivry.] won by
isolated cities. But the revolt was crushed with horrible cruelty[461]
by Rudolf, Count of Ivry, the Duke’s uncle, himself a churl by birth,
the son of the miller who married the cast off wife or mistress of Duke
William.[462] After this, we hear no more of peasant insurrections in
Normandy, but it may well be that the struggle was not [Sidenote:
Probable results of the struggle.] wholly fruitless. Villainage in
Normandy was lighter, and died out earlier, than in most parts of
France; and the most genuine pieces of Norman jurisprudence which abide
to this day, the ancient constitutions of the Channel Islands, strange
and antiquated as they seem in our eyes, breathe a spirit of freedom
worthy of the air of England, of Switzerland, or of Norway.[463]
Such was the country and the people, whose history, from the beginning
of the eleventh century, becomes inseparably interwoven with that of
England. We will now go back to our own island, and, taking up the
thread of our narrative, we will go on with a more detailed account of
English affairs from the beginning of those renewed Danish invasions
which paved the way for the still more eventful invasion of the Norman.
CHAPTER V.
THE DANISH CONQUEST OF ENGLAND.[464]
975–1016.
[Illustration: THE ENGLISH EMPIRE in the TENTH AND ELEVENTH CENTURIES.]
FOR THE DELEGATES OF THE CLARENDON PRESS.
Æthelred the Second, the prince in whose reign England and Normandy
first began to have a direct bearing on each other’s affairs, is the
only ruler of the male line of Ecgberht whom we can unhesitatingly set
down as a bad man and a bad King. With singularly few exceptions,
[Sidenote: Character of Æthelred the Second; his degeneracy.] the
princes of that house form, as we have seen, one of the greatest lines
to be found in the annals of any kingly house. With regard to one or two
members of the family the evidence is so contradictory, they were cut
off so young or reigned so short a time, that we have no certain
knowledge what they really were. But Æthelred stands alone in giving us
the wretched sight of a long reign of utter misgovernment, unredeemed,
as far as we can see, by any of those personal virtues which have
sometimes caused public errors and crimes to be forgotten. Personal
beauty and a certain elegance of manners, qualities consistent with any
amount of vice and folly, are the highest merits attributed to a prince,
who, instead of the Unconquered, the Glorious, the Magnificent, or the
Peaceful, has received no nobler historical surname than that of the
Unready.[465] His actions display a certain amount of energy, perhaps
rather of mere restlessness. It was at any rate an energy utterly
unregulated and misapplied, an energy which began enterprises and never
ended them, which wasted itself on needless and distant expeditions
while no effective resistance was made to the enemy at the gates.
Æthelred’s reign of thirty-eight years displays little but the neglect
of every kingly duty, little but weakness, impolicy, cowardice, blind
trust in unworthy favourites and even in detected traitors. It is full
of acts of injustice and cruelty, some of which are laid to the charge
of the King himself, while others, if he did not himself order them, he
at least did nothing to hinder or to punish. In that age almost
everything in the history of a nation depended on the personal
[Sidenote: Importance of the personal character of rulers.] character of
its ruler. One great King could raise a kingdom to the highest point of
prosperity; one weak or wicked King could plunge it into the lowest
depths of degradation. So it was with England in the tenth century. The
fabric of glory and dominion which was built up by the labours of
Ælfred, Eadward, Æthelstan, Eadmund, and Eadred, the fabric which was
firmly welded together by the strong and peaceful rule of Eadgar, now
seems to fall to pieces at the first touch of a vigorous and determined
enemy. And yet it was not wholly so. The work of so many conquerors and
lawgivers from Ecgberht [Sidenote: The English needed only leaders
worthy of the people.] onwards was not wholly fruitless. England passed
into the hands of a foreign master; but England passed into his hands as
a single kingdom, retaining too her old dominion over her vassal
principalities. And it should not be forgotten how completely the whole
evil was due to incompetent, cowardly, or traitorous leaders. The heart
of the English people was still sound. Wherever a brave and honest man
was in local command, local resistance was as vigorous as it could have
been under Ælfred himself. And in the last agony, when valour and wisdom
seemed all too late, Eadmund, the glorious son of the wretched Æthelred,
stood forth like one of the old heroes of his house, to win back half
the land from the invader, and to lose the rest far more through guile
and treason than through open warfare. The thing which is utterly
inexplicable throughout the reigns both of Æthelred and of Eadmund is
the strange and incomprehensible treason of two or three Englishmen in
high command. It is equally strange how their treachery could repeatedly
paralyse the efforts of a whole nation, and how, after their repeated
treasons, the traitors were again taken into favour and confidence by
the princes whom they had betrayed. Our facts are minute and explicit;
but we often need some explanation of their causes which is not
forthcoming. A few of those private letters of which we have such
abundance two or three centuries later would give us the key to many
difficulties which chronicles, laws, and charters leave wholly
insoluble.
§ 1. _Reign of Eadward the Martyr._ 975–979.
[Sidenote: Death of Eadgar. 975.]
Eadgar was succeeded by his eldest son Eadward, whose treacherous
murder, though he did not die in any cause of religion or patriotism,
gained him the surname of the Martyr. But he did not succeed without an
interregnum, without a disputed election, or even without something
approaching to a civil war. It shows how thoroughly we are now standing
on the firm ground of contemporary history that we can recover a
distinct portraiture of many [Sidenote: Movement against the monks,
headed by Ælfhere of Mercia;] of the actors in these scenes. The moment
Eadgar was dead, a reaction took place against the monastic party, which
was met by as powerful a movement on their behalf. Ælfhere, the
Ealdorman of the Mercians and a kinsman of Eadgar,[466] headed the
movement against the monks, and drove them out of several churches into
which Eadgar’s favour had introduced them. But the monks found powerful
supporters in the eastern part of the kingdom, where their cause was
strongly supported, it would seem even in arms,[467] by two remarkable
men who then held the governments [Sidenote: and resisted by Æthelwine
of East-Anglia and Brihtnoth of Essex.] of East-Anglia and Essex.
Æthelwine of East-Anglia, one of the founders of Ramsey abbey, is
chiefly known for his bounty to monastic foundations, to whose gratitude
he doubtless owed his singular surname of the Friend of God.[468]
Alongside of him stood his maternal uncle Brihtnoth, Ealdorman of the
East-Saxons,[469] whose lavish gifts to Ely, Ramsey, and other
monasteries, won him well nigh the reputation of a saint, and whom we
shall soon find dying a hero’s death in the defence of his [Sidenote:
Disputed election to the crown.] country against heathen invaders. More
interesting however in a constitutional point of view than these
ecclesiastical disputes is the controversy as to the succession to the
crown. The election of a minor is in any case a thing to be noticed, and
a dispute between two minors is more remarkable still. Eadgar had left
two sons, Eadward, aged about thirteen, the child of his first wife
Æthelflæd, and Æthelred, aged seven years, the child of his second wife
Ælfthryth, the daughter of Ordgar and widow of Æthelwold, who, under the
Latinized name of Elfrida, has been [Sidenote: State of the succession;
a minority unavoidable.] made the subject of so much strange
romance.[470] Had Eadgar left a brother behind him, there can be no
doubt that he would, like Ælfred and Eadred, have been placed on the
throne by universal consent. But there was no son of Eadmund living;
indeed it is not clear that there was any male descendant of Ælfred
living. There were indeed men, like Æthelweard the historian,[471] who
were sprung in the male line from Æthelwulf and Ecgberht; but in such
distant kinsmen some unusual personal merit would probably have been
needed to bring their claims on the crown into any notice. At this
moment there was no grown man among the immediate members of the royal
family, and there was no one, either among strangers or among more
distant kinsmen, who possessed that predominant merit and predominant
influence which marked out Harold for the crown ninety years later. The
evils of a minority had therefore to be risked. Yet it seems strange
that, if a minor King was to be accepted, there could be any doubt as to
which minor was to be chosen. Eadward is said to have been distinctly
recommended by his father, and with good reason. He was the elder son,
and though primogeniture gave no positive right, yet it would surely be
enough to turn the scale, even in a doubtful case, and this case, one
would have thought, was not doubtful. The election of Eadward would have
the unspeakable gain of bringing the minority to an end six years sooner
than the election of his brother. Yet we read on good authority[472]
that there was a distinct division of sentiment among the electors, and
that a strong party supported the child Æthelred against the boy
Eadward. In this we can hardly fail to see the influence of the widowed
Lady[473] Ælfthryth, [Sidenote: Party of Ælfthryth and the monks.] in
alliance with one of the two parties in the state. And there is every
reason to believe that the party of Ælfthryth was the party of the
monks. She was, by her first marriage, the sister-in-law of Æthelwine,
and we find several signs that neither Dunstan nor the monks were so
powerful under Eadward as they had been under his [Sidenote: Patriotic
conduct of Dunstan,] father. It was therefore a distinct sacrifice of
their party to their country, when Dunstan and his fellow Archbishop
[Sidenote: and election of Eadward.] Oswald settled the controversy by a
vigorous appeal on behalf of Eadward, urging the will of the late King,
and no doubt enlarging also on the manifest expediency of the choice.
Eadward was accordingly elected, crowned, and anointed. But that his
short reign was not wholly favourable to the monastic party may be
inferred by the continuance of the controversy, and the holding of
several [Sidenote: Banishment of Earl Oslac.] synods to discuss the
points at issue.[474] We may see a similar influence at work in the
banishment of Earl Oslac, a special favourite of Eadgar, whose
punishment and its injustice are bitterly lamented by our best
authorities.[475] It will be remembered that, when the last Northumbrian
[Sidenote: 954.] King was overthrown by Eadred, the government of the
country was entrusted to an Earl of the King’s choice. [Sidenote: 966.]
Oswulf, thus appointed by Eadred, ruled over all Northumberland, till
Eadgar again divided the old kingdoms of Bernicia and Deira, giving the
northern province to Oswulf and the southern to Oslac.[476] On Oslac’s
banishment, the whole seems to have been again united under Waltheof,
who was probably of the family of Oswulf, and of whose own descendents
we shall often hear again.
§ 2. _From the election of Æthelred to the first dispute with Normandy._
979–1000.
[Sidenote: Murder of Eadward and election of Æthelred. 979.]
Eadward, after a four years’ reign, was cruelly murdered. There is
little doubt that this foul deed was done by the instigation, if not by
the personal order, of his step-mother Ælfthryth,[477] whose son
Æthelred was now elected at the age of ten years.[478] For thirty-seven
years England was governed [Sidenote: Death of Dunstan. 988.] by him or
in his name, and after Dunstan was gone, the reign of Æthelred meant
only the reign of his unworthy favourites. The world soon learned how
great was the change when the Imperial sceptre of Britain was no longer
grasped by the hand of Eadgar the Peaceful. Æthelred had not been two
years on the throne when the Danish invasions began again. The whole
interest of the history so completely gathers round this fearful scourge
that we may pass swiftly by the few, and mostly unlucky, events of
[Sidenote: London burned. 982. (Chron. and Flor. Wig.)] internal history
which are handed down to us. In one year London was burned, seemingly by
one of those accidental fires which, then and long after, were so common
and so destructive in cities where the buildings were mainly [Sidenote:
Siege of Rochester. 986.] of wood. In another year, owing to some
internal sedition the cause of which is not explained, Æthelred, then a
youth of seventeen, besieged the town of Rochester, and being unable to
take it, ravaged and alienated some of the [Sidenote: 987.] lands of the
bishopric.[479] In another year we hear of an epidemic fever, and of a
murrain among beasts, seemingly the forerunner of the modern
cattle-plague, which raged through the whole of England in a way unknown
to former times.[480] Besides these misfortunes of different kinds,
[Sidenote: Death of Ælfhere. 983.] Ælfhere of Mercia died, and was
succeeded in his ealdormanship by his son Ælfric, who was banished some
years afterwards, we are not told for what cause. The first marriage
[Sidenote: Banishment of Ælfric. 986.] of Æthelred to the daughter of
one of his nobles, whose name and parentage are uncertain, and the birth
of his sons Æthelstan and Eadmund, afterwards the renowned Ironside,
must also be placed within this period.[481]
[Sidenote: The Danish invasions renewed;]
From these obscure domestic events we turn to the terrible drama of the
Danish wars. This new series of invasions, which led in the end to the
submission of all England to a Danish King, form the third and last
period of Danish warfare. But the third period, after so long an
interval, is as it were ushered in by a kind of repetition of the two
earlier periods. Before the great attack on the [Sidenote: first, with
mere plundering incursions, [980–982];] kingdom of England by a King of
all Denmark, we find a short period of mere plunder and a short period
of attempted settlement. During the first years of Æthelred the Danish
invasions once more become mere piratical incursions. Then for a few
years they cease altogether. [Sidenote: then attempts at settlement,
[988–993].] Then they begin a second time, in a shape which seems to
imply intended settlement, and which presently grows into [Sidenote:
Characters of Swegen of Denmark and Olaf of Norway.] regular political
conquests. The leading spirit of all these invasions was Swegen,[482]
the son of Harold Blaatand, the Danish King who played so important a
part in the affairs of Normandy. And for a while there appears by his
side another rover of the North, whose career was, if possible, stranger
than his own, the famous Olaf Tryggvesson of Norway. But it is hard
indeed to force the entries in the English Chronicles, which hardly ever
touch upon the internal affairs of Scandinavia,[483] into agreement with
the half fabulous narratives in the Danish historians and in the
Norwegian sagas. Swegen, baptized in his infancy, and held at the font
by an Imperial godfather, had received the name of Otto, as Guthrum
received the name of Æthelstan.[484] But he cast away his new name and
his new faith, and waged war against his Christian father on behalf of
Thor and Odin.[485] The life of Olaf, as told in the sagas of his
country,[486] is one of the most amazing either in history or in
romance. The posthumous child of a murdered King and a fugitive Queen,
he is sold as a slave in Esthonia, he flourishes through court favour in
Russia, he wins principalities by marriage in Wendland and in England,
and is converted to Christianity by an abbot in the Scilly Islands. The
early life of Swegen is likewise connected by tradition with England; he
is said to have been driven from Denmark, to have sought for shelter in
England, and, when repelled by Æthelred, to have taken refuge for a time
at the more hospitable court of Kenneth of Scotland.[487] It is highly
probable that Swegen took a part as a private wiking in the first three
years of piracy, which chiefly laid waste the shores of Wessex and Kent.
The presence of Olaf in England may also be inferred from the statement
that Cheshire was ravaged by enemies who are distinctly pointed out as
Norwegians.[488] That Swegen indeed had a hand in the earlier incursions
is almost proved by an interval [Sidenote: Cessation of inroads.
982–988.] of peace succeeding them. This interval doubtless answers to
the time of Swegen’s parricidal war with his father, which is quite
enough to account for the cessation of [Sidenote: They begin again.] his
attacks upon England. After six years’ intermission, [Sidenote: Battle
at Watchet. 988.] the invasions began again with an attack on Watchet on
the western coast of Somerset, in which several English thegns were
killed, but the Danes were at last beaten off.[489] Three years later, a
much more serious attack was made on the east of England, seemingly with
the intention [Sidenote: Norwegian invasion. 991.] of making a
settlement. This seems to have been a Norwegian expedition; the leaders
were Justin and Guthmund, sons of Steitan, and there seems every reason
to believe that Olaf Tryggvesson himself was present also.[490]
[Sidenote: Plunder of Ipswich.] They plundered Ipswich and thence
advanced into Essex, where the brave Ealdorman Brihtnoth met them in
battle [Sidenote: Battle of Maldon and death of Brihtnoth.] at Maldon.
The hero of the monks was also the hero of the soldiers, and the
exploits and death of the valiant Ealdorman were sung in strains which
rank among the noblest efforts of Teutonic poetry.[491] It is a relief
to turn from the wretched picture of misgovernment and treachery which
the reign of Æthelred presents, and to hear the deeds of one of the few
righteous who were left told in our own ancient tongue in verses which
echo the true ring of the battle-pieces of Homer. The fight of Maldon is
the only battle of the days of Æthelred of which any minute details are
preserved, and every detail throws light on something in the manners or
the military tactics of the age. The battle took place near the town of
Maldon, on the banks of the tidal river Panta, now called the
Blackwater. The town lies on a hill; immediately at its base flows one
branch of the river, while another, still crossed by a mediæval bridge,
flows at a little distance to the north. The Danish ships seem to have
lain in the branch nearest to the town, and their crews must have held
the space between the two streams, while Brihtnoth came to the rescue
from the north. He seems to have halted on the spot now marked by the
church of Heybridge,[492] having both streams between him and the town.
He rode to the spot, but when he had drawn up his army in order, he
alighted from his horse and took his place among his own household
troops.[493] These were men bound to him by the traditional tie of
personal fidelity handed on from the earliest recorded days of the
Teutonic race. Like Harold at Senlac, Brihtnoth fought on foot; an
English King or Ealdorman used his horse only to carry him to and from
the field of battle; in the actual combat the first in rank was bound to
share every danger of his lowlier comrades.[494] The wikings now sent a
herald, offering to withdraw and go back to their ships, on payment of
money to be assessed at their own discretion. Brihtnoth of course
indignantly refused any such demand; steel and not gold was the only
metal that could judge between him and them. The two hosts now stood on
the two sides of the water, a deep and narrow channel, which, as the
tide was coming in, could not be at once crossed. The bridge, a still
older predecessor doubtless of that which still remains, was held, at
Brihtnoth’s order, by three champions whose exploit reminds us, like
some other incidents of the battle, of one of the most famous tales in
the poetical history of Rome. The dauntless three who kept the bridge at
Maldon were Wulfstan the son of Ceola, Ælfhere, and Maccus, the name of
which last champion may suggest some curious inquiries as to his
origin.[495] Till the tide turned, the two armies stood facing each
other, eager for battle, but unable to do more than exchange a few
flights of arrows. At last the turn of the tide made the ford passable;
the Northmen began to cross, and Brihtnoth, perhaps with a kind of
chivalrous feeling which was doubtless utterly thrown away upon such
enemies, allowed large numbers of them to pass unhindered.[496] And now
the fight began in earnest. The English stood, as at Senlac, in the
array common to them and their enemies, a strong line, or rather wedge,
of infantry, forming a wall with their shields. As in the old Roman
battles, the fight began with the hurling of the javelins, and was
carried on in close combat with the broadsword.[497] Brihtnoth was
wounded early in the battle, and his sister’s son Wulfmær was disabled.
But the brave old chief went on fighting, and, after slaying several
wikings with his own hand, he was cut down, and two gallant followers
who fought at his side were slain with him. One of these was another
Wulfmær, the young son of Wulfstan, who fought by his lord while his
father was guarding the bridge. After the death of the valiant
Ealdorman, the thoroughly Homeric character of the story comes out more
strongly than ever. The fight over the body of Brihtnoth sounds like the
fight over the body of Patroklos,[498] or like that later day when
“Fiercer grew the fighting
Around Valerius dead.”
Two caitiffs, the only faithless ones among the body-guard of the fallen
hero, two brothers whose names are handed down to infamy as Godric and
Godwig, the sons of Odda, forgot their duty to their lord who had shown
them such favours, and fled from the field, leaving his body in the
hands of his enemies. Godric even added the further treason of mounting
the horse on which Brihtnoth had ridden to the field, so that many
thought that it was the Ealdorman himself who had fled.[499] The English
were thus thrown into confusion; the fortress of shields was
broken.[500] The enemy had thus time to mangle the body of Brihtnoth,
[Sidenote: Faithfulness of the _comitatus_ of Brihtnoth.] and to carry
off his head as a trophy.[501] But the fight was renewed by Brihtnoth’s
special comrades, whose names and exploits are handed down to us in
verses which breathe the true fire of the warlike minstrelsy common to
Greek and Teuton. There fought Ælfwine the son of Ælfric, of a lordly
house among the Mercians;[502] there fought Æseferth the son of Ecglaf,
a Northumbrian hostage who had escaped from the enemy;[503] there fought
Brihtwold, old in years but valiant among the foremost; there fought
Eadward the Long, and Leofsunu, and others whose names live only in the
nameless poet’s verse, but among whom one must not be forgotten, one
whose tale shows that, deep as were the corruptions of English life
under this wretched reign, there was at least room left for lowly merit
to raise itself to honour. This was Dunnere, a churl by birth, but whose
rank is spoken of without the least shadow of contempt, and whose words
and deeds placed him on a level with the noblest of his comrades. In
short, the whole personal following of the East-Saxon Ealdorman seems to
have fought and fallen around his body.[504] The heathen had the
victory;[505] but the defeat of the English seems to have been by no
means decisive. We do not read that the Danes were able to spoil or burn
the town, according to their usual custom, and the body of Brihtnoth was
carried off in [Sidenote: His burial at Ely.] safety and found a worthy
resting-place. On an island in the great fen land between Mercia and
East-Anglia, on a height which in that part of Britain passes for a
considerable hill, the virgin Queen Æthelthryth (the Etheldreda of
hagiology) had, three centuries before, forsaken every duty of royal and
married life, to rule over a sisterhood which proved fruitful in saints
of royal birth.[506] Thus arose the great monastery of Ely; but, like
many other religious houses, it was utterly destroyed in the Danish
invasion of the ninth century. When the monks were in the height of
their power under Eadgar, Bishop Æthelwold, their great patron, chose
the forsaken site for a new foundation; a church was built, and a body
of monks took possession of the former home of sainted princesses. Among
the benefactors of the new house the Ealdorman of the East-Saxons was
one of the foremost. The first Abbot, whether from kindred or from
accident, bore the same name as his benefactor the Ealdorman. He,
according to the legend, died a martyr’s death, through the practice of
the Lady Ælfthryth, the unworthy niece of the pious chieftain.[507] The
second Abbot Ælfsige was bound to Brihtnoth by the tie of mutual
benefits. He now hastened to the place of slaughter, and carried off the
body of so great a benefactor of his house. The remains of Brihtnoth
were buried in the newly hallowed minster, the humble forerunner of the
most stately and varied of England’s cathedral churches. Under its
mighty lantern the brave and pious Ealdorman slept in peace, till, under
pretence of restoration, his bones were disturbed by the savages of the
[Sidenote: Gifts of his widow Æthelflæd; the Ely Tapestry.] eighteenth
century. His widow Æthelflæd shared his devotion to the house of Saint
Æthelthryth. She added to his gifts of lands; she offered a bracelet of
gold, perhaps part of the badges of his office; and she adorned the
minster with one gift, which, if it survived, would rank among the most
precious monuments of the history and art of the age. Ely once could
rival Bayeux; among the choicest treasures of Ely under her first
Bishop, a hundred and twenty years later, was the tapestry on which the
devotion of Æthelflæd had wrought the glorious deeds of the hero of
Maldon.[508]
At Maldon the invaders had gained a victory, but it was a victory which
showed what Englishmen could still do when they had men of the old stamp
to lead them. But the dastardly flight of the sons of Odda showed that
England also contained men of another temper. And unhappily the policy
of Æthelred was now guided by men of the stamp of Godric, not by men of
the stamp of Brihtnoth. The shameful payment of money, which the brave
old Ealdorman had so indignantly refused, was the only means of safety
which suggested itself to a King in the first vigour of youth and to his
chief counsellors in Church and State. [Sidenote: The Danes first bought
off. 991.] The year which beheld the fight of Maldon beheld also, for
the first time, the Lord of all Britain stoop to buy peace from a few
ship-crews of heathen pirates.[509] This was the beginning of that
senseless and fatal system of looking to gold to do the work of steel,
of trusting to barbarians who never kept their promises, and who of
course, as soon as they had spent one instalment of tribute, came back
again to seek for more. But this plain lesson was one which Æthelred and
his advisers seemed never able to learn. The spirit of the nation, which
under men like Brihtnoth was ready for vigorous resistance, was thus
[Sidenote: Advisers of the measure;] quenched, and its energy frittered
away. The evil counsellors who stand charged with the infamy of first
suggesting this unhappy measure were men of the highest rank in the
nation. The great Dunstan was dead; he was taken away from the evil to
come in the very year in which the invasions began again. After a
momentary occupation of [Sidenote: Sigeric, Archbishop of Canterbury,
[990–994];] the metropolitan throne by Æthelgar, Bishop of the
South-Saxons, who died the next year, the primacy fell to the lot of
Sigeric, Bishop of Wiltshire or Ramsbury. The first act of this prelate
was to drive out the secular priests from the metropolitan church, where
Dunstan himself had let them abide.[510] If Sigeric was at all versed in
the fitting lore of his office, the history of the Old Testament might
have supplied him with many precedents to show the fatal nature of his
policy. No Jewish King had ever gained anything by buying off the
Assyrian, and an English King was not likely to fare any better by
buying off the Dane. But Sigeric joined with the Ealdormen Æthelweard
and Ælfric in gaining the King’s leave to purchase peace for their own
districts at the hands of the invaders by the [Sidenote: Ealdorman
Æthelweard,] payment of ten thousand pounds.[511] Æthelweard, “Patricius
Consul Fabius Quæstor Æthelwerdus,”[512] was a man of royal descent, who
is memorable as our only lay historian of this age, but who would have
been more worthy of honour in his literary character, had he, like his
kinsman Ælfred, stooped to write in his native tongue, instead of
[Sidenote: and Ealdorman Ælfric.] clothing a most meagre record in most
inflated Latin. As for Ælfric, his identity and his actions form one of
the standing difficulties of this time. His doings, as favourite
[Sidenote: Peace purchased of the Northmen. 991.] and as traitor, are
spread over several years of the reign of Æthelred. Having bought a
respite for their own districts,[513] the Primate and the two Ealdormen
next persuaded the King and his Witan to buy a general peace for the
whole land.[514] The terms of the treaty show that, if the invaders were
not actually to settle in the land, they were at least not expected to
make a speedy departure. They engage to help King Æthelred against any
fleet which may come to invade England; neither party is to receive the
enemies of the other; and various provisions are made, which would be
quite out of place if the Northmen had been expected to sail away at
once. And the events of the next [Sidenote: Fleet assembled at London.
992.] year clearly show that they did not sail away, and they seem also
to imply that the peace was broken. For in that year Æthelred and his
Witan[515] gathered together a fleet at London, which was placed under
the command of two Bishops, Æscwig of Dorchester and Ælfric[516] of
Wiltshire, and of two lay chiefs, Thored the Earl, of whom we have
already heard, and who, according to one account, was the King’s
father-in-law,[517] and, unluckily for the enterprise, Ælfric the
Ealdorman. We have now reached the first of that long series of utterly
inexplicable treasons, which were, in a way no less utterly
inexplicable, always forgiven by those against whom they were wrought.
One can understand the wretched policy which buys off an enemy or the
sheer cowardice which flees from an enemy. Contemptible as both of them
are, neither of them implies any deliberate treachery or any positive
perversion of heart. But what human motive could induce an English
Ealdorman deliberately to betray his country to the heathen invaders?
Yet so to do now becomes the regular course on the part of the royal
favourites, a class who form a strange contrast to the brave men, chiefs
and people alike, whose patriotic efforts [Sidenote: Treason of Ælfric.]
were so often thwarted by them. Ælfric now first sent word to the
Northmen to beware lest they should be surrounded by the English fleet,
and then actually joined them [Sidenote: Naval victory of the English.
992.] with his own contingent. The English, among whom the East-Angles
and the citizens of London were the foremost, pursued and gave battle;
the Danes were defeated with great slaughter; the traitor’s ship was
taken with all [Sidenote: Ælfgar blinded. 993.] that was in it, but he
himself narrowly escaped. Æthelred took a base and cowardly revenge by
blinding Ælfric’s son Ælfgar, against whom there is nothing whatever to
show that he had any share in his father’s crime. Yet, strange to say,
within a few years Ælfric himself was again in favour, and again in a
position to command and to betray English armies.
[Sidenote: Military and commercial importance of London.]
The storm was thus turned away from London. The importance of that great
city was daily growing throughout these times. We cannot as yet call it
the capital of the kingdom; but its geographical position made it one of
the chief bulwarks of the land, and there was no part of the realm whose
people could outdo the patriotism and [Sidenote: Comparison with Paris.]
courage of its valiant citizens. London at this time fills much the same
place in England which Paris filled in Northern Gaul a century earlier.
The two cities, in their several lands, were the two great fortresses,
placed on the two great rivers of the country, the special objects of
attack on the part of the invaders and the special defence of the
country against them. Each was, as it were, marked out by great public
services to become the capital of the whole kingdom. But Paris became a
national capital only because its local Count grew into a national King;
London, amidst all changes within and without, has always kept more or
less of her ancient character as a free city. Paris was merely a
military bulwark, the dwelling-place of a ducal or a royal sovereign;
London, no less important as a military post, had also a greatness which
rested on a surer foundation. London, like a few other of our great
cities, is one of the ties which connect our Teutonic England with the
Celtic and Roman Britain of earlier times. Her British name still lives
on, unchanged by the Teutonic conquerors. Before we first hear of London
as an English city, she had cast away her Roman and Imperial title; she
was no longer Augusta;[518] she had again taken her ancient name, and
through all changes she clave to her ancient character. The commercial
fame of London dates from the early days of Roman dominion.[519] The
English Conquest may have caused an interruption for a while, but it was
only for a while. As early as the days of Æthelberht the commerce of
London was again renowned.[520] Ælfred had rescued the city from the
Dane; he had built a citadel for her defence,[521] the germ of that
Tower which was to be first the dwelling-place of Kings, and then the
scene of the martyrdom of their victims. Among the Laws of Æthelstan
none are more remarkable than those which deal with the internal affairs
of London and with the regulation [Sidenote: Commerce of London.] of her
earliest commercial corporations.[522] During the reign of Æthelred the
merchant city again became the object of special and favourable
legislation.[523] Her Institutes speak of a commerce spread over all the
lands that bordered on the Western Ocean. Flemings and Frenchmen, men of
Ponthieu, of Brabant, and of Lüttich, filled her markets with their
wares and enriched the civic coffers with their tolls. Thither too came
the men of Rouen, whose descendants were, at no distant day, to form no
[Sidenote: Privileges enjoyed by the “Men of the Emperor.”] small
element among her own citizens. And, worthy and favoured above all, came
the sea-faring men of the Old-Saxon brother-land, the pioneers of the
mighty Hansa of the North, which was in days to come to knit together
London and Novgorod in one bond of commerce, and to dictate laws and
distribute crowns among the nations by whom London was now threatened.
The demand for toll and tribute fell lightly on those whom English
legislation distinguished as the men of the Emperor.[524] The manifest
advantages of their trade, perhaps some feeling or memory of their
common blood and speech, gained privileges for them to which the Gaul
and the Norman had no claim, privileges which did not extend to the
kindred Fleming, vassal as he was of the Parisian King, or to the
Lorrainer, still a vassal of Cæsar, but already exposed to the contagion
of foreign influence and language. The chief seat of their enterprise
was indeed as yet not open to them, and the chief seat of their dominion
was as yet not in being. Queenly Lübeck had not yet begun to cover her
peninsula with her stately spires, her soaring gateways, the rich and
varied dwellings of her merchant-princes, and the proud pile of that
council-house which was to become the centre of the commerce and policy
of Northern Europe. The Baltic, one day to be an Hanseatic lake, was
still surrounded throughout its coasts by savage or piratical tribes to
whom all Christendom alike was hostile. But, if the Trave was not yet
reached, the Elbe and the Weser were already occupied. The fame of
Hamburg and of Bremen was as yet ecclesiastical rather than commercial;
still we may well believe that, among the continental brethren whom
London welcomed, there were some who had ventured forth from their
infant havens. And the Rhine at least was still open; the ancient Colony
of Agrippina was already a chief mart of Teutonic commerce; as early as
the days of Charles and Offa, commerce between England and the Empire
was a matter of special interest on both sides;[525] and now, in the
days of Æthelred, the men of the Emperor, alone among the natives of
foreign lands, were emphatically spoken of as “worthy of good laws, even
as we ourselves.”[526]
[Sidenote: Ravages in the North of England. 993.]
The great merchant city was thus saved, mainly, as we shall often find
it in these wars, by the valour of her own citizens. The Northmen,
baffled in their attack on London, turned their course northward; they
stormed King Ida’s fortress of Bamburgh, the earliest seat of
Northumbrian kingship; they then turned back to the mouth of the Humber,
and ravaged the country on both sides of that river. The men of Lindesey
and Deira were no less ready to defend their country than the men of
London and East-Anglia; but they had less worthy leaders. [Sidenote:
Treason of Fræna, Frithegist, and Godwine.] Just as the battle was
beginning, the English commanders set the example of flight. Their names
were Fræna, Frithegist, and Godwine, two of them at least old servants
of Eadgar, and it is distinctly implied that the cause of their
cowardice and treachery was that they were themselves of Danish descent,
and that they therefore sympathized with the invaders rather than with
those whom it was their duty to defend.[527]
[Sidenote: Affairs of Wales.]
Our narrative is thus far, on the whole, straightforward and
intelligible; but two difficult questions now present themselves. Were
these Scandinavian invasions accompanied by any efforts on the part of
the Celtic inhabitants of Britain to shake off the English supremacy?
Was Æthelred, while thus attacked by foreign invaders, himself engaged
in foreign disputes and wars, perhaps in [Sidenote: Border warfare with
the Welsh.] actual invasion of a foreign land? As far as the Welsh are
concerned, it would be alike impossible and unprofitable to try to trace
out every detail of the border warfare which was always going on along
the Mercian frontier. The English Chronicles scarcely ever condescend to
speak of the ups and downs of these endless skirmishes, while [Sidenote:
Scandinavian incursions in Wales.] the Welsh Chronicles are full of
them. They tell us of a good many incursions of the “Saxons,” but they
are far fuller of the ravages of the “Black Pagans,” who were probably
much oftener Northmen from Ireland and the Western Islands than actual
Danes from Denmark. And it is small honour to the Emperor of all Britain
that his plan of buying off the heathen ravagers had perhaps been
[Sidenote: 988.] forestalled by a vassal prince of Wales.[528] This
prince, Meredydd, son of Owen, seems to have spread his dominion over
the greater part of the modern principality,[529] and in the year of the
battle of Maldon we distinctly find him, not only at war with the
English, but in league with the Northmen. A prince of Gwent and
Morganwg,[530] [Sidenote: War with Meredydd. 991.] in company with an
English commander whose name appears to have been Æthelsige, ravaged the
kingdom of Meredydd as far as Saint David’s. In return for this,
Meredydd, with an army of heathen mercenaries,[531] ravaged Morganwg,
the dominion of the Welsh ally of England. One would be more anxious to
know what was the position of Scotland at this time. The reception of
Swegen by Kenneth, if it be historical, might seem to point to an
unfriendly feeling towards England; but we have no notices of Scottish
affairs till some years later.
[Sidenote: Æthelred’s relations with Normandy.]
A more important question still now presents itself. As far as we can
gather from most imperfect and contradictory accounts, it seems that it
was during these years that the first direct intercourse between England
and Normandy took place, and that that intercourse was [Sidenote:
Disputes arising from the shelter given in Normandy to Danish vessels.]
of an unfriendly, if not a directly hostile, kind.[532] The quarrel
seems to have arisen out of the hospitable reception which was given in
the Norman ports to the piratical fleets which were engaged in the
plunder of England. The old connexion with Denmark, the good services
which had been rendered by King Harold, were not forgotten in Normandy.
The kind reception thus due to the Danes in general may have extended
itself even to those who were in fact Harold’s rebellious subjects,
warring against the champion of the faith common to Normandy and
England. The Norman havens lay most conveniently open for the sale of
the plunder of Wessex; it is even possible that some of the inhabitants
of those parts of Normandy where the old Danish spirit still lingered
may have joined their heathen kinsmen in incursions on the opposite
coast.[533] Considering the chronology, it seems most [Sidenote: 988.]
likely that the invasion of Somerset which took place in the year of
Dunstan’s death was aided and abetted by Richard’s subjects in one or
other of these ways. A dispute thus arose between Æthelred and the Duke;
whether it led to open war is uncertain. At any rate it assumed
importance enough to call for the intervention of the [Sidenote:
Reconciliation brought about by Pope John the Fifteenth. 991.] common
father of Christendom. The reigning Pope, John the Fifteenth, stepped in
to reconcile two Christian princes who were weakening one another in the
presence of threatening, if not triumphant, heathendom. A prelate named
Leo, described as Bishop of Trier, was sent by the Pontiff to the court
of Æthelred on a message of peace. He thence went to Duke Richard at
Rouen, accompanied by an English embassy, consisting of Æthelsige,
Bishop of Sherborne, and two thegns named Leofstan and Æthelnoth, who
are not otherwise distinguished, but whose names are attached to many of
the charters of the time. Peace was concluded on the terms that neither
party should receive the enemies of the other, nor even each other’s
subjects, unless they were provided with passports from their own
sovereign.[534]
[Sidenote: Increasing connexion between England and Normandy]
There can be no doubt that in these transactions we may see the germs of
much that came to pass in later years. The first recorded intercourse
between the courts of Rouen and Winchester paved the way for that chain
[Sidenote: from this time.] of events which was at last to establish a
descendant of Richard in the royal city of Æthelred. Each country now
began to feel the importance of the other, whether as a friend or as an
enemy. As we go on in the reign of Æthelred, we shall find intercourse
of all kinds with Normandy growing more frequent at every step. And for
the first and the last time in the common history of the two countries,
the Roman Bishop appears in his fitting character of a common peacemaker
and father. The next Pontiff who mingles in a strife between a King of
the English and a Duke of the Normans shows himself in quite another
light.
§ 3. _From the first dispute with Normandy to the Massacre of Saint
Brice._ 991–1002.
[Sidenote: Great combined expedition of Olaf and Swegen. 994.]
We must now again come back to the consecutive narrative of the Danish
wars. In the year after the sack of Bamburgh and the ignominious flight
of the thegns of Lindesey, the invasions began again on a more terrible
scale. They were no longer the plundering expeditions of private
wikings, or of the sons of Kings spending their hot youth in this wild
warfare against their neighbours. They were no longer the expeditions of
adventurous chieftains seeking to better their fortunes by winning
themselves new homes at the point of the sword. The two mightiest powers
of the North were now joined together in a momentary league to compass
the utter subjugation of England. Instead of the sea-rovers of a few
years back, the invaders are now two powerful Kings with royal fleets
and armies at their disposal. Olaf, King of the Norwegians, and Swegen,
King of the Danes, joined their forces in a greater expedition than any
that Brihtnoth had ever met with steel or Æthelred with gold. The
pretext for war on the part of Olaf is not clear; Swegen gave out that
he came to revenge the inhospitable treatment which he had received from
the King of the English in the days of his adversity.[535] At the head
of a fleet of ninety-four [Sidenote: Attack on London defeated by the
citizens. 994.] ships, the two Kings of the North sailed up the Thames
and laid siege to London—the first, but not the last, siege which the
great city was to undergo in this fearful warfare. For the first, but
not for the last time, the valiant burghers, who had already learned to
grapple with the Dane on his own element, beat back the invaders from
their walls. The fire of twelve years back had doubtless been a mere
passing blow; it could have done little to lessen the strength of the
Roman rampart and of the tower of Ælfred. But it was not only to such
worldly bulwarks that the defenders of London trusted; on that day the
Mother of God, of her mild-heartedness, rescued the Christian city from
its foes.[536] An assault on the wall, coupled with an attempt to burn
the town, was defeated with great slaughter of the besiegers, and the
two Kings sailed away the same day in wrath and sorrow.[537] Here was
another triumph of English valour; but in this reign valour and counsel
were always local; cowardice and utter incapacity reigned at
head-quarters. Under Ælfred or Æthelstan, such a check as the invaders
had met with before London would have been followed up by some crushing
defeat, and the slain of Maldon would have been avenged in the glories
of another Brunanburh. Under the wretched Æthelred the very valour of
the Londoners only led to the more fearful desolation of other parts of
[Sidenote: Ravages in the South-East of England.] the kingdom. The enemy
were allowed to ravage the coast at pleasure; at last, meeting with no
resistance, they seized on horses, and rode through the eastern and
southern shires, pillaging, burning, murdering, without regard to age or
sex.[538] These horrors were carried on without interruption throughout
the whole range of Essex, Kent, and Sussex; at last the invaders crossed
the West-Saxon frontier, and by their presence in Hampshire threatened
the royal city and the royal person. London and Essex might have been
forgotten, but it was now clearly time to do something. But what was to
be done? Æthelred and his Witan could think of nothing but their
[Sidenote: Æthelred again buys peace.] old wretched expedient. The
invaders were again bought off; they were allowed to winter at
Southampton; a special tax was levied on Wessex to supply the crews with
food and pay, and a general tax was levied on all England to raise the
sum of sixteen thousand pounds as a payment to the two Kings.[539] For
once this policy, favoured [Sidenote: Embassy of Ælfheah and Æthelward
to Olaf.] by special circumstances, was partly successful. The union of
Denmark and Norway was broken, and one of the invading Kings was won
over to lasting peace and neutrality. Both the leaders of the heathen
fleet were baptized men. Swegen indeed, the godson of Cæsar, had denied
his faith, and had waged war against his own father on behalf of
heathendom. But the baptism of Olaf was more recent and more voluntary.
His later history sets him before us as a zealous Christian, who
evangelized his kingdom at the point of the sword, and who, in the name
of the religion of mercy, paid back upon the heathen all that Christian
confessors and martyrs had suffered at their hands. A faith which shows
itself in such works as these may indeed be far removed from the true
spirit of the Gospel; but such fiery zeal at least implies the firmest
belief in the dogmas which it is ready to force upon all men at all
hazards. We can then well understand that Olaf, already a Christian,
might easily be led to repent of the wrongs which he was dealing out on
a Christian land, whose sovereign and people had never wronged him. He
willingly listened to an English embassy which came to win him over more
completely to the side of his brethren in the faith. One of the
ambassadors sent was Ælfheah—the Alphege of hagiology—then the Bishop of
the diocese in which Olaf was wintering, but who was some years later to
ascend the metropolitan throne and to win the crown of martyrdom at the
hands of the still heathen Danes. His colleague was the literary
Ealdorman, Patricius Consul Fabius Quæstor Ethelwerdus, again more
vigorous in negotiation than in warfare. The Norwegian King exchanged
hostages with Æthelred; he was led “with mickle worship” to the court at
Andover; he was received with every honour and enriched with royal
gifts. [Sidenote: Olaf’s confirmation and adoption.] Already baptized,
he received the rite of confirmation[540] from Bishop Ælfheah, and was
adopted by Æthelred as [Sidenote: He departs for Norway. 995.] his son.
The royal neophyte promised never again to invade England; and, as soon
as summer appeared, he sailed away to his own country and faithfully
kept his [Sidenote: His later days and death. 1000.] promise. The later
days of this prince, who fills so large a space both in the history and
in the romance of his country, were spent in the forcible introduction
of Christianity into his own kingdom, and in a war with his momentary
ally of Denmark, in a sea-fight against whom he at last perished.
[Sidenote: Inaction of Swegen. 994–1003.]
One enemy was thus changed, if not into a friend, at least into a
neutral; and the other, perhaps weakened by the conversion of his ally,
seems to have remained comparatively inactive for several years. Of
Swegen himself we hear nothing in English history for nine years, and
when he did come again, he had a terrible reason for coming. The Danish
fleet however stayed on the English coast, but for a while we hear of no
further ravages. It would seem that the interval was partly employed in
attacks both on the vassals and on the continental kinsmen of England.
In the year of Olaf’s departure, Swegen is said to have ravaged the Isle
of Man,[541] and there is no doubt that these years were a time in which
both Danes and Swedes were busily employed in attacks on the land of the
continental Saxons.[542] In England this short respite was largely
devoted to the work of legislation, and to the carrying on of the
ordinary business of [Sidenote: Meetings of the Witenagemót. 995.]
government. Meetings of the Witan were frequent. More than one such took
place during the year of Olaf’s departure,[543] a year of some
importance in ecclesiastical history. [Sidenote: Ælfric elected
Archbishop by the Witan.] Archbishop Sigeric died, and the vacant office
was given, by the election of the Witan assembled at Amesbury in
Wiltshire,[544] to the Bishop of the diocese in which they were met,
Ælfric of Ramsbury, a prelate whose name is still remembered as the
author of various contributions to our early theological literature. In
the same year also one of [Sidenote: Bishopric of Lindisfarn. 635–883.]
the greatest and most famous of English bishoprics found its permanent
resting-place. The bishopric of Bernicia or Northern Northumberland, one
originally planted by Scottish missionaries, had its first seat in the
Holy Island of Lindisfarn, where, for a short time during the later part
of the seventh century, the lonely see was made illustrious by the
monastic virtues of its sixth Bishop [Sidenote: Saint Cuthberht.
685–687.] Saint Cuthberht.[545] He became the patron of the see, and his
body was looked on as its choicest possession. In the great Danish
invasion of the ninth century, the Bishop and his clerks fled from their
island, and carried the body of the saint hither and thither, till it
found a resting-place [Sidenote: The See removed to Chester-le-Street;
883;] at Cunegaceaster or Chester-le-Street.[546] Here the bishopric
remained for more than a century, till, in the year which we have now
reached, Ealdhun, the reigning prelate, removed [Sidenote: thence to
Durham, 995.] it once more to the site which his successors have kept
ever since. This translation was not exactly a forestalling of that
general removal of bishoprics from smaller to more considerable towns,
which we shall find carried out systematically soon after the Norman
Conquest. Ealdhun removed his see to a spot which he was the first to
make into a dwelling-place of men. As in after days the Wiltshire
bishopric was translated from the hill of the elder Salisbury to the
plain which has been covered by the younger, so, by an opposite process,
Ealdhun now moved his chair from Cunegaceaster to a site nobler than
that occupied by any other minster in England. The body of Saint
Cuthberht and the episcopal throne of his successors were placed by the
happy choice of Ealdhun on that height whence the abbey and castle of
Durham still look down upon the river winding at their feet. He found
the spot a wilderness;[547] but a town soon grew up around the church;
Cunegaceaster was before long outstripped by Durham, and we shall in a
few years see the new city acting as an important military post. And as
the city grew, its prelates grew [Sidenote: Greatness and temporal
authority of the See of Durham.] also. In process of time the successors
of Ealdhun came to surpass all their episcopal brethren in wealth and in
temporal authority. The prelate of Durham became one, and the more
important, of the only two English prelates whose worldly franchises
invested them with some faint shadow of the sovereign powers enjoyed by
the princely churchmen of the Empire. The Bishop of Ely in his island,
the Bishop of Durham in his hill-fortress, held powers which no other
English ecclesiastic was allowed to share. Aidan and Cuthberht had lived
almost a hermit’s life among their monks on their lonely island; their
successors grew into the lords of a palatinate, in which it was not the
peace of the King but the peace of the Bishop which the wrong-doer was,
in legal language, held to have broken. The outward look of the city at
once suggests its peculiar character. Durham alone among English cities,
with its highest point crowned, not only by the minster, but by the vast
castle of the Prince-Bishop, recalls to mind those cities of the Empire,
Lausanne or Chur or Sitten, where the priest who bore alike the sword
and the pastoral staff looked down from his fortified height on a flock
which he had to guard no less against worldly than against ghostly
foes.[548] Such a change could never have taken place if the see of
Saint Cuthberht had still lingered in its hermit-island; it could hardly
have taken place if his body had ended its wanderings on a spot less
clearly marked out by nature for dominion. The translation of the see to
Durham by Ealdhun is the turning-point in the history of that great
bishopric. And it is something more; it is worthy of notice in the
general history of England as laying the foundation of a state of things
which in England remained exceptional, but which, had it gained a wider
field, would have made a lasting change in the condition of the country.
The spiritual Palatine of Durham and the temporal Palatine of Chester
stood alone in the possession of their extraordinary franchises. The
unity of the kingdom was therefore not seriously endangered by the
existence of these isolated principalities, especially as the temporal
palatinate so early became an apanage of the heir to the Crown. But had
all bishoprics possessed the same rights as Durham, had all earldoms
possessed the same rights as Chester, England could never have remained
an united monarchy. It must have fallen in pieces in exactly the same
way in which the Empire did, and from essentially the same cause.
[Sidenote: Witenagemót at Cealchyth, [996]; at Calne and Wantage.]
Another meeting of the Witan was held the next year at Cealchyth,[549]
and a more important one the year after at Calne, which after a few days
transferred its sittings to Wantage.[550] Here, besides the usual
business of confirming the King’s grants of lands or privileges to
churches or to [Sidenote: [997].] private men, a code of laws was drawn
up. At an earlier Gemót, held at Woodstock in an uncertain year, a code
had been published,[551] designed mainly for the purely English parts of
the kingdom; the labours of the Witan at Wantage, remarkable as it seems
in a spot so purely Saxon, seem to have had a special reference to the
country which had been occupied by the Danes.[552] These laws, like so
many other of our ancient codes, are chiefly devoted to the
administration of justice and to the preservation of the peace. Neither
in them nor in the earlier laws of Woodstock can we discern any distinct
allusion to the special circumstances [Sidenote: Renewed ravages of the
Danes, 997–998.] of the times. But in the very year of the Gemót of
Wantage the Danish ravages began again. For two years they were confined
to the coasts of Wessex and its immediate dependencies. In the first
year the invaders set out, seemingly from their old quarters near
Southampton, they doubled the Land’s End and ravaged Cornwall,
Devonshire, Somerset, and South Wales,[553] plundering, burning, and
slaying everywhere, and, what is specially noticed, burning the
monastery at Tavistock. The next year they cruelly ravaged Dorset and
Wight, and at last took up their quarters in that island, whence they
wrung [Sidenote: Witenagemót of London. 998.] contributions from
Hampshire and Sussex. During this last year a Gemót was held at
London.[554] Whether any measures were taken to resist the Danes does
not appear; but it seems that Wulfsige, Bishop of the Dorsætas, took
measures to substitute monks for canons in his cathedral church at
Sherborne,[555] and the King restored to the church [Sidenote: Ravages
of the Danes in Kent. 999.] of Rochester the lands of which he had
robbed it in his youth.[556] The gift, however valuable to the
bishopric, did little towards protecting the citizens of Rochester. The
next year the Danes sailed up the Thames and the Medway, and besieged
the town. The men of Kent went forth to battle, but they were defeated
after a hard struggle, and the Danes horsed themselves and ravaged the
whole western [Sidenote: The Witenagemót collects a fleet and army.]
part of the shire. The Wise Men then met again, this time to devise
means for carrying on the war. They voted, and actually got together, a
fleet and army; but nothing came of it. Both in this year and in the
former year everything went wrong. Armies were often gathered together;
but time was wasted in all manner of delays, and meanwhile the soldiers
who were assembled did nearly as much damage as the enemy. If things
ever got on so far that they met the enemy in battle, either ill luck or
treachery always [Sidenote: Their inefficiency, and general misery of
the country.] gave the victory to the heathen. And when the ships were
gathered together, there was only delay from day to day; the crews were
harassed grievously; when things should have been forward, they were
only the more backward; they let the enemy’s army ever increase; and
ever they went away from the sea, and the enemy followed them; and in
the end there was nothing for either the land-force or the sea-force,
but grieving of the folk and spending of money and emboldening of their
foes.[557]
[Sidenote: Causes of the inefficient resistance to the Danes.]
Such is the picture of the times which is given us by our best
authorities. And it is clear that, to bring about such a state of
things, there must have been causes which lay deeper than the mere
incapacity or carelessness of Æthelred or than the treachery of a few
chiefs of Danish descent.[558] On the other hand, it is perfectly clear
that there was no lack of zeal or courage on the part of the people in
any part of the country where the invaders landed. This is shown by the
valiant resistance which the invaders always met with whenever local
power was in worthy hands. It is not unlikely that the forms of the
English constitution of that day were partly in fault. The power of
resistance was perhaps weakened by the very amount of freedom, general
and local, which the English already enjoyed; it was certainly weakened
by the still very imperfect nature of the union which existed between
the different parts of [Sidenote: General question of the action of
constitutional states.] the kingdom. We have in our own times often
heard the complaint that a free government is less able than a despotism
to carry on a war with vigour. This charge is refuted, if by nothing
else, by the result of the great civil [Sidenote: 1861–5.] war in
America. But the experiences of that civil war, and many experiences of
our own, combine to show that a free country has greater difficulty than
a despotism in the mere setting about of a war. No free state could
expect to rival the readiness, vigour, and daring with [Sidenote: 1866.]
which Prussia opened the wonderful campaign which made her the head of
Germany. The very institutions which secure national, local, and
personal freedom, sometimes form a temporary, though most certainly only
a temporary, hindrance, especially in the case of civil war or of sudden
invasion. The old free institutions of England threw difficulties in the
way of national resistance, difficulties which the genius of Ælfred, his
son, or his grandson, would have overcome, but which were utterly
overwhelming to Æthelred [Sidenote: Imperfect union of the parts of the
kingdom.] and his advisers. Most likely too, while the kingdom was still
so imperfectly united, one part of the country did not greatly care for
the misfortunes of another. The devastation of Kent and Wessex would not
cause any very deep sorrow or alarm to the Danish people of
Northumberland. Local resistance was always possible. A valiant
Ealdorman might, with comparative ease, get together his own personal
following and the able-bodied men of his shire. But even this process
took time. While the English were arming, the Danes were plundering; and
when a battle took place, the Danish force, which a general national
movement would have crushed at once, commonly proved [Sidenote:
Difficulties caused by English constitutional forms.] too strong for the
array of any one district. A general national resistance was of course
still more necessarily a work of time. The King had no standing army; he
could at all times demand the services of his personal following, but
even they could not be assembled in a moment; and no real national step
could be taken, no national army or fleet could be brought together, no
money could be gathered or expended, without the consent of the Witan.
And when the Witan met, we can well understand that personal jealousies
and still more local jealousies, to say nothing of the causes which
always affect all assemblies, would often hinder, or at least delay, the
adoption of any vigorous resolution. And when the Witan had passed their
vote, they had to go back to their shires and hundreds to announce the
determinations of the national council,[559] and to gather together the
forces of their several districts. One shire would be ready perhaps
months before another, while all the while there was the most pressing
need for immediate action. Such an army would become dispirited and
demoralized before it had really come together. The difficulty of
subsistence too, when it was not likely that regular pay could be given,
would often drive the defenders of the country to become almost as
destructive as its invaders. [Sidenote: Effect of the personal character
of the King.] Even when there was no actual treason or cowardice, all
these things would be difficulties in the way of the greatest of
princes; under such a prince as Æthelred they were found to be simply
unsurmountable. Ælfred had carried England through dangers as great as
those which threatened her now; but it needed an Ælfred to do such a
work. Under Æthelred nothing was done; or, more truly, throughout his
whole reign he left undone those things which he ought to have done, and
he did those things which he ought not to have done.
[Sidenote: Character of Æthelred; vigorous always in the wrong place.]
For the fault of Æthelred, after all, was not mere weakness.[560] The
Unready King showed occasional glimpses of vigour which might for a
moment remind men that he came of the same stock as Eadward the
Unconquered and as Æthelstan the Glorious. But it was a vigour which
came only by fits and starts, and which acted only at unfitting times
and for unfitting objects. As far as we can judge by his actions, the
character of Æthelred was not one of mere abject incapacity like Edward
of Caernarvon. He was rather like Richard of Bourdeaux, idle, careless,
governed by worthless favourites, but showing ever and anon, though
always in the wrong place, signs of a strong will and a capacity for
vigorous action. So now it was at this memorable crisis of his kingdom.
He had at last got together a fleet and an army, and, having got them
[Sidenote: The Danes sail to Normandy. 1000.] together, he would do
something with them. But the Danes were gone; they had got together
their plunder, and had sailed away, as before, to sell it in the Norman
havens.[561] Æthelred took advantage of their absence to plunge into a
needless war with one of his own vassals. [Sidenote: Æthelred ravages
Cumberland in person, and his fleet ravages Man. 1000.] It does not seem
that, up to this time, he had ever once thought of going forth in person
to battle against the Danes; but the Emperor of Britain could trust no
one but himself to lead an army against the Under-king of Cumberland. He
ravaged nearly the whole of the principality by land, and he would have
ravaged it by sea also, only the fleet which set out from Chester was
hindered by contrary winds from meeting him at the appointed spot.[562]
It did however reach Man, and harried the island. The cause of all this
untimely activity is not stated by our best English authorities. Man
especially, which had been harried by Swegen only a few years
before,[563] must have been singularly unlucky if it contrived thus to
provoke the wrath of both the contending Kings. Nor is it at all clear
why Malcolm was attacked in his under-kingdom of [Sidenote: Malcolm’s
refusal to pay Danegeld.] Cumberland. A Scottish writer tells us that
Æthelred had called on Malcolm to contribute to some of the payments
made to the Danes, probably to the great sum paid to Olaf and Swegen six
years before. In short he wished to make the dependent kingdom of
Cumberland liable, like an English shire, to the impost of Danegeld.
Malcolm, we are told, answered with proper spirit. If King Æthelred went
forth to battle, he was ready, as in duty bound, to follow his over-lord
with his own forces; but he had never covenanted to pay money, and no
money would he pay. The authority for this story is not of the first
order; but it falls in so exactly with the relations between the two
princes that it has strong internal likelihood in its favour. Malcolm
was not an English Ealdorman, ruling an integral part of the English
realm; he was a vassal prince reigning over a dependent kingdom, a
kingdom which formed a part of the English Empire, but which had never
been under the direct rule of the English crown. That kingdom Malcolm
held on the terms on which it had been originally granted to his
predecessor, those of military service by land and sea.[564] A money
tribute had indeed been levied on some of the Welsh princes; but
military service was clearly the only contribution which a King of
Cumberland owed to the Emperor of Britain. But Æthelred was enraged at
his refusal, which, he alleged, could proceed from nothing but good will
to the enemy. He accordingly ravaged the country, but afterwards
concluded peace with Malcolm. If this story be true, Malcolm was fully
justified in his refusal, and the conduct of Æthelred was a gross breach
of the mutual duty of lord and vassal.
[Sidenote: Second quarrel with Normandy, 1000.]
It is also likely that this untimely activity on the part of Æthelred
led him also to match himself against an enemy of a very different kind
from the vassal King of Cumberland. As far as probable conjecture can
guide us through mazes where difficulties and contradictions meet us at
every step, it was during this burst of misapplied energy that Æthelred
became again involved in a dispute, most likely in an open war, with the
Duke of the Normans.[565] [Sidenote: [996.]] Richard the Fearless, his
former antagonist, was now dead, and the reigning prince was his son
Richard the Second, surnamed the Good. Of the dealings between the two
countries we have no account from any English authority, and the version
which we find in the Norman writers, though doubtless containing some
germs [Sidenote: Æthelred’s invasion of Normandy, as described by Norman
writers.] of truth, is evidently exaggerated in detail. According to
them Æthelred sent a fleet into Normandy, with orders to burn and
destroy throughout the land, and to spare nothing except the Mount of
Saint Michael with its revered sanctuary. As for the reigning Duke, he
was to be taken prisoner, and to be brought into the presence of his
conqueror with his hands tied behind his back. The English fleet crossed
the Channel, and its crews landed in the peninsula of Coutances and
began to carry out the [Sidenote: Defeat of the English.] royal orders.
But Neal, the valiant Viscount of the district, gathered the men of the
country, and smote the invaders with such a slaughter that of those who
actually landed one man only escaped to the ships. The fleet sailed home
with the news of its discomfiture. Æthelred is pictured as waiting for
the triumphant return of his fleet with the news of the conquest of
Normandy. His first inquiry is for the captive Duke. But instead of
seeing Richard with his hands tied behind him, he only hears that his
men have not so much as seen the Duke, that the men of one county had
been enough to destroy all their host, that the very women had joined in
the strife, striking down the choicest warriors of England with the
staves on which they bore their waterpots. These details are of course
pure romance; but the existence of such a story seems to show that some
hostilities really did take place. Æthelred’s fleet may have pursued the
Danish fleet when it sailed to Normandy, and in so doing it may in
[Sidenote: Probable explanation of the story.] some way have violated
the neutrality of the Norman coast. Or Æthelred, in his present fit of
energy, may have been so indignant at the reception of the Danes in the
Norman havens as to send out an expedition by way of reprisal. But the
grotesque pride and folly implied in the Norman story is incredible even
in Æthelred. The details are valuable only as showing the kind of tales
which, as we shall see more fully as we go on, the Norman writers
thought good to pass off as the English history of the time.
[Sidenote: Marriage of Æthelred and Emma; its evil results.]
Whatever was the exact nature of the mutual wrongs now done to each
other by Normans and Englishmen, the quarrel did not last long. Æthelred
seems now to have been a widower;[566] the peace between the two
countries was therefore confirmed by a marriage between him and the
Duke’s sister Emma, one of the legitimated children of Richard the
Fearless and Gunnor.[567] Her beauty and accomplishments are highly
extolled, but her long connexion [Sidenote: 1002–1051.] with England, as
the wife of two Kings and the mother of two others, brought with it
nothing but present evil, and led to the future overthrow of the English
kingdom [Sidenote: The marriage of Emma opened the way for the Norman
Conquest.] and nation. The marriage of Æthelred and Emma led directly to
the Norman Conquest of England.[568] With that marriage began the
settlement of Normans in England, their admission to English offices and
estates, their general influence in English affairs, everything, in
short, that paved the way for the actual Conquest. Through Emma came
that fatal kindred and friendship between her English son and her Norman
great-nephew, which suggested and rendered possible the enterprise which
seated her great-nephew on the throne of England. From the moment of
this marriage, English and Norman history are inextricably connected,
and Norman ingenuity was ever ready to take any advantage that offered
itself for strengthening the foreign influence in England. The former
dispute between Æthelred and the elder Richard was a mere prologue; we
have now reached the first act of the drama. If an English fleet really
did sail to Normandy and ravage the Constantine peninsula, those ships
were like the ships which Athens sent across the Ægæan at the bidding of
Aristagoras—they were indeed the beginning of evils.[569]
[Sidenote: Emma comes to England. 1002.]
The marriage however did not take place for two years. According to one
story Æthelred went over to Normandy to bring home his bride in
person.[570] The evidence is distinctly the other way; but to go on such
an errand, when the miseries of war were at their height, was perhaps in
character with a prince so apt to be enterprising at the wrong moment. A
like piece of vigorous courtship is the one act of energy recorded of
one of Æthelred’s descendants, [Sidenote: 1589] James, Sixth of Scotland
and First of England. If Æthelred really did go over to Normandy, he was
the first English King, since Ælfred in his childhood, who set foot on
the continent, as his son Eadmund was the last English King for several
centuries who did not.[571] And [Sidenote: A foreign Lady most unusual
in England.] for an English King to espouse a foreign wife was something
yet more strange to Englishmen than for an English King to visit foreign
lands. The marriage of the daughters of English Kings with foreign
princes had been common from the days of Ælfred onwards; but a foreign
Lady by the side of an English King had not been seen [Sidenote: 855.]
since Æthelwulf brought home the young daughter of Charles the
Bald.[572] And the marriage of Æthelwulf and Judith was most likely the
first instance since the Frankish [Sidenote: 561–597.] princess whom
Augustine found as the queen of the Kentish Bretwalda.[573] And the
stranger wives alike of Æthelberht and of Æthelred came as the
forerunners of mighty changes. The foreign marriage of Æthelberht paved
the way for the admission of the Teutonic and heathen island into the
common fold of the Christian commonwealth. The foreign marriage of
Æthelred paved the way for the more thorough fusion of England into the
general European system, by giving her a foreign King, a foreign
nobility, and, for many purposes, a foreign [Sidenote: Emma changes her
name to Ælfgifu.] tongue. It shows the strong insular feeling of the
nation, and it curiously illustrates the history of English personal
nomenclature, that the foreign Lady had to take an English name. The
English stock of personal names, though made out of the same elements as
the names used by other Teutonic nations, contained but few which were
common to England and to the continent.[574] This Old-English
nomenclature, with the exception of a few specially royal and saintly
names, has gone so utterly out of use that it sounds strange to us to
read that the Lady, to make herself acceptable to the English people,
had to lay aside the foreign name of Emma, and to make herself into an
Englishwoman as Ælfgifu.[575] So, by the opposite process, [Sidenote:
1100.] a hundred years later, when an English Eadgyth married a Norman
King, she had to change herself into a Norman Matilda. And it is well to
mark that the royal bride, like other Teutonic brides, had her
morning-gift, a gift which took the form of cities and governments, and
a gift which brought no good to England.[576] And according to some
accounts, the marriage brought with it as little of domestic happiness
as of public advantage. Emma bore to [Sidenote: Her children. Ælfred.
1036.] Æthelred two sons, Ælfred, who perished miserably in an attempt
on the English crown, and Eadward, who lived to be at once King and
saint, and to be, perhaps through his own grovelling superstition, the
last male descendant of Cerdic and Ecgberht by whom that crown was
actually worn.[577] But we are told that the royal parents did not
agree. We can well believe that Emma showed the imperious spirit of her
race, and scandal adds that Æthelred forsook her for rivals, no doubt of
his own nation.[578] Of the truth of these reports nothing can be said,
and the public crimes and misfortunes of Æthelred are so great as to
leave little time or inclination to search into his possible private
vices.
I have spoken of the marriage of Emma slightly out of place, in order to
bring it into its natural connexion with other Norman affairs. We must
now go back two [Sidenote: 1000.] years. The dealings of Æthelred with
Normandy and Cumberland fell in the last year of the first millennium of
the Christian æra. It was no uncommon belief at the [Sidenote: Expected
end of the world.] time that the end of that period of a thousand years
was the fated moment for the destruction of the world. And certainly at
no time were the promised signs of wars and rumours of wars, of distress
of nations and perplexity, more rife throughout the world than when the
second millennium [Sidenote: Condition of Europe and Asia.] opened. In
the East of Europe, Basil the Second, the mightiest name in the long
roll of the Byzantine Cæsars, was engaged in his fearful struggle for
life and death with the Bulgarian invader. In the further East, the
Turkish dynasty of Ghazni was laying the foundations of that power
which, in the hands of other dynasties of the same race, was to
overwhelm alike Constantinople and Bulgaria and all other realms from
the Indus to the Hadriatic. In Southern Europe, Otto the Wonder of the
World was running that short and marvellous career which, for a moment,
seemed to promise that Rome should again become, in deed as well as in
name, the seat of universal Empire. The prospects of England seemed
darker than those of any other corner of Europe. In the East and in the
South, if old systems were falling, new ones were rising, but our island
seemed given up to simple desolation and havoc. It would appear that,
though the mass of the Danish fleet had sailed to Normandy, some of the
ships must have stayed in their old quarters in the [Sidenote: Danes in
the English Service; Pallig.] Solent. Some at least among the Danes had
taken service under the English King. Such was the case with Pallig, a
Danish Earl, evidently of the highest distinction, as he was married to
Gunhild, a sister of King Swegen himself.[579] His wife, and probably
himself, had embraced Christianity, and he had received large gifts from
the King, both in [Sidenote: Invasion of Sussex and Hampshire. 1001.]
money and in land. The Danes who had stayed in England now burst into
Sussex, and ravaged as far as a place called Æthelingadene.[580] They
then pressed on into Hampshire, and, as so often happened, they were met
by the men of the shire, and by the men of that shire only. The details
of the battle are unusually minute; eighty-one of the English were
killed and a much greater number of the Danes; but the Danes kept
possession of the place of slaughter. Among the English dead were
several men of rank,[581] among them two “high-reeves” of the
King—probably the Sheriffs of Hampshire and Sussex—Æthelweard and
Leofwine.[582] The Danes then went westward, seemingly in concert with
the fleet which was coming back [Sidenote: Treason of Pallig.] from
Normandy. But they were first met by Pallig, who had already forsaken
the service of Æthelred, and who now joined them with such ships as he
could bring with him. They sailed up the Teign, and burned King’s
Teignton[583] and other places. After this, peace—no doubt the usual
kind of peace—was made with them. But by this [Sidenote: Return of the
Danes from Normandy.] time they had fallen in with their comrades. The
Danes who had sailed to Normandy now came back, no doubt still further
embittered at Æthelred’s doings in that country, whatever may have been
their exact nature. Their fleet seems to have sailed straight from
Normandy to the mouth of the Exe; they were there met by the other
Danes, Pallig and the rest, and their united forces sailed [Sidenote:
Importance of Exeter; early history of the city.] up the river.[584]
About ten miles from its mouth lay a city[585] which held nearly the
same position in the West of England which York held in the North and
London in the South-east. The Roman city of Isca had not fallen into the
power of the Teutonic invaders till after their conversion to
Christianity; it therefore had not shared the fate which befell Anderida
at the hands of Ælle and Uriconium at the hands of Ceawlin. Under the
slightly changed name of Exanceaster or Exeter, the capital and bulwark
of the Western shires had long formed one of the choicest possessions of
the West-Saxon Kings. The city [Sidenote: 877.] had been warmly striven
for between Ælfred and his Danish enemies, and, among the ups and downs
of his earlier struggle with the invaders, it had been more than
[Sidenote: Exeter, hitherto half Welsh, becomes purely English under
Æthelstan, and is strongly fortified. 926.] once taken and lost again.
Up to the time of Æthelstan Exeter had remained, as many towns in Wales
and Ireland remained for ages afterwards, a joint possession of Teutonic
and Celtic inhabitants.[586] No doubt there was an English and a Welsh
town, an Englishry and a Welshry,[587] and we may be equally sure that
the English inhabitants formed a dominant class or patriciate among
their fellow-burghers. But Æthelstan, in the course of his Western wars,
thought it good that so important a post should be left in no hands but
such as he could wholly rely on. The Welsh inhabitants were accordingly
removed; the city became altogether English; a [Sidenote: Witenagemót
and Laws of Exeter.] solemn assembly of the Witan was held to
commemorate and to confirm the new acquisition, and one series of the
laws of Æthelstan were put forth in the now purely English city of
Exeter.[588] The town was now strongly fortified; it was surrounded with
a wall of squared stones,[589] a fact worthy of the attention of those
who seem to think that our forefathers before the Norman Conquest were
incapable of using the commonest tools, or of putting stone and mortar
together in any way. The chief architectural ornament of the city had
indeed no existence. [Sidenote: Exeter not yet a Bishop’s See.] The
cathedral church, so strange in its outline, so commanding in its
position, did not yet crown the height which, alone among the episcopal
seats of Southern England, makes some pretensions to rival the temples
built on high at Lincoln and at Durham, at Geneva and at Lausanne.
Indeed, like Lincoln and Durham, it had not even a predecessor. Exeter
was not yet a Bishop’s see; the episcopal care of West-Wales was still
divided between the Bishop of Devonshire at Crediton and the [Sidenote:
Municipal condition of the city.] Bishop of Cornwall at Bodmin. The
history of the city at a somewhat later time seems to show that it
enjoyed a large share of municipal freedom; still, as an integral part
of the West-Saxon realm, it was a royal possession, and the royal
authority was represented [Sidenote: Its commercial and military
importance.] by a reeve of the King’s choice. Both the commercial and
the military importance of the city were of the first rank. In our days
the trade of Exeter has long been of small moment; commerce has long
been carried on in vessels which need a deeper stream; as early as the
thirteenth century the trade of the city itself began to be interfered
with by the foundation of the port of Topsham nearer the mouth of the
river. But the small craft of the tenth century could sail straight up
to the city for [Sidenote: The Danes attack the city, but are driven off
by the citizens.] purposes either of commerce or of war. The Danes now
attacked Exeter, just as they had attacked London; but the citizens of
the Western capital fought with as good a will, and with as thorough
success, as their brethren of the East.[590] King Æthelstan’s wall stood
them in good stead,[591] and the attack of the barbarians was altogether
fruitless. But the result of the resistance of Exeter was much the same
as the result of the resistance of London. The city was saved, but, for
that very reason,[592] the ravages of the invaders fell with redoubled
violence upon the surrounding country. Æthelred was as unready as ever;
the host which had been prompt to ravage Cumberland and perhaps
[Sidenote: Devonshire ravaged and the Defnsætas and Sumorsætas defeated
at Pinhoe.] Normandy, was not at hand to aid any local efforts. The
Danes spread themselves over the country, harrying, burning, killing, in
their accustomed manner. The men of Somerset and Devonshire gathered
their forces, and met the enemy at Pinhoe,[593] not far from the rescued
city. But the force of two shires was not enough for the purpose. The
Danes had the advantage of numbers,[594] and put the irregular English
levies to flight. They then, as usual, took to themselves horses, and
ravaged the country still more thoroughly and unsparingly than before.
At last they went back to their ships with a vast booty, and sailed to
their old quarters in the Isle of Wight. Thence they carried on their
usual harryings, both in the island and on the coasts of Hampshire and
Dorset, no man now daring to withstand them.
[Sidenote: Witenagemót of 1001.]
The Witan met in the course of this year in an assembly which confirmed
a grant of the King to the abbey of Shaftesbury, a grant which is
remarkable on two grounds. It distinctly sets forth the wretchedness of
the times in a way rather unusual in such documents, and it shows that
the King’s brother Eadward was already looked on as [Sidenote: First
Gemót of 1002.] a saint.[595] Another meeting was held early the next
year, [Sidenote: Charters granted at it.] in which the King granted to
Archbishop Ælfric the estate of a lady which she had forfeited to the
crown by her unchastity.[596] Possibly at the same meeting, or at
another in the same year, Æthelingadene, the scene of one of the late
battles, along with some other property, was granted by Æthelred to the
monastery of Wherwell, his mother’s foundation, for the good of her soul
and of that of his father.[597] It may be that in all this we hear the
voice of his brother’s blood crying from the ground.[598] But the state
of the nation was not altogether neglected; still the Assembly of the
Wise could think of nothing better than the old wretched remedy which
had so often [Sidenote: Payment again made to the Danes.] failed them.
The Danes were again to be bought off at their own terms, and Leofsige
Ealdorman of the East-Saxons was sent to find out what those terms
were.[599] They now, fairly enough, raised their price; twenty-four
thousand pounds was asked and was paid as the condition of their ceasing
from their ravages. But, while the negotiation was going on, the
negotiator, on what ground or in what quarrel we are not told, killed
the King’s high-reeve Æfic in his own house.[600] The Witan were still
in session; [Sidenote: Leofsige outlawed.] they took cognizance of the
murder, and Leofsige was outlawed and driven out of the land for his
crime.[601] All this [Sidenote: Emma comes over.] must have happened
early in the year, as it was after these events, though still in
Lent,[602] that the Norman Lady came [Sidenote: Second or Third Gemót of
1002.] over. Before the year was out, another Witenagemót was held,[603]
at which Æthelred and his counsellors contrived to do what otherwise
might have seemed impossible, to [Sidenote: Massacre of the Danes.
November 13, 1002.] put the heathen invaders in the right. This winter,
on the mass-day of Saint Brice, took place that famous massacre of the
Danes which has given a wide field for the exaggerated and romantic
details of later writers, but which stands out in bloody colours enough
on the page [Sidenote: Plot of the Danes to kill the King and his
Witan.] of authentic history.[604] According to our best authorities,
tidings were brought to the King that the Danes who were in England were
plotting with one consent to kill him and his Witan and to seize upon
the kingdom. Except that other means of destruction must have been
intended, this sounds very like a forestalling of the Gunpowder Plot.
The Danes were indeed thoroughly faithless, but an intended general
massacre of the whole Witenagemót when in full session, which the words
seem to imply, is hardly credible. Another attack on London or Exeter,
or a harrying of some district which was as yet untouched, would be much
more likely. One cannot help suspecting that we have here a good deal of
exaggeration, exaggeration, I mean, not in the Chroniclers but in the
reports spread abroad at the time by Æthelred and his advisers. However
this may be, the King, no doubt with the consent of the second (or
third) Gemót of the year, ordered a general massacre of all the Danes in
England, an order which could never have been carried into execution if
it had not been supported by the general hatred of the whole nation. It
is said that letters were secretly sent to all parts of the kingdom,
ordering the bloody work to be done [Sidenote: Probable extent of the
massacre.] throughout the whole land on one day. The persons slain were
most likely such among those Danes who had served in the late invasions
as had stayed in England on the faith of the treaty concluded in the
spring. A general massacre of all persons of Danish descent throughout
England is not to be thought of; such a massacre would have amounted to
the slaughter of a large part of the inhabitants of Northumberland and
East-Anglia. There is nothing in the earliest account to imply that any
but men were slaughtered, and, among the Danes, every man was a soldier,
or rather a pirate. That such men were not slaughtered without
resistance is not wonderful. One instance is incidentally recorded, how
such Danes as were at Oxford, flying from their English destroyers,
sought shelter in the minster of Saint Frithswyth, and how they defended
themselves against all the people of the borough, until their assailants
betook themselves to fire and burned the Danes along with the church and
its records. This one piece of detail seems to be trustworthy;[605] but
the tale began very early to get improved by all kinds of romantic
additions. The slaughter of actual enemies was not enough. We first hear
of a massacre of Danish women; then, among an infinite variety of
horrors of all sorts, we come to a massacre of English women who had
become wives or mistresses of Danes, and of the children who were the
fruit of such unions. It is not likely that there were many Danish women
to massacre, and the notion of a general massacre of women most
[Sidenote: Murder of Gunhild.] likely arose out of one particular case.
That Gunhild, the wife of Pallig and sister of Swegen, was put to death
is too probable, especially if it be true that she had given herself as
a hostage for the good faith of her countrymen. The prince who blinded
the son of Ælfric to avenge his father’s treason,[606] and who
afterwards took the father himself again into favour, was capable even
of so cowardly and foolish a vengeance as this. The traitor Pallig, if
he was caught, would doubtless be put to death, and that with perfect
justice, unless he was personally included in the last treaty. And it
may be that Gunhild had to behold the slaughter of her husband and her
son, and that with her dying voice she foretold the woes which her death
would bring upon England. Such a prediction needed no special prophetic
inspiration.
§ 4. _From the Massacre of Saint Brice to Swegen’s Conquest of England._
1002–1013.
[Sidenote: Results of the massacre.]
The vespers of Saint Brice were not only a crime but a blunder. From
this time forth the Danish invasions become far more constant, far more
systematic, and they [Sidenote: Invasion by Swegen in person. 1003.]
affect a far larger portion of the kingdom. The next year King Swegen
came again in person.[607] He now had a real injury; the blood of his
sister and his countrymen might have called for vengeance at the hands
of a gentler and more forgiving prince. He did not land in any of those
parts of the island where we should have most naturally looked for the
opening of a campaign; he began his attack in the region which had been
the chief seat of warfare for years before. Most likely he knew well
where the [Sidenote: Exeter betrayed to Swegen by Hugh the Frenchman.]
weakness of England lay. The Danish King sailed to Exeter, the city
whose burghers had so gallantly repelled the former attack. But the
state of things within the walls of the western capital was now sadly
changed for the worse. The royal rights over Exeter had been granted to
the Norman Lady as part of her morning-gift. Hugh, a Frenchman, whether
earl or churl[608] matters not, was now the royal reeve in Exeter, the
first of a long line of foreigners who, under Emma, her son, and her
great-nephew, were to fatten on English estates and honours. Hugh was
either a coward or a traitor, most likely both. Exeter was stormed and
plundered; the noble walls of King Æthelstan were broken down from the
east gate to the [Sidenote: Swegen ravages Wiltshire.] west, and the
city was left defenceless.[609] Swegen returned to his ships with a vast
plunder, and then went on to the [Sidenote: A battle hindered by Ælfric,
again in command of the English.] harrying of Wiltshire. The men of that
shire and their neighbours of Hampshire were gathered together, ready
and eager to meet the enemy in battle. The people were as sound at heart
as they had been three years before, but they had no longer the same
valiant leaders. The battle of Æthelingadene seems to have fallen with
special severity on the chief men, and we now find the force of these
two shires in the last hands in which we should have looked to find
them. The old traitor Ælfric,[610] who had done his best, eleven years
before,[611] to betray London to the enemy, who had himself been driven
from the land, and whose innocent son had paid a cruel penalty for his
offence, was now, through some unrecorded and inexplicable intrigue,
again in royal favour, again in command of an English army, again
trusted to oppose the very enemy with whom he had before traitorously
leagued himself. But, as our Chronicles tell us with a vigorous
simplicity, he was again at his old tricks; as soon as the armies were
so near that they could look on one another, the English commander
pretended to be taken suddenly ill;[612] retchings and spittings
followed as a proof of his sickness; in such a case a battle could not
possibly be thought of. One wonders that some brave man, however
unauthorized, did not seize the command by common consent;[613] but the
paltry trick was successful; the spirits of the English were broken, and
they went away in [Sidenote: Fluctuation of spirits among
non-professional soldiers.] sadness without a battle.[614] In all this
history, just as in old Greek history,[615] we are often surprised at
the mere accidents on which the fate of battles depends, how much one
man’s valour or cowardice or treason can bring about, how much turns on
the mood in which the soldiers find themselves at the moment of action.
In this case the English are described as having come together with the
utmost good will, and as being thoroughly eager to do their duty. Yet a
transparent artifice at once paralyses them, and they become wholly
incapable of action. We must remember that here, just as in Greece, we
are dealing, not with professional soldiers, but with citizen soldiers;
we are dealing with times when every man was sometimes a soldier, and
when none but professed pirates were soldiers always. Such soldiers are
not mere machines in the hand of a master of the game; they do not
simply do their professional duty in blind obedience; they have a real
part and interest in what is going on; they are therefore liable to be
affected by the ordinary feelings of men in a way in which professional
soldiers are much less strongly affected. Such men are specially liable
to fluctuations of the spirits; they are easily encouraged and easily
disheartened; men who fight like heroes one day may be overcome by a
sudden panic the next. Hence the extraordinary importance which, with
troops of this kind, attaches to the personal exhortation and personal
example of the general; a chief who simply stands aloof and gives orders
can never win a victory. The particular speech put into the mouth of a
general before battle is no doubt commonly the invention of the
historian; but that generals found it needful to make such speeches, and
that such speeches had a most important effect on the spirit and conduct
of their armies, is clear in every history of this kind of warfare. No
doubt even professional soldiers still remain men, and are liable to be
in some degree affected in the same way; still habit and discipline make
a great change; an army in which each man is really fighting for his
hearth and home is liable to these influences in a tenfold degree.
Before long we shall see England possessed of an army combining the
merits of both systems, an army uniting discipline and patriotism; but
as yet the country had no standing force, and had to depend solely on
the enthusiasm and the sense of duty of the general levies of each
particular district. In this case, the spirit of the men of Wiltshire
and Hampshire was all that a leader could wish for; if some brave man
had stepped forward, had cut down the traitor Ælfric, and had called on
the English to follow him against the enemy, a battle would have been
certain and a victory probable. But no man had the energy to do this;
therefore the base trick thoroughly succeeded, the spirit of the troops
was damped, and the English host went away without striking a blow. But
even in retreat it must have been formidable, as it seems to have been
left quite unmolested by the enemy. Still the whole shire was left
defenceless. The town of Wilton was sacked and burned. [Sidenote: Swegen
sacks and burns Wilton and Salisbury.] Swegen then marched to Salisbury.
The Salisbury of [Sidenote: Old Sarum.] those days was not the modern
city in the plain, which circles, with but little of beauty or interest
in itself, around the most graceful of West-Saxon minsters. The object
of Swegen’s march was still the old hill-fortress,[616] where the Briton
and the Roman had entrenched [Sidenote: 552.] themselves, and at whose
foot Cynric had won one of those great battles which mark the western
stages of the Teutonic invasion. After the days of Swegen a Norman
castle and a Norman minster rose and fell on that historic spot, and the
chosen stronghold of so many races lived to become one of the bye-words
of modern political discussion. Like Exeter, Salisbury was not yet a
Bishop’s see; the prelate of Wiltshire had his lowly cathedral church in
the obscure Ramsbury; but the choice of Salisbury at the end of the
century as the seat of the united sees of Wiltshire and Dorset shows
that it must already have been a place of importance according to the
standard of the time. Yet one would think that its importance must
always have been mainly that of a military post; one can hardly conceive
Old Sarum being at any time a place of trade or the home of any
considerable population. Whatever the place consisted of at this time,
Swegen sacked and burned it, and returned to his ships with great
spoil.[617]
[Sidenote: Exploits of Ulfcytel of East-Anglia. 1004.]
The events of the next year form the exact converse of the tale which I
have just told. We have seen the spirit of a gallant army foully damped
by the malice of a single traitor. We shall now see the efforts of a
single hero, boldly struggling against every difficulty, feebly backed
by those who should have supported him, and winning, in a succession of
defeats, a glory as pure as that of the most triumphant of conquerors.
This man was Ulfcytel, who is said to have been a son-in-law of the
King, and who was at this time Earl, or at least military commander, of
the East-Angles.[618] His name proclaims his Danish origin, but it was
in him that England now found her stoutest champion in her hour of need.
This next summer Swegen took his course towards a part of England which
was largely peopled by men of his own race, to the old kingdom of
[Sidenote: Swegen surprises and burns Norwich.] Guthrum. His coming was
sudden; he sailed to the mouth of the Yare; he pushed his way up the
stream, and stormed and burned the town which had arisen near the point
of its junction with the Wensum, and which, at least in later times, has
spread itself on both sides of the smaller [Sidenote: History of the
city.] river. Norwich was in East-Anglia what Exeter was in the Western
shires. But the city itself could not boast of the same antiquity as the
Damnonian Isca. The changes of the waters in that region had caused the
British and Roman site to be forsaken; the Icenian Venta survived only
in the vague description of Caistor, a description common to it with
many other Roman towns whose distinctive names have been forgotten. At
some distance from the Roman site, where the hills slope down to the
right bank of the Wensum, the East-Anglian Kings had reared one of those
vast mounds which form so marked a feature in the Old-English system of
defence, and had crowned it doubtless with a fortified dwelling. This
home of native kingship was to be the forerunner of one of the
[Sidenote: Norwich Castle.] stateliest of Norman castles, one which
immediately suggests a name than which few in our history are more
illustrious. The castle of Norwich became the stronghold of the earls of
the house of Bigod, one of whom lived to [Sidenote: 1297.] wrest the
final confirmation of the liberties of England from the hands of the
great Edward himself. As at Exeter, as at Salisbury, the Norman castle
had already a rude forerunner, [Sidenote: Norwich not yet a Bishop’s
See.] but the Norman minster had none. The Bishop of the East-Angles
still had his seat at Elmham. A twofold translation of the see towards
the end of the century, first to Thetford and then to Norwich, points
out those two towns as being at this time the most considerable in the
district, and we accordingly find them the principal objects [Sidenote:
Importance of the town.] of hostile attack. Norwich was now one of the
greatest seats of commerce in England; the city had been greatly
favoured by several successive Kings, and it [Sidenote: Norwich burned
by Swegen.] enjoyed the privilege of a mint. A place thus rich and
flourishing was naturally marked as a prey by the invaders, who harried
and burned it, seemingly without resistance. The blow was so sudden that
even a guardian [Sidenote: Ulfcytel and the Witan of East-Anglia make
peace with the Danes.] like Ulfcytel was unprepared. He now gathered
together the provincial council, the Witan of East-Anglia,[619] whose
mention shows how much of independence the ancient kingdom still
retained. Peace was patched up with the invaders, who seemingly returned
to their ships. But, [Sidenote: The Danes break the peace and march on
Thetford.] three weeks afterwards, the Danes broke the peace, and
marched secretly to Thetford, the town in the district next in
importance to Norwich. This march seems to have led them to a greater
distance from the coast than any Danish army had ventured since the old
invasions in Ælfred’s time. Their movement did not escape the watchful
eye [Sidenote: Plans of Ulfcytel.] of Ulfcytel,[620] and the plan which
he formed, though not wholly successful, seems to vouch for his
generalship. He at once gathered his forces together as secretly as he
could, and sent a detachment to the coast to destroy the ships of the
invaders. In this latter part of his scheme he wholly failed; those whom
he sent on that errand proved [Sidenote: Thetford plundered and burned.]
either cowardly or unfaithful. And, even with the force under his own
command, he was unable to save Thetford. The town was entered by the
Danes, who plundered it, stayed there one night, and in the morning set
fire to it [Sidenote: Drawn battle between Swegen and Ulfcytel.] and
marched away towards their ships. But they were hardly clear of the
burning town when Ulfcytel came upon them with his army. That army was
comparatively small; had the whole force of East-Anglia been there, so
our authors tell us, never would the heathen men have got back to their
ships. As it was, the Danes themselves said that they never met in all
England with worse handplay than Ulfcytel brought upon them.[621] It
seems to have been a drawn battle. The Danes so far succeeded that they
were able to accomplish their object of reaching their ships; but the
fighting was hard, and the slaughter great on both sides, and we do not
hear of either side [Sidenote: Severe loss among the English leaders.]
keeping the field. As at Maldon, as at Æthelingadene, the slaughter on
the English side fell most heavily on those who were high in rank or
command.[622] No doubt, in all these battles, just as in the battles of
Homer, the chief stress of the fight fell on the thegns of the King or
Earl in command, especially on the high-born youths who were personally
attached to him and his service. We have seen that it was so at Maldon,
where we know the details; it is equally clear that it was so at
Thetford, where we [Sidenote: Illustrations supplied by Ulfcytel’s
campaign.] know only the general result. This East-Anglian campaign is
also a good illustration of the general conditions of warfare at the
time. It shows the difficulty with which the force either of the whole
kingdom or of a single earldom could be got together, and how much was
lost through mere slowness of operations. Even with a vigorous chief at
the head, the two chief towns of the earldom were surprised and burned.
But the story shows no less plainly how much a single faithful and
valiant leader could do to struggle with these difficulties. A shire
under the government of Ulfcytel was in a very different case from a
shire under the government of Ælfric. Nay, could Ulfcytel, instead of
holding a mere local command, have changed places with the boastful
Emperor of all Britain, we can well believe that the whole story of the
Danish wars would have had a very different ending.
[Sidenote: Year of respite and of famine. 1005.]
The resistance of Ulfcytel, though not wholly successful, seems to have
had at least a share in winning for England a momentary respite. We hear
of no further ravages after the battle of Thetford, and in the next year
King Swegen, instead of attacking any part of England, sailed home again
to Denmark. A famine, the most fearful ever remembered in England, was
most likely the result of his ravages, but it no doubt also helped to
send him away for a while from the wasted land. The Witan met in the
course of the year, but we have no record of any proceedings more
important than the usual grants to monasteries [Sidenote: Events of the
year 1006.] and to the King’s thegns.[623] But the next year is crowded
with events of all kinds. We now come to the rise of a man who was to be
even more completely the evil genius of the later years of this unhappy
reign than Ælfric had [Sidenote: Rise and character of Eadric.] been the
evil genius of its earlier years. This was Eadric, the son of
Æthelric,[624] surnamed Streona, who is described as a man of low birth,
of a shrewd intellect—which he used only to devise selfish and baleful
schemes—of an eloquent tongue—which he used only to persuade men to
mischief—as proud, cruel, envious, and faithless. From elaborate
pictures of this sort we instinctively make some deductions; still the
character of Eadric is written plainly enough in his recorded crimes.
That such a man should rise to power was the greatest of evils for the
nation; still his rise illustrates one good side of English society at
the time. [Sidenote: Illustrations supplied by his advancement.] In
England the poor and ignoble still could rise; on the continent they had
nearly lost all chance. Eadric rose to rank and wealth by his personal
talents, talents which no writer denies, though they all paint in strong
colours the evil use which he made of them. And he really rose; he did
not merely, like many low-born favourites of other princes, exercise a
secret influence over a weak master. He was advanced to the highest
dignities of the realm; he stood forth in the great council of the
nation among the foremost of its chiefs; he commanded the armies of his
sovereign; and, what would most of all shock modern prejudices, he was
allowed to mingle his blood with that of kings. Now, if a bad man could
thus rise by evil arts, it clearly was not impossible that a good man
might also rise in a worthier way. Instances of either kind were
doubtless unusual; the general feeling of the time was strongly
aristocratic; still there was no legal or even social hindrance to keep
a man from rising out of utter obscurity to the highest places short of
kingship. Eadric, like most favourites, seems to have made his way to
power through the ruin of an earlier favourite. A man named Wulfgeat had
been for some years the chief adviser of Æthelred. It [Sidenote: Fall of
Wulfgeat.] is not clear whether he had ever risen above thegn’s rank.
But he clearly exercised some functions which clothed him with a good
deal of power, for, among his other offences, unjust judgements are
spoken of.[625] Wulfgeat was now, doubtless through the influence of
Eadric, deprived of all his offices, and his property was confiscated, a
sentence which would seem to imply the authority of a Witenagemót. The
sentence may have been a righteous one; but at all events the
degradation of Wulfgeat opened the way for the elevation of a worse man
than himself. Wulfgeat is at least not described as an open traitor and
murderer. [Sidenote: Eadric the chief favourite.] Eadric, who had
probably been rising in position for some years, now appears as the
reigning favourite and as the [Sidenote: Earl Ælfhelm murdered at
Shrewsbury.] director of all the crimes and treasons of the court. A
monstrous crime was now committed. Ælfhelm, a nobleman who had been for
some years Earl of a part of Northumberland, probably of Deira,[626] was
present, seemingly at the court or at some Gemót, at Shrewsbury. There
Eadric received him as a familiar friend, entertained him for some days,
and on the third or fourth day took him out to a hunting-party. While
others were intent on the sport, the executioner of the town, one
Godwine, surnamed Porthund,[627] whom Eadric had won over by large gifts
and promises, started forth from an ambush at a favourable moment and
put the Earl to death.[628] The sons of Ælfhelm, Wulfheah and Ufegeat,
were soon after blinded by the King’s order at Cookham, a royal seat in
Buckinghamshire. [Sidenote: Ælfheah Archbishop of Canterbury. 1006.]
Amidst all these crimes, Archbishop Ælfric died, and Ælfheah of
Winchester, who was before long to take his place beside Dunstan as a
canonized saint, succeeded to the metropolitan throne.
[Sidenote: Scottish inroad. 1006.]
These events seem to have taken up the earlier part of the year. In the
summer a new Danish invasion began, and there seems reason to believe
that it took place at the same time as a Scottish inroad, which was
perhaps planned in concert.[629] It is now a long time since we have
heard [Sidenote: Death of Kenneth. 994.] of any disturbances on the part
of Scotland proper. King Kenneth, the faithful vassal of Eadgar, had
died in [Sidenote: Accession of Malcolm. 1004.] the year of the great
invasion of Olaf and Swegen. But his son Malcolm did not obtain quiet
possession of the Scottish crown till ten years later. He was now, it
would seem, determined to revenge the wrong which he had [Sidenote:
[1000.]] suffered at the hands of Æthelred in the devastation of
[Sidenote: Malcolm besieges Durham.] Cumberland. He is said to have
invaded Northumberland and to have laid siege to Durham. The new seat of
the Bernician bishopric[630] was growing into an important city, and it
had already become an important military post. But the government of the
country was in feeble hands. [Sidenote: Cowardice of Earl Waltheof.]
Waltheof,[631] the reigning Earl, was old and dispirited, and, instead
of meeting the invaders, he shut himself up in [Sidenote: Victory of his
son Uhtred.] King Ida’s castle at Bamburgh. But he had a son, Uhtred,
whose name we shall often meet in the history of the time, and whose
career is a strangely chequered one. When his father failed in his duty,
he supplied his place, he gathered an army, rescued Durham, and gained a
signal victory over the Scots.[632] Towards the city which he thus saved
Uhtred stood in a relation which we should have looked for rather in the
eighteenth than in the tenth century. He was married to a daughter of
Ealdhun, the Bishop who had just removed his see to Durham, and in the
character of episcopal son-in-law he held large grants of episcopal
[Sidenote: He unites both the Northumbrian Earldoms.] lands. Uhtred’s
behaviour gained him the special favour of Æthelred, who—doubtless by
the authority of one of the Gemóts of this year—deposed Waltheof from
his earldom, bestowed it on his son, and also added the earldom of
Deira, now vacant by the murder of Ælfhelm.[633] [Sidenote: His
marriages.] Uhtred, thus exalted, seems to have had no further need of
episcopal leases; for he sent the Bishop’s daughter back to her father,
honestly returning the estates which he had received with her. He then
married the daughter of a rich citizen, whom he held by quite another
tenure, that of killing her father’s bitter enemy Thurbrand. This he,
unluckily for himself, failed to do, and this failure would seem to have
set aside the second marriage also, as we presently find him receiving
the hand of King Æthelred’s daughter Ælfgifu.[634] If all this is
true—and the genealogical and local detail with which it is given seems
to stamp it as true—the ties of marriage must have sat quite as lightly
on a Northumbrian Earl as ever they did on a Norman Duke. The tale
indeed suggests that even the daughters of Bishops, a class whom we
should hardly have expected to find so familiarly spoken of after
Dunstan’s reforms, may have been sometimes married Danish fashion. But
the fact that an Earl did not disdain the daughter of a rich citizen at
once shows the importance which some even of the northern English
cities—for either York or Durham must be meant—had already reached, and
it also shows that no very broad line as yet separated the different
classes of society in such matters. The story again marks the ferocious
habits of the Danish parts of England. It seems the most natural thing
in the world for a man on his marriage to undertake to kill his
father-in-law’s enemy. We shall find that this engagement of Uhtred to
kill Thurbrand was the beginning of a long series of crimes, of an
hereditary deadly feud, which went on till after the Norman Conquest.
Such was the Scottish inroad and its results. It is wrongly placed, and
some of the details may be suspected, but the outline of the story may,
I think, be admitted. [Sidenote: Danish invasion of the year 1006.] But
of the Danish invasion there is no doubt at all. In the month of July a
vast fleet appeared off Sandwich, and Kent and Sussex were ravaged
without mercy. Æthelred for once seems to have seriously thought of
personal action against the enemy.[635] He gathered together an army
from [Sidenote: An English army raised, but in vain.] Mercia and Wessex,
which was kept throughout the whole autumn in readiness for an
engagement. But nothing came of this unusual piece of energy. The old
causes were still at work, and the enemy, perhaps remembering the
reception which they had met with at the hands of Ulfcytel, seem now to
have avoided a battle.[636] They plundered here and there, and went
backwards and forwards to their ships, till, as winter approached, the
English army dispersed, and the King returned to his old quarters at
Shrewsbury. There is a vein of bitter sarcasm in the way in which the
tale is told in the Chronicles. The writers keenly felt the incapacity
of their rulers, and the degradation of their [Sidenote: The Danes go
back to Wight. November, 1006.] country. The Danes went back to their
“frith-stool”[637]—their safe asylum, their inviolable sanctuary—in the
Isle of Wight. Presently, at Christmas, when no resistance was likely,
they went forth to their “ready farm,” to the quarters which stood
awaiting them, as it were to gather in their crops and to enjoy the fat
of their own land.[638] [Sidenote: Great plundering expedition in the
winter of 1006–7.] That is to say, they went on a plundering expedition
which carried them further from their own element than they had ever yet
ventured. They marched across Hampshire to Reading, and thence up the
valley of the Thames, “doing according to their wont and kindling their
beacons”—that is, no doubt, wasting and burning the whole country. They
thus dealt with Reading, with Wallingford, with Cholsey. They were now
in the midst of a land where almost every step is ennobled by memories
of Ælfred. Out of mere bravado, it would seem, they climbed the
neighbouring height, the long ridge of Æscesdún, which looks down on the
spot where, [Sidenote: 871.] in the great King’s first campaign, victory
had for a moment shone on the West-Saxon banners. They marched along the
ridge till they reached the vast barrow which, under the corrupted form
of Cuckamsley,[639] still preserves the name of Cwichelm, one of the two
West-Saxon [Sidenote: 636.] Kings who first submitted to baptism. This
was a spot where, in times of peace, the people of that inland shire had
held their local assemblies, and some unknown seer had risked the
prediction that, if the Danes ever got so far from the sea, they would
never see their ships again. The falsehood of the prophecy was now
shown. The Danes crossed the range of hills; they marched down on the
other side, and went on to the south. At Kennet, now Marlborough, an
English force at last met them, but it was speedily put to flight. The
Danes then turned homewards. They passed close by the gates of the royal
city of Winchester, displaying in triumph to its inhabitants the spoils
of the inland shires of Wessex, now become the defenceless prey of the
sea-rovers.[640]
This was the most fearful inroad which England had yet seen, one which
showed that the parts furthest from the sea were now no more safe from
Danish ravages than the exposed coasts of Kent and Sussex. The King kept
[Sidenote: Witenagemót of Shrewsbury. 1006–7.] his Christmas at
Shrewsbury, and there the Witan met. All heart and hope seemed to be
gone; no one could devise any means of withstanding the force which had
now harried every shire in Wessex. Nothing could be thought of but the
old device; the broken reed was again to be leaned upon; ambassadors
were sent, once more offering [Sidenote: Tribute again paid to the
Danes. 1007.] money as the price of the cessation of the ravages. The
offer was accepted; but the price was of course again raised; thirty-six
thousand pounds was to be paid, and the Danish army was to receive
provisions. They were fed during the whole winter at the general cost of
England, and early in the next year the sum of money demanded was paid.
[Sidenote: Two years’ respite. 1007–8.]
We can never speak or think of these wretched attempts to buy peace
without a feeling of shame, and yet, in this case at least, the payment
may not have been such utter madness as it appears at first sight. Of
course nothing more than a respite was ever gained; when the Danes had
spent the money, they came again for more. And it would seem, from the
example of Ulfcytel, that a respite could be as easily won by a manful,
even if not perfectly successful, resistance. Still this payment did
gain for the country a breathing-space at a time when a breathing-space
was absolutely needed. We hear nothing of any more invasions for two
years, and there was at least an attempt made to spend the interval in
useful legislation and in putting the country into a more efficient
state of defence. Æthelred and his favourites, as usual, spoiled
everything; but we need not attribute their cowardice and incapacity to
all the Witan of England. As far as we can see, the schemes of the
legislature were well considered; a respite was needed in order to
devise any scheme at all, and humiliating as it was to buy that respite,
such a course may have been absolutely necessary. But in this reign
everything was thwarted by executive misconduct. Æthelred first laid on
his Witan the necessity of consenting to all this degradation, and he
then frustrated their endeavours to make such degradation needless for
the future.
[Sidenote: Eadric made Ealdorman of the Mercians. 1007.]
Meanwhile the reigning favourite attained the height of his greatness.
He was made Ealdorman of the Mercians,[641] dishonouring the post once
held by the glorious daughter of Ælfred. It was most likely at this time
that he received the King’s daughter Eadgyth in marriage. We have now to
repeat the same comments which we made in the case of Ælfric. That old
enemy, after his last treason [Sidenote: 1003.] four years before, now
vanishes from history, and his place [Sidenote: Inexplicable treasons of
Eadric.] as chief traitor is taken by Eadric. The history of Eadric from
this moment is simply a catalogue of treasons as unintelligible as those
of his predecessor. Why a man who had just risen to the highest pitch of
greatness, son-in-law of his sovereign and viceroy of an ancient
kingdom, should immediately ally himself with the enemies of his King
and country, is one of those facts which are utterly incomprehensible.
But that it is a fact there is no good reason to doubt. Our best
authorities for this period, the writers nearest to the time, those
least given to exaggeration or romantic embellishment, distinctly assert
that it was so, and we have nothing but ingenious guesses on the other
side.
[Sidenote: Legislation of the years 1008–1009.]
The next year is one memorable in the annals of our early legislation,
and the year which followed it is still more so. The civil functions of
the King and his Witan were in full activity during the two years of
respite. The laws of Æthelred form several distinct statutes or
collections of clauses, most of which are without date; but, of the few
dated ordinances, one belongs to the former of these two years, while
another may, on internal evidence, [Sidenote: Laws of 1008.] be safely
set down as belonging to the same period. The former statute[642] deals
mainly with ecclesiastical matters, but it also contains provisions both
of a moral and of a political kind. On these points however we get much
more of general exhortations than of really specific enactments. The
whole reads like an act of penitence on the part of a repentant nation
awakened by misfortune to a sense of national sins. Heathenism is to be
cast out, an ordinance which shows what had been the effect of the
Danish invasions. Such a precept would have been needless in the days of
Ine or Offa. But now, not only were many heathen strangers settled in
the land, but we may even believe that some native Englishmen may have
fallen off to the worship of the gods who seemed to be the stronger.
Some of the clauses are vague enough. All laws are to be just; every man
is to have his rights; all men are to live in peace and
friendship—excellent advice, no doubt, but hard to carry out in any time
and place, and hardest of all when Æthelred and Eadric were to be the
chief administrators of the law. Punishments are to be mild; death
especially is to be sparingly inflicted; Christian and innocent men are
not to be sold out of the land, least [Sidenote: Laws against the
slave-trade.] of all to heathen purchasers.[643] This last prohibition
is one which is constantly repeated in the legislation of this age,
showing at once how deeply the evil was felt, and how little legislation
could do to get rid of it. We must never forget that slavery was fully
established throughout England, though the proportion of slaves varied
greatly in different parts of the country. The slave class was recruited
from two sources. Englishmen were reduced to slavery for various crimes
by sentence of law, and the children of such slaves followed the
condition of their fathers.[644] Welsh captives taken in war formed
another class, and the proportion of slaves to freemen was unusually
large in the shires on the Welsh border. Slaves of both classes were
freely sold to the Danes in Ireland, and the words of the statute seem
to imply that the kidnapping of persons of free condition was not
unknown.[645] Both these practices our present statute endeavours to
hinder. The same prohibition was re-enacted under Cnut,[646] but the
practice survived all the laws aimed against it, and we shall see, as we
go on, it was in full force a few years after the Norman Conquest. The
intention in this enactment is as good as it could be; but the enactment
is vague, no definite penalty is attached to breaches of the law, and we
are not surprised to hear that it had little practical effect. Some of
the other precepts are even vaguer. We may sum up the whole by saying
that all virtues are to be practised and all vices avoided; all
church-dues are to be regularly paid, and all festivals are to be
regularly kept, especially the festival of the newest English saint, the
martyred King Eadward.[647] The whole is wound up with a pious and
patriotic resolve of real and impressive solemnity. The nation pledges
itself to fidelity to God and the King. It will worship one God and be
true to one royal lord; it will manfully and with one accord defend life
and land, and will pray earnestly to God Almighty for his help.[648]
In all this we see a spirit of real reform and real earnestness
thoroughly suited to the time. And if some of the ordinances of the
Witan are somewhat vague and dreamy, we find one at least of a more
definite and practical kind. [Sidenote: The formation of a fleet
decreed.] The happy days of Eadgar are to be restored, when yearly after
Easter the royal fleet of England sailed forth, and when no enemy dared
approach the land which it guarded.[649] Under the wretched advisers of
his son this regular order had doubtless been neglected. Ships had
sometimes been assembled, but certainly not as a matter of regular
yearly course. It is singular how seldom, in dealing with an enemy so
essentially sea-faring, we hear of any attempt at [Sidenote: 992.]
action by sea. The gallant sea-fight of sixteen years earlier[650]
stands almost alone. But now the good old practice was to be renewed,
and the royal fleet was to assemble yearly [Sidenote: Ordinances against
desertion from the land-force.] after Easter.[651] Nor was the
efficiency of the land-force forgotten. It was secured by heavy
penalties against deserters. A fine of one hundred and twenty shillings
was incurred in ordinary cases; but when the King was present in person,
desertion placed the life and estate of the culprit at the royal
mercy.[652] The contributions for the repair of forts and bridges were
to be strictly discharged,[653] and generally everything to do with the
defence of the land was to be put on the best footing that might be.
[Sidenote: Decrees of Enham,]
The decrees of the undated Council of Enham[654] are marked as belonging
to the same period, by the repetition of nearly the same enactments,
often in nearly the same words. They contain much the same moral and
religious exhortations, and much the same ordinances for the mustering
of the land and sea-force, for the repair of the forts and bridges, for
the punishment of deserters and of those [Sidenote: drawn up in the name
of the Witan only.] who damage a ship of war. But the most remarkable
thing about this statute is that it is drawn up in the name of the Witan
only, without any mention of the King.[655] But there is no need to
infer that there was in this case any departure from the usual
legislative process. The Witan only are mentioned; but the action of the
Witan implies the action of the King, just as in many places in the
Chronicles, where the King only is mentioned, the action of the King
implies the action of the Witan. We may indeed fairly suppose that both
these statutes were more distinctly the work of the Witan, and less
distinctly the work of the King, than in most other cases. The laws of
Ælfred were the work of the King, which he submitted to the Witan for
their approval.[656] So, we may be sure, was the case with the laws of
the other great Kings who came after him. But we may well believe that
the laws of Æthelred were the work of Æthelred only in the sense in
which the Great Charter was the work of John. Both statutes breathe the
same spirit, a spirit widely different from anything likely to come
forth from Æthelred or his immediate counsellors. They clearly sprang
from the best elements of wisdom that the Great Council of the nation
could still supply. They show a real desire to mend the ways of the
nation, to make satisfaction to God and man for the past, and for the
future to work manfully alike for national reformation and for the
national defence. The whole tone is at once pious and patriotic; and the
piety is of a kind which, while it strictly enforces every
ecclesiastical observance, by no means forgets the weightier matters of
the law, judgement, mercy, and truth. In all this we can hardly fail to
trace the hand of good Archbishop Ælfheah.
[Sidenote: The fleet raised by contributions of districts.]
A fleet then was to be raised, a fleet such as guarded the land in the
days of Ælfred and Eadgar. But how was the fleet to be raised? This
question leads us to a most remarkable statement in our authorities, the
details of which are puzzling in the highest degree, but as to the
general bearing of which there can be no doubt.[657] The cost of the
fleet was to be borne by the nation at large, individuals or districts
being made to contribute according to their means and extent. In those
days land was of course taken as the only standard of property on which
the assessment could be made. It does not appear that either individuals
or districts were called on to make any contributions in money to the
royal treasury. They were to contribute in kind, according to a scale
laid down by the Witan, in the shape of ships, or of things needful for
the ships or their crews. There can be no doubt that, in the reign of
Æthelred, this was a much wiser arrangement; money which had to pass
through the hands either of the King or of his favourite would most
[Sidenote: The system not a new one.] likely not have appeared again in
the form of ships. The practice was not one which was invented for the
nonce. There is evidence to show that a contribution of ships in
[Sidenote: 995–1005.] kind was the ancient custom. In the will of
Archbishop Ælfric, which must of course have been drawn up a few years
before this time, that prelate bequeaths a ship to his flock in Kent and
another to his former flock in Wiltshire.[658] This gift must have been
intended to relieve the people of those shires from some part of their
share in this doubtless heavy impost. It is hardly possible that the
bequest can have any other object; one can think of no other motive
which could lead an Archbishop or any one else to leave [Sidenote: The
contribution made by shires.] a ship to a shire, especially to an inland
shire. This evidence seems to show that the contribution was made by
shires, that each shire had to furnish a certain number of ships
according to its extent, the assessment on individuals or on smaller
districts being doubtless settled in the Scirgemót. This was most likely
the old and regular way of raising a fleet, the way in which the great
fleets of Ælfred [Sidenote: This assessment the origin of ship-money.]
and Eadgar had been raised. But this vote of King Æthelred’s Witenagemót
does not only look backward; it looks forward. There can be no doubt
that, in this ancient way of gathering together a fleet, we have the
germ of the famous ship-money of the seventeenth century.[659] The writs
discovered by Noy calling on maritime, and sometimes on inland, counties
and places to furnish ships, and [Sidenote: 1634–5.] the writs issued by
Charles the First in pursuance of the precedents thus discovered,
undoubtedly take their root in the statute of the thirtieth year of King
Æthelred. They are the degenerate successors of that great vote of the
Witenagemót of 1008, just as that vote was the more lawful successor of
earlier votes in the days of England’s greatest Kings. There is of
course one all important difference between the two cases. The
contributions levied by Charles were levied by an usurping stretch of
the royal prerogative; the contributions levied by Ælfred, Eadgar, and
Æthelred were granted, in due form of law, by the Great Council of the
nation. But the impost was the same, though the authority by which it
was raised was lawful in the one case and unlawful in the other. The
earlier writs of ship-money under Charles demanded actual ships, just as
in the case before us. And there was a call for special heed to the
fleet in the days of Charles, just as much as there was in the days of
Æthelred. To say nothing of the general complications of Europe, the
Algerine corsairs, though not quite so formidable as Swegen’s Danes, did
serious damage to English commerce, and they sometimes actually landed
and plundered on the English and Irish coasts. The objection was to the
illegal shape in which the demand came. And the later writs, which,
under pretence of a composition for the actual ships, levied a tax by
royal authority over the whole country, were a further abuse. Money came
into the King’s clutches, not only without any lawful right, but without
any kind of guaranty that it would be applied to the purposes for which
it professed to be raised. This was the very evil against which the
ancient mode of contributions in kind effectually guarded.
[Sidenote: Embassy to Normandy. 1009?]
Besides these vigorous preparations at home, there seems some reason to
believe that an attempt was made at this time to strengthen England by
foreign help. It was plainly felt that the peace bought from the Danes
had secured only a breathing-space, that their attacks would soon begin
again, and that it was necessary to employ the blessed interval in
obtaining support from every possible quarter. It was not unnatural to
hope that the marriage of Emma had gained for England a continental
ally, and we are told, on secondary but not contemptible authority, that
Æthelred now sent to his brother-in-law Duke Richard, asking for both
help and counsel.[660] There is nothing unlikely in the statement; but,
whatever may have been given by Richard in the way of counsel, it does
not appear [Sidenote: No Norman help given.] that a single Norman ship
or Norman soldier was sent to the help of England. Hugh, the betrayer of
Exeter, is the only recorded contribution which either Norman chivalry
or Norman churlhood made to the defence of our shores against the Dane.
Nor indeed was there any strong reason why Richard should help his
brother-in-law, unless he had taken up the cause as a kind of crusade,
and had stepped in as a Christian champion against the heathen invaders.
But Richard and his subjects were Normans before they were Christians,
and all the traditions of Norman policy tended to fraternization with
their Danish kinsmen. Such fraternization with the Danes had already
caused, certainly a dispute, perhaps an open war, with England. Richard
the Good in no way departed from this traditional policy. [Sidenote:
Richard’s treaty with Swegen.] According to a Norman account, told with
great confusion as to time, Richard was, either now or a few years
later, actually bound by a treaty with Swegen, not only to receive sick
and wounded Danes in his dominions, but to allow the spoils of England
to be sold in the Norman ports.[661] This was the old ground of quarrel,
but Æthelred was just now not likely to retaliate by another invasion of
the Côtentin. And, according to another story, told with equal confusion
as to dates, Richard, like his father, did not scruple to accept the
help of two heathen Kings of the North in his warfare with his Christian
neighbours.[662] At a later time indeed he could not well refuse shelter
in his dominions to his sister with her husband and children; [Sidenote:
Richard keeps aloof from English affairs.] but anything like even an
attempt at active interference in English affairs on the part of
Normandy was delayed till the reign of his son Robert.
[Sidenote: The fleet assembles at Sandwich. 1009.]
At last the great fleet was gathered together at Sandwich. So great a
fleet had never been seen in the reign of any King. No man living had
seen such an one, nor was such an one spoken of in any book. There the
ships were, enough and ready to guard the land against any foe.[663]
And, under Ælfred or Æthelstan, we may be sure that those ships would
have kept the seas clear from every foe, or else they would have met the
invaders face to face on their own element. But in the reign of Æthelred
domestic treason ruined everything. The fleet raised by such
unparalleled efforts was doomed to do no more for England than any other
preparations which had been made during this miserable reign. The fleet
was ready, but there was discord among the commanders. Eadric, in his
own rise, had raised along with himself several of his brothers,[664] of
one of whom, Brihtric, we read a character quite as bad [Sidenote:
Affair of Wulfnoth and Brihtric.] as of Eadric himself. This man, at
this time or a little earlier, brought unjust charges to the King, of
what kind we are not told, against a leader named Wulfnoth, described as
“Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon.”[665] Orders were given to seize
Wulfnoth; he fled, and persuaded the crews of twenty ships, most likely
the contingent of his own shire, to flee with him. They presently began
to plunder the whole south coast. Brihtric then followed him with eighty
ships, thinking to win great fame,[666] and to bring back Wulfnoth alive
or dead. But a violent storm, such as had never before been known, beat
his ships to pieces, and dashed them against the shore, where presently
Wulfnoth [Sidenote: Brihtric’s ships burned by Wulfnoth.] came and
burned them. A hundred ships were thus lost in one way or another; but
these must have been only a small portion of so great an armament. Yet
an unaccountable [Sidenote: Utter dispersion of the fleet.] panic seized
on all men. In the emphatic words of the Chronicles, “When this was
known to the other ships where the King was, how the others had fared,
it was as if all were redeless; and the King gat him home, and the
Ealdormen and the High-Witan, and forsook the ships thus lightly; and
the folk then that were in the ships took the ships eft to London, and
let all the nation’s toil thus lightly perish, and there was no victory
the better that all Angle-kin had hoped for.”[667]
The fleet was lost just when it was most needed. Æthelred, Wulfnoth, and
Brihtric had, among them, [Sidenote: Renewed Danish invasion. 1009.]
wrought the utter ruin of their country. As might have been looked for,
and as evidently was looked for, the Danes, when they had spent their
money, came again. First [Sidenote: Thurkill’s fleet.] came a fleet
commanded by an Earl Thurcytel or Thurkill, who plays a great part in
the history for about twelve years to come.[668] In the month of August
this detachment was followed by a still larger one, under the command of
Heming and Eglaf.[669] The treason of Wulfnoth had left neither fleet
nor army to withstand them. The two fleets met at Sandwich, whither
their crews marched to Canterbury [Sidenote: Canterbury and East-Kent
buy peace.] and assaulted the city. But the citizens, in partnership
with the men of East-Kent, bought them off with a payment of three
thousand pounds. We may here, as before in East-Anglia,[670] see the
action of the local Witan, and in the distinct mention of the
East-Kentish men[671] we may see traces of the time when Kent had two
Kings, as it even now has two Bishops.[672] The Danes then went back to
their ships; they sailed to their old quarters in Wight, and thence
ravaged Sussex, Hampshire, and even Berkshire. Æthelred seems now to
have plucked up a little heart; the spirit which had been kindled by the
vigorous preparations of the last two years had not quite died away. He
gathered an army from all England, and placed detachments [Sidenote:
Efforts of Æthelred frustrated by Eadric.] at various points along the
coast. At one time, when the Danes were returning, laden with booty,
from one of their plundering expeditions, the King stopped their way
with a large force, both Æthelred and his people having, so we are told,
made up their minds to conquer or die.[673] But, by one of those
inexplicable treasons of which we have so many in this reign, Eadric
dissuaded the King from the intended battle,[674] and the Danes were
allowed to [Sidenote: November 11, 1009.] go back to their ships
unmolested. After Martinmas they took up their winter quarters in the
Thames; they ravaged Essex and other parts on both sides of the river,
and again [Sidenote: Vain attempts of the Danes on London.] made several
assaults on London. But the old spirit of the city was as strong as
ever; every attempt of the Danes was beaten off, to the great loss of
the assailants, by the citizens themselves, seemingly without any
further help. [Sidenote: January, 1010.] After Christmas they set out
again, and plunged yet further into the heart of the country than they
had ever [Sidenote: Oxford burned.] ventured before. They crossed the
Chiltern hills, reached Oxford, and burned the town. They then turned
back, as if intending another attack on London. They went on in two
divisions, plundering on both sides of the Thames. But hearing that a
force was gathered against them in London, the northern division crossed
the river at Staines. They then marched through Surrey back to their
ships, and passed Lent in repairing them.[675]
[Sidenote: Progress of the Danish ravages.]
In each of these campaigns, if plundering expeditions in which no
resistance is met with can be called campaigns, the ravages of the Danes
become wider and more fearful, spreading every year over some portion of
the land which had hitherto remained untouched. And, in the same
proportion, the spirit of the English and their power of resistance
[Sidenote: Last year of resistance.] seem to die away. We have now
reached a year even more frightful than any that went before it, a year
which seems to have finally crushed England. It is in this year that we
meet with the last resistance that was offered to the invaders during
this stage of the war. It was not till four years later, when it was too
late, that the national spirit again awoke after the flight and return
of [Sidenote: April, 1010.] Æthelred. After Easter the Danish fleet
sailed forth, and this time it attacked East-Anglia. They landed near
[Sidenote: Ulfeytel’s second battle, at Ringmere, May 18.] Ipswich, at a
place called Ringmere. But there a hero was waiting for them. In this
reign however a hero was commonly accompanied by a traitor to thwart his
efforts. This time Ulfeytel was not taken by surprise; he stood
[Sidenote: The battle lost by the treachery of Thurcytel.] ready for
them with the whole force of East-Anglia. The battle began, and was for
a while doubtful; but before long a Thegn of Danish descent, Thurcytel,
surnamed Marehead, set the example of flight, which was followed by the
whole army, save only the men of Cambridgeshire, who stood their ground
and fought valiantly to the last.[676] The slaughter was great, and, as
usual, it fell heavily on the chief men, that is doubtless mainly on the
_comitatus_ of Ulfcytel. There died Æthelstan, a son-in-law of the
King,[677] the noble Thegn Oswig and his son, and Eadwig or Eadwine
[Sidenote: [1002.]] the brother of Eafic, whose murder was recorded
eight years before.[678] There too died Wulfric the son of Leofwine a
man of the stamp of Brihtnoth, at once bountiful to ecclesiastical
foundations and true to his country in the [Sidenote: [1004.]] day of
battle.[679] Through his bounty the great monastery of Burton had been
called into being six years earlier. But it is more to our purpose to
note that, on the field of Ringmere, Wulfric, in noble contrast to the
spirit which was so rife throughout the land, must have come as a
volunteer, defending a part of the country which was not his immediate
home. According to some accounts, he held the rank of Ealdorman in one
of the shires of north-western Mercia, and among his vast possessions,
scattered over a large part of Mercia and southern Northumberland, we
find none that could have given him any special personal interest in
East-Anglian warfare. The Danes kept possession of the battle-field;
they harried all East-Anglia for three weeks; they burned Thetford and
Cambridge, and then, partly on horseback and partly in their ships,
returned to the Thames. This second burning of [Sidenote: [1004.]]
Thetford, a town which had already been once burned six years before,
shows, like so many other cases in these wars, the ease with which, when
houses were almost wholly built of wood, a town was destroyed and again
rebuilt. [Sidenote: Further ravages.] After a few days they set out
again, ravaged Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire, where they had been
before, and the districts, hitherto seemingly untouched, of Bedfordshire
and Hertfordshire. The state of things which now followed cannot be so
well described as in the words of [Sidenote: State of the country as
described by the Chroniclers.] the Chronicles. “And when they were gone
to their ships, then should the force go out eft against them if they
should land; then went the force home, and when they were east, then
man[680] held the force west, and when they were at the south, then was
our force at the north. Then bade man all the Witan to the King, and man
then should rede how man should guard this land. And though man somewhat
red, that stood not so much as one month. And next was there no
headman[681] that force would gather, and ilk fled as he most might, and
next _would no shire so much as help other_.”[682] A state of things
like this, where the utter corruption of the general government
paralyses all national action, gives every encouragement to local and
personal selfishness. Such selfishness is at all times rife enough in
the ordinary mind. In times of any local pestilence or other misfortune,
the districts which are exempt are often inclined to hug themselves in
their supposed safety, to be unwilling to take any active exertion for
the relief of others, or even to take the needful precautions for their
own defence. And, in the times of which we speak, war of all kinds, a
Danish invasion, a border war with the Welsh or the Scots, was a scourge
at least not more out of the common way than a visitation of cholera or
cattle-plague is now. That the Danes should be somewhere in the land had
begun to be taken for granted. Each district had thus learned to think
only of its own momentary safety, and to be careless about everything
else. And this would be especially the case in a country, like England
at that time, where the different parts of the kingdom were still very
imperfectly welded together, where the habit of common action was still
new and needed the strong arm of an able King thoroughly to enforce it.
Even in this wretched year we may mark three stages of degradation. The
first expedition met with real resistance, resistance which, had not
Ulfcytel and Wulfric been betrayed by Thurcytel, would probably have
been successful. In the second stage, though it does not appear that a
blow was struck after the battle of Ringmere, yet there was at least the
show of calling out troops against the enemy. But before the year was
out we hear of a third Danish expedition, to which it would seem that
not the least shadow of resistance was offered. At the end of November
the enemy set forth again. They now struck deep into the heart of the
country, going much further from their own element [Sidenote:
Northampton burned. November, 1010.] than they had ever been before.
They marched to Northampton, burned the town, and ravaged the
neighbourhood. They then struck southwards, ravaged Wiltshire, and by
midwinter they came back to their [Sidenote: Extent of the ravages up to
this time.] ships, burning everywhere as they went. Sixteen shires—our
authorities stop to reckon them up[683]—had now been ravaged with fire
and sword. Northumberland and the western and northern shires of Mercia
were still untouched; and the western part of Wessex, which had suffered
severely in former years, seems to have seen no [Sidenote: [1003.]]
enemy since Swegen’s march from Exeter to Salisbury. But the shires of
East-Anglia (seemingly reckoned as one only), Essex, Middlesex,
Hertford, Buckingham, Oxford, Bedford, Cambridge, Huntingdon,
Northampton, Kent, Surrey, Sussex,[684] Hampshire, Wiltshire, and
Berkshire, had all been more or less harried by the terrible Thurkill.
The spirit of the nation was now crushed, and its means of defence were
utterly exhausted.
[Sidenote: Peace again purchased. 1011.]
The Witan met early in the next year. All notion of resistance seems to
have been given up, but another attempt was made to buy off the
enemy.[685] An embassy was sent to the Danes, and another peace was
patched up. The price was, of course, again raised, and it now reached
forty-eight thousand pounds. But such a sum was not at once forthcoming,
and it was not actually paid for a full year. This negotiation seems not
to have gained for the country even that temporary repose which had been
gained by earlier payments; the delay of payment may even have provoked
the enemy to fresh ravages. At all events, we read that they went on
harrying the land just as before. And the Chronicles may well say that
all these evils came upon the land through lack of counsel,[686] when we
find how Æthelred and Eadric employed any momentary respite that the
nominal [Sidenote: [1000.]] peace may have given them. It is the old
story of eleven years before, when Æthelred wasted such time and
strength as he had left in a needless, and probably unjust, attack
[Sidenote: Eadric invades Wales, and ravages Saint David’s. 1011.] upon
his Cumbrian vassal. So now Eadric and his master picked out this time,
of all others, for an expedition into Wales. We are not told what
special offence the Welsh princes had given just at this moment. Border
skirmishes were no doubt always going on along the Mercian frontier; but
the present expedition was clearly something much more serious, and it
must have had a special cause. It is a highly probable conjecture[687]
that, just as in the case of Malcolm, the wrath of the English over-lord
was aroused by a refusal on the part of the Welsh princes to contribute
to the Danegeld. The expedition, at all events, made a deep impression
on the Welsh, as it is the only warfare with England which their
national chroniclers think worthy of record for many years before and
afterwards.[688] An English army entered South Wales, under the command
of Eadric, who, as Ealdorman of the Mercians, would be the natural
commander. With him was joined in command another Englishman, whose name
is too hopelessly disfigured in the Welsh accounts to be recovered.[689]
They marched through the whole of South Wales, as far as that remote
bishopric whither Saint David had fled from the face of man. There they
plundered whatever rude forerunners already stood on the site of the
most striking group of buildings in Britain. A force which was able to
accomplish such a march must have been equally able to do some real
service against the Danes; but against them not a blow seems to have
been struck.
But later in the year, in September, a fearful blow indeed was struck on
the other side. Perhaps it was not more fearful, there is some reason to
believe that it was in itself less so, than some other events of this
dreadful war; but it is clothed with special importance on account
[Sidenote: Siege and capture of Canterbury. Sept. 8–29, 1011.] of the
rank and character of a single sufferer. The Danes now again besieged
Canterbury,[690] and on the twentieth day the city was betrayed to them
by a traitorous churchman, one Ælfmær, whose life had been saved by
Archbishop Ælfheah on some unrecorded occasion. The Danes seem on this
occasion to have been in an unusually merciful mood. This was most
likely owing to the influence of Thurkill, who, if he had not already
embraced Christianity, certainly did so soon afterwards. The most
authentic accounts distinctly exclude any general massacre, though the
later narratives give us a harrowing picture of slaughter and torture,
worked in doubtless from the stock accounts of Danish barbarities
elsewhere. That the metropolitan church was sacked and burned is a
matter of course for which we hardly need any evidence. The number of
captives was untold; the rich would doubtless be ransomed, and the rest
sold for slaves. Ælfmær, the Abbot of Saint Augustine’s, was, for some
unexplained reason, allowed to escape. But Ælfweard the King’s reeve,
Leofrune, Abbess of Saint Mildthryth’s monastery in Canterbury, and
Godwine, Bishop of Rochester,[691] were all carried [Sidenote: Captivity
of Archbishop Ælfheah.] away. And with them was another captive, whose
name has made the capture of Canterbury to stand out more conspicuously
than most of the events of this age, Ælfheah, Primate of all England.
[Sidenote: Life of Ælfheah. Born, 954.]
Ælfheah was a man of noble birth, who, according to the standard of
piety recognized by his age, had early in life forsaken, not only his
paternal estate, but his widowed mother, in order to become a monk. At
Deerhurst, at Bath, perhaps at Glastonbury, he strove after all monastic
perfection. According to some reports, he was first Prior of one of the
two great monasteries of Somerset, and afterwards [Sidenote: Bishop of
Winchester, 984.] Abbot of the other.[692] But it is more certain that
he was advanced to the bishopric of Winchester, by the special favour of
Dunstan, at a comparatively early age. [Sidenote: Archbishop of
Canterbury, 1009.] A few years before the present time he had, as we
have seen, been raised to the metropolitan throne. The Archbishop was
now led away captive by the Danes. According to the most trustworthy
account, he at first promised them a ransom,[693] in expectation of
which they kept him seven months in their ships. Meanwhile, not only the
ransom of Ælfheah, but the general ransom of all England remained
unpaid. The forty-eight thousand pounds, the price of the pretended
peace, was still [Sidenote: Witenagemót at London, Easter (April 13),
1012.] owing. To settle this debt, Ealdorman Eadric—the King is not
named—and the other Witan met in full Gemót. The Danes meanwhile lay in
the Thames near Greenwich. On the Saturday after Easter the Danes seem
to have held some kind of festival, at which they got very drunk on wine
lately brought from the south. This was no doubt one fruit of that
commerce between the Danes and the Norman ports which Duke Richard and
his people found so profitable. The Normans exchanged the wines of
Aquitaine for the tribute-money or the slaves of England. The Danes in
their drunkenness now called on Ælfheah for the payment of the promised
ransom. He refused; he would pay nothing; he had sinned in promising to
pay; [Sidenote: Murder of Ælfheah. April 19th, 1012.] no one should give
anything for his life; he offered himself to them to deal with him as
they pleased. They then dragged the Archbishop to their husting or place
of assembly. Thurkill tried to save him, offering gold and silver,
anything save his ship only, to save the holy man’s life. But the rest
would not hearken, and they began to pelt the Archbishop with stones,
logs of wood, and the bones and skulls of oxen,[694] the remains of
their late feast. At last one Thrim, whom Ælfheah had converted and whom
he had confirmed the day before, moved by a feeling of pity, clave his
head with his battle-axe. The conduct of the Danes both before and
afterwards shows that this attack on the Archbishop was a mere sudden
outbreak, caused half by drunkenness, half by wrath at the Archbishop’s
failure to make the promised payment. Thurkill had not been able to save
the Archbishop’s life, but it must have been owing to his influence, and
to that of any other converts whom Ælflheah had made, that the body was
allowed to be taken to London with all reverence. It was there received
by two Bishops, Ælfhun of London and Eadnoth of Dorchester, and was
buried in Saint Paul’s minster.
We shall read later in our story how the claim of Ælfheah [Sidenote: Was
Ælfheah a Martyr?] to the title of martyr was afterwards disputed by his
foreign successor Lanfranc. But the honours paid to the English
Archbishop were strongly defended by the more generous Anselm, on the
ground that, though Ælfheah did not die for any point of Christian
belief, yet he died for Christian justice and charity, as refusing to
plunder his people in order to obtain a ransom for himself.[695] Ælfheah
is not the only one in the list of our ancient martyrs whose technical
claim to the honours of martyrdom may fairly be doubted. As in the case
of the young King Eadward, the name was freely bestowed on any good man
who died by an unrighteous death. According to the most trustworthy
narrative, Ælfheah, however innocently, brought his death upon himself,
by making a promise and then failing to perform it. Hagiographers have
of course surrounded him with a halo of sanctity and miracle, and they
have clearly exaggerated the evil deeds of his destroyers. But, putting
all exaggerations aside, it is easy to see in Ælfheah a thoroughly good
and Christian man, one of those men of simple, straightforward,
benevolent, earnestness, of whom the English Church in that age produced
many. He was undoubtedly a saint, and it seems hard to refuse him the
title of martyr. He had at least as good a right to it as many martyrs
of earlier times, who brought on themselves a death which they might
have avoided by provoking or challenging their heathen enemies.
[Sidenote: The money paid to the Danes.]
Soon after the Archbishop’s murder, the forty-eight thousand pounds, the
ransom of England, was paid, oaths [Sidenote: Thurkill enters the
English service. 1012.] were sworn, and the Danish fleet dispersed. But
Thurkill, whose whole conduct had shown a distinct leaning to
Christianity, now entered the English service.[696] As we afterwards
find him a zealous Christian, he was doubtless baptized now, if he had
not been already baptized by Ælfheah. He brought with him forty-five
ships, the crews of which were to receive food and clothing from the
King, and they engaged in return to defend England against every enemy.
[Sidenote: Character of Thurkill.]
Thurkill is a character of much interest, as he in many points
resembles, on a smaller scale, his wonderful countryman Cnut. He came to
England on an errand of destruction, and he was gradually won over to be
the stoutest defender of the land which he came to ravage. He was not a
mere Pallig,[697] to accept English wealth and honours, and then to go
over to the enemy at the first opportunity. When he swore oaths to
Æthelred, he honestly devoted himself to the master whose bread he ate.
He fought valiantly for England, and his ships for a while were the only
refuge where the native King of the English could find shelter. If we
find him at a later time once more on the Danish side, it was probably
not till death had set him free from all personal ties to his first
master, certainly not till English Ealdormen had set him the example of
acknowledging the foreign King.
[Sidenote: Swegen’s last invasion of England. July, 1013.]
It would seem that Thurkill’s change of side hastened the last act of
this stage of the Danish invasions. We have now not heard anything of
Swegen personally for nine years. He had meanwhile been busily engaged
in warfare nearer home; but as regards England, he clearly was only
biding his time. On the one hand, the country was thoroughly weakened
and disheartened, and seemed to stand ready for him to take possession.
On the other hand, as far as material help went, England had gained
greatly by the accession of the valiant Thurkill and his followers. To
chastise Thurkill, at least to guard against the possible consequences
of his conduct, seems to have been the immediate occasion of Swegen’s
last and greatest invasion.[698] But this motive can have done little
more than hasten a purpose which was already fully determined. Swegen
had no doubt long resolved on the complete conquest of England; but he
may well have seen that Thurkill’s new position rendered his own
presence immediately necessary, lest his schemes should be supplanted by
the establishment of a rival Danish dynasty in the country. However this
may be, Swegen set forth, accompanied by his son Cnut, [Sidenote:
Magnificence of Swegen’s fleet.] afterwards so famous, and reached
England in July. The magnificence of his fleet is described in the most
glowing colours.[699] There is no doubt that, savages as they appear in
warfare, the Northern nations of that age had made no small progress in
many of the arts. The fact is fully proved by the antiquities of that
time and of earlier times which still remain. And the adornment of the
ships which were so dear to the heart of every Northern warrior[700] was
a favourite form of splendour.[701] There may doubtless be some
exaggeration, but there is also doubtless a certain measure of truth, in
the account of Swegen’s splendid fleet, of the birds and dragons on the
tops of the masts which showed the way of the wind, of the figures of
men and animals in gold, silver, and amber, which formed the signs of
the ships, the lions, the bulls, the dolphins, and, what we should
hardly have looked for, the centaurs. With this fleet, armed with the
whole force of Denmark, Swegen crossed the sea, and came first to
[Sidenote: Swegen sails up the Humber.] Sandwich. He then changed his
course, and sailed to the mouth of the Humber, to a country among whose
population the Danish element was large. The work of so many valiant
Kings, of Eadward, of Æthelstan, of Eadmund, was undone in a moment. The
North of England was again severed from the West-Saxon monarchy. The
Danish King sailed up the Trent, he pitched his camp at Gainsborough,
and all the country on the Danish side of Watling-street submitted
without resistance. Embassies [Sidenote: Northumberland, Lindesey, and
the Five Boroughs submit. 1013.] came in from all parts of the North.
The Northumbrians first submitted under their Earl Uhtred, the King’s
son-in-law. We have seen him acting vigorously before,[702] and we shall
see him acting vigorously again; but just now he did nothing to check
the panic, even if he was not the first to be carried away by it.[703]
Next came the men of Lindesey, and, somewhat later, the men of the Five
Boroughs. The conquest of that famous confederacy [Sidenote: 920–22.
942.] had been reckoned among the most renowned exploits of Eadward and
of Eadmund;[704] but their mention now shows that they must still have
kept up some measure of independence and of connexion with each other.
Before long, all the population north-east of Watling-street had
acknowledged Swegen. From all these districts he took hostages, whom he
entrusted to his son Cnut, who was left in command of the fleet. He also
demanded horses and food for his army, and, more than this, the
contingents of the shires which had submitted had to follow him,
willingly or unwillingly, [Sidenote: Swegen enters Mercia;] in his
onward march.[705] With this force he then crossed Watling-street, and
struck south-west, into the strictly English districts of Mercia, into
the one part of England [Sidenote: his horrible ravages.] which had as
yet escaped ravage, some districts of which could hardly have seen war
since the days of Ælfred. The distinction between the Danish and English
districts was clearly marked in his treatment of the two. Hitherto we
have heard of no ravages; but, when he was once within the purely
English border,[706] his cruelties became fearful, and they were carried
on in the most systematic way. He “wrought the most evil that any host
might do;” he is even charged with directly ordering, as his rule of
warfare,[707] the ravage of fields, the burning of towns, the robbery of
churches, the slaughter of men, and the rape of [Sidenote: Submission of
Oxford and Winchester.] women. In this fashion he passed through the
country to Oxford, which had already risen from its ashes. The town was
saved by speedily submitting and giving hostages. Winchester itself did
the like. Swegen then [Sidenote: Swegen repulsed from London.] marched
upon London; but here his fortune was very different. He had to
encounter not only a valiant resistance, but also ill luck of a
different kind.[708] Many of his men, unable to find either ford or
bridge, were drowned in the Thames. At last he assaulted the city. But
the [Sidenote: [994.]] heart of the citizens was as strong as when they
beat off both Swegen and Olaf Tryggvesson nineteen years before. The
presence of King Æthelred within the city was not likely to add much to
the vigour of the defence,[709] but the brave Dane Thurkill was there,
faithfully discharging the [Sidenote: 992, 994, 1009, 1013.] duties of
his new service. For the fourth time during this reign, the invaders
were beaten back from the walls of the great merchant city, the only
resistance that Swegen seems to have met with during this fearful march.
He then turned back into Wessex, first to Wallingford, then to Bath,
destroying in his former fashion as he went. [Sidenote: Swegen marches
to Bath; the West-Saxon Thegns submit.] At Bath the terrible drama was
brought to an end. Æthelmær, Ealdorman of Devonshire, with all the
thegns of the West, came to him, submitted, and gave hostages. Putting
the language of the different accounts together, there can be little
doubt that this was, or professed to be, a formal act of the Witan of
Wessex, deposing Æthelred and raising Swegen to the throne.
Northumberland had already acknowledged him; and, considering that
Swegen brought the contingents of the North of England with him, it is
possible that there may have even been enough of the chief men of
different parts of the kingdom present to give the assembly something
like the air of a general Witenagemót. An election of Swegen was of
course an election under _duresse_ in its very harshest shape, and would
in no way express the real wishes of the electors. [Sidenote: Swegen is
acknowledged King. 1013.] But that some approach to the usual legal
formalities were gone through seems implied in the significant way in
which we are told that Swegen was now looked upon as “full King” by the
whole people.[710] Whether he was crowned is a much more doubtful
matter; the nominal religion of Swegen at this moment is a great
problem, and we may doubt whether, if the apostate sought the Christian
rite, any prelate would have been found to admit him to it. But that
Swegen was acknowledged as King is perfectly plain. He now went
northward to his fleet, seemingly for the purpose of attacking by sea
the one city which still held out. But now the spirit even of the
Londoners at last gave way; out of sheer fear of the [Sidenote: London
submits.] threatened cruelty of the new King, they submitted and gave
hostages. By a strange turning about of events,[711] all England was now
in the hands of Swegen, while the cause of Æthelred was still maintained
by Thurkill and [Sidenote: Æthelred takes refuge in Thurkill’s fleet.]
the Danish fleet in the Thames. The monarchy of Cerdic was now confined
to the decks of forty-five Scandinavian war-ships. The fleet still lay
at Greenwich, the scene of the martyrdom of Ælfheah. Thither,
immediately after the submission of London, Æthelred and Thurkill betook
[Sidenote: Emma and her sons sent to Normandy. August, 1013.]
themselves. The Lady Emma went over to her brother in Normandy, in
company with Ælfsige, Abbot of Peterborough, and she was presently
followed by her two young sons, the Æthelings Eadward and Ælfred, with
their tutor Ælfhun, Bishop of London.[712] Æthelred himself stayed some
time longer with the fleet, but at midwinter he went to the Isle of
Wight, the old Danish quarters, which the adhesion of the Danish fleet
now made the only part of his lost realm accessible to the English
King.[713] He there [Sidenote: Æthelred takes refuge in Normandy.
January, 1014.] kept the feast of Christmas, and in January he joined
his wife and his young children in Normandy, where his brother-in-law
Duke Richard could hardly refuse him an honourable welcome. We seem to
be reading the history of James the Second before its time. Eadric,
according to some accounts,[714] had already gone over with the Lady. Of
Æthelred’s sons by his first marriage, the gallant Æthelings Æthelstan
and Eadwig and their glorious brother Eadmund, we hear nothing. As far
as we can see, Swegen was the one acknowledged King over the whole
realm. If the West-Saxon banner was anywhere displayed, it could have
been only on the masts of Thurkill and his sea-rovers. During the whole
winter, Swegen on his side, and Thurkill on his, levied contributions
and ravaged the land at pleasure.[715]
§ 5. _From the Conquest of England by Swegen to the Death of Æthelred._
1013–1016.
[Sidenote: Importance of Swegen’s Conquest as introductory to William’s
Conquest.]
This conquest of England by Swegen forms an important stage in our
history. It was, for the moment at least, the completion of the Danish
invasions in their third and final shape of actual Danish conquest. And
it was more than this. The Danish conquest by Swegen was, so to speak,
the precedent for the Norman Conquest by William. Swegen’s own
possession of England was indeed but momentary; but he at least held the
kingdom as long as he lived, and he handed on his mission to his son.
The result of Swegen’s invasion showed that the crown of England, of
England so lately united into a single kingdom, could be transferred by
the event of war from the brow of a native sovereign to that of a
foreign invader. It was Swegen’s conquest which made the conquests both
of Cnut and of William possible. Cnut’s conquest was of course only the
completion of Swegen’s. It was Swegen who conceived the idea, and
[Sidenote: Distinction between Swegen’s Conquest and the earlier Danish
invasions.] who actually for the first time carried it out. That idea
was something very different from anything which had been set before the
eyes of any earlier Scandinavian invader. Hitherto England had been
largely ravaged, and had even been partly occupied. But mere ravages
were in their own nature temporary; and the Danes who had settled in
England had been gradually brought into a greater or less degree of
submission to the English King, into a greater or less degree of
amalgamation with the English people. The third stage of the Danish
wars, that which had now for a moment accomplished its object, aimed at
something of quite another kind. It sought, as I have before shown,[716]
not merely to ravage or even to occupy, but to transfer the crown of all
England, the rule of all its inhabitants, English and Danish alike, into
the hands of the King of all Denmark. This object Swegen had now
accomplished. Succeeding events indeed called for the work to be done
over again by his son Cnut. But the example was set; the establishment
of a foreign King in England, his willing or unwilling acknowledgement
by the English nation, were things which had now become familiar. What
Swegen had done Cnut might do, and [Sidenote: Circumstances in favour of
Swegen,] what Cnut had done William might do. Swegen now, like William
afterwards, was singularly favoured by fortune. But the good luck of the
two invaders took quite different shapes. Swegen found an incapable
prince on the throne, under whom no effective resistance was possible.
He was thus able to wear out the strength and spirit of the nation by a
series of successful, though partial, attacks. He was thus able, at the
end of a long series of years, to obtain possession of the whole land
without ever having put his forces to the risk of a decisive engagement.
[Sidenote: and of William.] William found a hero on the throne; he had
therefore, at the very beginning, to stake all his chances on a single
battle. But in that single battle England lost her hero, and with him
she lost her hope. Swegen and William were thus equally lucky, but
William ran a far more [Sidenote: Character of Swegen.] terrible hazard.
Swegen is apt to be forgotten in a cursory view of English history,
because he is overshadowed by the fame of his son. But Swegen was no
ordinary man. If greatness consists in mere skill and stedfastness in
carrying out an object, without regard to the moral character of that
object, he may even be called a great man.[717] His purpose was
doubtless fixed from the beginning; but he knew how to bide his time,
how to mark and to seize his opportunities. Of that species of glory
which is won by steady and skilful destruction of one’s
fellow-creatures, the glory of an Attila or a Buonaparte, the first
Danish conqueror of England is entitled to a large share. Of the high
and generous purposes which well nigh justify the ambition of Alexander
and of Charles, even of that higher craft of the ruler which goes some
way to redeem the crimes of the Norman Conqueror, we see no trace in his
career. He was so constantly occupied in aggressive warfare that he had
hardly time to show himself as a beneficent prince, even in his native
kingdom, and in England, if he had the will, he never had the
opportunity, of showing himself in any light but that of a barbarian
destroyer.
Swegen then was King—or, as the national writers prefer to call him,
Tyrant[718]—over all England. But it [Sidenote: Death of Swegen.
February 3, 1014.] was only for a very short time that he enjoyed his
ill-gotten dominion. Early in the year after his conquest, about the
feast of Candlemas, he died at Gainsborough. The Danish writers bear
witness to the Christianity of [Sidenote: His religion.] his later
years. During one of his seasons of adversity, he was won back again to
the faith from which he had apostatized; he became a zealous believer, a
founder of churches and bishoprics. But the German and English writers
seem to know nothing of his piety or of his reconversion, unless indeed
the denial of the claims of one particular Christian saint can be held
to be evidence of [Sidenote: Legend of the death of Swegen.] Christian
belief in general. That denial, we are told, was punished by a strange
and horrible death. For such an enemy as Swegen could hardly be allowed
to go out of the world without some accompaniment of wonder and miracle.
For once the discreetest of our Latin chroniclers opens his pages for
the reception of a legend. Swegen, he tells us, had a special hatred for
the martyred [Sidenote: 870.] King Saint Eadmund, the famous victim of
Danish cruelty at an earlier time. He denied him all power and holiness;
he demanded a heavy tribute from his renowned minster; he threatened, if
it were not paid, to burn the town and the townsfolk, to destroy the
minster, and to put the clergy[719] to death by torture. All this is
likely enough; we can well believe that Swegen did thus threaten the
church of Saint Eadmund, and that he died suddenly while preparing to
set out to carry out his threats. The special reverence which Swegen’s
son Cnut showed to Saint Eadmund almost amounts to a proof that his
father was held to have specially sinned against that martyr. Swegen had
held an assembly of some kind which most likely passed for a Witenagemót
of his new realm.[720] He was on his horse, at the head of his army,
seemingly on the point of beginning his march from Gainsborough to the
threatened minster. He then saw, visible to his eyes only, the holy King
of the East-Angles coming against him in full harness and with a spear
in his hand. “Help,” he cried, “fellow-soldiers, Saint Eadmund is coming
to slay me.” The saint then ran him through with his spear, and the
tyrant fell from his horse, and died the same night in horrible
torments.[721] This is a legend of the simplest class. If Swegen died
just as he was about to wreak his sacrilegious wrath on Saint Eadmund’s
minster, his sudden death would naturally be attributed to the vengeance
of Saint Eadmund. The details of the legend are nothing more than a
poetical way of expressing this supposed fact. Swegen thus ended his
days;[722] as to the fate of his soul our authorities differ [Sidenote:
Swegen’s body taken to Denmark.] widely.[723] But the body of the
departed tyrant is said to have been taken to Denmark, and buried at
Roskild, so long the place of coronation and burial of the Danish Kings.
By the death of Swegen his two kingdoms of Denmark and England became
vacant. In Denmark he was succeeded by his son Harold, a prince whose
name has passed altogether out of English, and almost out of Danish,
history. His reign was short; we are told that he was deposed by his
subjects on account of his sloth and luxury.[724] But that he, and not
Cnut, was in actual possession [Sidenote: Swegen succeeded in Denmark by
Harold. 1014.] of the Danish crown for some time after their father’s
death there seems no reason to doubt. As for the English crown, the
crews of the Danish fleet assumed [Sidenote: Double election in England;
CNUT chosen by the Danish fleet.] the right of disposing of it, and
elected Swegen’s other son Cnut, who was present at Gainsborough. This
prince, afterwards so famous, was now a stripling of about
nineteen,[725] and the English, who had bowed to his father, had no mind
to bow to him without a struggle. The Witan, [Sidenote: The English
Witan decree the restoration of Æthelred.] clerical and lay, assembled
in due form, and voted, not the election of one of the Æthelings, but
the restoration of Æthelred. The words of the formal documents exchanged
between the Witan and the absent King peep out in the language of the
Chronicles. They sent to say that no lord could be dearer to them than
their _cyne-hlaford_—their lord by birth—if he would only rule them more
righteously than he did before.[726] Æthelred then sent over
ambassadors, accompanied by young Eadward, his son by Emma—the nobler
offspring of his [Sidenote: Interchange of messages between Æthelred and
the Witan.] first marriage are again unnoticed. He promised by their
mouths to be good lord to his people, to amend all that had been wrong
in his former reign, to forgive all that had been said and done against
him, if only they would be faithful and obedient to him. Another version
adds the very important engagement that he would submit in all things to
the advice of his Witan.[727] Promises were thus exchanged on both
sides; Æthelred was again [Sidenote: Outlawry of all Danish Kings.]
acknowledged, and a decree was passed proclaiming every Danish King an
outlaw from England.[728] The expression [Sidenote: Import of the
expression.] is singular, unless we look at it in connexion with the
actual acknowledgement of Swegen as King. We can hardly conceive a
proclamation of outlawry against a foreign invader, if he were a mere
foreign invader and nothing else. But if we look on Cnut as a son of the
late King and a candidate for the crown, his outlawry by the opposing
party is natural enough. Nor is all this a mere legal subtlety. Cnut
then, like William afterwards, was fully aware of the advantage of
getting, as far as he could, every legal form on his side.
[Sidenote: Æthelred’s return and legislation. Lent, 1014.]
In the course of Lent Æthelred came back to England, and met with a
joyful welcome in London. It was most likely in a Gemót held on his
return that the King and his Witan passed the laws which bear the date
of this year.[729] They relate mainly to ecclesiastical matters, but
they contain the same pious and patriotic resolutions as the codes of
former years, and they also contain some clauses of a special and
remarkable kind. They expressly approve the conduct of certain earlier
assemblies, held under Æthelstan, [Sidenote: Illustration of the
relation of Church and State.] Eadmund, and Eadgar, which dealt with
ecclesiastical and temporal affairs conjointly, and they seem to deplore
a separation between the two branches of legislation which had taken
place in some later assemblies.[730] It is not very easy to understand
the grounds of this complaint, as in most of the earlier statutes of
Æthelred’s reign we certainly find both classes of subjects dealt with.
But, whatever was the immediate ground of censure, the expression is
remarkable, as illustrating a whole class of feelings which were
peculiarly strong in that age, and which afterwards lost [Sidenote:
Identification of the Church and the Nation before the Norman Conquest.]
much of their power. Under our native Kings the Church and the nation
were far more truly one than they were at any time after the Norman
Conquest. The nation was deeply religious; the Church was deeply
national. The same assemblies and tribunals dealt alike with
ecclesiastical and with temporal affairs, without the least idea that
either power had thrust itself into the proper province of the other.
Bishops and Ealdormen were appointed and deposed by the same authority;
they sat side by side to judge and to legislate on matters which, after
the Norman Conquest, would have been discussed in distinct assemblies.
The laws of this year again proclaim that one God and one King is to be
loved and obeyed, that heathenism and treason are alike to be eschewed;
that all moral duties are to be discharged by one countryman to another.
Such is the general summary of the last recorded legislation of
Æthelred, conceived in exactly the same tone as the laws of earlier
assemblies.
The spirit which breathes in the decrees of the assembly breathes also
in a remarkable specimen of the pious oratory of the age, namely the
famous address of Archbishop Wulfstan to the English nation.[731]
Somewhat of exaggeration is always to be looked for in compositions of
this kind, but, after making all allowances, we find a frightful picture
both of national wretchedness and of national corruption. Since the days
of Eadgar everything had gone wrong; sacrilege and unjust judgements,
lust and rapine, the neglect of every natural and artificial tie, had
stalked unpunished through the land. One King had been murdered; another
had been driven into banishment. The abuses of the slave-trade are
specially noticed; men even went so far as to sell their nearest
kinsfolk. The English, in short, had become worse than the Britons whom
they had conquered, even as the Britons were painted by their own
Gildas. For all this the judgement of God had come upon the land; the
enemy wrought his will upon England without let or hindrance; ten
Englishmen would flee before one of the invaders; the last excesses of
cruelty and outrage had to be endured without resistance. The speaker
exhorts to repentance and amendment; he speaks indeed only of repentance
and amendment, and says nothing of the human means of valour and
counsel; otherwise one might conceive that the address was in fact a
speech delivered in the Gemót which passed the laws of this year.
[Sidenote: Æthelred marches against Cnut and drives him out of
Lindesey.]
The nation now seemed to be thoroughly kindled with the spirit expressed
in the discourse of the Primate and in the resolutions of the Witan. And
for one moment the burst of patriotism reached even to the King. For the
first and the last time during his long reign, we see Æthelred engaged
in righteous and successful warfare.[732] Cnut was still at
Gainsborough, where he had agreed with the men of Lindesey, a district
in which the Danish element was large, to furnish him with horses and to
join him in a plundering expedition. But before they were ready,
Æthelred came up with his full force, and drove Cnut away to his ships.
The defeat must have been decisive, as Cnut sailed away altogether from
that part of England,[733] and steered his course southwards to
Sandwich. [Sidenote: Cnut mutilates his hostages.] There he put on shore
the hostages who had been given to his father from all parts of England,
having first subjected them to various mutilations, as the loss of
hands, ears, and noses. He then sailed away to Denmark. Æthelred had
thus for once shown real spirit and vigour, and had done a real service
to his country. For a moment England [Sidenote: Æthelred ravages
Lindesey.] was free from the invaders. But the King disgraced his
victory by ravaging Lindesey—no doubt in revenge for its submission to
Cnut—as cruelly as Swegen or Cnut could have done. The land was harried
with fire and sword, and the people, as far as might be, were
slaughtered. [Sidenote: Payment to Thurkill’s fleet.] Lastly, the King
levied a tribute of twenty-one thousand or, as some say, thirty
thousand,[734] pounds, for the payment of Thurkill’s fleet which still
lay at Greenwich. This fleet, which had so lately been Æthelred’s sole
refuge, remained in his service.[735]
[Sidenote: Great inroad of the sea.]
In the same year, as if to illustrate the law that political and natural
misfortunes generally come together, the [Sidenote: 1014.] sea—in what
part of England we are not told—broke in upon the land, and swallowed up
many towns and a countless multitude of people.[736]
[Sidenote: Great Witenagemót at Oxford. 1015.]
In the next year we again come across the name of the infamous Eadric,
of whom we have so often heard before, and who now begins a new career
of treason even viler and more fatal than anything that has hitherto
been recorded of him. On the other hand we have now reached the
beginning of the short and glorious career of the hero [Sidenote: First
appearance of the Ætheling Eadmund.] Eadmund. This prince seems to have
been the third son of Æthelred;[737] one at least of his elder brothers
seems to have died before him; but, if he was not the eldest of the
royal house by birth, he soon won for himself the first place by merit.
A great Witenagemót was held this year at Oxford, a city whose renown as
the seat of a great University belongs to later times, but which the
whole course of these wars shows to have been already a place of
[Sidenote: History of Oxford.] considerable importance. Its importance
however would seem to have been comparatively recent. The well-known
legend of Saint Frithswyth[738] cannot be accepted as historical; but it
may be taken as some presumption that Oxford had already become a
habitation for man early in the eighth century. But there is no certain
historical mention of the place till the early years of the tenth
century, [Sidenote: 912.] when it appears as one of the chief
acquisitions of Eadward the Elder. As it was a frontier town of Mercia
and Wessex, we might have expected to find it playing a historic part in
far earlier days; but in those times the now utterly insignificant
Bensington[739] seems to have been the chief military post of the
frontier. So the now no less insignificant Dorchester was the
ecclesiastical capital of a vast diocese, of which the diocese of
Oxford, as it stood before recent changes, formed only a small portion.
Oxford however was now a place of note; in the new nomenclature of
Mercia it had given its name to a shire; and it must have derived some
further importance from the presence of the minster which bore the name
of the heroine of the local legend. That minster, after an unusual
number of changes in its foundation, has at last settled down into the
twofold office of the cathedral church of the modern diocese and the
chapel of the largest college in the University. The town is mentioned
in several charters of the tenth century, one of which, as we have seen,
records the burning of the minster in the general massacre of the
Danes.[740] It had [Sidenote: 1009–1013.] been, as the course of our
story has told us, taken, retaken, and burned in the wars of Swegen. In
this year the town, so lately rebuilt after its burning, was the scene
of an assembly which was evidently attended by a more than usually
numerous body of the Wise Men.[741] Eadric was now guilty of a crime of
the same kind as that by which [Sidenote: 1007.] he destroyed Ealdorman
Ælfhelm at Shrewsbury nine [Sidenote: Murder of Sigeferth and Morkere by
Eadric.] years before. Among the assembled Witan were Sigeferth and
Morkere, the sons of Earngrim, two of the chief thegns in the Danish
Confederacy of the Seven Boroughs.[742] These chiefs were invited by
Eadric to his own quarters,[743] where he slew them at a banquet.
Æthelred, if he had not ordered this villany, at any rate made himself
an accessory after the fact; he confiscated the property of the murdered
thegns, and ordered Ealdgyth, the widow of Sigeferth, to be led as a
prisoner to Malmesbury. All this would seem to imply some co-operation
on the part of the Witan; it may even imply some real guilt in Eadric’s
victims; but it in no way lessens the guilt of Eadric and Æthelred. When
such things were done, we can understand that men may have thought the
rule of the Dane at least not worse than the rule of such Englishmen. A
gleam of romance now flashes across the [Sidenote: Marriage of Eadmund
and Ealdgyth.] dreary tale of crime and misfortune.[744] The Ætheling
Eadmund had seen the fair widow of Sigeferth, and was smitten with a
sudden passion for her. There was no time to be lost; he followed her to
her retreat and married her against the will of his father.[745] The
marriage was not without political consequences. Eadmund seems to have
looked upon himself, and to have been looked upon by his wife, as the
lawful heir of her former husband. Possibly the wealth and dignities of
Sigeferth, or some part of them, may have come through his marriage. At
any rate Eadmund, at Ealdgyth’s suggestion, demanded the lordships of
Sigeferth from his father,[746] and was refused. [Sidenote: His
establishment in the Five Boroughs. August, 1015.] He then went to the
Five Boroughs, took possession of the estates of Sigeferth and Morkere,
and received the submission of the men of the confederacy.[747] He thus
secured for himself a kind of principality in the North of England, a
fact which, in the war which was about again to break out, led to some
singular inversions of the usual military geography.
For Cnut had sailed away to Denmark only to sail back to England on the
first opportunity.[748] He is said to have proposed to his brother
Harold, the reigning King, to make a division of Denmark and to share in
a joint expedition to England.[749] The former proposal at least was
rejected; whether Harold accompanied his brother to England is less
certain;[750] but in any case he was utterly overshadowed by the fame of
Cnut, and he soon vanishes from history altogether. According to one
account, the voyage was undertaken at the express suggestion of
Thurkill, who sailed to Denmark and there made his peace with Cnut.[751]
Thurkill was certainly on Cnut’s side in the war of the next year; he
may have thought himself absolved from his duty to Æthelred by that
prince’s flight; but on the whole it is more likely [Sidenote: Cnut
invades England. Summer, 1015.] that his change of sides happened later.
At any rate, Cnut set sail with a fleet whose numbers are variously
stated at two hundred ships[752] and at a thousand,[753] and of whose
stateliness we read as brilliant an account as of those of his father.
Moreover we are told that the whole of the crews consisted of men of
noble birth in the flower of their age.[754] With this splendid company,
Cnut sailed first to Sandwich, and thence steered along the south coast
to Fromemouth; that is to the harbour of Poole and Wareham, the common
mouth of the Dorsetshire [Sidenote: He ravages Wessex.] Frome and the
Dorsetshire Trent. He then harried the shires of Somerset, Dorset, and
Wiltshire, while King Æthelred lay sick at Corsham in the last-named
shire. The Ætheling Eadmund now began to levy an army in his new
principality,[755] and Eadric seemingly did the same in his old Mercian
government. But the traitor was still [Sidenote: Plans of Eadmund
hindered by Eadric.] at his old tricks. When the two divisions came
together, Eadric made several attempts to destroy his brother-in-law,
the result of which was that the two armies separated, [Sidenote: Eadric
rebels, seduces the Danish fleet, and joins Cnut.] leaving the field
open to the enemy. Eadric now openly rebelled; he seduced the crews of
forty Danish ships in the royal service, those doubtless which were left
from Thurkill’s fleet, and joined Cnut. This may have been the time when
Thurkill himself took service under his native prince. Or it may have
been after Æthelred’s death and the election of Cnut by a large body of
the English Witan.[756] In the latter case, at all events, his
allegiance to his old master was no longer binding; the war between Cnut
and Eadmund might seem to him a struggle between two candidates for the
English crown, in which he, as a Dane, might honourably take the side of
the candidate of his own nation.
This defection of Eadric—perhaps of Thurkill—settled [Sidenote: Wessex
submits to Cnut.] the fate of Southern England. All Wessex now submitted
to the invader; hostages were given and horses were furnished. The
kingdom was now practically divided; but—owing mainly to the romantic
marriage and settlement of Eadmund—it was divided in a manner exactly
opposite from that which might have been naturally looked for. The
Thames is, as usual, the boundary; but the English Ætheling reigns to
the north, the Danish King to the south, of that river; the Mercians and
Northumbrians are arrayed under the Dragon of Wessex, while the
West-Saxons themselves serve, however unwillingly, under the Danish
Raven. On these strange terms the war began again early in the next
year, the last year of [Sidenote: Cnut and Eadric invade Mercia.
January, 1016.] this long struggle. Just before the Epiphany, Cnut and
Eadric, with their mixed force of Danes and West-Saxons, crossed the
Thames at Cricklade,[757] and entered Mercia. They harried Warwickshire
in the usual fashion, ravaging, [Sidenote: Vain attempts of Eadmund to
keep an army together.] burning, slaying, as they went. The Ætheling now
gathered an army in Mercia, but his troops refused to fight, unless King
Æthelred and the Londoners joined them. The army then dispersed in the
wonderful way in which armies did disperse in those days. Presently the
Ætheling put forth proclamations, summoning every man to join his
standard, and denouncing the full penalties of the law against all who
held back.[758] By these means he gathered a larger army; he then sent
to his father, who was in London, praying him to join him with whatever
forces he could gather. Æthelred did so, and joined his son’s muster
with a considerable body of troops. But the old ill luck was at work;
the only thing that can be said is that Æthelred was most likely dragged
to the field from his death-bed. The two divisions had hardly joined
when the King found out, or professed to find out, treacherous plots
against his person. These he made an excuse for disbanding the whole
army and going back to London. [Sidenote: Eadmund and Uhtred join
forces.] With such a King what could be done? Eadmund withdrew to
Northumberland, the government of his brother-in-law Uhtred. That Earl,
it will be remembered, had been, to say the least, somewhat hasty in
submitting to [Sidenote: [1013.]] Swegen, but he now gladly joined
Eadmund. All men deemed that the Ætheling would raise a third army in
[Sidenote: Ravages of the two armies.] Northumberland, and would march
against Cnut. But he and Uhtred contented themselves with ravaging three
Mercian shires which had refused to help them against the Danes,[759]
namely Staffordshire, Shropshire, and Cheshire. Cnut meanwhile went
plundering on his side through the shires of Buckingham, Bedford,
Huntingdon, Northampton, then by Stamford, through Lincolnshire and
Nottinghamshire, on towards York. The ravaging of his country and the
danger of his capital caused Uhtred to [Sidenote: Northumberland under
Uhtred submits to Cnut.] cease his own ravages and to hasten homewards.
He found further resistance useless;[760] he submitted to Cnut and gave
hostages. The Dane was now again lord of all England,[761] save only
London and whatever extent of country could be held in obedience from
London. But now the vengeance of the old feud came upon Uhtred.
Thurbrand, whom he had before engaged and omitted to [Sidenote: Murder
of Uhtred.] kill, was now allowed to kill him. As Uhtred came to pay his
homage to his new prince at a place called Wiheal, a curtain was drawn
aside, and armed men stepped forward, who slew the Earl and forty of his
companions, among whom one Thurcytel son of Navena is specially
mentioned.[762] This evil deed also was attributed to Eadric, [Sidenote:
Eric made Earl of the Northumbrians.] the common author of all evil. The
earldom of Northumberland was given by Cnut to a Dane named Eric, who
had married his sister Gytha, and had held the government of Norway
under Swegen.[763] But it seems that Eadwulf Cutel, the brother of the
murdered Uhtred, either was allowed to hold Bernicia under the supremacy
of Eric, or else succeeded to the whole when Eric was banished some
years later. The whole North was thus lost; it was again as thoroughly
under Danish rule as it had been before the conquests of Eadward. And,
worse still, Wessex was under Danish rule too, and it had even outrun
Northumberland in its submission. But London still held out; Cnut
therefore hastened to subdue the last stronghold of the national life.
Events had followed fast upon one another. Christmas had passed before
Cnut crossed the [Sidenote: Cnut prepares to attack London.] Thames, and
Easter had not come when he crossed it again. He hastened with all speed
to his fleet in the Dorset haven, and prepared to sail with his whole
force against the still faithful city. Eadmund, either now or
earlier,[764] hastened to join his father in its defence. Cnut was on
his voyage, but he seems to have gone more leisurely than might have
been expected after the speed [Sidenote: Death of Æthelred. April 23,
1016.] of his march from Yorkshire.[765] He had only reached
Southampton, when tidings were brought of the death of Æthelred. He died
on Saint George’s day, probably of the same sickness of which we read
the year before, and was buried in Saint Paul’s Minster.
§ 6. _The War of Cnut and Eadmund._ 1016.
The throne was now again vacant; England was at last set free from the
worst and weakest of her native Kings. Æthelred had misgoverned his
kingdom till the rule of heathen invaders was felt to be at least not
worse than his. He had been deposed and driven out; his kingdom had been
reduced to the decks of a few hired Danish ships. He had been restored;
adversity had wrought no lasting reform; he had thrown away every
advantage, and his kingdom was again confined within the walls of
London. That true-hearted city was once more the bulwark of England, the
centre of every patriotic hope, the special object of every hostile
attack. Beyond its walls, all was either actually in the hands of the
invader or exposed to his power. The Witan of England, Bishops, Abbots,
Ealdormen, [Sidenote: Double election to the crown of Cnut and Eadmund.
April, 1016.] Thegns, all who were without the walls of London, met in
full Gemót, and chose Cnut to the vacant throne. They may well have
deemed that further resistance was hopeless, and it should not be
forgotten that the full glory of the character of Eadmund had not yet
displayed itself. He had shown a gallant spirit, but he had as yet
achieved no signal success; the harrying of the three Mercian shires
was, to say the least, a very harsh measure; and he may have shown
somewhat of turbulence and self-will in the affair of his marriage and
settlement in the Five Boroughs. The assembly therefore passed him by;
they chose—perhaps they could hardly help choosing—the Conqueror; they
hastened to Southampton, they abjured the whole house of Æthelred, they
swore oaths to Cnut and received oaths from him that he would be a good
and faithful lord to them before God and before the world. It was
perhaps at this time that he received baptism or confirmation at the
hands of Æthelnoth the future Archbishop; but he does not seem to have
received the ecclesiastical rite of coronation.[766] And even his
election did not represent the voice of all England. We now meet with,
what is so common in German, and so rare in English, history, a double
election to the crown. Cnut was chosen at Southampton, but the citizens
of London, with such of the other Witan as were within the city, held a
counter Gemót—no doubt the earlier of the two in date—and with one
voice[767] elected the Ætheling Eadmund. His coronation at the hands of
Archbishop Lyfing followed. The town which had been of late the usual
place for the consecration of Kings, Kingston in Surrey, was probably in
possession of the enemy; at all events the rite was done within the
walls of the city, no doubt in the minster of Saint Paul, where the late
King had just been buried. Whether Eadmund was the eldest surviving son
of Æthelred is uncertain;[768] there could be no doubt as to [Sidenote:
Short and glorious reign of Eadmund.] his being the worthiest. Now,
after the long and dreary reign of his father, England had once more at
her head a true King of Men, a hero worthy to wield the sword of Ælfred
and Æthelstan. The change came at once; with her new King England
received a new life; after twenty-eight [Sidenote: 988–1016.] years of
unutterable weakness and degradation, we now come to seven months of
almost superhuman energy. [Sidenote: Change wrought by a single worthy
leader.] We see that all that had been wanting through that long and
wretched time was a worthy leader; we see that, without such a leader,
the English people were helpless; we see that, under such a leader, even
after all that they had gone through, they were still capable of
exertions which, twenty or even ten years before, would have driven back
the invaders for ever. Everything that could weaken and demoralize a
people, everything that could thoroughly weigh down and dishearten them,
had fallen on the English nation during the long misgovernment of
Æthelred. A generation had grown up which had been used from its
childhood to see invaders land and ravage at pleasure. They had seen the
noblest local efforts thwarted by incompetence and treachery at
head-quarters. They had seen a King and his counsellors incapable of any
better device than that of buying off the heathen invader for a moment.
They had seen the strength of the nation, while the enemy was preying on
its vitals, wasted on distant, bootless, and unrighteous enterprises.
They had seen the basest of traitors basking in the royal smiles, while
the true and valiant defenders of their country were left unrewarded and
unnoticed. Such had been the unvaried course of English history for
eight and twenty years. But, even after all this, the heart of the
English people still was sound. The wretched Æthelred had ended his
days, and under his glorious son hope and courage woke to life again. In
the days of the father, one shire would no longer help another; in the
days of the son, the most distant parts of the land sent their
contingents to the national armies of England. Those armies, instead of
flying at the first blow, instead of disbanding before a blow was
struck, could now face the enemy in pitched battle after pitched battle.
The standard of England again waved over fields on which the English
arms were often crowned with victory, and where defeat at least never
was disgrace. Once only in the course of his long reign had Æthelred
dared to meet a Danish King in open fight. Now six great battles in
seven months showed what Englishmen could still do under a King worthy
of his people. The year of the battles of Eadmund is worthy to
[Sidenote: 871.] be placed alongside of the year of the battles of
Ælfred. But the traitor still lived to thwart the noblest efforts of the
hero; Eadric still remained the evil genius of the reign of Eadmund no
less than of the reign of his father.
[Sidenote: Eadmund acknowledged in Wessex.]
Eadmund, surnamed Ironside,[769] was now King in London; but Cnut, by
virtue both of his election and of military possession, was King over at
least the whole of Wessex, Mercia, and Northumberland. The first act of
Eadmund was to go forth from London to try to win back the immediate
realm of his forefathers, the kingdom of the West-Saxons. He was at once
acknowledged, and English troops flocked to him from all quarters.[770]
Meanwhile the rival King, having received the homage of the Witan at
Southampton, continued his voyage towards London. He [Sidenote: Cnut
besieges London, May 7, 1016.] halted at Greenwich,[771] and prepared to
form the siege of the city. The course of the ships up the river was
checked by the bridge—a wooden forerunner, no doubt, of that London
bridge which lasted down to our own times, and which was no doubt made
the most of as part of the defences of the city. But Cnut dug a deep
ditch to the south of the river, so that the ships evaded the obstacle,
and sailed round to the west side of the bridge.[772] He then dug
another ditch round that part of the city which was not washed by the
Thames, so that London was again hemmed in on every side. But every
attempt on the walls was again baffled by the valour of the citizens,
and at last Cnut found it more to his interest to check the progress of
his rival in the West than to go on with an [Sidenote: He raises the
siege.] undertaking which seemed utterly hopeless. He raised the siege,
and marched after Eadmund. The English King was now collecting troops on
the borders of the three shires of Somerset, Wiltshire, and Dorset. Cnut
had followed so fast that Eadmund had had time to gather only a small
force; still he did not fear to meet the enemy in battle.[773] The
armies met at a point near the border of the three shires, but just
within the bounds of Somerset, on the edge of the high ground covered by
the forest of Selwood. The place is spoken of as the Pens, a Celtic name
which describes the lofty position of the ground, and which is
appropriately found in the immediate neighbourhood of large traces of
præ-Teutonic [Sidenote: _First battle_, at Pen Selwood; victory of
Eadmund.] antiquity.[774] Here, on a spot which perhaps had been the
scene of West-Saxon victories over an earlier enemy, did Eadmund, with
his small force, formed mainly no doubt of the levies of the district,
venture to give battle to the tried troops of his rival. He put his
trust in God; he boldly attacked the enemy, and he defeated [Sidenote:
_Second battle_, at Sherstone (July 1016); victory doubtful.] him.
Eadmund then collected a larger army, and on Monday in July[775] he
again engaged the enemy in another border district, at Sherstone in
Wiltshire, just on the marches of Wessex and Mercia. Of this battle
fuller details have been preserved. The eastern shires of Wessex were in
the possession of Cnut, so that the men of Hampshire and part of
Wiltshire fought on the Danish side. With the Danes also were, not only
the traitor Eadric, but at least two other English Ealdormen, Ælfmær,
surnamed Darling,[776] and Ælfgar the son of Meaw. With Eadmund were the
men of Devonshire, Dorset, and part of Wiltshire—those of Somerset are
not mentioned, but they can hardly fail to have been on the English
side. At any rate, while the pure Saxons of Hampshire were arrayed on
the side of Cnut, the army of Eadmund must have largely consisted of men
of Welsh descent. The King placed his best troops[777]—no doubt mainly
his own followers—in front, and the inferior part of his army in the
rear. He exhorted them in a speech setting forth the motives obvious at
such a time, and led them to the place of action. The trumpets sounded;
the battle began; the javelins were hurled at the onset, and the close
combat was still carried on, as at Maldon, with the sword.[778] King
Eadmund fought in the front rank, doing the duty alike of a general and
of a private soldier.[779] The two hosts fought for a whole day, without
any marked advantage on either side. The next day the fight began again;
the English had now plainly the better, when a new act of treachery on
the part of Eadric for a while threw their ranks into disorder. Smiting
off the head of a man whose features were much like those of the English
King, he held it up, calling on the host of Eadmund to flee. The English
wavered, and some were on the point of flight, when Eadmund, like
William at Senlac, tore off his helmet, showed himself alive to his
army, and hurled a spear at Eadric. He unluckily missed the traitor, and
slew another soldier who was near him.[780] The English then took heart
again; they attacked the Danes with still greater vigour, and kept up
the battle till twilight, when the two hosts again separated. Neither
side had gained any decided success; neither host, it would seem, kept
possession of the place of slaughter. But if neither side could claim
the formal honours of victory, the practical advantage was [Sidenote:
Cnut again besieges London.] clearly on the side of the English. For in
the night Cnut marched stealthily away from his camp, went back to his
ships, and again began the siege of London. Eadmund [Sidenote: Eadmund
reconciled with Eadric.] then crossed into Wessex to gather fresh
troops; and now his faithless brother-in-law Eadric came to him, as to
his natural lord,[781] made his peace with him, and swore oaths of
future fidelity. Eadmund, unconquered by the arms of Cnut, was not proof
against the kind of warfare in which Eadric was so skilful. The hero had
the weakness again to admit the traitor to his favour and confidence.
[Sidenote: Eadmund wins the _third battle_, and delivers London; he] At
the head of his new troops,[782] Eadmund marched towards London, and in
a third battle he drove the Danes to raise the siege and go back to
their ships. Two [Sidenote: then wins the _fourth battle_, at
Brentford.] days afterwards he fought his fourth battle at Brentford,
where the Danes were again defeated, but many of the English were lost
in trying to ford the river without due heed. Eadmund now returned to
Wessex to gather [Sidenote: Cnut besieges London in vain the third
time.] fresh troops, and meanwhile Cnut sat down, for the third time
within these few months, before London. The city was again attacked on
every side; but again all attacks by land and by water were in vain.
Almighty God, say the Chroniclers, saved the city.
[Sidenote: Great plundering expedition of the Danes.]
King Eadmund was now gathering a greater force than ever from all parts
of England.[783] Meanwhile the Danes, finding all their attempts on
London fruitless, set out on a plundering expedition on a great scale.
They sailed away from London, they coasted along the shores of Essex;
they then entered the Orwell, and thence they marched across East-Anglia
and spread themselves over Mercia, plundering, burning, slaying,
according to their wont. Then, gorged with plunder, those who were on
foot went back to their ships, and sailed up the Medway, the fierce and
swift-flowing stream which washed the fair walls of Rochester.[784]
Those who had horses seemed to have reached the same trysting-place by
land. But King Eadmund followed them with his fourth army, which must
have been partly at least levied in Mercia, as he was [Sidenote: _Fifth
battle_, at Otford; victory of Eadmund.] now north of the Thames. He
crossed the river at Brentford, the scene of his last success, he
followed the Danes into Kent, met them at Otford, and gained an easy
victory. The Danes fled with their horses into Sheppey—the [Sidenote:
855.] corner of England in which a Danish host had first wintered.[785]
The King pressed on and slew as many as he could; but his evil genius
Eadric now again appeared [Sidenote: Further treasons of Eadric; he
saves the Danes from destruction.] in his old character. By the same
incomprehensible means of which we have so often heard, Eadmund was
hindered from following up his victory. The traitor contrived to detain
the King at Aylesford, and the Danish army was saved from utter
destruction.
The last act of this great drama was now drawing near. Since the end of
April, Eadmund had gathered four armies; he had fought five pitched
battles; he had been decidedly victorious in four of them, and he had,
to say the least, not been decidedly defeated in any. Never had the
efforts of one man been greater or more successful; Ælfred himself, in
his most hard-fought campaigns, had not worked for England with a truer
heart [Sidenote: Eadmund collects a fifth army from all England.] than
his valiant descendant. Eadmund again marched westward, he gathered a
fifth army, and made ready for a sixth battle. The war, which in the
beginning might have almost passed for a local struggle, had now become
thoroughly national. Cnut had now to fight, not against Wessex, but
against England, and there is nothing which leads us to think that he
now had any English followers under his banners. Eadmund’s new host was
gathered from all parts of England, even from districts whose
inhabitants were largely of Danish origin. We have no complete list of
the shires which sent contingents, but we incidentally find that men
came from districts as far apart from each other as Herefordshire,
East-Anglia, and Lindesey. The Danes meanwhile sailed along the coast of
Essex, and entered the estuary of the Crouch. There they left their
ships, while the army went on a plundering expedition into Mercia, which
is spoken of as being more fearful than any that had gone before it.
After this they returned towards their ships, the latter part of their
course leading them along the high ground [Sidenote: _Sixth_ and last
battle, at Assandun.] which lies south of the Crouch. Along these
heights Eadmund followed them, and at last overtook and engaged them in
the sixth and last battle of this wonderful year, the memorable fight of
Assandun.[786] At the end of the range, two hills of slight positive
height, but which seem lofty in the low lands of the East of England,
look down on the swampy plain watered by the tidal river. Between the
hills and this lowest ground lies a considerable level at an
intermediate height, which seems to have been the actual site of the
battle. Of the two hills one still keeps the name of Ashington, an easy
corruption of the ancient form, while the other, in its name of
Canewdon, perhaps preserves the memory of the Danish conqueror himself.
On Assandun then, a site marked by entrenchments which are perhaps
witnesses of that day’s fight, perhaps of yet earlier warfare, Eadmund
drew up his forces in three ranks, he made the speech usual before
action, and at first seemed disposed to await the attack of the
enemy.[787] The King took the post which immemorial usage fixed for a
royal general, between the two ensigns which were displayed over an
English army, the golden Dragon, the national ensign of Wessex, and the
Standard, seemingly the personal device of the King.[788] But Cnut had
no mind to attack; most likely he wished to avoid a battle altogether,
and merely sought to get back to his ships with his plunder. At all
events he had no mind to attack the English as long as they were posted
on a spot where the ground gave them the advantage. Yet the moment was
favourable for battle; the Raven fluttered her wings, and Thurkill,
overjoyed at the happy omen, called for immediate action.[789] But Cnut,
young as he was, was wary, and would fight only after his own fashion.
He gradually led his troops off the hills into the level ground,[790]
that is, the intermediate height between the hills and the swampy plain.
The main object of Eadmund was to cut off the Danes from their ships; he
had therefore no choice but to leave his strong post and to come down to
the lower ground. This movement differed from that of those English
troops at Senlac, who, in defiance of Harold’s orders, left the hill to
pursue the Normans in their real or pretended flight. At Senlac, in
withstanding horsemen, the one thing to be done was to keep the strong
post against all assaults; at Assandun, English and Danes, using much
the same tactics and the same weapons, could meet on equal terms on the
level ground. If Eadmund gave up the advantage of his strong position
for defence, he gained the advantage of the charge down hill for his
[Sidenote: First attack of the English.] attack. He accordingly began
the battle with a furious assault upon the Danes; he even forsook the
royal post, and, charging sword in hand in the front rank, he burst like
a thunderbolt upon the thickest of the enemy.[791] The Danes held their
ground manfully, and the fight was kept up with equal valour, and with
frightful slaughter, on both sides. But on the whole the Danes had the
worse, and they were beginning to give way, when Eadric again betrayed
his lord and King and all the people of English kin.[792] He was in
command of the Magesætas or men of Herefordshire and of the forces of
some other parts of his [Sidenote: Treacherous flight of Eadric.] old
earldom; at the head of these troops, according to a previous agreement
with Cnut, the English Ealdorman, the brother-in-law of the King, took
to flight. The battle however was kept up till sunset, and even by the
light of the moon; but, after the flight of Eadric, the English had to
maintain the struggle on very unequal terms. All England fought against
Cnut; but Cnut had the victory.[793] [Sidenote: Slaughter of the English
nobility.] The slaughter of the English nobility,[794] of the chief
leaders and of the King’s own following, was fearful. There died
Godwine, Ealdorman of Lindesey, wiping out, it may be, by a valiant
death the errors of an earlier stage of his life.[795] There died the
hero Ulfcytel, brave and faithful as ever; the first English leader who
had checked the career of Swegen, and who now ended his glorious life by
dying sword in hand in fight against the son of his old enemy.[796]
There died one of the many Ælfrics of our story, redeeming on this
hard-fought field the infamy which his more celebrated namesake had
brought upon his very name. There died one personally unknown to us, but
a scion of a house than which none has been more famous in our history,
the East-Anglian Æthelweard, the son of Æthelwine the Friend of
God.[797] And, in times like these, not only the temporal chiefs, but
Bishops and Abbots also, had not scrupled to take the field against the
invader. Wulfsige of Ramsey came with the heir of the great house to
which his monastery owed so much. Five and twenty years before he had
played the churl towards the host of Brihtnoth on its march to
Maldon.[798] Like Godwine of Lindesey, long years of national
wretchedness had brought him to a more patriotic frame of mind, and he
now, in his old age, came to give to his King and country such help as
his years and calling allowed him. Eadnoth of Dorchester,[799] once
Provost of Wulfsige’s minster, came, either through love of his old
companions or in the train of Godwine and the valiant men of his own
diocese. These holy men, we are told, came only to pray and not to
fight,[800] and in the case of the aged Wulfsige we may well believe
that it was so. But we cannot forget that other English prelates, before
and after, did not shrink from wearing weapons and commanding armies. We
have seen that, in this age, Archbishop Ælfric not only bequeathed ships
to his dioceses, but personally commanded fleets,[801] and it may well
be that the arm of Eadnoth, if not that of Wulfsige, was found as strong
as those of Ealhstan in an earlier, and of Ealdred in a later,
generation.[802] At all events, whether they came to pray or to fight,
the prelates met with no more mercy from [Sidenote: Victory of the
Danes.] the Danish sword than the lay chieftains. At last, under cover
of night, the King and the remnant of his army escaped; Eadmund
Ironside, for the first time in this year of battles, was a fugitive.
The Danes hardly dared to pursue; but they kept possession of the place
of slaughter. They tarried on the field all night; in the morning they
buried their own dead; they gathered the spoils of the slain English,
and left their bodies to the fowls of the air and to the beasts of the
land.[803] They then went to their ships and sailed towards London,[804]
most likely meaning to begin the siege a fourth time. When they were
gone, some of the scattered English ventured to return and carry off the
bodies of the slain leaders. Æthelweard and Wulfsige found an honourable
grave in their own church at Ramsey; the body of Eadnoth lay in the
rival minster of Ely, the resting-place of Brihtnoth.[805]
[Sidenote: Results of the battle.]
The real blow to England in this battle was the loss of so many of the
chief men whom it was hard to replace. This remarkable slaughter of the
nobility is emphatically pointed out in all our narratives,[806] and it
is not unlikely that it had a real political effect, like the cutting
off of the mediæval baronage in the Wars of the Roses. But as a mere
military success, Cnut’s victory at Assandun does not seem to have been
very decisive. At any rate, instead of being followed up by any vigorous
blow, it led only to a conference and a compromise between [Sidenote:
Eadmund prepares for a seventh battle.] the contending Kings. Neither
the spirit nor the resources of Eadmund were worn out. Indeed he seems
to have been readier than his rival to try his fate once more in a
seventh battle. As undaunted as ever, he made his way into
Gloucestershire, and there began gathering recruits for a new
campaign.[807] He seems to have been actually ready with a fresh army,
when Cnut, with his victorious host, came after him. But no battle took
place. Eadric—still, strange to say, in the King’s confidence—and the
other Witan who were with him, the relics of Assandun, persuaded
Eadmund, much against his will,[808] to consent to a conference and a
division of the kingdom. The two Kings drew near to the Severn from
opposite sides, Eadmund from the west, Cnut from [Sidenote: Conference
of Olney.] the east. They met in an island of the river, called
Olney,[809] to which the Kings were, seemingly together with chosen
witnesses,[810] rowed over from their several banks of the river. The
meeting was a friendly one; we can well believe that two such valiant
captains as Cnut and Eadmund might, in the course of their warfare,
conceive a real respect for each other. But, among the many great
qualities which Cnut, in after times, gradually developed out of his
original barbarism, this particular virtue of generosity towards
personal rivals is one of which we see few signs. Without imputing to
Cnut any actual treachery, we may feel sure that in this, as in most
other acts of his life, he was guided by policy rather than by
sentiment. Still, from whatever motives, the two Kings treated one
another with the utmost courtesy. [Sidenote: Division of the kingdom
between Eadmund and Cnut.] A division of the kingdom was the essential
principle of the treaty; the two Kings now agreed on details. They
settled the extent of their respective dominions, and also the amount of
money which, as a necessary consequence of any treaty with Danes, was to
be paid to the Danish fleet. They moreover swore oaths of friendship and
brotherhood, and, like the heroes of Homer,[811] they exchanged arms in
token of mutual good will.[812] The terms of the treaty, indeed the fact
of Cnut’s consenting to any treaty at all, show how formidable the power
of Eadmund must still have seemed. The Imperial dignity remained to the
English King, who, unlike his rival, was already a King in the fullest
sense of the word, a King crowned and anointed. With this over-lordship
of the whole realm, Eadmund kept the immediate dominion of all England
south of the Thames, together with East-Anglia, Essex, and London. Cnut
took the remainder, the larger portion of the kingdom. As compared with
the division between Ælfred and Guthrum, the dominions of Eadmund were
larger on one side and smaller on another. Eadmund gained Essex and
East-Anglia, which, in the earlier division, fell to the lot of the
Danes, while he lost the part of Mercia which was kept—or, more
strictly, won back—by Ælfred. It would seem that each prince was to
succeed to the dominions of the other, at all events if he died
childless. The brothers of the two Kings seem to have been formally shut
out. The sons of Eadmund were left in the usual position of minors. No
immediate provision or stipulation was made for them; but their position
as Æthelings, entitled to a preference on any future vacancy, seems to
have been distinctly acknowledged. It is hardly possible that a lasting
separation of the two parts of the kingdom was seriously meant. Such a
division could not have lasted longer than the joint lives of the two
reconciled competitors, and it would probably have been annulled at no
distant time by the first quarrel between them.[813]
England had thus once more for a moment, as in the days of Eadwig and
Eadgar, two Kings. But her two Kings were this time not hostile kinsmen,
but reconciled enemies. After the conference at Olney, the newly made
brothers parted. Cnut’s army returned to their ships, which had
doubtless stayed in the Thames near London. The citizens beneath whose
walls the power of Cnut and his father had been so often shattered, now
made peace [Sidenote: The Danes winter in London.] with the Danish host.
As usual, money was paid to them, and they were allowed to winter as
friends within the unconquered city.
[Sidenote: Death of Eadmund Ironside. November 30, 1016.]
But meanwhile a sudden event set aside all the late engagements and made
Cnut master of the whole realm. On Saint Andrew’s day King Eadmund
Ironside died in London. The manner of his death is uncertain.[814]
Perhaps the overwhelming toil of the last seven months may have worn out
the strength even of one whose vigorous frame had won him his
distinctive surname. The personal exertions of Eadmund must in truth
have been greater than those of any other man in the two armies. Besides
actual marching and fighting, there was the going to and fro after each
battle to gather fresh troops. This labour must have pressed more
severely on Eadmund than on any one else, far more severely than on
Cnut, who had his army always ready at hand. It is therefore quite
possible in itself that the death of Eadmund was natural, and such a
belief is in no way [Sidenote: Suspicions against Eadric;] contradicted
by our best authorities. But, according to a report which obtained a
wide belief, he died by the hand, or at least by the practice, of
Eadric. The traitor, or some kindred wretch in his employ, slew the King
and brother whom he had so often betrayed, and that by a specially base
and treacherous form of assassination. [Sidenote: against Cnut.] That
Cnut himself had a hand in the deed is an obvious surmise, and one which
his conduct immediately afterwards certainly does not belie. But no
English authority hints at any such suspicion; the only writers who
attribute the murder to Cnut, or who even imply that he was ever accused
of the crime, are to be found among the Danish King’s own countrymen.
But whether the death of Eadmund was natural or violent, whether Cnut
was or was not the instigator of the murder, if murder there was, he at
least reaped all the advantage of the opportune end of his former rival
and now sworn brother. The unbroken succession of the West-Saxon Kings,
of the English Emperors of Britain, had now come to an end. The remains
of the last, and one of the noblest, of that great line were carried to
the common sanctuary of Briton and Englishman, and the body of Eadmund
Ironside was laid by that of his grandfather [Sidenote: Eadmund’s tomb
at Glastonbury.] Eadgar in the great minster of Glastonbury.[815] In
later times, through all the rebuildings of that wonderful pile, the
memory of the hero of Sherstone and Assandun still lived. Till men arose
in whose eyes art, history, and religion were alike worthless, he held a
worthy place among a galaxy of royal tombs which Winchester or
Westminster could hardly surpass.[816] Behind the high altar, in his own
chapel as a canonized saint, rested the body of Eadgar the Peaceful.
Before the altar lay the supposed remains of the legendary Arthur and
his yet more legendary Queen. North and south slept two champions of
England, alike in name and in glory. On the north side lay Eadmund the
Magnificent, one of the brother heroes of Brunanburh, the conqueror of
Scot and Cumbrian and Northman, the deliverer of English cities from the
heathen yoke. To the south lay his namesake and descendant, as glorious
in defeat as in victory, the more than equal rival of the mighty Cnut,
the man who raised England from the lowest depth of degradation, the
guardian whose heart and arm never failed her, even if his ear lent too
easy credence to the counsels of the traitor.[817]
CHAPTER VI.
THE DANISH KINGS IN ENGLAND.[818]
1017–1042.
I have thought it right to narrate the course of events by which the
Danish power was established in England at nearly as great detail as I
purpose to narrate the central events of my history. The Danish and
Norman Conquests are so closely connected with one another as cause and
effect that the history of the one is an essential part of the history
of the other. I now come to a period of nineteen [Sidenote: Character of
the reign of Cnut.] years of a widely different character. The reign of
Cnut[819] was, as regards the isle of Britain, almost a repetition of
the reign of Eadgar. Within the realm of England itself we do not hear
of a single disturbance. And the forces of England had now but seldom to
be employed against Celtic enemies within her own island. One Scottish
invasion of England, one English invasion of Wales, make up nearly the
whole of the warfare of this reign within our own seas. There was indeed
warfare enough elsewhere, warfare in which Englishmen had their share.
But the details of Cnut’s wars in the Scandinavian North are often not a
little doubtful, and, even if they were far better ascertained, they
would not call for any minute attention at the hands of an historian
either of England or of Normandy. After Cnut’s power was once fully
established in England, we have next to no purely English events to
record. Still there are few periods of our history which call for more
attentive study. We have to contemplate the wonderful character of the
man himself, his almost unparalleled position, the general nature of his
government and policy. A few particular events which directly connect
English and Norman history will also need a special examination. Of one
event, more important than all in its results, no man could discern the
importance at the moment. While [Sidenote: 1027 or 1028.] Cnut sat on
the throne of England, William the Bastard first saw the light at
Falaise.
[Sidenote: Character of the reigns of the sons of Cnut.]
The remainder of the period contained in this Chapter, taking in the
reigns of the two sons of Cnut, is of a different character. The reigns
of those two worthless youths were short and troubled, and the accounts
which we find in our best authorities are singularly contradictory. But
the seven years between the death of Cnut and the election of Eadward
are highly important in many ways. Several men who were to play the most
important part in the times immediately following, men formed under
Cnut, but who, while he lived, were overshadowed by their sovereign, now
come forth into full prominence. Foremost among them all is the renowned
name of Godwine, Earl of the West-Saxons. These reigns also prepared the
way for the Norman Conquest in a most remarkable, though an indirect
manner. The great scheme of Cnut, the establishment of an
Anglo-Scandinavian Empire, fell to pieces after his death through the
divisions and misgovernment of his sons. Harold and Harthacnut disgusted
Englishmen with Danish rule, and led them to fall back on one of their
own countrymen as their King. But the English King thus chosen proved to
be, for all practical purposes, a Frenchman, and his French tendencies
directly paved the way for the coming of William. Now it is not likely
that any power whatever could have permanently kept all Cnut’s crowns
upon the same head. But had his sons been at all worthy of him, a
powerful dynasty, perhaps none the less English in feeling because
Danish in blood, might well have been established in England. Under such
a dynasty it is still possible that England might have been conquered in
the open field. But it is quite impossible that the path of the
Conqueror should have been made ready for him in the way that it
actually was by the weakness of Eadward and the intrigues of the foreign
favourites with whom he surrounded himself.
§ 1. _The Reign of Cnut in England._ 1017–1035.
[Sidenote: Cnut’s position at Eadmund’s death.]
The death of Eadmund left Cnut without a rival.[820] He had already been
twice chosen to the English crown; once by the voice of the Danish host
on the death of his father [Sidenote: February, 1014.] Swegen,[821] and
a second time, more regularly, by the vote [Sidenote: April, 1016.] of
the majority of the English Witan after the death of Æthelred.[822] He
was also most likely entitled by the Treaty of Olney to succeed to the
dominions of Eadmund. He was in actual possession of the larger half of
the kingdom. But Cnut, if valiant, was also wary; it might be too much,
especially at this stage of his life, to attribute to him any actual
shrinking from bloodshed; but he at least fully understood the value of
constitutional forms, and he had no wish to resort to violence when his
purpose could be better accomplished by peaceful means. He was
determined to be King of all England;[823] he was equally determined not
to parade the right of conquest offensively before the eyes of his new
subjects, but to rest his claim to the crown on an authority which no
man [Sidenote: Witenagemót of London. Christmas, 1016–1017.] could
gainsay. He accordingly assembled the Witan of all England in
London,[824] no doubt at the usual Midwinter festival. Before this
assembly the King of the Mercians [Sidenote: Cnut claims the crown by
virtue of the Treaty of Olney.] and Northumbrians[825] set forth his
claim to the kingdom of Wessex and East-Anglia, as the designated
successor of Eadmund according to the Treaty of Olney. The danger lay
from a possible competition, not so much on the part of the infant
children of Eadmund as on that of his [Sidenote: Testimony of the
witnesses to the treaty.] brothers.[826] The witnesses of the Olney
compact were brought forward and questioned by Cnut. They affirmed that
no portion of the kingdom had ever been assigned to the brothers of
Eadmund; those princes had received no portion during his life, and they
were entitled to no right or preference at his death. As for his sons,
Cnut, the adopted brother of Eadmund, had been named by him as
[Sidenote: Cnut chosen King of all England. January, 1017.] their
guardian during their minority.[827] Cnut was then formally acknowledged
as King of all England, his recognition, it would seem, being
accompanied by a formal exclusion of the brothers and sons of
Eadmund.[828] How far the electors acted under constraint, we know not;
but it is certain that no act was ever more regular in point of form,
and in no recorded transaction do the popular principles of the ancient
English constitution stand forth more clearly. The usual compact[829]
between King and people was gone through, with a further mutual promise
on the part of Danes and English to forget all old grudges. Money was,
as a matter of course, to be paid to the Danish army. The new King was
crowned, no doubt in Saint Paul’s minster, by Archbishop Lyfing.[830]
Measures [Sidenote: Outlawry of the two Eadwigs.] for the security of
the new dynasty were taken. With regard to the Ætheling Eadwig, who is
described as a prince of high character and the object of universal
esteem, the jealousy of Cnut was not satisfied with his exclusion from
the crown. A decree of outlawry was passed against him, as also against
another Eadwig, who is unknown to us, except that he bears the strange
title of King of the Churls.[831] This last Eadwig is said to have made
his peace [Sidenote: Murder of the Ætheling Eadwig.] with the King; but
Eadwig the Ætheling—so at least the rumour of the time said—was
treacherously murdered by Cnut’s order before the year was out.
In this important Gemót a division of England was made which shows how
thoroughly at home the new King [Sidenote: Cnut’s preference for
England,] already felt in his new kingdom. It is clear from the whole
course of Cnut’s reign that of all his dominions England was that which
he most prized. In the midst of his most brilliant victories England was
always his favourite dwelling-place, better loved than his native
Denmark, better loved than any of the other lands which he brought under
his power. In the roll-call of his titles England held the first place.
England was his home; she was, as it were, the love of his youth; her
crown was the prize which he had won with his own right hand, when he
had as yet neither inherited the ancestral kingship of Denmark nor
spread his dominion over Norwegians, Swedes, and [Sidenote: and for the
Saxon part of England.] Wends. And he not only made himself at home in
England; he made himself specially at home in the purely Saxon part of
England. Already King of the Northumbrians and Mercians, it would not
have been wonderful if he had fixed the seat of his rule in his own
half-Danish realm, and had dealt with East-Anglia and the Saxon shires
as conquered dependencies. And we may conceive that the future history
of England might have been different in many ways, if York had been
permanently established by Cnut as the capital of the kingdom. But Cnut,
when once chosen King by the Witan of all England, was determined to
fill in everything the place of the Kings of the English who had been
before him. Those Kings were primarily Kings of the West-Saxons; the
other English kingdoms were dependencies of the West-Saxon state. They
had gradually been more or less closely incorporated with the dominant
realm, but they still remained distinct governments, each with its own
Ealdorman and its own Gemót. This form of administration was continued,
and was more definitely [Sidenote: His fourfold division of the
kingdom.] organized by Cnut. England was divided into four great
governments, answering to the four most powerful and permanent among the
seven ancient kingdoms.[832] For his [Sidenote: He retains Wessex in his
own hands, and appoints Earls over Northumberland, Mercia,] own
immediate share he kept, not Northumberland or Mercia, but Wessex, the
cradle of the royal house which he had supplanted. Over the others he
appointed Earls, a title which now throughout the kingdom displaces the
more ancient name of Ealdormen.[833] Thurkill obtained or [Sidenote: and
East-Anglia. January, 1017.] kept East-Anglia. Eric the King’s
brother-in-law was confirmed in, or restored to, the government of
Northumberland, with which he had been invested a year before.[834]
Eadric, as the reward of his treasons and murders, was again appointed
to his old earldom of Mercia. But the signatures to the charters show
that the title of Earl was by no means confined to these three great
[Sidenote: Other Earls.] viceroys. As before with the title of
Ealdorman, so now its equivalent Earl was the title borne alike by the
governor of an ancient kingdom and by the subordinate governor of one or
more shires.[835] We can trace the names of several such Earls, both
English and Danish, [Sidenote: First appearance of Earl GODWINE.]
through the charters of Cnut’s reign. And among them we see, as filling
a marked and special position, the name of one who was presently to
become the first man in the English Empire—one who rose to power by the
favour of strangers, only to become the champion of our land against
strangers of every race—one who, never himself a King, was to be the
maker, the kinsman, the father of Kings. From an early stage of the
reign of Cnut we see a high and special place among the great men of the
realm filled by the deathless name of Godwine the son of Wulfnoth.
We feel that we are at last drawing near to the real centre of our
history when we bring in the name of the great champion of England
against Norman influence, the father of the King who died as her
champion against Norman invasion. The sudden and mysterious rise of this
great man is one of the most striking features of our history, and his
origin is perhaps the most obscure and difficult question of all the
obscure and difficult questions [Sidenote: Sudden promotion of Godwine
by Cnut.] which our history presents. With no certain explanation of so
singular a promotion, we find, from the very beginning of the reign of
Cnut, Godwine, an Englishman, whose parentage and whose rank by birth
are utterly doubtful, holding high office under the Danish monarch,
honoured with a connexion by marriage with the royal house, and before
long distinctly marked out as the first [Sidenote: Different statements
as to Godwine’s origin.] subject in the realm. One account makes him a
kinsman of the traitor Eadric; another makes him the son of a churl,
seemingly on the borders of Gloucestershire and Wiltshire, who won the
favour of the Danish Earl Ulf by incidental services done to him after
the battle of Sherstone.[836] But, whatever was his origin, it is clear
that his advancement was one of the first acts of the reign of Cnut.
[Sidenote: Godwine wins Cnut’s favour, and is raised to the rank of
Earl. [Before 1018.]] Among the foremost men of his newly won kingdom,
Godwine recommended himself to the discerning conqueror by his valour in
war, his prudence in counsel, his diligence in business, his eloquence
in speech, his agreeable discourse and equable temper.[837] I infer that
Godwine had distinguished himself in the war on the side of Eadmund, but
that he was early in offering his allegiance to the conqueror.[838] The
rank of Earl—with what jurisdiction we know not—was the reward of these
merits. We find him holding that dignity in the second year of Cnut’s
reign,[839] and it is not unlikely to have been conferred upon him in
the very Gemót of which we have just been speaking. He became a personal
favourite with the King, high in his confidence, and he soon rose to
greater power and dignity still.
[Sidenote: Cnut’s marriage with Ælfgifu-Emma.]
Cnut’s power now seemed firmly established; at the same time he thought
it expedient to resort to more than one means of strengthening it. In
the month of [Sidenote: July, 1017.] July in this year he contracted a
marriage which is one of the most singular on record. The widow of
Æthelred, Ælfgifu-Emma, was asked to share the English throne a second
time. Nothing loth, she came over from Normandy, married the new King,
and took up her old position as Lady of the English.[840] Fifteen years
before, she had in her youth crossed the sea on the same errand; now, a
mature widow, she gave herself to a man who was much younger than
herself, who had overturned the throne of her first husband, and had
driven her children [Sidenote: Motives for the marriage.] into
banishment. Cnut’s motives for this singular marriage are not very
clear, unless, as one historian suggests, it was part of his system of
reconciliation. He wished, we are told, to win the hearts of the
English, and to make as little change as possible in the appearance of
the English court, by putting again in her old place a Lady to whom they
were accustomed.[841] But this would seem to imply that Emma enjoyed a
popularity among the English, which the foreign woman, the cause of so
many evils, was not likely to have won. If a connexion with the ducal
house of Normandy was all that Cnut aimed at, a marriage with one of
Duke Richard’s daughters would have seemed a more natural alliance for
the young conqueror than a marriage with their dowager aunt. But it is
possible, after all, that personal preference may really have led to
this strange match. There is some slight reason to think that Cnut and
Emma may have met for the purposes of negotiation during the siege of
London.[842] And Emma, though much older than Cnut, may still have kept
much of the beauty which won her the title of the Gem of the
Normans.[843] The marriage was, after all, less strange than one which
had scandalized the West-Frankish court two generations earlier.
Eadgifu, the daughter of Eadward, the sister of Æthelstan, the widow of
Charles, the mother of Lewis, had, when already [Sidenote: 951.] a
grandmother of some standing, eloped with the young and handsome Count
Herbert, and had bestowed two half-brothers on her royal son.[844] At
any rate, whatever may have been Cnut’s motive in his marriage with the
royal widow, it is certain that at the time of his forming this more
exalted connexion he was, like so many of the Norman Dukes, already
hampered by an earlier connexion of that doubtful kind of which I have
often spoken.[845] [Sidenote: Cnut’s relations with Ælfgifu of
Northampton.] Cnut had already taken as his concubine or Danish wife,
Ælfgifu of Northampton, the daughter of Ælfhelm the murdered Earl of the
Northumbrians. By her Cnut believed himself to be the father of two
sons, Harold and Swegen, who after his death succeeded to two of his
kingdoms. But scandal affirmed that neither of them was really of kingly
birth. The barren Ælfgifu successively passed off on her confiding
husband or lover two children whom she affirmed to be their common
offspring, but of whom Swegen was in truth the son of a priest and
Harold the son of a shoemaker. Ælfgifu was certainly living at the time
of Cnut’s marriage with her namesake; whether either of her supposed
sons was born after that date is not so clear. But it was doubtless the
existence of one or other of these children which made Emma stipulate,
as she is said to have done, that the throne should pass to Cnut’s
children by her, to the exclusion of those by any other wife. The King
agreed, no doubt only so far as he constitutionally could; the marriage
took place, and was blessed with the births of Harthacnut and Gunhild.
Emma seems to have utterly forgotten, not only the memory of Æthelred,
but the existence of her children by him; her whole love was transferred
to the young Danish King and to the children whom she bore to him.
The marriages of Emma would seem to have needed a bloodbath as their
necessary attendant. Her bridal with Æthelred was almost immediately
followed by the great massacre of the Danes;[846] her second bridal with
Cnut was followed in the like sort, if not by an actual massacre, yet by
a considerable slaughter of Englishmen who were felt to be dangerous to
the Danish monarch. The whole course of the year was marked by
executions [Sidenote: Fate of the children of Æthelred.] and
banishments. The Ætheling Eadwig, the most dangerous of Cnut’s possible
competitors, was removed as we have seen.[847] The rumour of his
assassination at least implies that he died during the year in some way
or other. Of the other sons of Æthelred’s first marriage we can give no
account, except of those who seem to have been already dead. His
children by Emma were safe in Normandy, and they did not come back to
England with their mother. The romantic marriage of Eadmund Ironside
with Ealdgyth the widow of Sigeferth[848] had given him two sons,
Eadmund and Eadward, who were of course mere babes, and who, from the
date of their [Sidenote: The sons of Eadmund sent to Sweden, and thence
to Hungary.] mother’s marriage, would seem to have been twins. These
children were now sent out of the kingdom. The scandal of the time
affirmed that Eadric, the common author of all evil, counselled their
death.[849] Cnut shrank from the shame of slaying them in England;
but—according to one version, by the advice of Emma[850]—he sought means
to have them put out of the way in some distant land. His half-brother,
Olaf or James, the son of his mother Sigrid,[851] now reigned over
Sweden. To him he sent the babes, begging him to put them to death. The
Swede, a zealous propagator of Christianity in his own dominions,[852]
abhorred the crime, but stood in fear of his brother’s power. He
therefore sent the children to the King of the Hungarians, the sainted
Stephen,[853] to be saved alive and brought up. Both lived, and one will
appear again in our history, to become the source through which the old
kingly blood of Wessex found its way into the veins of the later rulers
of England and Scotland.
[Sidenote: Executions at the Christmas Gemót of 1017–1018.]
The Ætheling Eadwig, whatever was his end, clearly did not die by any
judicial sentence. But the Christmas Gemót of this year, held in
London,[854] was marked by the deaths of several men of high rank, some
of whom at least, whatever may have been their guilt or innocence, seem
to have died in a more regular way by the hand of the executioner. These
were Æthelweard, the son of Æthelmær distinguished as the Great;[855]
Brihtric, the son of Ælfheah of Devonshire, and Northman, the son of the
Ealdorman Leofwine. This last name introduces us to a family which was
to play a most important part in the times immediately before and
immediately after the Norman Conquest.[856] Of Leofwine personally we
know nothing; the fate of his son Northman is in one of our accounts
specially connected with the fate of Eadric.[857] One thing is plain,
that Northman’s offence, whatever it was, was something wholly personal
to himself and in no way touched the rest of his family.[858] This fact,
together with the advancement of Godwine, should be carefully borne in
mind. Whatever was the justice or injustice of these executions,[859]
they were at least no part of any deliberate plan for exterminating the
English nobility and substituting Danes in their place.[860] We shall
soon see that the policy of Cnut led him to an exactly opposite course.
[Sidenote: Treatment of the sons-in-law of Æthelred.]
The new King however kept a careful eye on all who were in any way
connected with the English royal family. The sons-in-law of Æthelred
seem to have awakened the suspicions of Cnut almost as strongly as his
sons. Of the daughters of Æthelred three were certainly married, to
Eadric, to Uhtred, and to an unknown Æthelstan.[861] A fourth is said to
have been the wife of Ulfcytel, and to have passed with his East-Anglian
government to the Dane Thurkill. All these men were gradually got rid of
by death or banishment. Æthelstan and Ulfcytel had had the good luck to
die in open battle. We have already seen how easily Cnut was led to
consent to the death of [Sidenote: Thurkill banished. 1021.]
Uhtred,[862] and we shall presently see Thurkill himself, to whom Cnut
in a great measure owed his crown, driven [Sidenote: Eadric put to
death. Christmas, 1017.] into banishment. The remaining son-in-law of
Æthelred, the infamous Eadric, met the reward of all his crimes in this
same Christmas Gemót. So short a time had he enjoyed the dignity which
he had kept or recovered by so many treasons. That he was put to death
at this time is certain, but that is nearly all that can be said. The
renown, or rather infamy, of his name drew special attention to his end,
and the retributive justice which lighted on the traitor became a
favourite subject of romance.[863] [Sidenote: Motives for his
execution.] The immediate cause or pretext of his death can hardly be
ascertained; but the feelings of Cnut towards him may easily be guessed.
Eadric, notwithstanding all his crimes, was an Englishman of the highest
rank; in the absence of available male heirs, his marriage made him in
some sort the nearest representative of the royal house; the very
success of his repeated crimes shows that he must, somehow or other,
have obtained the lead of a considerable party. In all these characters
he was dangerous; Cnut must have felt that a man who had so often
betrayed his former masters would have as little scruple about betraying
him;[864] he could hardly avoid confirming him in his earldom in the
assembly of the former winter, but he had doubtless already made up his
mind to seize on the first opportunity to destroy him. We may believe
that Cnut, as we are told in most versions of the story, gave himself
out as the avenger of his adopted brother; but the removal of the
arch-traitor was a step which prudence, as prudence was understood by
Cnut at that stage of his reign, called for fully as much as justice.
[Sidenote: Character and influence of Eadric.]
The character and career of Eadric, like those of Ælfric, his
predecessor in office and in crime,[865] form one of the standing
puzzles of history. It is hard to understand the motives for such
constant and repeated treasons on the part of one who had, solely by
royal favour, risen from nothing to the highest rank in the state. It is
equally difficult to understand by what sort of fascination he could
have found the means either to work his treasons or to blind the eyes of
those who suffered by them. That both his crimes and his influence have
been much exaggerated is highly probable. It is likely enough that he
has been made the scape-goat for many of the sins both of other
individuals and of the whole nation. A tendency of this kind to lay all
blame upon some one man is not uncommon. Thus in our Norman history we
have seen all the mischief that happened attributed at one time to
Arnulf of Flanders, and at another to Theobald of Chartres.[866] But
exaggeration of this kind must have had some substantial ground to go
upon. Without necessarily believing that Eadric personally wrought all
the countless and inexplicable treasons which are laid to his charge, it
is impossible to doubt that he knew how to exercise an extraordinary
influence over men’s minds, and that that [Sidenote: Two classes of
treasons ascribed to Eadric.] influence was always exerted for evil. It
may be observed that the crimes attributed to him fall into two classes.
His treasons on the field of battle, at Sherstone and at Assandun, were
wrought openly in the sight of two armies, and, asserted as they are by
contemporary writers, we [Sidenote: Difference in the credibility of the
two kinds of charges.] cannot do otherwise than accept them. But there
is another class of charges which do not rest on the same firm ground.
Such are his supposed share in the deaths of Eadmund and Eadwig, his
advice to destroy the children of Eadmund, and other cases where his
counsel is said to have led to various crimes and mischiefs, or to have
thwarted the accomplishment of wise and manly purposes. Some of these
charges are not found in our best authorities, and, of those which are,
some may well be merely the surmises of the time, going on the general
principle that, whenever any mischief was done, Eadric must needs be the
doer of it. The annalists could not well be mistaken as to Eadric’s
conduct on the field of Assandun; they might easily be mistaken as to
any particular piece of advice said to have been given by him to
Æthelred, to Eadmund, or to Cnut. In these last cases their statements
prove little more than the universal belief that Eadric was capable of
every wickedness. But that universal belief, though it proves little as
to this or that particular action, proves everything as to Eadric’s
general character. After making every needful deduction, enough is left,
not only to brand the name of Eadric with infamy, but to brand it with
infamy of a peculiar kind, which holds him up as a remarkable study of
human character as well for the philosopher as for the historian. We
have much more both of crime and of sorrow to go through in the course
of our history; it is at least some comfort that no sinner of the
peculiar type of Eadric will occur again.
[Sidenote: Leofwine succeeds Eadric in Mercia. Christmas, 1017.]
By the death of Eadric his earldom of Mercia became vacant. It was most
likely conferred on Leofwine, the father of the slain Northman, who had
seemingly hitherto held the ealdormanship of the Hwiccas under the
superior rule of Eadric.[867] And an earldom held by Northman, perhaps
that of Chester, is said to have been conferred on his brother Leofric,
who some years later succeeded his father in the government of all
Mercia.
The next year we hear that a fleet of thirty pirate ships, seemingly
coming to attack England, was cut off by Cnut. Thus, as a contemporary
writer says, he who had once been the destroyer of the land had now
become its [Sidenote: Payment of Danegeld. 1018.] defender.[868] In the
same year a heavy Danegeld was paid, doubtless that which had been
agreed upon in the treaty between Cnut and Eadmund at Olney.[869] London
paid ten thousand five hundred[870] pounds, and the rest of England paid
seventy-two thousand. This is something like a measure of the position
which the great merchant city [Sidenote: Cnut dismisses the greater part
of his fleet.] held in the kingdom. Cnut was thus able to satisfy the
claims of his fleet, and he now kept only forty ships in his pay,
sending the rest back to Denmark. The crews of these ships seem to have
been the germ of the famous force of the _Thingmen_ or _Housecarls_, of
whom, and of the peculiar legislation which affected them, I shall
presently have [Sidenote: Witenagemót of Oxford. 1018.] much to say.
This same year a Witenagemót was held, which marks an æra in the reign
of Cnut, and which may be looked upon as the winding up of the
severities which almost necessarily followed upon the conquest. A large
body of the chief men of both nations, Danish and English, assembled at
Oxford, the town where a like assembly, [Sidenote: 1015.] three years
before, had been dishonoured by the murder [Sidenote: Renewal of
“Eadgar’s Law.”] of Sigeferth and Morkere.[871] Danes and English alike
united in a decree for the observance of the laws of King Eadgar.[872]
This is the first time that we have met with this formula in England,
though we have already come across it in Norman history, when Cnut’s
grandfather [Sidenote: Import of the phrase.] Harold is said to have
restored the laws of Rolf.[873] It has here the same meaning which it
has in earlier and in later examples. The renewal of the laws of Eadgar
has the same meaning as the renewal of the laws of Rolf after the
expulsion of the French from Normandy, as the renewal of the laws of
Cnut after the expulsion of Tostig from Northumberland, as the often
promised and often evaded renewal of the laws of Eadward in the days of
the Norman Kings of England. It does not always imply that the princes
spoken of were specially looked on as lawgivers. Eadgar and Cnut had
undoubtedly some claim to that title, but we know not that Rolf had any,
and Eadward certainly had none. But the demand does not refer to codes
of law issued, or believed to be issued, by any of these princes. The
cry is really, as an ancient writer explains it,[874] not for the laws
which such a King enacted, but for the laws which such a King observed.
It is in fact a demand for good government in a time of past or expected
oppression or maladministration. It is, as in this case, a demand that a
foreign King should take the best of his native predecessors as his
model. The name of the last King who left behind him a name for just and
mild government is taken as the embodiment of all just and mild
government. The people in effect demand, and the King in effect
promises, that his government shall be as good as that of the popular
hero whose name is put forward. Now, with a foreign conqueror for their
King, with the ancient kingly house cut down to a few exiled children,
with the flower of the ancient nobility cut off in the carnage of
Assandun, Englishmen looked back with yearning to the days of their
native rulers. The reign of Æthelred was a time which the national
memory would be [Sidenote: The memory of Eadgar acceptable both to the
English and to the Danes.] glad to deal with as a blank. English
imagination leaped back to the glorious and happy days of the peaceful
Basileus, when Englishmen beat their swords into ploughshares and their
spears into pruning-hooks, when the mountains brought peace and the
little hills righteousness, when the Lord of Wessex could boast that,
within the four seas of Britain, all Kings fell down before him and all
nations did him service. And the name of Eadgar was one which would be
hardly less acceptable to the Danes than to the English themselves. When
their King was more and more throwing off the feelings of a conqueror,
when he was more and more closely making himself at one with the realm
which he had won, when the Earls and Thegns of the conquered land stood
around his throne on a perfect level with the proudest of their
conquerors, when the mass of the victorious army had just been sent away
to their own homes, the Danish followers of Cnut might well tremble, not
only for their supremacy over the vanquished English, but almost for
their equality with them. To them the name of Eadgar may well have
represented a prince who was raised to the throne in a great measure by
Danish swords, who, while he defended his island against Danish
invasions, did full justice to the Dane within his own realm, who
guaranteed to his Danish subjects every right that they could desire,
and whose fondness for them, among other strangers, was the only fault
with which Englishmen could reproach him.[875] Danes and Englishmen
therefore joined in looking back to Eadgar as the ideal of kingship, and
in demanding of their common sovereign that he should take that
incomparable[876] example as the model of his government. Men of both
nations looked back to the happy days of Eadgar, as in after days the
Northumbrians, groaning under the tyranny of Tostig, looked back to the
happy days of Cnut himself [Sidenote: Contrast between Cnut and the
Norman Kings.] and demanded the renewal of his law. They looked back to
them, as Englishmen under the Norman yoke looked back to the happy days
of Eadward, and put forth the vain demand that their foreign lords
should rule them, not merely according to the same formal enactments,
but in the same spirit of justice and mercy in which the royal saint was
held to have ruled. That prayer was not, and could not be, granted, till
the swords of Robert Fitzwalter and Simon of Montfort had won back for
us more than the laws of Eadward in another shape. The great Dane was
more happily placed. With him the renewal of the ancient laws was
neither an empty nor an impossible promise. If by renewing the laws of
Eadgar was meant the establishment of a rule as strong and as just and
as safe against foreign invasion as that of Eadgar, King Cnut fully kept
his word.[877]
Cnut had now been absent from his native country for five years. He had
stayed in England ever since his return [Sidenote: 1014–5.] thither
after he had been driven out by the solitary military exploit of King
Æthelred the Unready.[878] It was clearly his intention to make England
the seat of his empire,[879] but as he was now, by the death or
deposition of his brother Harold, sovereign of Denmark,[880] and as
[Sidenote: Cnut visits Denmark. 1019.] England was perfectly quiet and
reconciled to his government, he deemed it expedient to pay a visit to
the land of [Sidenote: He is accompanied by Godwine, who is said to have
distinguished] his birth.[881] He took with him Godwine, whose conduct
in this foreign journey, perhaps in one of Cnut’s northern wars,
procured him a still higher degree of his sovereign’s esteem.[882]
According to one account, it was by a gallant [Sidenote: himself in a
Wendish war.] action in an expedition against the Wends that the English
Earl gained Cnut’s special favour. An English contingent under Godwine’s
command served in the Danish army. The two armies lay near together, and
a battle was expected the next day. Godwine, without the King’s
knowledge, attacked the enemy by night at the head of his countrymen,
routed them utterly, and occupied their camp. In the morning Cnut missed
the English portion of his army, and hastily inferred that they had
deserted, or even gone over to the enemy. He marched however to the
Wendish camp, and there, to his surprise, found Godwine and the English
in possession, and nothing left of the Wends but their dead bodies and
their spoil. This exploit, we are told, greatly raised both Godwine and
the English in general in the opinion of Cnut. The tale has a mythical
sound; but, whatever may be the truth or falsehood of its details, that
Godwine rose still higher from the time of this Danish expedition is
beyond doubt. Cnut [Sidenote: Godwine marries Gytha, sister of Earl
Ulf.] now admitted him to his most secret counsels, and gave him in
marriage Gytha, the sister of the Danish Earl Ulf, the husband of his
own sister Estrith. This Ulf, the son of Thurgils Sprakaleg, is one of
the most famous characters in the Danish history or romance of the time.
Like some other heroes of the North, his parentage was not wholly human.
The father of Thurgils, Biorn, was the offspring of a bear, who carried
off a human damsel.[883] Ulf himself is said to have served in Cnut’s
English wars, and according to one version, it was to him that Godwine
owed his earliest introduction to Cnut.[884] But in English history he
plays hardly any part.[885] His marriage we shall have to speak of again
as one of the events which connect England and Denmark and Normandy; but
his real or imaginary exploits and treasons,[886] and his death by order
of his brother-in-law, belong wholly to [Sidenote: Her long and
chequered life.] Scandinavian history. But his sister Gytha, the wife of
the greatest of living Englishmen, became thoroughly naturalized in
England. She shared the momentary banishment of her husband in the days
of Norman intrigue, and she lived to undergo an eternal banishment in
the days of Norman dominion. No mother was ever surrounded by a fairer
or more hopeful offspring; none ever underwent a longer series of
hopeless bereavements. She saw a nephew on the throne of Denmark, a
daughter and a son on the throne of England. She saw her other children
and kinsfolk ruling as princes in England and allying themselves with
princes in foreign lands. But she also saw her brother cut off by the
hand of his kinsman and sovereign; she saw one son stained with the
blood of a cousin, and another son stained with treason against his
house and country. Of her remaining sons she saw three cut off in one
day by the most glorious of deaths, while the sole survivor dragged on
his weary days in a Norman prison. No tale of Grecian tragedy ever set
forth a sadder and more striking record of human vicissitudes, of
brighter hopes in youth, of more utter desolation in old age, than the
long and chequered life of her whom our notices are at least enough to
set her before us as a wife worthy of Godwine, a mother worthy of
Harold.
[Sidenote: Cnut returns to England.]
The next year Cnut came back to England as his real home and
abiding-place, the seat of his Anglo-Scandinavian Empire. At Easter a
Witenagemót was held at Cirencester, at which took place the last
recorded instance of [Sidenote: Witenagemót at Cirencester. April,
1020.] severity on Cnut’s part towards any Englishman. An [Sidenote:
Æthelweard banished.] Ealdorman Æthelweard—which, among all the bearers
of that name, we can only guess—was banished.[887] But it must have been
at this same Gemót that an appointment was made which showed how
thoroughly at home the stranger King had made himself in his new
country. The last banishment of an Englishman by the Danish conqueror
was accompanied by the exaltation of another Englishman to a place in
the realm second only to kingship. [Sidenote: Godwine appointed Earl of
the West-Saxons. [1020–1052.]] It was now that Godwine received a title
and office which no man had borne before him, but which, saving the few
months of his banishment, he bore for the thirty-two remaining years of
his life, the title and office of Earl of the West-Saxons.[888] Cnut, it
will be remembered, in his fourfold division of the kingdom, while he
appointed Earls over Northumberland, Mercia, and East-Anglia, kept
Wessex under his own immediate government. He was now already King of
two kingdoms, and he had no doubt by this time began to meditate a
further extension [Sidenote: Nature and import of the office.] of his
dominion in the North. He found, it would seem, that the King of all
England and all Denmark needed a tried helper in the administration of
his most cherished possession, and a representative when his presence
was needed in other parts of his dominions. Wessex then, the ancient
hearth and home of English kingship, now for the first time received an
immediate ruler of a rank inferior to that of King. Godwine became the
first, and his son Harold was the second and last, of the Earls of the
West-Saxons. To reduce the ancient kingdom to an earldom was not, as has
been sometimes imagined, any badge of the insolence of a conqueror; the
act was in no way analogous to the change of Northumberland from a
kingdom to an earldom under Eadred. The case is simply that the King of
all England and all Denmark, King in a special manner of the old
West-Saxon realm, found the need of a special counsellor, and in absence
of a viceroy, even in this his chosen and immediate dominion. No man of
the kindred or nation of the conqueror, but Godwine, the native
Englishman, was found worthy of this new and exalted post. Through the
whole remainder of the reign of Cnut, the great Earl of the West-Saxons
ruled in uninterrupted honour and influence. The wealth which he
acquired, mainly, it may be supposed, by royal grant, was enormous. His
possessions extended into nearly every shire of the south and centre of
England. Whether the son of the churl or the great-nephew of the
traitor, he was now, three years after the completion of the Danish
Conquest, beyond all doubt the first subject in the realm.
[Sidenote: Consecration of the church on Assandun. 1020.]
The year of Cnut’s return and of Godwine’s great promotion beheld the
King engaged in a remarkable solemnity on the spot which had witnessed
his last battle, his only distinct victory, in his great struggle with
English Eadmund. On the hill of Assandun, Cnut, in partnership with
Thurkill, at once as Earl of the district and as his chief comrade in
the battle, had reared a church, which was consecrated, in the presence
of the King and the Earl, by Wulfstan, Archbishop of York, and several
other bishops. That the ceremony was performed by the Northern
Metropolitan was probably owing to a vacancy in the see of Canterbury.
Lyfing, who had crowned Cnut, died in the course of the year, and was
succeeded by Æthelnoth the Good,[889] who had baptized or confirmed
him.[890] The ceremony at Assandun doubtless took place between these
two events. In Essex, a region rich in woods, but poor in good building
stone, timber was largely used both in ecclesiastical and in domestic
buildings for ages after this time. Cnut however employed the rarer
material, and the fact that his church was built of stone and lime was
looked on as something worthy of distinct record.[891] The stone church
of Assandun was something remarkable in Essex, exactly as the wooden
church of Glastonbury[892] was something remarkable in Somerset. But the
building was small and mean, at least as compared with the stately pile
which the next conqueror of England reared in memory of his victory. The
foundation of Cnut and Thurkill, for a single priest,[893] was poor and
scanty, compared with the lordly Abbey of Saint Martin of the Place of
Battle.[894] But the minster of Battle simply spoke of the subjugation
of a land by a foreign conqueror; the minster of Assandun told a nobler
tale. It was reared as the hallowing of his victory, as the atonement
for his earlier crimes, by a prince who, conqueror as he was, had
learned to love the land which he had conquered, to feel himself one
with its people, and to reign after the pattern of its noblest princes.
The Abbot of Battle and his monks were strangers, brought from a foreign
land to fatten on the [Sidenote: First appearance of STIGAND, [Priest of
Assandun, 1020; Bishop of Elmham, 1044; of Winchester, 1047; Archbishop
of Canterbury, 1052].] spoils of England.[895] The single priest of
Assandun lived to show himself one of the stoutest of Englishmen.
Stigand, the first priest of Cnut’s new minster, now the friend and
chaplain of the Danish conqueror, in after years displaced a Norman
intruder on the throne of Augustine, and was himself hurled therefrom at
the bidding of a Norman King.[896]
The consecration on Assandun might pass as the formal act of
reconciliation between the Danish King and his [Sidenote: Later years of
Cnut. 1020–1035.] English subjects. From that day the internal history
of England, for the remaining fifteen years of the reign of Cnut,
becomes a blank. We now hear only of the King’s wars abroad, of his acts
of piety at home, of several instances in which his hand was heavy upon
his own countrymen; but, after the outlawry of Æthelweard, we find no
record of the death or banishment of a single [Sidenote: Danes make way
for Englishmen.] Englishman. In fact these years form a time of the
gradual substitution of Englishmen for Danes in the highest offices,
while no doubt Danes of lower degree were, like their sovereign, fast
changing themselves into Englishmen. Nearly all the Danish holders of
earldoms whom we find at the beginning of Cnut’s reign vanish [Sidenote:
Thurkill banished from England. November, 1021.] one by one. Of the
outlawry of the two greatest of their number we find distinct accounts.
The year after the ceremony at Assandun, Thurkill, the co-founder with
the King, who, in the account of their joint work, appears almost as the
King’s peer, was driven into banishment.[897] With him his English wife
Eadgyth had to leave her country; if she was the daughter of Æthelred,
and the widow of either Ulfcytel or Eadric,[898] we are almost driven to
infer that the marriage was contracted after the consecration on
Assandun, that the connexion with the ancient royal family awakened
Cnut’s jealousy, and was in fact the cause of Thurkill’s banishment. One
cannot help feeling a certain interest in the fate of one who had so
long played an important and, on the whole, not a dishonourable, part in
English history. The savage pirate gradually changed into the civilized
warrior; if at one time he was the enemy, he was at another the
defender, of England. The heathen who had striven to save a Christian
martyr from his persecutors had developed the good seed within him till
he grew into a founder and restorer of Christian churches. With the
banishment which I have just recorded the history of Thurkill, as far as
England is concerned, comes to an end. But his banishment was merely
local; he was held to be dangerous in England, and he was therefore
removed from the country, but his removal was little more than an
honourable ostracism. He kept, or soon won back, his sovereign’s favour;
there is no evidence that he ever came back to England; but two years
later he was formally [Sidenote: Thurkill made Viceroy of Denmark.
1023.] reconciled to Cnut; he was established as his viceroy in Denmark,
seemingly as guardian to one of the King’s sons who was meant to succeed
him in that kingdom.[899] The only sign of suspicion shown on Cnut’s
part was his bringing back the son of Thurkill with him to England,
[Sidenote: Eric banished. 1023?] evidently as a hostage. Eric also, the
Danish Earl of the Northumbrians, was banished a few years later than
Thurkill, on what occasion, and at what exact time, is [Sidenote: Hakon
banished. 1029.] unknown.[900] Somewhat later again we find the
banishment of Eric’s son Hakon, “the doughty Earl.” Hakon was doubly the
King’s nephew, as the son of his sister and as the husband of his niece
Gunhild, the daughter of another sister and of Wyrtgeorn King of the
Wends.[901] We have no details, but we are told that Cnut feared to be
deprived by him of his life or kingdom.[902] Hakon seems however not to
have been formally outlawed, but to have been merely sent away to fill
the post which his father had held as viceroy in Norway.[903] This fact,
coupled with Thurkill’s similar viceroyalty in Denmark, shows that Cnut
could trust men in other countries whom he thought [Sidenote: His death.
1030.] dangerous in England. The year after his removal from England
Hakon died at sea, or, according to another account, was killed in
Orkney.[904] His widow seems to have stayed in England; she married
another Danish [Sidenote: 1046.] Earl, Harold,[905] and was herself, in
her second widowhood, banished from England when England had again a
native [Sidenote: Ulf put to death. After 1025.] King.[906] Cnut’s
brother-in-law Ulf came to a worse end still; that he died by the
command of Cnut there is no reason to doubt, but we have no certain
information as to the circumstances. According to our Danish historian
it was a perfectly righteous execution, while the romantic tale of the
Norwegian saga represents it as a singularly [Sidenote: The banished
Danish chiefs succeeded by Englishmen.] base and cold-blooded
assassination.[907] The point of importance for us is that these eminent
Danes had no successors of their own nation in their English offices.
There remained plenty of Danish Thegns and some Danish Earls; but in the
later years of Cnut the highest places were all filled by Englishmen.
Ranig retained the subordinate earldom of the Magesætas; Thored was
Staller, and, at least in Harthacnut’s reign, he held the earldom of the
Middle-Angles.[908] But Godwine and Leofric held the first rank in
southern and in central England, and, on the banishment of Eric, the
government of Northumberland went back to the family of its ancient
Earls.[909] It is most remarkable, in tracing the signatures to the
charters, to trace how the Danish names gradually disappear, and are
succeeded by English names.[910] The Danes who remain seem to have been
all in quite secondary rank. No doubt Cnut had largely rewarded his
followers with grants of land, and we can well believe that some of
these new Danish thegns often behaved with great insolence to their
English neighbours.[911] But the general principle of Cnut’s government
is not affected by any local wrongs of this kind. Cnut, from the very
beginning, admitted Englishmen to high office; still, in the earlier
years of his reign he appears mainly as a foreign conqueror surrounded
by those whose arms had won his crown for him. He gradually changes into
a prince, English in all but actual birth, who could afford to dispense
with the dangerous support of the chieftains of his own nation, who
could venture to throw himself on the loyalty of those whom he had
subdued, and to surround himself with the natural leaders of those whom
he had learned to look on as his own people.
[Sidenote: Character of Cnut.]
This gradual change in the disposition of Cnut makes him one of the most
remarkable, and, to an Englishman, one of the most interesting,
characters in history. There is no other instance—unless Rolf in
Normandy be admitted as a forerunner on a smaller scale—of a barbarian
conqueror, entering a country simply as a ruthless pirate, plundering,
burning, mutilating, slaughtering, without remorse, and then, as soon as
he is firmly seated on the throne of the invaded land, changing into a
beneficent ruler and lawgiver, and winning for himself a place side by
side with the best and greatest of its native sovereigns. Cnut never
became a perfect prince like Ælfred. An insatiable ambition possessed
him throughout life, and occasional acts of both craft and violence
disfigure the whole of his career. No man could charge him with that
amiable weakness through which Eadmund lent so ready an ear to
protestations of repentance and promises of amendment even from the lips
of Eadric. Cnut, on the other hand, always found some means, by death,
by banishment, by distant promotion, of getting rid of any one who had
once awakened his suspicions. Reasons of state were as powerful with
him, and led him into as many unscrupulous actions, as any more
civilized despot of later times. But Englishmen were not disposed to
canvass the justice of wars in which they won fame and plunder, while no
enemy ever set foot on their own shores. They were as little disposed to
canvass the justice of banishments and executions, when, for many years,
it was invariably a Dane, never an Englishman, who was [Sidenote: Cnut’s
position typical of that of the Danes in England.] the victim. The law
by which the Dane settled in England presently became an Englishman
received its highest carrying out in the person of the illustrious
Danish King. As far as England and Englishmen were concerned, Cnut might
seem to have acted on the principle of the Greek poet, that
unrighteousness might be fittingly done in order to win a crown, but
that righteousness should be done in all other times and places.[912]
The throne of Cnut, established by wasting wars, by unrighteous
executions, perhaps even by treacherous assassinations, was, when once
established, emphatically the throne of righteousness and peace. As an
English King, he fairly ranks beside [Sidenote: Cnut’s letter from Rome.
1027.] the noblest of his predecessors. His best epitaph is his famous
letter to his people on his Roman pilgrimage.[913] Such a pilgrimage was
an ordinary devotional observance according to the creed of those times.
But in the eyes of Cnut it was clearly much more than a mere perfunctory
ceremony. The sight of the holy places stirred him to good resolves in
matters both public and private, and, as a patriotic King, he employed
his meeting with the Pope, the Emperor, and the Burgundian King, to win
from all of them favours which were profitable to the people of his
various realms. No man could have written in the style in which Cnut
writes to all classes of his English subjects, unless he were fully
convinced that he possessed and deserved the love of his people. The
tone of the letter is that of an absent father writing to his children.
In all simplicity and confidence, he tells them the events of his
journey; he tells them with what honours he had been received, and with
what presents he had been loaded, by the two chiefs of Christendom, and
what privileges for his subjects, both English and Danish, he had
obtained at their hands. He confesses the errors of his youth, and
promises reformation of anything which may still be amiss. All
grievances shall be redressed; no extortions shall be allowed; King Cnut
needs no money raised by injustice. These are surely no mere formal or
hypocritical professions; every word plainly comes from the heart.
England had more than led captive her conqueror; she had changed him
into her King and father.
[Sidenote: The Laws of Cnut. 1028–1035.]
The same spirit which breathes in Cnut’s letter breathes also in the
opening of his laws.[914] The precept to fear God and honour the King
here takes a more personal and affectionate form. First above all things
are men one God ever to love and worship, and one Christendom with one
mind to hold, and Cnut King to love with right truthfulness.[915] The
laws themselves deal with the usual subjects, the reformation of
manners, the administration of justice, the strict discharge of all
ecclesiastical duties and the strict payment of all ecclesiastical dues.
The feasts of the two new national saints, Eadward the King and Dunstan
the Primate, are again ordered to be kept, and the observance of the
former is again made to rest in a marked way on the authority of the
Witan.[916] The observance of the Lord’s day is also strongly insisted
on; on that day there is to be no marketing, no hunting; even the
holding of folkmotes is forbidden, except in cases of absolute
necessity.[917] All heathen superstition is to be forsaken,[918] and the
slave-trade is again denounced.[919] The whole fabric of English society
is strictly preserved. The King legislates only with the consent of his
Witan.[920] The old assemblies, the old tribunals, the old magistrates,
keep all their rights and powers. The Bishop and the Ealdorman[921]
still fill their place as joint presidents of the Scirgemót, and joint
expounders of the laws, ecclesiastical and secular.[922] The King, as
well as all inferior lords,[923] is to enjoy all that is due to him; the
royal rights, differing somewhat in the West-Saxon and the Danish
portions of the kingdom, are to be carefully preserved, and neither
extended nor diminished in either country.[924] No distinction, except
the old local one, is made between Danes and Englishmen. The local
rights and customs of the Danish and English portions of the kingdom are
to be strictly observed.[925] But this is only what we have already seen
in the legislation of Eadgar.[926] The Danes spoken of in Cnut’s laws,
as in Eadgar’s, are the long-settled Danish inhabitants of
Northumberland and the other countries of the _Denalagu_; no kind of
preference is made in favour of Cnut’s own Danish followers; we cannot
doubt that a Dane who held lands in Wessex had to submit to English law,
just as a West-Saxon who held lands in Northumberland must, under Eadgar
no less than under Cnut, have had to submit to Danish law. On one point
the legislation of the great Dane is distinctly more rational and
liberal than the legislation of our own day. Trespasses on the King’s
forests are strictly forbidden; but the natural right of every man to
hunt on his own land is emphatically asserted.[927] And as Cnut’s theory
was, so was his practice. No King was more active in what was then held
to be the first duty of kingship, that of constantly going through every
portion of his realm to see with his own eyes whether the laws which he
enacted were duly put in force.[928] In short, after Cnut’s power was
once fully established, we hear no complaint against his government
[Sidenote: Personal traditions of Cnut.] from any trustworthy English
source.[929] His hold upon the popular affection is shown by the number
of personal anecdotes of which he is the hero. The man who is said, in
the traditions of other lands, to have ordered the cold-blooded murder
of his brother-in-law, and that in a church at the holy season of
Christmas,[930] appears in English tradition as a prince whose main
characteristic is devotion mingled with good humour.[931] In the best
known tale of all, he rebukes the impious flattery of his courtiers, and
hangs his crown on the image of the crucified Saviour.[932] He bursts
into song as he hears the chant of the monks of Ely,[933] and rejoices
to keep the festivals of the Church among them. He bountifully rewards
the sturdy peasant who proves the thickness of the ice over which the
royal sledge has to pass.[934] One tale alone sets him before us in a
somewhat different light. He mocks at the supposed sanctity of Eadgyth
the daughter of Eadgar; he will not believe in the holiness of any child
of a father so given up to lust and tyranny. It is needless to add that
the offended saint brings the blasphemer to a better mind by summary
means.[935] This tale is worth noting, as it illustrates the twofold
conception of the character of Eadgar which was afloat. Cnut is
represented as accepting the Eadgar of the minstrels, not the Eadgar of
the monks, nor yet the Eadgar of history, who is somewhat different from
either. But even in this tale Cnut is described as showing something of
the spirit which breathes in his Roman letter. The King who loathed the
supposed tyranny of Eadgar could hardly have been conscious of any
tyranny of his own.
[Sidenote: Cnut’s ecclesiastical policy.]
In ecclesiastical matters Cnut mainly, though not exclusively, favoured
the monks. His ecclesiastical appointments, [Sidenote: 1020.] especially
that of good Archbishop Æthelnoth;[936] who had baptized or confirmed
him, do him high honour. [Sidenote: His ecclesiastical foundations.] He
was also, after the custom of the age, a liberal benefactor to various
ecclesiastical foundations. According to one account, not Assandun only,
but all his battle-fields were marked by commemorative churches.[937]
But as Assandun was Cnut’s only undoubted victory on English soil, and
as men do not usually commemorate their defeats, we may conclude that,
in England at least, Assandun was his only foundation of that kind. That
church, as we have seen, was a secular foundation, seemingly for one
priest only. A more splendid object of Cnut’s munificence throws an
interesting light on the workings of his mind. The special object of his
reverence was Eadmund, the sainted King of the East-Angles, a King
martyred by heathen Danes, a saint who was the marked object of his
father’s hatred, and by whose vengeance his father was held to have come
to his untimely end.[938] The Christian Dane, King of all England, was
eager to wipe away the stain from his house and nation. He made
provision for the restoration of all the holy places which had in any
way suffered during his own or his father’s wars.[939] But the first
rank among them was given to the great foundation which boasted of the
resting-place of the royal martyr. [Sidenote: Saint Eadmund’s Bury
rebuilt and the foundation changed. 1020–1032.] The minster of Saint
Eadmund was rebuilt, and, in conformity with the fashionable notions of
reformation, its secular canons had to make way for an Abbot and monks.
Some of the new inmates came from Saint Benet at Holm,[940] another
foundation which was enriched by Cnut’s bounty.[941] One hardly knows
whether Cnut most avoided or incurred suspicion by his special devotion
to the resting-place of [Sidenote: Cnut’s visit to Glastonbury. 1032.]
another Eadmund. He visited Glastonbury in company with Archbishop
Æthelnoth, once a monk of that house. There, in the building which
tradition points to as the first Christian temple raised in these
islands, the building which history recognizes as the one famous holy
place of the conquered Briton which lived unhurt through the storm of
English Conquest, in the “wooden basilica” hallowed by the memory of so
many real and legendary saints, did the Danish King confirm every gift
and privilege which his English predecessors had granted to the great
Celtic sanctuary.[942] A hundred and fifty years after the visit of
Cnut, the wooden basilica, which had beheld so many revolutions, gave
way to the more powerful influence of a change of taste and feeling, and
on its site arose one of the most exquisite specimens of the latest
Romanesque art, now in its state of desolation forming one of the
loveliest of monastic ruins.[943] At some distance to the east of this
primæval sanctuary stood the larger minster of stone reared by Saint
Dunstan. In Cnut’s days it was doubtless still deemed a wonder of art,
though it was doomed before the end of the century to give way to the
vaster conceptions of the Norman architects. The invention and
translation of the legendary Arthur were as yet distant events, and the
new tomb of King Eadmund Ironside still kept the place of honour before
the high altar.[944] There the conqueror knelt and prayed, and covered
the tomb of his murdered brother with a splendid robe on which the
gorgeous plumage of the peacock was reproduced [Sidenote: Translation of
Saint Ælfheah. June, 1023.] by the skilful needles of English
embroideresses.[945] Equal honours were paid by Cnut to another victim
of the late wars, in his devotion to whom he was expiating the crimes of
his nation, though not his own or those of his father’s house. The body
of the martyred Ælfheah was translated from Saint Paul’s minster in
London to his own metropolitan church, in the presence, and with the
personal help, of the King and of all the chief men of the realm, lay
and clerical. The ceremony was further adorned with the presence of the
Lady Emma and her [Sidenote: His gifts to Winchester, Ely, and Ramsey.]
“kingly bairn” Harthacnut.[946] That the two monasteries of the royal
city of Winchester came in for their share of royal bounty it is almost
needless to mention. But towards them the devotion of Emma, who claimed
the city as her morning-gift, seems to have been more fervent than that
of her husband.[947] Cnut’s personal tastes seem to have led him to the
great religious houses of the fen country, where the dead of Maldon and
Assandun reposed in the choirs of Ely and Ramsey.[948] Nowhere was his
memory more fondly cherished than in the great minster which boasted of
the tomb of Brihtnoth. There he was not so much a formal benefactor as a
personal friend. But he was held in no less honour at Ramsey, the
resting-place of Æthelweard. There he built a second church,[949] and
designed the foundation of a society of nuns, which he did not bring to
perfection. The local historian of the house rewards his bounty with a
splendid panegyric, which however is fully borne out by his recorded
acts.[950] Nor was his bounty confined to England, or even to his own
[Sidenote: Cnut plants English Bishops in Denmark.] dominions. In his
native Denmark he showed himself a diligent nursing-father to the infant
Church, largely providing it with bishops and other ecclesiastics from
[Sidenote: His gifts to foreign churches, &c.] England.[951] On his
Roman pilgrimage, the poor and the churches of every land through which
he passed shared his bountiful alms. It is also said that, by the
counsel of Archbishop Æthelnoth, he gave gifts to many foreign churches.
One special object of his favour was the church of Chartres, then
flourishing under its famous Bishop Fulbert.[952] Emma too, the foreign
Lady, was not backward in her gifts to churches, both English and
foreign. She gave to the metropolitan church of Canterbury an arm of the
Apostle Bartholomew, bought of an Archbishop of Beneventum whom the fame
of the wealth of England had led hither to dispose of his holy
treasure.[953] She had also a great share in rebuilding the famous
minster of Saint Hilary at Poitiers, where a large portion of her work
still remains.[954]
Such then was Cnut’s internal government of England. The conqueror had
indeed changed into a home-born King. At no earlier time had the land
ever enjoyed so long a term of such unmixed prosperity. We have now to
behold the great King in his relations to foreign lands. And, if a
series of ambitious wars and aggressions forms a less pleasing picture
than a tale of peaceful and beneficent government, we shall at least see
England raised to a higher position in the general system of Christendom
than she held at any earlier, perhaps at any later time.
§ 2. _The foreign Relations of Cnut._ 1018–1035.
Cnut had come into England as a conqueror and destroyer; but his reign,
as far as the internal state of England [Sidenote: Unparalleled internal
peace during the reign of Cnut.] is concerned, was a time of perfect
peace.[955] No invasion from beyond sea, no revolt, no civil war, is
recorded during the eighteen years of his government. A single Scottish
inroad and victory of which we shall presently hear was wiped out by the
more complete submission of the northern vassal of England. Within
England itself we read of no district being ravaged either by rebels or
by royal command; we read of no city undergoing, or even being
threatened with, military chastisement. This is more than can be said of
the reign either of Eadgar the Peaceful or of Eadward the Saint. No
doubt the whole nation was weary of warfare; after a struggle of
thirty-six years, England would have been glad of a season of repose,
even under a far worse government than that of Cnut. But a period of
seventeen years in which we cannot see that a sword was drawn within the
borders of England was something altogether unparalleled in those
warlike ages, something which speaks volumes in favour of the King who
bestowed such a blessing on our land. It is true that the old enemies of
England were now the fellow-subjects of Englishmen, and that the first
attempt of her new enemies came to nought without a blow being struck.
Danish invasions ceased when Denmark and England had the same King, and
the first Norman invasion, as we shall presently see, ignominiously
failed. But a great deal is proved by the absence of any recorded
attempt on the part of any Englishman to get rid of the foreign King. No
one thought of taking advantage of Cnut’s frequent absences from England
in the way in which men did take advantage of the similar absences of
William the Norman. It is quite impossible that England and all Cnut’s
other kingdoms should have been kept down against their will by the
King’s [Sidenote: The Housecarls or Thingmen.] Housecarls. It is now
that we first hear of this famous force, the name of which will be often
heard during the following reigns, even after the Norman Conquest.
Hitherto England had possessed nothing that could be called a standing
army. When a war had to be waged, the King or Ealdorman called on his
personal followers, attached to him by the ancient tie of the
_comitatus_, and on the general levy, the _fyrd_ or militia, either of
the whole kingdom or of some particular part of it. But no English King
or Ealdorman had hitherto kept a standing military force in his pay. But
Cnut now organized a regular paid force, kept constantly under arms, and
ready to march at a moment’s notice.[956] These were the famous
Thingmen, the Housecarls, of whom we hear so much under Cnut and under
his successors. This permanent body of soldiers in the King’s personal
service seems to have had its origin in the crews of the forty Danish
ships which were kept by Cnut when he sent back the greater part of his
fleet in the second year of his reign. In his time the force consisted
of three thousand, or at most of six thousand, men, gathered from all
nations. For the power and fame of Cnut drew volunteers to his
[Sidenote: A revival of the _Comitatus_.] banner from all parts of
Northern Europe. The force was in fact a revival of the earliest form of
the _comitatus_, only more thoroughly and permanently organized. The
immediate followers, the hearth company, of earlier Kings and Ealdormen
had been attached to them by a special tie, and were bound to bear to
them a special fidelity in the day of battle.[957] The Housecarls or
Thingmen of Cnut were a force of this kind, larger in number, kept more
constantly under arms, and subjected to a more regular discipline than
had hitherto been usual. Receiving regular pay, and reinforced by
volunteers of all kinds and of all nations, they doubtless gradually
departed a good deal from the higher type of the _comitatus_, and came
nearer to the level of ordinary mercenaries. So far as the force
consisted of foreigners, they were mercenaries in the strictest sense;
so far as it consisted of Englishmen, they were mercenaries in no other
sense than that in which all paid soldiers are mercenaries. The
housecarls were in fact a standing army, and a standing army was an
institution which later Kings and great Earls, English as well as
Danish, found it to be their interest to continue. Under Cnut they
formed a kind of military guild with [Sidenote: The military laws of
Cnut.] the King at their head. A set of most elaborate articles of war
determined the minutest points of their duty.[958] Fitting punishments
were decreed for all offences great and small, punishments to be awarded
by tribunals formed among the members of the guild. But all the
provisions of the code relate wholly to the internal discipline of the
force and to the relations of its members to one another. Of the
position in which they stood to the community at large we hear
absolutely nothing. And it should be remembered that all our details
come from Danish writers and those not contemporary. Our English
authorities tell us nothing directly about the matter. [Sidenote: The
institution continued by later Kings.] From them we could at most have
inferred that some institution of the sort arose about this time; we
never read of housecarls before the reign of Cnut, while we often read
of them afterwards. That a body of soldiers, many of them foreigners,
were guilty of occasional acts of wrong and insolence, we may take for
granted even without direct evidence. That under a bad King they might
sometimes be sent on oppressive errands we shall presently see on the
best of evidence. But that under the great Cnut they were the
instruments of any general system of oppression, that they held the
nation in unwilling submission to a yoke which it was anxious to throw
off, is proved by no evidence whatever. And when England was again ruled
by Kings of her own blood, the housecarls became simply a national
standing army, and an army of which England might well be proud. The
name of the housecarls of King Harold became a name of fear in the most
warlike regions of the North,[959] and it was this brave and faithful
force which was ever foremost in fight and nearest to the royal person
alike in the hour of victory and in the hour of overthrow.
[Sidenote: Foreign policy of Cnut.]
We have still to speak of Cnut’s relations with lands beyond the bounds
of England. This subject starts several important points in the history
of foreign lands; but, as far as English history is concerned, most of
them may be passed by in a few words. Within our own island, we hear
little of Wales, and out of it, Cnut’s wars with the other Scandinavian
powers and his relations to the Empire, though highly important, have
hardly any bearing on English history. The case is different with his
dealings both with Scotland and with Normandy, both of which, the latter
especially, call for a somewhat fuller examination.
Cnut, as King of all England, alike by formal election and by the power
of the sword, of course assumed the same Imperial claims and Imperial
style which had been borne by the Kings who had gone before him. As King
of all England, he was also Emperor of all Britain, Lord [Sidenote:
Relations with Wales.] of all Kings and all nations within his own
island. Of his relations with his Welsh vassals we are driven to pick up
what accounts we can from their own scanty annals. Early in Cnut’s
reign, on what provocation we know not, [Sidenote: Eglaf plunders Saint
David’s. 1022?] the exploit of Eadric Streona[960] was repeated. Wales
was invaded by Eglaf, a Danish Earl in Cnut’s service, probably the same
who had joined in Thurkill’s invasion of England, and who, according to
some accounts, was brother of that more famous chief.[961] He ravaged
the land of Dyfed and destroyed Saint David’s.[962] This is our sole
[Sidenote: 1035?] fact, except that in one of the last years of Cnut’s
reign, a Welsh prince, Caradoc son of Rhydderch, was slain by the
English.[963] Our own Chroniclers do not look on these matters as worthy
of any mention. With Scotland the case is somewhat different, especially
as the affairs of that kingdom are closely mixed up with those of the
great [Sidenote: Affairs of Northumberland and Scotland.] earldom of
Northumberland. We have seen that, on the fourfold division of England,
the great Northern government was entrusted to the Dane Eric, who seems
however [Sidenote: Earldom of Eric;] not to have disturbed the actual
English possessors.[964] He most likely kept a superiority over them
till his own banishment,[965] after which it is clear that the family of
the [Sidenote: of Eadwulf Cutel.] former Earls remained in possession.
The reigning Earl, Eadwulf, the son of the elder Waltheof and brother of
Uhtred, is spoken of as a timid and cowardly man, who, according to one
account, now surrendered Lothian to King Malcolm for fear that he might
avenge the victories won over him by his brother.[966] But if any
cession was made to the Scots at this time, it was most likely
[Sidenote: Battle of Carham. 1018.] extorted by Malcolm by force of
arms. For the second year of Cnut was marked by a Scottish invasion and
a Scottish victory of unusual importance.[967] King Malcolm entered
England, accompanied by Eogan or Eugenius, seemingly an Under-king of
Strathclyde. A great battle took place at Carham on the Tweed, not far
from the scene of the more famous fight of Flodden, in which the Scots
gained a decisive victory over the whole force of the Bernician earldom.
The slaughter, as usual, fell most heavily upon the English nobility.
Bishop Ealdhun is said to have fallen sick on hearing the news, and to
have died in a few days. His great work was all but done. The height of
Durham was now crowned by a church, stately doubtless after the standard
of those times, of which only a single tower lacked completion.[968] It
was doubtless owing to the confusion which followed the Scottish inroad
that three years passed between the death of Ealdhun and the succession
of the next Bishop Eadmund.[969] According to one theory, which I shall
discuss elsewhere,[970] the annexation of Lothian to the Scottish
kingdom was the result of this battle. It is equally strange that a
prince like Cnut should have consented to the cession of any part of his
dominions, and that he should have allowed a Scottish victory to pass
unrevenged. But we do not, in our English authorities, find any mention
of Scottish [Sidenote: Affairs of Cumberland.] affairs till a much later
stage of his reign. According to the Scottish account, Duncan, the
grandson of Malcolm through his daughter Beatrice, who now held the
under-kingdom of Cumberland or Strathclyde, refused, though often
summoned, to do homage to Cnut.[971] His refusal was cloked under a show
of feudal loyalty; his homage was due only to the lawful King of the
English; he would do no kind of service to a Danish usurper. Cnut, after
his return from his Roman pilgrimage, marched against his refractory
vassal, with the intention of incorporating [Sidenote: Submission of
Duncan.] his dominions with the English kingdom. Certain Bishops and
other chief men stepped in to preserve peace, and a compromise was
brought about. Duncan withdrew his claim to independence; Cnut
relinquished his design of complete incorporation; the Under-king of
Cumberland was again to hold his kingdom on the old terms of vassalage.
Such is the Scottish story, which characteristically puts Cumberland in
the foreground, and leaves out all mention both of Scotland proper and
of Lothian. It may very likely be true in what it asserts; it is
eminently false in what it conceals. For there is no doubt that Cnut’s
dealings with his northern neighbours were by no means confined to
Cumberland, but touched Scotland itself quite as nearly. It is just
conceivable that both Duncan and his grandfather Malcolm refused homage
to Cnut on the ground that the Dane was an usurper of the English
kingdom. If so, they were perhaps brought to reason at an earlier time
than would appear from our own Chronicles only. According to a French
historian, an expedition of Cnut against the Scots was hindered, and
peace was restored, by the intercession of the Lady Emma and her brother
Duke Richard. According to a Norwegian saga, two Scottish Kings,
probably Malcolm and Duncan, submitted to [Sidenote: Submission of
Scotland. 1031.] Cnut in the early years of his reign. However all this
may be, it is certain, on the highest of all authorities, that the whole
kingdom of Scotland did in the end submit to his claims. Cnut, like
William after him, was not minded to give up any right of the crown
which he had won. The more famous ceremony of Abernethy forty [Sidenote:
[1073.]] years later was now forestalled. As the younger Malcolm then
became the man of the Norman, so now the elder Malcolm became the man of
the Dane.[972] Cnut, after his return from Rome—in the very year of his
return, according to those who give the later date to that event—marched
into Scotland, meeting, it would seem, with no [Sidenote: Malcolm,
Jehmarc, and Macbeth do homage to Cnut. 1031.] opposition. Malcolm now,
if not before, rendered the long-delayed homage, and he was joined in
his submission by two other Scottish chiefs, the lords of Argyle and of
Moray, on both of whom our Chronicles bestow the title of King. With the
otherwise obscure Jehmarc is coupled a name which holds no small place
in history, but which is far more famous in romance. Along with the
homage of the elder Malcolm King Cnut received also the homage of
Macbeth.
[Sidenote: Import of the homage of the Under-kings.]
This fact that the Under-kings, or princes of whatever rank, within the
kingdom of Scotland, did homage to Cnut is worthy of special notice. It
seems to be a step beyond the terms of the original commendation to
Eadward the Elder. It seems to be a step towards the more complete
submission made by William the Lion to Henry the Second and to the
homage done by all Scotland to the Lord Paramount Edward. The choice of
the English King as Father and Lord over the King and people of the
Scots did not make this or that Scot his “man.”[973] But now, not only
King Malcolm, but Jehmarc and Macbeth became the “men” of the King of
all England. Yet the fact may perhaps be explained another way. When we
remember the later history, we shall perhaps be inclined to look for the
cause of this change in the slight authority possessed by Malcolm over
the lesser Scottish princes. His legendary character paints him as a
King who granted away all his domains, and left himself nothing but the
hill of Scone, the holy place of the Scottish monarchy.[974] And more
authentic history shows that Jehmarc and Macbeth, princes ruling on the
western and eastern shores of the island, were so far independent of the
King of Scots that the homage of Malcolm alone would have been no
sufficient guaranty for the retention of the Scottish kingdom in its
proper submission to the Imperial crown. Macbeth indeed was the
representative of a line which had claims on the Scottish crown itself.
Cnut therefore prudently exacted the homage of Malcolm’s dangerous
vassals as well as that of Malcolm himself. [Sidenote: Death of Malcolm.
1034.] Malcolm, already an old man, survived the ceremony only three
years, and died in the year before the death of his far younger
over-lord.[975] He was succeeded by his grandson Duncan, whose son
Malcolm, surnamed Canmore, afterwards so famous, received, as usual, the
apanage of Cumberland.[976]
[Sidenote: Cnut’s Northern wars.]
Cnut’s wars in the North of Europe have but little connexion with
English history, and there are few events for [Sidenote: Authorities
for their history.] which our historical materials are more
unsatisfactory. Our own Chronicles help us to the dates of some of the
more prominent events; the Norwegian sagas[977] and the rhetorical
Latin of the Danish historian help us to abundance of details, if we
could only accept them as authentic; the Danish chronicles are meagre
beyond words. Happily, to unravel the difficulties and contradictions
of their various statements is no part of the business of an English
historian. It may be enough for our purpose to keep ourselves to those
events which the contemporary chroniclers of England thought worthy of
a place in our own [Sidenote: Revolutions of Norway.] national annals.
The most important among them is the loss and reconquest of Norway by
Cnut, and his wars with its renowned King Olaf the Saint.[978] Norway
had, after [Sidenote: 1000.] the death of Olaf Tryggvesson,[979]
formed part of the dominions of Swegen, and it was entrusted to the
government of his son-in-law Eric, who afterwards held the [Sidenote:
1015.] earldom of Northumberland.[980] When Eric went to England with
Cnut, Hakon the son of Eric remained as Earl in Norway, but was soon
driven out by Olaf Haraldsson. Of this prince, afterwards canonized as
a saint and martyr, we have heard somewhat already;[981] but the part
assigned to him in English affairs evidently belongs to romance and
not to history. His career in his own country is more [Sidenote: Reign
of Saint Olaf. 1015–1028.] authentic and more important. The rule of
Olaf was at first acceptable to the country; but both his virtues and
his faults gradually raised up enemies against him. He was
preeminently a reformer. His strictness in the administration of
justice, the first of virtues in a prince of those times, is highly
praised.[982] He was moreover a zealous Christian; his whole soul was
devoted to spreading throughout his kingdom the blessings of religion
and civilization, and to reforming the manners and morals of his
people in every way. He brought bishops and other churchmen from
England, and, not satisfied with the evangelization of his own
kingdom, he employed them as missionaries in Sweden, Gothland, and the
neighbouring islands.[983] But, just like the elder Olaf, his choice
of means was often less praiseworthy than the excellence of his
objects. The reformer tried by harshness and violence to force on a
rude people manners and institutions for which they were not ready,
and the Christian missionary sank into a persecutor of those who clave
to the creed of their fathers. In his lofty ideas of kingly power,
Olaf set little store by the rights either of the ancient chiefs or of
the free peasantry of the land, and, in dealing with these enemies, he
did not shrink from acts of merciless cruelty.[984] Meanwhile Cnut was
keeping as careful an eye on Norway as his father had kept on England;
but, like his father, he knew how to bide his time. A summons to Olaf
to hold the crown of Norway as his vassal was rejected;[985] war
followed, [Sidenote: Cnut’s defeat at the Helga. 1025.] and Cnut’s
first expedition was unsuccessful. Olaf allied himself with the
Swedish King Omund, and their joint forces inflicted a defeat on
Cnut’s combined Danish [Sidenote: Cnut’s intrigues in Norway. 1027.]
and English army at the river Helga in Scania.[986] Two years later,
by dint of bribes and promises and by studiously taking advantage of
Olaf’s growing unpopularity, Cnut contrived to raise up a powerful
party in Norway which was prepared to accept his own pretensions.[987]
In the next year, when Cnut sailed to Norway with fifty ships, Olaf
was completely forsaken by his people, and [Sidenote: Cnut expels
Olaf, and is chosen King of all Norway. 1028.] had to take refuge in
Russia. Cnut was everywhere welcomed, and he was chosen King of all
Norway by the Thing at Trondhjem, just as he had been, eleven years
before, chosen King of all England by the Gemót at London.[988] A
later attempt of Olaf to recover his kingdom [Sidenote: Olaf killed at
Stikkelstad. 1030.] was resisted by the Norwegians themselves; he fell
in the fight of Stikkelstad, and the Church looked on him as a
martyr.[989]
[Sidenote: Cnut’s friendly relations with the Empire.]
Cnut, King of five or, as some reckon, six kingdoms, seems to have
looked upon himself as Emperor of the North, and to have held himself in
all respects as the peer of his Roman brother.[990] Earlier and later
Danish Kings were fain to own themselves the vassals of Cæsar; but
before the power of Cnut the Roman Terminus himself had to give way.
With the Frankish Emperor Conrad the mighty ruler of Northern Europe was
on the best terms. Cnut, as we have seen, made his acquaintance and
friendship in his Imperial capital, and bore a part in the splendours of
his Imperial consecration. The alliance was cemented by a treaty of
marriage between their children, and by a cession of territory on the
part of the potentate [Sidenote: Marriage of Gunhild to King Henry of
Germany. 1036.] higher in formal rank. Gunhild, the daughter of Cnut and
Emma, was betrothed to Conrad’s son King Henry, afterwards the renowned
Emperor Henry the Third. The marriage however did not take place till
after the death of the bride’s father, and Gunhild, like her predecessor
Eadgyth, was destined to be neither the wife nor the mother of an
Emperor. Gunhild, like Eadgyth, died before her husband succeeded to the
Empire, and his successor was the offspring of his second and better
known marriage with Agnes of Poitiers.[991]
[Sidenote: Cnut recovers the frontier of the Eider.]
The more strictly political result of the friendship between Cnut and
Conrad was the restoration of the ancient frontier between Denmark and
Germany. After the victorious expedition of Otto the Second into
Denmark, a German mark had been established beyond the Eider, extending
from that river to the Dannewirk, the great bulwark which Gorm and Thyra
had reared against the Southern invader. This was the first step in that
process which has gradually Germanized a part of Southern Jutland,
[Sidenote: 1864–6.] and which has at last handed over an unwilling
Scandinavian population as the victims of Prussian greed of territorial
aggrandizement. Cnut, by treaty with the Emperor, and seemingly as the
price of his daughter, recovered the ancient frontier with which Charles
the Great had been content, and which remained the boundary of the two
realms till that general removing of ancient landmarks which belongs
only to the more refined diplomacy of modern times.
[Sidenote: Affairs of Normandy.]
We have now, last of all, to look to the position of Cnut with reference
to the Duchy of Normandy. I have already, in speaking of Cnut’s
ecclesiastical policy, had occasion to mention the close connexion which
he kept up with more than one part of Gaul. He was the special friend of
Duke William of Aquitaine, surnamed the Great, a prince whose tastes
were in many respects congenial with his own. He sent him embassies and
gifts, among them a splendid book of devotions in golden letters.[992]
But Cnut’s most important relations among the states of Gaul were with
the great duchy which lay opposite to his southern shores, and where his
banished stepsons were being brought up as his possible rivals. The last
event in the internal history of Normandy which I recorded was the
[Sidenote: [997.]] great revolt of the Norman peasantry at the beginning
of the reign of Richard the Good. The new Duke was, in the full sense of
the word, a Frenchman. Whatever had become of the original homage of
Rolf, the commendation of Richard the Fearless to Hugh the Great[993]
was still in [Sidenote: Friendly relations with France. 996–1031.] full
force. Richard was the loyal vassal and faithful ally of the Parisian
King; his friendship with Robert, the second King of that house, seems
to have always remained unbroken, and the two princes acted together in
various expeditions. The Normans were by this time thoroughly
naturalized in their Gaulish possessions. In the records of the time
they appear as recognized and honoured members of the French monarchy.
The memory of their foreign and heathen descent is forgotten; their
prince is no longer the mere Duke of Pirates,[994] whom a loyal
Frenchman spoke of as seldom as he could; the cherished ally of the
Parisian King is now spoken of with every respect as the Duke of
Rouen.[995] The chief French historian of the time is as ready to
exaggerate the external power and influence of the second Richard as
ever his own Dudo was to exaggerate those of his father.[996] Richard,
on the other hand, did not hesitate to have his gifts to his own Fécamp
confirmed by his over-lord,[997] and he dated his public acts by the
regnal years of the King.[998] And no wonder; for it is plain that the
Norman Duke [Sidenote: Strict alliance between King Robert and Duke
Richard.] was the mainstay of the French kingdom. Robert, though the
most pious of men, could not avoid either temporal warfare,
ecclesiastical censures, or domestic oppression.[999] In the last two
classes of afflictions Norman help could hardly avail him, but in all
Robert’s wars Richard proved a steady and valuable ally. The help of the
Norman [Sidenote: 1003.] Duke enabled his over-lord to maintain his
claims over the ducal Burgundy,[1000] and Norman troops served along
with those both of the French King and of the German Cæsar in a war
against their common vassal of Flanders. The [Sidenote: 1006.] Imperial
and royal saints united their forces against the city of Valenciennes,
and the more purely temporal help of [Sidenote: Friendly relations with
Britanny.] the Norman Duke was arrayed on the same side.[1001] With his
Breton neighbours or vassals Richard was on good terms. The friendship
between him and the Breton Count Geoffrey was cemented by an exchange of
sisters between [Sidenote: 1008.] the two princes. Richard married
Judith of Britanny,[1002] and Hadwisa of Normandy became the wife of
Geoffrey, on whose death her sons, Alan and Odo, were placed under the
guardianship of their uncle and lord.[1003] With another neighbour and
brother-in-law Richard found it less easy to remain on friendly terms.
His sister Matilda had married Odo the Second, Count of Chartres, the
grandson of the old enemy Theobald. The town and part of the district of
Dreux had been given to Odo as her marriage [Sidenote: War with Odo of
Chartres.] portion,[1004] and this, on her death, he refused to give
back. A war followed, which was made conspicuous by the foundation of
the famous castle of Tillières,[1005] which long remained a border
fortress of Normandy. Of course every effort of Odo to take or surprise
the Norman outpost was rendered hopeless by Norman valour, and yet we
are told that Richard found it expedient to resort to help of a very
questionable kind to support him against his enemy. The Normans were now
Frenchmen; Duke Richard and his court of gentlemen[1006] had doubtless
quite forgotten their Scandinavian mother-tongue; some traces of the old
nationality may still have lingered at Bayeux, but, as a whole, Normandy
was now French in language, feeling, and religion. But the old connexion
with the North was still cherished. We have already seen how the
friendly reception which the Danish invaders of England met with in the
Norman ports had led to hostile relations between Normandy and
England.[1007] So now we have the old story of Harold Blaatand over
again.[1008] Richard, like his father, does not scruple to bring heathen
invaders into Gaul to help him against his Christian enemies. And, just
as in the second appearance of Harold Blaatand, this shameful help is
called in at a time when there seems to be no need for if, at a time
when the Norman arms are completely victorious. Odo could surely have
been crushed by the combined forces of Normandy and Britanny,[1009] even
if King Robert was not disposed to repay [Sidenote: Brittany ravaged by
two heathen Kings, Lacman and Olaf. 1013?] in kind the services of his
loyal vassal. The tale however, as we find it, represents the Norman
Duke as entering into a league with two heathen Kings, who were engaged
in inflicting the most cruel ravages on his own vassals and allies of
Britanny, having just taken and burned the frontier city of Dol.[1010]
These Kings are described as Lacman of Sweden and Olaf of Norway. With
regard to the former there must be a mistake of some kind, as no King
bearing any such name occurs in Swedish [Sidenote: Identity of this Olaf
with Saint Olaf Haraldsson.] history. But we are given to understand
that the Olaf spoken of was no other than the famous Olaf Haraldsson the
Saint.[1011] One story of the early life of Olaf seems to be about as
mythical as another; but something is proved when two independent
narratives agree. Of the busy career in England which the Northern
legend assigns to Olaf not a trace is to be found in any English writer.
But the presence of Olaf in Normandy is asserted alike [Sidenote:
Richard allies himself with them.] by Norman and by Norwegian tradition.
According to the Norman tale, the ravagers of Britanny left their prey,
sailed to Rouen in answer to the Duke’s summons, [Sidenote: Mediation of
King Robert.] and were there honourably received by him. But if Duke
Richard did not shrink from such guests at Rouen, King Robert was
naturally afraid of their appearance at Paris. After the treatment which
the Bretons had received, all Gaul was endangered by their
presence.[1012] The King then held, what is so rare in the history of
France, so common in that of England and Germany, an assembly of the
Princes of his realm.[1013] The royal summons was obeyed both by the
Duke of the Normans and by the Count of Chartres. Peace was made by the
mediation of the King; Count Odo kept his town of Dreux, and Duke
Richard kept his new fortress of Tillières. The heathen Kings were to be
got rid of as they might. Duke Richard persuaded them by rich gifts to
go away then, and to promise to come again if they were wanted. One of
them, Olaf, was converted to Christianity with many of his comrades. He
was baptized by Archbishop Robert, and his career of sanctity begins
forthwith.[1014]
[Sidenote: Amount of truth to be found in these stories.]
Stories of this kind can hardly be admitted into history without a
certain amount of dread lest the historian may prove to have opened his
text for the reception of a mere piece of romance. They are stories
which we cannot venture unhesitatingly to accept, but which we are not
at all in a position unhesitatingly to deny. They are stories of which
it is safest to say that the details are sure to be mythical, but that
there is likely to be some groundwork of truth at the bottom. It is
impossible to read this tale of the alliance of Richard the Good with
Olaf and Lacman, without a lurking feeling that it may be the tale of
Richard the Fearless and Harold Blaatand moved from its old place and
fitted with a new set of names. If we get thus far, it is hardly
possible to avoid going a step further, and asking whether the mythical
element is not strong in the tale of Harold Blaatand himself. And it is
hardly less difficult to read the story of the two heathen Kings, of
whom one is converted, while the other seemingly goes away stiffnecked
in his old errors, without asking whether the tale is not merely a
repetition of the history of the dealings of Æthelred with Swegen and
Olaf Tryggvesson twenty years before.[1015] Still we are hardly
justified in altogether rejecting stories which we cannot disprove, and
which rest on authority, certainly not first-rate, but still such as we
are generally content to accept for statements which have no inherent
[Sidenote: Their witness to the abiding connexion between Normandy and
the North.] unlikelihood about them. And after all, in this particular
case, the mere existence of the stories proves something of more
importance than the particular facts which they profess to relate.
Whether the tales either of Harold or of Olaf be historically true or
not, the fact that such tales could obtain belief, and could find a
place in recognized Norman history, shows that a strong feeling of
connexion between Normandy and the Scandinavian mother-land must have
lived on, even after all outward traces of Scandinavian descent had
passed away.
[Sidenote: Foreign expeditions and conquests of the Normans.]
Another feature in Norman history, which has its beginning in the reign
of Richard the Good, is still more closely connected with our immediate
subject. It was in the days of this prince that the Normans of the
Norman duchy began to play an independent part beyond their own borders,
and to enter on that series of foreign expeditions and foreign conquests
of which the Norman Conquest of England was the last and greatest
example.[1016] The earlier Dukes had founded the duchy; they had
enlarged its borders; they had defended it against aggression from
without, and had developed its resources within. The alliance between
Richard the Good and King Robert had caused the Norman arms to be felt
and dreaded throughout the length and breadth of Gaul. But now the
limits both of the Norman duchy and of the French kingdom became too
narrow for the energies both of the sovereigns of Normandy and of their
subjects. The part played by the Normans in Europe had hitherto been
partly defensive and partly secondary. They had withstood French,
English, and German invasions, and they had aided their lords, ducal and
royal, at Paris in a variety of military adventures. But now that no
invader was to be feared, now that the Norman state held a fully
established position in France and in Europe, the old Scandinavian
spirit of distant enterprise and distant conquest awoke again. The
Christian and French-speaking Norman was now as ready to jeopard his
life and fortune in distant lands as ever his heathen and Scandinavian
forefathers had been. The days of the actual crusades had not yet come,
but already, while warfare of all kinds had charms, warfare against
misbelievers was beginning to be clothed with a special charm in the
eyes of the Christian chivalry of Normandy. As yet no distant conquest
had been undertaken by any Norman Duke. Yet even under Richard the Good
we find the power of Normandy employed beyond the bounds of the French
kingdom, and in a cause which was not that of any immediate interest
[Sidenote: Burgundian War. 1024.] of the Norman duchy. Besides the
campaign in which Duke Richard vindicated the claim of his over-lord
over the ducal Burgundy, he carried his arms beyond the frontier of the
Western Kingdom into that further Burgundy which still kept its own line
of Kings, and which was soon to return to its allegiance to Cæsar.
Reginald, Count of the Burgundian Palatinate, had married Richard’s
daughter Adeliza. Towards the end of Richard’s reign, this prince fell
into the hands of his turbulent neighbour, Hugh, Count of Challon[1017]
and Bishop of Auxerre. Hugh was a vassal of France, while Reginald’s
dominions were held in fief of the last Burgundian King, the feeble
Rudolf, himself little better than a vassal of the Emperor. But neither
King nor Cæsar stepped forward to chastise the wrong-doer or to set free
the captive. It was a Norman army, under the young Richard, son of the
Duke, which presently taught the Count-prelate that a son-in-law of the
Duke of the Normans could not be wronged with impunity.[1018]
But far greater and more enduring exploits than these were wrought
during the reign of Richard, not by the public force of the Norman
duchy, but by the restless energy of private Norman adventurers. An
attempt to establish a Norman settlement in Spain came to nought; but in
this period were laid the foundations of that great Norman settlement in
Southern Italy which had such an [Sidenote: Exploits of Roger of Toesny
in Spain. 1018.] important effect on the future history of Europe. Roger
of Toesny was the first to carry the Norman arms into the Spanish
peninsula. Spain had long before attracted the attention of a Norman
sovereign; it was to Spain, as a heathen land, to which Richard the
Fearless had persuaded the unbelieving portion of his Scandinavian
allies to depart.[1019] It was in Spain, as the battle-ground of
Christian and Saracen, that Roger now sought at once to wage warfare
against the misbeliever and to carve out a dominion for himself. Roger
was of the noblest blood of Normandy, boasting a descent from Malahulc,
uncle of Rolf,[1020] and he may well have looked down upon the upstart
gentlemen whose nobility had no higher source than the tardy bridal of
their kinswoman Gunnor.[1021] Roger fought manfully against the
infidels, and marvellous tales are told of his daring, his hard-won
victories, his deeds of cannibal ferocity.[1022] He married the daughter
of the widowed Countess of Barcelona, a princess whose dominions were
practically Spanish, though her formal allegiance was due to the
Parisian King. This marriage was doubtless designed as the beginning of
a Norman principality in Spain; but the scheme failed to take any
lasting root.
[Sidenote: Norman Conquest of Apulia and Sicily. 1016–1090.]
The exploits of the Normans in Italy, which began in the reign of
Richard, form a theme of the highest interest, but one on which it is
dangerous to enter, lest I should be drawn too far away both from my
central subject and from those which directly bear upon it. On English,
and even on Norman, affairs the influence of these great events was
[Sidenote: The Conquest of England perhaps partly suggested by it.]
merely indirect. One can hardly doubt that the wonderful successes of
their countrymen in the South of Europe did much to suggest to the minds
of those Normans who stayed at home that a still greater conquest nearer
home was not wholly hopeless. The unsuccessful attempt of Duke Robert,
which we shall presently have to mention, and the successful attempt of
his greater son, may well have been partly suggested by the exploits of
the sons of Tancred in Apulia. When private adventurers thus grew into
sovereigns, what might not be done by the sovereign of Normandy himself,
wielding the whole force of the land which gave birth to men like them?
For it must be remembered that the Norman conquest of Apulia was no
national enterprise, no conquest made in regular warfare waged by the
Duke of the Normans against any other potentate. Private Norman
adventurers, pilgrims returning from the Holy Land, Norman subjects
under the displeasure of their own Duke,[1023] gentlemen of small estate
whom the paternal acres could no longer maintain, gradually deprived the
Roman Empire of the East[1024] of the remnant of its Western
possessions, and won back the greatest of Mediterranean islands from the
dominion of Mahomet to that of Christ. The sons of Tancred of Hauteville
began as wikings who had changed their element; they gradually grew into
Counts, Dukes, Kings, and Emperors. And, when the first horrors of
conquest were over, no conquerors, not even Cnut himself, ever deserved
better of the conquered. The noble island of Sicily, so long the
battle-field of Europe and Africa, the land which Greece, Rome,
Byzantium, had so long striven to guard or to recover from the
incursions of the Carthaginian and the Arab, became, under her Norman
Kings, the one example of really equal and tolerant government which the
world could then show. Under the Norman sceptre the two most civilized
races of the world,[1025] the Greek and the Saracen, could live together
in peace, and could enrich their common country with the results of
skill [Sidenote: Conquest of Sicily by Henry the Sixth. 1194–5.] and
industry such as no Northern realm could rival. For once we are driven
to blush for our common Teutonic blood, when we see how this favoured
portion of the world, the one spot where contending creeds and races
could display their best qualities under the sway of a common and
impartial ruler, was enslaved and devastated and trodden under foot by
the selfish ambition of a Teutonic invader.
The relations of Richard with England, his war with Æthelred,[1026] his
dealings with Swegen,[1027] his reception of his fugitive brother-in-law
and his children,[1028] have been already [Sidenote: Unbroken peace
between Richard and Cnut.] spoken of. With Cnut he seems to have
maintained perfect peace. His nephews, the sons of Æthelred and Emma,
found shelter at his court, but only shelter. Of any attempt on their
behalf, of any interference in the internal affairs of England, the wary
Duke seems never to have thought. We must hasten on to the reign of
another Norman prince, whose relations to our island were widely
different.
[Sidenote: Death of Richard. 1026.]
Richard died after a reign of thirty years. Before his death he
assembled the chief men of his duchy, and by their advice he settled the
duchy itself on his eldest son Richard, and the county of Hiesmes on his
second son [Sidenote: Reign of Richard the Third.] Robert as his
brother’s vassal.[1029] Disputes arose between the brothers; Robert was
besieged in his castle of Falaise, and when peace was made by the
submission of Robert, the Duke did not long survive his success. After a
reign of two years he died by poison,[1030] as was generally believed,
[Sidenote: Robert succeeds. 1028.] and was succeeded by his
brother.[1031] Robert, known as the Magnificent,[1032] is most familiar
to us in English history as the father of the Conqueror. But he has no
small claims on our notice on his own account. What the son carried out,
the father had already attempted. Robert was in will, though not in
deed, the first Norman conqueror of England.[1033] In the early part of
his reign he had to struggle against several revolts in his own
dominions. [Sidenote: He suppresses revolts at home.] We are not
directly told what were the grounds of opposition to his government; but
we are at least not surprised to hear of revolts against a prince who
had attained to his sovereignty under circumstances so suspicious. But
Robert overthrew all his domestic enemies,[1034] and he is at least not
charged with any special cruelty in the reestablishment [Sidenote: He
reduces Britanny to submission.] of his authority. With Britanny he did
not remain on the same friendly terms as his father. His cousin Alan
refused his homage, but he was brought to submission.[1035] In this
warfare Neal of Saint-Saviour, who had so valiantly beaten off the
English in their invasion of the Côtentin, appears side by side with a
warrior whose name of Ælfred raises the strongest presumption of his
English birth. The banishments of the earlier days of Cnut will easily
account for so rare an event as that of an Englishman taking service
under a foreign prince.[1036] But it was as the protector of unfortunate
princes that Robert seems to have been most anxious to appear before the
[Sidenote: He restores Baldwin of Flanders.] world. Baldwin of Flanders,
driven from his dominions by his rebellious son, was restored by the
power of the Norman Duke.[1037] A still more exalted suppliant presently
implored his help. His liege lord, Henry, King of the French, was driven
to claim the support of the mightiest of his vassals against foes who
were of his own household. [Sidenote: King Robert and his sons.] King
Robert had at first designed the royal succession for his eldest son
Hugh, whom, according to a custom common in France, though unusual in
England, he caused [Sidenote: Hugh is crowned and dies before him.] to
be crowned in his lifetime.[1038] Hugh, a prince whose merits, we are
told, were such that a party in Italy looked to him as a candidate for
the Imperial crown,[1039] was, after some disputes with his father,
reconciled to him, and died before him. Robert then chose as his
successor his second son Henry, who was already invested with the
[Sidenote: Henry crowned in his father’s lifetime.] duchy of Burgundy.
Henry was accordingly accepted and crowned at Rheims.[1040] But the
arrangement displeased Queen Constance, who was bent on the promotion of
her [Sidenote: Death of King Robert.] third son Richard. On King
Robert’s death, Constance and Richard expelled Henry, who took refuge
with his [Sidenote: Henry expelled, and restored] Norman vassal, and was
restored by his help, Richard being allowed to receive his brother’s
duchy of Burgundy.[1041] [Sidenote: by Duke Robert. 1031.] The policy of
Hugh the Great had indeed won for his house a mighty protector in the
descendant of the pirates.
[Sidenote: The English Æthelings in Normandy.]
But there were other banished princes who had a nearer claim upon Duke
Robert than his Flemish neighbour, a nearer personal claim than even his
lord at Paris. The English Æthelings, his cousins Eadward and Ælfred,
were still at his court, banished from the land of their fathers, while
the Danish invader filled the throne of their fathers. Their mother had
wholly forgotten them; their uncle had made no effort on their behalf;
Robert, their cousin, was the first kinsman who deemed it any part of
his business to assert their right to a crown which seemed to [Sidenote:
Contradictory evidence as to the relations between Cnut and Robert.]
have hopelessly passed away from their house. That Robert did make an
attempt to restore them, that the relations between him and Cnut were
unfriendly on other grounds, there seems no reason to doubt. But when we
ask for dates and details, we are at once plunged into every kind of
confusion and contradiction. The English writers are silent; from the
German writers we learn next to nothing; the Scandinavian history of
this age is still at least half mythical; the Norman writers never held
truth to be of any moment when the relations of Normandy and England
were concerned. That Robert provoked Cnut by threats or attempts to
restore the Æthelings, and also by ill-treating and repudiating Cnut’s
sister, seem to be facts which we may accept in the bare outline,
whatever we say as to their minuter details. That Cnut retaliated by an
invasion of Normandy, or that the threat of such an invasion had an
effect on the conduct of the sovereigns of Normandy, are positions which
are strongly asserted by various authorities. But their stories are
accompanied by circumstances which directly contradict the witness of
authorities which are far more trustworthy. In fact, the moment we get
beyond the range of the sober contemporary Chronicles of our own land,
we find ourselves in a region in which the mythical and romantic
elements outweigh the historical, and moreover, in whatever comes from
Norman sources, we have to be on our guard against interested invention
as well as against honest error.
[Sidenote: Marriages of Estrith with Ulf and Robert.]
We have seen that Estrith, a sister of Cnut, was married to the Danish
Earl Ulf, the brother-in-law of Godwine, to whom she bore the famous
Swegen Estrithson, afterwards King of the Danes, one of the most
renowned princes in Danish history. We are told by a crowd of
authorities that, besides her marriage with Ulf, Estrith was married to
the Duke of the Normans, that she was ill-treated by him in various
ways, and was finally sent back with ignominy to her brother. Most of
the writers who tell this story place this marriage before her marriage
with Ulf, and make the Danish Earl take the divorced [Sidenote: Supposed
wars between Cnut and Robert.] wife of the Norman Duke. With this story
several writers connect another story of an invasion, or threatened
invasion, of Normandy undertaken by Cnut in order to redress his
sister’s wrongs. The most popular Danish writer even makes Cnut die, in
contradiction to all authentic history, while besieging Rouen. We read
also how the Norman Duke fled to Jerusalem or elsewhere for fear of the
anger of the lord of six Northern kingdoms. Details of this kind are
plainly mythical; but they point to some real quarrel, to some war,
threatened if not actually waged, between Cnut and Robert. And
chronology, as well as the tone of the legends, shows that the whole of
these events must be placed quite late in Cnut’s reign. [Sidenote:
Robert probably married Estrith.] The natural inference is that the
marriage between Robert and Estrith took place, not before Estrith’s
marriage with Ulf, but after Ulf’s death. The widow was richly
[Sidenote: after Ulf’s death. c. 1026.] endowed; her brother had atoned
for the slaughter of her husband by territorial grants which might well
have moved the greed of the Norman. A superior attraction nearer his own
castle may easily account for Robert’s neglect of his Scandinavian
bride, a bride no doubt many years older than the young Count of
Hièsmes. Within three years after Estrith’s widowhood, Robert became the
father of him who was preeminently the Bastard.[1042]
[Sidenote: Robert’s intervention on behalf of the Æthelings. 1028–1035.]
It seems impossible to doubt that Robert’s intervention on behalf of his
English cousins was connected with these events. The reign of Robert
coincides with the last seven years of the reign of Cnut, so that any
intervention of Robert in English affairs must have been in Cnut’s later
days. Each prince would doubtless seize every opportunity of annoying
the other; the tale clearly sets Robert before us as the aggressor; but
as to the order of events we are left to guess. It would be perfectly
natural, in a man of Robert’s character, if the repudiation of Estrith
was accompanied, or presently followed, by the assertion of the claims
of the Æthelings to her brother’s crown. The date then of the first
contemplated Norman invasion of England can be fixed only within a few
years; but the story, as we read it in the Norman accounts, seems
credible enough in its general outline.[1043] The Duke sends an embassy
to Cnut, demanding, it would seem, the cession of the whole kingdom of
England to the rightful heir. That Cnut refused to surrender his crown
is nothing wonderful, though the Norman writer seems shocked that the
exhortation of the Norman ambassadors did not at once bring conviction
to [Sidenote: Robert’s unsuccessful attempt] the mind of the
usurper.[1044] The Duke then, in great wrath, determines to assert the
claims of his kinsmen by force of [Sidenote: to invade England.] arms.
An assembly of the Normans is held, a forerunner of the more famous
assembly at Lillebonne, in which the invasion of England is determined
on. A fleet is made ready with all haste, and Duke Robert and the
Ætheling Eadward embark at Fécamp. But the wind was contrary; instead of
being carried safely to Pevensey, the fleet was carried round the
Côtentin and found itself on the coast of Jersey.[1045] All attempts
were vain; the historian piously adds that they were frustrated by a
special Providence, because God had determined that his servant Eadward
should make his way to the English crown without the shedding of
blood.[1046] The Duke accordingly gave up his enterprise on behalf of
his cousin of England, and employed his fleet in a further harrying of
the dominions of his cousin of Britanny.[1047] At last Robert,
Archbishop of Rouen, the common uncle of Robert and Alan,[1048]
reconciled the two princes, and the fleet seems now to have sailed to
Rouen.[1049] Thus far we have a story, somewhat heightened in its
details, but which may be taken as evidence that Robert, who had
restored the fugitive sovereigns of France and Flanders, really thought
of carrying on his calling of King-maker beyond the sea. Robert, a
thorough knight-errant, doubtless designed the restoration of his cousin
in perfect good faith, and with no more intention of any gain to himself
than he had shown in the [Sidenote: Probable results of the success of
such an invasion.] restorations of Baldwin and Henry. But if a Norman
army had once landed in England, it would not have been so easy to bring
it home again as it was to bring home an army which had simply marched
into France or Flanders. Cnut, with no Tostig, no Harold Hardrada, to
divert him from the main danger, and with the force of his other
kingdoms ready to back him, would most likely have speedily crushed the
invader. But had it been otherwise, one can hardly fancy that the
results of the English expedition would have been of as little moment as
the results of the French and the Flemish expedition. In France and
Flanders Robert had simply turned the scale between two princes of the
same house. But if a Norman army had set one of the sons of Æthelred on
the English throne, the result would have been something more than a
mere personal change of sovereign. Had Eadward held his crown by virtue
of a victory won by Norman troops over Cnut’s Danes and Englishmen, the
practical aspect of such a revolution could have hardly differed at all
from the revolution which did take place under William. The prince thus
established in his kingdom would have been, according to formal
pedigrees, the _cyne-hlaford_, the descendant of Ælfred, Cerdic, and
Woden. But half-Norman by birth, wholly Norman in feeling, raised to his
throne by Norman swords, Eadward would have reigned still more
thoroughly as a Frenchman than he did reign when, a few years later, he
came to the crown in a more peaceable way. The storm, or whatever it
was, which kept back Duke Robert from his invasion of England, put off
the chances of a Norman Conquest for nearly forty years.
[Sidenote: Cnut said to have offered the succession of Wessex to the
Æthelings.]
The Norman writers wind up their story with an assertion which is much
less credible than their account of the expedition itself. Robert, on
his return from his Breton expedition, was met in the very nick of
time[1050] by ambassadors from Cnut offering half of the kingdom of
England to the sons of Æthelred. The lord of Northern Europe was sick,
and felt himself near his end; he therefore wished for peace during the
remnant of his days.[1051] Of course this is not to be understood as an
offer of an immediate surrender of any part of his dominions. What is
meant is that Cnut offered to secure peace with Normandy by
acknowledging Eadward as his successor in the kingdom of Wessex. The
Norman and the Danish accounts may be set one against another. Any
number of embassies may have passed between the two princes; any amount
of mutual threatenings may have been exchanged; but Cnut’s fear of
Robert and Robert’s fear of Cnut may [Sidenote: Improbability of the
story.] be set aside as equally mythical. The Norman story is utterly
improbable. Nothing could be more unlikely than a disposition made by
Cnut in favour of either of his stepsons. He could have no personal
motive for alienating any portion of his dominions from his own
children. In almost any other case the influence of his wife would
supply a natural and sufficient motive for such an arrangement. But all
that we hear of Emma leads us to believe that her whole heart was set on
Harthacnut and Gunhild, and that she was not at all likely to use her
influence on behalf of her sons by Æthelred. And had Cnut made any such
disposition in favour of Eadward or Ælfred, it could hardly have failed
to leave some trace in English history. But among all the disputes which
followed on the death of Cnut, we hear not a word of the claims of the
Æthelings, we hear nothing of any single voice raised in their
favour.[1052] Still that tale may have been the distortion of something
which really happened. We must not forget that Harthacnut was Robert’s
cousin no less than Eadward. It may be that some announcement or
confirmation of Cnut’s intentions in his favour, as opposed to the
succession of Harold or Swegen, may have been made by Cnut to the Norman
Duke. Such an announcement might easily have been mistaken by Norman
writers, ill informed about English affairs, for a disposition in favour
of another son of Emma.
[Sidenote: Deaths of Cnut and Robert.]
Whatever the relations between Cnut and Robert may have been, the two
princes died in the same year.[1053] When Cnut made his pilgrimage to
Rome, religious motives were doubtless the leading cause of his journey.
But the politic King knew how to make use of the errand which was to
profit his soul in order to advance at once his own power and credit and
the interests of the many nations over which he ruled. A fit of purer
religious enthusiasm, a fierce impulse of penitence for past sins,
carried Robert of Normandy on the more distant pilgrimage to
Jerusalem.[1054] On his return he died at the [Sidenote: Robert dies at
Nikaia. July 2, 1035.] Bithynian Nikaia; some say by the same fate by
which he was suspected of having made away with his own brother.[1055]
In his lifetime he had begun to rear the noble abbey of Cerisy, where,
after many changes and mutilations, some parts still remain to witness
to the severe grandeur of the taste of Robert and his age.[1056] But the
bones of its founder were not destined to rest among its massive pillars
or beneath the bold arches which span the width of its stately nave. The
relics which he had collected in the East were borne by his chamberlain
Toustain to the sanctuary which he had founded,[1057] but the great Duke
of the Normans[1058] himself found his last home in the lands beyond the
Hellespont, beneath the spreading cupolas of a Byzantine basilica at
Nikaia.[1059] The Norman thus died a stranger and a pilgrim in a land of
another tongue [Sidenote: Cnut dies at Shaftesbury. November 12, 1035.]
and another worship. The Dane too ended his days in a land which was not
his by birth; but it was in a land in which, if he had entered it as a
destroyer, he had truly reigned as a father. Cnut, Emperor of six
kingdoms, but in a special manner King of the old West-Saxon realm, died
within the West-Saxon border, at a spot hallowed by memories of Ælfred,
beneath the shadow of his minster at Shaftesbury.[1060] As an English
King by adoption, if not by birth, he found a grave among the English
Kings who had gone before him, in the Old Minster of his West-Saxon
capital. The two rivals, if rivals they were, passed from the Western
world almost at the same moment; the death of Cnut happened about the
time when the death of Robert must have become known in England and in
Normandy. The dominions of both rulers passed away to their spurious or
doubtful offspring. The son of Herleva succeeded in Normandy; the
supposed son of “the other Ælfgifu” succeeded in [Sidenote: Contrast
between their successors.] England. But if there be a wide difference
between the fame of the two fathers, it is far more than overbalanced by
the difference between the fame of their sons. A reign of a few obscure
years of crime and confusion forms the sole memory of the Bastard of
Northampton, while the world has ever since rung, and while it lasts it
can hardly ever fail to ring, with the mighty name of the Bastard of
Falaise.
§ 3. _The Reign of Harold the Son of Cnut._ 1035–1040.
[Sidenote: Extent of Cnut’s Empire.]
The good fortune of Cnut had raised him up an Empire in Northern Europe
to which there was no parallel before or after him. Setting aside
descriptions of his power which are manifestly gross exaggerations, he
united the kingdom of England and its dependencies with the kingdoms of
Denmark and Norway. As to his intentions with regard to the disposition
of these vast dominions after his death our information is unfortunately
most [Sidenote: Comparison between the partition of the Empire of Cnut
and that of Charles.] meagre. It seems clear that, like Charles the
Great, he designed a partition among his children; it is not clear
whether, like Charles, he designed to keep up any kind of connexion
among his various kingdoms, by the investiture of one among his sons
with any Imperial superiority over the others.[1061] Like Charles, he
had established his sons as kings during his lifetime in his subordinate
[Sidenote: England the centre of Cnut’s Empire.] kingdoms. I say
subordinate kingdoms, because nothing can be plainer than that, in
Cnut’s eyes, Denmark and Norway were little more than dependencies of
England. [Sidenote: The Scandinavian States ruled by Under-kings.]
England was the seat of his own dominion, while the Scandinavian
kingdoms were entrusted to viceroys or Under-kings. Swegen, with his
mother Ælfgifu, had reigned in Norway; Denmark, it would seem, had been
placed at one time under Harold and at another under Harthacnut. In both
countries we see signs of disaffection towards Cnut’s government, while
we see none such in England. The rule of Swegen and his mother is said
to have been highly oppressive in Norway. In Denmark we even hear of an
attempt, headed by Earl Ulf and said to be favoured by Queen Emma, to
displace Cnut in favour of Harthacnut. The reason assigned is the
preference shown [Sidenote: Impossibility of retaining the connexion
between England and Scandinavia.] by Cnut to England and Englishmen. If
then Cnut had any idea of permanently annexing his Scandinavian
possessions to his English Empire, any idea, in short, of reducing
Denmark and Norway to the condition of Wales and Scotland, such schemes
had very little chance of any lasting success. Wales and Scotland were
part of the same island with England, yet to keep them in any lasting
subjection was always hard; to keep countries so remote as [Sidenote:
Ephemeral nature of such] Denmark and Norway was hopelessly impossible.
Empires like those of Alexander, Charles, and Cnut are in their own
[Sidenote: Empires in general.] nature ephemeral. The process of their
formation may, as in the cases of Alexander and Charles, leave results
behind it which affect the whole later history of the world; but the
Empires themselves are ephemeral. As united dominions, swayed by a
single will, they last only as long as there is an Alexander or a
Charles at their head; they fall to pieces as soon as the sceptre of the
great conqueror passes into weaker hands. So it was with the
Anglo-Scandinavian Empire of the great Cnut. With our scanty knowledge,
we cannot positively either assert or deny that he dreamed of preserving
any kind of union [Sidenote: Cnut’s designs not carried out.] among his
vast and widely severed dominions. If he did entertain such thoughts,
his designs were scattered to the winds immediately upon his own death.
When he died, Swegen was in possession of Norway, and Harthacnut in
possession of Denmark. It appears that England also was designed for the
son of Emma, Cnut’s specially royal offspring, the one son who was the
child of a crowned King and his Lady. What provision, if any, was made
for Harold by his father’s last dispositions does not appear. But things
turned out far otherwise than Cnut had [Sidenote: Swegen expelled from
Norway. 1036.] intended. Swegen was almost immediately driven out of
Norway, and Magnus, the son of Saint Olaf, was received as King. In
Denmark Harthacnut kept possession, though the aspect of Magnus was
threatening. In England, as usual, all attempts to influence the free
choice of the Witan before the vacancy came to nothing. If Cnut tried to
do more than exercise that vague power of recommending a successor which
the law vested in him, his bequest went for as little as the older
bequest of Æthelwulf had gone.[1062]
[Sidenote: State of England on the death of Cnut.]
The events which immediately followed the death of Cnut are told with
much contradiction and confusion; but, by closely attending to the most
trustworthy authorities, it is not very hard to make out the general
order [Sidenote: The West-Saxons for Harthacnut.] of events.[1063] It
appears that the will of the late King in favour of Harthacnut was
upheld by the West-Saxons with Godwine their Earl at their head. That
the English were divided, some being for Harthacnut and some for one of
the sons of Æthelred, is a statement which seems hardly to rest on
sufficient authority.[1064] On the other hand, Harold, the supposed son
of Cnut and of Ælfgifu of Northampton, also appeared as a candidate.
[Sidenote: Northumberland, Mercia, and London for Harold.] He seems to
have been supported by Earl Leofric of Mercia, by the great body of the
thegns north of the Thames, and by the “lithsmen,” the sea-faring folk,
of London. It would even seem that he ventured on a daring act, whether
we call it an act of sovereignty or [Sidenote: Harold spoils Emma.] of
violence, before the election was held. He sent to Winchester and
despoiled the Lady Ælfgifu-Emma of the treasures which had been left her
by Cnut.[1065] Personally, as the event proved, both candidates were
equally worthless; but each had strong political motives on his side,
and it is clear that men’s passions were deeply stirred by the struggle.
As far as we can see, Harold was the candidate of the North, Harthacnut
of the South; Harold was the candidate of the Danes, Harthacnut of
[Sidenote: Apparent motives of the two parties.] the English. At first
sight this division of parties seems exactly opposite to what might have
been expected. Harthacnut, the son of a Danish father and a Norman
mother, had not a drop of English blood in his veins. Harold, if he was
what he professed to be, the son of Cnut by the other Ælfgifu, was
English at least by the mother’s side; if he was what scandal asserted
him to be, the son of a shoemaker by some nameless mother, he was
doubtless English on both sides. The election of Harthacnut involved the
continuation of the connexion with Denmark; the election of Harold would
again make England an independent and isolated kingdom. Yet English
feeling lay with Harthacnut, Danish feeling lay [Sidenote: Attachment of
the West-Saxons to Harthacnut as the legatee of Cnut.] with Harold. The
explanation is probably to be found in the personal position of Cnut
towards his West-Saxon subjects. He had lived more habitually among them
than among the people of any other part of his dominions; the greatest
of living Englishmen had been his minister and representative; he had in
every way made Wessex his home, and Wessex had flourished under his
government as it had never flourished before. It was no wonder then if
the wishes of Cnut with regard to the succession or to anything else
were looked on by the West-Saxon people as a sacred law. Harthacnut too,
if not the descendant of their ancient rulers, was at least a kingly
bairn, the son of a crowned King and his Lady. Who was Harold the
bastard, whose parents no one knew for certain, that he should rule over
them? If Harthacnut was at this moment in Denmark, his earliest days had
been spent in England, while we have seen reason to believe that the
earliest days of Harold had been spent in [Sidenote: Aspect of the
connexion with Denmark.] Denmark. The continued connexion with Denmark
which was implied in the choice of Harthacnut might even appear to
patriotic Englishmen as an argument in favour of the Danish King.[1066]
In the later days of Cnut the connexion with Denmark had taken a form
which must have been distinctly gratifying to English, and above all to
West-Saxon, national feeling. The lord of all Northern Europe had worn
his Imperial crown in the old West-Saxon capital; he had thence sent
forth his earls and his sons to govern his dependent realms of Denmark
and Norway. As it had been in the days of Cnut, so men deemed that it
would be in the days of Harthacnut. Denmark, like Mercia or
Northumberland, would be only another earldom whence homage, and perhaps
tribute, would be paid to the Imperial court and the Imperial
treasure-house at Winchester. The sons of Æthelred were strangers; no
man in England had seen them since their childhood; their claims had
been made the pretext for a threatened foreign invasion; no sentiment
attaching to their remoter ancestry could at all counterbalance the
sentiment which attached to the undoubted, the royal, the chosen, son of
the King who had given England eighteen years of peace, prosperity, and
foreign dominion. West-Saxon feeling therefore took the shape of loyalty
to the undoubted son of the late King, of obedience to his declared
wishes as to the succession. Earl Godwine and all the men of his earldom
were for Harthacnut.
[Sidenote: Motives in favour of Harold among the Danes and Northern
English.]
On the other hand, it is not hard to see how Harold might appeal to a
very intelligible line of feeling in the minds of the Danish and
half-Danish inhabitants of Northern England. His bastardy would in their
eyes be no objection. Whether we look on his mother as a mere concubine
or as bound to Cnut by an irregular or uncanonical marriage, her
children would, according to Danish notions, be as fit to reign as the
children of the Norman Lady. Indeed a powerful vein of Northumbrian
sentiment might not unnaturally attach to the grandson of the murdered
Earl Ælfhelm. Harold’s election might seem to be the overthrow of the
West-Saxon dominion over Danes and Angles; a day might seem to be coming
in which Winchester would have to bow to York. And if the son of Ælfgifu
thus had a local connexion with Northumberland, he had also a local
connexion with Mercia. Whether by birth, by residence, or by maternal
descent, the daughter of Ælfhelm was in some way Ælfgifu of Northampton,
and her son might call on Mercian local feeling to support the claims of
a countryman. Again, if Harold, after having been designed for the crown
of Denmark and brought up in Denmark as a future Danish King, had been
deprived by his father’s later arrangements of any share in either
England or Denmark, Danish and Northumbrian feelings would centre round
him still more strongly. He would become the embodiment of any
jealousies which had been called forth by Cnut’s open preference of
England to Denmark, by his preference of the Saxon part of England to
the Anglian and Danish lands. It was better to have a King who should
reign over England without Denmark, better to have a King who should
reign over Northumberland and Mercia without Wessex, than for a
West-Saxon King, of whatever ancestry, to hold both Northumberland and
Denmark as dependencies. The old provincial feelings, often concealed
but never completely stifled, ever ready to break out on any strong
provocation, now broke out in their fulness. The Danish provinces sided
with Harold. And with them we find a new element, the “lithsmen,” the
nautic multitude [Sidenote: Danish settlement in London.] of London. The
great city still kept her voice in the election of Kings, but that voice
would almost seem to have been handed over to a new class among her
population. We hear now, not of the citizens, but of the sea-faring
men.[1067] Every invasion, every foreign settlement of any kind within
the kingdom, has in every age added a new element to the population of
London. As a Norman colony settled in London later in the century, so a
Danish colony settled there now. Some accounts tell us, doubtless with
great exaggeration, that London had now almost become a Danish
city.[1068] But it is certain that the Danish element in the city was
numerous and powerful, and that its voice strongly helped to swell the
cry in favour of Harold. Northumberland, Mercia, and London thus
demanded that the son of Ælfgifu of Northampton should, if possible, be
King over all England; in the worst case they would have him, like
Eadgar and like Cnut, for King over all Northumberland and Mercia.
There was perhaps no country except England in which such a question
could have been settled in that age otherwise than at the cost of a
civil war. But the firmly rooted principles of English law, the habit of
constant meeting and discussion, had already produced some germs of the
feeling to which the great English historian of Greece has [Sidenote:
The controversy peacefully decided in the Witenagemót.] given the name
of “constitutional morality.”[1069] The controversy was a sharp one; but
it was decided, not on the field of battle, but in the debates of the
Witenagemót. The usual midwinter meeting may, or may not, have been
[Sidenote: Gemót of Oxford. Christmas, 1035?] forestalled by a few
weeks; certain it is that, soon after the death of Cnut, the Witan of
all England met in full Gemót at Oxford. That town was, no doubt, on
this as on other occasions, recommended for the purpose by its position
on the frontiers of the two great divisions of the kingdom. The national
council proceeded to debate [Sidenote: Godwine maintains the claims of
Harthacnut.] the claims of the two candidates. The great Earl of the
West-Saxons, supported by the whole force of his earldom, strove to play
the same part which Dunstan had played in the last recorded debate of
the kind in a full and free Assembly of the Wise.[1070] His eloquent
tongue set forth the claims of Harthacnut, the candidate recommended
alike by undoubted kingly birth and by the wishes of the glorious
sovereign whom they had lost. But this time the charmer charmed in vain.
All that Godwine could gain for the son of the Lady was a portion of his
father’s [Sidenote: The division of the kingdom proposed by Leofric,]
kingdom. The proposal of a division seems to have come from Leofric, now
Earl over all Mercia,[1071] who on all occasions appears as a mediator
between the extreme parties of the North and the South. To this course
he was prompted alike by his personal temper and by the geographical
position of his earldom. Godwine and his party withstood for a while
even this proposal; but the majority [Sidenote: and voted by the
assembly.] was against them; the assembly decreed the division of
England between the two candidates.[1072] Once more, but now for the
last time in English history, the land had two [Sidenote: Harthacnut
reigns in Wessex; Harold reigns north of Thames,] acknowledged Kings.
Harold reigned to the north of the Thames and Harthacnut to the south.
We are not distinctly told whether the two Kings were to be perfectly
independent of each other, or whether, as in the case of Cnut and
Eadmund, any Imperial supremacy was reserved [Sidenote: seemingly as
superior lord.] to either of the half-brothers.[1073] But several
indications seem to show that such a supremacy was reserved to Harold,
and this supposition may perhaps help to explain some of the
difficulties in the narrative which follows. Nor are we told of any
stipulations as to the succession. It would follow, almost as a matter
of course, that, if either of the brothers died childless, the survivor
would be elected to [Sidenote: Rumoured refusal of Archbishop Æthelnoth
to crown Harold.] his share of the kingdom. According to one account,
Archbishop Æthelnoth, the friend of Cnut, still refused to consecrate
Harold as King. He placed the crown and sceptre on the altar; Harold
might seize them if he dared; but while a son of Emma lived, he,
Æthelnoth, would crown no King but a son of Emma, and every Bishop of
his province was equally forbidden to perform the rite. If this tale be
true, it was an assertion of independence on the part of the
ecclesiastical power for which we might in vain seek a parallel in the
English history of those times. Æthelnoth, as a member of the Gemót,
might give his vote for whichever candidate he thought good; but when
the election was once made, he had clearly no right as Archbishop to
refuse to consecrate the King chosen by the majority. But the tale is
most likely a fiction. There seems to be little doubt that Harold was
regularly crowned at Oxford by Æthelnoth, either now or after his later
election to the whole kingdom.[1074] But, if the tale be true, and if it
belongs to this time, it plainly implies the Imperial supremacy of
Harold. With a mere King of the Mercians and Northumbrians, whether an
Under-king or an altogether independent sovereign, the Archbishop of
Canterbury, a West-Saxon subject, could have nothing to do.
[Sidenote: Harthacnut remains in Denmark.]
The kingdom was thus divided. The King-elect of the West-Saxons was in
no hurry—the affairs of his Northern kingdom did not allow him to be in
a hurry—to take personal possession of the fragment of a realm which was
[Sidenote: Regency of Emma and Godwine in Wessex. 1035–1037.] all that
Godwine had been able to keep for him. Emma appears to have been
invested with a kind of regency in her son’s name, while Godwine still
held his office as Earl, and with it the administration of the
West-Saxon kingdom. It is specially mentioned that Harthacnut’s
housecarls remained with Emma.[1075] The housecarls of Harthacnut had
doubtless been the housecarls of Cnut; their loyalty was personal to
their master, and it would naturally pass to his widow and her son. But
that their presence was allowed in the West-Saxon kingdom and capital
under the administration of Godwine clearly shows that they had not been
employed during the late reign as instruments of oppression, and that
they were not looked on with any general hatred by the people at large.
It was in the course of the next year that an event happened of which
advantage has ever since been taken by hostile tongues and pens to stain
the character of the great Earl of the West-Saxons with a charge of the
blackest treachery. But even in the period on which we are now entering,
a period in which we have at every step to weigh the conflicting
statements of national and political partizanship, there is no event as
to which the various versions of the tale are more utterly at variance
with each other. The story is told with every conceivable variety of
time, place, and person, and even our earliest and best authorities
contain statements which cannot be reconciled [Sidenote: Attempt in
favour of the Æthelings. 1036.] with one another. Thus much seems
certain; first, that, about this time, one or both of the sons of
Æthelred and Emma made an attempt to recover their father’s kingdom;
secondly, that Ælfred, the younger of the two Æthelings, fell into the
power of Harold and was cruelly put to death; thirdly, that Godwine was
suspected of being an accomplice. [Sidenote: Conflicting versions of the
story.] But beyond this, there is hardly a detail of the story which can
be asserted with any confidence.[1076] The first point, that the
attempt, whatever was its nature, took place soon after the death of
Cnut and the first election of Harold, is placed beyond all doubt by the
complete agreement of the best authorities. But very respectable
secondary authorities have altogether misplaced the date, and they have
thus given occasion for a lower class of compilers to load the story
with endless mythical and [Sidenote: _Norman Version._] calumnious
details. According to the Norman account, both the Æthelings had a share
in the attempt. As soon as the death of Cnut was known in Normandy,
Eadward [Sidenote: Invasion of England by Eadward.] set sail with forty
ships and landed at Southampton. But the English, whether for love or
for fear[1077] of their Danish King Harold, met them as enemies. Eadward
fought a battle and defeated the English with great slaughter. But,
reflecting how great was the strength of England and how small was the
force which he had brought with him, he presently sailed away, taking
with him great plunder. Soon after Eadward’s return, Ælfred set sail
from Wissant[1078] and landed at Dover. As he went onwards into the
country, Godwine met him, received him friendly, and seemingly did
homage to him.[1079] The Earl and the Ætheling supped together, and
talked over their plans. But in the night Godwine seized Ælfred, tied
his hands behind his back, and thus sent him and some of his companions
to London to King Harold. Others he put in prison, others he
embowelled.[1080] Among those who were sent to London, Harold caused
Ælfred’s chief companions to be beheaded, and the Ætheling himself to be
blinded. In that state he was sent to Ely, naked and with his legs tied
under his horse’s belly. He had not been long at Ely when he died, as
the weapon with which his eyes had been cut out had wounded the
brain.[1081]
[Sidenote: In this version his coming is hostile.]
In this Norman version the coming of Ælfred is simply part of a Norman
invasion. Eadward had come with a force large enough to fight a battle;
Ælfred’s force, we [Sidenote: _Version in two of the Chronicles._] are
told, was still larger.[1082] The oldest English version, which it must
not be forgotten takes the form of a ballad, knows nothing of any
warlike expedition, and speaks of [Sidenote: Ælfred’s companions slain
[by Godwine].] Ælfred only. According to this account, Ælfred came to
England, whence or under what circumstances we are not told, and wished
to go to his mother at Winchester. In this purpose he was hindered by
men who were powerful at the time, and who unjustly favoured Harold. In
one version these men are nameless; in another Godwine is named as their
chief.[1083] Then the Ætheling and his companions are seized; some are
killed outright, some are put in bonds, some sold as slaves, others
blinded or put to various tortures and horrible deaths.[1084] No worse
deed had ever been done since the Danes came into the land.[1085] All
this was done, according to one version, by Godwine, according to the
other, by Harold. The Ætheling still lived; so he was taken to Ely in a
ship, blinded while still on board, given thus blinded to the monks,
with whom he lived till he died soon after, and then was buried
honourably in the minster.[1086]
There is yet quite another version, that of the special panegyrist of
Emma, according to whom, it must be remembered, Eadward and Ælfred are
not sons of Æthelred, but younger sons of Cnut and Emma, sent over to
Normandy [Sidenote: Harold forges a letter from Emma to the Æthelings.]
for education.[1087] Harold, anxious to destroy his half-brothers,
forges a letter to them in the name of their mother. She tells them that
she is Lady, only in name; Harold has usurped the kingdom and is daily
strengthening himself; he is winning over the chief men by gifts,
threats, and prayers. Yet the feeling of the nation is still in their
favour rather than in that of Harold. Let one of her sons come over to
her quickly and secretly; she can then consult with him what is to be
done.[1088] The Æthelings fell into the snare; Ælfred, the younger of
the brothers, went with a few comrades into Flanders; there he stayed a
short time with the Marquess Baldwin, and increased his company by some
adventurers from Boulogne.[1089] He then set sail, and came near to some
point of the English coast which is not further described. But, as the
inhabitants came down to the shore with evidently hostile intentions, he
changed his course to another point equally undetermined. There he
landed, and tried to go to his mother; on the way he was met by Godwine,
who swore oaths to him and became his man.[1090] By the Earl’s advice he
turned [Sidenote: Ælfred received by Godwine,] aside from London,[1091]
and lodged at Guildford. There Godwine quartered Ælfred’s comrades in
different houses in the town, leaving a few only to attend on the
Ætheling himself. He feasted Ælfred and his companions, and withdrew to
his own house, evidently in or near Guildford, promising to return in
the morning to do his due service [Sidenote: but seized by the agents of
Harold.] to his lord.[1092] But in the night the emissaries of Harold
suddenly appeared in the town, seized the comrades of Ælfred, and sold,
slew, or tortured them according to the usual story. The Ætheling was
taken to Ely; there he was first mocked by the soldiers, then loaded
with heavy fetters, brought before some kind of tribunal, and, by its
sentence, blinded and finally put to death.[1093] The monks of Ely took
his body and buried it, and miracles were of course wrought at his tomb.
[Sidenote: Estimate of the evidence.]
These are the main versions of the tale, the details of which, as well
as some other accounts, I shall discuss elsewhere. Now when we come to
compare them with one another, what is the judgement to which we ought
to come? That Ælfred landed, that he and his comrades were cruelly put
to death, there can be no doubt; but had Godwine any share in the deed?
Before we examine the evidence, we must first try and understand what
the real state of the case was. The unhappy fate of Ælfred caused him,
according to the universal English instinct, to be looked on as a
martyr; his tale became a piece of hagiology, to which, as to other
pieces of hagiology, ordinary ways of thinking were not to be applied.
This way of looking at the matter began very early; but, in order really
to get to the bottom of the question, we must try and understand how
things must have looked at the moment of Ælfred’s landing.
[Sidenote: Statement of the case.]
First of all, whatever was the crime either of Godwine or of Harold, we
must remember that, in any case, it was not the kind of crime which the
exaggerated language of some of our narratives would lead us to think.
Godwine might be a traitor in the sense of one who betrays any
fellow-creature to his ruin; on the worst showing, he was not a traitor
in the sense of one who betrays or rebels against his lawful sovereign.
Ælfred was not, as the legends of his martyrdom might seem to imply, a
lawful King driven from his throne. Harold was not an usurper, keeping
the lawful heir out of his lawful possession. Godwine was not a rebel,
conspiring to betray a prince to whom his allegiance was lawfully due.
According to any version of the story, Ælfred appeared in England as the
enemy of a settled government, established by a regular vote of the
legislature. As such it was the part and duty of the King, of the Earl,
and of the whole people, to resist him. He was a pretender to the crown
entering the kingdom at the head of a foreign force, whether great or
small. There has never been any time or place in which such a pretender
would not have been at once arrested; there have been few times and
places in which such a pretender would not have been speedily put to
death. Against the arrest of Ælfred not a word can be said in any age;
his execution was perhaps more deeply offensive to the public feeling of
the eleventh century, a time when the shedding of blood by the sentence
of law was singularly rare,[1094] than it would have been to the public
feeling of the fifteenth or the sixteenth century. The real question is
whether either the arrest or the execution was accompanied with any
circumstances of [Sidenote: Ælfred’s position analogous to that of the
Stewart Pretenders.] treachery or needless cruelty. The sons of Æthelred
were very much in the position of the elder and younger Pretenders in
the reigns of George the First and Second. In both cases the power which
had a right to dispose of the crown had disposed of it, and had not
disposed of it in their favour. Now no man could have blamed any
officer, civil or military, in the service of King George, for arresting
either James or Charles Edward Stewart. In so doing he would simply have
been doing his duty to his King and country. If either Pretender had
been arrested, his execution would doubtless have been a very harsh
measure; but it would have been a perfectly legal measure; he was
attainted, and he might have been as regularly executed as Monmouth was.
Nay, the letter of the law, as the law stood till the reign of George
the Third, as it was actually enforced as late as the reign of Charles
the Second, would have condemned the pretended Prince of Wales to
indignities and torments quite as cruel as any that Harold Harefoot
inflicted on the Ætheling and his companions.[1095] To have put James or
Charles Stewart to death in the horrible form which the law decreed for
the traitor would doubtless have called forth as fierce a storm of
righteous indignation as was called forth by the death of the Ætheling
Ælfred. Still the act would have been legal; it might have inflicted
undying shame on the King and his counsellors who ordered it, but it
would have been no ground of blame whatever against the gaoler, the
sheriff, or the executioner. So it was with the case of Ælfred.
According to one account, first Eadward and then Ælfred entered the land
at the head of a foreign army; they tried, in short, to repeat the
exploit of Cnut, to forestall the exploit of William. In banished men,
eager for a restoration to their country on any terms, such conduct may
admit of many excuses. Still, on the face of it, they put themselves in
the position of open enemies of their country. If Eadward really landed
at the head of a Norman army, if he really fought a battle against an
English force at Southampton, those who withstood him were as plainly
doing their simple duty as the men who fought at Maldon or on Senlac.
Even if we reject this version, if we believe that Ælfred entered the
country, not with an army but with a mere escort of strangers, still he
was coming, seemingly without any invitation from any party in the
country, to disturb a settlement which the legislature of the kingdom
had established, and which he was not likely to upset except by force of
arms. Men who run such desperate risks must take the consequences.
[Sidenote: The real question as to Godwine; Was he guilty of treachery
or needless cruelty?] If Godwine, as a military commander, fought
against Eadward, if, as a civil magistrate, he arrested Ælfred, he
simply did his duty and nothing else. The only question would be, as I
before put it, Was there any treachery or needless cruelty in the
matter? Now cruelty is perhaps of all charges that which most needs to
be looked at with reference to the habits and feelings of the age. What
one age looks on as mildness another age looks on as barbarity. But it
is clear that the cruelties which were wrought by Harold on his captives
deeply revolted the public opinion of the time in which he lived. As for
deliberate treachery, that is a crime in all ages alike. If then we set
aside accusations which rest on mere misconception of the case, the
question remains whether the evidence is enough to convict Godwine
either of personal treachery towards the Ætheling or of any share in the
savage cruelties of Harold.
[Sidenote: Inconsistency of the ordinary story with the fact of the
division of the Kingdom.]
Now in reading any version of the story one great difficulty at once
presents itself. Godwine is always described as acting a part which, in
his real position at the time, he cannot have acted. Not one of the
versions of the tale takes any notice of the division of the kingdom.
They all seem to look on Harold as sole King and to look on Godwine as
his minister, or at least as his subject. Yet we know that, at this
time, Godwine was neither Harold’s minister nor Harold’s subject.
Harthacnut was still the acknowledged King, at all events King-elect, of
the West-Saxons; Emma was still sitting at Winchester as regent in his
name; Godwine, who had secured for them this remnant of dominion, was
the chief minister and general of the Lady and her son. If Godwine acted
in any way in the interest of Harold, it could only have been because
Harold was, as I suggested above, the superior lord of his own
sovereign—because the invasion, or attempt of whatever kind, made by the
Æthelings threatened not only the rights of the King of the West-Saxons,
but also the rights of the Emperor of Britain. This is certainly
possible, but it is rather straining a point; nothing of the sort is at
all implied in the language of any of the writers who tell the tale.
They all, even the best informed, seem to know nothing of the kingship
of Harthacnut and the regency of Emma. This seeming ignorance of
writers, some of them contemporary, on such a point shows in the most
remarkable way how soon and how completely the first ephemeral reign of
Harthacnut was forgotten. But their forgetfulness certainly goes a good
way to lessen the trustworthiness of their own tale. In fact the story
as it stands cannot be made to agree with the known facts of the
history. Godwine cannot have played the part attributed to him by his
enemies while the arrangement decreed by the Witenagemót of Oxford was
still in force. But the historical character of that arrangement is
undoubted. That the kingdom really was divided, that Godwine really was
at this time not the minister of Harold but the minister of Harthacnut,
are facts which cannot be gain-sayed. The details of the story of Ælfred
cannot have happened in the manner and at the time in which they are
said to have happened. It was perhaps a feeling of this inconsistency
which led several later writers to shift the story to a later time, to
the time immediately following the death, not of Cnut, but of either
Harold or Harthacnut. But the part played by Harold is the most
essential part of the story; the tale cannot be fitted in to a later
time except by a complete change of its circumstances. [Sidenote: The
direct evidence against Godwine fails.] Altogether I think it must be
allowed that the direct evidence brought to implicate Godwine in any
guilty share in the business altogether breaks down.
[Sidenote: Early suspicions against Godwine.]
On the other hand, we have to explain the fact that Godwine was
suspected, that the suspicion arose early and prevailed extensively, and
that it was not confined to Godwine’s foreign enemies and slanderers.
Godwine indeed was not the only person who was suspected. One tale or
legend accused Emma herself; another laid the guilt to the charge of
Lyfing, Bishop of Devonshire, a prelate who often appears as a powerful
supporter of Godwine’s policy; in another version, if Godwine was the
instigator, the English people in general seem to have been his
accomplices.[1096] Still Godwine was specially suspected, and suspected
while the memory of the event was still fresh. His own special apologist
and panegyrist seems to imply that the charge against him was a mere
invention of the Norman Archbishop Robert.[1097] This however was not
the case; Godwine was formally accused and formally acquitted [Sidenote:
[1040.]] of the crime soon after the accession of Harthacnut, four years
after the event. He was acquitted, as we shall presently see,[1098] by
the solemn judgement of the highest court in the realm, and he is fully
entitled to the benefit of that acquittal. Still the mere fact of his
accusation has to be explained. The charge, brought at such a time and
in such a shape, could not have been a mere Norman slander. Godwine’s
accuser, in fact, was an Englishman of the highest rank. Nor would a
mere Norman slander ever have been embodied in popular songs, or have
found [Sidenote: Some ground for the suspicion must be supposed.] a
place in any version of the English Chronicles. Such a suspicion—strong,
early, native—proves something. Godwine, guilty or innocent, must have
done some act which, to say the least, was capable of an unlucky
misconstruction. By putting together one or two hints in the different
accounts, we may perhaps come to a probable conjecture as to what his
share in the matter really was. There is one version, and only one,
which, while consistent with Godwine’s innocence, explains the early and
prevalent suspicion as to his guilt. Let us look how things stood.
[Sidenote: Probable state of the case.] It seems that the feeling which
broke out openly in the next year was already beginning to show itself;
men were beginning, even in Wessex, to be weary of the absent
Harthacnut. Well they might; to wait so long for an absent King, who,
still uncrowned, unsworn, unanointed, could not be looked on as full
King, was something of which no man had seen the like. It was not
wonderful if popular feeling was, as we are told, veering round, whether
wrongfully or not, in favour of Harold.[1099] At such a moment, a son of
Æthelred, either knowing the state of the kingdom or eager to try his
chance in any case, lands in England. We of course dismiss the story
which speaks of actual invasion and warfare, which is probably a mere
repetition of the attempted invasion by Duke Robert. [Sidenote: Godwine
probably met Ælfred.] But the Ætheling was in England; if Godwine really
wished to preserve the settlement which gave Wessex to a son of Emma, it
might well occur to him to ask whether the game could not be better
played with the present son of Æthelred than with the absent son of
Cnut. He may have sought an interview with the Ætheling; he may even
have pledged himself to his cause. But if a son of Æthelred was at large
in England, the throne of Harold would be endangered as well as the
throne of Harthacnut. Harold and his emissaries would be on the alert.
The prince who had, perhaps before his election, seized on Emma’s
treasures at Winchester, would not, in such a case, be very scrupulous
about respecting the frontiers of his brother’s kingdom. Perhaps, if he
were superior lord, he might have a real right to interfere in a matter
which [Sidenote: Ælfred probably seized by Harold without Godwine’s
connivance.] clearly touched the interests of the whole Empire. At any
rate, if the Ætheling and his companions were known to be lodged in a
West-Saxon town not very far from the borders of the Northern kingdom,
it is perfectly conceivable that they might be seized by the agents of
Harold, against the will or without the knowledge of Godwine. When the
Ætheling was once seized and carried off, Godwine might well think that
the game was up, that the star of Harold was fairly in the ascendant,
and that neither interest nor duty called on him to plunge Wessex into a
war with Northumberland and Mercia either to deliver Ælfred or to
revenge his wrongs. Such conduct would not be that of a sentimental and
impulsive hero; it would be that of a wary and hard-headed statesman.
Such conduct would involve no real treachery; but it might easily give
rise to the suspicion of treachery. If Godwine received the Ætheling, if
Harold’s agents afterwards seized him, it would be an easy inference
that Godwine betrayed him to Harold. As soon as the tale had once got
afloat, mythical details would, as ever, gather round it. When Godwine
was once believed to have betrayed Ælfred, it would be an obvious
improvement on the story to make him a personal agent in the barbarities
to which his supposed treason had given occasion. It is clear that the
ordinary narrative, as it stands, cannot be received; but in some such
explanation as this we may discern the probable kernel of truth on which
the fabulous details gradually fastened themselves.[1100]
[Sidenote: Probable innocence of Godwine.]
On the whole then I incline to the belief that the great Earl, every
other recorded deed of whose life is the deed of an English patriot, who
on every other occasion appears as conciliatory and law-abiding, who is
always as strongly opposed to everything like wrong or violence as the
rude age in which he lived would let him be, did not, on this one
occasion, act in a manner so contrary to his whole character as to
resort to fraud or needless violence to compass the destruction of a man
of English birth and kingly descent. The innocence of Godwine seems to
me to be most likely in itself, most consistent with the circumstances
of the time, and not inconsistent with such parts of our evidence as
seem most trustworthy. But in any case, even if, while casting aside
palpable fables and contradictions, we take the evidence, so far as it
is credible, at the worst, even then it seems to me that the great Earl
is at least entitled to a verdict of Not Proven, if not of Not Guilty.
[Sidenote: Disappointment of the hopes]
The next year after the unlucky attempt of Ælfred[1101] was marked by
the breaking down of the short-lived arrangement [Sidenote: of the
West-Saxons.] which had been made between the two sons of Cnut. The
West-Saxons had seemingly supported Harthacnut as the representative of
that policy of his father which had raised Wessex, not only to the
headship of England and of all Britain, but to the practical headship of
all Northern Europe. No hope on the part of any people was ever more
grievously disappointed. No contrast could be greater than the contrast
between Wessex in the days of Cnut and [Sidenote: Degrading position of
Wessex.] Wessex in these two years of Harthacnut. Wessex was no longer
the chosen dominion, Winchester was no longer the chosen capital, of an
Emperor of the North, whose name was dreaded on the Baltic and
reverenced on the Tiber. The old Imperial kingdom had sunk to be, what
it had never been before, a dependent province ruled by representatives
of an absent sovereign. A King of the Danes, who did not think England
worthy of his presence, held the West-Saxon kingdom, seemingly as a
vassal of the King of the Mercians and Northumbrians, and entrusted it
to the government of his Norman mother. It would doubtless be no excuse
in English eyes that Denmark was now threatened by Magnus of
Norway,[1102] and that Harthacnut’s first duty was to provide for its
defence. To the West-Saxon people it would simply seem that they had
chosen a King whom no entreaties on the part of his English subjects
could persuade to come and take personal possession of his English
kingdom. Being absent, he must have remained uncrowned, and his lack of
the consecrating rite would alone, in the ideas of those times, be
enough to make his government altogether uncertain and provisional. Even
the influence of Godwine could not prolong—most likely it was not
exerted to prolong—a state of things so essentially offensive to all
patriotic feeling. It was felt that to accept the rule of Harold would
be a far less evil than to keep a nominal independence which was
practically a degrading bondage. Popular feeling therefore set strongly
in favour of union with Mercia and Northumberland, even under the
doubtful son of Ælfgifu of [Sidenote: Harthacnut deposed in Wessex, and
Harold chosen King over all England. 1037.] Northampton. “Man chose
Harold over all to King, and forsook Harthacnut, for that he was too
long in Denmark.”[1103] That is, I conceive, the Witan of Wessex, in
discharge of their undoubted constitutional right,[1104] deposed their
King Harthacnut, and elected the King of the Mercians and Northumbrians
as their immediate sovereign, the election being, as it would seem,
confirmed by a vote of the Witan of all England. Harold was thus called
by the universal voice of the nation to be King over the whole realm.
The southern kingdom, just as at the final election of his father,[1105]
was again joined to the northern. England again became one kingdom under
one King, an union which since that day has never been broken.
The reign of the new King of the English was short and troubled. His
first act was the banishment of the Lady [Sidenote: Banishment of Emma.
1037.] Emma, who was sent out of the land at the beginning of
winter.[1106] She did not return to Normandy, as that country was now in
all the confusion attendant on the minority of its new sovereign, the
future Conqueror. She betook herself to the court of Baldwin of
Flanders, which we shall henceforth find serving as the general place of
refuge for English exiles. She was received with all honour by Baldwin
and his Countess Adela.[1107] Two of the near kinswomen of Baldwin will
play a prominent part in our future history; one of them indeed, his
daughter Matilda, the wife of the great William, was destined, within
thirty years, to fill the place from which Emma herself had been driven.
[Sidenote: Character of Harold.]
Of the administration of Harold himself we hear hardly anything. The
tale which affirms that he reigned without the usual consecrating rite
charges him also with entire neglect of Christian worship, and of
choosing the hour of mass for his hunting or other amusements.[1108]
Other accounts however imply that he was not wanting in the conventional
piety of the age.[1109] He at least, like other Kings, kept chaplains in
his personal service, so that he can hardly have been the avowed heathen
or infidel which he appears in the hostile picture. Ecclesiastical
affairs however do not seem to have been in a flourishing [Sidenote:
Ecclesiastical appointments.] state under his government. We read, as to
be sure we read in the reigns of Kings of greater claims to sanctity, of
bishoprics being held in plurality and [Sidenote: Death of Archbishop
Æthelnoth. 1038.] being sold for money. Good Archbishop Æthelnoth died
[Sidenote: Eadsige succeeds.] in the second year of Harold’s sole reign,
and was succeeded by Eadsige, who appears at once in the threefold
character of a royal chaplain, a monk, and a suffragan Bishop in
Kent.[1110] We also find another royal chaplain, [Sidenote: Promotion of
Stigand and Lyfing.] Stigand, the priest of Assandun, appointed to a
bishopric, deposed, seemingly before consecration, because another
competitor was ready with a larger sum, and finally reinstated, whether
by dint of the same prevailing arguments we are not told.[1111] Lyfing,
Bishop of Devonshire, also received the see of Worcester in
plurality.[1112] These appointments are worthy of notice, as throwing
some light on the otherwise utterly obscure politics of this reign.
Stigand, the old chaplain of Cnut, was the firm friend and [Sidenote:
Reconciliation between Harold and the party of Godwine.] counsellor of
his widow.[1113] Lyfing was the right hand man of Earl Godwine. That
these men shared in the promotions of which Harold had an unusual number
to distribute, that Lyfing especially became the King’s personal
friend,[1114] seems to show that a perfect reconciliation was now
brought about between Harold and the party which had opposed his
original election. We may infer that Emma was sacrificed to the King’s
personal dislike, a dislike which, it seems to be implied, was shared by
the mass of the people.[1115] But there seems to have been no
disposition on Harold’s part to bear hard in any other way on his former
antagonists. A certain amount either of generosity or of policy must
have found a place in his character.
It is probably a sign of degeneracy and weakness on the part of Harold’s
government that the vassal kingdoms no longer remained in the same state
of submission to which they had been brought during at least the later
days of Cnut. North Wales was now gathering strength [Sidenote: Inroad
of Gruffydd ap Llywelyn; battle of Rhyd-y-Groes and death of Eadwine.
1039.] under the famous Gruffydd son of Llywelyn. His first exploit was
an inroad in which he reached as far as the Severn, and fought a battle
at Rhyd-y-Groes, near Upton-on-Severn, a place which, perhaps owing to
this event, still retains its British name. In that fight several
eminent Englishmen were killed, and among them Eadwine, a brother of
Earl Leofric.[1116] In the next year, the last year of [Sidenote:
Duncan’s siege of Durham and his defeat. 1040.] the reign of
Harold,[1117] Duncan, King of Scots, on what occasion we are not told,
repeated the exploit of his grandfather, and with much the same
success.[1118] He crossed the frontier and besieged Durham. The strength
and prosperity of the city, though probably thrown back by the defeat of
Carham,[1119] had vastly increased since its first [Sidenote: Bishop
Eadmund of Durham. 1020–1042.] creation by Ealdhun. Ealdhun’s successor
Eadmund, called to the see, as the story went, by a miraculous
voice,[1120] had finished the work of his predecessor. The minster of
Durham had been brought to perfection,[1121] and the city of Durham had
gained strength and population enough to withstand an attack by its own
efforts. In the invasion of Malcolm the infant settlement had been
delivered by the intervention of Earl Uhtred; the invasion of Duncan was
driven back by the valour of the citizens themselves. The Scots were put
to flight; of the chief men of the army the greater part were killed in
the battle; the remainder owed their escape to their horses. The
soldiers of meaner degree, who had suffered less in the actual combat,
were slaughtered without mercy in the pursuit.[1122] Northumbriam
barbarism showed itself now as on the former occasion. The bloody
trophies of victory were collected in the market-place of Durham, and a
garland of Scottish heads again adorned the battlements of the rescued
city.[1123]
[Sidenote: Harthacnut prepares to assert his claims. 1039.]
The reign and life of Harold were now drawing to an end. Harthacnut was
not at all disposed to acquiesce in the arrangements which had wholly
shut him out from England. His Northern possessions were now safe. A
treaty had been concluded with Magnus, according to which, as in some
other instances of which we have heard, each King, in case of the other
dying childless, was to succeed to his kingdom.[1124] Harthacnut
therefore was now able to turn his thoughts in the direction of England,
and a message from his mother in Flanders is said to have further worked
upon his mind.[1125] He began to make great preparations for an invasion
of England,[1126] but for the present he merely sailed to Flanders with
ten ships,[1127] and there passed the winter with his mother. The time
however was not spent in idleness. His preparations were busily carried
on, and in the course of the next year he found himself at the head of a
considerable fleet.[1128] No invasion however was needed, as an event
which was probably not unexpected[1129] opened the way for his accession
[Sidenote: Death of Harold. March 17, 1040.] without difficulty or
bloodshed. King Harold, who had been for some time lying sick at Oxford,
died in that town in the month of March.[1130] He was buried at
Westminster, a spot which is now mentioned in our Chronicles for the
first time.[1131] Its mention however seems to show that the smaller
monastery which preceded the great foundation of Eadward enjoyed a
greater amount of reputation than we might otherwise have been led to
think. Harold, who could not have been above two or three and twenty
years old, left no recorded posterity. We hear nothing of wives,
mistresses, or children of any kind.
§ 4. _The Reign of Harthacnut._ 1040–2.
[Sidenote: Harthacnut unanimously chosen]
Immediately on the burial of Harold, probably at the Easter festival,
the Witan of all England, English and Danish, unanimously chose
Harthacnut to the kingdom.[1132] [Sidenote: King. Easter? 1040.] The
only undoubted, and now the only surviving, son of Cnut united all
claims. No attempt seems to have been made on behalf of Eadward the
surviving son of Æthelred, and the events of the last reign were not
likely to have prejudiced men in his favour. The universal belief of the
moment was that the choice of Harthacnut was the right and wise
course.[1133] An embassy, of which Ælfweard, Bishop of London and Abbot
of Evesham, was a leading member,[1134] was sent to Bruges, to invite
the newly-chosen [Sidenote: Harthacnut lands. June 17.] King to take
possession of his crown. He and his mother accordingly set sail for
England in the course of June; he landed at Sandwich, and was presently
crowned at Canterbury by Archbishop Eadsige.[1135]
[Sidenote: His character.]
The expectations which had been formed of Harthacnut were grievously
disappointed. One worthless youth had made way for another equally
worthless. Writers in the Norman interest, and members of foundations to
which he was lavish, try to clothe him with various virtues.[1136] But
the utmost that can be claimed for him is an easy species of munificence
which showed itself on the one hand in bounty to monasteries and to the
poor,[1137] and on the other in providing four meals daily for his
courtiers.[1138] But all his recorded public acts set him before us as a
rapacious, brutal, and bloodthirsty tyrant. His short reign is merely a
repetition of the first and worst days of his father, while he could
not, like his father, invoke even the tyrant’s plea of necessity in
palliation of his evil deeds. Harthacnut had been unanimously chosen
King; he had been received with universal joy; there was no sedition
within the country, and no foreign enemy threatened it. But his conduct
was that of a conqueror in a hostile land. His first act was to wring a
heavy contribution from his new subjects for an object which in no way
concerned them. We now learn incidentally that the standing navy of
England, both under Cnut and under Harold, had consisted of sixteen
ships, and eight marks were paid, seemingly yearly, either to each rower
singly or to some group of rowers.[1139] [Sidenote: Harthacnut’s first
Danegeld.] Harthacnut had come over with sixty ships, manned by Danish
soldiers, and his first act was to demand eight marks for each man of
their crews, a piece of extortion which at once destroyed his newly
gained popularity.[1140] He then began to revenge himself on his enemies
alive [Sidenote: Harold’s body disinterred.] and dead. His first act in
this way was an act of senseless brutality towards the dead body of his
half-brother the late King. The dead Harold, the Chronicles tell us, was
dragged up and shot into a fen. Other writers tell the story with more
detail.[1141] Some of the officers of his household, Stir his Mayor of
the Palace,[1142] Eadric his dispenser, Thrond his executioner, all, we
are told, men of great dignity, were sent to Westminster to dig up the
body, and in their company we are surprised to find Earl Godwine and
Ælfric Archbishop of York. Westminster was neither in Godwine’s earldom
nor in Ælfric’s diocese, so that both these chiefs of Church and State
seem out of place on such an occasion. We are however told that Ælfric
was something more than an instrument in the matter; it was specially at
his advice that Harthacnut was guilty of this cowardly piece of spite,
one which, like the brutalities of Harold himself towards the comrades
of Ælfred, did not [Sidenote: and buried again.] go without imitators in
more polished times. The body of Harold was treated on the restoration
of Harthacnut much as the body of Oliver Cromwell was treated on the
restoration of Charles the Second. The late King was dug up, beheaded,
and thrown, according to this account, into the Thames. The body was
afterwards brought up by a fisherman, and received a second burial. The
large Danish population of London had a burial-place of their own
without the walls of the city, the memory of which is still retained in
the name of the church of Saint Clement Danes. There Harold’s body was
again buried, secretly, we may suppose, though the act is spoken of as a
tribute of honour paid by the Danes of London to the King whose
accession to the throne had been so largely their own doing.
No act could have been more offensive to the Danes settled in England
than these insults offered to the body [Sidenote: Harthacnut’s second
Danegeld. 1040–1.] of their own chosen prince. Harthacnut’s next act was
to enrage all his subjects, English and Danish, by laying on them
another enormous Danegeld of about twenty-two thousand pounds, with
another sum of more than eleven thousand pounds for thirty-two ships,
probably a fresh contingent which had just come from Denmark.[1143] He
was now, before he had been a year on the throne, thoroughly [Sidenote:
Godwine and Lyfing accused of the death of Ælfred. 1040.] hated.[1144]
As if on purpose to increase his unpopularity, he next attacked the two
leaders of the national party, Earl Godwine and Bishop Lyfing.
Archbishop Ælfric, who appears almost in the character of a spiritual
Eadric, is said to have accused them to the King of being concerned in
the death of his brother Ælfred. Some other persons unnamed joined with
him in bringing the charge.[1145] Of the two defendants the Bishop was
the easier victim. Lyfing lost his bishopric of Worcester, which was
given to his accuser to hold in plurality,[1146] as it was held by
several Archbishops of York before and after. Lyfing however recovered
Worcester in the course of the next year, as the [Sidenote: Trial and
acquittal of Godwine.] price, we are told, of money paid to the
King.[1147] Whether the deposition of Lyfing was effected with any legal
forms we are not told; but the Earl of the West-Saxons certainly
underwent a regular trial before the Witan. The proceedings form a
curious illustration of the jurisprudence of the age. The functions of
witness, judge, and juror were not yet accurately distinguished, and
compurgation,[1148] whenever compurgation could be had, was looked on as
the surest proof of innocence. Godwine asserted his own innocence on
oath, and his solemn plea of Not Guilty was confirmed by the oaths of
most of the Earls and chief thegns[1149] of England. We must not judge
of the value of such an acquittal by the ideas of our own time. In a
modern trial, some of Godwine’s compurgators would have had to act as
his judges; some would have been examined as witnesses to the facts;
others might, at least in the case of a less illustrious defendant, have
appeared as witnesses to character. In the rude state of the law in
those times, these distinctions were not thought of. But it does not
follow that substantial justice was not done. Godwine’s acquittal was as
solemn as any acquittal could be. All the chief men of England swore to
their belief in his innocence. The only difference between such an
acquittal and a modern acquittal on a trial before the House of Lords is
that, in the ancient mode of procedure, the voices of those who of their
own knowledge affirmed Godwine to be innocent, and the voices of those
who accepted his innocence [Sidenote: Value of the acquittal.] on their
witness, were all reckoned together. Godwine then was acquitted, after
the most solemn trial which the jurisprudence of his own time could
provide. He is in fairness entitled to the full benefit of that
acquittal. The judgement of a competent tribunal is always worth
something, though its worth may be overbalanced by facts or
probabilities the other way. There are those who hold, in defiance of
all fact and all reason, that Sir Thomas More and Anne Boleyn must have
been guilty, because English courts of justice pronounced them to be
guilty. I am surely asking much less if I ask that Godwine may be held
to be innocent, because an English court of justice, whose verdict is
outweighed by no facts or probabilities the other way, solemnly
pronounced him to be innocent.[1150]
[Sidenote: Godwine purchases the favour of Harthacnut by a magnificent
ship.]
One circumstance which in our days would at once throw suspicion upon
the verdict proves nothing at all according to the ideas of those days.
Ages after the time of Harthacnut, in times which by comparison seem as
yesterday, English judges did not scruple to receive presents from their
suitors, and English sovereigns did not scruple to receive presents from
their subjects. It is always possible that such presents may be bribes
in a guilty sense; it is always equally possible that they may not. It
therefore proves nothing either way when we read that the Earl of the
West-Saxons, solemnly acquitted by his peers, had still to buy his full
restoration to the friendship of his highest judge at the cost of a
magnificent gift. We have already seen how dear a possession a ship was
in Danish eyes;[1151] we have seen how acceptable a gift it might be in
English eyes.[1152] We have seen too what an astonishing amount of
adornment the warriors of the North lavished upon these cherished
instruments, almost companions, of their warfare.[1153] Though we hear
nothing of any warlike exploits of Harthacnut,[1154] he had enough of
the wiking in him for a well-equipped ship to be the most acceptable of
all gifts.[1155] Godwine therefore gave Harthacnut a ship with a beak of
gold, manned with eighty chosen warriors armed with all the magnificence
of the full panoply of [Sidenote: Arms of the soldiers.] the time. Each
man had on each arm a golden bracelet of sixteen ounces weight; each was
clad in a triple coat of mail; each bore on his head a helmet partly
gilded; each was armed with all the weapons which could be needed in
warfare of any kind.[1156] Each bore on his left arm a shield with
gilded boss and studs; his right hand bore the javelin, the English
_ategar_, for the distant skirmishing at the beginning of a battle. But
each too was ready for the closest and most deadly fight. Each was
girded with a sword with a gilded handle, and from each man’s left
shoulder hung, also adorned with [Sidenote: The Danish axe.] gold and
silver, the most fearful weapon of all, the Danish battle-axe.[1157]
This is our first mention[1158] of the weapon [Sidenote: 1066.] which
Englishmen were, twenty-six years later, to wield with such deadly
prowess upon the height of Senlac, and [Sidenote: 1203–4.] which, after
the lapse of a hundred and forty years, the descendants of English
exiles were still found wielding in defence of the throne of Constantine
and Justinian.[1159]
[Sidenote: The Danegeld levied by the housecarls. 1041.]
Meanwhile all England was astir at the imposition of the Danegeld. Men
had deemed that such imposts had passed away for ever in that
Witenagemót of Oxford where Cnut the Danish conqueror changed into Cnut
the English King. No enemy was in the land; Denmark, the old foe, was a
sister kingdom; Normandy, the new foe, was hindered by her domestic
troubles from threatening any of her neighbours; the overthrow of Duncan
before Durham had taught Scotland to respect the frontiers of the
Imperial state.[1160] But here was a tax such as had been heard of only
in the darkest and saddest hours of the reign of Æthelred. Taxes of this
kind always came in slowly,[1161] and this particular tax came in with
special slowness. Military force was needed to extort payment; the
housecarls, who do not seem to have been sent on such errands in the
days of Cnut, were now turned into tax-gatherers, and were sent into
every shire in England to collect the King’s tribute.[1162] That
soldiers entrusted with such a duty behaved with insolence and violence
we might take for granted in any age. In their conduct we may probably
find the historical groundwork for those wonderful tales of Danish
oppression in which later and rhetorical writers indulge.[1163] No doubt
this collection of the Danegeld was accompanied by much oppression; but
there is no evidence that it was oppression inflicted by Danes as Danes
on Englishmen as Englishmen. As far as we can see, the state of things
under Harthacnut must have been something like the state of England
under John and Henry the Third. The natives, of whatever race, and the
settlers who were fairly naturalized in the country, were all alike
taxed for the sake of the mere strangers who had come in the King’s
train.[1164] We cannot suppose that a Danish citizen of London, or a
Danish thegn who had received a grant of lands from Cnut, was let off
his share of the tribute on proof of his Danish birth. The discontent
which was doubtless common to the whole kingdom at [Sidenote: The
housecarls killed at Worcester. May 4, 1041.] last broke out in one
particular quarter. The citizens of Worcester and the men of
Worcestershire generally rose in revolt and attacked the housecarls. Two
of their number, Feader and Thurstan, fled, like the Danes at
Oxford,[1165] to a tower of the minster.[1166] The people followed them
to their hiding-place, and slew them. The murder deserved legal
punishment, but Harthacnut preferred a form of chastisement for which
unluckily he could find precedents in the reigns of better princes than
himself.[1167] He is said to have been further stirred up to vengeance
by one who ought to have been the first to counsel mercy. Archbishop
Ælfric had, as we have seen, received the bishopric of Worcester on the
deposition of Lyfing;[1168] it would seem that the citizens refused to
receive him.[1169] They were doubtless attached to their own patriotic
pastor, and they may well have been unwilling to be again made an
appendage to the Northumbrian metropolis. In revenge for this injury,
Ælfric, we are told, counselled the terrible punishment which Harthacnut
now decreed for his flock. The offending city and shire were to feel the
full extremity of military vengeance; the town was to be burned, the
country harried, and the inhabitants, [Sidenote: The Earls sent against
Worcester.] as far as might be, killed. For this purpose Harthacnut sent
nearly all his housecarls—unhappily we are not told their numbers—under
the command of all the chief men of England. The three great Earls,
Godwine of Wessex, Leofric of Mercia, Siward of Northumberland,[1170]
and their subordinate Earls, among whom Thored of the Middle-Angles or
Eastern part of Mercia,[1171] and Ranig of the Magesætas or
Herefordshire[1172], are specially mentioned, were all sent against the
one city of Worcester. Ten [Sidenote: [1051.]] years later, when Eadward
the Confessor required the like chastisement to be inflicted on the town
of Dover, Godwine utterly refused to have any hand in such a business,
and distinctly asserted the right of every Englishman to a legal trial.
But in that case the alleged crime had been done in Godwine’s own
earldom, and no doubt Godwine’s power was much less under Harthacnut
than it became under Eadward, most likely much less than it had been
under Cnut. As things now stood, it was hardly possible to disobey,
unless the Earls had been prepared for [Sidenote: The housecarls.] the
extreme measure of deposing the King. England in fact in this age felt
for the first time both the good and the bad consequences of the
existence of a standing army. We shall hereafter see what the housecarls
could do for England under a patriotic King; we now see what they could
do against Englishmen at the bidding of a rapacious tyrant. It was not
at the head of the forces of their several governments that the Earls
were bidden to attack the offending city. Those forces would have taken
some time to bring together, and, when they were brought together, they
would doubtless have sympathized with their intended victims. The King
had now at his command a body of Janissaries, who could march at a
moment’s notice, a force bound to him by a personal tie, and ready to
carry out his personal will in all things. It was no doubt deemed a
great stroke of policy to implicate in the deed all the chief men of the
land, English and Danish, by putting them at the head of the King’s
personal force. But it seems plain that the Earls showed little zeal in
the bloody errand on which they were sent. Placed as they were, they
could hardly avoid doing much mischief to property, but they were
evidently determined to shed as little blood as might be. [Sidenote:
Worcester burned and the shire ravaged.] Their approach was well
known[1173]—most likely they took care that it should be well known—to
those against whom they were coming. The inhabitants of the shire took
shelter in various places, while the men of the city itself
entrenched[1174] themselves in an island of the Severn, whose name of
Beverege reminds us of one of the losses which our national _fauna_ has
undergone.[1175] They held out for four days; on the fifth peace was
made, and they were allowed to go where they would. But the city was
burned, and the army marched away with great plunder.[1176] The
vengeance of Harthacnut and Ælfric was thus partly satisfied, and the
Archbishop, having thus witnessed the harrying of the diocese upon which
he had been forced, seems to have been not unwilling to give back the
see to its earlier possessor. As Ælfric still held it at the time of the
burning of the city,[1177] it seems to follow that Lyfing’s
reappointment [Sidenote: Patriotic Bishops of Worcester.] happened soon
after this conclusion of peace. And it is a natural conjecture that the
restoration of the popular prelate and the exclusion of the Northumbrian
Metropolitan was one of the articles agreed on between the Earls and the
citizens. Worcester has been happy in its Bishops in more than one great
crisis of our history. Side by side with Godwine we find Lyfing; side by
side with Harold we find Wulfstan; and in later times, when the part of
Godwine is played again by Simon of Montfort, we find Walter of
Cantelupe walking in the steps of Lyfing, and [Sidenote: [1265.]] saying
mass and hearing the confession of the martyred Earl on the morning of
the fight of Evesham.[1178]
Harthacnut had still another great crime in store; but the burning of
Worcester seems to have set the final seal to the shame and hatred which
he had drawn upon himself [Sidenote: Harthacnut recalls Eadward from
Normandy. 1041.] among all classes of his people.[1179] It may have been
a desperate effort to win back some measure of popularity which now led
him to send for his half-brother Eadward out of Normandy.[1180] He could
have had no personal affection for a brother whom he had never seen, and
the influence of Emma would hardly have been exercised in Eadward’s
favour. But the events of the next year showed that popular feeling was
now veering round towards the ancient royal family. The memory of Cnut
had secured the throne to two of his sons in succession; but this
feeling could hardly have survived the evil deeds of Harold and
Harthacnut. Harthacnut himself was childless; he was also, young as he
was,[1181] in failing health.[1182] The recall of Eadward at once
provided him with a successor in case of his death, and with one whose
presence would be some support to him while he lived. Foreign writers
tell us that he associated Eadward with him in the kingdom.[1183] For
this statement there is no English authority, and it is not according to
English customs. But to have given Eadward the government of a part of
the kingdom, whether as Earl or as Under-king, would have been in no way
wonderful. We do not however hear anything of such an arrangement;
Eadward is set before us as living in great honour at his brother’s
court, but no English writer describes him as holding any administrative
office.[1184]
One thing however Eadward did, which, had men’s eyes been open to the
future, would have seemed to them a sure sign of the evil to come. Emma
had brought with her Hugh the French churl, who betrayed Exeter to the
Dane.[1185] So her son, even when coming back as a private man, brought
with him the advanced guard of that second swarm of strangers who were
finally to bring the land into bondage. Among other Frenchmen, Eadward
brought with him to England his nephew Ralph, the son of his sister
Godgifu by her first husband Drogo of Mantes.[1186] He must now have
been a mere youth; but he lived to be gorged with English wealth and
honours, to bring his feeble force to oppose the champions of England,
and to be branded in our history as “the timid Earl,”[1187] who sought
to work improvements in English warfare, and himself turned and fled at
the first sight of an armed enemy.
[Sidenote: The Northumbrian Earls.]
The latest internal events of the reign of Harthacnut call our thoughts
once more to the great Northumbrian earldom. They set vividly before us
the unrestrained barbarism of that part of the kingdom. I have already
described the strange career of Uhtred, and how he at last died, by the
connivance of Cnut in his early days, but by the personal vengeance of
an enemy whom he had himself unwisely omitted to slay.[1188] A fate
almost literally the same now overtook one of his descendants and
successors, whose story introduces us more directly to one of the great
actors [Sidenote: Eadwulf Cutel.] of the next reign. Uhtred, as we have
seen, was succeeded by his brother Eadwulf Cutel, at first, it would
seem, under the superiority of the Danish Eric.[1189] The reign of
Eadwulf was both short and inglorious; he did not long survive the
defeat of the forces of his earldom at Carham.[1190] He was succeeded,
but in the Bernician earldom only, by his nephew Ealdred, son of Uhtred
by the daughter [Sidenote: Ealdred of Bernicia puts Thurbrand to death,]
of Bishop Ealdhun.[1191] The new Earl presently put to death Thurbrand
the murderer of his father. Whether this was done by way of public
justice or of private assassination does not appear, and the savage
manners of the Northumbrian Danes most likely drew no very wide
distinction between the two. But at all events the deadly feud went on
from generation to generation. A bitter enmity raged between Ealdred and
Thurbrand’s son Carl, evidently a powerful thegn.[1192] The two, we are
told, were constantly seeking each other’s lives.[1193] Common friends
contrived to reconcile them, and, like Cnut and Eadmund, they were more
than reconciled; they became sworn brethren. In this character they
undertook to go together on a pilgrimage to Rome; but this pious
undertaking, like so many other undertakings of that age, was hindered
by stress of weather.[1194] They returned to Northumberland together.
The reconciliation on Ealdred’s part had been [Sidenote: and is murdered
by Carl.] made in good faith; not so on the part of Carl. He invited the
Earl to his house; he received and feasted him splendidly, and then, we
are told, slew him in a wood, according to the most approved formula of
assassination.[1195] [Sidenote: Eadwulf of Bernicia. 1038?] Ealdred was
succeeded in Bernicia by his brother Eadwulf. The succession of the
Earls of Yorkshire or Deira is less easy to trace, but, at some time
before this year, the [Sidenote: Siward of Deira.] Southern earldom must
have come into possession of the famous Siward, whom we have already
seen acting as its Earl at the burning of Worcester.[1196] Siward,
surnamed Digera or the Strong,[1197] was a Dane by birth. His gigantic
stature, his vast strength and personal prowess, made him a favourite
hero of romance. He boasted of the same marvellous pedigree as Ulf;
perhaps indeed Siward and Ulf might claim a common forefather on the
non-human side. His name is attached to several charters of the reign of
Cnut, but he does not seem to have risen to Earl’s rank in his time. He
married Æthelflæd,[1198] a daughter of Earl Ealdred, a marriage which
seems to have been his only connexion with the house of the Northumbrian
Earls. Whether he laid any claim to the Bernician earldom in right of
his wife it is hard to say; he was at any rate ready to abet the
criminal designs of Harthacnut against its present possessor. Eadwulf
seems to have been a ruler of more vigour than his uncle of the same
name; at least we hear, though rather darkly, of a devastating campaign
carried on by him against the Britons, a name which here can mean only
the inhabitants of Strathclyde.[1199] He was however in ill odour at the
court of Harthacnut; probably he and the men of his earldom had been
among the foremost in pressing the claims of Harold. He now came to make
his peace with the King, and was received by him to full
friendship.[1200] But Harthacnut was as little bound by his plighted
faith as Carl. As Cnut had allowed or [Sidenote: Eadwulf murdered by
Siward, who obtains all Northumberland. 1041.] commanded the slaughter
of Uhtred at the hands of Thurbrand, Harthacnut now allowed or commanded
the slaughter of Eadwulf at the hands of Siward the husband of his
niece. The murderer forthwith obtained the whole earldom of
Northumberland from the Humber to the Tweed, but it would seem from the
words of a local writer that he obtained [Sidenote: Oswulf son of
Eadwulf.] possession of it only by force.[1201] Oswulf, the young son of
Eadwulf, did not obtain any share of the ancient heritage of his house,
till he was invested with a subordinate [Sidenote: 1065.] government on
the very eve of the Norman Conquest.
[Sidenote: Death of Bishop Eadmund.]
The Bernician earldom was thus disposed of. Early in the next year
Harthacnut had also the disposal of the [Sidenote: Harthacnut sells the
see of Durham to Eadred. 1041–2.] Bernician bishopric. The King was, it
would seem, keeping the Midwinter festival at Gloucester,[1202] and
Bishop Eadmund was in attendance. He died while at the court, and his
body was taken to Durham for burial. Harthacnut presently sold the see
to one Eadred, who seems to have given nearly equal offence by his
simony and by the fact of his being a secular priest.[1203] It is set
down as a mark of divine vengeance that he did not like to take full
possession of the see. At the time appointed for his [Sidenote: Death of
Eadred. 1042.] installation, he fell suddenly ill, and died in the tenth
month from his nomination.[1204]
The reign of Harthacnut was now drawing to an end. [Sidenote: War with
Magnus; defeat of Swegen Estrithson. 1042.] As far as it is possible to
make out anything from the tangled mazes of Scandinavian history and
legend, it would seem that he was engaged in another war with Magnus
after he had fixed himself in England.[1205] He had left as his
lieutenant in Denmark his cousin Swegen, the son of Ulf and Estrith.
Swegen came to England for help against Magnus,[1206] and was despatched
to Denmark a second time with a fleet. He was defeated by the Norwegian
King, and came back to England.[1207] But he [Sidenote: Death of
Harthacnut. June 8, 1042.] found his royal cousin no more. Harthacnut
died during his absence, by a death most befitting a prince whose chief
merit was to have provided four meals a day for his courtiers. “This
year,” say the Chronicles, “died Harthacnut as he at his drink
stood.”[1208] It was at the marriage-feast of Tofig the Proud, a great
Danish Thegn, who held the office of standard-bearer,[1209] with Gytha,
the daughter of Osgod Clapa, a man who fills a considerable space in the
annals of the next reign.[1210] Tofig is chiefly memorable as the first
beginner of that great foundation at Waltham which is so inseparably
connected with the memory of our last native King. He held large estates
in Somerset, Essex, and elsewhere. According to the legend, a miraculous
crucifix was found on his lordship of Lutgaresbury in Somerset, on the
top of the peaked hill from which the place in later times took its name
of Montacute. For the reception of this revered relic he built a church
on his estate of Waltham in Essex, and made a foundation for two
priests. The place was then a mere wilderness, unmarked by any town,
village, or church; Tofig had only a hunting-seat in the forest. But
along with the building of the church, he gathered a certain number of
inhabitants on the spot, and thus, like Ealdhun at Durham, founded the
town as well as the minster of Waltham.[1211] This was in the days of
Cnut. Tofig must have been an elderly man at the time of his marriage
with Gytha,—his eulogist indeed tells us that his youth was renewed like
that of the eagle.[1212] His son Æthelstan was of an age to take a share
in public affairs, and his grandson Ansgar was able to hold great
offices a few years later. Gytha then can hardly fail to have been his
second wife, and he seems not to have long survived his marriage. But
the bridal, held at the house of Gytha’s father at Lambeth, was honoured
with the presence of the King. As Harthacnut arose at the wedding-feast
to propose the health of the bride,[1213] he fell to the ground in a fit
accompanied by frightful struggles,[1214] and was carried out speechless
by those who were near him. He died, and his body was carried to
Winchester and buried by that of his father Cnut in the Old
Minster.[1215] With him the direct line of Cnut came to an end. The
times were such that the land could not long abide without a King. Even
before the burial of Harthacnut another great national solemnity had
taken place. If Swegen cherished any hopes of the English succession,
they vanished when, on his return to England, [Sidenote: Eadward chosen
King. June, 1042.] he found a son of Æthelred already called to the
throne of his fathers. “Before the King buried were, all folk chose
Eadward to King at London.”[1216]
[Sidenote: End of the preliminary part of the history.]
I have thus gone through the whole of that part of my history which I
look upon as introductory to its main subject. We have now gone through
all the events which form the remoter causes of the Norman Conquest.
[Sidenote: The Norman Conquest begins with the election of Eadward.] The
accession of Eadward at once brings us among the events which
immediately led to the Conquest, or rather we may look upon his
accession as the first stage of the Conquest itself. Swegen and Cnut had
shown that it was possible for a foreign power to overcome England by
force of arms. The misgovernment of the sons of Cnut hindered the
formation of a lasting Danish dynasty in England; the throne of Cerdic
was again filled by a son of Woden; but there can be no doubt that the
shock given to the country by the Danish Conquest, especially the way in
which the ancient nobility was cut off in the long struggle with Swegen
and Cnut, directly opened the way for the coming of the Norman. Eadward
did his best, wittingly or unwittingly, to make the path of the Norman
still easier. This he did by accustoming Englishmen to the sight of
strangers—not national kinsmen like Cnut’s Danes, but Frenchmen, men of
utterly alien speech and manners—enjoying every available place of
honour or profit in the country. The great national reaction under
Godwine and Harold made England once more England for a few years. But
this change, happy as it was, could not altogether do away with the
effects of the French tastes of Eadward. With Eadward then the Norman
Conquest really begins, and his election therefore forms the proper
break between these two great [Sidenote: Position of the leading men of
this and the next generation.] divisions of my subject. The men of the
generation before the Conquest, the men whose eyes were not to behold
the event itself, but who were to do all that they could do to hasten or
to delay it, are now in the full maturity of life, in the full
possession of power. Eadward is on the throne of England; Godwine,
Leofric, and Siward divide among them the administration of the realm.
The next generation, the warriors of Stamfordbridge and Senlac, of York
and Ely, are fast growing into manhood. Harold Hardrada is already
following his wild career of knight-errantry in distant lands, and is
astonishing the world by his exploits in Russia and in Sicily, at
Constantinople and at Jerusalem. Swegen Estrithson is still a wanderer,
not startling men by wonders of prowess like Harold, but schooling
himself and gathering his forces for the day when he could establish a
lasting dynasty in his native land. In our own land, the younger
warriors of the Conquest, Eadwine and Morkere and Waltheof and Hereward,
were probably born, but they must still have been in their cradles or in
their mothers’ arms. But among the leaders of Church and State, Ealdred,
who lived to place the crown on the head both of Harold and of William,
was already a great prelate, Abbot of the great house of Tavistock, soon
to succeed the patriot Lyfing in the chair of Worcester. Stigand,
climbing to greatness by slower steps, was already the chosen counsellor
of Emma, a candidate for any post of dignity and influence that chance
might open to him. Wulfstan, destined to outlive them all, had begun
that career of quiet holiness, neither seeking for, nor shrinking from,
responsibility in temporal matters, which distinguishes him among the
political and military prelates of that age. In the house of Godwine
that group of sons and daughters were springing up which for a moment
promised to become the royal line of England. Eadgyth was growing into
those charms of mind and person which perhaps failed to win for her the
heart of the King who called her his wife. Gyrth and Leofwine were still
boys; Tostig was on the verge of manhood; Swegen and Harold were already
men, bold and vigorous, ready to march at their father’s bidding, and
before long to affect the destiny of their country for evil and for
good. Beyond the sea, William, still a boy in years, but a man in
conduct and counsel, was holding his own among the storms of a troubled
minority, and learning those arts of the statesman and the warrior which
fitted him to become the wisest ruler of Normandy, the last and greatest
Conqueror of England. Thus the actors in the great drama are ready for
their parts; the ground is gradually clearing for the scene of their
performance. The great struggle of nations and tongues and principles in
which each of them had his share, the struggle in which William of
Normandy and Harold of England stand forth as worthy rivals for the
noblest of prizes, will form the subject of the next, the chief and
central portion of my history.
APPENDIX.
NOTE A. p. 13.
THE USE OF THE WORD “ENGLISH.”
My readers will doubtless have remarked—indeed I have, in the text,
expressly called their attention to the fact—that, in speaking of the
Teutonic inhabitants of Britain looked at as a whole, I always use the
word “English,” never the words “Saxon” or “Anglo-Saxon,” which are more
commonly in use. I do this advisedly, on more grounds than one. I hold
it to be a sound rule to speak of a nation, as far as may be, by the
name by which it called itself in the age of which we are speaking. This
alone would be reason enough for using the word “English” and no other.
But besides this, the common way of talking about “Saxons” and
“Anglo-Saxons” leads to various confusions and misconceptions; it ought
therefore to be avoided on that ground still more than on the other.
I am not aware of any instance in which a Teutonic inhabitant of
Britain, living before the Norman Conquest, and speaking in his own
tongue and in his own name of the whole nation formed by the union of
the various Teutonic tribes in Britain, uses the word “Saxon.” “Engle,”
“Angel-cyn,” are the words always used. The only exceptions, if we can
call them exceptions, are certain charters in which the King of the
English is called “King of the Anglo-Saxons.” Of these I shall presently
speak (see below, p. 540, and Appendix B). But I am not aware that the
word “Anglo-Saxon” is ever used in English writings except in the royal
style, and even there it is excessively rare. It is quite certain that
the word “Anglo-Saxon” was not used, any more than the word “Saxon,” as
the ordinary name of the nation. An inhabitant of one of the real Saxon
settlements might indeed call himself a Saxon as opposed to his Anglian
or Jutish neighbours. But even in this case it is remarkable that we
very seldom find the word “Saxon” used alone. It is almost always
coupled with one of its geographical adjuncts, “West,” “East,” or
“South.” Cuthred’s army at Burford (see pp. 38, 517) is not spoken of as
the “Saxon” but as the “West-Saxon” host, even though its adversaries
were Angles. But the word “Saxon” is never used, in the native tongue,
to express either the whole nation or any part of it which was not
strictly Saxon. On the other hand, the words “Engle” and “Angel-cyn” are
constantly used to express, not only the whole nation, but particular
parts of it which were not strictly Anglian. The Chronicles use the
words in this sense from the very beginning. They expressly tell us that
Hengest and Horsa were, in strictness, not Angles, but Jutes; yet their
followers are called “Engle” (473), and the Teutonic settlers as a whole
are called “Angel-cyn” (449). One single passage in the Chronicles
(605), which has another look, I shall have presently to speak of as
being most distinctly an exception which proves the rule. “Engle,” in
short, in native speech, is the name of the whole nation, of which the
“Seaxe” are a part.
On the other hand, for reasons which I have already stated (see p. 13),
all the Teutonic settlers in Britain have always been known to their
Celtic neighbours as “Saxons.” They were so in the fifth century; they
are so still. In the Pictish Chronicle, for instance, Lothian is always
“Saxonia.” On the continent too the word was sometimes used to describe
the Teutonic settlers in Britain before they were fully consolidated
into one kingdom. At the very beginning Prosper (see Appendix C) talks
of Saxons, while Prokopios (see above, pp. 22, 31) talks of Ἄγγιλοι. As
Gregory the Great calls the Jutish Æthelberht “Rex Anglorum” (Bæda,
Hist. Eccl. i. 32), so Einhard speaks of certain Northumbrians, who
therefore were strictly Angles, as Saxons. Ealhwine (Alcuin), who was
certainly a Northumbrian, is called (Vita Karoli, 25) “Saxonici generis
homo,” and one Ealdwulf, who seems also to have been a Northumbrian,
appears (Annals, 808) as “de ipsa Britannia, natione Saxo.” But I
suspect that this way of speaking was peculiar or nearly so to Einhard.
A generation earlier, Paul Warnefrid has several passages which
illustrate the uncertain way in which the Teutonic settlers in Britain
were for a long time spoken of on the Continent. But though he uses the
words “Angli” and “Saxones” as it might seem indiscriminately, there is
no case in which it is clear that he applies the Saxon name to any but
real Saxons, while he uses the Anglian name to take in those who were
not real Angles. First of all, in ii. 6 the Saxons who joined in
Alboin’s invasion of Italy are distinguished as “vetuli Saxones.” In
iii. 25 he records the conversion of the English, how “Beatus Gregorius
Augustinum, ... in Britanniam misit, eorumque prædicatione ad Christum
_Anglos_ convertit.” In v. 30 we read of the “ecclesiæ _Anglorum_;” but
in c. 32 the banished prince Bertarid “ad Britanniam insulam
_Saxonumque_ regem properare disponit;” and in c. 33, “navem ascendit ut
ad Britanniam insulam ad regnum _Saxonum_ transmearet.” Here a
West-Saxon King is doubtless meant. In vi. 28 we find two persons,
seemingly Ine and his wife Æthelburh, described in the text as “duo
reges _Saxonum_,” and in the heading as “duo _Anglorum_ reges.” Lastly,
in vi. 37 the fashion of pilgrimage is attributed to “multi _Anglorum_
gentis nobiles et ignobiles;” and in the same chapter _Saxones_ is used
in its common meaning of Old-Saxons. Altogether, “Anglus” is the
received and usual name even from the earliest times; it became more
usual as time went on, and after the nation was consolidated, when the
“Rex Anglorum” was known on the continent as a great potentate, any
other way of speaking altogether died out, and foreign nations always
spoke of us as we spoke of ourselves. The opposition between “Saxon” and
“Norman,” so commonly made by modern writers when speaking of the days
of the Conquest, is never found in any contemporary writer of any
nation. The rule on this head during the period of the Conquest is very
plain. In the English Chronicles, in Domesday and other legal documents,
and in the Bayeux Tapestry, the opposition is made between “French” and
“English.” “The King’s men, French and English,” form an exhaustive
division. In Latin writers, especially those on the Norman side, the
opposition is made between “Normans” and “English.” “Normans” and
“Saxons” are not opposed till long after. The earliest instance that I
know of the usage is in Robert of Gloucester, who opposes “Normans” and
“Saxons” exactly as Thierry does, in verses which Thierry has not
inappropriately chosen for the epilogue of his work;
“Of þe Normannes beþ þẏs hey men, þat beþ of þys lond,
And þe lowe men of Saxons, as ẏch understonde.”
(Vol. i. p. 363, ed. 1810.)
It is possibly owing to the comparative laxity of the foreign use of the
words that even the native use is not quite so strict in Latin writings
as it is in those which are composed in the native tongue. Native
writers, when following, or translating from, Welsh authorities, often
follow the Welsh usage, and use the word “Saxones” in positions where,
if they had been speaking in their own persons, they would certainly
have used the word “Angli.” There is one instance, and, as far as I
know, one instance only, of this Welsh usage having made its way into
the English speech. In the entry in the Chronicles under the year 605,
the word “Saxon” does occur for once in the wider sense. But the word is
not used by the Chronicler in his own person, nor is it put into the
mouth of any Angle or Saxon. It is found in a speech of Augustine to the
Welsh Bishops; “Gif Wealas nellað sibbe wið us, hy sculon æt _Seaxena_
handa forwurðan,” a prediction which was accomplished by the invasion of
the Anglian Æthelfrith. Here is a story, probably preserved by Welsh
tradition, in which a Roman speaking to Welshmen is made to adopt a
Welsh form of speech. The contrast between this passage and the ordinary
language of the Chronicles makes the ordinary usage still more marked.
In Latin the usage is more common. Asser, as a Welshman, naturally
speaks of “Saxones,” and his so speaking is a strong proof of the
genuineness of his work. Florence of Worcester therefore, in that part
of his Chronicle in which he copies Asser, keeps Asser’s language, and
speaks of “Saxones,” whereas, when speaking in his own words or
translating from the English Chronicles, he speaks of “Angli” from the
beginning. No doubt the subjects of Ælfred, the books, poems, &c. to
which the name “Saxon” is thus applied, were strictly Saxon; but no
West-Saxon, speaking in his own tongue, would have called them so.
Ælfred calls his own tongue “English,” and nothing else; but Asser
naturally called it “Saxon.” So Bæda, as long as he draws from Welsh
sources or repeats Welsh traditions, uses the words “Angli” and
“Saxones” almost indiscriminately (Hist. Eccl. i. 14, 15, 22); but, as
soon as he begins fairly to speak in his own person, he always uses
“Angli” (i. 23 et seqq.). Exactly the same distinction will be found in
the use of the words by Æthelweard and Henry of Huntingdon, who
constantly use the word “Saxones” in what we may call the Welsh stage of
their histories. But Henry uses “Anglus” also from the beginning, and,
when he gets fairly clear of Welsh matters, he uses it exclusively. It
is most curious to see him, as in the Prologue to the fifth Book, fall
back on the Welsh way of speaking when he has to make a summary of what
has gone before. And as the Welsh way of speaking affected these
writers, we find writers who had occasion to speak of Pictish matters
affected in the like way by Pictish usage. Thus Æddi or Eddius, the
biographer of Wilfrith (c. 19, 20), speaking of the relations between
Picts and Northumbrians, uses the Pictish mode of speech; he speaks of
“Saxones,” and says that the Picts “subjectionem Saxonum despiciebant.”
Besides these instances of Celtic influence on English speech, it is not
uncommon to find in the charters the word “Saxonice” used as a
definition of language, where the vernacular definition would
undoubtedly have been “on Englisc.” In West-Saxon charters the usage is
in truth no more than we might have looked for. The words and things
spoken of were Saxon in the strict sense. Bæda too not uncommonly (iii.
7 et al.) uses “Saxon” as a description of language; but it is usually,
if not always, when he is speaking of persons or places which are
strictly Saxon. He may therefore mean “Saxon” as opposed to “Anglian.”
But the usage certainly now and then passes these bounds, and we find
the word Saxon and its derivatives applied to objects which were not
strictly Saxon. Thus in a charter of Ecgfrith of Mercia in 796 (Cod.
Dipl. i. 207), we find the words “celebri vico qui _Saxonice_ vocatur æt
Baðum.” Though even here it is worth remarking that the place spoken of,
though at that time under Mercian rule, was in a district which was
originally Saxon and which became Saxon again. So in a deed of
Archbishop Oswald as late as 990 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 253) we read how a
certain grant “in ista cartula _Saxonicis_ sermonibus apparet.” But the
land spoken of is in Worcestershire, also a district originally Saxon.
It is more remarkable when in a charter of Archbishop Wulfred in 825
(Cod. Dipl. i. 280), the Synod of Clovesho is said to be “de diversis
_Saxoniæ_ partibus congregatum.” As the document chiefly relates to
Mercian affairs, it is clear that “Saxonia” here means England
generally. The word is used in the same sense at an earlier time in a
petition of Wilfrith to Pope Agatho (Eddius, c. 29), in which he
describes himself as “episcopus _Saxoniæ_.” So again in the
letter—whether genuine or not, matters little—of Eleutherius of
Winchester in William of Malmesbury (i. 30), he is described as
“pontificatus _Saxoniæ_ gubernacula regens.” In this passage “Saxonia”
might mean Wessex; but Hwætberht, Abbot of Wearmouth (Bæda, Hist. Abb.
Wiremuth, c. 14. p. 329 Hussey), also calls himself “Abbas cœnobii
beatissimi apostolorum principis in Saxonia.” It should of course be
remembered that these are letters addressed to foreigners, and in which
a foreign mode of speech is naturally adopted. Still, when I have these
examples before me, and when I remember how late it was before the names
“Anglia” and “Englaland” became thoroughly established in use, I am
inclined to think that “Saxonia” may be the older name of the two. We
have seen (see p. 79) that the name Englaland dates only from the last
period of the Danish wars; the earliest use of it that I have come
across is not earlier than the reign of Æthelred, being found in the
treaty with Olaf and Justin in 991 (see p. 79, and below, Note DD). Here
the word _Englaland_, _Ænglaland_, is twice found. From the latter days
of Æthelred and the reign of Cnut the territorial name becomes more and
more commonly used. (It is needless to say that the entry in the
Canterbury Chronicle for 876 and the long insertion at 995 are not
contemporary.) It would seem then that the name of England was first
used in opposition, not to Wales or Scotland, but to the Scandinavian
lands. As opposed to the lands of the Scot and the Briton the strict
territorial name was rather _Saxony_ than _England_. It was only natural
that it should be so. The part of Britain occupied by the Teutonic
invaders, the English land as distinguished from the English people,
would receive its first territorial name from the Celts of the island,
and that name would naturally be, as we have seen in the case of
Lothian, “Saxonia.” In dealing with foreigners, even Englishmen might,
in the days of Wilfrith or Hwætberht, use the only territorial name
which their country had as yet acquired, and, in the days of Wulfred,
the same word might be now and then used as a rhetorical flourish. I am
therefore inclined to think that there is really more authority for
calling England, as a whole, “Saxony,” than there is for calling
Englishmen, as a whole, “Saxons.” The Latin name _Anglia_ is most likely
older than the English _Englaland_. But it is hard to say when it came
into contemporary use. It seems to be unknown to Bæda, but it is
familiar to Æthelweard. A rarer form, “Angul-Saxonia,” “Anglo-Saxonia,”
is now and then found, as in a charter of Eadward the Elder in Cod.
Dipl. v. 165, and in a doubtful charter of Æthelred (see below, p. 557).
So in a Frankish ecclesiastical writer in Duchesne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt.
i. 665, Queen Balthild is said to come “de ultramarinis partibus
Angli-Saxoniæ.” Still, whatever may have been the case in earlier times,
all these usages had died out long before the time of the Norman
Conquest. After all England and all Britain had been brought into
subjection to a Saxon dynasty, we hear no more about “Saxons” or
“Saxony.” The latest instance that I can remember of “Saxonice” being
used for “on Englisc” is in a passage of Florence of Worcester (1002,
see p. 306), where he says that the Norman Emma was “_Saxonice_ Ælfgiva
vocata.” The expression stands almost by itself; but it should be
remembered that it is of the West-Saxon speech that it is used. During
the period of the Conquest, as the people are always “Angli” and their
land “Anglia,” so it is always the English language (“lingua Anglica or
Anglicana”), never the Saxon, which contemporary writers oppose to the
French.
The fact that the word “Saxon” is thus occasionally used in Latin, in
cases where we always find “English” used in the native tongue, is, I
think, mainly to be attributed to the tendency, one which has more or
less influence on almost all Latin writings then and since, to use
expressions which sounded in any way grander or more archaic than those
which were in common use. I suspect that the occasional use of “Saxon”
instead of “English” was very much of a piece with the use, not uncommon
in the charters, of “Albion” to express Britain. To talk of “Saxonia,”
“Saxonice,” &c. was doubtless one of the elegancies of the _Kanzleistyl_
of those days. It is an archaism, just as when, in a charter of Eadwig
(Cod. Dipl. ii. 324; cf. 391), we read of the “Gewissi,” a name which
had passed out of use ages before. Once or twice we find “Teutonice”
instead of either “Anglice” or “Saxonice.” The decrees of the Synod of
Cealcyth in 787 (Labbe and Cossart, vi. 1873) were published “tam Latine
quam _Teutonice_, quo omnes intelligere possent.” So in the Encomium
Emmæ (ii. 18) we once find the word used where either English or Danish
is intended, and the expression is an unusual and affected one as
applied to either. In a most remarkable story told by Giraldus (Itin.
Kamb. i. 6. p. 64 Dimock), a Welshman is said to speak to Henry the
Second “quasi Teutonice,” and is presently answered “Anglice.” But
Giraldus elsewhere (i. 8. p. 77), in his curious philological
discussion, distinguishes “Anglice” and “Teutonice,” though his
“Teutonice” does not seem to be _High_-Dutch. There can be no doubt that
this use of “Teutonice” was simply an instance of “the grand style.” It
is less clearly so when Fordun (ii. 9) says that in Scotland “duabus
utuntur linguis, Scotica videlicet et Theuthonica.” For he writes at a
time when men were just beginning to be unwilling to give the English
name to the Teutonic speech of Scotland. But in earlier times we may be
sure that, when men said either “Teutonice” or “Saxonice” instead of
“Anglice,” the unusual word was chosen mainly as being finer. Still, in
the great mass of instances, the use of the word “Saxon,” affected and
archaistic as it is, is still accurate. It is rarely used out of the
strictly Saxon districts, while “Anglus” and its derivatives are freely
used out of the strictly Anglian districts. The title of “Rex Saxonum,”
so common in the age of Ælfred, was, as I have elsewhere said (see p.
54), the most accurate which he could assume. Still it appears only as a
Latin title; in his vernacular will and his vernacular laws he is only
“King of the West-Saxons.” (See p. 52, and Cod. Dipl. ii. 114.) It might
be thought to have an English equivalent in the Abingdon Chronicle under
867, where we read, “Her feng Æþered Æþelbryhtes broþor to _Seaxna
rice_,” but as all the other copies have “_West-Seaxna rice_,” it is
most likely a slip of the pen.
The name “Anglo-Saxon,” though rare, is a genuine and ancient
description of the nation. There are some, though rare, vernacular
examples of its use (see below, pp. 549, 556), to which I shall have to
refer again. It is also used rather more commonly in Latin, as by Asser
(M. H. B. 483 A), by Florence of Worcester (A. 1066), by Simeon of
Durham (X Scriptt. 137). In the Latin charters, especially those of
Eadwig, it is not uncommon (see the list in pp. 554–558). So in a
charter of Eadward the Elder which has been quoted already (Cod. Dipl.
v. 168, 169), as he calls the land “Angul-Saxonia,” so he twice calls
himself “Angul-Saxonum rex.” The word is not uncommon in foreign
writers; it occurs for instance in the singular passage of Lambert of
Herzfeld (1066) in which Harold is called “Rex Angli-Saxonum.” To go
back to earlier writers, it is found in Paul Warnefrid (iv. 23), where,
describing the manners of the Lombards, he says, “Vestimenta eis erant
laxa et maxime lintea, qualia _Angli-Saxones_ habere solent.” In c. 37,
“Cunibertus rex Hermilindam e _Saxonum Anglorum_ genere duxit uxorem.”
Here the name Eormenhild, cognate with the royal Kentish names
Eormenred, Eormenburh, Eormengyth, and Eormengild, seems to show almost
for certain from what part of England the Lombard King brought his wife.
But presently in vi. 15 the West-Saxon Ceadwalla appears as “Cedoaldus
rex _Anglorum-Saxonum_,” though in the heading he is “Theodebaldus rex
_Anglorum_.” (These passages show how fast the Anglian name was
spreading over the Saxon and Jutish districts.) The compound name is
used also by Widukind in a very amusing passage (i. 8; cf. p. 567),
where, having mentioned how certain Saxons settled in Britain, he adds,
“Et quia illa insula in angulo quodam maris sita est, _Anglisaxones_
usque hodie vocitantur.” So Prudentius of Troyes (Pertz, i. 449) calls
Æthelwulf “Edilvulfus rex _Anglorum-Saxonum_.” Elsewhere (i. 451) he
gives him his usual title of “Rex Occidentalium Saxonum.” In another
passage (i. 452) he records how in 860 a Danish fleet sailed “ad
Anglo-Saxones.” And in a third, under the year 844 (Pertz, i. 441),
“Nortmanni Britanniam insulam ea quam maxime parte quam _Angli-Saxones_
incolunt impetentes.” So in the Annals of Quedlinburg (Pertz, iii. 32),
“_Angli-Saxones_ in Britannia fidem percipiunt;” in those of
Weissemburg, 1066 (Pertz, iii. 71), “Comes Willihelmus qui et Basthart
(see vol. ii. p. 582) _Anglos-Saxones_ et regem illorum occidit
regnumque obtinuit.” In the Annales Altahenses, 1066 (Pertz, xx. 817),
we hear of “Angli-Saxonici.” In the Life of Saint Boniface (Pertz, ii.
338) London or “Lundenwich” is so called “_Anglorum Saxonumque_
vocabulo;” and in Aimon of Fleury (Pertz, ix. 375) Lewis the son of
Charles the Simple flies “ad _Anglo-Saxones_.” All these passages remind
us of the “Prisci Latini,” and all are in the plural. Orderic too once
or twice uses expressions to the same effect. Thus he (666 A) makes
certain Normans say “Saxones Anglos prostravimus.” Elsewhere he makes
Wimund (525 B) speak of the original English conquerors as
“Angli-Saxones.” Again, speaking in his own person (722 B), he recounts
the Norman exploits, and adds, “Hoc Itali et Guinili _Saxonesque Angli_
usque ad internecionem experti sunt.” And again in 887 B, where he is
talking of Welsh matters and the prophecies of Merlin, he speaks of
“Saxones Anglos, qui tunc pagani Christicolas Britones oppugnabant.” But
these unusual phrases are clearly mere flourishes, just as when he calls
the Byzantine Empire “Ionia” and its inhabitants “Danai” and “Pelasgi.”
The passage reminds one of the comment of William of Poitiers (137),
where, after describing the valour of the English at Senlac, he adds,
“Gens equidem illa natura semper in ferrum prompta fuit, descendens ab
antiqua Saxonum origine ferocissimorum hominum.” But he never calls the
English of his own time “Saxons.”
“Anglo-Saxon” then, unlike “Saxon,” is a description which is fully
justified by ancient authority. But it is quite clear that it is a
description which never passed into common use. It is found mainly in
charters and as a peculiarity of one or two writers, who doubtless
thought that it had a grander or more learned sound than the usual name.
The name by which our forefathers really knew themselves was “English”
and none other. “Angli,” “Engle,” “Angel-cyn,” “Englisc,” are the true
names by which the Teutons of Britain knew themselves and their
language. The people are the English, their tongue is the English
tongue, their King is the King of the English. The instances of any
other use are to be found in a foreign language, and are easily
accounted for by exceptional causes. And even these exceptional usages
had quite died away before the stage of our history with which we are
immediately concerned. The people whom William overcame at Senlac, and
over whom he was crowned King at Westminster, knew themselves and were
known to their conquerors by the name of ENGLISH and by the name of
ENGLISH alone.
But it is sometimes argued that, though our forefathers confessedly
called themselves English, yet we ought, in speaking of them, to call
them something else; that, though Ælfred called his own tongue English,
we ought to correct him and call it Saxon. Now the presumption is surely
in favour of calling any people by the name by which they called
themselves, especially when that name had gone on in uninterrupted use
to our own days. Our national nomenclature has never changed for a
thousand years. In the days of Ælfred, as now, the Englishman speaking
in his own tongue called himself an Englishman. In the days of Ælfred,
as now, his Celtic neighbour called him a Saxon. As we do not now speak
of ourselves by the name by which Welshmen and Highlanders speak of us,
some very strong reason indeed ought to be brought to show that we ought
to speak of our forefathers, not as they spoke of themselves, but as
Welshmen and Highlanders spoke of them. But the reason commonly given
springs out of mere misconception and leads to further misconceptions.
From some inscrutable cause, people fancy that the word English cannot
be rightly applied to the nation, its language, or its institutions,
till after the Norman element has been absorbed into it; that is, they
fancy that nothing can be called English till it has become somewhat
less English than it was at an earlier time. The tongue which Ælfred, in
the days of its purity, called English, we must not venture to call
English till the days when it had received a considerable infusion of
French. This notion springs from an utterly wrong conception of the
history of our nation. The refusal to call ourselves and our forefathers
a thousand years back by the same name springs from a failure to take in
the fact that our nation which exists now is the same nation as that
which migrated from Germany to Britain in the fifth century. In the
words of Sir Francis Palgrave, “I must needs here pause, and substitute
henceforward the true and antient word English for the unhistorical and
conventional term Anglo-Saxon, an expression conveying a most false idea
in our civil history. _It disguises the continuity of affairs, and
substitutes the appearance of a new formation in the place of a
progressive evolution._” (Normandy and England, iii. 596.) People talk
of the “English” as a new nation which arose, in the thirteenth century
perhaps, as a mixed race of which the “Saxons” or “Anglo-Saxons” were
only one element among several. Now in a certain sense, we undoubtedly
are a mixed race, but not in the sense in which popular language
implies. We are a mixed race in the sense of being a people whose
predominant blood and speech has incorporated and assimilated with
itself more than one foreign infusion. But we are not what our
High-Dutch kinsmen call a _Mischvolk_, a mere _colluvies gentium_, a
mere jumble of races in which no one element is predominant. People run
over the succession of the various occupants of Britain—Romans, Britons,
Saxons, Danes, Normans—sometimes as if they were races each of which ate
up the one before it, sometimes as if they were, each in the same sense,
component elements of the modern English nation. The correct statement
of the case is much clearer and simpler. A Low-Dutch people, which took
as its national name the name of one of its tribes, namely the Angles,
settled in Britain in the fifth and sixth centuries. It has occupied the
greater part of Britain ever since. It has ever since kept its unbroken
national being, its national language, its national name. But it has at
different times assimilated several foreign elements. The conquered
Welsh were, as far as might be, slaughtered or driven out; but a small
Welsh infusion into our language, and therefore no doubt a small Welsh
infusion into our blood, is owing to the fact that the women were
largely spared. A small Welsh element was thus assimilated. The Danish
element, far greater in extent than the Welsh, hardly needed
assimilation; the ethnical difference between the Englishman and the
Dane was hardly greater than the ethnical difference between one tribe
of Englishmen and another. Lastly came the Norman, or rather French,
element, which was also gradually assimilated, but not till it had
poured a most important infusion, though still only an infusion, into
our institutions and our language. Thus, besides the kindred Danes, we
have assimilated two wholly foreign elements, British and French, what
our forefathers called _Bret-Welsh_ and _Gal-Welsh_. But these elements
are not coequal with the original substance of the nation. In all these
cases, the foreign element was simply incorporated and assimilated into
the existing Low-Dutch stock. The small Welsh element, the large Danish
and French elements, were absorbed in the predominant English mass. The
Briton and the Norman gradually became Englishmen. The kindred Dane of
course became an Englishman with far greater ease. All adopted the
English name; all adopted, while to some extent they modified, the
English tongue. If we confine the name “English” to the men, the speech,
the laws, of the time after the last assimilation had become complete,
if we talk of “Saxons” as only one coequal element among others, we
completely misrepresent the true history of our nation and our language.
Such a way of speaking cuts us off from our connexion with our
forefathers; it wipes out the fact that we are the same people who came
into this island fourteen hundred years back, and not another people. We
have absorbed some very important elements from various quarters, but
our true substance is still the same. We are like a Roman _gens_, some
of whose members, by virtue of the law of adoption, were not Fabii or
Cornelii by actual blood, but which none the less was the Fabian or
Cornelian _gens_. If we allow ourselves to use, as people constantly do,
the words “Saxon” or “Anglo-Saxon” as chronological terms, we altogether
wipe out the fact of the unbroken life of our nation. People talk of
“Saxons” and “Anglo-Saxons” as of races past and gone. Sometimes,
especially in architectural disquisitions, they seem to fancy that all
“the Saxons” lived at one time, forgetting that Harold is removed from
Hengest by as many years as Charles the First is removed from Harold. A
man, a word, a book, a building, earlier than 1066 is called “Saxon;”
whether the same man, word, book, or building, after 1066 is “Norman,” I
have never been able to find out. Waltheof, born before 1066, was of
course a “Saxon;” what were the children whom he begot and the buildings
which he built after 1066? This chronological use of the word “Saxon”
implies one of two alternatives; either the “Saxons” were exterminated
by the Normans, or else the “Saxons” turned into Normans. People talk of
“the Saxon Period” and “the Norman Period,” as if they followed one
another like the periods of geology, or like Hesiod’s races of men. The
“Norman Period” is a phrase which may be admitted to express a time when
Norman influences were politically predominant. We may speak of a Norman
period, as we may speak of an Angevin period or an Hanoverian period.
But, if we are to talk of a “Saxon period” at all, it is a period which
began in 449 and which has not ended in 1877.
The most grotesque instance of this confused sort of nomenclature is to
be found in the technical language of unscientific philologers. The
gradual result of the Norman Conquest on the English language was
twofold. The English language, like other languages, especially other
Low-Dutch languages, was, at the time of the Conquest, already beginning
to lose, in popular speech at least, the fulness and purity of its
ancient inflexions. This process the Norman Conquest hastened and
rendered more complete. It also brought in a great number of foreign
words into the language, many of which supplanted native words. The
result of these two processes is that the English of a thousand years
back, like the Scandinavian or the High-Dutch of a thousand years back,
is now unintelligible except to those who specially study it. But the
English language has never either changed its name or lost its
continuity. In the eyes of the scientific philologer, it is the same
English tongue throughout all its modifications. But by unscientific
philologers, the language, from some utterly mysterious cause, is not
called English until the two processes of which I speak are
accomplished. Before those processes begin, it is “Saxon” or
“Anglo-Saxon;” while they are going on, it is “_Semi-Saxon_”—a name
perhaps the most absurd to be found in the nomenclature of any human
study. It is manifest that, with such a nomenclature as this, the true
history of the English language and its relation to other Teutonic
languages never can be understood.
One word as to the name “Anglo-Saxon.” I have shown that it is a real
ancient name, used, though very rarely, in English documents, and
somewhat more commonly in Latin ones. But it was always a mere formal
description; it never became the familiar name of the nation. The
meaning of the word also is commonly completely misconceived. In modern
use “Anglo-” is a prefix which is used very freely, and which is
certainly used in more than one meaning. We have heard of
“Anglo-Saxons,” “Anglo-Normans,” “Anglo-Americans,” “Anglo-Indians,”
“Anglo-Catholics.” I cannot presume to guess at the meaning of the
prefix in the last formation; but I conceive “Anglo-Normans” to mean
Normans settled in England, and “Anglo-Americans” to mean Englishmen
settled in America. By “Anglo-Saxons,” I conceive, in the vulgar use of
the word, is meant Saxons who settled in England (meaning of course in
Britain), as opposed to the Old-Saxons who stayed in Germany. It is as
when Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 708 C) inaccurately talks of an
“adventus Saxonum in Angliam,” while the accurate Bæda (Hist. Eccl. i.
23) talks of the “adventus Anglorum in Brittaniam.” And it would seem
that this really was the sense in which the compound name was used by
some of the foreign writers. Indeed, as soon as the Teutonic part of
Britain came to be commonly known by the name of “Anglia,” some such
phrase as “Anglo-Saxones” would be, from a continental point of view,
not an unnatural description of the Saxons of the island as
distinguished from those of the mainland. It is plain that all
remembrance of continental “Angli” must have passed away from the mind
of Widukind when he made the grotesque derivation—one not all peculiar
to himself—which was quoted in p. 541. But this is not the meaning of
the word “Anglo-Saxon” as used by Asser, Florence, and King Æthelstan.
“King of the Anglo-Saxons,” as a title of Æthelstan or Eadred, meant
simply “King of the Angles and Saxons,” a way of describing him which
was clearly more correct, though far less usual, than the common style
of “Rex Anglorum.” In the ancient Coronation Service (see vol. iii.
chap. xi. and Appendix E; Selden’s Titles of Honour, 116), in the same
prayer we twice read “Anglorum vel (= et) Saxonum,” once
“Anglo-Saxonum.” The latter form is clearly a mere abbreviation, perhaps
a mere clerical error. That, under a purely Saxon dynasty, the title of
“Rex Anglorum” became regular and universal, that “Rex Saxonum” died
completely out, that “Rex Anglo-Saxonum” was always rare, is the most
overwhelming proof that “English” was the real and only recognized name
of the united nation. “Anglo-Saxon” then, in certain positions, is a
perfectly correct description. But it is dangerous to use it, because it
is so extremely liable to misconstruction. Again, its correct use is so
very narrow, that the term becomes almost useless. It has no real
meaning except in the plural. It is quite correct to call Æthelstan
“King of the Anglo-Saxons,” but to call this or that subject of
Æthelstan “an Anglo-Saxon” is simply nonsense. I have as yet only once
lighted on the use of the word in the singular, namely in the Vita
Alchuini, 11 (Jaffé, Monumenta Alcuiniana, p. 25), where a certain
priest is described as “Engelsaxo.” See Mullinger, Schools of Charles
the Great, 113. As a _chronological_ term “Anglo-Saxon” is equally
objectionable with “Saxon.” The “Anglo-Saxon period,” so far as there
ever was one, is going on still.
I speak therefore of our forefathers, not as “Saxons” or even as
“Anglo-Saxons,” but as they spoke of themselves, as Englishmen—“Angli,”
“Engle,” “Angel-cyn.” I call their language, not “Saxon” or even
“Anglo-Saxon,” but, as Ælfred called it, “English.” I thus keep to the
custom of the time of which I speak, and I also avoid the misconception
and confusion which must follow any other way of speaking. But the
different shapes which names have taken in later times allow us to make
an useful distinction between the two uses of the same word. In Latin it
was necessary to use the single word “Anglus” to express both the whole
nation and one particular part of it. But we can now speak of the whole
nation as “English,” while we can speak of the tribe from which the
nation borrowed its name as “Anglian.” When I wish pointedly to
distinguish the men, the language, or the institutions of the time
before 1066 from those of any time after 1066, I speak distinctively of
“Old-English,” as our kinsmen speak of “Alt-Deutsch.”
I now leave the subject with a reference to the golden words of Sir
Francis Palgrave, England and Normandy, iii. 630–2.
NOTE B. pp. 28, 133.
THE BRETWALDADOM AND THE IMPERIAL TITLES.
It is almost impossible, after the connexion between them which Sir
Francis Palgrave so earnestly strove to establish, to treat the question
of the Bretwaldas apart from the question of the Imperial titles borne
by the English Kings of the tenth and eleventh centuries. The unbroken
connexion between the two is the very life and soul of his theory. And
in discussing the matter we must never forget that it is to Sir Francis
Palgrave, more than to any other scholar, that we owe the assertion of
the great truth, without which all mediæval history is an insoluble
puzzle, that the Roman Empire did not come to an end in the year 476,
but that the Empire and Imperial ideas continued to be the very life of
European politics for ages after. On this head I must refer my readers
to Mr. Bryce’s brilliant Essay on the Holy Roman Empire, where the whole
doctrine is drawn out with wonderful clearness and power. (See also
Historical Essays, First Series, p. 126.) But Sir Francis Palgrave, as
usual, made too much of his theory; his very learning and ingenuity
carried him away. The Imperial doctrine itself, as put forth by him, was
greatly exaggerated, and connecting, as he did, the Bretwaldadom with
the later Imperial style, he was disposed to make as much as possible of
the Bretwaldadom. Mr. Kemble, on the other hand, is equally disposed to
make as little as possible of the Bretwaldadom, and I must say that he
slurs over the question of the Imperial titles in a strange way. In both
parts of the controversy, Sir Francis Palgrave may have given a wrong
explanation; but he has at least given a very elaborate and ingenious
explanation. Mr. Kemble leaves passages which must have some meaning
without any explanation at all. For my own part, I cannot help adding
that, years ago, when I first began these studies, I was altogether
carried away by the fascination of Sir Francis Palgrave’s theories. I
soon saw their exaggerated character, and how utterly unfounded a great
part of them were. I was thus led to go too far the other way, and
altogether to cast aside the notion of any Imperial sovereignty in our
Kings. Later thought and study have at last brought me to an
intermediate position, for which I trust that stronger grounds will be
found than for either of the extremes.
The name _Bretwalda_ comes from the well-known passage in the Chronicles
under the year 827, where it is found only in the Winchester version,
all the others having different spellings, _Brytenwalda_,
_Bretanenwealda_, _Brytenwealda_, _Brytenweald_. The only other place
that I know where any of these forms or anything like them occurs is in
a charter of Æthelstan in 934, in which that King is described (Cod.
Dipl. v. 218) as “Ongol-Saxna cyning and _Brytænwalda eallæs ðyses
iglandæs_;” the Latin equivalent (p. 217) is “Angul-Saxonum necnon et
totius Britanniæ rex, gratia Dei regni solio sublimatus.” Mr. Kemble
(ii. 13, 20) argues that the reading _Bretwalda_ is a false one, and
that the meaning _wielder_, _ruler_, or _Emperor of Britain_, or _of
Britons_, is altogether wrong. He takes the true reading to be
_Brytenwealda_, which he derives from the adjective _bryten_, so as to
mean _wide ruler_, quoting the word _Bryten-cyning_ and other similar
cognates as compound forms. As a piece of Teutonic scholarship Mr.
Kemble is most likely right, but I doubt whether his correction of the
etymology is of much strictly historical importance. When the entry in
the Chronicles was made, the title must have been familiar, and it must
have conveyed some meaning. And the forms _Bretwalda_ and
_Bretanenwealda_ seem clearly to show that those who used those forms
meant them, rightly or wrongly, to mean _wielder of Britain_. In the
charter of Æthelstan again, though the Latin and the English do not
exactly translate one another, I think it is plain that _Britanniæ Rex_
was meant to be the equivalent to _Brytænwalda_. I have therefore no
scruple in keeping to the more usual form and in attaching to it the
commonly received meaning. Less correct as a matter of scholarship, I
conceive it to be more correct as a matter of history.
But the passage in the Chronicles, as is well known, is founded on an
equally well-known passage in Bæda (ii. 5). Bæda there reckons up seven
Kings, Ælle of Sussex, Ceawlin of Wessex, Æthelberht of Kent, Rædwald of
East-Anglia, Eadwine, Oswald, and Oswiu of Northumberland, as having a
supremacy, if not over all Britain, yet at least beyond their own
immediate kingdoms. This supremacy he first calls _Imperium_ and then
_Ducatus_. The latter somewhat lowly form may perhaps be a warning
against attaching any exaggerated importance to the other. The
Chroniclers translate the “Imperium hujusmodi” of Bæda by the words
“_þus micel rice_.” They record Ecgberht’s conquest of Mercia, and say
that “he wæs se eahteþa cyning se þe Bretwalda wæs.” They then give
Bæda’s list of seven, with Ecgberht for the eighth. It is of course an
obvious difficulty that several Kings, especially of Mercia, who seem to
have been at least as powerful as any of those on the list, such as
Penda and Offa, and Æthelbald, whom Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 728 D)
speaks of as “rex regum,” are not found on the list. The writer of the
entry, a subject of Ecgberht or one of his successors, no doubt simply
copied Bæda’s list and added the name of Ecgberht, unwilling perhaps to
record the glories of princes of the rival kingdom. Now this objection
quite upsets the old notion with which Mr. Kemble makes himself so
merry, of a regular Federal monarchy under an elective Emperor or
Bretwalda; nor do I attempt to be wise above what is written or to
define anything with precision as to the nature of a supremacy of which
we have such slight records. Still the passages both in Bæda and the
Chronicles must have a meaning. They show that those seven Kings did
exercise a supremacy of some kind beyond the limits of their own
kingdoms, which supremacy Ecgberht was held to have continued or to have
revived. This supremacy is equally a fact whether those seven princes
bore any special title or not. That the Bretwaldadom of Æthelberht
carried with it some real dominion beyond the limits of Kent is shown by
the ease with which Augustine went and held a synod in a distant part of
England and a part still heathen. (See Bæda, ii. 2.) This could hardly
be except by virtue of a safe conduct from the common over-lord. Indeed
Bæda’s words are explicit—“adjutorio usus Ædilbercti regis.” The
supremacy of Ecgberht needs no comment, and Mr. Kemble himself (ii. 19)
calls attention to the fact that _Ducatus_, one of the words used by
Bæda, is used by Ecgberht himself in three charters (Cod. Dipl. vi. 79,
81, 84), in which Ecgberht dates the year of his _Ducatus_ ten years
later than the beginning of his reign as King, exactly like the years of
the _Regnum_ and the _Imperium_ of the later Emperors.
I believe then there was a real, though not an abiding or a very well
defined, supremacy which was often, perhaps generally, held by some one
of the Teutonic princes of Britain over as many of his neighbours,
Celtic and Teutonic alike, as he could extend it over. I believe that
this fact was remembered in the days of Ecgberht and of Æthelstan, and
that Æthelstan probably looked on himself as the successor of Ceawlin in
his wider no less than in his narrower dominion. What I cannot bring
myself to believe is that Ceawlin looked on himself as the successor of
Maximus and Carausius. Sir Francis Palgrave (i. 398) really seems to
have believed that Ælle the South-Saxon, the first recorded Bretwalda,
was called to the post of Emperor of Britain by the choice of the Welsh
princes. Now it is not easy to see in what Ælle’s Bretwaldadom
consisted. It is possible that the Jutes of Kent, and the settlers who
had already begun to make the east coast of Britain a Teutonic land, may
have invested him with some sort of general leadership for the better
carrying on of the Conquest. It is possible that he may have brought
under tribute some Welsh tribes which he did not root out, and that he
may so far have presented a dim foreshadowing of the glories of
Æthelstan and Eadgar. But the days of the Commendation had not yet come.
It is utterly incredible that Ælle held any authority over any Welsh
tribe, save such as he won and held at the point of the sword. It is
utterly incredible that any Welsh congress ever assembled to make him
Cæsar, Augustus, Tyrant, Bretwalda, or anything else. Cnut and William
indeed were chosen Kings of the English by electors, many of whom must
have shared as unwillingly in their work as any Welsh prince could have
shared in the work of investing Ælle with an Imperial crown. But the
times were utterly different; Cnut and William were not mere destroyers;
they took possession of an established kingdom, and it was not their
policy to destroy or to change one whit more than was absolutely
necessary for their own purposes. But Ælle, who did to Anderida as
Joshua did to Jericho and to Ai, was little likely indeed to receive an
Imperial diadem at the hands of the surviving Gibeonites. The dream of a
transmission of Imperial authority from the vanquished Briton to his
Teutonic conqueror seems to me the vainest of all the dreams which
ingenious men have indulged in.
What then was the Bretwaldadom? As we may fairly assert that the
passages which I have already quoted imply a real supremacy of some
kind, so, on the other hand, we may be equally sure that whatever they
imply was something of purely English growth, something in no way
connected with, or derived from, any older Welsh or Roman dominion.
Nothing is proved by the fact that Æthelberht imitated the coinage of
Carausius and put a wolf and twins on his money. Nothing was more common
than for the Teutonic states everywhere, and for the Saracen states too,
to imitate the coinage which supplied them with their most obvious
models. But on a coin of Carausius the wolf and twins had a most
speaking meaning; on a coin of Æthelberht they had no meaning at all. It
may be that Eadwine assumed some ensigns of dignity in imitation of
Roman pomp; the _tufa_ may have the special meaning attached to it, or
it may not; Eadwine, with the Roman Paulinus at his elbow, might well
indulge in a certain Imperial show, without any need of traditions
handed on from Maximus and Carausius. These are, I believe, the only
attempts at evidence to prove that the Bretwaldadom had a Roman origin;
and they prove about as much as King Ælfred’s notion (see his Laws,
Thorpe, i. 58) that the immemorial Teutonic (or rather Aryan, see Il.
ix. 629) practice of the _wergild_ was introduced by Christian Bishops
in imitation of the mild-heartedness of Christ. The title of Bretwalda,
or Brytenwealda, as borne by Æthelstan, was most likely equivalent to
_Imperator_ or _Basileus_; but if it was used by Ælle or Ceawlin, I
cannot think that it had any such meaning in their day.
It does not however seem that the supremacy of the early Bretwaldas
necessarily reached over the whole of Britain or even over the whole of
the Teutonic kingdoms in Britain. A marked predominance in the island, a
distinct superiority over other states than his own, seems to have been
enough to win for a prince a place on the list as given by Bæda and the
Chronicler, though there might be other states over which his dominion
did not reach. The supremacy of Ælle, and even that of Ceawlin, must
have been very far from reaching over all Britain. The supremacy of
Æthelberht is expressly limited by Bæda (ii. 5) to the English states
south of the Humber; “Tertius in regibus gentis Anglorum cunctis
australibus eorum provinciis quæ Humbræ fluvio et contiguis ei terminis
sequestrantur a borealibus, _imperavit_.” This excludes all the Celts
and also the Northumbrians. And it is worth noting that at least this
same extent of dominion is elsewhere (v. 23) attributed by Bæda to
Æthelbald of Mercia, whose name does not appear on his list; “Hæ omnes
provinciæ [all England east of Severn and Hereford west of it] cæteræque
australes ad confinium usque Hymbræ fluminis, cum suis quæque regibus,
Merciorum regi Ædilbaldo subjectæ sunt.” On the other hand, the dominion
of Eadwine is distinctly said not to have taken in Kent, and it seems
implied that it did not take in the Picts and Scots; “Aeduini ... majore
potentia cunctis qui Brittaniam incolunt, Anglorum pariter et Brettonum
populis præfuit, præter Cantuariis tantum.” Sir Francis Palgrave indeed
(ii. cccix.) attributes to Eadwine a dominion over the Picts and Scots.
The words of Bæda however seem to me to exclude it; I understand him as
attributing to Eadwine a dominion over the Britons only, that is the
Welsh (probably of Strathclyde), as distinguished from the Picts and
Scots. And the words which follow might seem to imply that Oswiu was the
first to extend the power of Northumberland beyond the Forth. After
describing the dominion of Eadwine he adds, “Sextus Oswald et ipse
Nordanhymbrorum rex Christianissimus, iisdem finibus regnum tenuit;
septimus Osuiu frater ejus, æqualibus pene terminis regnum nonnullo
tempore coercens, Pictorum quoque atque Scottorum gentes, quæ
septemtrionales Brittaniæ fines tenent, maxima ex parte perdomuit ac
tributarias fecit.” So afterwards (iii. 24), “Osuiu ... qui gentem
Pictorum maxima ex parte regno Anglorum subjecit.” Yet elsewhere (iii.
6) he attributes to Oswald also a dominion over Picts and Scots;
“Denique omnes nationes et provincias Brittaniæ, quæ in quatuor linguas,
id est Brettonum, Pictorum, Scottorum, et Anglorum, divisæ sunt, in
ditione accepit.” It should be remembered that there was a family
connexion between the Pictish royal family and that of Bernicia, and the
words just quoted might imply a voluntary acceptance of Oswald on the
part of the northern tribes. The peculiarity of Ecgberht’s position was
that he had received a formal submission from all the English princes in
Britain, and that he was able to do what no other Bretwalda had done, to
hand on his power to his children. This dominion Eadward and Æthelstan
won back and strengthened after the Danish invasion, and extended it
over Scotland and Strathclyde. Now begins the use of the Imperial style,
and I accordingly go on to give some examples of the various titles
assumed by our Kings from Æthelstan to Cnut. One such instance, that in
which Æthelstan uses the title of “Brytenwealda,” I have already quoted
(see above, p. 367). Among the others I select such as either illustrate
the use of the Latin Imperial titles, or which distinctly claim a
dominion beyond the English kingdom, or which are remarkable on some
other ground. I shall abstain from quoting those which present nothing
beyond the mere use of the word _Basileus_, which is almost as common as
_Rex_. Those which are found in charters marked by Mr. Kemble with an
asterisk I mark with an asterisk also.
1. Ego Æðelstanus rex Anglorum per omnipatrantis dexteram totius
Britaniæ regni solio sublimatus. Cod. Dipl. ii. 159; cf. v. 193.
*2. Quinto anno ex quo nobilissime gloriosus Rex Anglo-saxones regaliter
gubernabat, tertioque postquam authentice Northanhumbrorum Cumbrorumque
blanda mirifici conditoris benevolentia patrocinando sceptrinæ
gubernaculum perceperat virgæ, ii. 160.
Ego Æþelstan rex et rector totius Britanniæ cæterarumque Deo concedente
gubernator provinciarum. ii. 161; cf. v. 215.
*3. Ego Æðelstanus ipsius [altitonantis sc.] munificentia Basileus
Anglorum, simul et _Imperator regum_ et nationum infra fines Brittanniæ
commorantium. ii. 164.
*4. Ego Æðelstanus divinæ dispensationis providentia tam super
Britannicæ gentis quam super aliarum nationum huic subditarum _imperium_
elevatus Rex. ii. 167.
5. Ego Æðelstanus florentis Brytaniæ _monarchia_ præditus rex. ii. 173.
6. Ego Æðelstanus rex _monarchus_ totius Bryttanniæ insulæ, flante
Domino. ii. 204.
7. Ego Æþelstanus divina mihi adridente gratia rex Anglorum et
_curagulus_ totius Bryttanniæ. ii. 215.
8. Ego Æðelstanus Angulsaxonum rex non modica infulatus sublimatus
dignitate. v. 187.
9. Ego Æðelstan, Christo conferente rex et primicerius totius Albionis,
regni fastigium humili præsidens animo. v. 201, 204.
10. Ego Æðelstanus, omnicreantis disponente clementia Angligenarum
omniumque gentium undique secus habitantium rex. v. 214.
11. Ego Æðelstanus ... favente superno numine Basileus industrius
Anglorum cunctarumque gentium in circuitu persistentium. v. 229.
12. Æðelstanus, divina favente clementia, rex Anglorum et _æque totius
Britanniæ orbis curagulus_. v. 231.
*13. Ego Eadmundus divina favente gratia Basyleos Anglorum cæterarumque
provinciarum in circuitu persistentium primatum regalis regiminis
obtinens. ii. 220.
14. Ego Eadmundus rex Anglorum necnon et Merciorum. ii. 265.
15. Eadmundi regis qui regimina regnorum Angulsaxna et Norðhymbra,
Paganorum Brettonumque septem annorum intervallo regaliter gubernabat.
ii. 268.
16. Hoc apparet proculdubio in rege Anglorum gloriosissimo beato Dei
opere pretio Eadredo, quem Norðhymbra Paganorumque ceu cæterarum sceptro
provinciarum rex regum Omnipotens sublimavit, quique præfatus
_Imperator_ semper Deo grates dignissimas largâ manu subministrat. ii.
292.
17. Ego Eadred rex divina gratia totius Albionis monarchus et
primicerius. ii. 294.
18. Eadredus rex Anglorum, gloriosissimus rectorque, Norþanhymbra et
Paganorum _Imperator_, Brittonumque propugnator, ii. 296.
19. En onomatos cyrion doxa. Al wísdóm ge for Gode ge for werolde is
gestaðelad on ðæm hefonlícan goldhorde almæhtiges Godes per Jesum
Christum, cooperante gratiâ Spiritûs Sancti. He hafað geweorðad mid
cynedóme Angulseaxna Eádred _cyning and cásere totius Britanniæ_ Deo
gratias· for ðem weolegað and árað gehádade and lǽwede ða ðe mid rihte
magon geærnian. &c., &c. ii. 303.
20. Ego Eadredus Basileos Anglorum hujusque insulæ barbarorum. ii. 305.
21. Ego Eadred gratia Dei Occidentalium Saxonum rex. v. 323.
22. Ego Eadwig industrius Anglorum rex cæterarumque gentium in circuitu
persistentium gubernator et rector, primo anno _imperii_ mei. ii. 308;
cf. 329, 348.
23. Ego Eadwig divina dispositione gentis Angligenæ et diversarum
nationum industrius rex. ii. 316.
24. Ego Eadwig egregius Angulsaxonum Basileus cæterarumque plebium hinc
inde habitantium. ii. 318; cf. v. 344, 354.
25. Ego Eadwig totius Albionis insulæ illustrissimus _archons_. ii. 323;
cf. iii. 24.
26. Eadwig numine cœlesti gentis Gewissorum, Orientaliumque necnon
Occidentalium etiam Aquilonalium Saxonum archons. ii. 324; cf. v. 349.
27. Eadwi Rex, nutu Dei Angulsæxna et Norðanhumbrorum _Imperator_,
Paganorum gubernator, Breotonumque propugnator, ii. 325.
*28. Anno secundo _imperii_ Eadwiges totius Albionis insulæ
_imperantis_. ii. 341.
29. Ego Eadwi rex omnium gentium huic insulæ cohærentium. v. 341.
30. Ego Eadwig non solum Angul-Saxonum Basileus, verum etiam totius
Albionis insulæ gratia Dei sceptro fungens, v. 361.
31. Ego Eadwig _imperiali_ Anglo-Saxonum diademate infulatus, v. 379.
32. Ego Eadwig rex Saxonum. v. 395.
33. Ego Eadgar Britanniæ Anglorum _monarchus_. ii. 374.
*34. Ego Eadgarus Anglorum Basileus, omniumque regum insularum oceani
quæ Britanniam circumjacent, cunctarumque nationum quæ infra eum
includuntur _Imperator_ et dominus ... _monarchiam_ totius Angliæ ...
Anglorum _imperio_ ... Ego Eadgar Basileus Anglorum et Imperator regum
gentium. ii. 404–6.
35. Ic Eádgár cyning éac þurh his [Godes] gife ofer Engla þeóde nú úp
árǽred, and he hæfð nú gewẏld tó minum anwealde Scottas and Cumbras and
éac swylce Bryttas and eal ðǽt ðis igland him on innan hæfd. iii. 59.
36. Ego Eadgar divina allubescente gratia totius Albionis _Imperator
Augustus_. iii. 64.
*37. Signum Eadgari et serenissimi Anglorum _Imperatoris_. iii. 109.
38. Ego Eadgar gratia Dei rex Merciorum cæterarumque circumquaque
nationum. vi. 3.
39. Ego Eadgarus gentis Anglorum et barbarorum atque gentilium Rex ac
prædux. vi. 69.
*40. Ego Æðelred Dei gratia Anglorum rex _imperiosus_. iii. 204.
*41. Ego Æðelredus famosus totius Brittannicæ insulæ _Imperator_. iii.
251.
42. Ego Æðelredus totius Albionis Dei providentia _Imperator_. iii. 290.
43. Ego Æþelred rex totius insulæ. Ego Æþelred rex et rector angul
sexna. iii. 316, 317.
44. Ego Æðelred gentis gubernator Angligenæ totiusque insulæ corregulus
Britannicæ et cæterarum insularum in circuitu adjacentium. iii. 323.
45. Ego Æðelredus ipsius [celsitonantis Dei] opitulante gratia
Brittaniarum Rex. iii. 337.
*46. Ego Æðelredus Anglorum _Induperator_.
Ic Æðelred mid Godes gyfe Angelþeóde cyning and wealdend eác óðra
iglanda ðe hér ábútan licgað. iii. 348.
*47. Ego gratia summi Tonantis Angligenûm, Orcadarum, necne in gyro
jacentium _monarchus_ Æðelredus. iii. 346.
*48. Ego Æðelredus totius Britanniæ _Induperator_. iii. 355.
49. Prædicta _Augusta_ [Ælgifu-Emma]. iii. 358.
*50. Æðelred rex Anglo-Saxoniæ atque Norðhymbrensis gubernator
_monarchiæ_, paganorumque propugnator, ac Bretonum cæterarumque
provinciarum _Imperator_. vi. 166.
51. Æðelredus, gratia Dei sublimatus rex et _monarchus_ totius Albionis.
vi. 167.
52. Ego Cnut totius Britanniæ _monarchus_. vi. 179.
53. Ego _Imperator_ Knuto, a Christo Rege regum regiminis Anglici in
insula potitus. iv. 1.
54. Ego Knut telluris Britanniæ totius largiflua Dei gratia subpetente
subthronizatus rex ac rector. iv. 7.
55. Ego Cnut _Basileon Angelsaxonum_ disponente clementia creantis. iv.
18.
*56. Ic Cnut þurh Godes geve Ænglelandes kining and ealre ðáre eglande
ðe ðǽrtó licgeð. iv. 23.
57. Ego Cnut rex totius Albionis cæterarumque gentium triviatim
persistentium Basileus. iv. 35.
58. Ego Cnut, misericordia Dei Basileus, omnis Britaniæ regimen adeptus.
iv. 45.
Of these forms, Nos. 10, 11, 13 are used over and over again with
various slight changes. The forms “totius Britanniæ” or “Albionis rex”
or “Basileus” occur constantly. They are distinctly more common than the
simple “Anglorum rex.” “Anglorum Basileus” and forms to the like effect
are also common. In fact a charter which does not in one way or the
other assert a dominion beyond the simple royalty of the English nation
is rather the exception. On the other hand we now and then, as in Nos.
21, 32, come upon forms which are startling from their very simplicity.
No. 32, I suppose, belongs to the days when Eadwig was reduced to the
kingdom of Wessex. Meanwhile Eadgar in his Mercian charter, No. 38,
seems to claim, what doubtless was the case, the external dominion of
the crown as belonging to himself rather than to his West-Saxon brother.
Nos. 14, 15, 16, 18, 27, 50 are remarkable for the use of the word
“Angli” and “Angulseaxe” in a sense excluding Northumberland. In No. 14
indeed “Angli” excludes the Mercians. It might be almost rendered
“Saxons.” So completely had “Anglus” become the national name, even in
the most purely Saxon parts of the country.
Some of these titles call for some special notice. _Brytenwealda_ I have
already spoken of. No. 19 is remarkable as the only one in which the
title of _Cæsar_ occurs in any shape. _Casere_ is the regular English
description of the continental Emperors, but I know no other instance of
its application to an English King. (Perhaps the most striking instance
of its use is where Alfred in his Boetius calls Odysseus “án _cyning_
þæs nama Aulixes, se hæfde twa þioda under þam _kasere_ ... and þæs
kaseres nama wæs Agamemnon.”) This solitary English use of the word is a
remarkable contrast to the fact that _Kaiser_ altogether displaced
_König_ as the title of the German sovereign. In fact none of these
titles ever came into common use, even in Latin, much less in English.
_Basileus_, so common in charters, is very rare anywhere else. It occurs
twice in Florence, once (975) where Eadgar is called “Anglici orbis
Basileus,” and again (1016) where Eadric at Sherstone is made to talk of
“dominus vester Eadmundus _Basileus_;” and once in the Ramsey History,
c. 87, where the writer speaks of “Ædgari victoriosissimi Anglorum
_Basilei_ munificentia regalis.” _Imperator_, less rare than _Cæsar_, is
less usual than _Basileus_. _Prædux_ in No. 39 reminds one of the
_ducatus_ of Bæda and of Ecgberht’s charters (see above, p. 551). The
oddest titles of all are _Primicerius_ and _Curagulus_ or _Coregulus_.
Probably _Curagulus_ means _caretaker_, but with the idea of _Rex_ or
_Regulus_ floating in the mind of the scribe, which accounts for the
spelling _Coregulus_. I am uncertain whether the words _monarchus_,
_monarchia_, are to be reckoned as strictly Imperial. They are so used
by Dante in his famous treatise “De Monarchia;” but it is clear that
they have no such special meaning in the rhetoric of Dudo. They may have
been used with equal vagueness in the kindred rhetoric of our charters.
Thus for instance in a doubtful grant of Eadgar, dated 958, in
possession of the Chapter of Wells, Eadgar is made to call himself “Rex
Merciorum et Norðanhymbrorum atque Brettonum;” and afterwards, “divina
favente gratia totius regni Merciorum monarchiam obtinens.”
That of these titles _Casere_, _Basileus_, and _Imperator_ are meant to
be Imperial in the strictest sense I have no doubt. If the title of
_Basileus_ stood alone, it might possibly be merely an instance of the
prevalent fondness for Greek titles; the King might be called _Basileus_
only in the same vague way in which his Ealdormen are called _satrapæ_
and _archontes_. Yet even this would be unlikely; _satrapa_ and _archon_
were not established titles, assumed by a single potentate in a special
sense, and which the diplomacy of the age confined to that potentate.
But _Basileus_ was simply Greek for _Imperator_. To be addressed as
_Imperator_ and _Basileus_ by the ambassadors of Nikêphoros (Einhard,
an. 812. “Laudes et dixerunt, Imperatorem eum et Basileum appellantes”)
is reckoned among the most brilliant triumphs of Charles the Great. It
was the formal acknowledgment of the claims of the Western Cæsar at the
hands of his Eastern colleague or rival. So, later in the ninth century,
the title of _Basileus_ became the subject of a curious diplomatic
controversy between the rival claimants of the dignity which it denoted,
Basil of the New, and Lewis of the Old, Rome, and the Western disputant
went very deep into the matter indeed. (See the letter of Lewis,
“Imperator Augustus Romanorum,” to Basil, “æque Imperator Novæ Romæ,” in
the Chronicle of Salerno, cap. 93 et seqq.; Muratori, t. ii. p. ii. p.
243. See Comparative Politics, 49, 353.) So Liudprand (Legatio, c. 2)
complains that the Nikêphoros of his day refused the title to Otto;
“Ipse enim vos non _Imperatorem_, id est βασιλέα sua lingua, sed ob
indignationem ῥῆγα, id est _Regem_ nostra vocabat.” So late as John
Kinnamos, lib. v. 9 (pp. 228, 229, ed. Bonn), Frederick Barbarossa is
only ῥὴξ Ἀλαμανῶν; the Eastern Emperor alone is βασιλεύς and αὐτοκράτωρ.
That the titles _Casere_ and _Imperator_ are strictly Imperial hardly
needs proof; the only question is whether we are to look for a strictly
Imperial meaning in every instance of the use of the noun _imperium_ and
the verb _imperare_.
The use of _Basileus_ seems more common in England than anywhere else;
yet we find it in Abbo (i. 43) of Charles the Third;
“Urbs mandata fuit Karolo nobis Basileo,
Imperio cujus regitur totus prope kosmus,
Post Dominum, regem dominatoremque potentem.”
_Imperator_ (see Ducange, in voc.) seems to have been used by several
Kings of Castile, on precisely the same ground on which it was used in
England, namely that they were Emperors, independent of Rome or
Byzantium, but holding an Imperial power over princes within their own
peninsula. So Robert de Monte, 1153 (Pertz, vi. 503), “Quia principatur
regulis Arragonum et Galliciæ, Imperatorem Hispaniarum appellant.” The
West-Frankish and French instances which Ducange quotes seem very
doubtful. Charles the Bald, it must be remembered, really was Emperor in
his last years. The oddest thing of all is the fact that the Saxon Kings
Henry and Otto were saluted _Imperator_ by their soldiers in the sense
of the days of the Roman Republic. See Widukind, i. 39; iii. 49. Henry
was “pater patriæ, rerum dominus et Imperator ab exercitu appellatus;”
Otto “triumpho celebri rex factus gloriosus, ab exercitu pater patriæ
Imperatorque appellatus est.” (See p. 143.) In this sense not only
Cæsar, but Cicero also was Emperor. Perhaps the strangest description of
all is that of Charles the Fat in Will. Malms. ii. 111, “Ego Karolus
imperator, gratuito Dei dono rex Germanorum et patricius Romanorum,
atque imperator Francorum.”
It is worth noticing that, though some of the most distinctly Imperial
descriptions are found in charters whose genuineness is undoubted, yet
the proportion of them which are found in doubtful or spurious charters
is remarkably large. This fact in no way tells against the Imperial
theory, but rather in its favour. A forger will naturally reproduce
whatever he thinks most characteristic of the class of documents which
he is imitating; but, in so doing, he is likely somewhat to overdo
matters. A forger, thus attempting to copy the style of a charter of
Eadgar or Æthelred, perhaps actually reproducing a genuine charter from
memory, would naturally fill his composition with the most high-sounding
of all the titles that he had ever seen in any genuine charter. The most
purely Imperial style would thus find its way into forgeries in greater
abundance than into genuine charters. Still the spurious documents are,
in this way, evidence just as much as the genuine ones. The doubtful and
spurious charters have therefore a certain value; their formulæ are part
of the case, and I have not scrupled to add them to my list.
With regard to the assertion of the Imperial character of English
royalty in later times, the doubtful title of “monarcha” or “monarches”
still goes on. Thus in the charter of William Rufus to John of Tours,
preserved in manuscript at Wells, the King is described as “Willelmus
Willelmi regis filius, Dei dispositione monarches Britanniæ.” So, long
after, in a letter from Henry the Sixth to James the Second of Scotland
(correspondence of Thomas Bekynton, ii. 141), the English King is made
to say, “verum et notorium est supremum jus et directum dominium regni
Scotiæ ad regem Angliæ utpote totius Britanniæ monarcham de jure
pertinere.” So in i. 119 of the same collection, where Henry the Sixth
petitions Pope Eugenius the Fourth for the canonization of Ælfred, the
West-Saxon King is described as “Sanctus et Deo devotissimus rex
Aluredus, qui incliti regni Angliæ primus monarcha erat.” It was also
held necessary at various times to deny any superiority of the
continental Emperors over England. Thus it was declared in Edward the
Second’s reign (1330), “Quod regnum Angliæ ab omni subjectione Imperiali
sit liberrimum” (Selden, Titles of Honour, p. 21. b. i. c. 2). And in
1416 a renunciation of all supremacy was required from Sigismund, King
of the Romans, before he was allowed to land in England (see Selden,
u. s.; Lingard, iii. 505; Bryce, 207. But the account in Redman, p. 49,
and Elmham, Liber. Metr. p. 133, is much less explicit). So late as
Elizabeth’s reign, Sir Thomas Smith, in his Commonwealth of England
(10), describing the union of the English kingdoms into one, goes on to
explain that “neither anyone of those Kings, neither he who first had
all, tooke any investiture at the hands of the Emperor of Rome, or of
any other superiour or forraine Prince, but held of God to himselfe, and
by his sword, his people, and crowne, acknowledging no Prince in earth
his superiour, and so it is kept and holden at this day.” But beside
this denial of all Imperial supremacy anywhere else, we also find the
Imperial character of our sovereigns from Edward the First to Elizabeth
from time to time directly asserted. Thus there are two cases in which
the title of Emperor is given to Edward the First, in both cases with
distinct reference to his supremacy over Scotland. The elder Robert
Bruce (Palgrave, Documents, p. 29) claimed the kingdom from Edward the
First as _Emperor_. “Sire Robert de Brus ... prie a nostre Seignur le
Rey, come son sovereyn Seigneur e _son Empeur_.” So when the question is
raised whether the controversy between the candidates for the Scottish
crown should be judged by the Imperial law or by any other, one of the
Prelates consulted (“episcopus Bibliensis,” perhaps a Bishop of Byblos
_in partibus_) answers that the King of England must follow the law of
his own realm because “he is Emperor here” (Rishanger, Riley, p. 255).
“Dixit quod dominus rex secundum leges per quas judicat subjectos suos
debet procedere in casu isto, _quia hic censetur Imperator_.” So
Professor Stubbs (Const. Hist. ii. 491) quotes a statute of 1397 in
which Richard the Second is described as “entier emperour de son
roialme.” The title is also challenged for Henry the Fifth in a
negociation at the siege of Rouen. In the riming Chronicle of John Page
(Historical Collections of a Citizen of London, Camden Society, 1876) an
English knight is made to say of his own King,
“And he ys kyng excellent,
And unto non othyr obedyent,
That levythe here in erthe be ryght,
But only unto God almyght,
With-yn hys owne Emperoure,
And also kyng and conqueroure.”
In Henry the Eighth’s time the words “Empire” and “Imperial Crown” are
constantly used in a way which cannot fail to be of set purpose. The
Statute of Appeals of 1537, in renouncing all jurisdiction on the part
of the Roman Pontiff, clothed the renunciation in words whose force can
hardly be misunderstood, and which seem designed expressly to exclude
the supremacy of the Roman Cæsar as well. The emphatic words run thus;
“Whereas by divers and sundry old authentic histories and chronicles, it
is manifestly declared and expressed that this realm of England _is an
Empire_, and so hath been accepted in the world; governed by one supreme
head and King, having the dignity and royal estate of _the Imperial
Crown_ of the same ... without restraint, or provocation to _any foreign
prince or potentate of the world_.” So again, “to keep it from the
annoyance as well of the See of Rome _as from the authority of other
foreign potentates_ attempting the diminution or violation thereof”
(Selden, p. 18; Froude, Hist. Eng. i. 410–412). In an Irish Act of the
same reign a further step is taken, and the King is distinctly spoken of
as Emperor. As Selden (u. s.) puts it, “The Crown of England in other
Parliaments of later times is titled the Imperial Crown; the Kings of
England being also in the express words of an Irish Parliament titled
_Kings and Emperours of the Realm of England and of the Land of
Ireland_, and that before the title of Lord of Ireland was allied with
King.” As for Elizabeth, at her coronation her herald formally
proclaimed her as “most worthy Empress from the Orcade isles to the
mountains Pyrenee.” (See Strickland’s Life of Elizabeth, p. 166, where a
very strange interpretation is put on the words.) “The mountains
Pyrenee” are a flourish which seems to have come from the days of Henry
the Second, when Gilbert Foliot (Ralph of Diss, X Scriptt. 542) speaks
of “dominationis suæ loca quæ ab boreali oceano Pirenæum usque porrecta
sunt.” (So William of Newburgh, i. 94.) And the special mention of the
“Orcade isles” might seem to come out of a charter of Æthelred (Cod.
Dipl. iii. 346); “Angligenum, Orcadarum necne in gyro jacentium
monarchus.” So in 1559, in the debate on restoring to the Crown the
ecclesiastical jurisdiction surrendered under Mary, those who opposed
Elizabeth’s spiritual claims still pointedly admitted her Imperial
position in temporal matters. Archbishop Heath says, “She being our
Sovereign Lord and Lady, our King and Queen, our Emperor and Empress,
other Kings and Princes of duty ought to pay tribute unto her, she being
free from them all” (Strype’s Annals, I. Append. No. 6). And in the
first English translation of Camden’s Britannia (London, 1625), the
title of the book is given as “The true and Royall history of the famous
Empresse Elizabeth, Queen of England.”
Lastly, a pamphlet was published in 1706, when the Union with Scotland
was under debate, headed, “The Queen an Empress, and her three kingdoms
an Empire,” proposing a curious scheme for a British Empire, with
subordinate Kings, Princes, and a Patriarch of London. It is of course
an imitation of the constitution of _the_ Empire, but the writer refers
once or twice to the days of Eadgar for precedents.
The Imperial position of the English King seemed naturally (see p. 134)
to carry with it the Papal position of the English Primate. Britain is
another world, a world beyond the sea, distinct from the “orbis
Romanus.” On this head I have collected a good many extracts in
Comparative Politics, 351. So Eumenius Constantio, Pan. Vet. v. 11;
“Quam Cæsar, ille auctor vestri nominis, eum Romanorum primus intrasset,
alium se orbem terrarum scripsit reperisse, tantæ magnitudinis
arbitratus, ut non circumfusa oceano sed complexa ipsum oceanum
videretur.” (Cf. R. de Diceto, i. 438, ed. Stubbs.) As another world
then, Britain is entitled to its own Cæsar, “mundi dominus” within his
own four seas, and no less to its own Pontiff. As Florence (see above,
p. 559) calls Eadgar “Anglici _orbis_ Basileus,” and as in No. 12 of our
extracts we heard of “totius Britanniæ orbis,” evidently in this sense,
so Pope Urban (Eadmer, Vit. Ans. ii. c. 4) salutes Anselm with an
analogous title, as “comparem vel ut _alterius orbis apostolicum_ et
patriarcham jure venerandum,” or as William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont.
ap. Scriptt. p. Bed. 127) puts it still more strongly, “Includamus hunc
in orbe nostro, quasi _alterius orbis papam_.” The same idea, one degree
less strongly expressed, is found in William of Jumièges’ (vi. 9)
description of Lanfranc as “gentium transmarinarum summus pontifex.”
This of course connects itself with the not uncommon description of
England and the English King as “partes transmarinæ,” “rex
transmarinus,” &c. See for instance Flodoard, A. 945. So, on the other
side, in the Fulda Annals, 876 (Pertz, i. 389), “Karolus ... ablato
regis nomine, se Imperatorem et Augustum _omnium regem_ cis mare
consistentium appellare præcepit.”
I have thus, I trust, brought together quite evidence enough to show
what was the meaning and purpose of the Imperial style which was
anciently adopted by our Kings, and distinct traces of which still
survive in more than one familiar expression to this day. I do not doubt
that other scholars, in their several lines of study, must often light
on other passages bearing on the subject. I will wind up with one more,
not the least remarkable of the number, that in which Abbot Baldric, the
poetical panegyrist of the great men of his day, describes (Duchesne,
Rer. Franc. Scriptt. iv. 257) the great William as one
“Qui dux Normannis, qui Cæsar præfuit Anglis.”
NOTE C. p. 30.
THE EARLY RELATIONS BETWEEN ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT.
The notices of Britain between the time of the English Conquest and the
conversion of the English to Christianity are indeed few and far
between. They are chiefly to be found in an episode of Prokopios (Bell.
Goth. iv. 20), from which I have made two quotations in the text (pp.
22, 30). That the Brittia of Prokopios is Britain, and not, as Dr.
Latham (Dict. Geog., art. Britannicæ Insulæ) fancies, Heligoland, Rugen,
or some other island, I have no kind of doubt, and Mr. Kemble seems not
to have entertained any. The difficulty is what his Brettania is. It
strikes me that he had heard both of the continental and the insular
_Britannia_, and that he fancied them to be two islands. His Brittia
therefore is Britain and his Brettania is Britanny. (Cf. Zeuss, _Die
Deutschen_, 362; “Βριττία, Britannia, und Βριταννία, Hibernia,
wahrscheinlich durch Vermengung mit Britannia cismarina, Bretagne.”)
John Kinnamos (ii. 12, p. 67 ed. Bonn), ranks Βρίττιοι καὶ Βρετανοί
among the Crusaders. Allowing for the primary error of fancying Britanny
to be an island, his geographical description is really not so monstrous
as might be thought. His well-known story about the souls of the dead
being ferried over to Brittia, and his confused and marvellous account
of the Roman wall, show how strange and mysterious a land Britain had
already become. But the two passages which I have quoted are distinct
and intelligible. For an island inhabited by Angles, Frisians, and
Britons we need not go far afield.
Prokopios tells us nothing of the process by which these three nations
came into the island. There is, as far as I know, only one foreign
notice of the English Conquest, which is however probably contemporary
with one stage or another of it. This is in the Chronicon Imperiale of
Prosper (see Dict. Biog. and Potthast’s _Wegweiser_ in Prosper), written
either in the fifth or in the sixth century. Here we have two entries
(Duchesne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt. i. 198, 199; M. H. B. lxxxii.); the
former saying that “hac tempestate [the time of Constantine the Tyrant,
407–411; cf. Zôsimos, vi. 5], præ valitudine Romanorum, vires funditus
attenuatæ Britanniæ.” The other says that, some time before the death of
Aëtius in 454, “Britanniæ usque ad hoc tempus variis cladibus
eventibusque laceratæ, in ditionem Saxonum rediguntur.” I am however not
sure that Prokopios has not a dark and confused allusion to the
Armorican migration when he speaks of vast numbers of people coming from
Britain to settle in the land of the Franks, on the strength of which it
was that the Frankish Kings claimed the dominion of the island (τοσαύτη
ἡ τῶνδε τῶν ἐθνῶν πολυανθρωπία φαίνεται οὖσα ὥστε ἀνὰ πᾶν ἔτος κατὰ
πολλοὺς ἐνθένδε μετανιστάμενοι ξὺν γυναιξὶ καὶ παισὶν ἐς Φράγγους
χωροῦσιν. οἱ δὲ αὐτοὺς ἐνοικίζουσιν ἐν γῆς τῆς σφετέρας τὴν ἐρημοτέραν
δοκοῦσαν εἶναι, καὶ ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ τὴν νῆσον προσποιεῖσθαί φασιν). In an
earlier passage Prokopios makes Belisarios (ii. 6) make the Goths the
offer of Bretannia as an island much larger than Sicily. This is
evidently in mockery, and it seems to imply that both Britain and
Britanny were looked on as lands which had quite passed out of all
practical reckoning on the part of the Empire.
Prokopios goes on, in the same chapter, to tell a long story, which is
discussed by Mr. Kemble (Saxons in England, i. 23; cf. Zeuss, Die
Deutschen, 362), of an English princess (παρθένου κόρης, γένους Βριττίας
... ἧσπερ ἀδελφὸς βασιλεὺς ἦν τότε Ἀγγίλων τοῦ ἔθνους), who was
betrothed to Radiger, son of the King of the Varni, who, on his father’s
death, instead of fulfilling his engagement, married his father’s widow,
a sister of Theodberht, King of the Franks, who reigned from 534 to 537.
The incestuous marriage, which was repeated in after days by Eadbald of
Kent and Æthelbald of Wessex, is expressly said to have been contracted
in obedience to the dying commands of Radiger’s father (cf. Soph. Trach.
1199–1207), by the advice of his chief men, and in conformity with the
custom of the nation (καθάπερ ὁ πάτριος ἡμῖν ἐφίησι νόμος). The English
princess however gathers a vast fleet and army, takes with her one of
her brothers, not the King, as its commander, sails to the mouth of the
Rhine, fights a battle, defeats Radiger, and compels him to send away
his step-mother and marry her. The tale, which is told in great detail,
is doubtless mythical in its details; but we may, with Mr. Kemble,
accept it as pointing to the possibility of some intercourse, both
peaceful and warlike, between the insular and the continental Teutons.
But I cannot follow Mr. Kemble when he goes on (i. 25) to build up, on
the expressions of a German ecclesiastical writer, a theory of insular
Saxons aiding the Frank Theodoric in a war with the Thuringians. The
author of the Translation of Saint Alexander (Pertz, ii. 674) is not
speaking of any particular detachment of Saxons from Britain coming over
to Germany to take a part in a particular war. By a strange perversion,
this writer of the ninth century derives the continental Saxons, as a
nation, from the English in Britain; “Saxonum gens, sicut tradit
antiquitas, ab Anglis Britanniæ incolis egressa, per Oceanum navigans
Germaniæ litoribus studio et necessitate quærendarum sedium appulsa
est.” On this the editor remarks, “More solito traditio res gestas
invertit, ita ut Saxones non e Saxonia Britanniam, sed ex Britannia
Saxoniam appulisse dicantur.” The legend is no doubt a corruption of the
legendary origin of the Saxons given by Widukind, i. 3–6. On the sense
in which the English had a better right to the name of “Old-Saxons” than
the Saxons on the continent, see Zeuss, Die Deutschen, 188.
It is worth remarking that Jordanes, though he devotes his second
chapter to a description of Britain, simply gives an account patched up
from Cæsar, Livy, Strabo, and Dio, and seems to describe the Britons as
still the inhabitants of the island, without any reference to the
settlement of the English. He makes another reference to Britain in his
fifth chapter, but it is of a purely mythical kind.
I doubt whether there is any mention of England in Gregory of Tours,
except in the two passages where he records the marriage of Æthelberht
with the daughter of Chariberht. He does not use the words Saxon, Angle,
or Britain, but he speaks of Kent as if the name were familiarly known.
“Charibertus ... filiam habuit quæ postea in Cantiam, virum accipiens,
est deducta” (iv. 26). So afterwards (ix. 26) he speaks of “filiam
unicam quam in Cantia regis cujusdam filius matrimonio copulavit.”
Coming down later among continental writers, there is a well known
passage in the Annals of Einhard (A. 786) in which he speaks of the
English Conquest and of the Armorican migration as its consequence.
Charles leads his army “in Brittanniam cismarinam,” and the Annalist
goes on to explain; “Nam quum ab Anglis ac Saxonibus Brittannia insula
fuisset invasa, magna pars incolarum ejus mare trajiciens in ultimis
Galliæ finibus Venetorum et Coriosolitarum regiones occupavit.” There is
another mention of the Armorican migration in Ermoldus Nigellus, iii. 11
(Pertz, ii. 490). Lantpreht (Lambert), whose command lies in Britanny,
is thus described;
“Prævidet hic fines, quos olim gens inimica
Trans mare lintre volans ceperat insidiis.
Hic populus veniens supremo ex orbe Britanni,
Quos modo Brittones Francica lingua vocat.
Nam telluris egens, vento jactatus et imbri,
Arva capit prorsus, atque tributa parat.
Tempore nempe illo hoc rus quoque Gallus habebat,
Quando idem populus fluctibus actus adest.”
On the whole it would seem that a certain amount of intercourse was kept
up between the Franks in Gaul and the Southern English states, but that
to the world in general Britain had become an unknown land about which
any fables might be put forth.
NOTE D. p. 38.
THE RELATIONS OF CHARLES THE GREAT WITH MERCIA AND NORTHUMBERLAND.
All the passages bearing on the relations of Charles the Great with
Mercia, Northumberland, and Scotland are collected by Sir Francis
Palgrave, English Commonwealth, i. 484 et seqq. The cream of the matter
is contained in the account given by Einhard, A. 808; “Interea rex
Nordanhumbrorum de Brittania insula, nomine Eardulf, regno et patria
pulsus, ad Imperatorem dum adhuc Noviomagi moraretur venit, et patefacto
adventûs sui negotio, Romam proficiscitur Romaque rediens, per legatos
Romani pontificis et domni Imperatoris in regnum suum reducitur.” One of
the legates was “Aldulfus diaconus de ipsa Brittania, natione Saxo,”
spoken of in p. 534. That Eardwulf became the man of Charles there seems
no doubt. Pope Leo says “vester semper fidelis exstitit.” The submission
of the Scots is also mentioned by Einhard in the Life of Charles, c. 16;
“Scotorum quoque reges sic habuit ad suam voluntatem per munificentiam
inclinatos, ut eum numquam aliter nisi _dominum_, seque _subditos et
servos ejus_, pronunciarent.” One would suppose that the Scots both of
Ireland and of Britain are included. This mention of the Scots comes
between the dealings of Charles with Alfonso of Gallicia and those with
Haroun al Rashid. The relation both of the Scots and of the
Northumbrians seems to have been a relation of _commendation_, a term on
which I shall presently have much to say. The Scots doing homage to
Charles on account of his gifts is not unlike the homage which we shall
find done by certain French princes to Eadward the Confessor.
The relations between Charles and Offa, and their temporary difference,
are also fully explained in the passages collected by Sir Francis
Palgrave. A number of important letters will be found in Haddan and
Stubbs, Councils and Ecclesiastical Documents, iii. 486 et seqq.; Jaffé,
Monumenta Alcuiniana, 155, 167, 290, et al. There is a long mythical
account of it in the Vita Offæ Secundi, pp. 13 et seqq. From thence Sir
F. Palgrave quotes the story that Archbishop Janberht had promised to
admit a Frankish army into England (Vita Offæ, 21). This is doubtless a
good deal exaggerated, but notice should be taken of a very remarkable
expression in the account given in Cod. Dipl. i. 281 of the relations
between Offa’s successor Cenwulf and Archbishop Wulfred. It is plain
that a deep impression had been made on the minds of Englishmen by the
dealings of Charles in the matters of Eardwulf, Ealhwine, and Janberht;
“Tunc in eodem concilio cum maxima districtione illi episcopo mandavit
quod omnibus rebus quæ illius dominationis sunt dispoliatus debuisset
fieri, omnique de patria ista esse profugus, et numquam nec _verbis
domni Papæ nec Cæsaris_ seu alterius alicujus gradu huc in patriam
iterum recipisse.” Cenwulf clearly held that neither the Bishop of Rome
nor the Emperor of Rome either had any jurisdiction in his realm of
Mercia. The odd description of Offa as the Western and Charles as the
Eastern potentate comes from a very suspicious source, namely the Life
of Offa, p. 21; “Ego Karolus regum Christianorum orientalium
potentissimus, vos, O Offane, regum occidentalium Christianorum
potentissime, cupio lætificare,” &c. But the expression is singular
enough to be worth quoting, if only on account of its very singularity,
as it is the sort of thing which one can hardly fancy a forger
inventing.
The influence of Charles in English affairs is strangely exaggerated in
a passage of John of Wallingford (Gale, 529); “Rex Pipinus obiit regni
ejus anno xii. Successitque Karolus filius ejus anno ab Incarnatione
Domini DCCLXIX. Porro iste, sicut alia regna, sic et Angliam tempore
hujus regis Offæ sibi subegit.”
The description of Offa in the Chronicle of Saint Wandrille (Pertz, ii.
291) as “Rex Anglorum sive Merciorum potentissimus” should be noticed.
NOTE E. p. 48.
THE CHANGES IN NOMENCLATURE PRODUCED BY THE DANISH SETTLEMENT.
Mr. Kemble has gone (Saxons in England, i. 77–84) very minutely into the
subject of the old divisions of England, and he has collected a great
number of names, some of which can be easily identified, while others
can only be guessed at and some are quite hopeless. But it is plain (see
Kemble, i. 78, 79) that the West-Saxon names, Wilsætas, Sumorsætas,
Dornsætas, are all older than Ælfred’s time, while the names of the
present Mercian shires are later than Ælfred, and have supplanted
earlier names, as appears from Mr. Kemble’s list of old Mercian shires
(i. 81), some of which are quite unintelligible. One or two very obvious
instances will be enough for my purpose. Thus the principality of the
Hwiccas has long formed two whole shires, Worcester and Gloucester, and
part of another, Warwick. The Magesætas seem to be divided between
Herefordshire and Shropshire. Lincolnshire contains several
principalities, Gainas, Lindisfaras, &c., but the traces of their
original independence are not wholly lost even at the present day.
In Wessex most of the shires, Berkshire, Somerset, Dorset, Devonshire,
are clearly not called from towns. Somerset and Dorset have cognate
towns in Somerton and Dorchester; but they are merely cognate; the shire
is not called after the town. But Hampshire, the County of Southampton,
is simply _Hamtunscír_, from the town of Hampton. Hampshire was the
first conquest; no doubt it had originally no local name like the other
shires, but was simply _Westseaxe_ or _Westseaxnarice_. When therefore
it became a mere shire, it had to take a new name, and was named from
the town. It may be asked why the shire which contained the capital was
called from the town of Hampton and not from the royal city of
Winchester. I can only suggest that some prerogative of the crown or
some privilege of the citizens may have kept the capital more distant
from the body of the shire than Hampton was.
Wiltshire is a case intermediate between Hampshire and Somerset. The
Wilsætas are a tribe, and have their chief town Wilton. But the form
_Wiltunscír_ shows that the shire is immediately called from the town,
whence the _t_ in the modern form Wiltshire.
In Mercia, on the other hand, all the shires are now called from towns
with one, perhaps two exceptions. _Shropshire_ seems to be rather
cognate with Shrewsbury than directly derived from it, and alongside of
_Scrobbesbyrigscír_ the _Scrobsœtas_ continue to be heard of. Rutland,
at once the smallest and the most modern of Mercian shires, is, oddly
enough, the only one which has a distinct territorial name, not even
cognate with that of any town. Rutland, as a distinct shire, is later
than Domesday, where it appears, strangely enough, as a kind of
appendage to Nottingham. How it gained the rank of a shire, while the
adjoining and larger district of Holland did not, would be an
interesting question for local antiquaries.
I have no doubt that the Mercian shires were mapped out afresh after the
reconquest. That the redistribution was not made by the Danish invaders
is plain from the fact that the boundary laid down between Guthrum and
Ælfred is not attended to in marking out the divisions of the shires. We
may conceive that the work was begun by Ælfred, or rather perhaps by
Æthelred and Æthelflæd in that part of Mercia which was assigned to them
by the peace with Guthrum, and that it was further carried on by Eadward
the Elder after the recovery of Danish Mercia. In this we may see the
groundwork of the legendary belief that Ælfred first divided England
into shires and hundreds. With the shires within his own kingdom there
was no need to meddle. Gneist (Englische Verwaltungsrecht, i. 56)
enlarges on the share of Ælfred in this matter, but leaves out Eadward.
As for the nomenclature of towns and villages, it would seem that places
were more commonly named directly after individuals in the course of the
Danish Conquest than they had been by the earlier English occupiers. At
least, among the names given during the English occupation, those which
are formed from the proper name itself are less common than those which
are formed from the patronymic ending in -_ing_. These last again raise
the question, how far they are called after historical individuals and
how far they are tribe-names called after some mythical patriarch. This
last view will be found discussed at length by Kemble, Saxons in
England, i. 59 and Appendix A. (See also Comparative Politics, 395.)
Names like Toot_ing_, Bens_ing_ton, Gill_ing_ham, give the typical
forms. On the other hand (see Kemble’s note, p. 60), it should be
remembered that this familiar form _ing_, being so familiar, has often
swallowed up others; thus Eth_an_dún, Æbb_an_dún, Hunt_an_dún, forms of
quite different origin, have been corrupted into Ed_ing_ton, Ab_ing_don,
Hunt_ing_don. Birm_ing_ham again has been thought to to be a corruption
of _Bromicham_, but Mr. Kemble (i. 457) admits it as a genuine
patronymic from the Beormingas. On the other hand, Glæst_inga_byrig, a
genuine patronymic, has been corrupted into Glast_on_bury, and a wrong
derivation given to the name.
An exact parallel to the Danish system of nomenclature is supplied by a
later and less known, though very remarkable, settlement of the same
kind, the Flemish occupation of Pembrokeshire in the twelfth century.
The villages in the Teutonic part of that county bear names exactly
analogous to those of Lincolnshire, only ending in the English _ton_
instead of the Danish _by_. Such are Johnston, Williamston,
Herbrandston, and a crowd of others.
NOTE F. p. 54.
ÆTHELRED AND ÆTHELFLÆD OF MERCIA.
The Chronicles speak of Æthelred as Ealdorman of that part of Mercia
which was kept by Ælfred, in 886, when London was entrusted to his
keeping. See also the extract from Asser in Florence, where he is
described as “Merciorum comes.” He married Ælfred’s daughter Æthelflæd,
and he appears, even in the older state of things in Mercia, to have
held a special position under Burhred, as in a charter in Cod. Dipl. ii.
99, confirmed by “Burhred rex Merciorum,” he describes himself as
“Æðelred Deo adjuvante Merciorum dux,” a title which suggests those of
“Francorum” and “Anglorum dux.” His reappointment by Ælfred must have
been one of the King’s first acts after the peace with Guthrum, as we
find a charter of his of the year 880 in Cod. Dipl. ii. 107, in which
his style runs thus; “Ego Æðelred, gratia Domini largiflua concedente,
dux et patricius gentis Merciorum cum licentia et impositione manûs
Ælfredi regis, una cum testimonio et consensu seniorum ejusdem gentis
episcoporum vel principum, pro redemptione animarum nostrarum et pro
sospitate necnon et stabilitate _regni Merciorum_.” So in a charter of
883 (Cod. Dipl. ii. 110), which begins in Latin and goes on in English,
and which even in the English part comes nearer than usual to the
inflated style of the Latin documents; “Ic Æðelræd ealdorman inbyrdendre
Godes gefe gewelegod and gewlenced mid _sume dæle_ Mercna _rices_ ...
mid Ælfredes cyninges leafe and gewitnesse, and mid ealra Myrcna witena
godcundra hada and woroldcundra.” The words “sume dæle” seem to mark
Æthelred as holding a smaller territorial jurisdiction under Ælfred than
he had held under Burhred, and the formula reminds one of Cnut’s style
(Florence 1031); “Rex totius Angliæ et Denemarciæ et Norreganorum et
_partis Suanorum_.” Mercia however is still a kingdom, like Ireland up
to 1801, and Æthelred looks very like a Lord Lieutenant holding an Irish
Parliament. Heming’s Worcester Cartulary (93) records another Mercian
Gemót held by Æthelred; “Þa ðe gere gebeon Æðelred alderman alle Mercna
weotan to somne to Gleaweceastre biscopas and aldermen and all his
duguðe, and þæt dyde be Ælfredes cyninges gewitnesse and leafe.”
The position of Æthelred in Mercia is thus described by William of
Malmesbury (ii. 125); “Ille [Elfredus] duo regna Merciorum et
West-Saxonum conjunxerit, Merciorum nomine tenus, quippe commendatum
duci Etheredo, tenens.” He had already said (ii. 121), “Londoniam,
_caput regni Merciorum_ [“caput regni, Merciorum”?] cuidam primario
Etheredo in fidelitatem suam cum filia Ethelflædi concessit.” This use
of “regnum” is like the use of the same word as applied to Bavaria under
the Agilolfing Dukes. (See Waitz, iii. 302.)
It may perhaps be thought that Æthelred and the Lady felt themselves
more nearly on an equality with their brother than they had done with
their father; at least in a charter of 901 (Cod. Dipl. ii. 136) they
seem to assume a more royal style; “Æðelred Æð[elflædque o]pitulante
gratuita Dei gratia _monarchiam Merciorum_ tenentes honorificeque
gubernantes et defendentes.” And it may be a sign of a higher rank that
Æthelred, who in Ælfred’s time (as in 886) is called only Ealdorman, in
Eadward’s reign is twice called “Myrcna _hlaford_” in the Chronicles.
One time is in 911, when his death is recorded (though he is called
“Ealdorman” in other entries of the same event), and again in 919, when
his daughter Ælfwyn is spoken of. Florence too in 912 calls him “dux et
patricius, dominus et subregulus Merciorum;” and again in 919,
“subregulus.” This last title he also gives him in Ælfred’s time in 894,
but in 886 he is only “comes.” However this may be, in another charter
of 904 (Cod. Dipl. ii. 148), granted to a subordinate Ealdorman
Æthelfrith, the supremacy of Eadward is distinctly recognized;
“prædictus dux rogavit Eaduuardum regem et Æðelredum quoque et
Æðelflædam qui tunc principatum et potestatem gentis Merciorum sub
prædicto rege tenuerunt, omnes etiam senatores Merciorum.”
As Æthelred is “Myrcna hlaford,” so Æthelflæd always appears in the
Chronicles as “Myrcna hlæfdige,” and in Florence as “Merciorum domina.”
Lady, I need hardly say, was in Wessex the highest female title, being
reserved for the King’s wife. But in Mercia, as not being affected by
the crime and punishment of Eadburh, the title of Queen seems to have
gone on. In the Chronicles (888) we read of Ælfred’s sister, the widow
of Burhred, as “Æðelswið cwén.” “Hlæfdige” therefore may perhaps have
been meant as a title less distinctly royal; but in the Annales Cambriæ
(917) we read, “Ælfled regina obiit.”
On the whole it seems plain that the position of Æthelred, and still
more the position of his widow, was something above that of an ordinary
Ealdorman. It should be remembered that he was the first Ealdorman of
what had not long before been a mighty kingdom, and this _quasi_-royal
position was a natural stage in the process of incorporation.
NOTE G. pp. 58, 119.
THE COMMENDATION OF 924.
My narrative of the relations between England and Scotland, and my view
of the dependence of the Scottish crown on the English Empire from 924
to 1328, are grounded on what I believe to be the sure witness of
ancient authorities, read to a great extent under the guidance of Sir
Francis Palgrave. All notion of any legal or permanent dependence such
as I assert is cast aside by the late Mr. E. W. Robertson in his book
entitled “Scotland under Early Kings.” That book is one which, though I
hold many of its views to be erroneous, cannot be passed by without
notice. It is a work of deep research and ability, and Mr. Robertson has
the advantage of an acquaintance with Celtic literature to which I can
make no pretensions. And I find with especial pleasure that, on several
points where our theories do not clash, Mr. Robertson and myself have
come independently to the same conclusions. Still on the points at issue
I confess that, after reading Mr. Robertson’s arguments, I remain of the
same opinion as I was before. He has thrown a certain amount of doubt on
a few details which are not absolutely essential, but I think that he
has utterly failed to upset those clear passages of the Chronicles on
which the belief which I share with Sir Francis Palgrave mainly rests.
Unluckily the scheme of my work does not allow me to grapple in detail
with all Mr. Robertson’s arguments as to the earliest stages of the
question. But I confess that I feel strongly inclined to enter minutely
into them in some other shape. The subject is one excellently suited for
a monograph. I have myself dealt with some parts of it somewhat more
fully in my Historical Essays (First Series, p. 56). But I feel that the
question is very far from being exhausted, and I trust that some other
champion of the rights of Eadward and Æthelstan may be forthcoming.
The point which forms the immediate subject of this Note is the
Commendation of Scotland to Eadward in 924, the most important point in
the whole dispute. The choosing of Eadward as Father and Lord by the
King of Scots and the whole people of the Scots is, both in the
thirteenth and in the nineteenth century, the primary fact from which
the English controversialist starts. William of Malmesbury, or even
Florence of Worcester, may have blundered or exaggerated about Eadgar’s
triumph at Chester or about any other point of detail, but, as long as
the fact of the great Commendation is admitted, the case of the
West-Saxon Emperors of Britain stands firm. That Commendation is
recorded, as clearly as words can record it, not in a ballad or in a
saga, not in the inflated rhetoric of a Latin charter, but in the honest
English of the Winchester Chronicle. Than its words no words can be
plainer; “And hine geces þa to fæder and to hlaforde Scotta cyning and
eall Scotta þeod, and Rægnald and Eadulfes suna and ealle þa þe on
Norþhymbrum, bugeaþ, ægþer ge Englisce, ge Denisce, ge Norþmen, ge oþre,
and eac Stræcled Weala cyning, and ealle Stræcled Wealas.” I add the
translation of Florence, who places the event in 921, not however as
holding that it adds anything to the authority of the original record;
“Eo tempore rex Scottorum cum tota gente sua, Reignoldus rex Danorum cum
Anglis et Danis Northhymbriam incolentibus, rex etiam Streatcledwalorum
cum suis, regem Eadwardum seniorem sibi in patrem et dominum elegerunt,
firmumque cum eo fœdus pepigerunt.” Now if we are not to believe a fact
on such evidence as this, there is nothing in those times which we can
believe. It is strange that, in the obvious place for treating of the
subject, in the text of his history at vol. i. p. 59, Mr. Robertson has
not a word to say about the matter, but passes over the year 924 as if
it were bare of events. But in an Appendix (vol. ii. p. 394) he
discusses the matter at some length. To the truth of the famous record
which I have quoted at pp. 58, 119 of my own text Mr. Robertson makes
several objections.
First, he alleges that the Northumbrian Danes did not submit to Eadward.
It is almost enough to answer that this passage is evidence that they
did. If we are not to accept the distinct statements of the Chronicles,
we are altogether at sea in the history of these times. Mr. Robertson’s
reason for doubting the truth of the statement is that it is
inconsistent with certain passages in other English writers—he might
have added in the Chronicles themselves—which attribute the first
annexation of Northumberland to Æthelstan in 926. But there is nothing
irreconcileable in the two statements. I gave the explanation in the
text of my first edition without having heard of Mr. Robertson’s
objections; “Eadward’s immediate kingdom reached to the Humber, and his
over-lordship extended over the whole island” (p. 58). But, from 926
onwards, the object of Æthelstan and his successors was to extend, not
their over-lordship but their immediate sovereignty, over the whole of
Northumberland. “Æthelstan cyning feng to Norðhymbra rice.” He became
the immediate King of the country, whereas Eadward had been only Father
and Lord to its Kings and people. After 926 Northumbrian Kings were
often set up, but, except the lords of Bamburgh, of whom I shall speak
in another Note, no Northumbrian prince was admitted by Æthelstan to
vassalage. He asserted and maintained an immediate dominion over the
country. This system was followed by his successors, except during the
momentary recognition of Olaf and Rægnald by Eadmund in 943. There is
therefore no contradiction. Eadward introduced one state of things in
Northumberland and Æthelstan introduced another.
Secondly, Mr. Robertson objects that the Chronicles represent the
Commendation to have been made at Bakewell in the Peakland, and that
this is inconsistent “with the words which Simeon and Florence place in
the mouth of Malcolm Ceanmore” in 1092 (it should be 1093), which “show
that, in the opinion of that age, no Scottish King had ever met an
Anglo-Saxon sovereign except upon their _mutual_ [sic] frontiers.” Now,
if there were any real inconsistency between the two statements, the
direct statement of the Chronicle under the year 924 is surely much
better authority for the events of the year 924 than an inference made
by Mr. Robertson from a speech attributed to Malcolm in 1093. If
Malcolm’s speech contradicts the facts of history, so much the worse for
Malcolm and his speech. But there is really no inconsistency at all. The
Chronicle in no way implies that the Commendation was made at Bakewell,
and Malcolm in no way implies that it was not made at Bakewell. The
Chronicler puts the Commendation of the King of Scots and the other
princes in the same year as the building of the fortress of Bakewell; he
may even imply that Eadward’s progress towards the North, of which the
fortification of Bakewell was a part, had a share in bringing about the
submission of all these Northern Kings. But he does not say that any of
them came to Bakewell to make the Commendation. Malcolm says only that
the Kings of Scots had been used to “do their duty” (rectitudinem
facere) to the Kings of the English only on the confines of their
dominions. The assertion may be true or false; but it is quite another
thing from asserting that no King of Scots had ever met an English King
anywhere but on the frontier. The first place of meeting need not have
been the same as that which was usual 169 years later. There is in short
nothing to show whether the Commendation took place at Bakewell or
anywhere else.
Lastly, Mr. Robertson objects that Rægnald or Regenwald, who is
described as one of the princes who submitted in 924, died in 921. I
presume that, along with the Commendation of Rægnald in 924, Mr.
Robertson sets aside his taking of York, which the Chronicles place in
923. This is asking us to give up a good deal out of deference to his
Irish guides. But here again there is no necessary inconsistency. Mr.
Robertson refers to the Annals of Ulster. Those Annals (Ant. Celt. Norm.
p. 66) undoubtedly kill “Reginald O’Ivar,” not in 921 but in 920; but
the name was a common one, and I see no evidence that the two Rægnalds
need be the same. The Annals of Ulster themselves show that there was
another person of the same name, “Reginald Mac Beolach,” living in the
same part of the world in 917, and it would be worth inquiring whether
any of these Rægnalds—the name is spelt in endless ways—can be the same
as the Rægnald who figures at this time in the history of Gaul (see p.
163). I will not rely on the signatures of two charters of 930 by
Regenwald or Reinwald (Cod. Dipl. ii. 168–171), because Mr. Kemble marks
them as doubtful. Anyhow I see no proof of error in our Chronicles.
There is no real contradiction between the English and Irish
authorities; and if there be, I really do not see why the Englishman
must needs go to the wall. But granting that Rægnald’s name was wrongly
inserted, such a mistake would not touch the main fact of the
Commendation. Such a fact as the Commendation of Scotland and
Strathclyde is a thing about which there could be no mistake. It is
either an historical truth or a barefaced lie. But in mentioning several
minor princes who commended themselves at the same time, a wrong name
might easily slip in without any evil intention. Several Northumbrian
chiefs commended themselves; Rægnald was a famous Northumbrian name; a
scribe might easily put Rægnald instead of some other name. The blunder
would not be so bad as when Thietmar calls Ælfheah Dunstan (see Appendix
OO), or as the utter confusion which the Scandinavian writers make of
the names and order both of English Kings and of Norman Dukes.
I have examined this question in full, because it is the root of the
whole matter. Other questions raised by Mr. Robertson I must pass by, or
reserve for some other opportunity for discussion. I certainly think
that the Commendation of 924 is in no way touched by Mr. Robertson’s
objections, and I feel sure, from the acuteness which Mr. Robertson
displays in other parts of his work, that he would never have satisfied
himself with such futile arguments except under the influence of strong
national partiality.
Another point, which I have briefly mentioned at pp. 131, 451, is worth
notice. The fact that the people, as well as the King, choose Eadward as
their lord does not seem to me to imply that he became lord to each
particular man. In cases where the relation was much closer than between
Scotland and England, the _arrière_ vassal was not the _man_ of the
over-lord. Thus John of Joinville, as a vassal of the Count of
Champagne, refused to do homage to the King of the French, because he
was not his _man_. When Henry the Second exacted an oath of fealty from
the vassals of William the Lion, the claim was a novelty, and it was
given up by Richard the First, a renunciation which has been perverted
into a renunciation of all superiority over Scotland.
But when we reach the final quarrel between Edward the First and John of
Balliol, it turns on a question which looks very like a claim on the
part of the King of England to jurisdiction in internal Scottish
affairs. That is to say, Edward the First, as a feudal superior,
received appeals from the courts of the King of Scots, exactly as the
King of the French, Edward’s own feudal superior for the duchy of
Aquitaine, received appeals from Edward’s courts in that duchy. We can
hardly suppose that any such right was contemplated in the original
Commendation; it is a notion essentially belonging to a later time. But
it was no arbitrary invention of Edward; he did but receive the appeals
which Scottish suitors brought before him of their own accord. The truth
is that, when the commendatory relation had, in the ideas of both sides,
changed into a strictly feudal one, the right of appeal would seem to
follow as a matter of course, and neither side would stop to ask whether
such a right was really implied in the ancient Commendation.
NOTE H. pp. 63, 125.
THE GRANT OF CUMBERLAND.
Nothing can be plainer than the entry on this head in the Chronicles
(945), “Her Eadmund cyning ofer hergode eal Cumbraland, and hit let eal
to Malculme Scotta cyninge on þæt gerad þæt he wære his midwyrhta ægþer
ge on sæ ge on lande.”
Florence simply translates, except that a slight tinge of the later
feudalism is perhaps thrown in when he expresses the word “midwyrhta” by
“fidelis.” Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 746 C), though bringing in some
rather vague matter, is more literal in his version on this point;
“Sequenti vero anno totam Cumberland, quia gentem provinciæ illius
perfidam et legibus insolitam ad plenum domare nequibat, prædavit et
contrivit et commendavit eam Malculmo regi Scotiæ hoc pacto, quod in
auxilio sibi foret terra et mari.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 141)
merely says, “Provincia quæ vocatur Cumberland regi Scottorum Malcolmo,
sub fidelitate jurisjurandi commendata.” Roger of Wendover (ii. 398)
adds the two important details, which he could hardly have invented,
that Eadmund was helped in his expedition by Llywelyn of Dyfed, and that
the sons of Dummail or Donald were blinded; “Eodem anno rex Eadmundus,
adjutorio Leolini regis Demetiæ fretus, Cumbriam totam cunctis opibus
spoliavit, ac duobus filiis Dummail, ejusdem provinciæ regis, oculorum
luce privatis, regnum illud Malcolmo, Scotorum regi, de se tenendum
concessit, ut aquilonales Angliæ partes terra marique ab hostium
adventantium incursione tueretur.”
The Scottish writers, as I have said in the text, in no way deny the
fact of the grant; they are indeed rather inclined, for obvious reasons,
to make too much rather than too little of it. Fordun (iv. 24) is more
explicit than any of the English writers, and uses the most distinctly
feudal language; “Provinciam, quæ vocatur Cumbreland, regi Scotorum
Malcolmo rex sub fidelitate jurisjurandi commendavit, hæc ille.
Postmodum vero statim inter eos concordatum est, et amborum consilio
decretum, ut in futurum, pro bono continuandæ pacis utriusque regni,
Malcolmi regis proximus hæres Indulfus, cæterorumque regum Scotorum
hæredes qui pro tempore fuerint, Edmundo regi suisque successoribus
Anglis regibus homagium pro Cumbria facerent, ac fidelitatis
sacramentum.” He goes on to say, in language which seems to come from
the same source as the words of Henry of Huntingdon, that neither King
was ever to take the Cumbrians, “barbaram aquilonis et perfidam gentem,”
into his direct favour or homage, a promise which was afterwards broken
on both sides.
The fact of the grant is also admitted in the book called “Extracta ex
Cronicis Scocie,” pp. 49, 50, though the compiler vigorously asserts a
former Scottish possession which was lost through the Scottish defeat at
Brunanburh. Of King Gregory (875–892) we read (p. 46), “Hic etiam
strenue totam subjugavit Hiberniam et pene totam Angliam.” Of
Constantine (p. 47), “Hic rex xl annis regnavit, et quamvis contra eum
bellabant reges Anglorum, Ead_winus_ [sic] et filius suus nothus
Adelstanus successive regnantes, et contra Scotos cum Danis pactum et
pacem inierunt, qui post iv annos rumpitur, et Angli a Scotis veniam
precantes iterum Scotos sibi reconciliarunt. Quo toto tempore rex
Constantinus Cumbriam et ceteras terras in Anglia possedit, et regni sui
anno xvi dedit Eugenio filio Dovenaldi sperato successori dimidium regni
Cumbri hereditarie possidendum.” It is curious to see the frame of mind
in which he approaches the mention of Brunanburh; “Infaustus ille dies
Scotis, nam quæque dominia temporibus Gregorii et hactenus conquesta,
necnon liv annis possessa, quidam scribunt Constantinum regem hoc bello
perdidisse.”
So we find it also in Hector Boece (218 _b_), by whose time the story
had got further confused, and the grant, or rather treaty, is now
attributed to Æthelstan instead of Eadmund; “Secundum legationem omnibus
consentientibus fœdus inter Anglos Scotosque veteribus conditionibus est
ictum, hac unica adjecta, ut Anglis Northumbria, Danico tum sanguine
pene referto, cederent; Cumbria ac Vestmaria Scotis; ea lege, ut
Scotorum _princeps_ (ita eum qui secundum regem vita functum summum
obiturus est magistratum, uti est significatum antea, vocant nostrates)
in verba Anglorum regis ea pro regione juraret.” This passage is worth
notice, as showing that the modern use of the word _Prince_, as
equivalent to Ætheling, was coming into use in Boece’s time, but that it
still needed explanation.
As to the fact and the nature of the grant to Malcolm there can, I
think, be no doubt. It was probably the earliest instance in Britain of
a fief in the strictest sense, as opposed to a case of commendation. But
I wish to keep myself as clear as possible from all mazes as to the ever
fluctuating boundaries of Strathclyde or Cumberland. On the whole
matter, I would refer to Palgrave, English Commonwealth, i. 440 et seqq.
NOTE I. p. 65.
THE CESSION OF LOTHIAN.
The question with regard to Lothian is briefly this. Was the cession of
that part of Northumberland to the Scottish crown a grant from Eadgar to
his faithful vassal Kenneth? Or was the district wrung by Malcolm from
the fears of Eadwulf Cutel, or won by force of arms after the battle of
Carham in 1018?
Mr. Robertson (Scotland under Early Kings, i. 96; ii. 390 et seqq., 426
et seqq.), consistently with his theory, strongly adopts the latter
view, and maintains the former to be a mere “fabrication.” To me the
question seems a very difficult one, about which it will be well to go
minutely through all the authorities.
The Chronicles, Florence, William of Malmesbury, Simeon of Durham in his
main history, are all silent as to any transfer of Lothian from English
to Scottish dominion. And yet nothing is more certain than that Lothian
was at one time English and that at a later time it became Scottish. The
only question is as to the date of the change. The first beginnings of
the Scottish occupation of Lothian are certainly older than either of
the dates given above. Indulf, who reigned from 954 to 962, occupied
Edinburgh, _Eadwinesburh_, the frontier fortress of the great
Northumbrian Bretwalda, which ever after remained in the power of the
Scots. This does not seem to have been a conquest made in war. The
English forsook the post. “In hujus tempore,” says the Pictish
Chronicler (Ant. Celt. Norm. p. 142), “oppidum Eden vacuatum est, ac
relictum est Scottis usque in hodiernum diem.” Possibly Edinburgh was a
grant made by Eadred on his final acquisition of Northumberland in 954.
Eadred’s relations with Scotland were friendly. The Scots made full
submission to him on his election in 946; they acted as his allies in
his wars with the rebellious Northumbrians; Scots and English, “the men
of Alba and the Saxons,” were, according to the Four Masters (vol. ii.
p. 668), defeated by the “foreigners”—doubtless the Danes—in 951. If
Eadred rewarded his Scottish ally with the grant of Edinburgh, the step
would be very like the grant of Cumberland to Malcolm in 945. On the
other hand, it is quite possible that the relinquishment of Edinburgh by
the English may have been less wholly an act of free will than the grant
of Cumberland; it may have been found difficult or useless to maintain
so distant a fortress during the troubles of the reign of Eadwig. But on
any showing, the event of Indulf’s reign was simply a relinquishment of
the single fortress of Edinburgh, though such a relinquishment may well
have been felt, especially on the Scottish side, to be merely a step
towards the transfer of the whole province. For the date of the great
cession our authorities are John of Wallingford (p. 544) and Roger of
Wendover (i. 416), who give the earlier date, and Simeon of Durham in
his Tract on the Northumbrian Earls (X Scriptt. 81), who gives the
later.
According to John of Wallingford, Eadgar (see p. 266 and Appendix KK),
in a meeting of the Northumbrian Witan at York (“barones Northumbrenses
in concilium convocans apud Eboracum”), divided the ancient kingdom into
two earldoms, giving Deira to Oslac and Bernicia (which John confusedly
calls Deira) to Eadwulf “Evelchild.” The name of Eadwulf is seemingly
due to some confusion with Oswulf, whom John fancies to be dead. But
Lothian, the northern part of Bernicia, lying exposed to the incursions
of the Scots, was little valued by the English Kings. The King of Scots
moreover asserted a claim to it by hereditary right. Kenneth accordingly
went to London, accompanied by the two Northumbrian Earls and by Ælfsige
Bishop of Lindisfarne, to seek a conference with Eadgar. Eadgar received
him friendly, and Kenneth opened his case, praying for Lothian as an
ancient possession of the Scottish Kings. Eadgar referred the matter to
his Witan (“caussam curiæ suæ intimavit”), by whose consent the province
was granted in fief—I cannot avoid the terms of a later jurisprudence—to
Kenneth, who did homage for it. Kenneth also promised that the ancient
laws and customs of the country should be preserved and the English
language retained, an engagement which was strictly carried out (“sub
cautione multa promittens quod populo partis illius antiquas
consuetudines non negaret, et sub nomine et lingua Anglicana
permanerent. Quod usque hodie firmum manet”). Thus the old dispute about
Lothian was settled, though new ones often arose (“sicque determinata
est vetus querela de Louthion, et adhuc nova sæpe intentatur”).
Roger of Wendover is briefer. He tells how Earl Eadwulf—he does not
mention Oslac—and Bishop Ælfsige took the Scottish King to the court of
Eadgar; how the King of the English gave Kenneth many magnificent
presents, and granted to him the whole land of Lothian. The tenure was
that, each year, on the great feasts when the King wore his crown (see
the Peterborough Chronicle under the year 1087), the King of Scots
should come to his court with the other princes of his realm. Eadgar
also assigned to his royal vassal and his successors several houses at
different points of the road, at which they could be entertained on
their way to the English court, which mansions the Kings of Scots
retained down to the time of Henry the Second.
Simeon places the cession after the death of Uhtred in 1016 (see p.
448);
“Quo [Ucthredo] occiso, frater ipsius Eadulf cognomento Cudel, ignavus
valde et timidus, et successit in comitatum. Timens autem ne Scotti
mortem suorum quos frater ejus, ut supradictum est [see p. 329],
occiderat, in se vindicarent, totum Lodoneium ob satisfactionem et
firmam concordiam eis donavit. Hoc modo Lodoneium adjectum est regno
Scottorum.”
Now, looking at our authorities in the abstract, there is no doubt as to
the infinite superiority of Simeon, our very best authority for
Northumbrian affairs, over two late and often inaccurate writers like
John of Wallingford and Roger of Wendover. If there is an
irreconcileable contradiction between the two stories, Simeon’s story is
to be preferred without hesitation. I hold that Simeon’s statement
distinctly proves that some cession of Lothian was made by Eadwulf, and,
if so, we can hardly be wrong in setting down that cession as a result
of the battle of Carham. The question is whether this can be admitted,
and at the same time some kernel of truth be recognized in the story
told by John and Roger. Let us first see what the witness of those
writers is worth in itself.
I need hardly say that secondary writers of this sort, even the best of
them, must be subjected to much severer tests than any that we apply to
the Chronicles, to Florence, or even to William of Malmesbury. We accept
nothing, strictly speaking, on their _authority_. We weigh their
statements and judge what they are worth, both according to the laws of
internal evidence and according to the way in which they may
incidentally fall in with or incidentally contradict the statements of
better writers. We put very little faith in their details, which are
more likely than not to be romantic additions. Still in all cases we
acknowledge the likelihood that there is some kernel of truth round
which the romantic details have grown. John of Wallingford is
undoubtedly a writer whom it is not safe to trust, unless his statements
have some strong confirmation, internal or external. Of his way of
dealing with matters, I have given some specimens in the course of this
volume (see Note GG). Still he is not to be cast aside as wholly
worthless. A few pages before the passage with which we are concerned
(pp. 535, 540), he shows a good deal of critical acumen in pointing out
the chronological impossibility of the tale which makes Rolf an ally of
the great Æthelstan (see above, p. 165). Roger of Wendover is, on the
whole, a more trustworthy writer than John, and when he comes nearer to
his own time, he becomes a very valuable authority; but for times so far
removed from their own days, John and Roger must be set down as writers
belonging essentially to the same class. Now in comparing their two
statements as to the cession of Lothian by Eadgar, we are at once struck
by the fact that the two accounts seem quite independent of each other.
There is no sign that either narrative is borrowed from the other, no
sign that the two are borrowed from some common source. The two stories
do not directly contradict one another; but they have nothing in common,
except the bare facts that Kenneth received the province from Eadgar,
and that Earl Eadwulf and Bishop Ælfsige had a hand in the business.
They are two independent witnesses, pointing, as it seems to me, to two
independent sources of tradition or lost record. And of the two, the
narrative of John of Wallingford certainly has the clearer inherent
signs of trustworthiness. If there is any ground to suspect fabrication
with a motive—not necessarily in the historian himself, but in those
whom he followed—it certainly appears in the narrative of Roger rather
than in that of John. Roger gives no account of the circumstances of the
grant, he assigns no intelligible political motive for it, he describes
no intelligible tenure by which the fief was to be held; he dwells
mainly on the magnificence of the presents made by Eadgar to Kenneth,
and on points bearing on questions which, when he wrote, were matters of
recent controversy and negotiation. The points brought out into the
greatest prominence are the duty of the King of Scots to attend at the
English court, and the signs at once of English munificence and of
Scottish submission displayed in the preparations made for the due
reception of the royal vassal. These were points of no small interest in
the times when Roger was young, and which were not forgotten when he
wrote. There is nothing of this kind in the narrative of John of
Wallingford. He has undoubtedly made a false step on ground on which it
is very easy to make a false step, namely in the succession of the
Northumbrian Earls. Even the accurate Simeon, writing so much nearer to
the place and to the time, has himself, in one case at least, done the
like (see Note LLL). John’s Eadwulf Evelchild ought to be Oswulf, just
as Simeon’s Uhtred, in the account of the battle of Carham, ought to be
Eadwulf. But John’s main story fits in very well with the facts of the
case. Mr. Robertson (ii. 391) objects that there was no “old quarrel
about Lothian.” But the facts show that there was. Surely Lothian was an
old Pictish possession which had been conquered by the Angles, and which
was sometimes partially won back by its old owners. The wars of
Æthelfrith (Bæda, i. 34) and of Ecgfrith (iv. 26) surely make up a very
old “querela de Louthion,” but one not too old for Celtic memories to
bear in mind. The acquisition of Edinburgh, however made, shows that the
Scottish Kings in the tenth century were looking steadily in the
direction of Lothian. Kenneth himself, friendly as he now was to Eadgar,
had made at least one foray into the country. The Pictish Chronicle
(Ant. Celt. Norm. 143) says, “Primo anno perrexit Cinadius et prædavit
Saxoniam [Lothian] et traduxit filium regis Saxonum” (see p. 65). The
captivity of an English Ætheling is a grotesque exaggeration; but we may
accept the fact that Kenneth had some border skirmishes with the local
Earl, who in 971, the first year of Kenneth, would be Oswulf. All this
shows that the acquisition of Lothian was at this time a favourite
object of Scottish ambition. And now that Eadgar and Kenneth were on
friendly terms, a grant of the country, like the undoubted grant of
Cumberland, like the probable grant of Edinburgh, might be an act of
thoroughly good policy on the part of England. A distant province, which
it was hard to keep as an integral part of the kingdom, might be
prudently granted as a fief to the prince by whom it was claimed, and to
whose incursions it lay open. That the conditions spoken of by John of
Wallingford, the retention of the laws and language of Lothian, were
strictly kept, is proved by the whole later history. The laws and
language of Lothian became the laws and language of the historic
Scotland.
The cession recorded by John of Wallingford seems therefore to be in
itself highly probable. But is it inconsistent with the later, and
undoubtedly better authenticated, cession recorded by Simeon of Durham?
It does not seem to me to be so; neither did it to Sir Francis Palgrave
(Engl. Comm. i. 474, 477) or to Dr. Lappenberg (ii. 141, 207, p. 473 of
the original). It may be that the word Lothian, a somewhat vague name,
has a slightly different meaning in the two passages; it may be that a
cession was made to Kenneth by Eadgar, and a further cession by Eadwulf
Cutel to Malcolm. It is less easy to believe, with Sir Francis Palgrave,
that Eadwulf’s cession was a cession of the rights of the local Earl,
reserved, or not formally surrendered, at the time of the earlier grant
by the King. The simplest explanation is to suppose that Lothian was
recovered by the English after the great victory of Uhtred in 1006, that
it was occupied again by the Scots after their victory at Carham, and
that then the cowardly Eadwulf gave up all claim to it. Cnut however, in
1031, if not before (see p. 450 and Note LLL), set matters straight. In
that year at least, “Scotta cyng him to beah,” “and wearð his
mann”—Malcolm then became the liegeman of the King of all England for
Scotland and Lothian and all that he had.
This I believe to be the most probable explanation of this difficult
question. The silence of the Chronicles proves nothing either way; it
has to be accounted for equally on either view of the story. No transfer
of Lothian at any time is mentioned in the Chronicles, yet we know that
a transfer did take place at some time. The positive argument from the
statement of the Chronicles is always the strongest that can be found;
the negative argument from their silence is, under varying
circumstances, of every degree of strength and weakness. Here it seems
easily accounted for. The Chroniclers are at all times somewhat
capricious in their mention or neglect of Scottish affairs. They mention
neither the victory of Durham nor the defeat of Carham. And the reigns
of Eadgar and Cnut, the periods with which we are immediately concerned,
are periods in which the Chronicles are decidedly meagre, as compared
with their minute narratives of the reigns of Æthelred and of Eadward
the Confessor.
How thoroughly English Lothian was held to be long after either date
assigned to the cession appears from the words of the Chronicler, 1091;
“Melcolm ... for mid his fyrde ut of Scotlande into Loðene on
Englaland.” Florence translates “Northymbriam invasit.” One would like
to know whether the “xii. villæ quas in Anglia sub patre illius
[Willelmi Rufi sc.] habuerat [Malcolmus]” (Flor. Wig. 1091) were in
Lothian or where.
NOTE K. pp. 75, 117.
EALDORMEN AND KINGS.
The description of the oldest Teutonic constitution given by Cæsar
(Bell. Gall. vi. 23) tells us, “In pace nullus est communis magistratus;
sed principes regionum atque pagorum inter suos jus dicunt.” This seems
to imply a government by Ealdormen as distinguished from one by Kings.
_Pagus_ is the _Gau_ or Shire. So Dio (lxxi. 11), describing the German
embassies to Marcus, says, οἱ μὲν κατὰ γένη, οἱ δὲ καὶ κατὰ ἔθνη
ἐπρεσβεύσαντο. But Tacitus (Germ. 25, 44) seems to distinguish the
tribes “quæ regnantur” from others. So Arminius was suspected of aiming
at royalty (Ann. ii. 88); “Regnum adfectans, libertatem popularium
adversam habuit.” So Bæda (v. 10) describes the Old-Saxons at the end of
the seventh century. They had no King, but _Satraps_, that is doubtless
_Ealdormen_; in war-time one Satrap was chosen as a common commander,
but his superiority ended with the conclusion of peace. “Non enim habent
regem iidem Antiqui Saxones, sed satrapas plurimos suæ genti præpositos,
qui ingruente belli articulo mittunt æqualiter sortes, et quemcumque
sors ostenderit, hunc tempore belli ducem omnes sequuntur, huic
obtemperant; peracto autem bello, rursum æqualis potentiæ omnes fiunt
satrapæ.” I have collected some other analogous cases in the Growth of
the English Constitution, 172–3 (3rd ed.), and Comparative Politics,
414. In Zosimos (iv. 34) Athanaric is ἄρχων and Frithgar ἡγεμών. We may
compare the description of the Alemanni at the battle of Strassburg in
Ammianus, xvi. 12. Chnodomarius, the Bretwalda, so to speak, comes
first, then some other chiefs by name; “Hos sequebantur potestate
proximi reges numero quinque, _regalesque_ decem et optimatum series
magna.” Are the _regales_ Æthelings, or are they _subreguli_,
_undercyningas_, _ealdormen_?
With regard to the Kentishmen and the West-Saxons, the case seems
perfectly clear. We read of the Jutes in the Chronicles, 449, “Heora
_heretogan_ wæron twegen gebroðra, Hengest and Horsa.” Here _heretogan_
translates the _duces_ of Bæda, i. 15. And of the West-Saxons in 495,
“Her comen twegen _ealdormen_ on Brytene Cerdic and Cynric his súnu.”
Afterwards in 519 we find nearly the same words applied to them as to
Ida, “Her Cerdic and Cynric Westseaxena _rice_ onfengon.” The word
_rice_ I take to mark the change from ealdormanship to kingship. Between
the two dates, in 514, is placed the reinforcement under Stuf and
Wihtgar. The temporary change from Kings back again to Ealdormen is
distinctly asserted by Bæda, iv. 12; “Quumque mortuus esset
Coinvalch ... acceperunt subreguli regnum gentis, et divisum inter se
tenuerunt annis circiter decem.... Devictis atque amotis subregulis,
Cædualla suscepit imperium.” The Chronicles however give an
uninterrupted succession of Kings during this time. In 672 Cenwealh
dies; his widow Sexburh succeeds—a most rare case of a female reign.
Then follow Æscwine in 674, Centwine in 676, Ceadwalla in 685. The
change from Ealdormen to Kings in Mercia and East-Anglia is also plainly
marked in the remarkable passage of Henry of Huntingdon which I quoted
in page 26. And we may with all likelihood, as I there said, assert much
the same of Northumberland. But between the case of Wessex and the case
of Mercia or Northumberland there would be this difference. In Mercia,
and probably in Northumberland, a number of small but quite independent
kingdoms or ealdormanships were brought in under the power of a single
conqueror, while in Wessex, though there were several Kings at once, a
certain national unity was never lost. The change therefore from Kings
back again to Ealdormen was possible in Wessex, where it was merely a
change in the form of government; in Mercia it would have been the utter
dissolution of every tie between the different parts of the country.
The history of the Lombards affords in this respect a singular parallel
to the history of the West-Saxons. According to Paul Warnefrid (Gest.
Langob. i. 14, ap. Muratori, i. 413), they were at first governed by
Dukes, but afterwards they chose a King; “Nolentes jam ultra Langobardi
esse sub ducibus, regem sibi ad ceterarum instar gentium statuerunt.”
There is no reason to doubt the fact, though it is placed in a mythical
age, and though Paul the Deacon is evidently thinking of Saul and the
Hebrews. Indeed the change from Judges and “Dukes” to Kings among the
Hebrews and Edomites is only another instance of the same law. At a
later time, after their settlement in Italy, the Lombards fell back
again from Kings to Dukes or Ealdormen. Paul Warn. ii. 32; “Post cujus
[Cleph] mortem, Langobardi per annos decem regem non habentes sub
ducibus fuerunt. Unusquisque enim ducum [there were thirty of them] suam
civitatem obtinebat.” (See Allen, Royal Prerogative, 165.) In comparing
these Lombard revolutions with those of the West-Saxons and Old-Saxons,
it should not be forgotten that a considerable body of Saxons is said
(Paul Warn. ii. 6) to have taken a part in the Lombard invasion of
Italy. But parallels may be found in very distant times and places.
Compare the twelve Kings of Egypt in the second Book of Herodotus.
That _Heretoga_ and _Ealdorman_ express the same office in different
aspects, there can, I think, be no doubt. See Kemble, Saxons in England,
ii. 126. I do not however understand Mr. Kemble’s meaning when he says;
“The word Heretoga is nowhere found in the Saxon Chronicle, and, to the
best of my remembrance, but once in the Charters.” Besides the passage
above quoted, it is found in the Chronicles under the years 794 (of
Danish pirates), 993 (of English commanders), 1003 (in a proverb), 1121
(of a Duke of Lotharingia). I have not looked through all the Charters
for the purpose, but it is used in three successive grants of Bishop
Oswald (Cod. Dipl. iii. 259, 260, 262) to express an Ealdorman of the
Mercians.
We have just seen _Heretoga_ used in English to translate the High-Dutch
_Herzog_; but the Dukes and Counts of Gaul commonly appear in the
Chronicles as _Eorlas_. _Eorl_ however, as the later equivalent of
_Ealdorman_, is also equivalent to _Heretoga_. Ælfred uses _Heretoga_ to
translate the Latin _Consul_, just as, in return, Gaulish Counts and
English Ealdormen are constantly spoken of as _Consules_.
On the use of _Ealdor_, _Ealdorman_, _Yldestan_ _þegnas_, to express
simply rank and office without any reference to actual age, and for
analogous uses in other languages, see Kemble, ii. 128; Heywood’s Ranks
of the People, 53; Schmid’s Glossary under _Eald_, _Ealdorman_, &c.;
Comparative Politics, 366. We have _Ealdorapostol_, _Ealdorbiscop_, and
even, if I mistake not, _Ealdordeofol_. Kemble compares the use of
_Senatus_, γέρων, πρεσβύτερος, and the feudal use of _Senior_,
_Seigneur_. Πρέσβυς in the sense of Ambassador may be added to the list,
and the Latin _Patres_, _Patricius_, express the same general idea. In
the same spirit the Ealdorman’s deputy is called his _Younger_; see
Ælfred’s Laws, 38, § 2 (Schmid, 92); “gif þises hwæt beforan cyninges
ealdormonnes _gingran_ gelimpe, oððe cyninges preôste,” etc. So Lewis
the Pious (Waitz, iv. 262, 368) speaks to his officials of “vos et
juniores vestri, juniores et ministeriales vestri.”
_Hlaford_, as equivalent, or perhaps something more than equivalent, to
_Ealdorman_, seems peculiar to Æthelred of Mercia (see above, p. 382),
though of course the word may be applied to an Ealdorman, as it is to
Brihtnoth in the Song of Maldon, with reference to those persons to whom
he was personally _hlaford_. _Eorl_, I need hardly say, supplanted
_Ealdorman_ in later times. The older English meaning of the word _Eorl_
has been already explained. The later special sense in which it is
equivalent to _Ealdorman_ came in with the Danes, whose leaders had
always been called _Jarls_. The governors of Northumberland, after the
incorporation under Eadred, certainly bore the Danish title. Urm,
Andcol, Uhtred (the ancestor of a long line of Northumberland Earls),
Grim, and Scule, all seemingly Northumbrian chiefs, sign a charter of
Eadred in 949 (Cod. Dipl. ii. 292) with the title of _Eorl_. The same
title is applied to Oslac both in the Chronicles under 975 (“Oslac se
mæra eorl”), and in the laws of Eadgar (Thorpe, i. 278), where the
_Earl_ Oslac seems to be pointedly distinguished from the _Ealdormen_
Ælfhere of Mercia and Æthelwine of East-Anglia. So in the Chronicles for
992 “Ælfric _ealdorman_” (the well-known Ælfric, of whom more in Note
CC) is no less pointedly distinguished from “Þored _eorl_.” But when the
word _Eorl_ is found in this sense in the Chronicles at an earlier date,
it is always a sign of later insertion. (See Earle, p. 38.) Whether the
title was in use throughout the Denalagu is less clear. Brihtnoth is
called _Eorl_ in the poem of Maldon; but this may be a poetical use. He
is also called _Ealdor_ in the wide sense in the poem itself, as well as
_Ealdorman_ in various documents and in the Chronicles. On the other
hand the Chronicles constantly speak of _Ealdormen_, even in Danish
districts like Lindesey; but this may be an accommodation to Southern
language, and they do so even when speaking of Northumberland. In the
purely Saxon districts there can be no doubt that the ancient title of
_Ealdorman_ went on uninterruptedly, till, under Cnut, _Eorl_ gradually
supplanted it everywhere. See p. 407.
That birth was of less importance in the case of an Ealdorman than in
the case of a King appears from the well-known words of Tacitus (Germ.
7), “Reges ex nobilitate, Duces ex virtute sumunt.” This is most
curiously illustrated in the Song of Brunanburh, where seven earls of
the Danes are killed and five _young_ kings (“Fife lagon On ðæm
campstede Ciningas geonge”). The King ruling “ex nobilitate” might be
young; the Earl ruling “ex virtute” was likely to be old.
On this whole subject of the origin and growth of kingship see the
Authorities and Illustrations to Allen on the Royal Prerogative.
NOTE L. p. 78.
ORIGIN OF THE WORD _KING_.
It is enough for my purpose that the word _Cyning_ is closely connected
with the word _Cyn_. (See Allen, Royal Prerogative, 176; Kemble, i.
153.) That the two words are of the same origin, as is shown by a whole
crowd of cognates, _cynebarn_, _cynecyn_, _cynedom_, _cynehelm_,
_cyne-hlaford_ (used in the Chronicles, a. 1014, as equivalent to
_gecynde hlaford_), _cynelice_, _cynerice_, _cynestol_. (I copy from Mr.
Earle’s Glossarial Index.) In all these words _cyn_ has the meaning of
royal. What little I venture to say on the remote Aryan affinities of
the word I have said in Comparative Politics, 450, Growth of the English
Constitution, 172.
The modern High-Dutch _König_ is an odd corruption; but the elder form
is _Chuninc_. The word has never had an English feminine; _Queen_ is
simply _cwen_, woman, wife, the same as the Greek γυνή, but in Wessex,
from the days of Beorhtric to those of William, _Cwen_ most rarely
occurs (Chron. 855 and Chron. Petrib. 1043, though in both these
passages it may simply mean _wife_); _Hlæfdige_ (see above, p. 575) is
the regular title.
Sir Francis Palgrave’s attempt (ii. cccxli.) to derive the word from a
Celtic root _Cen_ (_head_), to say nothing of other objections, could
not account for the use of the word among the Teutonic nations on the
Continent. Still more ludicrous is the notion of the King being the
_canning_ or _cunning_ man, an idea which could have occurred only to a
mind on which all Teutonic philology was thrown away. It is however as
old as Sir Thomas Smith, who, in the Commonwealth of England (pp. 9, 10)
says, “That which we cal in one sillable king in English, the old
Englishmen, and the Saxons, from whom our tongue is derived, to this day
call in two sillables, _cyning_, which whether it commeth of _cen_ or
_ken_, which betokeneth to know and understand, or _can_, which
betokeneth to be able, or to have power, I cannot tel.”
The connexion of _Cyning_ with _Cyn_ is closely analogous to the
connexion of the word _Þeoden_ (the Gothic _Þiudans_) with _Þeod_ (see
Kemble, i. 152) and that of _Drihten_ with _Driht_. In all these cases
the ruler takes his name from those whom he rules.
The origin of the word is curiously illustrated in Cardinal Pole’s
exposition of the nature of kingship, quoted in Froude’s History of
England, iii. 34. “‘What is a king?’ he asks. ‘A king exists for the
sake of his people; he is an outcome from Nature in labour [partus
naturæ laborantis]; an institution for the defence of material and
temporal interests.... In human society are three grades—the people—the
priesthood, the head and husband of the people—_the king, who is the
child_ [populus enim regem procreat], the creature, and minister of the
other two.’”
One can hardly suspect Pole of any Teutonic scholarship, but if he had
not the true derivation of the word _king_ before his eyes, the
coincidence is remarkable. Not very unlike is the speech of Philip Pot,
Great Seneschal of Burgundy in the States General of Tours in 1484. “La
royauté est une dignité et non un héritage. Dans l’origine, le peuple
souverain créa des rois pour son utilité.” De Cherrier, Histoire de
Charles VIII. i. 76.
NOTE M. p. 78.
KING OF ENGLAND OR KING OF THE ENGLISH?
It is most curious to see how very modern are those territorial titles
which, for some centuries past, European Kings have thought good to
assume. In Greek we always find a national sovereign described by the
national style; it is always Λακεδαιμονίων, Μακεδόνων, even Περσῶν and
Μήδων, βασιλεύς. In Livy (xxxi. 14, xxxv. 13) we no doubt read of
“Antiochus rex Syriæ” and “Ptolemæus rex Ægypti.” But this is of course,
because the kingship of the Ptolemies and Seleucidæ was so utterly
unnational that any but a territorial description would have been
absurd. In fact it is a description and not a title. As a description of
this kind, the words “Rex Franciæ” actually occur as early as the tenth
century. (Flodoard, A. 924.) But this is not a formal title; it is
merely the annalist’s vague way of describing or pointing at a prince
who had as yet no formal title. If one Rudolf is “Rex Franciæ,” in the
very same year another Rudolf is “Cisalpinæ rex Galliæ,” which certainly
never was the formal title of any man. The truth is that, throughout the
ninth and tenth centuries, the various Frankish Kings had no formal
title beyond the vague “Rex Francorum,” common to all of them. The
Chroniclers had therefore to describe each King as they might, just as
the sons of Charles the Great are indifferently called “Rex super
Aquitaniam,” or “Italiam,” Ann. Laur. 781 (Pertz, i. 32); “Rex in
Aquitania,” Ann. Egin. 781, and “Aquitaniæ Rex” (ib. 813). But when the
French Kings adopted a formal title, _Rex Francorum Christianissimus_
was the style down to the end of the line of Valois. _Franciæ et Navarræ
Rex_ came in with Henry of Bourbon. When the ancient style was revived
in 1791, and again in 1830, many people seem to have thought it a
strange innovation.
In both Empires, down to the last days of each, the style is always
“Romanorum Imperator,” Ῥωμαίων βασιλεύς. It is only late in the
thirteenth century, and when a prince has to be described by his
dominions, that we find such a title as the Trapezuntine style πιστὸς
βασιλεὺs καὶ αὐτοκράτωρ Ἀνατολής, Ἰβήρων, καὶ Περατείας. (Finlay,
Mediæval Greece and Trebizond, 370.) In earlier days Charles the Great
was “Patricius Romanorum.”
In England it would seem that Cnut, and Cnut alone before the Norman
Conquest, did call himself “King of England.” In the Preface to his Laws
(Thorpe, i. 358; Schmid, 250) he is called “Cnut cyningc, ealles
Englalandes cyningc, and Dena cyningc and Norðrigena cyningc.” In the
letter from Rome in Florence (1031) he calls himself “Rex totius Angliæ
et Denemarciæ et Norreganorum et partis Suanorum.” In a doubtful charter
(Cod. Dipl. iv. 50) he is “Rex totius Angliæ regni atque Danorum;” “Cing
ealles Englelandes and ealre Dene.” In two most doubtful charters (Cod.
Dipl. iv. 25, 41) he is “Kining of Ænglelande,” and “Rex totius Angliæ
et Danmarchiæ et Norwagiæ et magnæ partis Swavorum.” In other charters
he is either “Rex Anglorum” (as Florence calls him when speaking in his
own person) or else he assumes the Imperial style.
It has been suggested that Cnut took up his territorial style as being a
conqueror of the land, not a native monarch of the people. But the above
instances show that, though he fluctuates between the two forms, he
makes no consistent distinction between his hereditary and his acquired
kingdoms. Moreover Cnut, like William, was formally elected King, and he
was even less likely than William to assume any title which would be
offensive to his English subjects. This makes one inclined to look a
little further. In the most authentic documents, _Anglia_, _Englaland_,
does not occur without a qualification; the words are “_totius_ Angliæ,”
“_ealles_ Englalandes.” Is this description so distinctly and
unmistakeably territorial as the later forms, “Rex Angliæ,” “King of
England”? The _totius_, the _ealles_, strikes me as making a difference.
It may show that what is meant is, not “King of England” in the later
sense, but “King over the whole land of the English,” as distinguished
from Cnut’s earlier and narrower dominion while the kingdom was divided
between him and Eadmund. But anyhow Cnut stands alone before the Norman
Conquest in the use of this style. After the Conquest “Rex Angliæ”
begins to creep in, but at first very rarely. William himself is all but
invariably “Rex Anglorum.” Richard is the first King who is
systematically “Rex Angliæ” in his charters, and even he is “Rex
Anglorum” on his seal. And during his reign his mother stuck to the old
style “Regina Anglorum.” The final innovation of “Rex Angliæ” on the
seal is due to King John. See Allen, p. 51.
In everything, in short, belonging to our old days it is the people who
stand forth and not the mere land. In fact, except in the case of old
geographical names like Gaul and Britain, the land can hardly be said to
have a being or a name apart from the people. The land is simply called
by the name of the people, like Lokroi and Leontinoi in Greek geography,
like Franken and Hessen in Germany. So in our Chronicles, in the year
774, we read “gefuhton Myrce and Cantwara,” where _Myrce_ is clearly the
people; but in 796 we read “hine læddon on Myrce,” where we must take
_Myrce_ for the country. On the use of the name _Englaland_ I shall
speak in Note T.
On this modern notion of “territorial sovereignty,” see Maine, Ancient
Law, 103. He remarks that “territorial titles were not unknown, but they
seem at first to have come into use only as a convenient mode of
describing the ruler of a _portion_; the king of a _whole_ tribe was
king of his people, not of his people’s lands.” This is, I suppose, the
“rex super Aquitaniam,” and the like.
NOTE N. pp. 91, 122.
COMMENDATION.
On the subject of Commendation a good deal will be found in Hallam’s
Middle Ages (i. 114, edition 1846), and still more in the Supplementary
Notes (p. 118; and see specially Waitz, iv. 204). By the time of
Æthelstan a lordless man seems to have become something exceptional, and
to have needed special legislation (see Æthelstan’s Laws in Schmid, 132.
“Be hlâfordleâsum mannum”). The passages from the Capitularies quoted by
Hallam imply the necessity of every man seeking a lord, though they
leave to him the right of choosing what lord he will seek. There is
another remarkable Capitulary of Lewis the Pious in the year 815 (Baluz.
i. 552), in which the Emperor grants the power of Commendation, as an
accustomed right of his own subjects, to the Spanish Christians who had
taken refuge within his dominions from the oppression of the Saracens;
“Noverint tamen iidem Hispani sibi licentiam a nobis esse concessam ut
se in vassaticum commitibus nostris more solito commendet. Et si
beneficium aliquod quisquam eorum ab eo cui se commendavit fuerit
consequutus, sciat se de illo tali obsequium seniori suo exhibere debere
quale nostrates homines de simili beneficio senioribus suis exhibere
solent.” This is remarkable as showing the distinction between the
personal Commendation of a man to his lord and the grant of a feudal
benefice by that lord. The grant is not necessarily implied, but it is
looked on as something which is likely to follow. “Commendati homines”
are often mentioned in Domesday, and there are numberless phrases which
come to the same thing, though the exact words are not used. There is
one very curious story in Hertfordshire (136 _b_), where a certain
Godwine held lands for a life or lives of the church of Westminster, but
after his death his widow illegally transferred the lordship of the
lands to Eadgifu the Fair. “Hanc terram tenuit Godwinus de ecclesia
Sancti Petri; non potuit vendere, sed post mortem ejus debebat ad
ecclesiam redire, ut hundreda testatur; sed uxor ejus cum hac terra
vertit se per vim ad Eddevam pulcram, et tenebat ea die qua Edwardus rex
fuit vivus et mortuus.” This Godwine who could not sell his land is
distinguished from various “homines” of Eadgifu “qui potuerunt vendere.”
See more in vol. v. p. 885.
This process of seeking a lord we find described in the Laws of Ælfred
(37, Schmid 90), where the proper formalities are described; “Gif mon
wille of bold-getale in oðer bold-getæl hlâford sêcan, dô þæt mid þæs
ealdormonnes gewitnesse þe he ǽr in his scire folgode.” And this phrase
of _seeking_ or _choosing_ a lord is the very phrase which is used to
express the international commendation of Wales and Scotland to the
English King. In the Chronicles, 922, we read of Eadward, “and þa
cyningas on Norþ Wealum, Howel and Cledauc and Ieoþwel, and eall Norþ
Weallcyn _hine sohton him to hlaforde_.” And in the famous passage which
describes the great commendation of 924 (see above, p. 576) the words
are, “_hine geces þa to fæder and to hlaforde_ Scotta cyning,” &c.
Of the use of the word as applied on an international scale there is an
early instance in the letter of Pope Stephen to Pippin (Waitz, iii. 84;
cf. 87), where he says, “tam ipsi Spoletani quamque etiam Beneventani
omnes _se commendare_ per nos a Deo servatæ excellentiæ tuæ cupiunt.”
But the best setting forth of the doctrine between sovereign princes is
to be found in the words which Dudo (128 D) puts into the mouth of Hugh
the Great, when he explains to young Richard the need of seeking a lord;
“Hugo vero Magnus intelligens animadvertisse utrumque affectum
voluntatis suæ, aperta cordis sui intentione dicitur respondisse: ‘Non
est quippe mos Franciæ, ut quislibet princeps duxve constipatus
abundantius tanto milite perseveret cunctis diebus taliter in dominio
ditionis suæ, ut non aut famulatu voluntatis suæ, aut coactus vi et
potestate, incumbat acclivius Imperatori, vel regi, ducive: et si forte
perseveraverit in temeritate audaciæ suæ, ut non famularetur alicui
volenter præcopiosa ubertate sufficientiæ suæ; solent ei rixæ
dissentionesque atque casus innumerabilis detrimenti sæpissime accidere.
Quapropter si placuisset Richardo duci tuo nepoti seipsum flectere ut
militaret mihi, vestro saluberrimo consilio sponte filiam meam connubio
illi jungerem; et terræ, quam hereditario jure possidet, continuus
defensor et adjutor contra omnes adessem.’”
NOTE O. p. 91.
GROWTH OF THE THEGNHOOD.
I cannot forbear transcribing the passage in which Mr. Kemble (Saxons in
England, i. 183) sums up the general results of the growth of the
Thegnhood. “As the royal power steadily advanced by his assistance, and
the old, national nobility of birth, as well as the old, landed freeman
sunk into a lower rank, the gesið found himself rising in power and
consideration proportioned to that of his chief: the offices which had
passed from the election of the freemen to the gift of the crown, were
now conferred upon him, and the ealdorman, duke, geréfa, judge, and even
the bishop, were at length selected from the ranks of the comitatus.
Finally, the nobles by birth themselves became absorbed in the
ever-widening whirlpool; day by day the freemen, deprived of their old
national defences, wringing with difficulty a precarious subsistence
from incessant labour, sullenly yielded to a yoke which they could not
shake off, and commended themselves (such was the phrase) to the
protection of a lord; till a complete change having thus been operated
in the opinions of men, and consequently in every relation of society, a
new order of things was consummated, in which the honours and security
of service became more anxiously desired than a needy and unsafe
freedom; and the alods being finally surrendered, to be taken back as
_beneficia_, under mediate lords, the foundations of the royal, feudal
system were securely laid on every side.”
The supplanting of an older by a newer form of nobility has several
parallels in history. The distinction between _patricii_ and _nobiles_
at Rome has some analogies to the distinction between _eorlas_ and
_þegnas_ in England. The plebeian could not become patrician, but he
could become noble; and this plebeian nobility, derived from the
possession of curule magistracies, answered to our thegnhood in being a
nobility of office, though in this case it was office conferred by the
people and not by a King or other lord. See more in Comparative
Politics, 246–270. On the growth of the official _comitatus_ in the
courts of the Frankish Kings and Emperors see the chapter of Waitz (iii.
410), “Der Hof und die Reichsversammlung.” He comments on the difference
between this and the earlier _comitatus_; but both are instances of the
same principle. See also iv. 278 of the same work, “Dabei wird immer
auch auf Abstammung, Ansehn des Geschlechtes Werth gelegt; aber ein
bestimmter rechtlicher Vorzug war damit nicht verbunden.” He has
collected a great number of cases of the use of the word _nobilis_ and
other equivalent words in the Carolingian age, that is to say, just at
the point when the old notion of nobility had come to an end and when
the new one had not fully developed itself. In that immediate stage
nobility means simply to have meant free birth, or at all events free
birth combined with the possession of land.
NOTE P. p. 95.
GRANTS OF FOLKLAND.
I hope to say something more in my fifth volume about the tenure of land
in England. I will here only give one or two specimens of the form of
these grants.
In 977 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 157) King Eadward makes a grant to Ælfric (which
Ælfric?) in these terms; “Aliquam partem terræ juris mei perpetuali
donatione libenter concedo cuidam fideli meo ministro [þegn] vocitato
nomine Ælfric, ob illius amabile obsequium dignatus sum largiri.” He is
to have it in full property, with the right of bequest, and to hold it
free of all services “exceptis istis tribus, expeditione, pontis arcisve
munitione.” So Æthelred in 982 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 188) grants “ruris
quamdam sed communem portionem, quam hujus nationis indigenæ usitato æt
Stoce nuncupant onomate, cuipiam mihi _pisticâ_ [one thinks of the
πιστοί in the Persians of Æschylus] devotione subnixo vocitamine
Leofrico.” The grantee is to have full power of bequest, and to hold the
land “ab omni terrenæ servitutis jugo liberum, excepta expeditione,
pontis arcisve restauratione.” Fearful curses are imprecated on any one
who shall disturb the grantees in their possessions.
Bishops make grants to their own thegns of Church lands to be held for
one, two, or three lives, and then to revert to the Church. The Codex
contains a great many grants of this kind made by Bishop Oswald, the
grant being made by leave of the King and of the reigning Ealdorman of
the Mercians. In one, in English, which immediately follows the grant to
Ælfric (iii. 159), we find the _trinoda necessitas_ duly excepted. “Sie
hit ǽlces þinges freoh búton ferdfare and walgeworc and brygcgeworc and
cyrcanláde.”
The consent of the Witan is marked in the grant to Leofric by the words
“his testibus consentientibus quorum inferius nomina caraxantur.” So
Eadgar (iii. 153) makes a grant “optimatum meorum utens consilio,” &c.,
&c.
The Codex Diplomaticus is of course the great storehouse of knowledge on
this subject.
NOTE Q. p. 101.
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE WITENAGEMÓT.
I conceive that my notions about the Witenagemót do not differ
essentially from those of Mr. Kemble. The process by which a primary
Assembly in a large country naturally shrinks up into a small official
or aristocratic body could not be better drawn out than they are in his
chapter on the Witenagemót (Saxons in England, ii. 191 et seqq.). He
winds up (p. 195) with the words; “At what exact period the change I
have attempted to describe was effected, is neither very easy to
determine nor very material. It was probably very gradual, and very
partial; indeed it may never have been formally recognized, for here and
there we find evident traces of the people’s being present at, and
ratifying the decisions of the Witan.” In a note on the next page Mr.
Kemble goes on to refute the strange notion of Sir Francis Palgrave (ii.
ccclxxxvi.) that a property qualification was needed for a seat in the
Witenagemót. In fact Mr. Kemble’s remarks are all that could be wished,
if he had only brought forward more clearly some of those “evident
traces” to which he cursorily alludes.
I will try, partly at least, to fill up the gap. Take for instance the
very beginning of recorded English legislation, the Dooms of Æthelberht
(Thorpe, i. 2); “Gif cyning his _leode_ to him gehated.” _Leode_ here
surely means _people_ in the widest sense. So in the Preface to the Laws
of Wihtræd (p. 36); “Ðær þa eadigan fundon _mid ealra gemedum_ þas
domas.” The great men propose, the people accept, just as in the
_concilia_ described by Tacitus. So the deposition of Sigeberht in 755
(of which more in the next Note) was, according to Henry of Huntingdon
(M. H. B. 729 C), who is clearly following some earlier writer, the act
of the whole West-Saxon people; “Congregati sunt proceres et _populus
totius regni_, et provida deliberatione et _unanimi consensu omnium_
expulsus est a regno. Kinewlf vero, juvenis egregius de regia stirpe
oriundus, electus est in regem.” So the “Decretum Episcoporum et aliorum
sapientum de Kancia,” addressed to Æthelstan (Thorpe, i. 216), whatever
its exact bearing, is drawn up in the name of the “thaini, comites
[eorlas], et _villani_ [ceorlas].” So the “Judicia Civitatis Lundoniæ”
(p. 228, Schmid, 156) are confirmed by all, “ægder ge eorlisce ge
ceorlisce,” in the Latin “comites et villani.” So in the Chronicles a
popular element is often mentioned in the election of Kings and in other
national acts. In 959 Eadgar was, according to Florence, “ab omni
Anglorum populo electus.” In 1016 Eadmund is chosen by the Witan and the
citizens (burhwaru) of London. So in 1036 Harold the First is chosen by
most of the thegns north of Thames and by the _liðsmen_ or sailors of
London. In 1041 “_all folk_ chose Eadward to King.” So in 1066 Harold
took the kingdom “as _men_ chose him thereto.” So in 1048, when Godwine
proposes to interfere in the wars of the North, “hit þuhte unræd _eallum
folce_.” So too Godwine, on his return in 1052, makes his speech in the
_Mycel Gemót_ “wið Eadward cyng his hlaford and wið _ealle landleodan_.”
So with regard to a local body, in the account of a Scirgemót of
Herefordshire in Cod. Dipl. iv. 54, though the thegns (“ealle ða þegnas
on Herefordscíre”) are mentioned in a special way, yet the final
judgement is given by the popular voice—“be _ealles ðæs folces_ leáfe
and gewitnesse.” With regard to the action of the citizens of London,
the case no doubt simply was that they, being on the spot, could assert
this right, which others at a distance could not do. But it must be
remembered that till the eleventh century the Witan did not commonly
meet either in London or in any other of the chief towns. Possibly, when
a Gemót was held at Winchester or Exeter, the citizens of those towns
would hold the same position as the Londoners did when the Gemót was
held in their city. Something of this kind seems to be referred to in a
charter of Æthelstan (Cod. Dipl. ii. 194) of the year 934—a charter
remarkable on other grounds from the vast number of signatures,
including four vassal Kings, and evidently passed in what was indeed a
_Mycel Gemót_. It is given “in civitate opinatissima [sic] quæ
Winteceaster nuncupatur, tota populi generalitate sub alis regiæ
dapsilitatis ovanti.” The citizens both of London and of Winchester seem
to be mentioned as electors of Kings as late as the accession of
Stephen. (See W. Malms., Hist. Nov. i. 11.) Even as late as 1461, Edward
Earl of March was elected King by a tumultuous assembly of the citizens
of London, and the citizens were foremost in the revolution which placed
Richard the Third on the throne in 1483. These elections are fully
described in Hall’s Chronicle, pp. 253, 372. (See Growth of English
Constitution, 204.) And that of Edward comes out well in the Collections
of a London Citizen (Camden Society), 215, where we read how the Earl of
March “enteryed unto the cytte of London, and there he toke uppon hym
the crowne of Inglond by the avysse of the lordys spyrytual and
temporalle, and by the _elexyon of the comyns_. And so he be-gan hys
rayne.” These are plainly the last traces of the right which the
citizens had more regularly exercised in the elections of Eadmund
Ironside and of Harold the son of Cnut.
These passages seem distinctly to imply that every freeman had a
theoretical right to attend. Some of the expressions used might be
applied without impropriety to a representative assembly; but they could
not be applied to a body not representative, unless, in theory at least,
it took in the whole nation. These passages prove also that some form of
demanding the assent of the people at large was always retained. But the
retention of some such usage is almost proved, without going any
further, by the custom which still exists of presenting the King at his
coronation for the acceptance of the people (see vol. iii. Appendix E).
This is at once the last trace of our elective monarchy, and the last
vestige of the ancient right of the Teutonic freeman to take a direct
part in the affairs of the nation. We may see the working of the same
process on the continent in what Waitz, iii. 56, says of the Frankish
Assemblies under the Karlings; “Das Volk, oder die Grossen, welche auf
den allgemeinen Versammlungen im Namen des Volkes handelten.” But in the
quasi-official language of Einhard (Vita Kar. 1) it is “publicus populi
sui conventus,” and the Continuator of Fredegar (117 a, 752) speaks of
the change of dynasty as made “cum consilio omnium Francorum.”
The charter of 934, which I have just quoted, starts a point of quite
another kind, namely the question as to the attendance of the vassal
Celtic princes in the English Witenagemót. On this I have said something
in p. 132. The attendance of the Welsh Kings is not uncommon, especially
in the reign of Æthelstan. They often sign charters with the titles of
_subregulus_ or _undercyning_. See the signatures, ranging from 930 to
956 (Cod. Dipl. ii. 170, 173, 193, 196, 203, 292, 304, 326, 413; v. 199,
208, 217), of the _subreguli_ Howel, Morcant, Owen, Juthwal, Tudor,
Syferth, Jacob, Jukil, and Wurgeat. The Cumbrian signatures are rarer,
but we have those of Eugenius in 931 (v. 199) and 937 (ii. 203), and of
Malcolm in 966 and 970 (ii. 413, iii. 59). The signature of Kenneth of
Scotland is attached to three charters (Cod. Dipl. ii. 413, iii. 69;
Palgrave, ii. ccli. cclii.), but the authenticity of all three has been
suspected. Still his presence at the great ceremony at Chester shows
that the appearance of the King of Scots in the Witenagemót was a thing
that might be looked for. The treaty between Richard the First and
William the Lion, by which the novel claims of Henry the Second were
given up, contains elaborate rules for the reception of the King of
Scots on his way to the King’s court as due of ancient custom (Palgrave,
ii. cccxxxix.).
NOTE R. p. 106.
THE RIGHT OF THE WITAN TO DEPOSE THE KING.
Mr. Kemble (ii. 219) formally reckons among the powers of the Witan that
they “had the power to depose the King, if his government was not
conducted for the benefit of the people.” He adds that “it is obvious
that the very existence of this power would render its exercise an event
of very rare occurrence.” He then goes on to discuss the case of
Sigeberht at length, and adds, “I have little doubt that an equally
formal, though hardly equally justifiable, proceeding severed Mercia
from Eádwig’s kingdom, and reconstituted it as a separate state under
Eádgár; and lastly from Simeon of Durham we learn that the Northumbrian
Alchred was deposed and exiled, with the counsel and consent of all his
people.”
This last Northumbrian case is worth notice, as showing that a perfectly
legal proceeding may lurk under words which at first sight seem to imply
mere violence. The two Chronicles, Worcester and Peterborough, which
record the deposition of Ealhred in the year 774, use the words, “Her
Norðhymbra fordrifon heora cyning Alchred of Eoforwic on Eastertid, and
genamon Æþelred Molles sunu him to hlaforde.” So Florence, “Festi
paschalis tempore Northymbrenses regem suum Alhredum, Molli regis
successorem, Eboraco expulere, filiumque ejusdem regis Molli,
Æthelberhtum, in regem levavere.” This might suggest the notion of a
mere revolutionary act; but the words of Simeon bring out the legal
character of the deposition much more strongly; “Alcredus rex, consilio
et consensu _suorum omnium_, regiæ familiæ ac principum destitutus
societate, exilio imperii mutavit majestatem.” With this new light
before us, we better understand the force of the words of the
Chronicles, “of Eoforwic on Eastertid.” It is plain that Ealhred was
deposed by the Easter Gemót of his kingdom assembled in his capital.
Simeon then goes on to speak of Æthelred as “tanto honore coronatus;”
and it should be noticed that in 779, when he records the expulsion of
Æthelred himself, richly deserved as it was by the treacherous murder of
three of his Ealdormen, he does not use the same legal language;
“Ethelredo expulso de regali solio et in exilio fugato, cogitur mœstos
inire modos miserasque habere querelas. Elfwald vero filius Oswlfi,
Ethelredo expulso, regnum Northanhymbrorum suscepit.” So in the
Chronicles (778), “And þa feng Alfwold to rice and Æþeldred bedraf on
lande.”
To turn to the case of Sigeberht, I have already quoted (see above, p.
400) the words of Henry of Huntingdon, in whose account the legal action
of the nation stands out most clearly; but the consent of the Witan
appears also in all the other accounts. In the Chronicles (755) we read,
“Her Cynewulf benam Sigebryhte his mæge his rices and Wæst-seaxna witan
for unrihtum dædum butan Hamtunscire.” So Florence, “Cynewlfus, de
prosapia Cerdici regis oriundus, auxilium sibi ferentibus West-Saxonicis
primatibus, regem illorum Sigebertum, ob multitudinem suorum iniquorum
factorum, regno exterminavit, et loco ejus regnavit; unam tamen
provinciam, quæ Hantunscire dicitur, eidem concessit.” And even
Æthelweard (ii. 17), who seems to tell the story with a certain royalist
leaning against Cynewulf, witnesses to the same facts; “Post decursum
unius anni ex quo Sigebryht regnare cœperat, cujus regnum invadens
Cynulf abstraxit ab eo, et sapientes totius partis occidentalis
facietenus traxit cum eo propter inconditos actus supradicti regis; nec
illi derelicta pars potestatis nisi provincia una quæ Hamtunscire
nuncupatur.” In this case, as in the case of Ealhred, we may remark the
different colourings given to the same action. The deposition of
Sigeberht was clearly a legal act, but it might be spoken of as an
“invasio,” just as equally legal acts later in our history could be also
spoken of as “invasiones.”
With regard to the separation of Mercia from the kingdom of Eadwig,
spoken of by Mr. Kemble, the whole of Eadwig’s reign is shrouded in such
darkness that, as it forms no part of my immediate subject, I have
rather avoided going into it. But at any rate that separation would
present one point of difference from any of the other cases. As Eadgar
seems to have been Under-king of the Mercians from the death of Eadred,
the act by which the Mercians threw off the authority of Eadwig was
rather the rejection of the supremacy of an over-lord than the
deposition of an immediate sovereign.
Of the other cases which I have mentioned in the text, those which come
within the range of my History I have discussed in their proper places.
Among the later cases, some may have expected to see the names of Henry
the Sixth and Charles the First. But neither of these Kings were, in
strictness of speech, deposed. By deposition I understand an act by
which a King, whose right to be King is acknowledged up to that time,
is, by virtue of such act, declared to be no longer King. This was not
exactly the case with Henry the Sixth. When Richard Duke of York claimed
the crown in preference to Henry, a compromise was made, by which Henry
was to keep the crown for life and Richard was to become his
heir-apparent. It was therefore the Yorkist theory that Henry reigned by
virtue of this agreement, and that, when he afterwards, as was alleged,
broke the agreement, the Crown was thereby forfeited and the Duke became
_de jure_ King. (See Growth of the English Constitution, p. 149.) Yet,
as we have seen, a kind of popular election was thought needful to
confirm the rights of his son. Charles the First, it is still more
clear, was not deposed. He was tried and executed _being King_, a
process of which English history supplies no other example. The
depositions of Edward the Second and Richard the Second are too plain to
need comment. James the Second was clearly deposed in Scotland; whether
the vote against him in England could be strictly called a vote of
deposition is less clear. On the character of this famous vote,
logically so absurd, yet practically so thoroughly adapted to all the
circumstances of the time, see Macaulay, Hist. of Eng. ii. 623. So on
the vote of the Scottish Estates, iii. 285.
I have spoken in the text of that milder form of deposition by which the
King was removed from his authority without being formally removed from
his office. Of this process the simpler forms of our early constitution
will hardly supply an instance, unless we see an approach to it in the
engagement (see p. 368) entered into by Æthelred on his restoration to
rule in all things by the advice of his Witan. But it was done in the
cases of Henry the Third, Edward the Second, and Richard the Second; in
the two latter cases the act was a kind of forewarning of the severer
punishment which was to follow.
It must be remembered that throughout this argument I am dealing with
the legal right of deposition, not with the justice of its exercise in
any particular case. As to Sigeberht, and as to Ealhred too, both of
them clearly deserved their fate, but how far in either case the
West-Saxon and Northumbrian Witan may have been influenced by any
personal intrigues of Cynewulf or Æthelred, who play in the two stories
respectively the part of Henry of Bolingbroke or William of Orange, is
not to the purpose. So too with the later fates of the deposed Kings,
with the certain murder of Edward, the all but certain murder of
Richard, the constitutional question has nothing to do. The deposed
prince was let off the most easily in the earliest case. Sigeberht,
deposed from the kingdom of Wessex, was allowed to retain Hampshire as
Under-king. Having murdered one of his Ealdormen, he was banished
altogether by Cynewulf, the new head King, and he was afterwards killed
by a private enemy.
For instances of deposition among other Teutonic nations see Kemble, ii.
221. The most famous case of all, the deposition of Childeric and
election of Pippin, was somewhat spoiled by the application to the
Bishop of Rome about a matter which it clearly lay within the power of
the Frankish nation to settle without his interference.
NOTE S. p. 107.
THE ELECTION OF KINGS.
Some passages bearing on the election of Kings by the Witan, that is in
truth by the people, have been already quoted (see above, p. 602). At
every stage of my history I shall have to call attention to the way in
which the right of free election was carried out in practice. But it is
worth while to point out how long the old Teutonic feeling survived, and
at how late a time it was still formally put forth as a constitutional
principle. Nowhere can a better exposition of the ancient doctrine as to
the election of Kings be found than in the speech which Matthew Paris
(Chronica Majora, ii. 454, ed. Luard) puts into the mouth of Archbishop
Hubert at the election of King John. Whether the speech is Hubert’s or
Matthew’s matters little; or rather, if it be Matthew’s own, it is the
more valuable, as carrying on the ancient tradition still later. No one
has any right to be King unless he be chosen by the whole people of the
land on account of his merits (“nullus prævia ratione alii succedere
habet regnum, nisi ab _universitate regni_ unanimiter, invocata Spiritus
gratia, electus”), but if any member of the royal family be worthy, he
is to be preferred to any one else (“verum si quis ex stirpe regis
defuncti aliis præpolleret, pronius et promptius in electionem ejus est
consentiendum”). The preamble is excellent, but the practical inference
is strange, namely that Duke John, for his many virtues, should be
chosen King. With this speech, made by, or attributed to, an English
Archbishop, we may compare the similar doctrine of elective monarchy
laid down by a French Archbishop, Adalbero of Rheims, at the election of
Hugh Capet in 987; “Non ignoramus Karolum fautores suos habere, qui eum
dignum regno ex parentum collatione contendant. Sed si de hoc agitur,
_nec regnum jure hæreditario adquiritur_, nec in regnum promovendus est
nisi quem non solum corporis nobilitas, sed et animi sapientia
illustrat, fides munit, magnanimitas firmat. Legimus in annalibus,
clarissimi generis Imperatoribus ignavia ab dignitate præcipitatis,
alios modo pares, modo impares successisse.” (Richer, iv. 11.) So again
the combination of the elective and hereditary principles, as found in
all the old Teutonic kingdoms, is well set forth by Rudolf Glaber, i. 3;
“Totius regni primates _elegerunt_ Ludovicum, filium videlicet prædicti
regis Caroli, unguentes eum super se regem _hæreditario jure_
regnaturum.” We shall find as nearly as possible the same words in an
important passage of our Chronicles (A. 1042).
NOTE T. p. 151.
NAMES OF KINGDOMS AND NATIONS.
It should be carefully borne in mind that, throughout the times with
which we are dealing, two systems of geographical nomenclature were in
use, we might say in rival use. The ancient names, Roman or ante-Roman,
still survived, as many of them survive still, as purely geographical
descriptions, and the new names, the names of states and kingdoms named
after their inhabitants, were still only in process of forming. I have
said something of this in an earlier Note (see above, p. 596) with
regard to the nomenclature of our own island; the nomenclature of
continental countries we shall find to be still more confused. But the
two classes of names can be clearly distinguished. _Gallia_ and
_Britannia_ were doubtless in their origin names derived from a people,
no less than _Francia_ and _Anglia_; but, in the times with which we
have to deal, _Gallia_ and _Britannia_ had become purely geographical
terms, simply expressing a certain extent of territory on the map, while
_Francia_ and _Anglia_ (if the latter name was used at all) were
political names, expressing the territory occupied or ruled by _Franci_
and _Angli_. The shifting of names of this latter class are frequent and
well known. The modern kingdom of Saxony, for instance, has not an inch
of ground in common with the Saxony which was conquered by Charles the
Great, and the various meanings of the word Burgundy have become a
proverb among the learned and a touchstone to bewray the half-learned.
Another cause of confusion is that the ancient geographical names were
constantly used, not only in their straightforward geographical sense,
but also by way of fine writing, in which case they are constantly used
affectedly, and often inaccurately. This is especially the case with
Richer. Take for instance the opening of his second book, where he
describes the political parties of his own day in the geographical
language of Cæsar, “Galli namque Celtæ cum Aquitanis Hugonem Rotberti
regis filium, Belgæ vero Ludovicum Karoli sequebantur.” Here we get a
real distinction of race and language. The _Celtæ_ and _Aquitani_ are
the nations of the Romance tongues, the forerunners of the future French
and the future Provençal, while the _Belgæ_ mark the still Teutonic part
of the kingdom, whose inhabitants Richer elsewhere (i. 47) distinctly
calls _Germani_. But none would guess this from the antiquated
phraseology which he chooses. A still more remarkable instance of
Richers way of misusing antiquated terms will be found in a passage
which seems to have misled Sir Francis Palgrave. Sir Francis, describing
the campaign of 944 (see p. 225) says (ii. 543), “Among other vassals or
dependants ... Otho was joined by Conrad ‘King of Geneva,’ under which
style we might have some difficulty in recognizing the King of Burgundy,
yet the title is not undeserving of notice, as embodying the very few
remaining recollections of a kingdom practically effaced from historical
memory.” This I do not understand. As Sir Francis gives no references, I
cannot undertake to deny that Conrad may be called “King of Geneva”
somewhere, but he certainly is not so called in any of the most obvious
authorities for this campaign. Widukind does not mention him at all. In
Flodoard (A. 946) he is, as usual, “Cisalpinæ Galliæ rex.” In Richer
(ii. 53) he is “Rex Genaunorum.” (Did Sir Francis read “Genevanorum”?)
It is strange geography of Richer to place the Genauni in Burgundy, but
we find again in ii. 98, “urbem Vesontium, quæ est metropolis
Genaunorum, cui etiam in Alpibus sitæ Aldis Dubis præterfluit.” The
ecclesiastical province of Besançon answers almost exactly to
_Transjurane_ Burgundy. In iii. 86 the same Conrad is, still more
wonderfully, made into “Rex Alemannorum.” Richer, in short, despised the
geography of his own age, and used his obsolete names without much
discretion.
But this affectation extends to better writers than Richer. Lambert
himself constantly uses the word _Galliæ_ in a vague sort of way, or
rather as equivalent to Germany. Thus, for instance, we hear of the
church of Fulda as one of the chief churches of the Gauls “illius
monasterii opes usque ad id temporis florentissimæ erant cunctisque
_Galliarum_ ecclesiis eminebant.” A 1063), while Mainz (A. 1074) is
“caput et princeps _Gallicarum_ urbium.” And the word is used in the
same sense in several other passages under those two years. So, as I
have implied in discussing Richer’s description of Conrad, the name
“Gallia Cisalpina,” as used by Flodoard, always, I cannot conceive why,
means the kingdom of Burgundy or some part of it (see A. 924, 937, 939,
946). Of these the third is the passage referred to in p. 203. M. Gaudet
in his note on Richer takes the “Hugo Cisalpinus” there spoken of for
Hugh the Black, one of the Princes of the ducal Burgundy who is
mentioned by Flodoard the next year. But there can be no doubt that the
person meant is Hugh of Provence, the famous King of Italy.
But the great source, not so much of confusion as of vague and strange
descriptions or rather indications of kingdoms and states, arises from
the fact that none of the states formed by the division of the
Carolingian Empire, none at least of those north of the Alps, had as yet
won for itself a geographical name. There were old national names in
abundance, Saxony, Bavaria, Aquitaine, Britanny, but there were no
general names to express the kingdoms of Charles, Lothar, and Lewis,
respectively. Each King was a King of the Franks; he reigned over so
much of the old Frankish dominion as he could get hold of; he had no
distinct and recognized national or territorial title; he and his
kingdom had to be described, or rather pointed out, as they might be. We
nowhere see this better than in the way in which our own Chronicles
under the year 887 record the division of the Empire after the
deposition of Charles the Third. The four kingdoms are clearly marked
out, but not one of the four has a territorial name; the three which lie
north of the Alps are simply pointed to geographically; “Earnulf wunode
on þam lande be æstan Rine; and Hroðulf þa feng to þam middel rice, and
Oda to þam west dæle, and Beorngar and Wiða to Langbeardna lande.” This
is at least clearer than the description given by Erchempert (Hist.
Langobardorum, 11; Pertz, iii. 245) of the earlier division between the
sons of Lewis the Pious; “Ab hoc Francorum divisum est regnum, quoniam
Lutharius Aquensem et Italicum, Ludoguicus [this form, with the _gu_ for
the _w_, is worth noting philologically] autem Baioarium, Karlus vero,
ex alia ortus genitrice, Aquitaneum regebat imperium.” Here, in the
hopelessness of finding a name for Lothar’s kingdom, we find an unique
“regnum” or “imperium Aquense,” while Saxony and the rest of Germany are
merged in Bavaria, and Neustria is merged in Aquitaine. Another way of
distinguishing kingdoms and their inhabitants was to describe them by
the names of their rulers, as in the passage of Widukind (i. 29) quoted
in p. 155; “Unde usque hodie certamen est de regno Karolorum stirpi et
posteris Odonis, concertatio quoque regibus Karolorum et Orientalium
Francorum super regno Lotharii.” Here “regnum Lotharii” is of course
Lotharingia, Lothringen, Lorraine, though it must be remembered that the
name takes in a far wider territory than the modern duchy. So Gregory
the Seventh (Jaffé, Mon. Greg. 465) speaks of “regnum Lotharii” and
Bonitho (ib. 631) of “Lothariorum regnum.” And in the continuation of
Regino (Pertz, i. 618) “Lothariensi regnum” is opposed to Gallia Romana.
But it should also be noticed that the Western Kingdom also has no name;
its Kings are “reges Karolorum;” it was quite a chance that France was
not permanently called _Carolingia_ to match _Lotharingia_. So in
Widukind (iii. 2) the Western kingdom is “regnum Karoli,” though in the
reign of a Lewis; so, still more distinctly, in the Gesta Episcoporum
Cameracensium (i. 55, iii. 50; Pertz, vii. 421, 481) the inhabitants of
France and Lotharingia are distinguished as “_Karlenses_” and
“Lotharienses.” So in the same work (i. 116; Pertz, vii. 452) “Robertus
rex _Karlensium_” is coupled with “Richardus rex Rotomagensium.” And
strangest of all, in the Chronicle of the Counts of Flanders (Corp.
Chron. Fland. i. 86) the Emperor Henry the Third is spoken of as “Rex
Lothariensis, qui et Cæsar Imperator Augustus appellatus est.” (So in
our own Chronicle, 1126, “þone kasere Heanri of Loherenge;” in the next
year we hear of “ðes Caseres wif of Sexlande.”) This way of describing
countries by their rulers is very common just at this time, when
divisions were springing up for which there were no received
geographical names. Thus Germany is sometimes “Terra Heinrici”
(Flodoard, 933); Flanders and Normandy are, in our own Chronicles,
“Baldwines land” and “Ricardes rice.” But Lotharingia, perhaps as the
name of the most purely artificial division of all, is the only name of
the class which has survived.
This same passage leads us to the way which (except in the case of
Lotharingia, a kingdom which almost always bore the name of its founder)
became more usual, that of distinguishing the kingdoms and their
inhabitants by some distinctive epithet of race or language, or by some
word which simply points to them geographically. The difficulty, as I
have already hinted, arises from the still abiding notion of the
existence of a single Frankish kingdom, however many might be the Kings
among whom its administration was divided. None of the Kings, nor yet
the subjects of any of the Kings, would give up their right to be at
least one of the Kings of the Franks, to be at least part of the people
of the Franks. While such a state of feeling was rife, it was impossible
that any King or kingdom should bear any title distinctly and
permanently recognized. A King most commonly describes himself simply as
“Rex;” any more particular description might have been construed either
as a surrender of his own rights or as an infringement of the rights of
some other prince. Thus it has often been remarked that in the act of
election (see Pertz, Legg. i. 547, cf. the election of Lewis at p. 558)
by which Boso was raised to the kingship of Burgundy—the “middel rice”
of our Chronicles—he is simply made King without any particular title,
and without any particular geographical extent being traced out for his
kingdom. It was not so while the Frankish dominions remained undivided.
In the days of the early Karlings, the King had a title and his
dominions had a name. His dominions were _Francia_; he himself was the
_Rex Francorum_. In Einhard, _Francia_ means the whole territory
occupied or ruled by the Franks and their King. This comes out very
strongly in the Life of Charles, c. 2; “Pater ejus [Pippini] Karolus,
qui tyrannos per totam Franciam dominatum sibi vindicantes oppressit, et
Sarracenos Galliam occupare tentantes duobus magnis prœliis, uno in
Aquitania apud Pictavium civitatem, altero juxta Narbonam apud Birram
fluvium devicit.” Here, with the strictest precision, _Gallia_ is a part
of _Francia_ and _Aquitania_ is a part of _Gallia_. And this will be
found to be the common use throughout the Life and Annals. So the Monk
of Saint Gallen (Gesta Karoli, i. 10; Pertz, ii. 735) defines Francia in
the widest sense to take in “omnes Cis-alpinas provincias.” But the name
_Francia_ gradually came to be confined to two portions of the original
_Francia_, one on each side of the Rhine, those where the name still
survives alike in _France_ and in _Franken_ or _Franconia_. These two
had therefore to be distinguished by various epithets. Thus we find
“Francia Teutonica” opposed to “Francia Latina” and “Francia Orientalis”
opposed to “Francia Occidentalis.” Sometimes “Francia” and “Gallia” are
opposed, as in Ann. Xant. 877 (Pertz, ii. 234), and the use is not
uncommon in the Annals of Fulda, as 880 (i. 393). See too specially
Bruno, Bell. Sax. 36 (Pertz, v. 342), and Liudprand (Antapodosis, i. 14,
16), who talks of “Franciam quam Romanam dicunt,” and elsewhere (iii.
20) of “Francorum genus Teutonicorum.” See also Widukind, i. 16, 29;
Wipo, Vit. Chuon. 1, 6, 27, and especially c. 2, where he describes the
Rhine as the frontier of “Gallia” and “Germania,” and reckons up the
nations in both countries which formed the kingdom of Conrad, among
which are “Franci Orientales,” and “Franci qui supra Rhenum habitant,”
an unusual distinction. See also Otto of Freising, Gest. Frid. i. 34,
where he speaks of “Orientalis Francia,” and Ann. vii. 5, where he
distinguishes “Franci Romani et Teutonici.” In the Annals of Saint
Vedast, 887 (Pertz, ii. 203), we find “Franci Australes” and
“inferiores;” but in those Annals “Franci” and “Francia” commonly mean
the Western kingdom. The word is sometimes used in this sense in the
phrases “rex Franciæ” and “regnum Franciæ” (see above, p. 595, and Dudo,
97 D). But _Francia_, as used by writers within the Western kingdom,
commonly means the Parisian duchy, and it is only through the successive
conquests of the Parisian Kings that the word _France_ has gained that
modern meaning which now takes in the old Western kingdom and something
more. The ordinary meaning of the word _Francia_ in Flodoard and Richer
is plain from such passages as Flodoard, A. 923, 926. It means the
dominion of the “Dux Francorum,” whether he be “Rex Francorum” as well
or not. In the latter passage, we find a Danegeld levied “per Franciam
et Burgundiam,” where _Burgundia_ does not mean the kingdom of Boso, but
the duchy which did homage to the West-Frankish King. So in the Vita
Hludowici, 49, we find “Francia, Burgundia, Aquitania, et Germania.”
_Francia_, in short, as used by these writers, excludes Lotharingia and
all the Burgundies; it excludes Aquitaine, Normandy, and Britanny; and
it has further to be distinguished as “Latina” or “Occidentalis” from
the other _Francia_ east of the Rhine.
In the like sort, we read in the Chronica Regum Francorum, ap. Pertz,
iii. 214; “Hic [at the deposition of Charles the Third] divisio facta
est inter Teutones Francos et Latinos Francos.” But it is remarkable to
trace how early, especially within the Western _Francia_, the word
_Franci_ began to mean the Western as opposed to the Eastern Franks.
Thus the Astronomer (ap. Pertz, ii. 617) speaks of Lewis the Pious as
“monitus tam a _Francis_ quamque a Germanis,” and again (p. 633),
“diffidens _Francis_, magisque se credens Germanis.” So Liudprand
(Antapod. i. 14, 17) uses “Rex Galliæ” and “Rex Francorum” as
synonymous. And the word seems to be used in the same sense by Nithard,
i. 5, ii. 3, in the former of which passages _Francia_ seems to be
opposed to “universi qui trans Renum morabantur.” So Wipo (31)
distinguishes the Western kingdom as “Galliæ Francorum,” and Lambert
(1073), unlike Bruno, allows the title of “Rex Francorum” to the Western
potentate. Still in Germany _Franci_ kept its natural meaning down to
the days of Frederick Barbarossa. “Sic emitur a _Francis_ Imperium,”
says Otto of Freising (Gest. Frid. ii. 22). Yet elsewhere (i. 58) he
speaks of “Rex Francorum” and “Rex Franciæ” in the other sense. So
William of Malmesbury (i. 68), in a passage the whole of which is worth
study, says, “Lotharingi et Alemanni, et cæteri Transrhenani populi qui
Imperatori Teutonicorum subjecti sunt, magis proprie se Francos
appellari jubent; et eos quos nos Francos putamus, _Galwalas_ antiquo
vocabulo [did William know the force of the _walas_?] quasi Gallos
nuncupant. Quibus et ego assensum commodo,” &c. Elsewhere (iv. 360) he
says, “Romanum Imperium prius ad Francos, post ad Teutones, declinavit;”
he yet more strangely adds, “orientale apud Persas semper durat.”
In other cases the words _Franci_ or _Francia_ are altogether left out.
“Occidentales” alone is used as equivalent to West-Frankish or French,
and “Orientales” is used as equivalent to German. Perhaps the most
remarkable case of this use is to be found in the treaty between Charles
the Simple and Henry of Saxony in 921 (Pertz, Legg. i. 567). Here the
two Kings of the Franks are geographically distinguished, as
“Gloriosissimus rex Francorum Occidentalium, Karolus” and
“Magnificentissimus rex Francorum Orientalium Heinricus.” But in the
text of the treaty, where Charles speaks in his own person, he says,
“Ego Karolus, divina propitiante clementia, rex Francorum Occidentalium,
amodo ero huic amico meo _regi Orientali_ Heinrico amicus.” We find the
same use in Dudo, 130 B, and in a very remarkable passage of Richer (iv.
12, 13), where he gives two descriptions of the extent of the Western
kingdom in the tenth century. Hugh Capet is made King over “Galli,
Britanni, Dahi [doubtless _Dani_, i.e. the Normans], Aquitani, Gothi,
Hispani [the county of Barcelona], Wascones.” He then associates his son
Robert in the kingdom—“a Mosa fluvio usque Oceanum _Occidentalibus_
regem præfecit et ordinavit.” So in the extract from Thietmar in p. 175,
“Occiduæ partes” is the German writer’s description of the kingdom of
Charles the Simple. In other passages a King is simply, as it were,
pointed at. In Flodoard, 938, Otto is “Rex Transrhenensis,” in Richer,
i. 20, his father is simply “Heinricus Transrhenensis,” and in Dudo, 130
B, where the Germans are still “Orientales,” their King is still “Rex
Transrhenanus.” So “Rex Orientalis” is opposed to “Rex Galliæ,” Ann.
Xant. 873 (Pertz, ii. 235). More curious still is the description of no
less a person than Hugh the Great in Flodoard, A. 960; “Richardus,
filius Willelmi Nortmannorum principis, filiam Hugonis trans Sequanam
[or ‘Transsequani’] quondam principis, duxit uxorem.” So in 946 our
Eadmund is “Edmundus rex transmarinus.” See above, p. 565. This way of
describing suggests some of those curious mediæval verbs,
“transfretare,” “transpadare,” and the like.
Germany in fact was longer than any of the other countries of which we
have been speaking in getting a true territorial name for itself, and a
true territorial title for its sovereign. We have seen several instances
of the use of _Germania_; but then _Germania_, like _Gallia_, is a
purely geographical name, and the Eastern kingdom took in a large part
of _Gallia_. The kingdom itself is commonly “Regnum Teutonicum”
(Lambert, 1073), a phrase which is the more remarkable when we find it
coupled with the geographical name _Italia_, as in Gregory’s anathema in
Muratori, iii. 336. Lewis the son of Lewis the Pious is repeatedly
called “Rex Germanorum” by Prudentius of Troyes (Pertz, i. 441, 443),
and “Rex Germaniæ” by Hincmar (Pertz, i. 458). So Henry is “Germaniæ
princeps” in Flodoard, 928. But these are mere descriptions, and no such
formal title seems to be found earlier than the days of Maximilian.
Indeed the German kingdom was so soon swallowed up by the Roman Empire
that a distinct title for its King was hardly needed. The kingdom of
Boso, on the other hand, though he and his electors shrank from giving
it a name, soon found one in common use. Liudprand (Ant. ii. 60) tells
how “Rodulfus rex superbissimus Burgundionibus imperabat,” and Wipo
speaks familiarly (15, 19) of “Rex Burgundiæ” and “Burgundionum.”
Flodoard, however, besides his favourite flourish about Cisalpine Gaul,
tells us of “Rex Jurensis” under the years 935 and 940.
Lastly, the Norman duchy, as I have once or twice implied in the text,
was also slow in gaining for itself any distinct territorial name. There
is no trace of any such name in Flodoard or in Richer. In Dudo’s time
the country is beginning, but only beginning to have a name; it is
sometimes “Northmannia,” sometimes only “Terra Northmannorum,”
“Northmannica regio,” and the like. In the next century the people have
become “Normanni,” and their land has become “Normannia,” “Normendie.”
“Northmannia,” with Einhard, meant Denmark. In Adam of Bremen
“Nortmannia” means distinctively Norway, though he also uses the word
“Norvegia.” With him “Nortmanni” always means Norwegians, except in ii.
52, where Richard is described as “Comes Nortmannorum” and his duchy as
“Nortmannia.” It is perhaps needless to add that in our own Northumbrian
geography the local names Normanton and Normanby point to Northmen, not
to Normans, just as the word “Norþmen” is used in our own Chronicles in
describing the Commendation of 923.
NOTE V. p. 158.
NOTICES OF LANGUAGE IN THE TENTH CENTURY.
The notices of language which we come across in our authors are often
highly curious. The Romance languages are now just beginning to be felt
to be really languages, and not mere vulgar dialects of Latin. We get
perhaps our first glimpse of this feeling in Nithard’s description (iii.
5) of the famous oath of Strassburg in 842. The two languages, the
parents of modern High-Dutch and modern French, are distinguished as
“lingua Teudisca” and “lingua Romana.” Charles the Bald himself spoke
Lingua Romana; Pertz, Legg. i. 472. “Romana,” _Romance_, is the usual
description of the new language, as distinguished from the classical
“Latina,” though we have seen (see p. 182) at least one instance where
“Latinus sermo” means the popular Romance. In the course of the next
century the language became nationalized, and in Richer (iv. 100) it
appears as “lingua Gallica,” which becomes its usual later name. I leave
to professed philologers to fix the exact relation of the “lingua
Romana” of Nithard to French and to Provençal respectively. For my
purpose it is enough that it is Romance, as distinguished both from
Latin and from Teutonic.
We also in the course of the narratives of Flodoard and Richer come
across several curious passages where the Romance and Teutonic languages
are opposed to each other. Thus Charles the Simple has a conference at
Worms with Henry of Saxony (“Heinricus Transrhenensis”), when (Richer,
i. 20) “Germanorum Gallorumque juvenes, linguarum idiomate offensi, ut
eorum mos est, cum multa animositate maledictis sese lacessire
cœperunt.” In 948 Lewis and Otto attend a synod, where letters are read
in Latin, and are translated “propter reges juxta Teutiscam linguam.”
(Flod. in an.; Pertz, iii. 396.) Lewis therefore spoke German no less
than Otto. Otto however (see Widukind, ii. 36) could speak French on
occasion (“Romana lingua Slavanicaque loqui scit”), which makes the
employment of German still more important. In 981 Hugh Capet and Otto
the Second met. Otto spoke Latin, and a Bishop translated his speech to
Hugh. (Richer, iii. 85.) Hugh therefore did not understand German, and
the Romance which he spoke had departed so far from Latin that Latin
needed an interpreter. In 996 certain Gaulish and German Bishops meet
(Richer, iv. 100), and the Bishop of Verdun is chosen to speak “eo quod
linguam Gallicam norat.” The Lotharingian prelate could doubtless speak
both languages. These passages seem enough to make out the view which I
have everywhere maintained, that throughout the tenth century the
Carolingian Kings at Laon were a strictly German dynasty, speaking
German as their mother-tongue, while the Dukes and Kings of Paris were
already French.
Sir Francis Palgrave’s assertion (i. 72) that “the German Ritterschaft
of Otho the Great raised the war-cry in French” is an evident
misconception of the passage in Widukind (ii. 17) on which it seems to
be grounded. The historian is clearly speaking of the Lotharingian
borderers who spoke both languages. His words are simply, “Ex nostris
etiam fuere, qui Gallica lingua ex parte loqui sciebant, qui clamore in
altum Gallice levato, exhortati sunt adversarios ad fugam.”
Of the speed with which French displaced Danish as the language of
Normandy, I have said something in p. 181. For the retention of the
ancient speech at Bayeux, after it had been forgotten at Rouen, our
chief authority is Dudo, 112 D; “Quoniam quidem Rotomagensis civitas
Romana potius quam Dacisca utitur eloquentia, et Baiocacensis fruitur
frequentius Dacisca lingua quam Romana; volo igitur ut ad Baiocacensia
deferatur quantocius mœnia, et ibi volo ut sit, Botho, sub tua custodia,
et enutriatur et educetur cum magna diligentia, fervens loquacitate
Dacisca, tamque discens tenaci memoria, ut queat sermocinari profusius
olim contra Dacigenas.” (“Contra sermocinari,” in Dudo’s language, is
simply to converse with.) So Benoît, 11520;
“Si à Roem le faz garder
E norir, gaires longement
Il ne saura parlier neient
Daneis, kar nul l’i parole.
Si voil qu’il seit a tele escole
Ou l’en le sache endoctriner
Que as Daneis sache parler.
Ci ne sevent riens fors romanz;
Mais à Baiues en a tanz
Qui ne sevent si Daneis non:
E pur ceo, sire quens Boton,
Voil que vos l’aiez ensemble od vos.”
Wace (Roman de Rou, 2502) says only
“Richart sout en Daneiz, en Normant parler.”
Here “Normant” can mean nothing but French, but it is less clear what he
means by it in v. 2377, where we read,
“Cosne sout en Thioiz et en Normant parler.”
Wace probably meant French, but he seems to have misunderstood a passage
of Dudo (99, 100) which contains a curious notice of the use of the
Danish language, the force of which Dudo himself seems hardly to have
understood. William is at a conference with Henry of Germany (really
with Otto). Certain Lotharingians and Saxons talk to their own chief
Cono; William, by his knowledge of Danish, understands them (“per
Daciscam linguam quæ dicebant subsannantes, intelligendo subaudit”). The
Saxon Duke Hermann afterwards speaks to William in Danish, and being
asked how the Saxons came to understand that language, explains the fact
by the constant incursions of the Northmen. Duke Hermann might very well
understand Danish, and might speak Danish to William; but the Saxons and
Lotharingians would not speak Danish to Cono. What the story seems to
point to is that the Low-Dutch of Saxony and Lower Lorraine was so far
intelligible to one who understood Danish that he could guess at the
general meaning of what was said.
But the most remarkable notice of language at all is to be found in the
Tours Chronicle in Duchesne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt. iii. 360, which
records the homage of Rolf to Charles (see p. 168), and the traditional
origin of the name _Bigot_ as applied to the Normans. When Rolf is
called on to kiss the King’s feet, “lingua Anglica respondit, _Ne se
bigoth_, quod interpretatur, non per Deum, rex vero et sui illum
deridentes, et sermonem ejus corrupte referentes, illum vocaverunt
Bigoth. Unde Normanni adhuc Bigothi dicuntur” (see Wace, 9907, et
seqq.). Here we read that this famous refusal of Rolf to abase himself
was made in a language which by Frankish hearers was looked upon as
English. That Rolf spoke English in any strict sense is most unlikely;
the tongue in which he answered was doubtless his native Danish. Nor is
it enough to say, with Sir F. Palgrave (i. 700), that any Teutonic
speech was loosely called English by the French; for Rolf was speaking
in the presence of a prince whose native speech was undoubtedly
Teutonic. But Charles the Frank spoke High-Dutch; Rolf the Dane spoke a
language which, in a wide sense of the words, might be called Low-Dutch.
England was the most famous and most familiar country of the Low-Dutch
speech, and the Scandinavian talk of Rolf was by his Frankish hearers
accordingly set down as English.
NOTE W. pp. 168, 222.
THE VASSALAGE OF NORMANDY.
That Rolf became in the strictest sense the “man” of King Charles, I
have no doubt whatever. Against plain facts and probabilities we have
nothing to set except the shirkings and twistings of Dudo’s rhetoric.
Thus he tells us (83 D); “Dedit itaque [Karolus] filiam suam Gislam
nomine uxorem illi Duci, terramque determinatam _in alodo, et in fundo_,
a flumine Eptæ usque ad mare, totamque Britanniam, de qua posset
vivere.” And again (84 A); “Ceterum Karolus rex, duxque Rotbertus,
comitesque et proceres, præsules et abbates, juraverunt sacramento
Catholicæ fidei patricio Rolloni vitam suam, et membra, et _honorem
totius regni_, insuper terram denominatam,” &c. See Palgrave, ii. 361.
And he is rather fond of speaking of Normandy as a kingdom or a
monarchy; “Tenet sicuti rex monarchiam Northmannicæ regionis;” “Regnum
Northmannicæ Britonicæque regionis.” (110 D; 128 B, C; 136 C.) Still the
homage of Rolf is perfectly plain, and so is the homage of his son
William Longsword. (See pp. 168, 196.) The testimony of Flodoard (927,
cf. 933) is express; “Se filius Rollonis Karolo committit.” But whether
Richard the Fearless ever did homage to Lewis or Lothar is not so clear.
Richard may be included among the “cæteri regni primores” who (see p.
221) did homage to Lewis in 946. Dudo however (126 C) seems very anxious
to except him; “Venit rex supra fluvium Eptæ contra Northmannos, cum
magno duce Hugone.... Propriis verbis fecit securitatem _regni_ quod
suus avus Rollo vi ac potestate, armis et præliis sibi acquisivit.
Ipseque et omnes episcopi, comites, et abbates reverendi, principesque
Franciæ regni Richardo puero innocenti, ut teneat et possideat, et
_nullis nisi Deo servitium ipse et successio ejus reddat_, et si quis
perversæ invasionis rixatione contra eum congredi, vel alicujus
rixationis congressione invadere _regnum_, maluerit, fidissimus adjutor
in omni adversæ inopportunitatis necessitate per omnia exstiterit.” As
for any homage to Lothar (see p. 232), I suspect that no such homage was
ever rendered. The French writers do not mention it, though they would
doubtless have been glad to mention it if it had happened. And
Flodoard’s way of speaking of Richard is remarkable. William was “the
Prince of the Normans;” Richard is only “the son of William Prince of
the Normans” (“filius Willelmi Northmannorum principis;” see p. 232,
note 3). But I have no doubt that the homage was lawfully due, and it
was most likely its refusal which led to the differences between Lothar
and Richard. On the other hand, the Commendation of Richard to Hugh the
Great (see p. 222) seems to be quite authentic, and it is clear that it
was renewed to Hugh’s son. This appears from a charter, which I am
obliged to quote at secondhand from Lappenberg, Norman Kings, p. 30.
Richard there uses the words, “cum assensu _senioris mei_, Hugonis,
Francorum principis.” The date is 968; the lord therefore is Hugh Capet.
With regard to this matter a remarkable passage of Sir Francis Palgrave
(ii. 494–5) must be quoted and commented on. His words are, “A perfect
reciprocity was established between France and the ‘Norman
Monarchy,’ ... That Dominion which Rollo the Grandsire had won by so
many battles, Richard shall henceforward have and hold, owing service to
none but God.... Should any enemy attempt to disturb the right of the
Norman Sovereign, the King of France shall be his help and aid in all
things.... No other service shall Normandy render unless the King should
grant the Duke some Benefice within the Kingdom of France. Therefore, as
it was explained in after-time, the Duke of Normandy doth no more than
promise faith and homage to the King of France. In like manner doth the
King of France render the same fealty to the Duke of Normandy; nor is
there any other difference between them, save that the King of France
doth not render homage to the Duke of Normandy like as the Duke of
Normandy doth to the King.”
If I rightly understand Sir Francis Palgrave, his meaning is that the
Duke of the Normans ceased from that time to be the man of the _King_ of
the French; that he merely entered into a treaty on equal terms with his
former lord; that by voluntary commendation he became the man of the
_Duke_ of the French; that the later vassalage of Normandy to France was
due, not to the kingdom of France but to the duchy, that it had its
beginning in the homage done by Richard the Fearless to Duke Hugh, not
in the homage done by Rolf to King Charles. I say, if I rightly
understand Sir Francis, because I cannot quite reconcile his statements
with one another. In one page there “is perfect reciprocity established
between France and the Norman monarchy.” Richard has and holds his
dominion, owing service to none but God,—yet directly afterwards it is
allowed that “the Duke of Normandy promises fealty and homage to the
King of France.” It is dangerous to dispute with Sir Francis Palgrave on
a question of feudal law, and the more so, as the relations between
Normandy and France at once awaken the whole controversy about “liege”
and “simple” homage. But surely, even in a case of simple homage, there
is not “perfect reciprocity” between him who pays and him who receives
the homage; and certainly, in the tale as I read it, I see nothing but
the simple relation of lord and man, only clouded over by the big words
of Dudo. And as for reciprocity, surely reciprocity of a certain kind
was the essence of the feudal relation. Lord and vassal were each to
help and defend the other. No one denies that Henry the Second was the
vassal of King Lewis the Seventh, if not for Normandy, at any rate for
his other continental possessions, but an equal obligation is imposed,
in their mutual oath, on Lewis to defend Henry “sicut fidelem suum” and
on Henry to defend Lewis “dominum suum.” See Roger of Wendover, ii. 388.
The notion of the independence of Normandy on France comes out very
strongly in the speech which Henry of Huntingdon puts into the mouth of
William the Conqueror before the Battle of Senlac (M. H. B. 762 D). A
much later instance will be found in William of Worcester’s Collections
(Stevenson’s Wars in France, ii. 522), when the relations between
Normandy and France had again begun to interest Englishmen. We there
read of “Normandy, which ducdom, as yt ys sayde by auncyent wrytyng,
holdeth of noone higher souverayn in chief but of God.”
The exact relations between Richard the Fearless and the two—if any one
cares to reckon the last Lewis, the three—last Karlings I must be
content to leave doubtful. When the Duke of the French—the undoubted
over-lord of Normandy—became also King of the French the question ceased
to be a practical one. As I have said in p. 246, the French King was the
lord of the Norman Duke in some character, whether in that of Duke or of
King it mattered little. The question was not likely to be stirred again
till that change in the relations and mutual feelings between France and
Normandy which marked the days of King Henry and Duke William.
NOTE X. p. 180.
DANISH MARRIAGES.
The “mos Danicus” with regard to marriage or concubinage, or rather with
regard to some third state between marriage and concubinage, is often
mentioned in the Norman history of the time. And, though I do not
remember the exact words being used in England, yet something of the
same kind seems to have existed there also. The ease with which Earl
Uhtred (see p. 329) parts with two successive wives, the relations
between Cnut and his two Ælfgifus (see p. 411), perhaps the relation
between Harold the son of Godwine and the East-Anglian Eadgyth
Swanneshals (see vol. iii. Appendix NN), all seem to point to a practice
of the same kind. Indeed we shall find (see below, Note SS) that it is
by no means clear whether the first wife of Æthelred, the mother of his
heroic son, was not in the same way cast aside to make room for the
Norman Lady. Instances of the same sort might indeed be found very much
later in German, in French, and in English history, and we find a
relation essentially the same as far as we can go back in the history of
the Aryan race. The “mos Danicus” might just as well be called “mos
Achaicus;” the relation between Rolf and Popa at once reminds one of the
relation of Briseis to Achilleus, or of Andromachê to Neoptolemos.
Briseis is a captive; but she receives the honourable appellation of
ἄλοχος (II. ix. 336, 340); she has hopes of becoming even κουριδίη
ἄλοχος (II. xix. 298). Still Achilleus’ relation to her in no way
hinders him from taking another wife (II. ix. 394), any more than it
hinders Diomêdê (ib. 661) from taking her place during her constrained
absence. In just the same way, Popa is put away to make room for King
Charles’s daughter; but afterwards we read (Will. Gem. ii. 22),
“Repudiatam Popam ... iterum repetens sibi copulavit.” (See more in
detail, Benoît, v. 7954, and Roman de Rou, 2037.) The “mos Danicus” is
opposed to the “mos Christianus.” The tardy bridal of Richard and Gunnor
(see p. 253) was done Christian fashion; “_Virginem_ [viraginem?] ...
sibi in matrimonium _Christiano more_ desponsavit.” So says William of
Jumièges (iv. 18), and he even thinks it necessary to guarantee (v. 5)
that the marriage of Alan of Britanny and Hadwisa the daughter of
Richard the Good was celebrated “Christiano more.” The expressions used
with regard to Sprota herself are many and various. She is in Dudo, 97
A, “conjux dilectissima;” in 110 D, “matrona venerabilis,” a description
which, I need hardly say, proves nothing as to her age. In Flodoard, A.
943, her son is “natus de concubina Britanna.” King Lewis, if we may
believe William of Jumièges (iv. 3), went a step further, and called
young Richard “meretricis filium ultro virum alienum rapientis.” This is
mere Billingsgate, as Richard was certainly born before William’s
marriage with Liudgardis, though from the Roman de Rou (v. 2073, 2251)
one might be led to think otherwise. Elsewhere (iii. 2), in announcing
the birth of Richard, William calls her “nobilissima puella, _Danico
more_ sibi [William Longsword] juncta, nomine Sprota.” And so Benoît,
8872;
“Icele ama mult e tint chere;
Mais à la Danesche manere
La vout aveir, non autrement,
Ce dit l’estorie qui ne ment.”
The last line is most likely meant as a compliment to William of
Jumièges.
The essence of this kind of connexion seems to be that the woman is the
man’s wife but that the man is not the woman’s husband. He can evidently
leave her at pleasure, but there is no recorded instance of her leaving
him. This difference may however be simply the result of the difference
of rank between the parties in all the cases with which we have to deal.
The wife or mistress of a prince is obviously less likely to forsake him
than he is to forsake her. And from a modern Scandinavian writer I
gather that Scandinavian manners, at a somewhat later time, allowed of a
connexion of nearly the same kind, but one which put the sexes more on a
level.
“The term _fylgikona_ (literally companion-woman), which frequently
occurs in the Sagas, must have originally meant the same as _frilla_.
Later on, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, it received a more
honourable import, as it was applied to a free woman living with a man
in connubial intercourse according to the terms of a formal contract,
but without the observance of the usual wedding ceremonies, and
especially without consecration by the Church. Connexions of this kind
seem to have been rather common, especially in Iceland, and dated from
the time when the Church began to lay greater hindrances in the way of
obtaining a divorce than had formerly been the case. This connexion
would be dissolved at the wish of either of the parties, or in
accordance with the terms which had been previously agreed upon, without
the intervention of the Church, a result which was not in accordance
with Christian views, and could not be applied to marriages proper....
The _fylgikona_ frequently occupied the position of house-wife.”
Keyser’s Private Life of the Old Northmen, pp. 35, 36.
As for earlier Frankish laxity, among many strange examples I choose the
strangest. “Luxuriæ supra modum deditus [Dagobertus] tres habebat ad
instar Salomonis reginas, maxime et plurimas concubinas. Reginæ vero hæ
erant, Nantechildis, Wlfegundis, et Berchildis. Nomina concubinarum, eo
quod plures fuissent, increvit huic chronicæ inseri.” Fredegar, c. 60.
NOTE Y. p. 197.
THE ELECTION OF LEWIS.
We have two main accounts of the election of Lewis. Flodoard (A. 936)
tells the tale very briefly; Richer (ii. 1–4), as usual, is much fuller.
But the longer version only expands, and in no way contradicts, the
shorter one. The main points, that Hugh the Great was the chief mover in
the business and that application had to be made to King Æthelstan in
England, come out equally in both accounts. Flodoard tells us, in his
dry annalistic way, “Hugo comes trans mare mittit pro accersiendo ad
apicem regni suscipiendum Ludowico Karoli filio, quem rex Alstanus
avunculus ipsius, accepto prius jurejurando a Francorum legatis, in
Franciam cum quibusdam episcopis et aliis fidelibus suis dirigit.” We
may here note how completely the words “trans mare” had got to mean
England and nothing else, and also that _Francia_ seems to be used in a
wider sense than usual (see above, p. 614), though not necessarily in a
sense taking in the whole of the Western kingdom. Lewis is met at
Boulogne by Hugh and the other princes (“cæteri Francorum proceres”),
who do homage to him on the sea-shore (“in ipsis litoreis arenis apud
Bononiam sese committunt, ut erat utrimque depactum”). He then goes to
Laon, and is crowned. Richer (ii. 1) first gives us that geographical
distribution of parties which I have mentioned in the text, and of which
I have also spoken in an earlier Note (see above, p. 609). He distinctly
mentions Hugh’s unwillingness to assume the crown; “Quum Hugo patrem ob
insolentiam periisse reminiscebatur, et ob hoc regnare formidaret” (cf.
c. 73, where King Lewis says the same), and adds that, through the
absence of Lewis and the unwillingness of Hugh, the choice of a King at
least seemed freer than usual (“Galli itaque in regis promotione
liberiores videri laborantes”). They meet under the presidency of Duke
Hugh (“sub Hugone duce deliberaturi de rege creando collecti sunt”). The
Duke makes a speech, which we may safely set down as the composition of
the historian. Hugh, we cannot doubt, really had a superstitious feeling
against taking the title of King, but he is not likely to have made the
strong legitimist harangue which is put into his mouth by Richer. He
deplores the sin of his father in reigning, even though he had been
chosen to reign by the common voice of the nation; “Pater meus vestra
quondam omnium voluntate rex creatus, non sine magno regnavit facinore,
quum is cui soli jura regnandi debebantur viveret, et vivens carcere
clauderetur. Quod credite Deo non acceptum fuisse. Unde et absit ut ego
patris loco restituar.” He then goes on to speak of the reign of Rudolf
as teaching the same lesson (“quum ejus tempore visum sit, quid nunc
innasci possit, contemptus videlicet regis ac per hoc principum
dissensus”). He therefore counsels a return to the lawful royal stock
(“repetatur ergo interrupta paullulum regiæ generationis linea”). The
rest agree, and the embassy is sent to England in the name of the Duke
and the other princes (“Ducis benevolentia atque omnium qui in Galliis
potiores sunt”).
The real importance of this speech, like that of many other speeches,
consists in its setting forth the feelings of Richer, not the feelings
of Duke Hugh. It points to a strong royalist tone as prevailing at
Rheims when this part of Richer’s history was written, and it is curious
to contrast his language now with the language which he uses after the
revolution of 987. See p. 240.
William of Normandy is not mentioned in either of these accounts. Dudo
(97 D) has quite another story, in which, as I hinted in the text, the
first step is taken by Æthelstan, who prays Duke William to restore his
nephew. “Audiens autem Alstemus, rex Anglorum pacificus, quod
præcellebat Willelmus virtute et potentia Franciscæ nationis omnibus,
misit ad eum legatos suos cum donis præmaximis et muneribus, deprecans
ut Ludovicum nepotem suum, Karoli capti regis morte jam in captione
præoccupati filium, revocaret ad Franciæ regnum,” &c., &c.
It is in recording this election of Lewis that Rudolf Glaber (i. 3) uses
those expressions, so well setting forth the union of election and
hereditary right, which I have quoted elsewhere (see above, p. 609). He
does not mention Hugh at all, though he had just before enlarged on his
share in the election of Rudolf.
NOTE Z. p. 205.
THE DEATH OF WILLIAM LONGSWORD.
Our accounts of the circumstances which led to the death of William
Longsword differ widely from each other. Flodoard (943) simply tells us
that Arnulf invited him to a conference, and there caused him to be put
to death. “Arnulfus comes Willelmum Nortmannorum principem ad colloquium
evocatum dolo perimi fecit.” Thus much we may accept as certain; but the
oldest French and Norman versions of the events immediately going before
are remarkably unlike, and in later writers we find quite another
version of the whole affair.
Richer (ii. 30 et seqq.) connects the murder of William with an insult
offered by him to King Otto in the Council held by Otto and Lewis at
Attigny. William, whether by accident or by design, was not admitted at
the beginning of the meeting. After waiting for some time, he forced his
way in in great wrath, and his indignation was further heightened at
what he then saw. The two Kings were sitting on a raised couch, the
Eastern King, the truer successor of Charles, taking the seat of honour.
Below them, on two chairs, sat Hugh the Great and Arnulf. William had
lately renewed his homage to Lewis, and was filled with zeal for the
honour of his over-lord. He bade Lewis rise, and he himself took his
seat immediately below Otto. It was not fit that the Western King should
allow any man to sit above him (“ipse resedit, dixitque indecens esse
regem inferiorem, alium vero quemlibet superiorem videri”). He then made
Otto rise, and made Lewis take the seat left empty by Otto, he himself
keeping the place immediately below Lewis, that where Lewis himself had
been seated at first; “Quapropter oportere Ottonem inde amoliri, regique
cedere. Otto pudore affectus surgit ac regi cedit. Rex itaque superior,
at Wilelmus inferior consederunt.” William thus set forth his theory of
precedence; the King of the West-Franks first, the Duke of the Normans
second, the Teutonic King and the other princes of Gaul seemingly
nowhere. Such a doctrine was naturally unacceptable alike to Otto, Hugh,
and Arnulf. They dissembled their anger at the time; but, when the
council had broken up, and when Lewis and William had gone away
together, they met and discussed their wrongs privately. Otto in vague
terms (c. 31) exhorted Hugh and Arnulf to vengeance against William; he
who had not spared him, King Otto, would certainly not spare them (“qui
sibi regi non indulsit, minus illis indulturum”). Richer however does
not charge Otto with counselling the assassination of William, unless
such a charge is implied in the words, “conceptum facinus variis
verborum coloribus obvelat.” Hugh and Arnulf then met together and
determined on the murder of William. His death was expedient, because it
would enable them to get Lewis altogether into their power, whereas now
William supported the King against them (“regem etiam ad quodcumque
volent facilius inflexuros, si is solum pereat, quo rex fretus ad quæque
flecti nequeat.” c. 32). The plot was laid; Arnulf invited William to
the conference at Picquigny; the Norman Duke was there killed by some of
the conspirators whose names are not given, but not in the presence or
by the avowed orders of the Count of Flanders.
Dudo’s story (pp. 104 et seqq.) is quite different. He knows nothing of
the Council of Attigny, nothing of King Otto as having even an
involuntary share in William’s murder. With him the first deviser of the
scheme is Arnulf, to whom all mischief is as naturally attributed at
this stage of Norman history as, at a later stage of English history, it
is attributed first to Ælfric and then to Eadric. Arnulf’s quarrel with
William arises wholly out of the affair of Herlwin of Montreuil (see p.
201). But certain French princes who are not named join with Arnulf in
the conspiracy; “Arnulfus dux Flandrensium supra memoratus, veneno
vipereæ calliditatis nequiter repletus astuque diabolicæ fraudis
exitialiter illectus, gentisque Franciscæ quorumdam principum subdolo
consilio et malignitate atrociter exhortatus, cœpit meditari et tractare
lugubrem mortem ejus Willelmi.” From this point the two tales are nearly
the same; only Dudo of course throws Arnulf’s talk with William into a
characteristic Dudonian shape. Arnulf is not only ready to make up his
differences with Herlwin; he asks for William’s protection against King
Lewis, Duke Hugh, and Count Herbert; he is ready to become William’s
vassal during life, and to make him his successor at his death; “Quamdiu
superstes fuero ero tibi tributarius, meique servient tibi ut domino
servus. Post meæ resolutionis excessum, possidebis meæ ditionis regnum”
(105 A). No one but Dudo could have thought of putting such words into
Arnulf’s mouth, even by way of a blind. The assassination itself is
described in much the same way as it is by Richer; Dudo also gives us
the names of the actual murderers. They are Eric, Balzo, Robert, and
Ridulf or Riulf.
Now these two versions, though at first sight so utterly different, do
not formally contradict one another. It is quite possible that Arnulf
may have been led to his crime by a combination of causes, of which
Richer has enlarged on one part and Dudo on another, according to their
several points of view. Arnulf may well have had a grudge against
William, both on account of the wrong done to him in the matter of
Montreuil and also on account of the insult offered to him at Attigny.
And in fact the two narratives to a certain degree incidentally
coincide. Richer (ii. 31) implies that Arnulf and his confederates
already had a grudge against William before the meeting at Attigny; “Quæ
oratio [Ottonis sc.] plurimam invidiam paravit, ac amicos in odium
Wilelmi incitavit, quum et ipsi, quamvis latenter, ei admodum
inviderent.” Dudo, as we have seen, speaks of a conspiracy of Arnulf
with other princes of Gaul. It was not at all unnatural that the affair
of Attigny should be of primary importance in the eyes of Richer, and
that the affair of Montreuil should be of primary importance in the eyes
of Dudo. Attigny lay quite beyond the reach of ordinary Norman vision,
and William’s doings there might not seem very meritorious in Norman
eyes. It was certainly something to have put an open affront upon the
Eastern King; but it was perhaps hardly becoming in the independent lord
of the Norman monarchy (see page 221, and above, p. 621) to show such
ostentatious deference to the Western King. It is therefore quite
possible to put together a very probable narrative, taking in the main
statements both of Richer and of Dudo, but of course allowing for the
rhetorical and exaggerated form into which both of them throw their
details. This is very much what is done by Sir Francis Palgrave
(Normandy and England, ii. 299 et seqq.), only in one or two places he
gives the story a strange colouring of his own. I can find nothing about
William being himself too late, either on purpose or by accident. The
statement of Richer, as I read it, is simply that, whether by design or
by accident, he was shut out of the council-chamber. Again, Sir Francis
simply says that William “compelled King Otho to rise;” he says not a
word about William’s motive for so doing or about the exaggerated
loyalty which he displayed towards Lewis.
One can hardly doubt, on the authority of Flodoard and Richer, that
William was really killed at Picquigny by the machinations of Arnulf.
But there is quite another story, briefly alluded to by Sir Francis
Palgrave in two places (pp. 298, 303), which transfers the scene of the
murder from the Somme to the Seine. This version turns up in several
shapes. We get it in Rudolf Glaber (iii. 9. Duchesne, vol. iv. p. 38),
according to whom the chief criminal was Theobald of Chartres. Theobald
the Tricker is the first to devise the plot, and he is also the actual
murderer. In concert with Arnulf, William is invited by Theobald to a
conference somewhere on the Seine. Rudolf is not clear whether the
summons was sent in the name of the King or of the Duke of the French
(“promittens se ex parte regis Francorum seu Hugonis Magni, qui fuerat
filius Roberti regis, _quem Otto dux Saxonum, postea vero Imperator
Romanorum, Suessionis interfecit_”); that is to say, Rudolf already
failed to understand that there had been a time when the _Rex Francorum_
was quite a different person from the lord of Paris and the Seine. The
story of the murder then follows much as before, with the Seine for the
Somme and Theobald for Arnulf; only Theobald kills William with his own
hand.
In the Tours Chronicle (Duchesne, Rer. Franc, iii. 360) we find another
version; “Guillelmus filius Rollonis ducis Normanniæ a Balzone Curto in
medio Sequanæ occisus est, propter mortem Riulfi et filii sui
Anchetilli.” Now we found Balzo in Dudo’s account as the name of one of
William’s murderers, but we had no account of the man or of his motives.
He here appears as the avenger of Riulf, doubtless the Riulf who headed
the revolt against William in 932 (see p. 189). We then however heard
nothing of Riulf’s death, the statement of Dudo (96 D) being that
“Riulfus fugiendo evanuit.” But who is Anchetillus, Anquetil, Anscytel,
a palpable Dane like our own Thurcytels and Ulfcytels? And why should
Balzo avenge either Ancytel or Riulf? Here comes in the story of William
of Malmesbury, which he first tells (ii. 145) as if he fully believed
it, and then adds, as more trustworthy (“veraciores literæ dicunt”), an
abridgement of Dudo’s story. Anscytel (Oscytel) is the son of Riulf, a
Norman chief who had somehow incurred William Longsword’s displeasure,
and who greatly troubled him with his revolts. But Anscytel is the
faithful soldier of Duke William, and he carries his loyalty so far as
to take his father prisoner and to hand him over to the Duke. He does
however exact a promise that Riulf shall suffer no punishment worse than
bonds. But, not long after, Anscytel is sent by Duke William to Pavia
with a letter for a potentate described as the Duke of Italy, asking
that the bearer may be put to death (“Comes Anschetillum in Papiam
dirigit, epistolam de sua ipsius nece ad ducem Italiæ portantem”). This,
I need hardly say, is a story as old as Bellerophontês (Il. vi. 168) and
as modern as Godwine (see Note EEE). The Duke of Italy of course abhors
the crime, and, equally of course, is in dread of the power of his
brother of Normandy. A thousand horsemen are sent to attack Anscytel and
his companions as soon as they are out of the city. Anscytel, like the
Homeric Tydeus, was small in stature but valiant in war (“vir exigui
corporis sed immanis fortitudinis”—μικρὸς ἔην δέμας, ἀλλὰ μαχητής· Il.
v. 801), whence his surname _Curtus_. But, less successful than Tydeus
(Il. iv. 387; v. 803 et seqq.) or Bellerophontês (Il. vi. 188), Anscytel
and his comrades indeed slay all their enemies, but they are also all
slain themselves, except Balzo. This sole survivor, unlike Othryadês
(Herod, i. 82), does not kill himself, but at once accuses his immediate
lord Duke William in the court of his over-lord the King. Besides the
treachery practised against Anscytel, Riulf too, contrary to Duke
William’s promise, had been blinded in prison. The Duke of the Normans
is summoned by his over-lord to answer for the crime, and, somewhat
strangely, the court of the Carolingian King of Laon is held at Paris.
Thither Duke William humbly comes, and there he is, like Uhtred (see p.
379) and Eadwulf (see p. 527), killed by Balzo under the pretext of a
conference.
I need hardly say that this tale, as it stands, is a mere romance; but
it is an instructive romance, because it is so easy to trace out the
mythical elements out of which it is made up. Still, like most other
such stories, it most likely contains its kernel of truth. Balzo may
have been one of Riulf’s followers in the Côtentin, who took an
opportunity to revenge his chieftain’s defeat. More than this it would
be rash to infer. So the story in Rudolf Glaber may justify us in adding
Theobald of Chartres to the list of conspirators against William, and
the same story falls in with the charge against Hugh brought by Richer.
But there is no kind of need to breathe the least suspicion against King
Lewis; William was just then his firm friend, and any mention of the
King as having a hand in the business seems to be owing only to the fact
that the later writers had forgotten what were the true relations
between Laon and Paris in the days of William Longsword.
NOTE AA. p. 263.
LEADING MEN IN ENGLAND AT THE DEATH OF EADGAR.
Ælfhere of Mercia is called by Florence (983) “Regis Anglorum Eadgari
propinquus,” which most likely means kindred by the mother’s side. His
name is affixed to most of the charters of the time, and many acts in
Mercia are stated to be done by his consent. See, for instance, a
charter of Bishop Oswald (Cod. Dipl. iii. 5), where he bears the title
of “heretoga.” The Chronicles (A. 975), followed by Henry of Huntingdon
(M. H. B. 748 C), who calls him “consul nequissimus,” charge him with
actually destroying monasteries. Florence speaks only of his bringing in
married priests and their wives. In some cases it appears that former
owners of lands then in monastic occupation laid legal claims to them as
having been taken from them unjustly. See Hist. El. lib. i. c. 5, 8;
Gale, pp. 465, 467. It is curious to find among these claimants against
the monastery of Ely no less a person than Ealdorman Æthelwine himself
(Hist. El. lib. i. c. 5). Æthelwine, worshipped at Ramsey, was thought
much less highly of at Ely, just as we shall find Harold spoken of very
differently at Wells and at Waltham.
Of the house of the Ealdormen of the East-Angles, of whom Æthelwine, who
has just been mentioned, was the most famous, we can get a still more
distinct idea. See Florence, A. 975, 991; Hist. Rams. 387, Gale.
Æthelwine was the youngest son of Æthelstan, surnamed the Half-king
(Hist. Rams., u. s.), Ealdorman of the East-Angles, who seems to have
died about 967, when we find his last signature (Cod. Dipl. iii. 16). He
married (Hist. El. ii. 8; Gale, p. 495) Æthelflæd, daughter of
Brihthelm, and sister of the famous Ealdorman Brihtnoth, of whom we
shall hear more presently. They had four sons, Æthelwold, Ælfwold,
Æthelsige, and Æthelwine. Of these, the eldest and youngest were in turn
joined with their father in the government of East-Anglia. Æthelwold,
whose widow Ælfthryth married King Eadgar in 964 (when Florence calls
him “gloriosus dux Orientalium Anglorum”), signs several charters as
_dux_ down to 962, probably the year of his death. From that year his
youngest brother (see Florence, 992) Æthelwine takes his place. It is
not easy to see why Ælfwold was excluded, as he lived on in a private
station, and was on good terms with his brother the Ealdorman (Fl. Wig.
A. 975). Æthelsige also, the third brother, signs many charters with the
title of “minister,” that is, Thegn. Æthelwine died in 992 (Fl. Wig.
992). The portentous title of “totius [Orientalis?] Angliæ aldermannus,”
said (see Hist. Rams. p. 462) to have been inscribed on his grave, is
hardly credible, but it has its parallels in the title of “Dux
Francorum,” borne by the contemporary Lords of Paris, in that of
“Princeps Francorum” borne by the Mayors of the Palace in earlier days
(Ann. Mett. 621; Pertz, i. 320, &c.), and in that of “Dux Anglorum”
given by the Bayeux Tapestry to Harold when Earl of the West-Saxons. Who
succeeded him in his earldom is not very clear. He had a son Æthelweard,
who died at Assandun in 1016. Florence calls him “Æthelwardus dux,
filius ducis East-Anglorum Æthelwini Dei amici,” but the Chronicles call
him simply “Æþlweard Æþelwines sunu ealdormannes.” The testimony of
Florence shows that “Æþelwines,” the reading of the Abingdon Chronicle,
is the right one. Worcester has “Ælfwines,” Peterborough, more
remarkably, “Æðelsiges.” The question as to the right of this Æthelweard
to the title of “dux” at once leads us to the position of the famous
Ulfcytel of East-Anglia, of whom see below, Note HH. With regard to
Æthelsige, the question at once arises whether this is the Æthelsige of
whom Æthelred speaks in a charter of 999 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 305) as having
beguiled him into his spoliation of the see of Rochester. See above, p.
267. This Æthelsige, he complains, corrupted his innocent youth, and he
draws a fearful picture of his evil deeds in various ways. He was at
last punished by the loss of all his own honours and property. This is
no doubt the Æthelsige who signs many of the earlier charters of
Æthelred (Cod. Dipl. iii. 171, 190, 202, 212, 216, 222, 224, 228, 280);
but it is not clear either whether this is our Æthelsige, or whether
either of them is the same as the captain who ravaged South Wales in
991.
Of Brihtnoth, the uncle and ally of Æthelwine, we shall hear again as
the hero of Maldon (see p. 270). Of the many ways of spelling his name
and kindred names, Brihtric and the like, _Briht_noth is the one which I
prefer. _Beorht_ is the older, _briht_ the later form of the word; so
that _Beorhtnoth_ and _Brihtnoth_ are the correct earlier and later
forms of the name. _Byrhtnoth_ and other spellings are simply
transitional and irregular.
Brihtnoth, we learn from the Song of Maldon, was the son of Brihthelm. I
take him to be the same as Brihtnoth the Thegn, to whom a grant of land
is made by Eadgar in 967 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 15), and who signs as
“minister,” another man of the same name signing as “dux.” This elder
Ealdorman Brithnoth can be traced back to the beginning of Eadgar’s
reign. It is not easy to say to which of these two Brihtnoths the
signatures of “Brihtnoth dux” in the latter years of Eadgar belong. Nor
is it clear which of the two it is to whom Eadgar makes another grant of
land in 967 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 82). But it is certain that our Brihtnoth
had attained the rank of Ealdorman before the death of Eadgar in 975. In
991 he was an old man, “Hár hilderinc.” It should be noticed that
Brihtnoth the Thegn gives the lands granted him by the King to the
church of Worcester, an act eminently characteristic of our Brihtnoth.
There is another notice of Brihtnoth in a charter of Æthelred of 1005
(Cod. Dipl. iii. 339), which seems to contain a reference to a genuine
will of his. In the confirmation charter of Eynsham abbey the King—“ego
Eðelredus, multiplici Dei clementia indulgente, Angul-Saxonum antedictus
rex, cæterarumque gentium longe lateque per circuitum gubernator et
rector”—records among other gifts, “villam quæ Scipford dicitur dedit
vir prædictus [the founder Æthelmar] ad monasterium antedictum, quam ei
Leofwinus suus consanguineus spiritu in ultimo constitutus donavit,
_quam Birhtnoðus antea dux præclarus ab Eadgaro patre meo dignis præmium
pro meritis accipere lætabatur_; Micclantun similiter ad monasterium
dedit, quam ille _Birhtnoðus dux prædictus ultimo commisit dono ab
Eadgaro quoque ei antea donatam et in cartula firmiter commendatam_.” We
here see the favour in which Brihtnoth stood with Eadgar.
Brihtnoth appears also in the will of Æthelflæd (recited in that of
Ælflæd, Cod. Dipl. iii. 271), a document of the reign of Eadgar. Large
bequests are made to the Ealdorman by Æthelflæd; but his death seems to
have hindered their taking effect, as a different disposal of the
property is made by Ælflæd. Mr. Thorpe (Dipl. Ang. 519) identifies this
Æthelflæd with the widow of King Eadmund, but his reference to the
Chronicles should be 946 instead of 925. Brihtnoth had married
Æthelflæd’s sister. As his own widow bore the same name, was she a
second wife, or were there two sisters both called Æthelflæd? We find
another case of three Æthelflæds in one family, p. 521. In the alleged
will of Brihtnoth himself in Palgrave, ii. ccxxiii., I put very little
faith.
The accounts of Brihtnoth in the Histories of Ely and Ramsey seem to be
mixed up with a good deal of fable. They both (Ramsey, c. lxxi.; Gale,
p. 422; Ely, lib. ii. c. 6; Gale, p. 493) tell a story how the
Ealdorman, on his march against the Danes, came to Ramsey and asked for
food for his army. The niggardly Abbot Wulfsige was ready to entertain
the Ealdorman and a few select companions, but he would not undertake to
feed the whole host. Brihtnoth, like Alexander, will partake of nothing
in which all his soldiers cannot share, and marches on to Ely, where
Abbot Ælfsige receives the whole multitude. Brihtnoth accordingly gives
to the abbey of Ely certain lands which he had intended for that of
Ramsey. This is hardly history; we see too clearly the stories of Gideon
and the elders of Succoth and of David and Abiathar the Priest. It is
also hard to see how a march to Maldon from any part of Brihtnoth’s
government could lead him by either Ramsey or Ely. The Ely History
escapes this difficulty by making him Earl of the Northumbrians instead
of the East-Saxons, and by making two battles of Maldon. Brihtnoth,
victorious in the former, returns to Northumberland; the Danes land
again; Brihtnoth comes from Northumberland, taking the two abbeys on his
march; he then fights the second battle, in which, after _fourteen days_
of combat, he is killed.
Of the three Thegns of Lindesey or Deira, who played such a cowardly
part in 993 (see p. 283), two at least are known to us by the charters
of Eadgar’s reign. The account of the affair in the Chronicles is
simply, “Þa onstealdon þa _heretogan_ ærest þone fleam· þæt wæs Fræna
and Godwine and Friðegist.” Florence expands somewhat; “Duces exercitus,
Frana videlicet, Frithogist, et Godwinus, quia ex paterno genere Danici
fuerunt, suis insidiantes, auctores fugæ primitus exstiterunt.” The
words “ex paterno genere” would imply that the earlier Danish settlers,
like the followers of Cnut and of William afterwards, often took English
wives. Also Florence translates “heretogan” by “duces _exercitus_,” lest
“heretogan” should be taken to imply the permanent rank of Ealdorman.
Neither Fræna nor Frithegist ever held that rank. They sign charters in
abundance, from the days of Eadgar onwards, but never with any higher
rank than that of “minister” or “miles.” Fræna signs a great many
charters long after this. In 995 he signs two of Æscwig, Bishop of
Dorchester (Cod. Dipl. iii. 286, 288), which probably implies that he
belonged to Lindesey and not to Deira. Of Godwine we may suspect that he
also was of Lindesey, that he reformed, and rose to the rank of
Ealdorman. Godwine, Ealdorman of Lindesey, who died at Assandun in 1016,
is most likely the man here spoken of; but Godwine is so common a name
that it is impossible to say to whom all the signatures of “Godwine
minister” belong. Sometimes two or more Godwines sign without further
distinction.
These are the chief men of the days of Eadgar who are also heard of
under Æthelred, with the exception of those who are connected with
Northumberland, of whom I shall speak in a separate Note (KK). It would
also be easy, by the help of the charters, to trace the succession and
promotions of several men of less renown.
NOTE BB. p. 265.
THE ELECTION OF EADWARD THE MARTYR.
The Chronicles do not, either in prose or in verse, say anything about
the disputed election which is said to have followed the death of
Eadgar, though three of them notice in verse that the crown passed to a
minor. Eadgar dies,
“And feng his bearn syððan
Tó cynerice,
Cild únweaxen.
Eorla ealdor;
Þam wæs Eadweard nama.”
Either there is here a play on the words “ealdor” and “cild únweaxen,”
or else the passage is a sign how utterly the word “ealdor” had lost its
primitive sense.
Florence describes the disputed election very clearly;
“De rege eligendo magna inter regni primores oborta est dissensio;
quidam namque regis filium Edwardum, quidam vero fratrem illius
elegerunt Ægelredum. Quam ob caussam archipræsules Dunstanus et
Oswaldus, cum coepiscopis, abbatibus, ducibusque quam plurimis, in unum
convenerunt, et Eadwardum, ut pater suus præceperat, elegerunt; electum
consecraverunt et in regem unxerunt.”
William of Malmesbury (ii. 161) makes Eadward be supported by Dunstan
and certain Bishops in opposition to the Lady Ælfthryth and a party of
the nobles; “contra voluntatem quorumdam, ut aiunt, optimatum et
novercæ, quæ vixdum septem annorum puerulum Egelredum filium provehere
conabatur, ut ipsa potius sub ejus nomine imperitaret.”
Osbern, the biographer of Dunstan (Anglia Sacra, ii. 113), speaks of
Eadward as the heir, but says that some of the chief nobles objected to
his election (“in cujus electione dum quidam principes palatini
adquiescere nollent”) because of their fears from his supposed character
(“existimantes juvenem regem inhumanum futurum, consilia sapientum non
curaturum, sed pro libidine omnia acturum”). Eadmer, in his Life of
Dunstan (Ang. Sac. ii. 220), makes them dread his severe justice (“quia
morum illius severitatem, qua in suorum excessus acriter sævire
consueverat, suspectam habebat”). They also object that he was not the
son of a crowned King and his Lady (“quia matrem ejus, licet legaliter
nuptam, in regnum tamen non magis quam patrem ejus dum eum genuit
sacratam fuisse sciebant”). Waitz (iii. 65) remarks, when Pope Stephen
anointed the sons of Pippin along with their father, “dass dies
geschehen sei, um den vor der Wahl gebornen Söhnen das volle Erbrecht zu
geben und die Möglichkeit zu entfernen, dass man etwa später gebornen
Söhnen einen Vorrang beilege.” In both these accounts the matter is
brought to an issue by the vigorous action of Dunstan.
One would like to know how far there is any truth in these statements of
the objections brought against Eadward. One would have thought that
there could not have been much to fear from either the virtues or the
vices of a boy of his years. But the objection brought against him on
the ground of his not being of kingly birth is much more likely to be a
piece of genuine tradition. The difficulty about it is that, as
Lappenberg remarks, it was an objection which told just as much against
Æthelred as against Eadward. For the meaning can hardly be other than
that Eadward was born before his father’s coronation at Bath in 974,
which Æthelred was also. Otherwise the objection would really be a good
one, and it was used long after on behalf of Henry the First against his
elder brothers. (Cf. Herod. vii. 2–3.) Perhaps all that was meant was to
deny that Eadward had any _preference_ over his half-brother, so that
the two boys might be candidates on equal terms.
I may add that the Bath coronation of Eadgar is to me one of the most
puzzling things in our history. I should have taken it to be, according
to one story, a mere taking again of the crown after the penance for the
matter of Wulfthryth; only the Chronicles, which have hitherto freely
called Eadgar King, in recording the coronation pointedly call him
Ætheling.
NOTE CC. p. 278.
THE TWO ÆLFRICS.
Who was Ælfric, and how many Ælfrics were there? An Ælfric, son of
Ælfhere of Mercia, had, as we have seen, succeeded his father in the
government of that country, and had been banished five years before (see
p. 268) the time which we have reached. An Ealdorman Ælfric died
fighting for his country twenty-five years later (see p. 293). Most
likely these are three distinct persons; but, as the Ælfric of whom we
are now speaking was pardoned after crimes which might seem
unpardonable, he might easily be thought to be the same as the already
banished son of Ælfhere. At the same time it should be noticed that
Florence in no way identifies the Ælfric of 991 with the banished Ælfric
of 986, while he takes great pains to show that the Ælfric of 991 is the
same as the traitor of 992 (“Alfricum cujus supra meminimus”) and of
1003 (“Alfricus dux supra memoratus”). The charters also seem to show
that Ælfric the son of Ælfhere and the Ælfric of 991 are two distinct
persons. In 983 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 196) we have the signatures of “Ælfhere
dux,” “Ælfric dux.” In another charter of the same year we find these
two signatures and also those of two persons called “Ælfric minister.”
In 984 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 202) we find two signatures of “Ælfric dux” and
one of “Ælfric minister.” In 984 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 203) we find “Ælfric
ealdorman” addressed along with “ealle þa þegenas on Hámtúnscire.” A
mention of Bishop Ælfheah in the charter shows that this means Hampshire
and not Northamptonshire, and Ælfric the traitor seems to command the
men of Hampshire in 1003 (see p. 318). In Cod. Dipl. iii. 292 we have
mention of an “Ælfric ealdorman” who seems to have jurisdiction in
Berkshire; his government may easily have taken in the two adjoining
shires. I infer, then, that Ælfric the traitor was not Ealdorman of the
Mercians, but of Hampshire and Berkshire, and that he was appointed in
or before 983, when we find his signature along with that of Ælfhere.
Ælfric the son of Ælfhere succeeded his father in Mercia in 983; in 984
therefore there were two Ealdormen of the name, and we find the
signatures of both.
Another argument to the same effect is supplied by two charters which
evidently refer to the banishment of Ælfric the son of Ælfhere. One in
Cod. Dipl. vi. 174, attributed to the year 993, granting certain lands
to the monastery of Abingdon, says, “Has terrarum portiones Alfric
cognomento puer a quadam vidua Eadfled appellata violenter abstraxit, ac
deinde quum in ducatu suo contra me et contra omnem gentem meam reus
exsisteret ... quando ad synodale concilium ad Cyrneceastre universi
optimates mei simul in unum convenerunt, et eumdem Alfricum majestatis
reum de hac patria profugum expulerunt.” The other charter, of 999 (Cod.
Dipl. iii. 312, Hist. Abingdon. i. 373), states much the same of a
person described as “comes vocitamine Ælfric.” This charter is signed by
an “Ælfric dux,” that is, no doubt, Ælfric of Hampshire. “Alfricus
cyld,” that is, of course, “cognomento puer,” is spoken of also in the
Ely History (i. 12, Gale) as a man of importance, as the son of
Ealdorman Ælfhere would be, before Æthelred was King (969–979). The
description of the Witenagemót at Cirencester reads very like the
banishment in 986.
As for the hero of Assandun, I can only say that the name Ælfric is
exceedingly common, and that it is open to us to identify him with any
of the men who sign as “Ælfric minister.”
I am thankful that I have only to deal with the lay Ælfrics. There is an
ecclesiastical difficulty of the same kind which I cheerfully leave in
the hands of Professor Stubbs.
NOTE DD. p. 279.
THE TREATY WITH OLAF AND JUSTIN.
The text of the Treaty is given in Thorpe, i. 284; Schmid, 204. It is
drawn up between King Æthelred and his Witan on the one side and the
invading army on the other. “Þis synd þâ frið-mâl and þâ forword, þe
Æðelred cyng and ealle his witan wið þone here gedôn habbað, þe Anlaf
and Justin and Guðmund Stegitan sunu mid wæ̂ron.” It must belong to this
year, and, if so, it seems to prove that Olaf Tryggvesson was present,
and also that he was not yet either King or catechumen. Had the document
belonged to the later dealings with Olaf, he would hardly have been
placed alongside with Justin and Guthmund, but some notice would have
been taken both of his Christianity and of his royal rank. Compare the
different language of the treaties of Ælfred with the first and of
Eadward with the second Guthrum, Thorpe, i. 152, 166; Schmid, 106, 118.
The treaty between Ælfred and Guthrum is drawn up between “Ælfred
cynincg and Gŷðrûm cyning and ealles Angelcynnes witan and eal seô þeôd
þe on Eâst-Englum beôð.” That between Eadward and the second Guthrum is
between “Eadward cyng and Gûðrûm cyng,” and the Christianity of both
sides is distinctly set forth. Schmid (p. li.) supposes, either that the
Anlaf here spoken of was another person from Olaf Tryggvesson, or else
that the name Anlaf is an interpolation in the text. But surely these
suppositions are rather violent, when the matter can be explained
without recourse to them.
By this treaty provision is made for wergilds, for the reception of
merchants, and for various civil contingencies, which clearly imply that
a long stay was expected on the part of the Northmen. Neither side is to
receive the other’s thieves, foes, or _Welshmen_ (Schmid, 208). “And þæt
naðor ne hy ne we underfon oðres Wealh ne oðres þeof ne oðres gefan.”
The _Wealas_ of the Northmen must have been simply their prisoners or
servants of any kind, many of them perhaps Englishmen. So completely had
the word shared the fate of the word _Slave_, as is still more plainly
the case with the feminine form _Wylne_.
On the use of the word _Englaland_ in the treaty, see above, p. 538.
NOTE EE. pp. 285, 302.
THE RELATIONS OF ÆTHELRED WITH NORMANDY.
The English Chronicles, and also Florence, are silent as to any
intercourse, whether friendly or hostile, between England and Normandy
earlier than the marriage of Æthelred and Emma. The one passage which
has been sometimes thought to refer to one of the events recorded in the
text cannot possibly have that meaning. The entry in the Chronicles in
the year 1000, “And se unfrið flota wæs ðæs sumeres gewend to Ricardes
rice,” can refer only to the Danish fleet. “Unfrið flota” must be taken
in the same sense as “unfrið here” in the year 1009. And so it is taken
by Florence; “Danorum classis præfata hoc anno Nortmanniam petit.” We
are thus left wholly to the testimony of inferior authorities, and we
must get such an amount of truth out of them as we can.
I have, in my text, after some hesitation, described two disputes
between Æthelred and the Norman Dukes. The first quarrel was with
Richard the Fearless in 991, which was appeased by the intervention of
Pope John the Fifteenth; the second was with Richard the Good in 1000,
which led to open hostilities which are described as an English invasion
of the Côtentin. The stories rest respectively on the authority of
William of Malmesbury (ii. 165, 6), and of William of Jumièges (v. 4).
It is open to any one to reject both stories. It is still more open to
any one to reject the second story, the exaggerated character of which
is manifest, and the chronology of which must be a year or two wrong.
But I do not think that it is safe to take them, with Sir Francis
Palgrave (England and Normandy, iii. 103), and Dr. Lappenberg (p. 421 of
the original, ii. 154 Thorpe), as different versions of one event, still
less to fix, with Sir Francis, that event to the later date of the two.
William of Malmesbury tells us very little in his own name. He says only
that Richard the Fearless had provoked Æthelred in various ways (“vir
eximius, qui etiam Edelredum sæpe injuriis pulsaverit”), and that Pope
John, wishing to hinder war among Christians (“non passa sedes
apostolica duos Christianos digladiari”), sent Leo Bishop of Trier into
England to make peace. A document then follows, described as the
“legationis epistola” of this prelate, which contains an account of his
mission, and gives the terms of the peace between Æthelred and Richard,
and the names of the plenipotentiaries on both sides. The document is
very strange in point of form, as it begins in the name of the Pope,
while the latter part clearly gives the actual words of the treaty. Sir
Francis Palgrave (iii. 106) objects to the genuineness of the letter
that its style is unusual, if not unparalleled, which it certainly is.
It runs thus; “Johannes quintus decimus, sanctæ Romanæ ecclesiæ Papa,
omnibus fidelibus.” Sir Francis does not mention another objection,
namely, that neither in 991 nor in 1001 was the Archbishop of Trier
named Leo. The reigning Archbishop in 991 was Eckebert; before 1000 he
had been succeeded by Ludolf (Gesta Treverorum, ap. Pertz, viii.
169–171). But Sir Francis (iii. 107) adds, “While we reject the
convention in the shape now presented, we accept its import.—The quarrel
and the reconciliation are unquestionable verities.” But the quarrel and
reconciliation recorded by William of Malmesbury are a quarrel and
reconciliation between Æthelred and Richard the Fearless in a definite
year 991. They cannot be turned into a quarrel and reconciliation
between Æthelred and Richard the Good nine years later. The apparently
wrong name of the papal legate is a difficulty either way, but it is not
a very formidable one. Lappenberg (p. 422 of the original German) calls
Leo “_Vice_bischof von Trier,” which Mr. Thorpe (ii. 154) translates
simply “Bishop.” Lappenberg gives no reference for his description of
Leo; but a fact in German history may be safely accepted on his
authority, and the local history of Trier which I have just referred to
contains a statement which curiously fits in with our story. Archbishop
Eckebert (977–993), son of Theodoric, Count of Holland, was the son of
an English mother, and he kept up a close connexion with England. It is
therefore quite natural that either he or an officer of his church
should enter with zeal into a scheme for the advantage of a country
which Eckebert seems almost to have looked on as his own. The other
names are accurately given. John the Fifteenth was Pope, and Æthelsige
was Bishop of Sherborne, in 991. Both were dead in 1000. I think it
follows that the account in William of Malmesbury cannot possibly refer
to a transaction with Richard the Good in 1000. The story is definitely
fixed to the year 991.
Is then William of Malmesbury’s account ground enough for accepting a
quarrel between Æthelred and Richard the Fearless, and a reconciliation
brought about by Pope John Fifteenth? On the whole, I think it is. It is
not the kind of transaction which any one would invent, if nothing of
the sort happened at all, and it is hard to see to what other
transaction the account can refer. The story also, as it seems to me,
fits in well with the circumstances of the times. The “legationis
epistola” can hardly be genuine in its actual shape as a letter of the
Pope, but it seems to be made out of two genuine documents, a letter of
Pope John and the text of the treaty. The unusual style might be simply
the bungling attempt of a compiler to show which of all the Popes named
John was the one here meant. The treaty itself bears every sign of
genuineness, and the names of the plenipotentiaries are distinctly in
its favour. One of the Norman signatures is that of “Rogerus episcopus,”
and there was a Roger Bishop of Lisieux from 990 to 1024. The lesser
Norman plenipotentiaries I cannot identify, but on the English side, as
the Bishop is right, the Thegns also are right. A mere forger would not
have inserted such names as those of Leofstan and Æthelnoth. He would
either have put in names quite at a venture, or else have picked out the
names of some famous Ealdormen of the time. There could be no temptation
for a forger to pitch on Leofstan and Æthelnoth, real contemporary men,
but men of no special celebrity.
The reader has still to determine whether, accepting this account of
Æthelred’s quarrel with the elder Richard, he will go on to admit a
second quarrel with the younger Richard. The only question is whether
the story in William of Jumièges is pure invention, or whether its
manifestly exaggerated details contain some such kernel of truth as I
have supposed in the text. It certainly seems to me that to set the
whole affair down as a mere lie is attributing too much even to the
Norman power of lying, which I certainly have no wish to underrate. The
story, in its general outline, seems to fit in well with the position of
things at the time, and even with the character of Æthelred. But if we
accept it as thus far true, we must suppose that William of Jumièges
transposed the invasion of the Côtentin and the marriage of Emma. He
places the latter event first. Now the marriage would follow very
naturally on the conclusion of peace, while the invasion would not be at
all likely to follow the marriage. Sir Francis Palgrave silently
transposes the two events in the same way that I have done. He also
connects the invasion, as I have done, with the reception of Danish
vessels in the Norman havens. If this was, as I suppose, a breach of the
treaty of 991, the wrath of Æthelred becomes still more intelligible. In
this view of the matter, looking at the entry in the Chronicles under
the year 1000, we can hardly fail to fix the event in that year.
Lappenberg, whose note (p. 422) should be read in the original text,
takes the opposite view to Sir Francis Palgrave. He accepts the account
of the transaction in 991, but carries back the invasion of the Côtentin
to that year. This is at least more probable than Sir Francis’ version,
and perhaps some readers may be inclined to accept it rather than my
notion of two distinct disputes. But the narrative of William of
Jumièges connects the invasion in a marked way with the marriage of
Emma, though he has clearly confounded the order of events.
Roger of Wendover (i. 427) boldly carries back the marriage of Emma to
some date earlier than 990, and makes the quarrel between Æthelred and
her father arise out of his ill-treatment of her. He was misled by
William of Malmesbury’s characteristic contempt for chronological order.
NOTE FF. p. 300.
ÆTHELRED’S INVASION OF CUMBERLAND.
The Chronicles, followed by Florence, state the fact of Æthelred’s
expedition against Cumberland without any explanation of its motives;
“Her on þisum geare se cyning ferde in to Cumerlande, and hit swiðe neah
eall forheregode.” So Florence; “Rex Ægelredus terram Cumbrorum fere
totam depopulatus est.” For the motive of this unusual piece of energy
we have, in default of any better authority, to go to Fordun, iv. 35
(vol. i. p. 179 ed. Skene). He attributes it to Malcolm’s refusal to
contribute to the Danegeld. Having spoken of several of the payments
made to the Danes, he thus goes on;
“Unde rex Ethelredus regulo Cumbriæ supradicto Malcolmo scribens per
nuntium mandavit quod suos Cumbrenses tributa solvere cogeret, sicut
cæteri faciunt provinciales. Quod ille protinus contradicens rescripsit
suos aliud nullatenus debere vectigal, præterquam ad edictum regium,
quandocumque sibi placuerit, cum cæteris semper fore paratos ad
bellandum.... Hac caussa quidem, et sicut rex in ira motus asseruit, eo
quod regulus contra sacramentum sibi debitum Danis favebat, maximam ex
Cumbria prædam arripuit. Postea tamen concordes per omnia statim
effecti, pace firma de cætero convenerunt.”
This account seems so likely in itself that I have not scrupled to adopt
it in the text. But it must be compared with an account given by Henry
of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 750 A), which at first sight sounds very
different; “Exinde rex Edelred ivit in Cumberland cum exercitu
gravissimo, ubi maxima mansio Dacorum erat, vicitque Dacos bello maximo,
totamque fere Cumberland prædando vastavit.” Here is no mention of
Malcolm, and the Danes are described as being actually in possession of
the country, of which the other accounts give us no hint. But that
Malcolm was reigning in Cumberland at this time there is no doubt, and
if any Danes were settled there, they must have been settled by
Malcolm’s consent, willing or constrained. It is of course possible that
one ground of Æthelred’s wrath against Malcolm may have been that he had
not only refused to pay Danegeld, but had allowed Danes to settle in his
dominions. And it may be that we may here have lighted on the clew to
the great puzzle of Cumbrian ethnology. That Cumberland and Westmoreland
are to this day largely Scandinavian needs no proof. But we have no
record of the process by which they became so. In Northumberland and
East-Anglia we know when the Danes settled, and we know something of the
dynasties which they founded. But the Scandinavian settlement in
Cumberland—Norwegian no doubt rather than Danish—we know only by its
results. We have no statement as to its date, and we know that no
Scandinavian dynasty was founded there. The settlement must therefore
have been more peaceful and more gradual than the settlements in
Northumberland and East-Anglia, and the reign of Malcolm may have been
the time when it happened.
As I understand the story about the ships, the fleet, which had
doubtless been gathered in some of the southern ports, was to assemble
at Chester, and thence to sail to support the King’s land-force in
Cumberland. “His scypu,” say the Chronicles, “wendon ut abutan
Lægceaster, and sceoldon cuman ongean hyne: ac hî ne meahton.” But to
get to Chester they had to sail round Wales, which Florence expresses by
the words “mandavit ut, circumnavigata septemtrionali Brytannia, in loco
constituto sibi occurreret.” Lappenberg (430) takes “Monege” in the
Chronicles to be Anglesey; his translator (ii. 162), rightly I think,
substitutes Man, but he adds the strange assertion, of which there is no
trace in the original, that the fleet “was ordered to sail round the
north of the island,” as if “septemtrionalis Britannia” meant Caithness.
See p. 41, and the Winchester Chronicle, 922.
NOTE GG. p. 315.
THE MASSACRE OF SAINT BRICE.
The account of the massacre in the Chronicles stands thus; “On þam geare
se cyng hét ofslean ealle þa Deniscan men þa on Angelcynne wæron. Ðis
wæs gedon on Britius mæssedæg, forðam þam cynge wæs gecyd þæt hi woldon
hine besyrewan æt his life, and siððan ealle his witan, and habban
siððan þis rice.”
To this account I have in the present edition ventured to add one piece
of local detail, namely the story of the Danes at Oxford who took refuge
in Saint Frithswyth’s minster. This is recorded in the charter of
Æthelred in Cod. Dipl. iii. 327, which is marked by Mr. Kemble as
spurious or doubtful, but which I am now inclined to follow Mr. James
Parker (Historical Notices of Oxford, p. 20) in accepting as at all
events recording a real fact. The story runs thus; “Omnibus in hac
patria degentibus sat constat fore notissimum, quoddam a me decretum cum
concilio optimatum satrapumque meorum exivit ut cuncti Dani qui in hac
insula, velut lolium inter triticum, pullulando emerserant justissima
examinatione necarentur, hocque decretum morte tenus ad effectum
perduceretur, ipsi quique in præfata urbe [Oxonefordæ] morabantur Dani
mortem evadere nitentes, hoc Christi sacrarium, fractis per vim valvis
et pessulis, intrantes, asylum sibi propugnaculumque contra urbanos
suburbanosque ibi fieri decreverunt; sed cum populus omnis insequens,
necessitate compulsus, eos ejicere niteretur nec valeret, igne tabulis
injecto hanc ecclesiam, ut liquet, cum munimentis ac libris
combusserunt.” I am now inclined to accept this story, and to hold that
it has been wrongly transferred by William of Malmesbury to the time of
the murder of Sigeferth and Morkere at Oxford in 1015. His story runs
thus (ii. 179). After describing the murder of the two Thegns, much as
in the Chronicle, but with some further details, he adds, “clientuli
eorum, dominorum necem vindicare conantes, armis repulsi et in turrim
ecclesiæ Sanctæ Frideswidæ coacti, unde dum ejici nequirent, incendio
conflagrati. Sed mox regis pœnitentia, eliminata spurcitia, sacrarium
reparatum; legi ego scriptum quod in archivo ejusdem ecclesiæ continetur
index facti.” This certainly looks very much as if William had seen the
original of the charter, which records the reparation of the church
(“Dei adjutorio a me et a meis constat renovata”), and had put the story
at a wrong time. That this is so is almost proved by the date. Æthelred
could have had no time for church restoration between the Gemót of 1015
and his death in 1016. Between the massacre in 1002 and the date of the
charter in 1004, though the state of things was not very favourable for
such works, he had rather more time. The confusion between the two
stories was easy. Sigeferth and Morkere and their followers, though not
Danes in the same sense as the victims of Saint Brice, were almost
certainly of Danish descent.
In Florence we get the first touch of amplification in the general
story. The rest of the passage he merely translates, but the words
“ealle þa Deniscan men þa on Angelcynne wæron” become “omnes Danos
Angliam incolentes, majores et minores, _utriusque sexus_.” This is the
first hint of any slaughter of women, and it is confined to Danish
women.
William of Malmesbury directly mentions the massacre twice. The first
time (ii. 165) it comes in almost incidentally, in a rhetorical passage
about the character of Æthelred and the wretchedness of his reign. He
speaks of “Danos, quos levibus suspicionibus omnes uno die in tota
Anglia trucidari jusserat, ubi fuit videre miseriam, dum quisque
carissimos hospites, quos etiam arctissima necessitudo dulciores
effecerat, cogeretur prodere et amplexus gladio deturbare.” We begin
here to get a dim vision of Danes possessed of English wives or
mistresses. In the other passage (ii. 177) he describes the slaughter of
Pallig, Gunhild, and their son, which is again brought in incidentally,
as the moving cause of Swegen’s great invasion in 1013. Gunhild, “non
illepidæ formæ virago,” had given herself as a hostage on the conclusion
of peace with the Danes (“accepta Christianitate, obsidem se Danicæ
pacis fecerat”). She was beheaded by order of Eadric (“eam cum cæteris
Danis infaustus furor Edrici decapitari jusserat”), and, before her own
death, she had to see her husband killed in some undescribed way, and
her son, a promising lad, pierced with four spears (“occiso prius ante
ora marito, et filio, commodæ indolis puero, quattuor lanceis forato”).
I suspect, as I said in the text, that the notion of a massacre of
women, which we find even in Florence, arose out of this one tale of
Gunhild. In William of Jumièges (v. 6) we get some soul-harrowing
details;
“Edelredus, Anglorum rex, regnum, quod sub magna potentissimorum regum
gloria diu floruerat, tanto nefariæ proditionis scelere regiminis sui
tempore polluit, ut et pagani tam exsecrabile nefas horrendum
judicarent. Nam Danos per omne regnum unanimi concordia secum
cohabitantes, mortis periculum minime suspicantes, subito furore sub una
die perimi, mulieres quoque alvo tenus terræ esse defossas, et
ferocissimis canibus concitatis mamillas ab earum pectoribus crudeliter
extorqueri, lactentes vero pueros ad domorum postes allisos excerebrari
jussit, nullis criminum existentibus culpis.”
Here we have only Danish women and Danish children. In the Roman de Rou
(6352 et seqq.) we get the first hint of a massacre of English women. It
is not directly asserted, but it seems to be implied.
“En Engleterre erent Daneis
Cumunément od li Engleis,
Des Englesches fames perneient,
Filz et filles asez aveient.”
(vv. 6358–6361.)
Then we read an account of nearly the same horrors as in William of
Jumièges, with some improvements. The details of the throat-cutting are
given more minutely; we hear also of embowelling (“et as auquanz
esbueloent”), and not only dogs but bears are employed to tear off the
breasts of the women.
“Li dames è li dameseiles
Enfoient tresk ’as mameles,
Poiz amenoient li gainuns,
Ors enchaenez è brohuns,
Ki lur traient li cerveles
E desrumpeient li mameles.”
(vv. 6384–6389.)
In both accounts the destruction is all but complete; certain young men,
two or more—“quidam juvenes” in William of Jumièges, “douz valez” in
Wace—escape—according to William—in a ship which they found in the
Thames, and carry the news to King Swegen in Denmark.
We now turn to John of Wallingford, who died in 1214, and who (Gale, ii.
547) knows much more about the matter. The Danes were far from being
such comfortable neighbours to the English as they appear in the two
Norman accounts. They held all the chief towns and did much mischief;
“optima terræ municipia vel occupaverant vel præparaverant, et genti
terræ multas molestias inferebant.” But the chief evil was the way in
which they made themselves too agreeable to the English women. They took
great care of their persons; they changed their clothes often, they
combed their hair every day, and took a bath every Saturday; “habebant
ex consuetudine patriæ unoquoque die comam pectere, sabbatis balneare,
sæpe etiam vestituram mutare, et formam corporis multis talibus frivolis
adjuvare.” The consequence was that many English matrons broke their
marriage vows and many noble maidens became mistresses of Danes. Many
wars and confusions arose out of these and the other evil deeds of the
Danes, till it was settled that each province should get rid of its own
Danes; “ut quælibet provincia suos Danos occideret.” They were
accordingly all killed on Saturday, their bathing-day. John of
Wallingford does not mention the day of Saint Brice, but in 1002 that
festival would really fall on a Saturday. Here we get the destruction of
women and children; but they are now distinctly the English women who
had yielded to the seductions of the Danes and the children who were
born of these unlawful unions; “ipsas mulieres suas, quæ luxuriæ eorum
consenserant, et pueros, qui ex fœditate adulterii nati erant.” John of
Wallingford does not employ either dogs or bears for the torture of the
women; he is satisfied with cutting off their breasts; but those who had
their breasts cut off and those who were put in the ground—in Italian
phrase “planted”—now form two classes, while before there was only one;
“mammas quarumdam absciderunt, alias vivas terræ infoderunt.” The number
of young men who escape is raised to twelve.
I must now go back a generation or two to Henry of Huntingdon. He was
living in 1154, yet he seems to profess to get his information from
contemporaries—“de quo scelere in pueritia nostra quosdam vetustissimos
loqui audivimus.” Æthelred, according to his account (M. H. B. 752 A),
was puffed up with his marriage with Emma (“quo proventu rex Adelred in
superbiam elatus”), and so massacred the Danes. He sent letters secretly
to every town, ordering them to be put to death at one and the same
hour, which was done on Saint Brice’s day. Some were slain with the
sword, others were burned; “vel gladiis truncaverunt inpræmeditatos, vel
igne simul cremaverunt subito comprehensos.” There is no mention of
women, not even of Gunhild. This account of Henry of Huntingdon appears
in an abridged form in Æthelred of Rievaux (Gen. Regg. X Scriptt. 362),
who sarcastically adds that his royal namesake was “fortior solito,”
though directly after he calls him, seemingly in earnest, “rex
strenuissimus.”
Roger of Wendover (i. 444) transfers the story to the year 1012. In his
version Swegen is present in England at the time of the death of
Ælfheah; the tribute is paid; on its payment the Danes and English made
a league of brotherhood to have but one heart and one soul; Swegen goes
back to Denmark; then comes the massacre, on which Swegen comes back for
his last invasion. The instigator of the massacre was “Huna quidam,
regis Ethelredi militiæ princeps, vir strenuus et bellicosus.” The
relations between Danes and English women are here, as in John of
Wallingford, a chief ground of offence, but they take a somewhat
different form; “Dani ... per totam Angliam adeo invaluerant, quod
uxores virorum nobilium regni et filias violenter opprimere et ubique
ludibrio tradere præsumpserunt.” We hear nothing of the Saturday bath
and the other attractions of the Danes. Huna—a man who does not appear
in history, but of whom we shall hear again in romance—complains of this
state of things, and, by his advice, letters for a general massacre on
Saint Brice’s day are sent to all parts, much as in Henry of Huntingdon.
The Danes, “qui paullo ante cum Anglis, additio juramento, fuerant
confœderati ut pacifice cum illis habitarent,” are massacred; the women
too—what women we are not told—are killed with their children, but now
both are killed by being dashed against door-posts; “mulieres cum
parvulis ad postes domorum allisæ animas miserabiliter effuderunt.”
Young men (“quidam juvenes”) take the news to Swegen as before.
Immediately after this, Roger goes on to tell the story of Gunhild in a
form founded on that of William of Malmesbury, but with some
improvements. Not only Gunhild herself, but her husband and son are
hostages (“virago prudentissima, inter Danos et Anglos pacis mediatrix
exsistens, obsidem sese cum viro et unico quem habebat filio, Ethelredo
regi ad pacis securitatem dedit”), a thing plainly impossible in the
case of Pallig. William of Malmesbury had mentioned Eadric in connexion
with her death, probably because he looked on Eadric as the author of
the whole scheme of massacre. But, as Huna fills that post in Roger’s
story, Eadric becomes the special gaoler of Gunhild; “hæc quum fuisset a
rege Eadrico _duci_”—which he was in 1012, though not in 1002—“ad
custodiendum commissa.” Her death, by Eadric’s order, and that of Pallig
and their son, follow much as in William of Malmesbury.
Here is a good case of the growth of legend, but the growth of legend is
not all. It is easy to see from this last account that the massacre of
Saint Brice got mixed up with quite different stories belonging to quite
different dates, of which I shall have to speak again.
The massacre of Saint Brice may be compared with the two massacres of
the Goths recorded by Ammianus, xxxi. 16; Zôsimos, iv. 26, 27, v. 35.
The former, which was done “datis tectioribus litteris,” is distinctly
approved by both historians; they speak of the “consilium prudens” and
ἀγχινοία of Julius, the Eadric of the story, who took care that
Theodosius, unlike Æthelred, should not know of his scheme. The second
is a massacre of women and children.
NOTE HH. p. 322.
ULFCYTEL OF EAST-ANGLIA.
I have some doubt as to the formal position of Ulfcytel. The Latin
writers all give him titles equivalent to Earl or Ealdorman. In Florence
(1004) he is “magnæ strenuitatis dux East-Anglorum Ulfketel.” So Henry
of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 752 C) calls him “Wlfketel dux illius
provinciæ,” and William of Malmesbury (ii. 165) “comes Orientalium
Anglorum Ulfkillus.” But the Chronicles introduce him at this point
without any title, and though he signs several charters, as in this year
in Cod. Dipl. iii. 334, in 1005 (iii. 346), and in 1012 (iii. 358), he
uses no higher titles than “minister” and “miles.” On the other hand the
Chronicles, in recording his death in 1016, seem to call him Ealdorman
by implication; “Godwine ealdorman on Lindesige and Ulfcytel on
East-Anglum.” And, as we find him gathering the forces of the earldom
and summoning and consulting the local Witan, it is plain that he acted
with the full authority of an Ealdorman. It has sometimes struck me that
he may have been in some way a deputy of Æthelweard who died along with
him at Assandun, the son of the former Ealdorman Æthelwine. See Appendix
AA.
William of Malmesbury (u. s.) gives Ulfcytel the praise of being one who
“solus ex omnibus ... impigre contra invasores restitit.” He evidently
made a great impression on the Danes themselves. We see this, not only
from the passage in our own Chronicles quoted in p. 321, but from the
mention of him in the Sagas. They speak of him, as William of Malmesbury
does, by the contracted form Ulfkill or Ulfkell, as Thurcytel becomes
Thurkill. He bears the surname of Snilling, the Bold or Quick, and is
described in the Knytlinga Saga, c. 15 (Johnstone, 138), as “mikill
höfdingi.” His battle of Ringmere in 1010 (see p. 344) is there
strangely transferred to the war of Cnut and Eadmund in 1016. He appears
again in the Saga of Saint Olaf (Laing, ii. 11; Johnstone, 93), where
the battle of Ringmere is mixed up with the apocryphal and
unintelligible exploits of Olaf. It should be marked that East-Anglia is
called “Ulfkelsland,” just as our Chronicles talk of “Ricardes rice” and
“Baldwines land.” We meet him again in the Jomsvikinga Saga, c. 51
(Johnstone, 101), where he is described as ruler of the whole North of
England, and as married to Wulfhild daughter of King Æthelred (“Nordr
red fyrir Englandi Ulfkell Snillingr, hann átti Ulfhildi dottur Adalrads
konungs”). See Appendix SS.
NOTE II. p. 326.
THE RISE OF EADRIC.
I describe Eadric as I find him described in contemporary writers. I
fully admit that there is much in his character, actions, and general
position which is extremely puzzling; but I cannot undertake to be wise
above what is written, or to put a theory of my own in the place of the
unanimous witness of all our authorities. It has been ingeniously argued
that Eadric was simply a forerunner of Leofric, that he represents a
Mercian, therefore an intermediate, policy, which was misunderstood or
misrepresented by West-Saxon writers. But all our authorities,
West-Saxon as well as Mercian, agree in giving Leofric a very good
character; all our authorities, Mercian as well as West-Saxon, agree in
giving Eadric a very bad character. He has been called a “Trimmer,” and,
as such, he has been likened, not only to the Leofric of the generation
following his own, but to the Halifax of a much later age. The obvious
answer is that neither Leofric nor Halifax was ever charged with going
about murdering people in various parts of the kingdom. Now, as I have
already said (see p. 417), many of the particular crimes laid to the
charge of Eadric are open to much doubt; but the evident general belief
that, whenever any mischief was done, Eadric must have been the doer of
it, points to an universal estimate of his general character which
cannot have been mistaken.
The first mention of Eadric in the Chronicles is on his appointment to
the Ealdormanship of Mercia in 1007. He there comes in without any
notice of his character or parentage, but the opinion which the
Chroniclers had of him is shown plainly enough in other passages, as
when the death of Sigeferth and Morkere is described in 1015 and the
battle of Assandun in 1016. Florence first introduces him as “dolosus et
perfidus Edricus Streona,” in 1006, when he records the murder of
Ælfhelm. William of Malmesbury, as we have seen in the last Note,
attributes to him the murder of Gunhild in 1002, and perhaps the whole
plot for the destruction of the Danes. Florence gives a fuller character
of him in 1007, when recording his appointment as Ealdorman. It runs as
follows;
“Rex Edricum supra memoratum, Ægelrici filium, hominem humili quidem
genere, sed cui lingua divitias ac nobilitatem comparaverat, callentem
ingenio, suavem eloquio, et qui omnes id temporis mortales, tum invidia
atque perfidia, tum superbia et crudelitate, superavit, Merciorum
constituit ducem.”
These words of Florence seem to have been before William of Malmesbury,
when, in his general picture of the reign of Æthelred (ii. 165), after
speaking of the treasons of Ælfric, whom he confounds with the son of
Ælfhere, he goes on,
“Erat in talibus improbe idoneus Edricus, quem rex comitatui Merciorum
præfecerat; fæx hominum et dedecus Anglorum, flagitiosus helluo,
versutus nebulo, cui non nobilitas opes pepererat, sed lingua et audacia
comparaverat [“non” and “sed” are left out in some manuscripts, but they
are clearly needed to make up the sense]. Hic dissimulare cautus,
fingere paratus, consilia regis ut fidelis venabatur, ut proditor
disseminabat. Sæpe, ad hostes missus pacis mediator, pugnam accendit.
Cujus perfidia, quum crebro hujus regis tempore, tum vel maxime
sequentis apparuit.”
Henry of Huntingdon too, whose authority is of the most varying degrees
of value, but who always represents an independent tradition, says (M.
H. B. 752 E), in recording Eadric’s appointment to the ealdormanship,
“Dei providentia ad perniciem Anglorum factus est Edricus dux super
Merce, proditor novus sed maximus.”
The surname of Streona comes, as we have just seen, from Florence.
Eadric also appears as _Heinrekr_ or _Airekr_ Strióna in Snorro
(Johnstone, 98), and in another Saga (101), where we are astounded at
finding him made a brother of Emma. (The name _Henry_, in any of its
forms, is hardly English, but we find in Cod. Dipl. iii. 87 a “Heanric
minister,” perhaps one of the Old-Saxons favoured by Eadgar.) In Orderic
too (506 B) a later Eadric is said to be “nepos Edrici pestiferi ducis
cognomento Streone, id est _acquisitoris_.” The nickname evidently
alludes to his great accumulations of property.
To trace Eadric and his father Æthelric by the charters is not easy, as
neither name is uncommon. Thus we find in Cod. Dipl. iii. 304, a will of
a certain Æthelric in Essex, made in 997, in which an Eadric is
mentioned, who however seems not to be his son but his tenant. This
Æthelric lay under suspicion of treasonable dealings with Swegen at the
time of his first invasion in 994 (“ðam kincge wæs gesæd ðæt he wǽre on
ðám unrǽde, ðæt man sceolde on Eást-Sexon Swegen underfón ða he ǽrest
þyder mid flotan com”). See Cod. Dipl. iii. 314, a document which the
combined signatures of Archbishop Ælfric (see p. 292) and Ealdorman
Leofsige (see p. 313) fix to some date between 995 and 1002. Another
Æthelric distinguished himself in quite an opposite way in the same part
of the world, for he appears as one of the heroes of Maldon (see Thorpe,
Analecta, p. 139). This last is probably the Æthelric “minister” and
“miles,” who signs many charters from 987 to 1006 (see Cod. Dipl. iii.
228–351). In the last charter, if it be genuine, he describes himself as
“the old”—“Æðelric ealda trywe gewitnys.” This is not unlikely to be the
Æthelric who appears as a legatee in the will of Wulfric Spot, Cod.
Dipl. vi. 148. Then there are one or more churchmen of the name, who,
with the titles of “clericus,” “diaconus,” and “monachus” sign a vast
number of documents of Archbishop Oswald and his successor Ealdwulf from
977 to 996 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 159–296), and one of whom possibly goes on
till 1017 (see Cod. Dipl. vi. 177). I almost suspect that it is in one
of these clerical Æthelrics that we are to look for the father of
Eadric. It is certain that, among the many persons to whom Archbishop
Oswald grants Church lands on the usual terms for three lives, three
separate grants are made to a Thegn of his named Eadric. See Cod. Dipl.
iii. 164, 216, 241. The dates are 977, 985, 988. May not these be the
beginnings of the traitor? An Eadric also appears in Cod. Dipl. iii.
293, and another in vi. 127; but the latter at least is not our Eadric,
as he was dead before 993.
The first signature which seems likely to be that of the future
Ealdorman is one in 1001 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 317) as “Eadric minister.” He
signs many charters by that title, including two (vi. 143) in company
with a namesake of the same rank. In 1007 (vi. 157, 159) he of course
begins to sign as “dux.” The charter of 1004 (vi. 151) where he appears
as “dux” cannot be genuine, as King Æthelred, Archbishop Æthelnoth, and
Ealdorman Brihtnoth are made to sign together. Lappenberg also (431,
note 2. The passage is left out in Mr. Thorpe’s translation) quotes a
charter of Eadgar in 970 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 56) as containing the
signatures of Eadric and most of his brothers. But it is quite
impossible that this can be our Eadric. Mr. Kemble marks the Latin
version, in which alone the signatures occur, as spurious. The English
version, which he accepts, has no signatures.
That Eadric rose to power by the fall of Wulfgeat is nowhere said in so
many words; but the confiscation of the goods of Wulfgeat and the first
mention of Eadric are put by Florence significantly near to one another.
Wulfgeat signs a great many charters from 986 to 1005 (Cod. Dipl. iii.
224–345 and vi. 154). But he nowhere appears with any higher title than
“minister,” except in one document of 996 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 136) where he
appears as “dux.” I suspect that Wulfgeat, as well as Eadric, rose in
the beginning through the favour of Archbishop Oswald. At least Oswald
grants lands in Worcestershire to a knight of his of that name (“sumum
cnihte ðám is Wulfgeat noma,” Cod. Dipl. iii. 259). This was in the
reign of Eadward. The confiscation of Wulfgeat’s goods is recorded in
the Chronicles for 1006 without remark; “And on þam ilcan geare wæs
Wulfgeate eall his ár óngenumen.” Florence says, “Rex Ægelredus
Wlfgeatum Leovecæ filium, quem pene omnibus plus dilexerat, propter
injusta judicia et superba quæ gesserat opera, possessionibus omnique
honore privavit.” There is also a charter of 1006 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 160),
in which we find a notice of Wulfgeat as marrying one Ælfgifu the widow
of Ælfgar (was this Ælfgar the son of Ælfric?) and as holding some lands
which had been taken by Ælfgar from the monastery of Abingdon. His wife
is described as sharing both in his crimes and in his fall; “Qui ambo
crimine pessimo juste ab omni incusati sunt populo caussa suæ
machinationis propriæ, de qua modo non est dicendum per singula, propter
quam vero machinationem quæ injuste adquisierunt omnia juste
perdiderunt.” Another charter of 1015 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 169) is more
express. In this Æthelred grants to Brihtwold the Bishop of the diocese
(who succeeded in the year of Wulfgeat’s disgrace), the lands of
Wulfgeat at Chilton in Berkshire (“illo in loco ubi solicolæ appellativo
usu Cildatun nominant”). Here we read, “Nam quidam minister Wulfget
vulgari relatu nomine præfatam terram aliquando possederat; sed quia
inimicis regis se in insidiis socium applicavit, et in facinore
inficiendi etiam legis satisfactio ei defecit, ideo hæreditatis suberam
penitus amisit, et ex ea prænominatus episcopus præscriptam villulam, me
concedente, suscepit.” The estate was not given to the see, but to
Brihtwold personally, with power to bequeath it. I cannot identify
Wulfgeat’s father, which makes it the more probable that he was, like
Eadric, a man of low birth.
The appointment of Eadric to the Mercian ealdormanship in 1007 is
distinct in all the Chronicles and in Florence. His marriage with the
King’s daughter Eadgyth took place before 1009, when Florence speaks of
him as the Kings son-in-law, “gener ejus, habuit enim in conjugio filiam
ejus Edgitham.” His elevation to the ealdormanship is the most natural
date for the marriage. There may perhaps be some reference to this
marriage in the wonderful declamation of Walter Map against Æthelred (De
Nugis, 202). He charges him with systematically preferring slaves to
freemen, and giving the daughters of nobles to “rustici,” that is, in
the language of his day, villains. By “servi” and “rustici” he most
likely means merely ceorls. “Superbus servi oculus et insatiabile cor in
ipsius beneplacito ministrabat.”
NOTE KK. p. 329.
THE SUCCESSION OF THE NORTHUMBRIAN EARLS.
I did not come across Mr. Robertson’s “Scotland under Early Kings” till
the greater part of the first edition of my first volume was printed. I
had therefore no opportunity, till towards the end of the volume, of
making any use of his excellent note on the _Danelage_ (ii. 430), which
is one of the best parts of his work. The history of Northumberland from
the ninth century onwards is there traced out with greater clearness and
probability than I have ever seen it dealt with elsewhere. His great
point, which he seems to me fully to establish, is, that at the great
conquest of Northumberland in Ælfred’s time, Deira only was actually
divided and occupied by the Danes, while Bernicia, into whatever degree
of subjection it may have been brought to the Danish power, still
remained occupied by Englishmen, and under the immediate government of
English rulers. The local nomenclature, as Mr. Robertson shows, bears
out this view, and it also explains the otherwise puzzling fact that
that part of old Northumberland which is quite away from the Humber has
kept the name of Northumberland to this day, an usage which certainly
began as early as the eleventh century (see Chron. Wig. 1065 and Sim.
Dun. 80). Indeed Simeon (147) distinguishes “Eboracum” and “Northimbri”
as early as 883; but he is doubtless using the language of his own time,
as he is not following the earlier Northumbrian Chronicle. With these
Anglian rulers of Bernicia I have no concern till the Commendation of
924, when the “son of Eadwulf,” and again in 926 “Ealdred Eadulfing,”
appears among the princes who submitted to Æthelstan. Ealdred’s son was
Oswulf, who signs two charters of Eadred in 949 as lord of Bamburgh,
“Osulf ad bebb. hehgr̃” (Cod. Dipl. ii. 292), and “Osulf bebb.” (ii.
296). The abbreviation “hehgr̃” stands, according to Mr. Robertson, for
_heah-gerefa_. And I can certainly suggest nothing better, though it is
strange to find so purely ministerial a title applied to one who seems
to have been rather a vassal prince than a mere magistrate. In 954, on
the final conquest of Northumberland by Eadred, Oswulf seems to have
exchanged this infinitesimal kind of kingship for the earldom over both
provinces. See Sim. Dun. 204, who goes on to mention the division of the
two earldoms between Oswulf and Oslac; “Qui [Osulfus] postea regnante
Eadgaro socium accepit Oslacum. Deinde Osulfus ad aquilonalem plagam
Tinæ, Oslac vero super Eboracum et ejus fines curas administrabat.” The
appointment of Oslac is noticed by three of the Chronicles in the year
966, and his banishment in 975 is recorded in prose and lamented in
verse. The next Earl was Waltheof, who seems to have been a son of
Oswulf, and I gather from the words of Simeon (204)—“His [Osulfo et
Oslaco] successit “Walthef senior””—that he again held both earldoms.
But they must have been again dismembered at some time before 993, when
Ælfhelm, who had signed as “minister” in 985 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 121),
begins to sign as “dux” (iii. 271). An earlier signature as “Comes” in
990 (iii. 251) is doubtful. Cf. iii. 253. In 997 (iii. 304) he signs as
“Norðanhumbrensium provinciarum dux.” The only signature of Waltheof
himself that I know of is one of “Wælðeof dux” in 994 (iii. 280). That
Uhtred (p. 329) held both earldoms on the deposition of his father and
the murder of Ælfhelm seems plain from the words of Simeon (80), “Rex
Ethelredus, vocato ad se juvene præfato, vivente adhuc patre Waltheof,
pro merito suæ strenuitatis et bello quod tam viriliter peregerat, dedit
ei comitatum patris sui, adjungens etiam Eboracensem comitatum.” This
last was evidently the earldom made void by the death of Ælfhelm.
The death of Uhtred and the bestowal of the Northumbrian earldom on Eric
the Dane by Cnut I have mentioned at pp. 379, 524. Mr. Robertson (i. 95,
ii. 442) seems to confine the Northumbrian government of Eric to Deira,
while he extends his frontier southward as far as Watling-Street. But
the fourfold division of England implies that Eric ruled over all
Northumberland. On the other hand, Simeon (81), speaking in his own
person (see Stubbs, Preface to R. Howden, i. xxx), in a marked way
confines the government of Ealdred, the successor of Eadwulf, to
Bernicia. “Aldredus, quem prædictus comes Ucthredus genuerat ex Ecfrida
Alduni episcopi filia, ... _solius Northumbriæ_ comitatum suscepit,
patrisque sui interfectorem interfecit Turebrandum.” “Northumbria,” it
will be seen, is here used in the most modern sense. The obvious
inference is that Eadwulf ruled at first in Bernicia only and under the
superiority of Eric, but that, on Eric’s banishment, he succeeded to the
government of all Northumberland immediately under the King. Simeon
gives us no dates, and Siward’s accession to Deira may have followed the
death of Eadwulf Cutel. Everything looks as if the reign of Ealdred was
very short.
One question remains as to Thored, who signs as “dux” in 979, 983, and
988 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 171, 198, 237), and in the Chronicles (992) is
distinguished as “Þored _eorl_” from “Ælfric _ealdorman_.” He was
therefore in all probability Earl of Deira or Yorkshire (see Robertson,
ii. 441). He is doubtless the same as Thored the son of Gunner, who,
according to the Chronicles, harried Westmorland in 966, and, according
to some accounts (see below, Note SS), he was the father of Æthelred’s
first wife. He was no doubt succeeded by Ælfhelm in 993, and he must
himself have been appointed as early as 979. Mr. Robertson conjectures
that he succeeded on the banishment of Oslac in 975. But we have seen
that Waltheof then succeeded to both earldoms. My conjecture therefore
is that the two earldoms were again separated on the accession of
Æthelred, Deira being given to Thored. If Æthelred really married
Thored’s daughter, this is still more likely.
There can be no doubt that _Eorl_ (see p. 407) is the proper title of a
governor of Deira (see Cod. Dipl. ii. 293, and the Laws of Eadgar,
Schmid, 198). But the Chronicles do not always observe the distinction.
The pointed marking out of Thored as “eorl” and Ælfric as “ealdorman” is
an unusual piece of accuracy, and though Oslac, when his banishment in
975 is recorded, is called “se mæra eorl,” yet his appointment in 966 is
expressed by the words “feng to ealdordome.”
NOTE LL. p. 339.
THE ASSESSMENT OF 1008.
The Abingdon and Peterborough Chronicles for 1008 have, “Hér bebead se
cyng þæt mán sceolde ofer eall Angelcyn scypu fæstlice wyrcan; þæt is
ðonne; of þrim hund hidum and óf tynum ænne scegð, and of viii hidum
helm and byrnan.”
So Florence; “Rex Anglorum Ægelredus de cccx cassatis unam trierem, de
novem vero loricam et cassidem fieri, et per totam Angliam naves intente
præcepit fabricari.” So Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 753 A) and
Lappenberg, ii. 170.
But the Worcester Chronicle (Cott. Tib. B. iv.) reads “of þrym hund
scipum and x bé tynum anne scægð.” I quote Mr. Earle’s note, without
confidently pledging myself to his interpretation, further than that I
feel sure that the assessment must have been made by shires in some
shape or other. If anything else were needed to prove it, the bequest of
Ælfric so appositely quoted by Mr. Earle, and which I have not scrupled
to mention in the text, would alone be enough.
“In this rating of land for raising a navy, the numbers are so
unconformable to the statistical numbers preserved elsewhere, and so
incommensurate with each other, that they must be received with
suspicion. All the texts agree, except D [the Worcester Chronicle],
which, of all extant texts, is probably the nearest to the source. In
the confusion of the text of D, may possibly be found materials for a
future emendation.
“But, taken at its worst, the annal is rich in interest. We learn the
curious fact, that it was incumbent on each of the landed subdivisions,
to provide the king with a ship and its armour. The government did not
levy ship-money, but required each county to find its quota of ships.
This would apply as well to the inland districts, as to those on the
sea-board. And here we find the explanation of an otherwise inexplicable
bequest of good Abp. Ælfric, who died two years before this date. He
gave one ship to the folk of Kent, and one to Wiltshire. The will is in
Cod. Dipl. 716 [iii. 351]. Doubtless, in each of the cases, the bequest
was intended as an alleviation of the heavy imposts under which the
people groaned. His gift being to the shire, is an argument that the
assessment was by shires. It appears to me probable that each shire had
to furnish one ship for every three _Hundreds_ contained in the shire.
Thus a shire containing thirty Hundreds would have to furnish ten ships.
(Accordingly, D may be right: of þrym hund scipum: ? = of three
Hundreds—=Hundertschaften=.) This burden would fall on the whole body of
the people, according to their rating. But the wealthy landowners had a
special burden besides. He who had property up to or over the extent of
ten hides, would have to furnish a _scegð_—and every thane under ten
hides, had to furnish a helmet and breastplate.”
The _scegð_, according to Mr. Earle and Dr. Schmid, seems to be a
smaller kind of vessel. It is a pity that even Florence was so far
carried away by the wish to appear classical as to talk about triremes,
instead of using words which might express the different kinds of
vessels spoken of.
On Mr. Earle’s showing, the special imposts laid on the great landowners
would exactly answer to the Attic λειτουργίαι. But it tells somewhat
against his interpretation that both Florence and Henry of Huntingdon
follow the reading of the other manuscripts. In any case I must confess
that I do not clearly understand about the helm and breastplate.
NOTE MM. p. 343.
WULFNOTH OF SUSSEX.
Most writers assume that “Wulfnoth Child the South-Saxon,” as he is
called in all the Chronicles, was at once the nephew of Eadric and the
father of Earl Godwine. These questions I shall discuss in a later Note,
specially devoted to the origin of the Earl. I will only say here that
it seems to me that, whoever was the father of Godwine, Florence did not
intend to identify the Wulfnoth who, he says, was nephew to Eadric, with
Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon.
That Brihtric, the accuser of Wulfnoth, was a brother of Eadric rests on
the authority of all the Chronicles. They all call him “Brihtric,
Eadrices broðor ealdormannes.” Florence gives him the character of being
“homo lubricus, ambitiosus, et superbus,” and adds that the accusation
was unjust. He had also just before given the following list of the
brothers of Eadric or sons of Æthelric; “cujus fratres exstiterunt
Brihtricus, Ælfricus, Goda, Ægelwinus, Ægelwardus, Ægelmærus, pater
Wlnothi, patris West-Saxonum ducis Godwini.” The charters are full—take
for instance Cod. Dipl. iii. 355 and vi. 164, 166—of signatures which
may be the signatures of those brothers. But all the names are common,
except perhaps Goda, unless it be a short form of Godric or Godwine. For
instance, one charter in Cod. Dipl. iii. 345, 346 is signed by three
distinct Brihtrics, all with the rank of “minister.” In one place (iii.
351), if the document be genuine, “Byrhtríc cinges þegen gewitnys” signs
between Eadric and one who may be their father (see above, p. 656). In
vi. 155 we have a “Bríhtric reáda” in Dorsetshire, and in the Chronicles
(1017) a “Brihtric Ælfehes suna on Defenascire,” who may be the same as
the Brihtric of Dorset, but who is of course different from the brother
of Eadric. Of Æthelweards we find several in the early days of Cnut. It
seems in vain to try to make out anything more about the family; except
that, according to Orderic (506 B), Eadric the Wild, so famous sixty
years later, was Eadric’s nephew or grandson—“nepos Edrici pestiferi
ducis.”
The title of “cild” or “child” given to Wulfnoth is a puzzling one.
Florence translates it by “minister,” as if it were the same as Thegn;
Henry of Huntingdon by “puer nobilis.” It is found in one other place
only in the Chronicles, namely in 1074, where it is applied to the
younger Eadgar, as if it were the same as Æðeling. We have seen it (see
above, p. 641) as the title of one of the Ælfrics, who in English is
“cild” and in Latin “cognomento Puer.” Several men bear the title in
Domesday, as “Alnod cilt” (2 et al.), Eadwine, miscalled Godwine, Abbot
of Westminster (146), Edward “cilt,” a man of Earl Harold (146, 148,
212, 336b, 340), and several others, Brixi, Eadwig, Leofric, Leofwine,
and others, whom I do not profess to identify. See Ellis, ii. 68. In a
deed of Bishop Ælfwold T. R. E. in Cod. Dipl. vi. 196, we find the
signature of a “Dodda cild” (see vol. ii. Appendix G), seemingly a
kinsman of Earl Odda. From all these examples, and from the later use of
the word, “Childe Waters” and the like, one would think that “cild” was
in some way or other a title of honour, though it is not at all easy to
see exactly what it implied in the way of rank or office. On the other
hand we find an Æthelric (Æilricus) “cild,” as also an Eadwine “cniht,”
among the inferior tenants of Battle Abbey. Chron. de Bello, 14, 15.
The story of Wulfnoth, as well as his personality, is puzzling. We hear
nothing of the nature of the charge against him or of the punishment
which seems to have been designed for him. In the Chronicles we simply
read that the accusation was brought and that Wulfnoth took to flight
and began to plunder. Florence says “ne caperetur, mox fugam iniit.”
Henry of Huntingdon, who does not mention the charge brought by
Brihtric, says “Rex exsulaverat Wlnod.” So William of Malmesbury (ii.
165), who brings the story in only casually, in his general picture of
the reign of Æthelred. He says nothing of the flight of Wulfnoth or the
pursuit of Brihtric. He mentions the storm and adds, “Paucæ de reliquiis
multarum factæ, impetu cujusdam Wulnodi, quem rex exlegatum ejecerat,
submersæ vel incensæ.” Nor have we the least hint given as to whither
Wulfnoth went, or what he did, after he had burned the hundred ships. He
may have joined the Danes or have done anything else in the wiking line;
I cannot believe that he went and lived quietly in Gloucestershire. In
this uncertainty, modern writers seem to have thought that they had full
licence to give play to their imaginations, and the results are
remarkable. Mr. St. John for instance and M. de Bonnechose display a
minute knowledge of the actions and motives of all parties which
certainly cannot be got by the dull process of groping in the
Chronicles. Let us hear Mr. St. John (Four Conquests, ii. 21);
“About the vicious and bewildered king, the earl of Mercia and his
brethren clung like the fabled serpents about Laocoon. They were seven
in all—Edric, Brihtric, Elfric, Goda, Ethelwine, Ethelward, and
Ethelmere—and between them was incessantly carried on a reckless
struggle for pre-eminence. Being all desirous of monopolizing the favour
of Ethelred, they plotted against each other, and pursued their designs
with relentless vindictiveness.
“Ethelmere, the youngest of the brothers, had a son, Wulfnoth, who for
his courage and capacity had been made Childe of the South-Saxons, a
post of great honour and distinction. This excited rancorous envy in the
breast of his uncle Brihtric, who, in order to compass his overthrow,
accused him of treason to the king. Familiar with the cruel and
capricious temper of Ethelred, the young earl effected his escape from
London.”
The French writer, M. Emile de Bonnechose (Quatre Conquêtes de
l’Angleterre, ii. 17), is almost more remarkable than Mr. St. John. “De
nouvelles défections anéantirent bientôt les forces navales des
Anglo-Saxons: un de leurs chefs, nommé Wulnoth, père du fameux comte
Godwin, prit la fuite avec vingt vaisseaux. Britric, commandant de la
flotte, poursuivit le fugitif.” No hint whatever _why_ Wulfnoth fled.
Presently (ii. 56) we read of “le service que ce Wulnoth rendit au roi
Sweyn en lui livrant une partie de la flotte qu’il commandait et en
brûlant le reste,” events of which the Chronicles preserve no mention
whatever. More amazing than all, Wulfnoth is elsewhere described (ii.
54) as “_churl_ ou _chef_ des Saxons du sud,” much as if one were to
talk of a man being “Roturier or Duke of Montmorency.”
NOTE NN. p. 344.
THURKILL THE DANE.
This name, like many others, appears in a fuller form in England than in
Denmark. The English bearers of it, all doubtless of Danish descent, are
always called Thurcytel. The famous Dane himself always appears, whether
in Latin, English, or Danish, in a shortened form, Thurkill or something
like it, in various spellings.
Our Thurkill comes before us in very different lights in different
accounts. In the Chronicles we first hear of him as commanding the fleet
which came in 1009. The three Chronicles all agree in saying that soon
after Lammas an innumerable fleet came to Sandwich (“þá cóm sona æfter
lafmæssam [“hlammessan,” Petrib.] se úngemætlica únfrið here to
Sandwic”), but Abingdon alone adds “þe we heton Ðurkilles here.”
Florence distinguishes the fleet of Thurkill from the fleet of Heming
and Eglaf (“Danicus comes Turkillus sua cum classe ad Angliam venit:
exinde mense Augusto alia classis Danorum innumerabilis, cui præerant
duces Hemingus et Eglafus,” &c.). But the two fleets meet in Thanet and
sail together to Sandwich. We then hear no more of Thurkill by name till
1013, but it is plain that all the ravages done up to Swegen’s invasion
in that year were done by “Ðurkilles here.” In 1013 (see p. 360) we
suddenly find him on the English side. He is in London with Æthelred
(“forðan þær wæs inge sé cyng Æþelred and Þurcyl mid him”), and directly
after (see p. 361) we find him and Æthelred together in the fleet in the
Thames. This makes it plain that the forty-five ships which went over to
Æthelred in 1012 (see p. 356) were Thurkill’s ships or a part of them.
It was plainly then that he changed sides. We hear of his fleet again in
1014, when a Danegeld was paid to it (see p. 371); and again in 1015,
when Eadric seduced “_the_ forty ships from the King’s service” (“Eadric
ealdorman aspeon _þa_ fowertig scipa fram þam cyningc”). But Thurkill’s
name is not mentioned again till 1017 (see p. 407) when Cnut gives him
one of the four great Earldoms, namely East-Anglia. In 1020 (see p. 426)
he appears along with Cnut at the consecration on Assandun; in 1021 (see
p. 428) he is outlawed; in 1023 (see p. 429) he is reconciled to the
King and seems to become his lieutenant in Denmark, but we hear no more
of him in England.
Florence mentions Thurkill whenever he is mentioned in the Chronicles,
except in the account of his reconciliation with Cnut, which appears in
the Abingdon Chronicle only. He makes matters somewhat plainer about
“the forty ships” in 1015, saying that Eadric “de regia classe xl naves,
Danicis militibus instructas, sibi allexit.” He also, in recording
Thurkill’s banishment in 1021, adds the name of his wife; “Canutus
rex ... Turkillum supra dictum comitem cum uxore sua Edgitha expulit
Anglia.” It should be noticed that neither in the Chronicles nor in
Florence is there any mention of Thurkill during the wars of Cnut and
Eadmund in 1016.
As for the charters we can hardly expect to find him signing during the
reign of Æthelred. In Cnut’s time, 1018–1019, we find him signing as
“dux” (Cod. Dipl. iv. 1, 3, 6, 9). His signature to the document of
Healðegen Scearpa in 1026 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 32) is more puzzling, as it
would imply a return of Thurkill to England, of which there is no other
trace. But that document, though not marked doubtful or spurious by Mr.
Kemble, seems to me most suspicious. Godwine signs as “þegen,” but
before all the Earls, and the Earls who sign are Siward, Ælfgar,
Thurkill, Leofric, Swegen, Tostig, and Eadred. I cannot identify any
Earls Ælfgar and Swegen in the time of Cnut, and the Tostig of those
days (see Note WWW) is a half-mythical person. It is very doubtful too
(see Note CCC) whether Leofric was an Earl so early as 1026, and Siward
seems not to have been an Earl till Harthacnut’s time. I cannot help
thinking that an unskilful forger adapted the names from some charter of
Eadward, and that Swegen and Tostig are the sons of Godwine moved out of
their places. I do not think that we can bring Thurkill back to England
without some better evidence than this. We must also take care to
distinguish Earl Thurkill from several contemporary Thurkills of lesser
degree. There is, for instance, a “Ðurkill minister” who signs in 1023
(iv. 27), and a Thurkill the White (“Ðurcil hwíta”) who figures in a
private document at iv. 54. He goes into Herefordshire on the King’s
errand along with Tofig the Proud. Of another Thurkill, or the same,
there is a long story in the Ramsey History, c. 84.
William of Malmesbury seems to have a special dislike to Thurkill. He
mentions him only twice (ii. 176, 181), and both times charges him with
being the chief instigator of the murder of Ælfheah, which, from the
better authority of Thietmar (see Note PP), we know that he tried to
hinder. The first passage runs thus;
“Resederat in Anglia Turkillus Danus, qui fuerat incentor ut lapidaretur
archiepiscopus, habebatque Orientales Anglos suæ voluntati parentes. Tam
cæteri, dato ab Anglis octo millium librarum tributo, per urbes et
agros, quo quisque commodius poterat, dilapsi: _quindecim_ eorum naves
cum hominibus regis fidem sequutæ. Turkillus interea regem patriæ suæ
Suanum nuntiis accersit ut Angliam veniat.”
This is followed by a rhetorical description, put into Thurkill’s mouth,
of the vices and weakness of Æthelred and of England. Here are several
manifest misstatements; besides the misrepresentation as to the death of
Ælfheah, nothing is plainer than that Thurkill, who stood by Æthelred to
the last, did not invite Swegen into England. The only question is
whether any trace of truth lurks in the words which seem to attribute to
Thurkill a settlement in East-Anglia earlier than his investiture with
that earldom by Cnut. The other passage is equally unfair. The removal
of Thurkill from England is thus described; “Succedente tempore
Turkillus et Iricius, ab Anglia captatis occasionibus eliminati, natale
solum petierunt; quorum primus, qui incentor necis beati Elfegi fuerat,
statim ut Danemarchiæ littus attigit a ducibus oppressus est.” This last
statement is directly contradicted by the Chronicles; but it shows us
where William of Malmesbury got his notion of Thurkill, namely from the
two tracts of Osbern on the martyrdom of Ælfheah and his Translation. In
the latter (Anglia Sacra, i. 144) we get a wonderful account of
Thurkill. He is “male audax princeps malorum Thyrkyllus, pauco tempore
prædo futurus, sed in æternum damnati spiritus præda mansurus”—a hard
fate for the co-founder of Assandun and benefactor of Saint Eadmund’s.
He remains in England after the death of Ælfheah, but presently Cnut
comes, seemingly on the errand of getting rid of Thurkill and his
followers (“Cnut ... diffidens ab illo propter quasdam res male ac
perfide actas, quidquid residuum infandi populi esse poterat, sicut
tabulæ stilo deleri solent, delevit, ipsumque ducem sex tantummodo
navibus munitum in Danamarcam fugavit”). Thurkill goes to Denmark; being
suspected of a design to stir up civil wars, he is hunted down and
killed, and his body is left unburied (“ne intestina bella moliretur,
statim per cuncta regionis illius loca agitatus, ad ultimum ab ignobili
vulgo occisus, ferisque et avibus est miserabiliter projectus”). This is
plainly the source whence William of Malmesbury got his account of
Thurkill’s death; still he knew the history too well to accept Osbern’s
introduction of Thurkill (ii. 131) as at first a joint commander with
Swegen, and then, after Swegen’s death, his successor (“piratæ ...
ducibus Swano et Thurkyllo, principibus Danorum fortissimis, nonnullam
terræ Anglorum maculam intulerant. Sed Swano ab omnipotenti Deo
terribiliter occiso, Thyrkillus malignæ hæreditatis principatum sortitus
est”). Osbern evidently looked on Thurkill as the author of all evil,
but he does not again mention him by name. It is worth thinking whether
William of Malmesbury’s notion of Thurkill’s settlement in East-Anglia
at this time arose from any confusion with the partition which,
according to Osbern (see Note PP), was to be made between Eadric and the
Danes.
William of Malmesbury’s statement that Thurkill invited Swegen into
England probably comes from some confusion with the narrative of the
Encomiast. This last writer makes (i. 2) Thurkill go to England by
Swegen’s leave to avenge the death of a brother who had been killed
there, perhaps in the massacre of Saint Brice. But, once in England, he
goes over to the English side, and seemingly obtains some establishment
in the country (“meridianam partem provinciæ victor obtinet”). One main
object of Swegen’s expedition is said to be to win back, by force or
persuasion, Thurkill himself and the forty ships of which he has
defrauded his sovereign. We hear however nothing more of him till Swegen
is dead. When Cnut goes back to Denmark, Thurkill stays in England (ii.
1). His motives are described at length. He then (ii. 3) goes to Cnut
with nine ships, leaving thirty in England, to make his peace with him
(“memor quod Sueino fecerat, et quod tunc in terra absque licentia
domini sui Cnutonis inconsulte remanserat, cum novem navibus earumque
exercitu dominum suum requisivit, ut ei patefaceret quia non contra ejus
salutem se recedente remanserit”), and to exhort him to a renewed
invasion of England. Cnut accordingly comes, and Thurkill is his right
hand man throughout the war with Eadmund.
I do not know whether our Thurkill is the same as “Þorkell Hasi,”
brother of Heming and son of Earl Strut-Harold, who accompanies Cnut to
England in the Knytlinga Saga, c. 8 (Johnstone, 105). This may be the
Heming of Florence, 1009.
The history of Thurkill in our Chronicles seems to hang very well
together. Patching it up from Thietmar, I infer that he embraced
Christianity before the death of Ælfheah, which he strove to hinder. He
then took service under Æthelred, and served him faithfully against
Swegen. But I do not know how to cast aside the assertion of the
Encomiast that Thurkill was prominent on Cnut’s side during the war with
Eadmund. Fabulous as are many of the details, this can hardly be mere
invention. He may have changed sides when Eadric beguiled the Danes in
the English service in 1015 (see above, p. 376), or after Æthelred’s
death, at the Southampton election of Cnut.
Thurkill married (see Florence, 1021) an Englishwoman named Eadgyth.
Lappenberg (ii. 197, 207) makes her the widow of Ulfcytel, therefore a
daughter of Æthelred. But the name of Ulfcytel’s wife seems to have been
Wulfhild (see above, p. 654, and Lappenberg, ii. 168), while Eadgyth the
daughter of Æthelred was certainly the wife of Eadric. I suspect that it
was Eadric’s widow whom Thurkill married. At the same time I cannot lay
my hand on any authority for Thurkill’s wife being a daughter of
Æthelred; but it is very likely, and such a connexion would account for
Cnut’s jealousy of him (see p. 415).
NOTE OO. p. 347.
WULFRIC SPOT.
Wulfric appears in the Chronicles simply as “Wulfric Leofwines sunu”
without any further description. So in Florence he is simply “Wlfricus
Leofwini filius.” He signs a charter of 1002 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 146) as
“minister.” In the confirmation of his will by Æthelred (Cod. Dipl. iii.
332) he is described as “nobilis progeniei minister Wlfricus.” He and
all the other men who were slain at Ringmere all come in the Chronicles
under the head of “feala oðera godra þegna.” I should infer from this
that he never held the rank of Ealdorman; but he is called “consul” by
Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 753 C) and Bromton (X Scriptt. 888). So
the Burton _Chronicle_ printed in the Monasticon, iii. 47, calls him
“illustris et præpotens consul ac comes Merciorum Wulfricus Spott regali
propinquus prosapiæ.” The Burton _Annals_ however (Luard, Ann. Mon. i.
183) are satisfied with calling him “quidam nobilis nomine Wlfricus
cognomento Spot.” He cannot possibly have been Ealdorman of all Mercia,
and if he were a subordinate Ealdorman of one of the shires in which his
property lay, he could hardly fail to have been somewhere spoken of as
“dux” or “comes.” Sir Francis Palgrave (ii. ccxciii.) suggests that he
was Ealdorman of Lancaster, on the strength of his possession of lands
between the Ribble and the Mersey. This comes from his will, which is
printed in Cod. Dipl. vi. 147. But Lancashire, as a shire, is later than
Domesday. The lands between Mersey and Ribble appear there as an
appendage to Cheshire, while Lancaster is in Yorkshire. Wulfric’s lands
between the Ribble and the Mersey are left to Ælfhelm and Wulfheah, no
doubt the murdered Ealdorman and his son, to both of whom other bequests
are made as well as to Ælfhelm’s other son Ufegeat. A little way on, he
leaves lands “Ælfhelme mínan meáge,” and he afterwards speaks of
“Ælfhelm mín bróðor.” This may raise some question as to whether he is
speaking of one Ælfhelm or more.
Sir Francis Palgrave (ii. ccxci.) makes Wulfric the son of the person
called Leofric the Second, brother of Ealdorman Leofwine and uncle of
the famous Earl Leofric. But I do not find this even in the very
mythical document on which his genealogical table is founded, and of
which I shall have again to speak (see Appendix CCC). The Chronicles
distinctly describe Wulfric as the son of Leofwine, that is, not the
Ealdorman of that name, but one of the many Thegns who bore it. Thus in
Cod. Dipl. iii. 322 (a charter signed by Wulfric himself), we have
“Leofwine dux,” as distinguished from “Leofwine minister;” and the
confirmation charter of Wulfric’s own foundation is signed by “Leofwine
dux” and by two several men described as “Leofwine minister.” It would
seem from what I have just quoted that Wulfric was a brother of Earl
Ælfhelm, and the Burton Chronicle gives him another brother “dux
Alwinus,” that is, Ælfwine or Æthelwine, two not uncommon names, both of
which will be found among the signatures, as in Cod. Dipl. iii. 345–6, a
document which, I may add, is signed by three Leofwines besides the
Ealdorman. Wulfric also makes bequests to a daughter of Morkere and
Ealdgyth who was his goddaughter (“ic geann mínre goddóhtor Mórcares and
Ealdgyðe ðæt lande” etc.). He mentions only one child of his own, who is
spoken of rather mysteriously, without any name, as “my poor daughter”
(“ic gean mínre earman dehter”), with a hint that there was something
wrong about her. She is to hold the land only while she deserves it
(“hwile ðe heo hit geearnian cann”), and Ælfhelm is appointed guardian
both of her and of the land. The name of Wulfric’s wife, according to
the local Chronicle, was Ealhswith.
The foundation of Burton took place, according to the local Chronicles,
in 1004, which is the year of the confirmation charter. Wulfric was
buried within his own monastery, not however in the church, but in the
cloister; “in claustro monasterii sui antedicti sub arcu lapideo juxta
ostium ecclesiæ _superioris_” (Mon. iii. 47). Ealhswith, who seems to
have died before him, as she is not mentioned in the will, was also
buried in the cloister, “juxta ostium ecclesiæ _inferioris_.” It seems
then that the cloister had one door into the choir and one door into the
nave, that is to say, the ritual choir was west of the crossing. The
first Abbot Wulfgeat and his monks came from Winchester; he is said to
have lived till 1026, but I doubt whether he signs any charters.
NOTE PP. p. 352.
THE TAKING OF CANTERBURY AND THE MARTYRDOM OF ÆLFHEAH.
Of the siege of Canterbury and the martyrdom of Ælfheah—the Alphege of
hagiology—we have four distinct accounts. That in the Chronicles of
course claims the first place. It was written before 1023, as it speaks
of Ælfheah’s body being still at Saint Paul’s and working miracles
there, whereas it was translated to Canterbury in 1023. The witness of
the Chronicles I of course accept unhesitatingly. And next to it I am
inclined to place the narrative in Thietmar of Merseburg, which he heard
when it was fresh from the lips of an Englishman named Sewald. He gives
a minute account of the martyrdom, which differs a good deal from the
popular version, but which falls in very well with the account in the
Chronicles, contradicting it in nothing, but explaining it on one or two
points. But, oddly enough, Ælfheah is called Dunstan, a strange mistake
to have been made by a contemporary, even though a foreigner, but one
which shows how great was the fame of Dunstan, and how small the fame of
Ælfheah, in Christendom generally. There is also the Life of Ælfheah by
Osbern in Anglia Sacra, ii. 122. This is a mere piece of hagiology, in
the common style of such lives, and it contains many statements which
are untrue or impossible. It is in fact valuable only as affording
practice in the art of unravelling the component elements of a romantic
story. But the remarkable thing is that the fourth narrative, that of
Florence, departs in several important points from the Chronicles and
copies either from Osbern, or, what is more likely, from some third
source from which Osbern also copied. Florence’s knowledge and good
sense kept him from repeating any of Osbern’s grosser absurdities, but
he has not improved his narrative by introducing several details which
cannot be reconciled with the Chronicles. Simeon simply copies Florence;
Henry of Huntingdon follows the Chronicles, with some slight touches
from Florence.
The Chronicles (1011) describe the whole event in detail, but they give
us only a picture of plunder and captivity, without any mention of
slaughter. The Archbishop and the other persons spoken of and a further
countless number of clerks and laymen, men and women, were made
prisoners (“hi þær genamon inne ealle þa gehadodan men and weras and
wif; þæt wæs unasecgendlic ænigum men hu micel þæs folces wǽs”). The
word “genamon” which is applied to the mass of the people is the same
word which is applied to the Archbishop, who was not put to death till
long after, and to others who we know were not put to death at all. The
Chronicles then go on to say how the Danes stayed in the city as long as
they would, and when they had searched it thoroughly went to their ships
(“ðá hí hæfdon þa buruh ealle asmeade, wendon him þá tó scypan”). Then
follows a short poem lamenting the captivity of Ælfheah and the
wretchedness of the city; but there is not a word to imply any general
massacre. Neither is there anything to imply such a massacre in the
shorter narrative of Thietmar. But in Osbern (Ang. Sacr. ii. 136, 137)
and Florence we get a soul-harrowing account of every possible horror.
Men are slaughtered, burned, thrown from the walls, tortured in horrible
ways. Women are dragged by their hair and thrown into the fire. Children
are tossed on spears or crushed under the wheels of waggons. The whole
ends with a systematic _decimation_ of the surviving adult males. By
decimation is here meant the slaying, not of one out of ten, but of nine
out of ten. This process leaves their lives to four monks and eight
hundred laymen. If this is any clew to the population of Canterbury, the
monks of the two minsters must have been fewer, and the general
population much larger, than one would have expected. The metropolis of
England must have gone down, relatively at least, since the eleventh
century.
These stories cannot be accepted in the teeth of the speaking silence of
the Chroniclers. The narrative of these last is so minute and so
pathetic that they could hardly have failed to dwell on the massacre if
any massacre had taken place. No doubt some lives were lost; a city was
not likely to be taken, least of all by Danes in that age, without the
loss of some lives. And here would be material enough for rhetorical
hagiologists to work up into the picture given us by Osbern, into which
they of course brought in all the horrors that they had ever heard of
anywhere.
The reader will perhaps not be inclined to set much store by the
authority of Osbern, if he knows the kind of story with which he (ii.
132) introduces the siege. One of the brothers of Eadric, a man
“lubricus et superbus” like Brihtric, perhaps Brihtric himself, stirs up
the wrath of the thegns of Kent by falsely accusing them to the King,
and thereby procuring the confiscation of the estates of many of them.
For these misdeeds they kill him and burn his house. Then Eadric, whom
the King had made ruler over the whole realm (“totius imperii sui
præfectum statuerat”), calls on the King to chastise them. The parts of
Eadward and Godwine in a later story are thus transposed. Æthelred
refuses to inflict any punishment on the Kentish thegns, affirming the
wrong-doer to have been rightfully slain (“jure peremptum”). Eadric then
takes the law into his own hands; he collects ten thousand men, who are
described as being “optime armati,” and invades Kent at their head. The
Kentishmen however resist valiantly, and the expedition fails. He then
leagues himself with the Danes (“Danorum conciliabula expetit”) and
exhorts them to attack, not Kent only, but the whole of Britain (“ad
totius Britanniæ fines invadendos”). He describes the nakedness of the
land, how the King—at the age of forty-two—was worn out with years, how
the princes and people were all sunk in sloth and luxury. All this
happens at a time when Swegen is already dead, and when Thurkill has
seemingly succeeded to his power (see above, p. 654). So Eadric and
Thurkill agree to divide the kingdom. Eadric is to take the East-Angles,
seemingly in addition to his Mercian government, and the Danes are to
take the North (“regnum post victoriam æqua sorte dividendum se
Orientalibus Anglis principari, illos vero aquilone potiri”). Eadric now
joins the Danes in the siege of Canterbury. Thurkill is not personally
mentioned, but Eadric presently vanishes from the stage, without any
explanation. It might not be hard to resolve this fable into its
component parts; it is even possible that Eadric’s attack on the
metropolitan city of England is really borrowed from his capture of the
metropolitan city of Wales.
A point now arises as to the traitorous churchman who betrayed the city.
It is not quite clear whether there were two Ælfmærs or one (see Hook,
Lives of Archbishops, i. 466). The Chronicles seem to distinguish Ælfmær
the traitor from Ælfmær the Abbot; and Florence distinguishes the
traitor as “archidiaconus.” Yet if Ælfmær the Abbot was a different man
from Ælfmær the traitor, why should the Danes let Abbot Ælfmær go free,
when the Archbishop and the rest were seized? I can only suggest, as
seems also to have occurred to Dr. Hook, that the story is the reverse
story of that of Cinna the conspirator and Cinna the poet, that the
Danes mistook one Ælfmær for the other, and let go the innocent one by
mistake.
Abbot Ælfmær undoubtedly kept his abbey, and was afterwards raised to
the bishopric of Dorset (W. Thorn, X Scriptt. 1782; Hist. St. Aug. 23,
24). Thorn gives two dates, 1017 and 1022, and makes him resign his see
and return to his abbey. He signs various charters of Cnut as Bishop; he
also appears as Abbot in a writ of Cnut (Cod. Dipl. iv. 9), addressed to
him together with Archbishop Lyfing—therefore before 1020—and Bishop
Godwine; also as a witness to the marriage settlement of another Godwine
(Cod. Dipl. iv. 10) along with King Cnut and Archbishop Lyfing. We find
him also in the doubtful charter of 1023, in Cod. Dipl. iv. 23, 25,
where he signs in company with Æthelric, Bishop of Dorset, who otherwise
seems to have left off signing in 1009. This Ælfmær must not be
confounded with the contemporary Ælfmær, Bishop of the South-Saxons,
whose signature also appears to the charter in iv. 25. The annals of his
own abbey speak of Ælfmær with great reverence; and, though ordinary
traitors might be advanced, a churchman who had had an indirect share in
the martyrdom of a saint would hardly meet with any favour at the hands
of Cnut or of any one else.
In describing the Archbishop’s martyrdom, I have given no heed to the
mythical details in Osbern, but I have formed my narrative from the
Chroniclers and Thietmar. There is no contradiction between the two
accounts, but each fills up gaps in the other. Thus the statement that
Ælfheah first promised a ransom and then refused to pay it comes from
Thietmar; this explains the whole story, which otherwise is hardly
intelligible. We thus see, what otherwise we do not clearly see, both
why the Danes kept Ælfheah so long in bonds, and why they were so
bitterly enraged against him when he finally refused to pay. And we can
easily see why this part of the story should be left out, as tending
somewhat to lessen the martyr’s glory, while it is not easy to see why
any one should invent or imagine it. Florence makes the Danes demand a
ransom of the Archbishop on one Saturday, and tell him that, if he does
not pay it, he shall be killed on the next Saturday (“necem ejus usque
ad aliud sabbatum protelant”). He seems to connect the demand with the
late vote of the Witan rather than with any promise on the part of
Ælfheah himself. The intercession of Thurkill comes from Thietmar; it
falls in exactly with his conduct directly after. The words put into his
mouth imply that he was already a Christian, which he certainly was, and
a zealous one, before long. William of Malmesbury, the consistent
persecutor of Thurkill, must be uttering mere calumnies when he says
that he was “incentor ut lapidaretur archiepiscopus.” I accept from
Florence the name and motive of the Dane Thrim or Thrum, who cleft the
Archbishop’s head. The Chronicles simply mention the fact. “Ðrim miles,”
“Ðrym dux,” “Ðrim eorl” is a signature attached to more than one charter
of Cnut (Cod. Dipl. iv. 17, 23, 25). The documents are suspicious; the
title of Earl is specially suspicious. But no one would have invented a
signature of Thrim, unless he had seen it attached to some genuine
document.
Lappenberg (ii. 177 Thorpe) has some good remarks on the impossibility
of Osbern’s general story, though he accepts his account of the horrors
at Canterbury. Mr. St. John (ii. 30) amusingly takes Lappenberg to task
for “misinterpreting Florence and the Saxon Chronicle.” The truth is
that Lappenberg did not misinterpret anything, but that Mr. St. John
failed to consult Thietmar, though Lappenberg gave him the reference.
Sir Francis Palgrave, when he wrote his small history (p. 297),
swallowed the whole tale about Eadric and his brother. M. de Bonnechose
(ii. 17) has much to tell us about “un chef farouche nommé Turchtill,”
but he does not take him to Canterbury.
As Thietmar’s account of the martyrdom is well worth reading, and as his
work is much less accessible than most of my authorities, I transcribe
it in full;
“Percepi quoque a relatu prædicti hominis Sewaldi factum miserabile ac
idcirco memorabile, quod perfida Northmannorum manus, duce ad hoc
Thurkilo, Cantuariæ civitatis egregium antistitem, Dunsten nomine, cum
cæteris caperent, et vinculis et inedia ac ineffabili pœna, more suo
nefando, constringerent. Hic humana motus fragilitate, pecuniam eis
promittit, et ad hanc impetrandam inducias posuit, ut si in his
acceptabili redemptione mortem momentaneam evadere nequivisset, semet
ipsum gemitibus crebris interim purgaret, hostiam Domino vivam ad
immolandum. Transactis tunc omnibus designatis temporibus, vorax picarum
charybdis Dei famulum evocat, et sibi promissum celeriter persolvi
tributum minaciter postulat. Et ille, ut mitis agnus, ‘Præsto sum,’
inquit, ‘paratus ad omnia quæ in me nunc presumitis facere; ac Christi
amore, ut suorum merear fieri exemplum servorum, non sum hodie turbatus.
Quod vobis mendax videor, non mea voluntas, sed dira efficit mihi
egestas. Corpus hoc meum, quod in hoc exsilio supra modum dilexi, vobis
culpabile offero, et quid de eo faciatis in vestra esse potestate
cognosco; animam autem meimet peccatricem Creatori omnium, vos non
respicientem, supplex committo.’ Talia loquentem profanorum agmen
vallavit, et diversa hunc ad interficiendum arma congerit. Quod quum
eorum dux Thurcil a longe vidisset, celeriter accurrens: ‘Ne, quæso, sic
faciatis!’ infit. ‘Aurum et argentum, et omne quod hic habeo vel ullo
modo acquirere possum, excepta navi sola, ne in christum Domini peccetis
libenti animo vobis omnibus trado.’ Tam dulci affatu infrenata sociorum
ira, ferro et saxis durior, non mollitur, sed effuso innocenti sanguine
placatur, quem communiter capitibus boum et imbribus lapidum atque
lignorum infusione protinus effundunt. Inter tot frementium impetus
potitus est cœlesti jucunditate, ut signi sequentis efficacia protinus
testatur.” (Pertz, iii. 849.)
NOTE QQ. p. 360.
THE KINGSHIP AND DEATH OF SWEGEN.
That Swegen was acknowledged as King over England seems to be beyond
doubt. The Chronicles (1013) say, “And eall þeodscipe hine hæfde þa for
fulne cyning.” So Florence; “Ab omni Anglorum populo rex, si jure queat
rex vocari, qui fere cuncta tyrannice faciebat, et appellabatur et
habebatur.” So Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 754 D); “Suain vero ab omni
populo habebatur pro rege;” and again, “Suain jam rex Anglorum.” So,
among later writers, Roger of Wendover (i. 447), “Regem Angliæ se jussit
appellari;” and Bromton (X Scriptt. 892), “Swanus jam rex Anglorum
factus.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 177) loses himself in fine writing;
“tota jam Anglia in clientelam illius inclinata.”
On the other hand the English writers are specially fond of giving
Swegen the name of _Tyrant_, a name, it must be remembered, which still
keeps the meaning which became familiar in the third century (see p.
137), that of “usurper” or “pretender.” We have already seen Florence
use the adverb “tyrannice,” and under the year 1014 he begins the
account of Swegen’s death with the words, “Suanus tyrannus, post
innumerabilia et crudelia mala, quæ vel in Anglia vel in aliis terris
gesserat, ad cumulum suæ damnationis,” &c. So William of Malmesbury (ii.
179), rhetorically describing the evil case of England during Swegen’s
occupation, says, “Hæsitabatur totis urbibus quid fieret; si pararetur
rebellio, assertorem non haberent; si eligeretur subjectio, placido
rectore carerent. Ita privatæ et publicæ opes ad naves cum obsidibus
deportabantur, quod non esset ille dominus legitimus, sed tyrannus
atrocissimus.” This is developed by Roger of Wendover (i. 448);
“Swanus ... tyrannus nequissimus ... evidenter apparet ipsum naturalem
non esse dominum [cyne-hlaford] sed tyrannum. Hæsitabat populus quid
faceret, quia, si bellum quæreret, ductorem non haberet, si subjectionem
eligeret, tyrannum rectorem haberet.” The technical and the rhetorical
sense of the word are struggling throughout.
It will be seen at once that the former set of passages are much more
distinct than the latter, which are intelligible only on the supposition
that something happened, just as in the cases of Cnut and William, which
at least passed for a regular election. Florence’s scruple about calling
Swegen “rex” seems of itself to imply that he had some kind of formal
claim to the title. But I imagine that he was never crowned. The
remarkable words of the Chronicles that “all the people held him for
full King” almost seem to imply that in strictness he was not full King.
This would be exactly the position of a King elected but not crowned. No
one hints at a coronation, except perhaps the Encomiast, who tells us
(i. 5), “Ubi jam sæpedictus rex tota Anglorum patria est
_inthronizatus_, et ubi jam pene illi nemo restitit, pauco supervixit
tempore, sed tamen illud tantillum gloriose.” But if Swegen had been
solemnly crowned and anointed, his panegyrist would hardly have
contented himself with so vague a word as “inthronizatus.” Florence
again (1013) mentions only Ealdormen and thegns as joining in the
submission to Swegen, while in the election of Cnut in 1016 he
distinctly speaks of Bishops and Abbots as taking a share. And their
absence seems implied in a statement of William of Malmesbury (ii. 177),
which, though his narrative is evidently inaccurate in many points, is
worth notice. This is that Æthelred (p. 361), before he crossed into
Normandy, held a meeting of Bishops and Abbots, as being the only people
who still clave to him. “Abbates et episcopos, qui nec in tali
necessitate dominum suum deserendum putarent, in hanc convenit
sententiam.”
This at once brings us to the problem of Swegen’s religion. There seems
no reason to doubt the account of his early baptism, his apostasy, his
rebellion against his father. The English and German writers seem to
know nothing of any reconversion. With Thietmar, for instance, a writer
absolutely contemporary, who wrote while the events of 1016 were the
last news of the day (see vii. 27, 28; Pertz, iii. 848), Swegen is to
the end the “immitis Danorum rex” (vii. 26) and “Suennus persecutor”
(28). But the Danish chroniclers assert a repentance and reconversion.
So the Chronicle of Eric (Langebek, i. 158) mentions the baptism of
Harold Blaatand and the parricidal war of Swegen, without however
mentioning Swegen’s early baptism. Thus we read how Swegen “de regno
expulsus, tandem ad Christi fidem conversus, baptizatus est et mox, Deo
favente, regnum suum recepit.” So the Chronicle of Roskild (i. 376);
“Christianis valde inimicus, quos etiam finibus suis expelli
præcepit ... tandem Deum cognovit post flagella, quem cœpit quærere
eique credere.” We then read how he founded churches and brought Bishop
Bernhard from Norway into Scania. So Saxo first (186) describes his
persecutions, and then (188) tells of his conversion, how he was
“fortunæ sævitia ad amplectendam religionis caritatem adactus.” He too
places Swegen’s baptism at this stage; “Quinetiam cunctis circa se rite
peractis, lavacri usum promptissimo religionis tenore percepit.” He
then, as well as the Roskild Chronicle, goes on to tell of the churches
and bishoprics which he founded, and especially how he brought the
English Bishop Bernhard from Norway to Lund. But Adam (ii. 53)
attributes all this to Cnut. Saxo becomes (191) almost affecting on
Swegen’s piety in his old age; “Sveno senilis animæ laboribus fessus,
divinis rebus infatigabilem ultimi temporis curam tribuit,” &c. So the
Encomiast (i. 5) tells us of the good and Christian advice, as well as
the instructions in the art of government, which he gave to his son Cnut
before his death; “Præsciens igitur dissolutionem sui corporis imminere,
filium suum Cnutonem quem secum habuit advocat, sese viam universæ
carnis ingrediendum indicat. Cui dum multa de regni gubernaculo multaque
hortaretur de Christianitatis studio, Deo gratias, illi, virorum
dignissimo sceptrum commisit regale.”
When we balance the two sets of authorities, I think we shall hardly be
inclined to reject the implied witness of the German and English writers
in favour either of a careless writer like Saxo or of an abandoned
flatterer like the Encomiast. The English legend of his death implies a
kind of half belief in the power of Saint Eadmund which is really not
unlikely in such a case. It has a kind of parallel in a story of a
Danish chief, perhaps the Guthrum-Æthelstan who was found making a vow
to Saint Patrick. (See Dr. Todd’s Introduction to the Wars of the
Gaedhill and the Gaill, lxiv, lxv, xciii.) We have the like
contradictions as to Swegen’s death. The Encomiast goes on to tell us
how he prayed his son that his body might be taken to Denmark, and makes
incidentally an admission of some importance. Swegen would not be buried
in England; “noverat enim quia pro invasione regni illis odiosus erat
populis.” He then dies; “Nec multo post postrema naturæ persolvit
debita, animam remittendo cœlestibus, terræ autem reddendo membra.” Saxo
also (191) makes him die very quietly, perhaps in the odour of sanctity;
“Omni humana concussione vacuus, in ipso perfectissimæ vitæ fulgore
decessit.” The English story, as it is told by Florence, I have given in
the text. The Chronicle records only that “he ended his days.” William
of Malmesbury (ii. 179) had heard more stories than one; “pervasor ...
ambiguum qua morte, vitam effudit.” He then goes on to tell the story in
a form slightly different from that of Florence: Swegen seems to have
reached Bury and to be actually harrying the lands of Saint Eadmund;
“Dicitur quod terram Sancti Edmundi depopulanti martyr idem per visum
apparuerit, leniterque de miseria conventum insolentiusque respondentem
in capite perculerit, quo dolore tactum in proximo, ut prædictum est,
obiisse.” The Knytlinga Saga, c. 6 (Johnstone, 89), makes Swegen’s death
sudden, but says significantly that he died in his bed; “urdo þau
tídindi þar, at Sveinn konungr Haralldsson vard bráddaudr um nott í
’reckio sinni.” The tale then goes on to speak of the legend as one told
by Englishmen; “Oc er þat sögn Enskra manna, at Eadmundr hinn helgi hafi
drepit hann, med þeima hætti sem hinn helgi Mercurius drap Julianum
_níding_.” There is no mention of Saint Mercurius in Florence, but the
comparison between Julian and Swegen, according to the English notion of
Swegen, is obvious enough, and the name “níding” (= the English
“niðing”) applied to Julian is worth notice. In after times Orderic (518
A) attributes the death of Swegen to Saint Eadmund, but without details;
“A sancto Edmundo jussu Dei peremptus est.” In Orderic’s eyes Swegen is
still “vesanus idololatra.” The same story is told of the Bulgarian King
Kalojohannes, who died before Thessalonica in 1207. He was smitten by
Saint Dêmêtrios, just as Swegen was by Saint Eadmund. See the Notes to
Georgios Akropolites, p. 236 ed. Bonn, and Jireček, Geschichte der
Bulgaren, p. 242. There is another tale of the same kind in p. 246.
As for Swegen’s body, Thietmar (vii. 28) says, in a marked but not very
clear way; “hujus proles, multum in omnibus patrissantes, dilecti
genitoris corpus delatum flebiliter suscipiunt et tumulant, et quidquid
dedecoris patri suimet ingeri ab Anglis propositum est, paratis navibus
ulcisci studebant.” This must be taken in connexion with the significant
remark of the Encomiast quoted in the last paragraph. He presently goes
on (ii. 3) to tell us how an English lady (“quædam matronarum
Anglicarum”)—had Swegen found his Eadgyth Swanneshals in England?—dug up
the body which had been buried in England (“assumpto corpore Sueini
regis sua in patria sepulti”), embalmed it, and carried it in a ship to
Denmark. She then summoned Cnut and Harold to come and bury their father
in the place which he had himself appointed. They come accordingly and
bury him honourably in the tomb which he had himself made in the minster
of the Holy Trinity of his own rearing (“honorificentiusque illud in
monasterio in honore sanctæ Trinitatis ab eodem rege constructo, in
sepulcro quod sibi paraverat recondunt”). From the Saga of Olaf
Tryggvesson (Johnstone, 101), which says nothing about the manner of
Swegen’s death, we find that this minster is Roskild. “Sveirn konungr
andadist í Englandi oc færdo Danir han til Danmerkur oc grofo þan í
Hroiskeldo hia födr sinum.” The English lady is here left out.
NOTE RR. p. 369.
THE SERMON OF WULFSTAN OR LUPUS.
There is, I suppose, no question that the person affectedly described as
“Lupus” is really Archbishop Wulfstan. And I have little doubt in fixing
the discourse to the year 1014. This is the date given in the heading of
one of the manuscripts, while another has 1008. In an insertion in the
text itself the discourse is said to have been delivered four years
before the death of Æthelred. “Ðis wæs on Æþelredes cyningcs dagum
gediht, feower geara fæce ær he forðferde.” This would at first sight
look as if the right year were 1012. But the discourse itself contains a
passage which shows that it must be later than Æthelred’s flight in
1013. The speaker says (p. 102) that the two most shameful deeds that
can be done are to compass one’s lord’s death and to drive him out of
the land. Each of these crimes, he says, has been done in England
(“ægðer is geworden on ðysum earde”); Eadward has been murdered; we
expect the speaker to add that Æthelred has been driven out; but either
some words have been lost in the text or else Wulfstan left it to his
hearers to fill up the gap for themselves. But in any case the passage
would have no force or meaning at any time before Æthelred’s flight. And
I am not sure that it is not possible, by a little chronological
subtlety, to reconcile the date of 1014 with the other date of four
years before the death of Æthelred. The year begins at different times
in different reckonings. In a chronology which made the year begin at
Lady-day, Æthelred’s death on April 23, 1016 would come in a year
1016–1017, while, if the sermon was preached before March 25, in a year
1013–1014, this might possibly be called the fourth year before the
other. It may no doubt have been delivered just at the end of what we
should call the year 1013, but the matter of the discourse agrees so
well with the matter of the decrees of the Gemót of 1014 that one is
strongly tempted to connect the two. It cannot in any case belong to
1012. See p. 361.
It is remarkable how little strictly historical information the speech
gives us. Indeed the one historical fact which it mentions is wrong, as
Wulfstan says that the body of Eadward the Martyr was burned (“Eadweard
man forræde and syððan acwealde and æfter þam forbærnde”). But it is
none the less valuable as a picture of the wretchedness of the times, a
picture which goes very much into detail in its general descriptions,
though without mentioning the names of persons or places. I have summed
up most of the chief points in the text. Among the passages which are
most worthy of notice are those which relate to the slave-trade. The
orator first says (p. 100);
“Earme men syndon sare beswicene and hreowlice besyrwde and ut of þysum
earde wide gesealde swyþe unforworhte fremdum to gewealde, and
cradolcild geðeowode þurh wælhreowe unlaga for lytelre ðyfðe wide gynd
ðas þeode. And freo riht fornumene and ðrælriht genyrwde and ælmesriht
gewanode.”
The other passage (102) says;
“Eac we witan full georne hwær seo yrmð gewearð þæt fæder gesealde his
bearn wið weorðe, and bearn his modor, and broðor sealde oðerne fremdum
to gewealde ut of ðisse ðeode.”
Slavery also brought its own punishment in other ways. The slaves often
joined the heathen invaders (“ðeh þræla hwylc hlaforde æthlæpe and of
cristendome to wicinge weorðe”); sometimes a thegn’s slave led his own
master into slavery (“and oft þræl ðæne ðegen ðe ær wæs his hlaford,
cnyt swyðe fæste and wyrcð him to þræle, ðurh Godes yrre”). The lustful
excesses of Englishmen, several of whom would hire a harlot in common
(p. 102), were avenged by the outrages of the invaders on the wives and
daughters of English thegns (“and oft tyne oððe twelfe, ælc after oðrum,
scendað and tawiað to bismore micelum ðæs ðegenes cwenan, and hwilum his
dohtor oððe nyd magan; þær he onlocað þa læte hine sylfne rancne and
rincne and genoh godne ær þæt gewurðe.” p. 103. Cf. Herod, viii. 33).
Two or three pirates drove all the people from sea to sea (“oft twegen
sæmen oððe ðry hwilum drifað ða drafe Cristenra manna fram sæ to sæ ut
ðurh ðæs ðeode gewelede togædere.” p. 103).
Lastly, there is an apparent allusion to the capture of Canterbury and
captivity of Ælfheah and others, which certainly falls in better with my
notion of that event than with the notion of a general massacre. “We hym
gyldað singallice, and hy us hynað dæghwamlice: hy hergiað and hy
bærnað, rypað and _ræpiað and to scipe lædað_.” (p. 103). This almost
sounds like the poem in the Chronicles about Ælfheah. One might almost
have thought that the speech was made during the time of Ælfheah’s
imprisonment, but the manifest allusion to the flight of Æthelred
forbids this.
NOTE SS. p. 372.
THE CHILDREN OF ÆTHELRED.
The list of the children of Æthelred, among the genealogies given by
Florence (i. 275, Thorpe), is manifestly imperfect. He is there said to
have had by his first wife Ælfgifu, the daughter of Ealdorman
Æthelberht, three sons, Eadmund, Eadwig, and Æthelstan, and one
daughter, Eadgyth. He then mentions the two sons of Emma, Ælfred and
Eadward, but does not mention Emma’s daughter Godgifu. This list is
copied by R. Higden (270) and Knighton (2314), only changing Ælfgifu
daughter of Æthelberht into Æthelgifu daughter of Ecgberht. The three
sons of the first marriage here mentioned are those who survived to play
a part in the history, but it appears from the charters that Ælfgifu, if
that was her name, was the mother of several other sons. I quote the
doubtful charters along with the genuine ones, as this is the kind of
point in which one who either forged a charter or wrote down a lost
charter from memory would be sure to reproduce what he had seen in
genuine documents. Thus in a doubtful charter of 990 (Cod. Dipl. iii.
250) we have the signatures of Æthelstan, Ecgberht or Ecgbriht, Eadmund,
Eadred, Eadwig, Eadgar, and Eadward. All sign with the title of “clito,”
which is of course equivalent to Ætheling. In iii. 270, we have
Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, and Eadred, all with the title of “regis
filius.” At iii. 308, a seemingly genuine charter of 998, we have the
“clitones” Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig. In iii. 314
(999) we have Æhelstan and Eadred. In iii. 321 (1001) Æthelstan,
Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig, and Eadgar; and the same list in iii.
325 (1002). At iii. 330, in a doubtful charter of 1004, Æthelstan, as
the eldest son, signs on behalf of his brothers. In a genuine charter of
the same year (iii. 334) we have the same list which I have already
quoted with the omission of the name Eadred. In vi. 142 (1002) we have
the same list with the name of Eadred. In another of the same year, vi.
146, the list stands, Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadward, Eadwig,
Eadgar. In vi. 153 (1005) the list is Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund,
Eadric, Eadwig, Eadgar, Eadward. In 1007 (vi. 156) it stands, Æthelstan,
Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig, Eadgar, Eadward. In another of the same year
(vi. 159) Æthelstan signs on behalf of all his brothers (“Ego Æðelstanus
filius regis cum fratribus meis clitonibus adplaudens consensi”). In a
doubtful charter of 1013 (vi. 166) the signatures are Æthelstan,
Eadmund, Eadward, Ælfred, and Eadwig, and in a genuine one of 1014 (vi.
169) we have Eadmund, Eadwig, Eadward, and Ælfred. Lastly, in 1015 (vi.
171) we have Eadmund and Eadward only.
From all this it seems certain that Æthelstan was the eldest son and
Eadmund the third, the intermediate brother Ecgbriht dying, it would
seem, about 1005. It now becomes an important point whether Æthelstan
was alive at the time of his father’s death. This I shall discuss in
another Note. His will (iii. 361), a very important document, of which I
shall have to speak again, is witnessed by Eadmund, and contains
bequests both to him and to Eadwig. We may perhaps also infer that
Eadred was dead as well as Ecgbriht, and Eadric also, if the single
signature of that name be not a mistake. But from the mention of
“brothers” (“fratres”) of Eadmund as surviving him (see page 405) one
might be inclined to think that one at least of Eadmund’s younger
brothers, besides Eadwig, was alive at the beginning of 1017. For Cnut
had much more reason to dread opposition from Eadmund’s brothers of the
whole blood than from the sons of Emma. And if Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, and
perhaps Eadred, were dead, Eadgar might be alive. There would also seem
to have been an Eadward a son of the first marriage, as (to say nothing
of the doubtful charter of 990, and of that of 984, mentioned below)
Eadward the son of Emma could not have signed in 1002, though he might
in 1005, if the pen was held in the child’s hand. If so, this elder
Eadward doubtless died before the birth of his namesake.
Of the daughters of the first marriage Florence mentions only Eadgyth
the wife of Eadric. But we seem to have evidence enough for Wulfhild the
wife of Ulfeytel (see p. 654) and for Ælfgifu the wife of Uhtred (see p.
330). We also need a fourth daughter to account for the King’s
son-in-law Æthelstan, who died in the battle of Ringmere (see p. 347).
The mother of these children, as I have said, is called by Florence
Ælfgifu, the daughter of Ealdorman Æthelberht. I cannot however find any
Ealdorman of that name. Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 362, 372) calls
her the daughter of Earl Thored (see p. 661). William of Malmesbury (ii.
179) professes ignorance of her name, and speaks of her birth as
ignoble; “Erat iste Edmundus non ex Emma natus, sed ex quadam alia quam
fama obscura recondit.” He then goes on to magnify Eadmund, saying that
he was one “qui patris ignaviam, matris ignobilitatem, virtute sua probe
premeret si Parcæ parcere nossent.” Roger of Wendover speaks nearly to
the same effect in i. 451. I do not understand Lappenberg’s note (431,
ii. 163 Thorpe), where he quotes the Scholiast on Adam of Bremen as
calling her “Afficud,” which he takes to be Ælflæd. Mr. Thorpe (Dipl.
Angl. 542) further identifies her with the Æthelflæd whose will he has
there printed. But, at least in Pertz’ edition (ii. 51, Schol. 39), the
name is “Afelrud,” and she is described as the step-mother of Eadward
the son of Eadgar, that is, of course, Ælfthryth. I would rather
identify her with the Ælfgifu whose will appears in Cod. Dipl. iii. 359.
This cannot belong to Ælfgifu-Emma, as it speaks of her sister Ælfwaru
and her brother’s wife Æthelflæd. (These three names again come together
in the will of Wynflæd, Cod. Dipl. iii. 293.) It reads to me like the
will of a King’s wife, yet it contains bequests not only to the Ætheling
but to the Lady. Mr. Kemble gives it the date of 1012, and a bequest to
Bishop Æthelwold (1006–1014) shows that it cannot be far from that date.
Several questions arise out of this. Was Æthelred’s first wife divorced
to make room for the Norman Lady? Or was she only a mistress or Danish
wife? I do not think she is ever called “regina,” and Æthelred of
Rievaux seems pointedly to contrast her with “regina Emma.” And again,
were all these sons and daughters children of one mother? There is a
very strange charter (Cod. Dipl. iii. 204) which must be spurious or at
least wrongly dated, as Æthelred, born in 969, cannot have had six sons
in 984; but the signatures are worth notice from their very strangeness.
They run thus, “Æðelstan,” “Eadgar clito,” “Eadmund frater prædicti
clitonis,” “Eadweard clito,” “Eadward filius regis,” “Eadwig frater
clitonum.” This does not read like a list of sons of one mother.
Lappenberg (u. s.) makes Æthelred marry in his seventeenth year, but I
have not found his authority. At any rate his third son Eadmund cannot
have been born, as Roger of Wendover (i. 422) tells us, in 981, when
Æthelred was twelve years old.
It should again be noticed that in the will of Æthelstan (Cod. Dipl.
iii. 363) there is no mention of his mother, living or dead, and that he
speaks of his grandmother Ælfthryth as having reared him (“Ælfðryðe
mínre ealdormódor ðe me áfédde”). Ælfthryth was living in 999, as
appears by her signature in Cod. Dipl. iii. 314; perhaps later, as she
(Cod. Dipl. iii. 353) addresses a writ to Archbishop Ælfric who lived to
1006. The young Æthelings and their grandmother are again spoken of in
the will of Wynflæd (Cod. Dipl. iii. 292), which, as mentioning
Archbishop Sigeric, comes between 990 and 994. But here again is no
mention of their mother, unless she lurks among the cloud of witnesses,
“Ælfwaru, Ælfgifu, and Æthelflæd,” names which we have just before seen
in company.
I am afraid therefore that I must leave the first marriage of Æthelred
shrouded in some obscurity. The Scandinavian writers cut the knot by
giving all Æthelred’s children to Emma. Thus in the Knytlinga Saga
(Johnstone, 130) Cnut is called Eadmund’s stepfather, and again (139)
Emma is distinctly called the mother of Eadmund and his brothers. So
Snorro (ib. 97), speaking of the Norman Dukes, says expressly that Emma,
daughter of Richard and sister of Dukes William and Robert, whomever he
may mean, married Æthelred, and was mother of Eadmund, Eadward the Good,
Eadwig, and Eadgar (“Eadmundr oc Eadvardr hinn gódi, Eatvígr oc
Eatgeir”). It is odd that the last two names should have been
remembered.
So Thietmar (Pertz, vii. 28) mistakes Æthelstan and Eadmund for children
of Emma. Walter Map, on the other hand (De Nugis, 203), confounds the
sons of Emma with their nephews, the sons of Eadmund and Ealdgyth. At
least Eadward and Ælfred reached Normandy (see p. 361) only by the help
of the Hungarian King. Cnut, having married Emma, tries in vain to find
her sons; “Rapuerat enim eos, ut præparavit Altissimus, a tumultu et
turbine miles quidam, et clam in cymba positos in portum impulit, et
regiis ornatos insigniis cum brevi cognitionis et cognationis eorum
dispositioni divinæ supposuit. Illi autem in die secundo a mercatoribus
Pannoniæ vagientes inventi sunt, et ab Hungarorum rege redempti, et ad
avunculum suum ducem [Normannorum sc.] remissi.” This story is one of a
whole class of tales of persons exposed in boats. See Historical Essays,
First Series, p. 13.
NOTE TT. p. 381.
THE ELECTIONS OF CNUT AND EADMUND.
Cnut may be said to have been three times elected to the crown. The
first time is in 1014, on the death of his father Swegen (see p. 367),
when the election was made wholly by the Danish fleet, and when the
Witan of England passed their vote for the restoration of Æthelred. But
on the death of Æthelred he seems to have been more regularly elected by
a large portion at least of the English Witan. The fact is not stated in
the Chronicles, but it is distinctly affirmed by Florence, and the words
of the Chronicles (1016), if carefully studied, will perhaps be found to
give the statement of Florence a negative confirmation. It is only the
latest and least authoritative version of the Chronicles, the Canterbury
manuscript, which states the election of Eadmund to have been an act of
the Witan of all England; “And æfter his [Æðelredes] ende ealle
Angelcynnes witan gecuron Eadmund to cinge.” The three other Chroniclers
seem carefully to mark the act as more partial and local. They say only,
“And þá æfter his ende ealle ða witan þá on Lundene wǽron and seo
burhwaru gecuron Eadmund to cýninge.” When we remember that London was
the only place which still held out, and that Wessex itself was in the
power of Cnut, we shall probably have little difficulty in accepting the
account in Florence. His words are as follows;
“Cujus [Ægelredi] post mortem, episcopi, abbates, duces, et quique
nobiliores Angliæ, in unum congregati, pari consensu, in dominum et
regem sibi Canutum elegere, et ad eum in Suthamtonia venientes, omnemque
progeniem regis Ægelredi coram illo abnegando repudiantes, pacem cum eo
composuere, et fidelitatem illi juravere; quibus et ille juravit quod,
et secundum Deum et secundum seculum, fidelis esse vellet eis dominus.
At cives Lundonienses, et pars nobilium, qui eo tempore consistebant
Lundoniæ, clitonem Eadmundum unanimi consensu in regem levavere.”
I accept then the double election, and there can be no doubt that the
election of Eadmund was the earlier of the two. The Witan of his party
were on the spot, while those who chose Cnut had to come together from
various places to Southampton. The election of Eadmund also seems to
have been followed by a coronation, while the election of Cnut answered
rather to the submission made to William at Berkhampstead, between which
and his coronation at Westminster some little time passed. Florence
seems pointedly to exclude a coronation of Cnut, while, though he does
not distinctly affirm, he seems rather to imply the ceremony in the case
of Eadmund. For he immediately adds, “qui solii regalis sublimatus
culmine, intrepidus West-Saxoniam adiit sine cunctatione.” And Eadmund’s
coronation in Saint Paul’s by Lyfing appears in three later, but two of
them very respectable, authorities. Ralph de Diceto, in his series of
Archbishops of Canterbury (Ang. Sacr. ii. 683), says of Lyfing, “Hic
consecravit Edmundum Ferreum Latus, et postmodum Cnutonem regem Daciæ.”
So Bromton (904), “Londonienses cum nonnulla parte procerum Edmundum
filium regis Ethelredi in regem levaverunt, qui a Livingo Dorobernensi
archiepiscopo apud Londonias consecratus est.” And in the list of
coronations in the Rishanger volume (426) we read,
“Anno gratiæ millesimosexto-decimo, Londoniis, coronatio Edmundi Ferrei
Lateris, filii regis Ethelredi, qui in eodem anno proditionaliter
interfectus, Glastoniæ est sepultus.
“Anno gratiæ millesimo septimo-decimo, Londoniis, coronatio Cnutonis
regis, filii _David_. Hic vicesimo regni anno mortuus, apud Wyntoniam
est humatus.”
I have no notion whatever why Swegen or Otto should be called David; but
these entries in Rishanger, though not contemporary, are not the _obiter
dicta_ of a man who is carelessly compiling a story, but the assertions
of a man who is giving the results of his special inquiries into a
special subject. As therefore there is no contemporary authority to set
against them, and as they fit in with the slight indication in Florence,
I accept them. Lyfing then was one of the Witan who were in London with
Eadmund, and he performed the ceremony of Eadmund’s royal consecration
at once on his election. But Cnut remained uncrowned till after his
second or third election after the death of Eadmund. This was doubtless
one reason among others why, in the agreement between Cnut and Eadmund,
the Imperial dignity remained with the West-Saxon.
It is worth noticing that both candidates were most likely chosen over
the heads of their own elder brothers. Cnut clearly was so chosen at his
first election by the Danish fleet. In choosing a successor to Swegen in
his conquered kingdom of England, Harold, who succeeded him in Denmark
(see p. 366), was passed by in favour of his more promising brother. At
the Southampton election Cnut was chosen on the same grounds on which
William was afterwards chosen, because he was the conqueror, and a
conqueror far more fully in possession of the conquered land than
William was in December 1066. If Harold had any share in the war, he was
altogether overshadowed by his brother. But was Eadmund the eldest
surviving son of Æthelred? We have seen in the last Note that he had two
elder brothers, Æthelstan and Ecgbriht. Of these there can be little
doubt that Ecgbriht was dead, but the case is not so clear about
Æthelstan. One story, which I shall have to examine in the next Note,
seems to hint that he took a part in the war of Cnut and Eadmund and
died during its course. His will, of which I have already spoken and
shall have to speak again, was made during his father’s lifetime, but it
does not follow that he died before his father. The point is an obscure
one, but it is worth inquiring into, for to choose a younger brother
over the head of an elder, though a perfectly legal measure, was a
strong and unusual one. If it be the fact, it does equal honour to both
brothers. The merits of Eadmund must have been great, if he was thus
preferred to an elder brother, while no praise can be too great for the
conduct of Æthelstan in quietly accepting and loyally serving a younger
brother thus chosen over his own head.
Another question arises as to the ecclesiastical position of Cnut at the
time of the Southampton election. It is not very clear when Cnut was
baptized; our notices on this point have to be sought for in rather out
of the way places. In the Aquitanian history of Ademar, iii. 55 (Pertz,
iv. 140), we read, “Rex Canotus de Danamarcha paganus, mortuo Adalrado
rege Anglorum, regnum ejus dolo cepit et reginam Anglorum in conjugium
accepit, quæ erat soror comitis Rotomensis Richardi, et factus
Christianus utraque regna tenuit, et quoscumque potuit ex paganis de
Danamarcha ad fidem Christi pertraxit.” Another manuscript adds, “Pater
ejus paganus nomine _Asquec_ solum regnum de Danamarca tenuit.” “Asquec”
as the name of Cnut’s father seems at first sight as incomprehensible as
the name David, but Pertz is doubtless right in hinting that it is a
corruption of his nickname _Tveskiæg_, “Fork-beard,” or, in plain
English, _Two-shag_. The religion of Swegen, as we have seen, is a
problem, but the chances are certainly against his son being baptized in
his infancy. One Danish Chronicler, as we have already seen (see p.
375), makes Cnut be baptized by Unwan, Archbishop of Bremen, in the
middle of his war with Æthelred; and this may seem to draw some
confirmation from the statement of the Scholiast on Adam of Bremen, 38
(ii. 50); “Knut, filius Suein regis, abjecto nomine gentilitatis, in
baptismo Lambertus nomen accepit. Unde scriptum est in libro
fraternitatis nostræ Lambrecht rex Danorum, et Imma regina, et Knut
filius eorum, devote se commendaverunt orationibus fratrum Bremensium.”
If Cnut was baptized by the name of Lambert, he was none the less always
called by his heathen name, just as his father was never known as Otto,
nor Rolf as Robert. We also read in Osbern’s tract on the Translation of
Saint Ælfheah (Ang. Sacr. ii. 144) that Archbishop Æthelnoth was “regi
[Cnutoni] propterea quod illum sancto chrismate livisset valde
acceptus.” This cannot refer to his coronation, which was not performed
by Æthelnoth, and it can hardly refer to his baptism. I suspect
therefore that it refers to confirmation, and that Cnut was confirmed at
the time of the Southampton election. His case would thus be very like
that of the elder Olaf (see above, p. 290), who was confirmed after a
much earlier baptism at the time of his peace with Æthelred. The
Christianity of Cnut at the time of that election is plainly implied in
the words of the oath put into his mouth by Florence.
The final accession of Cnut after the death of Eadmund forms the first
entry in each of the four Chronicles under the year 1017; “Hér on þissum
geare _feng_ Cnut kyning _tó_ eallon Angelcynnes [Englalandes, Ab.]
_ryce_.” The Winchester Chronicle alone, in one of its short and
occasional entries, says, “Her Cnut wearð _gecoren_ to kinge.” The
expression in the other four is probably chosen advisedly; for, as Cnut
succeeded by virtue of the terms of the Olney compact, there was no need
of any formal election. Florence, whose fuller account I have followed
in the text, uses the words expressive of election only in a sort of
incidental way; “Ipse juraverunt illi quod eum regem sibi eligere
vellent, eique humiliter obedire.” What he chiefly insists on is the
examination of the witnesses—false witnesses, as he says they were—to
show that Cnut really was entitled to succeed under the compact.
Florence divides the details of Cnut’s accession between the two years
1016 and 1017; he might thus be thought to speak of two distinct
assemblies; but as there is no trace of more than one in the Chronicles,
I am disposed to think that the two accounts are merely two narratives
of the proceedings of the same Gemót, perhaps rather unskilfully
borrowed from two sources. Florence begins the year on the first of
January, and the ordinary session of a Midwinter Gemót, taking in the
twelve days of Christmas, would really extend into both years. The
coronation of Cnut, like the coronation of Harold, most likely took
place on the feast of the Epiphany. We have seen that there is every
reason to believe that the ceremony was performed in Saint Paul’s by
Archbishop Lyfing. The coronation, it must be remembered, would involve
the ecclesiastical election by clergy and people. See vol. iii. p. 627.
How utterly the real story was forgotten, and above all how utterly the
true position of Cnut at the time of his father’s death passed out of
his mind, is nowhere better shown than in the version of Walter Map (De
Nugis, 202). The English, according to him, especially the Londoners,
were so tired of Æthelred that they sent for help to Cnut, who, it would
seem, had already founded his Northern Empire. “Erat illa tempestate
regum omnium ditissimus et strenuissimus Dacorum rex Chnutus. Hic ab
optimatibus Angliæ vocatus, et frequentibus epistolis illectus, non
invitis sed invitantibus Anglicis et cum gaudio suscipientibus, cum
exercitu nimio in Danesiam illapsus est, quæ nunc usque dicitur a Dacis,
ut aiunt, Danesia.” (Where is “Danesey”?) Presently, Cnut comes, “ab
invitatoribus suis Londoniensibus susceptus.”
NOTE VV. p. 383.
THE WAR OF CNUT AND EADMUND.
The English narratives of this great year of battles agree well together
on the whole, and I see no difficulty in accepting the story as it is
given in them. The part played by Eadric is indeed hard to understand,
but so is his career throughout, and I can see no ground for casting
aside the unanimous witness of our authorities and placing any arbitrary
conjecture in its stead. We have first the narrative in the Chronicles.
The three elder versions agree together, with only the smallest verbal
differences; the later Canterbury Chronicle gives the story in an
abridged shape; Florence, William of Malmesbury, and Henry of
Huntingdon, tell essentially the same story. Their versions are plainly
grounded on the history in the Chronicles, seemingly with some help from
contemporary songs. This is especially plain in Henry of Huntingdon. His
narrative of this campaign, like his narrative of the campaign of
Stamfordbridge (see vol. iii. p. 733), is a mere meagre abridgement till
he reaches the battle of Assandun, when he lights up and gives a
spirited account, which evidently comes from a ballad. In all these
accounts, whether coming from Chroniclers or from minstrels, the treason
of Eadric stands out distinctly. And it stands out no less distinctly in
the account given from the Danish side by the author of the Encomium
Emmæ, of which I shall speak more presently.
I will now mention a few points in detail, in which the English writers
differ from one another, or which call for attention on any other
ground.
It is, I think, plain that Eadmund, on leaving London, was at once
accepted by the West-Saxons, or such part of them as he had been able to
reach before he was overtaken by Cnut at Penselwood. These would be the
forces of Somerset, Dorset, Devonshire, and part of Wiltshire. This we
gather from Florence’s account of the battle of Sherstone. The Chronicle
says distinctly, “Eadmund cyng ... gerad þa Westsexon, and him beah eall
folc tó.” So Florence more fully, “Intrepidus West-Saxoniam adiit sine
cunctatione, et ab omni populo magna susceptus gratulatione, suæ ditioni
subegit eam citissime; quibus auditis multi Anglorum populi magna cum
festinatione illi se dederunt voluntarie.”
No doubt, as soon as Eadmund’s standard was once raised, volunteers
would drop in from all parts which were not actually occupied by a
Danish military force. The expressions of Florence implying something
like a conquest, though of course a perfectly willing conquest, of
Wessex by Eadmund will be understood if we remember that Cnut was
actually the acknowledged King, by the choice of all the Witan who were
not actually within the walls of London. I do not quite understand
William of Malmesbury (ii. 180), who seems to think that Eadmund took a
force with him from London (“oppidani Edmundum in regem conclamant.
Ipse, mox congregato exercitu, apud Pennam juxta Gilingeham Danos
fugavit”), and that the West-Saxons did not acknowledge him till after
the battle of Sherstone—“quo facto West-Saxonum conversi animi dominum
legitimum cognoverunt.”
I see no reason to doubt that the Sceorstan of the Chronicles is
Sherstone in Wiltshire, and not Chimney in Oxfordshire, as suggested by
Mr. Thorpe in his note on Florence. Mr. Thorpe objects that Florence
places the battle “in Hwiccia,” and that Sherstone, as being in
Wiltshire, does not answer that description. But Florence also places
the battle of Pen “in Dorsetania,” which Pen Selwood is not, though
Gillingham is. But both Sherstone and Pen Selwood are so near to the
marches of their respective shires, that military operations may well
have extended in both cases beyond the border.
As for the details of the battle of Sherstone, I have mainly followed
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.
As for the behaviour of the housecarls to the mass of the people and the
feeling with which they were looked at by the mass of the people, we can
say very little in the absence of any direct evidence. They were a
standing army in days when a standing army was a new thing, and a
standing army, as long as it is a new thing, is never a popular
institution. And the housecarls at first were not only a standing army,
but a standing army largely made up of foreigners and conquerors. Still
everything both in the reign of Cnut and in the reign of Eadward would
tend to make the force grow more and more national and popular. The time
when it was likely to be abused, as we know that it was abused, was in
the days of Cnut’s sons. Still, even under Harold the son of Godwine, we
can perhaps discern a certain tinge of ill-will in the words
“stippendiarii” and “mercenarii,” which seem to breathe the same spirit
as the manifest dislike to Danegelds and _heregelds_, perhaps one might
say to taxes of every kind. But I see no sign of any strong ill-will
between the housecarls and the people at any time. I can find no
evidence for the highly-coloured picture given by Mr. St. John (ii. 99)
of their insolence in Cnut’s days, though it is likely enough that such
things sometimes happened. But the reference which he gives to the
Ramsey History (c. lxxxv. p. 441) is only a legend about Bishop Æthelric
making a Danish thegn—married, by the way, to an Englishwoman—drunk, and
so getting a grant of lands out of him. As for Bromton’s tales about
Englishmen having to stand on bridges while the Danes passed, having to
bow to the Danes, and the like (X Scriptt. 934), they prove very little
indeed. They are parts of an historical confusion which I shall
presently have to mention, and they seem to be placed in the time of
Cnut’s sons rather than in that of Cnut himself.
One point more remains with regard to the relations of the housecarls to
the people at large. Though there is no mention of the force in the
genuine English laws, yet in the so-called Laws of Eadward the Confessor
(Thorpe, i. 449) and in Bracton (iii. 15. 2, 3) the legal process of
“Murdrum,” and in Bracton the Presentment of Englishry also, is traced
up to the institutions of Cnut. When Cnut, we are told, sent away the
mass of his Danish troops, at the request of the Witan (“rogatu baronum
Anglorum,” “precatu baronum de terra”), the Witan pledged themselves
that the rest should be safe in life and limb (“firmam pacem haberent”),
and that any Englishman who killed any of them should suffer punishment.
If the murderer could not be discovered, the township or hundred was
fined. Out of this, we are told by Bracton, grew the doctrine, continued
under the Norman Kings, that an unknown corpse was presumed to be that
of a Frenchman—in Cnut’s time, doubtless, that of a Dane—and that the
“Englishry” of a slain person had to be proved. The “Laws of Eadward” of
course contain no notice of “Englishry” as opposed to Frenchry—if I may
coin such a word; but neither do they mention it as opposed to Danishry.
They simply record the promise of the Witan—not an unreasonable one—that
Cnut’s soldiers should be under the protection of the law. This is
likely enough; anything more is the mere carrying back of Norman
institutions into earlier times. In the Dialogus de Scaccario (i. 10)
there is no hint of the “Murdrum” and “Englishry” being older than the
Norman Conquest. See vol. v. pp. 443, 444.
We shall as we go on come across many passages in which the housecarls
both of the King and of the great Earls are spoken of. Among the
charters of Eadward are several (Cod. Dipl. iv. 201, 204, 221, cf. 200)
containing grants to the King’s housecarls. The three grantees spoken of
are called Thurstan, Urk, and Wulfnoth—the last at all events being an
Englishman, perhaps a kinsman of Godwine. The two latter writs are
addressed to Earl Harold. In the oldest (201), a Middlesex writ,
addressed to Bishop Robert, Osgod Clapa, and Ulf the Sheriff, Thurstan
is described in the English copy as “Ðurstan min huskarll,” in the Latin
as “præfectus meus palatinus Ðurstanus.” As Mr. Kemble says (ii. 123),
such a description could not apply to every man in so large a body; so
we may infer that Thurstan stood high in the service. There is also the
will of Wulfwig, Bishop of Dorchester (Cod. Dipl. iv. 290), which is
witnessed by a crowd of people, great and small, from the King and the
Lady downwards, including some signatures of large bodies of men; “On
eallra ðæs kynges húscarlan and on his mæsse-préostan ... and on eallra
ðára burhwara gewitnesse on Lincolne and on eallra ðæra manna ðe seceað
gearmorkett tó Stowe.” This immediately follows on the signatures of the
Stallers Ansgar, Ralph, and Lyfing, from which Mr. Kemble (ii. 122)
infers that the Stallers were the special commanders of the force.
Housecarls are also mentioned several times in Domesday (see Ellis, i.
91; ii. 151; Kelham, 238), and in Simeon of Durham (Gest. Regg. 1071;
see vol. iv. pp. 304, 513) we find a housecarl not only reckoned among
the “principales viri” of Northumberland, but high in personal favour
with William; “Eilaf huscarl apud regem præpollens honore.”
NOTE LLL. p. 448.
CNUT’S RELATIONS WITH SCOTLAND.
I. The authorities for the Battle of Carham are the Melrose Chronicle
(in anno), and two entries of Simeon of Durham, one in his general
History (Gest. Regg. in anno), the other in his History of the Church of
Durham (iii. 5; ap. X Scriptt. 30). The Melrose writer (p. 155) simply
says, “Ingens bellum inter Anglos et Scottos apud Carham geritur.” This
entry seems an abridgement of that in Simeon’s Annals; “Ingens bellum
apud Carrum gestum est inter Scottos et Anglos, inter Huctredum filium
Waldef comitem Northymbrorum, et Malcolmum filium Cyneth regem
Scottorum, cum quo fuit in bello Eugenius Calvus rex Lutinensium.” From
neither of these accounts should we learn which side was victorious. But
in the Durham History Simeon becomes explicit, if not exaggerated;
“Universus a flumine Tesa usque Twedam populus, dum contra infinitam
Scottorum multitudinem apud Carrum dimicaret, pene totus cum natu
majoribus suis interiit.” In the Durham Annals (Pertz, xviii. 507) there
is a further notice; “Fuit apud Carrum illud famosum bellum inter
Northanhymbros et Scottos, ubi pene totus sancti Cuthberti populos
interiit, inter quos etiam xviii sacerdotes, qui inconsulte se
intermiscuerant bello; quo audito præscriptus episcopus dolorem et vitam
morte finivit.” It is not clear whether this is the event referred to by
Fordun (iv. 40), where he tells us that Duncan was sent by Malcolm to
meet the Danes and Northumbrians (“qui tunc velut una gens coierant”),
who were on their march to ravage Cumberland. He met them and defeated
them with great slaughter. Fordun seems to place this before the death
of Æthelred; in so confused a writer the chronological difficulty is of
no great consequence; it is of more importance that a Northumbrian army,
marching to invade any part of Cumberland, would hardly pass by Carham.
There are several points to be noticed here. First, the event of 1018,
like the event of 1066, was ushered in by a comet which, though it is
not mentioned by our national Chroniclers, seems to have deeply affected
local imaginations. “Northanimbrorum populis,” says Simeon in his local
work, “per xxx. noctes cometa apparuit, quæ terribili præsagio futuram
provinciæ cladem præmonstravit. Siquidem paullo post, id est post
triginta dies,” &c. Then follows the account of the battle.
Secondly, Simeon, accurate as he commonly is, has gone wrong—who could
feel certain of not going wrong?—among the Earls of his own land. His
Uhtred ought (see above, p. 587) to be Eadwulf. It was he, “ignavus
valde et timidus,” who now, according to one view (see above, p. 585),
ceded Lothian to the victorious Malcolm.
Thirdly, for “Lutinensium” in Simeon we should, according to Mr.
Robertson (i. 99), read “Clutinensium.”
Fourthly, the extent of the district from which the English army came
should be noticed. It came from the land between Tees and Tweed, that is
from old Bernicia, without Lothian. This suggests the question why
Lothian, if it was not ceded for the first time till after the battle,
did not take a part in the war as well as the rest of the earldom.
Fifthly, the “natu majores” of Simeon are doubtless the “yldestan” of
our English Chronicles. See p. 591, and below, p. 777. On this slaughter
of the nobility, compare the same result at Assandun, p. 392.
II. With regard to Cnut’s later relations with Scotland, our own
Chronicles contain no entries on Scottish affairs earlier than the great
submission of 1031. So far as the sagas can be relied upon, they
certainly represent Cnut as exercising lordship in Scotland at an
earlier time. In Snorro’s Saga of Olaf Haraldsson (Laing, ii. 195) we
read how Cnut “reigned over Denmark and England and had conquered for
himself a great part of Scotland.” And again we read (Laing, ii. 196;
Johnstone, 148), both in prose and verse, how two Kings came to Cnut
from Scotland out of Fife, and how he received them to favour, restored
their lands, and gave them fresh gifts (“til hans komo tveir konungar
nordan af Skotlandi, af Fifi, oc gaf hann þeim upp reídi sína, oc lönd
þau öll, er þeir höfdo ádr átt, oc þar med stórar vingiafir”). This is
placed while Cnut is still only intriguing, and not yet fighting,
against Olaf, that is, at some time before the battle of the Helga in
1025. This story may be merely a transfer to a wrong date of the
submission of 1031, or it may be a record of some earlier submission. If
the sagas are extremely confused in their chronology, our Chronicles are
during this reign extremely meagre in their entries. The Knytlinga Saga
also (c. 17; Johnstone, 144) not only makes Cnut subdue a large part of
Scotland, but sets his son Harold over it as Under-king, as Swegen was
in Norway and Harthacnut in Denmark (see below, p. 775). This seems to
be put before the Roman pilgrimage, but the chronology is very confused.
The Roman pilgrimage seems to be put after the conquest of Norway. And
of a reign of Harold in Scotland nothing, as far as I know, is mentioned
elsewhere.
There is also the account in Fordun (iv. 41) of Cnut’s relations with
Cumberland, to which I have referred in the text (see p. 449). This
story may be true in itself; but the prominence which is given to it
certainly looks like an attempt to evade the fact of the submission of
Scotland itself. Fordun places the Cumbrian expedition after the Roman
pilgrimage, and that he places (iv. 40) in the eighth year of Conrad,
meaning seemingly 1032. The refusal of Duncan to do homage is thus
described; “Non enim hactenus Anglorum regi Cnutoni, quia regnum
invaserat, pro Cumbria Duncanus, quamquam iterum et iterum ab eo
submonitus, homagium fecerat, quia non inde sibi de jure, sed regibus
Angligenis fidem deberi rex rescripsit.” Cnut then marches against him;
that it was with the intention of incorporating Cumberland with the
English kingdom, of dealing with the dominions of the recusant as being,
in feudal language, a forfeited fief, I infer from the words “Cumbriam
suo subdendam dominio pedetentim advenit.” The terms on which peace was
finally made are thus described; “Ut regis [Scottorum sc.] nepos
Duncanus Cumbriæ dominio libere, sicut predecessorum aliquis liberius
tenuit, de cetero gaudeat in futurum, dum tamen ipse futurorumque regum
hæredes qui pro tempore fuerint regi Cnutoni ceterisque suis
successoribus Anglorum regibus fidem consuetam faciant.” There is
nothing unlikely in all this, except perhaps in the extreme loyalty
towards the house of Cerdic which is attributed to the Cumbrian
Under-king; but we must always remember the strong tendency of Scottish
writers to make too much rather than too little of the vassalage of
Cumberland to England.
III. We now come to the undoubted submission of Scotland to Cnut in
1031, as recorded in our own Chronicles. I do not understand Mr. Burton
(i. 368), when, after quoting Mr. Thorpe’s translation (ii. 128), which
is certainly made up confusedly from the Worcester and Peterborough
Chronicles, he says that “in only one of the four accepted versions of
the original is there anything resembling this.” The Abingdon Chronicle
is certainly silent, but Worcester and Peterborough both record the
submission, though in different words, and Canterbury follows
Peterborough. The Worcester entry runs thus; “Þa fór he [Cnut] to
Scotlande, and Scotta cyng eode him on hand and wearð his mann; ac he
þæt lytle hwile heold.” Peterborough says, “he [Cnut] for to Scotlande,
and Scotta cyng him to beah Mælcolm, and twegen oðre cyningas, Mælbæþe
and Iehmarc.” Mr. Robertson (i. 97, ii. 400) seems unable to identify
Jehmarc. Mr. Skene (Celtic Scotland, i. 397) makes him the same as
Imergi, from whom Somerled, who was killed in 1166, was fourth in
descent, and places him in Airergaidhel or Argyll, the old Scottish land
of Dalriada. His companion, “Mælbæþa,” “Mealbæaðe,” must be the same as
the “Macbeoðe” of the Worcester Chronicle in 1054, that is the Machabæus
of Fordun, the Macbeth of Shakespere. The words of the Worcester
Chronicler, “ac he þæt lytle hwile heold,” may refer to Malcolm’s death
soon after in 1033. Scotland soon fell into confusion, and before long
England also.
The submission recorded by our two Chroniclers is not to be doubted; but
I confess that I am not quite clear about the date. Both Chroniclers
pointedly connect the Scottish expedition with Cnut’s return from Rome
(“sona swa he ham com þa fór he to Scotlande,” Wig. “Þy ilcan geare he
for to Scotlande,” Petrib.); so it is possible that the true date may be
1027 or 1028 instead of 1031.
Lastly, there is the curious account of Rudulf Glaber (ii. 2) which I
have referred to in the text (see p. 450), and which comes in a passage
which I shall have to refer to again. In the year 996 a whale as big as
an island came out of the North towards Gaul and portended the troubles
which were to come upon Gaul and Britain. In Britain especially there
was frightful confusion; various Kings were striving and wasting the
land, till in the end one got the better of them all; “Viso ... Oceani
portento exorsus est bellicus tumultus in universali occidentali orbis
plaga, videlicet tam in regionibus Galliarum quam in transmarinis Oceani
insulis, Anglorum videlicet atque Brittonum necnon et Scotorum.
Siquidem, ut plerumque solet contingere, propter delicta infimi populi,
versi in dissensionem illorum reges ac cæteri principes, statimque
exardescentes in subjectæ plebis depopulationem scilicet usque dum
perducuntur ad suimet sanguinis effusionem. Quod videlicet tamdiu
patratum est in prædictis insulis, quousque unus regum earumdem vi solus
potiretur regiminis ceterarum.” This lucky King of course is Cnut, who
is conceived to be King of the West-Saxons. He seizes the kingdom of
Æthelred, who is conceived, it would seem, to be King of one of the
British islands called Denmark. “Denique mortuo rege Adalrado, in regno
scilicet illorum qui Danimarches cognominantur, qui etiam duxerat uxorem
sororem Ricardi Rotomagorum ducis, invasit regnum illius rex videlicet
Canuc Occidentalium Anglorum, qui etiam post crebra bellorum molimina ac
patriæ depopulationes, pactum cum Ricardo stabiliens ejusque germanam,
Adalradi videlicet uxorem, in matrimonium ducens, utriusque regni tenuit
monarchiam.” It might be refining too much to hint that this wonderful
turning about of the dominions of Cnut and Æthelred had anything to do
with the strangely reversed state of geographical parties in 1015–1016
(see p. 377). Then follows the account of the Scottish expedition, as
follows;
“Post hæc quoque idem Canuc cum plurimo exercitu egressus, ut subjugaret
sibi gentem Scotorum, quorum videlicet rex Melculo vocabatur, viribus et
armis validus et, quod potissimum erat, fide atque opere
Christianissimus. Ut autem cognovit quoniam Canuc audacter illius
quæreret invadere regnum, congregans omnem sui gentis exercitum,
potenter ei ne valeret restitit. Ac diu multumque talibus procaciter
Canuc inserviens jurgiis, ad postremum tantum prædicti Ricardi
Rotomagorum ducis ejusque sororis persuasionibus, pro Dei amore, omni
prorsus deposita feritate, mitis effectus, in pace deguit. Insuper etiam
et Scotorum regem amicitiæ gratia diligens, illiusque filium de sacro
baptismatis fonte excepit.” One does not quite see why either Emma or
Duke Richard or Rudolf Glaber should be seized with such a sudden fit of
interest in the affairs of Scotland. Still Rudolf’s account is less
wonderful than that of a contemporary German writer, Ekkehard the
historian of Saint Gallen, who boldly carries Cnut back into the tenth
century, and sends Otto the Great over into England to fight against him
(Pertz, ii. 119); “Ottone apud Anglos cum _Adaltage_, rege ipsorum,
socero suo, aliquamdiu agente, ut junctis viribus Chnutonem Danorum
debellaret regem.” Yet Ekkehard was born in 980 and died in 1036.
NOTE MMM. p. 454.
THE BATTLE AT THE HELGA.
This battle is not mentioned in the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles.
Peterborough, followed by Canterbury, places it in 1025. No enemies but
Swedes are spoken of, and their commanders are called Ulf and Eglaf.
“Þær comon ongean Ulf and Eglaf and swiðe mycel here, ægðer ge landhere
ge sciphere of Swaðeode.” Many of Cnut’s men, both Danish and English,
are killed, “and þa Sweon hæfdon weallstowe geweald.” As for the place
of the battle, Cnut is said to go “to Denmearcon mid scipon to þam Holme
æt ea þære halgan.” See Earle, Parallel Chronicles, p. 342; only I do
not understand how the “Helge-Aa” could be “then the boundary between
Sweden and the Danish possessions,” as the old frontier of Sweden and
Scania lies some way to the north of that river.
Ulf and Eglaf are doubtless the sons of Rognvald and Ingebiorg, of whom
Snorro speaks in the Saga of Saint Olaf, c. 95 (Laing, ii. 119). At any
rate the Ulf spoken of cannot be Ulf the son of Thorgils and brother of
Gytha (see above, Note FFF), nor can Eglaf be the Eglaf whom we have
already heard of (see p. 447). But both Snorro in c. 159 (Laing, ii.
246) and Saxo (194, 195) agree in making no mention of the sons of
Rognvald, and in making Cnut fight the battle against the two Kings Olaf
of Norway and Omund of Sweden. They also agree in bringing in Ulf the
son of Thorgils; only they bring him in in quite different characters.
Saxo makes him a traitor who has invited the combined Swedish and
Norwegian invasion, while Snorro makes him redeem former misdeeds by
saving Cnut when in great danger. In the Annales Islandorum (Langebek,
iii. 40) the date is given as 1027 and the death of Ulf Thorgilsson is
placed in the same year.
We can hardly be wrong in accepting the presence of Omund and Olaf on
the combined witness of all the Scandinavian writers. But the two Ulfs
and Eglaf are puzzling. It has sometimes struck me that “Ulf and Eglaf”
in our Chroniclers may be a mistake for “Ulf and Olaf,” taking of course
Saxo’s view of the conduct of Ulf Thorgilsson. The Peterborough writer
might very easily get wrong in his Ulfs, but he was hardly likely to
mistake Saint Olaf, whose history he knew very well, for a man of such
small renown as Eglaf Rognvaldsson.
It must not be forgotten that it is to this battle that William of
Malmesbury and other writers have, with an utter misconception of the
result of the battle, transferred Godwine’s exploit of 1019. See above,
p. 743. Henry of Huntingdon translates the Peterborough Chronicle.
Florence, following Abingdon and Worcester, is silent.
NOTE NNN. p. 455.
CNUT’S RELATIONS WITH THE EMPIRE.
Cnut, according to Saxo (196), was lord of six kingdoms; “sex
præpollentium regnorum possessor effectus.” But he does not give their
names. His commentator Stephanius (p. 212) says, “nempe Daniæ, Sveciæ,
Norvegiæ, Angliæ, Sclaviæ, Sembiæ” [Semba or Samland in Eastern
Prussia?]. The Encomiast (ii. 19) says, “Quum rex Cnuto solum imprimis
Danorum obtineret regimen, quinque regnorum, scilicet Danomarchiæ,
Angliæ, Britanniæ, Scotiæ, Nordwegæ, vendicato dominio, _Imperator_
exstitit.” Swegen Aggesson (c. 5; Lang. i. 54) outdoes them all. Cnut’s
empire extends over the adjoining realms (“circumjacentia regna suo
aggregavit _Imperio_”) from Thule to the Byzantine frontier (“ab ultima
Thyle usque ad Græcorum ferme Imperium”), taking in, seemingly, not five
or six, but ten kingdoms; “quippe Hyberniam, Angliam, Galliam, Italiam,
Longobardiam, Teotoniam, Norwagiam, Sclaviam, cum Sambia sibi
subjugavit.” Swegen clearly believes in three Empires, Greek, German,
and Scandinavian. His exaggerations may be compared with the
exaggerations of Dudo and Rudolf Glaber with regard to the Norman Dukes.
On the other hand, Prior Godfrey (Satirical Poets, ii. 148) allows Cnut
only three kingdoms, the three most obvious,
“Sic insigne caput trino diademate cingit,
Dum Danos, Anglos, Northigenasque regit.”
The Danish writers thus paint Cnut as at least the equal of Conrad; but
I am not quite sure that Wipo, in a passage already quoted (see p. 752),
where he describes Conrad at his Imperial coronation as walking between
the two Kings Cnut and Rudolf, has not a lurking wish to imply that Cnut
stood in much the same relation to Conrad that Rudolf did. And the
circumstances of the visit, the sight of Pope and Cæsar in all their
glory in the old home of both, would be very likely to impress the mind
of the still newly-converted lord of Northern Europe, and to make him
feel somewhat less Imperial than he felt either at Winchester or at
Roskild. But even in Wipo’s account there is nothing to make us think
that Cnut did more than yield to Conrad the formal precedence to which
he was certainly entitled, and above all at such a moment.
As to the marriage of Gunhild to King Henry there is no kind of doubt;
but the plain fact has been clouded over with many fables. That the
betrothal took place during the reign of Cnut I infer from the account
of Adam of Bremen (ii. 54), who after talking largely of Cnut,
Archbishop Unwan of Hamburg, and the Emperor Conrad, goes on to say;
“Cum rege Danorum sive Anglorum, mediante archiepiscopo [Unwan], fecit
pacem. Cujus etiam filiam Imperator filio suo deposcens uxorem, dedit ei
civitatem Sliaswig cum marcha quæ trans Egdoram est, in fœdus amicitiæ;
et ex eo tempore fuit regum Daniæ.” But there is no doubt that the
marriage was not celebrated till 1036, when Cnut was dead. See Wipo, c.
35, who calls the bride Cunehildis, and the Hildesheim Annals in anno
(Pertz, iii. 100), where we read that “regina Cunihild nomine ... in
natali Apostolorum regalem coronam accepit et mutato nomine in
benedictione Cunigund dicta est.” See also Hepidanni Annales in anno
(ap. Duchesne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt. iii. 479). William of Malmesbury
(ii. 188) is so far accurate as to place the marriage after Cnut’s
death, but he tells the story with great confusion. He grows specially
eloquent on the splendour of the bride’s progress, just as Roger of
Wendover (iv. 332 et seqq.) does over the marriage of Isabella, daughter
of John, with Frederick the Second; but William makes Harthacnut send
his sister from England, though Harthacnut certainly was not there in
1036, and he seems to place the marriage after the trial and acquittal
of Godwine in 1041. It was probably this confusion which led him to
speak of Henry as “Imperator Alemannorum,” for though Henry did not
become Emperor till 1046, yet his father died in 1039, leaving to Henry,
as Wipo (c. 39) says, “regni rem, Imperii autem spem, bene locatam.”
Wace also (Roman de Rou, 6552) tells us;
“Gunnil fu à Rome menée,
Et à Rome fu mariée;
Fame fu à l’Emperéor;
Ne pout aveir plus halt seignor.”
Besides that Henry was not yet Emperor, the marriage was (see the
Hildesheim Annals, u. s.) not celebrated at Rome but at Nimwegen.
Gunhild died July 18th, 1038, “quasi in limine vitæ,” as Wipo (c. 37)
says, before the death of Conrad. There is another inaccurate account of
the marriage in Heming’s Worcester Cartulary, 267 (Monasticon, i. 596),
where the bridegroom is described as “Imperator Cono” and Brihtheah,
Bishop of Worcester, appears as one of the bride’s suite; “Idem vero
episcopus Brihtegus quodam in tempore ad Saxoniam Gunnildæ, Cnuti regis
filiæ, ductor exstitit, quum eam Imperator Cono uxorem duceret, et
quemdam ministrum sibi valde carum, Hearlewinum nomine, socium itineris
secus habuit.” But the mistakes of all these writers seem pardonable
when we turn to the wonderful romance which some of the Scandinavian
writers have devised by rolling together the Roman pilgrimage of Cnut,
the marriage of Gunhild, and seemingly also the Italian expedition of
Conrad and Henry, which happened (see Wipo, c. 35) soon after Henry’s
marriage. Saxo (196) is comparatively brief. After the description of
Cnut as lord of six kingdoms, he tells us how he married Gunhild to
Henry and then went and restored the authority of his son-in-law over
certain rebels in Italy. “Canutus ... eximio sui fulgore etiam Romanum
illustravit Imperium. Enimvero ejus principi Henrico filiam Gunnildam
nuptum tradidit, eumdemque paullo post Italica consternatione perculsum
auxilio prosequutus, pristinæ fortunæ, pressa rebellium conspiratione,
restituit.” Swegen Aggesson (c. 5; Langebek, i. 54) is much fuller.
Henry, already Emperor, marries Gunhild; he is driven from Rome by a
sedition, and comes to crave help of his father-in-law (“quem quum
Romani tumultuaria seditione a regio pepulissent solio, socerum adiens
ejus auxilium imploravit”). Cnut, seemingly glad of the chance (“nactus
occasionem illustris ille præcluisque Kanutus”), sets out to avenge his
wrongs. On the road, seemingly by way of pastime, he ravages Gaul
(“assumpto exercitu suo, primo Galliam depopulando invasit”); he then
harries Lombardy and Italy, which, it will be remembered, Swegen had
already reckoned as separate kingdoms, and compels the Romans to receive
their Emperor back again (“multimoda virtute compulit Romanos civitatem
sibi resignare, tandemque Imperatorem et generum throno suo restituit”).
He then goes to France, which is seemingly looked on as something
different from Gaul; yet most certainly Latin and not Teutonic _Francia_
is intended, for Cnut goes to Tours (“cum ingenti tripudio ad Franciam
usque commeavit, Turonisque profectus,” &c.) and carries off thence
(“potenter secum asportavit”) the relics of Saint Martin, which he
translates to Rouen, on account of his great love for that city; “eo
quod illam [Rothomagum] præ ceteris specialem diligeret.” This wild talk
about Rouen must be compared with another equally wild tale which I
shall have to mention presently about Cnut dying before Rouen.
It is no wonder that Swegen’s editor says, “Mirum est Suenonem et in hoc
et in plurimis historiæ Canuti M. momentis adeo hallucinatum esse.”
Swegen wrote about 1186, in the days of Frederick Barbarossa and Henry
the Sixth, and it is worth noting how thoroughly both he and his elder
contemporary Wace look on the Roman Emperor as the local sovereign of
Rome, in opposition to William of Malmesbury’s slipshod talk about
“Imperator Alemannorum.”
About Gunhild, William of Malmesbury has a legend which is the same as
that of Sir Aldingar and Queen Eleanor in Percy’s Reliques. The King’s
name in both tales is Henry. Gunhild left a daughter, Beatrice, Abbess
of Quedlingburg (see Struvius, i. 355). The only English princess,
Matilda daughter of Henry the Second, who was the mother of an Emperor,
was not the wife of an Emperor or even of a King.
On the cession of Sleswick, Adam, as quoted in the text, seems quite
explicit. On the Eider as the boundary of the Carolingian Empire, see
the Annals of Einhard, 808, 811, 815, 828, and the Annals of Fulda
(Pertz, i. 355 et seqq.), 811, 857, 873. Nothing can be plainer than the
last passage, “fluvium nomine Egidoram, qui illos [Danos] et Saxones
dirimit.” In saying that it remained the boundary till 1866, I should
perhaps except the time of confusion, 1806–1814, when the Roman Empire
had been dissolved and when the German Confederation had not yet been
founded. During these years Holstein, the “Transalbiana Saxonia” of
Einhard, was united to the kingdom of Denmark by an act as regular as
any act of that irregular time.
NOTE OOO. p. 469.
ÆLFRED THE GIANT.
Ælfred is a name so purely English that the presumption in favour of the
English birth of any one bearing it in this generation is extremely
strong. There is no doubt that Ælfred is the name intended. The giant is
“Alvredus cognomento gigas” in William of Jumièges, and “Alvredus” is
the name by which he calls the English Ætheling Ælfred. In the Roman de
Rou he is “Auvere,” “Alverei,” “Alvere;” the Ætheling is “Auvered” and
“Alvred.” So in Mary of France (see Roquefort, ii. 34 and vol. iii. p.
572, iv. p. 796, v. p. 594) Ælfred appears as “Auvert,” “Auvres,”
“Alurez,” “Affrus.” The only chance against Ælfred being an Englishman
is the chance—a somewhat faint one, I think—that the name may also have
been in use among the Saxons of Bayeux. M. Pluquet (Roman de Rou, ii.
17) says that the name is still common in the district, seemingly under
the form of “Auvray.” But “Auvray” may be “Alberic;” and we shall find
that Ælfred and Eadward were just the two English names which we shall
find that a later generation of Normans did adopt.
I have a note, but I cannot lay my hand on the reference, of a charter
of Hugh Capet in 967 signed by “Alfredus monachus;” and “Alfridus abbas
Sancti Vulmari” signs in 1026 (Chron. Sithiense, p. 175) a charter of
Baldwin, Bishop of Terouanne. These two can hardly be the same man, but
both may be Englishmen. It is more singular to find the name in Italy.
Yet we read in Donizo’s Life of the Countess Matilda (Murat. v. 372),
“Ac Mons Alfredi capitur certamine freni.”
Was the mount called from any English pilgrim, the great King himself
perhaps, or did any cognate name exist among Goths or Lombards? The
elfish names are mainly English; yet Elberich is said to be the same as
Ælfric, and Alboin as Ælfwine. See Miss Yonge’s Christian Names, ii.
346, 347.
Our Ælfred signs two charters with the title of “vicecomes,” one in 1025
and one in 1027. He afterwards became a monk at Cerisy. Roman de Rou,
8717 et seqq. He seems (see Neustria Pia, 660) to have left a son
William and a daughter who bears the odd-sounding name of _Athselinoc_.
Can this be a corruption of any English name beginning with _æðel_?
NOTE PPP. p. 473.
CNUT’S RELATIONS WITH NORMANDY.
The Norman and English writers do not mention the marriage of Robert and
Estrith. It is asserted by Saxo, Adam of Bremen, and Rudolf Glaber. But
the two former tell the story with much confusion, making Estrith marry,
not Robert, but Richard. They both connect this marriage with Cnut’s own
marriage with Emma. Saxo’s words (p. 193) are; “Quum Anglorum rebus
obtentis nectendam cum finitimis amicitiam decrevisset, Normanniæ
præfecti [an odd title] _Roberti_ filiam Immam matrimonio duxit,
_ejusque fratri Rikardo_ sororem Estritham conjugio potiendam permisit.”
The utter confusion of Saxo’s ideas about the Norman Dukes is manifest.
Adam (ii. 52) says; “Chnud regnum Adalradi accepit uxoremque ejus Immam
nomine, quæ fuit soror comitis Nortmannorum Rikardi. Cui rex Danorum
suam dedit germanam Margaretam pro fœdere. Quam deinde Chnut, repudiatam
a comite, Wolf duci Angliæ dedit.... Et Rikardus quidem comes, declinans
iram Chnut, Jherosolimam profectus, ibidem obiit, relinquens filium in
Nortmannia nomine Rodbertum, cujus filius est iste Willelmus quem Franci
Bastardum vocant.” Here we get a little light. The marriages of Richard
the Good with Judith and Papia are well ascertained, and there is no
room left for a marriage with Estrith. But, as Lappenberg remarks (479.
Eng. Tr. ii. 217), Adam’s mention of the pilgrimage to Jerusalem shows
that Robert is the person really meant among all this confusion. Lastly,
Rudolf Glaber, a better authority on such a point than Saxo or even than
Adam, steps in to settle the matter. He describes (iv. 6. p. 47)
Robert’s pilgrimage to Jerusalem and his death without lawful issue,
“quamlibet sororem Anglorum regis Canuc manifestum est duxisse uxorem,
quam odiendo divortium fecerat.” This seems to put the fact of a
marriage between Robert and Estrith on firm ground. Among the Danish
annalists, the Esrom Annals (Lang. i. 236) simply copy Adam of Bremen;
those of Roskild (Lang. i. 377) tell the same tale in different words;
“Kanutus victor exsistens, ipsam Ymmam duxit uxorem, genuitque ex ea
filium Hartheknud. Kanutus Ricardo suam dedit sororem nomine Estrid. Quæ
ab illo repudiata duci Ulf _sine fratris consensu_ [cf. Saxo’s tale
quoted in p. 746] est conjuncta.” The name Margaret given by Adam to the
Danish princess is remarkable. Estrith might possibly, like Emma and
Eadgyth the daughter of Malcolm, have been required to take a Norman
name on her marriage. But the name of Margaret, which became popular
only through Eadgyth’s mother, is rare throughout the century, and this
would perhaps be the first instance of it in the West.
As for the date of the marriage, see Lappenberg, ii. 217, and Pertz’s
note to Adam, ii. 52. A dispute between Robert and Cnut which could be
connected, even mythically, with Cnut’s death and Robert’s pilgrimage
must be placed quite late in their reigns. And as the offender is always
looked on as the reigning Duke, 1028, or (if we take the reckoning of
Florence under 1026 and the Peterborough Chronicle under 1024) 1026, is
the earliest year to which the transaction can be referred. Ulf was
killed in 1025. William the Bastard was born in 1027 or 1028. As for
Estrith’s dowry, Saxo tells us that Cnut, before her marriage with Ulf,
“sororem Sialandiæ redditam regiarum partium functione donavit” (p.
194). After Ulf’s death, execution, or murder, “Canutus violatæ
necessitudinis injuriam, ac sororis viduitatem, duarum provinciarum
attributione pensavit” (p. 197). He adds that she gave them to the
Church of Roskild. The Roskild Annals (Lang. i. 377) makes her rebuild
the church with stone, it having before been of wood; “Honorifice
sepelivit, ecclesiamque lapideam in loco ligneæ construxit, quam multis
modis ditavit.”
I need hardly say that Cnut’s expedition to Normandy is quite mythical.
We have already seen (see above, p. 768) a legendary account of a
campaign of Cnut in Gaul, including a visit to Rouen, which seems to
have grown out of his Roman pilgrimage. The present legend seems further
to mingle up with this the pilgrimage of Robert to Jerusalem and the
beginning of the Norman exploits in Sicily and Apulia. Saxo, so far as
anything can be made out of his chronology, seems to make two Norman
expeditions on the part of Cnut. The first (p. 194) seems to be early in
his reign; “Rikardum, acerrimum uxoris osorem effectum, patria exegit.”
Afterwards (pp. 200, 201) we have the story of his great expedition and
death before Rouen. Richard is still Duke, but, for fear of Cnut, he
flees to Sicily; “Cujus [Canuti] impetum Richardus Siciliam petens, fuga
præcurrere maturavit.” The mention of Sicily is of course suggested by
the exploits of the Normans in those regions. Adam, as we have seen,
makes Richard flee to Jerusalem. His scholiast adds that the conquest of
Apulia was begun by forty of his comrades on their return. The source of
confusion is obvious.
This wild story of Cnut’s death before Rouen seems peculiar to Saxo.
Several of the other Danish writers distinctly assert his death in
England. Chron. Esrom. ap. Langebek, i. 236 (which makes him die in
1037); Chron. Rosk. i. 377. The attempt of Robert against England is
described by William of Jumièges (vi. 10, 11) and Wace (Roman de Rou,
7897 et seqq.). I have followed their account in the text. Only two
English writers mention it, William of Malmesbury (ii. 180) and John of
Wallingford (Gale, 549–550). William mentions only the intended
invasion, and says nothing of the embassies before and after it. John of
Wallingford tells the story much as William of Jumièges does, only, with
the usual confusion, he talks of Richard instead of Robert. But it is
plain from the two Williams that Robert was the Duke concerned, so that
John of Wallingford is clearly wrong when he places the story in the
first years of Cnut—“in primordiis regni sui.”
William of Jumièges (vi. 10) thus describes the message sent by Robert
to Cnut; “Mandavit Chunuto regi ut jamjamque satiatus eorum [the
Æthelings] exterminio illis parceret, et _sua eis vel sero_ pro sui
amoris obtentu redderet.” So John of Wallingford; “Venerunt legati a
Normannia ... qui cum Cnutone de regni jure disceptantes juvenibus
prædictis regnum postulabant.”
William of Jumièges, it should be mentioned, distinctly implies the
personal presence of Robert on board the fleet, but says nothing of that
of the Ætheling. Wace (7941) speaks of both Robert and Eadward.
NOTE QQQ. p. 480.
THE DIVISION OF CNUT’S DOMINIONS.
That Cnut, like Charles, established a system of under-kingdoms, to be
held by his sons in subordination to his own Imperial authority, is
distinctly asserted by Saxo (196). “Inde [from Rome, see p. 768]
reversus, Haraldum natu majorem Angliæ, Daniæ Canutum, Norvagiæ
Suenonem, quem ex Alvina sustulerat, absque ulla majestatis suæ
diminutione præfecit. Nam etsi tres provincias totidem filiorum regimini
tradidit, nihilominus commune sibi trium _imperium_ reservavit, neque
summam penes alium consistere voluit. Præterea teneris adhuc ducibus in
officiorum tutelam fortissimorum præsidia sociavit.” The Knytlinga Saga
(c. 17; Johnstone, 144) gives a similar account, only instead of
England, it makes Harold Under-king over part of Scotland (see above, p.
761); “Knutr konungr hafdi oc til forrada mikinn hlut af Skotlandi, oc
setti hann þar Haralld son sinn konung ysir: enn þo var Knutr konungr
ysir-konungr [overkonge] allra þeirra.” Now this statement that Cnut
established his sons as Under-kings under the guardianship of some of
his chief men falls in exactly with the statement in our own Chronicles
that Thurkill was established in Denmark as guardian to one of Cnut’s
sons (see p. 429). The words of the passage (1023) are, “And he betæhte
Þurcille Denemearcan and his sunu to healdenne;” but the details of this
arrangement, as described both in Saxo and in the saga, seem open to
much doubt. There is not a shadow of evidence that Harold ever reigned
as Under-king in England, and the statement that he reigned in Scotland,
though very remarkable, is hardly to be accepted without better
authority than that of the Knytlinga Saga. The further question arises,
who was the son whom Cnut left in Denmark? Not Harthacnut, who succeeded
him there, for that kingly bairn was with his mother in England (see
Chron. Wig. in anno). It must have been one of the two doubtful sons,
Swegen and Harold, whom it may have been convenient to remove from
England, together with their mother, “the other Ælfgifu.” She and
Swegen, it is well known, were afterwards quartered in Norway, and this
looks as if Harold were now, in the like sort, quartered in Denmark.
This would prove a change of purpose on Cnut’s part as to the succession
of his children, as it was Harthacnut who actually succeeded him in
Denmark.
On Swegen’s reign in Norway under the guardianship of his mother, see
Saxo, 196; Snorro, c. 252; Laing, ii. 344. I suspect that Saxo conceived
the three sons as having been Under-kings in the several kingdoms to
which they actually succeeded; but if it be true, as seems likely, that
Harold was first quartered as Under-king in Denmark and afterwards
displaced to make way for Harthacnut, the fact becomes of importance
with reference to the disputed election which followed his death.
As to the division on Cnut’s death there seems no doubt at all. The
account given by Adam (ii. 72) runs thus; “Post cujus mortem, _ut ipse
disposuit_, succedunt in regnum filii ejus, Haroldus in Angliam, Svein
in Nortmanniam, Hardechnut autem in Daniam.... Suein et Harold a
concubina geniti erant; qui, ut mos est barbaris, æquam tunc inter
liberos Chnut sortiti sunt partem hæreditatis.” This is copied by the
Esrom Chronicle, Lang. i. 237; cf. Chron. Rosk. p. 377; Chron. Erici, p.
159. As Harold actually succeeded in England, foreign writers seem to
have taken for granted that his succession was in accordance with Cnut’s
will; but it is evident that Cnut latterly intended England for
Harthacnut.
On the expulsion of Swegen and Ælfgifu from Norway, see Snorro, Saga of
Magnus, c. 4; Laing, ii. 363.
NOTE RRR. p. 482.
THE CANDIDATURE OF HAROLD AND HARTHACNUT.
I have gathered my account of this disputed election wholly from our own
Chronicles, which are the only trustworthy guides. The cause of all the
difficulties and contradictions with which the subject is involved, is
the fact that the division of the kingdom between Harold and Harthacnut
proved a mere ephemeral arrangement, and was set aside within two years.
It seems therefore to have quite passed out of mind, except with the
very few writers with whom minute accuracy was really an object. No one
would find out the fact from Adam of Bremen, from the Encomiast, or even
from William of Malmesbury. Of the Danish writers it is needless to
speak. The Encomiast (iii. 1 et seqq.) sees, so does William of
Malmesbury (ii. 188) still more plainly, that a strong opposition was
made to the election of Harold; they do not see that that opposition was
so far successful that a temporary sovereignty over a part of the
kingdom was secured to Harthacnut. Even Florence, seemingly hesitating,
as he sometimes does, between two versions of a story, tells the tale
with some confusion. But on comparing the Abingdon, Worcester, and
Peterborough Chronicles, the matter becomes much clearer. The
Peterborough Chronicle is the primary authority for the division of
parties in the Witenagemót, for the division of the kingdom between the
two competitors, for the regency of Emma and Godwine on behalf of
Harthacnut. Its statements are copied, with more or less of confusion
and misconception, by the Canterbury Chronicle, Florence, and William of
Malmesbury. The Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles do not distinctly
mention the division of the kingdom under the year 1035; but they imply
it under 1037, in the words, “Hér man geceas Harald ofer eall to cinge,
and forsoc Harðacnut,” which, unless Harthacnut had before possessed
part of the kingdom, would be meaningless. Oddly enough, the
Peterborough Chronicler does not distinctly mention this second election
of Harold, though he perhaps alludes to it in the words, “And he
[Harold] wæs þæh full cyng ofer eall Englaland.” Thus the two accounts
in the Chronicles fill up gaps in each other, and between the two we get
a full and consistent narrative.
I believe the controversy to have lain wholly between the two sons of
Cnut, Harold and Harthacnut. That there was a party in favour of one of
the sons of Æthelred (see p. 476) is asserted by William of Malmesbury
(ii. 188); “Angli diu obstiterunt, magis unum ex filiis Ethelredi, qui
in Normannia morabantur, vel Hardecnutum filium Cnutonis ex Emma, qui
tunc in Danemarchia erat, regem habere volentes.” But in the Chronicles,
where the proceedings in the Witenagemót are described, we hear nothing
of any voices being raised on the side of the Æthelings, and William
himself says (u. s.) of a time a little later; “Filii Ethelredi jam fere
omnibus despectui erant, magis propter paternæ socordiæ memoriam, quam
propter Danorum potentiam.” These last words are at least a witness to
the freedom of election on this occasion.
The geographical division of parties is clearly marked in the
Peterborough Chronicle, which is also the only one which notices the
share taken by London in the election. We now hear only of the
“liðsmen,” not, as in the election of 1016, of the “burhwaru.” The
proposal for a division I understand to come from Harold’s supporters,
most likely from Leofric, the natural mediator between the two extreme
parties. I do not see what else can be the meaning of the expression in
the Peterborough Chronicle that Leofric and others chose Harold _and
Harthacnut_ (“Leofric eorl and mæst ealle þa þegenas be norðan Temese
and þa liðsmen on Lunden gecuron Harold to healdes Englelandes; _him and
his broðer Hardacnute_, þe wæs on Denemearcon”). This proposal—namely
the division—Godwine and the West-Saxons resist (“and Godwine eorl and
ealle þa yldestan menn on West-Seaxon lagon ongean, swa hi lengost
mihton; ac hi ne mihton nan þing ongean wealcan”); that is, they claim
the whole kingdom for Harthacnut. At last they are obliged to consent to
the division and the regency (“and man gerædde þa þæt Ælfgifu
Hardacnutes modor sæte on Winceastre mid þæs cynges huscarlum hyra suna,
and heoldan ealle West-Seaxan him to handa; and Godwine eorl was heora
healdest man”). Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 758 B) translates this
account, but he was evidently puzzled by the words about electing Harold
_and Harthacnut_, as he says, “elegerunt Haraldum, ut conservaret regnum
fratri suo Hardecnut”—a most unlikely story. The last clause he
translates; “Consilium ergo inierunt quod Emma regina cum regis defuncti
familia [huscarlum?] conservaret Westsexe apud Wincestre in opus filii
sui, Godwinus vero consul dux eis esset in re militari.” Henry says
nothing of the second election of Harold in 1037. William of Malmesbury
(ii. 188), though telling the story in a most confused way, seems quite
to take in the position of Godwine; “Maximus tum justitiæ propugnator
fuit Godwinus comes, qui etiam pupillorum [his notion about the sons of
Æthelred, as well as Harthacnut, here comes in] se tutorem professus,
reginam Emmam et regias gazas custodiens, resistentes _umbone nominis
sui_ aliquamdiu dispulit; sed tandem, vi et numero impar, cessit
violentiæ.” Mr. St. John (Four Conquests, ii. 106, 107) makes Godwine
first assert the rights of the Æthelings, which I suppose is his
interpretation of the words of William, and then himself propose the
compromise in favour of Harthacnut. For this he refers us to Simeon; but
Simeon (X Scriptt. 179) only copies the narrative of Florence, and that
narrative, as well as that of the “Saxon Chronicle” [Abingdon as opposed
to Peterborough?], Mr. St. John had just before cast aside as “confusing
the whole subject.”
I see that the idea of the Imperial supremacy being reserved to Harold
has also occurred to Mr. St. John (ii. 110). It was suggested to me by
the words of the Peterborough Chronicle (evidently misunderstood by the
Canterbury Chronicler), “And he [Harold] wæs þæh full cyng ofer eall
Englaland.” This however, as I remarked just above, may perhaps refer to
Harold’s second election in 1037. The same idea might also lurk in the
other words of the Peterborough Chronicler, quoted in the last page,
“gecuron Harold to healdes ealles Englelandes; him and his broðer
Hardacnute,” &c. But an Imperial supremacy on the part of Harold seems
quite consistent with the general tenor of events, and such a
supposition may perhaps render the account of the fate of the Ætheling
Ælfred one degree less obscure.
The story of Æthelnoth’s refusal to crown Harold comes wholly from the
Encomium Emmæ, iii. 1. But it is possible that the tale, if true, may
belong to the second election of Harold in 1037, and may have been
thrust back in the confused chronology of the Encomiast. A coronation,
sooner or later, seems quite certain. It is asserted by Ralph de Diceto,
ii. 238, ed. Stubbs; “Haroldus filius Cnutonis regnavit annis iii.
consecratus ab Ethelnodo Dorobernensi archiepiscopo apud Lundonias.” So
Roger of Wendover (i. 473); “Prævaluit pars Haroldi, et regni Angliæ
illum diademate insignivit.” According to Bromton (X Scriptt. 932),
Harold was “ab Ethelnodo Dorobernensi archiepiscopo apud Lundonias
consecratus.” But the higher authority of the list of coronations in
Rishanger (427) places it at Oxford, which seems to have been Harold’s
capital. Believers in the false Ingulf may also entertain themselves
with a story about Harold’s coronation robe, and a great deal more about
which authentic history is silent. See St. John, ii. 107–110.
NOTE SSS. p. 489.
THE DEATH OF THE ÆTHELING ÆLFRED.
I have stated in the text the chief versions as to the death of Ælfred.
The different statements may be grouped under two main heads, those
which put the event at its right date under the reign of Harold, and
those which move it to some other time. It is the former class whose
statements we must weigh against other; the latter are useful mainly as
illustrating particular points, and as examples of the way in which
legends grow.
The earliest English account is that which is found, in different
shapes, in the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles. Peterborough is silent
about the whole matter. The story, except a few lines at the beginning,
takes the form of a ballad, as it appears in Mr. Earle’s Parallel
Chronicles. It is astonishing that Mr. Thorpe should have printed it as
plain prose, when it plainly is, not only, like the songs of Brunanburh
and Maldon, in rhythm, but actually in rime. This was seen long ago by
Dr. Ingram, who not only printed it as verse, but attempted a riming
version of his own in modern English. I have in the text analysed the
account thus given. The remarkable point is that the Abingdon Chronicle
distinctly accuses Godwine, while the Worcester version leaves out his
name. In the prose introduction, Ælfred the innocent (“unsceððiga”)
Ætheling lands and wishes to go to his mother, who sat at Winchester.
Then says Abingdon, “Ac hit him ne geþafode _Godwine eorl ne éc oþre
men_ þe mycel mihton wealdan: forþan hit hleoðrode þa, swiðe toward
Haraldes, þeh hit unriht wære.” But in Worcester it stands, “Ac þæt ne
geþafodon þa þe micel weoldon on þisan lande; forþan hit hleoþrade þa
swiðe to Harolde, þeah hit unriht wære.” So the beginning of the ballad
stands in Abingdon,
“Ac Godwine hine þa gelette,
And hine on hæft sette;”
while in the Worcester version it runs,
“Ða let he [Harold] hine on hæft settan.”
There can be no doubt that here the Abingdon version is the original,
and that the Worcester text, which destroys rhythm and rime, was altered
by an admirer of Godwine. But as to the prose introduction the case is
far less clear; the words “Godwine eorl ne éc oþre men” might just as
well be an interpolation. So in Florence the mention of Godwine comes in
very awkwardly; “Quod indigne graviterque ferebant potentes nonnulli,
quia, licet injustum esset, Haroldo multo devotiores exstitere quam
illis, _maxime, ut fertur, comes Godwinus_.”
Florence’s version is made up by modifying the account in the
Chronicles, with some touches from other quarters. He makes both
brothers come, changing the words “Ælfred se unsceððiga æþeling” into
“innocentes clitones Ælfredus et Eadwardus.” While in the Chronicles
Ælfred simply wishes to go to his mother (“wolde to his moder þe on
Wincestre sæt”), and is hindered by certain men, Godwine or others, in
this account both the Æthelings actually visit their mother (“ad suæ
matris colloquium, quæ morabatur Wintoniæ, venere”), and Godwine and the
other powerful men are simply displeased at their coming (“indigne
graviterque ferebant,” as above). Then comes the strangest part of his
statement; that Godwine seized and imprisoned Ælfred is simply
translated from the ballad, but Florence now introduces the almost
incomprehensible assertion that Ælfred, when he was seized, was going to
London for a conference with Harold; “Hic quidem [Godwinus] Ælfredum,
quum versus Lundoniam, ad regis Haroldi colloquium, ut mandarat,
properaret, retinuit, et arcta in custodia posuit [‘hine þa gelette and
hine on hæft sette’].” The companions of Ælfred, to the number of six
hundred, are sold, killed, or tortured at Guildford; the place is not
mentioned in the Chronicles. Emma then sends back her son Eadward, who
had stayed with her (“qui secum remansit”) and had not set out with his
brother, with all haste to Normandy. Then, at the bidding of Godwine and
certain others (“Godwini et quorumdam aliorum jussione”), Ælfred is
taken to Ely, and the rest of the story follows as in the ballad.
It is plain that Florence in writing this had one or both of the
Chronicles before him, and tried to work in details from other sources
which were really inconsistent with the account which the Chronicles
gave. One change is of special importance. The ballad simply mentions
the companions (“geferan”) of Ælfred without any account of their number
or who they were. Florence makes them six hundred, and adds the very
important statement that they were Norman knights or soldiers. The
Æthelings come, “multis Normannicis militibus secum assumptis, in
Angliam paucis transvecti navibus.” This touch clearly comes from the
Norman version, which represents the first attempt of the Æthelings as
an actual invasion, an idea which the Chronicles do not suggest. It is
also plainly from the same source that he got the idea that Eadward had
any share in the business.
The ballad in the two Chronicles has about it something of that
vagueness which is natural in a poem which is rather a pious lamentation
than a narrative. The Norman account, true or false, is at least fuller
and clearer. It first appears in William of Poitiers, the Conqueror’s
chaplain, the extant part of whose narrative begins at this point. He is
followed by William of Jumièges (vii. 8, 9), who is followed by Wace
(Roman de Rou, 9759 et seqq.). I have given the substance of their story
in the text, and I do not know that there is anything to remark, except
that at the end of his tale William of Poitiers turns round and reviles
Godwine in an address in the second person, much as at a later stage of
his narrative he reviles Harold.
We now come to the version of the Encomiast. He is a perplexing writer
to deal with; one knows not what to make of an historian who was either
so easily imposed upon or else so utterly reckless as to truth. A
contemporary writer who wipes out Emma’s marriage with Æthelred, who
looks on the Æthelings as sons of Cnut, who is ignorant that his heroine
was actually Queen-regent over Wessex, is really somewhat of a
curiosity. His astounding statement (ii. 18) that Eadward and Ælfred
were the sons of Cnut I have already spoken of in Note BBB. In his
present account (iii. 1) Emma remained in England after the death of
Cnut, grieving for the death of her husband and the absence of her sons
(“sollicita pro filiorum absentia”). He then goes on; “Namque unus
eorum, Hardecnuto scilicet, quem pater regem Danorum constituit, suo
morabatur in regno; duo vero alii in Normanniæ finibus ad nutriendum
traditi, cum propinquo suo degebant Rotberto.” These last are the sons
of whom one, Ælfred, the younger of the two (“Alfridus minor natu,” iii.
4), is the victim of the present story. It is plain therefore that the
“liberales filii” of Cnut, spoken of in the former passage, are meant to
be the same as the Æthelings. All three brothers being absent, “factum
est,” he goes on to say, “ut quidam Anglorum, pietatem regis sui jam
defuncti obliti, mallent regnum suum dedecorare quam ornare,
relinquentes nobiles filios insignis reginæ Emmæ, et eligentes sibi in
regem quemdam Haroldum,” &c., &c. (see above, p. 775). He then goes on
with Æthelnoth’s refusal to crown Harold (see above, p. 487), and with
Harold’s ungodly manner of life (see p. 504). Then comes the forged
letter and the rest of the story, as I have told it in the text. The
piece of detail most worthy of notice is the writer’s remarks (iii. 5)
on the _decimation_ of Ælfred’s companions (on the alleged decimation at
Canterbury in 1012, see above, p. 674);
“Traditi sunt carnificibus, quibus etiam jussum ut nemini parcerent nisi
quem sors decima offerret. Tunc tortores vinctos ordinatim sedere
fecerunt, satis supraque eis insultantes, illius interfectoris Thebææ
legionis exemplo usi sunt, qui decimavit primum innocentes multo his
mitius. Ille enim rex paganissimus Christianorum novem pepercit, occiso
decimo: at hi profanissimi falsissimique Christiani bonorum
Christianorum novem perimerunt, decimo dimisso.”
Now when a writer, whether through ignorance or through design, goes so
utterly wrong about the birth of his hero, about the position of his
heroine and the general condition of the kingdom, one hardly knows how
to accept anything that he tells us. Yet his account, if used with
caution, seems to supply some useful hints. His account is the only one
which, while consistent with Godwine’s innocence, explains the origin of
the belief as to his guilt. If we accept his account of what happened
between Godwine and Ælfred, the various statements become intelligible;
we see how the opposite stories could arise, which in any other way it
is hard to see. The tale of the forged letter has a very odd sound, and
the details may easily be mythical. Yet something of the kind would fill
up the gap in the Chronicles, in which Ælfred comes over to England
without any particular reason for his coming, better than William of
Poitiers’ wild tale of a Norman invasion, which is most likely a mere
repetition of the attempt of Robert.
The Encomiast seems to have had no notion that Emma was at Winchester,
but rather to have fancied that she was in London. Ælfred, before he has
landed, is recognized by his enemies, who wish to seize him (“volebant
eum adgredi,” iii. 4), but he escapes, lands elsewhere, and sets out to
go to his mother (“matrem parabat adire”). When he has got near to her
(“ubi jam erat proximus”), he is met by Godwine, who persuades him not
to go to London, and takes him to Guildford (“devians eum a Londonia,
induxit eum in villa Gildefordia nuncupata”). The mistake is remarkable,
for to quarter Emma in London instead of at Winchester implies utter
ignorance as to her real position. But it seems quite plain that the
Encomiast did not mean to identify Godwine either with the “adversarii”
of Ælfred whom he had mentioned just before, nor yet with the “complices
Haroldi infandissimi tyranni” (iii. 5), who are spoken of afterwards.
And he expressly shuts out the story of invasion and battle which
appears in William of Poitiers. The companions of Ælfred are indeed
called “commilitones” (iii. 4), but, when Baldwin offers him the help of
an armed force, he declines it (“cum marchione Balduino moratus, et ab
eo rogatus ut aliquam partem suæ militiæ secum duceret propter insidias
hostium”). This seems to forbid the notion of a force such as the Norman
writers speak of, a force which could dream of the conquest of England
or even of Wessex.
The only other independent witness is the strong partizan of Godwine,
the Biographer of Eadward (Vita Eadw. 401). He perhaps shows some wish
to slur the story over; but his account of the time between the death of
Cnut and the election of Eadward is throughout confused and meagre. He
brings in the story of Ælfred only incidentally, not in its
chronological place, but much later, when describing the attempts of the
Norman Archbishop Robert to sow dissensions between King Eadward and the
Earl. He merely says that Ælfred, incautiously entering the country with
some French companions, was seized and put to death by torture by order
of Harold, his comrades being killed, sold, and so forth. As Godwine was
still, under Harold as under Cnut, the chief counsellor of the King (“eo
quoque tempore, ut superius, regalium consiliorum erat bajalus.” See
above, p. 733), the slanderer Robert took occasion to affirm that the
deed was done by Godwine’s advice; but the Biographer strongly asserts
the Earl’s innocence.
These are the earliest accounts of the business, all of them written by
men who were alive at the time, and of whom the Encomiast of Emma
personally knew Cnut, while the Biographer of Eadward personally knew
Godwine. Their differences and contradictions are therefore the more
amazing; and their one point of agreement is more amazing still, namely,
that they all forget, as I said in the text, that Emma and Godwine were
ruling in Wessex in the name, not of Harold, but of Harthacnut. The
division of the kingdom, the regency of Emma and Godwine, are facts
which cannot be doubted; they are affirmed by two of the Chronicles and
they are implied by the other two (see above, p. 776). But in telling
the tale of Ælfred all this is forgotten. Even the Biographer of
Eadward, the formal apologist of Godwine, seems, in the very act of
defending him, to forget his real position. The Encomiast, whose version
is the most favourable to Godwine’s innocence, seems to know nothing of
any King but Harold; Godwine, if not Harold’s minister, is at least
Harold’s subject. On comparing all these writers, the question at once
arises, How far, when their main story involves so great a
misconception, can we trust any of their details? The inconsistency is
manifest; it seems to have been felt at the time. The ballad which
laments the fate of the Ætheling is found only in those Chronicles which
do not directly mention the division of the kingdom. And, even of these,
one inserts the ballad in a form which does not accuse Godwine. The
Peterborough Chronicler, who is so clear as to the division of the
kingdom, says nothing about the fate of the Ætheling. The Norman
writers, so eloquent about the fate of the Ætheling, know nothing of the
kingship of Harthacnut. Florence, who attempts to combine the two
stories, falls into all kinds of confusions and inconsistencies. It was
no doubt the feeling of this inconsistency, the feeling that the story,
as told, could not have happened at the time to which it is fixed, which
made later writers, from William of Malmesbury onwards, move it to
various other dates. William’s own account (ii. 188) is very remarkable.
He hardly believes the story, because it is not in the Chronicles, but
he tells it, because it was a common report; “Quia fama serit, non
omisi; sed _quia chronica tacet_, pro solido non asserui.” He therefore
had the Peterborough Chronicle before him. So just before; “Sane ne
silentio premam quod de primogenito [Ælfred was certainly the younger]
Ethelredi Elfredo _rumigeruli spargunt_.” The tale is placed by him in
1040, after the death of Harold and before the arrival of Harthacnut.
Sir Thomas Hardy, in his note, proposes to read “mortem Cnutonis” for
“mortem Haroldi,” but this is rather destroying evidence than explaining
it. Ælfred enters the kingdom; by the treachery of his countrymen,
chiefly of Godwine (“compatriotarum perfidia et maxime Godwini”), he is
blinded at Gillingham (probably a mistake for Guildford); thence he is
taken to Ely, where he soon dies. His companions are beheaded, save one
out of each ten, who are allowed to escape.
This date, if it rested on any authority, would be far more probable
than the other. Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 758 D) pushes on the story
yet a reign further. It is now placed after the death of Harthacnut in
1042. On that King’s death the English send for Ælfred, the elder of the
Æthelings, to succeed to the Crown. He comes, and brings with him a
great number of his mother’s kinsfolk and of other Normans. Now Godwine
(“quum esset consul fortissimus et proditor sævissimus”) has determined
that the new King shall marry his daughter. But he sees that Ælfred’s
high spirit (“quia primogenitus erat et magnæ probitatis”) will not
consent to this scheme, while he thinks that the milder spirit of
Eadward (“frater minor et simplicior”) will submit to the yoke. Godwine
then harangues the Witan (“intimavit igitur proceribus Angliæ”); Ælfred
has brought with him too many Normans; he has promised them lands in
England; it will not be safe to allow so valiant and so crafty a people
to take root in the land; the strangers must be punished lest other
strangers should venture to presume on their kindred with Kings to
meddle with Englishmen and English affairs (“ne alii post hæc audeant
pro regis cognatione se Anglis ingerere”). Ælfred’s Norman companions
are then decimated at Guildford, in the fashion above mentioned; but
even the tenth part seem to the English too many to be allowed to live
(“nimium visum est Anglis tot superesse”); so they are decimated again;
the Ætheling is blinded and sent to Ely, as before. Ralph the Black
(157) brings in his version incidentally. Under the reign of Harthacnut,
he says, “Edwardum fratrem suum a Normannis revocans, secum pacifice
aliquamdiu habuit. Nam alter frater, Alureclus scilicet, ad stipitem
ligatus a Godwino in Hely peremptus est, ter decimatis commilitonibus
apud Guldedune, port mortem Haroldi, antequam regnaret Hardecnutus,
_consilio Stigandi archiepiscopi_.” This last strange statement may be
taken in connexion with a scandal which charged Emma herself with a
partnership in the deed. (See p. 498 and Note SSS.) There is no need to
point out that Stigand was not Archbishop until long afterwards.
Bromton (X Scriptt. 934 et seqq.) gives several versions, but decides in
favour of one grounded on that of Henry of Huntingdon. He adds several
particulars, especially that the English nobles were so enraged against
Godwine that they vowed that he should die a worse death than Eadric the
betrayer of his _cyne-hlaford_ (“dominum suum naturalem regem”) Eadmund.
(It is a little remarkable that these words are used without any hint as
to the supposed kindred between Godwine and Eadric.) On this Godwine
flees to Denmark and remains there four years, his lands and goods being
meanwhile confiscated. But Bromton’s most remarkable version is one in
which the death of Ælfred, combined with an attempt to poison Eadward,
is attributed to the joint action of Godwine, Harthacnut, and Emma
herself. The same scandal turns up again in the Winchester Annals
(Luard, Ann. Mon. ii. 22) as part of the legend of Emma and the
ploughshares. So also in Bromton himself, X Scriptt. 942. But the
Winchester Annalist had just before (Ann. Mon. ii. 17) given his own
version. The tale is placed in the reign of Harthacnut. Godwine wishes
to open the succession to his own son Harold. He entices Ælfred
over—Duke Robert, notwithstanding his death and burial in the East,
keeps Eadward back in Normandy—and causes one tenth of his companions to
be beheaded, the rest to be tortured and crucified, and the Ætheling
himself to be embowelled. Godwine’s instructions to his agents are given
in two very graphic speeches. I trust that so pleasant a writer as
Richard of the Devizes is not answerable for this stuff. See Mr. Luard’s
Preface, p. xi.
Lastly, two charters ascribed to Eadward the Confessor, but of very
doubtful genuineness, speak of the murder of Ælfred in a way which ought
to be noticed. In the first (Cod. Dipl. iv. 173) Eadward is made to
attribute the death of his brother to Harold and Harthacnut conjointly,
and to speak of himself as being with difficulty rescued from them;
“Invadentibus regnum Swegeno et Cnuto filio regis [ejus?], regibus
Danorum, ac filiis ipsius Chnuti Haroldo et Hardechnuto, a quibus etiam
alter meus frater Ælfredus crudeliter occisus est, solusque, sicut Joas
occisionem Oðoliæ, sic ego illorum crudelitatem evasi.” In the other
(Cod. Dipl. iv. 181) the crime is attributed to the Danes generally;
“Dani qui ... fratrem meum alium Ælfredum miserabiliter interemptum
enecaverant.” Now, even if these charters be spurious, they still have a
certain value as witnessing to popular belief on the subject. Neither of
them mentions Godwine; had they done so, Godwine’s sons could hardly
have been represented as signing them. But the mention of the fact in
charters signed by them might imply that the subject was not one which
they at all sought to avoid. The second charter is perfectly vague; but
the language of the former, attributing the deed to Harold and
Harthacnut, is remarkable. That Harthacnut personally had no hand in it
needs no proof; neither was Eadward at any time in the least danger at
the hands of Harthacnut, who always acted towards him as an attached
brother. Is the charge against Harthacnut meant to convey an indirect
charge against the representative of Harthacnut, that is, against Emma
herself?
I have thus fairly put together, as far as I can, the evidence on this
most perplexing question. That Ælfred landed and was put to death by
order of Harold there can be no reasonable doubt. But one can hardly say
more, except that, of all the accounts of his coming, the least likely
is that which connects it with a Norman invasion under the command of
Eadward. The charge against Godwine implies a state of things which we
know not to have existed; on the other hand it is strange that his one
direct apologist should not have used so obvious an argument on his
behalf. In my whole history I know no more remarkable instance of
mistakes and contradictions on the part of writers who had every means
of being well informed.
NOTE TTT. p. 512.
THE BURIAL OF HAROLD THE FIRST.
The Peterborough Chronicle (1040) distinctly says that Harold died at
Oxford; “Her forðferde Harold cyng on Oxnaforda on XI. Kal. Apr. and he
wæs bebyrged æt Westmynstre.” Worcester and Abingdon say merely “Her
swealt Harold cyng,” without any mention of the place either of death or
of burial. Canterbury has, “Her forðferde Harold cing, and he wearð
bebyrged at Westmynstre.” Florence however says “obiit Lundoniæ.” That
the place of his death was Oxford can hardly be doubted, when we
remember the charter which I have quoted at pp. 505, 509. And the point
is of some importance in relation to the burial of Westminster, which
becomes still more remarkable in the case of a King who died so far off
as Oxford.
As for the disinterment of Harold’s body by order of Harthacnut, two
stories seem to have been afloat which Florence tried to put into one.
His words are;
“Mox ut regnare cœpit injuriarum, quas vel sibi vel suæ genitrici suus
antecessor fecerat rex Haroldus, qui frater suus putabatur, non immemor,
Ælfricum Eboracensem archiepiscopum, Godwinum comitem, Stir majorem
domus, Edricum dispensatorem, Thrond suum carnificem, et alios magnæ
dignitatis viros, Lundoniam misit, et ipsius Haroldi corpus effodere, et
in gronnam projicere jussit: quod quum projectum fuisset, id extrahere,
et in flumen Thamense mandavit projicere. Brevi autem post tempore a
quodam piscatore captum est, et ad Danos allatum sub festinatione, in
cœmeterio quod habuerunt Lundoniæ sepultum est ab ipsis cum honore.”
Here we find a mention both of a fen and of the river Thames as places
into which the body was successively thrown. If we look into other
accounts, we shall find one story speaking of the fen, and another of
the river. The Peterborough Chronicle is silent; the Abingdon and
Worcester speak of the fen; “He let dragan up þone deadan Harold; and
hine on fenn onsceotan.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 188) tells the story
like the second part of the story in Florence, except that he adds that
the body was beheaded, which Florence does not mention; also he does not
choose to mention any of the performers in the disinterment except
Ælfric. His account runs thus;
“Per Alfricum Eboracensem episcopum, et alios quos nominare piget,
Haroldi cadavere defosso, caput truncari, et miserando mortalibus
exemplo, in Tamesim projici jussit. Id a quodam piscatore exceptum
sagena, in cœmeterio Danorum Londoniæ tumulatur.”
The special mention of Ælfric is remarkable. It may be that the presence
of a prelate was needed to sanctify the insult to consecrated ground;
still Ælfweard would have been the more natural performer in his own
diocese. And William of Malmesbury elsewhere (De Gest. Pont. 250)
distinctly asserts that the deed was done by the special advice of
Ælfric; “Habetur [Ælfricus] in hoc detestabilis, quod Hardacnutus _ejus
consilio_ fratris sui Haroldi cadavere defosso caput truncari, et infami
mortalibus exemplo in Tamensem projici jussit.”
The burying-place of the Danes seems to be first mentioned by William of
Malmesbury. Ralph de Diceto (i. 186 ed. Stubbs) marks it as the same as
the church of Saint Clement Danes; “Brevi autem post a quodam piscatore
ad Danos allatum est, et in cœmeterio quod habuerunt Lundoniæ sepultum
est apud sanctum Clementem.” He is followed by Bromton (933), who
however only speaks of the church of Saint Clement without any special
mention of Danes.
Florence’s list of the dignitaries employed in this matter is followed
by most of the later writers. Roger of Wendover calls them “milites et
carnifices.” On the relation of the great Earls to the officers of the
King’s household, see above, p. 89. The mention of the “major domus” and
the seemingly dignified position of “Thrond carnifex” (cf. Jeremiah lii.
12) should be specially noticed.
It is really worth while to transcribe the narrative of M. de Bonnechose
(ii. 61); it is so amusingly coloured; “Le corps d’Harold, son frère,
fut déterré par ses ordres, décapité, jeté dans un marais, puis dans la
Tamise, et il exigea que le comte Godwin, principal ministre des
volontés d’Harold, fût un des instruments de la vengeance exercée sur
son cadavre et sur une population rebelle, Godwin cependant ne trouva
pas, dans son empressement à obéir, une sûreté suffisante; la clameur
publique s’élevait contre lui, et le désignait comme l’assassin
d’Alfred, frère utérin du nouveau roi; l’archevêque d’Yorck se porta son
accusateur devant Hardi-Canut.”
NOTE VVV. p. 516.
THE TRIAL AND ACQUITTAL OF GODWINE.
A point to be specially noticed in this trial is the form of words which
Florence, the only primary authority who records any form, puts into the
mouth of Godwine and his compurgators. They swear that it was not by
Godwine’s will or counsel that the Ætheling Ælfred was blinded, and
that, whatever Godwine did in the matter, he did at the bidding of his
lord King Harold (“Non sui consilii nec suæ voluntatis fuisse quod
frater ejus cæcatus fuisset, sed dominum suum regem Haroldum illum
facere quod fecit jussisse”). This is clearly an abridged, and it is
most likely an inaccurate, report of the oath really taken. It is
clearly abridged, because, when Godwine by implication confessed to have
done something, he could not fail to explain more at large what it was
that he confessed himself to have done. But such a form of words is
consistent with the view that Godwine met Ælfred, or even that he
arrested Ælfred, within his own earldom, but that he had no hand in the
barbarous cruelties which followed in a place out of his jurisdiction.
But the mention of Harold as Godwine’s lord again steps in to throw
doubt on the whole formula. The only character in which Harold could be
called Godwine’s lord was that of superior lord of all Britain, in which
character he was the lord rather of Harthacnut than of Godwine. Still,
whatever doubts the formula may be open to, it has its worth. It points
to the general likelihood that Godwine may have had a share in the
events which led to the death of Ælfred, and yet not a guilty share.
William of Malmesbury (ii. 188), though he mentions the oath, does not
give any form of words. Roger of Wendover (i. 478), seemingly following
Florence, leaves out the clause in which Godwine says that he had acted
by order of Harold; “Juravit quod neque ingenio suo nec voluntate frater
ejus fuerat interemptus et oculis privatus.” This is remarkable, as
Roger (i. 474) asserts the complicity of Godwine with Harold’s doings
perhaps more strongly than any other writer. The clause appears again in
the writer called Matthew of Westminster, p. 400.
I cannot resist giving some account of the grotesque legend into which
the compurgation of Godwine has grown under the hands of the so-called
Bromton (X Script. 937, 8). It is transferred to the reign of Eadward.
Godwine, it will be remembered (see above, p. 786), is, at his
accession, in Denmark. Meanwhile Eadward comes over to England, he is
crowned, and reigns justly and mercifully. Godwine, hearing of his
justice and mercy, ventures to hope that the latter princely virtue may
be extended to himself, and supplicates that he may be allowed to come
over and plead his cause. This he does in a “Parliament,” where the King
with his Earls and Barons talk a large amount of Norman law. Earl
Leofric at last cuts the knot; It is clear that Godwine is guilty; but
then he is the best born man in the land after the King
himself—therefore it may be presumed, neither the son of Wulfnoth the
herdsman nor yet the kinsman of the upstart Ealdorman Eadric—so he and
his sons, and I and eleven other nobles his kinsmen, will bring the King
as much gold and silver as we each can carry, and the King shall forgive
Earl Godwine and give him his lands back again. To this singular way of
observing his coronation oath to do justice the saintly monarch makes no
objection; Earl Godwine takes his lands, and King Eadward takes the
broad pieces. Perhaps they were the very pieces over which he afterwards
saw the devil dancing.
NOTE WWW. p. 520.
THE ORIGIN OF EARL SIWARD.
All that I can say of Siward (Sigeweard) is that he was most likely a
Danish follower of Cnut. A Siward, seemingly the same, signs as
“minister” in 1019 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 9) and 1032 (iv. 39). His name is
also attached to a doubtful charter of Archbishop Æthelnoth (iv. 53) as
“miles.”
The mythical history of Siward will be found in Langebek, iii. 288, also
in the Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, ii. 104. The pedigree there given
runs thus; “Tradunt relationes antiquorum quod vir quidam nobilis, quem
Dominus permisit, contra solitum ordinem humanæ propaginis, ex quodam
albo urso patre, muliere generosa matre, procreari, Ursus genuit
Spratlingum, Spratlingus _Ulsium_, Ulsius Beorn, cognomento Beresune,
hoc est _filius ursi_.” Beorn is Siward’s father. _Ulsius_ should of
course be _Ulfius_, and the pedigree of course comes from Florence (see
p. 423) or from the source from which Florence drew his pedigree of Ulf.
But there is something especially grotesque in making Siward a son of
Biorn Ulfsson, who was killed by Swegen the son of Godwine in 1049. The
bear who was the ancestor of Siward and Ulf had also, it would seem,
known ursine descendants; at least so I understand the legend of
Hereward, Chroniques Angl.-Norm. ii. 7. Hereward there kills a bear,
“quem incliti ursi Norweye fuisse filium ... affirmabant ... cujus
igitur pater in silvis fertur puellam rapuisse, et ex ea Biernum regem
Norweye genuisse.” Siward, in the story, after slaying dragons and other
such exploits in Orkney and Northumberland, comes to London in the reign
of Eadward; he then, under very odd circumstances, kills one Tostig,
Earl of Huntingdon, and gets his earldom. The church of Saint Clement
Danes (see above, p. 789) was built, we are told, to commemorate the
slain followers of Tostig. This Tostig, it seems, was a Dane, who was in
disfavour with King Eadward for a curious reason; “Rex eumdem habuit
odio, quia duxerat in uxorem filiam comitis Godwini, sororem reginæ.”
Afterwards, when an invasion from Norway was threatening (1045?), Siward
was made Earl over Northumberland, _Cumberland_, and Westmoreland. The
same story is found in Bromton, 945, only there “Bernus,” father of
Siward, is himself son of the bear. Such stuff would be hardly worth
mentioning, had not Sir Francis Palgrave (Engl. Comm. ii. ccxcvii.)
inferred from it the existence of an historical Tostig, Earl of
Huntingdon. See above, p. 667. It is, I think, plain that the Tostig of
this story (who is, not indeed brother, but brother-in-law of Eadward’s
wife Eadgyth) is meant for the son of Godwine, and that the slaying of
Eadwulf by Siward has got confounded with the career of Tostig in
Northumberland and his expulsion from the earldom. The one bit of
history which lurks in all this seems to be the fact of the union of the
earldoms of Northumberland and Huntingdon in the person of Siward. See
vol. ii. Note G.
NOTE XXX. p. 528.
TOFIG THE PROUD.
A certain amount of interest cannot fail to attach to Tofig as Harold’s
forerunner in the foundation of Waltham. Of the Waltham history, “De
Inventione Sanctæ Crucis,” I shall speak more at large when I come to
Harold’s time (see vol. ii. Appendix RR). All that is known of Tofig is
collected by Professor Stubbs in his edition of that tract. Nothing but
local partiality could describe him as “Tovi le Prude, qui totius Angliæ
post regem primus, _stallere_, vexillifer regis, monarchiam gubernabat.”
(c. 7; cf. c. 14.) Professor Stubbs does not seem quite clear as to his
being Staller, but he certainly was an important person. He appears in
Florence as “Danicus et præpotens vir Tovius, Pruda cognomento.” He
signs many charters of Cnut, one of them in 1033 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 44)
distinctly as “Tovi Pruda.” He appears also with the same surname in
Cod. Dipl. iv. 54, where he is sent by Cnut on a special mission into
Herefordshire to attend a Scirgemót held by Bishop Æthelstan and Earl
Ranig (see p. 520), the account of which, though not illustrating the
life or character of Tofig, gives us one of the most living pictures of
Old-English jurisprudence. Tofig’s surname was needed to distinguish him
from two namesakes, “Tovi hwita” and “Tovi reada,” who sign in 1024.
Cod. Dipl. iv. 31. “Tofig minister,” who signs under Eadward in 1054
(Cod. Dipl. iv. 135), and who was Sheriff of Somerset between 1061 and
1066 (see Cod. Dipl. iv. 171, 197, 199), must, if the Waltham narrative
be at all accurate, be a different man.
In the name of Tofig’s son Æthelstan, as in that of Ranig’s son Eadwine
(see p. 520), we see an instance of the tendency among the Danish
settlers under Cnut to identify themselves with England and to give
their children English names.
Tofig must have died soon after his marriage with Gytha (see De Inv. 14;
“Tandem consummatus in brevi expleverat tempora multa, cui successit
filius ejus Adelstanus”). There is, as Professor Stubbs (pp. 1, 13)
remarks, some difficulty in reconciling the chronology of the Waltham
writer with regard to the Invention of the Cross with the undoubted date
of Tofig’s marriage. The Waltham writer places the Invention in the time
of Cnut (“regnante Cnuto et Anglis _imperante_”), that is to say seven
years at the least before the time of the marriage, whereas Gytha is
represented in c. 13 as already Tofig’s wife and as a benefactress to
the church. As Harthacnut died at the wedding, we cannot even suppose,
what would otherwise be just possible, that by “Cnutus” we are to
understand Harthacnut. The easiest explanation seems to be that gifts
made by Gytha in her widowhood have been wrongly transferred to an
earlier date. I have elsewhere (see vol. ii. Appendix MM) thrown out a
hint that this Gytha may possibly be the same as Gytha the wife of Earl
Ralph of Hereford.
NOTE YYY. p. 530.
EVENTS AFTER THE DEATH OF HARTHACNUT.
The legend to which I have referred in the text has found a place in the
text of Thierry (i. 179) and also in that of Mr. St. John (Four
Conquests, ii. 127). According to Bromton (934) and Knighton (2326), the
English, wearied with the oppressions of the Danes under Harthacnut (see
above, p. 758), rose against them after his death, and drove them out by
force. Knighton calls the leader of the revolt Howne, and his forces
_Howneher_ [Hunanhere]. Thierry makes Godwine the leader instead of
Howne. M. de Bonnechose (Quatre Conquêtes, ii. 70–2), though seeing the
general absurdity of the story, admits it so far as to accept an
expulsion of the housecarls. Saxo (202, 203) has a more wonderful tale
than all. He has nothing to say about Howne or about Godwine. Harold,
the son of Godwine, is the deliverer (“Danicæ oppressionis simulque
domesticæ libertatis auctor”). He causes the Danish forces throughout
England to be invited to banquets in different places, so that they are
all slain in one night. Of all this there is not a word in any
trustworthy writer; the only passage which looks at all like it is a
rhetorical expression in the Life of Eadward (“reducto diu afflictis
Anglis barbarica servitute redemptionis suæ jubilæo”, p. 394), which
however most likely refers only to the extinction of the foreign dynasty
and the accession of a native King. Any one who has had any experience
of the growth of mythical and romantic tales will soon see what is the
origin of this legend. It is plainly nothing in the world but the
massacre of Saint Brice moved still further out of its place than it had
already been moved by Roger of Wendover (see above, p. 652), and further
mixed up with the legend of the death of Ælfred, with which it is
connected by both Bromton and Knighton. Knighton’s “Howne” is clearly
Roger’s “Huna” over again. Everything in our authentic narrative makes
us believe that the election of Eadward was perfectly peaceful. A
general driving out or massacre of Danes is simply ridiculous; even an
expulsion of the housecarls is supported by no kind of evidence. The
housecarls of Harthacnut no doubt became the housecarls of Eadward, and
the saintly King, if Godwine had not been at hand to restrain him, was
as ready to send them against Dover as his half-brother had been to send
them against Worcester.
A more marvellous version than all is to be found in the French Life of
Eadward, 532–581 (Luard, pp. 40, 41). Here the Danes, after committing
the usual atrocities, rebel against _Harthacnut_, who raises an English
army against them, and, after much fighting, overcomes them. Such wild
shapes did our history take when it fell into the hands of strangers.
END OF VOLUME THE FIRST.
-----
Footnote 1:
On this subject I must refer, once for all, to the papers of Dr. Guest
in the Archæological Journal and in the volumes of Transactions of the
Archæological Institute, especially to the paper on the Early English
Settlements in South Britain in the Salisbury Volume. On these
questions I have little to do except to profess myself, in all
essential points, an unreserved follower of that illustrious scholar.
On the difference between _historical_, _traditional_, _mythical_, and
_romantic_ narratives see Historical Essays, 1st Series, p. 3.
Footnote 2:
It is really hardly worth while to dispute about the _names_ of
Hengest and Horsa. The evidence for their historical character seems
to me at least as strong as the suspicion of their mythical character.
But whether the chiefs who led the first Jutish settlers in Kent bore
these names or any others does not affect the reality of the Jutish
settlement. I must confess however that there are names in the
Chronicles which strike me as far more suspicious than those of
Hengest and Horsa. I mean names like Port and Wihtgar, who figure in
the entries for 501 and 544. See Earle’s Parallel Chronicles, p. ix.
Footnote 3:
For all that is to be said on this side of the question, see the
eleventh Chapter of Palgrave’s English Commonwealth and the first
chapter of Kemble’s Saxons in England. On the other side see Dr.
Guest’s paper in the Salisbury Volume.
Footnote 4:
See Guest, Salisbury Volume, p. 35.
Footnote 5:
The account in Ammianus (xxxvii. 8) of the exploits of the elder
Theodosius does not speak of the Saxons or of any other Teutons as
invaders of Britain, but only as invaders of Gaul. But there seems
quite evidence enough to show that, at the end of the fourth and
beginning of the fifth centuries, Britain was constantly ravaged by
Saxon pirates. This is shown by the well-known phrases of _Limes
Saxonicus_ and _Littus Saxonicum_, for the true explanation of which I
must again refer to Dr. Guest. The Saxon shore or march, like the
Welsh march in England, like the Spanish, Slavonic, and other marches
of the later Empire, was, not a district occupied by Saxons, but the
march—in this case a _shore_—lying near to the Saxons and exposed to
their ravages. Ammianus himself, in the passage just referred to,
speaks of “Nectaridus comes maritimi tractus” as killed by the Picts
at this time. The phrase is analogous to that of “Scythici limitis
dux,” etc. in Vopiscus, Aurelian, 13. Claudian also constantly couples
the Saxons with the Picts and Scots as among the invaders of Roman
Britain who were repulsed by Theodosius and Stilicho;
... “Maduerunt Saxone fuso
Orcades: incaluit Pictorum sanguine Thule:
Scotorum cumulos flevit glacialis Ierne.”
Carm. viii. 31. Cf. xviii. 392; xxii. 255.
So Sidonius Apollinaris, Carm. vii. 370 (cf. Epp. viii. 6);
“Quin et Aremoricus piratam Saxona tractus
Sperabat, cui pelle salum sulcare Britannum
Ludus, et asserto glaucum mare findere lembo.”
Were our keels coracles, or was the British fashion transferred to the
Saxon?
Footnote 6:
Yet even this view seems to be pretty well disposed of by Dr. Guest in
his Salisbury paper.
Footnote 7:
I use the word “Saxon” throughout only in its correct sense, to
express one only among several Teutonic tribes which settled in
Britain. The name “Saxon” was never used by the people themselves to
express the whole nation, which was called, sometimes “Anglo-Saxon,”
but, far more commonly, simply “Angle” or “English.” I shall discuss
this point more at length in the Appendix, Note A.
Footnote 8:
I use, as a technical term, this correct and old-fashioned description
of the class of languages to which our own belongs. The English
language is simply Low-Dutch, with a very small Welsh, and a very
large Romance, infusion into its vocabulary. The Low-Dutch of the
continent, so closely cognate with our own tongue, is the natural
speech of the whole region from Flanders to Holstein, and it has been
carried by conquest over a large region, originally Slavonic, to the
further east. But, hemmed in by Romance, High-Dutch, and Danish, it is
giving way at all points, and it is only in Holland that it survives
as a literary language. It should always be borne in mind that our
affinity in blood and language is in the first degree with the
Low-Dutch, in the second degree with the Danish. With the High-Dutch,
the German of modern literature, we have no direct connexion at all.
Footnote 9:
The proper Scots, as no one denies, were a Gaelic colony from Ireland,
the original Scotia. The only question is as to the Picts or
Caledonians. Were they another Gaelic tribe, the vestige of a Gaelic
occupation of the island earlier than the British occupation, or were
they simply Britons who had never been brought under the Roman
dominion? The geographical aspect of the case favours the former
belief, but the weight of philological evidence seems to be on the
side of the latter. But the question is one which, as far as purely
English history is concerned, may safely be left undetermined.
Footnote 10:
It seems certain that the English seldom occupied a Roman or British
town at once. The towns were commonly forsaken for a while, though
they were in many cases resettled by an English population. The only
question is whether any of the towns preserved a sort of half
independence after the conquest of the surrounding country. See
Comparative Politics, 130, 422.
Footnote 11:
In Northern Gaul the name of the tribe is commonly preserved in the
modern name of its chief town, the original name of the town itself
being dropped. Thus Lutetia Parisiorum has become Paris. But in
Aquitaine and Provence the cities commonly retain their original
names, as Burdigala and Tolosa, now Bourdeaux and Toulouse.
Footnote 12:
Words like _street_ and _chester_; this class is excessively small.
See Max Müller, Science of Language, Second Series, p. 269.
Footnote 13:
Words like _Mass_, _Priest_, _Bishop_, _Angel_, _Candle_.
Footnote 14:
See Comparative Politics, 420.
Footnote 15:
I mean the extirpation of anything worthy to be called a nation, of
any people who had reached the position which all the inhabitants of
the Roman Empire had reached. The dying out of savage tribes before
the arts and arms of highly civilized Europeans is another matter.
Footnote 16:
Yet the legend of Hengest’s daughter, as told by Nennius—her name
Rowena is a later absurdity—absolutely worthless as a piece of
personal history, seems to point to the fact that the invaders not
uncommonly brought their women with them.
Footnote 17:
Prokopios, Bell. Goth. iv. 20. Βριττίαν δὲ τὴν νῆσον ἔθνη τρία
πολυανθρωπότατα ἔχουσι, βασιλεύς τε εἷς αὐτῶν ἑκάστῳ ἐφέστηκεν·
ὀνόματα δὲ κεῖται τοῖς ἔθνεσι τούτοις Ἄγγιλοί τε καὶ Φρίσσονες καὶ τῇ
νήσῳ ὁμώνυμοι Βρίττωνες. Prokopios’ account of Britain is mixed up
with a great deal of fable, but here at least is something clear and
explicit.
Footnote 18:
See the Chronicles under the years 443 and 449, and compare 473, where
Hengest and his Jutes are again called “Engle.”
Footnote 19:
It is necessary to make this limitation, because the Danish Kings, as
well as Harold the son of Godwine and William the Conqueror, were none
of them of the West-Saxon house. But all our earlier Kings were
descended from Cerdic in the male line and all our later Kings in the
female line.
Footnote 20:
I have given the boundaries somewhat roughly, as they do not always
exactly answer to those of the present counties. For details I must
refer to Dr. Guest’s paper already quoted, and to his two later papers
in the Archæological Journal, vol. xvi. p. 105, and vol. xix. p. 193.
Footnote 21:
Yet some of the passages collected by Sir Francis Palgrave (English
Commonwealth, i. 462) would seem to show that parties of independent
Welshmen held out in the fen country till a very late date.
Footnote 22:
On the quasi-insular character of East-Anglia, see Dr. Stanley’s paper
in the Norwich volume of the Proceedings of the Archæological
Institute, p. 58.
Footnote 23:
The Chronicles, under the year 547, record the accession of Ida, and
speak of him as the ancestor of the following line of Northumbrian
Kings. But we are not told, as in the cases of Hengest, Ælle, and
Cerdic, anything about his landing, and the phrase “Ida feng to rice”
(cf. 519) implies that this was not the beginning of the settlement. I
therefore cannot help suspecting that there is some truth in the
legend preserved by Nennius (38), according to which settlers of the
kindred of Hengest occupied Northumberland in the preceding century.
William of Malmesbury (i. 7) follows the same account, with additional
details, but he distinctly adds that no English chief in those parts
took the title of King before Ida. See Comparative Politics, 419.
Footnote 24:
The date of Offa is given by Henry of Huntingdon (Mon. Hist. Brit. 714
A). But he had before (M. H. B. 712 A) said, speaking of the days of
Cerdic, “Eâ tempestate venerunt multi et sæpe de Germaniâ, et
occupaverunt East-Angle et Merce: sed necdum sub uno rege redacta
erant. Plures autem proceres certatim regiones occupabant.” This marks
the transition from Ealdormanship to Kingship, of which I shall speak
in my next Chapter.
Footnote 25:
Crida or Creoda is mentioned in the Chronicles (593), but he is not
said to have been the first King of the Mercians. That he was so is a
conjecture of Henry of Huntingdon, M. H. B. 714 C.
Footnote 26:
Chronicles, 626. Cf. 654.
Footnote 27:
On the list of Bretwaldas and its historic value, see Appendix B.
Footnote 28:
Bæda, Hist. Eccl. i. 25, 26.
Footnote 29:
See Appendix C.
Footnote 30:
Prokop. Bell. Goth. iv. 20. οὐ πολλῷ πρότερον ὁ Φράγγων βασιλεὺς ἐπὶ
πρεσβείᾳ τῶν οἱ ἐπιτηδείων τινὰς παρὰ βασιλέα Ἰουστινιανὸν ἐς
Βυζάντιον στείλας ἄνδρας αὐτοῖς ἐκ τῶν Ἀγγίλων ξυνέπεμψε,
φιλοτιμούμενος ὡς καὶ ἡ νῆσος ἥδε πρὸς αὐτοῦ ἄρχεται.
Footnote 31:
The Goths in the fourth century were the first Teutonic nation to
embrace Christianity, but they were still a wandering tribe, while the
conversion of England was a distinct territorial conquest. Armenia
again, at the other end of the Roman world, was a territorial conquest
more ancient than that of England; but Armenia lay far more open to
Imperial influences than England did.
Footnote 32:
See above, p. 25.
Footnote 33:
See the Laws of Ine, 23, 24, 32, 33, 46, 54, 74. (Thorpe, Laws and
Institutes, i. 119–149; Schmid, pp. 30–55.) In the time of Ælfred the
distinction, at least within the strictly English territory, seems to
have died out.
Footnote 34:
Bæda, i. 34; Chron. 603, 605. The latter year is the date of his
victory over the Welsh near Chester and the famous massacre of the
monks of Bangor.
Footnote 35:
Bæda, ii. 5. See Appendix B.
Footnote 36:
See above, p. 27.
Footnote 37:
Chron. 628. “Her Cynegils and Cwichelm gefuhtan wið Pendan æt
Cirenceastre and geþingodon þa.” This I take to mean a cession of
territory, most probably of the north-western conquests of Ceawlin.
Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire must have been kept longer, as appears
from the position of Dorchester as originally a West-Saxon bishopric.
Footnote 38:
See Appendix B.
Footnote 39:
See Appendix D.
Footnote 40:
See Appendix D.
Footnote 41:
For the chronology between the years 752–849 I follow the Northumbrian
reckoning preserved by Simon of Durham. See Stubbs, Roger of Hoveden,
i. pp. xci, et seqq.
Footnote 42:
Ecgberht’s titles commonly run, “Rex,” “Regali fretus dignitate,”
“Occidentalium Saxonum rex,” once, in 820, “Rex Occidentalium Saxonum
necnon et Cantuariorum” (Kemble, Cod. Dipl. i. 289), but in one
charter of 828 (Cod. Dipl. i. 287) he appears as “Ecgberhtus gratiâ
Dei REX ANGLORUM.” In that year he had granted out Mercia to an
Under-king and had reduced all the Welsh to submission.
Footnote 43:
One can hardly describe these relations between the different states
without using such words as “homage,” “apanage,” and the like, though
of course the words were unknown in England at the time.
Footnote 44:
A local invasion of the _Hwiccas_ was repelled at Kempsford by the
Wilsætas. The Hwiccas are the people of the old diocese of Worcester.
They were therefore doubtless mainly of Saxon blood, yet they now act
as Mercian subjects. The war however seems to have been quite local,
carried on by the Ealdormen of the two shires.
Footnote 45:
I infer this from the description of the battle of Gafulford in 825,
which is said to have been fought between the Welsh and the men of
Devonshire, who must therefore have been English, or at least acting
in the English interest. Yet Devonshire, and even the city of Exeter,
remained partly Welsh as late as the time of Æthelstan.
Footnote 46:
_Norð-Wealas_ in the Chronicles means the inhabitants of Wales in the
modern sense, both North and South; they are opposed to the
_West-Wealas_, the Welsh of Cornwall.
Footnote 47:
See above, p. 12.
Footnote 48:
On the conquest of Northumberland, see Appendix KK.
Footnote 49:
It is hardly worth while to reckon the puppet Ceolwulf, not of the
royal house, set up for a moment by the Danes after the expulsion of
Burhred.
Footnote 50:
The exact boundary started from the Thames, along the Lea to its
source, then right to Bedford and along the Ouse till it meets
Watling-Street, then along Watling-Street to the Welsh border. See
Ælfred and Guthrum’s Peace, Thorpe’s Laws and Institutes, i. 152. This
frontier gives London to the English; but it seems that Ælfred did not
obtain full possession of London till 886. See Earle’s Parallel
Chronicles, p. 310.
Footnote 51:
See Appendix E.
Footnote 52:
The story which represents Ælfred as forsaken by his subjects on
account of cruelties in the early part of his reign, and as being thus
led to reformation, is part of the legend of Saint Neot, not of the
history of Ælfred.
Footnote 53:
No one can blame Ælfred for hanging (see Chron. 897) the crews of some
piratical Danish ships, who had broken their oaths to him over and
over again. His general conduct towards his enemies displays a
singular mildness.
Footnote 54:
“I then, Ælfred King, these [laws] together gathered, and had many of
them written which our foregangers held, those that me-liked. And many
of them that me not liked I threw aside, with my Wise Men’s thought,
and on otherwise bade to hold them. Forwhy I durst not risk of my own
much in writ to set, forwhy it to me unknown was what of them would
like those that after us were. But that which I met, either in Ine’s
days my kinsman, or in Offa’s the King of the Mercians, or in
Æthelberht’s that erst of English kin baptism underwent, those that to
me rightest seemed, those have I herein gathered and the others passed
by. I then Ælfred, King of the West-Saxons, to all my Wise Men these
showed, and they then quoth that to them it seemed good all to hold.”
Ælfred’s Dooms, Thorpe’s Laws and Institutes, i. 58–59; Schmid, p. 69
Footnote 55:
Guthrum of East-Anglia was a nominal vassal all along. But the
Northumbrians, whether Danes or English, seem not to have made
submission till 893, in the prospect of the last Danish invasion of
this reign. Their King Guthred had just died. See the two statements
in Simeon of Durham, X Scriptt. pp. 133 (M. H. B. 685), 151, and
Palgrave, ii. cccxv. Cf. Chron. and Fl. Wig. 894.
Footnote 56:
Ælfred was thus King of nearly all the Saxon part of England, of very
little of the Anglian part. Hence doubtless the title of “Rex Saxonum”
which he often uses. He was more than King of the West-Saxons; he was
less than King of the English.
Footnote 57:
See Appendix F.
Footnote 58:
Between Eadwig and Eadgar in 957, between Eadmund and Cnut in 1016,
between Harold and Harthacnut in 1035. All these arrangements were
short-lived, and they were probably not meant to be more than
temporary compromises.
Footnote 59:
Florence of Worcester (901) after a splendid panegyric on Ælfred,
continues, “Huic filius successit Eadwardus, cognomento Senior,
litterarum cultu patre inferior, sed dignitate, potentia, pariter et
gloria superior; nam, ut in sequentibus clarebit, multo latius quam
pater fines regni sui dilatavit,” &c. &c.
Footnote 60:
Ælfred was, according to custom, chosen in preference to the sons of
his elder brother Æthelred, who were minors at the time of their
father’s death. On Ælfred’s death one of these sons, Æthelwald, tried
to obtain the crown, but the Witenagemót elected Eadward the son of
Ælfred.
Footnote 61:
See Chron. 924, and Appendix G.
Footnote 62:
Ealdred the son of Ealdwulf, Lord of Bamburgh. His father had been
among the chiefs who did homage to Eadward in 924. On this family, see
Appendix KK.
Footnote 63:
See Earle, p. xix. It is much to be lamented that the prose entries in
the Chronicles for this important reign are so meagre. On the other
hand, William of Malmesbury evidently worked out the life of Æthelstan
with unusual care, seemingly from lost sources, and, amidst a great
deal of fable, we recover some truth.
Footnote 64:
I shall have to speak again of the foreign policy of Æthelstan in my
Chapter on the Early History of Normandy.
Footnote 65:
Florence has some special epithet for each of the conquering Kings of
this period—Eadward is “invictissimus,” Æthelstan “strenuus et
gloriosus,” Eadmund “magnificus,” Eadred “egregius,” Eadgar
“pacificus.”
Footnote 66:
The _Imperial_ character of the English royalty at this time will be
spoken of more largely in the next Chapter. See also Appendix B.
Footnote 67:
Leicester (Chron. 918), Stamford (922), and Nottingham (924) were all
in possession of Eadward, who built fortresses at the latter two.
Perhaps they had joined in the revolt of the Northumbrians in 941; but
the words of the Chronicles may lead us to think that Eadward accepted
the submission of the Confederation and built forts to keep the towns
from rebellion, without interfering with their internal
administration. A Danish civic aristocracy may therefore have gone on
down to the deliverance by Eadmund, holding the former English
inhabitants in more or less of subjection.
Footnote 68:
See Appendix H.
Footnote 69:
On the whole reign of Eadwig, see Mr. Allen’s Essay attached to his
work on the Royal Prerogative.
Footnote 70:
The entries in the Chronicles just at this time are singularly meagre.
Footnote 71:
See Brut y Tywysogion, a. 965. With this seems to be connected the
famous story of the tribute of wolves in William of Malmesbury, ii.
155.
An Irish campaign and victory of Eadgar (see the spurious charter of
964, Cod. Dipl. ii. 404) seem very doubtful.
Footnote 72:
Chron. 966.
Footnote 73:
With regard to Thanet, the Chronicles witness to the fact; Henry of
Huntingdon (M. H. B. 748 A) guarantees its justice; it was done “quia
jura regalia spreverant.” Roger of Wendover (i. 414) knows all about
it, and says it was because the men of Thanet plundered certain
merchants of York.
Footnote 74:
See the Pictish Chronicle, ap. Johnstone, Ant. Celt. Norm. 143.
Footnote 75:
The alleged cession of Lothian is surrounded with so many difficulties
that I reserve the question for fuller discussion. See Appendix I.
Footnote 76:
This is Dr. Lingard’s probable conjecture. Hist. of England, i. 262.
Footnote 77:
Laws of Eadgar, in Thorpe’s Laws and Institutes, i. 272, Schmid, p.
195.
Footnote 78:
The best of all authorities, the Chronicles (973), bear witness to the
meeting of Eadgar with six kings at Chester, where they renewed their
homage to him. Florence, the authority next in value, raises the
number to eight; he also gives their names (Kenneth of Scotland,
Malcolm of Cumberland, Maccus of the Isles, and five Welsh princes)
and describes the ceremony on the Dee.
Footnote 79:
In the ballad in the Chronicles (958) the only fault found with Eadgar
is his fondness for foreigners, who are said to have corrupted the
morals of the English in divers ways.
Footnote 80:
The scandalous stories told of Eadgar’s private life are, with one
exception, that of the abduction of the nun Wulfthryth, mere romances,
without a shadow of authority.
Footnote 81:
As long as Man retained its separate Kings or even its separate Lords,
it was strictly in the same position in which it was in the days of
Eadgar. Even now, as retaining its own Legislature and not being
represented in the Imperial Parliament, it is a dependency of the
British Crown, like the Channel Islands, not an integral part of the
United Kingdom, like England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland.
Footnote 82:
I cannot, in this Chapter, lay claim to the same originality which I
hope I may fairly claim in the narrative parts of this history. The
early political and legal antiquities of England have been treated of
by so many eminent writers that there is really little more to be done
than to test their different views by the standards of inherent
probability and of documentary evidence, and to decide which has the
best claim to adoption. Among many other works two stand out
conspicuously, Sir Francis Palgrave’s History of the English
Commonwealth and Mr. Kemble’s Saxons in England. My readers will
easily see that I have learned much from both, but that I cannot call
myself an unreserved follower of either. Another most important work
is Dr. Reinhold Schmid’s _Die Gesetze der Angelsachsen_ (2nd ed.
Leipzig, 1858). The most valuable part is the Antiquarian Glossary,
the principal articles of which swell into essays on the most
important subjects suggested by the Old-English Laws, supported by the
most lavish array of references for every detail. On the whole I think
I shall be commonly found maintaining the same constitutional views as
Mr. Kemble, except on the point of the _Imperial_ character of the
Old-English monarchy, an aspect of it which Mr. Kemble has rather
unaccountably slurred over. This point, one which closely connects
itself with other studies of mine, is perhaps the one which I have
thought out more thoroughly for myself than any other. Sir Francis
Palgrave, with his characteristic union of research, daring, and
ingenuity, was the first to call attention to the subject; but I must
confess that many of his views on the matter seem to me not a little
exaggerated.
[I let this note stand as it was first written about eleven years ago;
since then the great Constitutional History of Professor Stubbs has
gathered together all knowledge on these subjects in a wonderfully
short compass. My special obligations to him are recorded in my Fifth
Volume. I have also, since this Chapter was written, studied the great
work of Waitz, _Deutsche Verfassungs Geschichte_, and other German
constitutional writers, some for the first time, others more carefully
than I had read them before. I am glad that I do not find more to
change than I do. I have not thought it needful to recast the Chapter;
but I have changed whatever seemed either inaccurate or misleading,
and I have added some fresh illustrations and references, chiefly to
Waitz and Sir Henry Maine.]
Footnote 83:
[This was first written in the year 1866.]
Footnote 84:
On the change from _Ealdormen_ or _Heretogan_ to Kings, see Appendix
K.
Footnote 85:
See above, p. 54.
Footnote 86:
On all these points see Appendix K.
Footnote 87:
See above, p. 26.
Footnote 88:
See above, p. 54, and Appendix F. Gneist, Englische Verwaltungsrecht,
i. 47; “Nach dem Aussterben oder der Verdrängung der mediatisirten
Häuptlinge aber treten nahe Verwandte des regierenden Hauses
(Athelingi) oder verschwägerte oder sonst nahestehende Grossthane in
die Stelling solcher Unterkönige ein, bis die fortschreitende
Reichseinheit diese Statthalter allmälig auf dem Fuss blosser
Reichsbeamten bringt.” Cf. K. von Maurer, Kritische Überschau, i. 86.
Footnote 89:
See above, p. 62.
Footnote 90:
The modern German princes represent nothing but modern dynastic and
diplomatic arrangements; otherwise one might compare this process with
the return to ealdormanship in Wessex and Lombardy. [This was written
early in 1866, before the reverse process had begun.]
Footnote 91:
On the word “King” see Appendix L.
Footnote 92:
See Appendix M.
Footnote 93:
_Englaland_, in its different forms, does not appear in the Chronicles
till the year 1014. _Angel-cyn_, which in 597 clearly means the
people, must, in 975 and 986, be taken for the country. So still more
plainly in 1002. In many places it may be taken either way. Cf.
Appendix A, T.
Footnote 94:
Il. ix. 160. καὶ μοὶ ὑποστήτω ὅσσον =βασιλεύτερός= εἰμι.
Footnote 95:
In tracing the origin and progress of the _Comitatus_ or _Thegnhood_ I
find no essential difference between the views of Sir Francis Palgrave
and Mr. Kemble. It is only when we draw near to more purely political
questions that their theories diverge in any marked way.
Footnote 96:
Tac. Germ. 11. “De minoribus rebus principes consultant; de majoribus
omnes; ita tamen ut ea quoque, quorum penes plebem arbitrium est, apud
principes pertractentur.” This is exactly the Greek βουλή and δῆμος.
Footnote 97:
For the Assembly of the Achaians, see Il. ii. 51; for that of the
Gods, see Il. xx. 4. Compare on the Homeric Assemblies, Grote, Hist.
of Greece, ii. 91, and Gladstone, Homer and the Homeric Age, iii. 114.
It certainly strikes me that Mr. Gladstone has understood far more
thoroughly than Mr. Grote the position of the simple freeman of the
Homeric age, which Mr. Grote is inclined to undervalue. So most people
are inclined to undervalue the position of our _Ceorlas_. See Hallam,
Supplementary Notes, p. 206 et seqq.
Footnote 98:
On the amount of freedom among the Macedonians, see Historical Essays,
Second Series, p. 188, and the passages there quoted.
Footnote 99:
See History of Federal Government, i. 37–38.
Footnote 100:
The story is in the _Rig’s-mal_, and will be found in the English
translation of Mallet’s Northern Antiquities, p. 365. Jarl, Karl, and
Thræll, all born on one day through the power of the God Helmdall, are
the respective ancestors of the three classes of men, eorls, ceorls,
and _thralls_ or slaves. Karl, among other sons, has Husbandman,
Holder, and Smith.
Footnote 101:
Of the history and constitution of these commonwealths I trust to
treat more at large in the second volume of my History of Federal
Government. I will now only say that, though the amount of
independence enjoyed by the ancient Cantons has often been greatly
exaggerated, there is evidence enough to show that, in some districts
at least, the old Teutonic system can be traced back uninterruptedly
as far as we have any records at all, so that we may fairly presume an
unbroken succession from the Germans of Tacitus. [See Growth of the
English Constitution, p. 161, ed. 3.]
Footnote 102:
This comparison may surprise some who have been accustomed to look on
the _ceorlas_ as a very degraded class. There can be no doubt that
among the _ceorlas_ there were men of very different positions, that
the general tendency of their position was to sink, and that, by the
time of the Norman Conquest, some classes of them had advanced a good
way on the road to serfdom. But this was not the condition of the
whole order even then; still less was it the original conception of
_ceorldom_. The original ceorl is a citizen and a soldier; he is, or
may be, a landowner; on the one hand he is free, on the other he is
not noble. See the remarks in Hallam’s Supplementary Notes already
referred to.
Footnote 103:
See Mr. Kemble’s Chapter on “The Mark” in the first volume of The
Saxons in England.
Footnote 104:
To Mr. Allen (Royal Prerogative, p. 129) belongs the honour of having
first explained what _folkland_ and _bookland_ really were.
Footnote 105:
In Latin _possessores_, the word so fertile in confusions as to the
Agrarian Laws. So Aristotle (Pol. vii. 10) lays down the rule,
ἀναγκαῖον εἰς δύο μέρη διῃρῆσθαι τὴν χώραν, καὶ τὴν μὲν εἶναι κοινὴν,
τὴν δὲ τῶν ἰδιωτῶν. [On this whole subject of communities and common
lands much has been said since this Chapter was written. The English
reader will find the cream in Sir Henry Maine’s Village Communities.]
Footnote 106:
Cæsar, Bell. Gall. vi. 22. Cf. Tac. Germ. 26; but from c. 16 it would
seem that in his time the institution of the _eðel_ had already begun.
Footnote 107:
In Glarus and Appenzell altogether so, and even in Uri to some extent.
Footnote 108:
On the _Comitatus_ see the classical passage of Tacitus, Germ. 13, 14
(cf. 25), and for the working out of the whole in detail, see Mr.
Kemble’s two Chapters, “The Noble by Service” in the first volume, and
“The King’s Court and Household” in the second.
Footnote 109:
Looked at philologically, this word _Hlaford_ is most puzzling, and
the feminine _Hlæfdige_ (Lady) is more puzzling still. But it is
enough for my purpose, if a connexion with _Hláf_ in any shape be
admitted, whatever may be thought of the last syllable.
Footnote 110:
Maine, Ancient Law, 303. “The person who ministered to the sovereign
in his court had given up something of that absolute personal freedom
which was the proudest privilege of the allodial proprietor.”
Footnote 111:
Hom. Od. iv. 22;
ὁ δὲ προμολὼν ἴδετο =κρείων= Ἐτεωνεὺς,
ὀτρηρὸς =θεράπων= Μενελάου κυδαλίμοιο,
βῆ δ’ ἴμεν ἀγγελέων διὰ δώματα ποιμένι λαῶν.
So Il. xxiv. 473;
=ἕταροι= δ’ ἀπάνευθε καθείατο· τῷ δὲ δύ’ οἴω
=ἥρως= Αὐτομέδων τε, καὶ Ἄλκιμος ὄζος Ἄρηος,
=ποίπνυον= παρέοντε.
Eteôneus is κρείων, Automedôn is ἥρως, yet they are the _Þegnas_ of
Menelaos and Achilleus respectively.
Footnote 112:
Bæda, ii. 9. “Lilla minister (þegn) Regis amicissimus.” He saves his
_hlaford’s_ life at the cost of his own.
Footnote 113:
See this most remarkable story in the Chronicles, 755; Florence, 784.
Footnote 114:
Herod. vii. 104. ἔπεστι γάρ σφι δεσπότης νόμος, τὸν ὑποδειμαίνουσι
πολλῷ ἔτι μᾶλλον ἢ οἱ σοὶ σε.
Footnote 115:
Of this feeling, and the gradual change as the Empire advanced, I have
spoken in Historical Essays, Second Series, p. 317. See the passages
quoted in the note, Tac. Hist. i. 58, and Spartianus (in Hist. Aug.
Scriptt.) Hadrian, 22.
Footnote 116:
Mr. Kemble however (ii. 112) remarks that the greatest men of the
kingdom, men like Godwine, Leofric, and Siward, seem never to have
held such offices. So in our own day a man who had any chance of
becoming First Lord of the Treasury would not stoop to become Lord
Chamberlain or Master of the Horse.
Footnote 117:
See Appendix O.
Footnote 118:
On the promotion of Ceorls to higher rank, the following passages are
explicit. “We witan þæt þurh Godes gyfe þrǽl wærð tô þegene and ceorl
wearð tô eorle, sangere tô sacerde and bôcere tô biscope,” (Be griðe
and be munde. Wilkins, 112; Thorpe, i. 334; Schmid, 386). “And gif
ceorl geþeàh þæt he hæfðe fullice fîf hîda agenes landes, cirican and
kycenan, bell-hûs and burh-geat-setl _and sunder-note on cynges
healle_, þonne wæs he þononforð þegen rihtes weorðe.” (Thorpe, i. 190;
Schmid, 388. “Be leôd-geþincð and lage.”) The whole of this last
document bears on the subject. Compare also the table of Wergilds
(Schmid, 396), ii. § 9. On the first extract I may remark that the
jingle of beginnings and endings has carried the lawgiver a little too
far. In strictness the Ceorl could not become an Eorl (in the older
sense of the word); but a Ceorl, or even a Thrall when once
manumitted, might become a Thegn, and, once a Thegn, he might
conceivably become an Eorl in the later sense.
Footnote 119:
On _Commendation_, see Appendix N.
Footnote 120:
See Appendix O.
Footnote 121:
“Homo”—whence “homagium,” “hommage”—is the constant technical name for
the vassal. See Domesday in almost every page.
Footnote 122:
Palgrave, English Commonwealth, i. 354. Maine, Ancient Law, 302, who
however seems to forget the _Comitatus_, and brings in the relation of
patron and client, which however is itself a form of the _Comitatus_.
Footnote 123:
This was found in a somewhat different form on the continent. See the
documents in Waitz, Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte, iv. 266, one of
Charles the Great, which speaks “de tribus causis, de hoste publico,
hoc est de banno nostro, quando publicitus promovetur, et wacta, vel
pontes componendum.” Waitz remarks, “Statt der Wachtdienste wird bei
den Angelsachsen und später auch auf deutschem Boden das sogenannte
Burgwerk, die Hülfe beim Burgenbau, genannt.” And to the repair of
bridges, some of his documents add that of churches and roads.
Footnote 124:
For continental exemptions under the Karlings, see Waitz, iv. 268.
Footnote 125:
See Appendix P.
Footnote 126:
See Allen, pp. 143, 153, et seqq.; also on the whole subject of the
change of Folkland into _Terra Regis_.
Footnote 127:
I have said more on this subject in Growth of the English
Constitution, pp. 139, 140.
Footnote 128:
See Eichhorn, Deutsche Staats- und Rechtsgeschichte, iii. 158.
Footnote 129:
This was written before the wonderful changes in Germany (August,
1866), which will supply me with abundant matter for another work.
Footnote 130:
On this whole subject I must again refer to Mr. Kemble, especially to
his chapters on the Mark and the Shire.
Footnote 131:
Many of our present shires are historically divisions of kingdoms (see
above, p. 48), and the word _Scír_, connected with _scérn_ or _shear_,
of course actually means division. But the word is most likely a
comparatively modern one; the _Shire_ or _Pagus_ answers to the German
_Gau_, on which see Kemble’s chapter on the _Gá_, and the chapter in
the first volume of Waitz, _Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte_, “Das
Dorf, die Gemeinde, der Gau.”
Footnote 132:
See above, pp. 25, 26. Comparative Politics, 408, 412, 417.
Footnote 133:
See again Mr. Kemble’s chapter on the Gerefa. The _Gerefa_ or _Reeve_
is an officer, especially a fiscal officer, of any kind, from a
_Shirereeve_ down to a _Dykereeve_—Mr. Kemble adds, to a _Hogreeve_.
In Northern English the word, under the form of _Grieve_, has changed
from a public to a private _exactor_. The word is the same as the
High-Dutch _Graf_; only the one title has risen and the other has
fallen. A _Burggraf_ is a greater man than a _Boroughreeve_.
Footnote 134:
See above, p. 48.
Footnote 135:
Tac. Germ. 11. “Si displicuit sententia, fremitu adspernantur; sin
placuit, frameas concutiunt. Honoratissimum adsensus genus est, armis
laudare.” Comparative Politics, 466.
Footnote 136:
I must again refer to Mr. Gladstone’s remarks on this subject. Cf.
Historical Essays, Second Series, p. 84.
Footnote 137:
[Changes made since this was written have pretty well got rid of the
ancient _scirgemót_. See vol. v. p. 465.]
Footnote 138:
See Appendix Q.
Footnote 139:
Hist. of Federal Government, i. 266. We may be sure however, both from
the smaller extent of the country and from the political instincts of
the Greek mind, that popular attendance never died out so completely
in Achaia as it did in England. And in both cases those who lived in
the neighbourhood of the place of meeting would doubtless often attend
when people from a distance did not. The frequent attendance of the
citizens of London in the Witenagemót may be compared with the
appearance of a vast crowd of Corinthian citizens of inferior rank in
an assembly held at Corinth, which is spoken of as unusual. Polybios,
xxxviii. 4. Hist. Fed. Gov. i. 263.
Footnote 140:
Cf. Arist. Pol. iv. 5. 3. οὐ δεῖ δὲ λανθάνειν ὅτι πολλαχοῦ συμβέβηκεν
ὥστε τὴν μὲν πολιτείαν τὴν κατὰ τοὺς νόμους μὴ δημοτικὴν εἶναι, διὰ δὲ
τὸ ἦθος καὶ τὴν ἀγωγὴν πολιτεύεσθαι δημοτικῶς, ὁμοίως δὲ πάλιν παρ’
ἄλλοις τὴν μὲν κατὰ τοὺς νόμους εἶναι πολιτείαν δημοτικωτέραν, τῇ δ’
ἀγωγῇ καὶ τοῖς ἔθεσιν ὀλιγαρχεῖσθαι μᾶλλον. I suspect that both these
descriptions are in a manner applicable to the Old-English
constitution. The latter is true on the face of it; the democratic
theory veiled an oligarchic reality. But it seems not unlikely that
the former may be true also, and that the narrow body into which the
ancient free assembly had shrunk up still in practice fairly expressed
the sense of the nation.
Footnote 141:
_Witena-Gemót_ = _Sapientum concilium_. Sir Francis Palgrave suggests
(i. 143) that _Witan_ is used in the sense of _witnesses_; but
_sapientes_ is the common Latin translation. The Senate of Bremen used
to be called “Die Wittheit,” and the Senators of all the three
Hanseatic Towns were till lately called “hoch- und wohl-Weisheit.”
Footnote 142:
One might say, in all seriousness, ψυχῶν σόφων τοῦτ’ ἐστὶ
φροντιστήριον.
Footnote 143:
In 1004 Ulfkytel, acting as Ealdorman of the East-Angles (see Appendix
HH), assembles the local Gemót; “Þa gerædde Ulfkytel wið þa witan on
East-Englum.” The letter from the Kentish men to Æthelstan, quoted in
a former note, reads like an act of acceptance, on the part of a local
Gemót, of resolutions passed by the general body.
Footnote 144:
See Appendix Q.
Footnote 145:
See above, p. 102.
Footnote 146:
[On the seeming difference on this point between myself and Professor
Stubbs, see vol. v. p. 406.]
Footnote 147:
The powers of the Witan are drawn out in form by Kemble, ii. 204.
Footnote 148:
See Appendix R.
Footnote 149:
See Appendix S.
Footnote 150:
I shall speak of this point when I come to the disputed election after
the death of Eadgar.
Footnote 151:
See Ælfred’s will in Cod. Dipl. ii. 112, v. 127; and the account of
Æthelwulf’s will in Florence, 855. See Pauli’s Life of Ælfred, pp.
103, 104 (Eng. Trans.).
Footnote 152:
Taxation, in our modern sense, is seldom a matter of great importance
in an early state of society. Public or demesne lands, various imposts
on lands, feudal dues and compositions of various kinds, largely
supply its place. Taxation in the modern sense is scarcely heard of in
our earliest history, except for one shameful and unhappy purpose,
that of buying off the Danish invaders. For this purpose a real tax,
the famous Danegeld, was levied, and levied, as appears by several
passages of the Chronicles, by the joint authority of the King and his
Witan. So, during the same unhappy reign of Æthelred, we shall find
the King and his Witan laying on an impost, of which I shall speak
more when I come to it in the course of my narrative, one of a kind
intermediate between ship-money and an Athenian λειτουργία.
Footnote 153:
There was a direct collision in the case of that “Good Parliament” of
the eleventh century, the famous _Mycel Gemót_ which restored Godwine
and his family and drove out the foreign favourites of Eadward. But
whether anybody voted against the enactment of the Laws of Æthelstan
or Eadgar we have no means of knowing. We have several clear cases of
parties among the Witan during a vacancy of the crown, and of
differences on questions of foreign policy; but these cases do not
touch the present question.
Footnote 154:
Laws of Æthelberht, Thorpe, i. 2. “Gif cyning his leode to him
gehated, and heom mon þær yfel gedo, II bote and cyninge L scillinga.”
Footnote 155:
See Historical Essays, Second Series, p. 32.
Footnote 156:
On Ælfred’s deference to the authority of his Witan, see the quotation
from his Laws, above, p. 52.
Footnote 157:
The reign of Æthelred in England reminds one of the generalship of
Epêratos in Achaia (Polyb. v. 30; Hist. of Fed. Gov. i. 550), but
happily for Achaia her General could not remain in office for
thirty-eight years.
Footnote 158:
See Appendix D.
Footnote 159:
See Appendix G.
Footnote 160:
A ceorl might have his own _loaf-eaters_ (_Hláf-ætas_. Laws of
Æthelberht, 25), and this looks very like a form of the _Comitatus_.
Footnote 161:
Waitz (iii. 87), recording the homage done by Tassilo to Pippin, “ut
vasses,” says, “So viel wir wissen ist es das erste Mal, dass
Gebräuche und Grundsätze, welche ursprünglich offenbar auf ganz andere
Verhältnisse berechnet waren, für die politisch so bedeutenden
Beziehungen eines Herzogs zu dem Oberhaupt des Staates zur Anwendung
kamen.”
Footnote 162:
Among a crowd of smaller princes the Kings of Denmark, Poland,
Hungary, and Bohemia stand out conspicuous. All these were at one time
or another vassals of the Empire, though all except Bohemia recovered
their independence. The Kings of Poland and Bohemia received the royal
title from an Imperial grant.
Footnote 163:
Widukind, i. 29, who however calls him _Imperator_ prospectively. The
date is fixed by the Annales Vedastini (Pertz, i. 525, ii. 205),
though they give a different colouring to the transaction.
Footnote 164:
See Edward’s own statement, tracing his right up to the Commendation,
in Trivet (p. 382, Hog) and Hemingford (ii. 196). It is a pity that
any nonsense about Brutus has found its way into some copies of these
documents.
Footnote 165:
A Highlander, with his notions (though grounded on a different
principle) of personal fidelity to a chief, might perhaps have
understood it; but the true Scots had very little to do with the
affairs of the kingdom of Scotland.
Footnote 166:
See Robertson, Scotland under her Early Kings, i. 55.
Footnote 167:
See Appendix H.
Footnote 168:
Ibid.
Footnote 169:
See Appendix I.
Footnote 170:
See History of Federal Government, i. 120.
Footnote 171:
Again I keep clear of all mazes about Picts and Scots. My division is
true upon any theory, except the wild one of Pinkerton. The Picts were
either Irish or Welsh—in the wide sense of those two words.
Footnote 172:
See Appendix G.
Footnote 173:
I refer to the transactions between Æthelred and Malcolm of
Cumberland, which I shall speak of in my fifth Chapter.
Footnote 174:
See Appendix Q.
Footnote 175:
See Appendix B.
Footnote 176:
That is of course not Constantine the Great, but Constantine the
“Tyrant” of the fifth century.
Footnote 177:
See Appendix B.
Footnote 178:
For a specimen of this style see Macaulay, Hist. of Eng. i. 358.
Footnote 179:
See Appendix B.
Footnote 180:
See Appendix B.
Footnote 181:
The word _Tyrant_ in those times bore a sense which may be called a
monarchical antitype of its old Greek sense. The Greek tyrant was a
man who obtained kingly power in a commonwealth; the tyrants of the
third and fourth centuries were men who revolted against a lawful
Emperor. “Licet apud nos incubator imperii _tyrannus_ dicatur,” says
Servius (ad Virg. Æn. vii. 266). In both cases, the word in strictness
expresses only the origin of power, and not the mode of its exercise.
Many of the so-called tyrants were excellent rulers. But the Imperial
tyrant had this great advantage over the Greek tyrant, that success
might turn him into a lawful Emperor, while the Greek tyrant remained
a tyrant always. In mediæval writers the word is constantly used in
this later Imperial sense, as equivalent to “usurper” or “pretender.”
Footnote 182:
After all the case of an Emperor or tyrant reigning in Britain and
Britain only was excessively rare. It could have happened only in the
case of those fleeting tyrants of whom the land was said to be
fertile, and who rose and fell without being recorded. All the more
famous men of the class, Carausius, Maximus, Constantine, possessed
some part of the continental dominions of the Empire, and sought to
possess the whole.
Footnote 183:
See above, pp. 38, 39.
Footnote 184:
See p. 39.
Footnote 185:
Grimm’s Gedichte auf König Friedrich (Berlin 1844), p. 65.
Footnote 186:
See Appendix B.
Footnote 187:
I would not be understood as asserting the justice or honesty of any
such claim. The Commendation of 924 was wiped out by the renunciation
of 1328. From that time Scotland must be looked on as an independent
kingdom, and, as such, she rightly entered into the Union with England
on equal terms.
Footnote 188:
For the Norman and French history of the tenth century there are three
principal authorities. The only writer on the Norman side is Dudo,
Dean of Saint Quintin, whose work will be found in Duchesne’s _Rerum
Normannicarum Scriptores_. His history is nearly coincident with the
century, going down to the death of Richard the Fearless. He is a most
turgid and wearisome writer, without chronology or arrangement of any
kind. He is in fact one of the earliest of a very bad class of
writers, those who were employed, on account of their supposed
eloquence, to write histories which were intended only as panegyrics
of their patrons. It is only just before the end of his narrative that
Dudo begins to be a contemporary witness; up to that time he simply
repeats such traditions as were acceptable at the Norman court. Of the
two French writers, Flodoard or Frodoard, Canon of Rheims (whose
Annals will be found in the third volume of Pertz), is a far more
valuable writer in himself, but his notices of Norman affairs are few
and meagre. He perhaps avoids speaking of the terrible strangers any
more than he can help. Flodoard is a mere annalist, and aspires to no
higher rank, but in his own class he ranks very high. He is somewhat
dull and dry, as becomes an annalist, but he is thoroughly honest,
sensible, and straightforward. His Annals reach from 919 to 966, the
year of his death, so that he is strictly contemporary throughout. The
other French writer is Richer, a monk of Rheims, whose work was
discovered by Pertz, and is printed in his third volume (also
separately in his smaller collection, and in a French edition by M.
Gaudet, with a French translation, 2 vols. Paris, 1845). He was the
son of Rudolf, a knight and counsellor of King Lewis the Fourth, and
derived much of his information from his father. He also makes use of
the work of Flodoard. He goes down to 998, which was seemingly the
year of his death. Richer is not content with being an annalist; he
aspires to be an historian. He is much fuller and more vivid than
Flodoard, but I cannot look on him as equally trustworthy. On this
writer see Palgrave, History of Normandy and England, i. 748. The
second volume of Sir Francis’ own work contains a most vivid, though
very discursive and garrulous, history of the time before us, full of
all the merits and defects of its author. I would refer to an article
of mine on it in the Edinburgh Review for April 1859; also to another,
“The Franks and Gauls,” in the National Review for October 1860, since
reprinted in my first series of Historical Essays.
Footnote 189:
See Appendix A.
Footnote 190:
See Appendix T.
Footnote 191:
Will. Pict. 145. “Hujus milites Normanni possident Apuliam, devicere
Siciliam, propugnant Constantinopolim, ingerunt metum Babyloni.”
Footnote 192:
Guil. App. apud Murat, vol. v. p. 274;
... “Sic uno tempore victi
Sunt terræ domini duo; rex Alemannicus iste,
Imperii rector Romani maximus ille:
Alter ad arma ruens armis superatur, et alter
Nominis auditi sola formidine cessit.”
Cf. Roger of Howden (404) with his wild account of Robert Wiscard,
copied from Benedict, ii. 200.
Footnote 193:
Matt. Paris, p. 804, Wats. “Principum mundi maximus Fredericus, stupor
quoque mundi et immutator mirabilis.” P. 806. “Stupor mundi
Fredericus.”
Footnote 194:
This time of struggle is the subject of the second volume of Sir
Francis Palgrave’s History of Normandy and England. The character of
the period cannot be better summed up than it is by Widukind, lib. i.
c. 29; “Unde usque hodie certamen est de regno Karolorum stirpi et
posteris Odonis, concertatio quoque regibus Karolorum et orientalium
Francorum super regno Lotharii.” On the force of these names see
Appendix T.
Footnote 195:
I understand by “modern France” the extent of territory which, before
the annexations at the expense of the Empire began, was held either by
the King of the French in domain or by princes who held of him in
fief. From the France of 1870 we must take away the French part of
Hennegau, Lothringen and the three Bishopricks, Elsass, the county of
Burgundy, Savoy, Lyons, Bresse, the Dauphiny, Provence, Nizza, and
Corsica. We must add the still independent part of Flanders, the
county of Barcelona, and the Channel Islands.
Footnote 196:
That is, Aquitaine was, up to the Peace of Bretigny, always held in
nominal vassalage to France, but, except during the momentary
occupation when Philip the Fair had outwitted Edmund of Lancaster, no
Parisian King was immediate sovereign of Bourdeaux till Aquitaine
finally lost its independence in the fifteenth century.
Footnote 197:
Charles the Third is commonly said to have reunited the whole Empire
of Charles the Great, and he certainly reigned over Germany, Italy,
Lotharingia, and the Western Kingdom; but he never obtained the
immediate sovereignty of the Kingdom of Burgundy, founded by Boso in
879. Boso was succeeded by Rudolf.
Footnote 198:
“The City of Revolutions begins her real history by the first French
Revolution.” Palgrave, i. 282. (References to “Palgrave” will, for the
future, mean the “History of Normandy and England,” not the “English
Commonwealth.”)
Footnote 199:
On the sieges of Paris and the origin of the Parisian dynasty, see
more in Historical Essays, first series, “The Early Sieges of Paris.”
Footnote 200:
Richer, i. 5. “Hic [Odo] patrem habuit ex equestri ordine Rotbertum;
avum vero paternum, Witichinum advenam Germanum.”
Footnote 201:
See Appendix V.
Footnote 202:
I use this familiar name prospectively, as I know not what other to
put in its place. I may add that _Capet_ was at no time really a
family name, as people fancied during the French Revolution, and
ludicrously described Lewis the Sixteenth as “Louis Capet.”
Footnote 203:
Sir Francis Palgrave has altogether upset the vulgar error which looks
on the later Karlings as a line of utterly incapable Kings, like the
later Merwings. No two sets of men could be more completely different
both in position and in character.
Footnote 204:
See the story of the taking of Luna by mistake for Rome, Dudo, 65.
Footnote 205:
Regino in Anno (Pertz, i. 602), and our own Chronicles.
Footnote 206:
On the battle of Saulcourt, see the Chronicle in Duchesne, p. 4.
Footnote 207:
The _Ludwigslied_ will be found in Max Müller’s German Classics, p.
37.
Footnote 208:
See Benoît de Ste. More, p. 76, and M. Michel’s note. Cf. Dudo, p. 66.
Footnote 209:
See Flod. A. 923, 930 (Pertz, iii. 379), et pass. On the Loire, as at
Bayeux, the Normans had Saxon forerunners. Greg. Tur. ii. 18, 19;
Zeuss, 386.
Footnote 210:
“Richardus pyratarum dux apoplexia minore periit” is one of the last
entries in the history of Richer (t. ii. p. 308, Guadet).
Footnote 211:
The genuine name is _Hrolfr_, _Rolf_, in various spellings. The true
French form is _Rou_. The love of the Old-French tongue for making all
nouns end in _s_, that is, for making them all of the second
declension, made this into _Rous_, and hence came a strange Latin form
_Rosus_. The true Latin form is _Rollo_, like _Cnuto_, _Sveno_, &c.
From this Latin form modern French writers have, oddly enough, made a
form _Rollon_. The strangest form is _Rodla_, which occurs in a late
manuscript of the English Chronicles (A. 876. Thorpe’s ed.). This was
clearly meant to be an English form of _Rollo_. The English masculine
ending _a_ was substituted for the Latin _o_, just as Giso and Odo are
in English _Gisa_ and _Oda_. The writer also clearly thought that
Rollo was a name of the same type as Robert and others, and he fancied
that by putting in a _d_ he was restoring it to its genuine Teutonic
shape.
Footnote 212:
Flodoard was perhaps contemporary with the settlement, but we have no
narrative of those years from his hand. Richer, if he was very old
when he died, may have been an infant at the time of the settlement,
but that is all.
Footnote 213:
Dudo, 75 C.
Footnote 214:
Lappenberg (Thorpe), ii. 60.
Footnote 215:
In some accounts he seems to appear even earlier than 876. Duchesne,
25 D.
Footnote 216:
Dudo, 75 D.
Footnote 217:
Ib. 77 C.
Footnote 218:
Ib. C, D.
Footnote 219:
Dudo, 80 B. Cf. Duchesne, 25 A, 34 B.
Footnote 220:
See above, p. 53.
Footnote 221:
Dudo, 84 A.
Footnote 222:
See Appendix W.
Footnote 223:
See Appendix W.
Footnote 224:
See Appendix T.
Footnote 225:
I cannot but think that Sir Francis Palgrave has made too much of this
last title, which is surely only a piece of Dudonian rhetoric, like
the “satrapæ” and “archontes” of our own charters.
Footnote 226:
See above, p. 164.
Footnote 227:
See the stories in Dudo, p. 85; Benoît de Ste. More, 7146 et seqq.
Footnote 228:
On the division of the land, just like the division of Northumberland
and Danish Mercia, see Depping, i. 125.
Footnote 229:
See further on in this Chapter.
Footnote 230:
See Palgrave, i. 700; Lappenberg’s Anglo-Norman Kings, 97; and, more
at large, Depping, ii. 339. Such names as _Dieppedal_ (Deep dale) and
_Caudebec_ (Cold beck) are good examples. In forming local names from
the proper names of men, the familiar Danish _by_ often appears under
the form of _bœuf_; but it is more usual to couple the Danish name
with a French ending. _Haqueville_, for instance, answers to the
English _Haconby_.
Footnote 231:
Palgrave, ii. 68, 259.
Footnote 232:
Dudo, 76 D. “Quo nomine vester senior fungitur? Responderunt, Nullo,
quia æqualis potestatis sumus.”
Footnote 233:
Several examples are collected by Lappenberg, p. 19. The dealings of
the Assembly touching the abdication of Rolf are given at large by
Dudo, 90 D, et seqq. So in 85 B we read, “Jura et leges sempiternas
voluntate principum sancitas et decretas plebi indixit.”
Footnote 234:
See Depping, ii. 128, 129.
Footnote 235:
Flod. A. 923. “Ragenoldus princeps Nortmannorum qui in fluvio Ligeri
versabantur, Karoli frequentibus missis jampridem excitus, Franciam
trans Isaram conjunctis sibi plurimis ex Rodomo prædatur.”
Footnote 236:
The well-known duchy of after times, with Dijon for its capital. This
part of the earliest Burgundy always retained its connexion with the
kingdom of the West-Franks, while the rest formed the Burgundian
kingdom of Boso.
Footnote 237:
Here Lewis the Eleventh was kept in durance by Charles the Bold, on
which Philip of Comines remarks (ii. 7), “Le roy qui se vid enfermé en
ce chasteau (qui est petit) et force archers à la porte, n’estoit
point sans doute: et se voyoit logé rasibus d’une grosse tour, où un
comte de Vermandois fit mourir un sien predecesseur roy de France.”
There is a curious notice of Charles’s imprisonment in Thietmar of
Merseburg (i. 13. Pertz, iii. 741); “Fuit in _occiduis partibus_
quidam rex, ab incolis _Karl Sot_, id est stolidus, ironice dictus,
qui ab uno suimet ducum captus, tenebris includitur carceralibus.”
Both Thietmar and Widukind (i. 33) attribute to the Eastern King a
powerful intervention in favour of Charles, which is perfectly
possible, but which it is hard to find in the French writers.
Footnote 238:
On the siege of Eu (Auga), see Flodoard, A. 925; Richer, i. 49. On Eu,
see vol. iii. ch. xii. § 2. The way in which Flodoard (A. 923)
mentions the first invasion of Normandy is remarkable; “Itta fluvio
transito ingressus est [Rodulfus] terram, quæ dudum Nortmannis ad
fidem Christi venientibus, ut hanc fidem colerent, et pacem haberent,
fuerat data.”
Footnote 239:
See Appendix T.
Footnote 240:
Flod. A. 924. On Maine, see vol. iii. ch. xii. § 3.
Footnote 241:
Dudo gives the account in full, p. 90 et seqq. He makes Rolf survive
his abdication five years. Florence of Worcester makes him die in 917,
probably by omission or misreading of a letter. Richer seems (but
compare his two versions) to kill him at Eu in 925. The one certain
thing is that William did homage to Charles in 927. “Karolus igitur
cum Heriberto colloquium petit Nortmannorum ad castellum quod Auga
vocatur, ibique se filius Rollonis Karolo committit, et amicitiam
firmat cum Heriberto.” Flod. in anno. So Richer, i. 53.
Footnote 242:
On the history of the Saxons of Bayeux, see Lappenberg, Anglo-Norman
Kings, p. 2. There were also Saxon settlements in Anjou and at Sens.
Footnote 243:
In the Capitulary of Charles the Bald in 843 (Pertz, Legg. i. 426),
which Lappenberg refers to, the “Ot lingua Saxonia” is distinguished
from the “Bagisinum.” It might seem that the Saxon speech survived in
some parts of the country, but not in the city. The document is a list
of royal _missi_ and of the districts to which they were sent.
Footnote 244:
There would be whatever difference there may have been—one probably
not very perceptible—between the Saxons of Bayeux and the Angles of
Eastern and Northern England; there also is greater chance of a
certain Celtic intermixture at Bayeux than there is at Derby or
Stamford.
Footnote 245:
No country is historically more interesting to Englishmen than
Aquitaine, on account of its long political connexion with England;
but the connexion was purely political; there are no such abiding
traces of real kindred as we see in Normandy, and especially in the
Bessin.
Footnote 246:
Benoît, v. 8342;
“Ici trespasse Rous li proz et li vaillanz
Od fin duce e saintisme, e pleins de jorz e d’anz.”
Footnote 247:
The tale is told by the Aquitanian chronicler Ademar (iii, 20, Pertz,
iv. 123), and M. Francisque Michel (note on Benoît, v. 8349) is
inclined to believe it. It runs thus; “Postea vero [Rosus, see above,
p. 165] factus Christianus a sacerdotibus Francorum, imminente obitu,
in amentiam versus, Christianos captivos centum ante se decollari
fecit in honore, quæ coluerat, idolorum, et demum centum auri libras
per ecclesias distribuit Christianorum in honore veri Dei in cujus
nomine baptismum susceperat.” But the manuscript which Pertz follows
in his text does not make the sacrifice take place immediately before
his death, and it is as well to see how Ademar’s whole story hangs
together. He makes his “Rosus” be defeated by King Rudolf in the
battle of Limoges in 930; he then retreats, and finding Rouen
unoccupied, takes possession.
Footnote 248:
Dudo, 77 D; Benoît, v. 4122.
Footnote 249:
Will. Gem. iii. 2. See Appendix X.
Footnote 250:
Will. Gem. ii. 22. “Repudiatam Popam ... iterum repetens sibi
copulavit.” See more in detail, Benoît, v. 7954. So Roman de Rou,
2037.
Footnote 251:
Dudo, 97 C; Will. Gem. iii. 3.
Footnote 252:
Ademar, iii. 27. “Roso defuncto, filius ejus Willelmus loco ejus
præfuit, a pueritia baptizatus, omnisque eorum Normannorum, qui juxta
Frantiam inhabitaverant, multitudo fidem Christi suscepit, et gentilem
linguam obmittens, Latino sermone assuefacta est.” So, in the same
words, in the Chronicle of Saint Maxentius, Labbé, iii. 202. On the
use of _Latinus_ for French, instead of _Romanus_, see Appendix V.
Footnote 253:
Flodoard, A. 928.
Footnote 254:
Ib. A. 929; Richer, i. 56.
Footnote 255:
Ib. A. 930. “Aquitanos sibi subditos fecit.” Of course this implies
nothing more than homage. Cf. above, p. 156.
Footnote 256:
Flodoard, A. 931. “Brittones qui remanserant Nortmannis in Cornu
Galliæ subditi consurgentes adversus eos qui se obtinuerant, in ipsis
solemniis sancti Michaelis omnes interemisse dicuntur qui inter eos
morabantur Nortmannos.”
Footnote 257:
Dudo, 93 B.
Footnote 258:
The Chronicle of Saint Maxentius, under 937 (Labbé, iii. 202), speaks
of Saint Michael’s Mount as founded “in ea Normannia quæ antea
vocabatur marchia Franciæ et Britanniæ.”
Footnote 259:
On these marriages see William of Malmesbury, ii. 126, 135. He
describes at length the splendid embassy sent by Hugh (see Flod. A.
926) to demand Eadhild. Oddly enough, in c. 135 he calls Hugh “Rex
Francorum,” while in c. 128 he utterly confounds the whole genealogy
and history of the Parisian Dukes.
Footnote 260:
Her name is by French writers tortured into Ethgiva, Ogive, and what
not. She is “Headtgiva” in Aimon of Fleury, Pertz, ix. 375. He says
that Lewis [see Appendix A.], “calamitatis paternæ procella semet
involvi metuens, ad Anglos-Saxones, maternæ affinitatis invitatus
gratia, se contulit, in transmarinis arbitratus se tutiorem manere
regionibus, quam inter suos dominus si foret in cubiculo, rex in
convivio.”
Footnote 261:
Richer, ii. 1, 73. He was carried out in a bundle of hay or some such
stuff (“in fasciculo farraginis”); but whither was he carried? “In
partes transmarinas et prope in Rifeos.” As Lewis certainly went as
far north as York, does this flourish mean the Cheviots, the
Grampians, or what?
Footnote 262:
Dudo, 93 C. “Ipse vero in Britannia, nec in tota Francia usquam morari
ob metum Willelmi ducis nequivit, sed profugus expetivit auxilium
Alstemi Anglorum regis.” Benoît, 8834;
“En Engleterre au rei engleis
Alestan, au proz, au corteis,
Là se remist, là s’en foï
Deserité e mauballi.”
Footnote 263:
Dudo, 97 B. “Franciscæ gentis principes Burgundionumque comites
famulabantur ei; Dacigenæ et Flandrenses, _Anglique et Hibernenses
parebant ei_.” Ib. D. “Non solum monarchiam, quam tenebat, regebat;
verum etiam affinia regna strenuo consilio moderabat. _Angli parebant
ejus mandatis_, Franci et Burgundiones ejus dictis.”
Footnote 264:
It is curious to compare the different ways in which the return of the
Bretons is told by Flodoard and by Dudo. Flodoard (A. 936) is willing
to magnify even an Englishman in comparison with a Norman. William is
not named. “Brittones a transmarinis regionibus Alstani Regis præsidio
revertentes terram suam repetunt.” Dudo mixes up their return with the
return of King Lewis, which in Flodoard follows it, and he makes
Æthelstan something like a suppliant to William (95 D.) He calls
Æthelstan “Anglorum Rex _pacificus_.” Was he thinking of Eadgar, who
may have come within his own memory?
Footnote 265:
Dudo, 98 A. “Ipseque Alanus postea Willelmi mandatis indesinenter
inhæsit.” Cf. 102 B, C; 113 D; 117 D.
Footnote 266:
Flodoard seems to imply that some of these independent Normans entered
Britanny, about the same time as this suppression of the Breton
revolt, perhaps even in concert with Duke William (A. 931); “Incon
Nortmannus, qui morabatur in Ligeri, cum suis Britanniam pervadit
victisque et cæsis vel ejectis Brittonibus regione potitur.” Of the
return of the Bretons he has two notices. The first is under the year
937; “Brittones ad sua loca post diutinam regressi peregrinationem,
cum Nortmannis, qui terram ipsorum contiguam sibi pervaserant,
frequentibus dimicant prœliis, superiores pluribus existentes et loca
pervasa recipientes.” The second is in the next year, 939; “Brittones
cum Nortmannis confligentes victoria potiuntur, et quoddam
Nortmannorum castellum cepisse feruntur.” See Palgrave, ii. 178–182.
Footnote 267:
The general line of thought in this paragraph is suggested by
Palgrave, i. 106.
Footnote 268:
See above, p. 155.
Footnote 269:
Dudo, 94 et seqq.
Footnote 270:
From this scheme he was dissuaded by the good sense of the Abbot
Martin. Those who care to read the Abbot’s sermon on the practical and
the contemplative life will find it in Latin (diversified with a
little Greek) in Dudo, p. 101 et seqq., and in Old-French in Benoît,
v. 11057 et seqq.
Footnote 271:
William of Jumièges (iii. 9) makes Harold Blue-tooth, driven from his
kingdom by his son Swegen, take refuge with William Longsword, who
allows him to settle in the Côtentin till he can recover his kingdom.
Now Harold’s expulsion by Swegen did not happen till long afterwards,
and Swegen could hardly have been born when William died. The story no
doubt arises from some confusion with Harold’s dealings with Normandy
in the next reign, but it may very well preserve a memory of some real
Danish colonization of the peninsula with or without William’s
permission.
Footnote 272:
Dudo, ii. 112 D. See Appendix V.
Footnote 273:
Richer (i. 47) distinctly calls the immediate subjects of Charles the
Simple “Germani.”
Footnote 274:
I of course assume that Hugh had no share in the murder of William, a
point which I shall discuss elsewhere.
Footnote 275:
Flod. A. 933. “Willelmus, princeps Nortmannorum eidem regi [Rodulfo]
se committit; cui etiam rex dat terram Brittonum in ora maritima
sitam.”
Footnote 276:
Flod in A. “Heribertus comes ad Heinricum proficiscitur, eique sese
committit.” The matter was serious enough for Rudolf and Hugh to make
special peace with Henry, and to give hostages.
Footnote 277:
Richer, ii. 1–4. See Appendix Y.
Footnote 278:
Richer, ii. 2. “Adelstanus rex in urbem quæ dicitur Eurvich, regnorum
negotia cum nepote Ludovico apud suos disponebat.” Mark the accuracy
of the plural form _regnorum_ (we shall come to it again), as applied
to the dominions of the Emperor of Britain.
Footnote 279:
Ib. 3. “Acsi _barbaris_ non satis credens.” The Persians in Æschylus
call themselves βάρβαροι, and Plautus says, “Menander scripsit, Marcus
vortit _barbarè_;” but why should Richer call his own people _barbari_
as contrasted with the English? Is the word put dramatically into the
mouth of Æthelstan, and does _barbari_ literally translate _Wealas_?
Footnote 280:
Richer, ii. 3. “Secus ipsas litoreas arenas collecti, tuguriorum
incendio præsentiam suam iis qui in altero litore erant
ostendebant.... Cujus [Adelstani] jussu domus aliquot succensæ, sese
advenisse trans positis demonstrabat.” The passion for setting fire to
everything sometimes seems to be specially Norman; here it is also
English and French.
Footnote 281:
Richer mentions Oda only, Flodoard mentions several Bishops and Thegns
(fideles).
Footnote 282:
Richer, ii. 4. “Quod si nolint, sese ei daturum suorum aliquod
regnorum, quo contentus et suis gaudeat et alienis non sollicitetur.”
Footnote 283:
Ib. “Dux cum reliquis Galliarum magnatibus id sese facturum asserit,
si rex creatus a suis consiliis non absistat.” The relation thus
mildly described is in cap. 6 called “procuratio.” So Flodoard, A.
937.
Footnote 284:
Richer is an excellent authority for all matters personally concerning
Lewis. He got his information from his father Rudolf, a brave and
trusty servant of the King. The description here (ii. 4) is highly
graphic.
Footnote 285:
Richer, ii. 5; Flod. in anno.
Footnote 286:
Flod. A. 937. “Ludowicus rex ab Hugonis principis se procuratione
separans, matrem suam Lauduni recipit.” Richer, ii. 6. “Rex felicium
rerum successu elatus, præter ducis procurationem absque eo jam
disponebat. Laudunum itaque tendit, ibique matrem suam Ethgivam
reginam ad urbis custodiam deputat. Ac exinde quæcumque præter ducem
adoriebatur.”
Footnote 287:
See above, p. 161.
Footnote 288:
On this siege, which is of some interest in a military point of view,
see Flodoard, A. 938; Richer, ii. 9, 10.
Footnote 289:
Flod. A. 939.
Footnote 290:
Dudo, 103 A.
Footnote 291:
Flod. A. 939; Richer, ii. 11–15. These writers know something of
William’s personal share in the campaign, which is asserted by Dudo,
103 B; Will. Gem. iii, 10. According to Benoît (11873 et seqq.), the
men of the Côtentin specially distinguished themselves.
Footnote 292:
Flod. A. 939. “Uxorem ipsius Herluini trans mare cum filiis ad
Alstanum regem mittit.” Richer, ii. 12. “Erluini uxorem cum natis
Ædelstano regi Anglorum servandos trans mare deportat.”
Footnote 293:
Flod. A. 939. William is excommunicated “ab episcopis qui erant cum
rege.”
Footnote 294:
Richer, ii. 18. “Cum ejus [Ottonis] pater Saxoniæ solum propter
Sclavorum improbitatem rex creatus sit, eo quod Karolus, cui rerum
summa debebatur, adhuc in cunis vagiebat.” But Henry was elected in
918, just before Charles’s troubles began, but when he had been a good
many years out of his cradle.
Footnote 295:
Flod. A. 959.
Footnote 296:
Ib. “Anglorum classis ab Alstano, rege suo, in auxilium Ludowici regis
transmissa mari transito loca quæquæ Morinorum mari deprædatur
contigua; nulloque negotio propter quod venerant peracto, remenso
mari, propria repetunt loca.” Richer, ii. 16. “Nec multo post et ab
Ædelstano Anglorum rege classis regi cum copiis missa est. Audierat
enim illum ab iis qui maritima incolebant loca exagitari, contra quos
classis dimicaret regique nepoti auxilium ferret. Comperto vero contra
regem illorum neminem stare, ipsumque regem in partes Germaniæ
prosperum secessisse, mari remenso ad propria remeat.”
There is a marked difference of tone in these two accounts. Flodoard
clearly wishes to make as little as he can of the English
intervention, while Richer is anxious to make the most. Nor are their
statements easy to reconcile. If Æthelstan’s fleet ravaged the Flemish
coast, while Arnulf was still not an avowed enemy, that would at once
explain Arnulf’s sudden defection. But, according to Richer, it would
seem that Æthelstan heard some rumour of Arnulf’s intended treachery,
but that, as it was not yet carried out, he had no excuse for action.
That we do not hear of English interference during the next stage of
the history is probably accounted for by Æthelstan’s death in 940.
Footnote 297:
Flod. A. 939. “Otho rex colloquium habuit cum Hugone et Heriberto,
Arnulfo et Willelmo Nortmannorum principe; et acceptis ab eis pacti
sacramentis, trans Rhenum regreditur.”
Footnote 298:
Ib. “Proficiscitur Elisatium, locutusque cum Hugone Cisalpino.”
Richer, ii. 17. “Rex in pago Elisatio eum Hugone Cisalpino principe
locutus.” On this use of the word “Cisalpinus,” see Appendix T.
Footnote 299:
Flod. A. 939.
Footnote 300:
Ib. A. 940. “Rex Ludowicus abiit obviam Willelmo principi
Nortmannorum, qui venit ad eum in pago Ambianensi et se illi commisit.
At ille dedit ei terram quam pater ejus Karolus Nortmannis
concesserat.”
Footnote 301:
Richer, ii. 20. “Wilelmus piratarum dux ... regis factus, tanto ei
consensu alligatus est ut jam jamque aut sese moriturum, aut regi
imperii summam restituturum proponeret.”
Footnote 302:
Flod. A. 940. Richer (ii. 22) does not mention the presence of William
at the siege.
Footnote 303:
Flod. A. 940. “Dedit autem rex Artoldo archiepiscopo, ac per eum
ecclesiæ Remensi, per præceptionis regiæ paginam Remensis urbis
monetam jure perpetuo possidendam; sed et omnem comitatum Remensem
eidem contulit ecclesiæ.”
Footnote 304:
Flod. A. 940; Palgrave, ii. 244.
Footnote 305:
Flod. A. 942. More fully, Richer, ii. 28.
Footnote 306:
See Appendix Z.
Footnote 307:
See above, p. 180, and Appendix X.
Footnote 308:
See above, p. 192.
Footnote 309:
Dudo, 112 D.
Footnote 310:
Flod. A. 943. “Rex Ludowicus filio ipsius Willelmi, nato de concubina
Brittanna, terram Nortmannorum dedit.” So more fully in Richer, ii.
34.
Footnote 311:
The original authority, such as it is, for these stories is of course
Dudo, with the metrical chroniclers, who mainly follow him, Benoît
sometimes adding details of his own. The English reader will find all
he can want in Sir Francis Palgrave. I cannot help also mentioning
Miss Yonge’s tale of the “Little Duke,” where the whole legend is very
pleasantly told, though with too great a leaning to the Norman side.
Footnote 312:
Richer, ii. 37; R. Glaber, i. 3.
Footnote 313:
See above, p. 206.
Footnote 314:
On the influence of Conrad, see Flodoard, A. 948, 949, 952; Richer,
ii, 82, 97. Conrad afterwards lost his duchy. Bruno, Archbishop and
Duke, brother of Otto, brother-in-law of Lewis and Hugh the Great,
uncle of Lothar and Hugh Capet, plays a most important part somewhat
later.
Footnote 315:
See above, p. 186.
Footnote 316:
Flod. A. 943; Richer, ii. 35. The Norman writers pass over their
Duke’s apostasy, which of course proves very little as to the personal
disposition of a mere child, though it proves a great deal as to the
general state of things in the country. But Flodoard and Richer are
both explicit. “Turmodum Nortmannum, qui ad idolatriam gentilemque
ritum reversus, ad hæc etiam filium Willelmi aliosque cogebat.”
(Flod.) “Ut ... defuncti ducis filium ad idolatriam suadeant, ritumque
gentilem inducant.” (Richer.)
Footnote 317:
Flod. A. 943. “Quidam principes ipsius se regi committunt, quidam vero
Hugoni duci.” Richer, ii. 34. “Potiores quoque qui cum adolescentulo
accesserant, per manus et sacramentum regis fiunt.... Alii vero
Nortmannorum, _Richardum ad regem transisse indignantes_, ad Hugonem
ducem concedunt.”
Footnote 318:
Flod. A. 943. “Rex ei ducatum Franciæ delegavit, omnemque Burgundiam
ipsius ditioni subjecit.” Richer (ii. 39) says, “Eum rex omnium
Galliarum ducem constituit.” This last cannot have been a formal
title; it is merely Richer’s characteristic way of affecting classical
language in his geography.
Footnote 319:
Flod. A. 943. “Hugo dux Francorum crebras agit cum Nortmannis, qui
pagani advenerant, vel ad paganismum revertebantur, congressiones; a
quibus peditum ipsius Christianorum multitudo interimitur at ipse
nonnullis quoque Nortmannorum interfectis ceterisque actis in fugam,
castrum Ebroas faventibus sibi qui tenebant illud Nortmannorum
Christianis, obtinet.” Richer does not mention this.
Footnote 320:
Flod. A. 943; Richer, ii. 35. The account of the battle is much fuller
in Richer.
Footnote 321:
Flod. A. 943.
Footnote 322:
Richer, ii. 38.
Footnote 323:
Flod. A. 943. “Hugo Arnulfum cum rege pacificavit, cui rex infensus
erat ob necem Willelmi.” Richer, ii. 40.
Footnote 324:
Dudo, 114 et seqq.; Benoît, 12809 et seqq.; Roman de Rou, 2799 et
seqq.
Footnote 325:
Dudo, 114 C. “Rotomagum properavit cum suis comitibus super his quæ
nefario Arnulfi comitis astu acciderant consulturus. Rotomagenses vero
adventu regis Ludovici hilares susceperunt eum volenter, putantes ut
equitaret super Flandrenses,” &c.
Footnote 326:
Ib. 115 C. “Richardo prædignæ innocentiæ puero largitus est terram
hæreditario avi patrisque jure possidendam.” Is not this a repetition
of the real grant and homage mentioned above, which did not take place
at Rouen?
Footnote 327:
“Poplites coquere.” Dudo, 117 B. “Poplites adurere.” Will. Gem. iv. 3.
See M. Francisque Michel’s note on Benoît, 13706.
Footnote 328:
That is, he was carried out in a truss of hay. One can hardly avoid
the suspicion that this is the story of Lewis’s own deliverance (see
above, p. 184), perhaps itself legendary, turning up in another shape.
Footnote 329:
Flod. A. 944. He seems to distinguish “Nortmanni cum quibus pactum
inierant” from “Nortmanni qui nuper a transmarinis venerant
regionibus.” Cf. Richer, ii. 41.
Footnote 330:
Flod. A. 944. “Hugo dux Francorum pactum firmat cum Nortmannis, datis
utrimque et acceptis obsidibus.”
Footnote 331:
Dudo, 120 B, D.
Footnote 332:
Flod. A. 944. “Baiocas ... civitatem ... quam rex ei dederat, si eum
ad subjiciendam sibi hanc Nortmannorum gentem adjuvaret.”
Footnote 333:
Ib. A. 944. “Rex Rodomum perveniens a Nortmannis in urbe suscipitur,
quibusdam mare petentibus qui eum nolebant recipere, cæteris omnibus
sibi subjugatis.” Richer, ii. 42. “Rex Rhodomum veniens, ab iis qui
fidei servatores fuere exceptus est. Desertores vero mare petentes,
amoliti sunt, municipia vero copiis munita reliquere.”
Footnote 334:
Flod. A. 944. “Unde et discordiæ fomes inter regem concitatur et
ducem.” From Flodoard it would seem that Hugh had fought with some
Normans, and from Richer that he received the homage of others,
earlier in the year. Hugh’s policy was always double, and Normandy was
now very much divided against itself.
Footnote 335:
Flod. A. 945. “Rex Ludowicus collecto secum Nortmannorum exercitu,
Veromandensen pagum depredatus.” So Richer, ii. 44.
Footnote 336:
Richer, ii. 47. “Rhodomum rediit, nil veritus cum paucis illic
immorari, cum idem consueverit.”
Footnote 337:
Dudo, 122 C.
Footnote 338:
The chronology of Gorm’s reign is of course mythical; some give him
quite a short reign; others make two or three Gorms. In short, we have
hardly any standing-ground in Danish history before the time of
Swegen.
Footnote 339:
See above, p. 191, for the rebellion of his son Swegen, which the
later Norman writers misplace. Of Swegen I shall have much to say in
my next Chapter.
Footnote 340:
I may for once quote an “Apostropha” of Dudo, 125 D;
“O pius, prudens, bonus, et modestus;
Fortis et constans, sapiensque, justus,
Dives, insignis, locuplesque, sollers
Rex Haygrolde.
Quamvis haut sis chrismate delibutus,
Et sacro baptismate non renatus:
En vale, salveque, et aucto semper
In deitate.”
Footnote 341:
See above, p. 210.
Footnote 342:
“Cæsaris burgus” is the approved etymology of our author’s, but I
suspect that the place is akin to our _Scarborough_ in name as well as
in natural position.
Footnote 343:
Flod. A. 945. “Haigroldus Nortmannus qui Baiocis præerat.” So Richer,
ii. 47.
Footnote 344:
Flod. u. s.; Richer, u. s. This last writer brings in Hugh the Great
as an accomplice; “Dolus apud ducem a transfugis paratus, qui ante
latuerat, orta opportunitate ex raritate militum, in apertum erupit.
Nam dum tempestivus adveniret, ab Hagroldo qui Baiocensibus præerat,
per legationem suasoriam accersitus, Bajocas cum paucis ad
accersientem, utpote ad fidelem quem in nullo suspectum habuerat,
securis accessit. Barbarus vero militum inopiam intuitus cum
multitudine armatorum Regi incautus aggreditur.”
Footnote 345:
Dudo, 123 C, D.
Footnote 346:
See vol. iii. ch. xii. § 2.
Footnote 347:
Flod. A. 945. “Rex solus fugam iniit, prosequente se Nortmanno quodam
sibi fideli. Cum quo Rodomum veniens, comprehensus est ab aliis
Nortmannis quos sibi fideles esse putabat, et sub custodia detentus.”
Footnote 348:
Dudo, 125 D. “Jura legesque et statuta Rollonis ducis tenere per omnia
cogebat.”
Footnote 349:
In Cnut’s time (Chron. A. 1018) the Witan at Oxford renewed “Eadgar’s
law;” so Harold, in answer to the demands of the Northumbrians in
revolt against Tostig (Chron. A. 1065), “renewed Cnut’s law.” So on
the conquest of Cyprus by Richard the First in 1191 the laws of the
Emperor Manuel were restored—on the payment by the islanders of half
their possessions. Ben. Petrib. ii. 168.
Footnote 350:
I confess that, once or twice, in writing this paragraph, a doubt has
crossed my mind whether “Haigrold who commanded at Bayeux” (see p.
217) was not, after all, some much smaller person than Harold King of
the Danes. The Northern writers, as far as I know, do not mention the
expedition, the motive of which is not very obvious. But very little
can be made out of the Northern stories in any case; the French
writers always slur over everything Norman; and the fiction would seem
almost too bold even for Norman invention. The details of course
cannot be accepted in any case.
Footnote 351:
Flod. A. 945; Richer, ii. 48; Widukind, ii. 39. “Hluthowicus rex a
ducibus suis [Hugh?] circumventus, et a Northmannis captus, consilio
Hugonis Lugdunum [confusedly for _Laudunum_, which is itself an error]
missus custodiæ publicæ traditur. Filium autem ejus natu majorem
Karlomannum Northmanni secum duxerunt Rothun; ibi et mortuus est.” On
the hostages, see Flodoard and Richer.]
Footnote 352:
Richer, ii. 49, 50. “Ob minas Anglorum nil se facturum; ipsos, si
veniant, quid in armis Galli valeant promptissime experturos; quod si
formidine tacti non veniant, pro arrogantiæ tamen illatione, Gallorum
vires quandoque cognituros et insuper pœnam luituros. Iratus itaque
legatos expulit.” Flodoard, contrary to the remark made in p. 203, is
less excited against insular intervention.
Footnote 353:
Widukind, ii. 39. “Audiens autem rex super fortuna amici satis doluit,
imperavitque expeditionem in Gallia contra Hugonem in annum secundum.”
Footnote 354:
Flod. A. 945. “Qui rex nolens loqui cum eo mittit ad eum Conradum
ducem Lothariensium. Cum quo locutus Hugo, infensus Othoni regi
revertitur.”
Footnote 355:
Flod. A. 946; Richer, ii. 51. Richer clearly connects the liberation
of Lewis with the negotiations with Otto. Widukind (iii. 2) is still
more explicit; “Certus autem factus de adventu regis Huga, timore
quoque perterritus, dimisit Hluthowicum.”
Footnote 356:
Flod. A. 946. “Qui dux Hugo renovans regi Ludowico regium honorem vel
nomen, ei sese cum cæteris regni committit primoribus.” Richer cuts
the matter shorter (ii. 51); “Unde et dimissus, data Lauduno,
Compendii sese recepit.”
Footnote 357:
Dudo, 126 C. See Appendix W.
Footnote 358:
Dudo, 128 D et seqq. See Appendix W.
Footnote 359:
Dudo, 138 A. “Burgundionibus imperat, Aquitanos arguit, et increpat
Britones, et Northmannos regnat et gubernat, Flandrenses minatur, et
devastat Dacos et Lotharienses, quinetiam Saxones sibi connectit et
conciliat. Angli quoque ei obedienter subduntur, Scoti et Hibernenses
ejus patrocinio reguntur.” Cf. p. 185.
Footnote 360:
See Appendix W.
Footnote 361:
Flod. 948. “Hugo, nullam moram faciens, collecta suorum multa
Nortmannorumque manu.” 949. “Hugo comes collecta suorum multa
Nortmannorumque manu.” “Hugo igitur non modico tam suorum quam
Nortmannorum collecto exercitu.”
Footnote 362:
Widukind (ii. 2) has a good deal to tell us about the threats
exchanged between Hugh and Otto, and about the straw hats worn by
Otto’s soldiers, but he cuts the details of the campaign very short.
See Palgrave, ii. 544.
Footnote 363:
Dudo, 129 D.
Footnote 364:
This Lotharingian dispute is not mentioned by Richer, but it appears
in Flodoard, A. 944. Lewis and Hugh both sent embassies to Otto, and
that of Hugh met with the more favourable reception. Things changed
greatly in the course of a year.
Footnote 365:
Dudo, 129 B, makes Henry still King, and presently—finding out his
mistake, but not correcting it—he goes on to talk of Otto. This year,
946, Otto lost his beloved English wife Eadgyth. Flod. A. 946;
Widukind, ii. 41, iii. 1.
Footnote 366:
See Appendix T.
Footnote 367:
Wid. iii. 3. “Lugdunum [Laudunum] adiit, eamque armis temptavit.”
Flodoard (946) says, “Considerata castri firmitate devertunt ab eo.”
So Richer, ii. 54.
Footnote 368:
Flod. A. 946; Wid. iii. 3; Richer, ii. 54–6. Widukind places the
taking of Rheims before the invasion of France.
Footnote 369:
The accounts here vary a good deal. Widukind says, “Inde Parisius
[this name is used, I know not why, by many mediæval writers as an
inclinable noun] perrexit, Hugonemque ibi obsedit, memoriam quoque
Dionysii martyris [Hugh was lay Abbot of his monastery] digne honorans
veneratus est.” Flodoard says, “Reges cum exercitibus suis terram
Hugonis aggrediuntur, et urbem Silvanectensem obsidentes, ut viderunt
munitissimam, nec eam valentes expugnare, cæsis quibusdam suorum,
dimiserunt. Sicque trans Sequanam contendentes, loca quæque præter
civitates gravibus atterunt deprædationibus, terramque Nortmannorum
peragrantes, loca plura devastant; indeque venientes regrediuntur in
sua.” Could Widukind have confounded Paris and Senlis? Richer, who has
some curious details (ii. 57), mentions the siege of Senlis (56) but
says nothing of Paris, and he quarters Hugh at Orleans (58). Dudo (130
B) makes the Kings meet at Paris, so far confirming Widukind. Dudo
doubtless did not care about the fate of Laon or Rheims.
Footnote 370:
Neither Flodoard nor Richer mentions Rouen. All that Richer (ii. 58)
has to say of the Norman campaign is, “Post hæc feruntur in terram
piratarum ac solo terras devastant. _Sicque regis injuriam atrociter
ulti_, iter ad sua retorquent.” But Widukind (iii. 4) has, “Exinde,
collecta ex omni exercitu electorum militum manu, Rothun Danorum urbem
adiit, sed difficultate locorum, asperiorique hieme ingruente, _plaga
eos quidem magna percussit_; incolumi exercitu, _infecto negotio_,
post tres menses Saxoniam regressus est, urbibus Remense atque Lugduno
[a clear error] cum cæteris armis captis Hluthowico regi concessis.”
Footnote 371:
Dudo, 131–5; Roman de Rou, 3914–4291; Palgrave, ii. 556–586. See also
Historical Essays, First Series, pp. 240–243.
Footnote 372:
Against Flanders (Flod. A. 947; Richer, ii. 60); against Rheims (Flod.
u. s.; Richer, ii. 62); against Soissons (Flod. 848; Richer, ii. 85).
Footnote 373:
Lewis in 947 (Flod. in anno; Richer, ii. 61); Gerberga in 949 (Flod.
in anno; Richer, ii. 86). This was a great meeting of German and
Lotharingian princes, and of ambassadors from Italy, England, and
Constantinople.
Footnote 374:
Flod. 947; Richer, ii. 63–5. It would seem that some bishops were
there in their _princely_ character, to whom Duke Hugh referred the
question about the archbishopric of Rheims, which the bishops referred
to a more regular synod to be held at Verdun. Widukind says (iii. 5),
“Huga autem expertus potentiam regis virtutemque Saxonum, non passus
est ultra terminos suos hostiliter intrare, sed _pergenti in eamdem
expeditionem anno sequenti_ [the French writers do not imply this]
occurrit juxta fluvium qui dicitur Char, manus dedit, juxtaque
imperium regis pactum iniit, utilisque proinde permansit.” This is
greatly exaggerated.
Footnote 375:
Flod. 947; Richer, ii. 66.
Footnote 376:
Flod. 948; Richer, ii. 67, 8.
Footnote 377:
Flod. 948; Richer, ii. 69–81.
Footnote 378:
I quote some passages from Flodoard illustrating the position of the
Kings. “Ingressis gloriosis regibus Othone et Ludowico et simul
residentibus ... exsurgens Ludowicus rex e latere et concessu domini
regis Othonis.” Lewis offers “inde se juxta synodale judicium _et
regis Othonis præceptionem_ purgaret, vel certamine singulari
defenderet.” “Interea rex Ludowicus deprecatur regem Othonem ut
subsidium sibi ferat contra Hugonem, et ceteros inimicos suos. Qui
petitioni concedens,” &c.
Footnote 379:
Flod. 948. The Synod adjourned from Engelheim to Laon and from Laon to
Trier, where the anathema against Hugh was pronounced. Flodoard was
himself present, being chaplain to Archbishop Artald. Richer, (ii. 82)
confounds the two adjournments, and makes the anathema be pronounced
at Laon.
Footnote 380:
See above, p. 222.
Footnote 381:
See above, p. 209.
Footnote 382:
Flod. A. 949; Richer, at great length, ii. 87–91.
Footnote 383:
Flod. A. 949; Richer, ii. 95.
Footnote 384:
Flod. A. 950. “Hugo ad regem venit et suus efficitur.” Richer, ii. 97.
“Dux ... regi humiliter reconciliari deposcit, eique satisfacturum
sese pollicetur.... Hugo itaque dux per manus et sacramentum regi
efficitur.”
Footnote 385:
Flod. A. 953.
Footnote 386:
Richer’s narrative (ii. 98) differs from that of Flodoard in
introducing Hugh as gathering the army for the Aquitanian expedition,
of which the King afterwards takes the command. But Richer’s French
translator seems to misconceive his meaning when he renders “_in
Aquitaniam_ exercitum regi parat” by “le duc leva une armée _en
Aquitaine_.”
Footnote 387:
Flod. A. 951; Richer, u. s., who says that Charles “ex regio quidem
genere natus erat, sed concubinali stemmate usque ad tritavum
sordebat.” Neither of them gives him the royal title which he
certainly bore. Is “Charles-Constantine” perhaps the earliest case of
a double Christian name, or is “Constantinus” a mere surname, derived
from one of the cities called Constantia?
Footnote 388:
Flod. A. 954; Richer, ii. 103.
Footnote 389:
Flod. A. 965; Richer, iii. 21.
Footnote 390:
Flod. A. 954. “Lotharius puer, filius Ludowici, apud Sanctum Remigium
rex consecratur ab Artoldo archiepiscopo, favente Hugone principe et
Brunone archiepiscopo, cæterisque præsulibus ac proceribus Franciæ,
Burgundiæ, atque Aquitaniæ.” Richer (iii. 1, 2) is fuller, but to the
same effect.
Footnote 391:
He married Gerloc or Adela, daughter of Rolf and Popo. Dudo (97 B, C)
has a curious story about his courtship.
Footnote 392:
See Flod. A. 942, 951; Richer, ii. 28, 98.
Footnote 393:
Flod. A. 954. “Burgundia quoque et Aquitania Hugoni dantur ab ipso
[Lothario].”
Footnote 394:
Flod. A. 955; Richer, iii. 3–5, who puts as good a face as he can on
Hugh’s discomfiture, and makes more of a subsequent victory over
William, and of a second more successful siege, of which Flodoard says
nothing.
Footnote 395:
Flod. A. 956. “Hugo princeps obiit.” Richer, iii. 5.
Footnote 396:
Dudo, 136 D.
Footnote 397:
Flod. A. 960. “Richardus, filius Willelmi Nortmannorum principis,
filiam Hugonis trans Sequanam [or ‘Transsequani’] quondam principis
duxit uxorem.” Dudo (136, 7) and Sir Francis Palgrave (ii. 690–4) have
much to say about this marriage.
Footnote 398:
See Appendix W.
Footnote 399:
Flod. A. 960. “Otto et Hugo filii Hugonis, mediante avunculo ipsorum
Brunone, ad regem veniunt ac sui efficiuntur. Quorum Hugonem rex ducem
constituit, addito illi pago Pictavensi ad terram quam pater ipsius
tenuerat; concessa Ottoni Burgundia.” So Richer, iii. 13.
Footnote 400:
Flod. A. 965. “Otto filius Hugonis, qui Burgundiæ præerat, obiit, et
rectores ejusdem terræ ad Hugonem et Oddonem clericum, fratres ipsius,
sese convertunt.” According to _L’Art de Vérifier les Dates_ (ii. 495,
ed. 1784), “Oddo clericus” is the same as Henry the Great, founder of
the first line of Capetian Dukes of Burgundy.
Footnote 401:
See Appendix W.
Footnote 402:
In 958 Arnulf either associated his son Baldwin with him in his
government, or else resigned in his favour. On his death in 962 he
again took possession. See _L’Art de Vérifier les Dates_, iii. 3.
Footnote 403:
See _L’Art de Vérifier les Dates_, ii. 611.
Footnote 404:
Flod. A. 962. “Seniorem suum [Tetbaldi] Hugonem.”
Footnote 405:
Ib. 945. “Committens [Hugo] eum [Ludowicum] Tetbaldo cuidam suorum.”
He had just before called him “Tetbaldus Turonensis.”
Footnote 406:
Dudo, 137 D et seqq.
Footnote 407:
Flod. A. 962. “Tetbaldus quidam.” 964. “Tetbaldum quemdam procerem.”
Footnote 408:
Dudo, 142 C.
Footnote 409:
Ib. 139 C et seqq.
Footnote 410:
Flod. A. 961. “Placitum regale diversorumque conventus principum
Suessionis habetur, ad quod impediendum, si fieri posset, Richardus
filius Willelmi Nortmanni accedens, a fidelibus regis quibusdam
pervasus, et, interemptis suorum nonnullis, in fugam versus est.”
Footnote 411:
Ib. 962. “Tetbaldus quidam cum Nortmannis confligens victus est ab
eis, et fuga dilapsus evasit. Qui seniorem suum Hugonem proinde
infensum habens ad regem venit, a quo, sed et a regina Gerberga
benigne susceptus, et miti consolatione refocillatus abscessit.”
Richer only mentions Theobald in connexion with his spoliation of the
Church of Rheims and his consequent excommunication, iii. 20. So Flod.
A. 964.
Footnote 412:
Dudo, 140 C et seqq.
Footnote 413:
The “Norman Kingdom” was, according to Dudo (147 C, D; 151 C),
confirmed by the King and his princes (“Optimates totius Franciæ”—a
new use of words seems creeping in) to Richard and his heirs for ever;
the question of homage is avoided.
Footnote 414:
Twenty-four years later, in 986, Dudo, then canon of Saint Quintin,
was of an age to take a prominent share in public business. Dudo, 155
D.
Footnote 415:
See the detailed narrative in Richer, iii. 67–81.
Footnote 416:
Did the very name of the country, “regnum Lotharii,” suggest to the
present Lothar the thought of recovering it? Such a motive would not
be out of character with a prince whose indignation was stirred up
simply because the Emperor was staying—with his pregnant wife—so near
the border as Aachen. So at least Richer tells us, iii. 68.
Footnote 417:
Richer, iii. 69. “Mox dux et aliis primates, sine deliberandi
consultatione sententiam regiam attollunt. Sese sponte ituros cum rege
et Ottonem aut comprehensuros aut interfecturos aut fugaturos
pollicentur.”
Footnote 418:
Ib. iii. 71. “Æream aquilam quæ in vertice palatii a Karolo magno acsi
volans fixa erat, in Vulturnum converterunt. Nam Germani eam in
Favonium converterant, subtiliter significantes Gallos suo equitatu
quandoque posse devinci.”
It is amusing to find the characteristic vanity of the great nation
showing itself thus early. Most likely neither Charles nor any later
German had ever thought of anything of the kind.
Footnote 419:
Richer, iii. 74–76. See Historical Essays, p. 243.
Footnote 420:
According to Thietmar of Merseburg (iii. 7) Lothar came in person,
accompanied by his son. Richer (iii. 79) makes him send ambassadors.
The speech put into their mouths seems quite to look on Otto and
Lothar as royal colleagues. Otto’s Imperial dignity is not hinted at;
I doubt whether Richer ever uses the word Emperor at all.
Footnote 421:
Richer, iii. 81. “Belgicæ pars quæ in lite fuerat in jus Ottonis
transiit.”
Footnote 422:
See the narrative, a most full, curious, and interesting one, of
Hugh’s journey to the Emperor at Rome, and the snares laid for him on
his return by Lothar. Richer, iii. 81–88.
Footnote 423:
Richer, iii. 89, 90.
Footnote 424:
Ib. iii. 91. “A duce reliquisque principibus Ludovicus rex
acclamatus.” Others place this event in 978 or 979.
Footnote 425:
Ib. iii. 92–95. Adelaide, widow of Raymond of Septimania or Gothia.
Lewis divorced her. Cf. Rud. Glaber, i. 3.
Footnote 426:
Richer, iii. 97–110.
Footnote 427:
Dudo, 155 C. Cf. Flod. A. 965.
Footnote 428:
Richer, iv. 1.
Footnote 429:
Richer, iv. 2, 3.
Footnote 430:
Ib. iv. 5.
Footnote 431:
This is alluded to in the words, “Qui tanta capitis imminutione hebuit
[any notion of the legal phrase of ‘_de_minutio capitis’?] ut externo
regi servire non horruerit.” Richer, iv. 11.
Footnote 432:
See Appendix S.
Footnote 433:
Richer, iv. 12, 13.
Footnote 434:
See the history of the war in Richer, iv. 14–49.
Footnote 435:
Ælius Spartianus, Pescennius, 1. “Quos tyrannos aliorum victoria
fecerit;” a good illustration of the use of the word. The same may be
said of Antipopes.
Footnote 436:
See pp. 206, 209, 223.
Footnote 437:
Neither Richer—he was not likely—nor Rudolf Glaber speaks of Richard
at all. Dudo, oddly enough, passes by the whole business very briefly;
“Nec illud prætereundum quod, Lothario rege defuncto [he forgets
Lewis], Hugo dux inthronizatus voluit super Albertum comitem
equitare.” (155 D.) William of Jumièges is fuller; “Mortuo Francorum
rege Lothario, in illius loco ab omnibus subrogatur Hugonis Magni
ducis filius Hugo Capeth, adminiculante ei duce Richardo.” (iv. 19.)
The Roman de Rou (5823) is fuller still;
“Par defaute de son lignage,
O le cunseil del grant barnage,
E por la force de Richart,
Par son conseil e par son art,
Fu Hugon Chapes recéu,
Et en France pour rei tenu ...
Par Richart è par sa valor,
Ki éu aveit sa seror,
Par sun cunseil è par s’amur
Fu de France Huon seignur.”
Footnote 438:
See above, p. 223.
Footnote 439:
See above, p. 154.
Footnote 440:
See Flodoard’s description of Lewis’s invasion of Normandy, A. 944;
“Ludowicus rex in terram Nortmannorum proficiscitur cum Arnulfo et
Herluino et quibusdam episcopis Franciæ ac Burgundiæ.”
Footnote 441:
The different circumstances which led to such different results in
France and in Germany I trust to point out in the second volume of my
History of Federal Government.
Footnote 442:
With the exception of the three portions of the kingdom which have
become wholly detached. See above, pp. 156, 187.
Footnote 443:
Dante, Purg. xx.
Footnote 444:
For this legend in full, see the early chapters of Oudegherst,
_Annales de Flandres_. Lyderic, the foundling, is of course of
princely birth. It is the same story as those of Cyrus and Romulus.
Footnote 445:
See _L’Art de Vérifier les Dates_, ii. 828.
Footnote 446:
Will. Gem. vii. 38. “Mater ejus Sprota, necessitate urgente,
contubernio [was there even a Danish marriage?] cujusdam prædivitis
nomine Asperlengi adhæsit. Hic, licet in rebus locuples, tamen
molendina vallis Ruelii ad firmam solitus erat tenere.” So M. Jourdain
measured cloth only for amusement; so, in some pious legends, Zebedee
was a mighty baron of Galilee, whose sons fished for pleasure and not
for profit.
Footnote 447:
There is something ludicrous in the way in which Dudo (137 B, C),
after spending all his powers of prose to set forth the marriage of
Emma, goes on to explain in verse that she was not fated to be the
mother of a Duke of the Normans.
Footnote 448:
Dudo, 152 C. “Subscalpenti voluptuosæ humanitatis fragilitati
subactus, genuit duos filios, totidem et filias, ex concubinis.”
Footnote 449:
Dudo (u. s.) makes her to be “ex famosissima nobilium Dacorum prosapia
exorta,” but he allows that the Duke “eam prohibitæ copulationis
fœdere sortitus est sibi amicabiliter.” He marries her (“inextricabili
maritalis fœderis privilegio sibi connectit”) at the advice of the
great men of the land. So William of Jumièges (iv. 18) vouches for the
nobility of her birth and for her marriage being celebrated
“Christiano more.” But his continuator (viii. 36) has a curious
legend—the same as one of the legends of our Eadgar—to tell about her
first introduction to Richard. See also Roman de Rou, 5390–5429, &c.,
5767–5812.
Footnote 450:
See Chron. S. Max. ap. Labbé, ii. 202. We there read, “Ricardus
Christianissimus factus,” probably not without an allusion to his
apostasy in his childhood.
Footnote 451:
So Wace, 5873;
“Clers establi ki servireient,
E provendes dunt il vivreient.”
Footnote 452:
See Neustria Pia, 210; Lincy, “Essai Historique et Littéraire sur
l’Abbayes de Fécamp” (Rouen, 1840), p. 6. The expressions of Dudo, 153
B et seqq., and of William of Malmesbury, ii. 178, might easily
mislead.
Footnote 453:
See p. 164.
Footnote 454:
See Hist. of Fed. Government, i. 574.
Footnote 455:
Roman de Rou, 5955–5974.
Footnote 456:
Will. Gem. v. 2; Roman de Rou, 5975–6118. See above, p. 172.
Footnote 457:
I do not mean merely because the word “parlement” occurs several times
in the Roman de Rou. It is there used in its primitive sense, as
translating “colloquium.” With this Norman revolt we may compare the
revolt in Britanny in 1675, described in the Count of Carné’s “Etats
de Bretagne.” See especially the “Code Paysan” at i. 377. The part of
Rudolf of Ivry is played by the Duke of Chaulnes.
Footnote 458:
Will. Gem. v. 2. “Nam rustici unanimes per diversos totius Normannicæ
patriæ comitatus plurima agentes conventicula, juxta suos libitus
vivere decernebant. Quatenus, tam in silvarum compendiis quam in
aquarum commerciis, nullo obsistente ante statuti juris obice, legibus
uterentur suis. Quæ ut rata manerent, ab unoquoque cœtu furentis vulgi
duo eliguntur legati, qui decreta ad mediterraneum roboranda ferrent
conventum.”
Footnote 459:
Roman de Rou, 6070;
“Asez tost oï Richard dire
Ke vilains _cumune faseient_.”
It does not necessarily follow that the word “commune” was used at the
time, though I know no reason why such may not have been the case. It
would be quite enough if Wace applied to the union of the peasants a
name which in his time had become perfectly familiar, in the
instinctive feeling that the earlier movement was essentially a
forerunner of the later. Compare the “conjurationes” so strictly
forbidden in the Carolingian Capitularies. See Brentano on Gilds, p.
lxxvi; and for a full account of these “conjurationes,” Waitz, iv.
362–364.
Footnote 460:
Roman de Rou, 6001–6015.
Footnote 461:
Mark the brutal levity with which Rudolf’s cruelties are dismissed by
William of Jumièges (v. 2); “Qui [Rodulphus] non morans jussa, cunctos
confestim legatos cum nonnullis aliis cepit, truncatisque manibus et
pedibus, inutiles suis remisit, qui eos talibus compescerent, et ne
deteriora paterentur suis eventibus cautos redderent. His rustici
expertis, festinato concionibus omissis, ad sua aratra sunt reversi.”
So Roman de Rou, where various other tortures are spoken of, vv.
6093–6118. The same sentiment comes out in the speech which Orderic
(713 A) puts into the mouth of the monks of Molesme; “Exinde principum
institutione, et diutina consuetudine usitatum est in Gallia, ut
rustici ruralia, sicut decet, peragant opera, et servi servilia passim
exerceant ministeria.... Absit ut rustici torpescant otio, saturique
lascivientes cachinnis et inani vacent ludicro, quorum genuina sors
labori dedita est assiduo.”
Footnote 462:
Albereda, the wife of Rudolf, built the famous tower of Ivry. See
Will. Gem. viii. 15.
Footnote 463:
See Palgrave, iii. 44.
Footnote 464:
Our main authorities for this period are essentially the same as those
to which we have to go for our knowledge of earlier times. The English
Chronicles are still our principal guide. For the present they may be
quoted as one work, as the differences between the different
manuscripts, pointed out by Mr. Earle in the Preface to his Parallel
Saxon Chronicles, are not as yet of much strictly historical
importance. Florence of Worcester gives what is essentially a Latin
version of the Chronicles, with frequent explanatory additions, which
his carefulness and sound sense render of great value. The Charters
and Laws of the reign of Æthelred are abundant, and, besides their
primary value as illustrating laws and customs, the signatures
constantly help us to the succession of offices and to a sort of
skeleton biographies of the leading men of the time. These, the
Chronicles, Laws, and Charters, form our primary authorities. The
later Latin Chroniclers, from William of Malmesbury and Henry of
Huntingdon onwards, supply many additional facts; but their accounts
are often mixed up with romantic details, and it is dangerous to trust
them, except when they show signs of following authorities which are
now lost. This is not uncommonly the case with both Henry of
Huntingdon and William of Malmesbury. Local histories, like those of
Ely, Ramsey, and Abingdon, supply occasional facts, but the same sort
of cautions which apply to the secondary writers of general history
apply to them in a still greater degree. We now also begin to draw
some little help from foreign sources. The Danish History of Saxo
Grammaticus, the Chronicles of Swegen Aggesson, the various Sagas,
especially the famous Saga of Olaf Tryggvesson, are very hard to
reconcile with the more authentic notices in our own Chronicles; but
among much that is doubtful and much that is clearly fabulous, they
often help us to facts, and to the causes and connexions of facts,
which our own writers leave obscure. The Norman writers also begin to
be of some importance for the events which connect England and
Normandy. For the early part of the reign of Æthelred we have no
contemporary Norman writer, but the accounts in the Roman de Rou and
in William of Jumièges at least show us what was the Norman tradition.
Later in the period, we have, in the Encomium Emmæ (reprinted in the
nineteenth volume of Pertz by the name of “Gesta Cnutonis”), the work
of a contemporary Norman or Flemish writer, which, though throughout
unfair and inaccurate, is worth comparing with our English writers.
Occasional notices of Danish and English affairs are sometimes to be
gleaned from the German writers, like Adam of Bremen and the
contemporary Thietmar of Merseberg.
On the whole the materials for this period are ample, and, as regards
England, they are fully trustworthy. The difficulty lies in
reconciling the English and continental narratives.
Footnote 465:
“Unready” must mean “lacking _rede_” or counsel. Walter Map (De Nugis,
199) calls him “Edelredus, quem Anglici _con_silium [_in_silium? see
below, p. 317] vocaverunt, quia nullius erat negotii.” “Magnificus,”
the epithet of Eadmund the First, means rather “worker of great
deeds”—the Greek μεγαλοπράγμων,—than “magnificent” in the vulgar
sense.
Footnote 466:
See Appendix AA.
Footnote 467:
Fl. Wig. A. 975. “Congregato exercitu, monasteria Orientalium Anglorum
maxima strenuitate defenderunt.”
Footnote 468:
“Amicus Dei.” Fl. Wig. 975, 991, 992, 1016. See Appendix AA.
Footnote 469:
See Appendix AA.
Footnote 470:
For a full examination of her story, I would refer to the first Essay
in my Historical Essays, first series.
Footnote 471:
“Fabius Quæstor Patricius Æthelwerdus,” as he thinks good to call
himself, the author of the earliest and most meagre of our Latin
Chronicles, was descended (see his own Prologue) from one of the sons
of Æthelred the First who were excluded to make way for Ælfred (see
above, p. 108).
Footnote 472:
Fl. Wig. 975. See Appendix BB.
Footnote 473:
The correct description is “the Old Lady.” See Chron. (Abingdon),
1051. Lady (_Hlæfdige_), it will be remembered, not _Queen_, is the
usual title of the wife of a West-Saxon King.
Footnote 474:
See Eadmer, Anglia Sacra, ii. 220, Osbern, 112, and Lingard’s note,
Hist. of England, i. 274.
Footnote 475:
Fl. Wig. A. 976. The poems in the Chronicles certainly seem to me to
connect the banishment of Oslac with the predominance of Ælfhere and
the anti-monastic party.
Footnote 476:
See Appendix KK.
Footnote 477:
The Chronicles bitterly lament the crime, without mentioning the
criminal. Florence distinctly charges Ælfthryth with it. In the hands
of William of Malmesbury (ii. 162) the story becomes a romance, which
gets fresh details in those of Bromton (X Scriptt. 873 et seqq.). The
_obiter dictum_ of William of Malmesbury (ii. 165), that Ælfhere had a
hand in Eadward’s death, is contrary to the whole tenor of the
history. See Chron. 980; Fl. Wig. 979.
Footnote 478:
I know not what to make of the incredible story in Goscelin’s Life of
Saint Eadgyth (Mabillon, Ann. Ord. Ben. vii. 622), that the Witan or
some of them (“regni proceres”) wished to choose his heroine, a
natural daughter of Eadgar and already a professed nun, as Lady in her
own right. A female reign had not been heard of since the days of
Sexburh.
Footnote 479:
Chron. and Fl. Wig. in anno. See also the charter of 998 in Cod. Dipl.
iii. 305, and Appendix AA. The beginnings of a legendary version may
be seen in William of Malmesbury (ii. 165) and Roger of Wendover (i.
423).
Footnote 480:
Fl. Wig. 987. The English and Welsh Chronicles both put the
cattle-plague a year earlier, and do not mention the disease among
men.
Footnote 481:
On the contradictory statements as to Æthelred’s first wife and her
children, see Appendix RR.
Footnote 482:
The full form of this name, _Swegen_, is always used by the English
Chroniclers; but in Danish pronunciation it seems to have been already
cut down into _Svein_ or _Sven_. The Latin forms are _Suanus_ and
_Sueno_.
Footnote 483:
This is in marked contrast to the affairs of the Empire, on which our
Chroniclers evidently kept a careful eye, and of which they contain
many notices.
Footnote 484:
See the Saga of Olaf Tryggvesson, c. 29; Laing, i. 395. Swegen is
called Suein Otto by Adam of Bremen, ii. 25.
Footnote 485:
Adam Brem. u. s.; Sax. Gram. lib. x. p. 185, ed. Hafn. 1644.
Footnote 486:
See the “Saga om Oloff Tryggwasson,” “Historia Olai Tryggwæ Filii,”
Upsala, 1691, or Laing’s Sea-Kings of Norway, i. 367.
Footnote 487:
Adam Brem. ii. 32; Saxo, lib. x. p. 188. Swegen, already King, is
driven out by Eric of Sweden. To reconcile the chronology is hopeless.
Saxo calls the English King _Eadward_.
Footnote 488:
Chron. A. 980. “And þý ilcan geare wæs Legeceasterscír gehergod fram
norð scipherige.” Florence has, more distinctly, “Civitatis Legionum
provincia a Norwegensibus piratis devastatur.” Northmen of all kinds
are often confounded under the name of Danes, but none but genuine
Norwegians are likely to be spoken of in this way. _Leicester_ here,
as often, is not the midland Leicester, but Chester.
Footnote 489:
Chron. and Fl. Wig. in anno. “Goda se Defenisca þegen” was killed,
according to the Chronicles. Florence calls him “satrapa Domnaniæ.”
Satrapa seems to be sometimes used as a formal title inferior to
Ealdorman. See Cod. Dipl. iii. 356, where Leofsige is raised from the
rank of _satrapa_ to that of _dux_.
Footnote 490:
The Chronicles give no names; Florence mentions Justin and Guthmund;
but the treaty presently to be mentioned, gives the name of Olaf as
well.
Footnote 491:
The original Old-English text is printed in Thorpe’s Analecta
Anglo-Saxonica, p. 131; there is a modern English translation in
Conybeare’s Illustrations of Anglo-Saxon poetry, xc. The poem, of
which unfortunately the beginning and ending are lost, is evidently
local and contemporary. I therefore do not hesitate to accept the main
facts of the battle and the names of the actors as trustworthy, much
more trustworthy than if they were found in a Latin prose chronicle a
century or two later. The speeches, no doubt, are, like most speeches
in history, the invention of the poet.
Footnote 492:
The church, a massive Romanesque building, may not unlikely have been
raised, like so many other churches on battle-fields, to commemorate
the event.
Footnote 493:
“Þa he hæfde þæt folc
fægre getrymmed,
he lihte þa mid leodon,
þær him leofost wæs,
þær he his heorð-werod
holdost wiste.” (Thorpe, p. 132.)
This “heorð-werod” or _hearth company_ are the personal following or
_comitatus_ (see above, p. 86) of the chief; to their exploits the
poem is chiefly devoted. This battle of Maldon, like all our battles,
will be found to contain many details leading to the illustration of
the last and greatest battle on Senlac.
Footnote 494:
William of Malmesbury says of Harold (iii. 241), “Rex ipse pedes juxta
vexillum stabat cum fratribus, ut, in commune periculo æquato, nemo de
fuga cogitaret.” So Brihtnoth bids his men form a firm rank with the
“board-wall” or line of shields;
“Hu hi sceoldon standan,
And þone stede healdan,
And bæd þæt hyra randan
Rihte heoldon
Fæste mid folmum,
And ne forhtedon na.” (p. 132.)
Mr. Conybeare mistook the meaning of the passage and the tactics of
the English army when he translated “and þone _stede_ healdan,” “how
to guide their _steeds_.” It means “how to hold their _stead_ or
place.”
The English habit of fighting on foot is noticed with some
exaggeration in the earliest description of our nation; ἄλκιμοι δέ
εἰσι πάντων μάλιστα βαρβάρων ὧν ἡμεῖς ἴσμεν οἱ νησιῶται οὗτοι, ἔς τε
τὰς ξυμβολὰς, πεζοὶ ἴασιν· οὐ γὰρ ὅσον εἰσὶ τοῦ ἱππεύειν ἀμελέτητοι,
ἀλλ’ οὐδὲ ἵππον ὅ τι ποτέ ἐστιν ἐπίστασθαι σφίσι ξυμβαίνει, κ.τ.λ.
Prokopios, Bell. Goth. iv. 20.
Footnote 495:
The only other Maccus whom I know anything of is the Under-king of
Man, who was one of the princes who rowed Eadgar on the Dee. But what
could he, or any one of his family or nation, be doing in the
_comitatus_ of an Ealdorman of the East-Saxons?
Footnote 496:
Compare however the discussion among the revolted Karians as to
crossing the Maiandros. Herod. v. 118. Compare on the other hand the
challenge to cross the Wear given by Edward the Third to the Scots in
1327. Froissart, i. c. xix. (vol. i. p. 20. ed. 1559); Longman, Edward
III. i. 14. So the Parthians and Antonius, Plut. Ant. 49.
Footnote 497:
The weapon of close fight at Maldon, as at Brunanburh, was on both
sides the sword. The Danish axe had not yet been introduced into
England, and as late as Stamfordbridge Harold Hardrada wielded the
sword. The _bill_ is twice mentioned, and it is put into the hand of
Brihtnoth himself; but it is plain that the bill here spoken of was a
sword and not an axe;
“Ða Byrhtnoð bræd
Bill of sceðe,
Brád and brún-ecg.” (p. 136.)
Earlier in the poem the defensive and offensive weapons of the English
appear distinctly as “Bord and brád swurd.” The early use of the
epithet “brown” applied to a sword, common in later ballads, should be
noticed.
Footnote 498:
The likeness struck Mr. Conybeare strongly, p. lxxxviii.
Footnote 499:
So I understand the lines,
“Wende þæs for-moni man
Þa he on meare rád,
On wlancan þam wicge,
Þæt wære hit ure hlaford.” (p. 138.)
Compare the flight of the French serving-boys on their masters’ horses
at the approach of Chandos in 1369. Froissart, c. cclxxvii. (i. 383,
384); Longman, Edward III. ii. 167.
Footnote 500:
“Forþan wearð her on felda
Folc totwæmed,
Scyld-burh tobrocen.” (p. 138.)
Footnote 501:
So says the Ely History (ii. 6), which, on such a point, may be
trusted. The Abbot supplied the loss with a mass of wax.
Footnote 502:
Is this Ælfwine a son of the banished Ealdorman Ælfric? “Ælfwine
minister,” occasionally, but not very commonly, signs charters about
this time.
Footnote 503:
So I understand the passage, as does Mr. Conybeare. But we have no
mention of any inroad of this army into Northumberland.
Footnote 504:
Ammianus, xvi. 12. “Comites ejus, ducenti numero, et tres amici
junctissimi, flagitium arbitrati post regem vivere vel pro rege non
mori, si ita tulerit casus.” In this case, the King having
surrendered, they “tradidere se vinciendos.”
Footnote 505:
Fl. Wig. A. 991. “Utrinque infinita multitudine cæsa, ipse dux
occubuit, Danica vero fortuna vicit.” The Ely historian tries hard to
turn the battle into a victory.
Footnote 506:
See her life in Bæda, iv. 19, 20.
Footnote 507:
The Ely History (ii. 3) gives the legend. With the slight improvement
of painting Ælfthryth as a witch, it is the story of Joseph and
Zuleikha, or of Bellerophontês and Anteia, over again, with such
changes as were needed when the tale was transferred from a married
woman to a widow. It should be remembered that Ælfthryth’s first
husband Æthelwold seems to have been a nephew of Brihtnoth.
Footnote 508:
Hist. El. ii. 7. “Torquem auream, et cortinam [curtain] gestis viri
sui intextam atque depositam, depictam in memoriam probitatis ejus,
huic ecclesiæ donavit.” See Palgrave, Eng. Com. ii. ccccvi; Lingard,
i. 278.
Footnote 509:
The Chronicles say expressly, “On þam geare man gerædde ƿæt man geald
_ærest_ gafol Deniscum mannum,” &c. But there is a curious piece of
evidence to show that the possibility of such a measure was thought of
long before. In the will of King Eadred in the Liber de Hyda, p. 153,
he leaves sixteen hundred pounds “to þan þæt hi mege magan hu[n]gor
_and hæþenne here him fram aceapian, gif hie beþurfen_.” The
manuscript seems to be very corrupt, but there can be no doubt as to
the meaning. The words are left out in the Latin and later English
versions which follow.
Footnote 510:
Fl. Wig. A. 990. “Clericis a Cantuaria proturbatis, monachos induxit.”
Footnote 511:
See the preamble to the Peace in Thorpe, i. 284. Cf. Chron. and Fl.
Wig. 991. The Chronicle mentions only the Archbishop, not the
Ealdormen.
Footnote 512:
See above, p. 264, and Appendix CC.
Footnote 513:
I do not know where Æthelweard’s ealdormanship lay. If this Ælfric was
Ealdorman of the Mercians, it is clear that his government would be
directly threatened by an enemy who had probably had possession of a
large part of East-Anglia and Essex.
Footnote 514:
See the Treaty in Thorpe, i. 284; Schmid, 204; and Appendix DD.
Footnote 515:
Chron. in anno. “Þa gerædde se cyning and ealle his witan.” So
Florence; “Consilio jussuque regis Anglorum Ægelredi procerumque
suorum.”
Footnote 516:
His name is Ælf_stan_ both in the Chronicles and in Florence, through
some confusion with a predecessor of that name, who died in 981.
Footnote 517:
See Appendix FF. Thored in the Chronicle is _Eorl_, Ælfric is
_Ealdorman_. This distinction clearly marks out Thored as of Danish
birth, or as holding a government within the Danish part of England.
Footnote 518:
Ammianus, xxvii. 8. “Lundinium vetus oppidum, quod Augustam posteritas
appellavit.” xxviii. 3. “Ab Augusta profectus, quam veteres
appellavere Lundinium.” He however himself elsewhere (xx. 1) speaks of
“Lundinium” without any addition. The popular name of London survived
the official name of Augusta, just as Sikyôn survived Dêmêtrias, as
Mantineia survived Antigoneia, as Jerusalem survived Ælia Capitolina.
Footnote 519:
Tac. Ann. xiv. 33. On the origin of London, see Guest, Archæological
Journal, 1866, No. xci. p. 159. Cf. Vita S. Bon., Pertz, ii. 338.
“Pervenit ad locum ubi erat forum rerum venalium, et usque hodie
antiquo Anglorum Saxonumque vocabulo appellatur Lundenwich.”
Footnote 520:
Bæda, Eccl. Hist. ii. 3.
Footnote 521:
Chron. 896. On the probability that the present Tower occupies the
site of a fortress of Ælfred, see Mr. Earle’s note, p. 310.
Footnote 522:
Thorpe, Laws and Inst. i. 228; Kemble, Saxons in England, ii. 521.
Footnote 523:
Instituta Lundoniæ, Thorpe, i. 300.
Footnote 524:
Thorpe, i. 300; Lappenberg, Gesch. des hansischen Stahlhofes, p. 5.
The great privilege of the “homines Imperatoris, qui veniebant in
navibus suis,” seems to have been that they were, with certain
exceptions, allowed to buy and sell on board their own ships, which
doubtless exempted them from certain tolls to which others were
liable.
Footnote 525:
See W. Malms. i. 93. Cf. above, p. 38.
Footnote 526:
Thorpe, i. 300. “Homines Imperatoris, qui veniebant in navibus suis,
bonarum legum digni tenebantur, sicut et nos.”
Footnote 527:
See Appendix AA.
Footnote 528:
So it stands in the English version of the Brut y Tywysogion, in anno;
“And Maredudd, son of Owain, paid to the Black Pagans a tribute of one
penny for each person.” But in the Annales Cambriæ the transaction
takes the milder form of a redemption of captives; “Maredut redemit
captivos a gentilibus nigris, nummo pro unoquoque dato.”
Footnote 529:
His own dominions are described (Brut, 991) as Dyfed, Ceredigion,
Gower, and Cydweli, answering to the modern counties of Pembroke,
Cardigan, Caermarthen, and part of Glamorgan. In 985 he conquered Mona
or Anglesey, Merioneth, and Gwynedd generally.
Footnote 530:
He is called Owen, Guyn, and Etwin. Was this last name borrowed from
the English Eadwine? His English ally appears in the Brut as “Eclis
the Great, a Saxon prince from the seas of the south.” The Annals call
him Edelisi, that is, doubtless Æthelsige. See Appendix AA.
Footnote 531:
Brut y Tywysogion, 991. “Maredudd hired the pagans willing to join
him.”
Footnote 532:
On Æthelred’s relations with Normandy see Appendix EE.
Footnote 533:
This is the conjecture of Lappenberg, ii. 153, Eng. Tr.
Footnote 534:
Will. Malms, ii. 166. “Et de hominibus regis vel inimicis suis nullum
Ricardus recipiat, neque rex de suis, sine sigillo eorum.” _Sigillum_
does not necessarily imply a seal in the later sense; a signature of
any kind is enough.
Footnote 535:
See above, p. 269.
Footnote 536:
Chron. in anno. “Ac seo halige Godes modor on þam dæge hire
mildheortnesse þære burhware gecydde, and hi ahredde wið heora
feondum.” A good deal of the simple earnestness of the English is lost
in Florence’s Latin, “Dei suæque genetricis Mariæ juvamine.”
Footnote 537:
Flor. Wig. “Furore simul et tristitia exasperati.”
Footnote 538:
It would, I imagine, be very hard to find out the exact point in Olaf
Tryggvesson’s life when, according to his Saga (c. xiii.), he made
expeditions in Britain, Ireland, and Scotland, attacking the heathen
and keeping peace with the Christians. It would be hardly more
difficult to identify the daughter of an Irish King and widow of an
English Ealdorman, whom Olaf marries in the next chapter. See above,
p. 269.
Footnote 539:
I conceive this to be the distinction intended by Florence, when he
says “de tota West-Saxonia _stippendium_ dabatur [“and hi mon þær
_fedde_ geond eall Westseaxena rice,” say the Chronicles]; de tota
vero Anglia _tributum_, quod erat xvi. millia librarum, dependebatur.”
Footnote 540:
The confirmation of Olaf implies his previous baptism, and thereby
remarkably confirms that part of the legend. But Adam of Bremen (ii.
34) has two quite different accounts, according to one of which Olaf
learned Christianity in England for the first time, while, according
to the other, he was converted in Norway by English missionaries. The
one point in which all versions agree is to connect his conversion
with England in some shape or other.
Footnote 541:
Ann. Camb.; Brut y Tywysogion, 994.
Footnote 542:
See Thietmar, iv. 16; Adam Brem. ii. 29.
Footnote 543:
The charters of this year in the Codex Diplomaticus (iii. 284, 286,
and 288), one of King Æthelred and two of Æscwig, Bishop of
Dorchester, belong to a meeting before the death of Sigeric, by whom
they were signed. Those of the same year at pp. 281 and 290, which
Ælfric signs as Archbishop-elect, must belong to a later meeting,
probably that at which he was elected. He was consecrated next year
(Chron. and Fl. Wig.). Had he held the bishopric of Ramsbury without
consecration?
Footnote 544:
So the Chronicles, but only in the late Canterbury manuscript (Cott.
Domit. A. viii.). This fact however is probably authentic; but what
can be made of the story of Ælfric driving out the seculars from
Christ Church, where Sigeric had already brought in monks? See above,
p. 278.
Footnote 545:
See Bæda, Eccl. Hist. iv. 27, and the prose and verse lives of Saint
Cuthberht in his Opera Historica Minora, pp. 3, 49. Also Sim. Dun.,
Eccl. Dun. lib. ii. c. 6, et seqq. (X Scriptt. 13).
Footnote 546:
Flor. Wig. 995.
Footnote 547:
Sim. Dun., Hist. Dun. iii. 2. “Comitans sanctissimi patris Cuthberti
corpus universus populus in Dunelmum, locum quidem natura munitum, sed
non facile habitabilem invenit, quoniam densissima undique silva totum
occupaverat.” Compare the description of Durham given by William of
Malmesbury, De Gest. Pont. p. 270, ed. Hamilton; “Dunelmum est collis,
ab una vallis planitie paullatim et molli clivo turgescens in tumulum;
et licet situ edito et prærupto rupium omnem aditum excludat hostium,
tamen ibi moderni collibus imposuerunt castellum.” He then goes on to
speak of the river and its fish. See also the Old-English poem on
Durham printed at p. 153 of the Surtees edition of Simeon, and which
is referred to by Simeon himself in his History of the Church of
Durham, iii. 7. William also might seem to have had the poem before
him.
Footnote 548:
A still closer parallel, though on a far smaller scale, may be found
in Ireland in the ruined cathedral and archiepiscopal fortress which
crown the famous rock of Cashel. Only at Sitten the church and the
castle are on two distinct heights, as if Cashel and Glastonbury were
set side by side.
Footnote 549:
Cod. Dipl. iii. 299.
Footnote 550:
Cod. Dipl. iii. 302. “Collecta haud minima sapientum multitudine in
aula villæ regiæ quæ nuncupative a populis et [æt?] Calnæ vocitatur.
Ac sic paucis interpositis ymeris [_himeris_, ἡμέραις] rursus advocata
_omnis exercitus_, caterva pontificum, abbatum, ducum, optimatum
nobiliumque quamplurimorum ad villam quæ ab indigenis Wanetincg
agnominatur,” &c. &c. The whole passage is remarkable and valuable.
Footnote 551:
Thorpe, i. 280; Schmid, 198. The Wantage laws are said specially to be
“æfter Engla lage.”
Footnote 552:
So Schmid, p. li. The use of the word _Wapentake_, a division confined
to the North, and the special mention of the Five Boroughs, seem quite
to bear out this conjecture.
Footnote 553:
“On _Norð_walum,” say the Chronicles; so in Florence
“_septemtrionalem_ Britanniam.” These phrases do not mean _North
Wales_ as opposed to South, still less _North Britain_, in the sense
of Scotland, but simply what we now call Wales as opposed to Cornwall.
The part ravaged was doubtless the northern coast of the Bristol
Channel.
Footnote 554:
Cod. Dipl. iii. 311.
Footnote 555:
That is, if we may trust the doubtful charters in Cod. Dipl. iii. 309,
311.
Footnote 556:
Cod. Dipl. iii. 306. See above, p. 267.
Footnote 557:
See the Chronicles (followed by Florence) for the years 998 and 999. I
have worked the two descriptions together.
Footnote 558:
For the suggestion of the general line of thought in this paragraph I
am indebted to Lappenberg, ii, 161.
Footnote 559:
See above, p. 104. Compare the practice of the Frankish Assemblies,
Waitz, iii. 508.
Footnote 560:
Compare on this head a remarkable passage of William of Malmesbury,
ii. 165. “Verumtamen multa mihi cogitanti mirum videtur cur homo, ut a
majoribus accepimus, neque multum fatuus, neque nimis ignavus, in tam
tristi pallore tot calamitatum vitam consumpserit. Cujus rei caussam
si quis me interroget, non facile respondeam; nisi ducum defectionem,
ex superbia regis prodeuntem.” This hardly goes to the root of the
matter; but William’s perplexity clearly shows that the traditional
character of Æthelred did not paint him as a mere idiot, but as a man
with the capacity, though only the bare capacity, for better things.
See also Palgrave’s Hist. of England and Normandy, iii. 103.
Footnote 561:
Such I understand to be the object of the departure of the Danish
fleet. The Chronicles and Florence are quite colourless. “Se unfrið
flota wæs ðæs sumeres gewend to Ricardes rice.” “Danorum classis
præfata hoc anno Nortmanniam petit.” But Roger of Wendover (i. 434)
inserts the qualification “hostiliter,” which is followed by
Lappenberg (429. Eng. Tr. ii. 161). On this whole matter see Appendix
EE.
Footnote 562:
On this Cumbrian expedition see Appendix FF.
Footnote 563:
See above, p. 291.
Footnote 564:
See above, p. 63.
Footnote 565:
See Appendix EE.
Footnote 566:
See Appendix SS.
Footnote 567:
See above, p. 253.
Footnote 568:
On this marriage and its results see the opening of the sixth book of
Henry of Huntingdon. He clearly sees the connexion of events, and he
as clearly believes that William’s kindred with Emma gave him some
right to the English crown. “Ex hac conjunctione regis Anglorum et
filiæ ducis Normannorum, Angliam juste, secundum jus gentium, Normanni
et calumniati sunt et adepti sunt.” This is perhaps the strangest
theory of international law on record.
Footnote 569:
Herod. v. 97. αὗται δὲ αἱ νέες ἀρχὴ κακῶν ἐγένοντο Ἕλλησί τε καὶ
βαρβάροισι.
Footnote 570:
No writer mentions this but Geoffrey Gaimar (4126. M. H. B. 814), who
is followed by Sir F. Palgrave (iii. 109). Henry of Huntingdon (M. H.
B. 751 E) and Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 362) distinctly make him
send messengers. The statement of the Chronicles, which of course
would be decisive, is less distinct, but it looks the same way; “And
ða ón ðam ilcan lenctene com seo hlæfdige, Ricardes dohtor, hider to
lande.” “And on ðysan ylcan geare, on lencten, com Ricardes dohtor
Ymma hider to lande.”
Footnote 571:
I cannot answer positively for Harold the son of Cnut, but we shall
come across evidence which makes it probable that he visited Denmark.
Footnote 572:
Chron. 855, and Florence (after Asser) more at length.
Footnote 573:
Greg. Turon. iv. 26; Bæda, i. 25.
Footnote 574:
See the section on Nomenclature in vol. v. p. 556.
Footnote 575:
Flor. Wig. A. 1002. “Eodem anno Emmam, _Saxonice_ Ælfgivam vocatam,
ducis Nortmannorum primi Ricardi filiam, rex Ægelredus duxit uxorem.”
On the use of the word “Saxonice” see Appendix A. On the name Ælfgifu
see vol. ii. Appendix BB, and vol. iii. Appendix S.
The Lady signs a great number of charters during the reigns of her
husbands and sons by the name of Ælfgifu (in various spellings).
“Emma” is rare, but we find it in Cod. Dipl. iv. 1; iv. 64; vi. 172,
and once “Ælfgyfa Imma,” iv. 101. Of a charter of 997 (Cod. Dipl. iii.
299), where “Ælfgyua Ymma regina” makes a grant to Christ Church, I
can make nothing. Mr. Kemble does not mark it as spurious, but the
date shows that there is something wrong about it.
Footnote 576:
Geoffrey Gaimar (4138. M. H. B. 815), who is followed by Sir F.
Palgrave (iii. 110), gives her as “drurie” or “dowaire,” Rockingham,
Rutland, and the city of Winchester itself. In the course of our story
we shall find both Emma and her successor Eadgyth specially connected
with Winchester, and we shall also find that Emma unhappily possessed
the city of Exeter or some rights over it.
Footnote 577:
Eadgar the Ætheling was elected in 1066, but never crowned.
Footnote 578:
Will. Malms. ii. 165. “Etiam in uxorem adeo protervus erat ut vix eam
cubili dignaretur, sed cum pellicibus volutatus regiam majestatem
infamaret. Illa quoque conscientiam alti sanguinis spirans in maritum
tumebat.”
I cannot light on Sir Francis Palgrave’s authority for making Emma fly
back to Normandy within a year or two after her marriage (iii. III).
Footnote 579:
Will. Malms. ii. 177.
Footnote 580:
I have here tried to put together the account in the Winchester
Chronicle (C.C.C.C. clxxiii.), which alone mentions Pallig and the
Hampshire campaign, with the account of the operations in Devonshire
given in the other versions. Æthelingadene has been taken for Alton in
Hampshire, but the name Æthelingadene would hardly become Alton, and
the place is in Sussex. See Cod. Dipl. iii. 324.
Footnote 581:
The men of higher rank are commonly foremost. See above, p. 274.
Compare the battle of Strassburg in Ammianus (xvi. 12). “Exsiluit
subito ardens optimatium globus, inter quos decernebant et reges, et
sequente vulgo inter alios agmina nostrorum irrupit.”
Footnote 582:
Their descriptions, as given in the Winchester Chronicle, are worth
noticing. There is Wulfhere the Bishop’s Thegn, and two other thegns
who are called from their dwelling-places, Leofric æt Hwitciricean
(Whitchurch) and Godwine æt Worðige (Worthy Martyr), Bishop Ælfsige’s
son. This is Ælfsige, Bishop of Winchester, who was translated to
Canterbury in 950, but died of the cold on the Alps on his way to Rome
to get his pallium. (Flor. Wig. 959.)
Footnote 583:
See Mr. Earle’s note on the Chronicles, p. 334.
Footnote 584:
I get this from the words of the Winchester Chronicle, which mentions
one part of the story only, combined with those of Florence, who
mentions only the other part. The Winchester writer mentions the
campaign in Hampshire, the treason of Pallig, the burning of Teignton,
the peace, and adds, “and hy foran þa þanon tó Exanmuðan.” Florence
has, “Memoratus paganorum exercitus, de Normannia Angliam revectus,
ostium fluminis Eaxæ ingreditur.” This seems to be a satisfactory way
of explaining it. The other Chronicles have simply, “Her com _se here_
to Exanmuðan.”
Footnote 585:
The language of the Chronicles is remarkable. The fleet comes to
Exmouth, “and eodon þa up to þære byrig.” There was no need to mention
what borough. But Florence adds “urbem Exanceastram.”
Footnote 586:
See W. Malms. ii. 134; Palgrave, English Commonwealth, i. 463.
Footnote 587:
Mr. Kerslake very ingeniously traced out the boundary between the
English and Welsh parts of Exeter in a paper read at the Exeter
meeting of the Archæological Institute in 1873. The Welsh quarter,
which lies to the north, is marked by the dedication of the churches
within it to Welsh saints.
Footnote 588:
Thorpe, i. 220, 228; Schmid, 152, 156.
Footnote 589:
W. Malms. u. s. “Urbem igitur illam, quam contaminatæ gentis repurgio
defæcaverat, turribus munivit, muro ex quadratis lapidibus cinxit.”
Eadward the Elder had before fortified Towcester with a stone wall
(“lapideo muro,” Fl. Wig. 918), but the wall of Exeter is distinctly
said to have been of squared stone. The difference between a hedge and
a wall was known ages before, when Ida fortified Bamburgh. “Sy wæs
ærost mid hegge betined, and þær æfter mid wealle” (Chron. 547); but
this “wall” need not have been of stone.
In short our accounts help us to four stages in the history of
fortification. First, the hedge or palisade; secondly, the wall of
earth, or of earth and rough stones combined; thirdly, the wall of
masonry, as at Towcester; fourthly, the wall of squared stones, as at
Exeter. The fifth stage, the Norman Castle, does not appear till the
reign of Eadward the Confessor.
Footnote 590:
Chron. in anno. “Þær fæstlice feohtende wæron, ac him man swyðe
fæstlice wiðstod and heardlice.”
Footnote 591:
Fl. Wig. in anno. “Dum murum illius destruere moliretur, a civibus
urbem viriliter defendentibus repellitur [paganorum exercitus].”
Footnote 592:
Ib. “Unde nimis exasperatos more solito,” &c.
Footnote 593:
“Æt Peonnho” in the Chronicles; there seems no reason to doubt that
this is the place.
Footnote 594:
Fl. Wig. in anno. “Angli pro militum paucitate Danorum multitudinem
non ferentes.”
Footnote 595:
Cod. Dipl. iii. 318. “Talibus mandatorum Christi sententiis a meis
frequentius præmonitus consiliariis, et ab ipso summo omnium largitore
bonorum dirissimis hostium graviter nos depopulantium creberrime
angustiatus flagellis, ego Æðelredus rex Anglorum [an unusually lowly
style], ut supradictæ merear particeps fore promissionis, quoddam
Christo et sancto suo, germano scilicet meo, Eadwardo, quem proprio
cruore perfusum per multiplicia virtutum signa, ipse Dominus nostris
mirificare dignatus est temporibus,” &c. &c. So afterwards, “quatenus
adversus barbarorum insidias ipsa religiosa congregatio cum beati
martyris cæterorumque sanctorum reliquiis,” &c., and “adepto
postmodum, si Dei misericordia ita providerit, pacis tempore.” The
observance of Eadward’s mass-day was ordered in 1008.
Footnote 596:
Cod. Dipl. vi. 140.
Footnote 597:
Ib. iii. 322. Ælfthryth could not have been dead very long, as she
signs the charter of 999, in Cod. Dipl. iii. 312.
Footnote 598:
So William of Malmesbury, ii. 165; “Exagitabant illum umbræ fraternæ,
diras exigentes inferias.” Yet Æthelred had no share in the murder; he
only reaped, quite unconsciously, the advantage of his mother’s crime.
Footnote 599:
The joint action of the King and the Witan is well marked in the
Chronicles; “Þa sende se cyning to þam flotan Leofsige ealdorman; and
he þa, þæs cyninges worde and his witena, grið wið hi gesette.”
Leofsige signs a charter of 997 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 304) as “Orientalium
Saxonum dux.” He probably succeeded Brihtnoth. See above, p. 270. We
find another mention of him in Cod. Dipl. vi. 129.
Footnote 600:
Chron. and Fl. in anno. See also Cod. Dipl. iii. 356, where the story
is told. Æfic was “dish-thegn” to the young Æthelings. See Cod. Dipl.
iii. 293. He had a brother Eadwine or Eadwig, mentioned in the same
will, of whom we shall hear again. In Cod. Dipl. iii. 356 Æthelred
calls him “præfectus meus, quem primatem inter primates meos taxavi.”
Footnote 601:
Cod. Dipl. iii. 356. “Inii consilium cum sapientibus regni mei petens,
ut quid fieri placuisset de illo decernerent, placuitque in communes
nobis eum exsulare et extorrem a nobis fieri cum complicibus suis.”
Leofsige’s lands, after some difficulties on the part of his widowed
sister Æthelflæd, who was herself banished, were granted in 1012 to
Godwine, Bishop of Rochester, as personal property. There must be a
mistake when “Leofsige ealdorman” signs a doubtful charter as late as
1006. Cod. Dipl. iii. 351.
Footnote 602:
“On þam ilcan lenctene.” I do not know why Mr. Thorpe translates it
“autumn.”
Footnote 603:
To this meeting belongs the grant to the Thegn Godwine (Cod. Dipl. vi.
143), as it is signed by “Ælfgifu conlaterana regis.” But the
following document (No. 1297) belongs to an earlier meeting, I suspect
to an intermediate one. This year Eadwulf Archbishop of York died and
was succeeded by Wulfstan Bishop of London, not Abbot Wulfstan, as
Florence has it. Now the Charter quoted above (Cod. Dipl. iii. 322) is
signed by Eadwulf and by Wulfstan as Bishop. This of course belongs to
the first meeting. The Charter to Godwine, which the Lady signs, is
also signed by Wulfstan as Archbishop. But No. 1297 (Cod. Dipl. vi.
145) is signed by Wulfstan as Bishop, and not by Eadwulf. This seems
to point to an intermediate Gemót, held while the see of York was
vacant, and at which Wulfstan was probably nominated to it.
Footnote 604:
On the details of the massacre, see Appendix GG.
Footnote 605:
See Appendix GG.
Footnote 606:
See above, p. 280.
Footnote 607:
Florence mentions him at Exeter, the Chronicles not till later in the
year, but they seem to take him for granted.
Footnote 608:
The Chronicles have, “her was Exanceaster abrocen þunruh þone
Franciscan _ceorl_ Hugan, ðe seo hlæfdige hire hæfde geset to
gerefan.” But Florence has, “per _insilium_, incuriam, et traditionem
Nortmannici _comitis_ Hugonis, quem regina Emma Domnaniæ præfecit.”
Henry of Huntingdon (752 B) says, “Hugonem Normannum, quem ibi regina
Emma vicecomitem [gerefan?] statuerat, in perniciem compegerunt.”
Florence seems to have read _eorl_ where our copies of the Chronicles
have _ceorl_; also he seems to make Hugh Ealdorman of Devonshire,
while in the Chronicles he is only reeve of Exeter. The “Frenchmen” of
the Chronicles may always be Normans or not; most likely Hugh was a
Norman.
The “_in_silium” of Florence is an attempt to express in Latin the
negative form “unræd.” See above, p. 261.
Footnote 609:
Flor. Wig. “Civitatem Exanceastram infregit, spoliavit, murum ab
orientali usque ad occidentalem portam destruxit.” This does not imply
the complete destruction of the city. But Henry of Huntingdon says,
“urbem totam funditus destruxerunt,” which is doubtless an
exaggeration.
Footnote 610:
“Alfricus dux supra memoratus” says Florence; it is clear that this is
Ælfric, the traitor of 992.
Footnote 611:
See above, p. 280.
Footnote 612:
Chron. 1003. “Þa gebræd he hine seocne, and ongan he hine brecan to
spiwenne, and cwæð þæt he gesicled wære.”
Footnote 613:
Like Lydiadas at Ladokeia and Philopoimên at Sellasia. See Hist. Fed.
Gov. i. 450, 497.
Footnote 614:
Flor. Wig. “A suis inimicis sine pugna divertit mœstissimus.” The
Chronicles, and after them Florence and Henry, quote a proverb, “Þonne
se heretoga wacað, þonne bið eall se here swiðe gehindred.”
Footnote 615:
See many passages in Grote’s History of Greece, especially the remarks
on the death of Epameinôndas; x. 477.
Footnote 616:
Il. xx. 216;
κτίσσε δὲ Δαρδανίην, ἐπεὶ οὔπω Ἴλιος ἱρὴ
ἐν πεδίῳ πεπόλιστο, πόλις μερόπων ἀνθρώπων,
ἀλλ’ ἔθ’ ὑπωρείας ᾤκεον πολυπιδάκου Ἴδης.
Πολυπίδακος however would be the most inappropriate of epithets for
Old Sarum, which, in the days of its greatness, was “well provided
otherwise of all commodities, but wanted water so unreasonably as (a
strange kind of merchandise) it was there to be sold.” (Godwin,
translating William of Malmesbury, Gest. Pont. p. 183.)
Footnote 617:
The Chronicler here, though writing in prose, gets poetical, and calls
the ships “horses of the wave”—“þær he wiste his yð hengestas.”
Footnote 618:
On Ulfcytel, see Appendix HH.
Footnote 619:
Chron. in anno. “Þa gerædde Ulfcytel wið þa witan on East-Englum.”
Flor. Wig. “Cum majoribus East-Angliæ habito concilio.” See Kemble,
ii. 257.
Footnote 620:
So I understand the narrative in the Chronicles, which seems to imply
that the measures of Ulfcytel were taken as soon as the Danes began
their march, but before they reached Thetford, while Florence does not
mention Ulfcytel as doing anything till after he hears of the burning
of the town.
Footnote 621:
I modernize the words of the Chronicles. “Swa hi sylfe sædon, þæt hi
næfre wyrsan handplegan on Angelcynne ne gemetton, þonne Ulfcytel him
to brohte.” So Florence, “ut enim ipsi testati sunt, durius et
asperius bellum in Anglia numquam experti sunt quam illis dux Ulfketel
intulerat.” Cf. Will. Malms. ii. 165.
Footnote 622:
Chron. in anno. “Þær wearð East-Engla folces seo _yld_ [_yldesta_]
ofslægan.” See on the sense of this word and its cognates, p. 75.]
Footnote 623:
Cod. Dipl. iii. 339; vi. 152.
Footnote 624:
On the rise of Eadric, see Appendix II.
Footnote 625:
On Wulfgeat, see Appendix II.
Footnote 626:
See Appendix KK.
Footnote 627:
“Id est Oppidi Canis,” says Florence. Perhaps Godwine was only a
_butcher_, as Lappenberg makes him. This is the more usual mediæval
sense of _Carnifex_, but the surname sounds as if he were an official
person.
Footnote 628:
I give this story a place in the text with fear and trembling. Did it
not rest on the authority of Florence, I should at once cast it aside
as legendary. The hunting-party has a very mythical sound, being in
fact part of the legend of Eadgar and Ælfthryth. (Cf. Dio, lxix. 2; ὡς
ἐν θήρᾳ δῆθεν ἐπιβεβουλευκότες αὐτῷ.) And one might be a little
suspicious as to Eadric’s position at Shrewsbury. Why should Eadric be
more at home there than Ælfhelm? The teller of the tale might almost
seem to have looked on Eadric as already Ealdorman of the Mercians,
and as therefore naturally called on to receive his Northumbrian
brother in one of the chief towns of his government. But for Florence
to insert, like William of Malmesbury, a mere piece of a ballad
without even the attraction of a miracle, is most unlikely. Florence,
as I shall presently show, is not infallible, but few writers are less
given to romance. I therefore accept the story, though I do not feel
perfect confidence in it.
Footnote 629:
This story comes from a separate tract by Simeon of Durham on the
Earls of the Northumbrians (X Scriptt. 79). By some strange confusion,
it is there put under the year 979, the first year of Æthelred. If it
happened at all, it must have happened in this year, the only one
which suits the position of the King, Bishop, and Earl spoken of.
Ealdhun became Bishop in 990, and removed the see to Durham in 995.
Malcolm began to reign in 1004; a Northumbrian earldom became vacant
in 1006. This fixes the date. The authority of Simeon is, I think,
guaranty enough for the general truth of the story, and the silence of
the Chronicles and Florence is not conclusive as to a Northumbrian
matter. The story also derives some sort of confirmation from a
passage of Fordun (Scot. Hist. iv. 39, p. 683, Gale), which is very
vague and confused, but which at least implies warfare of some kind
between Malcolm and Uhtred. “Othredum itaque comitem Anglicum, sed
Danis subditum, cujus inter eos simultatis exortæ caussam nescio,
Cumbriam prædari conantem, receptis prædis, juxta Burgum bello
difficili superavit.”
Footnote 630:
See p. 292.
Footnote 631:
See Appendix KK.
Footnote 632:
The heads of the handsomest of the slain Scots, with their long
twisted hair, were exposed on the walls of Durham. They were
previously washed by four women, each of whom received a cow for her
pains. So at least says Simeon, p. 80.
Footnote 633:
See Appendix II.
Footnote 634:
Sim. Dun. p. 80. So J. Wallingford, 546.
Footnote 635:
Florence says, “Cum iis fortiter dimicare statuit;” but there are no
words exactly answering to them in the Chronicles.
Footnote 636:
So Florence, again without direct support from the Chronicles; “illi
cum eo palam confligere nullatenus voluerunt.”
Footnote 637:
See Mr. Earle’s note, p. 335.
Footnote 638:
Chron. “And se here com þa ofer þa Martines mæssan _to his fryðstole
Wihtlande_, ... and þa to þam middan wintran eodon him to _heora
gearwan feorme_, út þurh Hamtunscire into Bearrucscire to Readingon.”
So H. Hunt. M. H. B. 752 D. “Quæ parata erant hilariter comedentes.”
Footnote 639:
Chronn. “And wendon him ða _andlang_ Æscesdune to Cwichelmes hlæwe.”
It has been distinctly shown by Mr. James Parker that Æscesdún means
the whole ridge which the Danes marched along from the east to the
barrow at Cwichelmes hlæw. On the Scirgemót—was it not something more
than a mere Scirgemót?—at Cwichelmeshlæw, see Cod. Dipl. iii. 292. The
prophecy comes from the Chronicles; it is left out by Florence.
Footnote 640:
The Chronicler here becomes very emphatic and eloquent, setting down
no doubt what he had seen with his own eyes. Florence, harmonizing
eighty or ninety years after, is much briefer.
Footnote 641:
See Appendix II.
Footnote 642:
Thorpe, i. 304; Schmid, 220.
Footnote 643:
Cap. 2. “And úres hláfordes gerǽdnes and his witena is, þæt man
cristene menn and unforworhte of earde ne sylle, ne huru on hǽðene
leóde, ac beorge man geórne, þæt man þá sáwla ne forfare, þa Crist mid
his ágenum lífe gebohte.” The same practice is forbidden in the
Capitularies of Charles the Bald. See Waitz, iv. 288. So Smaragdus de
Via Regia, c. 30 (D’Achery, i. 253); “Prohibe ergo, clementissime rex,
ne in regno tuo captivitas fiat.”
Footnote 644:
The _witeðeow_ seems to be forbidden by a capitulary of Charles the
Great. Aquis, 813 (Pertz, iii. 189); “Ut vicarii eos qui pro furto se
in servitio tradere cupiunt non consentiant.”
Footnote 645:
This seems to be implied in the word _unforworhte_—in the Latin text
(Schmid, 237) _insontem_.
Footnote 646:
It occurs in nearly the same words in the Statute of Enham, c. 9, and
in the Laws of Cnut, Thorpe, i. 376.
Footnote 647:
Cap. 16 (Thorpe, i. 308). “And Sce Eâdwardes mæsse-dæg witan habbað
gecoren, þæt man freólsian sceal ofer eal Engla-land on xv. Kal.
Aprilis.” Mark the way in which the Witan, as a matter of course, pass
an ordinance on this matter, which a century or two later would have
been held to be a matter of purely ecclesiastical concern.
Footnote 648:
Cap. 34, 35. “Ealle we scylan ǽnne God lúfian and weorðian, and ǽnne
cristendóm georne healdan, and ælcne hǽðendóm mid ealle áweorpan.”
“And utan ǽnne cyne-hláford holdlíce healdan; and líf and land samod
ealle werian, swá wel swá we betst magan, and God ealmihtigne inwerdre
heortan fultumes biddan.”
Footnote 649:
Will. Malms. ii. 156.
Footnote 650:
See p. 280.
Footnote 651:
Cap. 27.
Footnote 652:
Cap. 28.
Footnote 653:
Cap. 26.
Footnote 654:
Thorpe, i. 314; Schmid, 226.
Footnote 655:
It is headed, “Be Witena gerǽdnessan.” The statute begins, “Ðis sindon
þá gerǽdnessa, þe Engla rǽd-gifan gecuran and gecwǽdan, and geornlice
lǽrdan, þæt man scolde healdan.” And many clauses begin, “And witena
gerǽdnes is.” Mr. Kemble (ii. 212) remarks, “If it were not for one or
two enactments referring to the safety of the royal person and the
dignity of the crown, we might be almost tempted to imagine that the
great councillors of state had met, during Æðelred’s flight from
England, and passed these laws upon their own authority, without the
King.”
This is possible, and even tempting, but on the whole I think they
must belong to the years 1007–9. The great importance given to naval
preparations seems distinctly to refer them to this time. After the
return of Æthelred from Normandy in 1014 we read of no attempt at
naval warfare.
Footnote 656:
See above, p. 52.
Footnote 657:
See Appendix LL.
Footnote 658:
Cod. Dipl. iii. 352.
Footnote 659:
On the ship-money see Mr. Bruce’s Prefaces to the Calendars of State
Papers for 1634–5, pp. xxv. et seqq., and for 1635, pp. x. et seqq.
Footnote 660:
Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 753 A.
Footnote 661:
Will. Gem. v. 7. But this writer makes Swegen sail to Northumberland
immediately after the massacre in 1002, whereas he did not go thither
till 1013. So it is impossible to fix the time to which the treaty
should be referred. William may have confounded York and Exeter, or
the treaty may belong to a time later than Swegen’s invasion of
Northumberland.
Footnote 662:
Will. Gem. v. 8; Roman de Rou, 6868.
Footnote 663:
I here follow the words of the Chronicles almost literally.
Footnote 664:
See Appendix HH.
Footnote 665:
See Appendix MM.
Footnote 666:
Chron. “And þohte þæt he him micles wordes wyrcan sæolde.”
Footnote 667:
“Þa ðis þus cuð wǽs tó þam oðerum scipum þær se cyng wǽs, hu ða oþre
geferdon, hit wæs þa swilc hit eall rædleas wǽre; and ferde sé cyning
him hám, and þá ealdormen and ða heahwitan, and forleton þa scipu ðús
leohtlice; and þæt folc þa þæt on ðam scipon wæron fercodon [þa scypo]
eft to Lundene, and leton ealles þeodscypes geswinc ðus leohtlice
fórwurðan, and næs sé sige na betere þe eall Angelcyn tó hopode.”
Footnote 668:
On the career and character of Thurkill, see Appendix NN.
Footnote 669:
See Chron. and Florence in anno, and cf. Appendix NN.
Footnote 670:
See above, p. 323.
Footnote 671:
“East-Centingas.” Chron.
Footnote 672:
That is, if Rochester, with the strange diocese which modern
arrangements have attached to it, can any longer be looked upon as a
Kentish bishopric.
Footnote 673:
Flor. 1009. “Rex ... multis millibus armatorum instructus, et, ut
totus erat exercitus, mori vel vincere paratus.” But the Chronicles
guarantee only the devotion of the army, not that of its leader.
Footnote 674:
The Chronicles say only “Ac hit wæs þa þuruh Eadric ealdorman gelet,
swa hit gyt æfre wæs.” Florence describes the meaning of this
“letting;” “Insidiis et perplexis orationibus ne prœlium inirent, sed
ea vice suos hostes abire permitterent, modis omnibus allaboravit.”
Footnote 675:
One can hardly conceive that the movements of the Danes were at all
regulated by Lent and Easter; yet the language of our authority seems
to imply it.
Footnote 676:
Chronn. in anno. The Danes are met by “Ulfcytel mid his fyrde.” We
then read, “sona flugon East-Engle. Þa stod Grantabricscir fæstlice
ongean.” The treason of Thurcytel and the names of the slain also come
from the Chronicles. Florence adds the name of the place, Ringmere,
which occurs also in the confused accounts in the Sagas. See Appendix
HH and TT.
Footnote 677:
See Appendix SS.
Footnote 678:
See above, p. 314.
Footnote 679:
See Appendix OO.
Footnote 680:
“Man,” according to the familiar German idiom; it is impossible to
modernize the English without it, unless the whole force were to be
lost.
Footnote 681:
_Heafodman_ = _Captain_, like the German _Hauptmann_.
Footnote 682:
“And þonne hi tó scipon ferdon, þonne sceolde fyrd ut éft ongean þæt
hi up woldan; þonne ferde seo fyrd ham, and þonne bí wæron be easton
þonne heold man fyrde be westan, and þonne hí wæron be suðan, þonne
wæs ure fyrd be norðan. Þonne bead man eallan witan to cynge, and man
sceolde þonne rædan hu man þisne eard werian sceolde. Ac þeah mon
þonne hwæt rædde, þæt ne stód furðon ænne monað. Æt nextan næs nan
heafodman þet fyrde gaderian wolde, ac ælc fleah swa hí mæst mihte, ne
furðon nan scír nolde oþre gelæstan æt nextan.”
Footnote 683:
The Chronicles and Florence give the names. William of Malmesbury,
though professing to be at least half an Englishman, is too dainty to
copy the uncouth names of English shires. “Cum numerentur in Anglia
triginta duo pagi, illi jam sedecim invaserant, _quorum nomina propter
barbariem linguæ scribere refugio_.” (ii. 165.)
Footnote 684:
The Chronicles reckon Hastings, “Hæstingas,” as distinct from Sussex.
Footnote 685:
Chron. and Flor. Wig. in anno. Thietmar, who, for a time, becomes an
authority of some value, is amusing in the way in which he brings in
English affairs (vii. 26, ap. Pertz, iii. 847). “Audivi sæpius numero,
Anglos, ab angelica facie, id est pulcra, sive quod in angulo istius
terræ siti sunt, dictos, ineffabilem miseriam a Sueino, Haraldi filio,
immiti Danorum rege, perpessos esse, et ad id coactos, ut qui prius
tributarii erant principis apostolorum Petri ac sancti patris eorum
Gregorii spirituales filii, immundis canibus impositum sibi censum
quotannis solverent, et maximam regni suimet partem, capto ac
interemto habitatore, tunc hosti _fiducialiter_ in habitandam inviti
relinquerent.” This last clause reads more like a description of the
settlement of Guthrum than of anything that happened in Swegen’s time.
Footnote 686:
“Ealle þas ungesealða us gelumpon þurh _unrædes_.” Is there an
allusion to the name of Æthel_red_, and is this the origin of his
nickname of _Unready_? See above, p. 261.
Footnote 687:
It is suggested by Lappenberg, ii. 175.
Footnote 688:
The last entry is in 991 (see above, p. 284). The next is in 1033. Yet
these Chronicles are rather lavish than otherwise of notices of
English affairs.
Footnote 689:
Brut y Tywysogion, 1011. “One year and one thousand and ten was the
year of Christ, when Menevia was devastated by the Saxons, to wit, by
Entris and Ubis.” Annales Camb. 1012. “Menevia a Saxonibus vastata
est, scilicet Edris et Ubis.” Ann. Menevenses, 1011 (Angl. Sacr. ii.
648). “Menevia vastatur a Saxonibus, scilicet Edrich et Umbrich.” Here
at last we get Eadric’s right name; who Ubis or Umbrich may have been
it is vain to guess.
Footnote 690:
On the siege of Canterbury and martyrdom of Ælfheah, see Appendix PP.
Footnote 691:
The signatures of Godwine of Rochester seem to extend from 995 to
1046. Professor Stubbs (Reg. Sac. Angl. 17, 18) seems uncertain
whether they belong to one man or two. The famous Odo held the see of
Bayeux for as long a time.
Footnote 692:
Will. Malms, ii. 184. But see Wharton’s note to Osbern, Anglia Sacra,
ii. 124. Ælfheah’s sojourn at Glastonbury seems doubtful. He was a
monk at Bath, and he probably was Abbot there. (Flor. Wig. 984.) It
should be remembered that Bath was then an independent abbey. See vol.
iv. p. 421.
Footnote 693:
See Appendix PP.
Footnote 694:
Pelting people with bones at dinner seems to have been an established
Danish custom. It is allowed as the punishment of certain lesser
offences by Cnut’s “Witherlags Ret.” Swegen Aggesson, ap. Langebek,
iii. 148. See also a mythical story in Saxo, 115.
Footnote 695:
See vol. iv. p. 442.
Footnote 696:
On Thurkill’s conduct, see Appendix NN.
Footnote 697:
See above, pp. 308–309.
Footnote 698:
See Encomium Emmæ, i. 2, and Appendix NN.
Footnote 699:
Encomium Emmæ, i. 4.
Footnote 700:
Compare the saying of Thurkill just before; he will give any quantity
of gold and silver, anything _except his ship_, to redeem the life of
Ælfheah.
Footnote 701:
Compare the description of the splendid ship given by Godwine to
Harthacnut, Flor. Wig. 1040. Archbishop Ælfric also leaves King
Æthelred his best ship with its accoutrements. Cod. Dipl. iii. 351.
Footnote 702:
See above, p. 329.
Footnote 703:
He “soon” (sona) submitted, say the Chronicles; “sine cunctatione”
says Florence. William of Malmesbury (ii. 176) makes the most of it;
“Non quod in illorum mentibus genuinus ille calor, et dominorum
impatiens, refriguerit, sed quod princeps eorum Uhtredus primus
exemplum dederit.”
Footnote 704:
See above, p. 62.
Footnote 705:
“Sibi lectos auxiliarios de deditis sumens,” says Florence. This seems
also implied in the words of the Chronicles; “And hé þá wende syððan
suðweard mid _fulre fyrde_.” _Fyrd_ means the legal military array of
an English district; the Danish army is always _here_.
Footnote 706:
The Chronicles distinctly mark the geographical limit of his ravages;
“And syððan hé com ofer Wætlinga stræte, hi wrohton þæt mæste yfel þe
ænig here don mihte.”
Footnote 707:
Flor. Wig. “Suis edictum posuit, videlicet, ut agros vastarent,” &c.
Footnote 708:
William of Malmesbury (ii. 177), in the middle of his confused
narrative of this reign, lavishes a vast amount of fine writing on
this siege of London. The drowning of the Danes in the Thames is
attributed to the valour of the citizens, with which it clearly had
nothing to do. His character of the Londoners does not badly describe
that of the English generally; “Laudandi prorsus viri, et quos Mars
ipse collata non sperneret hasta, si ducem habuissent.” But the
Londoners had a leader, only William throughout refuses to name any
honourable act of Thurkill.
Footnote 709:
Florence ventures to say, “Æthelredus ... muros viriliter defendit.”
Footnote 710:
See Appendix QQ.
Footnote 711:
Compare Thucydides’ comment (iv. 12) on the battle at Pylos, where the
natural parts of the Lacedæmonians and the Athenians were reversed in
the like way; ἐς τοῦτό τε περιέστη ἡ τύχη ὥστε Ἀθηναίους μὲν ἐκ γῆς τε
καὶ ταύτης Λακωνικῆς ἀμύνεσθαι ἐκείνους ἐπιπλέοντας, Λακεδαιμονίους δὲ
ἐκ νεῶν τε καὶ ἐς τὴν ἑαυτῶν πολεμίαν οὖσαν ἐπ’ Ἀθηναίους ἀποβαίνειν.
Footnote 712:
The Chronicles distinctly make Emma and her sons go at two different
times, and they rather imply that Emma went of her own accord. “_Seo
hlæfdige wende_ þa ofer sǽ to hire broðor Ricarde and Ælfsige abbod of
Burh mid hire; and se cyning sende Ælfun bisceop mid þam æðelingum
Eadwearde and Ælfrede ofer sǽ.” Florence and William mix up the two
things together, but this trait in Emma’s character should not be
forgotten.
Footnote 713:
William of Malmesbury (ii. 177), seemingly to avoid naming Thurkill,
confuses everything. He makes Æthelred fly secretly from London to
Southampton, and thence to the Isle of Wight. He there holds a synod
of Bishops and Abbots (see Appendix OO), makes a long speech to them,
and sends Emma and the children across. Roger of Wendover tells the
same story, only without mentioning the Bishops. William of Jumièges
(v. 7) has a romance about Æthelred bringing over some hidden
treasures which he kept concealed at Winchester. He fancies that
Æthelred was living there, whereas the city was in the power of
Swegen. William, by this secret flight of Æthelred, at least avoids
this absurdity.
Footnote 714:
Roger of Wendover sends him across with a hundred and forty “milites.”
For a minute and highly-coloured version of the whole story, see Mr.
St. John, ii. 34.
Footnote 715:
Chron. 1013. “Þa bead Swegen ful gyld and metsunge to hís here ðóne
winter, and Þurkyl bead þæt ylce to ðam here þé læg æt Grenawíc, and
for eallon þam hí heregodon swa oft swa hí woldon.”
Footnote 716:
See above, pp. 44, 162, 268.
Footnote 717:
The epithet of Great however, in Danish annals, belongs not to him but
to his grandson Swegen Estrithson. Chron. Roskild. ap. Langebek, i.
378.
Footnote 718:
See Appendix QQ.
Footnote 719:
“Clericos,” says Florence; for Saint Eadmund’s was then held by
secular priests. It was Cnut who first placed monks there.
Footnote 720:
Florence calls it “generale placitum,” the same name which he applies
to the “mycel gemót,” the “magnum placitum,” of the next year.
Footnote 721:
“Magno cruciatus tormento, tertio nonas Februarii miserabili morte
vitam finivit.”
Footnote 722:
“Swegen geendode his dagas,” says the Chronicle, not a very usual
expression. It is applied two years afterwards to Æthelred, and, long
before, under 946, to the first Eadmund.
Footnote 723:
“Animam remittendo cœlestibus,” says the Encomiast (i. 5); “diro
corporis cruciatu ad tartara transmissus,” says Roger of Wendover (i.
449).
Footnote 724:
The Encomiast (i. 3 et al.) has more to tell of Harold than other
writers. He makes Harold the younger brother, which seems odd. Harold
is not mentioned by Saxo, but his name is found in the Danish
chronicles. According to the Chronicle of Eric (Lang. i. 159), the
Danes deposed Harold and elected Cnut, then deposed Cnut, on account
of his frequent absences from Denmark, and restored Harold, on whose
death Cnut finally succeeded. In the Knytlinga Saga, c. 8, Harold dies
before Swegen.
Footnote 725:
The Knytlinga Saga seems (Johnstone, 101) to make him only ten years
old in 1008; but nothing can be made of its chronology.
Footnote 726:
Chron. “And cwædon þat him nan hlaford leofra nære þonne heora gecynda
hlaford [in the Canterbury Chronicle _cyne-hlaford_], gif he hi
rihtlicor healdan wolde þonne he ær dyde.”
Footnote 727:
Flor. Wig. 1014. “Promittens se ... in omnibus eorum voluntati
consensurum consiliis acquieturum.”
Footnote 728:
Florence says only, “Principes se non amplius Danicum regem admissuros
in Angliam unanimiter spoponderunt.” But the Chronicles say expressly,
“æfre ælcne Deniscne cyning utlah of Englalande gecwædon.”
Footnote 729:
Thorpe, i. 340; Schmid, p. 242.
Footnote 730:
§§ 36, 37, 38. “And wíse wǽran worold-witan þe tó god-cundan rihtlagan
worold-laga settan, folce tó steóre, and Crist and cyninge gerihtan þá
bóte, þár man swá scolde manega for neóde gewildan tó rihte.”
“Ac on þám gemótan, þeáh rǽdlice wurðan on namcúðan stowan, æfter
Eádgares líf-dagum, Cristes lage wanodan, and cyninges lage lytledon.”
“And þa man getwǽmde, þæt ǽr wǽs gemǽne Criste and cyninge on
woroldlícre steóre, and á hit weorð þé wyrse for Gode and for worlde;
cume nú to bóte, gif hit God wille.” Cf. § 43, where the three Kings
are named.
Footnote 731:
Printed in Hickes’ Thesaurus, vol. i. pt. iii. p. 99. See Appendix RR.
Footnote 732:
Northern tradition assigns to Olaf Haraldsson, afterwards Saint Olaf,
a share in this campaign on the English side. But the account, like
most of the accounts in the sagas, is utterly unintelligible. See
Appendix VV.
Footnote 733:
The comment of the Chronicler is remarkable; “And wearð þæt earme folc
þus beswicen þurh hine.” Cnut betrayed them to Æthelred!
Footnote 734:
The Chronicles say twenty-one, Florence, thirty thousand. Henry of
Huntingdon follows the Chronicles.
Footnote 735:
See Appendix NN.
Footnote 736:
Chron. and Flor. in anno. Henry of Huntingdon introduces the fact with
the words, “Addidit autem Dominus malis solitis malum insolitum.”
Footnote 737:
On the children of Æthelred see Appendix SS.
Footnote 738:
See the story in Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. p. 315, ed. Hamilton.
Footnote 739:
See the Chronicles in the years 571 and 777.
Footnote 740:
See above, p. 316, and Appendix GG, and the curious story recorded in
the charter of Æthelred, 995, in Cod. Dipl. vi. 128. We there hear of
the church of Saint Helen, which has vanished in later times, and we
get the name of “Winsige, præpositus on Oxonaforda.”
Footnote 741:
Chron. in anno. “þæt mycel Gemót.” Flor. Wig. “Magnum placitum.” W.
Malms. “Magnum concilium.” The one Charter (Cod. Dipl. vi. 167) of
this year, and therefore probably of this Gemót, is a grant to Bishop
Beorhtwold (Brihtwold) of Sherborne of lands at Chilton in Berkshire,
formerly held by Wulfgeat, who was disgraced and his property
confiscated in 1006.
Footnote 742:
The Five Boroughs with the addition of York and Chester. Such at least
is the probable conjecture of Lingard, i. 296.
Footnote 743:
If Eadric was now restored to his old office of Ealdorman of the
Mercians, Oxford would be a town in his government, and the duty of
hospitality towards the Witan from other districts would naturally
fall upon him. See above, p. 327.
Footnote 744:
The marriage of Eadmund and his establishment in the North are
recorded by the Chronicles and by Florence, but more fully by William
of Malmesbury. As his details in no way contradict, but in some degree
explain, the account in the Chronicles, I do not scruple to follow
him.
Footnote 745:
“Visam concupivit, concupitæ communionem habuit,” says William. That
the “communio” was a lawful marriage is clear from the distinct words
of the Chronicles and from William’s own words afterwards. The
presence of Ealdgyth at Oxford suggests a question whether the Witan
usually brought their wives with them to these assemblies. The
question is not a frivolous one, as it bears on another, namely the
time which meetings of this sort usually lasted.
All the Chronicles speak of Eadmund’s wife as Sigeferth’s widow, and
Florence gives her the name of Ealdgyth. But in the will of Wulfric
(Cod. Dipl. vi. 149) we find an Ealdgyth wife of Morkere. Is there a
mistake of any kind, or did the brothers marry wives bearing the same
name?
Footnote 746:
I speak vaguely, because William of Malmesbury surely goes too far
when he speaks of “comitatus Sigeferdi, qui apud Northanhimbros
amplissimus erat.”
Footnote 747:
Was this submission willing or unwilling? The Chronicles are neutral.
“Gerad sona ealle Sigeferðes áre and Morcores; and þæt folc eal to him
beah.” Florence says, “Terram Sigeferthi et Morkeri invasit, ac
populum illarum sibi subjugavit.” But William has, “Comitatum ...
suapte industria vendicavit, hominibus ejusdem provinciæ in obsequium
ejus facile cedentibus.”
Footnote 748:
The Roskild Annals (Langebek, i. 376) make Eadmund imprison Cnut and
Olaf of Norway (who is here said to have accompanied Swegen); but who,
in other accounts (see Appendix VV), was vigorously fighting on the
English side. They escape from prison and fly to Bremen, where
Archbishop Unwan baptizes them. For this writer’s wonderful succession
of the English Kings, see also Appendix VV.
Footnote 749:
Encomium Emmæ, ii. 2.
Footnote 750:
The presence of Harold is asserted by Thietmar, vii. 28.
Footnote 751:
This is the version of the Encomiast, ii. 3. See Appendix NN.
Footnote 752:
Enc. Emmæ, ii. 4.
Footnote 753:
Chron. Rosk. ap. Lang. i. 376.
Footnote 754:
Enc. Emmæ, ii. 4. “In tanta expeditione nullus inveniebatur servus,
nullus ex servo libertus, nullus ignobilis, nullus senili ætate
debilis. Omnes enim erant nobiles, omnes plenæ ætatis robore
valentes.” When nobles were so plentiful, one is tempted to ask in
what nobility consisted?
Footnote 755:
“Be norðan,” say the Chronicles.
Footnote 756:
See Appendix NN.
Footnote 757:
They crossed “cum multo equitatu,” says Florence; “mid his here” say
the Chronicles, only the Peterborough and Canterbury manuscripts (one
of which, Canterbury, omits the words “mid his here”) add “clx.
scipa.” Do they mean that Cnut sailed up the Thames? The other reading
is distinctly preferable.
Footnote 758:
Here is a distinct allusion to the various passages in the laws of
this reign, denouncing penalties on those who fail to attend the royal
muster. See above, p. 337.
Footnote 759:
The Chronicles mention the ravaging without assigning any cause;
Florence adds, “quia adversus Danorum exercitum ad pugnam exire
noluerunt.” William of Malmesbury sets forth the policy of this severe
course at some length.
Footnote 760:
“Bea þa for nede,” say the Chronicles; William of Malmesbury again
expands at some length. Simeon (X Scriptt. p. 80) makes Cnut summon
Uhtred to submit, to which summons the Earl returns a spirited reply.
But after Æthelred’s death he yielded. The chronology is wrong, as
Uhtred certainly submitted before Æthelred’s death, but the facts are
likely enough.
Footnote 761:
His extent of territory is well marked by William of Malmesbury;
“Commendatis West-Saxonibus, et Merciorum parte quam subjecerat,
ducibus suis, ipse in Northanhimbros profectus.” London probably
protected Essex. We hear nothing of East-Anglia, but see Appendix NN.
Footnote 762:
The murders of Uhtred and Thurcytel are mentioned in the Chronicles;
Florence adds the name of Thurbrand. The other details come from the
tract of Simeon before quoted. The share of Eadric in the business
comes from one version of the Chronicles.
Footnote 763:
The Earl thus appointed appears as Yric, Egricus, Iricius, Hyrc. Yet
Mr. Thorpe not only, in his edition of Florence, invests Eadric
himself with the earldom, but thrusts—without any sign of
interpolation—this erroneous statement into the text of his
translation of Lappenberg (ii. 186), whereas, in the original (452),
Lappenberg is silent about the fate of Uhtred altogether. On the past
history of Eric, see the Saga of Olaf Haraldsson, c. 13; Laing’s
Heimskringla, ii. 192.
Footnote 764:
The Chronicles seem to place Eadmund’s departure for London after the
submission of Uhtred, Florence places it before. William says, “Ita
subjectis omnibus, Edmundum, per semetra fugitantem, non prius
persequi destitit [Cnuto] quam Londoniam ad patrem pervenisse
cognosceret.”
Footnote 765:
William adds, “usque post pascha quievit, ut cum omnibus copiis urbem
adoriretur.”
Footnote 766:
On all the points of the Double Election, see Appendix TT.
Footnote 767:
“Unanimi consensu,” says Florence.
Footnote 768:
See Appendix SS.
Footnote 769:
This surname is not only found in the Latin writers, but also in the
poem in the Chronicles on the return of Eadmund’s son Eadward in 1057;
“Eadmund cing
Irensíd was geclypod
For his snellscipe.”
Footnote 770:
On the order of events in the war of Cnut and Eadmund, see Appendix
VV.
Footnote 771:
The date is fixed in the Chronicles, “to þam gangdagum;” so in
Florence, “circa rogationes.”
Footnote 772:
The first ditch is recorded in the Chronicles, which say expressly,
“Hi ða dulfon áne mycle díc on suð healfe.” William of Malmesbury (ii.
18o), though he places the work later, after the battle of Sherstone,
speaks of the other ditch which surrounded the city, reaching no doubt
from the river to the river again; “fossa etiam urbem, qua fluvio
Tamensi non alluitur, foris totam cinxerat.” That these are not two
descriptions of the same ditch appears from the account in Florence,
which takes in both; “in australi parte Tamensis magnam scrobem
foderunt, et naves suas in occidentalem plagam pontis traxerunt; dein
urbem alta lataque fossa et obsidione cingentes,” &c. &c. I therefore,
with Lappenberg (ii. 188), understand the story as I have told it in
the text; the phrase “traxerunt” (so in the Chronicles “drogon”) seems
to mean that the ships were towed along the new-made canal.
Footnote 773:
Flor. Wig. “In West-Saxoniam abierunt propere, et regi Eadmundo
Ferreo-Lateri spatium congregandi exercitum non dedere, quibus tamen
ille cum exercitu quem in tantillo spatio congregaret, Dei fretus
auxilio, audacter in Dorsetania occurrit.” On “Dorsetania” see
Appendix VV.
Footnote 774:
The scene of Eadmund’s battle “æt Peonnan wið Gillingahám” (Chron.),
“in loco qui Peonnum vocatur, juxta Gillingaham” (Flor.), is
undoubtedly Pen Selwood. I am far from being so certain whether the
spot “æt Peonnum” (Chron. 658), where Cenwealh defeated the Welsh, is
the same, or another of the Pens in the same county. The word _Pen_
(head) is a specimen of the Celtic names which still survive in the
local nomenclature of this Teutonized, but not purely Teutonic,
district. Close to Pen Selwood, “Pen Pits” and a neighbouring
encampment called Orchard Castle supply good primæval studies. The
latter is not unlike a miniature model of the more renowned hill of
Senlac.
Footnote 775:
“Æfter middansumere,” say the Chronicles; Florence adds that the first
day of the battle was “Lunæ dies.”
Footnote 776:
“Ælmær Dyrling,” “Ælmarus Dilectus.” Florence alone adds, “Algarus
filius Meawes,” and implies, still more distinctly than the
Chronicles, that Ælfmær and Ælfgar, as well as Eadric, were bound to
Eadmund by some special tie—“qui ei auxilio esse debuerunt.”
Footnote 777:
Flor. Wig. “Optimum quemque in primam aciem subducit, cæterum
exercitum in subsidiis locat.” We must remember these tactics when we
come to the great fight of Senlac.
Footnote 778:
“Lanceis et gladiis pugna geritur.” See above, p. 273.
Footnote 779:
“Strenui militis et boni imperatoris officia simul exsequebatur” (so
Il. iii. 179, ἀμφότερον βασιλεύς τ’ ἀγαθὸς κρατερός τ’ αἰχμητής), says
Florence, who grows eloquent on Eadmund’s exploits. This praise must
have been common to every general of those days who deserved to be
called a general at all; yet it is often recorded to the special
honour of particular commanders, as we shall find it in a very marked
way of both Harold and William. William of Malmesbury (Hist. Nov. ii.
34) speaks in the same way of Earl Robert of Gloucester; “Ubicumque
commode fieri posse videbat, et militis et ducis probe officium
exequebatur.” Yet Abbot Suger, in his life of Lewis the Fat (c. 20;
Duchesne, Scriptt. Franc. iv. 304), blames his own hero because “ultra
quam deceret majestatem, miles emeritus militis officio, non regis,
singulariter decertabat.” So Orderic (885 D) says of William of
Flanders, “ipse ducis et militis officio plerumque fungebatur unde a
caris tutoribus pro illo formidantibus crebro redarguebatur.”
Footnote 780:
On this incident, see Appendix VV.
Footnote 781:
Fl. Wig. “Ut naturalem dominum [no doubt _cyne-hláford_] requisivit
illum.”
Footnote 782:
Ib. “Exercitu vice tertia congregato.” The armies seem always to
disperse after an action, whether a victory or a defeat. I conceive
that the local levies, like the Highlanders ages afterwards, returned
home after each battle, while the immediate following of the King or
Ealdorman largely remained with him. An invader had the advantage that
all his troops were _comitatus_; the Danes had no means of going back
to their houses and families.
Footnote 783:
Flor. Wig. “Rex Eadmundus Ferreum Latus exercitum fortem de tota
Anglia quarto congregavit.”
Footnote 784:
I adopt the description of William of Malmesbury, evidently a fragment
of a ballad; “Fluvius ille Rofensem urbem præterfluens, violentus et
rapaci gurgite minax, mœnia pulcra lavat.”
Footnote 785:
See above, p. 45. Was it any confused remembrance of this fact which
led the Encomiast (see Appendix VV) to make Cnut’s army winter in
Sheppey now?
Footnote 786:
On the site of Assandun see Appendix VV.
Footnote 787:
The battle of Assandun in several points suggests that of Senlac, and
the details given of Assandun help to explain several questions
connected with the later fight. Henry of Huntingdon preserves some
very valuable hints on this head.
Footnote 788:
Hen. Hunt. “Loco regio relicto, quod erat ex more inter draconem et
insigne quod vocatur Standard.” The full importance of this passage
will be seen at a later stage of my history. The West-Saxon Dragon
figures prominently in Henry’s narrative of the battle of Burford in
752 (see above, p. 38). In Saxo (p. 192) the dragons become eagles,
but this is clearly only by way of being classical, as one Tymmo, a
valiant Dane from Zealand, figures as _aquilifer_ on the other side,
when he surely ought to have been _corvifer_.
Footnote 789:
The Danish Raven, according to the story, opened its mouth and
fluttered its wings before a victory, but held its wings down before a
defeat. The legend is well known; I get it on this occasion from the
Encomiast, whose tale is chiefly valuable as witnessing to the
presence of Thurkill. See Appendix VV.
Footnote 790:
Flor. Wig. “Interea Canutus paullatim in æquum locum suos deducit.”
Footnote 791:
Ibid. “Rex Eadmundus aciem, sicuti instruxerat, velociter movet, et
repente signo dato Danos invadit.” This seems to imply the charge down
hill. In the rhetoric of Henry of Huntingdon we may spy out fragments
of a ballad which may have rivalled those of Brunanburh and Maldon;
“Loco regio relicto ... cucurrit terribilis in aciem primam. Vibrans
igitur gladium electum et brachio juvenis Edmundi dignum, _modo
fulminis_ fidit aciem,” &c. So Hist. Ram. lxxii. (Gale, i. 433);
“Ædricus ... videns Ædmundum _furore fulmineo_ hostium aciem
penetrantem.” Cf. Draco Normannicus, i. 318;
“Fulguris instar habens hostibus ense fremit.”
As the Danes no doubt keep their shield-wall, we may compare the
charge of the Alemanni in the battle of Strassburg, Ammianus, xvi. 12;
“Barbari in modum exarsere flammarum, nexamque scutorum compagem, quæ
nostros in modum testudinis tuebatur, scindebant ictibus gladiorum
adsiduis.”
Mark that the sword is still the English weapon.
Footnote 792:
Chron. “Eadric ... aswác swa his cynehlaforde and ealre Angelcynnes
þeode.”
Footnote 793:
Chron. “Þær ahte Cnut sige, and gefeht him alle Engla þeode.” See Mr.
Earle’s note, p. 340.
Footnote 794:
Chron. “And eall Angelcynnes duguð þar wearð fordon.”
Footnote 795:
See above, p. 283.
Footnote 796:
Will. Malms. ii. 180. “Ulfkillus Est-Anglorum comes, perpetuam jam
famam meritus tempore Swani, quando, primus omnium piratas adorsus,
spem dedit posse illos superari.”
Footnote 797:
See above, p. 264.
Footnote 798:
See the story in Appendix AA.
Footnote 799:
Florence, by an odd forestalling, calls him “Lindicolinensis.”
Footnote 800:
“Qui ad exorandum Deum pro milite bellum agente convenerant,” says
Florence. So the Ramsey historian (lxxii.); “Qui, cum multis aliis
religiosis personis, juxta morem Anglorum veterem, ibidem convenerant,
non armis, sed orationum suppetiis, pugnantem exercitum juvaturi.” Yet
I confess that the calm way in which the Chronicles reckon the
prelates among the slain alongside of the ealdormen looks to me the
other way.
Footnote 801:
See above, pp. 279, 340.
Footnote 802:
Ealhstan, Bishop of Sherborne, fills a prominent place in the wars of
the ninth century. See the Chronicles in the years 823, 845. (Cf. 871
and Will. Malms. ii. 131, for other fighting prelates of that age.) Of
Ealdred’s exploits, mostly unlucky, we shall hear much in the course
of the next fifty years. Another warrior Bishop will be found in the
Chronicles under the year 1056.
Footnote 803:
Enc. Emm. ii. 11.
Footnote 804:
Enc. Emm. ii. 11. “Londoniam repetentes, saniora sibi quærunt
consilia.” I do not fully understand these words.
Footnote 805:
Hist. Ram. lxxiii.; Hist. Elien. ii. 21 (Gale, 502; Stewart, 196). The
Ramsey historian grudges the possession of Eadnoth’s body to the rival
house, and will hardly believe the miracles which were said to
vindicate the claim of Ely. It is rather odd that the Ely historian
mentions neither the miracles nor the burial of Eadnoth, but he goes
on to say that the Ely monks went to the field with certain of the
relics of their church, which were lost. Some, he says, said that Cnut
carried them away and placed them at Canterbury. Such a pious robbery
would be quite in harmony with Cnut’s later character.
Footnote 806:
Fl. Wig. 1016. “Occisus est in ea pugna ... totus fere globus
nobilitatis Anglorum, qui nullo in bello majus umquam vulnus quam ibi
acceperunt.” W. Malms. ii. 180. “Ibi Cnuto regnum expugnavit, ibi omne
decus Angliæ occubuit, ibi flos patriæ totus emarcuit.” H. Hunt. M. H.
B. 756 B. “Illic igitur miranda strages Anglorum facta est; illic
occisus est ... omnis flos nobilitatis Brittanniæ.” For the entry in
the Chronicles, see p. 393, note 3.
Footnote 807:
See Appendix WW.
Footnote 808:
Flor. Wig. “Licet invitus, ad ultimum quum consentiret.”
Footnote 809:
On this conference between Eadmund and Cnut, and the process by which
in most later accounts it has grown into a single combat between the
rival Kings, see Appendix WW.
Footnote 810:
So I infer from the proceedings of Cnut after the death of Eadmund.
Footnote 811:
As Glaukos and Diomêdês, Il. vi. 230 et seqq.; Hektôr and Aias, vii.
303. Compare the brotherhood among the early Moslems; Muir’s Life of
Mahomet, iii. 17. The same institution is found among the Dalmatian
Morlacchi, where the sworn brothers or sisters (_Pobratimi_ and
_Posestrime_) were united by a special religious ceremony. See Fortis,
Viaggio in Dalmazia, i. 58 (cf. Grote’s Greece, ii. 117); Petter,
Dalmazien, i. 226. It seems to exist among other Slaves as well, and
we shall come across other cases in our own story.
Footnote 812:
“Armis et _vestibus_ mutatis,” says Florence, but, if the tradition as
to the personal stature of the two kings be correct, a judgement of
Cyrus would have been presently needed to restore the clothes to their
former owners.
Footnote 813:
See the extract from the Encomium in Appendix WW.
Footnote 814:
See Appendix XX.
Footnote 815:
Chronn. “His lic lið on Glæstingabyrig mid his ealdan fæder Eadgare.”
Footnote 816:
On the Glastonbury tombs, see Willis, Architectural History of
Glastonbury, p. 33. The first burying-place of Eadmund was before the
high altar (Will. Malms. de Ant. Glast. Eccl. ap. Gale, p. 306). His
tomb must have been removed on the Invention of Arthur in the time of
Henry the Second.
Footnote 817:
“De bellis vero regis Edmundi, et de fortitudine ejus, nonne hæc
scripta sunt in historiis veterum cum laude summa?” H. Hunt. M. H. B.
755 D.
In a Melrose manuscript, lately printed at Göttingen (for which I have
to thank Dr. Pauli), there are verses in honour of Eadmund’s later
Scottish descendant William the Lion and of Eadmund himself. His
panegyric runs;
“Firma basis fidei, plebis protectio, regni
Tutor solque suo tempore solus erat.
In cives clemens, in principe civis, in hostes
Atrox, multiplici dote beatus homo.”
His battles and victories are reckoned at twelve;
“Mirum! bis seno conflixit Marte, thriumfus,
Tot totiens victis intitulavit eum.”
A West-Saxon poet might perhaps not have added;
“A! nullum ejus post ortum breviter fero talem,
Anglia se doleat non genuisse virum.”
Such a reign as Eadmund’s was not likely to be rich in documents.
There is one charter (Cod. Dipl. iii. 369) of “Eadmundus æðeling rex,”
granting lands “æt Pegecyrcan” (Peakirk in Northamptonshire) to the
New Minster at Winchester. Its style, less turgid than that of most
Latin documents of the kind, may be characteristic either of the man
or of the circumstances of the time. The time when Eadmund was most
likely to exercise acts of sovereignty in Northamptonshire would be in
the autumn of 1016, between the battles of Otford and Assandun, when
he was drawing troops from Lindesey and other distant parts of the
kingdom.
Footnote 818:
Our authorities for this period are nearly the same as those for the
reign of Æthelred. The Chronicles and Florence are still our main
guides, and, as Florence draws nearer to his own time, he more
commonly inserts independent matter which is not to be found in the
Chronicles. We get the same kind of supplementary help as before from
the secondary English authorities, the later and the local writers. We
have the same hard task as before in trying to reconcile the English
accounts with the various Scandinavian sagas and chronicles. The
Encomium Emmæ becomes of greater importance, but it must still be used
with caution, as it is clear that the writer, though contemporary, was
deeply prejudiced and often very ill informed. We now also begin to
draw our first help from one most valuable document, the contemporary
Life of Eadward the Confessor, published by Mr. Luard. This was
written, between the years 1066 and 1074, by one who was intimately
acquainted with Godwine and his family, and it helps us to many facts
and aspects of facts which are not to be found elsewhere. But the most
important point with regard to our authorities for this time is that
we must now cease to quote the English Chronicles as one work. The
differences between the various copies now begin to assume a real
historical importance. The narratives often differ widely from each
other, and often show widely different ways of looking at men and
things. They show that something very like the distinction of Whig and
Tory can be traced as far back as the eleventh century. I first
pointed out the difference of feeling which the different Chronicles
display with regard to Godwine in a paper on the Earl’s Life and
Death, in the Archæological Journal for 1854–1855. Since that time Mr.
Earle, in the Introduction to his “Two of the Saxon Chronicles
Parallel,” has gone fully and exhaustively into the matter from his
point of view, and has given what may be called biographies of the
various records which are commonly confounded under the name of “the
Saxon Chronicle.” I shall hereafter follow Mr. Earle’s nomenclature
(grounded on that of Jocelin, Secretary to Archbishop Parker), and
shall quote them as follows. The manuscript commonly quoted as “C. C.
C. C. clxxiv.” I quote as the _Winchester_ Chronicle. For our period
this Chronicle contains only a few entries added at Canterbury. “Cott.
Tib. B. i.” is the _Abingdon_ Chronicle, the only one hostile to
Godwine. “Cod. Tib. B. iv.” is the _Worcester_ Chronicle. “Bodl. Laud.
636” is the _Peterborough_ Chronicle, strongly Godwinist. (This part
however was composed at Worcester, the Chronicle being transcribed and
continued at Peterborough.) “Cott. Domit. A. viii.” is _Canterbury_,
the least valuable of all, but of more importance now than in earlier
times.
Footnote 819:
_Cnut_ or _Knud_, in one syllable, is this King’s true name, and the
best Latin form is _Cnuto_, according to the usual way of Latinizing
Scandinavian names. See above, p. 165. The form _Canutus_ seems to
have arisen from Pope Paschal the Second’s inability to say _Cnut_.
The later King Cnut, the supposed martyr, was therefore canonized by
him as “Sanctus Canutus.” See Æthelnoth’s Life of Saint Cnut, capp.
iv. vi. xxxiii. (Langebek, iii. 340, 382). The writer, an English monk
settled in Denmark, thinks the lengthening of the name a great honour,
and compares it with the change from Abram to Abraham; but he somewhat
inconsistently cuts down his own name to _Ailnothus_.
Footnote 820:
Nothing can be made of the unintelligible story in Snorro (c. 25;
Laing, ii. 21, and see Appendix VV), according to which the sons of
Æthelred and Emma, assisted by Olaf of Norway and his foster-father
Rane, made an unsuccessful attempt upon England after Eadmund’s death.
The tale may have arisen from some confusion with the later attempt on
behalf of the Æthelings made by Duke Robert of Normandy. Snorro is
throughout, as we shall often have occasion to see, most ill informed
on English affairs. Can this Rane be the same as Ranig, whom we find
Earl of the Magesætas twenty years later?
Footnote 821:
See above, p. 367.
Footnote 822:
See above, p. 381.
Footnote 823:
On Cnut’s apparently territorial title, see Appendix M.
Footnote 824:
On the accession of Cnut to the whole kingdom, see Appendix TT.
Footnote 825:
I borrow the title from Florence’s description of Cnut’s son Harold,
“Rex Merciorum et Northhymbrorum,” in recording the analogous event of
1037.
Footnote 826:
On the brothers of Eadmund who were living, see Appendix SS.
Footnote 827:
See above, p. 397, and Appendix WW.
Footnote 828:
Fl. 1016. “Fratres et filios Eadmundi omnino despexerunt, eosque reges
esse negaverunt.” Compare the former exclusion of the whole house of
Æthelred. See above, p. 381.
Footnote 829:
Fl. 1017. “_Fœdus_ etiam cum principibus et _omni populo_ (see
Appendix Q) ipse, et illi cum ipso percusserunt.”
Footnote 830:
See Appendix TT.
Footnote 831:
On the two Eadwigs, see Appendix YY.
Footnote 832:
The fourfold division is well marked in a Charter of Æthelred (Cod.
Dipl. iii. 314), which is said to be witnessed by thegns “ǽgðer ge of
West-Sexan, ge of Myrcean, ge of Denon, ge of Englon.” The “Danes”
here must mean the Northumbrians, and the “English,” distinctively so
called, the East-Angles.
Footnote 833:
Florence calls Thurkill and Eric _comites_, Eadric alone _dux_. I
conceive that _comes_ is meant to translate _eorl_, and _dux_ to
translate _ealdorman_. Probably Eadric kept the English title; if so,
it was its last use in the old half-kingly sense, and in a year or two
the title dies out altogether from the Chronicles, though its use
still goes on in private documents, and even in Cnut’s own Laws.
Footnote 834:
See above, p. 379.
Footnote 835:
So we now apply the title of Lord Lieutenant—the nearest modern
approach to the ancient Ealdorman—both to the Viceroy of the ancient
kingdom of Ireland and to the military chief of a single county.
Footnote 836:
On the origin of Godwine, see Appendix ZZ.
Footnote 837:
Vita Eadw. ap. Luard, p. 392. “Quum consilio cautissimus, tum bellicis
rebus ab ipso rege probatus est strenuissimus. Erat quoque morum
æqualitate tam cunctis quam ipsi regi gratissimus, assiduo laboris
accinctu incomparabilis, jocunda et prompta affabilitate omnibus
affabilis.” Presently he is “profundus eloquio.” William of Malmesbury
also (ii. 197) speaks of Godwine’s eloquence; “Homo affectati leporis,
et ingenue gentilitia lingua eloquens, mirus dicere, mirus populo
persuadere quæ placerent.”
Footnote 838:
See Appendix ZZ.
Footnote 839:
See Appendix AAA.
Footnote 840:
On the marriage of Cnut and Emma, see Appendix BBB.
Footnote 841:
Will. Malms, ii. 181. “Ut, dum consuetæ dominæ deferrent obsequium,
minus Danorum suspirarent imperium.”
Footnote 842:
See Appendix VV.
Footnote 843:
Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 752 A. “Emma, Normannorum gemma.” So Godfrey,
Prior of Winchester, in the Epigrammata Historica printed in Wright’s
Satirical Poets, ii. 148;
“Splendidior gemma meriti splendoribus Emma.”
Footnote 844:
Flod. A. 951; Richer, ii. 101; Palgrave, ii. 619. Lewis himself was
much younger than his wife Gerberga, daughter of Henry the Fowler and
widow of Gilbert of Lotharingia.
Footnote 845:
See Appendix BBB.
Footnote 846:
See above, p. 315.
Footnote 847:
See above, p. 406.
Footnote 848:
See above, p. 374. Alberic of Trois-Fontaines (51) makes them children
of Eadwig.
Footnote 849:
Flor. Wig. 1017.
Footnote 850:
This rumour is preserved by the so-called Bromton, 907. Though the
authority of this writer is as low as anything can be, the trait is
characteristic, and savours of a contemporary scandal-monger.
Footnote 851:
Sigrid, widow of Eric the Victorious, and mother of Olaf of Sweden,
was mother of Cnut by her second marriage with Swegen. J. Magni Hist.
Goth. xvii, 17, 18 (Rome, 1554) Olaf died in 1018. Swedish tradition
says much of his friendship and hereditary alliance with England,
especially with King “Mildredus” or “Eldredus,” of all which I find no
trace in English history.
Footnote 852:
Adam Brem. ii. 50, 56.
Footnote 853:
Florence, followed by Roger of Wendover, calls the Hungarian King
Solomon. But Solomon did not begin to reign till 1063. Stephen died in
1038. Thwrocz, Chron. Hung. c. xxxiv.; Scriptt. Rev. Hung. (Wien
1746), p. 98. The Chronicles at this stage are silent on the matter,
but the poem in the Worcester Chronicle under 1057 says that Cnut sent
Eadward “on Ungerland to beswicane”—Sweden is not mentioned. Adam of
Bremen (ii. 51) gives them another refuge; “in Ruzziam exsilio
damnati.” So Karamsin, Hist. de Russie, ii. 48.
Footnote 854:
So Florence; “in nativitate Domini, cum esset Lundoniæ.” A different
order of events might perhaps be inferred from the Chronicles; but
Florence is clearly more careful in his arrangement in this place.
Footnote 855:
“Æðelmæres þæs greatan,” say the Abingdon, Worcester, and Peterborough
annalists. What kind of greatness is implied? This may be the
Æthelweard who is said to have failed to slay Eadwig; but this
Æthelweard and this Æthelmær must be distinguished from the real or
supposed brothers of Eadric. So Brihtric must be distinguished from
the Brihtric of the year 1009.
Footnote 856:
See Appendix CCC.
Footnote 857:
Hist. Eves. 84. “Cnuto ... fecit occidi Edricum ... cum quo etiam et
aliis pluribus suis militibus, quidam potens homo, Normannus vocabulo,
frater scilicet hujus Leofrici comitis, perimitur ejus jussione.”
Footnote 858:
See below, p. 418.
Footnote 859:
Florence (1017) asserts their injustice; the victims died “sine
culpa.”
Footnote 860:
As Lappenberg (ii. 200) seems to think, on the strength of a passage
in the Ramsey History, c. 84. If this be the necessary meaning of the
Ramsey writer, his authority is very small on such a point, and the
general course of Cnut’s conduct looks quite the other way.
Footnote 861:
See Appendix SS.
Footnote 862:
See above, p. 379.
Footnote 863:
On the different versions of the tale, see Appendix DDD.
Footnote 864:
So Florence; “Quia timebat insidiis ab eo aliquando circumveniri,
sicut domini sui priores Ægelredus et Eadmundus frequenter sunt
circumventi.”
Footnote 865:
See above, pp. 278, 326.
Footnote 866:
See above, p. 205, 233.
Footnote 867:
See Appendix CCC.
Footnote 868:
Thietmar, viii. 5. “In Anglis triginta navium habitatores piratæ a
rege eorum, Suenni regis filio, Deo gratias, occisi sunt; et qui prius
cum patre hujus erat invasor et assiduus destructor provinciæ, nunc
solus sedit defensor, ut in Libycis basiliscus arenis cultore vacuis.”
Footnote 869:
It took some time to collect these large sums. Thus the Danegeld voted
in 1011 was paid in 1012. See above, pp. 350–355. This Danegeld is
referred to in Heming’s Worcester Cartulary, 248 (Mon. Angl. i. 595),
a passage to which I shall have to refer again.
Footnote 870:
£10500, according to the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles and
Florence. £11000, according to the Peterborough and Canterbury
Chronicles.
Footnote 871:
See above, p. 373.
Footnote 872:
The Abingdon Chronicle has only, “And Dene and Engle wurdon sæmmæle æt
Oxnaforda.” The Worcester annalist makes the important addition, “to
Eadgares lage.” So Florence; “Angli et Dani apud Oxenafordam de lege
regis Eadgari tenenda concordes sunt effecti.”
Footnote 873:
See above, p. 218.
Footnote 874:
William of Malmesbury has a remarkable passage to this effect; “Omnes
enim leges ab antiquis regibus, et maxime ab antecessore suo Ethelredo
latas, sub interminatione regiæ mulctæ perpetuis temporibus observari
præcepit [Cnuto]; in quarum custodiam etiam nunc tempore bonorum sub
nomine regis Edwardi juratur, non quod ille statuerit, sed quod
observarit.” (ii. § 183.)
Footnote 875:
See above, p. 65.
Footnote 876:
“Incomparabilis Eadgarus,” says Cnut in his Glastonbury Charter,
which, if spurious, as marked by Mr. Kemble (Cod. Dipl. iv. 40), is at
least older than William of Malmesbury (ii. § 185).
Footnote 877:
“Nec dicto deterius fuit factum,” says William of Malmesbury, ii. 183.
So in ii. 181; “Ita quum omnis Anglia pareret uni, ille ingenti studio
Anglos sibi conciliare, æquum illis jus cum Danis suis in consessu, in
concilio, in prœlio, concedere.”
Footnote 878:
See above, pp. 370–375.
Footnote 879:
Adam Brem. ii. 63. “Aliquando visitans Danos, aliquando Nortmannos
[Norwegians], sæpissime autem sedit in Anglia.”
Footnote 880:
See above, p. 366.
Footnote 881:
Chronn. in anno; Fl. Wig.
Footnote 882:
On the exploits and marriage of Godwine see Appendix EEE.
Footnote 883:
Saxo (193) tells the tale at length. Florence also (1049) admits the
pedigree; “Ulfus, filius Spraclingi, filius Ursi.” “Ursus” is
seemingly the half-human Biorn, not the bear himself. Cf. Appendix
WWW.
Footnote 884:
See Appendix ZZ.
Footnote 885:
He signs, as far as I know, only two Charters; one (Cod. Dipl. iv. 15)
in company with Leofwine, the other (Cod. Dipl. vi. 190) in company
with Leofric. This last, which is very unusual, is not signed by
Godwine, and the “Harold eorl” who signs it must, as I shall presently
show, be distinguished from his son.
Footnote 886:
Saxo, 195–7. See Appendix GGG.
Footnote 887:
All the Chronicles, and also Florence, mention this banishment of
Æthelweard.
Footnote 888:
On Godwine’s West-Saxon earldom, see Appendix AAA.
Footnote 889:
Chron. and Flor. Wig. in anno.
Footnote 890:
See Appendix II.
Footnote 891:
The Canterbury Chronicle is fuller than the others on this head,
calling the building “an mynster of stane and lime.” This is one of
the passages which have been strangely applied to prove that stone
architecture was hardly known in England before the Norman Conquest.
Any one who knows the buildings of Essex, as compared with those of
Somerset or Northamptonshire, will at once see that the notice of a
stone building as something singular must be purely local. The present
church of Ashington contains no detail earlier than the last years of
the twelfth century; but I suspect that the walls are mainly those of
Cnut’s minster.
Footnote 892:
Will. Malms. ii. 185, and see below.
Footnote 893:
Chron. Cant. “And gief hit [the minster] his anum preoste þas nama was
Stigand.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 181) calls it “basilica,” but
goes on to say, “Nunc, ut fertur, modica est ecclesia presbytero
parochiano delegata.” The words “minster,” “monasterium” (as applied
to the church as distinguished from the conventual buildings),
“moutier,” are used very vaguely, and often mean merely a church of
any kind.
Footnote 894:
Perhaps the little collegiate church of Battlefield, founded to
commemorate Henry the Fourth’s victory, called the Battle of
Shrewsbury, is a nearer parallel to Assandun than Battle Abbey or
Batalha.
Footnote 895:
The monks of Battle came from Marmoutier. Chron. de Bello, p. 7.
Footnote 896:
I assume, with Mr. St. John (Four Conquests, ii. 69), that this
Stigand is no other than the future Archbishop. Stigand the priest
signs charters of Cnut in 1033 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 46) and 1035 (vi. 185),
and one without date (vi. 187), and one of Harthacnut in 1042 (iv.
65). He seems to be the only person of the name who signs. He was
chaplain to Harold Harefoot (Fl. Wig. 1038), as well as to Cnut and
Eadward.
Footnote 897:
Chron. and Fl. Wig. in anno. See Appendix NN.
Footnote 898:
See Appendix NN and SS.
Footnote 899:
See Appendix QQQ.
Footnote 900:
Eric’s last signature is in 1023. Cod. Dipl. iv. 26.
Footnote 901:
See Appendix FFF.
Footnote 902:
Fl. Wig. 1029. “Timebat enim ab illo vel vita privari vel regno
expelli.” Hakon’s connexion by marriage with Cnut rests on the
authority of Florence, in anno. His blood-kindred as his sister’s son
comes from Snorro, c. 19 (Laing, ii. 15).
Footnote 903:
Snorro, c. 139 (Laing, ii. 192). This is what Florence (1029) must
mean, when he says, “Quasi legationis causa, in exsilium misit.”
Footnote 904:
The Chronicles contain no mention of Hakon’s banishment, but the
Abingdon Chronicle mentions his death at sea in 1030; “And þæs geres
ǽr ðám fórferde Hacun se _dohtiga eorl_ on sǽ.” Florence (1030)
records his death at sea, but also mentions the other account. In the
wild invective of Osbern (Trans. S. Elf. ap. Ang. Sac. ii. 144) we
have an Earl Hakon, perhaps the same, who stabs himself; “propono
ducem Haconem proprio se mucrone transverberantem.” A charter of 1031
(Cod. Dipl. iv. 35), with a signature of Hakon, must be spurious or
inaccurate in its date.
Footnote 905:
Florence (1044) mentions the second marriage of Gunhild. This Harold
signs a charter of 1033 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 43), and another (vi. 190)
along with the Earls Ulf, Eglaf, Leofric, and Eric. These signatures
must be carefully distinguished from the early signatures of Harold
the son of Godwine.
Footnote 906:
Fl. Wig. 1046.
Footnote 907:
See Appendix GGG.
Footnote 908:
Fl. Wig. 1041, and vol. ii. Appendix G. Thored was perhaps Thurkill’s
nephew. At least a “Ðorð Ðurcylles nefa” signs a charter of Cnut in
1023 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 38), but of course it may be another Thored and
another Thurkill. There are many signatures which may belong to this
Thored, as iv. 23, vi. 187, and vi. 191, where he appears as “Ðored
steallere.”
Footnote 909:
On the Northumbrian Earls, see Appendix KK.
Footnote 910:
There is one charter of Cnut (Cod. Dipl. iv. 43) signed by a crowd of
Danish names otherwise unknown. But this is a charter relating wholly
to Northumbrian affairs, and the signatures are no doubt those of
local thegns, many of whom were most likely not followers of Cnut, but
descendants of the Danish settlers in Ælfred’s time.
Footnote 911:
Something of this sort, which is quite likely in itself, is implied in
some stories told by the Ramsey historian, who enters into much detail
about various Danish thegns at this time. For instance, in cap.
lxxxiv. (p. 440) we read about the Dane Thurkill when summoned before
the Bishop’s court; “Quo citato apparere contemnente, a severitate
tamen meritæ ultionis censuit episcopus ad tempus temperandum, _ne
Anglus Dacum ad regis injuriam injuste vexare diceretur_.” Cnut
however steps in to support the law against his grantee.
In cap. lxxxvi. again is a story about a Danish thegn, who greatly
oppressed the neighbouring “rustici,” who conspired his death. He is
“vir factiosus et dives, qui Anglorum animos ex suo ponderans, illis
Dacos fore semper exosos, quod patriam suam invasissent, et sibi
insidias, occulte tamen propter metum regis, ab eis parari
arbitratus.” He escapes by selling his estate to the Bishop, who was
always on the look-out for such chances, and who gave it to Ramsey
abbey. The really important point in the story is an allusion to Welsh
robbers (“Britones latrones”) as still possible in Huntingdonshire in
the time of Cnut.
Footnote 912:
Eurip. Phœn. 534;
εἴπερ γὰρ ἀδικεῖν χρὴ, τυραννίδος πέρι
κάλλιστον ἀδικεῖν τἄλλα δ’ εὐσεβεῖν χρεών.
Footnote 913:
On the disputed date of Cnut’s journey to Rome, see Appendix HHH.
Footnote 914:
See Appendix III.
Footnote 915:
i. I. “Þæt is þonne ǽrest, þæt hió ofer ealle óðre þingc ǽnne God
æfre, woldan lúfian and wurðian, and ǽnne cristendóm ánrǽdlice
healdan, and Cnut cingc lúfian mid rihtan getrywðan.” Cnut’s Laws form
two divisions, ecclesiastical and secular (woruldcunde), but both
alike are enacted by the King and his Witan. I quote the
Ecclesiastical as i., the Secular as ii.
Footnote 916:
i. 17. The words of Æthelred’s statute (see above, p. 337) are
repeated.
Footnote 917:
i. 15. Cf. the Capitularies, Waitz, iv. 311, 315.
Footnote 918:
ii. 5.
Footnote 919:
ii. 3.
Footnote 920:
“Mid mínan witenan rǽde” is the form in the preamble of the Secular
Laws.
Footnote 921:
ii. 18. Here the English title Ealdorman is used, but in a later
clause (ii. 72) we find the highest rank described as Earls, clearly
in the later and not in the earlier sense of the word, as the Earl is
distinctly marked as superior to the King’s Thegn.
Footnote 922:
ii. 18. “And þǽr beo on þǽre scire bisceop and se ealdorman, and þǽr
ægðer tǽcan ge Godes riht ge woruld-riht.” See Appendix K.
Footnote 923:
i. 20.
Footnote 924:
ii. 12, 14, 15.
Footnote 925:
ii. 15, 45, 49, 63, 66, 72, 84.
Footnote 926:
See above, p. 66.
Footnote 927:
ii. 81. On the severe hunting code which bears the name of Cnut see
Appendix III.
Footnote 928:
Hist. Rams. c. 85. p. 441. “Quum quadem vice rex Cnuto more assueto
regni fines peragraret.” Cf. below, p. 441.
Footnote 929:
See Appendix III.
Footnote 930:
See Appendix GGG.
Footnote 931:
Prior Godfrey (Satirical Poets, ii. 148) thus sums up his character;
“Quique cruentus erat et in hostes prædo superbus,
In sibi subjectos regis habebat opus.
Mensæ sæpe suæ convivia festa relinquens,
Pauperibus monachis intererat socius.
Post posita pompa turbæ mediator agentis,
Conservus servis serviit ille Dei.”
Footnote 932:
Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 757 E. Cnut, as a constitutional King, had less
power over the elements than the despotic Lewis the Eleventh. See the
story in Kirk, Charles the Bold, ii. 10.
Footnote 933:
Hist. El. ii. 27 (p. 505). Every one knows the lines, somewhat
modernized as they must have been by the transcriber;
“Merie sungen ðe muneches binnen Ely,
Ða Cnut ching reu ðer by;
Roweð, cnihtes, noer ðe land,
And here we þes muneches sæng.”
Footnote 934:
Hist. El. ii. 27 (p. 505).
Footnote 935:
Bromton, X Scriptt. 909.
Footnote 936:
Fl. Wig. 1020. “Æthelnothus, qui bonus appellabatur, nobilis viri
Ægelmari filius.” Æthelnoth was not improbably brother of Æthelweard,
one of the victims of 1017. If so, his promotion was of a piece with
the favour shown by Cnut to the father and son of Northman, a
fellow-sufferer with Æthelweard. See above, p. 414. William of
Malmesbury (ii. 184) tells us of the influence for good which
Æthelnoth exercised over Cnut; “Regem ipsum auctoritate sanctitudinis
in bonis actibus mulcens, in excessibus terrens.” See also the extract
from Osbern (Trans. S. Elph. Ang. Sacr. ii. 144) in Appendix TT.
Footnote 937:
Will. Malms. ii. 181. “Loca omnia in quibus pugnaverat, et præcipue
Assandunam, ecclesiis insignivit.”
Footnote 938:
See above, p. 366.
Footnote 939:
Will. Malms. ii. 181. “Monasteria per Angliam suis et patris
excursionibus partim fœdata, partim eruta, reparavit.”
Footnote 940:
Will. Malms, u. s.; Rog. Wend. i. 464; Tho. Eli. ap. Ang. Sacr. i.
608; John of Oxenedes, p. 19. Earl Thurkill, the Lady Emma, and
Ælfwine, Bishop of the East-Angles, aided in the foundation. The monks
came partly from Holm, partly from Ely; the Abbot “Uvius” or
Wido—either of them very strange names—was from Holm. Of the canons,
some took the vows, others were provided for elsewhere. The change of
foundation took place in 1020, but the new church was not consecrated
till 1032. Flor. Wig. in anno.
Footnote 941:
John of Oxenedes, pp. 19, 291.
Footnote 942:
Cnut’s visit to Glastonbury is described, and the charter given at
length, by William of Malmesbury, ii. 184, 5. See Cod. Dipl. iv. 40.
Footnote 943:
On the “lignea basilica,” represented by the Lady chapel, commonly
called that of Saint Joseph, see above, p. 427. On its history, see
Professor Willis’s Architectural History of Glastonbury, pp. 3, 47,
where the tract of William of Malmesbury De Antiquitate Glastoniensis
Ecclesiæ is made use of with the author’s accustomed skill.
Footnote 944:
See above, p. 399.
Footnote 945:
Will. Malms. Gest. Reg. ii. 184. “Super sepulcrum pallium misit
versicoloribus figuris pavonum, ut videtur, intextum.”
Footnote 946:
The translation is recorded by Florence and all the Chronicles, under
the year 1023, but the Worcester Chronicle alone enters into any
details. Osbern, the biographer of Ælfheah, describes his translation
at great length in a special tract; Anglia Sacra, ii. 143.
Footnote 947:
Will. Malms, ii. 181.
Footnote 948:
See above, pp. 275, 394.
Footnote 949:
Hist. Rams. lxxxi. p. 437. The description of the second church, built
near the first, reminds one of Glastonbury, and is worthy the
attention of the architectural antiquary.
Footnote 950:
Ib. lxxx. “Interea Cnuto rex Christianissimus nulli prædecessorum
suorum regum comparatione virtutum vel bellica exercitatione inferior,
cœpit sanctam ecclesiam enixissime venerari, et religiosorum caussis
virorum patrocinari, eleemosynis profluere, justas leges, vel novas
condere, vel antiquitus conditas observare. Quumque non solum Angliæ,
sed et Daciæ simul et Norguegiæ principaretur, erat tamen humilitate
cernuus, usus venerei parcus, alloquio dulcis, ad bona suadibilis, ad
misericordiam proclivis, amatorum pacis amator fidissimus, in eos
autem, qui vel latrocinio vel deprædatione jura regni violassent,
ultor severissimus.”
Footnote 951:
Adam of Bremen (ii. 53) mentions several of them, as Bernhard in
Scania, Gerbrand in Zealand, Reginberht in Funen. These hardly sound
like the names of Englishmen. Gerbrand signs an English charter as
Bishop of Roskild in 1022. Cod. Dipl. iv. 13.
Footnote 952:
Will. Malms. ii. 186.
Footnote 953:
This very curious story is told at length by Eadmer (Hist. Nov. ii.
416). The Archbishop comes “audita divitis fama regni Anglorum.”
Eadmer contrasts the days of Cnut with his own; “Illis quippe diebus
hic mos Anglis erat patrocinia sanctorum omnibus sæculi rebus
anteferre.” Æthelnoth gave the Archbishop a splendidly embroidered
cope, a specimen of English workmanship (“cappam illi valde pretiosam
aurifrigio ex omni parte ornatam dedit”).
Footnote 954:
Chron. S. Max., Labbé, ii. 209. “Anno MXLIX. Kalendis Novembris
dedicatum est monasterium S. Hilarii Pictavensis.... Istud monasterium
magna ex parte construxerat regina Anglorum per manus Gauterii
Coorlandi.” This must mean Emma and not Eadgyth.
Footnote 955:
Compare Snorro’s description of the reign of Cnut (c. 139; Laing, ii.
194); “In his whole kingdom [seemingly both England and Denmark] peace
was so well established that no man dared break it. The people of the
country kept their peace towards each other, and had their old country
law: and for this he was greatly celebrated in all countries.”]
Footnote 956:
On the Housecarls, see Appendix KKK.
Footnote 957:
See, above all, the account of the “heorð-werod” of Brihtnoth at
Maldon. See above, p. 271.
Footnote 958:
On the “Witherlags Ret” or “Leges Castrenses” of Cnut, see Appendix
KKK.
Footnote 959:
See vol. iii. ch. xiv., end of § 2.
Footnote 960:
See above, p. 351.
Footnote 961:
See above, p. 344, and Lappenberg’s note at p. 475 in the original.
Mr. Thorpe (ii. 210) has turned Eilaf or Eglaf into Ulf, to the utter
perversion of Lappenberg’s meaning. Eglaf’s name is attached to
several charters of Cnut. See Cod. Dipl. iv. 2, 28, 29. On the death
of Cnut he is said (Brut y Tywysogion, 1036), for what cause we are
not told, to have left England and to have sought a refuge in Germany.
One can hardly doubt as to the identity of these two Eglafs; yet the
words of the Brut (1020) might almost make us think that Eglaf was
some wandering wiking; “After that Eilad (al. Eilaf) came to the isle
of Britain, and Dyved was devastated and Menevia was demolished.”
Footnote 962:
Ann. Camb. 1022. “Eilaf vastavit Demetiam. Menevia fracta est.”
Footnote 963:
Ann. Camb. 1035; Brut. 1033.
Footnote 964:
See above, p. 379.
Footnote 965:
See above, p. 429.
Footnote 966:
On the Northumbrian Earls see Appendix KK, and on the cession of
Lothian see Appendix I.
Footnote 967:
On Cnut’s relations with Scotland, see Appendix LL.
Footnote 968:
Simeon (Hist. Eccl. Dun. iii. 5); “De ecclesia quam inceperat solam
turrim occidentalem imperfectam reliquit.”
Footnote 969:
Simeon, Hist. Dun. iii. 6; Flor. Wig. 1020.
Footnote 970:
See Appendix I.
Footnote 971:
See Appendix LLL.
Footnote 972:
See Appendix LLL.
Footnote 973:
See above, p. 131, and Appendix G.
Footnote 974:
Fordun, iv. 43 (Gale, p. 686). But see Robertson, i. 100 et seqq.
Footnote 975:
Fordun, iv. 44; Chron. 1034.
Footnote 976:
Fordun, iv. 44. “Malcolmo Cumbriæ regionem pater statim ut coronatus
est donavit.”
Footnote 977:
The Saga of Olaf Haraldsson or Saint Olaf forms the greater part of
the second volume of Mr. Laing’s translation of Snorro’s Heimskringla.
I use it freely, though with caution, for Northern affairs. It is at
all events more trustworthy than Saxo and Swegen Aggesson.
Footnote 978:
See Adam of Bremen, ii. 55 (cf. 59). His words are remarkable; “Inter
Chnut et Olaph, regem Nortmannorum, continuum fuit bellum, nec
cessavit omnibus diebus vitæ eorum; Danis pro imperio certantibus,
Nortmannis vero pugnantibus pro libertate. In qua re justior mihi visa
est caussa Olaph, cui bellum necessarium magis fuit quam voluntarium.”
He goes on with an elaborate panegyric on Olaf. Adam’s judgement is
clearly right on the whole, though Cnut had perhaps as much to say for
himself as warlike kings commonly have.
On the name _Nortmanni_, see Appendix T.
Footnote 979:
Snorro’s account (c. 139; Laing, ii. 192) is here very distinct.
Footnote 980:
See above, p. 379.
Footnote 981:
See above, p. 370, and Appendix VV.
Footnote 982:
See Adam of Bremen, ii. 55, and cf. Florence, 1027.
Footnote 983:
Adam, u. s.
Footnote 984:
Snorro, c. 74 (Laing, ii. 84).
Footnote 985:
Snorro, c. 140 (Laing, ii. 194).
Footnote 986:
On this battle see Appendix MMM.
Footnote 987:
Flor. Wig. 1027; Saxo, 196. “Olavum vero per Norvagiensium quosdam
pecunia a se corruptos domestico bello opprimendum curavit.” Snorro,
capp. 165, 171, 175. In an earlier part of his story (c. 34) Snorro
remarks that the Norwegians preferred a foreign and absentee King, who
simply took tribute, and let the ancient laws and usages alone, while
a native and resident King commonly interfered with them.
Footnote 988:
Snorro, c. 180. The entry in the Durham Annals is “Cnut Rex Anglorum
fit et rex Danorum.” Here is one of the common confusions between
Danes and Norwegians; but it shows a remembrance of the fact (see
above, p. 422) that Cnut had not become King of England and Denmark at
the same time.
Footnote 989:
See Snorro, c. 235 et seqq.; Flor. Wig. 1030; Adam, ii. 55, 59. The
battle is a well attested fact, yet Adam says; “Alii dicunt eum in
bello peremptum, quidam vero in medio populi circo ad ludibrium magis
expositum.” [The title of “martyr” seemingly suggested the
amphitheatre.] “Sunt alii qui asserunt illum in gratia regis Chnut
latenter occisum, quod et magis verum esse non diffidimus, eo quod
regnum ejus invasit.”]
Footnote 990:
See Appendix NNN.
Footnote 991:
See Appendix NNN.
Footnote 992:
William the Third of Poitiers and Fifth of Aquitaine reigned from 990
to 1029. His connexion with Cnut is described by Ademar (iii. 41; ap.
Pertz, iv. 134); “Necnon et regem Danamarcorum et Anglorum, nomine
Canotum, ita sibi summo favore devinxerat, ut singulis annis
legationes eorum exciperet pretiosis cum muneribus, ipseque
pretiosiora eis remitteret munera.” The book is described as “Codex
literis aureis scriptus, in quo nomina sanctorum distincta cum
imaginibus continebatur.” Conc. Lemov. 1031; ap. Labbé, Conc. ix. 882,
quoted by Pertz. Cnut and Emma, as we shall see again, had rather a
fancy for making presents of books.
Footnote 993:
See above, p. 221.
Footnote 994:
See above, pp. 164, 254.
Footnote 995:
In Rudolf Glaber (ii. 2) Richard appears as “Rotomagorum dux.” Duke or
Earl of Rouen (Rudu Jarl) is also the title which the Norman princes
bear in the Northern Sagas. See Vita Olai Trygg. p. 263, and Laing,
ii. 16. Richard is “dux” here; he is “Rotomagorum comes” in cap. 8,
and “Princeps” in iii. 1. In Ademar (iii. 55) he is “Comes Rotomensis”
and “Rotomagi.” Richard calls himself (D’Achery, iii. 386) “Marchio
Nortmanniæ.” See Appendix T.
Footnote 996:
See above, p. 185.
Footnote 997:
King Robert in 1006 confirmed the foundation of Fécamp, “pia petitione
dilectissimi fidelis nostri Ricardi comitis.” Gallia Christiana, xi.
Inst. 8. One can hardly fancy this formula being used fifty years
earlier or fifty years later.
Footnote 998:
This is a very common act of formal submission, even when submission
was merely formal; but, after being very common under Richard, it dies
out under William.
Footnote 999:
King Robert’s domestic troubles, his uncanonical marriage with his
first wife, and the bondage in which he lived to his second, are well
known. Constance, according to Rudolf Glaber (iii. 9), was
“avarissima, maritique magistra.” The flocking of her southern
countrymen to the court of Paris is described by Rudolf in language
which reminds one of England under Henry the Third.
Footnote 1000:
This Burgundian war is described by R. Glaber, ii. 8; Will. Gem. v.
15. The Norman contingent is said to have amounted to 30,000 men.
Footnote 1001:
See Sigebert’s Chron. 1006 (Pertz, vi. 354), and the Gesta Episc.
Cameracensium, i. 33 (Pertz, vii. 414, 435). Both writers allow Robert
the title of “Francorum rex;” Richard is in Sigebert “Comes
Nortmannorum,” in the Gesta “Rotomagensium dux.” (In the Chronicon
Scotorum, p. 266, he is “Ricard rí Frainge.”) I need hardly say that
the Emperor Henry the Second was a canonized saint, and King Robert
certainly deserved that honour as much as many who received it.
Footnote 1002:
The marriage contract of Judith is given in Martène and Durand’s
Thesaurus Novus, i. 123. She founded the abbey of Bernay in 1013. W.
Gem. vii. 22. See Neustria Pia, 398. Her church is standing, though
desecrated, a noble example of early Norman Romanesque.
Footnote 1003:
W. Gem. v. 13. Count Geoffrey going on a pilgrimage to Rome, left his
dominions and his sons “sub ducis advocatu.” He died on his way home.
Footnote 1004:
On the war with Odo, see W. Gem. v. 10–12; Roman de Rou, 6588–6974.
Cf. R. Glaber, iii. 2, 9.
Footnote 1005:
“Castrum Tegulense,” W. Gem. v. 10. “Tuillieres,” Roman de Rou, 6627.
Footnote 1006:
See above, p. 255.
Footnote 1007:
See above, pp. 285, 302.
Footnote 1008:
See above, pp. 216, et seqq., 234.
Footnote 1009:
“Adscitis Britonibus cum Normannorum legionibus,” says William of
Jumièges, v. 10.
Footnote 1010:
W. Gem. v. 11; Roman de Rou, 6885–6928. On Dol, see vol. iii. ch. xii.
§ 4.
Footnote 1011:
The names in William of Jumièges are Olavus and Lacman. The printed
text of the Roman de Rou has Golan and Coman, but the manuscripts seem
to have various forms, Solan, Laman, and Olef. Mr. Thorpe (Lappenberg,
Norman Kings, p. 35) points out the error of Depping (ii. 177) and
Prevost (Roman de Rou, i. 346), who suppose this Olaf to be Olaf
Tryggvesson. Nothing can be plainer than that both William and Wace
meant their Olaf for Olaf Haraldsson, as they speak of his subsequent
martyrdom. Mr. Thorpe adds, “Lagman is the name of an office. Angl.
_lawman_.” So it is, and names of offices, from Pharaoh onwards, have
often been mistaken for proper names; but would a King, specially a
King of the sea, be called a Lawman? Lagman too is a real Scandinavian
name. Lagman, Harold, and Olaf appear as brothers in the history of
Man (Chron. Man. 4. ed. Munch, A. 1075.) Mr. Thorpe also supposes that
the two Kings were “two petty Scandinavian potentates from Ireland.”
Depping (ii. 175) identifies this expedition with one in which certain
Northmen from Denmark and Ireland invaded Aquitaine (Ademar, iii. 53,
ap. Pertz, iv. 139); but this is placed by Pertz in 1020, and the
whole story is quite different. Wherever a wiking shows himself, he
brings a mythical atmosphere with him.
Footnote 1012:
Will. Gem. v. 12. “Robertus ... verens ne ab eis Francia demoliretur.”
Footnote 1013:
Ib. “Satrapas regiminis sui convocavit, ambosque discordes ad se apud
Coldras convenire mandavit.” This is a somewhat lordly style for a
French King to use towards a Norman Duke, but it is a Norman writer
who records it. On the rarity of such assemblies in France, see above,
p. 248.
Footnote 1014:
Will. Gem. v. 12; Roman de Rou, 6975. This of course proves that Olaf
Haraldsson is meant, but it proves nothing as to the historic value of
the story.
Footnote 1015:
See above, pp. 287–291.
Footnote 1016:
The Norman Conquest of Sicily was actually later than that of England;
but then the conquest of Apulia and the conquest of Sicily were merely
two acts of the same drama.
Footnote 1017:
Challon, or Cabillo, in ducal Burgundy, which must be distinguished
from Châlons, or Catalauni, in Champagne.
Footnote 1018:
Will. Gem. v. 16; Roman de Rou, 7292–7370.
Footnote 1019:
See above, p. 234.
Footnote 1020:
Will. Gem. vii. 3.
Footnote 1021:
See above, pp. 252, 253.
Footnote 1022:
According to Ademar, who records several of his exploits, he daily
slew and boiled a Saracen prisoner, and compelled the comrades of the
slain man to eat of his flesh. He himself only pretended to partake.
Ademar, iii. 55 (Pertz, iv. 140). Some of the first crusaders (Ord.
Vit. 749 A) were driven by hunger to eat the flesh of Turks, but their
superiors were grieved and ashamed. Richard Cœur de Lion, according to
some legends, went a step further; he ate freely, and pronounced that
no other meat was so strengthening for an Englishman.
Footnote 1023:
R. Glaber, iii. 1. “Normannorum audacissimus, nomine Rodulphus, qui
etiam comiti Richardo displicuerat, cujus iram metuem,” &c. Cf.
Ademar, iii. 55.
Footnote 1024:
The respectful way in which Rudolf (u. s.) speaks of the Eastern
Empire is worth notice. We read of “Imperator Basilius sancti Imperii
Constantinopolitani,” “tributa, quæ Romano debentur Imperio,” namely
by the Italian cities, &c.
Footnote 1025:
I speak of course only of such civilization as is implied in progress
in science, art, and learning. Political civilization came neither
from the East nor from the West nor yet from the South.
Footnote 1026:
See p. 301.
Footnote 1027:
See p. 342.
Footnote 1028:
See p. 361.
Footnote 1029:
W. Gem. v. 17. “Cunctos Normannorum principes apud Fiscannum
convocat.” “Richardum filium suum _consultu sapientum_ [mid his Witena
geþeaht] præfecit suo ducatui, et Robertum fratrem ejus comitatui
Oximensi, ut inde illi persolveret debitum obsequii.” See above, p.
173. Was Richard associated with his father in the duchy before his
father’s death? The idea is suggested by a signature of “Richardus
Tertius” in De Lisle, Saint Sauveur le Vicomte, Preuves, pp. 7, 9. The
former charter is given in full in Neustria Pia, 215–218, The latter
seems very distinct. It has the signatures, “Signum Richardi secundi
ducis. Signum Richardi tertii ducis.” So the son of Henry the Second
was known after his coronation as Henry the Third.
Footnote 1030:
Will. Gem. vi. 2. “Cum suorum nonnullis, ut plurimi rettulerunt,
veneno mortem obiit.” So Roman de Rou, 7434 et seqq. William of
Malmesbury (ii. 178) more distinctly mentions the suspicion against
Robert; “Opinio certe incerta vagatur, quod conniventia fratris
Roberti ... vim juveni venefica consciverit.” So Chron. Turon.
(Duchesne, iii. 360); “Hic dicitur veneno necasse Richardum fratrem
suum.”
Footnote 1031:
Richard left a young son, Nicolas, seemingly illegitimate (see
Palgrave, iii. 137–142), who became a monk, and died Abbot of Saint
Ouen’s in 1092. Will. Gem. vi. 2; Ord. Vit. 710 A, who records how he
began, but did not finish, the abbey church. Of his work only a small
part at the east end remains.
Footnote 1032:
There is no authority whatever for his common name of Robert the Devil
which seems to have arisen from confounding him with the hero of some
popular romance. The Norman historians give him a singularly good
character, and certainly, unless he had a hand in his brother’s death,
no great crime is recorded of him. We hear absolutely nothing of any
such cruelties on his part as are recorded of many princes of that
age. (See Will. Gem. vi. 3; Roman de Rou, 7453.) Altogether his
actions might make us think that he was of the same generous and
impulsive disposition as his forefather William Longsword (see above,
p. 193). His conduct in the external relations of his duchy was far
more honourable than that of William; but then he had no Hugh of Paris
or Herbert of Vermandois to lead him astray. For another character of
Robert, see below, p. 478.
Footnote 1033:
Bishop Guy of Amiens goes a step further, and makes Robert actually
conquer England; Carmen de Bello, 331;
“Normannos proavus [Willelmi sc.] superavit, avusque Britannos;
Anglorum genitor sub juga colla dedit.”
Footnote 1034:
Archbishop Robert his uncle, William of Belesme (of whose family more
anon), and Hugh Bishop of Bayeux, who was son of Rudolf of Ivry (see
above, p. 258), and therefore first cousin to Robert’s father. See
Will. Gem. vi. 3–5; Roman de Rou, 7591 et seqq.
Footnote 1035:
Will. Gem. vi. 8; Roman de Rou, 7755–7896.
Footnote 1036:
See Appendix OOO.
Footnote 1037:
Will. Gem. vi. 6. The younger Baldwin had married Adela, daughter of
King Robert and the nominal widow of Duke Richard the Third.
Footnote 1038:
Rud. Glaber, iii. 9 (Duchesne, iv. 36). Cf. above, p. 241.
Footnote 1039:
Ib. “Hujusmodi enim fama ubique provinciarum percitus peroptabatur a
multis, præcipue ab Italicis, ut sibi imperaret, in Imperium
sublimari.” If there is any truth in this rumour, the date maybe fixed
to the year 1022, when the Empire was vacant by the death of Henry the
First or Second.
Footnote 1040:
R. Glaber, iii. 9 (Duchesne, iv. p. 37).
Footnote 1041:
Rudolf (iii. 9) seems to know nothing of the Norman intervention, but
attributes the reconciliation to the mediation of Fulk of Anjou. The
Norman story is given in Will. Gem. vi. 7; Roman de Rou, 7685–7752.
See also the Tours Chronicle, ap. Duchesne, iii. 361, and Will. Malms.
ii. 187. But both these writers confound Henry’s brothers in a strange
way. They say that the eldest brother Odo did not succeed because of
his incapacity; “quia stultus erat;” “Odo major natu hebes.” Now
Robert had a son Odo, but he was the fourth in order of birth (“Odo
vero frater eorum privatus permansit.” Chron. ap. Duchesne, iii. 86),
and he was able (see vol. iii. p. 145) to be put in at least nominal
command of an army. The Tours writer also makes Constance favour
Henry, but both distinctly recognize the action of Duke Robert;
“Henricus regnavit auxilio matris et Roberti ducis Normanniæ.” So
William of Malmesbury; “Henricus, maxime annitente Roberto Normanno,
coronatus est priusquam plane pater exspirasset.” Even here there is a
confusion between Henry’s coronation and his restoration by Robert.
Footnote 1042:
On these events and on those which follow, see Appendix PPP.
Footnote 1043:
See Appendix NNN.
Footnote 1044:
Will. Gem. vi. 10. “Ille salubribus monitis ejus non adquievit, sed
legatos infectis rebus nihil lætum portantes remisit.”
Footnote 1045:
“Nimia tempestate acti ad insulam quæ _Gersus_ vocatur,” says William
of Jumièges. “Gersus” is a singular form for an island which is also
called Cæsarea, but whose last syllable, like that of its neighbours,
has a very Teutonic sound. Sir F. Palgrave (iii. 176) remarks that
this is the first time that Jersey is spoken of in mediæval history.
Wace (7937) seems to have thought that a special description of the
position of his native island was needed;
“Gersui est prez de Costentin,
Là ù Normendie prent fin;
En mer est devers occident,
Al fiè de Normendie appent.”
Footnote 1046:
Will. Gem. vi. 10. “Quod puto ita factura esse, Deo auctore, pro
Edwardo rege, quem disponebat in futuro regnare sine sanguinis
effusione.” William of Malmesbury is vaguer and more discreet; “per
occultum scilicet Dei judicium, in cujus voluntate sunt potestates
regnorum omnium.”
Footnote 1047:
Ib. vi. 11.
Footnote 1048:
Ib.
Footnote 1049:
William of Malmesbury winds up his story with the singular statement;
“Relliquiæ ratium, multo tempore dissolutarum, Rotomagi adhuc nostra
ætate visebantur.”
Footnote 1050:
Will. Gem. vi. 12. “Quibus ad liquidum sopitis, en, adsunt legati
Roberto duci a Chunuto rege directi.”
Footnote 1051:
Will. Gem. vi. 12. “Pace rata in diebus suis eo quod valida gravaretur
incommoditate corporali.” So John of Wallingford (550); “Quadam
molestia tactus Cnuto, et sibi et caussæ suæ timuit, et sub quotidiana
formidine discidium et periculum, quod ex parte illa imminere sensit,
studuit terminare.” No doubt these writers fancied Cnut, who died at
the age of forty, to have been quite an old man. Cf. above, p. 254.
Footnote 1052:
It will be seen that I do not look on a single expression of William
of Malmesbury (ii. 188) as evidence enough to prove the existence of a
party in England in favour of the Æthelings.
Footnote 1053:
Robert died in 1035. Will. Gem. vi. 13. So Florence in anno. The
Peterborough and Canterbury Chronicles place his death in 1031.
Footnote 1054:
See William of Jumièges, vi. 12, who however does not distinctly
connect the pilgrimage with the death of his brother. But William of
Malmesbury says distinctly, “cujus rei gemens conscientiam.” So the
Tours Chronicle quoted above (p. 468); “Quare ... nudipes Hierusalem
abiit.”
Footnote 1055:
Will. Malms. ii. 178. “Apud Nicæam urbem Bithyniæ dies implevit,
veneno, ut fertur, interceptus; auctore ministro Radulfo, cognomento
Mowino, qui scelus illud spe ducatus animo suo extorserit; sed
Normanniam regressus, re cognita, ab omnibus quasi monstrum
exsufflatus, in exsilium perpetuum discessit.” So Roman de Rou, 8372.
Footnote 1056:
Will. Gem. vii. 22. “At Robertus ... antequam Hierusalem pergeret,
monasterium Sancti Vigoris Ceratii ædificare cœpit.” So Roman de Rou,
7465 et seqq., 8390. On Cerisy, see Neustria Pia, 429.
Footnote 1057:
Roman de Rou, 8391.
Footnote 1058:
Will. Gem. vii. 1. “Roberti magni ducis.”
Footnote 1059:
Ib. vi. 13. “Sepultus est etiam in basilica sanctæ Mariæ a suis, intra
mœnia Nicenæ civitatis.” According to the Chronicle of Saint Wandrille
(D’Achery, ii. 288) Robert’s burial in this church was a favour the
like of which had never before been granted to any man. This writer
altogether casts aside the tale of Robert being poisoned. “Divino, ut
credi fas est, judicio decessit, qui jam unus eorum effectus erat,
quibus, ut apostolus conqueritur, dignus non erat mundus.” Evil
counsellors had led him astray in youth; but he repented of his
misdeeds—why did he neither marry Herleva nor take back Estrith?—and
gradually reached this high degree of perfection.
Footnote 1060:
The death of Cnut at Shaftesbury is asserted by all the Chronicles and
Florence in anno, and by William of Malmesbury, ii. 187. On Saxo’s
wild fable about his death, see Appendix PPP.
Footnote 1061:
On the division of Cnut’s dominions at his death, see Appendix QQQ.
Footnote 1062:
See above, p. 109.
Footnote 1063:
On the disputed election between Harold and Harthacnut, see Appendix
RRR.
Footnote 1064:
See above, p. 477, and Appendix RRR.
Footnote 1065:
The accounts in the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles, the only copies
which mention the seizure, would seem to imply that it took place
while Harold was still only a candidate for the Crown. Florence (in
anno) indeed says, “Is tamen, _adepta regia dignitate_, misit
Wintoniam suos constipatores celerrime, et gazarum opumque quas rex
Canutus Algivæ reliquerat reginæ majorem melioremque partem ademit
illi tyrannice.” So Roger of Wendover, i. 473. But Harold could hardly
have ventured on this after the peaceful division of the kingdom, and
this business is quite different from Harold’s expulsion of Emma in
1037, though it is confounded with it by Roger.
Footnote 1066:
I believe there were people who, on the accession of the present
Queen, regretted the separation between England and Hannover.
Footnote 1067:
See Appendix RRR.
Footnote 1068:
Will. Malms, ii. 188. “Elegerunt eum [Haroldum] Dani et Londoniæ
cives, qui jam pene in barbarorum mores propter frequentem convictum
transierant.”
Footnote 1069:
Grote’s Hist. of Greece, iv. 205.
Footnote 1070:
See p. 265.
Footnote 1071:
See p. 418 and Appendix CCC.
Footnote 1072:
See Appendix RRR.
Footnote 1073:
See p. 396 and Appendix WW.
Footnote 1074:
See Appendix RRR.
Footnote 1075:
Ib.
Footnote 1076:
On the whole story and the various shapes which it takes, see Appendix
SSS.
Footnote 1077:
Will. Pict. 37. “Heraldum Angli deserere nolebant, vel (quod est
credibilius) non audebant, metuentes affore Danos ad protectionem sive
citatam ultionem ejus.” So Roman de Rou, 9783;
“Mais li Engleiz, ki bien saveient
Ke li frere venir debveient,
Nes’ voudrent mie recoillir
Ne en la terre retenir.
Herout li fils Kenut dotoent,
U poet cel estre k’il l’amoent.”
Footnote 1078:
“Portus Icius,” Will. Pict. “Wincant,” Wace. “Portus Wissanti,” Will.
Gem. Since Dr. Guest’s exposition of the matter, it is hardly
necessary to say that “Portius Itius” or “Icius” is not Boulogne,
still less Walcheren.
Footnote 1079:
Will. Pict. 38. “Officium suum benigne promisit, oscula dans ad fidem
ac dextram.”
Footnote 1080:
“Evisceratos.” Bromton (X Scriptt. 935) describes the process; “Quidam
namque dicunt quod, primordiis viscerum ejus umbilico aperto extractis
et ad stipitem ligatis, ipsum tantis vicibus stimulis ferreis
circumduxerunt, donec novissima viscerum extrahebantur; et sic
proditione Godwini apud Ely mortuus est Alfredus.”
Footnote 1081:
“Cui dum oculi effoderentur, cultro cerebrum violavit mucro.” Will.
Pict. So the Ely History, edited by Stewart, p. 209, where the
narrative is made up from Florence and William of Poitiers. The Ely
History in Gale (ii. 32. p. 508) follows Florence only.
Footnote 1082:
Eadward, as we have seen, had forty ships; Ælfred came “accuratius
quam frater antea adversus vim præparatus.” So the Roman de Rou (9806)
speaks of his “grant navie.”
Footnote 1083:
See Appendix SSS.
Footnote 1084:
Some were _scalped_; “nonnullos cute capitis abstracta cruciavit.”
Footnote 1085:
“Ne wearð dreorlicre dǽd
Gedon on þison earde;
Syþþan Dene comon,
And her frið namon.”
The Chronicler’s way of reckoning is changed since the days of
Brunanburh, when the fight was the greatest ever fought
“Siþþan eastan hider
Engle and Seaxe
Up becoman
Ofer bradbrimu,” &c.
Footnote 1086:
“At the west end, near the steeple, in the south _portice_.” This
makes one think that the present arrangements of the west front of Ely
reproduce something far earlier.
Footnote 1087:
See Appendix BBB.
Footnote 1088:
The letter is given at length in the Encomium Emmæ, iii. 3. The letter
is confessedly a forgery of Harold; it may very likely be a pure
invention of the Encomiast; still anything professing to be a private
letter, as distinguished from a legal document, is a curiosity at this
stage of English history.
Footnote 1089:
“Bononiensium paucos.” I need hardly say that Wissant is in the county
of Boulogne, and that the county of Boulogne comes within the limits
of Flanders in the wider sense of the word.
Footnote 1090:
Enc. Emm. iii. 4. “Illi comes Godwinus est obvius factus, et eum in
sua suscepit fide, ejusque fit mox miles cum sacramenti affirmatione.”
Footnote 1091:
“Devians eum a Londonia.” This writer seems not to know that Emma was
at Winchester.
Footnote 1092:
“Mane rediturus,” says the Encomiast, “ut domino suo serviret cum
debita honorificentia.”
Footnote 1093:
Enc. Emm. iii. 6. “A milite primum irrisus est iniquissimo; deinde
contemptibiliores eliguntur, ut horum ab insania flendus juvenis
dijudicetur. Qui, judices constituti, decreverunt,” &c. We are here on
the dangerous ground of martyrology, and we must be on our guard
against the evident wish, shown in all such cases, to make the
sufferings of Ælfred follow the pattern of the sufferings of Christ.
Possibly too, in the language about these judges, whoever they were,
we may discern an allusion to Saint Paul’s precept, 1 Cor. vi. 4.
Footnote 1094:
Our history gives us several examples of murders, and of murders left
unpunished. But of legal executions for political offences we never
hear, except during the proscription in the early days of Cnut.
Footnote 1095:
Cf. Baron Maseres’ note on the Encomium, p. 31.
Footnote 1096:
See Appendix SSS.
Footnote 1097:
Vita Eadw. 401. See Appendix SSS.
Footnote 1098:
See below, p. 514.
Footnote 1099:
Chronn. “Forðan hit hleoðrode þa swiðe toward Haraldes, þeh hit unriht
wære.”
Footnote 1100:
It will be seen that my view is built mainly on the account in the
Encomium Emmæ.
Footnote 1101:
The year of Ælfred’s death was the year of the marriage of his
half-sister Gunhild. See above, p. 455, and Appendix NNN.
Footnote 1102:
See Snorro, Saga viii. capp. 6, 7 (Laing, ii. 364); Adam Brem. ii. 74.
Footnote 1103:
So the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles, those which do not
distinctly mention the division; “Her man geceas Harold ofer eall to
kyninge; and forsoc Harðacnut, forþam he wæs to lange on Denmarcon.”
So Florence; “Haroldus Rex Merciorum et Northhymbrorum, ut per totam
regnaret Angliam, a principibus _et omni populo_ rex eligitur.
Heardecanutus vero, quia in Denemarcia moras innexuit, et ad Angliam,
_ut rogabatur_, venire distulit, penitus abjicitur.”
Footnote 1104:
See above, p. 106, and Appendix R.
Footnote 1105:
See above, p. 405.
Footnote 1106:
All the Chronicles mention the banishment or “driving out” of
Ælfgifu-Emma. The expression is the same as that which is used in the
years 963 and 964 for the expulsion of secular priests from several
churches, and in 1045 for the banishment of Gunhild. One would like to
know in what this driving out differed from regular outlawry. Possibly
the driving out involved an actual personal removal, while the
banishment involved in a sentence of outlawry was only constructive,
like the Roman _aquæ et ignis interdictio_. Godwine, on his outlawry,
was allowed five days to leave the country (Peterborough Chronicle,
1051). The tone of the Worcester and Abingdon Chronicles certainly
seems to imply that the measure was a harsher one than that of
ordinary outlawry; “And man draf ut his [Harðacnutes] modor Ælfgyfe þa
_cwene_ [a rare use of that word instead of _hlæfdige_], butan ælcere
mildheortnesse, ongean þone wallendan winter.” Florence translates,
describing her as “Alfgiva, _quondam_ Anglorum regina.” Does this
imply any formal deposition from royal rank?
Footnote 1107:
Enc. Emm. iii. 7; Will. Malms. ii. 188. On Adela, see above, p. 469.
Footnote 1108:
The Encomiast (iii. 1), after mentioning Æthelnoth’s refusal to crown
Harold, continues; “Tandem desperatus abscessit, et episcopalem
benedictionem adeo sprevit, ut non solum ipsam odiret benedictionem,
verum etiam universam fugeret Christianitatis religionem. Namque, dum
alii ecclesiam Christiano more missam audire subintrarent, ipse aut
saltus canibus ad venandum cinxit, aut quibuslibet aliis vilissimis
rebus occupavit, ut tantum declinare posset quod odivit.” There is
also what seems to be an allusion to the alleged irreligion of Harold
in a foreign Chronicle, the Annals of Hildesheim, Pertz, iii. 100;
“Hiemali tempore Chnuht, rex Danorum et Anglorum, immatura morte
præventus obivit, et Christiana religio ab ipso fideliter exculta
periclitari cœpit.” Yet Harold is not mentioned, and the entry goes on
with only partial accuracy; “Filius ejus junior, Haerdechunt nomine,
regnum ipsius post eum consensu provincialium obtinuit.”
Footnote 1109:
There is a very remarkable document of this reign, in which Harold
appears, if not as a benefactor, at least not as an enemy, of
churchmen. See Ellis, Introduction to Domesday, ii. 142; Cod. Dipl.
iv. 56; Thorpe, Dipl. 338. Certain revenues at Sandwich belonging to
Christ Church at Canterbury had been seized by the King’s officers,
and partly alienated to the rival monastery of Saint Augustine’s. It
appears however that this was done without the order or knowledge of
Harold, who was then sick at Oxford, and who, on learning the fact,
expressed great indignation and ordered restitution. Mr. Kemble dates
the document in 1038, but it is clear that it must, as Sir Henry Ellis
says, belong to 1039, or perhaps to the beginning of 1040.
Footnote 1110:
See Hook, Archbishops, i. 487; Stubbs, Reg. Sacr. Angl. p. 19. He
appears as at once royal chaplain and monk in a charter of Cnut in
Cod. Dipl. vi. 190, and he is addressed as Bishop in two charters of
the same King addressed to the thegns of Kent. Cod. Dipl. vi. 187,
189. Dean Hook and Professor Stubbs place his suffragan see at the
ancient church of Saint Martin near Canterbury.
Footnote 1111:
See Florence, 1038; Hook, i. 505 (where the appointment is attributed
to Harthacnut). But none of the Chronicles mention the story.
Footnote 1112:
See Florence, 1038, compared with 1046.
Footnote 1113:
“Forðam he wæs nehst his [Eadwardes] modor rǽde,” says the Abingdon
Chronicle of Stigand under the year 1043.
Footnote 1114:
He was in attendance on Harold in his last sickness, whether as a
political or as a spiritual adviser. Cod. Dipl. iv. 56.
Footnote 1115:
The Chroniclers, even while condemning the driving out of Emma, speak
of it in the same breath with the election of Harold, as if they were
both alike popular acts; “Man geceas Harold ... and forsoc
Harðacnut ... and man draf út his modor.”
Footnote 1116:
Chron. Ab. and Fl. Wig. in anno. Thurkill—there were many of the
name—Ælfgeat, and “many other good men” were also killed. See also
Annales Cambriæ and Brut y Tywysogion in anno.
Footnote 1117:
Sim. Dun. Hist. Dun. iii. 9 (X Scriptt. 33). “Defuncto Cnut, quum
filius ejus Haroldus jam quintum annum in regno ... gereret.”
Footnote 1118:
See above, p. 328.
Footnote 1119:
See above, p. 448.
Footnote 1120:
The story is told by Simeon of Durham, Hist. Dun. iii. 6, and more
briefly by Florence, 1020. The canons of Durham are met to choose a
Bishop after the three years’ widowhood of the see which followed the
death of Ealdhun (see above, p. 448); Eadmund asks in joke why they do
not choose him; they forthwith choose him in earnest, but agree to
consult Saint Cuthberht; a voice issuing from his tomb thrice names
Eadmund as Bishop. Eadmund now objects, on the ground of his not being
a monk like his predecessors—an odd reason to give to a chapter of
seculars—but the election is approved by King Cnut, Eadmund makes his
profession as a monk, and he is consecrated by Archbishop Wulfstan.
This story seems to imply a degree of freedom of election in capitular
bodies of which we find a few, but only a few traces at this time.
Bishoprics are in most cases filled directly by the King, with the
assent of his Witan, without any mention of the monks or canons. But
see the history of Saint Wulfstan, vol. ii. chap. ix.
Footnote 1121:
Sim. Hist. Dun. iii. 5.
Footnote 1122:
So I understand the words of Simeon, Hist. Dun. iii. 9; “Magna parte
equitum suorum _ab his qui obsidebantur_ interfecta, confusus aufugit,
fugiens pedites interfectos amisit.” The mention of “equites” need not
imply that the Scottish army contained cavalry strictly so called,
that is, men who used their horses in actual battle. It is enough to
justify the expression if, among the Scots, as among the English, the
chief men rode to the field (see above, p. 271); the chief men, as
usual, would suffer most severely in the actual combat, while those
among them who survived would have the advantage in flight. There is
another entry in the Durham Annals which places both this siege and
the death of Harold in 1039. “Hoc anno Dunechanus rex Scotorum cum
exercitu magno Dunelmum obsidens, fugatus ab obsessis, magnam suorum
multitudinem amisit.”
Footnote 1123:
Sim. Hist. Dun. iii. 9. “Quorum capita in forum collata in stipitibus
sunt suspensa.” See above, p. 329.
Footnote 1124:
Snorro, Saga viii. 7 (Laing, ii. 364); Chron. Rosk. ap. Lang. i. 377.
Cf. above, p. 397.
Footnote 1125:
Enc. Emm. iii. 8.
Footnote 1126:
Ib.
Footnote 1127:
Chron. Ab. 1039. “And her com éc Hardacnut to Bricge, þar his modor
wæs.” Enc. Emm. u. s., where we have a story about a tempest and a
vision.
Footnote 1128:
Adam Brem. ii. 72. “Contra quem frater a Dania veniens in Flandria
classem adunavit. Sed rex Anglorum, morte præventus, bellum diremit.”
Footnote 1129:
In the charter mentioned above (p. 504) we find some details of
Harold’s sickness; “And wæs se king þa binnan Oxnaforde swyðe
geseocled, swa þæt he læg orwene his lífes.” When he hears of the
wrong done to Christ Church, “Ða læg se king and sweartode eall mid
þare sage.”
Footnote 1130:
That Harold died at Oxford is plain from the above passage, and from
the Peterborough Chronicle. Florence says “obiit Lundoniæ.” He
probably had the Worcester Chronicle before him, and inferred the
place of his death from the place of his burial. William of Malmesbury
agrees with the Chronicler.
Footnote 1131:
Chronn. Petrib. and Cant.; Fl. Wig. in anno; Will. Malms. ii. 188.
Footnote 1132:
Will. Malms, ii. 188. “Anglis et Danis in unam sententiam
convenientibus.” So Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 758 C, speaking of his landing
at Sandwich; “Hardecnut ... susceptus est [underfangen] et electus in
regem simul ab Anglis et Dacis.” This comes, with improvements, from
the Peterborough Chronicle; “On þis ilcan geare com Hardacnut cyng to
Sandwic ... and he was sona underfangen ge fram Anglum ge fram Denum.”
Taken alone this might imply that Harthacnut came over, like Ælfred,
to seek his fortune, only with a luckier result; but the other
Chronicles distinctly assert the previous embassy and therefore imply
the previous election.
Footnote 1133:
Chronn. Ab. and Wig. “And man sende æfter Harðacnute to Brygce; wende
þæt man wel dyde.” So Florence, “bene se facere putantes.”
Footnote 1134:
See Hist. Rams. c. 94, 95, for the embassy and for an accompanying
miracle. Ælfweard was a somewhat remarkable person. He was first a
monk of Ramsey and then Abbot of Evesham, which office he held in
plurality with his bishopric. The church of Evesham had fluctuated
more than once between monks and secular canons, the canons being last
introduced by Ælfhere of Mercia in the disputes which followed the
death of Eadgar. See above, p. 263. Many of the estates fell into the
hands of laymen, especially into those of Godwine of Lindesey, who
died at Assandun. They were recovered from Godwine by a legal process,
seemingly before the Witan of Mercia (“coram multis principibus hujus
patriæ”), by the Abbot Brihtmær. But Godwine seized them again during
the absence of Æthelred in Normandy in 1013. One almost fancies that
this must have been by a grant from Swegen, to whom Lindesey was one
of the first parts of England to submit. See above, p. 358. Æthelred
on his return in 1014 appointed Ælfweard Abbot, who again expelled
Godwine, seemingly by force (“fretus auxilio Dei atque regis ... cum
magna fortitudine hinc expulit”). The local chronicler looks on
Godwine’s death at Assandun as the punishment of this sacrilege;
“Godwinus vero qui eas injuste habuit eodem anno(?) Dei nutu in bello
contra regem Danorum, Cnutonem Sweinonis filium, facto occisus est.”
These stories of occupations of monastic lands by powerful men, or in
their names, meet us at every turn. See above, p. 505. Ælfweard
received the bishopric of London from Cnut, who is called his kinsman,
about 1035. We shall hear of him again. See Chron. Abb. Evesham, pp.
78–83.
Footnote 1135:
Rog. Wend. i. 477. So Fl. Wig. “Regnique solio mox sublimatur.” The
place comes from Rishanger, 427.
Footnote 1136:
Will. Pict. ap. Maseres, 39. “Hardechunutus ... generi materno
similior, non qua _pater_ aut frater crudelitate regnabat neque
interitum Edwardi sed provectum volebat. Ob morbos etiam quos
frequenter patiebatur, plus Deum in oculis habebat, et vitæ humanæ
brevitatem.”
Footnote 1137:
See his charters for a grant to Saint Eadmund’s (Cod. Dipl. iv. 60),
to Abingdon (iv. 65), to Ramsey (vi. 192. Hist. Rams. c. 97 et seqq.),
to Bishop Ælfwine of Winchester and his successors (iv. 68). The
Ramsey charter runs in the joint names of Harthacnut and his mother.
Footnote 1138:
Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 758 D. “Claræ indolis et benignæ juventutis fuerat
suis. Tantæ namque largitatis fertur fuisse ut prandia regalia
quattuor in die vicibus omni curiæ suæ faceret apponi, malens a
vocatis posita fercula dimitti quam a non vocatis apponenda fercula
reposci.” Henry then goes on to lament the niggardly practice of the
Kings of his own time who provided only one meal daily. The Ramsey
historian (c. 102) calls him “vir prædicandæ indolis et eximiæ in
miseros pietatis.” King John also was a great almsman.
Footnote 1139:
Chron. Petrib. 1040. “On his [Haroldes] dagum man geald xvi scipan æt
ælcere hamulan [hamelan in Chron. Ab.] viii marcan.” On the word
_hamulan_ Mr. Earle (p. 343) remarks, “This being a dative feminine,
the nom. must be _hamule_, _hamele_; at first perhaps signifying a
_rowlock-strap_, and so symbolizing some subdivision of the crew.
There is not money enough to give eight marcs to every rower.” The
“hamule” then would be analogous to the “lance” in mediæval armies.
But Florence clearly took it to mean a single rower; “Octo marcas
unicuique suæ classis remigi.”
Footnote 1140:
Chronn. Ab. Wig. “And him wæs þa unhold eall þæt his ær gyrnde; and he
ne gefræmde eac naht cynelices þa hwile þe he rixode.” Florence
divides this description, putting the latter clause now, and the
former after what I take to be the _second_ Danegeld.
Footnote 1141:
See Appendix TTT.
Footnote 1142:
“Stir majorem domus,” says Florence.
Footnote 1143:
Florence seems to put the two Danegelds together, but the Peterborough
Chronicle (1039, 1040) clearly distinguishes them. There is a
reference to this Danegeld in Heming’s Worcester Cartulary, 348 (Mon.
Angl. i. 593), in which it is compared with the earlier Danegelds of
Æthelred and Cnut, see above, pp. 371, 418, and declared to have been
heavier than any of them; “Sicuti factum est temporibus Athelredi,
regis Anglorum, vastante et depopulante hanc patriam pagano rege
Danorum Swein nomine, quum maximum et prope importabile tributum tota
Anglia reddere cogeretur. Ob hujus itaque tam gravis tributi
exactionem omnia fere ornamenta hujus ecclesiæ distracta sunt, tabulæ
altaris, argento et auro paratæ, spoliatæ sunt, textus exornati,
calices confracti, cruces conflatæ, ad ultimum etiam terræ et villulæ
pecuniis distractæ sunt. Simili modo etiam actum est regnante Cnut
filio suo, et adhuc graviora vectigalia superaddita sunt temporibus
regni filii Cnut, cujus nomen erat Hardecnut.”
Footnote 1144:
Florence here inserts the remark, from the Worcester and Abingdon
Chronicles, “Quapropter omnibus qui prius adventum ejus desiderabant
magnopere factus est exosus summopere.”
Footnote 1145:
Flor. Wig. in anno. “Accusantibus illos Ælfrico Eboracensi
archiepiscopo et quibusdam aliis.”
Footnote 1146:
Ib. “Episcopatum Wigornensem Livingo abstulit et Ælfrico dedit, sed
sequenti anno ablatum Ælfrico, Livingo secum pacificato benigne
reddidit.”
Footnote 1147:
Will. Malms. ii. 188. “Illum episcopatu expulit, sed post annum
pecunia serenatus restituit.”
Footnote 1148:
Ib. “Godwinum quoque obliquis oculis intuitus, ad sacramentum
purgationis compulit.”
Footnote 1149:
Flor. Wig. in anno. “Cum totius fere Angliæ principibus et ministris
dignioribus regi juravit.”
Footnote 1150:
See Appendix VVV.
Footnote 1151:
See above, pp. 354, 357.
Footnote 1152:
See above, p. 340.
Footnote 1153:
See above, p. 357.
Footnote 1154:
Except in one Danish Chronicle (Chron. Erici, ap. Lang. i. 159), who
ludicrously attributes to Harthacnut, not only his father’s military
legislation, but his mythical exploits in various parts of the world.
“Unde tempore suo super omnes reges mundi terribilis et laudabilis
exstitit. Transivit etiam cum Imperatore in Italiam ad domandum
nationes exteras. Obiit autem in Anglia.”
Footnote 1155:
The ship and its crew are described by Florence, 1040; William of
Malmesbury, ii. 188.
Footnote 1156:
Will. Malms. “Ne singula enumerem armis omnibus instructos in quibus
fulgor cum terrore certans sub auro ferrum occuleret.”
Footnote 1157:
“Securis Danica” in both accounts.
Footnote 1158:
Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 728 E) arms both West-Saxons and
Mercians at Burford “gladiis et securibus _Amazonicis_.” The Amazons
are of course a flourish of Henry’s own out of Horace; but the axes
may very likely come from a ballad. The axe, as antiquarian researches
show, was in use almost everywhere from the earliest times, but the
earlier axes are something quite different from the vast two-handed
weapons wielded at Stamfordbridge and Senlac. This last clearly
supplanted the sword as the characteristic English weapon from about
this time. See above, pp. 273, 391.
Footnote 1159:
Villehardouin, c. 95. “Et li Griffon orent mis d’Englois et de Danois
à totes les haches.” Nikêtas, Alex. iii. (351 B. ed. Paris, 1647). εἰ
καὶ πρὸς τῶν ἐπικούρων Ῥωμαίοις Πισσαίων καὶ τῶν πελεκυφόρων βαρβάρων
γενναιότερον ἀπεκρούσθησαν, καὶ τραυματίαι οἱ πλείους ἀνέζευξαν.
Footnote 1160:
Bromton (so to call him) must have had some authority before him when
he made the significant remark (X Scriptt. 934), “Iste rex
Hardeknoutus per totum tempus quo regnavit regnum Scotiæ subjectum
pacifice habebat.”
Footnote 1161:
See above, pp. 350, 353.
Footnote 1162:
Flor. Wig. 1041. “Rex Anglorum Heardecanutus suos huscarlas misit per
omnes regni sui provincias ad exigendum quod indixerat tributum.”
Footnote 1163:
See Appendix KKK.
Footnote 1164:
“Ut _piratis_ suis necessaria ministrarent,” says Roger of Wendover,
i. 479.
Footnote 1165:
See above, p. 316.
Footnote 1166:
Flor. Wig. in anno. “In cujusdam turris Wigornensis monasterii
solario.” This can hardly mean the principal tower of the church.
Footnote 1167:
Besides the ravaging of districts as chastisement for treason or
defection in war (see above, pp. 371, 378), we find a similar case
even in the peaceful reign of Eadgar. See above, p. 65.
Footnote 1168:
See above, p. 514.
Footnote 1169:
So I understand William of Malmesbury, De Gest. Pont. iii. p. 154
“Quin et Wigorniensibus _pro repulsa episcopatus_ infensus auctor
Hardecnuto fuit ut, quod illi pertinacius exactoribus regiorum
vectigalium obstiterant, urbem incenderet, fortunas civium abraderet.”
If the “repulsa episcopatus” meant the restoration of the see to
Lyfing by the King’s act, this could be no offence on the part of the
citizens of Worcester.
Footnote 1170:
On the dates of Siward’s promotions, see Appendix WWW.
Footnote 1171:
Florence calls him “Comes Mediterraneorum.” His earldom included
Huntingdonshire. See a charter of Harthacnut and Emma addressed “Turri
comiti” (Cod. Dipl. vi. 192). I do not find any of his signatures as
Earl, but he is doubtless the same as Ðord, Ðored, &c., in various
spellings, who signs several charters of Cnut as “minister” and
“miles.”
Footnote 1172:
See above, p. 404. “Hrani dux” signs as early as 1023. Cod. Dipl. iv.
27. We find him holding a Scirgemót with Bishop Æthelstan and others
in Cod. Dipl. iv. 54. He there bears the title of Ealdorman, and we
find that his son, like some other English-born sons of Danish
settlers, bore the English name of Eadwine.
Footnote 1173:
Fl. Wig. “Paucos vel e civibus vel provincialibus ceperunt aut
occiderunt, quia præcognito adventu eorum, provinciales quoque locorum
fugerant.”
Footnote 1174:
Ib. “Munitione facta, tamdiu se viriliter adversus suos inimicos
defenderant.”
Footnote 1175:
The existence of the beaver in Britain within historical memory seems
proved by such names as Beverege, Beverley, perhaps, but less likely,
Beverstone (Byferesstan, Chron. Petrib. 1048) in Gloucestershire.
Giraldus Cambrensis (Topog. Hibern. i. 21. p. 709 Camden) speaks of
beavers in his time in the Teifi, but in the Teifi only.
Footnote 1176:
The Worcester writer Heming seems inclined to make the most of the
mischief. To his description of the Danegeld, quoted already (see
above, p. 513), he adds that Harthacnut “etiam totam istam provinciam
hostili exercitu ferro et igne depopulavit.”
Footnote 1177:
“Ælfrico adhuc Wigornensem pontificatum tenente,” says Florence, a
significant expression, which seems silently to confirm the charge
brought against Ælfric of being the author of the whole business.
Footnote 1178:
Robert of Gloucester, p. 558;
“þe bissop Walter of Wurcetre asoiled hom alle þere,
and prechede hom, þat hii adde of deþ þe lasse fere.”
Footnote 1179:
Will. Malms. ii. 188. “Contumeliam famæ, et amori suo detrimentum
ingessit.”
Footnote 1180:
The coming of Eadward and his friendly reception by Harthacnut is
asserted by all the Chronicles and by Florence; they do not distinctly
affirm that Harthacnut sent for him, but it is surely a natural
inference. The invitation is distinctly asserted by the Encomiast, p.
39. William of Malmesbury however (ii. 188) seems to imply that
Eadward came uninvited; “Germanum Edwardum, annosæ peregrinationis
tædio, et spe fraternæ necessitudinis, natale solum revisentem,
obviis, ut aiunt, manibus excipiens indulgentissime retinuit.”
Footnote 1181:
Cnut married Emma in 1017. Harthacnut was therefore born between 1018
and 1023, when he visited Canterbury as a child. Chron. Wig. 1023.
Footnote 1182:
See the extract from William of Poitiers in p. 511.
Footnote 1183:
Enc. Emm. 39. “Fraterno correptus amore, nuncios mittit ad Edvardum,
rogans ut veniens secum obtineret regnum.” Saxo (202) assigns quite
another motive; “Edvardum fratrem, quem ejusdem nominis[!] pater ex
Immæ matrimonio sustulit, in regni societatem adsciscit; non quod
fraterno illum adfectu coleret, sed ut ejus ambitionem munificentia ac
liberalitate præcurreret, regnique parte potitum totum cupere
prohiberet.”]
Footnote 1184:
Chronn. Abb. et Wig. “He wunode þa swa on his broðor hirede, þa hwile
þe he leofode.” Fl. Wig. “A fratre suo Heardecanuto rege susceptus
honorifice in curia sua mansit.”
Footnote 1185:
See above, p. 317.
Footnote 1186:
Ord. Vit. 655 C; Hist. Rams. c. 116.
Footnote 1187:
“Timidus dux Radulfus,” says Florence, 1055.
Footnote 1188:
See above, pp. 330, 379.
Footnote 1189:
See Appendix KK.
Footnote 1190:
See above, p. 379.
Footnote 1191:
See Appendix KK.
Footnote 1192:
A Carl, apparently the same, signs several charters of Cnut.
Footnote 1193:
Sim. Dun. X Scriptt. 81; De Gestis, 204.
Footnote 1194:
Sim. Dun. 81. “Diutina maris tempestate impediti, cœptum iter
relinquentes, domum sunt reversi.”
Footnote 1195:
See above, p. 327. This story has a mythical sound; still a
hunting-party would give unusual opportunities both to commit such a
murder and afterwards to represent it as an accident. The fate of
William Rufus is a familiar example. Simeon (p. 81) says that, in his
time, the place of the murder was marked by a small stone cross.
Footnote 1196:
See above, p. 520.
Footnote 1197:
Will. Malms. iii. 253. On the origin of Siward, see Appendix WWW.
Footnote 1198:
Ealdred (Sim. Dun. 82) had five daughters, three of whom were named
“Elfleda,” that is, I suppose, Æthelflæd. Of these Siward married one,
who was the mother of the famous Waltheof. Did the two other
Æthelflæds die in infancy?
Footnote 1199:
Sim. Dun. De Gestis, 204. “Qui, quum superbia extolleretur, Brittones
satis atrociter devastavit.”
Footnote 1200:
Ib. “Sed tertio post anno, quum ad Hardecanutum reconciliandus in pace
venisset, interfectus est a Siwardo.” So the Abingdon and Worcester
Chronicles, 1041; “And on þison geare eac swác Harðacnut Eadulfe under
gryðe, and he was þa wedloga.” This independent statement gives the
strongest possible confirmation to Simeon’s whole story. Florence does
not mention the murder of Eadwulf.
Footnote 1201:
Sim. Dun. u. s. “Siwardus, qui post illum totius provinciæ
Northanhymbrorum, id est ab Humbra usque Twedam, comitatum habuit.”
Ann. Dun. 1043. “Comes Siward vastavit Northanhymbrorum provinciam.”
This seems to be put during the ten months of the imperfect episcopate
of Eadred.
Footnote 1202:
Sim. Hist. Dun. iii. 9. p. 33. “Defunctus est in Glocestre, quum apud
regem ibidem moraretur.” Gloucester was, at least under Eadward and
William, the usual place for the Midwinter festival. Chron. Petrib.
1087. Eadward also is found at Gloucester somewhat earlier in the
year. Flor. Wig. 1043.
Footnote 1203:
Simeon (Hist. Dun. iii. 9) says, “Præsulatum illius ecclesiæ primus ex
ordine clericali festinavit obtinere.” See above, p. 507.
Footnote 1204:
So I understand the words (Sim. Dun. u. s.), “Intraturus quippe
ecclesiam, subita infirmitate corripitur, decidensque in lectum,
decimo mense moritur.”
Footnote 1205:
So at least it would appear from Adam of Bremen, ii. 74. “Magnus
statim invadens Daniam, possedit duo regna, Hardechnut rege Danorum
cum exercitu morante in Anglia.” But it is hard to make this agree
with the Saga of Magnus, which speaks of no occupation of Denmark by
Magnus till after Harthacnut’s death.
Footnote 1206:
Adam, ii. 73.
Footnote 1207:
Ib. 74.
Footnote 1208:
Chronn. Ab. et Wig. “Her forðferde Harðacnut swa þæt he æt his drince
stod.”
Footnote 1209:
See Appendix XXX.
Footnote 1210:
“Osgodus Clapa, magnæ vir potentiæ,” says Florence. The Waltham writer
De Inventione (c. 13) corrupts Clapa into Scalp, and his daughter’s
name into Glitha.
Footnote 1211:
De Inv. 1–10. The first inhabitants were sixty-six persons who were
cured by the relic, and who devoted themselves to its honour. “De
quibus ... in primis instituta est villa Walthamensis, nam antea nihil
erat in loco nisi vile domicilium ad succurrendum quum caussa venandi
accederet illuc heros ille.” This happened “regnante Cnuto et Anglis
_imperante_.”
Footnote 1212:
Ib. 7. “Ei præ gaudio a senectute et senio [a subtle distinction],
sicut aquilæ, juventus renovatur.”
Footnote 1213:
Fl. Wig. “Dum ... lætus, sospes, et hilaris, cum sponsa prædicta et
quibusdam viris bibens staret.” Cf. Chron. Petrib.
Footnote 1214:
Chronn. Ab. et Wig. “Mid egeslicum anginne.”
Footnote 1215:
Chronn. Petr. et Cant. The latter adds, “His moder for his sawle gief
into niwan mynstre S. Valentines heafod ðas martires.”
Footnote 1216:
See the next Chapter and Appendix YYY.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
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The history of the Norman conquest of England, its causes and its results, Volume 1 (of 6)
Freeman, Edward A. (Edward Augustus)
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