PART II HISTORICAL STUDIES

NORMANS UNDER EDWARD THE CONFESSOR

As he, elsewhere, justly observed of Edward:

and with whom may be said to have begun the story of Feudal England.

The building of 'Richard's Castle' plays a most important part in Mr Freeman's narrative of the doings of the Normans under Edward the Confessor. We hear of its building, according to him, in September 1051:

We have, thus far, a consistent narrative. There was in Herefordshire one castle, built by Richard and named after him. It had been the cause of oppression and ravage, and its surrender, as such, had been demanded by Godwine in 1051. A year later (September 1052) Godwine triumphs; 'it was needful to punish the authors of all the evils that had happened' (p. 333); and 'all the Frenchmen' who had caused them were at last outlawed. But now comes the difficulty, as Mr Freeman pointed out:

The sentence did not extend to all the men of Norman birth or of French speech who were settled in the country. It was meant to strike none but actual offenders. By an exception capable of indefinite and dangerous extension, those were excepted 'whom the King liked, and who were true to him and all his folk' (ii. 334).... We have a list of those who were thus excepted, which contains some names which we are surprised to find there. The exception was to apply to those only who had been true to the king and his people. Yet among the Normans who remained we find Richard, the son of Scrob, and among those who returned we find his son Osbern. These two men were among the chief authors of all evil (ii. 344).

In me, at least, this discrepancy aroused grave suspicion, and I turned to see what foundation there was for identifying the offending garrison of 1051 with that of Richard's castle. I at once discovered there was none whatever.

Ewyas Harold fits in also with the chronicle's mention of the Normans fleeing 'west' to Pentecost's castle.

We have now seen that Richard's castle did not stand alone, and that there is nothing to identify it with that Herefordshire castle ('ænne castel') of which the garrison had committed outrages in 1051, and which is far more likely, so far as our evidence goes, to have been 'Pentecost's Castle'. Mr Freeman rightly called attention to 'the firm root which the Normans had taken in Herefordshire before 1051, which looks very much as if they had been specially favoured in these parts' (ii. 562); and he argued from this that Earl Ralf had probably ruled the shire between 1046 and 1050. The Earl would naturally have introduced the foreign system of castles, as he did the foreign fashion of fighting on horseback. Indeed, speaking of the capture of Hereford in 1055, Mr Freeman wrote:

It is an obvious conjecture that the fortress destroyed by Gruffyd was a Norman castle raised by Ralph. A chief who was so anxious to make his people conform to Norman ways of fighting would hardly lag behind his neighbour at Richard's castle. He would be among the first at once to provide himself with a dwelling-place and his capital with a defence according to the latest continental patterns (ii. 391).

I have endeavoured to make clear my meaning, namely, that Mr Freeman's view that 'Richard's castle' stood alone as 'the castle', and that Richard and his garrison were the special offenders under Edward the Confessor, is not only destitute of all foundations, but at variance with the facts of the case. When we read of Herefordshire (1067) that

The Norman colony, planted in that region by Eadward and so strangely tolerated by Harold, was still doing its work. Osbern had been sheriff under Edward, even when Harold was Earl of the shire, and his father Richard, the old offender, still lived (iv. 64)—

Let us now turn from the Herefordshire colony, planted, I think, not so much by King Edward as by his Earl Ralph, just as Earl William (Fitz Osbern) planted a fresh one after the Conquest.

Among the Normans allowed to remain, on the triumph of Godwine's party in 1052, Florence mentions 'Ælfredum regis stratorem'. On him Mr Freeman thus comments:

'A private fortress ... would seem even stranger to us now than it seemed to our forefathers when Richard the son of Scrob raised the first castle on English ground' (Norm. Conq., v. 640). 'It was the first fortress which was raised in England for the indulgence of private insolence and greed, and not for the protection of Englishmen; it was to be the first of many, and the evil deeds which Richard's men wrought were a foretaste of the evil times when fortresses such as his were common in the land' (Norman Britain, p. 64).

MR FREEMAN AND THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS

Ὅταν ὁ ἰσχυρὸς καθωπλισμένος φυλάσσῃ τὴν ἑαυτοῦ αὐλήν, ἐν εἰρἑνῃ ἐστὶν τὰ ὑπάρχοντα αὐτοῦ. ἐπὰν δε ἰσχυρότερος αὐτοῦ ἐπελθὼν νικήσῃ αὐτόν, τὴν πανοπλίαν αὐτοῦ αἴρει ἐφ᾽ ᾗ ἐπεποίθει.

on its historic importance I need not dwell; it is the very subject of my history.... Looking also at the fight simply as a battle, it is one of the most memorable in all military history.

That is the first point. The second is that in his battle pieces our author was always at his best. Essentially a concrete historian, objective as Macaulay in his treatment, he loved incident and action; loved them, indeed, so well, that he could scarcely bring himself to omit the smallest details of a skirmish:

Precentor Venables has well described

that wonderful discourse, one of his greatest triumphs—in which, with flashing eye and thrilling voice, he made the great fight of Senlac—as he loved to call it, discarding the later name—which changed the fortunes of England and made her what she is, live and move before his hearers.

My third point is that his knowledge of the subject was unrivalled. He had visited the battlefield, he tells us, no less than five times, accompanied by the best experts, civil and military, he could find; he had studied every authority, and read all that had been written, till he was absolutely master of every source of information. He had further executed for him, by officers of the Royal Engineers, an elaborate plan of the battle based on his unwearied studies. Never was historian more splendidly equipped.

Thus was prepared that 'very lucid and quite original account of the battle', as Mr G. T. Clark describes it, which we are about to examine; that 'detailed account of the battle' that Mr Hunt, in his Norman Britain, describes as written 'with a rare combination of critical exactness and epic grandeur'.

THE NAME OF 'SENLAC'

Before we approach the great battle, it is necessary to speak plainly of the name which Mr Freeman gave it, the excruciating name of 'Senlac'. It is necessary, because we have here a perfect type of those changes in nomenclature on which Mr Freeman insisted, and which always remind one of Macaulay's words:

Mr Mitford piques himself on spelling better than any of his neighbours; and this not only in ancient names, which he mangles in defiance both of custom and of reason.... In such cases established usage is considered as law by all writers except Mr Mitford ... but he proceeds on no principle but that of being unlike the rest of the world. Every child has heard of Linnæus; therefore Mr Mitford calls him Linné. Rousseau is known all over Europe as Jean Jacques; therefore Mr Mitford bestows on him the strange appellation of John James.

None of Mr Freeman's peculiar 'notes' is more familiar than this tendency, and none has given rise to bitterer controversy or more popular amusement. 'Pedantry' was the charge brought against him, and to this charge he was as keenly sensitive as was Browning to that of 'obscurity'. Of both writers it may fairly be said that they evaded rather than met the charge brought against them. The Regius Professor invariably maintained that accuracy, not 'pedantry', was his true offence. Writing, in the Fortnightly Review, on 'The Study of History', he set forth his standing defence in these words:

I would say, as the first precept, Dare to be accurate. You will be called a pedant for doing so, but dare to be accurate all the same.

He who shall venture to distinguish between two English boroughs, between two Hadriatic islands when the authorized caterer for the public information thinks good to confound them, must be content to bear the terrible name of pedant, even if no worse fate still is in store for him.

Was, then, our author a mere pedant, or was this the name that ignorance bestowed on knowledge? For an answer to this question, 'Senlac' is a test-case. 'Every child', in Macaulay's words, had heard of the Battle of Hastings; it was known by that name 'all over Europe' from time immemorial. Unless, therefore, that name was wrong, it was wanton and mischievous to change it; and, even if changed, it was indefensible to substitute the name of Senlac, unless there is proof that the battle was so styled when it was fought.

As to the first of these points, the old name was in no sense wrong. Precisely as the battle of Poitiers was fought some miles from Poitiers, so was it with that of Hastings. Yet we all speak of the Battle of Poitiers, although we might substitute the name of Maupertuis more legitimately than that of Senlac. The only plea that Mr Freeman could advance was that people were led by the old name to imagine that the battle was fought at Hastings itself! Of those who argue in this spirit, it was finely said by the late Mr Kerslake that

instead of lifting ignorance to competence by teaching what ought to be known, they cut down what ought to be known to the capacity of those who are deficient of that knowledge. Instead of making them understand the meaning of the ancient and established word 'Anglo-Saxon', they disturb the whole world of learning with an almost violent attempt to turn out of use the established word, which has been thoroughly understood for ages.

The simple answer to Mr Freeman's contention is, that it is needless to make the change in histories, because those who read them learn that the fight was at Battle; while as to those who do not read histories, it is obvious that such a name as 'Senlac' will in no way lighten their darkness.

The change, therefore, was uncalled for. But it was not merely uncalled for; it was also absolutely wrong. 'To the battle itself,' Mr Freeman wrote, 'I restore its true ancient name of Senlac.' In so doing the writer acted in the spirit of those who 'restore' our churches and who gave that word so evil a sound in the ears of all archæologists, Mr Freeman himself included. I am reminded of the protest of the Society of Antiquaries on hearing 'with much regret that a fifteenth-century pinnacle' at Rochester Cathedral 'is in danger of destruction in order that a modern pinnacle, professing to represent that which stood in the place in the twelfth century, may be set up in its stead'. Precisely such a 'restoration' is Mr Freeman's 'Senlac'. Professing to represent the ancient name of the battle, it is substituted for that name which the battle has borne from the days of the Conqueror to our own. In William of Malmesbury as in Domesday Book we read of 'the Battle of Hastings' (Bellum Hastingense), and all Mr Freeman's efforts failed admittedly to discover any record or any writer who spoke of the Battle of Senlac (Bellum Senlacium) save Orderic alone. Now Orderic wrote two generations after the battle was fought; the name he strove to give it fell from his pen stillborn; and the fact that this name was a fad of his own is shown by what Mr Freeman suppressed, namely, that Orderic, in the same breath, tells us that Battle Abbey was founded as 'cœnobium Sanctæ Trinitatis Senlac', whereas we learn from Mr Freeman himself that

the usual title is 'ecclesia Sancti Martini de Bello', 'ecclesia de Bello', or, as we have seen, in English 'þæt mynster æt þære Bataille'. The fuller form, 'Abbas Sancti Martini de loco Belli', appears in Domesday, 11b: but it is commonly called in the Survey 'ecclesia de Labatailge'.

So much for Orderic's authority.

So violent an innovation as this of our author's could not pass unchallenged. Mr Frederic Harrison threw down the gauntlet (Contemporary Review, January 1886), attacking, in a brilliant and incisive article, Mr Freeman's 'pedantry' along the whole line. But he chiefly complained of

a far more serious change of name that the 'Old English' school have introduced; which, if it were indefinitely extended, would wantonly confuse historical literature. I mean the attempt to alter names which are the accepted landmarks of history. It is now thought scholarly to write of 'the Battle of Senlac' instead of 'the Battle of Hastings'. As every one knows, the fight took place on the site of Battle Abbey, seven miles from Hastings; as so many great battles, those of Tours, Blenheim, Cannæ, Chalons, and the like, have been named from places not the actual spot of the combat.

But since for 800 years the historians of Europe have spoken of 'the Battle of Hastings', it does seem a little pedantic to rename it.... The sole authority for 'Battle of Senlac' is Orderic, a monk who lived and wrote in Normandy in the next century. Yet, on the strength of this secondary authority, the 'Old English' school choose to erase from English literature one of our most familiar names.

Mr Freeman's rejoinder must be noticed, because singularly characteristic. Treating Mr Harrison 'de haut en bas', he expressed surprise that his friends should expect him to reply to an article which had merely amused him, and—unable, of course, to adduce any fresh authority for 'Senlac'—denounced his critic for a 'reckless raid into regions where he does not know the road'. For this charge there was no foundation in the matter of which we treat. Mr Freeman persisted that he had given the battle 'the only name that I found for it anywhere' (which we have seen was not the case), and sarcastically observed that 'so to do is certainly "pedantic", for it conduces to accuracy'.

The truth is simply that the site of the battle had no name at all. As the professor himself wrote:

The spot was then quite unoccupied and untilled; nothing in any of the narratives implies the existence of any village or settlement; our own Chronicle only describes the site as by 'the hoar apple-tree' ('He com him togenes æt þære haran apuldran').

Consequently, when men wished to speak of the great conflict, they were driven, as in similar cases, to term it the Battle of Hastings, or, if they wished to be more exact, they had to describe it, by periphrasis, as fought on 'the site which is now called Battle'.

I may have wandered somewhat from 'Senlac', but my object was to show that Mr Freeman misunderstood twelfth-century writers by assigning to them his own peculiarities. It did not in any way follow from their speaking of a 'Battle of Hastings' that they 'grotesquely' supposed it to have been fought at the town itself: they allowed themselves an elasticity, both in word and phrase, which was so alien to himself that he could not realize its existence, and therefore accused them of ignorance because their language was different from his. In the same spirit he would never admit that the 'Castellum Warham' of Domesday Book was no other than Corfe Castle, although, as Mr Eyton and Mr Bond have shown, the fact is certain.

But the crux is yet to come. To any one acquainted with 'Old English' it must instantly occur that 'Senlac' is not an English name. Mr Freeman glided over this by simply ignoring the difficulty, but was he aware that the name in question, as 'Senlecque' (or 'Senlecques'), is actually found—in France? One is reminded of his own criticism on the name 'Duncombe Park':

When the lands of Helmsley were made to take the name of Duncombe, a real wrong was done to geography.... How came a combe in Yorkshire? The thing is a fraud on nomenclature as great as any of the frauds which the first Duncombe, 'born to carry parcels and to sweep down a counting-house', contrived to commit on the treasury of the nation.

THE PALISADE

A portion of English ground was already entrenched and palisaded, and changed into a Norman fortress (p. 418).... He saw the carpenters come out with their axes; he saw the fosse dug, and the palisade thrown up (p. 419). They had already built a fort and had fenced it in with a palisade (p. 420).

MR FREEMAN'S AUTHORITIES FOR IT

In his note on 'The Details of the Battle of Senlac' (iii. 756), Mr Freeman explained that he had given the authorities on which his statements rested, adding:

Each reader can therefore judge for himself how far my narrative is borne out by my authorities.

Loyally keeping to this principle, I propose to test his statements by the authorities he gives for them himself. I therefore address myself to the passages in Henry of Huntingdon and in Wace.

(1) Henry of Huntingdon

The passage relied on by the historian is this:

Mr Freeman thus paraphrased Henry's words:

Although the writer made it his complaint against one of the editors in the Rolls series that he could not 'construe his Latin', we see that the same failing led him here himself into error. Inde refers, and can only refer, to Harold's troops themselves. A fortress Harold wrought; but he wrought it of flesh and blood: it was behind no ramparts that the soldiers of England awaited the onset of the chivalry of France.

(2) Wace

Two passages, and two alone, are in question—

(A) ll. 6991-4, which Mr Freeman has paraphrased thus:

Wace Mr Freeman

Heraut a le lieu esgarde, Closre le fist de boen fosse, De treis parz laissa treis entrees Qu'il a garder a commandees. He occupied the hill; he surrounded it on all its accessible sides by a palisade, with a triple gate of entrance, and defended it to the south by an artificial ditch (iii. 447).

My criticism on this has been from the first that Wace here speaks only of a ditch, and that Mr Freeman has not only introduced here the alleged palisade, from which Wace's 'fosse' was quite distinct, but has also transferred to that palisade the 'treis entrees' of the fosse. That Mr Freeman did treat the 'palisade' and the 'fosse' as distinct and considerably apart is proved by this passage:

The Normans had crossed the [sic] English fosse, and were now at the foot of the hill with the palisades and the axes right before them (iii. 476).

(B) ll. 7815-26: The passage in question runs thus:

Of the array of the shield-wall we have often heard already, as at Maldon (see vol. i. p. 271), but it is at Senlac that we get the fullest descriptions of it [sic] all the better for coming in the mouths of enemies. Wace gives his description, 12941:

So William of Malmesbury, 241. 'Pedites omnes cum bipennibus, conserta ante se scutorum testudine, impenetrabilem cuneum faciunt; quod profecto illis eâ die saluti fuisset, nisi Normanni simulatâ fugâ more suo confertos manipulos laxassent.' So at the battle of the Standard, according to Æthelred of Rievaux (343), 'scutis scuta junguntur, lateribus latera conseruntur' (iii. 763-4).

The unquestionable meaning of Mr Freeman's words is that Wace's lines (like the other passages) describe the time-honoured shield-wall, 'the fortress of shields, so often sung of alike in English and in Scandinavian minstrelsy' (iii. 372).

This has been my case from the first: it remains my case now.

MY ARGUMENT AGAINST IT

In order to show clearly that I adhere to my original position, I need only reprint my argument as it appeared in the Quarterly Review.

It will be observed that, in this passage, we expressly excluded Wace's poem. We did so because—although, as we have seen, Mr Freeman failed to produce from it any proof of a palisade—we preferred to leave it an open question whether Wace did or did not believe the English to have fought behind a palisade. In rebutting Mr Freeman's evidence, that question did not arise.

There is another argument that we refrained from bringing forward because we thought it superfluous. The Normans, of course, as Mr Freeman reminds us, magnified the odds against them: 'Nothing but the special favour of God could have given his servants a victory over their enemies, which was truly miraculous' (p. 440). William of Poitiers, he adds (p. 479), sets forth their difficulties in detail:—

'Angli nimium adjuvantur superioris loci opportunitate, quem sine procursu tenent, et maxime conferti; atque ingenti quoque numerositate suâ atque validissimâ corpulentiâ; præterea pugnæ instrumentis, quæ facile per scuta vel alia tegmina viam inveniunt.'

But although the evidence of the Bayeux Tapestry, Mr Freeman's own supreme authority, remains absolutely unshaken, it must not be supposed that I rely on that evidence alone. I attach as much importance as ever—and so will, I think, all prejudiced persons—to the other portion of my argument, that if there had been a barricade playing so important a part in the battle that Mr Freeman found it needful to mention it at least a score of times, it is practically inconceivable that all the authorities I enumerate should have absolutely ignored its existence. Judging from Mr Freeman's own experience, it would be simply impossible to describe the battle without mentioning the 'palisade'.

THE SHIELD-WALL

It is a pleasure to find myself here in complete agreement with Mr Freeman. In his very latest study of the battle Mr Freeman wrote as follows:

It is essential to remember that Mr Freeman, throughout, treated the palisade and the shield-wall as separate and distinct. Thus he wrote so late as 1880:

Of this shield-wall my opponent rashly wrote:

Of course, 'the Reviewer's theory' here is no other than Mr Freeman's own.

So, again, in his life of Harold:

Mr Freeman Mr Archer

Possibly they [the house carls] may have formed a genuine shield-wall; but while forming it they cannot have been using the 'bipennis', or the two-handed axe (Ibid., p. 20, note).

I am compelled to repeat what I said in the Quarterly Review.

It is significant that the fact Mr Archer so confidently rejects is precisely that on which I am at one with Mr Freeman, Mr Hunt, and Mr Oman, and to which the original authorities bear witness with peculiar unanimity. Thus William of Poitiers, an authority of the first rank, describes the English as 'maxime conferti', speaks of their 'nimia densitas', and proceeds to dwell on the terrible effect of their weapon, the famous battle-axe. William of Malmesbury tells us that the axemen 'impenetrabilem cuneum faciunt'. Even Mr Archer's authority, Wace, writes of these warriors:

THE DISPOSITION OF THE ENGLISH

But we are not even here at the end of Mr Freeman's confusion. He had meanwhile, in another work, published about the same time as the first edition of his third volume, written thus:

A new act in the awful drama of that day had now begun. The Duke himself, at the head of his own Normans, again pressed towards the standard.... A few moments more and the mighty rivals might have met face to face, and the war-club of the Bastard might have clashed against the lifted axe of the Emperor of Britain (p. 483).

Homer, doubtless, would have made them meet; but a great dramatic opportunity was lost: the 'mighty rivals' seem never to have got within striking distance. Meanwhile, however, the warring hosts are left quite in the background; their fate is that of a stage crowd engaged in a stage battle. I do not mean, of course, that Mr Freeman ignores them, but that he was so engrossed in the personal exploits of his heroes as to be impatient of that careful study which the battle as a whole required, and comparatively careless of consistency in his allusions to the English array.

Now in these tactics we have the key to the true story of the battle. But, first, we must dismiss from our minds Mr Freeman's fundamental assumption, and understand that the English 'hoplites' were not massed in the centre, but were extended along the whole front, precisely as they were in battles fought both before and after. The fighting face of Harold's host was composed of this heavy soldiery, clad in helmets and mail. Arrayed in the closest order, they presented to an advancing enemy the aspect of a living rampart ('quasi castellum').

How the Normans attacked that rampart it will now be my task to show.

THE NORMAN ADVANCE

The Normans dared not face the serried ranks of the English: the maxim that cavalry should not charge unbroken infantry was asserting itself already. But the only means of breaking those ranks, of throwing the English into confusion, was to gall them by archers and slingers till some of them should sally forth, when their assailants would turn tail and leave them to be caught in the open and ridden down. As Bishop Guy expresses it:

These tactics, says Baudri, were crowned with success; the maddened English, as they dashed forth to strike their tormentors to the ground, were cut off in every direction by the horsemen waiting their chance:

This account is both intelligible and consistent, but differs wholly from that of Mr Freeman. It had, however, been virtually anticipated by Mr Oman, who in his Art of War in the Middle Ages (p. 25), points out, with much felicity, that

the archers, if unsupported by the knights, could easily have been driven off the field by a general charge. United, however, by the skilful tactics of William, the two divisions of the invading army won the day. The Saxon mass was subjected to exactly the same trial which befell the British squares in the battle of Waterloo: incessant charges by a gallant cavalry were alternated with a destructive fire of missiles. Nothing can be more maddening than such an ordeal to the infantry soldier, rooted to the spot by the necessities of his formation.

My own theory involves no such inconsistencies. I hold—not as a conjecture based on a hypothetical palisade, but on the excellent authority of Baudri and William of Poitiers, that the infantry were used for the definite purpose of galling the English by their missiles, and so enticing them to leave their ranks and become a prey to the horse. As soon as their line had thus been broken, the cavalry were to charge.

Up to this point, the English army, as a whole, had kept its formation; but now the strain on its patience had become too great to be borne. Breaking its ranks, with one accord, the whole host rushed upon its foes, and drove them before it in confusion right up to the Duke's post:

This explains what had always been to me a difficulty, namely, the panic-stricken flight of the Normans at this stage of the battle. That they should have 'lost heart' (p. 480) at the firmness of the English is natural enough; but that they should have 'turned and fled' (Ibid.) from a force which did not pursue them seemed improbable. The difficulty is solved by Baudri's mention of the wild onslaught by the English. Moreover, Bishop Guy's description of the rout of the assailants—which Mr Freeman assigned to this stage of the battle—agrees well with that of Baudri:

Again, Baudri's poem suggests a novel view by its definite statement that the Normans in their flight reached the Duke's post. Mr Freeman imagined that the Duke himself had been fighting in the front line (pp. 479, 480), but a careful comparison of his two authorities, William of Poitiers and Bishop Guy (p. 482), will show that, on the contrary, they support Baudri's statement. Each speaks of the Duke as 'meeting' (occurrens—occurrit) the fugitives, a difficulty which Mr Freeman evaded by writing that 'he met or pursued the fugitives'.

From this flight the Normans were rallied by the desperate efforts of the Duke himself, who, as is usual at such moments, was believed to have fallen. I deem this episode a fixed point, and it conveniently divides the battle. All our four leading authorities—the Tapestry, William of Poitiers, Bishop Guy, and Baudri—are here in complete agreement. William describes the Duke as 'nudato insuper capite'; Guy tells us that 'iratus galea nudat et ipse caput'; Baudri writes 'subito galeam submovet a capite'; in the Tapestry, 'William (writes Dr Bruce), when he wishes to show himself in order to contradict the rumour that he has been killed, is obliged to lift his helmet almost off his head' (p. 98). It is singular that so striking and well-established an episode is wholly ignored by Wace.

THE FOSSE DISASTER

Now all this is quite opposed to Mr Freeman's 'conception of the battle'. He had, therefore, to adapt, with no gentle hands, his authorities to his requirements. Cinderella's stepmother, when her daughter's foot could not be got into the golden shoe, armed herself, we read, with axe and scissors, and trimmed it to the requisite shape. With no less decision the late Professor set about his own task. Wace's evidence he simply suppressed; Henry of Huntingdon's he ignored; but that of the Bayeux Tapestry could not be so easily disposed of. I invite particular attention to his treatment of this, his 'highest authority'. Retaining in its natural place (pp. 481-2) the second of the two scenes we have described, he threw forward the one preceding it to a later stage of the battle (p. 490). Nor did his vigorous adaptation stop even here. The scene thus wrenched from its place depicts a single incident: mounted Normans are tumbling headlong into a ditch at the foot of a mound, on which 'light-armed' English stand assailing them with their weapons. The fight is hand to hand; the bodies touch. And yet the Professor treats this scene as a description of two quite separate events happening at a distance from each other. These he terms (p. 489) the 'stand of the English at the detached hill'; and the 'great slaughter of the French in the western ravine'. But on referring to his own ground-plan, we find that this 'ravine' and the 'detached hill' were a quarter of a mile apart, with the slopes of the main hill between them.

must have happened somewhere to the south or south-west of the hill. The small ravine to the south-west seems exactly what is wanted (p. 771).

That is the danger. Such a narrative as that which Mr Freeman has given us must 'come to be accepted as historical' if allowed to pass current without a grave warning. It will doubtless be replied that in his appendices, he frankly admits that 'it is often hard to reconcile the various accounts'; but the question at issue is whether one is justified when, as here, the various accounts are not only 'hard' but impossible to reconcile, in constructing a definite narrative at all, instead of honestly admitting that the matter must be left in doubt.

THE GREAT FEIGNED FLIGHT

Through the rash descent of the light-armed on the right, the whole English army lost its vantage ground. The pursuing English had left the most easily accessible portion of the hill open to the approach of the enemy (p. 490).

The result, of course, was that 'the main body of the Normans made their way on the hill, no doubt by the gentle slope' at this point (Ibid.).

The great advantage of the ground was now lost; the Normans were at last on the hill. Instead of having to cut their way up the slope, and through the palisades, they could now charge to the east right against the defenders of the standard (Ibid.).

When we turn from this elaborate theory to the authorities on which it is supposed to be based, we find, with some astonishment, that it is all sheer imagination. William of Poitiers, on whom the writer seemed mainly to rely for the feigned flight, states that:

Normanni sociaque turba ... terga dederunt, fugam ex industriâ simulantes—

words which distinctly imply that this feigned flight was general. Henry of Huntingdon merely writes: 'Docuit Dux Willelmus genti suæ fugam simulare.' No one, certainly, says or implies that it was restricted to the left wing. As for the theory that 'the main body of the Normans' were, by this manœuvre, enabled to seize the western portion of the hill, and thus attack Harold on his flank, it is more imaginary, if possible, still.

Tandem strenuissimus Boloniæ comes Eustachius clam, callida præmeditata arte—fugam cum exercitu duce simulante—super Anglos sparsim agiliter insequentes cum manu valida a tergo irruit, sicque et duce hostes ferociter invadente ipsis interclusis utrinque prosternuntur innumeri.

THE RELIEF OF ARQUES

To illustrate the feigned flight by analogy, I append this passage relating to the stratagem at Arques.

A plan was speedily devised; an ambush was laid; a smaller party was sent forth to practise that stratagem of pretended flight which Norman craft was to display thirteen years later [1066] on a greater scale. The Normans turned; the French pursued; presently the liers-in-wait were upon them, and the noblest and bravest of the invading host were slaughtered or taken prisoners before the eyes of their king (iii. 133).

The manœuvre is elaborately described by Wace (ll. 3491-514) in a passage which ought to be compared, in places, with that on the great 'feinte fuie' itself (ll. 8203-70).

The latter detachment turned in flight and decoyed some of the leading Frenchmen past the spot where the ambush was laid. Then, facing round, they caught their rash pursuers 'between two fires'. I have shown above, from the 'precise statement' which is found in the 'Battle Chronicle', that the great manœuvre which deceived the English was a similarly combined one. Mr Freeman, completely missing this point, makes the Norman 'division', which did not take part in the flight 'ride up the hill' (p. 490), where its slopes were deserted, whereas, on the contrary, they thrust themselves between the pursuers and the hill, and then charged on their rear, riding, of course, not on to, but away from the hill.

So close is the Arques parallel that in Wace we find the same words occurring in both cases:

A cels kis alouent chazant E quis alouent leidissant Sunt enmi le vis tresturne, E Franceis sunt a els mesdle (ll. 3501-4); Engleis les aloent gabant E de paroles laidissant . . . . Torne lor sunt enmi le vis . . . . E as Engleis entremesler (ll. 8241-2, 8262-4);

while William of Malmesbury describes the French king as thus 'astutia insidiis exceptus', just as he describes Harold, in turn as thus 'astutiâ Willelmi circumventus'. Mr Freeman quoted both passages, yet failed to note the parallel.

Perveniens tamen quo ire intenderat, Rex exacerbatissimis animis summâ vi præsidium attentavit: Willelmum ab ærumnis uti eriperet, pariter decrementum sui, stragem suorum vindicaret.

The King, that is, in spite of the ambush, reached his destination (the blockaded stronghold) and then furiously attacked the castellum below, with the double object of raising the blockade and of avenging the death of his followers. Wace is, if possible, even more explicit. After describing the affair of the ambush, he proceeds thus:

Arques, therefore, was duly relieved; the blockading party being only strong enough to defend, when attacked, its own castellum.

We will certainly not say of Mr Freeman that he had not read his Wace 'with common care'—to quote from his criticism on Professor Pearson—but really, when more suo he corrected ex cathedrâ the faults of others, he might at least have made sure of his facts. We will take (from the narrative of the Battle of Hastings) the case of the knighting of Harold on the eve of the Breton war:

Wace Mr Freeman

E Heraut out iloc geu, E par la Lande fu passez, Quant il fu duc amenez, Qui a Aurenches donc esteit E en Bretaigne aler deueit, La le fist li dus chevalier [ll. 13720-5]. Mr Planché says that Wace lays the scene at Avranches. He probably refers to the Roman de Rou, 13723, but the knighthood is not there spoken of (p. 229).

But it is only the feigned flight that connects the Battle of Hastings with Arques and its blockade. We read, as the battle is about to begin, of 'the aged Walter Giffard, the lord of Longueville, the hero of Arques and Mortemer' (p. 457). As our author breaks the thread of his narrative (pp. 128-37) to tell us in detail about those whose names occur in it, we need not scruple in this instance to do the same. Turning back, therefore, we read:

The chief who now commanded below the steep of Arques lived to refuse to bear the banner of Normandy below the steep of Senlac ... and to found, like so many others among the baronage of Normandy, a short-lived earldom in the land which he helped to conquer (p. 123).

In the act of that refusal he is thus described:

Even in the days of Arques [1053] and Mortimer [1054] he was an aged man, and now [1066] he was old indeed; his hair was white, his arm was failing (p. 465).

Yet we meet the veteran again, a generation later, as 'old Walter Giffard, now [1090] Earl of Buckingham, in England ... the aged warrior of Arques and Senlac' (W.R., i. 231). 'Nor do we wonder,' we read, 'to find,' among the supporters of William Rufus in 1095, 'the name of Walter Giffard, him [sic] who appeared as an aged man forty years before' (W.R., i. 472). But even Mr Freeman admits that 'we are somewhat surprised to find', among the opponents of Henry I in 1101, 'now at the very end of his long life, the aged Walter Giffard, lord of Longueville, and Earl of Buckingham' (W.R., ii. 395). Surprised? We are indeed; for, if he was 'an aged man' half a century before, what must he have been when he joined the rebels in 1101? It reminds one of a delightful passage in the quaint 'Memorie of the Somervells', where the artless author, speaking of the action, in 1213, of his ancestor 'being then near the nyntieth and fourth year of his age', observes:

What could have induced him ... to join himself with the rebellious barrons at such an age, when he could not act any in all human probabilitie, and was as unfit for counsel, is a thing to be admired, but not understood or knowne.

One need scarcely point out that Mr Freeman has confused two successive bearers of the name. The confusion is avoided by the Duchess of Cleveland in her work on 'The Battle Abbey Roll', as it had been by Planché and previous writers.

I here notice it chiefly as illustrating Mr Freeman's ready acceptance of even glaring improbabilities.

SUMMARY

We have now—confining ourselves to points as to which there can be no question—examined Mr Freeman's account of the Battle of Hastings. It is, as I showed at the outset, the very crown and flower of his work, and it is, I venture to assert, mistaken in its essential points. Must it, then, be cast aside as simply erroneous and misleading? Hardly. In the words of his own criticism on Mr Coote's Romans in Britain: 'It ought to be read, if only as a curious study, to show how utterly astray an ingenious and thoroughly well-informed man can go.' For there is the true conclusion. The possession of exhaustive knowledge, the devotion of unsparing pains—neither of these were wanting. Then 'wanting is—what?' Men have differed and will always differ, as to how history should be written; but on one point we are all agreed. The true historian is he, and he only, who, from the evidence before him, can divine the facts. Other qualities are welcome, but this is the essential gift. And it was because, here at least, he lacked in that, in spite of all his advantages, in spite of his genius and his zeal, our author, in his story of this battle, failed as we have seen.

Mr Freeman held that his predecessors, Thierry and Sir Francis Palgrave, 'singularly resemble each other in a certain lack of critical power'. His own lack, as I conceive it, was of a somewhat different kind. For if he studied the text and weighed the value of his authorities, yet he was often liable to danger from his tendency to a parti pris. Setting out with his own impression, he read his texts in the light of that impression rather than with an open mind. Thus we might say of his 'very lucid and original account' of the great battle, as he said of Mr Coote's work: 'The truth of the whole matter is that all this very ingenious but baseless fabric has been built upon the foundation of a single error.' Had he not stumbled at the outset over that 'quasi castellum', he might never have erected that 'ingenious but baseless fabric'. As it is, while the battle should be largely rewritten, preserving only such incidents as are taken straight from the authorities, the accompanying plan must be wholly destroyed. Till then, as Dr Stubbs has said of the discovery that 'Ingulf' was a forgery, 'it remains a warning light, a wandering marshfire, to caution the reader not to accept too abjectly the conclusions of his authority'.

What then remains, it may be asked, of Mr Freeman's narrative? When one remembers its superb vividness, carrying us away in spite of ourselves, one is tempted to reply, in his own words on the saga of Stamfordbridge:

We have, indeed, a glorious description which, when critically examined, proves to be hardly more worthy of belief than a battlepiece in the Iliad.... Such is the magnificent legend which has been commonly accepted as the history of this famous battle.... And it is disappointing that, for so detailed and glowing a tale, we have so little of authentic history to substitute (pp. 365-8).

For, as he has so justly observed, when dismissing as 'mythical' this 'famous and magnificent saga' (pp. 328-9), 'a void is left which history cannot fill, and which it is forbidden to the historian to fill up from the resources of his own imagination'.

Accepting the principle here enunciated by Mr Freeman himself, I do not merely reject demonstrably erroneous statements. I protest against his giving us a narrative drawn 'from the resources of his own imagination'. It is no answer to say that his guesses cannot be actually proved to be wrong; the historian cannot distinguish too sharply between statements drawn from his authorities and guesses, however ingenious, representing imagination alone. No one I am sure, reading Mr Freeman's brilliant narrative, could imagine how largely his story of the battle is based on mere conjecture.

What the battle really was may be thus tersely expressed—it was Waterloo without the Prussians. The Normans could avail nothing against that serried mass.

'such a contention, it will at once be perceived, is very different from any mere criticism of detail; it affects the centre and the very heart of Mr Freeman's work. If he could blunder here in the most carefully elaborated passage of his whole history, he could blunder anywhere; his reputation for accuracy would be gone almost beyond hope of retrieving it' (p. 336).

'Blunder', surely, is a harsh word. I would rather say that the historian is seen here at his strongest and at his weakest: at his weakest in his tendency to follow blindly individual authorities in turn, instead of grasping them as a whole, and, worse still, in adapting them, at need, to his own preconceived notions; at his strongest, in his Homeric power of making the actors in his drama live and move before us. Not in vain has 'the wand of the enchanter', as an ardent admirer once termed it, been waved around Harold and his host. We are learning from recent German researches how the narratives of early Irish warfare are 'perfectly surrounded with magic'; how, for instance, at the battle of Culdreimne 'a Druid wove a magic hedge, which he placed before the army as a hindrance to the enemy'. But spells are now no longer wrought

and the Druid's hedge must go the way of our own magician's 'palisade'.

'O most lame and impotent conclusion!' We are discussing whether that account is 'right', not whether it is 'noble'. To the splendour of that narrative I have borne no sparing witness. I have spoken of its 'superb vividness', I have praised its 'epic grandeur', I have dwelt on the writer's 'Homeric power of making the actors in his drama live and move before us', and have compared his tale with the 'glorious description' in the saga of Stamfordbridge. But the nearer it approaches to the epic and the saga, the less likely is that stirring tale to be rigidly confined to fact.

Judging from the desperate tactics to which my opponent resorted, it would seem that my 'attack' on Mr Freeman's work cannot here be impugned by any straightforward means. The impotent wrath aroused by its success will lead, no doubt, to other attempts equally unscrupulous and equally futile. But truth cannot be silenced, facts cannot be obscured. I appeal, sure of my ground, to the verdict of historical scholars, awaiting, with confidence and calm, the inevitable triumph of the truth.

CONCLUSION

'History is philosophy teaching by examples.' In one sense the period of the Conquest was, as Mr Freeman asserted in his preface, 'a period of our history which is full alike of political instruction and of living personal interest'. In one sense, it is an object-lesson never more urgently needed than it is at the present hour. Only that lesson is one which Mr Freeman could never teach, because it is the bitterest commentary on the doctrines he most adored. In the hands of a patriot, in the hands of a writer who placed England before party, the tale might have burned like a beacon-fire, warning us that what happened in the past, might happen now, today. The Battle of Hastings has its moral and its moral is for us. An almost anarchical excess of liberty, the want of a strong centralized system, the absorption in party strife, the belief that politics are statesmanship, and that oratory will save a people—these are the dangers of which it warns us, and to which the majority of Englishmen are subject now as then. But Mr Freeman, like the Bourbons, never learnt, and never forgot. A democrat first, an historian afterwards, History was for him, unhappily, ever 'past politics'. If he worshipped Harold with a blind enthusiasm, it was chiefly because he was a novus homo, 'who reigned purely by the will of the people'. He insisted that the English, on the hill of battle, were beaten through lack of discipline, through lack of obedience to their king; but he could not see that the system in which he gloried, a system which made the people 'a co-ordinate authority' with their king, was the worst of all trainings for the hour of battle; he could not see that, like Poland, England fell, in large measure, from the want of a strong rule, and from excess of liberty. To him the voice of 'a sovereign people' was 'the most spirit-stirring of earthly sounds'; but it availed about as much to check the Norman Conquest as the fetish of an African savage, or the yells of Asiatic hordes. We trace in his history of Sicily the same blindness to fact. Dionysius was for him, as he was for Dante, merely—

But, in truth, the same excess of liberty that left England a prey to the Normans had left Sicily, in her day, a prey to Carthage: the same internal jealousies paralysed her strength. And yet he could not forgive Dionysius, the man who gave Sicily what she lacked, the rule of a 'strong man armed', because, in a democrat's eyes, Dionysius was a 'tyrant'. That I am strictly just in my criticism of Mr Freeman's attitude at the Conquest, is, I think, abundantly manifest, when even so ardent a democrat as Mr Grant Allen admits that

Politics are not statesmanship. Mr Freeman confused the two. There rang from his successor a truer note when, as he traversed the seas that bind the links of the Empire, he penned those words that appeal to the sons of an imperial race, sunk in the strife of parties or the politics of a parish pump, to rise to the level of their high inheritance among the nations of the earth. What was the Empire, what was India—we all remember that historic phrase—to one whose ideal, it would seem, of statesmanship, was that of an orator in Hyde Park? Godwine, the ambitious, the unscrupulous agitator, is always for him 'the great deliverer'. Whether in the Sicily of the 'tyrants', or the England of Edward the Confessor, we are presented, under the guise of history, with a glorification of demagogy.

Mr Freeman Mr Archer

The testimony of Florence is by a witness more unexceptionable than all, by the earliest and most trustworthy witness on the Norman side, by the contemporary Tapestry ... in every statement but one.... The Tapestry implies—it can hardly be said directly to affirm—that the consecrator was Stigand (iii. 582). The representation in the Tapestry is singular. It does not show Stigand crowning or anointing Harold (iii. 620). He rejects the Tapestry's account confirmed of Harold's coronation, following Florence of Worcester's statement—that Harold was crowned by Aldred, Archbishop of York—in avowed opposition to his own reading of the Tapestry, i.e. that Harold was crowned by Stigand.

It has been remarked by Mr Planché and others, that at this point the order of time is forsaken; the burial of Eadward is placed before his deathbed and death. On this Dr Bruce says very truly: 'the seeming inconsistency is very easily explained', etc., etc. (iii. 587) ... I do not think that any one who makes the comparison minutely (between the Tapestry and the Life) will attach much importance to the sceptical remarks of Mr Planché (ibid.). He rejects in toto the Tapestry's version of Edward the Confessor's death, for that 'priceless record' makes Edward buried before he died! Mr Freeman, and perhaps not altogether without reason, follows the saner notion of other authorities, that Edward died before he was buried (English Historical Review, ix. 607).

'Mr Round ... in direct contradiction to the Quarterly reviewer, has found for it [the palisade] an authority in William of Poitiers, and has gone far beyond Mr Freeman himself in giving us the name of the man who first broke it down.'

Mr Freeman My Article

The new castle was placed in the keeping of Henry, the younger son of Roger of Beaumont. A great estate in the shire also fell to Henry's elder brother, Robert, Count of Melent, who, at the head of the French auxiliaries, had been the first to break down the English palisade at Senlac—Norman Conquest, iv. [1871] 191-2. See also iii. 486, and Will. Rufus, i. 185, ii. 135, 402. Of these [sons] Robert fought at Senlac ... [and] was the first to break down the English palisade ... he was rewarded with large grants in Warwickshire, and Warwick Castle was entrusted to his brother Henry—Dict. Nat. Biog., iv. 64. (Mr Freeman's works, of course, are given among the authorities for the article.)

MASTER WACE

Mr Freeman Mr Archer

Of the array of the shield-wall we have often heard already as at Maldon, but it is at Senlac that we get the fullest descriptions of it, all the better for coming in the mouths of enemies. Wace gives his description, 12941:—(Norm. Conq., iii. 763). Now, there are six distinct objections to translating this passage [of Wace] as if it referred to a shield-wall. These objections are, of course, of unequal value; but some of them would, by themselves, suffice to overthrow such a theory (Cont. Rev., 349).

It is most naturally treated under these three heads:

(1) Did Wace believe and assert that there was a palisade?

(2) If so, what weight ought to be attached to his authority?

(3) If we reject it, can we explain how his mistake arose?

WACE'S MEANING

WACE'S AUTHORITY

We come, therefore, to our third point, namely, the weight to which Wace's testimony, when standing alone, is entitled. Here, as elsewhere, I adhere to my position. As I have written in the Quarterly Review:

Let me specially lay stress upon the points on which, when Wace and the Tapestry differ, the preference is given by Mr Freeman himself to the Tapestry as against Wace:

[In the Tapestry] every antiquarian detail is accurate—the lack of armour on the horses (iii. 574). [But] Wace speaks of the horse of William fitz Osbern as 'all covered with iron' (iii. 570).

Wace again, is 'hardly accurate' (iii. 765), we read, as to the English weapons, because he differs from the Tapestry. As to Harold's wound, 'Wace places it too early in the battle' (iii. 497); Mr Freeman follows the Tapestry. As to the landing of the Normans at Pevensey:

Venit ad Pevenesæ, says the Tapestry ... Wace ... altogether reverses the geography, making the army land at Hastings, and go to Pevensey afterwards' (iii. 402).

As to the 'Mora', the Duke's ship, the Tapestry shows 'the child with his horn'; Wace describes him 'Saete et arc tendu portant'. Mr Freeman adopts the 'horn' (iii. 382). Harold, says Mr Freeman, was imprisoned at Beaurain.

This is quite plain from the Tapestry: 'Dux eum ad Belrem et ibi eum tenuit'. Wace says, 'A Abevile l'ont mené....' This I conceive to arise from a misconception of the words of William of Jumièges (iii. 224).

This illustrates, I would remind Mr Archer, the difference between a primary authority and a mere late compiler.

But, even where Wace's authority is in actual agreement with the Tapestry, Mr Freeman did not hesitate to reject, or rather, ignore it, as we saw in the matter of the fosse disaster.

He had seen and talked with many men who recollected things anterior to Hastings and the Hastings campaign. Among his informants for this latter was his own father, then, we may suppose, a well-grown lad, if not an actual participator in the fight (ante, p. 32).

Of the intercourse between William and Baldwin in his character of sovereign of Flanders Wace has a tale which strikes me as so purely legendary that I did not venture to introduce it into the text.... The whole story seems quite inconsistent with the real relations between William and Baldwin (iii. 718-19).

Comment is superfluous.

Having now shown that Wace's evidence is not corroborated, is not in accordance with that of contemporary witnesses, and cannot on the sound canons of criticism recognized by Mr Freeman himself, be accepted under these circumstances, I propose to show that my case can be carried further still, and that I can even trace to its origin the confused statement in his 'disputed passage' which is said to describe a palisade or defence of some sort or other.

WACE AND HIS SOURCES³⁹

Here William of Malmesbury, who was probably using 'Hastingas' as loosely as when he applied that term to Battle, appears to be responsible for the mistake of Wace, who may have tried to harmonize him with William of Jumièges by making the Normans proceed to Pevensey after having landed. Take again the hotly disputed burial of Harold at Waltham. On this question Mr Freeman writes:

This, then, is another coincidence between the two writers, while, as before, Wace found himself in the presence of a conflict of authorities. On yet another difficult point, the accession of Harold, I see a marked agreement, though Mr Freeman did not. Harold, according to William of Malmesbury, extorta a principibus fide, arripuit diadema, and diademate fastigiatus, nihil de pactis inter se et Willelmum cogitabat. Wace's version runs:

Not only is the attitude of Wace and William towards Harold's action here virtually identical, but the mention of his exaction of homage seems special to them both.

The passages, however, on which I would specially rest my case are those in which these two writers describe the visit of Harold's spies to the Norman camp before the battle of Hastings. This legend is peculiar to William of Malmesbury and Wace, and though it may be suggested that they had heard it independently, the correspondence—it will, I think, be admitted—is too close to admit of that solution.

I print these passages side by side:

William of Malmesbury Wace

Premisit tamen qui numerum hostium et vires specularentur. Quos intra castra deprehensos Willelmus circum tentoria duci, moxque, largis eduliis pastos, domino incolumes remitti jubet. Redeuntes percunctatur Haroldus quid rerum apportent: illi, verbis amplissimis ductoris magnificam confidentiam prosecuti, serio addiderunt pene omnes in exercitu illo presbyteros videri, quod totam faciem cum utroque labio rasam haberent; ... subrisit rex fatuitatem referentinum, lepido insecutus cachinno, quia non essent presbyteri, sed milites validi, armis invicti. (§ 239) Heraut enveia dous espies Por espier quels compagnies E quanz barons e quanz armez Aueit li dus od sei menez. Ia esteient a l'ost uenu, Quant il furent aparceu A Guillaume furent mene, Forment furent espoente. Mais quant il sout que il quereient E que ses genz esmer ueneient, Par tos les tres les fist mener E tote l'ost lor fist mostrer; Bien les fist paistre e abeurer, Pois les laissa quites aler, Nes volt laidir ne destorber. Quant il vindrent a lor seignor, Del duc distrent mult grant enor. Un des Engleis, qui out veuz Les Normans toz res e tonduz, Quida que tuit proueire fussent E que messes chanter peussent, Kar tuit erent tondu e res, Ne lor esteit guernon remes. Cil dist a Heraut que li dus Aueit od sei proueies plus Que chevaliers ne altre gent; De co se merueillout forment Que tuit erent res e tondu. E Heraut li a respondu Que co sunt cheualiers uaillanz, Hardi e proz e combatanz. 'N'ont mie barbes ne guernons,' Co dist Heraut, 'com nos auons.' (ll. 7101-34)

The story is just one of those that William of Malmesbury would have picked up, and Wace has simply, in metrical paraphrase, transferred it from his pages to his own.

Yet another story, on which Mr Freeman looked with some just suspicion, is common to these two writers, and virtually to them alone. It is that of 'the contrast between the way in which the night before the battle was spent by the Normans and the English' (iii. 760). Wace, says Mr Freeman, 'gives us the same account' as William 'in more detail', while William 'gives us a shorter account'. I here again append the passages side by side, insisting on the fact mentioned by Mr Freeman, that Wace expands the story 'in more detail':

Itaque utrinque animosi duces disponunt acies.... Angli, ut accepimus, totam noctem insompnem cantibus potibusque ducentes. . . . . . Contra Normanni, nocte tota confessioni peccatorum vacantes, mane Dominico corpore communicarunt. (§§ 241, 242) Quant la bataille dut ioster, La noit auant, c'oi conter, Furent Engleis forment haitie Mult riant e mult enueisie. Tote noit maingierent e burent, Onques la noit en lit ne jurent. Mult les veissiez demener, Treper e saillir e chanter. . . . . . E li Normant e li Franceis Tote noit firent oreisons E furent en afflictions. De lor pechiez confes se firent, As proueires les regehirent, E qui nen out proueires pres, À son ueisin se fist confes. . . . . . Quant les messes furent chantees, Qui bien matin furent finees.... (ll. 7349-56, 7362-8, 7407-8)

This brings me to my destination, namely, § 241 of the 'Gesta Regum'. We may divide this section into three successive parts: (1) the description of the way in which the English spent the night—which is repeated, we have seen, by Wace; (2) the array of the English, with which I shall deal below; (3) the dismounting of Harold at the foot of the standard. I here subjoin the parallels for the third, calling special attention to the phrases, 'd'or e de pierres (auro et lapidibus)' and 'Guil. pois cele victoire Le fist porter a l'apostoire (post victorium papae misit Willelmus).'

Rex ipse pedes juxta vexillum stabat cum fratribus, ut, in commune periculo aequato, nemo de fuga cogitaret. Vexillum illud post victoriam papae misit Willelmus, quod erat in hominis pugnantis figura, auro et lapidibus arte sumptuosa intextum. Quant Heraut out tot apreste E co qu'il uolt out commande Enmi les Engleis est uenuz, Lez l'estandart est descenduz Lewine e Guert furent od lui Frere Heraut furent andui, Assez out barons enuiron; Heraut fu lez son gonfanon. Li gonfanon fu mult vaillanz, D'or e de pierres reluissanz. Guill. pois cele victoire Le fist porter a l'apostoire, Por mostrer e metre en memoire Son grant conquest e sa grant gloire. (ll. 7853-66)

The only part of § 241 which remains to be dealt with is the second. The two passages run thus:

Pedites omnes cum bipennibus conserta ante se scutorum testudine, impenetrabilem cuneum faciunt; quod profecto illis ea die saluti fuisset, nisi Normanni, simulata fuga more suo confertos manipulos laxassent. (§ 241) Geldons engleis haches portoent E gisarmes qui bien trenchoent Fait orent deuant els escuz De fenestres e d'altres fuz, Deuant els les orent leuez, Comme cleies joinz e serrez; Fait en orent deuant closture, N'i laissierent nule iointure, Par onc Normant entr'els venist Qui desconfire les volsist. D'escuz e d'ais s'auironoent, Issi deffendre se quidoent; Et s'il se fussent bien tenu, Ia ne fussent le ior uencu. (ll. 7813-26)

Passing from William of Malmesbury to the Bayeux Tapestry, we find a general recognition of the difficulty of determining Wace's knowledge of it. I can only, like others, leave the point undecided. On the other hand, his narrative, as a whole, does not follow the Tapestry; on the other, it is hard to believe that the writer of ll. 8103-38 had not seen that famous work. His description of the scene is marvellously exact, and the Tapestry phrase, in which Odo confortat pueros—often a subject of discussion—is at once explained by his making the pueri whom Odo 'comforted' to be—

Of these varlets in charge of the 'harness' he had already spoken (ll. 7963-7). The difficulty of accounting for Wace, as a canon of Bayeux, being unacquainted with the Tapestry is, of course, obvious. But in any case he cannot have used it, as we do ourselves, among his foremost authorities.

In discussing his use of William of Jumièges, we stand on much surer ground. It certainly strikes one as strange that in mentioning the obvious error by which Wace makes Harold receive his wound in the eye early in the fight (l. 8185), before the great feigned flight, Mr Freeman does not suggest its derivation from William of Jumièges, though he proceeds to add (p. 771):

I need hardly stop to refute the strange mistake of William of Jumièges, followed by Orderic: 'Heraldus ipse in primo militum progressu ['Congressu', Ord.] vulneribus letaliter confossus occubuit'.

But a worse instance of the contradictions involved by the patchwork and secondary character of Wace's narrative is found in his statement as to Harold's arrival on the field of battle. 'Wace,' says Mr Freeman, 'makes the English reach Senlac on Thursday night' (p. 441). So he does, even adding that Harold

But Mr Freeman must have overlooked the very significant fact that when the battle is about to begin, Wace tells a different story, and makes Harold only occupy the battlefield on the Saturday morning:

I have little doubt that he here follows William of Jumièges: '[Heraldus] in campo belli apparuit mane', and that he was thus led to contradict himself.

Mr Freeman had a weakness for Wace, and did not conceal it: he insisted on the poet's 'honesty'. But 'honesty' is not knowledge; and in dealing with the battle, it is not allowable to slur over Wace's imperfect knowledge. Mr Freeman admits that 'probably he did not know the ground, and did not take in the distance between Hastings and Battle' (p. 762). But he charitably suggests that 'it is possible that when he says "en un tertre s'estut li dus" he meant the hill of Telham, only without any notion of its distance from Hastings'. But, in spite of this attempt to smooth over the discrepancy, it is impossible to reconcile Wace's narrative with that of Mr Freeman. The latter makes the duke deliver his speech at Hastings, and then march with his knights to Telham, and there arm. But Wace imagined that they armed in their quarters at Hastings ('Issi sunt as tentes ale'), and straightway fought. The events immediately preceding the battle are far more doubtful and difficult to determine than could be imagined from Mr Freeman's narrative, but I must confine myself to Wace's version. I have shown that his account is not consistent as to the movements of Harold, while as to the topography, 'his primary blunder', as Mr Freeman terms it, 'of reversing the geographical order, by making William land at Hastings and thence go to Pevensey', together with his obvious ignorance of the character and position of the battlefield, must, of course, lower our opinion of his accuracy, and of the value of the oral tradition at his disposal.

NOTE ON THE PSEUDO-INGULF

There are marks, however, in the Pseudo-Ingulf, of study, not merely of the Battle of Hastings, but of William of Malmesbury's account of it. From him, it would seem, are taken the words 'testudo' and 'tumulus'. The first parallel passages are these:

William 'Ingulf'

Conserta ante se scutorum testudine, impenetrabilem cuneum faciunt. In unum cuneum conglobati, ... testudinem clypeorum prætendebant.

Again, after the disaster caused, in each case, by a feigned flight, we have the rally thus described:

William 'Ingulf'

nec tamen ultioni suæ defuere, quin crebro consistentes ... occupato tumulo, Normannos, calore succensos acriter ad superiora nitentes, in vallem dejiciunt. in quodam campi tumulocetera planitie aliquantulum altiore in orbem conferti, barbaros arietantes diutissime sustinuerunt ... suum sanguinem vindicantes.

The Pseudo-Ingulf alludes but briefly to the Battle of Hastings itself. Yet here again we have traces of William of Malmesbury's words in 'nec de toto exercitu, præter paucissimos eum aliquis concomitatur' and 'more gregarii militis manu ad manum congrediens', which phrases are applied to Harold.

REGENBALD, PRIEST AND CHANCELLOR

The three charters of which I treat are found in the Cirencester Cartulary and are in Anglo-Saxon. The first is one of King Edward's in favour of 'Reinbold min preost', and is a confirmation to him of soc and sac, toll and team, etc., as his predecessors had enjoyed it 'on Cnutes kinges daie'. The third is a notification from King William that 'ic hæbbe geunnen Regenbald minan preoste eall his lond' as 'he hit under Edƿearde hædde mine meie'. The chief points to be noticed here are that the land is granted de novo, not confirmed, and that the Conqueror speaks of Regenbald as 'minan preoste', implying that he has taken him into his service.

It is the second of these charters that is of quite extraordinary importance. I here append it in extenso as printed by Sir Thomas Phillips:

'Vyllelm king gret Hereman b. & Wulstan b. & Eustace eorl & Eadrich & Bristrich & ealle mine þegenes on Ƿyltoneshyre & on Glouc'shyre fronliche & ic cuþe eoƿ ic habbe geunnan Reinbold mina preost ꝥ land æt Esi & ꝥ land æt Latton & ealle þæra þinge ꝥ þar to lið binnan port & buten mið sace & mið socne sƿa full and sƿa forð sƿa his furmest on hondan stodan Harald kinge on ællan þingan on dæge & æfter to atheonne sƿa sƿa ealra lefest ys & ic nelle nenna men geþafian ꝥ him fram honda teo ænig þære þinga þæs þa ic him geunne habbe bi minan freonshype.'

The relevant entry in Domesday speaks for itself:

Reinbaldus presbyter tenet Latone et Aisi. Duo taini tenuerunt pro II. Maneriis T.R.E. Heraldus comes junxit in unum. Geldabat pro ix. hidis (68b).

If the charter were nothing more than a grant from the Conqueror to a private individual of lands duly entered in Domesday, it would, I believe, as such be unique. Historians have long and vainly sought for any genuine charter of the kind; and here it has been in print for nearly sixty years.

But the document, I hope to show, does far more for us than this: it opens a new chapter in the history of the Norman Conquest.

We first notice that the writ is addressed not to Norman, but to English authorities. The only exception is Count Eustace, who was, of course, not a Norman, and who was known in England before the Conquest as brother-in-law to Edward the Confessor. The obvious inference is that, at the time this writ was issued, Norman government had not yet been set up in the district. Urse d'Abetot, for instance, the dreaded sheriff of Worcestershire, would probably have been addressed in conjunction with Bishop Wulstan had he been then in power. But we know that he came into power soon after the Conquest, for he had time to be guilty of oppression and to be rebuked for it by Ealdred before that Primate's death in 1069. But as our writ is of this early date, it must be previous to the treason of Count Eustace in 1067. It must therefore belong to the beginning of that year, when William had only recently been crowned king.

From 'Bristric' I turn to 'Eadric', and ask if we may not here recognize 'Eadric the Wild' himself? This can only be matter of conjecture, but it is certain that these two Englishmen are here assigned the place that would be given to a sheriff, and that 'Eadric the Wild'—'quidam præpotens minister', as Florence terms him—was a magnate in the west (Herefordshire and Shropshire) at the time of the Conquest. Mr Freeman terms him 'a man about whom we should gladly know more'. It is stated by Orderic that he was one of those who came in and submitted to William at the outset. But Mr Freeman held it 'far more likely that he did not submit till a much later time', because Florence says of him in William's absence: 'se dedere Regi dedignabatur'. Orderic's statement, however, is not denied, and Florence's words seem to me quite explicable by the hypothesis that Eadric had refused the 'dangerous honour', as Mr Freeman terms it, of following William to Normandy in 1067 among 'his English attendants or hostages'. Harried, in consequence, by his Norman neighbours, he retaliated by ravaging Herefordshire in August of that year; while Count Eustace also threw off his allegiance and made his descent on Dover.

If the identity of 'Eadric' is matter of conjecture, that of 'Eustace eorl' is certain. But no one has known, or even suspected, that he held, at this period, high position in the west. It may be that, as I have already hinted, he was sent by William to a district, as yet only nominally subject, as being, from his previous connection with England, less obnoxious than a Norman was likely to prove. It would be refining overmuch to suggest that William might also intend to establish him as far as possible from his base of operations at Boulogne.

In any case, we have in this charter a welcome addition to our scanty knowledge of that obscure period when William, as it were, was feeling his feet as an English king. Nor is it its least important feature that it shows us William, contrary to what Mr Freeman held to be his fundamental rule, speaking of his predecessor as 'Harald kinge'.

Before taking leave of Regenbald, we may glance at one of the Domesday entries relating to his lands. Mr Freeman, in two distinct passages, wrote as follows:

An entry in 99 reads as if the same Regenbald had been defrauded of land by a Norman tenant of his own. 'Ricardus tenet in Rode i. hidam, quam ipse tenuit de Rainboldo presbytero licentia regis, ut dicit. Reinbold vero tenuit T.R.E.' (Norm. Conq., v. 751) The rights of the antecessor are handed on to the grantee of his land. ... So in Exon 432. 'Ricardus interpres habet i. hidam terræ in Roda quam ipse emit de Rainboldo sacerdote [Eadward's chancellor?] per licentiam regis, ut dicit qui tenuit eam die qua Rex E. fuit⁶ et mortuus.' (Ibid., p. 784)

Although these two passages are found in two different appendices, the entries thus diversely adduced, are, of course, one and the same. But, it will be seen, the 'tenuit' of Domesday is equated by the 'emit' of the Exon book. One of the two must be wrong. I should accept the Exon text because 'emit licentia regis' is the right Domesday phrase, because it makes better sense, and because it is a sound principle of textual criticism that the Exchequer scribe was more likely to write the usual 'tenuit' for the exceptional 'emit' than the Exon scribe to do the converse. I should then read the passage thus: 'emit de Rainboldo sacerdote—per licentiam regis, ut dicit—qui tenuit eam die', etc.

If my view be adopted, we here detect noteworthy error in our great and sacrosanct record.

Dedi et concessi ... totam tenuram Reimbaldi presbyteri in terris et ecclesiis, et ceteris omnibusquæ subscripta sunt....

De rebus autem predictis quæ fuerunt Rembaldi hec statuimus.

And this conclusion is confirmed by the fact that the king, while granting them, especially reserved the life interest of the Bishop of Salisbury and of two others—one of them, alas! a bishop's nephew—who must have acquired their rights since Regenbald's death.

William [sic] kyng gret Ægelmær Bischop and Raulf Eorl and Nordman and ealle myne thegnaes on Sudfolke frendliche.

Before taking leave of this writ we may note that, dealing as it does with Suffolk, it is addressed to Earl Ralf as Earl, not merely of Norfolk, but of East Anglia. This is of some importance, because Mr Freeman wrote, speaking of the Regents appointed in 1067:

There was no longer to be an Earl of the West Saxons or an Earl of the East Angles.... Returning in this to earlier English practice, the Earl under William was to have the rule of a single shire only, or if two shires were ever set under one Earl they were at least not to be adjoining shires. The results of this change have been of the highest moment. (iv. 70.)

The curious English writ that has suggested these considerations ought to be compared with a Latin one, also in favour of St Edmund's, on which I lighted in examining the 'Registrum Album' of the Abbey. It is one of those exceedingly rare documents that find their correlatives in Domesday. The words of the writ are these:

The relevant Domesday entry is as follows:

Hujus terram rex accepit de abbate et dedit Guernoni depeiz [de Peiz]. Postea licencia regis deveniens monachus reddidit terram. (363b.)

THE CONQUEROR AT EXETER

It must, in the first place, be pointed out that we have no proof whatever of this 'Civic League' having even existed. To apply Mr Freeman's words to his own narrative:

What, then, is the inference to be drawn? Simply this. The 'Civic League' must share the fate of the 'palisade on Senlac'. The sieges which took place 'probably' never took place at all; the League never resisted; the League never fell; in short, there is not a scrap of evidence that there was ever such a League at all. The existence of such a League would be, unquestionably, a fact of great importance. But its very importance imperatively requires that its existence should be established by indisputable proof. Of such proof there is none. One can imagine how severely Mr Freeman would have handled such guesses from others. For he wrote of a deceased Somersetshire historian who boldly connects the story of Gisa with the banishment of Godwine:

One is inclined to ask with Henry II, 'Quære a rustico illo utrum hoc somniaverit?' But these things have their use. Every instance in the growth of a legend affords practice in the art of distinguishing legend from history.

It should, however, in justice be at once added that this story did not originate wholly with Mr Freeman himself. He refers us on the subject of the League to his predecessor, Sir Francis Palgrave. The brilliant imagination of that graceful writer was indeed led captive by the fascinating vision of 'the first Federal Commonwealth', yet he did not allow himself, when dealing with the facts, to deviate from the exact truth. His statement that Exeter 'attempted to form a defensive confederation' reproduces with scrupulous accuracy Orderic's words. And even when he passed from fact to conjecture, there was nothing in his conjecture at variance from fact. From him we have no suggestion that the Dorset towns resisted William or 'stood sieges'. It was left for Mr Freeman to carry into action Palgrave's line of thought, and, by forcing the evidence of the Domesday Survey into harmony with the story he had evolved, to show us, in his own words, 'the growth of a legend'. For, as he observed with perfect truth:

What we call the growth of a story is really the result of the action of a number of human wills. The convenient metaphor must not delude us into thinking that a story really grows of itself as a tree grows. In a crowd of cases ... the story comes of a state of mind which does not willingly sin against historical truth, but which has not yet learned that there is such a thing as historical truth.

Had Mr Freeman done so himself? Did he ever really learn to distinguish conjecture from fact? One asks this because within the covers of a single work, his English Towns and Districts, that Civic League which in the Norman Conquest is said to have existed 'no doubt', is in one place said to have existed 'perhaps', and in another is set forth as an undoubted historic fact:

Exeter stood forth for one moment ... the chief of a confederation of the lesser towns of the West.... A confederation of the western towns, with the great city of the district at their head, suddenly started into life to check the progress of the Conqueror.

Finally, in his 'Exeter' (1887), the same story again appears, without a word of caution, as absolute historic fact. Exeter, we read, was

the head of a gathering of smaller commonwealths around her; ... the towns of Dorset were in league with Exeter.... We have no record of the march, but it is plain that the towns of Dorset were fearfully harried.

Through all Mr Freeman's work we trace this same tendency to confuse his own conjectures with proved historic fact.

For the details of this fearful harrying we are referred to the Domesday Survey. It was 'no doubt', we learn, when William marched on Exeter (1068), that

Dorchester, Bridport, Wareham, and Shaftesbury underwent that fearful harrying, the result of which is recorded in Domesday. Bridport was utterly ruined; not a house seems to have been able to pay taxes at the time of the Survey. At Dorchester, the old Roman settlement, the chief town of the shire, only a small remnant of the houses escaped destruction. These facts are signs, etc., etc.

'These facts', we find, will not bear investigation. To refute them in the case of Bridport, 'there is nothing to be done but to turn to the proper place in the great Survey'. Following this, his own, precept, we learn that there is nothing in Domesday of our author's 'utter ruin'; and that so far from 'not a house' being 'able to pay taxes', Domesday tells us that four-fifths of the houses then existing could and did pay them. Here, again, the errors arose from not reading Domesday 'with common care'. The entry runs: 'Modo sunt ibi c. domus, et xx. sunt ita destitutæ', etc. The meaning, of course, is that twenty houses were impoverished. Mr Freeman must have hurriedly misconstrued his Latin, and read it as a hundred and twenty. No error that he detected in Mr Froude could be worse than representing Bridport, on the authority of Domesday, as the greatest sufferer among the Dorset towns, when Domesday itself proves that it suffered least of all. And so, too, with Dorchester. On turning to Domesday, we learn with surprise that the 'small remnant' of houses remaining there was eighty-eight as against one hundred and seventy-two in the days of King Edward. From an appendix of our author's to which we are referred, we glean the fact that

at Dorchester, out of a hundred and seventy-two houses no less than a hundred and twenty-eight were 'penitus destructæ a tempore Hugonis vicecomitis usque nunc'.

The strange thing is that Sir Henry Ellis's work, though 'far from being up to the present standard of historical scholarship', could have saved him, here also, from error, as it gives the correct figures from Domesday.

But passing from 'facts' to theories, we find Mr Freeman holding that 'no doubt', 'doubtless', 'probably', the destruction recorded in Domesday was wrought by the Conqueror himself in 1068. Why should this guesswork be substituted for history, when we have 'always the means', as our author himself wrote, 'of at once turning to the law and testimony to see whether these things are so'? A glance at Domesday effectually disposes of Mr Freeman's theory; for the Survey is here peculiarly explicit: with anxious care, with painful iteration, it assures us that, in the case of Wareham, the devastation was wrought 'a tempore Hugonis vicecomitis', and that, in the case of Shaftesbury and in the case of Dorchester, it was wrought 'a tempore Hugonis vicecomitis usque nunc'. These categorical statements are conclusive: they place the whole of the devastation subsequent to the accession of the Norman sheriff, Hugh FitzGrip. Mr Eyton, in his work on the Dorset Domesday, held that they fix it as having occurred between 1070 and 1084; the words, however, 'usque nunc' carry it on down to 1086, and, but that I must now come to Exeter, I could show the real bearing of these allusions to Sheriff Hugh.

The breakdown, when tested, of the alleged 'Civic League' strangely vindicates the sound insight of that sagacious historian who explicitly asserted that the English boroughs

Yet, in his English Towns and Districts, Mr Freeman was led by his own tale of the resistance of the western lands and their capital to argue from it as from a proved historic fact:

It does indeed. But it does so for the reason that it is founded on a fact which has no historic existence. Yet, for Mr Freeman, with his fertile imagination afire with the glories of ancient Greece and of countless mediaeval Commonwealths, this same 'wild dream' possessed an irresistible fascination. 'It is none the less true', he hastened to add, that

William might have been beaten back from Exeter as Swend had been, if the military art of Normandy in William's days had not been many steps in advance of the military art of Denmark in the days of Swend.

In the hands of William of Malmesbury the story becomes a romance.... The obiter dictum of William of Malmesbury that Ælfhere had a hand in Edward's death is contrary to the whole tenor of the history ... (i. 265).

sympathy with the old pragmatizing or euhemeristic school of mythological interpretation.... The pragmatizers take a mythical story; they strip it by an arbitrary process of whatever seems impossible; they explain or allegorize miraculous details; and having thus obtained something which possibly may have happened, they give it out as something which actually did happen.... It will never do to take the tale of Troy, to leave out all intervention of the gods, and to give out the remnant as a piece of real Grecian history (p. 3).

This criticism would seem to apply to the 'legendary' tale that the walls of Exeter fell down, like those of Jericho, by supernatural intervention. At least, we may say of the breaching of the walls, when given out 'as something which actually did happen', what was said of the possible siege of Oxford, this same year, by Mr Freeman:

The direct evidence for a siege of Oxford is so weak that the tale cannot be relied on with any certainty (iv. 188).

Having now examined the direct evidence for the statement that the citizens were forced to surrender unconditionally to William by the successful breaching of their walls, I propose to show that the acceptance of this statement does violence not only to the facts of the case, but to all that is known of William's character, to the English Chronicle, and to Domesday; and I shall prove that it rests beyond dispute 'on the foundation of a single error'.

It was his policy now, as ever, to be harsh whenever he met with resistance, and gentle to all who submitted easily.... Harrying then as he went, William reached Romney. The words which set forth his doings there are short, pithy, and terrible. He took what vengeance he would for the slaughter of his men (iii. 533-4).

(1) They were rebels. And for these 'rebels, as they were deemed in Norman eyes' (iv. 135), confiscation was the penalty (iv. 127-8).

(2) 'The movement at Exeter' was not merely a rebellion, but one which was 'specially hateful in William's eyes' (iv. 140).

(3) They had been guilty of 'cruel and insulting treatment' to William's earlier emissaries (iv. 138).

(4) They had offered William himself an 'insult as unseemly as it was senseless' (iv. 155).

(5) They had flung to the winds their own capitulation with such audacity that William 'ira repletus est' (iv. 152).

(6) They had offered a prolonged and desperate resistance, costing the lives of many of his men (iv. 156).

Verily, in William's eyes, the cup of Exeter's iniquities must have been exceedingly full.

Even in cases of ordinary resistance his practice, we learn, was so uniform that Mr Freeman could take it for granted, 'after the fall of Exeter', that

Such conduct would, surely, have been a positive premium on revolt.

A castle, of course, was raised; but this was inevitable, whether a town submitted peaceably or not. For instance, 'it is plain', Mr Freeman wrote, 'that Lincolnshire submitted more peaceably, and was dealt with more tenderly, than most parts of the kingdom' (iv. 216); but 'a castle was, of course, raised at Lincoln, as well as elsewhere', and 'involved the destruction of a large number of houses' (217-8), very many more than at Exeter.

In 1086, we learn:

So far, all is consistent and clear enough. But we find it immediately added that:

Or, as expressed in his great work:

Palgrave Freeman

Tribute or gafol they would proffer to their king such as was due to his predecessors...They (1) would weigh out the eighteen pounds of silver; (2) the geld would be paid, if London, York, and Winchester submitted to the tax; and (3) if war arose, the king should have the quota of service imposed upon five hydes of land.... But the citizens refused to become the men ... of their sovereign; they would not ... allow the Basileus to enter within their walls. We are ready to pay to him the tribute which we have been used to pay to former kings.... The city paid in money only when London, York, and Winchester paid, and the sum to be paid was a single half-marc of silver. When the king summoned his fyrd to his standard by sea or by land, Exeter supplied the same number of men as were supplied by five hides of land.... But the men of Exeter would not, each citizen personally, become his men; they would not receive so dangerous a visitor within their walls.⁴²

The 'commutation of geldability' (as Mr Eyton termed it) was by no means peculiar to Exeter. Totnes paid, 'when Exeter paid', the same sum of half a marc 'pro geldo'. Bridport paid the same 'ad opus Huscarlium regis' (75), Dorchester and Wareham a marc each, and Shaftesbury two marcs (Eyton's Dorset Domesday, 70-72). In these Dorset instances, one marc represented an assessment of ten hides.

What Mr Freeman did was to confuse the first clause with the second, and to suppose that both referred to the 'money payment' of the town, the first under William, the second under Edward. He thus evolved the statement that under William 'the money payment was raised from an occasional half-marc of silver to eighteen pounds yearly'. This is roughly equivalent to saying of a house rented at fifty pounds, and paying a tax of one pound, that its 'money payment' was raised from one pound to fifty.

The paradox itself is beyond dispute, whatever may be said of my solution.

We have in the Chronicle a straightforward story, not only intelligible in itself, but also thoroughly in harmony with the known facts of the case. The king finds himself compelled to lay formal siege to Exeter ('besæt þa burh'); he is detained before its walls day after day ('xviii. dægas') in the depth of an English winter, 'and þær wearð micel his heres forfaren'. The need for sternness was there indeed; but swiftness was to him, for the moment, a matter of life and death. Held at bay by those stubborn walls, learning the might of those 'two generals'—January and February—in whom the Emperor Nicholas put his trust, William was in sore straits. Take Mr Freeman's own words:

But, it may be urged, should we be justified in treating thus drastically the witness of Orderic, or rather, of William of Poitiers? At Alençon, I reply, in Mr Freeman's words:

William of Poitiers is silent altogether, both as to the vengeance and as to the insult. Neither subject was perhaps altogether agreeable to a professed panegyrist (Norm. Conq., ii. 285).

But now comes the curious parallel. Though quoting and scrutinizing so closely the meagre accounts of the Exeter campaign, Mr Freeman seems to have oddly overlooked the significant words of Florence, although, of course, familiar with his narrative. Florence, we find, employs a phrase corresponding with that in the Vetera Analecta.

Florence 'Vet An'

Cives autem dextris acceptis regi se dedebant. Acceptis ab eo sacramentis ... sese et sua omnia dederunt.

It is not merely a question of how Exeter fell. The issue illustrates the policy and affects the character of William. The lame manner in which Mr Freeman accounts for his sudden conversion from fury to lamb-like gentleness is no less unsatisfactory than his treatment of the 'weighty account' in the Chronicle when he found that this, his valued authority, rendered the problem difficult. Even at Le Mans more was needed than merely to print both stories. The fact that we find in 'the Norman version' the truth conveniently glossed over ought to be insisted on and duly applied. Time after time in Mr Freeman's work we find him paraphrasing patches of chronicles, under the impression that he was writing history. The statements of witnesses are laid before us, neatly pieced together, but they are not subjected to more than a perfunctory cross-examination. Even if the accurate reproduction of testimony were all that we sought from the historian, we should not, so far as Domesday is concerned, obtain it in this instance. But the case of Exeter is one where something more is needed, where even accuracy is not sufficient without the possession of that higher gift, the power of seizing upon the truth when the evidence is misleading and contradictory. The paraphrasing of evidence is the work of a reporter; from the historian we have a right to expect the skilled summing-up of the judge.