APPENDIX. (continued 3)

NOTE S. p. 319. The Narratives of the Return of Godwine.

Of the return of Godwine, as of his banishment, we have three original narratives, those of the Abingdon and Worcester Chroniclers, which may be reckoned as one, that of the Peterborough Chronicler, and that of Eadward’s Biographer. Each again show’s its respective character; each has its characteristic tone; each brings some particular facts into greater notice than the others; but there are no really important contradictions among them. The Peterborough writer retains his old character as the stoutest of all adherents of Godwine. The Abingdon Chronicler may be looked on as in some sort an enemy; it is at the end of this year that he breaks out into that complaint about Godwine’s appropriation of ecclesiastical property of which I have spoken elsewhere (see above, pp. 32, 351, 546). But he is not an uncandid enemy; some of the points which tell most strongly in Godwine’s favour come out with great force in his narrative; it is from him that we get the fullest picture of the zeal with which Godwine was received by the maritime shires. He also, as we have seen (see Note R.), though he makes the most of Harold’s ravages, makes the least of those of Godwine. This last feature is not what one would have expected. His dislike to Godwine follows him to his death, but in his late narrative it certainly is not extended to Harold. On the whole we may say that, as a monk, he has a certain personal feeling against Godwine, but that, as an Englishman, he is true to Godwine’s cause.

The Biographer takes his usual line. He is a courtier, comparatively careless of the march of public events, but full of personal incidents which are not to be found elsewhere. His narrative is nowhere richer than in those little indirect and unconscious touches which are often worth more than direct statements. I need hardly 599say that he is the most careless as to chronology of all three. The Peterborough writer, on the other hand, is the most attentive. I therefore make him my main guide throughout the story, but I draw touches and incidents from both the other sources without hesitation.

Thus, at the very beginning, the Abingdon writer makes the great accession which the men of Kent and Sussex made to Godwine’s force (p. 322) happen immediately on his first coming from Flanders, before he was pursued by the King’s ships. This is hardly possible, and we accordingly find from the Peterborough narrative that it really happened later, after the storm and the return to Flanders, incidents which the Abingdon writer leaves out. But it is from the Abingdon writer that we get that most emphatic expression of the popular attachment to Godwine, how the men of Kent, Surrey (a shire which I should have mentioned more distinctly in p. 322), and the other south-eastern districts, pledged themselves to “live and die” with the Earl. William of Malmesbury, as he so often does, follows Peterborough, though he is not without touches of his own.

Somewhat later in the story (p. 324), we find a good illustration of the peculiar value of the Biographer. The Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles clearly imply that Eadward knew nothing of the second attempt of Godwine till the Earl had reached Sandwich; “Þa Eadwerd cyng þæt geaxode,” &c. The question in the text as to the whereabouts of the King naturally occurs. Florence (1052) made a very obvious inference from his authorities, when he wrote, “Regi Eadwardo, tunc temporis Lundoniæ demoranti, illorum adventus nunciatur.” But these words are simply an inference; they do not translate any statement in the Chronicles, and we find from the Biographer, the best authority for the King’s personal movements, that it is a wrong inference; “Audito itaque Rex ejus [Godwini] violento et absque ejus nutu in regnum suum ingressu, quamquam fidem referentibus non accommodaret, tamen cum militari copiâ quâ poterat, Lundoniam venit” (Vita Eadw. 405). He therefore was elsewhere when he heard the news. The writer goes on to say, “Utque acri erat animo et promptissimæ strenuitatis, ingressum civitatis, quà tendebat, prohibere tentabat.” The words in Italics must apply to Eadward, and the Biographer would hardly venture upon satire. 600Æthelred himself, as we have seen, had his fits of energy, and Eadward also had his fits, if not of energy, at least of passion.

When we get to the negotiations on the evening of Monday, it is to the Peterborough Chronicler only that we owe our knowledge of the personal agency of Stigand (p. 329). A year before, the Biographer was the only writer who spoke of him. This is just the way in which, in a story of this kind, our several accounts fill up gaps in each other, and strengthen each other’s authority. The conduct attributed to Stigand at one time by one account exactly agrees with the conduct attributed to him at another time by another and quite independent account. The Abingdon Chronicle simply says, “Geræddon þa þæt man sende wise men betweonan, and setton grið on ægðre healfe.” So Florence, “Sapientiores quique [Roger of Wendover, or his copyist, or his editor, turns this into “sapientes quinque,” i. 491] ex utrâque parte, inter Regem et Ducem pacem redintegrantes, exercitum ab armis discedere jusserunt.” The Canterbury writer follows Peterborough in mentioning Stigand, but adds, rather unluckily, “þe was þes cinges rædgifa and his handprest.”

The adjournment till the morning of Tuesday appears from the words of Florence, “Mane autem facto, concilium Rex habuit.” These words answer to nothing in the actual narrative of any of the Chroniclers; but they are implied in what the Abingdon writer says afterwards; “Ðæt wæs on þone Monandæg æfter Sc̃a Marian mæsse þæt Godwine mid his scipum to Suðgeweorce becom, and þæs on merigen, on þone Tiwesdæg hi gewurdon sehte, swa hit her beforan stent.” We thus see that, in the flow of narration, especially in the rhetorical language of the Biographer, the events of two days have been run into one. This is especially shown in one expression of the Biographer. He makes one of the reasons which made Eadward finally yield at the Gemót to be because he saw that Godwine’s military force was the stronger (“Ducem, quem utique videbat, sibi satis, si uti vellet, superiorem armis”); this consideration would rather belong to the former day. It is clear that the “mycel Gemót,” as the Peterborough Chronicler triumphantly calls it, was held on Tuesday morning. Its details must be gathered from all sources. Bits of the official decrees peep out both in Abingdon and Peterborough, but it is the Peterborough writer, the stoutest Englishman that ever took pen in hand, who loves emphatically to dwell on the democratic character of this great gathering. It is from 601his expression “wiðutan Lundene,” combined with the description which the Biographer gives of Godwine and Eadward afterwards going together to the Palace (see p. 337), that we learn that the assembly was held in the open air. The Biographer cares little for the political character of the meeting, but there is no part of his whole narrative in which he is richer in those little personal touches which give him his chief value. His account is most graphic and animated, and the reader will easily see that I have largely drawn upon him.

The flight of Robert, Ulf, and the other Normans (see p. 300) certainly happened before the meeting of the Gemót, therefore doubtless on Monday evening. From the account in the Abingdon Chronicle and in Florence it might seem that it was on Tuesday, after sentence had been pronounced against them in the Gemót. But, in the more careful order of the Peterborough writer, it becomes plain that it happened immediately after the mission of Stigand, that is, on Monday; “Ða geaxode Rotberd arcebiscop and þa Frencisce menn þæt [the agreement made by Stigand] genamon heora hors and gewendon.” Then, after the details of their ride, comes the account of the Gemót. So William of Malmesbury, ii. 199. Before the Gemót, “Ille [Robert], non exspectatâ violentiâ, sponte profugerat, quum sermo pacis componeretur.” And this is confirmed by one of the incidental references in the Biographer. He does not directly describe the flight of Robert and his companions, but he speaks of the King at the Gemót as “destitutus imprimis fugâ Archipræsulis et suorum multorum, verentium adspectum Ducis, qui scilicet auctores fuerant illius concitati turbinis.”

The personal reconciliation between the King and Godwine, distinct from, and following after, the public votes of the Gemót (see p. 337), rests on the direct authority of the Biographer only. The Chroniclers naturally think mainly of the proceedings in the Assembly, and merge the private reconciliation in the public one. The chaplain of the Lady, as naturally, looks at things in an opposite way. It is possible however that, in one passage of his story, the Peterborough writer had the private reconciliation in his mind. Once, and once only, is his way of speaking less popular than that of his Abingdon brother. Where Abingdon says, “And man sealde Godwine clæne his eorldom swa full and swa forð swa he fyrmest ahte,” Peterborough has “and se cyng forgeaf þam eorle and his 602bearnum his fulne freondscype and fulne eorldom,” &c. This sounds very much as if the Peterborough writer was combining in his mind the public restoration by the Gemót and the personal reconciliation with the King. But in any case we cannot mistake the minute and local description given by the Biographer; “Rex itaque coactus tum misericordiâ et satisfactione Ducis ... devictus quoque precibus supplicantium, redditis armis suis, cum Duce in palatium processit, ibique, paullatim defervente animi motu sedatus, sapientium consilio usus, Duci osculum præbuit,” &c. (p. 406).

One or two points maybe here noticed. In the text (p. 337) I have said that the King and the Earl went “unarmed to the Palace.” But “redditis armis suis” would rather mean that Eadward returned to Godwine the arms which Godwine had laid at his feet (p. 334). The restoration of the official axe was not unlikely to be the outward sign of the restoration of the office itself. Again, it may be asked whether “sapientium consilio usus” means merely “following the advice of wise men,” or whether it is a technical expression, “in accordance with the decree of the Witan.” In a simpler writer I should be inclined to take it in the latter sense; but the Biographer, if he had chosen to talk directly about the Witan at all, would probably have used some more rhetorical phrase. Besides we have already, in the course of the story, read in the Chronicles of “wise men,” where the reference is clearly not to official but to personal wisdom.

There is certainly something very striking in the way in which our account of this great event has to be put together from several independent accounts, and in the amount of precision, even in very minute points, which we are able to reach by carefully comparing one with another. It is hardly necessary to collect together the shapes which the story takes in later writers, but I cannot pass by the way in which the Winchester annalist (p. 25) weaves the return of Godwine into the legend of Emma, which he places in 1043 (see above, p. 570). Eadward recalls Godwine at the prayer of his mother; “Precibus matris suæ revocavit Godwinum Comitem et filios ejus ab exsilio, et conceptum in eos rancorem remisit ad plenum, et singulis honores suos reddidit.” Selden also (Titles of Honour, pp. 525, 526) seems to have confounded this reconciliation between Eadward and Godwine with that imaginary reconciliation 603soon after Eadward’s election of which Bromton is so full. See vol. i. p. 574.

The story adopted by some writers, ancient and modern, about Godwine giving his son Wulfnoth and his grandson Hakon as hostages to the King, by whom they were immediately handed over to the keeping of Duke William, I mention here only lest I should seem to have forgotten it. It is part of the story of Harold’s oath, which I shall discuss at large in my next volume.

NOTE T. p. 338. The Pilgrimage of Swegen.

I cannot help noticing the strange perversion of the story of Swegen which has been adopted by a writer generally so accurate as Dr. Lingard. “But to Sweyn,” he tells us (i. 341), “Eadward was inexorable. He had been guilty of a most inhuman and perfidious murder; and seeing himself abandoned by his family, he submitted to the discipline of the ecclesiastical canons.” This seems to come from Roger of Wendover (i. 491); “Rex ... pristinum honorem restituit Godwino et filiis ejus omnibus, præter Suanum, qui Beornum peremerat Regis [sic] consobrinum, unde, pœnitentiam agens, de Flandriâ nudis pedibus Hierosolymam petens, in reditu suo per viam defunctus est.” This would most naturally mean that Swegen set out on his pilgrimage after the restoration of his family, and it might also seem to imply that the pilgrimage was an imposed penance. But there is no doubt that Swegen had already set out for Jerusalem before his father left Flanders, and the expressions of the best writers seem to show that the penance was altogether self-imposed. On the former point the words of the Abingdon Chronicle (1052) are decisive; “Swegen for æror to Hierusalem of Bricge.” So Florence (1052), who also gives a hint on the other point; “Ille enim ductus pœnitentiâ, eo quod, ut prælibavimus, consobrinum suum Beorn occiderat, de Flandriâ nudis pedibus Jerusalem jam adierat.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 200; see above, p. 102) does not mention the time, but says that he went “pro conscientiâ Brunonis cognati interempti.” About the chronology then there is no doubt, and there is no reason to suppose 604that the pilgrimage was other than a self-imposed one. Swegen, in short, if a great criminal, was also a great penitent, and it is rather hard to deprive him of that character in order to exalt Saint Eadward and the ecclesiastical canons. Eadward had no opportunity of being inexorable; Swegen’s family had no opportunity of abandoning him; he probably did not need the discipline of the ecclesiastical canons; his own conscience had already pronounced sentence upon him. It was probably Florence’s expression “pœnitentiâ ductus” which suggested Roger’s “pœnitentiam agens,” and from the latter Dr. Lingard clearly got his idea of the ecclesiastical canons.

Thierry (i. 201) seems, contrary to the best accounts, but in conformity with a possible interpretation of Roger, to bring Swegen to the Gemót, and to make him banish himself there; “Tous les membres de cette famille populaire rentrèrent dans leurs honneurs, à l’exception d’un seul, de Sweyn, qui y renonça volontairement.” Out of this view Lord Lytton (Harold, i. 196 et seqq.) has made a fine scene.

The Abingdon Chronicle makes Swegen die at Constantinople; Florence places his death in Lykia. He adds that he died of the cold—“invalitudine ex nimio frigore contractâ.” Florence, writing with the Abingdon Chronicle before him, could have no motive to change the well known Constantinople into the less known Lykia, unless he had good information that Lykia really was the place. But the Chronicler might very easily put Constantinople, a thoroughly familiar name, instead of Lykia, of which he had perhaps never heard. William of Malmesbury (ii. 200) has quite another story; “A Saracenis circumventus et ad mortem cæsus est.”

A close parallel to the pilgrimage of Swegen is found in that of Lagman (on the name see vol. i. p. 510) King of Man, 1075–1093 (Munch, p. 4); “Rebellavit autem contra eum Haraldus frater ejus multo tempore. Sed tandem captus a Lagmanno, genitalibus et oculis privatus est. Post hæc Lagmannus, pœnitens quod fratris sui oculos eruisset, sponte regnum suum dimisit, et signo crucis dominicæ insignitus, iter Jerosolimitanum arripuit, quo et mortuus est.”

605

NOTE U. p. 342. The Ecclesiastical Position of Stigand.

Stigand, as might have been expected, is as favourite an object of Norman abuse as Godwine himself. And abuse of Stigand is one degree more reasonable than abuse of Godwine. For, though Stigand’s conduct seems to have in no way infringed the laws of England, and though it might easily have been justified by abundance of English precedents, there can be no doubt that it offended against the strict laws of the Church as understood by continental canonists. Of the mingled state of English feeling with regard to him I have spoken in several passages of the text (see above, pp. 343, 432, 446); I will here bring together some of the chief authorities on the subject.

The offences of Stigand, as seen in the eye of the Canon Law, are thus stated by Florence, when recording his degradation in 1070;

“Stigandus Doruberniæ archiepiscopus degradatur tribus ex caussis, scilicet, quia episcopatum Wintoniæ cum archiepiscopatu injustè possidebat; et quia, vivente archiepiscopo Roberto, non solum archiepiscopatum sumpsit, sed etiam ejus pallium, quod Cantwariæ remansit, dum vi injustè ab Angliâ pulsus est, in missarum celebratione aliquamdiu usus est; et post à Benedicto, quem sancta Romana ecclesia excommunicavit, eo quod pecuniis sedem apostolicam invasit, pallium accepit.”

On Stigand’s plurality of Bishopricks, an offence in which he was far from standing alone, William of Malmesbury, as might be expected, gets more rhetorical, and yet, after all, he seems to see that, as things went, there was nothing so very monstrous in it. He mentions the matter in the Gesta Regum, ii. 199;

“Invasit continuò, illo [Roberto] vivente, Stigandus, qui erat episcopus Wintoniæ, archiepiscopatum Cantuariensem; infamis ambitûs pontifex, et honorum ultra debitum appetitor, qui, spe throni excelsioris, episcopatum Saxonum Australium deserens, Wintoniam insederit, illam quoque cum archiepiscopatu tenuerit.”

But in the Gesta Pontificum (116 b), after a good deal of abuse, he gets somewhat mollified;

606“Nonne illud belluinæ rapacitatis dices, quod Wintoniæ episcopatum et Cantuariæ archiepiscopatum, præterea multas abbatias [see Hist. Eliens. ii. 41] solus ipse possidebat, quæ singula satis superque sufficerent alicui probo viro? Sed ego conjicio illum non judicio sed errore peccâsse, quod homo illiteratus (sicuti plerique et penè omnes tunc temporis Angliæ Episcopi) nesciret quantùm delinqueret, rem ecclesiasticorum negotiorum sicut publicorum actitari existimans.”

The feeling on the subject among strict churchmen comes out very forcibly in the words of the Abingdon Chronicler in 1053, when he records the foreign consecration of Wulfwig and Leofwine; “On ðisson geare næs ná arcebisceop on ðissan lande, butan Stigand bisceop heold þæt bisceoprice on Cantwarabyrig on Christes cyrcean, and Kynsige on Eoforwic; and Leofwine and Wulfwi foran ofer sæ and leton hig hadian hær to bisceopum.” I suppose all that is meant about Cynesige is that he had not yet received the pallium, as I do not know of any objection having been made to his appointment. The Waltham writer (De Inventione, c. 16) has an expression which in a contemporary writer would be still more forcible. He tells us that Harold had his minster consecrated by Cynesige, “quia tunc vacabat sedes Cantuariæ.” But, a hundred years later, the words may simply imply an imperfect understanding of the facts.

I have mentioned in their proper places the various Bishops who declined consecration at the hands of Stigand, and sought it elsewhere (see pp. 343, 453). The most important instance is that of Saint Wulfstan (see p. 466), on account of the distinct, though at first sight apparently contradictory, evidence which we have on the subject. I think that the distinct statement of Florence (1062) cannot be got over. It runs thus;

“Consecratus est igitur Episcopus à venerando Aldredo Eboracensium Archiepiscopo, eò quòd Stigando Doruberniæ Archiepiscopo officium episcopale tunc à Domino Apostolico interdictum erat, quia, Rodberto Archiepiscopo vivente, archiepiscopatum suscipere præsumpsit; canonicâ tamen professione præfato Dorubernensi Archiepiscopo Stigando, non suo ordinatori Aldredo, factâ.”

This seems to show that, in Florence’s belief, the Legates brought with them a distinct and fresh decree against Stigand (“officium ... tunc interdictum est.” Cf. Vita Wlstani, Ang. Sacr. ii. 251; 607“Quod Cantuariensi Stigando Romanus Papa interdixisset officio”); that Wulfstan, in obedience to the Papal orders, refused consecration at the hands of Stigand, but that he nevertheless made canonical profession to him as the de facto Archbishop. Now this account is not a mere obitèr dictum of Florence; it is one of those statements of his which have a controversial force. It is evidently meant as an answer to some other statement; it is akin to his memorable description of Harold’s election and coronation, in which every word disposes of some Norman calumny. It expresses, in short, the deliberate conviction of a man of local knowledge and sound judgement. On the other hand, the words of the later profession of Wulfstan to Lanfranc (a document which is not printed, but for a copy of which I have to thank Professor Stubbs) seem to deny that he had ever made any earlier profession at all. His words are;

“Quo tempore ego Wulstanus ad Wigorniensem Wicciorum urbem sum ordinatus episcopus, sanctam Dorobernensem ecclesiam, cui omnes antecessores meos constat fuisse subjectos, Stigandus jampridem invaserat, metropolitanum ejusdem sedis vi et dolo expulerat, usumque pallii quod ei abstulit contemptâ apostolicæ sedis auctoritate temerare præsumpserat. Unde à Romanis Pontificibus, Leone, Victore, Stephano, Nicolao, Alexandro, vocatus, excommunicatus, damnatus est. Ipse tamen, ut cœpit, in sui cordis obstinatione permansit. Per idem tempus jussa eorum Pontificum in Anglicam terram delata sunt prohibentium nequis ei episcopalem reverentiam exhiberet, aut ad eum ordinandus accederet. Quo tempore Anglorum præsules, alii Romam, nonnulli Franciam sacrandi petebant; quidam vero, ad vicinos coepiscopos accedebant. Ego autem Alredum Eboracensis ecclesiæ antistitem adii; professionem tamen de canonicâ obedientiâ usque ad præsente diem facere distuli.”

I suspect that Wulfstan meant to say that he had made no profession to Ealdred, and that Lanfranc, or some cunning foreign clerk, wrapped the matter up in the folds of a subtilty which the English Bishop most likely did not above half understand. A document which ventures to say that Stigand—and not the English people—drove Robert into exile could hardly be the genuine composition of the chosen friend of Harold. The simplicity of the saint was doubtless imposed upon, and his hand was set to a paper which gave a false view of the case. Florence seemingly thought it his duty to put a counter-statement on record.

608

NOTE W. p. 351. The Death of Earl Godwine.

The Biographer gives no details of the death of Godwine. He merely says (408) that he died in the year after his return (“reconciliatis ergo Duce et ejus filiis cum Rege, et omni patriâ in pacis tranquillitate conquiescente, secundo post hæc anno, obiit idem Dux felicis memoriæ”). He then mentions the grief of the nation, the Earl’s solemn burial in the Old Minster (“tumulatur condigno honore in monasterio, quod nuncupant, veteri Wintoniæ”), and the offerings made for the repose of his soul.

All the Chronicles mention the Earl’s death. The Winchester Chronicle, in one of its rare entries at this time, says simply, “1053. Her Godwine Eorl forðferde.” The late Canterbury Chronicle adds the exact date; “1053. Her was Godwine Eorl dead on xvii. Kal. Mai.” Peterborough adds the place of burial; “1053. Her on þisum geare forðferde Godwine Eorl on xvii. Kal. Mai, and he is bebyrged on Winceastre on ealda mynstre.” But it is from the Worcester, and still more from the Abingdon Chronicler, that we learn the details which I have followed in the text, and on a perversion of which the Norman romance is evidently founded. The Worcester writer’s account (1053) is put out of place, after events which happened later in the year. He tells us that the Earl was taken ill while he sat with the King at Winchester “him geyfelode þær he mid þam cynge sæt on Wincestre”). The Abingdon Chronicler is much fuller. He mentions the death of Godwine twice. First, in 1052, he gives us the very important fact that the Earl began to sicken soon after his return (see above, p. 348), and it is here that he makes his complaint of Godwine’s spoliations of holy places (see above, p. 545). Under 1053 he gives the story of his death. The King is at Winchester at Easter, and Godwine, Harold, and Tostig (“Godwine Eorl, and Harold Eorl his sunu, and Tostig.” See p. 567 on the way of describing the two brothers) are with him. He then goes on,

“Ða on oðran Easter dæge sæt he mid þam Cynincge æt gereorde; þa færinga sah he niðer wið þæs fotsetles spræce benumen, and ealre 609his mihte; and hine man ða brǽd into ðæs Kinges bure, and ðohtan þæt hit ofergán sceolde; ac hit næs na swa, ac þurhwunode swa unspecende and mihteleas forð oð þone Ðunresdæg, and ða his lif alét, and he lið þær binnan ealdan mynstre.”

Florence (1053) translates this account, with the addition of one or two touches;

“Eodem anno, dum secunda paschalis festivitatis celebraretur feria Wintoniæ, Godwino Comiti, more solito Regi ad mensam assidenti, suprema evenit calamitas, gravi etenim morbo ex improviso percussus, mutus in ipsâ sede declinavit. Quod filii ejus, Comes Haroldus, Tosti, et Gyrth videntes, illum in Regis cameram portabant, sperantes eum post modicum de infirmitate convalescere; sed ille expers virium, quintâ post hæc feriâ, miserabili cruciatu vitâ decessit, et in veteri monasterio sepultus est.”

I am not sure that we do not here, in our own Florence, find the first touches of romance, or rather the first influence of the romantic tales which were doubtless already afloat in his time. He leaves out the mention of Godwine’s previous illness, he enlarges on the suddenness of the stroke, and he adds the “miserabilis cruciatus,” of which we hear nothing in the Chronicles, and which seems to come from the death of Harthacnut (see vol. i. p. 591).

We are now fairly landed in the region of romance. The sudden death of Godwine at the royal table probably suggested the thought of that form of ordeal in which the guilt or innocence of the accused person was tested by his power of swallowing a morsel, blessed or cursed for the purpose. It is possible that the tale of Ælfred the conspirator against Æthelstan was not forgotten. Ælfred, according to the story (Will. Malms. ii. 137), was in the like manner struck before the altar after his false oath before Pope John, and died on the third day. The legend of Godwine appears in shapes in which both these sources can be recognized. According to William of Malmesbury (ii. 197), Eadward and Godwine were sitting at table discoursing about the King’s late brother Ælfred (“orto sermone de Elfredo regis fratre”); Godwine says that he believes that the King still suspects him of having had a hand in his death (“Tu, Rex, ad omnem memoriam germani, rugato me vultu video quod aspicias”); but he prays God that the morsel which he has in his hand may choke him (“non patiatur 610Deus, ut istam offam transglutiam”) if he had ever done anything tending to Ælfred’s danger or to the King’s damage (“ad ejus periculum, vel tuum incommodum”). Of course the morsel does choke him, and he dies then and there; he is dragged from under the table by his son Harold, who is in attendance on the King (“qui Regi adstabat”), and is buried in the cathedral of Winchester (“in episcopatu Wintoniæ”). The moral of course is not wanting—“Deum monstrâsse quam sancto animo Godwinus servierit;” but it is only fair to William to say that his infinitive mood shows that he is telling the tale only as part of the Norman version of Godwine’s history (see above, p. 536).

The Hyde writer (p. 289) tells the story in a shape which is still more distinctly borrowed from the story of Ælfred. The scene is changed to London. Godwine sees that the King’s mind is still kept back from a thorough reconciliation by the remembrance of the death of his brother (“animadvertens animum Regis Edwardi pro injustâ fratris sui interfectione erga se non esse sincerum”). He therefore constantly tries to regain his favour by frequent assertions of his innocence. He and the King are present in a church at the time of mass; Godwine, of his own free will (“nullo cogente sed ipso Rege cum Principibus vehementer admirante”), steps forward to the altar, takes the chalice in his hand, and pledges himself by a solemn oath (“cunctis audientibus inaudito se juramento constrinxit”) that he had had no share in the death of Ælfred. The King and the Earl then go to dinner, and the rest of the story is told in nearly the same way as by William of Malmesbury, only in a rather more impressive style. The morsel sticks in Godwine’s throat (“buccellam ori impositam, urgente eum divino judicio, nec glutere potuit, nec revertere, sed in amentiam versus terribiliter cœpit exspirare”). Harold, who, as in the other version, is in attendance on the King (“qui servitoris officio Regi adstabat”), carries him out while still breathing (“jam extremum spiritum trahentem, foras asportavit”).

In Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 760 B) the chief difference from the version of William of Malmesbury is that the death of Ælfred is not mentioned. The scene is removed to Windsor (“apud Windleshores, ubi plurimùm manere solebat”); the conversation at dinner between the King and the Earl turns upon Godwine’s supposed treasons against the King himself, a subject 611quite as strange as the death of Ælfred; Godwine (“gener suus et proditor, recumbens juxta eum”) seemingly volunteers the remark that he has been often falsely accused of plotting against the King, but that he trusts that, if there be a true and just God in heaven, he will make the piece of bread choke him, if he ever did so plot. The true and just God, we are told, heard the voice of the traitor, who, as the chronicler charitably adds, “eodem pane strangulatus mortem prægustavit æternam.”

But there was something very lame in both these shapes of the story. Why should Eadward and Godwine choose as the subject of their discourse the topics which of all others one would have thought that both of them would have wished to avoid? Why should either Eadward or Godwine, in the familiar intercourse of the dinner-table, fall talking either about the murder of Ælfred or about any other treasonable doings of the Earl? William and Henry give us no clue. The Hyde writer solves the difficulty, but in rather a desperate way. In the next stage of the legend the explanation is much more ingeniously supplied. Some teller of the story lighted on an ancient legend which William of Malmesbury had recorded in its proper place (ii. 139), but which he had not thought of transferring to this. There was an old scandal against King Æthelstan, to the effect that he exposed his brother Eadwine at sea, on a false charge of conspiracy brought by his cup-bearer. Seven years after, the cup-bearer, handing wine to the King, slips with one foot, recovers himself with the other, and adds the witty remark, “So brother helps brother.” But King Æthelstan is thereby minded how this same man had made him deprive himself of the help of his brother, and he takes care that, however strong he may be on his feet, he shall presently be shorter by the head, which had no brother to help it. This story (of which I have spoken in an article in the Fortnightly Review, May 1, 1866) is worked into the legend of Godwine by Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 395), in the French Life of Eadward (3253 et seqq. p. 117), in Roger of Wendover (i. 492), the Winchester Annals (p. 25), Thomas Rudborne’s Winchester History (Ang. Sacr. i. 239), Bromton (X Scriptt. 944), and Knighton (X Scriptt. 2333). In all these accounts we read, with no difference of any importance, how, as Eadward and Godwine are at table, the cup-bearer slips and recovers himself, how Godwine says, “So brother helps brother,” 612how Eadward answers, “So might my brother Ælfred have helped me, but for the treason of Godwine.” The Earl’s protestations of innocence, and the fearful test which he offers, have now a certain propriety, and the rest of the story follows much as in William of Malmesbury. The ball however has grown somewhat in its rollings, and some characteristically strong language is put into the mouth of the Saint. “Drag out the dog” (“extrahite canem,” or “canem istum”) is the King’s terse command, as it appears in Æthelred and Bromton. In the French Life this is, by a slight improvement, developed into “this stinking dog” (“treiez hors ceu chen punois”); while in most of the versions Eadward goes on to order his father-in-law to be buried in the highway, as unworthy of Christian burial (“extrahite canem hunc et proditorum et illum in quadrivio sepelite, indignus est ut Christianam habeat sepulturam”). The burial in the Old Minster was, we are assured by Roger of Wendover, done wholly without the King’s knowledge (“Rege id penitus ignorante”). One or two other smaller points may be noticed. Bromton and Knighton, like Henry of Huntingdon, transfer the story to Windsor, and the Winchester Annals more strangely transfer it to Odiham. Roger of Wendover and Thomas Rudborne make the King bless the morsel, before Godwine takes it; and the latter mentions another version, according to which it was blessed by Saint Wulfstan. The presence of the Prior of Worcester at the royal banquet is not accounted for. The Winchester Annals, with an obvious scriptural allusion, tell us that with the morsel Satan entered into Godwine (“introivit in illum Sathanas”). Lastly, Bromton turns the cup-bearer whose foot slips into no less a person than the Earl of the East-Angles. One wonders that the legend of the quarrel between Harold and Tostig was not dragged in here also.

After all this, it is with some relief that one turns to honest Wace (10595), who at least had the manliness to confess that there were things which he did not know;

“Gwine poiz remist issi,

Li Reiz en paiz le cunsenti.

Jo ne sai cumbien i dura,

Maiz jo sai bien k’il s’estrangla

D’un morsel ke li Roiz chigna

Al’ aünie ù il mainga.”

Such is the rise and progress of this famous legend. I venture to think that a better instance of the gradual growth of invention is hardly to be found in the whole range of mythology.

613

NOTE X. p. 362. The War with Macbeth.

Several points of dispute are opened by Siward’s expedition against Macbeth. In the popular story Macbeth is killed, and Malcolm is put in full possession of the Kingdom of Scotland, as the immediate result of the battle fought by Siward. On the other hand, authentic history makes Malcolm wage a much longer struggle, as I have mentioned in the text. The point which is left obscure is what share the English allies of Malcolm took in the war after the defeat of Macbeth by Siward.

On the other hand, a question has been raised by Mr. E. W. Robertson, whether the expedition of Siward had anything at all to do with the restoration of Malcolm. I cannot look on this question as much more than a cavil; still it may be as well to state the objection and the answer to it, as coming first in chronological order, before examining the other points.

1. The objection brought by Mr. Robertson (Scotland under her Early Kings, i. 122, 123) against the commonly received view as to the objects of Siward’s expedition seems to rest on no ground except that, as he says, “neither the contemporary Irish annalist, nor the two MSS. of the Chronicle which describe the expedition of Siward, allude to any cause for it, or note any result beyond the immense booty acquired.” “They never,” he adds, “mention the name of Malcolm or of the Confessor.” Elsewhere (ii. 400) Mr. Robertson calls it an “expedition which appears to have been directed against Macbeth on account of the protection he has afforded to the Norman favourites of the Confessor.” Now this last explanation is a mere conjecture of Mr. Robertson’s own. There is not a scrap of evidence in support of it, while on the other side we have the distinct statement of Florence. Florence tells us directly that one object at least of Siward’s expedition was the restoration of Malcolm (“Malcolmum, Regis Cumbrorum filium, ut Rex jusserat, Regem constituit”). He is followed, in nearly the same words, by the Manx Chronicler (1035, Munch, p. 3). Mr. Robertson’s conjecture seems to me to be not only unsupported, but utterly improbable. There is nothing to show that Macbeth had given any further 614offence by receiving the Norman exiles. They had been allowed to go peaceably into Scotland (see above, p. 346), and some of them had actually been recalled to England. That, being in Scotland, they fought on the Scottish side, does not prove that the war was in any way waged against them. To fight on behalf of the side on which they found themselves for the moment was only the natural conduct of Normans anywhere. And, besides all this, the whole story of these Norman exiles rests on the authority of Florence. It is from him alone that we learn that they took any part in the battle, or indeed that there were any Norman exiles in Scotland at all. If the authority of Florence is good to prove these points, it is surely equally good to prove the objects of the expedition. And it is not merely the authority of Florence; it is Florence confirmed by Simeon of Durham, our best authority for all Northern matters (see X Scriptt. 187). That the Chronicles are silent on some points, that the Peterborough Chronicle is silent altogether, will amaze no one who remembers how capriciously Scottish and Northumbrian affairs are entered or not entered in our national annals. The Abingdon and Worcester Chroniclers were struck with the general greatness of Siward’s exploit, but the cause of Malcolm had no interest for them. The Peterborough Chronicler, the sworn partizan of the house of Godwine, did not trouble himself to take any notice of an event which neither enhanced the glory of Harold nor touched the interests of his own abbey. But the fact that Simeon held Florence’s narrative to be worth copying without addition or alteration at once stamps its authenticity. Simeon’s approval at once sets aside all negative arguments, all talk about the “misrepresentations of Anglo-Norman writers,” whoever may be meant by that name.

Mr. Burton (i. 373) seems to have no doubt about the matter.

2. The nature of Siward’s troops is well marked in the language of the different accounts. The here and the fyrd are clearly distinguished. The Worcester Chronicle (1054) says, “Her ferde Siward Eorl mid miclum here on Scotland, ægðer ge mid sciphere and mid landfyrde.” This Florence translates, “Strenuus Dux Northhymbrorum Siwardus, jussu Regis, cum equestri exercitu et classe validâ Scottiam adiit.” Then, in describing the slaughter of the English, Abingdon says, “Eac feol mycel on his [Siwardes] healfe ægðer ge Densce ge Englisce.” So Florence, “Multi Anglorum et 615Danorum ceciderunt.” The Worcester Chronicle says, “And of his [Siwardes] huscarla and of þæs cynges wurdon þær ofslægene.” I take the here, the housecarls, and the equestris exercitus, all to be the same thing, and I take the “Danish and English” of one account to answer to the “Housecarls of the Earl and of the King” in the other. The Housecarls were doubtless an “equestris exercitus” in the sense of which I spoke in vol. i. p. 566. They did not fight on horseback, but they, or many of them, rode to battle (see also vol. i. p. 298), while the levies of the shires, no doubt, for the most part walked. The King’s Housecarls, we see, were wholly or mainly Englishmen, chiefly no doubt West-Saxons; those of the Earl would doubtless be Danes in the sense of being inhabitants of the Denalagu, some perhaps in the sense of being actually adventurers from Denmark. The Housecarls now clearly take the place of the old comitatus; the stress of the battle now falls mainly on them, just as of old it fell on the noble youths who fought around Brihtnoth (see vol. i. pp. 91, 298, 490). So, on the Scottish side, we read in the Worcester Chronicle that Siward “feaht wið Scottas ... and ofsloh eall þæt þer betst wæs on þam lande.” The special mention of the Normans comes from Florence; “Multis millibus Scottorum, et Nortmannis omnibus, quorum suprà fecimus mentionem, occisis.” The Ulster Annals (Johnston, 69; O’Conor, Rer. Hib. Scriptt. iv. 334) speak of this battle as “prœlium inter viros Albaniæ et Saxones.” They undertake to give us the numbers of the slain, three thousand on the Scottish side, and fifteen hundred “Saxons.”

3. That Siward lost a son in the battle is asserted by the Abingdon Chronicler and by Florence; but they do not give his name. The Worcester writer is more express. Among the slain were “his sunu Osbarn and his sweoster sunu Sihward.” The story of Siward asking about his son’s wounds is told, and well told, by Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 760 A) and Bromton (X Scriptt. 946). But Henry carries back the story to the year 1052, and both he and Bromton conceive Osbeorn Bulax, as Bromton calls him, to have died in an earlier expedition in which his father had no share. Siward, hearing a satisfactory report of the manner of his son’s death, goes in person and avenges him (“Siwardus igitur in Scotiam proficiscens, Regem bello vicit, regnum totum destruxit, destructum sibi subjugavit”). If there is any meaning 616in this wild exaggeration, the subjection of Scotland to Siward must mean the establishment of Siward’s kinsman Malcolm as King. But it is hard to make the story of Osbeorn’s death and Siward’s inquiries fit in with the fact that Osbeorn died in a battle in which Siward himself was present. According to the analogies of Maldon and Senlac, the Earl, his son, and his nephew would stand near together in the fight, and there would be no need of messengers to announce the manner of Osbeorn’s death.

Bromton has also preserved another tradition about the death of Osbeorn, which is palpably mythical as it stands, but which seems, in common with several other hints, to point to a strong feeling of disaffection towards Siward as rife in Northumberland. Siward goes into Scotland, leaving Osbeorn as his representative in his Earldom. After his victory he hears that the Northumbrians have revolted and killed his son. He then, in his wrath, performs an exploit like that of Roland in the Pyrenees (“Siwardus inde iratus in scopulo adhuc patente cum securi percussit”); he gives Scotland to Donald (inaccurately for Malcolm), and returns to Northumberland to take a stern vengeance on his enemies (“patriam rediit et inimicos suos in ore gladii percussit”).

4. As to the result of the battle, there can be no doubt. Macbeth was defeated, but not killed. But the false account followed by Shakespere (who also confounds Osbeorn with his cousin the younger Siward) is as old as William of Malmesbury. He speaks (ii. 196) of “Siwardus Northimbrensium [Comes], qui jussu ejus [Edwardi] cum Scotorum Rege Macbethâ congressus, vitâ regnoque spoliavit, ibidemque Malcolmum, filium Regis Cumbrorum, Regem instituit.” It is singular that William should have fallen into an error which not only contradicts the earlier authorities, but which has been avoided by many writers much later and more careless than himself. The agreement on this head is complete. The escape of Macbeth is implied in the words of the Worcester Chronicle (“Siward ... feaht wið Scottas and aflymde þone kyng Macbeoðen”) and of Florence (“illum fugavit”); and it is still plainer in the Abingdon version (“Siward ... mycel wæl of Scottum gesloh, and hig aflymde, and se cing ætbærst”) and in the Biographer (“Rex Scottorum nomine barbarus ... à Siwardo Duce usque ad internecionem penè suorum devictus et in obscœnam fugam est versus.” p. 416). The story in Henry of Huntingdon 617and Bromton, as we have seen, speaks only of a victory over Macbeth, not of his death. Fordun (v. 7) is equally clear. He quotes and rejects William of Malmesbury’s account, and tells us that Macbeth “partibus subitò relictis australibus boreales petiit, ubi terrarum angustis anfractibus et silvarum abditis tutiùs sperabat se tueri.” He adds that the Scots, unwilling to fight against Malcolm, fled at the first sound of the trumpet, quite a different picture from the hard fought fight spoken of by the English and Irish writers.

5. The distinct statement of Florence that Siward made Malcolm King (“Regem constituit”) does not seem to me to be at all contradicted by the facts that the war lingered on several years, and that Malcolm was not solemnly crowned at Scone till after the death of the competitor who succeeded Macbeth. The result of the battle doubtless was that Malcolm was acknowledged King of Scots by the English King, by at least his own English subjects in Lothian, and probably by the southern parts of Scotland proper (“partes australes” in Fordun just above). But the war still went on in the North. It is worth notice that Florence is satisfied with the practical expression of Eadward’s supremacy—“ut Rex jusserat, Regem constituit.” But Roger of Wendover (i. 493), in whose time the homage of Scotland was becoming a matter of debate, is more special and more feudal in his language. He improves the statement of Florence into “Rex regnum Scotiæ dedit Malcolmo, Cumbrorum Regis filio, de se tenendum.”

6. The remaining events of the war I have described in the text. Our accounts are very meagre, but there can, I think, be little doubt that Malcolm continued to be powerfully supported by English help under Tostig, the successor of Siward. That such was the case is distinctly affirmed by Eadward’s Biographer (416), though, as usual, he wraps his story in such a cloud of words that we cannot make out much as to time, place, or circumstance. Macbeth, the King whose barbarous name he cannot write or remember, was first (“primùm”) defeated by Siward, then by Tostig. “Secundò, ducatum agente Duce Tostino, quum eum Scotti intentatum haberet, et ob hoc in minori pretio habitum, latrocinio potiùs quam bello sæpiùs lacesserent; incertum genus hominum, silvisque potiùs quam campo, fugæ quoque magis fidens quam audaciæ virili in prælio, tam prudenti astutiâ quam virtute bellicâ et hostili 618expeditione, cum salute suorum prædictus Dux attrivit, ut cum Rege eorum delegerint ei Regique Ædwardo magis servire quam rebellare, id quoque per datos obsides ratum facere.” He then formally declines to go further into the matter. The meaning of the passage is by no means clear. Indeed I do not feel certain whether the Biographer has not confounded Macbeth and Malcolm. It is hard to conceive any time when Macbeth can have given hostages; Malcolm may have done so on his first appointment, or it is possible, though we have no other account of it, that Malcolm’s raid in 1061 (see p. 459) may have been avenged by a Scottish expedition on the part of Tostig. The Biographer’s authority on these matters, which he seems purposely to slight, is far from being so great as it is when he is dealing with those affairs of the Court which went on under his own eye. Still his account shows that a Scottish war of some sort or other, whether against Macbeth or against Malcolm, went on under Tostig as well as under Siward.

The sworn brotherhood again between Tostig and Malcolm (see p. 384) can hardly have any other reference than to a joint war against Macbeth. There is also a statement in Fordun (v. 8), which, though utterly confused as it stands, may probably help us to an important fact. Fordun clearly conceived Siward as continuing to wage war in Scotland after the battle of 1054, for he describes him as being summoned back by Eadward to help in the war against Gruffydd, after the destruction of Hereford in 1055 (“Hoc statim Siwardus, postquam à suo Rege per certum audierat nuncium, confestim jussus domi rediit, nequaquam ulteriùs Malcolmo ferre præsidium rediturus”). Now Siward died in 1055, before the war in Herefordshire began; but, if we read Tostig for Siward, a summons to the Welsh war is in every way probable.

Fordun, though he preserves the fact of Macbeth’s escape from the battle of 1054, confounds that battle with the battle of Lumfanan in 1058, and places them together in 1056, on December 5th (v. 7). Nevertheless he makes (v. 8) the battle to have happened at the same time as Gruffydd’s destruction of Hereford in 1055. But Siward’s battle is fixed by the English Chronicles to 1054, and the battle in which Macbeth died is equally fixed by the Irish Chronicles to 1058. So the Ulster Annals; “Macbeath filius Finnliachi, supremus Rex Albaniæ, occisus est à Malcolmo filio 619Donnchadi in prœlio.” (See also Robertson, i. 123; Burton, i. 373.) The successor of Macbeth is called by Fordun (v. 8) “suus [Machabei] consobrinus, nomine Lulach, cognomine Fatuus.” Tigernach calls him “Lulacus Rex Albaniæ,” and fixes his death, which was “per dolum,” to 1058. The Ulster Annals call him “Mac Gil Comgen” (see Robertson, i. 120). Mr. Burton (i. 374) calls him a son of Gruach. The coronation of Malcolm comes from Fordun (v. 9). Cf. O’Conor’s note on the Ulster Annals, Rer. Hib. Scriptt. iv. 338.

NOTE Y. p. 370. The Mission of Ealdred and the Return of the Ætheling Eadward.

The sources of our information with regard to Bishop Ealdred’s mission to the Imperial Court curiously illustrate the occasionally deficient nature of our authorities, and the way in which one writer fills up gaps in another. The mission of Ealdred in 1054 and the return of the Ætheling in 1057 are both of them distinctly recorded in our national Chronicles. They are indeed much more than recorded; each event finds at least one Chronicler to dwell upon it with special interest. But from the Chronicles alone we should never find out that there was any connexion between the two events. The coming of the Ætheling is recorded by the Peterborough writer, and it attracts the special attention of his Worcester brother, who bursts into song on the occasion. But there is not a word in either to connect his coming with the German mission of Ealdred. About that mission the Peterborough writer is silent, just as he is silent about the Scottish war of Siward. Abingdon (1054) records Ealdred’s journey, but says only, “On þam ylcan geare ferde Ealdred biscop suð ofer sǽ into Sexlande, and wearð þær mid mycelre arwarðnesse underfangen.” From this account we might guess, but we could do no more than guess, that Ealdred went in some public character. The Worcester writer is naturally fuller on the doings of his own Bishop; still what chiefly occupies his attention is the “mickle worship” with which Ealdred was received by the Emperor, the long time that he 620was away, and the arrangements which he made for the discharge of his duties during his absence (see p. 372). He does indeed tell us that Ealdred went on the King’s errand; but he does not tell us what the King’s errand was, any more than he did in recording Ealdred’s earlier mission to Rome in 1049. His words are; “Ðæs ilcan geres for Aldred biscop to Colne ofer sæ, þæs kynges ærende, and wearð þær underfangen mid mycclan weorðscipe fram þam Casere, and þær he wunode wel neh an gér; and him geaf ægðer þeneste, ge se biscop on Colone and se Casere.” So William of Malmesbury (Vit. S. Wlst. Ang. Sacr. ii. 249) looks on the objects of the embassy as best summed up in the Herodotean formula εἰδὼς οὐ λέγω. Ealdred goes to the Emperor, “quædam negotia, quorum cognitionem caussa non flagitat, compositurus.” But he has much to tell us about Ealdred’s reception by the Emperor (“quum in Imperatoriæ Augustæ dignationis oculis invenisset gratiam, aliquot ibi dierum continuatione laborum suorum accepit pausam”), and still more about the presents which he received. As the biographer of Wulfstan, he could not fail to tell us about two service-books in which Wulfstan was deeply interested (see p. 462), and which Ealdred now received as a present from the Emperor. In his history he does speak of an embassy to bring about the return of the Ætheling, but he altogether misconceives the circumstances (see p. 371), he makes no mention of Ealdred, and he fancies that the embassy went direct to Hungary (“Rex Edwardus ... misit ad Regem Hunorum.” ii. 228). It is from Florence, and from Florence only, that we get a complete and accurate filling up of all our gaps. He tells us, under 1054, “Aldredus Wigorniensis Episcopus ... magnis cum xeniis Regis fungitur legatione ad Imperatorem, à quo simul et ab Herimanno Coloniensi archipræsule magno susceptus honore, ibidem per integrum annum mansit, et Regis ex parte Imperatori suggessit ut, legatis Ungariam missis, inde fratruelem suum Eadwardum, Regis videlicet Eadmundi Ferrei Lateris filium, reduceret, Angliamque venire faceret.” We now know what the King’s errand was on which Ealdred was sent, and, knowing that it was to bring back the Ætheling, we might guess for ourselves why the Ætheling was to be brought back. But Florence afterwards expressly tells us this also, under the year 1057; “Decreverat enim Rex illum post se regni hæredem constituere.”

621That Ealdred had Abbot Ælfwine for his companion in this embassy (see p. 372), I infer from a remarkable entry in Domesday (208) which can have no other meaning. Land in Huntingdonshire is said to have been granted by Eadward “Sancto Benedicto de Ramesy, propter unum servitium quod Abbas Alwinus fecit ei in Saxoniâ.” I can conceive no other service in Saxony which Ælfwine could have rendered to the King, save this share in Ealdred’s mission to “Sexland.” Ælfwine’s former mission to Rheims is not to the purpose, as no geography can put Rheims in Saxony. Nor do I understand the remark of Sir Henry Ellis (i. 306), that we have here “an allusion to the Confessor’s residence abroad before he came to the throne.” What dealings had Eadward with Saxony in those days? The only difficulty is that the local historian of Ramsey, who is very full on the doings of Ælfwine, and who speaks of his going to Rheims, says nothing of his embassy to Köln. But the silence of this writer has equally to be explained on any other view of the “servitium in Saxoniâ.”

One would like to know a little more than we do about the residence of the Æthelings in Hungary, and the position which they held there. We do not know what became of their mother Ealdgyth, whether they were accompanied by any English attendants, or whether they kept up any kind of intercourse with England. Eadmund must have died young; at least this seems to be implied by William of Malmesbury (ii. 180), who says that the children reached Hungary “ubi, dum benignè aliquo tempore habiti sunt, major diem obiit.” (“Processu temporis ibidem vitam finivit,” says Florence, 1017.) But William’s ideas must have been a little confused, as he makes the Æthelings themselves go to Hungary (“Hunorum Regem petierunt”), as if they were capable of personal action, whereas it is plain that they were still mere babes.

William of Malmesbury also makes Eadward marry a sister of the Queen of the Hungarians. That is, I suppose, the meaning of his words, “Minor Agatham Reginæ sororem in matrimonium accepit.” I have not found, in such German and Hungarian writers as I have been able to refer to, any mention of Eadward’s marriage, or indeed of his sojourn in Hungary at all. But there is no doubt that the wife of Saint Stephen, who was reigning in Hungary when the Æthelings came there, and who died in 1038, 622was Gisla, called by the Hungarians Keisla, a sister of the Emperor Henry the Second. See Ekkehard, ap. Pertz, vi. 192. Sigebert, Chron. 1010 (ap. Pertz, vi. 354); Annalista Saxo, 1002, 1038 (Pertz, vi. 650, 682). Thwrocz, Chron. Hung. ii. 30 (Scriptt. Rer. Hung. 96). Her sister would therefore be a sister of the sainted Emperor himself, whose Imperial reign lasted from 1014 to 1024. A sister of Henry and Gisla could hardly fail to be many years older than Eadward, and we might have expected to find some record of the marriage, whereas we do not even find any sister of the Emperor Henry available for the purpose. There can be no doubt that Agatha was not a sister, but a more distant kinswoman of the Emperor, most probably a niece. The poem in the Worcester Chronicle (1057) says more vaguely, “He begeat þæs Caseres mága to wife ... seo wæs Agathes gehaten:” and so again in the later entry in 1067, “Hire [Margaret’s] modor cynn gæð to Heinrice Casere, þe hæfde anwald ofer Rome.” Florence (1017) says more distinctly, “Eadwardus Agatham, filiam germani Imperatoris Heinrici in matrimonium accepit.” Mr. Thorpe, in his note on the passage in Florence, following Suhm, makes her the daughter of the Emperor’s brother Bruno, who was Bishop of Augsburg from 1007 to 1029 (Ann. Aug. ap. Pertz, iii. 124, 125). The local Annals speak of him as “beatæ memoriæ;” but he seems to have been a turbulent Prelate, and a great thorn in the side of his Imperial brother. See Ekkehard, u. s. Arnold de Sancto Emmerammo, ii. 57 (ap. Pertz, iv. 571), Adalbold, Vit. Henr. II. c. 24 (ap. Pertz, iv. 689), Adalbert, Vit. Henr. II. 20 (ap. Pertz, iv. 805, 811). If this genealogy be correct, later English royalty is connected with the Old-Saxon stock in an unlooked for way.

Orderic has a more amazing version than all. He makes (701 D) the Ætheling marry the daughter of Solomon, and receive the Kingdom of Hungary as her dower. He distinctly calls Eadward King of the Huns; “Hæc [Margarita] nimirùm filia fuit Eduardi Regis Hunorum, qui fuit filius Edmundi cognomento Irnesidæ, fratris Eduardi Regis Anglorum, et exsul conjugem accepit cum regno filiam Salomonis Regis Hunorum.”

The delay in the arrival of the Ætheling (see pp. 373, 409) was very probably caused by the wars between the Empire and the Hungarian Kings who succeeded Stephen. Before the war with Andrew mentioned in the text, Henry the Third had an earlier Hungarian 623war, waged against the usurper Ouban on behalf of Peter the predecessor of Andrew, by whom Peter was blinded. See Lambert, 1041–1046. On the relations between Henry, Andrew, and Conrad of Bavaria, see Hermann Contr. 1053 (ap. Pertz, v. 133), whose account, as usual, it is not easy to reconcile with the Hungarian traditions preserved by Thwrocz. But there must be something wrong when Lappenberg (517) says, “Wahrscheinlich verzögerte die zwischen dem Kaiser und dem König Andreas von Ungarn damals ausgebrochene Fehde, sowie der Tod des Letztern, und bald darauf der des Kaisers, die Ausführung dieses Planes.” The Emperor died in 1056; but Andrew, who began to reign in 1047, did not die till 1060 or 1061, when he fell in battle against his brother Bela, three or four years after the return and death of Eadward in 1057. See Thwrocz, Rer. Hung. Scriptt. 108–112. Lambert, 1061.

NOTE Z. p. 379. The Supposed Enmity between Harold and Tostig.

There is absolutely nothing in any trustworthy writer to lead us to believe that there was any sort of quarrel between Harold and his brother Tostig before the Northumbrian revolt in 1065. We have seen (p. 376) that Tostig’s appointment to his Earldom had, to say the least, Harold’s active concurrence, and we shall find the two brothers acting as zealous fellow-workers in the great Welsh war. Even at the time of the revolt, we shall find Harold doing all that he could to reconcile Tostig with his enemies. But the fact that the result of that revolt made Tostig an enemy of his brother seems to have taken possession of the minds of legendary writers, and a myth has grown up on this subject akin to the myths which have attached themselves to so many other parts of the history of Godwine and his house.

The earliest form of the legend seems to be that which it takes in Æthelred (X Scriptt. 394). The King and Godwine are sitting at dinner—everything seems to happen when the King and Godwine are sitting at dinner—the two boys (“pueri adhuc”) Harold and Tostig are playing before them, when suddenly the game becomes 624rather too rough (“amariùs quam expetebat ludi suavitas”), and the play is changed into a fight. Harold then, the stronger of the two, seizes his brother by the hair, throws him on the ground, and is well nigh throttling him, when Tostig is luckily carried off. The King turns to his father-in-law, and asks him whether he sees nothing more in all this than the sports or quarrels of two naughty boys. The unenlightened mind of the Earl can see nothing more. But the Saint takes the occasion to prophesy, and he foretells the war which would happen between the two brothers, and how the death of the one would be avenged by the death of the other.

This story is at all events well put together, and it makes a very fair piece of hagiology. It is however some objection to it that neither Harold nor Tostig could have been a mere boy at any time after Eadward’s accession. It might be too much to think that the author of the French Life saw this difficulty, but at any rate he changes the “pueri adhuc” of Æthelred into “juvenceus pruz e hardiz” (3140). Otherwise he tells the story in exactly the same way, only enlarging with a little more of Homeric precision on the details of the violence done by Harold to his brother. But the story, like other stories, soon grew, and there is another version of it, much fuller and much more impossible, which first appears in Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 761 A), and afterwards in Roger of Wendover (i. 507) and Bromton (948). The tale is now transferred to the year 1064, when Harold and Tostig were the two greatest men in the Kingdom, when Harold was probably the understood successor to the Crown, when he was at any rate in all the glory of his victories over Gruffydd. The two brothers are described as being at enmity, because, though Tostig was the elder brother, Harold was the greater personal favourite of the King “invidiæ namque et odii fomitem ministraverat, quod, quum Tosti ipse primogenitus esset, arctiùs a rege frater suus diligeretur”). I need hardly say how utterly the real position of the two brothers is here reversed. The King is dining at Windsor, where Harold acts as cup-bearer. Tostig, seeing the favour enjoyed by his brother, cannot keep himself back from pulling his hair (“non potuit cohibere manus a cæsarie fratris”). In Henry’s account Harold seems to bear the insult quite patiently, but in the version of Roger of Wendover he not unnaturally lifts Tostig up in his arms and throws him violently on the floor (“in pavimentum truculenter projecit”). On 625this the King’s Thegns (“milites”) rush together from all quarters, and put an end to the strife between the renowned warriors (“bellatores inclitos ab invicem diviserunt”). The King now foretells the destruction of the two brothers, but in this version he of course foretells it as something which is to happen speedily (“Rex perniciem eorum jam appropinquare prædixit, et iram Dei jam non differendam”). It is here that both Henry and Roger, and Bromton also, bring in that general complaint of the wickedness of the sons of Godwine which I have quoted elsewhere (see p. 541). Tostig now hastens to Hereford, where Harold was preparing a great feast for the King; he there kills all his brother’s servants, cuts them in pieces, mixes their blood and flesh with the wine, ale, and mead which was made ready for the feast, and sends a message to the King that he need not bring any salted meat with him, as he will find plenty of flesh ready at Hereford. On this Eadward orders Tostig into banishment.

The one faint glimmering of truth in all this seems to be that the authors of the legend were clearly aware that in 1064 the Earldom of Herefordshire was in the hands of Harold. R. Higden (Polychronicon, lib. vi. Gale, ii. 281) tells the story in nearly the same words as the earlier form, but he places it in 1056. Knighton (2333) seemingly does the same, though he copies the words of his story from the version which makes the disputants only naughty boys. M. de Bonnechose (ii. 116, 118) seems to believe the whole story, and he makes it a subject of grave political reflexions. Mr. Woodward (History of Wales, p. 214) thinks that the cannibal doings of Tostig arise from some confusion with the doings of Caradoc at Portskewet (see above, p. 480). This is possible, but the details of the story belong to the province of Comparative Mythology. They appear again in the well known Scottish legend of the Douglas Larder.

It has sometimes struck me that a good deal of this talk is due to an exaggerated misunderstanding of one or two passages in the Biographer, where his classical vein has led him into rather wild flights. The war between brother and brother—the war, of course, of Stamfordbridge—reminds him of all the ancient tales of wars and quarrels between brothers. He twice (pp. 414, 424) breaks out into verse upon the subject, and, in both cases, the Theban legend, the war of Eteoklês and Polyneikês, not unnaturally 626presents itself. But he also (v. 834) talks about Cain and Abel, and, by a still more unlucky allusion, about Atreus and Thyestês. Having once got hold of these names, he goes on to tell their whole story. He personifies discord between brothers, and thus apostrophizes the evil genius;

“Priscis nota satis tua sic contagia ludis.

Invidus hic prolis fraternæ fœda Thyestes

Prandia dat fratri depasto corpore nati.”

Here, it strikes me, is quite raw material enough for a legend-maker. The word “ludis” may have suggested the “pueri ludentes” in Æthelred, and I have very little doubt that the mention of Thyestês (who, by the by, is made to change parts with Atreus) suggested the cannibal preparations of Tostig at Hereford.

In several of these stories we see the pervading mistake of thinking that Tostig was the elder brother. In some of them we also see the notion, which turns up in several other quarters, that Harold was the King’s personal favourite and attendant, his “dapifer,” “pincerna,” “major domûs,” or something of the kind. It is possible that Harold in his youth, during the first year or two of Eadward’s reign, may have held some function of the kind, which may account for the tradition. (Cf. p. 78, note 3.) But the notion that Tostig was the elder brother (see above, p. 554) has led to far graver misrepresentations. The enmity of Tostig towards Harold, which really arose out of the revolt of Northumberland, gets mixed up with perverted accounts of Harold’s election to the Kingdom. Orderic (492 D) seems to have fancied that Tostig was not only the eldest son of Godwine, but that Tostig, and not Harold, succeeded his father in the West-Saxon Earldom, and that by hereditary right (“patris consulatus, quem Tosticus, quia major natu erat, longo tempore sub Eduardo rege jam tenuerat”). On Harold’s election as King, Tostig begins to reprove his brother for his usurpation and oppressions (“advertens Heraldi fratris sui prævalere facinus et regnum Angliæ variis gravari oppressionibus ægrè tulit”); Harold accordingly deprives him of his Earldom and banishes him. The strangest thing of all is that William of Malmesbury, who, in the proper place (ii. 200), gives a very fair account of the Northumbrian revolt, and one highly favourable to Harold, should afterwards (iii. 252) represent Harold as banishing Tostig after his 627accession. After Eadward’s death, he says “perstitit in incœpto Haroldus ut fratrem exlegaret.” Snorro (Johnstone, 192, 193. Laing, iii. 77, 78) makes Tostig the elder brother, the head Earl of the Kingdom, and the commander of the King’s armies. Harold, the youngest brother, is Eadward’s personal favourite, he is always about him, and—having seemingly supplanted Hugolin the Frenchman—has the care of all his treasures. Here again the real position of the two brothers is amusingly transposed. On Harold’s election as King, Tostig, who had himself aspired to the Crown, is much displeased, and has sharp words with his brother. Harold of course refuses to surrender the Crown, and, fearing the ability and popularity of Tostig, he deprives him of his command of the army and of his precedence over other Earls. Tostig, unwilling to be the subject of his brother, leaves the country of his own free will and goes to Flanders. Saxo (207) is one degree less wild, in so far as he realizes that Harold was the elder brother. In his version, after Harold’s election, his younger brothers generally (“minores Godovini filii majorem perosi”)—Gyrth and Leofwine no doubt as well as Tostig—envious of their brother’s election and unwilling to submit to his authority, leave the country and seek for help abroad.

It is needless to point out how, in all these versions, the chronology is altered, as well as the whole circumstances of the story, in order to represent Harold as the oppressor of his brother. But it should be remarked that these calumnies are of a wholly different kind from the calumnies which speak of an early quarrel, and that the two in effect exclude one another. In the versions of Orderic, Saxo, and Snorro, the enmity between the brothers does not begin till after Harold’s election to the Kingdom.

It may be some refreshment to wind up with the amusing version of Peter Langtoft, who, by the way, seems to have thought that Godwine was still alive in 1065. He at least has no spite against Harold; he even (p. 64 Hearne) tells the story of the murder of Gospatric, the blame of which he ventures to lay on the Lady Eadgyth (“My boke ... sais þe quene Egyn, þe blame suld scho bere”); he then goes on;

“Tostus of Cumbirland retted Godwyn þer tille.

Tostus of Cumbirland he was chefe Justise,

Ageyn þe erle Godwyn he gert sette assise.

628Gospatrike’s dede on Godwyn wild he venge,

Harald souht Tostus, to leue þat ilk challenge.

He praied him for luf, in pes lat him be stille,

And kisse and be gode frende in luf and in a wille.

Tostus wild not leue, bot held on his manace,

And Harald tened withalle, of lond he did him chace.”

NOTE AA. p. 391. Æthelstan, Bishop of Hereford.

Professor Stubbs places the consecration of Æthelstan in 1012. This seems to be the right year, because in that year we find his first signature (“Æðelstanus episcopus,” Cod. Dipl. vi. 165), as well as the last signature (Cod. Dipl. iii. 357) of his predecessor Athulf—he seems always to use this contracted form. At first sight this date seems inconsistent with a document in Cod. Dipl. iv. 234, one to which I have already referred for another purpose (p. 563), in which “Eþelstan Bisceop” is said to have bought lands in Worcestershire of Leofric—perhaps the famous Earl while still a private man in his father’s lifetime—the purchase of which was witnessed by the two Archbishops Ælfheah and Wulfstan. Now Ælfheah, taken captive in September 1011 (see vol. i. p. 385), can neither have consecrated Æthelstan in 1012 nor yet have witnessed a purchase made by him in that year. The transaction spoken of in the document must belong to an earlier time. But the document itself was not written till long after. Many years after the purchase (“æfter þysan manegum gearum”)—at some time between the accession of Cnut and the death of Ealdorman Leofwine—Wulfstan and his son Wulfric tried to disturb Æthelstan in its possession, but a compromise was come to in the Scirgemót of Worcestershire, in which Leofwine, Hakon (see p. 563), and Leofric were present.

The explanation doubtless is that, in a deed drawn up so long after, Æthelstan is spoken of by a title which belonged to him then, but which did not belong to him at the time of the purchase. As for his consecration in 1012, there seems to be no evidence as to the consecrator, but it could not have been Ælfheah.

629

NOTE BB. p. 416. The Family of Leofric.

I know of no authority for any children of Leofric and Godgifu except Earl Ælfgar. It is hardly needful to refute the notion, entertained even by Sir Henry Ellis (ii. 146), that Hereward was a son of the Mercian Earl. On this score even the false Ingulf is guiltless. The mistake arose solely from a late and blundering genealogical roll, printed in the Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, ii. xii. The same roll gives Leofric a third nameless son, who was a child “tertium parvulum cujus nomen non habetur”) at the coming in of William, and was beheaded for the sake of his inheritance. Leofric died an old man in 1057; a son of his could hardly be “parvulus” in 1066. This family seems to have been picked out (see above, vol. i. p. 457) as the special sport of pedigree-makers.

Mr. C. H. Pearson (i. 367) attributes the mistake about Hereward to Sir Francis Palgrave, who is quite guiltless of it. See his History, iii. 467.

Ælfgar’s wife bore the name of Ælfgifu. She appears in Domesday in a form which clearly shows that she survived the Conquest, that she retained her lands, or parts of them, but that she was dead at the time of the Survey. In Leicestershire (231 b) there is a special heading, “Terra Alvevæ Comitissæ,” and in Suffolk (ii. 286 b) one of “Terra Matris Morchari Comitis.” But the word used is not “tenet” but “tenuit.” Cf. also Nottinghamshire, 280 b. I know not on what authority pedigree-makers affirm her to have been a Frenchwoman, sister of William Malet. If so, she must, like the Lady Emma, have changed her name at her marriage. Possibly it was a standing rule that all wives from beyond sea should take the name of Ælfgifu, as if they had come from Elfland.

Of the children of Ælfgar and Ælfgifu, their two famous or infamous sons, Eadwine and Morkere, need no mention here. The existence of a third son, Burchard (see pp. 455, 459), depends on the amount of trust which we may give to a charter preserved in the local history of Rheims, quoted by Sir Henry Ellis (i. 325); “Notum sit Algarum quemdam, Anglorum Comitem, consentiente 630Edwardo Anglorum Rege, Sancto Remigio villam de Lapeleiâ dedisse pro animâ filii sui Burchardi, cujus corpus in polyandrio ecclesiæ quiescit.” Lapley in Northamptonshire and other property belonged at the time of the Survey, not to “the Church of Rheims,” as Sir Henry Ellis says, but to “Saint Remigius of Rheims” (Domesday, 222 b), that is, to the Abbey. The English estate, we are told, grew into a Priory. (I do not know Lapley Priory in Northamptonshire, but there was a Priory of that name in Staffordshire, much more in Ælfgar’s own country, whose church survives.) Now the name Burchard (Burhhard?), though borne by several men T. R. E., can hardly be called a common English name. This name, and the apparent devotion of Ælfgar and his son to the Abbey of Rheims, are by no means enough to prove the foreign origin of Ælfgifu, but they certainly fall in with the tradition.

About the personality of Ealdgyth, daughter of Ælfgar, and wife successively of Gruffydd and Harold, there is no doubt. Florence mentions her incidentally under 1066, as the widow of Harold, and the sister of Eadwine and Morkere. She appears also in Domesday (238 b), where it is said of lands in Warwickshire belonging to Coventry Abbey, “Hanc terram tenuit Aldgid uxor Grifin.” At the time of the Survey it had passed from her to Osbern of Herefordshire, who had sold it to the Abbot. William of Jumièges also says (vii. 31) that Harold “Grithfridi quoque Regis Wallorum, postquam hostilis eum gladius peremit, pulcram conjugem Aldith, præclari Comitis Algari filiam, sibi uxorem junxit.” So Orderic, 492 D; “Ipse [Heraldus] Edgivam sororem eorum [Edwini et Morcari] uxorem habebat, quæ priùs Gritfridi fortissimi Regis Guallorum conjunx fuerat.” He goes on to say that she had borne two children to Gruffydd, “Blidenum regni successorem”—a confusion with Gruffydd’s brother or kinsman Blethgent—and a daughter named Nest. Benoît de Ste. More has a very curious account of Ealdgyth (Chron. Ang. Norm. i. 178);

“Après que Heraut se fu fait Reis,

Se combati od les Galeis.

N’en truis ne l’achaison ne l’ire;

Mais Reis Griffins, qui d’eus ert sire,

Remist eu champ. Heraut l’occist,

Sa femme Aldit saisi e prist,

Qui fille ert del bon conte Algar.

Celi pesa c’unc à sa char

Jut n’adesa ne nuit ne jor,

Kar dame esteit de grant valor.

De grant ire ert sis cors espris

Dunc si estert sis sire occis.

En teu manière et en teu guise

R’aveit Heraut femme conquise.”

631I need not point out the mistakes here, especially the glaring one of putting Harold’s Welsh war after his election to the Kingdom. But the supposed attachment of Ealdgyth to Gruffydd rather than to Harold may be a genuine tradition, as it falls in with other indications.

Two questions here arise about Ealdgyth. Was she the “Eddeva pulcra” of Domesday? and, Was she the only daughter of Ælfgar? Sir Henry Ellis (ii. 79) argues at length that she is “Eddeva pulcra,” in opposition to Mr. Sharon Turner, who identifies that Eddeva with Eadgyth Swanneshals. There is no very distinct evidence, but I rather incline to the latter belief, which I shall have to speak of again. As for the other question, Orderic (511 B) distinctly calls Ealdgyth the only daughter of Ælfgar. But his account is very confused; he not only leaves out Burchard, but he confounds Ælfgar with his father Leofric, and makes Godgifu Ælfgar’s wife instead of his mother. His words are, “Devoti Deo dignique relligionis laude parentes elegantem et multâ laude dignam ediderunt sobolem, Eduinum, Morcarum, et unam filiam nomine Aldit, quæ primò nupsit Guitfrido Regi Guallorum, post cujus mortem sociata est Heraldo Regi Anglorum.” But the genealogy of Leofric’s family which I have already spoken of (vol. i. p. 456. See also Ellis, i. 490) gives Ælfgar a daughter Lucy, who, though unknown to Domesday, inherited the lands of the family (“obtinuit Lucia soror eorum terras paternas”), and who was married, first, in the Conqueror’s time, to Ivo Taillebois, then, in the time of Henry the First, to Roger Fitzgerald, lastly, in the time of Stephen, to Ranulf, Earl of Chester. She had a son by each of the last two husbands. The chronology is as amazing as the whole chronology of this pedigree. A woman whose father died before 1065 is made to bear a son at some time between 1135 and 1154. There was undoubtedly a Lucy, who did marry in succession Roger Fitzgerald and Earl Randolf (Ord. Vit. 871 B), and who was the mother of the Earl’s son William Randolf (an early case of a double name), and who was alive in 1141 (ib. 921 B); but I know of nothing to connect her either with Ivo Taillebois or with the house of Leofric. Lucy, as the name of an Englishwoman in the eleventh century, is as impossible as Rowena or Ulrica, unless indeed the French origin of her mother is again called in. The false Ingulf is, I need not say, great on the subject of Ivo and Lucy, and the legend is 632still swallowed by novelists and local antiquaries. But it is truly amazing to find Sir Francis Palgrave, who was the first to scotch the Crowland snake, in the same company (iii. 472).

Godgifu herself, the grandmother of so many of our characters, is shown to have survived the Conquest, but to have died before the Survey, by the same evidence which proves the like in the case of her daughter-in-law Ælfgifu. Her lands in Leicestershire (231 b) and Warwickshire (239 b) are entered in exactly the same form as those of the wife of Ælfgar. See also Nottinghamshire (280 b), where she appears in company, among others, with Ælfgifu and with “Goda Comitissa,” that is, her own namesake the sister of Eadward, and mother of Ralph of Hereford. But I cannot but think that some of the entries in Staffordshire (248 b, 249) refer to some other Godgifu. In the entries of which I have spoken, including one immediately following (249 b), she is called reverentially “Godeva Comitissa;” here we simply read “Godeva tenuit et libera fuit;” “Hanc tenuit Godeva etiam post adventum Regis W. in Angliam, sed recedere non potuit cum terrâ.” Surely this cannot be the widow, mother, and grandmother of successive Earls of the Mercians.

I may notice that Godgifu, Ælfgifu, and other wives of Earls, are in Domesday, as in Norman writings generally, freely called “Comitissa.” But I have not found any English equivalent for that title. “Lady” is reserved for the King’s wife; an Earl’s wife seems to be simply called the Earl’s wife and nothing else.

NOTE CC. p. 417. Harold the Son of Ralph.

Harold the son of Ralph occurs in Domesday, 129 b, 169, 177, 244. His lands lay in the shires of Gloucester, Worcester, Warwick, and Middlesex, not, oddly enough, where we should have most naturally looked for them, in Herefordshire. In the list of Normans in Duchèsne, p. 1023, he is called Lord of Sudeley. There can however be no doubt that Ewias Harold is called after him. There is nothing to connect that place with Harold the son of Godwine. At the Survey (Domesday, 186) the castle of Ewias was held of the King by Ælfred of Marlborough. It seems to have 633been granted to him by William Fitz-Osbern, who had restored (“refirmaverat”) it. Its later history, and that of the descendants of Harold, I leave to local inquirers, but it is worth asking whether he was the father of the person described in the Gesta Stephani (931 B) as “Robertus, filius Heraldi, vir stemmatis ingenuissimi.” As Robert was a fighter against the Welsh, it seems not unlikely.

I assume that Harold the son of Ralph must have been a different person from Harold the Staller, who is mentioned in Domesday for Lincolnshire (337; cf. 340 b and 350 b). Ralph had possessions in that part of England (337), but, if Harold had been Ralph’s son, the connexion could hardly fail to have been mentioned there, as it is elsewhere. A mere lad also would hardly have been invested with a Stallership. There are several other Harolds distinct alike from Harold the King, Harold the Staller, and Harold the son of Ralph. Such is “Harold ... homo Eluui hiles, qui poterat ire quo volebat,” in the Domesday for Gloucestershire (170). Cf. 288 for a Harold at Warwick who kept his property under William. There are other small entries in the same name.

That Harold must have been very young when his father died is shown by the entry attached to his Middlesex property (129 b), which shows that, in 1066, he was under the wardship of the Lady Eadgyth; “Hoc manerium tenuit Heraldus filius Radulfi Comitis, quem custodiebat Regina Eddid cum manerio eâ die quâ Rex Edwardus fuit vivus et mortuus.” What follows might seem to imply that the Lady did not prove a very faithful guardian; at any rate young Harold lost the lordship; “Postea Willelmus camerarius tenuit de Reginâ in feudo pro tribus libris per annum de firmâ, et post mortem Reginæ [1074] eodem modo tenuit de Rege.”

We may perhaps infer that Harold’s mother Gytha was dead. She appears (“Gethe uxor Radulfi Comitis,” “Gueth Comitissa,” 148) as a landowner in Buckinghamshire in Eadward’s time, but she had nothing at the time of the Survey. The names Gytha and Harold probably point to a connexion by affinity, spiritual or otherwise, with the House of Godwine. Or is it conceivable that this Gytha is the same as Gytha, daughter of Osgod Clapa, and, no doubt long before this time, widow of Tofig the Proud (see vol. i. p. 591)? In any case, the names show that Ralph, with all his contempt for English tactics, had so far identified himself with England as to take a wife of English or Danish birth.

634

NOTE DD. p. 424. The Quasi-Royal Position of Earl Harold.

The indications referred to in the text are all slight when taken separately; still I cannot help thinking that their cumulative force is considerable.

1. There is a charter of Ealdred in Cod. Dipl. iv. 172, in which, after the signatures, among which are those of the King and Earl Harold, we find the formula, “Cum licentiâ Eadwardi Regis et Haroldi Ducis.” In earlier charters, as those of Bishop Oswald, it is common to find the consent of the King and of the Ealdorman expressed in the body of the deed; but this is a different case, as the charter relates to matters in Worcestershire, which was not in Harold’s Earldom. Another charter of 1065 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 162), which Mr. Kemble marks as doubtful, gives Harold the title of “Dei gratiâ Dux.” The King is also “Dei gratiâ,” and the Lady is “Dei pietate;” but no such titles are given to any one else.

I ought to mention that this charter, though not marked as doubtful by Mr. Kemble, has something wrong about it which needs explanation. It is signed by Ealdred as Archbishop, which he became in 1060, and by Walter as Bishop, which he became in 1061; but it is also signed by Earl Leofric, who died in 1057. There is however no need to believe that the charter is spurious. Transcribers often added a description to a simple signature, so that a charter, as we have it, often has its witnesses described, not by the titles which they bore at the time, but by higher titles which they bore afterwards. But, even if both documents are spurious, I still think that they prove something. A forger, unless he lived very near the time, would have no temptation to invent anything in favour of Harold. He must have imitated some genuine formula.

2. Nothing can be stronger than the way in which Florence couples together the King and the Earl in describing the homage of the Welsh Princes in 1064 or 1065; “Rex ... cui et Haroldo Comiti fidelitatem illi juraverunt, et ad imperium illorum mari terrâque se fore paratos.” This reminds one of Hugh Capet and his son Robert (see vol. i. p. 269), or of any other case of joint 635sovereignty. This language of so discreet a writer as Florence is different from the Biographer’s rhetorical coupling of Eadward and Tostig quoted in p. 618.

3. The description of Harold as “Dux Anglorum” in the Bayeux Tapestry is well known. See vol. i. pp. 179, 289. We have indeed elsewhere come across “Algarus quidam, Comes Anglorum” (see p. 629), but the “quidam” makes a great difference.

4. Far stronger however than all is the title given to Harold by Florence when describing his election to the Crown. He is then “Subregulus Haroldus, Godwini Ducis filius.” The “Subregulus” is surely meant to be something more than the “Dux.” In fact “Subregulus,” “Undercyning,” is a title which is most familiarly given to vassal Princes, as to those who attended Eadgar at Chester (Flor. Wig. 973), and to Gruffydd himself (Chron. Ab. 1056). But I know of no instance of such a title being ever given to any mere subject except Harold, unless a parallel is sought in the strange East-Anglian titles quoted in vol. i. p. 289. But I cannot think that the description of “Half-King” was meant as a serious title.

NOTE EE. p. 430. Harold’s Foreign Travels and Pilgrimage.

The pilgrimage of Harold to Rome, and, still more, his investigations into the political state of Gaul, are among the additions to our knowledge which we owe to the Biographer of Eadward. The latter most remarkable piece of information is wholly new; with regard to the pilgrimage, the Biographer only confirms a statement which we might otherwise have set down as doubtful.

The words of the writer of the De Inventione may be taken as implying, though not directly asserting, extensive foreign travels on the part of Harold. When speaking of the relics given by the Earl to his church at Waltham, he calls him (c. 14), “In diversis terrarum partibus non segnis conquisitor”—namely of relics and such like treasures. The romantic biographer of Harold, speaking of the same relics, distinctly asserts (p. 182) that some of them were obtained by the Earl on a pilgrimage to Rome; “Adierat quidem antea, nondum videlicet Anglorum consequutus regnum, limina 636Christi Apostolorum,” &c. This is the sort of point on which even so romantic a writer as Harold’s biographer was likely to preserve a bit of trustworthy tradition; still one would hardly have ventured to assert the fact on his sole authority. The Life of Eadward has now put the fact of the pilgrimage beyond doubt, and it has also shown that Harold’s journeys in other parts of the world were not wholly owing to a desire of collecting relics. This is a good illustration of the way in which truth sometimes lurks in very suspicious quarters.

The fact of the pilgrimage then is certain; at its date we can only guess. All the Chronicles, oddly enough, are silent about the pilgrimage of Harold, though that of Tostig is carefully recorded. But there are several indications which may lead us to a probable conjecture. If the Biographer of Eadward pays the least regard to chronology, Harold’s journey took place after Gyrth’s appointment to his Earldom, which we have seen reason to fix in 1057, and before Tostig’s pilgrimage, which the Worcester Chronicle fixes to 1061. If we may at all trust Harold’s biographer, which, for the nonce, it seems that we may, the journey took place before the consecration at Waltham in 1060. We have thus two years to choose from, 1058 and 1059, and two considerations will, I think, lead us to fix on the former of the two. That was the year in which Ælfgar (see p. 434) was outlawed for the second time, and almost immediately returned to his Earldom by force. Such violent doings seem to point to a time when the powers of government were relaxed, as they doubtless would be, by the absence of Harold. Again, the grant of the pallium to Stigand, who, it should be remembered, did not go for it in person, seems to point to a time when some unusually strong influence, such as the personal presence of the great Earl, could be brought to bear on the Papal mind. There is then no direct proof, but there is, I think, a strong probability, that this remarkable journey on the part of Harold took place in the year 1058.

The question of the oath I shall examine in the next volume. I will here only quote in full, without professing to understand every word of it, the passage from the Biographer (p. 410) which describes Harold’s political studies in Gaul; “At ille superior [Haroldus] mores, consilia, et vires Gallicorum principum, non tam per suos quam per se, scrutatus, astutiâ et callido animi ingenio 637et diuturniori cum procrastinatione intentissimè notaverat, ut in eis habitaturus esset, si eis opus haberet in alicujus negotii administratione. Adeò quoque consilio suo exhaustos pernoverat, ut nullâ ab eis relatione falli posset. Attentiùs ergo consideratâ Francorum consuetudine, quum ipse quoque apud eos non obscuri esset nominis et famæ, Romam ad confessionem Apostolorum processit.” I conceive that the general sense is what I said in the text, but the passage is most obscure, no doubt purposely obscure. To have set forth Harold’s negotiations in France in a clear light would not have suited either the position or the plan of the Biographer. Writing under William, to Eadgyth, he never mentions William’s name, or even alludes to him in any intelligible way. The words which I have put in Italics are the hardest to understand of all. Do they imply that Harold formed, or contemplated, alliances with any French Princes, say with the Count of Anjou or with the King himself, in case mutual support against William should ever be needed?

NOTE FF. p. 449. The Quarrel between Earl Harold and Bishop Gisa.

The original account of the matters in dispute between Harold and Gisa will be found, in Gisa’s own words, in the Historiola de Primordiis Episcopatûs Somersetensis, printed in Hunter’s Ecclesiastical Documents, p. 15. Gisa’s narrative grows into a far more violent account in the local history of Wells, by a Canon of that Church in the fifteeenth century, printed in Anglia Sacra, i. 559. Lastly, we get the story with further improvements in Godwin’s Lives of the Bishops and other later works. The whole matter is well discussed, and gone into most thoroughly, by Mr. J. R. Green in the Transactions of the Somersetshire Archæological and Natural History Society, 1863–4, p. 148, a paper which has suggested several points in the present note.

That the King who made the original grant to Duduc was Cnut is plain from the words of Gisa, who speaks of them as Duduc’s private property obtained before he became Bishop (“possessiones quas hæreditario jure a rege ante episcopatum promeruerat”). Duduc became Bishop in 1033. It is difficult to understand how 638the Abbey of Gloucester could have formed part of the grant, or how this statement is to be reconciled with the local history of Gloucester referred to in p. 435. Gisa goes on to say that, when Harold took the other property, Gloucester was granted to Stigand (“præfatum monasterium injustâ ambitione a Rege sibi dari petiit [Stigandus] et impetratum ad horam obtinuit.” On Abbeys held by Stigand see Hist. Eliens. ii. 41, Gale 514). Gloucester therefore has no further connexion with the story, which turns wholly on the possessions in Somersetshire. These were the two lordships of Banwell and Congresbury. There were also relics, church-plate, and books. These moveable goods, we may perhaps guess, found their way to Waltham.

The grant of Duduc to the Church of Wells is described in these words; “[possessiones] roboratas cyrographis Regiæ auctoritatis ac donationis Deo Sanctoque Andreæ tempore Edwardi piissimi Regi obtulit”). Gisa then records what seems to be an oral bequest of the moveable property made by Duduc on his death-bed (“jam imminente die vocationis suæ adhibuit”). Duduc dies and is buried, and the story goes on;—“Haroldus verò, tunc temporis Dux Occidentalium Saxonum, non solùm terras invadere, verùm etiam episcopalem sedem omnibus his spoliare non timuit.” There is nothing in Gisa’s narrative to imply that Harold seized any part of the ancient possessions of the See, but only the new gifts of Duduc. Gisa then goes on to mention the poor estate in which he found his Church, the small number of the Canons, and their wide departure from the strictness of Lotharingian discipline. To help him in his schemes of reform, he begged certain lands of the King and the Lady, namely Wedmore, the scene of the famous peace between Ælfred and Guthrum (see vol. i. p. 48), and the lordships of Mark and Mudgeley in the same neighbourhood. Much about these gifts, and about other possessions and acquisitions of Gisa, will be found in the charters in Cod. Dipl. iv. 163, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 257, charters addressed to Harold, and in which the restoration of anything taken from the See is commanded. (See Mr. Green, p. 154.) But there is no mention of either Banwell or Congresbury, except in the manifestly spurious document in iv. 163, on which see especially Mr. Green’s note, p. 153. Gisa then goes on to say that he excommunicated one Alsie (Ælfsige?) who detained from the See the lordship of Winesham (see Domesday, 63989 b), even after it was adjudged to the See by the Scirgemót (“judicium provincialium”). He then mentions his intention, never earned into effect, of excommunicating Harold himself (“Haroldum etiam Ducem, qui Ecclesiam mihi comissam spoliaverat, nunc secretò nunc palam correctum, pari sententiâ cogitabam ferire”). Then Harold, after his election to the Crown, promises to restore the disputed lordships and to grant others as well (“non solùm ea quæ tulerat se redditurum verum etiam ampliora spopondit daturum”). With this statement must be compared Harold’s writ in favour of Gisa in Cod. Dipl. iv. 305, where all the Bishop’s rights and possessions are confirmed to him in the strongest language, but without the mention of any particular places. Gisa then tells us how, after William’s accession, he made his complaint to the new King and obtained the restoration of Winesham. He goes on to mention his acquisition of Combe (p. 18) and other places, but he says nothing about Congresbury and Banwell, the lordships originally in dispute. But we learn their disposal from Domesday. Both are entered there as being held by Harold T. R. E. At the time of the Survey, Congresbury (Domesday, 87) was held by the King, except some portions which had been alienated to different persons, Gisa himself, possibly in his personal character, being among them. Banwell (89 b) was held by the Bishop. It is plain then that the whole controversy with Harold, as far as real property was concerned, related to these two lordships. There is nothing about any other property of the See, nothing to imply that the poverty of the Canons of which Gisa so feelingly complains was in any way caused by the Earl’s occupation of Banwell and Congresbury. The story is plainly one of disputed right to those two lordships and to the moveable goods of Duduc.