APPENDIX.

NOTE A. p. 5. The Election and Coronation of Eadward.

In reading the account of Eadward’s accession to the Crown, as told in the Chronicles and by Florence, we are at once struck by the great and unusual delay between his first election and his consecration as King. He is chosen in London in June by a popular movement which could not even wait for the burial of the deceased King; but he is not crowned till the Easter of the next year. No explanation is given of the delay, no account of the way in which the intervening months were occupied, no statement where Eadward was at the time of Harthacnut’s death. We must therefore look to other writers for the means of filling up this singular gap. I need hardly again refute the wild romance of Thierry, of which I spoke in vol. i. p. 592. I will only say that Eadward’s Westminster Charter (Cod. Dipl. iv. 173), which, doubtful as it is, is at least as good authority as Brompton or Knighton, makes him speak of himself as “eo [regno] potitus sine ullo bellorum labore.” It will be more profitable to examine the witness of those writers who wrote at all near the time, or who were at all likely to preserve contemporary traditions.

According to Eadward’s Biographer (p. 394), as soon as England was free from her Danish rulers (see vol. i. p. 592), Godwine at once proposed the election of Eadward as the natural heir (“ut Regem suum recipiant in nativi juris sui throno”). Godwine being looked on as a common father, everybody agreed to his proposal (“quoniam pro patre ab omnibus habebatur, in paterno consultu libenter audiebatur”). Earls and Bishops are sent to fetch Eadward 518(“mittuntur post eum”); they bring him with them; he is joyfully received, and crowned at Canterbury.

William of Poitiers (p. 85 Giles), as might be supposed, knows nothing about Godwine, or about any free election by the English people. Eadward, according to him, was chosen under a most powerful congè d’élire and letter missive from his cousin the Duke of the Normans. The English are disputing about the succession, when a Norman embassy comes, threatening a Norman invasion if Eadward is not received. The nation chooses the wiser part, and Eadward comes home, protected by a small array of Norman knights (“Disceptantes Angli deliberatione suis rationibus utilissima consenserunt, legationibus justa petentibus acquiescere, quam Normannorum vim experiri. Reducem cum non maximo præsidio militis Normannici cupidè sibi eum præstituerunt, ne manu validiore, si Comes Normannicus adveniret, subigerentur”). The same version is given in a shorter form in the Chronicle of Saint Wandrille (D’Achery, ii. 286). Eadward, already chosen and crowned King, but hitherto kept out of his Kingdom by Swend, Cnut, and others, is now restored by Norman help (“In regnum paternum adnitentibus Normannis rediit”).

Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 759 A) mixes up the accession of Eadward with his version of the death of Ælfred (see vol. i. p. 543), which, it will be remembered, he places after the death of Harthacnut. Ælfred had been slain by the English, because he had brought too many Normans with him; the English then send to Normandy, offering the Crown to Eadward, on condition that he brings only a small body of Normans with him (“Miserunt ergo pro Edwardo juniore in Normanniam nuntios et obsides, mandantes ei quod paucissimos Normannorum secum adduceret, et eum in Regem fidelissimè stabilirent”). Eadward comes over with a small company (“cum paucis venit in Angliam”); he is chosen King by all folk (“electus est in Regem ab omni populo”), and is consecrated at Easter by Eadsige at Winchester.

The Winchester Annals (Luard, pp. 18–20) swell out the story into a long romance; but some points are worthy of notice. On the death of Harthacnut, Godwine is, by a decree of the Witan and with the consent of the Lady Emma (“Reginæ assensu et magnatum consilio”), appointed Regent of the Kingdom till a King can be chosen (“regni cura Comiti Godwino committitur, donec qui dignus 519esset eligeretur in Regem”). Eadward is in Normandy, where, since the death of Duke Robert, he has no friends; he has no hope from his mother; he determines to trust himself to the mercy of his enemy Godwine (“inter desperandum tutius credebat manifesto supplicare inimico, quam fictum amicum sine caussâ sollicitare”). He comes over to England, he lands at Southampton, he avoids his mother at Winchester, but goes to Godwine in London, and throws himself at the Earl’s feet. A long dialogue follows, the upshot of which is that Godwine swears fidelity to Eadward and promises him the Crown. Eadward is sent to Winchester in disguise, and is bidden to reveal himself to no one. Godwine meanwhile summons the Witan to Winchester for the election of a King. They meet in the Old Minster. The Lady Emma seemingly presides; the Archbishops are at her right hand, the Earl of the West-Saxons at her left. Eadward, veiled, sits at the feet of Godwine. At the proper moment Godwine unveils him; “Here,” he says, “is your King; here is Eadward, son of this Lady Emma and of Æthelred King of the English. I choose him King, and am the first to become his man” (“Huic ego omnium primus homagium facio”). A debate follows; some object to the choice, but no man dares seriously to oppose Godwine. Eadward is elected and crowned.

The Hyde writer (pp. 287, 288), like Henry of Huntingdon, connects the accession of Eadward with the death of Ælfred, and, like William of Poitiers, brings in Duke William as a prominent actor. After Ælfred’s death William meditates revenge, but an English embassy comes, praying for another son of Æthelred to be sent to them as their King (“rogant sibi alium dominum”—domini?—“sui transmitti filium”), and promising him all loyal service. William will not allow his cousin to adventure himself, unless some of the noblest of the English, and especially one of the sons of Godwine, are given him as hostages. This is done, and Eadward is brought over to England by a Norman fleet.

Lastly, charters exist which imply that Eadward was for a while in Normandy after he had acquired a right to the title of King. At an earlier time he and his brother had subscribed a charter of Duke Robert, with the form “Signum Hetwardi. Signum Helwredi.” (Delisle, Preuves, p. 11.) But the cartulary of Saint Michael’s Mount contains two Charters in which Eadward is called “Rex.” I do not rely so much on the Charter in Eadward’s own 520name, which is printed in Cod. Dipl. iv. 251, and Delisle, Preuves, 20. It is signed by Robert Archbishop of Rouen, who died in 1037. Now it is really inconceivable that Eadward should call himself King before 1042, unless possibly in some moment of exultation when Duke Robert’s fleet was setting forth to restore him. (See vol. i. p. 525.) The matter of the charter also is strange, and the English spelling “Eadwardus” is unusual in a document which must have been drawn up in Normandy. I have more faith in a Charter of Duke William (Delisle, Preuves, p. 19), which, among other signatures, has that of “Hatuardus Rex.” This looks to me far more likely to be genuine. It is quite conceivable that, if Eadward was asked to witness a charter of his cousin’s, just as he was leaving Normandy in 1042, he might assume the title, though not yet strictly entitled to it by English Law.

The accounts of all these different writers seem to be independent of one another, unless the Hyde version is made up by compounding the story of William of Poitiers with that which we find in Henry of Huntingdon. The mention of the hostages is one form of a story which I shall have elsewhere to discuss at length. All these accounts agree in placing Eadward in Normandy at the moment of Harthacnut’s death. William of Malmesbury (ii. 196) however supposes him to have been in England. With this difference, his story is much the same as that of the Winchester Annals stripped of its romantic details. It is probably the groundwork round which that legend has grown. Eadward, not knowing whither to turn after the death of Harthacnut, throws himself at the feet of Godwine, and craves leave to return to Normandy. The Earl raises him, and addresses him in a speech whose substance may well be historical, and to which I have not hesitated to give a place in the text. Eadward promises everything; he will be Godwine’s firm friend; he will promote his sons and marry his daughter. The Witan meet at Gillingham; Godwine speaks on behalf of Eadward, and becomes his man (“rationibus suis explicitis, Regem efficit, hominio palam omnibus dato”); the election, the coronation, the punishment of the opponents of Eadward, follow as I have told them in the text.

Now it strikes me that, in these accounts, when carefully compared together, we may find the means of filling up the gap, and of explaining the delay, between the first election and the coronation. 521In all the versions the time is filled up by negotiation, not by war. In most of them the negotiation is carried on between Eadward and Godwine; in all those which mention Godwine at all, he stands forth as the leading man in the business, in fact as the man who makes Eadward King. We see glimpses of two Assemblies, the former being that hasty Gemót in London which chose Eadward before the burial of Harthacnut, and a later one at Gillingham or elsewhere shortly before the coronation. Again, all the accounts, except that of William of Malmesbury, conceive Eadward as being in Normandy. The inferior writers assert it; the contemporary Biographer clearly implies it. Putting these hints together, I have ventured to construct the narrative in the text. Eadward is chosen in London immediately on the death of Harthacnut; as he is absent, an embassy, doubtless headed by Godwine, is sent to offer him the Crown. The case is thus far almost identical with the story of the first election of Eadward’s half-brother Harthacnut. Delay is in both cases caused by the election of a King who is absent. Eadward does not indeed tarry so long as Harthacnut did; but his indecision, his unwillingness to accept the Crown, the negotiations which were needed to overcome that unwillingness, caused delay, and gave time for an adverse party to form itself. A second Assembly, that recorded by William of Malmesbury, was therefore needed to overcome all objections, and to elect Eadward, now present in person, in a more formal manner. We thus get, from one quarter or another, a credible narrative, which fills up the gap in the Chronicles without contradicting their statements. A few special points must be noticed.

1. We see that most of our statements assert or imply that Eadward was in Normandy. Now it is most certain that Eadward had been recalled to England by Harthacnut (vol. i. p. 584), and that the English court was now his recognized dwelling-place. But this is quite consistent with the notion, which I have ventured to throw out in the text, that Eadward was at this moment in Normandy on some temporary visit or pilgrimage. This view explains all the statements. The fact that Eadward was in Normandy at the moment—a fact which we may surely accept on the credit of the Biographer, to say nothing of the Norman Charters quoted above—led careless writers to forget his recall by Harthacnut, and to speak as if he had never left Normandy since the accession of Cnut. On 522the other hand, the fact of his recall led William of Malmesbury to forget or to disbelieve that he was in Normandy at the time of Harthacnut’s death. Then the Winchester Annalist, aware of Eadward’s absence, tried to patch it in to William’s account, which was not an easy matter. That an embassy should be sent to Eadward in Normandy was credible enough. It was also credible that Eadward, if in England, might throw himself into the arms of Godwine. But no story can be more unlikely than that which represents Eadward, when safe in Normandy, as coming of his own accord to England to put himself into the hands of the man whom the same account represents as the murderer of his brother.

2. I accept the second Assembly as the only means of reconciling the different accounts and of meeting the probabilities of the case. And I accept Gillingham as its place, on the authority of William of Malmesbury. It is true that one of William’s manuscripts places it in London, while the Winchester Annalist transfers it to his own city and his own church. The universal law of criticism comes in here. If a thing happened either in London or at Winchester, no transcriber or copyist would be likely to remove it to Gillingham. But nothing was more natural than for a transcriber to alter Gillingham into London, if he thought he could thereby bring his text into conformity with the Chronicles. The Winchester writer would have every motive to confound the Gemót at Gillingham with the consecration which shortly followed at Winchester. The very strangeness of the choice of Gillingham for such an Assembly is the best proof that it is the right place. By Gillingham, I may add, William of Malmesbury can only have meant the West-Saxon Gillingham, already mentioned in his history (ii. 180). The Kentish Gillingham would connect itself more naturally with the Biographer’s statement of a coronation at Canterbury, but the other is the more obvious place for a Meeting which was followed by a coronation at Winchester.

3. The reader must judge for himself as to the amount of value to be attached to the statements of William of Poitiers and the Hyde writer as to the influence of the Duke of the Normans in the matter. It must not be forgotten that in 1042 William was only fourteen years old, and in the midst of the troubles of his minority. It is quite possible that William or his advisers may, perhaps even then with some vague designs on the English Crown, 523have pressed the acceptance of that Crown on Eadward. And, in any case, the story could hardly have arisen, unless embassies of some sort had passed between England and Normandy in the course of the business. It so far falls in with my view of Eadward’s position.

4. The statement of the Biographer that Eadward was crowned at Canterbury seems, at first sight, very strange. There can be no doubt that the final ceremony took place at Winchester. That the Biographer’s account is rhetorical and somewhat confused is no more than his usual fashion. But it would be strange if a contemporary made a mistake on a point of this kind. Is it possible that the ceremony was performed twice? Coronations were sometimes repeated in those days. If we read the Biographer’s account narrowly, it is plain that he distinguishes between the ceremony at Canterbury, which he evidently looks on as happening immediately on Eadward’s landing, and the reception of the foreign ambassadors, which takes place when the news had reached foreign courts (“exhilaratus quod eum in paternâ sede inthronizatum dedicerat”). But their reception must surely be placed at the final and solemn consecration at Winchester. A twofold coronation, as well as a twofold Gemót, will perhaps solve all difficulties.

There is one more point to be discussed. According to William of Malmesbury, there was an opposition, seemingly a rather strong one, made to Eadward’s election. He does not say on whose behalf the objection was brought. But it is hardly possible that it could have been made on behalf of any one except Swend Estrithson. The English writers indeed make no mention of Swend in the matter, but in Adam of Bremen we find what may pass as Swend’s own version. Adam knew the Danish King personally (ii. 73), and he probably put on record what Swend told him. It will be remembered that, just at the moment of Harthacnut’s death, Swend was in Denmark, carrying on the war with Magnus (see vol. i. p. 583). Adam then goes on thus;

“Suein, victus à Magno, quum in Angliam remearet, Hardechnut mortuum repperit. In cujus locum Angli priùs elegerunt fratrem ejus Eduardum, quem de priori marito Imma genuit; vir sanctus et timens Deum. Isque suspectum habens Suein, quod sceptrum sibi Anglorum reposceret, cum tyranno pacem fecit, constituens eum 524proximum se mortuo regni Anglorum hæredem, vel si filios susceperit. Tali pacto mitigatus Suein in Daniam remeavit.” (ii. 74.)

I may here note that the word “priùs” in this passage distinctly refers to the first election in London. And, whether we believe Swend’s story of the bargain between himself and Eadward or not, we have here quite enough to make an opposition on Swend’s behalf highly probable. “Tyrannus” is of course to be taken in the sense of “pretender.”

Another passage of Adam (iii. 13) must here be mentioned;

“Simul eo tempore separabant se Angli a regno Danorum, filiis Gudwini rebellionis auctoribus, quos amitæ Regis Danorum filios esse diximus, et quorum sororem Eduardus Rex duxit uxorem. Hi namque, factâ conspiratione, fratres Suein Regis, qui in Angliâ Duces erant, alterum Bern statim obtruncant, alterum Osbern cum suis omnibus ejecerunt à patriâ.”

This at first sight appears to be an account of the separation between Denmark and England on the death of Harthacnut. It is not however really so. It must be taken in connexion with a passage two chapters back (iii. 11), in which Adam gives a most strange version of the events which followed the death of Magnus in 1048. In the true account, Swend then asked for English help, which was refused, and a peace was concluded between England and Harold Hardrada (see above, p. 93). But Adam makes Swend possess both Denmark and Norway, and then prepare to invade England (“Suein duo regna possedit, classemque parâsse dicitur, ut Angliam suo juri subjiceret”). Eadward agrees to pay tribute, and renews the promise of the succession (“Verum sanctissimus Rex Edwardus, quum justitiâ regnum gubernaret, tunc quoque pacem eligens, victori obtulit tributum, statuens eum, ut supra dictum est, post se regni hæredem”). This must be another version of the intended expedition of Magnus (see above, p. 73). On the strength of this tribute, Adam seems to look upon Swend as at least overlord of England (“Quum Rex juvenis Suein tria pro libitu suo regna tenuerit”). He seems to look on Beorn and Osbeorn as Swend’s representatives in England, and the murder of Beorn by Swegen is made into the groundwork of a story of “rebellio,” “conspiratio,” and what not, about the sons of Godwine in general.

The only historical value of this very confused account is that it helps us to the very probable fact of the banishment of Osbeorn, of 525whom we do not hear in the English writers till 1069. But the story is very curious, as it is the evident groundwork of the wonderful tale in Saxo (p. 202). Saxo looks on Swend as the natural sovereign of England after the death of Harthacnut. Going to Denmark to assert his rights there, he left his interests in England in the hands of his cousins the sons of Godwine. From Eadward himself he feared nothing, unlike Harthacnut, who (see vol. i. p. 583, n. 4) had dreaded his ambition, and who therefore made him his colleague in the Kingdom, lest he should attempt to gain the whole (“Retinendæ insulæ spem non solùm in Godovini filiis, quibus sanguine admodùm conjunctus fuerat, reponens, sed etiam ex ipsâ consortis sui”—Eadwardi sc.—“stoliditate desidiâque præsumens”). But Harold the son of Godwine betrays Swend’s trust, makes Eadward King, and massacres the Danes, according to the story in vol. i. p. 592.

I do not profess to harmonize every detail of the conflicting stories about Eadward, Magnus, and Swend. But I think that there is enough evidence to lead us to believe that Eadward’s election was opposed by a Danish party in Swend’s interest, and that these were the persons who were marked at the time and gradually punished afterwards. See pp. 9, 63, 72, 90.

NOTE B. p. 21. The Legendary History of Eadward.

There is something very remarkable in that gradual developement of popular reverence for King Eadward, which at last issued in his being acknowledged as the Patron Saint of England. I have endeavoured in the text to point out the chief causes from which this feeling arose; how Eadward was, in different ways, the one person whom Normans and Englishmen could unite in honouring. I will now attempt to trace out the growth of the feeling itself, and to point out some of the ways in which Eadward’s true character and history have been clouded over by legendary and miraculous tales.

Every English writer, as I shall presently show, speaks of Eadward with marked respect, with a degree of respect, in most cases, 526which their own narratives of his actions hardly account for. Yet, alongside of this, we find indications of a counter feeling, as if there were all along some who thought of him pretty much as the modern historian is driven to think of him. The Scandinavian writers, placed beyond the influences which had effect upon both English and Norman writers, seem to have all along estimated him nearly at his true value. Saxo, though writing long after Eadward had become a recognized saint, treats him with great irreverence, and speaks openly of his “stoliditas et desidia.” The biographer of Olaf Tryggwesson, according to whom Eadward was a special admirer of his own hero, gives him only the rather faint praise of being “princeps optimus in multis” (“oc var agetur Kongr i mórgum lutum.” p. 262). In Snorro’s time he had advanced somewhat; “Hann var kalladr Játvardr inn Gódi, hann var sva” (Ant. Celt. Scand. 189. Laing, iii. 75). But his sanctity still seems only local; Snorro says emphatically that “Englishmen call him a saint” (“oc kalla Enskir menn hann Helgan.” Ant. Celt. Scand. 191. Laing, iii. 77). Adam of Bremen, who, as regards English matters, may almost pass for a Scandinavian writer, is Eadward’s warmest admirer in that part of the world. He gives him perhaps the only unreserved praise which he gets in Northern Europe. With Adam he is not only “vir bonus et timens Deum” (ii. 74), but he rises to the dignity of “sanctissimus Rex Edwardus” (iii. 11). William of Malmesbury, in his accustomed way of letting us see both sides of a question, shows us that in his day there were still people in England by whom the royal saint was lightly esteemed, and he himself seems now and then to halt between two opinions. He gives him (iii. 259) no higher surname than “Edwardus Simplex,” and over and over again, as if of set purpose, he speaks of his “simplicitas” as his chief characteristic. The utmost that he can say for him is that his simplicity won for him favour and protection both with God and man. He was (ii. 196) “vir propter morum simplicitatem parum imperio idoneus, sed Deo devotus, ideoque ab eo directus.” “Fovebat profecto ejus simplicitatem Deus.” (Ib.) “Quamvis vel deses vel simplex putaretur, habebat Comites qui eum ex humili in altum conantem erigerent.” William believes in his holiness, and even in his miraculous powers, but he has not wholly given up the right of criticism upon his character and actions.

527The English Chroniclers, and their harmonizer Florence, record Eadward’s actions with perfect impartiality. Nowhere in their narratives do they display towards him any of that affection which they do display towards Harold and other actors in the story. Nor do they ever speak of him with bated breath, as of an acknowledged saint. But the Abingdon and Worcester Chroniclers, and Florence also, all send him out of the world with a panegyric. The unbending Godwinist at Peterborough alone makes no sign. But Florence’s panegyric is of the most general kind. He is (A. 1066) “Anglorum decus, pacificus Rex Eadwardus.” And the elaborate poem in the two Chronicles attributes to the “baleless King” only the mildest and most monastic virtues. One can hardly keep from a smile, till we reach the genuine tribute of admiration with which the poet winds up. He speaks at last from the heart when he makes it Eadward’s highest praise to have “made fast his realm” to “Harold the noble Earl.”

The Chroniclers and Florence imply nothing as to any extraordinary powers possessed by Eadward. Of these powers we get the first glimpses in the contemporary Biographer. Already, within eight years after his death, Eadward was held, at least by those who sought to win favour with his widow, to have wrought miracles, to have seen visions, to have been the subject of the visions of others. When Eadward was taken over as a boy to Normandy, Brihtwold, Bishop of Ramsbury, had a vision in which he saw Saint Peter consecrating Eadward as King (Vita Eadw. 394). The Biographer also (pp. 430, 1) records the unintelligible talk of Eadward on his death-bed, in which he already discerns a prophecy, and he severely rebukes Archbishop Stigand, whose practical mind set small store by the babble of the sick man. Eadward also appears in his pages as the first of the long line of English Kings who undertook to cure the evil by the royal touch. By washing and touching he healed (428) a scrofulous woman, and, what one would hardly have expected, whereas she had hitherto been barren, the touch of Eadward changed her into a joyful mother of children. But here William of Malmesbury again helps us. He is a full believer in Eadward’s miraculous power, but he again (ii. 222) lets us see that there were two opinions on the subject. Some people affirmed that Eadward cured the evil, not by virtue of his holiness, but by virtue of his royal descent (“Nostro tempore quidam falsam 528insumunt operam, qui asseverant istius morbi curationem non ex sanctitate, sed ex regalis prosapiæ hæreditate fluxisse”). So others at a later time, as Peter of Blois (ep. 150, vol. ii. p. 82 Giles), held that the Kings of England possessed the gift by virtue of their royal unction. William argues against such views, but by so doing he proves that Eadward’s claims to holiness and miraculous power were still a moot point in his time.

Besides this official kind of miracle, Eadward, according to his Biographer, wrought other wonderful works. A blind man was cured by the water in which the King had washed (429), and several cures were wrought at his tomb (435). One is almost tempted to suspect that these stories are interpolations, but there is no need for the supposition. An interpolator would surely have taken care to insert the more famous stories of the ring and of the Seven Sleepers, of which the Biographer tells us nothing. We must remember how men then, and for ages afterwards, instead of being surprised at miracles, looked for them. We must not forget that Queen Anne touched for the evil as well as King Eadward; we must remember that alleged miracles were wrought by the blood, not only of Thomas of London and Simon of Montfort, but also of Charles the First.

William of Malmesbury, clearly with the Biographer before him, enlarges greatly on Eadward’s miraculous and prophetic powers (ii. 220–227), adding to the stories in the Life the vision of the Seven Sleepers (see above, p. 511). But the main disseminator of legendary lore about Eadward was Osbern or Osbert of Clare, Prior of Westminster, who had a hand in procuring his formal canonization, and who wrote a book on his life and miracles (Introduction to M. H. B. 16. Luard, Preface xxv. Hardy’s Catalogue of British History, i. 637, 642). His work has never been printed, but it is the groundwork of the well known Life by Æthelred of Rievaux, printed in the Decem Scriptores. On this again is founded the French Life printed by Mr. Luard, which however adds many particulars which are not to be found in Æthelred. Both of these are truly wonderful productions. Of the French writer I have already given a specimen in vol. i. p. 592. Perhaps his grandest achievement is to make Godwine kill Eadmund Ironside (p. 47. V. 775). Both he and the Abbot of Rievaux agree in describing King Æthelred as a mighty warrior, fighting manfully against the 529Danes. He is “Rex strenuissimus,” “gloriosus Rex” (X Scriptt. 372. Cf. the Abbot’s Genealogia Regum, 362, 363), and in the French Life (v. 131) we read—

“Li rois Aedgard avoit un fiz

K’ert de force e sens garniz,

Ædelred k’out non, bon justisers,

K’en pees peisible en guerre ert fers.”

In short, for historical purposes, the French Life is absolutely worthless, and Æthelred himself, though often preserving little authentic touches, must be used with the greatest caution. But he, or rather Osbert whom he follows, evidently drew largely from the Biographer. In some cases rhetorical expressions in the authentic Life seem, in the hands of the professed hagiographers, to have grown into legendary facts. Thus the Biographer tells us (393, 394) that, when Emma was with child of Eadward, popular expectation looked forward to the birth of a future King, and that, when the child was born, he was at once seen to be worthy to reign (“Antiqui Regis Æthelredi regiâ conjuge utero gravidâ, in ejus partûs sobole si masculus prodiret, omnis conjurat patria, in eo se dominum exspectare et Regem.... Natus ergo puer dignus præmonstratur patriæ sacramento, qui quandoque paterni sullimaretur solio”). This, in another and more rhetorical passage (428), swells into “Felicissimæ mentionis Rex Ædwardus ante natalis sui diem Deo est electus, unde ad regnum non tam ab hominibus quam, ut supra diximus, divinitùs est consecratus.” All this is quite possible in a sense. That is to say, men may have speculated on the possibility of a son of Emma supplanting the children of the first Ælfgifu, just as Æthelred himself had supplanted his brother Eadward. In Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 372) the rhetoric of the Biographer grows into a regular election of the unborn babe. He is, after much deliberation, chosen by all the people (“magnus episcoporum procerumque conventus, magnus plebisque vulgique concursus”), in preference alike to his half-brother Eadmund Ironside and to his own brother Ælfred, who is erroneously supposed to be the elder of the two. A Norman Chronicler goes a step further. The historian of Saint Wandrille (Chron. Fontanellense, ap. D’Achery, ii. 286) describes Eadward as being not only elected but crowned in his childhood (“Eguvardus, 530qui prior natu erat, tener admodum et in puerilibus adhuc annis constitutus Rex, jubente patre et favente populo terræ unctus est et consecratus”). Here the command of Æthelred comes first; the will of the people is something quite secondary. In the time of the French biographer, popular election of Kings was a thing which had altogether gone out of date, and which was not likely to be acceptable at the Court of Henry the Third. The story is left out accordingly.

No feature in the legendary history of Eadward fills a more prominent position in hagiography, none has won him more admiration from hagiographers, than the terms on which he is said to have lived with his wife. It is certain that, at a time when it was especially needful to provide direct heirs to the Crown, the marriage of Eadward and Eadgyth was childless. Eadward’s monastic admirers attribute this fact to the resolution of Eadward, shared, according to some writers, by Eadgyth also, to devote himself to a life of perpetual virginity. When we come to examine the evidence, we shall find that this is one of those cases in which each later writer knows more than the writers before him. The earliest statements which have any bearing on the subject, though consistent with the monastic theory, do not necessarily imply it, and there are indications which look the other way. The tale grows as it is handed down from one panegyrist to another, in a way which naturally awakens suspicion. And when we consider the portrait of Eadward which is given us, his personal appearance, his personal temperament, and most of his tastes, we shall perhaps be led to guess that the unfruitfulness of Eadward’s marriage was owing neither to any religious impediment nor yet to barrenness on the part of a daughter of Godwine. The story is probably due to a very natural process. The fact of Eadgyth’s childlessness was explained by her husband’s admirers in the way which, to their monastic imaginations, seemed most honourable to him, and details of course grew in the usual fashion.

Let us now look through the evidence.

Florence and the prose text of the Chronicles are silent on the subject. The poem in the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles says that Eadward was

531“Kyningc cystum gód,

Clæne and milde,

Eadward se æðela.”

But surely this is no more than might be said of any man who was chaste before marriage and faithful to his wife afterwards. The Biographer has several passages which may be thought to bear on the subject. He says (428) that Eadward “consecrationis dignitatem sanctam conservans castimoniâ, omnem vitam agebat Deo dicatam in verâ innocentiâ.” This again need not mean anything more than the words of the poem. In the account of Bishop Brihtwold’s vision (394), Saint Peter is seen to crown Eadward and “cœlibem ei vitam designare.” One might say that this is vision and not history, but the vision would of course be devised so as to fit in with what was held to be the history. But, strange as it may seem, the word cœlebs, as used by the Biographer, does not imply either virginity or single life. He uses it (409. See above, P. 383) to express the conjugal fidelity of Tostig, who was undoubtedly the father of children. Elsewhere (p. 429) Eadward is called “columbinæ puritatis Rex,” a phrase which may mean anything, but in the passage in which it occurs there is no special mention of chastity. Lastly, Eadward (433) on his death-bed is made to say of Eadgyth, “Obsequuta est mihi devotè, et lateri meo semper propiùs adstitit in loco carissimæ filiæ.” But this is surely no more than might be said by any maundering old man of a wife much younger than himself. In none of these passages is there any direct assertion of any vow or of any practice of virginity on the part of Eadward. His chastity is undoubtedly praised. But the language in which it is praised does not necessarily imply anything more than might be said with equal truth of any faithful husband. If the Biographer had any idea of the religious virginity of his hero and heroine, he would surely have expressed himself more distinctly. He would hardly have called Eadgyth “tori ejus consocia” (418), without some sort of qualification. If any one should say that the Biographer’s work is dedicated to Eadgyth herself, and that he would not enlarge to her on such a subject, he is looking at the matter with the feelings of our own age. The age of Eadward felt quite differently on such points. The panegyrists of Queens like Pulcheria and Æthelthryth took care that the light of those saintly ladies should in no case be bidden under a bushel. On the whole, I am inclined to think that 532the expressions of the Biographer, looked at critically, rather tell against the monastic theory. But such ambiguous expressions may well contain the germ of the legend.

One or two other points may be mentioned. Eadward is said (see above, p. 524) to have made an agreement with Swend Estrithson, by which the Danish prince was to succeed to the English Crown, “vel si filios susceperit.” Such an agreement, or even any general belief in the existence of such an agreement, is inconsistent with such a vow on Eadward’s part as the monastic writers pretend. William of Malmesbury again (ii. 228), in an unguarded moment, when he is discussing the policy of the King and not the merits of the saint, says that Eadward sent for the Ætheling from Hungary, “quod ipse non susceperat liberos.” And Eadward himself, if it be Eadward who speaks in the Westminster charters, gives as his reason for not going in person to Rome, that the royal race would be jeoparded in his person, “maxime quod nullum habebam filium” (Cod. Dipl. iv. 174). Such language would hardly be used if the possibility of children had been cut off by any religious vow, formally made and generally known. Again, if Eadward had been known to be under such a vow, it is much less clear why Godwine should be anxious for the marriage of Eadward and Eadgyth. The sacrifice of his daughter would be much less intelligible, if there was no chance of its being rewarded by the succession of a grandson of Godwine to the Crown.

We will now look to the accounts which tell the other way. As might be expected, the earlier statements are very much less full and positive than the later. As long as Eadward, however deeply reverenced, was still not a canonized saint, the subject was one which might be discussed, and different opinions might be put forth about it. After the canonization, the slightest doubt would of course have passed for blasphemy.

Thus William of Jumièges (vii. 9) asserts the fact, but somewhat doubtfully; “Ut inter eos [Eadward and Godwine] firmus amor jugiter maneret, Editham filiam ejus uxorem nomine tenus duxit. Nam reverà, ut dicunt, ambo perpetuam virginitatem conservaverunt.” William of Malmesbury, who, as we have seen, elsewhere forgets the story altogether, also asserts the fact, but he is in doubt as to the motive, and he seems certainly to know of no vow on the part of Eadgyth. He most likely had the words of the Biographer, “tori 533ejus consocia,” before him when he wrote (ii. 197); “Nuptam sibi Rex hâc arte tractabat, ut nec toro amoveret nec virili more cognosceret; quod an familiæ illius odio, quod prudenter dissimulabat pro tempore, an amore castitatis fecerit, compertum non habeo. Illud celeberrimè fertur, numquam illum cujusquam mulieris contubernio pudicitiam læsisse.” His account of Eadgyth is singular. She was suspected of unchastity, both during Eadward’s lifetime and after his death; but on her death-bed she cleared herself by a solemn and voluntary oath, seemingly without calling in the help of compurgators. Wace again, in the Roman de Rou (9883), gives the report, but does not seem very certain or emphatic about it;

“Feme prist la fille Gwine,

Edif out nom, bele meschine,

Maiz entrels n’orent nul enfant;

E ço alouent la gent disant,

Ke charnelment od li ne jut,

Ne charnelment ne la conut:

Mais unkes hom ne l’aparçut,

Ne mal talent entrels ne fut.”

Wace, as Prevost remarks in his note, seems hardly to have known of Eadgyth’s disgrace, if not divorce, in 1051. The Hyde writer again, who, whoever he was and whenever he wrote, often preserved independent traditions, and who clearly exercised a sort of judgement of his own, knows the tale only as a report (288); “Fertur tamen Regem Edwardum numquam cum eâdem carnis habuisse consortium, sed mundissimæ vitæ semper dilexisse cœlibatum.”

Here we get the story in its second stage. Eadward’s reputation for sanctity is advancing: the fact of Eadgyth’s childlessness, and the ambiguous expressions of the contemporary writers, are now commonly interpreted in a particular way. Still this interpretation has not yet become an article of faith. For the fully developed legend, setting forth the saint in all his glory, we must go to Æthelred of Rievaux and his followers. They of course know everything, down to the minutest details of everybody’s thoughts and prayers. The story will be found in Æthelred (X Scriptt. 377, 378), and it is versified at great length in the French Life (p. 55 et seqq.). As soon as Eadward is established on the throne, his Witan, anxious about the succession, urge him to marry. The vow seems to be assumed. On the mention of marriage, Eadward is in a great strait; he is afraid to refuse; at the same time he is anxious not 534to violate his chastity. His prayers and meditations are given at great length, including much talk about the not exactly apposite examples of Joseph and Susanna. At last the difficulty is escaped by his marrying the daughter of Godwine, of whose piety as well as beauty a wonderful description is given. There is of course not a word about the suspicions spoken of by William of Malmesbury, any more than there is about the murder of Gospatric. Eadgyth happily chances to be of the same peculiar turn as Eadward himself; so they exactly suit one another. They marry; but they agree to live, and do live, in great mutual affection, but only as brother and sister. A new scriptural allusion happily presents itself, and Eadgyth is promoted to the rank of a “nova Abisac.” The unlucky expression of the Biographer about “locus carissimæ filiæ” is of course seized up and amplified. Eadward, on his death-bed, addresses Eadgyth as “filia mea” (X Scriptt. 402). The Biographer (433) had made Eadward commend Eadgyth to the care of her brother Harold, “ut pro dominâ [hlæfdige] et sorore, ut est, fideli serves et honores obsequio.” Æthelred either misunderstood the passage, or else flew off at the word “soror.” He tells us (402), “Reginam deinde fratri proceribusque commendans, ejus plurimùm laudabat obsequium, et pudicitiam prædicabat, quæ se quidem uxorem gerebat in publico, sed sororem vel filiam in occulto.”

It will be remembered that William of Jumièges, Wace, and the Hyde writer, mention the story only as a report; William of Malmesbury seems to accept the fact as undoubted, and is uncertain only as to the motive. According to Æthelred (378), the public mind in Eadward’s own time was in the same state as the mind of William of Malmesbury a generation or two later. No one doubted the fact; “Ne aliquis huic Regis virtuti fidem deroget, sciat hoc tempore illius per totam Angliam sic divulgatum et creditum, ut de facto certi plerique de intentione certarent.” People who—like William of Malmesbury—failed to rise to the full appreciation of Eadward’s saintship, thought it might be because Eadward was unwilling to raise up grandsons to the traitor Godwine. Such rationalizing doubts are indignantly dismissed; “Quidam nihil nisi carnem et sanguinem sapientes, simplicitati regiæ [a clear hit at William] hoc imponebat, quod compulsus generi se miscuerit proditorum, et ne proditores procrearet, operi supersederet conjugali. 535Sed si consideretur amor quo se complectebantur, facilè contemnitur talis opinio. Hoc idcirco inserendum putavi, ut sciatur neminem tunc de Regis continentiâ dubitâsse, quum de caussâ taliter disputaverint.” So it is that men get better informed, the further removed they are from personal knowledge of the events.

Having reached the perfect story in Æthelred, it is needless to carry on the examination any further. I will only add that some specially eloquent talk on the subject will be found in the Ramsey History, cap. cxx. (p. 461), and that in Æthelred (377) we first find the line which has become more famous through the false Ingulf, “Sicut spina rosam genuit Godwinus Edivam.”

NOTE C. p. 29. Eadward’s Fondness for Foreign Churchmen.

I may here quote a curious story about the relations between Eadward and Eadgyth and a foreign Abbot, which I cannot do better than give in the original Latin. The hero of the tale was Abbot of the famous monastery of Saint Riquier in Picardy. The church is a splendid one, but of late date; not far off is the municipal beffroi, to which the inhabitants still point with pride as the memorial of struggles waged with, and victories gained over, their ecclesiastical lords.

“Regi Anglorum Hetguardo Gervinus semper carus et venerabilis fuit, et ab illo, si ejus fines intrâsset, mirâ honorificentia attollebatur. Quique Rex, si eum in aliquâ vel pro aliquâ loci nostri necessitate angustiari comperisset, munificus valdè in succurrendo, remotâ omni excusatione, exsistebat. Regina etiam conjux ejusdem, nomine Edith, satis superque Gervinum pro suæ merito sanctitatis diligebat et venerabatur, et juxta mariti exemplum admodùm liberalis, si aliqua petiisset, libens conferebat. Quâdam vero vice accidit ut Abbati nuperrimè terram illam ingresso osculum salutationis et pacis Regina porrigeret, quod ille gratiâ conservandæ sinceritatis abhorrens excipere noluit. At illa ferox, videns se Reginam spretam à monacho, nimis molestè tulit, et quædam quæ, ut pro se orâsset, illi donare statuerat, irata retraxit. Verûm, marito id ipsum increpante, quod Abbatem tam religiosum pro non infracto 536rigore odio insequi voluisset, et aliis honestis viris suggerentibus non esse odiendum hominem qui sic Deo se mancipâsset, ut ne Reginæ quidem osculo se pateretur contra ordinem mulceri, placata est Regina, et hujusmodi factum non solum in illo non vituperavit, sed magnæ laudis attollens præconio, in sui regni Episcopis vel Abbatibus talem manere consuetudinem deinceps conquesta est. Multis ergo honoribus et donis eum fulciens remittebat onustum, hoc solum ab eo reposcens ut tempore orationis inter benefactores computari mereretur. Uxor etiam ipsius Regis donavit ei amictum valdè pretiosum, auro et lapide pretioso mirificè decoratum, quem Abbas detulit in nostræ ecclesiæ thesaurum.” Chron. Centulense, iv. 22. ap. D’Achery, ii. 345.

This story is referred to, but inaccurately, in Mr. Thorpe’s Lappenberg, ii. 244. There is no mention of it in the original, p. 504.

Saint Riquier however does not appear to have held lands in England in Eadward’s time, but this was not the last begging expedition of Gervinus to our shores. On the gifts of Eadward and Eadgyth to Saint Denis, Fécamp, and other monasteries, see Ellis, i. 304, 307, 324. Cod. Dipl. iv. 229. cf. 251.

Another reference to Eadward’s lavishness in this way is found in the Chronicle of Saint Wandrille in the same volume of D’Achery (ii. 286); “Uxorem quoque filiam Hotuvini [sic] magni illius terræ principis, qui fratrem suum Alureth jampridem cum multis crudeliter atque dolo peremerat, accepit, eosque quos secum de Nortmannis duxerat utriusque ordinis amplis honoribus extulit, auro et argento ditavit.”

NOTE D. p. 31. English and Norman Estimates of Godwine and Harold.

There is a remarkable passage of William of Malmesbury, in which, as his manner often is, he sets before his readers two different accounts or opinions of the same thing. He there contrasts the Norman and English accounts of Godwine and his sons, in words which seem, like several other passages, to show that he had the contemporary Biographer before him. His words (ii. 197) are;

“Hunc [Archbishop Robert] cum reliquis Angli moderni vituperant delatorem Godwini et filiorum ejus, hunc discordiæ seminatorem, 537hunc archiepiscopii emptorem; Godwinum et natos magnanimos viros, et industrios auctores et tutores regni Edwardi; non mirum si succensuerint quod novos homines et advenas sibi præferri viderent; numquam tamen contra Regem, quem semel fastigaverint, asperum etiam verbum loquutos. Contra, Normanni sic se defensitant, ut dicant et cum et filios magnâ arrogantiâ et infidelitate in Regem et in familiares ejus egisse, æquas sibi partes in imperio vindicantes; sæpe de ejus simplicitate solitos nugari, sæpe insignes facetias in illum jaculari: id Normannos perpeti nequivisse, quin illorum potentiam quantùm possent enervarent.”

In this passage William very fairly carries out his promise of letting each side tell its own story. Which of the two pictures is borne out by particular facts, we shall see at the proper stages of the history; it may not be amiss to collect here a few of the more general pictures of Godwine and Harold drawn according to the two models. In the case of Harold, I confine myself to those passages, whether panegyrics or invectives, which concern his general character and his administration as Earl. Those which concern either his relations to William or his character as King I reserve for notice at a later stage.

Of Godwine personally none of the Chronicles give any formal character, but the Worcester Chronicler (1052) gives a picture of the power of himself and house, setting forth their influence as strongly as any of the Norman writers, but with an exactly opposite colouring. “Forðam þe he [Godwine] wæs ær to þam swyðe up ahafen, swyce he weolde þæs Cynges and ealles Englalandes, and his sunan wæron Eorlas and þæs Cynges dyrlingas, and his dohtor þæm Cynge bewedden and beæwnod.” Of Harold both the Abingdon and the Worcester Chroniclers give a panegyric in the poem on Eadward which they insert in the year 1065. He is there, as if in direct answer to the Norman account, warmly praised for his strict loyalty to the King.

“And se froda swa þeah

Befæste þæt rice

Heahþungenum menn

Harolde sylfum

Æþelum Eorle;

Se in ealle tid

Hyrde holdlice

Hærran sinum,

Wordum and dædum,

Wihte ne agælde

Þæs þe þearf wæs

Þæs þeodkyninges.”

Florence gives no character of Godwine; of Harold—“strenuus 538Dux Haroldus”—he always speaks with evident affection, but his formal panegyric, and a magnificent one it is, he keeps back till Harold’s election to the Crown.

The Biographer’s description of Godwine I have had occasion to refer to at vol. i. 450. Of Harold he gives a most elaborate portrait, of which I have made great use in the text. I spare the reader this writer’s poetical panegyrics, except when they illustrate some special point: but I will quote one or two passages which compare the father and the son in a general sort of way. Godwine, he tells us, on his appointment as Earl of the West-Saxons (see vol. i. p. 469),

“Adeptus tanti honoris primatum non se extulit, sed omnibus bonis se pro posse patrem præbuit: quia quam à puero addidicerat mentis mansuetudinem non exuit; verùm hanc, ut naturaliter sibi indita, erga subditos et inter pares æternâ assiduitate excoluit. Undecumque emergerent injuriæ, in hoc jus et lex imprompta recuperabatur. Unde non pro domino habebatur, sed à cunctis patriæ filiis pro patre colebatur. Nati sunt ergo filii et filiæ tanto patri non degeneres, sed paternâ et maternâ probitate insignes, in quibus nutriendis studiosiùs his artibus agitur, quibus futuro regno munimen pariter et juvamen in his paratur.” (392, 393.)

So, in p. 408, on describing the death of Godwine and the accession of Harold to his Earldom, he says;

“Haroldus ... amicus gentis suæ et patriæ vices celebrat patris intentiùs, et ejusdem gressibus incedit, patientiâ scilicet et misericordiâ, et affabilitate cum benè volentibus. Porrò inquietatis, furibus, sive prædonibus, leonino terrore et vultu minabatur gladiator justus.”

The Waltham winters are of course Harold’s sworn panegyrists; their testimony must therefore be taken with caution, though certainly not with more caution than the testimony of Harold’s calumniators, the sworn panegyrists of William. I forbear to enlarge on the “Vita Haroldi,” where the hero of the piece figures as “vir venerabilis,” “vir Dei,” and so forth. These epithets of course refer far more to Harold’s imaginary penance and seclusion as a hermit than they do to his real merits as Earl and as King. I will quote this romantic writer only for one passage, in which he is plunged into difficulties by the calumnious accounts of Godwine and his family, which in his time were generally received. Godwine, 539according to him, began to practise deceit only as far as was needful for his own safety in troublous times; corrupted by this dangerous familiarity with crime, he gradually grew into actual treason. But admiration of Harold, combined with at least partial censure of Godwine, is not peculiar to this romancer. It is the position of the Abingdon Chronicler.

The account of Godwine given by Harold’s biographer runs thus;

“Constat ipsius [Haroldi] genitorem vel cæterorum quosdam de illius genere, tantum proditionis, tantum et aliorum notâ facinorum infamatos gravitèr fuisse. His vero malis, necessitate cavendi imminentis exitii, Godwinus se primò immiscuit, deinde ulteriùs evagatur. Tuendæ siquidem salutis obtentu dolum tentare compulsus, dum semel cedit ad votum, fraudibus in posterum minuendæ felicitatis intuitu licentiùs nitebatur.” (Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, ii. 152.)

He then tells the story, which I have mentioned in vol. i. p. 467, about the way in which Godwine obtained Gytha in marriage. He then goes on;

“Quo tamen eventu Godwinus in Dacorum plusquam satis favorem effusus, gentis suæ quampluribus fiebat infestus; nonnullos quoque de semine regio, quorum unus frater sancti Edwardi fuit, dolo perdidit; sicque non modò in concives, immo et in dominos naturales [cyne-hlafordas] non pauca deliquit” (154).

He then winds up by rebuking those who turned the crimes of Godwine to the discredit of Harold. Harold here, not Eadgyth, is the rose sprung from the thorn; “Sic rutilos producit, sic niveos quasi nutrit rosarum liliorumque spina flores” (155).

This writer’s notion of Godwine favouring the Danes against the English is found also in the Roman de Rou (9809). He is telling the story of Ælfred (see vol. i. p. 544);

“Cuntre li vint Quens Gwine,

Ki mult esteit de pute orine;

Feme out de Danemarche née,

De Daneiz bien emparentée,

Filz out Héraut, Guert, è Tosti.

Pur li enfez ke jo vus di,

Ki de Daneiz esteient né,

E de Daneiz erent amé,

Ama Gwine li Daneiz

Mult mielx k’il ne fist li Engleiz.

Oez cum fu fete déablie,

Grant traïsun, grant félunie:

Traistre fu, traïsun fist,

Ki en la lei Judas se mist.”

To return to the Waltham writers, the witness of the writer “De Inventione” is worth infinitely more than that of Harold’s 540biographer. The affectionate tribute which he pays to Harold is clearly something more than mere conventional panegyric on a founder. Harold was chosen King, “quia non erat eo prudentior in terrâ, armis strenuus magis, legum terræ sagacior, in omni genere probitatis cultior” (p. 25 Stubbs). At his death (27) the lament is, “Cadit Rex ab hoste fero, gloria regni, decus cleri, fortitudo militiæ, inermium clipeus, certantium firmitas, tutamen debilium, consolatio desolatorum, indigentium reparator, procerum gemma.”

Such were the great father and son as they seemed in the eyes of Englishmen of their own times and in the eyes of those who in after times cherished purely English traditions. Let us see how they appeared to the Norman writers of their own day, and to those who follow that Norman tradition which permanently triumphed. It would be easy to prolong the list indefinitely, but I think it needless to refer to any but writers of the eleventh and twelfth centuries. On the whole, they are more fierce against Godwine than against Harold. They allow Godwine hardly any excellence beyond mere power of speech, while several of them are quite ready to do justice to Harold’s great qualities in other respects, even while they condemn his supposed perjury and usurpation. The first however, and, in some respects, the most important, William of Poitiers, the immediate follower and laureate of the Conqueror, has not the slightest mercy for either father or son. He stops twice in the course of his history to apostrophize, first Godwine (p. 79 Giles) and then Harold (p. 111), in terms of virulent abuse, the declamation in the latter case being brought in with the formula, “Paucis igitur de affabimur, Heralde.” But these addresses contain nothing but the old stories about the death of Ælfred and the oath to William. Elsewhere (126) the Lexovian Archdeacon gives his general character of Harold, describing him as “luxuriâ fœdum, truculentum homicidam, divite rapinâ superbum, adversarium æqui et boni.” “Truculentus homicida,” as appears from the context, means “victor at Stamfordbridge;” “luxuriâ fœdus” may possibly mean “lover of Eadgyth Swanneshals.”

William of Jumièges writes of Godwine in the same strain as William of Poitiers. Harold is of course usurper, perjurer, and so forth, but there is no such set abuse of him as we find in the Gesta Guillelmi. Of Godwine he writes (vii. 9);

541“Ferox dolique commentor Godvinus eo tempore Comes in Angliâ potentissimus erat, et magnam regni Anglorum partem fortiter tenebat, quam ex parentum nobilitate [a contrast to the description in Wace] seu vi vel fraudulentiâ vendicaverat. Edwardus itaque metuens tanti viri potentiâ lædi dolove solito, Normannorum consultu, quorum fido vigebat solatio, indignam Aluredi fratris sui perniciem ei benignitèr indulsit.”

Other writers on the same side are more generous, at any rate towards Harold. Orderic, as usual, fluctuates between his two characters of born Englishman and Norman monk. In his Norman monastery he had been taught that Harold was a wicked usurper, and he speaks of him accordingly. But natural admiration for an illustrious countryman makes him, once at least, burst his trammels, and he ventures to say (492 B); “Erat idem Anglus magnitudine et elegantiâ, viribusque corporis animique audaciâ, et linguæ facundiâ, multisque facetiisque et probitatibus admirabilis.” One can almost forgive him when he adds, “Sed quid ei tanta dona sine fide, quæ bonorum omnium fundamentum est, contulerunt?”

In the like spirit Benoît de Sainte-More, though denouncing Harold (Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, i. 174) as “Parjur, faus, pleins de coveitise,” yet elsewhere (i. 193) gives him this generous tribute;

“Proz ert Heraut e vertuos,

E empernanz e corajos.

N’estoveit pas en nule terre

Sos ciel meillor chevaler querre.

Beaus estait trop e bons parlers,

Donierre e larges viandiers.”

The series of English writers under Norman influence may be said to begin with Henry of Huntingdon. It is strange that one who has preserved so much of old English tradition should be so absolutely without English feeling in the great controversy of all. We have already (vol. i. p. 543) seen some specimens of his way of dealing with Godwine. As for Harold, he tells the legend of his quarrel with Tostig, of which I shall speak elsewhere, and goes on (M. H. B. 761 B); “Tantæ namque sævitiæ fratres illi erant, quod quum alicujus nitidam villam conspicerent, dominatorem de nocte interfici juberent totamque progeniem illius, possessionemque defuncti obtinerent; et isti quidem justitiarii erant regni.” This is somewhat expanded by Roger of Wendover—to quote an author rather later than the limit which I had laid down. All the sons of 542Godwine, Wulfnoth perhaps included, were partakers in these evil deeds (“Tantæ namque iniquitatis omnes filii Godwini proditoris erant.” i. 508), and Henry’s last clause is expanded into, “qui tamen, super tot flagitia, Regis simplicitatem ita circumvenerunt, quod ipsos regni justitiarios constituerit et rectores.” What was the exact notion of “justitiarii” in the minds of Henry and Roger?

Eadward’s own special panegyrist, Æthelred of Rievaux, is hardly so bitter against Harold as might have been looked for. Of course he speaks of his accession in the usual fashion, and he tells the legend of his enmity with Tostig. Of Godwine he gives (X Scriptt. 377) the following picture, which is at least valuable as witnessing to the still abiding memory of Godwine’s power of speech;

“Erat inter potentes Angliæ omnium potentissimus Comes Godwinus, vir magnarum opum sed astutiæ singularis, Regum regnique proditor, qui, doctus fallere et quælibet dissimulare consuetus, facilè populum ad cujuslibet factionis inclinabat assensum.”

I will now turn to two or three writers who are neither English nor Norman. The biographer of Olaf Tryggwesson seems to stand alone in wishing to make a saint of Harold (“Haraldur Gudina son, er sumir kalla helgan vera.” p. 263). This is remarkable, for, though he mentions, as we shall hereafter see, the tale that Harold was not killed on the field at Senlac, he seems to know nothing of his penitence and hermit life. But other Scandinavian and German writers seem quite to take the Norman view of things. Thus Adam of Bremen (iii. 13) says of the sons of Godwine, “Tenuerunt Angliam in ditione suâ, Eduardo tantùm vitâ et inani Regis nomine contento.” So also his Scholiast, “Harold ... ipsum cognatum et dominum suum, Regem Eduardum pro nihilo habuit.” Elsewhere (iii. 51) he calls Harold “vir maleficus.” Saxo, of whose ideas I have already given some specimens (see vol. i. p. 592), is more violent against Harold than any one else. Having told his wonderful tale about the slaughter of the Danes after the death of Harthacnut, he goes on (p. 203);

“Igitur Haraldus, Danicæ oppressionis simulque domesticæ libertatis auctor, Edvardo summam, factâ non animi ejus sed sanguinis æstimatione, permittit, quatenus ille nominis, ipse rerum usurpatione regnaret, et quo nobilitate pervenire non posset, potentiâ 543vallatus assurgeret. Edvardus vero, solâ generis auctoritate non prudentiæ ratione munitus, vano majestatis obtentu pravorum ingenia majorumque petulantiam nutriebat, titulo Rex patriæ, conditione miserabilis procerum verna, contentus quod alii fructum, ipse umbram tantùm ac speciem occupâsset. Ità Anglorum inter se summam nomen atque potentiam diviserunt, titulique jus ac rerum dominium veluti diversis ab invicem gradibus differebant.” He then goes on with his wild tale, which I have had occasion to mention already (see p. 413), about Harold killing Eadward. Elsewhere (p. 207) he uses the words “Haraldus, cui scelera Mali cognomen adjecerant,” in which it is not very clear whether he means our Harold or Harold Hardrada.

Snorro gives no portrait of Harold, and his genealogy, as we shall see, is utterly confused. But he gives a picture of Harold’s relations to Eadward which is at least widely different from that of Saxo. He makes him the King’s favourite and foster son (“Hann fæddiz upp í hird, Játvardar Konungs, oc var hans fóstr son, oc unni Konungr honöm geysi mikit, oc hafdi hann fyrir son ser; þvíat Konúngrinn átti eigi barn.” Johnstone, 189. Laing, iii. 75).

I leave it to the reader to judge which description, either of father or son, is better borne out by the facts of the history. I will only add that, in this case also, calumny, as usual, preserves a certain propriety. Godwine was a crafty, and not always scrupulous, statesman; Harold was a hero. The calumnies levelled at each are such as would naturally be levelled at a crafty statesman and a hero respectively.

NOTE E. p. 32. The Alleged Spoliations of the Church by Godwine and Harold.

The charge of sacrilege, of spoliation of churches and monasteries, is one which Godwine and Harold share with almost every powerful man of those times. William of Malmesbury speaks of it as a characteristic of the reign of Eadward; only he adds that the King’s panegyrists attributed this, along with the other evils of the 544time, to Godwine and his sons. According to them, it was for these crimes of one sort or another that Eadward banished the whole family. The whole passage (ii. 196) is curious;

“Fuerunt tamen nonnulla quæ gloriam temporum deturpârunt; monasteria tunc monachis viduata; prava judicia à perversis hominibus commissa.... Sed harum rerum invidiam amatores ipsius ità extenuare conantur; monasteriorum destructio, perversitas judiciorum, non ejus scientiâ, sed per Godwini filiorumque ejus sunt commissa violentiam, qui Regis ridebant indulgentiam; postea tamen ad eum delata, acritèr illorum exsilio vindicata.”

This is of course Norman talk, and we know very well what to think of the “perversitas judiciorum.” But for the charge of destruction of monasteries there is undoubtedly a groundwork of fact, and it will be worth while to go through the evidence on which Godwine and his sons are charged with this and other acts of sacrilege. On this evidence I have two general comments to make.

First, In estimating charges of this sort we must remember that we commonly hear one side only. The works of Ealdorman Æthelweard and Count Fulk form so small a portion of our authorities that we may say that the whole history of these times was written exclusively by churchmen. And those churchmen were far more commonly monks than seculars. The monks of course tell the story their own way, and we do not often get the layman’s answer. A legal claim against a monastery or other ecclesiastical body runs a very fair chance of being represented as a fraudulent or violent occupation. And Domesday is hardly an impartial witness for a charge against Harold. If he acquired lands by as good a title as he acquired the Crown, the Norman writers would, if they had the least excuse, speak of their acquisition in the same way in which they speak of his acquisition of the Crown.

Secondly, It was a very common thing for the reeves or other officers of powerful men to deal very freely with both monastic and other lands that came in their way. This they sometimes did without the knowledge of their masters. Thus Heming, in the Worcester Cartulary (p. 391), reckons three classes of “maligni homines” who unjustly deprived the Church of Worcester of its possessions. First come the “Dani hanc patriam invadentes;” secondly, after them (“postea”), are the “injusti præpositi et regii exactores;” lastly, in his own day (“istis temporibus”) come the 545“violenti Normanni.” Sir Henry Ellis (ii. 142) has collected a number of instances of spoliation by underlings, of one of which, the story about Christ Church and Harold Harefoot, I have already spoken (see vol. i. p. 562). Some of these I shall have to mention again.

Now we shall come across distinct evidence that some of the charges against Godwine and Harold come under one or other of these heads. And in estimating other charges of the kind against Godwine, Harold, or anybody else, we should always bear in mind that we are hearing one side only, and that it is quite probable that an equally good defence might be forthcoming. The charge of sacrilege is brought against Godwine in the one English Chronicle which may be called in some degree hostile to him. The Abingdon Chronicle (1052) recording his death, adds, “Ac he dyde ealles to lytle dædbote of þære Godes are þe he hæfde of manegum halgum stowum.” But even this must be read with the same qualification.

The general picture of destruction of monasteries mentioned by William of Malmesbury sounds strange at a time when so many monasteries were being founded and endowed and their churches being rebuilt. I conceive that it rests mainly on two remarkable cases, those of the Abbeys of Berkeley and Leominster, which seem to have got confounded together in legendary history. I trust that I have shown elsewhere that Leominster Abbey was dissolved after the affair of Swegen and Eadgifu in 1046 (see above, p. 89). I conceive it to be a legendary version of this story when Walter Map (De Nugis Curialium, p. 201, ed. Wright) tells a tale of the destruction of Berkeley nunnery, how Godwine sets a handsome nephew to seduce the nuns, how he then complains to the King of their misconduct, how he procures the dissolution of the house and the grant of its possessions to himself. It is certain that there was a real suppression of a monastery at Berkeley, and that Godwine profited by it in some way or other. As in Domesday we find Leominster in the hands of the Lady Eadgyth, with only a most incidental mention of the nuns, so we find Berkeley (163) in the hands of the King, without any mention of monks or nuns, or of Godwine either. But that there had been a monastery at Berkeley appears from a variety 546of evidence. See Cod. Dipl. i. 276. ii. 111. Flor. Wig. 805, 915, in the former of which years we find an Abbess, Ceolburh by name, presiding over the house, while in the latter it was governed by an Abbot, Æthelhun. But, as Professor Stubbs has shown in the Archæological Journal, vol. xix. (1862), p. 248, the existence of an Abbess does not necessarily imply the presence of nuns, as many monasteries seem to have had either Abbots or Abbesses, as suited family convenience. There is also mention of nuns at Berkeley at a time later than Godwine, in a charter of Adeliza, Queen of Henry the First (Monasticon, iv. 42, and vi. 1618), and in the Pipe Roll of 31 Hen. I. (ed. Hunter, p. 133; “investitura iii. monialium, lx.s.” For this last reference I have to thank Professor Stubbs). By the Charter of Adeliza the Church of Berkeley, with the “Prebends of two nuns,” was granted to the new Abbey of Reading, by which the church was afterwards transferred to Saint Augustine’s at Bristol (Smyth’s Lives of the Berkeleys, p. 49). But the whole account of these later nuns of Berkeley is very obscure, and whatever they were, they must have been a revival of the old foundation later than the time of Godwine. For the destruction of the monastery at Berkeley, and Godwine’s share in it, are undoubted facts, though we are left without any explanation as to their causes. A most remarkable entry in Domesday (164) tells us that, when Godwine was at Berkeley, his wife Gytha refused to eat anything which came out of that lordship, because of a pious scruple arising out of the destruction of the Abbey. Godwine therefore bought of Azor, a man of whom we often hear, the lordship of Woodchester (a place near Stroud, noted for its Roman remains), for her maintenance when in Gloucestershire (“Gueda mater Heraldi Comitis tenuit Udecestre. Godwinus Comes emit ab Azor, et dedit suæ uxori, ut inde viveret, donec ad Berchelai maneret. Nolebat enim de ipso manerio aliquid comedere, propter destructionem Abbatiæ.” We have no further account, except the evidently mythical tale told by Walter Map. It is by no means clear whether there were or were not any nuns at Berkeley in Godwine’s time, and probably no one would accept Walter Map’s tale as it stands. But that tale may very likely be a romantic improvement of the story of Swegen and Eadgifu, transferred from Leominster to Berkeley. Both Leominster and Berkeley were monasteries suppressed in the reign of Eadward. Godwine or his 547family were concerned in, or profited by, the suppression of both. Both were restored, in one shape or another, in later ways; both became connected with the Abbey of Reading. To substitute one name for the other was one of the most obvious of confusions. The details of the story of course grew, like the details of other stories. Berkeley Abbey, at all events, was suppressed, and Godwine had a power of disposing of its revenues. Here then we have one clear case in which Godwine was concerned in the destruction of a monastery. We do not know whether he had any justification to offer for his conduct, but we know that it was not approved by his own wife.

It appears also that Godwine was charged by the Norman Archbishop Robert with converting some lands belonging to the see of Canterbury to his own use. Here however we for once get the Godwinist version. The lands of the Earl and the Archbishop joined, and there was a dispute about boundaries. We cannot, at this distance of time, say in whose favour a jury would have decided; but it is plain that Robert claimed lands of which Godwine was in actual possession, and that Godwine’s friends looked upon the Archbishop and not the Earl as the intruder. This is a very important case, from our having the tale told from the side of the layman. It is a case which by itself would be enough to make us always weigh the possibility that there may have been another side to many other cases in which we get only the churchman’s statement. It is impossible for us now to tell on whose side the legal right lay in the dispute between Godwine and Robert; but there is every appearance that it was simply a question for a legal tribunal, one in which each side may well have urged its claims in good faith. The story, as told by the Biographer of Eadward (p. 400), runs as follows;

“Accedebat autem ad exercendos odiorum motus pro Episcopo in caussam justam quod terræ quædam Ducis contiguæ erant quibusdam terris quæ ad Christi attinebant Ecclesiam [that is, Christ Church, Canterbury]. Crebræ quoque erant inter eos controversiæ, quod eum dicebat terras archiepiscopatûs sui invasisse, et in injuriâ suâ usibus suis eas tenere. Ferebat autem idem industrius Dux incautiùs furentem Episcopum pacificè.... Coquebat tamen vehementiùs quosdam suorum illa Ducis injuria, et nisi ejus obstiterit prohibitio, gravi Episcopum persæpe multâssent contumeliâ.”

In this last clause we seem to see the over-zealous officers, of 548whom we hear in other stories, and whom Godwine so characteristically keeps in order.

These are, as far as I know, the only particular cases in which it is possible to test the value of the general remark made by the Abingdon Chronicler as to Godwine’s occupations of Church property. In the case of Berkeley we can say absolutely nothing either way, except so far as Gytha’s scruple may be held to tell against her husband. In the Kentish case Godwine may well have had a perfectly good defence. The charges against Harold are more numerous. They rest mainly on certain entries in Domesday, which have been carefully collected by Sir Henry Ellis (i. 313). Harold is there said to have taken, or to have held unjustly, various pieces of ecclesiastical property, and in most cases it is carefully noted that William caused them to be restored by some legal process. Thus, in Sussex (21 b) we find a virgate of land at Apedroc which Harold “habuit et abstulit à Sancto Johanne.” This seems not to have been restored; it had become a chief dwelling-place of William’s half-brother Earl Robert (“ubi Comes habet aulam suam”), and Robert was to be as much preferred to Saint John, as Saint John was to be preferred to Harold. In Wiltshire (69), at Allington, were four hides “quas injustè abstraxit Heraldus ab ecclesiâ Ambresberie testimonio tainorum sciræ.” Three lordships in Dorset (75 b, 78 b) are said to have been taken by Harold (“abstulerat Heraldus Comes”) from Shaftesbury Abbey, and to have been restored by William on the evidence of a charter of Eadward (“Willelmus Rex eam fecit resaisiri, quia in ipsâ ecclesiâ inventus est brevis cum sigillo Regis Eadwardi præcipiens ut ecclesiæ restituerentur”). So in Cornwall (121) an estate is in like manner restored to Saint Petroc’s. One in Hertfordshire (132) helps us to a date; “Heraldus Comes abstulit inde, ut tota syra testatur, et apposuit in Hiz manerio suo, tribus annis ante mortem Regis Eadwardi (1063).” Another entry, in nearly the same words, but without a date, follows in fol. 133. There are two others in which we see the agency of the reeves or other officers. In Dorset (80) we find that “Elnod tenuit T. R. E. per Comitem Heraldum, qui eam abstulit cuidam clerico.” So in Kent (2), “Alnod cild per violentiam Heraldi abstulit Sancto Martino Merclesham et Hauochesten, pro quibus dedit Canonicis iniquam commutationem.” 549This last entry is important. The act, though called “violentia,” was really an exchange, and the spirit of these entries in Domesday is so clear that we can hardly venture to say that it may not have been a fair and legal exchange.

There is also a whole string of entries in Herefordshire (181 b, 182), where it is said, “Hoc manerium tenuit Heraldus Comes injustè. Rex Willelmus reddidit Walterio Episcopo.” These must be taken in connexion with two writs addressed by Eadward to Harold in Herefordshire. One (Cod. Dipl. iv. 218) is addressed to him jointly with Bishop Ealdred, and therefore belongs to the time (1058–1060) when Ealdred administered the see after the death of Leofgar (see above, p. 398). This writ confirms to the Priests of Saint Æthelberht’s minster all their ancient rights, it speaks of them as suffering poverty “for God’s love and mine,” and calls on all men to help them. The other (iv. 194), addressed to Harold together with Osbern (see above, p. 346), announces the appointment of Walter to the Bishoprick (in 1060), and requires the restoration of all property alienated from the see. The earlier description of the poverty of the Canons can hardly fail to refer to losses sustained through the ravages of Ælfgar and Gruffydd in 1055 (see above, pp. 388, 391).

There is also a will of Leofric, Bishop of Exeter (Cod. Dipl. iv. 274), in which that Prelate leaves to his Church the land which Harold had lawlessly taken at Topsham (“ðæt land æt Toppeshamme, ðe áh ðe Harold hit mid unlage útnam”). The Bishop died in 1072, but the land had not then been recovered. Topsham appears in the Exon Domesday (p. 87) as a possession of the Crown formerly held by Harold, without any mention of the rights of the Church of Exeter.

The reader must judge how far any of the qualifications with which I set out can be made to bear on any of these cases. What if the land at Topsham, afterwards the port of Exeter, was needed for the defence of the coast? The Bishop would very likely look on its appropriation for such a purpose, even if it were paid for, as a thing done “mid unlage.”

There remains the great story of the alleged quarrel between Harold and Gisa, Bishop of Wells. Of this we know the details, we can trace the growth of misrepresentation, and it may perhaps 550serve as a key to some of the other stories. Even here we have no statement on Harold’s side, but the original charge against him, as contrasted with its later shapes, pretty well explains itself. The story however is a somewhat long one, and it may moreover fairly count as a part of the general history. I shall therefore keep back its consideration till its proper chronological place in the narrative, when I shall make it the subject of a distinct note. I will now add a few instances which illustrate the general subject by showing that Godwine and Harold by no means stand alone in bearing accusations of this sort. In the case of nearly every powerful man, including the most munificent benefactors to ecclesiastical bodies, we find the same story of the detention of Church property in some shape or other, or of transactions in which it is easy to see the possible groundwork of such a charge.

I mentioned in a former Chapter (i. 289) that the very model of monastic benefactors, Æthelwine the Friend of God, laid claim to, and made good his claim to, certain lands possessed by the Abbey of Ely. As the Ely historian (Hist. El. i. 5) himself tells the story, it is plain that the claim made by the Ealdorman was certainly legal and probably just. Yet the monastic writer clearly thinks that he ought to have given way even to an unjust claim on the part of the Church, and he uses just the same language which Domesday applies to Harold; “postpositâ Sanctæ Ecclesiæ reverentiâ, eamdem terram invadentes sibi vindicârunt.” Soon after (c. 8) we come to a story of the same kind about Æthelwine’s son Ælfwold. Godwine of Lindesey, one of the heroes of Assandun, is spoken of as a pertinacious enemy of the Church of Evesham (see vol. i. p. 568). The story about Harold Harefoot I have mentioned more than once. The passage which I quoted from William of Malmesbury at the beginning of this note also shows that Saint Eadward himself was by some people personally blamed for the destruction of monasteries in his reign. And it is, at any rate, clear that the estates of the dissolved houses of Leominster and Berkeley had become royal property—more legally folkland—just as they would have done in the time of Henry the Eighth. Eadgyth, the rose sprung from the thorn, enjoyed the revenues of Leominster, seemingly without any of the scruples which her mother felt in the case of Berkeley. We find her also (see above, p. 46) engaged in some other transactions about ecclesiastical property, which look at least 551as doubtful as anything attributed to her father and brother. Nay, one writer goes so far as to charge her sainted husband himself with complicity in her doings of this kind. Twice does the Peterborough historian (Hugo Candidus, Sparke, p. 42) say of possessions held or claimed by that monastery, “Rex et Regina Edgita illam villam vi auferre conati sunt.” So one of the charges brought against Tostig, the benefactor of the Church of Durham (see p. 383), was that he had “robbed God” (see p. 481). Siward also, the founder of Galmanho, and his son Waltheof, who, as a monastic hero, ranks by the side of Æthelwine, both stand charged with detaining lands belonging to the Abbey of Peterborough (see above, p. 374). Eadwine, the brother of Leofric, possessed lands claimed by the Church of Worcester, and the local writer Heming (p. 278) evidently looked on his death at Rhyd-y-Groes as the punishment; “Sed ipse diu hâc rapinâ gavisus non est. Nam ipse non multo post a Grifino Rege Brittonum ignominiosâ morte peremptus est.” Nay, Leofric and Godgifu themselves, the models of all perfection, do not seem to have been quite clear on this score. Her reverence for Saint Wulfstan led Godgifu to suggest to her husband the restoration of certain lordships in his possession which had belonged to the Church of Worcester (“Terras quas antea Dani cæterique Dei adversarii vi abstulerant, et ab ipsâ Wigornensi ecclesiâ penitùs alienaverant.” Heming in Ang. Sacr. i. 541). Her son Ælfgar followed her example. There is also in Domesday (283 b) a most curious entry about certain lands at Alveston in Warwickshire. They are inserted among the estates of the Church of Worcester; but it is said of the sons of the former tenant Bricstuinus (Brihtstán?); “Hoc testantur filii ejus Lewinus [Leofwine], Edmar [Eadmer] et alii quatuor, sed nesciunt de quo, an de Ecclesiâ an de Comite Leuric [Leofric], cui serviebat, hanc terram tenuit. Dicunt tamen quod ipsi tenuerunt eam de L. Comite, et quò volebant cum terrâ poterant se vertere.” Here we may discern a case of free commendation, whether to the Church or to the Earl, but here are also ample materials for a charge against Leofric of detaining the lands of the Church of Worcester. Lastly, I may mention cases in which Prelates like Bishop Ælfweard (p. 69) and Archbishop Ealdred (p. 467) stand charged with wrongfully transferring property from one church to another. These last cases, if they can be made out, seem to an impartial eye just as bad as the 552occupation of Church lands by laymen. The breach of law is equal, and when a Prelate, as Ealdred is said to have done, robbed the church which he was leaving in favour of the church of which he was taking possession, the personal greediness is equal. In fact, in all these cases, the real crime lies in the breach of law which is implied in the violent or fraudulent occupation of anything, whether the party wronged be clerk or layman, individual or corporation. We must be on our guard alike against the exaggerated notions about the crime of sacrilege put forth by ecclesiastical writers, and also against the opposite prejudices of some moderns, who sometimes talk as if the robbing of a monastery were actually a praiseworthy deed.

On the whole, considering all the instances, we shall perhaps see reason to think that all charges of this kind, charges in which we can very seldom hear both sides, must be taken with great doubt and qualification. On the other hand it is plain that the tenure of Church property, perhaps of all property, was in those rough days very uncertain. Men, we may well believe, often gave with one hand and took with the other. No one did this more systematically than the Great William himself. I will end this long note with the comments of his namesake of Malmesbury on William’s doings in this respect, comments which seem to have been equally applicable to many others among the great men of his age;

“Ita ejus tempore ultro citroque cœnobialis grex excrevit, monasteria surgebant, religione vetera, ædificiis recentia. Sed hìc animadverto mussitationem dicentium, melius fuisse ut antiqua in suo statu conservarentur, quam, illis semimutilatis, de rapinâ nova construerentur” (iii. 278).

NOTE F. p. 36. The Children of Godwine.

The question of Godwine’s marriage or marriages I examined in my first volume (p. 467), and I there came to the conclusion that there is no ground for attributing to him more than one wife, namely Gytha, the daughter of Thurgils Sprakaleg and sister of Ulf. There is no doubt that Gytha was the mother of all those 553sons and daughters of Godwine who play such a memorable part in our history.

The fullest lists of Godwine’s sons are those given by William of Malmesbury (ii. 200) and Orderic (502 B). William’s list runs thus, Harold, Swegen, Tostig, Wulfnoth, Gyrth, Leofwine. That of Orderic is, Swegen, Tostig, Harold, Gyrth, Ælfgar, Leofwine, Wulfnoth. Saxo (196) speaks of Harold, Beorn, and Tostig as sons of Godwine; that is, he mistook Beorn the nephew of Gytha for her son. Snorro (Laing, iii. 75. Ant. Celt. Scand. 189) has a far more amazing genealogy. He seems to assume that Godwine must have been the father of every famous Englishman of his time, and he reckons up his sons thus—Tostig the eldest, Maurokari (Morkere), Waltheof, Swegen, and Harold. He pointedly adds that Harold was the youngest. It must be on the same principle that Bromton (943) seems to make Godwine the father of Gruffydd of Wales. At least his list runs thus, Swegen, Wulfnoth, Leofwine, Harold, Tostig, and Griffin. So Walter of Hemingburgh (i. 4) gives Godwine a son Griffus, which may be a confusion between Gruffydd and Gyrth. Knighton (2334) gives the sons as Swegen, Harold, Tostig, Wulfnoth, Gyrth, and Leofric. But elsewhere, as Bromton had given Godwine a Gruffydd, Knighton in the same spirit helps him to a Llywelyn. At least he talks (2238) of the “malitia et superbia Haraldi et Lewlini filiorum Godwini.”

The Biographer mentions four sons, Harold, Tostig, Gyrth, and Leofric. This last mistake is odd, as from the combined authority of the Chronicles, Florence, Domesday, and the Tapestry, there can be no doubt that the true name is Leofwine. But the two names are much alike, and both were current in the great Mercian house, whence they probably came into the house of Godwine. If Earl Leofric was the godfather of Godwine’s son, and gave him, not his own name, but that of his father Leofwine, the confusion would be easily accounted for.

Of these sons, there is no doubt about six, namely Swegen, Harold, Tostig, Gyrth, Leofwine, Wulfnoth, who all figure in the history at different points. The only question is whether we ought, on the sole authority of Orderic, to add a seventh son named Ælfgar. According to him, Ælfgar lived and died a monk at Rheims, and Wulfnoth did the like at Salisbury. This is undoubtedly false as regards Wulfnoth; and the tale of a son of Godwine, otherwise 554unknown, spending his whole life in a French monastery has a somewhat apocryphal sound. At any rate we may dismiss Ælfgar, as a person of whose actions, if he ever existed, we have no knowledge, while of the other six brethren we know a good deal.

Of the daughters of Godwine, there is no need to prove the existence of Eadgyth the Lady. Another daughter, Gunhild, rests on the sure evidence of the Exon Domesday (pp. 96, 99, “Gunnilla filia Comitis Godwini”). She also has a history. A third daughter, Ælfgifu, is more doubtful. Kelham (Domesday, 153) and Sir Henry Ellis (i. 309) speak of “Ælveva soror Heraldi” as occurring in Domesday, but they give no reference, and I have not as yet been able to find her name in the great record. But it seems likely that Godwine had a third daughter, and it is not unlikely that her name was Ælfgifu. It is part of the story of Harold’s oath (Sim. Dun. 1066 and elsewhere) that he promised to marry his sister to one of William’s nobles. Obviously this cannot apply to Eadgyth, nor yet to Gunhild, who was devoted to a religious life. I shall, in my next volume, discuss the question whether this sister may not be the puzzling Ælfgyva of the Tapestry.

Of the order of the sons there is no doubt. Swegen (“filius primogenitus Swanus,” Fl. Wig. 1051) was the eldest. Harold came next. That Harold was older than Tostig is plain from the Biographer (“major natu Haroldus,” 409), and indeed from the whole history. So even Saxo (207) speaks of “minores Godovini filii [which at least includes Tostig] majorem perosi.” Orderic’s notion (492 D) that Harold was younger that Tostig is simply a bit of the Norman legend, devised to represent Harold as depriving his elder brother, sometimes of the Earldom, sometimes of the Kingdom. Snorro’s idea that Harold was the youngest of all is wilder still. The order of the several brothers is marked very plainly in the dates of their promotion to Earldoms; this is Swegen, Harold, Tostig, Gyrth, Leofwine. Wulfnoth, who never held an Earldom, was doubtless the youngest.

The order in which the brothers sign charters is worth notice. Setting aside one impossible charter (Cod. Dipl. iv. 80–84), Swegen always signs before Harold, Harold always before Tostig, Tostig always before Gyrth and Leofwine. But Harold, Gyrth, and Leofwine do not observe so strict an order among themselves. May we not infer from the recorded disposition and actions of 555Swegen and Tostig that a certain attention to ceremony was needed in their cases, while the other three brothers, who lived and died firm friends, could afford to dispense with it?

The order of the daughters among themselves must have been Eadgyth, Gunhild, Ælfgifu, if there was an Ælfgifu. For a daughter of Godwine and Gytha to have been talked of as an intended wife for any one in 1066, she must have been the very youngest of the family.

The order of the sisters with regard to their brothers is more difficult to fix. It is hopeless to try to fix the place of Gunhild. But, as Ælfgifu must have been the youngest, there is some reason to believe that Eadgyth was the eldest of the family. The Biographer (p. 397) compares four children of Godwine, seemingly Eadgyth, Harold, Tostig, and Gyrth—he never mentions Swegen—to the four rivers of Paradise;

“Felix prole piâ Dux, stirpe beatus avitâ,

His quatuor natis dans Anglia pignora pacis.

Prodit gemma prior, variæ probitatis amatrix,

In medio Regni, tanto Duce filia patre

Ædgit digna suo, Regi condigna marito.”

This looks as if Eadgyth was the eldest of all. Godwine and Gytha were married in 1019 (see vol. i. p. 467). Harold therefore, the second son, could not, even if Eadgyth was younger than himself, have been born before 1021, perhaps not till 1022 or later. He therefore could not have been above twenty-four when he became Earl, nor above forty-five at his death—he may of course have been younger. But none of Godwine’s sons who held Earldoms could have been so young as William of Malmesbury fancied Gyrth to be in 1066, when he calls him (iii. 239) “plus puero adultus et magnæ ultra ætatem virtutis et scientiæ.” He had then been Earl of the East-Angles for nine years.

NOTE G. p. 36. The Great Earldoms during the Reign of Eadward.

It is not always easy to trace the succession of the men who ruled the different Earldoms of England during the reign of Eadward. In several cases the Chronicles give us notices of the death, 556deposition, or translation of one Earl and of the appointment of his successor. But these entries taken alone would not enable us to put together a perfect series of the Earls. For instance, Eadwine (1065), Gyrth (1066), Leofwine (1066), Waltheof (1066), are all spoken of as Earls without any account of their appointment, and, in the last three cases, without any hint as to the districts over which they ruled. To make out anything like a perfect list, we must go to various incidental notices in the royal writs and elsewhere. By their help we shall be able to recover, not indeed an absolutely complete account, but one much fuller than appears on the face of the history, and one which reveals to us a great number of anomalies which we should not have expected. The way in which several Earls held isolated shires detached from the main body of their Earldoms, and the way in which shires were transferred from the jurisdiction of one Earl to that of another, are both of them very remarkable.

For a complete view of these changes, and indeed of the general succession of the Earls, we must go back to the fourfold division of England by Cnut in 1017 (see vol. i. p. 448). Cnut then kept Wessex in his own hands, and appointed Eadric over Mercia, Thurkill over East-Anglia, Eric over Northumberland. In 1020 (see vol. i. p. 469), Wessex also became an Earldom under Godwine. Now in these four great governments we can trace the succession of Earls without difficulty, with the single exception of East-Anglia. We have no account of that Earldom from the banishment of Thurkill in 1021 (see vol. i. p. 473) to the appointment of Harold, seemingly in 1045 (see above, p. 37). As for Northumberland, I have already traced out the succession of its Earls (see vol. i. p. 585 et seqq.). There is no doubt that, at the accession of Eadward, Siward was in possession of both parts of the old Northern realm, and that he remained in possession of them till his death. The succession in Wessex is plainer still; Godwine was appointed in 1020, Harold succeeded him in 1053; there is no room for any question, except as to the disposal of the Earldom during the year of Godwine’s banishment. And the mere succession in Mercia is equally plain. Leofwine succeeded Eadric in 1017; Leofric succeeded Leofwine some time between 1024 and 1032 (see vol. i. p. 461); Ælfgar succeeded Leofric in 1057; Eadwine, there can be no reasonable doubt, succeeded Ælfgar on 557his death, at some time between 1062 and 1065. Our difficulties are of other kinds. There is, first, the great uncertainty as to the meaning of the name Mercia. There is the fact that various shires, especially in Mercia, are found in the hands of other Earls than those to whom the fourfold division would seem to have committed them. There is the fact that we find mention of Earls holding Earldoms other than the four great ones, and seemingly formed by dismemberments of the four. Lastly, we find, especially under Cnut, the names of several Earls whom it is not easy to supply with Earldoms.

This last difficulty need not greatly trouble us. It does not follow that every Danish chief who signs a charter of Cnut with the title of Earl was actually established in an English Earldom. On the other hand, some one must have ruled in East-Anglia between 1021 and 1045, and it is a fair guess, though nothing more, that the successive husbands of Gunhild, Hakon and Harold (see vol. i. p. 475 et seqq.), who are spoken of as if they had some permanent connexion with England, were Earls of the East-Angles during some parts of that interval. The main difficulty springs from what seem to have been the constantly fluctuating arrangements of the Mercian shires. The old chaotic state of central England seems to revive. First, it is not always clear what we are to understand by the name Mercia. The name at this stage sometimes includes, sometimes excludes, those parts of old Mercia which were ceded by Ælfred to Guthrum. Secondly, we find various shires, Mercian in one or the other sense, which are not under the government of the person spoken of as the Earl of the Mercians.

Now when, as in the fourfold division made by Cnut, Wessex, Northumberland, East-Anglia, and Mercia are spoken of as an exhaustive division of England, there can be no doubt that Mercia is taken in the widest sense, meaning the whole land from Bristol on the Avon to Barton on the Humber. With this great government Eadric was invested. But it is equally plain (see vol. i. p. 580) that, at a somewhat later time, either Mercia in this sense was dismembered in favour of independent Earls, or else subordinate Earls were appointed under a superior Earl of the Mercians. I will now put together the evidence which we find on these heads.