Chapter VII · (continued 4)

We can have little doubt in accepting the fact of the Bishop’s treason, not only on the authority of the Chronicler and the other writers who follow him, but on the strength of the proceedings in the King’s court. In the Bishop’s own story a definite charge is brought against him, and he never really answers it. He goes off into a cloud of irrelevant questions, and into a statement of services done to the King, a statement which most likely is perfectly true, but which is no answer to the indictment. The great puzzle of the whole story, namely why Bishop William should have turned against the King at all, is not made any clearer on either side.

It is certainly strange that this whole story of Bishop William, so minutely told as it is and illustrating so many points in our law and history, should have drawn to itself so little attention as it has done. Thierry takes no notice of it. It would indeed be hard to get anything about “Saxons and Normans” out of it. For, though the “indocta multitudo” may fairly pass for “Saxons,” yet these same “Saxons,” if hostile to the Cenomannian Bishop, are loyally devoted to the Norman King. Lappenberg also passes by the story altogether. Sir Francis Palgrave (Normandy and England, iv. 31, 46) makes some references to it which are provokingly short, as it is the kind of story to which he could have done full justice. Dr. Stubbs (Const. Hist. i. 440) has given a summary of the chief points in debate. But I believe that I may claim to be the first modern writer who has told the tale at full length in a narrative history. There are very few stories which bring the men and the institutions of the latter part of the eleventh century before us in a more living way, while the conduct of William of Saint-Calais at this stage must specially be borne in mind when we come to estimate his later conduct in the controversy with Anselm.

The Deliverance of Worcester in 1088.

The story of the deliverance of Worcester is one of those stories in which we can trace the early stages of legendary growth. It is one of the tales in which a miraculous element appears, but in which we can hardly say that there is any distortion of fact. The story is told in a certain way, and with a certain colouring, with which a modern writer would not tell it. Effects are attributed to causes to which a modern writer would not attribute them. But this is all. The mere facts are perfectly credible. There is no reason to doubt that Wulfstan exhorted the royal troops and excommunicated the rebels. There is no reason to doubt that the rebels were utterly defeated by the royal troops. And we may well believe that, in a certain sense, the defeat of the rebels was largely owing to the exhortations and excommunications of Wulfstan. The only legendary element in the story is to treat a result as miraculous which, under the circumstances, was thoroughly natural.

We have several accounts from contemporary or nearly contemporary writers. First comes the Peterborough Chronicler. After the passage quoted in p. 48, he goes on;

“Ðas þing geseonde se arwurða bisceop Wlfstan wearð swiðe gedrefed on his mode, forðig him wæs betæht þe castel to healdene. Ðeahhweðer his hiredmen ferdon ut mid feawe men of þam castele, and þurh Godes mildheortnisse and þurh þæs bisceopes geearnunga ofslogon and gelæhton fif hundred manna, and þa oðre ealle aflymdon.”

Here is nothing miraculous, only a very natural tendency to ascribe the deliverance to the prayers and merits of the Bishop. The version of Simeon of Durham (1088) gives us the “yearning” of Wulfstan in the more dramatic shape of a spoken prayer;

“Perrexerunt usque Wigornam, omnia ante se vastantes et igne consumentes. Cogitaverunt etiam quod castrum et ecclesiam vellent accipere, quod videlicet castrum tunc temporis commendatum erat Wlstano venerabili episcopo. Quando episcopus ista audivit, valde contristabatur, et cogitans quid consilii inde haberet, vertit se ad Deum suum, et rogat ut respiciat ecclesiam suam et populum suum ab hostibus oppressum. Hæc eo meditante, familia 476 ejus exiliit de castro, et acceperunt et occiderunt ex eis quingentos viros, et alios in fugam verterunt.”

In the version of Henry of Huntingdon (p. 215, Arnold) we again find only the prayer; but it is told with a picturesque description of the Bishop lying before the altar, while the loyal troops go forth, and, by a somewhat bold figure, the discomfiture of the enemy is made to be the work of Wulfstan himself. The number of the slain is also increased tenfold;

“Principes Herefordscyre et Salopscyre prædantes combusserunt cum Walensibus provinciam Wireceastre usque ad portas urbis. Cum autem templum et castellum assilire pararent, Wlstanus episcopus sanctus quendam amicum familiarem summis in necessitatibus compellavit, Deum videlicet excelsum. Cujus ope coram altari jacens in oratione, paucis militibus emissis, quinque mille hostium vel occidit vel cepit; ceteros vero mirabiliter fugavit.”

William of Malmesbury in the Gesta Regum (iv. 306) gives the prayer the form of a blessing on the King’s troops;

“Rogerius de Monte Gomerico, exercitum suum a Scrobesbiria cum Walensibus mittens, coloniam Wigorniensem prædabatur; jamque Wigorniam infestus advenerat, cum regii milites qui prætendebant, freti benedictione Wulstani episcopi, cui custodia castelli commissa erat, pauci multos effugarunt, pluribusque sauciis et cæsis, quosdam abduxerunt.”

Orderic (666 D) cuts the matter very short; but it is in his version that we first hear of Wulfstan cursing the rebels, as well as blessing the King’s troops. Having mentioned Osbern and Bernard (see pp. 33, 34), he merely adds; “In territorio Wigornensi rapinis et cædibus, prohibente et anathematizante viro Dei Wlfstano episcopo, nequiter insistebant.”

Here one might almost think that the anathema was of none effect. It is quite otherwise in the version which William of Malmesbury gives in the Gesta Pontificum (285)—​in his special Life of Wulfstan he leaves out the story altogether;

“Rogerius comes de Monte-gomerico, perfidiam contra principem meditatus, cum ejusdem factionis complicibus arma movebat infestus. Jamque, a Scrobbesberia usque Wigorniensem coloniam omnibus vastatis, urbem ipsam appropinquabat; cum regii milites, qui prætendebant, periculum exponunt episcopo. Is, maledictionis fulmen jaculatus in perfidos qui domino suo fidem non servarent, jubet 477 milites properare, Dei et ecclesiæ injurias ulturos. Mirum quis dixerit quod subjiciam, sed auctoritati veracium narratorum cedendum? Quidam enim adversariorum, regiis conspectis, timore inerti perculsi, quidam etiam cæcati, victoriam plenam, et qualem sperare nequibant, oppidanis cessere. Multi enim a paucis fugati, pars cæsi, pars saucii abducti.”

We have here only the cursing without the blessing; the point is that the curse is pronounced before the royal army sets out. The anathema in this version has its full effect; the legendary element appears in the story of the blindness of the enemy.

Lastly, we come to the account to which William most likely alludes when he speaks of the “veraces narratores,” that is, to the minute account given by Florence, which I have mainly followed in the text. His local knowledge and special interest in the story led him to tell it in much fuller detail than is found anywhere else. On the other hand, he gives a greater prominence than is given by any one else to the wonder-working effects of Wulfstan’s curse. This is only what was natural; it was in his own city, and above all in his own monastery, that the merits and miracles of the saint would be most fondly dwelled on, and most firmly believed in. At Worcester, if anywhere, the tale of the deliverance of Worcester was likely to grow. It is therefore in the local writer from whom we get our most trustworthy details that we also find the first approach to a really legendary element, though that element seems to go no further than a slight change in the order of events which brings out the saint’s powers more prominently. As we read the other versions, above all the fuller one of William of Malmesbury in the Gesta Pontificum, we should certainly infer that whatever Wulfstan did in the way of praying, blessing, or cursing, was done before the royal troops marched out of Worcester. In Florence the blessing and the cursing stand apart. The Bishop goes into the castle (see pp. 49, 50); the royal troops of all kinds make ready for battle, and meet the Bishop on his way to the castle, offering to cross the river and attack the enemy, if he gives them leave. He gives them leave, and promises them success (see p. 50). They then cross the bridge, and see the enemy afar spoiling the lands of the bishopric. On hearing of this, Wulfstan is persuaded to speak his anathema, which at once takes effect in the wonderful overthrow of the enemy.

478 “Res miranda, et Dei virtus et viri bonitas nimis in hoc prædicanda; nam statim hostes, ut sparsi vagabantur per agros, tanta membrorum percutiuntur debilitate, tanta exteriori oculorum attenuantur cæcitate, ut vix arma valerent ferre, nec socios agnoscere, nec eos discernere qui eis oberant ex adversa parte. Illos fallebat cæcitatis ignorantia, nostros confortabat Dei et episcopalis benedictionis confidentia. Sic illi insensati nec sciebant capere fugam, nec alicujus defensionis quærebant viam; sed Dei nutu dati in reprobum sensum, facile cedebant manibus inimicorum.”

Now this is a legend of the very simplest kind; or rather it is not strictly a legend at all, but only a story on the way to become a legend. Beyond a slight change in the order, there is no reason to suspect that the facts of the case are at all misrepresented; they are simply coloured in the way in which it was natural that the successful party should colour them. There is in strictness no miraculous element in the story; it has merely reached the stage at which the germs of a miraculous element are beginning to show themselves. That Wulfstan would encourage his people to fight in a good cause, that he would pray for their success, we may feel certain. That his exhortation might take the shape of a promise—​perhaps only a conditional promise—​of victory is no more than was natural. And an anathema pronounced against the rebels is as natural as the blessing pronounced on the royal troops. We may be sure that men stirred up by such exhortations and promises would really fight the better for having heard them. And if the fact that Wulfstan had pronounced an anathema, or even that he was likely to pronounce an anathema, anyhow came to the knowledge of the rebels, it is hardly less certain that they would fight the worse for hearing of it. The only thing in which there is even the germ of miracle is the statement that the invaders were smitten with lameness or blindness or something like it, at the very moment when the Bishop pronounced his excommunication. Now, in all stories of this kind, we must bear in mind that mysterious power of φήμη (see vol. ii. p. 309), which I do not profess to explain, but which certainly is a real thing. News certainly does sometimes go at a wonderful pace; and the rebels might really hear the news of Wulfstan’s excommunication so soon that it would be a very slight exaggeration to say that it wrought an effect on them at the very moment when it was uttered. A body 479 of men who had already broken their ranks and were scattered abroad for plunder hear that a sentence has been pronounced against them by a man whose office and person were held in reverence by all men, French and English—​for the Britons I cannot answer. At this news they would surely fall into greater confusion still, and would become an easy prey to the better disciplined troops who had the Bishop’s exhortations and promises still ringing in their ears. To say that such men, confused and puzzled, not knowing which way to turn, were struck with sudden blindness and lameness would be little more than a poetical way of describing what really happened. That all this was owing to the prayers and merits of Wulfstan would of course be taken for granted; that the victory was owing to his prayers and merits is taken for granted in those versions of the story which do not bring in the least approach to a miraculous element. One change only in the story itself would seem, as I have already hinted, to come from a legendary source. I have in my own text, while following the details of Florence, not scrupled so far to depart from his order as to make the Bishop’s anathema come before, instead of after, the march of the royal troops from the city. That is, I have made the blessing and cursing take place at the same time. This seems better to agree with the account in the Gesta Pontificum. And, following, as it seems to me, the words of the Chronicle (geseonde), I have ventured to make Wulfstan actually see the havoc wrought by the invaders, while we should infer from Florence, as from Simeon, that he only heard of it. It is of course part of the wonder that his anathema should work its effect on men at a distance. By making these two small changes—​which the other accounts seem to bear out—​in the narrative of Florence, we get a version in which there is really no legendary element at all, beyond the pious or poetical way in which the discomfiture of the enemy is spoken of. To say that the enemy were smitten with blindness and lameness was an obvious figure of speech. To say that they were so smitten by virtue of the Bishop’s anathema was, in the ideas of those times, no figure of speech at all, but a natural inference from the fact. To say that they were smitten, while still at a distance, at the very moment when the Bishop pronounced the anathema was an improvement, perhaps rather a devout inference, so very obvious that it hardly marks a later stage in the story. The tale is as yet hardly legendary; 480 it is only on the point of becoming so. But it is the kind of story which one would have expected to grow. Yet those later writers who mention the matter seem simply to copy Florence, without bringing in any further improvements of their own. It is strange that, in the local Annals, as in the Life of Wulfstan, the deliverance of Worcester is left out altogether.

The story of the deliverance of Worcester may be compared with the story of the overthrow of Swegen at Gainsburgh. See N. C. vol. i. p. 366. But the Worcester story is in an earlier stage than the Gainsburgh story. The main difference is that the hero of the one story was dead, while the hero of the other story was alive. The living Bishop of Worcester could not, even in a figure or in a legend, be brought in as acting as the dead and canonized King of the East-Angles could be made to act. The utmost that could be done in this way was when Henry of Huntingdon speaks of the exploits of the loyal army as the personal exploits of the Bishop whom he describes as lying before the altar. Wulfstan, notwithstanding his youthful skill in military exercises (see N. C. vol. ii. p. 470), could not be brought in as smiting the enemy, lance in hand, as Saint Eadmund did Swegen.

Another story of an army smitten with blindness is that of the Normans at Northallerton in 1069 (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 241). And a scene not unlike the scene before Worcester, though the circumstances are all different, and the position of the bishop in the story is specially different, is to be found in the rout of the Cenomannian army before Sillé in 1073 (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 553).

Two small questions of fact arise out of the comparison of our authorities. The expressions of the Chronicler (“forðig him was betæht þe castel to healdene”), of Simeon, and of William of Malmesbury in the Gesta Regum (“cui custodia castelli commissa erat”) would certainly lead us to think that Wulfstan was actually commanding for the King in the castle when the rebellion began. The detailed narrative in Florence makes him go to the castle only at the special request of the garrison when the enemy are on their march. There is perhaps no formal contradiction. Wulfstan had before now held military command (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 579), and he might have the command of the castle without being actually 481 within its walls. But the story in Florence does not set Wulfstan before us as an actual military commander, but rather as a person venerated of all men whose approval of the course to be taken was sought by those who were in command. It is safest to take the detailed story in Florence, and to take the words of the Chronicler and of Simeon and William as the laxer way of speaking used by men who did not aim at the same local precision. The Bishop might in some sort be said to have the castle entrusted to him when the garrison had asked him to come into it.

The other point is that William of Malmesbury in both his versions seems to make Earl Roger present in person before Worcester. But the language of the other accounts (see p. 47) seems carefully to imply that, though he joined in the “unrede,” and though his men were engaged in the revolt on the border, yet he had not himself any personal share in that campaign. It is certain that, when we next hear of him (see p. 58), it is in quite another character and in quite another part of England.

A lately published record brings in a new actor in the defence of Worcester. This is the “Annales de ecclesiis et regnis Anglorum” in Liebermann’s “Ungedruckte Anglo-Normannische Geschichtsquellen,” 22. This contains an account of the deliverance of Worcester, enlarged from Florence, in which Abbot Guy of Pershore appears as Wulfstan’s military lieutenant; “Intererat quidam consilio providus Wido Persorcusis abbas. Hunc ultro se offerentem jus pontificale creans ad tempus militem, statuit belli ducem totum in Deo et in orationibus episcopi confidentem.” Guy was the successor of Thurstan (see N. C. vol. iv. pp. 384, 697) who died in 1087. He was one of the abbots deposed by Anselm in 1102. As Anselm himself had held a military command, the deposition could hardly have been on the ground of Guy’s exploits on this day.

The Attempted Landing of the Normans at Pevensey.

It is with some hesitation that I have spoken as I have done in the text, because it is hard to reconcile our authorities without supposing that the siege of Pevensey was accompanied by a sea-force 482 on the part of the King. No ships have been spoken of before; none are distinctly mentioned now; some of the descriptions might be understood only of a land-force lining the shore; but operations on the water seem implied in some of the accounts, and they may be understood in any. There is no need to think of a great fleet; the sea-faring men of the neighbourhood could surely do all that is recorded to have been done.

The words of the Chronicler, of William of Malmesbury, and of Henry of Huntingdon, might be understood merely of a land-force employed to keep the enemy from landing; but their expressions may be quite as naturally taken of operations on the water as well. The Chronicler is emphatic on the exploit of the English;

“Ac þa Englisce men þe wærdedon þære sæ gelæhton of þam mannon and slogon, and adrengton ma þonne ænig man wiste to tellanne.”

So Henry of Huntingdon (215); “Anglici mare custodientes occiderunt et submerserunt ex illis innumerabiles.”

The details come from William of Malmesbury, iv. 306;

“Inter has obsidionis moras, homines regis mare custodientes quosdam quos comes Normanniæ in auxilium perfidorum miserat, partim cæde, partim naufragio, oppressere: reliqui fugam intendentes et suspendere carbasa conati, moxque vento cessante destituti, ludibrio nostris, sibi exitio, fuere; nam, ne vivi caperentur, e transtris se in mare præcipitarunt.”

It is Simeon of Durham (1088) who more distinctly brings out the features of a fight by sea;

“Rex Willelmus jam mare munierat suis piratis, qui venientes in Angliam tot occiderunt et in mare merserunt, ut nullus sit hominum qui sciat numerum pereuntium.”

This seems to come from the Chronicle; but “þa Englisce men þe wærdedon þære sæ” are distinctly sent on board vessels of some kind by the name of “piratæ.”

The “pirates” too and the sea-fight come out more distinctly in the narrative of the Hyde writer quoted above (see p. 76). His tale must really mean the attack on Pevensey with which we are now dealing, though he has strangely confused times, places, and persons.

Roger of Wendover (ii. 34) gives the narrative of William of 483 Malmesbury a new turn, and specially puts the “perfidi” of his version in an unlooked-for light;

“Inter has obsidionis moras, ministri regis mare custodientes quosdam quos dux Robertus in auxilium prædictorum miserat schismaticorum, partim cæde et partim naufragio oppresserunt: quorum quidam fugam meditantes vento destituuntur, et sic ludibrio Anglis sibique exitio exstiterunt, nam, ne vivi caperentur, ultro sese fluctibus submerserunt.”

Florence (see p. 74) gives an animated account of the operations by land; but he wholly leaves out the coming of the Norman fleet.

The Bishopric of Somerset and the Abbey of Bath.

William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 194) has got wrong in his chronology when he makes John already bishop before the death of the Conqueror, but unable to carry out his scheme for the removal of the bishopric till the accession of Rufus. “Minoris gloriæ putans si in villa [should this be some form of Wells?] resideret inglorius, transferre thronum in Bathoniam animo intendit. Sed cum id inaniter, vivente Willelmo patre, cogitasset, tempore Willelmi filii effecit.” Gisa certainly did not die till 1088, and John was consecrated in July of that year. “Qui cum rex excellentissimus Willielmus senior, qui xxij. annis regnaverat, fine laudabili vitam conclusisset, et Willielmus junior filius ejus pro eo regnaret, consecratus est episcopus in Julio.” (Historiola, 21.)

The transfer of the bishopric to Bath and the union of the abbey with the bishopric are undoubted facts; as the writer of the Historiola says, “Statim cathedram pontificis transtulit de Wella Bathoniæ.” The charter of William Rufus making this grant is printed in the Monasticon, ii. 266; the original is preserved in the chapter library at Wells. It is in two handwritings, the former part containing the first grant of 1088, while the second consists of a confirmation of 1090, or rather 1091. The substance of the grant is contained in the words;

“Ego Willelmus Willelmi regis filius, Dei dispositione monarches 484 Britanniæ, pro meæ meique patris remedio animæ, et regni prosperitate, et populi a Domino mihi collati salute, concessi Johanni episcopo abbatiam sancti Petri Bathoniæ, cum omnibus appendiciis, tam in villis quam in civitate et in consuetudinibus, illis videlicet, quibus saisita erat ea die qua regnum suscepi. Dedi, inquam, ad Sumersetensis episcopatus augmentationem, eatenus præsertim ut inibi instituat præsuleam sedem.”

On the use of the title “monarches Britanniæ,” see N. C. vol. i. p. 561. It is somewhat singular that, when Henry of Huntingdon (211) speaks of the Conqueror as leaving “regnum Angliæ” to his second son, Robert of Torigny, in his own Chronicle, 1085, changes it into “monarchiam Angliæ.”

The date of the first grant is thus given;

“Lanfranco archipræsule machinante, Wintoniæ factum est donum hujus beneficii, mill. lxxxviiiᵒ. anno ab incarnatione Domini, secundo vero anno regni regis Willelmi filii prioris Willelmi.”

The second year of William Rufus takes in from September 26, 1088, to September 26, 1089. It is perhaps not necessary to suppose that this first grant was made in an assembly at all. If it was, we must either suppose an extraordinary assembly in the autumn of 1088 (for we have seen by the story of Bishop William of Durham that the Christmas assembly of that year was held as usual at Westminster, see p. 116), or else we must suppose that it was done in the Easter assembly of 1089. Yet it is rather straining chronology, even if we begin the year at Easter, to reckon that assembly to 1088. (In 1089 Easter-day fell on April 1st.) But that the dates of this charter begin the year at some time later than the 1st of January is plain from the confirmation, which was made at Dover “anno Dominicæ incarnationis mill. xc. regni vero mei iiii. indictione xiii. vi. kal. Febr. luna iii.” This must mean the January of 1091, as the January of 1090 comes in the third, not in the fourth, year of Rufus. Also the charter is signed by Ralph Bishop of Chichester and Herbert Bishop of Thetford, who did not become bishops till 1091, and who thus seem to have been consecrated very early in the year. The confirmation would thus seem to have been made just before William Rufus crossed into Normandy in 1091 (see p. 273), when Dover was a likely place to find him at. A long list of signatures was made 485 ready, though some only of the names actually received the cross from the signer’s own hand. Among these indeed are the names of Ralph and Herbert themselves, as well as those of Saint Wulfstan and Bishop Geoffrey of Coutances. Bishop Howel of Le Mans signs with his own hand, and after the abbots comes the unsigned name of “Gosfridus Mala Terra” without any further description. Can this be the historian of the Apulian wars? The earls and counts whose names are given are Roger (of Shrewsbury), Robert (of Mortain or of Meulan?), Simon (of Northampton), Hugh (of Chester), Alan (of Britanny and Richmond), Henry, Walter, and William. Of these, Roger, Simon, and Alan actually sign. Earl Walter must be Walter Giffard, created Earl of Buckingham by Rufus (see Stubbs, Const. Hist. i. 361). Henry must be Henry Earl of Warwick, brother of Robert of Meulan (see Will. Gem. vii. 4; Ord. Vit. 676 A; Will. Malms. v. 393; Stubbs, u. s.), and William must be the younger William of Warren, Earl of Surrey, that is, if his father died as is asserted by the Hyde writer, or even so soon as we should infer from Orderic (680 D). The signatures to this charter thus help us in fixing the dates of the creation of these earldoms. “Robertus cancellarius” is the future Bishop of Lincoln. “Samson capellanus,” who does not sign though his name is there, must surely be he who refused the bishopric of Le Mans (see p. 205), or else he who was afterwards Bishop of Worcester (see p. 542), if the two are not the same. Among smaller lay names are many with which we are familiar. The name of Robert Fitz-hamon stands apart after the earls, marking his special position in the King’s favour. The name of Randolf Peverel, whom we have met with in the story of Bishop William (see p. 109), is followed in the original by that of William Peverel, which is left out in the Monasticon. The Sheriff Aiulf (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 163) and Ælfred of Lincoln (see N. C. vol. iii. p. 778) are the only names which can be those of Englishmen. So soon were the promises of the Red King forgotten.

It was almost needless on the part of Roger of Wendover (ii. 42), or whoever he followed, to say that the change was made “consensu Willelmi regis, albo unguento manibus ejus delibatis,” a phrase which reminds one of “candidi nummi” in Domesday, 164.

Of the two societies which this change so deeply affected, we 486 hear the moan of the monks of Bath in William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 195), and that of the canons of Wells in the local Historiola (22). Of Bishop John’s doings at Bath we read;

“Primo aliquantum dure in monachos agebat, quod essent hebetes et ejus æstimatione barbari, et omnes terras, victualium ministras, auferens, pauculumque victum per laicos suos exiliter inferens. Sed, procedentibus annis, factis novis monachis, mitius se agere, aliquantulum terrarum, quo se hospitesque suos quoquomodo sustentarent, priori indulgens. Multa ibi nobiliter per eum incepta et consummata, in ornamentis et libris, maximeque monachorum congregatione, qui sunt scientia literarum et sedulitate officiorum juxta prædicabiles…. Obiit grandævus, qui nec etiam moriens emolliri potuit, ut plena manu monachorum terras redderet, successoribus suis non imitandum præbens exemplum.”

The Wells tale forms a very remarkable piece of local history, the main features of which are given in the local Historiola (22), and which has been illustrated by Dr. Stubbs.

Our more general history is chiefly concerned with the undoing of the work of Gisa;

“Domiciliis quoque canonicorum quæ Gyso venerabilis construxerat, refectorio scilicet et dormitorio necnon et cellario et aliis officinis necessariis, cum claustro dirutis, canonici foras ejecti coacti sunt cum populo communiter vivere, quos Gyso docuerat regulariter et religiose cohabitare.”

He afterwards, we are told, repented; but the canons of Wells did not recover their property till the days of Bishop Robert (1136–1166), who, though himself a monk, settled the constitution of the church of Wells after the usual pattern of secular chapters.

The later Wells writer in Anglia Sacra, i. 560, tells this story, that is the story of the Historiola, with a few further touches. We read how John, “inconsultis canonicis Wellensibus et præter eorum consensum, transtulit sedem episcopalem Wellensem in abbatiam Bathoniensem … et dimisso nomine episcopatus Wellensis, primus omnium fecit se Bathoniensem episcopum appellari.” This last charge is doubtless true; but it may be doubted whether the bishopric of the Sumorsætan, though its bishopsettle was at Wells, had ever been know by the local style of bishopric of Wells (see N. C. vol. ii. pp. 606, 608). He tells the story of the 487 destruction of the canonical buildings, with the addition that “fundum in quo prius habitabant sibi et suis successoribus usurpavit, palatiumque suum episcopale ibidem construxit.” One is almost inclined to think that there is here some confusion between John’s two sets of victims, at Bath and at Wells. The use of the word “palatium” is later than the days of John; but he doubtless did build his chief house at Bath, and it may very likely have been at the cost of the monks. He is not at all likely, when forsaking Wells, to have built himself a house there, and, unless Bishop Robert in the next century altogether changed the site of the church, no cloister can ever have stood on the site of the present palace of Wells. Yet the building of the house supplies a motive for pulling down the cloister, which otherwise seems to be lacking.

The grant of the city of Bath to Bishop John was first made by William Rufus, and was afterwards confirmed by Henry the First. The first grant is recorded in the Historiola (21);

“Cum in multis et magnis obsequendo regis familiaritatem obtineret, impetravit ab ipso sibi civitatem Bathoniæ.”

The confirmation by Henry is recorded by Florence (1122), and by William of Malmesbury, Gest. Pont. 194;

“Nec eo contentus, totam etiam civitatem in suos et successorum usus transtulit, ab Henrico rege quingentis libris argenti mercatus urbem, in qua balnearum calidarum latex emergens auctorem Julium Cæsarem habuisse creditur.”

(He goes on with more about the Bath waters and the history of the place.)

The Monasticon contains several charters bearing on this matter (ii. 267, 268). There is first the charter of Rufus, addressed “O[smundo] episcopo Saresbergensi et T[urstano] abbati, Glastoniensi et A[iulfo?] vicecomiti, omnibusque baronibus Francigenis et Anglis de Sumerseta et de Wiltunscire,” which grants “totam civitatem Bathoniæ in eleemosynam et ad augmentationem pontificalis sedis suæ … ut cum maximo honore pontificalem suam habeat sedem.” Then comes one of Henry’s grants at Windsor in 1101, when he says, “Renovavi donum quod fecerat frater meus Willelmus rex de civitate Bathoniæ, et eamdem civitatem donavi Deo et beato Petro apostolo et Johanni episcopo, cum omnibus consuetudinibus et appendiciis quæ ad ipsum pertinent, 488 civitatem constitui et concessi, ut ibi deinceps sit caput et mater ecclesia totius episcopatus de Sumersete.”

Another charter of Henry, confirming various privileges, is granted at Bishop’s Waltham in 1111 “in transitu regis in Normanniam” (see the Chronicle, 1111, and N. C. vol. v. p. 182). It says, “Eam donationem quam donavi Deo et sancto Petro in Batha, ubi frater meus Willielmus et ego constituimus et confirmavimus sedem episcopatus totius Summersetæ, quæ olim erat apud villam quæ dicitur Wella, scilicet ipsam urbem et omnia pertinentia ad firmam ejusdem civitatis, dono et confirmo ipsi Domino nostro Jesu Christo et beato apostolo Petro et Johanni episcopo ejusque successoribus jure perpetuo et hæreditario.”

Another from Geddington in 1102 is addressed to a string of great men, “omnibusque baronibus Francigenis et Angligenis de Sumerset et de omni Anglia.”

The wording of these charters illustrates a crowd of points which we have come across at various times, as the name of the land of Somerset, the use of “jus hæreditarium,” and specially the “barones [þegnas] Angligenæ.” Among the signatures the charter of 1111 has the unsigned names of two Romans, “Johannes Tusculanus episcopus” and “Tyberius dapifer et legatus.” (This Tiberius is spoken of again in a letter of Anselm to Gundulf, Ep. iii. 85, and in a letter to King Henry, iii. 86, therefore before 1108, the date of Gundulf’s death, but after the promotion of Gerard to the archbishopric of York; he was in England on business about the Romescot.) The second has the name of “Johannes Baiocensis,” seemingly the son of Bishop Odo. Naturally neither King makes any mention of the five hundred pounds which, according to William of Malmesbury, the Bishop paid for the grant.

Lastly, there is Bishop John’s charter of 1106 (“regnante Henrico filio magni Willelmi Northmannorum ducis et Anglorum regis”), which records his own acts, and makes some restitution at least to the monks;

“Notum vobis facio quod ad honorem Dei et sancti Petri elaboravi et ad effectum perduxi, cum decenti auctoritate, ut caput et mater ecclesia totius episcopatus de Sumerseta sit in urbe Bathonia in ecclesia S. Petri. Cui beato apostolo et servitoribus ejus monachis reddidi terras eorum quas aliquamdiu injuste tenueram 489 in manu mea, ita integre et libere sicut Alsius abbas ante me tenuit.”

He grants them certain lands which he had bought, amongst others the estate of Hugh or Hugolin with the Beard, a purchase mentioned also in the Historiola, where the price is given at sixty pounds. A comparison of the three places in Domesday 49 b, 50 b, and 99 seems to show that Mr. Hunter (p. 38) is right in making “Hugo barbatus” in Hampshire and “Hugolinus interpres” the same man. But he leaves out his third description in 50 b as “Hugo latinarius.” It is some comfort to learn from Mr. Hunter that the “taini regis” were “a very respectable class;” but it is perhaps more important to note that we have here a “tainus Francigena” to match the “barones Angligenæ.” Some of Hugh’s lands had been held of Earl Tostig by one Siward.

In the Monasticon (ii. 264) and the Codex Diplomaticus (vi. 209–211) are some English documents, chiefly sales and manumissions, done at Bath in the days of Abbot Ælfsige and Bishop John. As usual in these private documents, there is a great mixture of Norman and English names among the signatures. Take such a list as this in Cod. Dipl. vi. 210;

“Osward preóst, and Willelm ðe clerce, and Hugo ðe postgerefa, and Beóring, and Leófríc, and Heoðewulf, and Burchhard, and Wulwi, and Geosfræi, and Ælfword ðe smið, and Eádwi se rédes sune, and Rodberd ðe Frencisce.”

Here we have one of our puzzling Domesday Ælfreds (see N. C. v. 737, 777) witnessing a manumission of Bishop John;

“Her swutelað on ðisse Cristes béc ðæt Lifgið æt Forda is gefreód and hire twa cild for ðone biscop Iohanne and for ealne ðone hired on Baðon on Ælfredes gewitnesse Aspania.”

Again in Monasticon, ii. 265 (cf. p. 269), we have a somewhat puzzling mention of an Abbot Wulfwold as well as Ælfsige;

“Her geswytelað on þysan gewrite þa forefarde þa Willelm Hosatt geworhte wið Wlfwold abbod, and wið Ælfsige abbod and wið eall þone hired on Baðan.”

All this must be a little startling to those who believe that the Conqueror ordered all documents to be drawn up in French.

There is also a Latin document printed in the Archæological Journal, No. 145, p. 83, in which William of Moion, the first 490 Norman lord of Dunster, grants the church of Dunster to Bishop John and his monks (“ecclesiæ beati Petri de Bathonia et Johanni episcopo ejusdem monasterii et monachis tam præsentibus quam futuris”). William of Moion’s witnesses seem to be all Normans; but we get some English names among those on the part of the Bishop; “Gireuuardus monachus et Girebertus archidiaconus et Dunstanus sacerdos et Gillebertus sacerdos et Willelmus clericus et Adelardus dapifer et Turaldus et Sabianus.”

There is a letter of Anselm (Ep. iii. 151) addressed to John Prior of Bath and the monks, but it contains no historical information. John was the first Prior after the change of foundation.

The Character of William Rufus.

Some of the main points in the character of William Rufus are not badly hit off by Giraldus (de Inst. Princ. iii. 30), though there are features on which he does not dwell;

“Erat rex ille strenuus in armis et animosus, sed tyrannus, adeo militiam diligens ecclesiamque Dei exosam habens ut monasteria cuncta domosque religiosas ab Anglis olim per Angliam fundatas et ditatas, cum terris omnibus et possessionibus, vel ex majori mutilare vel in militares feodos convertere proposuisset.”

These last words are of importance for another part of our inquiry (see p. 346); but the general phrase “militiam diligens,” a phrase capable of more meanings than one, is, in all its meanings, strictly applicable to Rufus.

Part of the character of him given by the Hyde writer (299) has been already quoted (see p. 353). He is brought in as follows, with the further note that he was “nimis amator pecuniæ;”

“Willelmus rex animo ferus, corpore strenuus, defensor quidem patriæ cœpit esse, sed non satis idoneus procreator [protector? or is a “nursing-father” meant?] ecclesiæ. Si enim ita studeret religioni quam vanæ curiositati, nullus ei profecto deberet princeps comparari.”

Geoffrey Gaimar (Chron. Ang. Norm. i. 30) brings him on the stage with some respect;

(For “honuré” another reading is “coroné.”) He then goes on to the war in Maine, so closely that he reaches Seez on his march soon enough for the name of that city to rime with “peès.”

But, after the picture in the Chronicles (1100), the character of William Rufus is best studied in the two works of William of Malmesbury. On the account in the Gesta Regum I have of course drawn largely; it is in fact, with some help from Orderic, our main storehouse. The tone which its writer takes throughout is very remarkable; he tries to make the best of things without directly contradicting the facts. In his prologue to the fourth book he complains of the difficulty, one which has not lessened since his time, of telling the exact truth about recent matters, especially when kings are concerned; and he at last lays down a rule which would forbid any suggestio falsi, but would allow a good deal of suppressio veri;

“Dicam in hoc libro … quidquid de Willelmo filio Willelmi magni dici poterit, ita ut nec veritas rerum titubet, nec principalis decoloretur majestas.”

He brings William Rufus in in the beginning of the book itself;

“Incomparabilis proculdubio nostro tempore princeps, si non eum magnitudo patris obrueret, nec ejus juventutem fata præcipitassent, ne per ætatem maturiorem aboleret errores licentia potestatis et impetu juvenili contractos.”

Certainly Rufus, like many other sinners, might have reformed; but the charitable hope is made less likely by the general witness, including that of the writer himself, that he grew worse and worse. For William of Malmesbury (iv. 312) says himself;

“Excellebat in eo magnanimitas, quam ipse processu temporis nimia severitate obfuscavit; ita in ejus furtim pectus vitia pro virtutibus serpebant ut discernere nequiret. Diu dubitavit mundus quo tandem vergeret, quo se inclinaret, indoles illius. Inter initia, vivente Lanfranco archiepiscopo, ab omni crimine abhorrebat, ut unicum fore regum speculum speraretur; quo defuncto, aliquamdiu varium se præstitit æquali lance vitiorum atque virtutum, jam vero, postremis annis bonorum gelante studio, incommodorum seges 492 succrescens incaluit. Et erat ita liberalis quod prodigus, ita magnanimus quod superbus, ita severus quod sævus. Liceat enim mihi, pace majestatis regiæ, verum non occuluisse, quia iste parum Deum reverebatur, nihil homines.”

He then gives some details, most of which I have quoted already, and adds an elaborate discourse on real and false liberality. He is obliged to allow (ib. 313) that the liberality of William Rufus was of the latter kind;

“Quidam, cum non habeant quod dent, ad rapinas convertuntur, majusque odium assequuntur ab his quibus auferunt quam beneficium ab his quibus contulerunt; quod huic regi accidisse dolemus.”

Some way on, after more about his liberality, followed by the description of the vices of the court, of which more anon, and a short reference to Anselm and Eadmer, comes (iv. 316) a most singular passage;

“Vides quantus e liberalitate quam putabat fomes malorum eruperit. In quibus corrigendis quia ipse non tam exhibuit diligentiam quam prætendebat negligentiam, magnam et vix abolendam incurrit infamiam; immerito, credo, quia nunquam se tali supponeret probro qui se tanto meminisset prælatum imperio. Hæc igitur ideo inelaborato et celeri sermone convolvo, quia de tanto rege mala dicere erubesco, in dejiciendis et extenuandis malis laborans.”

Then come the anecdotes, the annals of the reign, and the account of the King’s death. Then (iv. 333) we get another small picture of him, how he was

“Ingentia præsumens, et ingentia, si pensa Parcarum evolvere vel violentiam fortunæ abrumpere et eluctari potuisset, facturus.”

Lastly, he is dismissed with this general character;

“Vir sacrati ordinis hominibus, pro damno animæ cujus salutem revocare laborent, maxime miserandus; stipendiariis militibus pro copia donativorum mirandus; provincialibus, quod eorum substantias abradi sinebat, non desiderandus.”

The Gesta Regum was the courtly book, written for courtly readers, and dedicated to Earl Robert, the Red King’s nephew. The subject demanded that the writer should say something about the Red King; he had no mind to tell actual lies; so he made the best of him that he could without telling any. But William of Malmesbury also wrote the Gesta Pontificum for ecclesiastical 493 readers. In that book bishops were the main subject; kings came in only incidentally. But, when he did speak of them, he was not under the same necessity as he was in his other work of speaking of them with bated breath. In this work he treated William Rufus very much as he treated several bishops, William’s own Flambard among them. He first wrote a most severe character of him, and then cut it out altogether. The passages which thus perished in the second edition are printed in Mr. Hamilton’s notes, pp. 73, 79, 84, 104. In the first place (73) he tells us how the King, “abjecto respectu omnis boni, omnia ecclesiastica in fiscum redegit.” He was “juvenili calore et regio fastu præfervidus, humana divinaque juxta ponderans et sui juris æstimans.” But he has spoken of his ways elsewhere—​doubtless in the Gesta Regum—he will now speak of them only as occasion serves. In the next place (79) he wrote at first;

“Licet nulla Dei consideratio, nulla cujuscunque hominis sanctitas, ejus proterviam sedare possent, adeo cuncta quæ sibi dicebantur vel turbida ira vel facetis, ut sibi videbatur, salibus eludebat.”

This was too strong; in the second edition things are put in another light;

“Hoc in rege magnificum videri debet, quod qui omnia pro potestate facere posset, magis quædam joco eludebat, ad sales multa extra judicium animi transferens.”

The third passage (84) comes in the story of Anselm; the part of it which concerns us here runs thus;

“Rex in eum [Anselmum] et in omnes venabatur lites, commentabatur caussas quibus congregaret pecunias. In exactionibus sævus, in male partis dispertiendo prodigus, ibi harpyiarum ungues, hic Cleopatræ luxum, in utroque impudentiam prætendens. Si quis ei sponte quid obtulisset, nisi quantitas dati suæ conveniret menti, statim obliquo intuitu exterrebat quoad illum ad quas liberet doni conditiones adduceret.”

The last passage (104) also comes in the story of Anselm. William’s character is thus drawn;

“Protervus et arrogans, æque in Deum ut in homines rebellis, religioni Christianæ magis ex usu quam amore addictus, ut qui plures Judæos Christianos factos ad Judaismum pecuniis corruptus revocaret. Omnia fato agi credulus, nullum sanctorum nos posse adjuvare credebat et dicebat, subinde increpitans et dicens, scilicet 494 ea cura jam olim mortuos sollicitat ut nostris intersint negotiis. Proindeque, si ab apostolico excommunicaretur, in secundis haberet, qui quantum suæ conscientiæ interesset, non multum curaret si totis annis sacramentorum expers esset.”

This last passage is remarkable, as seeming to show that Rufus rather wondered that he was not excommunicated (see p. 611). And one wonders too, on reading this passage and some others (see p. 166), that no controversialist has ever claimed Rufus as a premature Protestant. Even Sir Richard Baker, a yet more loyal apologist than the author of the Gesta Regum, did not hit upon that.

William of Malmesbury then goes on to tell the story of the accused deer-stealers—​doubtless from Eadmer, to whom he so often refers—​and then gives some reasons for not enlarging further on the evil doings of Rufus. One is “quod non debeam defunctum meo premere judicio qui habet judicem præfata [sic], cui judicanti omnis attremit creatura.” The other is that it is better, for the sake of edification, to pass by evil doings, especially some kinds of evil doings; “Adulterium discitur dum narratur, et omne crimen faciendum menti male inculcatur, dum qualiter ab alio factum sit studiosius explicatur.”

Orderic is in this case less elaborate in his portrait-painting than William of Malmesbury. Some of his sayings bearing on the character of William Rufus have been already quoted. He sometimes brings him in, after his fashion, with some epithet, appropriate or quaint—“liberalis rex,” “turgidus rex,” “pomposus sceptriger,” and the like. But he twice gives something like a full-length picture. The first is at 680 A;

“In diebus illis lucerna veræ sanctitatis obscurius micabat pene cunctis in ordinibus, mundique principes cum subjectis agminibus inhærebant tenebrosis operibus. Guillelmus Rufus Albionis rex juvenis erat protervus et lascivus, quem nimis inhianter prosequebantur agmina populorum impudicis moribus. Imperiosus et audax atque militaris erat, et multitudine militum pompose tripudiabat. Militiæ titulis applaudebat, illisque propter fastum secularem admodum favebat. Pagenses contra milites defendere negligebat, quorum possessiones a suis tironibus et armigeris impune devastari permittebat. Tenacis memoriæ et ardentis ad bonum seu malum 495 voluntatis erat. Terribilis furibus et latrunculis imminebat, pacemque serenam per subjectam regionem servari valenter cogebat. Omnes incolas regni sui aut illexit largitate, aut compressit virtute et terrore, ut nullus contra eum auderet aliquo modo mutire.”

This comes just before the pious and humane speech (see p. 223), in which Rufus proposes the first war in Normandy. Towards the end of the reign of Rufus (763 C), Orderic takes up his brush again;

“Guillelmus Ruffus, militia clarus, post mortem patris in Anglia regnavit, rebelles sibi fortiter virga justitiæ compressit, et xii. annis ac x. mensibus ad libitum suum omnes suæ ditioni subjugavit. Militibus et exteris largus erat, sed pauperes incolas regni sui nimis opprimebat, et illis violenter auferebat quæ prodigus advenis tribuebat. Multi sub ipso patris sui proceres obierunt, qui proavis suis extraneum jus bellicose vendicaverunt, pro quibus nonnullos degeneres in locis magnatorum restituit, et amplis pro adulationis merito datis honoribus sublimavit. Legitimam conjugem nunquam habuit, sed obscœnis fornicationibus et frequentibus mœchiis inexplebiliter inhæsit, flagitiisque pollutus exemplum turpis lasciviæ subjectis damnabiliter exhibuit.”

There is also an earlier passage (669 A) which sets forth how William kept the peace of the land. He records the surrender of Rochester, and adds;

“Omnium qui contra pacem enses acceperant nequam commotio compressa est. Nam iniqui et omnes malefactores, ut audaciam regis et fortitudinem viderunt, quia prædas et cædes aliaque facinora cum aviditate amplexati fuerant, contremuerunt, nec postea xii. annis quibus regnavit mutire ausi fuerunt. Ipse autem callide se habuit et vindictæ tempus opportunum exspectavit.”

This of course refers to disturbers on a larger scale than common robbers. But one law applied to all. King William kept down all evil-doers, save himself and his own company.

Henry of Huntingdon (vii. 22) mainly translates the Chronicle; but he adds some touches of his own, and strengthens some of the epithets, “invisus rex nequissimus et Deo et populo,” &c. His general picture is;

“Nec respirare potuit Anglia miserabiliter suffocata. Cum autem omnia raperent et subverterent qui regi famulabantur, ita ut adulteria violenter et impune committerent, quicquid antea 496 nequitiæ pullulaverat in perfectum excrevit, et quicquid antea non fuerat his temporibus pullulavit.”

He makes also, improving the words of the Chronicler, an important addition;

“Quicquid Deo Deumque diligentibus displicebat hoc regi regemque diligentibus placebat. Nec luxuriæ scelus tacendum exercebant occulte, sed ex impudentia coram sole.”

This represents the English words (Chron. Petrib. 1100), “And þeah þe ic hit lang ylde, eall þet þe Gode wæs lað and rihtfulle mannan, eall þæt wæs gewunelic on þisan lande on his tyman.”

Somewhat later again the discerning William of Newburgh (i. 2) thus paints the Red King;

“Factum est ut … Willelmus in principio infirmius laboriosiusque imperaret, et ad conciliandos sibi animos subditorum modestior mitiorque appareret. At postquam, perdomitis hostibus et fratre mollius agente, roboratum est regnum ejus, exaltatum est illico cor ejus, apparuitque, succedentibus prosperis, qualis apud se latuisset dum premeretur adversis. Homo vecors et inconstans in omnibus viis suis; Deo indevotus et ecclesiæ gravis, nuptiarum spernens et passim lasciviens, opes regni vanissima effusione exhauriens, et eisdem deficientibus subditorum fortunas in hoc ipsum corradens. Homo typo immanissimæ superbiæ turgidus, et usque ad nauseam vel etiam derisionem doctrinæ evangelicæ, temporalis gloriæ fœdissima voluptate absorptus.”

This description, after all, is very much that of William of Malmesbury translated into less courtly language. The “magnanimitas” has now fully developed into “immanissima superbia.”

From putting together all these descriptions we get the portrait of William Rufus as one of those tyrants who keep a monopoly of tyranny for themselves and their immediate servants. He puts down other offenders, and strictly keeps the general peace of the land. His justice, in the technical sense, is strong, with of course the special exceptions hinted at by William of Malmesbury (see p. 143). There is no charge of cruelty in his own person; but he allows his immediate followers, his courtiers and mercenaries, to do any kind of wrong without punishment. He oppresses the nation at large by exactions for the pay of his mercenaries. He is withal a warlike and chivalrous king. We must take in the full 497 sense of phrases like “militiam diligens,” which mean more than simply “warlike;” the technical sense of “miles” and “militia” often comes in. He was bountiful to his mercenaries, and generally lavish. He was renowned for a quality called “magnanimitas.” He was irreligious and blasphemous. Lastly, he and his immediate company were noticed for specially foul lives, of a kind, it would seem, out-doing the every-day vices of mankind.

Some of these points call for a more special notice. The “magnanimitas” of William of Malmesbury is not exactly “magnanimity” in the modern sense, which generally means a certain grand and stately kind of mercy. The magnanimous man nowadays chiefly shows his magnanimity, not so much in forgiving wrongs as in passing them by without notice; they have hardly moved him enough for forgiveness to come in. There is something approaching to this in the “magnanimitas Willelmi” (iv. 309) shown to the knight who unhorsed him before Saint Michael’s Mount (see p. 289). But the “præclara magnanimitas” (iv. 320) shown in his voyage to Touques is of another kind. Then it is that we have the wonderful comparison, or rather identification of William Rufus and Cæsar, of which more in a later note (see Note PP). William of Malmesbury clearly means the word for praise; and it is at least not meant for dispraise when Suger, at the beginning of his life of Lewis (Duchèsne, iv. 283), speaks of “egregie magnanimus rex Anglorum Guillelmus, magnanimioris Guillelmi regis filius Anglorum domitoris.” But the word seems to have reached a bad sense when (p. 302) Count Odo is called “tumultuosus, miræ magnanimitatis, caput sceleratorum” (see N. C. vol. v. p. 74). And it is surely a fault, though it seems to be recorded with admiration, that the first Percy who held Alnwick “fuit vir magnanimus, quia noluit injuriam pati ab aliquo sine gravi vindicta” (see the Chronicle of Alnwick in the second volume of the Archæological Institute at Newcastle, Appendix, p. v). And, as it is not exactly our “magnanimous,” neither is it exactly the μεγαλόψυχος of Aristotle (Eth. iv. 3)—ὁ μεγάλων αὐτὸν ἀξιῶν ἄξιος ὤν axios ôn—though it comes nearer to it. William of Malmesbury’s “magnanimus” is perhaps Aristotle’s μεγαλόψυχος verging towards the χαῦνος. The essence of the character is self-esteem, self-confidence; a step will change him from William’s “magnanimus” into Orderic’s “turgidus.” And this comes pretty much 498 to the τετυφωμένος of the New Testament (2 Tim. iii. 4), who is not unlike William Rufus, only that he has at least a μόρφωσις εὐσεβείας. Here our version has “high-minded”—​the Revised Version has “puffed up”—​just as in the departed service for January 30 the slayers of Charles the First were called “high-minded” by those who certainly did not mean to praise them. This again is not quite the “magnanimitas” with which we have to do, which is still a virtue, though a dangerous one. Perhaps we may say that William the King really was “high-minded” in this sense, and that William the monk used a slightly ambiguous word, in order to pass him off for “high-minded” in the other sense.

The mercenary soldiers, the excesses wrought by them, and the extortion by which their pay and largesse were supplied, all come out in the words of the Chronicler that the land was vexed “mid here and mid ungylde.” That they were chiefly foreigners appears from Orderic’s phrase “advenæ,” which is doubtless opposed, not only to the “Angli naturales,” but to the companions of the Conqueror and their sons. The “advenæ” are opposed to the “incolæ,” whether the “incolæ” have been settled for one generation or twenty. So says William of Malmesbury (iv. 314);

“Excitabat ergo totum occidentem fama largitatis ejus, orientem usque pertendens; veniebant ad eum milites ex omni quæ citra montes est provincia, quos ipse profusissimis expensis munerabat; itaque cum defecisset quod daret, inops et exhaustus ad lucra convertit animum.”

Of their doings he tells us that, “soluta militari disciplina, curiales rusticorum substantias depascebantur, insumebant fortunas.” But the fullest account of their misdeeds is that given by Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 94), when he records the statute passed by Henry, when he and Anselm give their minds “qualiter aliquo modo mala quæ pauperes maxime deprimebant mitigarentur.”

“Tempore siquidem fratris sui regis hunc morem multitudo eorum qui curiam ejus sequebantur habebat, ut quæque pessumdarent, diriperent, et, nulla eos cohibente disciplina, totam terram per quam rex ibat devastarent. Accedebat his aliud malum; plurimi namque eorum sua malitia debriati dum reperta in hospitiis quæ invadebant, penitus absumere non valebant, ea aut ad forum per eosdem ipsos quorum erant pro suo lucro ferre et 499 vendere, aut supposito igne cremare, aut si potus esset, lotis exinde equorum suorum pedibus, residuum illius per terram effundere, aut certe alio aliquo modo disperdere solebant. Quæ vero in patres-familias crudelia, quæ in uxores et filias eorum indecentia, fecerint, reminisci pudet. Has ob causas quiqui, præcognito regis adventu, sua habitacula fugiebant, sibi suisque quantum valebant in silvis vel aliis locis in quibus se tutari posse sperebant, consulentes.”

Here doubtless the misdeeds of courtiers, soldiers, and camp-followers, are all mixed together; but all were in the train of the King. In short, the march of the second William through his own kingdom must have done at least as much harm as the march of the first William when he was only seeking to make it his kingdom. All these horrors undoubtedly fell on the native English more heavily than on anybody else; only I see no reason to think that, when the houses of a small English and a small Norman landowner, or the houses of the English and Norman tenants of a great landowner, stood near together, the Norman house would be respected, while the English house was plundered. The plunderers would hardly touch the house of Thurkill of Warwick any more than that of Roger of Ivry; but, among their smaller neighbours, William and Matilda would hardly fare better than Godric and Godgifu. Indeed William of Malmesbury a little further on (iv. 319) speaks of the general oppression of Rufus as one that touched all classes, “Non pauperem tenuitas, non opulentum copia, tuebatur.”

The mercenaries of the days of Rufus forestall the mercenaries of the days of Stephen and John; but, unless we are to reckon a man of the rank of Walter Tirel, we do not get such a clear notion of any particular persons among them. The phrase of Orderic, in one of the passages already quoted (see above, p. 495), about the promotion of “degeneres” in the room of the nobles of the Conqueror’s day might make us think that some of them were put in high places. But no such instances seem to be recorded. And the word “restituit” might suggest the restoration of native Englishmen, a process which may really (see p. 88) have happened to some extent after the suppression of the rebellion in 1088. But “Ordericus Angligena” would never speak of the “Angli naturales” as “degeneres.”

The dress, manners, and morals of the court of William Rufus 500 stand out clearly in several descriptions. “Tunc effeminati passim in orbe dominabantur” says Orderic (682 B, cf. 781 D), following the remark with stronger and plainer words. He is eloquent on their womanish fashion of dressing and wearing the hair;

“Ritus heroum abjiciebant, hortamenta sacerdotum deridebant, barbaricumque morem in habitu et vita tenebant. Nam capillos a vertice in frontem discriminabant, longos crines velut mulieres nutriebant et summopere curabant, prolixisque nimiumque strictis camisiis indui tunicisque gaudebant. Omne tempus quidam usurpabant, et extra legem Dei moremque patrium pro libitu suo ducebant…. In diebus istis veterum ritus pene totus novis adinventionibus commutatus est. Femineam mollitiem petulans juventus amplectitur, feminisque viri curiales in omni lascivia summopere adulantur…. Humum pulverulentam interularum et palliorum superfluo scirmate verrunt, longis latisque manicis ad omnia facienda manus operiunt; et his superfluitatibus onusti celeriter ambulare vel aliquid utiliter operari vix possunt. Sincipite scalciati sunt ut fures, occipite autem prolixas nutriunt comas ut meretrices…. Crispant crines calamistro. Caput velant vitta sine pileo. Vix aliquis militarium procedit in publicum capite discooperto legitimeque secundum apostoli præceptum tonso.”

Yet, with all this aping of female manners, the gallants of Rufus’ court did in one respect follow the law of masculine nature more closely than their immediate antecessores, either Norman or English;

“Nunc pene universi populares cerriti sunt et barbatuli, palam manifestantes specimine tali quod sordibus libidinis gaudent, ut fœtentes hirci.”

Bishop Serlo in the sermon (816 A, B) enlarges on this last comparison with much greater strength of language; and brings in another likeness, and a reason which certainly has an odd sound;

“Barbas suas radere devitant, ne pili suas in osculis amicas præcisi pungant, et setosi Saracenos magis se quam Christianos simulant.”

Seemingly the shaving of the ancient heroes of Normandy was but rare, perhaps weekly, like the bath of their Danish forefathers (see N. C. vol. i. p. 651).

Of the long hair, and what Anselm thought of it, we hear again 501 in the course of our story (see p. 449). William of Malmesbury also (iv. 314) has his say about the courtiers;

“Tunc fluxus crinium, tunc luxus vestium, tunc usus calceorum cum arcuatis aculeis inventus; mollitie corporis certare cum feminis, gressum frangere, gestu soluto et latere nudo incedere, adolescentium specimen erat. Enerves, emolliti, quod nati fuerant inviti manebant, expugnatores alienæ pudicitiæ, prodigi suæ. Sequebantur curiam effeminatorum manus et ganearum greges.”

A various reading in a note in Sir T. D. Hardy’s edition is stronger still.

In the Life of Wulfstan (Anglia Sacra, ii. 254) William tells us of the strictness of that saint in this matter, in which he gave Bishop Serlo his model;

“Ille vitiosos, et præsertim eos qui crinem pascerent, insectari, quorum si qui sibi verticem supponerent, ipse suis manibus comam lascivientem secaret. Habebat ad hoc parvum cultellum, quo vel excrementa unguium vel sordes librorum purgare consueverat. Hoc cæsariei libabat primitias, injungens per obedientiam, ut capillorum ceterorum series ad eandem complanarentur concordiam. Si qui repugnandum putarent, eis palam exprobrare mollitiem, palam mala minari.”

But it is rather hard when William of Malmesbury forgets that all this belongs to the last years of Wulfstan’s episcopate and not to the first, and when he goes on to say that the fashion of wearing long hair led to a decay of military prowess in England, and thereby to the Norman Conquest. This can be paralleled only with those astounding notions of Matthew Paris about our beards which I have spoken of in N. C. vol. iv. p. 686.

As the practice could be put down for a moment only, whether by Wulfstan, Anselm, or Serlo, William has to come back to it again in the Historia Novella, i. 4, where he tells of a momentary reform in 1129. See Sir T. D. Hardy’s note.

Some of these descriptions carry us back to earlier times, as to the picture of the “molles” at Carthage down to Saint Augustine’s day (Civ. Dei, vii. 26), “qui usque in hesternum diem madidis capillis, facie dealbata, fluentibus membris, incessu femineo, per plateas vicosque Carthaginis etiam a populis unde turpiter viverent exigebant” (only the “molles” of the Red King’s day took what they would by force). Cf. Lucan, i. 164;

About the shoes much has been written, and the fashion, in one shape or another, seems to have lasted for several ages. Orderic is quite as wrathful at this seemingly harmless folly, as he is at the other evil fashions which seem more serious. But perhaps the force lies in the passage where he says (682 C), “Pedum articulis, ubi finis est corporis, colubrinarum similitudinem caudarum imponunt, quas velut scorpiones præ oculis suis prospiciunt.” The practice seems to have been looked on as a profane attempt to improve the image of God, an argument which surely told no less strongly against the practice of the ancient heroes when they shaved themselves. With Count Fulk (682 A) one cannot help feeling some sympathy. “Quia pedes habebat deformes, instituit sibi fieri longos et in summitate acutissimos subtolares, ita ut operiret pedes, et eorum celaret tubera quæ vulgo vocantur uniones.” Yet this is very gravely set down among his many evil deeds. Then seemingly another stage took place, when (682 B) “Robertus quidam nebulo in curia Rufi regis prolixas pigacias primus cepit implere stuppis, et hinc inde contorquere instar cornu arietis. Ob hoc ipse Cornardus cognominatus est.”

A number of hints in the above passages seem to show us that the vices of Rufus were literally the works of darkness, works which even his own more outspoken age shrank from dwelling on in detail. It is hardly a metaphor when Orderic says (680 A), “In diebus illis lucerna veræ sanctitatis obscurius micabat.” For, among the reforms of Henry the First (Will. Malms. v. 393), “effeminatos curia propellens, lucernarum usum noctibus in curia restituit, qui fuerat tempore fratris intermissus.” That Henry the First could be looked on as a moral reformer is the best sign of what he had to reform. Henry, with his crowd of mistresses and bastards, is described as loathing the profligacies (“obscœnitates,” a word which seems used in a special sense) of his brother (Will. Malms. iv. 314, and specially the wonderful passage, v. 412, as to the force of which there can be no doubt), and as making it his first business on his accession to clear the court of its foulest abuses. (Cf. Mrs. Hutchinson’s account of Charles the First’s reforms, i. 127.) We must remember that no mistresses or children 503 of Rufus are mentioned or hinted at. Orderic’s phrase of “mœchus rex” is quite vague, perhaps euphemistic, and when the Welsh chronicler (Ann. Camb. 1100) says that “concubinis usus, sine liberis obiit,” he may be sheltering himself under an ambiguous word. In the Chronicle of Hugh of Flavigny (Pertz, viii. 496) is a strange legend of what the writer truly calls “inauditum seculis omnibus monstrum,” but one which could not have been devised except in the state of things which William of Malmesbury and Eadmer describe. After all (see Hen. Hunt. vii. 32; N. C. vol. v. p. 195), the reform wrought by Henry seems to have been only for a season. It is some slight comfort to hear from the mouth of Anselm, in his first protest to the King (Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 24), that the presence of Eastern vices in England was something new—“noviter in hac terram divulgatum.”

Of the blasphemies of William Rufus several instances have been given in the text. He had also, like everybody else of his time, his own special oath. As his father swore “par la resplendar Dé,” as other kings swore “per oculos Dei,” “per pedes Dei,” “per dentes Dei,” William Rufus swears (“sic enim jurabat,” says William of Malmesbury, iv. 309) “per vultum Dei,” or more commonly “per vultum de Luca.” Some of the older writers oddly mistook this for an oath by Saint Luke’s face. But the true meaning of the “vultus de Luca” was long ago explained by Ducange under the word “vultus,” where he refers to the then manuscript “Otia Imperialia” of Gervase of Tilbury, iii. 24, which will be found in Leibnitz’s collection of Brunswick writers, i. 967. The “vultus Lucanus” was held to have been made by Nicodemus from the impression of our Lord’s face taken on linen immediately after the crucifixion. This it was by which the Red King swore. In French the oath takes the form “Li vo de Luche” (Roman de Rou, line 14920). M. Charles de Rémusat (St. Anselme de Cantorbéry, 133) remarks, “Il se peut même que ce ne soit pas précisément celui de Lucques; car on appela Saint Voult-de-Lucques, vulgairement et par corruption Saint Godeln, tout crucifix habillé semblable à celui-là tel que ceux qu’on voyait jadis à Saint-Etienne-de-Sens, au Sépulcre à Paris.” But it is strange that Lappenberg (Geschichte von England, ii. 172), when telling the story of the Red King’s “magnanimitas” before Saint 504 Michael’s Mount (see p. 289 and Appendix N), brings in the oath “per vultum de Luca” in Wace’s story, where it is not found, in the form “bei dem heiligen Antlitz zu Lucca,” and afterwards in William of Malmesbury’s story in the form “bei St. Lucca’s Antlitz.”

The Ecclesiastical Benefactions of William Rufus.

I think that an examination of the cases in which William Rufus has the credit of an ecclesiastical benefactor will show that in most of them, if not in all, there is a direct or implied reference to the memory of his father. In the case of Battle and Saint Stephen’s this is plain on the surface. Of his moveable gifts to Battle some have been mentioned already (see p. 18); he also gave (Chron. de Bello, 40) considerable gifts in real property, specially the royal manor of Bromham in Wiltshire, valued at forty pounds yearly. One year’s income then was to be got back by converting the young Jew back to Judaism (see p. 163). At the dedication of Battle he gave (Chron. de Bello, 41; Mon. Angl. iii. 246) a number of churches, “pro anima patris mei regis Willielmi, et matris et omnium parentum nostrorum qui ibi in bello ceciderunt, et aliorum omnium.” The local writer, who records none of his evil deeds, gives him this character (42);

“Tantopere memoratus rex eandem amabat, excolebat, tuebaturque ecclesiam, ejusque dignitates et regales consuetudines conservabat, ut quemadmodum patris ejus tempore nullus ei adeo adversari præsumeret, ipse quoque quotiens casu vicinia peteret, ex dilectionis abundantia sæpius eam revisere, fovere, et consolari solitus fuerat.”

As for Saint Stephen’s, there is a charter in Neustria Pia, 638, of William Rufus of 1088 granting various lands in England, among them Coker in Somerset and Wells in Norfolk, with the church of Corsham in Wiltshire and other tithes. The signatures show that it is very carelessly copied or printed; but among them is “Willelmus cancellarius,” that is, William Giffard, afterwards Bishop of Winchester; see vol. ii. p. 349. We read how “glorioso patri gloriosus filius Willelmus in regnum successit,” 505 and how he made his gifts, “prædicti cœnobii utilitati prospiciens, habito procerum et religiosarum personarum Angliæ et Normanniæ consilio.”

The Waltham writer (De Inv. c. 22) has another way of looking at things. Of the Conqueror he speaks most respectfully, but adds;

“Successit ei filius Willelmus Ruphus cognomento, hæres quidem beneficiorum, sed degener morum, cui breves annos credimus indultos, quia concessis sibi beneficiis a Domino minus aptus nec ecclesiæ devotus sicut expediret, nec justitiæ strenuus executor, sed vir desideriorum eisque indulgens semper exstitit.”

The wrongs which Rufus did to Waltham are told with great fervour of declamation; and specially why he did them, namely,

“Vilia censens Anglorum instituta, nec eousque valitura quin eis eligeret ditare prædecessorum sepulturas, et ecclesiam Cadomensem ex rapina ornare, et spoliis Walthamensis ecclesiæ salubre remedium credens animarum patris et matris ibi quiescentium, si de alieno et quasi ab uno altari distracto aliud ornatur, et quasi munus gratum et valde preciosum alicui patri offerantur præcisa proprii membra filii.”

The words about English customs are meant, with whatever truth, to contrast William the Red with his father, who is praised for observing them. The plunder transferred from Waltham to Caen consisted of moveable wealth of every kind, among other things books, valued altogether at the incredible sum of 6666 pounds. The King afterwards repented, and, though the spoil stayed in the two minsters at Caen, he gave back, after the death of Bishop William of Durham (who is confounded with Walcher), that is in 1096 or later, during the vacancy, the lands which had been given to the bishopric (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 664). Dr. Stubbs (p. 50) prints a writ of William Rufus addressed “vicecomitibus suis et ministris [þegnas],” confirming to the canons of Waltham all “terras suas et consuetudines” which they held in his father’s time. It is a mere writ; but it must, as Dr. Stubbs suggests, be the occasion of the burst of joy in c. 23;

“Laudamus præsentem hunc Willelmum, qui ob reconciliandam sibi crucifixi gratiam quam offendisse plurimum non dubitamus in hujus perpetratione spoliationis, qui eam carta sua ecclesiæ confirmavit, et sub prædicto anathematis edicto, assistentibus archiepiscopis, episcopis, et universo clero, communiter roboravit.”

506 Dr. Stubbs (De Inv. 14) suggests, with great likelihood, that this robbery of the moveable wealth of Waltham was not done for the enriching of Saint Stephen’s, but that it was part of the general robbery of all churches to pay the price of Normandy in 1096 (see p. 358). And this is the more likely, because the 6666 pounds (= 10,000 marks) said to have been taken from Waltham was actually the sum paid to Robert. The Waltham writer has made some confusion in his reckoning. Still the general picture of the Red King robbing Waltham and enriching Caen holds good. For we have seen that he was a benefactor to Saint Stephen’s, and the writ seems to imply some meddling with the lands, as well as the treasures, of Waltham.

The curious story about the hospital of Saint Peter, afterwards Saint Leonard, at York, all about Æthelstan and the Culdees, and the grant of the thrave of corn which became memorable in the fifteenth century (see Lingard, iv. 163), will be found in the local history in the Monasticon, vii. 608. We read how the Conqueror confirmed everything, and then—

“Willelmus Rufus, filius Conquestoris prædicti, rex immediate succedens, fundavit seu mutavit situm dicti hospitalis in locum regium ubi nunc situatur,… et dedit et confirmavit dictas travas hospitali prædicto, sicut fecit pater ejus Conquestor.”

So Leland speaks of “Gulielmus junior, rex Angliæ, fundator hospitalis, qui etiam ecclesiolam ibidem construxit et S. Petro dedicavit.”

So the hospital of God’s House at Thetford is attributed to William Rufus, Mon. Angl. vii. 769. He is also said to have founded the nunnery of Armethwaite in Cumberland, and the foundation charter is printed in the Monasticon, iii. 270. But it is spurious on the face of it. The date given is January 6, 1089; yet Rufus is made to give grants in Carlisle which he did not yet possess, and to call himself “dux Normannorum.” He appears too in the Abingdon History, ii. 26, 284, as granting the church of Sutton to the abbey of Abingdon on the petition of Abbot Reginald. The grant has three somewhat characteristic witnesses, Robert Fitz-hamon, Robert the Chancellor, that is Robert Bloet, and our old friend Croc the Hunter.

He is also called a benefactor to the church of Rochester; but 507 it is not clear that he actually gave anything of his own cost. In the local histories (Mon. Angl. i. 161, 162, 174) we read that Rufus “reddidit et restituit Lamhethe et dedit Hedenham ecclesiæ Roffæ;” “dedit Lamtheam [hetham] et Aedenham ad victum monachorum,” &c. In p. 163 is his writ granting the manor of Stone to the church of Saint Andrew and Bishop Gundulf; and in 173, 174 he grants Lambeth and Hedenham. But Henry’s charter in the same page speaks of Lambeth and Hedenham as gifts of Bishop Gundulf to the monks, and in p. 165 Stone is held by Ralph the son, and Osmund the son-in-law, of Gilbert, who becomes a monk at Rochester. The brothers find the King a harsh lord (“ambo regis exactionibus tantum fuerunt gravati ut vix amplius hoc possent ferre. Erant enim illis diebus consuetudines regis gravissimæ atque durissimæ per totum regnum Angliæ”); they therefore suggest that the Bishop should get the manor of the King, and they will hold it of him. “Quo audito, episcopus quam citius potuit regem impigre adiit, amicorum itaque apud regem usus auxilio, tandem obtinuit quod petiit; dedit ergo episcopus Willielmo regi, magni regis Willielmi filio, xv. libras denariorum et unam mulam quæ bene valebat c. solidos.” Ralph and Osmund become the Bishop’s men for the manor—​a very good case of round-about commendation—​but presently, by an exchange of lands between them and the Bishop, Stone becomes a direct possession of the see. We have also heard something about Hedenham in N. C. vol. iv. p. 366, and William of Malmesbury also (Gest. Pont. 137) speaks of it as bought by Gundulf—“ex suo villam coemptam.” Lambeth may have been a free gift. It afterwards, as all the world knows, passed by exchange to the see of Canterbury.

There is a very curious document in the Monasticon (ii. 497) from the cartulary of Tavistock in which Rufus—“inclitæ recordationis secundus Guillielmus”—​confirms in 1096 to the abbey a manor, Wlurintun, which some said belonged to the crown. The grant of course takes the form of a gift. But the only thing which Rufus really seems to have given was an ivory knife, a symbol which is also met with in other cases;

“Sciant omnes quod rex per cultellum eburneum quod in manu tenuit et abbati porrexit hoc donum peregit apud curiam … qui quidem cultellus jacet in feretro sancti Rumoni.”

The witnesses are Bishop Walkelin of Winchester, Bishop John 508 of Bath, and Abbot Thurstan of Glastonbury. The demand had been made before commissioners sent in Lent to Devonshire, Cornwall, and Exeter—​the local capital stands apart—“ad investiganda regalia placita.” They were Bishop Walkelin, “Randulfus capellanus” (Flambard), William Capra (see him in Domesday, 110, as Chievre; he is Capra in Exon), and “Hardinus Belnoldi filius.” Is not “Belnoldus,” a strange name, a miswriting for Ednodus? See N. C. vol. iv. p. 756.

Lastly, we have elsewhere seen (see N. C. iv. 411) that William granted the manor of Bermondsey to the foundation of the Englishman Ælfwine Child. See the charter in Monasticon, v. 100. It is witnessed by the founder Ælfwine, also, between the bishops and Eudo dapifer, by “Johannes de Sumbresetta.” Is this the Bishop of Bath, not yet used to his new title?

A crowd of writs securing churches in rights already possessed, as well as simple confirmations of the grants of others, do not bear upon the matter. And we must not forget that he showed a degree of tenderness to the monks of Durham during the banishment of their bishop (see p. 299) which he failed to show to other monks. Still, in any case, the gifts of William Rufus make a poor show between the gifts of the founder of Battle and those of the founder of Reading.

Chivalry.

I refer to the remarkable passage of Sir Francis Palgrave, Normandy and England, iv. 438;

“Are we not told that ‘the Spirit of Chivalry was the parent and offspring of the Crusades?’ again that in ‘the accomplished character of the Crusader we discover all the virtues of a perfect Knight, the true Spirit of Chivalry, which inspired the generous sentiments and social offices of man?’—​the Historian might reply in the words of a great Teacher, whose voice already resounds in History—​‘I confess that if I were called upon to name what Spirit of evil predominantly deserved the name of Antichrist, I should name the Spirit of Chivalry: the more detestable for the very 509 guise of the Archangel ruined, which has made it so seductive to the most generous spirits—​but to me so hateful, because it is in direct opposition to the impartial justice of the Gospel, and its comprehensive feeling of equal brotherhood, and because it so fostered a sense of honour rather than a sense of duty.’… Take the huge folio of the Gesta Dei per Francos—​search it boldly and honestly, turn over its fifteen hundred pages, examine their contents according to the rules of moral evidence, the praises the Writers bestow, and more than their praises, their blame; their commentaries upon deeds of cruelty, and more than their commentaries, their silence—​and try how much you can extract which will justify any one of the general positions which the popular enthusiasts for Chivalry have maintained.”

The extract is from a letter of Arnold to Archdeacon Hare in 1829 (Life and Correspondence, i. 255). A note adds;

“‘Chivalry,’ or (as he used more frequently to call the element in the middle ages which he thus condemned) ‘feudality,’ is especially Keltic and barbarian—​incompatible with the highest virtue of which man is capable, and the last at which he arrives—​a sense of justice. It sets up the personal allegiance to the chief above allegiance to God and law.”

Nothing can be better; only it is not quite clear what Arnold meant by “Keltic;” continental chivalry must be carefully distinguished from devotion to the chief of the clan, though there is much analogy between the two feelings. But, as I have said elsewhere (N. C. vol. v. p. 483), chivalry is Norman rather than English and French rather than Norman; so in that sense it may be called “Keltic.”

Sir Francis Palgrave goes on to discuss one of the stories of the boasted generosity of Bayard. Like some others, it merely comes to this, that he did not act a part which would have been singularly shameful.

About chivalry and other kindred matters, I had my own say in an article on the Law of Honour in the Fortnightly Review, December 1876. But I must decline to pledge myself to Sir F. Palgrave’s condemnation of the crusades. All that he says is perfectly true of the crimes and follies in detail with which the crusades were disgraced. And in those days it would have been hard to carry out a crusade without a large measure of those 510 crimes and follies. And this might be in itself a fair argument, though not one which the age would have understood, against undertaking any crusade at all. But I must hold that the general idea of the crusade itself was something high above all chivalry. I must hold that all the crusades before the fourth, whatever we say of the way in which they were carried out, were in themselves fully justifiable, both in morality and in policy. Surely, in all that bears on this matter, it is Cohen rather than Palgrave that speaks. With all his learning and acuteness, with all his lofty and Christian morality, his deep and wide-reaching sympathy with right and hatred of wrong in every shape, my illustrious predecessor in Norman and English history was still, as a man of the East, unable thoroughly to throw himself into the Western side of a great struggle between East and West.

The Purchase of the Côtentin by the Ætheling Henry.

I have told this part of my story as I find it in Orderic, whose account seems to me to be probable, and to hang well together, while it is confirmed, not indeed in every detail, but in its leading outlines, by the account in the Continuation of William of Jumièges; that is, by Robert of Torigny. But William of Malmesbury and Wace give quite different versions. That of William is found, not in the part of his work where he records the events of the reign of William Rufus, but at the beginning of his fifth book (v. 392), where he introduces the reign of Henry with a sketch of his earlier life. While the rebellion of 1088 is going on in England, and while Robert is waiting—​waiting, our historian says, for a favourable wind—​to go to help his supporters there, Henry, by the Duke’s order, goes away into Britanny (“Henricus in Britanniam ejus jussu abscesserat”). Meanwhile Robert spends on his mercenaries the money which the Conqueror had left to Henry, which is here cut down from 5000 pounds to 3000 marks—​a mistake partly arising from a confusion between the whole sum left to Henry and the sum paid for the Côtentin (“Ille, occasione aucupata, omnem illam pecuniarum vim testamento patris adolescentulo legatam, quæ erat 511 trium millium marcarum, in stipendiarios suos absumpsit”). Then follows a very confused story, how Henry came back and passed over the wrong in silence (“Henricus reversus, licet forsitan ægre tulisset, taciturna præteriit industria”); the reason given being the restoration of peace in England (“enimvero, nuntiata pacis compositione in Anglia, deposita militia ferias armis dedere”). He then goes away into some quarter where the Duke had given or promised him lands, but he is at the same time entrusted with the keeping of the castle of Rouen (“comes in sua, junior in ea quæ frater suus dederat vel promiserat, discessit; namque et in acceptum promissa referebat, custodiens turrim Rotomagi in ejus fidelitatem.” Or can these last words mean that Henry kept the castle of Rouen in pledge till the promised lands were actually put into his hands?). Presently, on the accusation of some very bad people—​if the Bishop of Bayeux was one of them, he is not mentioned by name—​Henry is unjustly kept in ward for half a year in this same tower of Rouen (“delatione pessimorum cessit in adversum fidelitas, et nulla sua culpa in ipso eodem loco Henricus libere custoditus est, ne servatorum diligentiam [who are the “servatores”?] effugio luderet”). Then he goes by William’s invitation to England, and enters the King’s service; there William keeps him for a year, making promises which he never fulfils. Robert meanwhile sends a message promising redress, on the strength of which Henry goes back to Normandy (“post medium annum laxatus, fratri Willelmo invitanti serviturum se obtulit; at ille, nihilo modestius ephebum remunerans, plus anno inanibus sponsionibus agentem distulit. Quapropter, Roberto emendationem facti per nuntios promittente, Normanniam venit”). There he was exposed to intrigues on the part of both his brothers, which are very darkly described; but he escapes from all danger, and, by seizing Avranches and some other castles, compels Robert to make peace with him (“amborum fratrum expertus insidias; nam et rex, pro repulsa iratus, ut retineretur frustra mandarat; et comes, accusatorum lenociniis mutatus, voluntatem verterat ut blanditiis attrectatum non ita facile dimitteret. Verum ille, Dei providentia et sagaci sua diligentia cuncta evadens pericula, occupatione Abrincarum et quorundam castellorum coegit fratrem libenter paci manum dedere”). Then comes the invasion of Normandy by William, the sedition at Rouen, the death of Conan by Henry’s own hand (see p. 257). Robert then ungratefully drives 512 Henry from the city (“parum hic labor apud Robertum valuit, virum animi mobilis, qui statim ad ingratitudinem flexus, bene meritum urbe cedere coegit”). Then, without any explanation, comes the siege of Saint Michael’s Mount, which he had already described elsewhere (iv. 308). Of Domfront and Saint James we hear nothing.

There is in this account a greater attempt at chronological precision than is usual with William of Malmesbury, especially when he tells a story out of its chronological place. And the dates do not hang badly together. Henry is put in ward late in 1088 for six months. On his release he goes to England for a year, comes back, and seizes Avranches. This brings us well into 1090, the year of the vicarious invasion of Normandy by Rufus, of the sedition at Rouen, and of the death of Conan. But these dates do not agree with the more exact chronology of Orderic. According to him (672 D), Henry went to England in the summer of 1088, and came back to Normandy in the autumn of the same year (“In æstate, postquam certus rumor de Rofensis deditione citra mare personuit … transfretavit … deinde in auctumno regi valefecit”). He is at once imprisoned, and is released, as far as one can see, about February 1089. At least Orderic mentions his release as happening about the same time as the death of Durand Abbot of Troarn, on February 3 in that year (676 B, C). Moreover the order of events, both with regard to the voyage and imprisonment, is altogether changed, and the whole story is told in a different way from that of Orderic. The story about Robert taking Henry’s money contradicts the express statement of Orderic (659 D) that Henry had put his money in safe keeping; it contradicts too the implied statements of Orderic and all the other writers who describe the cession of the Côtentin to Henry as a sale, or at least as a pledge, as something in either case by which Henry paid down money and received land. And it may be hard to reconcile William of Malmesbury’s narrative here with his own statement just before (v. 391), that Henry was “paterna benedictione et materna hæreditate, simul et multiplicibus thesauris, nixus.” Nor has William of Malmesbury any distinct mention of the Côtentin, or of any other possessions of Henry, till after his release from prison. And then he represents Henry as obtaining them by force, a story which most likely comes from some confusion 513 with the later events, mentioned in p. 286. The visit to Britanny on the part of Henry which comes earlier in the story is most likely his visit to Britanny after the siege of Saint Michael’s Mount (see p. 294) moved out of its place. The whole narrative is dark and perplexed throughout, in marked contrast to the clear and careful statement of Orderic. And among the points on which William differs from Orderic the only one on which he is at all borne out by any trustworthy authority is, as we shall presently see, that by which he makes Rouen the place of Henry’s imprisonment. Yet there are one or two points on which we might almost think that William had some narrative like that of Orderic before him. Though Robert gets possession of Henry’s money in different ways in the two stories, yet in both he takes it for the same purpose, that of paying his mercenaries. And there is a certain likeness in the pictures which they both give of Henry as exposed to the enmity of both his brothers at once. It is possible that William’s version may really be an unsuccessful attempt to put together the detached facts of Orderic’s story, not necessarily of Orderic’s text.

Wace tells the story in a yet more confused way than William of Malmesbury, and with the events strangely transposed throughout. But he gives one or two details, bringing in persons of whom we hear elsewhere, which are likely enough to be authentic. When Robert is planning the invasion of England, he wants money, and for that end, pledges (14505–14520), not grants or sells, the Côtentin to Henry.

He adds that Richard of Reviers, or Redvers, left Robert’s service for that of Henry, in answer to a special request made by Henry to his brother. This is likely enough. Richard of Redvers appears once in Domesday (Dorset 83), and his pedigree is set forth in a special note by Mr. Stapleton (ii. cclxix), who corrects the belief (see Prevost on Wace, ii. 307; Ellis, i. 377) that he was a son of Baldwin of Exeter (see Norman Conquest, iv. 161). He appears in Orderic (689 C) and the Continuation of William of Jumièges (viii. 4), along with Earl Hugh of Chester, as one of Henry’s supporters in the Côtentin, and we see throughout that he was an 514 important person in Henry’s reign (see vol. ii. p. 362. Cf. Orderic, 783 D, 833 D; Mon. Angl. v. 105, in the account of Saint James’ priory near Exeter). The words in which the Duke bids Richard leave his service for that of Henry (14534–14545) are curious, and throw light on the many expressions in Domesday about the grant or invasio of a freeman and the like (see N. C. iv. 723; v. 751;

We may compare the story in Orderic, 814 B, C, where Duke Robert grants Count William of Evreux to his brother (“ei Guellelmum consulem Ebroarum cum comitatu suo et omnibus sibi subjectis concessit”), and where the Count is amazed at finding himself likened to a horse or an ox (“præclarus comes, ut se quasi equum vel bovem dandum audivit”). The thoughts of Richard, which Wace did not know, may have been much the same as those of Count William.

Robert then goes on his invasion of England, but leaves off on William’s engaging to pay him five thousand pounds yearly (14548–14871). This, I need hardly say, is pure fiction; or rather it is Robert’s expedition in the reign of Henry carried back to the reign of Rufus. On coming back to Normandy, Robert quarrels with Henry, it is not easy to see why, while William is also angry with him on account of the help in money given by him to Robert. Robert then takes possession of the Côtentin, and does not repay Henry his money (14874–14887);

Henry then defends himself on Saint Michael’s Mount, and the account of the siege follows. Henry’s voyage to England, and his imprisonment, which is said to be at Rouen, are placed later still (14754–14759).

On the other hand, the short account given by Robert of Torigny in the Continuation of William of Jumièges (viii. 2) is 515 much more nearly in agreement with Orderic. He records the bequest of five thousand pounds to Henry, with the addition that it was in English money (N. C. vol. iv. p. 854). He then mentions the cession of the Côtentin to Henry, but he is uncertain whether to call it a grant, or, with Wace, a pledge (“Robertus frater suus dedit illi comitatum Constantiensem, vel, ut alii volunt, invadiavit”). He says nothing about Henry’s voyage to England in 1088; but he mentions the slanders against Henry and his consequent imprisonment by Robert. Here comes in his only point of difference from Orderic. Orderic (672 D, see above, p. 199) makes Henry come back from England in company with Robert of Bellême; they are both seized on the sea-shore, and are shut up in different prisons;

“Quidam malevoli discordiæ satores eos anticipaverunt, et, falsa veris immiscentes, Roberto duci denuntiaverunt quod … cum rege Rufo essent pacificati, et ad ducis damnum sacramenti etiam obligatione confœderati. Dux igitur … cum Baiocensi episcopo consilium iniit et præfatos optimates præoccupavit. Nam antequam aliquid molirentur, quum securi ad littus maris de navibus egrederentur, valida militum manu missa eos comprehendit, vinculis coarctavit, et unum Baiocis aliumque Noilleio sub manu Baiocensis tyranni custodiæ mancipavit.”

Robert of Torigny, on the other hand, like Wace, makes Rouen the place of arrest; but he does not go on to say with William of Malmesbury that it was the place of imprisonment (“Inventis quibusdam vilibus occasionibus, per malorum tamen hominum suggestiones, ipsum nihil tale meditantem apud Rothomagum capiens, quod dederat indecenter extorsit”). These last words of course refer to the Côtentin, and imply an occupation of it by Robert during Henry’s imprisonment. Later events follow in much the same order as in Orderic.

The author of the Brevis Relatio, who wrote in Henry’s reign, must have drawn from the same sources as the Continuator, as the words of his short account (11) are to some extent the same. He gives a clear and terse summary of the fortunes of Henry during the reign of Rufus, which is almost his only mention of that reign. The words which at present concern us are these; “Henricus remansit in Normannia cum Roberto fratre suo, qui dedit ei quamdam terram in Normannia, sed non diutius inde 516 gaudium habuit [“Non diutius inde gavisus est,” says the Continuator]. Non multo enim tempore, inventis quibusdam vilibus occasionibus, ei illam abstulit.”

The agreement between Orderic and Robert of Torigny is the more valuable, because they clearly write from independent sources, and, as we shall see presently, fill up gaps in one another. William of Malmesbury brings in his story incidentally, and has made confusions. Wace, as is not at all wonderful, is less accurate at this part of his narrative than he was at an earlier stage. The expedition of the Conqueror was his main subject, and on that he evidently bestowed the greatest care, not only in gathering information from all quarters, but very often in sifting it. He is now dealing with the kind of time which most men in all ages know least about, the times a little before and a little after his own birth. I must confess, for my own part, that there is no part of English history in which I feel so little at home as in the administration of the Earl of Liverpool.