Chapter XXVIII: Appendix (5)

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

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

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

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

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

NOTE W. p. 351.
THE DEATH OF EARL GODWINE.

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

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

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

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

“Eodem anno, dum secunda paschalis festivitatis celebraretur feria Wintoniæ, Godwino Comiti, _more solito_ Regi ad mensam assidenti, suprema evenit calamitas, _gravi etenim morbo ex improviso percussus_, mutus in ipsâ sede declinavit. Quod _filii ejus, Comes Haroldus, Tosti, et Gyrth videntes_, illum in Regis cameram portabant, sperantes eum post modicum de infirmitate convalescere; sed ille expers virium, quintâ post hæc feriâ, _miserabili cruciatu_ vitâ decessit, et in veteri monasterio sepultus est.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gwine poiz remist issi,
Li Reiz en paiz le cunsenti.
Jo ne sai cumbien i dura,
Maiz jo sai bien k’il s’estrangla
D’un morsel ke li Roiz chigna
Al’ aünie ù il mainga.”

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

NOTE X. p. 362.
THE WAR WITH MACBETH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOTE Y. p. 370.
THE MISSION OF EALDRED AND THE RETURN OF THE ÆTHELING EADWARD.

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOTE Z. p. 379.
THE SUPPOSED ENMITY BETWEEN HAROLD AND TOSTIG.

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

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

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

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

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

“Priscis nota satis tua sic contagia _ludis_.
Invidus hic prolis fraternæ fœda Thyestes
Prandia dat fratri depasto corpore nati.”

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

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

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

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

“Tostus of Cumbirland retted Godwyn þer tille.
Tostus of Cumbirland he was chefe Justise,
Ageyn þe erle Godwyn he gert sette assise.
Gospatrike’s dede on Godwyn wild he venge,
Harald souht Tostus, to leue þat ilk challenge.
He praied him for luf, in pes lat him be stille,
And kisse and be gode frende in luf and in a wille.
Tostus wild not leue, bot held on his manace,
And Harald tened withalle, of lond he did him chace.”

NOTE AA. p. 391.
ÆTHELSTAN, BISHOP OF HEREFORD.

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

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

NOTE BB. p. 416.
THE FAMILY OF LEOFRIC.