Chapter XXXIV: Appendix: NOTE A. p. 3 (6)

One would certainly understand this as meaning that Wulfnoth had accompanied Harold on his voyage and that he was left by him as a hostage for his own good faith. Why should not this have been the case? If, as I have suggested, Harold was accompanied on his voyage by both Wulfnoth and Hakon, if he brought Hakon back and left Wulfnoth behind as a hostage, one can easily see how the story arose about Hakon and Wulfnoth having both originally been hostages. The Norman version would represent them, as William of Poitiers does, as hostages given for William’s succession to the Crown. English writers, knowing that this at least never happened, would find some more possible occasion for the handing over of a son and a grandson of Godwine to the keeping of the Norman Duke. Such an occasion would be found in the reconciliation between Godwine and Eadward. The interchange of hostages is mentioned more than once in the course of the story, so that the notion that hostages were given by Godwine at the final conclusion of peace, though an unfounded idea, was not an unnatural one.

These then are the two views, according to both of which Harold is made to set out for Normandy with some settled purpose, either to confirm the bequest of the Crown to William or to obtain the release of his brother and nephew. The two accounts are utterly contradictory to one another, and I do not think that either will stand the test of criticism. But before I go on to the third version, I must mention the accounts given in the Roman de Rou and in the Tapestry. Honest Wace, after his manner, knowing that there were two or three stories, allows his readers to choose between them. He first tells the story of Godwine’s return, according to his notion of it. Godwine is in banishment, and the King will not let him come back unless he gives hostages for his good behaviour. He sends his son and grandson, whom Eadward sends over to William, and Godwine then returns.

“Goigne ne l’osa néer;
Tant por li Reis asséurer,
Tant por sez parenz maintenir,
Tant por sez homes garantir,
Un soen nevo et un soen filz,
K’il aveit ensemble norriz,
A en ostage el Rei bailliez.
E li Reis les a envéiez
Al Duc Willame en Normendie
Come à cil ù mult se fie:
Mandé li a k’il les gart tant
Ke il méisme li demant.”

(vv. 10579–10590.)

He then adds the significant remark, which seems to show that he had the version of William of Poitiers and William of Jumièges in his eye, that this looked very much as if Eadward intended the hostages who were nominally given for the good behaviour of Godwine to act practically as hostages for the succession of William.

“Ço fut semblant k’il voulsist
Ke toz tems cil les retenist,
Ço distrent genz, ke il péust
Sun regne aveir s’il ainz morust.”

(vv. 10591–10594.)

He then goes on to describe Godwine’s death (see vol. ii. p. 612), Eadward’s vow of pilgrimage, the foundation of Westminster, and Eadward’s intention to bequeath his Crown to William, which last he describes in language which is evidently taken from the statement put into William’s own mouth by William of Poitiers (129; see above, p. 667). He then gives a description of Harold, on whose virtues, power, and favour with the King he becomes somewhat eloquent, and fully realizes his position as the practical ruler of the whole kingdom.

“En la terre out un senescal
Heraut out nom, noble vassal;
Por sun pris è por sa bunté
Out el regne grant poesté,
Li plus fort hom fu del païs
Fort fu d’homes, fort fu d’amis,
_Engleterre out en sa baillie_
_Com home ki a senechaucie_.”

(vv. 10709–10716.)

So directly after;

“Héraut fu ben de son seignior,
Ki à feme aveit sa seror.”

(vv. 10725–10726.)

The story then goes on in much the same shape as in Eadmer. Harold’s wish to release the hostages and the warnings of Eadward are given in much the same way, with the further piece of advice from the King, that, if Harold wishes for the hostages, he should send some other messenger and not go himself. Wace then adds that he has also read another story, that namely of William of Poitiers and William of Jumièges, and that he does not profess to know which is the true one.

“Issi l’ai jo trové escrit,
Et un altre livre me dist
Ke li Reis li rova aler
Por li réalme asséurer
Al Duc Willame sun cosin,
Ke il l’éust emprez sa fin;
Ne sai mie ceste achoisin,
Mais l’un è l’altre escrit trovon.”

(vv. 10741–10748.)

So much for Wace. The Tapestry plainly shows (pl. 1) an interview between Eadward and Harold before Harold sets sail from Bosham, and another interview (pl. 7) after Harold’s return. Of these two scenes the earlier must be interpreted by the later. In that scene Harold is represented as recounting his adventures to the King with a very strange look and strange gestures, quite different from anything shown in the first interview. But Dr. Bruce’s imagination surely carries him a little too far when he says (p. 27) that “Harold comes into the presence of the Confessor like a guilty person, deploring his misdeeds and craving pardon. An axe, carried by an attendant on the left of the King, is turned towards him, apparently betokening that he has committed an offence worthy of death. The King is evidently reproving him sharply, but the attendant on the right of the King having the edge of his axe turned away from Harold, shows that the result of the interview was a pardon.” Unluckily for this ingenious theory, one of the persons who in this very plate offer the Crown to Harold carries an axe with its edge no less threateningly turned towards the person of the King-elect. Still there is no doubt that Harold enters the King’s presence with the air of one who is by no means proud of the success of his errand. His neck is stretched out in a most amazing fashion, and the whole expression is that of one whose position is exceedingly awkward. This seems to me to fit in exactly with the version of Eadmer, and I do not see how it can be made to fit in with the version of William of Poitiers. According to that version, Harold had done nothing to be afraid or ashamed of. He had simply pledged himself in a solemn way to carry out the King’s intentions. But, on Eadmer’s view of the matter, he had utterly failed, except so far as he had brought back Hakon; he had involved himself and his country in great danger, and he must have gone to the King with the unpleasant feeling that one so much his intellectual inferior had for once proved wiser than himself. This seems to me to be plainly enough expressed in the representation of the second interview in the Tapestry; I therefore accept the Tapestry as, so far, a witness in favour of Eadmer’s version, or at least in favour of some version according to which Harold went into Normandy on an errand which failed. A certain amount of confirmation is thus given to Eadmer’s statement, but I can hardly think that it is enough to counterbalance its inherent improbability in other respects.

3. I now come to the third version, that which makes Harold’s presence in Normandy wholly the result of accident. William of Malmesbury was fully aware of the version of William of Poitiers. He (ii. 228) distinctly refers to it (“ferunt quidam ipsum Haroldum a Rege in hoc”—namely to announce to William the bequest of Eadward—“Normanniam missum”), but he deliberately rejects it. The story which he prefers as nearer to the truth (“quia propius vero videtur”), and as told by those who were better informed (“alii secretioris consilii conscii”), represented Harold’s presence in Normandy or in any part of Gaul as simply caused by his being carried thither by stress of weather (“invitum, venti violentiâ illuc actum”). He set out from Bosham purely on a voyage of pleasure and for the purpose of fishing (“ut animum oblectaret suum, piscatorium conscendit navigium”). Some cause or other led him to venture to an unusual distance from land (“interim quidem longiusculo ludo in altum proceditur”), and a storm drove him to the coast of Ponthieu. According to Henry of Huntingdon, Harold was not thus merely yachting, but was going, for some cause which is not mentioned, to Flanders (“Haraldus verò transiens in Flandriam tempestate compulsus est in Ponticam provinciam,” M. H. B. 760 E). Matthew Paris (p. 1), whom I shall again have to quote, tells the tale in what, for my purpose, is the same way. Harold, still a young man, but looking forward to the Crown (“dum adhuc juvenis esset, adspirans ad regnum Angliæ”), is sailing about, and is driven by the winds to a land which he takes to be Flanders, but which proves to be Ponthieu (“sponte spatiatus, navigando raptus est vi ventorum, et dum Flandriam credidit se attigisse, compulsus venit in Pontinam provinciam”). Snorro (Johnstone, 190; Laing, iii. 75) makes Harold to have been sailing, not to Flanders, but to Wales. He seemingly looks on the voyage as part of Harold’s warfare against Gruffydd. A storm drives his ships, not to Ponthieu, but to the coast of Normandy (“þat var á eino sumri, at Haralldr Gudinason átti ferd til Brettlandz, oc fór á skipi, enn er þeir komo í hafit, þá tók þá andvidri, oc rák út í haf. Þeir tóko land vestr í Nordmandi, oc höfdo fengit storm mann-hættan”). These accounts seem independent, and of course they cannot be reconciled in detail. The important point which they have in common is that they all represent Harold’s presence in Normandy as unintentional. He is not going thither on any errand either of his own or of the King’s; he is carried either directly to Normandy, or first to Ponthieu, by a storm. If this were the true tradition, we can easily understand that various versions would soon arise as to the direction and object of his journey. Snorro’s notion, for instance, of a voyage into Wales is hardly consistent with the remarkable agreement of several versions that it was from Bosham that Harold set sail. But it is of little moment whether he was sailing to Wales or Flanders or nowhere in particular, provided he was not purposely sailing to Normandy. And that this story is the right one will, I think, appear, if we consider the way in which tales grow. They improve, they add details, they give new and fuller reasons for everything; but they seldom lop off. The fact of Harold’s presence in Normandy would call forth a thousand conjectures and speculations as to the cause of his being there. The purely negative version, which said that all these speculations were at fault, which asserted that Harold’s presence in Normandy was a mere accident, is, of all the versions, that which least bears the impress of legendary invention or adornment.

This general position is not affected by William of Malmesbury’s evident attempt to reconcile this version with that of William of Poitiers. Harold, in Guy’s dungeon, begins to devise some means of escape (“astuto pectore volvens casûs remedium”). It seems to be taken for granted that such means could come only through the help of the Duke of the Normans. He accordingly sends a man won over by great promises (“hominem promissis ingentibus sollicitatum”) with a message to Duke William. It is hard to see how a prisoner who was kept not only in ward but in fetters could have had the chance of winning over any one in this way, unless indeed the man so won over were one of his own keepers. The message is to the effect that Harold has been sent by Eadward to confirm in a more solemn way the King’s intentions in favour of William. It is assumed that Eadward had made such a disposition (see vol. ii. p. 371), and that it had been made known to William by messengers of inferior dignity; it is only the character of an ambassador which Harold is made falsely to assume for the nonce (“missum se Normanniam a Rege, ut quod minores nuntii balbutierant ipse potissimùm suâ confirmaret præsentiâ”). So Matthew Paris makes Harold falsely pretend that he was coming on an errand to the Duke’s Court, though he gives that errand a different turn from that which it takes in William of Malmesbury, one which I shall have to discuss hereafter. This is a most awkwardly devised story, even as a story, and it is of course inconsistent with the evidence by which I have shown that no disposition in William’s favour at this time can be admitted. It can only be an attempt to piece together the two versions, that of Harold’s embassy and that of his accidental presence in Normandy. He was not really an ambassador, but he pretended to be one. The attempt at joining the two stories was an awkward one, but perhaps no other attempt could have succeeded better.

The two other writers who follow a version essentially the same as that of William of Malmesbury, namely Snorro and Henry of Huntingdon, give no details of Harold’s deliverance from his prison in Ponthieu. Snorro leaves out the sojourn in Ponthieu altogether, and Henry only says, “quem [Haraldum] captum Consul Ponticus Willielmo Duci Normanniæ reddidit.” So Matthew Paris, making the act still more voluntary on Guy’s part, says, “quem captum Consul Ponticus Willielmo Normannorum Duci præsentavit.” Snorro, as I have said in the text, gives some curious details of Harold’s sojourn at Rouen; he also makes him get there in the summer, stay through the winter, and go back to England in the spring.

II. It will be seen that two distinct views as to the devise of the Crown in favour of William are involved in the first two of these three versions. According to one of them, the bequest was simply a private promise made by Eadward, when he was not yet King, that, if he ever should become King, William should succeed him. This is in itself not impossible, though it is not possible in the particular shape in which it is told us, namely as the promise of one young man to another young man. It is hardly necessary to show that such a promise as this could have no kind of force, according to the laws of England or of any other kingdom. According to the other story, the devise of the Crown took the form of an Act of Settlement, of a regular vote of the King and his Witan, confirmed by the signatures and the oaths of the four greatest men in the land. Such an act would doubtless have been valid, and it would have given William as good a claim as George the First. At the same time it must not be forgotten that all such attempts at an election before the vacancy seem to have been unpopular, and that they were very seldom carried out in practice (see vol. i. pp. 118, 533). But beyond the assertion of William’s own laureate, there is not a scrap of evidence or of probability in favour of this story, and the particular form in which it is told is chronologically impossible (see above, p. 673). William of Malmesbury, or those whom he followed, probably saw this, and therefore changed the date from some time before the death of Godwine to some time after the death of the Ætheling (see vol. ii. p. 371). He also leaves out all mention of the consent of the Witan or of the Earls, and seems to make it a purely personal act of the King. Here we get something which is barely possible, but which has no evidence and no probability in its favour. In fact neither of these statements as to the bequest to William rest on the slightest tenable ground. The third statement, that of a strictly testamentary disposal, a bequest of Eadward on his death-bed, does not appear in any writer at all near the time. The fact of the death-bed nomination of Harold was too notorious to be denied, and the adverse party generally contented themselves with asserting that the nomination was wrung from the dying King against his will. The first appearance of the notion of a death-bed bequest to William is to be found in the passage of the Hyde writer which I have already quoted (see above, p. 595), where it is said that Eadward “Regnum moriens Willelmo Comiti consobrino suo reliquit.” So the Annals of Margam (p. 3 Luard), “quia virgo decessit ... quum potiorem hæredem non haberet, Willelmo Duci Normannorum, consobrino suo, Regnum Angliæ testamento tradidit.” So Thomas Wykes, the partizan of Henry the Third, consistently enough asserts the rights of William in their fulness. He tells us (p. 22 Gale) how Eadward, “prævidens dum adhuc viveret Regnum Angliæ post mortem suam periculis et turbationibus exponendum, nobilissimum Ducem Normanniæ Willielmum le Bastard hæredem suum constituit, et Regni sui successorem, tamquam ex testamento dum adhuc viveret, assignavit ipsum.” M. Francisque Michel, in his note to Benoît (iii. 162), has collected several passages from unpublished writers taking the Norman side, which he very fairly contrasts with the genuine statements of the English writers. One only, the Chronicle of Peter of Ickham, a writer of the fourteenth century, seems worth quoting because he attempts rather ingeniously to combine two versions.

“Iste autem Edwardus, aliquando exsulatus in Normanniam, Willielmo, cognomento Bastard, Duci Normannorum, præstitit sacramentum quod si Rex, annuente Deo, foret, nullum alium præter ipsum haberet hæredem.

“Iste Edwardus, sanctus Dei confessor, absque liberis decessit quia virgo permanserat: et quum hæredem de se non haberet, Willielmo Duci Normanniæ consanguineo suo, sicut ei priùs juramento promiserat, regnum testamento dedit.”

These passages seem quite enough to show that the notion of a last will and testament in favour of William is one which was quite unknown till a later generation. I must quote one more passage in which this view is set forth, because it brings in another expression which deserves some notice. In the Chronicle of Battle Abbey (p. 2) we read, “Interea Anglicæ Regnum monarchiæ eidem Duci Willelmo, a suo consanguineo Rege Edwardo e mundo migrante, hæreditario jure delegatum relinquitur.” The expression to be noticed is that of “hæreditario jure,” which is here applied to William’s succession to the Crown. We find it also in charters of William himself and of his son William Rufus. There is one in Rymer (p. 3), where William describes himself as “Ego Willelmus Dei gratia Rex Anglorum hæreditario jure factus;” and one of William Rufus (p. 5), where he describes himself as “Ego Willelmus Dei gratia Rex Anglorum filius magni Regis Willelmi qui Regi Edwardo hæreditario jure successit.” The words “jus hæreditarium” have more than one meaning. It is possible that the Battle writer really meant to assert an hereditary right in the modern sense. He had just before said that William, “principatum proprium”—that is of course the Duchy of Normandy—“hæreditario sibi jure a patre relictum feliciter obtinuit.” And there is no doubt that William’s kindred with Eadward really was looked on by zealots in his cause as giving him some kind of hereditary claim upon England. This was certainly the belief of Henry of Huntingdon. See vol. i. p. 332. Otherwise the words “hæreditario jure” may be taken simply to mean that William was the heir of Eadward in the sense of being adopted by him. So two of the manuscript chronicles quoted by M. Francisque Michel (Benoît, iii. 163) say that Eadward “adoptavit in regnum”—“adoptavit hæredem—Willielmum Ducem Normannorum.” The words “hæreditario jure” are also used to express something which a man holds by a right which is not derived from his forefathers, but which is to be passed on to his descendants. It is even applied, as in the Cartulary of the Holy Trinity at Rouen (pp. 449 et seqq.), to property held by a corporation in absolute freehold, which will therefore pass to the official heirs, so to speak, of the existing members.

There is one more Norman version of the bequest of Eadward, which, though it rests on no early authority, is worth referring to, on account of the detail at which it is given, and because it brings in a name which we have already had occasion to mention with honour. It will be found in the History of Colchester Abbey in the Monasticon, iv. 607 (cf. Ellis, i. 415). The “internuntius” between William and Eadward was Hubert of Rye (see vol. ii. p. 249), the father of Odo, the founder of the Abbey. Eadward, finding himself sick and without heirs (“quum eò maximè cruciaretur, quod in se regium genus deficere videret”)—Eadgar is seemingly forgotten—sends Goscelin, a merchant of Winchester, who was in the habit of going on long voyages in the way of trade, on a message to Duke William. Goscelin, by his name, must have been a Norman or Frenchman, and the mention of a French merchant as settled at Winchester in Eadward’s time is worth notice. The Duke is asked to send some confidential agent (“ut aliquem dirigeret à suo latere”) to receive the King’s message for the Duke. In an assembly of Norman Barons (“facto magno procerum conventu”), the Duke seeks for some one who will go on an embassy to England. But all refuse to trust themselves among the barbarians who had wrought the death of Ælfred (“omnes recusant barbaram expetere gentem, propter illa quæ audierant facta apud Geldefordiam”). Hubert at last volunteers to go, and is thereon much praised and rewarded. He goes over in wonderful state (“cum grandi apparatu, cum pompâ magnâ, equis phaleratis et fremitu terribilibus, hominibus serico indutis et colore vestium spectabilibus”). Eadward receives him honourably, and of course gives him a grant of land (“ei primæ in Angliâ suæ mansionis villa quæ Esce dicitur, perpetuò possidenda conceditur.” The place is Ashe in Hampshire, which appears in Domesday, 47, as held by Hubert’s son Odo, but which was held T. R. E. by a tenant of Earl Harold). The business is done satisfactorily, and Hubert goes back to Normandy with the promise of the Kingdom and tokens confirming the promise (“insignia quibus Willielmus declarabatur hæres Edwardi Regis Anglorum, spatam scilicet cum capulo in quo erant inclusæ sanctorum relliquiæ, cornu de auro venatorium, et caput ingens cervinum”).

The story goes on to say that Hubert did not come with William into England because disturbances were looked for in Maine, which he was sent to quell or to hinder (“veniente Willielmo in Angliam accipere sibi regnum, quoniam a Cenomanicâ regione suspicabatur tumultus, Hubertus, quia erat promptus manu et consilio bonus, missus est illic prætendere et servare pacem”). I did not venture, without better authority, to mention this in my text at p. 384, but it is worth comparing with the seeming disloyalty of the Cenomannian knight at Senlac mentioned in p. 486.

Now, after going through all these accounts, what is the real state of the evidence with regard to the alleged promise of Eadward to William? A death-bed bequest, as we have seen, was not alleged by William or by his contemporaries. Such a bequest would be inconsistent with any of the versions of the story of Harold’s oath, all of which conceive William as asserting some right to the succession before Eadward’s last sickness. A promise made in earlier times, before Eadward’s accession, is possible, but it is by no means likely, and such a promise could not be of any legal force. An act of the King and his Witan in William’s favour is impossible in itself and is confirmed by no kind of evidence. But that there was some promise I think cannot be doubted. When I believe that promise to have been made I have already said (see vol. ii. p. 303). Here is another fact which looks the same way. In one of the manuscripts quoted by M. Francisque Michel (Benoît, iii. 164), William tells us how he reigned, “devicto Haroldo Rege cum suis complicibus, qui mihi regnum prudentiâ Domini destinatum et _beneficio_ concessionis _domini_ et cognati mei gloriosi Regis Edwardi concessum conati sunt auferre.” This is vague enough, but it suggests one hint. The feudal language employed, the words “beneficium” and “dominus”—the latter of which is applied by William to Eadward in other documents (see above, pp. 249, 555, and cf. ii. 18)—might suggest that, when the promise was made, William did homage to King Eadward as his lord and adopted father. There is but one time when this could have happened. We have here another confirmation of the view, supported by no direct evidence, but the only view which is not upset by opposing evidence, that the promise was made by Eadward, and that the homage, if there was any, was performed by William, at the time of William’s visit to England in 1051.

III. The next point is as to the time, the place, and the matter of Harold’s oath. As to the time, William of Poitiers (108) distinctly places the oath, as well as the knighthood, before the expedition into Britanny. Such seems also to be the account of Orderic (492 A-B), though his way of telling the story in the pluperfect tense takes off somewhat from the clearness of his narrative; “Heraldus ... sacramentum fecerat, ... tunc etiam Dux eumdem Heraldum in expeditione secum contra Conanum Comitem Britonum duxerat, armisque fulgentibus et equis aliisque insigniis cum commilitonibus suis spectabiliter ornaverat.” The other accounts seem to place both the knighthood and the oath after that expedition. In the Tapestry (pl. 6) we read immediately after the taking of Dinan, “Hic Willelm dedit Haroldo arma,” on this follow the words, “Hic Willelm venit Bagias, ubi Harold sacramentum fecit Willelmo Duci.” So William of Jumièges (vii. 31) and Wace (Roman de Rou, 10816) place the oath immediately after the return from Britanny, though Wace (10812; see above, pp. 228, 240) seems to place the knighthood before the expedition. As to the place, there is yet more difference than as to the time. The Tapestry clearly means to place the event in its own city, for “Bagias,” curious as the form is, can mean no place but Bayeux. So does Wace, a Canon of Bayeux (Roman de Rou, 10826). But William of Poitiers (108) places it at Bonneville (“coadunato ad Bonamvillam concilio”), in which he is followed by Benoît (36594);

“Si josta li dux son concile,
Ce sui lisant, à Bone-Vile.
Là fu li serremenz jurez,
Que Heraut meisme a devisez.”

But Orderic (492 A) places the scene of the oath at Rouen (“ipse Heraldus apud Rotomagum Willelmo Duci coram optimatibus Normanniæ sacramentum fecerat”). It is also placed at Rouen by the romantic Biographer of Harold (Chron. Angl. Norm. ii. 184 et seqq.), who adds that the oath was sworn under a very large and aged oak, which, as soon as the oath was broken, immediately lost its bark, which, as he truly adds, was “dictu mirum” and “res digna spectaculo.” He adds that he himself saw it an hundred and forty years after the event, which fixes his own date to about the year 1205.

As to the form of the oath, William of Poitiers (108) simply says, “Heraldus ei fidelitatem sancto ritu Christianorum juravit.” But, according to his manner, he implies in a later passage (131; see p. 463, note 4) that the oath was made upon relics. So Orderic (492 A); “Homo ejus factus, omnia quæ ab illo requisita fuerant super sanctissimas reliquias juraverat.” The “phylactery called ‘the bull’s-eye’” is found in the Brevis Relatio (4); “Ei, sicut multi dicunt, super filacterium quod vocabant oculum bovis quod ei fidem et promissionem quam ei faciebat bene custodiret.” The Hyde writer (290) tells us why it was called the bull’s-eye; “Infinitam sanctarum multitudinem reliquiarum deferri jussit, superque eas filacterium gloriosi martyris Pancratii, quod oculum bovis vocant, eo quod gemmam tam speciosam quam spatiosam in medio sui contineat, collocavit, certissimè sciens tantum martyrem nullâ temeritate posse deludi.” In the Tapestry (pl. 6) Harold is shown swearing between two chests or phylacteries (see Ducange in voce) of different shapes, one of which has something on the top which might fairly pass for the “gemma speciosa et spatiosa” of the Hyde writer. But in none of these accounts do we find anything about the trick played upon Harold by William. Whatever Harold swears upon, it is not at all implied that he was otherwise than fully aware of what he was doing. The tale according to which Harold is made unwittingly to take an oath of a more solemn kind than he supposed comes from Wace;

“Toz li corz sainz fist demander,
Et un liu tuz asembler;
Tut une cuve en fist emplir,
Pois d’un paele les fist covrir,
Ke Heraut ne sont ne ne vit,
Ne ne li fust mostré ne dit
De suz out une filatire,
Tut li meillor k’il pout eslire,
E li plus chier k’l pout trover:
Oil de boef l’ai oï nomer.”

(vv. 10828–10837.)

So again, after the oath has been taken;

“Quant Heraut out li sainz beisiez
Et il fu suz levez en piez,
Verz la cuve li Dus le trait,
E lez la cuve ester le fait:
De la cuve a le paesle osté,
Ki tut aveit acoveté;
A Heraut a dedenz monstré,
Sor kels cors sainz il a juré.
Heraut forment s’espoanta
Des relikes k’il li monstra.”

(vv. 10850–10859.)

I leave the reader to judge which of these two versions is the older. It is quite possible that the striking circumstance of the hidden relics, which is peculiar to Wace, may be merely an instance of the usual growth of legend. But it is no less possible that Wace, a very honest writer, may have preserved a fact which, as tending to the discredit of William and in some measure lessening the crime of Harold, was left out by two violent partizans. I leave the point in the same uncertainty in which I must leave all the other details of the story.

We now come to the matter of the oath said to have been taken by Harold. The fullest accounts of its terms are those which are given by William of Poitiers (108) and by Eadmer (5). I have in the text (p. 241) given its terms according to the accounts of these two writers. The oath, as given by William of Poitiers, runs as follows;

“Se in curiâ domini sui Edwardi Regis, quamdiu superesset, Ducis Willelmi vicarium fore; enisurum, quanto consilio valeret aut opibus, ut Anglica monarchia post Edwardi decessum in ejus manu confirmaretur; traditurum interim ipsius militum custodiæ castrum Doveram, studio atque sumptu suo communitum; item per diversa loca illius terræ alia castra, ubi voluntas Ducis ea firmari juberet; abunde quoque alimonias daturum custodibus.”

The terms in Eadmer take the form of a speech addressed by William to Harold. William mentions Eadward’s promise of the Crown to him, and goes on thus;

“Tu quoque, si mihi te in hoc ipso [the succession to the Crown] adminiculaturum spoponderis, et insuper castellum Dofris cum puteo aquæ ad opus meum te facturum, sororemque tuam quam uni de principibus meis dein in uxorem te ad me, tempore quo nobis conveniet, destinaturum, necne [necnon?] filiam meam te in conjugem accepturum fore promiseris, tunc et modò nepotem tuum, et quum in Angliam regnaturus venero, fratrem tuum incolumem recipies.”

In both these versions Harold binds himself in different terms to do all that he can to bring about William’s succession to the Crown; but William of Poitiers makes no mention of the engagements as to the two marriages, the marriage of Harold to a daughter of William and the marriage of Harold’s sister to one of William’s nobles. In a later passage however (p. 145), which I shall quote in another note (see Appendix U), he takes for granted both the marriage of Harold with William’s daughter, and also another stipulation of which we hear more distinctly in William of Jumièges (vii. 31). This is the important addition that Harold should have half the Kingdom as the portion of Adeliza (“deinde Dux postquam Heraldus fidelitatem sibi de regno pluribus sacramentis firmavit, Adelizam filiam suam cum medietate Anglici regni se daturum eidem spopondit”). William of Malmesbury (ii. 228) gives much the same account as Eadmer, but with the strange addition that Harold offered the oath of his own accord. His words are; “Ibi Haroldus, et ingenio et manu probatus, Normannum in sui amorem convertit; atque, ut se magis commendaret, ultro illi tunc quidem castellum Doroberniæ quod ad jus suum pertineret, et post mortem Edwardi Regnum Anglicum, sacramento firmavit: quare et filiæ, adhuc impubis, desponsione, _et totius patrimonii amplitudine donatus_, familiarium partium habebatur.” The words in Italics would seem to refer to some sort of commendation of Harold’s lands to William, and something of the same kind seems implied in the words with which William of Poitiers goes on with his story (109); “Dux ei [Heraldo] jam satelliti”—a common equivalent for “miles” or vassal—“suo accepto per manus ante jusjurandum terras ejus cunctumque potentatum dedit petenti.”

Wace says nothing about the castle of Dover, still less does he stoop to Eadmer’s detail about the well, but he mentions the two engagements to marry William’s daughter and to make over the Kingdom to him at Eadward’s death. He gives these terms twice;

“Entretant a li Dus parlé
Tant ke Heraut li a graé,
Ke Engleterre li liverra
Tres ke li Reis Ewart morra;
Et à moillier s’il velt prendra
Ele une fille ke il a:
Co se li plaist li jurera,
Et Willame le graanta.”

(vv. 10816–10823.)

And again in describing the actual taking of the oath;

“Poiz a juré et a prami
Si come home ki eschari:
Ele, la fille al Duc prendra,
Et Engleterre al Duc rendra;
De ço il fera son poeir
Sulunc sa force e son saveir
Emprès la mort Ewart, s’il vit;
Si veirement Dex li aït,
E li corz sainz ki iloc sont.”

(vv. 10840–10848.)

I have discussed in the text the chief points connected with the terms of the oath, and I have put forth the view which, on the whole, seems to me the least improbable. I will now get together several passages in which the promise to marry William’s daughter becomes the chief, or even the only, engagement taken by Harold. They come from writers who had not such good means of information as William of Poitiers, but who were much less likely to misrepresent or colour the story. They show what aspect of the tale most struck those who were not immediately interested in the matter. Let us begin with Snorro. The only engagement he knows of on Harold’s part is his engagement to marry William’s daughter. The proposal, as far as William is concerned, comes from Harold himself, but seemingly from Harold talked over by Matilda. The Duke does not altogether approve of the long evening talks between Harold and his wife. Matilda tells Harold that her husband is anxious to know the subject of their discourse, so it is agreed that Harold shall tell the Duke the next day. Harold accordingly asks William for his daughter in marriage, saying that he has fully talked the matter over with the Duchess, who favours his suit (“þat er at segia ydr, Jarl, atfleira býrr í hingat-komo minni, enn þat er ec hefir enn upp borit fyrir ydr. Ec vill bidia dóttr þinnar til eigin-kono mer, hefir oc þetta máll rætt fyri módor hennar optliga, oc hefir hon mer því heitit, at lidfinna þetta mál vid ydr.” Johnstone, 191; Laing, iii. 76). The suit is accepted; Harold is betrothed to the princess, but, on account of her youth, the marriage is to be put off for a time. Harold then goes to England, and comes back no more to _Welshland_ to marry the girl (“oc kom eige sídan til _Vallandz_, at vitia þessa ráds”). When Harold is elected King, William indeed bethinks himself that his kindred with Eadward gives him a better right to the Crown than Harold (“enn Vilhiálmr þóttiz betr tilkominn ríkis í Englandi, en Haralldr, fyrír frændsemis sakir þeírra Játvardar Konungs.” Johnstone, 216; Laing, iii. 94), but it is not made to appear that there was any breach of faith on this score on Harold’s part. William invades England, partly to assert his hereditary right to the Crown, partly to punish Harold for not marrying his daughter (“þat var oc med, at hann þóttiz eiga at giallda Haralldi svívirding, er hann hafdi slitit festamálom vid dóttur hans”).

So in the Cartulary of Saint Bertin, in a passage already quoted, we read (p. 197) how “Willelmus, Comes Nortmanniæ.... Angliam petiit, ac Haroldo ipsius terræ [Rege?] occiso, _eo quod filiam ipsius Wilhelmi in uxorem recipere recusaverit_, Anglos gravi prœlio, multorum sanguine fuso, sibi subjugavit, et utrique populo Anglico et Nortmannico regnavit.” Here the only reason given for William’s attacking England is Harold’s neglect to marry his daughter. No other was known to the author of the Chronicle of Saint Andrew’s at Cambray, who wrote in 1133. Here (Pertz, vii. 537) William is described as invading England without any apparent reason, till we reach the words “Rex Anglorum Heroldus, olim contra prædictum Comitem Willelmum perjurus, nam filiam ejus se accepturum juraverat.” The Waltham writer “De Inventione” (cap. 20) is in the like case; “Insidiantibus ei perfidis Normannorum versutiis, quia filiam Willelmi Ducis Normannorum nuptui traditam contempsit.” These “versutiæ” exactly describe the sort of constraint under which I conceive Harold to have made the whole engagement.

These accounts mention no ground at all for the invasion except Harold’s refusal to marry William’s daughter. Other accounts, without going so far as this, put the question of marriage forward in a very remarkable way, as if everything else was incidental. This is the case in the version of the messages between William and Harold which is given by Eadmer and Simeon. William’s main object is to demand Harold’s sister and to require Harold to marry his daughter. Other matters are quite secondary. “Venit nuntius in Angliam a præfato Willelmo directus, expetens sororem Haroldi, juxta quod convenerat Willelmo et illi. _Alia etiam quæ, violato sacramento, servata non erant, calumniatus est_” (Eadmer, 5). And afterwards, “iterum ei amicâ familiaritate mandavit quatenus, aliis omissis, servatâ fidei sponsione, saltem filiam suam uxorem duceret.” (Simeon reads, “ut quamvis violatâ fide cætera non servâsset, si tamen filiam suam duceret uxorem, _leviter ferret_.”) Harold, in his answer, does undoubtedly speak of the Kingdom and of the castle of Dover, but these subjects are thrust in between his answers about the two marriages, how his sister is dead—does the Duke wish for her corpse?—and how he cannot marry a foreign wife without the consent of the Witan. Throughout this story William is made much more anxious to find a husband for his daughter than to find a Kingdom for himself. This must surely come from some account like that of Snorro and the other writers quoted above, which spoke of the marriage only, and which has been mixed up with the account given by William of Poitiers.

It will be remembered that, in the wild account of Eadward’s death-bed given in the French Life (see above, p. 589), everything is made to turn on an expected marriage between Harold and William’s daughter. It is on that marriage that he is made to ground his hopes of the Crown. In the account in Matthew Paris (p. 1) again, the marriage comes first. Harold, carried to Ponthieu by accident, and handed over by Guy to William, pretends that he is come secretly into Normandy to make a league with the Duke and to marry his daughter (“Haraldus asserebat se hæc omnia sponte fecisse, ut clam veniens in Normanniam confœderaretur Duci, filiam ejus in sponsam accepturus”). This he swears to do on the relics of the saints (“quod et juravit super sanctorum multorum reliquias se fideliter ad quemdam terminum completurum”). Harold and William, hitherto enemies, now become great friends, all the more so because Harold has come secretly (“tantò igitur majori honore susceptus est quantò secretiùs adventâsset; fuerant enim ante inimici ad invicem”). Then, as something quite secondary, comes the oath about the Kingdom; “Juravit insuper se post mortem Regis Edwardi, qui jam senuit sine liberis, regnum Angliæ Duci, qui in regnum jus habuit, fideliter conservaturum.” There is no explanation of the alleged right of William, no mention of any bequest by Eadward. Matthew had surely read some account which mentioned the promise of marriage only, and he added the bit about the Kingdom in deference to the more usual statement.

Lastly, we have that most singular account in the Hyde writer (288–90), to which I have already (see above, p. 686, and vol. ii. p. 519) had to refer. According to this version, hostages, one of them a son of Godwine, were given to William for the safety of Eadward, when the English embassy came to offer him the Crown on the death of Harthacnut. If any one chooses to accept this statement, here is a ready way of accounting for the other stories about the hostages. And though I do not think it likely that a son of Godwine was given as a hostage to William at that time, it is distinctly less unlikely than that he should have been so given at the time of Godwine’s return. But in this account the hostages are not spoken of again. Harold, sailing to some place not mentioned (“quibusdam caussis navem ingressus”), is driven by adverse winds to Ponthieu; he is imprisoned by Guy, and set free at the prayer (“precibus”) of Duke William. The Earl and the Duke, according to this account, appear, not as the old enemies which Matthew Paris calls them, but as old friends (“ab eodem [Willelmo] optimè cognitus [Haroldus] in multis familiariter est habitus”). They agree at last that, as William’s cousin King Eadward has no heir, Harold shall receive the Kingdom of England on condition of marrying William’s daughter and, it would seem, of holding the Kingdom as a fief of his father-in-law. Such seems to be the meaning of the words, “Ad hoc inter eos sermo progressus est, ut quia Edwardus Rex Anglorum, consobrinus Comitis Willelmi, hæredem non habebat, regnum Anglorum Willelmus Haroldo concederet eo tenore, ut filiam ipsius matrimonio acciperet, eique per omnia fideliter [fidelis?] exsisteret.” Harold agrees so readily that William, who did not easily trust Englishmen, becomes suspicious, and binds him by an oath (“quod quum promptissimè annueret, ab eodem _Anglorum fidem suspectam habente_ ad districta sacramenta est coactus”). The phylactery of Saint Pancras, already spoken of, is accordingly brought, and Harold swears on it “se omnia, scilicet sicut fuerat postulatus, constantissimè se servaturum et Normannis fidelem affuturum.”

Now it is singular when, after this, we read in the same account (see above, p. 595) that Eadward on his death-bed left the Crown to William, and that Harold usurped it. This hardly fits in with an agreement between Harold and William that Harold should have the Crown on certain conditions. But the account which this writer (291) gives of the messages between the two princes exactly fits in with his account of the oath. William calls on Harold to do what he has promised to do (“ut sacramentorum in Normanniâ gestorum reminiscens, fœdus quod juraverat persolveret”), that is, doubtless, to marry his daughter and do homage for the Kingdom. Harold’s answer is that he has no need of any kind of connexion or intercourse with the Normans, and will therefore not perform his oath (“remandat Haroldus Normannorum societatem non esse Anglis necessariam, et ideò nullum ei juramentum persolvere, nullum cum eo consortium habere”). Of resigning the Kingdom there is not a word.

The reader will by this time know the peculiar position of the Hyde writer. His accounts are often strange and incredible, and contradicted by better authorities. But they are always independent. The writer is no servile copyist. He followed independent traditions and exercised an independent judgement of his own. His statements therefore have a certain value. And in this case they have more value than usual, as, though his prejudices are strongly Norman, his story points to a tradition quite different from the received Norman version.

Putting then together the hints of these various writers, combined with the probability of the case, I am led to the view which I have suggested in the text. Harold’s oath was primarily an oath to marry William’s daughter, and this oath, or perhaps his knighthood, was accompanied by an act of homage to William. He became his “satelles” in the language of William of Poitiers, his “homo” in the language of Orderic. I have shown in the text how vague and lax were the obligations thereby incurred. But such an act obviously lay open to many interpretations. Harold would doubtless hold that whatever obligations were imposed either by gratitude or by formal vassalage would be amply fulfilled by his services in the Breton war and by continued friendly relations with Normandy. But nothing would be easier than for William to magnify the simple obligation of homage into a promise to hold the English Crown in fief or to make it over to William himself. Out of such a groundwork as this the elaborate Norman story could easily grow up. But if Harold expressly promised all that William of Poitiers makes him promise, it is not easy to see how the engagement to marry William’s daughter could ever, in so many versions of the tale, including some distinctly favourable to the Norman side, have usurped the place which would have properly belonged to the more important engagements about the Kingdom.

I will now, by way of relaxation, wind up this part of my subject with the most wonderful tale of all, that with which Gervase of Tilbury amused the Imperial leisure of Otto the Fourth. I will give only a summary, referring the reader to the original of the “Otia Imperialia,” Decisio Secunda, cap. xx., which will be found in Leibnitz’ collection of Brunswick historians, vol. i. p. 945.

The holy King Eadward left as his heir his nephew Harold, a prince whose virtues are set forth in the most glowing terms. In his boyhood he had been sent by his uncle for education to Normandy, according to the use of the English nobles, who commonly sent their sons into France, to learn the use of arms, and to lay aside the barbarism of their native tongue. The reigning Duke had a bastard son named William, who was brought up as his heir. The two lads formed a boyish friendship, and promised to marry each other’s sisters. King Eadward and the unnamed Norman Duke die about the same time; Harold succeeds his uncle in England, and William, after some opposition, succeeds his father in Normandy. The new Duke sends a message to the new King, calling on him to fulfil his promise by an exchange of sisters. Harold has now no mind for either marriage, but his own marriage with William’s sister is brought about by an accident. The King of the English sets out with a few companions on a yachting expedition. Stress of weather drives him to Flanders—we should surely read that, intending to go to Flanders, he was driven to Normandy—there he pretends that he is come to carry out his promise as to both marriages. He does marry the Duke’s sister, and takes her with him to England, and again promises to send his own sister to the Duke. Once at home again, he neglects his promise, and, puffed up with pride, he invades Scotland and defeats the Scots in a stoutly contested battle. Directly after this, he hears that William has landed in the south of England, and hastens to attack him. The Normans, few in number and fearing Harold’s prowess, defend themselves with a dyke. But God, who can conquer by few as well as by many, overthrows the proud English, whose King is either killed or escapes by flight. William then marches on London, marries Harold’s sister, and reigns over England by virtue of the marriage.

This is altogether the wildest of all the tales that I have come across. I need not stop to point out all its blunders, anachronisms, and confusions. The most amusing perhaps is the story of Harold’s youthful sojourn in Normandy. This is evidently a confusion between Harold and Eadward, and the reason which is given must be one which belonged to Gervase’s own day rather than to Eadward’s. But even this amazing fable is worth a moment’s thought, as it shows how strong the tradition was that some question about a marriage of some kind or other was the primary ground of quarrel between Harold and William.

IV. I have given in the text as the probable date of Harold’s visit to Normandy the only date which seems possible, namely 1064. Mr. St. John (ii. 226 et seqq.), who rejects the story altogether, enlarges on the varying statements as to the date. The earliest accounts give no date; some seem to place it very soon after the death of Godwine, others, sometimes indeed the same, place it very soon before the death of Eadward. The writers seem not to have stopped to think that these two events were thirteen years apart. Mr. St. John says, very truly, though with a curious confusion of the respective dates and values of his authors,

“Bromton, p. 947, places it in the fourteenth year of Edward, that is, A.D. 1056; Matthew of Westminster and Roger of Wendover in A.D. 1059; Henry of Huntingdon A.D. 1063; Ranulph Higden, iii. 283, in 1064; Hoveden, Malmesbury, Hemingford, Wace, Simeon of Durham, run through the whole gamut of chronology from the period immediately succeeding the death of Godwin to the period immediately preceding the death of Edward, so little possible did they find it to give any stability or coherence to their fable.”

He then goes on;

“Modern historians, discovering insuperable objections to all the earlier dates, imagine there are fewer obstacles in the way of adjudging the voyage to the last year of Edward’s reign. The selection seems unfortunate. At the time of the expedition against Conan the corn is said to have been almost ripe in the fields, which in Bretagne is never the case till towards the end of August or the beginning of September. Now from the most unimpeachable of all testimonies, we know that Harold was in Wales during the summer of A.D. 1065, overlooking the erection of the hunting-palace which he undertook to build for the pleasure of his brother-in-law. We may infer, though it is not stated, that Harold left Wales sometime before the end of August, because on the 24th of that month Caradoc, son of the murdered king Griffith, whose widow Harold had married, exterminated the earl’s workmen, and put a period to the construction of the palace. Immediately after this, that is, early in September, the insurrection took place in Northumbria, when Harold was at hand, ready at the King’s request to negotiate with the rebels at Northampton.

“From this view of the occurrences of A.D. 1065, it seems difficult, if not impossible, to imagine an unoccupied interval lying between midsummer and autumn long enough to admit of our crowding into it all the events which are said to have occurred during Harold’s imprisonment at Ponthieu and forced detention in Normandy.”

These arguments are, I think, decisive against 1065. Mr. St. John places the Northumbrian revolt in September instead of in October; still the English events of the autumn of 1065 hardly leave time for Harold’s captivity at Beaurain, his sojourn at Rouen, and his warfare in Britanny. But Higden’s date of 1064 seems open to no objection. Florence (see vol. ii. p. 474) certainly carries the Welsh war into that year; but the Chronicles leave it an absolute blank. At the same time, as I have already said, I do not commit myself to the date or to anything else. Mr. St. John’s arguments, though often expressed with needless violence, have throughout great weight as against the details of the story. But I still think that the story must have had some groundwork of truth, and I have tried to show what that groundwork may have been.

V. It would be an interesting question, how far Harold’s obligations to William, whatever they were, were known in England either before or after Eadward’s death. But this is a point on which we have absolutely nothing to guide us. I know of no writer who has anything to say on the subject, except the romantic Biographer of Harold, whom I have quoted in p. 601.

I have thus done what I could to throw light on the most perplexing question in my history, one of the most perplexing questions in all history. I shall not be surprised if I am thought to have only made what was before dark darker still. But no one can conceive how thick the darkness really is except by groping in it, as I have done, in his own person.

NOTE S. p. 221.

THE ÆLFGYVA OF THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY.