Chapter XXI: Appendix: NOTE A. Vol. i. p. 11 (1)

THE ACCESSION OF WILLIAM RUFUS.

The remarkable thing about the accession of William Rufus is that it is the one case in those days in which a king succeeds without any trace of regular election, whether by the nation at large or by any smaller body. The ecclesiastical election which formed part of the rite of coronation was doubtless not forgotten; but there is no sign of any earlier election by the Witan, or by any gathering which could call itself by their name. Lanfranc appears as the sole actor. One account, the Life of Lanfranc attached to the Winchester Chronicle, speaks of the archbishop in so many words as the one elector; “Mortuo rege Willielmo trans mare, filium ejus Willielmum, sicut pater constituit, _Lanfrancus regem elegit_, et in ecclesia beati Petri, in occidentali parte Lundoniæ sita, sacravit et coronavit.” The words of Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 13) are almost equally strong;

“Defuncto itaque rege Willielmo, successit ei in regnum,
Willielmus filius ejus, qui cum regni fastigia fratri suo
Roberto præripere gestiret, et Lanfrancum, _sine cujus
accensu in regnum ascisci nullatenus poterat_, sibi in hoc
ad expletionem desiderii sui _non omnino consentaneum_
inveniret, verens ne dilatio suæ consecrationis inferret ei
dispendium cupiti honoris,” &c.

William of Malmesbury too (iv. 305) goes so far as to say;

“A patre, ultima valetudine decumbente, in successorem
adoptatus, antequam ille extremum efflasset, ad occupandum
regnum contendit, moxque _volentibus animis provincialium
exceptus_, et claves thesaurorum nactus est, quibus fretus
totam Angliam animo subjecit suo. Accessit etiam favori
ejus, _maximum rerum momentum_, archiepiscopus Lanfrancus,
eo quod eum nutrierat et militem fecerat, quo auctore et
annitente,… coronatus,” &c.

Neither of these writers follows any strict order of time. The willing assent of the people may mean either their passive assent at his coming, or their more formal assent on the coronation-day. The general good-will shown towards the new king is set forth also by Robert of Torigny (Cont. Will. Gem. viii. 2; “susceptus est ab Anglis et Francis”), by the author of the Brevis Relatio (11) in the same words, and by the Battle writer (39); “omnium favore, ut decebat, magnifice exceptus.”

If then we accept Eadmer’s words in their fulness, the only objection made at the time to Rufus’ accession came from his special elector, Lanfranc himself. This incidental notice, implying that Lanfranc did hesitate, is very remarkable. We are not told the ground of his objections. But of whatever kind they were, they were overcome by the new King’s special oath, in which the formal words of the coronation bond seem to be mixed up with oaths and promises of a more general kind;

“Cœpit, tam per se tam per omnes suos quos poterat, fide
sacramentoque Lanfranco promittere justitiam, æquitatem, et
misericordiam, se per totum regnum, si rex foret, in omni
negotio servaturum; pacem, libertatem, securitatem,
ecclesiarum contra omnes defensurum, necne præceptis atque
consiliis ejus per omnia et in omnibus obtemperaturum.”

We may compare the special promise of Æthelred on his restoration (N. C. vol. i. p. 368) to follow the advice of his Witan in all things.

* * * * *

The first signs of any thought of usurpation or the like in the accession of Rufus may be dimly seen in the Hyde writer (298); where however stronger phrases are, oddly enough, applied to Robert;

“Defuncto rege Willelmo et sepulturæ tradito, Willelmus
filius ejus in Angliam transvectus regnum _occupat, regemque
se vocari omnibus imperat_; Robertus quoque frater ejus
regressus a Gallia, Normanniam _invadit_, et nullo
resistente ditioni suæ supponit.”

By the time of William of Newburgh men had found out the hereditary right of the eldest son. He says, first (i. 2), that Robert succeeded in Normandy, William in England, “ordine quidem præpostero, sed per ultimam patris, ut dictum est, voluntatem commutato.” Directly after, the rebels of next year favour Robert, “tanquam justo hæredi et perperam exhæredato” (cf. Suger, Duchèsne, iv. 283, “Exhæredato majore natu Roberto fratre suo”). And presently, we hear of “frater senior Robertus, cui nimirum ordine naturali regni successio competebat.” All this is odd, when we remember how well in the next chapter (see vol. i. p. 11) the same author understands the position of Henry, as the only true Ætheling, son of a king. Oddly enough, Thomas Wykes (Ann. Mon. iv. 11) gives this last position to Rufus, “quem primum genuit [Willelmus le Bastard, rex Angliæ] postquam regnum adquisivit.”

Matthew Paris (Hist. Angl. i. 34, 35), as usual, gives the story a colouring of his own, which may be compared with his version of the accession of Henry the First (see N. C. vol. v. p. 845). He has told us that the Conqueror, in bequeathing his kingdom to his second son, gave him special advice as to its rule;

“Willelmo Rufo filio suo Angliam, scilicet conquestum suum,
assignavit; supplicans ut Anglos, quos crudeliter et veluti
ingratus male tractaverat, mitius confoveret.”

He crosses to England, “utilius reputans regnum sibi firmare vivorum quam mortui cujuscumque exsequiis interesse.” Then we read;

“Willelmus, cognomento Rufus, filius regis Willelmi primi,
veniens in Angliam, consilio et auxilio Lamfranci
Cantuariensis archiepiscopi, qui ipsum a primis annis
nutriverat et militem fecerat, sine moroso dispendio Angliam
sibi conciliatam inclinavit, nec tamen totam. Sed ut
negotium regis optatum cito sortiretur effectum, ipsum die
sanctorum Cosmæ et Damiani, _etsi cum sollemnitate
mutilata_, coronavit, veraciter promittentem ut Angliam cum
modestia gubernaret, leges sancti regis Edwardi servaturus,
et Anglos præcipue tractaret reverenter.”

These remarkable words must be taken in connexion with what immediately follows, which is in truth a very rose-coloured version of the rebellion of 1088, which is made immediately to follow, or rather to accompany, the coronation. For the next words are;

“Verumtamen quamplures Anglorum nobiles, formidantes et
augurantes ipsum velle patrissare, noluerunt ei obsecundare,
sed elegerunt potius Roberto, militi strenuissimo, militare,
et tamquam primogenito ipsi in regem creato famulari, quam
fallacibus promissis Rufi fidem adhibere. Sed Lamfrancus hæc
sedavit, bona promittens.”

Still the new King sees that many of the nobles of the kingdom are plotting against him. By the advice of Lanfranc therefore he gathers a secret assembly of English nobles (“Anglorum nobiliores et fortiores invitando secretius convocavit”); he promises with an oath on the Gospels to give them good laws and all the old free customs (“pristinae libertatis consuetudines”). He then wins over Roger of Montgomery, according to the account in vol. i. p. 61. Then, again by Lanfranc’s advice, he divides and weakens the English by his promises (“omnes Anglos, quos insuperabiles, si fuissent inseparabiles, cognoverat, talibus sermocinationibus et promissis dissipatos et enervatos sibi conciliavit”). A few only resist; against those he wages a successful war at the head of the nation generally (“eorum conamina, universitatis adjutus viribus, quantocius annullavit”), and confiscates their goods.

It is clear that Matthew Paris had the elder writers before him, but that he did not fully understand their language with regard to the appeal of Rufus to the English. We must remember the time when he wrote. In his day the immediate consequences of the Conquest had passed away; the distinction of “Angli” and “Franci,” so living in the days of Rufus, was forgotten. But men had not yet begun to speculate about “Normans and Saxons,” as Robert of Gloucester did somewhat later. Moreover Matthew was used to a state of things in which a king who, if not foreign by birth, was foreign in feeling, had to be withstood by an united English nation, indifferent as to the remoter pedigree of each man. He therefore told the story of the reign of Rufus as if it had been the story of the reign of Henry the Third. All are “Angli;” the distinction drawn by the Chronicler between the “French” who rebelled against the King and the “English” to whom he appealed, is lost. The English people whom he called to his help against the Norman nobles become English nobles whom he cunningly wins over in secret. Matthew understands that England was a conquered country with a foreign king; he does not understand the relations of foreigners and natives in the island, and that the foreign king appealed to the natives against his own countrymen. The passage is most valuable, not as telling us anything about the reign of William Rufus, but as showing us how the reign of William Rufus looked when read by the present experience of the reign of Henry the Third.

At the same time Matthew Paris must have had something special in his eye, when he spoke of the coronation rites of William Rufus as being in some way imperfect. Was there any tradition that, as John did not communicate at his coronation, so neither did William? Men may have argued from one tyrant to another.

On the whole we may say that William Rufus, like Servius Tullius (Cic. de Rep. ii. 21), “regnare coepit, non jussu, sed voluntate atque concessu civium.”

* * * * *

Besides these accounts, given by contemporary or nearly contemporary writers, or founded on their statements, there is another version of William’s accession, which I take to be wholly mythical. This is preserved in the local history of Colchester abbey (Monasticon, iv. 607). In this the accession of Rufus is said to have been almost wholly brought about by Eudo the _dapifer_, the son of Hubert of Rye. It seems to be a continuation of another legend (see N. C. vol. iii. p. 683), in which Hubert is made the chief actor in the bequest of the crown which Eadward is said to have made in favour of the elder William. It is in short a family legend, devised in honour of the house of Rye. The same part is played in two successive generations; the father secures the crown for the elder William, the son for the younger. First of all, we are told of the way in which Eudo gained his office of _dapifer_, an office which the witness of Domesday shows that he really held. The story is almost too silly to tell; but it runs thus. William Fitz-Osbern, before he set out to seek for crowns in Flanders, held the post of “major domus regiæ.” In that character he was setting a dish of crane’s flesh before William, and, as it was ill-cooked (“carnem gruis semicrudæ adeo ut sanguis exprimeretur”), the King aimed a blow at him. Eudo, as though he had been Lilla saving Eadwine from the poisoned dagger of Eomer, thrust himself forward and received the blow which was meant for the Earl of Hereford. William Fitz-Osbern accordingly resigns his office, asking that Eudo may succeed him in it. We hear no more till William’s death, when Eudo appears as exhorting William Rufus to hasten and take possession of the English crown (“Eudo, arrepta occasione ex paterna concessione, Willelmum juniorem aggreditur, et ut negotio insistat hortatur”). They cross over together, and are made to land at _Worcester_――_Portchester_ must be meant, through some confusion of _p_ and ƿ. Thence they go to Winchester, and get the keys of the treasure-house by favour of its keeper, William of Pont de l’Arche, a person whom I cannot find in Domesday (“In Angliam transvecti, appliciti _Worcestriæ_ comparato sibi favore Willielmi de Ponte-arce, claves thesauri Wintoniæ suscipiunt quarum idem Willielmus custos erat”). Not only the coming of the younger William, but the death of the elder, is carefully kept secret, while Eudo goes to Dover, Pevensey, Hastings, and the other fortresses on the coast. Pretending orders from the King, he binds their garrisons by oaths to give up the keys to no one except by his orders (“fide et sacramento custodes obligat nemini nisi suo arbitrio claves munitionis tradituros … prætendens regem in Normannia moras facturum, et velle de omnibus munitionibus Angliæ securitatem habere, per se scilicet qui senescallus erat”). He then comes back to Winchester; the death of the King is announced, and, while the peers of the realm are in Normandy debating about the succession to the crown, William Rufus is, through the diligence of Eudo, elected and crowned (“acceleratoque negotio, Wintoniam redit; et tunc demum regem obiisse propalat. Ita dum cæteri proceres de regni successione tractant in Normannia, interim studio et opera Eudonis, Willielmus junior in regem eligitur, consecratur, confirmatur, in Anglia”). The story goes on to say that the people of Colchester petitioned the new King that they might be put under the care of Eudo. To this William gladly agreed, and Eudo ruled the town with great justice and mercy, relieving the inhabitants from their heavy burthens, seemingly by the process of taking to himself a large amount of confiscated land and paying the taxes laid upon the town out of it (“causas cœpit inquirere, sublevare gravatos, comprimere elatos, et in suis primordiis omnibus complacere. Terras damnatorum, exlegatorum, et pro culpis eliminatorum, dum nemo coleret, exigebantur tamen plenaliter fiscalia, et hac de causa populus valde gravabatur. Has ergo terras Eudo sibi vindicavit, ut pro his fisco satisfaceret et populum eatenus alleviaret”).

The share taken by Eudo in the accession of William seems to be pure fiction. His good deeds at Colchester are perfectly possible; but the latter part of the story seems to be a confusion or perversion of an entry in Domesday (ii. 106), which rather reads as if Eudo had become possessor, and that in the time of the elder William, of the common land of the burgesses (“Eudo dapifer v. denarios et xl. acras terræ quas tenebant burgenses tempore R. E. et reddebant omnem consuetudinem burgensium. Modo vero non reddunt consuetudinem nisi de suis capitibus”). This looks as if the burgesses had hitherto paid the royal dues out of their corporate estate, but that, when that estate passed to Eudo, a poll-tax had to be levied to defray them.

NOTE B. Vol. i. p. 24.

THE BEGINNING OF THE REBELLION OF 1088.

Of the great revolt of the Normans in England against William Rufus we have three accounts in considerable detail, in the Chronicle, in Florence, and in Orderic. The Chronicle and Florence do not follow exactly the same arrangement, but I do not see any contradiction between them. Florence simply arranges his narrative in such a way as to give special prominence to his own city and his own bishop. But Orderic, from whom we get a most vivid, and seemingly quite trustworthy, account of certain parts of the campaign, seems to have misconceived the order of events in the early part of the story, especially with regard to the time of Bishop Odo’s coming to England. According to him, Odo did not come to England till after Christmas. He then comes, along with Eustace of Boulogne and Robert of Bellême, as the agent of a plot already devised in concert with Duke Robert for the death or deposition of his brother. The others join them, and the rebellion begins.

In the other version, that of the Chronicle and Florence, illustrated in various points of detail by William of Malmesbury, Henry of Huntingdon, and other writers, Odo comes to England much sooner, in time for the Christmas assembly. He brings no treasonable intentions with him; he takes to plotting only when he finds that his power in England is less than he had hoped that it would be. Eustace and Robert of Bellême do not come to England till a later stage, when the rebellion has fully broken out, and when Odo is holding Rochester against the King. They are then sent by Duke Robert, who is represented (see p. 56) as hearing for the first time of the revolt in his favour after Rochester was seized by Odo.

Orderic begins his story (665 D) with an account of seditious meetings held by the nobles of Normandy and England, and of speeches made at them. It is not said where they were spoken or by whom, but the context would seem to imply that they were spoken by Odo in Normandy. For immediately after the speech follow the words (666 C);

“Hoc itaque consilium Odo præsul Baiocensis et Eustachius
comes Boloniensis atque Robertus Belesmensis aliique plures
communiter decreverunt, decretumque suum Roberto duci
detexerunt.”

Then the consent of Robert is given, as in p. 56, and the three ringleaders cross to England, and begin the revolt;

“Igitur post natale Domini prædicti proceres in Angliam
transfretaverunt, et castella sua plurimo apparatu
muniverunt, multamque partem patriæ contra regem infra breve
tempus commoverunt.”

I have ventured (in p. 25) to work the substance of the speech into the text, as it contains arguments which suit the circumstances of the case, and which are specially suited to speakers in Normandy. But the speech cannot really have been spoken by Odo in Normandy. For it is impossible to resist the evidence which brings Odo over to England before the Christmas Assembly, and which makes his enmity to the King arise out of things which happened after he came to England. We have, first, the direct statement (see p. 19) of Henry of Huntingdon that Odo was present at the Christmas Gemót. And this statement is the more valuable, because it is not brought in as part of the story of Odo; it reads rather as if it came from some official source, perhaps from a list of signatures to some act of the Assembly. But the words of William of Malmesbury (iv. 306) come almost to the same thing;

“Cum ille, solutus a vinculis, Robertum nepotem in comitatu
Normanniæ confirmasset, Angliam venit, recepitque a rege
comitatum Cantiæ.”

The Midwinter Gemót was the obvious time for such a grant, and Odo’s restoration to his earldom is asserted or implied everywhere. Thus in the Chronicle we read a little later how “Odo … ferde into Cent to his eorldome,” and Florence speaks of him as “Odo episcopus Baiocensis, qui et erat comes Cantwariensis.” Orderic himself (666 C) says, “Odo, ut supra dictum est, palatinus Cantiæ consul erat, et plures sub se comites virosque potentes habebat,” seemingly without seeing that his version hardly gives any opportunity for the restoration of the earldom. Henry of Huntingdon (214 Arnold), almost alone, speaks of him as “princeps et moderator Angliæ,” without reference to his special office of earl. William of Malmesbury goes on (see p. 23) to give the reason for Odo’s discontent, the greater authority of the Bishop of Durham. The Chronicle and Florence (see pp. 23, 24) mention only the great authority enjoyed by Bishop William, and the revolt of Odo, without mentioning Odo’s motive. That is, they simply state the facts, while William of Malmesbury supplies the connecting link. If we accept Orderic’s version that Odo did not come to England till after Christmas, we have hardly time for the events as they are stated in our other authorities. For we have to find time for Odo’s re-establishment in his earldom, for his hopes and for his disappointment, all leading up to the seditious gatherings during Lent. And in some parts of the kingdom, as we shall see in the next Note, these gatherings took the form of an open outbreak somewhat earlier than we should have been led to think from the account in the Chronicle.

Now there can be no doubt as to the truth of the version in which the Chronicle, Florence, and William of Malmesbury substantially agree. All that Orderic has done has been to place the voyage of Odo to England at a wrong time, and it is easy to see how the mistake arose. He makes Odo, Eustace, and Robert of Bellême cross together soon after Christmas. Now it is quite clear that Eustace and Robert did not come to England till after the rebellion had fully broken out, when Odo was holding Rochester against the King. The Chronicle simply says (see p. 57) that they were at Rochester with Odo. Florence (see p. 56) tells us more fully how they came to be there, namely, because they had been sent by Robert in answer to Odo’s request. Nothing was more easy than for Orderic to mistake this for a crossing in company with Odo. In his version, Odo, Eustace, and Robert, all cross with a commission from Duke Robert. In the true version Odo crosses long before to receive his English earldom, but with no purpose of disturbing the new settlement of England. He becomes discontented on English ground; he rebels, he asks help of Duke Robert, and Eustace and Robert of Bellême come in answer to his asking.

The Hyde writer, as usual, has a version of his own, which however, as far as Odo is concerned, follows that of Orderic. As soon as Robert has taken possession of his duchy, he calls a council, and sends over an army under his two uncles Bishop Odo and Count Robert, to take away the English crown from his brother. They cross the sea, winning a naval victory over a pirate fleet; they seize Rochester and Pevensey, and begin the rebellion seemingly before the end of the year 1087. This account (298) runs thus;

“Robertus … convocatis principibus et consilio habito, duos
avunculos suos, comitem Moritanii et episcopum Baiocensem,
cum valida manu transmittit, omnimodis decertatis _Waltero_
[sic] fratri regnum auferre sibique conferre. Qui vela
ventis committentes, et cum piratis obsistentibus in mari
viriliter decertantes, Angliam veniunt, urbemque Roffensem
et castellum Pevenesellum intrantes, rebellare contendunt.”

We easily see from the later history of the rebellion how this writer has taken some of its most striking incidents and, as it were, crushed them up together. As Orderic confounds the crossing of Odo with the crossing of Eustace and Robert of Bellême, so the Hyde writer seems to confound both with the later expedition from Normandy (see p. 74), which did not occupy Pevensey after a victory, but was driven back by the King’s English troops in an attempt to land at Pevensey.

The account given incidentally by Robert of Torigny (Cont. Will. Gem. viii. 3) has points in common with this version, though it may be more easily reconciled with the true story. He records the peace between William and Robert in 1091, and adds;

“Licet regnum Angliæ ipse Robertus facillime paullo ante
potuisset habere, nisi minus cautus esset. Siquidem
Eustachius comes Boloniæ, et episcopus Baiocensis et comes
Moritolii patrui ejus, et alii principes Normanniæ, cum
magno apparatu militum mare transeuntes, Rovecestriam et
alia nonnulla castella in comitatu Cantuariensi occupantes
et tenentes ad opus illius, dum ipsum Robertum ducem
exspectant, qui tunc temporis ultra quam virum deceat in
Normannia deliciabatur, obsessi diu a rege Willelmo, dum
ille cujus causa tantum discrimen subierant, non subvenit,
cum dedecore ipsas quas tenebant munitiones exeuntes ad
propria sunt reversi.”

As for the object of the rebellion, the transfer of the English crown from William to Robert, we may hear William of Newburgh, who, though he believes (see above, p. 461) in Robert’s right of succession, yet says that he “in minori administratione, scilicet ducatus Normannici, claruit quod regno amplissimo administrando nunquam idoneus fuerit.”

* * * * *

What could M. de Rémusat (Anselme, 113) have meant when he said that the revolt of the Norman nobles “força le roi à se rapprocher de ses sujets _bretons_”? Then “il fit appel à la noblesse indigène.” This last may come from Matthew Paris; but the Welsh, the nearest approach to Bretons, joined the rebels.

NOTE C. Vol. i. pp. 28, 89.

THE SHARE OF BISHOP WILLIAM OF SAINT-CALAIS IN THE REBELLION OF 1088.

There are few more glaring contradictions to be found in history than the picture of Bishop William of Saint-Calais as drawn by the southern writers, and his picture as drawn by his own hand or that of some local admirer in the Durham document printed in the Monasticon, i. 245, and in the old edition of Simeon. No one would know the meek confessor of this last version in the traitor whom the Chronicler does not shrink from likening to the blackest of all traitors. Yet, if the narratives are carefully compared, it may seem that, with all the difference in colouring, there is much less contradiction in matter of fact than we are led to think at first sight. The opposition is simply of that kind which follows when each side, without asserting any direct falsehood, leaves out all that tells on behalf of the other side. We read the Bishop’s story; we see no reason to suspect him of stating anything which did not happen; under the circumstances indeed he could hardly venture to state anything which did not happen. But we see that the statement, though doubtless true as a mere record of facts, is dressed up in a most ingenious way, so as to put everything in the best light for his side, while everything that was to be said on the other side is carefully left out. But, on the other hand, while the Chronicler, Florence, and William of Malmesbury, clearly leave out a great deal, there is no reason to think that they leave it out from any partisan wish to pervert the truth. They believed, and doubtless on good grounds, that the Bishop of Durham was a chief actor in the rebellion, and they said so. But there was nothing to lead them to dwell on his story at any special length. Their attention was chiefly drawn to other parts of the events of that stirring year. Orderic indeed, whose account of some parts of the story is so minute, does not speak of Durham or its bishop at all.

Some of the passages from the Chronicle have been quoted in the text. The Bishop of Durham is there mentioned three times. First comes the record of his influence with the King, and his treason against him;

“On þisum ræde wæs ærest Oda bisceop and Gosfrið bisceop and
Willelm bisceop on Dunholme. Swa wæll dyde se cyng be þam
bisceop þæt eall Englaland færde æfter his ræde, and swa swa
he wolde, and he þohte to donne be him eall swa Iudas
Scarioð dide be ure Drihtene.”

Then, after the account of the deliverance of Worcester, Bishop William is named at the head of the ravagers in different parts of the country; “Se bisceop of Dunholme dyde to hearme þæt he mihte ofer eall be norðan.”

Lastly, at the end of the whole story, when Odo has come out of Rochester and gone beyond sea, we read;

“Se cyng siððan sende here to Dunholme, and let besittan
þone castel, and se bisceop griðode and ageaf þone castel,
and forlet his biscoprice and ferde to Normandige.”

Florence, writing seemingly with the Chronicle before him, changes the story so far as to make, not Bishop William but Count Robert (see p. 33), the chief accomplice of Odo. He then gives the list of the other confederates, at the end of which, after Robert of Mowbray, Bishop Geoffrey, and Earl Roger, we read, “quod erat pejus, Willelmus episcopus Dunholmensis,” followed by the passage (see p. 23) in which he describes the Bishop’s influence with the King. After this, he says nothing more about him till he records his death in 1096.

Henry of Huntingdon (215), also writing with the Chronicle before him, leaves out the first passage of the three and translates the two others. The third stands in his text;

“Mittens rex exercitum Dunhelmiæ obsedit urbem, donec
reddita est ei. Episcopus vero multique proditorum propulsi
sunt in exilium.”

William of Malmesbury, in the Gesta Regum (iv. 306), first mentions the influence of Bishop William and the envy which Odo felt at it. Then, in reckoning up the Conspirators, he adds;

“Quinetiam Willelmus Dunelmensis episcopus, quem rex a
secretis habuerat, in eorum perfidiam concesserat; quod
graviter regem tulisse ferunt, quia, cum amissæ charitatis
dispendio, remotarum provinciarum frustrabatur compendio.”

At the end of the story, after Odo is gone, he adds;

“Dunelmensis episcopus ultro mare transivit, quem rex,
verecundia præteritæ amicitiæ, indemnem passus est effugere.
Cæteri omnes in fidem recepti.”

In the Gesta Pontificum (272) he introduces Bishop William as “potens in sæculo,” and “oris volubilitate promptus, maxime sub Willelmo rege juniore.” This almost sounds as if he had read the debates at the bishop’s own trial, but it is more likely that he had his dealings with Anselm before his mind. He then goes on;

“Quapropter, et amicorum cohorti additus, et Angliæ
prælatus, non permansit in gratia. Quippe nullis principis
dictis vel factis contra eum extantibus, ab amicitia
descivit, in perfidia Odonis Baiocensis et ceterorum se
immiscens. Quapropter, victis partibus, ab Anglia fugatus,
post duos annos indulgentia principis rediit.”

Simeon of Durham, in his History (1088, at the end of the year), says simply, “Etiam Dunholmensis episcopus Willielmus vii. anno sui episcopatus, et multi alii de Anglia exierunt.” This omission is the more to be noticed, as he clearly had Florence and the Chronicle before him. In the History of the Church of Durham (iv. 8) we get a fuller account;

“Hujus [Willielmi regis], sicut et antea patris, amicitiis
antistes præfatus adjunctus, familiariter ei ad tempus
adhærebat: unde etiam Alvertoniam cum suis appenditiis rex
illi donavit. Post non multum vero temporis, _per aliorum
machinamenta orta inter ipsos dissensione_, episcopus ab
episcopatu pulsus ultra mare secessit, quem comes
Normannorum, non ut exulem, sed ut patrem suscipiens, in
magno honore per tres annos quibus ibi moratus est, habuit.”

In these accounts almost the only direct contradiction as to matters of fact comes in at the end, about the surrender of the castle of Durham to the King. The Chronicle certainly seems to imply a siege; and, reading the Chronicle only without reference to anything else, we should have thought that the Bishop himself was besieged there. William of Malmesbury, on the other hand, makes the story wind up between the King and the Bishop in a wonderfully friendly way. But on this point we can have little doubt in accepting the version which I have followed in the text (see p. 114), namely that the Bishop was not at Durham, that the castle was surrendered after a good deal of haggling, and perhaps a little plundering, on both sides, but with nothing that could be called a regular siege. In short, the Chronicler makes a little too much of the fact that the castle was surrendered to a military force. William of Malmesbury, on the other hand, makes a little too much of the fact that the Bishop was not, strictly speaking, driven from England by a judicial sentence, but that he rather went by virtue of a proposal of his own making. The only other question of strict fact which could be raised is as to the ravages which the Chronicler says were wrought by the Bishop. The picture in William of Malmesbury of the Bishop turning against the King without any provocation on his part, and the picture in the History of the Church of Durham of the men who stirred up strife between the King and the Bishop, are merely the necessary colouring from opposite sides. The only important point on this head is that the disposition to make the best of the Bishop’s conduct seems to have been general at Durham, and that it is not confined to the narrative which must have been written either by himself or under his immediate inspiration. But we must remember that the general career of William of Saint-Calais at Durham, his bringing in of monks and his splendid works of building, were sure to make him pass into the list of local worthies, so that local writers, both at the time and afterwards, would be led to make the best of his conduct in any matter.

Of the Bishop’s own story, or at least the story of some local writer who told it as the Bishop wished it to be told, I have given the substance in the text. And, as its examination does not involve any very great amount of comparison of one statement with another, I have given the most important illustrative passages in the form of notes to the text. I have said that, after all, there is little real contradiction in direct statements of fact between this version and that of the southern writers. We find the kind of differences which are sure to be found when we have on one side a general narrative, written without any special purpose, a narrative doubtless essentially true, but putting in or leaving out details almost at random, while we have on the other side a very minute and ingenious apology, enlarging on all points on which it was convenient to enlarge, and leaving out those which might tell the other way. But the truth is that the Bishop’s own statement of his services done to the King (see pp. 29, 111), and the charge which was formally brought against him by the King (see p. 98), do not really contradict one another. They may be read as a consecutive story, according to which the Bishop continued to be the King’s adviser, and to do him good outward service, after he had made up his mind to join the rebels and while he was waiting for an opportunity of so doing. It is most likely this special double-dealing which led the Chronicler to his exceptionally strong language with regard to the Bishop’s treason. The only point where there seems any kind of contradiction in fact is with regard to the dates. From the Chronicler and the other writers on the King’s side we should have thought that there was no open revolt anywhere till after Easter, whereas it is plain from the Durham story that a great deal must have happened in south-eastern England much earlier in the year. On this point the Durham version, a version founded on documents and minutely attentive to dates, is of course to be preferred. With the other writers the Bishop’s affairs are secondary throughout, and the affairs of Kent and Sussex are secondary in the first stage of the story. Till they come to the exciting scenes of the sieges of Tunbridge and Pevensey, the attention of the Chronicler, Florence, and the others, is mainly given to the affairs of the region stretching from Ilchester to Worcester. We may infer from them that the occupation of Bristol and the march against Worcester did not happen till after Easter, while we must infer from the Durham account that the movements in London, Kent, and Sussex, had happened not later than the beginning of March. There is in short no real contradiction; there is only that kind of difference which there is sure to be found when one writer gives a general view of a large subject with a general object, while another gives a minute view of one part of the subject with a special object.

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

* * * * *

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

NOTE D. Vol. i. p. 47.

THE DELIVERANCE OF WORCESTER IN 1088.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

* * * * *

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

NOTE E. Vol. i. p. 74.

THE ATTEMPTED LANDING OF THE NORMANS AT PEVENSEY.