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Title: The Reign of William Rufus and the Accession of Henry the First, Volume I (of 2)
Author: Freeman, Edward A. (Edward Augustus)
Language: English
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AND THE ACCESSION OF HENRY THE FIRST, VOLUME I (OF 2) ***
THE REIGN OF WILLIAM RUFUS.
London
HENRY FROWDE
[Illustration: Colophon]
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE
7 PATERNOSTER ROW
THE
REIGN OF WILLIAM RUFUS
AND THE
ACCESSION OF HENRY THE FIRST.
BY
EDWARD A. FREEMAN, M.A., HON. D.C.L., LL.D.
HONORARY FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE.
_IN TWO VOLUMES._
VOLUME I.
Oxford:
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS.
1882.
[_All rights reserved._]
PREFACE.
I have now been able to carry out the design which I spoke of in the
Prefaces to the fifth volume and to the second edition of the fourth
volume of my History of the Norman Conquest. I have endeavoured to
work out in detail the two sides of the memorable years with which I
deal in these volumes, their deep importance for general and specially
for constitutional history, and their rich store of personal and local
narrative. In the former aspect, I believe I may claim to be the first
to have dealt at length with the history of Bishop William of
Saint-Calais, a history of deep constitutional importance in itself,
and more important still with reference to the career of Anselm. It is
no small matter to be able to show that it was not Anselm, but
Anselm’s enemy, who was the first to appeal from an English court to
the see of Rome. In this matter I have, I trust, brought out into its
full importance a piece of history which has never, as far as I know,
been told at length by any modern writer, though Dr. Stubbs has shown
full appreciation of its constitutional bearings. Of less importance,
but still more novel, is the mission of Abbot Jeronto to England, to
which I have never seen any reference in any modern writer whatever.
With regard to the career of Randolf Flambard, I have now worked out
more fully many points which have been already spoken of both by
myself and by Dr. Stubbs; but I cannot claim to have brought forward
anything of great moment that is absolutely new.
In the part which consists of military and other narrative, I have, as
usual, given all the attention that I could to the topography. I have
visited every place that I could, and I have generally in so doing had
the help of friends, often with more observant eyes than my own. I
must specially thank Mr. James Parker for his help in Normandy and
Maine, the Rev. J. T. Fowler of Durham for his help in Normandy,
Maine, and Northumberland, Mr. G. T. Clark in Shropshire, Mr. F. H.
Dickinson at Ilchester, the Rev. William Hunt at Bristol, and the Rev.
W. R. W. Stephens in Sussex and Kent. I have also to thank His Grace
the Duke of Norfolk for free access to Arundel castle, and M. Henri
Chardon of Le Mans for much valuable help in that city. And, above
all, I must again thank Mr. James Parker for much more than help in
preparing the maps and plans which illustrate the book. Without him
they could not have been done at all.
In North Wales and in some parts of Normandy and France I was left to
my own inquiries. In South Wales I made no particular researches for
this volume; but I hope that an old-standing knowledge of a large part
of that country may not have been useless. Where I feel a real
deficiency is in Hampshire. I could not have made any minute inquiries
there without delaying the publication of the book for many months.
But I have in former years been at Portchester, and I have seen
something of the New Forest. And I feel pretty certain that no amount
of local research can throw any real light on the death of William
Rufus, unless indeed in the way of showing how local legends grew up.
But something might perhaps be done more minutely to illustrate the
landing and march of Duke Robert in 1101.
On this last point the place of the conference between Henry and
Robert is satisfactorily fixed in the new text of Wace published by
Dr. Andresen. I did not come across his volumes till most of the
references to Wace had been copied and printed from the edition of
Pluquet. But in the course of revision I was able in some cases to
refer to Andresen also. His text is clearly a better one than that of
Pluquet. But I cannot say that I have learned much from his notes,
perhaps from the singularly repulsive way in which they are printed.
Another German writer, Dr. Liebermann, has done good service to my
period by publishing several unpublished chronicles to which I have
often referred. Those of Saint Edmundsbury are of very considerable
local importance. But there are other things that want printing. I
hear from Mr. E. C. Waters that there lurks in manuscript a cartulary
of Colchester Abbey, which contains distinct proof that Henry the
First spoke English familiarly. I have never doubted the fact, which
has always seemed to me as clear as anything that rested on mere
inference can be. But it is something to know that there is direct
witness to the fact, though it would be more satisfactory if one could
refer to that witness for oneself. In the story, as told me by Mr.
Waters, a document partly in English is produced in the Kings
presence; the clerk in whose hands it is put breaks down at the
English part; the King takes the parchment, and reads and explains it
with ease.
I may mention one point with regard to topography in Normandy and
Maine. I have now carefully written the names of all places in
Normandy, Maine, and the neighbouring lands, according to the forms
now received, as they appear for instance on the French Ordnance map.
I am sure that people constantly read names like “Willelmus de Sancto
Carilepho,” “Robertus de Mellento,” without clearly taking in that
“Sanctus Carilephus,” “Mellentum”, &c. are names of real places, as
real as any town in England. When one reads, as I have read, of
“Bishop Karilef,” “the Honour of the Eagle,” and so forth, it is plain
that those who write in that way have no clear notion of Saint-Calais
and Laigle as real places. Yet all these towns are still there; to
most of them the railway is open, and there are trains. On the other
hand, the confusions of French writers about English places are, if
possible, more amazing. A German writer, meanwhile, is pretty sure to
know where any place, either in France or England, is, though he may
be sometimes a little lifeless in his way of dealing with it.
I have now pretty well done with the history of the Norman Conquest of
England, except so far as I still hope to put forth my story on a
scale intermediate between five――or rather seven――large volumes and
one very small one. But I should be well pleased to go on with another
piece of history of the same date, the essential importance of which
and its close connexion with that with which I have been dealing is
being always brought more and fully home to me. The Norman in the
great island of the Ocean and the Norman in the great island of the
Mediterranean naturally form companion pieces. I have made some
acquaintance with the Rogers and Williams of Sicily in their own home,
and I should be well pleased to make that acquaintance more intimate.
Palermo follows naturally on Winchester and Rouen. The pleasure-house
of William the Bad is the skeleton of the Conqueror’s Tower with a
wholly different life breathed into it by Saracenic artists. But the
points of view from which we may approach Sicily, the meeting-place of
the nations, and the rich and various sources of interest which are
supplied by the history of that illustrious island, are simply
endless.
In all technical points these volumes follow the exact pattern of the
History of the Norman Conquest. And I take a knowledge of that work
for granted, and I assume all points which I believe myself to have
explained or established in it. But I have added to these volumes,
what I have not added to any of their predecessors, a Chronological
Summary, distinct from the Table of Contents. It is, I think, a
necessary companion to a narrative in which I could not strictly
follow chronological order, but had to keep several contemporary lines
of story distinct. Alongside of the History of William Rufus I set his
Annals.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
A. D. PAGE
Character of the reign of William Rufus 3
The Norman Conquest in one sense completed, in
another undone 3
Feudal developement under Rufus and Flambard 4
Growth of anti-feudal tendencies 4
Extension of the power of England at home 4
Beginning of rivalry between England and France 5
Change in the European position of England 5
Personal character of William Rufus 5-6
His companions and adversaries; Anselm and Helias 6
Last warfare between Normans and English; results
of the struggle 6-7
The Norman kingship becomes English 7
Effects of the French war 7
Scheme of the work 8
CHAPTER II.
THE EARLY DAYS OF WILLIAM RUFUS. 1087-1090.
Character of the accession of Rufus; general
acceptance without formal election 9-10
§ 1. _The Coronation and Acknowledgement of William Rufus.
September, 1087._
Rufus the enemy of the Church, yet his election
specially ecclesiastical 10
Wishes of the late King in his favour 11
Special agency of Lanfranc 12
Sept. 8, William Rufus leaves his father’s death-bed and
1087. hastens to England 12-13
He brings with him Morkere and Wulfnoth, and
again imprisons them 13-14
Duncan and Wulf set free by Robert 13
Meeting of William and Lanfranc 15
Sept. 26. Coronation of William Rufus at Westminster 15
His special oath 16
Dec. 1087- His gifts to churches and to the poor 17-18
Jan.1088. The Christmas Assembly; Odo restored to his
earldom 18-19
Special circumstances of William’s accession; no
other available choice; comparison between
William and Robert 19-22
§ 2. _The Rebellion against William Rufus.
March-November, 1088._
Beginning of the rebellion; discontent of Odo;
influence of William of Saint-Calais 22-24
March, 1088. Gatherings of the rebels; speech of Odo;
arguments on behalf of Robert 24-26
Comparison of the elder and younger William 26-27
Geoffrey of Coutances joins the rebels 27
Treason of the Bishop of Durham; different
statements of his conduct 28-29
March, 1088. Early movements in Kent and Sussex 29
The Bishop forsakes the King; his temporalities
seized 30
He is summoned to the King’s court; action of
Ralph Paganel 31
March-May, Lands of the bishopric laid waste 32
1088.
April 16. The Easter Assembly; the rebels refuse to come 32
List of the rebels 33-35
Loyalty of Earl Hugh of Chester 34
Ravages of the rebels; of Bishop William, Roger
Bigod, and Hugh of Grantmesnil 35-36
History and description of Bristol 36-40
Bristol occupied by Bishop Geoffrey; his works;
ravages of William of Eu and Robert of Mowbray 40-41
Robert of Mowbray burns Bath 41-42
His siege and defeat at Ilchester 42-44
William of Eu plunders in Gloucestershire;
history and description of Berkeley 44-46
Rebel centre at Hereford; action of Earl Roger 46-47
The rebels march on Worcester; history and
description of the city 47-49
Action of Wulfstan; deliverance of Worcester 48-51
Movements of Odo in Kent; he occupies Rochester 52
Rochester, Tunbridge, and Pevensey 52-53
The war at Rochester; history and description of
the city and castle 52-56
Duke Robert sends over Eustace of Boulogne and
Robert of Bellême 56
The three sons of Earl Roger 57
Earl Roger at Arundel; history and description of
the castle 58-59
William of Warren; his earldom of Surrey; his
loyalty; he keeps Lewes 59-60
The King wins over Earl Roger 60-61
Robert of Mortain holds Pevensey against the King 62
Loyal Normans; Robert Fitz-hamon 62
The Church and the people for the King 63
William’s proclamations and promises; the English
arm for him 63-65
Meeting of the English army at London; William
accepted as English king 65-67
William’s march; English hatred of Odo 67
Taking of Tunbridge castle 68-70
March towards Rochester; Odo at Pevensey 70
Duke Robert fails to help the rebels 71
The English besiege Odo in Pevensey 72-73
Robert at last sends help; the Norman landing
hindered by the English 74-75
Alleged death of William of Warren 76
Pevensey surrenders; terms granted to Odo;
Rochester to be surrendered 76
The garrison of Rochester refuse to surrender;
Odo taken prisoner by his own party 77
William’s _Niðing_ proclamation; second English
muster 78
Siege of Rochester; straits of the besieged; they
agree to surrender 79-80
Lesson of the war; the King stronger than any one
noble; the unity of England 80-81
The King refuses terms to the besieged 81
Pleadings for the besieged, Odo and others; the
King grants terms 82-85
The honours of war refused to Odo; his
humiliation; he leaves England 87-89
June 4, The Whitsun Assembly; confiscations and grants;
1088. amnesty of the chief rebels 88
The Bishop of Durham again summoned 89
His dealings with Counts Alan and Odo; he comes
with a safe-conduct 90-91
The Bishop’s ecclesiastical claims; he goes back to
Durham 91-92
Sept. 8 Agreement between the Bishop and the Counts 92-93
Nov. 2. Meeting at Salisbury; trial of the Bishop; he
denies the authority of the court 95-97
Lanfranc and William of Saint-Calais 97
The charge and the Bishop’s answer 98-99
Lanfranc and Geoffrey of Coutances 100-101
Debate in the Bishop’s absence; constitution
of the court 100-101
Debate on the word _fief_ 102
The Bishop’s seven counsellors 103
He appeals to Rome; character of the appeal;
position of Lanfranc 103-106
The sentence pronounced; he renews his appeal 106-107
Dialogue between the King and the Bishop;
intervention of Count Alan 107-109
The Bishop appeals again; the final sentence 109-110
The Bishop’s demand for money; answer of
Lanfranc 110-111
The King’s offer; the Bishop gives sureties 111-112
Question of the safe-conduct; charges of the
Bishop’s men 112-113
Conditions of the Bishop’s leaving England 113-114
Nov. 14 Durham castle surrendered to the King 114
Nov. 21-26 The Bishop’s voyage delayed 115
New charges and summonses; the Bishop’s
dealings with Osmund and Walkelin 116-117
He at last sails to Normandy; his reception by
Duke Robert 117
Character and importance of the story; William
of Saint-Calais the first to appeal to Rome 117-119
Behaviour of the King, of Lanfranc, and of the
lesser actors 119-120
State of Wales; Rhys restored by a fleet from
Ireland 121
Gruffydd son of Cynan attacks Rhuddlan 122
Action of Robert of Rhuddlan; he returns to
North Wales 123
Robert at Dwyganwy; description and history of
the place 123-124
July 3 Approach of Gruffydd’s fleet; death of Robert
of Rhuddlan 124-127
His burial and epitaph 127-129
End of the Norman Conquest; its confirmation
and undoing 129-130
Tendencies to union; the new dynasty and
nobility accepted in an English character 131-132
Rufus’ breach of his promises; his general
oppression; no oppression of the English as
such 132-133
His employment of mercenaries; their presence
helps the fusion of races 133-134
Sale of ecclesiastical offices; prolongation
of vacancies 134-135
Restoration of Thurstan of Glastonbury 135
Sept. 25 Death of Geoffrey Bishop of Chichester 135
Death of Abbot Scotland of Saint Augustine’s,
Abbot Ælfsige of Bath, and Bishop Gisa of
Wells 136
1088-1122 The bishopric of Somerset granted to John of
Tours; he removes the see to Bath 136-137
He obtains the temporal lordship of Bath 137
Complaints of the canons of Wells and the monks
of Bath 138-139
Guy forced on the monks of Saint Augustine’s;
disturbances and their punishment 139-140
§ 3. _Character of William Rufus._
May 24, Death and burial of Lanfranc; his position
1089 in England and Normandy 140-142
Change for the worse in the King’s character;
rebukes of Lanfranc 142-143
Personal description of William Rufus 143-144
His conduct in youth; his filial duty; his
conduct during the rebellion 145-146
General charges against William Rufus; his
marked personality 147
His alleged firmness of purpose; his lack of
real steadiness; his unfinished campaigns 148-149
His alleged magnanimity; his boundless pride;
story of the chamberlain 149-151
His alleged liberality; his wastefulness 151-152
His rewards to the loyal troops after the
rebellion 152
His extortions 153
His generally strict government 153
His lavishness to his foreign mercenaries 153-154
1108 They are restrained by the statute of Henry 154
Stricter forest laws; story of the fifty
English acquitted by ordeal 155-157
Special vices of Rufus; old and new fashions
of dress 157-159
His irreligion; his favour to the Jews 159-161
True position of the Jews in England 160
Dispute between Jews and Christians 162
He makes the converted Jews turn back; story
of the convert Stephen 162-165
William’s defiance of God and the saints;
frequency of blasphemy 165-167
Redeeming features in Rufus; little personal
cruelty; respect for his father’s memory 167-169
His chivalrous spirit; his word when kept; and
when broken 169-171
Chivalry a new thing; William Rufus marks the
beginning of a new æra 169-171
Illustrations of the chivalrous character 171-174
Grouping of events in the reign of Rufus 174
CHAPTER III.
THE FIRST WARS OF WILLIAM RUFUS.
1090-1092.
Character of the year 1089; natural phænomena 175-176
August 11, The great earthquake 176
1089 Character of the year 1090; beginnings of
foreign adventure and domestic oppression 177
The years 1090-1091; affairs of Normandy,
Scotland, and Cumberland 177
Connexion of English and Norman history; the
same main actors in both 177
Contrast between England and Normandy as to
private war 178
The old and the new generation 179
History of Robert of Bellême 179-181
His character; his engineering skill; his
special and wanton cruelty 181-183
His enmity towards Helias, Abbot Ralph, and
others 183-184
1110 His final imprisonment by Henry 184
History and character of Robert Count of Meulan
and Earl of Leicester 184-187
His fame for wisdom and influence with Rufus
and Henry 185-186
1118 Story of his death-bed 187
§ 1. _Normandy under Robert. 1087-1090._
State of Normandy; interest of those who held
lands in both countries 188-189
Temptations to invasion 188-189
Character of Robert; his weak good-nature and
lack of justice 190-191
Spread of vice and evil fashions 191
Building of castles; garrisons kept by the
Conqueror in the castles of the nobles 192
Robert of Bellême and others drive out the
Duke’s forces 193
Robert’s lavish grants; Ivry; Brionne 194
The Ætheling Henry claims his mother’s lands 195
He buys the Côtentin and Avranchin; his firm
rule 196-197
Summer, Henry goes to England; William
1088 promises him his mother’s lands 197
He seizes them again; and grants them to Robert
Fitz-hamon 198
Autumn, Influence of Odo with Robert 198
1088 Henry comes back to Normandy with Robert of
Bellême; they are seized and imprisoned 199
Earl Roger makes war on the Duke; his
fortresses 199-200
Odo’s exhortation to Robert 200-202
Affairs of Maine; relations with Fulk of Anjou 202-204
Robert acknowledged in Maine 204
Chief men of the county; Bishop Howel, Geoffrey
of Mayenne, Helias of La Flèche 205
April 21, Appointment of Howel to the see of Le Mans;
1085 his loyalty to the Norman dukes 205-208
Temporal relations to the see of Le Mans 207
Robert before Le Mans; general submission of
the county 208-209
Aug.-Sept. Ballon holds out; description of the place;
1088 siege and surrender of the castle 209-211
Robert attacks Saint Cenery; description and
history of the place 211-215
Geroy and his descendants; Saint Cenery seized
by Mabel 214-215
Siege and surrender of Saint Cenery; blinding
of Robert Carrel 215-217
Castle granted to Robert grandson of Geroy 217
Surrender of Alençon, Bellême, and other
castles; Robert disbands his army 218-219
Robert of Bellême set free at his father’s
request 219-220
Henry set free; his good government of
Coutances and Avranches 220-222
§ 2. _The First Successes of William Rufus. 1090._
Easter, Schemes of William Rufus; assembly at
1090 Winchester; the King’s speech; war voted by
the Witan 221-224
William stays in England; his policy; his
advantages in his struggle with Robert 224-226
Power of William’s wealth; mercenaries; bribes 226-227
Submission of Saint Valery; beginning of
English action on the continent 227-228
Submission of various castles; Aumale, Eu,
Gournay, Longueville; description of Gournay
and Longueville 228-231
Ralph of Toesny and Count William of Evreux;
their kindred; enmity of their wives 231-232
Heloise of Evreux and Isabel of Toesny 232-234
War between Ralph and Count William; Ralph
vainly asks help of the Duke; he submits to
King William 234
Helias of Saint-Saens; he marries Robert’s
natural daughter 235
His faithfulness; importance of his castles;
Saint-Saens, Bures, and Arques 236-237
William’s dealings with France; Robert asks
help of Philip; Philip sets out, but is
bribed to go back 237-239
The first English subsidy; first direct
dealings between England and France; results
of Rufus’ dealings with Philip 239-241
Private wars not interrupted by the invasion;
action of Robert of Bellême 241-242
Robert of Meulan imprisoned and set free 243
Duke Robert takes Brionne 244
November, Movement at Rouen; the municipal spirit; influence
1090 of Conan; his treaty with William Rufus 245-247
A day fixed for the surrender to William; Duke
Robert sends for help 248
November 3. Henry and Robert of Bellême come to the help of
Duke Robert 248-249
Rouen in the eleventh century 249-253
Fright of Duke Robert; division in the city;
Henry sends Duke Robert away 253-256
Gilbert of Laigle enters Rouen; slaughter of
the citizens; Conan taken prisoner 256
Conan put to death by Henry 257-260
Robert brought back; treatment of the citizens;
imprisonment of William son of Ansgar 260-261
November Count William of Evreux marches against
Conches 261-266
Siege of Conches; settlement of the county of
Evreux on Roger of Conches 262-268
The three dreams; death of Roger of Conches 268-270
1100-1108 Later history of Ralph and William and their
wives 270-271
Orderic’s picture of Normandy; his English
feelings 271-272
§ 3. _Personal Coming of William Rufus. 1091._
Christmas, Assembly at Westminster 273
1090
Feb. 1091 The King crosses to Normandy 273
January Duke Robert helps Robert of Bellême; siege of
Courcy 273-274
The siege raised at the news of William’s coming 274
Treaty of Caen; cession of Norman territory to
William 275-276
Saint Michael’s Mount passes to William, the
rest of the Côtentin and Maine to Robert;
agreement to despoil Henry 277-279
Settlement of the English and Norman succession;
growth of the doctrine of legitimacy 279-280
Dealings with Henry and Eadgar; Eadgar banished
from Normandy; he goes to Scotland 280-282
Partisans on each side to be restored 282
The treaty sworn to; it stands but a little
while 283
Lent, 1091 Robert and William march against Henry 283
Henry’s preparations; Hugh of Chester and others
surrender their castles 283
Henry defends himself on Saint Michael’s Mount;
he is welcomed by the monks 284-285
Siege of the Mount; its position; character of
the siege 285-287
Personal anecdotes; story of Rufus and the
knight who unhorsed him 287-290
Contrast between William and Robert; Henry
allowed to take water, and William’s answer 291-292
Feb. 1091 Henry surrenders 292-293
Aug. 1091 William returns to England with his brothers 293
Stories of Henry’s adventures; evidence for his
presence in England in 1091 293-295
§ 4. _The Scottish Expedition of William Rufus.
August-October, 1091._
May, 1091 Affairs of Scotland; Malcolm’s invasion of
Northumberland; he is driven back 295-297
Aug. 1091 William and Robert in England; relations
between Robert and Malcolm; stronger side
of Robert and Eadgar 297-298
September 3 William’s march; state of Durham; restoration
of Bishop William; his renewed influence 298-300
Michaelmas Loss of William’s ships 300
The kings by the Scots’ Water; mediation of
Robert and Eadgar; Malcolm does homage to
William 301-304
Questions as to the betrothal of Margaret and
the earldom of Lothian 303-304
Return of William; signatures to the Durham
charters 305-306
December 23 Fresh disputes between William and Robert;
Robert and Eadgar leave England 306-307
October 15 Fall of the tower at Winchcombe 307
October 17 Great wind in London 308
1092 Fire in London 308
March 28 Consecration of the church of Salisbury 308-309
April 10 The tower and roof blown down 309
May 9 Completion of Lincoln minster; the church ready
for consecration; Thomas of York claims the
jurisdiction of Lindesey; the King orders
the consecration 309-312
May 6 Remigius dies before the appointed day; the
church remains unconsecrated 312
§ 5. _The Conquest and Colonization of Carlisle. 1092._
William’s conquest of Carlisle; popular
mistakes as to Cumberland and Westmoreland 313-314
603-685 Early history of Carlisle; it forms part of
the Northumbrian kingdom 314
Scandinavians in Cumberland; destruction of
Carlisle 315
1092 Dolfin lord of Carlisle; he is driven out; the
city restored and the castle built 315
The Saxon colony at Carlisle 316
The earldom of Carlisle; later history of the
city; the castle and the bishopric 317-318
1093 Fortunes of Henry; the men of Domfront
choose him as their lord; description of
Domfront 319-320
Henry’s wars with Robert; he wins back his
county 320-321
The castle of Saint James is granted to Earl
Hugh 321-323
CHAPTER IV.
THE PRIMACY OF ANSELM AND THE ACQUISITION
OF NORMANDY. 1093-1097.
1087-1092 Character of the early years of William Rufus;
chronological sequence of the history 325-326
1093-1098 Character of the next period; distinct lines
of story 326-328
Ecclesiastical affairs; working of the new
ideas; new position of the King 328
1089-1093 Vacancy of the see of Canterbury; influence of
Randolf Flambard 328-329
§ 1. _The Administration of Randolf Flambard._
1089-1099 Early history of Flambard; question as to his
settlement in England T. R. E. 329
His service with the Bishop of London 329-330
Flambard a priest, and said to have been Dean
of Twinham 330
Character of Flambard; his parents; his
surname; his financial skill 330-331
His probable share in Domesday; his alleged
new Domesday 331-332
His rise under Rufus; he holds the
justiciarship; growth of the office under
him 332-333
His loss of land for the New Forest 333
His systematic charges and exactions; the King
to be every man’s heir 333-335
The feudal tenure; wardship; marriage;
dealings with bishoprics and abbeys 335-336
Agency of Flambard; systematizing of the
feudal tenures 336-337
Flambard’s theory of land-holding; relief and
redemption; dealings with wills 337-339
Wardship; its oppressive working; wardship and
marriage special to England and Normandy 339-340
The two sides of feudalism; England in what
sense feudal 340-341
Flambard’s oppression falls most directly on
the greatest estates; no special oppression
of the English as such 341-342
Dealings of the tenants-in-chief with their
under-tenants 342
Submission of the nobles; position of the
king’s clerks 342-343
Position of Rufus favourable for his schemes;
effect on national unity 343-344
Abuse of the old laws 344
Dealings with church property; appointment and
investiture of bishops and abbots 345
Grant of the temporalities by the king; church
lands become fiefs; analogy between lay and
spiritual fiefs; Flambard’s inferences 346-347
Vacant prelacies held by the King; power of
prolonging the vacancy 347
Sale of bishoprics and abbeys; simony not
systematic before Rufus 347-348
Treatment of vacant churches; Flambard the
chief agent 349
Novelty of the practice; tenure in
_frankalmoign_ 350
1092-1100 Resignation and restoration of Abbot Odo of
Chertsey 350
Distinction between bishoprics and abbeys; the
vacancies longer in the case of the abbeys 350-352
English abbots; story of the appointment to an
Sees vacant in 1092 353
1091-1123 Ralph Luffa Bishop of Chichester; his
appointment and episcopate 353-354
1091 Death of Bishop William of Thetford; history
of Herbert Losinga; he buys the bishopric 354
1088-1091 Three years’ vacancy of New Minster 355
1091-1093 Herbert buys the abbey for his father Robert 355
1093 Herbert repents; receives his bishopric again
from the Pope; novelty of the act 355-356
1092-1094 Vacancy of the see of Lincoln 356
1089-1093 Vacancy of Canterbury 356
§ 2. _The Vacancy of the Primacy and the Appointment
of Anselm. 1089-1093._
Effects of the vacancy of the see of Canterbury 357
Special position of the metropolitan see;
place of the Archbishop as the leader of the
nation 358-359
Appointment to the archbishopric; the see not
granted to the King’s clerks 359
The King’s purpose to keep the see vacant; his
motives 359-361
No fear of a bad appointment 361-362
No thought of election either by the monks or
by the Witan; silent endurance of the nation 362-363
Results of the vacancy; corruption of the
clergy; lack of ecclesiastical discipline 363-365
Anselm; debt of England to foreigners; the
Burgundian saints, Anselm and Hugh 365
1080 Birth and parentage of Anselm; Aosta 366-368
Comparison of Lanfranc and Anselm; various
sides of Anselm’s character; he is not
preferred in England by the Conqueror 368-369
Anselm and Eadmer; references to Eadmer in
other writers 369-370
Childhood of Anselm; his youthful licence 370-371
1057-1060 He leaves Aosta; his sojourn at Avranches 371
1060 He becomes a monk at Bec 371
1063 He is elected Prior; stories of him as Prior 372
1078 He is elected Abbot; Bec under his government;
his widespread fame 373
His correspondence 374
Relations between Bec and England 374-376
1090 Foundation of the priory of Clare 376
Frequency of lawsuits; Anselm’s desire to do
justice 376-377
1078 His first visit to England; his friendship with
the monks of Christ Church; his first
acquaintance with Eadmer 377-378
His general popularity in England; his love
for England; his preaching and alleged
miracles 378-380
His friendship with the Conqueror and with
Earl Hugh 380-381
Feeling as to the vacancy of the archbishopric;
Anselm looked to as the coming archbishop 381-382
Earl Hugh changes the canons of Saint
Werburh’s at Chester for monks; he asks help
from Anselm 382
Anselm refuses to go; repeated messages and
refusals; he at last goes at the bidding of
his own monks 382-385
September 8, Anselm at Canterbury 385
1092
His first interview with Rufus; his rebukes of
the King; settlement of the affairs of Bec 385-387
Anselm at Chester 387
February, The King refuses him leave to go back; William’s
1093 feeling towards Anselm 388
Christmas, The Christmas assembly; the vacancy discussed by
1092-1093 the Witan; petition of the assembly to the
King 387-389
Prayers for the appointment of an archbishop
drawn up by Anselm 389-390
Character of the year 1093 390
Discourse about Anselm before the King; the
King’s mockery 390-391
He falls sick at Alveston and is removed to
Gloucester 391
Repentance of Rufus; advice of the prelates
and nobles; Anselm sent for; Rufus promises
amendment 392-393
His proclamation of reform; general
satisfaction 393-394
Beginnings of reform; prisoners set free; the
bishopric of Lincoln granted to Robert Bloet 394-395
March 6, Rufus names Anselm to the archbishopric;
1093 unwillingness of Anselm 396
Arguments of the bishops, of the King, and his
own monks 397-399
He is invested and installed by force 398-401
Anselm’s renewed protest; his parable of the
two oxen; the King orders the restitution of
the temporalities of the see 401-403
The royal right of investiture not questioned;
no scruples on the part of Anselm; later
change in his views 403-404
No ecclesiastical election; sole action of the
King; Gundulf’s letter to the monks of Bec 404-405
Anselm tarries with Gundulf; consent of the
Duke, the Archbishop of Rouen, and the monks
of Bec 406
April 17, The King’s recovery; the Easter Gemót 407
1093
The King falls back into evil ways; he recalls
his acts of mercy 407-408
He keeps his purpose as to Anselm 408-409
March-Dec. Affairs of England and Wales; dealings between
1093 William and Malcolm; designs of William on
Normandy 409-410
Action of William of Eu; he suggests an attack
on Normandy 410-411
Dealings of Rufus with the Counts of Flanders 411-412
Oct. 4 or Death of Robert the Frisian; accession of
13, 1093 Robert of Jerusalem 411-412
Interview between Anselm and the King at
Rochester; his three conditions 412-414
Anselm requires to be allowed to acknowledge
Pope Urban; question of the acknowledgement
of Popes; English feeling on the subject 414-416
The King’s answer; his special counsellors;
Count Robert of Meulan and Bishop William of
Durham 417
The King prays Anselm to take the archbishopric;
he asks for the confirmation of grants made
by him during the vacancy 418
Anselm refuses; statement of the case on both
sides; the King’s _advocatio_ of the
archbishopric 418-421
State of public feeling; special Gemót at
Winchester; Anselm receives the archbishopric
and does homage 421-422
The King’s writ; the Archbishop’s thegns;
clauses in favour of the monks 422-423
Relations of the Archbishop to the city of
Canterbury and the abbey of Saint Alban’s 423-424
1093 Death of Abbot Paul of Saint Alban’s;
four years’ vacancy of the abbey 423-424
The question as to the Pope left unsettled;
no reference to the Pope in English episcopal
appointments 424-425
Order of episcopal appointments then and now;
theory of the two systems 425-427
Sept. 25, Enthronement of Anselm; Flambard brings a suit
1093 against him on the day of his enthronement 427-428
December 4 Consecration of Anselm at Canterbury; list of
the officiating bishops 429-430
Successful objection of Thomas of York to the
phrase “Metropolitan of Britain” 430-432
Anselm’s general profession to the Roman
church 432-433
Thomas claims jurisdiction over Lincoln;
Robert Bloet’s consecration delayed 433
Christmas, Assembly at Gloucester; Anselm received by
1093-1094 the King 434
§ 3. _The Assembly at Hastings and the second Norman
Campaign. 1094._
Events of the year 1094; affairs of Normandy;
their connection with Anselm 434-435
Christmas, Robert’s challenge of William; war decreed 435-436
1093-1094
Contributions collected for the war; Anselm
unwilling to contribute; he at last gives
five hundred pounds 437-438
William first accepts the money and then
refuses it 438-440
Dispute with Bishop Maurice of London;
judgement of Wulfstan 440-441
February 2, Assembly at Hastings; fleet delayed by the
1094 wind 441-442
February 11 Consecration of the church at Battle; William
and Anselm at Battle 442-445
February 3, Death of Bishop Geoffrey of Coutances; his
1093 successor Ralph at Hastings and Battle 444
February 12 Consecration of Robert Bloet to Lincoln; his
gift to the King; plot against Anselm;
compromise with York 445-446
1104-1123 Character and episcopate of Robert Bloet 447-448
Return of Bishop Herbert of Thetford; he is
deprived by the King 448
1094 His restoration; he removes his see to Norwich 448
February 17 The ceremonies of Ash-Wednesday; Anselm rebukes
the minions 449-450
Anselm’s interview with the King; his silence
about the war 450-451
Anselm asks for help in his reforms; he asks
leave to hold a synod; his appeal against
the fashionable vices 451-453
Grievances of the Church; wrongs of the church
tenants 454
He prays the King to fill the vacant abbeys;
their relation to the King; hostile answer
of Rufus 454-456
Comparison of Lanfranc and Anselm; estimate of
Anselm’s conduct 456-457
Anselm tries to recover the King’s favour; the
bishops advise him to give more money; his
grounds for refusing 457-460
The King more hostile than ever; Anselm
leaves Hastings 460
March 19, William crosses to Normandy 461
1094
Vain attempts to settle the dispute between
William and Robert; verdict of the
guarantors against William 461
Castles held by William; taking of Bures 462-463
Robert calls in Philip; siege and surrender of
Argentan; ransom of the prisoners 463-464
Robert takes La Houlme 465
Difficulties of Rufus; further taxation; levy
of English soldiers; Flambard takes away
the soldiers’ money 465-466
Rufus buys off Philip 466-467
Contemporary notices of the campaign;
differences between England and Normandy;
private wars go on in Normandy 467-468
Relations between Rufus and Henry; war at
Saint Cenery; the castle taken by Robert of
Bellême 468-469
Henry and Earl Hugh summoned to Eu 469
October 31 They go to Southampton and keep Christmas in
London 470
December 28 The King comes to England; William and Henry
reconciled 470
February, Henry goes to Normandy; his warfare with
1095 Robert 470-471
Norman supporters of William 471-474
Wretchedness of England; causes for the
King’s return; affairs of Scotland and Wales;
plots at home 474-475
§ 4. _The Council of Rockingham.
December, 1094-March, 1095._
Notes of the year 1095; councils of the year 476
Jan., Feb.,
1095 Movements of William; alleged Welsh campaign 476-477
April, 1094- Last days and sickness of Wulfstan; his
Jan., 1095 friendshipwith Bishop Robert of Hereford 477-479
January 18, Death of Wulfstan; his appearance to Bishop
1095 Robert 480
January 22 His burial 480
Anselm and Urban; need of the pallium; elder
usage as to it 481-484
Anselm asks leave to go to Urban for the
pallium; William refuses to acknowledge any
pope 484-485
Anselm asks for an assembly to discuss the
question; he will leave the realm if he may
not acknowledge Urban 485-486
Frequency of assemblies under Rufus; a special
meeting summoned 487
Sunday, Assembly at Rockingham 487
March 11
Estimate of the question; the King technically
right; no real objection to Urban on his
part 487-489
History and description of Rockingham 490-491
Place of meeting; the King’s inner council 491
Anselm’s opening speech 492
The real point avoided on the King’s side;
Anselm treated as an accused person 493
Conduct of the bishops; the meeting adjourned
till Monday 493-494
Monday, The bishops counsel submission; Anselm’s
March 12 second speech; he asserts no exclusive
claims; his two duties 494-496
Position of England towards the popes; Anselm
and William of Saint-Calais 496-497
Anselm not the first to appeal to Rome 497
Answer of the bishops; the King’s messages; the
bishops advise him to submit to the King in
all things 497-499
Anselm sleeps during the debate 498
The bishops’ definition of freedom; Anselm
will not forsake Urban 499-500
Schemes of William of Saint-Calais against
Anselm; he aspires to the archbishopric 500-501
Objects of the King; promises of William of
Saint-Calais; his speech to Anselm 502-503
William’s imperial claims; his relations at
the time to the vassal kingdoms 503-505
The real question hitherto evaded; Anselm’s
challenge; he states the real case 505-506
New position of the bishops 506
Anselm insulted; popular feeling on his side;
story of Anselm and the knight 506-508
Perplexity of the King; failure of William of
Saint-Calais; the assembly adjourned 508-509
Tuesday, Debates in the inner council; William of
March 13 Saint-Calais recommends force; the lay nobles
refuse; speeches of the King and Robert of
Meulan 510-511
The King bids the bishops renounce Anselm; he
withdraws his protection; Anselm’s answer 511-513
The King turns to the lay lords; they support
Anselm 513-514
Shame of the bishops; the King further
examines them; his rewards and punishments 514-516
Anselm wishes to leave England; another
adjournment 516-517
Wednesday Anselm summoned to the King’s presence;
March 14 the lay lords propose a truce; adjournment
to May 20 517-519
Importance of the meeting at Rockingham 519
William keeps faith to Anselm personally,
but oppresses his friends 519-521
§ 5. _The Mission of Cardinal Walter. 1095._
March-May Events of the time of truce; assemblies of
1095 the year 521
Position of Urban 521
March 1-7, Council of Piacenza; its decrees; no mention
1095 of English affairs 522-523
William’s schemes to turn the Pope against
Anselm; mission of Gerard and William of
Warelwast 523-524
April 10 Urban at Cremona; dealings of William’s
messengers with Urban 525
The Sicilian monarchy; relations between
England and Sicily 525-526
Gerard and William bring Walter of Albano as
Legate; he brings a pallium 526-527
Secrecy of his errand; his interview with the
King; William acknowledges Urban 527-528
Walter refuses to depose Anselm 528-529
William and his counsellors outwitted by the
Legate; he is driven to a reconciliation
with Anselm 529
May 13 Whitsun Assembly; the King’s message to Anselm 530
Anselm will not pay for the pallium; Anselm and
William reconciled; their friendly discourse 531-532
Anselm refuses to take the pallium from the
King 532
Popular aspect of the assembly 533
Anselm absolves two bishops, Osmund of Salisbury
and Robert of Hereford; he restores Wulfrith
of Saint David’s 533-534
June 10 Anselm receives the pallium at Canterbury 534-535
June 26 Death of Bishop Robert of Hereford; the Legate
stays in England; his dealings with Anselm 535-537
The King’s northern march; Anselm entrusted
with the defence of Canterbury 537-538
Letters between Anselm and the Legate; the
bishops object to Anselm’s position; his
answer 538-540
Question about the monks at Christ Church;
Anselm and his tenants 540-541
Christmas, Assembly at Windsor and Salisbury 541-542
1095-1096
January 6 Anselm attends William of Saint-Calais on his
death-bed 541-542
June 6 Consecration of bishops; Samson of Worcester
and Gerard of Hereford 542-544
Anselm consecrates Irish bishops 544
§ 6. _The Crusade and the Mortgage of Normandy.
November 1095-March 1097._
March 7, Council of Piacenza; appeal of the Emperor
1095 Alexios 545
Nov. 18 Council of Clermont; the first crusade 545-547
Bearing of the crusade on our story; no king
engaged in the first crusade; share of
Normandy and Flanders 546-547
The crusades a Latin movement; name of
_Franks_ 546
Decrees of the Council; lay investitures
forbidden; sentence against Clement and the
Emperor; against Philip and Bertrada 548-549
Urban preaches the crusade; his geography 549-550
French, Norman, and other crusaders 550-552
Marriage of Robert of Meulan 551
Duke Robert takes the cross; he applies to
William for money; position of William
towards the crusade 552-553
Mission of Abbot Jeronto; he rebukes William 553-554
Easter, The Pope sends his nephew; peace between
April 13 William and Robert 554-555
Normandy pledged to William 555
June 2 Whitsun Assembly; taxation to raise the
pledge-money; protest of the prelates 556-557
Oppression of the tenants; plunder of the
churches 557-558
Contribution of Anselm; he mortgages Peckham
to his monks 558-559
September, Conferences between William and Robert;
1096 Robert goes on the crusade; his companions 559-560
Conduct of Robert; his treatment at Rome; his
reception by Robert of Apulia 560-561
1096-1097 The crusaders winter in Apulia; siege of
Amalfi; Bohemond takes the cross 562
Feb. 1097 Odo of Bayeux dies at Palermo 563
Duke Robert crosses to Dyrrhachion; he does
homage to Alexios 563-564
Robert at Laodikeia; Hugh of Jaugy joins the
crusaders; the rope-dancers of Antioch 564-565
Robert refuses the crown of Jerusalem and
goes back 566
William takes possession of Normandy;
character of his rule there 566-567
The Côtentin restored to Henry 567
1096 Synod of Rouen; the Truce of God confirmed;
other decrees; small results of the synod 568-569
William’s appointments to Norman prelacies 570
1090-1101 Tancard Abbot of Jumièges 570
1096-1107 Etard Abbot of Saint Peter on Dives 570
1098-1105 Turold Bishop of Bayeux 571
§ 7. _The Last Dispute between William and Anselm. 1097._
Events of the year 1096-1097 571
State of Wales at the end of 1096 571
April, 1097 Assembly at Windsor; Welsh war and seeming
conquest 572
William complains of Anselm’s contingent;
position of the Archbishop’s knights;
Anselm summoned to the King’s court 572-574
Change in Anselm’s feelings; his yearnings
towards Rome; aspect of his conduct 574-578
Causes of his loss of general support 578
His continued demands of reform; he determines
not to answer the summons but to make a
last effort 579-580
May 24, Whitsun assembly; Anselm favourably received;
1097 his last appeal 581
He determines to ask leave to go to Rome; the
King refuses 581-583
June-Aug., The charge against Anselm withdrawn; affairs
1097 of Wales; another assembly; Anselm’s request
again refused 583
Wednesday, Assembly at Winchester; Anselm renews his
October 14 request; he is again impleaded 584-585
Thursday, Anselm and the bishops and lords; speech of
October 15 Walkelin; the bishops’ portrait of
themselves; Anselm’s answer 586-588
Part of the lay lords; Anselm’s promise to
obey the customs; he is charged with breach
of promise; alternatives given him 588-589
Anselm and the King; Anselm’s discourse;
answer of Count Robert; the barons against
Anselm 589-592
Anselm allowed to go, but the archbishopric
to be seized 592-593
Anselm’s last interview with Rufus; he blesses
him 593-594
Anselm at Canterbury; he takes the pilgrim’s
staff 594
His treatment at Dover; he crosses to Whitsand 595
The King seizes the archbishopric; Anselm’s
acts declared null; the monks keep Peckham 595-596
Rebuilding of the choir of Christ Church;
works of Prior Ernulf 596-597
Comparison of the trials of William of
Saint-Calais, Anselm, and Thomas 597-605
Anselm does not strictly appeal to the Pope 598
He asserts no clerical privilege 599
Question of observing the customs 600
Comparison of the proceedings in each case 600-601
Architectural arrangements 601-602
Constitution of the assemblies; they become
less popular; lessened freedom of speech 602-603
The inner and outer council; foreshadowing of
Lords and Commons 603-604
The Witan and the Theningmannagemót 604
Behaviour of Rufus, of Henry the First, of
Henry the Second 605
Effect on Anselm of his foreign sojourn 606
His journey; dealings of Odo of Burgundy; he
reaches Rome 607
Councils of Lateran and Bari; story of the
cope of Beneventum 607-610
Position of Rufus; he is never excommunicated;
probable effect of excommunication 611-612
Anselm at Lyons; his letters to the Pope 612
His letters to the King from Rome; William’s
treatment of the letters 613
Mission of William of Warelwast 614-620
Nov., 1097- William on the Continent 614
April, 1099
Anselm at Schiavia; he writes “Cur Deus Homo” 615
Anselm and Urban before Capua; Anselm and the
Saracens 615-617
Anselm wishes to resign the archbishopric;
Urban forbids him 617-618
October 1, Council of Bari 618
1098
Anselm at Rome; dealings between the Pope and
William of Warelwast; the excommunication
threatened and respited 618-620
Urban’s treatment of Anselm 620-621
April 12, Council of Lateran; protest of Reingard of
1099 Lucca; Anselm goes to Lyons 621-622
July 29 Death of Urban; William’s words on his death 622-623
Aug. 13, 1099-Paschal the Second Pope; William’s words on
Jan. 21, 1108 his election 623
CHRONOLOGY OF THE YEARS 1087-1102.
1087 September 8 William Rufus leaves his father’s death-bed and
hastens to England.
He imprisons Morkere and Wulfnoth.
He is accepted by Lanfranc.
In Normandy Robert of Bellême and others drive out
the Duke’s garrisons.
September 26 William is crowned at Westminster.
He makes gifts for his father’s soul.
December 25- The Christmas assembly. Odo restored to his
1088 January 6 earldom.
Death of Abbot Scotland.
Abbot Guy appointed at Saint Augustine’s.
March Conspiracy against the King. Rebellious movements
in Kent and Sussex.
Bishop William secures London, Dover, and Hastings
for the King.
March-May The Bishop forsakes the King; his temporalities
seized. He is summoned to the King’s court, and
his lands laid waste.
April 16 The Easter assembly; the rebel nobles fail to appear.
April-June Ravaging of Gloucestershire and Somerset.
Deliverance of Worcester.
Attempted invasion of Robert. Sieges of
Tunbridge, Pevensey, and Rochester.
June Return of Rhys; Gruffydd and the wikings harry
Rhuddlan.
Bishop William at the King’s court.
Henry, now Count of the Côtentin, comes to
England for his mother’s lands.
July 3 Death of Robert of Rhuddlan.
July John of Tours consecrated to the bishopric of
Somerset void by the death of Gisa.
August-September Henry and Robert of Bellême go back to Normandy
and are imprisoned.
Duke Robert received at Le Mans; sieges of Ballon
and Saint Cenery.
Henry is released and restored to his county in
the course of the autumn.
September 6 Agreement between Bishop William and the Counts.
September 25 Death of Bishop Geoffrey of Chichester.
November 2 Bishop William before the assembly at Salisbury.
November 14 Durham castle surrendered to the King.
after 26 Bishop William crosses to Normandy.
November ? Grant of the abbey of Bath to Bishop John; the
bishopric of Somerset removed thither.
The priory of Blyth founded in the course of the
year by Roger of Bully.
1089 May 24 Death of Lanfranc.
1090 April 21 Easter assembly at Winchester; war declared
against Normandy.
A large part of eastern Normandy won by William
without crossing the sea.
Maine revolts from Robert; reign of Azo of Este;
Howel imprisoned by Helias and visits England.
June 28 Howel returns to Le Mans.
Intrigues of Conan at Rouen.
November 3 Rouen secured to Duke Robert; death of Conan.
War of Evreux and Conches; peace between them.
Anselm visits England for the first time as abbot
in the course of the year.
December 25- Christmas assembly at Winchester.
1091 January 6
January Siege of Courcy.
February Helias buys the county of Maine from Hugh.
The King crosses to Normandy.
Treaty of Caen.
February William and Robert besiege Henry at Saint Michael’s
Mount.
May Malcolm invades Northumberland and is driven back.
August William, Robert, and Henry go back to England.
March towards Scotland.
September 3 Bishop William restored to his bishopric.
September 29 Loss of ships.
Treaty with Malcolm.
October 15 Fall of the tower at Winchcombe.
October 17 Great wind in London.
Death of Cedivor; victory of Rhys son of Tewdwr
over Gruffydd son of Meredydd in the course of
the year.
In the course of the year come the death of
William Bishop of Thetford, the consecration of
his successor Herbert Losinga, who also buys
the abbey of New Minster for his father, and
the consecration of Ralph Luffa Bishop of
Chichester.
1092 Fire in London.
March 28 Consecration of the church of Salisbury.
April 10 The tower blown down.
May 6 Death of Bishop Remigius; the church of Lincoln
remains unconsecrated.
William’s conquest and colonization of Carlisle.
Marriage of Philip and Bertrada.
September 8 Anselm comes to England; his reception at
Canterbury; his first interview with the King.
Anselm helps Earl Hugh in his changes at Chester.
December 25- Christmas assembly; discussion of the vacancy of
1093 January 6 the archbishopric.
February William refuses leave to Anselm to go back to
Normandy.
February 3 Death of Bishop Geoffrey of Coutances; Ralph
succeeds.
Lent, Sickness of the King; his repentance and
March 2 proclamation; he grants the see of Lincoln to
Robert Bloet.
March 6 The King names Anselm to the archbishopric; his
first installation.
April 17 Easter assembly at Winchester; the King recalls
his reforms.
Scottish embassy at Winchester; Malcolm summoned
to appear in the King’s court.
April 17-24 Defeat and death of Rhys at Brecknock.
April 30 Cadwgan harries Dyfed.
July 1 The Normans enter Ceredigion and Dyfed.
Advance of the Earls in North Wales; seeming
conquest of all Wales.
August 11 Malcolm lays a foundation-stone at Durham.
August 24 Malcolm at Gloucester; William refuses to see him.
Questions between the King and Anselm; his
investiture.
Intrigues of William of Eu; dealings of William
with the Counts of Flanders.
September 25 Enthronement of Anselm.
October 4-13 Death of Robert the Frisian.
October 17 Translation of Saint Julian at Le Mans.
November 13 Death of Malcolm at Alnwick.
November 17 Death of Margaret.
Donald King of Scots; driving out of Margaret’s
children.
December 4 Consecration of Anselm.
Death of Abbot Paul of Saint Alban’s.
Henry received at Domfront and wins back the
Côtentin.
December 25- Christmas assembly at Gloucester.
1094 January 6 Challenge received from Robert; Duncan claims the
Scottish crown and receives it from William.
Contributions for the Norman war; Anselm’s gift
refused.
February 2 Assembly at Hastings.
February 11 Consecration of the church of Battle.
February 12 Robert Bloet consecrated Bishop of Lincoln.
Bishop Herbert of Thetford deprived of his
bishopric.
February 22 Anselm’s Lenten sermon; he rebukes the King.
March 19 William crosses to Normandy.
Campaign of Argentan, Bures, &c.; the French king
bought off.
May The foreigners driven out of Scotland.
October 31 Henry and Earl Hugh summoned to Eu; they sail to
Southampton.
November Duncan killed; Donald’s second reign in Scotland.
December 28 The King goes back to England.
Deaths of Roger of Beaumont, Roger of Montgomery,
and Hugh of Grantmesnil, in the course of the
year.
In the course of the year the Welsh revolt under
Cadwgan and recover the greater part of the
country; Pembroke castle holds out.
1095 January 18 Death of Wulfstan.
February 9 Henry goes to Normandy.
February Interview of William and Anselm at Gillingham.
March 1-7 Council of Piacenza.
March 11-14 Assembly at Rockingham.
Gerard and William of Warelwast sent to Pope
Urban.
March 25 Assembly at Winchester; Earl Robert of Mowbray
summoned, but does not appear.
April 10 Urban at Cremona; Cardinal Walter sent to England.
May 13 Assembly at Windsor; Anselm and William reconciled;
Earl Robert fails to appear.
June 10 Anselm receives the pallium at Canterbury.
June 26 Death of Bishop Robert of Hereford.
April 30 Translation of Saint Eadmund.
The King’s northern march; Anselm’s command in
Kent.
July-Sept. Taking of Newcastle and Tynemouth; siege of
Bamburgh.
Michaelmas Montgomery taken by the Welsh; the King marches
against them.
November 1 The King reaches Snowdon; ill-success of the
campaign.
November 18 Council of Clermont.
Pope Urban at Le Mans.
Robert of Mowbray taken at Tynemouth; surrender
of Bamburgh.
December 25- Christmas assembly at Windsor.
1096 January 6
January 1 Death of Bishop William.
January 13 The assembly adjourned to Salisbury; sentences of
William of Eu, William of Alderi, and others.
Imprisonment of Robert of Mowbray.
Synod of Rouen; confirmation of the Truce of God.
Mission of Abbot Geronto.
Easter, April 13 He is suspended by the Pope’s nephew.
Normandy pledged to William.
June 8 Consecration of Bishop Gerard of Hereford and
Samson of Worcester.
August William takes possession of Normandy.
Helias takes the cross; mutual defiance between
him and William.
September Duke Robert, Bishop Odo, and others go to the
crusade.
The King spends the winter in Normandy.
In the course of the year the Welsh take
Rhyd-y-gors; Gwent and Brecknock revolt; Pembroke
is besieged, but holds out; Gisors is fortified
by Pagan Theobald.
1097 February Odo dies at Palermo.
April 4 William comes back to England.
Assembly at Windsor.
The King’s campaign in Wales; seeming conquest of
the country.
The King complains of Anselm’s knights.
May 14 Whitsun assembly; the charge against Anselm
dropped; he asks leave to go to Rome, but is
refused.
Revolt of Cadwgan in Wales.
June―August The King’s last campaign in Wales; its ill-success.
July 24 Death of Howel; Hildebert Bishop of Le Mans.
August Assembly; an expedition against Donald decreed;
Anselm’s request again refused.
September The two Eadgars march to Scotland; exploits of
Robert son of Godwine; Donald defeated and
blinded; the younger Eadgar King of Scots.
October 14 Assembly at Winchester; Anselm allowed to go, but
his temporalities to be seized; his parting
with the King.
Anselm leaves England.
William demands the French Vexin.
November He crosses to Normandy for the war with France
and Maine. Flambard and Walkelin joint regents.
Nov. 1097― French war; Lewis and William; fortification
Sept. 1098. of Gisors by Robert of Bellême.
December 19 Death of Abbot Baldwin of Saint Eadmund’s.
December 25 The King demands money of Walkelin.
1098 January 3 Death of Walkelin.
January Beginning of the war of Maine; castles occupied
by Robert of Bellême.
Victories of Helias.
April 28 Helias taken prisoner.
May 5 Fulk Rechin at Le Mans.
June The King invades Maine; he retreats from Le Mans.
July 20 William at Ballon.
August Convention between Helias and Fulk.
William enters Le Mans.
Helias set free; he strengthens himself in his
southern castles.
September 27 William’s march against France.
Attacks on Pontoise, Chaumont, and other castles.
Coming of William of Aquitaine; attacks on the
Montfort castles; failure of the two Williams.
October 1 Council of Bari; Anselm pleads for William.
In the course of the year the Welsh withdraw to
Anglesey.
The Earls Hugh in Anglesey.
Expedition of Magnus of Norway; death of Earl
Hugh of Shrewsbury at Aberlleiniog.
Establishment of Robert of Bellême in England;
he buys his brother’s earldom.
His works at Bridgenorth.
He receives the estates of Roger of Bully.
Christmas The King spends the winter in Normandy; truce with
France.
1099 Mission of William of Warelwast to Rome; he wins
over Urban.
April 10 The King in England; Easter assembly.
April 12 Council of Lateran; William’s excommunication
delayed.
Anselm leaves Rome for Lyons.
April Movements of Helias in southern Maine.
May 19 Whitsun assembly in the new hall at Westminster;
the bishopric of Durham granted to Randolf
Flambard.
June 3 Consecration of Flambard.
June-July Helios recovers Le Mans; the King’s garrisons
hold out in the castles; burning of the city.
The news brought to William; his ride and voyage.
Helias leaves Le Mans and strengthens himself at
Château-du-Loir.
William passes through Le Mans to southern Maine.
His failure before Mayet.
He enters Le Mans.
July 5 Taking of Jerusalem; exploits of Duke Robert.
July 12 Duke Robert refuses the crown of Jerusalem;
Geoffrey chosen King.
July 19 Death of Pope Urban the Second.
August 12 Battle of Ascalon.
August 13 Paschal the Second elected Pope.
September The King returns to England.
November 3 The great tide in the Thames.
December 3 Death of Bishop Osmund of Salisbury.
Dec. 25- Christmas assembly at Gloucester.
Jan. 6, 1100
In the course of the year Gruffydd and Cadwgan
return, and Anglesey and Ceredigion are
recovered by the Welsh. Eadgar goes on the
crusade. Affairs of Robert son of Godwine in
Scotland.
1100 April 1 Easter assembly at Winchester.
May 20 Whitsun assembly at Westminster.
Great schemes of William Rufus.
May Death of Richard son of Duke Robert in the New
Forest.
June-July Preparations for war.
July 13 Consecration of Gloucester abbey.
August 1 Abbot Fulchered’s sermon at Gloucester.
August 2 Death of William Rufus.
August 3 Burial of William Rufus; Henry elected King; he
grants the bishopric of Winchester to William
Giffard.
August 5 Coronation of Henry; his charter; he fills the
vacant abbeys.
He imprisons Flambard, and asks Anselm to come
back.
Helias recovers Le Mans; the castle holds out.
September Duke Robert comes back to Normandy.
War between Henry and Robert.
September 23 Anselm comes back to England.
Meeting of Anselm and Henry; question of homage
and investiture; truce till Easter; mission to
the Pope.
November Helias recovers the castle.
November 11 Marriage of Henry and Matilda.
November 18 Death of Archbishop Thomas of York.
Empty legation of Guy of Vienne.
Plots in England on behalf of Robert.
December 25- Christmas assembly at Westminster.
1101 January 6
Escape of Flambard to Normandy; he stirs up
Robert to action.
April 21 Easter assembly at Winchester; the question with
Anselm again adjourned.
Growth of the conspiracy.
June 9 Whitsun assembly; mediation of Anselm; renewed
promise of good laws.
July Robert’s fleet at Tréport; the English fleet sent
against him; some of the crews join him.
Henry’s preparations at Pevensey.
July 20 Robert lands at Portchester; he declines to attack
Winchester.
The armies meet at Alton; conference of Henry and
Robert; the treaty of 1101.
Michaelmas Robert goes back to Normandy.
Henry’s rewards and punishments; banishment of
Ivo of Grantmesnil and others.
Robert of Meulan Earl of Leicester.
December 25- Christmas assembly at Westminster.
1102 January 6
April 6 Easter assembly at Winchester; Robert of Bellême
summoned, but does not appear.
War against Robert of Bellême in England and
Normandy.
Failure of Duke Robert’s troops at Vignats.
Surrender of Arundel to Henry.
Surrender of Tickhill.
Autumn Henry’s Shropshire campaign. Siege of Bridgenorth.
The King wins over Jorwerth and the Welsh.
Dealings of Robert of Bellême with Murtagh and
Magnus.
Surrender of Bridgenorth.
The King’s march to Shrewsbury.
Surrender of Shrewsbury and banishment of Robert
of Bellême and his brothers.
1103 Death of Magnus.
Jorwerth tried at Shrewsbury and imprisoned.
1104 Banishment of William of Mortain.
1106 Battle of Tinchebrai.
1107 Compromise with Anselm.
ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS.
VOL. I.
p. 33, l. 17, dele “the father of one of the men who had crossed the
sea to trouble England.” Robert of Bellême had not come yet; see p.
56.
p. 37, note 3. The comparison of Bristol and Brindisi is a good deal
exaggerated; but a certain measure of likeness may be seen.
p. 94, l. 18, dele “of the same kind.” See the distinction drawn in p.
604.
p. 96, note 2, for “abjuvare” read “abjurare.”
p. 133, note. See vol. ii. p. 330.
p. 180, note. I do not know how “Esparlon”――Épernon――comes to be
reckoned among the possessions of Robert of Bellême. We shall find it
in vol. ii. p. 251 in the hands of the French house of Montfort.
p. 183, l. 4 from bottom, for “Rotrou” read “Geoffrey.”
p. 184, note 1. See vol. ii. p. 396.
p. 214, side-note, for “William of Geroy” read “William son of Geroy.”
p. 217, l. 13, for “uncle” read “brother.”
p. 238, note 3, for “Aunde” read “Aumale.”
p. 243, note 2. I really ought to have mentioned the wonderful forms
of torture which the man of Belial inflicted on his lord and his other
prisoners (Ord. Vit. 705 A, B); “Per tres menses in castro Brehervallo
eos in carcere strinxit, et multotiens, dum nimia hiems sæviret, in
solis camisiis aqua largiter humectatis in fenestra sublimis aulæ
Boreæ vel Circio exposuit, donec tota vestis circa corpus vinctorum in
uno gelu diriguit.”
p. 247, l. 3. I suppose that Walter of Rouen, son of Ansgar, who
appears high in the King’s confidence in vol. ii. pp. 241, 370, is a
brother of this William. This is worth noting, as showing how Rufus
picked out men likely to serve his purpose from all quarters.
p. 251, l. 5. See below, p. 461, note 3. It would be worth enquiring
whether this name _Champ de Mars_ is old or new. There is a _Campus
Martius_ at Autun, whose name is certainly at least mediæval; but, as
it is within the Roman walls, it can hardly date from the first days
of Augustodunum. It divides the upper and lower city, quite another
position from that at Rouen.
p. 298, l. 6. Orderic is hardly fair to Edgar when he says (778 B),
“Hic corpore speciosus, lingua disertus, liberalis et generosus,
utpote Edwardi regis Hunorum filius [see 701 D and N. C. vol. ii. p.
672], sed dextera segnis erat, ducemque sibi coævum et quasi
collectaneum fratrem diligebat.”
p. 302, note 1, for “Witan” read “Gemót.”
p. 307, l. 6. Something of the kind was actually done somewhat later;
see below, p. 435. But that was a challenge through ambassadors.
p. 326, note. In strictness Anselm did not appeal to the Pope at all.
See below, p. 598.
p. 335, l. 15, for “unrighteousness” read “unrighteousnesses.”
p. 353, l. 6 from bottom. I ought not to have forgotten the character
of Ralph Luffa given by William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 205);
“Radulfus proceritate corporis insignis, sed et animi efficacia
famosus, qui contuitu sacerdotalis officii Willelmo juniori in faciem
pro Anselmo archiepiscopo, quem immerito exagitabat, restiterit.
Cumque ille, conscientia potestatis elatus, minas ingeminaret, nihil
alter reveritus baculum protendit, annulum exuit, ut, si vellet,
acciperet. Nec vero vel tunc vel postea austeritatem inflecteret si
assertorem haberet. Sed quia discessu suo spem ejus et ceterorum, si
qui boni essent, Anselmus enervavit, et tunc causa decidit et
postmodum damno succubuit.” This seems at first sight to stand in
contradiction to Eadmer’s picture of all the bishops, except possibly
Gundulf (see below, pp. 497, 513, 516), forsaking and renouncing
Anselm. We can understand that Eadmer would be inclined to make the
worst of the bishops as a body, while William of Malmesbury would be
inclined to make the best of the particular bishop of whom he was
writing. This is one of the passages in which William of Malmesbury in
his second edition watered down the vigorous language of the first. As
he first wrote it, the King appeared as “leo ferocissimus Willelmus
dico minor.” On second thoughts the comparison with the wild beast was
left out.
p. 355, l. 15. I have sent Herbert to Rome at this time, in order to
bring him back for the meeting at Hastings in 1094. See below, pp.
429, 448. I find that some difficulty has arisen on account of the
words of Eadmer (see p. 429), which have been taken as implying that
Herbert joined in the consecration of Anselm. Dr. Stubbs puts him on
the list in the Registrum. But surely the words might be used if all
the bishops came who were in England and able to come.
p. 355, side-note, for “1091-1093” read “1091-1098.” See vol. ii. p.
267.
p. 375, note 6, for “perversitatam” read “perversitatem.”
p. 385, l. 2, for “undoubtedly” read “by himself.”
p. 408, l. 15. There must however have been some exceptions. See the
Additions and Corrections to vol. ii. p. 508.
p. 450, l. 3 from bottom. Yet the guarantors, even on William’s own
side, held him to be in the wrong. See p. 461.
p. 469, note 1. The reference is to the passage of Orderic, quoted in
vol. ii. p. 537. But it is hard to understand how Henry can have been
at war with William in 1094. Yet there is the passage from Sigebert
quoted in p. 471, note 3, where the date must be wrong, but which
seems to hang together both with this passage of Orderic and with the
suspicions on the Kings part implied in the narrative in the
Chronicle.
p. 469, l. 10, and note 3, for “son” read “grandson.”
p. 485, l. 3, for “of” read “to.”
p. 492, l. 2, put semicolon after “within.”
p. 506, note 2. This passage is very singular, especially the words
“nec ipsum advertere posse putaverunt.” On this last point the bishops
seem to have been right, as Anselm himself nowhere puts forward any
such claim to exemption.
p. 516, note 3. Besides the difficulty about Gundulf, there is the
further difficulty about Ralph of Chichester, who, as we have just
seen, is said by William of Malmesbury to have taken Anselm’s side. He
at least stood in no such special position to the Archbishop as the
Bishop of Rochester did.
p. 522, side-note, for “May” read “March.”
p. 546, l. 12. Worthiest certainly when any actual work was to be
done; but the idle sojourn at Laodikeia (see p. 565) makes the general
epithet too strong.
p. 551, l. 10, for “Rotrou” read “Geoffrey.”
p. 571, l. 3. I believe there is no authority for this English form,
“Evermouth,” though it is not unlikely that “Ebremou” may, like so
many other names in Normandy, really be a corruption of some such
Teutonic name. The place is in Eastern Normandy, in the present
department of Lower Seine.
p. 579, note 1. This is that singular use of the words “Christianitas”
and the like which we find in such phrases as “Courts Christian” and
“Deanery of Christianity.” We must not think of such a “subventio
Christianitatis” as the Spanish Bishop sought for at the hands of
Anselm. See vol. ii. p. 582.
p. 586, l. 25. For “three” read “four,” and add the name of Robert
Bloet. He is the Robert referred to in the next page.
p. 604, note 1. The _right_ to be tried is confined to the Peers;
other persons of course may be so tried, if they are impeached by the
Commons.
p. 609, note 1. When I was at Benevento this year (1880), I had hoped
to get a sight of the cope, as the treasury of the metropolitan church
is rich in vestments. But they are all of much later date, and I could
hear nothing of the relic which I sought for.
p. 614, last line. See more in vol. ii. p. 403.
THE REIGN OF WILLIAM RUFUS.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
[Sidenote: Character of the reign of William Rufus.]
[Sidenote: The Norman Conquest in one sense completed, in another
undone.]
[Sidenote: Feudal developement under Rufus and Flambard.]
[Sidenote: Growth of anti-feudal tendencies.]
The reign of the second Norman king is a period of English history
which may well claim a more special and minute examination than could
be given to it when it took its place merely as one of the later
stages in the history of the Norman Conquest, after the great work of
the Conquest itself was done. There is indeed a point of view in which
the first years of the reign of William the Red may be looked on as
something more than one of the later stages of the Conquest. They may
be looked on, almost at pleasure, either as the last stage of the
Conquest or as the reversal of the Conquest. We may give either name
to a struggle in which a Norman king, the son of the Norman Conqueror,
was established on the English throne by warfare which, simply as
warfare, was a distinct victory won by Englishmen over Normans on
English soil. The truest aspect of that warfare was that the Norman
Conquest of England was completed by English hands. But, in so saying,
we must understand by the Norman Conquest of England all that is
implied in that name to its fullest extent. When Englishmen, by armed
support of a Norman king, accepted the fact of the Norman Conquest,
they in some measure changed its nature. In the act of completing the
Conquest, they in some sort undid it. If we hold that the end of the
Conquest came in the days of Rufus, in the days of Rufus also came the
beginnings of the later effects of the Conquest. The reign of William
the Red, the administration of Randolf Flambard, was, above all
others, the time when the feudal side, so to speak, of the Conquest
put on a systematic shape. The King and his minister put into regular
working, if they did not write down in a regular code, those usages
which under the Conqueror were still merely tendencies irregularly at
work, but which, at the accession of Henry the First, had already
grown into abuses which needed redress. But, on the other hand, it was
equally the time when the anti-feudal tendencies of the Conquest, the
causes and the effects of the great law of Salisbury,[1] showed how
firmly they had taken root. The reign of Rufus laid down the two
principles, that, in the kingdom of England, no man should be stronger
than the king,[2] but that the king should hold his strength only by
making himself the head of the state and of the people. As a stage
then in the history of the Conquest and its results, as a stage in the
general constitutional history of England, the thirteen years of the
reign of Rufus form a period of the highest interest and importance.
[Sidenote: Extension of the power of England at home.]
[Sidenote: Wales;]
[Sidenote: Carlisle.]
[Sidenote: Beginning of rivalry between England and France.]
[Sidenote: Wealth of England.]
[Sidenote: Change in the European position of England.]
But those years are a time of no less interest and importance, if we
look at them with regard to the general position of England in the
world. Within our own island, the reign of William the Red was marked
by a great practical extension of the power of England on the Welsh
marches. On another side it was marked yet more distinctly by an
enlargement of the kingdom itself, by the settlement of the
north-western frontier, by the winning for England of a new land, and
by the restoration of a fallen city as the bulwark of the new
boundary. What the daughter of Ælfred was at Chester, the son of the
Conqueror was at Carlisle. Beyond the sea, we mark the beginnings of a
state of things which has ceased only within our own memories. The
rivalry between France and Normandy grows, now that England is ruled
by Norman kings, into a rivalry between France and England. In will,
if not in deed, the reign of Rufus forestalls the reigns of Edward the
Third and Henry the Fifth. It sets England before us in a character
which she kept through so many ages, the character of the wealthy land
which could work with gold as well as with steel, the land whence
subsidies might be looked for to flow into the less well-filled
coffers of the princes of the mainland. In the reign of Rufus we see
England holding an European position wholly different from what she
had held in earlier days. She passes in some sort from the world of
the North into the world of the West. That change was the work of the
Conqueror; but it is under his son that we see its full nature and
meaning. The new place which England now holds is seen to be one which
came to her wholly through her connexion with Normandy; it is no less
seen to be one which she has learned to hold in her own name and by
her own strength.
[Sidenote: Personal character of William Rufus.]
[Sidenote: His companions and adversaries.]
[Sidenote: Anselm and Helias.]
And, if we pass from the domain of political history into the domain
of personal character and personal incident, we shall find few periods
of the same length richer in both. The character of William Rufus
himself, repulsive as from many points it is, is yet a strange and
instructive study of human nature. The mere fact that no prince ever
made a deeper personal impression on the minds of the men of his own
age, the crowd of personal anecdotes and personal sayings which,
whether true or false, bear witness to the depth of that impression,
all invite us to a nearer study of the man of whom those who lived in
his own day found so much to tell, and so much which at first sight
seems strange and contradictory. William Rufus stands before us as the
first representative of a new ideal, a new standard. Our earlier
experiences, English and Norman, have hardly prepared us for the
special place taken by the king who has some claim to rank as the
first distinctly recorded example of the new character of knight and
gentleman. In the company of the Red King we are introduced to a new
line of thought, a new way of looking at things, of which in an
earlier generation we see hardly stronger signs in Normandy than we
see in England. For good and for evil, if William Rufus bears the mark
of his age, he also leaves his mark on his age. His own marked
personality in some sort entitles him to be surrounded, to be
withstood, by men whose personality is also clearly marked. A circle
of well-defined portraits, friends and enemies, ministers and rivals,
gathers around him. Among them two forms stand out before all. The
holy Anselm at home, the valiant Helias beyond the sea, are the men
with whom Rufus has to strive. And the saint of Aosta, the hero of La
Flèche, are men who of themselves are enough to draw our thoughts to
the times and the lands in which they lived. Each, in his own widely
different way, stands forth as the representative of right in the face
of a power of evil which we still feel to be not wholly evil. All
light is not put out, all better feelings are not trampled out of
being, when evil stands in any way abashed before the presence of
good.
[Sidenote: Rufus and England.]
[Sidenote: The last warfare of Normans and English.]
[Sidenote: Results of the struggle.]
[Sidenote: The Conquest accepted and modified.]
[Sidenote: The Norman kingship becomes English.]
[Sidenote: Effects of the French War.]
Looked at simply as a tale, the tale of Rufus and Anselm, the tale of
Rufus and Helias, is worth the telling. But better worth telling still
is the tale of Rufus and England. The struggle which kept the crown
for Rufus, the last armed struggle between Englishmen and Normans on
English ground, the fight of Pevensey and the siege of Rochester, form
a stirring portion of our annals, a portion whose interest yields only
to that of a few great days like the days of Senlac and of Lewes. But
the really great tale is after all that which is more silent and
hidden. This was above all things the time when the Norman Conquest
took root, as something which at once established the Norman power in
England, and which ruled that the Norman power should step by step
change into an English power. The great fact of Rufus’ day is that
Englishmen won the crown of England for a Norman king in fight against
rebellious Normans. On that day the fact of the Conquest was fully
acknowledged; it became something which, as to its immediate outward
effects, there was no longer any thought of undoing. The house of the
Conqueror was to be the royal house; there were to be no more revolts
on behalf of the heir of Cerdic, no more messages sent to invite the
heir of Cnut. And with the kingship of the Norman all was accepted
which was immediately implied in the kingship of the Norman. But on
that day it was further ruled that the kingship of the Norman was to
change into an English kingship. It became such in some sort even
under Rufus himself, when the King of England went forth to subdue
Normandy, to threaten France, to dream at least, as a link between
Civilis and Buonaparte, of an empire of the Gauls.[3] The success of
the attempt, the accomplishment of the dream, would have been the very
overthrow of English nationality; the mere attempt, the mere dream,
helped, if not to strengthen English nationality, at least to
strengthen the national position of England. But these years helped
too, in a more silent way, if not to change the Norman rule at home
into an English rule, at least to make things ready for the coming of
the king who was really to do the work. It was perhaps in the long run
not the least gain of the reign of William the Red that it left for
Henry the Clerk, not only much to do, but also something directly to
undo.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Scheme of the work.]
In a former volume we traced the history of the Conqueror in great
detail to his death-bed and his burial. In another volume we followed,
with a more hasty course, the main features of the reign of William
Rufus, looked at specially as bearing on the history of the Conquest
and the mutual relations of English and Normans. We will now again
take up the thread of our detailed story at the bed-side of the dying
Conqueror, and thence trace the history of his successor, from his
first nomination by his father’s dying voice to his unhallowed burial
in the Old Minster of Winchester. And thence, though the tale of Rufus
himself is over, it may be well to carry on the tale of England
through the struggle which ruled for the second time that England
should not be the realm of the Conqueror’s eldest son, and, as such,
an appendage to his Norman duchy. The accession of Henry is
essentially a part of the same tale as the accession of Rufus. The
points of likeness in the two stories are striking indeed, reaching in
some cases almost to a repetition of the same events. But the points
of unlikeness are yet more striking and instructive. And it is from
them that we learn how much the reign of Rufus had done alike towards
completing the Norman Conquest and towards undoing it.
CHAPTER II.
THE EARLY DAYS OF WILLIAM RUFUS.[4]
1087-1090.
[Sidenote: Character of the accession of Rufus.]
[Sidenote: No formal election.]
[Sidenote: His general acceptance.]
The way by which the second William became fully established on the
throne of his father has some peculiarities of its own, which
distinguish it from the accessions of most English kings, earlier and
later. The only claim of William Rufus to the crown was a nomination
by his father which we are told that his father hardly ventured to
make. Of election by any assembly, great or small, we see no trace.
Yet the new king is crowned, and he receives the national submission
at his crowning, with the fullest outward national consent, with no
visible opposition from any quarter, and, as events proved, with the
hearty good will of the native English part of his subjects. Yet the
King is hardly established in his kingdom before he has to fight for
his crown. William Rufus had, like his father, to win the kingdom of
England by war after he was already its crowned king. But, as regards
those against whom he fought and those at whose head he fought, his
position was the exact reverse of that of his father. Nominated by his
father, elected, one might say, by Lanfranc, crowned with no man
gainsaying him, William Rufus was at last really established in the
royal power by the act of the conquered English. It was they who won
the crown for the son of their Conqueror in fight against his father’s
nearest kinsmen and most cherished comrades.
§ 1. _The Coronation and Acknowledgement of William Rufus. September,
1087._
One prominent aspect of the reign of William Rufus sets him before us
as the enemy, almost the persecutor, of the Church in his realm, as
the special adversary of the ecclesiastical power when the
ecclesiastical power was represented by one of the truest of saints.
And yet there have been few kings whose accession to the throne was in
so special a way the act of the ecclesiastical power. William Rufus
was made king by Lanfranc in a somewhat fuller sense than that in
which every king of those times might be said to be made king by the
prelate who poured the consecrating oil upon his head. Nomination by
the last king, in the form of recommendation to the electors, had
always been taken into account when the people of England came
together to set a new king over them. The nomination of Eadward had
formed a part, though the smallest part, of the right of Harold to
become the chief of his own people.[5] An alleged nomination by
Eadward formed the only plausible part of the claim by which William
asserted his right to thrust himself upon a people of strangers. And
now a nomination by William himself was the only right by which his
second surviving son claimed to succeed to the crown which he had won.
Modern notions of hereditary right would have handed over England as
well as Normandy to the eldest son of the last king. English feeling
at the time would doubtless, if a formal choice had to be made among
the sons of the Conqueror of England, have spoken for his youngest
son. Of all the three Henry alone was a true Ætheling; he alone had
any right to the name of Englishman; he alone was the son of a crowned
king and a man born in the land.[6] But the last wish of William the
Great was that his island crown should pass to William the Red. He had
not, as our fullest narrative tells us, dared to make any formal
nomination to a kingdom which he had in his last days found out to be
his only by wrong. He had not dared to name William as his successor;
he left the kingdom in the hands of God; he only hoped that the will
of God might be that William should reign, and should reign well and
happily.[7] And as the best means of finding out whether the will of
God were so, he left the actual decision to the highest and wisest of
God’s ministers in his kingdom. He gave no orders for the coronation
of Rufus; he simply prayed Lanfranc to crown him, if the Primate
deemed such an act a rightful one.[8] As far as the will of the dying
king went, one alone of the Witan of England, the first certainly
among them alike in rank and in renown, was bidden to make the choice
of the next sovereign on behalf of the whole kingdom.
[Sidenote: Wulf and Duncan set free by Robert.]
The special agency of Lanfranc in the promotion of William Rufus is
noticed by all the writers who give any detailed account of his
accession.[9] Nor was it likely that, when the Archbishop was to be
the one elector, the claims of the candidate should be refused. It
would seem indeed as if Lanfranc doubted for a moment whether he ought
to take upon himself the responsibility of the choice.[10] But
everything must have helped to make him ready to carry out the wishes
of his late master. That they were the Conqueror’s last wishes was no
small matter, and Lanfranc had every personal reason to incline him
the same way. To make William Rufus king was to promote the man who
stood in a special relation to himself, who had been in some sort his
pupil, and whom he had himself girded with the belt of knighthood.[11]
And it really seems as if there was no other elector besides Lanfranc
himself. For once in our history we read of a king succeeding without
any formal election, without any meeting of the Witan before the
coronation. Within three weeks of the death of the first William, the
second William was full king over the land. As soon as he had heard
the last wishes of his father, as soon as the dying king had dictated
the all-important letter which was to express those wishes to the
Primate, William Rufus left the bedside of his father while the breath
was still in him. He started for the haven of Touques, a spot of which
we shall get a vivid picture later in our story. With him set forth
the bearer of the letter, one of the great King’s chaplains, and, as
some say, his Chancellor. This was Robert Bloet, he who was presently
to succeed Remigius of Fécamp in his newly-placed throne on the hill
of Lincoln.[12] Before they had left Norman ground, the news came that
all was over, that England had no longer a king.[13] William crossed
with all speed, seemingly to Southampton, and found in England no
rival, English or Norman. He indeed brought with him two men, either
of whom, if Englishmen had still heart enough to dream of a king of
their own blood, might have been his rival. Among the captives whom
the Conqueror set free on his death-bed were two men who represented
the mightiest of the fallen houses of conquered England. These were
Morkere the son of Ælfgar, once the chosen Earl of the Northumbrians,
and Wulfnoth, the youngest son of Godwine and brother[14] of Harold.
Two other captives of royal blood, Duncan the son of Malcolm and
Ingebiorg, so long a hostage for his father’s doubtful faith to his
over-lord,[15] and Wulf the son of Harold and Ealdgyth, the babe who
had been taken when Chester fell,[16] were set free at the same time.
Duncan and Wulf were in the power of Robert. They in no way threatened
his possession of Normandy, and Robert, with all his faults, did not
lack generous feeling. They were knighted and set free.[17] Of Wulf we
hear no more; Duncan lived to sit for a moment on the throne of his
father. The fate of their fellow-sufferers was harsher. Morkere and
Wulfnoth had come, by what means we know not, into the power of
William. As Morkere had once crossed the sea with the father,[18] he
now came back with the son. But their day of freedom was short. The
son of Godwine and the grandson of Leofric might either of them be
dangerous to the son of William. They therefore tasted the air of
freedom only for a few days. William, acting as already king, went to
his capital at Winchester, and there thrust the delivered captives
once more into the house of bondage.[19] Of Morkere we hear no more;
we must suppose that the rest of his days, few or many, were spent in
this renewed imprisonment. Wulfnoth seems to have been released at
some later time, to enter religion, and to be made the subject of the
praises of a Norman poet.[20]
[Sidenote: Rufus is crowned at Westminster, September 26, 1087.]
Such was the first act of authority done by the new ruler. Having thus
disposed of the men whom he seems to have dreaded, William found no
opposition made to his succession. But it was important for him to
take possession without delay. The time, September, was not one of the
usual seasons for a general assembly of the kingdom, and William could
not afford to wait for the next great festival of Christmas. No native
English competitor was likely to appear; but he must at least make
himself safe against any possible attempts on the part of his brothers
beyond the sea. From Winchester he hastened to the presence of
Lanfranc――seemingly at Canterbury; as the story is told us, it seems
to be taken for granted that it rested with the Primate to give or to
refuse the crown.[21] Whether the younger William himself brought the
news of the death of the elder is not quite clear; but we are not
surprised to hear from an eye-witness that the first feeling of
Lanfranc was one of overwhelming grief at the loss of the king who was
dead, a king who, if he had been to him a master, had also been in so
many things a friend and a fellow-worker.[22] The formal consecration
of his successor was not long delayed; the new king was solemnly
crowned and anointed by the hands of Lanfranc in the minster of Saint
Peter, on Sunday the feast of the saints Cosmas and Damian. So the day
is marked by a scholar who had specially explored the antiquities of
Rome; Englishmen, who knew less of saints whose holy place was by the
Roman forum, were content to mark it by its relation to the great
festival three days later, or even by the mere day of the month.[23]
On that day, before the altar of King Eadward’s rearing, the second
Norman lord of England took the oaths which bound an English king to
the English people. And, besides the prescribed oaths to do justice
and mercy and to defend the rights of the Church, Lanfranc is said to
have bound the new king by a special engagement to follow his own
counsel in all things.[24] William Rufus was thus king, and, if
anything had been lacking in the way of regular election before his
crowning, it was fully made up by the universal and seemingly zealous
acceptance of him at his crowning. “All the men on England to him
bowed and to him oaths swore.”[25] The crown which had passed to
Eadward from a long line of kingly forefathers, the crown which Harold
had worn by the free gift of the English people, the crown which the
first William had won by his sword and had kept by his wisdom, now
passed to the second of his name and house. And it passed, to all
appearance, with the perfect good will of all the dwellers in the
land, conquerors and conquered alike. William the Second, William the
Younger, William the Red, took his place on the seat of the great
Conqueror without a blow being struck or a dog moving his tongue
against him.
[Sidenote: Wealth of the treasury at Winchester.]
[Sidenote: Gifts to churches.]
[Sidenote: Gifts to Battle Abbey.]
[Sidenote: Gifts to the poor.]
The first act of the uncrowned candidate for the kingly office had
been one of harshness――harshness which was perhaps politic in the son,
but which trod under foot the last wishes of a repentant father. The
first act of the crowned King was one which might give good hopes for
the reign which was beginning, and which certainly carried out his
father’s wishes to the letter. From Westminster William Rufus went
again to Winchester, this time not to make fast the bars of his
father’s prison-house, but to throw open the stores of his father’s
treasury. Our native Chronicler waxes eloquent on the boundless wealth
of all kinds, far beyond the powers of any man to tell of, which had
been gathered together in the Conqueror’s hoard during his one and
twenty years of kingship. The Chronicler had, as we must remember,
himself lived in William’s court, and we may believe that his own eyes
had looked on the store of gold and silver, of vessels and robes and
gems and other costly things, which it was beyond the skill of man to
set forth.[26] These were the spoils of England, and from them were
made the gifts which, in the belief of those days, were to win repose
in the other world for the soul of her despoiler. Every minster in
England received, some six marks of gold, some ten, besides gifts of
every kind of ecclesiastical ornament and utensil, rich with precious
metals and precious stones, among which books for the use of divine
service was not forgotten.[27] And, above all, the special foundation
of his father, the Abbey of the Battle, received choicer gifts than
any, the royal mantle of the departed King among them.[28] Every
upland church, every one at all events on the royal lordships,
received sixty pennies.[29] Moreover a hundred pounds in money was
sent into each shire to be given away in alms to the poor for
William’s soul.[30] Such a gift might be bountiful in a small shire
like Bedford, where many Englishmen still kept their own; but it would
go but a little way, even after eighteen years, to undo the work of
the great harrying of Yorkshire. Meanwhile Robert, already received as
Duke of the Normans, was doing the same pious work among the poor and
the churches of his duchy.[31] The dutiful son and the rebel were both
doing their best for the welfare of their father in the other world.
[Sidenote: The Christmas Assembly. 1087-1088.]
[Sidenote: Odo restored to his earldom.]
From Winchester the new King went back to Westminster, and there he
held the Christmas feast and assembly. It was attended by the two
archbishops and by several other bishops, among whom the saint of
Worcester is specially mentioned. At this meeting too appeared Odo of
Bayeux, who received again from his nephew his earldom of Kent.[32]
Released from his bonds by the pardon which had been so hardly wrung
from the dying Conqueror,[33] he already filled the first place in the
councils of the new Duke of the Normans,[34] and he hoped to win the
like power over the mind of his other nephew in England. But before
long events came about which showed how true had been the foresight of
William the Great, when he had said that mighty evils would follow if
his brother should be set free from his prison.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Unusual character of William’s accession.]
[Sidenote: William the only available king at the moment.]
[Sidenote: Comparison between William and Robert.]
[Sidenote: Political bearing of William’s accession.]
It is certainly something unusual in those times for a king thus to
make his way to his crown by virtue, as it were, of an agreement
between a dead king and a living bishop, without either the nobles or
the nation at large either actively supporting or actively opposing
his claim. It is clear that men of both races had very decided views
about the matter; but they gave no open expression to them at the
time. The discussion of the succession came after the coronation,
among men who had already acknowledged the new King. It may be that
all parties were taken by surprise. The accession of William Rufus had
not indeed followed the death of his father with anything like the
same speed with which the accession of Harold had followed the death
of his brother-in-law. But then the death of Eadward had long been
looked for; the succession of Harold had long been practically agreed
on; above all, the Witan were actually in session when the vacancy
took place. Everything therefore could be done at a moment’s notice
with perfect formal regularity. Now everything, if much less sudden,
was much more unlooked for. The kingdom found itself called on to
acknowledge a king whom no party had chosen, but whom no party had at
the moment the means, perhaps not the will, to oppose. The Normans, we
may believe, would, if they had been formally asked, have preferred
Robert. The English, we may be sure, would, if they had been formally
asked, have, at least among Norman candidates, preferred Henry. And
practically the choice lay among Norman candidates only, and among
them Henry was the one who was practically shut out. All hopes, we may
be sure, had passed away of seeking for a king either in the house of
Cerdic, in the house of Godwine, or in the house which, if not the
house of Cnut, was, at least by female succession, the house of his
father Swegen. Of the sons of the Conqueror, Henry, the one who was at
once Norman and Englishman, was young and beyond the sea. William was
in England, with at least his father’s recommendation to support him.
The practical question lay between William and Robert. Was William to
be withstood on behalf of Robert? Between William and Robert there
could at the moment be little doubt in the minds of Englishmen. Their
father’s policy had kept both back from any great opportunity of doing
either good or evil to the conquered kingdom. But, as far as their
personal characters went, Robert had as yet shown his worst side and
William his best. There could be little room for doubt between the man
who had fought against his father and the man who had risked his life
to save his father. And, besides this, the accession of William would
separate England and Normandy. England would again have, if not a king
of her own blood, yet at least a king of her own. The island world
would again be the island world, no longer dependent on, or mixed up
with, the affairs of the world beyond the sea. The harshness which had
again thrust back Morkere and Wulfnoth into prison might be passed by,
as an act of necessary precaution. Morkere too might by this time be
well nigh forgotten, and Wulfnoth had never been known. If a native
king was not to be had, William Rufus was at the moment by no means
the most unpromising among possible foreign kings.
[Sidenote: No real choice.]
[Sidenote: Employment of the treasure.]
But in truth neither Normans nor Englishmen were in this case called
on to make any real choice. Both were called on, somewhat after the
manner of the sham _plebiscita_ of modern France, to acknowledge a
sovereign who was already in possession. Whatever might have been the
abstract preference of the Normans for Robert or of the English for
Henry, neither party felt at the moment that degree of zeal which
would lead them to brave the dangers of opposition. At any rate,
William Rufus was a new king, and a new king is commonly welcome. Men
of both races might reasonably expect that the rule of one who had
come peacefully to his crown would be less harsh than that of one who
had made his entry by the sword. It is further hinted that William
partly owed his recognition to his early possession of his father’s
hoard, perhaps to his careful discharge of his father’s will, perhaps,
even thus early in his reign, to some other discreet application of
his father’s treasures.[35] Certain it is that, from whatever cause,
all men accepted Rufus with all outward cheerfulness, though perhaps
without any very fervent loyalty towards him on any side. It needed
the events of the next few months, it needed strong influences and
strong opposing influences, to turn the Normans in England into the
fierce opponents of the new King, and the native English into his
zealous supporters. It needed the further course of his own actions to
teach both sides how much they had lost when they passed from the rule
of William the Great to that of William the Red.
§ 2. _The Rebellion against William Rufus. March-November, 1088._
[Sidenote: Beginning of the rebellion.]
[Sidenote: Discontent of Odo.]
[Sidenote: Influence of William of Saint-Calais.]
The winter of the year which beheld the Conqueror’s death passed
without any disturbance in the realm of his son.[36] But in the spring
of the next year it became plain that the general acceptance which
Rufus had met with in England was sincere on the part of his English
subjects only. As the native Chronicler puts it, “the land was
mightily stirred and was filled with mickle treason, for all the
richest Frenchmen that were in this land would betray their lord the
King, and would have his brother to King, Robert that was Earl in
Normandy.”[37] The leaders in this revolt were the bishops whom the
Conqueror had clothed with temporal power. And foremost among them was
his brother, the new King’s uncle, Odo Bishop of Bayeux, now again
Earl of Kent; and, according to one account, already Justiciar and
chief ruler in England.[38] But whatever might be his formal position,
Odo soon began to be dissatisfied with the amount of authority which
he practically enjoyed. He seems to have hoped to be able to rule both
his nephews and all their dominions, and, in England at least, to keep
the whole administration in his own hands at least as fully as he had
held it before his imprisonment. In this hope he was disappointed. The
Earl of Kent was not so great a man under the younger William as he
had been under the elder. The chief place in the confidence of the new
King was held by another man of his own order. This was William of
Saint Carilef or Saint Calais, once Prior of the house from which he
took his name, and afterwards Abbot of Saint Vincent’s without the
walls of Le Mans.[39] He had succeeded the murdered Walcher in the see
of Durham, and he had reformed his church according to the fashion of
the time, by putting in monks instead of secular canons.[40] His place
in the King’s counsel was now high indeed. “So well did the King to
the Bishop that all England went after his rede and so as he
would.”[41] Besides this newly born jealousy of the Kings newly chosen
counsellor, Odo had a long standing hatred against the other prelate
who had so long watched over the King, and whose advice the King was
bound by oath to follow.[42] He bore the bitterest grudge against the
Primate Lanfranc, as the inventor of that subtle distinction between
the Bishop of Bayeux and the Earl of Kent which had cost the Earl five
years of imprisonment.[43]
[Sidenote: Action of Odo.]
[Sidenote: March 1, 1088.]
[Sidenote: Gatherings of the rebels.]
[Sidenote: Arguments on behalf of Robert.]
Of the two personages who might thus be joined or separated at
pleasure, it is the temporal chief with whom we have now to deal. Lent
was now come. Of the spiritual exercises of the Bishop of Bayeux
during the holy season we have no record; the Earl of Kent spent the
time plotting with the chief Normans in England how the King might be
killed or handed over alive to his brother.[44] We have more than one
vigorous report of the oratory used in these seditious gatherings.
According to some accounts, they went on on both sides of the sea, and
we are admitted to hear the arguments which were used both in Normandy
and in England.[45] Both agree in maintaining the claims of Robert, as
at once the true successor, and the prince best fitted for their
purpose. But it is on Norman ground that the necessity for an union
between Normandy and England is set forth most clearly. The main
object is to hinder a separation between the two kingdoms, as they are
somewhat daringly called.[46] It is clear that to men who held lands
in both countries it would be a gain to have only one lord instead of
two; but, if we rightly understand the arguments which are put into
the mouths of the speakers, it was held that, if England had again a
king of her own, though it were a king of the Conqueror’s house, the
work of the Conquest would be undone. The men who had won England with
their blood would be brought down from their dominion in the conquered
island.[47] If they have two lords, there will be no hope of pleasing
both; faithfulness to the one will only lead to vengeance on the part
of the other.[48] William was young and insolent, and they owed him no
duty. Robert was the eldest son; his ways were more tractable, and
they had sworn to him during the life-time of his father. Let them
then make a firm agreement to stand by one another, to kill or
dethrone William, and to make Robert ruler of both lands.[49] Robert,
we are told, approved of the scheme, and promised that he would give
them vigorous help to carry it out.[50]
[Sidenote: Speech of Odo.]
[Sidenote: Reasons for preferring Robert to William.]
[Sidenote: Comparison of the elder and younger William.]
These arguments of Norman speakers are given us without the names of
any ringleaders. We may suspect that the real speaker, in the idea of
the reporter, was no other than the Bishop of Bayeux.[51] We hear of
him more distinctly on English ground, haranguing his accomplices
somewhat to the same effect; only the union of the two states is not
so distinctly spoken of. It may be that such a way of putting the case
would not sound well in the ears of men who, if not Englishmen, were
at least the chief men of England, and who might not be specially
attracted by the prospect of another conquest of England, now that
England was theirs. The chief business of the Bishop’s speech is to
compare the characters of the two brothers between whom they had to
choose, and further to compare the new King with the King who was
gone. The speaker seems to start from the assumption that, in the
interests of those to whom he spoke, it was to be wished that the
ruler whom they were formally to acknowledge should be practically no
ruler at all. William the Great had not been a prince to their minds;
William the Red was not likely to be a prince to their minds either.
Robert was just the man for their purpose. Under Robert, mild and
careless, they would be able to do as they pleased; under the stern
and active William they would soon find that they had a master. The
argument that follows is really the noblest tribute that could be paid
to the memory of the Conqueror. It sets him before us, in a portrait
drawn by one who, if a brother, was also an enemy, as a king who did
justice and made peace, and who did his work without shedding of
blood. It is taken for granted that the death of the great king, at
whose death we are told that peaceable men wept and that robbers and
fiends rejoiced,[52] was something from which Odo and men like Odo
might expect to gain. But nothing would be gained, if the rod of the
elder William were to pass into the hands of the younger. The little
finger of the son would be found to be thicker than the loins of the
father. Their release from the rule of the King who was gone would
profit them nothing, if they remained subjects of one who was likely
to slay where his father had merely put in bonds.[53] In this last
contrast, though we may doubt whether there could have been any ground
for drawing it so early in the reign of Rufus, we see that the men of
the time were struck by the difference between the King whose laws
forbade the judicial taking of human life and the King under whom the
hangman began his work again. To pleadings like these we are told that
the great mass of the Norman nobility in England hearkened; a small
number only remained faithful to the King to whom they had so lately
sworn their oaths. Thus, as the national Chronicler puts it, “the
unrede was read.”[54]
[Sidenote: Bishop Geoffrey of Coutances joins the rebels.]
[Sidenote: Treason of the Bishop of Durham.]
[Sidenote: Different statements of his conduct.]
As the chief devisers of the unrede we have the names of two bishops
besides Odo. One name we do not wonder to find along with his.
Geoffrey Bishop of Coutances was a prelate of Odo’s own stamp, one of
whose doings as a wielder of the temporal sword we have heard in
northern, in western, and in eastern England.[55] But we should not
have expected to find as partner of their doings the very man whose
high promotion had filled the heart of Odo with envy. It was indeed
the most unkindest cut of all when the Bishop of Durham, the man in
whose counsel the King most trusted, turned against the benefactor who
had raised him so that all England went at his rede. What higher
greatness he could have hoped to gain by treason it is hard to see.
And it is only fair to add that in the records of his own bishopric he
appears as a persecuted victim,[56] while all the writers of southern
England join in special reprobation of his faithlessness. The one who
speaks in our own tongue scruples not to make use of the most emphatic
of all comparisons. “He would do by him”――that is, Bishop William
would do by King William――“as Judas Iscariot did by our Lord.”[57] We
should certainly not learn from these writers that, after all, it was
the King, and not the Bishop, who struck, or tried to strike, the
first blow.
[Sidenote: His alleged services to the King. Lent, 1088.]
[Sidenote: His action towards London.]
[Sidenote: Early movements in Kent and Sussex. March, 1088.]
It is certainly far from easy to reconcile the different accounts of
this affair. At a time a little later the southern account sets Bishop
William before us as one who “did all harm that he might all over the
North.”[58] But at Durham it was believed that at all events a good
deal of harm had been already done by the King to the Bishop; and the
Bishop claims to have at an earlier time done the best of good service
to the King.[59] That service must have been rendered while the Lenten
conspiracy was still going on; for at no later time does the Bishop of
Durham seem to have been anywhere in the south of England. Then,
according to his own story, the Bishop secured to the King the
possession of Hastings, of Dover, and of London itself. We have only
William of Saint-Calais’ own statement for this display of loyal
vigour on his part; but, as it is a statement made in the hearing of
the King and of the barons and prelates of England, though
exaggeration is likely enough, the whole story can hardly be sheer
invention. Bishop William claims to have kept the two southern havens
in their allegiance when the King had almost lost them. He claims
further to have quieted disturbances in London, after the city had
actually revolted, by taking twelve of the chief citizens to the
King’s presence.[60] Our notes of time show that the events of which
the Bishop thus speaks must have happened at the latest in the very
first days of March. It follows that there must have been at the least
seditious movements in south-eastern England, before the time of the
open revolt in the west. In short, the rebellion in Kent and Sussex
must have begun very early indeed in the penitential season.
[Sidenote: Bishop William’s advice to the King.]
[Sidenote: He forsakes the King.]
[Sidenote: His temporalities seized. March, 1088.]
[Sidenote: He writes to the King.]
[Sidenote: He is summoned to the King’s Court.]
[Sidenote: Action of Ralph Paganel.]
[Sidenote: The lands of the bishopric laid waste. March-May, 1088.]
We gather from the Durham narrative that, even at this early stage,
both Bishop Odo and Earl Roger were already known to the King as
traitors. We gather further that it was by the advice of the Bishop of
Durham that the King was making ready for military operations against
them, and that, when the Bishop was himself summoned to the array, he
made answer that he would at once join with the seven knights whom he
had with him――seven chief barons of the bishopric, as it would
seem――and would send to Durham for more. But, instead of so doing, he
left the King’s court without his leave; he took with him some of the
King’s men, and so forsook the King in his need.[61] Such was
afterwards the statement on the King’s side. Certain it is that,
whatever the Bishop’s fault was, the royal vengeance followed speedily
on it. Early in March, whether with or without the advice of any
assembly,[62] Rufus ordered the temporalities of the bishopric to be
seized, and the Bishop himself to be arrested. The Bishop escaped to
his castle at Durham, whence it would not be easy to dislodge him
without a siege. Meanwhile the King’s men in Yorkshire and
Lincolnshire, though they failed to seize the Bishop’s own person,
took possession in the King’s name of his lands, his money, and his
men. From Durham the Bishop wrote to the King, setting forth his
wrongs, protesting his innocence, and demanding restitution of all
that had been taken from him. He goes on to use words which remind us
in a strange way at once of Godwine negotiating with his royal
son-in-law and of Odo in the grasp of his royal brother. He offers the
services of himself and his men. He offers to make answer to any
charge in the King’s court. But, like Godwine, he asks for a
safe-conduct before he will come;[63] like Odo, he declares that it is
not for every one to judge a bishop, and that he will make answer only
according to his order.[64] On the receipt of this letter, the King at
once, in the sight of the Bishop’s messenger, made grants of the
episcopal lands to certain of his barons;[65] those lands were
therefore looked on as property which had undergone at least a
temporary forfeiture. He however sent an answer to the Bishop, bidding
him come to his presence, and adding the condition that, if he would
not stay with the King as the King wished, he should be allowed to go
back safe to Durham. It must however be supposed that this promise was
not accompanied by any formal safe-conduct; otherwise, though it is
not uncommon to find the officers of a king or other lord acting far
more harshly than the lord himself, it is hard to understand the
treatment which Bishop William met with at the hands of the zealous
Sheriff of Yorkshire. That office was now held by Ralph Paganel, a man
who appears in Domesday as holder of lands in various parts, from
Devonshire to the lands of his present sheriffdom,[66] and who next
year became the founder of the priory of the Holy Trinity at York.[67]
The Bishop, on receiving the King’s answer, sent to York to ask for
peace of the Sheriff. But all peace was refused to the Bishop, to his
messengers, and to all his men. A monk who was coming back from the
King’s presence to the Bishop was stopped; his horse was killed,
though he was allowed to go on on foot. Lastly, the Sheriff ordered
all men in the King’s name to do all the harm that they could to the
Bishop everywhere and in every way. The Bishop was thus cut off from
telling his grievances; and for seven weeks, we are told, the lands of
the bishopric were laid waste.[68] This date brings us into the month
of May, by which time important events had happened in other parts of
England.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: General rebellion.]
[Sidenote: The Easter Gemót. April 16, 1088.]
[Sidenote: The rebels refuse to come.]
We have seen that, in south-eastern England at least, the unrede of
this year’s Lent must have gone beyond mere words, and must have
already taken the form of action. But it seems not to have been till
after Easter that the general revolt of the disaffected nobles broke
forth throughout the whole land. By this time they had all thoroughly
made up their minds to act. And we may add that it is quite possible
that the King’s treatment of the Bishop of Durham may have had some
share in helping them to make up their minds. They may have been led
to think that open rebellion was the safest course. The first general
sign was given at the Easter Gemót of the year, which, according to
rule, would be held at Winchester. The rebel nobles, instead of
appearing to do their duty when the King wore his crown, kept aloof
from his court. They gat them each man to his castle, and made them
ready for war.[69] Soon after the festival the flame burst forth. The
great body of the Norman lords of England were in open revolt against
the son of the man who had made England theirs.
[Sidenote: The rebel nobles.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Mortain]
[Sidenote: and William of Eu.]
[Sidenote: Earl Roger and the border lords.]
[Sidenote: Osbern.]
[Sidenote: Loyalty of Earl Hugh.]
[Sidenote: Rebellion of Robert of Rhuddlan;]
[Sidenote: of Roger the Bigod;]
[Sidenote: of Bishop Geoffrey of Coutances;]
[Sidenote: of Robert of Mowbray.]
The list of the rebel nobles reads like a roll of the Norman leaders
at Senlac or a choice of the names which fill the foremost places in
Domesday. With a few marked exceptions, all the great men of the land
are there. Along with Odo, Bishop and Earl, the other brother of the
Conqueror, Robert of Mortain and of Cornwall, the lord of Pevensey and
of Montacute, joined in the revolt against his nephew.[70] So did
another kinsman, a member of the ducal house of Normandy and gorged
with the spoils of England, William son of Robert Count of Eu,
grandson of the elder William and his famous wife Lescelina.[71] Of
greater personal fame, and of higher formal rank on English soil, was
the father of one of the men who had crossed the sea to trouble
England, Roger of Montgomery, whose earldom of Shrewsbury swells, in
the statelier language of one of our authorities, into an earldom of
the Mercians.[72] He brought with him a great following from his own
border-land. Among these was Roger of Lacy, great in the shires from
Berkshire to Shropshire;[73] and with him came the old enemy Osbern of
Richard’s Castle, whose name carries us back to times that now seem
far away.[74] With Osbern came his son-in-law Bernard of Neufmarché or
Newmarch, sister’s son to the noble Gulbert of Hugleville, the man who
was soon to stamp his memory on the mountain land of Brecheiniog.[75]
From the same border too came the lord of Wigmore, Ralph of
Mortemer.[76] But the treason of the great Earl of the central march
was not followed by his northern neighbour. Hugh of Chester clave to
the King, while the mightiest of his tenants joined the rebels. For
the old Hugh of Grantmesnil raised the standard of revolt in
Northhamptonshire, and in Leicestershire, the land of his
sheriffdom.[77] And his rebellion seems to have carried with it that
of his nephew the Marquess Robert of Rhuddlan, the terror of the
northern Cymry.[78] Robert thus found himself in arms, not only
against his king, but against his immediate and powerful neighbour and
lord Earl Hugh. But the tie which bound a man to his mother’s brother
was perhaps felt to be stronger than duty towards either king or earl.
Along with the lords of the British marches stood the guardian of the
eastern coast of England against the Dane, Roger the Bigod, father of
earls, whose name, fated to be so renowned in later times, appears in
the records of these days with a special brand of evil.[79] And with
Odo and William of Durham a third prelate joined in the unrede, a
prelate the worthy compeer of Odo, the warrior Geoffrey of Coutances,
the bishop who knew better how to marshal mailed knights for the
battle than to teach surpliced clerks to chant their psalms in the
choir.[80] He brought with him the last of the elder succession of
Northumbrian earls, his nephew Robert of Mowbray, tall of stature,
swarthy of countenance, fierce, bold, and proud, who looked down on
his peers and scorned to obey his betters, who loved better to think
than to speak, and who, when he opened his lips, seldom let a smile
soften his stern words.[81] With these leaders were joined a crowd of
others, “mickle folk, all Frenchmen,” as the Chronicler significantly
marks.[82] The sons of the soil, we are to believe, had no part in the
counsels of that traitorous Lent, in the deeds of that wasting Easter.
[Sidenote: Ravages of the rebels.]
[Sidenote: Evidence against the Bishop of Durham.]
[Sidenote: Ravages of Roger Bigod;]
[Sidenote: of Hugh of Grantmesnil.]
The war now began, a war in which, after the example of the chief
combatants, fathers fought against sons, brothers against brothers,
friends against their former friends.[83] The rebel leaders, each from
the point where his main strength lay, began to lay waste the land,
specially the lordships of the King and the Archbishop. And among
these evil-doers the loyal monk of Peterborough distinctly sets down
William of Saint-Calais, meek victim as he seems in the records of his
own house. The Bishop may have argued that he was only returning what
the King had done to him; but the witness is such as cannot be got
over; “The Bishop of Durham did to harm all that he might over all the
north.” Some others of the confederates and their doings are sketched
in a few words by the same sarcastic pen; “Roger hight one of them
that leapt into the castle at Norwich, and did yet the worst of all
over all the land.”[84] So does the English writer speak of the first
Bigod who held the fortress which had arisen on the mound of the
East-Anglian kings.[85] Roger had succeeded to the place, though not
to the rank, of Ralph of Wader, and, as Ralph had made Norwich a
centre of rebellion against the father, so Roger now made it a centre
of rebellion against the son. Then we read how “Hugo eke did nothing
better neither within Leicestershire nor within Northampton.”[86] This
was the way in which the lord of Grantmesnil, so honoured at Saint
Evroul, was looked on in the _scriptorium_ of the house which had once
been the Golden Borough. In some other parts of the country we get
fuller accounts than these of the doers and of what was done. Three
districts in the west and in the south-east of England became the
scene of events which are set down by the writers of the age in
considerable detail.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Bristol and its castle.]
[Sidenote: Bristol in the eleventh century.]
[Sidenote: The chief churches not yet built.]
[Sidenote: Peninsular site of the borough.]
[Sidenote: The two rivers.]
[Sidenote: Changes in later times.]
[Sidenote: The castle.]
[Sidenote: Works of Earl Robert.]
[Sidenote: Growth of the town.]
Of Bristol, the great merchant-haven on the West-Saxon and Mercian
border, we last heard when the sons of Harold failed to make their way
within its walls,[87] and when its greedy slave-traders cast aside,
for a while at least, their darling sin at the preaching of Saint
Wulfstan.[88] The borough was now beginning to put on a new character,
one which, in the disturbances half a century later, won for it the
name of the stepmother of all England.[89] A fortress, the forerunner
of the great work of Robert Earl of Gloucester,[90] had now arisen,
and its presence made Bristol one of the chief military centres of
England down to the warfare of the seventeenth century. The Bristol of
those days had not yet occupied the ground which is now covered by its
two chief ecclesiastical ornaments. The abbey of Saint Augustine, the
creation of Robert Fitz-Harding, had not yet arisen on the lowest
slope of the hills to the west, nor the priory of Saint James, the
creation of Earl Robert, on the ground to the north of the borough.
These foundations arose in the next age on the Mercian ground without
the walls. And any forerunner which may then have been of the church
of Saint Mary on the Red cliff, for ages past the stateliest among the
parish churches of England, stood beyond the walls, beyond the river,
on undisputed West-Saxon ground. The older Bristol lay wholly on the
Mercian side of the Avon, at the point where the Frome of
Gloucestershire still poured its waters into the greater stream in the
sight of the sun.[91] But nowhere, unless at Palermo, have the
relations of land and water been more strangely turned about than they
have been at Bristol. The course of the greater river, though not
actually turned aside, is disguised by cuts and artificial harbours
which puzzle the visitor till the key is found. The lesser stream of
the Frome has had its course changed and shortened, and the remnant
is, like the Fleet of London, condemned by art to the fate which
nature has laid on so many of the rivers of Greece and Dalmatia;[92]
it runs, as in a _katabothra_, under modern streets and houses. The
marshy ground lying at the meeting of the streams has been reclaimed
and covered with the modern buildings of the city. In the twelfth
century, still more therefore in the eleventh, this space was covered
at every high tide, when the waters rushing up the channels of both
rivers made Bristol seem to float on their bosom like Venice or
Ravenna.[93] Of the castle again the more part of its site is covered
by modern buildings; a great part of its moat is filled up; the donjon
has vanished; the green is no longer a green; it is only by searching
that we can find out some parts of the outer walls of the fortress,
and some still smaller parts of the buildings which they fenced
in.[94] But, when the key is once found, it is not hard to follow the
line both of the borough and of the fortress. Bristol belongs to the
same general class of peninsular towns as Châlons, Shrewsbury, Bern,
and Besançon; but, as at Châlons, the height above the rivers is not
great; and it is at Bristol made quite insignificant by comparison
with the hills to the west and north. Yet on the narrow neck of the
isthmus itself, the actual slope towards the streams on either side is
not to be despised. To the west of that isthmus, within the peninsula,
stood the original town, girded to the north by the original course of
the Frome, to the south-west by the marshy ground at the junction of
the rivers.[95] To the west of the isthmus, outside the peninsula,
stood the castle. Standing on the exposed side, open to an attack from
the east, it was fenced in on three sides by a moat joining the two
rivers at either end. A writer of the next age gives us a picture of
Bristol Castle as it then stood, strengthened by all the more advanced
art of that time.[96] But the great keep of Earl Robert, slighted in
the days of the Commonwealth, was not yet. We can only guess at the
state of borough and fortress, as they had stood when the sons of
Harold were driven back from the walls of Bristol, or as they stood
now at the opening of the civil war which we have now reached. But
there are few towns whose general look must have been more thoroughly
unlike what it is now. The central and busy streets which occupy the
area of the older Bristol must, allowing for the difference between
the eleventh century and the nineteenth, still keep the general
character of the old merchant-borough. But few changes can be greater
than those which have affected Bristol both in earlier and in later
times. One period of change first surrounded the elder town with a
fringe of ecclesiastical buildings, and then took them within a more
extended line of wall. Another in later days has swept away well nigh
every trace of the fortress which was so famous both in the twelfth
century and in the seventeenth, and has covered the whole range of the
neighbouring hills with a new and airy city of modern days.
[Illustration:
Map illustrating the SOMERSET AND GLOUCESTERSHIRE CAMPAIGN. 1088.
_For the Delegates of the Clarendon Press._ Edwᵈ. Weller]
[Sidenote: Bristol occupied by Bishop Geoffrey.]
[Sidenote: His relation to the town.]
[Sidenote: His works.]
[Sidenote: Ravages of William of Eu and Robert of Mowbray.]
[Sidenote: Robert burns Bath.]
[Sidenote: He marches through Wiltshire to Ilchester.]
[Sidenote: Position of Ilchester.]
[Sidenote: The siege.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Mowbray driven back from Ilchester.]
The castle of Bristol then, though not perched, like so many of its
fellows, on any lofty height, was placed on a strong and important
site. That site, commanding the lower course of the Avon and the great
borough upon it, and guarding the meeting-place, still of two shires,
as once of two kingdoms, supplied an admirable centre for the work of
those whose object was, not to guard those shires, but to lay them
waste.[97] To that end Bristol was occupied and garrisoned by the
warrior Bishop of Coutances, Geoffrey of Mowbray. It is not unlikely
that he was already in command of the castle. He was not only a
land-owner in the two neighbouring shires, a very great land-owner in
that of Somerset;[98] but the meagre notice of Bristol in the Great
Survey also shows that he stood in some special relation to the
borough as the receiver of the King’s dues within it.[99] He doubtless
added anything that the castle needed in the way of further defences,
and conjecture has attributed to him one of the several lines which
the city walls have taken, that which brought the line of defence most
closely to the banks of the Frome.[100] But whatever were his works,
we have no record of them; we know only that the fierce prelate, at
the head of his partisans, turned Bristol Castle into a den of
robbers. His chief confederates were William of Eu, of whom we have
already spoken[101], and his own nephew Robert of Mowbray. Among them
they harried the land, and brought in the fruits of their harrying to
the castle.[102] The central position of Bristol made a division of
labour easy. Of Bishop Geoffrey’s two younger confederates, Robert
undertook the work in Somerset and William in Gloucestershire. Robert
marched up the valley of the Avon to the Roman town of Bath,
emphatically the “old borough.”[103] At the foot of the hills on
either side, lying, as wicked wits put it, amid sulphureous vapours,
at the gates of hell,[104] the square, small indeed, of the Roman
walls sheltered the abbey of Offa’s rearing, now widowed by the death
of its English abbot Ælfsige.[105] The city had been overthrown by the
arms of Ceawlin; it had lain waste like the City of the Legions;[106]
it had risen again as an English town to share with the City of the
Legions in the two chief glories of the days of the peaceful Eadgar.
If Chester saw his triumph,[107] Bath had seen his crowning. And now
the hand of the Norman, not the Norman Conqueror but the Norman rebel,
fell as heavily on the English borough as the hand of the West-Saxon
invader had fallen five hundred years before. Bath was a king’s town;
as such it drew on itself the special wrath of the rebels; the whole
town was destroyed by fire, to rise again presently in another
character.[108] From Bath, the greatest town of Somerset, but which,
as placed in a corner of the land, has never claimed to be one of its
administrative centres, the destroyer passed on to another town of
Roman origin, which once did aspire to be the head of the Sumorsætan,
but from which all traces of greatness have passed away. From Bath
Robert first marched into Wiltshire, most likely following the line of
the Avon; he there wrought much slaughter and took great spoil. He
then turned to the south-west along the high ground of Wiltshire; he
made his way into the mid parts of Somerset, and laid siege to the
King’s town of Givelceaster, Ivelchester, Ilchester, the Ischalis of a
by-gone day.[109] The town lay at the foot of the most central range
of the hills of Somerset, on the edge of one of the inlets of the
great marshland of Sedgemoor. The site was marked by the junction of
the great line of the Fossway with a number of roads in all
directions. The spot was defended by the river, the Ivel, which gives
the town its English name. Here, at the foot of the high ground, the
stream widens to surround an island, a convenient outpost in the
defences of the town which arose on its southern bank. Ilchester, like
Bath, drew on itself the special enmity of the rebels as being a
king’s town, an enmity likely to be the sharper because Ilchester
stands within sight of Count Robert’s castle of Montacute, and is
divided only by the river from lands which were held by his
fellow-rebel William of Eu.[110] The Ilchester of our day seems a
strange place for a siege; but in the days of the Red King the town
was still surrounded by strong walls, and those walls were defended by
valiant burghers. The walls and gates have perished; the ditches have
been filled up; yet the lasting impress of the four-sided shape of the
Roman _chester_ may still be traced in the direction of the roads and
buildings of the modern town.[111] The importance of Ilchester had
passed away even in the sixteenth century, when of its five or six
churches all but one were in ruins; but, in the times with which we
are dealing, its hundred and seven burgesses, with their market held
in the old forum at the meeting-place of the roads, held no
inconsiderable place among the smaller boroughs of Western England.[112]
What the men of Ilchester had they knew how to defend; the attack and
the defence were vigorously carried on on either side. Our one
historian of the leaguer――he becomes almost its minstrel――tells us how
the besiegers fought for greed of booty and love of victory, while the
besieged fought with a good heart for their own safety and that of
their friends and kinsfolk. The stronger and worthier motive had the
better luck. The dark and gloomy Robert of Mowbray, darker and
gloomier than ever, turned away, a defeated man, from the unconquered
walls of Ilchester.[113]
[Sidenote: William of Eu plunders in Gloucestershire.]
[Sidenote: He harries Berkeley.]
[Sidenote: Position of Berkeley.]
[Sidenote: The castle.]
This utter failure of a man who stands forth in a marked way as one of
the skilful captains of the age was a good omen for success at points
which were still more important in the struggle. Meanwhile the work of
destruction was going steadily on in the lands on the other side of
Bristol, among the flock of the holy Wulfstan. Gloucestershire was
assigned as the province of William of Eu, and he did his work with a
will along the rich valley of the Severn, still the land of pasture,
then also the land of vines.[114] The district called Berkeley Harness
was laid waste with fire and sword, and the town of Berkeley itself
was plundered.[115] Berkeley, once the abode of Earl Godwine and the
scene of the pious scruples of Gytha,[116] is now simply marked as a
king’s town;[117] the abbey had vanished in a past generation; the
famous castle belongs to a later generation; but the place was not
defenceless. Berkeley is indeed one of those places which have become
strongholds almost by accident. It looks up at a crowd of points on
the bold outlying promontories of the Cotswolds, points some of them
marked by the earthworks of unrecorded times, which in Normandy or
Maine could hardly fail to have been seized on for the site of
fortresses far sooner than itself. Nor is it near enough to the wide
estuary of the Severn to have been of any military importance in the
way of commanding the stream. It is rather one of those places where
the English lord fixed his dwelling on a spot which was chosen more as
a convenient centre for his lands than with any regard to purposes of
warfare. The mound, the church, the town, rose side by side on ground
but slightly higher than the rich meadows around them. But the mound
on which the great Earl of the West-Saxons had once dwelled had been,
as usual, turned to Norman military uses. Earl William of Hereford,
whose watchful care stretched on both sides of the river, had crowned
it with what Domesday marks as “a little castle.”[118] One would be
well pleased to know in what such a defence was an advance on the
palisades or other defences which may have surrounded the hall of
Godwine. In after days the “little castle” was to grow into the
historic home of that historic house in whom, whether they themselves
acknowledge it or not, history must see the lineal offspring, not of a
Danish king, but of an English staller.[119] At present however the
savage William of Eu had not to assault the stronghold of Robert, son
of Harding and grandson of Eadnoth, but merely to overcome whatever
resistance could be offered by the _castellulum_ of William
Fitz-Osbern. Its defences were most likely much less strong than the
Roman walls of Ilchester. Berkeley and the coasts thereof were
thoroughly ravaged. On the whole, notwithstanding the defeat of Robert
of Mowbray, the Bishop of Coutances and his lieutenants had done their
work to their own good liking. No small spoil from each of the three
nearest shires had been brought in to the robbers’ hold at Bristol.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Rebel centre at Hereford.]
[Sidenote: Action of Earl Roger.]
Meanwhile the same work was going on busily to the north and
north-west of Bishop Geoffrey’s field of action. Of the movements in
Herefordshire and Worcestershire we have fuller accounts, accounts
which, before we have done, land us from the region of military
history into that of hagiography. The centre of mischief in this
region was at Hereford. The city which Harold had called back into
being, and where William Fitz-Osbern had ruled so sternly, had now no
longer an earl; the rebel Roger was paying the penalty of his treason
at some point far away alike from Hereford, from Flanders, and from
Breteuil.[120] The city had now the King for its immediate lord. It
was presently seized by Roger of Lacy,[121] and was turned into a
meeting-place for the disaffected. The host that came together is
marked as made up of “the men that eldest were of Hereford, and the
whole shire forthwith, and the men of Shropshire with mickle folk of
Bretland.”[122] Some of their names, besides that of Roger of Lacy, we
have heard already.[123] And we are significantly told that the men of
Earl Roger――the men of Shropshire――were with them, a formula which
seems specially meant to shut out the presence of the Earl
himself.[124] And though the leaders were “all Frenchmen,”[125] yet
among their followers were men of all the races of the land. Not only
Normans and Britons, but Englishmen also, were seen in the rebel
ranks. So it seemed, if not in the general prospect as it was looked
at from distant Peterborough, yet at least in the clearer view which
men took from the watch-towers of more nearly threatened
Worcester.[126]
[Sidenote: The rebels march on Worcester.]
[Sidenote: 1055.]
[Sidenote: 1041.]
[Sidenote: Deliverance of Worcester.]
[Sidenote: Action of Wulfstan.]
[Sidenote: Position of Worcester.]
[Sidenote: Wulfstan called to the command.]
[Sidenote: Wulfstan enters the castle.]
[Sidenote: Advance of the rebels.]
[Sidenote: Sally of the royal forces.]
[Sidenote: Wulfstan curses the rebels.]
[Sidenote: Victory of the king’s men.]
For it was the “faithful city” of after days on which the full storm
of the Western revolt was meant to burst. The Norman lords of the
border, with their British allies, now marched on Worcester, as,
thirty-three years before, an English earl of the border, with his
British allies, had marched on Hereford.[127] They came of their own
will to deal by Worcester, shire and city, as, forty-seven years
before, English earls had been driven against their will to deal with
them at the bidding of a Danish king.[128] “They harried and burned on
Worcestershire forth, and they came to the port itself, and would then
the port burn and the minster reave, and the King’s castle win to
their hands.”[129] But Worcester was not doomed to see in the days of
the second William such a day as Hereford had seen in the days of
Eadward, as Worcester itself had seen in the days of Harthacnut. The
port was not burned, the minster was not reaved, nor was the King’s
castle won into the hands of his enemies. And the deliverance of
Worcester is, with one accord, assigned by the writers of the time to
the presence within its walls of its bishop, the one remaining bishop
of English blood, whose unshaken loyalty had most likely brought the
special wrath of the rebels upon his city and flock. The holy Wulfstan
was grieved at heart for the woes which seemed coming upon his people;
but he bade them be of good courage and trust in the Lord who saveth
not by sword or spear.[130] The man who had won the heart of
Northumberland for Harold,[131] who had saved his own city for the
first William,[132] was now to save it again for the second. At
Worcester, castle, minster, and episcopal palace rose side by side
immediately above the Severn. But Worcester is no hill city like
Durham or Le Mans. The height above the stream is slight; the
subordinate buildings of the monastery went down almost to its banks.
The mound, traditionally connected with the name of Eadgar the
Giver-of-peace, has now utterly vanished; it then stood to the south
of the monastery, and had become, as elsewhere, the kernel of the
Norman castle. It will be remembered that it was the sacrilegious
extension of its precincts at the hands of Urse of Abetot which had
brought down on him the curse of Ealdred.[133] But by this time the
new minster of Wulfstan’s own building, whose site, we may suppose,
was further from the castle, that is, more to the north, than that of
the church of Oswald,[134] was, if not yet finished, at least in
making. It may be that at this moment the two minsters――the elder one
which has wholly passed away, the newer, where Wulfstan’s crypt and
some other portions of his work still remain among the recastings of
later times,――both stood between the mound of Eadgar and its Norman
surroundings, and the bishop’s dwelling, whatever may have been its
form in Wulfstan’s day. Still along the line of the river, lay the
buildings of the city further to the north, with the bridge leading to
the meadows and low hills beyond the stream, backed by the varied
outline of the heights of Malvern, the home of the newly-founded
brotherhood of Ealdwine.[135] At the moment when the rebels drew near
to Worcester, all the inhabitants of the city, of whatever race or
order, were of one heart and of one soul under the inspiration of
their holy Bishop. Like the prophets and judges of old, Wulfstan
suddenly stands forth as first, if not in military action, at least in
military command. We know not whether the fierce Sheriff or some
captain of a milder spirit formally bore rule in the castle. But we
read that the Norman garrison, by whom the mild virtues of the English
bishop were known and loved, practically put him at their head. They
prayed him to leave his episcopal home beyond the church, and to take
up his abode with them in the fortress. If danger should be pressing,
they would feel themselves all the safer, if such an one as he were
among them.[136] Wulfstan agreed to their proposal, and set out on the
short journey which he was asked to make, a journey which the
encroachments of the Sheriff had made shorter than it should have
been.[137] On his way he was surrounded by the inhabitants of
Worcester of all classes, all alike ready for battle. He himself had,
after the new fashion of Norman prelates, a military following,[138]
and the soldiers of the King and of the Bishop, with all the citizens
of Worcester, now came together in arms. From the height of the castle
mound, Wulfstan and his people looked forth beyond the river. The foes
were now advancing; they could be seen marching towards the city, and
burning and laying waste the lands of the bishopric.[139] Soldiers and
citizens now craved the Bishop’s leave to cross the river and meet the
enemy. Wulfstan gave them leave, encouraging them by his blessing, and
by the assurance that God would allow no harm to befall those who went
forth to fight for their King and for the deliverance of their city
and people.[140] Grieved further by the sight of the harrying of the
church-lands, and pressed by the urgent prayer of all around him,
Wulfstan pronounced a solemn anathema against the rebellious and
sacrilegious invaders.[141] The loyal troops, strengthened by the
exhortations and promises of their Bishop, set forth. The bridge was
made firm; the defenders of Worcester marched across it;[142] and the
working of Wulfstan’s curse, so the tradition of Worcester ran, smote
down their enemies before them with a more than human power. The
invaders, scattered over the fields for plunder, were at once
overtaken and overthrown. Their limbs became weak and their eyes dim;
they could hardly lift their weapons or know friend from foe.[143] The
footmen were slaughtered; the horsemen, Norman, English, and Welsh,
were taken prisoners; of the whole host only a few escaped by flight.
The men of the King and of the Bishop marched back to Worcester――so
Worcester dutifully believed――without the loss of a single man from
their ranks. They came back rejoicing in the great salvation which had
been wrought by their hands, and giving all thanks to God and his
servant Wulfstan.[144]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Movements of Odo in Kent.]
[Sidenote: Tunbridge and Pevensey.]
Among the sorrows which rent the breast of the holy Bishop of
Worcester, one may have been to see a man of his own order, one whom
he had, somewhat strangely perhaps, honoured with his friendship,
acting as a temporal leader in the rebellion against which he had to
wield his spiritual arms. It was, it may be remembered, Geoffrey of
Mowbray, the lord of the robbers’ hold at Bristol, who had rebuked the
lamb-like simplicity of Wulfstan’s garb.[145] The lamb of Severnside
had now overthrown alike the wolves of Normandy and the wild cats of
the British hills. But, if Wulfstan mourned over the evil deeds of the
warlike Bishop of Coutances, he had no such personal cause for grief
over either the sins or the sorrows of another bishop who was
meanwhile, like himself, besieged in an episcopal city. That bishop
however was not, like Wulfstan, defending his own flock with either
spiritual or temporal arms; he was doing all the wrong in his power to
the flock of another. The source and leader of the whole
mischief,[146] Odo, Bishop and Earl, chose his own earldom of Kent for
the scene of his ravages. Our notes of time are very imperfect, and we
have seen that there were movements in Kent, movements in which Odo
seems to have had a share, much earlier in the year.[147] But it would
seem that the great outbreak of rebellion in south-eastern England
happened about the same time as the great outbreaks more to the west
and north. As the Bishop of Coutances had fixed his head-quarters in
the castle of Bristol, so the Bishop of Bayeux now fixed his
head-quarters in the castle of Rochester, and thence ravaged the lands
of the King and the Archbishop.[148] Another great Kentish fortress,
that of Tunbridge, was also in rebellion. So in Sussex was Pevensey,
the very firstfruits of the Conquest, where Odo’s brother Count Robert
also held out against the King. These three fortresses now become the
busy scene of our immediate story; but the centre of all is the post
occupied by the Bishop of Bayeux and Earl of Kent. This part of the
war is emphatically the war of Rochester.
[Illustration:
Map illustrating the KENT AND SUSSEX CAMPAIGN. A.D. 1088.
_For the Delegates of the Clarendon Press._ Edwᵈ. Weller]
[Sidenote: Early history of Rochester.]
[Sidenote: Importance of its position.]
[Sidenote: The later castle.]
[Sidenote: The cathedral church.]
[Sidenote: The castle site fortified by the Conqueror.]
[Sidenote: The city.]
[Sidenote: Nature of the site.]
[Sidenote: The castle occupied by Odo.]
[Sidenote: Odo asks Robert to come.]
The city by the Medway had been a fortress from the earliest times. We
have seen that it had already played a part both in foreign and in
civil wars. In the days of Æthelred it still kept the Roman walls
parts of which still remain, walls which were then able to withstand
two sieges, one at the hands of the King himself, and one at those of
the Danish invaders.[149] In truth the position of Rochester, lying on
the road from London to Canterbury, near to the sea on a navigable
river, made it at all times a great military post.[150] The chief
ornament of the city did not yet exist in the days of Odo. The noble
tower raised in the next age by Archbishop Walter of Corbeuil, the
tower which in one struggle held out against John[151] and in the next
held out for his son,[152] and still remains one of the glories of
Norman military architecture, had perhaps not even a forerunner of its
own class.[153] And the minster of Saint Andrew, which the
enlargements of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries have still left
one of the least among the episcopal churches of England, had then
only the lowly forerunner which had risen, which perhaps was still
only rising, under the hands of Gundulf.[154] But the steep scarped
cliff rising above the broad tidal stream was a stronghold in the
Conqueror’s days, as it had doubtless been in days long before his.
Whether a stone castle had yet been built is uncertain; the fact that
such an one was built for William Rufus by Gundulf later in his reign
might almost lead us to think that as yet the site, strong in itself,
was defended only by earthworks and defences of timber.[155] Below the
castle to the south-east lay the city, doubtless fenced by the Roman
wall; and a large part of its space had now begun to form the monastic
precinct of Saint Andrew. The town is said to have been parted from
the castle by a ditch which, as at Le Mans and at Lincoln, was
overleaped by the enlarged church of the twelfth century;[156] in any
case the castle, in all its stages, formed a sheltering citadel to the
town at its feet. Neither town nor castle by itself occupies a
peninsular site; but a great bend of the river to the south makes the
whole ground on which they stand peninsular, with an extent of marshy
ground between the town and the river to the north and east. The
stronghold of Rochester, no lofty natural peak, no mound of ancient
English kings, perhaps as yet gathering round no square keep of the
new Norman fashion, but in any case a well-defended circuit with its
scarped sides strengthened by all the art of the time, was the chief
fortress of the ancient kingdom over which the Bishop of Bayeux now
ruled as Earl. It now became, under him, the great centre of the
rebellion. Gundulf, renowned as he was for his skill in military
architecture, must have been sore let and hindered in the peaceful
work of building his church and settling the discipline of his
monks,[157] when his brother bishop filled the castle with his men of
war, five hundred of his own knights among them.[158] But Odo was not
satisfied with his garrison. He sent beyond sea to Duke Robert for
further help. The prince in whose name Rochester was now held was
earnestly prayed to come at once at the head of the full power of his
duchy, to take possession of the crown and kingdom which were waiting
for his coming.[159]
[Illustration:
ROCHESTER
_For the Delegates of the Clarendon Press._ E. Weller]
[Sidenote: The news brought to Robert.]
[Sidenote: He sends over Eustace of Boulogne and Robert of Bellême.]
[Sidenote: Three sons of Earl Roger at Rochester.]
[Sidenote: Hugh of Montgomery.]
[Sidenote: Roger of Poitou.]
[Sidenote: Action of Earl Roger.]
[Sidenote: He stays at Arundel.]
[Sidenote: Position of Arundel.]
[Sidenote: A castle at Arundel T. R. E.]
[Sidenote: Description of the castle.]
[Sidenote: William of Warren at Lewes.]
[Sidenote: His earldom of Surrey.]
[Sidenote: His loyalty.]
According to the narrative which we are now following, it would seem
that Robert now heard for the first time of the movement which was
going on in his behalf in England. His heart is lifted up at the
unlooked for news; he tells the tidings to his friends; certain of
victory, he sends some of them over to share in the spoil; he promises
to come himself with all speed, as soon as he should have gathered a
greater force.[160] At the head of the party which was actually sent
were two men whose names are familiar to us.[161] One of them, Count
Eustace of Boulogne, united the characters of a land-owner in England
and of a sovereign prince in Gaul. This was the younger Eustace, the
son of the old enemy of England, the brother of the hero who was
within a few years to win back the Holy City for Christendom.[162]
With him came Robert of Bellême; his share in the rebellion is his
first act on English ground that we have to record. Himself the eldest
son of Earl Roger of Shrewsbury, he had either brought with him two of
his brothers, or else they had already embraced the cause of Odo in
England. Three sons of Roger and Mabel were now within the walls of
Rochester.[163] The second was Hugh, who was for a moment to represent
the line of Montgomery while Robert represented the line of Bellême,
and who was to be as fierce a scourge to the Britons of the Northern
border as Robert was to be to the valiant defenders of the land of
Maine.[164] And with them was the third brother, Roger of Poitou, the
lord of the debateable land between Mersey and Ribble,[165] carrying
as it were to the furthest point of the earldom of Leofric the claim
of his father to the proud title which the elder Roger bears at this
stage of our story. It is as Earl of the Mercians that one teller of
our tale bids us look for a moment on the lord of Montgomery and
Shrewsbury.[166] But the Earl of the Mercians was not with his sons at
Rochester any more than he had been with his men before Worcester. He
was in another seat of his scattered power. His presence was less
needed at Shrewsbury, less needed at the continental or the insular
Montgomery, than it was in the South-Saxon land where the lord of
Arundel and Chichester held so high a place. While his men were
overthrown before Worcester, while his sons were strengthening
themselves at Rochester, Earl Roger himself was watching events in his
castle of Arundel.[167] The spot was well fitted for the purpose.
Arundel lies in the same general region of England as the three great
rebel strongholds of Rochester, Tunbridge, and Pevensey; it lies in
the same shire and near the same coast as the last named of the three.
But it lies apart from the immediate field of action of a campaign
which should gather round those three centres. A gap in the Sussex
downs, where the Arun makes its way to the sea through the flat land
at its base, had been marked out, most likely from the earliest times,
as a fitting spot for a stronghold. The last slope of this part of the
downs towards the east was strengthened in days before King William
came with a mound and a ditch, and Arundel is marked in the Great
Survey as one of the castles few and far between which England
contained before his coming.[168] The shell-keep which crowns the
mound, and the gateway which flanks it, have been recast at various
later times from the twelfth century onward, but it would be rash to
assert that the mere wall of the keep may not contain portions either
of the days of King William or of the days of King Eadward. The traces
of a vast hall, more immediately overlooking the river, reared as
usual on a vaulted substructure, almost constrain us to see in them
the work of no age earlier or later than that of Roger or his
successor of his own house.[169] The site is a natural watchtower,
whence the eye ranges far away to various points of the compass, over
the flat land and over the more distant hills, and over the many
windings of the tidal river which then made Arundel a place of trade
as well as of defence.[170] Less threatening than his vulture’s nest
at _Tre Baldwin_,[171] less tempting to an enemy than his fortresses
on the peninsula of Shrewsbury and within the walls of Chichester,[172]
the stronghold of Arundel seems exactly the place for an experienced
observer of men and things like Earl Roger to look out from and bide
his time. He had to watch the course of things in the three rebel
fortresses; he had further to watch what might come from a nearer
spot, another break in the hill ground, where, between his doubtful
Arundel and rebellious Pevensey, the twin mounds of loyal Lewes,[173]
the home of William and Gundrada, looked up to what was one day to be
the battle-ground of English freedom. Its lord, long familiar to us as
William of Warren, stood firm in his allegiance, and it was now,
according to some accounts, that he received his earldom of Surrey, an
earldom to be borne in after times along with that which took its name
from Roger’s own Arundel.[174] William became the King’s chief
counsellor, and his position at Lewes must have thrown difficulties in
the way of any communication between Arundel and Pevensey. And in
truth, when Earl Roger found it safest to watch and be prudent, we are
not surprised to find events presently shaping themselves in such a
way as to make it his wisest course to play the part of the Curio of
the tale.[175]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Action of the King.]
[Sidenote: He wins over Earl Roger.]
[Sidenote: Count Robert at Pevensey.]
But meanwhile where was King William? Where was the king who had taken
his place on his father’s seat with so much ease, but whose place upon
it had been so soon and so rudely shaken? We have been called on more
than once in earlier studies to mark how the two characters of fox and
lion were mingled in the tempers of the Conqueror and his countrymen,
and assuredly the Conqueror’s second surviving son was fully able to
don either garb when need called for it.[176] At this moment we are
told in a marked way that William Rufus showed himself in the
character of that which is conventionally looked on as the nobler
beast. He had no mind to seek for murky holes, like the timid fox,
but, like the bold and fearless lion, he gave himself mightily to put
down the devices of his enemies.[177] Yet the first time when we
distinctly get a personal sight of him, the Red King is seen playing
the part of the fox with no small effect. Earl Roger was assuredly no
mean master of Norman craft; but King William, in his first essay,
showed himself fully his equal. By a personal appeal he won the Earl
over from at least taking any further personal share in the rebellion.
At some place not mentioned, perhaps at Arundel itself, the Earl,
disguising, we are told, his treason, was riding in the King’s
company.[178] The King took him aside, and argued the case with him.
He would, he said, give up the kingdom, if such was really the wish of
the old companions of his father. He knew not wherefore they were so
bitter against him; he was ready, if they wished it, to make them
further grants of lands or money. Only let them remember one thing;
his cause and theirs were really the same; it was safer not to dispute
the will of the man who had made both him and them what they were.
“You may,” wound up Rufus, “despise and overthrow me; but take care
lest such an example should prove dangerous to yourselves. My father
has made me a king, and it was he alone who made you an earl.”[179]
Roger felt or affected conviction, and followed the King, in his
bodily presence at least, during the rest of the campaign.[180] But
Robert, Count of Mortain and lord of Cornwall, still made Pevensey one
of the strongholds of the revolt. Of the third great neighbour of
these two lords, Count Robert of Eu, father of the ravager of
Berkeley, we hear nothing on this side of the water.
[Sidenote: Loyal Normans.]
[Sidenote: Earl Hugh.]
[Sidenote: William of Warren.]
[Sidenote: Robert Fitz-hamon.]
[Sidenote: Forces on the side of Rufus,]
[Sidenote: the Church, and the people.]
[Sidenote: Loyalty of the Bishops.]
[Sidenote: The King appeals to the English.]
[Sidenote: His proclamation.]
[Sidenote: His promises.]
[Sidenote: The English take up the King’s cause.]
[Sidenote: Motives for supporting William.]
But, amid the general falling away, the throne of William Rufus was
still defended by some men of Norman birth on whom he could better
rely than on the doubtful loyalty of the Earl of Shrewsbury. Earl Hugh
of Chester remained faithful; so, as we have seen, did Earl Roger’s
neighbour, now or afterwards Earl William.[181] And to these already
famous names we must add one which was now only beginning to be heard
of, but which was presently to equal, if not to surpass, the renown of
either. This was Robert Fitz-hamon, the son or grandson of Hamon
_Dentatus_, the rebel of Val-ès-dunes.[182] But it was not on the
swords of the Norman followers of his father that the son of the
Conqueror rested his hopes of keeping the crown which the Conqueror
had left him. William Rufus had at his side two forces, either of
which, when it could put forth its full power, was stronger by far
than the Norman nobles. All that in any way represented the higher
feelings and instincts of man was along with him. All that in any
shape was an embodiment of law or right was arrayed against the men
whose one avowed principle was the desire to shake off the restraints
of law in any shape. Against the openly proclaimed reign of
lawlessness the King could rely on the strength of the Church and the
strength of the people. With the single exception of him of Durham,
the marauding bishops of Bayeux and Coutances found no followers among
the men of their order in England. Lanfranc stood firmly by the King
to whom he had given the crown; and the other bishops, of whatever
origin, sought, we are told, with all faithfulness of purpose, the
things which were for peace.[183] Either by their advice or by his own
discernment, the King saw that his only course was to throw himself on
the true folk of the land, to declare himself King of the English in
fact as well as in name. A written proclamation went forth in the name
of King William, addressed, doubtless in their own ancient tongue, to
the sons of the soil, the men of English kin. The King of the English
called on the people of the English, on the valiant men who were left
of the old stock; he set forth his need to them and craved for their
loyal help.[184] At such a moment he was lavish of promises. All the
wrongs of the days of William the Elder were to be put an end to in
the days of William the Younger. The English folk should have again
the best laws that ever before were in this land. King William would
reign over his people like Eadward or Cnut or Ælfred. The two great
grievances of his father’s days were to cease; the King’s coffers were
no longer to be filled by money wrung from his people; the King’s
hunting-grounds were no longer to be fenced in by the savage code
which had guarded the Conqueror’s pleasures. All unrighteous geld he
forbade, and he granted to them their woods and right of hunting.[185]
At the sound of such promises men’s hearts were stirred. At such
moments, men commonly listen to their hopes rather than to their
reason; the prospects and promises of a new reign are always made the
best of; and there was no special reason as yet why the word of
William the Red should be distrusted. He had not conquered England; he
had not as yet had the means of oppressing England; he had shown at
least one virtue in dutiful attachment to his father; his counsellor
was the venerated Primate; chief in loyalty to him was one yet more
venerated, the one native chief left to the English Church, the holy
Bishop of Worcester. If the English dealt with William as an English
king, he might deal with them as an English king should deal with his
people. In fighting for William against the men who had risen up
against him, they would be fighting for one who had not himself
wronged them against the men who had done them the bitterest of
wrongs. If the Bishop of Bayeux and the Bishop of Coutances, if Robert
of Mortain and Robert of Mowbray, if Eustace of Boulogne and the
fierce lord of Bellême, could all be smitten down by English axes or
driven into banishment from the English shores, if their estates on
English soil could be again parted out as the reward of English
valour, the work of the Norman Conquest would indeed seem to be
undone. And it would be undone none the less, although the king whose
crown was made sure by English hands was himself the son of the
Conqueror of England.
[Sidenote: Loyalty of the English.]
[Sidenote: They meet in London.]
[Sidenote: William’s English army.]
[Sidenote: Their zeal in his cause.]
[Sidenote: William accepted as the English king.]
With such feelings as these the sons of the soil gathered with glee
around the standard of King William. Not a name is handed down to us.
We know not from what shires they came or under what leaders they
marched. We see only that, as was natural when the stress of the war
lay in Kent and Sussex, the trysting-place was London.[186] How did
that great city stand at this moment with regard to the rebellion? It
will be remembered by what vigorous means Bishop William of Durham
claimed to have secured the allegiance of the citizens some time
earlier.[187] At all events, whether by the help of William of
Saint-Calais or not, London was now in the King’s hands. There the
royal host met, a motley host, a host of horse and foot, of Normans
and English, but a host in which the English element was by far the
greatest, and in which English feeling gave its character to the whole
movement. Thirty thousand of the true natives of the land came
together of their own free will to the defence of their lord the
King.[188] The figures are of much the same value as other figures; it
is enough if we take them as marking a general and zealous movement.
The men who were thus brought together promised the King their most
zealous service; they exhorted him to press on valiantly, to smite the
rebels, and to win for himself the Empire of the whole island.[189]
This last phrase is worth noting, even if it be a mere flourish of the
historian. It marks that the change of dynasty was fully accepted,
that the son of the Conqueror was fully acknowledged as the heir of
all the rights of Æthelstan the Glorious and of Eadmund the
Doer-of-great-deeds. A daughter of their race still sat on the
Scottish throne; but for Malcolm, the savage devastator of Northern
England, Englishmen could not be expected to feel any love. William
was now their king, their king crowned and anointed, the lord to whom
their duty was owing as his men.[190] Him they would make fast on the
throne of England; for him they were ready to win the Empire of all
Britain. The English followers of Rufus loudly proclaimed their hatred
of rebellion. They even, we are told, called on their leader to study
the history of past times, where he would see how faithful Englishmen
had ever been to their kings.[191]
[Sidenote: William’s march.]
[Sidenote: English hatred of Odo.]
At the head of this great and zealous host William the Red set forth
from London. He set forth at the head of an English host, to fight
against Norman enemies in the Kentish and South-Saxon lands. And in
that host there may well have been men who had marched forth from
London on the like errand only two-and-twenty years before. Great as
were the changes which had swept over the land, men must have been
still living, still able to bear arms, who had dealt their blows in
the _Malfosse_ of Senlac amidst the last glimmerings of light on the
day of Saint Calixtus. The enemy was nationally and even personally
the same. The work before all others at the present moment was to
seize the man whose spiritual exhortations had stirred up Norman
valour on that unforgotten day, and whose temporal arm had wielded, if
not the sword, at least the war-club, in the first rank of the
invaders. Odo, the invader of old, the oppressor of later days, the
head and front of the evil rede of the present moment, was the
foremost object of the loyal and patriotic hatred of every Englishman
in the Red King’s army. Could he be seized, it would be easier to
seize his accomplices.[192] The great object of the campaign was
therefore to recover the castle of Rochester, the stronghold where the
rebel Bishop, with his allies from Boulogne and from Bellême, bade
their defiance to the King and people of England.
[Sidenote: Tunbridge castle.]
[Sidenote: Attack on the castle.]
[Sidenote: Position of Tunbridge.]
[Sidenote: The castle stormed.]
It was not however deemed good to march at once upon the immediate
centre of the rebellion. A glance at the map will show that it was
better policy not to make the attack on Rochester while both the other
rebel strongholds, Tunbridge and Pevensey, remained unsubdued. The
former of these, a border-post of Kent and Sussex, guarding the upper
course of the stream that flows by Rochester, would, if won for the
King, put a strong barrier between Rochester and Pevensey. The march
on Rochester therefore took a roundabout course, and this part of the
war opened by an attack on Tunbridge which was the first exploit of
the Red King’s English army. At a point on the Medway about four miles
within the Kentish border, at the foot of the high ground reaching
northward from the actual frontier of the two ancient kingdoms, the
winding river receives the waters of several smaller streams, and
forms a group of low islands and peninsulas. On the slightly rising
ground to the north, commanding the stream and its bridge, a mound had
risen, fenced by a ditch on the exposed side to the north. This
ancient fortress had grown into the castle of Gilbert the son of
Richard, called of Clare and of Tunbridge, the son of the famous Count
Gilbert of the early days of the Conqueror.[193] As Tunbridge now
stands, the outer defences of the castle stand between the mound and
the river, and the mound, bearing the shell-keep, is yoked together in
a striking way with one of the noblest gateways of the later form of
mediæval military art.[194] The general arrangements of the latter
days of the eleventh century cannot have been widely different. The
mound, doubtless a work of English hands turned to the uses of the
stranger, was the main stronghold to be won. It was held by a body of
Bishop Odo’s knights, under the command of its own lord Gilbert; to
win it for the King and his people was an object only second to that
of seizing the traitor prelate himself. The rebel band bade defiance
to the King and his army. The castle held out for two days; but the
zeal of the English was not to be withstood; no work could be more to
their liking than that of attacking a Norman castle on their own soil,
even with a Norman King as their leader. The castle was stormed; the
native Chronicler, specially recording the act of his countrymen,
speaks of it, like the castles of York in the days of Waltheof, as
“tobroken.”[195] Most likely the buildings on the mound were thus
“tobroken;” but some part of the castle enclosure must have been left
habitable and defensible. For the garrison, with their chief Gilbert,
were admitted to terms; and Gilbert, who had been wounded in the
struggle, was left there under the care of a loyal guard.
[Sidenote: They march towards Rochester.]
[Sidenote: Odo at Pevensey.]
[Sidenote: Odo exhorts Robert of Mortain to hold out.]
The first blow had thus gone well to the mark. Such an exploit as
this, the capture by English valour of one of the hated strongholds of
the stranger, was enough to raise the spirit of William’s English
followers to the highest pitch. And presently they were summoned to a
work which would call forth a yet fiercer glow of national feeling.
After Tunbridge had fallen, they set forth on their march towards
Rochester, believing that the arch-enemy Odo was there. Their course
would be to the north-east, keeping some way from the left side of the
Medway; Bishop Gundulf’s tower at Malling,[196] if it was already
built, would be the most marked point on the road. But they were not
to reach Rochester by so easy a path. While they were on their way,
news came to the King that his uncle was no longer at Rochester. While
the King was before Tunbridge, the Bishop with a few followers had
struck to the south-east, and had reached his brother’s castle of
Pevensey.[197] The Count of Mortain and lord of Cornwall was perhaps
wavering, like his neighbour at Arundel. The Bishop exhorted him to
hold out. While the King besieged Rochester, they would be safe at
Pevensey, and meanwhile Duke Robert and his host would cross the sea.
The Duke would then win the crown, and would reward all their
services.[198]
[Sidenote: Interest of Duke Robert in the rebellion.]
[Sidenote: His coming looked for.]
[Sidenote: He fails to help the rebels.]
[Sidenote: His childish boasting.]
[Sidenote: His promises.]
It is well to be reminded by words like these what the professed
object of the insurgents was. It would be easy to forget that all the
plundering that had been done from Rochester to Ilchester had been
done in the name of the lawful rights of Duke Robert. The men who
harried Berkeley and who were overthrown at Worcester were but the
forerunners of the Duke of the Normans, who was to come, as spring
went on, with the full force of his duchy.[199] It was not for nothing
that King William had gathered his English army, when a new Norman
Conquest was looked for. But as yet the blow was put off; Duke Robert
came not; he seemed to think that the crown of England could be won
with ease at any moment. When the first news of William’s accession
came, when those around him urged him to active measures to support
his rights, he had spoken of the matter with childish scorn. Were he
at the ends of the earth――the city of Alexandria is taken as the
standard of distance――the English would not dare to make William king,
William would not dare to accept the crown at their hands, without
waiting for the coming of his elder brother.[200] Both the impossible
things had happened, and Robert and his partisans had now before them
the harder task of driving William from a throne which was already
his, instead of merely hindering him from mounting it. Up to this time
Robert had done nothing; but now, in answer to the urgent prayers of
his uncles, he did get together a force for their help, and promised
that he would himself follow it before long.[201]
[Sidenote: William marches on Pevensey.]
[Sidenote: The English besiege Odo in Pevensey.]
[Sidenote: The castle of Pevensey.]
The news of Odo’s presence at Pevensey at once changed the course of
William’s march. Wherever the Bishop of Bayeux was, there was the
point to be aimed at.[202] Instead of going on to Rochester, the King
turned and marched straight upon Pevensey. The exact line of his march
is not told us, but it could not fail to cross, perhaps it might for a
while even coincide with, the line of march by which Harold had
pressed to the South-Saxon coast on the eve of the great battle.
Things might seem to have strangely turned about, when an English
army, led by a son of the Conqueror, marched to lay siege to the two
brothers and chief fellow-workers of the Conqueror within the
stronghold which was the very firstfruits of the Conquest. The Roman
walls of Anderida were still there; but their whole circuit was no
longer desolate, as it had been when the Conqueror landed, and as we
see it now again. One part of the ancient city had again become a
dwelling-place of man. As Pevensey now stands, the south-eastern
corner of the Roman enclosure, now again as forsaken as the rest, is
fenced in by the moat, the walls, the towers, of a castle of the later
type, the type of the Edwards, but whose towers are built in evident
imitation of the solid Roman bastions. Then, or at some earlier time,
the Roman wall itself received a new line of parapet, and one at least
of its bastions was raised to form a tower in the restored line of
defence. When the house of Mortain passed away in the second
generation, the honour of Pevensey became the possession of the house
of Laigle, and from them, perhaps in popular speech, certainly in the
dialect of local antiquaries, Anderida became the Honour of the
Eagle.[203] Within the circuit of the later castle, close on the
ancient wall, rises, covered with shapeless ruins, a small mound which
doubtless marks the site of the elder keep of Count Robert. Within
that keep the two sons of Herleva, Bishop and Count, looked down on
the shore close at their feet where they had landed with their
mightier brother two-and-twenty years before. Within that stern
memorial of their victory, they had now to defend themselves against
the sons and brothers of men who had fallen by their hands, and whose
lands they had parted out among them for a prey.
[Sidenote: The siege of Pevensey.]
[Sidenote: Duke Robert at last sends help.]
[Sidenote: Robert stays behind.]
[Sidenote: The English hinder the Normans from landing.]
[Sidenote: Utter failure of the invasion.]
The siege of Pevensey proved a far harder work than the siege of
Tunbridge. The Roman wall with its new Norman defences was less easy
to storm than the ancient English mound. William the Red had to wait
longer before Pevensey than William the Great had had to wait before
Exeter. The fortress was strong; the spirit of its defenders was high;
for Odo was among them. The King beset the castle with a great host;
he brought the artillery of the time to bear upon its defences; but
for six weeks his rebellious uncles bore up against the attacks of
William and his Englishmen.[204] And, while the siege went on, another
of the chances of war seemed yet more thoroughly to reverse what had
happened on the same spot not a generation back. Again a Norman host
landed, or strove to land, within the haven of Pevensey. But they came
under other guidance than that which had led the men who came before
them on the like errand. When William crossed the sea, his own Mora
sailed foremost and swiftest in the whole fleet, and William himself
was the first man in his army to set foot on English ground. William
in short led his fleet; his son only sent his. Robert still tarried in
Normandy; he was coming, but not yet; his men were to make their way
into England how they could without him. They came, and they found the
South-Saxon coast better guarded than it had been when Harold had to
strive against two invaders at once. When Robert’s ships drew nigh,
they found the ships of King William watching the coast; they found
the soldiers of King William lining the shore.[205] On such a spot, in
such a cause, no Englishman’s heart or hand was likely to fail him.
The attempt at a new Norman landing at Pevensey was driven back. Those
who escaped the English sailors drew near to the shore, but only to
fall into the hands of the English land-force. It must not be
forgotten that, as the coast-line then stood, when the sea covered
what is now the low ground between the castle and the beach, the
struggle for the landing must have gone on close under the walls of
the ancient city and of the new-built castle. The English who beat
back the Normans of Duke Robert’s fleet as they strove to land must
have been themselves exposed to the arrows of the Normans who guarded
Count Robert’s donjon. But the work was done. Some of the invaders
lived to be taken prisoners; but the more part, a greater number than
any man could tell, were smitten down by the English axes or thrust
back to meet their doom in the waves of the Channel. Some who deemed
that they had still the means of escape tried to hoist the sails of
their ships and get them back to their own land. But the elements
fought against them. The winds which had so long refused to bring the
fleet of William from Normandy to England now refused no less to take
back the fleet of Robert from England to Normandy. And there were no
means now, as there had been by the Dive and at Saint Valery, for
waiting patiently by a friendly coast, or for winning the good will of
the South-Saxon saints by prayers or offerings.[206] Even Saint Martin
of the Place of Battle had no call to help the eldest son of his
founder against his founder’s namesake and chosen heir. The ships
could not be moved; the English were upon them; the Normans, a
laughing-stock to their enemies, rather than fall into their enemies’
hands, leaped from their benches into the less hostile waters. The
attempt of the Conqueror’s eldest son to do by deputy what his father
had done in person had utterly come to nought. The new invaders of
England had been overthrown by English hands on the spot where the
work of the former invaders had begun.
[Sidenote: Alleged death of William of Warren.]
[Sidenote: The castle surrenders.]
[Sidenote: Terms granted to Odo.]
[Sidenote: Rochester to be surrendered.]
[Sidenote: The garrison refuse to surrender; Odo taken prisoner by his
own friends.]
After the defeat of this attempt to bring help to the besieged at
Pevensey, nothing more was heard of Duke Robert’s coming in person. If
we may believe a single confused and doubtful narrative, the defenders
of the castle had at least the satisfaction of slaying one of the
chief men in the royal army. We are told that Earl William of Warren
was mortally wounded in the leg by an arrow from the walls of
Pevensey, and was carried to Lewes only to die there.[207] However
this may be, the failure of the Norman expedition carried with it the
failure of the hopes of the besieged. Food now began to fail them, and
Odo and Robert found that there was nothing left for them but to
surrender to their nephew on the best terms that they could get. Of
the terms which were granted to the Count of Mortain and lord of
Cornwall we hear nothing. The Bishop of Bayeux and Earl of Kent was a
more important person, and we have full details of everything that
concerned him. The terms granted to the chief stirrer up of the whole
rebellion were certainly favourable. He was called on to swear that he
would leave England, and would never come back, unless the King sent
for him, and that, before he went, he would cause the castle of
Rochester to be surrendered.[208] For the better carrying out of the
last of his engagements, the Bishop was sent on towards Rochester in
the keeping of a small body of the King’s troops, while the King
himself slowly followed.[209] No further treachery was feared; it was
taken for granted that those who held the castle for Odo would give it
up at once when Odo came in person to bid them do so. These hopes were
vain; the young nobles who were left in the castle, Count Eustace,
Robert of Bellême, and the rest, were not scrupulous as to the faith
of treaties, and they had no mind to give up their stronghold till
they were made to do so by force of arms. Odo was brought before the
walls of Rochester. The leaders of the party that brought him called
on the defenders of the castle to surrender; such was the bidding
alike of the King who was absent and of the Bishop who was there in
person. But Odo’s friends could see from the wall that the voices of
the King’s messengers told one story, while the looks of the Bishop
told another. They threw open the gates; they rushed forth on the
King’s men, who were in no case to resist them, and carried both them
and the Bishop prisoners into the castle.[210] Odo was doubtless a
willing captive; once within the walls of Rochester, he again became
the life and soul of the defence.
[Sidenote: William’s _Niðing_ Proclamation.]
[Sidenote: The second English muster.]
[Sidenote: The siege of Rochester.]
[Sidenote: Straits of the besieged.]
[Sidenote: Plague of flies.]
[Sidenote: They agree to surrender.]
It perhaps did not tend to the moral improvement of William Rufus to
find himself thus shamefully deceived by one so near of kin to
himself, so high in ecclesiastical rank. At the moment the treachery
of Odo stirred him up to greater efforts. Rochester should be won,
though it might need the whole strength of the kingdom to win it. But
the King saw that it was only by English hands that it could be won.
He gathered around him his English followers, and by their advice put
out a proclamation in ancient form bidding all men, French and
English, from port and from upland, to come with all speed to the
royal muster, if they would not be branded with the shameful name of
_Nithing_. That name, the name which had been fixed, as the lowest
badge of infamy, on the murderer Swegen,[211] was a name under which
no Englishman could live; and it seems to have been held that
strangers settled on English ground would have put on enough of
English feeling to be stirred in the like sort by the fear of having
such a mark set upon them. What the Frenchmen did we are not told; but
the _fyrd_ of England answered loyally to the call of a King who thus
knew how to appeal to the most deep-set feelings and traditions of
Englishmen.[212] Men came in crowds to King William’s muster, and, in
the course of May, a vast host beset the fortress of Rochester.
According to a practice of which we have often heard already, two
temporary forts, no doubt of wood, were raised, so as to hem in the
besieged and to cut off their communications from without.[213] The
site of one at least of these may be looked for on the high ground to
the south of the castle, said to be itself partly artificial, and
known as Boley Hill.[214] The besieged soon found that all resistance
was useless. They were absolutely alone. Pevensey and Tunbridge were
now in the King’s hands; since the overthrow of Duke Robert’s fleet,
they could look for no help from Normandy; they could look for none
from yet more distant Bristol or Durham. Till the siege began, they
had lived at the cost of the loyal inhabitants of Kent and London. For
not only the Archbishop, but most of the chief land-owners of Kent
were on the King’s side.[215] This is a point to be noticed amid the
general falling away of the Normans. For the land-owners of Kent, a
land where no Englishman was a tenant-in-chief, were a class
preeminently Norman. But we can well believe that the rule of Odo, who
spared neither French nor English who stood in his way,[216] may have
been little more to the liking of his own countrymen than it was to
that of the men of the land. But all chance of plunder was now cut
off; a crowd of men and horses were packed closely together within the
circuit of the fortress, with little heed to health or cleanliness.
Sickness was rife among them, and a plague of flies, a plague which is
likened to the ancient plague of Egypt, added to their distress.[217]
There was no hope within their own defences, and beyond them a host
lay spread which there was no chance of overcoming. At last the heart
of Odo himself failed him. He and his fiercest comrades, Eustace of
Boulogne, even Robert of Bellême, at last brought themselves to crave
for peace at the hands of the offended and victorious King.
[Sidenote: Lesson of the war: the King stronger than any one noble.]
[Sidenote: Odo and Roger of Montgomery.]
[Sidenote: The unity of England.]
It was a great and a hard lesson which Odo and his accomplices learned
at Pevensey and Rochester. It was the great lesson of English history,
the great result of the teaching of William the Great on the day of
Salisbury, that no one noble, however great his power, however strong
the force which he could gather round him, could strive with any hope
of success against the King of the whole land. In the royal army
itself Odo might see one who had risen as high as himself among the
conquerors of England, the father of the fiercest of the warriors who
stood beside him, following indeed the King’s bidding, but following
it against his will. Roger of Montgomery was in the host before
Rochester, an unwilling partner in a siege which was waged against his
own sons. Both he and other Normans in the King’s army are charged
with giving more of real help to the besieged than they gave to the
King whom they no longer dared to withstand openly.[218] But it was in
vain that even so great a lord as Earl Roger sought to strive or to
plot against England and her King. The policy of the Conqueror,
crowning the work of earlier kings, had made England a land in which
no Earl of Kent or of Shrewsbury could gather a host able to withstand
the King of the English at the head of the English people.[219] When
the days came that kings were to be brought low, it was not by the
might of this or that overgrown noble, but by the people of the land,
with the barons of the land acting only as the first rank of the
people. Those days were yet far away; but an earlier stage in the
chain of progress had been reached. The Norman nobles had taken one
step towards becoming the first rank of the English people, when they
learned that King and people together were stronger than they.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Rufus refuses terms to the besieged.]
[Sidenote: The King’s threats.]
[Sidenote: Pleadings for the besieged.]
[Sidenote: Answer of the King.]
[Sidenote: Pleadings for Odo.]
[Sidenote: Pleadings for Eustace and Robert of Bellême.]
The defenders of Rochester had brought themselves to ask for peace;
but they still thought that they could make terms with their
sovereign. Let the King secure to them the lands and honours which
they held in his kingdom, and they would give up the castle of
Rochester to his will; they would hold all that they had as of his
grant, and would serve him faithfully as their natural lord.[220] The
wrath of the Red King burst forth, as well it might. Odo at least was
asking at Rochester for more favourable terms than those to which he
had already sworn at Pevensey. William answered that he would grant no
terms; he had strength enough to take the castle, whether they chose
to surrender it or not. And the story runs that he added――not
altogether in the spirit of his father――that all the traitors within
the walls should be hanged on gibbets, or put to such other forms of
death as might please him.[221] But those of his followers who had
friends or kinsfolk within the castle came to the King to crave mercy
for them. A dialogue follows in our most detailed account, in which
the scriptural reference to the history of Saul and David may be set
down as the garnish of the monk of Saint Evroul, but which contains
arguments that are likely enough to have been used on the two sides of
the question. An appeal is made to William’s own greatness and
victory, to his position as the successor of his father. God, who
helps those who trust in him, gives to good fathers a worthy offspring
to come after them. The men in the castle, the proud youths and the
old men blinded by greediness, had learned that the power of kings had
not died out in the island realm. Those who had come from
Normandy――here we seem to hear an argument from English mouths――sweeping
down upon the land like kites, they who had deemed that the kingly
stock had died out in England, had learned that the younger William
was in no way weaker than the elder.[222] Mercy was the noblest
attribute of a conqueror; something too was due to the men who had
helped him to his victory, and who now pleaded for those who had
undergone enough of punishment for their error. Rufus is made to
answer that he is thankful both to God and to his faithful followers.
But he fears that he should be lacking in that justice which is a
king’s first duty, if he were to spare the men who had risen up
against him without cause, and who had sought the life of a king who,
as he truly said, had done them no harm.[223] The Red King is made to
employ the argument which we have so often come across on behalf of
that severe discharge of princely duty which made the names of his
father and his younger brother live in men’s grateful remembrance. He
fears lest their prayers should lead him away from the strait path of
justice. He who spares robbers and traitors and perjured persons takes
away the peace and safety of the innocent, and only sows loss and
slaughter for the good and for the unarmed people.[224] This course is
one which the Red King was very far from following in after years; but
it is quite possible that he may have made such professions at any
stage of his life, and he may have even made them honestly at this
stage. But on behalf of the chiefest of all culprits, the counsellors
of mercy had special arguments. Odo is the King’s uncle, the companion
of his father in the Conquest of England. He is moreover a bishop, a
priest of the Lord, a sharer in the privileges to which, in one side
of his twofold character, he had once appealed in vain. The King is
implored not to lay hands on one of Odo’s holy calling, not to shed
blood which was at once kindred and sacred. Let the Bishop of Bayeux
at least be spared, and allowed to go back to his proper place in his
Norman diocese.[225] Count Eustace too was the son of his father’s old
ally and follower――the invasion which Eustace’s father had once
wrought in that very shire seems to be conveniently forgotten.[226]
Robert of Bellême had been loved and promoted by his father; he held
no small part of Normandy; lord of many strong castles, he stood out
foremost among the nobles of the duchy.[227] It was no more than the
bidding of prudence to win over such men by favours, and to have their
friendship instead of their enmity.[228] As for the rest, they were
valiant knights, whose proffered services the King would do well not
to despise.[229] The King had shown how far he surpassed his enemies
in power, riches, and valour; let him now show how far he surpassed
them in mercy and greatness of soul.[230]
[Sidenote: The King yields.]
[Sidenote: He grants terms.]
[Sidenote: Odo asks for the honours of war.]
[Sidenote: Humiliation of Odo.]
[Sidenote: Wrath of the English against him.]
[Sidenote: He leaves England for ever.]
To this appeal Rufus yielded. It was not indeed an appeal to his
knightly faith, which was in no way pledged to the defenders of
Rochester. But it was an appeal to any gentler feelings that might be
in him, and still more so to that vein of self-esteem and
self-exaltation which was the leading feature in his character. If
Rufus had an opportunity of showing himself greater than other men, as
neither justice nor mercy stood in the way of his making the most of
it, so neither did any mere feeling of wrath or revenge. As his
advisers told him, he was so successful that he could afford to be
merciful, and merciful he accordingly was. To have hanged or blinded
his enemies would not have so distinctly exalted himself, as he must
have felt himself exalted, when those who had defied him, those who
had tried to make terms with him, were driven to accept such terms as
he chose to give them. The Red King then plighted his faith――and his
faith when once so plighted was never broken――that the lives and limbs
of the garrison should be safe, that they should come forth from the
castle with their arms and horses. But they must leave the realm; they
must give up all hope of keeping their lands and honours in England,
as long at least as King William lived.[231] To these terms they had
to yield; but Odo, even in his extremity, craved for one favour. He
had to bear utter discomfiture, the failure of his hopes, the loss of
his lands and honours; but he prayed to be at least spared the public
scorn of the victors. His proud soul was not ready to bear the looks,
the gestures, the triumphant shouts and songs, of the people whom he
had trodden to the earth, and who had now risen up to be his
conquerors. He asked, it would seem, to be allowed to march out with
what in modern phrase are called the honours of war. His particular
prayer was that the trumpets might not sound when he and his followers
came forth from the castle. This, we are told, was the usual ceremony
after the overthrow of an enemy and the taking of a fortress.[232] The
King was again wrathful at the request, and said that not for a
thousand marks of gold would he grant it.[233] Odo had therefore to
submit, and to drink the cup of his humiliation to the dregs. With sad
and downcast looks he and his companions came forth from the
stronghold which could shelter them no longer. The trumpets sounded
merrily to greet them.[234] But other sounds more fearful than the
voice of the trumpet sounded in the ears of Odo as he came forth. Men
saw passing before them, a second time hurled down from his high
estate――and this time not by the bidding of a Norman king but by the
arms of the English people――the man who stood forth in English eyes as
the imbodiment of all that was blackest and basest in the foreign
dominion. Odo might keep his eyes fixed on the ground, but the eyes of
the nation which he had wronged were full upon him. The English
followers of Rufus pressed close upon him, crying out with shouts
which all could hear, “Halters, bring halters; hang up the traitor
Bishop and his accomplices on the gibbet.” They turned to the King
whose throne they had made fast for him, and hailed him as a national
ruler. “Mighty King of the English, let not the stirrer up of all evil
go away unharmed. The perjured murderer, whose craft and cruelty have
taken away the lives of thousands of men, ought not to live any
longer.”[235] Cries like these, mingled with every form of cursing and
reviling, with every threat which could rise to the lips of an
oppressed people in their day of vengeance, sounded in the ears of Odo
and his comrades.[236] But the King’s word had been passed, and the
thirst for vengeance of the wrathful English had to be baulked. Odo
and those who had shared with him in the defence of Rochester went
away unhurt; but they had to leave England, and to lose all their
English lands and honours, at least for a season. But Odo left England
and all that he had in England for ever.[237] The career of the Earl
of Kent was over; of the later career of the Bishop of Bayeux we shall
hear again.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: End of the rebellion.]
[Sidenote: Order of events.]
[Sidenote: The Whitsun Assembly. June 4, 1088.]
[Sidenote: Confiscations and grants.]
[Sidenote: Amnesty of the chief rebels.]
The rebellion was now at an end in southern England. Revolt had been
crushed at Worcester, at Pevensey, and at Rochester, and we hear
nothing more of those movements of which Bishop Geoffrey had made
Bristol the centre, and which had met with such a reverse at the hands
of the gallant defenders of Ilchester. The chronology of the whole
time is very puzzling. We have no exact date for the surrender of
Rochester; we are told only that it happened in the beginning of
summer.[238] But, as the siege of Pevensey lasted six weeks,[239] it
is impossible to crowd all the events which had happened since Easter
into the time between Easter and Whitsuntide. Otherwise the
pentecostal Gemót would have been the most natural season for some
acts of authority which took place at some time during the year. The
King was now in a position to reward and to punish; and some
confiscations, some grants, were made by him soon after the rebellion
came to an end. “Many Frenchmen forlet their land and went over sea,
and the King gave their land to the men that were faithful to
him.”[240] Of these confiscations and grants we should be glad to have
some details. Did any dispossessed Englishmen win back their ancient
heritage? And, if so, did they keep their recovered heritage,
notwithstanding the amnesty which at a somewhat later time restored
many of the rebels? One thing is clear, that the Frenchmen who are now
spoken of were not the men of highest rank and greatest estates among
the rebellious Normans. For them there was an amnesty at once. Them,
we are told, the King spared, for the love of his father to whom they
had been faithful followers, and out of reverence for their age which
opened a speedy prospect of their deaths. He was rewarded, it is
added, by their repentant loyalty and thankfulness, which made them
eager to please him by gifts and service of all kinds.[241]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Versions of the story of the Bishop of Durham.]
[Sidenote: The King again summons the Bishop.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop’s complaints.]
[Sidenote: Doings of Counts Alan and Odo.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop comes with a safe-conduct.]
The speed with which some of the greatest among the rebel leaders were
restored to their old rank and their old places in the King’s favour
is shown by the way in which, within a very few months, we find them
acting on the King’s side against one who at the worst was their own
accomplice, and who himself professed to have had no part or lot in
their doings. We must now take up again the puzzling story of Bishop
William of Durham. We left him, according to his own version, hindered
from coming to the King by the violence of the Sheriff of Yorkshire,
and suffering a seven weeks’ harrying of his lands which carries us
into the month of May.[242] This is exactly the time when the national
Chronicler sets the Bishop himself before us as carrying on a general
harrying of the North country.[243] It is likely enough that both
stories are true; in a civil war above all it is easy, without the
assertion of any direct falsehood, to draw two exactly opposite
pictures by simply leaving out the doings of each side in turn. Anyhow
the King had summoned the Bishop to his presence, and the Bishop had
not come. The King now sends a more special and urgent summons,
demanding the Bishop’s presence in his court, that is, in all
likelihood, at the Whitsun Gemót, or at whatever assembly took its
place for that year.[244] The message was sent by a prelate of high
rank, that Abbot Guy who had just before been forced by Lanfranc upon
the unwilling monks of Saint Augustine’s.[245] The Bishop was to
accompany the Abbot to the King’s presence. But, instead of going with
Guy, Bishop William, fearing the King’s wrath and the snares of his
enemies, sent another letter, the bearer of which went under the
Abbot’s protection.[246] The letter curiously illustrates some of the
features of the case. We learn more details of the Sheriff’s doings.
He had divided certain of the Bishop’s lands between two very great
personages, Count Alan of the Breton and of the Yorkshire Richmond,
and Count Odo, husband of the King’s aunt, and seemingly already lord
of Holderness.[247] The Sheriff had not only refused the King’s peace
to the Bishop; he had formally defied him on the part of the
King.[248] Some of the Bishop’s men he had allowed to redeem
themselves; but others he had actually sold. Were they the Bishop’s
slaves, dealt with as forfeited chattels, or did the Sheriff take on
himself to degrade freemen into slavery?[249] The Bishop protests that
he is ready to come with a safe-conduct, and to prove before all the
barons of the realm that he is wholly innocent of any crime against
the King. He adds that he would willingly come at once with the Abbot.
He had full faith in the King and his barons; but he feared his
personal enemies and the unlearned multitude.[250] Who were these
last? Are we again driven to think of the old popular character of the
Assembly, and did the Bishop fear that the solemn proceedings of the
King’s court would be disturbed by a loyal crowd, ready to deal out
summary justice against any one who should be even suspected of
treason? The King sent the safe-conduct that was asked for, and the
Bishop came to the King’s court.[251]
[Sidenote: The Bishop’s ecclesiastical claims.]
[Sidenote: He goes back to Durham.]
The two Williams, King and Bishop, now met face to face. William of
Saint-Calais pleaded his rights as a bishop as zealously, and far more
fully, than they had been pleaded by the bishop who was also an earl.
The Bishop of Durham, as Bishop of Durham, held great temporal rights;
but William of Saint-Calais was not, like his predecessor Walcher,
personally earl of any earldom. Bishop William’s assertion of the new
ecclesiastical claims reminds us of two more famous assemblies, in the
earlier of which William of Saint-Calais will appear on the other
side. In forming our estimate of the whole story, we must never forget
that the man who surprised the Red King with claims greater than those
of Anselm is the same man who a few years later became the counsellor
of the Red King against Anselm. In this first Assembly the Bishop
refuses to plead otherwise than according to the privileges of his
order. The demand is refused. He craves for the counsel of his
Metropolitan Thomas of York and of the other bishops. This also is
refused. He offers to make his personal purgation on any charge of
treason or perjury. This is refused. The King insists that he shall be
tried before the Court after the manner of a layman. This the Bishop
refuses;[252] but the King keeps his personal faith, and the Bishop is
allowed to go back safely to Durham. We hear much of the ravages done
on the Bishop’s lands, both while he was away from Durham and after he
had gone back thither.[253] Of ravages done by the Bishop we hear
nothing in this version. In this version William of Saint-Calais,
blackest of traitors in the Peterborough Chronicle, is still the
meekest of confessors.
[Sidenote: June-September, 1088.]
[Sidenote: Agreement between the Bishop]
[Sidenote: and the Counts. September 8.]
We get no further details of the Bishop of Durham’s story till the
beginning of September. But in the meanwhile the Bishop wrote another
letter to the King, again asking leave to make his purgation. The only
answer, we are told, on the King’s part was to imprison the Bishop’s
messenger and to lay waste his lands more thoroughly than ever. But,
from the beginning of September, the story is told with great detail.
By that time southern England at least was at peace, and by that time
too men who had taken a leading part in the rebellion were acting as
loyal subjects to the King. On the day of the Nativity of our Lady an
agreement was come to between the Bishop and three of the barons of
the North. Two of these were the Counts Alan and Odo, who had received
grants of the Bishop’s lands. They, it seems clear, had had no share
in the rebellion; but with them was joined a leading rebel, Roger of
Poitou, son of the Earl of Shrewsbury, whom we last heard of as one of
Odo’s accomplices at Pevensey. These three, acting in the King’s name,
pledged their faith for the Bishop’s personal safety to and from the
King’s court. The three barons seem to make themselves in some sort
arbiters between the King and the Bishop. His personal safety is
guaranteed in any case. But the place to which he is to be safely
taken is to differ according to the result of the trial. The terms
seem to imply that, if the three barons deem justice to be on the side
of the Bishop, he is to be taken back safely to Durham, while, if they
deem justice to be on the side of the King, he is to be allowed freely
to cross the sea at any haven that he may choose, from Sandwich to
Exeter.[254] In case of the Bishop’s return to Durham, if he should
find that during his absence any new fortifications have been added to
the castle, those fortifications are to be destroyed.[255] If, on the
other hand, the Bishop crosses the sea, the castle is to be
surrendered to the King. No agreement contrary to this present one was
to be extorted from the Bishop on any pretext. The terms were agreed
to by the Bishop, and were sworn to, as far as the surrender of the
castle was concerned, by seven of the Bishop’s men, seemingly the same
seven of whom we have heard before and of whom we shall hear again.
All matters were to be settled in the King’s court one way or the
other by the coming feast of Saint Michael; but, as this term was
plainly too short, the time of meeting was put off by the consent of
both sides to an early day in November.
[Sidenote: The Meeting at Salisbury. November 2, 1088.]
[Sidenote: Urse of Abetot.]
[Sidenote: Conduct of the Bishop.]
[Sidenote: Lanfranc’s view of vestments.]
[Sidenote: Case of Thomas at Northampton. 1164.]
On the appointed day Bishop William of Durham appeared in the King’s
court at Salisbury. We have not now, as we had two years before, to
deal with a gathering of all the land-owners of England in the great
plain. The castle which had been reared within the ditches that fence
in the waterless hill became the scene of a meeting of the King and
the great men of the realm which may take its place alongside of later
meetings of the same kind in the castle by the wood at Rockingham and
in the castle by the busy streets of Northampton. We have――from the
Bishop’s side only, it must be remembered――a minute and lifelike
account of a two days’ debate in the Assembly, a debate in which not a
few men with whose names we have been long familiar in our story, in
which others whose names and possessions are written in the Great
Survey, meet us face to face as living men and utter characteristic
speeches in our ears. We are met at the threshold by a well-known
form, that of the terrible Sheriff of Worcestershire, Urse of Abetot.
Notwithstanding the curse of Ealdred, he flourished and enjoyed court
favour, and we now find him the first among the courtiers to meet
Bishop William, and to bid him enter the royal presence.[256] That
presence the Bishop entered four times in the course of the day,
having had three times to withdraw while the Court came to a judgement
on points of law touching his case. At every stage the Bishop raises
some point, renews some protest, interposes some delay or other. And
during the whole earlier part of the debate, it is Lanfranc who takes
the chief part in answering him; the King says little till a late
stage of the controversy. Before Bishop William comes in to the King’s
presence, he prays again, but prays in vain, to have the counsel of
his brother bishops. None of them, not even his own Metropolitan
Thomas, would give him the kiss of peace or even a word of greeting.
When he does come in, he first raises the question whether he ought
not to be judged, and the other bishops to judge him, in full
episcopal dress. To the practical mind of Lanfranc questions about
vestments did not seem of first-rate importance. “We can judge very
well,” he said, “clothed as we are; for garments do not hinder
truth.”[257] This point, it will be remembered, again came up at
Northampton, seventy-six years later. The entrance of Thomas into the
King’s hall clad in the full garb of the Primate of all England was
one of the most striking features of that memorable day.[258]
[Sidenote: Hostile dealings of the Bishop’s own men.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop called on to “do right.”]
[Sidenote: He denies the authority of the Court.]
[Sidenote: Growth of the new doctrines.]
[Sidenote: Position of Lanfranc and Bishop William.]
A long legal discussion followed, in which Bishop William and Lanfranc
were the chief speakers. Some points were merely verbal. Much turned
on the construction of the word _bishopric_. The Bishop of Durham
asked to be restored to his bishopric. Lanfranc answered that he had
not been disseized of it.[259] In the course of this dispute one or
two facts of interest come out. It appears from the Bishop’s complaint
that some of the chief men of the patrimony of Saint Cuthberht had
made their way to the meeting at Salisbury, and that not as their
bishop’s friends. They, his own liegemen, had abjured him; they held
the lands of the bishopric in fief of the King; they had made war upon
him by the King’s orders, and were now sitting as his judges.[260] But
the main point was that the Bishop should, before matters went any
further, do right to the King, that is, acknowledge the jurisdiction
of the Court.[261] This demand the Bishop tried to evade by every
means; but it was firmly pressed both by Lanfranc and by the lay
members of the Court. These last seem to act in close concert with the
Primate, and the ecclesiastical writer brings out in a lively way the
energy of their way of speaking.[262] In answer to them the Bishop
spake words which amounted to a casting aside of all the earlier
jurisprudence of England, but which were only a natural inference from
that act of the Conqueror which had severed the jurisdictions which
ancient English custom had joined together. He told the barons of the
realm and the other laymen who were present that with them he had
nothing to do, that he altogether refused their jurisdiction; he
demanded, that, if the King and the Bishops allowed them to be
present, they should at least not speak against him.[263] The doctrine
of ecclesiastical privilege had indeed grown, since, six and thirty
years before, the people of England, gathered beneath the walls of
London, had declared a traitorous archbishop to be deprived and
outlawed, and had by their own act set another in his place. Yet the
position of William of Saint-Calais was more consistent than the
position of Lanfranc. William of Saint-Calais wholly denied the right
of laymen to judge a bishop; Lanfranc, the assertor of that right, had
been placed in his see on the very ground that the deposition of
Robert and the election of Stigand were both invalid, as being merely
acts of the secular power. Still, however logical might be the
Bishop’s argument, his claims were practically new, either in English
or in Norman ears. If they had ever been heard of before, it had been
only for a moment from the lips of Odo. And we may mark again that,
though the words of William of Saint-Calais would have won him favour
with Hildebrand, they won him no favour with Lanfranc. Lanfranc
represented the traditions of the Conqueror, and in the days of the
Conqueror, all things, divine and human, had depended on the
Conqueror’s nod.[264]
[Sidenote: The King speaks.]
[Sidenote: Roger Bigod demands that the charge be read.]
[Sidenote: The charge formally brought.]
[Sidenote: Its probable truth.]
[Sidenote: Points not dwelled on.]
At this stage the King speaks for the first time, and, in this first
speech the words of William the Red are mild enough. He had hoped, he
said, that the Bishop would have first made answer to the charges
which had been brought against him, and he wondered that he had taken
any other course. But the charge had not yet been formally made. Amid
the Bishop’s protests about the rights of his order, this somewhat
important point was pressed by one of his fellow-rebels. This was
Roger the Bigod, he who from the castle of Norwich had done such harm
in the eastern lands, but who now appears as an adviser of the king
against whom he had been fighting a few months before. Let the charge,
he said, be brought in due form, and let the Bishop be tried according
to it.[265] After more protests from the Bishop, the charge was made
by Hugh of Beaumont.[266] It contained a full statement of the
Bishop’s treason and desertion, as already described,[267] and the
time is said to have been when the King’s enemies came against him,
and when his own men, Bishop Odo, Earl Roger, and many others, strove
to take away his crown and kingdom.[268] It is demanded that, on this
charge and on any other charges that the King may afterwards bring,
the Bishop shall abide by the sentence of the King’s court. We have
this statement only in the version of Bishop William himself or of a
local partisan. Yet there is no reason to doubt that it is a fair
representation of the formal charge which was brought in the King’s
court. That charge brings out quite enough of overt acts of treason to
justify even the strong words of the Peterborough Chronicler.[269]
With the secret counsels of the rebels during Lent it does not deal;
what share Bishop William had had in them might be hard to make out by
legal proof, and the charge is quite enough for the King’s purpose
without them. But it brings out this special aggravation of the
Bishop’s guilt, that, after the rebellion had broken out, after
military operations had begun, the Bishop was still at the King’s
side, counselling action while he was himself plotting desertion. The
flight of Bishop William, as we have already told it, really reads not
unlike the flight of Cornbury and Churchill just six centuries later;
and it would be pressing the judgement of charity a long way to plead
in his behalf the doctrine that in revolutions men live fast.[270] We
may notice also that nothing is said about the Bishop’s harryings in
Northern England. They might, according to the custom of the time, be
almost taken as implied in the fact of his rebellion; or they might be
among the other charges which the King had ready to bring forward if
he thought good.
[Sidenote: The Bishop’s answer.]
[Sidenote: Wrath of the lay members.]
[Sidenote: Speech of Bishop Geoffrey on behalf of William.]
[Sidenote: Answer of Lanfranc.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop goes out.]
[Sidenote: Defiance of Hugh of Beaumont.]
The formal charge was thus laid before the Court, and it was for the
Bishop to make his answer. It was the same as before. Hugh of Beaumont
might say what he chose;[271] only according to his own ideas of
canonical rule would he answer. By this time the wrath of the lay
members of the Assembly was waxing hot; they assailed the Bishop,
some, we are told, with arguments, some with revilings.[272] At this
stage Bishop William found a friend where we should hardly have looked
for one. The brigand Bishop of Coutances, already changed from a rebel
into a loyal subject, was there among the great men of the realm.
England knew him, not as a prelate of the Church, but as one of the
greatest of her land-owners; but now, like Odo, he speaks as a bishop.
He appeals to the Archbishops at least to give a hearing to Bishop
William’s objection. They, the bishops and abbots, ought no longer to
sit there; they ought to withdraw, taking with them some lay
assessors, to discuss the point raised by the Bishop of Durham,
whether he ought not to be restored to his bishopric before he is
called on to plead.[273] Again the great ecclesiastical statesman is
inclined to scorn, almost to mock, the scruples of lesser men.
Canonical subtleties might disturb the conscience of a bishop who had
a few months before headed a band of robbers; but the lawyer of Pavia,
the teacher of Avranches, the monk of Bec, the Abbot of Saint
Stephen’s, the Patriarch of all the nations beyond the sea, had
learned, in his long experience, that, as changes of vestments did not
greatly matter, so changes of place and procedure did not greatly
matter either. As Lanfranc had told Bishop William that they could
judge perfectly well in the clothes which they then had on, so now he
tells Bishop Geoffrey that they can judge perfectly well in the place
and company in which they were now sitting. There was no need to rise;
let the Bishop of Durham and his men go out, and the rest of the
Court, clergy and laity alike, would judge what was right to be
done.[274] The Bishop warned the Court to act according to the canons,
and to let no one judge who might not canonically judge a bishop.
Lanfranc calmly, but vaguely, assured him that justice would be
done.[275] Hugh of Beaumont told him more plainly, “If I may not
to-day judge you and your order, you and your order shall never
afterwards judge me.”[276] With one more protest, one more declaration
that he would disown any judgement which was not strictly
canonical,[277] Bishop William and his followers left the hall of
meeting.
[Sidenote: Debate in the Bishop’s absence.]
[Sidenote: Constitution of the Court.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop comes back.]
[Sidenote: Debate on the word _fief_.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop’s seven men.]
[Sidenote: He goes out the second time.]
Our only narrative of these debates, the narrative of Bishop William
himself or of some one writing under his inspiration, complains of the
long delay before the Bishop was allowed to come back, and gives a
description, one which reads like satire, of the assembly which stayed
to debate the preliminary point of law. There was the King, with the
bishops and earls, the sheriffs and the lesser reeves, with the King’s
huntsmen and other officials.[278] The great officers of state,
Justiciar, Chancellor, Treasurer, had not yet risen to their full
importance; still it is odd to find them, as they would seem to be,
thrust in, after the manner of an _et cetera_, after, it may be,
Osgeat the reeve and Croc the huntsman.[279] But anyhow, in this
purely official assembly, we may surely see the _Theningmannagemót_
gradually changing into the _Curia Regis_.[280] The Court, however
constituted, debated in the Bishop’s absence on the point of the law
which he had raised. On his return, his own Metropolitan, Thomas of
York, announced to him the decision of the Assembly. Till he
acknowledged the jurisdiction of the Court, the King was not bound to
restore anything that had been taken from him. We seem to hear the
voice of Flambard, when, in announcing this decision, Thomas makes use
of the word _fief_, which had not hitherto been heard in the
discussion.[281] Bishop William catches in vain at the novelty;
Archbishop Thomas declines all verbal discussion; whether it is called
bishopric or fief, nothing is to be restored till the jurisdiction of
the court is acknowledged.[282] Thus baffled, Bishop William has only
to fall back on his old protests, his old demand for the counsel of
his brother bishops. Lanfranc meets him as a lawyer; the bishops are
his judges, and therefore cannot be his counsel.[283] The King now
steps in; the Bishop may take counsel with his own men, but he shall
have no counsel from any man of his.[284] The Bishop answers that, in
the seven men whom he has with him――clearly the same seven of whom we
have twice heard already――he will find but little help against the
power and learning of the whole realm which he sees arrayed against
him.[285] But he gets no further help; he withdraws the second time
for consultation, but it is only with the seven men of his own
following.
[Sidenote: He comes back and appeals to Rome.]
The result of their secret debate suggests that Bishop William in
truth took counsel with no one but himself. Surely no seven men of
English or Norman birth could have been found to suggest the course
which William of Saint-Calais now took. For he came back to utter
words which must have sounded strange indeed either in English or in
Norman ears. “The judgement which has here been given I reject,
because it is made against the canons and against our law; nor was I
canonically summoned; but I stand here compelled by the force of the
King’s army, and despoiled of my bishopric, beyond the bounds of my
province, in the absence of all my comprovincial bishops. I am
compelled to plead my cause in a lay assembly; and my enemies, who
refuse me their counsel and speech and the kiss of peace, laying aside
the things which I have said, judge me of things which I have not
said; and they are at once accusers and judges; and I find it
forbidden in our law to admit such a judgement as I in my folly was
willing to admit.[286] The Archbishop of Canterbury and my own Primate
ought, out of regard for God and our order, to save me of their good
will from this encroachment. Because then, through the King’s enmity,
I see you all against me, I appeal to the Apostolic See of Rome, to
the Holy Church, and to the Blessed Peter and his Vicar, that he may
take order for a just sentence in my affair; for to his disposition
the ancient authority of the Apostles and their successors and of the
canons reserves the greater ecclesiastical causes and the judgement of
bishops.”[287]
[Sidenote: Character of the appeal.]
[Sidenote: Arguments of Lanfranc.]
[Sidenote: William’s comprovincials.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop goes out the third time.]
[Sidenote: He comes back, and sentence is pronounced.]
[Sidenote: He renews his appeal.]
Such an appeal as this was indeed going to the root of the matter. It
was laying down the rule against which Englishmen had yet to strive
for more than four hundred years. William of Saint-Calais not only
declared that there were causes with which no English tribunal was
competent to deal, but he laid down that among such causes were to be
reckoned all judgements where any bishop――if not every priest――was an
accused party. Bishop William could not even claim that, as one
charged with an ecclesiastical offence, he had a right to appeal to
the highest ecclesiastical judge. Even such a claim as this was a
novelty either in Normandy or in England; but William of Saint-Calais
was not charged with any ecclesiastical offence. Except so far as the
indictment involved the charge of perjury, that debateable ground of
the two jurisdictions, the offence laid to the Bishop’s charge was a
purely temporal one, that of treason against his lord the King. So
arraigned, he refuses the judgement of the King of the English and his
Witan, and appeals from them to the Bishop of Rome. He justifies his
appeal by referring to some law other than the law of England, some
special law of his own order, by which, he alleges, he is forbidden to
submit to any such judgements as that of the national assembly of the
realm of which he is a subject. We again instinctively ask, how would
William the Great have dealt with such an appeal, if any man had been
so hardy as to make it in his hearing? But we again see how the
ecclesiastical system which William the Great had brought in was one
which needed his own mighty hand to guide.[288] He was indeed, in all
causes and over all persons, ecclesiastical and temporal, within his
dominions supreme. But the moment he himself was gone, that great
supremacy seems to have fallen in pieces. Lanfranc himself, steadily
as he maintains the royal authority throughout the dispute, seems to
shrink from boldly grappling with the Bishop’s claim. Some lesser
fallacies we are not surprised to find passed over. The daring
statement that the sole right of the Bishop of Rome to judge other
bishops was established by the Apostles may perhaps have seemed less
strange even to Lanfranc than it does to us. But Lanfranc must have
smiled, and Thomas of York must have smiled yet more, at the Bishop of
Durham’s grotesque complaint that he was deprived of the help of his
comprovincial bishops.[289] It was a vain hope indeed, if he thought
that King Malcolm would allow him the comfort of any brotherly counsel
from Glasgow or Saint Andrews. But the real point is that Lanfranc
seems to avoid giving any direct answer to Bishop William’s claim to
appeal to a court beyond the sea. Instead of stoutly denying the right
of any English subject to appeal to any foreign power from the
judgement of the highest court in England, he falls back into Bishop
William’s own subtleties about “fief” and “bishopric;” and he appeals
to the case of Odo, where it was only the Earl and not the Bishop who
was dealt with.[290] The verbal question goes on, till the Bishop
declares that he has no skill to dispute against the wisdom of
Lanfranc; he has been driven to appeal to the apostolic see, and he
wishes to have the leave of the King and the Archbishop to go to the
see to which he has appealed.[291] A third time does he, at Lanfranc’s
bidding, leave the hall while this question is debated by the King and
his council. On his return the final sentence is pronounced by the
mouth of Hugh of Beaumont. As the Bishop has refused to answer the
charges brought against him by the King, as he invites the King to a
tribunal at Rome, the Bishop’s fief is declared forfeited by the
judgement of the King’s court and the barons. It really says a good
deal for the long-suffering of the prelates and barons, and of the Red
King himself, that Bishop William again ventured to make his appeal in
more offensive terms than before. He is ready, in any place where
justice reigns and not violence, to purge himself of all charges of
crime and perjury. He will prove in the Roman Church that the
judgement which has just been pronounced is false and unjust.[292]
Hugh of Beaumont is driven to a retort; “I and my companions are ready
to confirm our judgement in this court.” The Bishop again declares
that he will enter into no pleadings in that court. Let him speak
never so well, his words are perverted by the King’s partisans. They
have no respect for the apostolic authority, and, even after he has
made his appeal, they load him with an unjust judgement. He will go to
Rome to seek the help of God and of Saint Peter.[293]
[Sidenote: Speeches of the King.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop appeals to Counts Odo and Alan.]
[Sidenote: Cries of the lay members.]
[Sidenote: Intervention of Count Alan.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop appeals yet again.]
[Sidenote: The final sentence.]
Up to this time the King has taken only a secondary part in the lively
dispute which has been going on in his presence. We have listened
chiefly to the pithy sayings of Lanfranc and to the official
utterances of Hugh of Beaumont. But now Rufus himself steps in as a
chief speaker, and that certainly in a characteristic strain. His
patience had borne a good deal, but it was now beginning to give way.
The King’s short and pointed sentences, uttered, we must remember,
with a fierce look and a stammering tongue, are a marked contrast to
the long-turned periods and legal subtleties of the Bishop. He now
steps into the dispute from a very practical side; “My will is that
you give me up your castle, as you will not abide by the sentence of
my court.”[294] More distinctions, more protests, more appeals to
Rome, only stir up the Red King to the use of his familiar oath; “By
the face of Lucca, you shall never go out of my hands till I have your
castle.”[295] The Bishop was now fairly in the mouth of the lion; yet
he again goes through the whole story of his wrongs and his innocence,
with some particulars which we have not hitherto heard. When his
possessions were seized by the King’s officers, though a hundred of
his own knights looked on, no resistance had been offered to the
King’s will.[296] He had now nothing left but his episcopal city; if
the King wished to take that, he would offer no resistance, save by
the power of God. He would only warn him, on behalf of God and Saint
Peter and his Vicar the Pope, not to take it. He would give hostages
and sureties that, while he went to Rome, his own men should keep the
castle, and that, if the King wished, they should keep it for his
service.[297] The King again spoke; “Be sure, Bishop, that you shall
never go to Durham, nor shall your men hold Durham, nor shall you
escape my hands, unless you freely give up the castle to me.”[298] The
Bishop now for once says not a word about canonical rights; he
appeals, more shortly and more prudently, to the plighted faith of the
two Counts who had promised that he should go back to Durham. But
Lanfranc argues that the Bishop has forfeited his safe-conduct, and
that, if he refuses to give up the castle, the King may rightly arrest
him.[299] At this hint the lay members of the Assembly joined in with
one voice, the foremost among them being that Randolf Peverel of whose
possessions and supposed kindred we have had elsewhere to speak.[300]
“Take him,” was the cry, “take him; for that old gaoler speaks
well.”[301] But at this stage the Bishop finds friends in the Counts
whose faith had been pledged to his safe-conduct. Count Alan formally
states the terms of the agreement, and prays the King――Odo and Roger
joining with him in the prayer――that he may not be forced to belie his
faith, as otherwise the King should have no further service from
him.[302] But in Lanfranc’s view the second of the two cases which
were contemplated in the agreement had taken place. The King was not
bound to let the Bishop go back to Durham; all that he was now bound
to do was to give him ships and a safe-conduct out of the realm.[303]
The dispute goes on in the usual style. The Bishop continues his
appeal to Rome; he again invokes what he calls specially the Christian
law, pointing, it would seem, to a volume in his own hand;[304] while
Lanfranc asserts the authority of the King’s court.[305] The King then
steps in with one of his short speeches; “You may say what you will,
but you shall not escape my hands, unless you first give up the castle
to me.”[306] The Bishop then makes a shorter protest than usual, the
drift of which seems to be that he is ready to suffer any loss rather
than be personally arrested.[307] The sentence of the Court is now
finally passed. A day is fixed by which the Bishop’s men should leave
the city of Durham and the King’s men take possession of it
instead.[308]
[Sidenote: The Bishop asks for an allowance.]
[Sidenote: Answer of Lanfranc.]
[Sidenote: The King’s offers.]
[Sidenote: The King and Ralph Paganel.]
The judgement of the Assembly had thus formally gone against the
claims of the Bishop of Durham; but his resources were not at an end.
Defeated on all points of law, he makes an appeal to the King’s
generosity. Will his lord the King, he now prays, leave him something
from his bishopric on which he may at least be able to live? Lanfranc
again answers; “Shall you go to Rome, to the King’s hurt and to the
dishonour of all of us, and shall the King leave lands to you? Stay in
his land, and he will give back to you all your bishopric, except the
city, on the one condition that you do right to him in his court by
the judgement of his barons.”[309] Bishop William, almost parodying
the words of a much earlier appeal to Rome, says that he has appealed
to the Apostolic See, and to the Apostolic See he will go.[310]
Lanfranc retorts; “If you go to Rome without the King’s leave, we will
tell him what he ought to do with your bishopric.” Bishop William
answers in a long speech, renewing his protests of innocence and his
offers of purgation, and setting forth the services which he claimed
to have done for the King at Dover, Hastings, and London. The Bishop
many times makes his prayer, and the King as often refuses. Then
Lanfranc counsels him to throw himself wholly on the King’s mercy; if
he will do so, he himself will plead for him at the King’s feet. But
the Bishop still goes on about the authority of the canons and the
honour of the Church; he will earnestly pray for the King’s mercy, but
he will accept no uncanonical judgement. The King then makes a new
proposal; “Let the Bishop give me sureties that he will do nought to
my hurt on this side the sea, and that neither my brother nor any of
my brother’s men shall keep the ships which I shall provide to my
damage or against the will of their crews.”[311] It certainly was
demanding a good deal to expect Bishop William to go surety for either
the will or the power of Duke Robert to do or to hinder anything. The
Bishop pleads that the Counts pledged their faith that he should not
be obliged to enter into any agreement except the one which had been
made at Durham. And the Sheriff of Yorkshire, Ralph Paganel, the same
who had been the spoiler of the Bishop’s goods, bears witness that his
claim was a just one.[312] By this time the wrath of the Red King was
gradually kindling; he turns on the Sheriff with some sharpness; “Hold
your peace; for no surety will I endure to lose my ships; but if the
Bishop will give this surety which I ask, I will ask for no
other.”[313] The Bishop falls back on his old plea; he will enter into
no agreement save that into which he entered with the Counts. The King
again swears by the face of Lucca that the Bishop shall not cross the
sea that year, unless he gives the required surety for the ships.[314]
The Bishop then protests that, rather than be arrested, he will give
the surety and more than the surety which is demanded; but he calls
all men to witness that he does this unwillingly and through fear of
arrest.[315] He gives the surety, and another stage in the long debate
ends.
[Sidenote: Question of the safe-conduct.]
[Sidenote: Charges against the Bishop’s men.]
[Sidenote: Interposition of Lanfranc on behalf of the Bishop.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop to leave England.]
A new point, happily the last, was raised when the Bishop, having
given the required surety, asked for ships and a safe-conduct. The
King says that he shall have them as soon as the castle of Durham is
in the King’s power; till then, he shall have no safe-conduct, but
shall stay at Wilton.[316] He again meekly protests; he will endure
the wrong against which he has no means of striving.[317] Then a man
of Bishop Geoffrey of Coutances steps in with a new count. The men who
held the Bishop of Durham’s castle had――before the Bishop came to
the King’s court; therefore, it might be inferred, with his
knowledge――taken two hundred beasts belonging to the Bishop of
Coutances which were under the King’s safe-conduct. Bishop Geoffrey
had surely seen more than two hundred beasts brought into Bristol as
the spoil of loyal men in Somerset, Gloucestershire, and Wiltshire;
but he is careful to exact the redress of his own loss from his
brother bishop and rebel. The men of the Bishop of Durham had refused
to pay the price of the beasts; they refused even when Walter of
Eyncourt――we have met him in Lincolnshire[318]――bade them do so in the
King’s name; he William, the man of Bishop Geoffrey, demands that the
price be paid to his lord.[319] The King puts it to the barons whether
he can implead the Bishop on this charge also.[320] Lanfranc, for the
first time helping his brother prelate, rules that this cannot be
done. Bishop William cannot be impleaded any further, because he now
holds nothing of the King――the surrender of the castle of Durham is
thus held to be already made――and is entitled to the King’s
safe-conduct.[321] The Assembly now breaks up for the day; the Bishop
is to choose the haven from which he will sail, and to make known his
choice on the morrow.
[Sidenote: Conditions of the Bishop’s sailing.]
[Sidenote: November 21, 1088.]
[Sidenote: November 14.]
The next day the Court again comes together. The Bishop of Durham asks
Count Alan to find him a haven and ships at Southampton. The King
steps in; “Know well, Bishop, that you shall never cross the channel
till I have your castle”――adding, with a remembrance of the doings of
another prelate at Rochester――“for the Bishop of Bayeux made me smart
with that kind of thing.”[322] If the castle of Durham was in the
King’s hands by the fixed day, the fourteenth day of November, the
Bishop should have the ships and the safe-conduct without further
delay. The King then bids Count Alan and the Sheriff Gilbert[323] to
give the Bishop at Southampton such ships as might be needful for his
voyage seven days after the day fixed for the surrender of the castle.
Meanwhile, on the appointed day, the castle of Durham was received
into the King’s hands by Ivo Taillebois and Erneis of Burun――names
with which we have long been familiar.[324] They disseized the Bishop
of his church and castle and all his land; but they gave to the
Bishop’s men a writ under the King’s seal, promising the most perfect
safety to the Bishop and his men through all England and in their
voyage.[325] And, according to the most obvious meaning of the
narrative, Heppo, the King’s _balistarius_――a man of whom, like Ivo
Taillebois, we have heard in Lincolnshire――was put into their hands as
surety for the observance of the safe-conduct.
[Sidenote: Action of Ivo Taillebois.]
[Sidenote: November 21.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop’s voyage delayed.]
[Sidenote: November 26.]
[Sidenote: Charge against the monk Geoffrey.]
[Sidenote: New summons against the Bishop.]
[Sidenote: His argument with Osmund.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop again summoned by Walkelin.]
[Sidenote: Interposition of the Counts.]
[Sidenote: He at last crosses to Normandy.]
It might have seemed that the Bishop’s troubles were now ended, so far
as they could be ended by leaving the land which he professed to look
on as a land of persecution. But a crowd of hindrances were put in the
way of his voyage. Notwithstanding the safe-conduct given to the
Bishop’s men, a number of wrongs were done to them by Ivo Taillebois,
whose conduct may be thought to bear out his character as drawn in the
legendary history of Crowland. The great grievance was that in
defiance――so men thought at Durham――of Lanfranc’s judgement that
Bishop William was not bound to plead in the matter of the beasts
taken from the Bishop of Coutances, two of his knights were forced to
plead on that charge.[326] Meanwhile the day came which had been
appointed for the Bishop’s voyage. He had been waiting at Wilton,
under the care of a certain Robert of Conteville, who had been
assigned, at his own request, to keep him from all harm.[327] The
castle had been duly given up; all seemed ready for his crossing.
Bishop William asked the Sheriff Gilbert and his guardian Robert for
ships, to cross in the company of Robert of Mowbray.[328] Under orders
from the King,[329] they kept him for five days longer, when Robert of
Conteville took him to Southampton. The wind was favourable, and the
Bishop craved for leave to set sail at once. The King’s officers
forbade him to sail that day; the next day, when the wind had become
contrary, they, seemingly in mockery, gave him leave to sail. While he
waited for a favourable wind, a new charge was brought against him,
founded on the alleged doings of one of his monks, Geoffrey by name,
of whom we shall afterwards hear as being in his special confidence.
By the sentence of forfeiture pronounced by the Court, all the
Bishop’s goods had become the property of the Crown. It was therefore
deemed an invasion of the King’s rights when, after the Bishop had
gone to the King’s court, Geoffrey took a large number of beasts from
the Bishop’s demesne. He had also taken away part of the garrison of
the castle, who had killed a man of the King’s. On this charge Bishop
William was summoned to appear in the King’s court at the Christmas
Gemót to be held in London. One of the bearers of the summons was no
less famous a man than Bishop Osmund of Salisbury, a man of a local
reputation almost saintly.[330] Bishop William again appeals to the
old agreement; he protests his innocence of any share in the acts of
Geoffrey, though he adds that he might lawfully have done what he
would with his own up to the moment when he was formally
disseized.[331] These words might seem to imply that the act of
Geoffrey, though done after the Bishop had left Durham, was done
before the sentence was finally pronounced. But he cannot go to the
King’s court; he has nothing left; he has eaten his horses; that is
seemingly their price.[332] He is still repeatedly forbidden to cross,
even alone.[333] In answer to an earnest message that he might be
allowed to go to Rome, the King sent Walkelin Bishop of Winchester
with two companions, one of them Hugh of Port, a well-known Domesday
name, to summon him to send Geoffrey for trial to Durham and to appear
himself in London at the Christmas Gemót to answer for the deeds of
his men.[334] In defiance of all prayers and protests, the King’s
officers kept the Bishop in ward night and day; in his sadness he sent
a message to the Counts who had given him the safe-conduct, praying
them by the faith of their baptism to have him released from his
imprisonment and allowed to cross the sea.[335] They answered his
appeal. At their urgent prayer, the King at last let him cross. He
sailed to Normandy, where he was honourably received by Duke Robert,
and――so the Durham writer believed――entrusted with the care of his
whole duchy.[336] Perhaps it was owing to these new worldly cares
that, though we often hear of him again, we do not hear of him as a
suppliant at the court of Rome.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Importance of the story of William of Saint-Calais.]
[Sidenote: Illustrations of jurisprudence.]
[Sidenote: Legal trickery of the Bishop.]
[Sidenote: Reasons for proceeding against him.]
[Sidenote: The first appeal to Rome made by William of Saint-Calais.]
The tale of Bishop William of Durham is long, perhaps in some of its
stages it is wearisome; but it is too important a contribution to our
story to be left out or cut short. It sets before us the earliest of
those debates in the King’s court of which we shall come across other
memorable examples before the reign of Rufus is over. We see the forms
and the spirit of the jurisprudence of England in the days immediately
following the Norman Conquest, a jurisprudence which, both in its
forms and its spirit, has become strongly technical, but which still
has not yet become the exclusive possession of a professional class.
Bishops, earls, sheriffs, are still, as of old, learned in the law,
and are fully able to carry on a legal discussion in their own
persons. And we see that a legal discussion in those days could be
carried out with a good deal of freedom of speech on all sides. As to
the matter of the debate, all that we know of Bishop William, both
afterwards and at this time from other sources, can leave hardly any
doubt that he was simply availing himself of every legal subtlety, of
every pretended ecclesiastical privilege, in order to escape a real
trial in which he knew that he would have no safe ground on the merits
of the case. And, if it be asked why the Bishop of Durham should have
been picked out for legal prosecution, while his accomplices were
forgiven and were actually sitting as his judges, the answer is to be
found in the circumstances of the case. As we read the tale in all
other accounts, as we read of it in the formal charge brought by Hugh
of Beaumont, we see that there was a special treachery in Bishop
William’s rebellion which distinguished his case from that of all
other rebels. Why he should have joined the revolt at all, how he
could expect that any change could make him greater than he already
was, is certainly a difficulty; but the fact seems certain, and, if it
be true, it quite accounts for the special enmity with which he was
now pursued. The idea of the Bishop which the story conveys to us is
that of a subtle man, full of resources, well able to counterfeit
innocence, and to employ the highest ecclesiastical claims as a means
to escape punishment for a civil crime. It was from the mouth of
William of Saint-Calais that, for the first time as far as we can see,
men who were English by birth or settlement heard the doctrine that
the King of the English had a superior on earth, that the decrees of
the Witan of England could be rightly appealed from to a foreign
power. The later career of the Bishop makes him a strange champion of
any such teaching. The largest charity will not allow us to give him
credit for the pure single-mindedness of Anselm, or even for the
conscious self-devotion of Thomas. We feel throughout that he is
simply using every verbal technicality in order to avoid any
discussion of the real facts. A trial and conviction would hardly have
brought with them any harsher punishment than the forfeiture and
banishment which he actually underwent. But it made a fairer show in
men’s eyes to undergo forfeiture and banishment in the character of a
persecuted confessor than to undergo the same amount of loss in the
character of a convicted traitor.
[Sidenote: Behaviour of Lanfranc;]
[Sidenote: of the King.]
[Sidenote: The lesser actors.]
[Sidenote: Conduct of the laity,]
[Sidenote: not favourable to the Bishop.]
The part played by Lanfranc is eminently characteristic. Practically
he maintains the royal supremacy on every point; but he makes no
formal declaration which could commit him to anti-papal theories. As
for William Rufus, one is really inclined for a long while to admire
his patience through a discussion which must have been both wearisome
and provoking, rather than to feel any wonder that, towards the end of
the day, he begins to break out into somewhat stronger language. But
in the latter part of the story, like Henry the Second but unlike
Henry the First, he stoops from his own thoroughly good position. He
shows a purpose to take every advantage however mean, and to crush the
Bishop in any way, fair or foul. So at least it seems in our story;
but one would like to hear the other side, as one is unwilling to
fancy either Bishop Walkelin or Bishop Osmund directly lending himself
to sheer palpable wrong. But, after all, not the least attractive part
of the story is the glimpse which it gives us of the lesser actors,
some of them men of whom we know from other sources the mere names and
nothing more. We feel brought nearer to the real life of the eleventh
century every time that we are admitted to see a Domesday name
becoming something more than a name, to see Ralph Paganel, Hugh of
Port, and Heppo the _Balistarius_ playing their parts in an actual
story. The short sharp speeches put into the mouths of some of the
smaller actors, as well as those which are put into the mouth of the
King, both add to the liveliness of the story and increase our faith
in its trustworthiness. As in some other pictures of the kind, the
laity, both the great men and the general body, stand out on the whole
in favourable colours. It is perfectly plain, from Bishop William’s
own words,[337] that he had not, like Anselm and Thomas, the mass of
the people on his side. It is equally plain that the majority of the
assembly, though they certainly gave him a fair hearing, were neither
inclined to his cause nor convinced by his arguments. And the conduct
of the Counts Alan and Odo and their companion Roger of Poitou is
throughout that of strictly honourable men, anxious to carry out to
the letter every point to which they have pledged their faith. The Red
King, having merely pledged his faith as a king, and not in that more
fantastic character in which he always held his plighted word as
sacred, is less scrupulous on this head.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: No recorded movement in Scotland.]
[Sidenote: Movements in Wales.]
[Sidenote: State of Wales.]
[Sidenote: Rhys restored by a fleet from Ireland.]
[Sidenote: Gruffydd’s Irish allies.]
[Sidenote: He attacks Rhuddlan.]
The affair of Bishop William brings us almost to the last days of the
year of the rebellion. But, much earlier in the year, events of some
importance had been happening in other parts of the island. We are
almost tempted to take for granted that so great a stir in northern
England as that which accompanied the banishment of the Bishop of
Durham must have been accompanied or followed by some action on the
part of King Malcolm of Scotland. None such however is spoken of. But
the stirs on the Western border had been taken advantage of by the
enemies of England on that side. We have seen that British allies
played a part on the side of the rebels in the attack on Worcester.
Further north, independent Britons deemed that the time was come for a
renewal of the old border strife. When Earl Hugh of Chester and the
Marquess Robert of Rhuddlan took opposite sides in a civil war, it was
indeed an inviting moment for any of the neighbouring Welsh princes.
The time seems to have been one of even more confusion than usual
among the Britons. The year after the death of the Conqueror is marked
in their annals as a special time of civil warfare, in which allies
were brought by sea from Scotland and Ireland. Rhys the son of Tewdwr,
of whom we have already heard,[338] was driven from his kingdom by the
sons of Bleddyn, and won it again by the help of a fleet from
Ireland.[339] Men were struck by the vast rewards in money and
captives with which he repaid his naval allies, who are spoken of as
if some of them were still heathens.[340] These movements are not
recorded by any English or Norman writer, nor do the Welsh annals
record the event with which Norman and English feeling was more deeply
concerned. But there was clearly a connexion between the two. Gruffydd
the son of Cynan appears in the British annals as an ally of the
restored Rhys,[341] and we now find a King Gruffydd, not only carrying
slaughter by land into the English territory, but appearing in the
more unusual character of the head of a seafaring expedition. We may
feel pretty sure that it was the presence of the allies from
Ireland――both native Irish, it would seem, and Scandinavian
settlers――which combined with the disturbed state of England to lead
Gruffydd to a frightful inroad on the lands of the most cruel enemy of
the Britons, the Marquess Robert. The Welsh King and his allies
marched as far as the new stronghold of Rhuddlan; they burned much and
slew many men, and carried off many prisoners, doubtless for the Irish
slave-market.[342] It was clearly through this doubtless far more
profitable raid on the English territory that Rhys and Gruffydd found
the means of rewarding their Irish and Scandinavian allies.
[Sidenote: Robert of Rhuddlan.]
[Sidenote: His probable change of party.]
[Sidenote: He returns to North Wales.]
[Sidenote: The peninsula of Dwyganwy.]
[Sidenote: The castle of Dwyganwy.]
[Sidenote: Robert at Dwyganwy.]
[Sidenote: Approach of Gruffydd. July 3, 1088.]
[Sidenote: Eagerness of Robert.]
[Sidenote: Death of Robert.]
[Sidenote: His burial at Chester.]
This inroad took place while the civil war in England was going
on,[343] a war in which it must be remembered that other British
warriors had borne their part.[344] While the lands of Rhuddlan were
wasted, the Marquess Robert was busy far away at the siege of
Rochester. This would make us think that, like Earl Roger, he changed
sides early,[345] and that he was now in the royal camp, helping to
besiege Odo and his accomplices. After the surrender of Rochester, the
news of the grievous blow which had been dealt to himself and his
lands brought Robert back to North Wales, wrathful and full of
threats.[346] The enemy must by this time have withdrawn from the
neighbourhood of Rhuddlan; for we now hear of the Marquess in the
north-western corner of the land which he had brought under his rule.
He was now in the peninsula which ends to the north in that vast
headland which, like the other headland which ends the peninsula of
Gower to the west, bears the name of the Orm’s Head.[347] The mountain
itself, thick set with remains which were most likely ancient when
Suetonius passed by to Mona, forms a strong contrast to the flat
ground at its foot which stretches southward towards the tidal mouth
of the Conwy. But that flat ground is broken by several isolated
hills, once doubtless, like the Head itself, islands. Of these the two
most conspicuous, two peaks of no great height but of marked steepness
and ruggedness, rise close together, one almost immediately above the
Conwy shore, the other landwards behind it. They are in fact two peaks
of a single hill, with a dip between the two, as on the Capitoline
hill of Rome. Here was the old British stronghold of Dwyganwy, famous
in early times as the royal seat of Maelgwyn, him who is apostrophized
in the lament of Gildas by the name of the dragon――the _worm_――of the
island.[348] That stronghold had now passed into the hands of the
Marquess Robert, and had been by him strengthened with all the newly
imported skill of Normandy. The castle of Dwyganwy plays a part in
every Welsh war during the next two centuries, and we can hardly fancy
that much of Robert’s work survives in the remains of buildings which
are to be traced on both peaks and in the dip between them. But it is
likely that at all times the habitable part of the castle lay between
the two peaks, while the peaks themselves formed merely military
defences. Here then Robert was keeping his head-quarters in the
opening days of July. At noon on one of the summer days the Marquess
was sleeping――between the peaks, we may fancy, whether in any building
or in the open air. He was roused from his slumber by stirring
tidings. King Gruffydd, at the head of three ships, had entered the
mouth of the Conwy; he had brought his ships to anchor; his pirate
crews had landed and were laying waste the country. The tide ebbed;
the ships stood on the dry land; the followers of Gruffydd spread
themselves far and wide over the flat country, and carried prisoners
and cattle to their ships.[349] The Marquess rose; he climbed the
height immediately above him, a height which looks on the flat land,
the open sea, the estuary now crowned on the other side by Conwy with
its diadem of towers, over the inland hills, and on the Orm’s Head
itself rising in the full view to the northward. He saw beneath him a
sight which might have stirred a more sluggish soul. As King Henry had
looked down on the slaughter of his troops at Varaville,[350] so
Robert, from his fortified post of Dwyganwy, saw his men carried off
in bonds and thrown into the ships along with the sheep.[351] He sent
forth orders for a general gathering, and made ready for an attack on
the plunderers at the head of such men as were with him at the moment.
They were few; they were unarmed; but he called on them to make their
way down the steep hillside and to fall on the plunderers on the shore
before the returning tide enabled them to carry off their booty.[352]
The appeal met with no hearty answer; the followers of the valiant
Marquess pleaded their small numbers and the hard task of making their
way down the steep and rocky height.[353] But Robert was not to be
kept back; he still saw what was doing through the whole of the
peninsular lowlands. He could not bear to let the favourable moment
pass by. Without his cuirass, attended only by a single knight, Osbern
of Orgères, he went down to attack the enemy on the shores of the
estuary.[354] When the Britons saw him alone, with only a single
companion and no defence but his shield, they gathered round him to
overwhelm him with darts and arrows, none daring to attack him with
the sword.[355] He still stood, wounded, with his shield bristling
with missiles, but still defying his enemies. At last his wounds bore
him down. The weight of the encumbered shield was too much for him; he
sank on his knees[356], and commended his soul to God and His Mother.
Then the enemy rushed on him with one accord; they smote off his head
in sight of his followers, and fixed it as a trophy on the mast of one
of the ships.[357] Men saw all this from the hilltop with grief and
rage; but they could give no help. A crowd came together on the shore;
but it was too late; the lord of Rhuddlan was already slain. By this
time the invaders were able to put to sea, and the followers of Robert
were also able to get their ships together and follow them. They
followed in wrath and sorrow, as they saw the head of their chief on
the mast.[358] Gruffydd must have felt himself the weaker. He ordered
the head to be taken down and cast into the sea. On this the pursuers
gave up the chase; they took up the body of the slain Marquess, and,
amidst much grief of Normans and English,[359] buried him in Saint
Werburh’s minster at Chester.[360]
[Sidenote: Connexion of Robert with Saint Evroul.]
[Sidenote: His translation to Saint Evroul.]
[Sidenote: Orderic writes his epitaph.]
[Sidenote: Its character.]
We are well pleased to have preserved to us this living piece of
personal anecdote, which reminds us for a moment of the deaths of
Harold and of Hereward. Its preservation we doubtless owe to the
connexion of Robert of Rhuddlan with the house of Saint Evroul.
Otherwise we might have known no more of the conqueror of North Wales
than we can learn from the entries in Domesday which record his
possessions.[361] But Robert, nephew of Hugh of Grantmesnil, had
enriched his uncle’s foundation with estates in England, and in the
city of Chester itself.[362] He was therefore not allowed to sleep for
ever in the foreign soil of Chester. He had a brother Arnold, a monk
of Saint Evroul, zealous in all things for his house, who had begged
endless gifts for it from his kinsfolk in England, Sicily, and
elsewhere. Some years after Robert’s death, Arnold came to England,
and, by the leave of Bishop Robert of Chester or Coventry――Bishop of
the Mercians in the phrase of the monk who was born in his
diocese――translated the body of Robert to the minster of Saint Evroul.
There a skilful painter, Reginald surnamed Bartholomew――most likely a
monk who had taken the apostolic name on entering religion――was
employed to adorn the tomb of Robert and the arch which sheltered it
with all the devices of his art.[363] And the English monk Vital――we
know him better by his English and worldly name――was set to compose
the epitaph of one who had in some sort, like himself, passed from
Mercia to Saint Evroul.[364] In his history Orderic deemed it his duty
to brand Robert’s dealings with the Welsh as breaches of the natural
law which binds man to man.[365] And it may be that something of the
same feeling peeps out in the words of the epitaph itself, which prays
with unusual fervour for the forgiveness of Robert’s sins.[366] Yet in
the verses which record his acts, his campaigns against the Briton
appear as worthy exploits alongside of his zeal for holy things and
his special love for the house of Ouche. It is not easy to track out
all these exploits, even in the narrative of Orderic himself, much
less in the annals of Robert’s British enemies. But all the mightiest
names of the Cymry are set forth in order, as having felt the might of
the daring Marquess. He had built Rhuddlan and had guarded it against
the fierce people of the land. He had ofttimes crossed beyond Conwy
and Snowdon in arms. He had put King Bleddyn to flight and had won
great spoil from him. He had carried off King Howel as a prisoner in
bonds. He had taken King Gruffydd and had overthrown Trahaern. That
Howel, his former captive, should rejoice at his fall is in no way
wonderful; but the epitaph speaks further of the treachery of a
certain Owen, of which there is no mention in the prose narrative.[367]
In any case Robert of Rhuddlan stands out as one of the mightiest
enemies of the Northern Cymry, and the tale of his end is one of the
most picturesque in this reign of picturesque incidents.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: End of the Norman Conquest.]
[Sidenote: The Conquest confirmed and undone.]
[Sidenote: How far undone.]
[Sidenote: Tendencies to union.]
The rebellion was now over, and the new King was firm upon his throne.
And with the rebellion, the last scene, as we have already said, of
the Norman Conquest was over also. Englishmen and Normans had, for the
last time under those names, met in open fight on English soil.
Whether of the two had won the victory? Such a question might admit of
different answers when the Norman King vanquished the Norman nobility
at the head of the English people. In one sense the Conquest was
confirmed; in another sense it was undone. Men must have felt that the
Conquest was undone, that the _wergeld_ of those who fell
two-and-twenty years back was indeed paid, when the second Norman host
that strove to land on the beach of Pevensey, instead of marching on
to Hastings, to Senlac, to London, and to York, was beaten back from
the English coast by the arms of Englishmen. They must have felt that
it was undone, when the castles on which Englishmen looked as the
darkest badges of bondage were stormed by an English host, gathered
together at the same bidding which had gathered men together to fight
at Sherstone and at Stamfordbridge. He must have been _Nithing_ indeed
who did not feel that the wrongs of many days were paid for, when the
arch-oppressor, the most loathed of all his race, came forth with
downcast looks to meet the jeers and curses of the nation on which he
had trampled. Days like the day of Tunbridge, the day of Pevensey, and
the day of Rochester, are among the days which make the heart of a
nation swell higher for their memory. They were days on which the
Englishman overcame the Norman, days which ruled that he who would
reign over England must reign with the good will of the English
people. The fusion of Normans and English was as yet far from being
brought to perfection; indeed nothing could show more clearly than
those days that the gap between the two nations still yawned in all
its fulness. But nothing did more than the work of those days at once
to fill up the gap and to rule in what way it should be filled up.
Those days showed that the land was still an English land, that the
choice of its ruler rested in the last resort with the true folk of
the land. Those days ruled that Normans and English should become one
people; but they further ruled, if there could be any doubt about the
matter, that they were to become one people by the Normans becoming
Englishmen, not by the English becoming Normans. It is significant
that, in recording the next general rebellion, the Chronicler no
longer marks the traitors as “the richest Frenchmen that were on this
land;” they are simply “the head men here on land who took rede
together against the King.”[368]
[Sidenote: How far confirmed.]
[Sidenote: The Norman dynasty accepted.]
[Sidenote: Acceptance of the Norman nobility in an English character.]
But, if in this way the Conquest was undone, if it was ruled that
England was still to be England, in another way the Conquest was
confirmed. The English people showed that the English crown was still
theirs to bestow; but at the same time they showed that they had no
longer a thought of bestowing it out of the house of their Conqueror.
When the English people came together at the bidding of the
Conqueror’s son, when they willingly plighted their faith to him and
called on him, as King of the English, to trust himself to English
loyalty, they formally accepted the Conquest, so far as it took the
form of a change of dynasty. Men pressed to fight for King William
against the pretender Robert; not a voice was raised for Eadgar or
Wulf or Olaf of Denmark. The stock of the Bastard of Falaise was
received as the _cynecyn_ of England, instead of the stock of Cerdic
and Woden; for there must have been few indeed who remembered that
William the Red, unlike his father, unlike Harold, unlike Cnut, did
come of the stock of Cerdic and Woden by the spindle-side.[369] And,
in admitting the change of dynasty, all was admitted which the change
of dynasty immediately implied. Men who accepted the son could not ask
for the wiping out of the acts of the father. They could not ask for a
new confiscation and a new Domesday the other way. In accepting the
son of the Conqueror, they also accepted the settlement of the
Conqueror. His earls, his bishops, his knights, his grantees of land
from Wight to Cheviot, were accepted as lawful owners of English lands
and offices. But the very acceptance implied that they could hold
English lands and offices only in the character of Englishmen, and
that that character they must now put on.
[Sidenote: Rufus’ breach of his promises.]
[Sidenote: Englishmen not oppressed as such;]
[Sidenote: but the general oppression touches them most.]
[Sidenote: Rufus and the English.]
[Sidenote: The mercenaries.]
[Sidenote: Their favour helps the fusion of races.]
In this way the reign of William Rufus marks a stage in the
developement or recovery of English nationality and freedom. And yet
at the time the days of Rufus must have seemed the darkest of all
days. No reign ever began with brighter promises than the real reign
of William the Red; for we can hardly count his reign as really
beginning till the rebellion was put down. No reign ever became
blacker. No king was ever more distinctly placed on his throne by the
good will of his people. No other king was ever hated as William Rufus
lived to be hated. No other king more utterly and shamefully broke the
promises of good government by which he had gained his crown. And yet
we may doubt whether William Rufus can be fairly set down as an
oppressor of Englishmen, in the sense which those words would bear in
the mouths of a certain school of writers. His reign is rather a reign
of general wrong-doing, a reign of oppression which regarded no
distinctions of race, rank, or order, a time when the mercenary
soldier, of whatever race, did what he thought good, and when all
other men had to put up with what he thought good. In such a state of
things the burthen of oppression would undoubtedly fall by far the
most heavily upon the native English; they would be the class most
open to suffering and least able to obtain redress. The broken
promises of the King had been specially made to them, and they would
feel specially aggrieved and disheartened at his breach of them. Still
the good government which Rufus promised, but which he did not give,
was a good government which would have profited all the King’s men,
French and English, and the lack of it pressed, in its measure, on all
the King’s men, French and English. There is at least nothing to show
that, during the reign of Rufus, Englishmen, as Englishmen, were
formally and purposely picked out as victims. We must further remember
that no legal barrier parted the two races, and that the legal
innovations of the reign of Rufus, as mainly affecting the King’s
military tenants, bore most hardly on a class which was more largely
Norman than English. On the other hand, it is certain that native
Englishmen did sometimes, if rarely, rise to high places, both
ecclesiastical and temporal, in the days of Rufus. Of the many stories
current about this king, not above one or two throw any light on his
relations to the native English class of his subjects. The one saying
of his that bears on the subject savours of good-humoured banter
rather than of dislike or even contempt.[370] On the whole, dark as is
the picture given us of the reign of Rufus, we cannot look on it as
having at all turned back or checked the course of national advance.
When mercenary soldiers have the upper hand, they are sure to be
chosen rather from strangers of any race than from natives of the land
of any race. There is indeed no reason to think that either a native
Englishman or a man of Norman descent born in England would, if he
were strong, brave, and faithful, be shut out from the Red King’s
military family. The eye of Rufus must have been keen enough to mark
many an act of good service done on the shore of Pevensey or beneath
the stronghold of Rochester. But all experience shows that the
tendency of such military families is to recruit themselves anywhere
rather than among the sons of the soil. And nothing draws the sons of
the soil more closely together than the presence of strangers on the
soil. In their presence they learn to forget any mutual grievances
against one another. In after times Normans and English drew together
against Brabançons and Poitevins. We may feel sure that they did so
from the beginning, and that the reign of Rufus really had its share
in making ready the way for the fusion of the two races, by making
both races feel themselves fellow-sufferers in a time of common
wrong-doing.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Sale of ecclesiastical offices.]
[Sidenote: Prolonging of vacancies.]
[Sidenote: Case of Thurstan of Glastonbury.]
[Sidenote: Geoffrey Bishop of Chichester;]
[Sidenote: dies September 25, 1088.]
[Sidenote: Death of Scotland of Saint Augustine’s and Ælfsige of
Bath.]
[Sidenote: Death of Bishop Gisa. 1088.]
[Sidenote: The bishopric of Somerset granted to John of Tours.]
[Sidenote: He removes the see to Bath.]
[Sidenote: Grant of the temporal lordship.]
The rebellion and its suppression, the affairs of the Bishop of
Durham, and the striking episode by the Orm’s Head, fill up the first
stirring year of the Red King. But the year of the rebellion is also
marked by one or two ecclesiastical events, which throw some light on
the state of things in the early days of Rufus, while he still had
Lanfranc to his guide. The great ecclesiastical crimes of the Red King
in his after days were the bestowal of bishoprics and abbeys for
money, and the practice of keeping them vacant for his own profit. Of
these two abuses, the former seems to have been the earlier in date.
The keeping prelacies vacant was one of the devices of Randolf
Flambard, and it could hardly have been brought into play during the
very first year of Rufus. The influence of Lanfranc too would be
powerful to hinder so public an act as the keeping vacant of a
bishopric or abbey; it would be less powerful to hinder a private
transaction on the King’s part which might be done without the
Primate’s knowledge. Add to this, that, while the filling a church or
keeping it vacant was a matter of fact about which there could be no
doubt, the question whether the King had or had not received a bribe
was a matter of surmise and suspicion, even when the surmise and
suspicion happened to be just. It is then not wonderful that we find
Rufus charged with corrupt dealings of this last kind at a very early
stage of his reign. We have seen that Thurstan, the fierce Abbot of
Glastonbury, was, by one of the first acts of Rufus, restored to the
office which he had so unworthily filled, and from which the Conqueror
had so worthily put him aside. And we have seen that it was at least
the general belief that his restoration was brought about by a lavish
gift to the King’s hoard.[371] But three prelacies, two bishoprics and
a great abbey, which either were vacant at the moment of the
Conqueror’s death or which fell vacant very soon after, were filled
without any unreasonable delay. Stigand, Bishop of Chichester, died
about the time of the Conqeror’s death, whether before or after, and
his see was filled by his successor before the end of the year.[372]
Geoffrey’s own tenure was short; he died in the year of the rebellion,
and, as his see did then remain vacant three years, we may set that
down as the beginning of the evil practice.[373] About the same time
died Scotland Abbot of Saint Augustine’s, and the English Ælfsige, who
still kept the abbey of Bath. Not long after died Ælfsige’s diocesan,
the Lotharingian Gisa, who had striven so hard to bring in the
Lotharingian discipline among his canons of Wells.[374] The bishopric
of the Sumorsætan was thus among the first sees which fell to the
disposal of William the Red, and his disposal of it led to one of the
most marked changes in its history. The bishopric was given to John,
called _de Villula_, a physician of Tours, one of the men of eminence
whom the discerning patronage of William the Great had brought from
lands alike beyond his island realm and beyond his continental duchy.
John was a trusty counsellor of the Red King, employed by him in many
affairs, and withal a zealous encourager of learning.[375] But he had
little regard to the traditions and feelings of Englishmen, least of
all to those of the canons of Wells. Like Hermann, Remigius, and other
bishops of his time, he carried out the policy of transferring
episcopal sees to the chief towns of their dioceses. But the way in
which he carried out his scheme, if not exactly like the violent
inroad of Robert of Limesey on the church of Coventry,[376] was at
least like the first designs of Hermann on the church of Malmesbury,
which had been thwarted by the interposition of Earl Harold.[377] The
change was made in a perfectly orderly manner, but by the secular
power only. The abbey of Bath was now vacant by the death of its abbot
Ælfsige. Bishop John procured that the vacant post should be granted
to himself and his successors for the increase of the bishopric of
Somerset. This was done by a royal grant made at Winchester soon after
the suppression of the rebellion, and confirmed somewhat later in a
meeting of the Witan at Dover.[378] John then transferred his
_bishopsettle_ from its older seat at Wells to the church which had
now become his. He next procured a grant of the temporal lordship of
the “old borough,” which was perhaps of less value after its late
burning by Robert of Mowbray.[379] Thus, in the language of the time,
Andrew had to yield to Simon, the younger brother to the elder.[380]
That is, the church of Saint Peter at Bath, with its Benedictine
monks, displaced the church of Saint Andrew at Wells, with its secular
canons freshly instructed in the rule of Chrodegang, as the head
church of the bishopric of Somerset. The line of the independent
abbots of Bath came to an end; their office was merged in the
bishopric, by the new style of Bishop of Bath. Thus the old Roman city
in a corner of the land of the Sumorsætan, which has never claimed the
temporal headship of that land, became for a while the seat of its
chief pastor.
[Sidenote: The change made wholly by the civil authority.]
[Sidenote: Power of bishops.]
[Sidenote: Dislike to the change on the part of the canons of Wells]
[Sidenote: and the monks of Bath.]
[Sidenote: Buildings of John of Tours. 1088-1122.]
[Sidenote: The church of Bath called abbey.]
That so great an ecclesiastical change should be wrought by the
authority of the King and his Witan――perhaps in the first instance by
the King’s authority only――shows clearly how strong an ecclesiastical
supremacy the new king had inherited from his father and his father’s
English predecessors. By the authority of the Great Council of the
realm, but without any licence from Pope or synod, an ancient
ecclesiastical office was abolished, the constitution of one church
was altered, and another was degraded from its rank as an episcopal
see. The change was made, so says the Red King’s charter, for the good
of the Red King’s soul, and for the profit of his kingdom and people.
It is more certain that it was eminently distasteful to both the
ecclesiastical bodies which were immediately concerned. The treatment
which they met with illustrates the absolute power which the bishops
of the eleventh century exercised over their monks and canons, but
which so largely passed away from them in the course of the twelfth.
To the canons of Wells Bishop John was as stern a master or conqueror
as Bishop Robert was to the monks of Coventry. They were deprived of
their revenues, deprived of the common buildings which had been built
for them by Gisa, and left to live how they might in the little town
which had sprung up at the bishop’s gate.[381] To the English monks of
Offa’s house at Bath the new bishop was hardly gentler; he deemed them
dolts and barbarians, and cut short their revenues and allowances. It
was not till he was surrounded by a more enlightened company of monks
of his own choosing that he began to restore something for the relief
of their poor estate.[382] But in his architectural works he was
magnificent. His long reign of thirty-four years allowed him, not only
to begin, but seemingly to finish, the great church of Saint Peter of
Bath, of which a few traces only remain, and the nave only of which is
represented by the present building.[383] And though, since the days
of Ælfsige, there has never been an Abbot of Bath distinct from the
Bishop, yet _abbey_, and not _minster_ or _cathedral_, is the name by
which the church of Bath is always known to this day.[384]
[Sidenote: Disturbances on the appointment of Guy at Saint
Augustine’s.]
[Sidenote: Flight of Guy.]
[Sidenote: Punishment of the rebellious monks.]
[Sidenote: Punishment of the citizens.]
The disturbances at Saint Augustine’s which followed the death of
Abbot Scotland, and the chief features of which have been described
elsewhere, must have taken place earlier in the year. For the
appointment or intrusion of Guy took place while Odo was still acting
as Earl of Kent.[385] But the great outbreak, in which the citizens of
Canterbury took part with the monks against the Abbot, did not happen
till after the death of Lanfranc. Then monks and citizens alike made
an armed attack on Guy, and hard fighting, accompanied by many wounds
and some deaths, was waged between them and the Abbot’s military
following.[386] The Abbot himself escaped only by fleeing to the rival
house of Christ Church. Then came two Bishops, Walkelin of Winchester
and Gundulf of Rochester, accompanied by some lay nobles, with the
King’s orders to punish the offenders. The monks were scourged; but,
by the intercession of the Prior and monks of Christ Church, the
discipline was inflicted privately with no lay eyes to behold.[387]
They were then scattered through different monasteries, and
twenty-four monks of Christ Church, with their sub-prior Anthony as
Prior, were sent to colonize the empty cloister of Saint
Augustine’s.[388] The doom of the citizens was harder; those who were
found guilty of a share in the attack on the Abbot lost their
eyes.[389] The justice of the Red King, stern as it was, thus drew the
distinction for which Thomas of London strove in after days. The lives
and limbs of monastic offenders were sacred.
§ 3. _The Character of William Rufus._
[Sidenote: Death of Lanfranc. May 24, 1089.]
[Sidenote: Its effects.]
[Sidenote: Position of Lanfranc in England and Normandy.]
[Sidenote: His burial at Christ Church.]
The one great event recorded in the year after the rebellion was the
death of Archbishop Lanfranc, an event at once important in itself,
and still more important in the effect which it had on the character
of William Rufus, and in its consequent effect on the general march of
events. The removal of a man who had played so great a part in all
affairs since the earliest days of the Conquest, who had been for so
many years, both before and after the Conquest, the right hand man of
the Conqueror, was in itself no small change. For good or for evil,
the Lombard Primate had left his mark for ever on the Church and realm
of England. One of the abetters of the Conquest, the chief instrument
of the Conqueror, he had found the way to the good will of the
conquered people, with whom and with whose land either his feelings or
his policy led him freely to identify himself.[390] It must never be
forgotten that, if Lanfranc was a stranger in England, he was no less
a stranger in Normandy. As such, he was doubtless better able to act
as a kind of mediator between the Norman King and the English people;
he could do somewhat, if not to lighten the yoke, at least to make it
less galling. In the last events of his life we have seen him act as
one of the leaders in a cause which was at once that of the English
people and of the Norman King. We have seen too some specimens of his
worldly wisdom, of his skill in fence and debate. An ecclesiastical
statesman rather than either a saint or strictly a churchman, it seems
rather a narrow view of him when the national Chronicler sends him out
of the world with the hope that he was gone to the heavenly kingdom,
but with the special character of the venerable father and patron of
monks.[391] His primacy of nearly nineteen years ended in the May of
the year following the rebellion.[392] He was buried in the
metropolitan church of his own rebuilding, and, when his shorter choir
gave way to the grander conceptions of the days of his successor, the
sweet savour that came from his tomb made all men sure that the pious
hope of the Chronicler had been fulfilled.[393]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Change for the worse in the King’s character.]
[Sidenote: Lanfranc’s rebukes of William.]
Lanfranc was borne to his grave amid general sorrow.[394] But the
sorrow might have been yet deeper, if men had known the effect which
his death would have on the character of the King and his reign. Up to
this time the worst features of the character of William Rufus had not
shown themselves in their fulness. As long as his father lived, as
long as Lanfranc lived, he had in some measure kept them in check. We
need not suppose any sudden or violent change. It is the manifest
exaggeration of a writer who had his own reasons for drawing as
favourable a picture as he could of the Red King, when we are told
that, as long as Lanfranc lived, he showed himself, under that
wholesome influence, the perfect model of a ruler.[395] There can be
no doubt that, while Lanfranc yet lived, William Rufus began to cast
aside his fetters, and to look on his monitor with some degree of ill
will. The Primate had already had to rebuke him for breach of the
solemn promises of his coronation, and it was then that he received
the characteristic and memorable answer that no man could keep all his
promises. But there is no reason to doubt that the death of Lanfranc
set Rufus free from the last traces of moral restraint.[396] His
dutiful submission to his father had been the best feature in his
character; and it is clear that some measure of the same feeling
extended itself to the guardian to whose care his father, both in life
and in death, had entrusted him. But now he was no longer under tutors
and governors; there was no longer any man to whom he could in any
sense look up. He was left to his own devices, or to the counsels of
men whose counsels were not likely to improve him. It was not a
wholesome exchange when the authority of Lanfranc and William the
Great was exchanged for the cunning service of Randolf Flambard and
the military companionship of Robert of Bellême.
[Sidenote: Picture of William Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Birth of William Rufus, c. 1060.]
[Sidenote: His outward appearance.]
[Sidenote: His surname of _Rufus_.]
[Sidenote: Rufus in youth.]
[Sidenote: His filial duty.]
[Sidenote: His natural gifts.]
[Sidenote: His conduct during the rebellion.]
[Sidenote: Case of the Bishop of Durham.]
As soon then as Lanfranc was dead, William Rufus burst all bounds, and
the man stood forth as he was, or as his unhappy circumstances had
made him. We may now look at him, physically and morally, as he is
drawn in very elaborate pictures by contemporary hands. William, the
third son of the Conqueror, was born before his father came into
England; but I do not know that there is any evidence to fix the exact
year of his birth. He is spoken of as young[397] at the time of his
accession, and from the date of the marriage of the Conqueror and
Matilda, it would seem likely that their third son would then be about
twenty-seven years of age. He would therefore be hardly thirty at the
time of the death of Lanfranc. The description of his personal
appearance is not specially inviting. In his bodily form he seems,
like his brother Robert,[398] a kind of caricature of his father, as
Rufus, though certainly not Robert, was also in some of his moral and
mental qualities. He was a man of no great stature, of a thick square
frame, with a projecting stomach. His bodily strength was great; his
eye was restless; his speech was stammering, especially when he was
stirred to anger. He lacked the power of speech which had belonged to
his father and had even descended to his elder brother; his pent-up
wrath or merriment, or whatever the momentary passion might be, broke
out in short sharp sentences, often showing some readiness of wit, but
no continued flow of speech. He had the yellow hair of his race, and
the ruddiness of his countenance gave him the surname which has stuck
to him so closely. The second William is yet more emphatically the Red
King than his father is either the Bastard or the Conqueror. Unlike
most other names of the kind, his surname is not only used by
contemporary writers, but it is used by them almost as a proper
name.[399] Up to the time of his accession, he had played no part in
public affairs; in truth he had no opportunity of playing any. The
policy of the Conqueror had kept his sons dependent on himself,
without governments or estates.[400] We have a picture of Rufus in his
youthful days, as the young soldier foremost in every strife, who
deemed himself disgraced, if any other took to his arms before
himself, if he was not the first to challenge an enemy or to overthrow
any enemy that challenged his side.[401] Above all things, he had
shown himself a dutiful son, cleaving steadfastly to his father, both
in peace and war. His filial zeal had been increased after the
rebellion of his brother, when the hope of the succession had begun to
be opened to himself.[402] By his father’s side, in defence of his
father, he had himself received a wound at Gerberoi.[403] Such was his
character beyond the sea; but the one fact known of him in England
before his father’s death is that he had, like most men of his time
who had the chance, possessed himself in some illegal way of a small
amount of ecclesiastical land.[404] It is quite possible that both his
father and Lanfranc may have been deceived as to his real character.
In the stormy times which followed his accession, he had shown the
qualities of an able captain and something more. He had shown great
readiness of spirit, great power of adapting himself to circumstances,
great skill in keeping friends and in winning over enemies. No man
could doubt that the new King of the English had in him the power, if
he chose to use it, of becoming a great and a good ruler. And
assuredly he could not be charged with anything like either cruelty or
breach of faith at any stage of the warfare by which his crown was
made fast to him. If he anywhere showed the cloven foot, it was in the
matter of the Bishop of Durham. Even there we can have no doubt that
he spared a traitor; but he may have been hasty in the earliest stage
of the quarrel; he certainly, in its latter stages, showed signs of
that small personal spite, that disposition to take mean personal
advantages of an enemy, which was so common in the kings of those
days. Still, whatever Lanfranc may have found to rebuke, whatever may
have been the beginnings of evil while the Primate yet lived, no
public act of the new king is as yet recorded which would lead us to
pass any severe sentence upon him, if he is judged according to the
measure of his own times.
[Sidenote: General charges against Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Little personal cruelty;]
[Sidenote: comparison with his father and brother.]
[Sidenote: His profligacy and irreligion.]
[Sidenote: Redeeming features in his character.]
It is indeed remarkable that the pictures of evil-doing which mark the
reign of Rufus from the Chronicle onwards are, except when they take
the form of personal anecdote, mainly of a general kind. Those
pictures, those anecdotes, leave no room to doubt that the reign of
Rufus was a reign of fearful oppression; but his oppression seems to
have consisted more in the unrestrained licence which he allowed to
his followers than in any special deeds of personal cruelty done by
his own hands or by his immediate orders. Rufus certainly did not
share his father’s life-long shrinking from taking human life anywhere
but in battle; but his brother Henry, the model ruler of his time, the
king who made peace for man and deer, is really chargeable with uglier
deeds in his own person than any that can be distinctly proved against
the Red King. We are driven back to our old distinction. The excesses
of the followers of Rufus, the reign of unright and unlaw which they
brought with them, did or threatened harm to every man in his
dominions; the occasional cruelties of Henry hurt only a few people,
while the general strictness of his rule profited every one. What
makes William Rufus stand out personally in so specially hateful a
light is not so much deeds of personal cruelty, as indulgence in the
foulest forms of vice, combined with a form of irreligion which
startled not only saints but ordinary sinners. And the point is that,
hateful as these features in his character were, they did not hinder
the presence of other features which were not hateful in the view of
his own age, of some indeed which are not hateful in the view of any
age.
[Sidenote: His marked personality.]
[Sidenote: Comparison with his father.]
[Sidenote: His alleged firmness of purpose.]
[Sidenote: His caprice.]
[Sidenote: His unfinished campaigns.]
The marked personality of William Rufus, the way in which that
personality stamped itself on the memory of his age, is shown by the
elaborate pictures which we have of his character, and by the crowd of
personal anecdotes by which those pictures are illustrated. Allowing
for the sure tendency of such a character to get worse, we may take
our survey of the Red King as he seemed in men’s eyes when the
restraints of his earlier life were taken away. As long as his father
lived, he had little power to do evil; as long as Lanfranc lived, he
was kept within some kind of bounds by respect for the man to whom he
owed so much. When Lanfranc was gone, he either was corrupted by
prosperity, or else, like Tiberius,[405] his natural character was now
for the first time able to show itself in the absence of restraint.
His character then stood out boldly, and men might compare him with
his father. William the Red may pass for William the Great with all
his nobler qualities, intellectual and moral, left out.[406] He could
be, when he chose, either a great captain or a great ruler; but it was
only by fits and starts that he chose to be either. His memory was
strong; he at least never forgot an injury; he had also a kind of
firmness of purpose; that is, he was earnest in whatever he undertook
for good or for evil, and could not easily be turned from his
will.[407] But he lacked that true steadiness of purpose, that power
of waiting for the right time, that unfailing adaptation of means to
ends, which lends somewhat of moral dignity even to the worst deeds of
his father. The elder William, we may be sure, loved power and loved
success; he loved them as the objects and the rewards of a
well-studied and abiding policy. The younger William rather loved the
excitement of winning them, and the ostentatious display of them when
they were won. Hard as it was for others to turn him from his purpose,
no man was more easily turned from it by his own caprice. No man began
so many things and finished so few of them. His military undertakings
are always ably planned and set on foot with great vigour. But his
campaigns come to an end without any visible cause. After elaborate
preparations and energetic beginnings, the Red King turns away to
something else, often without either any marked success to satisfy him
or any marked defeat to discourage him. If he could not carry his
point at the first rush, he seems to have lacked steadiness to go on.
We have seen what he could do when fighting for his crown at the head
of a loyal nation. He does not show in so favourable a light, even as
a captain, much less as a man, when he was fighting to gratify a
restless ambition at the head of hirelings gathered from every land.
[Sidenote: His “magnanimity.”]
[Sidenote: His boundless pride.]
[Sidenote: His private demeanour.]
[Sidenote: Trick of his chamberlain.]
The two qualities for which he is chiefly praised by the writer who
strives to make the best of him are his magnanimity and his
liberality. The former word must not be taken in its modern English
use. It is reckoned as a virtue; it therefore does not exactly answer
to the older English use of the word “high-minded;” but it perhaps
comes nearer to it than to anything that would be spoken of as
magnanimity now. It was at all events a virtue which easily
degenerated into a vice; the magnanimity of William Rufus changed, it
is allowed, by degrees into needless harshness.[408] The leading
feature of the Red King’s character was a boundless pride and
self-confidence, tempered by occasional fits of that kind of
generosity which is really the offspring of pride. We see little in
him either of real justice or of real mercy; but he held himself too
high to hurt those whom he deemed it beneath him to hurt. His
overweening notion of his own greatness, personal and official, his
belief in the dignity of kings and specially in the dignity of King
William of England, led him, perhaps not to a belief in his star like
Buonaparte, certainly not to a belief in any favouring power, like
Sulla,[409] but to a kind of conviction that neither human strength
nor the powers of nature could or ought to withstand his will. This
high opinion of himself he asserted after his own fashion. The stern
and dignified aspect of his father degenerated in him into the mere
affectation of a lofty bearing, a fierce and threatening look.[410]
This was for the outside world; in the lighter moments of more
familiar intercourse, the grim pleasantry into which the stately
courtesy of his father sometimes relaxed degenerated in him into a
habit of reckless jesting, which took the specially shameless form of
mocking excuses for his own evil deeds.[411] Indeed his boasted
loftiness of spirit sometimes laid him open to be mocked and cheated
by those around him. One of the endless stories about him, stories
which, true or false, mark the character of the man, told how, when
his chamberlain brought him a pair of new boots, he asked the price.
Hearing that they cost three shillings only――a good price, one would
have thought, in the coinage of those times――he bade his officer take
them away as unworthy of a king and bring him a pair worth a mark of
silver. The cunning chamberlain brought a worse pair, which he
professed to have bought at the higher price, and which Rufus
accordingly pronounced to be worthy of a King’s majesty.[412] Such a
tale could not have been believed or invented except of a man in whose
nature true dignity, true greatness of soul, found no place, but who
was puffed up with a feeling of his own importance, which, if it could
sometimes be shaped into the likeness of something nobler, could also
sometimes sink into vanity of the silliest and most childish kind.
[Sidenote: His “liberality.”]
[Sidenote: His wastefulness.]
[Sidenote: His reward to the loyal troops after the rebellion.]
[Sidenote: His extortions.]
[Sidenote: His generally strict government.]
[Sidenote: His lavishness to his mercenaries.]
[Sidenote: Chiefly foreigners.]
[Sidenote: Their wrongdoings.]
[Sidenote: Statute of Henry against them. 1108.]
But the quality for which the Red King was most famous in his own day,
a quality which was, we are told, blazed abroad through all lands,
East and West, was what his own age called his boundless liberality.
The wealth of England was a standing subject of wonder in other lands,
and in the days of Rufus men wondered no less at the lavish way in
which it was scattered abroad by the open hand of her King.[413] But
the liberality of Rufus had no claim to that name in its higher
sense.[414] It was not that kind of liberality which spends
ungrudgingly for good purposes out of stores which have been honestly
come by; it was a liberality which gave for purposes of wrong out of
stores which were brought together by wrong. It was a liberality which
consisted in the most reckless personal waste in matters of daily
life, and which in public affairs took the form of lavish bribes paid
to seduce the subjects of other princes from their allegiance, of
lavish payments to troops of mercenary soldiers, hired for the
oppression of his own dominions and the disquieting of the dominions
of others. It was said of him that the merchant could draw from him
any price for his wares, and that the soldier could draw from him any
pay for his services.[415] The sources which supplied William with his
wealth were of a piece with the objects to which his wealth was
applied; under him the two ideas of liberality and oppression can
never be separated. What was called liberality by the foreign
mercenary was called extortion by the plundered Englishman. The hoard
at Winchester, full as the Conqueror had left it, could not stay full
for ever; it is implied that it was greatly drawn upon by gifts to
those who saved William’s crown and kingdom at Pevensey and
Rochester.[416] This was of a truth the best spent money of the Red
King’s reign; for it rewarded true and honest service, and service
done by the hands of Englishmen. But to fill the hoard again, to keep
it filled amid the constant drain, to keep up with the lavishness of
one to whom prodigality had become part of his nature,[417] needed
every kind of unrighteous extortion. The land was bowed down by what,
in the living speech of our forefathers, was called _ungeld_; money,
that is, wrung from the people by unrede, unright, and unlaw.[418]
Like his father, Rufus was, as a rule, strict in preserving the peace
of the land; his hand was heavy on the murderer and the robber. The
law of his father which forbade the punishment of death[419] was
either formally repealed or allowed to fall into disuse. The robber
was now sent to the gallows; but, when he had got thither, he might
still save his neck by a timely payment to the King’s coffers.[420]
And the sternness of the law which smote offenders who had no such
prevailing plea was relaxed also in favour of all who were in the
immediate service of the King.[421] The chief objects of William’s
boasted liberality were his mercenary soldiers, picked men from all
lands. A strong hand and a ready wit, by whomsoever shown and
howsoever proved, were a passport to the Red King’s service and to his
personal favour.[422] And those who thus won his personal favour were
more likely to be altogether strangers than natives of the land,
whether of the conquering or of the conquered race. We may suspect
that the settled inhabitants of England, whether English or Norman,
knew the King’s mercenaries mainly as a body of aliens who had licence
to do any kind of wrong among them without fear of punishment. The
native Englishman and his Norman neighbour had alike to complain of
the chartered brigands who went through the land, wasting the
substance of those who tilled it, and snatching the food out of the
very mouths of the wretched.[423] A more detailed picture sets before
us how, when the King drew near to any place, men fled from their
houses into the woods, or anywhere else where they could hide
themselves. For the King’s followers, when they were quartered in any
house, carried off, sold, or burned, whatever was in it. They took the
householder’s store of drink to wash the feet of their horses, and
everywhere offered the cruellest of insults to men’s wives and
daughters.[424] And for all this no redress was to be had; the law of
the land and the discipline of the camp had alike become a dead letter
in the case of offenders of this class. The oppressions of the King’s
immediate company were often complained of in better times and under
better kings; but they seem to have reached a greater height under
William Rufus than at any time before or after. We hear of no such
doings under the settled rule of the Conqueror; under Henry they were
checked by a statute of fearful severity.[425] As usual, the picture
of the time cannot be so well drawn in any words as those in which the
native Chronicler draws it in our own tongue. King William “was very
strong and stern over his land and his men and his neighbours, and
very much to be feared, and, through evil men’s rede that to him ever
welcome were, and through his own greediness, he harassed his land
with his army and with _ungeld_. For in his days ilk right fell away,
and ilk unright for God and for world uprose.”[426]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Stricter forest laws.]
[Sidenote: Story of the fifty Englishmen.]
[Sidenote: Why mentioned as Englishmen.]
[Sidenote: Their acquittal by ordeal.]
[Sidenote: The King’s blasphemous comment.]
Thus were the promises with which William Rufus had bought the help of
the English people in his day of danger utterly trampled under foot.
He had promised them good laws and freedom from unrighteous taxes; he
had promised them that they should have again, as in the days of
Cnut,[427] the right of every man to slay the beasts of the field for
his lawful needs. Instead of all this, the reign of the younger
William became, above all other reigns, a reign of _unlaw_ and of
_ungeld_. The savage pleasures of the father, for the sake of which he
had laid waste the homes and fields of Hampshire, were sought after by
the son with a yet keener zest, and were fenced in by a yet sterner
code. In the days of William the Red the man who slew a hart had, what
he had not in the days of William the Great, to pay for his crime with
his life.[428] The working of this stern law is shown in one of the
many stories of William Rufus, a story of which we should like to hear
the end a little more clearly.[429] Fifty men were charged with having
taken, killed, and eaten the King’s deer. We are so generally left to
guess at the nationality of the lesser actors in our story that our
attention is specially called to the marked way in which we are told
that they were men of Old-English birth, once of high rank in the
land, and who had contrived still to keep some remnants of their
ancient wealth.[430] They belonged doubtless to the class of King’s
thegns; if we were told in what shire the tale was laid, Domesday
might help us to their names. This is one of the very few passages
which might suggest the notion that Englishmen, as Englishmen, were
specially picked out for oppression. And it may well be true that the
forest laws pressed with special harshness on native Englishmen; no
man would have so great temptation to offend against them as a
dispossessed Englishman. What is not shown is that a man of Norman
birth who offended in the same way would have fared any better. The
mention of the accused men as Englishmen comes from the teller of the
story only; and he most likely points out the fact in order to explain
what next follows. On their denying the charge, they were sent to the
ordeal of hot iron. Granting that killing a deer was a crime at all,
this was simply the ancient English way of dealing with the alleged
criminal. We are therefore a little surprised when our informant seems
to speak of the appeal to the ordeal as a piece of special
cruelty.[431] The fiery test was gone through; but God, we are told,
took care to save the innocent, and on the third day, when their hands
were formally examined, they were found to be unhurt. The King in his
wrath uttered words of blasphemy. Men said that God was a just judge;
he would believe it no longer. God was no judge of these matters; he
would for the future take them into his own hands.[432] To understand
the full force of such words, we must remember that the ordeal was, in
its own nature, an appeal to the judgement of God in cases when there
was no evidence on which man could found a judgement.[433] What
happened further we are not told; it can hardly be meant that the men
in whose favour the judgement of God was held to have been given were
sent to the gallows all the same.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Special vices of Rufus.]
In this last story the most distinctive feature of the character of
William Rufus comes out. In many of his recorded deeds we see the
picture of an evil man and an evil king, but still of a man and a king
whose deeds might find many parallels in other times and places. But
the story in which he mocks at the ordeal leads us to those other
points in him which give him a place of his own, a place which perhaps
none other in the long roll-call of evil kings can dispute with him.
Other kings have been cruel; others have been lustful; others have
broken their faith with their people, and have said in their hearts
that there was no God. But the Red King stands well nigh alone in
bringing back the foulest vices of heathendom into a Christian land,
and at the same time openly proclaiming himself the personal enemy of
his Maker.
[Sidenote: Contrast between Rufus and his father.]
[Sidenote: Old and new fashions of dress.]
[Sidenote: The pointed shoes.]
[Sidenote: Fashionable vices of the time.]
[Sidenote: Personal crimes of the King.]
It is with regard to his daily life and to the beliefs and objects
which his age looked on as sacred that William Rufus stands out in the
most glaring contrast to his father. William the Great, I need hardly
repeat, was austere in his personal morals and a strict observer of
every outward religious duty. His court was decent; the men who stood
before him kept, we are told, to the modesty of the elder days. Their
clothes were fitted to the form of their bodies, leaving them ready to
run or ride or do anything that was to be done.[434] They shaved their
beards――all save penitents, captives, and pilgrims――and cut their hair
close.[435] But with the death of William, of Pope Gregory, and of
other religious princes, the good old times passed away, and their
decorous fashions were forgotten through all the Western lands.[436]
Then vain and foppish forms of attire came in. The gilded youth of
Normandy and of Norman England began to wear long garments like women,
which hindered walking or acting of any kind; they let their hair grow
long like women; they copied the walk and mien of women.[437] Above
all, their feet were shod with shoes with long curved points, like the
horns of rams or the tails of scorpions. These long and puffed shoes
were the device of a courtier of Rufus, Robert henceforth surnamed the
_Cornard_, and they were further improved by Count Fulk of Anjou, when
he wished to hide the swellings on his gouty feet.[438] The long hair
and the long-pointed shoes serve as special subjects for declamation
among the moral writers of the time.[439] But these unseemly fashions
were only the outward signs of the deeper corruption within. The
courtiers, the minions, of Rufus, forerunners of the minions of the
last Henry of Valois, altogether forsook the law of God and the
customs of their fathers. The day they passed in sleep; the night in
revellings, dicing, and vain talk.[440] Vices before unknown, the
vices of the East, the special sin, as Englishmen then deemed, of the
Norman, were rife among them. And deepest of all in guilt was the Red
King himself. Into the details of the private life of Rufus it is well
not to grope too narrowly. In him England might see on her own soil
the habits of the ancient Greek and the modern Turk. His sins were of
a kind from which his brother Henry, no model of moral perfection, was
deemed to be wholly free, and which he was believed to look upon with
loathing.[441]
[Sidenote: His irreligion.]
[Sidenote: Coming of the Jews.]
[Sidenote: Their position in England.]
[Sidenote: Favour shown to them by Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Comparison with the Sicilian Saracens.]
[Sidenote: William’s vein of mockery.]
Sinners, even of the special type of the Red King, have before now
been zealous supporters of orthodoxy. If William persecuted Anselm,
Constans defended Athanasius. But the foulness of William’s life was
of a piece with his open mockery of everything which other men in his
day held sacred. Whatever else divided Englishman and Norman, they
were at least one in religious doctrine and religious worship. In
matters of dogma Stigand was as orthodox as Lanfranc. But now, among
the endless classes of adventurers whom the Conquest brought to try
their luck in the conquered land, came men of a race whom Normans and
Englishmen alike looked on as cut off from all national and religious
fellowship. In the wake of the Conqueror the Jews of Rouen found their
way to London,[442] and before long we find settlements of the Hebrew
race in the chief cities and boroughs of England, at York, Winchester,
Lincoln, Bristol, Oxford, and even at the gates of the Abbots of Saint
Edmund’s and Saint Alban’s.[443] They came as the King’s special men,
or more truly his special chattels, strangers alike to the Church and
to the commonwealth of England, but strong in the protection of a
master who commonly found it to his interest to defend them against
all others. Hated, feared, and loathed, but far too deeply feared to
be scorned or oppressed, they stalked defiantly among the people of
the land, on whose wants they throve. They lived safe from harm or
insult, save now and then, when popular wrath burst all bounds, and
when their proud mansions and fortified quarters could shelter them no
longer from raging crowds eager to wash out their debts in the blood
of their creditors.[444] The romantic picture of the despised,
trembling, Jew, cringing before every Christian that he meets, is, in
any age of English history, simply a romantic picture. In the days of
Rufus at all events, the Jews of Rouen and London stood erect before
the prince of the land, and they seem to have enjoyed no small share
of his favour and personal familiarity. The presence of the
unbelieving Hebrew supplied the Red King with many opportunities for
mocking at Christianity and its ministers. He is even said to have
shown himself more than once, when it was to his interest so to show
himself, as a kind of missionary of the Hebrew faith. He was not the
only prince of his age who discouraged conversions to Christianity on
the part of distinct races who could be made more useful, if they
remained distinct, and who could in no way be kept so distinct as if
they remained in the position of infidels. Count Roger of Sicily found
that the unbelieving Saracens,[445] and William Rufus found that the
unbelieving Hebrews, were, each in their own way, more profitable to
their several masters than if they had been allowed to lose their
distinct being among their Christian neighbours. But in the whole
dealings of Rufus with the Jews there is a vein of mockery in which,
if Roger shared, it is not recorded. It is true that we do not find
Rufus taking the part of the Jew, except when the Jew made it worth
his while to do so. But when he did take the Jew’s part, he clearly
found a malicious pleasure in taking it. He enjoyed showing favour to
the Jew, because so to do gave annoyance to the Christian.
[Sidenote: Question of William’s scepticism.]
[Sidenote: The dispute between Jews and Christians.]
[Sidenote: Jews turn back again.]
[Sidenote: Story of the convert Stephen and his father.]
[Sidenote: Dispute between Stephen and the King.]
[Sidenote: The King’s compromise with Stephen’s father.]
Whether Rufus was in any strict sense an intellectual sceptic may be
doubted. That he was such cannot be inferred from his bidding in
bitter mockery the Jewish rabbis and the bishops of England to dispute
before him on the tenets of their several creeds, promising to embrace
the faith of the strangers, if they should have the better in the
discussion. The discussion took place in London, most likely when the
prelates were gathered for some Whitsun Gemót. The Christian cause was
supported by several bishops and clerks――one would like to have their
names――who argued, we are told, in great fear on behalf of the faith
which was thus jeoparded.[446] As is usual in such cases, each side
claimed the victory;[447] but in any case the arguments on the Hebrew
side were not so overwhelming as to make the King become an avowed
votary of Moses. Still he did what he could to hinder the ranks of the
Church from being swelled at the cost of the synagogue. In a story
which must belong to the latter part of his reign, we read how the
Jews of Rouen began to be frightened at the great numbers of their
body who fell away from the law of their fathers. They came to the
King, and, by a large bribe, obtained from him a promise that the
converts should be constrained to go back to the faith which they had
forsaken. They were brought before Rufus, and most of them were by his
terrible threats forced again to apostatize.[448] The tale of the Red
King’s success in this crooked kind of missionary enterprise reached
the ears of a Jew father――where we are not told――whose only and
well-beloved son was lost to him by conversion to the Christian faith.
The young man had been favoured with a vision of the protomartyr
Stephen, who had bidden him ask for baptism and take his own name at
the font.[449] He went to a priest, told his tale, and was admitted to
baptism by the name which was appointed to him. His father, mourning
for his loss, went to King William and made his complaint; praying
that at his command his son might be restored to his old faith.[450]
Rufus held his peace; the argument which alone persuaded him to meddle
in such matters had not yet been urged.[451] A promise of sixty marks
of silver, payable on the second conversion of the youth, brought the
King to another mind,[452] and Stephen was called into the royal
presence. A dialogue took place between the King and the neophyte, in
which Rufus, remembering perhaps the one redeeming feature in his own
life, pressed Stephen’s return to Judaism as a matter of filial duty.
The youth humbly suggests that the King is joking. Rufus waxes wroth,
and takes to words of abuse and to his usual oath. Stephen’s eyes
shall be torn out, if he does not presently obey his bidding.[453] The
youth stands firm, and even rebukes the King. He can be no good
Christian who, instead of trying to win to Christ those who are
estranged from him, strives to drive back those who have already
embraced his faith. Rufus, put to shame by the answer, has nothing to
say, but drives Stephen from his presence with scorn.[454] The Jew
father is waiting without. His son overwhelms him with words of abuse
which even zeal for his new faith would hardly justify. He would no
longer acknowledge a father in one whose own father was the Devil, and
who, not satisfied with his own damnation, sought the damnation of his
son.[455] With this somewhat harsh way of putting matters, the zealous
youth vanishes from the story; the Jew father has yet another turn
with the Red King. He is called in, and Rufus says that he has done
what he had been asked to do, and demands the promised payment for his
pains.[456] The Jew expostulates. His son, he says, is firmer than
ever in his Christian faith and in his hatred towards himself. Yet the
King says that he has done what he had been asked, and demands
payment. “Finish,” he goes on, with a boldness which challenges some
sympathy, “what you have begun, and then we will settle about my
promise; such was our agreement.”[457] It is characteristic of Rufus
not to be angry at a really bold word. Evidently entering into the
grotesque side of the dispute, he rejects the doctrine of payment by
results; he answers that he has done his best, and that, though he had
not succeeded, he cannot go away with nothing for his trouble.[458] At
last, after some further haggling, the parties in this strange dispute
come to a compromise. The Jew pays, and the King receives, half the
sum which had been promised in the beginning.
[Sidenote: William’s defiance of God.]
[Sidenote: 1093.]
[Sidenote: His contempt for the saints.]
[Sidenote: Frequency of blasphemy.]
[Sidenote: Contrast of Saint Lewis.]
[Sidenote: Case of Henry the Second.]
A king of whom such stories as these could be told, whether every
detail is literally true or not, must have utterly cast aside all the
decencies of his own or of any other age. But Rufus, according to the
tales told of him, went even further than this. He is charged with a
kind of personal defiance of the Almighty, quite distinct alike from
mere carelessness and from speculative unbelief. When he recovered
from the sickness which forms such an epoch in his life, “God,” he
said, “shall never see me a good man; I have suffered too much at his
hands.”[459] He mocked at God’s judgement and doubted his justice――his
disbelief in the ordeal is quoted as an instance. Either God did not
know the deeds of men, or else he weighed them in an unfair
balance.[460] He was wroth if any one ventured to add the usual
reserve of God’s will to anything which he, King William, undertook or
ordered to be undertaken. He had that belief in himself that he would
have everything referred to his own wisdom and power only.[461] Modern
ideas might be less shocked at another alleged sign of his impiety. He
was said to have declared publicly that neither Saint Peter nor any
other saint had any influence with God, and that he would ask none of
them for help.[462] In all this we are again left in doubt whether we
are dealing with a speculative unbeliever, or only with one who was so
puffed up with pride that he liked not to be reminded of any power
greater than his own, least of all of a power which might some day
call him to account for his evil deeds. And though William Rufus
clearly went lengths in his defiance of God to which even bad men were
unaccustomed, we must remember that something of the same kind in a
less degree was not uncommon in his time. Blasphemy strictly so
called, that is, neither simple irreverence nor intellectual unbelief,
but direct reviling and defiance of a power which, by the very terms
of the defiance, is believed in, is a vice of which Englishmen of our
own day have hardly any notion. But, as it has many parallels in
heathen creeds, as it has not yet died out in all parts of
Christendom, so it was by no means unknown in the days with which we
are dealing. Its frequency at a somewhat later time is shown when the
biographer of Saint Lewis sets it down as one of his special virtues,
that he never, under any circumstance, allowed any reviling of God or
the saints.[463] On the other hand, we find Henry the Second, whom
there is no reason whatever to look on as a speculative unbeliever,
indulging, as in lesser forms of irreverence, so also in direct
reviling of God.[464] But the vice, to us so revolting and
unintelligible, seems to have reached its highest point in the King of
whom men said in proverbs that he every morning got up a worse man
than he lay down, and every evening lay down a worse man than he got
up.[465]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Redeeming features in Rufus’ character.]
[Sidenote: Little personal cruelty.]
[Sidenote: Respect to his father’s memory.]
[Sidenote: His foundations.]
[Sidenote: Le Mans.]
Thus far we are inclined to see in our second William a character of
unmixed blackness, alike as a man and as a King. There seems no room
left for even pagan virtues in the oppressor, the blasphemer, the man
given up to vices at whose foulness ordinary sinners stood aghast. Yet
nothing is plainer than that there was something in the character of
William Rufus which made him not wholly hateful in the eyes of his own
age. There was a side to him which, if we may not strictly call it
virtuous, has yet in it something akin to virtue, as compared with
other sides of him. There is, as I have already hinted, amidst all the
general oppressions of his reign, amidst all the special outrages
which he at least allowed to go unpunished, no sign in him of that
direct delight in human suffering which marks some of his
contemporaries. I have spoken of his dutiful obedience to his father
while he lived; and the sentiment of filial duty lived on after his
father’s death, and showed itself in some singular forms of respect
for his memory. Elsewhere the enemy and spoiler of the Church, towards
his father’s ecclesiastical foundations Rufus appears as a benefactor.
Saint Stephen’s, the monument of his father’s penance, Battle, the
monument of his father’s victory, were both the objects of his
bounty.[466] But it is singularly characteristic that the means for
bounty towards Saint Stephen at Caen were found in the plunder of the
Holy Cross at Waltham.[467] At York, strangely out of the common range
of his actions, we find him counted as a second founder of the
hospital of Saint Peter; we find him changing its site, enlarging its
buildings and revenues, but specially setting forth that he was
confirming the gifts of his father.[468] We shall see that, in all his
wars, it was his special ambition to keep whatever had been his
father’s; whatever he lost or won, it was a point of honour to hold
the great trophy of his father’s continental victories. In other
warfare the Red King might halt or dally or put up with an imperfect
conquest. But when Le Mans, castle and city, was to be kept or won,
when the royal tower of his father was in jeopardy or in hostile
hands, then the heart of Rufus never waxed weak in counsel, his arm
never faltered in the fight.
[Sidenote: His chivalrous spirit.]
[Sidenote: Chivalry a new thing.]
But one form of words which I have just used opens to us one special
side of the character of the Red King which is apt to be overlooked. I
have spoken of the point of honour. I am not sure that, in the
generation before Rufus, those words could have applied in all their
fulness either to Harold of England or to William of Normandy, either
to Gyrth of East-Anglia or to Roger of Beaumont. But to no man that
ever lived was the whole train of thoughts and feelings suggested by
those words more abidingly present than they were to the Red King. It
might be going too far to say that William Rufus was the first
gentleman, as his claim to that title might be disputed by his
forefather Duke Richard the Good.[469] But he was certainly the first
man in any very prominent place by whom the whole set of words,
thoughts, and feelings, which belong to the titles of knight and
gentleman were habitually and ostentatiously thrust forward.
[Sidenote: True character of chivalry.]
[Sidenote: The knight and the monk.]
[Sidenote: His word when kept and when broken.]
[Sidenote: His knightly courtesy.]
[Sidenote: His trust in the knightly word of others.]
[Sidenote: Contrast with Helias.]
[Sidenote: Importance of this side of his character.]
[Sidenote: He marks the beginning of a new æra.]
We have now in short reached the days of chivalry, the days of that
spirit on which two of the masters of history have spoken in words so
strong that I should hardly venture to follow them.[470] Of that
spirit, the spirit which, instead of striving to obey the whole law of
right, picks out a few of its precepts to be observed under certain
circumstances and towards certain classes of people, William the Red
was one of the foremost models. The knight, like the monk, arbitrarily
picks out certain virtues, to be observed in such an exclusive and
one-sided way as almost to turn them into vices. He has his arbitrary
code of honour to supplant alike the law of God and the law of the
land. That code teaches the duties of good faith, courtesy,
mercy――under certain circumstances and towards certain people. Was
William Rufus a man of his word? His subjects as a body had no reason
to think so; the princes of other lands had no reason to think so. His
promises to his people went for nothing; his treaties with other
princes went for nothing.[471] To observe both of these was the dull
everyday duty of a Christian man whom it had pleased God to call to a
particular state of life, that namely of a king. Holding, as Rufus
did, that no man could keep all his promises,[472] these were the
class of promises that he thought it needless to try to keep. But when
William plighted his word in the character of the _probus miles_, the
_preux chevalier_, in modern phrase, as “an officer and a gentleman,”
no man kept it more strictly. No man cared less for the justice of his
wars; no man cared less for the wrong and suffering which his warfare
caused. But no man ever more scrupulously observed all the mere
courtesies of warfare. He was not like Robert of Bellême. The life and
limb of the prisoner of knightly rank were safe in his hands. Indeed
any man of any rank who appealed to his personal generosity was always
safe. Under the influence of the law of honour, the tyrant, the
blasphemer, the extortioner, the oppressor who neither feared God nor
regarded man, puts on an air of unselfishness, of unworldliness.
Strict in the observance of his own knightly word, he places unbounded
confidence in the knightly word of others. He thrusts indignantly
aside the suggestion of colder spirits that a captive knight may
possibly break his _parole_.[473] We shall see all this as we follow
the tale of his strife with Helias of Maine, one who was as scrupulous
an observer of the law of honour as himself, but one who did not let
the law of honour stand in the place of higher and older laws. And
this is a side of the character of Rufus on which it is important to
dwell, as it is one which the popular conception of him, a conception
perfectly true as far as it goes, is apt to leave out. We have not
grasped the likeness of the real man, unless we remember that the man
whose crimes and vices the popular picture has not exaggerated,
carried with him through life a sentimental standard of filial duty
and reverence, and a knightly conscience, if the phrase may pass, as
quick to speak and as sure to be obeyed as the higher conscience of
Anselm or Helias. Without fully taking this in, we shall not easily
understand the twofold light in which Rufus looked to the men of his
own age, in whose eyes he clearly was not wholly hateful. And without
fully taking it in, we shall fail to give him his place in the general
history of England, Normandy, and mankind in general. In William Rufus
we have not only to study a very varied and remarkable phase of human
nature; we have also to look on a man who marks the beginning of a new
age and a new state of feeling.
[Sidenote: Chivalry the bad side of some princes;]
[Sidenote: Its one-sided nature.]
[Sidenote: Its incidental use.]
[Sidenote: Instances of obedience to a higher law.]
[Sidenote: Practical working of chivalry.]
[Sidenote: Bayard.]
[Sidenote: The Black Prince.]
[Sidenote: Francis the First of France.]
[Sidenote: Twofold character of the Black Prince.]
The Red King has indeed this advantage, that the other parts of his
character are so bad that the chivalrous side of him stands out as a
relief, as at least comparative light amid surrounding darkness. There
are other princes in whom the chivalrous side is the dark side,
because there are other parts of their character better than chivalry.
The essence of chivalry is that the fantastic and capricious law of
honour displaces all the forms of the law of right. The standard of
the good knight, the rule of good faith, respect, and courtesy, as due
from one knight to another, displaces the higher standard of the man,
the citizen, and the Christian. There are perhaps whole ages, there
certainly are particular men, in which this lower standard has its
use. Any check, any law, is better than no check and no law. He who
cannot rise to the higher rank of an honest man had better be a knight
and gentleman than a mere knave and ruffian. If a man cannot be kept
back from all crimes by the law of right, it is a gain that he should
be kept back from some crimes by the law of honour. It was better that
William Rufus should show mercy and keep his word in some particular
kind of cases than that he should never show mercy or keep his word at
all. But the very fact that such an one as Rufus could feel bound by
the law of honour shows how feeble a check the law of honour is. And
we must remember that the very feeling of courtesy and deference
towards men of a certain rank led only to more reckless and
contemptuous oppression of all who lay without the favoured pale. And,
at least as regards particular men, the beginning of the days of
chivalry was the falling back from a higher standard. We have come
across men in our own story who showed that they obeyed a better law
than that of honour. It was not at the bidding of chivalry or honour,
it was not in the character of knight or gentleman, that Herlwin made
light of his own wrongs by the side of those of his poor
peasants,[474] or that Harold refused to harry the lands of the men
who had chosen him to be their king.[475] But the law of honour and
chivalry was most fully obeyed, the character of knight and gentleman
was shown in its full perfection, when the Knight without Fear and
without Reproach refused to expose himself to toils of war which were
too dangerous for any but the base churl.[476] It was fully carried
out when the mirror of chivalry, the Black Prince himself, gave their
lives to the French knights who fought against him, and murdered the
unarmed men, women, and children, who craved for mercy.[477] It was no
less worthily carried out by the king who ever had the faith of a
gentleman on his lips, who boasted that he had never broken his word
except to women, and who betrayed, not only the women, but the allied
princes and commonwealths who trusted in him. William the Red at least
need not shrink from a comparison with Francis of Valois.[478] But it
must not be forgotten that one of the chivalrous heroes on our list
had a side to him better than his chivalry. William the Great
assuredly, and I believe William the Red also, would have shrunk from
such a deed as the slaughter of Limoges. But he who wrought the
slaughter of Limoges was also the patriotic statesman of the Good
Parliament. The knight, courteous and bloody as became his knighthood,
could turn about and act as something better than a knight. In such a
man we must measure the balance of good and evil as we can, and the
chivalrous side of him is the evil side. In William Rufus the
chivalrous side is the better side; it is the comparatively bright
spot in a picture otherwise of utter blackness.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Grouping of events in the reign of Rufus.]
The chief events of the reign of William Rufus fall into two classes.
There is the military side; there is the ecclesiastical and
constitutional side. There is the side which shows us the noblest and
the basest type of the warrior in Helias of La Flèche and in Robert of
Bellême. There is the side which shows us the noblest and the basest
type of the priest in Anselm of Canterbury and in Randolf of Durham.
The two sides go on together. The most striking features in both
belong to a somewhat later time than that which we have now reached.
But it is the military side in its earlier stages which most directly
connects itself with the tale which we have gone through in the
present chapter. The first Norman campaign of the Red King comes in
date before the archiepiscopate of Anselm; it comes in idea before the
administration of Randolf Flambard. On the other hand, it is directly
connected with the war of Pevensey and Rochester, with the banishment
of Bishop Odo and Bishop William. We will therefore pass to it as the
chief subject of our next chapter.
CHAPTER III.
THE FIRST WARS OF WILLIAM RUFUS.
1090-1092.[479]
[Sidenote: Character of the year 1089.]
[Sidenote: Natural phænomena.]
[Sidenote: The great earthquake. Aug. 11, 1089.]
The rest of the year in which Lanfranc died was unmarked by any
striking public event, political or military. The causes of evil which
had begun to play their part before the Primate’s death, which were
enabled to play it so much more powerfully after his death, were no
doubt already at work; but they had as yet not wrought any open
change, or done anything specially to impress men’s minds. The writers
of the time have nothing to record, except natural phænomena, and it
must be remembered that natural phænomena, and those mostly of a
baleful kind, form a marked feature of the reign of William Rufus.
Even he could hardly be charged with directly causing earthquakes,
storms, and bad harvests; but, in the ideas of his day, it was natural
to look on earthquakes, storms, and bad harvests, either as scourges
sent to punish his evil deeds, or else as signs that some more direct
vengeance was presently coming upon himself. The ever-living belief of
those times in the near connexion between the moral and the physical
world must always be borne in mind in reading their history. And in
the days of William Rufus there was plenty in both worlds to set men’s
minds a-thinking. Lanfranc had not been dead three months before the
land was visited with a mighty earthquake. The strongest
buildings――the massive keeps and minsters lately built or still
building――seemed to spring from the ground and sink back again into
their places.[480] Then came a lack of the fruits of the earth of all
kinds; the harvest was slow in ripening and scanty when it came; men
reaped their corn at Martinmas and yet later.[481]
[Sidenote: Character of the year 1090.]
[Sidenote: Beginnings of foreign adventure.]
[Sidenote: First mention of domestic opposition.]
The next year we find no entries of this kind. There was a mighty stir
in England and in Normandy; but it was not a mere stirring of the
elements. We now enter on the record of the foreign policy and the
foreign wars of the Red King, and we hear the first wail going up from
the oppressed folk within his kingdom. Throughout his reign the growth
of the prince’s power and the grievances of his people go together. In
the former year there was nothing to chronicle but the earthquake and
the late harvest. This year we hear of the first successes of the King
beyond the sea, and we hear, as their natural consequence, that the
“land was fordone with unlawful gelds.”[482]
[Sidenote: The years 1090-1091.]
[Sidenote: Successes in Normandy.]
[Sidenote: Supremacy over Scotland. 1091.]
[Sidenote: Annexation of Cumberland. 1092.]
The two years which followed the death of Lanfranc saw the attempt of
the first year of Rufus reversed. Instead of the lord of Normandy
striving to win England, the lord of England not only strives, but
succeeds, in making himself master of a large part of the Norman
duchy. Having thus become a continental potentate, the King comes back
to his island kingdom, to establish his Imperial supremacy over the
greatest vassal of his crown, and to do what his father had not done,
to enlarge the borders of his immediate realm by a new land and a new
city.
[Sidenote: Close connexion of English and Norman history.]
[Sidenote: The same main actors in both.]
[Sidenote: Normandy the chief seat of warfare.]
[Sidenote: Contrast between Normandy and England as to private war.]
Through a large part then of the present chapter the scene of our
story will be removed from England to Normandy. Yet it is only the
scene which is changed, not the actors. One main result of the coming
of the first William into England was that for a while the history of
Normandy and that of England cannot be kept asunder. The chief men on
the one side of the water are the chief men on the other side. And the
fact that they were so is the main key to the politics of the time. We
have in the last chapter seen the working of this fact from one side;
we shall now see its working from the other side. The same men flit
backwards and forwards from Normandy to England and from England to
Normandy. But of warfare, public and private, during the reign of
William Rufus and still more during the reign of Henry the First,
Normandy rather than England is the chosen field. Without warfare of
some kind a Norman noble could hardly live. And for that beloved
employment Normandy gave many more opportunities than England. The
Duke of the Normans, himself after all the man of a higher lord, could
not be――at least no duke but William the Great could be――in his
continental duchy all that the King of the English, Emperor in his own
island, could be within his island realm. Private war was lawful in
Normandy――the Truce of God itself implied its lawfulness; it never was
lawful in England. And wars with France, wars with Anjou, the endless
struggle in and for the borderland of Maine, went much further towards
taxing the strength and disturbing the peace of the Norman duchy, than
the endless strife on the Welsh and Scottish marches could go towards
taxing the strength and disturbing the peace of the English kingdom.
Normandy then will be our fighting-ground far more than England; but
the fighting men will be the same in both lands.
[Sidenote: The old and the new generation.]
[Sidenote: Bishop Odo.]
[Sidenote: Hugh. d. 1101.]
[Sidenote: Roger. d. 1094.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Mowbray.]
[Sidenote: William of Warren.]
[Sidenote: Walter Giffard, d. 1102.]
[Sidenote: William of Eu.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Bellême.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Meulan.]
The old companions of the Conqueror were by this time beginning to
make way for a new generation. The rebellion of 1088 saw the last
exploits of some of them. Yet others among them will still be actors
for a while. Bishop Odo, cut off from playing any part in England,
still plays a part in Normandy. The great border earls, Hugh of
Chester and of Avranches, Roger of Shrewsbury and of Montgomery, die
in the course of our tale, but not till we have something more to tell
about both of them, and a good deal to tell about the longer-lived of
the two. Their younger fellow, Robert of Mowbray, after becoming the
chief centre of one part of our story, leaves the world by a living
death. The new Earl of Surrey, if not already dead, passes away
without anything further to record of him; Walter Giffard, old as a
man, but young as an earl, still lives on. But younger men are coming
into sight. William of Eu, the son of the still living Count Robert,
has already come before us as a chief actor in our story, and we shall
see him as the chiefest sufferer. But above all, two men, whom we have
hitherto seen only by fits and starts, now come to the front as chief
actors on both sides of the sea. Before we enter on the details of
Norman affairs, it will be well to try clearly to take in the
character and position of two famous bearers of the same name, great
alike in England, in Normandy, and in France, Robert of Bellême,
afterwards of Shrewsbury, of Bridgenorth, and of both Montgomeries,
and Robert, Count of the French county of Meulan, heir of the great
Norman house of Beaumont, and forefather of the great English house of
Leicester.
[Sidenote: History and character of Robert of Bellême.]
[Sidenote: Succeeds his mother Mabel. 1082.]
[Sidenote: Her inheritance.]
[Sidenote: Succeeds his father at Montgomery, 1094;]
[Sidenote: and his brother at Shrewsbury, 1098.]
[Sidenote: His wife Agnes of Ponthieu.]
[Sidenote: Guy Count of Ponthieu. 1053-1100.]
[Sidenote: Greatness of Robert’s possessions.]
[Sidenote: Great part played by him.]
The two Rogers, fathers of the two Roberts, are still living; but for
the rest of their days they play a part quite secondary to that played
by their sons. Robert of Bellême, the eldest son of Roger of
Montgomery, has already come before us several times, most prominently
as a sharer in the rebellion raised by the present Duke against his
father in Normandy[483] and in the rebellion raised on his behalf
against his brother. As son of the slain Countess Mabel,[484] he was
heir of the house of Talvas, heir alike of their possessions and of
their reputed wickedness. Lord through his mother of the castle from
which he took his name, lord of a crowd of other castles on the
border-lands of Normandy, Perche, and Maine, Robert of Bellême, Robert
Talvas, stands forth for the present as the son of Mabel rather than
as the son of Roger. In after times counties and lordships flowed in
upon him from various sources and in various quarters. The death of
his father gave him the old Norman possessions of the house of
Montgomery; the death of his brother gave him the new English
possessions of that house, the great earldom of Shrewsbury and all
that went with it. We seem to be carried back to past times when we
find that Robert of Bellême was married to the daughter of Guy of
Ponthieu, the gaoler of Harold, and that, at the accession of William
Rufus, Guy had still as many years to reign as the Red King himself.
Guy’s death at last added Ponthieu to the possessions of the house of
Bellême, nominally in the person of Robert’s son William Talvas,
practically in that of Robert himself. The lord of such lands, master
of four and thirty castles,[485] ranked rather with princes than with
ordinary nobles; and even now, when Robert held only the inheritance
of his mother, the extent and nature of his fiefs gave him a position
almost princely. The man alike of Normandy and of France, he could
make use of the profitable as well as the dangerous side of a divided
allegiance, and it is not without reason that we find the lord of the
border-land spoken of by the fitting title of Marquess.[486] From the
death of the Conqueror onwards, through the reigns of Robert and
William, till the day when Henry sent him to a life-long prison,
Robert of Bellême fills in the history of Normandy and England a place
alongside of their sovereigns.
[Sidenote: His character.]
[Sidenote: His surname.]
[Sidenote: His skill in engineering.]
[Sidenote: His special and wanton cruelty.]
[Sidenote: His treatment of his wife]
[Sidenote: and his godson.]
With the inheritance of Mabel and William Talvas, their son and
grandson was believed to have succeeded in full measure to the
hereditary wickedness of their house. That house is spoken of as one
at whose deeds dæmons themselves might shudder,[487] and Robert
himself bears in the traditions of his Cenomannian enemies the
frightful surname which has been so unfairly transferred to the father
of the Conqueror. His name lives in proverbs. In the land of Maine his
abiding works are pointed to as the works of Robert the Devil.
Elsewhere the “wonders of Robert of Bellême” became a familiar
saying.[488] That Robert was a man of no small natural gifts is plain;
to the ordinary accomplishments of the Norman warrior he added a
mastery of the more intellectual branches of the art of warfare. As
the Cenomannian legend shows, he stood at the head of his age in the
skill of the military engineer.[489] Firm and daring, ready of wit and
ready of speech, he had in him most of the qualities which might have
made him great in that or in any other age. But, even in that age, he
held a place by himself as a kind of incarnation of evil. Restless
ambition, reckless contempt of the rights of others, were common to
him with many of his neighbours and contemporaries. But he stands
almost alone in his habitual delight in the infliction of human
suffering. The recklessness which lays waste houses and fields, the
cruelty of passion or of policy which slays or mutilates an enemy,
were common in his day. But even then we find only a few men of whom
it was believed that the pangs of other men were to them a direct
source of enjoyment. In Robert sheer love of cruelty displaced even
greediness; he refused ransom for his prisoners that he might have the
pleasure of putting them to lingering deaths.[490] The received forms
of cruelty blinding and mutilation, were not enough for him; he
brought the horrors of the East into Western Europe; men, and women
too, were left at his bidding to writhe on the sharp stake.[491]
Distrustful of all men, artful, flattering, courteous of speech, his
profession of friendship was the sure path to destruction.[492] The
special vices of William Rufus are not laid to his charge; it is at
least to the credit of Latin Christendom in the eleventh century that
it needs the union of its two worst sinners to form the likeness of an
Ottoman Majesty, Excellency, or Highness in the nineteenth. But his
domestic life was hardly happy. His wife Agnes, the heiress of
Ponthieu, the mother of his one child William Talvas, was long kept by
him in bonds in the dungeons of Bellême.[493] And, more piteous than
all, we read how a little boy, his own godchild, drew near to him in
all loving trust. Some say, in the sheer wantonness of cruelty, some
say, to avenge some slight fault of the child’s father, the monster
drew the boy under his cloak and tore out his eyes with his own
hands.[494]
[Sidenote: His enmity]
[Sidenote: to the men of Domfront;]
[Sidenote: to Helias;]
[Sidenote: to Rotrou of Perche;]
[Sidenote: to the prelates of Seez.]
[Sidenote: Abbot Ralph, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury.]
[Sidenote: His imprisonment by Henry. 1110.]
The list of the men, great and small, who were simply wronged and
dispossessed by Robert of Bellême, is long indeed.[495] Some of them,
it is true, were now and then able to revenge their wrongs with their
own arms. He seems, as might have been expected, to have been the
special enemy of all that was specially good in individuals or in
communities. He was the bitter foe of the valiant and faithful men of
Domfront.[496] He was before all things the enemy of Helias of La
Flèche. He was the enemy of his neighbour Count Rotrou of Perche, who
also bears a good character among the princes of his day.[497] As
temporal lord of Seez, he was the enemy of its churches, episcopal and
abbatial; he had not that reverence for the foundation of his father
which is one of the redeeming features in the character of the Red
King. He underwent excommunication from the zeal of Bishop Serlo, and
by the wrongs done by him to Abbot Ralph of Seez, which drove that
prelate to seek shelter in England, he unwittingly gave England a
worthy primate and Anselm a worthy successor.[498] One is inclined to
wonder how such a man gained the special favour of the Conqueror,
whose politic sternness had nothing in common with the fiendish
brutality of Robert.[499] Perhaps, as in William Rufus, the worst
features of his character may for a while have been hidden. It is less
surprising that, in the days of William’s sons, we find him in honour
at the courts of England, Normandy, and France. But at last vengeance
came upon him. When King Henry sent him to spend his days in prison,
it was in a prison so strait and darksome that the outer world knew
not whether he were dead or alive, nor was the time of his death set
down in any record.[500]
[Sidenote: Robert Count of Meulan and Earl of Leicester.]
[Sidenote: His father Roger of Beaumont.]
[Sidenote: He inherits Meulan from his uncle,]
[Sidenote: and Beaumont from his father.]
[Sidenote: His earldom of Leicester.]
[Sidenote: His exploits at Senlac.]
[Sidenote: His fame for wisdom.]
[Sidenote: Character of his influence with Rufus and Henry.]
[Sidenote: His sons.]
[Sidenote: His last days.]
[Sidenote: His death. 1118.]
[Sidenote: Story of his death-bed.]
The other Robert, the son of the other Roger, was a man of a different
mould, a man who would perhaps seem more in place in some other age
than in that in which he lived. He was the son of the old and worthy
Roger of Beaumont, the faithful counsellor of princes, who, like
Gulbert of Hugleville, refused to share in the spoils of England.[501]
Great, like his namesake, in France, Normandy, and England, Robert
passed through a long life unstained by any remarkable crime, though
it was hinted that, of his vast possessions on both sides of the sea,
some were not fairly come by.[502] He is known in history by the name
of his French county of Meulan, which he inherited from his mother’s
brother, Count Hugh, son of Count Waleran, who withdrew to become a
monk of Bec.[503] From his father, when he too had gone to end
his days in his father’s monastery of Preaux, Robert inherited
the lordship of Beaumont, called, from his father’s name,
Beaumont-le-Roger.[504] He shared in the Conqueror’s distribution of
lands in England, and in after days he received the earldom of
Leicester from King Henry, as his less stirring brother Henry had
already received that of Warwick from the Red King. That he was a
brave and skilful soldier we cannot doubt; his establishment in
England was the reward of good service done at one of the most
critical moments of the most terrible of battles.[505] But the warrior
of Senlac hardly appears again in the character of a warrior; he lives
on for many years as a cold and crafty statesman, the counsellor of
successive kings, whose wisdom, surpassing that of all men between
Huntingdon and Jerusalem, was deemed, like that of Ahithophel, to be
like the oracle of God.[506] His counsels were not always of an
amiable kind. Under Rufus, without, as far as we can see, sharing in
his crimes, he checked those chivalrous instincts which were the
King’s nearest approach to virtue.[507] Under Henry his influence was
used to hinder the promotion of Englishmen in their own land.[508] Yet
on the whole his character stands fair. He discouraged foppery and
extravagance by precept and example; he was the right-hand man of King
Henry in maintaining the peace of the land, and he seems to have
shared the higher tastes of the clerkly monarch.[509] Of Anselm he was
sometimes the enemy, sometimes the friend.[510] His sons were well
taught, and they could win the admiration of Pope and cardinals by
their skill in disputation.[511] The eldest, Waleran, his Norman heir,
plays an unlucky part in the reign of Henry;[512] his English heir
Robert continued the line of the Earls of Leicester.[513] His last
days were clouded by domestic troubles;[514] and he is said to have
formally perilled his own soul in his zeal for the temporal welfare of
his sons. On his death-bed, so the story runs, Archbishop Ralph and
other clergy bade him, for his soul’s health, to restore whatever
lands he had gained unjustly.[515] What then, he asked, should he
leave to his sons? “Your old inheritance,” answered Ralph, “and
whatever you have acquired justly. Give up the rest, or you devote
your soul to hell.” The fond father answered that he would leave all
to them, and would trust to their filial piety to make atonement for
his sins.[516] But we are told that Waleran and Robert were too busy
increasing by wrong what had been won by wrong to do anything for the
soul of their father.[517]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Prominence of the two Roberts.]
These are the two men who, of secondary importance in the tale of the
Conquest and of the reign of the first William, become the most
prominent laymen of the reign of the second. The churchmen of the time
who stand forth conspicuously for good and for evil will have their
place in another chapter. But the two Roberts will, next to the King
and the Ætheling, hold the first place in the tale which we have
immediately to tell, as they held it still in days of which we shall
not have the telling, long after the Ætheling had changed into the
King. The force of him of Bellême, the wit of him of Meulan, had their
full place in the affairs both of Normandy and of England, and both
were brought to bear against the prince and people of Maine.
§ 1. _Normandy under Robert. 1087-1090._
[Sidenote: Temptations to the invasion of Normandy.]
[Sidenote: Interest of those who held land in both countries.]
[Sidenote: Provocation given by Robert.]
[Sidenote: State of Normandy.]
[Sidenote: His invasion likely to be largely welcome.]
That the thought of an invasion of his elder brother’s duchy should
present itself to the mind of William Rufus was not very wonderful.
The fact that it was his elder brother’s duchy might perhaps be of
itself enough to suggest the thought. The dutiful son of his father,
whom alone his father had called to rule of his own free will, might
feel himself in some sort defrauded, if any part of his father’s
dominions was held by a brother whose only claim was the accident of
his elder birth, and whose personal unfitness for the rule of men his
father had emphatically set forth. Indeed, without seeking for any
special motive at all, mere ambition, mere love of enterprise, might
be motive enough to lead a prince like Rufus to a campaign beyond the
sea, a campaign which might make him master of the native dominion of
his father, the land of his own birth. And such schemes would be
supported on grounds of reasonable policy by a large part of the
Norman possessors of the soil of England. Holding, many of them, lands
on both sides of the sea, it was their interest that the same prince
should reign on both sides of the sea, and that they themselves should
not be left open to the dangers of a divided allegiance. They had
failed to carry out this purpose by putting Robert in possession of
England; they might now carry it out by putting William in possession
of Normandy. And the attempt might even be made with some show of
justice. The help which Robert had given to the rebellion against
Rufus might, in the eyes of Rufus, or of a much more scrupulous prince
than Rufus, have been held to justify reprisals. And to a prince
seeking occasions or excuses for an invasion of Normandy the actual
condition of that duchy might seem directly to invite the coming of an
invader. The invader might almost comfort himself with the belief that
his invasion was a charitable work. Any kind of rule, almost any kind
of tyranny, might seem an improvement on the state of things which was
now rife through the whole length and breadth of the Norman land.
William Rufus might reasonably think that no small part of the
inhabitants of Normandy would welcome invasion from an invader of
their own blood, the son of their greatest ruler. And the event showed
that he was by no means mistaken in so thinking.
[Sidenote: The Conqueror foretells the character of Robert’s reign.]
[Sidenote: Utter anarchy of the duchy.]
[Sidenote: Character of Robert.]
[Sidenote: His weak good-nature.]
[Sidenote: Revival of brigandage and private war.]
[Sidenote: Lack of “justice.”]
No words of man were ever more truly spoken than the words in which
William the Great, constrained, as he deemed himself, to leave
Normandy in the hands of Robert, was believed to have foretold the
fate of the land which should be under his rule. Robert was, so his
father is made to call him, proud and foolish, doomed to misfortune;
the land would be wretched where he was master.[518] The Conqueror was
a true prophet; when Robert stepped into his father’s place, the work
of the fifty years’ rule of his father was undone in a moment.
Normandy at once fell back into the state of anarchy from which
William had saved it, the state into which it fell when the elder
Robert set forth for Jerusalem.[519] Once more every man did what was
right in his own eyes. And the Duke did nothing to hinder them. Again
we are brought to that standard of the duties of a sovereign of which
we have heard so often, that standard which was reached by the
Conqueror and by his younger son, but which neither Robert in this
generation nor Stephen in the next strove to reach. Robert, it must
always be noticed, is never charged with cruelty or oppression of any
kind in his own person. His fault was exactly of the opposite kind. He
was so mild and good-natured, so ready to listen to every suppliant,
to give to every petitioner, to show mercy to every offender, that he
utterly neglected the discharge of the first duty of his office, that
which the men of his time called doing justice.[520] William the Great
had done justice and made peace. The smaller brood of thieves and
murderers had been brought to feel the avenging arm of the law.
Thieves and murderers on a greater scale, the unruly nobles of the
duchy, had been forced to keep back their hands from that form of
brigandage which they dignified with the name of private war. Under
Robert both classes of offenders found full scope for their energies.
He did nothing to restrain either. He neither made peace nor did
justice. Brave, liberal, ready of speech, ready of wit and keen of
sight in supporting the cause of another, Robert undoubtedly could be.
But stronger qualities were needed, and those qualities Robert had
not. Sunk in sloth and dissipation, no man heeded him; the land was
without a ruler. Forgetful alike of injuries and of benefits, Robert,
from the first moment of his reign, tamely endured the most flagrant
outrages to the ducal authority, without doing anything to hinder or
to avenge.[521]
[Sidenote: Spread of vice and evil fashions.]
[Sidenote: Weakness of the spiritual power.]
In other respects also Normandy suddenly changed from what it had been
under the great King-duke. William the Great, strict to austerity in
his private life, careful in the observance of all religious duties, a
zealous supporter of ecclesiastical discipline, had made his duchy
into a kind of paradise in ecclesiastical eyes. All this was now swept
away. The same flood of foolish and vicious fashions which overspread
England overspread Normandy also. There is nothing to convict Robert
personally of the special vices of Rufus; but the life of the
unmarried Duke was very unlike the life of his father. And vice of the
grossest kind, the vices of Rufus himself, stalked forth into broad
daylight, unabashed and unpunished.[522] The ecclesiastical power, no
longer supported by the secular arm, was too weak to restrain or to
chastise.[523] As every form of violence, so every form of
licentiousness, had its full swing in the Normandy of Robert Curthose.
[Sidenote: Building of castles.]
[Sidenote: The Conqueror keeps garrisons in the castles of the
nobles.]
[Sidenote: Instances at Evreux, and in the Bellême castles.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Bellême drives out the ducal forces.]
[Sidenote: The like done by the Count of Evreux and others.]
[Sidenote: Robert’s lavish grants.]
[Sidenote: Ivry.]
[Sidenote: Brionne.]
But, above all, this time stood out, like all times of anarchy, as a
time of building and strengthening of castles. One of the means by
which the Conqueror had maintained the peace of the land had been by
keeping garrisons of his own in the castles of such of his nobles as
were likely to be dangerous. He had followed this wise policy with the
castle of Evreux, the stronghold of his kinsman Count William. He had
followed it with the crowd of castles which, as the inheritance of his
mother, had passed to Robert of Bellême, the man who is to be the
leading villain of our present drama. But the precautions of the
Conqueror lasted no longer than his life; his successor might be
defied without danger. At the moment of the King’s death, Robert of
Bellême was on his way to the court to “speak with the King,” in the
ordinary phrase,[524] on some affairs of his own. He had reached
Brionne when he heard of the Conqueror’s death. Instead of going on to
offer his homage or support to the new Duke, he turned back, gathered
his own followers, marched on Alençon, and by a sudden attack drove
the ducal garrison out of the fortress by the Sarthe, the southern
bulwark of Normandy. He did the same with better right on his own hill
of Bellême, which was not strictly Norman soil. He did so with all his
other castles, and with as many of the castles of his neighbours as he
could.[525] The lord of Bellême in short established himself as a
prince who might well bear himself as independent of the lord of
Rouen. Count William of Evreux followed his example; the late King’s
garrison was driven out of the fortress which had arisen within the
walls of the Roman Mediolanum. William of Breteuil, Ralph of Toesny or
of Conches, the nobles of Normandy in general wherever they had the
power, all did the like.[526] They drove out the garrisons; they
strengthened the old fortresses; they raised new ones, adulterine
castles in the phrase of the day, built without the Duke’s licence and
placed beyond his control. Those who were strong enough seized on the
castles of weaker neighbours. The land was again filled with these
robbers’ nests, within whose walls and circuit law was powerless,
lairs, as men said, of grievous wolves, who entered in and spared not
the flock.[527] Some nobles indeed had the decency to go through the
form of asking the Duke for gifts which they knew that he would not
have strength of mind to refuse them. One of them was William of
Breteuil, the son of the famous Earl William of Hereford, the brother
of the rebel Roger,[528] and once a sharer in Robert’s rebellion
against his father. He asked and received the famous tower of Ivry,
the tower of Albereda, the now vanished stronghold which once looked
down on the plain where Henry of Navarre was in after ages to smite
down the forces of the League. This gift involved a wrong to the old
Roger of Beaumont, who had held that great fortress by the Conqueror’s
commission. Roger was accordingly recompensed by a grant of Brionne,
the island stronghold in the heart of Normandy, which had played such
a part in the early wars of the Conqueror.[529] Thus places specially
connected with the memory of the great William, places like Alençon
and Brionne, which had cost him no small pains to win or to recover,
passed away from his son without a thought. Robert gave to every man
everything that he asked for, to the impoverishment of himself and to
the strengthening of every other man against him.[530]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: The Ætheling Henry.]
[Sidenote: He claims his mother’s lands.]
[Sidenote: Lavish waste of Robert.]
[Sidenote: He asks a loan of Henry.]
[Sidenote: Henry buys the Côtentin and Avranchin.]
[Sidenote: Henry’s firm rule.]
In one corner only of the duchy was there a better state of things to
be seen. The Ætheling Henry had received from his dying father a
bequest in money, but no share in his territorial dominions.[531] He
claimed however the English lands which had been held by his mother
Matilda, but which the late King had kept in his own hands after her
death.[532] This claim had not as yet been made good, and Henry’s
possessions still consisted only of his five thousand pounds in money.
With part of this he was presently to make a splendid investment.
While Henry had money but no lands, Robert had wide domains, but his
extravagance soon left him without money. The Norman portion of the
Conqueror’s hoard was presently scattered broadcast among his
mercenary soldiers and other followers. Of these he kept a vast
number; men flocked eagerly to a prince who was so ready to give; but
before long he was without the means of giving or paying any more. He
asked Henry for a gift or a loan. The scholar-prince was wary, and
refused to throw his money away into the bottomless pit of Robert’s
extravagance.[533] The Duke then proposed to sell him some part of his
dominions. At this proposal Henry caught gladly, and a bargain was
struck. For a payment of three thousand pounds, Henry became master of
a noble principality in the western part of the Norman duchy. The
conquest of William Longsword,[534] the colony of Harold
Blaatand,[535] the whole land from the fortress of Saint James to the
haven of Cherbourg, the land of Coutances and Avranches, the castle
and abbey of Saint Saviour,[536] and the house that was castle and
abbey in one, the house of Saint Michael in Peril of the Sea――all this
became the dominion of Henry, now known as Count of the Côtentin. With
these territories he received the superiority over a formidable
vassal; he became lord over the Norman possessions of Earl Hugh of
Chester.[537] Thus the English-born son of the Norman Conqueror held
for his first dominion no contemptible portion of his father’s duchy,
as ruler of the Danish land which in earlier days had beaten back an
English invasion.[538] In that land, under the rule of him who was one
day to be called the Lion of Justice, there was a nearer approach to
peace and order than could be found in other parts of Normandy. The
young Count governed his county well and firmly; no such doings went
on in the lands of Coutances and Avranches as went on in the rest of
the duchy under the no-rule of Duke Robert.[539]
[Sidenote: Henry goes to England. Summer, 1088.]
[Sidenote: William promises him the lands of Matilda.]
[Sidenote: He seizes them again.]
[Sidenote: They are granted to Robert Fitz-hamon.]
Henry, Ætheling on one side of the sea and now Count on the other
side,[540] next thought of crossing the channel to seek for those
estates in his native land which he claimed in right of his
mother.[541] These lands, in Cornwall, Buckinghamshire, and specially
in Gloucestershire, had mostly formed a part of the forfeited
possessions of Brihtric, the man whose name legend has so strangely
connected with that of Matilda.[542] Henry must have reached England
about the time when the rebellion had been put down, and when the new
King might be expected to be in a mood inclined either to justice or
to generosity. William received his brother graciously, and granted,
promised, or pretended to grant, the restitution of the lands of their
mother.[543] Henry, already a ruler on one side of the sea, a sharer
in his father’s inheritance, went back to his peninsula in a character
which was yet newer to him, that of a sharer in his father’s conquest,
a great land-owner on the other side of the sea. But his luck, which
was to shine forth so brightly in after times, forsook him for the
present. If Henry ever came into actual possession of his English
estates, his tenure of them was short. At some time which is not
distinctly marked, the lands which had been Matilda’s were again
seized by William. They were granted to one of the rising men of the
time, one of the few who had been faithful to the King in the late
times of trouble, to Robert Fitz-hamon, perhaps already the terror of
the southern Cymry. Thus the old possessions of Brihtric passed into
the hands of the lord of the castle of Cardiff, the founder of the
minster of Tewkesbury.[544] In the next generation the policy of Henry
was to win them back, if not for himself, yet for his son.[545]
[Sidenote: Influence of Odo with Robert.]
[Sidenote: Autumn, 1088.]
[Sidenote: Henry brings back Robert of Bellême.]
[Sidenote: They are seized and imprisoned.]
[Sidenote: Earl Roger makes war on the Duke.]
[Sidenote: His fortresses.]
If the Count of Coutances failed of his objects in England, a worse
fate awaited him for a season on his return to Normandy. He had
enemies at the court of Duke Robert; first of all, it would seem, his
uncle Odo, lately Earl of Kent and still Bishop of Bayeux. He was now
driven from his earldom to his bishopric, like a dragon, we are told,
with fiery wings cast down to the earth.[546] The tyrant of Bayeux,
the worst of prelates――such are the names under which Odo now appears
in the pages of our chief guide[547]――had again become Robert’s chief
counsellor. His counsel seems to have taken the form of stirring up
the Duke’s mind to abiding wrath against his brother of England, and
against all who were, or were held to be, his partisans.[548] When
Henry left England to come back to Normandy, he brought with him a
dangerous companion in the person of Robert of Bellême. That rebel of
a few months back was now thoroughly reconciled to Rufus. Duke Robert
was even made to believe that his namesake of Bellême, so lately his
zealous supporter, was joined with Henry by a mutual oath to support
the interests of the King of the English at the expense of the Duke of
the Normans.[549] The measures of Robert or of Odo were speedily
taken; the coasts were watched; the voyagers were seized before they
could disembark from their ships.[550] They were put in fetters, and
presently consigned to prisons in the keeping of the Bishop. They had
not even the comfort of companionship in bonds. While the Ætheling,
Count of the Côtentin, was kept in Odo’s episcopal city, the place of
imprisonment for the son of the Earl of Shrewsbury was the fortress of
Neuilly, in the most distant part of Odo’s diocese, near the frontier
stream of Vire which parts the Bessin from Henry’s own peninsula. The
less illustrious captive was the first to find a champion. Earl Roger,
by the licence of the King, left England, crossed into Normandy,
entered into open war with the Duke on behalf of his son, and
garrisoned all his own castles and those of his son against him.
Vassal of three lords, the lord of Montgomery and Shrewsbury, the
father of the lord of Bellême, might almost rank as their peer. As a
prince rather than as a mere baron, Earl Roger took to arms. The
border-fortresses on the frontier ground of Normandy, Maine, and
Perche were all put into a state of defence.[551] Alençon, by the
border stream, was again, as in the days when its burghers mocked the
Tanner’s grandson,[552] garrisoned against his son and successor.
Bellême itself, the cradle of the house of Talvas――the Rock of Mabel,
bearing the name of her who had united the houses of Talvas
and Montgomery, and whose blood had been the price of its
possession――Saint-Cenery on its peninsula by the Sarthe, another of
the spoils of Mabel’s bloody policy――all these border strongholds,
together with a crowd of others lying more distinctly within the
Norman dominions, had again become hostile spots where the Duke of the
Normans was defied.
[Sidenote: Odo’s exhortation to Robert.]
[Sidenote: Rivalry of Normandy and France.]
[Sidenote: The line of Talvas to be rooted out.]
The episcopal gaoler of Bayeux, in his character of chief counsellor
of Duke Robert, is described as keeping his feeble nephew somewhat in
awe. But his counsels, it is added, were sometimes followed, sometimes
despised.[553] Now that all Normandy was in a blaze of civil war, Odo
came to Rouen, and had an audience of the Duke, seemingly in an
assembly of his nobles.[554] If our guide is to be trusted, Robert,
who had no love for hearing sermons even from the lips of his father,
was now condemned to hear a sermon of no small length from the perhaps
even readier lips of his uncle. Odo gave Robert a lecture on the good
government of his duchy, on the duty of defending the oppressed and
putting down their oppressors. A long list of princes are held up as
his examples, the familiar heroes of Persia, Macedonia, Carthage, and
Rome, among whom, one hardly sees why, Septimius Severus takes his
place along with the first Cæsar. On the same list too come the
princes of his own house, the princes whom the warlike French had ever
feared, winding up with the name of his own father, greatest of them
all.[555] In all this we hear the monk of Saint Evroul rather than the
Bishop of Bayeux; but any voice is worth hearing which impresses on us
a clearer understanding of the abiding jealousy between Normandy and
France. But we may surely hear Odo himself in the practical advice
that follows. Now is the time to root out the whole accursed stock of
Talvas from the Norman duchy. They were an evil generation from the
beginning, not one of whom ever died the death of other men.[556] It
is as the son of Mabel, not as the son of Roger, that Robert of
Bellême comes in for this frightful inheritance, and Odo could not
foresee how pious an end the Earl of Shrewsbury was to make in a few
years.[557] He reminded the Duke that a crowd of castles, which had
been ducal possessions as long as his father lived, had been seized on
his father’s death by Robert of Bellême, and their ducal garrisons
driven out.[558] It was the Duke’s duty, as the ruler of the land, as
a faithful son of Holy Church, to put an end to the tyranny of this
usurper, and to give to all his dominions the blessing of lawful
government at the hand of their lawful prince.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Affairs of Maine.]
[Sidenote: Helias and Hildebert.]
[Sidenote: History of Maine under the Conqueror.]
[Sidenote: 1063.]
[Sidenote: 1073.]
[Sidenote: 1083.]
[Sidenote: 1086.]
[Sidenote: Dissatisfaction in Maine.]
[Sidenote: Relations with Fulk of Anjou.]
[Sidenote: Robert’s homage to Fulk.]
But the overthrow of the house of Talvas was not the only work to
which Odo stirred up his nephew. There was another enterprise to be
undertaken before the great lord of the Cenomannian border could be
safely attacked. These early days of Robert lead us on at once to that
side of the continental wars and continental policy of Rufus which
seems to have drawn to itself the smallest amount of English interest
at the time,[559] but which is that on which we are now led to look
with a deeper interest than any other. Before Robert could safely
attack Bellême, he must make sure of Le Mans and of all Maine. Every
mention of that noble city, of its counts and its bishops, its
renowned church, and its stout-hearted citizens, has a charm which is
shared by no other spot between the Loire and the Channel. And at no
stage of its history did the Cenomannian state stand forth with
greater brilliancy than in the last days of its independent being,
when Le Mans had Helias to its count and Hildebert to its bishop.
Those days are still parted from us by a few years; but the advice
given by Odo to Robert brings us to the beginning of the chain of
events which leads straight to them. The historian of William Rufus
must now begin to look forward to the days when Rufus, like his
father, tried his strength against the valiant men of the Cenomannian
land and city, and tried it at a time when land and city could put
forth their full strength back again under a leader worthy of them.
But as yet the land of Maine has neither to deal with so mighty a foe
nor to rejoice in the guardianship of so worthy a champion. In the
stage of the tale which we have now reached, Rufus plays no part at
all, and Helias plays only a secondary part. The general story of Le
Mans and Maine has been elsewhere carried down to the last mention of
them in the days of the Conqueror.[560] It has been told how the land
passed under William’s power in the days before he crossed the sea to
win England[561]――how the city and land had revolted against the
Norman――how, after trying the rule of a foreign branch of their own
princely house, its people had risen as the first free commonwealth
north of the Loire――how they had been again brought into William’s
hand, and that largely by the help of his English warriors[562]――and
how, after the final submission of the city, isolated spots of the
Cenomannian land had again risen against the Norman power. The last
act of this earlier drama was when a single Cenomannian fortress
successfully withstood the whole strength of Normandy and
England.[563] We have seen how Hubert of Beaumont beheld the Conqueror
baffled before his hill fortress of Sainte-Susanne, the shattered keep
which still stands, sharing with Dol in the Breton land the honour of
being the two spots from which William had to turn away, conqueror no
longer.[564] But, if Hubert had beaten back William from his castle,
he had found it expedient to return to his allegiance; and, at the
death of the Conqueror, Maine seems to have been as thoroughly under
William’s power as Normandy and England. Things changed as soon as the
great King had passed away. The land and city which had striven so
often against the Conqueror himself were not likely to sit down
quietly under the feeble rule of Robert. And, besides the standing
dislike of the people of Maine to Norman rule, there was a neighbour
who was likely to be stirred up by his own ambition to meddle in the
affairs of Maine, and to whom the actual provisions of treaties gave
at least a colourable claim to do so. By the terms of the peace of
Blanchelande, the new Duke of the Normans had become the man of Count
Fulk of Anjou for the county of Maine.[565] It is true that the homage
had been of the most formal kind. There had been no reservation of
authority on the part of the superior lord, nor, as far as we can see,
was any service of any kind imposed on the fief, if fief it is to be
called. The homage might almost seem to have been a purely personal
act, a homage expressing thankfulness for the surrender of all Angevin
rights over Maine, rather than an acknowledgement of Angevin
superiority over the land and city. Still Robert, as Count of Maine,
had, in some way or other, become Count Fulk’s man, and Count Fulk
had, in some way or other, become Robert’s lord. A relation was thus
established between them of which the _Rechin_ was sure to take
advantage, whenever the time came.
[Sidenote: Robert Count of Maine.]
[Sidenote: State of things in Maine.]
[Sidenote: Howel.]
[Sidenote: Geoffrey of Mayenne.]
[Sidenote: Helias.]
[Sidenote: His descent and position.]
[Sidenote: Story of Bishop Howel’s appointment.]
[Sidenote: Samson recommends him for the see.]
[Sidenote: Temporal relations of the bishopric of Le Mans.]
[Sidenote: Howel consecrated at Rouen. April 21, 1085.]
Robert, on his father’s death, had taken his title of Prince of the
Cenomannians as well as that of Duke of the Normans,[566] and his
authority seems to have been acknowledged at Le Mans no less than at
Rouen. We may suspect that there was no very deep felt loyalty in the
minds of a people whose rebellious tendencies had deeply impressed the
mind of William the Great. He is said――though we may guess that the
etymology comes rather from the reporter than from the speaker――to
have derived the name of their land and city from their currish
madness.[567] But there was as yet no open resistance. Of the three
chief men in Church and State, Bishop Howel was an active supporter of
the Norman connexion, while Geoffrey of Mayenne and Helias of La
Flèche were at least not ready openly to throw it off. Geoffrey, who
had fought against the Conqueror twenty-five years before,[568] who
had betrayed the young commonwealth of Le Mans fifteen years
before,[569] must have been now advanced in life; but we shall still
hear of him for some years to come. Helias, the chief hero of later
wars, was of a younger generation, and now appears for the first time.
He was, it will be remembered, the son of John of La Flèche and of
Paula the youngest sister of the last Count Herbert.[570] He was
therefore, before any other man in the land, the representative of
Cenomannian independence, as distinguished both from Norman rule and
from Angevin superiority. But his father had, in the Conqueror’s
second Cenomannian war, remained faithful to the Norman, alike against
commonwealth, Lombard, and Angevin.[571] His son for the present
followed the same course. Bishop Howel was in any case a zealous
Norman partisan; according to one story he was a special nominee of
the Conqueror, appointed for the express purpose of helping to keep
the people of Maine in order. According to the local historian, he had
been appointed Dean of Saint Julian’s by his predecessor Arnold, and
was, on Arnold’s death, freely and unanimously chosen to the
bishopric.[572] In Normandy it was believed that King William, on
Arnold’s death, offered the bishopric to one of his own clerks, Samson
of Bayeux, who declined the offer on the ground that a bishop,
according to apostolic rule, ought to be blameless, while he himself
was a grievous sinner in many ways. The King said that Samson must
either take the bishopric himself or find some fit person in his
stead. Samson made his nomination at once. There was in the King’s
chapel a clerk, poor, but of noble birth and of virtuous life, Howel
by name, and, as his name implied, of Breton birth or descent.[573] He
was the man to be bishop of Le Mans. Howel was at once sent for. He
came, not knowing to what end he was called. Young in years, slight
and mean in figure, he had not the stately presence with which Walcher
of Durham had once impressed the mind of Eadgyth, perhaps of William
himself.[574] But Howel was not called upon, like Walcher, to be a
goodly martyr, but only a confessor on a small scale. William was at
first tempted to despise the unconscious candidate for the chair of
Saint Julian. But Samson, who, sinner as he may have been, seems not
to have been a bad preacher or reasoner, warned the King that God
looked not at the outward appearance, but at the heart. William
examined further into Howel’s life and conversation, and presently
gave him the temporal investiture of the bishopric.[575] At the same
time a _congé d’élire_ went to Le Mans, which led to Howel’s “pure and
simple” election by the Chapter.[576] A point both of canon and of
feudal law turned up. The old dispute between the Norman Duke and the
Angevin Count about the advowson of the bishopric had never been
settled; the Peace of Blanchelande was silent on that point. Legally
there can be no doubt that the true temporal superior of the Bishop of
Le Mans was neither Fulk nor William, but their common, if forgotten,
lord King Philip.[577] But, whoever might be his temporal lord, no one
doubted that the Bishop of Le Mans was a suffragan, and the suffragan
highest in rank, of the Archbishop of Tours.[578] Yet, as things
stood, as Tours was in the dominions of Fulk, a subject of William who
went to that metropolis for consecration might have been called on to
enter into some engagement inconsistent with his Norman loyalty. By a
commission therefore from Archbishop Ralph of Tours, Howel received
consecration at Rouen from the Primate of the Normans, William the
Good Soul.[579]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Howel’s Norman loyalty.]
[Sidenote: Robert before Le Mans.]
[Sidenote: General submission of the county.]
[Sidenote: Ballon holds out.]
This story is worth telling, as it is thoroughly characteristic of the
Conqueror; but there is this difficulty about it, that we can hardly
understand either how the historian of the Bishops of Le Mans could
fail to know the succession of the deans of his own church, or else
how the head of the chapter of Saint Julian’s could be lurking as a
poor clerk in King William’s chapel. Be this as it may, there is
thorough agreement as to the episcopal virtues of Howel, as to his
zeal in continuing the works in the church of Saint Julian,[580] and
as to his unwavering loyalty to the Norman house. And, builder and
adorner of the sanctuary as he was, he did not scruple to rob the
altars of the saints of their gold and silver to feed the poor in the
day of hunger.[581] His loyalty to Robert seems to have carried with
it, for a time at least, the submission of the city. The Duke drew
near at the head of his army. Bishop Odo was again in harness as one
of his nephew’s chief captains. With him came not a few of the lords
who had seized castles in the Duke’s despite, but who were
nevertheless ready to follow his banner. There was the elder Ralph of
Toesny, he who had taken the strange message to King Henry after the
day of Mortemer, and who had refused to bear the banner of Normandy on
the day of Senlac.[582] With him was his nephew, William of Breteuil,
the elder and more lucky of the two sons of William Fitz-Osbern. He
had been one of Robert’s companions in his day of rebellion, along
with the younger Ralph of Toesny and with Robert of Bellême, now their
enemy.[583] The host entered Le Mans without resistance, and was
received, we are told, with joy by clergy and citizens alike.[584]
Messages were sent forth to summon the chief men of the county to come
and do their duty to their new lord. Helias came; so did Geoffrey of
Mayenne. When two such leaders submitted, others naturally followed
their example. All the chief men of Maine, it would seem, became the
liegemen of Duke Robert. One obstinate rebel alone, Pagan or Payne of
Montdoubleau, defended with his followers the castle of Ballon against
the new prince.[585]
[Sidenote: The castle of Ballon.]
[Sidenote: Siege of Ballon.]
[Sidenote: August-September, 1088.]
[Sidenote: The castle surrenders.]
The fortress which still held out, one whose name we shall again meet
with more than once in the immediate story of the Red King, was a
stronghold indeed. About twelve miles north of Le Mans a line of high
ground ends to the north in a steep bluff rising above the Cenomannian
Orne, the lesser stream of that name which mingles its waters with the
Sarthe. The river is not the same prominent feature in the landscape
which the Sarthe itself is at Le Mans and at some of the other towns
and castles which it washes; it does not in the same way flow directly
at the foot of the hill. But it comes fully near enough to place
Ballon in the long list of peninsular strongholds. The hill forms a
prominent feature in the surrounding landscape; and the view from the
height itself, over the wooded plains and gentle hills of Maine, is
wide indeed. He who held Ballon against the lord of Normandy, the new
lord of Le Mans, might feel how isolated his hillfort stood in the
midst of his enemies. To the south Le Mans is seen on its promontory;
and, if the mighty pile of Saint Julian’s had not yet reached its
present height, yet the twin towers of Howel, the royal tower by their
side, the abbey of Saint Vincent then rising above all, may well have
caught the eye even more readily than it is caught by the somewhat
shapeless mass of the cathedral church in its present state. To the
north and north-west the eye stretches over lands which in any normal
state of things would have been the lands of enemies, the lands of the
houses of Montgomery and Bellême. But at the moment of Robert’s siege
the defenders of Ballon must have looked to them as friendly spots,
joined in common warfare against the Norman Duke. To the north the eye
can reach beyond the Norman border at now rebellious Alençon, to the
_butte_ of Chaumont, the isolated hill which looks down upon the Rock
of Mabel. To the north-east the horizon skirts the land, at other
times the most dangerous of all, but which might now be deemed the
most helpful, the native home of the fierce house of Talvas. But, even
if Ballon had been begirt on all sides by foes, its defenders might
well venture to hope that they could defy them all. The hill had
clearly been a stronghold even from præhistoric times. The neck of the
promontory is cut off by a vast ditch, which may have fenced in a
Cenomannian fortress in days before Cæsar came. This ditch takes in
the little town of Ballon with its church. A second ditch surrounds
the castle itself, and is carried fully round it on every side. The
castle of Ballon therefore does not, like so many of its fellows,
strictly overhang the stream or the low ground at its foot. At no
point does it, like many other fortresses in the same land, mingle its
masonry with the native rock. Ballon is more like Arques[586] on a
smaller scale than like any of the strictly river fortresses. Within
the ditch, the wall of the castle remains, a gateway, a tower, a house
of delicate detail; but every architectural feature at Ballon is later
than the days of Rufus; the greater part of the present castle belongs
to the latest days of mediæval art. This stronghold, to be fought for
over and over again in the course of our story, now underwent the
earliest of its sieges which concerns us. It held out stoutly for some
time during the months of August and September. The loss on both sides
was great. At last the besieged surrendered, and were admitted to the
Duke’s grace.[587] Robert was for a moment the undisputed lord of all
Maine.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Further schemes of Odo.]
[Sidenote: Robert attacks Saint Cenery.]
[Sidenote: Description and history of the fortress.]
[Sidenote: Monastery of Saint Cenery.]
[Sidenote: The monks flee to Château-Thierry.]
[Sidenote: The castle founded by Geoffrey of Mayenne for William of
Geroy.]
[Sidenote: History of the descendants of Geroy.]
[Sidenote: Roche-Mabille.]
[Sidenote: Saint Cenery seized by Mabel.]
The first part of Bishop Odo’s counsel was thus successfully carried
out. But the submission of Maine was in Odo’s scheme only a means to
the thorough rooting out of the house of Bellême. And Robert found
himself in such sure possession of Le Mans and Maine that he could
call on the warriors of city and county to follow him in carrying out
the second part of the Bishop’s scheme. The first point for attack
among the fortresses held on behalf of Earl Roger or his captive son
was the castle of Saint Cenery. This was a border fortress of Normandy
and Maine, one which could boast of a long and stirring history, and
its small remains still occupy a site worthy of the tale which they
have to tell. Just within the Norman border, some miles west of the
town and castle of Alençon, not far from the junction of the lesser
stream of Sarthon with the boundary river, a long narrow peninsula is
formed by the windings of the Sarthe. It forms an advanced post of
Normandy thrust forward with the Cenomannian land on three sides of
it. The greater part of the peninsula consists of a steep and rocky
hill,[588] which, as it draws near to its point, is washed by the
stream on either side, though nearer to the isthmus the height rises
immediately above alluvial meadows between its base and the river. The
site was a tempting one for the foundation of a castle, in days when,
though there might be hostile ground on three sides, yet no bow-shot
or catapult from any hostile point could reach the highest part of the
hill. Yet, as the name of the place is ecclesiastical, so its earliest
memories are ecclesiastical, and its occupation as a fortress was, in
the days of our story, a thing of yesterday. Cenericus or Cenery, a
saint of the seventh century, gave the place its name. A monastery
arose, where a hundred and forty monks prayed around the tomb of their
patron. His memory is still cherished on his own ground. A church
contemporary with our story, a church of the eleventh century crowned
by a tower of the twelfth, rises boldly above the swift stream which
flows below the three apses of its eastern end. Within, the art of a
later but still early age has adorned its walls with the forms of a
series of holy persons, among whom the sainted hero of the spot holds
a chief place.[589] But if the name of Saint Cenery first suggests the
ecclesiastical history of the place, its surname[590] marks a chief
feature in its secular history. The place is still Saint
Cenery-_le-Gerey_. That is, it keeps the name of the famous house of
Geroy, the name so dear to the heart of the monk of Saint Evroul.[591]
For the monastery of Saint Cenery was but short-lived. When the wiking
Hasting was laying waste the land, the monks of Saint Cenery fled away
with the body of their patron, like that of Saint Cuthberht in our own
land, to the safer resting-place of Château-Thierry in the land of
Soissons.[592] As things now stand, the peninsula of Saint Cenery,
with its church and the site of its castle, might suggest, as a lesser
object suggests, a greater, the grouping of abbey and castle on that
more renowned peninsula where the relics of Saint Cuthberht at last
found shelter. The forsaken monastery was never restored. The holy
place lost its holiness; over the tombs of the ancient monks arose a
den of thieves, a special fortress of crime.[593] In other words,
after a century and a half of desolation, a castle arose on the
tempting site which was supplied by the neck of the peninsula.[594]
Fragments of its masonry may still be seen, and its precinct seems to
have taken in the church and the whole peninsula, though in the
greater part of its circuit no defence was needed beyond the steep and
scarped sides of the rocky hill itself. The castle was the work of a
man whose name has been familiar to us for thirty years, a man who was
still living, and who was actually in the host before the fortress of
his own rearing. Geoffrey of Mayenne was closely connected, as kinsman
and as lord, with William the son of Geroy. When Geoffrey fell into
the hands of William Talvas, the faithful vassal ransomed his lord by
the sacrifice of his own castle of Montacute, which stood just beyond
the Sarthon within the borders of Maine. To repair this loss of his
friend, no doubt also to repay the invasion of Cenomannian soil by a
like invasion of Norman soil, and to put some check in the teeth of
the house of Bellême, Geoffrey built the castle of Saint Cenery on the
left bank of the Sarthe, and gave it as a gift of thankfulness to the
son of Geroy.[595] But the inhabitants of the new stronghold, in their
dangerous border position, never knew peace or good luck, but were
visited with every kind of evil.[596] The sons of the pious and
virtuous Geroy yielded to the influence of the spot; they fell into
crime and rebellion, and were punished by banishments and strange
deaths. The second lord of Saint Cenery, Robert the brother of
William, had rebelled against the Conqueror; he had held his fortress
against him, and he had died in a mysterious way of a poisoned
apple.[597] His son and successor Arnold found how dangerous was the
greed and hate of a powerful and unscrupulous neighbour. Nearly north
from Saint Cenery, at much the same distance as Alençon is to the
east, not far from the foot of the hill of Chaumont which makes so
marked a feature in the whole surrounding landscape, on a peninsula
formed by a bend of the Sarthon, just within the borders of Maine as
Saint Cenery is just within the borders of Normandy, rises the
solitary rock which once had been known as Jaugy. There we still trace
the ruins of the castle which bore the name of the cruel Countess, the
despoiler of the house of Jaugy, the castle of the Rock of Mabel.[598]
To the possessor of the Rock of Mabel the mightier rock of Saint
Cenery, forming part of the same natural line of defence, could not
fail to be an object of covetousness. Arnold died of poison, by the
practice of the ruthless wife of Roger of Montgomery. Saint Cenery
became part of the possessions of the fierce line of Bellême; and,
under its present master, it doubtless deserved the strongest of the
names bestowed on it by the monk of Saint Evroul.
[Sidenote: Saint Cenery held by Robert Carrel.]
[Sidenote: The siege.]
[Sidenote: Surrender of Saint Cenery.]
[Sidenote: Robert Carrel blinded.]
[Sidenote: Other mutilations.]
[Sidenote: Question of the military tribunal.]
At this moment Saint Cenery was held on behalf of Robert of Bellême by
a specially valiant captain named Robert Carrel.[599] We have no
details of the siege. We are told nothing of the positions occupied by
the besiegers, or how they became masters of the seemingly impregnable
height. We are told that the resistance was long and fierce; but at
last the castle was taken; and, as failure of provisions is spoken of
as the cause, we may guess that the garrison was driven to surrender.
If so, the surrender must have been to the Duke’s mercy, and the mercy
of Duke Robert or of his counsellors was cruel. The Duke, we are told,
in his wrath, ordered the eyes of Robert Carrel to be put out. The
personal act of the Duke in the case of the rebel leader seems to be
contrasted with the sentence of a more regular tribunal of some kind,
by which mutilations of various kinds were dealt out to others of the
garrison.[600] Yet personal cruelty is so inconsistent with the
ordinary character of Robert that we are driven to suppose either that
some strong personal influence was brought to bear on the Duke’s mind,
or else that Robert Carrel had given some unpardonable offence during
the course of the siege. But it is worth while to notice the words
which seem to imply that the punishment of the other defenders of
Saint Cenery was the work of some body which at least claimed to act
in a judicial character. We can hardly look as yet for the subtlety of
a separate military jurisdiction, for what we should now call a
court-martial. That can hardly be thought of, except in the case of a
standing body of soldiers, like Cnut’s housecarls, with a constitution
and rules of their own.[601] But as in free England we have seen the
army――that is, the nation in arms――act on occasion the part of a
national assembly, so in more aristocratic Normandy the same principle
would apply in another shape. The chief men of Normandy were there,
each in command of his own followers. If Robert or his immediate
counsellors wished that the cruel punishments to be dealt out to the
revolted garrison should not be merely their own work, if they wished
the responsibility of them to be shared by a larger body, the means
were easy. There was a court of peers ready at hand, before whom they
might arraign the traitors.
[Sidenote: Claims of Robert, grandson of Geroy.]
[Sidenote: The castle granted to him.]
But if there were those within Saint Cenery who were marked for
punishment, there was one without its walls who claimed restitution. A
son of Geroy’s son Robert, bearing his father’s name, had, like others
of his family, served with credit in the wars of Apulia and Sicily. He
was now in the Duke’s army, seemingly among the warriors of Maine,
ready to play his part in winning back the castle of his father from
the son of the murderess of his uncle. Geoffrey of Mayenne and the
rest of the Cenomannian leaders asked of the Duke that the son of the
former owner of the castle, Geoffrey’s own kinsman and vassal, should
be restored to the inheritance of his father, the inheritance which
his father held in the first instance by Geoffrey’s own gift. The
warfare which was now waging was waged against the son of the woman by
whom one lord of Saint Cenery had been treacherously slain. The
triumph of right would be complete, if the banished man were restored
to his own, at the prayer of the first giver. The Duke consented;
Saint Cenery was granted afresh to the representative of the house of
Geroy; Geoffrey saw the castle of his own rearing once more in
friendly hands. The new lord strengthened the defences of his
fortress, and held it as a post to be guarded with all care against
the common enemy, the son of Mabel.[602]
[Sidenote: Surrender of Alençon,]
[Sidenote: of Bellême.]
[Sidenote: The other castles ready to surrender.]
[Sidenote: Robert disbands his army.]
Two fortresses were thus won from the revolters; and the success of
the Duke at both places, his severity at one of them, had their effect
on those who still defended other castles for Robert of Bellême.[603]
Alençon, where the great William had wrought so stern a vengeance for
the mockeries of its citizens, stood ready to receive his son without
resistance. So did Bellême itself, the fortress which gave its name to
the descendants of the line of Talvas, the centre of their power,
where their ancient chapel of Mabel’s day still crowns the elder
castle hill, standing, isolated below the town and fortress of later
date.[604] Its defenders made up their minds to submit to the summons
of the Duke, if only the Duke would come near to summon them. So did
the garrisons of all the other castles which still remained in
rebellion. Frightened at the doom of Robert Carrel and his companions,
they stood ready to surrender as soon as the Duke should come. But it
is not clear whether the Duke ever did draw near to receive the
fortresses which were ready to open their gates to him. Robert had had
enough of success, or of the exertions which were needful for success.
It would almost seem as if the siege of Saint Cenery had been as much
as he could go through, and as if he turned back at once on its
surrender. At all events he stopped just when complete victory was
within his grasp. He longed for the idle repose of his palace. His
army was disbanded; every man who followed the Duke’s banner had the
Duke’s licence to go to his own home.[605]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Robert of Bellême still in prison.]
[Sidenote: Earl Roger prays for his son’s release.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Bellême set free.]
[Sidenote: His career.]
All this while, it will be remembered, Robert of Bellême himself was
actually in bonds in the keeping of Bishop Odo. The war had been waged
rather against his father Earl Roger than against himself. But it was
wholly on Robert’s account that it had been waged. Whatever we may
think of the right or wrong of his imprisonment at the moment when it
took place, there can be no doubt that it was for the general good of
the Norman duchy that Robert of Bellême should be hindered from doing
mischief. He was the arch-rebel against his sovereign, the
arch-plunderer of his neighbours, the man who, in that fierce age, was
branded by common consent as the cruellest of the cruel. It was to
break his power, to win back the castles which he had seized, that the
hosts of Normandy and Maine had been brought together; it was for the
crime of maintaining his cause that Robert Carrel and his comrades had
undergone their cruel punishment. But the fates of the chief and of
his subaltern were widely different. Duke Robert, weary of warfare,
was even more than ever disposed to mercy, that is more than ever
disposed to gratify the biddings of a weak good-nature. Earl Roger
marked the favourable moment, when the host was disbanded, and when
the Duke had gone back to the idle pleasures of Rouen. He sent
eloquent messengers, charged with many promises in his name――promises
doubtless of good behaviour on the part of his son――and prayed for the
release of the prisoner.[606] With Duke Robert an appeal of this kind
from a man like Earl Roger went for more than all reasonable
forethought for himself and his duchy. The welfare of thousands was
sacrificed to a weak pity for one man. Robert of Bellême was set free.
His promises were of course forgotten; gratitude and loyalty were
forgotten. Till a wiser sovereign sent him in after days to a prison
from which there was no escape, he went on with his career of plunder
and torture, of utter contempt and defiance of the ducal
authority.[607] But, under such a prince as Robert, contempt and
defiance of the ducal authority was no disqualification for appearing
from time to time as a ducal counsellor.[608]
[Sidenote: Henry set free.]
[Sidenote: Henry strengthens his castles.]
[Sidenote: His partisans.]
[Sidenote: His good government.]
Robert of Bellême was thus set free, because his father had asked for
his freedom. A prince who sought to keep any kind of consistency in
his acts could hardly have kept his own brother Henry in ward one
moment after the prison doors were opened to his fellow-captive. But
it would seem that the gaol-delivery at Bayeux did not follow at once
on that at Neuilly. Henry was still kept in his prison, till, at the
general request of all the chief lords of Normandy, he was set
free.[609] He went back to his county of the Côtentin with no good
will to either of his brothers.[610] Here he strove to strengthen
himself in every way, by holding the castles of his principality, by
winning friends and hiring mercenaries. He strengthened the castles of
Coutances and Avranches, those of Cherbourg by the northern rocks and
of Gavray in the southern part of the Côtentin. Among his counsellors
and supporters were some men of note, as Richard of Redvers, and the
greater name of the native lord of Avranches, Earl Hugh of
Chester.[611] Indeed all the lords of the Côtentin stood by their
Count, save only the gloomy, and perhaps banished, Robert of Mowbray,
Earl of Northumberland. That we find the lords of two English earldoms
thus close together in a corner of Normandy shows how thoroughly the
history of the kingdom and that of the duchy form at this moment one
tale. While the Count and Ætheling was strengthened by such support,
the land of Coutances and Avranches enjoyed another moment of peace
and order, while the rest of Normandy was torn in pieces by the
quarrels of Robert of Bellême and his like.
§ 2. _The first Successes of William Rufus._ 1090.
[Sidenote: Schemes of William Rufus.]
[Sidenote: He consults the Assembly at Winchester. Easter, 1090.]
[Sidenote: His speech.]
[Sidenote: His constitutional language.]
While the duchy of Normandy had thus become one scene of anarchy under
the no-government of its nominal prince, the King of the English had
been carefully watching the revolutions of his brother’s dominions. He
now deemed that the time had come to avenge the wrongs which he deemed
that he had suffered at his brother’s hands. He must have seen that he
had not much to fear from a prince who had let slip such advantages as
Robert had held in his hands after the taking of Saint Cenery. He
watched his time; he made his preparations, and was now ready to take
the decisive step of crossing the sea himself or sending others to
cross it. But even William Rufus in all his pride and self-confidence
knew that it did not depend wholly on himself to send either native or
adopted Englishmen on such an errand. He had learned enough of English
constitutional law not to think of venturing on a foreign war without
the constitutional sanction of his kingdom. In a Gemót at Winchester,
seemingly the Easter Gemót of the third year of his reign,[612] he
laid his schemes before the assembled Witan, and obtained their
consent to a war with the Duke of the Normans. If we may trust the one
report which we have of his speech, William the Red had as good
reasons to give for an invasion of Normandy as his father had once had
to give for an invasion of England. He went forth to avenge the wrongs
which his brother had done to him, the rebellion which he had stirred
up in his kingdom. But he went also from the purest motives of piety
and humanity. The prince who had tried to deprive him of his dominions
had shown himself utterly unable to rule his own. A cry had come into
the ears of him, the Red King, to which he could not refuse to
hearken. It was the cry of the holy Church, the cry of the widow and
the orphan. All were alike oppressed by the thieves and murderers whom
the weakness of Robert allowed to do their will throughout the Norman
land. That land looked back with a sigh to the days of William the
Great, who had saved Normandy alike from foreign and from domestic
foes. It became his son, the inheritor of his name and crown, to
follow in his steps, and to do the same work again. He called on all
who had been his father’s men, on all who held fiefs of his granting
in Normandy or in England, to come forward and show their prowess for
the deliverance of the suffering duchy.[613] But it was for them to
take counsel and to decide. Let the Assembly declare its judgement on
his proposal. His purpose was, with their consent, to send over an
army to Normandy, at once to take vengeance for his own wrongs, and to
carry out the charitable work of delivering the Church and the
oppressed, and of chastising evil-doers with the sword of
justice.[614]
[Sidenote: Its witness to constitutional usage.]
This constitutional language in the mouth of William Rufus sounds
somewhat strange in our ears; the profession of high and holy purposes
sounds stranger still. There is of course no likelihood that we are
reading a genuine report of an actual speech; still the words of our
historian are not without their value. No one would have been likely
to invent those words, unless they had fairly represented the
relations which still existed between a King of the English and the
Assembly of his kingdom. The piety may all come from the brain of the
monk of Saint Evroul; but the constitutional doctrines which he has
worked into the speech cannot fail to set forth the ordinary
constitutional usage of the time. Even in the darkest hour in which
England had any settled government at all, in the reign of the worst
of all our kings, it was not the will of the King alone, not the will
of any private cabal or cabinet, but the will of the Great Council of
the nation, which, just as in the days of King Eadward,[615] decided
questions of peace and war.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: War voted by the Witan.]
[Sidenote: The King stays in England.]
[Sidenote: His policy.]
[Sidenote: His advantages in a a struggle with Robert.]
[Sidenote: Interest of the chief Normans.]
[Sidenote: Position of William and Robert.]
[Sidenote: Power of William’s wealth.]
[Sidenote: Hiring of mercenaries.]
[Sidenote: Bribes.]
[Sidenote: He conquers without leaving England.]
The Witan unanimously agreed to the King’s proposal, and applauded, so
we are told, the lofty spirit――the technical name is used――of the King
himself.[616] War was at once voted, and it might have been expected
that a brilliant campaign would at once have followed on the warlike
vote. We might have looked to see the Red King, the mirror of
chivalry, cross the sea, as his father had done on the opposite
errand, at the head of the whole force of his realm. We might have
looked to see a series of gallant feats of arms take place between the
two hostile brothers. The real story is widely different. William
Rufus did not cross the sea till a year after war had been declared,
and remarkably little fighting happened, both while he stayed in
England and after he set forth for Normandy. But we have seen that
William Rufus, as a true Norman, was, with all his chivalry, at least
as much fox as lion.[617] And a ruler of England, above all, a son of
William the Great, had many weapons at his command, one only of which
could the Duke of the Normans hope to withstand with weapons of the
like kind. Robert was in his own person as stout a man-at-arms as
Rufus, and, if the chivalry of Normandy could only be persuaded to
rally round his banner, he might, as the valiant leader of a valiant
host, withstand on equal terms any force that the island monarch could
bring against him. But courage, and, we may add, whenever he chose to
use it, real military skill, were the only weapons which Robert had at
his bidding. The armoury of the Red King contained a choice of many
others, any one of which alone might make courage and military skill
wholly useless. William, headstrong as he often showed himself, could
on occasion bide his time as well as his father, and, well as he loved
fighting, he knew that a land in such a state as Normandy was under
Robert could be won by easier means. Besides daring and generalship
equal to that of Robert, Rufus had statecraft; and he was not minded
to use even his generalship as long as his statecraft could serve his
turn. He knew, or his ready wit divined, that there were men of all
classes in Normandy who would be willing to do his main work for him
without his striking a blow, without his crossing the sea in person,
almost without a blow being struck in his behalf. He had only to
declare himself his brother’s rival, and it was the interest of most
of the chief men in Normandy to support his claims against his
brother. The very same motives which had led the Normans in England to
revolt against William on behalf of Robert would now lead the Normans
in Normandy to revolt against Robert on behalf of William. Norman
nobles and land-owners who held lands on both sides of the sea had
deemed it for their interest that one lord should rule on both sides
of the sea. They had then deemed it for their interest that that lord
should be Robert rather than William. The former doctrine still kept
all its force; on the second point they had learned something by
experience. If England and Normandy were to have one sovereign, that
sovereign must needs be William and not Robert. There was not the
faintest chance of placing Robert on the royal throne of England;
there was a very fair chance of placing William in the ducal chair of
Normandy. Simply as a ruler, as one who commanded the powers of the
state and the army, William had shown that he had it in his power to
reward and to punish. Robert had shown that it was quite beyond his
power to reward or to punish anybody. He who drew on himself the wrath
of the King was likely enough to lose his estates in England; he who
drew on himself the wrath of the Duke had no need to be fearful of
losing his estates in Normandy. And William had the means of making a
yet more direct appeal to the interests of not a few of his brother’s
subjects, in a way in which it was still more certain that his brother
would not appeal to any of his subjects. The hoard at Winchester was
still well filled. If it had been largely drawn upon, it was again
filled to the brim with treasures brought in by every kind of
unrighteous exactions. Already was the land “fordone with unlawful
gelds;”[618] but the King had the profit of them. But there was no
longer any hoard at Rouen out of which Robert could hire the choicest
troops of all lands to defend his duchy, as William could hire them to
attack it. And the wealth at William’s command might do much even
without hiring a single mercenary. The castles of Normandy were
strong; but few of them were so strong that, in the words of King
Philip――Philip of Macedon, not Philip of France――an ass laden with
gold could not find its way into them.[619] Armed at all points,
master alike of gold and steel, able to work himself and to command
the services of others alike with the head and with the hand, William
Rufus could, at least in contending with Robert, conquer when he chose
and how he chose. And for a while he chose, like the Persian king of
old, to win towns and castles without stirring from his hearth.[620]
[Illustration:
Map illustrating the NORMAN CAMPAIGN. A.D. 1091.
_For the Delegates of the Clarendon Press._ Edwᵈ. Weller]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Submission of Saint Valery.]
[Sidenote: Beginning of English action on the continent.]
The first point of the mainland which the Red King won was one which
lay beyond the strict bounds of the Norman duchy; but no spot, either
in Normandy or in England, was more closely connected with the
fortunes of his house. And it was one which had a certain fitness as
the beginning of such a campaign. The first spot of continental ground
which was added to the dominion of one who called himself King of the
English, and who at least was truly King of England, was the spot from
which his father had set forth for the conquest of England. He won it
by the means which were specially his own. “By his cunning or by his
treasures he gat him the castle at Saint Valery and the havens.”[621]
Englishmen had fought for the elder William in Maine and before
Gerberoi;[622] but that was merely to win back the lost possessions of
the Norman Duke. Now the wealth and the arms of England were used to
win castles beyond the sea for a prince whose possessions and whose
titles up to that moment were purely English. In the history of
England as a power――and the history of England as a power had no small
effect on the history of the English as a people――the taking of Saint
Valery is the beginning of a chain of events which leads on, not only
to the fight of Tinchebray and the first loss of Rouen, but to the
fight of Crecy and the fight of Chastillon, to the taking of Boulogne
and the loss of Calais.
[Sidenote: Submission of Stephen of Aumale.]
[Sidenote: Aumale strengthened as the King’s headquarters.]
[Sidenote: Submission of Count Robert of Eu and his son William;]
Saint Valery had, by the forced commendation of the still reigning
Count Guy, passed under Norman superiority;[623] but it was no part of
the true Norman land. The first fortress within the Norman duchy which
passed into the hands of Rufus was the castle of Aumale, standing just
within the Norman border, on the upper course of the river of Eu. Its
lord, the first of the great Norman nobles to submit to William and to
receive his garrison into his castle, was Stephen, son of Count Odo of
Champagne and of Adelaide, whole sister of the Conqueror,
cousin-german therefore of the two contending princes.[624] Aumale was
won, as Saint Valery had been won, by cunning or by treasure. Stephen
may simply have learned to see that it was better for him to have the
same lord at Aumale and in Holderness, or his eyes may have been yet
further enlightened by the brightness of English gold. But the Red
King had other means at his disposal, and it seems that other means
were needed, if not to win, at least to keep Aumale. The defences of
the castle were greatly strengthened at the King’s cost,[625] and it
became a centre for further operations. “Therein he set his knights,
and they did harms upon the land, in harrying and in burning.”[626]
Other castles were soon added to the Red King’s dominion. Count Robert
of Eu, whom we have heard of alike at Mortemer and in Lindesey,[627]
the father of the man whom we have more lately heard of at Berkeley,
still held the house where William the Great had received Harold as
his guest,[628] hard by the church where he had received Matilda as
his bride.[629] The Count had been enriched with lands in southern
England; he is not recorded as having joined in his son’s rebellion;
and the lord of Eu now transferred the allegiance of his Norman county
to the prince of whom he held his command on the rocks of
Hastings.[630] Aumale and Eu, two of the most important points on the
eastern border of Normandy, are thus the first places which we hear of
as receiving Rufus on the mainland. We shall hear of both names again,
but in quite another kind of tale, before the reign of Rufus is over.
[Sidenote: of Gerard of Gournay.]
[Sidenote: The church of Gournay.]
[Sidenote: Other castles of Gerard.]
[Sidenote: Submission of Earl Walter Giffard.]
[Sidenote: His castle of Longueville.]
The next Norman noble to join the cause of William was another lord of
the same frontier, who held a point of hardly less importance to the
south of Eu and Aumale. This was Gerard of Gournay, son of the warrior
of Mortemer who had gone to end his days as a monk of Bec,[631]
son-in-law of the new Earl of Surrey,[632] husband of perhaps the only
woman on Norman ground who bore the name of English Eadgyth.[633] His
castle of Gournay, from which many men and more than one place[634] in
England have drawn their name, stood on the upper course of the Epte,
close to the French border. The fortress itself has vanished; but the
minster of Saint Hildebert, where the massive work of Gerard’s day has
been partly recast in the lighter style of the next century, still
remains, with its mighty pillars, its varied and fantastic carvings,
to make Gournay a place of artistic pilgrimage. Nor is it hard to
trace the line of the ancient walls of the town, showing how the
border stream of Epte was pressed into the service of the Norman
engineers. The adhesion of the lord of Gournay seems to have been of
the highest importance to the cause of Rufus. The influence of Gerard
reached over a wide district north of his main dwelling. Along with
Gournay, he placed at the King’s disposal his fortress of La Ferté
Saint Samson, crowning a height looking over the vale of Bray, and his
other fortress of Gaillefontaine to the north-east, on another height
by the wood of its own name, overlooking the early course of the
Bethune or Dieppe, the stream which joins the eastern Varenne by the
hill of Arques.[635] Gerard too was not only ready in receiving the
King’s forces into his own castles, but zealous also in bringing over
his neighbours to follow his example.[636] Among these was the lord of
Wigmore, late the rebel of Worcester, Ralph of Mortemer.[637] Old
Walter Giffard too, now Earl of Buckingham in England, had English
interests far too precious to allow him to oppose his island
sovereign. He held the stronghold of Longueville――the north-eastern
Longueville by the Scie, the stream which, small as it is, pours its
waters independently into the Channel between Dieppe and Saint
Valery-in-Caux. There, from a bottom fenced in by hills on every side,
the village, the church where the hand of the modern destroyer has
spared only a few fragments of the days of Norman greatness, the
priory which has been utterly swept away, all looked up to a hill on
the right bank of the stream which art had changed into a stronghold
worthy to rank alongside of Arques and Gisors. Girt about with a deep
ditch, on the more exposed southern side with a double ditch, the hill
was crowned by a shell-keep which still remains, though patched and
shattered, and a donjon which has been wholly swept away. In this
fortress the aged warrior of Arques and Senlac received, like so many
of his neighbours, the troops which William of England had sent to
bring the Norman duchy under his power.
[Sidenote: Ralph of Toesny and Count William of Evreux.]
[Sidenote: Enmity of their wives.]
[Sidenote: Countess Heloise of Evreux.]
[Sidenote: Isabel of Montfort.]
[Sidenote: War between Conches and Evreux.]
[Sidenote: Ralph in vain asks help of the Duke.]
[Sidenote: He submits to William.]
[Sidenote: Advance of William’s party.]
The domains of all these lords lay in the lands on the right bank of
the Seine, the oldest, but, as I have often remarked, not the truest
Normandy. But the Red King also won a valuable ally in quite another
part of the duchy. This was Ralph of Conches or of Toesny, with whom
we are now most concerned as the husband of the warlike Isabel of
Montfort, and, in that character rather than in any other, the enemy
of the Countess Heloise and of her husband Count William of Evreux.
The rival lords were in fact half-brothers. The old Roger of Toesny,
the warlike pilgrim of Spain,[638] was succeeded by Ralph, who has so
often played his part in our story, and whom we last met in Duke
Robert’s army before Le Mans.[639] The widow of Roger, the mother of
Ralph, had married Richard Count of Evreux, and was by him the mother
of the present Count William.[640] But this near kindred by birth had
less strength to bind the brothers together than the fierce rivalry of
their wives had to set them at feud with one another. The jealousy of
these two warlike ladies kept a large part of Normandy in a constant
uproar. Our historian bitterly laments the amount of bloodshed and
havoc which was the result of their rivalry.[641] Heloise was of the
house of the Counts of Nevers, the Burgundian city by the Loire, a
descent which carries us a little out of our usual geographical
range.[642] Tall, handsome, and ready of speech, she ruled her husband
and the whole land of Evreux with an absolute sway. Her will was
everything; the counsels of the barons of the county went for
nothing.[643] Violent and greedy, she quarrelled with many of the
nobles of Normandy, with Count Robert of Meulan among them, and
stirred up her husband to many disputes and wars to gratify her fierce
passions.[644] At this time some slight which she had received from
the lady of Conches had led her to entangle her husband in a bitter
feud with his half-brother. Isabel or Elizabeth――the two names are, as
usual, given to her indifferently――the wife of Ralph of Toesny, was a
daughter of the French house of Montfort,[645] the house of our own
Simon. Like her rival, she must now have been long past her youth;
but, while Heloise was childless,[646] Isabel was the mother of
several children, among them of a son who has already played a part in
Norman history. This was that younger Ralph of Toesny who married the
daughter of Waltheof and who had taken a part in the present Duke’s
rebellion against his father.[647] Handsome, eloquent, self-willed,
and overbearing, like her rival, Isabel had qualities which gained her
somewhat more of personal regard than the Countess of Evreux. She was
liberal and pleasant and merry of speech, and made herself agreeable
to those immediately about her. Moreover, while of Heloise we read
indeed that she stirred up wars, but not that she waged them in her
own person, Isabel, like the ancient Queens of the Amazons, went forth
to the fight, mounted and armed, and attended by a knightly
following.[648] The struggle between the ladies of Evreux and Conches
was at its height at the moment when the castles of eastern Normandy
were falling one by one into the hands of Rufus. Isabel and Ralph were
just now sore pressed. The lord of Conches therefore went to Duke
Robert and craved his help;[649] but from Duke Robert no help was to
be had for any man. Ralph then bethought him of a stronger protector,
in the sovereign of his English possessions. King William gladly
received such a petition, and bade Count Stephen and Gerard of
Gournay, and all who had joined him in Normandy, to give all the help
that they could to the new proselyte.[650] The cause of the Red King
prospered everywhere; well nigh all Normandy to the right of Seine was
in the obedience of Rufus. All its chief men had, in a phrase which
startles us in that generation, “joined the English.”[651] And for
them the King of the English was open-handed. Into the hoard at
Winchester the wealth of England flowed in the shape of every kind of
unlawful exaction. Out of it it flowed as freely to enable the new
subjects of King William to strengthen the defences of their castles
and to hire mercenaries to defend them.[652]
[Sidenote: Helias of Saint-Saens.]
[Sidenote: He marries Robert’s daughter.]
[Sidenote: His descent.]
[Sidenote: He has Caux as his wife’s dowry.]
[Sidenote: Position of Saint-Saens.]
[Sidenote: Importance of his position.]
[Sidenote: Bures.]
[Sidenote: Helias holds Arques.]
[Sidenote: Faithfulness of Helias towards Robert.]
During all this time Duke Robert himself does not seem to have thought
of striking a blow. But there was one man at least between Seine and
Somme who was ready both to give and to take blows on his behalf.
Robert had given one of his natural children, a daughter born, to him
in his wandering days,[653] in marriage to Helias, lord of
Saint-Saens.[654] Helias, like so many of the Norman nobles, came of a
house which had risen to importance through the loves of Gunnor and
Richard the Fearless.[655] A daughter of one of Gunnor’s sisters
married Richard Viscount of Rouen, and became the mother of Lambert of
Saint-Saens, the father of Helias.[656] Helias and the daughter of
Robert had thus a common, though distant, forefather in the father of
Gunnor. With his wife Helias received a goodly dowry, nothing less, we
are told, than the whole land of Caux.[657] Helias’ own lordship of
Saint-Saens lies on the upper course of the Varenne, in a deep bottom
girt on all sides by wooded hills, one of which, known as the
_Câtelier_, overhanging the town to the north, seems to have been the
site of the castle of Helias. His stronghold has vanished; but the
church on which the height looks down, if no rival to Saint Hildebert
of Gournay, still keeps considerable remains of an age but little
later than that with which we have to do. The possessions of Helias,
both those which he inherited and those which he received with his
wife, made his resistance to the invader of no small help to the cause
of his father-in-law. They barred the nearest way to Rouen, not indeed
from Gournay, but from Eu and Aumale. They came right between these
last fortresses and the domain of Walter Giffard at Longueville. Of
the three streams which meet by Arques, while Helias himself held the
upper Varenne at Saint-Saens, his wife’s fortress of Bures held the
middle course of the Bethune or Dieppe below Gerard’s Gaillefontaine,
and below Drincourt, not yet the New Castle of King Henry.[658] The
massive church, with parts dating from the days of Norman
independence, rises on the left slope of the valley above an island in
the stream. But the site of the castle which formed part of the
marriage portion of Duke Robert’s daughter is hard to trace. But lower
down, nearer the point where the streams meet, the bride of Helias had
brought him a noble gift indeed. Through her he was lord of Arques,
with its donjon and its ditches, the mighty castle whose tale has been
told in recording the history of an earlier generation.[659] A glance
at the map will show how strong a position in eastern Normandy was
held by the man who commanded at once Saint-Saens, Bures, and Arques.
But the son-in-law of Duke Robert deserves our notice for something
better than his birth, his marriage, or his domains. Helias of
Saint-Saens was, in his personal character, a worthy namesake of
Helias of La Flêche. Among the crimes and treasons of that age, we
dwell with delight on the unswerving faithfulness with which, through
many years and amidst all the ups and downs of fortune, he clave to
the reigning Duke and to his son after him.[660] But this his later
history lies beyond the bounds of our immediate tale. What directly
concerns us now is that Helias was the one noble of Normandy whom the
gold of England could not tempt. It would be almost ungenerous to put
on record the fact that, unlike most of his neighbours, he had no
English estates to lose. The later life of Helias puts him above all
suspicion of meaner motives. Saint-Saens, Arques, Bures, and all Caux,
remained faithful to Duke Robert.
[Sidenote: William’s dealings with France.]
[Sidenote: Robert asks help of Philip.]
[Sidenote: Philip comes to help.]
[Sidenote: Meeting of the Norman and French armies.]
[Sidenote: They march on Eu.]
[Sidenote: Philip bribed to go back.]
With this honourable exception, an exception which greatly lessened
the value of his new conquests, William Rufus had won, without
hand-strokes, without his personal presence, a good half of the
original grant to Rolf, the greater part of the diocese of Rouen. He
was soon to win yet another triumph by his peculiar policy. By those
arms which were specially his own, he was to win over an ally, or at
least to secure the neutrality of an enemy, of far higher rank, though
perhaps of hardly greater practical power, than the Count of Aumale
and the aged lord of Longueville. Robert in his helplessness cried to
his over-lord at Paris. Had not his father done the same to Philip’s
father? Had not King Henry played a part at least equal to that of
Duke William among the lifted lances of Val-ès-dunes?[661] Philip had
had his jest on the bulky frame of the Conqueror, and his jest had
been avenged among the candles of the bloody churching at Mantes.[662]
By this time at least, so some of our authorities imply, Philip had
brought himself to a case in which the same jest might have been made
upon himself with a good deal more of point. At the prayer of his
vassal the bulky King of the French left his table and his dainties,
and set forth, sighing and groaning at the unusual exertion, to come
to the help of the aggrieved Duke.[663] It was a strange beginning of
the direct rivalry between England and France. King Philip came with a
great host into Normandy. And Robert must somewhere or other have
found forces to join those of his royal ally. And now was shown the
value of the position which was held by the faithful Helias in the
land of Caux. It must have been by his help that the combined armies
of Robert and Philip were able to march to the furthest point of the
Red King’s new acquisitions, to the furthest point of the Norman duchy
itself, to the castle of Eu, which was held, we are told, by a vast
host, Norman and English.[664] Let an honest voice from Peterborough
tell what followed. “And the King and the Earl with a huge _fyrd_
beset the castle about where the King’s men of England in it were. The
King William of England sent to Philip the Franks’ King, and he for
his love or for his mickle treasure forlet so his man the Earl Robert
and his land, and went again to France and let them so be.”[665] A
Latin writer does not think it needful to allow Philip the perhaps
ironical alternative of the English writer. Love between Philip and
William Rufus is not thought of. We are simply told that, while Philip
was promising great things, the money of the King of England met
him――the wealth of Rufus seems to be personified. Before its presence
his courage was broken; he loosed his girdle and went back to his
banquet.[666]
[Sidenote: The first English subsidy.]
[Sidenote: First direct dealings between England and France.]
[Sidenote: Different position of the two Williams.]
[Sidenote: Relation of England, Normandy, and France.]
[Sidenote: Results of Rufus’ dealings with Philip.]
Thus the special weapons of Rufus could overcome even kings at a
distance. But, ludicrous as the tale sounds in the way in which it is
told, this negotiation between Philip and William is really, in an
European, and even in an English point of view, the most important
event in the whole story. We should hardly be wrong in calling this
payment to Philip the first instance of the employment of English
money in the shape of subsidies to foreign princes. For such it in
strictness was. It was not, like a Danegeld, money paid to buy off a
foreign invader. Nor was it like the simple hiring of mercenaries at
home or abroad. It is, like later subsidies, money paid to a foreign
sovereign, on condition of his promoting, or at least not thwarting,
the policy of a sovereign of England. The appetite[667] which was now
first awakened in Philip of Paris soon came to be shared by other
princes, and it lasted in full force for many ages. Again, we have now
for the first time direct political dealings between a purely insular
King of England――we may forestall the territorial style when speaking
of England as a state rather than of Englishmen as a nation――and a
French King at Paris. The embassies which passed between Eadward and
Henry, even when Henry made his appeal on behalf of Godwine,[668]
hardly make an exception. William the Great had dealt with France as a
Norman duke; if, in the latter part of his reign, he had wielded the
strength of England as well as the strength of Normandy, he had
wielded it, as far as France was concerned, wholly for Norman
purposes. But William the Red, though his position arose wholly out of
the new relations between England and Normandy, was still for the
present a purely English king. The first years of Rufus and the first
years of Henry the First are alike breaks in the hundred and forty
years of union between England and Normandy.[669] Had not a Norman
duke conquered England, an English king would not have been seeking to
conquer Normandy; but, as a matter of fact, an English king, who had
no dominions on the mainland, was seeking to conquer Normandy. And he
was seeking to win it with the good will, or at least the neutrality,
of the French King. This was a state of things which could have
happened only during the few years when different sons of the
Conqueror ruled in England and in Normandy. Whenever England and
Normandy were united, whether by conquest or by inheritance, the old
strife between France and Normandy led England into the struggle. But
at the present moment an alliance between England and France against
Normandy was as possible as any other political combination. And the
arts of Rufus secured, if not French alliance, at least French
neutrality. But either alliance or neutrality was in its own nature
destructive of itself. Let either Normandy win England or England win
Normandy, and the old state of things again began. The union of
England and Normandy meant enmity between England and France, an
enmity which survived their separation.[670] Friendly dealings between
William and Philip were a step towards the union of England and
Normandy, and thereby a step towards that open enmity between England
and France which began under Rufus himself and which lasted down to
our fathers’ times. The bribe which Philip took at Eu has its place in
the chain of events which led to Bouvines, to Crécy, and to Waterloo.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: State of Normandy.]
[Sidenote: Private wars not interrupted by the invasion.]
[Sidenote: Action of Robert of Bellême.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Meulan claims the tower of Ivry.]
[Sidenote: He is imprisoned, but set free at the intercession of his
father.]
[Sidenote: Robert takes Brionne.]
But while things were thus, unknown to the actors in them, taking a
turn which was permanently to affect the history of mankind, the
immediate business of the time went on as before in the lands of
Northern Gaul. In Normandy that immediate business was mutual
destruction――civil war is too lofty a name; in Maine it was
deliverance from the Norman yoke. I am not called on to tell in detail
the whole story of every local strife between one Norman baron and
another, not even in those rare cases when the Duke himself stepped in
as a judge or as a party in the strife. Those who loved nothing so
well as slaughter, plunder, and burning, had now to make up for the
many years during which the strong hand of William the Great had kept
them back from those enjoyments. They had no thought of stopping,
though the kings of England and France, or all the kings of the earth,
should appear in arms on Norman soil. Many a brilliant feat of arms,
as it was deemed in those days, must be left to local remembrance;
even at events which closely touched many of the chief names of our
story we can do no more than glance. The revolt of Maine will have to
be spoken of at length in another chapter; among strictly Norman
affairs we naturally find Robert of Bellême playing his usual part
towards his sovereign and his neighbours, and we find the tower of
Ivry and the fortified hall of Brionne ever supplying subjects of
strife to the turbulent nobles. We see Robert of Bellême at war with
his immediate neighbour Geoffrey Count of Perche,[671] and driving
Abbot Ralph of Seez to seek shelter in England.[672] We also find him
beaten back from the walls of Exmes by Gilbert of Laigle and the other
warriors of his house, the house of which we have heard in the
Malfosse of Senlac and beneath the rocks of Sainte-Susanne.[673]
William of Breteuil loses, wins, and loses again, his late grant of
the tower of Ivry, and the second time he is driven to give both the
tower and the hand of his natural daughter as his own ransom from a
specially cruel imprisonment at the hands of a rebellious vassal.[674]
Brionne forms the centre of a tale in which its new lord and his son,
the other Roger and the other Robert of our story, play over again the
part of the Earl of Shrewsbury and his son of Bellême. Robert of
Meulan comes from England to assert his claim among others to the
much-contested tower of Ivry. The Duke reminds him that he had given
Brionne to his father in exchange for Ivry. The Count of Meulan gives
a threatening answer.[675] The Duke, with unusual spirit, puts him in
prison, seizes Brionne, and puts it into a state of defence. Then the
old Roger of Beaumont, old a generation earlier,[676] obtains, by the
recital of his own exploits, the deliverance of his son.[677] He then
prays, not without golden arguments, for the restitution of
Brionne.[678] The officer in command, Robert son of Baldwin, asserts
his own hereditary claim, and, at the head of six knights only, stands
a siege, though not a long one, against the combined forces of the
Duke and of the Count of Meulan and his father.[679] This siege is
remarkable. The summer days were hot; all things were dry; the
besiegers shot red-hot arrows against the roof of the fortified hall,
and set fire to it.[680] So Duke Robert boasted that he had taken in a
day the river-fortress which had held out for three years against his
father.[681]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Advance of Rufus.]
[Sidenote: The war of Conches and Evreux.]
[Sidenote: Movement at Rouen.]
These events concern us only because we know the actors, and because
they helped to keep up that state of confusion in the Norman duchy
which supplied the Red King at once with an excuse for his invasion,
and with the means for carrying out his schemes. It must be remembered
that the two stories are actually contemporary; while Robert was
besieging Brionne, the fortresses of eastern Normandy were already
falling one by one into the hands of Rufus. It is even quite possible
that Robert of Meulan’s voyage from England to Normandy, and the
demands made by him and his father on the Duke, were actually planned
between the cunning Count and the Red King as a means of increasing
the confusion which reigned in the duchy. But there are tales of local
strife which concern us more nearly. The war of the half-brothers, the
war of the Amazons, the strife between Conches and Evreux, between
Isabel and Heloise, is an immediate part of the tale of William Rufus.
The lord of Conches was strengthened in his struggle with his brother
by forces directly sent to his help by the King’s order.[682] The war
went on; and, while it was still going on, a far more important
movement began in the greatest city of Normandy, a movement in which
the King of the English was yet more directly concerned. Up to this
time his plans had been everywhere crowned with success. His campaign,
if campaign we can call it, had begun soon after Easter. Half a year
had passed, and nearly the whole of the oldest, though not the truest,
Normandy had fallen into his hands without his stirring out of his
island realm. It now became doubtful whether Robert could keep even
the capital of his duchy.
[Sidenote: November, 1090.]
[Sidenote: State of things in Rouen.]
[Sidenote: The municipal spirit.]
[Sidenote: Conan demagogue or tyrant.]
[Sidenote: Conan’s treaty with William.]
[Sidenote: The citizens favour William.]
[Sidenote: A party for Robert.]
[Sidenote: A day fixed for the surrender to William.]
[Sidenote: Robert sends for help.]
The month of November of this year saw stirring scenes alike in the
streets of Rouen and beneath the walls of Conches. But, while Conches
was openly aided by the King’s troops, no force from England or from
the parts of Normandy which William had already won had as yet drawn
near to Rouen. Rufus knew other means to gain over the burghers of a
great city as well as the lords of castles and smaller towns. The
glimpse which we now get of the internal state of the Norman
metropolis tells us, like so many other glimpses which are given us in
the history of these times, just enough to make us wish to be told
more. A state of things is revealed to us which we are not used to in
the history of Normandy. Rouen appears for a moment as something like
an independent commonwealth, though an enemy might call it a
commonwealth which seemed to be singularly bent on its own
destruction. The same municipal spirit which we have seen so strong at
Exeter and at Le Mans[683] shows itself now for a moment at Rouen. We
may be sure that under the rule of William the Great no man had
dreamed of a _commune_ in the capital of Normandy. His arm, we may be
sure, had protected the men of Rouen, like all his other subjects, in
the enjoyment of all rights and privileges which were not inconsistent
with his own dominion. But in his day Rouen could have seen no
demagogues, no tyrants, no armies in civic pay, no dealings of its
citizens with any prince other than their own sovereign. But the rule
of William the Great was over; in Robert’s days it may well have
seemed that the citizens of so great a city were better able to rule
themselves, or at all events that they were entitled to choose their
own ruler. When the arts of Rufus, his gifts and his promises, began
to work at Rouen in the same way in which they had worked on the
castles of the eastern border, his agents had to deal, not with a
prince or a lord, but with a body of citizens under the leadership of
one of whom one doubts whether he should be called a demagogue or a
tyrant. We seem to be carried over two hundred and forty years to the
dealings of Edward the Third with the mighty brewer of Ghent. The
Artevelde of Rouen was Conan――the name suggests a Breton origin――the
son of Gilbert surnamed Pilatus. He was the richest man in the city;
his craft is not told us; but we must always remember that a citizen
was not necessarily a trader.[684] His wealth was such that it enabled
him to feed troops of mercenaries and to take armed knights into his
pay.[685] Another leading citizen, next in wealth to Conan, was
William the son of Ansgar,[686] whose name seems to imply the purest
Norman blood. Conan had entered into a treaty with William, the object
of which, we are told, was to betray the metropolis of Normandy and
the Duke of the Normans――the sleepy Duke, as our guide calls him――into
the power of the island King.[687] Nor was this merely the scheme of
Conan and William; public feeling in the city went heartily with them.
A party still clave to the Duke; but the mass of the men of Rouen
threw in their lot with Conan, and were, like him, ready to receive
William as their sovereign instead of Robert.[688] They may well have
thought that, in the present state of things, any change would be for
the better; the utter lawlessness of the time, which might have its
charms for turbulent nobles, would have no charms for the burghers of
a great city. Or the men of Rouen may have argued then, much as the
men of Bourdeaux argued ages later, that they were likely to enjoy a
greater measure of municipal freedom, under a King of the English,
dwelling apart from them in his own island, than they would ever win
from a Duke of the Normans, holding his court and castle in Rouen
itself. Yet the friends of Robert might have their arguments too. The
party of mere conservatism, the party of order, would naturally cleave
to him. But other motives might well come in. True friends of the
_commune_ might doubt whether William the Red was likely to be a very
safe protector of civic freedom. They might argue that, if they must
needs have a master, their liberties were less likely to be meddled
with under such a master as Robert. But the party of the Duke’s
friends, on whatever grounds it stood by him, was the weaker party. A
majority of the citizens was zealous for William. A day was fixed by
Conan with the general consent, on which the city was to be given
up,[689] and the King’s forces were invited to come from Gournay and
other points in his obedience. Robert seems to have stayed in the
capital which was passing from him; but he felt that, if he was to
have supporters, he must seek for them beyond its walls. He sent to
tell his plight to those of the nobles of Normandy in whom he still
put any trust.[690] And he also hastened to seek help in a
reconciliation with some neighbours and subjects with whom he was at
variance.
[Sidenote: Henry and Robert of Bellême come to the Duke’s help.]
[Sidenote: Danger of the example of Rouen.]
[Sidenote: Others who help Robert.]
[Sidenote: November 3, 1090.]
[Sidenote: Henry at Rouen.]
It is certainly a little startling, after the history of the past
year, to find at the head of the list of Duke Robert’s new allies the
names of the Ætheling Henry and of Robert of Bellême. We may well
fancy that they took up arms, not so much to support the rights of the
Duke against the King as to check the dangerous example of a great
city taking upon itself to choose among the claims of kings, dukes,
and counts. Robert of Bellême may indeed have simply hastened to any
quarter from which the scent of coming slaughter greeted him. But
Henry the Clerk could always have given a reason for anything that he
did. Popular movements at Rouen might supply dangerous precedents at
Coutances. The Count of Coutances too might have better hopes of
becoming Duke of Rouen, if Rouen were still held for a while by such a
prince as Robert, than he could have if the city became either the
seat of a powerful commonwealth or the stronghold of a powerful king.
But, from whatever motive, Henry came, and he was the first to
come.[691] Others to whom the Duke’s messengers set forth his desolate
state[692] came also. Robert of Bellême, so lately his prisoner, Count
William of Evreux and his nephew William of Breteuil, all hastened, if
not to the deliverance of Duke Robert, at least to the overthrow of
Conan. And with them came Reginald of Warren, the younger son of
William and Gundrada,[693] and Gilbert of Laigle, fresh from his
victory over his mightiest comrade.[694] At the beginning of November
Duke Robert was still in the castle of Rouen; but his brother Henry
was now with him within its walls, and the captains who had come to
his help were thundering at the gates of the rebellious city.
[Illustration:
ROUEN
_For the Delegates of the Clarendon Press._ E. Weller.]
[Sidenote: Rouen in the eleventh century.]
[Sidenote: Position of the city.]
[Sidenote: The ducal castles.]
[Sidenote: The eastern side of the city.]
[Sidenote: The archbishopric.]
[Sidenote: Abbey of Saint Ouen.]
[Sidenote: Priory of Saint Gervase.]
[Sidenote: Castle of Bouvreil.]
[Sidenote: Walls of Saint Lewis.]
The Rouen of those days, like the Le Mans, the York, and the Lincoln,
of those days, was still the Roman city, the old Rothomagus. As in
those and in countless other cases, large and populous suburbs had
spread themselves over the neighbouring country; at Rouen, as at York,
those suburbs had passed the river; but the city itself, the walled
space to be attacked and defended in wartime, was still of the same
extent as it had been in the days before Rolf and before Chlodwig. The
rectangular space marking the Roman camp stretched on its southern
side nearly to the Seine, whose stream, not yet fenced in by quays,
reached further inland on that side than it now does. Rouen is
essentially a river city, not a hill city. The metropolitan church
does indeed stand on sensibly higher ground than the buildings close
to the river; but to one fresh from Le Mans or Chartres the rise which
has to be mastered seems trifling indeed. For a hill city the obvious
site would have been on the natural akropolis supplied by the height
of Saint Katharine to the south-east. Yet Rouen is a city of the
mainland; the islands which divide the waters of the Seine must have
been tempting points for Rolf in his Wiking days; but even the largest
of them, the Isle of the Cross, was hardly large enough for a town to
grow upon it. Of the walls of Rothomagus not a fragment is left; yet
the impress of a Roman _chester_ is hard to wipe out; it is still easy
to trace its lines among the streets and buildings of the greatly
enlarged mediæval and modern city. Frightful as has been the havoc
which the metropolis of Normandy has undergone in our own time,
mercilessly as the besom of destruction has swept over its ancient
streets, churches, and houses, the dæmon of modern improvement has
spared enough to enable us, if not to tell the towers, yet in idea to
mark well the bulwarks, of the city where the Conqueror reigned. Near
the south-west corner of the parallelogram, not far from the
river-side, had stood the earlier castle of the Dukes. Its site in
after times became the friary of the Cordeliers, a small fragment of
whose church, as well as another desecrated church within the castle
precinct, does in some faint way preserve the memory of the
dwelling-place of Rolf.[695] But by the days of Robert, the dukes had
moved their dwelling to the south-eastern corner, also near the river,
where the site of the castle is marked by the vast _halles_, and by
the graceful Renaissance porch, where the chapter of our Lady of Rouen
yearly, on the feast of the Ascension, exercised the prerogative of
mercy by saving one prisoner condemned to die. Here the memory of the
castle, though only its memory, lives in the names of the _Haute_ and
the _Basse Vieille Tour_, one of which is soon to be famous in our
story. On the eastern side the wall was washed by a small tributary of
the Seine, the Rebecq, a stream whose course has withdrawn from sight
almost as thoroughly as the Fleet of London or the Frome of
Bristol.[696] On this side of the city lay a large swampy tract, whose
name of _Mala palus_ still lives in a _Rue Malpalu_[697], though a
more distant part of it has taken the more ambitious name of the Field
of Mars. Within the wall lay the metropolitan church of our Lady and
the palace of the Primate of Normandy. If this last reached to
anything like its present extent to the east, the Archbishops of
Rouen, like the Counts of Maine,[698] must have been reckoned among
the men who sat on the wall. Outside the city, but close under the
wall, near its north-eastern corner, stood the great abbey of Saint
Ouen, the arch-monastery,[699] still ruled by its Abbot Nicolas,
though his long reign was now drawing to an end.[700] At the opposite
north-western angle, but much further from the walls, where the higher
ground begins to rise above the city, stood the priory of Saint
Gervase, the scene of the Conqueror’s death.[701] Saint Gervase indeed
stood, not only far beyond the Roman walls, but beyond those
fortifications of later times which took Saint Ouen’s within the city.
For Rouen grew as Le Mans grew. On the higher ground like Saint
Gervase, but more to the east, rose the castle of Bouvreil, which
Philip of Paris, after the loss of Norman independence, reared to hold
down the conquered city. Between his grandfather’s castle and the
ancient wall Saint Lewis traced out the newer line of fortification
which is marked by the modern _boulevards_. His walls are gone, as
well as the walls of Rothomagus; but of the house of bondage of Philip
Augustus one tower still stands, while of the dwelling-place of her
own princes even mediæval Rouen had preserved nothing.
[Sidenote: The gates.]
[Sidenote: Suburbs beyond the Seine.]
The four sides of the Roman enclosure were of course pierced by the
four chief gates of the city, of three of which we hear in our story.
Of these the western, the gate of Caux, is in some sort represented by
the Renaissance gate of the Great Clock[702] with its adjoining tower.
The northern gate bore the name of Saint Apollonius. The river was
spanned by at least one bridge, which crossed it by way of the island
of the Cross, near the second ducal castle. Beyond the stream lay the
suburb of Hermentrudeville, now Saint Sever, where Anselm had waited
during the sickness of the Conqueror.[703] There too the Duchess
Matilda, soon to be Queen, had begun the monastery of the meadow, the
monastery of our Lady of Good News, the house of _Pratum_ or _Pré_,
whose church still stood unfinished, awaiting the perfecting hand of
her youngest son.[704]
[Sidenote: Fright of Duke Robert.]
[Sidenote: Approach of Gilbert and Reginald.]
[Sidenote: Efforts of Conan.]
[Sidenote: Division among the citizens.]
[Sidenote: Utter confusion.]
Meanwhile the elder and best-beloved son of Matilda was trembling
within the city on the right bank of the broad river. Luckily he had
the presence of his youngest brother, the English Ætheling, the Count
of the Côtentin, to strengthen him. Personal courage Duke Robert never
lacked at any time; but something more than personal courage was now
needed. Robert was perhaps not frightened, but he was puzzled; at such
a moment he seemed to the calm judgement of Henry to be simply in the
way; it was for wiser heads to take counsel without him. But
deliverance was at hand. Both sides of the Seine sent their helpers.
Gilbert of Laigle crossed the bridge by the island close under the
ducal tower, and turned to the left to the attack of the southern
gate. Reginald of Warren at the head of three hundred knights drew
near to the gate of Caux.[705] Against this twofold attack Conan
strove hard to keep up the hearts of his partisans. He made speeches
exhorting to a valiant defence. Many obeyed; but the city was already
divided; while one party hastened to the southern gate to withstand
the assault of Gilbert, another party sped to open the western gate
and to let in the forces of Reginald. Soldiers of the King of the
English, the advanced guard doubtless of a greater host to come, were
already in the city, stirring up the party of Conan to swifter and
fiercer action.[706] Soldiers and citizens were huddled together in
wild confusion; shouts passed to and fro for King and Duke; men at
either gate smote down neighbours and kinsmen to the sound of either
war-cry.[707] The strength of the city was turned against itself. The
hopes of the commonwealth of Rouen, either as a free city or as a
favoured ally of the island King, were quenched in the blood of its
citizens. Le Mans and Exeter had fallen; but they had fallen more
worthily than this.
[Sidenote: Henry sends Duke Robert away.]
[Sidenote: No attacks from the east.]
Meanwhile Henry and those who were with him in the castle deemed that
the time had come for the defenders of the ducal stronghold to join
their friends within and without the city. But there was one
inhabitant of the castle whose presence was deemed an encumbrance at
such a moment. Men were shouting for the Duke of the Normans; but the
wiser heads of his friends deemed that the Duke of the Normans was
just then best out of the way. Robert came down from the tower, eager
to join in the fray and to give help to the citizens of his own
party.[708] But all was wild tumult; it needed a cooler head than
Robert’s to distinguish friend from foe. He might easily rush on
destruction in some ignoble form, and bring dishonour on the Norman
name itself.[709] He was persuaded by his friends to forego his
warlike purposes, and to suffer himself to be led out of harm’s way.
While every other man in the metropolis of Normandy was giving and
taking blows, the lord of Normandy, in mere personal prowess one of
the foremost soldiers in his duchy, was smuggled out of his capital as
one who could not be trusted to let his blows fall in the right place.
With a few comrades he passed through the eastern gate into the suburb
of the Evil Swamp, just below the castle walls. It is to be noticed
that no fighting on this side of the city is mentioned. The King’s
troops were specially looked for to approach from Gournay, and the
east gate was the natural path by which an army from Gournay would
seek to enter Rouen. One would have expected that one at least of the
relieving parties would have hastened to make sure of this most
important point. Yet one division takes its post by the southern gate,
another by the western, none by the eastern. Were operations on that
side made needless, either by the neighbourhood of the castle, by any
difficulties of the marshy ground, or by the disposition of the
inhabitants of the suburb? Certain it is that Duke Robert’s nearest
neighbours outside his capital were loyal to him. The men of the Evil
Swamp received the Duke gladly as their special lord.[710] He allowed
himself to be put into a boat, and ferried across to the suburb on the
left bank. There he was received by one of his special counsellors,
William of Arques, a monk of Molesme, and was kept safely in his
mother’s monastery till all danger was over.[711]
[Sidenote: Gilbert enters Rouen.]
[Sidenote: Slaughter of the citizens.]
[Sidenote: Conan taken prisoner.]
[Sidenote: Fate of Conan.]
[Sidenote: Henry and Conan in the tower.]
[Sidenote: Death of Conan.]
It was clearly not wholly for the sake of such a prince as this that
so many Norman leaders, Henry of Coutances among them, had made up
their minds that the republican movement at Rouen was to be put down.
The moment for putting it down had come. Gilbert of Laigle had by this
time, by the strength of his own forces and by the help of the
citizens of his party, entered Rouen through the southern gate. His
forces now joined the company of Henry; they thus became far more than
a match for the citizens of Conan’s party, even strengthened as they
were by those of the King’s men who were in the city. A great
slaughter of the citizens followed; the soldiers of Rufus contrived to
flee out of the city, and to find shelter in the neighbouring
woods;[712] the city was full of death, flight, and weeping; innocent
and guilty fell together; Conan and others of the ringleaders were
taken prisoners. Conan himself was led into the castle, and there
Henry took him for his own share of the spoil, not indeed for ransom,
but to be dealt with in a strange and dreadful fashion. It is one of
the contrasts of human nature that Henry, the great and wise ruler,
the king who made peace for man and deer, the good man of whom there
was mickle awe and in whose day none durst hurt other, should have
been more than once guilty in his own person of acts of calm and
deliberate cruelty which have no parallel in the acts of his father,
nor in those of either of his brothers. So now Conan was doomed to a
fate which was made the sterner by the bitter personal mockery which
he had to endure from Henry’s own mouth. The Ætheling led his victim
up through the several stages of the loftiest tower of the castle,
till a wide view was opened to his eyes through the uppermost
windows.[713] Henry bade Conan look out on the fair prospect which lay
before him. He bade him think how goodly a land it was which he had
striven to bring under his dominion.[714] These words well express the
light in which Conan’s schemes would look in princely eyes; the
question was not whether Robert or William should reign in Rouen; it
was whether Conan should reign there as demagogue or tyrant in the
teeth of all princely rights. Henry went on to point out the beauties
of the landscape in detail; the eyes of the scholar-prince could
perhaps better enjoy them than the eyes of Rufus or of Robert of
Bellême. Beyond the river lay the pleasant park, the woody land rich
in beasts of chase. There was the Seine washing the walls of the city,
the river rich in fish, bearing on its waters the ships which enriched
Rouen with the wares of many lands.[715] On the other side he bade him
look on the city itself thronged with people, its noble churches, its
goodly houses. The modern reader stops for a moment to think that, of
the buildings which then met the eye of Conan, churches, castles,
halls of wealthy burghers like himself, clustering within and without
the ancient walls, all doubtless goodly works according to the sterner
standard of that day, hardly a stone is left to meet his own eye as he
looks down from hill or tower on the great buildings of modern Rouen.
It was another Saint Romanus, another Saint Ouen, of far different
outline and style from those on which we now gaze, which Henry called
on Conan to admire at that awful moment. He bade him mark the
splendour of the city; he bade him think of its dignity as the spot
which had been from of old the head of Normandy.[716] The trembling
wretch felt the mockery; all that was left to him was to groan and cry
for mercy. He confessed his guilt; he simply craved for grace in the
name of their common Maker. He would give to his lord all the gold and
silver of his hoard and the hoards of his kinsfolk; he would wipe out
the stain of his past disloyalty by faithful service for the rest of
his days.[717] The Conqueror would have granted such a prayer in sheer
greatness of soul; the Red King might well have deemed it beneath him
to harm so lowly a suppliant. But the stern purpose of Henry was
fixed, and his wrath, when it was once kindled, was as fierce as that
of his father or his brother. “By the soul of my mother”――that seems
to have been the most sacred of oaths with Matilda’s defrauded heir,
as he looked out towards the church of her building――“there shall be
no ransom for the traitor, but rather a hastening of the death which
he deserves.”[718] Conan no longer pleaded for life; he thought only
of the welfare of his soul. “For the love of God, at least grant me a
confessor.”[719] Had the Lion of Justice reached that height of malice
which seeks to kill the soul as well as the body? At Conan’s last
prayer his wrath reached its height;[720] Conan should have no time
for shrift any more than for ransom. If the clergy of Saint Romanus
already enjoyed their privilege of mercy, they were to have no chance
of exercising it on behalf of this arch-criminal. With all the
strength of both his hands, Henry thrust Conan, like Eadric,[721]
through the window of the tower. He fell from the giddy height, and
died, so it was said, before he reached the ground. His body was tied
to the tail of a pack-horse and dragged through the streets of Rouen
to strike terror into his followers. The spot from which he was hurled
took the name of the Leap of Conan.[722] The tower, as I have said,
has perished; the site of the Leap of Conan must be sought for in
imagination, at some point, perhaps the south-eastern corner, of the
vast _halles_ of ancient Rouen.
[Sidenote: Policy of Henry.]
[Sidenote: Robert brought back.]
[Sidenote: Treatment of the citizens.]
[Sidenote: Imprisonment and ransom of William son of Ansgar.]
The rule of Robert was now restored in Rouen, so far as Robert could
be said to rule at any time in Rouen or elsewhere. It is remarkable
that after the death of Conan we lose sight of Henry; that is, as far
as Rouen is concerned, for we shall before long hear of him again in
quite different relations towards his two brothers. He may well have
thought that one fearful example was needed, but that one fearful
example was enough. He would secure the punishment of the ringleader,
even by doing the hangman’s duty with his own hands; but mere havoc
and massacre had no charms for him at any time. His policy might well
have forestalled the later English rule, “Smite the leaders and spare
the commons.” If Robert or anybody else was to reign in Rouen, nothing
would be gained by killing, driving out, or recklessly spoiling, the
people over whom he was to reign. But there were men at his side to
whom the utmost licence of warfare was the most cherished of
enjoyments. The Duke, never personally cruel,[723] was in a merciful
mood. When all danger was over, he was brought across the river from
his monastery to the castle. He saw how much the city had already
suffered; his heart was touched, and he was not minded to inflict any
further punishment. But he had to yield to the sterner counsels of
those about him, and to allow a heavy vengeance to be meted out.[724]
He seems however to have prevailed so far as to hinder the shedding of
blood. At least we hear nothing of any general slaughter. The fierce
men who had brought him back seem to have contented themselves with
plunder and leading into captivity. The citizens of Rouen were dealt
with by their countrymen as men deal with barbarian robbers. They were
spoiled of all their goods and led away into bondage. Robert of
Bellême and William of Breteuil, if they spared life, spared it only
to deal out on their captives all the horrors of the prison-house.[725]
The richest man in Rouen after the dead Conan, William the son of
Ansgar, became the spoil of William of Breteuil. After a long and
painful imprisonment, he regained his liberty on paying a mighty
ransom of three thousand pounds.[726]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Count William marches against Conches. November, 1090.]
Before his captive was set free, the lord of Breteuil himself learned
what it was to endure imprisonment, this time doubtless of a milder
kind than that which he inflicted on William the son of Ansgar or that
which himself endured at the hands of Ascelin.[727] The Count of
Evreux and his nephew of Breteuil must have marched almost at once
from their successful enterprise at Rouen to a less successful
enterprise at Conches. For it was still November when Count William or
his Countess resolved on a great attack on the stronghold of their
rival.[728] Evreux was doubtless the starting-point for an undertaking
which followed naturally on the work which had been done at Rouen. The
Count of Evreux might keep on the garb of Norman patriotism which he
had worn in the assault on the rebellious capital, and his Countess
might add to the other crimes with which she charged Ralph and Isabel
a share in the crime of Conan, that of traitorous dealing with the
invading enemy. The forces of Evreux and Breteuil were therefore
arrayed to march together against the stronghold of the common kinsman
and enemy at Conches.
[Sidenote: Position of Evreux and Conches.]
[Sidenote: Position of Mediolanum or Evreux.]
[Sidenote: History of Evreux.]
[Sidenote: The Roman walls.]
[Sidenote: Small traces of the eleventh century at Evreux.]
[Sidenote: The _Câtelier_.]
No contrast could well be greater than the contrast between the spot
from which Count William set forth and the spot which he led his
troops to attack. Near as Conches and Evreux are, they are more
thoroughly cut off from one another than many spots which are far more
distant on the map. The forest of Evreux parts the hills of Conches
from the capital of Count William’s county. The small stream of the
Iton flows by the homes of both the rival heroines. But at Conches it
flows below the hill crowned by castle, church, and abbey; at Evreux
its swift stream had ages before been taught to act as a fosse to the
four walls of a Roman _chester_. Low down in the valley, like our own
Bath, with the hills standing round about his city, the Count of
Evreux lived among the memorials of elder days. The walls of
Mediolanum, which can still be traced through a large part of their
circuit, fenced in to the south the minster of Our Lady and the palace
of the Bishop, then still tenanted by the eloquent Gilbert.[729] His
home, like that of his metropolitan at Rouen,[730] might seem to stand
upon the Roman wall itself. At the north-west corner, the wall fenced
in the castle from which Count William had driven out the Conqueror’s
garrison, and where he, either then or at some later time, overthrew
the Conqueror’s donjon.[731] The wall of Mediolanum, like the wall of
the Athenian akropolis, had fragments of ornamental work, shattered
columns, capitals, cornices, built in among its materials. It would
thus seem to belong to a late stage of Roman rule, when the Frank was
dreaded as a dangerous neighbour, perhaps when he had already once
laid Mediolanum waste. To the north, much as at Le Mans and at Rouen,
the city in later times enlarged its borders, as, in later times
still, it has enlarged them far to the south. The “Little City”――a
name still borne by a street within the Roman circuit――is a poor
representative of the Old Rome on the Cenomannian height;[732] but
both alike bear witness to the small size of the original Roman
encampments, and to the gradual process by which they were enlarged
into the cities of modern times. But in the days of William and
Heloise the circuit of Roman Mediolanum was still the circuit of
Norman Evreux. And, as in so many other places, the oldest monuments
have outlived many that were newer. Neither church, castle, nor
episcopal palace, keeps any fragments of the days of the warlike
Countess; it is only in the minster of Saint Taurinus without the
walls that some small witnesses of those times are to be found. Even
the Romanesque portions of the church of Our Lady must be later than
Count William’s day, and the greater part of the building of the
twelfth century has given way to some of the most graceful conceptions
of the architects of the fourteenth. The home of the Bishop has taken
the shape of a stately dwelling in the latest style of mediæval art;
the home of the Count has vanished like the donjon which Count William
overthrew. But the old defences within which bishops and counts had
fixed themselves in successive ages still live on, to no small extent
in their actual masonry, and in the greater part of their circuit in
their still easily marked lines. And, high upon the hills, the eye
rests on the stronghold of yet earlier days, bearing the local name of
the _Câtelier_, the earth-works which rise above Evreux as the
earth-works of Sinodun rise above the northern Dorchester. Here we may
perhaps see the point where the Gaul still held out on the hill, when
the Roman had already entrenched himself by the river-side. At Evreux
the works of the earliest times, the works of the latest times, the
works of several intermediate times, are there in their fulness. But
there is nothing whatever left in the city directly to remind us of
the times with which we are now dealing. A man might pass through
Evreux, he might make a diligent search into the monuments of Evreux,
and, unless he had learned the fact from other sources, he might fail
to find out that Evreux had ever had counts or temporal lords of any
kind.
[Illustration:
EVREUX
_For the Delegates of the Clarendon Press._ E. Weller.]
[Sidenote: Position of Conches.]
[Sidenote: Foundation of the monastery.]
[Sidenote: The castle.]
[Sidenote: The abbey.]
It is otherwise with the fortress of the warlike lady of the hills,
against which the warlike lady of the river-city now bade the forces
of her husband’s county to march. The home of Isabel has no more of
her actual work or date to show than the home of Heloise; but the
impress of the state of things which she represents is stamped for
ever on the stronghold of the house of Toesny. At Evreux the Count and
his followers lived in the midst of works which, even in their day,
were ancient; at Conches, on the other hand, all was in that day new.
Conches had already its minster, its castle, most likely its growing
town; but all were the works of its present lord or of his father. The
hill of Conches is another of those peninsular hills which, as the
chosen sites of castles, play so large a part in our story. But the
castle of Conches does not itself crown a promontory, like the castle
of Ballon. The cause doubtless was that at Conches the abode of peace
came first, and the abode of warfare came only second. Either Ralph
himself, the first of his house who bears the surname of Conches as
well as that of Toesny, or else his fierce father in some milder
moment, had planted on the hill a colony of monks, the house of Saint
Peter of Conches or Castellion.[733] The monastery arose on that point
of the high ground which is most nearly peninsular, that stretching
towards the north. To the south of the abbey presently grew up the
town with its church, a town which, in after times at least, was
girded by a wall, and which was sheltered or threatened by the castle
of its lords at the end furthest from the monastery. To the east, the
height on which town and castle stand side by side rises sheer from a
low and swampy plain, girt in by hills on every side, lying like the
arena of a natural amphitheatre. On the hill-side art has helped
nature by escarpments; the mound of the castle, girt by its deep and
winding ditch, rises as it rose in the days of Ralph and Isabel; but
the round donjon on the mound and the other remaining buildings of the
fortress cannot claim an earlier date than the thirteenth century. The
donjon and the apse of the parish church, a gem of the latest days of
French art, now stand nobly side by side; in Isabel’s day they had
other and ruder forerunners. But of the abbey, which must have
balanced the castle itself in the general view, small traces only now
remain; it has become quite secondary in the general aspect of the
place, which gathers wholly round the parish church and the donjon.
The western side of the hill, towards the forest which takes its name
from Conches, shows nearly the same features as the eastern side on a
smaller scale. It looks down on another plain girt in by hills; but on
this side the slope of the hill of Conches itself is gentler, and the
town is here defended by a wall. Altogether it was a formidable
undertaking when the lord of the ancient city in the vale carried his
arms against the fortress, the work of his brother, which had arisen
within his own memory on the height overlooking his own river.
[Sidenote: Siege of Conches.]
[Sidenote: Near kindred of the combatants.]
[Sidenote: Death of Richard of Montfort.]
[Sidenote: William of Breteuil taken prisoner.]
[Sidenote: Settlement of the county of Evreux on young Roger of
Conches.]
Count William thus began his winter siege of Conches; but, as usual,
we get no intelligible account of the siege as a military operation.
We are told nothing of the Count’s line of march, or by what means he
sought to bring the castle to submission. But, as usual too, we have
no lack of personal anecdotes, anecdotes some of which remind us how
near were the family ties between the fierce nobles who tore one
another in pieces. We have already mentioned one nephew of the Count
of Evreux who came with him to the attack of Conches. But William of
Breteuil was nephew alike of both the contending brothers. His mother
Adeliza, daughter of Roger of Toesny, wife of Earl William of Hereford
before he went to seek a loftier bride in Flanders,[734] was the whole
sister of Ralph of Conches and the half-sister of Count William of
Evreux.[735] Another nephew and follower of Count William, Richard of
Montfort, son of his whole sister, was moreover a brother of the
Penthesileia of Conches.[736] The fate of these two kinsmen was
different. Richard, in warring against his sister’s castle, with some
chance of meeting his sister personally in the field, did not respect
the sanctity of the neighbouring abbey of her husband’s foundation. He
heeded not the tears of the monks who prayed him to spare the holy
place. A chance shot of which he presently died was looked on as the
reward of his sacrilege. Both sides mourned for one so nearly allied
to both leaders.[737] William of Breteuil, the ally of his uncle of
Evreux, became the captive of his uncle of Conches. That wary captain,
when the host of Evreux came a-plundering, was at the head of a large
force of his own followers and of the King of England’s soldiers.[738]
But he bade his men keep back till the foe was laden with booty; they
were then to set upon them in their retreat. His orders were
successfully carried out. Many of the party became the prisoners of
the lord of Conches, among them the lord of Breteuil, the gaoler of
William the son of Ansgar.[739] Of this incident came a peace which
ended the three years’ warfare of the half-brothers.[740] The captive
William of Breteuil procured his freedom by a ransom of three thousand
pounds paid to his uncle of Conches, which was presently made good to
him by the ransom of his own victim from Rouen. Moreover, as he had no
lawful issue,[741] he settled his estates on his young cousin Roger,
the younger son of Ralph and Isabel. The same youthful heir was also
chosen by his childless uncle of Evreux to succeed him in his
county.[742] Perhaps Duke Robert confirmed all these arrangements as a
matter of course; perhaps the consent of such an over-lord was not
deemed worth the asking.
[Sidenote: Character of Roger.]
[Sidenote: The three dreams.]
[Sidenote: Baldwin of Boulogne.]
[Sidenote: Roger’s dream.]
The young Roger of Toesny thus seemed to have a brilliant destiny
opened to him, but he was not doomed to be lord either of Evreux or of
Breteuil. He was, it is implied, too good for this world, at all
events for such a world as that of Normandy in the reign of Robert.
Pious, gentle, kind to men of all classes, despising the pomp of
apparel which was the fashion of his day,[743] the young Roger
attracts us as one of a class of whom there may have been more among
the chivalry of Normandy than we are apt to think at first sight. An
order could not be wholly corrupt which numbered among its members
such men as Herlwin of Bec, as Gulbert of Hugleville,[744] and the
younger son of Ralph of Conches. A tale is told of him, a tale
touching in itself and one which gives us our only glimpse of the
inner and milder life of the castle of Conches under the rule of its
Amazonian mistress. A number of knights sat idle in the hall, sporting
and amusing themselves with talk in the presence of the lady
Isabel.[745] At last they told their dreams. One whose name is not
given, said that he had seen the form of the Saviour on the cross,
writhing in agony and looking on him with a terrible countenance. All
who heard the dream said that some fearful judgement was hanging over
the head of the dreamer. Then spoke Baldwin the son of Count Eustace
of Boulogne, one of the mightier sons of an ignoble father.[746] He
too had seen his Lord hanging on the cross; but the divine form was
bright and glorious; the divine face smiled kindly on the dreamer; the
divine hand blessed him and traced the sign of the cross over his
head.[747] All said that rich gifts of divine favour were in store for
him. Then the young Roger crept near to his mother, and told her that
he too knew one not far off who had beheld his vision also. Isabel
asked of her son of whom he spoke and what the seer had beheld. The
youth blushed and hesitated, but, pressed by his mother and his
comrades, he told how there was one who had lately seen his vision of
the Lord, how the Saviour had placed his hand on his head, and had
bidden him, as his beloved, to come quickly that he might receive the
joys of life. And he added that he knew that he who was thus called of
his Lord would not long abide in this world.
[Sidenote: Fulfilment of the dreams.]
[Sidenote: Death of young Roger.]
Such talk as this in the hall of Conches, in the presence of its
warlike lady, whether we deem it the record of real dreams or a mere
pious imagining after the fact, seems like a fresh oasis in the dreary
wilderness of unnatural war. Each vision was of course fulfilled. The
nameless knight, wounded ere long in one of the combats of the time,
died without the sacraments. Baldwin of Boulogne, afterwards
son-in-law of Ralph and Isabel,[748] was indeed called to bear the
cross, but in a way which men perhaps had not thought of six years
before Pope Urban preached at Clermont. Count of Edessa, King of
Jerusalem, the name of Baldwin lives in the annals of crusading
Europe; to Englishmen it perhaps comes home most nearly as the name of
a comrade of our own Robert son of Godwine.[749] But a brighter crown
than that of Baldwin’s kingdom was, long before Baldwin reigned, the
reward of the young Roger. A few months after the date of the tale, he
died peacefully in his bed, full of faith and hope, and, amid the
grief of many, his body was laid in the minster of Saint Peter of his
father’s rearing.[750]
[Sidenote: Later treaty between the two brothers.]
[Sidenote: 1100.]
[Sidenote: Banishment and death of Count William. April 18, 1108.]
There was thus peace between Conches and Evreux, a peace which does
not seem to have been again broken. Ten years later, in a time of
renewed licence, we find the two brothers joining in a private war
against Count Robert of Meulan.[751] Eight years later again, when
Count William and his Countess were busy building a monastery at
Noyon, they fell under the displeasure of King Henry, and died in
banishment in the land of Anjou.[752] Ralph of Toesny was succeeded by
his son the younger Ralph, and Isabel, after a long widowhood,
withdrew as a penitent to atone for the errors of her youth, one would
think of her later days also, in a life of religion.[753]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Orderic’s picture of Normandy.]
[Sidenote: His English feelings.]
It is after recording the war of Conches and the sack of Rouen that
the monk of Saint Evroul takes up his parable to set forth the general
wretchedness of Normandy in the blackest colours with which the
pictures of Hebrew prophets and Latin poets could furnish him. And it
is Orderic the Englishman[754] that speaks. In his Norman cell he
never forgot that he first drew breath by the banks of the Severn. In
his eyes the woes of Normandy were the righteous punishment for the
wrongs of England. The proud people who had gloried in their conquest,
who had slain or driven out the native sons of the land, who had taken
to themselves their possessions and commands, were now themselves
bowed down with sorrows. The wealth which they had stolen from others
served now not to their delight but to their torment.[755] Normandy,
like Babylon, had now to drink of the same cup of tribulation, of
which she had given others to drink even to drunkenness. A Fury
without a curb raged through the land, and smote down its inhabitants.
The clergy, the monks, the unarmed people, everywhere wept and
groaned. None were glad save thieves and robbers, and they were not
long to be glad.[756] And so he follows out the same strain through a
crowd of prophetic images, the locust, the mildew, and every other
instrument of divine wrath. We admit the aptness of his parallel when
he tells us that in those days there was no king nor duke in the
Norman Jerusalem; we are less able to follow the analogy when he adds
that the rebellious folk sacrificed at Dan and Bethel to the golden
calves of Jeroboam.[757] At last, when his stock of metaphors is worn
out, he goes back to his story to tell the same tale of crime and
sorrow in other parts of the Norman duchy.[758]
§ 3. _Personal Coming of William Rufus._
1091.
[Sidenote: Christmas Gemót at Westminster. 1090.]
[Sidenote: The King crosses to Normandy. February, 1091.]
[Sidenote: Duke Robert helps Robert of Bellême.]
[Sidenote: Hugh of Grantmesnil and Richard of Courcy.]
In a general view of the state of affairs, William Rufus had lost much
more by the check of his plans at Rouen than he could gain by any
successes of his Norman allies at Conches. The attempt of the Count of
Evreux on the castle of his new vassal had been baffled; but his own
far greater scheme, the scheme by which he had hoped to win the
capital of Normandy, had been baffled also. It may have been this
failure which led the King to see that his own presence was needed
beyond the sea. The Christmas Gemót of the year was held, not, as
usual, at Gloucester, but at Westminster. At Candlemas the King
crossed to Normandy with a great fleet.[759] The two things are
mentioned together, as if to imply that a further sanction of the
assembled Witan was given to this new stage of the war. War indeed
between William and Robert there was none. It does not seem that a
single blow was struck to withstand the invader. But blows were given
and taken in Normandy throughout the winter with as much zeal as ever.
And this time Duke Robert himself was helping to give and take them.
Stranger than all, he was giving and taking them in the character of
an ally of Robert of Bellême against men who seem to have done
nothing but defend themselves against the attacks of the last-named
common enemy of mankind. Old Hugh of Grantmesnil, once the
Conqueror’s lieutenant at Winchester and afterwards his Sheriff of
Leicestershire,[760] was connected by family ties with Richard of
Courcy,[761] and the spots from which they took their names, in the
diocese of Seez, between the Dive and the Oudon, lay at no great
distance from one another. They thus lay between Earl Roger’s own
Montgomery[762] and a series of new fortresses on the Orne and the
neighbouring streams, by which Earl Roger’s son hoped to extend his
power over the whole land of Hiesmes.[763] Hugh and Richard
strengthened themselves against the tyrant――such is the name which
Robert bears――gathering their allies and putting their castles in a
state of defence. Their united forces were too much for the lord of
Bellême. He sought help from his sovereign, and the Duke, who was not
allowed to strike a blow for his own Rouen, appeared as the besieger
of Courcy, no less than of Brionne. He who had fought to turn the
tyrant out of Ballon and Saint Cenery now fought to put Courcy into
the tyrant’s power.
[Sidenote: Siege of Courcy. January, 1091.]
[Sidenote: News of William’s coming. February.]
[Sidenote: The siege raised.]
[Sidenote: Men flock to William from all parts.]
[Sidenote: Treaty of Caen. 1091.]
The siege of Courcy began in January.[764] At the end of the month or
the beginning of the next, a piece of news came which caused the Duke
and the other besiegers to cease from their work. Robert himself could
see that there was something else to be done besides making war on
Hugh of Grantmesnil on behalf of Robert of Bellême, when the King of
the English was in his own person on Norman ground. The host before
Courcy broke up; some doubtless went to their own homes;[765] but we
may suspect that some found their way to Eu. For there it was that
King William had fixed his quarters; there the great men of Normandy
were gathering around him. They did not come empty-handed. They
welcomed the King with royal gifts; but it was to receive far greater
gifts in return. Thither too men were flocking to him, not only from
Normandy, but from France, Flanders, Britanny, and all the
neighbouring lands. And all who came went away saying that the King of
the English was a far richer and more bountiful lord than any of their
own princes.[766] In such a state of things it was useless for Robert
to think of meeting his brother in arms. His only hope was to save
some part of his dominions by negotiation before the whole Norman land
had passed into the hands of the island king. A treaty of peace was
concluded, by which Robert kept his capital and the greater part of
his duchy, but by which William was established as a powerful and
dangerous continental neighbour, hemming in what was left of Normandy
on every side.
[Sidenote: Cession of Norman territory to William.]
[Sidenote: Their geographical aspect.]
[Sidenote: Cession of Fécamp and Cherbourg.]
The treaty was agreed to, seemingly under the mediation of the King of
the French, in a meeting of the rival brothers at Caen.[767] The
territorial cession made by Robert mainly took the form of recognizing
the commendations which so many Norman nobles had made to the Red
King. They had sought him to lord, and their lord he was to be. The
fiefs held by the lords of Eu, Aumale, Gournay, and Conches, and all
others who had submitted to William, passed away from Robert. They
were to be held of the King of the English, under what title, if any,
does not appear. To hold a fief of William Rufus meant something quite
different from holding a fief of Robert. The over-lordship of Robert
meant nothing at all; it did not hinder his vassal from making war at
pleasure either on his lord or on any fellow-vassal. But the
over-lordship of William Rufus, like that of his father, meant real
sovereignty; the lords who submitted to him had given themselves a
master. If any of them had a mind to live in peace, their chance
certainly became greater; in any case the dread of William’s power,
combined with the attractions of the rich hoard which was so freely
opened, might account for the sacrifice of a wild independence. The
territory thus ceded to the east, the lands of Eu, Aumale, and
Gournay, involved a complete surrender of the eastern frontier of the
duchy. The addition of the lands of Conches formed an outpost to the
south. Rouen was thus hemmed in on two sides. But this was not enough,
in the ideas of the Red King, to secure a scientific frontier. The
lord of the island realm must hold some points to strengthen his
approach to the mainland, something better than the single port of Eu
in one corner of the duchy. Robert had therefore to surrender two
points of coast which had not, as far as we have heard, been occupied
by William or by his Norman allies. Rouen was to be further hemmed in
to the north-west, by the cession of Fécamp, abbey and palace. The
occupation of this point had the further advantage for William that it
put a check on the districts which had been kept for Robert by Helias
of Saint-Saen. These were now threatened by Fécamp on one side and by
Eu and Aumale on the other. And William’s demands on the Duke of the
Normans contained one clause which could be carried out only at the
cost of the Count of the Côtentin. Henry’s fortress of Cherbourg, not
so long before strengthened by him,[768] was also to pass to William.
So early was the art known by which a more powerful prince, with no
ground to show except his own will, claims the right to shut out a
weaker prince or people from the seaboard which nature has designed
for them.
[Sidenote: William demands Saint Michael’s Mount.]
[Sidenote: Money paid to Robert.]
[Sidenote: The lost dominions of the Conqueror to be restored to
Robert.]
[Sidenote: Projected recovery of Maine.]
Besides Cherbourg, the Red King demanded the island fortress of Saint
Michael’s Mount, the abbey in peril of the sea. Otherwise he seems to
have claimed nothing in the west of Normandy. Robert might reign, if
he could, over the lands which his father had brought into submission
on the day of Val-ès-Dunes. Nor were the great cessions which Robert
made to be wholly without recompence. It might be taken for granted
that the Duke whose territories were thus cut off was to have some
compensation in another shape out of the wealth of England. So it was;
vast gifts were given by the lord of the hoard at Winchester to the
pauper prince at Rouen.[769] But he was not to be left without
territorial compensation also. William not only undertook to bring
under Robert’s obedience all those who were in arms against him
throughout Normandy; he further undertook to win back for him all the
dominions which their father had ever held, except those lands which,
by the terms of the treaty, were to fall to William himself. This
involved a very considerable enlargement of Robert’s dominions,
besides turning his nominal rule into a reality in the lands where he
was already sovereign in name. It was aimed at lands both within and
without the bounds of the Norman duchy. Maine, city and county, was
again in revolt against its Norman lords.[770] By this clause of the
treaty William bound himself to recover Maine for Robert. This
obligation he certainly never even attempted to fulfil. He did not
meddle with Maine till the Norman lord and the English King were again
one. Then the recovery of Maine, or at least of its capital, became
one of the chief objects of his policy.
[Sidenote: Henry to be despoiled of the Côtentin.]
[Sidenote: Character of the agreement.]
[Sidenote: Henry attacked at once.]
But this clause had also a more remarkable application. Its terms were
to be brought to bear on one nearer by blood and neighbourhood to both
the contending princes than either Cenomannian counts or Cenomannian
citizens. The terms of the treaty amounted to a partition of the
dominions of the Count of the Côtentin between his two brothers.
Cherbourg and Saint Michael’s Mount were, as we have seen, formally
assigned to William, and the remainder of Henry’s principality
certainly came under the head of lands which had been held by William
the Great and which the treaty did not assign to William the Red. As
such they were to be won back for Robert by the help of William. That
is to say, William and Robert agreed to divide between themselves the
territory which Henry had fairly bought with money from Robert. No
agreement could be more unprincipled. As between prince and prince, no
title could be better than Henry’s title to his county; while, if the
welfare of the people of Coutances and Avranches was to be thought of,
the proposed change meant their transfer from a prince who knew the
art of ruling to a prince whose nominal rule was everywhere simple
anarchy. Neither Robert nor William was likely to be troubled with
moral scruples; neither was likely to think much of the terms of a
bargain and sale; but one might have expected that Robert would have
felt some thankfulness to his youngest brother for his ready help in
putting down the rebellious movement at Rouen.[771] William might
indeed on that same account look on Henry as an enemy; but such enmity
could hardly be decently professed in a treaty of alliance between
Robert and William. We may perhaps believe that the chief feeling
which the affair of Rouen had awakened in Robert’s mind was rather
mortification than gratitude. A brother who had acted so vigorously
when he himself was not allowed to act at all was dangerous as a
neighbour or as a vassal. The memory of his services was humiliating;
it was not well to have a brother so near at hand, and in command of
so powerful a force, a brother who, if he had at one moment hastened
to his elder brother’s defence, might at some other moment come with
equal speed on an opposite errand. But whatever were their motives,
King and Duke agreed to rob their youngest brother of his dominions.
And the importance which was attached to this part of the treaty is
shown by the speed and energy with which it was carried out. While the
recovery of Maine was delayed or forgotten, the recovery of the
Côtentin was the first act of the contracting princes after the
conclusion of the treaty.
[Sidenote: Probable objects of William.]
[Sidenote: Settlement of the English and Norman succession.]
[Sidenote: William and Robert to succeed one another.]
[Sidenote: Constitutional aspect of the agreement.]
[Sidenote: Growth of the hereditary principle,]
[Sidenote: and of the doctrine of legitimacy.]
[Sidenote: The two Æthelings]
[Sidenote: Henry;]
[Sidenote: Eadgar.]
[Sidenote: Eadgar banished from Normandy.]
[Sidenote: William’s policy towards]
[Sidenote: Henry and Eadgar.]
[Sidenote: Eadgar goes to Scotland.]
But, when we look to some other terms of the treaty, it is possible
that, in the mind of William at least, the spoliation of Henry had a
deeper object. One purpose of the treaty was to settle the succession
both to the kingdom of England and to the duchy of Normandy. Neither
the imperial crown nor the ducal coronet had at this moment any direct
and undoubted heir, according to any doctrine of succession. Both
William and Robert were at this time unmarried; Robert had more than
one illegitimate child; no children of William Rufus are recorded at
any time. The treaty provided that, if either King or Duke died
without lawful issue during the lifetime of his brother, the survivor
should succeed to his dominions. I have spoken elsewhere of the
constitutional aspect of this agreement.[772] It was an attempt to
barter away beforehand the right of the Witan of England to bestow the
crown of a deceased king on whatever successor they thought good. And,
like all such attempts, before and after, till the great act of
settlement which put an end to the nineteen years’ anarchy,[773] it
came to nothing. But that such an agreement should have been made
shows what fresh strength had been given by the Norman Conquest to the
whole class of ideas of which the doctrine of hereditary succession to
kingdoms forms a part.[774] But, putting this view of the matter
aside, the objects of the provision, as a family compact, were
obvious. It was William’s manifest interest to shut out Robert’s sons
from any share in the inheritance of their father. This was easily
done. The stricter doctrine of legitimacy of birth was fast
growing.[775] It was but unwillingly that Normandy had, sixty years
earlier, acknowledged the bastard of an earlier Robert; it was most
unlikely that Normandy would submit to a bastard of the present
Robert, while there yet lived lawful sons of him who had made the name
of Bastard glorious. Robert, on the other hand, might not be unwilling
to give up so faint a chance on the part of his own children, in order
to be himself declared presumptive heir to the crown of England. But
there were others to be shut out, one of whom at least was far more
dangerous than the natural sons of Robert. There were then in Normandy
two men who bore the English title of Ætheling, one of the old race,
one of the new; one whom Englishmen had once chosen as the last of the
old race, another to whom Englishmen looked as the first of the new
race who had any claim to the privileges of kingly birth. We must
always remember that, in English eyes, Henry, the son of a crowned
King of the English, born of his crowned Lady on English ground, had a
claim which was not shared by his brothers, foreign born sons of a
mere Norman Duke and Duchess.[776] The kingly and native birth of
Henry might put his claims at least on a level with those of Eadgar,
who, male heir of Ecgberht and Cerdic as he was, was born of uncrowned
parents in a foreign land.[777] Indeed it might seem that by this time
all thoughts of a restoration of the West-Saxon house had passed out
of the range of practical politics, and that the claims of Eadgar were
no longer entitled to a thought. The Red King however seems to have
deemed otherwise. He was clearly determined to secure himself against
the remotest chances of danger. Henry was to be despoiled; Eadgar was
to be banished. Eadgar had come back from Apulia;[778] he was now
living in Normandy on terms of the closest friendship with the Duke,
who had enriched him with grants of land, and, as we have seen,
admitted him to his inmost counsels.[779] We know not whether Eadgar
had given the Red King any personal offence, or whether William was
simply jealous of him as a possible rival for the crown. At any rate,
whether by a formal clause of the treaty or not, he called on Robert
to confiscate Eadgar’s Norman estates and to make him leave his
dominions.[780] Neither towards Henry nor towards Eadgar would the
policy of William Rufus seem to have been wise; but sound policy, in
any high sense, was not one of the attributes of William Rufus.
Whatever may be said of Henry’s relations towards Normandy, he was
more likely to plot against his brother of England if he became a
landless wanderer than if he remained Count of Coutances and
Avranches. As for Eadgar, it might possibly have been a gain if he
could have been sent back to Apulia or provided for in his native
Hungary. As it was, he straightway betook himself to a land where he
was likely to be far more dangerous than he could ever be in Normandy.
As in the days of William the Great,[781] he went at once to the court
of his brother-in-law of Scotland.[782] It may be that William
presently saw that he had taken a false step in the treatment of both
the Æthelings. At a later time we shall see both Henry and Eadgar
enjoying his full favour and confidence.
[Sidenote: The followers of each side to be restored.]
[Sidenote: The rebels of 1088 to be restored.]
The man before whose eyes the crown of England had twice been dangled
in mockery, and the man who was hereafter to grasp that crown with a
grasp like that of the Conqueror himself, were thus both doomed to be
for the moment despoiled of lands and honours. To men of less exalted
degree the treaty was more favourable. King and Duke alike, so far to
the credit of both of them, stipulated for the safety and restoration
of their several partisans in the dominions of the other. All
supporters of William in any of those parts of Normandy which were not
to be ceded to him were to suffer no harm at the hands of Robert. And,
what was much more important, all those who had lost their lands in
England three years before on account of their share in the rebellion
on behalf of Robert were to have their lands back again. An exception,
formal or practical, must have been made in the case of Bishop Odo. He
certainly was not restored to his earldom of Kent.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: The treaty sworn to.]
[Sidenote: It stands but a little while.]
[Sidenote: William and Robert march against Henry. Lent, 1091.]
[Sidenote: Henry’s position.]
[Sidenote: Earl Hugh of Chester and others betray their castles to
William.]
[Sidenote: Henry takes up his quarters at Saint Michael’s Mount.]
[Sidenote: The buildings on the Mount.]
[Sidenote: Abbot Roger. 1085.]
[Sidenote: The monks welcome Henry.]
The treaty was sworn to by twelve chief men on each side.[783] The
English Chronicler remarks, with perfect truth, that it stood but a
little while.[784] But one part at least was carried out at once and
with great vigour. Within less than a month after William had landed
in Normandy to dispossess Robert, he and Robert marched together to
dispossess Henry. They spent their Lent in besieging him in his last
stronghold. When the Count of Coutances heard of the coalition against
him, he made ready for a vigorous resistance. He put his two cities of
Coutances and Avranches and his other fortresses into a state of
defence, and gathered a force, Norman and Breton, to garrison
them.[785] Britanny indeed was the only quarter from which he received
any help in his struggle.[786] Those who seemed to be his firmest
friends turned against him. Even Earl Hugh of Chester, the foremost
man in the land from which his father had taken his name,[787] had no
mind to jeopard his great English palatinate for the sake of keeping
his paternal Avranches in the obedience of the Ætheling. Henry’s other
supporters, Richard of Redvers, it is to be supposed, among them, were
of the same mind. They saw no hope that Henry could withstand the
might, above all the wealth, of Rufus; they accordingly surrendered
their fortresses into the King’s hands.[788] One stronghold only was
now left to Henry, one of the two which had been specially marked out
to be taken from him, the monastic fortress of Saint Michael. The
sacred mount was then famous and venerable through all Normandy, and
far beyond the bounds of Normandy. Of that vast and wondrous pile of
buildings, halls, cloister, church, buildings which elsewhere stand
side by side, but which here are heaped one upon another, little could
then have been standing. The minster itself, which crowns all, had
begun to be rebuilt seventy years before by the Abbot Hildebert,[789]
and it may be that some parts of his work have lived through the
natural accidents of the next age[790] and the destruction and
disfigurement of later times. But the series of pillared halls,
knightly and monastic, which give its special character to the abbey
of the Mount, are all of far later date than the war of the three
brothers. Yet the house of the warrior archangel was already at once
knightly and monastic. The reigning abbot Roger was, in strict
ecclesiastical eyes, a prelate of doubtful title. He had come in――as
countless other bishops and abbots of Normandy and England had come
in――less by free election of the monks than by the will of the great
Duke and King.[791] What personal share Roger took in the struggle is
not recorded; but some at least of his monks, like the monks of Ely in
the days of Hereward,[792] welcomed the small body of followers who
still clave to Henry, and at whose head he now took up his last
position of defence in the island sanctuary.[793]
[Sidenote: Siege of the Mount.]
[Sidenote: Lent, 1091.]
[Sidenote: Its position.]
[Sidenote: The inner bay.]
[Sidenote: Later sieges. 1417-1424.]
[Sidenote: No mention of ships.]
[Sidenote: Positions of the besiegers.]
[Sidenote: Character of the siege.]
[Sidenote: Combats]
Here Henry was besieged by his two brothers, Duke and King. Yet we
hear of nothing which can in strictness be called a siege. The Mount
stands in the mouth of a bay within a bay. At high water it is
strictly an island; at low water it is surrounded by a vast wilderness
of sand――those treacherous sands from which thirty years before Harold
had rescued the soldiers of the elder William[794], and which stretch
back as far as the rocks of Cancale on the Breton shore. In this sense
the bay of Saint Michael may be counted to stretch from Cancale to the
opposite point on the Norman coast, where the land begins to bend
inwards to form the narrower bay. This last may be counted to stretch
from the mouth of the border stream of Coesnon below Pontorson to
Genetz lying on the coast nearly due west from Avranches. The Mount
itself and its satellite the smaller rock of Tombelaine lie nearly in
a straight line between these two points. Alternately inaccessible by
land and by water, accessible by land at any time only by certain
known routes at different points, the Mount would seem to be incapable
of direct attack by any weapons known in the eleventh century. On the
other hand, it would be easy to cut it off from all communication with
the outer world by the occupation of the needful points on the shore
and by the help of a blockading fleet. And in the great siege three
hundred and thirty years later――when Normandy had again a kingly duke
of the blood of Rolf and Henry, but when the Mount clave to the King
of Paris or of Bourges――we hear both of the blockading fleet of
England and of the series of posts with which the shore was lined.
Without a fleet the Mount could hardly be said to be besieged; but, on
the other hand, its insular position would be of no use to its
defenders, unless they had either ships at command or friends beyond
sea. In the present case we hear nothing of ships on either side, nor
of any help coming to the besieged. Nor do we hear of any systematic
occupation of the whole coast. We hear only that the besiegers
occupied two points which commanded the two sides of the inner bay, On
the north the Duke took up his quarters at Genetz; to the south the
besiegers occupied Arderon, not far from the mouth of the Coesnon,
while King William of England established himself in the central
position of Avranches.[795] The siege thus became an affair of endless
small attacks and skirmishes. We hear of the plundering expeditions
which Henry was able to make into the lands of Avranches and even of
Coutances, lands which had once been his own, but which had now become
hostile ground.[796] We hear too how, before each of the extreme
points occupied by the besiegers, before Genetz and before Arderon,
the knights on both sides met every day in various feats of arms,
feats, it would seem, savouring rather of the bravado of the tourney
than of any rational military purpose.[797]
[Illustration:
Map to illustrate the SIEGE OF Sᵀ MICHAEL’S MOUNT. A.D. 1091.
_For the Delegates of the Clarendon Press._ Edwᵈ. Weller]
[Sidenote: Personal anecdotes.]
[Sidenote: William compared to Alexander.]
[Sidenote: Knight-errantry of William.]
[Sidenote: The King upset.]
[Sidenote: His treatment of the knight who unhorsed him.]
We now get, in the shape of those personal anecdotes in which this
reign is so rich, pictures of more than one side of the strangely
mixed character of the Red King. At the other end of Normandy William
had won lands and castles without dealing a single blow with his own
sword, and with a singularly small outlay of blows from the swords of
others. At Eu, at Aumale, and at Gournay, the work had been done with
gold far more than with steel. Beneath Saint Michael’s Mount steel was
to have its turn; and, when steel was the metal to be used, William
Rufus was sure to be in his own person the foremost among those who
used it. The change of scene seemed to have turned the wary trafficker
into the most reckless of knights errant. Amidst such scenes he
became, in the eyes of his own age, the peer of the most renowned of
those Nine Worthies the tale of whom was made up only in his own day.
We shall see at a later stage how the question was raised whether the
soul of the Dictator Cæsar had not passed into the body of the Red
King; by the sands of Saint Michael’s bay he was held to have placed
himself on a level with the Macedonian Alexander. The likeness could
hardly be carried on through the general military character of the two
princes; for Alexander, when he began an enterprise, commonly carried
it on to the end. And it may be doubted whether Alexander ever
jeoparded his own life in the senseless way in which Rufus in the tale
is made to jeopard his. We must picture to ourselves the royal
head-quarters between the height of Avranches and the sands of Saint
Michael’s bay. The King goes forth from his tent, and mounts the horse
which he had that morning bought for fifteen marks of silver.[798] He
sees the enemy at a distance riding proudly towards him. Alone,
waiting for no comrade, borne on both by eagerness for the fray and by
the belief that no one would dare to withstand a king face to face, he
gallops forward and charges the advancing party.[799] The newly bought
horse is killed; the King falls under him; he is ignominiously dragged
along by the foot, but the strength of his chain-armour saves him from
any actual wound.[800] By this time the knight who had unhorsed him
has his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to deal a deadly blow.
William, frightened by the extremity of his danger, cries out, “Hold,
rascal, I am the King of England.”[801] The words had that kind of
magic effect which is so often wrought by the personal presence of
royalty. From any rational view of the business in hand, to slay, or
better still to capture, the hostile king should have been the first
object of every man in Henry’s garrison. To no case better applied the
wise order of the Syrian monarch, “Fight neither with small nor great,
save only with the King of Israel.”[802] But as soon as a voice which
some at least of them knew proclaimed that it was a king who lay
helpless among them, every arm was stayed. The soldiers of Henry
tremble at the thought of what they were so near doing; with all
worship they raise the King from the ground and bring him another
horse.[803] William springs unaided on his back; he casts a keen
glance on the band around him,[804] and asks, “Who unhorsed me?” As
they were muttering one to another, the daring man who had done the
deed came forward and said, “I, who took you, not for a king but for a
knight.” A bold answer was never displeasing to Rufus; he looked
approval, and said, “By the face of Lucca,[805] you shall be mine;
your name shall be written in my book,[806] and you shall receive the
reward of good service.” Here the story ends; we are to suppose that
William, instead of being carried a prisoner to the Mount, rode back
free to Avranches, having lessened the small force of Henry by a stout
knight and two horses.
[Sidenote: Character of the story.]
[Sidenote: Comparison with Richard the First.]
The tale is told as an example of the magnanimity of the Red King. And
there is something which moves a kind of admiration in the picture of
a man, helpless among a crowd of enemies, yet bearing himself as if
they were his prisoners, instead of his being theirs. The point of the
story is that Rufus did no harm, that he felt no ill will, towards the
man who had unhorsed, and all but killed him; that he honoured his
bold deed and bold bearing, and promised him favour and promotion. But
had the soldiers of Henry done their duty, William would have had no
opportunity, at least no immediate opportunity, of doing either good
or harm to his antagonist. William assumes that the enemy will not
dare to withstand him, and his assumption is so far justified that he
is withstood only by one who knows not who he is, and whose words
imply that, if he had known, he would not have ventured to withstand
him. Trusting to this kind of superstitious dread, William is able to
speak and act as he might have spoken if the man who unhorsed him had
been brought before him in his own tent. Richard of the Lion-heart,
when the archer who had given him his death-wound was brought before
him, first designed him for a death of torture, and then, on hearing a
bold answer, granted him life and freedom.[807] In this, as in some
other cases, the Red King, the earliest model of chivalry, certainly
does not lose by comparison with the successor who is more commonly
looked on as its ideal.[808]
[Sidenote: Contrast between William and Robert.]
[Sidenote: Lack of water on the Mount.]
[Sidenote: Henry asks to be allowed to take water.]
[Sidenote: Answer of Robert and William.]
Another and perhaps better known story which is told of this siege
puts the character of William Rufus in another light, while it brings
out the character of Robert in a lively form. The Duke, heedless of
the consequences of his acts but not cruel in his own person, was,
above all men, open to those passing bursts of generosity which are
quite consistent with utter weakness and want of principle. William
Rufus was always open to an appeal to his knightly generosity, to that
higher form of self-assertion which forbade him to harm one who was
beneath him, and which taught him to admire a bold deed or word even
when directed against himself. But the ties of kindred, still more the
ties of common humanity, sat very lightly on him. The gentler soul of
Robert was by no means dead to them. He did not shrink from waging an
unjust war against his brother and deliverer; he did not shrink from
despoiling that brother and deliverer of dominions which he had sold
to him by his own act for a fair price; but he did shrink from the
thought of letting the brother against whom he warred suffer actual
bodily hardships when he could hinder them. The defenders of the Mount
had, according to one account, plenty of meat; but all our narratives
agree as to the difficulty of providing fresh water for the fortress
which twice in the day was surrounded by the waves.[809] Henry sent a
message to the Duke, praying that he might be allowed access to fresh
water; his brothers might, if they thought good, make war on him by
the valour of their soldiers; they should not press the powers of
nature into their service, or deprive him of those gifts of Providence
which were open to all human beings.[810] Robert was moved; he gave
orders to the sentinels at Genetz not to hinder the besieged from
coming to the mainland for water.[811] One version even adds that he
added the further gift of a tun of the best wine.[812] This kind of
generosity, where no appeal was made to his own personal pride, was by
no means to the taste of Rufus; as a commander carrying on war, he was
ready to press the rights of warfare to the uttermost. When he heard
what Robert had done, he mocked at his brother’s weakness; it was a
fine way of making war to give the enemy meat and drink.[813] Robert
answered, in words which do him honour, but which would have done him
more honour if they had been spoken at the beginning as a reason for
forbearing an unjust attack on his brother――“Shall we let our brother
die of thirst? Where shall we find another, if we lose him?”[814]
[Sidenote: Henry surrenders.]
[Sidenote: William at Eu.]
[Sidenote: He goes back to England. August, 1091.]
Such are these two famous stories of the war waged beneath the mount
of the Archangel. Both are eminently characteristic; there is no
reason why both may not be true. But we must withhold our belief when
one of our tale-tellers adds that William turned away from the siege
in contempt for Robert’s weakness.[815] A more sober guide tells us
that when, for fifteen days, Henry and his followers had held up
against lack of water and threatening lack of food,[816] the wary
youth saw the hopelessness of further resistance, and offered to
surrender the Mount on honourable terms. He demanded a free passage
for himself and his garrison. William, already tired of a siege in
which he had made little progress and which had cost him many men and
horses,[817] gladly accepted the terms. Henry, still Ætheling, though
no longer Count, marched forth from his island stronghold with all the
honours of war.[818] We are to suppose that, according to the terms of
the treaty, the King took possession of the Mount itself, and the Duke
of the rest of Henry’s former county. William stayed on the mainland,
in the parts of Normandy which had been ceded to him, for full six
months, having his head-quarters at Eu.[819] In August the affairs of
his island kingdom called him back again; and, strange to say, both
his brothers went with him as his guests and allies.[820]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Fortunes of Henry.]
[Sidenote: His presence in England in 1091.]
[Sidenote: Story of Henry’s adventures.]
[Sidenote: His alleged wanderings.]
[Sidenote: Robert and Henry accompany William to England.]
At this moment the past and the future alike lead us to look with more
interest on the fates of the dispossessed Ætheling than on those of
any other of the actors in our story. But there is at first sight some
little difficulty in finding out what those fates were. From our
English authorities we could only gather that Henry was in England
before the end of the year in which the siege took place, and that
three years later he was again beyond sea, in favour with William and
at enmity with Robert. From other writers we get a version, which
takes no notice of any visit to England, but which gives us a moving
tale of Henry’s experiences in Normandy and the neighbouring lands. It
is one of those cases where a writer, telling his own part of the
story, altogether forgets, perhaps without formally contradicting,
other parts. In such a case he is likely to stumble in some of his
dates and details; but this need not lead us altogether to cast aside
the main features of his story. It is plain that, for some time after
the surrender of the Mount, Henry was, to say the least, landless. In
the pictures of his actual distress and adversity there may well be
somewhat of exaggeration; but they draw from one who is not a
flatterer the important remark that, having known adversity himself,
he learned to be gracious in after years to the sufferings of
others.[821] We are perhaps startled by such a saying when we think of
some particular acts of Henry; but this witness does not stand alone;
and, among the contradictions of human nature, there is nothing
impossible in the belief that such a spirit may have existed alongside
of many particular acts of cruelty.[822] But it is certain that
Henry’s season of adversity must have been shorter than it appears in
the picture of it which is given to us. We are told that, soon after
he left the Mount, he found himself very nearly a solitary wanderer.
He first went into Britanny, the only land from which he had received
any help, and thanked his friends there for their services. Thence he
betook himself to France, and spent, we are told, nearly two years in
the borderland of the Vexin, the land which had been the scene of his
father’s last and fatal warfare, and which was again to be the scene
of warfare before his brother’s reign was ended. There, with a train
cut down to one knight, one clerk, and three esquires, Henry wandered
to and fro, seeking shelter where he could.[823] Whatever truth there
may be in these details, the time of Henry’s probation could not have
been spread over anything like a period of two years. He may have been
a wanderer during the few months which immediately followed the
surrender of the Mount; but, if so, he was reconciled to both his
brothers long before the end of the year. Or he may, from some
unexplained reason, have again become a wanderer during some months of
the following year. There is nothing in any way impossible or unlikely
in either story. What is certain is that, before the end of the next
year, Henry had again an establishment on Gaulish ground, and one
gained in the most honourable way. And it is equally certain that when
King William went back to England in the month of August in the
present year he took both of his brothers with him.[824]
§ 4. _The Scottish Expedition of William Rufus._
_August-October, 1091._
[Sidenote: Affairs of Scotland.]
[Sidenote: Malcolm’s invasion of Northumberland. May, 1091.]
[Sidenote: He is driven back.]
[Sidenote: The “good men.”]
The business which called William back to his kingdom was a serious
one; it was no other than to drive back or to avenge a Scottish
invasion. King Malcolm, who seems to have stayed quiet during the
rebellion three years before, now took up arms. We cannot help
connecting this step with the visit of his brother-in-law, and the
words of the Chronicler seem directly to imply that Malcolm’s invasion
was the consequence of Eadgar’s coming.[825] From one version we might
almost think that Malcolm had been called on to do homage and had
refused.[826] This is perfectly possible in itself; but the time of
William’s special occupation with Norman affairs seems oddly chosen
for such a summons. An earlier time, some point in the blank period
between the rebellion and the Norman campaign, would have seemed more
natural for such a purpose. However this may be, now, in the month of
May, Malcolm took advantage of William’s absence in Normandy to invade
Northumberland for the fourth time. He designed, we are told, to go
much further and do much more, words which might almost suggest a
purpose of asserting the claims of Eadgar to the English crown.
Whatever were his objects, they were not carried out, save one which
was doubtless not the least among them, that of carrying off great
spoil from Northumberland.[827] The furthest point that Malcolm
reached was Chester-le-Street, a point unpleasantly near to the
bishopless monks of Durham.[828] There the men in local command went
against him and drove him back. In the national Chronicle they appear
as “the good men who guarded this land.”[829] In this way of speaking,
as in many other phrases in our own and other tongues, the word “good”
means rank and office rather than moral goodness. Yet the latter idea
is not wholly absent; the name would hardly be given to men who were
engaged in a cause which the writer wholly condemned. The “good men”
here spoken of must have been mainly Normans, with Earl Robert of
Mowbray at their head. Earl Robert was not likely to have won much
love from the English people. Yet he passed for a “good man,” when he
did his duty for England, when he guarded the land and drove back the
Scottish invader. Of any wish to put Malcolm in the place of either
the elder or the younger William we see no trace at any stage of our
story. Beyond this emphatic sentence, we get no details. As in so many
other cases, if conquest was the object of Malcolm’s expedition,
plunder was the only result.
[Sidenote: William and Robert in England. August, 1091.]
[Sidenote: Relations between Robert and Malcolm.]
[Sidenote: Stronger side of Robert and Eadgar.]
The news of this harrying of the northern part of his kingdom brought
King William back from Normandy in the course of August. With him, as
we have said, came Robert and Henry. Why was the Duke’s presence
needed? One account hints that his coming had some reference to the
actors in the late rebellion, some of whom at least were now restored
to their estates.[830] Another version speaks of an old friendship
between Robert and Malcolm;[831] and there was a tie of spiritual
affinity between them arising out of Robert’s relation as godfather to
a child of Malcolm.[832] It was perhaps in this character that Robert
came to act, if need should be, as a welcome negotiator with his
Scottish gossip. One strange thing is that, on more than one occasion
in our story, both Robert and Eadgar, two men who seem so incapable of
vigorous or rational action on behalf of themselves, play a distinctly
creditable part when acting on behalf of others. But this is really no
uncommon inconsistency of human nature; men are often found who are
good advisers in the affairs of others, while they are by no means
wise managers of their own. Robert in truth appears to most advantage
anywhere out of his own duchy. Neither the warrior of the crusade nor
the negotiator with the Scot seems to be the same man as the Duke who
could not be trusted to defend his own palace.
[Sidenote: William sets forth.]
[Sidenote: Durham in the absence of Bishop William.]
[Sidenote: The King’s favourable treatment of the monks.]
[Sidenote: Works at Durham.]
[Sidenote: Reconciliation of Bishop William with the King.]
[Sidenote: He is restored to his bishopric. September 3, 1091.]
[Sidenote: His renewed influence with the King.]
In the present case there was more of negotiation than of warfare. Of
actual fighting there seems to have been none. William got together,
as his father had done in the like case,[833] a great force by land
and sea for the invasion of Scotland. With the land force the King and
the Duke set forth; but seemingly with no haste, as time was found for
a great ecclesiastical ceremony on the way. For three years the church
of Durham had been without a shepherd, and the castle of Durham had
been in the hands of the King. The monks of Saint Cuthberht’s abbey
had feared that this irregular time would be an evil time for them.
But they put their trust in God and their patron saint, and went to
the King to ask his favour. Rufus was specially gracious and merciful;
he rose up to greet Prior Turgot, the head of the embassy, and he gave
orders that the monks of Durham should be in no way disturbed, but
should keep full possession of their rights and property, exactly as
if the Bishop had remained in occupation of his see.[834] We may even
venture to guess that they had a somewhat fuller possession of them
during the Bishop’s absence. We are expressly told by the local
historian that the Red King did not deal with Durham as he dealt with
other churches; he took nothing from the monks, and even gave them
something of his own.[835] The new society――for it must be remembered
that the monks of Durham were a body of Bishop William’s own bringing
in[836]――flourished so greatly during this irregular state of things
that it was now that they built their refectory.[837] But a time of
more settled order was now to come. Bishop William of Saint-Calais,
whatever had been his crimes three years back, was among those whom
King William had engaged by his treaty with his brother to restore to
their lands and honours. Besides this general claim, it was believed,
at Durham at least, that the banished prelate had earned his
restoration by a signal service done to the King. In the third year of
his banishment an unnamed Norman fortress was holding out for the
King; but its garrison was sore pressed, and its capture by the enemy
seemed imminent. The Bishop, by what means of persuasion we are not
told, but it does not seem to have been by force, caused the besiegers
to raise the siege.[838] This service won the King’s thorough good
will, and William, on his march to Scotland, personally put the Bishop
once more in possession of his see and of all its rights and
belongings, temporal and spiritual.[839] Bishop William did not come
back empty-handed; he brought with him costly gifts for his church,
ornaments, gold and silver vessels, and, above all, many books.[840]
And, at some time before the year was out, we find him confirming with
great solemnity, with the witness of the great men of the realm,
certain grants of the Conqueror to the monks of his church.[841] The
return of the Bishop was an event not only of local but of national
importance. He was restored by the King, not only to his formal
favour, but to a high place in his innermost counsels. Bishop William
was not one of those who come back from banishment having learned
nothing and forgotten nothing. He had, in his sojourn beyond the sea,
learned an altogether new doctrine as to the relations between bishops
and kings.
[Sidenote: Loss of the ships. Michaelmas, 1091.]
[Sidenote: William and Malcolm by the _Scots’ Water_.]
[Sidenote: Mediation of Robert and Eadgar.]
[Sidenote: Conference of Robert and Malcolm.]
[Sidenote: Malcolm’s homage to Robert.]
[Sidenote: He submits to William.]
The march which had been interrupted by the ceremony at Durham was
clearly a slow one. William was at Durham in the first days of
September; much later in the month a heavy blow fell on one part of
the expedition. The greater part of the ships were lost a few days
before the feast of Michaelmas, and we are told that this happened
before the King could reach Scotland. The King was therefore several
weeks in journeying from Durham to the border of the true Scotland,
the Firth of Forth; and we are told that many of the land force also
perished of cold and hunger.[842] The army however which remained was
strong enough to make Malcolm feel less eager for deeds of arms than
he had most likely felt in May. At last, near the shore of the _Scots’
Water_, the estuary which parted English Lothian from Scottish Fife,
the two kings met face to face, seemingly in battle array, but without
coming to any exchange of blows. It is marked in a pointed way that
Malcolm had crossed from his kingdom to his earldom. He “went out of
Scotland into Lothian in England, and there abode,”[843] There a
negotiation took place. The ambassadors or mediators were Duke Robert
and the Ætheling Eadgar.[844] According to the most picturesque
version, Malcolm, who is conceived as still keeping on the northern
side of the firth, sends a message to William to the effect that he
owes no homage to him, but that, if he can have an interview with
Robert, he will do to him whatever is right. By the advice of his Wise
Men,[845] William sends his brother, who is courteously received by
the Scottish King for three days. Somewhat like the Moabite king of
old, though with quite another purpose, Malcolm takes his visitor to
the tops of various hills, and shows him the hosts of Scotland
encamped in the plains and dales below. With so mighty a force he is
ready to withstand any one who should try to cross the firth; he would
be well pleased if any enemy would make the attempt. He then suddenly
turns to the question of homage. He had received the earldom of
Lothian from King Eadward, when his great-niece Margaret was betrothed
to him. The late King William had confirmed the gifts of his
predecessor, and, at his bidding, he, Malcolm, had become the man of
his eldest son, his present visitor Duke Robert. To him he would
discharge his duty; to the present King William he owed no duty at
all. He appealed to the Gospel for the doctrine that no man could
serve two lords, the doctrine which had been so practically pressed on
Robert’s behalf three years before.[846] Robert admitted the truth of
Malcolm’s statement; but he argued that times were changed, and that
the decrees of his father had lost their old force. It would be wise
to accept the reigning King as his lord, a lord nearer, richer, and
more powerful, than he could pretend to be himself. Malcolm might be
sure of a gracious reception from William, if he came on such an
errand. Malcolm was convinced; he went to the King of the English; he
was favourably received, and a peace was agreed on. It is added that
the two kings then disbanded their armies, and went together into
England.[847]
[Sidenote: Question as to the betrothal of Margaret.]
[Sidenote: Question of Lothian.]
This last statement throws some doubt upon the whole of this version;
for Malcolm’s alleged journey to England at this moment is clearly a
confusion with events which happened two years later. The references
too to the earldom of Lothian and to an earlier betrothal of Margaret
are a little startling; yet it is perhaps not quite hopeless to
reconcile them with better ascertained facts. As I have elsewhere
suggested, this earlier betrothal of Margaret to Malcolm is not
necessarily inconsistent with his later marriage with her after the
intermediate stage of Ingebiorg.[848] Malcolm may at one time have
been in no hurry to carry out a marriage dictated by political
reasons; yet he may have afterwards become eager for the same marriage
after he had seen her whose hand was designed for him. As for the
Lothian earldom, we here see the beginning of the later Scottish
argument, that homage was due from the Scottish to the English king
only for lands held within the kingdom of England. At this stage
Lothian was the land held within the kingdom of England; it was what
Northumberland, Huntingdon, or any other confessedly English land held
by the Scottish king, was in later times. When Malcolm was restored to
his crown by the arms of Siward,[849] no doubt Lothian was granted to
him among other things. Only Malcolm takes up the line, or our
historian thinks it in character to make him take up the line, of
implying, though not directly asserting, that Lothian was the only
possession for which homage was due. And, on the strictest view of
English claims, Malcolm would be right in at least drawing a marked
distinction between Scotland and Lothian. He owed both kingdom and
earldom to the intervention of Eadward and Siward; but Lothian was a
grant from Eadward in a sense in which Scotland was not. Over Scotland
neither Eadward nor William could claim more than an external
superiority. Lothian was still English ground, as much as the land
which is now beginning to be distinguished as Northumberland.
[Sidenote: Treaty between William and Malcolm.]
[Sidenote: Malcolm does homage.]
The version of Malcolm’s submission which I have just gone through is
certainly worth examining, and I do not see that it contradicts the
simpler and more certain version. According to this account, the
negotiation was carried on between Robert and Eadgar. The agreement to
which the mediators came was that Malcolm should renew to the younger
William the homage which he had paid to the elder.[850] On the other
hand, he was to receive all lands and everything else that he had
before held in England, specially, it would seem, twelve _vills_ or
mansions for his reception on his way to the English court.[851] On
these terms Malcolm became the man of William; Eadgar also was
reconciled to William. The two kings parted on good terms, but the
Chronicler notices, in a phrase of which he is rather fond, that it
“little while stood.”[852]
[Sidenote: Return of William.]
[Sidenote: Evidence of the Durham charters.]
[Sidenote: Duncan.]
[Sidenote: Eadgar.]
[Sidenote: Henry.]
[Sidenote: Siward Barn.]
William, Robert, and Eadgar now took their journey back again, as it
is specially marked, from Northumberland into Wessex.[853] The realm
of Ælfred is still looked on as the special dwelling-place of his
successors from beyond the sea. But it would seem that, at some stage
of their southward journey, at some time before the year was out, they
joined with other men of royal and princely descent in setting their
crosses to a document, in itself of merely local importance, but which
is clothed with a higher interest by the names of those who sign it. A
grant of certain churches to the convent of Durham becomes a piece of
national history when, besides the signatures for which we might
naturally look, it bears the names of King William the Second, of
Robert his brother, of Henry his brother, of Duncan son of King
Malcolm, of Eadgar the Ætheling, and of Siward Barn.[854] This is the
only time when all these persons could have met. There is no sign of
any later visit of Robert to England during the reign of William. But
the signatures of Henry and Duncan teach us more. Duncan, it will be
remembered, had been given as a hostage at Abernethy;[855] he had been
set free by the Conqueror on his death-bed; he had been knighted by
Robert, and allowed to go whither he would.[856] Had he already made
his way back to his own land, or did he come in the train of his
latest benefactor? In the former case, had he been again given as a
hostage? Or had William found out that the son of Ingebiorg might
possibly be useful to him? It is certain that, two years later, Duncan
was at William’s court and in William’s favour; and it looks very much
as if he had, in whatever character, gone back to England with the
King. The signature of Eadgar shows that the document must be later
than the treaty with Malcolm by which he was reconciled to William,
that is, that it was signed on the journey southward, not on the
journey northward. The signature of Henry is our only hint that he had
any share at all in the Scottish business, and it throws a perfectly
new light on this part of his history. He was plainly in England,
seemingly in favour with both his brothers, and things look as if he
too, though he is nowhere mentioned, must have gone on the march to
Scotland. Siward Barn, like Duncan, was one of those who were set free
by William the Great on his death-bed. We now learn that he shared the
good luck of Duncan and Wulf, not the bad luck of Morkere and
Wulfnoth. He signs as one of the great men of the north, with Arnold
of Percy, with the Sheriff Morel, and with Earl Robert himself.
[Sidenote: Fresh dispute between William and Robert.]
[Sidenote: Robert and Eadgar leave England. December 23, 1091.]
One thing is plain, namely, that this document was not signed in the
regular Christmas Assembly of the year. By that time Robert and Eadgar
were no longer in England. By that time Robert and William had again
quarrelled. We may guess that some of Robert’s old partisans had been
less lucky than the Bishop of Durham. At all events, some points in
the treaty of Caen remained unfulfilled. Then, as in later times, a
diplomatic engagement was not found strong enough to carry itself out
by its own force, like a physical law of nature. We are not told what
was the special point complained of; but something which the Red King
should have done for Robert or for his partisans was left undone.[857]
It was simply as a man and a king that Rufus had entered into any
engagements with his brother. His knightly honour was not pledged; the
treaty therefore came under the head of those promises which no man
can fulfil.[858] We are told in a pointed way that Robert stayed with
his brother till nearly the time of Christmas. The matter in dispute,
whatever it was, might have been fittingly discussed in the Christmas
Assembly; only it might have been hard to find the formula by which
the Duke of the Normans was to appeal the King of the English of bad
faith before his own Witan. Two days before the feast Robert took ship
in Wight, and sailed to Normandy, taking the Ætheling Eadgar with
him.[859]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Natural phænomena. Fall of the tower at Winchcombe. October
15, 1091.]
[Sidenote: Great wind in London. October 17, 1091.]
[Sidenote: Fire in London. March 28, 1092.]
[Sidenote: Consecration of the church of Salisbury. April 5, 1092.]
[Sidenote: The tower roof thrown down. April 10.]
Either the reign of Rufus was really richer than other times in
striking natural phænomena, or else they were specially noticed as
signs of the times. About the time of the King’s Scottish expedition,
the tower of the minster at Winchcombe was smitten by a mighty
thunderbolt, and fell in ruins on the body of the church, crushing the
most hallowed images in its fall. The Chthonian Zeus had no place in
the mythology of the times; but this destruction, which left behind it
a thick smoke and an evil smell, was deemed to be the work of the evil
one, the signs of whose presence were got rid of only by the most
solemn chants and processions.[860] Two days later, London was visited
by a fearful wind, which blew down seven churches and houses to the
number of six hundred. Above all, the wooden roof of the church of
Saint Mary-le-bow was carried off, and its beams were hurled to the
ground with such force that they were driven into the hard earth, and
had to be sawn off as they stood.[861] Two men who were in the church
were crushed. The citizens could have hardly repaired their houses
before another blow came upon them. Early in the next year the greater
part of London was destroyed by fire.[862] By Eastertide the cathedral
churches of two of the dioceses whose seats had been moved in the late
reign stood ready for consecration. On the waterless hill which then
was Salisbury, within the everlasting ditches of the elder time,
looking down on the field of battle which had decreed that Britain
should be English[863] and on the field of council which had decreed
that England should be one,[864] Norman Osmund, the doctor of the
ritual lore of England, had finished the work which Lotharingian
Hermann had began. The new mother church of the lands of Berkshire,
Wiltshire, and Dorset, the elder minster of Saint Mary, whose stones
were borne away to build the soaring steeple of its successor but
whose foundations may still be traced on the turf of the forsaken
city, now awaited its hallowing. There was then no archbishop in
southern England; the rite was done by Osmund himself with the help of
his two nearest episcopal neighbours, Walkelin of Winchester and John
of Bath.[865] The ceremony had thus a specially West-Saxon character.
The three bishops who came together at Salisbury represented the
three――once four――churches, among which the old West-Saxon diocese,
the diocese of Winchester, had been parted asunder.[866] But at
Salisbury too, the elements, if somewhat less hostile than at
Winchcombe and London, were by no means friendly. Five days only after
the hallowing, the lightning fell, as at Winchcombe; the peaked roof
or low spire which sheltered the tower――doubtless of wood covered with
lead――was thrown down, and its fall did much damage to the walls of
the new minster.[867]
[Sidenote: Remigius of Lincoln.]
[Sidenote: Completion of the minster.]
[Sidenote: Thomas of York claims the jurisdiction of Lindesey.]
[Sidenote: Remigius wins over the King.]
[Sidenote: Gathering for the consecration at Lincoln. May 9, 1092.]
[Sidenote: Death of Remigius. May 6, 1092.]
A day later by a month had been fixed for another ceremony of the same
kind, the crowning of the work of a prelate who seems to have wished
for a more stately ceremony and a greater gathering than the almost
domestic rite which had satisfied Bishop Osmund. Remigius, Almoner of
Fécamp, Bishop of Dorchester, Bishop of Lincoln, was drawing near the
end of his famous episcopate. He had reformed the constitution of his
chapter and diocese; and we hear that he was no less zealous in
reforming the manners of his flock.[868] The darling sin of
Bristol――most likely the darling sin of every great trading-town――was
rife at Lincoln also; and Remigius, like Wulfstan, preached against
the wicked custom by which men sold their country-folk, sometimes
their kinsfolk, to a life of shame or of bondage in foreign
lands.[869] But beyond all this, he had finished his great work on the
hill of Lincoln; the elder church of Saint Mary had grown into the
great minster of which later rebuildings and enlargements have still
left us some small remnants.[870] The eastern limb had as yet no need
to overleap the Roman wall of Lindum; but Remigius had reared, and
sought to consecrate, no fragment, but a perfect church. His doorways
are there in the western front to show that the building has received
no enlargement on that side from Remigius’ day to our own. The work
was done, and its founder felt his last end coming. He was eager to
see the house which he had builded dedicated to its holy use before he
himself passed away. But an unlooked-for hindrance came. The only
archbishop in the land, Thomas of York, claimed the district in which
Remigius had built his church as belonging to his own diocese.[871]
This does not seem to have been by virtue of the claim that the whole
diocese of Dorchester came within his metropolitan jurisdiction.[872]
The argument was that Lindesey, won for the Christian faith by
Paullinus, won for the Northumbrian realm by Ecgfrith, was part of the
diocesan jurisdiction of the Bishop of York. And, whatever the truth
of the case might be, the warmest of all admirers of Remigius goes
some way to strengthen the doctrine of Thomas, when he speaks of
Lindesey almost as a conquered land won by the prowess of Remigius
from the Northumbrian enemy.[873] The time was not one for doubtful
disputations. Remigius, saint as he is pictured to us, knew how to use
those baser arguments which were convincing above all others in the
days of the Red King. His original appointment in the days of the
Conqueror had not been altogether beyond suspicion;[874] and it was
now whispered that it was by the help of a bribe that he won the
zealous adhesion of William Rufus to his cause. Rufus was at least
impartial; he was clearly ready to give a fair day’s work for a fair
day’s wages, and what he would do for a Jew he would also do for a
bishop. All the bishops of England were bidden by royal order to come
together at the appointed day for the dedication of the church of
Lincoln.[875] A vast crowd of men of all ranks came to Lincoln; the
course of the story suggests that the King himself was there; all the
bishops came, save one only. Robert of Hereford, the friend of
Wulfstan, the Lotharingian skilled in the lore of the stars, knew by
his science that the rite would not take place in the lifetime of
Remigius. He therefore deemed it needless to travel to Lincoln for
nothing.[876] His skill was not deceived; three days before the
appointed time Remigius died.[877] The dedication of the church was
delayed; it was done in the days of his successor, some years
later.[878] Meanwhile Remigius himself won the honours of a saint in
local esteem, and wonders of healing were wrought at his tomb for the
benefit of not a few of divers tongues and even of divers creeds.[879]
§ 5. _The Conquest and Colonization of Carlisle._
1092.
[Sidenote: William’s conquest of Carlisle.]
[Sidenote: Mistakes as to the position of Cumberland and
Westmoreland.]
It was seemingly from this fruitless gathering at Lincoln that William
the Red went forth to what was in truth the greatest exploit of his
reign. He went on a strange errand, to enlarge the bounds of England
by overthrowing the last shadow of independent English rule. Hitherto
the northern border of England had shown a tendency to fall back
rather than to advance, and a generation later the same tendency
showed itself again. But Rufus did what neither his father nor his
brother did; he enlarged the actual kingdom of England by the addition
of a new shire, a new earldom――in process of time a new bishopric――and
he raised as its capital a renewed city whose calling it was to be the
foremost bulwark of England in her northern wars. Whatever any other
spot on either side of the sea may be bound to do, Carlisle, city and
earldom, is bound to pay to the Red King the honours of a founder. And
the Saxon branch of the English people must see in him one who planted
a strong colony of their blood on the lands of men of other races,
kindred and alien. There is a certain amusement in seeing the endless
discussions in which men have entangled themselves in order to explain
the simple fact that Cumberland and Westmoreland are not entered in
Domesday, forgetful that it was just as reasonable to look for them
there as it would have been to look there for Caithness or the
Côtentin. Cumberland and Westmoreland, by those names, formed no part
of the English kingdom when the Conqueror drew up his Survey. Parts of
the lands so called, those parts which till recent changes formed
part, first of the diocese of York, afterwards of that of Chester, are
entered in Domesday in their natural place, as parts of Yorkshire.[880]
The other parts are not entered, for the simple reason that they were
then no part of the kingdom of England. It was now, in the third or
fourth year of William Rufus, that they became so.
[Sidenote: History of Carlisle.]
[Sidenote: 603-685.]
[Sidenote: Scandinavians in Cumberland.]
[Sidenote: Carlisle destroyed by Scandinavians.]
Lugubalia or _Caerluel_ was reckoned among the Roman cities of
Britain. It was reckoned too among the cities of the Northumbrian
realm, in the great days of that realm, from the victory of Æthelfrith
at Dægsanstan to the fall of Ecgfrith at Nectansmere.[881] Then the
Northumbrian power fell back from the whole land between Clyde and
Solway, and all trace of Lugubalia is lost in the confused history of
the land of the Northern Britons. Its site, to say the least, must
have formed part of that northern British land whose king and people
sought Eadward the Unconquered to father and lord.[882] It must have
formed part of that well nigh first of territorial fiefs which Eadmund
the Doer-of-great-deeds granted to his Scottish fellow-worker.[883] It
must have formed part of the under-kingdom which so long served as an
appanage for the heirs of Scottish kingship. But, amidst all these
changes, though the land passed under the over-lordship of the
Basileus of Britain, yet it never, from Ecgfrith to Rufus, passed
under the immediate dominion of any English king. And, as far as the
city itself was concerned, for the last two centuries before Rufus the
site was all that was left to pass to any one. The history of
Scandinavian influence in Cumberland is one of the great puzzles of
our early history. The Northman is there to speak for himself; but it
is not easy to say how and when he came there.[884] But one result of
Scandinavian occupation or Scandinavian inroad was the overthrow of
Lugubalia. We gather that it fell, as Anderida fell before Ælle and
Cissa, as Aquæ Solis fell before Ceawlin, as the City of the Legions
fell before Æthelfrith.[885] But now the son of the Conqueror was to
be to Lugubalia what the daughter of Ælfred had been to the City of
the Legions. The king who made the land of Carlisle English bade the
walls of Carlisle again rise, to fence in a city of men, a colony of
the Saxon land.
[Sidenote: Dolfin lord of Carlisle.]
At this moment the land of Carlisle, defined, as we can hardly doubt,
by the limits of the ancient diocese, was the only spot of Britain
where any man of English race ruled. Its prince, lord, earl――no
definite title is given him――was Dolfin the son of Gospatric, a scion
of the old Northumbrian princely house and sprung by female descent
from the Imperial stock of Wessex.[886] When or how Dolfin had got
possession of his lordship we know not; but it can hardly fail to have
been a grant from Malcolm, and it must have been held by him in the
character of a man of the Scottish king.
[Sidenote: Dolfin driven out, the city restored and the castle built.
1092.]
[Sidenote: The Saxon colony.]
[Sidenote: Supposed connexion with the making of the New Forest.]
We are not told whether either Dolfin or Malcolm had given any new
offence to William, or whether there was any other motive for the
King’s action at this moment. We can record only the event. Rufus went
northward with a great force to Carlisle. He drove out Dolfin; he
restored the forsaken city; he built the castle; he left a garrison in
it, and went southward again.[887] But this was not all. Not only was
the restored city to be a bulwark of England, but the conquered land
was to become a colony of Englishmen. Many churlish folk were sent
thither with wives and cattle, to dwell in the land and to till
it.[888] We thus see, what seems always to be forgotten in discussions
of Cumbrian ethnology, that, at least in the immediate district of
Carlisle, the last element in its mixed population was distinctly
Saxon.[889] Ingenious writers have guessed that the men who were now
settled at Carlisle were the very men who had been deprived of their
homes and lands at the making of the New Forest. There is no evidence
for this guess, and every likelihood is against it. Though I hold that
the dispossessed land-owners and occupiers of Hampshire are not an
imaginary class,[890] yet I cannot think that they can have formed so
large a class as to have gone any way towards colonizing even so small
a district as the old diocese of Carlisle. But it is plain that the
land needed inhabitants, and that the new inhabitants were sought for
in the south of England. In the Carlisle district then the order of
settlement among the races of Britain is different from what it is
anywhere else. Elsewhere it is Briton, Angle or Saxon, Dane or
Northman. Here, as far as one can see, the order must be Briton,
Angle, Pict, Northman, Saxon.
[Sidenote: The land and earldom of Carlisle.]
[Sidenote: History and character of the city.]
[Sidenote: Its analogy with Edinburgh and Stirling.]
[Sidenote: The wall and the castle.]
[Sidenote: Work of Rufus and Henry at Carlisle.]
The land now added to England is strictly the land of Carlisle. We do
not hear the names of Cumberland or Westmoreland till after the times
with which we are dealing. The restored city gave its name to the
land, to its earls, when it had earls, to its bishops when it had
bishops.[891] And truly of all the cities of England none is more
memorable in its own special way than that which now for the first
time became a city of united England. The local history of Carlisle
stands out beyond that of almost any other English city on the surface
of English history. It has not, as local history so often has; to be
dug out of special records by special research. Called into fresh
being to be the bulwark of England against Scotland, Carlisle remained
the bulwark of England against Scotland as long as England needed any
bulwark on that side. In every Scottish war, from Stephen to George
the Second, Carlisle plays its part. Nor is it perhaps unfit that a
city whose special work was to act as a check upon the Scot should
itself have in its general look somewhat of a Scottish character. The
site of the city and castle instinctively reminds us of the sites of
Edinburgh and Stirling. It is a likeness in miniature; but it is a
likeness none the less. The hill which is crowned by Carlisle castle
is lower than the hills which are crowned by the two famous Scottish
fortresses; but in all three cases the original city climbs the hill
whose highest point is crowned by the castle. At Carlisle the castle
stands at the northern end of the city, and its look-out over the
Eden, towards the Scottish march, is emphatically the look-out of a
sentinel. It looks out towards the land which so long was hostile; but
it looks out also on one spot which suggests the memories of times
when Scots, Picts, and Britons may have been there, but when they
found no English or Danish adversaries to meet them. The Roman wall
avoids Lugubalia itself, though the inner line of foss, which runs
some way south of the wall itself, is said to be traced along the line
which divides the castle from the city. But among the most prominent
points of view from the castle is Stanwix, the site of the nearest
Roman station, which seems to bear about it the memory of the stones
of the ancient builders. Here, on the brow of the hill, cut off by a
ditch like so many headlands of the same kind, on a site which had
doubtless been a place of strength for ages before the Roman came, the
Red King reared the new bulwark of his realm. Of the works of his age
there are still large remains; how much is the work of Rufus himself,
how much of his successor, it might be hard to say. The square keep is
there, though sadly disfigured by the unhappy use of the castle as a
barrack; a large part of the wall, both of city and castle, is still,
after many patchings and rebuildings, of Norman date; it is still in
many places plainly built out of Roman stones. Here and there one is
even tempted to think that some of those stones in the lower part of
the wall may have stood there since Carlisle was Lugubalia. Castle and
city bear about them the memories of many later times and many
stirring scenes in history. But on that spot we are most called on to
trace out, in church and city and castle, every scrap that reminds us
of the two founders of Carlisle, the two royal sons of the Conqueror.
The names which before all others live on that site are those of
William who raised up city and fortress from the sleep of ages, and of
Henry who completed the work by adding Carlisle to the tale of English
episcopal sees.[892]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Fortunes of Henry.]
[Sidenote: Domfront held by Robert of Bellême.]
[Sidenote: The men of Domfront choose Henry to lord. 1093.]
In the same year in which King William of England thus advanced and
strengthened the borders of his kingdom by strength of arms, his
youngest brother again became a ruler of men by a nobler title.
Whatever was the date or the length of Henry’s day of distress, it
came to an end about the time of the restoration of Carlisle. No call
could be more honourable than that which again set him in a place of
power. Among the many victims of Robert of Bellême were the people of
Domfront, the old conquest of William the Great. The castle had passed
into the hands of the tyrant, and grievous was the oppression which
Domfront and the coasts thereof suffered at his hands. The
inhabitants, under the lead of a chief man of the place, Harecher or
Archard by name, rose in revolt, and chose the banished Count of the
Côtentin as their lord and defender against the common enemy of
mankind. In company with this local patriot, Henry came to Domfront;
he accepted the offered lordship, and entered into the closest
relations with those who had chosen him. He bound himself to respect
all their local customs, and never to give them over to any other
master. Henry kept his word; amidst all changes, he clave to Domfront
for the rest of his days as a specially cherished possession.[893]
[Sidenote: Position of Domfront.]
It was indeed, both in its position and in its associations, a noble
starting-point for one who had to carve out a dominion for himself by
his wits or by his sword. It was a place of happy omen for a son of
William the Conqueror, as the place where his father first began to
deserve that title, his first possession beyond the elder bounds of
his own duchy.[894] Henry was now lord of the rocky peninsula, which,
impregnable as it had once been deemed, had yielded to the terror of
his father’s name, and where the donjon of his father’s rearing opened
its doors to receive his greatest son as a prince and a deliverer. On
one side, the Varenne flowed far beneath the rock, parting it from the
wilder rocks beyond the stream. On the other side, on the same level
as the castle, but with a slight dip between the two, just like the
dip which parts town and castle at Nottingham,[895] was the walled
town, in after days itself a mighty fortress, girded with double walls
and towers in thick array, and entered by a grim and frowning gateway
with two massive flanking towers grounded on the solid rock. But, of
all spots in the world, Domfront is one whose lord could never bear to
be lord of Domfront only. From few spots not fixed on actual Alps or
Pyrenees can the eye range over a wider prospect than it ranges over
from the castle steep of Henry’s new lordship. To the north the view
is by comparison shut in; but on this side lies the way into the true
heart of Normandy, to Caen and Bayeux and all that lies between. To
the west the eye catches the hills of the Avranchin; to the south the
land of Maine stretches far away, the land of his father’s victories
at Ambrières and at Mayenne, the land whose sight suggests that the
land of Anjou lies yet beyond it. To the south Henry might look on
lands which were to be the inheritance of his children; to the north
he looked on lands which were one day to be his own; but to the
south-west, towards Mortain and Avranches and the Archangel’s Mount,
his eye might light on a region some of the most famous spots of which
he was presently to win with his own right hand.
[Sidenote: Change in Henry’s affairs.]
[Sidenote: His old friends join him.]
[Sidenote: Earl Hugh.]
[Sidenote: Henry restored to William’s favour.]
[Sidenote: Henry at war with Robert.]
[Sidenote: He gets back his county.]
For the tide in Henry’s affairs turned fast, as soon as the wanderer
of the Vexin became the chosen lord of Domfront. His old friends in
his former principality began to flock around him once more. Earl Hugh
was again on his side, with Richard of Redvers and the rest.[896] And
he had now a mightier friend than all. King William of England soon
found out that he had not played a wise part for his own interests, or
at least for his own plans, in strengthening his elder brother at the
expense of the younger. He was now again scheming against Robert; he
therefore favoured the growth of the new power on the Cenomannian
border. It was with the Red King’s full sanction that Domfront became
the head-quarters of a warfare which Henry waged against both Roberts,
the Duke and the tyrant of Bellême.[897] He made many expeditions,
which were largely rewarded with plunder and captives, and in the
course of which some picturesque incidents happened which may call for
some notice later in our story.[898] For the present we are concerned
rather with the re-establishment of Henry’s power, of which his
possession of Domfront was at once the earnest and the beginning.
Favoured by William, helped by his former friends, Henry was soon
again a powerful prince, lord of the greater part of his old county of
Coutances and Avranches. And this dominion was secured on his southern
border by the occupation of another fortress almost as important as
Domfront itself, and no less closely connected with the memory of
Henry’s father.
[Sidenote: Castle of Saint James occupied by Henry.]
[Sidenote: Its position.]
[Sidenote: Slight remains of the castle.]
This was the castle of Saint James, the stronghold which the Conqueror
reared to guard the Breton march,[899] which stands close on that
dangerous frontier, in the southernmost part of the land of Avranches.
That hilly and wooded land puts on at this point a somewhat bolder
character. A peninsular hill with steep sides, and with a rushing
beck, the Beuvron, between itself and the opposite heights, was a
point which the eye of William the Great had marked out as a fitting
site for a border-castle. Yet the castle did not occupy the exact spot
where one would have looked for it. We should have thought to find it
at the very head of the promontory, commanding the valley on all
sides. It is so at Ballon; it is not so at Saint Cenery or at Conches.
But in a more marked way than either of these, the castle of Saint
James stood on one side of the hill, the south side certainly, the
side looking towards the dangerous land, but still not occupying the
most commanding position of all. In this choice of a site we may
perhaps see a mark of the Conqueror’s respect for religion. The
ecclesiastical name of the place shows that, in William’s day, the
church of Saint James already occupied the lofty site which its
successor still keeps. Castle-builders less scrupulous than the great
William might perhaps have ventured, like Geoffrey of Mayenne at Saint
Cenery,[900] to build their fortress on the holy ground. The Conqueror
had been content with the less favourable part of the hill, and at
Saint James, as at Conches, church and castle stood side by side. The
natural beauty of the site cannot pass away; the look-out over the
valley on either side is fairer and more peaceful now than it was in
William’s day; but every care has been taken to destroy or to mutilate
all that could directly remind us of the days when Saint James was a
stronghold of dukes and kings. The elder church has given way to a
structure strangely made up of modern buildings and ancient fragments.
The tower of the Conqueror still gives its name to the Place of the
Fort; but there are no such remains as we see in the shattered keep of
Domfront, hardly such remains as may be traced out at Saint Cenery and
on the Rock of Mabel. A line of wall to the south, strengthening the
scarped hill-side like the oldest walls of Rome, is all that is left
to speak to us of the castle which was William’s most famous work on
that border of his dominions. Nothing beyond these small scraps is
left of the fortress whose building led to that memorable march
against the Breton in which William and Harold fought as
fellow-soldiers.[901]
[Sidenote: The castle granted to Earl Hugh.]
We are not told what were Henry’s relations with Britanny at the time
when this great border fortress passed into his hands. Bretons had
been his only friends at the time of the siege of the Mount; but their
friendship for the Count of the Côtentin was perhaps felt for him, not
so much in that character as in that of the enemy of the Norman Duke
and the English King. It may possibly mark a feeling that the Celtic
peninsula might again become a dangerous land, when the guardianship
of the chief bulwark against the _Bretwealas_ of the mainland was
given to one who had full experience of warfare with the _Bretwealas_
of the great island. The Earl of Chester had a hereditary call to be
the keeper of the castle of Saint James. The fortress had, on its
first building, been entrusted by the Conqueror to the guardianship of
Earl Hugh’s father, the Viscount Richard of Avranches. Hugh’s treason
when King and Duke came against him was now forgotten; his earlier and
later services were remembered; and the restored prince, now once more
Count as well as Ætheling, granted the border castle, not as a mere
castellanship, but as his own proper fief, to the lord of the distant
City of the Legions.[902]
* * * * *
We have thus seen the power of William the Red firmly established on
both sides of the sea. He had received the homage of Scotland; he had
enlarged the bounds of England; he had won for himself a Norman
dominion hemming in the dominions which are left to the nominal
sovereign of the Norman land. And it is wonderful with how little
fighting all this had been done. It was only before the island rock of
Saint Michael that the chivalrous King had any opportunity of winning
renown by feats of chivalry. A year follows, crowded with events, but
all of them events which happened within the four seas of our own
island. Our next chapter will therefore deal mainly with English
affairs, and with some aspects of English affairs which yield in
importance to none in the whole history of England. One of the chief
personages of our story now comes before us in the form of the holy
Anselm. Few more striking personal contrasts are to be found in the
whole range of history than those parts of our tale where Anselm and
William meet face to face. But more memorable still, in a general
aspect of English history, is the work which has been silently going
on ever since William Rufus was made fast on his throne, the work
which stands broadly forth as a finished thing when the controversy
between King and Primate begins. Assuredly no “feudal system” was ever
introduced into England by any law of William the Great; but it is
only a slight stretch of language to say that something which, if any
one chooses, may be called a “feudal system” was, during these years,
devised in and for England by the craft and subtlety of Randolf
Flambard.
CHAPTER IV.
THE PRIMACY OF ANSELM AND THE ACQUISITION OF NORMANDY.[903]
1093-1097.
[Sidenote: Character of the early years of William Rufus. 1087-1092.]
[Sidenote: Chronological sequence of the history.]
[Sidenote: More complicated character of the next period. 1093-1098.]
[Sidenote: Three distinct sets of contemporary events.]
[Sidenote: Aspects of Rufus with regard to each.]
[Sidenote: Primacy of Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Affairs of Scotland and Wales.]
[Sidenote: Continental schemes.]
[Sidenote: Revolt of Robert of Mowbray. 1095.]
The story of the first five years of the Red King’s reign may be
written with little, if any, forsaking of strict chronological order.
The accession, the rebellion, the affairs of Normandy, the affairs of
Scotland, follow one another in successive or nearly successive years,
as the main subjects which challenge our attention. One set of events
leads to another. The rebellion followed naturally on the accession;
the interference of Rufus in Normandy followed naturally on the
rebellion; the Scottish invasion seems to have been the immediate
occasion of the banishment of Eadgar from Normandy. But during the
whole of the five years there is no great interlacing of different
parts of the main story; at no stage are two distinct sets of events
of equal moment going on at the same time; the historian is hardly
called on to forsake the arrangement of the annalist. While the events
recorded by the annalist were in doing, some of the greatest changes
in English history were silently going on; but they were not changes
of a kind which could be set down in the shape of annals. From the end
of the year which saw the restoration of Carlisle the nature of the
story changes. Different scenes of the drama of equal importance are
now acting at once. For the next five years we have three several
lines of contemporary story, which are now and then intertwined, but
which on the whole did not seriously affect one another. Each is best
told by itself, with as little reference to either of the others as
may be. And each begins in the year of which we have now reached the
threshold. The sixth year of William Rufus saw the beginning of the
primacy of Anselm, the beginning of the main dealings of the reign
with Wales and Scotland, the beginning of renewed interference in the
Norman duchy. It will be well to keep these three lines of narrative
as distinct as may be. They show the Red King in three different
characters. In the first story he appears as the representative of the
new form which the kingship of England has taken with reference both
to temporal and to spiritual matters within the kingdom. In the second
story we see him asserting the powers of the English crown beyond the
kingdom of England, but within the island of Britain. And here,
alongside of the affairs of Scotland, perhaps not very closely
connected with them by any chain of cause and effect, but forming one
general subject with them as distinguished alike from purely domestic
and from continental affairs, will come the relations between England
and Wales during the reign of William Rufus. In the third story we see
the beginning of the events which led to those wider schemes of
continental policy which almost wholly occupy the last three years of
the reign. One event only of much moment stands apart from the general
thread of any of the three stories. It stands by itself, as one of
those events which might easily have led to great changes, but which,
as a matter of fact, passed away without much result. This is the
conspiracy and revolt of Robert of Mowbray and William of Eu, which
may, dramatically at least, be connected with either the Scottish or
the Norman story, but which, as a matter of actual English history,
stands apart from all.
[Sidenote: Relations between Rufus and Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Working of the new ideas.]
[Sidenote: New position of the King.]
[Sidenote: Ecclesiastical position of the Conqueror.]
[Sidenote: William and Lanfranc.]
[Sidenote: Opposite conduct of Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Vacancy of the see of Canterbury. 1089-1093.]
[Sidenote: Its policy.]
[Sidenote: Influence of Randolf Flambard.]
Of these three the first on the list must claim the precedence. The
relations between Rufus and Anselm involve the whole civil and
ecclesiastical policy of the reign. The dispute between King and
Primate was the outcome of all that had been working in silence while
the Red King was winning castles in Normandy, receiving the homage of
Scotland, and enlarging the bounds of England. During those years one
side of the results of the Norman Conquest was put into formal shape.
Between the fall of Rochester and the restoration of Carlisle, new
ideas, new claims, had come to their full growth. Those ideas, those
claims, had made the kingship of William the Red something marked by
not a few points of difference from the kingship either of the
Confessor or of the Conqueror. Nowhere does the difference between the
elder and the younger William stand forth more clearly than in their
dealings with the spiritual power. No king, as I have often shown, was
more truly Supreme Governor of the Church within his realm than was
the Conqueror of England, her defender against the claims of Rome. But
William the Great sought and found his fellow-worker in all things in
an archbishop likeminded with himself. We can hardly conceive the
reign of the Conqueror without the primacy of Lanfranc. But the great
object of William the Red was to avoid the restraints which could not
fail to be placed upon his self-will, if he had one standing at his
side whose place it was to be at once the chief shepherd of the
English Church and the tribune of the English people. For three years
and more from the death of Lanfranc the see of Canterbury remained
vacant. Such a vacancy was without precedent; but it was designed
itself to become a precedent. It was by no accident, from no momentary
cause, that William delayed the appointment of any successor to his
old guardian and counsellor. It was part of a deliberate policy
affecting the whole ecclesiastical and civil institutions of the
realm. And that policy, there can be little doubt, was the device of a
single subtle and malignant genius by whom the whole internal
administration of the Red King’s reign was guided.
§ 1. _The Administration of Randolf Flambard._
1089-1099.
[Sidenote: Early history of Flambard.]
[Sidenote: Said to have been settled in England T. R. E.]
[Sidenote: Said to have been in the service of Bishop Maurice [Bishop
of London 1086-1107].]
[Sidenote: Said to have held the deanery of Twinham.]
[Sidenote: Preferments held by the clerks of kings and bishops.]
[Sidenote: Flambard a priest.]
[Sidenote: Character of Flambard.]
The chief minister, if we may so call him, of William Rufus, during
these years, and indeed to the end of his reign, was that Randolf
Flambard or Passeflambard of whom we have already heard.[904] His
early history is not easy to trace, beyond the general fact that he
rose to power by the same path by which so many others rose in his
day, by service in the King’s chapel and chancery.[905] It has been
generally thought that he was settled in England as early as the days
of Eadward; but it may be doubted whether the evidence bears out this
belief. And the course of his life is certainly easier to understand,
if we do not bring him into England so soon, or attribute to him so
great a length of life, as we must do if we look on him as having been
already a land-owner in England before the Conquest.[906] On the other
hand, if we accept the story which makes him pass to the King’s
service from the service of Maurice Bishop of London, he must have
been the King’s clerk for so short a time before the death of the
Conqueror as hardly to give room for the usual stages of official
promotion. Another version places him in the King’s service from his
earliest years.[907] Perhaps we may guess that the name of the Bishop
of London is wrongly given, and that Flambard had really been in the
service of one of Maurice’s predecessors, of Hugh of Orival or of the
more famous William. His reason for leaving his episcopal patron is
said to have been that a deanery which he held was taken from him, a
story which oddly connects itself with another, according to which he
was at one time dean or other head of the canons of Twinham――better
known as Christchurch――in Hampshire.[908] The story, true or false,
like the earlier life of Thomas of London, illustrates the way in
which the highest ecclesiastical preferments short of bishoprics and
abbeys were held by these clerical servants of kings and bishops.
Clerical they often were only in the widest sense; they were sometimes
merely tonsured, and they seldom took priest’s orders till they were
themselves promoted to bishoprics.[909] Randolf Flambard however was a
priest;[910] he could therefore discharge the duties of his deanery in
person, if he ever troubled himself to go near it. Otherwise there was
very little of the churchman, or indeed of the Christian, about the
future Bishop of Durham and builder of Saint Cuthberht’s nave. At all
events it was wholly by his personal qualities, such as they were,
that Randolf Flambard made his way to the highest places in Church and
State. In his day the Church supplied the readiest opening for the
service of the State, and service to the State was again rewarded by
all but the highest honours of the Church.
[Sidenote: His parents.]
[Sidenote: The name _Flambard_.]
[Sidenote: His financial skill.]
[Sidenote: Mention of him in the Conqueror’s reign.]
[Sidenote: His share in Domesday.]
[Sidenote: His rise under Rufus.]
The man who was practically to rule England had at least little
advantage on the score of birth. He is set before us as the son of a
low-born priest in the diocese of Bayeux and of a mother who bore the
character of a witch, and who was reported to have lost an eye through
the agency of the powers with which she was too familiar.[911]
Handsome in person, ready of wit, free of speech and of hand,
unlearned, loose of life, clever and unscrupulous in business of every
kind, he made friends and he made enemies; but he rose. The surname
which cleaves to him in various shapes and spellings is said to have
been given to him in the court of the Conqueror by the _dispenser_
Robert, because he pushed himself on at the expense of his betters,
like a burning flame.[912] But his genius lay most of all in the
direction of finance, in days when finance meant to transfer, by
whatever means, the greatest amount of the subject’s money into the
coffers of the King. One story describes him as sent on such an errand
by the Conqueror into the lands of his future bishopric, and as
smitten for his crime by the wonder-working hand of Saint Cuthberht
himself.[913] There is every reason to believe that he had a hand in
drawing up the Great Survey.[914] But, while William the Great lived,
he seems not to have risen to any high place. Towards the end of his
reign the Conqueror did begin to give away bishoprics to his own
clerks,[915] but still hardly to such clerks as Randolf Flambard. Nor
did the Conqueror need a minister, in the sense of needing one who
should in some sort fill his place and exercise his powers. The elder
William could rule his kingdom himself, or at most with the advice of
the special counsellor whom ancient custom gave him in the person of
Lanfranc. But the younger William, sultan-like in his mood, needed,
like other sultans, the help of a vizier. And he found the fittest of
all viziers for his purpose in the supple clerk from the Bessin.
[Sidenote: His alleged new Domesday.]
[Sidenote: His official position.]
[Sidenote: He holds the Justiciarship.]
[Sidenote: Growth of the office under him.]
[Sidenote: His “driving” of the Gemóts.]
[Sidenote: He loses his land for the New Forest.]
[Sidenote: His zeal for the King’s interests.]
The reign of Flambard seems to have begun as soon as Lanfranc was
gone. He thoroughly suited the Red King’s views. He was ready to
gather in wealth for his master from every quarter; he knew how to
squeeze the most out of rich and poor; when a tax of a certain amount
was decreed, he knew how to make it bring in double its nominal
value.[916] He alone thoroughly knew his art; no one else, said the
laughing King, cared so little whose hatred he brought on himself, so
that he only pleased his master.[917] He stands charged in one account
of his deeds with declaring the Great Survey to be drawn up on
principles not favourable enough to the royal hoard, and with causing
it to be supplanted by a new inquisition which made the Red King
richer than his father.[918] This story is very doubtful; but it is
thoroughly in character. In any case Flambard rose to the highest
measure both of power and of official dignity that was open to him.
His office and its duties are described in various ways; in that age
official titles and functions were less accurately distinguished than
they were a little later.[919] But there seems no doubt that Flambard,
the lawyer whom none could withstand,[920] held the formal office of
Justiciar. Till his time that post had not, as a distinct office,
reached the full measure of its greatness. It was Flambard himself who
raised it to the height of power and dignity which accompanied it when
it was held by Roger of Salisbury and Randolf of Glanville. He was to
the post of Justiciar what Thomas of London two generations later was
to the post of Chancellor; he was the man who knew how to magnify his
office.[921] In that office “he drave all the King’s gemóts over all
England.”[922] The King’s thegns who had come to the local assembly on
the King’s errand in the days of Æthelred and Cnut[923] had now grown
into a mighty and terrible power. How Flambard drave the gemóts we
learn elsewhere. He was fierce alike to the suppliant and to the
rebel.[924] Suppliant and rebel alike were in his eyes useful only as
means for further filling the mighty chest at Winchester. Strangely
enough, he himself, clerk and Norman as he was, had found neither
birth nor order protect him when the Conqueror had needed a part of
his land for the creation of the New Forest.[925] On the principle
that man is ever most ready to inflict on others the wrongs which he
has borne himself, Flambard, who himself in some sort ranked among the
disinherited, was of all ministers of the royal will the most eager to
draw the heritage of every man, without respect to birth or order,
into the hands of the master whom he served too faithfully.
[Sidenote: His changes and exactions systematic.]
[Sidenote: His alleged spoliation of the rich.]
[Sidenote: His dealings with the Ætheling Henry.]
[Sidenote: Witness of the Chronicle.]
[Sidenote: The King to be every man’s heir.]
[Sidenote: Flambard’s lasting burthens and exactions.]
But we shall altogether misunderstand both Flambard and his master, if
we take either of them for vulgar spoilers, living as it were from
hand to mouth, and casually grasping any sources of gain which chanced
to be thrown in their way. Whatever Flambard did he did according to
rule and system; nay more, he did it according to the severest rules
of logic. Amidst the vague declamations which set him before us as the
general robber of all men, we light on particular facts and phrases
which give us the clue to the real nature of his doings. It is worth
notice that, in more than one picture, the rich are enlarged on as the
special victims of his extortions; in one the Ætheling Henry himself
is spoken of as having suffered deeply at his hands.[926] We may guess
that this has some special reference to the way in which Henry was
defrauded of the lands of his mother, a business in which Flambard is
likely enough to have had a share.[927] These references to the wrongs
done to the rich have their significance; they point to a cunningly
devised system of Flambard’s, by which, the greater a man’s estate
was, the more surely was he marked for extortion. The legislation of
Flambard, if we can call that legislation which seems never to have
been set down in any formal statute,[928] was not at all of the kind
which catches the small flies and lets the large ones get through. As
we have seen in some other cases,[929] a seemingly casual expression
of our native Chronicler is the best record of a matter of no small
constitutional importance. The Red King “would be ilk man’s heir,
ordered and lewd.”[930] In those words lay the whole root of the
matter. The great work of the administration of Flambard, the great
work of the reign of Rufus, was to put in order a system of rules by
which the King might be the heir of every man. Those few words, which
might seem to have dropped from the Chronicler in a moment of
embittered sarcasm, do indeed set forth the formal beginning of a
series of burthens and exactions under which Englishmen, and
preeminently the rich and noble among Englishmen, groaned for not much
less than six hundred years after Flambard’s days.
[Sidenote: The Feudal Tenures.]
[Sidenote: Abolished 1660.]
[Sidenote: Tenure in chivalry.]
[Sidenote: Wardship.]
[Sidenote: Marriage.]
[Sidenote: Dealings with bishoprics and abbeys.]
[Sidenote: Agency of Flambard in systematizing the feudal tenures.]
[Sidenote: The evidence.]
[Sidenote: Henry’s charters.]
[Sidenote: Importance of seemingly casual phrases.]
In short the “unrighteousness” ordained by William Rufus and Randolf
Flambard[931] are no other than those feudal tenures and feudal
burthens which even the Parliament which elected Charles the Second,
in the midst of its self-abasement and betrayal of its own ancient
rights, declared to have been “much more burthensome, grievous, and
prejudicial to the kingdom than they have been beneficial to the
king.”[932] Assuredly they were as burthensome, grievous, and
prejudicial to the kingdom in the eleventh century as they were in the
seventeenth; but assuredly they were found in the eleventh century to
be highly beneficial to the King, or they would not have been ordained
by Rufus and Flambard. We have reached the age of chivalry; and tenure
in chivalry, with all its mean and pettifogging incidents, was put
into a systematic form for the special benefit of the coffers of the
king who was before all things the good knight, the _preux chevalier_,
the _probus miles_. The King “would be the heir of ilk man, ordered
and lewd.” To that end the estate of the minor heir was to be made a
prey; he was himself to be begged and granted and sold like an ox or
an ass;[933] the heiress, maid or widow, was in the like sort to be
begged and granted, sold into unwilling wedlock, or else forced to pay
the price which a chivalrous tenure demanded for the right either to
remain unmarried or to marry according to her own will. The bishopric
or the abbey was to be left without a pastor, and its lands were to be
let to farm for the King’s profit, because the King would be the heir
of the priest as well as of the layman. That all this, in its fully
developed and systematic form, was the work of Randolf Flambard, I
hope I may now assume. I have argued the point at some length
elsewhere,[934] and I need not now do more than pass lightly over some
of the main points. Certain tendencies, certain customs, of which,
under the Conqueror and even before the Conqueror, we see the germs,
but only the germs, appear at the accession of Henry the First as
firmly established rules, which Henry does not promise wholly to
abolish, while he does promise to redress their abuses. It follows
that they had put on their systematic shape in the intermediate time,
that is, during the reign of Rufus. One of these abuses, that which
for obvious reasons was most largely dwelled on by our authorities,
namely the new way of dealing with ecclesiastical property, is
distinctly spoken of as a novelty, and a novelty of Flambard’s
devising. The obvious inference is that the whole system, a system
which logically hangs together in the most perfect way, was the device
of the same subtle and malignant brain. And having got thus far, we
are now enabled to see the full force of those seemingly casual
expressions in the writers of the time of which I have already spoken.
It was the royal claims of relief, of wardship, and marriage,
systematically and mercilessly enforced, no less than the royal claim
to enjoy the fruits of vacant ecclesiastical benefices, which are
branded in Latin as the _injustitiæ_ of Rufus and Flambard, and which
in our own tongue take the shape of the King’s claim to be the heir of
every man.
[Sidenote: Flambard’s theory of land-holding.]
[Sidenote: Relief and redemption.]
[Sidenote: Dealings with men’s wills.]
[Sidenote: Older theory of wills.]
This last pithy phrase takes in all the new claims which were now set
up over all lands, whether held by spiritual or temporal owners, and,
in some cases at least, over personal property also. All the
“unrighteousnesses,” all “the evil customs,” which the charter of
Henry promises to reform[935] come under this one head. In Flambard’s
system of tenure there could be no such thing as an ancient _eðel_ or
_allod_, held of no lord, and burthened only with such payments or
duties as the law might lay upon its owner. With him all land was in
the strictest sense _loanland_.[936] The owner had at most a
life-interest in it; at his death it fell back to the king, for the
king was to be the heir of every man. The king might grant it to the
son of the last owner; but, if so, it was by a fresh grant,[937] for
which the new grantee had to pay. And the terms of Henry’s charter
imply that the payment was arbitrary and extortionate. Henry promises
that the heir of a tenant-in-chief shall not be constrained to
_redeem_――to buy back――his father’s lands as had been done in his
brother’s time; he shall _relieve_ them by a just and lawful
relief.[938] Under Rufus then it was held that the land had, by the
former holder’s death, actually passed to the king, as the common heir
of all men, and that, if the son or other representative of the former
holder wished to possess it, he must, in the strictest sense, buy it
back from the king. Henry acknowledges the rights of the heir, while
still maintaining the theory of the fresh grant. The heir is not to
_redeem_――to buy back――his father’s land; he is merely to _relieve_
it――to take it up again, and he is to pay only the sum prescribed by
legal custom, the equivalent of the ancient heriot or the modern
succession-duty. So it is with personal property. The Red King, it is
plain, claimed to be the heir of men’s money, as well as of their
land. For one of Henry’s promised reforms is that the wills of his
barons and others his men shall stand good, that their money shall go
to the purposes to which they may have bequeathed it, and that, if
they die without wills, their wives, children, kinsfolk, or lawful
men, shall dispose of it as they may think best for the dead man’s
soul.[939] Such a reform could not have been needed unless William
Rufus had been in the habit of interfering with men’s free right of
bequest. And it might have been plausibly argued that the right of
bequest was no natural right of man, that the most ancient legal
doctrine both of Rome and of England was that a will was an
exceptional act, which needed the confirmation of the sovereign power.
If such a doctrine had anyhow come to the knowledge of Flambard, it
would assuredly seem to him a natural inference that no such
confirmation should be granted save at such a price as the king might
see fit to demand.
[Sidenote: Wardship.]
[Sidenote: Its logical character.]
[Sidenote: Its oppressive working.]
But of all the devices of Flambard, there was one which, it would
seem, was specially his own, one which was at once the most oppressive
of all and that which followed most logically from the nature of
feudal tenure. This was the lord’s right of wardship. This claim
starts from the undoubted doctrine that the fief is after all only a
conditional possession of its holder, that he holds it only on the
terms of discharging the military service which is due from it.
Nothing was easier than to argue that, when the fief passed to an heir
who was from his youth incapable of discharging that service, the fief
should go back into the lord’s hands till the heir had reached the
time of life when he could discharge it. The abuses and oppressions
which such a right led to need hardly be dwelled on; they are written
in every page of our legal history from the days of Rufus to the days
of Charles the First. Nothing now enriches an estate like a long
minority; in those times the heir, when at last he came into
possession, found his estate impoverished in every way by the
temporary occupation of the king or of the king’s favourite to whom
the wardship had been granted or sold. Yet it cannot be denied that
the argument by which the right of wardship was established was, as a
piece of legal argument, quite unanswerable. And of all the feudal
exactions certainly none was more profitable. The tenant-in-chief who
died, perhaps fighting in the king’s cause, and who left an infant son
behind him, had the comfort of thinking that his estate would, perhaps
for the next twenty years, go to enrich the coffers of his sovereign.
On this head Henry speaks less clearly than he speaks on some other
points; but his words certainly seem to imply that the wardship of the
tenant-in-chief was to go, not to the king, but to the mother or to
some kinsman.[940] If so, either Henry himself or his successors
thought better of the matter. The right of wardship, as a privilege of
the king or other lord, appears in full force in the law-book of
Randolf of Glanville.[941]
[Sidenote: Extent of Flambard’s changes.]
[Sidenote: Wardship and marriage special to England and Normandy.]
[Sidenote: The two sides of feudalism.]
[Sidenote: England in what sense feudal.]
[Sidenote: Flambard the lawgiver of English feudalism.]
When we attribute all these exactions and “unrighteousnesses” to the
device of Flambard, it is of course not meant that they were
altogether unheard of either before his day or beyond the lands over
which his influence reached. Traces of these claims, or of some of
them, are to be found wherever and whenever feudal notions about the
tenure of land had crept in. All that is meant is that claims which
were vaguely growing up were put by Flambard into a distinct and
systematic shape. What William the Great did on occasion, for reasons
of state, William the Red did as a matter of course, as an ordinary
means of making money.[942] And it is significant that two of the most
oppressive of these claims, that of wardship and the kindred claim of
marriage, were, in their fully developed shape, peculiar or nearly so
to the lands where Rufus reigned and Flambard governed, to the English
kingdom and the Norman duchy.[943] I have said elsewhere that, of the
two sides of feudalism, our Norman kings carefully shut out the side
which tended to weaken the royal power, and carefully fostered the
side which tended to strengthen it.[944] Both sides of this process
were busily at work during the reign of Rufus. The great law of the
Conqueror, the law of Salisbury, which decreed that duty to the king
should come before all other duties, was practically tried and
practically confirmed in the struggle which showed that no man in
England was strong enough to stand against the king.[945] England was
not to become feudal in the sense in which Germany and France became
feudal. But in all those points where the doctrines of feudal tenure
could be turned to the king’s enrichment, England became of all lands
the most feudal. Enactor of no statute, author of no code or law-book,
Randolf Flambard was in effect the lawgiver of feudalism, so far as
that misleading word has any meaning at all on English soil.
[Sidenote: Flambard’s oppression falls most directly on the greatest
estates.]
[Sidenote: No special oppression of the native English.]
[Sidenote: Indirect oppression of other classes.]
[Sidenote: Dealings of the tenants-in-chief with their under-tenants.]
[Sidenote: Strange submission of the nobles.]
[Sidenote: Position of the king’s clerks.]
[Sidenote: The reign of unlaw.]
[Sidenote: General submission.]
All this exactly falls in with those phrases in our authorities which
speak of Flambard as the spoiler of the rich, the plunderer of the
inheritances of other men. It also bears out what I have said
already,[946] that there is no evidence to show that Rufus was a
direct oppressor of the native English as such. The subtle devices of
tyranny of which we have just spoken directly concerned those only who
were the King’s tenants-in-chief. That is to say, they touched a class
of estates which were far more largely in Norman than in English
hands. Most likely, even in that reign, a numerical majority of the
King’s tenants-in-chief would have been found to be of English blood.
But such a majority would have been chiefly made up of the very
smallest members of the class; the greater landowners, those whose
wrongs, under such a system, would be, if not heavier, at least more
conspicuous, were mainly the conquerors of Senlac or their sons. It
was a form of oppression which would strike men as specially falling
upon the rich. A special meaning is thus given to phrases which might
otherwise be thought to be merely those common formulæ which, in
speaking of any evil which affects all classes, join rich and poor
together. The devices of Flambard were specially aimed at the rich.
The great mass of the English people, and that large class of Normans
who held their lands, not straight of the king but of some
intermediate lord, were touched by them only when the lords who
suffered by Flambard’s exactions tried to make good their own losses
by exactions of the same kind on their own tenants. That they did so
is shown by the reforming charter of Henry. When he promises to deal
fairly and lawfully by his barons and his other men in the matters of
relief and marriage, he demands that his barons shall deal fairly and
lawfully by their men in the like cases.[947] But in the first
instance it was mainly the rich, mainly the Normans, whom the feudal
devices of Flambard touched. And it is not the least strange thing in
these times to see a race of warlike and high-spirited nobles,
conquerors or sons of conquerors, submit to so galling a yoke, a yoke
which must have been all the more galling when we think of the origin
and position of the man by whom it was devised. We cannot think that
the king’s clerks were ever a popular body with any class, high or
low, native or foreign. Their position appealed to no sentiment of any
kind, military, religious, or national; their rule rather implied the
treading under foot of all such sentiments. The military tenants must
have looked on them with the dislike which men of the sword, specially
in such an age, are apt to look on the rule of men of the pen. In the
eyes of strict churchmen they must have passed for ungodly scorners of
the decencies of their order. To the mass of the people they must have
seemed foreign extortioners, and nothing more. They represented the
power of the king, and nothing else. In some states of things the
power of the king, even of a despotic king, may be welcomed as the
representative of law against force. But under Rufus the power of the
king was before all things the representative of unlaw. Yet though all
murmured, all submitted. The son of the poor priest of the Bessin,
clothed with a power purely official, lorded it over all classes and
orders. Earls, prelates, and people, were alike held down by the guide
and minister of the royal will.
[Sidenote: Position of Rufus favourable for his schemes.]
[Sidenote: Effect on national unity.]
One cause of this general submission is doubtless to be found in the
immediate circumstances of the time. The alliance of the King and the
English people had for the moment broken the power of the Norman
nobles. The ecclesiastical estate was left without a head by the death
of Lanfranc. The popular estate was left without a head, as soon as
the King turned away from the people who had given him his crown, and
broke all the promises that he had made to them. There was no power of
combination; the great days when nobles, clergy, and commons, could
join together against the king, as three orders in one nation, were
yet far distant. Each class had to bear its own grievances as it
could; no class could get any help from any other class; and the
King’s picked mercenaries, kept at the expense of all classes, were
stronger than any one class by itself. Yet we cannot doubt that even
the rule of Rufus and Flambard did something towards the great work of
founding national unity. All the inhabitants of the land, if they had
nothing else in common, had common grievances and a common oppressor.
For a moment we can believe that the English people would feel a
certain pleasure in seeing the men who had once conquered them and
whom they had more lately conquered, brought under the yoke, and under
such a yoke as that of Flambard. But such a feeling would be
short-lived compared with the far deeper feeling of common grievances
and common enmities.
[Sidenote: Other forms of exaction.]
[Sidenote: Working of the old laws.]
[Sidenote: “Driving” of the Gemóts.]
[Sidenote: Witness of Henry’s charter.]
For the yoke of Flambard was one which, in different ways, pressed on
all classes. If the native English, and the less wealthy men
generally, were less directly touched by his feudal legislation than
those who ranked above them, Flambard had no mind to let poor men, or
native Englishmen, or any other class of men, go scot free. If his new
devices pressed mainly on the great, he knew how to use the old forms
of law so as to press on great and small alike. No one was too high,
no one was too low, for the ministers of the King’s Exchequer to keep
their eyes on him. No source of profit was deemed too small or too
mean, if the coffers of a chivalrous king could be filled by it. If
Flambard sought to seize upon every man’s heritage, he also _drave_
all the King’s gemóts over all England. We have no details; but it is
easy to see how the ancient assemblies, and the judicial and
administrative business which was done in them, might be turned into
instruments of extortion. We have seen that the worst criminals could
win their pardon by a bribe,[948] and means might easily be found, by
false charges and by various tricks of the law, for wringing money out
of the innocent as well as the guilty. We may again turn to Henry’s
charter. It is a very speaking clause which forgives all “pleas” and
debts due to his brother, except certain classes of them which were
held to be due of lawful right.[949] In the days of Rufus and Flambard
the presumption was that a demand made on behalf of the crown was
unlawful.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Dealings with church property.]
[Sidenote: Appointment and investiture of bishops and abbots.]
[Sidenote: Grant of the temporalities by the king.]
[Sidenote: Church lands become fiefs.]
[Sidenote: Flambard’s inferences.]
[Sidenote: Analogy between lay and ecclesiastical fiefs.]
[Sidenote: Vacant prelacies held by the King.]
[Sidenote: Power of prolonging the vacancy.]
[Sidenote: Sale of bishoprics and abbeys.]
[Sidenote: Innovations of Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Earlier cases of simony.]
[Sidenote: Not systematic before Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Treatment of vacant churches.]
[Sidenote: Flambard the chief agent.]
But there is one form of the exactions of the Red King which, for
obvious reasons, stands forth before all others in the pages of the
writers of the time. When the King would be the heir of every man, he
was fully minded to be the heir of the clerk or the monk as well as of
the layman. And Flambard, priest and chaplain as he was, had no mind
to sacrifice the interests of his master to the interests of his
order. By his suggestion William began early in his reign, as soon as
the influence of Lanfranc was withdrawn, to make himself in a special
way the heir of deceased bishops and abbots. These great spiritual
lords were among the chief land-owners of the kingdom. The kings
therefore naturally claimed to have a voice in their appointment. They
invested the new prelate with his ring and staff; and this right, so
fiercely denied to the successor of Augustus, was exercised without
dispute by the successor of Cerdic and Rolf.[950] The new prelate
received, by the king’s writ, as a grant from the king, the temporal
possessions which were attached to the spiritual office.[951] We have
seen that this action on the part of the king by no means wholly shut
out action either on the part of the local ecclesiastical body or on
the part of the great council of the kingdom.[952] But it was from the
king personally that the newly chosen or newly nominated prelate
received the actual investiture of his office and its temporalities.
The temporalities with which he was invested might have their special
rights and privileges; but at least they were not exempt from the
three burthens which no land could escape, among which was the duty of
providing men for military service in case of need.[953] As feudal
ideas grew, the inference was easy that lands granted by the king and
charged with military service were a fief held of the king by a
military tenure. We have seen signs of change in that direction in the
days of the Conqueror;[954] in the days of Rufus the doctrine was
fully established, and it was pushed to its logical results by the
lawyer-like ingenuity of Flambard. If the lands held by a bishop or
abbot were a fief held by military tenure, they must be liable to the
same accidents as other fiefs of the same kind. When a bishop or abbot
died, or otherwise vacated his office, the result was the same as when
the lay holder of a fief died without leaving an heir of full age.
There was the fief; but there was no one ready to perform the duties
with which it was charged. The fief must therefore fall back to the
lord till it should be granted afresh to some one who could discharge
those duties. The king thus, in the words of the Chronicler, became
the heir of the deceased bishop or abbot, even more thoroughly than he
became the heir of the deceased baron or other lay tenant-in-chief.
For in the latter case, except when the late holder’s family became
extinct by his death, there was always some one person who had by all
law and custom a right above all other men to succeed him. The son or
other natural successor might be constrained to buy back the lands of
the _ancestor_,[955] or, if a minor, he might be kept out of them till
his time of wardship was over. Still even Flambard would have allowed
that such a natural successor had, if he could pay the price demanded,
a claim upon the land which was not shared by any one else. But on the
lands of a deceased bishop or abbot no man, even of his own order, had
any better claim than another till such a claim was created by
election or nomination. The king was the only heir; the lands and all
the other property of the vacant office passed into his hands; and, as
no election or nomination could hold good without his consent, it was
in his power to prolong his possession as heir as long as he thought
good. That is to say, by the new device of Flambard, when a bishop or
abbot died, the king at once entered on his lands, and kept them as
long as the see or abbey remained vacant. And, as it rested with the
king when the see or abbey should be filled, he could prolong the
vacancy for any time that he thought good. And William Rufus commonly
thought good to prolong the vacancy till some one offered him such a
price in ready money as made it worth his while to put an end to
it.[956] The result was that, in the words of the Chronicler, “God’s
Church was brought low.”[957] The great ecclesiastical offices, as
they fell vacant, were either kept vacant for the King’s profit, or
else were sold for his profit to men who, by the very act of buying
them, were shown to be unworthy to hold them.[958] We are distinctly
told that this practice was an innovation of the days of Rufus, and
that it was an innovation of which Flambard was the author.[959] The
charge of simony, like all other charges of bribery and corruption, is
often much easier to bring than to disprove; but it is not likely to
be spoken of as a systematic practice, unless it undoubtedly happened
in a good many cases. We have come across cases in our earlier history
where it was at least suspected that ecclesiastical offices had been
sold, or, what proves even more, that they were looked on as likely to
be sold.[960] And that the practice was common among continental
princes there can be little doubt. But there is nothing to make us
believe that it was at all systematic in England at any earlier time,
and the Conqueror at all events was clear from all scandal of the
kind. But the chain of reasoning devised by Flambard would make it as
fair a source of profit for the king to take money on the grant of a
bishopric as to take it on the grant of a lay fief. And there is no
reason to doubt that Rufus systematically acted on this principle, and
that, save at the moment of his temporary repentance, he seldom or
never gave away a bishopric or abbey for nothing. The other point of
the charge, that bishoprics and abbeys were kept vacant while the king
received the profits, was not a matter of surmise or suspicion, but a
matter of fact open to all men. When a prelate died, one of the king’s
clerks was sent to take down in writing a full account of all his
possessions. All was taken into the king’s hands. Sometimes the king
granted out the lands for money or on military tenure, in which case
the new prelate, when one was appointed, might have some difficulty in
getting them back.[961] In other cases the king kept the property in
his own hands, letting it out at the highest rent that he could get,
and, as his father did with the royal demesnes, at once making void
his bargains if a higher price was offered.[962] In the case of the
abbeys and of those churches of secular canons where the episcopal and
capitular estates were not yet separated, the king took the whole
property of the church, and allowed the monks or canons only a
wretched pittance.[963] We have seen that, in one case where local
gratitude has recorded that he did otherwise, it is marked as an
exception to his usual practice.[964] And, in all these doings,
Flambard, as he was the deviser of the system, was its chief
administrator. The vacant prelacies were put under his management; he
extorted, for his own profit and for the king’s, such sums both from
the monks or clergy and from the tenants of the church lands that they
all said that it was better to die than to live.[965]
[Sidenote: The practice a new one.]
[Sidenote: The olden practice.]
[Sidenote: Tenure in _frank-almoign_.]
[Sidenote: Odo Abbot of Chertsey resigns, 1092.]
[Sidenote: Restored by Henry, 1100.]
These doings on the part of Rufus are by the writers of the time put
in marked contrast with the practice of earlier kings, and especially
with the practice of his own father. As the old and inborn kings had
done nothing of the kind, so neither had the Conqueror from beyond
sea. In their days, when an abbot or bishop died, his spiritual
superior, the bishop of the diocese or the archbishop of the province,
administered the estates of his church during the vacancy, bestowing
the income to pious and charitable uses, and handing the estates over
to the new prelate on his appointment.[966] In later legal language,
the guardian of the spiritualties was also the guardian of the
temporalities. Bishoprics and abbeys were dealt with as smaller
preferments have always been dealt with, as holdings in _frank-almoign_.
The novelty lay, not in receiving the bishopric or abbey from the
king, but in receiving it on the terms of a lay fief. One prelate, Odo
Abbot of Chertsey, the Norman successor of the English Wulfwold,[967]
resigned his post rather than hold it on such terms.[968] For the rest
of the reign of Rufus the estates of the abbey were left in the hands
of Flambard. One of the earliest among the reforms of Henry and Anselm
was the restoration of Odo.[969]
[Sidenote: Vacancies longer in abbeys than in bishoprics.]
[Sidenote: Walkelin dies. Jan. 3, 1098.]
[Sidenote: Osmund dies. Dec. 3, 1099.]
[Sidenote: Differences between bishoprics and abbeys.]
[Sidenote: Case of Peterborough. 1098.]
[Sidenote: English abbots.]
[Sidenote: Story of the appointment to an unnamed abbey.]
If we look more minutely into the chronology of this reign, it will
appear that these long vacancies were more usual in the case of the
abbeys than in that of the bishoprics. At the time of William’s death
he had in his hands, besides the archbishopric of the absent Anselm,
the two bishoprics of Winchester and Salisbury and eleven abbeys.[970]
Of these Winchester had been vacant rather more than two years and a
half, Salisbury had been vacant only eight months. And the bishoprics
which were filled in his reign had mostly been vacant one, two, or at
most three years, shorter times than bishoprics were often kept vacant
in much later times.[971] The reason for the difference seems clear.
The bishoprics, when they were filled, commonly went to the king’s
clerks, to Flambard himself and his fellows. The great temporal
position of a bishopric was acceptable to men of this class, and they
found in the king’s service the means of making up a purse such as
would tempt the king to end the vacancy in their favour[972]. A
bishopric was therefore likely to be filled, unworthily filled
doubtless, but still filled, before any very long time had passed. The
abbeys, on the other hand, would have small attractions for the king’s
servants, who in fact, as secular clerks, could not hold them. And the
men for whom such a post would have attractions, the monks of the
vacant abbey or the abbots or priors of lesser houses, would not have
the same means as the king’s servants of making up a purse. The abbeys
therefore were likely to remain vacant longer than the bishoprics.
When they were filled, it was not without simony, or at least not
without a payment of some kind to the King. For it is rather harsh to
apply the word simony to the payment by which the monks of
Peterborough bought of the King the right to choose an abbot freely――a
free _congé d’élire_ in short, without any letter missive.[973]
Another thing may be noticed. The bishops appointed at this time all
bear Norman names; Normans were the most likely men to find their way
into the King’s chapel and chancery. But the abbots are still not
uncommonly English.[974] Rufus, who welcomed brave mercenaries from
any quarter, also welcomed bribes from any quarter, with little of
narrow prejudice for or against particular nations. An English monk
was as likely as his Norman fellow to have, by some means quite
inconsistent with his rule, scraped together money enough to purchase
preferment. And when a body of monks bought the right of free
election, they were likely to choose an Englishman rather than a
stranger. At all times the kings interfered less with the elections to
abbeys than they did with the elections to bishoprics.[975] And, if
there is any truth, even as a legendary illustration, in a tale which
is told both of Rufus and of other kings, there were moments when the
Red King could prefer a practical joke to a bribe. An abbey――the name
is not given――is vacant; two of its monks come to the King, trying to
outbid one another in offers of money for the vacant office. A third
brother has come with them, and the King asks what he will give. He
answers that he will not give anything; he has simply come to receive
the new abbot, whoever he may be, and to take him home with all
honour. Rufus at once bestows the abbey on him, as the only one of the
party worthy of it.[976] The tale is not impossible; had it been
placed in Normandy and not in England, we might have even said that it
was not unlikely. For we shall see, as we go on, that, from whatever
cause, Rufus dealt with ecclesiastical matters in Normandy in a
different spirit from that in which he dealt with them in England.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Sees vacant in 1092.]
[Sidenote: Ralph Luffa Bishop of Chichester. 1091-1123.]
[Sidenote: Death of William Bishop of Thetford. 1091.]
[Sidenote: Herbert Losinga.]
[Sidenote: Prior of Fécamp.]
[Sidenote: Abbot of Ramsey. 1087.]
[Sidenote: He buys the see of Thetford.]
[Sidenote: Three years’ vacancy of New Minster. 1088-1091.]
[Sidenote: Robert Losinga Abbot. 1091-1093.]
[Sidenote: Herbert repents and receives his bishopric again from the
Pope, c. 1093.]
[Sidenote: Novelty of Herbert’s act.]
At the point which we have reached in our general story, the time of
the restoration of Carlisle, two English sees only were vacant. Two
had been filled during the year of the Norman campaign, and both of
them by prelates of some personal mark. Ralph Luffa, Bishop of
Chichester, holds a high place in the history of his own church, as
the founder alike of the existing fabric and of the existing
constitution of its chapter.[977] He bears altogether so good a
character that he is not likely to have come to a bishopric in the way
which was usual in the days of Rufus. Did the King give him his staff
in some passing better moment, like that in which he gave the staff to
the worthy abbot at the nameless monastery? But the other episcopal
appointment of the same year was one of the usual kind, as far as the
motive of the appointment went, though the person to whom the
bishopric was given or sold was not one of the class who in this reign
commonly profited by such transactions. Bishop William of Thetford,
the successor of the unlearned Herfast,[978] died in the year of
negotiations, the year of the peace with Robert and the peace with
Malcolm.[979] His bishopric was not long kept vacant; before the end
of the year the church of Thetford had a new pastor, and one who plays
no small part in local history. This was the famous Herbert
Losinga,[980] who, if we may trust such accounts of him as we have,
made so bad a beginning and so good an ending. Norman by birth, an
immediate countryman of the Conqueror, as sprung from the land of
Hiesmes, a man of learning and evident energy, he became a monk of
Fécamp and prior of that great house.[981] Early in the reign of Rufus
or in the last days of the Conqueror, he was raised to the abbey of
Ramsey, when the long and varied life of Æthelsige came to an
end.[982] He now, on Bishop William’s death, at once bought for
himself the see of Thetford for one thousand pounds.[983] Before the
end of the year he was consecrated by Archbishop Thomas of York,
making his profession to a future Archbishop of Canterbury.[984] At
the same time he also bought preferment for his father Robert, who, it
must be supposed, had embraced the monastic life. The New Minster of
Winchester had now been for three years, since the death of its last
Abbot Ralph, in the hands of Flambard.[985] Herbert now bought the
abbacy for his father.[986] This twofold simony naturally gave great
offence, and formed a fertile subject for the eloquence of the time,
both in prose and verse.[987] The reign of the father was short; two
years later Flambard again held the wardship of New Minster.[988] The
career of the son in his East-Anglian bishopric was longer and more
varied, and we shall come across him again in the course of our story.
At present it is only needful to say that Herbert very soon repented
of the shameful way by which he had climbed into the sheepfold, that
he went to Rome, that he gave up his ill-gotten bishopric into the
hands of Pope Urban, and received his staff from him again in what was
deemed to be a more regular way.[989] Herbert’s repentance was to his
credit; and, as things stood at the moment, there was perhaps no
better way of making amends. But the course which he took was not only
one which was sure to bring on him the displeasure of the Red King; it
was in the teeth of all the customs of William the Great and of the
kings before him. A journey to Rome, without the royal licence, and
seemingly taken by stealth,[990] the submission to a Pope whom the
King had not acknowledged,[991] the surrender to any Pope of the staff
which he had received from the King of the English, were all of them
offences, and the last act was distinctly a novelty. Ulf, Ealdred,
Thomas, Remigius, had all been deprived of their staves and had
received them again;[992] but no English prelate of those times had of
his own act made the Pope his judge in such a matter. When the holy
Wulfstan was threatened with deposition, he had, even in the legend,
given back his staff, not to the Pope who ruled at Rome, but to the
King who slept at Westminster.[993] No wonder then that the Red King
was moved to anger by a slight to his authority which his father could
not have overlooked, and which might have stirred the Confessor
himself to one of his passing fits of wrath. The return of Herbert
from Rome forms part of a striking group of events to which we shall
presently come.
[Sidenote: Vacancy of Lincoln. 1092-1094.]
[Sidenote: Vacancy of Canterbury. 1089-1093.]
The two bishoprics of Chichester and Thetford were thus filled soon
after they became vacant. In the year after the consecration of Ralph
and Herbert, a third see, as we have seen, fell vacant by the death of
Remigius of Lincoln.[994] That see was not filled so speedily as
Chichester and Thetford had been; still it did not remain vacant so
long as some of the abbeys. But a longer vacancy befell, a lasting
vacancy seemed designed to befall, the mother church of all of them.
All this while the metropolitan throne of Canterbury remained empty.
No successor to Lanfranc was chosen or nominated; it was the fixed
purpose of the Red King to make no nomination himself, to allow no
choice on the part of the ecclesiastical electors. Here at least the
doctrines of Randolf Flambard were to be carried out in their fulness.
It is the state of ecclesiastical matters during this memorable
vacancy, and the memorable nomination which at last ended it, which
call for our main attention at this stage of our story.
§ 2. _The Vacancy of the Primacy and the Appointment of Anselm.
1089-1093._
[Sidenote: Effects of the vacancy of the see of Canterbury.]
[Sidenote: Special position of the metropolitan see.]
[Sidenote: Its antiquity and dignity.]
[Sidenote: Place of the Archbishop in the assembly.]
[Sidenote: His leadership of the nation.]
[Sidenote: Appointments to the archbishopric.]
[Sidenote: Thomas of London. 1162.]
[Sidenote: The King’s fixed purpose to keep the see vacant.]
It needs some little effort of the imagination fully to take in all
that is implied in a four years’ vacancy of the see of Canterbury in
the eleventh century. For the King to keep any bishopric vacant in
order to fill his coffers with its revenues was a new and an
unrighteous thing, against which men cried out as at once new and
unrighteous. But to deal in this way with the see of Canterbury was
something which differed in kind from the like treatment of any other
see. That the bishopric of Lincoln was vacant, that the Bishop of
Durham was in banishment, was mainly a local grievance. The churches
of Lincoln and Durham suffered; they were condemned to what, in the
language of the times, was called a state of widowhood. The tenants of
those churches suffered all that was implied in being handed over from
a milder lord to a harsher one. The dioceses were defrauded of
whatever advantages might have flowed from the episcopal
superintendence of Robert Bloet or of William of Saint-Calais. But the
general affairs of the Church and realm might go on much the same;
there was one councillor less in the gemót or the synod, and that was
all. It was another thing when the patriarchal throne was left vacant,
when Church and realm were deprived of him who in a certain sense
might be called the head of both. An Archbishop of Canterbury was
something more than merely the first of English bishops. Setting aside
his loftier ecclesiastical claims as the second Pontiff of a second
world, he held within the realm of England itself a position which was
wholly his own.[995] He held an office older and more venerable than
the crown itself. There were indeed kings in England before there were
bishops; but there were Archbishops of Canterbury before there were
Kings of the English. The successor of Augustine, the “head of
Angle-kin,”[996] had been the embodiment of united English national
life, in days when the land was still torn in pieces by the rivalry of
the kings of this or that corner of it.[997] This lofty position
survived the union of the kingdoms; it survived the transfer of the
united kingdom to a foreign Conqueror. Lanfranc stood by the side of
William, as Dunstan had stood by the side of Eadgar. In every
gathering of the Church and of the people, in every synod, in every
gemót, the Archbishop of Canterbury held a place which had no equal or
second, a place which was shared by no other bishop or earl or
ætheling. If we reckon the King as the head of the assembly, the
Archbishop is its first member. If we reckon the King as a power
outside the assembly, the Archbishop is himself its head. He is the
personal counsellor of the King, the personal leader of the nation, in
a way in which no other man in the realm could be said to be. As of
old, under the Empire of Rome, each town had its _defensor civitatis_,
so now, under the kingship of England, the successor of Augustine
might be said to hold the place of _defensor regni_. The position
which Lanfranc had held, and in which during these dreary years he had
no successor, was a position wholly unlike that of the class of
bishops to which we are now getting accustomed, royal officials who
received bishoprics as the payment of their temporal services. It was
equally unlike that of the statesman-bishops of later times, who might
or might not forget the bishop in the statesman, but whose two
characters, ecclesiastical and temporal, were quite distinct and in no
way implied one another. An archbishop of those times was a statesman
by virtue of his spiritual office; he was the moral guardian and moral
mouth-piece of the nation. The ideal archbishop was at once saint,
scholar, and statesman; of the long series from Augustine to Lanfranc,
some had really united all those characters; none perhaps had been
altogether lacking in all three. Hence the special care with which men
were chosen for so great a place both before and for some time after
the time with which we are dealing. The king’s clerks, his chancellor,
his treasurer, even his larderer,[998] might beg or buy some bishopric
of less account; but, seventy years after this time, the world was
amazed when King Henry bethought him of placing Chancellor Thomas, not
in the seat of Randolf of Durham or Roger of Salisbury, but in the
seat of Ælfheah, Anselm, and Theobald.[999] The surprise which was
then called forth by what was looked on as a new-fangled and wrongful
nomination to the archbishopric of Canterbury may help us to judge of
the surprise and horror and despair which came over the minds of men,
as it became plain that the wish, perhaps the fixed purpose, of the
Red King was to get rid of archbishops of Canterbury altogether.
[Sidenote: The King’s motives.]
[Sidenote: The estates of the see.]
[Sidenote: Further motives.]
The motives of the King are plain. He sought something more than
merely to get possession of the rich revenues of the archbishopric,
though that was doubtless not a small matter in the policy of either
Rufus or Flambard. The estates of the see of Canterbury furnished a
very perceptible addition to the royal income, and they gave the King
a convenient means of rewarding some of his favourites, to whom he
granted archiepiscopal lands on military tenure.[1000] Lanfranc
himself had already done something like this;[1001] but the usual
tendency of lands so granted to pass away from the Church would be
greatly strengthened when it was not the Archbishop, but the King, at
whose hands they had been received, and to whom the first homage had
been paid. But all this was doubtless very secondary. In the case of
other sees it was a mere reckoning of profit; Rufus had no objection
to fill them at once, if any one would make it worth his while to do
so. But it is plain that he had a fixed determination to keep the
archbishopric vacant, if possible, for ever, at all events as long as
the patience of his kingdom would endure such a state of things. To
Rufus, whether as man or as king, the appointment of an archbishop was
the thing of all others which was least to be wished. To fill the see
of Canterbury would be at once to set up a disagreeable monitor by his
side, and to put some check on the reign of unright and unlaw, public
and private. William doubtless remembered how, as long as Lanfranc
lived, he had had to play an unwilling part, and to put a bridle on
his worst and most cherished instincts. An archbishop of his own
naming could not indeed have the personal authority of his ancient
guardian; but any archbishop would have a charge to speak in the name
of the Church and the nation in a way which could hardly be pleasing
in his ears. The metropolitan see therefore remained unfilled till the
day when William Rufus became for a short season another man.
[Sidenote: No fear of a bad appointment.]
[Sidenote: Primates between Anselm and Thomas.]
It is worth remarking that what might have seemed a very obvious way
out of the difficulty clearly did not come into the head of the King
or of any one else. The long vacancy of the archbishopric made men
uneasy; they were grieved and amazed as to what might happen in so
unusual a case; but they felt sure that the present distress must end
some time, and they seem to have taken for granted that, when it did
end, it would end by the appointment of some one worthy of the place.
Men were troubled at the King’s failure to appoint any archbishop;
they do not seem to have been at all troubled by fear that he might
appoint a bad archbishop.[1002] Rufus himself seems never to have
thought of granting or selling the metropolitan see to any of his own
creatures, to Flambard for instance or to Robert Bloet. He might so
deal with Lincoln or Durham; something within or without him kept him
from so dealing with Canterbury. It is throughout taken for granted
that the choice lay between a good archbishop or none at all. A good
archbishop was the yoke-fellow of a good king, the reprover of an evil
king. William Rufus wanted neither of those. But even William Rufus
had not gone so far, his subjects did not suspect him of going so far,
as to think of appointing an evil archbishop in order to be the tool
of an evil king. The precedent of making the patriarchal throne of
Britain the reward of merely temporal services[1003] did not come till
it had been filled by four more primates, all taken from the regular
orders, numbering among them at least one saint and one statesman, but
no mere royal official. The first degradation of the archbishopric led
to its greatest exaltation, in the person of Thomas of London. But
Thomas of London, even in his most worldly days, was a very different
person from Randolf Flambard.
[Sidenote: Seemingly no thought of election.]
[Sidenote: No action of the monks.]
[Sidenote: No action of the Witan.]
[Sidenote: Silent endurance of the action.]
Another point to be remarked is how utterly the notion either of
ecclesiastical election or of election in the Great Council of the
realm seems to have passed away. There is nothing like an attempt at
the choice of an archbishop, either by the monks of Christ Church, the
usual electors, or by the suffragan bishops, who afterwards claimed
the right. It might have been too daring a step if the monks had done
as they once had done in the days of King Eadward,[1004] if they had
chosen an archbishop freely, and then asked for the King’s approval of
their choice. Eadward had rejected the prelate so chosen; William
Rufus might have done something more than reject him. But we do not
hear of their even venturing to petition for leave to elect; they do
not, like the monks of Peterborough,[1005] make such a petition, and
enforce it by the strongest of arguments. Nor do bishops, earls,
thegns, the nation at large, venture to act, any more than the monks.
They murmur, and that is all. No action on the subject is recorded to
have been taken in any of the gemóts till the vacancy had lasted
nearly four years; and we shall see that the action which was at last
taken showed more strongly than anything else that, as far as this
world was concerned, it rested wholly with the King whether England
should ever again have another primate or not. Through the whole time,
the nation suffers, but it suffers in silence. We have already had to
deal with a king on whose nod all things human and divine were held to
hang;[1006] we are now dealing with a king who would have no petition
made, no act ascribed, within his realm, to any God or man except
himself.[1007]
[Sidenote: Results, of the vacancy.]
[Sidenote: Corruption of the clergy.]
[Sidenote: Fiscal spirit of the time.]
[Sidenote: Effects of the lack of ecclesiastical discipline.]
The state of things during the time when William Rufus held firm to
his purpose that no man should be archbishop but himself,[1008] and
when the revenues of the archbishopric were paid into the hands of
Randolf Flambard,[1009] was one of general corruption. It is
immediately after recording the King’s way of dealing with bishoprics
and abbeys that one of our chief guides breaks forth into his most
vehement protest against the vices of the time, and specially against
the corruption and degradation of the clergy.[1010] That they took to
secular callings, that they became pleaders of causes and farmers of
revenues, was not wonderful. Under the rule of Flambard there
were endless openings for employments of this kind, employments for
which, as in the case of Flambard himself, the clerk was commonly
better fitted than the layman. And the general fiscal spirit of the
time, the endless seeking after gold and silver of which the King set
the example, naturally spread through all classes; every rich man, we
are told, turned money-changer.[1011] The constant demands for actual
coin, the large outlay of actual coin in the payment of the King’s
mercenaries, must have led to an increased activity in the circulation
of the precious metals. The newly-come Jews, strong in royal favour,
doubtless found their account in this turn of things; but some classes
of Christians seem to have found their account in it also. But,
besides all this, the writers of the time seem clearly to connect the
frightful profligacy of the time, specially rife among the King’s
immediate following, with the vacancy of the archbishopric. It is true
that things were not much better in Normandy, where the good soul of
Archbishop William must have been daily grieved at the unlawful deeds
of almost every one around him. But an Archbishop of Rouen had never
been held to have the same authority over either prince or people as
an Archbishop of Canterbury. Whatever power, moral or formal, was at
any time wielded by the ecclesiastical state for the reformation of
manners was altogether in abeyance, now that there was no Primate
either to call together a synod of the national Church or to speak
with that personal authority which belonged to none of the chiefs of
the national Church but himself. Even darker times were in store, when
there was a Primate in the land, but when his authority was defied and
his person insulted. But as yet the darkest times that men had known
were the four years during which the sons of the English Church were
left as sheep without a shepherd.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Debt of England to foreigners.]
[Sidenote: The Burgundian saints.]
[Sidenote: Hugh of Avalon.]
[Sidenote: Anselm of Aosta.]
[Sidenote: His parentage.]
[Sidenote: Associations of his youth.]
The shepherd was at last to come, like his immediate predecessor, in
one sense from a distant land, in another sense from a land which was
only too near. The house of Bec, the house of Herlwin, was for the
second time to give a patriarch to the isle of Britain. It had given
us Lanfranc the statesman; it was now to give us Anselm the saint. We
may reckon it, not as the shame, but as the glory of our nation that
we have so often won strangers, and even conquerors, to become our
national leaders, and to take their place among the noblest worthies
of the soil. Alongside of the lawgiver from Denmark, of the deliverer
from France, we rank, as holding the same place among bishops which
they hold among kings and earls, the holy man from the Prætorian
Augusta.[1012] The annals of the eleventh and twelfth centuries are
thick set with the names of foreign prelates holding English sees; and
among them both Normandy and Lorraine, to say nothing of Pavia, had
sent us some whom we might well be glad to welcome. But the two whose
names shine out above them all, the two from whose names all thought
of their foreign birth passes away, the two whom we hail as our own by
adoption and love, came from a more distant realm, and a realm which
is well nigh forgotten. Hugh of Avalon and of Lincoln came from the
more favoured and famous district where the Imperial Burgundy rises to
the Alps and sinks again to the Rhone.[1013] Anselm of Aosta and of
Canterbury came from that deep valley which, after all changes, is
still Cisalpine Gaul. He came from that small outlying fragment of the
Middle Kingdom which has not risen to the destiny of Unterwalden and
Bern, of Lausanne and Geneva, but which has escaped the destiny of
Bresse and Bugey, of Chablais and Nizza, of royal Arles and princely
Orange, and of Hugh’s own home by the city of Gratian.[1014] The vale
of Aosta, still Burgundian in its speech and buildings, the last
remnant of the great Burgundian dominion of its lords, still gives a
title to princes of the house of its earliest and of its latest
Humbert. The father of Anselm, no less than the father of Lanfranc,
was of Lombard birth. But Gundulf had been fully adopted at Aosta, and
his son, born on Burgundian soil, son of a Burgundian mother of lofty,
perhaps of princely stock,[1015] must be reckoned as belonging to the
Burgundy in which he was born and bred rather than to the Italy which
in after days he visited as a stranger.[1016] There, in the last home
of old Gaulish freedom, in an Augusta named after the first
Augustus――an Augusta which we doubt whether to call Prætorian from the
conquerors or Salassian from the conquered――in the long valley fenced
in by the giant Alps on either side――at the foot of the pass where
local belief holds that Hannibal had crossed of old and where
Buonaparte was to cross in days to come――there where the square walls
of the Roman town rise almost untouched above the rushing Dora――where
the street still bearing the name of Anselm leads from the Roman gate
to the Roman arch of triumph, where the towers of Saint Gratus and
Saint Urse, fellows of kindred towers at Verona and at Lincoln, at
Schaffhausen and at Cambridge, rose fresh in all their squareness and
sternness when Anselm lay as a babe beneath their shadow――there, among
the sublimest works of nature and among some of the most striking
works of man, was born the teacher of Normandy, the shepherd of
England, the man who dived deeper than any man before him into the
most awful mysteries of the faith, but whom we have rather to deal
with as one who ranks by adoption among the truest worthies of
England, the man who stood forth as the champion of right against both
political and moral wrong in the days when both political and moral
wrong were at their darkest.
[Sidenote: Comparison of Lanfranc and Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Anselm not preferred in England by the Conqueror.]
[Sidenote: Various sides of Anselm’s character.]
I have already pointed out the contrast between the characters of
Lanfranc and Anselm, in recording one memorable discourse between
them, in which Anselm won Lanfranc over to a better mind in the matter
of our English Ælfheah.[1017] The calling and the work of the two men
were different; and the work of Anselm implied the earlier work of
Lanfranc. Lanfranc was, after all, in some sort a conqueror of the
English Church, and the character of a conqueror was one in which
Anselm could never have shown himself. Lanfranc was a statesman, one
whose policy could spread itself far beyond the bounds of this or that
kingdom or nation, but whose very policy compelled him not to let the
distinctions of kingdoms and nations slip out of his sight. To Anselm
we could almost fancy that such distinctions were of small account. He
was the servant of God and the friend of all God’s creatures; he
perhaps hardly stopped to think whether those whose souls and bodies
he was ever ready to help were Burgundian, Norman, or English. With
such a spirit as this, he could not have done Lanfranc’s work; and it
is worthy of remark that the Conqueror, who so greatly valued him,
seems never to have thought of him for any preferment in England.
Lanfranc had to carry out a policy, in some measure harsh and worldly,
but which, granting his own position and that of his master, could not
be avoided. Anselm fittingly came after him, at a time when national
distinctions and national wrongs were almost forgotten in the
universal reign of evil, to protest in the name of universal right,
and in so doing to protest against particular and national wrongs. He
would have been out of place in the first days of the Conquest; as a
stranger, though only as a stranger, he would have been out of place
in the days of our earlier freedom. When he did come, he was
thoroughly in place, as one who was before all things a preacher of
righteousness, but who could, when need called for it, put on the
mantle of the statesman and even that of the warrior. Like our own
Wulfstan, in many things his fellow, we find him the friend and
counsellor of men of a character most opposite to his own. And, as we
have seen Wulfstan, if not commanding, at least directing,
armies,[1018] so we shall see Anselm, if not waging war in his own
person, at least hallowing more than one camp by his presence. And we
can hardly blame him if, at some later stages of his career, he
allowed himself to be swayed by scruples which he had never thought of
at its beginning, if, in his zeal for eternal right, he allowed
himself to sin against the ancient laws and customs of England. When
England, Normandy, France, and the Empire, were as they all were in
his day, we can forgive him for looking on the Roman Bishop as the one
surviving embodiment of law and right, and for deeming that, when he
spake, it was as when a man listened to the oracles of God.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Anselm and Eadmer.]
[Sidenote: References to Eadmer in other writers.]
[Sidenote: Church’s Life of Anselm.]
The tale of the early life of Anselm has been handed down to us by a
loving companion, a man of our own nation, who was won in his youth by
the kind words of the foreign saint when he came to England as a
momentary visitor, and who in after times became the most faithful of
disciples through all the changes of his fortunes. It is one of the
marked features of the story that we know so little of Anselm, except
from his own writings and from the narrative of Eadmer. Our own
historians of the time speak of Anselm with the deepest reverence; but
they say little of him beside the broad facts which lie on the surface
of English history. Some of them directly refer to his special
biographer for fuller accounts.[1019] In telling his story I find
myself in the like case. I am tempted to refer once for all for the
acts of Anselm to his Life as written in our own day by a master both
of description and of comment.[1020] I could be well pleased to send
my readers elsewhere to study Anselm the monk and abbot, and to
concern myself only with his career as archbishop in our own land. But
the earlier and the later career of Anselm hang together, and he has
already made his appearance at more than one earlier stage of our own
story. I must therefore attempt some general notice, though at less
length than if the ground had not been thus forestalled, of the
primate who came to us from Aosta, as his predecessor did from Pavia,
and who, like his predecessor, made Bec a halting-place on the way to
Canterbury.
[Sidenote: Childhood of Anselm.]
[Sidenote: His youthful licence.]
[Sidenote: He leaves Aosta. 1057.]
[Sidenote: His sojourn at Avranches.]
[Sidenote: He becomes a monk at Bec. 1060.]
[Sidenote: Elected prior. 1063.]
In the life of Anselm a childhood and a manhood of eminent holiness
are parted by a short time of youthful licence. The little child in
his dream climbed his native mountains to seek for the palace of God
on a Christian Olympos. He reported the idleness of the handmaids of
his Lord; he sat at the feet of his Lord; he was refreshed by the
steward of the divine household with a meal of the purest bread.[1021]
The scholarly boy was so eager for the monastic life that he prayed
for some sickness that might drive him into the cloister.[1022] But
the youth for a while cast aside his piety; he cast aside his
learning; he gave himself to the thoughts and sports of the world; he
even yielded to those temptations of the flesh which Wulfstan had
withstood in the midst of his military exercises,[1023] and which
Thomas withstood in the midst of his worldly business.[1024] But the
love of his tender and pious mother kept him from wholly falling away.
The yearning for a monastic life came upon him again, though his
wishes were greatly opposed by his father. At last, in his
twenty-fourth year, Anselm left his own land. After three years’
sojourn in Burgundy and France, he reached Normandy, and, in the steps
of Lanfranc, first took up his abode at Avranches.[1025] But Lanfranc
was now at Bec. Thither Anselm, fully bent on the monastic calling,
followed the great scholar. He had doubted for a while between Bec and
Clugny. We shall hardly think the worse of him for his frank
confession of human feelings. He doubted, because at Clugny his human
learning would be of no use, while at Bec it would be overshadowed by
that of Lanfranc.[1026] In the end, by the advice of Lanfranc himself
and of Archbishop Maurilius, he became a monk of Bec, and, when
Lanfranc became Abbot of Saint Stephen’s, Anselm succeeded him in the
office of prior.[1027]
[Sidenote: Stories of him as prior.]
[Sidenote: Elected Abbot. 1078.]
This first preferment Anselm seems to have taken willingly. A crowd of
beautiful stories, setting forth his faith towards God and his
kindliness towards all men, belong to this part of his career, the
time when he was specially employed in writing his theological works.
We admire the mixture of wisdom and kindness with which he reproved
the abbot of another house who complained that the boys who were
entrusted to his teaching got more and more unruly, even though they
were whipped day and night.[1028] We are tempted to feel a slight
grudge when he counsels a knight who seems to have been leading a good
and devout life in the world to embrace the monastic calling.[1029]
Much as that age needed men like Anselm, it still more needed men like
Gulbert of Hugleville and Helias of La Flèche. But we note with some
interest the comment of Eadmer, so curiously illustrating the common
rivalry between one monastery and another. In such cases Anselm did
not counsel profession at Bec rather than in any other house, and this
particular convert took the cowl at Marmoutiers. At last, on the death
of Herlwin, the unanimous choice of the convent called him to the
place of abbot. His deep reluctance to accept so great a charge was
overcome only by the express command of Archbishop Maurilius, who, on
his election to the priorship, had bidden him by virtue of holy
obedience to accept both that and any higher preferment which might
come in his way.[1030] The election of Anselm to the abbacy marks a
stage in our story. It was in his character of abbot that he was first
brought into relations with England; in that character he paid his
first visit to the land which was presently to make him her own.
[Sidenote: Bec under Anselm.]
[Sidenote: His widespread fame.]
[Sidenote: His correspondence.]
[Sidenote: Intercourse between Bec and England.]
The fame of the new Abbot of Bec and of his house, great already, now
grew still greater. Learning had shone at Bec ever since Lanfranc came
thither; but hitherto it had shone only in the second rank. It now
took the chief seat in the person of Abbot Anselm. He was sought by
men from all parts as a friend, a teacher, a spiritual adviser. Of the
open-handed hospitality of Bec it was not, we are told, for Norman
neighbours to speak; those might speak who had found their way thither
from the distant lands of Burgundy and Spain.[1031] The whole Latin
world drank in with eagerness the teaching of Anselm.[1032] Scholars
of all lands came to sit at his feet. Noble ladies in their widowhood
sought his neighbourhood and spiritual direction, and received the
honourable title of mothers of the house.[1033] Like all the saints
and scholars of his day, he had a crowd of correspondents of all
classes; amongst them we see Countess Ida of Boulogne and the
Conqueror’s renowned daughter Adela.[1034] And throughout his life and
letters we see constant signs of the daily intercourse which, as
naturally followed on the circumstances of the time, was ever going on
between Normandy and England. The endless going to and fro between the
two countries strikes us at every step.[1035] There was an interchange
of men; if many Normans found their way to England, some Englishmen
found their way to Normandy. Bec had already begun to give bishops to
England. Lanfranc had placed two monks of his old house in the
episcopal chair of Rochester.[1036] The second of them, the famous
Gundulf, had been, when at Bec, the familiar friend of Anselm, who
spoke little himself, but who listened to the great teacher, and wept
at his touching words.[1037] On the other hand, in the house of Bec
itself there were monks who were English of the Old-English stock,
monks whom Lanfranc thought fit to call back to their own land and to
the monastery of which he was the spiritual father.[1038]
[Sidenote: Lands of Bec in England.]
[Sidenote: The dependent priory of Clare. 1090.]
Anselm had thus many ties of friendship and kindly association with
England, even before he had any official connexion with the land or
its inhabitants. And a strictly official connexion began long before
he became archbishop. The Abbot of Bec had both temporal possessions
and spiritual duties within our island. He was the lord of English
estates and the spiritual father of brethren settled on English soil.
The house of Bec appears in four places in Domesday as holder of lands
in England; but one manor only was held in chief of the king. The
church of Saint Mary of Bec held the lordship of Deverel in Wiltshire,
once the possession of Brihtric, whether the son of Ælfgar or any less
famous bearer of the name. This had been the gift of Queen Matilda,
and it is worth noting that the value of the land had lessened in the
few years between her death and the taking of the Survey.[1039] A
smaller estate at Swinecombe in Oxfordshire, held of Miles Crispin,
was more lucky; it had grown in value by one third.[1040] In Surrey
the house held lands at Tooting and Streatham, the gift of Richard of
Clare or of Tunbridge, him of whom we have so often heard. The
possessions of Bec at Tooting, which had sunk to one fifth of their
ancient value at the time of their grant to the abbey, had risen again
to the value at which they were rated in the days of King
Eadward.[1041] The business arising out of these lands, all seemingly
held in demesne, with a mill, churls, slaves, and other dependents,
must have called for some care on the part of the abbot or of those
whom he employed for the purpose. And it would seem that, on the
whole, the monastic body had been a careful husband of its English
estates. In after times also Bec became the head of several alien
priories in England; but one only of these can be carried back with
certainty to Anselm’s day. This was the priory of Clare in Suffolk,
afterwards moved to Stoke, which was founded as a cell to Bec while
Anselm was abbot.[1042] It was the gift of Gilbert of Clare, brother
of Richard the other benefactor of the house, a house which seems to
have had special attractions for the whole family of Count Gilbert.
[Sidenote: Law-suits.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s desire to do justice.]
[Sidenote: His first visit to England. 1078.]
[Sidenote: His friendship with the monks of Christ Church.]
[Sidenote: Eadmer.]
Anselm was thus a land-owner on both sides of the sea, and, little as
he loved temporal business, he could not wholly escape it. No man, no
society of men, in either the Normandy or the England of those days,
could hope to keep clear of law-suits. The house of Herlwin, new as it
was and holy as it was, seems to have been entangled in not a few.
Anselm’s chief wish was that in these disputes justice should be done
to all concerned. There were among the monks of Bec, as among the
monks of other houses, men who knew the law and who were skilful in
legal pleadings. The Abbot had sometimes to charge them to make no
unfair use of their skill, and not to strive to win any advantage for
the house but such as was strictly just.[1043] Otherwise, as far as he
could, he entrusted mere worldly affairs――the serving of tables――to
others.[1044] Yet he could not avoid journeys beyond sea on behalf of
the house. He was thus more than once compelled to visit England. He
crossed the sea in the first year of his appointment as abbot. He came
to Canterbury; he was received with mickle worship by Lanfranc and the
monks of Christ Church.[1045] The first touch of English soil seems to
have changed the Burgundian saint, the Norman abbot, into an
Englishman and an English patriot. It was now that he made the
memorable discourse in which he showed that English Ælfheah was a true
martyr.[1046] The Abbot of Bec did not scorn to be admitted into the
brotherhood of the monks of Christ Church, and to dwell with them as
one of themselves.[1047] It was the time when Lanfranc was doing his
work of reform among them,[1048] a work which was doubtless helped by
the sojourn and counsel of Anselm. With the more learned among them he
lived familiarly, putting and answering questions, both in profane and
sacred lore.[1049] And among them he made one friend, English by blood
and name, whose memory is for ever entwined with his own. It was now
that Eadmer, then a young monk of the house, won his deep regard, and
attached himself for ever to the master whose acts he was in after
times to record.[1050]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s general popularity in England.]
[Sidenote: His preaching.]
[Sidenote: His love for England.]
[Sidenote: His alleged miracles.]
[Sidenote: His friendship with the Conqueror;]
[Sidenote: with Earl Hugh.]
[Sidenote: Hugh’s changes at Chester.]
But it was not only in the church which was one day to be his own, or
among men of his own order only, that Anselm made friends in England.
He made a kind of progress through the land, being welcomed
everywhere, as well in the courts of nobles as in the houses of monks,
nuns, and canons.[1051] Everywhere he scattered the good seed of his
teaching, speaking to all according to their several callings, to men
and women, married and unmarried, monks, clerks, laymen, making
himself, as far as was lawful, all things to all men.[1052] Scholar
and theologian as Anselm was, his teaching was specially popular; he
did not affect the grand style, but dealt largely in parables and
instances which were easy to be understood.[1053] The laity therefore
flocked eagerly to hear him, and every man rejoiced who could win the
privilege of personal speech with the new apostle.[1054] The men of
that age, stained as many of them were with great crimes――perhaps all
the more because their crimes were of a kind which they could not help
feeling to be crimes――commonly kept enough of conscience and good
feeling to admire in others the virtues which they failed to practise
themselves. William Rufus himself had moments when goodness awed him.
It was only a few exceptional monsters like the fiend of Bellême whom
no such feelings ever touched. Anselm became the idol of all the
inhabitants of England, without distinction of age or sex, of rank or
race. The land became to him yet another home, a home which he loved
to visit, and where he was ever welcome.[1055] Men sought to him for
the cure of bodily as well as spiritual diseases; and we read of not a
few cases of healing in which he was deemed to be the agent, cases in
which modern times will most likely see the strong exercise of that
power which, from one point of view, is called imagination, and from
another faith.[1056] The highest in estate and power were the most
eager of all to humble themselves before him. We have seen how the
elder William, ever mild to good men, was specially mild to Anselm,
how he craved his presence on his death-bed, and how Anselm, unable to
help his master in life, was among those who did the last honours to
him in death.[1057] We are told that there was not an earl or countess
or great person of any kind in England, who did not seek the
friendship of Anselm, who did not deem that his or her spiritual state
was the worse if any opportunity had been lost of doing honour or
service to the Abbot of Bec.[1058] Like some other saints of his own
and of other times, he drew to himself the special regard of some
whose characters were most unlike his own. Earl Hugh of Chester,
debauched, greedy, reckless, and cruel, beyond the average of the
time, is recorded as being a special friend of the holy man.[1059] He
who rebuked kings doubtless rebuked earls also; but it would have been
a better sign of reformation, if Hugh, under the teaching of Anselm,
had learned to spare the eyes either of brother nobles or of British
captives, than if he was merely led to place monks instead of canons
at Saint Werburh’s, and in the end to take the cowl among them
himself.
[Sidenote: Feeling as to the vacancy of the archbishopric. 1092.]
[Sidenote: Vacancy of Lincoln.]
[Sidenote: Anselm looked to as the coming archbishop.]
But the planting of monks at Saint Werburh’s had no small effect on
the destiny of Anselm and of England. In the course of the year which
saw the annexation of Cumberland men began to be thoroughly wearied of
the long vacancy of the archbishopric. It may be that the great
gathering at Lincoln had brought home to every mind the great wrong
under which the Church was suffering. The bishops of the land had come
together to a great ecclesiastical rite; but they had come together as
a body without a head. And they had parted under circumstances which
made the state of things even worse than it had been when they met.
The death of Remigius had handed over another bishopric to the
wardship of Flambard. The land from the Thames to the Humber, the
great diocese which took in nine shires, was to be left without a
shepherd as long as Rufus and Flambard should think good. That is, it
was to be left till some one among the King’s servants should be ready
to do by Lincoln as Herbert Losinga had done by Thetford. Men began to
say among themselves that such unlaw as this could not go on for ever;
the land could not abide without a chief pastor; an archbishop must
soon come somehow, whether the King and Flambard willed it or not. The
feeling was universal; and with it another feeling was almost equally
universal; when the archbishop should come, he could come only in the
shape of the man who was of all men most worthy of the office, the man
whom all England knew and loved as if his whole life had been spent
within her seas, the holy Abbot of Bec.[1060] That such was the
general feeling in England soon became known out of England; it became
known at Bec as at other places; it was not hidden from the Abbot of
Bec himself.
[Sidenote: Earl Hugh seeks help from Anselm in his reforms. 1092.]
[Sidenote: Anselm refuses to go.]
[Sidenote: His motives.]
[Sidenote: Hugh’s sickness and second message.]
[Sidenote: The third message.]
At the time which we have now reached Earl Hugh was planning his
supposed reforms at Saint Werburh’s. Designing to fill the minster
with monks, he would have his monks from the place where the monastic
life was most perfectly practised; the men who were to kindle a new
light at Chester must come from Bec.[1061] It was in the end from Bec
that the first abbot Richard and his brethren came to wage that strife
which we are told was so specially hard-fought in that region.[1062]
But the founder further wished the work to be done under the eye of
the Abbot of Bec himself; so, trusting in his old friendship, Earl
Hugh prayed Anselm to come to him. His prayer was backed by that of
other nobles of England;[1063] the monks of Bec too deemed that either
the affairs of Saint Werburh’s or some other business of the monastery
called for their abbot’s presence in England.[1064] But Anselm at
first steadily refused to go; the general rumour had reached his own
ears; he had been told that, if he went to England, he would certainly
become Archbishop of Canterbury. He shrank from the acceptance of such
an office; he shrank yet more from doing anything which might even
have the look of seeking for such an office. It might be a question of
casuistry whether the command of Maurilius to accept any preferment
that might be offered could have any force beyond the life and the
province of Maurilius; yet that command may have made Anselm yet more
determined to keep out of the way of all danger of having the see of
Canterbury offered to him. He refused to go to England, when it was
possible that his object in going might be cruelly misconstrued.[1065]
Another message came, announcing that Earl Hugh was smitten with
grievous sickness, and needed the spiritual help of his friend.
Moreover Anselm need not be afraid; there was nothing in the rumours
which he had heard; he stood in no danger of the archbishopric.[1066]
In this Hugh most likely spoke the truth. Others had brought
themselves to believe that there must soon be an archbishop, and that
that archbishop must be Anselm. But they had no ground for thinking
that anything of the kind would happen, except that it was the best
thing that could happen. The Earl of Chester was as likely as any man
except Flambard to know the King’s real mind; and what followed makes
it plain that as yet Rufus had no thought of filling the archbishopric
at all. Still Anselm would not go till a third message from the Earl
appealed to another motive. It would not be for the soul’s health of
Anselm himself if he stayed away when his friend so deeply needed his
help.[1067] To this argument Anselm yielded; for the sake of
friendship and of his friend’s spiritual welfare, he would go, let men
say what they would about his motives for going.[1068]
[Sidenote: He is bidden to go by his monks.]
[Sidenote: Anselm goes to England.]
But the invitation of Earl Hugh was not Anselm’s only motive for his
journey. Another cause was added which a little startles us. The
business of the abbey in England, business to be done with the King,
still called for the abbot’s presence there. The monks sought to have
the royal exactions on their English lands made less heavy.[1069] At
this moment Anselm was not at Bec; he was spending some days at
Boulogne with his friend and correspondent Countess Ida.[1070] While
there, he received a message from Bec, bidding him, by virtue of the
law of obedience, not to come back to the abbey till he had gone into
England and looked after the matters about which he was needed
there.[1071] Such a message as this from monks to their abbot sounds
to us like a reversal of all monastic order; but it seems to have been
held that, while each monk undoubtedly owed obedience to the abbot,
the abbot himself owed obedience to the general vote of the convent.
To these two influences, the law of obedience and care for Earl Hugh’s
soul, Anselm at last yielded. He set sail from Boulogne or Whitsand,
and landed at Dover. He was now within what was presently to be his
own province, his own diocese; and that province he was not again to
leave till he sought shelter on the mainland in the character of
archbishop and confessor.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Anselm at Canterbury. September 8, 1092.]
[Sidenote: His first interview with Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s rebuke of the King.]
[Sidenote: Settlement of the affairs of Bec.]
The immediate business of Anselm led him to Chester, and to the place,
wherever it was, where the King was to be found. We are told that he
made the best of his way to his sick friend,[1072] who was so eager
for Anselm’s coming that he despised all other spiritual help.[1073]
But it is plain that he tarried on the road to see the King. From
Dover his first stage was Canterbury. There he was alarmed by the
welcome given him by a crowd of monks and laymen who hailed him as
their future archbishop. It was a high festival, the Nativity of our
Lady; but Anselm, wishing to give no encouragement to such greetings
as he had just received, declined to officiate at the celebration of
the feast. He tarried but one night in the city, and left it early the
next morning.[1074] He then went to the King. The reception which he
met with showed that Rufus must have been for the moment in one of his
better moods. Anselm indeed was a chosen friend of his father, and he
had given him no personal offence. As soon as the approach of the
Abbot of Bec was announced, the King arose, met him at the door,
exchanged the kiss of peace, and led him by the hand to his
seat.[1075] A friendly discourse followed. Perhaps the very
friendliness of William’s greeting brought it more fully home to
Anselm’s mind that it would be a failure of duty on his own part if he
spoke only of the worldly affairs of his abbey. He must seize the
moment to give a word of warning to a sinner whose evil deeds were so
black, and who disgraced at the same time so lofty an office and such
high natural gifts. Anselm asked that all others might withdraw; he
wished for a private interview with the King. The affairs of the house
of Bec were, for the moment at least, passed by; the welfare of the
kingdom of England, and the soul’s health of its king, were objects
which came first. Anselm told Rufus in plain words that the men of his
kingdom, both secretly and openly, daily said things of him which in
no way became his kingly office.[1076] From later appeals of Anselm to
the conscience of Rufus, we may conceive that this general description
took in at once the special wrongs done to the Church, the general
abuses of William’s government, and the personal excesses of William’s
own life. Anselm was not the man to hold his peace on any one of those
three subjects; but we have no details of Anselm’s discourse from his
own biographer, nor does he give us any notice of the way in which
William received his rebuke.[1077] Yet it would seem that the milder
mood of the Red King had not wholly passed away. If Anselm had been
thrust aside with any violent or sarcastic answer, it would surely
have passed into one of the stock anecdotes of the reign. Our only
other description of the scene paints Rufus as held back from any
disrespectful treatment of Anselm by a lingering reverence for the
friend of his parents. He turned the matter off with a laugh. He could
not hinder what men chose to say of him; but so holy a man as Anselm
ought not to believe such stories.[1078] It is not even clear whether
Anselm brought himself to speak at all on the particular business
which had brought him to the King’s presence. King and Abbot parted;
it would seem that nothing was done about the affairs of Bec for the
present; but we may gather that, at some later time, the lands of the
monastery were relieved from the burthens of which they complained.[1079]
[Sidenote: Anselm at Chester.]
[Sidenote: The King refuses him leave to go back. February, 1093.]
Anselm now went on to Chester, where he found his friend Earl Hugh
restored to health. But the change in the foundation at Saint
Werburh’s still needed his presence, and the special affairs of his
own house had also to be looked to. Between these two sets of affairs,
Anselm was kept in England for five months. He then wished to go back
to Normandy; but the King’s leave, it seems, was needed, and the
King’s leave was refused.[1080]
[Sidenote: William’s feeling towards Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Christmas Assembly, 1092-1093.]
[Sidenote: The vacancy discussed by the Witan.]
[Sidenote: Petition of the Assembly to the King.]
[Sidenote: Prayers for the appointment of an archbishop.]
[Sidenote: Anselm draws up a form of prayer.]
This refusal is worth notice. It does not seem to have been done in
enmity; at least it was not followed by any kind of further
wrong-doing on the King’s part towards Anselm. It really looks as if
William had, not indeed any fixed purpose of appointing Anselm to the
archbishopric, but a kind of feeling that he might be driven to
appoint him, a feeling that things might come to a stage in which he
could not help naming some archbishop, and that, if it came to that
stage, he could not help naming Anselm. It is plain from what follows
that the thought of Anselm as a possible archbishop was in the King’s
mind as well as in the minds of others. But certainly no offer or hint
was at this stage made by William, nor was anything said to Anselm
about the matter by any one else.[1081] Men no doubt knew Anselm’s
feelings, and avoided the subject. But at one point during these five
months the vacancy of the archbishopric was brought very strongly
before Anselm’s mind, though not in a way which suggested his own
appointment rather than that of anybody else. When the Midwinter Gemót
of this year was held, the long vacancy, and the evils which flowed
from it, became a matter of discussion among the assembled Witan. But
they did not venture to attempt any election, or even to make any
suggestion of their own; they did not even make any direct petition to
the King to put an end to the vacancy. A resolution was passed――our
contemporary guide doubted whether future ages would believe the
fact――that the King should be humbly petitioned to allow prayers to be
put up throughout the churches of England craving that God would by
his inspiration move the King’s heart to put an end to the wrongs of
his head church and of all his other churches by the appointment of a
worthy chief pastor.[1082] We thus see that the power of ending or
prolonging the vacancy is acknowledged to rest only with the King; it
is not for the Witan to constrain, but only for God to guide, the
royal will. But we further see that the right of ordaining religious
ceremonies is held to rest with the King and his Witan, just as it had
rested in the days of Cnut.[1083] The unanimous petition of the
Assembly was laid before the King. He was somewhat angry, but he took
no violent step. He agreed to the matter of the address, but in a
scornful shape. “Pray as you will; I shall do as I think good; no
man’s prayers will do anything to shake my will.”[1084] To draw up a
proper form of prayer was the natural business of the bishops; and
they had among them one specially skilled in such matters in the
person of Osmund of Salisbury. But they all agreed to consult the
Abbot of Bec, and to ask him to draw up a prayer fitted for the
purpose. Anselm, after much pressing, agreed; he drew up the prayer;
it was laid before the Assembly, and his work was approved by
all.[1085] The Gemót broke up, and prayers were offered throughout
England, according to Anselm’s model, for the appointment of an
archbishop, a prayer which on most lips doubtless meant the
appointment of Anselm himself.[1086]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: The year 1093.]
[Sidenote: William’s sickness at Alvestone.]
[Sidenote: Discourse about Anselm before the King.]
[Sidenote: The King’s mockery.]
[Sidenote: He falls sick and is moved to Gloucester.]
[Sidenote: Ash Wednesday, March 2, 1093.]
Before the Assembly broke up, a memorable year had begun. It is a year
crowded with events, with the deaths of memorable men, with one death
above all which led to most important results on the relations between
the two great parts of the isle of Britain. With these events I shall
deal in another chapter; we have now mainly to trace the
ecclesiastical character of the year as the greatest of all stages in
the career of Anselm. The Assembly had doubtless been held at
Gloucester, and, after the session was over, the King tarried in the
neighbourhood, at the royal house of Alvestone, once a lordship of
Earl Harold.[1087] There he was smitten with a heavy sickness. The
tale has a legendary sound; yet there is nothing really incredible in
the story that he fell sick directly after he had been guilty of a
mocking speech about Anselm. Some nobles were with the King at
Alvestone, and one of them spoke of the virtues of the Abbot of Bec.
He was a man who loved God only, and sought for none of the things of
this world. The King says in mockery, “Not for the archbishopric of
Canterbury?” The remark at least shows that Anselm and the
archbishopric went together in the King’s thoughts as well as in the
thoughts of other men.[1088] The lord who had spoken answered that, in
his belief and in that of many others, the archbishopric was the very
thing which Anselm least wished for.[1089] The King laughed again, and
said that, if Anselm had any hope of the archbishopric, he would clap
his hands and stamp with his feet, and run into the King’s arms. But
he added, “By the face of Lucca, he and every other man who seeks the
archbishopric may this time give way to me; for I will be archbishop
myself.”[1090] He repeated the jest several times. Presently sickness
came upon him, and, in a few hours, he took to his bed. He was carried
in haste from Alvestone to the neighbouring city, where he could
doubtless find better quarters and attendance.[1091] He lay sick
during the whole of Lent; but, unless his sickness began somewhat
earlier, the whole of the events with which we have to deal must have
been crowded into the first few days of the penitential season. At all
events, during the first week of Lent, William Rufus was lying at
Gloucester, sick of a sickness which both himself and others deemed to
be unto death.[1092]
[Sidenote: Repentance of Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Advice of the prelates and nobles.]
[Sidenote: Anselm sent for.]
[Sidenote: Anselm and Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Rufus promises amendment.]
[Sidenote: His proclamation.]
[Sidenote: General satisfaction.]
The heart of the Red King was not yet wholly hardened; with sickness
came repentance. Believing himself to be at the gates of the next
world, his conscience awoke, and he saw in their true light the deeds
which he had been so long doing in this world. He no longer jested at
his own crimes and vices; he bemoaned them and began to think of
amendment. The great men of the realm, bishops, abbots, and lay
nobles, pressed around his sick bed, looking for his speedy death, and
urging him to make what atonement he could for his misdeeds, while he
yet lived. Let him throw open his prisons; let him set free his
captives; let him loose those who were in chains; let him forgive his
debtors――it is again assumed that a debt to the Crown must be a
wrongful debt――let him provide pastors for the churches which he holds
in his hands; above all, let him set free the head church of all, the
church of Canterbury, whose bondage was the most crying wrong of his
kingdom.[1093] All this they pressed, each to the best of his power,
on the no longer unwilling mind of the King. It bethought them
moreover that there was one not far off, who was more skilled than any
of them in healing the diseases of the soul, and whose words would
strike deeper into the heart of the penitent than the words of any
other. The Abbot of Bec was still in England; he was even, knowing
nothing of what was going on, tarrying at no great distance from
Gloucester.[1094] A messenger was sent, bidding him come with all
speed; the King was dying, and needed his spiritual help before all
was over. Anselm came at once; he asked what had passed between the
sick man and his directors, and he fully approved of all the counsel
that they had given to the repentant sinner.[1095] The duties of
confession, of amendment, of reparation, the full and speedy carrying
out of all that his advisers had pressed upon him, was the only means,
the only hope. By the general voice of all, Anselm was bidden to
undertake the duty of making yet another exhortation to the royal
penitent. Anselm spoke, and William hearkened. He more than hearkened;
he answered, and for the moment he acted. He accepted all that Anselm
told him; he promised to amend his ways, to rule his kingdom in
mildness and righteousness. To this he pledged his faith; he made the
bishops his sureties, and bade them renew the promise in his name to
God before the altar.[1096] More practical still, a proclamation was
put forth under the royal seal, promising to the people, in the old
form, good laws, strict heed to right, strict examination into wrong.
The vacant churches should be filled, and their revenues should be
restored to them. The King would no longer sell them or set them to
farm. All prisoners should be set free; all debts to the crown should
be forgiven; all offences against the King should be pardoned, and all
suits begun in the King’s name stopped.[1097] Great was the joy
through the land; a burst of loyal thankfulness was in every heart and
on every mouth. The rule of King William was henceforth to be as the
rule of the best of the kings who had gone before him. Thanksgivings
went up to God through the whole land, and earnest prayers for the
welfare of so great and so good a king.[1098]
[Sidenote: Beginnings of reform.]
[Sidenote: He grants the bishopric of Lincoln to Robert Bloet.]
This was the second time that the people of England had greedily
swallowed the promises of the Red King. He had already deceived them
once; but kings are easily trusted, and the awful circumstances under
which reform was now promised might well lead men to believe that the
promise was sincere. Sincere for the moment it doubtless was; nor did
the proclamation remain altogether a dead letter. The reforms were
actually begun; some at least of the prisoners were set free. William
also now made grants to some monasteries,[1099] and, what was more
important than all, he filled the vacant bishoprics. The fame of one
of the two appointments so fills the pages of our guides that we might
easily forget that it was now that the staff of Remigius was given to
Robert Bloet.[1100] We have heard of him already as an old servant of
William the Great, and as trusted by him with the weighty letter which
ruled the succession of the crown on behalf of William the Red.[1101]
He was now the King’s Chancellor. He bears a doubtful character; he
was not a scholar, but he was a man skilful in all worldly business;
he was not a saint, but he was perhaps not the extreme sinner which
some have painted him.[1102] His consecration was put off for nearly a
year; and we shall meet him again in the midst of a striking and busy
scene when the next year has begun. For the present we need only
remember that two bishops, and not one only, were invested, according
to the ancient use of England, by the royal hand at the bedside of
William Rufus.
[Sidenote: March 6, 1093.]
[Sidenote: Rufus names Anselm to the archbishopric.]
[Sidenote: General delight.]
[Sidenote: Unwillingness of Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Arguments of the bishops.]
We may take for granted that it took no such struggle to change the
King’s Chancellor into the Bishop-elect of Lincoln as it took
to change the man on whom all eyes were now fixed into an
Archbishop-elect of Canterbury. It was now a Sunday, the first Sunday
in Lent; a gathering of bishops and other chief men stood around the
King who was believed to be dying. He had solemnly repented; he must
now make restitution. The best men among those who stood around him
pressed yet more strongly on his mind the duty of at once filling the
metropolitan see. The sick man answered that such was his purpose.
They asked whom he deemed worthy of such a post; none dared suggest
any name; the choice rested wholly with the royal will.[1103] The King
made an effort; he sat up in his bed; he pointed out the Abbot of Bec
among those who filled the room, and spake the words; “I choose this
holy man Anselm.”[1104] The feeling which now bids men to listen in
silence to the official utterances of royal lips was then unheard of;
even the fear of danger to the sick man yielded to the universal joy;
a loud shout of applause rang through the chamber which was soon, as
men deemed, to be the chamber of death. One man alone joined not in
the shout; one man grew pale and trembled in every limb. The moment so
long dreaded had at last come; the burthen from which he shrank was at
last to be forced on the shoulders of the struggling abbot. For in the
case of Anselm the struggle was no metaphor. He was dragged to the
King’s bedside to receive the investiture[1105]――no thought of the
elective rights of the monks of distant Christ Church seems to have
come into the head of any man. Pouring out reasons against his own
appointment, Anselm withstood by main force all efforts to drag him
nearer to the King. The bishops at last succeeded in drawing him apart
from the crowd, and began to argue with him more quietly.[1106] They
warned him not to withstand the will of God, or to refuse the work to
which he was called. He saw that Christianity had almost died out in
England; everything had fallen into confusion; every abomination was
rife. One bolder voice――was it the voice of English Wulfstan or of
Norman Gundulf?――added words such as are not often uttered in the
chamber of a king, and which even then perhaps were not meant to reach
kingly ears. “By the tyranny of that man”[1107]――pointing to the sick
king on his bed――“we and the churches which we ought to rule have
fallen into danger of eternal death; wilt thou, when thou canst help
us, scorn our petition?” The appeal went on; Anselm was told how the
church of Canterbury, in whose oppression all were oppressed, called
to him to raise up her and them; could he, casting aside all thought
for her freedom, all thought for the help of his brethren, refuse to
share their work, and seek only his own ease? Anselm pleaded at
length; he was old; he was unused to worldly affairs. He prayed to be
allowed to abide in the peaceful calling which he loved. The bishops
all the more called on him to take the rule over them which was
offered to him; let him guide them in the way of God; let him pray to
God for them, and they would manage all worldly affairs for him.[1108]
He then pleaded that he was the subject of another realm;[1109] he
owed obedience to his own prince, to his own archbishop; he could not
cast off his duty to them without their leave; nay, he could not,
without the consent of his own monks, cast off the duties which he
owed to them. The bishops told him that the consent of all concerned
would be easily gained. He protested that all that they did, all that
they purposed, was nought.[1110]
[Sidenote: Anselm dragged to the King’s bedside.]
[Sidenote: Pleadings of the King.]
[Sidenote: Further pleadings of the bishops]
[Sidenote: and of his own monks.]
[Sidenote: He is invested by main force.]
[Sidenote: He is installed in the church.]
The bishops had certainly the better in the argument; they had also
the better in the physical struggle; for they now dragged Anselm close
to the King’s bedside. They set forth to Rufus what they called the
obstinacy of the Abbot;[1111] it was for the King to try what his
personal authority could do. The sick man, lately so proud and
scornful, was stirred even to tears; he made a speech far longer than
his wont, but which seems to carry with it the stamp of genuineness.
He had raised himself to speak his formal choice with a voice of
authority; he now spoke, in plaintive and beseeching words, in the ear
of the holy man beside him. In the mind of Rufus at that moment it was
his own personal salvation that was at stake. “O Anselm,” he
whispered, “why do you condemn me to eternal torments? Remember, I
pray you, the faithful friendship which my father and my mother had to
you and which you had to them; by that friendship I adjure you not to
let their son perish both in body and soul. For I am sure that I shall
perish if I die while I still have the archbishopric in my
hands.[1112] Help me then, help me, lord and father; take the
bishopric for the holding of which I am already greatly confounded,
and fear that I shall be confounded for ever.” Still Anselm drew back
and excused himself. Then the bishops again took up their parable in a
stronger tone. What madness had possessed him? He was harassing the
King, almost killing him; his last moments were embittered by Anselm’s
obstinacy.[1113] They gave him to know that whatever disturbances,
oppressions, and crimes, might hereafter disturb England would all lie
at his door, if he did not stop them that day by taking on him the
pastoral care. Still――so he himself witnessed afterwards――wishing
rather, if it were God’s will, to die than to take on him the
archbishopric, he turned to two of his own monks who had come with
him, Eustace and Baldwin of Tournay, and asked them to help him.[1114]
Baldwin answered, “If it be the will of God that it shall be so, who
are we that we should withstand the will of God?” His words were
followed by a flood of tears, his tears by a gush of blood from his
nostrils. Anselm, surely half-smiling, said, “Alas, how soon is your
staff broken.” The King then, seeing that nothing was gained, bade the
bishops fall at Anselm’s feet and implore him to take the see. A like
scene had been gone through at Bec when it was first sought to raise
Anselm to the abbacy.[1115] The bishops fell at his feet, and
implored; Anselm fell at their feet, and implored back again. There
was nothing to be done save the last shift of, so to speak, investing
him with the bishopric by physical force. A cry was raised for a
pastoral staff; the staff was brought, and was placed in the sick
king’s hand.[1116] The bishops seized the right arm of Anselm; some
pushed; some pulled; he was forced close up to the Kings bed. The King
held out the staff; the Abbot, though his arm was stretched out
against his will, held his hand firmly clenched. The bishops strove to
force open his fingers, till he shrieked with the pain. After much
striving, they managed to raise his forefinger, to place the staff
between that one finger and his still closed hand, and to keep it
there with their own hands.[1117] This piece of sheer violence was
held to be a lawful investiture. The assembled crowd――we are still in
the sick king’s room――began to shout “Long live the Bishop.” The
bishops and clergy began to sing _Te Deum_ with a loud voice.[1118]
Then the bishops, abbots, and nobles, seized Anselm, and carried
rather than led him into a neighbouring church――was it the great
minster of Ealdred or its successor growing up under the hands of
Serlo?[1119]――while he still refused and struggled and protested that
all that they did went for nothing.[1120] A looker-on, Anselm himself
says, might have doubted whether a crowd in their right mind were
dragging a single madman, or whether a crowd of madmen were dragging a
single man who kept his right mind.[1121] Anyhow they reached the
church and there went through the ceremonies which were usual on such
occasions.[1122] Anselm was now deemed to have become, however much
against his own will, Archbishop-elect of Canterbury.
[Sidenote: Anselm’s renewed protest.]
[Sidenote: His parable to the prelates and nobles.]
[Sidenote: Its special fitness in England.]
[Sidenote: The King orders the restitution of the lands of the see.]
From the church Anselm went back to the King’s chamber. He there
renewed his protest against the appointment, but he renewed it in the
form of a prophecy. “My lord the King, I tell you that you will not
die of this sickness; I would therefore have you know how easily you
can undo what has been this day done with regard to me, as I never
agreed, nor do I agree, that it shall be held valid.”[1123] He then
left the sick room, and spoke to the bishops and nobles in some other
place, perhaps the hall of the castle. Whether formally summoned as
such or not, they were practically a Gemót of the realm.[1124] Anselm
spoke to them in a parable, founded on the apostolic figure which
speaks of the Church as God’s husbandry.[1125] In England the plough
of the Church ought to be drawn by two chief oxen of equal strength,
each pulling with the same good will. These were the King and the
Archbishop of Canterbury, one ruling by worldly justice and dominion,
the other by divine doctrine and teaching. So, he implies, it had
been in the days of William the Great and of Lanfranc his
yoke-fellow.[1126] The figure is one which will bear much study. It is
perhaps in England alone that it could have been used. In the highest
rank of all, used to the loftier metaphors of the two great lights of
heaven and the two swords on earth, figures drawn from ploughs and
oxen might have seemed unworthy of the supreme majesty of the Roman
Emperor and the Roman Pontiff. In other lands the metaphor would have
failed from another side. The Primate of Rheims or of Rouen could
hardly be spoken of as in the same sort the yoke-fellow of the French
King or the Norman Duke. In England the parable had more truth. It set
forth at once the supreme ecclesiastical authority of the King, and
the check which ancient custom put on that authority in the shape of
an archiepiscopal tribune of the people. But the happy partnership of
the two powers had come to an end. The strong ox Lanfranc was dead.
His surviving yoke-fellow was a young and untameable wild bull.[1127]
With him they wished to yoke an old and feeble sheep, who might
perhaps furnish them with the wool and milk of the Lord’s word, and
with lambs for His service,[1128] but who was utterly unequal to the
task of pulling in fellowship with such a comrade. His weakness and
the King’s fierceness could never work together. If they would only
think over the matter, they would give up the attempt which they had
begun. The joy with which they had hailed his nomination would be
turned into sorrow. They talked of his raising up the Church from
widowhood; if they insisted on forcing him into the see, the Church
would be thrust down into a yet deeper widowhood, widowhood during the
life of her pastor. He himself would be the first victim; none of them
would dare to give him help, and then the King would trample them too
under his feet at pleasure. He then burst into tears; he parted from
the assembly, and went to his own quarters, whether in the city of
Gloucester or at the unnamed place where he had before been
staying.[1129] The King, foreseeing no further difficulties, gave
orders that steps should be taken for investing him without delay with
the temporal possessions of the see.[1130] But a whole train of
unlooked-for hindrances appeared before Anselm could be put into
possession of either the temporal or the spiritual powers of Lanfranc.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: The royal right of investiture not questioned.]
[Sidenote: No scruples on the part of Anselm.]
[Sidenote: No ecclesiastical election.]
[Sidenote: Later change in Anselm’s views.]
[Sidenote: Gundulf’s letter to the monks of Bec.]
[Sidenote: Sole action of the King.]
At this first stage of the story, as at every other, as long as the
scene is laid in England, we are struck in the strongest way by the
fact that every one concerned takes the ancient customs of England for
granted. If those customs have changed from what they may have been
under Cnut or Eadward, they have at least not changed to the advantage
of the Roman see, or indeed of the ecclesiastical power in any shape.
Hildebrand has no followers either in England or in Normandy. No one
has called in question the right either of the King of the English or
of the Duke of the Normans to invest the prelates of his dominions
with the pastoral staff. There is not one word in the whole story
implying that any one had any scruple on the subject. Anselm clearly
had none. He had received the staff of Bec from the Duke; if he was
not ready to receive the staff of Canterbury from the King, it was not
because of any scruple as to the mode of appointment, but because he
refused to accept the appointment itself, however made. Not a single
English bishop has a word to say on the matter. We could not look for
such scruples in Wulfstan who had received his staff from the holy
Eadward; but neither do they trouble William of Saint-Calais, so
lately the zealous champion of the rights of Rome. If anything, the
bishops seem to attribute a kind of mystic and almost sacramental
efficacy to the investiture by the King’s hand. Nor is there a word
said as to the rights of any ecclesiastical electors, the monks of
Christ Church or any other. It is taken for granted that the whole
matter rests with the King. Anselm protests against the validity of
the act, but not on any ground which assumed any other elector than
the King. The nomination was invalid, because he did not consent to it
himself, because the Duke of the Normans, the Archbishop of Rouen, and
the monks of Bec, had not consented to it. Anselm is very careful as
to the rights of all these three; he has not a word to say about the
rights of the monks of Christ Church. Had he been a subject of the
crown of England, a bishop or presbyter of the province of Canterbury,
and himself willing to accept the archbishopric, there would clearly
have been in his eyes nothing irregular in his accepting it in the
form in which it was forced upon him, by the sole choice and sole
investiture of the King. He afterwards learned to think otherwise; but
it was neither at Canterbury nor at Bec nor at Aosta that he learned
such scruples. He had to go beyond English, Norman, and Burgundian
ground to look for them. At present he does at every stage, as an
ordinary matter of course, something which his later lights would have
led him to condemn. But it certainly does seem strange when Bishop
Gundulf of Rochester, in a letter to his old companions the monks of
Bec, tells them that the King had given the government of the church
of Canterbury to their abbot Anselm, by the advice and request of his
great men and by the petition and election of the clergy and
people.[1131] We have often come across such phrases;[1132] and this
case, where we know every detail, may help us to estimate their
meaning in some other cases. That Anselm’s appointment had been the
general wish of all classes before it was made, that it received the
general approval of all classes after it was made, there is no manner
of doubt. But there is no sign of any formal advice, petition, or
election, by any class of men at any stage. It may be that the
ceremony in the church at Gloucester was held to pass for an election
by the clergy and people. But that was after the King had, by the
delivery of the staff, given to Anselm the government of the church of
Canterbury. Even in Gundulf’s formula, the advice, petition, and
election are mere helps to guide the King’s choice; it is the King who
actually bestows the see. And here again, of the rights of the monks
of the metropolitan church there is not a word.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Anselm tarries with Gundulf.]
[Sidenote: Consent of the Duke, the Archbishop of Rouen, and the monks
of Bec.]
Several months passed after this amazing scene at Gloucester before
Anselm was fully admitted to the full possession of the archbishopric.
He had not yet given any consent himself, and the consents of the
Norman Duke, the Norman Archbishop, and the Norman monks, on all of
which Anselm laid such stress, were still to be sought for. The King
sent messengers to all of them, and meanwhile Anselm was, by the
King’s order, lodged on some of the archiepiscopal manors under the
care of his old friend Bishop Gundulf.[1133] One may suspect that it
was the influence of this prelate, a good man plainly, but not very
stout-hearted, and more ready than Anselm to adapt himself to the
ruling powers, which brought Anselm to the belief that he ought to
give way to what he himself calls the choice of all England, and which
he now allows to be the will of God. At any rate Anselm brought
himself to write letters to the monks of Bec, asking their consent to
his resignation of the abbey and acceptance of the archbishopric.[1134]
For it was with the monks of Bec that the difficulty lay; Duke Robert
and Archbishop William seem to have made no objection.[1135] It was,
after much hesitation, and by a narrow majority only that the convent
agreed to part with the abbot who had brought such honour upon their
house.[1136] In the end all the needful consents were given. Anselm
was free from all obligations beyond the sea. But he still had not
given his own formal consent to the acceptance of the archbishopric. A
long series of acts, temporal and spiritual, were needed to change the
simple monk and presbyter, as he was now once more, into an Archbishop
of Canterbury, clothed with the full powers and possessions of the
Patriarch of all the nations beyond the sea. Those acts needed the
consent, some of them needed the personal action, of the King. And
King William the Red was now again quite another man from what he had
been when he lay on his sick bed at Gloucester.
[Sidenote: The King’s recovery.]
[Sidenote: The Easter Gemót. 1093.]
[Sidenote: William falls back into evil ways.]
[Sidenote: His renewed blasphemy.]
[Sidenote: He recalls his acts of mercy.]
[Sidenote: He keeps his purpose as to Anselm.]
The King’s sickness is said to have lasted during the whole of Lent;
but he seems to have been restored to health early enough to hold the
Easter Gemót at Winchester.[1137] Anselm was there, in company with
his guardian Bishop Gundulf and his friend Baldwin the monk of Bec;
but there is no mention of any business being done between him and the
King. Doubtless the needful letters had not yet come from Normandy,
even if Anselm had so soon brought himself to write those which were
needful on his own part. By this time William was again in full
health, and, with his former state of body, his former state of mind
had also come back. He had repented of his repentance; he had fallen
back into all his old evil courses with more eagerness than ever. All
the wrong that he had done before he fell sick was deemed to be a
small matter compared with the wrong which he did after he was
restored to health.[1138] It is to this stage of his life that one of
the most hideous of his blasphemous sayings is assigned. Instead of
thankfulness for his renewed health, he looked on his sickness as a
wrong done to him by his Maker, for which he would in some way have
his revenge. It was now that he told Bishop Gundulf, whom we can fancy
faintly exhorting him to keep in the good frame of mind which he had
put on while he lay on his sick bed――“God shall never see me a good
man; I have suffered too much at his hands.”[1139] And his practice
was such as became the fool who said that there was no God, or rather
the deeper fool who said that there was a God, and yet defied him. He
even went on to undo, as far as lay in his power, the good works which
he had done during his momentary repentance. Some of the prisoners to
whom he had promised deliverance were already set free, and some of
those who were set free had taken themselves beyond his reach. But
those who were still in safe-keeping were kept in yet harsher bondage
than before; and of those who had been set free as many as could be
laid hold of were sent back to their prisons. The pardons, the
remissions of debts, which had been put forth were recalled. Every man
who had been held liable before the King’s sickness was held liable
again. His gifts to monasteries were also recalled.[1140] But one
thing which William had promised to do he remained as fully minded to
do as before. At no stage did he show the slightest purpose of
recalling his grant of the archbishopric to Anselm. This distinction
is quite in harmony with the general character of William Rufus. The
reforms which he had promised, and which he had partly carried out,
were part of the ordinary duty of a man in that state of life to which
William had been called, the state of a king. As such, they were
reckoned by him among those promises which it was beyond his power to
fulfil. But his engagement to Anselm was of another kind. To say
nothing of Anselm being the old friend of his father, his engagement
to him was strictly personal. If it was not exactly done in the
character of a good knight, it was done as the act of a man to a man.
It was like a safe-conduct; it touched, not so much William’s kingly
duty as his personal honour. William’s honour did not keep him back
from annoying and insulting Anselm, or from haggling with him about
money in a manner worthy of the chivalrous Richard himself. But it did
keep him back from any attempt to undo his own personal act and
promise. He had prayed Anselm to take the archbishopric; he had forced
the staff, as far as might be, into Anselm’s unwilling hand. From that
act he would not draw back, though he was quite ready to get any
advantage for himself that might be had in the way of carrying it out.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Events of March-December, 1093.]
[Sidenote: Affairs of England and Wales.]
[Sidenote: Dealings between William and Malcolm.]
[Sidenote: Designs of Rufus on Normandy.]
[Sidenote: Action of William of Eu.]
[Sidenote: His divided allegiance.]
[Sidenote: He suggests an attack on Normandy.]
[Sidenote: William and Robert Count of Flanders.]
[Sidenote: Death of Count Robert. October 4 or 13, 1093.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Jerusalem.]
[Sidenote: Relation between William and the Flemish Counts.]
But we must not fancy that the affairs of Anselm and of the see to
which he had been so strangely called were the only matters which
occupied the mind of England during this memorable year. The months
which passed between the first nomination of Anselm and his
consecration to the archbishopric, that is, the months from March to
December, were a busy time in affairs of quite another kind than the
appointment of pastors of the Church. The events of those months
chiefly concerned the relations of England to the other parts of the
island, Welsh and Scottish, and I shall speak of them at length in
another chapter. Here it is enough to say that the very week of the
Easter Gemót was marked by striking events in Wales,[1141] and that
during the whole time from March to August, negotiations were going on
between William and Malcolm of Scotland. In August Malcolm came
personally to Gloucester, but William refused to see him. Malcolm then
went home in wrath, and took his revenge in a fifth and last invasion
of England, in the course of which he was killed near Alnwick in the
month of November. By that time Anselm was already enthroned, but not
yet consecrated. The main telling of the two stories must be kept
apart; but it is well always to keep the joint chronology of the two
in mind. In reading the Lives of Anselm, where secular affairs are
mentioned only casually, we might sometimes forget how stirring a time
the year of Anselm’s appointment was in other ways; while the general
writers of the time, as I have already noticed,[1142] tell us less
about Anselm than we should have looked for. The affairs of Scotland
and the affairs of Anselm were going on at the same time; and along
with them a third chain of affairs must have begun of which we shall
hear much in the next year. Rufus was by this time already planning a
second attack on his brother in Normandy. Except during the short
season of his penitence, he was doubtless ready for such an enterprise
at any moment. And this same year, seemingly in the course of its
summer, a special tempter came over from beyond sea. This was William
of Eu, of whom we have already heard as the King’s enemy and of whom
we shall hear again in the same character, but who just now appears as
the King’s counsellor. As the owner of vast English estates, he had
played a leading part in the first rebellion against William, with the
object of uniting England and Normandy under a single prince.[1143]
That object he still sought; but he now sought to gain it by other
means. He had learned which of the brothers was the more useful master
to serve. He was now, by the death of his father, Count of Eu, and Eu
was among the parts of Normandy which Robert had yielded to
William.[1144] For Eu then Count William was the man of King William;
but he was still the man of Duke Robert for some other parts of his
possessions. He thought it his interest to serve one lord only; he
accordingly threw off his allegiance to Robert, and came over to
England to stir up William to take possession of the whole
duchy.[1145] And it must surely have been in connexion with these
affairs that, at some time between March and September, William had an
interview with Count Robert of Flanders at Dover. By this description
we are doubtless to understand the elder Count Robert, the famous
Frisian, of whom we have already heard as an enemy to the elder
William,[1146] but who must now have been at least on terms of peace
with his son. He was drawing near the end of his life, a memorable
life, nearly the last act of which had been honourable indeed. He had,
several years before the preaching of the crusade, sent a body of the
choicest warriors of Flanders to defend Eastern Christendom against
the Turk.[1147] Robert died in October of this year, and was succeeded
by his son Robert of Jerusalem,[1148] a name which the father had an
equal right to bear. The younger Robert had been associated by his
father in the government of the county; but one may suppose that, when
our guide speaks of Robert Count of Flanders, it is the elder Robert
who is meant. He was the enemy of the elder William rather in his
Norman than in his English character, and his enmity may have passed
to his successor in the duchy and not to his successor in the kingdom.
One can hardly help thinking that this meeting of William of England
and Robert of Flanders had some reference to joint operations designed
against Robert of Normandy. But, if so, the alliance was put an end to
by the death of Robert the Frisian, and, when the time for his Norman
enterprise came, William had to carry it on without Flemish help.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Interview between Anselm and the King at Rochester.]
By this time Anselm had received the letters from Normandy which were
to make him free to accept the archbishopric; but the letters to the
King from the same parties had not yet come. At this stage then Anselm
wished for an interview with the King, the first――unless they met at
Easter at Winchester――since they had parted in the sick room at
Gloucester. William was on his way back from his meeting with the
Count of Flanders at Dover; he came to Rochester, where Anselm was
then staying with Bishop Gundulf. There Anselm took the King aside,
and laid the case before him as it then stood.
[Sidenote: Anselm’s position.]
Anselm was at this moment, in his own view, a private man. He was no
longer Abbot of Bec. His monks had released him from that office, and
he had formally resigned it by sending back to them the pastoral
staff.[1149] He was not yet Archbishop of Canterbury; he was not yet,
in his own view, even Archbishop-elect; all that had been done at
Gloucester he counted for null and void. But he was now free to accept
the archbishopric, and, though he still did not wish for the post, he
had got over the scruples which had before led him to refuse it. In
such a case he deemed it his duty to be perfectly frank with the King,
and to tell him on what terms only he would accept the primacy, if the
King still persisted in offering it to him.
[Sidenote: His conditions with the King.]
[Sidenote: Restoration of the estates of the see.]
[Sidenote: He demands to be the King’s spiritual guide.]
The conditions which Anselm now laid before William Rufus were three.
The first of them had to do with the temporal estates of the
archbishopric. I have elsewhere spoken of the light in which we ought
to look at demands of this kind.[1150] We may be sure that Anselm
would gladly have purchased the peace of the land, the friendship of
the King, or anything that would profit the souls or bodies of other
men, at the cost of any temporal possessions which were strictly his
own to give up. But, if he became Archbishop of Canterbury, he would
become a steward of the church of Canterbury, a trustee for his
successors, the guardian of gifts which had been given to God, His
saints, and His Church. In any of these characters, it would be a sin
against his own soul and the souls of others, if he willingly allowed
anything which had ever been given to his church to be taken from her
or detained from her. If the King chose to keep the see vacant and to
turn its revenues to his own use, that would be his sin and not
Anselm’s; but Anselm would be a sharer in the sin, if he accepted the
see without requiring full restitution of everything to which the see
had a lawful claim. In the private conference at Rochester, he
therefore demanded, as a condition of his accepting the see, that he
should receive all that Lanfranc had held, without delay or dispute or
process in any court. As for lands to which his church had an ancient
claim, but which Lanfranc had been unable to win back, for those he
demanded that the King should do him justice in his court.[1151] The
second demand touched the ancient relations between the crown and the
archbishopric. The sheep, about to be yoked with the wild bull, sought
to make terms with his fierce comrade. Anselm demanded that, in all
matters which touched God and Christianity, the King should take him
as his counsellor before all other men; as he acknowledged in the King
his earthly lord, so let the King acknowledge in him his ghostly
father and the special guardian of his soul.[1152]
[Sidenote: Acknowledgement of Popes.]
[Sidenote: Schism in the papacy. Victor the Third. 1086-1087. Urban
the Second. 1088-1099. Urban and Clement.]
[Sidenote: English feeling on the subject.]
[Sidenote: Anselm requires to be allowed to acknowledge Urban.]
To these two requests Anselm added a third, one which touched a point
on which the Red King seems to have been specially sensitive. It had
been the rule of his father’s reign that no Pope should be
acknowledged in England without his consent.[1153] William Rufus seems
to have construed this rule in the same way in which he construed some
others. From his right to nominate to bishoprics and abbeys he had
inferred a right not to nominate to them; so, from his right to judge
between contending popes, he inferred the right to do without
acknowledging any pope at all. And, if the King acted in this way for
his own ends, the country at large seems to have shown a remarkable
indifference to the whole controversy. To Englishmen and to men
settled in England it was clearly a much greater grievance to be kept
without an Archbishop of Canterbury than it was to be left uncertain
who was the lawful pope. At this moment the Western Church was divided
between the claims of Wibert or Clement, the Imperial anti-pope of the
days of Hildebrand, and those of Urban, formerly Odo of Ostia, who,
after the short reign of Victor, stepped into Hildebrand’s place. In
the eyes of strict churchmen Urban was the true Vicar of Christ, and
Wibert was a wicked intruder and schismatic. Yet it will be remembered
that Lanfranc himself had, when the dispute lay between Wibert and
Hildebrand, spoken with singular calmness and caution of a question
which to more zealous minds seemed a matter of spiritual life and
death.[1154] Our own Chronicler seems to have measured popes, as well
as kings and bishops, by the standard of possession; he found it hard
to conceive a pope that “nothing had of the settle at Rome.”[1155]
Even Anselm’s own biographer speaks very quietly on the point. Two
rival candidates claimed the popedom; but which was the one rightly
chosen no one in England, we are told, knew――or seemingly cared.[1156]
Another of our guides describes Urban and Clement as alike men of
personal merit, and looks on the controversy as one in which there was
much to be said on both sides. The chief argument for Urban was that
his supporters seemed to increase in number; otherwise no one really
knew on which side the divine right was. In England opinion was
divided; but fear of the King――so we are told――made it lean on the
whole to Clement.[1157] Earlier in the reign we have heard Bishop
William of Durham talk a great deal about going to the Pope; but he
had taken care not to say to which pope he meant to go, and in the end
he had not gone to either.[1158] With Anselm the matter was more
serious. Urban was his pope. All the churches of Gaul had acknowledged
him; Bec and the other churches of Normandy had acknowledged him along
with the rest.[1159] From the obedience which he had thus plighted he
could not fall back. He told the King that, though he, King William,
had not acknowledged Urban, yet he, Anselm, must continue to
acknowledge him and to yield him such obedience as was his due.[1160]
To be allowed freely to do so must be one of the conditions of his
accepting the archbishopric.
[Sidenote: The King’s counsellors; Count Robert and Bishop William.]
[Sidenote: The Bishop’s new policy.]
[Sidenote: The King’s answer.]
The King’s answer was unsatisfactory, but not openly hostile. He was
however beginning to be on his guard; he called to his side the two
subtlest advisers that the Church and realm of England could supply.
The one was Count Robert of Meulan, at home alike in England,
Normandy, and France. The other was William Bishop of Durham, once the
strong assertor of ecclesiastical claims, who had appealed to the Pope
against the judgement of the King and his Witan. He had indeed both
learned and forgotten something in his exile. He had come back to be
the special counsellor of Rufus, the special enemy of Anselm, the
special assertor of the doctrine that it was for the King alone to
judge as to the acknowledgement of Popes. The King, having listened to
Anselm, sent for these two chosen advisers. He bade Anselm say over
again in their hearing what he had before said privately. He then, by
their advice, answered that he would restore to the see everything
that had been held by Lanfranc; on other points he would not as yet
make any positive engagement.[1161]
[Sidenote: The letters come from Normandy.]
[Sidenote: The King prays Anselm to take the archbishopric.]
[Sidenote: He asks for the confirmation of grants made by him during
the vacancy.]
[Sidenote: Anselm refuses.]
Up to this time the King had not yet received his expected letters
from Normandy. They presently came, and Rufus evidently thought that
some step on his part ought to follow. He had asked the Duke, the
Archbishop, and the monks of Bec, to set Anselm free to accept the
archbishopric. They had done so at his request. Unless then he wished
to make fools of himself and of everybody else, he could not help
again offering the see to the man whom he had himself chosen, and who
was now free to take it. He sent for Anselm to Windsor, where he now
was; he prayed him no longer to refuse the choice of the whole
realm;[1162] but in so doing, he fell back somewhat from the one
distinct promise which he had made at Rochester. When the estates of
the see came into his hands on the death of Lanfranc, he had granted
out parts of them on tenure of knight-service. These grants he asked
Anselm, as a matter of friendship to himself, to allow.[1163] Was
William merely seeking an excuse for backing altogether out of his
offer of the archbishopric, or did he feel himself bound in honour to
the men to whom he had made the grants? If so, his scruple of honour
was met by Anselm’s scruple of conscience. Anselm would not be a party
to any alienation of the goods of the Church; above all, he would not
make any agreement about such matters before he was invested with any
part of them.[1164] The point clearly is that so to do would be more
than wasting the estates of the Church; it would be obtaining the
archbishopric by a corrupt bargain. To agree to give up the estates of
the see to the King’s grantees would be the same thing as obtaining
the see by a bribe to the King. Anselm therefore refused to consent to
the grants which the King had made during the vacancy. The whole
matter thus came to a standstill. Rufus refused the investiture unless
his grants were to stand good. Anselm went away rejoicing.
[Sidenote: Anselm’s statement of the case.]
[Sidenote: Nature of the King’s grants.]
[Sidenote: The King’s case.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s argument.]
[Sidenote: The King’s _advocatio_ of the archbishopric.]
The whole case was set forth at length by Anselm in a letter to his
friend Hugh Archbishop of Lyons, the head prelate of his native
Burgundy.[1165] The alienation to which Anselm was asked to consent
was called by the King a “voluntary justice,” a phrase which has a
technical sound, but the meaning of which is not very clear.[1166] The
King’s argument was that, before the Normans invaded England, the
lands in question had been held of the archbishopric by English
thegns, that those thegns had died without heirs, and that it was open
to the King to give them what heirs he would.[1167] It was certainly
strange, if, on the one hand, not one of these thegns had been
constrained to make way for a Norman successor, and if, on the other
hand, not one of them had left a son to succeed him. But we must take
the fact as it is stated. Rufus seems to mean that, during Lanfranc’s
incumbency, the lands which these thegns had held of the see had
fallen back to the lord for lack of heirs, and had become demesne
lands of the archbishopric. The King asserts his right, during the
vacancy of the see, to grant out such lands by knight-service, service
to be paid of course to the King as long as the vacancy lasted, but
seemingly to the Archbishop, as soon as there should be an archbishop
in possession. If this was the argument, an argument which savours of
the subtlety of Flambard, there is, from Flambard’s point of view, a
good deal that is plausible about it. The King, as temporary lord,
claims to deal with the land as any other lord might do, and, when his
temporary lordship comes to an end, he calls on the incoming lord to
respect his acts. The legal question would seem to be whether the new
doctrine which gave the King the temporary profits of the
archbishopric gave him any right to turn its demesne lands into fiefs.
Anselm’s argument seems to be that anyhow the possessions of the
archbishopric were practically lessened, as they undoubtedly were.
Experience showed that such a lordship as the see would keep over the
lands so granted out would be both hard to enforce and of little value
if enforced.[1168] Practically the grants were an alienation of the
lands of the see. And to this Anselm could not consent. Open robbery
from some quarter which owed no special duty to the archbishopric he
might bear, and in such a case there would be more hope of gaining
back what was lost by the help of the law.[1169] But for the King, the
advocate of the see, and for himself, its guardian, to come to an
agreement whereby the see would be damaged, was a thing to which
Anselm would never consent.[1170] In this argument we hear the word
_advocate_, the equivalent of the modern _patron_, in its elder sense.
The _advocatio_, the _advowson_, of an ecclesiastical benefice carries
with it, not only the right to name the incumbent of that benefice,
but also the duty of acting as its protector.[1171] For the King, the
advocate of the see of Canterbury, to do anything against its rights
was a greater crime than if another man did the same. For the
Archbishop to betray the rights of his church and his successors was a
greater crime still. And if King and Archbishop agreed to any such
spoliation, all other men would naturally hold that the act could not
be questioned. On these grounds Anselm refused to consent to the
King’s grants. He left the royal presence trusting that he was now
free from the burthen of ecclesiastical rule in any shape. He had been
set free from the abbatial rule of Bec; he had escaped being loaded
with the primatial rule of Canterbury. He was, as he wished to be, a
private man.[1172]
[Sidenote: Public feeling since the nomination at Gloucester.]
[Sidenote: Gemót at Winchester.]
[Sidenote: The King renews his promises.]
[Sidenote: Anselm receives the archbishopric, and does homage.]
But a private man Anselm was not to remain. After the scene in the
sick room at Gloucester, neither William nor Anselm could act exactly
as if that scene had never taken place. The momentary repentance of
the King, and the acts done during the time of that repentance, had
given a strength to public opinion which even William Rufus could not
despise. The old abuses, the old oppressions, began again; but men
were now less disposed to put up with them than they had been before.
They would no longer go on without an archbishop, after an archbishop,
and Anselm as that archbishop, had been more than promised, after he
had been given to them. The general murmur became so loud that the
King had to give way.[1173] He could no longer help giving the
archbishopric to Anselm, and that on Anselm’s own terms. And what he
did, he did in the most solemn and, as far as outward appearances
went, the most thorough manner. An extraordinary Gemót of the
kingdom――for the season was neither Christmas, Easter, nor
Pentecost――was summoned to Winchester. In the presence of the
assembled Witan, William Rufus, in full health, renewed the promises
which he had made in his sickness. The wrongs done in his kingdom,
above all, the wrongs done to the Church, were a second time to come
to an end.[1174] Anselm was exhorted, and at last persuaded, to accept
the archbishopric. He received it, seemingly without scruple,
according to the ancient use of England; he became the man of the
King.[1175] Anselm kneeling before Rufus, with his pure hands between
the polluted hands of the King, pledging himself as the King’s man for
all earthly worship, makes a scene which it is strange to think
of.[1176] The deed was now done, and it could not be recalled. Bishop
in the spiritual sense Anselm was not as yet; but he was the legal
possessor of all the temporal estates and temporal jurisdiction of the
see of Canterbury.
[Sidenote: The King’s writ.]
[Sidenote: The Archbishop’s thegns.]
[Sidenote: Clauses in favour of the monks.]
[Sidenote: The city of Canterbury and abbey of Saint Alban’s.]
[Sidenote: Anselm and Saint Alban’s.]
[Sidenote: Death of Abbot Paul. 1093.]
[Sidenote: Vacancy of the abbey.]
The act which had just been done had now to be announced to the whole
nation in the ancient form. The writ of King William went forth,
announcing to all the King’s faithful men, French and English, that he
had granted to Anselm the archbishopric of Canterbury, with all the
rights, powers, and possessions――rights, powers, and possessions,
recited in the English tongue――which belonged to the see, with all
liberties over all his men, within boroughs and without. And words
were added which seemed meant expressly to enforce Anselm’s view of
the point last in dispute. The new archbishop was to have all these
liberties over as many thegns as King Eadward the King’s kinsman had
granted to the see of Christ Church. This can hardly mean anything
except the annulling of the grants which the King had made during the
vacancy.[1177] Anselm was to have all such temporal rights as had been
lawfully held by Lanfranc, as had been before him unlawfully held by
Stigand. The writ further contains provisions on behalf of the
metropolitan monastery. The estates of the convent were distinct from
those of the see; still, in such a time of unlaw, it is likely that
some excuse had been found to do them some wrong also. To the monks of
Christ Church therefore the King confirms all their rights and
possessions, with all the tolls and dues from the haven of Sandwich;
no man, French or English, should meddle with them or their
servants.[1178] Our Canterbury guide speaks also of a renewed grant,
on more favourable terms than before, of the city of Canterbury and of
the abbey of Saint Alban’s.[1179] These possessions were at least not
granted by the writ which announces the grant of the archbishopric. Of
one of them the local patriotism of Saint Alban’s naturally knew
nothing, though we hear of the friendship which Anselm showed to the
house and to its abbot Paul. This friendship could hardly have been
shown in the character of archbishop, as Paul died during the year of
Anselm’s appointment.[1180] And it is not wonderful that Anselm’s
friendship for the abbey did not avail to save it from the usual fate.
For four years after the death of Paul, the church of Saint Alban
remained without an abbot, while the King held the lands of the abbey,
cut down its woods, and found many ingenious excuses, such as Flambard
knew how to devise, for wringing money out of its tenants.[1181]
[Sidenote: The question as to the Pope left unsettled.]
[Sidenote: No reference to the Pope in English episcopal
appointments.]
It would seem that, of the three points which had been insisted on by
Anselm at Rochester, two were left out of sight in the public assembly
at Winchester no less than in the private conference at Windsor. The
question about the grants of the archiepiscopal lands was settled, at
least in name and for the time, in favour of Anselm; but nothing was
said either about William’s obligation to take Anselm as his spiritual
guide or about the acknowledgement of Urban as Pope. The former of
these two was in truth a matter for the King’s private conscience; it
was hardly a matter to be discussed and legislated about in an
assembly of the kingdom. And even the matter of the Pope did not touch
Anselm’s conscience in exactly the same way as the question of the
grants. If Anselm had allowed the grants, it would have been, in his
view, an alienation of the rights of his see, and therefore a personal
crime. But he might, without in any way giving up his position,
receive the investiture without saying anything about the papal
question at all. It was not yet held that the Bishop of Rome was
entitled to any voice as to the election, investiture, or
consecration, of any English bishop. In the case of a diocesan bishop,
there was no need for any reference to the Pope at any stage; in the
case of a metropolitan, the pallium had to be asked for; but it was
not asked for till after consecration. Anselm had given fair warning
to the King that he meant to acknowledge Urban. But at no stage of the
business which had yet been reached was there any need for any formal
acknowledgement of any Pope. Anselm might therefore fairly hold that
his first warning was enough, and that he was not called upon to raise
the question again, till the time came when it would be his duty to
seek for the pallium from one Pope or the other. When that time came,
he would be ready to do or suffer as the circumstances of that yet
future day might dictate.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Order of episcopal appointments.]
[Sidenote: Opposite present practice.]
[Sidenote: Theories of the two systems.]
[Sidenote: Present process.]
Before the time for any dealings with Rome should come, there were
still two more ceremonies to be done in England. The process of making
a bishop was, then as now, a long one; but the order of the several
stages was different then from what it now is. Anselm had done homage
and had received restitution of the temporalities; but he was not yet
enthroned, still less consecrated. The order then was, homage,
enthronement, consecration. The present order is the exact opposite.
The bishop-elect is consecrated; then he takes corporal possession of
the see by enthronement; last of all, he does homage to the King and
receives restitution of the temporalities. In the elder state of
things the spiritual office was bestowed on one who was already full
bishop for all temporal purposes. By the later rule the temporal
rights are bestowed on one who is already full bishop for all
spiritual purposes. The difference in order seems to arise from the
different theory of the episcopate which has prevailed since the
restoration of ecclesiastical elections was fully established by the
Great Charter. In the irregular practice of the eleventh century, the
notion of investiture of a benefice by the king had come to the front.
The king had in his hands a great fief, which he granted to whom he
would; that fief was chargeable with certain spiritual duties. It was
therefore for the Church, by her spiritual rite of consecration, to
make the king’s nominee, already invested with his temporal rights,
capable of discharging his spiritual duties. Such was clearly the
established view of the days of Rufus, and the order of the process is
in harmony with it. The office is treated as an appendage to the
benefice. In the theory which is both earlier and later the benefice
is treated as an appendage to the office. The order of the process is
therefore reversed. The spiritual office is first filled by the three
ecclesiastical processes of election, confirmation, consecration――the
last of course being needless when the person chosen is already a
bishop. The bishop then takes personal possession of his church by
installation or enthronement. The spiritual functions over, the
bishop, now in full possession of his office, lastly receives the
attached benefice by homage to the king and restitution of the
temporalities at his hands. That elections were hardly ever really
free at any time, that the royal leave was needed for the election,
that kings recommended, that popes “provided,” that the later law
requires the electors to choose only the king’s nominee and requires
the metropolitan to confirm the person so chosen, makes no difference
to the theory. The royal power is kept in the background; it is the
ecclesiastical power which formally acts. The king’s hand pulls the
wires of the ecclesiastical puppets; but the ecclesiastical puppets
play their formal part. The whole is done according to a theory which
naturally places the formal act of the temporal power last. In the
days of Rufus the whole was done according to another theory which, as
naturally, placed the formal act of the temporal power first of all.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Enthronement of Anselm. September 25, 1093.]
[Sidenote: Flambard brings a suit against Anselm on the day of
enthronement.]
The next stage then was for Anselm, still only a presbyter, but
already invested with all the temporal powers and possessions of the
archbishopric, to take personal possession of his see in the
metropolitan church. It was the only time that such a rite was
performed in the short eastern limb of the new church of Lanfranc.
Anselm’s own later days were to see the removal of the patriarchal
throne of Britain to be the centre of the more stately apse of Conrad,
as later days saw it again removed to be the centre of the yet more
stately apse of the two Williams. On that throne, Anselm, chosen to be
Pope of the island Empire, was placed on one of the later days of
September in the presence of a rejoicing crowd of monks, clergy, and
lay folk. Well might they rejoice; the Church had again a shepherd;
the nation had again a defender. But even that day of joy did not pass
without signs that the favour of the temporal lord of the island
Empire was already turned away from its new pontiff. The King’s sense
of personal honour required him to carry out the promise made at
Gloucester, to allow, even to compel, Anselm to become archbishop. But
he had no sense of Christian or kingly duty to keep him from insulting
and harassing the man whom he had promoted, or to constrain him to
keep the promises contained in his own proclamation. Those things had
not been done in the character of _probus miles_, of knight and
gentleman. It was quite consistent with chivalrous honour to send
Flambard to disturb the joyful day of enthronement by the announcement
of a hostile suit against the new archbishop. We are not told what was
its exact nature, only that it was something which, in the eyes of
strict churchmen at least, wholly concerned the affairs of the Church,
and with which the King’s court had nothing to do.[1182] In the older
days of England such a distinction could hardly have been drawn; after
the separation of the jurisdictions under the Conqueror, it may have
been fair enough. Whatever the actual matter in dispute was, we can
understand the general indignation at the choice of such a moment for
the serving of the notice, at the malice which would not let even the
first day of the Primate’s new dignity pass unmolested. We can also
easily picture to ourselves the fierce swagger of Flambard,
graphically as it is set before us.[1183] And we can listen also to
the mild grief of Anselm, inferring from such treatment on the first
day of his primacy what the troubles of his future life were likely to
be.[1184]
[Sidenote: Other events of the year.]
[Sidenote: Consecration of Anselm at Canterbury. December 4, 1093.]
[Sidenote: Thomas of York.]
[Sidenote: Other bishops present.]
[Sidenote: Absence of Herbert,]
[Sidenote: Wulfstan,]
[Sidenote: and Osbern.]
After the enthronement more than two months still passed before the
final rite of consecration admitted Anselm to the fulness of his
spiritual office. They were months of no small moment in the history
of Britain. They beheld the last invasion of Malcolm, his death,[1185]
the death of his saintly wife, the uprising of Scottish nationality
against the foreign innovations or reforms which Malcolm and Margaret
represented in the eyes of their native subjects. The affairs of
Scotland, of Wales, of Normandy, were all on the Red King’s mind at
the same moment, as well as the affairs of Anselm. But it is these
last that we have to follow for the present. Early in December, on the
second Sunday in Advent, the more part of the bishops of England came
together at Canterbury for the consecration of the new metropolitan.
At their head was the Archbishop of York, Thomas of Bayeux. It was the
privilege of his see――so the loyal historian of the church of York
takes care that we should know――when Canterbury was without an
archbishop, to consecrate bishops and to put the crown on the king’s
head within the vacant province.[1186] Whether the one available
suffragan of the northern province came along with Thomas, in the form
of William of Durham, we are not distinctly told. But of the bishops
of the province of Canterbury eight must have been there. Robert Bloet
was the elect of Lincoln; but he, like Anselm, was himself awaiting
consecration. Of the rest three were absent, and among those three
were the only two who were English either by birth or by adoption, the
two whom we could have most wished to have a share in the work.
Herbert of Thetford must now have been on his penitential journey to
Rome or on his way back.[1187] The holy Wulfstan, the one Englishman
by descent as well as by birth who was left among the bishops of
England, the only one who had been a bishop in the old days of King
Eadward, was still in the land, but was kept away by age or sickness.
So was Osbern of Exeter, the only one of the foreign stock who had
thoroughly made himself an Englishman by adoption. These two sent
letters of consent instead of their personal presence.[1188] The
others gathered round the high altar of Lanfranc’s rearing at Christ
Church. Most of them are men with whose names we are familiar; Maurice
of London, Walkelin of Winchester, Gundulf of Rochester, Osmund of
Salisbury, Robert of Hereford, John who had moved from Wells to Bath,
Robert of Lichfield or of Chester, who had moved in a fiercer sort to
Earl Leofric’s Coventry. All of them, whatever they were in other
ways, were mighty builders. If William of Durham, whose church had
just begun to rise on the height above the Wear,[1189] was really in
their company, there was indeed the master-builder of all, whose heart
might already swell to think how the work which he had begun would
surpass the work of Lanfranc under whose roof they were met. These
eight came together in the new metropolitan church to perform the rite
which should make Anselm at once their brother and their father.
[Sidenote: Position of Thomas.]
[Sidenote: Thomas objects to the description of Anselm as
“Metropolitan of Britain.”]
[Sidenote: His objection admitted.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s consecration.]
But, before the rite could be gone through, an old question was
stirred again, by no means for the last time. The leader of the
episcopal band was fully minded that the rank to which they were about
to admit the prelate elect should be clearly defined. Thomas of York
had doubtless not forgotten the day when he had himself gone away
unconsecrated from the spot where they were now met, because he could
not bring himself to make such a submission to the higher dignity of
Canterbury as Anselm’s predecessor had required of him.[1190] He now
had his opportunity of raising his voice with greater success on
behalf of the dignity of his own church. Before the consecrating
prelates went on to the examination of the bishop-elect, it was the
business of the Bishop of London to read the formal document declaring
the cause why they had come together.[1191] Bishop Maurice handed over
this duty to the Bishop of Winchester. Walkelin began to read how the
church of Canterbury, the metropolitan church of all Britain, was
widowed of its pastor. The Archbishop of York stopped him;
“Metropolitan church of all Britain? Then the church of York, which
all men know to be a metropolitan church, is not metropolitan. We all
know that the church of Canterbury is the primatial church of all
Britain; metropolitan church of all Britain it is not.”[1192] This was
not a distinction without a difference. To allow the claim of
Canterbury to be the metropolitan church of all Britain would have
been to admit that the church of York was a mere suffragan see of
Canterbury. The other form simply asserted the precedency of
Canterbury as the higher in rank of the two metropolitan sees of
Britain. So Anselm’s correspondent at Lyons was Primate of all the
Gauls, without endangering the metropolitan rank of Rheims and Rouen.
But William the Good Soul would have been stirred to wrath had it been
hinted that Lyons was the metropolitan church of all Gaul, and Rouen
simply its suffragan. A zealot for the rights of Canterbury admits
that the objection of Thomas was a good one.[1193] The wording of the
document was at once changed;[1194] the rite went on, and Anselm was
consecrated as Archbishop of Canterbury and Primate of all Britain. If
the more northern suffragans of York had any objections to make, they
were just then less likely than ever to be at Canterbury to make them.
[Sidenote: Question of acknowledging the Pope.]
[Sidenote: Thomas claims jurisdiction over Lincoln.]
[Sidenote: Robert Bloet’s consecration delayed.]
The position of the newly-consecrated Primate within his own island
was thus settled to the satisfaction of the man who thought that he
had a special interest in the matter. It was perhaps more difficult to
settle his relation to the ecclesiastical powers beyond his own
island. Anselm had warned the King that, if he became archbishop, he
must yield obedience to Urban. But, as the King had not acknowledged
Urban, it would have been deemed unlawful to speak of Urban as Pope in
any public act. The difficulty seems to have been got over by Anselm
making a profession of obedience to the Roman Church, without
mentioning the name of any particular pontiff.[1195] Thus passed the
day of the consecration; but, on the morrow, Thomas of York,
successful thus far, found yet another point to assert on behalf of
the alleged rights of his church. He had, it will be remembered,
striven to hinder Remigius from transferring the see of Dorchester to
a spot which he deemed to be in his own province and diocese.[1196]
Since that time, notwithstanding his remonstrances, the minster of
Lincoln had arisen; but it remained unconsecrated, and its builder was
dead. To the mind of Thomas these facts perhaps seemed to be signs as
clear in their meaning as any which the Bishop of Hereford would find
out from the lore of the stars.[1197] Thus emboldened, on the day
after he had consecrated Anselm to the see of Canterbury, Thomas
warned the new Primate against proceeding, as he had purposed, to
consecrate Robert Bloet to the see of Lincoln. He might consecrate
him, if he would, to the ancient see of Dorchester; but not to Lincoln
or to any other place in that land of Lindesey which belonged to the
jurisdiction of York.[1198] Anselm seems to have yielded; at least the
matter remained unsettled, and the elect of Lincoln remained
unconsecrated for two months longer.
[Sidenote: Christmas Gemót at Gloucester. 1093-1094.]
[Sidenote: Anselm received by the King.]
Anselm now, after so many difficulties, was at last fully Archbishop.
He remained in his metropolis for eight days only after his
consecration. He then set forth for the Christmas Assembly of the
realm, to be held at Gloucester.[1199] The prayer which he had drawn
up at the assembly held there twelve months before had indeed been
answered. The King’s heart had been stirred; the Archbishop had been
appointed. Unhappily also the King’s heart had been stirred back
again. William was again the king who had mockingly bidden his bishops
to pray as they thought good, not the king who had passionately called
on Anselm to step in between him and eternal death. The breach between
King and Primate had begun before Anselm was fully Primate, when
Flambard had insolently summoned him in his own church on the day of
his enthronement. Whatever the matter of the summons was, Anselm was
now ready in the King’s court to answer it. But of that dispute we
hear no more. The Archbishop came to Gloucester, and was courteously
and cheerfully received, not only by the assembled nobles, but by the
King himself.[1200] But the Witan were not to depart from the place of
meeting till new grounds of quarrel had arisen between the two unequal
yokefellows who were at last fully coupled together.
§ 3. _The Assembly at Hastings and the Second Norman Campaign._ 1094.
[Sidenote: Events of the year 1094.]
[Sidenote: Affairs of Normandy; their connexion with Anselm.]
The events of the year on which we have now entered consist partly of
warlike movements in Normandy and Scotland, partly of matters directly
touching ecclesiastical questions, above all touching Anselm. Of
these, the affairs of Scotland and the affairs of Anselm have hardly
any bearing on one another. But the affairs of Normandy and the
affairs of Anselm have a close connexion. They were discussed in the
same assemblies; and one ground of quarrel between King and Primate
arose directly out of the discussion of Norman affairs. Some of the
details of the two stories are so mixed up with one another that it
would be hard to keep them apart. Again, the Scottish warfare of this
year is part of a continuous series of Scottish events spread over
several years. But the Norman warfare is a kind of episode. It is
connected by the laws of cause and effect with things which went
before and with things which came after; but, as a story, it stands by
itself or is mixed up with the story of Anselm. It cannot be dealt
with, like the King’s first Norman war, as a distinct chapter of our
history. It will therefore be better, during the year which follows
the consecration of Anselm, to keep Scottish affairs apart from the
history of the ecclesiastical dispute, but to treat the Norman
campaign as something filling up part of the time between two great
stages in Anselm’s history.
[Sidenote: Robert’s challenge of William. 1093-1094.]
[Sidenote: Form of the message.]
[Sidenote: War decreed.]
The chief business of the assembly which now met at Gloucester was the
reception of a hostile message from the Duke of the Normans. This fact
makes us wish to know more in detail what Count William of Eu had
suggested, and what King William of England had done. It is certain
that King William needed no pressing to make him inclined for another
attempt on his brother’s dominions; but it is clear that the coming of
Count William had led to some special action which had given Duke
Robert special ground of complaint. The Norman embassy came, and
challenged one brother in the name of the other, almost as an earlier
Norman embassy had challenged Harold in the name of the father of both
of them.[1201] The diplomacy of those days was clear and outspoken.
The _bodes_ of Duke Robert seem to have spoken to King William in the
midst of his Witan, much as the bodes of the Athenian commonwealth
spoke, with a greater amount of personal deference, to King Philip on
his throne. They told the King of the English that their master
renounced all peace and treaty with him, unless he would do all that
was set down in the treaty; they declared him forsworn and truthless,
unless he would hold to the treaty, or would go and clear himself at
the place where the treaty had been made and sworn to.[1202] Such a
message as this was hardly wise in Robert, whatever it might have been
in a prince who had the resources of his dominions more thoroughly at
his command. It was in some sort an appeal to arbitration; but it was
put in a shape which was sure to bring on war. William had no doubt
made up his mind for a Norman enterprise in any case; the message of
Robert would really help him by turning a certain amount of public
feeling to his side. An expedition was decreed; Normandy was to be a
second time invaded by the Red King.
[Sidenote: Contributions collected for the war.]
[Sidenote: Anselm unwilling to contribute.]
[Sidenote: He gives five hundred pounds.]
And now came the question how ways and means were to be found for the
new war. That some of the ways and means which were employed were
unworthy of all kingly dignity[1203] is not wonderful in this reign.
But the only one of which we distinctly hear seems in itself less
unworthy than some others, though the particular form which it took is
eminently characteristic of Rufus. The great men who had come together
to the assembly made presents to the King, forerunners of the
benevolences of later times. The great men of Normandy had,
twenty-eight years before, made contributions of ships for the
invasion of England.[1204] Now the great men of England, some of them
the same persons, made contributions of money for the invasion of
Normandy. This was at least less unworthy of the kingly dignity than
some of the tricks by which Flambard wrung money out of more helpless
victims. But the Red King’s way of dealing with such gifts shows the
mixture of greed and pride which stands out in all his doings. If the
sum offered was less than he thought it ought to be, he cast it aside
with scorn; nor would he ever again admit the offerer to his
friendship, unless he made amends by a second offer of such a sum as
the King might think becoming.[1205] To this custom Anselm now
conformed, with the other nobles and prelates; but it was with some
pains that his friends persuaded him to conform to it.[1206] With his
usual fear of being misconstrued, he dreaded that if, so soon after
his consecration, he gave the King any sum which the King would think
worth taking, it might have the air of a simoniacal bargain.[1207] He
might also hold that the goods of the Church ought not to be applied
to worldly, least of all to warlike, uses; he might even feel some
scruple in helping towards a war against a prince who had so lately
been his own worldly lord. But he was won over by the argument that a
gift in season might win the King’s favour for ever, and that he might
be allowed to give his mind with less disturbance to the spiritual
duties of his office.[1208] He brought himself therefore to offer the
King five hundred pounds of silver. William was satisfied with the
amount, and received the gift with courteous thanks.[1209]
[Sidenote: William persuaded to refuse the money.]
[Sidenote: Anselm prays Rufus to take the money.]
[Sidenote: Rufus refuses it.]
What followed showed that William Rufus had counsellors about him who
were worse than himself, or who at any rate were not ashamed to play
upon the worst parts of his character to obtain their own ends. In
this case they are nameless. Are we to fill up the blank with the
names of the Bishop of Durham and the Count of Meulan? Or is it safer
to lay any evil deed the doer of which is not recorded on the broad
back of Randolf Flambard? At any rate, some malignant persons, whoever
they were, came about the King, and persuaded him that the gift of the
Archbishop was a contemptible sum which he ought to reject. One whom
he had exalted and enriched above the other great men of England
ought, in such need as that in which the King found himself, to have
given him two thousand pounds, or one thousand at the very least. To
offer so little as five hundred was mere mockery. Let the King wait a
little, let him change his face towards the Archbishop, and Anselm
would presently come, delighted to win back the King’s favour with the
gift of five hundred pounds more.[1210] Thus the Primate’s enemies,
whoever they were, sought to frighten him, and to get more money out
of him for the King’s use. But their schemes were disappointed.[1211]
Anselm was presently surprised by a message to say that the King
refused his gift――the gift which he had already cheerfully
accepted.[1212] He then sought an audience, and asked the King whether
such a message was really of his sending. Some tyrants might have seen
in this question an escape from a difficulty. It would have been easy
for Rufus to have denied his own act; but his pride was up, and direct
lying was never in his vein. He avowed his message. Then Anselm prayed
him not to refuse his gift; it was the first that he had offered; it
should not be the last. It would be better for the King to receive a
smaller sum from him as a friend, than to wring a larger sum from him
as a slave.[1213] Of the alternative of increasing the amount of the
gift he said not a word. One motive was that he could not raise a
greater sum without doing wrong to his tenants――the wrong which he had
declared Ælfheah to be a true martyr for refusing to do.[1214] The
King was now in the mood for short and wrathful speeches. “Keep your
money and your jaw to yourself; I have enough of my own. Get you
gone.”[1215] Anselm obeyed, remembering that at his enthronement the
Gospel had been read which said that no man could serve two masters.
He rejoiced that no one now could deem that he had been guilty of any
corrupt bargain with the King. Yet he tried once more through
messengers to persuade the King to take his gift, but, as he steadily
refused to double it, it was still thrust aside with scorn. The
assembly broke up; the Archbishop, still in the King’s disfavour, went
away, and the money which the King had despised was given to the poor.
[Sidenote: Dispute with the Bishop of London.]
[Sidenote: Judgement of Wulfstan.]
This business over, Anselm had now a few weeks, but a few weeks only,
to give to his immediate pastoral work. Even those weeks were
disturbed by a dispute with one of his suffragans. The point at issue
was the right of the Archbishop to consecrate churches and do other
episcopal acts in such of his manors as were locally in other
dioceses. This right was denied by Bishop Maurice of London, who sent
two of his canons to forbid the Archbishop to consecrate the newly
built church of Harrow.[1216] The matter was settled by an appeal to
one who knew the ancient laws of England better than either Maurice or
Anselm. Wulfstan of Worcester, now “one and alone of the ancient
fathers of the English,” wrote back his judgement in favour of the
Primate’s right.[1217] The question was thus decided; Maurice did not
dare to set up his judgement on such a matter against that of the
venerable saint, the relic of a state of things which had passed
away.[1218]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Assembly at Hastings. February 2, 1094.]
[Sidenote: The fleet delayed by the wind.]
Those of the great men of England who had come to the Gemót at
Gloucester from the more distant parts of the kingdom could hardly
have reached their homes when they were again summoned to give the
King the benefit of their counsels. William Rufus was so strong upon
his throne that in his days assemblies were sure to be frequent. He
was moreover planning a campaign beyond the sea, so that it was very
doubtful whether he would be able this year to wear his crown in
England at the usual times of Easter and Pentecost. The Easter Gemót
was therefore in some sort forestalled. As the starting-point for his
second invasion of Normandy the King had chosen the spot which had
been his father’s head-quarters in the great invasion of England. At
Pevensey he had once beaten back the invasion of his Norman brother;
at Hastings he now gathered the force which was for the second time to
avenge that wrong. The chief men of England were again brought
together. We may perhaps see in this assembly a case of the military
Gemót. Anselm and several other bishops were there; but it is said
that their presence was required to give their blessing to the King
and his army before they crossed the sea.[1219] But that final
blessing could not be given till many weeks after the army or assembly
first came together. When the younger William sought to invade
Normandy, he was kept lingering at Hastings, as the elder William had
been kept lingering at Saint Valery when he sought to invade England.
For six weeks the north wind refused to blow. While thus kept back
from warfare, the King seems to have amused himself with
ecclesiastical business and ecclesiastical ceremonies, and he further
brought on himself the sharpest of ecclesiastical rebukes.[1220]
[Sidenote: The Abbey of Battle.]
[Sidenote: Completion of the building.]
[Sidenote: Consecration of the church. February 11, 1094.]
[Sidenote: Bishops present; Ralph of Coutances.]
[Sidenote: Death of Geoffrey Bishop of Coutances. February 3, 1093.]
[Sidenote: William and Anselm at Battle.]
But one of the ceremonies which filled up the time of enforced leisure
must have been something more than a matter of amusement to William
the Red. Whatever traces of good feeling lingered in his heart
gathered round the memory of his parents. And he was now called on to
join in a rite which was the crowning homage to his father’s name, the
most speaking memorial of his father’s victory and his father’s
bounty. Again was a William encamped at Hastings called on to make his
way to the hill of Senlac. But this time he could make his way thither
in peaceful guise. The place was no longer a wilderness or a camp, no
longer the hill of the hoar apple-tree, no longer bristling with the
thickset lines of battle, no longer heaped with the corpses of the
conquerors and the conquered. The height which had once been fenced in
by the palisade of the English host was now fenced in by the precinct
wall of a vast monastery; its buildings, overhanging the hill side,
covered the spot where Gyrth had fallen by the hand of William;[1221]
its church, fresh from the hands of the craftsman, covered the ground
which had beheld the last act of the day of slaughter; its high altar,
blazing doubtless with all the skill of Otto and Theodoric,[1222]
marked the spot where Harold, struck by the bolt from heaven, had
fallen between the Dragon and the Standard. After so many years had
passed since the Conqueror had bidden that the memorial of the
Conquest should rise on that spot and on no other, the minster of
Saint Martin of the Place of Battle stood ready for consecration.
Moved by the prayer of Abbot Gausbert, prompted too by his own
reverence for the memory and the bidding of his father, William the
younger bade that his father’s church should at once be hallowed in
his own presence.[1223] On a Saturday then in the month of February,
in the twenty-eighth year since the awful Saturday of Saint Calixtus,
the two who were so unequally yoked together to draw the plough of the
Church of England made their way to the place of Battle. A crowd of
nobles and commons came together to the sight; and with them, besides
the Primate, were seven bishops of three different provinces. There
was Ralph of Chichester, bishop of the diocese, whose jurisdiction
within the favoured abbey was so zealously denied by every monk of
Battle.[1224] There were Walkelin of Winchester, Osmund of Salisbury,
John of Bath, and Gundulf of Rochester. There was the Primate’s great
northern enemy, William of Durham. And there too was a suffragan of
Rouen, the immediate successor of one of the fierce prelates who had
blessed the Conqueror’s host on the morning of the great battle.[1225]
Geoffrey of Mowbray, Bishop and once Earl, had died a year before, and
the episcopal chair of Coutances was now filled by his successor
Ralph.[1226] How, it may be asked, came a Norman bishop in the court,
almost in the army, of a king who was about to invade Normandy? The
answer is easy. The Côtentin was now again in the hands of
Henry,[1227] and the presence of its bishop at the court of William
was a sign of the good understanding which now reigned between the two
younger sons of the Conqueror. But on such a day as this all interest
gathers round the two main figures in the assembly, the two of highest
rank in their several orders. William the Red, strange assistant in
any religious rite, seems less out of place than usual as assistant in
the rite which was to dedicate the work of his father. And if prayers
and offerings were to go up on that spot for those who had fallen
there on the defeated as well as on the victorious side, there was no
mouth in which we should more gladly put them than in the mouth of him
who was the chief celebrant on that day. Anselm, standing at the head
of his foreign suffragans――English Wulfstan stood not by him――before
the altar of Saint Martin of the Place of Battle, seemed like a
representative of universal Christendom, of universal peace and love.
The holy man from Aosta sang his mass in honour of the holy man of
Tours. And he sang it on the spot where Harold of England had stood by
his standard in the morning, where William of Normandy had held the
feast of victory in the evening, the morning and evening of the most
memorable day in the history of our island since England became one
kingdom.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: The King at Hastings.]
[Sidenote: William of Saint-Calais.]
[Sidenote: Consecration of Robert Bloet to Lincoln. February 12,
1094.]
[Sidenote: Robert’s gift to the King.]
[Sidenote: Plot against Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Compromise with York.]
[Sidenote: Character of Robert Bloet.]
[Sidenote: His offices.]
[Sidenote: His death. 1123.]
[Sidenote: Local legends about him.]
From the hill of Battle William went back to the hill of Hastings, now
crowned by the castle into which the hasty fortress of his father had
grown.[1228] Six years earlier the Bishop of Durham, charged with
treason, had in answer, pleaded that he had kept Hastings and its
castle in the King’s obedience.[1229] Notwithstanding that answer, he
had been banished; he had been recalled, and he now stood, with all
his former authority, chief counsellor of the King, chief enemy of the
Archbishop. On the morrow of the dedication of Saint Martin’s, William
of Saint-Calais joined with Anselm in the long-delayed consecration of
the elect of Lincoln. The rite was done in the church of Our Lady
within the castle of Hastings, by the hands of the same prelates who
had the day before dedicated the church of Battle. It was to the see
of Lincoln, not to the see of Dorchester, that Robert Bloet was
consecrated. Thomas of Bayeux was not there to repeat his protest. He
would have been there in vain. The bishop-elect had, in the course of
his chancellorship, got together the means of settling such questions.
His bishopric, granted at the time of the King’s repentance, had cost
him nothing. It was now a matter of regret with Rufus that it had cost
him nothing; Robert had therefore to pay all the more for the
establishment of the rights of his see. One who had the means of
knowing says that he gave the King the great sum of five thousand
pounds to decide the cause in favour of Lincoln.[1230] This was done,
the York writer complains, without the consent of the Archbishop of
York and without the knowledge of his chapter.[1231] The case must
have been settled either at Gloucester or now at Hastings. It was most
likely at Hastings, as we can hardly fancy Thomas keeping away from
the great Christmas gathering. Our Canterbury guide tells us a not
very intelligible story which may show us how the claim of Thomas was
spoken of in the southern metropolis. The cause of York had found at
least professing friends among the great men at Hastings, though it
met with no favour from the King himself. Not knowing perhaps with
what weighty arguments the elect of Lincoln had proved his case,
certain unnamed bishops and lords deemed that they would please the
King by anything which could annoy or discredit Anselm. They therefore
insidiously tried to persuade the Archbishop to consecrate Robert
without his making due profession to the church of Canterbury.[1232]
Anselm stood firm. The King, when he heard of the plot, took to his
magnanimous vein. His personal quarrel with Anselm should never lead
him to do anything against the dignity of the Church of Canterbury his
mother.[1233] The King and Flambard perhaps enjoyed the joke together.
But Robert Bloet made the needful profession, and was consecrated as
Bishop of Lincoln by Anselm and the assembled prelates. The
controversy with York was at last formally settled, by a compromise
which was announced in a royal charter. By this the Archbishop of York
accepted the patronage of the new abbey of Selby in his own diocese,
and that of the church of Saint Oswald at Worcester――the city and
diocese so long connected with York――in exchange for his claims over
Lindesey.[1234] The isle and city of Lindum has ever since remained an
undisputed member of the southern province. The new Bishop of Lincoln,
the first prelate consecrated to that see, has left a doubtful
character behind him. He held his bishopric for thirty years, living
on far into the reign of Henry, and keeping the royal favour till just
before his death. Chancellor under both Williams, he, as usual,
resigned that post on his consecration; but under Henry he ruled with
great power in the higher office of Justiciar.[1235] Bountiful in his
gifts to his see and to his church, the number of whose prebends he
doubled, splendid and liberal in his manner of life, bountiful to the
poor, winning the hearts of all around him, not himself a scholar, but
a promoter of scholars, skilful in worldly business of every kind, he
does not show us the best, but neither does he show us the worst type
of the prelates of his day. He was charged with looseness of life; but
his chief accuser found it wise to strike out the charge, and his son
Simon, Dean of his own church, was born while he was Chancellor to the
Conqueror, quite possibly in lawful wedlock. His last days form a
striking incident in the next reign; here he chiefly concerns us as
being in some sort, however strangely, bracketted with Anselm, as the
other bishop whom the Red King named during his short time of
repentance.[1236] Anyhow it was hard on him to tell in after days how
his ghost hindered anybody from praying or giving alms near his tomb
in the minster, and that only because he removed the monks of Stow to
Eynsham, because he subjected his see to the gift of a precious mantle
to the King, or because he agreed to the wise measure which lessened
the extent of his vast diocese.
[Sidenote: Return of Herbert of Thetford.]
[Sidenote: He is deprived by the King.]
Another bishop appeared at this gathering, whose coming was, for the
time, less lucky for himself than that of Robert Bloet. Herbert of
Thetford, struck with penitence for his simoniacal bargain, had, as it
will be remembered, gone beyond sea on an errand which of all others
was most offensive to the King. He had gone to receive again from the
Pope――doubtless from Urban――the bishopric which he had already bought
of the King.[1237] For this offence William now took away his staff;
that is, he deprived him of his bishopric. With whose advice or
consent this was done, and what line Anselm took with regard to such a
step, we are not told. At all events the King now deprived a bishop of
his office on the ground of what he deemed to be treason done without
the realm. This was the converse of the act by which, forty-two years
before, the nation had deprived another bishop on the ground of what
they deemed to be treason within the realm.[1238] William however did
not set up any doubtful Stigand of his own in the church of Thetford.
About a year later Herbert was again in possession of his see.[1239]
How he was restored to the King’s favour we are not told. He may have
deemed it no sin to win it by means which he had learned to look upon
as sin when applied to the obtaining of a spiritual office. Next year
he removed the seat of the East-Anglian bishopric once more. Herfast
had moved it from Elmham to Thetford. With the good will and help of
Roger Bigod Herbert now translated it to its final seat at Norwich. He
there began the foundation of that vast church and monastery, the
creation of which caused his name to be ever since held in at least
local honour.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Lent, 1094.]
[Sidenote: Anselm rebukes the minions.]
Meanwhile the north wind still refused to blow, and the King with his
prelates, lords, and courtiers, still tarried at Hastings. Lent began
before the fleet had a chance of sailing. The penitential season began
with the usual ceremonies. The Archbishop said his mass and preached
his sermon in the ears of the multitude who came together on the day
of ashes, to receive, according to custom, the ashes of penitence from
the hands of the Primate. Among them came the minions and young
gallants of the court of Rufus, with their long combed and twined
hair, their mincing gait, defying alike the commands of the Apostle
and the dictates of common decency and manliness. The voice of Anselm
rebuked them, as well he might, when the outward garb was but the sign
of the deeper foulness within. Not a few were moved to repentance;
they submitted to the loss of their flowing locks, and put on again
the form of men.[1240] Others were stubborn; they received neither
ashes nor absolution. In this battle with a foolish custom which was
in truth far more than a foolish custom, Anselm had not a few
forerunners or followers. Saint Wulfstan, Gundulf, Serlo of Seez, all
preached and acted vigorously against the long hair which was the
symbol of the crying vice of the time.[1241] Anselm deemed that the
evil called for something more than a single act of discipline. The
man of God felt called on to strike at the root of the mischief; he
was moved to make a warning appeal to the conscience, if any
conscience was left, of the chief sinner of them all, and he made it,
after his wont, at once gently and vigorously.
[Sidenote: Anselm’s interview with the King.]
[Sidenote: His silence about the war.]
[Sidenote: He asks for help in his reforms.]
We may guess that the King had not been present at the ceremonies of
Ash-Wednesday; had he been there, his presence would surely have been
dwelled upon. It seems that Anselm, though openly out of the King’s
favour, still visited him from time to time. One day therefore he went
and sat down beside him, and spoke what was in his heart.[1242] The
King was setting forth to conquer Normandy. It is to be noticed that
Anselm does not say a word as to the right or wrong of the war.
Perhaps, after the challenge of Robert, the cause of Rufus may have
seemed, even to him, to be technically just. Perhaps he knew that
anything that could be said on that subject would be fruitless. He may
even have deemed, a view which had much to be said for it, that a
conquest of Normandy by the Red King would be a good exchange for the
rule of its present sovereign. And we must remember that wars of all
kinds were in those days so constantly going on that they would seem
like a necessary evil, a dark side of the economy of things, but one
which could not be hindered. Even men like Anselm would come to look
with less horror than one might expect on wars which were waged only
by those whose whole business might seem to be warfare. Anyhow Anselm
said nothing directly against the war, even though it was to be waged
against the prince to whom he had lately owed allegiance and against
the land which had been to him a second birth-place. But he asked the
King whether he had any right to look for success in that or any other
enterprise, unless he did something to check the evils which had well
nigh uprooted the religion of Christ in his realm. He called on
William to give him the help of the royal authority in his own schemes
of reform. The King asked what form his help was to take,[1243] and
Anselm then put forth his views at length.
[Sidenote: He asks leave to hold a synod.]
[Sidenote: Advantages of the synod.]
[Sidenote: No synod held under Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s appeal against the fashionable vices.]
First and foremost, the King was to help in the work of reform by
allowing Anselm to hold a synod of the realm. It will be remembered
that, by the laws of the Conqueror, no synod could be held without the
King’s licence, and the acts of the synod were of no force without the
King’s confirmation.[1244] But under the Conqueror Lanfranc had, on
the conditions thus laid down, held his synods without hindrance. That
is to say, the elder William, in all causes and over all persons
within his dominions supreme, used that supremacy as the chief ruler
of the Church from within, while the younger William turned that same
supremacy into a weapon wherewith to assault the Church as an enemy
from without. It is plain from the earnestness of Anselm one way――one
might almost say, from the earnestness of Rufus the other way――that
the synod was a real instrument for the reformation of manners. It is
plain that the assembled bishops, when they came together in a body,
could do more both for ecclesiastical discipline and for moral
improvement than they could do, each one in his own diocese. One cause
may have been that, in a synod, the assembled prelates might seem to
be really speaking as fathers in God, while the exercise of their
local jurisdiction was too much mixed up with the petty and not always
creditable details of their courts, with those tricks and extortions
of archdeacons and other officials of which we have often heard.
Anyhow, as the Roman Senate had good enough left in it to call forth
the hatred of Nero, so an ecclesiastical synod had good enough left in
it to call forth the hatred of William Rufus. Not one synod had he
allowed to be held during the whole time of his reign, now in its
seventh year.[1245] Anselm earnestly prayed to be allowed to hold one
for the restoration of discipline and the reformation of manners. The
King answered; “I will see to this matter when I think good; I will
act, not after your pleasure but after my own. And, pray,” added he
mockingly, “when you have got your synod, what will you talk about in
it?” The man of God did not shrink from going straight to the crying
evil of the time. What weighed most on Anselm’s mind was not any mere
breach of ecclesiastical rule――such breaches he had to speak of, but
he would not speak of them first;[1246] the burthen on his soul was
the hideous moral corruption, a new thing on English ground, which had
become rife throughout the land. Unless King and Primate, each in his
own sphere, each with his own weapons, worked together to root out
this plague, the kingdom of England might share the fate of the cities
which it had come to resemble. A strict law was needed, the very
hearing of which would make the guilty tremble.[1247] The words of
Anselm were general; there was no personal charge against William; the
Archbishop simply appealed to him as King to stop the sins of others.
But all this makes us feel more strongly the wonderful character of
such a scene, where two such men could be sitting side by side and
exchanging their thoughts freely. But the heart of Rufus was hardened;
he answered only by a sneer. “And what may come of this matter for
you?” “For me nothing,” said Anselm; “for you and for God I hope
much.”[1248]
[Sidenote: Ecclesiastical grievances.]
[Sidenote: Wrongs of the church tenants.]
[Sidenote: He prays the King to fill the vacant abbeys.]
[Sidenote: The abbeys in what sense the King’s.]
[Sidenote: Hostile answer of Rufus.]
There is so much of simple moral grandeur in this appeal of the
righteous man against moral evil that we might almost have wished that
Anselm’s discourse had ended at this point, and that he had not gone
on to speak of matters which to us seem to have less of a moral and
more of a technical nature. Yet Anselm would doubtless have thought
himself faithless to his duty, if he had left the King’s presence
without making a special appeal about the special grievances of
ecclesiastical bodies. Moreover the wrongs of the bishoprics and
abbeys were distinctly moral wrongs; the King’s doings involved breach
of law, breach of trust; they were grievances on which the head of the
ecclesiastical order was, as such, specially bound to enlarge. But
they were also grievances which did not touch the ecclesiastical order
only; the wrongs done to the tenants of the vacant churches are
constantly dwelled on as one of the worst features of the system
brought in by Rufus and Flambard. Anselm therefore deemed it his duty,
before he parted from the King, to say a word on this matter also, a
matter in which there could be no doubt that the King himself was the
chief sinner. No bishopric was now vacant; but several abbeys, Saint
Alban’s among them, were in the hands of Flambard. Such a state of
things called for his own care as Primate; he appealed to William to
give him his help as King. In the monasteries which were left without
rulers discipline became lax; the monks fell into evil courses; they
died without confession. He prayed the King to allow the appointment
of abbots to the vacant churches, lest he should draw on himself the
judgement which must follow on the evils to which their vacancies gave
cause.[1249] The King seems to have been less able to endure this
rebuke than the other. The disorders of his courtiers and of his own
private life he could not defend on any showing; but the demand that
the abbeys should be filled touched what he looked on as one of his
royal rights. Rufus burst forth in wrath. “Are not the abbeys mine?
Tush, you do as you choose with your manors; shall not I do as I
choose with my abbeys?”[1250] The answer of Anselm drew a distinction
which was a very practical one in those days, and which affects our
legal language still. To this day the King, the Bishop, the Chapter,
all speak of any episcopal see as “our cathedral church,” and all
speak, from their several points of view, with equal truth. Such a
church is the king’s church by virtue of the fundatorial rights which
he claims, in some cases by real historic succession, in all cases by
a legal theory. By virtue of those fundatorial rights, he claims to be
informed of every vacancy, and to give his consent to a new election.
In this sense Anselm did not deny that the abbeys were the King’s
abbeys; he did deny that they were the King’s in the further sense in
which Rufus claimed them. “The abbeys are yours,” he said, “to defend
and guard as an advocate; they are not yours to spoil and lay waste.
They are God’s; they are given that his servants may live of them, not
that you may make campaigns and battles at their cost.[1251] You have
manors and revenues of many kinds, out of which you may carry on all
that belongs to you. Leave, may it please you, the churches to have
their own.” “Truly,” says the King, “you know that what you say is
most unpleasing to me. Your predecessor would never have dared to
speak so to my father. I will do nothing on your account.” When Anselm
then saw that he was casting his words to the winds,[1252] he rose and
went his way.
[Sidenote: Lanfranc and Anselm.]
[Sidenote: No need to rebuke the Conqueror on these points.]
[Sidenote: Estimate of Anselm’s conduct.]
[Sidenote: The Archbishop’s claim to the regency.]
It may be that William Rufus spoke truly, and that Lanfranc would not,
in any case, have dared to speak to the Conqueror as Anselm dared to
speak to him. Lanfranc, with much that was great and good in him, was
not a prophet of righteousness like Anselm. But it is far more certain
that Lanfranc was never put to the test. The Conqueror never gave him
any need to speak to him as Anselm had now need to speak to his son.
What we blame in William the Great, what men like Wimund of Saint
Leutfred dared to blame in him, Lanfranc could not blame. The position
of Lanfranc in England involved the position of William. And, once
granting that position, there was comparatively little to blame in the
elder William. The beheading of Waltheof, the making of the New
Forest, stand almost alone; and the beheading of Waltheof was at least
no private murder; it was the judgement of what was in form a
competent court. The harshness and greediness with which the Conqueror
is justly charged was, after all, a small matter compared with the
utter unlaw of his son’s reign. And on the two subjects of Anselm’s
present discourse, the elder William needed no rebuke at any time. His
private life was at all times absolutely blameless, and, neither as
Duke nor as King, did he ever turn his ecclesiastical supremacy into a
source of gain. On both those points Lanfranc had as good a right to
speak as Anselm; but on those points he was never called on to speak
to his own master. Whether, in Anselm’s place, he would have dared to
speak as Anselm did, we cannot tell. But surely the holy boldness of
Anselm cannot be looked on as in any way blameworthy, as either
insolent or untimed. To him at least the time doubtless seemed most
fitting. He called on the King, before he exposed himself to the
dangers of a campaign beyond the sea, to do something to win God’s
favour by correcting the two grossest of the evils which were rife in
his kingdom. The Assembly was clearly not dissolved when Anselm spoke;
William could at once have filled the abbeys, he could at once have
put forth a law against the other class of offenders, in the most
regular form, by the advice of his Wise Men. Anselm might even have
held his synod while the wind was waiting. The synod in Lanfranc’s day
followed on the Gemót, and it took up only three days.[1253] Most of
the bishops were present at Hastings; those who were absent had
doubtless been summoned and, by the rule of the Great Charter and of
common sense, they would be bound by the acts of those who obeyed the
summons. Moreover, according to the precedents of the late reign,
Anselm would be the sole or chief representative of the King during
his absence. He might fairly ask to be clothed with every power,
temporal and spiritual, which was needed for the fit discharge of
kingly as well as pastoral duties.
[Sidenote: Anselm attempts to recover the King’s favour.]
[Sidenote: Advice of the bishops to give more money.]
Anselm was deeply grieved at the ill success of his personal appeal to
the King. He was now wholly out of the King’s favour, and he felt
that, without some measure of support from the King, he could not
carry out the reforms, ecclesiastical and moral, for which he
longed.[1254] He was ready to do anything that could be done with a
good conscience in order to win back the King’s good will. He sent the
bishops to William, to crave that he might, of the King’s free grace,
be again admitted to his friendship. If the King would not grant him
his favour, let him at least say why he would not grant it; if Anselm
had wronged him in any way, he was ready to make the wrong good.[1255]
The bishops laid the prayer of their metropolitan before the King. The
answer was characteristic. “I have no fault to find with the
Archbishop; yet I will not grant him my favour, because I hear no
reason given why I should.”[1256] What those words meant in the mouth
of Rufus the bishops knew very well. They went back to tell the
Primate that the mystery was clear.[1257] The King’s favour was to be
won only by money, and by money in no small store. Their counsel was
that Anselm should at once give the King the five hundred pounds which
he had before offered, and that he should promise him another gift of
the same amount as soon as he could get it out of his men.[1258] On
those terms they fully believed that the King would grant him his
peace and friendship. They saw no other way for him; they were in the
same strait themselves, and knew no other way out of it.[1259]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s grounds for refusing.]
[Sidenote: He will not oppress his tenants.]
[Sidenote: His answer to the bishops.]
[Sidenote: The King more hostile than ever.]
In the counsel thus given to Anselm by his suffragans we hear the
words, not of utterly worldly and unscrupulous men, but of the
ordinary prelates of the time, good men, many of them, in all that
concerned their own personal lives and the ordinary administration of
their churches, but not men disposed to risk or dare much, men
disposed to go on as they best might in very bad times, without doing
anything which might make things still worse. In the eyes of Anselm,
on the other hand, things hardly could be made worse; if they could,
it would be by consenting to them. By an unflinching assertion of
principle things might be made better; in the worst case the assertor
of principle would have delivered his own soul. In Anselm’s eyes the
course which his suffragans suggested was sinful on every ground;
moreover――an argument which some of them might better understand――it
was utterly inexpedient. He refused to make his way out of his
difficulties by the path which they proposed. The King allowed that he
had no ground of complaint; he was simply angry because he could not
get five hundred pounds out of him as the price of his favour. If now,
while his appointment was still fresh, he should win the King’s favour
at such a price, the King would get angry with him at any other time
that might suit him, in order to have his wrath bought off in the same
way. This last argument seems to show that Anselm was after all not so
lacking in worldly wisdom as some have thought. But his main argument
was that he would not commit the crime of wringing any more money out
of his tenants. They had been frightfully oppressed and robbed during
the vacancy; he had not as yet been able to do anything to relieve
them; he would not lay fresh burthens upon them; he would not flay
alive those who were already stripped to their skins.[1260] Again, he
would not deal with his lord the King as if his friendship was a thing
to be bought and sold. He owed the King faith and honour, and it would
be doing him dishonour to treat his favour like a horse or an ass to
be paid for in vile money. He utterly refused to put such an insult
upon his sovereign. He told his suffragans that they should rather do
their best to persuade the King to deal of his free grace as it was
fit for him to deal with his archbishop and spiritual father. Then he,
on his part, would strive to do all that he could and might do for his
service and pleasure. This ideal view of the relation of King and
Primate was doubtless above the heads of John of Bath, of Robert of
Lincoln, of Robert of Chester, and of William of Durham in his present
mood. It was surely one of them, rather than Osmund or Robert of
Hereford, who answered; “But at least you will not refuse him the five
hundred pounds which you once offered.” Anselm answered that he could
not give that either; when the King refused it, he had promised it to
the poor, and the more part of it had been given to them already. The
bishops went back to the King on their unpromising errand. William
bade them tell the Archbishop that he hated him much yesterday, that
he hated him much to-day, and that he would hate him more and more
to-morrow and every other day. He would never hold Anselm for father
or archbishop; he cursed and eschewed his blessings and prayers. Let
him go where he would; he need not stay any longer there at Hastings,
if it was to bless him on his setting sail that he was waiting.[1261]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Anselm leaves Hastings.]
[Sidenote: William crosses to Normandy. March 19, 1094.]
[Sidenote: Vain attempts to settle the dispute.]
[Sidenote: Verdict of the guarantors against William.]
The Red King had thus cast aside another offer of grace. Our guide
tells us; “We departed from the court with speed, and left him to his
will.” The pronoun is emphatic. From that time, if not from an earlier
time, English Eadmer was the inseparable companion of Anselm. Anselm
and Eadmer then turned away, at what exact date we are not told. But
the north wind seems not to have blown till more than half the month
of March had passed. Then at last King William of England set sail
from Hastings for the conquest of Normandy. He went without Anselm’s
blessing; yet some of the ceremonies which had been gone through
during his sojourn at Hastings must surely have dwelled in his mind.
Fresh from the rite which in some sort marked the completion of his
father’s work in England, the younger William set out so far to undo
his father’s work as to bring Normandy into political subjection to
England. At what Norman haven he landed we are not told; it was
seemingly in some part of the lands of his earlier conquest, the lands
on the right bank of the Seine. Before swords were drawn, an attempt
was made to settle the dispute between the brothers. King and Duke met
in person; what was their place of meeting we are not told; but no
agreement could be come to.[1262] A second meeting took place, in
which the guarantors of the former treaty were appealed to, much as
Cnut had appealed to the witnesses of the treaty between him and
Eadmund.[1263] The guarantors, the twenty-four barons, twelve on each
side, who had sworn to the treaty, agreed in a verdict which laid the
whole blame upon the King. The words of our account――it is the English
Chronicler who speaks――clearly imply that the guarantors on William’s
side agreed in this verdict no less than those who swore on behalf of
Robert.[1264] And he adds from himself that Rufus would neither allow
that he was in fault nor abide by his former engagement.[1265] This
meeting therefore was yet more fruitless than the former; the brothers
parted in greater anger than ever.[1266] The Duke went back to Rouen;
the King again took up his head-quarters at Eu.[1267]
[Sidenote: Castles held by the King.]
[Sidenote: La Houlme.]
[Sidenote: Argentan.]
[Sidenote: Taking of Bures.]
Again on Norman soil, William began to practise the arts which had
stood him in such stead in his former enterprise on the duchy. He
hired mercenaries; he gave or promised money or lands to such of the
chief men of Normandy as were willing to forsake the allegiance of
Robert; he quartered his knights both in the castles which he had
hitherto held, and in those which he won to himself by these
means.[1268] Some of these last were very far from Eu. It shows how
successful were the arts of Rufus, how wide was the disaffection
against Robert, when we find castles, far away from one another, far
away from the seat of William’s power in eastern Normandy, but hemming
in the lands in the Duke’s obedience on two dangerous frontiers,
garrisoned by the King’s troops. We are reminded of the revival of
Henry’s power in the Côtentin when we read that the castle of La
Houlme, at the junction of the two rivers Douve and Merderet, lying
south-east from Valognes and nearly east from Saint Saviour, was now
held for William.[1269] So was another stronghold in quite another
quarter, not far from the Cenomannian border, the castle of Argentan
on the upper course of the Orne, to the south of the great forest of
Gouffers. Two famous captains held these threatening posts. Argentan
was commanded by Earl Roger’s son, Roger the Poitevin.[1270] La Houlme
was held by William Peverel, the lord of Nottingham and the
Peakland.[1271] But the first military exploit of the campaign was
wrought in a land nearer to Eu. Bures――whether still held or not by
the faithful Helias we are not told――was taken, and the garrison were
made prisoners; some of them were kept in Normandy, others were sent
by Rufus for better safe-keeping in his own kingdom.[1272]
[Sidenote: Robert calls in King Philip.]
[Sidenote: Siege of Argentan.]
[Sidenote: Surrender of Argentan.]
[Sidenote: Ransom of prisoners.]
[Sidenote: Robert takes La Houlme]
Rufus thus pressed the war vigorously against his brother, with the
full purpose of wholly depriving him of the duchy. Robert, in his
distress, again called on his over-lord, and this time with more
effect than before.[1273] The French intervention was at least able to
turn the balance for a while against Rufus. No object was more
important for Robert than the recovery of the two strongholds which
threatened him, one in the dangerous land on the upper Orne, the other
in the no less dangerous Constantine peninsula. A joint expedition of
the new allies was agreed on, and King and Duke appeared side by side
before Argentan. The castle stood on a height of no great elevation
above the river, with the town, as usual, spreading down to its banks.
The existing fragments show that the fortress and its precinct covered
a vast space, but no architectural feature remains as a witness of the
siege of Argentan by Philip and Robert. The town contains several
attractive buildings of later date, ecclesiastical, civil, and
military. There are churches, town-walls with their towers, the later
_château_ within the fortress; but of the stronghold which Roger of
Poitou had to guard against the powers of Rouen and Paris but little
can be traced. There are some massive and irregular pieces of wall,
and part of a polygonal donjon, the latter at least far later than
Roger’s day. But of the size and strength of the castle there can be
no doubt. It is therefore with some little wonder that we read that
the besiegers found its capture so easy a matter as they did,
especially when its defender was one of the house of Montgomery and
Bellême. On the very first day of the siege the castle surrendered
without bloodshed. Roger of Poitou, with seven hundred knights and as
many esquires――a name which we are now beginning to come across――and
his whole garrison were made prisoners and were kept in ward till they
were ransomed.[1274] Here we see the hand of Philip; we see, as in
some other cases which we have come across already, the beginning of
one of the institutions of chivalry. We shall presently see the custom
of the ransom become a marked feature of the wars between France and
England――so we shall soon find ourselves obliged to call them――in the
eleventh century no less than in the fourteenth. But the bulky King of
the French was for the present contented with this one exploit and
with so valuable a stock of captives. Philip went back into France,
and left his Norman vassal to go on with the campaign alone.[1275]
Robert now drew some spirit from success. He marched westward, and
attacked La Houlme. The castle surrendered; the lord of the Peak, with
eight hundred men, became the prize of the Duke’s unusual display of
vigour.[1276]
[Sidenote: Difficulties of Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Further taxation.]
[Sidenote: Levy of English soldiers.]
[Sidenote: Flambard takes away the soldiers’ money.]
The war went on; each side burned the towns and took the men of the
other side.[1277] But the tide had for the moment decidedly turned
against the Red King. The loss of Argentan and La Houlme, with their
commanders and their large garrisons, was a serious military blow. The
payment of their ransoms might be a still more serious financial blow.
And the payment of a ransom, by which he only got back again what he
had had before, would be less satisfactory to the mind of Rufus than
the payment of bribes and wages by which he had a hope of gaining
something fresh. The hoard at Winchester seems at last to have been
running low; but when William Rufus was king and when he had Randolf
Flambard to his minister, there could be no lack of ways and means to
fill it again. Specially heavy were the gelds laid on England both in
this year and in the following.[1278] And money was gained by one
device which surely would have come into the head of no king and no
minister save those by whom it actually was devised. A great levy was
ordered; King William sent over his bidding that twenty thousand
Englishmen should come over to help the King in Normandy.[1279]
Englishmen had by this time got used to service beyond sea. Nothing is
said of any difficulty in getting this great force together. The
troops were gathered at Hastings, ready to set sail. Each man had
brought with him ten shillings, the contribution of his shire for his
maintenance in the King’s service. For the men who answered to Rufus’
bidding were no mercenaries, not even housecarls; they were the _fyrd_
of England, summoned, by a perhaps unjustifiable but not very
wonderful stretch of authority, to serve their king beyond the sea.
But, when they were ready to sail, Flambard came, and by the King’s
orders took away each man’s money, and bade them all go home
again.[1280] One would like to know something of the feelings of the
men who were thus strangely cheated; we should surely have heard if
there had been any open resistance. Anyhow, by this amazing trick, the
Red King had exchanged the arms of twenty thousand Englishmen for a
sum of ten thousand pounds of English money. After all, the money
might be of greater use than the men in a war with Philip of Paris.
[Sidenote: Rufus buys off Philip.]
If William thus reckoned, he was not deceived. He was still at Eu.
Philip was again in arms; his forces joined those of Robert; again
King and Duke marched side by side, this time with the purpose of
besieging the King of the English in his Norman stronghold. The ten
thousand pounds now served William’s turn quite as well as the twenty
thousand men could have served it. The combined French and Norman host
had reached Longueville on the Scie, with streams and forests between
them and Eu.[1281] Longueville was the last stage of their march.
Thither Rufus sent those who knew how to bring his special arguments
to bear on the mind of Philip. The King again went back to France, and
the confederate army was broken up.[1282]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Contemporary notices of the campaign.]
[Sidenote: Difference between England and Normandy.]
[Sidenote: Private wars go on in Normandy.]
There is something very singular in the way in which this second
Norman war of William Rufus is dealt with by those who wrote at or
near the time. Some make no mention of it at all; others speak of it
only casually; our own Chronicler, who gives the fullest account of
all, does not carry it on to any intelligible issue of success or of
failure. In his pages, and in those of some others, the war drops out
of notice, without coming to any real end of any kind.[1283] The monk
of Saint Evroul, so lavish in local Norman details, seems to have had
his head too full of the local strifes among the Norman nobles to tell
us anything of a warfare which in our eyes comes so much nearer to the
likeness of a national struggle. It must always be remembered that the
local wars which tore every district of Normandy in pieces did not
stop in the least because two hostile kings were encamped on Norman
soil. There cannot be a more speaking comment, at once on the
difference between Robert and either of his brothers and on the
essential difference between the ordinary state of Normandy and of
England. With us private war was never lawful; we needed not the
preaching of the Truce of God.[1284] William the Great, when his
authority was fully established, kept England in peace; and in his
later years the peace of Normandy itself, as distinguished from the
border lands, was broken only by the rebellion of his own son. So in
England there still were rebellions alike against Rufus and against
Henry; but, when the rebellion was crushed, the land was at rest. In
Normandy, as soon as the hand of the great ruler was taken away,
things fell back into the state in which they had been during his own
minority. And they remained in that state till William the Red in his
later years again established order in the duchy. One can well
understand that the endless ups and downs in the local struggles which
went on close to every man’s door really drew to themselves far more
of men’s thoughts than the strife of King William, King Philip, and
Duke Robert himself. The two kings were but two more disputants added
to the crowd, and they were disputants who really did much less harm
to the land in general than was done by its own native chiefs. It is
not very wonderful then that we hear so little of this war from the
Norman side. It is not wonderful that, on the English side, when
stirring events began again before long to happen in England, the
Norman war dropped out of sight. And presently events in the world’s
history were to come which made even the warfare of England and France
seem trifles amid the general stir of “the world’s debate.”
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Relations of Rufus and Henry.]
[Sidenote: Saint Cenery taken by Robert of Bellême.]
[Sidenote: Henry and Hugh summoned to Eu.]
[Sidenote: They go to Southampton. October 31, 1094.]
[Sidenote: They keep Christmas in London.]
[Sidenote: The King comes to England. December 28, 1094.]
[Sidenote: William and Henry reconciled.]
[Sidenote: Henry goes to Normandy, c. Feb. 9, 1095.]
[Sidenote: His warfare with Robert.]
[Sidenote: General results of the campaign.]
[Sidenote: Progress of Henry.]
For the last events of Rufus’ second Norman war we have to go wholly
to our one witness in our own tongue. It is plain that the King, even
after his gold had turned Philip back, did not feel at all at ease in
his Norman quarters. He seems to have distrusted two important
personages at the other end of the duchy, his other brother and one of
the mightiest of his own subjects. Henry, Ætheling and again Count,
was safe in his castle of Domfront, among the people who had chosen
him as their protector. At one period of this year, he is described as
at war with both his brothers at once.[1285] We find him taking the
part of the lord of Saint Cenery, Robert son of Geroy,[1286] against
the common enemy, Robert of Bellême. His help however did not hinder
the cherished fortress from falling into the hands of the
tyrant.[1287] We hear of him before the end of the war in a way which
implies at least some suspicious feeling between himself and the King
his brother. Besides Henry, Hugh of Chester――rather Hugh of Avranches
or Hugh of Saint-James――was also in his own continental possessions.
The King summoned both of them to come to him at Eu, and, as the state
of the duchy did not allow them to come across Normandy by land, he
sent ships to bring them.[1288] But Henry and Hugh, from whatever
causes, did not choose to meet the King face to face. Instead of
sailing to Eu or its port, they made for Southampton, where they
landed and seemingly stayed――with what objects we are not told――for
some weeks.[1289] Thence they went to London, and kept Christmas
there. King William was not this year wearing his crown either at
Westminster or at Gloucester. But it is clear that the movements of
his youngest brother had an effect upon his own. For the first three
days of the holy twelve he stayed at Whitsand. On the fourth day, the
feast of the Innocents, the anniversary of the dedication of the West
Minster, he crossed the sea and landed at Dover.[1290] Thence he
seemingly came to London, where Henry was. Whatever quarrels or
suspicions had sprung up between the King and the Ætheling were now
made up. Henry was received into his brother’s fullest confidence. He
stayed in England till Lent began, when he went to spend the
penitential season in Normandy. But it was not to be an idle season;
in the month between Epiphany and Lent, the Red King had made his
preparations for a campaign in which Henry was to take his place. The
Count of Coutances then went again beyond sea with great treasures to
be used on the King’s behalf against his brother――Earl Robert, as
English lips called him. “And ofttimes upon the Earl he won, and to
him mickle harm either on land and on men did.”[1291] Here ends our
story. We get no further details till William became master of all
Normandy by quite another process. But though we get no details of the
war from Norman sources, we do get a general picture of its results.
The no-rule of Robert is once more set before us in speaking words.
The soft Duke, who feared his subjects more than they feared him, was
benumbed with softness and idleness.[1292] He is contrasted with both
his brothers. Henry held his stronghold at Domfront, together with a
large but undefined part of the duchy, including without doubt the
more part of his old peninsular county. Some places he had won by
arms; others, like Domfront itself, had sought his rule of their own
free will.[1293] Within these bounds he yielded to his brother the
Duke just so much service as he thought good,[1294] which at this
particular moment would be little indeed. And the other brother who
wore the diadem of England held more than twenty castles on Norman
ground. He, unlike Robert, was a ruler whom men feared; and his gifts,
and the fear of him together, kept many of the great men of the land,
not only in his allegiance, but in his zealous service.[1295] If
Normandy was not conquered, it was at least effectually dismembered.
[Sidenote: Norman supporters of William.]
[Sidenote: William of Eu.]
[Sidenote: Stephen of Aumale.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Meulan.]
[Sidenote: Walter Giffard.]
[Sidenote: Death of Roger of Beaumont. 1094.]
[Sidenote: Henry Earl of Warwick.]
[Sidenote: Death of Roger of Montgomery. 1094.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Bellême succeeds his father in Normandy, and Hugh
in England.]
[Sidenote: Death of Hugh of Grantmesnil.]
[Sidenote: His burial at Saint Evroul.]
[Sidenote: Death of Walter Giffard. 1102.]
[Sidenote: Eadmer’s judgement of the campaign.]
The list of the Norman nobles who joined the King from beyond sea
takes in most of the names with which we are most at home. There is
Ralph of Conches, Gerard of Gournay, Richard of Courcy. We hear now
too of Philip of Braose, a name to become famous in more than one part
of our island. And we find the names of men yet higher in power, and
nearer to the ducal house. There is the first author of the late
troubles, Count William of Eu, for the present still an adherent of
Rufus, before long to be heard of in quite another character. With him
stands Count Stephen of Aumale, also before long to play a part in our
story wholly different from that which we find him playing now. And it
is needless to say that Count Robert of Meulan was the Red King’s
servant in his Norman, as well as in his English character.[1296] Nor
do we wonder to find in the same list――for he was Earl of Buckingham
as well as lord of Longueville――the name of Walter Giffard, him who
appeared as an aged man forty years before.[1297] He still lived,
while, during this very year, more than one of the elder generation of
the famous men of Normandy passed away. The father of the Count of
Meulan, the old Roger of Beaumont, renowned so many years before alike
in arms and in council,[1298] died on the Norman soil which he had
guarded so well, and which he seems never to have left. He had for
some years left the world, to become a monk in the monastery of Preaux
of his father’s rearing.[1299] His estates had passed to his son at
Meulan, the mighty vassal of three lords. His younger son Henry had
his lot cast in England, where, perhaps before this time, the Red King
bestowed on him the earldom of Warwick. And, in the same year as the
lord of Beaumont, died, far away in England, another Roger, like him a
monk, but four days before a mighty earl, Roger of Montgomery, of
Arundel, and of Shrewsbury, the youngest brother of the house beyond
the Severn bridge of which he at least claimed to be the
founder.[1300] His vast possessions were divided at his death. Robert
of Bellême, already heir of his mother in the border-land, now became
heir of his father in Normandy. The earldom of Shrewsbury and Roger’s
other English estates passed to his second son Hugh, who bears the
character of being the only one of the sons of Mabel who was mild and
gentle[1301]――mild and gentle, we must understand, to Normans, perhaps
even to Englishmen, but certainly not to captive Britons. Of Hugh, as
well as of Robert of Bellême and Roger of Poitou, as well as of Arnulf
of Montgomery, a fourth son of the same fierce stock, we shall hear
much as our tale goes on. In England too, perhaps within his
sheriffdom of Leicester, died Hugh of Grantmesnil, of whom we have
lately heard in the civil wars both of Normandy and of England, and
whom his own shire and his neighbours of Northamptonshire had no
reason to bless. His body, we need hardly say, found its way across
the sea, to lie among his loyal bedesmen at Saint Evroul.[1302] These
men all left the world in the year with which we are now dealing, and
left the hoary Earl of Buckingham to be for eight years longer the
representative of an earlier day.[1303] The hands which eight and
twenty years before had been too feeble to bear the banner of the
Apostle[1304] were still, it would seem, ready to do whatever was
still found for them to do in the service of the Red King. But the
warfare of the King and his partisans is set down simply as one among
the many ways in which Normandy was torn in pieces by her own
children.[1305] An English writer meanwhile, on whose main subject the
Norman campaigns of Rufus had but a very indirect bearing, speaks
casually of this expedition as an undertaking on which a vast deal of
money was spent, but by which very little was gained.[1306]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Wretchedness of England.]
[Sidenote: Causes for the King’s return.]
[Sidenote: Affairs of Scotland]
[Sidenote: and Wales.]
[Sidenote: Plots at home.]
It is indeed to be borne in mind, as supplying at least a partial
explanation of the way in which the second Norman expedition comes to
an end without any end, that things in England were, just as they had
been three years and a half before, in a state which urgently called
for the presence of the King within his kingdom. We know not whether
it at all moved him that the heavy taxation which had been laid on his
kingdom for the cost of his warfare had brought the land to the lowest
pitch of wretchedness. Men, we are told, had ceased to till the
ground; hunger followed; there were hardly left any who could tend the
dying or bury the dead.[1307] These things might not have greatly
stirred the heart of the Red King; but he may, like other tyrants,
have felt that there was a bound beyond which oppression could not be
safely carried. And there were political and military reasons which
called him back. He could not afford to jeopard his undisputed
possession of England for the sake of a few more castles in Normandy.
He could hardly afford to jeopard for their sake the imperial
supremacy of his crown over the whole isle of Britain, a supremacy
which he was at that moment specially called on to assert. The year of
the second Norman campaign was a year of special importance in the
history both of Scotland and of Wales. While the Red King was warring
and bribing in Normandy, Scotland had, as in the days of Siward,
received a king from England, and, what had not happened in the days
of Siward, her people had slain the foreign nominee, and had again
chosen a king of their own. The first reign of Donald, the momentary
reign of Duncan, the beginning of the second reign of Donald, all of
them events which were not mere changes of sovereign, but real
revolutions in the state of the nation, had happened between the death
of Malcolm and the return of William from Normandy thirteen months
later. Wales too had risen in a movement which had more than was usual
of the character of real national insurrection, and the movement had
called for all the energies of the new Earl of Shrewsbury and of the
King himself on his return. And a plot yet nearer home, a plot to
deprive the King of his crown and life, a plot devised by men who had
been just now the foremost in supporting his cause, broke out soon
after his return. It broke out so soon after it that one is tempted to
think that it was already hatching, and that it was one of the causes
which brought him back. The seeming break-down of the Red King’s
second Norman campaign thus becomes more intelligible than some of the
other cases where he began an undertaking and failed to finish it.
William had plenty to do in Britain, both in camp and in council. As
soon as he was assured of the adhesion of his brother Henry, he could
afford, indeed he was driven, to leave him to do the work which had to
be done in Normandy.
§ 4. _The Council of Rockingham. December, 1094-March, 1095._
[Sidenote: Notices of the year 1095.]
[Sidenote: Councils of the year.]
The year to which the last Christmas feast introduces us brings
strongly home to us the singular way in which our general chroniclers
follow one line of events, while the special biographer of the
Archbishop follows another. There is no contradiction; but the gaps
which have to be filled up in each narrative are remarkable. It is not
perhaps wonderful that the biographer of Anselm should, even in a work
which bears a general title, pass by events which in no way affected
the history of Anselm. It is more remarkable that one of the most
striking scenes in Anselm’s history should not have been thought
worthy of notice by the more general annalists of our land. But so it
is. The year 1095 is a year of very stirring events, and it is
preeminently a year of councils. But, with a single exception, our two
authorities do not record the same events and the same councils. Both
tell us of the pallium being brought to Anselm; but, while one tells
us nothing of the most striking of the assemblies in which Anselm bore
a part, the other tells us nothing of the conspiracy, the revolt, the
war, which specially mark this year in the general story of England.
[Sidenote: Alleged Welsh campaign. January 9, 1095?]
[Sidenote: Movements of William. January-February, 1095.]
If our story is rightly told, the Christmas meeting of William and
Henry, followed before long by a Norman campaign on the part of Henry,
was followed yet more immediately by a Welsh campaign on the part of
William. The King took the affairs of his own island into his own
hands, and, for the present, he left those of the mainland to the
Count of Coutances. A winter campaign in Wales does not sound very
promising, and we are not surprised to hear that it did not add much
to the glory of the Red King’s arms.[1308] At all events it must have
been short, for, in the course of January and February we find him at
points at a considerable distance from the Welsh border. In January he
was at Cricklade in Wiltshire; in February he was at Gillingham in
Dorset, near to Ælfred’s monastery of Shaftesbury, and itself the
scene of the election of the Confessor.[1309] In both cases we hear of
the King’s movements through incidental notices in our ecclesiastical
story. The second is part of the story of Anselm; the first does not
concern Anselm himself; it forms part of the tale of the holiest of
his suffragans.
[Sidenote: Death of Wulfstan.]
[Sidenote: Sickness of Wulfstan.]
[Sidenote: Easter, 1094.]
[Sidenote: He dines with “good men.”]
[Sidenote: General respect for Wulfstan.]
[Sidenote: His correspondence.]
[Sidenote: His increased sickness. Whitsuntide, 1094.]
[Sidenote: Wulfstan and Robert of Hereford.]
[Sidenote: Death of Wulfstan. January 18, 1095.]
[Sidenote: His appearance to Bishop Robert.]
[Sidenote: His burial. Jan. 22.]
In this month of January the soul of the last surviving English
bishop, the sainted Wulfstan of Worcester, passed away. In the eyes of
one annalist his death was the great event of the year, and was
announced by signs and wonders in the heavens. “There was a stir among
the stars, and Wulfstan Bishop of Worcester died!”[1310] The health of
the good old man had been for some time ailing; we have seen that he
had latterly been unable to show himself in assemblies and ceremonies.
At the Easter of the year before his death, while the King was in
Normandy, he told his steward that on the day of the feast he meant to
dine in state with “good men.” The steward, mistaking the meaning of a
phrase which is ambiguous in several languages and which was specially
so in the English of his day,[1311] got together many of the rich men
of the neighbourhood――we are not told whether the Sheriff Urse was
among them. The day came; the Bishop entered the hall with a large
company of the poor, and ordered seats to be set for them among the
other guests. The steward was displeased;[1312] but Wulfstan explained
that those whom he brought with him were the men who had the true
riches; he had rather sit down with such a company than sit down, as
he had often done, with the King of the English.[1313] For Rufus, we
are told, always received Wulfstan with honour; we may doubt whether
either knew enough of the other’s language for rebukes to be met by
repartees. The great men of the realm did the like. Foreign princes,
prelates, and potentates honoured him with gifts and asked for his
prayers.[1314] Among his correspondents were the Pope――doubtless
Urban――Malcolm and Margaret of Scotland, and the kings of Ireland. To
this list are added the Archbishop of Bari and the Patriarch of
Jerusalem, which last name suggests correspondence on the common needs
of Christendom. At Pentecost Wulfstan was very sick; he sent for his
special friend Bishop Robert of Hereford, him whose skill had foretold
that Remigius would never dedicate his minster.[1315] Robert came; the
humble Wulfstan made his confession and submitted to the
discipline.[1316] But he lived on during the rest of that year.
Shortly after the beginning of the new year, he had another visit from
Bishop Robert and two abbots of his diocese, Serlo of Gloucester and
Gerald, abbot of the still unfinished house which Robert Fitz-hamon
was raising at Tewkesbury.[1317] Wulfstan again confessed; he foretold
his own death; he comforted his friends; he gave himself to religious
exercises, causing his seat in his chamber to be so placed that he
could see the altar in his chapel.[1318] At last, not many days after
Robert’s visit, the one remaining bishop of the old stock passed away
from his church and from the world. Men believed that he appeared _in
transitu_ to his friend Bishop Robert, who, as one who reconciled his
episcopal virtues with skill in the affairs of the world, was now with
the King at Cricklade.[1319] The vision bade Robert come to his
friend’s burial; he came, and the ceremony took place four days after
Wulfstan’s death, among a mighty gathering of those who had honoured
him in life. A generation later it was made a subject of complaint, a
subject of rebuke to an age which, we are told, was loath to believe
in signs and wonders, that so holy a man was not formally enrolled on
the list of saints.[1320] Aftertimes made up for this neglect.
Wulfstan became the chief object of local devotion, and no small
object of devotion throughout the land. The saint whom Rufus had
honoured in life became after death the special object of the devotion
of King John, who hoped to be safer in the next world if his body lay
in Wulfstan’s church under the shadow of Wulfstan’s shrine.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Anselm and Urban.]
[Sidenote: Need of the pallium.]
[Sidenote: Elder usage as to the pallium.]
[Sidenote: The pallium not needful for the validity of archiepiscopal
acts.]
[Sidenote: Character of William’s refusal.]
Another link with the past was thus snapped, and, what the King at
least thought more of, another bishopric passed into the hands of
Flambard. About a month after the shade of Wulfstan had appeared to
Bishop Robert in the King’s court at Cricklade, the living Anselm
showed himself to the King in person in his court at Gillingham.[1321]
Notwithstanding the hatred which William had expressed towards him at
Hastings, the Archbishop had reasons which urged him to seek another
interview. The errand on which he came was one at which he had hinted
before he had been invested with the archbishopric. He had then fairly
warned the King that, if he became archbishop, he must acknowledge
Urban as Pope.[1322] He had as yet done nothing towards acknowledging
him; he had taken no step which involved the acknowledgement of Urban
or of any other pope. With Anselm moral questions came first. The
points on which he had first striven to awaken the conscience of the
King had been the moral corruption of his court and kingdom, and the
synod which, in Anselm’s eyes at least, was the best means for its
reformation. But William had so utterly refused his consent to the
holding of a synod, he had so utterly refused to give Anselm any help
in his schemes of moral reform, that Anselm perhaps thought it useless
to press those subjects again upon him. The point which he still
thought it his duty to press was one which to us seems of infinitely
less importance than either, but with regard to which we must look at
matters with the eyes of Anselm’s day and not with the eyes of our
own. Anselm was full archbishop in all points spiritual and temporal,
as far as the spiritual and temporal powers of England could make him
so. But he still lacked one badge of metropolitan authority, without
which his position would certainly be deemed imperfect anywhere out of
England. He had not received the archiepiscopal _pallium_ from Rome.
He naturally wished for this final stage of his promotion, this sign
of recognition, as he would deem it, on the part of the Universal
Church and her chief pastor. Now this supposed need of the pallium was
not, like some of the claims of the Roman see, anything new. English
archbishops had gone to receive the pallium at Rome, or they had had
the pallium sent to them from Rome, in the days of the elder William,
in the days of Eadward, in the days of kings long before then.[1323]
Lanfranc had gone to Rome for his pallium with the full good will of
the Conqueror,[1324] and one of the chief ecclesiastical difficulties
of the time immediately before the Conqueror’s coming was the belief
that Stigand had received his pallium in an irregular way.[1325] The
amount of dependence on the Roman see which was implied in the receipt
of this badge of honour may perhaps be questioned. It would be
differently understood at Rome and at Canterbury. It would be
differently understood at Canterbury, according to the temper of
different archbishops, or according to their English or foreign birth.
But it is at least plain that the possession of the pallium was not at
this time looked on as at all needful for the validity of any
archiepiscopal act. Anselm, as yet unclothed with it, had consecrated
a bishop and had proposed to hold a synod. Still for the new
archbishop to go to Rome to receive that badge of his office which was
still lacking was a simple matter of course. Doubtless the journey
needed the formal leave of the king; but no king but William Rufus
would have thought of refusing his leave for the purpose. William had
indeed not acknowledged Urban; but Anselm had warned William that, if
he became archbishop, he must continue to acknowledge Urban, and
William had allowed him to become archbishop on those terms. The
earlier conduct of William in such matters could not have led Anselm
to think that he attached much real importance to the matter. William
of Saint-Calais had put forth the loftiest views of papal authority in
the hearing of William and Lanfranc, and they had been objected to on
quite other grounds. King and Primate had rightly objected when the
Bishop of Durham appealed from the King and his Witan to the Pope of
Rome; they had not quarrelled with the Bishop of Durham simply because
he had implied that there was a Pope of Rome. The refusal to allow
Anselm to go for the pallium could have come only from a king who was
determined to raise every point which could annoy the archbishop,
above all to raise every point which could by any chance drive him to
a resignation of the archbishopric. Or better still than all in the
Red King’s eyes would it be to find some point which could anyhow lead
to Anselm’s being deprived of the archbishopric. If such an end could
be gained, it would matter not by what power or by what process it was
done; it would matter not if it involved the forsaking on William’s
own part of every position which he had taken up.
[Sidenote: Anselm asks leave to go to Urban for the pallium.]
[Sidenote: William will acknowledge no pope.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s argument.]
[Sidenote: William’s answer.]
[Sidenote: Position of Anselm towards Urban.]
Anselm then came to Gillingham, and asked the King’s leave to go to
the Pope to ask for his pallium. William at once asked to which Pope
he meant to go.[1326] Anselm of course answered, To Urban. The King
said that he had not yet acknowledged Urban as Pope, that it was
neither his custom nor that of his father to allow any one in his
kingdom so much as to call any one Pope without his leave. So precious
was this right to him that to seek to take it from him was the same
thing as to seek to take away his crown.[1327] Anselm then set forth
the case of the two contending Popes, and his own personal case in the
matter. He reminded the King of what he had told him at Rochester
before he took the archbishopric, that, as Abbot of Bec, he had
acknowledged Urban, and that he could not withdraw from the obedience
which he had pledged to him. The King, in great wrath, said that
Anselm could not at once keep his faith towards himself and the
obedience which without his leave he had promised to Urban.[1328] Now,
when Anselm pledged his obedience to Urban, he was not an English
subject, and he needed no leave from the King of England for anything.
He acknowledged Urban, as all the rest of Normandy acknowledged him.
The obedience which he had thus pledged Anselm looked on as still
personally binding on him, though his temporal allegiance was
transferred to a kingdom where Urban was not acknowledged. William,
not unnaturally, took no heed of Anselm’s personal obligations.
Whatever the Abbot of Bec might have done, neither the Archbishop of
Canterbury nor any other English subject could acknowledge any Pope
without the King’s leave. After all, Anselm’s acknowledgement of Urban
had not yet gone further than speaking of him as Pope. He had had no
dealings with him of any kind. He indeed proposed to do an act which
would have been the fullest acknowledgement of Urban’s claims. But he
had proposed to do it only with the King’s leave. What he should do in
case the King refused to give him leave to go, he had not said, very
likely he had not settled in his own mind. He would do nothing
contrary to his obedience to Urban; but as yet his obedience to Urban
was wholly in theory. The King’s words now made it a practical
question; any kind of adhesion to Urban was declared by the King’s own
mouth to be inconsistent with the duties of one who was the man of the
King of England.
[Sidenote: Twofold duty of the Archbishop.]
[Sidenote: He asks for an assembly to discuss the question.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s purposes.]
[Sidenote: He will leave the realm if he may not acknowledge Urban.]
Anselm, it is plain, was most anxious to do his duty alike as
churchman and as subject. He saw no kind of inconsistency between the
two. No such questions had been raised in the days of Lanfranc, and he
had not done, or proposed to do, anything but what Lanfranc had done
before him. Reasonably enough, he was not prepared to admit the King’s
interpretation of the law which declared that he could not be the
friend at once of Urban and of William. And, in a thoroughly
constitutional spirit, he demanded that the question should be
referred to a lawful assembly of the kingdom. Let the bishops, abbots,
and lay nobles come together, and let them decide whether the two
duties were so inconsistent with each other as the King said they
were.[1329] By their judgement on the point of law he would abide. If
they ruled that it was as the King said, that obedience to Urban was
inconsistent with allegiance to William, then he would shape his own
course accordingly. If such should be their verdict, he could not
abide in the land without either openly throwing off the obedience of
Urban or else openly breaking his duty as subject and liegeman to
William. He would do neither. In such a case he would leave the realm
till such time as the King should acknowledge Urban.[1330] By that
means he would avoid all breach of either duty. The case might well
have been argued on another ground, whether it was not being righteous
overmuch to bring back again, for the sake of a technical scruple of
any kind, all the evils which would at once follow if the land were
again left without an archbishop. Anselm’s answer would doubtless have
been that he could not do evil that good might come. And it would be
much clearer to the mind of Anselm than it would have been to the mind
of any native Englishman that a withdrawal of obedience from Urban was
the doing of evil. The feelings of Aosta, even the feelings of Bec,
were not quite at home in the air of Gillingham. But the bringing in
of foreign ideas, feelings, and scruples, was one of the necessary
consequences of foreign conquest. Anselm obeyed his own conscience,
and his conscience taught him as a conscience schooled at Aosta and
Bec could not fail to teach him.
[Sidenote: Frequency of assemblies under Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Easter Gemót. March 25, 1095.]
[Sidenote: A special meeting summoned.]
[Sidenote: Assembly of Rockingham. March 11, 1095.]
To Anselm’s proposal for referring the matter to the Witan of the
kingdom William made no objection. The Red King seems never to have
had any objection to meeting either his great men or the general mass
of his subjects. He was in truth so strong that every gathering of the
kind became little more than a display of his power. But it is not
easy to see why the question could not have been kept open till the
ordinary Easter Gemót. That Gemót was held this year at Winchester,
and, as we shall see in another chapter, matters of no small moment
had to be treated in it. The King’s authority was beginning to be
defied in northern England, and at this Easter it had to be asserted.
But, for whatever reason, it was determined that a special assembly
should be summoned a fortnight before the regular meeting at
Winchester, for the discussion of the particular point which had been
raised between the King and the Archbishop. It illustrates the way in
which the kings and great men of that time were always moving from
place to place that a spot was chosen for the special meeting, far
away from the spot where William and Anselm then were, far away from
the place where the regular assembly was to be held so soon after.
Gillingham and Winchester were comparatively near to each other; but
the assembly which was to give a legal judgement as to Anselm’s
conflicting duties was summoned to meet on the second Sunday before
Easter at the royal castle of Rockingham on the borders of
Northamptonshire and Leicestershire, a place which had at least the
merit of being one of the most central in England.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: The King technically right.]
[Sidenote: Moral estimate of his conduct.]
[Sidenote: Position of the rival Popes.]
[Sidenote: William’s treatment of the question.]
[Sidenote: No real objection to Urban on his part.]
In the question which was now to be argued, there can be little doubt
that the King was technically in the right, as the law was understood
in his father’s time. By the custom of the Conqueror’s reign, no Pope
could be acknowledged without the King’s leave; and, though Anselm had
not taken any active or public step in acknowledgement of Urban, he
had acknowledged him in words spoken to the King himself, and he had
declared that he would not on any account withdraw his obedience from
Urban. At the same time one can hardly conceive a more pettifogging
way of interpreting the law, or a meaner way of abusing a legal power.
There was no reasonable ground for refusing to acknowledge Urban,
except on the theory that the deposition of Gregory and the election
of Clement were valid. Urban represented the claims of Gregory;
Clement still lived to assert his own claims. But though Lanfranc had
used cautious language about the dispute,[1331] England and her King
had never thought of acknowledging Clement or of withdrawing their
allegiance from Gregory. Gregory had been the Conqueror’s Pope, as
long as the two great ones both lived. And, if Clement’s election was
void from the beginning, Gregory’s death could not make his right any
better. Victor had succeeded Gregory, and Urban had succeeded Victor.
There could be no excuse for objecting to Urban, except on a ground
which William Rufus might have been glad to take up, but which he
could not take up with any decency. He might, not unreasonably from
his own point of view, have thrown himself into the Imperial cause, as
the common cause of princes. But he could not do this without throwing
blame on the conduct of his father. Or again, if he had tried, in any
legal or regular way, either to limit the papal power like Henry the
Second, or to cast it off altogether like Henry the Eighth, we at
least, as we read the story, could not have blamed him. But it was not
in the nature of William Rufus to do anything in a legal or regular
way. It was not in him to take up any really intelligible counter
position, either by getting rid of Popes altogether or by
acknowledging the Imperial Pope. It is true that he might have found
it hard to carry with him even his servile prelates, still harder to
carry his lay nobles, in either of those courses. But then it was just
as little in him honestly to take the third course which was open to
him, by frankly acknowledging Urban. It pleased him better to play
tricks with his claim to acknowledge popes, just as he played tricks
with his claim to appoint bishops and abbots. To keep the question
open, to give no reason on either side, but practically to hinder the
acknowledgement of any pope, was a more marked exercise of his own
arbitrary will than if he had ruled the disputed question either way.
But, just as he was ready to fill up a bishopric as soon as he thought
it worth his while in point of money, so he was quite ready to
acknowledge a pope as soon as it seemed worth his while to do so, in
point either of policy or of spite. All this while he had not the
slightest real objection to acknowledge Urban. Either now or very soon
after, he was actually intriguing with Urban, in hopes of carrying his
point against Anselm by his means.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Position of Rockingham.]
[Sidenote: History of the place.]
[Sidenote: The castle.]
[Sidenote: Description of the site.]
And now the Assembly came together which was to declare the law of
England as to the point in dispute between Anselm and the King. It was
not gathered in any of the great cities, or under the shadow of any of
the great minsters, of the realm. Nor yet was it gathered, as some
councils were gathered before and after, in one of those spots which
were simply the seats of the King’s silvan pleasures. Rockingham,
placed on the edge of the forest which bears its name, the wooded
ground between the sluggish streams of Nen and Welland, was
preeminently a hunting-seat; but it was not merely a hunting-seat; it
was also a fortress. As in so many cases, the Norman, in this case the
Conqueror himself, had seized and adapted to his own use the home and
the works of the Englishman. On a height just within the borders of
Northamptonshire, looking forth across the valley of the Welland over
the Danish land to the north, the Englishman Bofig had in King
Eadward’s days held _sac_ and _soc_ in his lordship of Rockingham. His
dwelling-place, like those of other English thegns, crowned a mound on
a site strong by nature, and which the skill of Norman engineers was
to change into a site strong by art. In the havoc which fell upon
Northampton, borough and shire, when William went forth to subdue the
Mercian land,[1332] the home of Bofig had become waste; and on that
waste spot the King ordered a castle to be built.[1333] At Rockingham,
as almost everywhere else, we find works earlier and later than the
time of our story, but nothing that we can positively assign to the
days of either William. There is no keep, as at Bridgenorth and at
Oxford, which we can assign to any of the known actors in our tale.
The mound of Bofig is yoked on to a series of buildings of various
dates, from the thirteenth century to the sixteenth. But we can still
trace the line of the walls and ditches which the Conqueror or his
successors added as new defences to the primitive mound and its
primitive ditch. Art and nature together have made the site almost
peninsular; but a considerable space, occupied by the parish church
and by the town which has sunk to a village, lies between the castle
and the stream that flows beneath the height. The site is a lordly
one, and is almost the more striking because it commands no other
great object such as those which are commanded by those castles which
were raised to protect or to keep down a city. When the forest was
still a forest in every sense of the word, the aspect of the castle of
Rockingham, one of the wilder retreats of English kingship, must have
been at once lonelier and busier than it is now.
[Sidenote: Meeting of the Assembly. March 11, 1095.]
[Sidenote: Place of meeting; the castle-chapel.]
[Sidenote: The King’s inner council.]
[Sidenote: Early hours of the assembly.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s opening speech.]
[Sidenote: He states his case.]
At Rockingham then the Assembly met, a fortnight before Easter. The
immediate place of meeting was the church within the castle.[1334] The
church has perished, but its probable site may be traced among the
buildings to the north of the mound. But it is hard to understand how
the narrow space of a castle-chapel could hold the great gathering
which came together at Rockingham. The King and his immediate
counsellors sat apart in a separate chamber, while outside were a
numerous body, among whom we hear of the bishops and nobles, but which
is also spoken of as a vast crowd of monks, clerks, and laymen.[1335]
It may be that, according to an arrangement which is sometimes found
elsewhere, but of which there is no present trace at Rockingham, the
great hall opened into the chapel, so that, while the church was
formally the place of meeting, the greater space of the hall would be
open to receive the overflowing crowd.[1336] The time of meeting was
the early morning; a midnight sitting of the Wise Men was an unknown
thing in those days. The King sat within in the outer space, whatever
was its nature, Anselm addressed the assembly, calling forth the
bishops and lords from the presence-chamber to hear him. We must
remember that, in the absence of the King, he was the first man in the
Assembly and its natural leader. He laid his case before his hearers.
He had asked leave of the King to go to Pope Urban for his pallium.
The King had told him that to acknowledge Urban or any one else as
Pope without his leave was the same thing as trying to take his crown
from him. The King had added that faith to him and obedience to Urban
were two things which could not go together; Anselm could not practise
both at once. It was this point which the Assembly had come together
to decide; it was on this point that their counsel was needed. He bade
his hearers remember that he had not sought the archbishopric, that in
truth he would gladly have been burned alive rather than take
it.[1337] They had themselves forced him into the office――the bishops
certainly had in a literal and even physical sense. It was for them
now to help him with their counsel, to lessen thereby the burthen
which they themselves had laid on his shoulder.[1338] He appealed to
all, he specially appealed to his brother bishops, to weigh the matter
carefully, and to decide. Could he at once keep his plighted faith to
the King and his plighted obedience to the Pope? It was a grave matter
to sin against either duty. Could not both duties be observed without
any breach of either?
[Sidenote: The real point avoided on the King’s side.]
[Sidenote: Assumption of the King’s party against Anselm.]
[Sidenote: He is treated as an accused person.]
[Sidenote: Conduct of the bishops.]
This was indeed the question which the Assembly was brought together
to consider and to decide. The meeting had been called, at Anselm’s
own request, to inform him on the point of law, whether he could
acknowledge Urban without disloyalty to William. But during a long
debate of two days, that real issue is never touched, till Anselm
himself calls back men’s minds to the real object of their coming
together. It is assumed throughout by the King and the King’s party
that the point of law is already settled in the sense unfavourable to
Anselm, that Anselm has done something contrary to his allegiance to
the King, that he is there as an accused man for trial, almost as a
convicted man for sentence. That he is a member of the Assembly, the
highest subject in the Assembly, that the whole object of the meeting
is to decide a question in which the King and his highest subject
understand the law in different ways, seems not to come into the head
of any of the King’s immediate counsellors. Least of all does it come
into the heads of the bishops, the class of men who play the most
prominent and the least creditable part in the story.
[Sidenote: Answer of the bishops.]
[Sidenote: The meeting adjourned till Monday.]
[Sidenote: Meeting of Monday, March 12.]
[Sidenote: Anselm and the bishops.]
[Sidenote: They counsel unreserved submission.]
[Sidenote: Position of the bishops.]
[Sidenote: Anselm makes no exclusive claims.]
[Sidenote: His second speech.]
[Sidenote: His two duties.]
To Anselm’s question then the bishops were the first to make answer.
They are spoken of throughout as acting in a body; but they must have
had some spokesman. That spokesman could not have been the Bishop of
Durham, who must surely have been sitting with the King in his inner
council. William of Saint-Calais comes on the scene afterwards, but no
bishop is mentioned by name at this stage. The answer of the episcopal
body was not cheering. The Archbishop had no need of their counsel. He
was a man prudent in God and a lover of goodness, and could settle
such points better than they could. If he would throw himself wholly
on the King’s will, then they would give him their advice;[1339] or
they would, if he wished, go in and report his words to the King. They
did so; and Rufus, with a scruple which one would rather have looked
for from Anselm, ordered that, as the day was Sunday, the discussion
should be adjourned to the morrow. Anselm was to go to his own
quarters, and to appear again in the morning. One might like to know
where, not only the Archbishop, but the whole host of visitors at
times like this, found quarters. Unless they were all the King’s
guests in the castle, and filled its nooks and corners how they might,
it must have been much harder to find lodgings at Rockingham than it
was at Gloucester. Monday morning came; Anselm, with his faithful
reporter Eadmer, went to the place of meeting. Sitting in the midst of
the whole Assembly,[1340] he told the bishops, as it would seem, that
he was ready to receive the advice which he had asked for yesterday.
They again answered that they had nothing to say but what they had
said yesterday; they had no advice to give him, unless he was ready to
throw himself wholly on the King’s will. If he drew distinctions and
reservations, if he pleaded any call on behalf of God to do anything
against the King’s will, they would give him no help.[1341] So low had
the prelacy of England fallen under the administration of Rufus and
Flambard. Neither as priests of God, nor as Witan of the realm, nor
simply as freemen of the land, was there any strength or counsel in
them. Their answer seems almost to imply that they cast aside the
common decencies, not only of prelates but of Christian men, that they
fully accepted the ruling of their sovereign, that the will of God was
not to be put into comparison with the will of the King. Anselm is not
doing like some before and after him, not even like his chief enemy in
the present gathering. He is not asserting any special privilege for
his order; he is not appealing from a court within the realm to any
foreign jurisdiction. He asks for counsel how he may reconcile his
duty to God with his duty to the King; and the answer he gets is that
he has nothing to do but to submit to the King’s will; the law of God,
and seemingly the law of England with it, are to go for nothing. But
there was at least some shame left in them; when they had given their
answer, they held their peace and hung down their heads, as if waiting
for what Anselm might lay upon them.[1342] Then the Primate spoke,
seemingly not rising from his seat, but with uplifted eyes, with
solemn voice, with a face all alive with feeling.[1343] He looked at
the chiefs of Church and State, prelates and nobles, and told them
that if they, shepherds and princes,[1344] could give no counsel save
according to the will of one man, he must betake him to the Shepherd
and Prince of all. That Shepherd and Prince had given a charge and
authority to Peter first, and after him to the other Apostles, to the
Vicar of Peter first and after him to all other bishops, a charge and
authority which He had not given to any temporal prince, Count, Duke,
King, or Emperor.[1345] He owed a duty to his temporal prince, for the
Lord had bidden him to render to Cæsar the things that were Cæsar’s.
But he was bidden also to render to God the things that were God’s. He
would, to the best of his power, obey both commands. He must give
obedience to the Vicar of Peter in the things of God; in those things
which belonged to the earthly dignity of his lord the King, he would
ever give his lord his faithful counsel and help, according to the
measure of his power.
[Sidenote: Position of England towards the Popes.]
[Sidenote: Anselm and William of Saint-Calais.]
[Sidenote: Anselm not the first to appeal to Rome.]
The words are calm and dignified, the words of a man who, forsaken by
all, had no guide left but the light within him. There is indeed a
ring about some of Anselm’s sayings which is not pleasing in English
ears; we may doubt whether Dunstan would have drawn the distinction
which was drawn by Anselm. And yet that distinction comes to no more
than the undoubted truth that we should obey God rather than man. The
only question was whether obedience to Pope Urban was a necessary part
of obedience to God. The foreign clergy doubtless held stronger views
of papal authority than had been known of old in England; but we may
be sure that every man, native or foreign, held that the Bishop of
Rome had some claim on his reverence, if not on his obedience. The
ancient custom that an English archbishop should go to him for the
pallium shows it of itself. The craven bishops themselves would, if
secretly pressed by their consciences or their confessors, have spoken
in all things as Anselm spoke. And there was one hard by, if not
present in that company, yet within the wall of the same castle, who
had gone many steps further Romeward than Anselm went. Closeted with
the King, caballing with him against the man of God, was Bishop
William of Durham, the man who had openly appealed to the Pope from
the sentence of an English court, the man who had openly refused to
Cæsar what was most truly Cæsar’s, who had denied the right of the
King and Witan of England to judge a bishop, even in the most purely
temporal causes.[1346] Anselm had made no such appeal; he had made no
such exclusive claims; it is needless to say that he did not, like
William of Saint-Calais, take to the policy of obstruction, that he
did not waste the time of the assembly by raising petty points of law,
or subtle questions as to the befitting dress of its members.[1347]
Anselm was a poor Papist, one might almost say a poor churchman,
beside that still recent phase of the bishop who had now fully learned
that the will of God was not to be thought of when it clashed with the
will of the King. It was not Anselm, but the man who sought to
supplant Anselm, who had taken the first and greatest step towards the
establishment of foreign and usurped jurisdictions within the realm.
[Sidenote: Answer of the bishops.]
[Sidenote: Anselm goes in to the King.]
[Sidenote: Anselm asleep.]
[Sidenote: The King’s message.]
[Sidenote: Advice of the bishops.]
[Sidenote: Anselm to submit to the King in all things.]
The bishops heard the answer of their Primate. They rose troubled and
angry; they talked confusedly to one another; they seemed as if they
were pronouncing Anselm to be guilty of death.[1348] They turned to
him in wrath; they told him that they would not carry to the King such
a message as that, and they went out to the room where the King was.
But it was right that the King should know what Anselm’s answer had
been. Anselm had no one whom he could send on such an errand; it was
not in his nature to thrust another into the mouth of the lion when he
could brave the danger himself. He went into the presence-chamber; he
repeated his own words to the King, and at once withdrew. The wrath of
William was kindled; he took counsel with the bishops and the nobles
of his party, to see what answer he could make; but they found none.
As in the hall at Lillebonne, when the Conqueror put forth his plan
for the invasion of England,[1349] men were to be seen talking
together by threes and fours, seeking for something to say which might
at once soften the King’s wrath and at the same time not directly deny
the doctrine set forth by Anselm.[1350] They were long over their
discussion; the subject of their debates meanwhile sat leaning against
the wall of the place of meeting, in a gentle sleep.[1351] He was
awakened by the entrance of the bishops, accompanied by some of the
lay nobles, charged with a message from the King. His lord the King
bade him at once, laying aside all other words――the words, one would
think, of dreamland so cruelly broken in upon――to hear, and to give
his answer with all speed.[1352] They had not as yet to announce any
solemn judgement of the King and his Witan; their words still took the
form of advice; but it was advice which was meant to be final and
decisive.[1353] As for the matters which had been talked about between
him and the King at Gillingham, the matter for whose decision he had
sought the present adjournment, the matter at issue was plain and
easy. The whole realm was complaining of the Archbishop, because he
was striving to take away from the common lord of all of them his
crown, the glory of his Empire. For he who seeks to take away the
King’s dignities and customs seeks to take away his crown; the one
cannot be without the other.[1354] They counselled Anselm at once to
throw aside all obedience and submission to Urban, who could do him no
good, and who, if he only made his peace with the King, could do him
no harm. Let him be free, as an Archbishop of Canterbury should be in
all his doings; as free, let him wait for the will and bidding of the
King in all things.[1355] Let him, like a wise man, confess his fault
and ask for pardon; then should his enemies who now mocked at his
misfortunes, be put to shame as they saw him again lifted up in
honour.[1356]
[Sidenote: Their definition of freedom.]
[Sidenote: Anselm will not reject Urban.]
Such was the advice which the stranger bishops of England, with such
of the stranger nobles as acted with them, gave to the stranger
Primate. Such was their prayer, such was their counsel; such was the
course which they insisted on as needful for Anselm and for all who
held with him. Among those was the true Englishman who wrote down
their words, and who must have smiled over the definition of freedom
which, even in their mouths, has a sound of sarcasm. Anselm said that,
to speak of nothing else, he could not cast aside his obedience to the
Pope. But it was evening; let there be an adjournment till the morrow;
then he would speak as God should bid him.[1357] The bishops deemed
either that he knew not what more to say or else that he was beginning
to yield through fear.[1358] They went back to the King, and urged him
that the adjournment should not be allowed, but that, as the matter
had been discussed enough, if Anselm would not agree to their counsel,
the formal judgement of the Assembly should be at once pronounced
against him.[1359]
[Sidenote: William of Saint-Calais.]
[Sidenote: His schemes against Anselm.]
[Sidenote: He aspires to the archbishopric.]
[Sidenote: Objects of the King.]
And now for the first time we come across a distinct mention of an
individual actor, standing out with a marked personality from the
general mass of the assembled Witan. Foremost on the King’s side, the
chosen spokesman of his master, was the very man who had gone so far
beyond Anselm, who had forestalled Thomas himself, in asserting the
jurisdiction of the Bishop of Rome within this realm of England.
William of Saint-Calais, who, when it suited his purpose, had appealed
to the Pope, who had been so anxious to go to the Pope, but who, when
he had the means of going, had never gone, stood now fully ready to
carry out the Imperial teaching that what seems good to the prince has
the force of law. This man, so ready of speech――that we have seen long
ago――but, in Eadmer’s eyes at least, not rich in any true wisdom, was
all this time stirring the King up to wrath against Anselm, and doing
all that he could to widen the breach between them.[1360] Men
believed, on Anselm’s side at least, that his object was to bring
about the Archbishop’s deprivation or resignation by any means, in
hopes that he might himself succeed him.[1361] Was this mere surmise,
or had the Bishop of Durham any solid ground for looking forward to a
translation to Canterbury? Had he the needful means? William of
Saint-Calais was not a servant of the King’s to make a fortune in his
service, like Randolf Flambard or Robert Bloet. He had risen, like
Anselm himself, through the ranks of monk, prior, abbot, and bishop.
But so too had Herbert Losinga, who had managed to buy a bishopric for
himself and an abbey for his father. William of Saint-Calais had since
his consecration spent three years in banishment while his bishopric
was in the King’s hands. Still he may, during his two terms of
possession before and after, have screwed enough out of the patrimony
of Saint Cuthberht to pay even the vast price at which the
archbishopric would doubtless be valued. Or he may have fondly dreamed
that, if Anselm could be got rid of by his means, the service would be
deemed so great as to entitle him to Anselm’s place as a free gift.
Anyhow he worked diligently on the King’s behalf. We are told――and the
picture is not out of character――that Rufus wished to get rid of
Anselm as the representative within his realm of another power than
his own. He deemed himself to be no full king as long as there was any
one who put the will of God before the will of the King, or who named
the name of God as a power to which even the King must yield.[1362] In
his hatred to Anselm, he hoped to carry one of two points. Either the
Archbishop would abjure the Pope, and would abide in the land a
dishonoured man who had given up the cause for which he strove. Or
else, if he still clave to the Pope, the King would then have a
reasonable excuse for driving him out of the kingdom.
[Sidenote: Bishop William’s promises to the King.]
[Sidenote: His speech to Anselm.]
To these intrigues of the blaspheming King the Bishop of Durham was
not ashamed to lend himself. He recked nothing of the dishonour under
which it was thought that Anselm would hardly bear to live. He
promised to the King that he would bring about one of two things;
either the Archbishop should renounce the Pope, or else he should
formally resign the archbishopric by restoring the ring and
staff.[1363] Now seemingly was the time to press him, when he was
weary with the day’s work and sought for a respite, when his enemies
were beginning to hope that, either through fear or weariness, he
would be driven to yield. So the bishops again went back from the King
to the Archbishop, with him of Durham as their leader and spokesman.
The time-server made his speech to the man of God. “Hear the King’s
complaint against you. He says that, as far as lies in your power, you
have robbed him of his dignity by making Odo Bishop of Ostia”――William
of Saint-Calais had had other names for him in an earlier
assembly――“Pope in his England[1364] without his bidding. Having so
robbed him, you ask for an adjournment that you may devise arguments
to prove that that robbery is just. Rather, if you please, clothe him
again with the dignify of his Empire,[1365] and then talk about an
adjournment. Otherwise know that he will invoke the wrath of Almighty
God upon himself, and we his liegemen will have to make ourselves
sharers in the curse, if he grants you an adjournment of an hour.
Wherefore at once make answer to the words of our lord, or else expect
presently a judgement which shall chastise your presumption. Do not
think that all this is a mere joke; we are driven on by the pricks of
a heavy grievance.[1366] Nor is it wonderful. For that which your lord
and ours claims as the chief thing in his whole dominion, that in
which it is allowed that he surpasses all other kings,[1367] that you
unjustly take away from him as far as lies in your power, and by
taking it away you throw scorn on the oath which you have sworn to
him, and plunge all his friends into this distress.”
[Sidenote: William’s Imperial claim.]
[Sidenote: William and the vassal kingdoms.]
[Sidenote: His ill-success at this moment.]
Here are forms of words which may make us stop to study them. In this
speech, and in the one which went before it, we see the ground on
which William founded a claim to which he attached such special
importance. It was not merely the King of the English, it was the
_Basileus_ of Britain, the Cæsar of the island world, whose dignity
was deemed to be touched. To allow or to refuse the acknowledgement of
Popes is here declared by William of Saint-Calais to be no part of the
prerogative of a mere king; it is spoken of as the special attribute
of Empire. He who, alone among Christian princes, knew no superior
either in the elder or the younger Rome, was alone entitled to judge
how far the claims of the Pontiff of one world should be acknowledged
in another. This sole claim to Imperial power on behalf of the Monarch
of all Britain[1368] might have been disputed in the last age in
Bulgaria and in the next age in Castile; at that moment William of
England was without a rival. He might even, if he chose to take up
Anselm’s line of argument, bear himself as more truly Imperial than
the German king whose Roman crown had been placed on his head by a
schismatic pontiff. And yet at no moment since the day when Scot and
Briton and Northman bowed to Eadward the Unconquered had the Emperor
of the Isle of Albion been less of an Emperor than when Anselm met the
Red King at Rockingham. The younger William had indeed fallen away
from the dominion of the father who had received the homage at
Abernethy and had made the pilgrimage to Saint David’s. The Welsh were
in open and triumphant revolt; the Scots had driven out the king that
he had given them. The Welsh had broken down his castles; the Scots
had declared their land to be barred against all William’s subjects,
French and English.[1369] True he was girding himself up for great
efforts against both enemies; but those efforts had not yet been made.
William was just then as far away as a man could be from deserving his
father’s surnames of the Conqueror and the Great. At such a moment, we
may really believe that he would feel special annoyance at anything
which might be construed as casting doubt even in theory on claims
which he found it so hard to assert in practice. In the moment of his
first great success in England, there had been less to bring the wider
and loftier side of his dominion before his mind. He had thought less
of his right to allow or to refuse the acknowledgement of Popes in the
days when the _regale_ was asserted by Lanfranc and the _pontificale_
by William of Saint-Calais, than he thought now that the _regale_ was
asserted by William of Saint-Calais and the _pontificale_ by Anselm.
[Sidenote: The real question hitherto evaded.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s challenge.]
[Sidenote: He states the real case.]
[Sidenote: New position of the bishops.]
The shamelessness of the words of William of Saint-Calais in the mouth
of William of Saint-Calais might have stirred even the meek Anselm to
wrath. But he bore all with patience; he only seized, with all the
skill of his scholastic training, on the palpable fallacy of the
Bishop’s argument. The Assembly had come together to discuss and
settle a point of law. Was the duty which Anselm professed towards the
Pope inconsistent or not with the duty which he no less fully
acknowledged towards the King? On that point not only had no judgement
been given, but no arguments either way had been heard. Messages had
gone to and fro; Anselm had been implored, advised, threatened; but
prayers, advice, and threats had all assumed that the point which they
had all come there to discuss had already been ruled in the sense
unfavourable to Anselm. William of Saint-Calais could talk faster than
Anselm; but, as he had not Anselm’s principle, so neither had he
Anselm’s logic. Anselm saw both his intellectual and his moral
advantage. His answer to the Bishop of Durham took the shape of a
challenge. “If there be any man who wishes to prove that, because I
will not give up my obedience towards the venerable chief Pontiff of
the holy Roman Church, I thereby break the faith and oath which I owe
to my earthly King, let him stand forth, and, in the name of the Lord,
he will find me ready to answer him where I ought and as I ought.” The
real issue was thus at last stated; Anselm demanded that the thing
should at last be done which the Assembly had been called for the very
purpose of doing. The bishops were puzzled, as they well might be;
they looked at one another, but no one had anything to say; so they
went back to their lord.[1370] Our guide however puts thoughts into
their hearts which Anselm had certainly not uttered, which his
position in no way implied, and which one is tempted to think that
both Anselm and Eadmer first heard of in later times when they came to
talk with a pope face to face. The bishops, we are told, remembered,
what they had not thought of before, that an Archbishop of Canterbury
could not be judged on any charge by any judge except the Pope.[1371]
This may be so far true as that William of Saint-Calais may have
remembered the day when he had urged those very claims on behalf, not
only of an Archbishop of Canterbury, but of a Bishop of Durham. If the
other bishops had any such sudden enlightenment, they did well to keep
their new light to themselves. The doctrine that no one but a Pope
could judge the Archbishop, combined with the doctrine that there
could be no Pope in England without the King’s leave, amounted, during
the present state of things, to a full licence to the Archbishop to do
anything that he might think good.
[Sidenote: Anselm insulted.]
[Sidenote: Popular feeling on his side.]
[Sidenote: Anselm and the knight.]
[Sidenote: “Vox populi vox Dei.”]
[Sidenote: Perplexity of the King.]
[Sidenote: His speech to the bishops.]
[Sidenote: William of Saint-Calais breaks down.]
[Sidenote: The assembly adjourned.]
Meanwhile things were taking a new turn in the outer place of
assembly. There a state of mind very unlike that of the King’s inner
council began to show itself. There were those, as there will always
be in every gathering of men, whose instinct led them to insult and
trample on one who seemed to be falling. By such men threats,
revilings, slanders of every kind, were hurled at the Archbishop, as
he sat peacefully waking and sleeping, while William of Saint-Calais
marched to and fro at the head of his episcopal troop. But threats and
revilings were not the only voices that Anselm heard. The feeling of
the great mass of the assembly was with him. Well might it be so.
Englishmen still abiding on their own soil, Normans who on English
soil were growing into Englishmen, men who had brought with them the
spirit which had made the Conqueror himself pause on the day of
Lillebonne, were not minded to see the assembly of the nation turned
into a mere tool to carry out a despot’s will. They were not minded
that the man whose cause they had come together to judge according to
law should be judged without law by a time-serving cabal of the King’s
creatures. English thegns, Norman knights, were wrought in another
mould from the simoniacal bishops of William’s court. A spirit began
to stir among them like the spirit of the old times, the spirit of the
day which called back Godwine to his earldom and drove Robert of
Jumièges from his archbishopric. When Anselm spoke and William of
Saint-Calais stood abashed and speechless, the general feeling of the
assembly went with the man who was ready to trust his cause to the
event of a fair debate, against the man who could do nothing but take
for granted over and over again the very question which they had come
there to argue. There went through the hall that deep, low murmur
which shows that the heart of a great assembly is stirring and that it
will before long find some means of clearer utterance. But for a while
no man dared to speak openly for fear――it is Eadmer’s word――of the
tyrant.[1372] At last a spokesman was found. A knight――we should
gladly know his name and race and dwelling-place――stepped forth from
the crowd and knelt at the feet of Anselm,[1373] with the words,
“Father and lord, through me your suppliant children pray you not to
let your heart be troubled at what you have heard; remember how the
blessed Job vanquished the devil on his dunghill, and avenged Adam
whom he had vanquished in paradise.” Anselm received his words with a
pleased and cheerful look; for he now knew that the heart of the
people was with him. And his true companions rejoiced also, and grew
calmer in their minds, knowing the scripture――so our guide tells
us――that the voice of the people is the voice of God.[1374] While a
native English heart was thus carried back to the feelings of bygone
times, the voice of the stranger King, to whom God was as a personal
enemy, was speaking in another tone. His hopes had utterly broken
down; his loyal bishops had made promises to him which they had been
unable to fulfil. When he heard how popular feeling was turning
towards Anselm, he was angered beyond measure, to the very rending
asunder of his soul.[1375] He turned to his bishops in wrath. “What is
this? Did you not promise that you would deal with him altogether
according to my will, that you would judge him, that you would condemn
him?” The boasted wisdom, the very flow of speech, of their leader the
Bishop of Durham now failed him; he spoke as one from whom all sense
and reason had gone away.[1376] All that he could say who had so
lately with curses and threats refused Anselm’s plea for an
adjournment was to propose an adjournment himself. It was night; let
Anselm be bidden to go to his own quarters; they, the bishops, would
spend the night in thinking over what Anselm had said, and in devising
an answer on the King’s behalf.[1377] The assembly was accordingly
prorogued till the next morning, and Anselm went to his own quarters,
uncondemned, with his cause as yet unheard and unanswered, but
comforted doubtless that he had put his enemies to silence, and that
he had learned that the hearts of the people were with him.
[Sidenote: March 13, 1095.]
[Sidenote: Debates in the inner council.]
[Sidenote: William of Saint-Calais recommends force.]
[Sidenote: The lay nobles refuse.]
[Sidenote: Speech of the King.]
[Sidenote: Speech of Robert of Meulan.]
Tuesday morning came, and Anselm and his companions took their seats
in the accustomed place,[1378] awaiting the King’s bidding. That
bidding was slow in coming. The debates in the King’s closet were
perplexed. The King and his inner counsellors were working hard to
find some excuse for the condemnation of Anselm. The King asked the
Bishop of Durham how he had passed the night;[1379] but the night
thoughts of William of Saint-Calais, sleeping or waking, did not bring
much help to the royal cause. He confessed that he could find no way
to answer Anselm’s argument, all the more because it rested on holy
writ and the authority of Saint Peter. We must always remember that
the texts which Anselm quoted, and the interpretation which he put
upon them, were in no way special to himself. Every one acknowledged
them; William of Saint-Calais had appealed to them when it suited his
purpose to do so. But the bishop who had once laid the lands of
northern England waste could recommend force when reason failed. He
whose dealings towards the King in whose cause he was now working had
been likened to the deed of Judas was now ready to play Judas over
again towards the Patriarch of all the nations beyond the sea. “My
counsel,” he said in plain words, “is that he be put down by
force;[1380] if he will not consent to the King’s will, let the ring
and staff be taken from him, and let him be driven from the kingdom.”
This short way of dealing with the Archbishop, proposed by the man who
had once argued that none but the Pope could judge any bishop, suited
the temper of the King; it did not suit the temper of the lay nobles.
Many of them had great crimes of their own to repent of; but they
could see what was right when others were to practise it. Besides
Anselm was in one way their own chief; if they were great feudatories
of the kingdom, so was he, the highest in rank among them. The
doctrine that the first vassal of the kingdom was to be stripped of
his fief at the King’s pleasure might be dangerous to earls as well as
to bishops. The lay nobles refused their consent to the violent scheme
of the Bishop of Durham. The King turned fiercely on them. “If this
does not please you, what does please you? While I live, I will not
put up with an equal in my kingdom.” Speaking confusedly, it would
seem, to bishops and barons alike, he asked, “If you knew that he had
such strong grounds for his cause, why did you let me begin the suit
against him? Go, consult, for, by God’s face, if you do not condemn
him according to my will, I will condemn you.”[1381] The common
spokesman was found in him whose counsel was held to be as the oracle
of God.[1382] Count Robert of Meulan spoke, and his speech was
certainly a contrast to that of Bishop William, though both alike,
these two special counsellors, confessed that Anselm had been too much
for them. “All day long were we putting together counsels with all our
might, and consulting how our counsels might hang together, and
meanwhile he, thinking no evil back again, sleeps, and, when our
devices are brought out, with one touch of his lips he breaks them
like a spider’s web.”[1383]
[Sidenote: The King and the bishops.]
[Sidenote: The king bids the bishops withdraw their obedience from
Anselm.]
[Sidenote: He withdraws his protection.]
[Sidenote: The bishops and abbots carry the message.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s answer.]
When the temporal lords, the subtlest of counsellors among them, thus
failed him, the King again turned to his lords spiritual. “And you, my
bishops, what do you say?” They answered, but their spokesman this
time is not mentioned; Bishop William, it would seem, had tried and
had failed. They were grieved that they could not satisfy the pleasure
of their lord. Anselm was Primate, not only of the kingdom of England,
but of Scotland, Ireland, and the neighbouring islands――lands to which
William’s power most certainly did not reach at that moment. They were
his suffragans;[1384] they could not with any reason judge or condemn
him, even if any crime could be shown against him, and now no crime
could be shown. “What then,” asks William, “can be done?” The question
was answered by a suggestion of his own, one which sounds as if it
really were his own, and not the device of Bishop William or Count
Robert. If the bishops could not judge him, could they not withdraw
from him all obedience and brotherly friendship? This, they said, if
he commanded it, they could do. It is not clear by what right they
could withdraw their obedience from a superior whom they could not
judge; but both king and bishops were satisfied. The bishops were to
go and do the business at once; when Anselm saw that he was left
alone, he would be ashamed, and would groan that he had ever forsaken
his lord to follow Urban.[1385] And, that they might do this the more
safely, the King added that he now withdrew from Anselm all protection
throughout his Empire, that he would not listen to or acknowledge him
in any cause,[1386] that he would no longer hold him for his
archbishop or ghostly father. Though the King’s commandment was
urgent, the bishops still stayed to devise other devices against
Anselm; yet found they none. At last the bishops, now taking with them
the abbots, a class of whom we have not hitherto heard in the story,
went out and announced to Anselm at once their own withdrawal of
obedience and friendship and the King’s withdrawal of protection. The
Archbishop’s answer was a mild one. They did wrong to withdraw their
obedience and friendship where it was due, merely because he would not
withdraw his where it was also due. But he would not deal by them as
they dealt by him. He would still show them the love of a brother and
a father; he would do what he could for them, as brethren and sons of
the church of Canterbury, to bring them back from their error into the
right way. And whereas the King withdrew from him all protection and
would no longer acknowledge him as father and archbishop, he would
still discharge to the King every earthly duty that lay upon him, and,
so far as the King would let him,[1387] he would still do his duty for
the care of the King’s soul. Only he would, for God’s service, still
keep the name, power, and office, of Archbishop of Canterbury,
whatever might be the oppression in outward things that it might bring
upon him.
[Sidenote: The King turns again to the lay lords.]
[Sidenote: The lay lords support Anselm.]
[Sidenote: The King’s difficulties.]
[Sidenote: Shame of the bishops.]
[Sidenote: The King further examines the bishops.]
[Sidenote: His treatment of them.]
His words were reported to the King.[1388] We are again admitted to
witness the scene in the presence-chamber. The bishops had proved
broken reeds; William would make one more appeal to the lay nobles.
“Everything that he says,” began the King, “is against my pleasure,
and no one shall be my man who chooses to be his.[1389] Wherefore, you
who are the great men of my kingdom, do you, as the bishops have done,
withdraw from him all faith and friendship, that he may know how
little he gains by the faith which he keeps to the Apostolic See in
defiance of my will.” But the lay lords were not like the bishops; one
would like to know by what mouth they made their calm and logical
answer. They drew a clear distinction between spiritual and temporal
allegiance. The King had told them that no one could be his man and
the Archbishop’s at once, and he had bidden them to withdraw their
faith――clearly using the word in the feudal sense――from the
Archbishop. They answered that they were not the Archbishop’s men,
that they could not withdraw from him a fealty which they had never
paid to him. This of course was true of the lay nobles as a body,
whatever questions there might be about Tunbridge castle or any other
particular fief. But they went on to say that, though Anselm was not
their lord, yet he was their archbishop, that it was he who had to
“govern Christianity” in the land; that, as Christian men, they could
not, while in that land, decline his mastership, all the more as there
was no spot of offence in him which should make the King treat him in
any other way.[1390] Such an answer naturally stirred up William’s
wrath; but the earls and great barons of his kingdom were a body with
whom even he could not dare to trifle. He was stronger than any one
among them; he might not be stronger than all of them together, backed
as they now were, as the events of the day before had shown, by
popular feeling. He had once beaten the Norman nobles at the head of
the English people; he might not be able to beat the Norman nobles and
the English people together. He therefore made an effort, and kept
down any open outburst of the wrath that was in him.[1391] But the
bishops were covered with confusion; they felt that all eyes were
turned on them, and that their apostasy was loathed of all.[1392] This
and that bishop was greeted, seemingly by this or that earl or baron,
with the names usual in such cases, Judas, Pilate, and Herod.[1393]
Then the King put the trembling bishops through another examination.
Had they abjured all obedience to Anselm, or only such obedience as he
claimed by the authority of the Roman Pontiff?[1394] The question was
hard to answer. Anselm does not seem to have claimed any obedience by
virtue of the authority of the Pope; he had simply refused to withdraw
his own obedience from the Pope. Some therefore answered one way, some
another. But it was soon plain which way the King wished them to
answer. The real question in William’s mind had nothing to do with the
Pope; any subtlety about acknowledging this or that Pope was a mere
excuse. It was Anselm himself, as the servant of God, the man who
spake of righteousness and temperance and judgement to come, that
Rufus loathed and sought to crush. Those bishops therefore who said
that they had abjured Anselm’s obedience utterly and without condition
were at once bidden to sit down as his friends in seats of
honour.[1395] Those who said that they had abjured only such obedience
as was claimed by the Pope’s authority, were sent, like naughty
children, into a corner of the room, to wait, as traitors and enemies,
for their sentence of condemnation.[1396] But they debated among
themselves in their corner, and soon found the means of winning back
the royal favour. A heavy bribe, paid at once or soon after, wiped out
even the crime of drawing distinctions while withdrawing their
obedience from a metropolitan whom the King hated.[1397]
[Sidenote: Anselm wishes to leave England.]
[Sidenote: Perplexity of the King.]
[Sidenote: Another adjournment.]
While his suffragans were undergoing this singular experience of the
strength of the secular arm, Anselm sent a message to the King. He now
asked that, as all protection within the kingdom was withdrawn from
him, the King would give him and his companions a safe-conduct to one
of his havens, that he might go out of the realm till such a time as
God might be pleased to put an end to the present distress.[1398] The
King was much troubled and perplexed. He wished of all things for
Anselm to leave the kingdom; but he feared the greater scandal which
would arise if he left the kingdom while still in possession of the
archbishopric, while he saw no way of depriving him of it.[1399] He
again took counsel; but this time he did not trouble the bishops for
their advice. Of them he had had enough; it was their counsel which
had brought him into his present strait.[1400] He once more turned to
the lay lords. They advised yet another adjournment. The Archbishop
should go back to his own quarters in the King’s full peace,[1401] and
should come again in the morning to hear the King’s answer to his
petition. Many of the King’s immediate courtiers were troubled; they
groaned at the thought of Anselm’s leaving the land.[1402] But he
himself went gladly and cheerfully to his lodgings, hoping to cross
the sea and to cast off all his troubles and all the burthens of the
world.[1403]
[Sidenote: Wednesday, March 14, 1095.]
[Sidenote: Anselm summoned to the King’s presence.]
[Sidenote: The lay lords propose a “truce.”]
[Sidenote: Adjournment till May 20.]
The fourth day of the meeting came, and the way in which its business
opened marks how the tide was turning in Anselm’s favour. A body of
the nobles came straight from the King, asking the Primate to come to
the royal presence.[1404] Anselm was tossed to and fro between the
hope of leaving the kingdom and the fear of staying in it. Eadmer was
eager to know what would be the end of the whole matter.[1405] They
set forth and reached the castle. They were not however, at first at
least, admitted to the presence-chamber, but sat in their wonted
place. Before long the lay nobles, accompanied by some of the bishops,
came to Anselm. They were grieved, they said, as old friends of his,
that there had been any dispute between him and the King. Their object
was to heal the breach, and they held that the best means towards that
object was to agree to an adjournment――a truce, a peace[1406]――till a
fixed day, during which time both sides should agree to do nothing
which could be counted as a breach of the peace. Anselm agreed, though
he said that he knew what kind of peace it would be.[1407] But it
should not be said of him that he preferred his own judgement to that
of others. To all that his lord the King and they might appoint in the
name of God he would agree,[1408] saving only his obedience to Pope
Urban. The lords approved; the King agreed; he pledged his honour to
the observance of the peace till the appointed day, the octave of
Pentecost. The day seems to have been chosen in order that the other
business of the Whitsun Gemót might be got over before the particular
case of Anselm came on. If matters had not been brought to an
agreement before that time, the case was to begin again exactly at the
stage in which it had left off at Rockingham.[1409] It is not clear
whether, even at this last moment, William and Anselm again met face
to face. But the Archbishop, by the King’s leave, went to Canterbury,
knowing that the truce was but an idle and momentary veiling of hatred
and of oppression that was to come.[1410]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Importance of the meeting at Rockingham.]
So it soon proved; yet the scene at Rockingham was a victory, not only
for a moment but for ever. No slight step had been taken in the great
march of English freedom, when Anselm, whom the King had sought to
condemn without trial or indictment, went back, with his own immediate
case indeed unsolved, but free, uncondemned, untried, with the voice
of the people loud in his favour, while the barons of the realm
declared him free from every crime. It was no mean day in English
history when a king, a Norman king, the proudest and fiercest of
Norman kings, was taught that there were limits to his will. It is
like a foreshadowing of brighter days to come when the Primate of all
England, backed by the barons and people of England――for on that day
the very strangers and conquerors deserved that name――overcame the Red
King and his time-serving bishops. The day of Rockingham has the
fullest right to be marked with white in the kalendar in which we
enter the day of Runnymede and the day of Lewes.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: William keeps faith to Anselm personally.]
[Sidenote: He oppresses his friends.]
The honour of the chivalrous King was pledged to the peace with
Anselm. But the honour of the chivalrous King was construed after a
truly chivalrous fashion. William doubtless thought that he was doing
all that a true knight could be expected to do, if he kept himself
from any personal injury to the man to whom he had personally pledged
his faith. Anselm was unhurt; he was free; he went whither he would;
he discharged the ordinary duties of his office undisturbed; it does
not appear that he was in any way personally molested, or that any of
the property of his see was taken into the King’s hands. But William
knew full well how to wreak his malice upon Anselm without breaking
the letter of the faith which he had pledged. He knew how to grieve
Anselm’s loving heart far more deeply than it could be grieved by any
wrong done to himself. The honour of the good knight was pledged to
Anselm personally; it was not pledged to Anselm’s friends and tenants.
Towards them he might, without breach of honour, play the greedy and
merciless king. A few days after Anselm had reached Canterbury, Rufus
sent to drive out of England the Archbishop’s cherished friend and
counsellor the monk Baldwin of Tournay,[1411] and two of his clerks.
Their only crime was standing by their master in the trial which still
stood adjourned.[1412] The Archbishop’s chamberlain was seized in his
master’s chamber before his master’s eyes; false charges were brought
against his tenants, unjust imposts were laid upon them, and other
wrongs of many kinds done to them.[1413] The church of Canterbury, it
was said, began to doubt whether it had not been better off during the
vacancy than now that the archbishopric was full.[1414] And all this
while, heavy as William professed to deem the crime of so much as
giving Urban the title of Pope, William’s own dealings with Urban were
neither slight nor unfriendly.
§ 5. _The Mission of Cardinal Walter._ 1095.
[Sidenote: Events of the months of truce, March-May, 1095.]
[Sidenote: Assemblies of the year.]
The months of truce between the King and the Archbishop were, as our
next chapter will show, busy months in other ways. William Rufus was
all this time engaged in another dispute with a subject of a rank but
little below that of the Primate, a dispute in which, at least in its
early stages, the King appears to much greater advantage than he
commonly does. A conspiracy against William’s throne and life was
plotting; Robert of Mowbray was making ready for revolt, and his
refusal to appear, when summoned, at the Easter and Whitsun assemblies
of this year was the first overt act of his rebellion. We may conceive
that Anselm did not attend either of those gatherings; that of
Whitsuntide we know that he did not. It might be more consistent with
the notion of the truce that he should keep away from the King’s
presence and court till the time which had been fixed for the
controversy formally to begin again. At Easter and for some time
after, Anselm seems to have stayed at Canterbury, and, while he was
there, the metropolitan city received an unexpected visitor, who did
not allow himself to be treated as a guest.
[Sidenote: Position of Urban.]
[Sidenote: Council of Piacenza. May 1-7.]
[Sidenote: Its decrees.]
[Sidenote: No mention of English affairs.]
[Sidenote: William’s fresh schemes to turn the Pope against Anselm.]
The year which we have reached was one of the most memorable in the
history of the papacy. Urban, though not in full possession of Rome,
had kept his Christmas there a year before, and his cause was
decidedly in the ascendant throughout the year of the Red King’s
second Norman campaign.[1415] At the beginning of the next year, after
keeping Christmas in Tuscany, Urban went on into Lombardy, where the
Emperor still was, though his rebel son Conrad, crowned and largely
acknowledged as King of Italy, was far more powerful than his
father.[1416] Almost on the same days as those which in England were
given to the council of Rockingham, Urban held his great council of
Piacenza, a council so great that no building could hold its numbers;
the business of the assembly was therefore done, as we have seen it
done in our own land, in the open fields.[1417] There the Empress
Praxedes told her tale of sorrow and shame; there the cry of Eastern
Christendom, set forth in the letters of the Emperor Alexios, was
heard and heeded; there the heresy of Berengar, already smitten by
Lanfranc,[1418] was again condemned; there a new set of anathemas were
hurled at the married clergy,[1419] and a more righteous curse was
denounced against the adulterous King of the French. But no mention
seems to have been made of English affairs; one is a little surprized
at the small amount of heed which the dispute between the King and the
Archbishop seems to have drawn to itself in foreign lands. Yet, next
to the ups and downs of the Emperor himself, one would have thought
that no change could have so deeply affected the Roman see as the
change from William the Great to William the Red. It is part of the
same general difficulty which attaches to the Red King’s career, the
strange fact that the worst of all crowned sinners, the foulest in
life, the most open in blasphemy, the most utter scorner of the
ecclesiastical power, never felt the weight of any of those
ecclesiastical censures which so often lighted on offenders of a less
deep dye. But if Urban was not thinking about William, William was
certainly thinking about Urban. It was at this stage that we light on
the curious picture which we have before seen, showing us England in a
state of uncertainty, and seemingly of indifference, between the rival
Pontiffs.[1420] But just now it suited William to acknowledge some
Pope, because he thought that his only chance of carrying out his
purposes against Anselm was by the help of a Pope. He had found that
no class of men in his kingdom, except perhaps some of the bishops,
would support him in any attempt to deprive the Primate of his own
arbitrary will. Mere violence of course was open to him; but his Witan
would not agree to any step against Anselm which made any pretence to
legal form, and, with public feeling so strongly on Anselm’s side,
with a dangerous rebellion brewing in the realm, the King might well
shrink from mere violence towards the first of his subjects. His new
device was to acknowledge a Pope, and then to try, by his usual arts,
arts which Rome commonly appreciated, to get the Pope whom he
acknowledged to act against the Archbishop. To see Anselm deprived, or
in any way humbled, by an exercise of ecclesiastical power, would be
to wound Anselm in a much tenderer point, and would therefore be a
much keener satisfaction to his own spite, than anything that he could
himself do with the high hand.
[Sidenote: Mission of Gerard and William of Warelwast.]
[Sidenote: Their commission.]
[Sidenote: They are practically sent to acknowledge Urban.]
As soon therefore as William found, by the issue of the meeting at
Rockingham, that Anselm could not be bent to his will, and that he
could practically do nothing against Anselm, he sent two trusty clerks
of his chapel and chancery on a secret and delicate errand. They were
men of the usual stamp, both of whom afterwards rose to those high
places of the Church which were just then commonly reserved for men of
their stamp. They were Gerard, afterwards Bishop of Hereford and
Archbishop of York, and William of Warelwast, afterwards Bishop of
Exeter. As we read our account of their commission, it would almost
seem as if they were empowered to go to Rome, to examine into the
state of things, and to acknowledge whichever seemed to be the true
Pope, or rather whichever Pope was most likely to suit their master’s
purpose. But practically they had no choice but to acknowledge Urban.
Local English feeling might indeed set little store by one who simply
“hight Pope, though he nothing had of the settle at Rome;”[1421] but
Urban was plainly the stronger Pope, the Pope acknowledged by all who
were not in the immediate interest of the Emperor. And, what was more,
Urban was the only Pope who could carry out William’s purpose. A
censure from Urban would be a real blow to Anselm and to Anselm’s
partisans; a censure from Clement would in their eyes go for nothing,
or rather it would be reckoned as another witness in their favour.
Practically Gerard and William of Warelwast went to acknowledge Urban,
and to see what they could make of him. They went secretly. Anselm
knew nothing of their going. Most likely nothing was known of their
errand by any man beyond the innermost cabal of the King’s special
counsellors.[1422]
[Sidenote: Urban at Cremona. April 10, 1095.]
[Sidenote: Dealings of Gerard and William with Urban.]
[Sidenote: The Sicilian “Monarchy.”]
[Sidenote: Relations between England and Sicily.]
Their mission is said to have been to Rome; but the name Rome must be
taken in a conventional sense for any place where the Pope might be.
It is not likely that they really reached the Eternal City. In the
former part of April Urban was at Cremona, and was received there with
great state by the rebel King Conrad.[1423] The momentary effort of
Henry which followed, his vain attempt on Nogara, only raised the
position of Urban and the Great Countess yet higher.[1424] It was most
likely at Cremona that the ministers from England met Urban. They were
to try, if possible, to win over the Pontiff, by gifts, by promises,
by any means, to send a pallium to England for the King to bestow on
the Archbishop of Canterbury, without mentioning the name of Anselm.
They were, it seems, to try to obtain for the King a legatine
authority like that which, then or later, had been granted to the
Norman princes of Sicily.[1425] A Norman king of England was surely as
worthy of such powers as a Norman Great Count of Sicily; and
throughout these disputes we ever and anon see the vision of the
“Sicilian Monarchy,” as something at which kings of England were
aiming, and which strict churchmen condemned, whether in Sicily or in
England.[1426] It is even possible that Gerard and William of
Warelwast may have discussed the matter with some members of the
Sicilian embassy which about this time brought the daughter of Count
Roger to Pisa as the bride of King Conrad.[1427] Close intercourse
between the Norman princes of the great Oceanic and the great
Mediterranean island is now beginning to be no small element in
European politics. Some commission of this kind from the Pope was what
William’s heart was set upon; he thought he had good right to it; he
thought that his hope of it could not be doomed to disappointment.[1428]
Did the proudest of men look forward, as an addition to royal and
imperial power, to a day when he might fill a throne in the mother
church of England, looking down on the patriarchal chair, as the empty
thrones of later Williams still look down on the lowlier metropolitan
seats of Palermo and Monreale?
[Sidenote: Gerard and William come back,]
[Sidenote: and bring Cardinal Walter as Legate.]
[Sidenote: He brings a pallium.]
[Sidenote: Secrecy of his errand.]
[Sidenote: His interview with the King.]
[Sidenote: William acknowledges Urban.]
[Sidenote: Walter refuses to depose Anselm.]
The dates show that the journeys must have been hasty, and that the
business was got through with all speed. The two clerks could not have
left England before the middle of March, and May was not far advanced
before they were in England again, and a papal Legate with them. This
was the Cardinal Walter, Bishop of Albano, whose good life is
witnessed by our own Chronicler.[1429] His Italian subtlety showed
itself quite equal to the work of outwitting the King and his
counsellors whenever he chose; but his Roman greediness could not
always withstand their bribes. He came, bringing with him a pallium,
but the whole affair was, by the King’s orders, shrouded in the
deepest mystery. Not a word was said about the pallium; indeed the
Legate was not allowed to have any private discourse with any man. His
two keepers, Gerard and William, watched him carefully; they passed in
silence through Canterbury, and took care not to meet the
Archbishop.[1430] A few days before Whitsuntide, Cardinal Walter had
an interview with the King. He spoke so that William understood him to
be willing to abet all his purposes. Some special privilege was
granted to William, which amounted at the least to this, that no
legate should be sent into England but one of the King’s own
choosing.[1431] Not a word did Cardinal Walter say on behalf of
Anselm, not a word that could make peace between him and the King, not
a word that could give Anselm any comfort among all the troubles that
he was enduring on behalf of the Christian religion and of the
authority of the Holy See.[1432] Many who had looked for great good
from the Legate’s coming began to murmur, and to say, as Englishmen
had learned to say already and as they had often to say again, that at
Rome gold went for more than righteousness.[1433] To King William
everything seemed to be going as he wished it to go. Fully satisfied,
he put out a proclamation that throughout his Empire――through the
whole patriarchate of Anselm――Urban should be acknowledged as Pope and
that obedience should be yielded to him as the successor of Saint
Peter.[1434] Walter had now gained his point; William fancied that he
had gained his. He at once asked that Anselm might be deprived of his
archbishopric by the authority of the Pope whom he had just
acknowledged. He offered a vast yearly payment to the Roman See, if
the Cardinal would only serve his turn in this matter.[1435] But
Walter stood firm; he had done the work for which he had come; England
was under the obedience of Urban. And, much as gold might count for at
Rome, neither the Pope nor his Legate had sunk to the infamy of taking
money to oppress an innocent man and a faithful adherent. Anselm was
indeed treated by them as Englishmen, whether by race, by birth, or by
adoption, whether Edmund, Thomas, or Anselm, commonly were treated by
Popes. He was made a tool of, and he got no effectual support; but
Urban was not prepared for such active wickedness as the Red King
asked of him.
[Sidenote: William and his counsellors outwitted by the Legate.]
[Sidenote: He is driven to a reconciliation with Anselm.]
William was now thoroughly beaten at his own weapons. The craft and
subtlety of Randolf Flambard, of William of Saint-Calais, of the
Achitophel of Meulan himself, had proved of no strength before the
sharper wit of Walter of Albano. The King complained with good right
that he had gained nothing by acknowledging Urban.[1436] In truth he
had lost a great deal. He had lost every decent excuse for any further
attack upon Anselm. The whole complaint against Anselm was that he had
acknowledged Urban. But the King had now himself acknowledged Urban,
and he could not go on persecuting Anselm for simply forestalling his
own act. In legal technicality doubtless, if it was a crime to
acknowledge Urban when the King had not yet acknowledged him, that
crime was not purged by the King’s later acknowledgement of him. Rufus
himself might have been shameless enough to press so pettifogging a
point; but he had learned at Rockingham that no man in the land, save
perhaps a few servile bishops, would support him in so doing. There
was nothing to be done but for William to make up his quarrel with
Anselm, to make it up, that is, as far as appearances went, to make it
up till another opportunity for a quarrel could be found. But till
such opportunity was found, Anselm must be openly and formally
received into the King’s favour.[1437] The thing had to be done;
only if some money could be squeezed out of Anselm in the process of
doing it, the chivalrous King would be the better pleased.
[Sidenote: Whitsun Gemót at Windsor. May 13, 1095.]
[Sidenote: The King’s message to Anselm.]
[Sidenote: The Legate’s coming revealed to Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Anselm will not pay for the pallium.]
[Sidenote: Anselm and William reconciled.]
[Sidenote: Their friendly discourse.]
The feast of Pentecost came, and with it the second of the assemblies
at which the rebellious Earl of Northumberland refused to show
himself. The King and his Witan were at Windsor; the Archbishop was
keeping the feast at his manor of Mortlake. On the octave he was
himself, according to the truce made at Rockingham, to appear at
Windsor. In the course of the Whitsun-week a message was brought to
him from the King, bidding him go to Hayes, another of his manors
nearer to Windsor, in order that messages might more easily go to and
fro between him and the King.[1438] He went, and Eadmer went with him.
The next day nearly all the bishops came to him; some of them, it will
be remembered, had kept the King’s favour throughout, and the others
who had lost it had bought it again. Their object was to try to
persuade the Archbishop to give money to the King for the restoration
of his favour. Anselm answered stoutly, as before, that he would not
so dishonour his lord as to treat his friendship as something which
could be bought and sold.[1439] He would faithfully discharge every
temporal duty to his lord, on the one condition of being allowed to
keep his obedience to Pope Urban. If that was not allowed, he would
again ask for a safe-conduct to leave the kingdom. They then told
him――the secret must have been still kept, though Urban was
acknowledged――that the Bishop of Albano had brought a pallium from the
Pope; they did not scruple to add that he had, at the King’s request,
brought it for Anselm.[1440] Would not the Archbishop pay something
for so great a benefit?[1441] Would he not at least, now that the
pallium had come to him instead of his going for the pallium, pay the
sum which the journey to Rome would otherwise have cost him?[1442]
Anselm would pay nothing. The King had thus to make the best of a bad
bargain. As Anselm would not pay for either friendship or pallium,
there was nothing to be done but to let him have both friendship and
pallium without paying. The King once more consulted his lay nobles,
and, by their advice,[1443] he restored Anselm to his full favour, he
cancelled all former causes of quarrel, he received him as archbishop
and ghostly father, and gave him the fullest licence to exercise his
office throughout the realm. One condition only seems to have been
made; Anselm was to promise that he would observe the laws and customs
of the realm and would defend them against all men.[1444] The promise
was made, but with the express or implied reservation of duty to
God.[1445] That was indeed the reservation which William most hated;
but in his present frame of mind he may have brought himself to
consent to it. Anselm came to Windsor, and was admitted by the King to
his most familiar converse in the sight of the lords and of the whole
multitude that had come together.[1446] Cardinal Walter came in at the
lucky moment, and was edified by the sight. He quoted the scripture,
“Behold, how good and joyful it is brethren to dwell together in
unity.” He sat down beside the friendly pair; he quoted other
scriptures, and expressed his sorrow that he himself had not had any
hand in the good work of bringing them together.
[Sidenote: Anselm asked to take the pallium from the King.]
[Sidenote: He refuses.]
[Sidenote: Assent of the Assembly.]
The wild bull and the feeble sheep thus seemed for a moment to pull
together as friendly yokefellows. But a Norman king did not, in his
character of wild bull, any more than in his character of lion,
altogether cast aside his other character of fox. He, or Count Robert
for him, had one shift left. Or it might almost seem that it was not
the King’s own shift, but merely the device of flatterers who wished
to win the royal favour by proposing it. Would not the Archbishop, for
the honour of the King’s majesty, take the pallium from the King’s
hand?[1447] Anselm had made no objection to receiving the staff from
the King’s hand, for such was the ancient custom of England. But with
the pallium the King had nothing to do; it belonged wholly to the
authority of Saint Peter and his successor.[1448] Anselm therefore
refused to take the pallium from the King. The refusal was so clearly
according to all precedent, the proposal the other way was such a
manifest novelty, that nothing more was said about the matter. It was
settled that, on a fixed day, the pallium should be laid on the altar
of Christ in the metropolitan church, and that Anselm should take it
thence, as from the hand of Saint Peter himself.[1449] The expression
used is remarkable, as showing that the popular character of these
assemblies had not utterly died out. “The whole multitude
agreed.”[1450] They agreed most likely by a shout of Yea, Yea, rather
than by any more formal vote; but in any case it was that voice of the
people which Eadmer at least knew to be the voice of God.
[Sidenote: Anselm absolves two repentant bishops.]
[Sidenote: Robert and Osmund.]
[Sidenote: Wilfrith of Saint David’s restored.]
The Archbishop and his faithful comrade now set out for Canterbury.
But he was called on to do some archiepiscopal acts by the way. They
had hardly left Windsor when two bishops came to express their
repentance for the crime of denying their metropolitan at
Rockingham.[1451] These were the ritualist Osmund of Salisbury, and
Robert of Hereford, the friend of Wulfstan. It was believed that,
besides the visit at the moment of his departure, the saint of
Worcester had again appeared to Bishop Robert. He had warned him of
divers faults in his life and in the administration of his diocese,
giving him however good hopes if he mended his ways.[1452]
Notwithstanding this voice from the dead, Robert had consented to the
counsel and deed of them at Rockingham; he now came with Osmund to ask
pardon. Anselm turned into a little church by the wayside, and gave
them absolution. Then and there too he did another act of
archiepiscopal clemency to a more distant suffragan. Wilfrith Bishop
of Saint David’s had been――we are not told when――suspended for some
fault――we are not told what. Anselm now restored him to his episcopal
office.[1453]
[Sidenote: Anselm receives the pallium at Canterbury. June 10, 1095.]
The Archbishop went on to Canterbury, and there awaited the coming of
the Roman Cardinal. On the appointed day, a Sunday in June, Bishop
Walter came. He was met with all worship by the convents of the two
monasteries, Christ Church and Saint Augustine’s, by a great body of
clergy, and by a vast crowd of layfolk of both sexes. The Bishop of
Albano bore the precious gift in a silver casket. As they drew near to
Christ Church, Anselm, with bare feet, but in the full dress of his
office, supported on either side by the suffragans who had come to the
ceremony, met the procession. The pallium was laid on the altar; it
was taken thence by the hand of Anselm, and reverently kissed by those
who were near him.[1454] The Archbishop was then clothed with his new
badge of honour; nothing was now wanting to his position. Already
invested, consecrated, clothed with full temporal and spiritual powers
within his own province by the King and the bishops of England, he now
received the solemn recognition of the rest of the Western Church, in
the person of its chief Pontiff.[1455] Anselm and England were again
in full fellowship with the lawful occupier of the apostolic throne.
Nothing now was wanting. The Archbishop, clad in his pallium, sang the
mass. But, as at his consecration, men found an evil omen in part of
the words of the service. The gospel of the day told of the man who
made a great supper and bade many, but whose unthankful guests began
to make excuse.[1456]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Death of Bishop Robert of Hereford. June 26, 1095.]
[Sidenote: The Legate stays in England.]
[Sidenote: Objects of Walter’s mission.]
[Sidenote: His dealings with Anselm.]
The reception of the pallium by Anselm was the last great ceremony
done in the metropolitan church during this his first primacy; it was
one of the very few great ceremonies done in the unaltered church of
Lanfranc. And, if we are to understand that all the suffragans of
Canterbury were present, one of them was soon taken away. Not many
days after Anselm first put on the pallium, his late penitent, Bishop
Robert of Hereford, left the world, to join for ever, as the charity
of Worcester believed, the saintly friend whom he had twice
wonderfully seen.[1457] Cardinal Walter meanwhile stayed in England
during the greater part of that year, and according to some accounts
for some months of the year which followed. Notwithstanding the good
life for which the Chronicler gives him credit, he seems, like other
Romans, to have been open to the King’s special means of influence,
and a foreign writer who had good means of knowing seems to speak of
his general conduct in England as having greatly tended to bring his
office into discredit.[1458] His commission from Pope Urban was a
large one. Among other things, he had to look to the better payment of
the Romescot,[1459] which, it will be remembered, had not always
flowed regularly into the papal coffers even in the days of the
Conqueror,[1460] and which of course did not flow at all in the days
when no Pope was acknowledged in England. He had also to enquire
generally into the state of things in England, and to consult with
Anselm as to the means of reform. It is plain however from most
independent testimonies that the Archbishop and the Cardinal were by
no means suited to work together. Two letters from Anselm to Walter
throw a singular light on some points in the story which are not
recorded in any narrative. The personal intercourse of the two
prelates was interfered with by a cause which we should hardly have
looked for, namely, the occupation of Anselm in the duties of a
military command. But it is plain that Anselm did not look for much
good from any special intercourse between himself and the Cardinal. He
writes that private conferences between the two were of no use; they
could do nothing without the King’s consent and help.[1461] But Anselm
seems to have taken a more constitutional view of the way by which the
King’s consent and help was to be got than the Roman Legate was likely
to take. Anselm says that they would meet to no purpose, except when
the King, the bishops, and the nobles, were all near to be referred
to.[1462] This reads very much as if Anselm was aware of some
underhand practices between the King and the Legate, and had no mind
to meet the emissary of Rome except when he himself would have the
constitutional voice of the nation to back him. But as things stood at
the moment, circumstances seem to have hindered the meeting for which
Walter seems to have wished and Anselm not to have wished.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: The King’s northern march.]
[Sidenote: Anselm entrusted with the defence of Canterbury.]
[Sidenote: Letters between Anselm and Walter.]
[Sidenote: Position of the bishops.]
[Sidenote: The bishops object to Anselm’s position.]
We are now in the thick of the revolt of Earl Robert of Mowbray, the
tale of which will be told in full in the next chapter. The King was
on his march northward to put down the revolt. King, Archbishop, and
Legate, had parted as if the Legate at least was not to see either of
the other two again in England.[1463] At such a time the desired
conference could not be held; and Anselm himself was bound for the
time within a very narrow local range. While the King marched on
towards Northumberland, the Archbishop was entrusted with the care of
Canterbury, perhaps of Kent generally, against an expected Norman
invasion.[1464] If Anselm’s conscience would have allowed him to take
part in actual warfare, we can hardly fancy that he would have proved
a captain to the liking of the Red King. Yet it does sometimes happen
that a simple sense of duty will carry a man with credit through
business the most opposite to his own temper and habits. It is more
likely however that the duty really laid upon Anselm, as upon Wulfstan
at Worcester, was rather to keep the minds of the King’s forces up to
the mark by stirring exhortations, while the task of personally
fighting and personally commanding was given to others. Still he was,
both by the King’s word of mouth and by his writ and seal, entrusted
with the care of the district,[1465] and he deemed it his duty not to
leave Canterbury, except to go to any point that might be immediately
threatened.[1466] Why Walter could not have come to Canterbury is not
clear. Anyhow personal communication was hindered, and to that
hindrance we owe a letter which gives us a further insight into the
almost incredible shamelessness of the King’s courtly bishops. Walter,
it is plain, had been rebuking them for their conduct towards Anselm.
They were open to ecclesiastical censure for denying their archbishop,
and he blames Anselm himself for too great lenity towards them.[1467]
Anselm pleads that they had returned to him and had promised obedience
for the future.[1468] The others, it would seem, had followed the
example of the Bishops of Hereford and Salisbury. But it comes out in
the letter that some of these undutiful suffragans had taken up the
strangest and most self-condemning line of defence. These men,
cringing slaves of the King, who had carried every mean and insulting
message from the King to the Primate, who had laid down the rule that
neither bishops nor other men had anything to do but to follow the
King’s will in all things, were not ashamed to plead that Anselm was
no lawful archbishop, that he could claim no duty from them, simply
because he had done what they had themselves done in a far greater
degree. These faithful servants of King William were not ashamed to
urge that their master and his kingdom had been in a state of schism,
cut off from the Catholic Church and its lawful head, and that Anselm
had been a partaker in the schism. He had received investiture from a
schismatic King; he had done homage to that schismatic King, and had
received consecration from schismatic bishops. In other words, they
plead that Anselm is no lawful archbishop, because he had been
consecrated by themselves.
[Sidenote: His answer.]
[Sidenote: Question about the monks of Christ Church.]
[Sidenote: Anselm and his tenants.]
A more shameless plea than this could hardly be thought of, but Anselm
does not seem stirred by its shamelessness. He simply answers the
doubt which was cast on his own appointment and consecration as calmly
as if it had been started by some impartial outsider.[1469] Those who
consecrated him were not schismatics; no judgement had cut them off
from the communion of the Church. They had not cast off their
allegiance to the Roman Pontiff; they all professed obedience to the
Roman See; they had not in any way denied that Urban was the lawful
Pope; they had simply, in the midst of the controversy which was going
on, doubted whether it was their clear duty to receive him as
such.[1470] That his own position was perfectly good was shown by the
conduct of the Pope himself. Urban knew all that had happened between
him and the King, together with all the circumstances of his
consecration. So knowing, he had treated him as lawfully consecrated,
and had sent him the pallium by Walter’s own hands.[1471] If such
objections had any force, why had not Walter spoken of them before he,
Anselm, had received the pallium?[1472] Another passage in this letter
would seem to imply that some complaint had been made as to Anselm’s
dealings with the monks of his own church. The Cardinal asks Anselm to
leave them in free possession of their goods.[1473] Anselm answers
that he earnestly desires the peace and advantage of his monks, and
with God’s help he will do all that lies in his power to settle
everything for their advantage.[1474] Anselm and his monks seem to
have been commonly on the best of terms. Still we seem here to see the
beginnings of those disputes which grew into such terrible storms a
hundred years later. The lands of the monks had, as we have
seen,[1476][**dup anchor] not been spared during the vacancy of the
archbishopric. And it may be that some wrong had been again done to
them when the King was molesting the Archbishop’s men during the time
of truce. We heard not long ago of great complaints going up during
that time; some of them may have taken the formal shape of an appeal
to the Cardinal. Anselm’s reeves may have been no more scrupulous than
the reeves of other men. Indeed we find a curious witness that it was
so. The question was raised why Anselm, a monk and a special lover of
monks, did not always live at Canterbury, among his monks.[1475]
Several answers are given. The most remarkable is that his presence in
his manors was needed to protect his poorer tenants from the
oppression of his reeves.[1476] When such care was needed on behalf of
the tenants, it is quite possible that the reeves might sometimes
meddle wrongfully with the possessions of the monks also.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Gemót of Windsor and Salisbury. Christmas, 1095-1096.]
[Sidenote: Anselm attends the Bishop of Durham on his death-bed.
January, 1096.]
[Sidenote: Consecration of bishops.]
[Sidenote: Samson Bishop of Worcester.]
[Sidenote: Gerard Bishop of Hereford, Archbishop of York 1100.]
[Sidenote: Consecration of Gerard and Samson. June 6, 1096.]
A time of peace for Anselm followed, though hardly a time of peace for
England. Before the year was out the King had put down the revolt in
Northumberland; Earl Robert of Mowbray was his prisoner. An expedition
against the Welsh was less successful, and Scotland still remained
under the king of her own choice. The Christmas Gemót, of which we
shall have presently to speak at length, was a famous, and, what was
not usual in our early assemblies, a bloody gathering. It was held at
Windsor and was then adjourned to Salisbury; at the former place at
least Anselm was present, and he had an opportunity of showing
Christian charity to an enemy. At Windsor Bishop William of Durham
sickened and died. His latter days are so closely connected with the
fall of Earl Robert that they will be better spoken of elsewhere. It
is enough to say here that his last hours were cheered by the ghostly
help of the holy man against whom he had so deeply sinned. Meanwhile
Anselm, comforted by the recall of his friend Baldwin,[1477] was doing
his duty in peace; ruling, writing, exhorting, showing love to every
living creature,[1478] ever and anon called on to discharge the
special duties of his office. In this interval he consecrated two
bishops to sees within the realm. The churches of Worcester and
Hereford were vacant by the deaths of the two friends Wulfstan and
Robert. Both sees were filled in the year after they fell vacant. Were
they filled after the usual fashion of the Red King’s day, or was
Anselm, now, outwardly at least, in William’s full favour, able during
this interval of peace to bring about some relaxation of the crying
evil of this reign? There is no direct statement either way; we can
judge only by what we know of the characters of the two men appointed.
Neither of them, one would think, was altogether to the mind of
Anselm. In the place of the holy Wulfstan, the diocese of Worcester
received as its bishop, and the monks of Worcester received as their
abbot, a canon of Bayeux, Samson by name, a brother of Archbishop
Thomas of York. The influence of the Northern Primate may perhaps be
seen in the appointment of his kinsman to a see so closely connected
with his own. Samson was one of the school of learned men with whom
Odo――it was his one redeeming merit――had filled his church of
Bayeux.[1479] He was as yet only in deacon’s orders, and he was
possibly married, at least he is said to have been the father of the
second archbishop Thomas of York.[1480] He seems to have been one of
those prelates, who, without any claim to special saintship, went
through their course at least decently. He was bountiful to all; to
the monks of Worcester he did no harm――some harm seems to have been
looked for from a secular――beyond suppressing their dependent
monastery of Westbury.[1481] Of the new Bishop of Hereford we know
more. He was that Gerard who had helped to bring Cardinal Walter to
England, one of the King’s clerks, not even in deacon’s orders, and a
thorough time-server.[1482] We cannot help suspecting that his
bishopric was not granted for nothing, whatever may have been the case
with Samson at Worcester. The bishops-elect came to Anselm for
consecration. He was then with his friend Gundulf at Lambeth, then a
manor of the see of Rochester. In the chapel of the manor Anselm
ordained them priests.[1483] The next day he consecrated them in the
cathedral church of London, with the help of four of his suffragans,
three of whom, Thomas of York, Maurice of London, and Gundulf of
Rochester, had in different ways a special interest in the ceremony.
The fourth was Herbert, described as of Thetford or Norwich. It was in
the course of this year that he began his great work in his last-named
see.[1484]
[Sidenote: Anselm consecrates Irish bishops.]
This year too Anselm was able to show that his style of Patriarch of
all the nations beyond the sea was not an empty title. It was now that
he consecrated two bishops to sees in Ireland, Samuel of Dublin and
Malchus of Waterford. They were both Irish by birth, but monks of
English monasteries, Samuel of Saint Alban’s, Malchus of Winchester.
They came with letters from the clergy and people of their sees, and
from King Murtagh or Murchard, of whom we shall hear again, and who
takes to himself the sounding title of King of Ireland. Both
were consecrated by Anselm, Samuel at Winchester, Malchus at
Canterbury.[1485] It was no new claim; two predecessors of Samuel had
already been consecrated by Lanfranc.
§ 6. _The Crusade and the Mortgage of Normandy. November, 1095-March,
1097._
[Sidenote: Council of Piacenza. March 7, 1095.]
[Sidenote: Appeal of the Emperor Alexios.]
[Sidenote: Council of Clermont. November 18, 1095.]
[Sidenote: The first Crusade.]
[Sidenote: Bearing of the crusade on our story.]
[Sidenote: No king engaged in the first crusade.]
[Sidenote: The crusades a Latin movement.]
[Sidenote: Name of _Franks_.]
[Sidenote: Share of Normandy and Flanders.]
[Sidenote: Place chosen for the council.]
We must now for a while again turn our eyes to Normandy, but to
Normandy mainly as affected by the most stirring scenes in the history
of the world. We have seen Urban at Piacenza; we have heard him there
make his appeal to Western Christendom on behalf of the oppressed
churches and nations of the East. Their cry came up then, as it has
come up in our own ears; and it was answered in those days as one only
among Christian nations has been found to answer it in ours. In those
days the bulwark and queen of the Eastern lands still stood untouched.
The New Rome had not then to be won back for Christendom; it had
simply to be preserved. By the prince who still kept on the unbroken
succession of Constantine and Diocletian and Augustus the appeal was
made which stirred the hearts of nations as the heart of one man. The
letters of Alexios had been read at Piacenza; the great call from the
mouth of the Western Pontiff was made in the ears of a vaster
multitude still in the memorable assembly of Clermont. But the tale of
the first Crusade needs not to be told here. The writers of the time
were naturally called away from what might seem the smaller affairs of
their own lands to tell of the great struggle of two worlds. Some of
the fullest accounts of the gathering and march of the crusaders are
to be found in the writings to which we are in the habit of turning in
every page for the history of England and Normandy.[1486] Our native
Chronicler can spare only a few words, but those are most pithy words,
to set forth the great stirring of the nations.[1487] And in our
present tale the holy war directly comes home to us, chiefly because
so many men whom we have already heard of took a part in it. Above
all, it places two of our chief actors before us in parts eminently
characteristic of the two. We see how Duke Robert of Normandy went
forth to show himself among the foremost and the worthiest in the
struggle, and how King William of England took occasion of his
brother’s zeal to gain his duchy by money wrung from English
households and English churches. I have noticed elsewhere,[1488] as
has been often noticed before, that the work of the first crusade was
strictly the work of the nations, and of princes of the second rank.
Dukes and counts there were many in the crusading army, but no king of
the West joined in its march. The Western Emperor was at open war with
the Pope who preached the crusade. The kings of Spain had their own
crusade to wage. The kings of England and France were of all men in
their kingdoms the least likely to join in the enterprise. The
kingdoms of the North were as yet hardly stirred by the voice of
Urban. It is indeed plain that the whole movement was primarily a
Latin movement. It is with a true instinct that the people of the East
have from those days onward given the name of _Franks_ to all the
Christians of the West. It is a curious speculation, and one at which
I have already hinted elsewhere, what would have been the share of
England in the crusades, if there had been no Norman Conquest.[1489]
As it was, the part of the Teutonic nations in the crusades is
undoubtedly secondary to that of the Latin nations. Germany takes no
leading part till a later stage; Scandinavia takes no leading part at
all; England is brought into the scene as an appendage to Normandy.
The English crusaders served under the banner of the Norman
Duke.[1490] Among the secondary powers Flanders indeed appears among
the foremost; but Flanders, a fief of the crown of Paris, was, as a
power, though not as a people, more Latin than Teutonic. The elder
Count Robert had won the honour of forestalling the crusade by sending
help to the Eastern Emperor on his own account.[1491] It was fittingly
in a Latin city, in a Gaulish city, that Urban, himself by birth a
Frenchman in the stricter sense,[1492] called the nations of the West
to arms. But it was equally fitting that it should not be within the
immediate dominion of a king who had no heart for the enterprise, of a
king whose own moral offences it was one of the duties of the Pontiff
and his council to denounce. Not in the dominions of any king, not in
the dominions of any of the great dukes and counts who were in power
on a level with kings, but in the land of the lowlier counts, not as
yet dauphins, of Auvergne, the assembly met whose acts were to lead to
the winning back of the Holy City for Christendom, but with which we
are more directly concerned as causing William the Red to reign at
Rouen as well as at Winchester.
[Sidenote: Decrees of the council.]
[Sidenote: Lay investiture forbidden.]
[Sidenote: Sentences against Clement and the Emperor; against Philip
and Bertrada.]
[Sidenote: Urban preaches the crusades; his geography.]
The preaching of the crusade was not the only business of the great
assembly at Clermont. A crowd of canons of the usual kind were passed
against the usual abuses. Those abuses were not confined to England
and Normandy. We are told that in all the lands on our side of the
Alps――and we may venture to doubt whether things were likely to be
much better on the other side――simony prevailed among all classes of
the clergy, while the laity had taken to put away their wives and to
take to themselves the wives of other men.[1493] The great example of
this last fault was certainly King Philip of France, whose marriage or
pretended marriage with Bertrada of Montfort, the wife of Count Fulk
of Anjou, was one of the subjects of discussion at the council. All
abuses of all these kinds were again denounced, as they had often been
denounced before, and were often to be denounced again. But what
concerns us more immediately is the decree that no bishop, abbot, or
clerk of any rank, should receive any ecclesiastical benefice from the
hand of any prince or other layman.[1494] This struck straight at the
ancient use both of England and of Normandy. It forbad what Gregory
the Seventh had, if not allowed, at least winked at, during his whole
reign, in the case of the common sovereign of those two lands.[1495]
This decree, we cannot doubt, had an important bearing on the future
position of Anselm. Wibert, calling himself Clement, was of course
excommunicated afresh, along with the Emperor as his supporter. So
were the King of the French and his pretended queen, for their
adulterous marriage. So were all who should call them King and Queen
or Lord and Lady, or should so much as speak to either of them for any
other purpose except to rebuke their offences.[1496] The thunders of
the Church could have found only one more fitting object than the
reformation of this great moral scandal. But we see to what a height
ecclesiastical claims had grown, when the council took on itself to
declare the offenders deprived of their royal dignity and their feudal
rights. Then followed the great discourse which called men to the Holy
War. Urban told how, of the three parts of the world, the infidels had
rent away two from Christendom; how Asia and Africa were theirs――a
saying wholly true of Africa, and which, when the Turk held Nikaia,
seemed even more true of Asia than it really was. Europe alone was
left, our little portion. Of that, Spain had been lost――the Almoravids
had come in since our last glimpse of Spanish matters[1497]――while
most of the northern parts of Europe itself were still shrouded in
heathen darkness. It needs some little effort to remember how true to
the letter Urban’s religious geography was. The south-western
peninsula was then, what the south-eastern is now, the land of
Christian nations slowly winning back their own from infidel masters.
And, before Swedish kings had crossed the Baltic, before
Sword-brothers and Teutonic knights had arisen, before Russia had made
her way northward, southward, and eastward, all north-eastern Europe
was still heathen, while Scandinavia, Poland, and Hungary, were still
recent conquests for the faith. Into the central strip of Christian
land which lay between the heathen of the north and the Turks and
Saracens of the south, east, and west, the enemy was now ready to
cross. Urban called on his hearers to go forth and stop the way; and
not a few of the men whose names have been famous, some whose names
have been infamous, in our own story were among the foremost to go
forth on the holy errand to which the voice of the Pontiff called
them.
[Sidenote: French and other crusaders.]
[Sidenote: 1096.]
[Sidenote: Hugh brother of King Philip.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Meulan marries his daughter.]
[Sidenote: Robert of Flanders and Stephen of Chartres.]
[Sidenote: The brothers from Boulogne;]
[Sidenote: Eustace,]
[Sidenote: Baldwin,]
[Sidenote: Godfrey of Lorraine.]
[Sidenote: Norman crusaders.]
[Sidenote: Ralph of Wader.]
Those among the recorded crusaders whose names come more immediately
home to Englishmen did not join the holy war till a later time. But
not a few names which have been long familiar to us are to be found in
the list of those who joined in the first regular expedition which set
forth in the course of the year which followed the assembly at
Clermont. Beyond the bounds of England and Normandy we may mark the
names of Hugh surnamed the Great, the brother of King Philip, Count of
Vermandois, Count of Valois in succession to the holy Simon,[1498] but
who appears in our chief list of crusaders by the lowlier title of the
Count of Crêpy. He went to the work, leaving his fiefs to his sons.
His daughter Isabel or Elizabeth he gave in marriage to Count Robert
of Meulan, by this time no very youthful bridegroom.[1499] Among
princes of greater power, but of less lofty birth, the foreign allies
of the Norman house were represented by the younger Count Robert of
Flanders, nephew of the Conqueror’s queen, and by Stephen Count of
Chartres and Blois, husband of the Conqueror’s noblest child, and
father of a king of England and of a bishop of an English see more
personally eminent than his royal brother. Rotrou of Mortagne and
Walter of Saint Valery went from the border lands so closely connected
with Norman history. In Everard of Puiset we hear the name of a house
which was in the next century to become famous in England on the
throne of Saint Cuthberht, the throne at that moment empty and widowed
by the death of William of Saint-Calais. And from a house most hateful
to England, but which had received no small share of the spoils of
England, went forth three brethren, one of whom was to show himself
the worthiest, and to be placed the highest, in the crusading host.
Eustace of Boulogne, a prince beyond the sea but in England lord
of lands scattered from Mendip to the Kentish and East-Saxon
shores,[1500] marched with his two brothers, both of whom were to
reign as kings in the Holy City. The part of Baldwin in the enterprise
had been already foreshadowed in visions told in the hall of
Conches.[1501] Visions were hardly needed to foretell the greatness of
Godfrey of Lorraine, who had won his duchy as the prize of faithful
service to the Emperor, but who was none the less ready to discharge
the duties of a higher allegiance at the bidding of the Pontiff. From
Normandy itself went, among a crowd of others, some of that younger
generation which is beginning to supply the chief actors in our tale.
Philip, the son of the lately deceased Roger of Montgomery, Ivo and
Alberic the sons of the lately deceased Hugh of Grantmesnil,[1502] all
went forth; so did Gerard of Gournay and his wife Eadgyth, he to die,
she to come back for another marriage.[1503] And with them went
another married pair whose names carry us back to earlier times. The
double traitor, Ralph of Wader, traitor to England, traitor to
William, went forth with his valiant Emma, to do something to wipe out
his old crimes by good service beneath the walls of Nikaia, and to
leave his bones and hers in lands where his memory was not a memory of
shame.[1504]
[Sidenote: Duke Robert.]
[Sidenote: His need of money.]
[Sidenote: He is driven to apply to William.]
[Sidenote: Position of William.]
We may be sure that among the crowd of men of every rank who were
stirred by the voice of Urban none took up the cross with a more
single mind than the Duke of the Normans. It was an appeal which spoke
at once to the better side of him, an appeal which took him away from
that land of his birth and dominion which was to him a land of such
utter failure. As a son and a ruler, he had much to repent of; as a
warrior, a worthy object of warfare was for the first time opened to
him. But how was he to go, at least how was he to go as became the
prince of a duchy which under other princes had been so great? His
hoard was empty; half his barons were in practical rebellion; his
brothers held no small part of his duchy. He had no resource but one,
to seek help, at whatever cost, from the brother who could command the
wealth of England, even though the price should be nothing short of
yielding the whole of Normandy to him who already held a part. It is
needless to say that King William of England had no thought of going
on the crusade himself. He was not indeed hindered, as the Emperor and
the King of the French were hindered, by actually lying under the
censures of the Church. But he was as little likely as either of them
to gird on his sword in the great quarrel. The voice which stirred the
heart of Robert to the quick found no kindred chord to strike on in
the mocking soul of Rufus. The enemy of God felt no call to march in
the cause of God. He was not likely to spend his treasures or to
display his chivalry in warfare which could not bring him any direct
increase of wealth or power. It was rather for him to stay at home,
and to reap what he could in the way of either wealth or power at the
cost of those whose madness led them on errands which could bring in
neither. Palestine was far away and hard to win. Normandy, so much as
was left of Normandy, so much as was not already his own, was near and
was easy to win with his own special arms. William Rufus was not at
all likely to turn aside from any offer of the kind which Robert might
make to him.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Mission of Abbot Jeronto.]
[Sidenote: Jeronto rebukes William.]
[Sidenote: The Pope sends his nephew. Easter, April 13, 1096.]
The brothers were however at war, and the services of a mediator were
needed to open negotiations between them. The Pope becomingly
undertook the office, and sent a prelate from the more distant parts
of Gaul, Jeronto, Abbot of Saint Benignus at Dijon, to make peace
between the King and the Duke. We are told that Walter of Albano’s
greediness and subserviency to the King had brought the name of
Legate, and of Rome itself, into discredit. Jeronto was therefore
trusted with a commission to make an appeal to William, such as Walter
had clearly never made, about the evils which were allowed to go on
under his government.[1505] Of the two branches of this commission one
prospered better than the other. At first, we are told, the Abbot’s
righteous boldness and plainness of speech seemed to have made an
effect on the King, while it raised general hopes of reform among the
nation.[1506] But the King or his counsellors knew how to deal, if not
with Abbot Jeronto, at least with those in greater authority. He had,
so the story runs, sent a messenger of his own to the Pope――most
likely during his sojourn in northern Gaul, of which we shall hear
again――carrying with him the weighty argument of ten marks of the
purest gold.[1507] Trusting to this means of gaining his end, the King
kept the Abbot of Dijon with him, till the Easter of the next year. By
that time the King’s messenger came back, bringing with him a
commissioner from the Pope, a layman, the sister’s son of Urban, by
whose word of mouth it would seem the Abbot’s commission was cancelled
and all questions were adjourned till the next Christmas.[1508] When
the next Christmas came, the King was not in England, to attend to
ecclesiastical reform or to anything else.
[Sidenote: Peace between Robert and William.]
[Sidenote: Normandy pledged to William. 1096.]
The other object for which Jeronto came to England was fully carried
out, whether Jeronto himself had any real hand in bringing it about or
not. Peace was made between the Duke of the Normans and the King of
the English. In order that Robert might have money to go to the
crusade, the duchy of Normandy was pledged to his brother for a sum of
ten thousand marks. The transaction was not a cession or a sale; it
was a mere pledge. The duchy was to pass to William merely for a
season, for three years, or for so long a time as Robert should be
away. If the Duke should come back, and should find himself able to
pay the money, the duchy was to be his again.[1509] Still William’s
possession seemed likely to be a lasting one. There seemed but small
chance of Robert’s ever coming back, and smaller still of his coming
back with ten thousand marks to spare out of the spoils of the
infidels. If he ever did come so laden, William Rufus doubtless
trusted that, by some means either of force or of fraud, his brother’s
restoration to his duchy might be either evaded or withstood.
[Sidenote: The price not large.]
[Sidenote: Heavy taxation to raise the money.]
[Sidenote: Whitsun Assembly, 1096.]
[Sidenote: Extortion of the benevolence.]
[Sidenote: Oppression of tenants.]
[Sidenote: Protest of the prelates.]
[Sidenote: Comparison of the prelates and the lay lords.]
[Sidenote: Plunder of the churches.]
The price for which Normandy was thus handed over does not, when
compared with other payments of the time, seem a large one. It was not
very much higher than the sums which Herbert Losinga was said to have
paid for a bishopric for himself and an abbey for his father.[1510]
The price to be paid for at least a three years’ possession of all
Normandy was not much more than three times the sum which courtiers at
least had looked on as a reasonable contribution for an Archbishop of
Canterbury to make towards a single Norman expedition.[1511] Yet the
sum which was now to be paid is spoken of as a drain upon the whole
kingdom. Rufus had no thought of paying the money out of any rightful
revenues of the crown or out of any stores which he had already wrung
from his people. Something was to be wrung from them yet again for the
special object of the moment. The time would seem to have been the
summer of the year which followed the gathering at Clermont, the year
which in England began with the death of Bishop William of Durham and
the frightful punishment of Count William of Eu. The matter may have
been discussed at the Whitsun Assembly of that year, of which we have
no record. At any rate a heavy tax was laid on the whole kingdom; we
may be sure that the Red King took the occasion to wring more out of
the land than the actual sum which he had to pay to his brother.
Otherwise, except on the view that everything had been taken already,
the payment of a sum less than seven thousand pounds could hardly have
weighed on the whole kingdom as this benevolence is said to have
weighed. For a benevolence it was, at least in form; men were invited
to give or to lend; but we gather that some more stringent means was
found for those who failed to give or to lend willingly.[1512] The
English Chronicler sends up his wail for the heavy time that it was by
reason of the manifold gelds, and he tells us how, as so often
happened, hunger followed in the wake of the extortioner.[1513] Other
writers describe the King as demanding loans and gifts from his
prelates, earls, and other great men. The great lay lords, we are
told, raised their share by the plunder of the knights who held fiefs
of them and of the churls who tilled their demesne lands.[1514] It is
the cry of these last that we hear through the voice of the
Chronicler. The bishops and abbots are said to have made a protest, a
thing which almost passes belief on the part of the bishops of the Red
King’s day. When called on for their shares, they are said to have
answered, in the spirit, or at least in the words, of Ælfheah, that
they could not raise the money by any means save the oppression of the
wretched tillers of the earth.[1515] Judged by the conduct of the two
classes at Rockingham, the prelates and the lay barons seem to have
changed places. It is the churchmen now who have the conscientious
scruple. Yet the difference is not wonderful. The barons were used to
general havoc and violence of every kind; what they scrupled at was
the deliberate perversion of formal justice to crush a single man who
claimed their reverence on every ground, official and personal. The
prelates, on the other hand, might be ready for any amount of cringing
and cowardice, and might yet shrink from being made the agents of
direct oppression in their own persons. Anyhow another means of
payment was suggested by the cunning agents of the impious King. It
may have been the future Bishop of Durham who answered, “Have ye not
chests full of the bones of dead men, but wrought about with gold and
silver?”[1516] In this strait the churchmen took the sacrilegious
hint. The most sacred objects were not spared; books of the gospels,
shrines, crucifixes, were spoiled of their precious ornaments,
chalices were melted down, all the gifts of the bounty of the old time
were seized on, not to relieve the poor, but to fill the coffers of
the King with the money that was needed for his ambitious
schemes.[1517]
[Sidenote: Contribution of Anselm.]
[Sidenote: He mortgages the manor of Peckham to his monks.]
In all this we have learned to suspect some exaggeration; extreme
measures taken at some particular places must have been spoken of as
if they had been universal throughout the land. In one case, and that
the case of the highest personal interest, we get the details, and
they are a good deal less frightful than the general picture. Among
the other great men of the land, the Archbishop of Canterbury was
called on for his contribution. His friends advised compliance with
the request, and he himself did not complain of it as unreasonable.[1518]
But Anselm had no great store of money in hand. He consulted the
Bishops of Winchester and Rochester, Walkelin and Gundulf, and by
their advice he borrowed a sum of money from the hoard of his monks,
who seem to have been better provided than himself. The convent, by a
vote of the majority, agreed to help the Archbishop with a present sum
of two hundred pounds, in return for which Anselm made over to them
for seven years his manor of Peckham, which brought in thirty pounds
yearly. The money supplied by the monks, together with what Anselm
could raise himself, made up a sum which seems to have satisfied the
King; at least no complaint or dispute is recorded.[1519]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Conference between William and Robert.]
[Sidenote: Robert sets forth on the Crusade. September, 1096.]
[Sidenote: His companions, Robert, Stephen, and Odo.]
[Sidenote: Conduct of Robert.]
[Sidenote: Robert at Rome.]
[Sidenote: His reception by Roger of Apulia.]
The ten thousand marks were raised and paid. We may well believe that
more than the ten thousand marks were raised; but we may be sure that
not a penny more than his bargain entitled him to found its way into
the hands of Duke Robert. In September the whole business was
finished. King William crossed the sea, and met his brother in a
conference held under the mediation of the King of the French, at some
point of the border-land of the Vexin, at Pontoise or at Chaumont,
places of which we shall have to speak again.[1520] The money was paid
to the Duke; the duchy was handed over to the King, and Robert of
Normandy set forth for the holy war. He went in company with his
cousin the Count of Flanders and his brother-in-law the Count of
Chartres. And with them went a kinsman of an elder generation, whose
long history, though not specially long life, is now drawing to an
end. Bishop Odo of Bayeux could not bear to stay in Normandy again to
become a subject of the nephew to whom he had surrendered himself at
Rochester.[1521] He joined the forces of his elder nephew, and with
him went the eloquent Bishop of Evreux, Gilbert, who had preached the
funeral sermon of the Conqueror.[5122] The Duke on his armed
pilgrimage showed new powers. He could now, often but not always,
overcome his love of idleness and pleasure, and whenever the moment of
real danger came, he was ever foremost, not only in the mere daring of
the soldier, but in the skill and counsel of the commander.[1523]
Another hand has traced his course with all vividness, but with less
sympathy than one could have wished for the general objects of the
holy war.[1524] A few points in Robert’s eastern career are all that
need now be touched on. He and his companions passed by Lucca, and
there received the blessing of the orthodox Pope Urban.[1525] They
went on to what should have been Urban’s see, and found how truly the
English Chronicler spoke when he said that Urban nothing had of the
settle at Rome. When they went to pay their devotions in the basilica
of Saint Peter, they met with much such entertainment from the
followers of the schismatic Clement as the monks of Glastonbury had
met with from their abbot Thurstan.[1526] They reached southern Italy,
now a duchy of the house of Hauteville, and the reigning Duke Roger,
son of the renowned Wiscard, is said to have welcomed his natural lord
in the head of the ducal house of his ancestral land.[1527]
[Sidenote: Siege of Amalfi.]
[Sidenote: Bohemond takes the cross.]
[Sidenote: The crusaders winter in Apulia. 1096-1097.]
[Sidenote: Odo dies at Palermo. February, 1097.]
At the time of their coming, Duke Roger, his uncle Count Roger of
Sicily, who had won back a realm for Christendom, and his brother
Bohemond――Mark Bohemond we find him accurately called[1528]――were
warring against the famous merchant town of Amalfi,[1529] rebellious
in their eyes against the Norman Duke, in its own eyes loyal to the
Eastern Emperor. At the coming of the crusaders Bohemond took the
cross, and rent up a goodly cloak into crosses for his followers.[1530]
Count Roger was left almost alone to besiege Amalfi, and he went back
to his own island. Yet, after this outburst of pious zeal, those who
were highest in rank among the warriors of the cross tarried to spend
a merry winter in that pleasant land, while many of the lower sort,
already weary of the work, turned aside and went back to their
homes.[1531] The Norman prelates, from whatever motives, crossed to
the great island of the Mediterranean, a trophy of Norman victory only
second to the yet greater island of the Ocean. There, under the rule
of the Great Count of Sicily, the whilom Earl of Kent might see how
conquerors of his own blood could deal with the men of conquered lands
after another sort from that in which he had dealt with the men of his
English earldom. There, in the happy city of the threefold
speech,[1532] the Bishop of Bayeux might mark, in the great temple of
Palermo, once church, then mosque, and now church once more, those
forms of art of the Greek and the Saracen, which had lost in grace, if
they had gained in strength, in taking the shapes which he had himself
followed in his great work in his own Saxon city. There the Earl and
Bishop at last ended a career of which Kent and Bayeux could tell so
different a tale. Gilbert of Evreux discharged the last corporal work
of mercy for his fiercer brother; and the tomb of Odo of Bayeux arose
within the walls of the great church of Palermo, soon to boast itself
the head of the Sicilian realm.[1533] And, after all the changes of
later days, amid the small remains which the barbarians of the
_Renaissance_ have left us of the church of English Walter, we may,
even beside the tomb of the Wonder of the World, stop for a moment to
remember that the brother of our Conqueror, the scourge of our land,
found his last resting-place so far away alike from Bayeux, from
Senlac, and from Rochester.
[Sidenote: Duke Robert crosses to Dyrrhachion.]
[Sidenote: Use of the Bulgarian name.]
[Sidenote: Robert does homage to Alexios.]
[Sidenote: Robert at Laodikeia.]
[Sidenote: Hugh of Jaugy joins the crusades.]
[Sidenote: The “rope-dancers” at Antioch.]
[Sidenote: Robert said to have refused the crown of Jerusalem.]
[Sidenote: His return.]
The Bishop went no further than Palermo; the Duke went on by the
course which the warfare of the Apulian Normans had lately made
familiar. They entered the Eastern world at Dyrrhachion, where the
valour of Normans and Englishmen had been lately proved.[1534] They
passed, in the geography of our authors, through Bulgaria;[1535] that
is, they passed through those Illyrian and Macedonian lands where the
rule of Byzantium had again displaced the rule of Ochrida, but to
which the name of the people whom Samuel had made terrible still
clave, as in the language of fact, though not of diplomacy, it cleaves
still. They reached Thessalonica, they reached Constantinople, and
wondered at the glories of the New Rome.[1536] There, as in duty
bound, they pledged their faith to the truest heir of the Roman
majesty, whose lost lands they were to win back from the misbelievers.
Before the throne of Alexios Robert the Norman knelt; he placed his
hands between the Imperial hands, and arose the sworn liegeman of
Augustus.[1537] The homage of Harold to Robert’s father was not more
binding than the homage of Robert to Alexios; but an English earl and
a Norman crusader were measured in those days by different standards.
The host passed on; at Nikaia, at Antioch, at Jerusalem, Robert was
ever foremost in fight and in council. Yet the old spirit was not
wholly cast out. When the English Warangians at Laodikeia hailed their
joint leaders in the son of their Conqueror and in the heir of their
ancient kings,[1538] the pleasures of Asia, like the pleasures of
Apulia, were too much for the Duke, and it needed the anathemas of the
Church to call him back from his luxurious holiday to the stern work
that was before him.[1539] Before the walls of Jerusalem he found a
strange ally. Hugh of Jaugy, one of the murderers of Mabel, after his
long sojourn among the infidels, greeted his natural prince, returned
to his allegiance, and by his knowledge of the tongue and ways of
those whom he forsook, did useful, if not honourable, service.[1540] A
worthier comrade was a noble and valiant Turk, who of his own accord
came to seek for baptism and for admission to share the perils of the
pilgrims.[1541] The Norman Duke ever appears as the fellow-soldier of
his kinsman and namesake of Flanders; the two Roberts are always side
by side. It is needless to say that neither of them shared in that
shameful descent from the walls of Antioch which gained for some of
the heroes of Normandy the mocking surname of the _rope-dancers_.[1542]
It is hard to find any absolutely contemporary authority for the
statement which was very soon afloat, that the crown of Jerusalem was
offered to Robert and was refused by him.[1543] Robert could not have
been as Godfrey; but we can believe that his career would have been
more honourable in a Syrian than in a Norman dominion. He was at least
one of the first to stand on the rescued walls of the Holy City;[1544]
and in the fight for the newly-won realm against the Fatimite Caliph,
it was not merely by cutting down the Saracen standard-bearer with his
own hand, but by a display of really skilful tactics, that Robert did
much to win the day for Christendom.[1545] He then turned his face
towards Constantinople and towards Apulia, and we shall meet him again
in his own land.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: William takes possession of Normandy.]
[Sidenote: Grants to Henry.]
As soon as Robert had set forth for Jerusalem, William took possession
of the duchy of Normandy――in modern phrase, he took upon him its
administration――without opposition from any side. There was indeed no
side, except the side of mere anarchy, from which opposition could
come. It was perhaps a little humiliating for a great duchy to be
handed over from one prince to another by a personal bargain, like a
house or a field. But there was no practical ground for opposing
William’s entry. All classes, save mere robbers, lordly or vulgar,
must have had enough of Robert. And now Robert was gone, and in going,
he had handed them over to the prince for whom many of them had fought
or intrigued, and who already held some of the most important points
of the country. Whether it was good or bad for England and Normandy to
have the same ruler, it was clearly a gain for all Normandy to have
only one ruler. In one sense indeed this object was not even now
attained. William’s first step was to dismember the duchy which he had
bought. Henry, it will be remembered, had been left in Normandy a year
and a half before, and had been, perhaps ever since, acting in
William’s interests against Robert. He now received the reward of his
services in a noble fief indeed. He became again acknowledged Count of
the whole Côtentin. And to his peninsular dominion he was allowed to
add the whole Bessin, except the city of Bayeux and the castle and
town of Caen.[1546] The spot which contained the foundations of his
parents, the tombs of his parents, William Rufus could not bring
himself to give up, even to reward the faithful service of a brother.
[Sidenote: Rule of William in Normandy.]
[Sidenote: Synod of Rouen. 1096.]
[Sidenote: Truce of God confirmed.]
[Sidenote: Other decrees.]
[Sidenote: The days of King William.]
But for Henry, in full friendship with his brother, to hold a corner
of Normandy as a fief of his brother was a partition of Normandy of
quite another kind from such a partition as had been when William, as
Robert’s enemy, hemmed in Robert in his capital. There can be no doubt
that the exchange from Robert to William was an unspeakable gain to
the duchy. During the remainder of the life of Rufus Normandy had a
stern master; but, after the anarchy of Robert, what the land most
needed was a master of almost any kind. The kind of work which was
needed is shown in the acts of a synod which had been gathered at
Rouen by Archbishop William, while Robert still nominally ruled,
almost immediately after the greater gathering at Clermont. Three
Norman bishops had been at Clermont in person, Odo of Bayeux, Gilbert
of Evreux, and Serlo of Seez. They brought back the decrees of the
council to their brethren, who forthwith assembled to accept and
enforce in their own province all that had been ordered at Clermont
for the Church and the world in general. They confirmed the Truce of
God[1547] with all its enactments on behalf of the more useful and
helpless members of society. They drew up an oath to be taken under
pain of anathema by all men, which bound them to observe the Truce in
their own persons, and to give the help of the temporal arm to the
efforts of the ecclesiastical powers against those who should break
it.[1548] In those days at least peace could be had only through war,
and the Truce of God itself became the occasion of more fighting
against those who scorned its wholesome checks. Other anathemas were
pronounced against robbers, false moneyers, and buyers of stolen
goods, against those who gathered themselves together in castles for
purposes of plunder, and against the lords who sheltered such men in
their castles. Such castles were put under an interdict; no Christian
rite might be done in them.[1549] In going on to pronounce further
anathemas against the invaders of ecclesiastical rights, against the
unlawful occupiers of Church lands, against laymen who claimed to have
a right in tithes and other Church dues,[1550] the synod uses a
formula which shows how keenly Normandy felt the difference between
the great William and his eldest son. What the days of the Confessor
were in England, the days of the Conqueror were in his own duchy. The
synod decreed that all churches should enjoy their goods and customs
as they had been in the time of King William, and that no burthens
should be laid upon them but such as King William had allowed.[1551]
[Sidenote: Small results of the synod.]
[Sidenote: William’s rule in Normandy.]
[Sidenote: His appointments to prelacies.]
[Sidenote: Tancard Abbot of Jumièges. 1096-1101.]
[Sidenote: Etard Abbot of Saint Peter’s. 1096-1107.]
[Sidenote: February, 1098.]
[Sidenote: Turold Bishop of Bayeux. 1098-1195.]
It would be too much to think that William the Red at once brought
back the Norman duchy to the state in which it had been in those
golden days of William the Great. And it is still less needful to stop
to prove that even the days of William the Great would not have seemed
golden days as compared with the state of any well-governed land in
our own time. But there can be no doubt that the coming of the new
ruler wrought a real reform. And a reform was grievously needed. We
read that very little came of the well-intentioned decrees of the
synod. The bishops, Odo among them, did what they could――it is Odo’s
last recorded act in the lands with which we have to deal, and it is
something that he leaves us in the shape of a reformer and not in that
of an oppressor. But very little came of the efforts of the prelates.
The Duke did nothing to help them――his mind was perhaps too full of
the crusade――and things were at the moment of William’s coming in
almost greater confusion than ever.[1552] He at least gave the land
the advantage of a strong rule; he kept the luxury of oppression to
himself. The lesser scourges of mankind were thoroughly put down. We
hear no more of that private warfare which had torn the land in pieces
in the days of Robert. William recalled many of the lavish grants of
Robert; what his father had held, he would hold.[1553] Even in
ecclesiastical matters Rufus is not painted in such dark colours in
Normandy as he is in England. He is not charged with keeping
ecclesiastical benefices vacant in order that he might enjoy their
revenues. He found two great abbeys vacant, those of Jumièges and
Saint Peter-on-Dives; and he at once supplied them with abbots. They
were abbots of his own choosing, but it is not said that they bought
their places.[1554] Tancard, the new abbot of Jumièges, may lie under
some suspicion, as a few years after he was deposed on account of a
shameful quarrel with his monks.[1555] Saint Peter’s was vacant, not
by the death, but by the deposition and banishment――unjust we are
told――of its abbot Fulk. William appointed a monk of Jumièges called
Etard or Walter, who ruled well, we are told, for eleven years, till
Fulk came back with letters from the Pope, on which his successor
cheerfully made way for him again.[1556] No Norman bishopric was
vacant at the time of William’s entry, nor did any become vacant for
more than a year. Then in the midst of events which are to be told
hereafter, the news came that the throne of Bayeux was vacant by the
death of Odo far away at Palermo. William at once bestowed the staff
on Turold the brother of Hugh of Evermouth, seemingly the same Hugh
who figures in the legend of Hereward as his son-in-law and
successor.[1557] This prelate sat for seven years, and then, for
reasons of his own, gave up his see, and became a monk at Bec.[1558]
§ 7. _The Last Dispute between William and Anselm. 1097._
[Sidenote: Christmas, 1096-1097.]
[Sidenote: State of Wales at the end of 1096.]
[Sidenote: Easter, April 5, 1097.]
[Sidenote: William comes to England.]
[Sidenote: Assembly of Windsor.]
[Sidenote: Seeming conquest of Wales.]
[Sidenote: Good hopes for the future.]
[Sidenote: William complains of Anselm’s contingent to the Welsh war.]
[Sidenote: Estimate of the complaint.]
[Sidenote: Position of the Archbishop’s knights.]
[Sidenote: Anselm summoned to the King’s court.]
The year which followed William’s acquisition of Normandy was a busy
year in many ways. The King passed the winter in the duchy; the
greater part of the year he spent in England. He was largely occupied
with the affairs of Wales and Scotland, and in this year came the last
dispute between the King and the Archbishop, and the first departure
of Anselm from England. Since their reconciliation at Windsor two
years before, there had been no open breach between them. The first
difference arose out of the events of the Welsh war. At the end of the
year which saw William master of Normandy, he seemed to have wholly
lost his hold on Wales. Except Glamorgan and the one isolated castle
of Pembroke, the Britons seemed to have won back their whole
land.[1559] The affairs of Wales brought the King back from Normandy,
and he designed to hold the Easter Gemót in its usual place at
Winchester. Stress of weather however hindered him from reaching
England in time for the festival. He landed at Arundel on Easter eve,
and thence went to Windsor, where the Assembly was therefore held,
somewhat later than the usual time.[1560] The meeting was followed by
a great expedition into Wales, and by a submission of the country
which events a few months later proved to be very nominal
indeed.[1561] But there was at last an apparent success. William
seemed to be greater than ever; he had, by whatever means, won
Normandy and recovered Wales. And, more than this, the beginnings of
his Norman government had been good; he had thus far shown himself a
better nursing-father of the Church in his duchy than his brother
Robert had done. A hope therefore arose in many minds that the days of
victory and peace might be days of reformed government in England
also, and that King and Primate might be able to join in some great
measure for the improvement of discipline and manners.[1562] In this
hope they were disappointed, as they were likely to be, especially if
they reckoned on any long time of peace with the Britons. But the
first renewed breach between the King and the Archbishop arose from
quite a new cause. When the King came back from the Welsh war, he sent
a letter to Anselm, angrily complaining of the nature of the
Archbishop’s military contingent to his army. The knights whom Anselm
had sent had been so badly equipped and so useless in war that he owed
him no thanks for them but rather the contrary.[1563] This story is
commonly told as if Anselm had been the colonel of a regiment whose
men were, through his fault, utterly unfit for service. Anselm had
indeed, as we have seen, once held somewhat of a warlike command, but
it had been of a passive kind; he was certainly not expected to go to
the Welsh war himself. In truth the complaint is against knights;
doubtless, if the knights were bad, their followers would be worse;
but it is of knights that the King speaks. If I rightly understand the
relation between the Archbishop and his military tenants, these
knights were men who held lands of the archbishopric by the tenure of
discharging all the military service to which the whole estates of the
archbishopric were bound.[1564] It was doubtless the business of their
lord to see that the service was paid, that the proper number of
knights, each with his proper number of followers, went to the royal
standard. But one can hardly think that it was part of the
Archbishop’s business to look into every military detail, as if he had
been their commanding officer. It was not Anselm’s business to find
their arms and accoutrements; they held their lands by the tenure of
finding such things for themselves. The King was dissatisfied with the
archiepiscopal contingent, and, from his point of view, most likely
not without reason. Anselm’s troops might be expected to be among the
least serviceable parts of the army. Gentlemen and yeomen of Kent――we
may begin to use those familiar names――could have had no great
experience of warfare; there were no private wars to keep their hands
in practice; they could not be so well fitted for war in general or
specially for Welsh war, either as the picked mercenaries of the King
or as the tried followers of the Earl of Chester and the Lord of
Glamorgan. William, as a military commander, might naturally be
annoyed at the poor figure cut by the Archbishop’s knights; but there
is every reason to think that, in point of law, his complaint against
the Archbishop was unjust. It seems to be shown to be so by the fact
that the charge which the King brought against Anselm on this account
was one which in the end he found it better to drop. But he now bade
Anselm to be ready to _do right_ to him, according to the judgement of
his court, whenever he should think fit to summon him for that
end.[1565]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s distress.]
[Sidenote: His weariness of England.]
[Sidenote: Change in Anselm’s feelings.]
[Sidenote: His yearnings towards Rome.]
[Sidenote: Personal position of Urban.]
[Sidenote: Ideal aspect of Rome.]
Anselm seems to have been thoroughly disheartened by this fresh blow.
And yet it was no more than what he had been looking for. Over and
over again he had said that between him and William there could be no
lasting peace, that under such a king as William there could be no
real reform.[1566] And the new grievance was a personal one; whether
the charge was right or wrong, it had nothing to do with the interests
of the Church or with good morals; it simply touched his relations to
the King as his temporal lord. Since the meeting at Windsor two years
before, though William had given Anselm no kind of help in his plans,
he does not seem to have openly thwarted them, except, as seems
implied throughout, by still refusing his leave for the holding of a
synod. At the same time there had been quite enough to make Anselm
thoroughly weary of England and her King and of everything to do with
her. And the visits of the Cardinal of Albano and the Abbot of Saint
Benignus had done Anselm no good. From this time we mark the beginning
of a certain change in him which, without in any way morally blaming
him, we must call a change for the worse. Left to himself, he seems
not to have had the faintest scruple as to the customs which were
established alike in England and in Normandy. He was unwilling to
accept the metropolitan office at all; but he made no objection to the
particular way of receiving it which was the use of England and of
Normandy. He had, without scruple or protest, received the staff of
Canterbury from the son as he had received the staff of Bec from the
father. His wish to go to Rome to receive the pallium was fully
according to precedent, and it was only the petty captiousness of the
King that turned it into a matter of offence. But the mere talking
about Rome and the Pope which the discussion had led to was not
wholesome; and everything that had since happened had tended to put
Rome and the Pope more and more into Anselm’s head. The coming of the
Legate, the rebukes of the Legate, even the base insinuations of his
undutiful suffragans against the validity of his appointment, would
all help to bring about a certain morbid frame of mind, a craving
after Rome and its Bishop as the one centre of shelter and comfort
among his troubles. The very failure of Walter’s mission, the unworthy
greediness and subserviency into which the Legate had fallen, the
utter break-down of the later mission of Abbot Jeronto, would all tend
the same way. Anselm would hold, not that the Pope was corrupt, but
that none but the Pope in his own person could be trusted. He would
have nothing more to do with his unfaithful agents; he would go
himself to the fountain-head which could not fail him. And he to whom
he would go was not simply the Pope, any Pope; it was Urban the
Second, the reformer, the preacher of the crusade. Since Anselm’s work
had begun, the world had been filled with the personal fame of the
Pontiff in whose cause he had striven. In the same council which had
stirred the common heart of Christendom Urban had denounced those
customs of England to which Anselm had conformed in his own
appointment and which he had promised to defend against all men. The
rules laid down at Clermont against the acceptance of ecclesiastical
benefices from lay hands not only condemned his own appointment, made
before those decrees were issued; it condemned also the consecrations
to the sees of Hereford and Worcester which he had himself performed
since they had been issued. Amid the reign of unlaw, amid the constant
breaches of discipline, the frightful sins against moral right, which
he had daily to behold and which he was kept back from duly censuring,
with none to support him outwardly, none but a few chosen ones to
understand his inward thoughts, it is not wonderful if distant Rome
seemed to him a blessed haven of rest from the troubles and sorrows of
England. Let him flee thither at any cost, and have peace. Let him
seek the counsel of the ghostly superior to whom he looked up in
faith, and to whom he had been so faithful; to him he would open his
soul; from him he would receive guidance, perhaps strength, in a
course which was beset with so many difficulties on all sides. Rome,
seen far away, looked pure and holy; its Pontiff seemed the one
embodiment of right and law, the one shadow of God left upon earth, in
a world of force and falsehood and foulness of life, a world where the
civil sword was left in the hands of kings like William and Philip,
and where an Emperor like Henry still wielded it in defiance of
anathemas. At such a distance he would not see that the policy of
Popes had already learned to be even more worldly and crooked than
that of kings and emperors. He had not learned, what Englishmen had
already learned, that gold was as powerful in the counsels of the Holy
See as ever it was in the closet of the Red King. The Pope’s agents
and messengers might take bribes; the Pope himself, the holy College
around him, would never sink to such shame. The majestic and
attractive side of the Roman system was all that would present itself
to his eyes. He would flee to the blessed shelter and be at peace. He
had had enough of the world of kings and courts, the world where men
of God were called on to send men to fight the battles of this life,
and were called in question if swords were not sharp enough or if
horses were not duly trained and caparisoned. Weary and sick at heart,
he would turn away from such a scene and from its thankless duties; he
would, for a while at least, leave the potsherds of the earth to
strive with the potsherds of the earth; he would go where he might
perhaps win leave to throw aside his burthen, or where, failing that,
he might receive renewed strength to bear it.
[Sidenote: New position taken by Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Aspect of his conduct.]
[Sidenote: Causes of his loss of general support.]
In all this we can thoroughly enter into Anselm’s feelings, nor are we
called upon to pronounce any censure upon either his feelings or his
conduct. But it is plain that he was now taking up a wholly different
position from that which he had taken at Rockingham, a position in
which he could not expect to meet with, and in which he did not meet
with, the same support which he had met with at Rockingham. At
Gillingham and at Rockingham Anselm did nothing which could be fairly
construed as a defiance of the law or an appeal to the Pope against
any lawful authority of the King. All that he did was to ask the
King’s leave to go for the pallium, that is to do what all his
predecessors had done, to obey what might be as fairly called a custom
of the realm as any other. In the discussions which now began, his
conduct would, to say the least, have, in the eyes of any but the most
friendly judges, another look. He was asking leave to go to Rome, not
to discharge an established duty, but, as it might be not unfairly
argued, simply to gratify a caprice of his own. He might rightly ask
for such leave; but it rested with the King’s discretion to grant or
to refuse it, and no formal wrong would be done to him by refusing it.
And to ask leave to go and consult the Pope, not because of any
meddling with his spiritual office, not on account of any religious or
ecclesiastical difficulty, but because the King had threatened him
with a suit, just or unjust, in a purely temporal matter, had very
much the air of appealing from the King’s authority to the Pope. We
must remember throughout that Anselm nowhere makes the claim which Odo
and William of Saint-Calais made before him, which Thomas of London
made after him, to be exempt from temporal jurisdiction on the ground
of his order. As such claims had no foundation in English law, neither
was it at all in the spirit of Anselm to press them. All that he
wanted was to be allowed to seek help in his troubles in the only
quarter where he believed that help might be found. But the petition
for leave to seek it was put in a form and under circumstances which
might well have awakened some distrust, some unwillingness, in minds
far better disposed towards him than that of the Red King. We may not
for a moment doubt the perfect singlemindedness of Anselm, his perfect
righteousness from the point of view of his own conscience. But we
cannot wonder that, in the new controversy, he failed to have the
barons and people of England at his side, as he had had them on the
day of trial at Rockingham and on the day of peace-making at Windsor.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Anselm’s continued demands of reform.]
[Sidenote: He determines not to answer the new summons.]
[Sidenote: Working of the King’s court.]
[Sidenote: He determines on a last effort.]
The belief that the supposed season of peace might be a season of
reform had been shared by Anselm himself. He had more than once urged
the King on the subject; but William had always answered that he was
too busy dealing with his many enemies to think about such
matters.[1567] Such an answer was a mere put-off; yet a more
discouraging one might have been given. Anselm had therefore fully
made up his mind to make the most of this special opportunity, and to
make yet one more urgent appeal to the King to help him in his
work.[1568] And now, at the meeting where he trusted to make this
attempt, he was summoned to appear as defendant on a purely temporal
charge. To that charge he determined to make no answer. But surely the
reason which is given is rather the reason of Eadmer afterwards than
of Anselm at the time. Anselm is made to say that in the King’s court
everything depended on the King’s nod, and that his cause would be
examined in that court, without law, without equity, without
reason.[1569] He had not found it so at Rockingham, nor did he find it
so now. But we can quite understand that, with his mind full of so
much greater matters, he might think it better to let his judges
settle matters as they might, for or against him, in questions as to
horses and weapons and military training. The worst that could happen
would be another payment of money.[1570] Anselm believed that the
charge was a mere pretence, devised simply to hinder him from making
the appeal to the King which he designed.[1571] He therefore made up
his mind to make no answer to the summons, and to let the law, if
there was any law in the matter, take its course.[1572] When he looked
around at the spoliation of the Church, at the evils of all kinds
which had crept in through lack of discipline, he feared the judgement
of God on himself, if he did not make one last effort.[1573] His heart
indeed sank when he saw that, of all the evil that was done, the King
either was himself the doer or took pleasure in them that did it. But
he would strive once more; if his last effort failed, he would appeal
to a higher spiritual power than his own; he would see what the
authority and judgement of the Apostolic See could do.[1574]
[Sidenote: Whitsun Gemót. May 24, 1097.]
[Sidenote: Anselm favourably received; his last appeal.]
[Sidenote: Surmises as to the charge against Anselm.]
[Sidenote: He determines to ask leave]
[Sidenote: to go to Rome.]
[Sidenote: He declares his purpose to a chosen body.]
[Sidenote: Aspect of the demand.]
[Sidenote: The King’s answer.]
[Sidenote: The charge against Anselm withdrawn.]
The Whitsun festival came, and Anselm went to the Assembly. The place
of meeting is not mentioned; according to usage it would be
Westminster. Though the suit was hanging over Anselm, he went, not as
a defendant in a suit, but as a chief member of the Gemót. He seems to
have been graciously received by the King; at least we hear of him at
the royal table, and he had opportunities of private access to the
royal ear. Of these chances he did not fail to take advantage for his
purpose; but all was in vain; nothing at all tending to reform was to
be got out of William Rufus.[1575] In this way the earlier days of
meeting, the days of the actual festival, were spent. Then, as usual,
the various matters of business which had to be dealt with by the King
and his Witan were brought forward.[1576] Among other questions men
were eagerly asking what would become of the charge against the
Archbishop as to the bad equipment of his knights in the late Welsh
campaign. Would he have to pay some huge sum of money, or would he
have to pray for mercy, and be thereby so humbled that he could never
lift up his head again?[1577] Anselm’s thoughts meanwhile were set
upon quite other matters. He had made his last attempt on the King’s
conscience, and he had failed. There was nothing more to be done by
his own unaided powers. He must seek for the counsel and help of one
greater than himself. He called together a body of nobles of his own
choice, those doubtless in whom he could put most trust, and he bade
them carry a message from him to the King, to say that he was driven
by the utmost need to ask his leave to go to Rome.[1578] We ask why he
who had been on such intimate terms with the King during the earlier
days of the meeting, was now forced to send a message instead of
speaking to the King face to face. We may suppose that the arrangement
was the same as at Rockingham, that there was an outer and an inner
chamber, and that, while the suit against the Archbishop was pending,
he was not allowed to take his natural place among the King’s
counsellors. During the days of festival, he had been a guest and a
friend; now that the days of business had come, he had changed into a
defendant. We are not told what the lords of his choice said or
thought of the message which he put into their hands. Unless it was
accompanied by a rather full explanation, it must have been startling.
With the help of Eadmer we can follow the workings of Anselm’s mind;
but to one who heard the request suddenly it must have had a strange
sound. Did the Archbishop wish to complain to the Pope because the
King was displeased with the trim and conduct of his military
contingent? The King at least, when the message was taken to him, was
utterly amazed. But William was not in one of his worst moods; he was
sarcastic, but not wrathful. He refused the licence. There could be no
need for Anselm to go to the Pope. He would never believe that Anselm
had committed any sin so black that none but the Pope could absolve
him. And as for counsel, Anselm was much better fitted to give it to
the Pope than the Pope was to give it to Anselm. Anselm took the
refusal meekly. “Power is in his hands; he says what pleases him. What
he refuses now he may perhaps grant another day. I will multiply my
prayers.”[1579] Anselm had therefore to stay in England. But the
formal charge against him was withdrawn. Perhaps the King had merely
made it in a fit of ill humour, and had long given up any serious
thought of pressing it. And, if he really wished to annoy Anselm, he
had now a way in which he might annoy him far more thoroughly and with
much greater advantage than by any mere temporal suit.
[Sidenote: Affairs of Wales. June-August, 1097.]
[Sidenote: Another assembly.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s request again refused.]
This year was a year of gatherings, alike for counsel and for warfare.
The seeming submission of Wales was soon found to be utterly hollow.
From Midsummer till August William was engaged in another British
expedition, one which brought nothing but immediate toil and trouble,
but of whose more distant results we shall have again to speak. On his
return he summoned, perhaps not a general Gemót, but at any rate a
council of prelates and lords, to discuss grave matters touching the
state of the kingdom.[1580] We would fain hear something of their
debates on other affairs than those of Anselm; but that privilege is
denied us. We only know that, when the council was about to break up,
when all its members were eager to get to their homes, Anselm
earnestly craved that his request to go to Rome might be granted, and
that the King again refused.[1581]
[Sidenote: Assembly at Winchester. October 14, 1097.]
[Sidenote: Anselm renews his request.]
[Sidenote: Anselm again impleaded.]
[Sidenote: Alternative given to Anselm.]
[Sidenote: The meeting adjourned.]
William Rufus seems never to have been happy save when he was himself
moving and keeping everybody else in motion. It must have been in his
days as in the days of Constantius, when the means of getting from
place to place broke down through the multitude of bishops who were
going to and fro for the endless councils.[1582] In the month of
October the bishops and great lords at least, if no one else, were
brought together for the fourth time this year. This time the place of
meeting was Winchester; the day was the day of Saint Calixtus, the
thirty-first anniversary of the great battle. We hear nothing of any
other business, but only of the renewed petition of Anselm. It is
clear that the idea of going to the Pope had seized on Anselm’s mind
to an unhealthy degree. He could not help pressing it in season and
out of season, clearly to the weakening both of his influence and of
his position. He made his request to the King both with his own
lips――this time he was no defendant――and by the lips of others. The
King was now thoroughly tired of the subject; he was now not
sarcastic, but thoroughly annoyed and angry. He was weary of Anselm’s
endlessly pressing a request which he must by this time know would not
be granted. Anselm had wearied him too much; he now directly commanded
that he should cease from his importunity, that he should submit to
the judgement of the court and pay a fine for the annoyance which he
had given to his sovereign.[1583] The King had an undoubted right to
refuse the licence; but it is hard to see why the Archbishop was to be
fined for asking for it. By this turn Anselm was again made a
defendant. Anselm now offers to give good reasons, such as the King
could not gainsay, for the course which he took. The King refuses to
hear any reasons, and, with a mixture of licence, threat, and
defiance, he gives the Archbishop a kind of alternative. Anselm must
understand that, if he goes, the King will seize the archbishopric
into his own hands, and will never again receive him as archbishop.[1584]
There was some free expression of feeling in these assemblies; for
this announcement of the King’s will was met by a storm of shouts on
different sides, some cheering the King and some the Archbishop.[1585]
Some at last, the moderate party perhaps, proposed and carried an
adjournment till the morrow, hoping meanwhile to settle matters in
some other way.[1586]
[Sidenote: Thursday, October 15, 1097.]
[Sidenote: Anselm and the bishops and lords.]
The next morning came; as so often before, Anselm and his friends sat
waiting the royal pleasure. Some bishops and lords came out and asked
Anselm what his purpose now was about the affair of yesterday. He had
not, he answered, agreed to the adjournment because he had any doubt
as to his own purpose, but only lest he should seem to set no store by
the opinion of others. He was in the same mind in which he had been
yesterday; he would again crave the King’s leave to go. Go he must,
for the sake of his own soul’s health, for the sake of the Christian
religion, for the King’s own honour and profit, if he would only
believe it.[1587] The bishops and lords asked if he had anything else
to say; as for leave to go to Rome, it was no use talking; the King
would not grant it. Anselm answers that, if the King will not grant
it, he must follow the scripture and obey God rather than man. We here
see that Anselm had brooded over his griefs till he had reached the
verge of fanaticism. Such language would have been exaggerated, had it
been used when he was forbidden to go for the pallium according to
ancient custom; it was utterly out of place when no clear duty of any
kind, no law of eternal right, no positive law of the Church, bade him
to go to Rome in defiance of the King’s orders.
[Sidenote: Speech of Bishop Walkelin.]
[Sidenote: Anselm and the bishops.]
[Sidenote: The bishops’ portrait of themselves.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s answer.]
At this stage we again meet a personal spokesman on the other side;
Bishop Walkelin of Winchester speaks where doubtless William of
Saint-Calais would have spoken, had he still lived. Walkelin’s
argument was one hardly suited to the mind of Anselm. The King and his
lords knew the Archbishop’s ways; they knew that he was a man not
easily turned from his purpose; but it was not easy to believe that he
would be firm in his purpose of casting aside the honour and wealth of
the great office which he held, merely for the sake of going to
Rome.[1588] Anselm’s face lighted up, and he fixed his keen eyes on
Walkelin, with the words, “Truly I shall be firm.” This answer was
taken to the King, and was debated for a long while in the inner
council. At last Anselm bethinks him that his suffragans ought rather
to be advising him than advising the King; he sends and bids them to
come to him. Three of them come at the summons, Walkelin, the
ritualist Osmund, the cunning leech John of Bath. They sat down on
each side of their metropolitan. Anselm called on them, as bishops and
prelates in the Church of God. If they were really willing to guard
the right and the justice of God as they were ready to guard the laws
and usages of a mortal man,[1589] they will let him tell them in full
his reason for the course which he is taking, and they will then give
him their counsel in God’s name.[1590] The three bishops chose first
to confer with their brethren; Walkelin and Robert were then sent in
to the King, and the whole body of bishops came once more to Anselm.
We now see the portrait of the prelates of the Red King’s day, as it
is drawn by their own spokesman. Anselm they knew to be a devout and
holy man who had his conversation in heaven. But they were hindered by
the kinsfolk whom they sustained, by the manifold affairs of the world
which they loved; they could not rise to the loftiness of Anselm’s
life or trample on this world as he did.[1591] But if he would come
down to them, and would walk in their way,[1592] then they would
consult for him as they would consult for themselves, and would help
him in his affairs as if they were their own. If he would persist in
standing alone and referring everything to God,[1593] they would not
go beyond the fealty which they owed to the King. This was plain
speaking enough; the doctrine of interest against right has seldom,
even in these later times, been more openly set forth. One would think
that the bishops simply meant to strengthen Anselm’s fixed purpose;
they could not hope to move him with arguments which certainly did not
do justice to their own case. Anselm’s scholastic training always
enabled him to seize an advantage in argument. “You have spoken well,”
he answered; “go to your lord; I will cleave to God.”[1594] They did
as he bade them; they went, and Anselm was left almost alone; the few
friends who clave to him sat apart at his bidding, and prayed to God
to bring the matter to a good ending.[1595]
[Sidenote: Part of the lay lords.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s promise to obey the customs.]
[Sidenote: He is charged with breach of promise.]
[Sidenote: Alternative given to him.]
In all these debates it is the bishops who play the worst part. They
seem to say in calm earnest the same kind of things which the King
said in wrath or in jest. After a short delay, they come back,
accompanied by some lay barons, and the tone of their discourse is at
once raised. Anselm has no longer the laity on his side, as he had at
Rockingham; nor can we wonder at the change. The speech which is now
made is harsh, perhaps captious; but at all events the stand is now
taken on direct legal grounds, no longer on the base motives confessed
to by the bishops. The King sent word that Anselm had troubled him,
embittered him, tortured him, by his complaints.[1596] The Archbishop
is reminded that, after the suit at Rockingham and the reconciliation
which followed at Windsor――a reconciliation which is now attributed to
the earnest prayers of Anselm’s friends[1597]――he had sworn to obey
the laws and customs of the realm, and to defend them against all
men.[1598] After this promise the King had believed that Anselm would
give him no more trouble.[1599] But he had already broken his
oath――the charge is delicately worded――when he threatened to go to
Rome without the King’s leave.[1600] For any of the great men of the
realm so to do was utterly unheard of; for him most of all. Anselm’s
enemies had now the advantage of him; he certainly had uttered words
which might be not unfairly construed as an intended breach of the
law. They therefore called on him to make oath that he would never
appeal to the Holy See in any shape in any matter which the King might
lay upon him; otherwise he must leave the kingdom with all speed, on
what conditions he already knew. And if he chose to stay and take the
oath, he must submit to be fined at the judgement of the court for
having troubled the King so much about a matter in which he had after
all not stuck firm to his own purpose.[1601] This last condition seems
hard measure; there was surely no treason in making a request to the
King which it rested with the King to grant or to refuse. With regard
to the alleged breach of promise they undoubtedly stood on firmer
ground.
[Sidenote: Anselm and the King.]
[Sidenote: Qualifications and distinctions.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s discourse; duty to God always excepted.]
The King’s messengers did not wait for an answer. Anselm therefore
rose; followed by his companions, he went in to the King, and,
according to custom, sat down beside him.[1602] He asked whether the
message which he had just heard had really come from the King, and he
received for answer that it had. Anselm then said that he had
undoubtedly made the promise to observe the laws, but that he made it
only in God’s name, and so far as the laws were according to right,
and could be obeyed in God’s name.[1603] The King and his lords
answered that in the promise there had been no mention of God or of
right.[1604] We should be well pleased to have the actual words of the
promise; but we need not suppose any direct misstatement of fact on
either side; the forms of oaths and promises are commonly capable of
more than one interpretation. Words which one side looks on as
surplusage another side looks on as the root of the whole matter. But
the form of the answer gave Anselm, if not a logical, at least a
rhetorical, advantage. If there was no mention of God or right, what
was there mention of? No Christian man could be bound to observe laws
which were contrary to God and right. We have here reached the
beginning of those distinctions and qualifications which play so great
a part in the debates of the next century; but with Anselm the appeal
is simply to God and right; there is not a word about the privileges
of his order. His hearers murmured and wagged their heads, but said
nothing openly.[1605] So the Primate went on to lay down at some
length the doctrine that every promise of earthly duty involved in its
own nature a saving of duty to God. Faith was pledged in earthly
matters according to the faith due to God; faith to God was therefore
excepted by the very terms of the promise.[1606] The argument is
doubtless sound, as regards the individual conscience; it leaves out
of sight, and any argument of that age would probably have left out of
sight, the truth that men may differ as to what is duty towards God,
and that no lawgiver or administrator of the law can possibly listen
to every scruple which may be urged on such grounds in favour of
disobedience. To Anselm’s mind the case was clear. A custom which
hindered him from going to consult the Vicar of Saint Peter for his
own soul’s health and for the good of the Church was a custom contrary
to God and right, a custom which ought to be cast aside and disobeyed.
No man who feared God would hinder him from going to the head of
Christendom on God’s service. He ended with a parable. The King would
not think himself well served if any powerful vassal of his should by
terrors and threatenings hinder any other of his subjects from doing
his duty and service to him.
[Sidenote: Answer of Count Robert.]
[Sidenote: The barons against Anselm.]
[Sidenote: He ends his discourse.]
It was perhaps not wholly in enmity that the Count of Meulan, who at
Rockingham had frankly professed his admiration of Anselm, joined the
King at this stage in trying to turn off the matter with a jest. The
Primate, he said, was preaching them a sermon; but prudent people
could not admit his line of argument.[1607] And certainly Anselm’s
present line of argument, the assertion of individual conscience
against established law, could not be admitted by any legislative or
judicial assembly. A disturbance followed; the barons who had stood by
the Archbishop when he lay under a manifestly unjust charge joined in
the clamour against him when he declared that the law of the land was
something to be despised and disobeyed. But Anselm’s conscience was
not disturbed; he sat quiet and silent, with his face towards the
ground, till the clamour wore itself out.[1608] He then finished his
sermon, as Count Robert called it. No Christian man ought to demand of
him that he would never appeal to the blessed Peter or his Vicar. So
to swear would be to abjure Peter, and to abjure Peter would be to
abjure Christ who had set Peter as the chief over his Church. He then
turned to the King with a kind of gentle defiance; “When I deny
Christ, O King, for your sake, then will I not be slow to pay a fine
at the judgement of your court for my sin in asking your leave.” Half
in anger, half in mockery, Count Robert said, “You will present
yourself to Peter and the Pope; but no Pope shall get the better of
us, to our knowledge.”[1609] “God knows,” answered Anselm, “what may
be in store for you; He will be able, if He thinks good, to guide me
to the threshold of his apostles.” With these words the Archbishop
rose, and went again into the outer chamber.
[Sidenote: Anselm to be allowed to go, but the archbishopric to be
seized if he went.]
[Sidenote: Anselm allowed to go, but the archbishopric to be seized.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s last interview with the King.]
[Sidenote: He blesses Rufus.]
The King and his counsellors seem to have been moved by the calm
resolution of Anselm, even when the letter of the law was on their own
side. Either Rufus was not in his most savage mood, or his wily
Achitophel contrived to keep him in some restraint. Nothing could be
gained by keeping Anselm in the kingdom. He had already had the choice
set before him. He might go; but, if he went, the archbishopric would
be seized into the King’s hands. He had made his choice, and he should
be allowed to carry it out without hindrance; only he knew on what
conditions. The decision was on the whole not altogether unfair; but
the inherent pettiness of the magnanimous King could not help throwing
in an insult or two by the way. If Anselm chose to go, all that he
had, in Rufus’ version of the law, at once passed to the King. He was
therefore told, in the message which was sent out to him, that he
might go, but that he might take nothing with him which belonged to
the King.[1610] Anselm did not, like William of Saint-Calais, bargain
for the means of crossing in state with dogs, hawks, and
servants.[1611] He seems tacitly to raise a point of law. The lands of
the archbishopric might pass to the King; but that could not take from
him his mere personal goods. “I have,” he said, “horses, clothes,
furniture, which perhaps somebody may say are the King’s. But I will
go naked and on foot, rather than give up my purpose.” When these
words were reported to Rufus, for a moment he felt a slight sense of
shame.[1612] He did not wish the Archbishop to go naked and barefoot.
But within eleven days he must be ready at the haven to cross the sea,
and a messenger from the King would be there to tell him what he and
his companions would be allowed to take with them. The King’s bidding
was announced to the Archbishop, and Anselm’s companions wished, now
the matter seemed to be settled, to go at once to their own quarters.
But Anselm would not leave the man who was his earthly lord, who had
once been, in form at least, his friend, to whom he held himself to
stand in so close an official and personal relation, without one word
face to face. He entered the presence-chamber, and once more the saint
sat down side by side with the foulest of sinners. “My lord,” said
Anselm, “I am going. If I could have gone with your good will, it
would have better become you, and it would have been more pleasing to
every good man. But since things are turned another way, though it
grieves me as regards you, as regards myself I will, according to my
power, bear it with a calm mind. And not even for this will I, by the
Lord’s help, withdraw myself from the love of your soul’s health. Now
therefore, not knowing when I may again see you, I commend you to God,
and, as a ghostly father speaking to a beloved son, as an Archbishop
of Canterbury speaking to a King of England, I would, before I go,
give you my blessing, if you do not refuse it.” For a moment Rufus was
touched; his good angel perhaps spoke to him then for the last time.
“I refuse not your blessing,” was his answer. The man of God arose;
the King bowed his head, and Anselm made the sign of the cross over
it. He then went forth, leaving the King and all that were with him
wondering at the ready cheerfulness with which he spoke and
went.[1613]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Anselm at Canterbury.]
[Sidenote: He takes the pilgrim’s staff.]
[Sidenote: William of Warelwast at Dover.]
[Sidenote: Anselm crosses to Whitsand.]
Rufus and Anselm never met again. From Winchester the Archbishop went
to his own home at Canterbury.[1614] The day after he came there, he
gathered together his monks, and addressed them in a farewell
discourse.[1615] Then, in the sight of a crowd of monks, clerks, and
lay folk, he took the staff and scrip of a pilgrim before the altar.
He commended all present to Christ, and set forth amidst their tears
and wailings. The same day he and his comrades reached Dover. There he
found that the passing current of better feeling which had touched the
King’s heart as he bowed his head for Anselm’s blessing had been but
for a moment. Rufus had gone back to his old mind, to the spirit of
petty insult and petty gain. The King’s obedient clerk, William of
Warelwast, one day to be the builder of the twin towers of Exeter, was
there already. For fifteen days Anselm and his companions were kept at
Dover, waiting for a favourable wind. Meanwhile William of Warelwast
went in and out with Anselm; he ate at his table, and said not a word
of the purpose which had brought him.[1616] On the fifteenth day the
wind changed, and the sailors urged the Archbishop’s party to cross at
once. When they were on the shore ready to start, William stopped the
Archbishop as if he had been a runaway slave or a criminal escaping
from justice,[1617] and in the King’s name forbade him to cross, till
he had declared everything that he had in his baggage. In hope of
finding money, all Anselm’s bags and trunks were opened and ransacked,
in the sight of a vast crowd that stood by wondering at so unheard of
a deed, and cursing those who did it.[1618] The bags were opened and
ransacked in vain. Nothing was found that the King’s faithful clerk
thought worth his master’s taking. The Archbishop, with Baldwin and
Eadmer, was then allowed to set sail, and they landed safely at
Whitsand.
[Sidenote: The archbishopric seized by the King.]
[Sidenote: Anselm’s acts declared null.]
[Sidenote: The monks keep Peckham.]
[Sidenote: Rebuilding of the choir of Christ Church.]
[Sidenote: Ernulf Prior 1096? Abbot of Peterborough, 1107; Bishop of
Rochester, 1115.]
As soon as the King heard that Anselm was out of the kingdom, he did
as he had said that he would do; he again seized all the estates of
the archbishopric into his own hands. This was only what was to be
looked for; it was fully in accordance with the doctrines of Flambard,
and better kings than William Rufus would have done the like in the
like case. But Rufus or his agents went much further. Our guide
implies that he acted as if Anselm had been an intruder in the
archbishopric. All the acts and orders of Anselm during his four
years’ primacy――that is, we must suppose, all leases, grants, and
legal transactions of every kind――were declared null and void.[1619]
Much loss and wrong must have been thus caused to many persons. A man
who had, in the old phrase, bought land of the archbishopric for a
term or for lives[1620] would lose his land, and, we may be sure,
would not get back his money. A clerk collated by the Archbishop might
be turned out of his living to make room for a nominee of the King. It
is no wonder then that the wrongs which were done now were said to be
greater than the wrongs which had been done when the archiepiscopal
estates had before been seized after the death of Lanfranc.[1621] For
at any rate the acts of Lanfranc were not reversed. One feels a
certain desire to know what became of the Archbishop’s knights whose
array had so displeased the King earlier in the year. But we hear
nothing of them or of any particular class; all is quite general. In
one case indeed it is quite certain that the rule that all Anselm’s
acts should be treated as invalid was not carried out. The monks of
Christ Church clearly kept their temporary possession of the manor of
Peckham. For they spent the whole income of it on great architectural
works which Anselm himself had begun. The metropolitan church, so
lately rebuilt by Lanfranc, had already become small in the eyes of a
younger generation, as indeed it was smaller than many minsters of the
same date. The church of Lanfranc had followed the usual Norman plan;
the short eastern limb, the monks’ choir, was under the tower.[1622]
The arrangements of the minster were now recast after a new pattern
which did not commonly prevail till many years later. The eastern limb
was rebuilt on a far greater scale, itself forming as it were a
cruciform church, with its own transepts, its own towers, one of which
in after days received the name of Anselm. This work, begun by Anselm
before his banishment, was carried on in his absence by the prior of
his appointment, Ernulf――Earnwulf――a monk of his old house of Bec, but
perhaps of English birth, who rose afterwards to be Abbot of
Peterborough and Bishop of Rochester.[1623] In marked contrast to the
speed with which Lanfranc had carried through his work, the choir
begun by Ernulf and carried on by his successor Prior Conrad was not
consecrated till late in the days of Henry.[1624]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Comparison of the trials of William of Saint-Calais,
Anselm, and Thomas.]
[Sidenote: Comparison of the men.]
[Sidenote: Position of Thomas;]
[Sidenote: of William of Saint-Calais.]
[Sidenote: Anselm does not strictly appeal to the Pope.]
After reading the accounts of these two great debates or trials, at
Rockingham and at Winchester, it is impossible to avoid looking both
backwards and forwards. The story of these proceedings must be told,
as I have throughout tried to tell it, with an eye to the earlier
proceedings against William of Saint-Calais, to the later proceedings
against Thomas of London. The three stories supply an instructive
contrast. In each case a bishop is arraigned before a civil tribunal;
in each case the bishop appeals to the Pope; but beyond that the three
men have little in common. William and Thomas were both of them,
though in widely different senses, playing a part; it is Anselm alone
who is throughout perfectly simple and unconscious. Through the whole
of Anselm’s life, we feel that he never could have acted otherwise
than as he did act. He never stopped to think what was the right thing
for a saintly archbishop to do; he simply did at all times what his
conscience told him that he ought to do. Thomas, perfectly sincere,
thoroughly bent on doing his duty, was still following a conscious
ideal of duty; he was always thinking what a saintly archbishop ought
to do; above all things, we may be sure, he was thinking what Anselm,
in the like case, would have done. Thus, while Anselm acts quite
singly, Thomas is, consciously though sincerely, playing a part.
William of Saint-Calais is playing a part in a far baser sense; he
appeals to the Pope, he appeals to ecclesiastical privileges in
general, simply to serve his own personal ends. He appealed to those
privileges more loudly than anybody else, when he thought that by that
appeal he might himself escape condemnation. He trampled them under
foot more scornfully than anybody else, when he thought that by so
doing he might bring about the condemnation of Anselm and his own
promotion. But it is curious to see how in some points the sincere
acting of Thomas and the insincere acting of William agree as
distinguished from the pure single-mindedness of Anselm. Both William
and Thomas distinctly appeal to the Pope from the sentence of the
highest court in their own land. We cannot say that Anselm did this;
he does not refuse the sentence of the King’s court; he does not ask
the Pope to set aside the sentence of the King’s court; the utmost
that he does is to say that it is his duty to obey God rather than
man, and that his duty to God obliges him to go to the Pope. To the
Pope therefore he will go, even though the King forbids him; but he is
ready at the same time to bear patiently the spoiling of his goods as
the penalty of going. This is assuredly not an appeal to the Pope in
the same sense as the appeals made by William and Thomas.
[Sidenote: Anselm does not assert clerical privileges.]
[Sidenote: Question of observing the customs.]
Among the marks of difference in the cases is that both William and
Thomas strongly assert the privileges of their order; none but the
Pope may judge a bishop. Anselm never once, during his whole dispute
with William Rufus, makes the slightest claim to any such privilege;
he never breathes a word about the rights of the clerical order. The
doctrine that none but the Pope may judge the Archbishop of
Canterbury――nothing is said about other priests or other bishops――is
heard of only once during the whole story.[1625] And then it is not
put forth by Anselm; it is not openly put forth by anybody; it is
merely mentioned by Eadmer as something which came into the minds of
the undutiful bishops as a kind of after-thought. This most likely
means that it was not really thought of at the time, either by the
bishops or by anybody else, but that Eadmer, writing by fresh lights
learned at Rome and at Bari, could no longer understand a state of
things in which it was not thought of by somebody. The truth doubtless
is that in Anselm’s day the doctrine of clerical exemption from
temporal jurisdiction was a novelty which was creeping in. It was well
known enough for Odo and William of Saint-Calais to catch at it to
serve their own ends; it was not so fully established that it was at
all a matter of conscience with Anselm to assert it. By the time of
Thomas every doctrine of the kind had so grown that its assertion had
become a point of conscience with every strict churchman. But there is
another point in which the case of Anselm and the case of Thomas agree
as distinguished from the case of William of Saint-Calais. In this
last case nothing turned on any promise of the Bishop to obey the
customs of the realm. Much in the case of Anselm, much more in the
case of Thomas, turned on such a promise. In each case the Archbishop
pleads a certain reservation expressed or understood; but there is a
wide difference between the reservation made by Anselm and the
reservation made by Thomas. The favourite formula with Thomas, the
formula which he proposes, the formula which he is at Clarendon with
difficulty persuaded to withdraw and on which he again falls
back,[1626] is “saving my order.” Anselm has nothing to say about his
order; he is not fighting for the privileges of any special body of
men; he is simply a righteous man clothed with a certain office, the
duties of which office he must discharge. It is not his order that he
reserves; he reserves only the higher and more abiding names of God
and right.
[Sidenote: Nature of our reports of the trials.]
[Sidenote: Comparison of the proceedings in each case.]
[Sidenote: William and Thomas summoned to answer a charge.]
[Sidenote: Anselm seeks advice on a point of law.]
[Sidenote: Proceedings in the case of William of Saint-Calais.]
[Sidenote: Architectural arrangements.]
[Sidenote: Constitution of the several assemblies.]
[Sidenote: The Witenagemót;]
[Sidenote: its constitution becomes gradually less popular.]
[Sidenote: Lessened freedom of speech.]
As for the cases themselves and the tribunals before which they were
heard, we must always remember that our reports, though very full, are
not official. Their authors therefore use technical or non-technical
language at pleasure. They assume familiarity with the nature of the
court and its mode of procedure; they do not stop to explain many
things which we should be very glad if they had stopped to explain.
But it is clear that the nature of the proceedings was not exactly the
same in the three cases. And it is singular that, in point of mere
procedure, there seems more likeness between the case of Anselm and
the case of Thomas than there is between either and the case of
William of Saint-Calais. William of Saint-Calais and Thomas were both
of them, in the strictest sense, summoned before a court to answer a
charge. The charges were indeed of quite different kinds in the two
cases. William of Saint-Calais was charged with high treason. Thomas,
besides a number of demands about money, was charged only with failing
to appear in the King’s court in answer to an earlier summons. Anselm,
on the other hand, cannot be said to have been really charged with
anything, though the King and his party tried to treat him as though
he had been. The assembly at Rockingham was gathered at Anselm’s own
request, to inform him on a point of law. The King and his bishops
tried to treat Anselm as a criminal; but they found that the general
feeling of the assembly would not allow them to do so. At Winchester
again, Anselm was not summoned to answer any charge, for the charge
about the troops in the Welsh war had been dropped at Windsor. The
charges, such as they are, which are brought against him turn up as it
were casually in the course of the proceedings. Yet the order of
things seems much the same in the case of Anselm and in the case of
Thomas, while in the case of William of Saint-Calais it seems to be
different. In the case of William of Saint-Calais everything is done
in the King’s presence. The Bishop himself has more than once to leave
the place of meeting, while particular points are discussed; but there
is not that endless going to and fro which there is in the other two
cases. In the case of Thomas, as in the case of Anselm, we see plainly
the inner room where the King sits with his immediate counsellors,
while the Archbishop waits in an outer place with the general body of
the assembly. At Northampton we see the architectural arrangement more
clearly than either at Rockingham or at Winchester. Thomas enters the
great hall, and goes no further, while the King’s inner council is
held in the solar.[1627] It is possible, as indeed I have already
hinted,[1628] that there was a difference in the nature of the
assembly in the case of William of Saint-Calais and in the two cases
of Anselm and Thomas. We must remember that in the reign of William
Rufus the judicial and administrative system was still only forming
itself, and that many things were then vague and irregular, both in
fact and in name, which had taken a definite shape in the time of
Henry the Second. Between the case of Anselm and the case of Thomas
came the justiciarship of Roger of Salisbury and the chancellorship of
Thomas himself. I am inclined to think that, at Rockingham, at
Winchester, at Northampton, the assembly was strictly the great
assembly of the nation, the ancient Witenagemót, with such changes in
its working as had taken place between the days of the Confessor and
the days of William Rufus, and again between the days of William Rufus
and the days of Henry the Second. Each of these periods of change
would of course do something towards taking away from the old popular
character of the assembly. At Rockingham that popular character is by
no means lost. We are not told where the line, if any, was drawn; but
a multitude of monks, clerks, and laymen were there.[1629] At
Northampton we hear of no class below the lesser barons; and they,
with the sheriffs, wait in the outer hall, till they are specially
summoned to the King’s presence. At Rockingham too and at Winchester
there seems much greater freedom of speech than there is at
Northampton. The whole assembly shouts and cheers as it pleases, and a
simple knight steps forth to speak and to speak boldly.[1630] At
Northampton, as at Rockingham and at Winchester, the Archbishop is
allowed the company of his personal followers. William Fitz-Stephen
and Herbert of Bosham sit at the feet of Thomas, as Eadmer and Baldwin
sit at the feet of Anselm. But at Northampton the disciples are
roughly checked in speaking to their master, in a way of which there
is no sign in the earlier assemblies. At Rockingham and Winchester
again, though the Archbishop stays for the most part outside in the
hall, yet he more than once goes unbidden into the presence-chamber,
and is even followed thither by his faithful monks. At Northampton
Thomas is never admitted to the King’s presence, and no one seems to
go into the inner room who is not specially summoned. This may be
merely because, as is likely enough, strictness of rule, form, and
etiquette had greatly advanced between William Rufus and Henry the
Second. Or it may have been because Thomas was strictly summoned to
answer a charge, while Anselm was really under no charge at all, but
came as a member of the assembly.
[Sidenote: The inner and outer council;]
[Sidenote: foreshadowing of lords and commons.]
[Sidenote: Thomas tried before the Witan;]
[Sidenote: William before the _Theningmannagemót_.]
Another point here arises. I cannot but think that in these great
assemblies, consisting of an inner and an outer body, we must see the
same kind of distinction which we saw on the great day of Salisbury
between the Witan and the landsitting men. That is, I see in the inner
and outer bodies the foreshadowing of Lords and Commons. To this day
there is one chamber in which the King’s throne is set; there is
another chamber whose occupants do not enter the presence of that
throne, except by special summons. I am inclined therefore to see,
both in the case of Anselm and in the case of Thomas, a true gathering
of the Witan of the realm. Thomas comes, like Strafford or Hastings,
to answer a charge before the Court of our Lord the King in
Parliament,[1631] that court, which from an assembly of the whole
nation, gradually shrank up into an assembly of the present peerage.
In the case of Anselm I see the same body acting, not strictly as a
court, but rather as the great inquest of the nation, but at the same
time fluctuating somewhat, as was but natural in that age, between its
judicial and its legislative functions. But in the tribunal which sat
on William of Saint-Calais I am, as I have already said, inclined to
see, not the _Mickle Gemót_ of the whole nation, but rather the King’s
court in a narrower sense, the representative of the ancient
_Theningmannagemót_, the more strictly official body.[1632] Here we
have no division of chambers; the proceedings are strictly those of a
court trying a charge, and the King, as chief judge, is present
throughout.
[Sidenote: Estimate of the three cases.]
[Sidenote: Behaviour of Rufus;]
[Sidenote: of Henry the Second.]
[Sidenote: Comparison with Henry the First.]
As for the matter of the three cases, the trial of William of
Saint-Calais was in itself the perfectly fair trial of a rebel who, in
the end, after the custom of the age, came off very lightly for his
rebellion. There really seems nothing to blame William Rufus for in
that matter――William Rufus, that is, still largely guided by
Lanfranc――except some characteristic pettinesses just towards the end
of the story.[1633] Towards Anselm William appears――save under one or
two momentary touches of better feeling――simply as the power of evil
striving, by whatever means, to crush the power of good. He seems none
the less so, even when on particular points his own case is
technically right. Henry the Second, acting honestly for the good of
his kingdom, both technically and morally right in his main quarrel,
stoops to the base and foolish course of trying to crush his adversary
by a crowd of charges in which the King seems to have been both
morally and technically wrong, and which certainly would never have
been brought if the Archbishop had not given offence on other grounds.
William Rufus again, and Henry the Second also, each forsook his own
position by calling in, when it suited their momentary purposes, the
very power which their main position bade them to control and to keep
out of their kingdom. Not so the great king who came between them. The
Lion of Justice knew, and he alone in those days seems to have known,
how to carry on a controversy of principle, without ever forsaking his
own position, without ever losing his temper or lowering his dignity,
without any breach of personal respect and friendship towards the holy
man whom his kingly office made it his duty to withstand.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Effect on Anselm of his foreign sojourn.]
[Sidenote: Change in him.]
The three years of Anselm’s first sojourn beyond sea concern us for
the most part only indirectly. Of their most important aspect, as
concerns us, I have spoken elsewhere,[1634] and we shall again see
their fruit before the present work is ended. In his journeyings to
Lyons, to Rome, to Bari, Anselm learned a new doctrine which he had
never found out either at Bec or at Canterbury. It was not for his
good that he, who had, like the Primates who had gone before him,
received his staff from the King’s hands, and placed his own hands in
homage between them, should hear the anathema pronounced against the
prince who should bestow or the clerk who should receive any
ecclesiastical benefice in such sort as no prince had scrupled to give
them, as no clerk had scrupled to receive them, in the days of King
Eadward and in the days of King William.[1635] When Anselm came back
to England, he came, as we shall see, the same Anselm as of old in
every personal quality, in every personal virtue. But in all things
which touched the relations of popes, kings, and bishops, he came back
another man.
[Sidenote: His journey.]
[Sidenote: Alleged scheme of Odo Duke of Burgundy [1078-1102] against
Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Anselm at Rome.]
[Sidenote: Council of Lateran.]
But in the course of Anselm’s adventures, in his foreign journeys,
there are details here and there which no Englishman can read without
interest. We come across constant signs of the place which England and
her Primate held in the minds of men of other lands. We read how no
less a prince than Odo Duke of Burgundy, already a crusader in Spain
and afterwards a crusader in Palestine, was tempted by the report of
the wealth of the great English see to sink into a common robber, and
to set forth for the purpose of plundering the Primate as he passed
through his land. We read how he was turned from his purpose, when he
saw the white hair, the gentle and venerable look, of the Archbishop,
the look which won all hearts. Instead of harming him, Odo received
his kiss and sought his blessing, and sent him under a safe guard to
the borders of his duchy.[1636] We read how the likeness of that
venerable face had been painted by cunning limners in the interest of
Clement, that the robbers who were sent to seize the faithful follower
of Urban might better know their intended victim. We read with some
national pride how, at his first interview with Urban, when Anselm
bowed himself at the Pontiff’s feet, he was raised, received to his
kiss, and seated by him as one of equal rank, the Pope and Patriarch
of another world. We read how, in the great gathering in the head
church of the city and of the world, when no man knew what was the
fitting place in a Roman council for a guest such as none had ever
seen before, the English Archbishop was placed at the papal bidding in
a seat of special honour. Anselm took his seat in that apse which was
spared when papal barbarism defaced the long arcades of Constantine,
when the patriarchal throne of the world was cast forth as an useless
thing,[1637] but which the more relentless havoc of our own day,
eager, it would seem, to get rid of all that is older than the dogmas
of modern Rome, has ruthlessly swept away. We read how visitors and
pilgrims from England bowed to kiss the feet of Anselm, as they would
have kissed those of Urban himself, and how the humble saint ever
refused such unbecoming worship.[1638] And we are most touched of all
to hear how, among all these honours, Anselm was commonly spoken of in
Rome, not by his name, not by the titles of his office, but simply as
“the holy man.”[1639] At Rome, that name might have a special meaning.
It was well deserved by the one suitor at the Roman throne who
abstained from the use of Rome’s most convincing argument.
[Sidenote: Council of Bari.]
[Sidenote: Anselm pleads for Rufus.]
[Sidenote: The cope of Beneventum.]
[Sidenote: Dealings between Canterbury and Beneventum.]
[Sidenote: Emma buys the arm of Saint Bartholomew.]
[Sidenote: Æthelnoth’s gift of the cope.]
[Sidenote: Eadmer recognises the cope.]
But in the record of Anselm’s wanderings there is one tale which comes
home more than any other to the hearts of Englishmen, a tale which
carries us back, if not strictly to the days of English freedom, at
least to the days when we had a conqueror whom we had made our own.
The fathers are gathered at Bari, in the great minster of the Lykian
Nicolas, where the arts of northern and southern Christendom, the
massiveness of the Norman, the finer grace of the Greek, are so
strangely blended in the pile which was then fresh from the
craftsman’s hand. There, in his humility, the pilgrim from Canterbury
takes to himself a modest place amongst the other bishops, with the
faithful Eadmer sitting at his feet.[1640] The Pope calls on his
father and master, Anselm Archbishop of the English, to arise and
speak. There, in the city so lately torn away from Eastern
Christendom, Anselm is bidden to justify the change which Latin
theology had made in that creed of the East which changeth not. The
Pope harangues on the sufferings of the Church in various lands, and,
above all, on the evil deeds of the tyrant of England. The assembled
fathers agree with one voice that the sword of Peter must be drawn,
and that such a sinner must be smitten in the face of the whole world.
Then Anselm kneels at the feet of Urban, and craves that no such blow
may be dealt on the man who had so deeply wronged him.[1641] But,
while these high debates were going on, the curious eye of Eadmer had
lighted on an object which spoke straight to his heart as an
Englishman and a monk of Christ Church. Among the assembled prelates
the Archbishop of Beneventum appeared clad in a cope of surpassing
richness. Eadmer knew at once whence it came; he knew that it had once
been one of the glories of Canterbury, worn by Primates of England
before England had bowed either to the Norman or to the Dane. Eadmer,
brought up from his childhood in the cloister of Christ Church, had
been taught as a boy by aged monks who could remember the days of Cnut
and Emma. Those elders of the house, Eadwig and Blæcman and Farman,
had told him how in those days there had been a mighty famine in the
land of Apulia, how the then Archbishop of Beneventum had travelled
through foreign lands to seek help for his starving flock, how he
brought with him a precious relic, the arm of the apostle Bartholomew,
and how, having passed through Italy and Gaul, he was led to cross the
sea by the fame of the wealth of England and of the piety and bounty
of Emma its Lady. She gave him plenteous gifts for his people, and he
asked whether she would not give yet more as the price of the precious
relic. The genuineness of the treasure was solemnly sworn to;[1642] a
great price was paid for it by the Lady, and, by the special order of
King Cnut, it was added as a precious gift to the treasures of the
metropolitan church. For in those days, says Eadmer, it was the manner
of the English to set the patronage of the saints before all the
wealth of this world. The Archbishop of Beneventum went back, loaded
with the alms of England, and bearing with him, among other gifts from
his brother Primate Æthelnoth, this very cope richly embroidered with
gold with all the skill of English hands. Eadmer, taught by the
tradition of his elders, knew the vestment as he saw it in that far
land on the shoulders of the successor of the prelate who had come to
our island for help in his day of need. He saw it with joy; he pointed
it out to Father Anselm, and, feigning ignorance, he asked the
Beneventan Archbishop the history of the splendid cope which he wore.
He was pleased to find that the tradition of Beneventum was the same
as the tradition of Canterbury.[1643] Now that we have made our way
into other times and other lands, it is pleasing to look back for a
moment, with our faithful Eadmer, to days when England still was
England, even though she had already learned to bow to a foreign King
and a foreign Lady.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Position of Rufus.]
[Sidenote: Possible effect of excommunication on him.]
[Sidenote: Papal excommunications not yet despised.]
[Sidenote: The Emperor Henry.]
[Sidenote: Philip of France.]
[Sidenote: Boleslaus of Poland. 1079.]
[Sidenote: The case of Harold.]
[Sidenote: Probable effect of an excommunication on the people.]
More important in a general view than the details of Anselm’s journey
are the negotiations which went on during this time between William,
Urban, and Anselm. The Red King’s day of grace was now over. The last
touch of feeling recorded of him is when he bowed his head to receive
Anselm’s blessing. Henceforth he stands out, in a more marked way than
ever, in the character which distinguishes him from other kings and
from other men. We have had evil kings before and after him; but we
have had none other who openly chose evil to be his good, none other
who declared himself in plain words to be the personal enemy of the
Almighty. Yet, as we have already noticed, the bolts of the Church
never lighted on the head of this worst of royal sinners. We have just
seen how once at least he was spared by the merciful intercession of
his own victim. We are tempted to stop and think how a formal
excommunication would have worked on such an one as William Rufus had
now become. We must remember that the weight of papal excommunications
of princes had not yet been lowered, as it came to be lowered
afterwards, either by their frequency or by their manifest injustice.
The cases which were then fresh in men’s minds were all striking and
weighty. The excommunication of the Emperor was, from the papal point
of view, a natural stage of the great struggle which was still raging.
Philip of France had been excommunicated for a moral offence which
seemed the darker because it involved the mockery of an ecclesiastical
sacrament. And no man could wonder or blame when, in the days of
Hildebrand, Boleslaus of Poland was put out of the communion of the
faithful for slaying with his own hands before the altar the bishop
who had rebuked him for his sins.[1644] The case most akin to the
wanton excommunications of later times had been when Alexander the
Second in form, when Hildebrand in truth, had denounced Harold without
a hearing for no crime but that of accepting the crown which his
people gave him. But men are so apt to judge by results that the fall
of Harold and of England may by this time, even among Englishmen, have
begun to be looked on as a witness to the power of the Church’s
thunders. In the days of Rufus a papal excommunication was still a
real and fearful thing at which men stood aghast. It might not have
turned the heart of Rufus; it might even have hardened his heart yet
further. But among his people, even among his own courtiers, the
effect would doubtless have been such that he must in the end, like
Philip, have formally given way. As it was, the bolt never fell; the
hand of Anselm stopped it once; other causes, as we shall soon see,
stopped it afterwards. And, instead of the formal excommunication of
Rome, there came that more striking excommunication by the voice of
the English people, when, by a common instinct, they declared William
the Red to have no true part in that communion of the faithful from
which he had never been formally cut off.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Anselm writes to the Pope from Lyons.]
[Sidenote: His new tone.]
[Sidenote: Anselm at Rome.]
[Sidenote: Letters to the King.]
[Sidenote: His reception of the letters.]
The negotiations, if we may so call them, which followed the departure
of Anselm may be looked on as beginning with a letter written by
Anselm to the Pope from Lyons.[1645] The Archbishop, once out of
England, seems to take up a new tone. His language with regard to the
King’s doings is still singularly mild;[1646] but he now begins to
speak, not only of God and right, but of the canons of the Church and
the authority of the Pope, as something to which the arbitrary customs
of England must give way.[1647] To those customs he cannot agree
without perilling his own soul and the souls of his successors. He
comes to the Apostolic See for help and counsel.[1648] When he had
reached Rome, he again set forth his case more fully, as it had been
set forth in the letter from Lyons. Letters both from Anselm and from
the Pope were sent to the King by the same messenger, letters which
unluckily are not preserved. The summary of the papal letter seems to
point to a lofty tone on the part of the Pontiff. He moves, he
exhorts, he at last commands, King William, to leave the goods of the
Archbishop free, and to restore everything to him.[1649] Anselm’s own
letter was doubtless in a milder strain. The messenger came back, to
find both Urban and Anselm again at Rome after the synod at Bari. The
letter from Urban had been received, though ungraciously; the letter
from Anselm was sent back. As soon as the King knew that the bearer
was a man of the Archbishop’s, he had sworn by the face of Lucca that,
unless the messenger speedily got him away out of his lands, he would
have his eyes torn out without fail.[1650]
[Sidenote: Mission of William of Warelwast.]
[Sidenote: William on the continent. November, 1097-April, 1099.]
[Sidenote: Affairs of Southern Italy.]
[Sidenote: Siege of Capua.]
[Sidenote: Anselm at Schiavia.]
[Sidenote: He writes “Cur Deus Homo.”]
[Sidenote: Anselm and Urban before Capua.]
[Sidenote: Anselm and the Saracens.]
[Sidenote: Count Roger forbids conversions.]
The Pope however could hardly be left wholly without some answer,
however scornfully William might deal with the letter of his own
subject. But the answer was not speedy in coming. Its bearer was the
trusty clerk William of Warelwast, of whom we have already heard more
than once. The King’s business did not now call for the same haste as
it had done when the same man was sent to find out who was the true
Pope.[1651] Much happened before he came. Amongst other things, not a
few travellers came from England and Normandy, bringing with them
fresh and fresh reports of the evil doings of the King, some of which
we have already heard of. William was now in Normandy. He crossed at
Martinmas,[1652] and spent the whole of the next year in the wars of
France and Maine. He did not come back to England till the Easter of
the year following that.[1653] It was now that he played at Rouen the
part of a missionary of the creed of Moses.[1654] But he kept his eye
upon England also; for to this time is assigned the story of the fifty
Englishmen who so enraged the blaspheming King by proving their
innocence by the ordeal.[1655] Nor was it merely rumours of William’s
doings at home which found their way into Italy from Normandy and
England. While the King was devising his answer to the Pope, his
emissaries were busy in other parts of the peninsula. The affairs of
the Normans in their two great settlements are always joining in one
stream. While Bohemund and Tancred were on their Eastern march, the
reigning princes of their house, Roger of Apulia and Roger of Sicily,
were carrying on their schemes of advancement west of Hadria. Their
armies now lay before Capua. Meanwhile Anselm had withdrawn with John
Abbot of Telesia to seek quiet in a town of the Abbot’s on the upper
Vulturnus, whose name of Schiavia may suggest some ethnological
questions.[1656] Our guide specially marks that this journey was a
journey into Samnium; he may not have fully taken in how truly Telesia
was the heart of Samnium, alike in the days of the Pontius of the
Caudine Forks and in the days of the Pontius of the Colline
Gate.[1657] Here, in his Samnite retreat, Anselm was moulding the
theology of all later times by his treatise which told why God became
Man.[1658] Meanwhile William of England, at war with righteousness in
all its forms, held Helias in his prison at Bayeux,[1659] and plotted
against Anselm in his hermitage at Schiavia. When Duke Roger’s army
was so near, the master of Normandy deemed that something might be
done for his purpose by Norman arms or Norman craft. He sent
letters――his letters could go speedily when speed was needed――to stir
up Duke Roger to do some mischief to the man whom he hated.[1660] The
plot was in vain. Anselm was invited to the Duke’s camp; he was
received there with all honour during a sojourn of some time, as he
was at every other point of the Duke’s dominions to which he
went.[1661] The Pope and Anselm, patriarchs of two worlds, were Duke
Roger’s guests at the same time. But only the rich dared to present
themselves in the presence of the Pope of the mainland, while the
shepherd of the nations beyond the sea welcomed men of all kinds
lovingly.[1662] The very Saracens whom Count Roger had brought from
Sicily to the help of his nephew pressed to visit the holy man of
another faith, to be received and fed at his cost, to kiss his hands,
and to cover him with prayers and blessings. Not a few of them were
even ready to embrace Anselm’s creed;[1663] but proselytism among his
soldiers formed no part of the policy of the conqueror of Sicily.
Count Roger was ready enough to extend the territorial bounds of
Christendom by his sword; but he found, as his great-grandson found
after him, that in war no followers were to be trusted like the
misbelievers. Once enlisted in his service, they had no motive to
forsake him for any other Christian leader, while they had no hope of
restoring the supremacy of their own faith. With them too neither
Clement nor Urban, nor any votary of Clement or Urban, had any weight.
So useful a class of warriors was not to be lessened in number.
Whatever might be his missionary zeal at Palermo or Syracuse, Count
Roger allowed no conversions in the camp before Capua. The men who
were ready to hearken to Anselm’s teaching had to turn away at the
bidding of their temporal lord, and the father of Christian theology
was forbidden the rare glory of winning willing proselytes to the
Christian faith among the votaries of Islam.[1664]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Anselm wishes to resign the archbishopric.]
[Sidenote: Urban forbids him.]
Meanwhile the tales of William’s misdoings in Normandy and England
were brought in day by day. The heart of Anselm was moved ever more
and more; he saw that, come what might, he and such a king could never
agree; the only course for him was to cast aside the grievous burthen
and responsibility of his archbishopric. He earnestly craved the
Pontiff’s leave to resign it into his hands.[1665] Urban was far too
wary for this. He enjoined Anselm, by virtue of holy obedience, to do
no such thing. The King, in his tyranny, might seize his temporalities
and might keep him out of the land; but in the eye of the Church he
remained none the less the Archbishop of the English kingdom, with his
power of binding and loosing as strong as ever.[1666] Anselm was not
only not to give up his office; he was to make a point of always
appearing with the full badges of his office.[1667] Even now Anselm
seems to have been in some difficulties how to reconcile his two
duties to God and to Cæsar, difficulties which he would doubtless have
got rid of altogether by resigning the archbishopric.[1668] But he
submits to the Pontiff’s will, and he is bidden to meet him again at
Bari, where judgement will be given in the matter of the King of the
English and of all others who interfere with the liberties of the
Church.[1669]
[Sidenote: Council of Bari. October 1, 1098.]
[Sidenote: Anselm at Rome.]
[Sidenote: William of Warelwast and Urban.]
[Sidenote: Urban’s answer.]
[Sidenote: Excommunication threatened.]
[Sidenote: April 12, 1099.]
Then came the meeting at Bari, the disputation against the Greeks, the
excommunication of Rufus stopped by Anselm’s intercession.[1670] That
Anselm was playing an arranged part we cannot believe for a moment;
but we may believe, without breach of charity, that Urban threatened
the excommunication of Rufus in the full belief that Anselm would
intercede for him. Urban and Anselm then went back to Rome; and
thither presently came the messenger from Normandy, who had to tell of
the King’s frightful threats towards himself. Soon after came William
of Warelwast, with a message from the King to the Pope. The diplomacy
of the future bishop of Exeter was at least straightforward. “My lord
the King sends you word that he wonders not a little how it can have
come into your mind to address him for the restitution of the goods of
Anselm.” He added, “If you ask the reason, here it is. When Anselm
wished to depart from his land, the King openly threatened him that,
if he went, he should take the whole archbishopric into his demesne.
Since Anselm then would not, even when thus threatened, give up his
purpose of going, the King deems that his own acts were right, and
that he is now wrongfully blamed.”[1671] The Pope asked whether the
King had any other charge against Anselm. “None,” answered the envoy.
Urban had gained an advantage. He poured forth his wonder at a thing
so unheard of in all time as that a king should spoil the primate of
his kingdom of all his goods merely because he would not refrain from
visiting the Roman Church, the mother of all churches.[1672] William
of Warelwast might go back to his master, and might tell him that the
Pope meant to hold a council at Rome in the Easter-week next to come,
and that, if by that time Anselm was not restored to all that he had
lost, the sentence of excommunication should go forth.[1673]
[Sidenote: William of Warelwast’s secret dealings with Urban.]
[Sidenote: The excommunication respited.]
[Sidenote: April-September, 1099.]
Brave words were these of Pope Urban, but William the Red knew how to
deal with mere bravery of words, even in the Pope whom he had
acknowledged. Walter of Albano had once outwitted William and his
counsellors; but Walter of Albano had in the end yielded to William’s
most powerful argument. William of Warelwast was not the least likely
to outwit Urban; but he had it in commission from his master to
overcome the Pope by the same logic by which his Legate had been
overcome. We may copy the words of our own Chronicler four-and-twenty
years later; “That overcame Rome that overcometh all the world, that
is gold and silver.”[1674] To Urban’s well conceived speech the answer
of William of Warelwast was pithy and practical; “Before I go away, I
will have some dealings with you more in private.”[1675] He went to
work prudently, as the Red King’s clerks knew how to do; he made
friends here and there; the Pope’s advisers were blinded; the Pope
himself was blinded; a respite from Easter to Michaelmas was granted
to King William of England.[1676]
[Sidenote: Position of Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Urban’s treatment of Anselm.]
[Sidenote: Anselm made to stay for the Council of Lateran, April 12,
1099.]
[Sidenote: Protest of Reingar of Lucca.]
This adjournment was a heavy blow for Anselm. He had in no way stirred
up the Pope to any action against the prince whom he still
acknowledged as his sovereign. At Bari, when no answer had as yet been
received from the King, Anselm had pleaded for him; it was indeed only
common justice to give him that one more chance. But, when the answer
had come, and had proved to be of such a kind as we have seen, Anselm
most likely thought that the time for action had come. He might indeed
fairly deem that the excommunication would in truth be an act of
kindness towards William. All other means of reclaiming the sinner had
failed; that final and most awful means might at last succeed. At all
events, Anselm’s soul was grieved to the quick at the thought that the
Pope’s sentence, whatever it might be, could be changed or delayed by
the power of filthy lucre. He had borne every kind of grief, he had
borne insults and banishment and the spoiling of his goods, for the
sake of Rome and the Pope, and he had now found out what Rome and the
Pope were. He had found that the master was no better than his
servants. He had found Rome to be what Rome was ever found to be by
every English bishop, by every Englishman by birth or adoption, who
ever trusted in her. Urban proved the same broken reed to Anselm which
Alexander in after days proved to Thomas. Anselm had gone through much
in order to have the counsel and help of the Pope. But no counsel or
help had he found in him.[1677] He craved leave to depart from Rome,
and again to tarry at Lyons with a friend in whom he could better
trust, the Primate of all the Gauls.[1678] The request was refused.
Urban had still to make use of Anselm for his own purposes. He had to
show his guest and the Church’s confessor――the guest and confessor
whom he had sold for William’s gold――to the whole world in his Lateran
Council. The special honours which were there paid to Anselm must have
been felt by him as little more than a mockery. It may have been a
preconcerted scene, it may have been a burst of honest indignation,
when Reingar, Bishop of Lucca, bore an emphatic witness on Anselm’s
side. Reingar, chosen on account of his lofty stature and sounding
voice to announce the decrees of the Council, broke forth in words of
his own declaring the holiness and the wrongs of the Archbishop of the
English, and thrice smote his staff on the floor with quivering lips
and teeth gnashed together.[1679] The Pope checked him; Reingar
protested, and renewed his protest. Anselm simply wondered; he had
never said a word to the Bishop of Lucca on any such matter, nor did
he believe that any of his faithful followers had done so
either.[1680]
[Sidenote: End of the Council.]
[Sidenote: Anselm goes to Lyons.]
[Sidenote: Death of Urban. July. 29, 1099.]
[Sidenote: William’s words on his death.]
[Sidenote: Battle of Ascalon. August 12, 1099.]
[Sidenote: Paschal the Second, Pope. August 13, 1099-January 21,
1118.]
[Sidenote: William’s words on Paschal’s election.]
The council broke up. The great general anathema was pronounced which
would take in William along with the other princes of the earth;[1681]
but nothing was said or done directly for Anselm or his cause.[1682]
Anselm now at last left Rome for Lyons. He there heard of the deaths
both of him who was to issue the excommunication and of him against
whom it was to be issued. Urban did not live to hear how his preaching
at Clermont was crowned by the deliverance of the Holy City. Yet the
work was done while he still lived. Fourteen days after the storm of
Jerusalem, seven days after the election of King Godfrey, Pope Urban
died. The news of his death was brought to William while he was in the
midst of his last warfare for Le Mans. Let God’s hate, he answered, be
upon him who cares whether he be dead or alive.[1683] Fourteen days
after Urban’s death, the hosts of Egypt were smitten at Ascalon; and
the city which had just been won was again made safe. The next day a
fresh Pope was chosen, Paschal, who, in the course of a long reign,
had to strive alike with a Henry of Germany and with a Henry of
England. The news of his election was brought to William, and he asked
what manner of man the new Pope might be. He was told that he was a
man in many things like Archbishop Anselm. “Then by God’s face,” said
the Red King, “if he be such an one, he is no good.” But William felt
that his wished for time was now come. Now at least there should be no
trouble about acknowledging Popes against his will. “Let the Pope be
what he will, he and his popedom shall not this time come over me by
little and little. I have got my freedom again, and I will use
it.”[1684] The time fixed for the excommunication passed unmarked over
the head of the living Rufus. But before a full year had passed from
Paschal’s election, the dead Rufus was excommunicated by the voice of
his own kingdom.
* * * * *
We leave Anselm at Lyons; we shall meet him again when he comes back
in all honour to crown and to marry a king and a queen who filled the
English throne by the free call of the English people. Meanwhile we
must take up the thread of our story, and see more fully what has been
happening in the other lands which come within the Red King’s world,
while Anselm was so long and so wearily striving for righteousness.
The tale of Normandy, the tale of Jerusalem, so far as it concerned us
to tell it, could hardly be kept apart from the tale of Anselm. But we
have still to tell the tale of Scotland, of Northumberland, of Wales,
of France, above all the tale of Maine and its noble Count, during the
years through which we have tracked the history of Anselm. We have to
go back to the beginning of the story through which we have just
passed, and to begin afresh while Rufus in his short day of penitence
lies on his sick-bed at Gloucester.
[1] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 692.
[2] Will. Malms. iv. 306.
[3] Tac. Hist. iv. 59.
[4] There is not much to say about the authorities for this
chapter. The main sources are those with which we have long
been familiar, the Peterborough Chronicle, Orderic,
Florence, William of Malmesbury. The last three of these
increase in value at every step, as they become more and
more strictly contemporary. So Henry of Huntingdon,
beginning his seventh book in the second year of Rufus,
formally puts on the character of a contemporary writer.
Hitherto he had written from his reading or from common
fame; “nunc autem de his quæ vel ipsi vidimus, vel ab his
qui viderant audivimus, pertractandum est.” But he still
wisely kept the Chronicle before him. He is himself largely
followed by Robert of Torigny (or _De Monte_――that is Abbot
of Saint Michael’s Mount) in his chronicle. From Robert we
have also the so-called eighth book of William of Jumièges,
which may pass as a History of Henry the First. He is not
strictly contemporary for any part of our immediate story.
Eadmer, so precious a few years later, gives us as yet only
a few touches and general pictures. The French riming
chroniclers are of some value later in the reign of Rufus;
but we have hardly anything to do with them as yet. A crowd
of accessory, occasional, and local writings have to be
turned to as usual.
[5] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 583.
[6] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 228, 795. So Will. Neub. i. 3;
“Filiorum quidem Willelmi Magni ordine nativitatis
novissimus, sed prærogativa primus. Quippe, aliis in ducatu
patris natis, solus ipse ex eodem jam rege est ortus.” This
is noteworthy in a writer in whom (see Appendix A) we see
the first sign of a notion of Robert’s hereditary right. The
author of the Brevis Relatio (9) goes yet further, and seems
to assert that a party at least was for Henry’s immediate
succession; “Sicut postea multi dixerunt, justum fuit ut
ipse rex Angliæ post patrem suum esset qui de patre rege et
matre regina genitus extitisset.”
[7] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 706, note 3.
[8] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 706, note 3.
[9] See Appendix A.
[10] See Appendix A.
[11] Will. Malms. iv. 305. “Eum nutrierat et militem
fecerat.” So Matthew Paris, Hist. Ang. i. 35.
[12] Orderic has two statements as to the port from which
William set sail. In his account of the Conqueror’s death
(659 D), he makes him sail from Witsand. But afterwards (763
D), when speaking of Robert Bloet, he says, “Senioris
Guillelmi capellanus fuerat, eoque defuncto de portu Tolochæ
cum juniore Guillelmo mare transfretaverat, et epistolam
regis de coronanda prole Lanfranco archiepiscopo detulerat.”
This latter is to be preferred, as the more circumstantial
account. Touques moreover is at once the more likely haven
to be chosen by one setting out from Rouen, and the one less
likely to come into the head of a careless narrator. Robert
of Torigny also (Cont. Will. Gem. viii. 2) makes the place
Touques.
[13] Ord. Vit. 659 D. “Ibi jam patrem audivit obiisse.”
[14] Fl. Wig. 1087. “Willelmus … Angliam festinato adiit,
ducens secum Wlnothum et Morkarum.”
[15] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 517.
[16] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 315.
[17] Fl. Wig. 1087. “Robertus … Ulfum, Haroldi quondam regis
Anglorum filium, Dunechaldumque regis Scottorum Malcolmi
filium a custodia laxatos et armis militaribus honoratos,
abire permisit.”
[18] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 76.
[19] Flor. Wig. 1087. “Mox ut Wintoniam venit, illos, ut
prius fuerant, custodiæ mancipavit.”
[20] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 855. The Winchester Annals (1087;
Ann. Mon. ii. 35) give him, like Prior Godfrey, the title of
Earl, and say that he was not released at all. The Conqueror
releases all his prisoners in England and Normandy “exceptis
duobus comitibus Rogero et Wlnodo.” These three captives are
joined together in the signatures to an alleged charter of
Bishop William of Saint-Calais in the Monasticon, i. 237,
and in the Surtees volume, Hist. Dun. Scriptt. Tres, v, of
which I may have to speak again; “Morkaro et Rogerio
[clearly meant for Roger of Hereford] et Siwardo cognomento
Bran et Wlnoto Haraldi regis germano.” They are made to
sign, along with Abbot Æthelwig, who died in 1077, in a
Council in London in 1082. The whole thing is clearly
spurious; but what put the signatures of the captives into
anybody’s head?
[21] See Appendix A.
[22] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 13 Selden. “Quantus autem mœror
Lanfrancum ex morte ejus perculerit quis dicere possit,
quando nos qui circa illum nuncia morte illius eramus,
statim eum præ cordis angustia mori timeremus?” This seems
to imply that the news reached Lanfranc when he had his
monks about him, that is at Canterbury.
[23] William of Malmesbury (iv. 305) marks the coronation as
being done “die sanctorum Cosmæ et Damiani.” In the
Chronicle it is “þreom dagum ǽr Michaeles mæssedæg;” while
Florence simply gives the day of the month. Wace (14482)
says inaccurately “Li jor de feste saint Michiel;” and the
Chronicon de Bello (40) still more inaccurately, “in
nativitate Christi, intrante anno incarnationis ejusdem
Verbi Dei mlxxxviii.”
[24] See Appendix A.
[25] Chron. Petrib. 1087. “Ealle þa men on Englalande him to
abugon, and him aðas sworon.”
[26] Chron. Petrib. 1087. “Ðisum þus gedone, se cyng ferde
to Winceastre, and sceawode þæt madmehus, and þa gersuman þe
his fæder ǽr gegaderode, þa wæron unasecgendlice ænie man hu
mycel þær wæs gegaderod, on golde and on seolfre and on
faton and on pællan and on gimman and on manige oðre
deorwurðe þingon þe earfoðe sindon to ateallene.” Yet Henry
of Huntingdon (p. 211) knew the exact amount of the silver,
sixty thousand pounds, one doubtless for each knight’s fee.
[27] Florence brings in the books in a list of gifts which
is longer than that of the Chronicler; “Cruces, altaria,
scrinia, _textos_, candelabra, situlas, fistulas, ac
ornamenta varia gemmis, auro, argento, lapidibusque
pretiosis, redimita, per ecclesias digniores ac monasteria
jussit dividi.”
[28] Chron. de Bello, 40. “Regni diadema suscepit. Quod
adeptus, paterni mandati non immemor, patris pallium regale
et feretrum unde supra meminimus, cum cccᵗⁱˢ philacteriis,
sanctorum pignorum excellentia gloriosis, ecclesiæ beati
Martini quantocius delegavit, quæ simul apud Bellum viii
Kalendas Novembris suscepta sunt.”
[29] The Chronicler says, “to ælcen cyrcean uppe land lx.
pæǹ.” But Florence limits it; “ecclesiis in civitatibus vel
villis suis per singulas denarios lx. dari.”
[30] Chron. Petrib. 1087. “Into ælcere scire man seonde
hundred punda feos, to dælanne earme mannan for his saule.”
[31] Flor. Wig. 1087. “Ejus quoque germanus Rotbertus in
Normanniam reversus, thesauros quos invenerat monasteriis,
ecclesiis, pauperibus, pro anima patris sui largiter
divisit.”
[32] Chron Petrib. 1087. “Se cyng wæs on þam midewintre on
Lundene.” So Henry of Huntingdon (211); “Rex novus curiam
suam ad Natale tenuit apud Lundoniam.” He adds a list of
bishops who were present. There were the two Archbishops,
Maurice of London, Walkelin of Winchester, Geoffrey [it
should be Osbern] of Exeter, William of Thetford, Robert of
Chester, William of Durham, as also “Wlnod [sic] episcopus
sanctus Wirecestriæ.” On the presence of Odo, see Appendix
B. Robert of Torigny (1087) writes “Vulnof.” I cannot see
much in his editor’s suggestion that the Geoffrey spoken of
is the Bishop of Coutances, because the so-called Bromton,
of all people, has made a blunder about him; X Scriptt. 984.
[33] N. C. vol. iv. p. 708.
[34] Ord. Vit. 664 D. “Totum in Normannia pristinum honorem
adeptus est, et consiliarius ducis, videlicet nepotis sui,
factus est.”
[35] Will. Malms, iv. 305. “Claves thesaurorum nactus est;
quibus fretus totam Angliam animo subjecit suo.”
[36] Ib. “Reliquo hiemis quiete et favorabiliter vixit.”
[37] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “On þisum geare wæs þis land swiðe
astirad, and mid mycele swicdome afylled; swa þæt þa riceste
Frencisce men þe weron innan þrisan lande wolden swican
heore hlaforde þam cynge, and woldon habban his broðer to
cynge, Rodbeard, þe wæs eorl on Normandige.” The duty of
faithfulness to the lord, whoever he may be, is always
strongly felt; still William Rufus is only “heora hlaford se
cyng,” not “heora cynehlaford.” But the notion that Robert
had any special right as the eldest son seems not to have
come into any purely English mind of that age.
[38] He appears in the list given by Henry of Huntingdon
(see above, p. 19) as “justiciarius et princeps totius
Angliæ.” Simeon of Durham (1088) calls him “secundus rex.”
[39] See Florence, 1081; Sim. Dun. Hist. Eccl. Dun. iv. 1.
[40] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 674.
[41] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Swa wæll dyde se cyng be þam
bisceop þæt eall Englaland færde æfter his ræde and swa swa
he wolde.” So Florence; “Ea tempestate rex prædictus illius,
ut veri consiliarii, fruebatur prudentia; bene enim
sapiebat, ejusque consiliis totius Angliæ tractabatur
respublica.” Cf. Ann. Wint. 1088. “Episcopus Willelmus
Dunelmensis, qui paulo ante quasi cor regis erat.”
[42] Will. Malms, iv. 306. “Immortale in eum [Lanfrancum]
odium anhelans, quod ejus consilio a fratre se in vincula
conjectum asserebat.”
[43] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 680.
[44] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “And þæs unræd wearð gewesen innan
þam Lengtene.” So Florence; “Pars nobiliorum Normannorum
favebat regi Willelmo, sed minima; pars vero altera favebat
Roberto comiti Normannorum, et maxima; cupiens hunc sibi
adsciscere in regnum, fratrem vero aut fratri tradere vivum
aut regno privare peremptum.” Here is the end of a
hexameter.
[45] See Appendix B.
[46] Ord. Vit. 665 D. “Optimates utriusque _regni_
conveniunt, et de duobus _regnis_ nunc divisis, quæ manus
una pridem tenuerat, tractare satagunt.” Cf. the language
used at an earlier time about Normandy, N. C. vol. i. p.
221.
[47] Ib. 666 A. “Labor nobis ingens subito crevit, et maxima
diminutio potentiæ nostræ opumque nobis incumbuit…. Violenta
nobis orta est mutatio et nostræ sublimitatis repentina
dejectio.” It is now that he makes the flourish about
“Saxones Angli” (see N. C. vol. i. p. 542); there is also a
good deal about Jeroboam and Polyneikês.
[48] Ib. “Quomodo duobus dominis tam diversis, et tam longe
ab invicem remotis competenter servire poterimus?”
[49] Ib. B, C. “Inviolabile fœdus firmiter ineamus, et
Guillelmo rege dejecto vel interfecto, qui junior est et
protervus, et cui nihil debemus, Robertum ducem, qui major
natu est et tractabilior moribus, et cui jamdudum vivente
patre amborum fidelitatem juravimus, principem Angliæ ac
Neustriæ ad servandam unitatem utriusque regni
constituamus.”
[50] Ib. C. “Decretum suum Roberto duci detexuit. Ille vero,
utpote levis et inconsideratus, valde gavisus est promissis
inutilibus, seseque spopondit eis, si inchoarent, affaturum
in omnibus, et collaturum mox efficax auxilium ad
perpetrandum tam clarum fecimus.”
[51] See Appendix B.
[52] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 710.
[53] Will. Malms. iv. 306. “Multos eodem susurro infecit
[Odo]; Roberto regnum competere, qui sit et remissioris
animi, et juveniles stultitias multis jam laboribus
decoxerit; hunc delicate nutritum, animi ferocia (quam
vultus ipse demonstret), prætumidum, omnia contra fas et jus
ausurum; brevi futurum ut honores jamdudum plurimis
sudoribus partos amittant; _nihil actum morte patris_, si
quos ille vinxerit iste trucidet.” (Again the ending of a
hexameter.) A good deal of this seems to come from later
experience of Rufus.
[54] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “þæs unræd wærð geræd.”
[55] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 276, 580, 673.
[56] See Appendix C.
[57] “He þohte to donne be him eall swa Iudas Scarioð dide
be ure Drihtene.”
[58] “Se bisceop of Dunholme dyde to hearme þæt he mihte
ofer eall be norðan.”
[59] See Appendix C.
[60] Mon. Angl. i. 248. “Monstrabo quod Dorobernium et
Hastingas, quæ jam pene perdiderat, in sua fidelitate
detinui, Londoniam quoque quæ jam rebellaverat, in ejus
fidelitate sedavi, meliores etiam duodecim ejusdem urbis
cives ad eum mecum duxi, ut per illos melius ceteros
animaret.”
[61] Mon. Angl. i. 247. “Ipse [rex] te summonuit ut cum eo
equitares; tu vero respondisti ei, te cum septem militibus
quos ibi habebas libenter iturum, et pro pluribus ad
castellum tuum sub festinatione missurum, et postea fugisti
de curia sua sine ejus licentia, et quosdam de familia sua
tecum adduxisti, et ita in necessitate sua sibi defecisti.”
[62] See Appendix C.
[63] Mon. Angl. i. 245. “Præsto sum in curia vestra vobis
justitiam facere convenienti termino, securitate veniendi
accepta.” Cf. N. C. vol. ii. pp. 149, 150.
[64] Mon. Angl. i. 245. “Non est enim omnium hominum
episcopos judicare, et ego vobis secundum ordinem meum omnem
justitiam offero; et si ad præsens vultis habere servitium
meum vel hominum meorum, illud idem secundum placere vestrum
vobis offero.”
[65] Ib. “Rex acceptis et auditis istis litteris episcopi,
dedit baronibus suis terras episcopi, vidente legato quem
sibi miserat episcopus.” I suppose that these barons are no
other than the Counts Alan and Odo, of whose share in the
matter we shall hear much more as we go on.
[66] See Ellis, i. 464. It is there remarked that Ralph’s
lands in Devonshire had largely been Merleswegen’s. This is
equally true in Yorkshire. He must have succeeded Hugh the
son of Baldric as sheriff. See N. C. vol. iv. p. 801.
[67] See the foundation charter in the Monasticon, iv. 682;
though it is hard to understand how Pope Alexander could
have confirmed anything in 1089. According to the charter,
the church had once been held by a body of canons, which had
come to nothing. Ralph now restored it as a Benedictine
monastery, a cell to Marmoutiers.
[68] “Præcepit omnibus regis fidelibus de parte regis ut
malum facerent episcopo ubicumque et quomodo cumque possent.
Cumque episcopus per se vel per legatos suos regem non
posset requirere, et terras suas destrui et vastari absque
ulla ultione per vii. septimanas et amplius sustineret,”
etc.
[69] Their absence from the assembly comes from Florence;
“Execrabile hoc factum clam tractaverunt in quadragesima,
quod cito in palam prorumpi posset post pascha; nam a regali
se subtrahentes curia, munierunt castella, ferrum, flammam,
prædas, necem, excitaverunt in patriam.” Cf. Orderic, 666 C;
“Munitiones suas fossis et hominibus, atque alimentis
hominum et equorum, abundanter instruebant.”
[70] On Count Robert, see N. C. vol. ii. p. 296; iv. pp. 78,
168, 170. His name does not now occur in the Chronicles, nor
in Orderic, who does not mention the siege of his castle of
Pevensey. But his action comes out strongly in Florence, who
classes him with Odo as a leader, though in his narrative he
appears merely as his tool. The Hyde writer (297) also
dwells fully on his share in the work, but he has no special
facts or legends.
[71] See N. C. vol. iii. pp. 117, 672; iv. pp. 39, 562, 825.
[72] In Orderic, 667 B, he appears as “Rogerius Merciorum
comes.”
[73] Flor. Wig. 1088. “Rogerius de Laceio, qui jam super
regem invaserat Herefordam.” He appears in Domesday in
Berkshire, Gloucestershire, Worcestershire, Shropshire, but
most largely in Herefordshire. See Ellis, i. 442.
[74] See N. C. vol. ii. pp. 138, 352.
[75] Ib. vol. iii. p. 132; iv. p. 448.
[76] Ib. vol. iii. p. 737.
[77] Ib. vol. iii. p. 233.
[78] Ord. Vit. 666 D. See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 74, 489.
[79] See below, p. 36.
[80] See his picture in Orderic, 703 B. “Præfatus præsul
nobilitate cluebat, magisque peritia militari quam clericali
vigebat. Ideoque loricatos milites ad bellandum quam
revestitos clericos ad psallendum magis erudire noverat.”
[81] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 672. Orderic gives his portrait
along with that of his uncle; “Robertus Rogerii de Molbraio
filius potentia divitiisque admodum pollebat, audacia et
militari feritate superbus pares despiciebat, et
superbioribus obtemperare, vana ventositate turgidus,
indignum autumabat. Erat erim corpore magnus, fortis, niger
et hispidus, audax et dolosus, vultu tristis et severus.
Plus meditari quam loqui studebat, et vix in confabulatione
ridebat.”
[82] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Swiðe mycel folc mid heom, ealle
Frencisce men.” He must mean that all the leaders were
French. We shall see (see below, p. 47) that there were both
Englishmen and Britons in the rebel army.
[83] Flor. Wig. 1088.
[84] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Roger hét an of heom se hleop
into þam castele æt Norðwic, and dyde git eallra wærst ofer
eall þæt land.” He is “Rogerius Bigot” in William of
Malmesbury. We shall find him behaving better later in our
story.
[85] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 68, 590.
[86] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Hugo eac an þe hit ne gebette nan
þing, ne innan Lægreceastrescire ne innan Norðamtune.” He is
“Hugo de Grentemesnil” in William of Malmesbury. See N. C.
vol. iv. pp. 74, 232.
[87] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 226.
[88] Ib. p. 382.
[89] Gesta Stephani, 41. “Totius Angliæ noverca Bristoa.”
[90] Simeon of Durham (1088) speaks of the “castellum
fortissimum” at this time.
[91] Gesta Steph. 36. “Est Bristoa civitas … ipso situ loci
omnium civitatum Angliæ munitissima. Sicut enim de Brundusio
legimus, quædam provinciæ Glaornensis pars ad formam linguæ
restricta, et in longum protensa, duobus fluviis gemina ejus
latera proluentibus, inque inferiori parte, ubi ipsa terra
defectum patitur, in unam aquarum abundantiam coeuntibus,
efficit civitatem.”
[92] One might quote nearer instances in the streams which
flow out of Mendip; only they have their _katabothra_ at the
beginning.
[93] Gesta Steph. u. s. “Viva quoque et fortis maris
exæstuatio, noctibus et diebus abundanter exundans, ex
ambabus civitatis partibus fluvios ipsos in latum et
profundum pelagus regurgitare in seipsos cogit, portumque
mille carinis habillimum et tutissimum efficiens, ambitum
illius adeo prope et conjuncte constringit ut tota civitas
aquis innatare, tota super ripas considere videatur.”
[94] In what was the castle green is a very pretty
undercroft of early thirteenth century work, most likely the
support of a chapel.
[95] The course of the stream and the line of the walls have
been altered more than once; but the description in the
Gesta Stephani of the peninsula, as long and tongue-shaped,
shows that the Frome cannot, when that was written, have
taken the line of the present Baldwin Street. The town was
on the peninsula, but it covered only the north-east part of
it.
[96] Gesta Steph. “Ex una tamen ejus regione ubi ad
obsidendum opportunior magisque pervia habetur, castellum
plurimo aggere exaltatum, muro et propugnaculis, turribus,
et diversis machinis firmatum, impugnantium coercet
accessus.” This is doubtless equally true in its measure of
the state of things in 1088; but there is not now much sign
of the “plurimus agger.” The old prints of Bristol show Earl
Robert’s keep, a square tower of the best class.
[97] The description of the later occupation of Bristol
(Gesta Steph. p. 37) will serve equally for this earlier
one. “E diversis siquidem provinciis et regionibus emersi,
tanto illic abundantius et gratulantius affuerunt, quanto
sub divite domino ex munitissimo castello, quicquid
libentium animo occurreret, in uberrima committere Anglia
fuit eis permissum.”
[98] His estates in Somerset are very large. See Domesday,
87 _a_ et seqq. In Gloucestershire (165) he appears as
“Episcopus de Sancto Laudo”――the older seat of the bishopric
of Coutances.
[99] Domesday, 163. Under “Bertune apud Bristou,” now Barton
Regis, we read, “Hoc manerium et Bristou reddit regi c. et
x. markas argenti. Burgenses dicunt quod episcopus G. habet
xxxiii. markas argenti et unam markam auri propter firmam
regis.” This looks like the Earl’s third penny; but Geoffrey
certainly had no formal earldom in Gloucestershire.
[100] This is Camden’s conjecture; it does not greatly
matter for my purpose.
[101] See above, p. 33.
[102] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Gosfrid bisceop and Rodbeard a
Mundbræg ferdon to Bricgstowe and hergodon, and brohton to
þam castele þa hergunge.” So Florence; “Gosfridus episcopus
Constantiensis, in castello Brycstowa, socium conjurationis
et perfidiæ habebat secum nepotem suum Rotbertum de
Mulbraio, virum gnarum militiæ.”
[103] In the song in the Chronicles, 973, Eadgar is crowned
“On þaere ealdan byrig,
Acemannes ceastre,
Eac hie egbuend.
Oþre worde
Beornas Baðan nemnað.”
In the prose entries in Worcester and Peterborough this is
done “at Hatabaðum.”
[104] See Richard of the Devizes, 62. “Bathonia, in imis
vallium, in crasso nimis aere et vapore sulphureo posita,
imo deposita, est ad portas inferi.”
[105] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 385.
[106] Mr. Earle has, I think, made it morally certain that
the Old-English poem on a ruined city in the Codex
Exoniensis refers to Bath. It is a pity that his account is
hidden in the Proceedings of the Bath Natural History and
Antiquarian Field Club, vol. ii. no. 3, 1872.
[107] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 310.
[108] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “And syððon foron út of þam
castele and hergodon Baðon, and eall þæt land þær abutan.”
Florence adds the burning; “Rotbertus … congregato exercitu
invasit Bathoniam, civitatem regiam, eamque igne succendit.”
[109] Flor. Wig. 1088. “Illa [Bathonia] deprædata, transivit
in Wiltusciram, villasque depopulans, multorumque hominum
strage facta, tandem adiit Givelceastram, obsedit, et
expugnare disposuit.”
[110] Geveltone, now Yeovilton, was held by one Ralph under
William of Eu (Domesday, 96 _b_). Givele, now Yeovil, was
held by Count Robert (Domesday, 93). All these names come in
various corruptions from the river Givel or Ivel, also
called Yeo. Only in _Yeovil_ we may trace a bit of false
etymology, which has also set the pattern to Yeovilton.
[111] I took with me to Ilchester a book by the Rev. W.
Buckler, “Ilchester Almshouse Deeds” (Yeovil, 1866), which
contains the accounts of Ilchester from Leland, Camden, and
Stukeley, together with Stukeley’s map. The last-named
writer may have drawn somewhat on his imagination; but I
could trace the line of the walls, represented in a great
part of their course by modern buildings. Under the
circumstances of the site, the usual _carfax_ is not to be
found at Ilchester, any more than at Godmanchester.
[112] Domesday, 86 _a_. “In Givelcestre sunt 107 burgenses,
reddentes xx. solidos. Mercatum cum suis appendiciis reddit
xi. libras.”
[113] Flor. Wig. 1088. “Pugnant exterius spe capti prædæ et
amore victoriæ, repugnant intrinsecus acriter pro se
suorumque salute. Tandem inter utrumque necessitatis vicit
causa; repulsus et tristis recedit Rotbertus privatus
victoria.” The Chronicle and William of Malmesbury do not
speak of Ilchester. William thus sums up the campaign;
“Gaufridus episcopus, cum nepote, Bathoniam et Bercheleiam
partemque pagi Wiltensis depopulans, manubias apud Bristou
collocabat.”
[114] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 144.
[115] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “And eall Beorclea hyrnesse hi
awæston.” Florence more fully; “Willelmus de Owe
Glawornensem invadit comitatum, regiam villam deprædatur
Beorchelaum, per totam ferro et flamma grande perpetrat
malum.”
[116] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 557.
[117] See Domesday, 164. But it had already given a name to
Roger and Ralph of Berkeley; Domesday, 168. From Roger’s
descendants it passed by marriage to Robert the son of
Harding. See N. C. vol. iv. p. 758.
[118] Domesday, 163. “In Nesse [Sharpness] sunt v. hidæ
pertinentes ad Berchelai quos W. comes misit extra ad
faciendum unum castellulum.”
[119] Since I wrote the fourth volume of the Norman
Conquest, there has been much controversy about the origin
of Robert Fitz-Harding. (See Notes and Queries, Jan. 3rd,
1880.) I am confirmed on the whole in my old belief that he
was the son of Harding the son of Eadnoth.
[120] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 590, 855.
[121] See above, p. 33.
[122] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Þa men þe yldest wæron of
Hereforde, and eall þeo scír forþmid, and þa men of
Scrobscyre mid mycele folce of Brytlande.”
[123] See above, p. 33.
[124] Flor. Wig. 1088. “Cum hominibus comitis Rogerii de
Scrobbesbyria.” Yet the Chronicler says distinctly, “And
Rogere eorl wæs eac æt þam unræde.” That is, he joined in
the conspiracy, but did not take a personal share in the
war.
[125] See above, p. 35, note 3.
[126] Flor. Wig. 1088. “Congregato magno Anglorum,
Normannorum, et Walensium exercitu.”
[127] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 395.
[128] Ib. vol. i. p. 520.
[129] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Þa men … comon and hergodon and
þærndon on Wiðreceastrescire forð, and hi comon to þam porte
sylfan, and woldon þa þæne port bærnen, and þæt mynster
reafian, and þæs cynges castel gewinnan heom to handa.”
Florence adds, “grandem de regis incolis fidelibus sumpturos
vindictam.” On the deliverance of Worcester, see Appendix D.
[130] Florence brings in his own Bishop with a panegyric;
“Vir magnæ pietatis et columbinæ simplicitatis, Deo
populoque quern regebat in omnibus amabilis, regi, ut
terreno domino, per omnia fidelis, pater reverendus
Wlstanus.” In the Chronicle he is simply “se arwurða bisceop
Wlfstan.” He goes on to make his exhortation after the
manner of Moses.
[131] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 61.
[132] Ib. vol. iv. p. 579.
[133] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 174.
[134] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 379.
[135] Ib.
[136] Flor. Wig. 1088. “Normanni interim, ineuntes
consilium, rogant ipsum episcopum ut ab ecclesia transiret
in castellam, tutiores se affirmantes de ejus præsentia, si
majus incumberet periculum; diligebant enim eum valde. Ipse
enim, ut erat miræ mansuetudinis, et pro regis fidelitate,
_et pro eorum dilectione_, petitioni eorum adquievit.”
[137] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 174.
[138] Flor. Wig. u. s. “Interea audenter in arma se parat
episcopalis familia.” On the nature of this “familia,” see
N. C. vol. v. p. 496.
[139] Ib. “Inter quos [hostes] magna belli jam fervebat
insania; contumaciter enim episcopi contemnentes mandata, in
terram ipsius posuerunt incendia.” On the order of events,
see Appendix D.
[140] Ib. “Conveniunt castellani et omnis civium turma,
occurrere se affirmant hostibus ex altera parte Sabrinæ
fluminis, si hoc eis pontificis annueret licentia. Parati
igitur et armis instructi, ipsum ad castellum euntem habent
obviam, quam optabant requirunt licentiam; quibus libentur
annuens, ‘Ite,’ inquit, ‘filii, ite in pace, ite securi, cum
Dei et nostra benedictione.’ Confidens ego in Domino,
spondeo vobis, non hodie nocebit vobis gladius, non quicquam
infortunii, non quisquam adversarius. State in regis
fidelitate, viriliter agentes pro populi urbisque salute.”
[141] Ib. “Episcopus ingenti concutitur dolore, videns
debilitari res ecclesiæ, acceptoque inde consilio, gravi
eos, ab omnibus qui circumaderant coactus, percussit
anathemate.” See Appendix D.
[142] Ib. “Alacres pontem reparatum transeunt, hostes de
longinquo accelerantes conspiciunt.”
[143] See Appendix D.
[144] Flor. Wig. u. s. “Cæduntur pedites, capiuntur milites,
cum Normannis tam Angli quam Walenses, cæteris vero vix
debili elapsis fuga [were the ‘milites’ spared for the sake
of ransom?] regis fideles cum pontificis familia, exultantes
in gaudio, sine ulla diminutione suorum, redeunt ad propria;
gratias Deo referunt de rerum ecclesiæ incolumitate, gratias
episcopo referunt de consilii ejus salubritate.”
[145] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 386.
[146] Chron. Petrib, 1088. “Þe wæs ærur heafod to þam
unræde.”
[147] See above, p. 29.
[148] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Ðe bisceop Odo, þe þas cyng of
awocan, ferde into Cent to his earldome and fordyde hit
swyðe, and þæs cynges land and þæs arcebisceopes mid ealle
aweston, and brohte eall þæt gód into his castele on
Hrofeceastre.” This follows at once on the accounts of Roger
the Bigod and Hugh of Grantmesnil. So William of Malmesbury,
who here brings in the story of Lanfranc’s share in Odo’s
imprisonment in 1082, in order to account for Odo’s special
hatred towards the Archbishop.
[149] See N. C. vol. i. pp. 267, 296. On the early history
of Rochester generally, see Mr. Hartshorne’s paper in the
Archæological Journal, September, 1863.
[150] This is brought out by Orderic, 667 B; “Oppidum igitur
Rovecestræ sollicita elegerunt provisione, quoniam, si rex
eos non obsedisset in urbe, in medio positi laxis habenis
Lundoniam et Cantuariam devastarent, et per mare, quod
proximum est, insulasque vicinas, pro auxiliis conducendis
nuntios cito dirigerent.” The islands must be Sheppey and
Thanet.
[151] See the siege of Rochester in 1215 and his defence by
William of Albini in Roger of Wendover, iii. 333.
[152] For the siege of 1264 see W. Rishanger, Chron. p. 25
(Camd. Soc.). On Simon’s military engines he remarks that
the Earl “exemplum relinquens Anglicis qualiter circa
castrorum assultationes agendum sit, qui penitus hujusmodi
diebus illis fuerant ignari.” A forerunner of Kanarês, he
had a fire-ship in the river; he also used mines, as the
Conqueror had done at Exeter.
[153] Mr. Hartshorne showed distinctly that the present
tower of Rochester was not built by Gundulf, but by William
of Corbeuil. See the passages which he quotes from Gervase,
X Scriptt. 1664, and the continuator of Florence, 1126. But
we have seen (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 366) that Gundulf did
build a stone castle at Rochester for William Rufus
(“castrum Hrofense lapidum”), and we should most naturally
look for it on the site of the later one. On the other hand,
there is a tower, seemingly of Gundulf’s building and of a
military rather than an ecclesiastical look, which is now
almost swallowed up between the transepts of the cathedral.
But it would be strange if a tower built for the King stood
in the middle of the monastic precinct.
[154] The odd position of the cloister at Rochester suggests
the notion that Gundulf’s church occupied only the site of
the present eastern limb, and that the later Norman nave was
an enlargement rather than a rebuilding.
[155] Domesday, 2 _b_. “Episcopus de Rouecestre pro excambio
terræ in qua castellum sedet, tantum de hac terra tenet quod
xvii.s. et iv.d. valet.” This is said of land at Aylesford;
but the castle spoken of must surely be that of Rochester.
The Domesday phrase “sedet” seems beautifully to describe
either the massive square donjon or the shell-keep on the
mound; yet it may be doubted whether Rochester had either in
the Conqueror’s day.
[156] This ditch is said to have been traced right across
the middle of the cathedral, with the twelfth-century nave
to the west of it. I can say nothing either way from my own
observation; but such an extension of the church to the west
would exactly answer to the extension of the churches of Le
Mans and Lincoln to the east. In both those cases the Roman
wall had to give way.
[157] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 367.
[158] Ord. Vit. 667 A. “Tunc Odo Bajocensis cum quingentis
militibus intra Rofensem urbem se conclusit, ibique Robertum
ducem cum suis auxiliaribus secundum statuta quæ pepigerant
præstolari proposuit.” The last clause of course implies the
supposed earlier agreement with Duke Robert, on which see
above, p. 25, and Appendix B.
[159] Flor. Wig. 1088. “Rumore autem percussus insolito,
comes exultat, amicis nunciat, quasi jam de victoria securus
triumphat, plures ad prædam incitat; Odoni episcopo, patruo
suo, auxiliarios in Angliam legat, se quantocius, congregato
majori exercitu, secuturum affirmat.”
[160] Ib. “Prædictus episcopus Baiocensis, munita
Roveceastra, misit Normanniam, exhortans comitem Rotbertum
cito venire in Angliam, nuntians ei rem gestam, affirmans
paratum sibi regnum, et si sibi non desisteret, paratam et
coronam.”
[161] Ib. “Missi a comite Rotberto venerunt in Angliam, ab
Odone episcopo ad custodiendum receperunt Roveceastram; et
horum ut primates Eustatius junior, comes Bononiæ, et
Rotbertus de Beleasmo gerebant curam.” Here we have (see
Appendix B) the true moment of their coming. From this point
we may accept the account in Orderic (667 B); “Prædictum
oppidum Odo præsul et Eustachius comes atque Robertus
Bellesmensis, cum multis nobilibus viris et mediocribus,
tenebant, auxiliumque Roberti ducis, qui desidia mollitieque
detinebatur, frustra exspectabant.” We meet them again in
765 B.
[162] “Eustatius junior,” “Eustatius þe iunga.” See N. C.
vol. iv. p. 745.
[163] They are mentioned in the Chronicle along with the
incidental mention of Eustace; “Innan þam castele wæron
swiðe gode cnihtas, Eustatius þe iunga, and Rogeres eorles
þreo sunan, and ealle þa betstboren men þe wæron innan þisan
lande oððe on Normandige.” This is followed by William of
Malmesbury (iv. 306); “Erat tunc apud Roveceastram omnis
pene juventutis ex Anglia et Normannia nobilitas; tres filii
Rogerii comitis, et Eustachius Bononiæ junior, _multique
alii quos infra curam nostram existimo_.”
[164] The three sons of Earl Roger can hardly fail to be his
three eldest sons (see Will. Gem. vii. 16; Ord. Vit. 708 D),
Robert, Hugh, and Roger, all of whom figure in our story.
Arnulf does not appear in English history till later, and
Philip the clerk does not appear at all. Geoffrey Gaimar
(Chron. Ang. Norm. i. 35), after setting forth the
possessions of Robert of Bellême, mentions the other three;
but one does not exactly see why he says,
“Le conte Ernulf ert le quarte frère,
Par cors valeit un emperère.”
Cf. Ord. Vit. 708 D, 808 C.
[165] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 488.
[166] See above, p. 33.
[167] Flor. Wig. 1088. “Rogerus fautor Rotberti erat in
castello suo Arundello, comitis prædicti opperiens
adventum.”
[168] See N. C. iv. 66, v. 808.
[169] See Tierney’s History of Arundel, i. 43.
[170] Domesday, 23 “Modo inter burgum et portum aquæ et
consuetudinem navium reddit xii. libras et tamen valet xiii.
libras. De his habet S Nicolaus xxiiii. solidos.” “Clerici
sancti Nicolai” are mentioned again in the next column. The
church then was secular in 1086; but the clerks must have
soon given way to the priory of Saint Nicolas, founded by
Earl Roger himself as a cell to his abbey at Seez; in 1386
it gave way to the college of Arundel.
[171] See N. C. iv. p. 501.
[172] Domesday, 23. “Modo est ipsa civitas in manu comitis
Rogerii.” Here he had one quarter of a Roman _chester_,
while the Bishop had another; yet there were sixty houses
more than there had been T. R. E.
[173] See the customs of Lewes and the rights of William of
Warren in Domesday, 26. The toll on selling a man was
threepence. The two mounds of the castle, the smaller known
as Brack Mount, are rare, perhaps unique. The inner gateway
seems to be of Earl William’s building.
[174] I suspect that the original title of the Earls of
Arundel was Earl of Sussex, and that the name of the castle
came to be used, much as the successors of William of
Warren, strictly Earls of Surrey, are more commonly called
Earls Warren. See more in Tierney’s History of Arundel.
[175] Lucan, iv. 819.
[176] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 161.
[177] Ord. Vit. 666 D. “Rex Guillelmus, ut vidit suos in
terra sua contra se pessima cogitare, et per singula
crebrescentibus malis ad pejora procedere; non meditatus est
ut timida vulpes ad tenebrosas cavernas fugere, sed ut leo
fortis et audax rebellium conatus terribiliter comprimere.”
[178] Will. Malms. iv. 306. “Nec minori astutia Rogerium de
Monte Gomerico, secum dissimulata perfidia equitantem,
circumvenit.”
[179] Ib. “Seorsum enim ducto magnam ingessit invidiam;
dicens, Libenter se imperio cessurum, si illi et aliis
videatur quos pater tutores reliquerat. Non se intelligere
quid ita effrænes sint: si velint, pecunias accipiant pro
libito; si augmentum patrimoniorum, eodem modo; prorsus, quæ
velint, habeant. Tantum videant ne judicium genitoris
periclitetur: quod si de se putaverint aspernandum, de se
ipsis caveant exemplum; idem enim se regem, qui illos duces
fecerit. His verbis comes et pollicitationibus incensus, qui
primus factionis post Odonem signifer fuit, primus defecit.”
Roger of Wendover (ii. 33) adds the words “pœnitentia
ductus.”
[180] Orderic a little later (667 B) says, “Rogerus
Merciorum comes, multique Normannorum, qui cum rege foris
obsidebant, clam adminiculari quantum poterant inclusis
satagebant.”
[181] Orderic (680 C) puts the creation of this earldom
somewhat later, at the Gemót held just before the invasion
of Normandy in 1090. He adds that the new earl died soon
after (“quem paulo post mors nulli parcens e medio rapuit”),
and records his burial at Lewes, and adds his epitaph. There
is no better authority than that of the Hyde writer (298)
for placing the creation at this time or for placing the
Earl’s death a little later (see below, p. 76). But his
narrative is so minute that one would think that he must
have had some kind of ground for it. His words are; “Rex
Willelmus … videns igitur principes regni nutantes et
exercitum a se dilabi, sapienti usus consilio, Willelmum de
Warennia, virum bellicosum, animo ferum et corpore strenuum
famaque præclarum, _in amicitia Asarum_ [what this may mean
I have no notion, but the editor vouches that such is the
reading of the MS.] comitis honore sublimat, multa impendit
multaque promittit.”
[182] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 251.
[183] Ord. Vit. 667 C. “Omnes episcopi Angliæ _cum Anglis_
sine dolo regem juvabant, et pro serena patriæ pace, quæ
bonis semper amabiles est, laborabant.”
[184] The appeal to the English is strongly marked in the
Chronicle; “Ða þe cyng undergeat ealle þas þing and hwilcne
swicdom hi dydon toweard his, þa wearð he on his mode swiðe
gedrefed. Sende þa æfter Englisce mannan, and heom fore sæde
his neode and gyrnde heora fultumes.” Simeon of Durham gives
a free translation quite independent of Florence; “Hoc
audito, rex fecit convocare Anglos, et ostendit eis
traditionem Normannorum, et rogavit ut sibi auxilio essent.”
But the appeal comes out no less strongly in Orderic (666
D); “Lanfrancum archiepiscopum cum suffraganeis præsulibus,
et comites, Anglosque naturales convocavit, et conatus
adversariorum, ac velle suum expugnandi eos indicavit.” The
writ comes from William of Malmesbury, iv. 306; “Ille,
videns Normannos pene omnes in una rabie conspiratos, Anglos
probos et fortes viros, qui adhuc residui erant,
invitatoriis scriptis accersiit.” It is singular that
Florence mentions the English only in an incidental way a
little later; “Congregato quantum ad præsens poterat
Normannorum, sed tamen maxime Anglorum, equestri et
pedestri, licet mediocri, exercitu.” Does the precious
document spoken of by William of Malmesbury still lurk in
any manuscript store?
[185] Chron. Petrib. “And behet heom þa betsta laga þe æfre
ær wæs on þisan lande, and ælc unriht geold he forbead, and
geatte mannan heora wudas and slǽtinge.” William of
Malmesbury (iv. 306) translates, “Bonas leges et tributorum
levamen, liberasque venationes pollicens.” Florence is less
literal; “Statuens leges, promittens fautoribus omnia bona.”
Simeon gives another version; “Eo tenore, ut si in hac
necessitate sibi fideles existerent, meliorem legem quam
vellent eligere eis concederet, et omnem injustum scottum
interdixit, et concessit omnibus silvas suas et venationem.
Sed quicquid promisit, parvo tempore custodivit. Angli tamen
fideliter eum juvabant.”
[186] Flor. Wig. 1088. “Jure regio, militari, ut impiger,
fretus audacia, mittit legatos, vocat quos sibi credit
fidos, vadit Lundoniam, belli tractaturus negotia,
expeditionis provisum, necessaria.”
[187] See above, p. 29.
[188] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Ac Englisce men swa þeah fengon
to þam cynge heora hlaforde on fultume.” The numbers come
from Orderic (667A); “Anglorum triginta millia tunc ad
servitium regis sponte sua convenerunt.”
[189] Ord. Vit. 667 A. “Passim per totum Albionem _impera_,
omnesque rebelles deice regali justitia.”
[190] Ib. “Viriliter age, ut regis filius et legitime ad
regnum assumptus; securus in hoc regno dominare omnibus.”
[191] Ord. Vit. 667 A. “Solerter Anglorum rimare historias,
inveniesque semper fidos principibus suis Angligenas.” Fancy
William Rufus sitting down to study the Chronicles, as his
brother Henry may likely enough have done.
[192] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Ferdon þa toweard Hrofeceastre
and woldon þone bisceop Odan begytan, þohtan gif hi hæfdon
hine, þe wæs ærur heafod to þam unræde, þæt hi mihton þe bet
begytan ealla þa oðre.”
[193] It is somewhat singular that, though Richard appears
in Domesday as “Ricardus de Tonebrige” as well as “Ricardus
filius Gisleberti comitis” (14 et al.), and though his
“leva” or “lowy” (see Ellis, i. 212) is often spoken of, yet
Tunbridge castle itself is not entered. See on Richard of
Bienfaite, Clare, or Tunbridge, N. C. vol. ii. p. 196; iv.
579. A singular story is told in the Continuation of William
of Jumièges (viii. 15), how Tunbridge was granted in
exchange for Brionne, and measured by the rope. See Appendix
S.
[194] At Tunbridge the mound and the gateway stand side by
side, as indeed they do, though less conspicuously, at
Arundel and Lewes. A wall is built from the gateway to the
keep on the mound, losing itself, as it were, in the side of
the mound. The mound thus stands half within and half
without the enclosure formed by the gateway.
[195] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Þa Englisce men ferdon and
tobræcon þone castel, and þa men þe þærinne wæron griðodon
wið þone cyng,” So Simeon of Durham; “Sed viriliter Angli
insilientes in illud, destruxerunt totum castrum, et qui
intus erant in manus regi dederunt.” Florence gives some
further details; “Tunebrycgiam cui præerat Gilebertus filius
Ricardi, contrarium sibi invenit: obsedit, in biduo
expugnavit, vulneratum Gilebertum cum castello ad deditionem
coegit.” Is it possible that, according to Orderic’s second
account of the rebellion (765 A, B), we are still only in
the Easter week?
[196] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 366. While I am revising my
text, an account of this tower by Mr. Clark has appeared in
the Builder, November 27, 1880.
[197] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Se cyng mid his here ferde
toweard Hrofeceastre, and wendon þæt se bisceop wære
þærinne, ac hit wearð þam cynge cuð þæt se bisceop wæs
afaren to þam castele on Pefenesea.” Florence helps us to an
hexameter in the middle of his prose; “Relatum erat ei ibi
esse episcopum Odonem cum omnibus suis et cohortem
ultramarinam….
Fama volans dicti pervenit Odonis ad aures,
et cum sociis inito consilio, relinquens Roveceastram, cum
paucis adiit castrum fratris sui Roberti Moritanensis
comitis quod Pevenessa dicitur.” Are the “cohors
ultramarina” those who had come with Eustace and Robert of
Bellême?
[198] Flor. Wig. 1088. “Fratrem reperiens, cum ut se teneat
hortatur, pollicens se securos ibi posse esse, et dum rex ad
expugnandam Roveceastram intenderet, comitem Normanniæ cum
magno exercitu venturum, seque suosque liberaturum et magna
fautoribus suis dando præmia regnum accepturum.”
[199] Ord. Vit. 666 D. “Statuerat præcursores suos vere
redeunte sequi cum multis legionibus militum.”
[200] Cont. Will. Gem. viii. 2. “Quum sui fideles eum
exhortarentur ut regnum Angliæ sibi a fratre præreptum
velocius armis sibimet restitueret, simplicitate solita et,
ut ita dicam, imprudentiæ proxima, respondisse fertur, ‘Per
angelos Dei [Gregory’s pun in another form], si essem in
Alexandria, exspectarent me Angli, nec ante adventum meum
Regem sibi facere auderent. Ipse etiam Willelmus frater
meus, quod eum præsumpsisse dicitur, pro capite suo sine mea
permissione minime attentaret.’”
[201] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Betwyx þissum se eorl of
Normandige Rodbeard, þes cynges broðer, gaderode swiðe mycel
folc, and þohte to gewinnane Englelande mid þæra manna
fultume þe wæron innan þisan lande ongean þone cyng, and he
sende of his mannan to þisum lande, and wolde cuman himsylf
æfter.”
[202] Florence seems here to translate what the Chronicler
had said a little before (see above, p. 67); “Inito itaque
salubri consilio, illum eo usque cum exercitu persequitur,
sperans se belli citius finem assequuturum, si ante
triumphare posset de principibus malorum prædictorum.”
[203] So I find it called in several papers in the Sussex
Archæological Collections. But the local antiquaries seem
hardly to have fully grasped the fact that there is a town
in Normandy called _Laigle_, and that the family with which
we are concerned took its name from it.
[204] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “And se cyng mid his here ferde
æfter, and besætt þone castel abutan mid swiðe mycele here
fulle six wucan.” The artillery comes from Florence;
“Accelerat, machinas parat, patruum utrumque obsidet; locus
erat munitissimus; ad expugnationem indies laborat.” William
of Malmesbury cuts the siege of Pevensey short, and Orderic
leaves it out altogether.
[205] See Appendix E.
[206] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 395.
[207] Liber de Hyda, 299. “Willelmus de Warennia apud
obsidionem Peveneselli sagitta in crure valde vulneratus,
Leuwias cum omnium mœrore deportatus est.” The writer goes
on to describe Earl William’s last testament and death. It
will be remembered (see above, p. 62) that Orderic makes
William of Warren die quietly at a later time; but, small as
is the authority of the Hyde writer, it is strange if he
altogether invented or dreamed this minute account.
[208] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Syððan heom ateorede mete
wiðinnan þam castele, þa gyrndon hi griðas, and agefan hine
þam cynge, and se bisceop swór þæt he wolde út of Englelande
faran, and ná mare cuman on þisan lande butan se cyng him
æfter sende, and þæt he wolde agyfan þone castel on
Hrofeceastre.” So William of Malmesbury (iv. 306); “Captum
ad quod libuit jusjurandum impulit, ut Anglia decederet et
Rovecestram traderet.”
[209] Chron. u. s. “Ealswa se bisceop ferde and sceolde
agifan þone castel and se cyng sende his men mid him.” So
Will. Malms. “Ad quod implendum eum cum fidelibus suis
præmisit, lento pede præeuntes subsecutus…. Regii cum
episcopo pauci et inermes (quis enim eo præsente insidias
timeret?) circa muros desiliunt, clamantes oppidanis ut
portas aperiant; hoc episcopum præsentem velle, hoc regem
absentem jubere.”
[210] Will. Malms. u. s. “At illi, de muro conspicati quod
vultus episcopi cum verbis oratorum non conveniret, raptim
apertis portis ruunt, equos involant, omnesque cum episcopo
vinctos abducunt.” This explains the shorter account in the
Chronicle; “þa arisan þa men þe wæron innan þam castele, and
namon þone bisceop and þes cynges men, and dydon hi on
hæftmenge.” It is now that both the Chronicle and William
give the names of the chief nobles who were in the castle.
Henry of Huntingdon (1088, p. 215) strongly marks Odo’s
treachery; “Eustachius consul et cæteri proceres qui urbi
inerant, fallacia ipsius, episcopum regisque ministros
ceperunt et in carcerem retruserunt.”
[211] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 104.
[212] Will. Malms, iv. 306. “Ille [rex]…. Anglos suos
appellat; jubet ut compatriotas advocent ad obsidionem
venire, nisi si qui velint sub nomine Niðing, quod nequam
sonat, remanere. Angli, qui nihil miserius putarent quam
hujusce vocabuli dedecore aduri, catervatim ad regem
confluunt, et invincibilem exercitum faciunt.” This leaves
out the fact that the proclamation was addressed both to
French and English. The words of the Chronicle are express;
“Ða se cyng undergeat þat þing, þa ferde he æfter mid þam
here þe he þær hæfde, and sende ofer eall Englalande, and
bead þæt _ælc man þe wære unniðing_ sceolde cuman to him,
_Frencisce and Englisce_, of porte and of uppelande.” We can
hardly doubt that we have here the actual words of the
proclamation. It must not be forgotten that, by the law of
the Conqueror, Frenchmen who had settled in King Eadward’s
day were counted as English. See N. C. vol. iv. p. 620.
[213] Ord. Vit. 667 B. “Animosus rex … oppidum Maio mense
cum grandi exercitu potenter obsedit, firmatisque duobus
castellis omnem exeundi facultatem hostibus abstulit.” It
must have been late in May, as six weeks had been spent
before Pevensey. Indeed, if the siege did begin in the
Easter week, it must have been June.
[214] See Mr. Clark in the Archæological Journal, vol.
xxxii. p. 205.
[215] This appears from the words of Florence; “Hrofenses
Cantwariensibus et Lundoniensibus cædes inferunt et
incendia. Landfrancus enim archiepiscopus et pene omnes
optimates ejusdem provinciæ erant cum rege.” Orderic too (u.
s.) points out the advantageous position of Rochester for
such purposes; “In medio positi laxis habenis Lundoniam et
Cantuariam devastarent.”
[216] See N. C. vol. v. p. 748.
[217] Ord. Vit. 667 C. “In oppido Rofensi plaga similis
Ægyptiorum plagæ apparuit, qua Deus, qui semper res humanas
curat et juste disponit, antiqua miracula nostris etiam
temporibus recentia ostendit.” Nobody could eat, unless his
neighbour drove away the flies; so they wielded the flapper
by turns.
[218] See above, p. 62.
[219] Will. Malms. iv. 306. “Nec diutius potuere pati
oppidani quin se traderent, experti quamlibet nobilem,
quamlibet consertam manum, nihil adversus regem Angliæ posse
proficere.”
[220] Ord. Vit. 667 D. “Guillermum regem nuntiis petierunt
ut pacem cum eis faceret, ac oppidum ab eis reciperet, tali
tenore ut terras, fundos, et omnia quæ hactenus habuerant,
ab ipso reciperent, et ipsi eidem ut naturali domino
[cynehlaford] fideliter amodo servirent.”
[221] Ord. Vit. 667 D. “His auditis rex iratus est, et valde
rigidus intumuit, et in nullo flexus legatorum
postulationibus non acquievit; sed perfidos traditores in
oppido virtute potenti capiendos juravit, et mox patibulis
suspendendos, et aliis mortium diversis generibus de terra
delendos asseruit.”
[222] Ib. “Ecce turgidi juvenes et cupiditate cæcati senes
jam satis edocti sunt quod regiæ vires in hac insula nondum
defecerunt. Nam qui de Normannia, tamquam milvi ad prædam,
super nos cum impetu advolarunt, et in Anglia regiam stirpem
defecisse arbitrati sunt, jam Guillelmum juvenem Guillelmo
sene non debiliorem, cohibente Deo, experti sunt.”
[223] Ord. Vit. 668 B. “Quid sceleratis peccavi? quid illis
nocui? quid mortem meam totis nisibus procuraverunt, et
omnes pro posse suo contra me populos cum detrimento
multorum erexerunt?”
[224] Ib. “Quisquis parcit perjuris et latronibus,
plagiariis et execratis proditoribus, aufert pacem et
quietem innocentibus, innumerasque cædes et damna serit
bonis et inermibus.” We seem to be reading the cover of the
Edinburgh Review.
[225] Ord. Vit. 668 C. “Baiocensis Odo patruus tuus est et
_pontificali sanctificatione_ præditus est.” “Cum patre tuo
Anglos subjugavit”――a merit which would hardly be pleaded in
the hearing of the King’s army. He is “antistes Domini,” and
so forth. “Omnes precamur ut illi benevolentiam tuam
concedas et illæsum in Normanniam ad diocesim suam abire
permittas.”
[226] Ib. “Comes Boloniensis patri tuo satis fuit fidelis,
et in rebus arduis strenuus adjutor et contubernalis.” There
must be some confusion between father and son.
[227] Ib. “Magnam Normanniæ partem possidet, fortissimisque
castellis corroboratus pene omnibus vicinis suis et Neustriæ
proceribus præeminet.”
[228] Here (ib. D) a hexameter peeps out;
“Idem qui lædit, fors post ut amicus obedit.”
It is the doctrine of Aias in Sophoklês (659);
ἐγὼ δ’ ἐπίσταμαι γὰρ ἀρτίως, ὅτι
ὅ τ’ ἐχθρὸς ἡμῖν ἐς τοσόνδ’ ἐχθαρτέος,
ὡς καὶ φιλήσων αὖθις.
[egô d’ epistamai gar artiôs, hoti
ho t’ echthros hêmin es tosond’ echtharteos,
hôs kai philêsôn authis.]
The balancing clause was not called for.
[229] They were (ib.) “eximii tirones”――“swiðe gode
cnihtas”――“quorum servitutem, inclite rex, parvi pendere non
debes.”
[230] Ib. “Igitur, quos jam superasti potestate, divitiis,
et ingenti probitate, subjuga tibi magnificentia et
pietate.” On the sense of “magnificentia,” cf. N. C. vol. i.
p. 261.
[231] Ord. Vit. 668 D. “Omnem spem habendi hæreditates et
terras in regno ejus, quamdiu ipse regnaret, funditus
abscidit.”
[232] Ord. Vit. 668 D. “Tunc Odo pontifex a rege Rufo
impetrare temptavit, ne tubicines in eorum egressu tubis
canerent, sicut moris est dum hostes vincuntur et parvum
oppidum capitur.” Why “parvum”?
[233] Ib. “Nec se concessurum etiam propter mille auri
marcos palam asseruit.”
[234] Ib. “Oppidanis cum mœrore et verecundia egredientibus,
et regalibus tubis cum gratulatione clangentibus.”
[235] Ord. Vit. 669 A. “Multitudo Anglorum quæ regi
adhærebat cunctis audientibus, vociferabatur, et dicebat;
Torques, torques afferte, traditorem episcopum cum suis
complicibus patibulis suspendite. Magne rex Anglorum, cur
sospitem pateris abire incentorem malorum? Non debet vivere
perjurus homicida, qui dolis et crudelitatibus peremit
hominum multa milia.”
[236] Ib. “Hæc et alia probra mœstus antistes cum suis
audivit.”
[237] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Se bisceop Odo mid þam mannum þe
innan þam castele wæron ofer sæ ferdon, and se bisceop swa
forlet þone wurðscipe þe he on þis land hæfde.” Orderic (669
A)――in his character of “Angligena”――moralizes; “Sic
irreligiosus præsul de Anglia expulsus est, et amplissimis
possessionibus spoliatus est. Tunc maximos quæstus, quos cum
facinore obtinuit, justo Dei judicio cum ingenti dedecore
perdidit, et confusus Baiocas rediit, nec in Angliam
postmodum repedavit.”
[238] Ord. Vit. 669 A. “Anno primo Guillelmi Rufi regis, in
initio æstatis, Rofensis urbs ei redita est, omniumque qui
contra pacem enses acceperant, nequam commotio compressa
est.” We shall see by the story of Robert of Rhuddlan, to
which we shall presently come, that some of the King’s
followers were at home again by the end of June.
[239] See above, p. 74.
[240] Chron. Petrib. 1088. “Eac manige Frencisce men
forleton heora land and ferdon ofer sæ, and se cyng geaf
heora land þam mannum þe him holde wæron.”
[241] Ord. Vit. 669 B. “Quorumdam factiones sævissimis
legibus puniit, aliquorum vero reatus ex industria
dissimulavit. Antiquis baronibus, quos ab ipso aliquantum
desciverat nequitia, versute pepercit, _pro amore patris
sui_ cui diu fideliter inhæserant, et pro senectutis
reverentia, sciens profecto quod non eos diu vigere sinerent
morbi et mors propria. Porro quidam, quanto gravius se
errasse in regiam majestatem noverunt, tanto ferventius omni
tempore postmodum ei famulati sunt, et tam muneribus quam
servitiis ac adulationibus multis modis placere studuerunt.”
[242] See above, p. 32.
[243] See above, p. 28.
[244] See above, p. 88.
[245] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 409, 825, and below, p. 139.
[246] Mon. Ang. i. 245. “Tandem misi sibi rex abbatem sancti
Augustini, mandans ei ut, sicut prius mandaverat sibi, ad
curiam suam cum abbate veniret. Episcopus autem, inimicorum
suorum insidias cum regis ira metuens, sine bono conductu se
non posse venire respondet et legatos suos per abbatis
conductum cum subscriptis litteris regi misit.”
[247] Ib. “Homines meos et terras et pecuniam quam
vicecomites vestri ubicumque poterant, mihi abstulerunt,
scilicet Offedene et Welletune quas diviserunt Odoni et
Alano comitibus, cum cæteris terris in Ewerwickschire.” See
above, p. 31. On Count Alan, see N. C. vol. iv. p. 294, and
on Odo, vol. iv. pp. 301, 805.
[248] Ib. “Quod breve cum mississem Radulfo Paganello non
solum mihi pacem negavit sed et de parte vestra me
diffidavit.” On _diffidatio_ see Ducange _in voce_. In N. C.
vol. v. p. 270 we have a case of the man _defying_ his lord.
Here the lord _defies_ his man. In either case there is the
withdrawal of one side of the mutual duty of lord and man.
[249] Ib. “Hominum vero quosdam vendidit, quosdam redimi
permisit.”
[250] Mon. Ang. i. 245. “Hoc in veritate vobis mando quod
libenter cum hoc abbate venissem, nisi plus inimicos meos et
_indoctam populi multitudinem_ timuissem quod de vestro
brevi et baronum vestrorum fiducia dubitassem.”
[251] Ib. “Rex visis his litteris misit conductum episcopo
et bene affidavit eum per litteras suas quod per eum vel per
suos homines nullum ei damnum eveniret usque quo de rege
rediens Dunelmum intraret. Perrexit ergo episcopus ad
regem.”
[252] Mon. Ang. i. 245. “Episcopus … deprecatus est eum ut
rectitudinem sibi consentiret sicut episcopo suo. Rex autem
respondit ei, Quod si laicaliter placitare vellet, et extra
pacem quam rex ei dederat se mitteret, hoc modo rectitudinem
sibi consentiret, et, si hoc modo placitare recusaret,
Dunelmum faceret eum reconduci.”
[253] Ib. “Dunelmum rediit episcopus, cui rex interim plus
quam septingentos homines cum multa præda abstulerat.”
[254] They were to have (Mon. Ang. i. 246) the “securitas et
conductus regis” till they had crossed――“donec ultra mare ad
terram siccam cum rebus suis essent.” The catalogue of the
“res suæ” is curious; “Et liceret eos per conductum regis
secum ducere et portare [ἄγειν καὶ φέρειν] [agein kai
pherein] aurum et argentum, equos et pannos et arma et canes
et accipitres, et sua prorsus omnia quæ de terra portari
debent.” The hawks and hounds remind us of Harold setting
sail from Bosham in the Tapestry. See N. C. vol. iii. p.
222.
[255] Mon. Ang. i. 246. “Episcopus dedit fidem suam Rogero
Pictavensi, quod si ipse per præscriptam condicionem
castellum reduceretur, et major fortitudo in castello missa
vel facta esset in hominibus vel in munitione vel in
castelli fortitudine quam eadem die ibi erat, episcopus
totum illud destrui faceret, ita quod episcopus inde nullum
proficuum haberet nec rex damnum.”
[256] Mon. Angl. i. 246. “In quarto nonas Novembris … venit
episcopus Salisbiriam, quem cum Ursus de Habetot unus ex
servientibus regis ad regem intrare moneret.” On Urse of
Abetot, see N. C. vol. iv. pp. 173, 383, 579, 820.
[257] Ib. “Episcopus reqnisivit ab archiepiscopis utrum
revestitus ingredi deberet, dixitque, ‘Nihil se prorsus
acturum ibi nisi canonice et secundum ordinem suum et sibi
videbatur quod ecclesiastica consuetudo exigebat ut ipse
revestitus ante revestitos causam suam diceret et
causantibus canonice responderet,’ Cui Lanfrancus
archiepiscopus respondens, ‘bene possumus,’ inquit, ‘hoc
modo vestiti de regalibus tuisque negotiis disceptare,
vestes enim non impediunt veritatem,’”
[258] See William FitzStephen, iii. 56, Robertson.
[259] Mon. Angl. u. s. “Episcopus surgens precatus est regem
ut episcopatum suum quem jamdiu sine judicio abstulerat sibi
redderet. Lanfrancus vero, rege tacente, dixit, ‘Rex de
episcopatu tuo nihil tibi abstulit vel aliquis per eam neque
breve suum vidisti per quod te de episcopatu tuo dissaisiret
vel dissaisiri præciperet.’”
[260] The Bishop now tells his grievances at length. After
other wrongs the King “misit comites et barones cum exercitu
suo, et per eos totum episcopatum meum vastavit, terras
quoque et homines et pecuniam Sancti Cuthberti et meam mihi
abstulit. Nostram etiam sedem me ad tempus abjuvare coegit;
ipsi etiam casati ecclesiæ qui mei homines ligii fuerant et
quidquid habebant de casamento ecclesiæ tenebat ex præcepto
regis guerram mihi fecerunt, et terras suas de rege tenentes
pacifice hic eos cum rege video adversum me convenisse.”
[261] “Rectitudinem facere” is the technical phrase. See
Appendix C.
[262] “Tunc laici hujusmodi verbis Lanfranci totius Angliæ
primatis animati, adversus episcopum exclamantes dixerunt
‘injustum esse quod rex episcopo responderet antequam regi
fecisset justitiam.’ Laicis vero hæc et alia multa
declamantibus et iterantibus, facto silentio, dixit
episcopus.”
[263] “Domini barones et laici, permittite me, quæso, quæ
dicturus sum regi dicere, archiepiscopis et episcopis
respondere, quia nihil vobis habeo dicere, et, sicut huc non
veni judicium vestrum recepturus, ita illud omnino recuso,
et si domino nostri regi et archiepiscopis et episcopis
placuisset vos hic negotio interesse, nec me taliter obloqui
decuisset.”
[264] See the complaints from the ecclesiastical side in N.
C. vol. iv. p. 436.
[265] Mon. Angl. i. 247. “Tunc Rogerus Bygotus dixit regi,
‘Vos debetis episcopo dicere unde eum appellare vultis, et
postea, si ipse nobis voluerit respondere de responsione sua
facite eum judicari; sin autem, facite inde quod barones
vestri vobis consulerent.’”
[266] I cannot identify this Hugh. “Hugo cognomento pauper”
(Ord. Vit. 806 A), son of Count Robert of Meulan, and
afterwards Earl of Bedford (Gest. Steph. 61), was not yet
born.
[267] See above, p. 30.
[268] Mon. Angl. u. s. “Rex te appellat quod, cum ipse
audivit quod inimici sui super eum veniebant, et homines
sui, episcopus scilicet Baiocensis et Rogerus comes et alii
plures regnum suum pariter sibi et coronam auferre volebant,
et ipse per consilium tuum contra illos equitabat.” There is
something odd in this calm mention of Earl Roger as an open
rebel.
[269] See above, p. 28.
[270] Macaulay, ii. 496-499, 510, 511.
[271] Mon. Angl. u. s. “Episcopus autem Hugoni respondit,
‘Hugo, dicas quidquid volueris, non tibi tamen hodie
respondebo.’”
[272] Mon. Angl. u. s. “Tum multum tumultuantes laici,
quidam rationibus, quidam vero contumeliis, adversus
episcopum deiterarent.”
[273] Ib. “Domini archiepiscopi, nos non oporteret diutius
hæc ita considerare, sed deceret nos surgere et episcopos et
abbates convocare, quosdam etiam baronum et comitum istorum
nobiscum habere, et cum eis juste decernere si episcopus
debeat prius investiri vel ante investituram de querelis
regis intrare in placitum.” The text has “S. Constantiensis
episcopus,” but Bishop Geoffrey must be meant.
[274] Mon. Angl. u. s. “Ad hæc Lanfrancus archiepiscopus,
‘Non est necesse,’ inquit, ‘nos surgere, sed episcopus et
homines sui egrediantur, et nos remanentes, tam clerici quam
laici, consideremus equaliter quid inde juste facere
debeamus.’”
[275] Ib. “Vade, nos enim juste faciemus quidquid
fecerimus.”
[276] Ib. “Si ego hodie te et tuum ordinem judicare non
potero, tu vel tuus ordo nunquam me amplius judicabitis.”
[277] Ib. “Vide autem qui in domo ista remanent et me
judicare disponunt ut et canonicos judices habeant et
canonice me judicent; si enim aliter agerent, eorum judicia
penitus recusarem.”
[278] Ib. “Rege, cum suis episcopis et consulibus et
vicecomitibus et præpositis et venatoribus aliisque
quorumlibet officiorum, in judicio remanente.”
[279] We have met with Osgeat the Reeve in Domesday. See N.
C. vol. v. p. 812. Croc the hunter, like others of his
craft, appears in 49, 74 _b_. See Ellis, i. 403. This odd
mixture of great and small officials is not unusual. In the
“Constitutio Domus Regis” in Hearne’s Liber Niger, i. 341,
the descent from the Chancellor to the bakers and cooks――the
huntsmen come at the end――is more sudden than one would have
looked for, though certain chaplains and seneschals break
the fall.
[280] See N. C. vol. v. pp. 423, 878.
[281] Mon. Angl. u. s. “Dominus noster archiepiscopus et
regis curia vobis judicat quod rectitudinem regi facere
debetis antequam de _vestro feodo_ revestiat.”
[282] Ib. “Nullus mihi hodie vel ego alicui de feodo feci
verbum,” says Bishop William. To which Archbishop Thomas
answers, “Vobis judicat curia ista, quia de nulla re debet
vos rex resaissire antequam sibi rectitudinem faciatis.”
[283] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Episcopi sunt judices, et eos ad
consilium tuum habere non debes.”
[284] Ib. “Cum tuis ibi consule, quia de nostris in consilio
tuo nullum prorsus habebis.”
[285] Ib. “Parum consilii in his septem hominibus habeo
contra virtutem et scientiam totius hujus regni quod hic
adversum me video congregatum.”
[286] Mon. Angl. u. s. “In _lege nostra_ prohibitum invenio,
ne tale judicium suspiciam.” This strange phrase, twice
repeated, most likely refers to the False Decretals, of
which he seems to have had a copy with him. See below, p.
109.
[287] Ib. “Apostolicam sedem Romanam, sanctam ecclesiam et
beatum Petrum ejusque vicarium appello, ut ipsius
ordinatione negotii mei justam sententiam suscipere merear,
cujus dispositioni majores causas ecclesiasticas et
episcoporum judicia antiqua apostolorum eorumque successorum
atque canonum auctoritas reservavit.” Yet, according to the
doctrine held long after by Thomas Stubbs (see N. C. vol.
iv. p. 260), the Bishop of Durham need not have gone very
far to find a Vicar of Saint Peter.
[288] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 338.
[289] Mon. Angl. u. s. “Dispoliatus episcopio extra
provinciam meam, absentibus omnibus comprovincialibus meis,
in laicali conventu causam meam dicere compellor.”
[290] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Nos non de episcopio sed de tuo te
feodo judicamus, et hoc modo judicavimus Baiocensem
episcopum ante patrem hujus regis de feodo suo, nec rex
vocabat eum episcopum in placito illo, sed fratrem et
comitem.”
[291] Ib. “Quia Dei gratia sapientissimus et nominatissimus
estis, in hoc sapere vestrum tam sublime intelligo, quod
parvitas mea illud comprehendere non potest; sed apostolicam
sedem quam ex necessitate appellavi per licentiam regis et
vestram adire volo.”
[292] Mon. Ang. u. s. “In omni loco in quo non violentia sed
justitia dominetur, de scelere et perjurio me purgare
paratus sum, et hoc quod hic pro judicio recitasti in Romana
ecclesia falsum et injuste dictum esse monstrabo.”
[293] Ib. “In curia ista nullum ad præsens placitum
subintrabo, quia nihil ibi tam bene dicerem quin fautores
regis depravando perverterent, qui ipsam et non reverentes
apostolicam auctoritatem post ejus appellationem me judicio
non legali gravant, sed Dei et Sancti Petri postulans
auxilium Romam vadam.”
[294] Ib. “Tunc rex ait, ‘Modo volo ut castellum tuum mihi
reddas, quoniam judicium meæ curiæ non sequeris.’”
[295] Mon. Ang. i. 248. “Per vultum de Luca nunquam exibis
de manibus meis donec castellum habeam.”
[296] Ib. “Ego passus sum per tres servientes vestros
aufferri mihi terras et pecuniam ecclesiæ, præsentibus
centum meis militibus, et in nullo prorsus vobis restiti.”
[297] Durham is described as “Urbs ipsa in qua sedes est
ecclesiæ.” The Bishop adds; “Paratus sum bonos obsides et
fiducias dare vobis, quod homines mei quos ibi dum Romam
vado volo dimittere in fidelitate vestra eam custodient, et,
si volueritis, libenter vobis servient.”
[298] “Tunc rex ait, ‘In veritate credas, episcope, quod
nullo modo Dunelmum reverteris et quod homines tui Dunelmi
nullatenus remanebunt, nec tu manus meas evades donec
castellum tuum liberum mihi reddas.’”
[299] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Si episcopus amplius castellum suum
vobis contradixerit, bene eum capere potestis, quia
conductum quem hactenus habuit nunc dimittit, cum prior
conventionem frangit, et barones vestros probare appetit
quod fidem suam servarent non bene.”
[300] On Randolf Peverel and his alleged connexion with
William, see N. C. vol. iii. p. 662; iv. 200; v. 26.
[301] Mon. Angl. i. 248. “Tunc Radulfus Piperellus et omnes
laici unanimiter conclamantes dixerunt; ‘Capite eum, capite
eum, bene enim loquitur _iste vetustus ligaminarius_.’” One
would like to have the original French of this somewhat
irreverent description of the Archbishop, but _gaoler_ seems
to be the most likely meaning of the unusual word
_ligaminarius_.
[302] Ib. “Multum precor dominum meum regem ne fidem meam
inde faciat me mentiri, nullum enim proficuum in me haberet
ulterius.”
[303] Ib. “Rex bene vos adquietavit; plenam namque
rectitudinem episcopo obtulit, et ipse eam vobis audientibus
recusavit, regem quoque Romam injuste invitavit; recognoscat
igitur episcopus hoc justum fecisse judicium, et si illud
sequi nollet, et rex sibi naves inveniet et conductum.”
[304] “Christianam legem quam hic scriptam habeo, testem
invoco.” See above, p. 104.
[305] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Non est justum ut placitum vel
judicium regis pro aliqua contradictione longius procedat,
sed quotiens in curia sua judicium agitur, ibidem necesse
est ut concedatur vel contradicatur, tu ergo judicium
nostrum vel hic concede, vel hic evidenti ratione
contradicito.”
[306] Ib. “Rex ait, ‘Dicas licet quidquid velis, non tamen
effugies manus meas nisi castellum prius mihi reddas.’” The
Bishop has just before spoken of “Roma, ubi debeo et ubi
justitia magis quam violentia.”
[307] Ib. “Cum vos non solum episcopatum, verum et omnia
mea, injuste abstuleritis, et ipsam modo sedem violenter
auferre velitis, pro nulla re quam facere possim capi me
patiar.”
[308] Ib. “Constituta est ergo dies qua episcopus urbem suis
hominibus vacuaret et rex ibi suos poneret.”
[309] Ib. “Tu pro regis damno et omnium nostrorum dedecore
vadis Romam, et ipse tibi terram dimitteret? Remane in terra
sua, et ipse episcopatum tuum præter urbem tibi reddet, ea
conditione quod in curia sua judicio baronum suorum
rectitudinem sibi facias.”
[310] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Ego apostolicam sedem appellavi, quia
in curia ejus nullum justum judicio audio et nullo modo
dimittam quin illuc vadam.”
[311] Ib. “Tunc rex ait, ‘Faciat mihi episcopus fiduciam
quod damnum meum citra mare non quærat vel recipiat, et quod
naves meas quas sibi inveniam non detinebit frater meus vel
aliquis suorum ad damnum meum contra nautarum voluntatem.’”
[312] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Reginaldus Paganellus ait, ‘Certe
comites vestri promiserunt hoc quod dicit episcopus et
convenienter inde eos custodite.’” “Reginaldus” must surely
be a slip for “Radulfus.”
[313] Ib. “‘Tace,’ inquit rex, ‘quia pro nullius fiducia
naves meas perdere patiar, sed, si episcopus inde se
fiduciam fecisse cognoverit, super illam aliam non
requiram.’”
[314] Ib. “Tunc rex iratus ait, ‘Per vultum de Luca, in hoc
anno mare non transibis, nisi fiduciam quam de navibus
requiro prius modo feceris.’”
[315] Ib. “Faciam hanc et multo majorem, si necesse fuerit,
fiduciam antequam hic in captione detinear; sed bene omnes
audiant quod ea invitus faciam et captionis timore coactus.”
[316] Ib. “Rex ait, ‘Nullum conductum habebis, sed Wiltone
moraberis donec ego vere sciam quod castellum habeam in mea
potestate, et tunc demum naves recipies et conductum.’”
Wilton seems an odd place for the purpose; should it be
“Wintonie?”
[317] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Cum quod vellem et deberem facere non
valeam, hoc ipsum quod dicitis injuste patiar et coactus.”
[318] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 215. “Walterus de Haiencora,” or
“Haiencorn,” must be a corruption of his name.
[319] Mon. Angl. i. 249. “Precamur vos ut faciatis domino
meo reddi pecuniam.” The name of the speaker is given as
“Willelmus de Merlao.”
[320] Ib. “Rex ait, ‘Videant barones isti si ego juste
possum implacitare episcopum.’”
[321] Ib. “Injustum esset si amplius implacitaretis eum, cum
de vobis mihi teneat et securum conductum habere debeat.”
[322] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Bene scias, episcope, quod nunquam
transfretabis donec castellum tuum habeam; episcopus enim
Baiocensis inde me castigavit.”
[323] Gilbert of Bretevile appears as a considerable
landowner in Hampshire (Domesday, 48) and Wiltshire (71). He
may have been Sheriff of either shire.
[324] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 215, 800. Besides Erneis
himself, we have heard of a Ralph Fitz-Erneis at Senlac,
vol. iii. p. 494.
[325] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Dissaisiverunt episcopum de ecclesia
et de castello et de omni terra sua xviii. Kal. Dec., et
liberaverunt hominibus episcopi _Helponem_ balistarium
regis.” The King’s writ follows. _Helpo_ must be _Heppo_.
See N. C. vol. iv. p. 216. See Appendix C.
[326] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Accepit Ivo Taillesbosci duos milites
episcopi, et coegit eos placitare de animalibus
Constantiensis episcopi de quibus judicatum fuerat ante
regem Dunelmensi episcopo non debere respondere.” It is of
course possible that there might be some ground for
impleading the knights, though not for impleading the
Bishop.
[327] He had before asked; “dum in Anglia fuero, habetote
mecum unum bonum hominem, qui et hospitia mihi inveniat et
ab impedimento me defendat.” The “good man” assigned is
“Robertus de Comitisvilla.” One would think that he was a
kinsman of the husband of Herleva, the King’s
step-grandfather.
[328] _Roger_ in the text; but Robert must surely be meant.
[329] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Illi responderunt se nullam sibi
navem liberaturos, et dixerunt regem sibi præcepisse ut bene
servarent episcopum, ne de potestate regis exiret usque quo
quid de eo fieri præciperet, illis per suas sigillatas
literas remandaret.”
[330] Mon. Ang. u. s. “Venerunt ad eum Salesberiensis
episcopus et Robertus de Insula et Ricardus de Cultura, et
summonuerunt eum de parte regis, Kal. Decembr., ut in
nativitate Domini esset Londoniæ ad curiam regis, et faceret
ei rectitudinem de Gaufrido monacho suo, qui, postquam
episcopus ad curiam venerat, de dominicatu episcopi
quingenta et triginta novem animalia acceperat, et
munitionem castelli abstulerat de quibusdam suis aliis
hominibus, qui unum hominem regis occiderant.” The Gemót was
therefore to be at Westminster, not in its regular place at
Gloucester.
[331] Ib. “Quamvis juste facere potuissem, potui enim de
meis facere quidquid volui, usquequo de mea sede me
dissaisivit.”
[332] Ib. “Ad curiam ejus amplius ire non possum, ipse enim
omnia mea mihi abstulit, et equos meos jam venditos
manducavi.”
[333] He offers, “Solus, si liceat, transfretabo.”
[334] Mon. Angl. u. s. “Rex misit ei Wintoniensem episcopum
et Hugonem de Portu et Gaufridum de Traileio, et per illos
sibi mandavit ut Gaufridum monachum ad placitandum de
prædictis forisfactis Dunelmum mitteret, et ipse Londoniam
iret, ut in nativitate Domini de hominibus suis ibi
rectitudinem regi faceret.”
[335] Ib. “Episcopus tristis misit ad comites Alanum et
Rogerum et Odonem, mandans eis impedimenta sua, et
conjuravit eos per eam fidem quam in baptismo susceperant et
quam sibi promiserant.”
[336] Ib. “A Roberto fratre regis comite Normannorum
honorifice susceptus, totius Normanniæ curam suscepit.”
[337] See above, p. 91, where he is afraid of the “indocta
multitudo.”
[338] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 502, 675.
[339] Ann. Camb. 1087. “Resus filius Teudur a regno suo
expulsus est a filiis Bledint, scilicet Madauc, Cadugan, et
Ririt. Resus vero ex Hibernia classem duxit et revertitur in
Britanniam.” The Brut is to the same effect.
[340] Ib. “Ingentem censum captivorum gentilibus et Scotis
filius Teudur tradidit.” The Brut for “gentiles et Scoti”
has “Yscotteit ar Gúydyl,” marking the Gwyddyl as heathen
Ostmen. This is the most common use of the word in the
British writers; but we can hardly think that the Scots here
spoken of are Scots in the elder sense.
[341] In Ann. Camb. 1082, Trahaern (see N. C. iv. 675), with
others, “a Reso filio Teudur et a Grifino filio Conani
occidisus est.” This Gruffydd must be distinguished from
Gruffydd son of Meredydd. He may be the “Grifin puer” of
Domesday, 180 _b_. “Griffin rex” in p. 269 is surely
Gruffydd son of Llywelyn.
[342] Ord. Vit. 669 B. “Grithfridus rex Guallorum cum
exercitu suo fines Angliæ invasit, et circa Rodelentum
magnam stragem hominum et incendia fecit, ingentem quoque
prædam cepit, hominesque in captivitatem duxit.”
[343] Orderic (u. s.) specially marks Gruffydd’s invasion as
happening “cum supradicta tempestate vehementer Anglia
undique concuteretur et mutuis vulneribus incolæ regni
quotidie mactarentur.”
[344] See above, pp. 34, 47. Now is the time for the
exploits of the grandsons of Jestyn ap Gwrgan. See N. C.
vol. v. p. 822, and Appendix DD.
[345] We have seen him among the rebels. See above, p. 34.
[346] Ord. Vit. u. s. “Robertus Rodelenti princeps de
obsidione Rofensi rediens, et tam atroces damnososque sibi
rumores comperiens, vehementer dolens ingemuit, et
terribilibus minis iram suam evidenter aperuit.”
[347] Ib. 670 B. “Tertio die Julii Grithfridus rex Guallorum
cum tribus navibus sub montem qui dicitur Hormaheva littori
appulsus est.” It needs a moment’s thought to see that
_Hormaheva_ is _Ormesheafod_, the _Orm’s Head_. Here the
name bears the Scandinavian form given to it doubtless by
Northern rovers. The _Worm’s Head_ in Gower, in its English
form, marks the presence of Low-Dutch settlers, whether
Flemish or Saxon.
[348] Ord. Vit. 670 B. “Incolis Britonibus sævo Marte
repulsis, fines suos dilatavit, et in monte Dagaunoth, qui
mari contiguus est, fortissimum castellum condidit.” Orderic
has clearly got hold of the right names and the right
incidents; but he has misconceived the topography.
Dwyganwy passes as the stronghold of that Maglocunus or
Maelgwyn, whom Gildas (Ep. 33) addresses as “insularis
draco, multorum tyrannorum depulsor, tam regno quam etiam
vita” (cf. Nennius, c. 62, and Ann. Camb. 547, the year of
his death). See Giraldus, It. Kamb. ii. 10; Descrip. Kamb.
i. 5 (where he calls it “nobile castellum”), vol. vi. pp.
136, 176.
[349] Ord. Vit. 670 C. “Interim mare fluctus suos retraxit,
et in sicco litore classis piratarum stetit. Grithfridus
autem cum suis per maritima discurrit, homines et armenta
rapuit, et ad naves exsiccatas festine remeavit.”
[350] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 176.
[351] Ord. Vit. u. s. “Clamor vulgi Robertum meridie
dormitantem excitavit, eique hostilem discursum per terram
suam nuntiavit. Ille vero, ut jacebat, impiger surrexit, et
mox præcones ad congregandum agmen armatorum per totam
regionem direxit. Porro ipse cum paucis bellatoribus
imparatus Guallos prosecutus est, et de vertice montis
Hormohevæ, qui nimis arduus est, captivos a piratis ligari,
et in naves cum pecoribus præcipitari speculatus est.”
Orderic must surely have confounded the Orm’s Head itself
with the lower hill of Dwyganwy. It is there, in or near his
own castle, that we must conceive Robert sleeping, not on
the Orm’s Head itself, or on any casual point of the flat
ground between the two. To climb the higher of the two peaks
of Dwyganwy would be perfectly natural, and would give him a
wide enough view over the whole country. But to conceive him
first crossing the flat, and then climbing a huge mountain
for no particular object, seems quite out of the question.
[352] Ib. “Marchisus audax, ut leo nobilis, vehementer
infremuit, hominesque paucos qui secum inermes erant, ut,
antequam æstus maris rediret, super Guallos in sicco litore
irruerent, admonuit.”
[353] Ord. Vit. 670 C. “Prætendunt suorum paucitatem, et per
ardui montis præcipitium descendendi difficultatem.”
[354] Ib. “Nimis doluit, impatiensque moræ per difficilem
descensum sine lorica cum uno milite nomine Osberno de
Orgeriis, ad hostes descendit.” I cannot identify this
Osbern, unless he be “Osbernus filius Tezonis,” who in
Domesday (267 _b_, 268 _b_) holds a good deal of land in
Cheshire under Earl Hugh, but none seemingly under Robert
himself. For Orgères see Stapleton, ii. lxxxv.
[355] Ib. 670 D. “Quem cum viderent solo clypeo protectum et
uno tantum milite stipatum, omnes pariter in illum missilia
destinant, et scutum ejus jaculis intolerabiliter onerant,
et egregium militem letaliter vulnerant. Nullus tamen,
quamdiu stetit et parmam tenuit, ad eum comminus accedere,
vel eum ense impetere ausus fuit.” Cf. the account of the
death of Siccius in Dion. Hal. xi. 26. He has an ὑπασπιστής
[hypaspistês] to play the part of Osbern of Orgères.
[356] Ib. “Bellicosus heros spiculis confossus genua flexit,
et scutum missilibus nimis onustum viribus effœtus dimisit.”
[357] Ib. “In conspectu suorum caput ejus abscindunt ac
super malum navis pro signo victoriæ suspendunt.”
[358] Ord. Vit. 670 D. “Classe parata piratas per mare
fugientes persequebantur nimis tristes, dum caput principis
sui super malum puppis intuebantur.”
[359] Ib. 671 A. “Cum nimio luctu Anglorum et Normannorum.”
This may be well believed. Normans and English soon forgot
their own differences in warfare with the Welsh.
[360] But Orderic has forgotten his dates when he says,
“Nuper illud cœnobium Hugo Cestrensis consul construxerat,
eique Ricardus Beccensis monachus abbas præerat.” We shall
see as we go on that the monks were not planted at Saint
Werburh’s till 1092 (see N. C. vol. iv. pp. 312, 491). It is
now that Orderic speaks of the “belluini cœtus”――we are not
told whether they were Norman, English, or Welsh――among whom
Abbot Richard had to labour.
[361] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 489.
[362] His gifts in lands, tithes, and villains, in Normandy
and in England, are reckoned up by Orderic, 669 C, D. Among
them was “in civitate Cestra ecclesiam sancti Petri de
mercato et tres hospites.”
[363] Ord. Vit. 671 B. “Rainaldus pictor, cognomento
Bartolomæus, variis coloribus arcum tumulumque depinxit.”
[364] Ib. “Vitalis Angligena satis ab Ernaldo rogatus
epitaphium elegiacis versibus hoc modo edidit.”
[365] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 490.
[366] Ord. Vit. 672 A;
“Eripe tartareis Robertum, Christe, camœnis [caminis];
Est nimis ipse reus; terge, precor, facinus;”
with four more lines to the same effect.
[367] Ord. Vit. 671 C, D.
“Montem Snaudunum fluviumque citum Colvenum,
Pluribus armatis transiliit vicibus.
Præcipuam pulcro Blideno rege fugato
Prædam cum paucis cepit in insidiis.
Duxit captivum lorisque ligavit Hoëllum
Qui tunc Wallensi rex præerat manui.
Cepit Grithfridum regem vicitque Trehellum;
Sic micuit crebris militiæ titulis.
Attamen incaute Wallenses ausus adire,
Occidit æstivi principio Julii.
Prodidit Owenius, rex est gavisus Hovellus;
Facta vindicta monte sub Hormaheva.
Ense caput secuit Grithfridus, et in mare jecit,
_Soma_ quidem reliquum possidet hunc loculum.”
The exploits of Robert fully entitled him to Orderic’s pet
Greek word. “Colvenus” must be some corrupt form of _Conwy_.
[368] We have seen that, in describing the rebellion of
1088, the words of the Chronicler are, “þa riceste Frencisce
men þe weron innan þisan lande wolden swican heora hlaforde
þam cynge.” In 1101 we read simply, “þa sona þæeræfter
wurdon þa heafod men her on lande wiðerræden togeanes þam
cynge.”
[369] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 308.
[370] I refer to the passage which I have already quoted in
N. C. vol. v. p. 830, where William Rufus, just before his
death (Ord. Vit. 782 B), mocks at the English regard for
omens; “Num prosequi me ritum autumat Anglorum, qui pro
sternutatione et somnio vetularum dimittunt iter suum seu
negotium?”
[371] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 393.
[372] Stigand appears in the list of deaths which
accompanied that of William in the Chronicle, where one
would think that the persons spoken of died after him; but
in the less rhetorical account of the same year in Florence
they seem to have died before him. The Life of Lanfranc at
the end of the Chronicles records the consecrations and
benediction of all the three prelates with whom we are
concerned, Geoffrey, Guy, and John, in 1088; “Cantuariæ, in
sede metropoli, examinavit atque sacravit.” Cf. Gervase, X
Scriptt. 1654.
[373] See Stephens’ Memorials of Chichester, p. 47.
[374] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 459.
[375] Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 195 draws a curious picture
of him; “Erat medicus probatissimus, non scientia sed usu,
ut fama, nescio an vera, dispersit. Litteratorum contubernio
gaudens, ut eorum societate aliquid sibi laudis ascisceret;
salsioris tamen in obloquentes dicacitatis quam gradus ejus
interesse deberet.” He had just before described him as
“natione Turonicus, professione medicus, qui non minimum
quæstum illo conflaverat artificio.” The local writer in the
Historiola (21) calls him “vir prudens et providus.”
[376] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 417.
[377] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 411.
[378] See Appendix F.
[379] See above, p. 41.
[380] Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 196. “Cessit Andreas Simoni,
frater fratri, minor majori.” Yet before the west front of
the church of Wells there can be no doubt who was there
looked on as the very chiefest apostle.
[381] See Appendix F.
[382] See Appendix F.
[383] Will. Malms. 195. “Sepultus est in ecclesia sancti
Petri, quam a fundamentis erexerat, magno et elaborato
parietum ambitu.”
[384] The like usage is still more remarkable at Durham and
Carlisle, churches which never had an abbot distinct from
the bishop. At Carlisle the “abbey” seems to mean the
monastic precinct rather than the church itself.
[385] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 409. The story is told in the
Winchester Appendix to the Chronicles.
[386] Chron. Wint. App. 1089. “Post ejus [Lanfranci] obitum,
monachi sancti Augustini, præfato abbati suo Widoni palam
resistentes, cives Cantuariæ contra eum concitaverunt, qui
illum armata manu in sua domo interimere temptaverunt. Cujus
familia cum resisteret, pluribus utrimque vulneratis et
quibusdam interfectis, vix abbas inter manus illorum illæsus
evasit, et ad matrem ecclesiam, quærendo auxilium,
_Cantuariam_, _fugit_.” This last odd expression must be
owing to the fact that Saint Augustine’s stood outside the
walls.
[387] Chron. Wint. App. “Coram populo subire disciplinam,
quia palam peccaverant, ii qui advenerant, decreverunt; sed
prior et monachi ecclesiæ Christi, pietate moti,
restiterunt; ne, si palam punirentur, infames deinceps
fierent, sicque eorum vita ac servitus contemneretur. Igitur
concessum est ut in ecclesia fieret, ubi non populus, sed
soli ad hoc electi admitterentur.”
Thierry, who of course colours the whole story after his
fashion, becomes (ii. 140) not a little amusing at this
point. The flogging was done by two monks of Christ Church,
“Wido et Normannus.” If one stopped to think of matters of
nationality at such a moment, we might admire the
impartiality of the Norman bishops in entrusting the painful
duty to a monk of each nation, somewhat on the principle of
a mixed jury. For no one can doubt that Normannus,
_Northman_, was as good an Englishman as Northman the son of
Earl Leofwine and other English bearers of that name.
Thierry, on the other hand, tells us that the whipping was
done by “deux religieux étrangers, appelés Guy et Le
Normand.” He seemingly mistook the Christian name
“Normannus” for the modern surname “Lenormand,” and he
forgot that this last could be borne only by one whose
forefathers had moved from Normandy to some other
French-speaking land.
[388] Chron. Wint. App.
[389] Ib. See N. C. vol. iv. p. 410.
[390] See Lanfranc, Ep. 67 (i. 80, ed. Giles); N. C. vol.
iv. p. 439.
[391] Chron. Petrib. 1089. “On þisum geare se arwurða muneca
feder and frouer Landfranc arcebisceop gewat of þissum life,
ac we hopiað þæt he ferde to þæt heofanlice rice.”
[392] The exact date comes from his Life, 52 (i. 312, ed.
Giles); “anno archiepiscopatus xix, v. calendas Junii diem
clausit extremum.” The Latin Chronicler gives us the exact
measure of his primacy; “In sede pontificali sedit annis
decem et octo, mensibus ix. duobus diebus.” The Life gives
us his epitaph, which begins;
“Hic tumulus claudit quem nulla sub orbe Latino
Gens ignoravit.”
See N. C. vol. ii. p. 636.
[393] Vita Lanfranci, 52 (i. 312, ed. Giles). “Cum immineret
dies ipsius dedicationis, sicut mos est, omnia corpora de
ecclesia elata fuerunt. Tunc quidam frater, sive
curiositate, seu quod magis credibile est, pro reliquiis
habendam de casula gloriosi Lanfranci abscidit particulam;
de qua miri odoris suavitas efflagrabat. Ostendit aliis, qui
et ipsi senserunt odoris fragrantiam. Qua de re intellegi
datur, quod anima illius in magna suavitate requiescit;
cujus corporis indumenta tanto odore redolent.”
[394] Vita Lanf. ib. “Dolor omnibus incomparabilis, et
luctus inconsolabilis suis.”
[395] See the passages from William of Malmesbury quoted in
Appendix G.
[396] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 14. “Cum posthac in regno fuisset
confirmatus, postposita pollicitatione sua, in contraria
dilapsus est. Super quo cum a Lanfranco modeste
redargueretur, et ei sponsio fidei non servatæ opponeretur,
furore succensus, ‘Quis,’ ait, ‘est qui cuncta quæ promittit
implere possit?’ Ex hoc igitur non rectis oculis super
pontificem intendere valebat, licet a nonnullis ad quæ illum
voluntas sua trahebat, ipsius respectu, eo superstite,
temperaverit.”
[397] See above, p. 25.
[398] Will. Malms. iv. 321. “Si quis desiderat scire
corporis ejus qualitatem, noverit eum fuisse corpore
quadrato, colore rufo, crine subflavo, fronte fenestrata,
oculo vario, quibusdam intermicantibus guttis distincto;
præcipuo robore, quamquam non magnæ staturæ, et ventre
paullo projectiore. Eloquentiæ nullæ, sed titubantia linguæ
notabilis, maxime cum ira succresceret.” Cf. the description
of Robert, N. C. vol. iv. p. 633.
[399] So for instance Orderic (667 B); “Rex ergo Rufus
indigenarum hortatu promptior surrexit,” and William of
Malmesbury (iv. 306), “Quomodo adversarios rex Rufus
vicerit.” So again Wace (14496);
“Por devise del nom k’il out,
Ki à son pere ressemblout,
Kar chescun Willame aveit nom,
Out li filz poiz Ros à sornom.”
Presently (14513) he is “li reis Ros.” The use of the
nickname in this way was the more easy, because Rufus was a
real name which had been borne by other men, while nobody
had ever been called _Curthose_. See on the name Martel, N.
C. vol. ii. p. 280; vol. v. p. 569.
I do not know that any one except Matthew Paris has turned
the Red King into a Red Dragon. He does so twice. Hist.
Angl. i. 97, “Rex Willelmus, qui a multis rubeus draco
cognominabatur;” and again, i. 167, “Rex Willelmus, draco
rubeus――sic enim eum appellabant propter tyrannidem.”
[400] M. Gaston le Hardy, the apologist of Duke Robert (Le
Dernier des Ducs Normands, Caen, 1880, p. 41), refers to the
Monasticon and Orderic for the statement that William Rufus
was called “comes” in his father’s life-time. But I cannot
find the places. Has he got hold of any signature of Earl
William Fitz-Osbern?
[401] Will. Malms. iv. 305. “Emensa pueritia, in militari
exercitio adolescentiam egit; equitari, jaculari, certare
cum primævis obsequio, cum æquævis officio. Jacturam
virtutis putare si forte in militari tumultu alter eo prior
arma corriperet, et nisi primus ex adverso provocaret, vel
provocantem dejiceret.”
[402] Ib. “Genitori in omnibus obsequelam gerens, ejus se
oculis in bello ostentans, ejus lateri in pace obambulans.
Spe sensim scaturiente, jam successioni inhians, maximum
post abdicationem fratris majoris, cum et tirocinium minoris
nonnihil suspiceret.”
[403] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 644.
[404] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 629.
[405] A great part of the description of Tiberius given by
Tacitus (Ann. vi. 51) applies to William Rufus; only we
cannot make out quite so many stages in the moral downfall
of the Red King. “Egregium vita famaque quoad privatus vel
in imperiis sub Augusto fuit; occultum et subdolum fingendis
virtutibus donec Germanicus ac Drusus superfuere: idem inter
bona malaque mixtus, incolumi matre.” These are words of
almost the same meaning as some of the expressions of Eadmer
and William of Malmesbury. See specially Eadmer, Hist. Nov.
14; “Confestim [after Lanfranc’s death] rex foras expressit
quod in suo pectore, illo vivente, confotum habuit.” In any
case we may say, “postremo in scelera simul ac dedecora
prorupit, postquam, remoto pudore et metu, suo tantum
ingenio utebatur.” The change in William after Lanfranc’s
death is most strongly brought out by Matthew Paris, Hist.
Angl. i. 38.
[406] This is well drawn out by Dean Church, Anselm, 156,
157.
[407] Ord. Vit. 680 A. “Tenacis memoriæ, et ardentis ad
bonum seu malum voluntatis erat.” Nearly to the same effect
are the words of the Hyde writer (299); “Erat quidem
operibus levis, sed verbis, ut aiunt, in tantum stabilis ut,
si cui bonum vel malum promisisset, certus inde satis
exsistere posset.”
[408] See Appendix G.
[409] See Historical Essays, Second Series, p. 343.
[410] Will. Malms. iv. 312. “Erat in foris et in conventu
hominum tumido vultu erectus, minaci oculo adstantem
defigens, et affectato rigore feroci voce colloquentem
reverberans.”
[411] Ib. “Intus et in triclinio cum privatis, omni lenitate
accommodus, multa joco transigebat; facetissimus quoque de
aliquo suo perperam facto cavillator, ut invidiam facti
dilueret et ad sales transferret.”
[412] This tale is told by William of Malmesbury (iv. 313)
in illustration of the general character of Rufus, as “homo
qui nesciret cujuscumque rei effringere pretium vel æstimare
commercium.” He adds, “vestium suarum pretium in immensum
extolli volebat, dedignans si quis alleviasset.” In the
story which follows, the King’s speech to the chamberlain is
characteristically vigorous; “Indignabundus et fremens,
‘Fili,’ ait, ‘meretricis, ex quo habet rex caligas tam
exilis pretii?’” We are not surprised to hear that the
officer got rich in the service of such a master; “Ita
cubicularius ex eo pretium vestimentorum ejus pro voluntate
numerabat, multa perinde suis utilitatibus nundinatus.” So
there is a story told of a rich patient who despised the
cheapness of Galen’s prescriptions, and asked him to order
something dearer. See Friedländer, Sittengeschichte Roms, i.
339.
[413] Take for instance Suger (Duchèsne, iv. 283); “Ille
opulentus et Anglorum thesaurorum profusor, mirabilisque
militum mercator et solidator.”
[414] See Appendix G.
[415] Will. Malms. iv. 313. “Cui pro libito venditor
distraheret mercimonium et miles pacisceretur stipendium.”
This comes in the passage quoted in the last page.
[416] Ib. “Cum primis initiis regni metu turbarum milites
congregasset, nihil illis denegandum putabat, majora in
futurum pollicitus. Itaque quia paternos thesauros evacuaret
impigre, et modicæ ei pensiones numerabantur, jam substantia
defecerat.”
[417] Ib. “Sed animus largiendi non deerat, quod usu donandi
pene in naturam verterat.”
[418] See the extract from the Chronicle, below, p. 155.
[419] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 621.
[420] Will. Malms. iv. 314. “Cujuscumque conditionis
homunculus, cujuscumque criminis reus, statim ut de lucro
regis appellasset, audiebatur; ab ipsis latronis faucibus
resolvebatur laqueus si promisisset regale commodum.”
[421] See Appendix G.
[422] We shall see some instances as we go on, specially the
story told by William of Malmesbury, iv. 309.
[423] William of Malmesbury, iv. 314. “A buccis miserorum
cibos abstrahentes.”
[424] See Appendix G.
[425] See N. C. vol. v. p. 159. The evil went on under Henry
until the passing of this statute, as we see by the terrible
complaint of the Chronicler in the year 1104; “æfre ealswa
se cyng for, full hergung þurh his hired uppon his wreccea
folc wæs, and þær onmang for oft bærneta and manslihtas.”
[426] Chron. Petrib. 1100. “He wæs swiðe strang and reðe
ofer his land and his mænn and wið ealle his neahheburas,
and swiðe ondrædendlic, and þurh yfelra manna rædas þe him
æfre gecweme wæran and þurh his agene gitsunga, he æfre þas
leode mid here and mid ungylde tyrwigende wæs, forþan þe on
his dagan ælc riht afeoll and ælc unriht for Gode and for
worulde úp aras.”
[427] See N. C. vol. i. pp. 436, 754.
[428] Will. Malms. iv. 319. “Venationes, quas rex primo
indulserat, adeo prohibuit ut capitale esset supplicium
prendisse cervum.” Contrast this with his father’s law in N.
C. vol. iv. p. 621.
[429] The story is told by Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 48. It is
brought in as an illustration of the impiety of Rufus rather
than of his cruelty.
[430] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 48. “Quinquaginta circiter viri
quibus adhuc illis diebus ex antiqua Anglorum ingenuitate
divitiarum quædam vestigia arridere videbantur.”
[431] Ib. “Negant illi; unde statim ad judicium rapti,
judicantur injectam calumniam examine igniti ferri a se
propulsare debere. Statuto itaque die præfixi pœnæ judicii
pariter subacti sunt, remota pietate et misericordia.” Yet,
unless there was some special circumstance of hardship which
is not recorded, this was only the old law of England kept
on by the Conqueror. (See N. C. vol. iv. p. 624; v. pp. 400,
874.) That is, if the accuser was English, and the King’s
reeves and huntsmen were largely English. If the accuser was
French, the accused were entitled to a choice between the
ordeal and the wager of battle. Can Eadmer mean that this
choice was not allowed them?
[432] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 48. “Cum principi esset relatum
condemnatos illos tertio judicii die simul omnes inustis
manibus apparuisse, stomachatus taliter fertur respondisse,
‘Quid est hoc? Deus est justus judex? Pereat qui deinceps
hoc crediderit. Quare per hoc et hoc meo judicio amodo
respondebitur. Non Dei quod pro voto cujusque hinc inde
plicatur.’”
[433] “Judicium” is the usual Domesday name. See N. C. vol.
v. p. 875.
[434] Ord. Vit. 682 C. “Illi modestis vestiebantur
indumentis optimeque coaptatis ad sui mensuram corporis. Et
erant habiles ad equitandum et currendum et ad omne opus
quod ratio suggerebat agendum.”
[435] Ib. “Olim pœnitentes et capti et peregrini usualiter
intonsi erant, longasque barbas gestabant, judicioque tali
pœnitentiam, seu captionem, vel peregrinationem spectantibus
prætendebant.”
[436] Ib. “Post obitum Gregorii papæ et Guillelmi Nothi
aliorumque principum religiosorum, in occiduis partibus pene
totus abolitus est honestus patrum mos antiquorum.” Yet,
unless we go as far north as the sainted Cnut of Denmark, it
is not easy to find any specially devout princes who died
about the same time as Gregory and William.
[437] See Appendix G.
[438] See Appendix G.
[439] Take, above all, the story of Bishop Serlo’s most
practical sermon in Orderic, 815, 816. See N. C. vol. v. p.
844, and Appendix G.
[440] Ord. Vit. 682 B. “Nocte comessationibus et
potationibus vanisque confabulationibus, aleis et tesseris
aliisque ludicris vacabant; die vero dormiebant.”
[441] See Appendix G.
[442] See N. C. vol. v. p. 818. In some manuscripts of
William of Malmesbury (iv. 317) he says distinctly, “Judæi
qui Lundoniæ habitabant, quos pater a Rothomago illuc
traduxerat.”
[443] The Jews meet us at every turn in the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries. At Lincoln and Saint Eadmundsbury they
have left their works. Those of Winchester――their
Jerusalem――shared in the perfection which marked all classes
of men in that city (see Ric. Div. c. 82). In the genuine
“Annals of an English Abbey” (Gest. Abb. i. 193) we may see
something of the “superbia magna et jactantia” which the Jew
Aaron (of Lincoln) displayed at Saint Alban’s.
[444] As in the great massacre at York in 1189. Or the King
himself might, like John, do as he would with his own
chattels.
[445] See Eadmer, Vit. Ans. iii. 5. We shall come across
them again.
[446] Will. Malms. iv. 317. “Apud Londoniam contra episcopos
nostros in certamen animati [Judæi], quia ille ludibundus,
credo, dixisset quod, si vicissent Christianos apertis
argumentationibus confutatos, in eorum sectam transiret.
Magno igitur timore episcoporum et clericorum res acta est,
pia sollicitudine fidei Christianæ timentium.”
[447] Ib. “De hoc quidem certamine nihil Judæi præter
confusionem retulerunt, quamvis multotiens jactarint se non
oratione sed factione superatos.”
[448] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. p. 47. “Ferebant … ad eum
convenire, conquerentes nonnullos ex suis, spreto Judaismo,
Christianos tune noviter factos fuisse, atque rogantes ut,
sumpto pretio, illos, rejecto Christianismo, ad Judaismum
redire compelleret. Adquiescit ille, et, suscepto pretio
apostasiæ, jubet ex Judæis ipsis adduci ad se. Quid plura?
Plures ex illis minis et terroribus fractos, abnegato
Christo, pristinum errorem suscipere fecit.” Eadmer brings
in this story, without pledging himself to its truth, as one
which he, when in Italy, heard from those who came from
Rouen. “Sicut illa accepimus, simpliciter ponam, non
adstruens vera an secus exstiterint, an non. Ferebant igitur
hi qui veniebant,” &c. It is the same story as that which
William of Malmesbury tells, iv. 317; “Insolentiæ in Deum
Judæi suo tempore dedere indicium; semel apud Rothomagum, ut
quosdam ab errore suo refugas ad Judaismum revocarent,
muneribus inflectere conati.”
[449] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. p. 47. The protomartyr pleads his
own example; “Uno dierum per viam forte eunti apparuit alter
juvenis, vultu et veste decorus, qui interrogatus unde vel
quis esset, dixit se jam olim ex Judæo Christianum effectum,
Stephanum protomartyrem esse.”
[450] Ib. “Æstuans quonam modo suis sacris filium posset
restituere, didicit quemadmodum Willielmus rex Anglorum
nonnullos hujusmodi, pecuniæ gratis, nuper Judaismo
reddiderit.” This way of speaking might almost make us think
that the Jew was not living in William’s dominions; yet the
whole tenor of the story, which seems to be laid at Rouen,
looks otherwise. One phrase is odd; “paternis rogat legibus
_imperiali sanctione_ restitui.” William Rufus, as we shall
see, did not forget his imperial as well as his royal
dignity, but Rouen was an odd place in which to show himself
in the imperial character.
[451] Ib. “Tacet ille ad rogata, nondum audiens quamobrem
tali negotio sese deberet medium facere.”
[452] Ib. “Advertit Judæus mysterium cur suis precibus non
responderet, et e vestigio sexaginta marcas argenti se illi
daturum, si Judaismo restitueret filium suum, pollicetur.”
This almost looks as if the Jew thought at first that the
King, out of zeal for the Hebrew cause, would do the job for
him for nothing.
[453] Eadmer, u. s. “Tecum jocarer, stercoris fili? Recede
potius et præceptum meum velocius imple, alioquin per vultum
de Luca faciam tibi oculos erui.” On the oath, see Appendix
G.
[454] Ib. “Confusus princeps in istis, contumeliis affectum
juvenem cum dedecore jussit suis conspectibus eliminari.”
[455] Ib. “Fili mortis et pabulum externæ perditionis, non
sufficit tibi damnatio tua, nisi et me tecum præcipites in
eam? Ego vero cui jam Christus patefactus est absit ut te
unquam pro patre agnoscam, quia pater tuus diabolus est.”
The reference must be to St. John viii. 44; but the pedigree
was a dangerous one for a presumptive grandson to meddle
with.
[456] Ib. “Ecce feci quod rogasti, redde quod promisisti.”
[457] Eadmer, u. s. “Filius meus jam nunc et in Christi
confessione constantior et mihi est solito factus infestior;
et dicis”――mark the scriptural turn――“‘Feci quod petisti,
redde quod promisisti?’ Immo quod cœpisti primo perfice, et
tunc demum de pollicitis age. Sic enim convenit inter nos.”
[458] Ib. “Feci quantum potui; verum, quamvis non
proficerim, minime tamen feram me sine fructu laborasse.”
[459] Ib. 54. “Quod Deus nunquam eum bonum habiturus esset
pro malo quod sibi inferret.” The words are spoken to Bishop
Gundulf. Eadmer comments; “In cunctis erat fortunatus, ac si
verbis ejus hoc modo respondit Deus, ‘Si te pro malo, ut
dicis, numquam bonum habebo, probabo an saltem pro bono
possim te bonum habere, et ideo in omni quod tu bonum
æstimas velle tuum adimplebo.’”
[460] Eadmer, 48. “Ad hoc quoque lapsus est ut Dei judicio
incredulus fieret, injustitiæque illud arguens, Deum aut
facta hominum ignorare, aut æquitatis ea lance nolle pensare
adstrueret.” Then follows the story of the deer-stealers
which I have told in p. 155. Mark Eadmer’s firm belief in
the ordeal, which had not yet been condemned by the Church.
[461] Ib. 47. “Ferebatur eum in tantam mentis elationem
corruisse ut nequaquam patienter audire valeret, si quivis
ullum negotium quod vel a se vel ex suo præcepto foret
agendum, poneret sub conditione voluntatis Dei fieri. Sed
quæque acta simul et agenda suæ soli industriæ ac
fortitudini volebat adscribi.” We have his like in Kapaneus,
Æsch. Sept. c. Theb. 409;
θεοῦ τε γὰρ θέλοντος ἐκπέρσειν πόλιν
καὶ μὴ θέλοντος φησὶν, οὐδὲ τὴν Διὸς
ἔριν πέδῳ σκήψασαν ἐκποδὼν σχέθειν.
[theou te gar thelontos ekpersein polin
kai mê thelontos phêsin, oude tên Dios
erin pedô skêpsasan ekpodôn schethein.]
[462] Ib. “Quæ mentis elatio ita excrevit in eo ut,
quemadmodum dicebatur, crederet et publica voce assereret
nullum sanctorum cuiquam apud Deum posse prodesse, et ideo
nec se velle, nec aliquem sapientem debere, beatum Petrum
seu quemlibet alium quo se juvaret interpellare.”
[463] Joinville, p. 217 ed. Michel; “Le roy ama tant Dieu et
sa douce mère que touz ceulz que il pooit atteindre qui
disoient de Dieu ne de sa mère chose déshoneste ne vilein
serement, que il les fesoit punir griefment.” He goes on to
tell how, like Saint Wulfstan (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 386)
but unlike Saint Eadward (ib. ii. p. 26), he never swore nor
mentioned the devil.
[464] Giraldus (de Inst. Prin. c. iii. 11) gives a specimen
of his blasphemies, and adds, “quibus ne memoriæ refricatio
facinus atque blasphemiam posteris ad mentem revocet,
supersedere potius quam paginam nostram commaculare dignum
duximus.”
[465] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 54. “In tantum ex successibus suis
profecit ut, sicut hi qui factis ejus die noctuque præsentes
exstiterunt attestantur, numquam vel de lecto surgeret vel
in lecto se collocaret, quin seipsum aut collocante aut
surgente semper deterior esset.”
[466] See Appendix G.
[467] See Appendix G.
[468] See Appendix G.
[469] See N. C. vol. i. p. 255.
[470] See Appendix H.
[471] Twice under the same year 1091 the Chronicler adds to
the record of a treaty concluded by Rufus that it “litle
hwile stode.”
[472] See above, p. 143.
[473] I refer to the story of the Angevin knights at Ballon,
told by Orderic (772 C, D). We shall come to it in a later
chapter.
[474] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 220.
[475] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 438.
[476] This was at the siege of Padua in 1509. “Maximilien
fit proposer à La Palisse de faire mettre pied à terre à sa
gendarmerie pour monter à l’assaut avec les landsknechts.
Mais d’après le conseil de Bayard, La Palisse répondit que
la gendarmerie française était toute composée de
gentilshommes, et qu’il ne serait pas convenable de la faire
combattre pêle-mêle avec les fantassins allemands, qui
étaient roturiers.” Sismondi, Rép. Ital. xiv. 26.
[477] The story of the massacre of Limoges, the most truly
chivalrous deed ever done, is well known. It will be found
in Froissart, i. 289 (vol. i. p. 401, ed. Sauvage).
[478] Hallam, who thoroughly understood Henry the Eighth,
adds in a note (Const. Hist. i. 36); “After all, Henry was
every whit as good a king and man as Francis I, whom there
are still some, on the other side of the channel, servile
enough to extol; not in the least more tyrannical and
sanguinary, and of better faith towards his neighbours.” The
famous letter of Francis about all being lost except honour
is now disbelieved, but it is characteristic all the same. I
have said something about this in the Fortnightly Review,
December, 1876.
It is singular enough that in 1546 some reader of the
“Normanniæ Nova Chronica,” after the entries about the
misdeeds of William Rufus in 1098, bursts out (p. 9) into a
fierce invective against the vices and oppressions of
Francis the First, as far surpassing those of Rufus. If men
murmured in 1098, how much more reason had they to murmur in
1546.
[479] There is nothing special to note as to the authorities
for this chapter, except that we now begin to make some
little use of the Lives of the Bishops of Le Mans in
Mabillon’s Vetera Analecta, of which we shall have to make
much larger use in a later chapter.
Since this chapter was written and partly printed, I have
come across a book called “Le Dernier des Ducs Normands.
Étude de Critique Historique sur Robert Courte-Heuse; par
Gaston le Hardy (Caen, 1880).” It is a gallant apology for
Duke Robert, who however, it seems, cannot be set up without
a cruel setting down both of Orderic and of King Henry. M.
le Hardy believes in the false Ingulf and seems to be an
enemy to Italian freedom. He has worked with care at his
authorities, and I have to thank him for a few references;
but his style of criticism is odd. In p. 47 he argues
against the last speech of the Conqueror in Orderic――a
speech very open to argument against it on other
grounds――because William is there made to confess that he
had no right to the English crown. This at least cannot be.
“Comment croire que le Conquérant, dont les droits légitimes
à la couronne d’Angleterre étaient au moins fondés sur des
apparences très-respectables, _puisqu’elles décidèrent le
Pape à se prononcer en sa faveur_, se soit appliqué à les
désavouer, et à démentir ainsi toute sa vie.” I think more
highly both of the intellect and of the conscience of
William the Great. I can conceive his being led to repent of
his sins, even though the Pope told him that they were no
sins. M. le Hardy, like so many of his countrymen, seems
unable to understand any English matter, and he seems never
to have looked at any English or German book.
I let my estimate of Robert stay where it was. His character
is best summed up in the portrait drawn by William of
Malmesbury at the end of his fourth book;
“Patria lingua facundus ut sit jocundior nullus; in aliis
consiliosus ut nihil excellentius; militiæ peritus ut si
quis unquam; pro mollitie tamen animi nunquam regendæ
reipublicæ idoneus judicatus.”
I think I have throughout done justice to Robert’s military
skill――it was more than mere daring――and to his gifts as a
counsellor of others.
[480] Chron. Petrib. 1089. “Swilc eac gewarð ofer eall
Engleland mycel eorðstyrunge, on þone dæg iii. Id. Aug.”
Will. Malms. iv. 322. “Secundo anno regni ejus terræ motus
ingens totam Angliam exterruit tertio idus Augusti, horrendo
miraculo, ut ædificia omnia eminus resilirent, et mox
pristino more residerent.” Some annals, as those of Plympton
(Liebermann, 26), directly connect the events. “Obiit
Lanfrancus archiepiscopus, et terra mota est.”
[481] Chron. u. s. “And wæs swiðe lætsum gear on corne and
on ælces cynnes wæstmum, swa þæt manig man ræpon heora corn
onbuton Martines mæssan and gyt lator.” “Vix ad festum
sancti Andreæ,” says William of Malmesbury.
[482] Chron. Petrib. 1090. “And betwyx þisum þingum þis land
wæs swiðe fordón on unlaga gelde and on oðre manige
ungelimpe.”
[483] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 558, 638.
[484] Ib. p. 493.
[485] Ord. Vit. 708 B. He does not say distinctly at what
stage he means. Geoffrey Gaimar (Chron. Angl. Norm. i. 35)
has an elaborate picture of Robert at his greatest;
“Li quens Robert, cil de Belesme,
Mil chevalers out en son esme;
En Engleterre out treis contez,
Quens de Pontif estait clamez,
Si ert conte de Leneimeis,
D’Esparlon e de Sessuneis;
Sue estait Argenton, Seis,
Roche-Mabilie estait en sa pœs.
En Rom out rues assez.
Il esteit quen de sis contez;
Ço ert le meillur chevaler
Ke l’em séust pur querreier.
Cil vint à son seignur le rei,
Mil chevalers menat od sei.”
He then goes on to mention his brothers. (See above, p. 37.)
Many of the places on this list will come in our story.
“Rom,” it is hardly needful to say, is only the capital of
Normandy, not of the world. But what are the three counties
in England? There is Shropshire, and most likely Sussex.
What is the third? Yorkshire, on the strength of Tickhill?
But Robert had no earldom there.
[486] Ord. Vit. 675 D.
[487] Hen. Hunt. De Cont. Mund. 11. “Gens ipsis dæmonibus
horrenda.”
[488] See N. C. vol. i. p. 468. The Archdeacon of Huntingdon
himself, with a slight contempt of sex and species, calls
him “Pluto, Megæra, Cerberus, vel si aliquid horrendi scribi
potest.” He speaks of the proverb, “Mirabilia Roberti de
Belesme.”
[489] See his two pictures in Orderic, 675 C, D, and 707 C,
D. In his character of engineer we shall meet him at Gisors.
See 766 B.
[490] Ord. Vit. 707 D. “Magis affectabat supplicia miseris
inferre quam per redemptionem captivorum pecunias augere.”
So Hen. Hunt. u. s. Yet, as some of his captives escaped, he
lost the ransom for nothing.
[491] Ib. “Homines privatione oculorum et amputatione pedum
manuumve deformare parvipendebat, sed inauditorum
commeditatione suppliciorum in torquendis miseris more
Siculi Phalaris tripudiabat. Quos in carcere pro reatu
aliquo stringebat, Nerone seu Decio vel Diocletiano sævior,
indicibiliter cruciabat, et inde jocos cum parasitis suis et
cachinnos jactabundus exercebat. Tormentorum quæ vinctis
inferebat delectatione gloriabatur, hominumque detractione
pro pœnarum nimietate crudelis lætabatur.” The special
detail of the impaling comes from Henry of Huntingdon, who
says also, “Erat ei cædes horribilis hominum cibus jucundus
animæ.”
[492] Will. Malms. v. 398. “Simulationis et argutiarum
plenus, frontis sereno et sermonum affabilitate credulos
decipiens, gnaros autem malitiæ exterritans, ut nullum esset
majus futuræ calamitatis indicium quam prætensæ
affabilitatis eloquium.” Something of the same kind was said
of King Henry himself. See N. C. vol. v. p. 841.
[493] Ord. Vit. 708 B. She at last escaped to Countess Adela
at Chartres, and got to her own land of Ponthieu.
[494] The story is told with the difference spoken of in the
text by Henry of Huntingdon (de Cont. Mundi, 11) and by
William of Malmesbury (v. 398). Henry says only, “Filioli
sui oculos sub chlamide positi quasi ludens pollicibus
extraxit.” William supplies a kind of motive; “Puerulum ex
baptismo filiolum, quem in obsidatum acceperat, pro modico
delicto patris excæcarit, lumina miselli unguibus nefandis
abrumpens.” That is, the Archdeacon makes the ugly story
still uglier, just as in the case of the children of
Juliana. See N. C. vol. v. pp. 157, 841.
[495] Ord. Vit. 708 A. “Ob insolentiam et cupiditatem
plurima contra collimitaneos prælia cœpit; sed sæpe victus
cum damno et dedecore aufugit.”
[496] See further on in this chapter.
[497] Ord. Vit. 675 D.
[498] See Ord. Vit. 707 D for the Bishop; ib. 678 A and
Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 127 for the Abbot. With the
bishopric there was a question of the right of advowson;
“Episcopium contra jus et fas comprimebat, et Guillelmo
Belesmensi avo ejus a Ricardo duce datum asserebat.” Cf. on
the bishopric of Le Mans, N. C. vol. iii. p. 194. From the
Abbot too he demanded an oath of allegiance, “de sacramento
et homagio abbatem exagitare.” This was in Henry’s time.
[499] Ord. Vit. 668 C. “Robertus Belesmensis qui patri tuo
fuit valde dilectus, et multis honoribus olim ab ipso
promotus.” See above, p. 84.
[500] Hen. Hunt. u. s. “Quem tantopere fama coluerat dum
viveret, in carcere utrum viveret vel obisset, nescivit,
diemque mortis ejus obmutescens ignoravit.”
[501] Will. Malms. v. 407. “Homo antiquæ simplicitatis et
fidei, qui crebro a Willelmo primo invitatus ut Angliam
veniret, largis ad voluntatem possessionibus munerandus,
supersedit, pronuncians patrum suorum hæreditatem se velle
fovere, non transmarinas et indebitas possessiones vel
appetere vel invadere.” (Cf. N. C. vol. iv. p. 448.) We have
heard of him already; N. C. vol. ii. p. 201; iii. 288, 380,
386; iv. 82, 192, 475, 645.
[502] See the story in p. 186.
[503] Will. Malms. u. s.; Will. Pict. 134; Will. Gem. vii.
4; Ord. Vit. 709 A.
[504] This Norman Beaumont must be distinguished from the
French and Cenomannian Beaumonts which we shall meet with,
just as there is a Norman, a French, and a Cenomannian
Montfort.
[505] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 487.
[506] Will. Malms. v. 407. “Cum superiorum regum tempore,
spe sensim pullulante, in gloriam procederet, hujus
[Henrici] ætate summo provectu effloruit, habebaturque ejus
consilium quasi quis divinum consuluisset sacrarium.” So
Hen. Hunt. de Cont. Mund. 7. “Fuit Robertus consul de
Mellend in rebus secularibus sapientissimus omnium hinc
usque in Jerusalem degentium.”
[507] We shall see this presently in the story of Helias.
See Ord. Vit. 773 B.
[508] See N. C. vol. v. p. 828.
[509] Hen. Hunt. u. s. “Fuit scientia clarus, eloquio
blandus, astutia perspicax, providentia sagax, ingenio
versipellis, prudentia insuperabilis, consilio profundus,
sapientia magnus.” A goodly string of synonyms. William of
Malmesbury (u. s.) gives more details. He was “suasor
concordiæ, dissuasor discordiæ,” “in placitis propugnator
justitiæ, in guerris provisor victoriæ, dominum regem ad
severitatem legum custodiendam exacuens, ipse non eas
sequens sed proponens, expers in regem perfidiæ, in ceteros
ejus persecutor.” He was “ingentis in Anglia momenti, ut
inveteratum vestiendi vel comedendi exemplo suo inverteret
morem.” He brought in the “consuetudo semel prandendi,”
contrary to the custom of Harthacnut.
[510] We shall see him in both characters as we go on. See
Appendix Y. He stood firmly by the King in the matter of
investiture. See Will. Malms. v. 417.
[511] Will. Malms. v. 406. This was when Pope Calixtus came
into Normandy in 1110. See N. C. vol. v. p. 191.
[512] See N. C. vol. v. pp. 197, 207, 288.
[513] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 192.
[514] I do not quite understand the story in Henry of
Huntingdon (8) about another earl depriving Robert of his
wife or bride; “Contigit quemdam alium consulem sponsam ei
tam factione quam dolosis viribus arripuisse. Unde in
senectute sua mente turbatus et angaria obnubilatus, in
tenebras mœroris incidit, nec usque ad mortem se lætum vel
hilarem sensit.” Earl Robert’s widow, Elizabeth or Isabel of
Crépy or Vermandois, was presently married again to the
younger Earl William of Warren. (See Ord. Vit. 686 B, 723 D,
805 D; Will. Gem. viii. 40, 41.) Was there anything
irregular or scandalous about the marriage? Count Robert
married her in 1096, so that, as he was distinctly old at
his death in 1118, she must have been far from young. His
children therefore were children of his advanced life, which
lessens the difficulty about the child whom his daughter
Isabel is said to have borne to King Henry late in his
reign. (Will. Gem. viii. 29; cf. 37; and see N. C. vol. v.
p. 844.)
[515] Hen. Hunt. u. s. “Ut terras quas vi vel arte multis
abstulerat, pœnitens redderet, et erratum lacrimis lavaret.”
Would this extend to English grants from the Conqueror? One
might almost suspect that his father thought so.
[516] Ib. “Filiis omnia tradam; ipsi pro salute defuncti
misericorditer agant.”
[517] Ib. “Filii ejus magis injuste congregata injuste
studuerunt augere quam aliquid pro salute paterna
distribuere.”
[518] Ord. Vit. 659 B. “Indubitanter scio quod vere misera
erit regio quæ subjecta fuerit ejus dominio. Superbus enim
est et insipiens nebulo, trucique diu plectendus
infortunio.” See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 705, 854. The words must
of course take their share of the doubts which can hardly
fail to attach to the long speech of which they form a part;
but they are more likely than most parts of it to have been
preserved by a trustworthy tradition. On the speech see
Church, Anselm, 147.
[519] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 191.
[520] There is more than one passage in Orderic setting
forth the wretched state of things in Normandy under Robert.
See 664 B; 672 B, C; 675 A, B; 677 B. In the first passage
he gives a personal description, not unlike that quoted in
N. C. vol. iv. p. 633; “Omnes ducem Robertum mollem esse
desidemque cognoscebant, et idcirco facinorosi eum
despiciebant et pro libitu suo dolosas factiones agitabant.
Erat quippe idem dux audax et validus, multaque laude
dignus, eloquio facundus, sed in regimine sui suorumque
inconsideratus, in erogando prodigus, in promittendo
diffusus, _ad mentiendum levis et incautus_, misericors
supplicibus, ad justitiam super iniquo faciendam mollis et
mansuetus, in definitione mutabilis, in conversatione
omnibus nimis blandus et tractabilis, ideoque perversis et
insipientibus despicabilis. Corpore autem brevis et grossus,
ideoque _Brevis-ocrea_ a patre est cognominatus.” Cf. Roman
de Rou, 14470.
The words about Robert’s tendency to falsehood would seem to
imply, not so much deliberate lying as that kind of
carelessness of truth which is quite of a piece with the
rest of his character.
On the technical use of the word _justice_, see N. C.
vol. v. pp. 157, 253, 320, 520; cf. ii. 33, 40, 173.
[521] Ord. Vit. 672 B. “Provincia tota erat dissoluta, et
prædones catervatim discurrebant per vicos et per rura,
nimiumque super inermes debacchabatur latrunculorum caterva.
Robertus dux nullam super malefactores exercebat
disciplinam, et grassatores per octo annos sub molli
principe super imbecillem populum suam agitabant furiam.”
Perhaps the most striking character of Robert is that which
is given of him by one who had studied him in two parts of
the world, Ralph of Caen in his Gesta Tancredi, c. xv.
(Muratori, v. 291). The virtues of Robert were “pietas”――in
the sense of _pity_――and “largitas.” But he carried both
virtues so far that they became vices. “Pietas largitasque
valde fuissent mirabiles; sed quia in neutra modum tenuit,
in utraque erravit.” He goes on to describe Robert at
greater length; “Siquidem misericordiam ejus immisericordem
sensit Normannia, dum eo consule per impunitatem rapinarum
nec homini parceret nec Deo licentia raptorum. Nam sicariis
manibus, latronum gutturi, mœchorum caudæ salaci, eamdem
quam suis se reverentiam debere consul arbitrabatur.
Quapropter nullus ad eum vinctus in lacrimis trahebatur,
quin solutus mutuas ab eo lacrimas continuo impetraret.
Ideo, ut dixi, nullis sceleribus frænum, immo omnibus
additum calcar ea tempestate Normannia querebatur.” Of
Robert’s bounty he goes on to say that he would give any sum
for a hawk or a dog; “Hujus autem pietatis sororculam eam
fuisse patet largitatem, quæ accipitrem, sive canem argenti
summa quantalibet comparabat.”
[522] Orderic is plain-spoken enough on this head in 672 B.
[523] Ib. “Episcopi ex auctoritate Dei exleges
anathematizabant. Theologi _prolatis sermonibus_ Dei reos
admonebant. Sed his omnibus tumor et cupiditas cum
satellitibus suis immoderate resistebant.”
[524] See N. C. vol. v. p. 46. Cf. vol. iv. p. 688.
[525] Orderic (664 B) records Robert’s doings at Alençon and
Bellême, and adds, “Hoc quoque fecit Bellismæ, et omnibus
aliis castellis suis, et non solum suis, sed et in vicinorum
suorum, quos sibi pares dedignabatur habere, municipiis, quæ
aut intromissis clientibus sibi subjugavit, aut penitus, ne
sibi aliquando resistere possent, destruxit.”
[526] Ib. He adds a reflexion in his character of
“Angligena.” “Sic proceres Neustriæ de munitionibus suis
omnes regis custodes expulerunt, patriamque divitiis
opulentam propriis viribus vicissim exspoliaverunt. Opes
itaque quas Anglis aliisque gentibus violenter rapuerunt,
merito latrociniis et rapinis perdiderunt.”
[527] Ord. Vit. 672 C. “Adulterina passim municipia
condebantur, et ibidem filii latronum ceu catuli luporum ad
dilacerandas bidentes nutriebantur.” Our Chronicler was yet
more vigorous when he peopled the castles with devils and
evil men, A. D. 1135. The “adulterina municipia” are the
castles built without the Duke’s licence. See N. C. vol. ii.
p. 193. For the German laws on the same subject, see Maurer,
Einleitung, p. 24. M. le Hardy (60) amusingly mistakes the
“municipia” for “quelques communes.”
[528] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 537, 638.
[529] Ord. Vit. 664 C. “Guillelmo de Britolio dedit
Ibericum, ubi arx quam Albereda proavia ejus fecit
fortissima est. Et Rogerio de Bellomonte, qui solebat
Ibericum jussu Guillelmi regis custodire, concessit
Brioniam, quod oppidum munitissimum et in corde terræ situm
est.” On Ivry, see N. C. vol. i. p. 258. See Will. Gem.
viii. 15, where the same story is told as by Orderic. On
Brionne, see N. C. vol. ii. pp. 196, 268, 624.
[530] Ord. Vit. 664 C. “Cunctis placere studebat, cunctisque
quod petebant aut dabat aut promittebat vel concedebat.
Prodigus dominium patrum suorum quotidie imminuebat,
insipienter tribuens unicuique quod petebat, et ipse
pauperescebat, unde alios contra se roborabat.”
[531] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 709.
[532] The passages from Orderic which set forth Henry as the
heir of his mother have been discussed in N. C. vol. iv. p.
854 (cf. pp. 320, 629), as also the expression of William of
Malmesbury (v. 392) which implies that the Conqueror
bequeathed Matilda’s lands to Henry, or directed that
Matilda’s earlier bequest should take effect. The same
writer also just before speaks (v. 391) of Henry, after his
father’s death, as “paterna benedictione et materna
hæreditate simul et multiplicibus thesauris [“gersuman
unateallendlice” in the Chronicle] nixus.” Wace also says
(14484),
“E Henris out des déniers asez
Ke sis peres li out donez,
Partie out del tresor son pere
E grant partie out de sa mere.”
[533] Ord. Vit. 665 C. “Opes quas habebat militibus ubertim
distribuit, et tironum multitudinem pro spe et cupidine
munerum sibi connexuit. Deficiente ærario Henricum fratrem
suum, ut de thesauro sibi daret, requisivit. Quod ille
omnino facere noluit.”
[534] N. C. vol. i. p. 170.
[535] Ib. vol. i. p. 191.
[536] Ib. vol. ii. p. 249.
[537] The purchase is thus described by Orderic (ib.);
“Henricus duci tria millia librarum argenti erogavit, et ab
eo totum Constantinum pagum, quæ tertia Normanniæ pars est,
recepit. Sic Henricus Abrincas et Constantiam, Montemque
sancti Michaëlis in periculo maris, totumque fundum Hugonis
Cestrensis consulis, quod in Neustria possidebat, primitus
obtinuit.” This of course does not mean any disseisin of
Earl Hugh, but only the transfer of his homage from Robert
to Henry. For other versions of the transaction, see
Appendix I.
[538] See N. C. vol. i. p. 302.
[539] Ord. Vit. 665 C. “Constantiniensem provinciam bene
gubernavit, suamque juventutem laudabiliter exercuit.” He
was hardly twenty years old. So 689 C; “Constantinienses
Henricus clito strenue regebat.”
[540] He is “Henricus clito [Ætheling], Constantiniensis
comes” in Orderic, 672 D; “comes Henricus” in Will. Gem.
viii. 3.
[541] Ord. Vit. 672 D. “In Angliam transfretavit et a fratre
suo terram matris suæ requisivit.” The date is fixed by the
words “postquam certus rumor de Rofensis [oppidi] deditione
citra mare personuit.”
[542] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 164, 759.
[543] Ord. Vit. 672 D. “Rex Guillelmus benigniter eum, ut
decuit fratrem, suscepit, et quod poterat fraterne
concessit. Deinde, peractis pro quibus ierat, in autumno
regi valefecit.” An actual possession of something seems
implied in the words of Orderic, 689 C, “Regi Angliæ hostis
erat pro terra matris suæ, qua rex eumdem in Anglia
dissaisiverat, et Roberto Haimonis filio dederat.”
[544] See Appendix GG.
[545] See N. C. vol. v. p. 853; Ord. Vit. 681 A.
[546] This flight is Orderic’s own. In 673 A we have,
“Baiocensis Odo, velut ignivolus draco projectus in terram.”
[547] Ib. 672 D, “Baiocensis tyrannus;” 673 A, “pessimus
præsul Odo.” This last phrase comes at the beginning of
Odo’s speech in the Duke’s council; at the end of it our
historian has waxed milder, and tells us (674 A) how
“exhortatoriam antistitis allocutionem omnes qui aderant
laudaverunt.”
[548] Ord. Vit. 673 A. “Variis seditionibus commovebat
Normanniam, ut sic de aliquo modo nepoti suo, a quo turpiter
expulsus fuerat, machinaretur injuriam.”
[549] Orderic here (672 D) speaks only of “quidam malevoli
discordiæ satores … falsa veris immiscentes.” But surely the
Bishop was at their head.
[550] I think we may accept this circumstantial account of
Orderic. For other versions, see Appendix I.
[551] Ord. Vit. 672 D. “Rogerius comes Scrobesburiæ, ut
Robertum filium suum captum audivit, accepta a rege
licentia, festinus in Neustriam venit, et omnia castella sua
militari manu contra ducem munivit.”
[552] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 297.
[553] Ord. Vit. 673 A. “Ipsum nempe dux multum metuebat, et
quibusdam consiliis ejus adquiescebat, quædam vero flocci
pendebat.”
[554] At least there were others besides the Duke to hear
and to cheer. See p. 198, note 4.
[555] Ord. Vit. 673 B. “Reminiscere patrum et proavorum,
quorum magnanimitatem et virtutem pertimuit bellicosa gens
Francorum.” It is curious to see how often Norman patriotism
falls back on the memory of the wars with France rather than
on the conquest of England. So it is in the speech of Walter
of Espec before the battle of the Standard. See N. C. vol.
v. p. 832.
[556] Ib. 673 D. “Hoc nimirum horrenda mors eorum
attestatur, quorum nullus communi et usitato fine, ut cæteri
homines, defecisse invenitur.”
[557] See Ord. Vit. 708 B.
[558] See above, p. 193.
[559] The only entry which the Chronicler has on Rufus’ wars
in Maine is the short one in 1099 (more was said about the
expedition of the elder William in 1063), but some parts of
the Norman war are given in great detail.
[560] See N. C. vol. v. pp. 543-563, 652-655.
[561] Ib. vol. iii. pp. 182-215.
[562] Ib. vol. iv. pp. 483, 557, 827.
[563] Ib. vol. iv. p. 652.
[564] Ib. vol. iv. pp. 635, 657.
[565] N. C. vol. iv. p. 563.
[566] Ord. Vit. 673 C. “Normannorum dux et Cœnomannorum
princeps nomine tenus multis annis factus est.”
[567] Ord. Vit. 531 A. “Cœnomanis, _a canina rabie dicta_,
urbs est antiqua, et plebs ejus finitimis procax et
sanguinolenta, dominisque suis semper contumax et
rebellionis avida.” Following the diphthongal spelling of
the text, one might rather be tempted to derive the name
from the _commune_ or κοινόν [koinon] set up by its _men_.
[568] N. C. vol. iii. pp. 167, 203, 209-212.
[569] Ib. iv. 546-555.
[570] Ib. vol. iii. p. 197.
[571] Ib. vol. iv. pp. 545, 560, 563.
[572] Mabillon, Vet. An. 288. “Favore totius cleri ejusdem
ecclesiæ decanum statuerat; in quo gradu tanto amore totius
populi erga se illexit affectum, ut eo jam tempore non
minorem quam episcopo omnes illi reverentiam exhiberent….
Unde factum est, ut post decessum memorati antistitis in
electionem ipsius omnes unanimiter convenirent, ipsumque
episcopatu dignissimum voce consona proclamarent.”
[573] Ord. Vit. 531 B. “‘Ecce in capella tua est quidam
pauper clericus, sed nobilis et bene morigeratus. Huic
præsulatum commenda in Dei timore, quia dignus est (ut
æstimo) tali honore.’ Regi autem percunctanti quis esset,
Samson respondit: ‘Hoëlus dicitur, et est genere Brito; sed
humilis est, et revera bonus homo.’” On Samson himself, see
N. C. vol. iv. p. 641.
[574] N. C. vol. iv. p. 478.
[575] Ord. Vit. 531 C. “Ei curam et seculare jus
Cœnomanensis episcopatus commisit” I have elsewhere spoken
of this kind of document in England (N. C. vol. ii. p. 588).
Only it would seem that in England the King either acted
wholly of himself or else confirmed an election already made
by the Chapter. Here the Chapter, as in later times, elects
on the King’s recommendation.
[576] Ib. “Decretum regis clero insinuatum est, et præfati
clerici bonæ vitæ testimonium ab his qui noverunt ventilatum
est. Pro tam pura et simplici electione devota laus a
fidelibus Deo reddita est, et electus pastor ad caulas ovium
suarum ab episcopis et reliquis fidelibus, quibus hoc a rege
jussum fuerat, honorifice perductus est.” The _regale_, or
rather _ducale_, comes out strongly in these matters, as it
always does in Normandy.
[577] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 194.
[578] Vet. An. 290. “Celeberrimum est enim Cenomannensis
ecclesiæ præsulem post Turonensem archiepiscopum totius
Turonensis diœceseos obtinere primatum.” _Diœcesis_ here
stands for province, as _parochia_ constantly stands for
diocese.
[579] Vet. An. 288. “Quia propter contentionem quæ inter
Vvillum regem Anglorum, et Fulconem Andegavorum comitem de
eodem episcopatu exorta erat, Radulfus Turonorum
archiepiscopus Turonis eum ordinare non potuit, ipsius
assensu atque præcepto omniumque suffraganeorum ejus, cum
magno honore ordinatus est in Rotomago civitate, a domno
Willelmo ejusdem urbis archiepiscopo xi. Kalend. Maii, anno
ab Incarnatione Domini millesimo lxxxv.”
[580] See Appendix MM.
[581] Vet. An. 290. “Cum fames populum oppressisset,
essetque impossibile unius copiis generalem afflictorum
indigentiam sustentari, _ex communi cleri plebisque
consilio_, aurum et argentum quod erat in tabula altaris
sanctorum martyrum Gervasii et Protasii pius temerator
accepit; illudque fideli dispensatione pauperibus erogavit.”
Compare the action of Abbot Leofric of Saint Alban’s, and
the “prædictæ rationes” which led him so to act, together
with the argument of Matthew Paris with regard to its
lawfulness; Gest. Abb. i. 29, 30.
[582] See N. C. vol. iii. pp. 159, 465.
[583] Ib. vol. iv. p. 659.
[584] See Appendix KK.
[585] Ord. Vit. 674 B. “Paganus de Monte Dublabelis, cum
aliis contumacibus castrum Balaonem tenebat et venienti duci
cum turmis suis acriter resistebat.”
[586] N. C. vol. iii. p. 122.
[587] Ord. Vit. 674 B. “Post plurima damna utriusque partis,
Balaonenses pacem cum duce fecerunt.”
[588] Ord. Vit. 674 D. “Habitatoribus hujus municipii quies
et pax pene semper defuit, finitimique Cenomannenses, seu
Normanni insistunt. Scopulosum montem anfractus Sartæ
fluminis ex tribus partibus ambit, in quo sanctus Cerenicus
venerandus confessor tempore Milehardi Sagiorum pontificis
habitavit.”
[589] In local belief, Saint Cenery on his own ground seems
to have supplanted the Archangel himself as the weigher of
souls.
[590] On surnames of places, see N. C. vol. v. p. 573.
[591] Ib. vol. ii. p. 233.
[592] Ord. Vit. 674 D. “Carolo Simplice regnante, dum
Hastingus Danus cum gentilium phalange Neustriam depopulatus
est, sanctum corpus a fidelibus in castrum Theodorici
translatum est et dispersis monachis monasterium
destructum.” Yet at a later time (see Ord. Vit. 706 D) Saint
Cenery still possessed an arm of the eponymous saint, though
monks of Seez, not of Saint Cenery, were its keepers; and
there is still a bone or fragment of a bone under the high
altar of the parish church which claims to be a relic of
him.
[593] Ib. “Sanguinarii prædones ibi speluncam latronum
condiderunt,” “scelesti habitatores,” &c.
[594] Unless Orderic’s words just quoted are mere rhetoric,
we must infer that the site of the castle, and not the site
of the present church, had been the site of the forsaken
monastery. Well suited as the whole peninsula was for the
purposes of a castle, the actual isthmus, where three small
knolls rise above the general level of the hill, must have
been the most tempting spot of all. On two of the knolls
remains of its masonry are still to be seen, and the
outworks reach far down the hill on its western side. The
place seems to have been a simple fortress, with no town or
village, beyond such houses as may have grown up around the
castle.
[595] Orderic tells the story, 674 C.
[596] See the extract in the last page.
[597] N. C. vol. iv. p. 184.
[598] N. C. vol. iii. p. 169.
[599] Ord. Vit. 674 D. “Ibi familia Roberti Belesmensis
erat, cui Robertus Quadrellus, acerrimus miles et multo
vigore conspicuus, præerat, qui hortatu Rogerii comitis
obsidentibus fortiter obstabat.” The modern form of
“Quadrellus” would be “Carrel.” “Fulcherius Quarel” appears
among the knights of Perche bearing harness under Philip
Augustus; Duchèsne, p. 1032.
[600] Ord. Vit. 674 D. “Præfatus municeps jussu irati ducis
protinus oculis privatus est. Aliis quoque pluribus qui
contumaciter ibidem restiterant principi Normanniæ [this
almost sounds like the wording of an indictment] debilitatio
membrorum inflicta est ex sententia curiæ.”
[601] N. C. vol. i. pp. 445, 476.
[602] This is told by Orderic, 674 D. He adds, “Ille fere
xxxvi annis postmodum tenuit, muris et vallis zetisque
munivit, et moriens Guillermo et Roberto filiis suis
dereliquit.” Yet he lost it for a season to the old enemy.
See 706 D.
[603] Ord. Vit. 675 A. “Municipes Alencionis et Bellesmi
aliarumque munitionum, ut audierunt quam male contigerit
Roberto Quadrello et complicibus qui cum eo fuerant, valde
territi sunt, et ut debitas venienti duci munitiones
redderent, consilium inierunt.” But the words which
immediately follow are; “Verum Robertus ab incœpta virtute
cito defecit, et mollitie suadente ad tectum et quietem
avide recurrit, exercitumque suum, ut quisque ad sua
repedaret, dimisit.” This leaves it not quite clear, whether
he stayed to receive in person the surrenders which were
ready for him.
[604] The site of the true castle of Bellême may easily be
distinguished from the later fortress. The native home of
Mabel stands quite apart from the hill on which the town and
the later castle stand, being cut off from it by art. The
chapel is but little altered, and has a crypt, the way down
to which reminds one of Saint Zeno and other Italian
churches.
[605] See note 1, last page.
[606] Ord. Vit. 675 A. “Per dicaces legatos a duce pacem
filiique sui absolutionem postulans, multa falso pollicitus
est.” Robert, he adds, “qui improvidus erat et instabilis,
ad lapsum facilis, ad tenendum justitiæ rigorem mollis, ex
insperato frivolis pactionibus infidorum adquievit.” It is
now that Orderic gives us his full picture of Robert of
Bellême and his doings.
[607] Ord. Vit. 675 B. “Liberatus intumuit, jussa ducis
atque minas minus appretiavit, præsentisque memor injuriæ
diutinam multiplicemque vindictam exercuit.”
[608] Ib. 681 D. “Tunc Edgarus Adelinus, et Robertus
Bellesmensis, atque Guillelmus de Archis monachus
Molismensis præcipui ducis consiliarii erant”――an oddly
assorted company. This is in 1090.
[609] Ib. 677 A. “Optimatum suorum supplicationibus
adquiescens, Henricum fratrem suum concessit, et a vinculis
in quibus cum Roberto Belesmensi constrictus fuerat
absolvit.”
[610] Ib. 689 C. “Constantienses Henricus clito strenue
regebat, rigidusque contra fratres suos persistebat. Nam
contra ducem inimicitias agitabat pro injusta captione quam
nudiustertius, ut prædictum est, ab illo perpessus fuerat.
Regi nihilominus Angliæ hostis erat pro terra matris suæ.”
[611] Ord. Vit. 689 C. “Oppida sua constanter firmabat, et
fautores sibi de proceribus patris sui plurimos callide
conciliabat. Abrincas et Cæsarisburgum et Constantiam atque
Guabreium, aliasque munitiones possidebat, et Hugonem
comitem et Ricardum de Radveriis, aliosque Constantinienses,
præter Robertum de Molbraio, secum habuit, et collectis
undique viribus prece pretioque quotidie crescebat.”
[612] Ord. Vit. 680 B. “Turmas optimatum adscivit, et
Guentoniæ congregatis quæ intrinsecus ruminabat sic ore
deprompsit.” The Chronicler tells us, under 1090, how “se
cyng wæs smægende hu he mihte wrecon his broðer Rodbeard
swiðost swencean, and Normandige of him gewinnan.” The
custom of holding the Easter Gemót at Winchester seems to
fix this assembly to Easter. 1090.
The continuance of the three yearly assemblies is well
marked by William of Malmesbury in the Life of Wulfstan
(Ang. Sac. iii. 257); “Rex Willelmus consuetudinem induxerat
[that is, he went on with what had been done T. R. E.], quam
successores aliquamdiu tritam consenescere permisere. Ea
erat, ut ter in anno cuncti optimates ad curiam convenirent,
de necessariis regni tractaturi, simulque visuri regis
insigne, quomodo iret gemmato fastigiatus diademate.”
[613] Ord. Vit. 680 C. “Commoneo vos omnes qui patris mei
homines fuistis et feudos vestros in Normannia et Anglia de
illo tenuistis, ut sine dolo ad probitatis opus mihi
viriliter unanimiter faveatis.”
[614] Ib. “Colligite, quæso, concilium, prudenter inite
consilium, sententiam proferte, quid in hoc agendum sit
discrimine. Mittam, si laudatis, exercitum in Normanniam, et
injuriis quas mihi frater meus sine causa machinatus est
talionem rependam. Ecclesiæ Dei subveniam, viduas et
orphanos inermes protegam, fures et sicarios gladio justitiæ
puniam.”
[615] See N. C. vol. ii. pp. 93, 95.
[616] Ord. Vit. 680 C. “His dictis omnes assensum dederunt
et _magnanimitatem_ regis collaudaverunt.”
[617] See above, p. 60.
[618] See above, p. 177.
[619] Plutarch, Reg. et Imp. Apoph. Philip. 15.
[620] Æsch. Pers. 861;
ὅσσας δ’ εἷλε πόλεις, πόρον οὐ διαβὰς Ἄλυος ποταμοῖο,
οὐδ’ ἀφ’ ἑστίας συθείς.
[hossas d’ heile poleis, poron ou diabas Alyos
potamoio, oud’ aph’ hestias sytheis.]
[621] Chron. Petrib. 1090. “Ðeah þurh his geapscipe, oððe
þurh gærsuma he begeat þone castel aet S[~c]e Waleri and þa
hæfenan, and swa he begeat þone æt Albemare.” This is
followed by William of Malmesbury, iv. 307, who translates
the passage, “Castrum Sancti Walerici, et portum vicinum. et
oppidum quod Albamarla vocatur, sollertia sua acquisivit,
pecunia custodes corrumpens.” Florence however calls it
“castellum Walteri de Sancto Walarico.” This might be
understood of any castle belonging to Walter of Saint
Valery; and the change might be taken either as having the
force of a correction or as showing that Florence did not
understand what he found in the Chronicles. I do not find
any mention of the taking of Saint Valery, or of any
possession of Walter of Saint Valery, anywhere except in the
English writers. Walter, who is more than once mentioned by
Orderic (724 B, 729 D) as a crusader, was of the house of
the Advocates of Saint Valery of whom I have spoken
elsewhere (N. C. vol. iii. pp. 131, 393).
[622] N. C. vol. iv. pp. 557, 643.
[623] Ib. vol. iii. p. 157.
[624] Ib. vol. ii. p. 632.
[625] Ord. Vit. 681 A. “Primus Normannorum Stephanus de
Albamarla filius Odonis Campaniæ comitis regi adhæsit, et
regiis sumptibus castellum suum super Aucium flumen
vehementer munivit, in quo validissimam regis familiam
contra ducem suscepit.” Florence calls it “castellum Odonis
de Albamarno.”
[626] Chron. Petrib. 1090. “And þarinne he sette his
cnihtas, and hi dydon hearmes uppon þam lande on hergunge
and on bærnete.”
[627] N. C. vol. iii. p. 153; vol. iv. p. 280.
[628] Ib. vol. iii. p. 226.
[629] Ib. vol. iii. p. 93.
[630] Domesday, 18. “Rex W. dedit comiti [de Ow]
castellariam de Hastinges.”
[631] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 152.
[632] See above, p. 59.
[633] N. C. vol. iv. p. 733; vol. v. p. 560.
[634] As Barrow _Gurney_ in Somerset.
[635] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 121.
[636] Ord. Vit. 681 A. “Gornacum et Firmitatem et Goisleni
fontem, aliasque munitiones suas regi tradidit, finitimosque
suos regiæ parti subjicere studuit.”
[637] N. C. vol. iv. pp. 39, 737.
[638] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 201.
[639] See above, p. 209.
[640] Will. Gem. vii. 4. See N. C. vol. i. p. 465. The
kindred is also implied in the fact that William of Breteuil
was the nephew of both Ralph and William. See Ord. Vit. 688
B, D, and below, p. 266.
[641] Ord. Vit. 687 D. “Perstrepentibus undique præliis in
Neustria, securitate pacis perfrui non poterat Ebroicensis
provincia. Illic nempe plus quam civile bellum inter
opulentos fratres exortum est, et maligna superbarum
æmulatione mulierum malitia nimis augmentata est. Heluisa
namque comitissa contra Isabelem de Conchis pro quibusdam
contumeliosis verbis irata est, comitemque Guillelmum cum
baronibus suis in arma per iram commovere totis viribus
conata est. Sic per suspiciones et litigia feminarum in
furore succensa sunt fortium corda virorum, quorum manibus
paulo post multus mutuo cruor effusus est mortalium, et per
villas et vicos multarum incensa sunt tecta domorum.”
[642] She was the daughter of William the First, Count of
Auxerre and Nevers, by his first wife Ermengarde, daughter
of Reginald Count of Tonnerre. See Art de Vérifier les
Dates, ii. 559.
[643] Orderic has two pictures of her. In the second (834
B), drawn a few years later than our present time, when
Count William “natura senioque aliquantum hebescebat,” we
read, “Uxor ejus totum consulatum regebat, quæ in sua
sagacitate plus quam oporteret confidebat. Pulcra quidem et
facunda erat, et magnitudine corporis pene omnes feminas in
comitatu Ebroarum consistentes excellebat, et eximia
nobilitate, utpote illustris Guillelmi Nivernensis comitis
filia, satis pollebat. Hæc nimirum consilio baronum mariti
sui relicto, æstimationem suam præferebat, et ardua nimis
secularibus in rebus plerumque arripiebat atque immoderata
temptare properabat.” Elsewhere (688 A), he says, “Ambæ
mulieres quæ talia bella ciebant, loquaces et animosæ, ac
forma elegantes erant, suisque maritis imperabant, subditos
homines premebant, variisque modis terrebant.” When Orderic
(576 C), recording Isabel’s widowhood and religious
profession, speaks of her as “letalis lasciviæ cui nimis in
juventute servierat pœnitens,” the word need not be taken in
the worst sense. He uses (864 A) the same kind of language
of Juliana daughter of Henry the First, who, whatever she
was as a daughter, seems to have been a very good wife and
mother.
[644] Ord. Vit. 834 B. “Pro feminea procacitate Rodberto
comiti de Mellento aliisque Normannis invidiosa erat.”
[645] Ord. Vit. 576 B, C.
[646] Ib. 834 C.
[647] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 605, 643.
[648] Ord. Vit. 688 A. “Magna in eisdem morum diversitas
erat. Heluisa quidem solers erat et facunda, sed atrox et
avara. Isabel vero dapsilis et audax atque jocosa, ideoque
coessentibus amabilis et grata. In expeditione inter
milites, ut miles, equitabat armata, et loricatis equitibus
ac spiculatis satellitibus non minori præstabat audacia quam
decus Italiæ Turni manipularibus virgo Camilla.” He goes on
to liken her to Penthesileia and all the other Amazons.
[649] Ib. “Radulfus Robertum ducem adivit, querelas damnorum
quæ a contribulibus suis pertulerat intimavit, et herile
adjutorium ab eo poposcit; sed frustra, qui nihil obtinuit.”
[650] Ib. B. “Hinc alias conversus est, et utile sibi
patrocinium quærere compulsus est. Regem Angliæ per legatos
suos interpellatur, eique sua infortunia mandavit, et si
sibi suffragaretur, se et omnia sua permisit. His auditis
rex gavisus est, et efficax adminiculum indigenti pollicitus
est. Deinde Stephano comiti et Gerardo de Gornaco, aliisque
tribunis et centurionibus qui præerant in Normannia familiis
ejus, mandavit ut Radulfum totis adjuvarent nisibus et
oppida ejus munirent necessariis omnibus.”
[651] Ord. Vit. 681 A. “Robertus Aucensium comes, et
Gauterius Gifardus et Radulfus de Mortuomari, et pene omnes
qui trans Sequanam usque ad mare habitabant, _Anglicis
conjuncti sunt_.”
[652] Ib. “De regiis opibus ad muniendas domos suas armis et
satellitibus copiosam pecuniam receperunt.”
[653] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 644.
[654] Ord. Vit. 681 A. “Robertus dux contra tot hostes
repagulum paravit, filiamque suam quam de pellice habuerat,
Heliæ filio Lamberti de Sancto Sidonio conjugem dedit.”
[655] N. C. vol, i. p. 253.
[656] Will. Gem. viii. 37.
[657] Ord. Vit. 681 B. “Archas cum Buris et adjacente
provincia in maritagio tribuit, ut adversariis resisteret
Calegiique comitatum defenderet. Ille vero jussa viriliter
complere cœpit.”
[658] Neufchâtel-en-Bray, famous for cheeses.
[659] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 121.
[660] Ord. Vit. 681 B. “Roberto duci et Guillelmo filio ejus
semper fidelis fuit, et sub duobus regibus Guillelmo et
Henrico multa pertulit, labores videlicet ac
exhæreditationem, damna, exsilium, ac multa pericula.” See
N. C. vol. v. pp. 84, 182.
[661] N. C. vol. ii. p. 254.
[662] N. C. vol. iv. p. 700.
[663] Will. Malms. iv. 307. “Domino suo regi Franciæ per
nuntios violentiam fratris exposuit, suppetias orans. Et
ille quidem iners, et quotidianam crapulam ructans, ad
bellum singultiens ingluvie veniebat.”
[664] The place is not mentioned in the Chronicles nor in
any other of our accounts, except by Robert of Torigny in
the Continuation of William of Jumièges, viii. 3. He tells
his story backwards in a very confused way, and mixes up the
events of this year and the next; “Facta est itaque tandem
inter eos [Robertum et Willelmum] apud Cadomum, ut diximus,
adminiculante Philippo rege Francorum, qui in auxilium ducis
contra Willelmum regem apud oppidum Auci ingenti Anglorum et
Normannorum exercitu tunc morantem venerat, qualiscumque
concordia.” This means the peace of 1092, when William was
in Normandy, and when Philip certainly did not come to Eu.
On the other hand, William was certainly not at Eu in 1091.
But as Philip did in 1091 come to some castle which must
have been either Eu, Aunde, or Gournay, we may perhaps
accept this as evidence in favour of Eu.
[665] Chron. Petrib. 1090. “Se cyng Willelm of Englalande
sende to Philippe Francena cynge, and he _for his lufan oððe
for his_ mycele gersuma, forlet swa his man þone eorl
Rodbeard and his land, and ferde ongean to France, and let
heom swa weorðan.” The spirit is lost in the Latin of
Florence; “Quod cum regi Willelmo nuntiatum esset, non
modica pecuniæ quantitati regi Philippo occulte transmissa,
ut obsidione dimissa, domum rediret, flagitavit et
imperavit.”
[666] Will. Malms. iv. 307. “Occurrerunt magna pollicenti
nummi regis Angliæ, quibus infractus cingulum solvit et
convivium repetiit.”
[667] Macaulay, Hist. Eng. iv. 265. “The Elector of Saxony …
had, together with a strong appetite for subsidies, a great
desire to be a member of the most select and illustrious
orders of knighthood.” For this last passion there was as
yet no room, but William Rufus did a good deal towards
bringing about the state of things in which it arose.
[668] N. C. vol. ii. p. 318.
[669] So are the Norman reigns of Geoffrey Plantagenet and
his son Henry. But their position in Normandy was quite
different from Robert’s, while they claimed England in quite
a different sense from the claims of Robert, and had――the
son at least had――partisans there.
[670] N. C. vol. v. pp. 85, 95, 96.
[671] The character of this Count Geoffrey (son of the
Rotrou who figures in the war of the Conqueror and his son,
N. C. vol. iv. pp. 637, 639) as drawn by Orderic (675 D; see
above, p. 183) is worth studying; “Erat idem consul
magnanimus, corpore pulcher, et callidus, timens Deum et
ecclesiæ cultor devotus, clericorum pauperumque Dei defensor
strenuus, in pace quietus et amabilis, bonisque pollebat
moribus.” Yet he was also “in bello gravis et fortunatus,
finitimisque intolerabilis regibus et inimicus [cis?]
omnibus.” Moreover “multas villas combussit multasque prædas
hominesque adduxit.” The truth is that the curse of private
warfare drew the best men, no less than the worst, into the
common whirlpool; and, once in arms, they could not keep
back their followers from the usual excesses, even if any
such thought occurred to themselves. Cf. Ord. Vit. 890 B for
another mention of Geoffrey.
[672] See above, p. 184.
[673] Ord. Vit. 685 A, B. This Gilbert is son of Eginulf,
who died at Senlac (N. C. vol. iii. p. 503, note), and
brother of Richer, who died before Sainte-Susanne (N. C.
vol. iv. p. 659). His sister Matilda married Robert of
Mowbray.
[674] Ib. 684 D, 685 C, D; Will. Gem. viii. 15. The
offender, a man of Belial, was Ascelin surnamed Goel. The
marriage was blessed or cursed with the birth of seven sons,
all, according to both our authorities, of evil report.
[675] See above, p. 194. The bandying of words, as given by
Orderic (686 A), is worth notice; “Robertus comes Mellenti
muneribus et promissis Guillelmi regis turgidus de Anglia
venit, Rothomagum ad ducem accessit, et ab eo arcem Ibreii
procaciter repetiit. Cui dux respondit, Æquipotens mutuum
patri tuo dedi Brioniam nobile castrum pro arce Ibreii.
Comes Mellenti dixit, Istud mutuum non concedo, sed quod
pater tuus patri meo dedit habere volo. Alioqui per sanctum
Nigasium faciam quod tibi displicebit. Iratus igitur dux
illico eum comprehendi et in carcere vinciri præcepit, et
Brioniam Roberto Balduini filio custodiendam commisit.” This
Robert in 686 D sets forth his pedigree, as grandson of
Count Gilbert the guardian of the Conqueror (see N. C. vol.
ii. pp. 195, 196). He was nephew of Richard of Bienfaite
(see above, p. 68), the founder of the house of Clare.
[676] He is now brought in as “callidus senex.”
[677] Ord. Vit. 686 C. The Duke speaks of the old Roger’s
“magna _legalitas_,” “_loyalty_,” according to its
etymology. Is it characteristic of the “callidus senex” that
he addresses the Duke as “vestra sublimitas,” “vestra
serenitas,” and thanks him for imprisoning his son,
“temerarium juvenem”? Yet it was twenty-four years since the
exploits of Robert of Meulan at Senlac.
[678] Ib. D. “Ob hoc ingens pecuniæ pondus promisit.”
[679] Ib. 687 A.
[680] Ib. A, B. “Tunc calor ingens incipientis æstatis, et
maxima siccitas erant, quæ forinsecus expugnantes admodum
juvabant. Callidi enim obsessores in fabrili fornace quæ in
promptu structa fuerat, ferrum missilium calefaciebant,
subitoque _super tectum principalis aulæ_ in munimento
jaciebant, et sic ferrum candens sagittarum atque pilorum in
arida veterum lanugine imbricum totis nisibus figebant.”
[681] Ib. “Sic Robertus dux ab hora nona Brioniam ante solis
occasum obtinuit, quam Guillelmus pater ejus cum auxilio
Henrici Francorum regis sibi vix in tribus annis subigere
potuit.” See N. C. vol. ii. p. 268.
[682] See above, p. 234.
[683] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 145, 451.
[684] Ib. vol. v. pp. 466, 474.
[685] Ord. Vit. 689 D. “Hujus nimirum factionis incentor
Conanus Gisleberti Pilati filius erat, qui inter cives,
utpote ditissimus eorum, præcellebat. Is cum rege de
tradenda civitate pactum fecerat, et immensis opibus ditatus
in urbe vigebat, ingentemque militum et satellitum familiam
contra ducem turgidus jugiter pascebat.”
[686] Ib. 691 A. “Guillelmus Ansgerii filius, Rodomensium
ditissimus.” This is after Conan’s death.
[687] Ib. 689 D. “Cives Rothomagi regiis muneribus et
promissis illecti de mutando principe tractaverunt, ac ut
Normanniæ metropolim _cum somnolento duce_ regi proderent
consiliati sunt.”
[688] Ib. “Maxima pars urbanorum eidem adquiescebant.
Nonnulli tamen pro fide duci servanda resistebant, et
opportunis tergiversationibus detestabile facinus
impediebant.”
[689] Ord. Vit. 689 D. “Conanus de suorum consensu
_contribulium_ securus, terminum constituit.” Orderic most
likely means nothing in particular by this odd word
“contribules.” But the later history of free cities supplies
a certain temptation to begin thinking of gilds, _Zünfte_,
_Geschlechter_, _abbayes_, and _alberghi_.
[690] Ib. “Dux, ubi tantam contra se machinationem
comperiit, amicos in quibus confidebat ad se convocavit.”
[691] Ord. Vit. 690 A. “Henricus igitur primus ei suppetias
venit, et primo subsidium fratri contulit, deinde vindictam
viriliter in proditorem exercuit.”
[692] Ib. “Fidelibus suis desolationem sui cita legatione
intimavit.”
[693] Ib. See above, p. 76, and N. C. vol. iv. p. 654.
[694] See above, p. 242. He was killed next year. See Ord.
Vit. 685 B.
[695] This earlier castle of the dukes must be carefully
distinguished from the _Vieux Palais_, which, though it is
no longer standing, still lives in street nomenclature. This
last was the work of our Henry the Fifth, and lay to the
west, between the Roman wall and the wall of Saint Lewis.
On this side of the city the modern street lately called
_Rue de l’Impératrice_, and now promoted to the name of _Rue
Jeanne Darc_, is not a bad guide. It runs a little outside
of the Roman wall and may fairly represent its fosse. So the
other great modern street called _Rue de l’Hôtel de Ville_,
and now _Rue Thiers_, runs a little further outside the
northern wall of the ancient city, which is marked by the
_Rue de la Ganterie_.
[696] On this side again a modern street helps us. The _Rue
de la République_, lately _Rue Impériale_, marks, though
less accurately than the others, the eastern side of the
city. The Rebecq may be traced for a little way, but it
presently loses itself, or at least is lost to the inquirer.
[697] Ord. Vit. 690 B. See below, p. 255.
[698] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 203.
[699] “Archimonasterium” is a title of Saint Ouen’s. See
Neustria Pia, 1.
[700] See N. C. vol. ii. pp. 183, 468.
[701] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 704.
[702] The “Tour de la Grosse Horloge” and the gate close by
are conspicuous features in that quarter of Rouen. The noble
Palace of Justice was not even represented in the times with
which we have to do.
[703] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 706.
[704] Neustria Pia, 611.
[705] Ord. Vit. 690 A. “Ad Calcegiensem portam properavit.”
[706] Ord. Vit. 690 A. “Jampridem quidam de regiis
satellitibus in urbem introierant, et parati, rebellionem
tacite præstolantes, seditionis moram ægre ferebant.”
[707] Ib. B. “Dum militaris et civilis tumultus exoritur,
nimius hinc et inde clamor attollitur, et tota civitas
pessime confunditur, et in sua viscera crudeliter
debacchatur. Plures enim civium contra cognatos vicinosque
suos ad utramque portam dimicabant, dum quædam pars duci, et
altera regi favebant…. Dum perturbationis ingens tumultus
cuncta confunderet, et nesciretur quam quisque civium sibi
partem eligeret.”
[708] Ib. B. “Dux ubi furentes, ut dictum est, in civitate
advertit, cum Henrico fratre suo et commanipularibus suis de
arce prodiit, suisque velociter suffragari appetiit.”
[709] Ord. Vit. 690 B. “Ne perniciem inhonestam stolido
incurreret, cunctisque Normannis perenne opprobrium fieret.”
[710] Ib. “Fugiens cum paucis per orientalem portam egressus
est, et mox a suburbanis vici, qui Mala-palus dicitur,
fideliter ut specialis herus susceptus est.”
[711] Ord. Vit. 690 B. “Cimba parata Sequanam intravit, et
relicto post terga conflictu trepidus ad Ermentrudis-villam
navigavit. Tunc ibidem a Guillelmo de Archis Molismensi
monacho susceptus est, ibique in basilica sanctæ Mariæ de
Prato finem commotæ seditionis præstolatus est.” On this
William of Arques, see above, p. 220.
William of Malmesbury (v. 392) has quite another account, in
which the Duke’s flight is not spoken of, and in which Henry
at least urges him to action; “Regios eo interdiu venientes,
qui dolo civium totam jampridem occupaverant urbem, probe
expulit [Henricus], admonito per nuntios comite ut ille a
fronte propelleret quos ipse a tergo urgeret.” This account
does not come in its chronological place, but in William’s
account of the early life of Henry. And he misconceives the
date, placing the revolt of Rouen after the coming of
William into Normandy; “Willelmo veniente in Normanniam uti
se de fratre Roberto ulcisceretur, comiti obsequelam suam
exhibuit [Henricus], Rotomagi positus.”
[712] Ord. Vit. 690 C. “Regia cohors territa fugit,
latebrasque silvarum quæ in vicinio erant, avide poscens,
delituit, et subsidio noctis discrimen mortis seu captionis
difficulter evasit.”
[713] On the different versions of the death of Conan in
Orderic and in William of Malmesbury, see Appendix K.
[714] Ord. Vit. 690 C. “Considera, Conane, quam pulcram tibi
patriam conatus es subjicere.”
[715] Ord. Vit. 690 C. “En, ad meridiem delectabile parcum
patet oculis tuis. En saltuosa regio silvestribus abundans
feris. Ecce Sequana piscosum flumen Rotomagensem murum
allambit, navesque pluribus mercimoniis refertas huc
quotidie devehit.”
[716] Ib. D. “En ex alia parte civitas populosa, mœnibus
sacrisque templis et urbanis ædibus speciosa, cui jure a
priscis temporibus subjacet Normannia tota.”
[717] Ib. “Pro redemptione mei domino meo aurum dabo et
argentum, quantum reperire potero in thesauris meis
meorumque parentum, et pro culpa infidelitatis fidele usque
ad mortem rependam servitium.”
[718] Ord. Vit. 690 C. “Per animam matris meæ, traditori
nulla erit redemptio, sed debitæ mortis acceleratio.”
[719] Ib. “Conanus gemens clamavit alta voce; Pro amore,
inquit, Dei, confessionem mihi permitte.”
[720] Ib. “Henricus acer fraternæ ultor injuriæ præ ira
infremuit.” Simple wrath is an attribute which we are more
used to assign to Henry the Second, with his hereditary
touch of the Angevin devil, than to the calm, deliberate,
Henry the First. Yet we can understand how, through the
stages of the “ironica insultatio,” as Orderic calls Henry’s
discourse to Conan, a determination taken in cold blood
might grow into the fierce delight of destruction at the
actual moment of carrying it out.
[721] See Appendix K.
[722] Ord. Vit. 691 A. “Locus ipse, ubi vindicta hujusmodi
perpetrata est, saltus Conani usque in hodiernam diem
vocitatus est.”
[723] See above, p. 190.
[724] Ord. Vit. 691 A. “Robertus dux, ut de prato ad arcem
rediit et quæ gesta fuerant comperit, pietate motus
infortunio civium condoluit, sed, fortiori magnatorum
censura prævalente, reis parcere nequivit.”
[725] Ord. Vit. 691 A. “Robertus Belesmensis et Guillelmus
Bretoliensis affuerunt, et Rodomanos incolas velut exteros
prædones captivos abduxerunt, et squaloribus carceris
graviter afflixerunt…. Sic Belesmici et Aquilini ceterique
ducis auxiliarii contra se truculenter sæviunt, civesque
metropolis Neustriæ vinculatos attrahunt, cunctisque rebus
spoliatos, ut barbaros hostes male affligunt.”
[726] Ib. “A Guillelmo Bretoliensi ducitur captivus, et post
longos carceris squalores redimit se librarum tribus
millibus.”
[727] See above, p. 243.
[728] Ib. 688 B. “Mense Novembri Guillelmus comes ingentem
exercitum aggregavit, et Conchas expugnare cœpit.” One would
like to know what number passed for “ingens exercitus” in
this kind of warfare.
[729] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 713.
[730] Ib. p. 713.
[731] Ord. Vit. 834 C. “Prædictus comes et Heluisa comitissa
dangionem regis apud Ebroas funditus dejecerunt.”
[732] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 204.
[733] On the foundation of the abbey of Conches or
Castellion, see Neustria Pia, 567, and the passages from
Orderic and William of Jumièges there cited. William (vii.
22) puts it among the monasteries founded in the reign of
William the Great, and calls its founder Ralph. But Orderic
(460 A) attributes the foundation to a Roger, seemingly the
old Roger who came back from Spain. I can hardly accept the
suggestion in Neustria Pia that the Roger spoken of is the
young Roger of whom we shall presently hear, the son of
Ralph and Isabel, and that he was joint-founder with his
father Ralph.
Orderic twice (493 B, 576 A) distinguishes Ralph of
_Conches_, the husband of Isabel, from his father Roger of
_Toesny_; “Rodulphus de Conchis, Rogerii Toenitis filius,”
“Radulfus de _Conchis_, filius Rogerii de Toënia.”
[734] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 534.
[735] Will. Gem. vii. 22.
[736] Ord. Vit. 688 B.
[737] Ord. Vit. 688 B. “Dum cœnobialem curiam beati Petri
Castellionis invaderet, nec pro reverentia monachorum, qui
cum fletibus vociferantes Dominum interpellabant, ab
incœptis desisteret, hostili telo repente percussus est,
ipsoque die cum maximo luctu utriusque partis mortuus est.”
He is described as “formidabilis marchisius.”
[738] Ib. C. “Radulfus pervalidum agmen de suis, et de
familia regis habuit.”
[739] Ib. “Cupidis tironibus foras erumpere dixit, Armamini
et estote parati, sed de munitione non exeatis donec ego
jubeam vobis. Sinite hostes præda onerari, et discedentes
mecum viriliter insectamini. Illi autem principi suo, qui
probissimus et militiæ gnarus erat, obsecundarunt, et
abeuntes cum præda pedetentim persecuti sunt.” Cf. the same
kind of policy on the part of the Conqueror, N. C. vol. iii.
p. 152.
[740] Ib. “Ebroicenses erubescentes quod guerram superbe
cœperant et inde maximi pondus detrimenti cum dedecore
pertulerant, conditioni pacis post triennalem guerram
adquieverunt.” The peace was clearly made about the end of
1090 or the very beginning of 1091. The three years of war
must therefore be reckoned from the death of the Conqueror,
or from some time not long after.
[741] Ord. Vit. 688 D. He had at least two natural children,
a daughter Isabel, of whom we have already heard (see above,
p. 243), and a son Eustace, who succeeded his father in the
teeth of all collateral claimants. Eustace is best known as
the husband of Henry the First’s natural daughter Juliana
(see N. C. vol. v. p. 157, _note_), in whose story we come
again to the ever-disputed tower of Ivry. See Will. Gem.
viii. 15; Ord. Vit. 577 B; 810 C; 848 B, C.
[742] Ib. “Ebroicensis quoque comes eundem Rogerium, utpote
nepotem suum, consulatus sui heredem constituit.” This was
to the prejudice of his nephew Amalric of Montfort, son of
his whole sister Agnes, and half-brother of Isabel. After
Count William’s death in 1108, the strivings after his
county were great and long, till Amalric recovered full
possession in 1119. Ord. Vit. 863 C.
[743] Ib. “Pretiosis vestibus quibus superbi nimis
insolescunt, uti dedignabatur, et in omni esse suo sese
modeste regere nitebatur.” This must be taken in connexion
with Orderic’s various protests against the vain fashions of
the day, especially the great one in p. 682.
[744] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 219; iv. p. 448.
[745] Ord. Vit. 688 D. “Quondam milites otiosi simul in Aula
Conchis ludebant et colloquebantur, et coram domina
Elisabeth de diversis thematibus, ut mos est hujusmodi,
confabulabantur.” Then follows this beautiful story of the
three dreams.
[746] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 130.
[747] Ord. Vit. 689 A. “Dextera sua me benedicentem,
signumque crucis super caput meum benigniter facientem.”
[748] He married their daughter Godehild, the former wife of
Robert, son of Henry Earl of Warwick. See Ord. Vit. 576 C;
Will. Gem. viii. 41. The strange story of his two later
marriages does not concern us, and the way in which he
became Count of Edessa was hardly becoming in a holy
warrior.
[749] See N. C. vol. v. pp. 94, 819, and Appendix HH.
[750] Ord. Vit. 689 C.
[751] Ib. 784 B.
[752] Ib. 834 C. There is a singular contrast in the words
with which Orderic disposes of the dead bodies of the Count
and the Countess; “_Comitissa_ nempe defuncta prius apud
Nogionem _quiescit_; comes vero, postmodum apoplexia
percussus, sine viatico decessit, et _cadaver ejus_ cum
patre suo Fontinellæ _computrescit_.”
[753] See above, p. 233.
[754] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 496.
[755] Ord. Vit. 691 A, B. “Ecce quibus ærumnis superba
profligatur Normannia, quæ nimis olim victa gloriabatur
Anglia, et naturalibus regni filiis trucidatis sive fugatis
usurpabat eorum possessiones et imperia. Ecce massam
divitiarum quas aliis rapuit eisque pollens ad suam
perniciem insolentur tumuit, nunc non ad delectamentum sui
sed potius ad tormentum miserabiliter distrahit.” He has an
earlier reflexion to the same effect (664 B); “Sic proceres
Neustriæ … patriam divitiis opulentam propriis viribus
vicissim exspoliaverunt, opesque quas Anglis aliisque
gentibus violenter rapuerunt merito latrociniis et rapinis
perdiderunt.”
[756] Ord. Vit. 691 A, B. “Soli gaudent, sed non diu nec
feliciter, qui furari seu prædari possunt pertinaciter.”
[757] Ib. “In diebus illis non erat rex neque dux
Hierusalem, aureisque vitulis Jeroboam rebellis plebs
immolabat in Dan et Bethel.” We are used to this kind of
analogy whenever any one goes after a wrong Pope; but
Normandy, with all its crimes, seems to have been perfectly
orthodox.
[758] Ib. C. “Multa intueor in divina pagina quæ subtiliter
coaptata nostri temporis eventui videntur similia. [Every
age, except perhaps the eighteenth, has made the same
remark.] Ceterum allegoricas allegationes et idoneas humanis
moribus interpretationes studiosis rimandas relinquam,
simplicemque Normannicarum historiam rerum adhuc
aliquantulum protelare satagam.” This praiseworthy resolve
reminds us of an earlier passage (683 B) where he laments
the failure of the princes and prelates of his day to work
miracles, and his own inability to force them to the needful
pitch of holiness; “Ast ego vim illis ut sanctificentur
inferre nequeo. Unde his omissis super rebus quæ fiunt
veracem _dictatum_ facio.”
It would seem from this that Orderic dictated his book. (See
also his complaint in 718 C, when at the age of sixty he
felt too old to write and had no one to write for him.) We
need not therefore infer in some other cases that, because
an author dictated, therefore he could not write.
[759] The Chronicle (1091) says expressly, “On þisum geare
se cyng Willelm heold his hired to X[~p]es messan on
Wæstmynstre, and þæræfter to Candelmæssan he ferde for his
broðer unþearfe ut of Englalande into Normandige.” So
Florence; “Mense Februario rex Willelmus junior Normanniam
petiit.” Orderic (696 D) seems to place his voyage a little
earlier; “Mense Januario Guillelmus Rufus rex Anglorum cum
magna classe in Normanniam transfretavit.” But he places it
late in the month; for in 693 B, having recorded the death
of Bishop Gerard on January 23, he adds that the King’s
voyage happened “eadem septimana.”
[760] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 234.
[761] Richard of Courcy’s son Robert married Rohesia, one of
the many daughters of Hugh of Grantmesnil. Ord. Vit. 692 A.
[762] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 197.
[763] Ord. Vit. 691 C.
[764] See Appendix L.
[765] Ord. Vit. 693 B. “Cujus [Guillelmi] adventu audito,
territus dux cum Roberto aliisque obsidentibus actutum
recessit, et unusquisque propria repetiit.” He is more
emphatic in 697 A; “Robertus de Belesmo cum suis complicibus
aufugit.”
[766] Ord. Vit. 693 B. “Mox omnes pene Normannorum optimates
certatim regem adierunt, eique munera, recepturi majora, cum
summo favore contulerunt. Galli quoque et Britones et
Flandritæ, ut regem apud Aucum in Neustria commorari
audierunt, aliique plures de collimitaneis provinciis, ad
eum convenerunt. Tunc magnificentiam ejus alacriter experti
sunt, domumque petentes cunctis cum principibus suis
divitiis et liberalitate præposuerunt.”
[767] On the Treaty of 1091, see Appendix M.
[768] See above, p. 221.
[769] Ord. Vit. 693 B. “Tunc ingentia Robertus dux a rege
dona recepit.”
[770] See Appendix M; and for the affairs of Maine, see
below, Chapter VI.
[771] William of Malmesbury (v. 392) is becomingly strong on
this head; “Parum hic labor apud Robertum valuit, virum
animi mobilis, qui statim ad ingratitudinem flexus, bene
meritum urbe cedere coegit.” This comes just after the death
of Conan. His whole account is very confused.
[772] See N. C. vol. v. pp. 87-90.
[773] Ib. vol. v. p. 328
[774] Ib. vol. v. p. 388.
[775] Ib. vol. v. p. 89.
[776] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 288, 796.
[777] Ib. vol. iii. p. 7; see vol. ii. p. 376.
[778] Ib. vol. iv. p. 694.
[779] We have seen him already as a counsellor; see above,
p. 220. Orderic, giving a picture of him some years later
(778 B), adds that “ducem sibi coævum et quasi collectaneum
fratrem diligebat.”
[780] See Appendix M.
[781] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 194, 508, 567.
[782] Chron. Petrib. 1091. “And ut of Normandig for to þam
cynge his aðume to Scotlande and to his swustor.”
[783] Chron. Petrib. 1091. “Ðas forewarde gesworan xii. þa
betste of þes cynges healfe, and xii. of þes eorles.” In
Florence the “betste” become “barones.”
[784] “Þeah hit syððan litle hwile stode.”
[785] Ord. Vit. 697 A. “Aggregatis Britonibus et Normannis,
Constantiam et Abrincas aliaque oppida munivit, et ad
resistendum totis nisibus insurrexit.”
[786] Ib. 697 B. “Britones, qui sibi solummodo adminiculum
contulerant.”
[787] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 209.
[788] Ord. Vit. 697 A. “Hugo Cestrensis comes aliique
fautores, ejus paupertatem perpendentes, et amplas opes
terribilemque potentiam Guillelmi regis metuentes, egregium
clitonem in bellico angore deseruerunt, et municipia sua
regi tradiderunt.” Wace tells quite another tale, more
favourable to Earl Hugh, but much less likely. See
Appendix N.
[789] Ann. S. Mich. 1023. “Hoc anno inchoatum est novum
monasterium a Richardo secundo comite et Hildeberto abbate,
qui abbas ipso anno obiit.” This is Hildebert the Second,
appointed in 1017.
[790] Ib. 1100. “Hoc anno pars non modica ecclesiæ montis
sancti Michaelis corruit … in cujus ruina portio quædam
dormitorii monachorum destructa atque eversa est.” Ib. 1112.
“Hoc anno combusta est hæc ecclesia sancti Michaelis igne
fulmineo, cum omnibus officinis monachorum.”
[791] Ann. S. Mich. 1085. “Huic [Rannulfo] successit
Rogerius Cadomensis, non electione monachorum, sed vi
terrenæ potestatis.”
[792] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 468.
[793] See Florence’s account in Appendix N.
[794] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 235.
[795] I take this from Wace, 14660;
“Li Munt asistrent environ,
De Genez de si à Coisnon
E la revière d’Ardenon;
N’issent del mont se par els non.
A Avrenches li reis séeit
Et a Genez li dus esteit.”
On the value of Wace’s general story, see Appendix N; but we
may trust the topography of the Jerseyman.
[796] See Florence’s account in Appendix N. So Will. Malms.
iv. 308; “Crebris excursibus obsidentem militiam germanorum
contristavit.” Wace (14652) says,
“Sovent coreit par Costentin,
E tensout tot Avrencin;
Li vilains prist, si fist raendre,
Ne leissout rien k’il péust prendra.”
[797] Wace, 14666;
“Mult véissiez joster sovent,
E tornéier espessement
Entre li Munt et Ardenon
E la rivière de Coisnon.
Chescun jor al flo retraiant
Vint chevaliers jostes menant.”
[798] On the two versions of this story, if they are meant
to be the same story, in William of Malmesbury and in Wace,
see Appendix N.
[799] Will. Malms. iv. 309. “Solus in multos irruit,
alacritate virtutis impatiens, simulque confidens nullum
sibi ausurum obsistere.”
[800] Ib. “Fides loricæ obstitit ne læderetur.”
[801] Ib. “Tolle, nebulo, Rex Angliæ sum.”
[802] 1 Kings xii. 31.
[803] Will. Malms. iv. 309. “Tremuit, nota voce jacentis,
vulgus militum, statimque reverenter de terra levato equum
alterum adducunt.”
[804] Ib. “Non expectato ascensorio, sonipedem insiliens,
omnesque circumstantes vivido perstringens oculo, Quis,
inquit, me dejecit?”
[805] See Appendix G. We have had this favourite oath
already.
[806] Will. Malms. u. s. “Meus amodo eris, et meo albo
insertus laudabilis militiæ præmia reportabis.” Of William’s
“album” or muster-roll we hear elsewhere. Wace, 14492;
“N’oïst de chevalier parler
Ke de proesce oïst loer,
Ki en son brief escrit ne fust,
E ki par an del suen n’éust.”
[807] See Roger of Howden, iv. 83. The King is wounded
before Chaluz; the castle is taken, “quo capto, præcepit rex
omnes suspendi, excepto illo solo qui eum vulneraverat,
quem, ut fas est credere, turpissima morte damnaret, si
convaluisset.”
[808] See N. C. vol. v. p. 73. Where did William of
Malmesbury find his story of Alexander, “qui Persam militem
se a tergo ferire conatum, sed pro perfidia ensis spe sua
frustratum, incolumem pro admiratione fortitudinis
conservavit”? The story in Arrian, i. 15, is quite
different.
[809] The stock of meat comes from Wace, 14700;
“De viande aveient plenté
Maiz de bevre aveient grant chierté;
Asez aveient a mengier,
Maiz molt trovoent li vin chier.”
The lack of water is secondary in his version. See
Appendix N.
[810] Will. Malms. iv. 310. “Impium esse ut eum aqua
arceant, quæ esset communis mortalibus; aliter, si velit,
virtutem experiatur; nec pugnet violentia elementorum sed
virtute militum.” If this represents a real message from
Henry, it must surely have been meant as an _argumentum ad
hominem_ for Robert.
[811] Ib. “Genuina mentis mollitie flexus, suos _qua
prætendebant_ laxius habere se jussit.” This must mean the
quarters of Robert at Genetz, as distinguished from those of
William.
[812] See Appendix N.
[813] Will. Malms. iv. 310. “Belle scis actitare guerram,
qui hostibus præbes aquæ copiam; et quomodo eos domabimus si
eis in pastu et in potu indulserimus?”
[814] Ib. “Ille renidens illud come et merito famosum verbum
emisit, Papæ, dimitterem fratrem nostrum mori siti? et quem
alium habebimus si eum amiserimus?” For the other version,
see Appendix N. M. le Hardy (80), who is a knight of the
order of Pius the Ninth, translates “Papæ,” “par le Pape.”
[815] See Appendix N.
[816] Ord. Vit. 697 A. “Fere xv. diebus cum suis aquæ
penuria maxime coarcuerunt. Porro callidus juvenis, dum sic
a fratribus suis coarctaretur, et a cognatis atque amicis et
confœderatis affinibus undique destitueretur, et multimoda
pene omnium quibus homines indigent inedia angeretur,” &c.
The siege began “in medio quadragesimæ,” and lasted fifteen
days. Florence is therefore wrong in saying “per totam
quadragesimam montem obsederunt.”
[817] Flor. Wig. 1091. “Frequenter cum eo prœlium
commiserunt, et homines et equos nonnullos perdiderunt. At
rex, cum obsidionis diutinæ pertæsus fuisset, impacatus
recessit.”
[818] Ord. Vit. 697 A. “Liberum sibi sociisque suis exitum
de monte ab obsidentibus poposcit. Illi admodum gavisi sunt,
ipsumque cum omni apparatu suo egredi _honorifice_
permiserunt.” On the honours of war, see above, p. 86. See
Appendix N.
[819] Ib. “Rex in Neustria usque ad Augustum permansit, et
dissidentes qui eidem adquiescere voluerunt regali
auctoritate pacavit.” So in 693 C he mentions the lands of
Eu, Gournay, and Conches, and adds, “ubi præfatus rex a
Januario usque ad kal. Augusti regali more cum suis
habitavit.” I assume Eu as his actual head-quarters, as it
was before and after.
[820] Ib. D. See the next chapter.
[821] Ord. Vit. 697 B. “Sic regia proles in exsilio didicit
pauperiem perpeti, ut futurus rex optime sciret miseris et
indigentibus compati, eorumque dejectioni vel indigentiæ
regali potentia seu dapsilitate suffragari, et ritus
infirmorum expertus eis pie misereri.”
[822] See N. C. vol. v. pp. 156, 843.
[823] See Appendix O.
[824] Will. Malms. iv. 310. “In regnum se cum ambobus
fratribus recepit.” I should hardly have accepted this
evidence, if it had not been confirmed by the signatures to
a charter of which I shall presently speak. See below,
p. 305.
[825] Immediately after the words quoted in p. 282, follows
the entry about Malcolm; “Onmang þam þe se cyng W. ut of
Englelande wæs ferde se cyng Melcolm of Scotlande hider into
Englum, and his mycelne dæl ofer hergode.”
[826] Ord. Vit. 701 A. “In illo tempore Melcoma rex Scotorum
contra regem Anglorum rebellavit, debitumque servitium ei
denegavit.” See Appendix P.
[827] Flor. Wig. 1091. “Mense Maio rex Scottorum Malcolmus
cum magno exercitu Northymbriam invasit; si proventus
successisset, ulterius processurus, et vim Angliæ incolis
illaturus. Noluit Deus: ideo ab incepto est impeditus:
attamen antequam rediisset, ejus exercitus de Northymbria
secum non modicam prædam abduxit.”
[828] Sim. Dun. 1093 (where he reckons up Malcolm’s
invasions); “Quarto, regnante Willelmo juniore, cum suis
copiis infinitis usque Ceastram, non longe a Dunelmo sitam,
pervenit, animo intendens ulterius progredi.”
[829] Chron. Petrib. 1091. “Oð þæt þa gode men þe þis land
bewiston, him fyrde ongean sændon and hine gecyrdon.” Did
they not go in their own persons?
[830] See above, p. 282. The words of Orderic (701 A) are
odd; “Guillelmus rex … cum Roberto fratre suo pacem fecerat,
ipsumque contra infidos proditores qui contra regem
conspiraverant secum duxerat.” This surely cannot mean the
Scots; it must mean the rebels of three years before. Robert
cannot have been brought to act in any way against them; yet
the words of Orderic must have a confused reference to some
real object of his coming.
[831] Will. Malms. iv. 311. “Satagente Roberto comite, qui
familiarem jamdudum apud Scottum locaverat gratiam, inter
Malcolmum et Willelmum concordia inita.” See Appendix P.
[832] See Appendix BB.
[833] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 513.
[834] Sim. Dun. Hist. Eccl. Dun. iv. 8. “Priori ad se
venienti humiliter assurgens, benigne illum suscepit, et ita
per omnia sub se, quemadmodum sub episcopo, curam ecclesiæ
cum omni libertate agere præcepit.”
[835] Ib. “Licet in alia monasteria et ecclesias ferocius
ageret, ipsis tamen non solum nihil auferebat, sed etiam de
suo dabat, et ab injuriis malignorum sicut pater
defendebat.”
[836] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 674.
[837] Sim. Dun. u. s. “Hoc tempore refectorium, quale hodie
cernitur, monachi ædificaverunt.”
[838] Ib. “Tertio anno expulsionis episcopi, cum homines
regis quoddam in Normannia castellum tenentes obsiderentur,
et jamjamque capiendi essent, eos episcopus a periculo
liberavit, et consilio suo ut obsidio solveretur effecit.”
[839] Sim. Dun. Hist. Eccl. Dun. iv. 8. “Unde rex placatus,
universa quæ in Anglia prius habuerat, ei restituit.” More
formally in the Gesta Regum, 1091; “Veniens Dunelmum,
episcopum Willelmum restituit in sedem suam, ipso post annos
tres die quo eam reliquit, scilicet tertio idus Septembris.”
The time of three years is not quite exact; see above,
p. 94.
[840] Hist. Eccl. Dun. u. s. “Ille nequaquam vacuus rediit,
sed non pauca ex auro et argento sacra altaris vasa et
diversa ornamenta, sed et libros plurimos ad ecclesiam
præmittere curavit.”
[841] See above, p. 295, and below, p. 305.
[842] Chron. Petrib. 1091. “Se cyng W…. sona fyrde hét ut
abeodan ægðer scipfyrde and landfyrde; and seo scipferde, ær
he to Scotlande cuman mihte, ælmæst earmlice forfór, feowan
dagon toforan S[~c]e Michæles mæssan.” Florence calls the
host “classis non modica et equestris exercitus,” and adds
that “multi de equestri exercitu ejus fame et frigore
perierunt.”
[843] Chron. Petrib. 1091. “Ac þa þa, se cyng Melcolm
gehyrde þæt hine man mid fyrde secean wolde, he for mid his
fyrde ut of Scotlande into Loðene on Englaland, and þær
abad.” Florence, followed by Simeon, oddly enough translates
this; “Rex Malcolmus cum exercitu in provincia Loidis
occurrit.” Hence some modern writers have carried Malcolm as
far south as _Leeds_, I presume only to Leeds in Yorkshire.
Orderic (701 A), though, as we shall see, he somewhat
misconceives the story, marks the geography very well;
“Exercitum totius Angliæ conglobavit, ut usque ad magnum
flumen, quod Scotte Watra dicitur, perduxit.” The “Scots’
Water” is of course the Firth of Forth. So Turgot in the
Life of Margaret (Surtees Simeon, p. 247) speaks of “utraque
litora maris quod Lodoneium dividit et Scotiam.” See
Appendix P.
[844] Chron. Petrib. ib. “Ða ða se cyng William mid his
fyrde genealehte þa ferdon betwux Rodbeard eorl and Eadgar
æþeling, and þæra cinga sehte swa gemacedon.” So Florence;
“Quod videns comes Rotbertus, clitonem Eadgarum, quem rex de
Normannia expulerat, et tunc cum rege Scottorum degebat, ad
se accersivit: cujus auxilio fretus, pacem inter reges
fecit.” On the details in Orderic, see Appendix P.
[845] “Ex consultu sapientum,” says Orderic. These ancient
formulæ cleave to us wherever we go, even in the camp. On
the action of the military Witan, see above, p. 216.
[846] See above, p. 25.
[847] See Appendix P.
[848] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 175.
[849] Ib. vol. ii. p. 272.
[850] It is specially marked that the homage now done was
the renewal of the old homage. So the Chronicle, 1091; “Se
cyng Melcolm to uran cynge com, and his man wearð to ealle
swilcre gehyrsumnisse swa he ǽr his fæder dyde, and þæt mid
aðe gefestnode.” So Florence; “Ea conditione, ut Willelmo,
sicut patri suo obedivit, Malcolmus obediret.”
[851] The Chronicle says only; “Se cyng William him behét on
lande and on ealle þinge þæs þe he under his fæder ǽr
hæfde.” Florence is fuller; “Et Malcolmo xii. villas, quas
in Anglia sub patre illius habuerat, Willelmus redderet, et
xii. marcas auri singulis annis daret.” See Appendix P.
[852] Chron. Petrib. u. s. “On þisum sehte wearð eac Eadgar
eþeling wið þone cyng gesæhtlad, and þa cyngas þa mid
mycclum sehte tohwurfon, ac þæt litle hwile stod.” Florence
is to the same effect. See Appendix P.
[853] Flor. Wig. 1091. “Post hæc rex de Northymbria per
Merciam in West-Saxoniam rediit.”
[854] See Appendix P.
[855] See N. C. vol. v. p. 121. The Chronicle in 1093 brings
him in as “Dunecan … se on þæs cynges hyrede W. wæs, swa swa
his fæder hine ures cynges fæder ær to gisle geseald hæfde.”
[856] See above, p. 14.
[857] Could there be any reference to the non-restoration of
Odo? See above, p. 283.
[858] See above, p. 143.
[859] Chron. Petrib. 1091. “And se eorl Rodbeard her oð
X[~p]es mæsse forneah mid þam cynge wunode, and litel soðes
þær onmang of heora forewarde onfand; and twam dagon ær þære
tide on Wiht scipode and into Normandig fór, and Eadgar
æþeling mid him.” So Florence; “Rex … secum fere usque ad
nativitatem Domini comitem retinuit, sed conventionem inter
eos factam persolvere noluit. Quod comes graviter ferens,
xᵒ. kal. Januarii die cum clitone Eadgaro Normanniam
repetiit.”
[860] Florence (1091) tells this tale; “Magnus fumus cum
nimio fœtore subsecutus, totam ecclesiam replevit, et tamdiu
duravit, quoad loci illius monachi cum aqua benedicta et
incensu et reliquiis sanctorum, officinas monasterii psalmos
decantando circumirent.” William of Malmesbury (iv. 323)
gives more details, and is better certified as to the cause;
“Secutus est odor teterrimus, hominum importabilis naribus.
Tandem monachi, felici ausu irrumpentes, benedictæ aquæ
aspergine _præstigias_ inimici effugarunt.” A modern
diplomatist might have said that the _prestige_ of the evil
one was lowered.
[861] Florence again tells the tale; but William of
Malmesbury (iv. 324) again is far more emphatic, and seems
to look on the winds as moral agents; “Quid illud omnibus
incognitum sæculis? Discordia ventorum inter se
dissidentium, ab Euro-austro veniens decimo sexto kal.
Novembris Londoniæ plusquam secentas domos effregit…. Majus
quoque scelus furor ventorum ausus, tectum ecclesiæ sanctæ
Mariæ quæ ‘ad Arcus’ dicitur pariter sublevavit.” But
Florence is simply setting down events under their years,
while William is making a collection of “casualties,” to
illustrate the position that “plura sub eo [Willelmo Rufo]
subita et tristia acciderunt,” and notes this year as
specially marked by “tumultus fulgurum, motus turbinum.”
[862] Flor. Wig. 1092. “Civitas Lundonia maxima ex parte
incendio conflagravit.”
[863] See N. C. vol. i. p. 321.
[864] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 691.
[865] Flor. Wig. 1092. “Osmundus Searesbyriensis episcopus,
ecclesiam quam Searesbyriæ in castello construxerat, cum
adjutorio episcoporum Walcelini Wintoniensis et Johannis
Bathoniensis, nonis Aprilis feria ii. dedicavit.” Cf. Will.
Malms. Gest. Pont. 183. The foundation charter (Mon. Ang.
vi. 1299) was signed in 1091, “Willelmo rege monarchiam
totius Angliæ strenue gubernante anno quarto regni ejus,
apud Hastinges”――most likely on his return from Normandy in
August. The signatures come in a strange order. Between the
earls and the Archbishop of York come “Signum Wlnoti. Signum
Croc venatoris.” Wulfnoth here turns up in the same strange
way in which he so often does. Croc the huntsman we have
heard of already. See above, p. 102. We get also the
signatures of Howel Bishop of Le Mans, and of Robert the
_dispenser_, who invented the surname Flambard (see below,
p. 331). On the signature of Herbert Losinga, see
Appendix X.
[866] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 606.
[867] Will. Malms. iv. 325. “Eadem violentia fulminis apud
Salesbiriam tectum turris ecclesiæ omnino disjecit,
multamque maceriam labefactavit, quinta sane die postquam
eam dedicaverat Osmundus, præclaræ memoriæ episcopus.”
[868] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 419, and Giraldus, Vita Rem. c.
3, 4, 5 (vol. vii. p. 17 et seqq. Dimock). Giraldus is, I
believe, the only writer who makes a saint of Remigius. He
enlarges on the effects of Remigius’ preaching, and
consequently on the wickedness of those to whom he had to
preach.
[869] Giraldus, Vit. Rem. ch. v. “Prolem propriam quam
genuerat, nepotes etiam et neptes, alienigenis in servitutem
detestanda avaritia venalem ex consuetudine prostituebant.”
Cf. N. C. vol. iv. p. 381, and the stories in Will. Malms.
ii. 200, about Godwine’s supposed first wife. See N. C. vol.
i. p. 737.
[870] I mentioned in N. C. vol. iv. p. 212, that Lincoln
minster grew out of an earlier church of Saint Mary. The
history of John of Schalby printed by Mr. Dimock shows that
this elder parish church went on within the minster. This is
a very important case of a double church. See Giraldus, vii.
xxx. 194, 209.
[871] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 369.
[872] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 355.
[873] Giraldus, Vit. Rem. ch. iv. “Operam erga regem et
archiepiscopum, excambium Eboracensi pro Lindeseia donantes,
prudenter effectui, Deo cooperante mancipavit. Et sic
Lindeseiam terramque totam inter Widhemam scilicet Lincolniæ
fluvium et Humbriam diocesi suæ provinciæque Cantuariensi
viriliter adjecit.” This is Giraldus’ improvement on the
local record copied by John of Schalby (Giraldus, vii. 194);
“Datis per regem prædictum Eboracensi archiepiscopo in
excambium possessionibus, totam Lyndesyam suæ diocesi et
provinciæ Cantuariensi conjunxit.” It must be remembered
that a bishopric of Lindesey had once been set up by the
Northumbrian Ecgfrith. See Bæda, iv. 12.
[874] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 90, 354. This seems to be
delicately referred to in the record copied by John of
Schalby (Giraldus, vii. 193); “Remigius natione Normannus ac
monachus Fiscanensis, qui _ob certam causam_ venerat cum
eodem [Willielmo rege] in episcopum Dorkecestrensem.”
[875] So says Florence. Remigius is eager to dedicate his
church, “quia sibi diem mortis imminere sentiebat.” Thomas
objects, “affirmans eam in sua parochia esse constructam.”
“At rex Willelmus junior, _pro pecunia quam ei Remigius
dederat_, totius fere Angliæ episcopis mandavit ut, in unum
convenientes, septennis idibus Maii ecclesiam dedicarent.”
Of course there is nothing about the bribe in Giraldus, nor
yet in William of Malmesbury, Gest. Pont. 313, where the
King’s order to the bishops is issued “magnanimi
viri”――Remigius has got the King’s own epithet――“hortatu.”
Matthew Paris, in the Historia Anglorum, i. 42, credits the
Red King with an unlooked-for degree of zeal; “Postea rex
Willelmus, cujus consilio et auxilio ecclesia illa fuit a
primo loco suo remota, et quam _pro anima patris sui_ [this
at least is characteristic] multis ditaverat possessionibus,
procuravit ut ea magnifice consummaretur.”
[876] Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 313. “Solus Rotbertus
Herefordensis venire abnuerat, et certa inspectione siderum
dedicationem tempore Remigii non processuram viderat, nec
tacuerat.”
[877] On the exact date, see Mr. Dimock’s note to Giraldus,
vii. 20. Ascension Day came on the feast of Saint John _ante
Portam Latinam_.
[878] “Ecclesiæ per hoc remansit dedicatio.” William of
Malmesbury (u. s.) says, “Rem dilatam successor ejus non
graviter explevit, utpote qui in labores alterius delicatus
intrasset.” There seems to be no mention of this in the
Lincoln writers.
[879] Giraldus (vii. 22-31) has fifteen chapters, very short
ones certainly, of the miracles of Remigius. One takes most
to the healings of the crippled women Leofgifu and Ælfgifu;
Remigius “huic præcipue languori se propitium dedit.” A
Norman, Richard by name, who tried to pull a hair from the
beard of the saint’s uncorrupted body (cf. N. C. vol. iii.
p. 32), became crippled himself. But a certain deaf and dumb
Jewess, who came to blaspheme――doubtless mentally――was
smitten to the earth and suddenly endowed with hearing and
speech, beginning by uttering the name of Remigius in
French. “Ex quo patet, quia non propter merita semper aut
devotionem, sed ut manifestetur gloria Dei, miracula fiunt.”
She was baptized by Bishop Alexander, and was carried about
by him hither and thither to declare the praises of his
predecessor.
[880] See Appendix R.
[881] See Bæda, Hist. Eccl. iv. 29. But we have a more
distinct notice in the Life of Saint Cuthberht, c. 27 (ii.
101 Stevenson), of “Lugubalia civitas, quæ a populis
Anglorum corrupte Luel vocatur.” In Ecgfrith’s day there
might be seen “mœnia civitatis, fonsque in ea miro quondam
Romanorum opere extractus.”
[882] See N. C. vol. i. pp. 58, 576.
[883] Ib. vol. i. pp. 63, 580.
[884] See N. C. vol. i. p. 647.
[885] Flor. Wig. 1092. “Hæc civitas, ut illis in partibus
aliæ nonnullæ, a Danis paganis ante cc. annos diruta, et
usque ad id tempus mansit deserta.”
[886] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 134.
[887] Chron. Petrib. 1092. “On þisum geare se cyng W. mid
mycelre fyrde ferde horð to Cardeol, and þa burh
geæðstaþelede, and þone castel arerde, and Dolfin út adraf,
þe æror þær þæs landes weold, and þone castel mid his mannum
gesette.” Florence seems to connect this with the unwrought
ceremony at Lincoln; “His actis, rex in Northymbriam
profectus, civitatem quæ Brytannice Cairleu, Latine
Lugubalia vocatur, restauravit et in ea castellum
ædificavit.” Orderic brings together the old and the new
when he speaks (917 B) in David’s time of “Carduilum
validissimum oppidum, quod Julius Cæsar, ut dicunt,
condidit.”
[888] The Chronicler goes on; “And syððan hider suð gewænde,
and mycele mænige cyrlisces folces mid wifan and mid orfe
þyder sænde þær to wunigenne þæt land to tilianne.” So Henry
of Huntingdon, vii. 2; “Rex reædificavit civitatem Carleol,
et ex australibus Angliæ partibus illuc habitatores
transmisit.” Florence leaves out both the colonization and
the driving out of Dolfin.
[889] See Appendix R.
[890] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 858.
[891] See Appendix R.
[892] On the bishopric, see N. C. vol. v. p. 230.
[893] On Henry’s election at Domfront, see Appendix P.
[894] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 287; vol. iii. p. 165.
[895] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 198.
[896] See Appendix P.
[897] See Appendix P.
[898] See Appendix P.
[899] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 253.
[900] See above, p. 213.
[901] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 228.
[902] Will. Gem. viii. 4. “Quia in hoc negotio et in
aliisque plerisque suis necessitatibus Hugo comes Cestrensis
ei fidelis exstiterat, concessit ei ex integro castellum
quod sancti Jacobi appellatum est, in quo idem comes tunc
temporis nihil aliud habebat, præter custodiam munitionis
istius oppidi.” He goes on to describe the building of the
castle, in words partly borrowed from William of Poitiers,
and the grant to Richard of Avranches. On Richard, see N. C.
vol. ii. pp. 209, 296.
[903] During this chapter, the authorities for the life of
Anselm become of primary importance. We have the invaluable
help of the two works of Anselm’s friend and faithful
companion, the English monk Eadmer, afterwards Bishop-elect
of Saint Andrews. Both Orderic and William of Malmesbury
speak of Eadmer with the deepest reverence, and cut short
their own accounts of Anselm, referring to his. He first
wrote the _Historia Novorum_, and then the _Vita Anselmi_ as
a kind of supplement, to bring in certain points more purely
personal to his hero. The subject of the _Historia Novorum_
we might call “Anselm and his Times.” The subject of the
_Vita_ is naturally Anselm himself. Eadmer’s history is of
course most minute and most trustworthy for all that
concerns Anselm; other matters he cuts short. In most cases
one can see his reasons; but it is not easy to see why he
should have left out the mission of Geronto recorded by Hugh
of Flavigny (see Appendix AA). Along with the works of
Eadmer, we have also a precious store in the Letters of
Anselm himself (see Appendix Y), which, besides the picture
which they give of the man, throw a flood of light on the
history. All these materials, with the other writings of
Anselm, will be found in two volumes of Migne’s Patrologia,
158 and 159. I have used this edition for the Letters and
for the Life; the _Historia Novorum_ I have gone on quoting
in the edition of Selden.
I need hardly say that Anselm’s English career, with which
alone I am concerned, is only one part of his many-sided
character. I have kept mainly to the history of Anselm in
England; I have cut short both his early life and even the
time of his first banishment. With his theology and
philosophy I have not ventured to meddle at all. Anselm has
had no lack of biographers from the more general point of
view; Hasse (Anselm von Canterbury, Leipzig, 1852), Charles
de Rémusat (Saint Anselme de Cantorbéry, Paris, 1853),
Charma (Saint-Anselme, Paris, 1853), Croset-Mouchet (S.
Anselme d’Aoste, Archevêque de Cantorbéry, Paris, 1859). I
have made some use of all these; but the value even of Hasse
and De Rémusat for my strictly English purpose is not great.
M. Croset-Mouchet writes with a pleasant breeze of local
feeling from the Prætorian Augusta, but he is utterly at sea
as to everything in our island.
In our own tongue the life of Anselm has been treated by a
living and a dead friend of my own, holding the same rank in
the English Church. Dean Hook, I must say with regret,
utterly failed to do justice to Anselm. This is the more
striking, as he did thorough justice to Thomas. From Dr.
Hook’s point of view it needed an effort to do justice to
either, a smaller effort in the case of Anselm, a greater in
the case of Thomas. As sometimes happens, he made the
greater effort, but not the smaller. I am however able to
say that he came to know Anselm better before he died. Dean
Church, on the other hand, has given us an almost perfect
example of a short sketch of such a subject. The accuracy of
the tale is as remarkable as the beauty of the telling. It
lacks only the light which is thrown on the story of Anselm
by the earlier story of William of Saint-Calais. It is most
important to remember that Anselm was not the first to
appeal to the Pope.
[904] See N. C. vol. v. p. 131.
[905] Ib. p. 135.
[906] Ib. vol. iv. p. 521, and see Appendix S.
[907] See the extract from Orderic (678 C) in Appendix S.
[908] See Appendix S.
[909] So Liebermann truly remarks (Einleitung in den
Dialogus de Scaccario, 40). He adds; “Diese pflegten die
Priesterweihe möglichst spät zu empfangen; desto eifriger
erjagten sie fette Pfründen.”
[910] Florence (1100) notices emphatically that the doings
of Flambard were done “contra jus ecclesiasticum, et sui
gradus ordinem, presbyter enim erat.” So he is marked by
Anselm (Epp. iv. 2) as “sacerdos.”
[911] See Appendix S. The story about Flambard’s mother,
which Sir Francis Palgrave suggests may have come from a
ballad, is told by Orderic in another place (787 A); “Mater,
quæ sortilega erat et cum dæmone crebro locuta, ex cujus
nefaria familiaritate unum oculum amiserat,” One thinks of a
later dabbler in mischief; “Our minnie’s sair mis-set, after
her ordinar, sir――she’ll hae had some quarrel wi’ her auld
gudeman――that’s Satan, ye ken, sirs.” William of Malmesbury
(Gesta Regum, iv. 314) calls him “fomes cupiditatum,
Ranulfus clericus, ex infimo genere hominum lingua et
calliditate provectus ad summum.” In the Gesta Pontificum,
274, he is more guarded, and says only “ex quo ambiguum
genere.”
[912] See Appendix S.
[913] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 522.
[914] See Stubbs, Const. Hist. i. 348.
[915] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 687.
[916] Will. Malms. iv. 314. “Is, si quando edictum regium
processisset ut nominatum tributum Anglia penderet, duplum
adjiciebat.”
[917] Ib. “Subinde, cachinnantibus quibusdam ac dicentibus,
solum esse hominem qui sciret sic agitare ingenium nec
aliorum curaret odium dummodo complacaret dominum.” This is
one of the passages where William of Malmesbury thought it
wise to soften what he first wrote. For “cachinnantibus
quibusdam ac dicentibus” some manuscripts read “cachinnante
rege ac dicente.”
[918] See Appendix U.
[919] See N. C. vol. v. p. 430.
[920] Will. Malms. iv. 314. “Invictus causidicus, et tam
verbis tam rebus immodicus.” One thinks of Lanfranc’s
successes in the law-courts of Pavia (see N. C. vol. ii. p.
226); but knowledge of the Imperial law was a matter of
professional learning; with the simpler law of England age
and experience were enough.
[921] See Stubbs, Const. Hist. i. 384, and Appendix T.
[922] Chron. Petrib. 1099. “Rannulfe his capellane … þe æror
ealle his gemot ofer eall Engleland draf and bewiste.”
[923] See N. C. vol. v. p. 445.
[924] Will. Malms. iv. 314. “Juxta in supplices ut in
rebelles furens.”
[925] See Appendix T.
[926] See the extract from Orderic, 786 C, in Appendix T.
[927] See above, p. 198.
[928] See N. C. vol. v. p. 398.
[929] As in the case of the general redemption of lands (see
N. C. vol. iv. p. 25) and the great confiscation and
distribution in the midwinter Gemót of 1067 (ib. p. 127).
[930] Chron. Petrib. 1100. “Forðan þe he ælces mannes
gehadodes and læwedes yrfenuma beon wolde.”
[931] William of Malmesbury (v. 393) seems to sum up the
reforms of Henry in the words “injustitias a fratre et
Rannulfo institutas prohibuit.” “Justitiæ” is a technical
phrase (see N. C. vol. iv. pp. 559, 560). “Injustitiæ,” as
here used, is something like our “unlaw” and “ungeld.”
[932] Revised Statutes, i. 725. By some chance this statute
is printed in this collection, which commonly leaves out the
statutes which are of most historical importance.
[933] I borrow this phrase from the story of Count William
of Evreux in Orderic, 814 C (see Appendix K), though he was
not to be given in quite the same sense.
[934] See N. C. vol. v. pp. 373-381.
[935] See the charter of Henry, Select Charters, 97; “Et
omnes malas consuetudines quibus regnum Angliae injuste
opprimebatur inde aufero, quas malas consuetudines ex parte
hic pono.” He then goes through the grievances in order,
relief, marriage, wardship, and the rest.
[936] I borrow our ancient word _lænland_, which survives in
the German _lehn_.
[937] See N. C. vol. v. pp. 379, 867.
[938] Select Charters, 97. “Si quis baronum, comitum meorum
sive aliorum qui de me tenent, mortuus fuerit, hæres suus
non _redimet_ terram suam sicut faciebat tempore fratris
mei, sed justa et legitima relevatione _relevabit_ eam.”
[939] Ib. “Et si quis baronum vel hominum meorum
infirmabitur, sicut ipse dabit vel dare disponet pecuniam
suam, ita datam esse concedo. Quod si ipse præventus armis
vel infirmitate, pecuniam suam non dederit vel dare
disposuerit, uxor sua sive liberi aut parentes, et legitimi
homines ejus, eam pro anima ejus dividant, sicut eis melius
visum fuerit.”
[940] Select Charters, 97. “Et terræ et liberorum custos
erit sive uxor sive alius propinquorum qui justius esse
debeat.”
[941] See Tractatus de Legibus, vii. 9. 10; and Phillips,
Englische Reichs- und Rechtsgeschichte, ii. 204.
[942] See N. C. vol. v. p. 374.
[943] This was pointed out by Hallam, Middle Ages, i. 128,
ed. 1846.
[944] See N. C. vol. v. p. 381.
[945] See above, p. 81.
[946] See above, p. 133.
[947] Select Charters, 97. “Similiter et homines baronum
meorum justa et legitima relevatione relevabunt terras suas
de dominis suis…. Et præcipio quod barones mei similiter se
contineant erga filios et filias vel uxores hominum suorum.”
[948] See above, p. 153.
[949] Select Charters, 97. “Omnia placita et omnia debita
quæ fratri meo debebantur condono, exceptis rectis firmis
meis et exceptis illis quæ pacta erant pro aliorum
hæreditatibus vel pro eis rebus quæ justius aliis
contingebant.”
[950] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 429, 821. Eadmer says
emphatically in the Preface to the Historia Novorum; “Ex eo
quippe quo Willelmus Normanniæ comes terram illam [Angliam]
debellando sibi subegit, nemo in ea episcopus vel abbas ante
Anselmum factus est qui non primo fuerit homo regis, ac de
manu illius episcopatus vel abbatiæ investituram per
dationem virgæ pastoralis suscepit.” He excepts the bishops
of Rochester, who received investiture from the Archbishop
of Canterbury, their lord as well as their metropolitan.
A distinct witness to the antiquity of the royal rights in
England is borne by William of Malmesbury (v. 417), where he
is speaking of the controversy in Henry the First’s time.
The King refused to yield to the new claims of the Pope,
“non elationis ambitu, sed procerum et maxime comitis de
Mellento instinctu, qui, in hoc negotio magis _antiqua
consuetudine_ quam recti tenore rationem reverberans
allegabat multum regiæ majestati diminui, si _omittens morem
antecessorum_, non investiret electum per baculum et
annulum.”
Another remarkable witness is given by one of the
continuators of Sigebert (Sigeberti Auctarium Ursicampinum,
Pertz, vi. 471). He records the death of Lanfranc under a
wrong year, 1097, and adds; “Anselmus abbas Beccensis, pro
sua sanctitate et doctrina non solum in Normannia, sed etiam
in Anglia jam celeberrimus, successit in præsulatu. Qui
licet a rege Willelmo et principibus terre totiusque
ecclesiæ conventu susceptus honorifice fuisset, multas tamen
molestias et tribulationes postmodum sub ipso rege passus
est pro statu ecclesiæ corrigendo. Nam reges Angliæ hanc
injustam legem _jam diu tenuerant_, ut electos ecclesiæ
præsules ipsi per virgam pastoralem ecclesiis investirent.”
This is of course written by the lights of Henry the First’s
reign, as Anselm never objected to the royal investiture in
the time of Rufus.
[951] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 588.
[952] Ib. p. 590.
[953] See N. C. vol. i. pp. 93, 601.
[954] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 372.
[955] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 37.
[956] See Appendix W.
[957] This comes in the great passage under 1100; “Godes
cyrcean he nyðerade, and þa bisceoprices and abbotrices þe
þa ealdras on his dagan feollan, ealle he hi oððe wið feo
gesealde, oððe on his agenre hand heold and to gafle
gesette.”
[958] See the passage quoted from Eadmer in Appendix W.
[959] See Appendix W.
[960] See N. C. vol. i. pp. 505, 527; vol. ii. p. 69.
[961] See Stubbs, Const. Hist. i. 299. We have come across a
good many cases which illustrate the difficulty of getting
back church lands, even when they had been granted away only
for a season. See N. C. vol. ii. p. 565; vol. iv. p. 803.
[962] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 617.
[963] See Appendix W.
[964] See above, p. 298.
[965] Ann. Wint. 1097. “Radulfus xvi. ecclesias carentes
pastoribus sub tutela sua habebat, episcopatus, et abbatias,
quas ad extremam paupertatem perduxit. Ecclesiæ quibus
pastores præerant, dabant singulis annis regi ccc. vel cccc.
marcas, aliæ plus, aliæ vero minus. In tanta erant tam
ordinati miseria quam laici, quod tædebat eos vitæ eorum.”
The annalist had said a little earlier (1092), in nearly the
same words, “Prædictus Radulphus, vir quo in malo nemo
subtilior, ecclesias sibi commissas exspoliavit bonis
omnibus, et divites simul et pauperes [see p. 341] ad tantam
deduxit inopiam, ut mallent mori quam sub ejus vivere
dominatu.”
[966] See Appendix W.
[967] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 383, 385, 481.
[968] Ann. Wint. 1092. “Odo abbas abbatiam dimisit, nolens
eam de rege more sæcularium tenere.” Here is a distinct
protest against the new tenure.
[969] Ib. 1100. “Odoni reddidit [Henricus] abbatiam
Certesiæ.”
[970] Chron. Petrib. 1100.
[971] Take two cases at random with a great interval between
them, the vacancy of the see of Lincoln under Henry the
Second, and that of Oxford, which one might have thought
hardly worth keeping vacant, under Elizabeth. Hugh Curwin
(see Godwin, 405) died in 1568, and his successor John
Underhill was not appointed till 1589.
[972] Orderic (764 A) gives a picture of the kind of men who
became bishops under this system; “Sic utique capellani
regis et amici præsulatus Angliæ adepti sunt, et nonnulli ex
ipsis _præposituras ad opprimendos inopes_, sibique augendas
opes nihilominus tenuerunt…. Plerumque leves et indocti
eliguntur ad regimen ecclesiæ tenendum, non pro sanctitate
vitæ vel ecclesiasticorum eruditione dogmatum liberaliumve
peritia litterarum, sed nobilium pro gratia parentum et
potentum favore amicorum.”
[973] See N. C. vol. v. p. 224.
[974] Ib.
[975] See Stubbs, Const. Hist. vol. iii. pp. 318, 319. He
gives amongst the reasons for the difference; “The abbots
were not so influential as the bishops in public affairs,
nor was the post equally desirable as the reward for public
service; with a very few exceptions the abbacies were much
poorer than the bishoprics, and involved a much more steady
attention to local duties, which would prevent attendance at
court.”
[976] This story has no better authority than that of the
Hyde writer (299); still it is, to say the least, remarkable
that it should be told of William Rufus. But there is an
element of fun in the tale, and the Red King may for once
have preferred a joke to a bribe. The description of the
three monks at all events is good; “Cum coram rege astarent
pariter, et uno plura promittente, alius pluriora
promitteret, rex sagaciter cuncta perscrutans, tacentem
monachum tertium quid quæsivit, ille se nil omnino
promittere aut dare respondit, sed ad hoc tantum venisse ut
abbatem suum cum honore suscipiendo domum deduceret.”
[977] See Stephens, Memorials of Chichester, p. 47.
[978] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 666.
[979] On the chronology, see Appendix X.
[980] I have already sketched his career, N. C. vol. iv. p.
420.
[981] So says Bartholomew Cotton, in his History of the
Norwich Bishops; Hist. Angl., ed. Luard, p. 389; “Hic prius
fuit prior Fiscanni, postea abbas Ramesseye, et pater suus
Robertus abbas Wintoniæ. Hic Herbertus in pago Oxymensi
natus, Fiscanni monachus, post ejusdem loci prioratum
strenue administratum, translatus in Angliam a rege
Willelmo, qui secundus ex Normannis obtinuit imperium,
Ramesseye abbatis jure prælatus est.”
[982] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 36, 747.
[983] See Appendix X.
[984] See Appendix X.
[985] Ann. Wint. 1088. “Radulfo abbate Wintoniæ defuncto,
commisit rex abbatiam Radulfo Passeflabere capellano suo.”
[986] See Appendix X.
[987] See Appendix X.
[988] Mon. Angl. ii. 431.
[989] See Appendix X.
[990] “Latenter,” says the extract from Florence quoted in
Appendix X.
[991] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 437. So in Eadmer, Vit. Ans. ii.
3. 23. William Rufus says, “Se illum [Urbanum] pro papa non
tenere, nec suæ consuetudinis esse, ut absque sua electione
alicui liceret in regno suo papam nominare.”
[992] See N. C. vol. ii. pp. 118, 464; vol. iv. p. 354.
[993] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 376, 820.
[994] See above, p. 312.
[995] See N. C. vol. v. pp. 661, 662.
[996] In the poem on the captivity of Ælfheah in the
Chronicles, 1011, he is
“Se þe ær wæs heafod
Angelcynnes
And Cristendomes.”
[997] Cf. Stubbs, Const. Hist. i. 211 et seqq. with 245.
[998] So we read of Henry the First in Florence, 1102; “Duos
de clericis duobus episcopatibus investivit, Rogerium
videlicet cancellarium episcopatu Saresbyriensi, et Rogerium
larderarium suum pontificatu Herefordensi.”
[999] See N. C. vol. v. p. 662, and Contemporary Review,
1878, pp. 493, 496.
[1000] See below, p. 418.
[1001] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 372.
[1002] We shall come to this again. This state of feeling is
implied in Eadmer’s whole description of the time
immediately before Anselm’s appointment.
[1003] We have seen even under the reign of the Confessor
(see N. C. vol. ii. p. 69, and above, p. 348) a notion
afloat that the archbishopric of Canterbury was to be had by
bribery; but it was to be bribery carried on in some very
underhand way, not in the form of open gifts either to King
Eadward or to Earl Godwine. The appointment of Stigand (see
N. C. vol. ii. p. 347) might be said to be the reward of
temporal services; but they were services done to the whole
nation, and the reward was bestowed by the nation itself.
[1004] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 69. Cf. Appendix I.
[1005] See above, p. 352.
[1006] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 436.
[1007] Eadmer, Vit. Ans. ii. 3. 23. The King and his
courtiers, “quid dicerent non habentes, eum in regem
blasphemare uno strepitu conclamavere, quandoquidem ausus
erat in regno ejus, nisi eo concedente, quidquam vel Deo
ascribere.”
[1008] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 16. “Et adjecit, Sed per sanctum
vultum de Luca (sic enim jurare consueverat) [see Appendix
G] nec ipse hoc tempore nec alius quis archiepiscopus erit,
me excepto.”
[1009] The action of Flambard in the matter comes out most
strongly in the Winchester Annals, 1089, where a motive is
assigned for Flambard’s zeal; “Hoc anno commisit rex Radulfo
Passefiabere archiepiscopatum Cantuariæ, defuncto Lanfranco.
Ipse autem regi quicquid inde aliquo modo lucrari poterat,
ut de ejus cogitaret promotione, donavit.” But he had to
wait eight years for his reward.
[1010] I refer to the well-known outburst of William of
Malmesbury, iv. 314, some passages of which I have quoted in
Appendix G.
[1011] Will. Malms. iv. 314. “Nullus dives nisi nummularius,
nullus clericus nisi causidicus, nullus presbyter nisi (ut
verbo parum Latino utar) firmarius.”
[1012] Of the birthplace of Anselm and its buildings, some
of which must have been fresh in his childhood, I attempted
a little picture in my Historical and Architectural
Sketches. The nature of the country is brought out with all
clearness by Dean Church, Anselm, p. 8. Before him it had
stirred up the local patriotism of M. Croset-Mouchet to the
best things in his book.
[1013] I must venture to admire, though the poet has
forsaken the natural Saturnian of Nævius and Walter Map for
the foreign metre of Homer, the lines in which one of the
biographers of Saint Hugh (Metrical Life, Dimock, p. 2)
describes the country of his hero;
“Imperialis ubi Burgundia surgit in Alpes,
Et condescendit Rhodano, convallia vernant,
Duplicibus vestitur humus; sunt gramina vestis
Publica, sunt flores vestis sollennis, et uno
Illa colore nitent, sed mille coloribus illi.”
[1014] Eadmer (Vit. Ans. i. 1. 1.) carefully marks the
geography of Aosta. It is “Augusta civitas, confinis
Burgundiæ et Langobardiæ.” I have collected some passages on
this head in Historical Geography, p. 278. The French
writers De Rémusat (Saint Anselme, 21), Charma (4), and
specially M. Croset-Mouchet (55), as a neighbour, seem to
have caught the Burgundian birth of Anselm better than the
English. Yet Charma, who knows that Aosta was Burgundian,
calls Anselm an Italian, perhaps on account of the Lombard
birth of his father.
[1015] M. Croset-Mouchet (57) is very anxious to connect
Anselm’s mother with the house of the Counts of Savoy. He
gives a genealogical table at the end of his book, where the
pedigree of Ermenberga is traced up to Ardoin the Third,
Count of Turin and Marquess in Italy. He seems however to be
not very certain about the matter, and it does not greatly
affect Anselm’s career either at Bec or at Canterbury.
[1016] Pope Urban (Hist. Nov. 45) counsels Anselm to avoid
the unhealthy season at Rome, “quia urbis istius aër multis
et maxime peregrinæ regionis hominibus nimis est
insalubris.” Later in the story (Hist. Nov. 72), Ivo of
Chartres gives him a like piece of advice about Italy
generally; “Accepit ab Ivone et a multis non spernendi
consilii viris, satius fore cœptum iter in aliud tempus
differendum, quam _Italicis ardoribus_ ea se tempestate cum
suis tradere cruciandum. Nimis etenim fervor æstatis ita
ubique, sed maxime, ut ferebatur, in Italia, tunc temporis
quæque torrebat, ut incolis vix tolerabilis, peregrinis vero
gravis et importabilis.” The difference of air between Aosta
and Rome or Italy generally does not depend upon the
boundaries of kingdoms; but here Anselm is distinctly
reckoned as a “peregrinus homo” in Italy no less than Eadmer
or Ivo or Pope Urban himself.
[1017] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 441.
[1018] See above, p. 49, and N. C. vol. iv. p. 579.
[1019] Will. Malms. iv. 315. “Simul et supersedendum est in
historia, quam reverendissimi Edmeri præoccupavit facundia.”
[1020] I feel towards Dean Church almost as William of
Malmesbury felt towards Eadmer. But he of course looks at
Anselm from a point of view somewhat different from mine.
And he had not been led to notice that earlier action of
William of Saint-Calais which from my point of view is
all-important for the story of Anselm.
[1021] This beautiful story is told by Eadmer at the very
beginning of the Life, i. 1. 2.
[1022] Eadmer, Vit. Ans. i. 1. 3. “Ille in suo proposito
perstans oravit Deum, quatenus infirmari mereretur, ut vel
sic ad monachicum quem desiderabat ordinem susciperetur.”
[1023] Will. Malms. Vita Wlst. 245. See N. C. vol. ii. p.
470. The confession of Anselm in this matter comes out in
his sixteenth Meditation, p. 793 of Migne’s edition. The
passage seems to imply more serious offences than would have
been guessed from the more general words of Eadmer, i. 1. 4.
The meditation is addressed to a sister. If this means his
own sister Richeza or Richera, it must have been before her
marriage with Burgundius. See his Epistles, iii. 43.
[1024] See William Fitz-Stephen, iii. 21, Robertson, and the
remarkable story in William of Canterbury, i. 5, Robertson.
[1025] Vit. Ans. i. 1. 45. See N. C. vol. ii. p. 228.
[1026] Vit. Ans. i. 1. 6. He is made to say; “Ecce, inquit,
monachus fiam. Sed ubi? Si Cluniaci vel Becci, totum tempus
quod in discendis litteris posui, perdidi. Nam et Cluniaci
districtio ordinis, et Becci supereminens prudentia
Lanfranci, qui illic monachus est, me [_al._ mihi] aut nulli
prodesse, aut nihil valere comprobabit. Itaque in tali loco
perficiam quod dispono, in quo et scire meum possim
ostendere, et multis prodesse.”
[1027] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 110. His election to the
priorship is recorded in the Life, i. 2. 9. There is no
mention of any such dislike to the promotion on Anselm’s
part as is recorded at his later election as abbot. The
whole account of Anselm’s monastic life, as given by Eadmer
and followed by his modern biographers, is of the deepest
interest. I have noticed only a few special points here and
there.
[1028] See the story in the Life, i. 4. 30.
[1029] Ib. i. 4. 35. His name is given as Cadulus.
[1030] Eadmer, Vit. Ans. i. 36. The scene between the monks
and the abbot-elect, the mutual prayers and prostrations,
are very like to the later scene when he is named archbishop
at Gloucester. The command of the Archbishop of Rouen comes
out emphatically; “Vicit quoque et multo maxime vicit
præceptum, quod, ut supra retulimus, ei fuerat ab
archiepiscopo Maurilio per obedientiam injunctum, videlicet,
ut, si major prælatio quam illius prioratus exstiterat ipsi
aliquando injungeretur, nullatenus eam suscipere recusaret.”
[1031] Ord. Vit. 530 B. “De hospitalitate Beccensium
sufficienter eloqui nequeo. Interrogati Burgundiones et
Hispani, aliique de longe seu de prope adventantes
respondeant: et quanta benignitate ab eis suscepti fuerint,
sine fraude proferant, eosque in similibus imitari sine
fictione satagant. Janua Beccensium patet omni viatori,
eorumque panis nulli denegatur charitative petenti.”
[1032] Ib. A. “Fama sapientiæ hujus didascoli per totam
Latinitatem divulgata est, et nectare bonæ opinionis ejus
occidentalis Ecclesia nobiliter debriata est.”
[1033] See Appendix Y.
[1034] See Appendix Y.
[1035] See Appendix Y.
[1036] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 366.
[1037] There is something amusing in the picture of the two
in the Life of Gundulf, Anglia Sacra, ii. 275. “Anselmus,
quia in scripturis eruditior erat, frequentior loquebatur.
Gundulfus vero, quia in lacrimis profusior erat, magis
fletibus rigabatur. Loquebatur ille; plorabat iste. Ille
plantabat; iste rigabat. Divina ille proferebat eloquia;
profunda iste trahebat suspiria. Christi vices ille, iste
gerebat Mariæ.” There are not a few letters of Anselm
addressed to Gundulf. See Appendix Y.
[1038] Among these was one of the men named Osbern――there
would seem to be more than one――who play a part in the life
of Anselm. There is the Osbern mentioned in the Life, i. 2.
13, 14, as first the bitter enemy and then the chosen friend
of Anselm. He seems to live and die at Bec, and after his
death he appears to Anselm and tells him how the old serpent
thrice rose up against him, but the Lord’s bearward,
“ursarius Domini Dei” (comp. N. C. vol. ii. p. 26), saves
him. Then there is the Osbern mentioned in the Letters, i.
57, 58. This last Osbern is demanded by Lanfranc for his
monastery at Canterbury (“domnus Osbernus quem ad se reduci
auctoritas vestra jubet”), and he is sent to Prior Henry at
Christ Church with a letter of recommendation from Anselm.
In this are the words, “domnus Osbernus vester, qui ad vos
redit, pristinæ vitæ perversitatam sponte accusat et
execratur.” This and a good deal more would exactly suit the
Osbern of the Life, yet it is hardly possible that they can
be the same. But this second Osbern may be the same as the
one who writes the most remarkable letter to Anselm (iii.
2), on which see Appendix Y. Osbern, Osbiorn, is one of
those names which are both English――or at least Danish――and
Norman. That the second Osbern at least was English seems
clear from Epp. i. 60, 65, where we hear of “domnus
Hulwardus [Wulfward] Anglus, consobrinus domni Osberni.” Did
Lanfranc claim all English monks anywhere?
[1039] Domesday, 69 _b_. “Totum manerium valet xii. libras;
valebat xv. libras vivente Mathilde regina, quæ dedit eidem
ecclesiæ.” There were six hides and a half in demesne, and
one hide held by the church of the place.
[1040] Domesday, 159 _b_. “Valuit xl. solidos; modo lx.
solidos. Hæc terra nunquam geldum reddidit.” This
exceptional privilege, designed or casual, might become a
ground of disputes.
[1041] Domesday, 34 _b_. “Sancta Maria de Bech tenet de dono
Ricardi Totinges…. T. R. E. et modo val. c. solidos; cum
recepit xx. solidos.” On these possessions of Bec in England
during the reign of the Conqueror, see N. C. vol. iv. p.
440.
[1042] See Mon. Angl. vii. 1052. An earlier church of
secular canons was changed by Gilbert of Clare into a cell
of Bec. It was removed to Stoke in 1124, made denizen in
1395, and restored to seculars in 1415. See Mon. Angl. vi.
1415. Weedon Beck in Northamptonshire is also said to have
had a cell of Bec, founded shortly after the Conquest.
Weedon appears three times in Domesday, 223, 224 _b_, 227;
but there is no mention of Bec. Ernulf of Hesdin is also
said to have founded a cell to Bec at Ruislip in Middlesex,
Mon. Angl. vii. 1050. Ruislip appears in Domesday, 129 _b_,
as a possession of Ernulf, but there is no mention of Bec.
The chief dependency of Bec in England, Oakburn in
Wiltshire, does not claim an earlier date or founder than
Matilda of Wallingford, daughter of Robert of Oily, in 1149.
[1043] Eadmer, Vit. Ans. i. 5. 37. “Abominabile quippe
judicabat, si quidvis lucri assequeretur ex eo quod alius
contra moderamina juris quavis astutia perdere posset. Unde
neminem in placitis patiebatur a suis aliqua fraude
circumveniri, observans ne cui faceret quod sibi fieri
nollet.” Compare the cunning lawyers whom Abbot Adelelm
found among the monks of Abingdon, N. C. vol. iv. p. 476.
[1044] Ib. “Delegatis monasterii causis curæ ac
sollicitudini fratrum, de quorum vita et strenuitate certus
erat.”
[1045] Ib. 41. “Cum igitur Anselmus, transito mari,
Cantuariam veniret, pro sua reverentia et omnibus nota
sanctitate, honorifice a conventu ecclesiæ Christi in ipsa
civitate sitæ susceptus est.” His discourse to the monks is
given at great length.
[1046] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 441.
[1047] Vit. Ans. i. 5. 41. “Accepta fraternitate monachorum,
factus est inter eos unus ex eis. Degens per dies aliquot
inter eos et quotidie, aut in capitulo, aut in claustro,
mira quædam et illis adhuc temporibus insolita de vita et
moribus monachorum coram eis rationabili facundia
disserens.”
[1048] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 361.
[1049] Vit. Ans. u. s. “Privatim quoque aliis horis agebat,
cum his qui profundioris ingenii erant, profundas eis de
divinis nec non sæcularibus libris quæstiones proponens,
propositasque exponens.”
[1050] Ib. “Quo tempore et ego ad sanctitatis ejus notitiam
pervenire merui, ac, pro modulo parvitatis meæ, beata illius
familiaritate utpote adolescens, qui tunc eram, non parum
potiri.”
[1051] Ib. 6. 45. “Vadens et ad diversa monasteria
monachorum, canonicorum, sanctimonialium, nec non ad curias
quorumque nobilium, prout eum ratio ducebat, perveniens,
lætissime suscipiebatur, et suscepto quæque charitatis
obsequia gratissime ministrabantur.”
[1052] Ib. “Solito more cunctis se jucundum et affabilem
exhibebat, moresque singulorum in quantum sine peccato
poterat, in se suscipiebat.” Eadmer draws out the apostolic
rule at some length, and gives specimens of Anselm’s
discourses to these different classes.
[1053] Vit. Ans. i. 6. 47. “Non eo, ut aliis mos est,
docendi modo exercebat, sed longe aliter singula quæque sub
vulgaribus et notis exemplis proponens, solidæque rationis
testimonio fulciens, ac remota omni ambiguitate, in mentibus
auditorum deponens.”
[1054] Ib. “Lætabatur ergo quisquis illius colloquio uti
poterat, quoniam in eo quodcumque petebatur divinum
consilium in promptu erat.” He had said yet more strongly,
“Corda omnium miro modo in amorem ejus vertebantur, et ad
eum audiendum famelica aviditate replebantur.”
[1055] Ib. 48. He became “pro sua excellenti fama totius
Angliæ partibus notus, ac pro reverenda sanctitate charus
cunctis effectus.” And directly after, “Familiaris ergo ei
dehinc Anglia facta est, et prout diversitas causarum
ferebat, ab eo frequentata.”
[1056] No strictly physical miracle is alleged to have been
wrought by Anselm’s own hands; but several stories are told
by Eadmer in the sixth chapter of the first book of the
Life, in which cures were believed to be done by water in
which he had washed, and the like. In another class of
stories in the third chapter, the bodily wants of Anselm or
his friends are supplied in an unexpected way, but without
any physical miracle. Thus the well-known Walter Tirel,
entertaining Anselm, makes excuses for the lack of fish. The
saint announces that a fine sturgeon is on the road, and it
presently comes.
Eadmer’s book of the Miracles of Anselm, which forms No.
xvi. in Dr. Liebermann’s collection, consists of wonders of
the usual kind at or after Anselm’s death.
[1057] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 704, 713.
[1058] Eadmer, Vit. Ans. i. 6. 47. “Non fuit comes in Anglia
seu comitissa, vel ulla persona potens, quæ non judicaret se
sua coram Deo merita perdidisse, si contingeret se Anselmo
abbati Beccensi gratiam cujusvis officii tunc temporis non
exhibuisse.”
[1059] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 491. So Hist. Nov. 15, “Certe
amicus meus familiaris ab antiquo comes Cestrensis Hugo
fuit.”
[1060] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 14. “Jam enim, quodam quasi
præsagio mentes quorundam tangebantur, et licet clanculo,
nonnulli adinvicem loquebantur, eum, si Angliam iret,
archiepiscopum Cantuariensem fore.” William of Malmesbury
(Gest. Pont. 78), “Erat tamen spes nonnulla his malis posse
imponi finem, si quando Cantuariensem archiepiscopum
viderent, qui esset os omnium, vexillifer prævius, umbo
publicus. Spargebaturque in vulgus rumor, haud equidem sine
mente et numine Dei, ut arbitror, Anselmum fore
archiepiscopum, virum penitus sanctum, anxie doctum, felicem
futuram hujus hominis benedictionibus Angliam.”
[1061] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 312, 491. We might have
guessed from Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 14) that it is Saint
Werburh’s of which he is speaking, when he says, “Hugo comes
Cestrensis volens in sua quadam ecclesia monachorum abbatiam
instituere, missis Beccum nuntiis, rogavit abbatem Anselmum
Angliam venire, locum inspicere, eumque per monachos suos
regulari conversatione informare.” But it is William of
Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 78) who distinctly mentions Chester.
Anselm comes to England, “ut abbatiam apud Cestrum firmaret,
quam ejusdem civitatis comes Hugo monachis potissimum
Beccensibus implere volebat.”
[1062] He had to dwell among “belluini cœtus.” See N. C.
vol. iv. p. 491, and above, p. 127.
[1063] Vit. Ans. ii. 1. 1. “Invitatus, imo districta
interpellatione adjuratus, ab Hugone Cestrensi comite,
multisque aliis Anglorum regni principibus, qui eum animarum
suarum medicum et advocatum elegerant.”
[1064] Ib. “Insuper ecclesiæ suæ prece atque præcepto pro
communi utilitate coactus.”
[1065] Hist. Nov. 14. “Quia hoc [his purpose not to accept
the archbishopric] non omnes intelligebant (providendo bona,
non tantum coram Deo, sed etiam coram omnibus hominibus),
Angliam intrare noluit, ne se hujus rei gratia intrasse
quisquam suspicaretur.”
[1066] Ib. 15. “Si timor suscipiendi archiepiscopatus ne
veniat eum detinet, fateor, inquit, in fide mea, quoniam id,
quod rumor inde jactet, nihil est.”
[1067] Hist. Nov. 15. “Tertio mandat illi hæc, si non
veneris, revera noveris, quia nunquam in vita æterna in
tanta requie eris quin perpetuo doleas te ad me non
venisse.” There is something very striking in the frequent
mixture of strong faith with evil practice in men of Earl
Hugh’s stamp. But his cleaving to such a man as Anselm is at
least more enlightened than the fetish-worship of Lewis the
Eleventh. Cf. Church, Anselm, 173.
[1068] Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 15) gives his reflexions at some
length. They are summed up in the words of William of
Malmesbury, Gest. Pont. 78; “Cæterum quid homines
loquerentur ipsi viderent, cum quantum sua interesset, eorum
obloquia, honesta diu conversatione vitasset.” He adds,
“Simul et jam rumor de ejus archiepiscopatu, minas olim
intentans, longinquitate temporis detepuerat.”
[1069] Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 79. “Ut prædiorum suorum
vectigalia lenito intercessionibus suis rege levigaret.”
[1070] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 15. Several letters of Anselm are
addressed to her. See Appendix Y.
[1071] Hist. Nov. 15. “Mandatum est illi a Beccensibus ne,
si peccato inobedientiæ notari nollet, ultra monasterium
repeteret, donec transito mari, suis in Anglia rebus
subveniret.”
[1072] “Citato gressu, ad comitem venit,” says Eadmer (Hist.
Nov. 15), where he leaves out the interview with the King
which he describes in the Life.
[1073] Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 79. “Hugo … quanquam in
supremis positus, omnium in confessione supercilium
recusans, Anselmum expetebat; veteris amicitiæ pignus apud
eum depositurus si moreretur.”
[1074] Vit. Ans. ii. 1. 1. “Cum quasi ex præsagio futurorum
multi et monachi et laici conclamarent illum archiepiscopum
fore, summo mane a loco decessit, nec ullo pacto acquiescere
petentibus, ut ibi festum celebraret, voluit.”
[1075] Vit. Ans. ii. 1. 1. “Rex ipse solio exsilit, et ad
ostium domus viro gaudens occurrit, ac in oscula ruens per
dexteram eum ad sedem suam perducit.”
[1076] Ib. “Regem de his quæ fama de eo ferebat Anselmus
arguere cœpit, nec quidquam eorum quæ illi dicenda esse
sciebat, silentio pressit. Pene etenim totius regni homines
omnes talia quotidie nunc clam nunc palam de eo dicebant,
qualia regiam dignitatem nequaquam decebant.”
[1077] The language of Eadmer quoted in the last note is
quite vague. In William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 79) we
get one of those remarkable cases in which he first wrote
something strong, and then altered it. He seems (see his
editor’s note) to have first written, “Data secreti copia,
_flagitiorum obscœnitatem_ quibus regem accusabat fama
incunctanter aperuit.” He then struck out the strong words
in Italics and changed them to the vague “cuncta.”
[1078] Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 79. “Famæ licentiæ non se
posse obviare dictitans; ceterum sanctum virum non debere
illa credere. Neque enim procaciore responso exsufflare
hominem tunc volebat, sciens quanti eum pater et mater
pendere soliti essent dum adviverent.”
[1079] Eadmer, in the passage quoted above, distinctly
implies that nothing was said about the affairs of Bec, and
adds, “Finito colloquio divisi ab invicem sunt, et de
ecclesiæ suæ negotiis ea vice ab Anselmo nihil actum est.”
William of Malmesbury, on the other hand, describes Anselm
as speaking of them at this interview (“necessitates quoque
suas modeste allegans”), and William as settling them as
Anselm wished (“ille omnia negotia Beccensis ecclesiæ ad
arbitrium rectoris componens”). I should infer from this,
and from the words “ea vice” in Eadmer, that things were
settled in the end as the monks of Bec wished, but not at
this interview. William of Malmesbury is never very strict
as to chronological order.
[1080] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 15. “Post hæc in Normanniam
regredi volens, negata a rege licentia, copiam id agendi
habere non potuit.” It is not easy, as Dean Church remarks
(Anselm, 175), to see why the King’s leave was needed for
the subject of another prince to go back to his own country.
[1081] Ib. “Sic hujus temporis spatium transiit, ut de
pontificatu Cantuariensi nihil ad eum vel de eo dictum
actumve sit; ipseque sui periculi et antiqui timoris securus
effectus fuerit.”
[1082] Eadmer tells the story, with the comment, “quod
posteris mirum dictu fortasse videbitur.”
[1083] See N. C. vol. i. p. 435.
[1084] Eadmer, u. s. “Ipse, licet nonnihil exinde
indignatus, tamen fieri quod petebatur permisit, dicens quod
quidquid ecclesia peteret, ipse sine dubio pro nullo
dimitteret quin faceret omne quod vellet.” Will. Malms.
Gest. Pont. 79. “Respondit ludibundus, risu iram
dissimulans; ‘Orate quod vultis; ego faciam quod placebit,
quia nullius unquam oratio voluntatem meam labefactabit.’”
The _oratio directa_ of William sounds as if it came nearer
to the King’s actual words than the _oratio obliqua_ of
Eadmer. But we lose much in many of these stories from not
having the Red King’s own vigorous French.
[1085] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 13. Anselm’s chief objection was
that the making of prayers was a specially episcopal
business; “Episcopi, ad quos ista maxime pertinebant,
Anselmum super reipsa consuluerunt. Et quod ipse orationis
agendæ modum et summam ordinaret, vix optinere suis precibus
ab eo potuerant. Episcopis enim præferri in tali statuto
ipse abbas fugiebat.”
[1086] Ib. “Institutæ igitur preces sunt per Anglorum
ecclesias omnes.”
[1087] See Domesday, 163. The entry of Alvestone comes
immediately before the entry of Berkeley.
[1088] This story is told by Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 15, 16) and
William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 80). One would like to
know the name of this “unus de principibus terræ, cum rege
familiariter agens,” who held Anselm in such high esteem. If
it had been Earl Hugh, one might expect that Eadmer would
have said so.
[1089] Ib. “Nec illum quidem maxime, sicut mea multorumque
fert opinio.”
[1090] Ib. “Obtestatus est rex quod manibus ac pedibus
plaudens, in amplexum ejus accurreret, si ullam fiduciam
haberet se ad illum posse ullatenus aspirare, et adjecit,
Sed per sanctum vultum de Luca (sic enim jurare
consueverat), nec ipse hoc tempore nec alius quis
archiepiscopus erit, me excepto.”
[1091] Ib. “Hæc illum dicentem e vestigio valida infirmitas
corripuit, et lecto deposuit, atque indies crescendo ferme
usque ad exhalationem spiritus egit.” He mentions Gloucester
directly after, but the minute geography comes from Florence
(1093); “Rex Willelmus junior, in regia villa quæ vocatur
Alwestan vehementi percussus infirmitate, civitatem
Glawornam festinanter adiit, ibique per totam quadragesimam
languosus jacuit.”
[1092] Here we have the pithy words of the Chronicle; “On
þisum geare to þam længtene warð se cyng W. on Gleaweceastre
to þam swiðe geseclod, þæt he wæs ofer eall dead gekyd.” So
says Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 16); “Omnes totius regni principes
coeunt; episcopi, abbates, et quique nobiles, nihil præter
mortem ejus præstolantes.”
[1093] The good resolutions of the King come out with all
force in the Chronicle; “And on his broke he Gode fela
behæsa behét, his agen lif on riht to lædene, and Godes
cyrcean griðian and friðian, and næfre má eft wið feo
gesyllan, and ealle rihte lage on his þeode to habbene.” The
exhortations come out most clearly in Eadmer; Florence seems
to attribute them to the King’s lay counsellors; “Cum se
putaret cito moriturum, ut ei sui barones suggesserint,” &c.
[1094] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 16. “Hac tempestate Anselmus
inscius horum morabatur in quadam villa non longe a
Glocestria ubi rex infirmabatur.”
[1095] Ib. “Ingreditur ad regem, rogatur quid consilii
salubrius morientis animæ judicet. Exponi sibi primo
postulat, quid se absente ab assistentibus ægro consultum
sit. Audit, probat, et addit, scriptum est, Incipite Domino
in confessione.” He goes on at somewhat further length on
the duty of confession. There is something striking in the
kind of professional air with which the duty is undertaken.
The spiritual physician, called in from a distance, approves
the treatment of the local practitioners, just as a
physician of the body might do.
[1096] Ib. “Spondet in hoc fidem suam, et vades inter se et
Deum facit episcopos suos, mittens, qui hoc votum suum Deo
super altare sua vice promittant.”
[1097] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 16. “Scribitur edictum, regioque
sigillo firmatur, quatenus captivi quicunque sunt in omni
dominatione sua relaxentur, omnia debita irrevocabiliter
remittantur, omnes offensiones antehac perpetratæ, indulta
remissione, perpetuæ oblivioni tradantur.” More general
provisions followed; “Promittuntur insuper omni populo bonæ
et sanctæ leges, inviolabilis observatio juris, injuriarum
gravis, et quæ terreat cæteros, examinatio.” We may
specially regret that we have not the English text of this
momentary Great Charter. Its language seems to assume, like
the charter of Henry (see above, pp. 344, 392), that suits
brought in the King’s name would be unjust, and that his
claims for debts would be unjust also.
[1098] Ib. “Gaudetur a cunctis, benedicitur Deus in istis,
obnixe oratur pro salute talis ac tanti regis.” This is the
real language of the moment, which is weakened by William of
Malmesbury, Gest. Pont. 80; “Plausu exceptum est verbum,
ibatque clamor cælo bona et salutem regi optantium.”
[1099] So says the Chronicle; “to manegan mynstren land
geuðe.”
[1100] There is something odd in the way in which the
Chronicler and Florence couple the two prelates now
appointed; “And þæt arcebiscoprice on Cantwarbyrig, þe ær on
his agenre hand stód. Anselme betæhte, se wæs ær abbot on
Bæc, and Rodbeard his cancelere þæt biscoprice on Lincolne.”
That is to say, they cut the whole story short; or more
truly they tell it on the same scale on which they tell
other things, while we are used to Eadmer’s minute narrative
of all that concerns Anselm.
[1101] See above, p. 13.
[1102] See Appendix Z.
[1103] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 16. They exhort the King to
appoint. He consents willingly; “Sed cunctis ad nutum regis
pendentibus, prænunciavit ipse et concordi voce subsequitur
acclamatio omnium, abbatem Anselmum tali honore
dignissimum.”
[1104] I think we may for a moment turn from the _oratio
obliqua_ of Eadmer to the vivid little picture in William of
Malmesbury; “Ille cubito sese attollens, ‘Hunc,’ ait,
‘sanctum virum Anselmum eligo,’ ingenti subsecuto fragore
faventium.” One is reminded of the death-bed of Eadward, as
drawn in the Tapestry. See N. C. vol. iii. p. 13, note.
[1105] Eadmer, u. s. “Cum raperetur ad regem, ut per virgam
pastoralem investituram archiepiscopatus de manu ejus
susciperet, toto conamine restitit, idque multis
obsistentibus causis nullatenus fieri posse asseruit.”
[1106] “Accipiunt eum episcopi, et ducunt seorsum de
multitudine.”
[1107] “Per tyrannidem istius hominis.”
[1108] “In Deo pro nobis intende, et nos secularia tua
disponemus pro te.”
[1109] “Abbas sum monasterii regni alterius.” “Regnum” of
course means Normandy, an inaccurate phrase, but one that we
have had already (see above, p. 25).
[1110] “Nihil est omnino, non erit quod intenditis.”
[1111] “Rapiunt hominem ad regem ægrotum, et pervicaciam
ejus exponunt.”
[1112] “Contristatus est rex, pene ad suffusionem oculorum,
et dixit ad eum, ‘O Anselme quid agis? Cur me pœnis æternis
cruciandum tradis?’” He adds presently, “Certus sum enim
quod peribo, si archiepiscopatum in meo dominio tenens,
vitam finiero.”
[1113] “Regem turbas, turbatum penitus necas, quandoquidem
illum jam morientem obstinacia tua exacerbare non formidas.”
[1114] Of Baldwin we often hear again; he seems to have been
Anselm’s chief helper at Bec in temporal matters.
[1115] See above, p. 372.
[1116] “Virgam huc pastoralem, virgam, clamitant,
pastoralem. Et arrepto brachio ejus dextro, alii renitentem
trahere, alii impellere, lectoque jacentis cœperunt
applicare.”
[1117] I am but translating Eadmer; “Indice levato, sed
protinus ab eo reflexo, clausæ manui ejus baculus appositus
est, et episcoporum manibus cum eadem manu compressus atque
retentus.”
[1118] “Acclamante autem multitudine, ‘Vivat episcopus,
vivat;’ episcopi cum clero sublimi voce hymnum _Te Deum
laudamus_ decantare cœpere.”
[1119] “Electum portaverunt pontificem potius quam duxerunt
in vicinam ecclesiam.” On the works of Serlo, see N. C. vol.
iv. p. 384.
[1120] “Ipso modis, quibus poterat, resistente, atque
dicente, nihil est quod facitis, nihil est quod facitis.”
[1121] This is Anselm’s own comparison in his letter to the
monks of Bec, Ep. iii. 1; “Quando me episcopi et abbates
aliique primates ad ecclesiam trahentes reclamantem et
contradicentem rapuerunt, ita ut dubium videri posset utrum
sanum insani, an insanum traherent sani; nisi quia illi
canebant et ego magis mortuo quam viventi colore similis
stupore et dolore pallebam.” Presently he says; “Huic autem
de me electioni, imo violentiæ, hactenus quantum potui,
servata veritate, reluctatus sum.” The last word may be
taken in its original physical sense.
[1122] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 18. “Gestis vero quæ in tali causa
geri in ecclesia mos est, revertitur Anselmus ad regem.”
[1123] “Dico tibi, domine rex, quia ex hac tua infirmitate
non morieris, ac pro hoc volo noveris quam bene corrigere
poteris quod de me nunc actum est, quia nec concessi nec
concedo ut ratum sit.”
[1124] The change of place is clearly marked in Eadmer.
“Deducentibus eum episcopis, cum tota regni nobilitate,
cubiculo excessit, conversusque ad eos, in hæc verba
sciscitatus est.” The parable which follows is placed
earlier by William of Malmesbury; but this is surely the
right place.
[1125] 1 Cor. iii. 9.
[1126] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 18. “Hoc aratrum in Anglia duo
boves cæteris precellentes regendo trahunt et trahendo
regunt. Rex videlicet, et archiepiscopus Cantuariensis. Iste
seculari justitia et imperio, ille divina doctrina et
magisterio.” This must mean during the late reign.
[1127] “Horum boum unus, scilicet Lanfrancus archiepiscopus,
mortuus est; et alius ferocitatem indomabilis tauri obtinens
jam juvenis aratro prælatus, et vos loco mortui bovis, me
vetulam ac debilem ovem cum indomito tauro conjungere
vultis.”
[1128] “Indomabilis utique feritas tauri sic ovem lanæ et
lactis et agnorum fertilem per spinas et tribulos hac et
illac raptam, si jugo se non excusserit, dilacerabit.” So a
little after; “Me, de quo lanam et lac verbi Dei, et agnos
in servitium ejus, nonnulli possent habere.” The metaphor
becomes passing strange when it is thus worked out in
detail.
[1129] “Ad hospitium suum, dimissa curia, vadit.”
[1130] “Præcepit itaque rex, ut, sine dilatione ac
diminutione, investiretur de omnibus ad archiepiscopatum
pertinentibus intus et extra.” Eadmer goes on to speak about
the city of Canterbury, the abbey of Saint Alban’s, and
other things of which we shall have to speak again. But he
can only mean that orders were given which were not
immediately carried out; for the actual investiture was, as
we shall see, delayed for some months.
[1131] Ep. iii. 3. “Ipsius namque inenarrabili potentia
operante, dedit dominus noster rex Anglorum, consilio et
rogatu principum suorum, cleri quoque et populi petitione et
electione, domino abbati Anselmo Cantuariensis ecclesiæ
gubernationem.” So says Anselm himself in his letter to
Archbishop Hugh of Lyons, Ep. iii. 24; “Subdidi me dolens
præcepto archiepiscopi mei et electioni totius Angliæ.”
[1132] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 591, 593.
[1133] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 19.
[1134] See Appendix Y.
[1135] Ep. iii. 8. “Reverendo domino nostro principe
Northmannorum Roberto concedente; et archiepiscopo nostro
Guillelmo præcipiente, et vobis a Deo coactis, faventibus, a
vestra cura sum absolutus, et majori involutus.” Both Anselm
and the King wrote letters; Eadmer, 19, 20.
[1136] See the letter of the monks, Epp. iii. 6.
[1137] This seems implied in Anselm’s presence at Winchester
at Easter, which is recorded in the Life, ii. 1. 3. But his
presence there is mentioned only to bring in a kind of
miracle, in which Anselm, Gundulf, and the monk Baldwin all
figure.
[1138] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. i. 19. “Siquidem omne malum quod
rex fecerat, priusquam fuerat infirmatus, bonum visu est,
comparatione malorum quæ fecit ubi est sanitati redonatus,”
[1139] “Ipse prædicto Roffensi episcopo, cum illum,
recuperata sanitate, familiari affatu moneret ut se amplius
circumspecte secundum Deum in omnibus haberet respondit.”
(See above, p. 165.)
[1140] The Chronicler says generally; “Ac þæt he syððan
ætbræd, þa him gebotad wæs, and ealle þa gode laga forlǽt,
þe he us ær behét.” We get the details from Eadmer; “Mox
igitur cuncta quæ infirmus statuerat bona, dissolvit et
irrita esse præcepit. Captivi nempe, qui nondum fuerant
dimissi, jussit ut artius solito custodirentur, dimissi, si
capi possent, recluderentur; antiqua jamque donata debita in
integrum exigerentur; placita et offensiones in pristinum
statum revocarentur, illorumque judicio, qui justitiam
subvertere magis quam tueri defendereve curabant,
tractarentur et examinarentur.”
[1141] Florence notices the death of Rhys ap Twdwr in the
Easter week, of which I shall have much to say in the next
chapter.
[1142] See above, p. 370.
[1143] See above, p. 33.
[1144] See above, p. 276.
[1145] This action of William of Eu is marked by Florence at
the end of the year, but without saying at what time of the
year it happened; “Eodem anno Willelmus comes de Owe, auri
ingenti victus aviditate et promissi honoris captus
magnitudine, a naturali domino suo Rotberto Normannorum
comite, cui fidelitatem juraverat, defecit et in Angliam ad
regem Willelmum veniens, illius se dominio, ut seductor
maximus, subjugavit.”
[1146] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 538, 684.
[1147] Anna Comnena tells us this, vii. 6. Robert, on his
return from Jerusalem (ὁ Φλάνδρας κόμης ἐξ Ἱεροσολύμων
ἐπανερχόμενος [ho Phlandras komês ex Hierosolymôn
epanerchomenos]), does homage to the Emperor (τὸν συνήθη
τοῖς Λατίνοις ἀποδίδωσιν ὅρκον [ton synêthê tois Latinois
apodidôsin horkon]) and promises five hundred knights
(ἱππεῖς [hippeis]). In viii. 7 we find that he had fulfilled
his promise, and that they are ἱππεῖς ἔκκριτοι [hippeis
ekkritoi]. In viii. 3 they figure as Κελτοί [Keltoi]. Cf.
Will. Malms. iii. 257.
[1148] We have heard of him in N. C. vol. v. pp. 181, 850,
and we shall come across him again.
[1149] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 20. “Jam cum virga pastorali curam
quam super Beccum abbas susceperat, pro descripta superius
absolutione, ipse Becco restituerat.”
[1150] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 327, 328.
[1151] This seems to be the distinction drawn by Anselm,
Hist. Nov. 19, 20; “Volo ut omnes terras quas ecclesia
Cantuariensis, ad quam regendam electus sum, tempore beatæ
memoriæ Lanfranci archiepiscopi tenebat, sine omni placito
et controversia ipsi ecclesiæ restituas, et de aliis terris
quas eadem ecclesia ante suum tempus habebat, sed perditas
nondum recuperavit, mihi rectitudinem judiciumque
consentias.” About anything which Lanfranc had actually held
there could, it is assumed, be no question, either of law or
of fact; about earlier claims there might easily be either.
[1152] Ib. 20. “Sicut ego te volo terrenum habere dominum et
defensorem, ita et tu me spiritualem habeas patrem et animæ
tuæ provisorem.” To this day it is held that, wherever the
King may be, the Archbishop of Canterbury is his parish
priest.
[1153] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 436.
[1154] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 435.
[1155] Ib. p. 436, note.
[1156] Ib. The language of Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 25, is nearly
to the same effect; “Erant quippe (illo tempore) duo, ut in
Anglia ferebatur, qui dicebantur Romani pontifices a se
invicem discordantes, et ecclesiam Dei inter se divisam post
se trahentes.”
[1157] There is a most important passage of William of
Malmesbury in his first draught of the Gesta Pontificum (p.
86, note) which he afterwards, as in so many other cases,
found it expedient to tone down. As he wrote it, it stood
thus;
“Erant his diebus duo competitores Romani præsulatus, summi
ambo et prestantes viri. Uterque causam verisimilibus
rationibus fulciebat, Urbanus electione cardinalium,
Guibertus electione imperatoris Theutonum, cujus esset Roma
et Italia. Neuter ergo pro persona sua cedebat. Guiberto
necessitatem subjectionis ministrabat terrarum tractus qui
sub imperio illius jacet; Urbano favebat omnis Gallia et
Normannia, et cetera usque ad oceanum Brittannicum. Incertum
cui faveret Divinitas, nisi quod Urbani fama prosperius
crementum sumebat. Consensu dubio fluctuabat Anglia, in
Guibertum tamen inclinatior propter metum regis.”
[1158] See above, p. 117.
[1159] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 25. “Urbano jamdudum pro vicario
beati Petri ab Italia Galliaque recepto; Anselmus etiam,
utpote abbas de Normannia, eum pro papa receperat, et, sicut
vir nominatissimus, necnon authoritate plenus ejus literas
susceperat, eique velut summo sanctæ ecclesiæ pastori suas
direxerat.”
[1160] Ib. 20. “De Romano quoque pontifice Urbano, quem pro
apostolico hucusque non recepisti, et ego jam recepi atque
recipio, eique debitam obedientiam et subjectionem exhibere
volo, cautum te facio ne quod scandalum inde oriatur in
futuro.”
[1161] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 25. “Terras de quibus ecclesia
saisita quidem fuerat sub Lanfranco omnes eo, quo tunc
erant, tibi modo restituam, sed de illis quas sub ipso non
habebat, in præsenti nullam tecum conventionem instituo.
Veruntamen de his et aliis credam tibi sicut debebo.”
[1162] Eadmer, Nov. Hist. 25. “Quatenus et secundum totius
regni de eo factam electionem pontifex fieri ultra non
negaret.” Here are the same kind of expressions with regard
to Anselm’s election of which we have already spoken in p.
405.
[1163] Ib. “Et terras ecclesiæ quas ipse rex, defuncto
Lanfranco, suis dederat pro statuto servitio, illis ipsis
hæreditario jure tenendas, causa sui amoris, condonaret.”
[1164] Ib. “Nolens ecclesiam, quam necdum re aliqua
investierat, exspoliare.”
[1165] This letter (Ep. iii. 24) is a most important
exposition of Anselm’s own views on the whole matter of the
election and what followed it.
[1166] Ep. iii. 24. “Sub occasione cujusdam _voluntariæ
justitiæ_, secundum quam de terris eisdem me vult
placitare.”
[1167] Ib. “Hæc autem est illa quam dixi voluntaria
justitia. Quoniam terras easdem, antequam Northmanni Angliam
invaderent, milites Angli ab archiepiscopo Cantuariæ
tenuisse dicuntur, et mortui sunt sine hæredibus, vult
asserere se posse juste quos vult eorum hæredes
constituere.”
[1168] See the instances collected in N. C. vol. v. Appendix
G. The lands moreover would be yet harder to get back when
they had been granted away on the new military tenures.
[1169] Ep. iii. 24. “Si quis enim alius, ad quem ecclesiæ
custodia non pertineret, hanc faceret ei violentiam, aut
factam patienter sustineret, palam esset quia in futuro
nihil dici posset cur res ecclesiæ ad eam redire non
deberent.”
[1170] Ib. “Nunc autem cum et ipse rex advocatus ejus sit,
et ego custos, quid dicetur in futuro nisi, quia rex fecit
et archiepiscopus sustinendo confirmavit, ratum esse debet?”
[1171] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 194; vol. v. p. 101.
[1172] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 20. “Unde Anselmus oppido lætatus
est, sperans se hac occasione, a prælationis onere, per Dei
gratiam, exonerandum.” And directly after; “Eo quod terras
ecclesiæ injuria dare nolebat, episcopalis officii onus sese
lætus evasisse videbat.”
[1173] Ib. “Cum decursu non exiguo tempore, clamorem omnium,
de ecclesiarum destructione conquerentium.”
[1174] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 20. “Multis bonis et ecclesiæ Dei
profuturis promissionibus illectus [Anselmus].”
[1175] Ib. “More et exemplo prædecessoris sui inductus, _pro
usu terræ_, homo regis factus est, et, sicut Lanfrancus suo
tempore fuerat, de toto archiepiscopatu saisiri jussus est.”
Does not Eadmer, writing by later lights from Rome, feel
scruples which Anselm did not feel at the time?
[1176] When one thinks of this, one is less surprised at the
astounding language of the Council in Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 53.
Yet, after all, Henry the Fourth was not Rufus.
[1177] We have the writ in the Fœdera, i. 5. It grants
“omnes libertates in terra et mari super suos homines, infra
burgos et extra, et super tot theines quot ecclesiæ Christi
concessit Edwardus rex, cognatus meus.” This mention of the
thegns, and the King’s request about the grants, and the
words of Anselm to the Archbishop of Lyons, all hang
together.
[1178] Ib. “Nolo pati ut aliquis hominum se intromittat de
omnibus rebus quæ ad eos pertinent, nisi ipsi et ministri
eorum quibus ipsi committere voluerint, nec Francus nec
Anglus.”
[1179] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 18 (see above, p. 403). “At
civitas Cantuaria quam Lanfrancus suo tempore in beneficio a
rege tenebat, et abbatia sancti Albani quam non solum
Lanfrancus sed et antecessores ejus habuisse noscuntur, in
alodium ecclesiæ Christi Cantuariensis, pro redemptione
animæ suæ, perpetuo jure, transirent.”
[1180] They were old friends. The Gesta Abbatum (i. 61) go
on to say; “Rex Willelmus secundus archiepiscopatum, quem
diu in manu sua tenuit, immisericors depauperavit. Abbas
autem Paulus Anselmum egentem juvit et consolabatur. Unde,
inthronizatus, in multis beneficia potiora gratus abbati
recompensavit, et quod imperfectum erat in ædificiis
ecclesiæ sancti Albani juvit postea consummare.”
[1181] Ib. i. 65. “Nemora complanando, hominibus beati
Albani pecuniam, causis cavillatoriis adinventis,
extorquendo.” Rufus is described as “nullius, præcipue
mortui, verus amicus.”
[1182] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 20. “Indignationi hoc quoque non
parum doloris adjiciebat, quod negotium unde agebatur ad
jura ecclesiæ pertinebat, nec in aliquo regalis judicii
definitionem respiciebat.”
[1183] Ib. “A rege missus quidam nomine Ranulphus, regiæ
voluntatis maximus executor, qui, spreta consideratione
pietatis ac modestiæ, placitum contra eum ipsa die
instituit, et ferus ac tumens, tantum ecclesiæ gaudium
conturbare non timuit.” Directly after; “ut nec primum
quidem suæ dignitatis diem permitteretur in pace
transigere.”
[1184] Ib. “Ex præsentibus futura conjecit, et quia multas
in pontificatu angustias foret passurus, intellexit atque
prædixit.”
[1185] The consecration of Anselm and the death of Malcolm
are oddly joined together in the new Canterbury Chronicle
published by Liebermann, (p. 4); “1094. On ðison geare me
bletsede Anselm to biscope ii. ñ. Decemb.; and on ðison
geare me scloch Malculm cing.”
[1186] T. Stubbs, X Scriptt. 1707. He adds emphatically,
“Hæc interim fecit Thomas archiepiscopus, nec quisquam
episcoporum erat qui hæc in sua ipsius diœcesi præsente
archiepiscopo præsumeret.”
[1187] Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 21) describes the consecrators as
“Thomas archiepiscopus Eboracensis et omnes episcopi
Angliæ,” except the two who sent excuses. But Dr. Stubbs
does not seem to reckon the Bishop of Durham among the
number.
[1188] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 417.
[1189] The foundations had just been laid, as we shall see
in the next chapter.
[1190] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 340.
[1191] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 21. “Cum ante ordinandi pontificis
examinationem Walchelinus Wentanus episcopus, rogatu
Mauricii episcopi Lundoniensis cujus hoc officium est,
ecclesiastico more electionem scriptam legeret.” This is, I
suppose, as Dean of the Province, an office still held by
the Bishops of London, and by virtue of which they do
several of the things which Thomas Stubbs claims for his own
metropolitan.
[1192] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 21. Walkelin reads the writing
till he comes to the words which set forth how “hæc
Dorobernensis ecclesia totius Britanniæ metropolitana suo
sit viduata pastore.” Then Thomas “subintulit, dicens totius
Britanniæ metropolitana? Si totius Britanniæ metropolitana,
ecclesia Eboracensis quæ metropolitana esse scitur,
metropolitana non est. Et quidem ecclesiam Cantuariensem
primatem totius Britanniæ esse scimus, non metropolitanam.”
[1193] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 21. “Quod auditum ratione submixum
esse, quod dicebat intellectum est.”
[1194] Ib. “Tunc statim scriptura ipsa mutata est, et pro
totius Britanniæ metropolitana, totius Britanniæ primas
scriptum est, et omnis controversia conquievit. Itaque
sacravit eum ut totius Britanniæ primatem.”
The Yorkist version, as given by T. Stubbs (X Scriptt.
1707), is of course quite different. Thomas is there
attended by several members of his church, Hugh the Dean and
others. This might almost imply the absence of his one
suffragan. The words objected to are in this version “Primas
totius Britanniæ.” As soon as they are heard, Thomas and his
companions go out and take off their robes. Anselm and
Walkelin follow them; they fall at the feet of Thomas, and
ask for his forgiveness (“pedibus archiepiscopi affusi
humiliter deprecati sunt, ne moleste acciperet”). Thomas
stands firm. “Cum duo tantum, inquit, sint metropolitæ in
Britannia, alter super alterum esse non potest.” He might
have erred in his youth by admitting the claims of
Canterbury; he would at least not err in the like sort
again. He would consecrate no man as primate. Anselm and
Walkelin submit; the word “primate” is struck out, and
Anselm is consecrated as “metropolitan.”
It will be seen that in this version the place of the two
titles, “primate” and “metropolitan,” is simply turned
round. We can have no doubt as to preferring the
contemporary account; but it is well to see how matters
looked at York several centuries later.
[1195] There is no mention of this in Eadmer’s account of
the consecration; but such seems to be the meaning of Anselm
himself in a letter to Walter, Bishop of Albano, which I
shall have to quote again (Epp. iii. 36). He there says,
“Sub professione obedientiæ Romani pontificis me
consecrarunt.” This is an answer to a charge of being
schismatically consecrated while the kingdom was not under
the obedience of Urban.
[1196] See above, p. 311.
[1197] See above, p. 312.
[1198] T. Stubbs, X Scriptt. 1707. “Non prohibebat quin eum
Dorkacestrensem ordinaret episcopum, sicut et antecessores
sui fuerant; verum Lyndecoldinum oppidum, et magnam partem
provinciæ Lyndisiæ dicebat fuisse, et jure esse debere,
parochiam Eboracensis ecclesiæ, et injuria illi ereptam
esse.”
[1199] Eadmer does not mention the place; but it appears
from the Chronicle that it was at the usual place, namely
Gloucester.
[1200] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 21. “Consummato ordinationis suæ
die octavo, Cantuariam egrediens, ad curiam regis pro
imminente nativitate Domini vadit. Quo perveniens, hilariter
a rege totaque regni nobilitate suscipitur.”
[1201] See N. C. vol. iii. pp. 69, 260.
[1202] Again it is from the Chronicler that we get the most
formal statement of the words of the challenge. They would
doubtless be uttered in French; but we may believe that we
have an authorized English version; “Him þider fram his
broðer Rodbearde of Normandig bodan coman, þa cyddon þæt his
broðer grið and forewarde eall æftercwæð, butan se cyng
gelæstan wolde eall þet hi on forewarde hæfdon ær gewroht,
and uppon þæt hine forsworenne, and trywleasne clypode,
buton he þa forewarda geheolde, oððe þider ferde, and hine
þær betealde þær seo forewarde ǽr wæs gewroht and eac
gesworen.”
[1203] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 21. “Adeo ut nonnullas etiam
difficultates pateretur, quas regiam pati excellentiam
indecens videbatur.”
[1204] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 300.
[1205] Eadmer, u. s. “Siquidem hunc ipse rex morem erga
cunctos quibus dominatur habebat, ut quum quis eorum aliquid
ei pecuniarum, etiam solius gratiæ obtentu, offerebat,
oblatum, nisi quantitas rei voto illius concurreret,
sperneret. Nec offerentem in suam ulterius amicitiam
admittebat, si ad determinationem suam oblatum munus non
augeret.”
[1206] He does it only “suasus ab amicis suis.”
[1207] Anselm himself gives this motive in his letter to
Archbishop Hugh (Ep. iii. 24); “Gratias Deo, quo miserante
simplicitatem cordis mei hoc factum est, ne, si nihil aut
parum promisissem, justam videretur habere causam irascendi;
aut si accepisset, verteretur mihi in gravamen, et in
suspicionem nefandæ emptionis.”
[1208] Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 21) gives these motives at length.
[1209] Ib. “Rex tali oblatione audita, bene rem quidem
laudando respondit.”
[1210] These are the arguments which Eadmer puts into the
mouths of the King’s advisers; “Quidam malignæ mentis
homines regem, ut fieri solet, ad hoc perduxerunt quatenus
oblatam pecuniam spernendo recipere non adquiesceret.”
[1211] Eadmer here quotes a psalm; “Mentita est iniquitas
sibi.” Ps. xxvii. 12.
[1212] Ib. “Mandatur illi regem oblatam pecuniam refutare,
et miratus est.”
[1213] Ib. 22. “Amica nempe libertate me et omnia mea ad
utilitatem tuam habere poteris, servili autem conditione nec
me nec mea habebis.”
[1214] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 441.
[1215] Eadmer, u. s. “Iratus rex, Sint, inquit, cum jurgio
tua tibi, sufficient mea mihi. Vade.”
[1216] The story is told by Eadmer, 22. The objection of
Maurice takes this shape; “Dicebat ipsam ecclesiam in sua
parochia esse, et ob hoc, licet in terra archiepiscopi
fuerit, dedicationem illius ad se pertinere.” The right of
the Archbishop seems to have rested on good ancient
precedent; but there is something odd in Eadmer’s way of
stating the controversy. The presumption was surely in
favour of the diocesan bishop.
[1217] The letter of Anselm to Wulfstan appears among the
Epistles (iii. 19). Wulfstan’s answer is given in the text
of the Historia Novorum. Anselm speaks of the action of the
earlier archbishops in this matter; “Quod etiam sanctus
Dunstanus et alii prædecessores mei fecisse probantur, ipsis
ecclesiis quas dedicaverunt adhuc stantibus.” This is a
little touch from a time when the churches of Dunstan’s day
were being largely rebuilt, that of Harrow most likely among
them. Wulfstan is well described by Eadmer; “Supererat adhuc
beatæ memoriæ Wolstanus episcopus unus et solus de antiquis
Anglorum patribus, vir in omni religione conspicuus, et
antiquarum Angliæ consuetudinum scientia apprime eruditus.”
There is something very remarkable in the way in which
Wulfstan speaks of the archbishop to whom he made his first
profession (see N. C. vol. ii. pp. 473, 655); “Extant quippe
et in nostra diœcesi altaria, et quædam etiam ecclesiæ in
hiis scilicet villis quas Stigandus vestræ excellentiæ
prædecessor, haut tamen jure ecclesiasticæ hæreditatis sed
ex dono possederat sæcularis potestatis, ab ipso dedicata.”
Wulfstan, speaking his own words in his own letter, speaks
of Stigand in quite another tone from that which he had used
in the profession which was put into his mouth by Lanfranc
(see N. C. vol. ii. p. 655). The places referred to are in
Gloucestershire, and will be found in Domesday, 164 _b_.
Most of the lands had passed to the Archbishop of York; some
of them first to William Fitz-Osbern, and then to the King.
It would seem then that, in whatever character Stigand held
them, it was not as Archbishop of Canterbury. Wulfstan’s
witness therefore goes so far as to give the archbishop the
right to oust the diocesan bishop, not only on the lands of
the archbishopric, but on any lands which he may hold as a
private man.
[1218] There is something amusing in the tone of glee in
which Eadmer records his patron’s triumph; “Secure deinceps
suorum morem antecessorum emulabatur, non solum ecclesias,
inconsultis episcopis, sacrans, sed et quæque divina officia
in cunctis terris suis per se suosve dispensans.”
[1219] Eadmer, 22. “Ex præcepto regis, omnes fere episcopi
una cum principibus Angliæ ad Hastinges convenerunt, ipsum
regem in Normanniam transfretaturum sua benedictione et
concursu prosecuti.”
[1220] The Chronicler seems distinctly to mark the
ecclesiastical business which we have now come to as
casually filling up the time lost by the bad weather. The
whole entry runs; “Ða ferde se cyng to Hæstingan to þam
Candelmæssan, and onmang þam þe he þær wederes abad he let
halgian þæt mynster æt þære Bataille. And Herbearde Losange
þam bishop of Theotfordan his stæf bename and þæræfter to
midlengtene ofer sæ for into Normandige.” We shall take
these things in order.
[1221] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 404.
[1222] Ib. 401.
[1223] In the Battle Chronicle (40) the consecration is
naturally an event of great importance. But here too the
presence of the King and so great a company is accounted for
by their presence in the neighbourhood or other grounds;
“Cumque jam operis fabricæ peroptata advenisset perfectio,
rege quibusdam causis obortis eandem provinciam cum multis
optimatibus forte adeunte, ex instinctu ejusdem abbatis,
paterni memor edicti, eandem dedicari basilicam decrevit.”
[1224] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 405.
[1225] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 453.
[1226] He was consecrated the year before; the date of his
death seems not to be known. See Bessin, 531.
[1227] See above, p. 321.
[1228] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 411.
[1229] See above, p. 29.
[1230] See Appendix Z.
[1231] So says T. Stubbs, X Scriptt. 1708. “Rex Willelmus
quamdam concordiam, vel potius dispensationem, fecit inter
illos, Thoma quidem archiepiscopo invito et renitente et
coacto nec consentiente, sed inconsulto Eboracensi
capitulo.”
[1232] Eadmer, 23. “Quidam de episcopis atque principibus
conati sunt contra Anselmum scandalum movere, intendentes ad
hoc ut eundem episcopum absolute absque debita professione
consecraret. Quod nullo jure fulti, ea solummodo re sunt
aggressi, quia putabant se animo regis aliquid ex
conturbatione Anselmi, unde lætaretur inferre, scientes eum
pro suprascripta caussa adversum ipsum non parum esse
turbatum.”
[1233] Eadmer, 23. “Asseruit se nullo pacto consensurum ut,
pro inimicitia quam contra archiepiscopum habebat, matri suæ
ecclesiæ Cantuariensi de sua dignitate quid quivis
detraherat.”
[1234] See Appendix Z.
[1235] On the history and character of Robert Bloet, see
Appendix Z.
[1236] See above, p. 395.
[1237] See above, p. 355, and Appendix X.
[1238] This deprivation of Herbert by the King――most likely
with the consent of somebody, but we are not told――is quite
as contrary to strict ecclesiastical notions as the
deprivation of Stigand by the English people. The
Parliaments of Elizabeth, William and Mary, George the
First, followed that precedent. I will not speak of the
reign of Edward the Sixth, as that was a time of “unlaw”
nearly equal to the days of Rufus himself.
[1239] See Appendix X.
[1240] Here we come personally across the class of offenders
of whom we have before spoken generally (see above, p. 158,
and Appendix G). Eadmer draws their picture; “Eo tempore
curialis juventus ferme tota crines suos juvencularum more
nutriebat, et quotidie pexa, ac irreligiosis nutibus
circumspectans, delicatis vestigiis, tenero incessu,
obambulare solita erat. De quibus cum in capite jejunii
sermonem in populo ad missam suam et ad cineres confluente
idem pater habuisset, copiosam turbam ex illis in
pœnitentiam egit, et attonsis crinibus, in virilem formam
redegit.”
[1241] See Appendix G.
[1242] This is pointed out by Eadmer. “Die quadam ad eum _ex
more_ ivit, et juxta illum sedens eum his verbis alloqui
cœpit.” We shall come to other instances of this custom of
the Archbishop sitting down beside the King.
[1243] “Obsecro primum, fer opem et consilium qualiter in
hoc regno tuo Christianitas, quæ jam fere tota in multis
periit, in statum suum redigi possit. Respondit, ‘Quam opem,
quod consilium?’”
[1244] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 437.
[1245] Anselm is made to say; “Generale concilium
episcoporum ex quo tu rex factus fuisti non fuit in Anglia
celebratum, _nec retroactis pluribus annis_.” Yet Lanfranc
had held many synods, and one notable one as late as 1085.
See N. C. vol. iv. p. 687.
[1246] He passes by the smaller matters――“ut illicita
consanguineorum connubia et alia multa rerum detestandarum
facinorosa negotia taceam”――and goes straight to the sin of
the reign, “noviter in hac terra divulgatum,” which “jam
plurimum pullulavit multosque sua immanitate fœdavit.” See
Appendix G.
[1247] “Conemur una, quæso, tu regia potestate et ego
pontificali auctoritate, quantus tale quid inde statuatur,
quod cum per totum fuerit regnum divulgatum, solo etiam
auditu quicunque illius fautor est paveat et deprimatur.”
What would have been the nature of the punishment? Something
more, one would think, than an ecclesiastical censure, as it
was to be a decree of the King. Anselm had no objection to
very severe punishments on occasion (see N. C. vol. v. p.
159; cf. vol. iv. p. 621). But when he was able to legislate
on this subject (see N. C. vol. v. p. 223), it was in an
ecclesiastical synod, and the penalties are milder.
[1248] “Non sederunt hæc animo principis, et paucis ita
respondit, ‘Et in hac re quid fieret pro te?’ ‘Si non,’
inquit Anselmus, ‘pro me, spero fieret pro Deo et te.’” I
suppose the meaning is something like what I have given.
Again one longs for the actual words in their own tongue.
[1249] “Ne in destructione monasteriorum et perditione
monachorum tibi, quod absit, damnationem adquiras.”
[1250] “Quid ad te? Numquid sunt abbatiæ meæ? Hem, tu quod
vis agis de villis tuis, et ego non agam quod volo de
abbatiis meis?”
[1251] “Tuæ quidem sunt ut illas quasi advocatus defendas
atque custodias, non tuæ autem ut invadas aut devastes. Dei
scimus eas esse, ut sui ministri inde vivant, non quo
expeditiones et bella tua inde fiant.”
[1252] “Intellexit ergo Anselmus se verba in ventum
proferre, et surgens abiit.”
[1253] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 687.
[1254] “Considerans offenso principis animo nequaquam posse
pacem rebus dari.”
[1255] “Deprecatus est ut in amicitiam sui sese _gratis_
admitteret. Quod si, ait, facere nonvult, cur nolit edicat,
et si offendi, satisfacere paratus sum.”
[1256] “De nulla re illum inculpo, nec tamen ei gratiam
meam, _quia non audio quare_, indulgere volo.” The words
which I have put in Italics in the two speeches must be
taken together.
[1257] “Mysterium hoc, inquiunt, planum est.”
[1258] “Tantundem pecuniæ quam ab hominibus tuis accipies
illi promitte.”
[1259] “Aliam qua exeas viam non videmus, nec nos, pari
angustia clausi, aliam exeundi habemus.”
[1260] “Et ego cum hucusque nihil eis unde revestiri possint
contulerim, jam eos nudos spoliarem, immo spoliatos
excoriarem.”
[1261] “Eat quo vult, nec me transfretaturum pro danda
benedictione diutius exspectet.”
[1262] Chron. Petrib. 1094. “Syððan he þider com, he and his
broðer Rodbeard se eorl gecwæðan, þæt hi mid griðe togædere
cuman sceoldan, and swa dydon, and gesemede beon ne mihtan.”
So Florence; “Rex … ad fratris colloquium sub statuta pace
venit, sed impacatus ab eo recessit.”
[1263] See N. C. vol. i. p. 435.
[1264] Chron. Petrib. 1094. “Syððan eft hi togædere coman
mid þam ilcan mannan þe ær þæt loc makedon, and eac þa aðas
sworen, and ealne þone bryce uppon þone cyng tealdon.” The
version preserved in one manuscript of Florence says, “denuo
in campo Martio convenere.” Can this be the “Champ de Mars”
just outside Rouen? I had fancied that the name was modern.
[1265] Ib. “Ac he nolde þæs geþafa beon, ne eac þa forewarde
healdan.”
[1266] Chron. Petrib. 1094. “And forþam hi þa mid mycelon
unsehte tocyrdon.”
[1267] The mention of the places comes from Florence; “Comes
quidem Rotomagum perrexit; rex ad Owe rediit et in illo
resedit.”
[1268] Flor. Wig. 1094. “Solidarios undique conduxit, aurum,
argentum, terras, quibusdam primatum Normanniæ dedit,
quibusdam promisit, ut a germano suo Rotberto deficerent, et
se cum castellis suæ ditioni subjicerent: quibus ad velle
suum paratis, per castella, vel quæ prius habuerat vel quæ
nunc conduxerat, suos milites distribuit.”
[1269] The “castel æt Hulme” of the Chronicler is the castle
of Hulmus, Le Homme, or L’Isle Marie. See Stapleton, ii.
xxv, xxviii. It must not be confounded with the “pagus
Holmensis” or “Holmetia regio” in the Hiesmois. See
Stapleton, ii. xc, xcv, and Ord. Vit. 691 C.
[1270] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 488. See above, p. 57.
[1271] Ib. vol. iv. pp. 200, 201.
[1272] Chron. Petrib. 1094. “And se cyng syððan þone castel
æt Bures gewann; and þes eorles men þærinne genam; þa sume
hyder to lande sende.” Florence adds, “partim in Normannia
custodiæ mancipavit; et fratrem suum multis modis vexans,
exhæredare laboravit.”
[1273] The Chronicler casually mentions Philip’s coming when
speaking of the siege of Argentan; Florence is more
emphatic; “At ille, necessitate compulsus, dominum suum
regem Francorum Philippum cum exercitu Normanniam adduxit.”
[1274] The Chronicler (1094) says only, “Ðær togeanes se
eorl mid þes cynges fultume of France gewann þone castel æt
Argentses and þearinne Rogger Peiteuin genam, and seofen
hundred þes cynges cnihta mid him.” Florence adds, “ipso die
obsessionis dec. milites regis, cum his totidem scutariis et
castellanis omnibus qui intus erant, sine sanguinis
effusione cepit [rex], captosque in custodia tamdiu detineri
mandavit, donec quisque se redimeret.”
[1275] So says Florence; “Post hæc in Franciam rediit.” As
however he says nothing of Philip’s coming to Longueville,
he may mean his return after that.
[1276] The Chronicler says only, after the taking of
Argentan, “and syððan þone [castel] æt Hulme.” Florence
makes it the special exploit of Robert; “Comes vero
Rotbertus castellum quod Holm nuncupatur obsedit, donec
Willelmus Peverel et dccc. homines, qui id defendebant, illi
se dederent.”
[1277] Chron. Petrib. 1094. “And oftrædlice heora ægðer
uppon oðerne tunas bærnde, and eac men læhte.”
[1278] Flor. Wig. 1094. “Interea gravi et assiduo tributo
hominumque mortalitate, præsenti et anno sequenti, tota
vexabatur Anglia.”
[1279] Chron. Petrib. 1094. “Ða sende se cyng hider to
lande, and hét abeodan út xx. þusenda Engliscra manna [‘xx.
millia pedonum’ in Florence] him to fultume to Normandig.”
[1280] Chron. Petrib. 1094. “Ac þa hi to sæ coman, þa het hi
man cyrran, and þæt feoh to þæs cynges behófe þe hi genumen
hæfdon; þet wæs ælc man healf punda, and hi swa dydon.”
Florence tells us the place and the doer; “Quibus ut mare
transirent Heastingæ congregatis, pecuniam quæ data fuerat
eis ad victum Rannulphus Passeflambardus præcepto regis
abstulit, scilicet unicuique decem solidos, et eos domum
repedare mandavit, pecuniam vero regi transmisit.”
[1281] Chron. Petrib. 1094. “And se eorl innon Normandig
æfter þison, mid þam cynge of France and mid eallon þan þe
hi gegaderian mihton, ferdon towardes Ou þær se cyng W. inne
wæs, and þohtan hine inne to besittanne, and swa foran oð hi
coman to Lungeuile.”
[1282] Ib. “Ðær wearð se cyng of France þurh gesmeah
gecyrred, and swa syððan eal seo fyrding tóhwearf.”
[1283] Florence, as we have seen, stops with the taking of
La Houlme in 1094. The Chronicler goes on to Henry’s Lenten
expedition in 1095. After that, neither says anything about
Norman affairs till the agreement of 1096, though both of
them imply (see below, p. 555) that the war lasted till that
time.
[1284] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 241.
[1285] Ord. Vit. 706 C. See Appendix P.
[1286] Ord. Vit. ib. See above, p. 217.
[1287] This is one of Orderic’s best stories (706 C, D). A
false tale of its lord’s death is brought to Saint Cenery.
His allies, Pagan of Montdoubleau (see above, p. 209) and
Rotrou of Montfort, at once forsake the castle which they
had been defending. Robert’s wife Radegund cannot get them
to wait till more certain news can be had. Robert of Bellême
comes just in time for dinner. “Ingressi castrum, lebetes
super ignes ferventes invenerunt carnibus plenas, et mensas
mappulis coopertas et escas cum pane super appositas.” He
spoils and burns the castle. Robert son of Geroy is left
homeless; his wife (“proba femina et honesta”) dies; his
little son William, whom Robert of Bellême somehow has as a
hostage, is poisoned; he then defends his new castle of
Montacute against Robert of Bellême. Robert of Bellême
brings Duke Robert to besiege him. Peace is made by the
mediation of Geoffrey of Mayenne; Montacute is destroyed,
and Saint Cenery is restored to Robert son of Geroy.
[1288] Chron. Petrib. 1094. “Her onmang þison se cyng W.
sende æfter his broðer Hennrige se wæs on þam castele æt
Damfront, ac forþi þe he mid friðe þurh Normandig faran ne
mihte, he him sende scipon æfter, and Hugo eorl of Ceastre.”
[1289] Chron. Petrib. 1094. “Ac þa þa hi towardes Oú faran
sceoldan þær se cyng wæs, hi foran to Englelande and úp
coman æt Hamtune on ealra halgena mæsse æfne, and her syððon
wunedon, and to X[~p]es mæssan wæron on Lunden.”
[1290] Ib. 1095. “On þisum geare wæs se cyng Willelm to
X[~p]es mæssan þa feower forewarde dagas on Hwitsand; and
æfter þam feorðan dæge hider to lande fór, and úpp com æt
Doferan.”
[1291] Ib. “And Heanrig þes cynges broðer her on lande oð
Lengten wunode, and þa ofer sæ for to Normandig mid mycclon
gersuman, on þæs cynges heldan, uppon heora broðer Rodbeard
eorl, and gelomlice uppon þone eorl wann, and him mycelne
hearm ægðer on lande and on mannan dyde.”
[1292] Ord. Vit. 722 D. “Rodbertus mollis dux a vigore
priorum decidit, et pigritia mollitieque torpuit, plus
provinciales subditos timens quam ab illis timebatur.”
[1293] Ib. “Henricus frater ducis Danfrontem fortissimum
castrum possidebat, et magnam partem Neustriæ sibi favore
vel armis subegerat.”
[1294] Ib. “Fratri suo ad libitum suum, nec aliter,
obsecundabat.” I do not see what is meant in Sigebert’s
Chronicle under 1095 (Pertz, vi. 367); “Rex Anglorum a
fratribus sollicitatur in Normania et Anglia.”
[1295] Ib. “Porro alius frater qui Angliæ diadema gerebat in
Normannia, ut reor, plusquam xx. castra tenebat, et proceres
oppidanosque potentes muneribus sibi vel terroribus
illexerat…. Perplures cum omnibus sibi subditis munitionibus
et oppidanis regi parebant, eique, _quia metuendus erat_,
totis nisibus adhærebant.”
[1296] He appears in Orderic’s list, 722 D.
[1297] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 129.
[1298] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 288.
[1299] Ord. Vit. 708 C. He makes the remark just before, “In
diebus illis antiqui optimates qui sub Roberto duce vel
filio ejus Guillelmo rege militaverant humanæ conditionis
more hominem exuerunt.”
[1300] Ord. Vit. 708 C. See N. C. vol. iv. p. 498.
[1301] See above, p. 57. We shall come across his fuller
picture in a later chapter.
[1302] Ord. Vit. 718 D. He adds the epitaph of his own
making.
[1303] He records his death and adds his epitaph, 809 C, D.
William of Breteuil and Ralph of Conches died the same year,
1102.
[1304] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 465.
[1305] Ord. Vit. 723 A. “Sic Normannia suis in se filiis
furentibus miserabiliter turbata est, et plebs inermis sine
patrono desolata est.”
[1306] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 25. “Ipse quidem in Normanniam
transiit, expensaque immensa pecunia eam sibi nullatenus
subigere potuit. Infecto itaque negotio in Angliam reversus
est.”
[1307] Will. Malms. iv. 327. “Septimo anno, propter tributa
quæ rex in Normannia positus edixerat, agricultura defecit,
qua fatiscente, fames e vestigio, ea quoque invalescente,
mortalitas hominum subsecuta, adeo crebra ut deesset
morituris cura, mortuis sepultura.” This is copied by the
Margam annalist.
[1308] Flor. Wig. 1094. “Post hæc rex Willelmus iv. kal.
Januarii Angliam rediit, et ut Walanos debellaret, mox
exercitum in Waloniam duxit, ibique homines et equos
perdidit multos.” I am not at all clear that this entry in
Florence is not a confusion. The Chronicle under the same
year records the return of the King, and directly after sums
up the Welsh warfare of the year; but it is not implied that
the King took any part in it. He could not have done so
before his return from Normandy, and, to say nothing of the
unlikelihood of a winter campaign in itself, the incidental
notices of the King’s movements hardly leave time for one.
[1309] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 9. Eadmer writes the name
_Illingham_, a change which might easily have happened after
the pattern of _Ilchester_ (see above, p. 63) and _Islip_
(see N. C. vol. ii. p. 15), but the _g_ remains in use to
this day. There is something very amusing in the note of
Henschenius reprinted in Migne’s edition of Eadmer and
Anselm, col. 394;
“Alia plura dominia, ut _Rochingeham_, _Ilingeham_,
_Sæftesburia_, quæ jam ante occurrerunt, et plura secutura,
potuissent designato locorum situ explicari, si operæ
pretium visum esset eorum causa totas Anglici regni tabulas
perlustrare, et esset qui exsoleta jam nomina, ubi
requirenda sint, indicaret. Poterit postea curiosior aliquis
hunc defectum supplere.”
Fancy a man reading his Eadmer, and not making the faintest
effort to find out where any place was. But perhaps this is
better than M. Croset-Mouchet, who always turns the Bishop
of Exeter into a Bishop of _Oxford_ (cf. N. C. vol. iv. p.
779), and who has a place _Srewsbury_, which does duty alike
for the earldom of _Shrewsbury_ and for the bishopric of
_Salisbury_.
[1310] So say the Margam Annals, 1095; “Commotio fuit
stellarum, et obiit Wlstanus Wigorniensis episcopus.” But
unluckily it appears from Florence that the stars did not
shoot till April 4. Still it is edifying to mark the
different results of the death of a saintly and of a worldly
bishop. The next entry is, “Moritur Willelmus episcopus
Dunelmensis, et hic commotio hominum.” According to Hugh of
Flavigny (Pertz, viii. 474) the stars paid regard to the
death of an abbot who in no way concerns us; “Stellæ de cœlo
cadere visæ sunt, et eadem nocte Gyraldus abbas Silvæ
majoris [in the diocese of Bourdeaux] migravit ad Dominum.”
Sigebert’s Chronicle (Pertz, vi. 367) has some curious
physical details.
[1311] See above, p. 297.
[1312] The story is told by William of Malmesbury, Vit.
Wlst. Angl. Sacr. ii. 266. “Præmonuerat ministros velle se
ad illud pascha convivari accuratis epulis cum bonis
hominibus.” He then brings the poor people into the hall and
“præcepit inter eos sedili locato epulas sibi apponi.”
[1313] The steward’s doctrine is “competentius esse, ut
episcopus convivaretur cum paucis divitibus quam cum multis
pauperibus.” The bishop makes his scriptural quotation, and
adds, “illis debere serviri, qui non haberent unde
redderent.” He then winds up, “Lætius se videre istum
consessum, quam si, ut sæpe, consedisset regi Anglorum.” One
would like to have Wulfstan’s English. We must remember that
Wulfstan was commonly surrounded at dinner by a knightly
following. Vit. Wlst. 259. “Excepto si quando cum monachis
reficeretur, semper in regia considentibus militibus palam
convivabatur.”
[1314] Vit. Wlst. 266. “Multo eum suspiciebat rex honore,
multo proceres; ut qui sæpe ipsum ascirent convivio, et
assurgerent ejus consilio.” Then follows the list of his
foreign admirers, but it is only of the Irish kings that we
read that “magnis eum venerabantur favoribus.” Malcolm and
Margaret “ipsius se dedebant orationibus;” the foreign
prelates “epistolis quæ adhuc supersunt ejus ambierunt apud
Deum suffragia.”
[1315] See above, p. 312.
[1316] Vit. Wlst. 267. “Humanorum excessum [had he given in
a little too much to foreign ways?] confessione facta, etiam
disciplinam accepit. Ita vocant monachi virgarum flagra, quæ
tergo nudato cædentis infligit acrimonia.”
[1317] Serlo we have heard of before; see N. C. vol. iv. p.
383. Of Tewkesbury I shall have to speak below, and see N.
C. vol. v. pp. 628, 629.
[1318] Vit. Wlst. 267. “Magis sedens quam jacens, aures
psalmis, oculos altari applicabat, sedili sic composito ut
libere cerneret quicquid in capella fieret.” That is, there
was a _squint_ between his bed-room and the chapel, a not
uncommon arrangement, one of the best instances of which is
to be seen in Beverstone Castle, in Wulfstan’s diocese,
though of a date long after Godwine’s days and his. This use
of the squint is only one of several ways for enabling the
inmates, whether of houses, hospitals, or monastic
infirmaries, to hear mass without going out of doors.
[1319] The vision is recorded by William of Malmesbury in
the life of Wulfstan (268), where he says that Bishop Robert
was “in curia regis,” and adds that he was “homo sæculi
quidem fretus prudentia, sed nulla solutus illecebra.”
Florence says that Robert was “in oppido quod Criccelad
vocatur.” The inference is that the King was at Cricklade.
Cricklade does not appear among the King’s lordships in
Wiltshire; but both he (Domesday, 65) and other lords had
burgesses there, and there is an entry in 64 _b_ about the
third penny, which brought in five pounds yearly.
In the Gesta Pontificum William of Malmesbury does not
mention the vision; but he brings Bishop Robert to Worcester
to bury Wulfstan without any such call. There is surely
something a little heathenish in his description of the
bishop’s body lying in “Libitina ante altare.”
[1320] Gest. Pont. 289. “Profecto, si facilitas antiquorum
hominum adjuvaret, jamdudum elatus in altum sanctus
predicaretur, sed nostrorum incredulitas, quæ se cautelæ
umbraculo exornat, non vult miraculis adhibere fidem etiamsi
conspicetur oculo, etiamsi palpat digito.” Yet, though he
says that prayers offered at Wulfstan’s tomb were always
answered, yet he says nothing about miracles being wrought
there (unless we count the wonderful preservation of the
tomb itself during a fire), and not much of miracles done
during his lifetime. There is more in the Life.
[1321] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 25. “Quem consistentem in quadam
villa quæ tribus miliariis a Sceftesberia distans Ilingeham
vocatur Anselmus adiit.” See above, p. 477. By what follows
this must have been some time in February.
[1322] See above, p. 414.
[1323] See N. C. vol. ii. pp. 122, 462, and Hook,
Archbishops, i. 27, 270.
[1324] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 353.
[1325] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 441.
[1326] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 25. “Eique suam voluntatem in hoc
esse innotuit, ut Romanum pontificem pro pallii sui
petitione adiret. Ad quod rex, A quo inquit papa illud
requirere cupis?”
[1327] Ib. “Quicunque sibi hujus dignitatis potestatem
vellet præripere, unum foret ac si coronam suam sibi
conaretur auferre.”
[1338] Ib. “Iræ stimulis exagitatus, protestatus est illum
nequaquam fidem quam sibi debebat simul et apostolicæ sedis
obedientiam, contra suam voluntatem, posse servare.”
[1329] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 26. “Petivit inducias ad istius
rei examinationem quatenus episcopis, abbatibus, cunctisque
regni principibus, una coëuntibus communi assensu
definiretur, utrum salva reverentia et obedientia sedis
apostolicæ posset fidem terreno regi servare, annon.” These
words must be specially attended to, as they contain the
whole root of the matter with regard to the council of
Rockingham. The word “indutiæ” is rather hard to translate.
It means an adjournment, but something more than an
adjournment. The word “truce,” commonly used to express it,
is rather too strong; yet it is sometimes hard to avoid it.
[1330] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 26. “Quod si probatum, inquit,
fuerit, utrumque fieri minime posse, fateor malo terram
tuam, donec apostolicum suscipias, exeundo devitare, quam
beati Petri ejusque vicarii obedientiam vel ad horam
abnegare.”
[1331] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 435.
[1332] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 224.
[1333] Domesday, 220. “Rex tenet Rochingeham…. Hanc terram
tenuit Bovi cum saca et soca T. R. E. Wasta erat quando rex
W. jussit ibi castellum fieri.” On Rockingham Castle, see
Mr. G. T. Clark, Archæological Journal, xxxv. 209.
[1334] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 26. “Fit conventus omnium dominico
die, in ecclesia quæ est in ipso castro sita, ab hora prima,
rege et suis secretius in Anselmum consilia sua studiose
texentibus.”
[1335] “Anselmus autem, episcopis, abbatibus, et
principibus, ad se a regio secreto vocatis, eos et
assistentem monachorum, clericorum, laicorum, numerosam
multitudinem hac voce alloquitur.”
[1336] See above, p. 480, for somewhat similar arrangements.
But the present hall of Rockingham, dating from the
thirteenth century, is divided by the width of the court
from what seems to be the site of the chapel.
[1337] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 26. “Fateor verum dico, quia salva
reverentia voluntatis Dei maluissem illa die, si optio mihi
daretur, in ardentem rogum comburendus præcipitari, quam
archiepiscopatus dignitate sublimari.”
[1338] “Rapuistis me, et coegistis onus omnium suscipere,
qui corporis imbecillitate defessus meipsum vix poteram
ferre … attamen videns importunam voluntatem vestram,
credidi me vobis, et suscepi onus quod imposuistis, confisus
spe auxilii vestri quod polliciti estis. Nunc ergo, ecce
tempus adest quo sese causa obtulit, ut onus meum consilii
vestri manu levetis.”
[1339] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 27. “Si, remota omni alia
conditione, simpliciter ad voluntatem domini nostri regis
consilii tui summam transferre velles, prompta tibi
voluntate, ut nobis ipsis, consuleremus.”
[1340] “In medio procerum et conglobatæ multitudinis
_sedens_.” Judges and bishops can still deliver charges
sitting; but it would seem hard to carry on a debate in that
posture.
[1341] “Si pure ad voluntatem domini regis consilii tui
summam transferre volueris, promptum, et quod in nobis ipsis
utile didicimus, a nobis consilium certum habebis. Si autem
secundum Deum, quod ullatenus voluntati regis obviare
possit, consilium a nobis expectas, frustra niteris; quia in
hujusmodi nunquam tibi nos adminiculari videbis.”
[1342] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 27. “Quibus dictis conticuerunt,
et capita sua quasi ad ea quæ ipse illaturus erat
demiserunt.”
[1343] “Tunc pater Anselmus, erectis in altum luminibus,
vivido vultu, reverenda voce, ista locutus est.”
[1344] “Nos qui Christianæ plebis pastores, et vos qui
populorum principes vocamini.”
[1345] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 27. “Non cuilibet imperatori, non
alicui regi, non duci, non comiti.” I have ventured to
prefer the climax to the anti-climax.
[1346] See above, p. 104.
[1347] See above, p. 95.
[1348] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 27. “Turbationem suam confusis
vocibus exprimentes, ut eos illum esse reum mortis una
clamare putares.” The reference seems to be to St. Matthew’s
Gospel, xxvi. 66.
[1349] See N. C. vol. iii. p. 295. Only the groups at
Lillebonne seem to have been larger than those at
Rockingham.
[1350] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 28. “Hic duo, ibi tres, illic
quatuor, in unum consiliabantur, studiosissime disquirentes,
si quo modo possent aliquod responsum contra hæc componere,
quod et regiam animositatem deliniret et prælibatas
sententias Dei adversa fronte non impugnaret.”
[1351] “Adversariis ejus conciliabula sua in longum
protelantibus, ipse ad parietem se reclinans leni somno
quiescebat.”
[1352] “Vult dominus noster rex, omissis aliis verbis, a te
sub celeritate sententiam audire.”
[1353] “Hæc rogamus, hæc consulimus, hæc tibi tuisque
necessaria esse dicimus et confirmamus.”
[1354] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 28. “Noveris totum regnum conqueri
adversum te quod nostro communi domino conaris decus imperii
sui, coronam, auferre. Quicumque enim regiæ dignitatis ei
consuetudines tollit, coronam simul et regnum tollit.”
[1355] “Urbani illius, qui offenso domino rege nil tibi
prodesse nec ipso pacato tibi quicquam valet obesse,
obedientiam abjice, subjectionis jugum excute, et _liber_,
ut archiepiscopum Cantuariensem decet, in cunctis actibus
tuis voluntatem domini regis et jussionem expecta.” What
more could Henry the Eighth have asked of Cranmer?
[1356] “Quatenus inimici tui qui casibus tuis nunc
insultant, visa dignitatis tuæ sublevatione, erubescant.”
[1357] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 28. “Respondeam quod Deus
inspirare dignabitur.”
[1358] “Suspicati ilium aut quid diceret ultra nescire aut
metu addictum statim cœpto desistere.”
[1359] “Persuaserunt inducias nulla ratione dandas, sed
causa recenti examinatione discussa, supremam, si suis
adquiescere consiliis nollet, in eum judicii sententiam
invehi juberet.”
[1360] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 28. “Erat quasi primus et
prolocutor regis in hoc negotio Willelmus supra nominatus
Dunelmensis episcopus, homo linguæ volubilitate facetus quam
pura sapientia præditus. Hujus quoque discidii quod inter
regem et Anselmum versabatur erat auctor gravis et
incentor.”
[1361] “Omni ingenio satagebat, si quo modo Anselmum
calumniosis objectionibus fatigatum regno eliminaret, ratus,
ut dicebatur, ipso discedente, se archiepiscopatus solio
sublimandum.”
[1362] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 28. “Nec regia dignitate integre
se potitum suspicabatur, quamdiu aliquis in tota terra, vel
etiam secundum Deum, nisi per eum quicquam habere (not dico)
vel posse dicebatur.”
[1363] “Spoponderat se facturum ut Anselmus aut Romani
pontificis funditus obedientiam abnegaret, aut
archiepiscopatui, reddito baculo et annulo, abrenunciaret.”
[1364] Ib. 29. “Dicit quod quantum tua interest eum sua
dignitate spoliasti; dum Odonem episcopum Ostiensem sine sui
auctoritate præcepti papam in sua Anglia facis.”
[1365] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 29. “Revesti eum primo, si placet,
_debita imperii sui dignitate_, et tunc demum de induciis
age.”
[1366] “Nec jocum existimes esse quod agitur; immo in istis
magni doloris stimulis urgemur.”
[1367] “Quod dominus tuus et noster in omni dominatione sua
præcipuum habebat, et quo eum _cunctis regibus præstare_
certum erat.”
[1368] See Appendix F.
[1369] We shall come to these matters in the next chapter.
[1370] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 29. “Aspicientes sese ad invicem,
nec invenientes quid ad ista referrent, ad dominum suum
reversi sunt.”
[1371] “Protinus intellexerunt quod prius non
animadverterunt, nec ipsum advertere posse putaverunt,
videlicet archiepiscopum Cantuariensem a nullo hominum, nisi
a solo papa, judicari posse vel damnari, nec ab aliquo cogi
pro quavis calumnia cuiquam, eo excepto, contra suum velle
respondere.”
[1372] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 29. “Ortum interea murmur est
totius multitudinis pro injuria tanti viri summissa inter se
voce querentis. Nemo quippe palam pro eo loqui audebat ob
metum tyranni.” We have had the word “tyrannis” already; see
above, p. 397.
[1373] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 29. “Miles unus de multitudine
prodiens viro adstitit flexis coram eo genibus.”
[1374] “Confidentes juxta scripturam, vocem populi vocem
esse Dei.” “Scriptura” must here be taken in some wide
sense; Eadmer could hardly have thought that these words
were to be found in any of the canonical books.
[1375] “Ad divisionem spiritus sui exacerbatus.”
[1376] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 29. “Dunelmensis ita inprimis
tepide et silenter per singula loquebatur, ut omnis humanæ
prudentiæ inscius et expers putaretur.”
[1377] “Cogitabimus pro te usque ad mane.”
[1378] “Mane reversi sedimus in solito loco exspectantes
mandatum regis. At ille cum suis omnimodo perquirebat quid
in damnationem Anselmi componere posset, nec inveniebat.”
[1379] “Requisitus Willielmus Dunelmensis quid ipse, ex
condicto, noctu egerit apud se.”
[1380] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 29. “Verum mihi violentia videtur
opprimendus, et, si regiæ voluntati non vult adquiescere,
ablato baculo et annulo, de regno pellendus. Non placuerunt
hæc verba principibus.”
[1381] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 30. “Per vultum Dei si vos illum
ad voluntatem meam non damnaveritis, ego damnabo vos.” The
oath “per vultum Dei” is the same as that “per vultum de
Luca.” See Appendix G.
[1382] “Robertus quidam ipsi regi valde familiaris” would
seem to be no other than the Count of Meulan. We shall hear
of him by name later in the story. It might be Robert the
_Dispenser_ (see above, p. 331), but that seems much less
likely.
[1383] “De consiliis nostris quid dicam, fateor nescio. Nam
cum omni studio per totum diem inter nos illa conferimus, et
quatenus aliquo modo sibi cohereant conferendo conferimus,
ipse, nihil mali e contra cogitans, dormit, et prolata coram
eo statim uno labiorum suorum pulsu quasi telas araneæ
rumpit.”
[1384] “Primas est, non modo istius regni, sed et Scotiæ et
Hiberniæ, necne adjacentium insularum, nosque suffraganei
ejus.” We have had one or two other cases, in which, in
Eadmer’s language at least, the Archbishop of York is spoken
of as the suffragan of Canterbury.
[1385] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 30. “Properate igitur, et quod
dicitis citius facite, ut cum viderit se a cunctis despectum
et desolatum, verecundetur, et ingemiscat se Urbanum me
domino suo contempto secutum.”
[1386] “Et quo ista securius faciatis, en ego primum in
imperio meo penitus ei omnem securitatem et fiduciam mei
tollo, ac deinceps in illo vel de illo nulla in causa
confidere, vel eum pro archiepiscopo aut patre spirituali
tenere volo.”
[1387] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 30. “Paterno more diligentiam,
animæ illius curam, si ferre dignabitur, habebo.”
[1388] “Ad hæc ille respondit,” says Eadmer; but it can only
mean an answer through messengers, as it is plain that the
King and the Archbishop were still in different rooms.
[1389] “Omnino adversatur animo meo quod dicit, nec meus
erit, quisquis ipsius esse delegerit.”
[1390] The answer of the lay lords must be taken as a formal
setting forth of their position; one would be glad to know
whose are the actual sentiments and words. It runs thus
(Eadmer, 30);
“Nos nunquam fuimus homines ejus, nec fidelitatem quam ei
non fecimus abjurare valemus. Archiepiscopus noster est;
Christianitatem in hac terra gubernare habet, et ea re nos
qui Christiani sumus ejus magisterium, dum hic vivimus,
declinare non possumus, præsertim cum nullius offensæ macula
illum respiciat, quæ vos secus de illo agere compellat.”
[1391] “Quod ipse repressa sustinuit ira, rationi eorum
palam ne nimis offenderentur contraire præcavens.” This is
perhaps a solitary case of recorded self-restraint on the
part of William Rufus, at all events since the death of
Lanfranc. It is significant that it should be in answer to
the lay lords and not to the bishops.
[1392] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 30. “Episcopi hæc videntes,
confusione vultus sui operti sunt, intelligentes omnium
oculos in se converti, et apostasiam suam non injuste a
cunctis detestari.” It must be remembered that _apostasia_
is a technical term, meaning, besides its usual sense, a
forsaking of his monastic vows and calling by a professed
monk. Eadmer speaks of the bishops as guilty of a like
offence towards their metropolitan.
[1393] The picture is very graphic; “Audires si adesses,
nunc ab isto, nunc ab illo istum vel illum episcopum aliquo
cognomine cum interjectione indignantis denotari, videlicet
Judæ proditoris, Pilati, vel Herodis horumque similium.” One
of the bishops had been likened to Judas some years before
on somewhat opposite grounds.
[1394] “Requisiti a rege, utrum omnem subjectionem et
obedientiam, nulla conditione interposita, an illam solam
subjectionem et obedientiam, quam prætenderet ex autoritate
Romani pontificis, Anselmo denegassent.”
[1395] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 31. “Hos quidem qui, nulla
conditione interposita, funditus ei quicquid prælato suo
debebant se abjurasse professi sunt, juxta se sicut fideles
et amicos suos honorifice sedere præcepit.”
[1396] “Illos vero qui in hoc solo quod præciperet ex parte
apostolici sese subjectionem et obedientiam illi abnegasse
dicere ausi sunt, ut perfidos ac suæ voluntatis inimicos,
procul in angulo domus sententiam suæ damnationis ira
permotus jussit præstolari. Territi ergo et confusione super
confusionem induti, in angulum domus secesserunt,”
[1397] “Reperto statim salubri et quo niti solebant
domestico consilio, hoc est, data copiosa pecunia, in
amicitiam regis recepti sunt.”
All this suggests the question, what was the course taken by
Gundulf of Rochester, Anselm’s old friend, and the holder of
a bishopric which stood in a specially close relation to the
archbishop. In the Historia Novorum there is no mention of
Gundulf; the bishops are spoken of as an united body, except
so far as they were divided on this last question. But it
seems implied that all disowned Anselm in one way or
another. Yet in the Life (ii. 3. 24) the bishops disown him,
“Rofensi solo excepto.” How are these accounts to be
reconciled? If Gundulf had stood out in any marked way from
the rest, Eadmer would surely have mentioned him in the
Historia Novorum. One might suppose that the Bishop of
Rochester, as holding of the Archbishop, was not in the
company of the King’s bishops at all. But, if he had stayed
outside with Anselm and Eadmer, one would have looked for
that to be mentioned also. He can hardly lurk in the first
person plural which Eadmer so often uses.
[1398] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 31. “Donec Deus tantæ
perturbationi modum dignanter imponeret.”
[1399] “Licet discessum ejus summopere desideraret, nolebat
tamen eum pontificatus dignitate _saisitum_ discedere, ne
novissimum scandalum quod inde poterat oriri pejus fieret
priore. Ut vero pontificatu illum _dissaisiret_, impossibile
sibi videbatur.” The feudal language creeps in at all
corners.
[1400] “Episcoporum consilio per quod in has angustias se
devolutum querebatur omisso, cum principibus consilium
iniit.”
[1401] “Quatenus vir cum summa pace moneatur ad hospitium
suum redire.”
[1402] “Perturbatis etiam curialibus plurimis … rati sunt
quippe hominem a terra discedere, et ingemuerunt.”
[1403] “Lætus et alacer sperabat se perturbationes et onera
sæculi, quod semper optabat, transito mari, evadere.”
[1404] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 31. “Ecce principes _a latere
regis_ mane directi”――the style of Emperors and Popes.
[1405] “Ascendimus, inimus, et supremam de negotio nostro
sententiam avidi audire, in quo soliti eramus loco
consedimus.” The word “ascendimus” might show that Anselm’s
lodgings were at some point lower than the castle.
[1406] “Inducias utrimque de negotio dari quatenus hinc
usque ad definitum aliquod tempus inter vos pace statuta.”
[1407] “Pacem atque concordiam non abjicio; veruntamen
videor mihi videre quid ista quam offertis pax habeat in
se.”
[1408] “Concedo suscipere quod domino regi et vobis placet
pro pacis custodia _secundum Deum_ statuere”――Anselm’s
invariable reservation.
[1409] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 31. “Dantur induciæ usque ad
octavas Pentecostes, ac _regia fide_ sancitur, quatenus ex
utraque parte interim omnia essent in pace.”
[1410] “Præsciens apud se pacem et inducias illas inane et
momentaneum velamen esse odii et oppressionis mox futuræ.”
[1411] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 31. “Baldwinum monachum, _in quo
pars major_ consiliorum Anselmi pendebat.”
[1412] “Præscripti discidii causa.”
[1413] “Quid referam camerarium ejus in sua camera ante suos
oculos captum, alios homines ejus injusto judicio
condemnatos, deprædatos, innumeris malis afflictos?” All
this was “infra dies induciarum et præfixæ pacis.” Eadmer
reproaches the “regalis constantia fidei.” Rufus would have
said that his faith was plighted to Anselm, not to Baldwin.
[1414] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 32. “Ut fere universi conclamarent
melius sibi absque pastore jam olim fuisse quam nunc sub
hujusmodi pastore esse.”
[1415] The movements of Urban at this time will be found in
the Chronicle of Bernold in the fifth volume of Pertz, p.
461. Cf. Milman, Latin Christianity, iii. 215.
[1416] Bernold, ib. “Henricus autem rex dictus eo tempore in
Longobardia morabatur, pene omni regia dignitate privatus.
Nam filius ejus Chonradus, jam dudum in regem coronatus, se
ab illo penitus separavit, et domnæ Mathildi reliquisque
fidelibus sancti Petri firmiter conjunctus totum robur
paterni exercitus in Longobardia obtinuit.”
[1417] Ib. “Ad quam sinodum multitudo tam innumerabilis
confluxit, ut nequaquam in qualibet ecclesia illius loci
posset comprehendi. Unde et domnus papa extra urbem in campo
illam celebrare compulsus est; nec hoc tamen absque
probabilis exempli auctoritate.” He justifies the act by the
example of Moses; in England Godwine and William might have
been precedents enough.
[1418] See N. C. vol. ii. p. 230.
[1419] The matters discussed are reckoned up by Bernold,
u. s.
[1420] See above, p. 415.
[1421] So speaks our own Chronicler the next year. See
above, p. 415.
[1422] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 32. “Siquidem ipse rex, ubi sensit
Anselmum suæ voluntatis in præscripto negotio nolle
obtemperare, clam et Anselmo ignorante, eosdem clericos
[Girardum et Willielmum] Romam miserat, Romanæ statum
ecclesiæ per eos volens certo dinoscere.”
[1423] Bernold (Pertz, v. 461) gives the details. The part
which most concerns us is that the King and future Emperor
is received only “salva justitia illius [Romanæ] ecclesiæ,
et statutis apostolicis, maxime de investituris in
spiritalibus officiis a laico non usurpandis.”
[1424] Bernold merely glances at this matter. It will be
found described more at length in the hexameters of Donizo,
ii. 9, Muratori, v. 374; and in the prose life of Matilda,
13, Muratori, v. 395.
[1425] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 32. “Scire veritatem hujus rei
Romam missi sunt hii duo clerici, eaque cognita, jussi sunt
sacris promissionibus illectum ad hoc si possent papam
perducere, ut ipsi regi ad opus archiepiscopi Cantuariensis
pallium, tacita persona Anselmi, destinaret, quod ipse rex,
Anselmo a pontificatu simul et regno dejecto, cui vellet cum
pontificatu vice apostolici postmodum daret.” The formal
grant of the hereditary legation to Count Roger comes
somewhat later, being given by Urban himself in 1099. (See
William of Malaterra, iv. 29, Muratori, v. 602.) But the
language used seems to imply that some such power
practically existed already.
[1426] Ep. S. Thom, ad Cardinales, Giles, S. T. C. iii. 93.
“Eo jam perventum est ut sequatur rex noster etiam Siculos,
immo certe præcedat.” On the question of the legatine power
supposed to have been granted, or designed to be granted, to
Henry the Second, see J. C. Robertson, Becket, 106. For my
purpose the general belief that something of the kind was
done or designed is enough.
[1427] Bernold, ap. Pertz, v. 461.
[1428] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 32. “Hoc quippe disposuerat apud
se; hoc suspicatus est non injuria sibi concedi posse, hoc
indubitato fieri promittebat opinioni suæ.”
[1429] Chron. Petrib. 1095. “Eac on þis ylcan geare togeanes
Eastron com þæs papan _sande_ hider to lande, þæt wæs
Waltear bisceop swiðe god lifes man, of Albin þære ceastre.”
The date is strange, as he did not and could not come till
after Easter.
[1430] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 32. “Præfatus episcopus Angliam
veniens, secum archiepiscopatus stolam papa mittente
clanculo detulit. Et silenter Cantuaria civitate
pertransita, Anselmoque devitato, ad regem properabat, nulli
de pallio quod ferebat quicquam dicens, nullum in absentia
ductorum suorum familiariter alloquens. Rex denique
præceperat ita fieri, nolens mysterium consilii sui
publicari.”
[1431] Ib. 33. “Sentiens rex episcopum ex parte Urbani
cuncta suæ voluntati coniventia nunciare, et ea, si ipsum
Urbanum pro papa in suo regno susciperet, velle apostolica
authoritate sibi dum viveret in privilegium promulgare,
adquievit placito.” This is put somewhat more distinctly in
the account by Hugh of Flavigny (Pertz, viii. 475, see
Appendix AA); “Conventionem fecerat cum eo [Willelmo]
Albanensis episcopus, quem primum illo miserat papa, ne
legatus Romanus ad Angliam mitteretur nisi quem rex
præciperet.”
[1432] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 32. “Nil penitus ipsi pro Anselmo
locutus est, quod pacem inter eos conciliaret, quod
tribulationes in quibus pro fidelitate sedis apostolice
desudabat mitigaret, quod eum ad sublevandum in Anglia
Christianæ religionis cultum roboraret.”
[1433] Ib. “Papæ, quid dicemus? Si aurum et argentum Roma
præponit justitiæ,” &c. It must be remembered that in this
sentence “Papæ” has nothing to do with “Papa.” See above, p.
292.
[1434] Ib. 33. “Præcipiens Urbanum _in omni imperio suo_ pro
apostolico haberi, eique vice beati Petri in Christiana
religione obediri.”
[1435] Ib. “Egit post hæc quibus modis poterat ipse rex cum
episcopo, quatenus Romani pontificis autoritate Anselmum ab
episcopatu, regali potentia fultus, deponeret, spondens
immensum pecuniæ pondus ei et ecclesiæ Romanæ singulis annis
daturum, si in hoc suo desiderio satisfaceret.”
[1436] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 33. “Reputans apud se nihil in
requisitione vel susceptione Romani antistitis se
profecisse.”
[1437] “Qualiter, servata singulari celsitudinis suæ
dignitate, viro saltem specie tenus amorem suum redderet,
cui crudeliter iratus nihil poterat cupitæ damnationis pro
voto inferre.”
[1438] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 33. “Ad eum venire et verba regis
illi et illius possent regi deferre.”
[1439] “Dixi vobis jam, quod nunquam domino meo hanc
contumeliam faciam ut facto probem amicitiam ejus esse
venalem.”
[1440] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 33. “Dominus papa Urbanus, rogatu
domini nostri regis, stolam illi archiepiscopatus per
episcopum qui de Roma venit direxit.” The pallium, they
said, was sent to the King, but the words which follow show
that they wished it to be understood that it was meant for
Anselm.
[1441] “Tuum igitur erit considerare quid tanto beneficio
dignum regi rependas.”
[1442] “Laudamus et consulimus ut saltem quod in via
expenderes si pro hoc Romam ires regi des, ne si nihil
feceris injurius judiceris.” They enlarge also on the
dangers of the way; these had certainly proved fatal to some
of Anselm’s predecessors.
[1443] “Principum suorum consilio usus.”
[1444] This is not mentioned now, but it comes out
afterwards; Hist. Nov. 39. See below, p. 588.
[1445] Ib. 39. “Scio quippe me [Anselmum] spopondisse
consuetudines tuas, ipsas videlicet quas per rectitudinem et
secundum Deum in regno tuo possides, me secundum Deum
servaturum, et eas per justitiam contra omnes homines pro
meo posse defensurum.”
[1446] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 33. “Cum curiæ illius apud
Windlesorum se præsentasset et familiari alloquio in
conspectu procerum et coadunatæ multitudinis ipsum
detinuisset.”
[1447] “Ut pro regiæ majestatis honorificentia, illud per
manum regis susciperet.”
[1448] “Rationabiliter ostendens hoc donum non ad regiam
dignitatem, sed ad singularem beati Petri pertinere
auctoritatem.”
[1449] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 34. “Quasi de manu beati Petri,
pro summi quo fungebatur pontificatus honore, sumeretur.”
[1450] “Adquievit istis multitudo omnis.”
[1451] “Pœnitentiam apud illum agentes pro culpa suæ
abnegationis, quam cum aliis coepiscopis suis fecerant apud
Rochingeham.”
[1452] William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 302) has two
appearances of Saint Wulfstan to Robert; but both come
before Wulfstan’s burial. The one here meant is recorded by
Florence (1095). Robert was, according to the Worcester
writer, “vir magnæ religionis,” and we have a pleasing
picture of “ambo patres nimia caritate in Dei dilectione et
ad se invicem conjuncti.” In the Life of Wulfstan (Ang. Sac.
i. 268) the Bishop of Hereford is “homo seculi quidem fretus
prudentia, sed nulla solutus illecebra.”
[1453] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 34. “Ibi etiam Wilfrido episcopo
sancti David de Gualis quæ vulgo Dewi vocatur, ipsa hora
reddidit episcopale officium, a quo, exigente culpa ejus,
jam antea ipsemet illum suspenderat.” Was Wilfrith there in
person? We shall hear of him again.
[1454] Flor. Wig. 1095. “Pallium … quod juxta condictum die
dominica, quæ erat iv. idus Junii, ab eodem [Waltero]
Cantuariam super altare Salvatoris delatum, ab Anselmo
assumptum est, atque ab omnibus pro reverentia S. Petri
suppliciter deosculatum.” The details come from Eadmer; the
Chronicler tells only how Walter “þam arcebisceop Ansealme
uppon Pentecosten, of þæs papan healfe Urbanus, his pallium
geaf, and he hine underfeng æt his arcestole on
Cantwarabyrig.”
[1455] I hardly know what to make of the words of Hugh of
Flavigny (Pertz, viii. 475); “Adeo auctoritas Romana apud
Anglos avaritia et cupiditate legatorum viluerat, ut eodem
Albanense præsente et consentiente nec contradicente, immo
præcipiente, Cantuariensis archiepiscopus fidelitatem beato
Petro et papæ juraverat salva fidelitate domini sui regis.”
One cannot conceive any time during the Cardinal’s visit in
which Anselm could be called on to make any such oath either
to Pope or King except at the time of his receiving the
pallium; there may be some confusion with the promise
mentioned in p. 531.
[1456] This coincidence is noticed by Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 34.
[1457] Such is the pious belief of Florence; “Credi fas est,
ipsum qui prius de hoc sæculo ad Deum migravit
sollicitudinem egisse sui dilectissimi, quem in hoc sæculo
reliquit, et ut quam citius simul ante Deum gauderent operam
dedisse.”
[1458] Hugh of Flavigny, directly after the passage just
quoted (Pertz, viii. 475), goes on to say, “Quæ res in
tantum adoleverat, ut nullus ex parte papæ veniens honore
debito exciperetur, nullus esset in Anglia archiepiscopus,
episcopus, abbas, nedum monachus aut clericus, qui litteras
apostolicas suscipere auderet, nedum obedire, nisi rex
juberet.”
[1459] This is noticed by the Chronicler; “And se bisceop
Waltear has on lande þæs geares syððan lange wunode, and man
syððan þæt Romgesceot be him sende, swa man manegan gearan
æror ne dyde.”
[1460] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 430.
[1461] Epp. iii. 35. “Vestra prudentia non ignorat quia nos
duo nihil efficeremus, nisi regi suggestum esset, ut ejus
assensu et auxilio ad effectum perduceretur quod
disponeremus.” The military history which this letter
casually opens to us, and of which we have no mention
elsewhere, will come in the next chapter.
[1462] “Expecto reditum domini mei regis, et episcoporum et
principum qui cum eo sunt, quatenus illi quæ agenda sunt,
opportune et rationabiliter suggeramus.” So in the next
letter (Epp. iii. 36) he says more distinctly that he would
like to meet the Cardinal, “si congruo tempore factum esset,
id est quando dominus meus rex, et episcopi, et principes
hujus regni vobis præsentes aut propinqui erant.”
[1463] Epp. iii. 36. “Vos ab illis et ego a vobis
discessimus, veluti non nos in hac terra amplius invicem
visuri.”
[1464] Epp. iii. 35. See the next chapter.
[1465] Ib. “Rex ore suo mihi præcepit … et postquam
Cantuarberiam reddi mihi mandavit per litteras proprio
sigillo signatas.”
[1466] Ib. “Idcirco de Cantuaria exire non audeo, nisi in
illam partem ex qua hostium expectamus adventum.”
[1467] Ib. 36. “Quod quæritis a me cur et qua justitia
episcopi alii me abnegantes a me discesserunt, nec sunt
reversi dignam agentes pœnitentiam, hoc potius ab illis
quærendum erat quam a me.”
[1468] Ib. “Reversi hactenus sunt ut illam obedientiam quam
Cantuariensi sedi promiserant se mihi servaturos
faterentur.”
[1469] Epp. iii. 36. “Dicitis quosdam illorum vobis dixisse
ideo non offendisse in me, quia permisi me a catholica
ecclesia transferri ad schismaticos et ab illis consecrari,
si fieri, sicut additis, potest; et a schismatico rege
investituram accepisse, et illi fidelitatem et hominium
fecisse, quos omnes sciebam esse schismaticos et divisos ab
ecclesia Christi, et a capite meo Urbano pontifice, quem
ipsi, me audiente, abnegabant.”
[1470] Epp. iii. 36. “Illi non abnegabant canonicum Romanum
pontificem, quicunque esset, nec Urbanum negabant esse
pontificem; sed dubitabant propter illam quæ modo nata est
dissensionem, et propter dubitationem illum suscipere quasi
certum differebant; nec ullum judicium illos ab ecclesia
segregaverat, et omnino obedientiam Romanæ sedis tenere se
fatebantur et sub professione obedientiæ Romani pontificis
me consecrarunt.”
[1471] Ib. “Denique dominus papa sciebat me esse consecratum
et a quibus, et cui regi feceram quod feci. Et tamen pallium
quod archiepiscopus Cantuariæ solet habere, mihi per vestram
caritatem, non ut schismatico, sed ut accepto, non ut
reprobans, sed ut approbans misit, et sic quod de me factum
erat confirmavit.”
[1472] Ib. “Si vobis hæc calumnia attendenda videtur, cur
earn ante pallii concessionem mihi tacuistis? Si negligenda
putatur, vos judicate quam diligenter sit a vobis
inculcanda.”
[1473] Ib. “Rogatis me ut fratres nostros Cantuariensis
ecclesiæ quiete ac pacifice possidere dimittam res suas.”
[1474] Ib. “Nullus magis desiderat quietem ac pacem illorum
quam ego, nec magis sollicitus est pro utilitate ejusdem
ecclesiæ; et idcirco voluntas mea est ut res ejus, Deo
annuente, disponam ad utilitatem præsentem et futuram, prout
melius sciam et potero.”
[1475] This question is argued by Eadmer in the Life, ii. I.
9.
[1476] Ib. “Si Cantuariam assidue incoleret, homines sui ex
advectione victualium oppido gravarentur; et insuper a
præpositis, ut sæpe contingebat, multis ex causis oppressi,
si quem interpellarent, nunquam præsentem haberent, magis ac
magis oppressi in destructionem funditus irent.” Of the
doings of reeves of all kinds we have often heard. See
specially N. C. vol. iv. p. 616.
[1477] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 34.
[1478] This would seem to be the time when Anselm’s practice
of various virtues is so fully described by Eadmer in the
first and second chapters of the second book of the Life.
[1479] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 340. He appears in the Gesta
Pontificum, 289, as “Samson, canonicus Baiocensis, non parvæ
literaturæ vir nec contemnendæ facundiæ. Antiquorum homo
morum, ipse liberaliter vesci, et aliis dapsiliter largiri.”
But this last description is substituted for an amazing
account of his appetite, specially in the way of fowls and
swine’s flesh (cf. the account of King Æthelred in N. C.
vol. i. p. 658), and how he died of fat. He fed however
three hundred poor men daily.
[1480] His kindred to the elder and the younger Thomas
appears in the suppressed passage of William of Malmesbury.
Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 35) says of the two bishops-elect, “Qui
cum in summum promovendi sacerdotium ad Anselmum pro more
venissent, necdum omnes inferiores ordines habuissent,
ordinavit eos pro instanti necessitate, ad diaconatum et
presbyteratum unum, et alium ad presbyteratum.” The canon of
Bayeux would be more likely than the King’s clerk to have
the higher degree.
[1481] Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 290. But the first and
second versions are worth comparing. It has a curiously
modern sound when we read, “Quotiens Lundonia rediret,
aliquid pretiosum afferret, quod esset ornamento ecclesiæ.”
But it is a witness to the growing importance of London.
[1482] William of Malmesbury has a first and a second
edition (Gest. Pont. 259) in the case of Gerard also.
According to rumour, “multorum criminum et maxime libidini
obnoxius erat.” He was suspected of magic, from his constant
study of Julius Firmicus. According to Hugh of Flavigny
(Pertz, viii. 496), he sacrificed a pig to the devil, while
of his brother more wonderful things still were told. See
Pertz, viii. 496, and Appendix G.
[1483] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 35.
[1484] See above, p. 448, and Appendix X.
[1485] Eadmer gives the account of these Irish bishops
(Hist. Nov. 34, 36). Samuel is described as being “a rege
Hiberniæ Murierdach nomine, necne a clero et populo in
episcopatum ipsius civitatis electus est, atque ad Anselmum,
juxta morem antiquum, sacrandus cum communi decreto
directus.” Of King Muirchertach, whose name is written
endless ways, and whom it is well perhaps to shorten into
Murtagh, we shall hear again. He was King of Leinster, and
Bretwalda, so to speak, of all Ireland, though it seems that
he was not acknowledged always and everywhere. He signs the
letter to Anselm which appears in Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 36) on
behalf of Malchus, which professes to come from the “clerus
et populus oppidi Wataferdiæ, cum rege Murchertacho, et
episcopo Dofnaldo.” There are also two letters of Anselm to
him (Ep. iii. 142, 147), chiefly about ecclesiastical
reforms in Ireland. Anselm also speaks of a brother
Cornelius, whom the Irish king had asked for, but who could
not go, because he was taking care of his aged father. This
is one of those little personal touches which make us wish
to know more.
[1486] Orderic and William of Malmesbury stand conspicuous.
[1487] See the Chronicle, 1096. I quoted the passage in N.
C. vol. iv. p. 93.
[1488] Ib.
[1489] See N. C. vol. v. p. 356.
[1490] Ib. p. 93.
[1491] See above, p. 411.
[1492] Urban came from Rheims, but it is important to
remember how little entitled Auvergne was in that day to the
French name. This comes out oddly enough in an entry in the
Chronicle, 1102, when thieves of all parts seem to have
conspired to rob the minster of Peterborough; “Þa coman
þeofas sum of Aluearnie, sum of France, and sum of Flanders,
and breokan þæt mynstre of Burh.”
[1493] William of Malmesbury (iv. 344) draws a grievous
picture of the state of things among the “Cisalpini,” who
“ad hæc calamitatis omnes devenerant, ut nullis vel minimis
causis extantibus quisque alium caperet, nec nisi magno
redemptum abire sineret.” He then speaks at some length of
simony, and adds; “Tunc legitimis uxoribus exclusis, multi
contrahebant divortium, alienum expugnantes matrimonium;
quare, quia in his et illis erat confusa criminum silva, ad
pœnam quorundam potentiorum designata sunt nomina.”
[1494] The great provision of all is (Will. Malms. iv. 345),
“Quod ecclesia catholica sit in fide, casta, libera ab omni
servitute; ut episcopi, vel abbates, vel aliquis de clero,
aliquam ecclesiasticam dignitatem de manu principum vel
quorumlibet laicorum non accipiant.” This decree does not
appear among the acts of Piacenza in Bernold, 1095 (Pertz,
v. 462).
Among so many more stirring affairs, one decree of this
council, which has a good deal of interest, might easily be
forgotten. This is one which was meant to reform the abuses
of the privileges of sanctuary; “Qui ad ecclesiam vel ad
crucem confugerint, data membrorum impunitate, justitiæ
tradantur, vel innocentes liberentur.” Are we to see here
the first beginning of a feeling against mutilation, which
came in bit by bit in the next century? The guilty man is to
be punished, but in some other way than by loss of limb.
[1495] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 429.
[1496] Philip had professed all intention of coming to
Piacenza; he had even set out; “Se ad illam itiner
incepisse, sed legitimis soniis se impeditum fuisse
mandavit.” (Bernold, u. s.) He was allowed, like Anselm,
“indutiæ” till Whitsuntide; but now the decree went forth
(Will. Malms. iv. 345) against Philip himself; “Et omnes qui
eum vel regem vel dominum suum vocaverint, et ei obedierint,
et ei locuti fuerint nisi quod pertinet ad eum corrigendum.
Similiter et illam maledictam conjugem ejus, et omnes qui
eam reginam vel dominam nominaverint, quousque ad
emendationem venerint, ita ut alter ab altero discedat.”
[1497] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 696.
[1498] Ib. vol. iv. p. 648.
[1499] The marriage is recorded by Orderic (vii. 23 D).
There is a letter of Bishop Ivo of Chartres addressed to the
clergy of Meulan and to all persons within the archdeaconry
of Poissy. He denounces the intended marriage on the ground
of kindred, and bids them send the letter to the Count of
Meulan. The kindred is said to be “nec ignota, nec remota;”
but it consisted in this, that Robert and Isabel had a
common forefather removed by four degrees from Robert and
five from Isabel. Robert was thus, as we should have
expected, a generation older than his wife.
[1500] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 130, 166, 744.
[1501] See above, p. 269.
[1502] See above, p. 473.
[1503] Her second marriage with Drogo of Moncey is recorded
in Will. Gem. viii. 8. Drogo was a fellow crusader (Ord.
Vit. 723 D).
[1504] See Ord. Vit. 535 C, 724 C, 729 D, where we hear of
him before Nikaia.
[1505] This comes from Hugh of Flavigny, Pertz, viii. 474;
“Tunc temporis pro componenda inter fratres Willelmi regis
filios concordia, Willelmum videlicet regem Anglorum et
Robertum comitem Normannorum, abbas Divionensis ex præcepto
papæ mare transierat, et ut præscriptum regem ammoneret de
multis quæ illicite fiebant ab eo, de episcopatibus
videlicet et abbatiis quas sibi retinebat, nec eis pastores
providebat, et reditus proventusque omnium sibi assumebat,
de symonia, de fornicatione clericorum.”
[1506] Ib. “Qui veniens tanta libertate usus est, ut rex,
integritate ejus inspecta et inadulata mentis constantia, se
consiliis et votis ejus adquieturum promitteret, ut omnes
fideles gratularentur eum advenisse, ad cujus adventum quasi
respiraret et resurgeret decus et vigor ecclesiæ Anglicæ et
libertas Romanæ auctoritatis.”
[1507] Ib. “Sed quid imperturbatum relinquit inexplebilis
gurges Romanæ avaritiæ? Rex suspectam habens viri
auctoritatem, quem jam diu venturum audierat, legatum papæ
præmiserat, et in manu ejus auri probati et purissimi 10
marchas.”
[1508] See Appendix AA.
[1509] The accounts do not exactly agree; but every version
makes the terms such that the duchy was not ceded for ever,
but could under some circumstances be recovered. The
Chronicler puts it pithily, but without details; “Ðurh þas
fare [that is the crusade] wearð se cyng and his broðor
Rodbeard eorl sehte swa þæt se cyng ofer sæ fór, and eall
Normandig æt him mid feo alisde, swa swa hi þa sehte wæron.”
Florence calls the transaction “vadimonium,” and mentions
the price, 10,000 marks, or 6,666_l._ With this William of
Malmesbury agrees; Eadmer and Hugh of Flavigny make it a
pledge for three years. Hugh’s words (Pertz, viii. 475) are;
“Pro componenda inter fratres pacis concordia in Normannia
substitit donec, pace facta, decem milium marcarum pensione
accepta, terram suam comes Normanniæ regi Anglorum usque ad
trium annorum spacium custodiendam traderet.” “Pensio” must
here be taken in the sense of a single payment. Eadmer’s
words are; “Normanniam spatio trium annorum pecuniæ gratis
in dominium tradidit.” Orderic (723 A) makes the time five
years; “Rex Anglorum … Normanniam usque ad quinque annos
servaturus recepit, fratrique suo ad viam Domini peragendam
decem milia marcos argenti erogavit.” Robert of Torigny
(Will. Gem. viii. 7) mentions no number of years, but makes
the bargain last as long as Robert shall be away; “Rex
Willelmus in Normanniam transfretans, decies mille marcas
argenti ea conditione Roberto duci commodavit, ut quamdiu
idem Dux in prædicta peregrinatione moraretur, ipse ducatum
Normanniæ pro eis vadem haberet, illum duci restituturus cum
ipse sibi prætaxatam pecuniam rediens reconsignasset.”
[1510] See Appendix X.
[1511] See above, p. 438.
[1512] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 35. “Quæ pecunia per Angliam,
partim data, partim exacta, totum regnum in immensum
vastavit.”
[1513] Chron. Petrib. 1096. “Ðis wæs swiðe hefigtíme gear
geond eall Angelcyn, ægðer ge þurh mænigfealde gylda and eac
þurh swiðe hefigtymne hunger, þe þisne eard þæs geares swiðe
gedrehte.”
[1514] Flor. Wig. 1091. “Comites, barones, vicecomites, suos
milites et villanos spoliaverunt.”
[1515] Will. Malms. iv. 318. “Super violentia querimoniam
facientes, non se posse ad tantum vectigal sufficere, nisi
si miseros agricolas omnino effugarent.”
[1516] Will. Malms. iv. 318. “Quibus curiales, turbido, ut
solebant, vultu, ‘Non habetis,’ inquiunt, ‘scrinia auro et
argento composita, ossibus mortuorum plena? nullo alio
responso obsecrantes dignati.’”
[1517] Ib. “Ita illi, intelligentes quo responsio tenderet,
capsas sanctorum nudaverunt, crucifixos despoliaverunt,
calices conflarunt, non in usum pauperum, sed in fiscum
regium: quicquid enim pene sancta servavit avorum parcitas,
illorum grassatorum absumsit aviditas.” Cf. the account of
the spoliation of Waltham in Appendix H.
[1518] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 35. “Conventus est et Anselmus per
id temporis, et ut ipse quoque manum auxilii sui in tam
rationabili causa regi extenderet, a quibusdam suis est
amicis admonitus.”
[1519] Eadmer describes this transaction at length; and adds
that Anselm gave the two hundred pounds to the King, “cum
illis quæ de suis habere poterat pro instanti necessitate,
ut rebus consuleret.”
[1520] This fact comes from a letter of Bishop Ivo of
Chartres (Du Chesne, iv. 219) addressed to King Philip;
“Excellentiæ vestræ litteras nuper accepi, quibus submonebar
ut apud Pontesium vel Calvummontem cum manu militum vobis
die quam statueratis occurrerem, iturus vobiscum ad placitum
quod futurum est inter regem Anglorum, et comitem
Normannorum, quod facere ad præsens magnæ et multæ causæ me
prohibent.” One of these reasons is that he will not have
anything to do with Bertrada, against whom he again strongly
exhorts the King. He himself will not be safe in the King’s
court, because of her devices; such at least seems to be the
meaning of the general remark, “Postremo novit vestra
serenitas, quia non est mihi in curia vestra plena
securitas, in qua ille sexus mihi est suspectus et infestus,
qui etiam amicis aliquando non satis est fidus.” Another
reason is more curious, and seems to imply that some
fighting was looked for; “Præterea casati ecclesiæ, et
reliqui milites pene omnes vel absunt, vel pro pace violata
excommunicati sunt: quos sine satisfactione reconciliare non
valeo et excommunicatos in hostem mittere non debeo.”
[1521] Ord. Vit. 675 A. “Odo Baiocensis episcopus cum
Rodberto duce, nepote suo, peregrinatus est. Tantus enim
erat rancor inter ipsum et regem pro transactis
simultatibus, ut nullatenus pacificari possent ab ullis
caduceatoribus. Rex siquidem magnanimus et iracundus et
tenacis erat memoriæ, nec injuriam sibimet irrogatam facile
obliviscebatur sine ultione.”
[1522] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 714.
[1523] We learn a great deal about Robert on the crusade
from the Life of Lanfranc by Ralph of Caen, in the fifth
volume of Muratori. One passage describing his character has
been already quoted. We shall see some special cases as we
go on. But it is worth while to compare the “regius sanguis
Willelmides” of c. 22 with the picture in c. 58. In this
last Robert makes up to the English at Laodikeia “spe
dominationis.” Were they to help him in any attempt on the
English crown?
[1524] I refer to Sir Francis Palgrave’s chapter “Robert the
Crusader,” the eleventh in the fourth volume of his
“Normandy and England.” He goes further off from the scene
of our common story than I can undertake to follow him.
[1525] Will. Malms. iv. 350. But our best account just at
this moment is that by Fulcher of Chartres in the “Gesta Dei
per Francos,” which Orderic (718 B) witnesses to as a
“certum et verax volumen.” Here we read (385), “Nos Franci
occidentales, per Italiam excursa Gallia transeuntes cum
usque Lucam pervenissemus, invenimus prope urbem illam
Urbanum apostolicum, cum quo locuti sunt comes Robertus
Normannus, et comes Stephanus, nos quoque cæteri qui
voluimus.”
[1526] Fulcher (u. s.) graphically describes this scene;
“Cum in basilica beati Petri introissemus, invenimus ante
altare homines Guiberti, papæ stolidi, qui oblationes altari
superpositas, gladios suos in manibus tenentes, inique
arripiebant: alii vero super trabes ejusdem monasterii
cursitabant; et inde deorsum ubi prostrati orabamus, lapides
jaciebant.”
[1527] Ord. Vit. 724 D. “Rogerius dux, cognomento Bursa,
ducem Normanniæ cum sociis suis, utpote naturalem dominum
suum, honorifice suscepit.”
[1528] He is “Marcus Buamundus” in Orderic, who afterwards
(817 A) tells the story of his two names. When he went
through Gaul, he stood godfather to many children, “quibus
etiam cognomen suum imponebat. Marcus quippe in baptismate
nominatus est; sed a patre suo, audita in convivio joculari
fabula de Buamundo gigante, puero jocunde impositum est.
Quod nimirum postea per totum mundum personuit, et innumeris
in tripertito climate orbis alacriter innotuit. Hoc exinde
nomen celebre divulgatum est in Galliis, quod antea
inusitatum erat pene omnibus occiduis.” Orderic is always
careful about names, specially double names. See another
account in Will. Malms. iv. 387.
[1529] Orderic (724 D) says merely “quoddam castrum,” but it
appears from Geoffrey Malaterra (iv. 24) and Lupus
Protospata, 1096 (Muratori, v. 47), that the place besieged
was Amalfi. Count Roger of Sicily brought with him ten
thousand Saracens.
[1530] Ord. Vit. u. s. “Sibi tandem optimum afferri pallium
præcepit, quod per particulas concidit, et crucem unicuique
suorum distribuit, suamque sibi retinuit.”
[1531] Fulcher, 585. “Tunc plurimi de pauperibus vel
ignavis, inopiam futuram metuentes, arcubus suis venditis,
et baculis peregrinationis resumptis, ad mansiones suas
regressi sunt. Qua de re viles tam Deo quam hominibus facti
sunt: et versum est eis in opprobrium.” So William of
Malmesbury, iv. 353, who adds that “pars pro intemperie soli
morbo defecit.”
[1532] See Historical Essays, Third Series, 473, 474.
[1533] Ord. Vit. 765 B, C.
[1534] See N. C. vol. iv. pp. 625, 626.
[1535] Orderic (u. s.) says, “tranquillo remige in Bulgariæ
partibus applicuit.” Fulcher is naturally more exact. They
land at Dyrrhachion (386), and then “Bulgarorum regiones,
per montium prærupta et loca satis deserta, transivimus.” He
gives several curious details of the voyage and march.
[1536] Fulcher bursts into ecstasy at the sight of
Constantinople, and William of Malmesbury takes the
opportunity to tell its history. From iv. 356 and the note
it appears that he knew his Emperors, and that his editor
did not.
[1537] See Fulcher, 386; Orderic, 728 A; Will. Malms. iv.
357. They all record the homage, except in the case of Count
Raymond of Toulouse, who would only swear, but not do
homage. The Count of Flanders seems a little doubtful; but
the words of William of Malmesbury are explicit as to
Robert; “Normannus itaque et Blesensis comites hominium suum
Græco prostraverunt; nam jam Flandrita transierat, et id
facere fastidierat, quod se meminisset natum et educatum
libere.” Orderic seems to take a real pleasure in speaking
of Alexios as Augustus and Cæsar, the latter title being a
little beneath him. His subjects however are not only
“Græci,” but “Pelasgi,” “Achæi,” anything that would do for
the grand style. Presently Nikaia appears (728 B) as “totius
Romaniæ caput.” So William of Malmesbury speaks of “Minor
Asia quam Romaniam dicunt.” Here “Romania” means specially
the Turkish kingdom of _Roum_; in more accurate geography it
takes in the European provinces of the Empire.
[1538] See above, p. 560, and Ord. Vit. 778 A, B, where he
describes the coming of Eadgar, of which more in a later
chapter, and his near friendship with Robert.
[1539] The words of Ralph of Caen (c. 58) on this head are
very emphatic; “Normannus comes ingressus Laodiciam somno
vacabat, et otio; nec inutilis tamen, dum opulentiam nactus
aliis indigentibus large erogabat; quoniam conserva Cyprus
Baccho, Cerere, et multo pecore abundans, Laodiciam
repleverat, quippe indigentem vicinam Christicolam, et quasi
collacteam; ipsa namque una in littore Syro et Christum
colebat et Alexio serviebat. Sed nec sic excussato otio,
prædictus comes frustra semel atque iterum ad castra
revocatur. Tertio sub anathemate accitus, redit invitus;
difficilem enim habebat transitum commeatio, quæ comiti
ministrare Laodicia veniens debebat.”
[1540] Ord. Vit. 753 A. We have heard of Hugh before, N. C.
vol. iv. p. 493. We now read that “Susceptus a Normannico
duce, multum suis profuit et mores ethnicos ac
tergiversationes subdolas et fraudes, quibus contra fideles
callent, enucleavit.”
[1541] Ib. “Cosan etiam, nobilis heros et potens de Turcorum
prosapia, Christianos ultro adiit, multisque modis ad
capiendam urbem eos adjuvit. In Christum enim fideliter
credebat, et sacro baptismate regenerari peroptabat. Ideoque
nostratibus, ut amicis et fratribus, ad obtinendum decus
Palæstinæ et metropoli Davitici regni summopere suffragari
satagebat.”
[1542] “Furtivi funambuli” was the name given to Ivo and
Alberic of Grantmesnil and certain others. See Orderic, 738
D. Stephen of Chartres too decamped for a while in a manner
which did not please his wife.
[1543] The words of William of Malmesbury (iv. 389) are
remarkable; “Robertus, Jerosolymam veniens, indelibili
macula nobilitatem suam respersit, quod regnum, consensu
omnium sibi utpote regis filio delatum, recusaret, non
reverentiæ, ut fertur, contuitu, sed laborum inextricabilium
metu.”
[1544] His exploits in the storm come out in all the
accounts. In William of Malmesbury (iv. 369) he and his
namesake of Flanders are as usual grouped together; “Hæc
quidem victoria in parte Godefridi et duorum Robertorum
evenit.”
[1545] Will. Malms. iv. 371. “Duces, et maxime Robertus
Normannus, qui antesignanus erat, arte artem, vel potius
virtute calliditatem eludentes, sagittariis et peditibus
deductis, medias gentilium perruperunt acies.” This seems to
prove more than the story in iv. 389, where Robert, with
Philip of Montgomery and others, makes use of the worn-out
stratagem of the feigned flight.
[1546] Robert of Torigny, 1096. “Comes Henricus contulit se
ad regem Willermum, atque omnino cum eo remansit; cui idem
rex comitatum Constantiensem et Baiocensem, præter civitatem
Baiocas et oppidum Cadomi, ex integro concessit.”
[1547] Ord. Vit. 721 B. This decree heads the acts of the
council; “Statuit synodus sancta, ut trevia Dei firmiter
custodiatur,” &c.
[1548] Ib. C. All persons from twelve years of age are to
swear that they will keep the Truce, and will help their
several bishops and archdeacons, “ita ut, si me monuerint ad
eundum super eos, nec diffugiam nec dissimulabo, sed cum
armis meis cum ipso proficiscar, et omnibus, quibus potero,
juvabo adversus illos per fidem sine malo ingenio, secundum
meam conscientiam.”
[1549] Ib. D. “Hoc anathemate feriuntur falsarii et raptores
et emptores prædarum, et qui in castris congregantur propter
exercendas rapinas, et domini qui amodo eos retinuerint in
castris suis. Et auctoritate apostolica et nostra prohibemus
ut nulla Christianitas fiat in terris dominorum illorum.”
[1550] Ord. Vit. 721 D. “Et quod nullus laicus
participationem habeat in tertia parte decimæ, vel in
sepultura, vel in oblatione altaris.”
[1551] Ib. “Nec servitium, nec aliquam exactionem inde
exigat, præter eam quæ tempore Guillelmi regis constituta
fuit.”
[1552] Orderic draws a special picture (722 D, 723 C),
winding up with “Sic Normannia suis in se filiis furentibus
miserabiliter turbata est, et plebs inermis sine patrono
desolata est.”
[1553] Ord. Vit. 765 C. “Guillelmus itaque rex Normanniam
possedit, et dominia patris sui, quæ frater suus insipienter
distraxerat, sibi mancipavit.”
[1554] Ib. “Ecclesias pastoribus viduatas electis _pro
modulo suo_ rectoribus commisit.” Or do these words imply
simony? They might merely imply lay nomination and
investiture.
[1555] Ib.
[1556] Ib.
[1557] Ord. Vit. 765 C. “Turoldo fratri Hugonis de Ebremou
episcopatum dedit.” Hugh of Evermouth occurs in the false
Ingulf, 77 (not so in Domesday), as lord of Bourne and
Deeping.
[1558] Ib. “Pro quibusdam arcanis ultro reliquit.”
[1559] I shall speak of these Welsh wars in full in the next
chapter.
[1560] Chron. Petrib. 1097. “Se cyng Willelm … togeanes
Eastron hider to lande for, forðam he þohte his hired on
Winceastre to healdenne; ac he wearð þurh weder gelét oððet
Eastre æfen, þæt he up com ærost æt Arundel, and forþi his
hired æt Windlesoran heold.”
[1561] Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 37) makes a great deal more than
enough of this submission, when he says; “Super Walenses qui
contra eum surrexerant exercitum duxit, eosque post modicum
in deditionem suscipit, et pace undique potitus est.” But
this would doubtless be the impression of the moment.
[1562] Ib. “Cum jam multi sperarent, quod hæc pax servitio
Dei deberet militare, et attenti exspectarent aliquid magni
pro emendatione Christianitatis ex regis assensu
archiepiscopum promulgare.”
[1563] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 37. “Ecce spei hujus et
exspectationis turbatorias literas rex, a Gualis reversus,
archiepiscopo destinat, mandans in illis se pro militibus
quos in expeditionem suam miserat nullas ei nisi malas
gratias habere, eo quod nec convenienter, sicut aiebat,
instructi, nec ad bella fuerant pro negotii qualitate
idonei.”
[1564] See N. C. vol. v. p. 372.
[1565] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 37. “Præcepit ut paratus esset de
his, juxta judicium curiæ suæ, sibimet rectitudinem facere,
quandocumque sibi placeret inde eum appellare.”
[1566] Ib. “Licet jam olim sciverit se, eodem rege
superstite, in Anglia Christo non adeo fructificaturum.”
[1567] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 37. “Rogatus de subventione
Christianitatis, nonnumquam solebat respondere se propter
hostes quos infestos circumquaque habebat eo intendere non
valere.”
[1568] Ib. “Jam tunc illum pace potitum cogitaverat super
hac re convenire, et saltem ad consensum alicujus boni
fructus exsequendi quibus modis posset attrahendo delinire.”
[1569] Ib. “Quod ille dinoscens, et insuper cuncta regalis
curiæ judicia pendere ad nutum regis, nilque in ipsis nisi
solum velle illius considerari certissime sciens, indecens
æstimavit pro verbi calumnia placitantium more contendere,
et veritatis suæ causam curiali judicio, quod nulla lex,
nulla æquitas, nulla ratio, muniebat, examinandam
introducere.” As I understand this, he does not decline the
authority of the court; he simply determines to make no
defence, and to leave things to take their course.
How far did the court deserve the character which Eadmer
gives of it? At this stage of the constitution, we are met
at every step by the difficulty of distinguishing between
the greater _curia regis_, which was in truth the
Witenagemót, and the smaller _curia regis_ of the King’s
immediate officials and counsellors, the successor of the
_Theningmannagemót_ (see N. C. vol. v. pp. 423, 878).
Eadmer’s picture would, under Rufus, be true enough of the
smaller body. The event at Rockingham had shown that it was
not always true of the larger.
[1570] We read directly after (Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 37) what
was expected to happen;――“ut culpæ addictus, aut ingentem
regi pecuniam penderet, aut ad implorandam misericordiam
ejus, caput amplius non levaturus, se totum impenderet.”
Anselm was determined to avoid the latter alternative.
[1571] “Causa discidii utique, non ex rei veritate producta,
sed ad omnem pro Deo loquendi aditum Anselmo intercludendum
malitiose composita.”
[1572] Ib. “Tacuit ergo, nec quicquam nuntio respondit,
reputans hoc genus mandati ad ea perturbationum genera
pertinere quæ jam olim sæpe sibi recordabatur illata, et
ideo hoc solum ut Deus talia sedaret supplici corde
precabatur.”
[1573] Ib. “Verebatur ne hæc Dei judicio sibi damno fierent,
si quibus modis posset eis obviare non intenderet.”
[1574] Ib. “Sed obviare sibi impossibile videbat, quod
totius regni principem aut ea facere aut eis favere
perspicuum erat. Visum itaque sibi est auctoritatem et
sententiam apostolicæ sedis super his oportere inquiri.” Yet
that he did design a last effort with the King, before he
said anything about the Pope, is plain by his actually
attempting it.
[1575] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 37. “Cum igitur in Pentecoste,
festivitatis gratia, regiæ curiæ se præsentasset, et modo
inter prandendum, modo alias quemadmodum opportunitas se
offerebat, statum animi regalis quis erga colendam æquitatem
esset studiose perquisisset, eumque qui olim fuerat omnimodo
reperisset, nihil spei de futura ipsius emendatione in eo
ultra remansit.”
[1576] Ib. “Peractis igitur festivioribus diebus, diversorum
negotiorum causæ in medium duci ex more cœperunt.” This
notice is important as showing us the order in which
business was done in these assemblies.
[1577] Ib. “Ut culpæ addictus aut ingentem regi pecuniam
penderet, aut ad implorandam misericordiam, ejus caput
amplius non levaturus, se totum impenderet.”
[1578] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 37. “Accersitis ad se quos volebat
de principibus regis, mandavit per eos regi se summa
necessitate constrictum velle, per licentiam ipsius, Romam
ire.”
[1579] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 38. “Potestas in manu sua est;
dicit quod sibi placet. At si modo non vult concedere,
concedet forsitan alia vice. Ego preces multiplicabo.”
[1580] Ib. “Insequenti mense Augusto cum de statu regni
acturus rex episcopos, abbates, et quosque regni proceres,
in unum præcepti sui sanctione egisset.”
[1581] Anselm made his petition, “dispositis his quæ
adunationis illorum causæ fuerant, dum quisque in sua
repedare sategisset.”
[1582] Ammianus, xxi. 18.
[1583] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 38. “Conturbat me, et
intelligentem non concedendum fore quod postulat, sua
graviter importunitate fatigat; quapropter jubeo ut amplius
ab hujusmodi precibus cesset, et qui me jam sæpe vexavit,
prout judicabitur mihi emendet.”
[1584] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 38. “Si iverit, pro certo noverit
quod totum archiepiscopatum in dominium meum redigam, nec
ilium pro archiepiscopo ultra recipiam.”
[1585] Ib. “Orta est ex his quædam magna tempestas diversis
diversæ parti acclamantibus.”
[1586] Ib. “Quidam permoti suaserunt in crastinum rem
differri, sperantes eam alio modo sedari.”
[1587] Ib. “Indubitanter sciens quod causa meæ salutis,
causa sanctæ Christianitatis, et vere causa sui honoris ac
profectus, si credere velit, ire dispono.”
[1588] Eadmer Hist. Nov. 38. “In hoc scilicet, ut, spreto
tanti pontificatus honore simul et utilitate, Romam petas,
non leve est credere quod stabilis maneas.”
[1589] Ib. “Si ita fideliter et districte vultis in mea
parte considerare atque tueri rectitudinem et justitiam Dei,
sicut in parte alterius perpenditis atque tuemini jura et
usus mortalis hominis.”
[1590] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 38. “Audiam sequarque consilium
quod mihi inde vestra fida Deo industria dabit.”
[1591] Ib. 39. “Domine pater, scimus te virum religiosum
esse ac sanctum, et in cælis conversationem tuam. Nos autem,
impediti consanguineis nostris quos sustentamus et
multiplicibus sæculi rebus quas amamus, fatemur, ad
sublimitatem vitæ tuæ surgere nequimus, nec huic mundo tecum
illudere.”
[1592] Ib. “Si volueris ad nos usque descendere, et qua
incedimus via nobiscum pergere.”
[1593] Ib. “Si te ad Deum solummodo quemadmodum cœpisti
tenere delegeris solus.”
[1594] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 38. “Bene dixistis, Ite ergo ad
dominum vestrum, ergo me tenebo ad Deum.”
[1595] Ib. “Unoquoque nostrum qui admodum pauci cum eo
remansimus ad imperium illius singulatim sedente, et Deum
pro digestione ipsius negotii interpellante.” There is
something strange in this last word.
[1596] We here get a climax; “Sæpe diversis eum querelis
exagitasti, exacerbasti, cruciasti.”
[1597] The wording is remarkable and subtle; “Cum tandem
post placitum quod totius regni adunatione contra te apud
Rockingeham habitum est, eum tibi sicut dominum tuum
reconciliari sapienter peteres; et, adjutus meritis et
precibus plurimorum pro te studiose intervenientium,
petitioni tuæ effectum obtineres.”
[1598] See above, p. 531.
[1599] Hist. Nov. 39. “Quibus opem credulus factus sperabat
se de cætero quietum fore.”
[1600] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 39. “Hanc pollicitationem, hanc
fidem, en tu patenter _egrederis_, dum Romam, non expectata
licentia ejus, te iturum minaris.”
[1601] Ib. “Tunc te ad judicium curiæ suæ præcepit sibi
emendare, quod de re in qua non eras certus te
perseveraturum, ausus fuisti eum totiens inquietare.”
[1602] Ib. “Dextram illius _ex more_ assedit.” Here is the
distinct mention of a custom which we have come across
before.
[1603] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 39. “Scio me spopondisse
consuetudines tuas, ipsas videlicet quas per rectitudinem et
secundum Deum in regno tuo possides, me secundum Deum
servaturum.”
[1604] Ib. “Cum rex et principes sui cæca mente objicerent,
ac jurisjurandi interjectione firmarent, nec Dei nec
rectitudinis in ipsa sponsione ullam mentionem factam
fuisse.”
[1605] Ib. 40. “Cum ad hæc illi summurmurantes contra virum
capita moverent, nec tamen quid certi viva voce proferrent.”
[1606] Ib. “Cum fides quæ fit homini per fidem Dei
roboretur, liquet quod eadem fides, si quando contraria
fidei Dei admittit, enervatur.”
[1607] Hist. Nov. 40. “Tunc rex et comes de Mellento
Robertus nomine, interrumpentes verba ejus, ‘O, O, dixerunt,
prædicatio est quod dicit, prædicatio est: non rei de qua
agitur ulla quæ recipienda sit a prudentibus ratio.’”
[1608] Ib. “Ipse inter ora perstrepentium, demisso vultu,
mitis sedebat, et clamores eorum quasi surda aure
despiciebat. Fatigatis autem eis a proprio strepitu,
sedatoque tumultu, Anselmus ad verba sua remeat.”
[1609] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 40. “His verbis præfatus comes
indignando suburgens, ait, Eia, eia, Petro et papæ te
præsentabis, et nos equidem non transibit quod scimus.” I
can only guess at the meaning of these last words.
[1610] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 40. “Ecce ibis. Veruntamen scias
dominum nostrum pati nolle te exeuntem quicquam de suis
tecum ferre.”
[1611] See above, p. 93.
[1612] Hist. Nov. 40. “In istis princeps pudore suffusus,
dictum suum non ita intellexisse se respondit.”
[1613] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 41. “Mox ille surgens, levata
dextra signum sanctæ crucis super regem ad hoc caput
humiliantem edidit, et abscessit, viri alacritatem rege cum
suis admirante.”
[1614] “Ubi sedes pontificalis, ubi totius regni caput est
atque primatus,” Eadmer takes care to add.
[1615] For the discourse we have to go to the Life, ii. 3.
30. It contains the remarkable passage which I referred to
in N. C. vol. iv. p. 52.
[1616] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 41. “In qua mora idem Willielmus,
cum patre intrans et exiens et in mensa illius quotidie
comedens, nihil de causa pro qua missus fuerat agere
volebat.”
[1617] Ib. “Patrem patriæ, primatem totius Britanniæ,
Willielmus ille, quasi fugitivum vel alicujus immanis
sceleris reum, in littore detinuit.”
[1618] Ib. “Ingenti plebis multitudine circumstante ac
nefarium opus, pro sui novitate, admirando spectante et
spectando exsecrante.”
[1619] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 41. “Irrita fieri omnia quæ per
ipsum mutata vel statuta fuisse probari poterant, ex quo
primo venerat in archiepiscopatum.”
[1620] See N. C. vol. v. p. 772.
[1621] Hist. Nov. 41. “Ut tribulationes quæ factæ sunt in
illo post mortem venerandæ memoriæ Lanfranci ante introitum
patris Anselmi parvipensæ sunt comparatione tribulationum
quæ factæ sunt his diebus.”
[1622] See N. C. vol. iv. p. 359.
[1623] Eadmer (Hist. Nov. 35) describes the new building as
“novum opus quod a majori turre in orientem tenditur,
quodque ipse pater Anselmus inchoasse dinoscitur.” Its
minute history must be studied in Gervase and Willis.
[1624] This was the time when Henry the First broke out into
the fit of devout swearing of which I spoke in N. C. vol. v.
p. 844; Ann. Osney, 1130; “Rex Henricus ecclesiam Christi
Cantuariensis nobiliter dedicari fecit, adeo ut, coruscante
luminaribus ecclesia, et singulis altaribus singulis
episcopis deputatis, cum simul omnes inciperent canticum
‘Terribilis est locus iste,’ et classicum mirabiliter
intonaret, rex illustris, præ lætitia se non capiens,
juramento per mortem Domini regio affirmaret vere terribilem
esse.”
[1625] See above, p. 516.
[1626] “Salvo ordine meo.” See Herbert of Bosham, iii. 24,
vol. iii. p. 273, Robertson.
[1627] The Archbishop enters the hall (“aula”), while the
King is in “cœnaculo seorsum” (Herbert, iii. 37, vol. iii.
p. 305). From pp. 307, 309 it appears that this _cœnaculum_
was simply a solar or upper chamber; “Universis quotquot
erant de cœnaculo ad domum inferiorem in qua nos eramus,
descendentibus.” William Fitz-Stephen (vol. iii. p. 57)
seems to speak of the hall as “camera;” cf. p. 50.
[1628] See above, p. 94.
[1629] Will. Fitz-Steph. 58, vol. iii. p. 67. “A comitibus
et baronibus suum exigit rex de archiepiscopo judicium.
Evocantur quidam vicecomites et secundæ dignitatis barones,
antiqui dierum, ut addantur eis et assint judicio.”
[1630] See above, p. 508.
[1631] The distinction between the Court of our Lord the
King in Parliament and the Court of the Lord High Steward is
most clearly brought out in Jardine’s Criminal Trials, i.
229. Lord Macaulay (iv. 153) is less accurate. He speaks of
the Court of our Lord the King in Parliament as one form of
the Court of the Lord High Steward. But in truth, the Court
of our Lord the King in Parliament is simply the Witan
sitting for a judicial purpose. The Lords alone sit, because
the Commons have never attained to a share in the judicial
functions of the Witan. The right to be tried before the
Witan thus sitting judicially is naturally confined to those
classes of persons who have kept or acquired the right to
the personal summons, that is, to the peers.
If it should be objected that this privilege does not now
extend to the spiritual peers, the reason is most likely to
be found in the fact that for some ages a bishop would not
be tried before any temporal court at all. When such trials
began again in the sixteenth century, the later notion of
peerage had grown up, and those peers whose holding was
still strictly official was looked on as in some measure
less fully peers than those whose peerage was “hereditary”
in the modern sense.
[1632] See N. C. vol. v. pp. 423, 878.
[1633] See above, p. 115.
[1634] See N. C. vol. v. p. 145.
[1635] See the decree of the Council, Hist. Nov. 53.
[1636] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 42. We are told that the Duke,
“succensus amore pecuniæ quam copiosam illum ferre rumor
disperserat, proponit animo eam ipsi auferre.” But there is
really nothing in what Odo is said to have done which
implies any such bad purpose. Perhaps Eadmer judged him
uncharitably.
[1637] See Historical Essays, Third Series, p. 20. On my
last visit to Rome (1881) I found the apse of Saint John
Lateran destroyed, not by Huns or Turks, but by its own
chapter, with the approval, it is said, of its present and
late bishops. I believe there is some pretence of enlarging
the church, and of replacing the mosaics in a new apse.
[1638] Eadmer, Vit. Ans. ii. 5. 48. “Angli illis temporibus
Romam venientes, pedes ejus ad instar pedum Romani
pontificis sua oblatione honorare desiderabant. Quibus ille
nequaquam acquiescens, in secretiorem domus partem fugiebat,
et eos pro tali re nullo patiebatur ad se pacto accedere.”
[1639] Hist. Nov. 49. “Hinc etiam erat quod non facile a
quoquam Romæ simpliciter homo vel archiepiscopus, sed quasi
proprio nomine sanctus homo vocabatur.”
[1640] Eadmer brings this out with all vividness, Hist. Nov.
49; “Sedebat enim idem pater in ordine cæterorum inter
primos concilii patres, et ego ad pedes ejus.” Then the Pope
calls him, “Pater et magister Anselme, Anglorum
archiepiscope, ubi es?”
[1641] The whole story is charmingly told by Eadmer, Hist.
Nov. 50. His picture of himself and his curiosity in the new
world which is opened to him is delightful. So is his joy
when he sees the cope of which he has so often heard and
shows it to Anselm; “Cum, ut dixi, concilio præsens
antistitem Beneventanum, cappa reliquis præstante ornatum,
viderem, et eam ex his quæ olim audieram optime nossem, non
modice lætatus et cappam et verba mihi puero ex inde dicta
patri Anselmo ostendi.”
[1642] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 51. Some one, seemingly the Lady
herself, requires that he shall swear “super corpus
Dominicum et super sanctorum reliquias quas ei proponam
jurejurando reliquias de quibus agitur veraciter esse de
corpore beati apostoli Bartholomæi, et id remota omni
æquivocatione atque sophismate.” The Archbishop was quite
ready to swear.
[1643] Ib. “Inter alia mutuæ dilectionis colloquia cœpi de
eadem cappa loqui, et unde illam haberet quasi nescius
interrogavi.”
[1644] The story is told in the Annales Capituli
Cracoviensis (Pertz, xix. 588), 1079, and more briefly in
other annals in the same volume.
[1645] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 43.
[1646] Ib. “Ipse rex faciebat quædam quæ facienda non
videbantur de ecclesiis, quas post obitum prælatorum aliter
quam oporteret tractabat.”
[1647] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 43. “Legem Dei et canonicas et
apostolicas auctoritates voluntariis consuetudinibus obrui
videbam. De his omnibus cum loquebar, nihil efficiebam, et
non tam simplex rectitudo quam voluntariæ consuetudines
obtendebantur.”
[1648] He gives among his reasons, “Nec de his placitare
poteram; nullus enim aut consilium aut auxilium mihi ad hæc
audebat dare.”
[1649] Ib. 45. “Scribit literas Willielmo regi Angliæ, in
quibus ut res Anselmi liberas in regno suo faceret, et de
suis omnibus illum revestiret, movet, hortatur, _imperat_.”
[1650] Ib. 51. “Susceptis quidem quoquo modo literis papæ,
literas Anselmi nullo voluisse pacto suscipere, imo, cognito
illum [nuntium] esse hominem ejus, jurasse per vultum Dei
quia, si festine terram suam non exiret, sine retractatione
oculos ei erui faceret.”
[1651] See above, p. 526.
[1652] Chron. Petrib. 1097. We shall come to his crossing
and returning in another chapter.
[1653] Ib. 1099.
[1654] See above, p. 162.
[1655] See above, p. 155.
[1656] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 45. “Ducit eum [abbas] in villam
suam _Sclaviam_ nomine, quæ in montis altitudine sita, sano
jugiter aere conversantibus illic habilis exstat.”
[1657] See Historical Essays, Second Series, p. 357, ed. 2;
Arnold, Hist. Rome, ii. 365.
[1658] Vita Anselmi, ii. 4. 43.
[1659] We shall come to this in another chapter.
[1660] The reception of Anselm by Duke Roger is described by
Eadmer in both his works (Hist. Nov. 46, and in the Life,
ii. 5. 45). The plots of William Rufus come from William of
Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 98); “Adeo ut Rogerus dux Apuliæ,
apud quem rex Angliæ illum litteris insimulandum curaverat,
spretis neniis, longe aliter sententiam suam in viri honorem
transferret.”
[1661] There is something rather singular in the picture of
the Pope and Anselm dwelling in the camp of the besiegers
(Hist. Nov. 46); “Plures exhinc dies in obsidione fecimus,
remoti in tentoriis a frequentia et tumultu perstrepentis
exercitus…. Sicque donec civitas in deditionem transiit,
obsidio illius dominum papam et Anselmum vicinos habuit, ita
ut familia illorum magis videretur una quam duæ.” This is
one of several passages in which Anselm and others seem to
take a state of war for granted. There is no protest, no
pleading of any kind, on behalf of the besieged city. There
are some remarks of M. de Rémusat (Saint Anselme, p. 362) on
this subject, with regard to the correspondence between
Henry and Anselm after the battle of Tinchebrai. But in this
last case the victory of Henry was surely a gain to
humanity. In the Life Eadmer gives some curious details of
their life in the camp, and of a remarkable escape of
Anselm.
[1662] Eadmer seems to take a certain pleasure in little
hits against Urban, which his conduct presently made not
wholly undeserved. Thus, in Hist. Nov. 46, he points out how
the Pope came to the camp “ingenti sæcularis gloriæ pompa.”
So now in the Life (ii. 5. 46) he contrasts the demeanour of
Urban with that of Anselm at some length, and ends, “Multi
ergo, quos timor prohibebat ad papam accedere, festinabant
ad Anselmum venire, amore ducti qui nescit timere. Majestas
etenim papæ solos admittebat divites, humanitas Anselmi sine
personarum acceptione suscipiebat omnes.”
[1663] Vita, ii. 5. 46. “Et quos omnes? Paganos etiam, ut de
Christianis taceam.” Eadmer then goes on to speak at some
length of the Saracens brought over by Count Roger, whom he
pointedly speaks of as the man of his nephew; “Homo ducis
Rogerus, comes de Sicilia.” We read how Anselm received and
entertained many of the Mussulmans, and how, when he passed
through their camp, “ingens multitudo eorum elevatis ad
cælum manibus ei prospera imprecarentur, et osculatis pro
ritu suo manibus propriis necne coram eo genibus flexis, pro
sua eum benigna largitate grates agendo venerarentur.”
[1664] Vita, ii. 5. 46. “Quorum etiam plurimi, velut
comperimus, se libenter ejus doctrinæ instruendos
submisissent, ac Christianæ fidei jugo sua per eum colla
injecissent, si credulitatem [crudelitatem?] comitis sui per
hoc in se sævituram non formidassent. Nam revera nullum
eorum pati volebat Christianum impune fieri.” He adds the
comment; “Quod qua industria, ut ita dicam, faciebat nihil
mea interest; viderit Deus et ipse.”
[1665] Anselm’s motives are set forth at length in Hist.
Nov. 46. One reason is that his teaching was so much more
listened to on the continent than it was in England. The
stories of William’s evil doings are brought in at this
point.
[1666] A debate on this head, in rather long speeches
between Urban and Anselm, is given in Hist. Nov. 48. The
main doctrine stands thus; “Si propter tyrannidem principis,
qui nunc ibi dominatur, in terram illam redire non
permitteris, jure tamen Christianitatis semper illius
archiepiscopus esto, potestatem ligandi atque solvendi super
eam dum vixeris obtinens.”
[1667] Ib. “Et insignibus pontificalibus more summi
pontificis utens ubicunque fueris.”
[1668] He again describes his whole struggle between the two
duties, how he believed that he could reconcile both, how
others told him that he could not, and he asks, “Et ego,
pater, inter tales quid facerem?”
[1669] Ib. 49. “De ipso rege Anglico suisque et sui
similibus qui contra libertatem ecclesiæ Dei se erexerunt.”
[1670] See above, p. 608.
[1671] Hist. Nov. 51. “Si causam quæris, hæc est. Quando de
terra sua discedere voluit, aperte minatus est se illo
discedente totum archiepiscopatum in dominium suum
accepturum. Quoniam igitur, nec his minis constrictus, quin
exiret omittere noluit, juste se putat fecisse quod fecit et
injuria reprehendi.”
[1672] Ib. 52. “Quis unquam audivit talia? pro hoc solo
primatem regni suis omnibus spoliavit, quia ne sanctam
matrem ecclesiam omnium Romanam visitaret omittere noluit?…
Et pro tali responso mirabilis homo huc te fatigasti?”
[1673] Ib. “Certissime noverit se in eodem concilio
damnationis sententia puniri quam promeruit.”
[1674] Chron. Petrib. 1123.
[1675] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 52. “Priusquam abeam, tecum
secretius agam.”
[1676] Ib. “Prudenter operam dando hos et illos suæ causæ
fautores efficere, ac, ut domini sui voluntati satisfaceret,
munera quibus ea cordi esse animadvertebat dispertiendo et
pollicendo parvi habere. Deductus ergo a sententia Romanus
pontifex est.” William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. 101) is
still more distinct on this head; “Arte qua peritus erat
negotium conficiens, singulos ambiendo, muneribus et
pollicitationibus, regi terminum ad festum sancti Michahelis
obtinuit. Cunctatus est multum ad id concedendum Urbanus,
quod luctarentur in ejus animo Anselmi religio et munerum
oblatio; sed prævaluit tandem pecunia. Itaque omnia superat,
omnia deprimit nummus. Indignum factum ut pectori tanti
viri, Urbani dico, vilesceret famæ cura, Dei respectus
cederet, et pecunia justitiam præverteret.”
[1677] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 52. “Quod videntes vane nos ibi
consilium, nihil auxilium operiri intelleximus.”
[1678] Will. Malms. Gest. Pont. 102. “Visum est ergo Anselmo
circa tam venalem hominem expectationem non perdere, sed
Lugdunum remeare. Sed enim licentiam impetrare non potuit,
retinente papa, ut invidiam facti aliquo levaret solatio.”
[1679] Hist. Nov. 53. “His dictis, virgam pastoralem quam
manu tenebat tertio pavimento illisit, indignationem
spiritus sui, compressis exploso murmure labiis et dentibus,
palam cunctis ostendens.”
[1680] Ib. “Oppido miratus est, sciens se nec homini de re
locutum fuisse, nec a se vel ullo suorum, ut talia diceret,
processisse.” A little characteristic touch follows;
“Sedebat ergo uti solebat, silenter auscultans.”
[1681] See above, p. 606.
[1682] Hist. Nov. 53. “Nil judicii vel subventionis,
præterquam quod diximus, per Romanum præsulem nacti.”
[1683] Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 54. “Dei odium habeat qui inde
curat.”
[1684] Ib. “Ego interim libertate potitus agam quod libet.”
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
Transcriber’s Note
Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like
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end of the book. There are two anchors to Footnote [1486].
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letters at line endings or page breaks were removed. Letters with
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like this: [~s]. Elipses were standardized as … .
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pertain. Some sidenotes are separated into multiple parts; these can
be identified by lack of a stop at the end of the first part, and lack
of capital letter at the beginning of the following part.
Words and phrases in Greek are followed by transliteration within
brackets. Appendices referenced in this volume are found in Volume 2.
Obsolete words, spelling variations, inconsistent hyphenation, and
misspelled words were not changed.
The following additional items were changed:
Replaced hyphen with space: lay folk.
Changed December 35 to December 25 in the Contents.
Added space in ‘u. s.’ to several footnote references for consistency.
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